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 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 iondon: 
 
 PRINTED BY GILBERT AND EIVINGTON, LIMITED, 
 
 ST. John's squaeb.
 
 KICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 31 fio\}tl 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ' Thy love is better than high birth to me, 
 Richer than wealth." — Shakespeabe, Sonnet 91. 
 
 UonUoii : 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 
 \^All rights reserved.^
 
 R399 
 
 filOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 *' Her looks do argue her replete with modesty ; 
 Her words do show her wit incomparable." 
 
 Henry VI., Act iii. Sc. 2. 
 
 *• A gentleman of all temperance." 
 
 Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 2. 
 
 " As if it mattered ! How can I be so 
 foolish?" exclaimed a young lady, with 
 passionate scorn of herself, throwing 
 down a rose, about which she had been 
 hesitating whether or no t3 put it in the 
 coils of her dark hair. '' As if he would 
 care ! " And the laug^h which followed 
 was sad and bitter, though hardly strange 
 from one whose face just then was almost 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 a tragedy, from its expression of suffering, 
 heart-aclie, and disappointment. 
 
 " I look almost old enough to be liis 
 mother ! " was the suggestion prompted 
 by her mirror. 
 
 And she gazed into her sad, scornful 
 eyes, until a smile half pity half regret for 
 her own unhappiness filled them with tears. 
 The sudden softness, the droop of a mouth 
 generally too hard in outline, produced a 
 magical change in the grand w^orn face. 
 Edith Fleming looked just then a beautiful 
 woman, as well as one born to command. 
 
 " Tears ? impossible ! How I should 
 lose my character for wisdom if anybody 
 saw them ! Well, a truce to weakness, let 
 me put on my armour, and face the enemy 
 bravely. I have lived my part so long that 
 it has become natural, and no one sus- 
 pects what a mass of indecision and self- 
 distrust lies within my warlike defences ! "
 
 ETCHER THAN ^VEALTH. 3' 
 
 So witli a scornful smile, she went from 
 her room in answer to the dinner-bell, 
 which old John, who was general factotum 
 at the Hall, was rinofinsf. 
 
 ' Oct 
 
 '* Don't 'ee be long in the drawing-room, 
 else the salmon 'ull get spoiled, Miss Edith, 
 and then the squire 'ull storm, and he's 
 wonderful touchy to-day." 
 
 Edith hardly heard the old man, who 
 threw open the drawing-room door for her, 
 and ushered her into the pleasant old 
 apartment, with as much solemnity as if 
 she were a princess. But then to John she 
 was a princess. Miss Edith fulfdled his 
 ideal of a lady. 
 
 " None of your poor do-nothing, wishy- 
 washy young leddies, without a spark of 
 spirit i' them ; but one able to keep the 
 men-folk in good order : no fear o' 
 that." 
 
 No one would have guessed that it was 
 B 2
 
 4 ' ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 a great relief to tlie stately girl to find her- 
 self tlie first there. Though late in May, 
 a briofht fire felt and looked comfortable. 
 Naturally she went towards it, and also 
 very naturally just glanced with some 
 criticism at the representation of herself 
 in the long old-fashioned mirror, which 
 certainly never flattered any one. She was 
 half-vexed to see that she was veiy pale. 
 
 "IS^ever mind,'' she muttered, "it's my 
 natural lovely yellow colour." 
 
 " Captain Maynard," announced John. 
 
 With a proud, and yet most courteous 
 bearing, she advanced a little towards her 
 guest — and betrothed husband. 
 
 He met her with easy, polished deference; 
 but from their greeting no one could pos- 
 sibly have imagined that they were pur- 
 posing to pass their lives together in the 
 nearest relationship of humanity. 
 
 Captain Mnynard was very pleasant to
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. D 
 
 look upon. He was decidedly good-look- 
 ing ; his eyes could smile as well as his 
 mouth, and his manner altogether was 
 charming, especially to women. Then he 
 was fortunate in being tall and well-\)uilt, 
 and in possessing perfect health, and a 
 happy temperament. But he was not 
 that odious thing, a man with handsome 
 features and a wooden head ; his face pos- 
 sessed sufficient beauty to arrest the eye, 
 for it was full of expression, and its power 
 charmed man and woman ahke. 
 
 " Oh, Anstey has taken Harry off to the 
 Rectory to dinner ! '' 
 
 ** Harry is always erratic," she said 
 coldly, and feeling angry with her brother 
 for his desertion, which would make her 
 own dinner with Maynard almost a tete-cL' 
 tete, as her father had, alas ! come to those 
 years when that meal is the great event of 
 the day. For it must be confessed, that
 
 6 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 instead of carrying on any conversation 
 for tlie benefit of others around his table, 
 old Mr. Fleming concentrated all his ener- 
 gies on the good things before him. 
 
 Captain Maynard was by no means given 
 to feel embarrassment in the presence of 
 women, but he could never shake off a 
 certain feeling of awkwardness when alone 
 with Edith. Just now he felt so ill at ease 
 that he feared he should disgrace him- 
 self by laughing; it appeared so strange 
 that they should meet so coldly when 
 . . . He began to hope fervently that 
 either Mr. Fleming would come or dinner 
 be announced. And yet he was talking hard 
 the usual commonplaces — the beauties of 
 the country, the fineness of the weather. 
 While he talked he was thinking what a 
 very beautiful hand, wrist, and arm Edith 
 possessed. A most expressive hand, slen- 
 der, long-fingered, firm, and refined — •
 
 HIGHER THAN WEALTH. 7 
 
 with tliat delicate wrist. If a hand, meant 
 anything, such a one would bespeak its 
 owner as possessing a sweeter, warmer, 
 and more passionate nature than Edith 
 had ever betrayed to him. That hand was 
 his, and yet he dared not touch it. Never 
 before had he ever felt the slightest in- 
 terest about anything belonging to Edith ; 
 rather the greatest distaste to the mar- 
 riage, which under existing circumstances 
 would probably take place in the ensuing 
 autumn. 
 
 " Ugh ! Maynard," grunted out a deep 
 voice ; and a big man, bent with age and 
 infirmities, shuffled in with the aid of a 
 stick — " So you have come down to this 
 slow hole again ! You had better take 
 Edith in, I am too lame to play host much 
 now. Go on, man ; don't be bashful ! I'll 
 follow." 
 
 Maynard reflected as they walked across
 
 8 laCHER TUAN WEALTH. 
 
 the broad, bare, stone hall, that he and 
 Edith had seldom since the days of early 
 youth been so near each other before. 
 
 *' Rather ridiculous, all this ceremony, 
 isn't it ? " asked she, with an elevation of 
 her black brows. 
 
 " I — I rather like ceremony, I think,'* 
 he returned absently, and wondering how 
 and why two years had so altered his 
 companion. 
 
 After Mr. Fleming had given voice to a 
 short, but hearty grace, John helped him 
 to his chair. 
 
 " Well, Maynard, let us hear your news. 
 But Where's Mr. Harry, John ? " 
 
 " Gone to the Eectory, sir, with Mr. 
 Tom ; but he sent up word to say he'd 
 bring up Mr. Tom to have a glass of wine 
 by-and-by." 
 
 *' Oh, he did ! did he ? Pays you a very 
 pretty compliment, I must say, Maynard,
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. \) 
 
 running off the first niglit you are here," 
 laughed the old man disagreeably. 
 
 '' If I were a lady I might feel hurt 
 perhaps," laughed back the captain. 
 
 Here a dreadful sound of falling plates 
 and dishes stopped the conversation. 
 
 '' What's that woman doing now, John ? 
 Eeally, Edith, you manage to pick up the 
 most infernally clumsy set of kitchen- 
 maids that ever plagued a house." 
 
 *' I should get better servants if I could 
 afford higher wages,'* she said quietly. 
 
 " Wages, wages ! higher wages, indeed ! 
 Why my mother used to get a first-rate 
 cook for twenty pounds a year ! " 
 
 *' We need not discuss the servants now," 
 she said wearily. '' How is your uncle, 
 Captain Maynard ? " 
 
 *' Thanks, not very well. He has had 
 a sharp attack of the gout, and that has 
 made it rather warm for us all."
 
 10 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the squire, between his 
 spoonfuls of soup. *' The gout makes a 
 man speak very plain truth, I can tell 
 you. No waiting to choose words when 
 the fit is bad. The first and the strongest 
 seem best then. You just wait, my boy, 
 till you get your first attack, and see if 
 you don't swear." 
 
 '' I am afraid I swear occasionally with- 
 out the provocation of gout." 
 
 Then Mr. Fleming, having helped his 
 daughter, his guest, and himself scienti- 
 fically, prepared to enjoy his fish in silence, 
 while he listened to the captain, who talked 
 pleasantly for all. Edith wondered he 
 could talk so genially ; wondered he could 
 drink the poor claret, and be so apparently 
 satisfied with the cookery of her simple 
 country servants, when she knew what a 
 sybarite he was ; — with his clubs, with his 
 host of acquaintance, with grand fashion-
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 11 
 
 able women, who spoiled him — and yet he 
 was not spoiled. Edith gave him the 
 best she could, and that after all is the 
 truest, gentlest hospitality. Maynard 
 was gratified by those little touches of 
 elegance and refinement, wdiich a lady's 
 hand gives to a table. The arrange- 
 ment of the flowers w^as harmonious, 
 and their perfume delicious ; and for 
 all the poor claret, he had seldom enjoyed 
 a dinner more. Edith herself, at the head 
 of the table, grave, stately, and almost 
 silent, was a new experience, to the some- 
 what worn man of the world. Her manner 
 rather piqued him. It seemed to him 
 that she w'as neither glad nor sorry to see 
 him, but simply indifferent, and that in- 
 difference hurt his pride. Sometimes he 
 ventured to look at her, meeting her calm 
 brown eyes occasionally ; and he began 
 to wish they might one day smile upon
 
 12 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 him — one day when she had bent her 
 proud will to the hard contract, and was 
 his wife. lie used to think she was plain, 
 too tall, too angular, too determined for a 
 woman ; now he felt drawn to her, and he 
 wished he might spare her the hard sacri- 
 fice of a marriage without love, for he 
 imaofined she shrank from the idea of 
 becoming his wife. Dared he ever have 
 thought her plain ! The mere suggestion 
 of the thought almost made him blush. 
 A graceful woman, careworn from some 
 miserable petty cares, and one too great 
 for her. There was something so true, 
 so straightforward, in her glance, that a 
 great pity and reverence for her awoke in 
 his heart. Later on, when his host, follow- 
 ing his daily custom, had fallen asleep in 
 his armchair by the fire. Captain Maynard 
 went to the drawing-room. Edith was 
 there, a little withdrawn from the fire, and
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 13 
 
 where no ruddy liglit could play upon 
 lier face. 
 
 *' Shall I ring for the candles?" she 
 asked. 
 
 *' Not for me, I prefer the firelight ; 
 don't you ? " 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 '' I think you know I came down here 
 to-day for an express purpose — that of 
 arranging about our marriage — may I 
 speak to you now ? " 
 
 '• Certainly, if you wish — " and the cold- 
 ness of her voice chilled him. 
 
 He was leaning with one arm on the 
 mantleshelf with the light full ou his face, 
 and she, from her half-dark corner, could 
 see his every expression, while she herself 
 was hidden. 
 
 ''It is quite unnecessary for me to go 
 into details ; we both know the terms on 
 which we must wed. But I wanted to tell
 
 14 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 you, that so far as a man can or dare 
 promise, I would, I do promise to make 
 your happiness my first consideration. 
 We ourselves are helpless ; however much 
 we may rebel against this arrangement, 
 we must fulfil it. Edith ! " — and now he 
 was nearer and trying to see her face in 
 the dusk, — '' don't you think I might be 
 able to make you happy? Many mar- 
 riages turn out the best which had no 
 romantic love in the beginning.. I think 
 if we tried w^e might shake down into a 
 very faithful Darby and Joan sort of 
 couple — " 
 
 '' Perhaps ; I cannot tell," she replied in 
 a low voice; '' I — I would do my best for 
 you ; but oh, if I could give you your free- 
 dom from such a hateful bondage ! What 
 right have the dead to bind the living in 
 such humiliating fetters ? " she said pas- 
 sionately.
 
 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 15 
 
 " All, what riglit indeed ? And yet if 
 there were love between us, we should 
 bless the irrevocable ties which bind us," 
 he said sadly. 
 
 ''Yes, but there is not love," — at least 
 not with one, she thought. " You said 
 just now only too truly, that we are help- 
 less. Captain Maynard, a rumour has 
 reached me that you are very much at- 
 tached to a lady." 
 
 '' Pardon me, but rumour lies. I have 
 had a great many penchants and flirtations 
 — indeed, what man of my age has not ? — 
 but pray believe me w^hen I say, there is 
 no woman, living or dead, who could make 
 me regret my marriage to you." 
 
 A long pause, during which Edith sat 
 with an expression akin to astonishment 
 on her face. 
 
 *' I hope you understand me, Edith ? " 
 
 " Perfectly."
 
 16 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 '* And you agree to become my wife in 
 August ? for you know the four years will 
 have expired then." 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 " Are we to remain on the same cold 
 terms ? " and again he strove to pierce the 
 dusk, but he only saw the outline of a 
 pale, proud face. ''You seem to resent 
 any expression of affection from me. I am 
 your affianced husband, and yet I have 
 never kissed you." 
 
 '' Shall I ring for lights and the tea ? " 
 she said, rising. 
 
 " Ah, I am answered ! I wish to heaven 
 I could win a little softness from you; 
 some little sign that I could touch your 
 heart ; but you repel me," he said bitterly. 
 
 "T do not wish to repel you," she said, 
 startled by his vehemence. "But really 
 you know, our relation to each other has 
 — has not been of a description to warrant
 
 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 17 
 
 your kissing me," she returned lialf-smil- 
 ing, and blushing deeply. The entrance of 
 John with a taper put an end to further 
 speech from Maynard, who was strangely 
 stirred by the sweetness of Edith's smile 
 and blush. 
 
 *'I think you take cream and sugar?'* 
 she asked, when pouring out the tea. 
 
 And his eyes rested with admiration on 
 all the graceful curves of her grand figure, 
 and his heart beat with that first protecting 
 tenderness which fills it when a man is 
 with the woman who has just surrendered 
 all her life to his keeping. 
 
 She was nob indifferent, as he had 
 thought ; perhaps she might learn to love 
 him. Presently she observed, — while he 
 was wishing to return to their conversation 
 at the point where John interrupted it, — 
 
 " I am rather glad Harry is away 
 to-night. I wanted to ask your advice 
 
 VOL. T. c
 
 18 KinriER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 about liim. I do so wish lie had some 
 definite employment. It is so bad for him 
 to be loitering about day after day. He 
 never reads, or takes interest in anything, 
 except tennis and cricket ; and there are 
 only the j^oung farmers around for him to 
 associate with, and some of them are not 
 nice. You see his position here is rather 
 difficult. Nominally he is the young 
 squire ; but I am afraid poor Harry forgets 
 altogether what one naturally expects from 
 him. You know he would like to go into 
 the army, but I am doubtful whether he 
 could pass the examination." 
 
 '^ He would have to go to a coach, you 
 knovr, and grind hard. There are some 
 men in London w^ho w^ould pull a fellow 
 through any exam." 
 
 " I am so sorry he could not go to Sand- 
 hurst from Eugby, but my father could 
 not afford it just then."
 
 EICHEU THAN WEALTH. 19 
 
 " I don't see wliy lie should not get a 
 commission, if he works hard and passes 
 well ; a good many fellows from the militia 
 do get commissions." 
 
 " I am glad you think there is a chance 
 for him. There is something else which 
 troubles me very much about him. I think 
 you know the Finches at the Hall Farm — 
 at least the old people ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! very well indeed.'* 
 
 *' Did you ever meet Dorcas, their 
 daughter ? " 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 " She is a very lovely girl — and — Harry 
 is constantly there ! " 
 
 " I see you fear an entanglement." 
 
 *' Dorcas, herself, is everything that can be 
 nice, but her brother is very objectionable ; 
 in short, a bad companion for Harry." 
 
 *'Then you would not object to his 
 marriage to Dorcas ? " 
 2
 
 20 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 
 
 ** Dorcas Finch miglit marry any one. 
 Slie would grace any society, because she 
 is naturally a refined, clever girl, and in 
 addition, she has received an education 
 such as few girls are fortunate enough to 
 receive." 
 
 " You pique my curiosity to see this 
 paragon of a girl ! " 
 
 " You will find her all I say she is. I 
 pity her most sincerely. I can imagine 
 no position harder than hers to be in. To 
 love her people, and yet to feel beyond 
 them in a thousand ways. I should like 
 to see much of her, but how can I ? I 
 could hardly be on the same terms of 
 intimacy with her mother, who is a 
 very nice woman in her way, but 
 vulgar. So you see the difficulties before 
 me. 
 
 *'I do, indeed. From what you say of 
 this young lady, I should imagine you need
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 21 
 
 be under no appreliension as regards Harry. 
 A fast, ratlier horsey girl would be more 
 in his way. However, I am at your com- 
 mand ; I confess I am very curious to see 
 the beautiful Dorcas." 
 
 A new phase of the question instantly 
 struck Edith — what if Maynard should be 
 fascinated ? 
 
 At half-past ten John brought in the 
 candles. 
 
 " I'll sit up for Mr. Harry, Miss Edith; 
 he's like enough to be late now Mr. Tom's 
 back. There's a nice fire in the study, 
 Captain Maynard, if you would like a cigar, 
 or a pipe ; and there's some first-class 
 whisky too, if you're in the mind for a glass 
 before bed." 
 
 Maynard, however, excused himself from 
 John's further hospitality, who then, with 
 an old-fashioned good-night to both, left 
 the room.
 
 22 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 *' He's a splendid old fellow, that Jolin 
 of yours." 
 
 " Yes ; he is a treasure in most ways. 
 But he is rather difficult at times, you 
 know, for he always imagines he knows 
 best on all occasions, and is of course 
 dreadfully obstinate." 
 
 " "Well, he has given me a broad hint 
 that it is time to go to bed, so I must go, I 
 suppose. Good-night,'' he said; and the 
 expression of his face was sweet and 
 almost tender as he looked into hers. He 
 seemed, she thought, as if he wished to 
 take the caress he had spoken of, and, 
 very shy and proud, she drew back a 
 little, though he was still holding her 
 hand. 
 
 " You will not always be so cold," he 
 said, with a little laugh. "I suppose I 
 may kiss your hand; good-night," and he 
 was gone.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 23 
 
 A short time afterwards Eclitb. was in 
 her room, and the first thing which struck 
 her attention was a rose lying on the floor, 
 by the toilette-table. 
 
 "And he would have cared after all," 
 
 sbe said, blushing a little, and looking as 
 
 if some magician had touched her life with 
 
 deeper, sweeter issues than when she had 
 
 left the room a few hours before. 
 ***** 
 
 Some fourteen years before the date of 
 this story, a certain eccentric old lady, 
 much enamoured of French people and in- 
 stitutions, determined to follow the custom 
 of that nation by contracting the heirs of 
 her vast property in marriage, on the pre- 
 text that, as a rule, French marriages 
 turned out more happily than English 
 ones. 
 
 This old lady was an aunt of Sir William 
 Maynard, and consequently grand-aunt to
 
 24 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Hubert Maynard. In age slie was ap- 
 proacliing ninety, but as yet age bad bad 
 no power to dim ber extraordinary faculties 
 of mind. Seventy years before, sbe — tben 
 a bands ome, spirited girl — bad given ber 
 band to an equally attractive young Frencb 
 nobleman, tbe Comte de Gardemesnil, 
 wbo bad been taken prisoner in one of our 
 great sea-figbts by Dorotby's fatber, Sir 
 Hubert Maynard, tbe gallant captain of 
 bis Majesty's fine sbip Orestes, The young 
 lieutenant found bis prison quarters at 
 Carrington Park, in Warwickshire, most 
 agreeable ; and wben in due time be was 
 excbanged, be returned to France witb tbe 
 heart of tbe handsome Dorothy in bis 
 possession. 
 
 Born in 1774, the comtesse had lived 
 through the awfal times of the French 
 Eevolution ; she was as it were a connecting 
 link between the past century and the
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 25 
 
 present. In 1814, at the peace, the comte 
 and his wife took up their abode in his old 
 chateau in Normandy, which had been left 
 half-dismantled and wrecked, since its 
 siege by the Reyolutionists. The comtesse 
 however came with some good English 
 gold as her dower ; and the ravages of the 
 mob were in course of time repaired, and 
 the dreary, half -ruinous castle was trans- 
 formed into a pleasant home, showing some 
 touches of English thought and taste. 
 
 Monsieur le Comte turned his thoughts 
 to agriculture, having acquired some valu- 
 able knowledge during his enforced sojourn 
 in England. And then the bright, clever 
 Dorothy was a fortune in herself ; so they 
 prospered, and were very happy except in 
 one thing — all the children born to them 
 died one after another in early infancy. 
 But later on there came a still more 
 bitter trial to Dorothy ; her husband was
 
 26 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 thrown from his horse and killed. She sur- 
 vived her sorrow, and determined to live 
 for the object of amassing great wealth, 
 which should aggrandize the houses of 
 Gardemesnil and Maynard. Never was 
 there such an energetic landowner ! She 
 was up early and late ; and gradually, year 
 by year, all the old estranged estates of 
 the Gardemesnils came into the posses- 
 sion of this untiring and vigorous 
 chdtelaiuc. From time to time her rela- 
 tives came to see her ; and once, after 
 nearly sixty years' absence, she visited her 
 " ain countree " once more. 
 
 During that visit to her old home she 
 met W'ith some children, whose fate she 
 came to rule in a very remarkable w^ay. 
 They were Hubert Maynard, a bright, hand- 
 some, vivacious, and slightl}" mischievous 
 Eton boy, aged fifteen; Venetia Stanley, 
 likewise good-looking, vivacious, and mis-
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 27 
 
 cliievous, aged eleven; and Edith Fleming, 
 a distant relative of the Maynards, a quiet, 
 thoughtful girl, rather plain, somewhat 
 brown in complexion, but withal the stamp 
 of loyalty and good-breeding upon her, 
 aged ten. 
 
 ISTow the comtesse's great wealth had 
 become a sore burden to her. She 
 knew she had long passed the ordinary 
 term of human life ; and while she 
 yet possessed an unclouded mind, she 
 desired to make some righteous and bene- 
 ficent disposal of her estates. The bright 
 Hubert took her heart by storm ; she 
 declared he was the picture of her father, 
 the gallant admiral, long since reposing 
 under marble in the church near by. 
 
 The children were rather awestruck by 
 this strange, gaunt, tall old lady with her 
 piercing dark eyes, her hooked nose, her 
 black hair, which was quite natural, but
 
 28 JilCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 looked unnatural by the lined, yellow face. 
 Moreover site dressed in ricli, magnificent 
 brocades, made in a fashion of bygone days. 
 She also wore very high heels to her shoes, 
 and even her ninety years had not oblite- 
 rated the vanity which still possessed her 
 in regard to a pretty pair of feet. She 
 walked with an ebony gold-mounted stick 
 about the house, and the tap of her stick 
 and the tap of her heels, combined with 
 the rustle of her long brocade train, 
 sounded rather uncanny to the two young 
 girls at night. She was so French that 
 she had almost forgotten the use of her 
 mother-tongue. So at first it was difficult 
 to talk to those three young people who 
 gathered around her, while she told them, 
 with all the display of gesture naturally 
 French, stirring narratives of long bygone 
 days ; and the young ears eagerly drank in 
 the wonderful stories, which agitated them
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 29 
 
 delightfully, but made the girls afraid to go 
 to bed. 
 
 As far as could be ascertained, the 
 late comte was the last of the grand 
 old De Gardemesnil blood. An uncle of 
 his, Rene de Gardemesnil, had followed 
 the fortunes of the French army in Canada. 
 It was reported first that he had married, 
 then that he had been killed. However, 
 nothing authentic could be learned about 
 him ; for Comtesse Dorothy had des- 
 patched agents, and caused advertise- 
 ments to be inserted in American, Canadian, 
 and French and English newspapers ; but 
 no clue to the lost Rene was forthcoming. 
 
 There being then no representa- 
 tive of her husband's family to claim the 
 estates after her death — for her husband 
 had left them to her absolutely in case no 
 De Gardemesnil claimed — she determined 
 the young Hubert should be her heir,
 
 30 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 subject to certain conditions. While this 
 astute old lady was telling those pathetic 
 stories, she was also gauging the depth of 
 character in each of her listeners. Men- 
 tally she was trotting them out for inspec- 
 tion, especially the two girls. Hubert was 
 already decided upon, but as yet the 
 decision of which of the two girls should 
 be his wife, she found more difficult to 
 arrive at. The scales went up and down. 
 Sometimes it was Edith ; then again some 
 particularly happy hit of Yenetia's sent 
 Edith down, and Yenetia up. And so this 
 ancient sibyl was decreeing the fate of 
 these young innocents. At length the mo- 
 mentous issue came; Edith was declared 
 first favourite, as being a greater contrast 
 to Hubert in character than Yenetia. 
 The comtesse imagined these latter too 
 much alike — too vivacious, too runaway, 
 to settle down with all the decorum
 
 KICHER THAN WEALTH. 31 
 
 and dignified state suitable to tlieir con- 
 dition. Now Edith possessed already mucli 
 of the sedateness o£ older years, and would 
 undoubtedly become a very ^^ grande 
 dame,'' with sufficient beauty and es2)rit to 
 make the volatile Hubert a charming and 
 most excellent wife. 
 
 So their fate was settled for them, 
 with no word from themselves. The 
 comtesse's project was at first re- 
 ceived by the elder people with cold sur- 
 prise. It was not the English way of doing 
 things. Moreover, both the young folks 
 might fall in love with some one else, and 
 then there would be miserable complica- 
 tions, and so forth. But the ancient 
 woman declared that only on those condi- 
 tions should the Maynards possess a franc 
 of her fortune. There was a great deal of 
 hemming and hawing ; but eventually the 
 strong-minded, and to herself infallible, old
 
 32 EICnEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 lady had her way, and the strange compact 
 was signed by Colonel Maynard (Hubert's 
 father), old Fleming (Edith's father), and 
 also by Sir William Maynard, the repre- 
 sentative-in-chief of his family. 
 
 The comtesse returned to her chateau 
 in triumph ; and told her scheme and her 
 success to her dearest crony and friend, 
 the Abbe de Beaujour, who had been her 
 husband's director, and, though somewhat 
 divided from her on theological questions, 
 her own most intimate and faithful 
 friend. The chateau was really the abbe's 
 home ; he was twenty years the junior 
 of the comtesse, but they were sufficiently 
 near together in years to be very confi- 
 dential with each other. The comtesse 
 was of course rather of the old school, and 
 occasionally enjoyed a rather wicked story 
 from the chronique scandaleuse, without 
 being scandalized; which story would be
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 33 
 
 told bj the abbe with many a shrug and 
 many an ' helas, onadamej but with, infinite 
 humour; both the old people tapping their 
 snuff-boxes at the very wicked parts. 
 
 It is to be feared that when Hubert, at 
 sixteen, was told he was to be married to 
 Edith between the years when she would be 
 twenty-four to thirty, he made an expres- 
 sive though not elegant grimace. Follow- 
 ing the precedent of Lord J\jarch, he 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 '' What ! I have got to marry that 
 dowdy, gawky old Edith ! " 
 
 Edith said nothing, but thought a good 
 deal, when she too was told what was to 
 be the ultimate destiny of her life. 
 
 Soon after the comtesse's long pilgrimage 
 ended. But by her will she further bound 
 those unhappy young people in golden 
 fetters. Everything she possessed was 
 left to the children of the marriage of 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34j EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Hubert Majnard and Edith Fleming. 
 If they liad no cliild all tlie moneys were 
 equally divided by bequest to French and 
 English charities, after the death of hus- 
 band and wife. Up to their marriage 
 principal and interest were to accumulate. 
 If no marriage took place, they both for- 
 feited the right of inheritance, and all 
 passed to the said charitable trusts. Unless 
 a legitimate male descendant of the lost 
 Een^ could make good his right to the 
 name and inheritance of the De Garde- 
 mesnils, when two-thirds of all the pro- 
 perty, including the chateau and estates, 
 should pass to him, and the remaining 
 one-third to the Maynards, if the marriage 
 took place ; if not, the entire property to 
 pass to the lawful heir of E^ne de Garde- 
 mesnil.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " She's beautiful ; therefore to be Avoo'd ; 
 She's a woman, therefore to be won." 
 
 Henry VL, Act v. Sc. 3. 
 
 " The grief that does not speak, 
 "Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.' 
 MachefK Act iv. Sc. 3. 
 
 The next day, after lunch, Captain May- 
 nard strolled very leisurely througli the 
 rich pastures and cornfields towards the 
 Hall Farm. He was in a thoughtful 
 mood ; so thoughtful, indeed, that he was 
 quite unconscious that his cigar was out. 
 The office of having to play Mentor to a 
 foolish young man is not a particularly 
 gracious one, as none of our friends ever
 
 36 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 thank us for good advice ; on tlie contrary, 
 they generally resent our kindly regard 
 for their welfare, and perhaps inform us 
 that they think we have been officious, to 
 say the least. Making for the farm-house, 
 which was in reality an old manor-house, 
 and far removed in its stately picturesque- 
 ness from the dwelling of an ordinary 
 farmer, Captain Maynard threw away the 
 half-smoked cigar, straightened his back, 
 and assumed his politest, stiffest air. 
 Passing from the pasture into a lovely wil- 
 derness of sweet flowers which surrounded 
 the fine old house, interspersed with lawns 
 that really might be termed " velvety," from 
 their soft, fine verdure, he reached the 
 porch, but not before he had heard shouts 
 of laughter from various men's deep voices, 
 in which mingled occasionally a girVs 
 •delicate treble. 
 
 ^' Making themselves merry with a ven-
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 37 
 
 geance," he muttered, as lie knocked 
 pretty loudly at tlie door within the old- 
 fashioned friendly porch, which was now a 
 mass of Gloire de Dijon roses and honey- 
 suckle. 
 
 As his summons remained unanswered, 
 he ventured to walk in along a wide pas- 
 sage towards the kitchen, where a servant 
 was vigorously scrubbing the table. 
 
 '' Lord, sir, but 'ee give me a start," 
 said she, looking up and grinning. " Did. 
 'ee want to see the measter or the missus ? 
 they be all in the hall-place," wiping her 
 hands and taking off her wet apron. 
 
 " I want to see both," he said, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 *' Why, surely now, 'tis Captain May- 
 nard. I beg your pardon, sir, but do 'ee 
 come this way, please sir." 
 
 And returning through the passage, she 
 stopped at a closed door, whence sounds
 
 38 EICHEll THAN WEALTH. 
 
 of renewed merriment came. Heplizibah' s 
 lungs were good, and she managed to 
 make lierself lieard at last. 
 
 " Please, measter, here's Captain May- 
 nard as wants to see 'ee." 
 
 He followed the announcement of his 
 name, and found himself in a fine old 
 hall, and a little bewildered by the scene 
 before him. Round an old black oak 
 table in the centre were three young men, 
 all in entranced attention to the presiding 
 genius, a young girl enthroned in a high- 
 backed oak chair. This young girl was, with 
 a gravity worthy of the occasion — bobbing 
 cherries ! On one side of tlie wide hearth, 
 where blazed a brio-ht wood fire of loo-s 
 laid on handsome, old brass dogs, sat an 
 aged man with silvery hair, fine, keen face, 
 and benevolent expression. This was 
 yeoman Finch taking his afternoon pipe 
 in the ingle-nook, and where the smoke
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 39 
 
 could not offend tlie nostrils of Ms " pretty 
 wencli." Tlie other side of tlie wide 
 chimney held Mrs. Finch, a comfortable 
 dame, who, with knitting in hand, had 
 fallen asleep, overcome by her early hours 
 and the pleasant w^armth. Maynard's 
 entrance had the effect of producing 
 sudden silence, and every eye was turned 
 on him. The old farmer at once came 
 forward. 
 
 " You are kindly welcome, sir ; I hope 
 I see you well. My young folks and the 
 gentlemen are having some fun with the 
 cherries ; young folks wall be gamesome, 
 sir." 
 
 Mrs. Finch still slept on peacefully. 
 
 '' I don't think you have seen my 
 daughter before, sir ; she was in France. 
 Dorcas, my dear, this is Captain Maynard 
 you have heard me speak of." 
 
 Dorcas had removed the cherry from
 
 40 FJCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 her lips, and gave the stranger a rather 
 stately bow, and Majnard stood amazed 
 at the sight of her loveliness. 
 
 " Oh, Captain Maynard," she said with 
 a smile, " I am bobbing cherries for a 
 wager — two pairs of gloves ! I see you 
 are horribly shocked, but you must re- 
 frain from laughing and looking at me for 
 five minutes, and then I am at you ser- 
 vice." 
 
 He smiled and bowled, as he took the 
 chair the courteous old man offered him. 
 Meanwhile Dorcas, with perfect gravity, 
 proceeded to bob cherry after cherry, in 
 the most rapid and scientific fashion. 
 Maynard, having been told not to look at 
 her, studied his boots. Harry Fleming, 
 taking in the absurdity of the whole situa- 
 tion, began to giggle. Tom Anstey joined, 
 then Jim Finch, and then the grave Captain 
 was unable to resist a glance at the queen
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 41 
 
 of the table, who was still pursuing her 
 task with commendable decorum, when 
 with one consent the giggle became a 
 shout, or rather scream, of laughter. 
 Dorcas stopped, really vexed at some- 
 thing, — jDerhaps at being caught by a 
 stranger in such an undignified pastime. 
 
 " What are you all laughing at ? How 
 unkind you are ! you have made me lose 
 my gloves ! I declare I will never bob 
 another cherry ! " she said, flashing a look 
 of disdain and reproach, especially on 
 Maynard, as she rose from the table. 
 
 *' It was my fault, I am afraid; I am 
 very sorry," he said, with mock humility. 
 
 " Yes, it was your fault ; you ought to 
 give these men their gloves — " 
 
 " I shall be most happy — " looking into 
 her beautiful face, perhaps with too care- 
 less an admiration. 
 
 *' Of course, I was only in jest, Captain
 
 42 PvICHER THAN" WEALTH. 
 
 Maynard," she returned, a little haughtily, 
 and with a touch of grave surprise in her 
 calm eyes, so serene in their virginal pride. 
 
 That slight rebuke made him instantly 
 aware that she was no ordinary country 
 beauty, and he was very glad she had 
 given him a rebuff. 
 
 " What size do you take, Mr. Anstey ? 
 —tens?" 
 
 " Oh, come now, I like that. Miss Finch, 
 say a large nine," holding up a big, useful 
 fist. *' Besides, it's a drawn game, you 
 know ; we'll have some gloves on a set of 
 tennis instead.*' 
 
 '' Yery well, as you like. Will you have 
 some cider-cup. Captain Maynard ? " asked 
 Dorcas politely. " Harry and Mr. Anstey 
 say it is very good." 
 
 " Thanks, very much. Miss Finch." 
 
 ''It's most awfully good. Captain May- 
 nard. Come out and have some more
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 43 
 
 tennis, Dorcas," continued Harry; "it's 
 all rot being in doors such a day as this." 
 
 "No, I am tired; you can make up a 
 three-handed set." 
 
 So she calls young Fleming "Harry," 
 thought our friend, when the graceful 
 Dorcas had served him w^ith a glass of the 
 " cup," which certainly deserved Harry's 
 encomium. 
 
 ''What a charming old place this is," 
 said our captain. 
 
 " Yes, it is very nice." 
 
 " I always imagine farm-house life must 
 be so idyllic." 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " Yes, the butter-making, and all that 
 kind of thing, you know — " half-confused 
 by the beautiful, clear dark grey eyes 
 which betrayed ironical interrogation. 
 
 " Oh, so butter-making is idyllic ! Per- 
 haps you would like to see tlie dairy ? "
 
 44 HIGHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Very mucli, especially when you are 
 making the butter." 
 
 " But, unfortunafely, I never make the 
 butter. My mother has two dairymaids, 
 so I am afraid I cannot gratify your 
 curiosity. I don't think, Captain May- 
 nard, you would think dairy- work either 
 romantic or pleasant when the snow 
 is on the ground. Poor Hephzibah's 
 fingers look like raw carrots, and mine 
 would be just the same. I prefer to make 
 my hands useful in other ways." 
 
 " They don't, indeed, look like very useful 
 hands," he said, smiling, as he noted their 
 slender, perfect proportion, and the delicate 
 blue veins just visible. 
 
 " Nevertheless they are very useful, 
 though they don't make up the butter ; but 
 come, I like the dairy immensely myself, 
 as far as regards the cream ; and it's such 
 a nice cool place on a hot day."
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 45 
 
 She led the way. " Well, here we are ; 
 I hope you are gratified. Is it idyllic ? " 
 
 " If you were the dairymaid, it would be 
 perfect." 
 
 '* That is rather a back-handed compli- 
 ment. I really hope I bear no resemblance 
 to your romantic maid. The only picture 
 of one that I remember, is that of the 
 stout young girl going to market, with the 
 pail on her head." 
 
 " Ah ! you have no romance." 
 
 " None ; not a particle. Oh, Hephzibah, 
 will you bring some tumblers, please? 
 Won't you have some of this delicious 
 cream. Captain Maynard ? " 
 
 '' No, thank you ; some other day I will 
 ask you for some, when the strawberries 
 are ripe." 
 
 " Pray do ; is not to-morrow churning 
 day, Hephzibah ? " 
 
 ** Yes, Miss Dorcas."
 
 46 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 
 
 '' I thought SO ; Captain Maynard wants 
 to see me making np the butter." 
 
 *' Law, Miss Dorcas, butter-making 
 aint for the likes o' you; besides you'd 
 catch your death of cold standing in this 
 damp, watery place." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I mean to be here to- 
 morrow morning, Hephzy ; and you. Cap- 
 tain Maynard, shall have your idyllic 
 picture complete. I daresay now, you, in 
 your heart, are thinking that what poor 
 Hephzy says is wrong — that such work 
 ought to be for the likes o' me ! Perhaps 
 it might have been best for me, — who 
 knows ? but anyhow, I am out of the 
 running now," she said a little sadly. 
 
 '' Any opinion of mine would be most 
 impertinent," he said very courteously, as 
 they walked back through the quaint old- 
 fashioned garden, all abloom with pinks, 
 white rockets, and stocks.
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 47 
 
 Maynard was mTicli struck with tlie 
 strange incongruity of tkis beautiful girl's 
 position. If slie had come from noble an- 
 cestors her bearing could not have been 
 more distinguished. The question was, 
 could she, so far removed by education and 
 natural tastes, be happy in a world where 
 all the advantages she had enjoyed became 
 a bitter contrast when with her own people ? 
 
 " What a delicious old garden," he said 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 " Yes, I will allow, the garden is idyllic, 
 and beautiful. I like all these old-fashioned 
 flowers," she said dreamily. Then wak- 
 ing up, " Will you take Miss Fleming 
 some lilies of the valley ? There are some 
 late ones ; they thrive down here, and I 
 know she would like some." 
 
 " I shall be most happy to take 
 them ; but may I not beg for a flower for 
 myself?"
 
 43 EiCHER tha:n" wealth. 
 
 '' What is your particular clioice ? A 
 rose or a lily? " 
 
 " I wish you would give me one of those 
 rosebuds." 
 
 '' Certainly ; but please reach down the 
 branch for me, they are so prickly." 
 
 The tea-rose grew in careless, beautiful 
 profusion, — a mass of delicate cream and 
 pink-tinted blossoms. The strong man's 
 arm brought down a great branch just 
 over the girl's dark brown hair, crowning 
 her, as it were, with roses. The picture 
 was so pretty, that he rather forgot him- 
 self, and just as she was trying to get off 
 a bud, the branch flew back, tearing her 
 delicate hand, and leaving a large thorn in 
 her wrist. 
 
 " How clumsy of me ! I am awfully 
 sorry. Let me get the thorn out." 
 
 "It's out, thank you," she said, regard- 
 ing her bleeding scratches rather ruefully
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 49 
 
 before she tied her handkerchief over 
 them. *'Ah! you see, Captain May nard, 
 I generously endeavour to give you a 
 rose, and you reward me with a 
 thorn," she said impulsively; and then 
 walked on, wishing she had not 
 said it. 
 
 '^ Here are the lilies ; w411 you gather 
 some ? I suppose you don't object to 
 carry a basket of flowers." 
 
 '' Isot the least in the world." 
 
 When they again reached the porch, 
 the yeoman and his wife were there, 
 watching the tennis-battle going on before 
 them. 
 
 '' I am ashamed to think, Captain May- 
 nard," said good Mrs. Finch, "that no 
 one woke me up when you came; but I 
 was drowsy, and the young folks Avere 
 making such a noise. I never heard you 
 come in." 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 IMCHEli THAX WEALTH. 
 
 Meanwhile Dorcas was arranging the 
 lilies in a pretty little basket. 
 
 '* And how is your mamma and Sir 
 William, Captain Maynard. I suppose 
 your mamma will come over from Italy 
 for the happy day by-and-by." 
 
 " My mother and Sir William are very 
 well, thank you, Mrs. Finch." 
 
 Dorcas loved her mother, but she thought 
 the allusion to Maynard' s marriage ill- 
 timed. Poor Dorcas ! for a brief half -hour 
 she had almost forgotten she was Dorcas 
 Einch. She held out the flowers to 
 Maynard, who was desirous, she saw, to 
 escape from her mother's questions. 
 
 " Miss Fleming will be charmed by your 
 remembrance of her," he said politely, and 
 holding out his hand for hers. " And I 
 may come down to-morrow at ten for the 
 rehearsal in the dairy?" 
 
 " ISTo, don't come, Captain Maynard; it's
 
 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 51 
 
 not worth the trouble ; besides, I have an 
 eno-ao^ement which I had foro-otten. And 
 now I ought to be writing letters for my 
 father, so you will excuse me." 
 
 She bowed a little gravely, and went 
 slowly to her own pretty sitting-room up- 
 stairs. It faced the south, and in the 
 distance lay a long range of hills, and in 
 the nearer foreground a wide stretch of 
 thickly wooded vale. The roses and 
 honeysuckle continued from the porch 
 were all around her window too, setting it 
 as it were in a frame of green and gold, 
 touched with pink. Dorcas sat down near 
 this pleasant stone-mullioned window, but 
 where she was invisible to the tennis- 
 players. She heard Maynard talking to 
 Harry Fleming, and saying something 
 about going home with him. Then she 
 heard a firm step on the gravel, and 
 presently the pasture-gate swinging to; 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 52 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 and site went swiftly into the next apart- 
 ment, a cliarming bed-room, into which 
 the morning sun threw his first beams of 
 welcome and brightness. Of course it 
 was girlish to rush to a window to see the 
 last of a man who was — who could be — 
 nothing to her. Just as she stood in full 
 view of him, he turned round and saw her. 
 Vexed as she was, she stood her ground 
 while he took off his hat ; she returned his 
 bow, almost unwillingly, and then went 
 back. 
 
 '* How absurd of me ! What will he 
 think ? " Then, after a long pause, 
 *' He will bring me trouble. I wish — I 
 wish — I had never seen him. I woucler 
 why I was so nervous ? And why in the 
 world did I make that ridiculous engage- 
 ment for to-morrow ? However, that is 
 fortunately over. To think he should have 
 seen me bobbing cherries with those boys.
 
 laCHEU THAN WEALTIT. 53 
 
 I wonder i^ she loves him. I wonder if he 
 loves her. Impossible to know. And — 
 and what business is it of mine ? Heigh-ho ! 
 now for these letters." 
 
 And soon she was reading over again 
 some troublesome letters pressing for 
 payment of her brother's debts. She 
 considered them, and wrote off quickly 
 in her father's name. 
 
 *' Poor dear father/' she said with a 
 quivering lip, ''I fear his children have 
 not been much comfort to him vet." 
 
 Meanwhile Maynard walked on slowly. 
 
 " As if she would look at Harry, or any 
 other country boor," he thought. 
 
 It was really astonishiug how he 
 lingered on his way back to the Hall ; 
 there was no eagerness in his step, — nothing 
 about him to indicate his position of 
 affianced lover returning to his bride- 
 elect.
 
 54 • RK^.HER THAN AVE ALT FT. 
 
 While lie liad been passing througb. 
 some new experiences, Edith was reading 
 to her father in the study; her daily task, 
 ■ — not an interesting one, for the listener 
 was often captious, and difficult to please. 
 Moreover, Edith was very human, and to 
 sit for two hours in a warm, close room, 
 when everything was so fair and beautiful 
 outside, was a great trial to her this after- 
 noon. However, at length she was free, 
 and felt a little guilty for being so glad 
 of her release. John came to help her 
 father into his Bath-chair, and then Walter, 
 the garden-boy, would wheel him about in 
 the garden and elsewhere for an hour or 
 two. His daughter hurried to her room, 
 put on a shady hat, and taking a basket 
 and a large pair of scissors, followed him 
 into the sweet fresh air. 
 
 Edith's limited number of servants, both 
 indoors and out, necessitated her being
 
 EICllEK THAN WEALTH. 55 
 
 generally very busy, i^ot that slie paraded 
 lier business, and so made herself a bore; on: 
 the contraiy, she managed so well that most 
 people imagined she was a woman of leisure. 
 There could be no question about the beauty, 
 of the gardens around the Hall. Every 
 shrub appeared to flourish. Edith wisely 
 made no attempt at fashionable parterres 
 of flow^ers wuthout perfume, but, as at the 
 farm, all the varieties of the old-fashioned 
 perennials luxuriated there. Moreover the 
 lawns were large, and fringed by noble 
 elms, with here and there a wide-spreading 
 cedar of Lebanon, or melancholy cypress, 
 or dark Scotch pine. She loved this wild, 
 spacious garden, and tended her roses with 
 almost affectionate care. She could not 
 play, or paint, or sing so beautifully as 
 Dorcas could, but still she had the elements 
 of the artistic nature strong within her, 
 and could thoroughly appreciate the other's
 
 56 EICHER THAN" WEALTH. 
 
 greater cleverness and rarer accomplisli- 
 ments. She was too great to be either 
 envious or jealous of the younger and 
 fairer woman. So when Majnard came up 
 leisurely with his small burden of lihes, 
 he found Edith very busy among the rose- 
 trees, taking off the crumpled leaves and 
 dead blooms. 
 
 *' What a splendid example of industry 
 you are to lazy people ! '* 
 
 " Don't be satirical ; I like this kind of 
 thing, so it's no virtue on my part. And 
 then you see I am repaid by having lovely 
 roses." 
 
 *' Miss Finch sent you these lilies." 
 
 " How nice of her. Well ; what do you 
 think of her ? " 
 
 " I think she is charming ; but then she 
 is not the sort of girl one expects to meet 
 in a farm-house. I was hoping to meet 
 an aesthetic dairymaid ! Imagine my dis-
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 57 
 
 appointment, when I am greeted with the 
 good-breeding of Mayfair ! She does not 
 even make up the butter. She half pro- 
 mised to be in the dairy to-morrow at ten, 
 and reahze my picture of dairymaid ; but 
 with the most perfect ease and assurance, 
 she coolly told me at the last moment I 
 was not to go, as she had another engage- 
 ment ! " 
 
 "And don't you think she is very 
 beautiful ? " 
 
 " Yes ; " hesitating. 
 
 " Why do you hesitate ? there can be no 
 question about her beauty." . 
 
 " She is very pretty." 
 
 '' Pretty ! she is more than pretty ! " 
 
 '* I will allow she is more. She is very 
 beautiful," he said gravely. "You need 
 be under no apprehension as far as 
 regards Harry, he is far too much at ease 
 with her to be much in love. Besides,
 
 58 lUCnER THAN AVEALTH. 
 
 she treats liiiii as if lie were a little boy. 
 Ee and Anstey were there, making a 
 tremendous noise, when I went, and the 
 loveh^ Dorcas was bobbing cherries for 
 gloves." 
 
 '' Bobbing cherries for gloves ? Dorcas ! 
 I can't imaoine her doins^ such a tliino^. I 
 
 o n o 
 
 hope she is not getting fast." 
 
 '^ Well, she had the grace to look very 
 mucli ashamed of herself." 
 
 '' Did you see her brother ? " 
 
 " Yes ; decidedly bad form, but not 
 vicious, I should think. He is too 
 foolish to be very wicked. Dorcas has 
 evidently run aw^ay with all the brains 
 of the family. Now will you excuse 
 me a little while, I have some letters to 
 write, and your post goes so unconscionably 
 early." 
 
 Edith went on with her crumpled rose- 
 leaves ; but somehow her work was not so
 
 riCHER TIIAN WEALTH. 59 
 
 pleasant as it liacl been before Ma3'nard's 
 return. It was foolish, (ilie told her- 
 self again and again ; but still she fancied 
 some subtle chano-e in her ffuest, a chanoe 
 that made her feel a vague alarm. There 
 was the same courteous friendliness he had 
 ever shown her, but that new winning 
 tenderness which he had evinced the pre- 
 vious nio'ht was a,bsent. 
 
 He, when in his room, did not immedi- 
 ately begin his correspondence ; he looked 
 weary, and there was a certain sadness in 
 his face. 
 
 " Poor Dorcas," he said softly. '' I must 
 not meet you too often, lest I should be a 
 villain, and bring tears to 3"our lovely eyes." 
 
 That night Mr. and Mrs. Anstey and 
 Tom dined at the Hall. The rector and 
 his wife were most excellent people, 
 perhaps a little narrow and bigoted from 
 having everything so much their own Avay
 
 60 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 in the parish, but charitable and sincere. 
 Their family had married and were scattered 
 about in the world, and as a family they 
 had done very well. Tom, the youngest, 
 was in a merchant's office in London, and 
 he was the only Anstey who had not quite 
 done his duty. He had taken no scholar- 
 ship, and but few prizes. He and young 
 Finch had been educated at the grammar 
 school, while Harry Fleming had been to 
 Rugby. The three young men were always 
 together in the holidays, and it was allowed 
 by all that the trio were inclined to be 
 troublesome scapegraces. The intimacy 
 between the Hall and the Rectory was 
 great. Mrs. Anstey had been a great com- 
 fort to Edith in many extraneous matters, 
 but she knew nothing of the girl's heart, 
 for Edith had no confidant. Every thought 
 concerning Maynard was locked up in her 
 own bosom. Mrs. Anstey indeed thought
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 61 
 
 Editli's future position would be a brilliant 
 one Tvlien Captain Maynard succeeded to 
 Lis uncle's baronetcy and fine estate, as he 
 would in course of time. And slie further 
 tbouo'ht her friind had earned the rio^ht to 
 be rich, and much sought after, from 
 the patience with which she had borne a 
 ve}ry difficult position; for to guide a house 
 and to keep up most of the traditions of a 
 gentleman's standing, on a very meagre 
 income, was certainly a difficult matter for 
 a young lady who began her task with 
 small experience. 
 
 The dinner was jDleasant enough. Mr. 
 Anstey was a capital talker, and he and 
 Maynard made sufficient conversation for 
 the rest. But Edith, all the time Maynard 
 was talking, felt the difference between 
 yesterday and to-day. Then there had 
 been a spontaneity in his speech, a bright- 
 ness in his eye, a softness in his voice,
 
 62 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 whicli were lacking^ to-clav. Instead, she 
 read in his manner the desire to be what 
 she now knew he never could be to her — ■ 
 her lover. All that evening it was the 
 same, he studied her every wish wdth a 
 courtesy that wounded her. Mrs. Anstey 
 looking on, thought him perfection as a 
 lover, and wondered why Edith was so 
 pale and quiet. At night when the guests 
 were gone, and they two were alone 
 together a minute, he came to lier with no 
 smile on his face, no look in his eyes 
 betokeniuo- the tenderness of last nio-ht, no 
 little speech anent her coldness. He took 
 his candle without any sentimental linger- 
 ing, and bade her somewhat gravely a 
 formal good-night. 
 
 Edith, alone before her mirror, looked 
 at her face and smiled. Ah ! with what 
 sadness ! 
 
 '' I micrht have known how it would be.
 
 VdCUKll THAN WEALTH. 03 
 
 Poor cliild, it is not lier fault ; how can slie 
 help being what she is, fascinating and 
 lovely. She wonld be the last to wonnd 
 me, bnt innocently she must. God forbid 
 she should ever know how terribly — liovv" 
 terriblvl"
 
 64 EICHEE THAN WEALTH, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
 I summon up remembrance of things past, 
 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, 
 And with old woes new-wail my dear time's waste : 
 Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow. 
 For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, 
 And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe, 
 And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight." 
 Shakespeare, Sonnet 30. 
 
 Some forty years before the date of this 
 story, the Lady Anstruther — a remark- 
 ably benevolent, clever, and also some- 
 what eccentric lady — was staying at 
 Carstone Hall, the guest of her sister, 
 Mrs. Fleming. In those days the Flem- 
 ings held their heads very high, and in 
 position and wealth they were among the
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH, 65 
 
 first commoners in the county. Edith's 
 father was then a handsome, gay young 
 bachelor, much given to all the frivolities 
 and pleasures of young manhood. 
 
 One Sunday morning, when the Hall 
 family and their guests occupied the great 
 square pew in the chancel — it was in the 
 days anterior to restoration — Lady An- 
 struther's eyes were again and again drawn 
 to a beautiful face opposite to her in the 
 yeoman's pew, which in size and shape 
 w^as a fac-simile of the Hall pew. The 
 face of the young girl, with its grave, 
 thoughtful grey eyes and delicately- 
 moulded features, reminded Lady Anstru* 
 tlier of one of Raifaelle's or Carlo Dolci's 
 madonnas, and she was completely fasci- 
 nated. 
 
 She herself was fifty, — a widow with an 
 only son, who was at once the delight and 
 plague of her life. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 piCHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 The Finclies of the Hall Farm had for 
 generations been renowned for their good 
 looks. The girls, as a rule, were espe- 
 cially lovely, and the men tall, stalwart, 
 with keen, high-bred features. Lady 
 Anstruther much amused her sister, Mrs. 
 Fleming, who was an elegant, languid, 
 and slightly satirical woman, by her rap- 
 tures concerning the charming Milicent 
 Finch and her handsome brother. 
 
 " That such a lovely girl should be 
 buried down there ! " exclaimed the en- 
 thusiastic lady. 
 
 " Much better, Charlotte, than that she 
 should be taken from her proper position," 
 returned Mrs. Fleming, after hearing a 
 most romantic scheme of her sister's for 
 taking Milicent — half as companion and 
 half as friend — away with her to France to 
 be educated and polished into a well-bred 
 young lady.
 
 EICIIER THAN WEALTH. Q7 
 
 " I think yoii will find it a mistake," 
 continued Mrs. Fleming ; " of course 
 Anstruther will fall in love with her ; but 
 I suppose you are prepared for that." 
 
 '' Of course Anstruther will do nothinsf 
 of the kind ! He knows he must marry 
 Mary Verney by-and-by, when he really 
 will become serious." 
 
 " Well, you know your own affairs best. 
 I think it is most improbable that the 
 Finches will let you take Milicent away, 
 for they are exceedingly proud and correct 
 people. And just think what a respon- 
 sibility you incur in taking such an at- 
 tractive girl away from her parents' cai'e. 
 Just suppose, if any harm befell her ? " 
 
 " Dear me, Eleanor, why should any 
 harm befall her ? I am a romantic old 
 woman and have fallen in love with her 
 lovely face and appearance altogether. 
 You know I have longed all my life for 
 F 2
 
 68 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 a daughter, but Providence lias denied me 
 that happiness." 
 
 " T often think it has been a good 
 thing, Charlotte,'' said the other, laughing 
 a little. '^You would have spoiled any 
 daughter, and — and vou will spoil Milicent 
 Finch." 
 
 "Well, I shall go down to-morrow 
 morning and announce my proposal." 
 
 " I imagine you will be somewhat dis- 
 enchanted when you hear Milicent speak. 
 Her voice is charming, it is true, but she 
 uses the broadest vernacular of the 
 district." 
 
 " Well, we shall see, Eleanor. I mean 
 to be successful in my mission." 
 
 '* I really hope for the girl's sake that 
 you will not be. Why disturb her inno- 
 ceut young life with ambition ? Leave 
 her to love and marry some country 
 swain, and be like her mother — one of the
 
 EICHEE, THAN WEALTH. 69 
 
 best wives, mothers, and managers in the 
 county ! To say nothing of her powers 
 of cheese and butter-making ! " 
 
 " Eleanor, you disgust me ! Imagine 
 that lovely Milicent with red arms and a 
 red face scolding a set of dairymaids, 
 while she turned the cheeses ! " 
 
 " You will probably find her in the 
 dairy helping her mother to-morrow morn- 
 ing ; and in my opinion that is far the best 
 
 place for her — " 
 
 "You vex me, Eleanor; and I don't 
 
 want to be vexed. I want to dream of 
 
 my beautiful St. Theresa ! And now I 
 
 will sing, and then you can't irritate me." 
 
 Then she went to the piano and sang 
 finely and with much expression Handel's 
 " Angels ever bright and fair." 
 
 Mrs. Fleming's lip curled a little as she 
 smiled. Her sister's romance had always 
 amused her. They were both fine, hand-
 
 70 EIOHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 some, well-bred women, and were very 
 tendei^ly attached to each other. Edith 
 Fleming much resembled her grandmother, 
 but she had not inherited her languid, 
 elegant beauty. Perhaps Lady Anstru- 
 ther, when she made her visit to the farm, 
 was a little shocked to find that Milicent 
 abeady possessed hands and arms much 
 reddened by constant dippings in cold or 
 warm water ; and her sjDeech was certainly 
 extraordinary, when it came from such a 
 lovely mouth ! However, nothing could 
 banish the charm of her face and form. 
 The impulsive lady was taken by Mrs. 
 Finch into the great parlour, and when 
 there at once burst forth with her pro- 
 ject, to the astonishment and also to 
 the gratification of the mother, who 
 possessed most conservative and elevated 
 ideas as to the wisdom and goodness of 
 " the gentry." Lady Anstruther painted
 
 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 71 
 
 sucli a glowing picture of the happy life 
 she proposed for this child of her adop- 
 tion, that Mrs. Finch listened quite fasci- 
 nated, though naturally, as a mother, she 
 was loth to consent to any separation 
 from her child, however beneficial the 
 separation might be to the child herself. 
 
 Mrs. Fleming, who was much more far- 
 sighted than her sister, hoped the whole 
 scheme might fall through. Her sister, 
 she saw, was too interested, " too much 
 in love " to use her own phrase, to be 
 aware of all the perils and heart-aches 
 to which she might subject one who must 
 always be a lovely, and, with education, a 
 captivating woman. 
 
 But the indomitable Lady Anstruther 
 conquered, and carried off her new acquisi- 
 tion to France, where they passed the winter 
 at Nice. During that winter the countess 
 was herself the instructress of her young
 
 72 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 companion in all those things whicli only a 
 lady can teach. Masters taught the rustic 
 maiden various accomplishments, and when 
 Lady Anstruther returned to Paris for the 
 season, much of Milicent's rusticity had 
 disappeared, and that which remained 
 only added point to her beauty. 
 
 So years passed on, but not uneventf ally. 
 When tlie fascinating girl was in the zenith 
 of her beauty, that result occurred which 
 Mrs. Fleming had predicted. The wald, 
 charming Lord Anstruther fell madly and 
 unreasonably in love with his mother's pro- 
 tegee. His love was returned, but most re- 
 luctantly, by the poor girl, who, being of a 
 high and loyal nature, felt she was inno- 
 cently the cause of this greatest evil to her 
 benefactress. Lady Anstruther was too 
 just a woman not to know that the original 
 fault lay with herself. She could not blame 
 her son for loving one w^hom she herself
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 73 
 
 idolized. She was most unhappy. She 
 did venture to remind Anstruther of 
 the proposed marriage to Miss Yerney. 
 One night Mihcent spent some hours in 
 the countess's room. The girl herself 
 sought the interview. What passed be- 
 tween those two women none ever knew, 
 but the heroic Milicent sacrificed her life 
 for the sake of the woman whom she so 
 tenderly loved. 
 
 Lord Anstruther hurried away from 
 Paris witli grief and rage in his heart, and 
 for some months astonished the world by 
 his wildness, until he suddenly astonished 
 it still more by a somewhat hasty marriage 
 to pretty Mary Verney. 
 
 Meanwhile an elderly and a young lady 
 travelled about from city to city on the Con- 
 tinent, and sometimes the elder lady would 
 look with something like remorse on her 
 companion, whose \ery goodness, whose
 
 74 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 very tenderness, stabbed her. Motber and 
 son were divided, for he attributed MiHcent's 
 refusal to her influence. To each of those 
 quiet ladies the tidings of the beloved, 
 regretted man's profligacy were terrible, 
 and poor Lady Anstruther felt guilty of 
 the trouble she had brought to a very 
 noble heart. But his marriage brought 
 about a reconciliation with his mother, who 
 for some months stayed in her old home 
 as his guest, while Milicent returned to 
 Carstone after some years' absence. But 
 Carstone was no longer her home. Had 
 she been less noble, less loyal, she might 
 have reproached Lady Anstruther for 
 having taken her to the gates of Paradise, 
 and then barred her entrance thither. 
 Milicent instead, took herself to task be- 
 cause she was shocked by some of her 
 good mother's and sisters' vulgarisms. 
 Home ! Where was her home ! Not under
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 75 
 
 her father's roof. Alas ! alas ! it might 
 have been with one of whom she might not 
 think without sin. After a few weeks, in 
 which she suffered an amount of pain from 
 the division which had arisen between 
 herself and her own people, which seemed 
 to herself only the result of her own mis- 
 understanding, she returned to that home 
 and that adopted mother to whom all her 
 longing and sympathy seemed to rebound. 
 After this reunion the two friends never 
 separated, except for a few short days in 
 England, wdien they each paid visits to 
 their respective relatives. Ten years after 
 her refusal, Milicent met Lord Anstruther 
 at the bedside of his dying mother. They 
 met w4th all those memories lying between 
 them; he a grave, courteous man, she a 
 sweet, self-possessed woman with gracious 
 calm, and patient eyes. The dying woman 
 looked from one to the other as they stood
 
 76 laCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 by Tier. Ali 1 the eloquence of tliat silence 
 — the terrible eloquence, breathing of what 
 might have been. The strong man could 
 not bear it ; he left them alone for a time. 
 Then the pathetic eyes were raised to the 
 pale, noble face, — 
 
 '' Have — have you forgiven me ? " asked 
 the faint voice, with entreaty and eager- 
 ness to be convinced. 
 
 " I had nothing to forgive. Do not be 
 distressed my dearest, kindest friend." 
 
 " I thought it was best. I thought — " 
 
 " It was best," said the other with the 
 sweetest of smiles, while she bent over 
 and kissed the wan, kind face on which 
 death was stealing. 
 
 ''No, no, I see now I was wrong all 
 through. Ah ! what would I give to recall 
 the fatal past." 
 
 '' Dear Lady Anstruther, for— for ony 
 sake turn your thoughts elsewhere; you
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 77 
 
 would not destroy your son's happiness 
 by useless regrets ! " 
 
 " Useless, indeed! " slie moaned. '* Yes, 
 it is too late, my darling, by ten years — " 
 
 A few days after the countess quietly 
 passed away, leaving poor IVIilicent 
 strangely and pathetically bereft in the 
 silent, darkened house. Lord Anstruther 
 came to bid her farewell, before he left for 
 England, and home. For a minute he 
 kept her hand in his. 
 
 '* It was not true, what you said in 
 this room ten years ago?" he asked 
 sadly. 
 
 ''Not quite true. Lord Anstruther." 
 
 " You did me a great wrong ; but it 
 was at my poor dear mother's command — " 
 
 '']S"o, my lord; it was — it was my own 
 decision." 
 
 *' Your decision ? " 
 
 ^'Yes."
 
 78 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 '' I don't understand you." 
 
 " Your mother knew your marriage to 
 me would be a fatal mistake, my lord; 
 but she left the decision entirely in my own 
 hands, after she had most lovingly and 
 tenderly told me all the circumstances. 
 Do you think I could so basely repay her 
 extraordinary kindness by injuring her? 
 I — I did not tell you the exact truth, my 
 lord ; I thought the urgency of the case 
 would pardon my evasion." 
 
 "You are a noble woman;" he said 
 huskily. '' I have named my eldest 
 daughter Milicent. I trust with your name 
 she may possess something of your high- 
 mindedness. My wife knows my story — 
 our story. I have much to cure and soothe 
 an old wound. But what have you ? " 
 
 '' The approval of my conscience, and 
 the remembrance of your mother's love, 
 my lord." And then — though she was very
 
 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 79 
 
 pale — slie smiled. " Believe me, I Lave 
 been for years liappy in hearing of your 
 happiness. My decision was right. As 
 time separates us still more, I shall be 
 to you only the memory of the lost love 
 of your youth." 
 
 " Ah, the sweetest, dearest memory of 
 my life ! Milicent — as in death — one last 
 embrace, for we shall meet no more." . . . 
 
 The late countess had been able to be- 
 queath her faithful friend some three or 
 four thousand pounds, and had strongly 
 advised her, with this capital, to open a 
 school in Paris for English girls of the 
 higher class ; and almost the last work she 
 did was to write to all her friends, and ask 
 them to support Milicent in her under- 
 taking. 
 
 The school was eventually started, but 
 financially it was not a great success. 
 Milicent was perhaps too conscientious
 
 80 KICnEU THAN WEALTH. 
 
 to make money out of her pupils. How- 
 ever, she had found a comfortable home, 
 and delighted in her work. Naturally, 
 lier pupils loved her much, and it was 
 their own fault if they did not catch some- 
 thin.o- of the sweetness and hio-hminded- 
 ness of their beautiful and cultivated in- 
 structress. Amongst her first pupils, 
 were two of Lord Anstruther's daughters. 
 It may be imagined those young girls were 
 Tery dear to her. 
 
 Once a year she paid a visit to the old 
 farm; and after one visit she returned 
 accompanied by a young rustic maiden, 
 lovely, provincial — herself over again, 
 thought the lady, holding her niece's hand, 
 and looking into the sweet young face. God 
 grant this young life miglit be spared such 
 a sorrow as that which had long turned 
 her own hair wdiite ! 
 
 From that hour Milicent Finch lived in
 
 EI CHER THAN WEALTH. 81 
 
 Dorcas. When the latter first went to Paris 
 she was about fourteen, and her aunt f ortj- 
 six. The Ladies MiHcent and Maud 
 Ilchester had long left; but there were many 
 others there under the favoured care of this 
 goodwoman. Milicentwas no longer lonely. 
 It was the highest, sweetest labour of love 
 to direct her niece's education ; here at last 
 there was some one whom she mis^ht call 
 her own, for she had innocently thought 
 she might keep this young nestling in 
 her own home. But as time went on, 
 she was sometimes almost frightened, 
 when she saw how lovely and clever 
 Dorcas was growing. There was nothing 
 old-maidish about Milicent. Sometimes 
 she would give her pupils the rare treat of 
 hearing her read, or recite, some fine 
 dramatic verse in French or Italian, or 
 some scenes from her favourite Shake- 
 speare, which brought in the characteristics 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 of his noble women. Then her audience 
 of young girls would listen spell-bound, 
 and wonder at the transformed, beautiful 
 woman, who for the moment was young 
 again, whose exquisite voice thrilled with 
 passion, whose gestures betrayed all the 
 power of a long repressed life — and then 
 the flame of enthusiasm would die out, and 
 she would sink back again into the grave, 
 kindly lady, and forget that she had 
 betrayed a vision of her youth to her de- 
 lighted and charmed pupils. They one and 
 all felt her influence, for they were most 
 of them at that difficult period of a girl's 
 life when, unless well-directed, they are 
 apt to become mawkish and sentimental. • 
 After nearly six years of the closest 
 companionship between herself and 
 Dorcas, poor Milicent's health suddenly 
 failed. Often had she wished to tell her 
 own story to Dorcas, perhaps as a warn-
 
 ErCHEU THAN WEALTH. 83 
 
 in Of ; but death came earlier than the 
 devoted woman had anticipated, and the 
 story was never told. Dorcas, watching by 
 the dvino- bed, wondered with awe what 
 those words of entreaty and grief might 
 mean, " Tovjoiirs, tovjoursJ^ 
 
 So when nearly twenty years old, Dorcas 
 Finch returned to her home almost a 
 stranger; but she was an idolized child ; 
 love smoothed away man}' harsh incon- 
 gruities ; and in response to the beautiful 
 affection which met her, she determined 
 humbly to make that home as happy as 
 possible, and so repay the love which was 
 lavished upon her.
 
 84 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 " Soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of s^Yeet harmony." 
 
 Mercliant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1. 
 
 " For where is any author in the world 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye 1 " 
 
 Loves Labour Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. 
 
 Captain Maynaed fell into tlie habit of ac- 
 companying Harry in liis daily visits to the 
 farm, leaving the Hall after lunch, and 
 when Edith was always with her father, 
 either reading or chatting. In truth, to a 
 man accustomed to much variety in the 
 way of amusement and recreation, the 
 life at Carstone Hall was not parti- 
 cularly diverting. A spirited game of 
 tennis with Dorcas, who with her brothers 
 played well, very much enlivened the tedium
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTir. 85 
 
 of the twentj-four hours. The stables 
 possessed only aa indifferent mare (which 
 Harry claimed as his especial property), 
 and Edith's pony, waich was ancient 
 and slug^o-ish. 
 
 Of course, if he had bsen an enraptured 
 lover he would have driven his fiancee all 
 round the neighbourhood in the pony-chaise, 
 only too happy to spend long hours in the 
 Arcadian woods ; but unfortunately neither 
 Edith nor himself ever expressed or felt any 
 inclination for any tete-a-tete drives. Must 
 it be confessed that time hung heavy on his 
 hands, and that occasionally he felt very 
 much bored ? Tennis Avas varied by cricket, 
 and now and then a day's trout fish- 
 ing, which generally ended in disappoint- 
 ment. He knew very w^ell he ought not to 
 go to the farm, but the temptation w^as soon 
 irresistible. Those two hours were the 
 cream of the whole da}^ He dared not
 
 86 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 ask himself wliither lie was drifting. To 
 be in that young girl's presence, to hear 
 her voice, to watch all. the j)lay of emotional 
 expression on her lovely face, was enough 
 — perhaps too great happiness. At this 
 time she met him without embarrassment, 
 all her bearing suggestive of freedom of 
 spirit ; he was indeed a delightful addition 
 to her narrow circle, and she always 
 cordially welcomed him. 
 
 Besides Harry and Anstey, af fcer the first 
 fortnight another young man joined those 
 tennis games occasionally. This was Reu- 
 ben Williams, and the country gossips said 
 he was a suitor for the hand of the fair 
 Dorcas. He was a man of very different 
 stamp from the others who were so con- 
 stantly there. He was about thirty; a 
 thoughtful man, strong and reserved. His 
 face was square and rather grim, his hair 
 very dark, his qomplexion swarthy, and
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 87 
 
 his expression stern. Not one to make 
 friendships in liaste, but once a friend 
 always a friend ; a man of strong prejudices 
 but of cool judgment. Eatlier exacting, be- 
 cause he never neglected a duty. And yet, 
 with all this hardness and self-discipline, 
 he possessed a fund of unchanging tender- 
 ness and love for Dorcas. His home, 
 Weston Grange, lay about six miles away 
 from the Hall Farm, and that home was one 
 of Eeuben's greatest delights. The pro- 
 perty was his, and had been his great-grand- 
 father's before him; but his family had never 
 ranked above the other yeomen of the valley. 
 Though proprietors, instead of tenants, they 
 had been quite without ambition to push 
 themselves up a little higher in the social 
 scale. Eeuben was thoroughly well-to-do. 
 It was his pride to have his land as well-cul- 
 tivated, his cattle as well-bred and as well- 
 fatted as any in the shire. His cart-horses
 
 88 PICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 were known for tlieir strength and splendid 
 condition. A stern, strict master he was, 
 and consequently well-served. The Grange 
 was very much like the old manor-house at 
 the farm : the same Tudor style, the same 
 greystone, the same picturesque outlines, 
 the same pleasant gardens; only Reuben 
 possessed greenhouses, and forcing-pits; 
 and the Grange garden boasted many rare 
 and beautiful flowers which were never 
 seen at the simpler farm. 
 
 Mr. Williams was considered the great 
 catch of all the country-side, and many a girl 
 had tried and failed. His father had given 
 him a good education, and Eeuben, being 
 naturally of an inquiring mind, had greatly 
 improved that education by constant read- 
 iag. At the time he first really made Cap- 
 tain Maynard's acquaintance, he was a culti- 
 vated man. Rather shy and reserved in his 
 manner, he was nevertheless not awkward.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 89 
 
 Maynard liked him — considered him a good 
 fellow and a gentleman. It would be im- 
 possible to say why the two men met with 
 a certain mutual antagonism, but they did. 
 The Captain w^as astute enough to guess 
 the position of affairs with Williams, and 
 the latter suddenly saw a new peril threaten- 
 ing Dorcas. Reuben heard with astonish- 
 ment her easy talk with this too fascinating 
 stranger, who treated her w4th such puncti- 
 lious courtesy. He knew Maynard was just 
 the man to captivate a woman, possessing as 
 he did that charming manner which women 
 cannot resist; the manner was natural to him, 
 he was too real a gentleman to be artificial. 
 Reuben had long had an impression that 
 Captain Maynard found the marriage con- 
 tract with Edith Fleming a most galling im- 
 position, because he was indifferent to her. 
 Thinking of all this, he felt much anxiety for 
 Dorcas. He saw she was more than in-
 
 DO lUCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 terested in the stately dark-eyed man, but 
 that as yet his presence had no ]30wer to 
 disturb her. What unhappy fate had driven 
 him thither ? For a long time he himself had 
 abandoned the hope of winning her; but 
 that did not prevent him from loving her, 
 and watching over her with a jealous, tender 
 care. In this liking for Maynard he saw- 
 nothing but heart-ache and misery for her. 
 She herself was lovely and sweet enough 
 to be the wife of any one, even higher than 
 Maynard in the social scale ; but could he 
 be expected to marry her, even if he could 
 break his bond to Edith, when her relatives 
 were so different from herself ? Thus pon- 
 dered Reuben as he rode home slowly in 
 the quiet moonlight. 
 
 Trouble appeared to be hovering over 
 the old house in more ways than one. 
 Jim, utterly selfish and unprincipled, had 
 only lately, so it was whispered, lost a
 
 EIOIIER. THAN" AVEALTIl. 91 
 
 large sum of money on the Derby, and it 
 was now common gossip that old Finch 
 could not pay his son's debts; and that, 
 unless the harvest was a prosperous one, 
 he would have to give up the farm where 
 his family had lived and been tenants of the 
 Flemings for more than three hundredyears. 
 Reuben had long kept some liundreds in the 
 bank at Exton ready to help his old friend 
 in any emergency. But as yet the proud 
 old man had never asked the younger 
 for any help, and the latter had felt a 
 great reluctance to offer it. For Jim he 
 had only the hardest judgment ; he most 
 thoroughly despised and disliked him. 
 But he knew very well, that so long as his 
 generous father forgave him, so long would 
 he go on sinning and repenting, until the 
 good old man and the other members of 
 tlie family were ruined. 
 
 Captain Maynard had but recently left
 
 92 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 the array; a step which he took in obedience 
 to his uncle's wishes, but very much to 
 his own regret. He had much desired 
 to exchange, and go to India again, instead 
 of remaining a mere carpet-knight in the 
 midst of pleasant society. Like most 
 men, he craved for some opportunity in 
 which he might distinguish, himself. But 
 his uncle dashed all his hopes to the 
 ground, by putting his veto on any further 
 military exploits, and proposed that his 
 nephew should turn his thoughts and 
 energies to politics instead, with a view of 
 standing for the eastern division of the 
 county by-and-by. So at the time of his 
 visit to Carstone he was a perfectly idle 
 man. Sir William had recommended 
 certain blue books and pamphlets for his 
 perusal, but these reposed very com- 
 fortably beneath some ^French novels in a 
 portmanteau in his bedroom.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 93 
 
 About a week after their first introduc- 
 tion, he w^as chatting to Dorcas as they sat 
 on the lawn, while Jim and Harry were 
 having game after game of tennis with 
 even fortune. Said Maynard, — 
 
 '' I broug^ht Miss Fleming: some Italian 
 and "other photographs, — reminiscences of 
 my travels last year. I should like you to 
 see them." 
 
 '' Thank you ; I daresay I shall some 
 day. So you have been a great traveller, 
 Captain Maynard ? " 
 
 '' Not very great ; but I was in India 
 two years w^ith my detachment, and I have 
 generally tried to get a month or six 
 weeks on the Continent every year." 
 
 '' How^ nice ; that is just what I should 
 like, only travelling is so expensive." 
 
 " I should very much like to make the 
 grand tour of modern days ; right round 
 the world, you know, Miss Finch."
 
 0-1^ KICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 '• All ! SO should I ; perhaps I may some 
 day when I liave made my fortune." 
 
 " Made your fortune ? " 
 
 '' I see you think me blmdly egotistical 
 and silly, but, nevertlieless, I am so am- 
 bitious as to be going to try at least for 
 the Golden Fleece." 
 
 " In what way are you ambitious may I 
 ask ? " said he, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 " Well, I think I may trust you, though 
 you are a very new^ acquaintance. My 
 greatest desh^e is to become a professional 
 sin O'er." 
 
 *' A professional singer ! You ! " 
 
 '' Yes, I. Do you see anything extra- 
 ordinary in my proposal ? " 
 
 " You don't look cut out for such 
 notoriety." 
 
 '' I only hope I may become famous ! I 
 really possess a very fair voice, you know, 
 Captain Maynard, and if it was properly
 
 EJOHEll THAN AVEALTH. 05 
 
 cultivated I tliink I mio-lit become — ^vell, 
 say a second-rate singer." 
 
 " Pray be first-rate if you are any tiling. 
 I should imagine you would find sucli a 
 career full of annoyance," lie said gravely. 
 
 '' Why ? Look at tbe numbers of other 
 women and girls who go in for music and 
 make it pay." 
 
 " Few women wliom I have heard or 
 seen on the stage possess your attractions. 
 Pardon me if I speak a little too plainly." 
 
 " But you mistake ; I have no idea of 
 going on the stage — that I should dislike. 
 My appearance in public would bo at 
 oratorios, music meetings, and concerts 
 generally ; the ' attractions ' you mention 
 might make me more — more popular," 
 she said, blushing slightly, and looking 
 into his face with a smile. 
 
 '' Surely you would hate such popu- 
 larity ? "
 
 96 EICHEIl THAN WEALTIT. 
 
 '' It would be a matter of supreme 
 indifference to me, so long as I felt I 
 really sang well." 
 
 " I should have thought you would have 
 shrunk from all such notoriety." 
 
 '' I don't see why I should shrink. I 
 should expect the British public to treat 
 me respectfully and civilly. If I were a 
 very great lady, perhaps, some people 
 would say I lost caste in becoming a pro- 
 fessional singer; but seeing I am only 
 Dorcas Finch, what can it matter ? " 
 
 " But you cannot step into such a 
 position at once ; you must be taught and 
 go through all the horrible routine of — " 
 
 " Exactly, I shall probably have to un- 
 learn miicli that I have learned before; 
 all that will be very disagreeable, but not 
 impossible." 
 
 ''Does your father know of this wild 
 scheme ? "
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 97 
 
 " Oh, no ! not yet. You see I have not 
 matured my plans." 
 
 '* But would he approve it ? " 
 
 '' I am not sure. He is much of your way 
 of thinking about women ; he thinks they 
 can't be too quiet, or too — too domestic. 
 I expect he will oppose my wish at first, 
 but after a time he will see it with my eyes." 
 
 " Are you so self-reliant? Do you think 
 your own judgment infallible as to what is 
 best for you ? It is a dangerous reliance 
 for one so youug, and so utterly unac- 
 quainted wath the world. You should be 
 content to be guided by others." 
 
 '' Meaning my father and yourself." 
 
 " Your father certainly ; my acquaintance 
 is too recent to authorize my giving you 
 advice." 
 
 *' And yet for the last quarter of an hour 
 you have been advising me, and pointing 
 out the dreadful dangers I must encounter! 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 98 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 But, seriously, Captain Maynard, I think 
 the treatment a girl receives in the world 
 depends altogether upon herself. If she 
 respects herself she will be perfectly free 
 fi^om insult." 
 
 " ]S[ot always, alas ! when — when she is 
 as beautiful as you are." 
 
 '' Thank you ; that is a very pretty com- 
 pliment. I am afraid I shock all your 
 ideas of propriety. Now, I have more 
 than a suspicion that it is not quite pro})er 
 of me to have made you, a perfect stranger 
 to me a week ago, the confidant of my 
 cherished hopes ! But I have the unfor- 
 tunate knack of becoming friendly at once 
 with people whom — whom I don't dislike. 
 Xow, promise me that you will take a 
 number of tickets for my first concert, and 
 then you shall witness my triumph." 
 
 '' Do not think too much of the 
 triumph," he said sadly. Then more
 
 EICHEU THAN WEALTH. 99 
 
 lightly, " You may depend upon it, I will 
 be present and witness your debut. I don't 
 believe Harry has given you his sister's 
 note, has he ? Miss Fleming wants you 
 very much to come up and spend the day 
 to-morrow, if you have no engagement." 
 
 " I shall have much pleasin^e in going ; 
 my engagements are not too numerous. 
 I shall be obliged if you will say nothing 
 about my grand scheme for the future. 
 It really seems odd to be asking you to 
 keep a secret, but I think I can trust you." 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 ''I cannot believe any one belonging to 
 Miss Fleming could be unworthy of trust," 
 she said, looking into his face gravely. 
 And there was something in the fearless- 
 ness of her expression that stabbed him. 
 
 The next day, a little before lunch, 
 Dorcas made her appearance at the Hall. 
 There were several strangers there ; young 
 n 2
 
 100 KlCilER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 people from a distance, who rather turned 
 up their noses with contempt when the 
 farmer's daughter came in fresh and lovely 
 from her walk. Edith welcomed her with 
 much kindness. Poor Edith was trying 
 in the bitterness of her spirit to see the 
 beauty of self-sacrifice. As yet the beauty 
 was invisible, but the vision of a long life 
 bereft of all its sweetest ties was constantly 
 before her. Some women would have 
 hated the innocent Dorcas ; and so would 
 she if Dorcas had been a designing, in- 
 sincere girl. But Edith, in the great 
 lonehness and despair of her heart, turned 
 with a strange, inexplicable yearning to 
 her rival ; she must love her, and she 
 must also protect her. The contemptuous 
 young people soon became ashamed of 
 themselves, and condescended to treat 
 Miss Finch with civility. Envy and 
 malicG they might feel, but they thought
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 101 
 
 better not to exhibit those pleasant 
 qualities. 
 
 Dorcas assumed nothing ; she only held 
 her own like a quiet, well-bred lady as she 
 was. Eight people were soon at tennis. 
 The first set Maynard played, having Edith 
 for his partner. The next set Edith excused 
 herself, and only watched the games. 
 John brought out strawberries, cherries, 
 and various " cups " to refresh the eager 
 players. Of course Miss Fleming's eyes 
 were most frequently directed to one 
 couple, — a graceful girl, with an exquisite 
 smile, dark grey eyes, and brown hair 
 which seemed to have caught the sun in it 
 — a stately, graceful man, who treated his 
 partner with a frank and courteous kind- 
 ness ; — too much of the gentleman within 
 him to betray any of that treacherous 
 tenderness which made him wish he had 
 never been born.
 
 102 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 After five o'clock tea, all went away 
 except Dorcas, wlio was to dine witli tliem 
 sans ceremonie. The Ansteys again joined 
 tlie party, which was on the whole a 
 most agreeable one. The old squire 
 was pleased to express great approval of 
 Dorcas. " Wondered where the deuce she 
 had got her fine breeding," and so forth. 
 
 " I hope you have brought some music, 
 Dorcas," said Edith, when the ladies were 
 alone in the drawing-room. 
 
 '' No ; but I can play a few things 
 from memory. I want you to sing to- 
 night ; I wall play your accompaniments." 
 
 " I am not quite in the vein, I am 
 afraid; besides, I want Mrs. Anstey to 
 hear you." 
 
 " Then I will sing a duet with you." 
 
 " Well, play us something now ; the 
 songs must be left, I suppose, until the 
 gentlemen come in."
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 103 
 
 Dorcas seated herself, and began to play 
 softly and with much expression. It was 
 some simple air coming in again and again 
 with a rather melancholy refrain. Then 
 came lights, voices, and tea ; then the pro- 
 posed duet, which elicited so much warm 
 approval that they gave another, and finally 
 Harry joined them in a trio. The elders 
 sat down to whist. While Mrs. Anstey 
 was playing, her attention was attracted 
 to a couple at the other end of the room, 
 where Maynard was showing Dorcas the 
 photographs he had spoken of. They 
 were standing by a table, and indeed 
 formed of themselves a striking picture. 
 Maynard 's face was lighted up with a fine 
 interest and enthusiasm, while he explained 
 in very happy terms the wonderful repre- 
 sentations of the famous cities, works of 
 art, or beautiful country scenes he had 
 visited and loved. And Dorcas was listen-
 
 104 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 ing with, a rapt, dreamy expression , carried 
 away by his sweet speech, and all uncon- 
 scious of any wrong. Mrs. Anstey took 
 off her spectacles, rubbed them, restored 
 them to her high-bridged nose, and looked 
 harder than ever at the beautiful culprit. 
 Meanwhile Edith was playing an accom- 
 paniment to Harry's violin, wdiich the 
 young fellow had not yet perfectly 
 mastered; indeed occasionally the notes 
 were excruciating. 
 
 With Mrs. Anstey, Dorcas had never 
 been a favourite. Indeed, between them 
 there was a tacit understanding of 
 antagonism. Mrs. Anstey was obliged 
 to acknowledge that Dorcas was in all 
 points an accomplished lady, and she re- 
 sented the necessity. 
 
 "Preposterous," she would say, "that a 
 mere farmer's daughter should be so ridi- 
 culously over-educated. Sent to Paris,
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 105 
 
 indeed ! As if our English schools were 
 not good enough." 
 
 Then she would tell Dorcas openly 
 the great danger of thinking or feeling 
 herself above her station in life, and 
 always ended by recommending her to 
 go out as a nursery-governess. But now 
 Mrs. Anstey's wrath boiled over: here 
 was this artful girl really trying to entrap 
 Captain Maynard into an abominable flirta- 
 tion, and Edith was blind and stupid 
 enough to allow her to meet him on terms 
 of equality. Her indignation got the better 
 of her judgment ; she lost her clue of the 
 game, and trumped the squire's best card. 
 
 This unfortunate mistake produced a 
 sudden storm of strong language from the 
 choleric old man, who was a fine whist- 
 player, and who W' as also intolerant of a 
 careless or stupid partner. Maynard and 
 Dorcas were abruptly recalled from their
 
 106 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 pleasant dreamland ; the fiddle gave out a 
 screech hideous to the ear, and the squire 
 flung his cards on the ground. Though 
 Edith was accustomed to these passionate 
 outbursts from her father, she was vexed 
 that others, especially Maynard and Dorcas, 
 should witness his weakness. 
 
 ''Shall I sing something?" asked 
 Dorcas, wishing to bridge over the awk- 
 ward break, which occurred for a minute, 
 when the squire had exhausted him- 
 self. 
 
 "Yes, please, dear," returned Edith, with 
 genuine thankfulness. 
 
 Dorcas at once began Gounod's " Oh, 
 that w^e two were maying ! " and the charm- 
 ing song even somewhat propitiated the 
 offended Mrs. Anstey, whose want of 
 charity had been the cause of the unplea- 
 sant interruption. The squire, loud in 
 praise, insisted on another song, and
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 107 
 
 then another; and by that time he was 
 quite jubilant, and had forgotten all about 
 the ace of diamonds ; w^hile presently, 
 when Dorcas left the piano, he called her 
 to him and made her a pretty little speech 
 of thanks. 
 
 Then the Ansteys took their leave; 
 but it was much later wdien the four 
 young people strolled out into the soft 
 moonlight. Edith, Maynard, and Harry 
 were going to take Dorcas home. Silently 
 they passed on through the dewy meads, 
 in the peaceful night. Maynard, touched 
 with the poetry and passion of the hour, 
 murmured, — 
 
 " In such a night as this, 
 "When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 And they did make no noise — in such a night, 
 Troikis, niethinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul towards the Grecian tents, 
 AVhere Cressid lay that night." 
 
 Long, long after, Editli remembered that
 
 108 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 moonliglit walk ; remembered the thrill in 
 Maynard's voice as he repeated passage 
 after passage of fine poetry applicable to 
 the scene and time. It seemed to her as 
 if he could not refrain ; as if some powerful 
 impulse drove him on and made him ever 
 more attractive. As the Scotch people 
 say, he was '' fey," which means, being in a 
 state of such great mental exhilaration 
 that it either bodes death or misfortune. 
 Dorcas had scarcely opened her lips, but 
 she felt the enchantment of the hour as 
 she walked by Edith's side and drank in all 
 the passionate music of Maynard's voice. 
 At the gate, where they were met by a 
 thousand sweet odours, they exchanged 
 good-nights, and, waiting until Dorcas was 
 safely in her home, returned. 
 
 Then Maynard's romance vanished too. 
 Harry, supposing he was very much de trop, 
 lighted his pipe and walked off at a fair
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 109 
 
 pace, leaving the engaged couple to fol- 
 low at their leisure. Here was a fine 
 opportunity for tender love-making ! 
 Moonlight, dewy eve, what was there 
 not, indeed, to touch the imagination, to 
 weave illusive dreams ! Sad as she was, 
 Edith could not help smiling with a cer- 
 tain proud scorn at the irony of the 
 situation, while Maynard talked to her as 
 prosaically as if she had been his grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Nearly a month passed, and on several 
 occasions Dorcas had been at the Hall. 
 The squire especially liked her society, and 
 was never happier than when he was 
 listening to her sweet voice. He could 
 still be very courtly when he liked ; and he 
 treated Dorcas with a consideration and 
 courteous fatherly kindness that quite sur- 
 prised Edith, who, though bewildered by 
 the turn events were taking, still resolutely
 
 110 KICHER THAX WEALTH. 
 
 tried to possess her heart in patience, and 
 wait. 
 
 Though Captain Maynard's visits to 
 the farm were less frequent, because he 
 feared they might cause remark, it was 
 only there he Avas happy, though in a wild, 
 unrestful fashion. He passionately loved 
 Dorcas, but as yet he had been so guarded 
 — so fearful of overstepping the boundary 
 which divided them — that she was ignorant 
 of the truth, and only more and more 
 drawn to him in what she supposed was 
 most platonic and innocent friendship. 
 Had any one told her that he was becom- 
 ing very dear to her, she would have 
 rejected the insinuation with indignant 
 anger. In her isolated position, and 
 with an imagination ever dwelling on the 
 more poetical and beautiful side of life's 
 drama, she felt doubly all the fascina- 
 tion exercised by a cultivated, courteous
 
 ErCHER THAN WEALTH. Ill 
 
 gentleman. Captain Maynarcl was so 
 different from tliose whom she met in 
 her daily life; lie seemed to possess in- 
 tuitively the gift of understanding her. 
 They met harmoniously in a thousand 
 likes and dislikes, and she enjoyed and 
 appreciated the strength of his masculine 
 mind, which exercised so much power 
 over her own. Of course, the motive- 
 power of her delight in his society was 
 the deepest passion of humanity ; but of 
 this she was as yet ignorant — drifting on 
 with the pleasant tide which by-and-by 
 was to land her on a shore begirt with 
 pitiless breakers, through which she must 
 pass before she could gain freedom and 
 safety. 
 
 One morning when he was there, slie 
 came out into the garden singing a pretty 
 French song, and looking altogether so 
 charming, so brilliantly happy, that he
 
 J 12 HIGHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 feared lie should betray himself, and then 
 the beautiful romance would vanish. As 
 thej, with their tennis-bats in hand, 
 walked across the lawn to a favourite 
 seat to chat awhile, she little imagined 
 that never again w^ould she meet him 
 there with the same frank innocence, the 
 same gaiety. But Maynard knew, when 
 he coloured under the glance of her serene 
 eyes, that soon the inevitable crisis 
 must come. Great heaven ! Had she 
 any idea of all her charm of manner, 
 which, combined with her loveliness, fas- 
 cinated so ? 
 
 They began talking of names in a 
 manner half-badinage. Said he, — 
 
 " What a pretty, quaint name Dorcas 
 is ! " 
 
 '' Yes, I think it is ; but Dorcas Finch is 
 not romantic, is it ? Dear, dear, how I 
 should have liked a grand name; say, Gwen-
 
 EICHER THAX WEALTH. 113 
 
 doline Fortescue, or Georgina Mandeville, 
 or Arethusa Chicliester, or Venetia Her- 
 bert. Dorcas Finch is, alas ! so liorribly 
 short and plebeian," she said, smiling 
 with a scornful, pretty irony into his 
 face. 
 
 '' I know a Yenetia — Venetia Stanley." 
 
 " iSTow that is a pretty name. Though 
 I daresay she is Lady Yenetia." 
 
 "' No, she is plain Miss Stanley," he 
 said, amused and flattered by a momentary 
 something akin to chagrin in her eyes. 
 
 " I suppose Miss Stanley is not plain 
 though." 
 
 *' No, she is handsome and very nice." 
 
 Dorcas gave him a quick, penetrating 
 look. 
 
 " Xo, we are only friends," he replied, 
 smiling back, " and our friendship is of the 
 most matter of fact order." 
 
 Dorcas blushed scarlet with vexation. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 EI CHER THAN WExVLTH. 
 
 "Miss Stanley lias been mj friend from 
 very tender years," he continued, while 
 his eyes drank in the picture of the girl's 
 proud, delicate, and half-averted face. 
 Just then a great throb of passionate love 
 and remorse set his pulses beating. Ah, 
 to be bound ! — To have his destiny marked 
 out into lines which were now abhorrent 
 to him I Two lives to be sacrificed to 
 humour the whims of a tja^annical old 
 woman. It was monstrous. 
 
 " You will most likely meet Miss Stan- 
 ley by-and-by, when you are a famous 
 singer, you know," with a smile. '^ She is 
 very musical, and — and she is also a friend 
 of Miss Fleming's." 
 
 ''Of course ; yes, I remember having 
 heard her name now." 
 
 And Dorcas remembered too what 
 Maynard had not chosen to tell her, that 
 this Miss Stanley was a capricious beauty
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 115 
 
 wlio had rejected many grand alliances, 
 and who was moreover the granddaughter 
 of a noble duke. 
 
 " I wonder," she said impulsively, 
 " that 3^ou could leave London just in the 
 height of the season — of course I don't 
 mean that," she stammered out, blushing 
 deeply when she remembered the object of 
 his visit ! 
 
 '' I have had so many seasons, you kuow, 
 and after all they become stale in time. 
 Besides, I infinitely prefer the country 
 to town all the year round. And the life 
 you lead here has a certain charm about 
 it, something Arcadian — " 
 
 "Ah, it's the butter-making!" she 
 interrupted, with a satirical smile. 
 
 " Now I really do consider you treated 
 me very badly in that matter. You then 
 made me a distinct promise and delibe- 
 rately broke it." 
 
 I 2
 
 116 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Perhaps I may keep my promise some 
 day." 
 
 *' Do," he exclaimed. 
 
 " I think I will be photographed in my 
 dairymaid's dress, and I will gi^e you a 
 photo if you care to have one," siie said 
 rather coquettishly. '' It will remind you 
 of your Arcadian experiences." 
 
 " I shall keep you to your promise this 
 time, Miss Finch," he said, looking on the 
 ground, where he was working impossible 
 problems with the point of his stick. 
 
 " Come to-morrow morning then, and 
 you shall see your idyllic maid," — rising 
 and laughing lightly. 
 
 *' You are in earnest? " 
 
 " Quite ; be here at nine o'clock ; no, 
 come earlier still, to breakfast, Captain 
 Maynard, if you will, and bring Harry too ; 
 my father and mother will be charmed to 
 seo Tou."
 
 RICHER THAX WEALTH. 117 
 
 '' I am sure I shall be charmed to come. 
 But YOU are not going in ? AYhj, we have 
 had no tennis yet ! " 
 
 " You must know I am very busy." 
 
 *' Are you ? I often wonder what on 
 earth you find to do ; you are always 
 busy." 
 
 " Well, as you are so very curious I will 
 confide to you the nature of my present 
 business; it's a matter of millinery." 
 
 "Millinery?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am at present making a dress." 
 
 " Do you really make your own 
 dresses ?" 
 
 " Yes, every one." 
 
 " They are so awfully pretty, you know. 
 I thought they must be that Frenchman's 
 —Worth's." 
 
 " Oh, how lovely is your ignorance, 
 Captain Maynard ! Imagine a farmer's 
 daughter wearing gowns of Worth's manu-
 
 118 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 facture ;" and slie laughed gaily enough. 
 " I will give you one set of tennis if the 
 weather will permit. I am afraid the rain 
 will stop us though. The last fortnight 
 has been almost wintry ; I have been quite 
 glad to sit by the hall-fire."
 
 mCHEK THAN WEALTH. 119 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " See how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! 
 0, that I were a glove upon that hand, 
 That I might touch that clieek ! " 
 
 Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 2. 
 
 " Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak." 
 Henry VI., Act v. Sc. 3. 
 
 Dorcas, following the example of her family, 
 was always up early in these June morn- 
 ings, which sometimes realized the poets' 
 description of their beauty. This day, 
 when Maynard was to breakfast there, she 
 was up earlier than usual. She told her 
 people of the guests she had invited ; and 
 good Mrs. Finch, who was never so happy 
 as when she was providing for some enter-
 
 120 HIGHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 tainment, busied herself in making ready 
 to receive her visitors. She went to her 
 ample linen wardrobe, and selected some 
 fine delicate old damask for the table, 
 smoothing the various table-cloths and 
 napkins with a reverent hand ; for these 
 things were never disturbed except on 
 great occasions of joy or sorrow, and bemg 
 so closely connected with the greater events 
 of life, they possessed to the simple woman, 
 a wonderful dignity. Then another large 
 black oak chest was unlocked, and she 
 carefully reached down sundry odd-looking 
 things in chamois -leather coverings, which 
 presently showed themselves to be a beauti- 
 ful tea and coffee set of antique silver, 
 which, like the historic linen, only saw the 
 light on very rare occasions. Then when 
 these glittering things, and some old salt- 
 cellars, that an antiquary would have 
 raved over, were on the black oak side-
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 121 
 
 board in readiness for the table, Mrs. Finch 
 proceeded to the great parlour, where in one 
 corner stood a beautifully finished buffet 
 fuJl of china, which would have rejoiced 
 a collector's heart. From this quaint 
 buffet, Mrs. Finch selected some old crown 
 Derby, to further grace her breakfast-table 
 in Captain Maynard's honour. Mr. Harry 
 so often breakfasted, dined, and supped 
 there, that he was as familiar as one of 
 the family. Jim had contributed his 
 quota to the entertainment by setting 
 night-lines and catching some fine trout ; 
 these, delicately broiled, lamb cutlets, and 
 bacon and eggs formed the breakfast. 
 
 Dorcas sang softly when she was arrang- 
 ing her delicious, fragrant flowers for the 
 table and elsewhere, and when that table 
 was laid out, and finished by her touches, 
 she went back to the door, and exclaimed 
 with genuine satisfaction, —
 
 122 EICHER THAN" W.SALTn. 
 
 " Well, it really is very pretty ! " 
 Then she went upstairs to wash her 
 hands, and add a dark crimson rose to her 
 toilette. She was quite aware that she 
 herself looked very nice in that delicate 
 fresh chintz. Presently she went down into 
 the sunshine, and walked up and down 
 slowly with her hands clasped behind her. 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Finch had just peeped 
 into the kitchen to see that Heph- 
 zibah quite understood. Now Heph- 
 zibah rather resented these peeps on the 
 occasions when ''company" came, — -very 
 rightly considering herself, a good plain 
 cook. Then the mistress joined her 
 husband in the hall, where the yeoman 
 stood spotless in his Sunday's clothes. 
 Jim, whistling softly, was lounging by the 
 old bureau, and tying a trout-fly to while 
 away the time. Jim knew better than to 
 put on his best clothes, and rather laughed
 
 EICHEU THAN WEALTH. 123 
 
 at liis father having changed his dress ; 
 but the yeoman's notions of poUteness 
 were different from his son's. 
 
 '' How prettj Dorcas do make every- 
 thing look to be sure," said her father 
 admiringly. *' Now that table looks like 
 a picture. The duke couldn't have it 
 prettier set out. That captain is an un- 
 common nice man. Miss Edith 'nil have 
 a good husband, there's no doubt o' that. 
 But I'll go and see if the gentlemen are 
 coming. Why, and you look a picture too, 
 Dorcas," he said, meeting her just outside 
 the porch. 
 
 ''Del?" smiling, and holding up her 
 face for a kiss. 
 
 " Yes, my pretty maid, I like those soft 
 colours, they puts me in mind o' the dresses 
 my mother used to wear." 
 
 Just then the click of the outer gate 
 announced their guests.
 
 124 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " I am afraid we are ten minutes after 
 time," said Maynard, raising liis hat, '' but 
 I could not get this lazy fellow out of 
 bed ; I was obliged to try some cold water 
 at last." 
 
 Then they were soon in the hall, and 
 shaking hands with Mrs. Finch. 
 
 '^ It is very rude to make remarks, 
 but what a perfect picture this old hall 
 presents, with that exquisitely arranged 
 table," said Maynard enthusiastically. 
 
 " 'Tis my daughter's work, sir," said the 
 pleased father, smiling at Dorcas, who 
 smiled back again. 
 
 " You are the true artist whose touch 
 makes everything beautiful. Miss Finch," 
 — bowing low and smiling. 
 
 *' What ! compliments before breakfast, 
 Captain Maynard ? " elevating her brows 
 a little, while an amused satirical smile 
 hovered about her mouth.
 
 rJCHER THAN \YEALTH. 125 
 
 Presently tliev were all seated, and the 
 business of breakfast began. The yeoman 
 did no!: speak the Queen's EngUsh, and 
 sometimes his l^nife was used in a fashion 
 that a knife should not be used in ; but 
 barrinof these small defects he was a e'entle- 
 man, if courteous deference, urbanity, high- 
 mindedness, and noble honesty could make 
 him one. Xothinor about him was vulvar. 
 
 Maynard. now and then glanced at his 
 fine old host, and chatted lightly on all 
 those topics which he thought might be 
 interesting to him. From the father it 
 was only natural he should occasionally 
 look at the daughter, who sat in her usual 
 place at the yeoman's right hand. Mrs. 
 Finch was of a narrower type in her 
 mental capacities and less refined than 
 her husband ; but she had the good taste 
 to make herself obtrusive only in pressing 
 her hospitality on her guests. To May-
 
 126 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 narcl it was not diflficult to understand 
 that sucli a child might come from such 
 parents. Just then this exquisite realiza- 
 tion of young womanhood made the scene 
 before him beautiful even to pain ! How 
 was he going to requite his kind, genial 
 host's hospitality, unless he left that 
 county at once ? The question made the 
 man who had hitherto *' kept the bird in 
 his bosom " a little grave and pale, and 
 perhaps Dorcas was surprised to meet his 
 eyes with an expression of sorrowful regret 
 very visible in them. But transient are such 
 emotions to a man who has had many a 
 desperate flirtation on hand. So when a 
 most pleasant hour had passed, he was 
 ready enough to break down that fine 
 barrier of honour, which should have been 
 Dorcas's protection. '" Such is the un- 
 fathomable depravity of the heart ! " as 
 observes an old writer.
 
 KICHKR THAN AYEALTH. 127 
 
 " And when is thelono^-wislied-for scene 
 to take place?" lie asked Dorcas with a 
 smile, as they all rose from the table. 
 
 " Hephzibah will let you know the pro- 
 per time to come in. Meanwhile there is 
 the o^arden to — smoke in." 
 
 " You think smoking after breakfast is 
 a reprehensible habit ? " 
 
 " I have not thought about it. Any- 
 how, the tobacco is good for the blight ! " 
 
 Half an hour afterwards he was sum- 
 moned to the dairy. There, before the 
 stand of cold water, in which, were nume- 
 rous yellow masses of butter, stood Dor- 
 cas, slightly transformed. She wore a 
 pretty mob-cap, the sleeves of her print 
 dress were rolled up far above the elbow, 
 disclosing arms of too delicate a colour 
 and symmetry to look quite in keeping 
 with her occupation. A large apron with 
 a bib, and a pair of high pattens, into
 
 128 RICHEll THAN WEALTH. 
 
 wliicli lier pretty feet with their well-fitting 
 shoes were thrust, completed her '' get-up." 
 Captain Maynard in complete silence 
 contemplated the lovely dairymaid, who, 
 apparently from intuitive knowledge, beat 
 out her butter and made it into pats. 
 She, engaged in that innocent and health- 
 ful pursuit, little imagined what a storm 
 of passion, regret, and resolve w^as making 
 her companion's heart throb. He loved 
 her, and she should be his. Dorcas, 
 looking up, met eyes only too expres- 
 sive of the wild passionate tumult within. 
 For a few moments his glance seemed 
 to hold hers, then she blushed with 
 a sudden shame ; a sudden new insight 
 revealing what had been hidden. Just 
 then she felt ashamed of her beauty; 
 she wished her arms even were covered 
 from his sight. Trembling and deadly 
 pale, from the bitter knowledge which had
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 129 
 
 sprung to life, she bent over her pats of 
 butter. The power of speech seemed gone 
 from her. She had meant to rally him; 
 Alas ! she could never rally him again. 
 And he yearned to take her to his heart, 
 — to pour forth his soul in passionate 
 avowals of love and tenderness, — but he 
 dared not. He saw she was offended and 
 distressed, and her distress touched the 
 better part of him with chivalrous pity. 
 Some men would have followed up their 
 advantage; but he knew that already she felt 
 insulted and abashed, and would proudly 
 resent any further expression of his un- 
 authorized attachment. With great effort 
 he strove to command himself, and to fall 
 back into that pleasant badinage of the past 
 weeks, though feeling and knowing all the 
 time that that happy past could never recur. 
 "It is so good of you to have gratified 
 my wish ; I assure you the picture more 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 .130 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 titan realizes my expectations. And now, 
 cannot Hephzibali finish this business for 
 you ? I am sure you will agree with me 
 that the tennis-lawn is after all more 
 entertaining." 
 
 '^ Thank you ; I prefer to finish what I 
 have begun. But don't let me keep you 
 here ; you — you certainly look rather out 
 of place in a dairy, Captain Maynard," she 
 said, between anger, irony, and embarrass- 
 ment, and going on mechanically but 
 bravely with her work. 
 
 Never before had her eyes drooped with 
 shame before his, but now they were 
 hidden by the dark, curled silken lashes. 
 
 '' Do you command me to leave you ? " 
 he asked half-seriously. 
 
 " No ; pray stay if you wish ; but I shall 
 be some time, and you have confessed, 
 after all my trouble, that I have not enter- 
 tained you."
 
 RICHER THAN AVEALTH. 131 
 
 In her disturbed, confused state, slie 
 was hardly aware of what she was saying ; 
 she only wished he would go. 
 
 '' I might tell you a very different story 
 if I dared," he said in a low tone, and 
 laying his hand caressingly on her arm. 
 
 " Do not dare, Captain Maynard — and 
 now I do ask you to leave me," looking up 
 with such proud, indignant eyes that he 
 stood abashed before her. 
 
 " Forgive me ! I will never offend you 
 again ; you — you forget how beautiful you 
 are." 
 
 " Whether I am beautiful or not, can be 
 of no consequence to you. Captain May- 
 nard. Really, if you wish me to forgive 
 your insult of just now, you must leave 
 me at once," she sard haughtily. 
 
 And then he diQ jBave her. 
 
 When she knew he was really gone, the 
 farce of butter-making ended; she only
 
 132 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 desired to get away and liide herself. 
 Just then her heart was throbbing so 
 wildly from the shock of his words, that 
 she knew she could not pass through 
 the kitchen without betraying to her 
 mother and the servants her strange 
 agitation. 
 
 Presently Hephzibah came in with some 
 milk-pans. 
 
 "Oh, Hephzibah — can you finish this ? " 
 
 '' Aye, Miss Dorcas, I thought as how 
 you'd soon get tired o' standing there in 
 them high pattens. Do 'ee go out o' this 
 damp place. Why, you do look quite 
 fainty, Miss." 
 
 '' No, no, Hephzibah, I am quite well ; 
 it's — it's only the pattens." 
 
 '* You'll give me one o' your likenesses 
 when you have it took, Miss Dorcas ; you 
 do look so uncommon pretty in that there 
 gown and cap, and bare arms.'*
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. ]33 
 
 Just then Heplizibah's praise was the 
 severest, bitterest censure. 
 
 She waited a moment, and then quietly 
 passed through the kitchen, where Heph- 
 zibah purposely diverted the attention of 
 the other servant from her pale young 
 mistress. Hephzibah was not blind, and 
 that morning was very grave and silent 
 over her work, and most unnecessarily 
 severe to Molly. 
 
 Mrs. Finch was fortunately in her 
 pantry, where she was engaged in wash- 
 ing her precious china before she restored 
 it to the buffet, and Dorcas passed by un- 
 noticed. When she was in the hall, and 
 saw the flowers she had arranged that 
 morning with such a careless, happy heart, 
 she shivered, and passed on upstairs to her 
 room. Oh, the relief to be at last alone ! 
 Through the Venetian blind, which was 
 down, she saw the tennis-players, whose
 
 134 BICflER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 loud voices and merriment jarred upon 
 her. Maynard was not there, at any rate 
 he was not visible ; but then, had she not 
 told him to go? She went into the safer 
 seclusion of her bedroom, and locking both 
 doors knelt down by her bed, not to pray 
 • — just then she could not pray ; the sense 
 of shame and abasement was too great. 
 The bitter, bitter remembrance of all that 
 his glance had conveyed was strong upon 
 her, and with it came the revelation that it 
 was not only he who loved. Then came the 
 overwhelming truth, that she had loved 
 him almost from the first, and that as long 
 as her heart beat it would be the same. 
 And she — she had tempted this engaged 
 man by her odious coquetry to forget what 
 was due to her and to himself! As she 
 knelt trembling, her whole body blushed 
 for her indiscretion. Then came the 
 dreadful thought that in her confusion
 
 EICHEK THAN WEALTH. ]35 
 
 she might have betrayed herself to him. 
 That he, well-versed in woman's ways, 
 might have learned her miserable secret. 
 Gh, how her pride, her womanhood, re- 
 volted against the idea ! never would she 
 meet him again alone — " never, never,'* 
 she sobbed at last. 
 
 And with this new knowledge between 
 them, they could never be the same again. 
 The pleasant stage of innocent friendship 
 was for ever left behind, now that he had 
 taught her to blush for her beauty by his 
 expression of passionate admiration ! One 
 proof of her love was that she felt no 
 anger against him. It was herself, — her 
 blindness, her unmaidenly vanity which 
 had made her wish for his approval, — that 
 filled her heart with loathing and disgust. 
 She fervently hoped he would go, and that 
 she might never see him again. Then 
 came another, keener pain — how had she
 
 136 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 requited Edith for her kindness and warm 
 friendship ? 
 
 At one o'clock she was obhged to join 
 the family dinner, pleading a headache as 
 the cause of her unwonted pallor. When 
 her father was again and again speaking 
 in the highest terms of praise of Maynard^ 
 she wondered what he would say if he 
 knew the truth. There was indeed a 
 perfect chorus of encomiums on that 
 tempted man. The kind yeoman drew 
 such a happy picture of Edith's future life 
 and magnificence, that Dorcas thought she 
 must leave the room, the torture of listen- 
 ing was so great; for she feared poor 
 Edith's future would be very different . 
 
 Maynard, as he took an unfrequented 
 path by the river to the Hall, began to 
 realize that he was in a very painful and 
 awkward position. At one moment he 
 was ready to curse the passionate impulse
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 137 
 
 whicli had made further harmless friend- 
 ship with Dorcas impossible. At another 
 he dwelt with rapture on the remembrance 
 of her distress and embarrassment, and 
 the first awakening within her of a 
 woman's dehcate passion. Betrayed her- 
 self! yes, alas! ... It was only right he 
 should suffer, and for an hour or two his 
 suffering was intense. He could never 
 marry Edith ; when he thought of his 
 conduct to her, his cheek burned with 
 shame, but he tried to excuse his fault 
 on the score of her coldness, and want of 
 love for him; yet to the proud man it 
 was intolerable that he should have to 
 excuse himself. Though a marriage with 
 Dorcas was beset with almost insuper- 
 able obstacles, still it w^as only she 
 who could ever be his wife. Not for 
 one moment had he entertained a base 
 thought respecting her ; sLe was far too
 
 138 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 precious, too guarded hy lier innocence 
 and purity, for even a tliouglit of dese- 
 cration to approacli her. He found it 
 impossible to return to the Hall while he 
 was in such a disturbed, restless condi- 
 tion ; so he strode away towards the hills, 
 walking mile after mile, heedless of the 
 storms of rain which came and passed, 
 leaving brilliant sunshine after. 
 
 Harry, who returned to luncheon, ex- 
 plained that Maynard had left the farm at 
 about eleven, perhaps earlier. Edith waited 
 half an hour, and then she felt that some- 
 thing must have occurred to keep him 
 absent in this extraordinary fashion. It 
 was not very difficult to imagine what that 
 " something " was ! and when he returned, 
 worn and haggard, a little before seven 
 o'clock, she knew she had truly divined the 
 cause of his absence. She felt she was 
 being very badly treated. He might possess
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 139 
 
 many excuses for his conduct ; but since lie 
 had voluntarily renewed their engagement, 
 his present behaviour was, to say the least, 
 unmanly and insulting to her. There 
 should be some explanation and end to 
 this pretence of an engagement. She was 
 wounded and angry too. And Maynard 
 found a cold and haughty hostess that 
 night, who would not be touched by 
 the sweetness, the almost humility of his 
 manner. She was satirical, and then 
 sarcastic, and made him wince with pain 
 with her clever speeches. Nothing he could 
 do or say was right. At length he was 
 silent, surprised and hurt beyond measure. 
 
 After tea he said, — they were alone in 
 the drawing-room, — 
 
 "You have only too good cause to be 
 angry with me, Edith ; nevertheless your 
 anger is hard to bear. Will you excuse 
 me ? I think I will go out and smoke.'*
 
 140 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Her guest ! — had she driven her guest 
 from her presence with bitter words ? 
 failed so grievously in courtesy and hospi- 
 tality ! The proud, wounded woman went 
 quickly to her room, and there gave way 
 to a passion of grief and remorse. 
 
 And Maynard, not much happier, went to 
 bed, if not to rest. However his better 
 angel might whisper against his pursuit 
 of Dorcas, he would not listen. The grati- 
 fication of being in her society had always 
 been extreme, for from the first he had 
 been captivated by something he had never 
 been conscious of in any other woman. 
 But since yesterday morning his captiva- 
 tion had doubled; and shutting his eyes 
 to the cruelty, as well as danger of further 
 visits, he determined to follow up his 
 advantage and win a confession of her 
 love from the proud, pure girl. 
 
 Dorcas had a presentiment he would
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 141 
 
 come down that morning. To shun him 
 altogether would be unwise, she thought, 
 and look as if she feared him ; and though 
 she most assuredly did fear him, she must 
 not show any trepidation. 
 
 Thinking of this, she gathered a few 
 flowers, arranged them into an artistic 
 group, and then sat down to paint them in 
 the hall. That place was one of general 
 meeting for the whole family. Besides, her 
 mother and Hephzibah would possibly be 
 in and out in the course of their usual 
 daily avocations, and so would prevent 
 Captain Maynard from transgressing, even 
 if he felt inclined. If he should transgress 
 she must keep her self-command, and let 
 him know he was making a mistake, by 
 some gentle rebuke. She began sketch- 
 ing in her group of flowers, but her hand 
 was not steady enough to follow the 
 delicate lines with truth to nature. Pre-
 
 142 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 sently tlie bang of the outer gate made 
 Iter start, and sent all the blood to her 
 cheeks ; but she was so resolute that 
 before he was at the door she was calm 
 and pale enough. She rose very slightly 
 when he came in, and bowed coldly; 
 her hand was occupied with the brush. 
 
 " So it's to be war," he said, with an 
 odd thrill in his voice, as he stood flushed 
 and taken aback by a greeting he had 
 hardly expected. 
 
 "Won't you sit down. Captain May- 
 nard ? " she said calmly, still going on with 
 her drawing. 
 
 "No, thank you ; I see I am de trajQ, so 
 I will make my adieux at once." 
 
 Why did he throw so much tenderness 
 and reproach into his voice ? and why 
 would he look on her face until [she felt 
 the colour wavering there ? And he knew 
 he was beloved when he saw those traces
 
 RICHER THAJT WEALTH. 143 
 
 of past tears and anguisli visible in the 
 lovely, bent face. 
 
 '' I know only too well I have deeply 
 offended you, and — and believe me, I conld 
 not esteem you so much if — if you liad not 
 been offended ; but is a moment's forget- 
 fulness, a moment's listening to an over- 
 whelming temptation, beyond forgiveness?" 
 he said very, very low. 
 
 She kept on w4th her painting ; but oh, 
 how white she was ! Just then she thought 
 he was cruel, for she felt sure he had 
 learned that of which she had hoped he 
 would for ever remain ignorant. 
 
 "Am I to think, then, that you will 
 never forgive me ? " 
 
 '' No," she replied faintly, and again 
 feeling overpowered by the sweetness of 
 his presence. '' But surely. Captain May- 
 nard, nothing in my conduct could warrant 
 your behaviour yesterday ?"
 
 144 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " No tiling but the fascination you 
 cannot help exercising on all who meet 
 you." 
 
 This was treading on dangerous, for- 
 bidden ground, but she had no answer 
 ready just then. Why did not some one 
 come in and interrupt that painful tete-a- 
 tete ? 
 
 '* I see I am not to be wholly forgiven. 
 I suppose you wish for a — a sort of armed 
 neutrality, Miss Finch ? " 
 
 " I only wish, Captain Maynard, for that 
 courtesy and forbearance which I think 
 every woman has a right to expect from a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " I understand your rebuke. You mean 
 that I have sinned against my character of 
 gentleman. I don't deny it. Yesterday 
 nature proved stronger than convention- 
 ality. Would to heaven I could be a Bayard, 
 sans peur et sans rejproche^ but—"
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 145 
 
 Then lie suddenly turned from her to 
 the window. 
 
 Dorcas could liear her own heart beating 
 as she went on with her work, making 
 terrible mistakes therein ; but, strange to 
 say, she put that wretched, smudged water- 
 colour away very carefully. 
 
 " "Well," he said, turning round with a 
 smile on his careworn face. '' I will take 
 my unwelcome self away, Miss Finch ; I 
 am only interrupting you. If I dared, I 
 would ask you for that rose you are wear- 
 ing, just that I might feel your anger is 
 gone." 
 
 " If I were Miss Fleming you might ask 
 me for the rose ; but, without it, pray be- 
 lieve that my anger is gone, Captain May- 
 nard. Good-bye," rising and giving him 
 her hand. 
 
 " Good-bye," he returned, holding it 
 in his, w^hile w^ith his eyes, — grave, ten- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 mCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 der, and yearning for some response from 
 liers, lie took a still sweeter farewell, — until 
 she gently withdrew her hand; and blushing 
 slightly, but with a certain haughty self- 
 command, she swept him a low bow, which 
 was as dignified as it w^as graceful, and 
 then passed into the great parlour. 
 
 He perfectly understood her rebuke, as 
 he also understood that she meant the 
 farewell between them to be real, that 
 there was an end to everything between 
 them ; henceforth they were to be strangers; 
 and if he had loved her before he felt she 
 was ten times dearer now. That day he 
 knew they must meet again, as Harry had 
 a cricket-match at the Hall between his 
 eleven, consisting of all the neighbouring 
 young farmers and the eleven of an adjoin- 
 ing parish. Maynard had promised to play 
 on Harry's side, and as he returned home 
 he remembered that Dorcas had rallied him
 
 BICHER THAN WEALTH. 147 
 
 a good deal about this same matcli, saying 
 how surprised and delighted the country 
 bumpkins would be to have a gentleman 
 playing wdth them who had once been in 
 the Eton Eleven. Then he wondered how 
 she would meet him.
 
 148 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida, Act. iii. Sc. 3. 
 
 ** Alack ! when once our grace we have forgot 
 Nothing goes right ; we would and we would not.'* 
 Measure for Measure^ Act. iv. Sc. 4. 
 
 Most im willingly did Dorcas set out to- 
 wards tlie Hall to go to tlie cricket-matcb, 
 staying and lingering on tlie way thither, 
 much as Maynard had loitered a month, 
 previously. She had excused herself from 
 luncheon, and when she entered the pad- 
 dock it was about five o'clock. A good 
 many people, relatives of the players, 
 besides a scattering of ladies and gentle- 
 men, were there as spectators. Kever
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 149 
 
 before had Dorcas felt the stare of a crowd 
 to be painful, because never before had she 
 been self-conscious ; but now, as she 
 bowed and shook hands with different 
 acquaintances, she felt her colour going and 
 her heart beating^ with nervousness. 
 
 She passed into the garden, and those 
 who did not possess the right of entrance 
 made some very unkind remarks, almost 
 before she was out of hearing. Edith and 
 some friends were on the lawn in the 
 shade, for the day w^as intensely hot. 
 Dorcas quietly made her way thither, 
 certainly feeling that a sunshade was a 
 blessing in more ways than one. 
 
 Edith, full of compunction for her 
 rudeness of the previous evening, had 
 been very genial and friendly to Maynard, 
 who was only too glad to respond in kind. 
 She rose to meet her pale, beautiful 
 guest, whose smile, and sweet, insouciant
 
 150 EICHER THAN TVEAtJTH. 
 
 manner seemed to have vanislied; but 
 Dorcas was perfectly composed ; at least, 
 slie gave no sign, except her pallor, of any 
 agitation. But Editli knew the moment of 
 their meeting was one of exquisite pain to 
 her. She bravely chatted on until Dor- 
 cas, after speaking to most of the people, 
 was safely in a chair. 
 
 : Almost immediately a rich young fellow, 
 one of Harry's associates, and who ought 
 to have been a gentleman, strolled up to 
 Dorcas, and began to pay her attentions 
 which were almost insolent in their freedom. 
 This conduct, however, roused her spirit, 
 and she quietly set him down in such a com- 
 plete fashion, that he left her, boiling over 
 with rage, while there was a little titter 
 among those who had witnessed the scene. 
 Maynard went up and said a few words, 
 — mere commonplaces about the heat, — and 
 she rephed with apparent ease ; though
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 151 
 
 Editli saw there was a new coldness and 
 distance in her manner to hiin, something 
 very different from her late friendliness. 
 
 He very soon left her, as he was going 
 to bat ; and having some reputation as a 
 cricketer, there was a general move to the 
 field to watch his play. He soon justified 
 his character ; sending the ball apparently 
 wherever he liked, and running up a splen- 
 did score, amid the warm plaudits of the 
 spectators. 
 
 Edith and her party were sufficiently 
 removed from the ground to be safe from 
 the balls, unless one was deliberately sent 
 among them ; but there were some children 
 who would keep going into the forbidden 
 space, and presently one little boy went 
 right into the way of the batting. Dorcas 
 saw the child's danger, and ran to save 
 him. Just as she reached him a shout 
 frightened her — a sharp blow on her left
 
 152 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 arm nearly sent lier down. The mingled 
 pain and surprise made lier falter, but the 
 child was safe ! Maynard in perfect inno- 
 cence, never imagining any one was in the 
 way, had given a tremendous side-cut to 
 the ball, which unfortunately caught poor 
 Dorcas midway between the elbow and the 
 shoulder. Every one except himself had 
 seen the accident. Edith hurried to the 
 trembling girl, who was walking towards 
 her, flushed with the pain of the blow, and 
 desiring to get away from the crowd which 
 had collected around her. Edith whis- 
 pered, — 
 
 *' Can you manage to get to the house, 
 dear?" 
 
 She nodded ''Yes." 
 
 She could not speak, and suddenly 
 growing white, fell from Edith's arm 
 to the ground. Just then Maynard came 
 up.
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 153 
 
 '' My God ! have I killed her ? Where 
 did the ball strike ? " he exclaimed with 
 anguish. 
 
 '' The ball struck her just above the 
 elbow, Hubert," said Edith very gently, and 
 laying her hand on his arm with a warning 
 pressure. " Will you and Mr. Williams 
 carry Dorcas to the house at once ? She 
 has only fainted." 
 
 Edith's fine dignity fell like a lash on 
 the vulgar crowd of people, who were 
 waiting with hungry curiosity for a scene. 
 Maynard instantly recovered his self-com- 
 mand, and the two men tenderly lifted 
 their lovely burden and proceeded to the 
 house. 
 
 ''Where?" asked Maynard who was 
 almost as white as Dorcas. 
 
 " On one of the drawing-room sofas, I 
 think," said Edith. 
 
 They laid her there, and wheeled the
 
 154 EICHER THAN WEALTIF. 
 
 sofa to a window for the air to blow upon 
 her. Edith, rang the bell. 
 
 *' Eau de Cologne and some cold water ! 
 quickly, John ! Miss Finch has met with 
 an accident." 
 
 '' Did — did the ball strike her anywhere 
 else ? " asked Maynard looking upon her 
 with a yearning love, regret, and ten- 
 derness he did not attempt then to 
 disguise." 
 
 *' I believe not — I hope not," returned 
 Edith, struck with the new, strange beauty 
 which just then touched his face. 
 
 " Thank God ! it might have been fatal," 
 he answered with a shudder. 
 
 " I am afraid her arm is broken ; just 
 see how it is swollen." 
 
 The two men there* loved her, as 
 perhaps a woman is seldom loved; but 
 she loved only him who stood nearest to 
 her.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 155 
 
 .. ^-.It miglit have been worse," said poor 
 Keuben liiiskily. *' Miss Fleming, can 
 I help you ? If not, I am afraid wo 
 are in the way. Shall we go, Captain 
 Maynard?" 
 
 And then he put his arm through the 
 other's, and led him off. 
 
 '' Let me get you some cup or soniething. 
 The heat has knocked you up." 
 
 Edith, left alone with her, began to un- 
 fasten her dress, to give her throat and 
 chest more freedom. As she gazed on the 
 still insensible girl she felt both a strange 
 yearning and repulsion. Then she sprang 
 up, for Jane, the housemaid, was at hand, 
 with restoratives, wine, and odious burnt 
 feathers, which Edith quickly banished. 
 
 When Jane was gone, Edith kissed the 
 lovely mouth with a wonderful tenderness. 
 Her kiss seemed to have the magic power 
 of awakening, for poor Dorcas opened her
 
 156 mo HER THAN WEALTH. ' 
 
 eyes witli a moan of pain, but soon closed 
 them. However, in time the faintness 
 passed away, after Edith had insisted on 
 her patient having some wine. Then she 
 lay with her eyes resting on the other's 
 face — the grand, compassionate face. Dor- 
 cas was still as in some dream. She had not 
 quite realized, or remembered, the whole 
 situation of things. With a sudden moan 
 she averted her eyes, and they expressed 
 supreme anguish. 
 
 ''Is the pain so great?" asked Edith, 
 startled. 
 
 '' So great! — terrible ! " replied the other 
 shivering ; but the pain she alluded to was 
 in her heart, the mental agony which 
 Edith's tenderness produced. 
 
 "It would be so much better if I could 
 get the sleeve off ; but you must come into 
 my bedroom first, dear." 
 
 ''Not yet," she said faintly; and so she
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 157 
 
 lay for some time silent, and Edith began 
 to understand that look of suffering. 
 
 In the quiet room they heard the noise 
 from the fields; some one was either out or 
 had distinguished himself, for there was 
 vociferous cheering. 
 
 " Dorcas," said Edith gently, "do try to 
 come up to my room, your arm ought to 
 be bathed at once. Shall I send for Mr. 
 Holt?" 
 
 *' Oh. no, no ! my arm is only bruised. 
 It was so foolish to faint, but I really could 
 not help it. I think it was the fright." 
 
 But when she rose Edith feared she would 
 faint again ; for a minute she was obliged 
 to rest her head on Edith's shoulder, before 
 she could go on. Once in the room, she 
 dropped down into a chair. 
 
 While Edith was attending her with such 
 assiduity, Dorcas felt those '' coals of fire " 
 which are mentioned in Scripture hot upon
 
 158 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 her head. She was glad when all was 
 finished, for she hoped Edith would leave 
 her. 
 
 ''I am so sorry to have caused you all 
 this fuss and trouble," she said, looking 
 into the other's face ; " please don't stay in 
 any longer, I shall soon be well enough to 
 go home." 
 
 " I will drive you home in the evening ; 
 but don't you think it would be better for 
 you to stay here ? " 
 
 " No, no," she returned quickly ; then 
 blushing, '' I — I should prefer to go home, 
 thank you. I have already given you too 
 much trouble." 
 
 " It has been no trouble, Dorcas; I am 
 only grieved you should have sustained 
 such an injury here." 
 
 Edith had something else on her lip, 
 but just then she could not say it; she must 
 wait until the friendly darkness came. So,
 
 ElCHEli THAN WEALTH. 159 
 
 seeing that Dorcas wished to be alone, she 
 went back to her guests and played her 
 part bravely. Maynard happened to be 
 bowling, and was making extremely short 
 work of the opposite eleven ; batsman after 
 batsman walked from the wickets with 
 chagrin on their round bucolic faces. 
 
 " Xo one can't play against he," she 
 heard one of them say, with a kind of 
 sulky admiration. 
 
 She smiled — womanlike; the acknowledg- 
 ment of his power was grateful to hear. 
 Watching the way in which he sent those 
 swift balls, she knew he was playing with a 
 sort of desperation in his heart ; the physi- 
 cal exertion w^as some relief to the mental 
 strain. The proud man was at last only 
 too conscious of his fault. 
 
 Edith passed from group to group chat- 
 ting graciously ; for poor as she was, she 
 was still the great lady for miles around.
 
 160 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 And all tlie time people listened half- 
 amazed, thinking she was either blind or 
 infatuated; but no one dared to hint a 
 word of suspicion, or to give the dignified, 
 self-possessed lady a look of pity. 
 
 Then came the second innings, and all 
 called for Captain Maynard to go in first. 
 This time every one kept at a prudent 
 distance. Edith's eyes were arrested as he 
 stood by the wickets — his dark handsome 
 face flushed, his fine figure erect, his head 
 thrown back — a very noble-looking man 
 just then, with a something of defiance 
 against all the world in his attitude. Edith, 
 for all her bravery, could not forbear a 
 sigh. 
 
 Then he began to bat, playing with 
 such energy, and splendid form, that loud 
 hurrahs came from every part of the field. 
 They could not put him out ; bowler after 
 bowler tried, but he only added to^ his
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 161 
 
 score. At eight o'clock, when the wickets 
 were drawn, Maynard walked out with his 
 bat ; the contest was to be renewed on the 
 morrow, though it is only fair to add that 
 in the return-match he was to play for the 
 opposite side. 
 
 The old squire had enjoyed the play as 
 much as any one, waiting patiently for the 
 postponed dinner without a murmur. May- 
 nard walked by his chair up to the house ; 
 but now the fire of enthusiasm was dead, 
 and he hardly heard the squire's praise. 
 
 Edith had gone in some time before, and 
 was sitting with Dorcas. From the open 
 window they could both hear and see some- 
 thing of the game. There was that be- 
 tween them which prevented open speech ; 
 and Edith was glad when she saw the 
 people dispersing, and her father, brother, 
 and Maynard coming in. They heard the 
 latter go up to his room to dress, and old 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Jolin carrying up cans of liot water for his 
 bath. 
 
 " I want you to come down into the 
 drawing-room, Dorcas; this lace mantle 
 will completely hide your sleeve. 
 
 " Please let me stay here until I go." 
 
 '' As you wish, but you must have some 
 dinner." 
 
 " Nothing, thank you." 
 
 '' Then I will take you home earlier than 
 I intended." 
 
 " Indeed, I can walk very well." 
 
 ''That is not to be thought of; I told 
 your brother I should drive you." 
 
 Then she went down into the drawing- 
 room alone ; there she stood looking out of 
 a window with gloomy eyes. Here she 
 was, making a sacrifice, putting herself into 
 subjection for the sake of one who seemed 
 to hold proudly back. She was but a 
 mortal, trying to play an immortal part.
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 163 
 
 Wounded and baffled in all ways, her pride 
 arose ; and yet with the pride there were 
 burning tears for a moment in her eyes, that 
 life should be so hard — so hard ! She heard 
 Maynard come in, her ear could at once 
 distinguish his step ; heard him coming 
 nearer and nearer until he was by her side. 
 But the tears were gone now,- no sign of 
 weakness should he ever see in her ! She 
 turned and faced a man with profound 
 trouble on his brow, and more — remorse. 
 At that moment how much she pitied him ! 
 How tempted she was to throw her arms 
 round his neck, and tell him he w^as forgiven 
 — forgiven ; — that he was free so far as she 
 was concerned. But he only saw a pale, 
 proud woman whose kindness and nobihty 
 he had outraged. The only time she had 
 ever called him by his name had been that 
 afternoon, when she had striven to save 
 him from his indiscretion ! That light 
 M 2
 
 164 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 pressure on his arm, and his name, — 
 " Hubert." Love her lie did, with a 
 reverence that she was worthy of, but 
 Dorcas possessed the love he would wish 
 to give to his ivife. 
 
 " It is a terrible bruise, but I think there 
 is no permanent injury," said Edith, as 
 calmly as if she were speaking of the most 
 ordinary matter. 
 
 " It was a most merciful escape, I sent 
 the ball with tremendous force. Why did 
 she get in the way ? " 
 
 *' Don't you know it was to save the child 
 from the ball?" 
 
 " Ko, I saw nothing of it. Is the bruise 
 very painful ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 "Is she coming down to dinner?" 
 
 " No, she prefers to keep quietly in my 
 room until I drive her home ; so you must 
 excuse me early from the table."
 
 ElOHEE THAN WEALTH. 165 
 
 Then Harry came, and tliey all went 
 in to dinner. Very soon, however, Walter 
 brought the pony-chaise to the door, 
 and Edith rose to prepare herself and 
 Dorcas for the drive to the farm. A soft 
 white shawl of Edith's was very tenderly 
 put round the pale, shaken Dorcas. How 
 she hoped she might leave without any 
 further meeting with Maynard ! But she 
 felt sure he would come out into the hall. 
 She looked strangely, pathetically lovely 
 to Edith as she stood half- trembling, a tall 
 white graceful figure, waiting for the sup- 
 port of Edith's arm downstairs. Before 
 they reached the hall, Maynard was there, 
 watching their descent with emotions which 
 it would be difficult to describe. The 
 squire even paid her the compliment of 
 coming to the hall- do or. 
 
 " Very sorry indeed, my dear, you have 
 had such a disagreeable accident. Lucky
 
 166 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 it's no worse though. Majnard would 
 have rather shot himself than have done 
 it, I know. Another time keep out of the 
 way. You are too pretty to be knocked 
 about by cricket-balls ! Good-night, good- 
 night," shuffling back to the dining-room. 
 
 When she was in the carriage, and Edith 
 was taking the reins, Maynard held out 
 his hand for hers — the slender hand which 
 trembled in his. 
 
 " I am very sorry ; but I don't think I 
 would rather have shot myself," he said 
 wdth a little laugh ; but there was a tender- 
 ness in his voice and eyes that rather 
 behed his words. 
 
 Dorcas only said, — 
 
 " Good-night, Captain Maynard," and 
 then the pony was touched with the whip 
 and they drove on in the twilight. 
 
 "Walter ran forward to open the drive- 
 gate, and presently they were in the quiet
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 167 
 
 road, which was rather dark from the 
 thickly overarching trees. 
 
 This pretty road was very undulating — 
 up and down hills which were of no great 
 elevation, but which were sufficiently steep 
 to give the lazy pony an excuse for walk- 
 ing. The evening air was delicious after the 
 heat of the day, and all around them the 
 birds were making sweet melody. It was 
 about two miles to the farm, but Edith was 
 in no hurry, and the pony was allowed to 
 take his way very -leisurely. 
 
 It was not singular that but few sen- 
 tences passed between them. Dorcas was 
 too utterly wretched to talk commonplaces, 
 and Edith was lost in deep thought con- 
 cerning the future — the dreary, hopeless 
 future, for herself and hers. Her head 
 throbbed, and she was glad the darkness 
 concealed the trouble in her eyes. A 
 strange conflict was disturbing her heart.
 
 168 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 At one moment she felt ready to put her 
 arms around her companion and whisper 
 forgiveness — at another, anger and 
 wounded pride bade her shrink back with 
 disdain. But eventually the more generous 
 impulse prevailed, and she thought she 
 must speak a few words of counsel and 
 warning to Dorcas, whose silence grew 
 oppressive. Then the tormenting thought 
 arose — what had happened between them ?. 
 Had Dorcas tempted him ? Then in 
 the dusk she strove with her imperious 
 eyes to see the other's face, and in it she 
 read clearly enough an immensity of 
 pain. 
 
 " Miss Fleming — Edith ! " said Dorcas 
 passionately, when she involuntarily met 
 that proud, searching glance. " It — it has 
 been all my fault, I — I was blind until 
 yesterday. Forgive his infatuation. I 
 will never see him again. Oh, that I had
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 169 
 
 never seen him at all ! that I should 
 have—" 
 
 Here a low sob stopped her. 
 
 " Pray command yourself. Is it possible 
 you were blind until — yesterday ? ' ' And 
 Edith's low, rich voice betrayedmore than 
 a suspicion of doubt. 
 
 ''Ah! you doubt me, and that is the 
 worst of all. Wrong I have been, indeed 
 almost wicked in my folly, but not so wrong 
 as to wilfully attract Captain Maynard. 
 Edith, Edith, do believe me." 
 
 " Dorcas, I wish to believe you ; I could 
 not respect you, I could not forgive you, if 
 I thought you a coquette w^ho had tried 
 the power of her fascination on one who 
 was bound to another woman. No, I will 
 not, cannot, think that of you ; for that is 
 so contemptible, so mean a thing, that yoa 
 could not be guilty of it." 
 
 " No, no, I am not guilty of that ;
 
 170 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 but oil tliat I could tell you I was alto- 
 gether innocent ! A thousand things seem 
 now to rise in reproach against me. I 
 thought until yesterday it was only friend- 
 ship." 
 
 Those words echoed ao^ain and ao^ain in 
 Edith's ear. Alas! what a confession of 
 hopeless attachment they conyeyed. 
 
 '^ But I had no right even to his friend- 
 ship. I — I am in such a false position— 
 you understand ; but I have learned a bitter 
 lesson now. Edith, dear Edith, don't 
 utterly condemn and despise me. That 
 I have wronged you is my bitterest 
 thought." 
 
 " I do not despise you ; instead, I jDity 
 you; but, Dorcas, for your sake there must 
 be less intimacy between you." 
 
 " Captain Maynard perfectly under- 
 stands that I can be nothing to him," she 
 replied almost haughtily.
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 171 
 
 Tliey were just approacliiiig the farm. 
 
 " Try to forgive me," said the beautiful 
 culprit beseechingly. 
 
 " I will try," returned the other, unable 
 to resist the passionate appeal. " Good- 
 night ! " 
 
 Waiting a minute or two until Dorcas 
 gained the porch, she turned the pony 
 round and drove home. She had not 
 gone very far before she saw some one 
 advancing in the dusk- — a little red spark 
 showing now and then. 
 
 '' I came to meet you, Edith ; I thought 
 it was late for you to return alone," said 
 Maynard, throwing his cigar away before 
 he took his seat by her side. 
 
 For the next few days Dorcas was only 
 too glad that her bruised arm gave her a 
 sufficient plea for the role of an invalid. 
 In the seclusion of her bed-room and her 
 sitting-room, she was safe from all un-
 
 172 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 welcome intrusion ; while to receive the 
 loving offices of nursing from her mother's 
 hands was very grateful. But her languor 
 was real ; she had received a double shock, 
 mental as well as physical, and it had told 
 upon an organization naturally delicate 
 and highly strung. Therefore she was 
 glad to rest — glad to be able to think of 
 the past, painful as it was, and to make 
 plans for the future. That future of hers 
 was a thing apart from Captain Maynard's 
 life. Again and again she would say to 
 herself, they must meet no more ; he 
 would forget her — be ashamed of his in- 
 fatuation and return to Edith, and all 
 would be well; and she — and she — would 
 be content. Then the beautiful face was 
 hidden in the pillow. Daily did she hear 
 Maynard's sweet deep voice making the 
 usual inquiry ; and she could note the dis- 
 appointment evident in his tone when
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 173 
 
 lie replied to Hephzibali's intelligence, 
 that '*Miss Dorcas was better, but en- 
 gaged." 
 
 He knew very well which was her pretty 
 sitting-room. How tantalizing to see the 
 window wide open — to know she could hear 
 every word he said, and yet be denied day 
 after day ! That eventful cricket-match had 
 taken place on Thursday, the 21st of June, 
 and since that time Maynard had been in 
 a state bordering on distraction. 
 
 In the afternoon of the Tuesday follow- 
 ing he w^as again at the farm making his 
 usual inquiry, but this day he was deter- 
 mined to see her if possible. Hephzibah 
 rather quailed under his stern glance when 
 she gave him the accustomed answer. 
 
 '' I suppose Miss Finch is in the house." 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir. She haven't been out 
 since her accident." 
 
 " She is not ill, is she ? "
 
 174 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 "No, sir; but she baint exactly well 
 neither." 
 
 " Will jou be good enougli to give lier 
 this message ? Say I am going away in a 
 few days, and that I should like to see her, 
 to say good-bye before I go." 
 
 "Do 'ee step in the hall, sir, while I 
 go up." 
 
 Maynard waited in the old, cool hall, 
 and, looking on the pleasant garden, won- 
 dered if she would come. How he hun- 
 gered to see her ! to touch again the 
 slender, delicate hand ; to meet again that 
 grave, thoughtful glance from her eyes, 
 which filled him with rapture and grief at 
 once. 
 
 A sound, a soft movement, and she was 
 there. But it was not the Dorcas he 
 wished to meet ; a pale, proud girl 
 confronted him, with no trace of embar- 
 rassment, but with much haughty surprise
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 175 
 
 in her bearing. The secret of their 
 forbidden love lay between them; each 
 knew it, each felt it with every heart- 
 throb; but she would give no sign of 
 weakness, no sign of that bitter know- 
 ledge. 
 
 *' Hephzibah told me you wished to see 
 me, Captain Maynard, to say good-bye." 
 
 " I have wished to see you for the last 
 week, but — " 
 
 " I have been engaged." 
 
 " In other words you have declined 
 seeing me ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It is a heavy punishment for a most 
 unfortunate accident. You — you ought 
 to have known how unhappy I have been 
 about it." 
 
 '' I am sure you regret having caused me 
 any pain. My arm is quite well now. 
 Pray don't think me so ungenerous as to
 
 176 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 blame you for a mere accident. When do 
 you leave the hall ? " 
 
 '' I don't know. Next week, I suppose." 
 
 ^' Oh," — coldly ; " I imagined you were 
 leaving to-morrow." 
 
 ''May I ask why?" 
 
 " If people call to say good-bye, they 
 are generally on the point of going some- 
 where." 
 
 " You think I was not justified in sending 
 you that message ? " 
 
 "Hardly, Captain Maynard." 
 
 '' I have much to arrange before I leave 
 this neighbourhood. Cold, and offended 
 as you are, I must still beg that you will, 
 at your earliest leisure, give me an inter- 
 view." 
 
 '' I cannot possibly meet you again; you 
 have no right to request an interview ! " 
 
 '' I swear I have the best right ! You 
 know — "
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 177 
 
 A man's form passed by the open 
 window, and then a low exclamation burst 
 from Maynard, who drew back from his 
 companion, still standing there with the 
 same cold, haughty expression. 
 
 Reuben, after knocking at the outer 
 door, came into the hall. There was 
 sufficient awkwardness about the two 
 people before him, to make him infer that 
 he had interrupted a scene, and to render 
 him rather uncomfortable. 
 
 " I am glad to see you down at last, 
 Dorcas," said he, with a smile. " I have 
 been over every day. Captain Maynard, but 
 Miss Finch has always been invisible.'* 
 
 " Then we have fared alike. It is a 
 great relief to me to know Miss Finch has 
 recovered from my unfortunate blow." 
 
 " Yes ; I am sure we are all very glad. 
 Dorcas, where' s your father? I want 
 him to sec my new mare." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " He will be in at once, Reuben," she 
 said hurriedly. 
 
 But Reuben heard a tremendous barking 
 in the stable, and then the plunging of a 
 horse ; and ran out alarmed for the safety 
 of his precious mare. 
 
 Again they were alone. She was very 
 pale, but she still preserved the same proud 
 bearing. To stand there, feeling his eyes 
 were on her face, was intolerable. She 
 made as though she would pass by him into 
 the garden. 
 
 " One moment," he said ; and his voice 
 was so sad that she stayed. 
 
 " How changed you are since I first saw 
 you here ! " he said involuntarily. 
 
 " One cannot be always bobbing cher- 
 ries. Captain Maynard," — with a faint 
 return of her old manner. 
 
 " No ; but I would have had you keep 
 the same bright, happy spirit."
 
 ETCHER THA.N WEALTH. 179 
 
 '' You infer I am unliappj, because — be- 
 cause I happen to be rather done up witb 
 the heat." 
 
 " I wish I were sure that I am not the 
 caase of — " 
 
 '' Of what. Captain Maynarcl ? " looking 
 proudly into his face as if challenging him 
 to continue his dangerous speech. 
 
 The contest was unequal. Her eyes 
 fell ; a delicate colour overspread her face, 
 but with her head erect she slowly passed 
 by him into the garden. He followed her, 
 feeling rebuked, but with his heart on his 
 lips, eager to burst forth into passionate 
 assurance of love. But now Dorcas was 
 safe. There, within view, was her father, 
 who was scrutinizing Reuben's new pur- 
 chase in a very knowing way. 
 
 *' Good day, captain ; come and have a 
 look at Reuben's mare." 
 
 Dorcas went with him to the gate, re- 
 N 2
 
 180 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 maining there while he went on, and he 
 was presently examining the horse very 
 critically, falling into a discussion about a 
 bone spavin in the off fore-leg. 
 
 " Get on her, Reuben ; let's see her 
 paces," said the yeoman, standing with his 
 hands in his pockets and a straw in his 
 mouth. 
 
 " Take her into the home-meadow, lad ; 
 she looks as if she could take a fence 
 rarely." 
 
 Reuben put his hat more firmly on his 
 head, and then encouraging the skittish 
 animal, put her into a gentle canter, 
 which he soon increased to a gallop 
 as she got into her stride on the soft 
 turf. 
 
 " Well, captain, she's got some blood in 
 her ; she'd be just the thing for you across 
 country." 
 
 *' Too much money, Mr. Finch."
 
 BICHEE THA.N WEALTH. 181 
 
 " No, no, sir ; what's eighty guineas to a 
 rich man like you ? " 
 
 ^' I am ashamed to say I have too many 
 horses now eating their heads off. I ought 
 to sell instead of buy." 
 
 " Well ; what do you think of her, 
 Captain Maynard ? " asks Reuben, com- 
 ing up. 
 
 '' I think she is a wonderfully nice little 
 thing," said the other. 
 
 "Will you try her?" 
 
 " No, thank you," looking down at a 
 particularly well-fitting pair of trousers. 
 
 Must it be confessed that Dorcas was 
 hoping he would ride ? But he, lately 
 an officer in a crack cavalry regiment, 
 was quite beyond the small vanity of 
 wishing to display his good horseman- 
 ship. Again the mare was taken round — 
 Reuben immensely gratified b}^ the praise 
 accorded to her powers by so good a judge
 
 182 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 as the captain. Presently the pretty, 
 quivering creature was led away towards 
 the stables. Dorcas was following through 
 the garden when Maynard stopped her. 
 
 '' I must go," he said, taking out his 
 watch. " This is not good-bye ; I must 
 see you again." 
 
 He held out his hand for hers over the 
 rail. 'No one was near, for the spot was 
 secluded. 
 
 " As far as regards myself this is fare- 
 well. I shall not meet you again, Captain 
 Maynard." 
 
 " I think you will," he said very 
 gently. 
 
 " No," haughtily. " Why do you perse- 
 cute me so ? " 
 
 " Don't you know why ? But if it is 
 to be farewell give me your hand in 
 parting." 
 
 For a moment she hesitated, but, over-
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. ISo 
 
 come by the entreaty of liis eyes, slie 
 frankly gave it; but wlien he bent his 
 head and kissed it very tenderly, she ex- 
 claimed with proud reproach, — 
 
 " Ungenerous ! unmanly ! '* 
 
 At first he seemed inclined to resent the 
 charge, but, raising his hat, he turned away 
 and left her in silence. She felt a rapid 
 tingling glow of shame as she, half in fear, 
 looked around to see if any one was near 
 enough to have witnessed that daring 
 caress. But all was peaceful silence in the 
 beautiful summer day around her. A boy 
 in the distance was calling the cows home 
 to be milked, and that was all. Long she 
 remained there. — Why had he dared ? 
 What was she to do ? — Then she leaned 
 her head down on the rail in sheer weari- 
 ness of body and spirit, and vowed pas- 
 sionately again and again that on no pre- 
 text should he ever meet her again.
 
 184 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Reuben, hurrying over tlie lawn, beheld 
 her standing there in that state of dejec- 
 tion. Wondering what had happened be- 
 tween them, he discreetly turned back until 
 he was out of sight ; then began whistling 
 his favourite valse as he again approached 
 her, and this time she met him. 
 
 '^ Oh, Dorcas ! I have not told you my 
 news. Mother and the girls and Emma's 
 smart young man are all coming to- 
 night." 
 
 " Are they, Reuben ? That will be 
 pleasant for you." 
 
 "Yes. JS'ow I want you all to come 
 over on Thursday for a nice long day. I 
 won't take any refusal. The glass is high ; 
 there's moon enough to light you home, 
 and the hay can be left to Johnson for a 
 few hours surely. Why, it's an age since 
 you have been over. I have some improve- 
 ments to show you, and I want your advice
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 185 
 
 about an alteration in the garden that I am 
 contemplating." 
 
 '' My advice, Reuben ? " she said sadly. 
 
 " Yes, yours, Dorcas," he returned cheer- 
 fully. " I think you have the best taste 
 and eye for arrangement that I ever knew 
 in any one." 
 
 '' Pray don't flatter me so." 
 
 " Now you will come, won't you ? You 
 know they'll all be liurt if you don't. 
 Besides, a little change, even — even if 
 it is not very entertaining, will do you 
 good." 
 
 '' Don't depreciate your hospitality. You 
 always make your guests happy. I shall 
 be extremely pleased to come. Will there 
 be any one else there besides ourselves ? " 
 
 " Well, I have asked the Dunns," he 
 said hesitatingly. " You see I should have 
 given them mortal offence if I had not 
 asked them."
 
 186 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Why should you not ask them, Reuben? 
 What has any dishke of mine to them to 
 do with it ? " 
 
 " Ah, Dorcas, you know that all your 
 wishes influence me," said poor Reuben.
 
 BICHEE THAN WEALTH. 187 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 *' Thou art my friend, that knowest my tongue so 
 
 weU." 
 
 King John, Act v. Sc. 6. 
 
 " How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness 
 through another man's eyes ! " 
 
 As You Like It, Act v. Sc. 2. 
 
 Nothing could be more perfect than the 
 weather on Thursday. All tlie morning 
 before they started, Mr. Finch and his 
 son were busy in the delightful hay-fields ; 
 but as there was every appearance of a 
 continuance of sunshine the yeoman 
 thought he might leave all in the charge 
 of his trusty foreman, and enjoy the dissi- 
 pation of a day from home, and a pleasant 
 *' farming walk " over the well- cultivated
 
 188 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Grange land. Mrs. Fincli, too, loved a 
 gossip witli Mrs. Williams, wlio, living at 
 Hastings and in a very superior set — as she 
 took care to inform her old friends — rather 
 prided herself in knowing a good deal 
 about the ways and doings of the upper 
 ten thousand ; and certainly she did retail 
 some very extraordinary stories of stale 
 gossip. Mrs. Finch had long allowed 
 Dorcas to arrange her wardrobe. At first 
 she had rather grumbled, when her 
 daughter insisted on banishing the 
 favourite bright pink or peony- coloured 
 ribbon from her mother's cap ; the fine, 
 full-blown roses were also condemned 
 and softer colours substituted. 
 
 '* Law, my dear ! one might always be 
 in mourning, I think, to please you, with 
 these dull colours." 
 
 However, Mrs. Finch learned to like the 
 pretty lace caps — old lace which had been
 
 EIOHEE THAN WEALTH. 189 
 
 in the family many a year, and wliicli 
 Dorcas had arranged witli her clever 
 fingers. 
 
 " Yon look so nice, mother," said the 
 daughter, when she had finished her 
 mother's toilette. 
 
 *'Do I, my dear ? then I'm sure it's all 
 owing to you," answered she, surveying 
 her quiet black silk dress, with some soft 
 old white lace round the neck, and the 
 new cap, which she now tried on to see 
 the effect. 
 
 '* I wish, my dear, that you had a nice 
 silk. What are you going to wear ? It 
 don't matter though a bit, as to that, for 
 I really do believe you'd look well even in 
 sackcloth and ashes ! " 
 
 Poor Dorcas might have exclaimed with 
 truth that she was even then wearing 
 mentally those symbols of humiliation. 
 
 By-and-by, at half-past twelve, they
 
 190 "BICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 set off. The old farmer generally drove 
 to market, and elsewhere, in a much-worn 
 gig, drawn by an old horse that did various 
 odd jobs on the farm, and now and then 
 a day's ploughing. Besides the gig there 
 was another conveyance called in the 
 vernacular a " hooded chay," — otherwise a 
 chaise, — an antiquated concern which looked 
 a hundred years old, and was, in fact, 
 more than fifty. But there was a certain 
 dignity in this four-wheeled carriage ; it 
 was the "missus's chay," and was only 
 used on such occasions as the present, or 
 when it was wanted for weddings and 
 funerals by the family or their more inti- 
 mate friends. Neither the yeoman nor 
 his wife had a doubt of the dignity of 
 the old carriage. It was an heirloom ; 
 his mother, like his wife, had paid 
 her visits, friendly and ceremonious, with 
 its help and shelter. Jim, as might be
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 191 
 
 expected, turned up his nose at the 
 antique turn-out, and preferred to ride his 
 own vicious horse. 
 
 Mr. Finch, with some difficulty, helped his 
 wife and then Dorcas up the steep steps 
 into the ancient vehicle, which had this 
 advantage, that when you were once in, 
 you could very comfortably admire either 
 the scenery or your neighbours from 
 your elevated perch. Hephzy tucked in 
 shawls and cloaks for the return journey, 
 and then, wishing them all good speed 
 and a happy day, stood looking after 
 them admiringly, when old Smiler, en- 
 livened by an extra feed, trotted boldly off. 
 
 The distance between the back seat 
 and the box was so short that con- 
 versation could be kept up without any 
 difficulty. And all the way the yeoman 
 now criticized, now admired, his neigh- 
 bours' farming, talking to his wife, who
 
 192 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 understood what good farming was almost 
 as well as her husband. This simple, 
 happy talk between her parents touched 
 poor Dorcas keenly. She knew things in 
 a pecuniary way were not well with them. 
 She knew her father had worked hard all 
 his life ; she knew he had been self-deny- 
 ing and thrifty ; but bad seasons, bad 
 harvests, and a wilful, extravagant son, 
 had been against him. And then there 
 was that money which had been lavished 
 on her education. But these two old 
 people with their best clothes had put on 
 their best and happiest thoughts too. A 
 little sad touch now and then revealed a 
 hidden anxiety ; but their child was struck 
 again and again by their simple trust in 
 each other, and their complete reliance on 
 the will of God. She — that child — con- 
 scious of being in a life apart from theirs, 
 with a secret in her bosom which must
 
 E[CHEE THAN WEALTH. 193 
 
 affect her as long as she lived, tried hard 
 not to be borne down by its terrible 
 weiofht. Lookinof on her mother's serene 
 face, she knew she had never had a 
 trouble like unto hers. For the rest of 
 the way she was trying to solve that dif- 
 ficult question about her entering the 
 musical profession. Where could she get 
 the money to pay the premium for her 
 tuition ? 
 
 A little before half-past one they turned 
 into the pretty lane which led to the 
 Grange. A white gate stood wide open, 
 and by it was Reuben, smiling welcome as 
 he advanced bareheaded and shook hands 
 with them all. 
 
 The surroundings of the picturesque 
 Grange proclaimed its owner well-to-do in 
 the world. Things were well kept up ; no 
 slovenly disorder, but a certain trimness 
 and tasteful arrangement. 
 
 VOL I.
 
 194 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 At the porcli, waiting for Smiler, was 
 Joe, Reuben's useful man-of-all-work. 
 The host gallantly helped the ladies to 
 the ground from their elevated position, 
 but before they had alighted Mrs. Williams 
 and her daughters were in the porch to 
 bid the guests welcome too. 
 
 The former was a large, tall, rather over- 
 powering woman, with keen black eyes ; 
 the daughters short, fair, and good- 
 humoured-looking girls, with no preten- 
 sions to beauty. 
 
 In the background there stood a smart 
 shy young man, most elaborately got up ; 
 this was Mr. Adolphus Higgins — Emma's 
 beau, as she called him — who was pre- 
 sented in due form to the new-comers ; 
 after which he stood nervously blushing, 
 and staring at the lovely Dorcas. 
 
 The ladies went into the pleasant old 
 hall, which was faintly lighted by windows
 
 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 195 
 
 in which many of the parables were illus- 
 trated in stained glass. Then Mrs. 
 Williams marshalled them up the wide 
 black oak staircase into the guest-chamber 
 of the house. Here there was a faint 
 odour of pot-pourri, mingled with other 
 sweet perfumes from cut flowers, and 
 the climbing roses and jasmine which 
 showed in delicate white sprays around 
 the window. Mrs. Williams helped Mrs. 
 Finch off with her cloak, while all were 
 talking of the fineness of the weather, 
 and what a blessing it was for the 
 hay. 
 
 The sound of a fast-trotting horse, pulled 
 up somewhat abruptly by the porch with 
 due regard to effect, announced another 
 arrival — the Dunns, — father, mother, two 
 daughters, and the eldest son, — "Mr. 
 Henery," as his mother delighted to call 
 bim. It was not difficult to understand 
 2
 
 196 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 
 
 why Dorcas detested the whole family. 
 To her, one and all were insufferable from 
 their pretension and vulgarity. The tall, 
 big, red-faced man who always bore about 
 him an intolerable sense of his wealth, who 
 patronized her father, indeed patronized 
 everybody but herself. She, however, 
 could hold her own equally well with them 
 all. It was a warm summer day, and the 
 loud voices of Mrs. Dunn and her daugh- 
 ters, combined with the rustle of their rich 
 silks, were oppressive, and spoiled the 
 poetry of the pretty old grange. Dorcas 
 was of course the focus of interest, but 
 not of friendly interest. Her appearance 
 was severely criticized. ''Poor trumpery," 
 was Mrs. Dunn's opinion of our heroine's 
 very pretty pale-blue gown, which had been 
 made wirh her own hands. It was, indeed, 
 the very one which she had told Maynard 
 she was employed in making, and it looked
 
 EICHEK THAK WEALTH. 197 
 
 cool and refreshing beside the loud gaudy 
 silks of the other guests. 
 
 Perhaps her only extravagance was an 
 indulgence in the best of shoes and gloves ; 
 and certainly any one might see that her 
 pretty feet were beautifully shod when, as 
 on this day, she wore a short dress. A 
 little of her mother's soft old lace around 
 her delicate throat and wrists, and — with 
 the addition of silver bracelets and a 
 locket — her dress was very near perfection, 
 though the fabric probably cost less than 
 thirty shillings. She was tired and lan- 
 guid with the heat ; and her torturing 
 thoughts gave her not a moment's rest. 
 And then the intense vulgarity of the 
 Dunns oppressed and subdued her, simply 
 because she had not sufficient energy to 
 resist the disagreeable influence. 
 
 '* Henery," dressed in remarkably tight 
 clothes, and with a collar that seemed on
 
 198 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 the point of throttling him, advanced with 
 slow decisive steps to her chair, when she 
 and the other "ladies" were in the draw- 
 ing-room. Old Dunn, standing with his legs 
 wide apart, his thumbs in the arm-holes of 
 his waistcoat, and his head thrown back, was 
 magisterially laying down the law to the 
 dear yeoman, who listened humbly to the 
 rich man — listened with his handsome old 
 white head modestly bent, while he thought 
 of those three hundred pounds he owed 
 his wealthy neighbour, and wondered 
 how and when he should manage to pay 
 them. 
 
 Hearing his darling's voice, he looked 
 across to her, his fond old heart swelling 
 with pride and love, and with grief too, 
 that as things were, unless she married 
 Reuben, she must go out into the hard, 
 cold world when her home w^as broken up. 
 Dorcas met her father's eyes with a smile
 
 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 199 
 
 of affection, but as she smiled liow her 
 heart ached to think she had a secret with- 
 held from him. Listening to " Henery's " 
 wearisome commonplaces, she could yet 
 contrast those two men opposite — the 
 gentle deference and kindliness of the one 
 with the overbearing coarseness of the 
 other. But dinner was announced, and 
 then, with much form and ceremony, they 
 all marched in. Poor Squire Fleming 
 never saw such a spread iioiv on his 
 meagre table as that which graced 
 Eeuben's too hospitable board. Such a 
 magnificent salmon could only come from 
 lordly Severn, which wound hither and. 
 thither in this favoured county. Dorcas 
 thought Reuben looked well at the foot of 
 his table — a genial host chatting lightly, as 
 he rapidly sliced the huge fish. Mrs. 
 Dunn, on his left hand, saw that very 
 innocent glance from Dorcas, and thought,
 
 200 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Ah, the artful, good-for-nothing hussy, 
 how she'd hke to catch him or Henerj, but 
 she shan't have one or t'other as long as I 
 am to the fore." 
 
 Dinner proceeded ; the onenu was long, 
 the joints large and steaming, and the 
 low-ceilinged room became odorous and 
 " stuffy " to poor Dorcas. 
 
 " Henery " had for the most part been too 
 busy in satisfying a very healthy appetite 
 to talk much, and Dorcas had found 
 some divert! sement in seeing the enor- 
 mous amount of food the ponderous Mr. 
 Dunn noisily consumed. It was disagree- 
 able ; and as his face became redder and 
 redder from constant potations of sherry 
 and champagne, she began to fear a 
 catastrophe in the shape of an apoplectic 
 fit. What a relief it was when the stage 
 of dessert was reached, and piled-up dishes 
 of strawberries, raspberries, and grapes
 
 KICHER THAN WEALTH. 201 
 
 took the place of tlie heavy meats and 
 pastry. With the champagne, or rather 
 after the first glasses, '' Henery " became 
 more at ease ; at all events, he roused his 
 companion, who for some time had been 
 leaning back in her chair fanning herself, 
 and thinking of some one of whom, alas ! 
 she ought not to have thought — of some 
 one's dark, proud eyes which seemed to 
 read her every thought ; of some one's 
 sweet, deep, resonant voice speaking words 
 which had thrilled her with love too 
 exquisite, and shame almost too bitter 
 to be borne. 
 
 " How's your arm, Miss Finch ? " asked 
 '' Henery." 
 
 " Quite well, thank you," replied she, 
 vexed to feel a sudden warmth in her 
 cheek which told her she was blushing, 
 and blushing before such a boor ! 
 
 " That Captain Maynard can handle his
 
 202 mCHEH THAN WEALTH. 
 
 bat deuced well, you know. Dear, though, 
 what a drive that was ! I wonder it didn't 
 kill you. By Jove, I can see his face now 
 when he saw you on the ground. I believe 
 he thought it was u p with you, Miss 
 Dorcas. He's a deuced high and mighty sort 
 of a chap ; I don't much like him myself." 
 
 " What a pity ! Captain Maynard 
 might be hurt if he knew you disliked 
 him, Mr. Dunn." 
 
 " Come, now, Miss Dorcas, don't chaff 
 a fellow." 
 
 A good deal of loud and noisy talk was 
 going on, and young Dunn, finding Dorcas 
 was inclined to be satirical, joined in the 
 general topics, and left his companion in 
 peace. At length good Mrs. WilHams, 
 slightly flushed from her son's good port 
 and good cheer generally, rose, and the 
 ladies adjourned to the drawing-room and 
 garden. Dorcas, happy to be released
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 203 
 
 from that dreadful atmospliere, betook 
 herself to a seat under a great shady tree 
 on the lawn. 
 
 Though all the four gh^ls present joined 
 together as against a common enemy in 
 criticizing her, they were, nevertheless, not 
 quite at ease when in her immediate 
 proximity. Dorcas possessed no diplo- 
 macy. If she unfortunately did not care 
 for people, she was too sincere to profess 
 spurious interest. She was polite but 
 cold to Emma and Annie Williams. To 
 Annabel and Jane Dunn she was polite 
 but still colder. They declared she was 
 stuck up and gave herself airs. Perhaps 
 she did. What had she in common with 
 those giggling girls, whose only topics 
 were young men and possible matrimony ? 
 These young people were lamentably 
 ignorant, except in the way of being able 
 to play and sing tolerably ; and they had
 
 204 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 no desire for anything more elevated. 
 Their noisy tongues ran on incessantly 
 about the last tennis-set, the last dance ; 
 and these things were to the Misses 
 Williams and Dunn the chief interest of 
 life. Dorcas was far too observant and 
 sensitive not to notice something very 
 hostile and offensive to herself in Mrs. 
 Dunn's beady black eyes. Dorcas 
 imagined, too, she read in those unkind 
 eyes an intelligence greater than was 
 desirable. Feeling guilty, she felt doubly 
 that in Mrs. Dunn she possessed an enemy 
 who would gladly injure her. Had she 
 been happy, — with *' a conscience void of 
 offence," — she would have laughed at her 
 animosity. 
 
 Marry poor Reuben ! that was now im- 
 possible, even if it had ever been possible. 
 Had she liked him less, she might have 
 been tempted to risk his happiness in a
 
 ETCHEK THAN WEALTH. 205 
 
 marriage with herself, but since her meet- 
 ing with Maynard any such marriage was 
 impossible. With this want of sympathy 
 or union between her and her companions, 
 it was not strange that they left her to 
 herself after a few words, and strolled 
 off together with their arms affectionately 
 twined round each other's waists. Dorcas, 
 when they were out of sight and when 
 their giggling was inaudible, thought this 
 might be a happy home for a woman if it 
 were not subject to the influx of such 
 people as the Dunns. " How could Reuben 
 endure them ? " she wondered ; rather than 
 meet or be with such people she would be 
 anything — even the nursery-governess that 
 Mrs. Anstey recommended her to become. 
 In the drawing-room the elder women 
 were enjoying scandal to their heart's 
 content; good Mrs. Finch, when laughing 
 over the follies of others, little imagined
 
 206 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 that before nio^ht a cruel slur would be 
 cast on lier own daughter's reputation. 
 
 While Dorcas was filled with disdainful 
 thoughts of her neighbours, a keen, keen 
 pang struck her — what was she that she 
 should dare to hold herself so much above 
 them ? Had any of them, foolish as 
 they were, been guilty of attracting an 
 engaged man until he loved her? Poor 
 Dorcas ! — for the next half-hour she was 
 humble enough. By that time the other 
 girls rejoined her, and endeavoured to 
 persuade her to join them in a set of 
 tennis, but she declined on the score of 
 the heat. 
 
 '' Ah, she is waiting until jour brother 
 comes out," whispered Annabel to Emma. 
 " She'll play fast enough when the men 
 come out." 
 
 The four girls enjoyed a merry game, 
 and Dorcas wished — ah, how much ! — that
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 207 
 
 she could laug'li in the same joyous fashion. 
 Presently the young men appeared and 
 sauntered, smoking, towards the tennis- 
 players. Reuben's time for a chat with 
 Dorcas was now come. Standing before 
 her, he said, a little sadly, — 
 
 "All this noise is out of yoar way, is it 
 not?" 
 
 " Perhaps it ought to be in my way, 
 Reuben." 
 
 " No, I should not like to see you one 
 with them. Is it too warm for you to 
 come as far as the plantation and the 
 glen ? I have something to show you 
 there." 
 
 So they walked over the smooth lawn 
 past the tennis-players — Dorcas quite 
 unaware of all the envy, hatred, and 
 malice she was raising in Annabel's bosom 
 by taking Reuben away. A pretty wind- 
 ing walk through shrubberies of rhodo-
 
 20S ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 dendrons brought them to the glen, 
 whence came the pleasant sound of 
 rushing water. By this tumultuous stream 
 Reuben had made a magical transformation 
 — continuous beds of ferns drooped their 
 delicate fronds over mossy stones and 
 roots of trees, forming as a whole a most 
 charming picture on this hot day. 
 
 '' How lovely, Reuben ! " said Dorcas 
 enthusiastically. So this is your improve- 
 ment ! But how quiet you have been 
 about it ! and now it looks as if it had 
 been made for years." 
 
 " I thought you would like it. Indeed, 
 I was thinking of you, Dorcas, all the time 
 I was making it." 
 
 Dorcas turned a little paler. He had 
 never directly spoken of love to her, but 
 she had long known she was tenderly be- 
 loved by him, and now it appeared he was 
 going to speak words that were irrevocable.
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 209 
 
 " I think you know all I would say, 
 Dorcas. You know, dear, that this is 
 your home, waiting, waiting for you when- 
 ever you will come to me." 
 
 " I can never come, Reuben. I can 
 never be anything more than I am now 
 to you, dear friend." 
 
 '' I have feared so. But oh, Dorcas ! 
 I have lately thought you seemed very 
 unhappy ; as your friend, cannot I help 
 you ? Oh, trust me, dear, for I fear you 
 are in trouble." 
 
 She shook her head and then slowly re- 
 turned towards the higher ground. When 
 Reuben was again by her side there were 
 traces of tears on her face. 
 
 " Reuben, I am so sorry I cannot be 
 what — what you wish. You must learn to 
 forget me." 
 
 " You know I can never forget you. I 
 shall remain as I am; but, dear, if you are 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 ever in trouble — wliicli God forbid — I will 
 be as if I were your brother." 
 
 Silently and very slowly they returned. 
 Old Mr. Finch met them just as they 
 were leaving the shrubberies. Dorcas 
 thought her father looked pale and care- 
 worn, as well he might, for the instant 
 Reuben and the other juniors had left the 
 dining-room Mr. Dunn had stated plainly 
 that he wanted his money, and, unless 
 Mr. Finch wished things to be very un- 
 pleasant between them, he must pay it 
 within a month. 
 
 " Three hundred pounds within a 
 month!" echoed the yeoman as he sadly 
 wandered off by himself, his head bent and 
 his hands clasped behind his back. 
 
 " Oh, Reuben, father would so like to 
 see your pretty glen, so I will take him, 
 and perhaps you had better go back to the 
 house," she said with a smile. '' I must
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 211 
 
 not monopolize all your attention, yon 
 know." 
 
 Reuben protested lie would stay witli 
 them, but Dorcas was firm and sent him 
 off. 
 
 *' Come, father dear," she said, putting 
 her hand caressingly through his arm. 
 " What has made you so grave ? Come, 
 you should forget business-cares and 
 bothers on holidays." 
 
 " I wish I could, my dear; I wish I 
 could. Dunn has just told me he wants 
 his money within the month, and God 
 knows where 'tis to come from, I don't." 
 
 '' Why does he dare to be always asking 
 for the money when he has the interest 
 paid so regularly, and when he holds such 
 good security ? " 
 
 " Just because I am down in the world, 
 child. Ten years agone Joe Dunn was cap 
 in hand to me. Ay, hut there's a rare dif- 
 p 2
 
 212 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 ference now. I wish I'd a kept at home 
 to-day. A good dinner is a mortal good 
 and relishing thing, but Joe Dunn's sauce 
 has somehow spoiled mine to-day." 
 
 " What a disgusting brute he is ! " said 
 she angrily. ''But here's the fernery, 
 father. Isn't it pretty ? " 
 
 " Ay, 'tis pretty, very pretty indeed. 
 Reuben was always a man of taste. 
 He'd make a good husband, Dorcas, and 
 he worships the very ground you tread on. 
 Don't you think, my pretty maid, as you 
 could take to him by-and-by ? " 
 
 " Never, father. I like him so much, 
 but not like that," she said hurriedly. 
 "You would not have me marry him 
 unless I loved him, would you ? " 
 
 " No, no ; no good comes o' marriages 
 unless they begin in love and kindness. 
 And yet it seems such a pity too. You 
 seem made for each other. For Reuben is
 
 RICHER THAN T\T;ALTH. 213 
 
 a gentleman, aj, almost as mucli of a gen- 
 tleman as Captain Majnard." 
 
 He neither saw the bright blush nor felt 
 the start Dorcas gave just then. 
 
 " Dorcas, when I think of what's before 
 yon when I am gone, I can't sleep o' 
 nights, dear. I can't bear to think as you 
 must turn out and earn your bread unless 
 you marry Reuben or some other good 
 man. Ay, a good un he must be, for I'll 
 let no scamp say a word to my little 
 wench," said he proudly, and patting the 
 delicate hand with his own horny one. 
 " What a pretty hand to be sure ! like 
 a bit of chany or waxwork." 
 
 " Father, I have a scheme for my future 
 life. How I do hope you will let me do as 
 I wish ! " 
 
 " What scheme ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 *' I want you to let me go to London and 
 learn to be a great singer — "
 
 214 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " What, you ! A public singing- woman ! 
 Like that brazen-faced hussy I saw at 
 Exton a year ago ! No, no ; us Finches are 
 got down in the world, I'll allow, but not 
 so low as that neither, for my daughter to 
 stand up and make an exhibition of her- 
 self." 
 
 "But, father dear, ladies, real ladies, 
 sing at concerts now, and get very hand- 
 somely paid when they sing well." 
 
 " I doubt the ladies are not over good, 
 or they wouldn't let down their dignity in 
 that fashion, my dear. No, Dorcas, you 
 must clean put all that nonsense out of 
 your head. But I have thought as you 
 might go out as a governess in some nice 
 gentleman's family. I'll warrant Miss 
 Edith could find you a nice place where I 
 should be happy about you, and where the 
 lady would take care of you like a mother. 
 And, you see, your eddication would then
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 215 
 
 be of use to you, my clear, and bring you 
 a good home wlien I am gone. I liear as 
 they treat the governesses very different to 
 what they used." 
 
 '* But, father dear, I could never be a 
 governess. I should bate it. I don't 
 think I am particularly fond of children ; 
 and teaching stupid children is such awful 
 drudgery." 
 
 " But ladies does it, my dear. Ah, you 
 don't remember Miss Haddon who taught 
 Miss Edith, as nice a spoken lady, and as 
 happy and as kind as ever I see." 
 
 " Yes, I daresay; but some places are 
 quite different ; some people treat their 
 governesses as if they w^ere not so good as 
 their servants ! Father, I am too proud, 
 I could not bear that sort of thinof. Do 
 let me go to London ; I can manage to pay 
 the premium, I think, by selling some of my 
 drawings, and working at some more."
 
 216 KICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 *^I won't hear of it, I won't "bear of it; 
 you are downright foolish and silly to think 
 of pursuing such a course. You know no- 
 thing at all about it, and 'tis quite as well 
 as you don't. So not another word on 
 that subject, Dorcas. And now come back ; 
 they'll think as we have run away ! " 
 
 So again she returned, this time dis- 
 heartened, and vexed with her father. She 
 thought him unwise and obstinate, deciding 
 harshly and wrongly on a subject of which 
 he knew nothing. If the father was obsti- 
 nate, the daughter certainly inherited his 
 failing, for in spite of his opposition she 
 still determined to follow her original 
 design.
 
 KICHEB THAN WEALTH. 217 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " That I should love a bright, particular star, 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me ! " 
 
 AlVs Well that Ends Well, Act i. Sc. 1. 
 
 " I love thee in such sort 
 That, thou being mine, mine is thy good report." 
 
 Sonnet xxxvi. 
 
 Another game of tennis was going on when 
 thej readied the lawn, and Dorcas deter- 
 mined to join in the next set. Mr. Dunn, 
 sitting with his thumbs again in the arm- 
 holes of his waistcoat, expanded his ample 
 chest, as he puffed out huge wreaths of 
 smoke from his cigar. His attitude offen- 
 sively suggested the idea that he was 
 thinking, '' Oh, what a fine, successful man
 
 218 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 am I !" Dorcas passed him witli a certain 
 proud contempt in her eyes, which made him 
 feel less at ease. She accepted '' Henery " 
 as a partner instead of monopolizing her 
 host. Two sets were at once made up, and 
 our heroine played finely, while young 
 Dunn did his best to make pretty speeches 
 to which she was deaf, thinking of other 
 things, alas. 
 
 Reuben, solely for her benefit, had 
 arranged tea in a pretty al fresco fashion 
 under the shady trees instead of the usual 
 ponderous meal in the dining-room, whither 
 all the seniors were gone. Dorcas tried 
 hard to be genial and to feel interested in 
 her companions' mirth ; but the more she 
 tried the more conscious she was of her 
 complete failure. She was very sorry, for 
 Reuben's sake; her quietness seemed so 
 ungracious when his every thought was for 
 her. After tea Annabel, who was really
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 219 
 
 a rather pretty girl and quite the best of 
 the family, proposed a walk to the dell with 
 her. 
 
 '• I suppose Miss Fleming's wedding is 
 fixed, isn't it?" asked Annabel, with her 
 sharp eye on her companion's face. 
 
 " Not that I am aware of." 
 
 " Oh, I thought the marriage was really 
 coming off at last, as Captain Maynard 
 keeps staying on so. Don't you think 
 he's an awfully nice-looking man, so tall 
 and straight ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think Captain Maynard is very 
 good-looking." 
 
 " He is often down at jouv house, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Very often." 
 
 '' And you are very thick with Miss 
 Fleming. I suppose you are to be one of 
 the bridesmaids ? " 
 
 " That is highly improbable; you forget,
 
 220 RTCHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Miss Dunn, tlaat I am not of Miss Fleming's 
 rank." 
 
 "No, I have not forgotten, but as she 
 lias taken you up so, anything might hap- 
 pen. How funny that Captain Maynard 
 should have batted that ball at you ; Henry 
 told us all about it." 
 
 '' I assure you it was not at all funny, 
 but excessively disagreeable and painful." 
 
 " I shouldn't have minded the pain if he 
 had been as concerned for me afterwards 
 as Henry said he was about youJ' 
 
 Annabel was trying hard to get a sign of 
 confusion or emotion from Dorcas, but as 
 yet she had signally failed. 
 
 " I suppose he is a splendid tennis-player 
 too, isn't he?" 
 
 " Yes, he plays very well." 
 
 " And when he marries Miss Fleming, 
 they both come into a great French fortune, 
 don't they?"
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 221 
 
 " I believe so, but really you seem better 
 acquainted with Miss Fleming's private 
 affairs than I am," said Dorcas, getting tired 
 of her cross-examination. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Dorcas, perhaps you under- 
 stand Captain Maynard's affairs better ? " 
 returned she with a malicious laugh. 
 
 •' I don't understand you," said Dorcas 
 haughtily. 
 
 '' Oh yes, I think you do," replied the 
 other, with such an insolent look that 
 Dorcas crimsoned with anger as she faced 
 her enemy. 
 
 " "What do you mean ? Do you wish to 
 insult me ? " she asked unwisely. 
 
 " Insult you ! Oh dear no. Miss Dorcas, 
 only I wonder if Miss Fleming would ap- 
 prove of Captain Maynard's pretty leave- 
 takings over the stile — no, over the rail, I 
 mean ! That's all. Miss Dorcas Finch ! " 
 
 Then, seeing her shaft had struck home,
 
 222 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 she lauglied and left her victim, who stood 
 astonished at her insolence and audacity, 
 and felt how powerless she was to refute 
 that which was, alas ! no invention. Then, 
 with an unutterable shame and regret, she 
 realized how terribly she had fallen from 
 her high estate. To be openly taunted by 
 another woman ! To have it said she had 
 allowed Maynard such liberty ! She felt 
 angry with him, angry with herself and, 
 indeed, with all the world. If anger and 
 disdain would have annihilated her enemy, 
 Annabel would have been put to confusion 
 there and then. Now she understood 
 what had puzzled her — all the innuendoes 
 and covert sneers and the disagreeable 
 consciousness in the glances of the female 
 Dunns ! And she would still have to pass 
 three or four hours in their hateful 
 company. 
 
 Annabel had left her about half-way
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 228 
 
 between the house and the dell ; and while 
 she was still in the shrubbery, and nndecided 
 whether to go on or return to the house, 
 Reuben came up. 
 
 " We are just going for a walk round 
 the farm, won't you come too, Dorcas ? " 
 
 " Not to-day, I think. Don't look so 
 disappointed ! " 
 
 " What makes you so pale, Dorcas ? " he 
 said quickly. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing ; I am only a little 
 tired. I will o'O into the drawinsf-room 
 until you all come back. Do, please, go, 
 Reuben, I — oh dear, I could not ! — " 
 
 Then, much to his astonishment, she 
 burst into tears. 
 
 '' I can't leave you like this. What is 
 it, dear?" 
 
 '' Nothing, nothing; only the heat. Do 
 go ; don't keep them waiting." 
 
 " They may wait for ever ! " he said
 
 224 RICH KB THAN WEALTH. 
 
 savagely. " Has any one dared to vex 
 you, Dorcas ? " 
 
 " No, no. Please leave me, Reuben. I 
 am only stupid and hysterical." 
 
 " As you will," lie said sadly ; '' but let 
 me send your mother to you ? ' ' 
 
 " Pray do not ! and — and don't mention 
 this — this folly of mine." 
 
 " Very well, dear. Go and lie down, 
 you sha'n't be disturbed." 
 
 So, with the exception of Dorcas, every 
 one started off, under Reuben's guidance 
 through his luxuriant fields. 
 
 Everywhere the air was pervaded with 
 the delicious perfume of new-mown hay, 
 which lay about in the pastures in its 
 various stages of making. 
 
 This day Reuben felt little of the pride 
 of proprietorship, as he walked by the side 
 of the yeoman and his wife. Mrs. Finch, 
 seeing that her husband was very much
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 225 
 
 graver than usual, had put her arm through, 
 his, and so the old husband and wife 
 walked through the fields. 
 
 While everybody was congratulating 
 Reuben on his fine crop, his splendid 
 specimens of short-horn cattle and other 
 things, into which he had thrown all his 
 energies that they might be good and 
 excellent of their kind, he half loathed 
 the praise accorded him, thinking only 
 of a beautiful girl who just then was in 
 his house alone and overwhelmed with 
 trouble. 
 
 The company had formed themselves 
 generally into couples, and these couples 
 were more or less scattered. The last of 
 all were Mrs. WiUiams and Mrs. Dunn, 
 and they were talking in very subdued 
 and earnest tones. Mrs. Dunn's voice, 
 however, preponderated. 
 
 After some time, Mrs. Williams ex- 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 claimed, " I don't believe a word of it ! 
 It's all a wicked falsehood ! I have 
 known her all her life, and a sweeter, 
 modester girl never breathed." 
 
 " No, but just listen, Mrs. Williams. 
 Annabel and Jane saw Captain — " 
 
 Then her voice was dropped, and after 
 a time Mrs. Williams gave no more ex- 
 pression to her doubts of these stories, but 
 instead gave the pale Dorcas a very search- 
 ing and cold glance when they all returned 
 to the drawing-room and found her there 
 reading. 
 
 Supper proved a very dreary meal. 
 Everybody was formal and a great deal 
 too polite. Reuben, the host, was gloomy 
 — indeed, sullen with anger. He had a 
 suspicion the Dunns had in some way 
 insulted Dorcas, and he saw that Annabel 
 looked uncomfortable. And indeed Anna- 
 bel was more than uncomfortable — she was
 
 RICHEE THAN WEALTH. 227 
 
 ashamed when she saw Dorcas' white, 
 weary face. 
 
 Directly supper was over, they returned 
 to the drawing-room, where card-tables 
 for whist, and a round game, were ready. 
 
 Dorcas, when all the others were at their 
 games, was asked to sing, as she had 
 declined playing cards. She at once went 
 to the piano and began Gounod's Serenade. 
 Though there were so many tears in her 
 beautiful voice, perhaps she had seldom 
 sung with more touching power and grace. 
 A few hours earlier she would have had a 
 rinof of defiance in her notes, both to 
 convince her father that her pretensions 
 were not mere vanity, and also to kill those 
 stupid, insolent Dunns with envy. But 
 now without any effort she accomplished 
 both her wishes, simply because she was 
 now beyond such small considerations. 
 
 As she sang, her father was convinced; 
 Q 2
 
 228 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 but the conviction brouglit Mm a fear, 
 almost a terror for tlie future of his child, 
 who possessed such a perfect accomplish- 
 ment. And Annabel realized more than 
 ever the great barrier between herself and 
 Dorcas. She felt the other's gentle good- 
 breeding as she had never felt it before. 
 
 The card-players, with mutual consent, 
 stopped to listen, and when she ceased, a 
 genuine burst of approval came. 
 
 '' Bravo ! bravo ! Encore ! encore ! " 
 shouted old Dunn. " By gad ! Miss 
 Dorcas, you'd bring the house down if 
 you were in a music-hall. If I was you, 
 I'd cultivate that sort. You'd bring in 
 a pretty penny." 
 
 " What do you mean ? My daughter 
 isn't going into any play-acting music- 
 halls," said her father angrily. 
 
 " Why not ? As good as she goes on 
 the stage, I reckon, and no harm neither ! "
 
 EICHEE THAls WEALTH. 229 
 
 '' You lie ! " cried old Finch furiously, 
 springing up and throwing his cards 
 down. 
 
 " Oh, I lie, do I ? " replied Dunn, also 
 rising, and evidently with difficulty curhing 
 his passion. 
 
 " Oh, William ! " said poor Mrs. Finch, 
 " you should not have said that." 
 
 " Why not ? why not ? Is that scoun- 
 drel to insult my child because I owe him 
 three hundred pounds ? Confound him 
 and his money too ! " 
 
 " Pray command yourself, Mr. Finch," 
 said Reuben. " Come out with me into 
 the garden. It's warm in here." 
 
 " I'll go into the garden fast enough if 
 that fellow will stand up and fight like a 
 man." 
 
 "Curse it all, I'll fight you fast enough, 
 if that's what you want. I was never 
 back'ard with my fists as I know on."
 
 230 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " I won't have no fighting, Joe," said 
 Mrs. Dunn. 
 
 "Oh, William, WiUiam ! " cried Mrs. 
 Finch. 
 
 " Father," said Dorcas, stepping up to 
 him and laying her hand on his arm, " Mr. 
 Dunn meant no insult when he spoke of 
 my becoming a professional singer. You 
 know it is my own wish to become one. 
 Pray apologize for your hard words — " 
 
 " All very fine. Miss Dorcas, all very 
 pretty, but apologies are too late now. I'll 
 take the lie from no man, I'll sell your 
 father up, stock and block." 
 
 *' \Yill you ruin my father in revenge for 
 a hasty, ill-judged word, Mr. Dunn ? For 
 shame, sir ! Have you forgotten the time 
 when he saved you from ruin and stood 
 your friend, when others forsook you ? " 
 
 It was a strange scene. Every one was 
 standing ; the women, pale and frightened.
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 231 
 
 huddled up together ; the two elder men 
 white and trembling from passion, with 
 Dorcas exactly between them, grave, calm, 
 stately, and inexpressibly lovely, appealing 
 to each in turn. 
 
 " Say, sir, you will not stoop to be so 
 base as to turn an old man houseless and 
 homeless on the world. Give me but 
 time, and I will see that your debt is 
 paid." 
 
 " What ! Dorcas, do you dare to ask 
 favour from him? Let him do his worst ; 
 let him sell me up if he chooses — the mean 
 pitiful scoundrel ! " cried the incensed old 
 man, trembling with impotent wrath. 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Finch," said Reuben ; 
 " I agree with Dorcas that you are taking 
 offence where none was intended. All this 
 is very disagreeable and wrong, you know. 
 I am sure when you are cooler you will see 
 you had no right to speak as you did to
 
 2B2 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 Mr. Dunu. And you, Mr. Dunn, should 
 have remembered past days, and not have 
 threatened an old friend when he was 
 angry. You know I am a man of few 
 words, but I wish you to understand tbat 
 while I have a pound or an acre to bless 
 myself with, my old friend shall not be sold 
 up for three times three hundred pounds. 
 AVben I lost my father, he was a father to 
 me. I owe him more than I can ever pay. 
 But I won't talk of that. I'll make good 
 my debt any day." 
 
 The just young man's speech struck the 
 elders with something like shame. Dorcas 
 felt proud of him, — grateful with an im- 
 mense gratitude, — and full, full of sorrow, 
 that she could never requite him for his 
 generous championship of her father. 
 
 '' I suppose, Mr. "Williams, you are so 
 ready to help the father for the daughter's 
 sake. Are we to congratulate you on your
 
 EICHEK THAN WEALTH. 238 
 
 engagement to Miss Dorcas ? " said Mrs. 
 Dunn, with a malicious laugh. 
 
 '• No, ma'am, I am not so fortunate ; but 
 Miss Fincli knows, and has known for a 
 long time, that I should consider myself 
 the happiest of men if she would consent 
 to become my wife and the mistress of my 
 home." 
 
 " Well, I never ! I allays was for plain 
 speaking, but this beats all I ever heard. 
 Come, girls, it's time as we was going, and 
 I think it uU be a longish time afore I set 
 a foot in this house again. How I do pity 
 a poor blind young man walking right into 
 a trap !" 
 
 " You hold your infernal tongue, Sarah," 
 growled out old Dunn, with a menacing 
 look. '' I won't say but what I have been 
 wrong to threaten Mr. Finch, but he was 
 wrongest to give me the lie. And I say 
 this, as I respects a girl as stands up for
 
 234 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 her father as Miss Dorcas has, and there, 
 hang it all, if Mr. Finch ull say he's sorry 
 why I'll say so too, and shake hands. 
 'Tain't me as wants to be quarrelling with 
 old friends," he muttered surlily. " 'Tis 
 the confounded women-folks as keeps 
 nagging and nagging one so." 
 
 And so a kind of sullen reconciliation 
 took place between them, and Eeuben pro- 
 posed some hot grog before they turned 
 out, and with that end in view took the 
 greater portion of his guests back to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Mrs. Dunn and her daughters went up- 
 stairs to prepare for their drive home, and 
 the three Williamses accompanied them, 
 leaving Dorcas by herself. It was hard to 
 this proud girl to feel herself thus con- 
 demned by these people; she could only cry, 
 Mea culpa, mea culpa! as she stood resting 
 her achino: head on the mantleshelf. So
 
 BICHER THAN WEALTH. 235 
 
 she remained some time alone, inexpres- 
 sibly sad and weary. It appeared to her 
 that her wrong-doing was bringing home 
 a harvest of evil and humihation to her 
 people. 
 
 She had just brushed some tears away, 
 when to her surprise Annabel came in 
 hurriedly. 
 
 *' Dorcas, I ought not to have said what 
 I did to you this afternoon. I am sorry I 
 insulted you. I never Hked you half so 
 well before as I have this evening. It's 
 not your fault if all the men go cracked 
 about you ; you can't help it. I have hated 
 and envied you for years, but I'll never say 
 another word against you. Somehow, when 
 you stood up and spoke to father, I felt 
 ashamed of myself, so I could not go before 
 I spoke to you, and we sha'n't meet much 
 more, I fancy. Your road will lie far apart 
 from ours. Now say you forgive me. I had
 
 236 KICHER THAN WKALTH. 
 
 no right to taunt you with what is a dread- 
 ful trouble, I expect." 
 
 " You are quite forgiven, Annabel." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation Annabel 
 threw her arms round Dorcas' neck, and, 
 kissing her passionately, left as abruptly as 
 she had come — while her apology touched 
 and soothed the other wonderfully. 
 
 " I may never be able to pay you back, 
 Reuben, my lad," said the yeoman sadly, 
 when he was alone with the former in his 
 business-room. 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear sir, you will soon 
 be seeking some good investment if the 
 harvest comes up to its promise." 
 
 " Ay, but ye forget, Reuben, I have a 
 heavy rent to pay afore I can count on 
 profits ; and, lad, ye ought to ha' five per 
 cent, for your money." 
 
 " No, four, Mr. Finch, not one farthing 
 more, and I shall be glad to get my cash
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 237 
 
 out at that rate on such good security. 
 Ten per cent. ! What an iniquitous thief 
 that Dunn is ! " 
 
 " Mj lad, I was glad enough to get the 
 money at any price. Ye'll understand, 
 Jim was in a scrape, and the money must 
 be had willy-nilly. Oh, but ye ha' lifted a 
 weight off my heart ! Ye'll never press 
 me for payment, lad. Oh, if ye knew how 
 I have been afeared to meet that man this 
 two years an' more. He has always a kind 
 o' rode over me, and yet he was a little 
 shock-headed carter's boy in my father's 
 time, glad enough to get a word from me, 
 his young master. But ye have set me 
 free. As I said, I may never be able to 
 pay back what is due to you, or to requite 
 you for your goodness, but there's One, 
 Reuben, who ne'er for2:ets the grood deed 
 done. Somehow you seem nearer to me 
 than my own son ; he is my own flesh and
 
 238 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 blood, but we don't understand each other, 
 — can't get quite friendly like. His ways 
 ain't like mine, and yet I ha' done for him 
 a hundred times more than my father ever 
 did for me. There's another question still 
 betwixt us ; you know as I'd be proud to 
 see my darling your wife, but young maids 
 are sometimes hard to understand, and, 
 Reuben, Dorcas likes you dearly, but not 
 with such liking as ye want, my lad, but 
 that won't change you. I'd be glad to 
 think that when I am gone ye'd take care 
 of her as if she was your sister. She is 
 such a pretty maid, so like a lady, I don't 
 think as she was made to ha' to fight and 
 struggle for her living." 
 
 " Mr. Finch, if ever Dorcas or Mrs. 
 Finch should want a home, they will find 
 one here as long as I live, ay, and after 
 too." 
 
 " Ay, I thought as you would allays
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 239 
 
 stand their friend, Reuben," returned the 
 old man huskily. 
 
 " Then, sir, I'll ride over to-morrow 
 and give Hawkins directions about paying 
 off Dunn, and transferrins: the morto^aere 
 to me. And^ — and are yon in any present 
 need of cash ? " 
 
 " JSTo, thank ye kindly ; I think I can 
 tide over harvest with the money coming 
 in from the bullocks, but if I do want a 
 pound or two, why I'll just take you at 
 your word, my lad. I am sorry I let out 
 so this evening, but I could not stand his 
 insolence. He was on about that three 
 hundred pounds as soon as you left the 
 room after dinner, and made me feel all- 
 overish like. Thank God, my neck is no 
 longer under his foot." 
 
 " Heuben, how can I thank you for 
 standing up for poor father so ? " ex- 
 claimed Dorcas, when they were for a
 
 240 RICHER THAN WP^ALTE. 
 
 minute alone ; " but, oh, why did you let 
 them all know you loved me ? " 
 
 " I should be proud for all the world to 
 know it, dear. Dorcas, Dorcas, are you 
 sure it can never be ? I will wait for years. 
 I will even be content if you can never love 
 me as some wives love their husbands, only 
 come to me, dear," he said passionately. 
 
 "What a happy woman I should be if I 
 could return your love, but — but I cannot, 
 Reuben. I never can, now," she replied. 
 
 And he saw her colour die away from 
 the intensity of some hidden emotion. A 
 question trembled on his lips, but in pity 
 he forbore to ask it. 
 
 "•' Dorcas, I have loved you ever since I 
 came to manhood. May I kiss you, dear ; 
 one kiss from the woman I love ! " 
 
 Dorcas, startled, blushed scarlet ; and 
 he saw she drew herself up with a proud 
 motion.
 
 lUCHEE THAN WEALTH. 241 
 
 '' No, no, Reuben ; don't ask me." 
 
 " Has he ever kissed jou ? " he asked 
 gloomily. 
 
 " Why do you insult me ? " she asked, 
 with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Yes, such a question is an insult to 
 you ; but you will forgive me for the sake 
 of old times ? " he whispered, as they heard 
 his mother and Mrs. Finch coming down- 
 stairs. 
 
 Dorcas said nothing, but he saw she was 
 deadly pale again, and then his heart smote 
 him for his cruelty. 
 
 When the girls and Mr. Adolphus had 
 said good-night, and Reuben and his 
 mother were alone, Mrs. Williams ex- 
 claimed, with genuine distress, — 
 
 " Oh, Reuben, do you know they say — 
 they say " — here she whispered — " that 
 Dorcas has lost her character." 
 
 '* What an infamous lie ! So that vile 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 EICHER THAN AVEALTH. 
 
 woman has been trying to poison your 
 mind against Dorcas, has she ? I thought 
 as much. By heaven, how I should like to 
 thrust her confounded inventions down her 
 throat! " he said fiercely. 
 
 " Oh, Reuben, don't swear and get so 
 angry." 
 
 " Swear ! it would make a saint swear. 
 Does Dorcas look like a girl who has lost 
 her character ? Is she not purity itself ? 
 I wonder you are not ashamed to repeat 
 such atrocious scandal. Great God ! is 
 there no way in which I could punish 
 that wicked woman ? Must her infernal 
 scandalous tongue be free to spread such 
 an atrocious falsehood ? " 
 
 " But oh, Reuben, you can't denj^ that 
 Captain Majmard is always at the farm, 
 and that he pays Dorcas most extraordinary 
 attentions, — and he engaged to Miss 
 Fleming all the time ! "
 
 RIOHEIl THAN WEALTH. 243 
 
 " Pooh, nonsense ! don't other men go 
 there ? Are not young Fleming and 
 Anstey, and, for that matter, am not I my- 
 self, too, always in and out of the house ? 
 And natural enough too, when there's 
 such a lovely girl there ! " 
 
 " Ah, dear, I don't know what to say, 
 I am sure. And there's her poor mother 
 knows nothing of it, and there was I this 
 very day showing her all the linen and 
 china and thino^s." 
 
 '' And why the mischief should you not 
 show the linen and things ! " 
 
 " And then, Reuben, you went and said 
 out before them all that she had refused 
 you!" 
 
 " I'll say it again, if you wish me," he 
 said angril}^ 
 
 '' Don't, don't be so catchy and angry, 
 Reuben. 'Tisn't like you." 
 
 *' Ah ! I'd be the proudest, happiest 
 R 2
 
 244 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 man in Stoneyshire if Dorcas would just 
 lay her hand in mine and smile ' Yes ' up 
 into my face. If that woman dares to 
 hint another word, I'll be hanged if I don't 
 go over and give her a good fright. Why, 
 her words are downright libellous ! Now 
 mother, you may like it or not, but I have 
 done with those people. I am sick of the 
 whole lot. The old man is the best of 
 them, and he's a coarse, vulgar brute. But 
 those women shall not cross my threshold 
 again. I am master here, you know, after 
 all, and I only invited them to please you 
 and the girls. Anyhow, they have been 
 here for the last time now." 
 
 " Oh ! Eeuben, don't say that, and we 
 such old friends ! " 
 
 "Friends ! I deny they are our friends. 
 They hang on to us because our position 
 is so much better than theirs, and because 
 they hope to catch me, but they have
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 245 
 
 little cliance of that ! " and he laughed 
 grimly. 
 
 '' Are not the girls to come in for any 
 more tennis, or anything?" 
 
 " Certainly not. They have all gone 
 out of their way to insult and malign the 
 woman I love, and I'll see them in another 
 place before they shall come here again. 
 You are at liberty to tell them every word 
 I have said. The more you frighten that 
 horrid, malicious old woman the better. 
 Now, mother, it's late ; you had better go 
 to bed." 
 
 Mrs. AVilliams knew she might as well 
 try to turn the church round as hope to 
 reverse her son's decision. 
 
 " Well, good-night, E-euben. I am in- 
 clined to think with you that it's all 
 wicked stories about that pretty Dorcas." 
 
 " Stories ! " he thundered, " they are 
 infernal lies ; only let me hear any one
 
 246 RICHER THAN WEAl.TH. 
 
 repeating tliem to me, and I'll make short 
 work of them, I can tell jou ! " 
 
 *' Oh ! Reuben, don't swear so — " 
 
 " Yon had better go to bed, and then 
 you won't hear me." 
 
 When the door closed upon his mother, 
 a piteous look of grief and anguish came 
 over his fine powerful face. 
 
 " Lost her character ! Why does he 
 not leave her ? If I thought he were a 
 villain, one of us should die. But he loves 
 her as truly as I love her myself. How 
 sweet she looked when she drew back 
 from me alarmed for those sweet lips of 
 hers, that are for him or no one. Ah ! 
 what that man has won ! And there he 
 is, as blind as a bat to poor Miss Edith's 
 hking him so, too ! I suppose 'tis being 
 in love oneself that makes one's eyes so 
 sharp. But it was a wicked arrangement. 
 There's no forcing the ties of nature ; if
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 247 
 
 they are interfered with all goes wrong. 
 I can't blame the man, for in the matter 
 of his marriage a man should choose for 
 himself. I'll go over and speak to her. 
 It is high time she should be put upon 
 her guard ; yet I'd rather lose half my 
 harvest than tell her her name is linked 
 with his. Please God her father may hear 
 nothing of it ! Poor old man, it would be 
 more bitter than losinsf house and home. 
 And all this comes as an ending to what 
 I thought might be a happy day ! I am 
 half of the Antiquary's mind, that women- 
 kind are at the bottom of all mischief! " 
 
 Going upstairs quietly, his foot touched 
 something soft ; it was a cream-tinted tea- 
 rose Dorcas had worn near her throat. 
 He picked it up, kissed it tenderly, and 
 for a moment the strong man's eyes were 
 soft and misty ; and presently he laid that 
 sweet but faded relic away with some
 
 248 EIOHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 more simple waifs and strajs which had 
 once been in her possession. 
 
 Long after her mother and father were 
 gone to rest, Dorcas was in her room ; for 
 her sleep and rest were impossible. That 
 her name should be openly linked with 
 his ! She had striven to avoid him, — to 
 reject his advances in every way, — but he 
 would not be rejected. She was learning 
 that men in their love are often cruel. 
 For some time she had been sitting in her 
 room, having just thrown off her hat and 
 jacket. 
 
 " Why should I try to be a hypocrite to 
 myself?" she said. " Since I love him, I 
 love him. Oh God, in pity forgive me ! " 
 
 Then with streaming eyes she walked 
 up and down with clasped hands, murmur- 
 ing between her low passionate sobs some 
 words in Italian. Presently she sat down 
 at her secretaire, and wrote off two verses
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 249 
 
 which were the very expression of her 
 anguish ; she read them over, pressed the 
 paper to her Hps and bosom, and, laying it 
 away, leaned her head down on her hands 
 in burning shame.
 
 250 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Sweet, above thought I love thee." 
 
 Troilus and Cressida^ Act iii. Sc. 1. 
 
 '' This is the very ecstasy of love ! " 
 
 Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 1. 
 
 From Harry, who called on Friday morn- 
 ing, Dorcas learned that on the morrow 
 Edith, Maynard, and himself were going 
 to a garden-party at the Cranston s', 
 and that Maynard was positively leaving 
 on Monday morning. Hephzibah in- 
 formed her that he had called again yester- 
 day when they were absent; but Friday 
 passed without his making his appearance, 
 and Dorcas thought she was now safe, as
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 251 
 
 his engagement to the Cranstons' would 
 prevent his coming the next day. This 
 Saturday was the 30th of June. Every- 
 where the hay was down, and people were 
 busy with the ingathering. Up to this time 
 the weather during the week had been all 
 that could be desired, bnfc this afternoon 
 there was a stillness and sultriness in 
 the air suggestive of a coming storm. 
 
 After a hurried early dinner, all the in- 
 mates of the house went to the meadows 
 to secure the hay before the storm came on, 
 leaving Dorcas sole care-taker. Feeling 
 quite secure against any possible visit from 
 Maynard, she was very glad to take a book 
 and go out to the favourite shady seat 
 on the lawm. She tried hard to fix her 
 thoughts on " Wallenstein;" for she regu- 
 larly kept up her reading in German, know- 
 ing how very important it was to do so ; 
 but after a time the readino^ was a mere
 
 252 ETCHEU THAN WEALTH. 
 
 pretence, the book was open on her 
 knees, and her hands were idly resting on 
 the pages. 
 
 So it was all over ! She would never see 
 him again ! He would in time forget her 
 and be happy with Edith. Just then she 
 was not quite sure whether she wished to 
 be forgotten. Perhaps, even, for a moment 
 she wished he might come once more ! As 
 if in answer to her wish, she heard the gate 
 open, and with astonishment beheld him 
 coming towards her ! Surprise made her 
 feel perfectly helpless, and she understood 
 that now a crisis had arrived from which 
 there was no escape ; he would speak, and 
 she must behave as well as she could. She 
 bowed w^hen, still some way off, he raised 
 his hat, and when he came nearer it grieved 
 her to see the change wrought in him by a 
 week's trouble. 
 
 '' I am fortunate in finding you at home
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 253 
 
 at last, but I believe you did not expect I 
 miglit call to-day." 
 
 *' No, I understood you were going to 
 Southwood." 
 
 '' The party is put off ; Mrs. Cranston is 
 very ill." 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry. How intensely sultry 
 it is to-day ! Father fears a storm, and the 
 hay is just ready for the stack; they are 
 all there," she said, not very lucidly. 
 
 '' I am come to say good-bye ; I leave 
 on Monday," and there was a tremble of 
 agitation in his voice. 
 
 '* Yes, Harry told me you were leaving 
 then," she replied, with her hands still 
 calmly crossed over her open book. He 
 had taken a chair very near to hers and 
 almost opposite to her. 
 
 " Dorcas ! " he said very softly, and 
 she never forgot the music of that one 
 word.
 
 254 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 " Captain Maynard," she replied, witli 
 magnificent surprise and hauteur, 
 
 " May I not call you Dorcas ? " 
 
 '' Certainly not." 
 
 And tlien she did look full at him, and 
 there was no sign of wavering in her grave 
 eyes. But she was not prepared to see him 
 l/urn ashy white, or for the expression of an 
 anguish and reproach that shocked her. 
 
 '' Shall I not get you something after 
 your walk ? " 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to go down 
 and see the hay being carried ? " 
 
 " If you will come ! " 
 
 " I cannot leave the house. Ah, here's 
 the rain, the hay will be spoiled," she said 
 sadly. 
 
 " They are only heat-drops, but you had 
 better go indoors." 
 
 At the porch he stopped.
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 255 
 
 " Pray come into tlie liall, Captain May- 
 nard." 
 
 '' Dorcas, Dorcas, where are tlie keys of 
 the granary? I want tlie rick-cloth quick," 
 called out Jim, coming in hot and dusty. 
 '' Oh, how do you do, Captain Maynard ? 
 we are in a tremendous hurry, so you must 
 excuse my running ofT. Dorcas, draw two 
 big cans of beer at once for the men, I'll 
 send Tommy Smith up for it," said he, 
 rushing off with the keys. 
 
 " Can't I draw the beer for you ? " asked 
 Maynard, smiling. 
 
 '' You can help, if you like, because the 
 cans are so heavy," she said, laughing 
 Hghtly. 
 
 " What a delightful place on a hot day ! " 
 said he, when they were in the cool arched 
 cellar, well stored v/ith mighty casks of ale 
 ready for the harvest. 
 
 Dorcas felt hysterically inclined to laugh,
 
 256 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 the height of absurdity seemed reached 
 when a love episode was interrupted by 
 drawing cans of ale. 
 
 " This one is full," she said, smiling, but 
 when he had gone with his burthen the 
 smile died away and a piteous look of care 
 came instead. 
 
 Tommy Smith was duly despatched with 
 his precious cans, and there was nothing 
 for it but to return to tlie hall or the great 
 parlour. 
 
 " You know," Maynard said gravely, 
 " that you once promised to show me 
 your room, and your water-colours. Miss 
 Fleming tells me they are very beautiful." 
 
 *' I am afraid they are only pretty good, 
 but I should like your opinion of them, be- 
 cause you are a judge." 
 
 Then she hesitated, feeling sure he 
 meant to speak to her again — but would it 
 not be better that he should speak, that
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 257 
 
 there should be a definite explanation 
 between them, and from her a definite 
 rejection ? 
 
 " Will you follow me, then. Captain May- 
 nard ? " she said, going before him up the 
 broad oak staircase, and presently turning 
 into her pretty room. The door leading 
 into her bedroom was open; she closed 
 it. 
 
 ^' What a charming room ! " he said, look- 
 ing round; ''you have surrounded yourself 
 with beauty, it is no wonder you are very 
 happy here ! And did you really do all 
 these drawings and water-colours ? " 
 
 " Yes, such as they are, but I have some 
 better ones in the portfolio ;" — then, with a 
 quick blush, " there are some I should like 
 to take out before you see them." 
 
 "Oh, I must see all — but not if you do 
 not w^sh me." 
 
 " It does not matter, they are only 
 VOL. I, s
 
 258 EICHEB THAN WEALTH. 
 
 sketches, one of Miss Fleming and one of 
 you." 
 
 " You have made me all curiosity." 
 
 Notwithstanding his preoccupation, he 
 looked very critically and carefully into the 
 pictures, most of which were beautifully- 
 finished sketches, taken in the immediate 
 neighbourhood, which abounded in ex- 
 quisite bits of landscape and bosky dell. 
 
 " "Will they do ? " she asked anxiously. 
 " I mean, do you think I shall be able to 
 sell some of them ? " 
 
 " Most certainly. I suppose you would 
 be vexed if I said I am surprised to find 
 them of such high excellence ? " 
 
 " You thought they would be a school- 
 girl's regulation drawings ? " 
 
 "Well, yes." 
 
 " I am glad you find them better. I — 
 I want to make my father some return for 
 all he has given me. I want to make some
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 259 
 
 use of my education. Do jou understand ? 
 I am afraid things are not very pros- 
 perous with us just now, and — and I 
 should like to help the family exchequer a 
 little if I could." 
 
 " You ought to get a good deal of money 
 for these. Ah, and here are the portraits," 
 and he laughed. " You have not flattered 
 us — no, landscape is evidently your 
 forte," — putting them down, and closing 
 the portfolio. 
 
 Then he looked at the books^ taking some 
 down and reading some passages absently 
 for a minute or two, and she was waiting 
 apprehensive of what was coming. She 
 went to the window ; the shower was over, 
 and the air overpoweringly sweet with 
 dehcious perfumes. 
 
 " Shall we go down ? ' ' she asked, unable 
 to bear the painful suspense. 
 
 " Not yet, I want to speak to you. A 
 s 2
 
 260 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 little wMle ago I offended you, and you 
 rebuked me — indeed, I liave often oflPended 
 you — but let me ask you now, can we part 
 like ordinary acquaintances ? You are too 
 proud to allow it, but, Dorcas, you know I 
 love you, and I think I am loved in return." 
 
 '' I liave given you no cause to think 
 that." 
 
 " Not in words, but in other ways." 
 
 " Why do you dare to speak of love to me, 
 when it is the greatest insult you can offer 
 me ! I have not deserved this from you. 
 What would Miss Fleming think of your 
 treachery? " 
 
 " Do not reproach me. If I had not met 
 you, there would have been no treachery," 
 he said gently. 
 
 She shivered as with sudden cold. 
 
 " Dorcas, Dorcas ! I did not mean to 
 wound you." 
 
 " Why do you speak to me ? why don't
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 261 
 
 you leave me ? You — you are notliing to 
 me. I — I almost think I liate you ! " 
 
 '' That, that is not true," he said, en- 
 deavouring to take her hands. 
 
 " Don't dare to touch me. You are — you 
 are Miss Fleming's affianced husband." 
 
 In avoiding him she knocked a writing- 
 case from the secretaire, and a written 
 paper fluttered to his feet; he picked it 
 up, and was going to restore it to her 
 when the written words in Italian arrested 
 him. 
 
 •' Captain Maynard, do not read it ; give 
 it back to me, I entreat you ! " 
 
 He seemed as if he . had not heard her. 
 As he read those few lines the blood 
 mounted to his brow with the passionate 
 throbbing of his heart, while every pulse 
 beat with rapture. Those two verses were 
 the expression of the despair of a woman's 
 farewell to her lover — to a lover whom she
 
 262 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 was forbidden to love. They were most 
 delicate, most beautiful and impassioned, 
 evidently written at a moment when her 
 heart was almost breaking. 
 
 Dorcas stood watching him as if she 
 were turned to stone. It seemed she 
 must die of shame, her humiliation was so 
 terrible. She had betrayed what every 
 right-minded woman would have hidden. 
 Were the moments hours ? would he never 
 leave her ? She little knew how that un- 
 fortunate confession of hers tempted him, 
 or how the forces of good and evil were 
 contending in his bosom. He knew the 
 peril of the moment. Passion whispered 
 baseness from which he recoiled with terror. 
 Her love, her purity should be her pro- 
 tection. 'Not until he could meet her eyes 
 without ''villaine thoughts" did he turn 
 to her. 
 
 "My darling, I am bound now, but I
 
 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 263 
 
 love you in all honour; wlien I am free, 
 you will be my wife." 
 
 Passion-pale tliey both were when he, 
 looking into the sad shame-stricken eyes, 
 drew her nearer and nearer, until alas ! her 
 lips lost their first sweet purity. Then 
 without a word he left her. She, going into 
 her bedroom, threw herself down on her 
 bed, trembling with gasping sobs, trying to 
 banish the memory of the last half -hour — 
 trying to banish the shame of that passio- 
 nate caress The house was left to take care 
 of itself. Hephzibah returning found the 
 doors all open and no Miss Dorcas visible. 
 
 " Dear, dear, dear ! young folks is allays 
 so. Here's the fire agone right out, and 
 the master and missus awanting their teas 
 afore the kettle ull boil." 
 
 Dorcas still kept in her room, though 
 Hephzibah, tired as she was, came up with 
 a cup of tea and a little bread and butter,
 
 26 ii EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 put with a delicate nicety on a tray, and, 
 knocking gently at the closed door, tried 
 to coax Dorcas, but all in vain. 
 
 In the pastures, whither Hephzibah had 
 sent tea for the rest of the family, every 
 one was working against time and the 
 storm. How poor Dorcas would have 
 enjoyed the pretty sight, and Hked to have 
 been one of the workers, if she had never 
 seen Maynard ! There was the hale, grand 
 old farmer pitching vast masses of hay 
 into the waggon on one side, and Jim on 
 the other; while the waggons were passing 
 and repassing, some empty, some full, the 
 horses urged to greatest speed by the 
 carters as the sky became more and more 
 overcast by lurid clouds. 
 
 Mrs. Finch, with a number of women, was 
 raking after the waggons. Just as dusk 
 was falling, the last load reached the side 
 of the stack ; then the lightning began to
 
 ETCHER THAN WEALTH. 265 
 
 play about, making a grotesque scene of 
 the busy men, wlio, after the last pitch was 
 on the stack, began to pull the great heavy 
 rick-cloth oyer it. No one seemed to mind 
 the heavy drops of rain which fell ; every 
 one was anxious until that splendid rick 
 was safe. Then, and then only, did the 
 thankful but tired master, mistress, and 
 servants return to their homes. 
 
 That night the storm was terrible to 
 Dorcas. The crashing thunder frightened 
 her, the lightning made her hide her 
 face. 
 
 The next morning, Sunday, which was 
 the 1st of July, Dorcas and her father set 
 out to church together. Mrs. Finch only 
 occasionally ''went out" in the morning; 
 she always said she liked to superintend 
 the Sunday's dinner, which was generally 
 an extra good one. There was really no 
 necessity for her presence at home, but it
 
 266 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 had become a habit, and she liked it. Jim 
 followed his mother's example, only he was 
 always snoring in bed, much to his father's 
 disgust. The morning was perfectly 
 lovely after the storm ; quiet and peaceful 
 as a Sunday morning is sometimes in the 
 deep country. 
 
 Mr. Finch, dressed in drab breeches and 
 gaiters, a dark-blue coat and snowy linen, 
 presented a fine picture of an English yeo- 
 man. His daughter with her delicate 
 beauty — alas ! more dehcate than ever now 
 — was in some ways a contrast. Her 
 dress was especially quiet — an inexpensive 
 washing material, made very tastefully, 
 and worn gracefully. 
 
 The farmer, who loved this Sunday 
 morning walk with her, was repeating 
 some stanzas of his favourite " Thomson," 
 appropriate to the season. He was in a 
 particularly happy and thankful frame of
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 267 
 
 mind. By far tlie greater part of liis hay 
 was safe, and Reuben liad removed a con- 
 stant gnawing anxiety. Seldom liad tlie 
 fine old man stepped out so easily, the 
 future looked to him a little brighter. 
 
 Half-way to church they came upon one 
 of the ravages of the terrific storm — a 
 magnificent oak riven in half. Dorcas 
 shuddered. How near death had been 
 to her ! 
 
 As they approached the church, they 
 came upon various friends and acquaint- 
 ances, with whom they exchanged greet- 
 ings. It was not wholly poor Dorcas' 
 guilty conscience that made her think 
 people looked strangely on her, for they 
 really did. And some were not sorry that 
 the girl who had held berself aloof in her 
 superiority should now be a mark for 
 scandal. 
 
 The Hall pew and the Hall Farm pew
 
 268 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 were opposite each other in the chancel. 
 The coming service would be a dreadful 
 ordeal ; not to be able to lift her eyes with- 
 out encountering his or Edith's glauce ! 
 She heard them come in from the door in 
 the opposite chapel, and she felt the blood 
 rushing to her face. The rood-screen hid 
 her from the general congregation, but her 
 blush would be visible to Edith and to 
 him, if he looked at her. 
 
 As the service went on she felt her posi- 
 tion almost intolerable. She began to feel 
 as if every eye were upon her, as if every 
 one knew of that kiss which still burned 
 upon her lips. What would her father say 
 if he knew ? His quiet, reverent responses, 
 his hearty joining in the singing, were all so 
 many stabs to her, because she felt she had 
 deceived him. And occasionally a low rich 
 voice, a lady's, reached her, and then she 
 thought she must weep. Edith occasion-
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 269 
 
 ally looked on the pale bent face with a 
 wonderful compassion and forgiveness. 
 
 The story needed no words ; sad as she 
 wa^, Edith was much happier that day than 
 she had been before. In all that church 
 she, who was the most wronged, was the 
 only woman there who regarded her beau- 
 tiful rival with charity — that charity which 
 thinketh no evil. 
 
 Maynard was in a perfect whirl of 
 thought. Vainly did Mr. Anstey read that 
 sermon, the composing of which had cost 
 him so much trouble. His fine periods 
 were all lost on Maynard, who never heard 
 a word of the whole composition. But 
 the good rector, seeing the future baronet's 
 most decorous and thoughtful demeanour, 
 imagined he was being heard with great 
 appreciation. Very seldom did Maynard 
 trust himself to look on Dorcas. But in 
 that sacred place he vow^ed, again and
 
 270 EICHEE THAN WEALTH. 
 
 again, tliat she should never regret the love 
 she had given him. A thousand new and 
 beautiful interests seemed to spring to life, 
 even amidst all his complications. And 
 so, while the good rector was somewhat 
 pompously preaching his most excellent 
 sermon, a real tragedy was going on very 
 near him. 
 
 As it was the first morning of the month, 
 there was to be a celebration of the Holy 
 Communion after the service. Since her 
 return home, Dorcas had seldom been 
 absent from that holy rite, generally walk- 
 ing with Edith, and kneeling side by side ; 
 but this day, with the remembrance of 
 yesterday strong upon her, she dared not 
 join the few who stayed. Waiting until 
 Maynard and all the congregation were 
 gone, she whispered a few words to her 
 father, and hurried out through the same 
 door by w^hich Edith had entered. When,
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 271 
 
 as she was passing, she did at length raise 
 her eyes to the Hall pew, she saw the 
 picture of a woman kneeling with her face 
 pressed against her hands, and then when 
 she closed the door after her she felt as if 
 she had shut herself out from God. 
 
 Captain Maynard found a telegram 
 awaiting him at the Hall. His uncle. Sir 
 William, had had a paralytic seizure, and 
 the housekeeper had telegraphed for his 
 nephew to come at once. Then he must 
 leave without a word further to either 
 woman. For Edith he left the followino- 
 
 o 
 
 note : — 
 
 '' Dear Edith, you will see by the en- 
 closed telegram that I am summoned to 
 Carrington, my poor uncle having had a 
 fit. If possible, I shall return in a few days, 
 as I must have a long talk and explanation 
 with you. What you may think of my 
 conduct towards you makes me shrink from
 
 272 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 meeting you. I was going to tell jon 
 all to-day.— H. J. M." 
 
 Edith, fresh from the second service, read 
 this note calmly with a forgiving smile 
 upon her face. Did he imagine she had 
 been blind all these weeks? she wondered. 
 Then she thanked God that the first great 
 bitterness was past, and though she must 
 suffer yet awhile, still she was spared the 
 terrible humiliation of his knowing how 
 much, and how hopelessly, she had loved 
 him. 
 
 On Tuesday morning Dorcas received a 
 letter. Now though she had a good many 
 acquaintances, still she was not very often 
 troubled with letters. Again "Wallen- 
 stein " was in her hands, and she was 
 reading it with a half-hearted listless 
 interest, when Hephzibah brought her the 
 letter. 
 
 Poor Hephzy was not much of a
 
 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 273 
 
 scholar, but she knew Miss Dorcas had 
 never received a letter before like that 
 which she held in her hand. The 
 large bold writing was not a woman's. 
 Dorcas took it, turning pale, though she 
 was pale enough before ; and honest 
 Hephzibah went silently and sorrowfully 
 away. With trembling hands Dorcas 
 opened the envelope. There were only a 
 few words. " Monday, July 2nd. — I shall 
 be down at the great ash by the river to- 
 morrow evening at nine. I implore you to 
 meet me there. — H. J. M." 
 
 She never remembered how she got 
 through that dreadful day, or how she 
 managed to keep the tears back when her 
 father remarked on her pallor at dinner, and 
 said he feared she was not well, and pro- 
 mised, in his kind way, that she should go 
 to the sea by-and-by. The heavy hours 
 seemed interminable. As to the right 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 RICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 or wrong of the question of her meeting 
 him, she would not — dared not think ; she 
 only knew that to meet him would be 
 the extreme both of pain and happi- 
 ness. 
 
 At one time she had liked to see the 
 reflection of herself in the glass, feeling with 
 a certain rejoicing of heart that she was at 
 any rate fair and harmonious from nature's 
 hand ; but lately she had been almost afraid 
 to meet her own eyes, they seemed so full 
 of reproach. 
 
 The supper-hour was early when there 
 was nothing to disturb the usual arrange- 
 ments at the farm ; and this night the old 
 yeoman had left the hall-table, and had 
 adjourned to the porch, with his pipe and 
 his tankard, while his wife was reading 
 one of the local papers to him. Eight 
 o'clock had struck, and the pleasantest 
 time, except the early morning, of the whole
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 275 
 
 day was approaching, wlien Dorcas, dressed 
 for walking, came into tlie porch. 
 
 " I am going out a little while, mother, 
 it's so warm indoors.'' 
 
 " Ah, 'tis, my dear, but don't you go too 
 far or stay late ; the dews get heavy now, 
 and you're not so very strong, I am think- 
 
 ing." 
 
 So Dorcas, shivering with self-condem- 
 nation, stole away, soon leaving the quiet 
 homestead behind her. Then came a great 
 pasture full of cattle ; though not exactly 
 afraid, she was not comfortable when the 
 whole herd faced round and followed with 
 a steady persistence which was not reassur- 
 ing. She felt a great inclination to run to 
 the next gate ; but that would have been 
 undignified ; besides she had heard that 
 running induced cattle to run too. Thank- 
 ful indeed was she when she closed the gate 
 in the face of her quiet pursuers. Then she 
 t2
 
 276 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 
 
 entered another pasture which had just 
 been cleared from the hay, and which pre- 
 sented the beautifully smooth appearance 
 of a newly-mown field ; here a number of 
 cart-horses were feeding in placid content- 
 ment after the heat and burthen of the day. 
 Presently she was by the river, and felt the 
 sound of the gently-moving water grateful 
 and refreshing in the still, heated air. How 
 she knew each tree, each root, each spot ! 
 And all had a history connected with those 
 happy childish days when she could take 
 off her shoes and stockings and wade in 
 the clear water, or help Jim to capture 
 the sleepy trout. 
 
 She was early, and sat down by a pretty 
 bend of the river before going to the 
 try sting-place. With bitterness of spirit 
 she wished the days were the same, — 
 that she had never known another life; 
 it seemed so full of temptation and dan-
 
 EICHER THAN WEALTH. 277 
 
 ger. In the old days surely there was 
 safety and peace. But now all was changed. 
 The church-clock struck nine, the sound 
 falling softly in the distance. Then she 
 rose, and, with half -reluctant and half-eager 
 steps, sought the great ash further on. 
 
 END OE VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 PKINTKD BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMIISD, 
 
 ST. John's square.
 
 7S'