mmm. 
 
 m 
 
 
frrjs. 
 
 
}' 
 
 v/^ 
 
 
 ^- 
 
 y ^"' 
 
A'-K 
 
 /r, -ff. ^'~JJi - 
 
 '^ 
 
 THE LEADEN CASKET 
 
 VOL, I. 
 
NEW NOVELS AT EVERY LIBRARY. 
 
 MRS. LINTON'S NEW NOVEL. 
 
 THE REBEL OF THE FAMILY. By E. Lynn 
 
 Linton. Three vols, crown 8vo. 
 
 JAMES PAYN'S NEW NOVEL. 
 A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT. By James Payn. With 
 
 Twelve Illustrations by Arthur Hopkins. Three vols, crown 8vo. 
 JULIAN HA WTHORNES NE W NO VEL. 
 
 ELLICE QUENTIN, and other Stories. By Julian 
 Hawthorne. Two vols, crown 8vo. 
 
 MR. FRANCILLONS NEW NOVEL. 
 
 QUEEN COPHETUA. By R. E. Francillon. Three 
 vols, crown 8vo. 
 
 OU IDA'S NEW WORK. 
 A VILLAGE COMMUNE. By Ouida. Two vols. 
 
 crown 8vo. \_Nearly ready. 
 
 Chattj & WiNDUs, Piccadilly, W. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS ALFRED W. HUNT 
 
 author of 
 thornicroft's model' etc. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1880 
 
 [ The right of tramlation ii reserved ] 
 

 •^ 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 
P=3 3 
 K7I3X 
 
 ^^^/ 
 
 THE 
 
 -LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAFTER I. 
 
 — but tliis is fixt 
 As are the roots of earth and base of all. 
 Man for the field, and woman for the hearth ; 
 Cv. Man for the sword, and for the needle she : 
 
 Man with the head, and woman with the heart : 
 Man to command, and woman to obey ; 
 ^* All else confusion. — Tej^^i^yson. 
 
 •*? 
 
 Dr. Eichard Calyerley Brooke, of 350, 
 
 J Harley Street, was driving home one fine May 
 
 \ evening, andliad all but reached his destination, 
 
 ^ when he received a considerable mental shock. 
 
 ^ He had been running his daily stage of duty 
 
 since seven o'clock that morning, and now, 
 
 worn out by this long strain on his clinical 
 
 isagacity, was lying back in his brougham, when 
 
 it stopped abruptly, checked by a little crowd 
 
 collected outside his own door. Perceiving 
 
 ^-^ VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 where lie was, lie got out of Ms carriage with 
 medical celerity, rapped vigorously at the 
 knocker, and then, to beguile the time, turned 
 to see what was going on in the street. His 
 vantage-ground of fiYe or six steps of elevation 
 above the roadway enabled him to see an 
 Italian organ-grinder, who was at one moment 
 gesticulating wildly, and calling upon heaven, 
 earth, and all around to witness that he had a 
 right either to make music, or be paid to leave 
 off ; the next, playing a few frantic snatches of 
 the street melody of the day ; then stopping to 
 gesticulate once more, and again dashing at the 
 implement of music and whirling round the 
 handle to prove that he meant to maintain his 
 rights. But with whom was he chsputing? — 
 for all the dingy little knot of bystanders looked 
 either stolidly indifferent, or merrily amused. 
 Whilst Dr. Brooke was asking himself this, and 
 watching the angry Italian, the dense crowd 
 broke asunder, and then the second party in 
 the dispute was made visible. This was an 
 energetic, bright^eyed, and handsome little girl 
 of eight ; but that was not all, for she was Dr. 
 Eichard Brooke's own niece. He, after his 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 3 
 
 hard day's work, was coming home to rest and 
 quiet, and the steady pursuit of respectabihty of 
 appearance in his dismal brick house in this 
 cynosure of medical eyes, Harley Street, and he 
 was met by such a spectacle as this ! He had 
 only a few years ago gained the footing which 
 he was now striving hard to keep — for who 
 respects his doctor if he does not live in a good 
 neighbourhood, pay one gentleman to open his 
 door and another to drive that sine qua non^ his 
 trim little brougham? — and all these things 
 were difficult enough to keep, and the subtle 
 aroma of respectability was ready enough to fly 
 away from him, without the assistance of friends 
 from within. Here was his own niece, who 
 was to him as his own daughter, alone in the 
 open street, standing amongst these ragamuffins, 
 bareheaded, her hair thrown back in her excite- 
 ment, and engaged in a warm contest with an 
 organ-grinder ! The child, finding that she 
 was no longer penned in by the crowd, dashed 
 up the steps to her uncle, who hastily glanced 
 round at the windows near to see if the mag- 
 nates of the street had witnessed this escapade, 
 and then huddled her into the house as quickly 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 as he could the very moment that the door was 
 opened. ' OHve, you naughty child ! ' cried he, 
 ' what is the meaning of this ? ' And as the 
 child did not speak quickly enough, he turned 
 to the man-servant and said, ' And you John, I 
 wonder you allow such things to be done ; and 
 your nurse, Olive, where is she ? ' 
 
 Olive looked too much afraid to answer. 
 John spoke instead : ' I was out on an errand, 
 sir, but I have not been away five minutes ; and 
 nurse, sir, has gone to the London Library for 
 Mrs. Brooke, sir, for some books of re-ferrence.' 
 
 ' But Olive,' said Dr. Brooke, turning im- 
 patiently from his man, ' I think you yourself, 
 even if alone, might know better than to mis- 
 conduct yourself so. What can have made 
 you do such a thing ? ' 
 
 Olive, who was always a little beauty, but 
 prettier than ever now, with her flashing eyes 
 and bright colour, hung her head a moment, 
 then, seeing her uncle throw himself down in a 
 chair as if quite tired out with fatigue and 
 mortification, she crept up to his side, laid her 
 head on his shoulder, and said, ' I will tell you 
 all about it, uncle ; but please don't be angry 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 6 
 
 with me. I will never do it any more, so you 
 know you need not be angry unless you like.' 
 
 She quite understood the nature of a perfect 
 pardon, and her uncle saw that she did so, and 
 said, ' Well, I won't be angry. I see that you 
 will never do this again.' 
 
 ' Never. But was I really so very naughty 
 this time ? Nurse was out, so I was with aunt 
 upstairs, and she was writing, and thinking, and 
 working so hard, and just then all at once that 
 great nasty organ came and began to make its 
 music, and Aunt Selina got cross with it, and at 
 last she could not write at all. She tried ever 
 so hard to go on, but it was of no use ; she 
 could not get a single thought up. So she 
 threw down her pen and told me to go and 
 order some one to send that horrid machine 
 away, and to tell the man that if he did not 
 move on quickly he should go to prison for a 
 whole fortnight. But nurse was out, and 
 Betsey was getting baby to sleep and scolded 
 me for going near her, and John was out, 
 and cook said she was not fit to go to the front 
 door, and I couldn't find out where Agnes was, 
 and I knew poor aunt was getting worse and 
 
6 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 worse all the time ; so I just ran to the door 
 myself, and opened it and peeped out, and 
 there was no one outside then but the organ- 
 man, and he did not look very cross ; so I went 
 to him, and told him quite quietly that I liked 
 his music myself, but that my aunt did not, and 
 so he must be so good as to go away at once, 
 for as long as he was there I was quite sure she 
 could not get one good thought up. I did not 
 say one word about putting him in prison — 
 that might have been enough to vex him — 
 but I never said it. ISFow, was I really 
 naughty ? ' 
 
 Dr. Brooke kissed the anxious face which 
 was now pressed so very near to his, and said, 
 ' You should not have gone out, Olive ; but 
 you promise me never to do it again. What 
 did he say ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he got cross and noisy, and jumped 
 about again, and I tried to explain that he 
 could go somewhere else and play to persons 
 who liked his kind of music ; and then all at 
 once I found I was shut in by a crowd of rude 
 strangers, who would not let me get out, and 
 kept saying, "Go it, little un ! Go it ! " and 
 then you came.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 7 
 
 ' By-the-bye, Olive, how was it that I found 
 the house -door shut ? ' 
 
 ' I shut it after me by mistake,' replied the 
 child ; ' and if you had not come, I should never 
 have got back until John, or some one belong- 
 ing to the house, missed me and came, for I 
 am not big enough to reach up to ring the 
 bell.' 
 
 ' Poor little darling ! ' he said, taking her in 
 his arms. ' You are a good little girl, after all. 
 Tell me what you have been doing all day.' 
 
 ' I did some lessons in the mornins^ with 
 Miss Dawson, and then ' 
 
 ' Did you do them well ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, she said so — all but the sums, but I 
 can't do sums well, they seem as if they cracked 
 me all over somehow ! Let me give them up. 
 Only, then I shall have no lessons. I don't call 
 the others lessons — I hke them. After Miss 
 Dawson went away, nurse and I and Alick and 
 Lucy, we went out, but not for a real walk, 
 you know, for nurse went to pay the books and 
 buy things, and we never seemed to get out of 
 shops of some kind or other all the time we 
 were out, and then I had my dhmer, and after 
 
^ THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 that a good read, and then this bad thing hap- 
 pened.' 
 
 ' Never mind, Ohve, I forgive you,' said Dr. 
 Brooke, who could not bear to see her dis- 
 tressed face. ' What did you read ? ' 
 
 'I finished "The Mysteries of Udolpho." 
 It is rather a ghosty, frightening book, isn't it, 
 uncle ? Now I want you to advise me whether 
 I had better read " St. Clair of the Isles," 
 " Fatherless Fanny," or " Humphrey Clinker." 
 They all sound nice ! ' 
 
 'Good Heavens, child! What can your 
 aunt be about ? ' 
 
 ' You may always guess that,' replied Olive, 
 mistaking him. 'She is writing — that's what 
 auntie is always doing.' 
 
 ' And leaving house and children to go to 
 ruin,' thought Dr. Brooke, while he put Olive 
 down and went to his wife's room upstairs. 
 
 It was a comfortable study, reclaimed from 
 the bedroom department of the house, with a 
 large writing-table in the middle of it, covered 
 with masses of blue scribbling- paper, sheaves of 
 pens, piles of manuscript. In a comfortable 
 chair by this table sat Mrs. Brooke with hair 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 9 
 
 pushed back and pale face, looking, in fact, as 
 people are apt to look after a hard day of 
 writing. She had evidently been at it ever 
 since breakfast, and she had not yet changed 
 her morning dress, though dinner was nominally 
 due in ten minutes. She was a handsome 
 woman of thirty-eight or so, with a fine well- 
 formed face whose only fault was the important 
 part the forehead played in it. It was promi- 
 nent and large, and all the hair was drawn off 
 it, and Mrs. Brooke thought its size betokened 
 intellect of a gigantic order, though her hus- 
 band threw the whole weight of liis professional 
 experience into the maintenance of the opinion 
 that the height of a forehead was no index to 
 the amount of brains of its possessor. Mrs. 
 Brooke was writing busily when he entered, 
 and only said, ' Well, dear Pdchard, it is you, 
 is it? If you have anything to say, I will 
 speak to you in five minutes.' 
 
 * I want to talk now, Selina ' 
 
 ' Not now — just wait one moment, or you will 
 spoil one of my heroine's best speeches. I'll 
 tell you about it. You remember the story ? 
 Well, her aunt, Mrs. JSTettleship, has just heard 
 
10 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 that Mr. Clement Disney — jow remember that 
 he is my hero, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Tut, tut, tut, Sehna, do let them all rest 
 for one moment,' said Dr. Brooke; 'I must 
 have a few words with jou ' 
 
 ' Can you not wait five minutes, or till the 
 evening? that's better — I never write in the 
 evening ' 
 
 ' No, it must be now ! I ' 
 
 ' That is always the way ! ' murmured Mrs. 
 Brooke; 'and then people wonder how it is 
 that, whilst women claim to be the equals of 
 men, they have never produced any geniuses of 
 the first rank, just as if women ever had any 
 chance of doing really good work ! How can 
 they produce good work ? From early morn- 
 ing until late evening they have to give their 
 minds to household matters of the most trivial 
 and wearisome kind! No man would stand 
 such a life for a day; but women have to 
 endure it, and then, just as by- hard thought 
 and clever contrivance they have conquered 
 one little half-hour for themselves and their 
 work, and are sitting down to it quite delighted, 
 in comes some servant with, " Oh, if you please, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. ll" 
 
 mum, could I speak to you for one moment ? '* 
 or, worse still, their own husbands demand five 
 minutes' conversation ! And I know, Eichard 
 — I am sure, it is something disagreeable that 
 you want to talk about, and that ruins one's 
 best thoughts so.' 
 
 ' My dear love,' said Dr. Brooke, ' I could 
 have said all I had to say in less time than you 
 have taken over that long speech ! ' 
 
 ' I never was difilise, dear ! You know 
 that ]\ir. Chatterley's reader, when he returned 
 my last novel to me, said that, though it was not 
 quite what they liked to publish, still, the style 
 was remarkably clear and pointed ; and the 
 reader for " Temple Bar " said the same thing.' 
 
 ' I wish to Heaven,' cried Dr. Brooke, ' you 
 would give up all this writing and go about 
 your housekeeping as other people do.' 
 
 ' As other people do ! Now, Eichard, isn't 
 that just the least bit hard? If I were hke 
 other people, you might say that. But I did 
 hope that you thought I was a little different — 
 that I might do some good work some day.' 
 
 ' Good work ! Selina, you will drive me 
 wild. Surely you must see that your work 
 
12 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ought to be keeping your house in order and 
 looking after your children ? ' 
 
 ' I do my very best with both house and 
 children, not because such work is congenial to 
 me, but because it is my duty ; but when all is 
 well set a-going, Eichard, surely I may have the 
 time to myself which other women spend in 
 visiting ? ' 
 
 There was some force in that argument, but 
 then there must be some deficiency in Mrs. 
 Brooke's power of setting things well a-going. 
 
 ' You should not send your nurses on errands 
 when they ought to be attending to the children. 
 They ought all to have been in the park this 
 lovely afternoon — no wonder they look pale.' 
 
 ' So they ought,' replied Mrs. Brooke ; ' I 
 must speak about that. It is not my fault that 
 they were not, for they have my distinct orders 
 to go out every afternoon when it is not raining ; 
 and if Pritchard was out doing an errand for me, 
 Betsey was in, and she ought to have taken 
 them ' 
 
 ' But you ought to go to your nursery and 
 see for yourself that your servants obey you. 
 You ought to ' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 13 
 
 ' Now, dear Eichard, you are talking just 
 like a man ! What comfort would you have if 
 I was always running here and there to see if 
 this or that servant was doing her duty ? Do 
 they any of them do their duty ? Is it likely 
 they should ? But they do something towards 
 it sometimes, if you only let them alone ! 
 They will not stand being looked after ; they 
 would all go away in a moment if I followed 
 them about, as you seem to wish me to do. 
 Mothers who are constantly in the nursery 
 are always losing their nurses ' 
 
 ' But they generally keep their children,' 
 said Dr. Brooke drily ; ' and your first duty is 
 to look after them.' 
 
 ' Eichard, I do look after them.' 
 
 'I found Olive alone in the street to-day 
 wrangling with an organ-grinder ! Do you call 
 that looking after your children ? Olive while 
 with us is just as much our child as the rest of 
 them. Is that respectable? I have a very hard 
 up-hill fight, and am likely to have it, too, for 
 some time to come ; but I do my work as well 
 as I can, and I think you ought to do yours.' 
 
 ' Now, Eichard,' said Mrs. Brooke, at last 
 
14 . THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 laying down her pen, and looking at him as if 
 touched to the heart, ' for once, dear, you are 
 unjust. You could not have said a more un- 
 kind thing to me than that, for you must know 
 that the only thing which keeps me slaving and 
 toiling day after day at my writing in this way, 
 is that I have such a strong wish to help you. 
 I don't do it a bit out of vanity, or desire to 
 shine ; it is all for you. I know that you have 
 a hard struggle, but if I could earn six or seven 
 hundred a year — and most novel-writers who 
 get on, earn far more than that — well, then, 
 that would surely be helping you in the very 
 best way I could.' 
 
 ' If I might only choose what kind of help 
 I should best like, it would be — well, looking 
 after your house. Of course, dear,' he con- 
 tinued, for he was wretchedly uncomfortable at 
 the very thought of giving her pain, ' it is verj^ 
 good and kind of you to try to help me, 
 but ' 
 
 ' Don't say but ; be patient with me for a 
 while. Mr. Chatterley would have taken my 
 last novel, I know, and have given me some- 
 thing for it too, if only that horrible war had 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 15 
 
 not been going on. He said lie could not 
 publish anything that was not about the war, 
 that nobody would read anything else; and 
 somehow or other that is always the way with 
 my MSS. He always seems to like them, but 
 there is always something or other going on 
 w^hich prevents his venturing to publish what I 
 send him. You see, imaginary convulsions of 
 society — which are the things I attempt to 
 depict — strike people as very tame in the midst 
 of great national upheavals : — such as this war 
 which is going on now,' she added, for her 
 husband was silent in wonder at her blindness 
 as to the true nature of Mr. Chatterley's polite 
 excuses. ' But I am all right now : this 
 present novel will be ready to print by the 
 time the war is over, and I am getting on so 
 well with it ! Sit down, Eichard dear, and let 
 me read you a capital bit I wrote this morning, 
 it is not long.' 
 
 ' May I ask if we are going to have any 
 dinner to-day, Selina? It is twenty minutes 
 past ' 
 
 ' That is the worst of men,' said Mrs. 
 Brooke meditatively ; ' you can never take 
 
16 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 them quite out of themselves. I don't believe 
 there is a man in all England capable of forget- 
 ting his dinner hour, or that he has a stomach, 
 let one read what one will to him ! ' 
 
 ' By George, no ! I should think not,' said 
 her husband heartily. 
 
 ' I know,' said Mrs. Brooke mournfully, ' I 
 know ; but never mind, dear ; it does not stop 
 my loving you.' 
 
 ' Well, I am going to my dinner,' said Dr. 
 Brooke, for he saw that he had no chance of 
 getting any talk with his wife while all her MSS. 
 were lying about. 
 
 After dinner was over. Dr. Brooke ap- 
 proached the subject next his heart, and said in 
 the most direct manner, ' I wish to inform you, 
 Selina, that when I came home to dinner to-day, 
 your niece Olive, whom I look on as my own 
 child, was in the street battling with a disreput- 
 able Itahan organ-grinder.' He purposely ex- 
 aggerated shghtly for the sake of inducing his 
 wife to lend her ears. 
 
 * How odd of you to say, " whom I look on 
 as my daughter" ! Don't I look on her as my 
 daughter too ? And could anyone be more 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 17 
 
 anxious than I am to bring up that child well ? 
 I am far more careful about the management of 
 Olive than I should be if she were really my 
 own. You see, I know so well what stupid, 
 silly, fidgety people her poor dear father and 
 mother are ; — so particular about trifles and 
 appearances and that kind of nonsense ! And 
 she was out in the street, you say ? Well, all 
 I can say is, that she was a very naughty girl.' 
 
 ' And all the windows were crowded with 
 people looking on at the Brooke family disgrac- 
 ing themselves, and thinking we must be the 
 queerest people in London ! Why, I would 
 not have had such a thing happen on any 
 account ! It is enough to ruin my practice ! ' 
 
 ' Perhaps she had better go to school,' said 
 Mrs. Brooke thoughtfully. 
 
 ' You know my opinion of schools,' growled 
 the doctor. 
 
 ' Well, could she not go out in the carriage 
 with you sometimes ? ' asked the lady ; ' that 
 would do her good and keep her quiet.' 
 
 ' Do you remember my taking her out once, 
 and she wetted httle bits of paper, and stuck 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
18 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 them all over tlie carriage windows while I was 
 with a patient ? ' 
 
 ' I can't think what makes her so different 
 from other children,' murmured Mrs. Brooke. 
 
 ' Most people would say that it was because 
 she has no one to look after her.' 
 
 ' Eeally, Eichard, how you talk ! It is not 
 my fault that her parents live in India : I do 
 my very best to supply their place. Did I not 
 bring her here into my room to-day — -just when 
 I was writing a critical bit too ? And I let her 
 sit reading in a corner by the window for a couple 
 of hours, until that unfortunate organ came.' 
 
 ' Eeadmg ! What was she reading ? ' cried 
 Dr. Brooke, who remembered another griev- 
 ance. 
 
 ' Well, dear, I hardly know ; she was quiet, 
 and that is the main thing ; and as for books, 
 she likes best to choose them for herself 
 
 ' And she chose " The Mysteries of 
 TJdolpho " and " Humphrey Clinker " ! ' 
 
 ' Dear me ! poor child, did she ? If she 
 could only read writing quickly, I am sure she 
 should read my manuscript.' 
 
 ' Selina, my dear, you are a fool ! You 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 19 
 
 really are, to talk in that way ; and unless you 
 mean to change very much, and devote yourself 
 henceforth to the children, I must at any rate 
 take Olive from you. I can't help your ruin- 
 ing your own children, but I cannot let you 
 ruin Chesterfield's.' 
 
 ' Where would you send her ? ' inquired 
 Mrs. Brooke very calmly ; she knew that her 
 intellect was quite above suspicion, and was 
 therefore not in the least offended by her 
 husband calling her a fool. 
 
 'To my mother and sister. I have no 
 doubt they w^ould take her ; but if you have 
 the heart of a woman, you won't let her go.' 
 
 ' I do love the child, I love her dearly, and 
 should hate to part with her.' 
 
 'Keep her at home, then, and look after 
 her.' 
 
 ' But one has to make great sacrifices for 
 art.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke's lip curled a little. 
 
 ' Well, give me a little time to think it over,' 
 said Mrs. Brooke, and a silence of about an 
 hour ensued. Then she said, ' If you think the 
 dear child would be happy at Austerfield with 
 
20 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 your motlier and sister, she had better go — not 
 for long, of course, but for six months or so, 
 until I get this novel, which I am busy with, 
 out of my hands — for really, Eichard, I should 
 not be happy if I gave it up. You see, I have 
 been buoying myself up so with the idea oi 
 coming to your room some morning and hand- 
 ing you a cheque for a thousand pounds all 
 earned by my own work. Oh ! I should be so 
 proud that day ; and you know yourself that 
 many a woman earns quite as much as that just 
 by one book, so why should not I ? ' 
 
 'Do as you think best,' said Dr. Brooke 
 rather roughly, for he did not at all want to 
 lose sight of the child. ' You shall have your 
 own way, but it seems to me that you are 
 turning your back upon a plain duty and pur- 
 suing a shadow.' 
 
 ' I wonder whether he would change his 
 opinion at all if I quoted Plato, and he found 
 he was on my side,' thought Mrs. Brooke, who 
 for the last minute had been repeating to her- 
 self a bit from Lysis which seemed to suit the 
 situation : — ' The education of children of great 
 men is often neglected ; indeed, if people are to 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 21 
 
 be great, they can only attend to their own 
 development.' 
 
 Judging by Dr. Brooke's next speech, he 
 would perhaps hardly have included his wife 
 under the category of great, for he began to 
 make an apparently irrelevant inquiry as to the 
 price that could be got at the paper works for a 
 ton of old writing-paper. 
 
 After a while Mrs. Brooke persuaded her 
 husband to listen to a long chapter fresh from 
 her pen that very day. It was part^of a tissue of 
 troubles, each and all of which would have faded 
 away if any of the actors in the story could 
 have brought themselves to speak two words of 
 common sense — onl}^, if they had done so, what 
 would have become of the poor lady's plot? 
 Dr. Brooke did not want her to write novels, 
 so he listened in patient w^eariness. Great was 
 his weariness, but great also were the recupera- 
 tive efforts of nature in his favour : very soon he 
 was fast asleep. His escape into dreamland was 
 never discovered, for just as Mrs. Brooke was 
 about to look up to see whether her husband's 
 face was illumined with interest they were both 
 alarmed by a succession of agonized shrieks 
 
22 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 from tlie niglit nursery. They ran up in all 
 haste, and there they found Olive, who, 
 having used all the time which they had spent 
 in dining, in reading ' Melmoth the Wanderer ' 
 by the light of the drawing-room fire, had 
 worked herself up into such a state of excite- 
 ment and terror that she refused to be left alone 
 even for a moment. 
 
 ' This decides me,' said Dr. Brooke, after 
 they had succeeded in pacifying her ; ' that 
 child shall go to Austerfield by the first train 
 on Monday morning. I'll take her there my- 
 self. After all, my own children, poor things, 
 won't take much harm if they are neglected a 
 little longer, but Olive is just at the very age to 
 be ruined for life.' 
 
 And here we may as well inform the reader 
 that Olive was the eldest child of Sir Chester- 
 field Brooke, a distinguished Indian officer, who 
 was now at his post as governor of a frontier 
 province, and continually occupied in repelling 
 petty insurrections and incursions. Olive had 
 never been in India, and could not remember 
 ever having seen her father. She had been left 
 in England as too delicate for the journey, and, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 23 
 
 having thus missed the chance of spending the 
 early years of her life in that country, \Tas now 
 condemned to wait for a sight of her father and 
 mother until she grew old enough to bear the 
 Indian climate, or Sir Chesterfield resigned his 
 appointment and came home. 
 
 To Olive these Indian parents were vague 
 abstractions. The father and mother she knew 
 and loved Hved in Harley Street, and though 
 she counted off on her fingers the names of 
 ' sisters Amabel, Evelyn, Josephine, and Joanna, 
 who hve thousands and thousands of miles 
 away from me,' the mention of their names and 
 of the miles which parted her from them only 
 made her open wide her eyes — not her heart — 
 that was given to the unruly Alick and to the 
 Lucy and baby who were always crying in 
 Harley Street. 
 
Si THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Nor did he g-ive tliem teachers, but they were allowed to 
 wander at their own free will in a sort of hope that they would 
 light on virtue of their own accord. — Peotagoeis. 
 
 When Monday came, Dr. Brooke found that it 
 was quite impossible for him to leave town, so 
 little Ohve was sent down to Austerfield with a 
 servant, and he was obliged to content himself 
 with embodying in a long letter all the pro- 
 hibitions and ordinances which he had devised 
 for the child's governance. This letter was ad- 
 dressed to his elder sister, Miss Lettice Brooke, 
 who lived with her infirm father and mother in 
 this far-away Yorkshire village, and was the 
 person most likely to have the management of 
 his little niece. He wished Olive to learn a 
 few simple lessons, to read a few childish books 
 — which, from his recollection of the book- 
 shelves of his youth, he had no difficulty in 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 25 
 
 specifying, — and to run about the Grange 
 gardens and fields in happy healthful freedom. 
 All the novel-reading which had been so 
 hurtful was henceforth to be rigorously denied 
 her. Xo late hours were to be permitted, her 
 life was to be entirely simple, her mind was to 
 be stimulated only as a child's mind should be, 
 by Nature's daily show of wonders ; and if 
 hereafter she never did anj'thing beyond trying 
 to understand these, and in some degree suc- 
 ceeded. Dr. Brooke asked for no other learning 
 for her and believed that her own father also 
 would feel that she had enough. He did not 
 hesitate to confide to his sister his reasons for 
 removing Olive from her aunt's care, and as 
 he knew Miss Lettice's easy-going indulgent 
 character, he made a great point of telhng her 
 how seriously harmful Olive's course of reading 
 had been both to her mind and body. He 
 declared that he really believed that they 
 should have lost the child, if she had been 
 allowed to go on in the same way much longer, 
 and threw himself on Miss Lettice's mercy, and 
 relied on her love and afiection, and extorted a 
 promise from her besides, to watch over her 
 
26 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 charge most carefully, and see that she read no 
 such books for the future. Miss Lettice replied 
 at once, and even went beyond the doctor in 
 her condemnation of all that he condemned. 
 Her dear brother might rely on her constant 
 watchfulness and care. Novels were most 
 improper and dangerous things for children — 
 indeed, as for that matter, for grown-up people 
 too. There was no one who would not be 
 the better for letting them alone, and her dear 
 brother might trust her to obey him in this as 
 in everything else. 
 
 Dr. Brooke did trust her, and Olive went 
 and arrived at her grandfather's house late in 
 the evening, when the air was golden with 
 sunset. She saw the pretty old Grange which 
 was now to be her home, with eyes full of 
 amazement. It looked strange after the dingy 
 magnificence of London. It was a handsome 
 old house in its way ; and had belonged to the 
 Brooke family for centuries, but it was low 
 and unlike anything she had ever seen before. 
 There were only two tiers of rooms in dl, and 
 the windovfs were rather small and half-hidden 
 by Jargonelle pear-trees ; the purply-grey roof 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 27 
 
 was diversified by splendid patches of yellow 
 stone-crop and house-leek, and here and there 
 a tuft of wall-flowers, or crimson snapdragons. 
 It was a dignified-looking abode, and the rooms 
 were large and picturesque ; but Olive won- 
 dered at its want of height, and felt sure that 
 there was some mistake about it, for the stairs 
 were so short that you were at the top of the 
 house before you seemed to have begun to go 
 up. She was met by a pretty, pleasant old 
 lady who told her that she was her Aunt 
 Lettice, and taken into a room where her 
 grandfather and grandmother were sitting. 
 They looked much older than anyone whom 
 Olive had ever seen before, but the long 
 journey had dulled her powers of astonishment, 
 and she made no opposition to the general 
 dictum that bed was by far the best place for 
 her. She was conducted to the spare room, 
 and, lost in depths of downy feathers, soon 
 folded eyes and limbs to rest. 
 
 When she awoke next morning, the birds 
 were singing in the pear-tree which was trained 
 round her window, the lately formed brownish- 
 red pears looked pertly full of promise; the 
 
28 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 sun was shining on the branching pines which 
 composed the pattern of the chintz of which 
 the hangings of her bed were made — pines on 
 which bkie-grey parroquets were perched at 
 measured intervals, some in grave, ruminating 
 discontent, some with inquisitive necks stretched 
 to watch other birds like themselves fluttering 
 down to settle on the branch by their side. 
 Such movement was there amongst these — such 
 life, such expectation, and all for an object 
 which to the end of time would be unattain- 
 able ! ' Stupid birds ! ' thought Olive in her 
 own childish language, ' how I wish you would 
 get flown! Making such a fuss, and never 
 getting one bit nearer the place you want to go 
 to ! I don't hke you, I like the quiet settled 
 ones best.' And then she remembered that 
 restful and restless birds had ahke been fixed 
 and woven into the web where their part was 
 to be played, and began to wonder if she, too, 
 were so made that she could but do her work 
 in life according to the instincts with which she 
 had been born, and use the measure of power 
 which had from the beginning been meted out 
 to her. They called her naughty at home in 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 29 
 
 Harley Street, and little Alick her cousin, good, 
 because she sometimes got out of bed and stole 
 to an upstairs window to see tlie sun rise, and 
 caught cold, while Ahck refused to go when 
 she summoned him, and quietly stayed in bed. 
 
 ' But,' thought she, ' I want to see sunrises so 
 much that when the sky looks pink I seem as 
 if I must go where I can see more of it, and 
 Alick is different ; he cares nothing about 
 them.' 
 
 Olive's attempts to do her part towards 
 solving the problems of ' fixed fate, free will, 
 foreknowledge absolute,' might have ended in 
 giving her a bad headache if she had not sud- 
 denly caught sight of a large glass- doored book- 
 case which nearly filled the entire side of the 
 room. Large as it was, it was crowded from 
 base to summit with books. Joy filled her 
 heart, and she was out of bed in a moment to 
 read their names. Their names ! It was a 
 novel-reader's paradise ! There was scarcely a 
 single book in the whole collection which she 
 did not long to devour. Their mere titles were 
 a feast in themselves : ' Coelebs in Search of a 
 Wife ; ' ' The Eomance of the Forest ; ' ' Man- 
 
30 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 frone, the One-handed Monk' (these, alas! on 
 a very high shelf) ; ' The Pirate ; ' ' Zeleuco ; ' 
 ' The Eed Eover,' and ' The Water Witch.' 
 Swift as thought, she got a chair, opened the 
 glass door, took out an old calf-bound volume 
 with an attractive name, and began to enjoy 
 the pictures in it. One represented an af- 
 frighted maiden overhearing a villain of most 
 repulsive appearance make a confession of some 
 past act of wickedness to an equally unpleasant- 
 looking companion. The eyes of the latter 
 were starting from his head at the magnitude 
 of the crime which had just been revealed to 
 him. Thus ran the fragment of the novel which 
 had been extracted to explain the illustration : 
 'Ela listened and heard the monk exclaim, 
 " Thou indeed didst steal the son, but this, this 
 is the daring hand wdiich administered the fatal 
 draught to the father." ' ' Ah ! ' sighed Ohve, 
 but her sigh was but a long-drawn-out expres- 
 sion of content — a feeding by anticipation on 
 the sweets of that volume. Her next impulse 
 was to begin at once to read, but even at the 
 tender age of eight and a half, the little maiden 
 had attained to the degree of experience which 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 81 
 
 prompted the exclamation, ' If they have got 
 so far as to tell that, this must be the third 
 volume.' So she began to look for the first. 
 
 Suddenly she felt an arm put round her and 
 a kiss on her cheek, and heard a kind voice 
 say, ' But, Olive, you ought not to be standing 
 about in your night-dress ; and none of these 
 are suitable books for you.' 
 
 ' Aren't they. Aunt Lettice ? ' said Olive, 
 with a face full of distress. ' Oh, dear ! What 
 a pity ! ' 
 
 When Miss Lettice saw the change which 
 had come over the child's face, her soft heart 
 was touched in a moment. ' Well,' said she, 
 ' perhaps I might find one or two amongst 
 them which you may read. Don't be so 
 anxious, dear child ; I'll look and tell you. 
 Did your uncle say anything to you about what 
 books you were to read ? ' 
 
 ' He said I was not to read anything with- 
 out asking your permission, and, Aunt Lettice, I 
 am very sorry, but I am afraid I forgot. I was 
 just going to read this when you came in ' 
 
 ' But you will keep your promise, Olive ? ' 
 inquired Miss Lettice appealingly. 
 
32 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Of course I will. Even if I hadn't made 
 a promise, I wouldn't do anything to vex uncle 
 if I could help it — no, not for the world ! ' 
 And Olive stoutly replaced the book which had 
 tempted her so much. Still, she could not take 
 her eyes off it. Suddenly she cried eagerly, 
 ' But, Aunt Lettice, you will tell me, won't you, 
 what other things Ela heard those two men say 
 to each other while she was listening, and what 
 she did about it when she got away ? It is not 
 very safe for her to be so near them as she is. 
 I should not like it. I suppose she is not 
 afraid, and that that is what makes her fit to 
 be a heroine.' And Olive sighed over her own 
 shortcomings. 
 
 ' It is all a pack of hes ! ' cried Miss Lettice 
 with great decision. ' Olive, I could not tell 
 you the story of that book if I tried for ever. 
 I would if I could, but I always forget what I 
 read, an hour after I have shut the book.' 
 This was an assertion which Miss Lettice was 
 in the habit of making. It served her as an 
 excuse for never opening any book which was 
 not a novel. * It was so disrespectful,' she said, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 33 
 
 'to forget a good book so quickly, that she 
 really did not like to begin to read one.' 
 
 ' Have you quite forgotten everything about 
 it?' inquired Olive. 'Is there nothing you can 
 remember to tell me ? ' 
 
 ']^ot one word. I am very sorry, little 
 Ohve, but the whole thing has gone out of my 
 mind as completely as if it had never been in 
 it. Perhaps,' added she, seeing the child's 
 disconsolate face, ' perhaps I should not be 
 doing so very wrong to let you read this one 
 book — just this one. It is very short, and has 
 pictures, and it is my fault for forgetting the 
 story. I should have told it to you if I could 
 have remembered it, and there is not much 
 difference between telhng it to you and letting 
 you read it yourself ; so I think you may as well 
 keep it out. But mind,' she continued, half 
 repenting this concession, ' you must not tease 
 me to let you read one of the other books, for I 
 have given a promise to your uncle, and, you 
 see, a promise is such a very sacred thing.' 
 
 ' I had better not read this, perhaps,' said 
 Olive, hesitatingly. 
 
 ' Oh yes, you may read that. I have told 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 you yoLi may, and it was to be as I thought 
 best : but no more — not one more. You will 
 find me very strict about these things, Olive. 
 I told your uncle I should be so.' 
 
 ' Oh,' cried OHve in some triumph, ' but I 
 have read ever so many of the books in this 
 book-case already ! I have read " The Mys- 
 teries of Udolpho," on this first shelf; and 
 " The Children of the Abbey," and " St. Clair 
 of the Isles," and " The Cottage on the CKff," 
 on the one above ; and " Melmoth," and 
 " Tremaine," and " The Castle of Otranto," and 
 I dare say ever so many more.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! Well, I should not have 
 advised your being allowed to read those books 
 — I certainly should not ; but if you have 
 read them once you may read them again, for 
 no doubt you have got all the harm out of 
 them you can get ; so when you want a book, 
 Olive, you may just take one of those which 
 you have read already. But no new ones, 
 mind you, not one ! You are not to ask me. 
 And, oh dear, if you are not standing all this 
 time with your poor bare little feet, and nothing 
 on but your nightdress, and that is a thing I 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 85 
 
 am so very particular about ! Jump down, and 
 I'll send Hannah at once. She will help you to 
 dress, and then come quickly down. There is 
 some nice new milk, warm from the cow, wait- 
 ing for you.' 
 
 ' I wonder what that is,' was Olive's thought, 
 but she was ashamed to show her ignorance by 
 asking. 
 
 'You may run about as you hke,' said 
 Aunt Lettice after breakfast, ' but your uncle 
 does not wish you to be allowed to play 
 with the village children ; if you see any of 
 them about, take no notice of them. You 
 won't see them unless you go to some of the 
 gates.' 
 
 Olive, however, wanted no playfellows this 
 first day. She had kingdoms, empires, new 
 worlds to discover and explore, and hour after 
 hour passed in entrancing bewilderment. She 
 did not give much thought to the human occu- 
 pants of the Grange and its gardens. She 
 roamed here and there, and at first it was 
 pleasure enough to pry into the recesses ot 
 folded leaves or cup-like flowers where the sun 
 had not yet pierced its way, and to force the 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 lurking dew-drops to run to seek their fellows ; 
 and merrily she lauglied when, after a little 
 helpless tumbling about on leaf, or petal, two 
 drops as round as the O of Giotto bumped 
 against each other, and slowly and heavily 
 rolled into one. When she was tired of that, 
 she divided the garden into the four quarters of 
 the world. Slie peopled them with imaginary 
 inhabitants of all kinds, distributing these with 
 as much regard to her own Httle theory of pro- 
 bability as was possible. An apple orchard 
 was the abode of giants who walked about with 
 heads high above the fruit-trees, and, when the 
 fruit was ripe and rosy, would be able to look 
 down on the best and brightest of the clusters 
 at the very 'top, and take what they liked for 
 themselves. Olive was sure that the beauteous 
 Saba, wife to St. George of England, was 
 chained to one tree far in the depths of the 
 orchard, and, unless rescue came, would be 
 devoured. Sometimes as the child passed this 
 stronghold of gianthood, she timidly listened 
 for the clash of knightly arms ; more usually, 
 she ran quickly by, lest she herself should be 
 captured. A dense thicket of gooseberry- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 37 
 
 bushes was the hiding-place of serpents with 
 endless lengths of coil ; a bed of tender lilies of 
 the valley sheltered fairies who climbed up the 
 flower-stalks from bell to bell as by a delicately 
 constructed ladder, and peered forth on the 
 w^orld from the highest of these tiny perfumed 
 white tents, ready to take flight the moment 
 any child of man appeared. After an hour or 
 two, the whole garden was densely peopled by 
 heroes and heroines of ' The Seven Champions 
 of Christendom,' or of Madame D'Aulnoy's 
 Tales, and Olive went reverently up and down, 
 half overborne by the sense of the presence of 
 these supernatural beings, in whose existence 
 she all but implicitly believed. She was con- 
 scious of a certain feeling of fear as well as of 
 reverence, and ran by the lair of the deadly 
 snakes, trembled if a leaf rustled, and half ex- 
 pected to see the giants towering above the 
 apple-trees, or an enormous hand stretched 
 forth from amongst the lichened branches. She 
 knew ' The Castle of Otranto ' by heart, and 
 was well prepared for the sight of nodding 
 plumes at any unwonted elevation from the 
 earth. She was familiar with corridors and 
 
38 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 subterranean passages, and with antique lamps, 
 whose slender flame expired just as the beau- 
 tiful heroine or dauntless hero had become 
 aware that he was no longer alone in the dark 
 and vaulted chamber. Olive had always had a 
 burning desire to find a concealed treasure, but 
 never could feel that any such luck was likely 
 to befall her in London, which was much too 
 crowded for anyone to be able to take up a 
 paving-stone in order to hide stores of gold or 
 jewels. JSTow, in the country, every broad 
 stone which she saw laid down in field or 
 garden seemed to her the possible covering of a 
 treasure of dazzling rubies or diamonds, all of 
 which would be hers by right of discovery if 
 she could but find them ; or there was the hope, 
 the scarcely hoped-for hope, that she might 
 live to find, to see, and have for her own, 
 handfuls, nay, basketfuls, of the jewels with the 
 lovely names which it was her joy to read 
 about in the Bible. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 39 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Truly I would the gods had made thee poetical. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 To mark the structure of a plant or tree, 
 And all fair things of earth how fair they he. 
 
 Charles Lamb. 
 
 After a fortnight had passed, Ohve, who had 
 more than once looked wistfully at various 
 little brown-faced village children, began to 
 pine for a companion — some one to help her to 
 play. She confided this wish to Aunt Lettice, 
 and asked if she might play with Willie Morri- 
 son, the butcher's nephew. He was a little 
 London boy on a visit to his north-country 
 relations in the village. She had seen him pass 
 several times, and he was a very nice gen- 
 tlemanlike boy, who wore a blue jacket, and 
 not ' brown ribbed things Hke the village boys.' 
 
 ' Fustian, you mean,' said Miss Lettice. 
 
 'Well, ftistian; but Wilhe Morrison does 
 
40 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 not wear it, and he looks so nice. I am sure 
 uncle would not mind my playing with such a 
 good-looking little boy as that.' 
 
 ' Well, if you think so,' replied Aunt Lettice, 
 ' I am sure I don't object either. He is a good 
 boy, I know, and it is dull for you ; but you 
 must promise me never to ask me to let you 
 play with any of the other village children, and 
 you must not bring Willie into the house or 
 garden : your grandfather would not like that ; 
 and no other children, Olive, not one single 
 one.' 
 
 ' Oh no ; I did speak to two little girls one 
 day — I on one side of the gate and they on 
 the other ; so you don't call that wrong, do 
 you. Auntie ? And I just told them about the 
 snakes and giants in our garden, and one ran 
 away crying so loud you could hear her all the 
 way to the village, and the other said I was " a 
 bad girl and told lies ! " Weren't they stupid ? 
 But I like boys best, so never mind.' 
 
 Having obtained her aunt's consent, Olive 
 waited at the gate until Willie passed. She 
 knew that he went down the lane every day 
 about half-past eleven. She did not wait long. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 41 
 
 He was a frank-looking, bright-eyed boy of her 
 own age, with a quiet thoughtful way of look- 
 ing about him, and a pale London-bleached 
 face. He was kicking stones along the road as 
 any other young gentleman might have been 
 doing, and stopping every now and then to look 
 at anything which interested him. 
 
 ' Don't go past the gate,' cried Olive. ' Stay 
 and play with me.' 
 
 ' Girls can't piny,' he replied doubtfully, but 
 with something very Hke a pleased sniile 
 breaking over his whole face. 
 
 ' Oh, but I can,' said Olive ; ' besides, I can 
 tell you stories.' 
 
 ' With plenty of killing in them ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, some with killing in them. But do 
 you like stories of that kind best ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I like killing ones best, and murders 
 out of the newspapers.' 
 
 ' I am afraid he won't do,' thought Olive, 
 ' he is vulgar-minded ; ' then she said, ' I can 
 tell you some kilHng stories out of books. I 
 don't hke them in newspapers, they put such 
 ugly bits in them, but I can tell you some 
 which you will care far more for, out of 
 
42 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 Macaulay's Lays, and the Scottish Minstrelsy. 
 But, where were you going ? ' 
 
 ' To my aunt's, as far off as you can see 
 along the lane. I go there every day with a 
 message.' 
 
 ' Then you can't stay and play ? ' 
 
 ' Ask if you may go with me.' 
 
 ' Well, dear,' said Miss Lettice, in answer to 
 this request, ' if you feel that you could enjoy 
 a walk, it is a sign that it would do you good 
 to go. I think you may, for it is not far ; but 
 remember, in a general way I like you best in 
 the fields close by, or in the garden.' 
 
 After this the children were inseparable. 
 Willie was actually nearly two years older than 
 Olive, but she was in reality older than he. 
 She soon began to be warmly attached to the 
 boy, yet she despised him intellectually, thought 
 his taste in hterature contemptible, his aim in life 
 woefully low, his feeling for poetry nil ; but in 
 spite of all, after a while she loved him pass- 
 ionately. This love was the fruit of her novel- 
 reading. She had cultivated it from a feeling 
 that it was time she had a real lover of her own 
 and that there was no one else in Austerfield 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 43 
 
 to play the part. Willie was the only boy who 
 was gentlemanhke, and wore a blue jacket ; 
 all the others were clods, who were cruel, and 
 tortured birds and butterflies, and did not even 
 look at flowers, but spent all their holiday time 
 in cutting sticks or throwing stones. Willie 
 liked flowers without much prompting from 
 Ohve, never hurt animals, and was ready to 
 devote himself from early morning till late 
 evening to her. This was the only proof of 
 love he gave her, but it was unfaihng. Olive, 
 who — thanks to her aunt's general benevolence 
 to children, and slippery manipulation of pro- 
 mises — had since she came to Austerfield read 
 romances enough to turn a grown-up head, and 
 who nightly sobbed as if her heart would 
 break over the sorrows of Emily and Yalan- 
 court in 'The Mysteries of Udolpho,' or of 
 Amanda in ' The Children of the Abbey,' — who 
 was used to the kind of novel in which hero 
 and heroine go through every probation, every 
 misery and injustice which cruel parents, guar- 
 dians, or traitorous uncles, and stony-hearted 
 relatives can inflict, and at last come out of all, 
 triumphant in love and happiness — would have 
 
44 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 liked some such stormy experience herself. 
 She wanted Willie to protest his adoration. 
 She m return would confess her love ; all 
 would go smoothly for a few weeks, during 
 which they would keep their passion to them- 
 selves and grow nearer to each other daily ; 
 then trouble would come, and for ten or 
 fifteen years they would neither of them know 
 a happy moment, but bear and suffer unheard- 
 of miseries and privations — perhaps be locked 
 up and fed on bread and water — all which 
 things they would go through with smiling 
 faces and absolutely unshaken constancy. She 
 pictured to herself the bhss of hving for months 
 with no other solace than a secretly conveyed 
 letter, and foresaw the day when at length 
 their Hyrcanian- tiger-hearted relatives would 
 say that it was altogether in vain to try to part 
 such faithful lovers — that they were made for 
 each other, and that it was not in the power of 
 mortal men to turn aside the decrees of fate. 
 That is what she desired ; what she had was 
 this : every morning when it was possible to go 
 out, Willie waited for her under a hme-tree in 
 a very pretty field half-way between the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 45 
 
 Grange and tlie village. Then they walked in 
 the fields around, making up large bunches of 
 flowers which they loved far too well ever to 
 throw away when tired of carrying them. 
 They learnt to know so well where each flower 
 grew that they could have found it in the dark, 
 and to them the budding and blossoming of the 
 fluttering bird-cherry, or the waxlike and 
 golden barberry, or the sight of the first long 
 spike of lilac campanula, was an event waited 
 and watched for for weeks. As the year ad- 
 vanced, they brought home baskets of mush- 
 rooms, leaves filled with wild strawberries, or 
 cans of blackberries, and when tired they flung 
 themselves down by the side of a tiny beck 
 they were very fond of, and watched the trout 
 lying with their heads up-stream, looking like 
 semi-transparent golden -brown blots in the 
 clear water, or the minnows flashing by in the 
 sunshine. After two springs and summers toge- 
 ther at Austerfield they attained a new sense 
 with regard to birds, and found nest after nest 
 with the instinct and precision of savages ; and 
 when winter came, that too brought its own 
 joys. Children as they were, they never had a 
 
46 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 quarrel. Willie seemed passively happy and 
 perfectly content to give up the direction of 
 himself and of his days to Olive. Ohve was 
 happy, but she wanted something more. She 
 longed to see Willie throw himself at her feet, 
 and to hear him say, ' Ohve, I love you with 
 the whole strength of a passionate nature, and 
 without your love I die.' She wondered if he 
 did love her. He appeared to do so, for he 
 never seemed to care to be with anyone but 
 herself. Sometimes the village boys met them, 
 and called Willie a milk-sop, a lass-lad ; but 
 they very soon fled if he ran after them. 
 
 There was only one thing with respect to 
 which Ohve and Willie were not in perfect 
 harmony, and that was poetry. Perhaps Miss 
 Olive, unconsciously to herself, aiBfected to ad- 
 mire things which at her age she was unable 
 really to care for, from deference to names 
 which she had been taught to respect. She re- 
 peated ' Lycidas ' to Willie (her uncle had made 
 her learn it). Wilhe was bored, and said it 
 was very fine, and there was a good deal of it, 
 and that he did not care for poetry except, 
 perhaps, ' John Gilpin.' Olive thought ' John 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 47 
 
 Gilpin ' silly, and had a great dislike to poetry 
 which only aimed at amusing her. Then she 
 repeated one of Madame D'Aulnoy's fairy tales, 
 and behold ! all Wilhe's sympathies went with 
 the dragons, and when they carried off wond- 
 rously beautiful princesses in mad flight through 
 the air, his only wish was to know at what rate 
 of speed they could fly. He was bored by 
 ' Undine,' which alternately delighted and terri- 
 fied Ohve ; and until it occurred to her to tell 
 him ghost stories, she could not touch him on 
 the side of wonder at all. 
 
 She spent hours and days in planning their 
 future life together, which was to be spent 
 underground. Somewhere — the spot w^as un- 
 known to her as yet — but somewhere, she was 
 sure, half hidden by briars and brambles, 
 they would find an entrance to a range of 
 long-forgotten subterranean caverns which 
 they would make their own of — hide from 
 the knowledge of everyone, furnish stealthily, 
 and then inhabit. There was endless food 
 for thought and conversation in furnishing 
 and arranging these. The carpets were to be 
 skins of wild beasts. The rooms were to be 
 
48 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 lighted with coloured lamps. There was to be 
 a drawing-room, dining-room, and library. 
 The library was to contain every book in the 
 world. Willie was base enough to think of 
 food ; but food was promoted to the level of 
 poetry when they remembered that no one 
 must know of their existence, and that they 
 must steal away by night to distant towns to 
 bring back all they wanted, or Willie must take 
 his gun and shoot in one night a provision 
 which would last them for six months. They 
 resolved to begin at once to save up their 
 pocket-money to buy stores of candles, matches, 
 gunpowder, and clothing. 
 
 ' I mean,' said Olive, ' to wear crimson 
 velvet in the cave, for it will look so pretty 
 against the dark-brown rocky walls ; and you 
 too, Willie, had better wear some colour of the 
 same kind ; but we must have quite ugly 
 common things when we go out, so that we 
 may pass unnoticed as mere peasants. Oh ! 
 Willie, how delightful it will be ! ' 
 
 ' But we haven't found our cavern yet,' 
 observed Willie, who was prosaic to the very 
 ba.ckbone, ' and perhaps we never shall.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 49 
 
 'We are certain to find one,' cried Olive. 
 ' The idea has come to us so strongly that you 
 may be sure that it has not been given to us 
 for nothing.' 
 
 'It certainly would be awfully jolly to 
 be always going about by night in the dark ! ' 
 said he. 
 
 'And so delightful to think no one knew 
 where we were ! ' added Olive. 
 
 In the autumn after their first meeting, 
 Wilhe had to return home and go back to 
 school, but he was to spend his Christmas 
 holidays at Austerfield. To Olive it seemed 
 life would stand still from the moment when 
 he left her, and she earnestly hoped that he 
 would be equally miserable ; but Willie was 
 wanting as regarded all due expression of 
 his grief, if indeed he felt any pain worthy of 
 the name. To him the knowledge that he was 
 coming back at Christmas seemed a sufficient 
 reason for bearing up in the interval, and when 
 he spoke of his return to London he dwelt prm- 
 cipally on the fact that he hated learning 
 lessons. 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
60 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' But, Willie, won't you miss me, and our 
 walks and talks?' 
 
 ' Yes, of com^se ; but mind, by that time it 
 would be getting very cold for us to sit out.' 
 
 Olive would have sat down contentedly 
 on the highest peak of frosty Caucasus, if she 
 could but have had Willie by her side, and a 
 tear rose to her eyes at his speech ; but she 
 did not choose to let him see it, and hiding her 
 face for the moment, she said, 'We will be 
 happy at Christmas.' 
 
 ' Yes, that's a very jolly time. I hke being 
 here then, grandmother does make such awfully 
 good Yule cakes ! Does your aunt have them 
 made with sultana raisins or the others ? ' 
 
 For a minute Olive perfectly hated him ; 
 to show her indifference she said, ' Oh, no doubt 
 she has them made good somehow, but I dare 
 say I shall have to go to my own home at 
 Christmas, so I shall neither see you nor the 
 cakes.' 
 
 ' Oh, but if you are not here, Olive, 1 don't 
 w^ant to come,' exclaimed Willie, who had so 
 completely surrendered the conduct of his exist- 
 ence to Olive that he could not conceive life 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 51 
 
 in Austerfield without her. She was content 
 with that, and just on the point of saying, 
 ' Then you do love me, Wilhe, in spite of the 
 bad speeches you make to me ? ' but she was shy, 
 and sat in silence wondering how she was to 
 get through the weeks which must pass before 
 Christmas came. 
 
 When she bade Willie good-bye, she was 
 pleased to see that he looked very much 
 troubled about leaving, though shy of showing 
 it. She slipped into his hand her own best- 
 bound favourite book, in which with a very 
 bad pen she had blotted in his name. ' It is 
 for you, Willie,' she said, with quivering voice, 
 ' and you must not forget me.' 
 
 ' I am not likely to forget you, Ohve — it is 
 only eleven weeks ' 
 
 Olive shivered ; that speech was one which 
 might be interpreted in two ways and both 
 disagreeable. 
 
 'Well, good-bye, Olive, don't you forget 
 me, or my rabbits either. You will see that 
 they feed them, if your aunt will let you go ; 
 an mind, it is very bad to give them wet 
 cabbage.' 
 
 •B 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF iLUNOlS 
 
52 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 ' We ought to kiss each other when we say- 
 good-bye, Willie,' said Olive, for he was going 
 after shaking hands with her. So, awkwardly 
 enough, he gave her a limp, shapeless kind of 
 kiss and went, while Ohve, who had struggled 
 to bear up until now, broke out into the most 
 passionate agony of grief that she had ever 
 known. To hide her tear-stained face she 
 retreated to the hay-loft. There she stayed for 
 hours uttering bitter complaints against destiny 
 for separating her from Willie, against WilUe 
 for being so contemptibly small-natured as to 
 part wdth no sign of pain from one who had 
 been all in all to him for six whole months. 
 She would eat no dinner, read no book, listen 
 to no comfort, and when night came she went 
 to bed thinking that every day of the next 
 eleven weeks must be spent in equal wretched- 
 ness — how could it be otherwise when Willie 
 was away ? She did fret next day, but in the 
 evening she condescended to join the family 
 circle, and there she heard something which 
 comforted her and restored her love to the 
 dignity of a faith. Mr. Begbie, the clergyman 
 of the parish, was talking to her Aunt Lettice 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 63 
 
 about the dijSerence in the nature of girls and 
 boys. 'Girls,'-he said, 'are Httle women almost 
 from the beginning ; boys, dull, stupid, blunder- 
 ing creatures, who till the age of seventeen or 
 eighteen can neither express nor know, the 
 feehngs which govern them.' 
 
 ' That's it ! ' thought Olive. ' Willie loves 
 me so deep in his heart that he can't go burrow- 
 ing down to see how much, but he loves me 
 and I love him.' She doubted his love no 
 longer, but woefully missed his company, and 
 hung about looking so dull and hstless, that 
 even her poor old grandmother, aged eighty- 
 one, saw that she was ill, and therefore out of 
 love with hfe and its enjoyments. With a 
 gentle thought of the blessedness of rest in the 
 tranquil grassy churchyard which she dimly 
 saw lying before her own bedroom windows, she 
 said, ' I think they'll be putting botli of us in 
 the ground together, little Olive, before so very 
 long a time is over, if you don't get stronger 
 soon.' Olive looked up in surprise and alarm 
 at her grandmother, whose face was wrinkled 
 and puckered, and whose lips were violet with 
 age, then her eyes turned to the black and 
 
54 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 white headstones which marked the graves in 
 the churchyard. She tried in -an awe-struck 
 manner to think what it would feel like to be 
 lying there by her grandmother's side for years 
 and years instead of running about on the soft 
 green grass above. The idea was horrible! 
 ' I don't want to die,' exclaimed the child ; ' I 
 don't feel as if I could die.' 
 
 Then her grandmother put her cold hand 
 on hers, and Olive recoiled as if Death itself 
 had touched her. The movement was unper- 
 ceived by the old lady, who said, ' If God took 
 you now, Ohve, it would be a merciful act. 
 You would be spared a long weary life of 
 fighting with sin and sorrow.' 
 
 ' Didn't you like your life when it was nice, 
 grandmother ? I know it is not very nice for 
 you now.' 
 
 ' Yes, I liked it far too much ! It is very 
 wicked to set your affections on this life.' 
 
 ' But,' said Ohve in desperation, ' God gave 
 you your life ; did He think He was giving you 
 a bad thing when He gave it to you ? Did 
 He want you to be miserable ? ' 
 
 The child began to cry, for a chill had fallen 
 
THE LEADEX CASKET. 65 
 
 on her ; and in dread of hearing more, she 
 crept out of her grandmother's room into the 
 garden ; but there, too, death and decay were 
 busy. The trees were bare of leaves, the beds 
 of flowers, Wilhe was away, and she felt deso- 
 late and hopeless. 
 
 ' Nay,' cried Miss Lettice, when, an hour 
 afterwards, she went out and saw Olive's pale 
 face and her red eyes, ' but this is the road to 
 no place ; you are fairly killing yourself for 
 want of something sensible to do ! You shall 
 go to school to-morrow morning, as sure as my 
 name is Lettice Brooke.' 
 
 Her name was Lettice Brooke, and next 
 morning Olive went to the village school, with 
 a special recommendation to the master who 
 kept it, to place her at some distance from the 
 village children. She was, therefore, put at the 
 end of the bench just below his own desk, so 
 that he might conveniently check all approach 
 to inappropriate friendships by keeping her 
 under his own eyes. 
 
 She was so completely under liis eyes that 
 when her spirits returned, he found he saw a 
 great deal more than he had bargained for : 
 
66 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 caricatures of himself whicli did not tend to 
 feed his vanity ; portraits of nearly everyone 
 in the school ; verses, chiefly sentimental — any 
 art and every art received its share of attention 
 but the right one. Sums still ' cracked ' Olive, 
 but after a very short time there was so 
 marked an improvement in that respect that 
 the master was astonished. It was all due to 
 Aunt Lettice, who kept the child so well sup- 
 plied with pocket-money that she was able to 
 buy tofiy to bribe the big boys to do her arith- 
 metic for her, which carried her triumphantly 
 over the four simple rules, and landed her with 
 distinguished honour in the rule of three. 
 
 At Christmas, just as Olive expected to 
 see Willie again, she was summoned back to 
 London. She wrote a short note of misery, 
 spelt misary, to him, and then went home, and 
 was remarkably happy there. Her rosy cheeks 
 delighted her uncle, and her sympathy with 
 novel- writing charmed her aunt. 
 
 ' We will keep that dear child at home with 
 us, now that we have got her,' said Dr. Brooke ; 
 ' the house is twice as delightful to me when it 
 has her bright httle face in it.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 67 
 
 ' Oh yes, do let us keep her,' said Mrs. 
 Brooke ; ' she is no trouble whatever. I 
 believe she sat for two whole hours writing 
 this morning, without disturbing me once.' 
 
 ' Letters, or what, poor little thing ? ' 
 
 ' She was writing what she called her novel. 
 She took a few sheets of letter-paper, and cut 
 them into squares, and then scribbled away as 
 contentedly as possible. I can't tell you in the 
 least what it w^as all about — her style may be 
 clear, but I am sure her writing is not.' 
 
 ' Selina, you are determined to ruin that 
 child ! I won't allow this writing — it is the 
 worst thing possible.' 
 
 ' It will get her insensibly into the habit of 
 composition.' 
 
 ' I'll not allow it ! I don't want her to com- 
 pose. I should look on it as the greatest misfor- 
 tune which could befall her if she took to any- 
 thing of the kind.' The doctor meant what he 
 said, and thought that his house with yet another 
 author in it would be simply unbearable. 
 
 'Well, dear,' replied Mrs. Brooke quite 
 composedly, ' be easy ; if I write well, it is very 
 unlikely that Olive will have the talent also.' 
 
58 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Only my love's away, 
 
 I'd as lief tlie blue were gi'ey. 
 
 R. Browning. 
 
 It was not long before Olive was sent back to 
 Austerfield. ' After all, she gets health there,' 
 thought Dr. Brooke with a sigh, when he parted 
 from her. ' It is astonishing how soon she lost 
 her pretty colour after she came back here.' 
 Willie's father, a clerk in a City bank, with a 
 small salary and a delicate wife, was also glad 
 enough to consign his boy to the care of a 
 devoted grandmother, and know that, while he 
 himself was living between the dingy bank in 
 Threadneedle Street and the small and depress- 
 ing house in Han way Town, his boy was 
 having the~run of woods and fields, and enjoy- 
 ing pure country air. Mr. Morrison, of Grove 
 Place, Hanway Town, and Dr. Brooke, of 350 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 59 
 
 Harley Street, both sent their children away to 
 the httle Yorkshire village with much the same 
 thought in their minds. ' If even the child 
 does run a little wild, it is a fine thing for it to 
 be in the country ; in a year's time or so it 
 must come home and set to work to learn some- 
 thing in real earnest; But the grandparents of 
 both Olive and Willie thought it was quite time 
 for them to begin to do that at once, and made 
 them go every morning to the village school 
 from nine till twelve. The rest of the day was, 
 however, their own, and dearly they enjoyed it. 
 They were as inseparable as ever, the only 
 difierence being that their talk was a little less 
 childish, and their walks were a little longer. 
 Aunt Lettice, never at any time much of a 
 check on Olive, was now almost entirely en- 
 grossed by nursing her father and mother, and 
 the servants also, for the same reason, were not 
 so free as they used to be ; so the children 
 spent every afternoon and evening together. 
 They passed many an hour in the churchyard, 
 which stretched along side by side with the 
 Grange garden. Olive was fond of showing 
 her skill in deciphering black-letter inscriptions 
 
60 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 and telling pathetic stories about everyone with 
 a pretty name who lay buried there. She 
 credited the plain John Browns and Jane Smiths 
 with lives as dull as their names. Each child 
 passed the black tombstones with a shudder of 
 horror faintly tempered by pity ; they thought 
 good people were buried under white tomb- 
 stones and the wicked under black ones, and 
 the black ones were in Austerfield churchyard 
 sadly too frequent. 
 
 Near the church porch was the old stone 
 coffin of one of the Neville family. In this the 
 children used to sit making wreaths of flowers, 
 or resting from their rambles, and sometimes, 
 in grim play, one of them lay down to try to 
 fit a little living head into the round hole which 
 had once held the dead one. ' If you and I had 
 really been buried in a coffin like this, Wilhe, 
 hundreds of years ago ' began Olive. 
 
 ' — We should not be sitting here now,* 
 interrupted WilUe the prosaic. 
 
 ' No, no, I don't mean that ; we should 
 have a great flat stone lid above us, with our 
 pictures carved on it, both of us lying side by 
 side, and we should have a lap-dog to put our 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 61 
 
 feet on, and a cushion for our heads, and you 
 would have a sword by your side to show that 
 you were a knight, and I should have a pair of 
 scissors.' 
 
 ' But how do you know I should have been 
 a knight ? ' asked Willie. 
 
 ' Oh, of course you would — I should not 
 have known you if not ! ' And then she remem- 
 bered, what had been a great source of pleasure 
 to her for some time, that, as it was, Willie was 
 very much below her in station, and that when 
 the time came to tell her family that they loved 
 each other and meant to marry, there would be 
 a terrible outburst of wrath. No doubt such a 
 marriage would be immeasurably repugnant to 
 Doctor and Mrs. Brooke, as well as to her 
 father and mother, and they would all be sure 
 to act in such a severe way as to afford Olive a 
 most enviable opportunity of showing the stuff 
 of which she was made ; and she would show 
 it ! No one who ever yet lived in this world 
 should echpse her in constancy, patience, 
 and fidehty. Her novel-reading had taught 
 her to regard all parents and guardians as cruel 
 and worldly tyrants ; and though she dearly 
 
62 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 loved her own uncle and aunt, and had never 
 received from them anythmg but kindness, she 
 had a firm and hopeful reliance on all this 
 changing when once suitors began to present 
 themselves, and marriage to be talked of. 
 
 Miss Lettice, out of false kindness, had 
 really done her little niece somewhat of an 
 injury, for now she lived in a perfectly unreal 
 world. The good okl lady undoubtedly spoke 
 much truth when she asserted that she forgot 
 every book an hour after she had read it, and 
 this must be accepted as her excuse for sanc- 
 tioning a strangely miscellaneous course of 
 reading. However, if Olive's novel-reading 
 made her very foolish and romantic, it did her 
 no other harm, for, doubtful as some of these 
 productions were, she saw no evil in them. 
 She was silent for some time, but her mind was 
 busy with the great question — ^how would her 
 father receive WiUie ? Suddenly a thought 
 struck her, and her only wonder was that it 
 had never occurred to her before. Suppose 
 Willie was not what he seemed? In almost 
 all the novels she had ever read, heroes who 
 began life as peasants of a superior make turned 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 63 
 
 out to be the eldest sons of dukes in the third 
 vohuue. How odd it would be if that were the 
 case with him, and the inferiority of rank were 
 on her side ! But while she was still strugghng 
 with this great idea, he said, ' I can't play with 
 you this afternoon, Olive ; I am going to Bishop- 
 ton with my uncle on the pony. It will be 
 awfully jolly,' said he, seeing a look of dismay in 
 her face, and perhaps wanting to talk down any 
 objections which she was going to raise. ' I 
 am to have uncle's pony, and he is going to 
 ride Mr. Thompson's mare, and he has promised 
 to gallop whenever I like ; and if he has only 
 got time enough after he has done all his 
 business at market, he means to take me to see 
 the wild beasts' show. I wish you could go, 
 Olive ; it would be twice as nice if you were 
 there too ! ' 
 
 Olive's heart swelled. 
 
 ' There's lions and tigers and an elephant, 
 and a man puts his head in the hon's mouth, 
 and I mean to have a ride on the elephant.' 
 
 ' And you are going to leave me alone, to 
 be away a whole afternoon, for the sake of a 
 few hons and tigers ! ' 
 
64 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 'Well, but really, Olive, such beasts as 
 that ' 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense about beasts ! If you go, 
 you can't love me. If you go like that, Willie, 
 I'll love you no more and never seek flowers 
 with you again.' 
 
 ' But for once ? When it would be such 
 pleasure ? ' 
 
 ' Would it be such pleasiu:e ? ' asked Olive, 
 impetuously. ' Well, go then, and come back 
 and tell me all about the beasts to-morrow. I 
 forgot it would be such a pleasure, I wish I had 
 not been so cross about it.' 
 
 'You see, there's the ride,' said Willie, 
 apologetically ; ' I've never had a long ride on 
 that pony, and uncle wants me with him.' 
 
 ' It would be very nice, and you must go,' 
 said Olive ; after which speech, she made no more 
 objections, but nature was tinged with gloom, 
 and all true dependence on Willie's love was 
 gone. She was put in the scale with wild 
 beasts and found wanting ! She had all along 
 been nothing else but a self-deceiving fool ! 
 They parted as usual at mid- day. She dined 
 with her family, feeling no interest in mashed 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 66 
 
 potatoes browned before the fire, no joy in 
 apricot tarts decked with white kernels. List- 
 lessly she hung about the house, until at last, 
 for fear her grandmother should see her and set 
 her down to a long seam, because she looked 
 ' sorely in want of something to do to keep her 
 hands from idleness,' she went out to make in 
 sad loneliness the accustomed round of the 
 home-fields, before she went into the Camp 
 field, or the Well-springs, or little Scrogs 
 Wood, or Willowby Plump ; for every field, 
 every group of trees, had its name, and each 
 had its daily visit. The first field was one next 
 the Grange, and her grandfather's two cows 
 were pastured in it. On a happier day Olive, 
 when she saw Beauty lying at rest, would have 
 stolen on to her back, and, if she kept her 
 place during the tumultuous struggle of the cow 
 to its feet, have tried how long she could main- 
 tain her seat on that sharp bony ridge of Mrs. 
 Beauty's backbone. But to-day the sleek red 
 cow lay unmolested ; Olive had no heart to 
 play, no desire for flowers either; she could 
 find pleasure in nothing, for Willie was not 
 there ! Besides, it was almost certain that she 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 would have to revise and remodel the whole 
 scheme of her future Hfe, for what Willie had 
 done proved him to be one to whom it would 
 be hardly prudent to give the love of her Hfe. 
 
 The next field was a corn-field. All the 
 corn was cut and bound, and set up in stooks ; 
 and when she saw that this was done, two big 
 tears ran down her cheeks, for she and Willie 
 had settled in their own minds, when last they 
 saw it, that it probably would be cut by this 
 day, and they had resolved to come and, if it 
 were so, to make themselves a house with some 
 of the sheaves, and spend the afternoon therein. 
 She -half crossed the field — then she could bear 
 her loneliness no longer, and threw herself down 
 with her back to the sheaves and had a good 
 cry. A rusthng disturbed her. She saw 
 another group of sheaves at a httle distance 
 from her move, and from behind them crept 
 Wilhe. He came to her looking bright, rosy, 
 and affectionate, and putting his arm round 
 her he kissed her, and said, ' Don't cry, Oily ; 
 you see I did not go, after all.' 
 
 This was but the second kiss the children 
 had ever exchancred. Olive would often have 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 67 
 
 kissed Willie, but, as it never seeiwed to occur 
 to him to kiss her, she was too shy. 
 
 ' Did you stay at home on my account ? ' 
 she asked, divided between smiles and tears. 
 
 He nodded and said, ' I told uncle I didn't 
 want to go.' 
 
 ' Oh, Willie, and you did want ! ' she said 
 this very regretfully. ' But never inind, I do 
 love you for it ! ' She threw her arms round 
 his neck, and in her turn kissed him, and then 
 she sat still holding his hand in hers. ' Willie, 
 we do love each other,' said she. 
 
 Willie looked at her with troubled affection ; 
 he was very fond of her, but he had a great 
 dislike to showing any signs of it. ' If I didn't 
 love you, Olive,' said he with one glance at his 
 recent sacrifice, ^ I should not be here now.' 
 
 ' I know ; but you do love me, Willie ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I do ; you see, Ave have been so 
 much tos^ether.' 
 
 ' Better than anybody in the Avorld ? ' asked 
 Olive. 
 
 He gave a calm, well-thought-out assent, 
 and then added, ' None of my sisters are half so 
 nice as you.' 
 
68 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' And better than any of the girls you play 
 with in London ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I never play with any girls in London ! 
 I don't like any of those I know, well enough 
 to play with them. They are stupid things, 
 with nothing sensible to say for themselves ; 
 not like you, Olive ! ' 
 
 Olive smiled ; she had a certain pride in 
 her intellect ; she was well aware that on that 
 side she was stronger than Willie. 
 
 ' When I am with you,' said Willie, ' I 
 always find that it is quite time for me to go 
 home when I think I've just come out ; that's 
 because we are happy, I suppose ; that makes 
 the time seem so short.' 
 
 ' Willie, I do love you ! ' cried the passion- 
 ate little Olive. ' To-day when I came out, 
 and you were not here, I didn't know what to 
 do — I had nothing to do or to care for ; I was 
 just wishing myself dead ! We must always 
 love each other just as much as we do now.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Willie. 
 
 'And, Willie, when we grow up, you are 
 not to mind my father and mother, or my uncle 
 and aunt, being cruel to us ; and if they say 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. C9 
 
 disdainful things to you, you must bear them 
 as a way of showing your love for me. You 
 must keep constant to me through everything, 
 and, Willie, 1 will do exactly the same ; I 
 won't be unkind to them, or disobedient to 
 them, but I will always say, " You need not try 
 to get me to give up my Willie, for I never 
 can. I have always loved him, and I always 
 shall ! " ' 
 
 ' Yes ; that's w^hat we will both say,' ex- 
 claimed WilHe, who either really felt as she did, 
 or liked the martial sound of the words. 
 
 ' And when they say to you, as I am afraid 
 they will some day, Willie — for you see, unfor- 
 tunately, my relations arc of a superior rank to 
 yours — " We cannot suffer our daughter to 
 make this missy liance — your station, young sir, 
 is an insuperiorable bar to any union with our 
 house," you are to lay your hand on your heart 
 and flash defiance with your lustrous brown 
 eyes and say, " Measure not my rank by my 
 birth, but have regard to my achievements." ' 
 
 ' I say, Olive ! But you are going it ! — 
 Achievements ! what do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, that's what they say in all the books 
 
70 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 that I read ; and besides, you must have some 
 achievements — do something very grand and 
 distinguished, I mean ; you must be a soldier, 
 or a sailor, or win a battJe all by yourself, or 
 write a book that the whole world will go mad 
 about — I don't want to fix exactly what you 
 are to do, Willie, but you must do something. 
 Never mind about it now,' said she kindly, 
 seeing that her small companion was beginning 
 to sink under the weight of responsibility she 
 was imposing on him ; ' we will settle about 
 that another day ; all we need care about now 
 is loving each other. It is so good of you to 
 stay at home with me — I do so love you for it, 
 Willie ; I wish I could take you to some nice 
 place to make up for your not going to see the 
 wild beasts. Let us go to Ay ton Bank Farm.' 
 
 Ayton Bank Farm ! The children had 
 never yet been so far together. They rose 
 alertly, and, with arms entwined round each 
 other's necks, set out for their walk. More 
 than one flower as yet unseen by them was 
 discovered as they passed through the fields, 
 more than one hare roused from a rest so pro- 
 found that it seemed to the children that their 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. i\ 
 
 feet had just missed the pain of trampling on 
 the brown, sleepy creature, when it started off. 
 They pictured to themselves their delight in 
 catching a hare, when once they had taken up 
 their abode in their cave. They tried to enjoy 
 the taste of sloes, and sought for embryo 
 kernels in milky, unripe nuts, and looked with 
 love in each other's eyes all the way as they went. 
 At last they reached the Ayton Bank Farm 
 house-door, and then they remembered that no 
 one had sent them there, and that they had no 
 errand. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Willie, ' we must go in 
 now that we have come to the very door. Let 
 us give my grandmother's respects ; she said 
 the other day that she had a very great respect 
 for the people who live here, so we will say 
 that, and that we have just called to see how 
 they were.' 
 
 ' Let us say nothing,' said Olive, ' but that 
 you are Mrs. Morrison's grandchild, and that I 
 am Mr. and Mrs. Brooke's, and that we are out 
 together for a walk ; and then if she says, 
 '* Naughty children, go away home with you ! " 
 well, then we will go home, and that won't 
 
72 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 be so bad as it sounds, for we shall have 
 to do it before long anyhow, whatever she 
 says.' 
 
 But the potent names of the grandfathers 
 and grandmothers produced a kindly welcome. 
 ' And you're sw^eethearts, then, I reckon ? ' said 
 the farmer's wife as a benevolent joke. ' Well, 
 come in and have some milk and cake.' 
 
 OKve glanced proudly at Willie, when she 
 heard the word sweetheart used ; she was not 
 going to disown him ; he hung his head, and 
 looked a little shamefaced. They stayed tea, 
 and watched a girdle-cake being made for 
 them, and played all kinds of games ; and then, 
 in what seemed to them the late and dangerous 
 night, though it w^as but the dusky fading away 
 of a sweet autumn evening, they, much kissed 
 and entreated to come again, stole home 
 together, with arms confidentially locked round 
 each other's necks, and hearts more open to 
 each other than ever they had been before. 
 
 The darkness and the proof of love Willie 
 had that afternoon given to her, made Olive 
 unfold to him the very innermost thoughts of 
 her mind. All her hidden desires were re- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 73 
 
 vealed : she told him how she longed to dis- 
 tinguish herself; how she would like to write 
 anonymously some book the fame of which 
 would ring far and wide, or she alone would 
 man a life-boat, and go through a wild and 
 deadly storm of wind and wave to bring back 
 some shipwrecked crew, and when the Queen 
 wished to have her always in the palace by her 
 side as a reward for her bravery, and after- 
 wards, perhaps, to marry her to some great 
 duke about the court, then Olive would shyly 
 say, ' Not so, dear lady, in my youth I already 
 met him whom I must love all my life ; none 
 other may win my hand.' Then the Queen 
 would take her into her own bedroom and shut 
 the door and question her who it was, and she 
 would name Willie ; and then (if Willie had, as 
 she knew would be the case, done deeds of 
 such note that his name was known as soon as 
 spoken), the Queen would say, 'What, our 
 trusty William Morrison ? Nay, but we are well 
 pleased ! ' ' and then you know, Wilhe,' added 
 Olive, ' our fathers and mothers would be so 
 ashamed of ever having been cross to us about 
 loving each other, and we — no, we should be so 
 
74 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 happy, that we should care nothing about the 
 past, and the bad things they had done to us, 
 but freely forgive them and be just as fond of 
 them as ever.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' asked Willie. 
 
 ' Oh, then we should get married, of course,' 
 rephed Olive simply. 
 
 'And perhaps be just as cross with our 
 children when they wanted to marry against 
 our wishes as ever our fathers and mothers had 
 been with us,' said WiUie. 
 
 ' I am sure we should not ! ' exclaimed 
 Olive indignantly. ' Mine should marry just 
 exactly as they liked — except chimney-sweeps. 
 I do not think I ever could give one of my 
 beautiful girls to a sweep.' 
 
 'Or to a man who went about mending tin 
 pans,' added Willie. 
 
 ' Oh, no ; but don't think of such trades as 
 those — we need not.' 
 
 ' Your uncle keeps a carriage, Olive, and is 
 quite a grand gentleman. My father told me 
 that, and that he lived in the aristocratic part 
 of the metropolis.' 
 
 ' If your father said that, Willie, he speaks 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 75 
 
 very nicely, quite as well as my uncle. My 
 uncle doesn't use words a bit longer than that ; 
 but never mind about the carriage, or where we 
 live : all I care for is this, that we love each 
 other, and that I promise, I swear to you, 
 never to love anyone else but you, but to wait 
 patiently in my own home till you come for me 
 and say that you are ready to take me away to 
 your house.' 
 
 ' I wonder what people do to get houses,' 
 said Willie somewhat sadly. ' How did your 
 uncle get his ? ' 
 
 'By working very hard, and getting to 
 know how to cure people who are ill.' 
 
 ' I think I'll do that,' said Willie. ' How 
 does one begin ? ' 
 
 ' You must know Latin, for one thing — it is 
 all done in Latin, I know : so please to attend 
 to your lessons. 1 think I'll ask my uncle 
 what you are to do for the rest, if there is more 
 to do, and then when I get to know I can tell 
 you.' 
 
 ' And then,' said Willie, ' after I have learnt 
 Latin, and got the house and carriage, if I 
 drove up for you one day, and if I was to find 
 
76 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 then that you had changed your mind and 
 would not come ? ' 
 
 This was a deadly reproach to Olive, and 
 her first impulse was anger, but she remembered 
 that serious things were at stake, and said, 
 ' Willie, you may trust me as you trust your- 
 self ; I say I love you, and that I will wait for 
 you and marry you. You may beheve me, I 
 cannot say it more solemnly than I do — I pro- 
 mise you — there ! ' 
 
 ' That's right,' said he, with no undue ela- 
 tion. 
 
 ' But, Willie — mind, after your last speech, 
 you quite deserve what 1 am going to say — if 
 you never come ? suppose that.' 
 
 ' Oh, I am quite sure to come— trust me for 
 that.' 
 
 ' When I am really WiUie's wife,' thought 
 Olive, 'I must get him to use nicer words — 
 " Trust me for that ! " He is not a bit like a 
 lover. Valancourt would have said something 
 that would have made one ready to cry because 
 it was so beautiful. Lord Cherry would have 
 called on heaven and earth, and all the golden 
 stars that stud the vault of heaven, to witness 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 77 
 
 his trutli : and that kind of talk does sound 
 much better, and does make one believe much 
 more ; but never mind.' 
 
 ' Good-night, Willie,' said she, when they 
 came to the Grange gate. Somehow, it was a 
 tacit agreement between them that he never 
 went into the house. 
 
 ' Good-night — you are a nice little thing,' 
 said he ; ' I think Til give you a kiss.' 
 
 He gave her a kiss and ran away, and the 
 children did not meet again for years. 
 
.78 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 And I must work tliro' months of toil, 
 And years of cultivation. — Tennysoi^ . 
 
 Dr. Brooke came down like a wolf on the fold 
 and carried off Olive. Either he was dissatis- 
 fied with what he saw of his sister's manage- 
 ment, or he was unhappy at home without the 
 child. The day after his return he made one 
 last appeal to his wife, and entreated her to 
 set apart a certain number of hours daily for 
 her writing, and to spend the remainder in 
 the ordinary duties of the British housewife. 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' she exclaimed ; ' it would be 
 absolutely impossible for me to hmit myself in 
 any such way for the present, and I will tell 
 you why — the novel I am now busy with is 
 the very best bit of work I have ever done ; I 
 am certain it will be a success, but I must 
 finish it first.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 79 
 
 ' But couldn't you promise me never to 
 work at it except at stated times ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I could. But I couldn't keep 
 my word. And if you, Eichard, had something 
 in hand which you were quite sure would make 
 your fortune if you could only get it done, 
 could you be kept from going on with it ? 
 That is to say, wouldn't you be very unhappy 
 if you were kept from it ? Think yourself. 
 My head is quite full of my last volume — all 
 the people in it are much more alive to me 
 than any of those about me. How could 1 
 shut them all out of my thoughts ? I know 1 
 could not. I intend to see a great deal of 
 Olive, of course, but I must sit in my own 
 quiet room as usual. Don't begrudge me the 
 time I spend there.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke sighed. ' If you could but 
 wait until the children want less looking 
 after ' 
 
 ' And end by never doing anything ! ' 
 
 'You would make us happy. After all, 
 what is the use of being distinguished ? I know 
 what you are, dear wife — is not that enough ? ' 
 
 ' " Be content to be a private insignificant 
 
80 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 person, known and loved only by God and 
 me ; " that's wliat you mean, I suppose,' said 
 Mrs. Brooke. ' That is a bit, as I dare say 
 you know, from one of John Wesley's letters to 
 his wife ; but would Wesley himself have been 
 contented to be obscure? I doubt it, I am 
 sure ; men are very odd about such things. 
 Besides, he quite justifies the desire for distinc- 
 tion of which he complains in her, by saying in 
 the very next breath, " Of what importance is 
 your character to mankind? If you were 
 buried now, or if you had never lived, what 
 loss would it be ? " ' 
 
 ' Dear Selina, you need not quote that 
 against me. I couldn't speak so unkindly and 
 unjustly to you : All I ask of you is ' 
 
 ' To give up a thing I care so very much 
 about. Eichard, you have always been a dear 
 kind husband to me, but you would not be so 
 now, if you really made me do this. Ee- 
 member, I once did give up writing for several 
 years ! ^ 
 
 Whenever Mrs. Brooke used this plea, her 
 husband was reduced to silence. He found it 
 entirely unanswerable, and felt only that he 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 81 
 
 had been treating liis poor wife with harsh and 
 selfish cruelty. It was quite true that for his 
 sake she had at one time given up writing for 
 some years. But to understand the feelings 
 awakened by this speech of hers, a portion of 
 his early history must be told. Dr. Brooke's 
 father was originally a very rich man, and 
 owner of the greater part of the parish in which 
 he lived. He had a large family of sons and 
 daughters, who had all been brought up to 
 believe that his large fortune would smooth 
 away all the difficulties which lie in the way 
 of those who have to gain their livelihood in 
 some professional career. Suddenly, however, 
 by the dishonesty of a co-trustee, he had lost 
 the greater part of his property. He had most 
 honourably satisfied every claim on him, but 
 only by sacrificing by far the larger part of his 
 fortune. This had crippled his resources at a 
 very unfortunate time, so far as Eichard, his 
 third son, was concerned. He had chosen the 
 medical profession, and was diligently studying 
 for it in London when the discovery was made. 
 At the first aspect of affairs it seemed as if 
 Eichard's medical studies would have to be 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 given up, and lie would be compelled to accept 
 a place in a government office, which was 
 offered him by a friend. He was boarding at 
 that time with a distant relation of his father's, 
 a widow lady of the name of Egerton, in 
 Gower Street. Mrs. Egerton had birth and 
 education, but so little of this world's other 
 wealth that she was not sorry to eke out her 
 modest income by humouring her Austerfield 
 cousin and taking his son into her house while 
 he attended college. Poor people, however, 
 are always those who have the most money at 
 their disposal when helping a friend in need is 
 in question ; and when Ei chard Brooke sud- 
 denly found himself comparatively penniless, 
 Mrs. Egerton refused to let him leave her. 
 He must, she said, continue to be an inmate of 
 her household, and should pay her, if he could 
 not be happy without paying her, when he be- 
 came either a fashionable doctor or a great 
 man, or both combined. After a time, finding 
 that he was much worried about money mat- 
 ters, she even volunteered to lend him a certain 
 sum for college fees, but it was years before 
 he knew how she obtained it. She had one 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 83 
 
 daughter, a quick-witted, handsome girl of 
 eighteen, much given to writing romantic verses 
 and sentimental stories for magazines. He had 
 seen some of these in MS., and sometimes even 
 beheld their beatific state of translation into 
 print, but he had a general impression that, as 
 a rille, hard-hearted editors usually declined to 
 accept the fair Selina's contributions. Jealousy, 
 Mrs. Ecrerton liinted, was at the bottom of this. 
 Kichard Brooke did not go so far ; he liked the 
 girl, and sometimes he liked the verses. All 
 at once, Selina laid pen and paper by, and 
 made a sort of friendly arrangement with some 
 acquaintances in Eussell Square to go there 
 daily to teach their children. He faintly won- 
 dered at the time why she gave up the com- 
 fort and liberty of home-life to undertake this 
 daily drudgery when there was no need for it ; 
 but she looked cheerful and happy enough, 
 and not until he had so far made Ms way as to 
 be able to repay what he owed to Mrs. Egerton, 
 did he learn that all that Selina had done had 
 been for him, that he had had the use of every 
 penny of her salary, and whatever she had 
 ever made by verse- or story- writing besides, 
 G 2 
 
84 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 and that all the money lent to him by the old 
 lady had been earned by the young one. Her 
 unselfish kindness at that time had secured to 
 him the means of entering on an honourable 
 career. To help him she had then freely sac- 
 rificed every pleasure dear to youth, and all 
 her hterary ambition ; was he, now that she 
 was his wife, to put impediments in the way 
 of her trying to recover lost ground and doing 
 the work she most fancied ? He had married 
 her then out of intense gratitude for her un- 
 selfish love ; but did not marrying her imply a 
 wish to make her happy, and had she not a 
 claim on his indulgence now beyond that which 
 any other woman could have had ? He was 
 ashamed of having remonstrated so strongly 
 with her. ' Dear Selina, I do not forget your 
 kindness,' he said, as many a time he had said 
 before when his poor wife had reluctantly 
 hinted at this plea. ' Do not think I ever can 
 forget it. You did everything for me then, you 
 shall spend your time as you best Hke now. I 
 hope your present novel may be a very great 
 success ; I earnestly hope it. Work away at it, 
 and give it every chance. At the same time, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 86 
 
 do • spare as miicli time as you can to poor 
 Olive ; but I am sure you will.' 
 
 ' Yes, of course I will ; I love you, clear, 
 and I love Olive and the children, and I do try 
 to make you comfortable and happy. As for 
 all your sisters and friends, and people of that 
 kind, I only try to do the best I can, and if 
 they put themselves in the way of finding that 
 insufficient, why, it's their fault and not mine.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke sat a minute or two looking at 
 the inheritress of unfulfilled renown opposite 
 to him. There was ink on her fingers, and 
 much on her MS. She looked very tired and 
 worn, and was certainly working far too hard 
 for her health. He had just wished that her 
 novel might be a great success ; but when he 
 saw how pale she was, he began to think his 
 wish had not been a wise one, for her industry 
 would redouble with success. 
 
 While he was thus considering whether a 
 stern refusal from her pubhsher might not 
 prove a blessing in disguise, she was thinking 
 that no young man of her acquaintance would 
 make half so handsome a model for a hero as 
 her own very handsome husband. His fea- 
 
86 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 tiires were magnificent, strong, refined, and 
 regular, his complexion was dark and rich, his 
 hair black without one grey hair. He was six 
 feet high, and singularly well-made ^ She could 
 not imagine how she could have been so stupid 
 as not to sketch from him before ! 
 
 Dr. Brooke rose rather wearily. This in- 
 terview had been very disappointing ; but for 
 the present, he felt that there could be no 
 further question of gainsaying his wife's desire. 
 He engaged a governess with a mind of the 
 purely practical order, who set Olive at once 
 to work, and saw that she did her lessons. 
 Months passed, during which she was so well 
 looked after that she had barely time for the 
 merest run into dreamland before she was re- 
 captured, She now and then ranted a great 
 deal, in very bad writing on very untidy scraps 
 of paper, or even viva voce when she dared, 
 about the dull routine of her daily work, the 
 soul- cramping effect of learning uninteresting- 
 tasks by rote, the abject monotony of pacing 
 up and down the gravel-walks of Eegent's 
 Park, the trammels of custom which even re- 
 fused her permission to kick a stupid pebble 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 87 
 
 about if slie liked, when she saw one lying 
 before her ; but she was forced to submit. 
 Miss Qiiilter, a long-waisted, straight-backed 
 lady, with a dazzling gold chain, which she 
 wore — not put round her neck, but caught 
 over a large machine-cut cameo, and hanging 
 down below in an ample festoon — Miss Quilter, 
 with her long thin nose, cold watery blue eyes, 
 and sandy curls pinned and held together on 
 each side of her face by hair pins — Miss Quilter 
 had a will of iron. Nor was Olive's bondage 
 cheered by news of Willie. She had never 
 heard one word of him since they parted. She 
 confided to her governess that when at Aus- 
 terfield she used to play with a very dear little 
 boy called Wilhe. Miss Quilter ' wondered 
 her uncle allowed it. It was not nice for girls 
 to play with boys.' Olive innocently disclosed 
 that the little boy's uncle was a butcher, on 
 which Miss Quilter in a frightened whisper 
 begged her to be ' quite sure never to mention 
 that fact again to anyone as long as she lived.' 
 And being pressed for her reason for this strange 
 injunction, Ohve was told that she would soon 
 find out for herself that it would not do ! She 
 
88 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 said that she hoped to see Wilhe some day, as 
 he lived in Hanway Town, and Hanway Town 
 was very near. 
 
 ' My dear ! ' cried Miss Quilter, 'I am con- 
 vinced that you will never be allowed to know 
 anyone who lives in Hanway Town ! ' and then 
 she set a great stone over her lips,, and sealed 
 them to silence. Ohve could not draw onie word 
 more from her on the subject. She had already 
 talked to her aunt about Willie, and Mrs. Brooke 
 had listened and said it was quite a romantic 
 story, and Olive was quite a romantic little 
 woman, and that some day perhaps she would 
 see Willie grown rich and great, riding a beau- 
 tiful horse in the park, or driving a splendid car- 
 riage ; but when Olive said she wanted to know 
 what he was doing now, Mrs. Brooke replied that 
 she had not time to trouble herself about that 
 — something very uninteresting, no doubt, in 
 reality, if Olive did but know. 
 
 ' But may he never come to our house ? ' 
 asked the child ; ' or mayn't I go to see him ? ' 
 
 ' Go to see boys of that kind ! Butchers' 
 nephews ! I never heard of such a thing.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke never heard of such a thing 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 89 
 
 either, when Ohve's wisli was repeated to him, 
 and he even dedined to waste time in feehng 
 horror at the idea. ' Mind your books ; ' ' At- 
 tend to your lessons ; ' ' Eun away, and do be 
 a good girl,' was all that Olive could obtain 
 from an inky-fingered aunt, or an overworked 
 uncle, when this subject was brought forward ; 
 and in' time she ceased to speak of it, cherishing 
 the thought of her dear little companion all the 
 more tenderly because she was not allowed to 
 speak of him, and retreating, whenever she was 
 able, to a lonely world where all was joy and 
 sunlight, and she and Willie were the sole in- 
 habitants. ' Mind her books : ' she had none 
 but school books ! Under the Quilter dispen- 
 sation all novels were locked away, and all 
 poetry was discountenanced save such as con- 
 tained a due amount of moral teaching. She 
 parsed ' Thomson's Seasons ' by way of study- 
 ing the classics profitably, and read ' Paradise 
 Lost ' aloud on Sunday afternoons, passing over 
 the devil's speeches as dangerous. Olive felt 
 the want of what she considered poetry so 
 much, that she took to writing it for herself, and 
 amply repaid herself for all privations that she 
 
90 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 was compelled to undergo, by depicting a world 
 entirely to her own taste, where she lived free 
 from any fetters, either of time, or space, or 
 custom. If she touched common earth at all 
 in any of these effusions, it was only when she 
 shrieked — occasionally, alas — in somewhat halt- 
 ing lines ! her rage at the chains which bound 
 her. All this dislike of her actual life was very 
 much exaggerated. She was by no means an 
 unhappy child, but she always proclaimed her- 
 self as such in verse, because she had a fixed 
 belief that everyone who wrote poetry must 
 write as if under the ban of no common 
 despair. 
 
 Dr. Brooke had, however, made too sudden 
 a change in Olive's way of life. He took away 
 the books he disapproved of, but did not give 
 her others. She was torn away from Willie 
 and shut up with Miss Quilter, who was like a 
 bit of arid land on which neither flower nor 
 green herb would grow, and who felt as much 
 sympathy and pity for OHve as a block of 
 Aberdeen granite in a cemetery does for the 
 daisies which are displaced to make room for 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 91 
 
 it. Alick and Lucy, her cousins, were dear 
 little things, but too young to be more than 
 playthings to Olive. 
 
 At last, a year and a half after she had left 
 Austerfield, Olive heard that her Aunt Lettice 
 had been asked to pay a visit in Harley Street, 
 and as soon as the child heard this she was full 
 of delighted expectation of either seeing or 
 hearing of her companion Willie. She asked 
 a multiplicity of questions. Miss Lettice re- 
 plied, that she knew nothing about him ; he 
 had gone back to his own family ; he had not 
 been at Austerfield ; he was at school, she 
 thought. She dealt with his uncle as usual, 
 and thought it was ' very dishonest of him to 
 charge so much for his best joints ! It was too 
 bad in a place where there was no other 
 butcher within two miles, and when he knew 
 that the larder at the Grange was such a bad 
 one for keeping things.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aimt Lettice,' cried the outraged 
 Olive, ' do say no more about that ! I hate it 
 all ! Besides, it has nothing to do with Willie ; 
 he did not live with that uncle, he lived with 
 his grandmother.' 
 
92 TRE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' I know where he hved quite as well as 
 you,' cried Miss Lettice, ' and you had no busi- 
 ness to play so much with him, or ever to know 
 anything about him. Everyone here in London 
 says that, and I say it too ! I have been more 
 scolded about that boy, and that time, than I 
 can ever forget ! I shall never hear the last of 
 letting you run wild and have all your own 
 way ; but all I can say is this, that if you were 
 to come back to Austerfield now, and this 
 Willie happened to be there, you should not 
 say one single word to him. And as for books, 
 you should not touch one of mine. Your 
 uncle and aunt should send whatever they 
 wished you to read with you in your own box, 
 for I never will be so scolded again.' 
 
 ' Not speak to Willie if I saw him ? ' 
 
 ' No, not speak to Willie if you saw him ! 
 It is no use crying — my mind is quite made 
 up ! ' 
 
 Olive's tears fell faster and faster, — Miss 
 Lettice grew more and more uncomfortable. 
 ' Don't cry, Olive,' said she nervously ; ' nothing 
 has been said about your going back with 
 me ; and if you did go, I do not suppose this 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 93 
 
 Willie you think so much about would be 
 there.' 
 
 ' I never — never thought you would be so 
 cruel,' sobbed Olive. 
 
 ' I — I am not cruel — I would do anything 
 for you, Olive — anything that was good for 
 you, I mean ! ' But Olive would not be com- 
 forted. 
 
 ' Don't go on crying, dear, please don't. I 
 will show you that I am not cruel. Come 
 upstairs with me. I have something in my 
 box which I am sure you will hke ; come, and 
 you shall have it.' Thus saying, she led the 
 child tenderly upstairs — unlocked a box, and 
 drew out two very gaudy railway novels trans- 
 lated from the French, with agonizing pictures 
 on the covers. ' There, child, you may read 
 those if you like. There is nothing in them to 
 hurt you — at least, I am almost certain there 
 is not,' she added, with a sudden distressed 
 consciousness that their contents had entirely 
 slipped out of her mind. 
 
 ' Thank you,' replied Olive, putting them 
 down ; ' Uncle forbade me to read novels.' 
 
 ' Then, here,' said poor Aunt Lettice, 
 
94 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 fumbling nervously with the catch of her 
 purse, — ' here is a sovereign for you — ask your 
 uncle to tell you what books you may buy with 
 it, and then you will have something to amuse 
 you.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 95 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 Oh days wherein all songs of birds were sweet, 
 The birds that mock us now with hoisterous mirth ; 
 Days when we laughed for joy of summer's heat, 
 Nor laughed less well when snow made white the earth ! 
 
 This present of Miss Lettice's led to the only 
 adventure whicli enlivened Olive's life for 
 years. Proud of her errand, the child went 
 with Miss Quilter to the bookseller's, and came 
 hurrying back to luncheon, exclaiming, ' Oh, 
 Uncle Eichard — Aunt Selina — such a very 
 strange thing has happened ! Just listen — let 
 me tell you. We took your list to Heathfield's 
 shop, and we were turning over the books he 
 brought us — and he is so stupid, uncle, he 
 hasn't half those you wrote on your list — he 
 said they were out of date — well, we chose 
 amongst those he had, and when we were done, 
 and I was giving your address for the parcel to 
 be sent, a lady I had not noticed before turned 
 
96 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 suddenly round, looked very steadily at me as 
 if she wanted to see deep down into my eyes, 
 took my hand in both hers, and said, " Don't 
 think it strange of me to shake hands with you, 
 dear ; your father and I were friends a long 
 time ago — you are very like him ; " and so she 
 stood looking at me, and I stood looking back 
 at her for ever so long, or perhaps it only 
 seemed so long to me because I felt so strange 
 and as if I did not know what to do or say, 
 and then she said, " I hope he is quite well," 
 and Miss Quilter came and answered and told 
 her that you were pretty well, but that you 
 were not my real papa, and after that the lady 
 went away. What ought I to have said ? ' 
 
 ' Quite a romantic adventure ! ' cried Mrs. 
 Brooke, adopting her usual formula. ' I think 
 I had better use it — I will make the lady very 
 beautiful ' 
 
 ' She was beautiful,' interrupted Olive, ' in 
 a heavenly, star-hke way.' 
 
 ' I will describe her beauty in more intel- 
 ligible language,' said Mrs. Brooke, ' and, 
 Kichard, I'll make her the wife of the gentle- 
 man she asks after, only he shall have married 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 97 
 
 again because he thought this lady, the first 
 wife, you know, was dead.' 
 
 ' Selina dear, I really think it would be 
 better if you were to compose your novels in 
 the stillness of your own chamber.' 
 
 ' Oh, there shall be no harm in this at all ; 
 my book shall be a kind of Enoch Arden story 
 tiurned the other way. The first wife shall 
 never reveal herself, but shall flit about her 
 husband's path all his life. She shall take care 
 never to let him see her, but she shall be a sort 
 of good angel to him and his family, and do 
 everything she can for them all. Oh ! I will 
 make it so beautiful and touching ! — Why, 
 Eichard, how pale you are ! ' 
 
 ' I am affected by your new plot,' said he 
 drily. 
 
 Olive was haunted by the pretty lady's eyes 
 for months ; she described them as beautiful, 
 sweet, loving eyes, which looked as if they had 
 such a great deal to tell you. She was always 
 longing to see her again, but she never did. 
 She made her the heroine of some romantic 
 poems, and then she forgot about her. She 
 never forgot Wilhe, though all she could 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 do to bring herself nearer to him was to gaze 
 affectionately across the chimney-pots in the 
 direction of Hanway Town, or pore over the 
 map of London until she knew by heart the 
 name of every street in the unfashionable 
 suburb in which he dwelt. She spent a great 
 deal of time in forming plans to get to see it, 
 but Quilter the odious — the alert — the unper- 
 suadable, would never hsten to any entreaty to 
 walk that way. Either she remembered that 
 her eldest pupil had played with a butcher's 
 nephew who now infested that district, or she 
 herself, grim spinster though she was, preferred 
 to take her walks abroad in a more fashionable 
 neighbourhood — ^go northwards she would not ; 
 and Olive, at last, gave up seeking to compass 
 her desires, and waited with the settled purpose 
 of making a weak-willed nursery-maid take her 
 there, the very first time they were out together 
 alone. This, however, would not come to pass 
 for four months, when Miss Quilter would go 
 to spend her holidays with her sister. For 
 this Olive waited, pondering meanwhile on the 
 inscrutable ways of Providence, which had 
 permitted the existence of a second Miss 
 Quilter. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 99 
 
 At last an opportunity came ; Miss Quilter 
 bad departed, and Olive's two little cousins 
 were from home. She began her attack on 
 Betsy by saying tliat she would like to walk up 
 there, ' right past those trees.' Then she said 
 that she had heard of Han way Town, and 
 would so hke to walk there just to get to know 
 what the place was like. 
 
 'I know very well what it is like,' said 
 Betsy ; ' I go there on Sundays when I am out. 
 I have a friend there. But it is nothing to 
 want to see, Miss Olive.' 
 
 'But I do want to see it. Let us go 
 there.' 
 
 ' It is too far.' 
 
 ' Let us walk on in that direction, and then 
 if we find that it really is too far we can turn 
 back.' 
 
 ' And then you will go home tired out, and 
 say as how it was my persuading as took you 
 there.' 
 
 'No, indeed I wouldn't. I would say 
 nothing.' 
 
 ' But if I did go all the way there with you, 
 I am sure you wouldn't wait a minute for me 
 
100 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 till I just went into Marshall's shop to see if I 
 could have a word with my friend ? ' 
 
 ' How long ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps ^-we, minutes.' 
 
 ' Yes, I would ; but you must first show me 
 as much of Hanway Town as you can.' 
 
 ' You won't think much of it when you do 
 see it,' said the girl. ' There's nothing to call 
 aristocratic about it — just clerks and such as 
 that live there.' 
 
 At last they reached Hanway Town, and 
 Olive felt a tightness of the heart as she looked 
 at the long rows of small houses. Poor Willie ! 
 But perhaps he lived in one of the better ones. 
 They were all small and dingy, and marked 
 with the brand of humble gentiUty. Olive did 
 not like little tables covered with crochet table- 
 cloths with one large shell on a fluffy mat, for 
 central and sole decoration. 
 
 ' Come along. Miss Olive ; we have no 
 more time to lose,' cried Betsy, seeing Olive's 
 eyes and steps so much arrested. 
 
 ' Should you like to live here, Betsy ? — I 
 mean, to have one of these houses for your 
 own? ' 
 
TEE LEADEN CASKET. 101 
 
 ' Well, if anyone was making me a present 
 of it, perhaps ; but if I was a-choosing for 
 myself and had plenty of money, it would have 
 to be something genteeler/ 
 
 ' We will go,' said poor Olive, sadly. 
 
 ' Yes, but Marshall's ! ' exclaimed Betsy. 
 
 They went there; but Betsy's 'just five 
 minutes' became three-quarters of an hour, 
 and still Olive was left standing outside, gazing 
 with an utter absence of interest on muslin 
 collars and artificial flowers — a bright show 
 enough, but there was not a flower among 
 them of the good old Austerfield hedge-row 
 pattern. She made various uncertain plunges 
 into the doorway with an idea of seeking 
 Betsy, but the shop was so large that she was 
 afraid to go in. She walked backwards and 
 forwards outside in great uneasiness, and at 
 last began to look as if she were going to 
 cry. 
 
 ' Wliat is it ? ' inquired a soft voice, and 
 looking up, Olive saw the lady of her romance, 
 the lady who had spoken to her in the book- 
 seller's shop. She was quite as beautiful as the 
 picture which Olive's memory had preserved of 
 
102 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 her. Her dress was a plain black one, well 
 made, but much worn ; nevertheless there was 
 something about her which made Olive think 
 her superior to all the ladies she had ever seen. 
 Olive said she was waiting while Betsy was 
 inside the shop speaking to a friend, but that 
 she was beginning to be afraid she was never 
 coming. 
 
 ' Betsy is a very naughty girl ! If your 
 uncle and aunt knew that she left you in the 
 street in this way, I am sure they would be 
 very angry.' 
 
 ' Then they must never know, for it is my 
 fault ; I teased her till she came here with me. 
 I wanted so to see what Hanway Town was 
 like.' 
 
 ' I wonder why,' said the lady in so musical 
 a voice that Olive felt there was no power of 
 withholding one thought of her heart from 
 such a pretty sweet-voiced lady, and in her 
 own impetuous way began to tell how, long 
 ago, when she was quite a little girl at her 
 grandmother's, she had known such a dear boy 
 called Willie, who came from Hanway Town, 
 and how they had been parted and had never 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 103 
 
 seen each other any more. She had, she said, 
 always longed to get just one peep at Hanway 
 Town that she might be able to picture to her- 
 self where Willie was living. ' Do you perhaps 
 know him ? ' she asked, turning eagerly to the 
 strange lady, whose whole face was lit up by 
 one warm, bright, and loving smile as she 
 answered, ' No, dear child, I don't know him. 
 I am sure he is a nice little boy, though.' 
 
 On this Olive put her arm in hers in trust- 
 ing love, and was on the very point of telhng 
 her that they were engaged to be married, and 
 therefore certain to see each other again some 
 day, when she was chilled by these words : 
 ' But you ought not to have come here to-day 
 with yoiu" nurse without asking permission.' 
 
 ' They would very likely have said no, and 
 I did so want to come — I have wished it for 
 three years. It is three whole years since I 
 saw him, and during all that time I have wished 
 it every day of my life.' 
 
 ' When you are older, little Olive,' replied 
 the lady sadly, ' you will find that these things 
 which we wish for so much tliat we think of 
 them every day of our lives are often just the 
 
104 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 very things which it is not good for us to have, 
 and which we must give up/ 
 
 Olive sighed and wondered what the dear 
 lady could have had to give up that she much 
 wished to keep. Something, she was sure. 
 ' Is there anybody whom you want to see as 
 much as I want to see Willie ? ' Her com- 
 panion did not answer. She was looking 
 straight before her. 
 
 ' Are you unhappy ? ' inquired Ohve. 
 
 ' Yes, dear, I am afraid I am — not always 
 — sometimes — don't think of me.' 
 
 Olive clasped her hand tightly and looked 
 with anxious eyes in her face, — instinctively 
 she worshipped her new friend. 
 
 Betsy now came out of the shop in a great 
 fuss, looking red and cross, and floiurishing an 
 untidy paper parcel of small purchases. ' Miss 
 Olive, that's always the way,' said she in a loud 
 aggrieved aside, — ' always ! If one just turns 
 one's back on you for a single minute, you are 
 safe to go and get into some mischief or 
 another! Now, you know you havn't ought 
 to have spoken to no strangers, and you pro - 
 mised me you wouldn't.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 105 
 
 ' This lady is not a stranger,' replied Olive ; 
 ' I have met her before — besides, she is an old 
 friend of my uncle's.' 
 
 Betsy looked rather disconcerted. ' Well, 
 it wasn't me, as you know. Miss Ohve, as wanted 
 to walk here in the blazing hot sunshine all the 
 way uphill to Hanway Town. When it comes 
 to be found fault about, you will please to 
 remember that coming here was not along of 
 me or of any Avish of mine, but that it was 
 you yourself as kept on plaguing me to come, 
 and worrited and said so much about it, that I 
 didn't know at last whether I was standing on 
 my head or on my heels, and just gave in to 
 you and came.' 
 
 ' I never asked you to go into that shop 
 and leave me waiting here for a whole hour,' 
 said Olive indignantly. 
 
 ' I say ! — an hour ! ' cried Betsy, turning 
 very red ; ' five minutes, you mean ; and if you 
 expect me to toil all the way up here, and 
 pass by Marshall's shop without one word to a 
 friend I have there, all I can say is, it is more 
 than can be looked for from anyone.' 
 
 Olive was going to reply, but the lady 
 
106 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 checked her and told her to say no more ; it 
 was unladylike to dispute. ' Go home and tell 
 your aunt exactly what you have done,' she 
 added ; ' she is sure to be anxious.' 
 
 ' Her anxious, when she has her pen in her 
 hand ! — not a bit of it ; and if Miss Olive goes 
 and tells her everything, as you say, I'm sure it 
 will be too bad! I did not want to come 
 traihng here.' 
 
 ' Walk behind us,' said the lady to Betsy ; 
 ' I shall go home with Miss Brooke, and you 
 must follow close behind.' 
 
 There was a quiet air of authority about 
 her which Betsy did not feel able to resist. 
 Muttering something about ' It was me as was 
 sent out with Miss Olive, and not you,' she fell 
 behind, and the lady walked quietly home- 
 wards with Olive ; and somehow, though 
 nothing was said in the way of direct fault- 
 finding, Olive became aware that she had 
 behaved very ill in taking Betsy so far without 
 asking leave ; also, that she was not living as 
 she ought to do when she spent so much time 
 in cherishing romantic day-dreams and railing 
 against her lessons. This was quite a new 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 107 
 
 light to the undisciplined Olive ; she had always 
 thought that by so doing she had chosen the 
 better part, and that it was the truest sign of 
 genius to be discontented with common every- 
 day life. 
 
 ' A true genius,' said her friend, ' would 
 find beauty and nobility in any hfe, however 
 humble and commonplace, if borne worthily. 
 Besides, you ought to do your duty before you 
 even think about being a genius.' Olive hung 
 her head. 
 
 ' You love your uncle and aunt ? ' 
 
 ' I should think so ! I love Aunt Selina 
 very much, but I'd go barefooted to the end of 
 the world to get a pleased smile from my uncle.' 
 
 • Is that true, dear ? You know he gives 
 you a governess because he wishes you to learn, 
 and you know that you won't even take the 
 trouble to try to understand the lessons she 
 gives you — you only learn them by rote. I 
 have no doubt he would give you as many 
 smiles as you like if he thought you worked as 
 he wished.' 
 
 ' He does give me smiles — he does think I 
 work.' 
 
108 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Then, you deceive his trust.' 
 
 'I will be different,' said Olive very gently. 
 She was silent for a while, and very thoughtful 
 for nearly a week afterwards — then she burnt 
 her MSS., and applied herself to work hard with 
 Miss Quilter when she returned, and with such 
 result that even that lady, who did not care 
 much for anything but the dry bones of things, 
 could not but see that her pupil was doing her 
 very best to master what she taught her. She 
 informed Dr. Brooke of this, who came to kiss 
 Olive as she was sitting all alone in the grim 
 professional-looking dining-room, and told her 
 how pleased he was. 
 
 ' I know I am working better,' said Olive ; 
 'I am doing it because that lady told me I 
 ought.' 
 
 ' Uncle,' continued OHve, as he only stroked 
 her hair by way of an answer to this speech, 
 'what is her other name? She would only 
 tell me that she was called Alice. You re- 
 member what she said to me, " Tell your 
 uncle that I hope he won't think I have 
 taken a Hberty in looking after you a little. 
 I did not like to leave you to go home alone 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 1C9 
 
 with that maid who had deserted you once 
 already." ' 
 
 ' Yes, I know, Ohve,' said Dr. Brooke 
 rather impatiently ; ' you told me all about it 
 before.' 
 
 ' But, uncle, was it not odd of her not to 
 tell me her name — her other one, I mean ? I 
 wanted her to come in, but she wouldn't, and 
 then I said, " But who must I say it was that 
 brought me home ? " or nearly home it was, 
 you know, for she didn't come to the door, and 
 she said, " You need only say a lady your uncle 
 used to know a long time ago. We don't 
 know each other now, so it is of no use to send 
 my name. Tell him that I have spoken to 
 you this once, but only because I thought it 
 was a case of need, and that he may trust me 
 never to speak to you again." ' 
 
 ' " But I want a name to think of you by," 
 said I ; and then she just stooped over me, and 
 one of those smiles of hers came over her whole 
 face, and she said, " You may think of me by 
 the name of Alice," and so I do.' 
 
 ' That is right, dear ; but why do you tell 
 me all this over again ? ' 
 
110 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Because I want to know if you don't think 
 of her too, sometimes ? ' 
 
 Dr. Brooke had been looking down on the 
 child with a face full of grave interest ; at this 
 question, which was unexpected by him, he 
 almost started. 
 
 ' Of course I do ; she is, I think, a lady 
 I knew long, long ago, when I was almost a 
 boy.' 
 
 ' A boy of ten ? ' cried Olive, thinking this 
 was a similar case to her own and Willie's, and 
 that perhaps her uncle and this Alice had also 
 loved each other as children and had been 
 parted ever since. 
 
 ' A boy of twenty and twenty-iive.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' cried Olive eagerly. 
 
 ' Nay, I have never seen her since, and now 
 I am forty-two.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' exclaimed Olive musingly. 
 ' Then, do you think of her by the name of 
 Alice, or by some other name ? ' This inquiry 
 was a direct inspiration of the demon of 
 curiosity. 
 
 'I have nothing more to tell you, Olive. 
 She was a very sweet good girl then, and I 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. Ill 
 
 have no doubt she is just as good now, but I 
 am not hkely ever to see her again. When 
 you grow older, dear, you will find that, as life 
 goes on, people do slip out of your sight, and, 
 though you may still have a strong liking for 
 them, you don't see them.' 
 
 ' But why not ? ' cried Olive. ' Perhaps 
 she lives somewhere quite near — we might see 
 her — why don't we ? ' 
 
 ' Probably because she has her work to do, 
 as I have mine — it certainly does not leave me 
 much time to see people. I am staying too 
 long with you now. Good-bye.' 
 
 Olive was far from being satisfied. She 
 wanted to hear much more about this lady. 
 After this one conversation, she could never 
 induce either her uncle or aunt to name her. 
 Mrs. Brooke always said that she knew nothing 
 about her, not half so much as Olive herself ; 
 and Dr. Brooke would say no more than he 
 had said. One thing Olive could not fail to 
 remark, and that was, that henceforth she was 
 forbidden to go out with anyone but Miss 
 Quilt er. Daily they took their duty walk 
 together, and often did Olive's eyes scan the 
 
112 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 passers-by, to see if by some lucky chance her 
 romantic adventure could be repeated ; but the 
 lady had said, ' I shall never speak to you 
 again,' and she did more — she did not even let 
 herself be seen by her. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 113 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 With eves full of sacred imaginings of things that are not. 
 
 RUSKIN. 
 
 The reader must be so kind as to imao^ine that 
 six years have passed since the date of the last 
 chapter, during which time Olive has left 
 childish things behind her, and grown into a 
 remarkably beautiful woman. She was now 
 nineteen, tall, slim, and very upright, with a 
 peculiarly graceful carriage. Her hair, once so 
 unmanageable, was now gathered in bright 
 well-ordered masses round her head. Her eyes 
 were of the dark rich blue which is somethinor 
 
 o 
 
 like the colour of the stems of wild hyacinths. 
 There was a slight touch of melancholy about 
 them, though melancholy was by no means one 
 of Olive's characteristics ; but when she cast 
 down her long black eyelashes, there were 
 depths in her eyes which might mean a tinge 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 of sadness, or only denote quiet tLougMs and 
 much delight in the pleasures of retrospection. 
 Her complexion was a clear faint olive, with a 
 touch of bright colour in her cheeks. She was 
 indeed a bright young maiden altogether ; her 
 lips were rosy and her smile bewitching ; it 
 lighted up her whole face in one glow of 
 pleasure or sympathetic kindliness. She was 
 very shy, but at the same time impulsive, most 
 thoughtful and most thoughtless. She was 
 active-minded, quick-witted, helpful, and affec- 
 tionate. It was now nine years since those 
 happy days at Austerfield, and during all that 
 time she had never once seen Willie. Nor had 
 she so much as heard him named, except 
 perhaps once or twice in the casual, contemp- 
 tuous manner with which a matter of no interest 
 is spoken of and dismissed. Once she heard 
 that he had been at Austerfield, but when she 
 asked her little cousin Lucy, who was her 
 informant, if he had grown tall, and how he 
 looked, and what he did, the said informant 
 had not noticed him sufficiently to be able to 
 tell her. 
 
 To Olive herself, his image had by this 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 115 
 
 time become the very vaguest and most shadowy 
 of memories. She hked to think of him and 
 of the days when they were together ; but 
 though in these retrospections the fields and 
 woods and flowers stood up quite clearly 
 before her mind's eye, Willie did not ; and, 
 strive as she might, she could not remember 
 his face. N^either could she recall much that 
 he had said to her. In spite, however, of all 
 these drawbacks, the time when they were all 
 in all to each other always stood out as a bliss- 
 ful period of absolutely idyllic happiness. It 
 was a rest from her present life in a smoky, 
 dusty, crowded town, to turn her thoughts 
 back to that peaceful far-off time of sunshine 
 and fresh air. But she never looked for its 
 return, never hoped to see Willie again. These 
 were things which by no means could be 
 restored to her ; they were part of other 
 childish joys which there was no renewing. 
 Willie had, no doubt, forgotten her. At their 
 age, nine years are equal to twenty later in life, 
 and that Austerfield time did seem so long ago. 
 Occasionally, with a half-blush, she remem- 
 bered that there was in the world a young 
 I 2 
 
116 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 man whom she had promised to love for ever, 
 to welcome as her husband whenever he 
 claimed her, to whom she had given kisses and 
 every assurance of love in her power. She felt 
 very strange when she thought of these things, 
 ^nd her cheeks grew hot when she reflected 
 that he also must recall them and sometimes 
 think of them as she did. Occasionally, too, 
 she could not help saying to herself, ' If Willie 
 were to remember all this and still care for me 
 and come ? ' She half caressed the idea, but 
 was half afraid of it. Then she dismissed it by 
 saying, ' Oh, he has forgotten me ever so long 
 ago. How could a boy go on thinking of such 
 silly things for so many years ? If ever he 
 thinks of me at all, it is only to be ashamed of 
 having spent so much time in playing with a 
 little girl.' This was on the whole her con- 
 viction, and gradually she thought less and less 
 of him and of the past, though whenever she 
 did think of it, it was tenderly. After all, work 
 engrossed most of Olive's time and thoughts. 
 She went daily to a college near her own home, 
 and very hard she strove to learn all that was 
 taught there. French, German, and Latin, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 117 
 
 Physical and Political Geography, Biology, 
 Geology, Geometry, Algebra, Logic, and all the 
 other arts and sciences which now it behoves a 
 girl to master, drove out the music of the rapid 
 becks of the north and the visions of sun-lit 
 woods carpeted with flowers. Poetry was rare, 
 parsing and analysis frequent. Fairy tales were 
 left to babyhood, or turned into solar myths ; 
 legends were subjected to the hght of reason, 
 and all the gods and goddesses of mythology 
 were put in their proper and useful places 
 — kept there, too, for the most part, though 
 every now and then Olive's old spirit broke 
 out, and the old love of romance asserted 
 itself. 
 
 To Dr. Brooke these last six years had been 
 years of intensely hard work, during which he 
 had made his way professionally, but had found 
 to his grief that he was no longer a strong 
 man. Constant attacks of illness had weakened 
 his faith in his own health, and had made him 
 somewhat gloomy about the future. He was 
 in other respects quite happy. He no longer 
 distressed himself about Mrs. Brooke's literary 
 craze. Olive his niece was all that he desired. 
 
118 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 His boy Alick was at Harrow — his daughters 
 Lucy and Amy were at school in Brighton. 
 They were better brought up than they could 
 have been at home. Mrs. Brooke was much 
 the same as when our story opened — still ab- 
 sorbed in the weal or woe of fictitious person- 
 ages of her own creation — still bent on flourish- 
 ing a big cheque in her husband's face some 
 day, which would reward him for his years of 
 waiting for her success. These last years had 
 brought her the joy of seeing three of her 
 novels in print. One, that from which she 
 had hoped so much, had only found a publisher 
 on condition that she paid half the expenses, 
 which half had never been regained by her. 
 Nor had her book brought her much credit. 
 The next novel was printed on the half-profit- 
 and-no-risk principle, after a great deal of 
 signing, witnessing, and delivering. After a 
 long lapse of time came a document professing 
 its intention to show forth an account of sales 
 and returns. But all that was clear to Mrs. 
 Brooke was, that there were no returns. It is 
 true that a respectable number of hundreds of 
 copies had been sold, but the profits had been 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 119 
 
 SO taxed and re-taxed, and subdivided and 
 subtracted from, that 10/. or 15/. would amply 
 represent her earnings — not a sum with which 
 to make a figure in conversation, or a cheque 
 large enough to flourish in justification of the 
 time which she spent in writing. This novel 
 was called ' The Fateful Fortnight,' a name 
 which might in De Quincey's words have been 
 characterized as a very overt act of alliteration. 
 A third book had just come out, and had been 
 favourably reviewed in two or three newspapers, 
 on the strength of which Mrs. Brooke had set 
 to work harder than ever, and rarely left her 
 study. 
 
 Dr. Brooke had not many relations living, 
 but all of them pitied him for having such a 
 bad wife, and spoke their minds most freely ; 
 but their remarks did not trouble the gifted 
 authoress, for she said her time was much too 
 valuable to spend in dwelling on the silly 
 speeches of people who had nothing else to do 
 but talk of their neighbours, and locked herself 
 in her own room. The indignant relations 
 had, therefore, no opportunity of speaking their 
 minds to her, for she only saw them when her 
 
120 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 liusband and niece were present. Miss Lettice 
 still lived at Aiisterfield, but her aged father 
 and mother were dead. Little as she knew of 
 the world and its ways, she too said it was 
 a shame that Olive was not ' taken out.' So 
 said Mrs. Ullathorne also, and when Mrs. Ulla- 
 thorne said anything she meant it. She was 
 Dr. Brooke's eldest sister, ten years older than 
 he was — a widow, and an ill-tempered one. 
 Her husband had been a merchant in Man- 
 chester — a self-made man, who had died leaving 
 more than a quarter of a miUion ; and now his 
 wife lived in Kensington Square with Miss 
 Cochrane, an oppressed worm of a companion, 
 who turned, not on her employer, but on 
 everyone else. 
 
 Mrs. Vincent Eaymond, another sister of 
 Dr. Brooke's, said the same thing. ' It was a 
 great shame to keep a pretty girl like Olive 
 imprisoned in a dull, dingy, dark Harley Street 
 house ; she ought to be introduced and taken 
 everywhere.' Mrs. Ullathorne sniffed indig- 
 nantly when she heard Mrs. Eaymond say that 
 Olive ought to be taken everywhere : ' every- 
 where was worse than nowhere ! Mrs. Eay^ 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 121 
 
 mond was far too fond of going to houses whose 
 owners did not care whether she w^as dead or 
 alive.' Mrs. Eaymond, who was the wife of a 
 country gentleman, and still hved on the repu- 
 tation of having been a beauty, smiled at Mrs. 
 Ullathorne's old-fashioned folly, but dared not 
 let her see that she did so, and said she would 
 get her dear brother Chesterfield's permission 
 to take Olive to Court — the child would have 
 to be presented, and the sooner it was done 
 the better. Mrs. Ullathorne said she might 
 \vrite and make the ofier, but Sister Eaymond 
 must know very well that, even if Chesterfield 
 liked the idea of having Olive presented in his 
 absence, and wrote to consent, he would quite 
 forget to send a cheque for her equipment, and 
 was Sister Eaymond prepared to incur this 
 expense herself? Mrs. Eaymond looked dis- 
 concerted ; she and her husband had been 
 counting on Mrs. Ullathorne to manage that 
 part of the business, and meekly she said so. 
 On which that lady laughed her to scorn, 
 and declared that when she spent money, she 
 spent it on sensible things, and not on a few 
 dozen yards of silk to put in a train for the 
 
122 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 benefit of court milliners. ' I'll give a dinner 
 and ask her,' said she, ' and that will be intro- 
 duction enough ! ' 
 
 'Oh, sister! Eeally?' 
 
 ' I have said it, and I mean it,' repeated 
 Mrs. Ullathorne. ' I'll give a dinner-party.' 
 
 Then clear in Mrs. Eaymond's mind's eye 
 rose up a vision of that dinner, which she well 
 knew would be but a reproduction of many 
 another dinner of a dulness, and heaviness, and 
 oppressive ponderosity which had left their 
 mark on her for life. ^ And you will invite ? ' 
 — she began, though she well knew that Mrs. 
 Ullathorne would invite her stock-broker and 
 his wife, her doctor and his, her favourite 
 clergyman and his sister, a couple of friendly 
 barristers, the Brookes, the Eaymonds them- 
 selves, and Dr. and Mrs. Ullathorne from the 
 East-end because they were relations ; and 
 having given poor Olive the doubtful enjoyment 
 of their company, and the opportunity of 
 refusing two soups, two fishes, four entrees, 
 and a number of other dishes provided with 
 equal amplitude, she would relax her efforts, 
 and Olive's life would then be as lonely and 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 123 
 
 dull as before, only darkened by the memory 
 of this ghastly dinner. 
 
 ' I am the one who ought to have the child,' 
 cried Mrs. Eaymond. ' Chesterfield ought to 
 make me a handsome allowance ; he is quite 
 able to do it. I'd take her everywhere, and 
 have her well married before the end of the 
 season.' 
 
 ' You ! ' cried Mrs. Ullathorne with scorn. 
 ' And you'd settle her down with some one like 
 your own precious husband. No ! I tell you, 
 no ! Have I not informed you that I intend 
 to introduce Olive myself, and that I'll give a 
 dinner-party? so that, surely, may be con- 
 sidered as settled.' 
 
 None of the Brooke family dared to resent 
 anything that Mrs. Ullathorne said, for she was 
 very ill-tempered, and could defend herself, 
 and besides, there was the quarter of a million, 
 and she w^as known to be looking out for an 
 heir to her wealth amongst her nephews and 
 nieces. She openly proclaimed that she could 
 not reconcile it to her conscience to leave her 
 money to anyone out of her own family, but that 
 she despised and dishked every member of it. 
 
124 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Well, dear,' said Mrs. Eaymond, ' it is 
 settled. You shall give the first party, since 
 you wish it.* 
 
 'I don't wish it,' cried Mrs. UUathorne 
 snappishly. 'I never said I did; I do it 
 entirely from a sense of duty. Olive must be 
 introduced to society by one of us, and my so- 
 ciety is the only society worth knowing. Yours 
 suits you and your husband ; you know best — 
 at least, you don't, but you won't listen to me.' 
 
 Mrs. Eaymond smiled good-naturedly, and 
 said again, ' And you will invite — ? ' 
 
 ' Well, Olive of course, and Eichard Brooke 
 and that scribbling goose of a wife of his, and 
 you and your — and your husband' (for once 
 she considerately omitted the descriptive epithet 
 which she felt to be so approiDriate), ' and your 
 two boys — and tell them not to come smelling 
 of tobacco-smoke — and Mr. Eeynolds,' &c. ; 
 for she did but name the names Mi's. Eaymond 
 bad foreseen. 
 
 ' Sister,' cried that lady, eagerly, ' if you 
 like to give me some money to spend on Olive, 
 I'll buy her some pretty evening dresses : Selina 
 has such vile taste.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 125 
 
 ' I am poor/ said Mrs. Ullatliorne, ' very 
 poor. Besides, who knows what calls I may 
 have on my money, or how long I have to be 
 here ? Sister, I sometimes think my time will 
 be very short. Miss Cochrane and I were at 
 Finchley Cemetery the other day — she went to 
 see some silly old woman's grave which she 
 wanted to shed a few tears over — I forget 
 whose, and it is no matter, but there is such a 
 pretty bit of ground there, in one corner — I 
 hke a corner to be buried in, and so IVe bought 
 it for myself, and who knows hoAv soon I shall 
 be lying in it? ' and ]\Irs. Ullatliorne hung her 
 head. 
 
 ' But that bit at Merrifield you got Vincent 
 to buy for you ! Have you forgotten that you 
 said you liked the idea of being buried near 
 some of the family, and I suppose we shall 
 have to be buried there when our time comes, 
 as Vincent is Squire.' 
 
 ' No, I've not forgotten ; I've changed my 
 mind, that's all,' said Mrs. Ullathorne grimly. 
 
 ' But you bought a bit at Bonchurch ; you 
 said that was the prettiest graveyard you had 
 ever seen.' 
 
126 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Well, so I did ; but I think I like better to 
 be nearer town, and I fancied this corner place. 
 If I have wasted my money. Sister Eaymond, 
 you need not mind — I don't suppose it will 
 make much difference to you — at least, your 
 boys will have to change a good deal before I 
 leave what I have to either of them.' And as 
 she said this, Mrs. Ullathorne, a grim, grey 
 woman with stony-looking features, sniffed con- 
 temptuously, and drew herself up in her high- 
 backed chair, and pitilessly watched the distress 
 of the fashionably dressed, but somewhat faded 
 little beauty of a sister, who had so much need 
 of this money of which they were speaking. 
 
 ' I am sure that both my boys are very 
 anxious to please you, they really are, if they 
 only knew how. Sister, it really is rather 
 difficult. I often wish you would speak plainly, 
 and tell me what it is that you want altered 
 in them.' 
 
 ' They want altering inside and out, before 
 they will suit me,' replied Mrs. Ullathorne. 
 
 ' But, at any rate, you don't like any of the 
 other nieces and nephews better ? ' 
 
 ' No, I detest all my nieces and nephews 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 127 
 
 but Olive, and I am not fond of her. Bat I 
 suppose I shall have to choose one of them for 
 my heir. I'll not make my will, though, till 
 I see the rest of Chesterfield's children ; how 
 many has he ? I declare I forget.' 
 
 ' Oh, you won't care for them ; you know 
 you don't like foreigners ; they must have been 
 ten years at Lausanne.' All Olive's younger 
 sisters had been brought up in a school at 
 Lausanne. 
 
 ' That's enough of itself to bring a curse on 
 Chesterfield's children,' said Mrs. Ullathorne. 
 ' That's just enough, without anything else.' 
 
 ' My dear ! ' gasped Mrs. Eaymond, sur- 
 prised to the top of her bent. 
 
 ' Don't my-dear me,' cried Mrs. Ullathorne ; 
 ' I am not in my dotage yet, to want petting. 
 Don't I know what I am talking about ? I am 
 quite aware of the value of words and of 
 thoughts too, which is more than some people 
 who shall be nameless are — what I mean is 
 this, and what I will maintain is this,' and here 
 Mrs. Ullathorne unconsciously adopted the tone 
 and manner of the clergyman under whom she 
 had sat the last time she was at church, and 
 
128 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 began to thump the table just as he had 
 thumped the cushion : ' that if our Maker for 
 His own wise purposes caused people suddenly 
 to begin to speak a variety of different lan- 
 guages, it was because. He did not wish them 
 to understand each other ; and if ever He had 
 changed his mind about it, and had thought 
 that they had better know what they were 
 saying to each other, it would have been very 
 easy for Him to make them all speak the same 
 language again. So, Sister Eaymond, what I 
 am maintaining, and will maintain, is this, that 
 when you begin to teach your children, your 
 sons and your daughters, to palaver in foreign 
 languages just as if they were natives, it is fly- 
 ing in the face of their Creator. The world 
 was made by design, and one of our Maker's 
 principal designs was that people should not 
 understand each other.' 
 
 Long as Mrs. Eaymond had known her 
 sister, she had never yet grasped the fact that 
 all her opinions were the outcome of an over- 
 powering desire to contradict everything that 
 was said to her. She had no fixed belief in 
 the theory for which she had just contended at 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 129 
 
 such length, and was capable of taking the 
 contrary line five minutes afterwards, as Mrs. 
 Eaymond quickly discovered when she joyously 
 exclaimed, 'My dear boys were plucked be- 
 cause their Greek and Latin were so bad, and 
 when they turned to modern languages they 
 did not get on a bit better ; both of them came 
 to grief just the same.' 
 
 ' Just like them ! ' cried Mrs. Ullathorne, 
 wheeling shamelessly round. ' Just exactly 
 what I should have expected of them ! The}^ 
 make their father pay a great sum to send them 
 to College to learn something, and when they 
 are there, can't be persuaded to open a book.' 
 
 ' But ' began Mrs. Eaymond. 
 
 ' Sister Eaymond, be quiet with your buts ; 
 let us get the dinner settled.' 
 
 The sincere and hearty impulse of everyone 
 invited to the Ullathorne dinner was to send 
 an excuse and escape it. Mr. Eaymond, who 
 well knew that his sister-in-law set her guests 
 down to an incendiary sherry and indigenous 
 champagne, prosaic food, and dull discourse, 
 hinted at a previous bachelor engagement ; but 
 that attempt at evasion was instantly quenched 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 by his wife, who thought him a lunatic to run 
 any risk of offending her rich sister. The two 
 young Eaymonds, however, flatly dechned to 
 go ; not even the prospect of a quarter of a 
 million of money, with added savings, would 
 tempt them, as they declared, to place them- 
 selves for so many hours under the shadow of 
 that great upas-tree of a woman who spread 
 desolation on all around her. They both de- 
 clared that they were more likely to get what 
 they wanted by staying away than by going, 
 but, in any case, eat that dinner of dismay and 
 dreariness they would not ! 
 
 Oh, the incredible dulness of that evening ! 
 No one dared to be himself — no one, indeed, 
 would have been allowed to be so for five 
 minutes. Each guest disapproved of the other 
 mentally and morally, and no topic was intro- 
 duced which had not been worn threadbare for 
 years. Selina, the gifted, shrank into herself. 
 Once she thought of making a study of the en- 
 tertainment, and of using it in a half-written 
 novel ; but Dr. Brooke had so emphatically 
 •ordered her to keep her pen from revelling in 
 the pecuharities of his family, that she dared 
 not disobey him. The Doctor was the only 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 131 
 
 one who said a good thing ; he told an excel- 
 lent story, and much he suffered for it after- 
 wards, for it was one on which his wife had set 
 her affections for her book, and she had begged 
 him not to use it. ' You might have left me 
 my story, Eichard ; you promised me that 
 you would,' said she. 
 
 ' I am sorry I forgot ; but mind you, Selina, 
 a clever wife makes a very stupid husband ! 
 You want everything for your novels ; you have 
 cramped my language for five years already, 
 with your " Do remember that, I want to use 
 that ; " " Be sure not to tell the other." When 
 will this tyranny be over-past ? ' 
 
 ' The story was too good for them ; I never 
 was so bore(^ in my life ! ' She was silent for 
 awhile, and then she cried, 'Eichard, do tell 
 me how long Mrs. Ullathorne will live. You, 
 as a doctor, cMig^ht to have some idea.' 
 
 ' Live ? Why ? What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' She would make my fortune if I could use 
 her, she would indeed. She is so preter- 
 naturally ill-tempered and disagreeable. She 
 would be admirable in the novel I am doing, 
 quite admirable.' 
 
132 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' And you want to know how long my sister 
 will live, in order to ' 
 
 ' Don't be angry, dear Eichard ; you know 
 everything ought to give way to art.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke screwed up his lips, and thought 
 that in his house most things did do so. 
 
 ' Is all going out like that ? ' asked poor 
 Ohve. 
 
 ' Don't ask me,' said Dr. Brooke, who was 
 ill and tired. ' All visiting bores me.' 
 
 ' Don't make me go to any more parties,' 
 said Olive ; ' I like home best.' So she did, 
 and gladly made herself useful to her aunt in 
 any -way she could. Many a long chapter of 
 ' The Fateful Fortnight's ' swiftly coming suc- 
 cessor was copied by her, and many a gap in 
 housekeeping filled by her, and no sigh was 
 given to society, for she judged society by what 
 she had seen at Mrs. UUathorne's. 
 
 Two or three weeks afterwards, Olive had 
 an opportunity of seeing another aspect of the 
 world and its ways. The Eaymonds were 
 going to the Derby. Mr. Eaymond was a mem- 
 ber of the Four-in-hand Club, and had made 
 up a party for the day, or rather, had let his 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 133 
 
 wife do so. Mrs. Eaymond at tlie last moment 
 persuaded Mrs. Brooke to allow Olive to go. 
 She was not sm^e that the Doctor would quite 
 approve of races for her, but Mrs. Eaymond 
 was his own sister, Epsom was in the country, 
 and Olive would breathe pure air, see country 
 lanes, and enjoy them ; so she went. She en- 
 joyed herself thoroughly, but when she was 
 relating all the adventures of the day to 
 her uncle and aunt late in the evening, no 
 sooner had she mentioned the names of some 
 members of the party, than Dr. Brooke started 
 to his feet, seized the poker, and broke into a 
 dozen splinters the large piece of coal wliich 
 was innocently reposing in the centre of the 
 fire in which he as an invalid indulged. Then 
 he exclaimed, ' Lady Norah Denistoun, did you 
 say? Mrs. Beevor Haynes? You are quite 
 sure of the names ? ' 
 
 ' Quite sure. Aunt Eaymond told me 
 them.' 
 
 ' And they went to Epsom with you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, uncle, why not ? ' 
 
 ' Why not ? But it is of no consequence ; 
 only, really, I should have thought your aunt 
 
134 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 Eaymond might have known better.' Then he 
 sat down again and was quiet, and did not 
 seem to hear the rest of OHve's story of her 
 day, and certainly did not hear Mrs. Brooke 
 say, ' Why, dear httle Ohve, you will turn out 
 a perfect godsend to me, for you shall tell me 
 all about these gay places and things, and help 
 me to no end of good descriptions/ If such 
 was her hope, it was cut short at once when 
 Olive went to bed. ' Selina,' said he, ' I am 
 master of this house, and I must assert my 
 position ; I insist on two things ; one is, that 
 you never again allow Olive to go anywhere 
 under my sister Eaymond's chaperonage ; and 
 the other is, that you at once renounce this 
 habit of shutting yourself up, and go out 
 sometimes in the evening with the child. If 
 it is right for her to go out, it is right she 
 should go under the care of a proper person. 
 Mind, I insist on it.' 
 
 ' But, Eichard, what does this mean ? ' 
 
 'It means that that fool or knave of a 
 
 woman Esther Eaymond has taken poor dear 
 
 Olive out for the day in the company of two 
 
 divorced women. I feel as if I could never 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 135 
 
 speak to her again ! ' Mrs. Brooke was shocked, 
 very much so ; but soon her prevaihng feehng 
 was, that it ' was a great pity OHve had gone 
 out at all, girls were best at home.' 
 
 ' No, no ! she is nineteen, and she ought to 
 see something of society. It is a duty we owe 
 to her, and it shall be performed ; but she shall 
 never again be exposed to meet such per- 
 sons. Esther Eaymond ought to be ashamed 
 of herself I ' 
 
 Esther Eaymond was not, and said, ' Vincent 
 asked them, but in society you meet all kinds 
 of people ; I am sorry about it, of course, but 
 it can't be helped now.' 
 
 ' You don't meet divorced women,' per- 
 sisted Dr. Brooke. 
 
 ' At any rate, you meet plenty of people 
 who ought to be divorced ; ' and then she 
 added that it was well known that Lady This 
 and Mrs. That were twice as bad as those poor 
 women Eichard was so angry about. She did 
 not approve of such women, of coio-se, but what 
 could she do ? However vague her feelings on 
 this point were, they were sharpened to keen 
 precision the moment Mrs. Ullathorne's name 
 
136 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 was mentioned, and she was asked what she 
 supposed Sister Ullathorne would think of it ? 
 
 ' Eichard ! ' cried she with painful eager- 
 ness. ' You surely will not be so unhandsome 
 as to tell her ! You would do me and mine 
 a serious injury if you did ! She has such ridi- 
 culously rigid ideas, poor woman ! ' 
 
 ' Her ideas are mine,' said Dr. Brooke 
 coldly. 
 
 ' We have no right to judge,' said the lady. 
 
 'Yes, we have, when the case has been 
 judged for us ; but I won't say anything to 
 Mary.' 
 
 ' Thark you. You are always kind.' 
 
 ' I don't know that. As long as I live, I 
 shall resent what you have done ! To take a 
 young, inexperienced girl — a girl situated, too, 
 as poor dear Olive is — to such a place, with 
 such a party ! ' 
 
 ' I was there,' said Mrs. Eaymond, thinking 
 that fact disposed of all objections ; but Dr. 
 Brooke could not see it. He went home and 
 confronted his wife in her den. 'Have you 
 any invitations for the evening, at present ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, numbers.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 137 
 
 ' Let me see some of them.' 
 
 ' Well, dear, yes ; but, you see, I hardly 
 know where they are. I generally use them to 
 write on.' And she turned over her papers, 
 and behold, fragments of her novel, ' The 
 Ominous Oath,' were scrawled over the backs 
 of invitations to dinners and evening parties. 
 
 ' But you answer these, I hope ? ' said the 
 doctor. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I answer them all in time ; in- 
 deed, those I write on are more likely to get 
 answers than those I put in the rack. They 
 catch my eye more.' 
 
 'Now, dear Selina, will you oblige me, 
 and, for the sake of doing your duty to my 
 brother's child, give up your " Ominous Oath," 
 or whatever your new novel may be, so far as 
 to accept two invitations weekly ? ' 
 
 ' Not dinners, Eichard ! ' said Mrs. Brookef 
 with a thrill of dread in her accents. 
 
 'No, not unless you hke — at least, not 
 dinners only. Siu"ely you, a woman of ability, 
 might make such things useful professionally.' 
 
 How Mrs. Brooke did enjoy those words ! 
 but, he might have said a woman of genius — 
 
138 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 ability was such a poor half-and-half word. 
 She soon remembered that he was her husband, 
 and therefore would not like to use such big 
 words when speaking of herself ; so she smiled 
 on his proposal, and began to say and think 
 that perhaps she had misused her opportunities. 
 
 ' Take her to concerts, theatres, and even- 
 ing parties. I am sure you have any amount 
 of invitations.' 
 
 ' And I may go where I like ? ' inquired 
 Mrs. Brooke. 
 
 ' Yes, you are not like Esther ; go where 
 you like.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 139 
 
 CHAPTEK Vni. 
 
 How singular is the thing called pleasure ! — Tempest. 
 Old fashions please me best. — Taming of the Shi-ew. 
 
 Mrs. Brooke did go where she hked, and very 
 soon she was surprised to find how much she 
 enjoyed herself. She picked and chose amongst 
 her cards of invitation, and by preference sought 
 the society of Hterary folks, painters, and mu- 
 sicians. 'When I have got all I want from 
 these,' said she, 'I will cultivate people of 
 another kind. I am rather afraid that Eichard 
 is right, and that I have narrowed my sphere 
 of experience too much.' She had led such a 
 secluded life, that she was intensely astonished 
 at all she saw now that she did begin to go 
 out ; but she found constant inspiration for her 
 pen and food for her thoughts. 
 
 ' Whither away, dear lady ? ' said her hus- 
 
140 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 band as she left the domestic hearth one even- 
 ing, no longer reluctant as of old. 
 
 ' Oh, to such a delightful party, Eichard — 
 oh, I am so glad I got an invitation ! You 
 ought to come with us — I know you would 
 enjoy it.' 
 
 This party was at the house of Messieurs 
 Willoughby and Langton, two of Mrs. Brooke's 
 favourite young poets, and no one was to be 
 there who was not either already distinguished 
 or certain to be so. There were poets, and 
 novelists, and artists, and musicians, and ladies 
 who looked as if they had walked out of pic- 
 tures (of a certain school, be it well under- 
 stood) ; but no man was to be seen who had 
 not, in the judgment of the hosts, made good 
 his claim to be of the select few dowered with 
 genius. Youth, however, was the predominating 
 feature of the party — youth and intense hope- 
 fulness. All were going to do great things. 
 Here were the men who had a year or so 
 before published the volumes of poems which 
 everybody spoke of at the time as so marvel- 
 lously full of promise, and on all sides were 
 heard whispers of the beauty of the poems they 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 141 
 
 were now writing. Some had seen the MS. of 
 Chfford's last sonnet. It was ' absolutely per- 
 fect ! ' A rondel by some one else was ' simply 
 too lovely ! ' ' xlnd Chesterton's play, did you 
 hear that, when he read it to a select few? 
 Well, there was no doubt of that making its 
 mark.' Then there were musicians who sat 
 down and sang you ballads of their own writing 
 set to music of their own composing, before 
 whom the path to undying fame seemed to 
 stretch itself forth, broad, smooth, and straight ; 
 and painters whose forthcoming pictures were 
 to revive the glories of the Turner and Sir 
 Joshua time. Some of the band had, it must 
 be confessed, met with slight reverses and dis- 
 couragements in their various branches of art, 
 which were to be naturally accounted for by 
 the jealousy and blindness of ' the dull and 
 commonplace men' who held the entrances to 
 the Temple of Fame, but the sujQTerers were too 
 young and too strong in hope to care for such 
 reverses, or to let them cast more than a passing 
 cloud on their lives. Their energy was un- 
 daunted, their trust in the future unwavering, 
 and their handsome faces were full of the pride 
 
142 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 of health and delight in the work which they 
 had set themselves to do. Edward Willoughby, 
 the elder host, had lavished worlds of thought 
 and fancy on the entertainment, which combined 
 all the beauties and singularities of the most 
 advanced Pre-Eaphaelite household, with a dash 
 of fairyland to lighten it. The floors were 
 covered with Indian matting and Persian rugs, 
 while a coarse sacking, gilded, stretched dado- 
 wise all round the walls, made a mellow back- 
 ground for Indian and Japanese cabinets and 
 low divans covered with gorgeous silks and 
 embroideries. To these divans each lady was 
 with much ceremony and respect led as she 
 entered the rooms ; and when she had taken a 
 seat, a heavy-headed flower was placed in her 
 hand, which she graciously held. Heavy- 
 headed, too, were the fair ladies who thus came 
 in, with hair frizzed and rolled, and twisted and 
 filleted with gold or silver, or parti-coloured 
 bands under which a few flowers were naively 
 stuck, in frank confidence in their own power 
 of either arranging themselves, or lending 
 adornment without any arrangement. Most of 
 these fair guests were clad in soft white or faint 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 143 
 
 blue or amber dresses freakishly made ; tio-lit 
 where other people would have had them loose, 
 or loose where it might have seemed more con- 
 venient to have them tight. They fell in pretty 
 folds, and looked creamy and delicate, and not 
 extravagant in the quantity of material used. 
 None of these ladies sat very upright ; all lounged 
 and lolled a little ; some stooped forward like 
 the water-lilies in their own hands when stalk 
 and stem began to grow limp. Some arranged 
 themselves in wistful and sentimental-looking 
 curves, which reminded — that is to say, would 
 have reminded anyone who did not enter into 
 the feeling of the assembly — of the letter S. All 
 had lovely fans, nearly all had necklaces, either 
 of spotted and poisonous looking beads, or flat 
 ones which seemed as if they had been lying 
 crushed out of shape for centuries in some far- 
 away and forgotten tomb, or else their necks 
 were encircled by beads of some strangely 
 tender blue-green or cloudy amber. 
 
 Langton and Willoughby had decorated the 
 rooms and settled how everything was to be ; 
 theirs was the idea that each lady on her arrival 
 was to be presented with a heavy-headed flower. 
 
144 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 First, tliey were to have water-lilies ; then, 
 when these drooped and failed, they were to 
 have tuhps, then clove carnations, and last of 
 all roses. Langton and Willoughby kept the 
 store of flowers and periodically went round 
 and renewed them, and as they took the dis- 
 carded flower from the ladies they threw it on the 
 floor. This was a strong point with them ; all 
 these flowers were manifestly to live and die for 
 their pleasure and that of their guests ; when done 
 with, they were to breathe out life at their feet. 
 Before anyone came, the floor had been 
 thickly strewn with rose-leaves, fair, pale pink 
 rose-leaves ; there they lay, and amongst them 
 were sprinkled carnations and pinks which gave 
 forth perfume when stepped on. Then upon 
 the ebony cabinets were glasses of eschscholt- 
 zias, all put there for the sake of seeing 
 them open their fiery golden hearts and then 
 droop lower and lower over the edge of the 
 glasses which held them, and die in the glow 
 of hght and heat which had at first made their 
 joy. The gentlemen of the party were to have 
 no chairs, or seats on the sofas ; cushions were 
 spread on the floor on which they might sit or 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 145 
 
 kneel, and they could bury their hands in the 
 cool, soft rose-leaves lying there and win scent 
 and refreshment from their touch. Having made 
 up their minds to give, for once, a party entirely 
 after their own Pre-Eaphaehte hearts, Willough- 
 by and Langton had not invited anyone who was 
 not hkely to enjoy the vagary of the moment to 
 its fullest extent. There were not more than 
 forty guests in all, and Mrs. Brooke was the only 
 person present who had any weight of years to 
 bear. She had made some effort to get an in- 
 vitation, and was loud in her admiration of all 
 she saw. It was perfect ! — And they must 
 allow her to describe the party in one of her 
 books, exactly as it had taken place. If Mr. 
 Willoughby or Mr. Langton said she must not 
 do so, she was afraid she could not help dis- 
 obeying them. It was impossible not to attempt 
 to describe a thing which made such a strong 
 impression as this did on her. She had heard 
 of ' treading out fragrance, breathing perfume,' 
 but she had never dreamed of such a realisation 
 of the poet's words as this. No wonder Mr. 
 Willoughby's verses and Mr. Langton's plays 
 were so full of colour and sweetness if this was 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 their ordinary way of living ! Did they always 
 live in this way ? It was too delightful ! For 
 her part, never again would she give any party 
 without having every carpet in the house so 
 thickly covered over with rose-leaves that no 
 one could see one thread of it ; and if roses were 
 not in season, she would have something else — 
 flowers of some sort she would have — that is, if 
 her husband would allow her. On this Miss 
 Poingdestre (the champion of more than one 
 cause which requires some energy and endurance 
 in its supporters, and who had strayed into this 
 party rather against the will of its donors) — 
 Miss Poingdestre, who balanced her flower in a 
 way which taxed all the resources of its stalk, 
 was heard to mutter her opinion that ' if a hus- 
 band had a voice in such a matter as that, it 
 was just hke the rest of the way the world was 
 
 managed, and the sooner ' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke never waited to hear the end 
 of that dark saying, she was far too happy to 
 be damped by Miss Poingdestre or twenty like 
 her, and she passed on from the flowers and the 
 leaves to some groups of fans and a long row of 
 plates transfixed in endless agony and made to 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 147 
 
 show their pattern to all beholders, whether 
 they would or no, held in the perpetual grasp 
 of wires. She marvelled at the quaintness of 
 their effect, and was heard to declare that, come 
 what might, she too would have fans and the 
 same arrangement of plates. Then she caught 
 sight of a bit of embroidery, and then she won- 
 dered where Olive was, for embroidery of this 
 kind would lend a grace to the dull Harley 
 Street study, and Olive's nimble fingers could 
 easily produce it ; but no Olive was at hand, 
 and Mrs. Brooke saw things on all sides which 
 made her forget she had wanted her. She 
 caught sight of another room where there was 
 a dado composed of tender wavy lines, which 
 to those present forcibly conveyed the idea of 
 water, in which were swimming fishes of all 
 sizes and shapes and markings, and here and 
 there a water-plant emerged, or a water-loving 
 insect hovered. The walls of this room were 
 the bluest of things green and the greenest of 
 things blue. There were no plates, no pictures, 
 no fans, but in a corner, so as to avoid all the 
 dark errors of a love of symmetry, or propor- 
 tion, or composition, flew a liost of white 
 L '2 
 
148 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 butterflies. They crossed the comer diagonally, 
 and were beautifully painted. ' How lovely ! ' 
 cried all. ' How decorative ! ' 'So rightly put 
 in ! ' ' There's a touch of genius in the boldness 
 of that design.' 
 
 ' You like the flutter-bugs, ma'am ? ' said an 
 American poetess who had just written some 
 verses on the beauty of one of the rivers of her 
 own land as it squirmed through meadows green. 
 
 ' Indeed I do,' replied Mrs. Brooke, nothing 
 daunted ; ' but all is charming ! And T have 
 been content with wall-paper at six shillings 
 the piece, put on by a man who asks for beer 
 if you peep in to see if it is going to look well.' 
 
 ' If you like rooms done up in this way,' 
 said Mr. Willoughby, ' why not get yours done? 
 Those Harley-street houses turn out very well. 
 You would have to change your furniture, but 
 you could soon do that. I can tell you of a 
 fellow in the Seven Dials who can let you have 
 a set of first-rate chairs. They are Chippendale, 
 and the finest I have seen for years, beautiful 
 without bombast — absolutely beautiful.' 
 
 ' Can I remember that ? ' thought poor be- 
 wildered Mrs, Brooke. ' I ought to have Olive 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 149 
 
 near me to help me to remember these things. 
 *' Beautiful without bombast " would make my 
 fortune, but I shall forget it, I know I shall. 
 Where is Ohve ? ' 
 
 She peeped through a chink between a gaunt 
 Chippendale stand for a flower-pot, which had 
 one tall arum on it, and a screen rescued from 
 some lumber-room to make the dehght of her 
 present hosts, and saw Olive talking to a good- 
 looking young man. She looked interested, 
 and Mrs. Brooke benevolently resolved to leave 
 her alone. 
 
 ' I am inclined to agree with you,' Olive's 
 new friend was saying. 'I think you are quite 
 right in feeling that if a picture is intended to 
 represent nature, it should be like nature. I 
 know Morrison holds that opinion, and I like 
 his pictures better than anyone else's.' 
 
 'Morrison! Willie Morrison!' cried Ohve 
 eagerly. And then she blushed deeply and 
 said, ' Oh, I beg your pardon. I was thinking 
 of a little boy I knew long ago.' 
 
 Mr. Denbigh — that was his name — smiled 
 and said, ' I believe my Mr. Morrison's name is 
 Wilham — indeed I am sure it is.' 
 
150 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 Olive breathed quickly. 
 
 ' You want to know if lie is the Mr. Morri- 
 son you used to know ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Olive ; ' I want to know — I am 
 most anxious to know — I will tell you why, 
 afterwards.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I can't give you much infor- 
 mation. I was introduced to my Mr. Morrison 
 two or three winters ago in Eome — he was 
 painting there. I was always expecting him to 
 catch Eoman fever and die ; for he used to 
 drive out across the Campagna every fine even- 
 ing to watch the sun set. That is a deadly 
 thing to do in winter, or indeed at any time. 
 I warned him, and he wouldn't be warned ; but 
 after all, I was the one who caught the fever — 
 not he, and he nursed me through it.' 
 
 ' You said drive out — the Willie Morrison 
 I knew was very poor.' 
 
 ' Oh, this one was not poor. I do not know 
 what he had, of course, but he lived in the same 
 way that everyone else did. He was an artist, 
 but he never sold pictures when he was there, 
 so he must have had money. He was a good 
 deal in society, though he did not care for it.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 151 
 
 ' It can't be the same,' said^ Olive sadly, for 
 her poor Wilhe was not likely to be spoken of 
 thus. ' Tell me what he was hke.' 
 
 ' He was good-looking, tall, had dark hair 
 and bright hazel eyes, and was about twenty, I 
 think, and that is some years ago.' 
 
 ' But it must be the one I knew — I really 
 think it is.' 
 
 Olive looked so interested that he said, ' I 
 will tell you more about him. Let me see. I 
 never knew anyone so fond of poetry — he wrote 
 beautiful poems himself.' 
 
 Ohve shook her head. 'No, it is not the 
 same. The one I knew was poor and not in 
 society, and hated poetry — positively hated it.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I can tell you no more,' said 
 Mr. Denbigh, ' except that he was a capital 
 fellow and very kind to me. My Morrison, for 
 so I call him to distinguish him from yours, 
 used to be thought an excellent artist in Eome ; 
 his work is not much known here, but he has 
 lately been made an Associate of the Old Water 
 Colour Society, so if you go to their gallery you 
 may see it.' 
 
 ' Where does he hve ? — In Han way Town ? ' 
 
15l> the leaden casket. 
 
 *• Hanway Town ? oh dear no ! Not that I 
 know where he does hve, though, for he is 
 always sitting on open moors and mountain 
 tops.' 
 
 ' And what are his relations like ? ' she asked 
 very humbly, dreading what the answer might 
 be. 
 
 ' I don't think he has any. I know he has 
 neither father, nor mother, nor brother, nor 
 sister. His name is William Keithley Morrison 
 • — I had forgotten that.' 
 
 ' That settles the question — I knew he was 
 not the same. The William Morrison I knew, 
 had no other name. He was poor and had a 
 poor father and mother. I knew him when I 
 was a very little girl long ago in a country 
 village, where my grandmother let me play 
 with him. I suppose I ought not to have played 
 with him, but it was very nice.' 
 
 He smiled, and she added, ' I ought to tell 
 you that I have never seen him since I was a 
 little girl of nine.' 
 
 ' It is a pity that I cannot help you to find 
 him again. My friend has some very marked 
 pecuHarities. He is a fellow who likes his 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 163 
 
 work better than most people like their play, 
 and grumbles when he has to go into society. 
 He ought to have been here to-night — perhaps 
 he is coming. Don't look startled.' 
 
 ' Don't let him know how I have questioned 
 you, if he does come. I have bored you with 
 it for nothing, for the moment you said he was 
 fond of poetry, I might have known he was not 
 my old friend.' 
 
 For weeks after this evening at Mr. Wil- 
 loughby's, Mrs. Brooke did nothing but bring 
 sap-green things and sage-green things, and 
 tiny pieces of rigid furniture into Dr. Brooke's 
 house. Wall-papers of this soothing mildness 
 of colour, with botanical specimens printed on 
 them to enliven them a little, were stretched on 
 walls which had hitherto known only French 
 papers of satin sheen and golden lustre. All 
 the curtains and cornices, together with the 
 festoons and cords and tassels thereto appertain- 
 ing, were torn down and replaced by plain 
 poles from which depended severe lines of 
 crushed velvet, sap-green serge, or even rural 
 Bolton sheeting. Then came a change as com- 
 plete as that which annually befalls the pictures 
 
154 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 in the Salon. All the drawing-room furniture 
 was sent up to the garrets and the nurseries, and 
 the garrets and nurseries were rifled for chairs, 
 tables, and corner cupboards, which were now 
 discovered to be perfect in taste, though years 
 before they had been consigned to these distant 
 regions with contemptuous wonder at the ugli- 
 ness of the things the Brookes contrived to 
 leave behind them when they died. Unmanage- 
 able sideboards and sofas now once more 
 stretched their huge length along the rooms 
 below ; backless seats offered their hospitality 
 to admiring guests. Pictures which had been 
 wrought by the aged Brooke grandmother in 
 her childhood now came to great honour ; a 
 line engraving copied touch for touch in black 
 thread on white linen once more saw the light, 
 and was called ' highly interesting ; ' while an 
 angel rising heavenwards with its face and 
 hands painted in water-colours, and the rest of 
 it embroidered in white silk, was brought down- 
 stairs again, and once more soared where it 
 could be seen. Hand-screens, fire-screens, and 
 ' bell-pulls ' worked a hundred years before, and 
 hidden out of sight for fifty, enjoyed a new life. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 155 
 
 and on all sides was heard the cry of ' New 
 lamps for old ones.' Meanwhile Mrs. Brooke 
 was as busy as a swallow, which eats, drinks, 
 bathes, and feeds her young, flying. She 
 superintended all these changes herself, writing 
 a passionate page, and then hurrying away with 
 all speed to see that no mistake was made in 
 her furnishing, then back to her pen, only to be 
 summoned from it to watch her floors being 
 stained, or to meet some gentleman in solemn 
 consultation in order to find ways and means to 
 cope with the difficulties of corniced ceilings 
 and white marble mantel-pieces. The work 
 progressed;, purchases were many, and soon 
 every corner of the rooms became almost unin- 
 habitable by reason of small overtiu^nable tables 
 and tall stands with what Mrs. Brooke believed 
 to be priceless china on them. Dr. Brooke had 
 at first been much pleased to see his wife ' come 
 to her senses and go out ; ' but every time she 
 went out she came home with some new idea, 
 and all her ideas were so large, and took shape 
 with such promptitude and decision, that he was 
 appalled. 
 
 ' My dear,' he sometimes said ruefully, ' re- 
 
166 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 member that I am not a rich man. Who is 
 to pay the bill?' 
 
 ' I'll pay the bill, Eichard. I have just dis- 
 covered that we can sell the dining-room 
 mantel-piece — great big, ugly thing that it is — 
 to a man who is collecting for France. We 
 can get 200/. for it. The mantel-piece will pay 
 the bills, dear.' 
 
 'The mantel-piece is expected to pay its 
 own weight of bills, I see,' observed Dr. Brooke, 
 drily, and turned on his heel ; but he came 
 back to say, ' Where are my pictures ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't regret your pictures ; I have 
 been forced to send them into the back bed- 
 room. They are not decorative — they quite 
 throw the tone of the room out of harmony.' 
 
 ' I should like to know what you mean to 
 hang up that will look better than my Turners 
 and Fronts.' 
 
 ' Only wait, dear ; you will see ; I am sure 
 you will approve. I mean to treat myself to a 
 few Fersian and Ehodian plates, and hang them 
 on the walls ; we can afford them, you know, if 
 we sell the mantel- piece, and they will look jolly.' 
 
 ' " Jolly ! " dear.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 157 
 
 ' Yes, that's the right word to use. Pro- 
 fessor Saville used it to me only last^'night.' 
 
 ' About plates, Selina ? ' 
 
 'No, about pictures. He said the Botti- 
 celHs at Burlington House last winter were 
 extremely jolly ; but it is right to use it in 
 speaking of china as well.' 
 
 ' Well, you'll tire of all this, I hope,' said 
 Dr. Brooke, and departed. His house was not 
 the only thing which was changed. Mrs. 
 Brooke dressed herself artistically. Sometimes 
 she was a mature Mary Queen of Scots, some- 
 times a Catherine de Medicis with a forbidding 
 and murderous hood. Then Olive was made 
 to wear skimp, limp, Indian muslins, and Mrs. 
 Brooke sent down to Aunt Lettice for all the 
 old buckles and combs and waistbands and 
 lace fichus that could be found hngering in the 
 lumber-room at Austerfield, and attired in these 
 she went out. Mr. Ambergreen painted her in 
 the contorted attitude of a mediaeval saint, and 
 the picture was sent to the Dudley Gallery, 
 and was hung beside other damsels of the 
 same kind and much applauded, and Mr. 
 Ambergreen helped Mrs. Brooke to find her 
 
168 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 way into the inner recesses of shops in Han way- 
 Street where she bought all kinds of antique 
 ornaments of small intrinsic value but great 
 strangeness, and these were hung about Olive 
 with marked success, and wherever they went 
 these were discussed and admired. Olive, too, 
 was much admired, but not so much as these 
 uncouth decorations, and both she and Mrs. 
 Brooke were perfectly happy. Dr. Brooke 
 was not so happy. He began to think that 
 the last state of Selina his wife was worse 
 than the first. He did not like the rigid 
 outlines of his new home. He did not like 
 the ladies of his household to make such frights 
 of themselves. He had an affection for his old 
 engravings and dignified water-colours ; he did 
 not think that china plates were ever intended 
 to be hung up as pictures, or feel that they 
 supplied enough food for his eye's worship. 
 He hated cliquism and collectors' talk, which 
 always ends by dwelling on prices paid, and 
 bores you to death by its sameness. He remon- 
 strated with his wife. Nothing checked Mrs. 
 Brooke. She even went down on her knees 
 to show the maids how to polish a floor. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 169 
 
 ' Surely you might employ your time better, 
 Selina,' said he one day when he found her 
 doing this. 
 
 ' I know you think I ought to be writing,' 
 said the gifted lady (Dr. Brooke made a wry 
 face) ; ' but manual labour promotes the flow 
 of ideas. Euskin and I both think that, and 
 Charlotte Bronte too : she said that she never 
 wrote so well as she did after she had been 
 black-leading a grate.' 
 
 ' There is a lady in the drawing-room who 
 wishes to see you, ma'am,' said the servant, 
 coming in at this moment. 
 
 ' Who is it ? ' asked Mrs. Brooke. John 
 did not know. The lady had asked if Mrs. 
 Brooke was at home, had come in, and had 
 refused to give her name. She was young and 
 pleasant-looking, and seemed to know the 
 family. 'You go, Olive,' said Mrs. Brooke. 
 ' I want to see this bit of work done, for after 
 to-day I can spend no more time on this room 
 — I ought to be writing.' 
 
 ' But look at my dress,' said Olive. ' It is 
 not fit to be seen. It is dreadfully tumbled 
 with kneeling on the floor.' She was rubbing 
 
160 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 the floor with a silk handkerchief. Mrs. Brooke 
 thought that better economy than ' employing 
 so many men to do things.' Her dress was 
 made of the butcher-blue linen which Hel- 
 bronner sells. It fitted . her as Pre-Eaphaelite 
 dresses do. It was long and plain, and con- 
 fined only by a band fastened by one of Aunt 
 Lettice's old buckles. Artists admired it, 
 and liked her hair as it was in a bushy fuzz, 
 but the taste and fashion of the day were dead 
 against them ; but that makes it sweet to wear 
 such raiment. 
 
 ' Oh, go as you are — ^you look very nice, 
 and people have no right to come so early ! ' 
 said Mrs. Brooke, who steadily refused to 
 disturb herself. Olive ran down. A very fair, 
 smooth-complexioned, light-haired, blue-eyed, 
 calm-looking, and still handsome woman of 
 seven or eight-and-thirty rose to meet her as 
 she entered doubtfully, for lady visitors were 
 rare at 350 Harley Street. The stranger smiled 
 encouragingly, stepped forward gracefully, took 
 Olive in her arms, pressed her soft cheek against 
 hers by way of bestowing a kiss, and said, ' Dear 
 child, you do not know me — I am your mother.' 
 
THE LEADEy CASKET. 161 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Are these the breed of wits so wondered at ? 
 
 Love's Lahour^s Lost. 
 
 Olive at once ran to tell Mrs. Brooke, and Mrs. 
 Brooke at once hurried to the doctor. ' Eichard/ 
 said she in an urgent voice, ' Chesterfield's wife 
 is here ! here in the drawing-room with Olive ! 
 I am just going to her, but please promise me 
 not to invite her to stay with us.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke looked as if he heard a sin- 
 gularly unwelcome bit of news. He seemed 
 bewildered, and as if his thoughts were in the 
 past rather than the present. 'I invite her, 
 Selina ! ' said he at length. 
 
 ' Well, don't, dear, that's all ! I could not 
 have her here. I should not get a stroke of 
 work done if she were here.' 
 
 A loud peal of the bell warned Dr. Brooke 
 that he had no time for home life ; l^ut what 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 was his surprise at luncheon-time to find that 
 Selina herself had invited Lady Brooke to stay 
 with her until she had either found rooms or a 
 house ! Lady Brooke, in the quietest and 
 most natural manner possible, had conveyed to 
 Mrs. Brooke that she thought it a privilege 
 even to speak to a woman who had written 
 ' The Fateful Fortnight,' not to mention 
 ' Evelyn's Entanglement ' and ' The Ominous 
 Oath.' Lady Brooke could allude to scenes 
 and quote passages, and relate how the 
 Governor-General had made her pretty speeches 
 about being connected by marriage with such a 
 popular author, and then she could dwell on 
 the pleasure it had given her to see the reading 
 folks in India reveUing in these books and to 
 find them even in Ceylon when she went there 
 for a change. Lady Brooke asked to see the 
 study where her dear Selina wrote, condoled 
 with her on the interruptions of her daily life, 
 ;;and said what a privilege she should esteem it 
 if she could but be near her to ward ofi* some 
 >of these attacks on her peace, and sometimes be 
 rewarded by hearing a freshly- written chapter 
 read for the first time. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 163 
 
 ' Oh, thank you,' cried Mrs. Brooke ; ' not 
 many women are hke you. As a rule, they 
 take upon themselves to despise me! In fact, 
 the very worst of novel-writing is, that every 
 silly woman of your acquaintance, who could not 
 produce a book even to save her hfe, considers 
 that she is your superior because she does not 
 try to do it.' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke w^as a good deal won over by 
 her sister's sympathy, and as she was thoroughly 
 Avarm-hearted and liberal, and, besides that, 
 often in want of a listener, she ended by saying, 
 '- But do come here. Do stay here until you 
 have some settled place of residence.' 
 
 Lady Brooke explained that she had left her 
 husband for a while because of her health. 
 She had paid a flying visit to Lausanne and 
 her girls, had slept one night in Paris, and had 
 not written because she wanted to take Olive 
 by surprise, but now she was going to stay in 
 London for a while — perhaps even for a year. 
 ' The worst is, dear, that I am not well pro- 
 vided with this world's wealth,' said she^ 
 ' Chesterfield gave me some hundreds, and 
 would have given me any sum I liked, but I 
 
164 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 had not the heart to let him waste his money 
 on me.' 
 
 ' You Avon't take OHve from us ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I must. I should like to go 
 into society a little with her, and then, I trust, 
 she will see some one whom she can love and 
 marry.' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke sighed and said, ' I have been 
 taking her into society. I have chosen what I 
 think you will agree with me in preferring to 
 any other — that of writers and painters.' 
 
 Did Lady Brooke make a wry face? If 
 she did, Mrs. Brooke did not see it, and Lady 
 Brooke made haste to say, ' Oh, charming ! I 
 am so glad you have taken her among people 
 worth knowing, the only people, in fact, who 
 are worth knowing. We in India have little 
 chance of seeing any interesting folks of this 
 kind. We have newspaper correspondents now 
 and then, or a man comes to see the sun do 
 something or other ; but except these we have 
 nothing beyond our usual set. It is a great 
 loss ! ' 
 
 ' But,' said Mrs. Brooke innocently, * if you 
 care about society of this kind, why not go 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 165 
 
 with us to the Millennium Club? You will 
 see everyone there. There is a great mixture, 
 of course, and the entertainment is rather 
 rough, but everyone there is somebody.' Then 
 Mrs. Brooke explained that the Millennium was 
 a club of very advanced thinkers indeed, who 
 five or six times a year invited ladies to their 
 meetings and gave them oysters and sauterne, 
 or the more potent beverage of brandy and 
 soda-water. Lady Brooke's eyebrows arched 
 themselves a little, but she seemed very enthu- 
 siastic about going. ' And now,' said Mrs. 
 Brooke, 'as John has taken a cab to bring 
 your maid and your luggage, come into my 
 study. We shall be alone all the afternoon, so 
 I can make a good beginning and read you the 
 novel I am now busy with. No one is likely to 
 interrupt us ; besides, I will take measures to 
 prevent it.' 
 
 ' That ^vill indeed be delightful ! ' cried 
 Lady Brooke, who began to repent having 
 accepted her sister-in-law's hospitality. ' Quite 
 too dehghtful ! ' Nature has a way of stepping 
 in when the human frame is undergoing a pain 
 which is too much for its power of endurance, 
 
166 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 and rescuing us from its clutch by a timely fit 
 of unconsciousness. Lady Brooke may have 
 slept a little ; she could not have slept much, 
 for Mrs. Brooke, when reading, had a trick of 
 darting a glance in search of sympathy straight 
 into the eyes of her hstener when any especially 
 admirable passage occurred, and in her estima- 
 tion this was frequently the case. They sat till 
 dinner, and then, alas ! when, worn out and 
 feeble, listener and reader sat down for phy- 
 sical refreshment, the fish was not boiled, 
 because the man had just brought it ten minutes 
 before the dinner-hour. Mrs. Brooke had for a 
 fortnight been going to scold him for his un- 
 punctuahty, and had always forgotten. The 
 meat, too, was half-roasted, because cook had 
 only got a fire at all by brushing up the last 
 shovelful of dust in the coal-cellar and using 
 that in combination with some dozens of fire- 
 wood which had been got in in a large quantity 
 as a measure of economy. Mrs. Brooke had 
 omitted to order coals. Then the pudding 
 had not set because there was no heat in the 
 oven, and finally a cheese soufilet came up 
 looking in no wise different from a badly made 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET 167 
 
 baked batter pudding, ' and all because the 
 pore cook was so flustered like,' said John. 
 Dr. Brooke! pushed his plate away and said 
 it was not wanted. He was cross with his 
 wife, but presently he' had to go away to a 
 meeting. 
 
 ' Such things will happen,' said Mrs. Brooke 
 suavely. She considered it very unworthy of 
 people capable of immortality (by means of 
 literature) to care much for creature comforts. 
 ' I am not too tired to go on with our reading, 
 Honora,' said she, ' if you are not too tired to 
 listen ? ' 
 
 ' I could hsten for ever,' said Honora, and 
 they went to the study. Olive went off to the 
 piano in the drawing-room : she knew her 
 aunt's works by heart. 
 
 It was late before the reading was over. 
 * Later than it ought to have been,' said Mrs. 
 Brooke, ' for we have to breakfast at eight. I 
 am sorry for you, but you see you have come 
 to stay with working folks.' 
 
 Next morning, Lady Brooke — who perhaps 
 found eight o'clock rather early — sent a message 
 to her hosts to say that, as she had a headache. 
 
168 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 she would stay where she was — in bed, and 
 would only take a cup of tea. 
 
 She had her wish, and presently Mrs. 
 Brooke came with her MS. 'I don't mind 
 giving up the morning to read to you, dear, if 
 you think it will amuse you.' 
 
 ' How truly kind ! ' said Lady Brooke. 
 ' You won't mind my lying with my eyes shut ? 
 The light rather hurts them, you know.' 
 
 She did keep them rather tightly shut ; an 
 unfeeling enemy might have said that she was 
 asleep. So it went on all day, more or less. 
 Joys were rare, unless listening to MS. novels 
 was one. 
 
 'What about the Millennium?' said Mrs. 
 Brooke. ' Honora, are you well enough to 
 go?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, thank you,' said Lady Brooke, for 
 she knew that if she did not, Mrs. Brooke 
 would stay at home and read to her. 
 
 ' We won't be particular about dinner, as 
 Eichard is going out,' continued Mrs. Brooke. 
 
 Lady Brooke, judging from the evening 
 before, thought that she was not very particular 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 169 
 
 when he was in. She sighed gently, for it 
 was pleasanter when people were particular. 
 
 ' How shall I dress, dear Selina ? I did get 
 a couple of dresses made while I was staying 
 in Paris ; but they are very plain ones.' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke did just notice that there was 
 a slight discrepancy between the fact that Lady 
 Brooke had had time to get two dresses made 
 in Paris, and the other fact, previously commu- 
 nicated, that she had only slept there one night 
 to rest a little ; but Mrs. Brooke was a very 
 good, unsuspicious woman, and thought there 
 was a mistake somewhere ; so she only said, 
 'You can wear anything at the Millennium. 
 When Sister Ullathorne uses that carriage of 
 hers, which is seldom, she always says she puts 
 on a halfpenny head and a farthing tail, for no 
 one sees her skirts. That's the right way to do 
 at the Millennium, for no one likes to be too 
 well dressed there. You see, the people drop 
 bits of biscuit and sandwiches about, and throw 
 glasses of wine over you ; it is such a crowd, 
 and your dress gets so marked, it is spoilt. 
 Put on an old black dress. That's what I do.' 
 That is what Mrs. Brooke did, and her 
 
170 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 sister-in-law did not like the effect ; and when 
 Olive came down in the last lunacy in artistic 
 attire, Lady Brooke shrank back in horror. It 
 was a horror which was speechless, or she 
 would have said, ' You are not going out such 
 a fright as that, child ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, isn't it lovely ! ' cried Mrs. Brooke, 
 wholly misunderstanding the effect produced. 
 ' I never saw a sweeter bit of colour than she 
 is, and so artistic! I like those puffy sleeves 
 immensely.' 
 
 ' Only, they are not puffy enough,' said 
 Olive. ' What is the use of having puffy 
 sleeves, if they are not pujffier than everyone 
 else's ? 
 
 ' But,' cried Lady Brooke, ' do people wear 
 dresses of that kind ? I saw nothing hke them 
 in Paris.' 
 
 ' The really artistic people wear them. 
 Olive has a dress you will like far better than 
 this. It cost nothing at all but the price of a 
 little silk for the pipings. It is made out of 
 two old scarves of her grandmother's, and 
 whenever she puts it on you have no idea how 
 it is admired. There never was a time when it 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 171 
 
 was so easy to dress. You really can wear 
 anything.' 
 
 ' But,' said Lady Brooke aghast, ' are you 
 really going out in that — that dress? Won't 
 people stare ? ' 
 
 ' Oh dear, yes ! but when one knows how 
 beautiful the dress is ' 
 
 'You see, I am fresh from an outlandish 
 coimtry,' said Lady Brooke, who felt ready to 
 sink into the earth with dismay. 
 
 At first sight the Millennium did not seem 
 a place likely to be especially haunted by the 
 Muses. You entered a low doorway in a wide 
 and fashionable street, and made your way up 
 a narrow paved court. Then you climbed a 
 steep flight of stairs, and when you were half- 
 way up you heard the croaking roar of the hu- 
 man voice in brisk general conversation. The 
 club room was quite full. Well-dressed and 
 ill-dressed people crowded beneath the large 
 centre gaseher — most of them standing. Pretty 
 women and clever men were there in plenty ; 
 Liberal M.P.s ; exiled Communists to whom 
 the right hand of fellowship • had been freely 
 extended ; leader-writers ; essayists ; poets. 
 
172 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 young and old ; men who wrote in ' Mind,' 
 and women who read 'The World,' together 
 with ladies who wanted to have a share in 
 managing it ; reviewer and reviewed, — all 
 rubbing shoulders, and talking as if talk were 
 the first object of their existence. 
 
 ' Oh, good Heavens ! ' ejaculated Lady 
 Brooke, as, half-deafened with the din and 
 fainting with the heat, she sank into a chair 
 which had lost a foot. 
 
 ' Isn't it pleasant ? ' said Mrs. Brooke joy- 
 ously. ' I'll tell you who all the people are. 
 It is a very good gathering to-night, I can see.' 
 
 ' Most striking faces ! ' said poor Lady 
 Brooke. 
 
 ' Yes ; you do not often get so many 
 remarkable people together in the same room.' 
 
 Lady Brooke groaned inwardly, for the 
 noise utterly bewildered her ; but she com- 
 posed her features to the semblance of a decent 
 smile. 
 
 ' Honora,' said Mrs. Brooke presently, ' do 
 you know that there are seven men in this 
 room who are under sentence of death — -ex- 
 Communists, you know ! ' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 173 
 
 Lady Brooke's most fervent wish was that 
 some one would quickly come and see that 
 the sentence was carried out. ' Indeed, dear ! ' 
 she said drearily. It was getting too much for 
 her. She took a practical view of life. She 
 had a daughter to marry, and did not want to 
 select an ex-Communist, or any of the people 
 whom she saw there, unless they were better 
 off than they appeared to be. 
 
 ' Who is that talking to Olive ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Sir John Ellerton,' said Mrs. Brooke, and 
 looked another way as if nothing more could be 
 said. 
 
 Lady Brooke did not think so. 
 
 'He seems to enjoy his conversation with 
 her,' she continued. 
 
 ' He always does. There is nothing in him, 
 though ; he is very stupid.' 
 
 ' But is he one of the Yorkshire Ellertons ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * But they are all very rich? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I fancy this young fellow has a very 
 large fortune. I am very glad of it, for, poor 
 fellow, he has nothing else to boast of 
 
 Lady Brooke was one of those persons who. 
 
174 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 when they hear of anything good which seems 
 within their reach, immediately try to see if a 
 little of it cannot be induced to flow into a 
 channel which will benefit themselves. She 
 thought Selina an apathetic idiot, but she did 
 not say so. Her eyes turned to Olive and her 
 companion. They were three chairs off. 
 
 ' Selina, we ought to know something of a 
 young man who talks so much to Olive. Is 
 he ' 
 
 ' Oh, he is a very good sort of fellow, but 
 so dull — at least, so unintellectual. He wanted 
 me to ask him to something or other at our 
 house, but I had not the courage. We should 
 have been bored to death. Eich people are 
 always stupid, I think.' 
 
 Lady Brooke ran her eye meditatively over 
 her sister-in-law's face. Here was a woman 
 with a full complement of senses acting hke an 
 idiot. The sight was so curious to her that she 
 lingered over it a moment before saying, 
 
 ' Introduce me to him, dear. Let me see 
 what he is like for myself.' 
 
 Sir John EUerton, a clear, bright-eyed, 
 handsome Saxon, looked kindly in the face of the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 175 
 
 lady who was, as Olive's mother, so interesting 
 to him. He found a thousand things to say to 
 her which Mrs. Brooke would have cut short in 
 a moment as trivial and dull. Lady Brooke 
 thought his conversation as good as anyone 
 else's, and was very glad he did not talk of 
 books and book-makers. He had plenty to say, 
 though he did not discourse on high matters ; 
 and he was evidently a good, warm-hearted 
 fellow, and, what was still more important to 
 her, he had taken a great fancy to Olive. 
 What was to be done .^ If only Lady Brooke 
 had a house of her own, or even rooms to which 
 she could invite him, she would soon see that 
 this affair came to a proper and profitable con- 
 clusion ; even now she heard him fishing for an 
 invitation from the obtuse or obdurate Selina, 
 with a persistence which that lady totally disre- 
 garded ; and if she herself gave one, or found 
 an excuse for bringing him to call, there would 
 be a troop of high-art decorators in the only 
 room at hberty for his reception, or Selina 
 would tell her servant, ' Not at home to anyone 
 to day, John ; I can't be disturbed on any 
 account whatever.' 
 
176 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Did you not see that that young man was 
 doing his best to get your leave to call ? ' said 
 she. 
 
 ' Yes, I fancied he wanted an invitation ; 
 but what is the use of letting him come to our 
 house? — we are not in his way.' 
 
 ' But suppose he has a fancy for Olive ? ' 
 
 ' What a pity it would be I I am sure she 
 would never care for him.' 
 
 Lady Brooke shrugged her shoulders. She 
 wished she had money enough to hire a nice 
 house at once. She had been two days with 
 her sister-in-law, and did not think she could 
 bear to stay many more. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 177 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Had I but plenty of money, money enougli and to spare, 
 The house for me, no douht, were a house in the city square. 
 
 Egbert Beowning. 
 
 Many who keep their chambers are not sick. 
 
 Tinion of Athens. 
 
 ' May I come in ? ' said Lady Brooke next day 
 as she tapped at the door of the sacred study. 
 ' I have not come to disturb you, dear Sehna ; I 
 would not run the risk of spoihng a chapter 
 for the world. I have only come to say that I 
 am going to pay my respects to Mrs. Ullathorne, 
 and I want to beg you to be very careful if you 
 see her, for — don't be shocked ! — I am not 
 going to tell her that I have been in London 
 since Tuesday evening. I shall let her think I 
 came yesterday. I won't exactly say I did, 
 you know : but I dare not confess to Tuesday, 
 when I have kept away from her until to-day, 
 and it is Friday. She woukl never forgive me.' 
 Mrs. Brooke looked as if she did not under - 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 Tim LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 stand. She was not a manoeuvring woman, and 
 she was deep in a thrilhng scene. 
 
 ' I only came to ask you not to betray me if 
 anything is said. I dare not offend Mrs. 
 UUathorne, Chesterfield would never forgive 
 me if I did,' added Lady Brooke. 
 
 ' I never see her,' said Mrs. Brooke. ' At 
 least, very seldom. She won't ask me when 
 you came.' 
 
 ' Well, leave it vague if she does. I must 
 go. I wish I could stay with you. I should 
 like nothing better than to sit down, pen in hand, 
 and let you dictate to me some of the beautiful 
 thoughts I can see your mind is full of. Good- 
 bye. I won't waste more of your time. I wish 
 Mrs. Ullathorne would take it into her head to 
 go into the country, and let me have that nice 
 house of hers rent-free.' 
 
 ' I wish she would,' thought Doctor Brooke 
 who came in at this moment and heard the 
 aspiration. He did not hke Lady Brooke. 
 He had been a changed man since she came into 
 the house — watchful, constrained, and silent. 
 
 ' What do you want, dear ? ' said Mrs. 
 Brooke, when alone with Iier husband ; ' I am in 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 179 
 
 the middle of something so important, and do 
 so want to get on. Honora thinks she does 
 not disturb me, but she does.' 
 
 ' You won't have Honora long. You heard 
 her say that she wished to have Mrs. Ullathorne's 
 house, and depend upon it, if that is the case, 
 she will soon have it. Honora has an odd knack 
 of getting her own way. If you were a wise 
 woman, Sehna, you would not go on spinning 
 characters out of your own brain when you 
 have that woman in the house to study from. 
 She is wily, insinuating, unfathomable — I wish 
 she was out of my house ! ' 
 
 ' Oh dear Eichard, how wrong you are ! 
 " wily, insinuating, unfathomable." She is as 
 simple-minded and straightforward a woman as 
 I have ever seen, quite natural and open — she 
 has a kind manner, that's all. I am a novel- 
 writer, and have to study character, so I ought 
 to know. I can't think what makes you take 
 against her so ; besides when she does go, she 
 will take Olive with her ; don't forget that.' 
 
 Dr. Brooke sighed and said, ' This has come 
 so suddenly. I knew we should have to part 
 with Olive some day, but one does not hke to 
 
180 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 give her up to that woman ; it is a sin to let 
 her have the keeping of the child — a sin and a 
 shame. I have a great mind to resist it.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! And, Eichard, you are un- 
 just to her ; she is very kind, and ' 
 
 Dr. Brooke would not listen to any praise 
 of Honora ; he ran away without explaining the 
 business that had brought him, and Mrs. 
 Brooke sighed and said to herself, ' If only 
 husband, and house, and children, and friends 
 would abate their tormenting power for one 
 short half-year, I could write a book which 
 would prove that I had a perfect right to ask to 
 have my time to myself ; but it is of no use to 
 wish for such a thing.' 
 
 Lady Brooke went straight to Mrs. Ulla- 
 thorne's, and as she drove up the Bayswater 
 Eoad her eyes rested longingly on the hand- 
 some houses which rear their tall height by its 
 side, and her mind was filled with visions of 
 all that she could do if one of these were but 
 placed at her disposal for a time with a suitable 
 income. ' How the want of money checks one 
 at every turn ! ' thought she. ' And I dare say 
 the people who live in these houses, and have 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 181 
 
 more of it than they know how to spend, don't 
 make one half quarter so much use of their 
 chances as I should/ The Lancaster Gate 
 houses were rather large, but still she could 
 have made one do ; the Saint Catherine's Villas 
 were rather small, but not too small for a 
 clever managing woman like herself. ' It 
 would be such a comfort,' thought she, ' if I 
 could marry off Olive while I am here. It 
 would put an end to all Chesterfield's worrying. 
 I must make a great effort to do so. I do not 
 see why there should be any difficulty about it. 
 She is very pretty, and people seem to find her 
 charming. I wonder she has not got engaged 
 long since. It w^ould have been curious enough 
 to see the husband Selina would have chosen for 
 her. I should most likely have had to dismiss 
 him.' While occupied by these thoughts, she 
 reached Kensington Square. A sulky-looking 
 parlour-maid opened the door and took her up- 
 stairs. Mrs. Ullathorne was sitting on one side 
 of the fire and Miss Cochrane on the other. 
 They were talking in a very excited manner 
 about something or other, and one — the one who 
 dared to do it — turned an irate eye on Lady 
 
182 THE LEADEN CASKET 
 
 Brooke for thus disturbing them. ' My dear 
 sister Mary,' cried Lady Brooke, ' I have not lost 
 a moment in coming to you. Chesterfield said, 
 " See all my family, Honora, but see my sister 
 Mary first." Poor Chesterfield ! He does not 
 forget.' 
 
 ' Oh indeed ! ' said Mrs. Ullathorne. ' So 
 you are here. Lady Brooke ! Well, why have 
 you left your husband ? 
 
 'My health gavu v^ay. Sooner or later, 
 everyone feels that Indian climate. But I shall 
 not stay long in England, I shall soon rejoin my 
 husband.' 
 
 Two or three inquiries followed, but Mrs. 
 Ullathorne evidently took little or no interest in 
 Chesterfield or in the state of his wife's health. 
 ' You look radiant,' said she, resolved to treat the 
 matter exhaustively ; ' you say you are ill, but 
 here in England, when people say they are ill, 
 they don't look like that. Now, I am ill, really 
 ill, and am likely to be worse — much worse. 
 Troubles and vexations vexations and troubles, 
 and people taking a pjirt against me who ought 
 to be the very first to stand between me and 
 all annoyance ' — here she darted a crushing 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 183 
 
 glance at Miss Cochrane. ' It's the way of the 
 world, I suppose ; I was always told that if I 
 wanted to be ill-treated, the best way to secure 
 what I wanted was to be very kind to some 
 one, for the people you were the kindest to 
 were always the first to turn against you ! I 
 never believed it before, but now I see it is true.' 
 
 ' It is not true ! ' cried Miss Cochrane. 
 ' You are unjust to me.' 
 
 'I am not unjust. I am ill-used and 
 worried and driven out of my very senses by 
 servants and all the vexation that having them 
 implies, and you. Miss Cochrane, you always 
 take a part against me — you are always on the 
 servants' -side, that you are ! ' 
 
 Miss Cochrane began to weep silently ; 
 Mrs. UUathorne looked angrily at her and con- 
 tinued: 'Well, I shan't be here long, that's a 
 comfort — the only comfort that I can see.' 
 
 ' My dear, dear Mary,' cried Lady Brooke, 
 ' what is the matter ? TeU me. I am sure 
 poor Miss Cochrane is most anxious to please 
 you.' 
 
 ' I bought a vault for myself at Finchley 
 the other day,' said this Juggernaut of a woman, 
 
184 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 still driving on, ' and it won't be long before I 
 am in it, and then many who shall be nameless 
 will wish that they had behaved differently 
 while there was time to do so ; that they will, 
 to a certainty.' 
 
 'Oh, do stop,' implored Miss Cochrane, but 
 Mrs. UUathorne would not. ' Stop, please 
 stop,' again wailed the companion ; but when, 
 on the contrary, she saw Mrs. UUathorne's lips 
 begin to move despitefuUy, she ran in her des- 
 pair towards the door. 
 
 ' Now, if you meet that woman, be so kind 
 as not to go on taking a part against me,' cried 
 Mrs. UUathorne, pursuing her with one last 
 shot. Mournful sobs followed this final act of 
 aggression. Mrs. UUathorne sniffed angrily, 
 and turned to Lady Brooke and said, ' I don't 
 like relations, but perhaps even relations are 
 better than companions ! — humble companions 
 who put their nasty little horns out behind 
 your back when they think they can do it 
 safely. I'll never forgive Bessie Cochrane ! I 
 would tell her to pack her boxes and go, only 
 I am so afraid of being left quite alone, and 
 she knows that, and presumes — actually pre- 
 
THE LEAVEN CASKET, 185 
 
 sumes — to take the servants' side. Servants 
 are never in the right. It is nonsense to say 
 they are ; they are not educated.' 
 
 ' Of course it is nonsense,' said Lady Brooke, 
 who did so wonder what all this meant. 
 
 ' I never had a better servant than that 
 woman who opened the door to you,' said Mrs. 
 Ullathorne. ' Never ! I hate her, but she is a 
 good servant. She is as punctual as clockwork 
 — thoroughly clean — quick, clever, and kind — 
 and if she goes, I shoidd not know what to do. 
 Besides, that is not the worst ; she and the 
 cook are sisters — they came together, and 
 they'll leave together ; and if they do, I'll give 
 up housekeeping and have no more servants, 
 for before these came I never had a moment's 
 peace — no, never ! Dirty, wrangling, thieving 
 women came into the house and made me un- 
 comfortable for a week or two, and then went 
 away, and worse came in their place I No, if 
 they go, I'll sell my house and furniture and 
 live in an hotel — I will indeed.' 
 
 ' But AThy do you think they are going ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure they will go. I offended them 
 his morning before luncheon, and they are 
 
186 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 only waiting to see me alone to give me notice. 
 That parlour-maid will give me notice this 
 afternoon, and the cook to-morrow morning, 
 and Bessie Cochrane is on their side ! ' 
 
 ' Oh,, but if you want to keep them we must 
 stop them going,' said Lady Brooke. ' Tell me 
 more about it, and I will see what can be done. 
 I am very clever at contriving.' 
 
 ' I always thought you must be, or you 
 would never have caught Chesterfield,' was on 
 the tip of Mrs. UUathorne's tongue, but self- 
 interest restrained her : nothing else would 
 have done so. 'I'll tell you what happened. 
 It was such a little silly, simple thing. I was 
 getting something out of a closet near the head 
 of the back stairs this morning, when a most 
 delicious smell of cooking came upstairs. It 
 was so good that I could not help saying to 
 that sulky woman who let ^ ou in — she was 
 helping me to look for something — " Oh what" 
 a good smell ! What nice things they are 
 cooking in the kitchen ! I do hope that they 
 mean to let me have a taste of them ! " And 
 she sniffed and tossed her head indignantly, 
 and I saw in a moment I had said something 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 187 
 
 wrong, and she cried out that she was " quite 
 sure no cooking was done that I was not aware 
 of, and that it was very unpleasant to be sus- 
 pected, and I was always suspecting one or 
 other of them ; however, she should make a 
 point of going downstairs at once and asking 
 her sister what she had been cooking, and if it 
 was anything I had not ordered." I begged 
 her not to do this, but she said, " Good old 
 servants that had been five years in a house 
 hadn't ought to be suspected of doing things 
 underhanded. That there wasn't no credit in 
 serving suspicious ladies who went sniffing 
 about to know what the kitchen dinner was. 
 That she, for her part, didn't care how soon 
 she made a change in her servitude, and that 
 she'd be bound for it her sister would feel the 
 same ; " and so she mil,' said Mrs. Ullathorne, 
 ' and I am miserable about it, for the cook is 
 the best cook I ever had in the house, and they 
 are both as good women as ever lived.' 
 
 ' Say that you think so — they will soon for- 
 give you.' 
 
 ' No, that is not my way. I can scold a 
 person when it is needful, but I don't like to 
 
188 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 run and put a patch on next minute. I can't 
 lower myself in that way.' 
 
 Lady Brooke was silent a moment; she 
 was puzzled. 
 
 Miss Cochrane came creeping in, the un- 
 willing bearer of bad news. 
 
 ' Mary has just gone out, I was looking 
 out of the window in the dining-room, and saw 
 her go, looking very black and determined.' 
 
 ' She has gone to the registry-office,' cried 
 Mrs. Ullathorne — ' gone to seek a place, and 
 has left the kitchenmaid to spoil our dinner.' 
 
 ' I met Hannah on the stairs a minute 
 since, and she begged me to ask you if you 
 would kindly speak to her for ^ve minutes in 
 the breakfast-room, if Lady Brooke was spend- 
 ing the afternoon.' 
 
 ' She wants to give me notice. What an 
 unfortunate woman I am ! Honora, can't you 
 help me ? I'd give five hundred pounds to 
 keep them.' 
 
 ' Less would do it,' said Lady Brooke. 
 
 ' I can't humble myself.' 
 
 ' No, you can't ; leave all to me. I have 
 an idea. Miss Cochrane, will you kindly con- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 189 
 
 trive to see Hannah, if that is her name. Do 
 not say you gave her message to Mrs. UUa- 
 thorne, but say that her mistress looks very 
 ill — very ill indeed. Please say that, and 
 appear very much alarmed. Do it well.' 
 
 ' JSTow we must act a little,' said Lady Brooke, 
 when she was gone ; ' pretend a little, I mean.' 
 
 ' I don't understand. I can't act or tell lies,' 
 said Mrs. UUathorne. 
 
 ' Who can ? ' cried Lady Brooke, aghast. 
 ' I would not on any account do such a thing. 
 You must just pretend to be ill. When servants 
 think you are ill, they are angels. Have you 
 never noticed that? They won't say an un- 
 pleasant word to you if you follow my advice.' 
 
 ' I am ill — there need be no pretence about 
 that — very ill. This has quite upset me — quite ! ' 
 
 ' Well, then, lie down on your bed. I will 
 cover you with rugs and draw the blinds down, 
 and Miss Cochrane will keep the door locked, 
 and see that no one disturbs you.' 
 
 ' Oh no, I can't do that ! Besides, they 
 will only give me notice to-morrow instead 
 of to-day.' 
 
 ' I'll secure you against that.' 
 
190 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Oh, no, no. I realLy- 
 
 But at this moment Miss Cochrane came 
 nervously in and said, ' Hannah knows you are 
 ill, and she still wants to see you. She says 
 she won't detain you more than five minutes. 
 Not when Lady Brooke is here, of course. 
 She will wait till she leaves.' 
 
 ' But I can't leave when Mrs. Ullathorne is 
 feeling so ill,^ said Lady Brooke. ' I am going 
 to get her to lie down a. while. Will you 
 please send off one of the under- servants in a 
 cab for the doctor ? Tell her to make the 
 greatest possible haste.' 
 
 Miss Cochrane went. 
 
 Mrs. Ullathorne looked obstmate. 
 
 ' What is the use of this ? They can easily 
 wait till to-morrow. They can say all they 
 want to say in the morning.' 
 
 ' But get the doctor to order you abroad 
 for two or three months. They will like being 
 left alone in the house, and the moment they 
 hear that there is a prospect of it they will say 
 no more about leaving you, and when you 
 come home you can go on as if this had never 
 happened.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 191 
 
 ' What a clever woman you are ! ' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Ullathorne. 
 
 ' Oh no ! I am only straining every nerve 
 to help you. If we can but keep them both 
 away from you until the doctor has ordered 
 you to go from home, all danger is over. I am 
 quite sure they won't give up their places after 
 they have heard that. You must be quick, 
 though. We must act a little.' 
 
 ' Bessie Cochrane will tell them. She is 
 in league with them,' cried Mrs. Ullathorne, 
 though she did not quite believe what she was 
 saying. 
 
 ' Then, we will only tell her what we want 
 them to know,' said Lady Brooke composedly. 
 
 ' Oh, you clever woman ! you clever, bad 
 woman ! ' thought Mrs. Ullathorne. 
 
 To lie down on a bed and look ill involved 
 no acting on her part. She did feel ill, though 
 she would not have dreamed of going to bed 
 unless Lady Brooke had proposed it, nay, more, 
 had not talked her into feeling more and more 
 of an invalid in real earnest. She looked 
 wretchedly ill when Lady Brooke had arranged 
 her a little, with a white handkerchief round 
 her forehead, and had darkened the room. 
 
192 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 Preston, Mrs. TJUatliorne's maid, was own 
 cousin to Mary the cook and her sister. Lady 
 Brooke kept her out of the way, therefore, 
 until all preparations were made. Then she 
 was brought and saw her usually truculent 
 mistress lying thus, pale, faint, and apparently 
 speechless. 
 
 'She seems very ill,' said Lady Brooke, 
 taking her aside. ' She says she wants to be 
 left quiet until the doctor comes ; but I wish 
 you would stay with me ; I am afraid to be 
 alone with her, Preston. I know she likes you 
 about her. She often named you in her letters 
 to Lidia. She seems to think so very highly of 
 you.' 
 
 ' Keeps her fine words for her letter- writing, 
 then, as it seems,' said the aggrieved Preston. 
 * I am sure I don't know about her high opinion 
 of any of us. It is just the other way, I think ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't mind a sharp speech now and 
 then,' replied Lady Brooke. ' She has a high 
 opinion of you, I am sure.' 
 
 'Well I am not going to say anything to 
 put her about to-day when she is ill, but to-mor- 
 row morning me, and Hannah, and Mary the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 193 
 
 cook, we are all going to give her a rnontli's 
 notice ; we are resolved.' 
 
 ' Well, you must do as you like, of course, 
 but say nothing to-day, She is not a young 
 woman, you know ! Sometimes a very slight 
 illness turns out very seriously with a person of 
 her age. We are all here to-day and gone to- 
 morrow, and if you were unkind to her, and 
 then found she had died, leaving you all large 
 legacies, it would be very painful to you. 
 Persons of her ample fortune generally do pro- 
 vide for their servants, and I imagine you will 
 find yourselves well remembered.' 
 
 The doctor came. Lady Brooke saw him, 
 gave him his cue, and took him into the dark- 
 ened room, where Preston sat on one side of 
 the bed and Miss Cochrane on the other. He 
 uttered a number of medical commonplaces 
 which seemed to mean a great deal ; said he 
 was glad he had been sent for at once, for he 
 could, he thought, ward off all danger, and 
 further declared that, if Mrs. Ullathorne could 
 but go abroad a while, she would soon be her- 
 self again. Kreuznach was the place he recom- 
 mended. Could Mrs. Ullathorne start in a day 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
194 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 or two — the sooner the better ? It was of the 
 utmost importance that she should lose no time. 
 
 Mrs. Ullathorne looked at Preston. 
 
 ' You can soon prepare your mistress's 
 things, I know,' said he encouragingly. ' And 
 you, madam — you can go ? You have no 
 arrangements to make which need detain you 
 here ? You have trustworthy people in the 
 house ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, most trustworthy,' replied Mrs. Ulla- 
 thorne. 
 
 That did not seem strong enough to Lady 
 Brooke, who said, ' My sister has been telling 
 me how fortunately she is situated. She has 
 two sisters who have been with her a long time, 
 and she could leave her house for any length 
 of time without the least anxiety — they are so 
 thoroughly to be trusted. Did you not say so, 
 Mrs. Ullathorne ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I did. It is quite true — thoroughly 
 true.' 
 
 ' Very few are so fortunate,' said the doctor. 
 
 The maid's face grew brighter, and he 
 continued : 
 
 ' Then you will go to Kreuznach, and st ay 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 195 
 
 there till you feel better? I will ^give you 
 something which will cure you of this attack, 
 but you won't be really well without a thorough 
 change. I do not mean to confine you to 
 Kreuznach. After you have been there a while 
 you might go somewhere else. I suppose you 
 will be in no hurry to get home ? ' 
 
 ' Oh dear no ! I am very fond of travelhng 
 when once I get away.' 
 
 So that was settled, and he went, and 
 Preston escorted him to the door. 
 
 'But if those two Avomen still give me 
 notice ? ' said Mrs. UUathorne. She spoke very 
 feebly ; Lady Brooke's little bit of acting had 
 had a most comical effect on her : she now 
 firmly believed that she had narrowly escaped 
 an extremely dangerous illness. 
 
 ' Oh, they won't. They will be only too 
 glad to have a holiday. Just think what a fine 
 thing for them your going away will be ! They 
 will practically be the mistresses of tliis charm- 
 ing house, and will have no work to do.' 
 
 ' I like people to have work to do,' growled 
 Mrs. UUathorne faintly. 
 
 ' Well, I dare say it is better, both for their 
 2 
 
196 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 bodies and minds ; but if they have none, they 
 can do none.' 
 
 Presently Mrs. UUathorne looked up and 
 said, ' I have been thinking over all you have 
 been saying about their enjoying their holiday 
 so much and being mistresses of this house.' 
 
 ' Yes, poor things ! it will be a nice rest for 
 them.' 
 
 ' I like what we have done so far as keeping 
 them is concerned, but I don't like the idea of 
 leaving this house so completely at their mercy. 
 They could fill it with their own friends if they 
 liked — no one would ever know.' 
 
 ' There is that to consider. But you trust 
 them so implicitly.' 
 
 ' H'm ! Only so far — I trust no one 
 thoroughly : that's the best way.' 
 
 ' Then it does seem a pity we have arranged 
 this, for of course you leave a great deal in 
 their power.' 
 
 'I don't think I'll go. Dangerous as it 
 may be for me to disobey the doctor's orders, I 
 really do not think I'll go,' said Mrs. UUathorne. 
 
 ' Then they will.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear ! is all that to begin again ? ' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 197 
 
 ' Is there no one wliom you could ask to 
 stay here — who would see that they went on 
 quietly and took care of your house and furni- 
 ture ? Would the Eaymonds do ? They come 
 up to town, don't they ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Ullathorne forgot she was an invalid, 
 and started up. 
 
 ' Honora ! I have not quite taken leave of my 
 senses ! The Eaymonds would be worse than any 
 amount of bad servants ! They would destroy 
 everything I have in the house ; they would 
 dance in it, and smoke, and alter the furniture. 
 No, whatever it costs me, I'll not leave home.' 
 
 ' There is Selina. She could come here 
 once or twice a week and see how things were 
 going on.' 
 
 ' Scribbling goose ! Do you think her 
 supervision would be valuable ? ' 
 
 ' Dr. Brooke might have some patient who 
 would take your house for a month or two.' 
 
 Mrs. Ullathorne shook her head. ' I will 
 stay where I am. I'll not leave home.' 
 
 ' Would you like me to come here while 
 you are away ? I was intending to pay a series 
 of visits, but I would gladly give them up if I 
 
198 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 could be of any service to you. Would it make 
 you more comfortable to have me here ? ' 
 
 'That might do,' said Mrs. Ullathorne 
 doubtfully ; ' but you woidd run away to your 
 visits as soon as my back was turned, and leave 
 the house to take care of itself.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, dear ; I promise you, if I come, I 
 will never go away for more than a day or two, 
 and not at all if you object. I should hve very 
 quietly, of course — very — I have no power 
 of doing otherwise. Chesterfield and I have 
 children to provide for.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Ullathorne benignly, ' if 
 you decide on doing me this favour, I shall 
 be very much obliged to you — very. I won't 
 forget it.' 
 
 ^ Oh, I would gladly do more than that for 
 you.' 
 
 ' And you will keep a sharp look-out on the 
 servants ? — the best of them require that. 
 These are good enough — admirable in some 
 ways — but you never know.' 
 
 ' No, indeed, you never know,' said Lady 
 Brooke, and Mrs. Ullathorne thought her a 
 most sensible woman. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 199 
 
 ' You had better not say anything to them 
 about my coming, until after you have left. 
 Write to them from Paris. If they don't give 
 you notice to-morrow, they won't do it at all. 
 I'll take care to do nothing to put them in a 
 bad humour.' 
 
 ' I pay their wages, of course, while I am 
 away,' said Mrs. Ullathorne, ' and I should 
 have had to give them board wages, so you 
 must allow me to pay your housekeeping too. 
 You had better let the cook provide all you 
 want, and it can go into my account with her. 
 She is economical and full of contrivance, so it 
 will make very httle difference to me at the 
 end of the year.' 
 
 Very little difference to Mrs. Ullathorne, 
 but all the difference to Lady Brooke, who was 
 by no means able to Hve as she liked. 
 
 ' You are sure, Honora, that you won't 
 discover in a week or two that you have made 
 an arrangement that is very inconvenient to 
 you ? I want you to be quite sure you can 
 go through with this.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure. I am certain.' 
 
 She was certain And well she might be, 
 
200 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 for she had been gradually leading Mrs. Ulla- 
 thorne to make her this offer ever since she 
 entered the house. 
 
 ' And now I have got a good house over my 
 head, and good servants and food provided for 
 the next few months, I ought to make some 
 use of my luck, and I will try,' said Lady 
 Brooke to herself as she went home. She 
 frisked into the study — what were pen-and-ink 
 heroines to her now, that she should feel for 
 them ? She frisked gaily in and said, ' I am 
 going to keep Mrs. UUathorne's house for her. 
 She is ordered abroad for her health, and I am 
 going to Kensington Square till she comes 
 back.' 
 
 Olive, who was copying a MS., looked up ; 
 she was afraid she would have to go too. 
 
 ' You won't take my Olive away ? ' said 
 Mrs. Brooke, who loved her niece dearly. 
 
 ' I will ! I must ! I shall ! ' 
 
 When Dr. Brooke heard what had happened, 
 he asked for five minutes' conversation with 
 Lady Brooke. ' I have not much to say,' said 
 he, when she appeared, 'but Selina tells me 
 that you wish to take Olive away from us for a 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 201 
 
 while. She is like our own child now, and I 
 almost think we might have been allowed to 
 keep her. Chesterfiekl insists on it, I hear.' 
 
 Lady Brooke, who was never quite at her 
 ease with Dr. Brooke, showed him a letter 
 from Chesterfield in which he said, ' I wish 
 you to take Olive to live with you while in 
 England. Thank Eichard and SeHna most 
 heartily for the great kindness which they have 
 shown her, but tell them that we must now 
 resume the care of her. I feel strongly on 
 this point, as you know, and must be impera- 
 tive in my request.' 
 
 ' He need not be so,' observed Dr. Brooke 
 with much suppressed feeling. ' He might 
 have left her here. She is like a child of our 
 own to us, and it would have been better for all 
 concerned.' 
 
 Lady Brooke did not speak. She perhaps 
 thought her husband's letter had spoken for 
 her. 
 
 ' Well, I have one request to make, Lady 
 Brooke,' (he never called her Honora). ' Pro- 
 mise me most solemnly that you will keep from 
 Olive all knowledge of certain circumstances 
 
202 THE LEADEN CASKET: 
 
 (you know what I refer to) which would give 
 her pain. We have always done so. She 
 knows nothing of them. Promise this solemnly.' 
 ' I do promise most solemnly. She shall 
 never learn them from me.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, 
 With ruiFs, and cuffs, and farthingales and things ; 
 With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, 
 With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 ' I WISH your Aunt Ullathorne had felt it to 
 be one of her duties to buy you four or five 
 pretty dresses,' said Lady Brooke, one day, 
 soon after she had taken up her abode in Ken- 
 sington Square. 
 
 ' But I have just had two new ones,' said 
 Ohve. ' They were made the week before you 
 came home.' 
 
 ' Oh, you can't wear those hor I mean, 
 
 those dresses would not look well here. You 
 require a Pre-Eaphaelite house to make a Pre- 
 Eaphaelite dress look well,' said Lady Brooke, 
 who was careful not to be too outspoken. 'I 
 must see what I can do for you. I wish your 
 
204 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 papa would get into the habit of writing larger 
 cheques for me.' 
 
 Mrs. Eaymond was coming to luncheon. 
 She had been spending Easter in Eome, and 
 had just returned. She entered while they 
 were speaking. ' You can't think, Honora,' 
 said she, ' what a weight your being here re- 
 moves from me. It is so dreadful to know 
 that coming to London means going to see my 
 sister Ullathorne. I would rather walk ten 
 miles than do that, and I hate walking.' 
 
 All the time Mrs. Eaymond, was speaking, 
 her eyes were straying to Olive. Presently 
 that young lady left the room. ' Honora,' said 
 Mrs. Eaymond hesitatingly, ' I want to say 
 something to you, but before I do so will you 
 answer one question ? ' 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' How do you like Olivers style of dress ? ' 
 ' I do not like it at all. I can't endure it ! ' 
 'Then, I need not be afraid to speak. 
 What I wished to say was this : I think it 
 perfectly hideous ! Dressed as she is, I would 
 not be seen with her for any money! It is 
 Selina's taste, I suppose ^ ' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 205 
 
 Lady Brooke made a rapid sign in the 
 affirmative. She could not trust herself to 
 speak of this family misfortune. 
 
 ' Well, I recommend you to make a bundle 
 of all Olive's dresses and to treat them as Carlyle 
 is said to treat his pipes.' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 ' They say he allows himself the indulgence 
 of a new pipe every day, but as he does not 
 like to throw the discarded one quite away, he 
 always puts it on the step of his door at night 
 — it is gone in ihe morning.' 
 
 ' Ah, how I should like to do that ! But 
 how am I to re-equip her? Dresses cost 
 money. Would you believe it ! — I only 
 afforded myself two when I was in Paris, and 
 they were nothing to look at, but they came to 
 more than a hundred and twenty pounds ! ' 
 
 ' I know,' murmured Mrs. Eaymond feel- 
 ingly ; ' and men think that we can look well 
 for nothing. I suppose you want to get Olive 
 married ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; Chesterfield is very anxious to do all 
 he can for her. I hope she will marry.' 
 
 ' I do not wonder at your wishing it. It is 
 
206 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 extremely desirable for a girl situated as she is 
 to get married as quickly as possible.' 
 
 Upon this the 'two ladies had some private 
 and confidential conversation, during the course 
 of which they made an arrangement for next 
 day which resulted in Lady Brooke's saying 
 to Olive next morning, ' I want you to look 
 your very best. Aunt Eaymond is coming for 
 us at two o'clock. Be ready to go out with 
 her when she comes, and please take great 
 pains with your appearance. Let me see : put 
 on that navy-blue dress, and calm down your 
 hair a little.' 
 
 ' Where are we going ? ' 
 
 ' You will see when the time comes. Eun 
 away and get ready, and don't hurry your 
 operations.' 
 
 Mrs. Eaymond came. She inspected Olive 
 most carefully. She altered her hair a little, 
 gave some amicable twists and turns to such 
 articles of attire as were movable, bade her get 
 into the carriage, and said, ' She must not sit 
 with her back to the horses, Honora — not in 
 going, I mean ; that often makes even a good- 
 looking girl turn so white that she seems posi- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 207 
 
 tively plain.' So Olive was judiciously placed, 
 and they set out. She felt that the eyes of these 
 two ladies were fixed on her without intermis- 
 sion. They were criticising her most minutely 
 and weighing her in some worldly balance. To 
 what distinguished personage was she about to 
 be presented ? ' Do say where we are going,' 
 said she imploringly. 
 
 ' To make a call,' was the only answer she 
 obtained. 
 
 ' Can you come with me for one moment to 
 Madame Filoselle's ? ' said Mrs. Eaymond ; ' I 
 want to speak to her, but I won't keep you a 
 moment. Exmoor Street is not out of your 
 way.' 
 
 ' Of course we will come. We like going 
 to a milliner's — don't we, Olive ? You and I 
 have not the talent to write books like dear 
 Aunt Selina ; we must have some employment 
 for our minds.' 
 
 They rang at Madame Filoselle's bell, and 
 were shown into a handsome drawing-room, 
 where there was little to reveal that lady's 
 calling but two or three books of patterns 
 bound in Kussia-leather. Mrs. Eaymond said 
 
208 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 a few words about some dress she had ordered, 
 and then she drew OHve into conversation. 
 Olive was turning over a book of patterns. 
 
 ' Which would you like, if you were asked 
 to choose a dress for yourself? ' 
 
 ' This,' said Olive, pointing to a pretty 
 creamy white texture, something between silk 
 and gauze. 
 
 ' If I had been asked to choose a very 
 becoming dress for Mademoiselle, that is the 
 very dress I should have picked out,' said 
 Madame Filoselle. 
 
 Ohve looked at it regretfully. Such dresses 
 were for the rich and great. ' And that is 
 pretty too,' said she. This time it was a nonde- 
 script willowy-green. 
 
 ' Very pretty,' cried all three. 
 
 ' But they are all pretty,' said Olive ; ' far 
 too pretty to look at unless one is able to 
 choose two or three of them.' 
 
 She put the pattern-book down. 
 
 The milliner was watching her as narrowly 
 as the two ladies had done erewhile. 
 
 ' Couldn't I have a bonnet like my new 
 dress ? ' said Mrs. Eaymond. ' I must be en suite. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 20y 
 
 Have you any bonnets I could look at to see 
 which shape I had better decide on ? ' 
 
 She carelessly strolled into the other room 
 as she spoke, and though she was passing a series 
 of bonnets in review, Olive saw that she was 
 talking earnestly all the wiiile. Presently by a 
 slight gesture she summoned Lady Brooke. 
 
 ' Sit still, Olive,' said that lady. ' Aunt 
 Eaymond wants me for a moment, I see ; but I 
 would rather you stayed here. Eest, dear.' 
 
 ' Oh, for the formidable interview which 
 lies before me,' thought Olive. ' I was begin- 
 ning to forget about. that.' 
 
 She Avatched her mother and the two others 
 as they talked and fingered the bonnets. After 
 a while they left the room. 
 
 Madame Filoselle was the first to return. 
 
 ' We have been arranging about a dress for 
 you, mademoiselle. One of my ladies will take 
 your measure.' 
 
 ' A dress for me ! ' cried Olive, astonished, 
 for she had had a great many of late. 
 
 ' Yes, mademoiselle. Pretty ladies look all 
 the prettier when they have well-made dresses.' 
 
 The ' lady ' came, and in a minute or so 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
210 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 Olive's measure was taken. A tape round her 
 shoulders, a tape round her waist, another to 
 give the length of her arm, and the thing was 
 done. 
 
 ' And now sign your name here, mademoi- 
 selle,' said Madame Filoselle — 'here, at the 
 bottom of this page.' 
 
 What this page contained Olive knew not, 
 for a piece of blotting-paper hid it. She looked 
 inquiringly at her mother. 
 
 ' It is usual, dear,' said Mrs. Eaymond, and 
 Olive signed, and then her mother and Mrs. 
 Eaymond added their names. After this they 
 left, and Mrs. Eaymond and Lady Brooke 
 seemed to forget about the call, the prospect of 
 which was now once more so alarming to Olive, 
 and ordered the coachman to turn into the 
 park. Olive was glad of the respite, and 
 soon forgot her fears. It was late in April, 
 and the weather had been very cold that year. 
 All the buds had been long in coming out, but 
 were now thrusting forth their tender heads and, 
 seen from afar, looked like a delicate golden- 
 green mist. ' How pretty it used to be at 
 Austeriield when the buds first began to come 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 311 
 
 out, and how delighted WiUie and I used to be 
 with them ! How we used to like to pick the 
 sticky little sycamore leaves out of their rosy 
 pink sheaths ! How tightly they were packed 
 up ! I beheve WiUie and I could have sat all 
 day peeping into the little contrivances flowers 
 and leaves have for taking care of themselves. 
 After all, it was a very nice way of spending 
 our time. I have never been so happy since. 
 I wish ' Here Olive's meditations were inter- 
 rupted, for she was struck by the repetition of 
 the word ' court dresses.' ' Court dresses ! 
 What were they talking about ? Court dresses 
 for whom ? ' 
 
 ' You say you will get yours from Paris,' 
 said Mrs. Eaymond, ' and I think you are right, 
 if your woman is in the habit of making for you ; 
 but Olive's will have to be made by Madame 
 Filoselle. I dare say she will do it as well as 
 anyone.' 
 
 ' / going to court ! ' cried Ohve. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' cried Lady Brooke. ' Don't begin 
 to talk about it until it is all arranged.' 
 
 Olive felt herself snubbed, and turned away 
 to look at her buds again ; but she f:ould not 
 
212 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 confine her thoughts to them as before, and 
 when she tried to divert them to Aiisterfield 
 and WiUie, it did not seem so nice to sit and 
 pick sticky sycamore leaves out of their pro- 
 tecting pink sheaths as it had been before court 
 dresses were spoken of. She felt bewildered. 
 A visit to court seemed to her a thing as much 
 out of the question as a visit to fairyland, for 
 never before had she been with people who 
 would have given a word or a thought to such 
 a thing. Suddenly the carriage stopped at a 
 dull house in a dull street. ' Now I must look 
 my best ! ' thought Ohve ; ' this is the place.' 
 But no one seemed to care how she looked, 
 and the lady whom they were visiting was all 
 but blind. Then they hurried home, for they 
 were going out to dine. 
 
 Early next morning Olive was informed 
 that a ' lady ' had come from Madame Filoselle's 
 to fit her with some stays. 
 
 *I don't want stays,' cried she; 'I have 
 never worn them till lately. Mine are new.' 
 
 ' Madame Filoselle won't make dresses for 
 people who wear ill-fitting stays. Eun away. 
 She thinks all ill-fitting but her own. Let the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 213 
 
 woman who tries them on say which you are to 
 have. She knows better than you.' 
 
 OUve obeyed. 
 
 * I expect a parcel coming while I am 
 here,' said the 'lady.' 'Madame Filoselle 
 wishes you to select your underclothing from the 
 parcel of things she is submitting to you. She 
 Avishes me to stay and give you any assistance in 
 my power in helping you to make your choice.' 
 
 ' Who is going to pay for all this ? ' was 
 Olive's thought : but she did not hke to give it 
 utterance. 
 
 ' Don't you think there is some mistake ? ' 
 she said. ' I don't believe that mamma ordered 
 anything but a dress.' 
 
 ' No, mademoiselle, there is no mistake. 
 Madame Filoselle told me to come to-day, and 
 she said I was to be sure to see that you chose 
 a becoming outfit.' 
 
 ' Outfit? Where am I going? ' 
 
 ' Into the world, miss. Young ladies always 
 want a complete set of new things when once 
 they begin to go into society.' 
 
 Ohve thought she was dreaming. Was she, 
 who had never known any life but a quiet one, 
 
214 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 who was familiar with nothing but the dull 
 house in Harley Street and the hedgerows of 
 Austerfield, to be suddenly transplanted and 
 live in the full glitter of the sun ? 
 
 A large parcel arrived. Tw^o servants 
 tottered under its weight as it came upstairs. 
 Olive's garments had been rather plain. These 
 were embroidered, and trimmed, and daintily 
 finished. ' They can't be meant for me,' said 
 she, full of wonder at their fineness and elabo- 
 ration of ornament. 
 
 'Oh, yes; there is no mistake, I assure 
 you,' said the ' lady ' ; and then she pulled out a 
 notebook and pencil, and laid them on the table, 
 ready to write down each article which was to 
 be ordered. There were about half-a-dozen 
 diiFerent specimens of each article of wearing 
 apparel, and as Olive's choice was made, one 
 dozen of each'was inscribed in the ' lady's ' book. 
 Besides these, there were boxes of pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs of various degrees of fineness, stock- 
 ings, gloves, sleeves, collars, and habit-shirts. 
 
 ' It is absurd of me to go on ordering things ! ' 
 cried Ohve — ' quite absurd ! We are only 
 wasting our time, for I am sure there is some 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 215 
 
 mistake.' And she rang the bell, and sent the 
 maid who answered it, to bring Lady Brooke 
 without delay. 
 
 ' It is all right,' said that lady reassuringly, 
 ' Your Aunt Selina was very kind and sweet to 
 you, but she was not the -best person to equip a 
 young girl for her introduction to society, for 
 she has no idea what is wanted. Don't look so 
 frightened, Ohve. You are not going to have 
 such an overpowering number of new things, 
 after all ! Madame Filoselle is only going to 
 send you a complete set of clothing. She and 
 I have taken you in hand, and we are going to 
 reform you from head to foot.' 
 
 ' But such handsome, good things ! I 
 thought I was to be economical.' 
 
 Lady Brooke smiled. ' Let this person who 
 is helping you have her way, dear. You are 
 in good hands/ 
 
 The ' lady ' was half amused, half impatient. 
 She showed Lady Brooke what had been 
 already ordered, and said, ' The rest of the 
 things will come to-morrow.' 
 
 So they did. Next day came bonnets, hats, 
 and flowers for the hair. ' I feel hke an ex- 
 hausted receiver ! ' cried Olive, who knew some- 
 
216 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 tiling of scientific expressions from her uncle, 
 but was vague in her method of using them. 
 A mantle and shawl followed, and last came, 
 not the one willowy-green dress which Olive 
 expected, but the white one also, trimmed with 
 silk and lilies of the valley, and white butter- 
 flies for her hair ; and the box was by no 
 means empty when these two dresses were taken 
 out, for beneath them were a pretty light blue 
 cashmere, and another evening dress. In short, 
 Olive now had everything she could possibly 
 wear or wish to wear for some time to come. 
 She went with her mother to Madame Filoselle, 
 and that lady was justly enchanted with the 
 transformation she had worked. Olive resigned 
 herself to the possession of all these lovely 
 things — she whose wardrobe had once been so 
 circumscribed had now pretty dresses for all 
 occasions, and bonnets or headgear of the 
 lighter sort, and shoes, gloves, nay, even fans to 
 match them. ' Mother,' said she one day, ' you 
 are far too generous to me. I could very well 
 have worn some of my old things ; they were 
 quite good still. You don't buy one quarter 
 so many things for yourself as you do for 
 me.' 
 
THE l^EABEN CASKET. 217 
 
 ' Of course not ! ' said Lady Brooke ; ' it 
 would be very strange if I did.' 
 
 Olive looked inquiringly. 
 
 ' You silly child, don't you understand what 
 a pleasure it is to me to see you look pretty 
 and hear you admired ? When is the next 
 Millennium soiree ? ' 
 
 ' Poor mamma ! you did not enjoy that 
 evening.' 
 
 'I don't know. I should like to go to 
 another. Let us go and see your Aunt Selina, 
 and ask her to take us with her. Put on one 
 of your Pre-Eaphaelite dresses, my dear. You 
 may as w^ell wear those things out in private 
 life. We are not going anywhere else. It will 
 conciliate her.' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke was in trouble. Her husband 
 was very ill. He had been working too hard, 
 and had had a strong warning that his brain 
 would not stand such undue exertion. He was 
 ordered abroad for a thorough rest and change, 
 and was advised to go at once. 
 
 ' We are both going,' said Mrs. Brooke. ' I 
 am glad now that Olive is with you, for we 
 could not very well have taken her, and I 
 should not have known where to leave her. 
 
218 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 He is really very ill, Honora. I am very 
 anxious/ 
 
 ' You must be. So am I — most anxious. 
 Selina, could you give us tickets for the next 
 soiree at the Millennium ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Brooke did not notice her scanty sym- 
 pathy ; did not wonder at her asking for an 
 invitation to a place where she hated to go ; 
 never dreamed that she wanted to see Sir John 
 Ellerton again in order to ask him to visit her 
 in Kensington Square. Mrs. Brooke was not 
 suspicious, and her thoughts were full of her 
 husband. ^ We go in three days,' said she. 
 ' I feel miserable about Eichard.' 
 
 ' Don't be miserable about Eichard ; he 
 only wants rest.' 
 
 ' Olive,' said Mrs. Brooke, ' you could do 
 me a good turn. I have sent out invitations 
 for a large party on the twentieth of next 
 month. Will you write in my name and ex- 
 plain why it must be put off? Here is a list of 
 the people I asked.' 
 
 ' Are the addresses there ? ' inquired Olive, 
 v/ho knew her aunt's ways. 
 
 But for once Mrs. Brooke had been method- 
 ical. She had made up a bundle of letters of 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 219 
 
 acceptance, and of course each bore its writer's 
 address. She put these in Ohve's hand, and 
 the one at the top began, ' Mr. W. K. Morrison 
 has much pleasure in accepting ' 
 
 OHve stared at it in silence. Her heart 
 was touched by the sight. During all these 
 days of opening parcels of pretty things from 
 the milliner, she had never had time to think of 
 Willie. She had not had many frocks when 
 she knew him, and those she wore then cost 
 little thought or money. ' Tell me about Am,' 
 said she, pointing to the note. ' Who is 
 he?' 
 
 ' A man who paints the most lovely pic- 
 tures. Mr. Denbigh begged for an invitation 
 for him. Honora, you had better let Mr. Den- 
 bigh bring him to see you. They say he is so 
 clever ! ' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it, dear ; but I don't 
 think I want to see him. I do not mean to 
 have acquaintances of that kind. I can't. 
 There is a Mr. Willoughby who knows Ohve 
 and will ask her to dance, but I have had to 
 give him a hint not to do it. I am sorry if I 
 have offended him, I am sure.' 
 
220 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' My dear, he is offended — frightfully of- 
 fended ! He spoke to me about it. He was 
 engaged to dance with Ohve he said, and when 
 he claimed her promise, she told him that he 
 had made a mistake, and danced with some 
 one else. I thought at the time it must have 
 been your doing.' 
 
 ' Of course it was ! Why should she dance 
 with Mr. Willoughby ? It is not worth while 
 for us to sit up till three or four in the morn- 
 ing for the sake of men of that kind/ 
 
 Mrs. Brooke glanced at Olive in some un- 
 easiness. Olive was not attending to what was 
 passing, but vaguely fingering the note she still 
 held in her hand. She knew it was not from 
 her Willie, but still it possessed an odd attrac- 
 tion for her. She wished the party could have 
 taken place. She would have hked to see 
 this Mr. W. K. Morrison. He was, at any rate, 
 almost a namesake. 
 
 When Lady Brooke met Sir John Ellerton 
 at the Millennium, she quite forgot that she did 
 not want many visitors in Kensington Square . 
 The door of the house was flung open before 
 him, and he was made to feel that he would be 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 221 
 
 welcome at any time. He did come frequently, 
 and Lady Brooke bought a copy of ' Our Acre- 
 ocracy,' in which it stood revealed that estates 
 in Yorkshire, Cumberland, and Scotland pro- 
 duced for him an income of 17,000/. a-year. 
 ' That book is very sordid reading,' said she to 
 Olive when she had mastered her subject. ' I'll 
 take it away. * Put some poetry or something 
 of that kind on tlie table.' 
 
 But now all Lady Brooke's mind was given 
 to Olive's first drawing-room. She took her to 
 a professional lady, who tied a voluminous 
 table-cloth round her waist and gathered it up 
 train-wise to show her pupils how to manage 
 such appendages when the time came. She 
 had solemn interviews with Madame Filoselle 
 and others. All said Olive would look sweet 
 on the occasion, and all were triumphantly 
 right. She did look especially pretty. 
 
 Lady Brooke had not been to court for 
 years, and was comparatively a stranger in 
 English society ; but Mrs. Eaymond was not, 
 and Mrs. Eaymond seemed bent on introducing 
 her to everyone worth knowing. Olive, accus- 
 tomed to Mrs. Brooke's literary folks, and to 
 
222 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 them only, suddenly found herself in a new 
 world. She was rather oppressed by it ; she 
 wondered how Mrs. Eaymond could look so 
 happy. Mrs. Eaymond was happy, and tho- 
 roughly at home. Now and then Olive heard 
 fragments of convei'sation which proved this. 
 Once or twice she heard herself named, always 
 in the most flattering terms. That, she sup- 
 posed, was due to politeness. All were com^- 
 tiers and courtly here. An old lady, evidently 
 an intimate friend of Mrs. Eaymond's, was 
 speaking to her now. Olive could not avoid 
 hearing what she said. ' I did not know your 
 niece was so old. How fast time does go I 
 Poor thing ! How pretty she is ! What a sad 
 thing for her 1 ' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Mrs. Eaymond softly. ' She 
 knows nothing about it. We think it better to 
 keep it from her.' 
 
 'Much better. You are quite right. It 
 would only be giving her useless pain. She 
 is a charming girl, to be sure. I am so 
 sorry for her, but I hope she will marry 
 soon — that would be the best thing that could 
 happen.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 223 
 
 ' Mucli the best. I hope and trust she will.' 
 
 After this people came and went. High- 
 born ladies said a few gracious words to Olive, 
 but she was weary with waiting so long in the 
 ante-room, and could not forget what she had 
 heard, or cease to wonder at it. Why was she 
 so to be pitied ? Because her father was so far 
 away from her in India — because her uncle was 
 so ill — that must be the reason, and he was 
 going to die. No greater grief could befall her 
 than that. 
 
 The first thing she said, when, exhausted by 
 this unaccustomed scene, she huddled herself 
 into the Eaymonds' carriage with her mother 
 and aunt, was, ' Please tell me something — I 
 am miserable until I know. Is Uncle Eichard 
 going to die? Is he so ill that he can't re- 
 cover?' 
 
 ' Of course not, you silly child ! What can 
 have put that into your head ? ' 
 
 'I am so unhappy about him — so afraid 
 that you are only sajdng that to comfort 
 me.' 
 
 ' His complete recovery is certain, if he will 
 consent to take a proper amount of rest. How 
 
224 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 can you doubt it ? What has put such a fancy 
 into your mind? You had no such fear this 
 morning.' 
 
 ' Something I heard ' 
 
 ' You are foolish ; you have made some 
 mistake. Don't be silly, Olive ; you are going 
 to be a great success, I can see that.' 
 
 ' Am I ? ' said Olive, perfectly uninterested. 
 ' I feel very strange and unhappy. Do tell me 
 why people pity me, and call me " poor thing," 
 and what unhappy or unfortunate thing is being 
 kept from me ; I know there is something, and 
 you must tell me,' and she turned imploringly 
 to Mrs. Kaymond, 'for I heard you talking 
 about it to the lady in hght-grey velvet and 
 pearls.' 
 
 Lady Brooke and Mrs. Eaymond looked 
 on each other with eyes full of meaning. The 
 latter said promptly, ' Olive, you are dreaming. 
 I have never said a word about you all the 
 morning, except to thank any of my friends 
 who came to tell me that you were a pretty 
 girl. If I had known that you were going to 
 talk in this foolish way as soon as we got into 
 the carriage, I should have said. " Yes, she is 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 225 
 
 pretty, but, poor child, you have no idea how- 
 stupid she is.'" 
 
 Ohve smiled faintly ; she was only partly 
 convinced. ' Are you quite sure that the grey- 
 velvet lady was not talking of me ? ' 
 
 ' I am certain. Have I not told you 
 
 ' But she was looking at me.' 
 
 ' Yes she said once or twice, " Your niece 
 is so pretty, I can't take my eyes off her " — 
 that's why she looked, I suppose — the worst is, 
 she is half blind.' 
 
 ' But she said niece ' 
 
 'Now, Olive, be reasonable. Y^ou are not 
 my only niece. I can't tell you the name of 
 the girl we were talking of — that would not be 
 risht, but T see that nothino^ short of that will 
 convince vou.' 
 
 Ohve felt ashamed of herself and was 
 silent. 
 
 ' What a blessing it is to know that Mrs. 
 Ullathorne is out of England ! ' observed Mrs. 
 Eaymond. ' Do you know, I feel as if an oppres- 
 sive weight were removed now that she is gone. 
 She got to know of all our doings, and never ap- 
 
 YOL. I. Q 
 
226 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 proved of any of them, and we were forced to 
 listen to her wonderful speeches and never resent 
 them. Tiresome woman ! I wonder how often 
 she would see us if she were poor, or how much 
 range we should grant her tongue if she lost all 
 her money ? Here we are at Falkland Houses ! 
 Don't you think our house rather nice ? but it's 
 only a hired one — we are not so well off as you. 
 By-the-by, are you pretty comfortable at Sister 
 Ullathorne's ? She bullies everyone but her 
 servants, and spoils them until they are unbear- 
 able. And then every now and then she 
 breaks out, insults them all, and they leave in a 
 body. I suppose, if they were ever so dis- 
 agreeable, you would not dare to turn them 
 away ? * 
 
 ' Of course not. That is my tenure of 
 ■office ; but I am perfectly comfortable.' 
 
 ' They used to make a fuss when Sister 
 TJllathorne had a few friends to dinner — they 
 -said it gave them trouble.' 
 
 ' Sister TJllathorne only asks plain men and 
 women,' said Lady Brooke, laughing. 'That 
 is so silly of her. Servants will run themselves 
 off their legs for anyone with a title — they 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 227 
 
 enjoy it. I know quite well how to manage 
 them.' 
 
 'And everyone else too,' thought Mrs. 
 Eaymond, who, though she was forming a very 
 strong alhance with her Indian sister-in-law, 
 was quite aware of her powers. ' Good-bye. 
 I am very tired ! You are coming to us this 
 evening, Honora ? — be punctual.' 
 
 ' Sir John EUerton is going to dine with us,' 
 replied Lady Brooke, ' and Mrs. Ptolomais ; she 
 won't stay late, though, and I suppose I may 
 bring him with me ? ' 
 
 ' Of course you may,' said Mrs. Eaymond 
 with a meaning glance at Ohve, who was look- 
 ing out of the window. 
 
 ' Good-bye, then ; thank you for taking 
 us to-day. By-the-by, I shall not be so afraid 
 of moving about next week — I am going to 
 have the use of Dr. Brooke's carriai^e while he 
 is away. Selina asked him to let me have it. 
 It looks rather professional, but I don't mind 
 that — it will be an immense comfort to me. 
 Au revoirJ 
 
 ' It is simply astounding,' said Mrs. Eay- 
 mond to her husband. ' That woman's genius 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 is prodigious ! She has not been in London a 
 month, and yet she has contrived to find people 
 wilUng to supply her with everything she can 
 want or wish for. She has a better house than 
 we have, and it does not cost her a penny ; 
 and now she has a carriage, and very soon ' 
 
 ' You could have had the carriage yourself 
 if you had asked for it. I wish you had. It 
 would have done for me, and you could have 
 had ours all to yourself.' 
 
 ' But it would never have occurred to me to 
 ask for it. That thinking of things so promptly 
 is just what is so very clever in Honora.' 
 
 When Lady Brooke entered her drawing- 
 room it was full of lovely flowers. She had 
 ' chanced ' to say in Sir John Ellerton's hearing 
 how wretched it was to her to live in rooms 
 without flowers, and he had felt it to be a 
 privilege to send her some. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I cannot but remember such things were, 
 That were most precious to me. — Macheth. 
 
 Qiieen. What would she have ? 
 
 Hor. She speaks much of her father. — Hamlet. 
 
 Mrs. Ullathorne's drawing-room was cer- 
 tainly a very agreeable room at any time, and 
 doubly so now that she herself was not occupy- 
 ing it. The sun shone pleasantly through the 
 three large south windows which looked on the 
 square, and the back drawing-room was made 
 cheerful by a ghmpse of the tops of some fine 
 old sycamore trees which grew with quite 
 majestic dignity in the long strip of garden at 
 the back of the house. The spring had been 
 wet and cold, so no one had the heart to shut 
 out a single ray of sunshine, or fragment of 
 clear sky. Olive was sitting in a low chair by 
 the window reading her Aunt Sehna's last new 
 novel. All for love of her Olive was reading 
 
230 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 it; for, though it had just come out, she had 
 read it, and copied it, and heard it read aloud, 
 until she could almost have repeated the whole 
 three volumes by heart. OHve's dress was very 
 pretty, and made of some faint white Indian 
 stuff trimmed with old gold satin. The sun 
 flickered on this and illumined soft warm 
 patches, and filled every fold with reflected 
 light, and caught the tawny satin and made 
 it burn with a new richness, or rested on Olive 
 herself, lending depth to the splendour of her 
 dark eyes, and heightening the delicacy of her 
 wonderfully delicate complexion. She was 
 rather sad. She had, as it would seem, every- 
 thing the world could give her, but she felt 
 suddenly cut off from the companionship of all 
 who loved her. They were few in number, 
 certainly ; but Dr. Brooke had always been as 
 loving to her as a father, and Mrs. Brooke, 
 in spite of her absurdities, was a very kind- 
 hearted good w^oman, and intensely fond of 
 Olive whenever she had time to think of her. 
 Now, though she was with her own mother, 
 she did not feel lialf so much at home as she 
 had done with her uncle and aunt. Lady 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 231 
 
 Brooke was polite, always kindly ready to take 
 an interest in anything which concerned Olive, 
 but she never went beyond this— never showed 
 more affection than she might have felt for a 
 pleasant visitor. In point of fact, Olive felt 
 very much like a visitor, and had difficulty in 
 beheving that she was the daughter of the pretty 
 lady who was now her daily companion. She 
 constantly found herself imagining a time when 
 this unreal existence — this life of dressing and 
 gaiety — would come to an end, and she would 
 be at home again with her dear uncle and aunt, 
 and would look on this visit to Lady Brooke as 
 a dream. So far as it went, it was a very 
 pleasant dream. They had spent nearly two 
 months in perpetually dressing for different 
 kinds of entertainments. Gay luncheons had 
 been swiftly followed by garden parties or after- 
 noon concerts ; dinner parties had been squeezed 
 in between balls and soirees ; operas, theatres, 
 and lawn- tennis parties had been enjoyed when- 
 ever a spare hour or so could be found for 
 them. How much of their lives during the last 
 eight weeks had been spent on the great main 
 roads, hurrying home from one scene of plea- 
 
232 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 sure with barely time to dress for another ! 
 Ohve had thoroughly enjoyed the excitement 
 of this perpetual change, but she painfully felt 
 the need of some one who loved her. In Harley 
 Street her uncle's eyes always brightened when 
 he saw^ her ; and she never entered the study 
 without a kind word from her aunt, though it 
 might be httle more than — ' Oh, it is you, dar- 
 hng ; do sit down, but don't speak until I give 
 you leave.' Now, though Olive did not go so 
 far as to make the actual comparison. Lady 
 Brooke treated her much as a milHner treats a 
 lay figure. She was careful to see that her 
 daughter was well dressed and well placed, and 
 then, so long as they happened to be alone 
 together, she took very httle further notice of 
 her. When visitors came, Lady Brooke always 
 placed her in the best possible light ; but Olive 
 pined for a word or two of kindness when no 
 one was there. The words ' dear ' and ' darling ' 
 fell trippingly enough from Lady Brooke's 
 tongue, but they had no inner warmth — they 
 were only used conventionally. Moreover, 
 Olive felt as if Lady Brooke either placed a 
 barrier between herself and her father and 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 233 
 
 brothers and sisters, or did not care to remove 
 one which by some accident already existed. 
 She continually spoke of Sir Chesterfield, but 
 never as if Olive would have much to do with 
 him ; nor did she ever seem to look forward to 
 the time when Olive and her brothers and 
 sisters would all hve together, or do anything 
 to draw them nearer to each other now. Lady 
 Brooke wrote long letters to India to her hus- 
 band, and to Lausanne to the girls, but she 
 never showed Olive their answers, or asked her 
 to write to them, or gave her a message from 
 them, or tried in any way to make her feel as 
 if she were anything to them. Ohve often 
 thought of these things with surprise and pain. 
 She dropped her book now to think of them 
 once more. Lady Brooke was writing, and if 
 Olive could have seen her letter she might have 
 read : — ' Do not be unhappy about Olive. I 
 always told you that it was foolish to be so, 
 and now that she is with me I say so still more 
 strongly. She has every chance of doing ex- 
 tremely well. She has every possible advan- 
 tage. Thanks to our own friends and to your 
 sister Esther's kind introductions, we have had 
 
234 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ample opportunity of enjoying society. Olive 
 is remarkably beautiful ; a little dreamy and 
 not a little romantic, but I tliink that is easily 
 to be accounted for by the odd way in which 
 she has been brought up. Sir John Ellerton is 
 very much in love with her. She is not aware 
 of it yet, and I do not intend to enlighten her ; 
 indeed, I did not attach much importance to 
 the matter myself until three weeks ago, when 
 he brought his mother to call on us. She is a 
 dear old lady, as good and kind as can be, but 
 much too full of the importance of her family 
 and of her son to come here and sanction any 
 love-affair with poor dear Olive, if she had not 
 seen that he was so thoroughly in earnest that 
 it would be impossible to make him take the 
 disadvantages of such an alliance into account. 
 He will be a very good husband for her, for he 
 has at least 20,000/. a year. They will proba- 
 bly be married some time in the autumn or 
 winter. I shall leave Amabel with them in 
 England, for I am sure India will never suit 
 her, and return to you with the younger girls ; 
 and then I think we may all be very happy to- 
 gether if you will only take brighter views of 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 235 
 
 everything. Anyhow, if Olive gets sucli an ex- 
 tremely desirable husband as Sir John Ellerton, 
 I do not see that you need worry yourself 
 any longer on her account ; indeed, it will 
 be wrong to me and to your other children 
 if you do.' So far had Lady Brooke written, 
 when a loud postman's knock announced the 
 arrival of more letters. She grumbled. Olive 
 rejoiced : she said that she liked letters, and 
 often wished that the postman would come 
 twice as often. ' You would not get more 
 letters if he did," replied Lady Brooke, but 
 such considerations were too deep for Olive ; 
 besides, she was soon absorbed in a letter from 
 her Aunt Selina. Lady Brooke had a packet 
 of letters. Some were invitations, and these 
 she at once answered, and thus some time was 
 spent. ' There, that is from your Aunt Ulla- 
 thorne,' said she at length ; and as she spoke, 
 she tossed aside a letter with an enormous 
 garden- seat-like monogram as vulgar as modern 
 taste could devise. ' I have read it, though I 
 knew there would be something in it to vex me.' 
 It was rather a comical letter. Since Mrs 
 UUathorne's departure she had had leisure to 
 
236 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 think, and had ' come to the conckision that it 
 was very foohsh to shrink from saying un- 
 pleasant things to servants when benefit to 
 yourself might accrue from doing so.' Her 
 letter was frill of orders to her sister Honora to 
 be very severe with those whom she was look- 
 ing after. She was to take the housemaid 
 (lazy thing) to task for this, and the cook for 
 that, and to get about twenty times as much 
 work out of the under-servants as they had 
 ever done before. In fact, Lady Brooke had 
 no difficulty in seeing that Mrs. UUathorne was 
 trying to get her to set everything a-going in 
 the house which for years she herself had pined 
 to have done but dared not order. 
 
 ' What will you do ? ' cried Olive. ' I am 
 sure they won't like it.' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Lady Brooke calmly. ' The 
 servants are very good creatures, and if your 
 aunt wishes to make these changes she must 
 speak to them herself. Your Aunt UUathorne 
 is in Italy.' 
 
 ' How delightful ! Is she not very happy? ' 
 
 * She says that she has only gone there 
 because her doctor wished her to stay at Kreuz- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 237 
 
 nach. I'll read you what she says : *' The thing 
 which has struck me most in Italy is the hard 
 ness of the water." ' 
 
 Olive's lip curled. 
 
 ' Yes, money is oddly distributed,' remarked 
 Lady Brooke. ' Your Aunt Ullathorne, who 
 would have been completely in her element as 
 matron of a workhouse, ruling her paupers 
 with a rod of iron, is able to have every delight 
 money can procure for her, and finds nothing 
 to astonish her in Italy but the hardness of the 
 water, and has thought of nothing on her way 
 there but how clever it will be to make me do 
 a bit of grinding down her domestics which 
 she dares not do herself; and here am I, who 
 could so enjoy wealth, obhged to think twice 
 before I spend sixpence ! However, I won't 
 complain, for I am very comfortable.' 
 
 Lady Brooke had a perfect talent for mak- 
 ing herself comfortable. She never seemed to 
 exert herself much to secure this happy state, 
 or in any way to oppress those who waited on 
 her, but wherever she went she always, in an 
 incredibly short space of time, gathered around 
 her everything that was at all necessary to her 
 
238 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 enjoyment. She instinctively knew the warmest 
 corner and easiest chair, and in this she basked 
 gracefully, looking rosy, comely, caressing, 
 and entirely haj)py. She did not let Mrs. 
 Ullathorne's letter distress her — nothing ever 
 did distress her much but lack of money. 
 Presently she looked up and said, ' Olive, re- 
 member this : one of the most important things 
 in this world is to secure a good income ; then 
 if you are unhappy, it must be your own fault. 
 If you have not enough money, you will be 
 worried every hour of your life.' 
 
 Olive hated talk about money. She lost no 
 time in making an excuse to go into the 
 dining-room to fetch something. It was empty ; 
 so she sat down in a chair by the window, and 
 drew aside the white curtain. Not for the sake 
 of looking out, however, for her thoughts were 
 very busy with other things, and she was 
 anxiously wondering if her uncle would ever be 
 well again. She might have been there half an 
 hour, when her eyes rested on a figure which 
 had already passed the window more than once. 
 It was a lady. She was not by any means 
 young, but very handsome, with a beauty of 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 239 
 
 feature which time has no power to alter. She 
 was, however, so pale and haggard and anxious- 
 looking, that Olive felt a throb of pain even at 
 the first glimpse of her. She was plainly, 
 almost humbly dressed, and wore an old black 
 shawl folded tightly round her ; nevertheless, 
 she was unmistakably a lady. Her manner 
 was so strange that Olive could not help watch- 
 ing her. She passed backwards and forwards 
 before the window, each time shortening the 
 range of her little walk, and each time fixing a 
 very earnest, not to say painfully eager, gaze 
 on Olive's face, who in turn felt so peculiarly 
 attracted by this poor woman that she never 
 removed her eyes from her for a moment. 
 Even when the lady disappeared, Olive, who in 
 her eagerness had risen to her feet, still stood 
 where she was, so certain did it seem that this 
 stranger would return. She did return ; looked 
 most searchingly as before, again passed on ; 
 but this time, after walking perhaps two steps, 
 she turned back impetuously, came to the rail- 
 ing immediately in front of the window where 
 Olive was standing, grasped it as if to support 
 herself, and then stood still. Her lips were 
 
240 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 parted as if to speak; but she faltered, and just 
 as Olive and she were thus standing with eyes 
 riveted on each other's faces, Lady Brooke came 
 in and said, ' Olive dear, I quite forgot to re- 
 mind you Oh, what is the matter ? ' cried 
 
 she, for she saw Olive's startled face. She came 
 to the window ; she saw the strange lady. The 
 stranger saw her, and now her gaze was trans 
 ferred to Lady Brooke, but its character changed, 
 and a look of intense horror came over her wan 
 face. Olive saw this, and saw^ too, how pale 
 her mother had grown, and how she trembled. 
 ' What is it ? ' cried Olive ; ' who is she P 
 She has been outside such a long time.' But 
 Lady Brooke did not speak, and still stood at 
 the window. Suddenly a slim, graceful figure 
 glided swiftly forward, and a lady in whom 
 Olive at once thought she recognized the pretty 
 lady of her youth whose name was Alice, put 
 her hand on the strange lady's shoulder. She 
 turned to look at the new-comer, and at that 
 moment Olive saw that, though the one face 
 was serene and peaceful, and the other worn by 
 grief and pain, the features of both were almost 
 identical, and there could be no doubt that the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 241 
 
 two ladies were sisters. The new-comer said 
 two or three kind Avords to her sister, took her 
 by the arm, and then gently but firmly led her 
 away. Both cast one look back at the window 
 where Olive and her mother were standing, and 
 both looked at Olive and not at Lady Brooke, 
 and the look, though full of distress, was 
 kind. Slowly they disappeared. Olive felt 
 shaken in every nerve. She turned to Lady 
 Brooke, hoping for some explanation. 
 
 ' What a shock it does give one to see mad 
 people ! ' ejaculated that lady, with a long sigh 
 of relief, when they were gone. ' Olive, we have 
 no time to lose : have you forgotten that we 
 liave to be at Mrs. Bertie Warrington's at two ? 
 
 ' But, mother,' said Ohve, ' don't you know 
 anything about that lady ? She looked just as 
 if she knew us. I thought she was going to 
 speak to me.' 
 
 ' Perhaps she was. Keep away from her if 
 she comes again, for it is very dangerous when 
 mad people take it into their heads to mix you 
 up with their fancies ! ' 
 
 ' But, mother, do you know nothing of her ? 
 —I ' 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
^42 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Why do you ask if I know her ? How 
 can I know her ? ' 
 
 ' She looked ' 
 
 ' She looked uncommonly like Bedlam, and 
 the woman who took her away was not much 
 better. Don't waste more time on them,' said 
 Lady Brooke imperatively, for Olive was just 
 going to say that she almost thought the second 
 lady was an old friend of Dr. Brooke's ; but 
 Lady Brooke would not listen to her. ' We 
 are to dine a little earlier this evening, and go 
 to the opera with old Lady Ellerton. I have 
 just had a note from her. Let us think of your 
 dress for this bazaar — it is a much pleasanter 
 subject than mad women.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 243 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Pleasures newly found are sweet. — Wordsworth. 
 
 'Olive, what are you doing, dear?' in- 
 quired Lady Brooke. 
 
 ' Writing to Aunt Selina.' 
 
 ' Don't waste your time ; she will never 
 read your letter.' 
 
 Olive smiled and said, ' Oh yes, she will ; 
 I know how to avoid all danger of her over- 
 looking it — I never leave a blank half sheet. 
 People who do that when they write to Aunt 
 Selina often have a bit of a chapter written on 
 the back of their letters, and then she tears it 
 off and that fragment is lost sight of.' 
 
 ' She is a foolish woman,' muttered Lady 
 Brooke unguardedly. 
 
 ' Mother ! ' cried Olive. ' I love Aunt Se- 
 lina dearly! She is very kind, and awfully clever ! ' 
 
 Lady Brooke shrugged her shoulders. ' She 
 
 r2 
 
244 THJ<. LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 is always sowing laurel-seed, but does any of it 
 ever come up ? ' 
 
 * Do you not like her novels? ' 
 
 • I like them immensely, but she says she 
 makes no money by them/ 
 
 ' You spoke of laurels — laurels do not im- 
 ply money.' 
 
 ' Oh ! laurels that are genuine are always 
 gilded. But never mind that now ; don't think 
 that I do not love your Aunt Selina because I 
 take practical views of things. I am practical ; 
 I never do anything unless I hope to benefit by 
 doing it.' 
 
 Lady Brooke was practical, and had a 
 wonderful gift of turning everything that 
 happened, no matter how unsusceptible of such 
 treatment it might at first sight appear to be, 
 into a means of obtaining some advantage for 
 herself. She had even found a way to profit 
 by Mrs. Ullathorne's last letter, though at first 
 she had resolved to take no notice of it. She 
 soon bethought herself, however, and wrote to 
 tell that lady that having, as in duty bound, 
 conveyed her wishes to her household, she was 
 sorry to say that her words had been very ill 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 246 
 
 received. The servants had been quite good 
 and settled before, but the moment she made 
 Httle complaints, and tried to exact a little more 
 work from them, it had seemed to revive ill 
 feeling, and one and all they had said that it 
 was scarcely worth while to begin to make any 
 change in their work for the short time they had 
 to stay. Under the circumstances, she advised 
 Mrs. Ullathorne not to return until this fresh 
 outbreak had blown over. Mrs. Ullathorne at 
 once wrote back to thank her kind sister for the 
 hint, and said that she had determined not to 
 return until after Christmas. She hoped her 
 sister would be able to keep house for her a 
 little longer. She knew that she could not re- 
 main in London during the hot months of the 
 year, but did not mind the servants being left 
 then, if Honora would return to London in the 
 autumn. 
 
 ' Do you think we shall leave town, mother ? ' 
 said Olive, when she heard this. 
 
 ' Not unless we get some nice invitation, I 
 fear, for your father's last cheque Avas not a very 
 large one. I am longing for some fresh air, but 
 I don't know how to get it.' 
 
246 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' We could go and spend a few weeks with 
 Aunt Lettice at Austeriield ; that would cost 
 nothing, and be dehghtfuL' 
 
 ' I have often heard you speak of the 
 dehghts of Austerfield,' said Lady Brooke drily. 
 ' I believe they consisted in wandering over 
 pasture fields and picking bunches of wild 
 flowers. Do you think you would like a month 
 or two of that kind of life now P ' 
 
 Olive was silent. 
 
 ' It is pleasant enough to gather big bunches 
 of buttercups when you are a baby, but one 
 outgrows even that.' 
 
 Olive sighed. She began to wonder if, amid 
 all the fascinations of a London season as she 
 now knew it, she had lost the capacity of enjoy- 
 ing simple country pleasures. She did not think 
 so — the thought of her happy early hfe at Aus- 
 terfield had always power to touch her most 
 profoundly. The very name of the place now 
 sent her thoughts careering back to the days of 
 her youth. She saw herself roaming carelessly 
 over flowery fields, light-hearted and free as 
 air. She had never been half so happy since 
 she left them, and if it were true that she had 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 247 
 
 outgrown all power of taking pleasiu'e in that 
 innocent and joyous existence, she could not 
 possibly be the gainer by any experience wliich 
 had taught her to despise it. 
 
 Lady Brooke was quick to guess her 
 thoughts, and said, ' It is all very well to sit 
 here trying to make yourself believe that you 
 would like to run wild again as you used to do ; 
 but, my dear, if I were to pack up a box of 
 plain old dresses for you and send you away to 
 Aunt Lettice, and tell you that you should 
 never return to London, I do not think any- 
 thing you found at Austerfield would in any 
 way compensate for what you leave behind 
 you here. Depend upon it, you would find it 
 very dull, and would heartily wish yoiurself 
 back again.' 
 
 Ohve made no answer. Perhaps Lady 
 Brooke was right. It was certainly very de- 
 lightful to live as she did now, enjoying every 
 luxury a great capital can offer, but she was not 
 going to live in this way for ever. ' Is it gay in 
 India ? ' she asked, for she often wondered 
 about India, and why her mother never talked 
 of it to her. 
 
248 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' Oh yes, it is gay — it dej^ends, of course, 
 on where you happen to be.' 
 
 'Where shall we be? Is papa always in 
 the same place ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' repHed Lady Brooke, ab- 
 sently. ' I don't suppose that you will have 
 to go out to India. It is not at all likely — at 
 least, I hope not.' 
 
 Why did Lady Brooke hope not ? Did she 
 not want her there? 
 
 ' Don't look puzzled, Olive ; I can't teU you 
 all my fancies, but my idea is that your life here 
 will be so happy that you will not want to go 
 there. But, Ohve, child, see ! here is your 
 Aunt Eaymond, and you are not ready ! You 
 ought to have gone to dress an hour ago.' 
 
 A life of continual gaiety leaves no time for 
 unravelling puzzles or indulging in disagreeable 
 reflections. Olive had only a few minutes to 
 dress for a bazaar, and an important bazaar too. 
 Mrs. Bertie Warrington, the unrivalled beauty 
 of two seasons 'last past,' had been invited 
 to preside at a stall at one of these gatherings 
 in aid of some popular charity or other, and 
 had hit upon an admirable expedient to make 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 249 
 
 her stall a marked success, and at the same 
 time to prove that she was still, and for many- 
 seasons would be, the beauty par excellence. 
 She had courageously picked out ten of the 
 very prettiest girls of that season to help her. 
 They were all to be dressed ahke ; and Mrs. 
 Warrington had devised a Warrington livery, 
 as she called it, in which she and her ten 
 assistants were to appear. They were to wear 
 dresses of the most exquisitely delicate sea-green 
 Japanese crape with buttons of tiny Indian 
 shells. Their hats were to be of the same 
 material, and it is needless to say that hats of 
 this colour were not so becoming to all the fair 
 ladies concerned as they might be to Mrs. 
 Bertie Warrington. 
 
 ' Olive will be here, dear Esther, in one 
 moment ; we have been talking, and have for- 
 gotten time.' 
 
 ' How is the great event going on ? ' asked 
 Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 'Admirably! I am in great spirits about 
 it. Sir John is a dear fellow.' Olive was to 
 go with Mrs. Eaymond, but Lady Brooke said 
 she would look in at the bazaar on her way 
 
260 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 home from some afternoon visits, and bring her 
 back with her. Just as they were about to 
 leave the house, in came Sir John Ellerton, 
 with a lovely bouquet of yellow roses. ' They 
 came from Hillborough,' said he ; 'I sent 
 expressly for yellow roses, as you said the 
 Warrington costume was to be green and gold.' 
 
 ' Green — not green and gold,' replied Mrs. 
 Eaymond. ' The dear lady fancied that no 
 one would look well in that colour but herself. 
 
 However, I venture to think ' Here she 
 
 paused with a triumphant glance at Olive, 
 whose complexion was dazzling, whose eyes 
 flashed with brilliance, and whose dress suited 
 her to perfection. 
 
 Olive was following Mrs. Eaymond out of 
 the room, when Sir John said rather pathetically, 
 ' But my roses, Miss Brooke ; I got them on 
 purpose for you ; I hoped you would wear some 
 of them to-day at the bazaar.' 
 
 ' Will you take them as a bouquet, Olive, 
 or put some of them in your hat ? ' asked 
 Lady Brooke, in a voice which admitted of uq 
 denial. 
 
 'Not as a bouquet, for I must keep my 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 251 
 
 hands free ; 1 am a work- woman to-day.' Olive 
 took off her hat and put a few rosebuds in it, 
 and could not but own gratefully that it looked 
 twice as well for the addition. Then Mrs. 
 Eaymond carried her off. They were behind 
 time, and not another moment could be spared 
 even to Sir John. 
 
 The bazaar was held in one of the fine old 
 gardens which were once common in Kensington, 
 but which are now becoming less numerous 
 every year. Large indeed was the premium, 
 it was whispered, and cruelly brief the lease, 
 which with a mighty rent gave possession of 
 this more than commonly beautiful one. There 
 were grand elm, chestnut, and poplar trees in 
 it, thickets of fragrant flowering shrubs ; there 
 was a spacious lawn with borders of old- 
 fashioned flowers, shady walks, and a very 
 pretty fountain ; and there was no sign of town, 
 unless it were that, to an epicure in colour 
 sensations, the sky at its purest had not quite 
 the clearness which it had in the country. No 
 intrusive chimney-pot suggested neighbours, and 
 if news from the humming city came there at 
 all, it was only in one grand wave-like murmur 
 
252 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 in which all sounds of common life, even down 
 to the well-nigh invincible drone of the street 
 organ, were melted together. It was really 
 hard to believe that there were streets, and 
 omnibuses, and squares, and shops — nay, dens 
 of want and wickedness — within five minutes' 
 walk. To-day, this favoured spot was at its 
 brightest ; white tents were disposed at regular 
 intervals on the lawn, seats with Persian carpets 
 and Stothard-Hke figures enjoying them were 
 scattered over it — for though the gentlemen's 
 costume might not have been entirely to that 
 great artist's mind, that of the ladies would pro- 
 bably not have been displeasing to him. A 
 band was playing, and a gay crowd moving to 
 and fro, with brilliant contrasts at every turn 
 between delicate-tinted dresses and deep green 
 leaves. The tents were for the buyers and 
 sellers. Mrs. Bertie Warrington's stall was in 
 one of the large ones ; she had been ofiered 
 a small one for herself and party, but she pre- 
 ferred to see and be seen. She and some of 
 her subordinate beauties were already there, 
 and putting last touches to some deft bits of 
 arrangement as Olive entered. The flags. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 253 
 
 flowers, bright wares and gay dresses of the 
 sellers almost dazzled her. Mrs. Bertie War- 
 rington darted a glance of displeasure at Olive's 
 rosebuds. They were not in the bond. She 
 herself had none, and she saw that she had 
 thus missed a grace which might have added to 
 her. She was arranging about twenty varieties 
 of photographs of herself in semi-concealed 
 packets ready for the crowd which would 
 madly rush to buy them. The ten beauties 
 who had come to help her saw this, and thought 
 her a *vain thing,' and all found themselves 
 secretly hoping that not a single soul would 
 wish for one portrait. They, being lesser lights, 
 and not having attained to the honour of figur- 
 ing in shop w^indows between bishops and 
 actresses or any of the savages with whom our 
 country may happen to be fighting, had no 
 claim to imagine that their photographs might 
 be required of them, and could bring none. 
 Not that these thoughts passed through Olive's 
 mind : she was too new to the whole thing for 
 that, and did not even know that she was there 
 as a beauty. She thought ready wits and an 
 active pair of hands would be all that could be 
 
254 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 demanded of her. The stall was a perfect 
 jumble of Chinese and Japanese things, Turkish 
 embroideries, crewel work, cabinets, cushions, 
 baskets from barbarous countries, and all the 
 numberless articles for which money can be 
 obtained. People might laugh at Mrs. Bertie 
 Warrington and her inferior planets, but her 
 idea proved itself to be a good one, and her 
 stall was beset with a crowd which never di- 
 minished. It was a crowd composed of lordly 
 materials, and loudly beat Mrs. Warrington's 
 heart when the band struck up ' God save the 
 Queen.' She was not disappointed. Her stall 
 was the first which was visited by royalty, and 
 just as she was selling a paper-knife to the 
 Prince of Wales, on which her own fair fingers 
 had engraved some lovely flowering grasses, a 
 gentleman said to Olive, ' I have got Mrs. 
 Warrington's photograph, and I hope you will 
 allow me to have yours also.' 
 
 ' Mine ! ' she exclaimed, blushing deeply. 
 
 ' Yes, please. The day will be very inade- 
 quately recalled to me by the portrait I have 
 got. I must have yours too.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Olive ; but a hand was laid on 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 265 
 
 her arm. It was that of Mrs. Eaymond, who 
 happened to be near and had heard. 
 
 ' Of course you must let Mr. Ardrossan 
 liave yoiu- photograph, dear. That is a thing 
 which is constantly done at bazaars.' 
 
 ' But I have none here.' 
 
 ' I'll send for a packet ; I know you have a 
 quantity at home — they will be here in half an 
 hour.' 
 
 Mrs. Eaymond despatched a messenger with 
 'a note to Lady Brooke's maid. 
 
 ' Then, I'll return in half an hour,' Mr. 
 Ardrossan had said, but he had not left the 
 corner where he was standing. It was really 
 very amusing to watch the ways of the place. 
 Mrs. Bertie Warrington sold photographs of 
 herself for any price obtainable, from ten 
 shilhngs to five guineas, and chattered away 
 regardless of sense to all comers, merrily laugh- 
 ing as she huddled up crisp bank-notes or 
 dropped chinking coins into a tall narrow china 
 jar which had been hopelessly cracked on its 
 way to the scene of action, and which she had 
 forthwith converted into her till. It had the 
 good property of being so narrow-necked that 
 
256 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 she could not put her hand into it to produce 
 change ; she gave none, therefore ; and all her 
 green maidens were as busy and nearly as ex- 
 tortionate as herself. So rapid was the disap- 
 pearance of the wares, that the stall constantly 
 needed re-arrangement. When Olive's photo- 
 graphs came, Mrs. Bertie Warrington's cup of 
 happiness was somewhat dashed, for she saw 
 Mr. Ardrossan give her a five-pound note in 
 exchange for one, and that was as much as she 
 had ever received for her own ; but one photo- 
 graph well sold will not make a reigning beauty, 
 nor yet having to write your name on the back 
 of it, as Olive was doing now. 
 
 ' There, Olive, is the whole packet for you,' 
 said Mrs. Eaymond, giving her the spoil of the 
 Kensington Square photograph-drawer. ' Sell 
 as many of them as you can; but you can't 
 expect many people to give as much as Mr. 
 Ardrossan— -he is a millionaire, you see.' 
 
 'No one else will want one,' said Olive 
 much ashamed, and she thrust the packet into a 
 corner out of sight. But she was wrong. Mr. 
 Willoughby, who had seen this transaction from 
 afar, came and urgently begged for one, and 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 257 
 
 Mr. Ambergreen and others did the same. ' Well, 
 I suppose it is a good thing for the charity,' 
 thought Olive, as she dropped guinea after guinea 
 into Mrs. Bertie Warrington's all-absorbing till ; 
 but when buyers appeared and asked for the 
 roses in her hat, to wear as ' button-holes,' she 
 was reduced to fly to her chief for advice. 
 ' Want to buy your roses ? ' said that lady, who 
 was in a great hurry, as well as rather cross 
 at Ohve's success : ' well, sell them. We come 
 here to sell things, you know ; besides, if you 
 get rid of them, it will make you like the rest 
 of the party, which you are not now.' 
 
 Then Olive saw that her poor roses had 
 been an eyesore to her chief, so she hesitated 
 no more about parting with them. She took 
 off her hat quickly, unfastened them, and sold 
 them one by one, to some gentlemen who were 
 waiting for her decision. Her skill in extract- 
 ing golden coins made her apply herself with 
 double energy to the work of temptation. She 
 was amused to see how easily bystanders could 
 be lured into becoming the owners of articles 
 which they would probably throw away ten 
 minutes afterwards, all for the sake of a few 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 pleasant words and a bright smile. She gave 
 them pleasant words and bright smiles. Mrs. 
 Bertie Warrington saw, but had no time to be 
 angry ; she had a great ambition, which was — 
 to sell off the entire contents of her stall, and 
 then volunteer to help some less fortunate 
 lady; and thus have the delight of hearing 
 that two stalls owed their clearance to the 
 beautiful Mrs. Warrington and her fair band of 
 assistants. 
 
 Sir John EUerton was in the tent. He had 
 seen Olive sell the roses, but, much as he 
 wished to approach her, the crowd was so great 
 that for some time he could not. He felt 
 bitterly mortified with what he had seen, and 
 he did not like the spectacle before him. Here 
 w^as this timid Ohve taking a dehght in making 
 vacillating buyers cumber themselves with 
 things which they would fain leave alone, and 
 effecting sales with a ra|)idity which would have 
 insured her a high salary at a West-end house. 
 At last he squeezed his way nearer to her. As 
 soon as she had a spare moment to bestow 
 on him, she offered him an anti-macassar of a 
 would-be Japanese design. The sun in its 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 269 
 
 splendour was looking urbanely askance at a 
 feeble little marigold which lurked in a distant 
 comer. He took it in his hand, and was rather 
 appeased by it. ' It is a bit of her own work,' 
 thought he, ' and she is giving me the oppor- 
 tunity of buying it.' He instantly pulled out 
 his purse. ' It is your work, Miss Brooke ? ' 
 said he. 
 
 ' Oh no, not mine,' was her answer. ' I sold 
 the little there was of mine an hour ago.' 
 
 ' Of course ! ' said he, much aggrieved, ' of 
 course you did ; and you sold all the roses I 
 brought you also ! You need not have done 
 that.' 
 
 'But I made five pounds by them,' cried 
 Olive. ' I did not want to part with the roses, 
 but I could not refuse such a large sum of 
 money as that.' 
 
 ' I would rather have given you twenty 
 than have you sell them. You made five 
 pounds, and now five fools are walking about 
 the garden outside there with yellow roses in 
 their button-holes, and telling people that they 
 were in your bonnet a quarter of an hour ago ! 
 Besides, I gave them to you,' said he ruefully. 
 
 s2 
 
260 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 ' I have ever so many more at home/ said 
 Olive kindly, but in haste to be done with this ; 
 ' I won't sell them. Sir John, you must not 
 make me talk now ; I must mind my work ; 
 people want to buy things ! ' ' It is ^ve guineas,' 
 said she to a lady with a bit of Turkish embroi- 
 dery in her hand. ' Thank you,' she added, as 
 the misguided person placed the sum in her 
 hand, and then she wondered how it was that 
 she so much enjoyed the chink of money that 
 was not going to be hers. 
 
 ' You will not even let me buy a piece of 
 work which is not your doing,' exclaimed Sir 
 John in an angry voice, and he threw the anti- 
 macassar down and left her. OHve was too 
 busy to be able to spend any time in thinking 
 how ill-tempered Sir John was. All her com- 
 panions were equally busy ; all, with bright 
 eyes and flushed cheeks, were making haste to 
 do their task well. Mrs. Bertie Warrington 
 herself was the busiest of all. Her stock of 
 photographs was diminished, her stall shorn of 
 much of its splendour. Many of the buyers 
 had taken their purchases away with them, and 
 most of the things left, displayed large white 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 261 
 
 tickets with the names of their new owners. It 
 was growing late in the afternoon, and there 
 would be no time to have the honour of clear- 
 ing another stall, but, perhaps, enough for a 
 hurried inspection of the other tents and a brief 
 enjoyment of the want of success of their occu- 
 pants. No one had sold so much as she had. 
 Her triumph was complete — complete in every- 
 way; for though some of the girls who had 
 helped her had been very much admired, that 
 was no more than she intended, and she was 
 still without a rival. She huddled away the 
 two or three things which refused to quit her 
 possession, and then said, ' Ladies, I thank you 
 cordially for the great help you have given me ; 
 I fancy that, when the sums gained are added 
 up, it will be found that we have done splen- 
 didly! Let us count for ourselves.' First she 
 spread out a Turkish table-cover, and then she 
 cried for help to break the jar which held 
 her gains. A brisk blow with a walking- 
 stick reduced it to fragments, and the work 
 of counting began. It was a goodly sum, 
 and Mrs. Bertie Warrington's heart swelled 
 with joy, and she and each weary beauty in her 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 train felt, as she threw herself back in her car- 
 riage to go home, that this had been a day of 
 unalloyed triumph. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Hear my soul speak. 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 My heart fly to your service. — Tempest. 
 
 Mrs. Eaymond was taking Olive home from 
 the bazaar, when she suddenly remembered 
 that Lady Brooke had promised to call for 
 her. ' Never mind,' said she ; ' we are now 
 almost at Kensington Square ; some one will 
 tell her that you left with me. Get a httle rest 
 if you can. How tired you will be for the 
 Academy Soiree ! ' 
 
 Olive was not exactly tired ; the excitement 
 of the day still supported her. Lady Brooke 
 had not returned. Olive ran upstairs to dress 
 for the evening. After a while a servant came 
 to tell her that Sir John EUerton was in the 
 drawing-room. She did not feel as if she 
 wanted to see him, but, as her mother had not 
 retiu-ned, was obliged to go to him as soon as 
 
264 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 possible. He was standing at one of the front 
 windows looking at the convent opposite, and 
 thinking it a much better place for young and 
 pretty girls than that which he had just quitted, 
 when Olive, beauteous in pale yellow silk, entered 
 the room. 
 
 ' I have missed my mother,' said she ; ' I 
 ought to have waited for her, but forgot, and 
 came home with my Aunt Eaymond.' 
 
 ' A day such as this has been to you no 
 doubt causes a great deal of forgetfulness,' said 
 he rather bitterly, and he could scarcely tear 
 his eyes away from the convent to bestow a 
 glance on her. Olive thought him very disa- 
 greeable, and did not see that she was bound 
 to speak again. She wondered why he had 
 come. 
 
 ' I suppose Lady Brooke will not be long,' 
 said he presently. ' She invited me to dine 
 here and go to the soiree with her — that is why 
 I am here now.' 
 
 Olive bowed. If he did not see the bow, 
 that was not her fault. He sighed heavily. 
 Then she remembered the roses, and how hurt 
 he had been about her parting with them. She 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 265 
 
 felt rather penitent, and looked round the room 
 for the remainder of his bouquet. She went to 
 the table where it was, added a few touches to 
 the arrangement which had been made by the 
 servant during her absenc^e, and then she 
 showed Sir John how pretty it looked ; but all 
 he said was, ' It is a great pity that you had not 
 the whole lot of those roses at the bazaar with 
 you.' 
 
 ' I told you I was sorry I had sold those I 
 had,' said she ; — ' that it was not quite my 
 doing ' 
 
 ' You might have made at least thirty pounds 
 if you had had these too,' he added. 
 
 Olive felt that she had heard enough about 
 these roses, and really she had been stimulated 
 to sell them quite as much by Mrs. Bertie War- 
 rington's spiteful remark as by any desire to 
 make money. Besides, she had already apolo- 
 gised to him. She put the glass down and 
 retreated to a distant window, and then he saw 
 that she was angry. He was angry too — and 
 yet he wished to set this straight ; but he was 
 afraid to speak to her, lest, in his present 
 state of irritation, he should say something 
 
266 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 which would make things worse. So he stood 
 looking out of the front drawing-room window, 
 and she out of the back. After about ten 
 minutes of this, Sir John approached Olive's 
 window and said, ' Lady Brooke does not seem 
 to be coming.' 
 
 ' No ; I wish she would, for your sake as 
 well as mine.' 
 
 He came a step nearer, but suddenly stopped 
 short and said, ' May I write a note here ^ You 
 will excuse me, I am sure — you don't seem in- 
 clined to talk.' 
 
 ' I am willing to talk about everything but 
 yellow roses — I said I was sorry I had sold 
 them, and still you reproach me.' 
 
 He began to speak, said something in an 
 excited manner which Olive did not hear, and 
 then went to the writing-table and took pen, 
 ink, and paper, but was slow to do more. He 
 sat for some time, pen in hand, looking at OHve, 
 who thought it very stupid of him not to be 
 able to get on with his note at once. At last 
 he made a dash at the paper, and then it was 
 soon covered. He folded it with a firm touch, 
 put it in an envelope with an air of extreme 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 267 
 
 decision, addressed it after another long look 
 at Olive, and just as he had done that. Lady 
 Brooke's maid came to say that her mistress 
 had come home, and was dressing with all 
 speed. The dinner was rather dull ; all were 
 tired or out of spirits. 
 
 The soiree was as pretty and interesting as 
 it always is, but OHve was much too tired to 
 enjoy it thoroughly. To her the pictures were 
 little more than an unrestful background to a 
 splendidly dressed and perpetually moving 
 crowd. The briUiant lights and shifting colours 
 confused her, the portraits on the wall blended 
 strangely with the people who came to see 
 them, and the picture of the scene which she 
 carried away in her mind's eye was little else 
 than a kaleidoscopic jumble made up of sheeny 
 silks which flashed strange lights, of sparkhng 
 jewels, blue ribbons and stars, and gay uniforms 
 which even an inch of dust could not tone 
 down to sobriety. Mr. Willoughby was there, 
 and looked sulkily mindful of Olive's bad be- 
 haviour to him. If he had approached her, 
 she would, in spite of her mother's injunctions, 
 have done her best to efface the unpleasant 
 
268 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 impression it must have made on him, but he 
 did not give her the opportunity. Mr. Ardros- 
 san was there, and bov^ed very low when he 
 saw Ohve ; but Sir John, who followed her 
 like a shadow, seemed to bar his approach, and 
 the crowd separated them. Very few pictures 
 printed themselves on Ohve's mind. The dra- 
 gons were not terrible enough to alarm her — 
 the distressed maidens who awaited their 
 approach, not beautiful enough to excite her 
 sympathy. The picture of the year was the 
 interior of Blue-Beard's conservatory of de- 
 parted wives, and most of the beauties of the 
 day — Mrs. Bertie Warrington amongst the 
 number — were depicted hanging to large hooks 
 by their back hair. Some connoisseurs, how- 
 ever, gave the palm to ' Allerleirauh,' whose 
 mantle was most exquisitely painted. A long 
 quotation from Grimm explained the motive of 
 the picture. Allerleirauh was a beautiful 
 princess, who, in order to postpone her marriage 
 sine die, insisted that the fur and feathers of a 
 thousand different species of beasts and birds 
 should be gathered together and worked into a 
 mantle for her. The thousand different tex- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 269 
 
 tiires of the garment were rendered with 
 most admirable fidehty, and there was a con- 
 stant buzz of dehghted amazement before this 
 picture. 
 
 Olive's eyes strayed away from these garish 
 glories to a smaller picture which was placed 
 just above. A bit of blue sky and an ash- 
 bough drooping down to a river bed with quiet 
 grey stones in it, made her wish that the pea- 
 cock's eyes of this mythical lady's mantle were 
 not so bright, or the red of her hair not so 
 pronounced ; for, whether this landscape was 
 well or ill painted, she felt a pleasure in looking 
 at it. The artist had done his best to realise a 
 scene like ever so many that she remembered, 
 with little thought, perhaps, of the fantastic 
 juxtaposition which his work was destined to 
 suffer. 
 
 A block occurred. One or two vigorous 
 technicahties which met her ear showed that 
 the crowd was not entirely composed of non- 
 workers or of sympathetic amateurs ; and if 
 she had been at all acquainted with the lan- 
 guage of the studio, she might have gathered 
 what some of the painter's brethren, at all 
 
270 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 events, thought of the picture which interested 
 her. 
 
 'He's got a deal of good stuff into that 
 picture,' said a gentleman with a long waving 
 brown beard. 
 
 ' H'm ! Far too much ! ' muttered another. 
 ' He was at it down there last autumn. He 
 wants breadth sadly, to my mind.' 
 
 ' I saw him there too,' said a third ; ' I told 
 him at the time he was getting it as tight as a 
 drum ! ' 
 
 ' Tight ! ' exclaimed a fourth. ' No, the 
 brush-work's good enough. Mind, that foxy 
 thing below plays the very mischief with its 
 tone. It will look all right when it comes out. 
 Has old Gregson got it ? ' 
 
 ' No, he has bought those herring-boats. 
 He said he was short of marines.' 
 
 ' Ardrossan is turning a very good buyer, 
 but he is using up his wall-space far too fast.' 
 The speaker turned round, and encountered 
 Mr. Ardrossan's fixed gaze. He had come to 
 look at Olive's picture. Faintly disconcerted, 
 the artist and his friends moved away; and just 
 as Mr. Ardrossan was saying a few words to 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 271' 
 
 Olive, and she was waiting an opportunity to 
 ask him some questions about the landscape 
 she liked so much, Sir John Ellerton came up 
 and broke off the conversation by saying, ' Miss 
 Brooke, I am sent by Lady Brooke : she is in 
 the supper-room, and wishes you to join her. 
 Will you take my arm? ' 
 
 Olive was very sorry he had not waited five 
 minutes longer. She wished Mr. Ardrossan 
 had been the one to offer his arm. Sir John 
 was never much of a companion, and to-night 
 he was duller than usual. 
 
 The first thing which met Olive's sight when 
 she returned home from Burlington House was 
 a note from Sir John to herself lying on the 
 hall table with the other letters. He had laid 
 it there as he went out. She felt vexed when 
 she saw it ; she did not care for him enough 
 to enjoy a quarrel with him, and this, no doubt, 
 was a continuation of the great yellow-rose dis- 
 pute, or perhaps apologies for what had already 
 occurred. 
 
 ' For you, Olive,' said Lady Brooke suspi- 
 ciously, as they went upstairs together. 
 
 ' Yes, for me, but I am sure I don't want 
 
272 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 it. What can lie have to write about ? he only 
 left us twenty minutes since, and dreadfully tire- 
 some he has been ! ' Olive opened the note 
 listlessly, but soon uttered a cry of surprise — it 
 was an offer of marriage as well as an apology. 
 * What a nuisance ! ' she cried, as she tossed it 
 across the table to Lady Brooke. ' How can 
 he be so stupid ? ' 
 
 ' My dear child,' cried Lady Brooke warmly, 
 ' with all my heart I congratulate you on 
 having won the love of a very good and honour- 
 able man I I have seen this coming for some 
 time, and it has made me very happy.' 
 
 Olive looked rueful. ' What am I to do 
 about it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing to-night, of course. You have 
 had a long tiring day; don't let this prevent 
 your sleeping.' 
 
 ' But it will. I shall be thinking all night 
 long how to say no civilly.' 
 
 ' Say no ! ' cried Lady Brooke ; ' I never 
 heard of such folly! How can you say 
 no?' 
 
 'I do not want to say yes.' 
 
 ' But it would be madness to say no.' 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 273 
 
 ' Would it ? I am very sorry — but why 
 madness, if it is what I wish to say ? ' 
 
 ' Do you not love him ? ' 
 
 ' Love him ! — of course not ! ' 
 
 ' You don't dislike him ? ' 
 
 ' By no means — I am indifferent — I have no 
 particular feehng of any kind about him, except 
 when he is as disagreeable as he was to-day.' 
 
 ' Ah, I see,' said Lady Brooke. ' He has 
 been too precipitate — that's all — for, no girl in 
 her senses could be indifferent to what he offers 
 you. Think what he offers you, and what a 
 kind rich husband he would be ! You would 
 spend your life in perfect happiness.' 
 
 ' But I am quite happy now without him.' 
 
 ' I dare say you are — most people would be 
 so — but how long do you expect your present 
 life to last ? A vory short time, I should say, if 
 you look on things properly. Let me advise you 
 not to count on much more of it ; but we won't 
 talk of that now : the thing to settle is what 
 kind of an answer to give Sir John. I think, 
 myself, that he has been in too great a hurry ; 
 but I dare say your little quarrel to-day is 
 partly to blame for that. Answer a few 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 questions, Olive — ^you have no invincible dislike 
 to him?' 
 
 ' Certainly not. As a mere friend I rather 
 like him, but that is all. I know I shall never 
 do more.' 
 
 ' How can you tell? ' 
 
 ' I am certain I shall not.' 
 
 ' Then, I am certain you will like him a 
 great deal more — quite certain ; and, at any 
 rate, there can be no harm in trying.' 
 
 ' What is the use of trying? I know I 
 never shall.' 
 
 ' Olive, I must know better than you. It 
 would be very wrong not to try. Let me 
 answer Sir John. Let me tell him that he has 
 been too precipitate — ^that you have no feeling 
 with regard to him which would permit you to 
 accept him now. Let me beg him to continue 
 on his old footing of friendliness, and not to 
 say another word about this until I give him a 
 hint that he may. You yourself can tell me 
 when I may do that.' 
 
 ' And if I never tell you to give him this 
 lint, nothing more will be said ? ' exclaimed 
 31ive, who felt that, if the matter could be 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 275 
 
 thus arranged, she was slipping very agreeably 
 out of a disagreeable situation. 
 
 ' Exactly,' replied Lady Brooke. ' But, 
 Olive, you must marry some one, and I do not 
 see how you could find anyone half so good 
 and kind and handsome as poor Sir John. 
 And now go to bed. It is two o'clock ; you 
 had better have a long rest in the morning. If 
 you are up in time for Mrs. Beauchamp's 
 luncheon, that is quite enough ; that you 
 must be.' 
 
 ' You must marry some one,' repeated Olive 
 to herself, as she went upstairs. ' I wonder 
 whether that is true. How odd it sounds ! ' 
 Well, even if it were certain that she must 
 marry some one, she did not believe she should 
 ever marry Sir John ; but she was too utterly 
 weary to care much about that or anything, 
 and fell asleep almost as soon as her head 
 touched the pillow. 
 
 Lady Brooke was astir betimes, and off to 
 Lady EUerton's house in Wilton Place. She 
 saw both mother and son. She told Sir John 
 all that she had said she would tell him, and 
 just a httle more ; for she allowed him to be- 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE LEADEN CASKET, 
 
 lieve that Olive was, on the whole, very well 
 disposed to his suit, but not prepared to pledge 
 herself for life on so short an acquaintance. 
 ' She must see more of you,' said Lady Brooke. 
 ' She must see you more intimately, and get to 
 know how good and kind you are, and how 
 safe it would be for her to entrust her happiness 
 to your keephig ; then I am sure she would say 
 yes, and be as happy when she had done so as 
 either you or I could wish.' Lady Brooke had, 
 as usual, a scheme, and was, as usual, entirely 
 successful. 
 
 ' You think I may hope a little ? ' 
 ' I think you might hope a great deal, if 
 she knew you better. I must try to arrange to 
 throw you together more unrestrainedly — but I 
 am sure I don't know how to do it. We are 
 never alone in London ; or, if such a thing 
 does occur for once, one happy day drives 
 another into the background. Let me see — 
 how difficult every thing is ! This is July — 
 the very end of July — my sister, Mrs. Ulla- 
 thorne, will probably return in the autumn, and 
 then we shall have to go to India.' 
 
 This was the first time Lady Brooke had 
 
.THE LEADEN CASKET. 277 
 
 ever fixed a date for her return, and Sir John 
 had doubtless often heard her talk in a very 
 different strain ; but a lover's heart is always 
 open to alarms, and India is so very far away. 
 
 ' Oh, don't fix any time for your return ! ' 
 cried he. 
 
 ' And could you not spend a month or two 
 with us in Scotland ? ' said Lady EUerton. 'We 
 go down there in ten days — at least, I do, 
 for I am afraid my son will not go unless you 
 do.' 
 
 This was the very thing Lady Brooke was 
 pining to do. She was for the moment weary 
 of London and its fatigues, and longing for 
 coolness and rest and fresh air. ' It would be 
 very nice — delightful ! I must ask Olive.' 
 
 ' You seem in as great bondage to Olive as 
 I am to this big boy of mine,' exclaimed Lady 
 Ellerton, looking tenderly at her handsome son. 
 
 ' I think I won't be in bondage,' said Lady 
 Brooke. ' Tell me when you would like us to 
 come, and I will accept your kind invitation as 
 freely as you give it.' 
 
 ' We go on the 9th ; we are forced to be 
 there a day or two before the 12th. We shall 
 
278 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 be delighted to receive you as soon after the 
 9th as you can come.' 
 
 'Oh, but have you a large party?' said 
 Lady Brooke, who sincerely hoped they had. 
 
 ' Oh no, some few friends are coming, but 
 we will try to keep our numbers down ; we will 
 let the young folks have every opportunity of 
 seeing each other.' 
 
 ' And that is all that is required to make 
 them happy in the way we wish,' ejaculated 
 Lady Brooke fervently. ' She loves you already 
 as a mother ; I know she does.' 
 
 Olive's scruples were overruled. She said 
 that, ' under the circumstances, it would be 
 very disagreeable to be in the same house with 
 Sir John, and be obliged to see so much of 
 him.' 
 
 ' I think it is his mother's house, and I do 
 not see how anyone could have a stronger 
 motive to pay a visit than you have now. He 
 is a very kind, nice fellow, and has been ex- 
 tremely good to us. It would be frightfully 
 bad conduct to refuse to pay this visit. He 
 says that he hopes, when you know him better, 
 you will like him more. You can't say, " I don't 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 279 
 
 want to know you better or like you more," 
 for a refusal to go to Scotland would be tanta- 
 mount to saying that.' 
 
 ' But would it be so wrong, when I am cer- 
 tain it is of no use to go ? ' 
 
 Lady Brooke turned round with a Ught in 
 her eyes which Olive had never seen before. 
 ' Of course it would ! Olive, I sometimes 
 wonder at you.' 
 
 ' It is not that I don't want to care for him, 
 it is that I can't. If you allow me a choice, I 
 should like to dechne this visit.' 
 
 ' I allow you no choice. Of course we go 
 to Scotland. Our visit there does not in any 
 way bind you to accept Sir John. It only 
 amounts to this, that you have sufficient regard 
 for my wishes to go to Invergrudie, and to do 
 your best to see him in a favourable light when 
 there — I insist on your doing that ! ' 
 
 ' But then you wiU make him promise not 
 to be always teasing me to marry him ? He is 
 not to say another word about it until I say he 
 may.' 
 
 ' Agreed,' said Lady Brooke. 
 
280 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 The very place puts toys of desperation, 
 Without more motive, into every brain. — Hamlet. 
 
 Invergrudie, Sir John EUerton's shooting- 
 lodge, was two miles from the head of one of 
 the finest lochs on the west coast of Scotland — 
 one which stretched in three long windings for 
 nearly twenty miles from the sea. Olive had 
 caught a glimpse of the loch from the top of the 
 pass through which she was driving, and veiy 
 spectral and forbidding the mountain ranges, 
 sweeping down to the leaden-coloured water, 
 with a straight grey line of cloud cutting off their 
 summits, and a band of fading yellow sky below, 
 had appeared to her. She had never seen a 
 mountain, but had read many fine things about 
 them, and was quite prepared to find them 
 going straight up into the clouds — nay, even 
 leaning over in places ; but her first impression, 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 281 
 
 SO far, was one of dreariness rather than of sub- 
 hmity. Lady Brooke may have had the same 
 feehng ; for when the carriage stopped at the 
 lodge-gate she exclaimed, ' I would rather see 
 the inside of the Eller tons' house than all the 
 tiresome mountains in the world ! ' 
 
 Sir John had heard the sound of wheels ; 
 he was waiting for his guests by the open door. 
 Lady Ellerton received them most warmly, and 
 after their long and tiring journey the prospect 
 of rest seemed delicious. Lady Ellerton took 
 them upstairs, and, having left Lady Brooke in 
 the room which was to be hers, took Olive to 
 one near it — the prettiest in the house, and said, 
 ' I have chosen this for you, dear, because I 
 fancied you would like the view from it. You 
 must stay with us three months, and then I hope 
 you will have learnt for yourself what a dear 
 fellow my son is. He is rather shy and re- 
 served, but when you know him, one of the 
 most warm-hearted and honourable men living ! 
 Don't look frightened, dear — I shall not say 
 another word on this subject ; but you know 
 what is the wish of my heart, as well as his.' 
 
 ' But,' said Olive nervously — and tears 
 
282 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 stood in her eyes as she spoke — 'if I find I 
 can't ' 
 
 Lady Ellerton kissed her kindly. 'Dear 
 child, it will be a great grief to me, but I shall 
 still be the gainer by this visit.' Lady EUerton's 
 pretty courtesies made Olive feel quite happy. 
 
 Very eagerly indeed did she draw up the 
 blind of her window next morning and look 
 out. Beyond the garden and a fir-plantation 
 stretched a level plain, with a few humpy 
 hillocks and low bushes here and there, and 
 patches of heather ; then came a thin line of 
 intensely blue water, and over this rose a bare 
 mass of mountain, shapeless and her bless, but 
 bright and ruddy with the morning sun, which 
 made every scar and furrow visible. One white 
 fleck of mist was hovering in the ravine between 
 it and its neighbour mountain, which was 
 steeper, and seemed to assume more of the airs 
 of chieftainship. Olive did not at first think 
 much of their height, but gradually she began 
 to make out, on the sides of the further moun- 
 tain, the red stems of fir-trees ; she could 
 trace fine threads of silver among its rough- 
 nesses of rock and stone ; and the smoke which 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 283 
 
 rose from a rude hovel at the foot of this silver- 
 streaked wall made her feel that the element of 
 size, at all events, was not wanting m the 
 scene. She longed to see more, especially to 
 see round that point which stopped the line of 
 blue water. 
 
 For the first fortnight she had more oppor- 
 tunity of improving her acquaintance with Lady 
 EUerton than with her son. A large party had 
 been asked to Invergrudie before OHve herself 
 had been invited. These were principally 
 gentlemen, and to them Sir John was obliged 
 to devote himself. This did not seem to pre- 
 vent him from being perfectly happy. He and 
 they gave their whole minds to slaughter, and 
 even when at home their thoughts ran almost 
 entirely in that direction. Sometimes, when 
 they were shooting or fishing in some manage- 
 able district where they could be approached 
 by carriages, the ladies conveyed their luncheon 
 to them ; but, for the most part, they were 
 absent until dinner-time, when they came home 
 full of their day's sport and of other days 
 which lay before them. Sir John Ellerton 
 seemed another being. The truth, however, 
 
284 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 was, that he was not quite so absorbed in the 
 pleasures of sport as he appeared ; but he had 
 received so many admonitions as to his behaviour 
 to Ohve, and had been obhged to give so many 
 promises not even to hint at his affection for 
 her until he received permission, that he was 
 afraid to approach her even in the presence of 
 others. He liked to think that she was staying 
 in his house, and that he should have the 
 pleasure of seeing her when he went home ; 
 but as for talking to her, or doing anything to 
 advance his suit, he dared not ; besides, he felt 
 that his dear, quick-witted mother was sure 
 to be working for him in his absence, and 
 would manage everything a thousand times 
 better for him than he could possibly do for 
 himself. Olive seemed supremely happy, and 
 his heart grew light as he saw it. She was 
 never tired of roaming about the garden and 
 grounds. 
 
 * You should join her sometimes,' said Lady 
 EUerton. 
 
 ' I can't. You have forced me to make so 
 many promises, that I feel as if I dared not say 
 anything at all to her. I never seem to have 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 285 
 
 anything to say when I am with her now. If 
 she would let things be settled as we wish, it 
 would be quite different.' 
 
 ' She is very fond of animals,' said his 
 mother. ' Show her your dogs and horses, and 
 let her see how fond they are of you — that 
 would please her.' 
 
 Next day, in came Sir John with a very 
 pretty pigeon in his hand — a shy- eyed, bright - 
 necked, fluttering little creature, which cared 
 for no caresses. Olive took it in her hand, 
 but the longing to escape which she saw in the 
 bird's eyes pained her. ' It is kind of you to 
 bring this pretty creature to show me,' said 
 she, ' but it makes it very miserable — may I 
 open the window and let it go ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no,' cried he, taking it from her and 
 putting it into his pocket again ; ' I am going 
 to fly my falcon on the terrace ; will you come 
 and see it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' was her answer ; ' but what has the 
 falcon to do with the pigeon ? ' 
 
 ' Come and see. It is very pretty to see 
 it strike it.' 
 
 Olive shuddered. ' But you don't deliver 
 
286 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 over that poor frightened little thing to a great 
 cruel falcon ? ' 
 
 ' I must keep the falcon in practice,' repHed 
 Sir John. 
 
 ' Tell me what you do.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' cried Lady Ellerton, ' don't talk 
 about it — I hate it too ! The pigeon has no 
 chance — I hate all unequal matches. Take it 
 away, John — ^I wish you would get rid of that 
 falcon.' 
 
 No more pigeons were brought to Olive, 
 but she knew that they were immolated daily ; 
 and she was not fond of men who spent the 
 cream of their lives in shooting, and could not 
 endure Sir John's habit of calHng the troops 
 of pretty rabbits which she was constantly sur- 
 prising, and which tossed up their heels and 
 scampered off at her approach, ' nasty vermin.' 
 Her ideal of perfect happiness was to dwell in 
 some place Hke Invergrudie on terms of such 
 close friendship with all living creatures that 
 they should look on her as one of their best 
 friends, and never dream of taking to flight 
 when she surprised them. She wondered much 
 at Sir John and his companions. They were 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 287 
 
 living in the most exquisite scenery — they never 
 so much as thought of it apart from the shoot- 
 able creatures which it harboured — mountains, 
 moors, and lochs were simply growing-grounds 
 for birds, beasts, and fishes, which did not 
 flourish without these advantages. They went 
 out early, came home late — so tired, too, that 
 it was just as much as they could sometimes do 
 to keep awake ; but of what value was their 
 day's work to anyone? Wliat was their aim 
 in life ? Ohve could discover none beyond a 
 desire to get over their time pleasantly. Politics 
 touched some of them a little ; but only in the 
 way of personal hatred of those who thought 
 differently from themselves, for whom no exe- 
 cration was too deep. There were books at 
 Invergmdie; but Sir John had read none of 
 them, and if he hved to a hundred would read 
 nothing but a sporting novel or newspaper. 
 Whatever might be Olive's feeling with regard 
 to Sir John, she was quite in love with his 
 mother. She had admired her in London, but 
 now she learnt to know her thoroughly, It was 
 a daily dehght to her to watch the pretty white- 
 haired old lady fulfil the duties of her happy 
 
288 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 country life with a grace and kindliness which 
 added a charm to the most insignificant of 
 them. She was so sweet-natured, and so neces- 
 sary to the well-being of her whole household, 
 that no event ever took place of which she was 
 not the mainspring and centre. She was beloved 
 by everyone in the house. Dogs, cats, birds, 
 and horses were all dear friends of hers ; and 
 though she sat so placidly with her knitting and 
 embroidery in her hands that anyone might 
 have said that she allowed nothing to distract 
 her from her work but an occasional peep at a 
 jagged edge of Ben Luichart which towered 
 above the silver birches and pines of the park, 
 these quiet mornings of Lady EUerton's always 
 brought good to some one near her. Olive 
 loved her instinctively, and soon found herself 
 telling all her thoughts to her. She talked to 
 Lady EUerton about Austerfield and Aunt 
 Lettice, of her anxiety about her uncle's health, 
 of her dread lest her father might not love her 
 when he saw her, and of every other fear or 
 fancy which agitated her heart. Nothing was 
 kept back from her new friend except such 
 things as related to Sir John, and Olive could 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 289 
 
 even have spoken of him to Lady Ellerton with 
 far more ease than to her own mother. Lady 
 Brooke was thoroughly comfortable at Inver- 
 grudie — a trifle dull ; but she was worn out by 
 the gaieties of London and really required a 
 rest, and she was enjoying one now which was 
 perfect. She stayed in her own room until 
 mid-day, and then, wrapped in a deliciously 
 warm white shawl of Lady Ellerton's knitting, 
 she seated herself in some pleasant corner in the 
 garden. When Olive and Lady Ellerton had 
 gone their little rounds of chicken-feeding and 
 conservatory- visiting, they found her there look- 
 ing soft and purring and velvety. She really 
 looked very pretty ; her delicate colour was 
 returning, her smooth brown hair lay softly 
 on her temples, she spoke in tender cooing 
 accents, and seemed to have settled down at 
 Invergrudie for life. 
 
 It was many weeks before Sir John ven- 
 tured to seek Olive's society except as it were 
 by accident. Then he sometimes deserted his 
 friends and joined her in her little walks. ' You 
 are not dull here ? ' he said. 
 
 ' Oh no, very happy. I never saw moun- 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 tains till I came here — how splendid they are, 
 and how they grow on one I ' 
 
 ' I never fancied you would be happy in a 
 country place. No one who knew you in 
 London could have imagined you would be. 
 You thought of nothing but balls and parties 
 from early morning till late night.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Olive, rather ashamed ; ' but 
 it was my first season — I should tire of that.' 
 
 ' Nay, I don't quarrel with you for it ; one 
 must do something. I am sure I should be very 
 dull in town if I did not go out so much ; — -just 
 as I should be dull here if I had no shooting ; 
 — ^but you have nothing at all here, and that is 
 why it is so good of you to seem so happy.' 
 
 ' Nothing here ! the place is beautiful. I 
 could look at the lights upon those mountains 
 for hours together ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, I am so glad ! If you Hke being here 
 ■^ — we could always — but I am forgetting — ' 
 ;said he, checking himself by a violent effort — 
 ' we are not to talk about thaV 
 
 Olive liked him infinitely better at Inver- 
 grudie than she had ever done in London, but 
 she, too, did not want to talk about that 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 291 
 
 ' My mother has been telling me,' he con- 
 tinued, ' how fond you were of some country 
 place where you stayed when you were a child 
 — a very jolly place with a running stream 
 through some meadows. I wish you would go 
 a httle walk with me — we have never had a 
 walk together yet. I want to show you a stream 
 we have here. It is really rather fine, and it's 
 a place you can't see when you are driving.' 
 
 ' I should like very much to see it ; but if 
 we go, won't they wonder where we are ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, they will guess that we are out 
 together, and that, you know, will please them, 
 for they are awfully anxious that we should — 
 oh, I beg your pardon ; I am always forget- 
 ting ! But let me show you the stream — they 
 will know we are all right.' 
 
 Sir John's blunders were very stupid ; but, 
 on the whole, Ohve liked him rather better 
 for them. They, at any rate, showed that his 
 mind was so full of the one subject of herself 
 and of his wish that she should care for him, 
 that everything which was said led up to it 
 with absolute certainty. 
 
 They left the grounds for their walk Sir 
 
 tj2 
 
292 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 John was equipped for a clay's shooting ; and, 
 as he led Olive across a rough bit of the moor, 
 she could not help smiling at the contrast there 
 was between herself and her big companion, 
 and the Olive and Willie of other days. She 
 was now dressed in a pretty white cambric — 
 not even a crease ruffled its purity — her hat 
 was a white straw with lace and primroses. 
 The Olive of old used to be often rather dirty 
 and dilapidated. She fell into the streams, or 
 tore her frock, or got ' over her boot-tops ' in 
 the mud. The Olive of the present day was, 
 as her maid would have said, ' much more 
 conformable.' 
 
 It was the very day for a long walk. Her 
 bright eyes brightened with pleasure at all she 
 saw, and her pretty colour grew still prettier. 
 Sir John strode on by her side with rich sun- 
 burnt face. There was a look of faint anxiety 
 in his intensely deep blue eyes. 
 
 ' I know,' said he, ' that this river of ours is 
 nothing very particular — not grand in any way, 
 or the kind of thing to make the least bit of 
 fuss about, but still I should like you to see 
 it — you might admire it. Tell me what the 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 293 
 
 river you used to care about so much was like 
 — I hope it was not bigger than ours.' 
 
 ' Eiver ! ' laughed Olive ; ' it was not a 
 river at all ! It was a common little running 
 stream ; but it went zig-zagging about the 
 fields, and sometimes its banks were high, and 
 sometimes they were low, and bits of them 
 fell off and made islands, and you could stand 
 on them, and it had fancies of its own, and at 
 one time it would flow on tolerably quietly in 
 a smooth brown current with something Hke 
 shooting stars of gold in it, and at another it 
 dashed quite fiercely against the stones that 
 came in its way, and made the prettiest gurgling 
 noises possible.' 
 
 'Still,' pleaded Sir John, 'you don't care 
 so much for that stream and that country place 
 where it was, that you could never let yourself 
 be fond of any other ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ! that would be absurd ! Of 
 course I could be fond of another, and many 
 others — it is merely a pleasant recollection of 
 a happy time when I was a child ; I should 
 have forgotten about the little village where 
 it was, long ago, I dare say, if I had been to 
 
294 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 other country places since ; but I have not. 
 I have been from home, of course, but only to 
 horrible sea-side towns with crowded beaches 
 — Eamsgate, and Brighton, and Margate.' 
 
 ' How was Dr. Brooke when you last heard 
 from him ? ' inquired Sir John. 
 
 ' Oh, better ! he is at home, but he has to be 
 very careful. This illness of his is such a bad thing 
 for him — he will lose his practice if it goes on.' 
 
 ' I have been thinking,' said he, ' supposing 
 that thing which we are not to talk about takes 
 place — that all goes well, you know,' he added 
 nervously, 'and you are some day mistress 
 here — let me say it — ^it is for the sake of saying 
 something about Dr. Brooke — this mountain 
 air is the very best thing for doing good to 
 people who are ill as he is, and he could come 
 here whenever he liked, and go backwards and 
 forwards to his patients sometimes — they would 
 never know when he was away. You would 
 like that, wouldn't you, if it cured him ? ' 
 
 Like that ! Olive's love for her uncle was 
 a passion — if coming here would restore his 
 health — she was almost tempted to — she sighed 
 at first, she could not speak — then she remem- 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 295 
 
 bered that she must not let Sir John indulge 
 false hopes, and said, ' Please don't let us talk 
 of that, Sir John.' 
 
 ' Pardon me,' said he, ' I know I ought 
 not, but I never liked any man more than I 
 liked your uncle when I first saw him.' Olive 
 looked at him as he said this, and thought she 
 had never seen an honester'and kinder face. 
 They were walking along a wide rough road 
 across the moor. The heather was bright with 
 purple flowers, the air was light and exhila- 
 rating ; it made Olive feel so buoyant and happy, 
 that she could readily beheve in its power of 
 healing. ' What is that break in the grass and 
 heather ? ' she asked after a while. 
 
 ' That's the river ! That's where we are 
 going. It is a dangerous sort of place — you 
 never know there is a river at all until you are 
 on the bank just above it ! ' 
 
 That was true, but that was not the worst ; 
 for when you were on these banks you found 
 that they were deeply undercut, and had a 
 trick of falhng. The channel of the river, 
 which was some twenty feet below, was nearly 
 choked up by masses of rock and earth which 
 
296 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 had fallen. Througli these a dark sluggish 
 chocolate-coloured stream slowly wound its 
 way, or lay in sullen and malignant-looking 
 pools. Sometimes it was lost to view altogether, 
 and once when Ohve bent forward to try to 
 trace it, she found it was steahng in a deep 
 inky current under the very bit of bank on 
 which she was standing. The bank was under- 
 cut, and the lower part of it thoroughly worn 
 away by the deadly persistence of the stream. 
 She started back terrified, and could have 
 clung to Sir John for safety. He saw little 
 cause for alarm. ' If we were to fall in ! ' 
 said she, shuddering. 
 
 ' It would be all over with us. These pools 
 are tremendously deep, and then the banks are 
 precipitous — no, a fellow would have a mighty 
 poor chance who got in there ! ' 
 
 ' But how grand the river is ! ' cried she. 
 ' It is awful to see it stealthily eating at the 
 very Hfe of those rocks ; and then, in the places 
 where it has got its way and worked them out 
 and made a deep bed for itself, how it swirls 
 round and round, and seems to enjoy itself in 
 horrible, cruel delight ! ' Olive was fascinated. 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET. 297 
 
 ' Do you like it ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Like it ! Oh no,' cried she. ' It is a fine 
 sight, but so awful, I can hardly bear to look — 
 I shall dream of this.' 
 
 ' Then I ought not to have brought you,' 
 said Sir John, afraid she would like Invergrudie 
 less now that she knew of this treacherous enemy 
 which lay so near it. 
 
 ' Oh no, thank you for bringing me — I owe 
 a strange new sensation to you — but do look 
 there ! ' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' cried Sir John, afraid that she 
 had become aware of yet another danger. 
 
 ' Look at those ferns — I'd give anything to 
 get them, but it is quite impossible.' 
 
 One fern was much the same as another to 
 Sir John, who said, ' I dare say you will find 
 lots of them nearer home.' 
 
 ' Oh no, it is a rare kind ; I. saw a picture 
 of it in Sowerby last night, and thought then 
 how I should like to find it myself.' 
 
 ' I'll get it for you,' he cried with great 
 alacrity. 
 
 ' How ? You are not going to try to 
 get across the river. I could not think of 
 
298 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 allowing you to climb down those rocks for 
 me.' 
 
 ' No one could do that ! ' he replied, smiling 
 at her townish ignorance ; ' besides, the water 
 is often twenty feet deep ! No, I am not going 
 that way. Will you wait here till I run home ? 
 I'll soon get you as many plants of it as you 
 like.' 
 
 Ohve thought he was going round some 
 other way. ' I'll wait,' she said ; ' but I don't 
 think I dare stay here ; I shall be sucked into 
 the river in spite of myself, if I do. It has 
 such a strange fascination.' 
 
 ' No, not here : come with me ; I'll put you 
 somewhere where you will be quite out of 
 danger.' He was pleased to think that she felt 
 safe while with him — he was very happy. He 
 led her back to the road, and cut down a 
 quantity of heather, with which he made a 
 bright flowery throne for her. ' Now promise 
 to sit there till I return, and not to go near the 
 river.' That done, he ran off homewards. He 
 was wonderfully quick, and soon disappeared. 
 ' Poor fellow ! ' thought Olive, ' he does not mind 
 taking a httle trouble for me.' After some 
 
THE LEADEN CASKET, 299 
 
 time he returned with a long pole in his 
 hand, but no ferns. ' But the ferns ? ' she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 ' I have not got them yet.' 
 
 ' I thought you were going across some 
 bridge. I have been expecting every instant 
 to see you on the other side.' 
 
 'There is no bridge! That's not how I 
 mean to do it.' 
 
 ' Then, you hook them over with that pole,' 
 said OHve ; ' but I can't think how you mean 
 to do it. You may poke them out of the 
 ground with your pole, if it is long enough, 
 but they will all fall into the river when you 
 have done it.' 
 
 He laughed and said, ' Come and see how 
 I get them, but you shall not go near the river's 
 edge.' He took her throne in his arms, and 
 put it down at a safe distance ; he made her 
 promise not to stir from it during his absence ; 
 then he went to the very edge of the bank, 
 fixed his pole on a flat rock in the centre of 
 the stream, and with one swinging leap he was 
 high in mid-air, and when he descended he was 
 across the river. Olive had never either seen 
 
300 THE LEADEN CASKET. 
 
 or dreamed of such a proceeding, but he was 
 safe almost before she could scream. The ferns 
 grew just under the edge of the opposite bank 
 — ^he soon came back with some. 
 
 ' Supposing you had swerved, or slipped, 
 and fallen in ? ' said she, still unreconciled to 
 the danger which he had incurred. 
 
 ' You would have been sorry for me, at any 
 rate,' said he tenderly. ' But there was not the 
 least danger — ^I did nothing that was not per- 
 fectly easy and safe — don't fancy I did.' He 
 helped her to put the ferns in a bundle, and 
 together they went home. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 gPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUAEB 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET 
 
?/-