MDYhOffATER', 
 
 *— — i*— ' iMMM— w iiiiiii i I 1 1 r iii i i i ij Miiii a i ai i ii i iiwiriiwn' 
 
 COMPANIOK 
 
 AUTHOR OF ST. OMffiS
 
 LADY LOWATER'S COMPANION. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBRAEIES. 
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. By John M. Fothergill. 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 VENUS' DOVES. By Ida Ashworth Taylor. 3 vols. 
 KEEP TROTH. By Walter L. Bicknell, M.A. 3 vols. 
 THE MASTER OF ABERFELDIE. By James Grant, 
 
 author of ' The Romance of War,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 THE MAN SHE CARED FOR. By F. W. Robinson, 
 
 author of ' Grandmothers Money,' 'No Church,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 HURST & BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
 
 LADY LOWATER'S COMPANION 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ST. OLAVE'S," "JANITA'S CROSS," "ANNETTE, 
 
 " THE SENIOR SONGMAN," 
 
 &c., &c. 
 
 ' This is the condition of the battle, which man 
 that is born upon the earth shall fight ; that if he be 
 overcome, he shall suffer.' — Esdras. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/ladylowaterscomp01tabo
 
 
 
 ? $Jt:^'^l 
 
 1 
 
 i LADY LOWATER'S COMPANIOK 
 T 
 
 y — 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ■ LowATEK Court stood on rising ground, a 
 
 mile or two away from the coast ; massive, 
 
 broad-shouldered, low-browed, firmly 
 
 ^ planted to hold its own against the storms 
 
 ^^ which in autumn-time came driving up 
 
 . from seaAvard. Whoever built that house 
 
 "^ had built it for use, only for use. Neither 
 
 "^ pillar, pediment, nor gable broke the out- 
 
 ^ line of its solid front, which had now stood 
 
 .the chance and chano^e of five centuries. 
 
 ^Not a fragment of sculptured leaf or 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 ^ LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 flower adorned the miiUions and transoms 
 of its Avindows. Not so much as a bit of 
 cornice could be seen upon the square 
 stacks of chimneys along its roof ridge, 
 nor did the smallest hint of battlemented 
 parapet make an outlet for the winds to 
 scream through, when in winter their 
 rough music roused all the country round. 
 Lowater Court was builded too:ether like 
 the frames of some of the olden knights, 
 who in days gone by had stood at its gates 
 and battled for its safety, to be a sure 
 guard and a strong resting-place, but not 
 to be admired either for its beauty or its 
 grace. 
 
 Nature, however, had given it what 
 man's hand had fors-otten, touchino^ it Avith 
 lichens of softest grey and gold where 
 the land Avind from the great barren moors 
 to the north blew upon it, making, it green 
 with ivy and vine where the summer sun
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COIMPAXIOX. 3 
 
 kissed it at noon-time. Out of tlie cre- 
 vices of its rougli stone walls grew tiny 
 ferns, as dainty and delicate as tliougli a 
 lady's hand had planted and a lady's love 
 had tended them. Where they could not 
 find room, the greener mosses grew, bloom- 
 ing out into myriad little crimson cups, 
 which, catching the sunlight, held it there 
 for the cheering of the else so desolate 
 place. For it seemed as though these 
 things loved it the more, the more it was 
 forsaken of man's loving kindness. 
 
 Around it stood its guardian elm-trees, 
 ready for shadow or shelter, as sun or 
 storm might come. In ^^dnter the low 
 red morning sunlight struck through their 
 leafless branches, and glowed upon the 
 deep-set windows of the east front, and 
 turned to diamond and rubv the hoar 
 frost upon the mosses. Later on one saw 
 the rooks stirring busily amongst those 
 
 B 2
 
 4 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 same leafless branches, their every croak 
 heard in the dead stillness which seemed 
 to belong to the place. And so still it 
 was, so little vexed by human interrup- 
 tion, that the rabbits nibbled the grass 
 under the terrace windows, and birds 
 built their nests in the balustrades of that 
 terrace, and wood-pigeons, those flyers 
 from the haunts of men, came night by 
 night to tell their story in the yew-trees 
 by the terrace steps, well knowing that 
 none would disturb them there. For in- 
 deed, their love-talk was the only talk of 
 that kind which the yew-trees ever heard 
 noAv. 
 
 Lady Lowater and her companion Miss 
 Pentwistle lived at Lowater Court, and 
 they lived as dull a life there as their 
 worst enemy need have Avished. Li the 
 morning Miss Pentwistle gave her lady- 
 ship's orders to the housekeeper, and
 
 LADY LOWATER S COMPA^^IOX. O 
 
 looked at tlie accounts, and dusted the 
 rare old china in the faded dra^^dng-^ooln, 
 and made \dsits, accompanied by tracts, to 
 the poor people of the neighbourhood. 
 After luncheon she and Lady Lowater 
 slept, at least Miss Pentmstle slept, and 
 my lady seemed to do so. When the nap 
 was over, both ladies took a stroll in the 
 grounds, came in for afternoon tea, dressed 
 for dinner, partook of that meal solemnly 
 in presence of the old family butler, and 
 the equally old fomily footman, returned 
 to the dra^dng-room, respectively took and 
 appeared to take another nap, roused up 
 for coffee, trifled with some fancy work, 
 had prayers, all the servants sitting in a 
 row at the end of the room, and then went 
 to bed. AVith this scheme of living Miss 
 Pentmstle was quite content. If my lady 
 was not, she never said anything about 
 being other Avise.
 
 iy LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 In former years this routine had been 
 broken in npon from time to time by a 
 raid from Lady Lowater's only child, Sir 
 Merrion, then knocking abont the countr}^ 
 Avith his regiment, the — th. When he 
 came of a^e and mio;ht have settled down 
 on the propert}', he still preferred remain- 
 ing in the arni}^, finding life at Lowater 
 Court a somcAvhat tedious affair, and not 
 meeting in any of the dull little country 
 towns where the — th was quartered, any 
 young lady who moved him to thoughts 
 of matrimony. So long as the Lowater 
 game was well preserved, and so long as 
 his regiment was in a good hunting district, 
 and so Ions: as he could o;et his fill of 
 athletic sports in the barrack-grounds, 
 Merrion Lowater was as really content 
 with his roving life as his mother onl}' 
 appeared to be with her stagnant one. 
 
 But now he was with his regiment on
 
 LADY LOAVATER S COMPANION. 7 
 
 foreign service and had been so for a 
 couple of years, during which time no 
 festivities worthy of the name had taken 
 place at Lowater Court. Of course there 
 were in the neighbourhood people of the 
 upi)er-middle class who had to be called 
 upon from time to time, and entertained 
 once a year or so at a garden-party ; and 
 there Avere also people of more exalted 
 station, belonging in a not remote degree 
 to dukes and earls, and the carriages of 
 these people cut up the terrace gravel now 
 and then when a state dinner-party Avas 
 given at LoAA^ater Court, or the duty call 
 consequent upon such dinner-party had to 
 be made. 
 
 For, spite of her recluse habits, my 
 lady AA'as a lady of rank, and Avhoever 
 married that only son of hers Avould be a 
 lady of rank too, AA^th a good position in 
 the county and a tidy income. Indeed,
 
 8 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 the income would be all the better for the 
 strict economy which was practised upon 
 the estate during the young baronet's 
 absence. And then, if report said true, 
 he was not a man who made away with 
 his patrimony by any illegitimate means. 
 Hunting, shooting, cricketing, all sorts of 
 athletic sports were his delight. He was 
 a good officer, a brave soldier, an honest 
 English gentleman ; just the sort a vigilant 
 mother might wish her daughter to settle 
 down with, even though his abilities were 
 not of the kind which would ever leave a 
 mark upon his country's history. There- 
 fore the county j)eople kept on being 
 polite to my Lady Lowater, feeble as was 
 the encouragement which she gave to their 
 attention. 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle, the world is hollow as 
 a drum.' 
 
 That was what her ladyship said one
 
 LADY LOWATER S COMPANIOX. V 
 
 evening after the Lady Belleray and ^Ir. 
 and Ladv Maud Dollino-broke had been 
 dinino' at the Court. Ladv Bellerav had 
 three grown-up daughters, and Mr. Dol- 
 lingbroke, of Lupus Court, five miles awa}', 
 even more. And Lady Belleray had heard 
 that the — th was under orders for home. 
 Or was it only that Sir Merrion was think- 
 in or of takino' furlouo^h ? 
 
 ' Miss Pent^\dstle, the world is as hollow 
 as a drum.' 
 
 ' The world is as Providence made it, 
 Lady LoAvater. AVe must not complain.' 
 
 My lady laughed a little, hitter laugh, 
 just enough to set the diamonds in her 
 ]iecklace alight. 
 
 ' It is nothing of the sort, Miss Pent- 
 Avistle. It is what mcked people have 
 made it. Don't tell me that Providence 
 has anj^thing to do with the sin and 
 misery, the picking and stealing, and
 
 10 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 liao-alino' and contrivino' that are sroiiis: 
 on all around us. One had better not 
 have a Providence, then, if that is all it 
 can do for us.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, I beg your pardon,' replied 
 Miss Pentwistle, anxious to keep in both 
 with Providence and Lady Lowater. ' I did 
 not understand you to refer to sin and 
 miser}' or anything of that sort. I thought 
 you were only referring to society at large.' 
 
 ' And pray what is society at large but 
 sin and misery ?' said my lady, with another 
 flicker of the diamonds. 
 
 ' My dear Lady Lowater, try to cultivate 
 a more resigned spirit. Li this state of 
 probation we must have our trials.' 
 
 ' I don't know anything about probation. 
 Miss Pentwistle. I only know that society 
 is hollow, and we are hollow along with it, 
 you and I and all of us, as hollow as ever 
 we can be. If we do speak the truth some-
 
 LADY LOWATER S C0:MPAXI0N. 11 
 
 times, it is by accident, and as often as not 
 we have to suifer for speaking it.' 
 
 Miss PentAvistle did not rebel. My lady 
 was evidently getting ready for a bilious 
 attack, and at such times society did natu- 
 rally appear hollow. She had known 
 clergymen, under similar circumstances, 
 reflect in the pulpit, with a sort of sub- 
 dued satisfoction, upon the very small pro- 
 portion of hiunan beings who coidd be ex- 
 pected to escape eternal perdition ; though, 
 Avhen the attack had worked off, these same 
 clero'Mnen were aniono;st the most benevo- 
 lent of men. One had to make allowances 
 for physical conditions. ^Yas the dande- 
 lion coffee running short ? AVas there a 
 good supply of taraxacum pills in the 
 medicine chest ? Had the cook been send- 
 ing up dishes less carefully prepared than 
 usual ? These questions, rather than others 
 of a more stricth' ethical nature, were to
 
 12 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 be taken into consideration when people 
 began to talk too gloomily about sin and 
 misery and that sort of thing. At the 
 same time, one must admit the existence 
 of evil, and be in a sort of cheerful, exter- 
 nal way sorry for it. All religious people 
 had to be that. 
 
 Lady Lowater looked round for the white 
 cJmddah which usually lay over the back 
 of her chair. Miss Pentwistle was up in a 
 moment, folded it comfortably round her, 
 so that the diamonds could not assert their 
 sympathy with liiy lady's opinions. 
 
 ' I don't wonder you shiver. It is really 
 very chilly to-night.' 
 
 ' Chilly ? It is enough to freeze the 
 crickets on the hearth. And Lady Maud 
 and the girls not half through that live 
 miles' ]"ide ! Poor things ! If she did but 
 know that Merrion does not mean to marry 
 for this ten years ! But, you see, as I said
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPAXIOX. 13 
 
 before, one does not speak the trntli, or 
 only by accident.' 
 
 ' But lie does talk about coming home 
 on furlough, Lady Lowater.' 
 
 ' That is quite a different thing from 
 marrying. I think I will not stay up for 
 prayers to-night. Miss Pentwistle.' 
 
 ' Certainly. It is, as you say, very cold.' 
 
 Lady Lowater shivered again. She was 
 a tall, thin, haggard woman, a convenient 
 object for the frost to penetrate. 
 
 ^ I should think the very polecats in the 
 plantation must feel it. And perhaps I 
 shall not come down for prayers to-morrow 
 morning either, Miss Pentwistle. Somehow 
 I am not in tune for the General Thanks- 
 o:ivin2:.' 
 
 Truly one might have desired a better 
 illustration of gratitude than the mistress 
 of Lowater Court, as she stood there, cold, 
 hard, bitter, but so handsome still in her
 
 14 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 middle-aged stateliness, gathering up her 
 bits of fripperies, laced handkerchief, smell- 
 ing-bottle, feather-screen, before going to 
 her own room at the far end of the long- 
 corridor, where the frost, spite of l)lazing 
 fire and furred dressing-gown, would bite 
 her just as keenly, no warmth being in the 
 withered heart to keep it out. But Miss 
 Pentwistle only replied, briskly and cheer- 
 fully as ever, 
 
 ' You are quite right. Lady Lowater. If 
 I were you I should remain in bed for 
 breakfast, until the weather takes a turn. 
 These downstairs rooms are very chilly in 
 the early morning.' 
 
 'They are always chilly to me, Miss 
 Pentwistle,' said my lady, mth a frosty 
 sigh. ' Good-night.'
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 There was no village, strictly speaking, of 
 Lowater, only a cluster or two of cottages, 
 occupied for tlie most part by labourers 
 employed upon the estate. There had 
 once been a village, and a good sized one 
 too, but it had gradually shpped down to 
 the coast a couple of miles away, Avhere 
 the little river Scar, if river it could be 
 called which was scarcely more than a 
 brook at its widest part, ran out into the 
 sea. Here for many a year there had 
 been a colony of fishermen, who had sup- 
 ported themselves and their families by
 
 1() LADY LO WATERS COMPANION. 
 
 selling herrings and crabs in Byborough, 
 the nearest large town to Lowater, content 
 if they conlcl scrape together an honest 
 living and clothe themselves decently 
 enough to present a respectable appear- 
 ance in Lowater Church, towards which 
 Sunday by Sunday, along the narrow 
 high-banked lanes, thick fringed mth fern 
 and ivy, one might see them labouring 
 Avith the uneasy gait of men to whom land 
 of any kind is only a temporary accommo- 
 dation. 
 
 But a traveller chanced to find out the 
 quiet little cove, and told others of its 
 beauty, and how the north wind was tem- 
 pered there, and how in early spring, when 
 the high lands were nipped and frozen, 
 there was comfort to be found under the 
 red cliffs at Scarmouth. And after that 
 stray invahds found their way to the fisher- 
 men's cottages, and the good report of the
 
 c 
 
 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 17 
 
 place spread, and enterprising contractors 
 ran up lodging houses, and retired people 
 from Byborough built ^dllas there ; and 
 the end of it was that, just fifty years from 
 the time when the traveller found out the 
 place, Scarmouth was a regular sea-side 
 resort, much to the detriment of Lowater, 
 to whose gaunt stone-built cottages, moss- 
 crusted ^dth damp and worn \A\\i the bit- 
 ing of the north wind, none of the neigh- 
 bouring townspeople now cared to 
 come. 
 
 Scarmouth did not belong to the Low- 
 ater estate, but to the Countess Much- 
 march, who held it in her own right, and 
 who lived at a j^i'etty place called the 
 Cliffs, bordering on Lady Lowater's prop- 
 erty. The countess was a wise woman, or 
 at any rate her agent was wise for her ; 
 and, when she saw that her little fishing 
 village was getting up in the world, she 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 laid out a promenade on the beach, and 
 built a bijou hotel and a bijou church, and 
 a row of pretty lodging houses facing the 
 sea, and in various other ways popularised 
 the place, with this good result to herself, 
 that her rent-roll was doubling itself every 
 ten years, whilst Lady Lowater's was mov- 
 ing in quite an opposite direction ; so 
 opposite indeed that the shooting had to 
 be let now, a thing which had not been 
 done on the Lowater moors since guns 
 were invented. But as Mr. Antony, the 
 Lowater man of business, said, her lady- 
 ship's income must be kept up somehow. 
 And during the young baronet's absence, 
 her ladyship, though the most indepen- 
 dent of women, had to give up everything 
 to Mr. Antony. 
 
 But though, for all practical and profit- 
 able purposes, the village of Lowater had 
 betaken itself to the seaside, and was there
 
 LADY LOWATEk's COMPAXIOX. 19 
 
 carrying on lousiness under the name of 
 Scarnioutli. the ancient cluster of cottages 
 still held together on the high land, and 
 the httle old church, the mother-church of 
 the parish, stood in their midst as afore- 
 time, grey, weather-beaten, keeping guard 
 over the mouldering dust of the Lowaters 
 ■\\ithin its chancel, and the lonely graves 
 of those who had served the great people, 
 ^s in olden times great people were served, 
 silently, faithfully, and now lay under their 
 headstones, meek, uncomplaining in death 
 as they had been in life. 
 
 Those who had done the service lay out 
 in the cold. Those who had taken it slept 
 amongst painted windows and sculptured 
 marble, their good deeds all well set forth 
 over them, to be praised in this world if 
 not otherwhere. 
 
 For indeed it seemed as if that little 
 church on the hill-top had been dedicated 
 
 c2
 
 20 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 less to the worship of God than to the 
 honour and glory of the Lowaters, with 
 such multiphcation of sentences in Latin 
 and Enghsh, beneath stained glass and on 
 monumental brass, and round marble 
 ef^gj, was their memorial set forth. Lady 
 Lowater, going to church on Sunday 
 mornings, might well be proud of the noble 
 family into which she had married. The 
 Court pew itself was a chantry built 
 for the repose of .the soul of a long ago 
 dead Lowater knight. It was on the north 
 side of the chancel, well away from the 
 humbler worshippers. On one side an 
 open archway gave its occupants a sight of 
 the choir and altar. From the second they 
 could, if they liked, look down the north 
 aisle of the church, where in high oaken 
 pews the Court servants, men and maidens, 
 were ranged. Old Sir Guy, the late 
 baronet, had always sat where he could
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANIOX. 21 
 
 liave a full prospect of that aisle, in order, 
 some people said, that he might keep the 
 serving-men in better order, they being 
 given to slumber, except for fear of awful 
 glances from beneath their master's shaggy 
 eyebrows. Others said, though they only 
 said it amongst themselves, that the wood- 
 man's daughter Libbie was the prettiest 
 2:irl in the villao'e, and Libbie had o-one to 
 be kitchenmaid at the Court, and Sir Guy 
 knew a pretty face when he saw it as well 
 as anvone, even thouoii it mio-ht be a 
 different style of beauty from my lady's. 
 
 My lady used to sit there too, by his 
 side. But, when he removed to the rest 
 of the Lowaters under the chancel stones, 
 she too removed, and sat, with her back to 
 the people, in a niche quite up in the cor- 
 ner of the pew, where she could see no- 
 body but one or two of the choristers. 
 Over the niche was a fio-ure of St. Peter
 
 22 LADY LOAVATER's COMPANION. 
 
 mtli liis keys, looking fierce and inexor- 
 able as though he had just locked some 
 evil-doer out of the kingdom of heaven. 
 My lady liked that seat because no one 
 could see how much or hoAv little she was 
 attending to the service. By turning her 
 head a mere inch or two on one side, so 
 that it rested comfortably against the pillar 
 which supported the niche canopy, she 
 completely lost sight of the pulpit, and the 
 pulpit's occupant as completely lost sight 
 of her. Only Ben Dyson her woodman, 
 and the best bass in the choir, commanded 
 a prospect of her from his seat by the little 
 vestry door, and Ben generally slept dur- 
 ing the sermon, so that his observation, 
 she thought, did not count for much. 
 
 So she would sit with closed eyes, not at 
 all slumbering eyes, though, sometimes 
 listening to the Reverend Stephen Rock's 
 ,sermon, sometimes not listening to it. Or,
 
 LADY LOWATEr\s COMPAXIOX. 23 
 
 rousino; herself from some lono; train of 
 thought, she woukl watch the rich mantles 
 of purple and crimson which the sun, slow- 
 ly mounting to its meridian, flung through 
 the stained windows upon the stony 
 Lowater knights in the chancel, from Sir 
 Peveril of the third Edward's time, a 
 headless trunk now kneeling at his inelFec- 
 tual prayers under an emblazoned canopy, 
 onward past many a dame and damsel, to 
 the latest baronet, whose deathbed she, his 
 wife, had watched, and whose effigy in 
 marble reposed under the south ^^dndow 
 of the chancel, a brass just beneath it set- 
 ting forth his styles and titles, and how 
 well he had fulfilled his duties as magis- 
 trate, high sheriff, and lieutenant of his 
 native county. But not setting forth 
 at all, which indeed was prudent, how 
 he had fulfilled his duties as a husband. 
 Xext to Sir Guy's effigy was another
 
 24 LADY LO WATER S COMPANION. 
 
 window, a small double lancet, mtli a 
 carved stone mullion between the lights. 
 One of tliese lancets was filled in with 
 diaper work of rich stained glass, brought 
 by some Lowater connoisseur from Munich. 
 The other light was of thirteenth century 
 English work, and represented the angel 
 with drawn sword guarding the gate of 
 Eden. This figure chanced to be so placed 
 that at noon-time, when Mr. Rock was 
 dramng to the close of his always short 
 homilies, the sunhght flashing through its 
 eyes smote upon Lady Lowater's face as 
 she sat under St. Peter's niche in the chan- 
 try pew, herself moveless and stony as any 
 statue. And at the same time the light 
 from the drawn sword which the angel 
 held, streamed across upon St. Peter with 
 his keys, bringing out into stronger relief 
 the expression of stern rebuke and autho- 
 rity upon his face. Indeed, as Miss Pent-
 
 ^\dstle said, lie seemed to be perpetually 
 passing judgment upon whoever sat be- 
 neath bim, and turning tliem out of lieaven 
 with bis frown, just as tbe angel was 
 warning tbem from Eden witb its sword. 
 And sbe wondered Lady Lowater did not 
 change her seat, especially as the sun must 
 be so very dazzbng when it glanced directly 
 upon her face. But my lady would not 
 move so much as an inch. 
 
 ' One does not get too much sunlight in 
 this world,' she said, carelessly, and that 
 was all she said to Miss Pentmstle. 
 
 But to herself she said diiferently. 
 
 ' Keeping the gate of the garden of 
 Eden,' was her thought, as the day-beam, 
 flashino; throuo'h the anQ-el's eves, smote 
 upon her worn flice. ' Let him smite me 
 so. I have done evil. There is no garden 
 of Eden for me henceforth.'
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Since the building of Lady Muclimarcli's 
 prett\' little ecclesiastical edifice at Scar- 
 iiioutli, and the establishment of an equally 
 pretty Httle incumbent there, the few 
 people Avho gathered in the old parish 
 church at Lowater Avere scarcely worth the 
 name of a congregation. That might be 
 the fault of the clergyman, who had not 
 what is called popular pulpit talent. And 
 again that deficiency might be the fault of 
 the stipend, for what pulpit talent of an}' 
 kind, to say nothing of the fashionable 
 popular kind, could be expected for ninety-
 
 LADY lowatek's co:mpaxiox, 27 
 
 seven pounds ten a }'ear, with a cottage to 
 live in ? And that was the Hniit fixed by the 
 Ecclesiastical Connnissioners to the income 
 of Mr. Rock, perpetual curate of St. An- 
 drew's Church, Lowater, and a man already 
 well on to fifty years of age. 
 
 A quiet, inoffensive n:ian, as, indeed, any 
 man of fifty with ninety-seven pounds ten 
 a year had good cause to be. Miss Pent- 
 ^^^[stle herself, though not so old ^^ithin a 
 year or two, and not a scholar of Clare 
 either, was making a better living for her- 
 self ; for besides the round hundred which 
 she received annually for spending her life 
 at Lowater Court, she had board and 
 lodging, and freedom to do prett}' much 
 as she pleased, Lady Lowater being a per- 
 son who never interfered with anyone so 
 long as she herself was let alone. A man, 
 too, who would never get on in the Church, 
 come what might, for he had no ' views ' —
 
 28 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 none, at least, that you could take hold of 
 as locating him definitely in the basement, 
 or middle floors, or attic of the Establish- 
 ment. As Miss Pentwistle, who had a fine 
 scent for doctrine, observed, to hear a bit 
 of one sermon you might think him an 
 Evangelical pure and simple ; to hear an- 
 other bit, you might swear, if such a thing 
 were proper, that he belonged to the most 
 advanced corps of the Ritualists ; and to 
 hear the mnding up of a third, you would 
 be justified in describing him as a mis- 
 chievous latitudinarian. 
 
 What could such a man expect then, 
 other than empty pews and a perpetual 
 curacy at ninety-seven pounds a year? 
 Ko bishop would have anything to do with 
 him. No patron would ever care to put 
 him into a vicaraofe. Miss Pentwistle her- 
 self would have gone to Scarmouth church 
 long ago, where the service, though a trifle
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 29 
 
 high, was more lively, had it not been that 
 at St. Asaph's under Mr. Moberly she must 
 have taken a hard, high-backed chair any- 
 w^here amongst lodging-house keepers and 
 fishermen, and in her own parish church 
 she was free of the Lowater pew with its 
 amplitude of space, and its wealth of 
 mustv velvet cushions, and its conveni- 
 ences for repose when the sermon was too 
 uninteresting, to say nothing of a certain 
 social dignity which one could not 
 help feehng when in the occupation of 
 it. That was really, and she confessed 
 it, the chief reason which kept her at St. 
 Andrew's. 
 
 And therefore when the lady gossips of 
 Scarmouth ventured upon a few little hints 
 as to the advisability of a coalition be- 
 tween the curate and the companion. Miss 
 Pentwistle only gave a shrug of disdain, as 
 different as possible from the becoming
 
 30 LADY LOWATEr's COIMPANION. 
 
 consciousness which overspread her coun- 
 tenance when the possibility of anything 
 of the kind with regard to Mr. Antony 
 was suggested. In fact Mr. Antony, when 
 he was a very poor man, had dared to 
 cherish hopes in the direction of Lady 
 Lowater's companion, then a fair-haired, 
 self-possessed person of four-and-twenty ; 
 but the hopes had not found sufficient 
 encouragement to warrant any steps on 
 his part towards turning them into 
 realities. Now, had he cherished them. 
 Miss Pentwistle would not have discourag- 
 ed them so much. The question was, did 
 he cherish them ? 
 
 Not that Miss Pentwistle troubled her- 
 self about the matter. She was far too 
 matter-of-fact for that. With a comfort- 
 able home and a clear income of a hun- 
 dred a year, out of which. Lady Lowater 
 being generous in the matter of presents,
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANIOX. 31 
 
 slie had, since her residence at the Court, 
 saved a thousand pounds, she did not feel 
 that, taking into account her own httle 
 independency of about iive-and-twenty 
 pounds a year, she need bring herself into 
 bondage to any man. If anything did 
 happen to Lady Lowater, she had good 
 reason to think that her name would not 
 be omitted in the will amongst other hand- 
 some annuities. Or if Sir Merrion mar- 
 ried and his mother had to live in the 
 dower-house on tlie confines of the estate, 
 now occupied by Mrs. Tallington, the 
 doAvager Lady LoAvater would still require 
 a companion, so that her position, if not 
 quite so exalted, would be comfortable 
 enough. About marriage, therefore, unless 
 it brought her much gain, she need not 
 trouble herself. 
 
 At the same time she had now and then 
 occupied such imagination as was ])ossible
 
 32 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 to lier, in building castles in the air wliich 
 took tlie shape of Mr. Antony's elegant 
 villa on the Byborough Road, with herself 
 as its mistress, Mr. Antony being a neces- 
 sary adjunct to the possession of the 
 property. And it was the pleasantness of 
 such a prospect, joined mth the value of 
 the settlements which would of course be 
 be made upon her in the event of such a 
 union, which caused almost a blush to 
 overspread Miss Pentmstle's cheek, when 
 Mrs. Petipase, the doctor's mfe of Scar- 
 mouth, ventured upon her little pleasan- 
 tries in a matrimonial direction. But 
 Avhen they had reference to the Reverend 
 Stephen Rock, with that starvation-point 
 income of his — pshaw ! 
 
 Lady Lowater, too, cared but little foi* 
 the perpetual curate. But that little was 
 not because she despised him, as Miss 
 Pentwistle did. On the contrary, she was
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 33 
 
 a clever enougli woman to know that, if 
 he chose to put out his strength, he could 
 master them both. About his views on 
 church matters, or whether he had any 
 at all, she in no ^^ise troubled herself. 
 But she was obliged to trouble herself 
 sometimes about the discernment with 
 which he could penetrate the crust of 
 appearances, both social and religious. 
 She kept up none of the latter, except 
 so far as custom had made them neces- 
 sary for a lady in her position, and there- 
 fore she could listen ^yith more than 
 comfort, with interest and amusement, 
 whilst Miss Pentwistle's little theological 
 outAvorks were one by one swept away, 
 and the very citadel of her spiritual pride 
 and prejudice was made to tremble before 
 the battering-ram of his common-sense. 
 She would have done as much herself, if 
 it had only been worth the trouble. Miss 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 L.VDY lowater's companion. 
 
 Pentmstle's religion Avas an entirely nie- 
 chanical one. Take out a peg or tAvo 
 here and there, and the whole thing came 
 to pieces, mth the result that in half-an- 
 hour it was built up again in exactly 
 the same form, and as entirely as ever 
 to its owner's satisfaction. Indeed, that 
 Avas Avhy she ncA^er cared to meddle A\dth 
 it. If it had been a liAdng plant, Avhich 
 one could haA^e cut doAvn to its roots, and 
 salted AAdth salt, there Avould have been 
 more satisfaction in the destroying process. 
 But Mr. Rock could look through other 
 things than religious appearances. She 
 felt, Avith a consciousness often more viA^id 
 than comfortino' that he could look 
 through the folds of social courtesy to 
 the rottenness, nay, foulness, AA^hich the}^ 
 covered. Could he also look through to 
 the pain, to the yearning, to the repent- 
 ance ? His eyes, as he stood in the old, 
 
 „s^
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 35 
 
 black-oak pulpit of Lowater Churcli, darting 
 with quiet scorn his arrows against the 
 hypocrisies of modern life, lowly and lofty, 
 had often appeared to her as searching 
 as those of the angel with the drawn 
 sword who kept the gate of the Garden 
 of Eden. Xay more, for fling your own 
 weak imaginations away, and it was only 
 a passing gleam of sunlight which smote 
 upon her from the robed figure always 
 standing between herself and her hus- 
 band's grave, whereas it was a living 
 soul looking into hers when Mr. Rock 
 talked on in that fearless way. Popular 
 pulpit talent ! Would he had had it, and 
 plenty of it too ; for one could hsten to 
 that comfortably enough. It was the un- 
 popular talent, the talent which could rive 
 off all cloaks and wrappings of couA'cni- 
 ence, and show the sinful human heart 
 for what it really Avas, that Mr. Rock 
 
 d2
 
 36 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 possessed, and that kept him there, to 
 bring her sins to her remembrance, whe- 
 ther or not he knew them for what they 
 were. 
 
 So from time to time she would go to 
 St. Asaph's, where the ministrations were 
 not of such a searching kind. Mr. Mo- 
 berly did the service SAveetly, in a voice 
 which was the envy of the clergymen 
 far and near ; and then he read a neat 
 little religious essay, and the congregation 
 dispersed, pleased both with its incumbent 
 and itself. And always, within a day or 
 two of her attendance at the fashionable 
 new church, Mr. Moberly himself would 
 call upon her, such an attention being 
 the least he could show to a lady of rank 
 who had left her own parish for the sake 
 of listening to his superior eloquence. 
 And he would chat pleasantly about the 
 latest new book, or the new rules for
 
 LADY lowater's companiox. 37 
 
 croquet, or tlie amateur theatricals which 
 were being got up to provide new vest- 
 ments for the choristers ; and my lady 
 never felt that he was observing her too 
 •closely, that her customary wrappings of 
 good-breeding and courtesy had any thin 
 place through which he could look to the 
 misery underneath. 
 
 That was the best way. And Mr. Rock 
 never seemed vexed, either, never by hint 
 or question or remark of any kind let her 
 see that her absence was noticed. What 
 he had to say was the important thing, 
 ]iot the number nor quality of the people 
 to whom he said it. And if next day, 
 driving with ^liss Pent^^dstle in the hand- 
 somely appointed old family carriage, she 
 met the curate on his round amongst the 
 labourers' cottages, his greeting was as 
 kindly and simple as though my lady liad 
 never been absent from her place. It was
 
 38 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 not such as she who had power to vex 
 him. And Lady Lowater had nobility 
 enough to be glad that it was so.
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 Miss Pextwistle often did Lady Lowater's 
 calls for lier, amongst those who did not 
 strictly belong to the connty people. To 
 the mansions of these latter her ladyship 
 always tried to go npon exceptionally fine 
 afternoons coming after long spells of 
 rain, or when a flower-show was going on 
 at Byborongh, or when the bishop's mfe 
 Avas having one of her great garden-parties. 
 There was hope then that the people would 
 be out, and to receive a ' not-at-home ' 
 from as many footmen as might be, was 
 all Ladv Lowater desired.
 
 40 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 Not SO Miss Pentwistle when the second 
 class of calls had to be made. Life at the 
 Court was comfortable enough, and for 
 herself very independent ; but there was 
 no denying its tediousness. To vary it 
 by a breeze of gossip from without was 
 sometimes necessary. And there were 
 pleasant people down at Scarmouth who 
 knew all about what was going on, what 
 engagements had been made, what others 
 broken, who was the last young lady that 
 report had set down as Mr. Moberly's 
 future mfe, the matrimonial prospects of 
 the new curate, the shortcomings of Mrs. 
 Pontifex, the extravao-ant and fascinatino' 
 little wife of the colonel of the regiment 
 then stationed at Byborough, the flirta- 
 tions that were in process at the spa pro- 
 menade concerts, the amount of debt into 
 which Lady Belleray's married daughter 
 had contrived to plunge her husband, and
 
 LADY LO water's co:MrANiox. 41 
 
 various other topics interesting to people 
 like Miss Pentwistle, scant of internal 
 resources. 
 
 Then, too, she generally picked up some- 
 thing which helped to keep conversation 
 <>:oino; durino' the lono- winter evenino-s. 
 As a rule, her ladyship did not care for 
 being read to, — at any rate not when the 
 reading was of Miss Pentwistle's faA'ourite 
 sort. And she was a most unsatisfactory 
 sleeper after dinner ; in fact ^liss Pent- 
 wistle had her doubts whether it was sleep 
 at all, or only the pretence of it, which 
 allowed the jewelled hands to tidget so, 
 and the breath to come in long-drawn 
 sighs, almost groans sometimes, during 
 that hfteen minutes before the coffee came 
 in. Indigestion, most likely, producing 
 loAvness of spirits and flightiness of tem- 
 per, too ; and in that case a little cheerful 
 conversation about other people's affairs
 
 42 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 Avas the best possible corrective. Miss 
 PentAvistle, therefore, was always provided 
 Avith something of the kind, just as, when 
 the attack became sharper still, she had 
 recourse to the supply of taraxacum in 
 her medicine-chest. 
 
 'The usual beat, I suppose,' said Lady 
 Lowater, wearily, one February afternoon, 
 when Miss Pentwistle, after forao^ino^ for 
 crossip in vScarmouth, had returned in time 
 to accompany her ladyship on her little 
 stroll through the grounds before tea. 
 ' The usual beat, I suppose, through the 
 plantations and up to the rock seat, and 
 liome by the game-coops.' 
 
 ' I don't think we can go a better way,' 
 said Miss Pentwistle. 
 
 She did not tire of routine, any more 
 than the snuff-box which does its round of 
 tunes when it is properly wound up. In-
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 43 
 
 deed, routine was her native aii\ in it she 
 breathed most freely. 
 
 My hidy gave a little sigh, but said 
 nothing. She looked very stateh' as she 
 stood there in the hall doorway, her rich 
 furs and ^^Tappings sweeping al:)out her, 
 stateh' as any of the Lowater ladies who 
 had moved amongst their old family 
 poi'traits in generations past. Only there 
 was such a hunted, restless look in her 
 eves, the look of a creature which is alwavs 
 Avatching for its life amongst enemies. 
 Miss Pentwistle set it down to ill-health, 
 as she did also the general want of cheer- 
 fulness in Lady Lowater's demeanour. It 
 might, too, result from want of religious 
 feeling. When people were able to trust 
 in Providence it made a great difference. 
 
 ' Let us start then, and the sooner we 
 get it over the better, v^tav, though, Miss
 
 44 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 
 
 Pentwistle, I must have Tiny and Trip.' 
 
 And Lady Lowater lifted from the chain 
 at her girdle a little silver pencil case, 
 which had a whistle at the end of it, and 
 "with this she Avas going to call up the dogs 
 when her companion stopped her. 
 
 'The traps, Lady Lowater.' 
 
 ' Oh ! no, there are no traps now. Jeff- 
 erson had my orders to take them all up 
 last week. I told him I would not suffer 
 them about the place, after Ave saw that 
 Avretched cat in one of them Avith its paAV 
 half eaten off.' 
 
 'Horrible!' said Miss PentAvistle. 'I 
 remember it perfectly aa'cII. But all I can 
 say is, that the traps AAxn*e there yesterday 
 Avhen I AA^ent through the north spinney 
 on my Avay to the Adllage. I think Jeffer- 
 son told me it Avas Mr. Antony Avho had 
 ordered him to put them doAvn again, as 
 the vermin interfered Avitli the a'ame.'
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 45 
 
 Lady Lo^vater said nothing, but when 
 she dropped the little pencil-case there 
 were the marks of her teeth upon it, far 
 into the silver. And ^\'itli cA'en a prouder 
 step than usual she went across the terrace 
 towards the plantation. 
 
 'Temper/ thought Miss Pent^^-istle. 
 
 Indeed, she knew ver}' well, when she 
 mentioned Mr. Antony's name in that way, 
 that it would rouse her ladyship's temper. 
 A da^' or two ago she would not so have 
 mentioned it, but that afternoon she had 
 heard something at Scarmouth which made 
 her not quite so anxious to keep Mr. 
 Antony in favour at the Court. Indeed, 
 if Miss Pent^dstle had been in a position 
 to do just as she liked, she would have 
 shown her own temper a little, as Lady 
 Lowater was sho^dng hers just now ; but 
 she was far too ^dse a woman to show 
 temper at all, unless she stood upon inde-
 
 AC) LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 2:>endent ground, and could accompany the 
 temper with something definitely authori- 
 tative in the way of disagreeableness. 
 Thank goodness, if anything vexed her she 
 could keep it to herself. At the same time, 
 if Lady Lowater did not want to talk, she 
 could l)e silent. It made no difference. 
 
 And so they walked on side by side, 
 neither speaking a Avord, past the deserted 
 looking croquet-ground and archery courts, 
 and the clumps of sentinel elm-trees just 
 beginning to thicken now, for it was a 
 warm season, where by-and-by the little 
 leaf-shoots would unfold, to the mossy 
 path which led into the nearest plantation. 
 Lady Lowater was the first to sj^eak. 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle, I was very much 
 annoyed about those traps. I am afraid I 
 was almost rude to you. I am very sorry.' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear Lady Lowater, don't men- 
 tion it. It was nothing, nothing at all, I
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANIOX. 47 
 
 assure you. I can quite understand how 
 excessively annopng it must have been to 
 you to have your orders countermanded.' 
 
 'Xot countermanded, Miss Pentmstle,' 
 said her ladyship, ^Yith a scornful flash in 
 the faded grey eyes. ' Not countermanded. 
 We have not come to that yet. Misun- 
 derstood, ^ye will say.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle knew pretty well that 
 it was a case of countermanding, and not 
 the first by any means, that had chanced. 
 But it was no use putting my lady into a 
 bad temper again, now that she had so 
 generously come to herself. At the same 
 time one might as well give Mr. Antonv, 
 under the circumstances, another ])ush 
 into the mire. 
 
 • I quite understood Jefferson to say 
 he had been ordered to put them down ; 
 but at any rate there they are, and doing 
 Mr. Antony's work too. Look.'
 
 48 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 And Miss Pent^\dstle, stopping, pointed 
 to where amongst the thick green moss, 
 in Avhich JeiFerson had set the trap, a little 
 Avhite kitten, caught by the throat in the 
 cruel steel, was bleeding helplessly to 
 death. 
 
 ' Such shocking cruelty, is it not. Lady 
 Lowater ?' she said, dramng her dress 
 aside as they both went towards the trap. 
 ' And the poor thing is not dead yet. I 
 really wonder how the keepers can be so 
 heartless, even if Mr. Antony does give 
 them orders.' 
 
 Lad}^ Lowater, mth a light in her eyes 
 that was not all of pity, pushed away the 
 moss and bent down over the blood-dab- 
 bled mass of white fur. 
 
 ' It is Margaret Dyson's poor little kit- 
 ten,' she said. 'I had rather the best 
 horse in the stables had died. I know 
 hoAV she cared for it. And all to keep the
 
 L^VDY LOWATEPv's COMPAXION. 49 
 
 weasels from a few wretched eggs. I am 
 afraid it is no use doing anything for it 
 now." 
 
 ' Oh ! do not touch it/ said Miss Pent- 
 mstle, as Lady Lowater was going to loos- 
 en the springs. ' You might hurt yourself, 
 you know. Those things are so danger- 
 ous. We shall be sure to meet Jefferson, 
 and we can send him on to look after it. 
 I cannot bear to see suffering.' 
 
 'Neither can I,' said her ladyship, quiet- 
 ly. ' Walk on to the rock-seat, and I will 
 come to you.' 
 
 Then she released the poor little crea- 
 ture, and seeing that its wound was past 
 help or heahng, she put it out of its mis- 
 ery with a sharp blow of the steel upon its 
 head. As she did so, Jefferson himself 
 came in sight. 
 
 ' Jefferson, how is this ?' she said, point- 
 ing to the little white fluffy mass, which 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 lay quietly enough noAv upon tlie dead 
 last year's leaves. 
 
 ' It was Mr. Antony's orders, my lady,' 
 he said, turning the victim carelessly over 
 Avith his boot toe. ' The pole-cats, and 
 weasels, and things is very destructive to 
 the game, and if you happen to catch any- 
 thing as isn't, Avhy, it can't be helped.' 
 
 ' It can, Jefferson, especially when you 
 have my distinct orders that these traps 
 are not to be set.' 
 
 'Very sorry, my lady. I'm sure it 
 wasn't no disobedience of mine. Least- 
 ways, Mr. Antony told me I'd got it to do, 
 and when I said I'd your orders against it 
 he told me there couldn't be two masters 
 where the game was concerned.' 
 
 ' There are not to be two masters any- 
 where here, Jefferson, in future. Will you 
 remember that ?' 
 
 ' I will, my lady. I'm sure I didn't 
 
 J
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 51 
 
 mean no offence. I thought, by the way- 
 Mr. Antony told me, it was your ladyship's 
 ^vishes he was a-carrying out, and I'm not 
 one as o^oes aofainst them that's set over 
 me. It haven't had a deal to put up with 
 anyways, for it isn't a matter of three- 
 quarters of an hour since I was past Ben 
 Dyson's and seed his daughter a-playing 
 ^\ith. it, and it's as dead as a stone 
 now.' 
 
 ' Yes, iDecause I took it out myself and 
 killed it.' 
 
 The man looked at her admiringly. 
 
 ' You've a good nerve, my lady. There 
 isn't a-many Avould have done it ; and 
 there's some says it's better to leave 'em, 
 'cause of being a warning to the rest of 
 the vermin. It Avas only last week Mr. 
 Antony and me come along here, and one 
 of Bulstrode's terrier pups was caught in 
 it, and might have been there while it was 
 
 e2 
 
 UBRARY 
 
 UNlVEKSiTf OF IIUNOIS
 
 52 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 starved to death, being as it wasn't a mor- 
 tal hurt. Mr. Antony he loosed it for 
 Bulstrode to do the best he could with it, 
 but he said, if it had been a vermin, he 
 would have let it be, for them creatures 
 takes a deal of notice, and when they see 
 a thing caught they know as well as a 
 Christian their own turn may come next.' 
 
 ' You mean you actually leave them to 
 die in the traps.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lady, or for the other creatures 
 to pick 'em to pieces. That's how it is 
 mostways. There's a deal o' cruelty goes 
 on, my lady, where the game has to be 
 preserved strict, but a man like me can 
 onl}' do what he's told.' 
 
 'Exactly. Then A\dll you do as I tell 
 you, JeiFerson, and see to it that not one 
 of these traps is put down again ? And 
 this time my orders are not to be counter- 
 manded.'
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPAXIOX. 
 
 ' They shan't, my hicly, any more, kt 
 Mr. Antony say as much as he likes. 
 There is a sort that catches 'em alive, and 
 vou can finish 'em merciful ; and there's 
 another sort that's bound to kill 'em in a 
 
 jiffey.' 
 
 ' Get that sort, then,' said Lady Lowater, 
 sharply. ' Let the creatures be put out of 
 their misery at once.' 
 
 'Yes, my lady. And maybe Ld best 
 bury this here,' said Jefferson, giving the 
 little bit of white flufl:' another toss mth 
 his foot. 
 
 • Xo, you may leave it. I shall take it 
 myself to Margaret Dyson, and tell her 
 how sorry I am for what has happened. 
 Go now.' 
 
 And as the man shouldered his gun and 
 went away, Lady Lowater murmured to 
 herself, 
 
 ' He said he had seen them caught in a
 
 54 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 trap and die as slow as slow could be, un- 
 less somebody found tliem and killed tbem, 
 God ! if only some one would find me 
 and do as mercifully !'
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The rock-seat, to wliich Miss Pent^^dstle 
 had been bidden to betake herself when 
 the sight of the poor little wounded kitten 
 proved too much for her sensibilities, was 
 situated in an open space at the top of a 
 knoll just on the borders of the Lowater 
 property. Lad}' Lowater had had the , 
 ground cleared and a seat made amongst 
 some fragments of rock, because from that 
 point, and from that point only, she could 
 get in winter-time a glimpse of the sea. 
 At all other seasons of the year Lady 
 Belleray's chestnut-trees, forming the
 
 56 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 boundary of that part of her estate, made 
 a leafy screen just thick enough to keep 
 out the little bit of distant prospect. But, 
 as late autumn stripped them, there gleam- 
 ed through the gold of their decay a widen- 
 ing ^streak of azure, and, when the croAMi 
 had been quite dashed away from their 
 heads, one could look over and beyond 
 them to a great stretch of blue, A\dth here 
 and there a white-sailed vessel upon its 
 calm. 
 
 And there, when the north-wind blcAv 
 so strongly that she could scarcely hold 
 her footing. Lady Lowater would stand 
 gazing upon that bit of distance, Avidening 
 day by day as the chestnuts lost their 
 glory; heaven looking-in through earth's 
 decay, Mr. Rock had once said, but my 
 lady knew nothing about that sort of 
 thing. She only knew that, girt in as she 
 was there by bands which her oavu long-
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 57 
 
 ago past folly had made, it was a relief to 
 have one opening through which she could 
 look out into infinite distance — distance of 
 air and ocean and sunset glow — distance 
 which gave her a passing sense of freedom, 
 though its reality could never more be 
 given. 
 
 And, though my lady would never ask 
 a favour of anyone, she had sometimes 
 given her neighbour to understand that it 
 Avould be an improvement to the Lowater 
 property if just one of those chestnut- 
 trees could be cut down, so that not only 
 in dreary winter time, but all through the 
 long sunshiny summer days, that 1)it of 
 blue sea might send its peaceful message 
 over to the rock-seat. But Lad}' Belleray 
 did not understand. At least she did not 
 act. And Lady Lowater had long since 
 given up saying anything about it. 
 
 Thither Miss PentA\dstlc Avent, not sorry
 
 58 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 to be alone for a little while. She, too, 
 had her reasons for discontent that after- 
 noon. In the course of her round of calls 
 upon the gossips of Scarmouth, she had 
 heard, and from no meaner an authority 
 than Mrs. Petipase, that Mr. Antony was 
 about to be married to a lady living at 
 Hurchester, up in the north, and that the 
 wedding was to take place within a 
 month. 
 
 Of course Mr. Antony was at liberty to 
 do as he liked, and it was her own fault. 
 Miss Pentwistle was bound to remember 
 that, that he was in circumstances to 
 ask any lady at all to be his wife. If she 
 had not been quite so anxious, some fifteen 
 years ago, for what is called a good estab- 
 lishment, if she had been mlling to take 
 him as he was then, trusting to his own 
 native sharpness and prudence for advance- 
 ment in his profession, she might now
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 5^ 
 
 have been mistress in that ten-roomed 
 vilhi on the Bj'borongli Road, with its 
 pony-carriage and its manservant and all 
 the rest of its desirabilities, Mr. Antony 
 himself included. 
 
 But there were difficulties. Even in 
 the days of her youth. Miss Pentwistle 
 looked beforehand. Mr. Antony had a 
 brother, a scapegrace brother, handsomer, 
 braver, taller, altogether a more manh- 
 looking fellow than himself — which indeed 
 might well be — but a scapegrace still, so 
 nuich a scapegrace that, instead of sharing 
 with his elder brother the profession 
 which the}' inherited from their father, he 
 had had to leave the neighbourhood in 
 disgrace, and, after prowling about in Lon- 
 don and elsewhere for a fcAv }'ears, had 
 finally betaken himself to the Continent, 
 where he might be at this present, for all 
 she knew to the contrary.
 
 60 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 Xow Miss Pentwistle Avas not minded to 
 cast in her lot mth a man who was working 
 his way up, and who had a scapegrace for 
 his younger brother. Because who coukl 
 tell hoAv much of the professional profits 
 might be di^ained away in that direction ? 
 People said that Mr. Clayton Antony had 
 paid Theodore the scapegrace to retire 
 from the practice on not very honourable 
 or remunerative terms, and that for that 
 reason he Avould constantly be liable to 
 demands upon him from a brother who, if 
 he ever reasoned at all, might soon reason 
 himself into the belief that he had been 
 unfairly dealt with. 
 
 Xot that Theodore had been dealt with 
 otherwise than he deserved. If a man will 
 not work, neither shall he eat. Miss Pent- 
 wistle could easily have convinced herself 
 from the beginning that for the younger 
 brother to proAvl in the slums of London
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 61 
 
 or elsewhere, and for tlie elder to appro- 
 priate the profits of the profession, wa& 
 only even-handed justice. But it was the 
 possibihty of the scapegrace making his 
 appearance at an}' time, with demands for 
 money or board and lodging, which gave 
 her pause when Clavton Antonv, the 
 Lowater family lawyer, asked her to be 
 his wife. And, doubting not that better 
 chances would be hers, she declined the 
 honour. 
 
 Xow well on to twenty }'ears of steady 
 work, joined with a little of what some 
 people were wont to call under their breath 
 sharp practice, had made him a man of 
 substance, and poor Theodore had never 
 turned up, either to drain the legal funds, 
 or disgi'ace the legal profession ; and Miss 
 Pentmstle, though very comfortable in 
 her position at Lowater Court, would not 
 have required a very strong pressure to
 
 62 LADY lowater's C O:\rPANI0N. 
 
 induce lier to reconsider her decision. 
 
 Bnt Mr. Antony showed no signs of 
 wishino' her to do so, thonoh their fre- 
 qnent intercourse ever since she became 
 Lady Lowater's companion had given him 
 opportunity enough for it. Xay, he had 
 now taken this way of showing her that 
 the past was quite past. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle was annoyed. Most 
 women are, when a suitor whom they 
 have dismissed comforts himself, even 
 after ever so long an interval, in matri- 
 mon3\ And that very circumscribed plot 
 of ground which she Avas wont to call 
 her emotional nature had seldom been 
 so scratched up by the rake of circum- 
 stances, not to speak of the severer process 
 of ploughing, as when she returned from 
 the house of Mrs. Petipase that afternoon, 
 in time to accompany Lady Lowater on 
 her accustomed stroll through the grounds.
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMrANIOX. 63 
 
 Lady Lowater's touch of temper pre- 
 cluded conversation at first. Then came 
 the episode of the unfortunate Kttle kit- 
 ten, and she had been sent on to the 
 rock-seat in advance. There, she had had 
 time enough to think over matters ; and 
 there she had waited and waited, until, 
 thinking that Lady Lowater must have 
 forgotten all about her, she got up and 
 walked away, intending to return to the 
 Court by the path leading past Ben 
 Dyson's cottage. 
 
 Entering that path, she saw Lady 
 Lowater coming to meet her, the little 
 dead kitten, wrapped up in moss, lying- 
 in her arms. My lady looked sad and 
 worried, but she had evidently parted 
 with her ill-temper, for she entered into 
 conversation at once. 
 
 ' I have nothing but apologies for you 
 this afternoon, Miss Pentwistle,' she said.
 
 64 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 ^ First of all, I was rude to you, and 
 tlien I quite forgot you were waiting for 
 me at tlie rock-seat. I bes^an talkino- to 
 JeiFerson about those traps. I don't think 
 he will misunderstand me any more now.' 
 
 ' I don't think he misunderstood you 
 before, Lady Lowater. It was Mr. An- 
 tony's doing, depend upon it ; and Mr. 
 Anton\' knows as well as can be that 
 you do not A\dsh to have them ^Dut down. 
 Whatever else happens, he has made up 
 his mind that the game is to be taken 
 care of on this particular corner of the 
 estate.' 
 
 ' I don't see that it makes any difference 
 to him,' said Lady Lowater, carelessly. 
 ' The shooting is let. He has nothing to 
 do with it.' 
 
 Miss Pentmstle thought she might as 
 well say it now. She had known it ever 
 since the hrst shot of the season was
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 65 
 
 fired, but there was not so much cause 
 to do Mr. Antony an ill-turn then. 
 
 ' Oh ! dear Lady Lo water, how little 
 notice you do take of things. Is it 
 possible you don't know that Mr. Antony 
 reserved a hundred acres of the shootino* 
 
 o 
 
 for your requirements, or, to sj^eak more 
 correctly, for his own? Mr. TaUington 
 has nothing to do mth the preserves on 
 this side, as Mr. Antony's gentlemen 
 friends know very well. I thought you 
 knew all about it, or I would have men- 
 tioned it to you before. Why, the fish 
 and game people at Byborough, if you 
 asked them — — ' 
 
 ' Oh ! well, never mind,' said Lady 
 Lowater, with a gesture of angry im- 
 patience. ' I don't want to hear anything 
 about it. The traps are done away with, 
 once for all ; and, as for the game, I 
 ^\dsh there was not a head of it upon 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 the estate. It is one of the things a 
 lady cannot worry about. One must let 
 men have their way. Did you hear any 
 news down at Scarmouth ? You gener- 
 ally pick up something when you go 
 there.' 
 
 ' Yes ; and I picked up something this 
 time ; two or three somethings, indeed. 
 Shall I begin with the smallest first ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; though, I daresay, it is all pretty 
 much small alike. However, one may as 
 well have the heavy artillery at the last. 
 Has Mrs. Pontifex succeeded in getting 
 the bailiffs into her husband's house yet ? 
 We Avill call that grape-shot.' 
 
 ' I don't know, I am sure,' said Miss 
 Pentwistle, with the careless ease of a 
 person who, having plenty of sixpences in 
 her purse, can afford to fling about a few 
 coppers at first. ' Mrs. Petipase did tell 
 me something about her, but I quite for-
 
 LADY LO water's COMP^VXIOX. 67 
 
 get what it was. Old Mrs. Lumleigli said 
 she had heard that the — th was ordered 
 home. You know she has a nephew in it.' 
 
 ' Yes, but the regiment is not going to 
 be ordered home on that account. Poor 
 old Mrs. Lumleiffh is always hearino; that 
 her pet is coming home. I do vd^h he 
 would sell out and marry a wife, and have 
 done T^dth it, just to give his aunt a chance 
 of being at rest. Anything else ?' 
 
 ^Yes; they say that Mr. Moberly goes 
 oftener than ever to Lady Belleray's, and 
 that black-eyed little Julia is the attrac- 
 tion.' 
 
 ^ Oh ! I daresay her ladyship vdH make 
 him very welcome to her. Evelyn, you 
 know, is intended for Sir Merrion. At 
 any rate, Lady Belleray wants him for 
 her. She never fails to ask me when he 
 
 is comin<x home to look for a "s^-ife. Li- 
 
 <_ 
 
 deed, she has gone so far as to inquire
 
 68 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 where I shall live when my boy is mar- 
 ried. I heard' she had been asking the 
 Dollingbrokes that, and so next time I 
 saw her I made a point of telling her that 
 Merrion never intends me to have any 
 other home than the Court, so long as I 
 choose to remain in it. I thought, you 
 know, that might frighten her. But no ; 
 Evelyn keeps on being as attentive as ever. 
 Miss Pent^vistle, I do believe, if Merrion 
 really did come home. Lady Belleray would 
 have those chestnuts cut down, on sj)ecu- 
 lation, you know. Nothing would help 
 on her interests in my direction more than 
 that. I think both Merrion and myself 
 would be overcome if the chestnuts came 
 down.' 
 
 ' Lady Lowater, you are so bitter.' 
 'Bitter, my dear Miss Pentmstle? I 
 am nothing of the sort. I am only amus- 
 ing myself ^\ith other people's anxiety to
 
 LADY lottatee's compaxiox. 69 
 
 get tlieir daughters settled. And why 
 they are so anxious, I don't know. It 
 seems to me that the unmarried ones get 
 the most peace and quietness. The reason 
 that I respect you, Miss Pent^\dstle, is 
 your contentment with your position. 
 You ar<? content, are vou not ?' 
 
 ' I am quite content, Lady Lo water.' 
 
 ' Yes, I knew it. Even if Mr. Rock 
 laid himself and his prospects at your 
 feet, they would not tempt you to change 
 your condition.' 
 
 ^Xot at all. I am not sure that either 
 Mr. Rock or his prospects would appear 
 to me in the light of a temptation. I 
 look upon the position of a clergpnan's 
 wife as an exceedingly satisfactory one, 
 but I draw the line at a hundred a year.' 
 
 ' Very rightly so ; and Mr. Rock is two 
 pounds ten short of it. AVell, did you 
 hear anything more ?'
 
 70 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 ' I did. I heard of an actual engage- 
 ment. Mr. Antony is to be married.' 
 
 Lady Lowater gave a slight start, and 
 set her lips together. This was heavy 
 artillery. For who knew how much a 
 husband might tell his wife, supposing he 
 married her for love ? But Lady Lowater 
 was not a woman to let anyone see that 
 she Avas taken by surprise, still less that 
 she was afraid. 
 
 ' Mr. Antony going to be married !' she 
 said, laying the moss tenderly over the 
 little dead kitten in her arms. 'What a 
 mean thing for him never to have told 
 us anything about it. And is it to be 
 soon?' 
 
 'Within a month, Mrs. Petipase said. 
 Or was it two ?' 
 
 ' Meaner still ; when he knows I should 
 want time to get a wedding-present ready 
 for him. One must needs do as much for
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 71 
 
 the man who takes such good care of one's 
 pheasants. And who is the lady ?' 
 
 ' A Mrs. Dormer, Mrs. Petipase says.' 
 
 ^ Mrs. — then, she is a widow. Or else 
 one generally expects a man of his age to 
 marry a girl. Where does she live, and 
 who may she be?' 
 
 ' Well, all Mrs. Petipase could tell me 
 was that she lives at Hurchester, and ' 
 
 ^ Hurchester ? That is where Merrion 
 used to be with his regiment.' 
 
 ' Yes, she lives at Hurchester, and she is 
 very handsome and agreeable, and she has 
 a grown-up daughter who is very practical 
 — does work in the hospitals, and that sort 
 of thing.' 
 
 ' The mother handsome and agreeable ; 
 the daughter only self-sacrificing, a hospital 
 nurse, in fact. No wonder that Mr. An- 
 tony marries the mother. And how about 
 money?'
 
 72 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 ' Narrow means, I believe, thougli she 
 has always kept up a genteel appearance. 
 So Mrs. Petipase says.' 
 
 ' All ! then it is the handsomeness that 
 has done it. I should almost have thought 
 he would have married for money.' 
 
 ' Yes, and especially if he married a 
 mdow with a grown-up daughter. But 
 then, you know, he has very good means 
 of his own. And the pheasants bring in 
 something.' 
 
 Lady Lowater laughed. It was a bitter 
 laugh this time. 
 
 ' I am not going to worry about that. 
 If a man hkes to be a sneak, he must take 
 the consequences.' 
 
 ' I wonder you let him come to the 
 house, in that case. Lady Lowater. For 
 my part, I should hate the sight of him.' 
 
 ' I have to do many things which I 
 would rather leave undone. Miss Pent-
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 73 
 
 wistle. Amongst them is the courteous 
 entertainment of the man whom Sir Guy 
 appointed his family solicitor. But here 
 we are at the cottage. I am going to take 
 poor Margaret her kitten, and tell her how 
 sorry I am about it. Do not wait for me. 
 I shall be home in time for dinner.'
 
 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle returned to tlie Court, 
 not sorry to have unlimited leisure for tlie 
 performance of her toilette arrangements. 
 It was one of tlie drawbacks of those after- 
 noon strolls Avitli Lady Lowater that they 
 left so little time for dinner preparations. 
 And Miss Pentwistle was a person who did 
 not like to be hurried. Even in her early 
 youth, precision had been one of her strong 
 points. It had grown with her growth 
 and strengthened mth her strength, until 
 now, at forty-five, hurry was a thing sim- 
 ply impossible. Besides, in her young days
 
 LADY lowater's compaxion. 75 
 
 she had never been dowered ^dth that 
 kind of beauty which only needs a dash 
 and a fling to put it at its best, and which, 
 with a flying end here and a bow there, 
 and a chance knot of ribbon somewhere 
 else, satisfies all the requirements of de- 
 coration. Unless Miss Pent'^^dstle was 
 neat, she was nothing. She depended for 
 her every-day comfort upon a degree of 
 exactitude which to most people would 
 have been intolerable. She could not 
 read morning-prayers with any amount of 
 satisfaction unless she had assured herself 
 before lea^dno: her own room that her 
 black jet brooch was equi-distant from the 
 two front points of her linen collar, and 
 that those two points formed an angle of 
 ninety degrees, resulting in the efi'ect of a 
 triangle, the apex of which was exactly 
 under her chin. And this mathematical 
 precision was carried through the whole
 
 76 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 of lier dress, so that, wlien she was attired 
 to her own satisfaction, one could demon- 
 strate her like a proposition of Euclid. 
 
 Of course, that sort of thing took time, 
 and time w^as what Lady Lowater did not 
 always give her. Indeed, as the season 
 advanced, so that there was room for a 
 stroll between afternoon tea and dinner, 
 her ladyship would go wandering about 
 until the sound of the dressing-gong sur- 
 prised them in one or other of the distant 
 plantations, and Miss Pentwistle had to 
 make a rush for it, and telegraph through 
 her toilette with unseemly haste, and sit 
 down to dinner in full view of the old 
 family butler, with painful uncertainty as 
 to the relative lengths of the three ringlets 
 which she wore behind each ear, to say 
 nothing of a positive doubt, deepening 
 into conviction as the meal went on, that 
 her lace ruffle was fastened fully half-an-
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 77 
 
 inch to one side of tlie top button of lier 
 dress, instead of exactly in front of it. 
 And how far a con^dction of that kind can 
 spoil the flavour of the most delicate entree 
 that was ever invented, or completely neu- 
 tralise the efl'ect of the choicest sweets, 
 only people like Miss Pentwistle can realise. 
 
 But this afternoon she had time enough 
 and to spare, whilst Lady Lowater was 
 making her explanations and apologies to 
 the woodman's daughter. 
 
 Ben Dyson, the woodman, lived in a 
 tidy little cottage which formed one of 
 the lodges to the Court property. His 
 mfe had died some years before, leaving 
 him alone in the world, but for one 
 daughter, who was upper-housemaid at 
 the Court, Lady Lowater preferring, as 
 far as she could, to have servants about 
 her whose parents were employed on the 
 estate. Margaret Dyson used to go home
 
 78 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 every day, to do wliat was necessary for 
 her father's comfort ; for, ever since his 
 mfe's death, he had insisted upon living 
 in the house by himself rather than having 
 anyone about him who did not belong to 
 his own kith and kin. A rough-tongued, 
 but tender-hearted old man was Ben Dy- 
 son ; true as steel to those whom he could 
 trust, hard as flint to those who had 
 wronged him; able to forgive, l)ut never 
 able to forget, an injury, and with a pride 
 sometimes truer in its honest independ- 
 ence than that which goes clothed in 
 scarlet and velvet. 
 
 But now his daughter Margaret was 
 always at home with him, though that 
 would not be for lono^. Her health had 
 failed, and, after being well cared for and 
 tended by Lady Lowater, who loved her 
 for her simple straightforwardness, she had 
 been obliged to give up her work at the
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 79 
 
 Court, and return to the woodman's cot- 
 tage, to Avait there as patiently as she 
 could for death. And why she was waiting 
 for it so patiently, and why its slow on- 
 coming brought no fear, Stephen Rock 
 knew better than most others ; for, though 
 he had not what Miss Pentwistle called 
 popular pulpit talent, he had that other, 
 and sometimes more useful talent, which 
 teaches the weary that Heaven is a land 
 not very far off, and the heavy laden that 
 rest is near. 
 
 Ben Dyson had another daughter, but 
 he had not heard from her now for many 
 a year. Not that there was anything 
 disgraceful about her, as the old man 
 would explain, with due dignity, when 
 by chance any inquiry was made con- 
 cerning her whereabouts. Indeed, rather 
 the contrary, she having in quite early 
 life married so far above her station that
 
 80 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 she had not cared since to hold any inter- 
 course with her own family. 
 
 ' Our Libbie,' as she used to be called 
 by her parents in the days when she 
 really belonged to them, was still remem- 
 bered in the village as a remarkably pretty 
 girl, round, rosy, fair, bright, mth a cer- 
 tain kind of elegance about her quite at 
 variance with her position, which was that 
 of scullery-maid at the Court. However, 
 she did not stay there very long, for the 
 Court in old Sir Guy Lo water's time was 
 not a very safe place for a young and 
 pretty girl, especially if she happened to 
 be, as Libbie certainly was, conscious of 
 her own attractions. So her father and 
 mother removed her. Lady Lowater knoAv- 
 ing quite well, though nothing was said 
 about it, what was the difficulty; and 
 Libbie went to be general servant some- 
 where at a distance from Byborough.
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 81 
 
 The next they heard of her was that 
 she had married a gentleman who lodged 
 with her employers. Married him safely, 
 legally, properly, and respectably, Mrs. 
 Porringer, Libbie's mistress, having writ- 
 ten to tell them they need have no doubts 
 on that head. Indeed, she said Libbie 
 was a very prudent girl, one who would 
 never be led astray by promises or appear- 
 ances. And though she herself had no 
 just cause to speak well of her — for her 
 conduct, after the kindness and considera- 
 tion shown to her in providing the wed- 
 ding breakfast and outfit, was most un- 
 grateful ; not even a letter of thanks or 
 acknowledgment since the marriage — still 
 Mrs. Porringer could assure her friends 
 that that marriage was perfectly legal and 
 straightforward, and that they might feel 
 quite satisfied about their daughter's posi- 
 tion. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 That was the last intelligence of Libbie 
 Dyson. And as old Ben used to say, with 
 not unjustifiable indignation, 
 
 ' I don't want to hear no more. Lib- 
 bie's that sort as can take good care of 
 herself; and if she's too grand to remem- 
 ber her poor father, why, he can make 
 shift to do without her.' 
 
 That was how things had been at the 
 woodman's cottage for more than twenty 
 years, during which time the mother had 
 died, and Margaret, a little child when her 
 sister went away, had grown into a grave 
 thoughtful, serviceable woman, and then 
 had faded slowly month by month, still 
 holding fast mth the stedfastness of her 
 race, always firm in its purj)ose, whether 
 for good or ill, to such work as was possi- 
 ble to her, until now there was but a little 
 way between her and the end. 
 
 ^ I am very sorry, Margaret,' said Lady
 
 LADY lowater's companiox. 83 
 
 Lowater, as courteously as though she 
 had been making the apology to the Coun- 
 tess of Muchmarch herself. ' I found your 
 poor little kitten caught in one of the 
 traps in the plantation. I told Jefferson, 
 some time ago, that those traps were not 
 to be put down again, but there was some 
 mistake about it, and this is the conse- 
 quence. I can only tell you how grieved 
 I am. However, I have now distinctly 
 told him to bring them all to me and 
 have them destroyed in my presence, 
 but that cannot undo what has been 
 done. 
 
 Margaret was sitting by the kitchen fire- 
 side, in a big chintz-covered chair, the 
 chair her mother had died in. For the 
 present she was able to go about the house 
 a little, and ^^'ith her father's help do what 
 was needful to be done. She was a sensi- 
 ble, intelligent-looking woman, Avith that 
 
 g2
 
 84 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 great calm in lier eyes wMch the peace of 
 death brings to those who are nearing it. 
 Good-looking, one would have said, like 
 ^ our Libbie ' who was far away, but there 
 was something shining through the well- 
 cut features which the more prosperous 
 sister, with all her prettiness, must have 
 missed. 
 
 ^I did the best I could for it,' Lady 
 Lowater continued. ' It was not quite 
 dead when I found it, but I knew you 
 would not wish it to linger on in its 
 misery.' 
 
 ' Then you did your best, and I thank 
 your ladyship,' said Margaret, laying her 
 cheek to the soft little white head, and 
 fingering the little paws which would 
 never beguile her with their playfulness 
 any more. 'Those traps are cruel 
 things. I've heard father say how the 
 hedgehogs lie for days, half cut through in
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COilPANION. 85 
 
 them; and lie once brouglit home a 
 leveret that had had its neck well near 
 eaten away as it lay caught, but it was 
 alive all the same. It's a deal mercifuller 
 thing when they're killed right away. But 
 I hadn't ought to mention such things to 
 your ladyship.' 
 
 ' If such things are not too cruel to 
 happen they are not too cruel to be spoken 
 about,' said Lady Lowater. ' But your 
 kitten did not fare so badly as that. Jef- 
 ferson told me he had only put the trap 
 down about three-quarters of an hour be- 
 fore I found her. It w^as well done to in 
 this thing that death came to it soon. And 
 now I win bury it for you. You must not 
 sit looking at it like that.' 
 
 And Lady Lowater turned the little 
 dead creature so that the gaping wound in 
 its throat should not show. Margaret's 
 lip trembled.
 
 86 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 'You mustn't take that trouble, my 
 lady. Father will put it somewhere out 
 of the way when he comes in. It isn't for 
 the like of you to be worrying about it.' 
 
 ' No, Margaret, I will do it. I am the 
 right person to do it. I know where your 
 father keeps his spade, in that outhouse 
 among the ivy, does he not? Where 
 would you like it to be laid?' 
 
 But Margaret Avas crying. She could 
 not speak. 
 
 Lady Lowater rose. The tears seldom 
 came into her own eyes. There was only 
 a cramp in her fine straight brows, and 
 a set, hard expression uj)on her lips. 
 She went away into the outhouse, got 
 the spade, dug a little grave under 
 a lauristinus bush, just in front of 
 the kitchen window, and then, gently 
 taking the dead kitten from Margaret's 
 lap, laid it there with the moss round it.
 
 LADY LOAYATEr's COMPANION, 87 
 
 ' There,' she said, coming back after all 
 was made tidy and the spade put away. 
 ^ You can see its graYe as you sit here all 
 the day. And now you know that it can 
 never suffer any more.' 
 
 And, without another word, my lady 
 went away. But half an hour later, when 
 Margaret turned herself to look, there was 
 a ]30t of white hyacinths laid upon the 
 newly smoothed earth, hyacinths whiter 
 and sweeter than any in all the country 
 round. My lady had hastened home and 
 chosen them out of her store in the gi^een- 
 houses, and put them there herself, as a 
 peace-offering for the ill that by no fault 
 of hers had been done. 
 
 ' If anyone could put them on my own 
 gr^ve it were better,' she said to herself as 
 she turned away, ' but white flowers are 
 not for me.'
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ^ She's a good sort, is my Lady Lowater/ 
 said old Ben, when he came home and 
 heard about it all. ' I chanced upon the 
 head gardener as I was coming through 
 the potting sheds, and he told me her 
 ladyship was that particular that he could 
 scarce please her Avith a good enough 
 plant. He didn't want her to have that 
 one, didn't Marshall, because Mr. Antony 
 had spoke for it to be sent up with some 
 game to where his ncAV missis is a-coming 
 from, but my lady said to Margaret Dy- 
 son it should go, and nowheres else. And 
 that's the first time she's ever gone dead
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 89 
 
 against anything of Mr. Antony's 
 doing.' 
 
 * Ay, father, and to think of her burying 
 the little thing with her very own hands, 
 all thick with jewels as they were. And 
 looked at me when she'd done it as if she 
 couldn't be sorry enough. If it's a kind 
 heart and a tender can make a woman 
 haj^py, then my lady ought to be. And 
 yet she don't carry it in her face, and 
 there's people says you can't find her 
 equal for stiffness.' 
 
 ' And have said it to me, too, Margaret, 
 but I ahvays tells them it is because they 
 have not o^one far enouo;h do^^m. She's 
 never stiff to them as does their proper 
 duty by her. But, stiffness or no stiffness, 
 it isn't happiness that my Lady Lowater 
 carries in her face.' 
 
 ' Xo, father, it isn't, for all she's as kind 
 as kind can be. Maybe there's something
 
 90 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 she can't make straight. Folks that are 
 high learned, and has their own thinking 
 to do, must often be hard put to it. It 
 takes a meek spirit to be content.' 
 
 ' Maybe that's it, Madge honey. For 
 Luke Ballantyne, him as sings bass in the 
 choir, says he has never seen anything 
 like her face sometimes when the sermon 
 is on. You know where he sits he can 
 see her as the most of us can't, and he 
 says her eyes would turn a cinder cold, 
 and stares him through and through, albeit 
 he isn't on with any manner of mischief. 
 But to my mind it isn't looking that she 
 means at all. She don't heed him any 
 more than if he was a mawkin in a corn- 
 field. It's just that she's agate with her 
 own thoughts.' 
 
 ' Oh, father ! And that they should 
 make her look like that.' 
 
 ' One can't tell, honey. Anyhow,
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 91 
 
 there's tliat in her eyes that isn't like the 
 most of people in church. I've seen it 
 myself, for when Barnaby isn't there I sit 
 next Ballantyne, right in front of her.' 
 
 ' Well, father, they may say what they 
 A\ill, but this I'm sure of, there isn't a 
 kinder heart in the parish, nor a truer, 
 than my lady's ; and I should know, for I 
 was ten years at the Court from first to 
 last.' 
 
 ' Libbie had used to say she was very 
 sharp though, Madge.' 
 
 ' Maybe she did, father, and I wonder 
 who wouldn't have been sharp with a girl 
 when they thought their own husband 
 was setting eyes upon her, for an old sim- 
 pleton as he was. I've heard you say my- 
 self, father, that Libbie was always one 
 who knew when a man passed her way. I 
 was over young to understand anything 
 about it when she lived scullery -maid at
 
 92 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 the Court, but I've seen the girls there 
 when Sir Merrion and the officers were 
 about Avith their dogs at the back, and, if 
 I'd been my lady, I would have given it 
 them j list the same. Sharpness isn't more 
 than they deserve when it's a man at all, 
 to say nothing of the man being some- 
 body else's husband, and that somebody 
 oneself. It isn't me Libbie would have 
 got to stand by her if I'd been old enough 
 to know, when she come home in her 
 tempers because my lady had been hard 
 upon her.' 
 
 ' Madge, you're as stiff-backed as my 
 lady herself,' said old Ben Dyson, with a 
 little of the natural soft-heartedness of a 
 man towards the pretty fools who fall 
 down and worship him. ' Libbie was only 
 like the most of them for that. There's 
 many a girl does it, and never thinks a 
 bit of harm.'
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 93 
 
 * Not when she's doing it to somebody- 
 else's husband ? Nay, father, there you're 
 wrong. I lay if any of them gentlemen 
 with their guns had chanced to come past 
 here when first you married mother, and 
 her the best-looking girl in the parish, and 
 had given her as much as a look that he 
 oughtn't, you'd have been down upon him 
 -with your fists, let him be my Lord Much- 
 march, or let him be who he might.' 
 
 ^Ay, that would I, wench,' said old 
 Ben, with a gleam from under his shaggy 
 brows of the temper which keeps English 
 hearths and homes at their best. And 
 then he dropped his head a little. 
 
 ' You've caught me there, Madge. It's 
 when it comes home to oneself, one knows 
 what it is. If it was that way, my lady 
 had good need to be sharp.' 
 
 ' Then that ivas the way it was, father. 
 Libbie didn't mean any harm, I don't sup-
 
 94 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 pose, not a bit ; and I only know what I've 
 heard poor mother say. But, since I've 
 been grown up, I've seen it for myself. 
 It's a way a girl has, especially if she's 
 good-looking, of letting a gentleman see 
 that she knows it, and that she doesn't 
 mind if he knows it too. And old Sir 
 Guy was the sort that would let her see 
 that he knew it. Mother was in the right 
 of it to take her away.' 
 
 'Yes, Madge, I don't doubt it. And 
 Libbie did well for herself mth going 
 away — so well that she doesn't stand need 
 to think of her old father any more now. 
 That's a poor way of doing.' 
 
 'Yes, father, but it might have been 
 worse.' 
 
 ' You're right, Madge ; and I don't com- 
 plain. She was safe bound an honest wife, 
 and that Avas the most I had to look to. 
 I often used to tell your mother Libbie
 
 LADY LOWATEe's COMPANION. 95 
 
 wasn't the sort to stay quiet in a place 
 like this, when she could better herself by 
 stirring about. And where she's got to 
 now, isn't here nor there to me any longer. 
 I don't doubt but what she's eating her 
 bread with a deal more butter to it than 
 what you and me get, and, as long as she's 
 eating it honestly, I'm content. She's 
 done ^yith. me and I've done with her, and 
 there's an end.' 
 
 ' But, if anything happened as she come 
 back, father, you wouldn't turn upon her.' 
 
 ' Turn upon her, honey — what should I 
 turn upon her for ? But she'll none come 
 back. I've no doubt she's holding up her 
 head now among as good folk as she once 
 washed dishes for. If it had been any- 
 thing different, Peg, you and me would 
 have heard tell of it. Shame never stands 
 need of a coach and four to brinof it faster 
 to them that it can hurt. As Ion 2: as we
 
 96 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 don't hear nothing, Libbie is as safe in 
 her silks and satins as me in my clouts.' 
 
 ' I believe she is, father ; and now I'm 
 tired. It kind of overset me, did my lady 
 being so tender and so thoughtful. And 
 I loved the little bit of a dead thing out 
 there. I was fain to shed tears, for all 
 my lady was standing right up beside me.' 
 
 ' And didn't need to be ashamed of it, 
 honey,' said the old woodman, coming 
 nearer to his daughter and taking her 
 hand, white with the touch of death, into 
 his own which had so much of life's rough 
 work to do. 
 
 And then there was silence for awhile, 
 and then he said, patiently, quietly, as men 
 of his sort speak of these things, 
 
 ^ Peg honey, the doctor says you haven't 
 a far way to go now.' 
 
 ' I know that, father, without his telling 
 me. One don't stand in need of a doctor
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 97 
 
 to tell you what's plain enough to see. 
 And whether it's long or whether it's short 
 I don't trouble, only for how things will 
 be with you when I'm away.' 
 
 ' Then don't trouble for that, wench. I 
 shall do for myself, never fear. It isn't 
 being left alone as will ever be too much 
 for me, so long as I know you're well took 
 care on. You've been a good wench to 
 me. Peg, and I'd like to know you are 
 going where you'd get your earnings.' 
 
 ' I'm going where it'll be all right, father, 
 don't you be afraid.' 
 
 Ben looked hard into the fire, a world of 
 doubting and questioning in his weather- 
 worn face. Then he said, 
 
 ^ Now there's Miss Pentwistle. She says 
 there isn't no such thing as earnings over 
 yonder, saving and except as you earn 
 what don't do you any good. She says 
 you may labour and toil and use the best 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 of your endeavours, but it's all to one end- 
 ing as long as you don't believe same as 
 ^be believes. And she says a deal worse 
 nor that, for sbe says the better you do the 
 worse it'll be for you if tbe believing isn't 
 there, and that the only wages you ever 
 get in kingdom come is the wages for evil 
 doing. Now, Peggy honey, that's what 
 stumps me. It's all fair and even enough 
 for a man to take his beatings when he's 
 been a rascal, and to feel he's deserved 
 ^em too. But just the same if he's done 
 the best of his possibles, ay, and done 'em 
 when it's been a hard work and a long, 
 then I say give him his earnings and make 
 him welcome to 'em. Don't go and say 
 to him all the bad's your own and all the 
 good's some one else's. That isn't how a 
 kind master would treat an honest servant 
 on this side, and I can't see why he should 
 be treated so on the other neither.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 99 
 
 ' Father, it gets past me when it comes 
 to that. But Mr. Rock could tell you all 
 about it. He says the next world is just 
 what you make it for yourself, by the way 
 you live in this.' 
 
 ' Does he, though. Then he doesn't sail 
 in the same boat ^vith Miss Pentmstle. 
 I'd go and hear him a bit oftener, ay, that 
 would I, if I thought he'd half as much 
 sense in him as that. Why, it's something 
 for a man to feel he's got his own share in it, 
 and if he does his best his master's pleased 
 with him, and if he sneaks he's got his pun- 
 ishment to bear. That's my sort of religion.' 
 
 ' And it's Mr. Rock's too, father, if you 
 gave yourself a chance to find it out.' 
 
 ' Then I ^^ill, Peggy, that will I, for I'm 
 often sore put to it, though I don't say 
 nothing about these things. And now, 
 wench, if you're tired, lean your head down 
 on my shoulder and have a bit of sleep.' 
 
 h2
 
 100 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ^ Put me into my velvet gown, Jennings, 
 as soon as you can,' said Lady Lo water, 
 stepping down the corridor, quiet and 
 stately, between tlie two long rows of 
 family portraits, one of those a portrait of 
 herself as a bride in bridal raiment. ^ Put 
 me into my velvet gown and let the orna- 
 ments alone for to-night. I know I am 
 late, and I do not want to keep Miss Pent- 
 wistle waiting for dinner.' 
 
 ' And if she did have to wait for you, 
 my lady,' said the obsequious Jennings, ^ it 
 isn't for her to complain so very much. It 
 isn't what she's had to do many times this
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 101 
 
 fifteen years past. And, as for your lady- 
 ship going down to dinner without what is 
 proper in the way of ornaments, I should 
 be sorry to think it had come to that.^ 
 
 And accordingly, after laying forth the 
 well-worn black velvet, Jennings, with the 
 decision of a woman who knows her duty, 
 unlocked her mistress's jewel-case, and 
 took out the diamond set which Lady 
 Lowater always wore of an evening, saying 
 as she did so, 
 
 ' It isn't a matter of who waits or who 
 doesn't wait ; it is that I should dress 
 you, my lady, as becomes the mistress of 
 Lowater Court ; and that I would do if 
 there were fifty Miss Pentwistles wanting 
 the dinner-bell to ring.' 
 
 ^ Very well, Jennings. Do as you like, 
 only be quick about it. It doesn't signify 
 what you put on me.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lady, that is what you always
 
 102 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 say. If your ladyship only knew how you 
 look when you let me do my best for you^ 
 you wouldn't say it didn't signify. There 
 is never anyone comes to this house that 
 can hold a candle to your ladyship for 
 being as stately as stately can be when 
 you have what is proper to it.' 
 
 ' I should be sorry to think, Jennings^ 
 that the stateliness depended on velvet 
 and diamonds,' said my lady, as the maid, 
 having seated her mistress in the great 
 arm-chair in front of the mirror, proceeded 
 to let down and arrange her long wavy 
 hair, almost silver white, though she was 
 not fifty yet. ' They say old women like to 
 be flattered, but you need not trouble me 
 with it. Diamonds or no diamonds are all 
 the same to me.' 
 
 Jennings smiled to just the extent that 
 a person in her position ought to smile 
 when on duty.
 
 LADY LOWATEe's COMPANION. 103 
 
 ' Do you think I haven't found that out, 
 iny lady, and me having waited upon you 
 this twenty -five years ? If ever there was 
 anything that tempted me to give up, it 
 was your never letting me do my best for 
 you — at least, never since just at the first 
 — any more than if you were the most 
 ordinary woman ste23ping. I've often said 
 a maid that understands her business is 
 wasted upon you, my lady. What I could 
 do with your beautiful white hair, if you 
 would only let me ! To my thinking, it's 
 more beautiful now than it was five and 
 twenty years ago, when first I set it for 
 you. And there have been many changes 
 since then, my lady.' 
 
 Lady Lowater, her hands clasped upon 
 her scarlet dressing-gown, looked away 
 past the mirror to the south plantation, 
 where it crept up the rising ground to- 
 wards the rock-seat. Leafless now, purple-
 
 104 LADY LOWATEK's COMPANION. 
 
 black in the gloom. Many changes ? Yes. 
 Once it had been very pleasant to wander 
 there amongst the primroses and blue- 
 bells, Lady Belleray's chestnuts so thick 
 in leaf that not a bit of the far-off ocean 
 peeped through. Joy for her so close, 
 pleasure so luring, life so young, that 
 through their veils no future reckoning 
 time had leave to look. Now the prim- 
 roses were gone, and the trees were bare, 
 and one could see the cruel traps amongst 
 the moss, and one did not need to be told 
 that a living creature could lie caught in 
 one of them, bleeding, struggling for days. 
 Nay, not for days, for many and many a 
 year, no one coming by to kill it out of its 
 misery. 
 
 But her ladyship only smiled at the 
 waiting-woman's kindly flatteries. 
 
 ' The less you do with grey hairs, Jen- 
 nings, the better. When it comes to that,
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPAXIOX. 105 
 
 tuck them out of sight under a cap and 
 stay at home.' 
 
 '^Yhich is just what you do, my lady, 
 and more pity. For my part, I say that 
 it's often not until grey hairs come that 
 you've time to think about enjoying your- 
 self. And then, put them under a cap or 
 do what you will with them, you're old 
 enough and sensible enough to get some 
 good out of life. I wouldn't go back 
 again and be young, not I. And when 
 Sir Merrion marries, and you've somebody 
 young and pretty about you, and grand- 
 children chattering and pattering all over 
 the place, why, your ladyship will be as 
 cheerful as ever. Talk about not carino; ! 
 If it was Miss Pentwistle I had to do for, 
 she wouldn't tell me it was no consequence 
 what I put her into. I have had to do for 
 her sometimes, my lady, and the less the 
 better.'
 
 106 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 ' I daresay, Jennings. Miss Pentwistle 
 thinks more about these things than I do. 
 Will you see that the fire is made up here 
 in good time. I shall not be late to-night.' 
 
 Something in my lady's tone showed the 
 perceptive Jennings that further remarks 
 were not required, and with fine tact she 
 struck ofi* into indifi*erent topics, or lapsed 
 into a cheerful, unconscious sort of silence 
 which had no touch of sullenness in it, 
 until her work was accomplished, just a& 
 the dinner-gong sounded. 
 
 ' I told your ladyship it should be done,* 
 she said, A\dth a confident smile, as Lady 
 Lowater gathered up her handkerchief and 
 fan and other small belongings. ' As long 
 as I am what I am, my mistress shall not 
 go down of an evening without everything 
 that is proper, let her give me as little 
 encouragement as ever she likes for it.' 
 
 Lady Lowater turned and looked in the
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 107 
 
 mirror. Very satisfactory for everything 
 but the face. The face so hard, so joy- 
 less, so emptied of everj'thing that had 
 made it once like that bridal face in the 
 long corridor. But one must not think of 
 that. 
 
 ' You are a good soul, Jennings. I wish 
 you had somebody better to spend your 
 talent upon. But you must have patience. 
 One cannot last for ever.' 
 
 ' If you are content, my lady, I am,' said 
 Jennings, ^^dth a curtsey.
 
 108 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 An hour later the serious business of din- 
 ner was over, and Lady Lowater and Miss 
 Pentmstle sat trifling with their wine and 
 walnuts in the long dining-room, all round 
 and about them the portraits of the 
 Lowater people in various stages of fresh- 
 ness or decay. The freshest was that of 
 Sir Guy, which hung over the sideboard. 
 Sir Guy the bloated, Aviinkled, and mcked, 
 but a baronet for all that, and therefore a 
 desirable match, in her parents' eyes, for 
 beautiful Gwendolen Merrion, who, 'though 
 fair and stately enough for the court of the
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 109 
 
 queen herself, would onl}^ achieve a title 
 by marrying for it. 
 
 Of course everyone knew that the title, 
 and not Sir Guy, was the attraction. And 
 some people knew, or thought they knew, 
 that beautiful Gwendolen's heart was be- 
 stowed in another direction. But was it 
 likely that her parents would allow her to 
 wed the younger brother of a country 
 solicitor, when the head of one of the 
 oldest families in the country wished to 
 make her his wife ? Small account where 
 her love was, when circumstances had so 
 plainly marked out the j)^th of pru- 
 dence. As soon as the baronet's inten- 
 tions were hinted at, the younger brother, 
 though courteously entreated before, was 
 forbidden Captain Merrion's house. And 
 as soon as the baronet's proposal was made, 
 and the lady's unmlling consent obtained, 
 the judicious parents took their daughter
 
 110 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 to Italy, and travelled about with her 
 there, Sir Guy hovering near with splendid 
 presents and promises, until the wedding- 
 day was fixed, and, at the little Enghsh 
 church in Florence, Gwendolen Merrion 
 become my Lady Lowater, and was 
 l^rought home one May morning amidst 
 ringing of beUs and scattering of flowers 
 and presentation of congratulatory ad- 
 dresses from jubilant tenantry, to the 
 home where she was to live the rest of her 
 days a miserable woman. 
 
 And the younger brother. He was of 
 the sort that do not take kindly to disap- 
 pointment. With a wife that he loved, he 
 would have fought and done Avell in life's 
 battle ; but that wanting, heartlessness and 
 falseness and loneliness instead of that, he 
 struck his colours and went over to the 
 enemy, as many another man has done. 
 For awhile he lingered about in the neigh-
 
 LADY LOWATEk's COMPANIOX. Ill 
 
 bourhood, prowling by stealth amongst 
 the Avoods and copses of Lowater, to get 
 speech or sight of the lady who had been 
 false to him, but who loved him still. And 
 then he was to be heard of at the gaming 
 tables of Byborough. And then he sank 
 among the dregs of society, only coining to 
 the surface now and then to sponge upon 
 his respectable elder brother. And then 
 he was finally and entirely paid out of the 
 partnership. And then his clothes 
 were picked up by a fisherman beside one 
 of the rock pools of Scarmouth, and there 
 was an end of poor Theodore Antony. 
 
 It was about the time that Theodore 
 used to prowl in the copses and planta- 
 tions, unknown to anybody but Gwen- 
 dolen, who would meet him there some- 
 times, and think what life might have 
 been, that Sir Guy would have my lady's 
 portrait taken in her bridal raiment, and
 
 112 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 huno; in tlie lono' corridor amono'st the 
 
 O CD O 
 
 other Lowater people. And a couple of 
 years later, after those clothes had been 
 picked up on the Scarmouth beach, he 
 had still another picture painted of his 
 bonnie wife ; for he Avas proud of her, 
 as well he might be, though not much 
 love was lost between them, and though 
 her temper tried him. And this time her 
 little lad, now Sir Merrion, sat upon her 
 knee, tugging with chubby fingers, which 
 only had the strength of a year's life in 
 them, at her beautiful golden hair. The 
 face was very fair still, though it had lost 
 a little of its roundness ; but for j)i*ide 
 and grace, and for the perfectness of every 
 feature, it could hold its own with any 
 of the grand dames whose beauties had 
 been handed down from centuries past. 
 The Merrions were a handsome race, 
 if poor enough, and amongst them all
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 113 
 
 there had never been one like Gwendolen. 
 
 Perhaps my lady had only lost the 
 roundness from her own cheeks to give 
 it to those of her little bo}^ She had 
 given him her curling, golden hair, too, 
 and his eyes were full of a laughing joy 
 which might once have sparkled in her 
 own. But Sir Guy did not like the pic- 
 ture. The boy had nothing of the Lowater 
 face, he said, not a feature to show that 
 he belonged to the family. And, because 
 he said it so often, my lady had the 
 picture taken away and put in the long 
 corridor. And, after Sir Guy died, she 
 had her own bride-portrait taken away, 
 too ; so now there was only the old 
 baronet, hanging in solitary state over 
 the side-board, opposite where my lady sat 
 at dinner-time. 
 
 The old family butler, who was Miss 
 Pentwistle's special delight, had placed 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 the wine upon the table, and taken his 
 departure. The two ladies were left to 
 wile away what time they could over their 
 walnuts. Then they would go into the 
 drawing-room for a nap, then have coiFee, 
 then prayers, and to bed. Lady Lowater 
 was not in a talkino; mood this evenino^. 
 That being the case. Miss Pentwistle felt 
 it her duty to be the more conversational. 
 Else, how would the time ever be got 
 over? And Mr. Antony's approaching 
 marriage was a fruitful theme. 
 
 ' Mrs. Petipase tells me the painters are 
 in the house already, and I am sure they 
 have good need to be there. When a man 
 lives alone, he does let thino:s sret into 
 a state. And a lady who comes from an 
 establishment of her own knows what to 
 expect. It is not like marrying a young 
 girl. Depend upon it, Mrs. Dormer will 
 make him do what is proper. If a man
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 115 
 
 wants to know what complete subjection 
 is, let him marry a fascinating widow. 
 She Avill soon teach him.' 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle, you are spiteful. You 
 should not l)ear malice against an old 
 suitor. I am very glad for my own sake 
 that you did not choose to marry Mr. 
 Antony ; but be generous to him, never- 
 theless.' 
 
 ' Thank you very much, Lady Lowater,' 
 said Miss Pentwistle, taking for granted 
 that Lady Lowater's gladness could only 
 proceed from satisfaction with the man- 
 lier in which, for the last hfteen years, 
 she had fulhlled her duties as companion 
 to her ladyship. ' I am sure, if I have 
 been able to make }'ou comfortable, it is 
 greatly in consequence of your OAvn kind- 
 ness to me. No one could have been 
 more considerate.' 
 
 Lady Lowater smiled a weary smile. 
 
 i2
 
 116 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 She had not meant that at all. It was 
 Mr. Antony's marrying anyone, that vexed 
 her. She would have preferred his re- 
 maining single. Because, when a man 
 marries, he may tell his wife many things, 
 especially if she is of the beguiling sort. 
 But it was no use enlio^htenins^ Miss Pent- 
 wistle about that. So she only said, 
 carelessly, 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, we get on wonderfully well 
 together. I am sure I should not get on 
 half so' well with anyone else. Did Mrs. 
 Petipase tell you anything more about the 
 lady ? Is she young ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! no She cannot be that, because 
 you know she has a grown-up daughter, 
 the one that is a hospital nurse now at 
 Hurchester.' 
 
 ' Of course. I forgot, how stupid ! We 
 must put her on the shady side of forty 
 then, at any rate. Dormer, Hurchester.
 
 LADY LOAVATEr's COMPANION. 117 
 
 Don't you remember, Miss Pentwistle, 
 when Merrion's regiment was there, he 
 met with that accident and was taken into 
 the hospital because it was close at hand, 
 and a young girl nursed him so splendidly. 
 I am almost sure the name was Dor- 
 mer. I thought when you first mentioned it 
 to me this afternoon, that I had heard it 
 before. Suppose now it should be the 
 same.' 
 
 ' It is quite possible. She won't live 
 here, though, if she is a hospital nurse at 
 Hurchester.' 
 
 ' No. And Mr. Antony is not the man 
 to make a home for somebody else's grown 
 up daughter. At the same time I should 
 very much like to see her. I shall never 
 forget what I owe to anyone who has been 
 kind to my boy.' 
 
 ' My dear Lady Lowater, she only did 
 her duty. She would never expect you
 
 118 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 to pay her any extra attention for that. 
 They have to be good to anyone who hap- 
 pens to be brought into their ward. But 
 what else do you think Mrs. Petipase tokl 
 me ?' 
 
 ' Oh, dear ! I cannot teU. That woman 
 is such a well-spring of information.' 
 
 ' She told me there are reports about in 
 Byborough that Mr. Antony's brother 
 never really was drowned ; that scape- 
 grace brother, you know, that was such a 
 disgrace to him. You must remember it. 
 It was not long before dear Sir Guy's 
 death.' 
 
 ' I remember quite well,' said Lady Low- 
 ater, her fingers trembling a little as she 
 picked the kernel out of a walnut. '' He 
 loas drowned.' 
 
 'So everybody thought, but I always 
 had my doubts. Twenty years ago people 
 believed those things a great deal more
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 119 
 
 readily than they do now. If a scape- 
 grace Avanted to get out of the way of his 
 creditors, he had nothing to do but lay his 
 clothes by a river side, or, still better, by 
 the sea, because one cannot drag that, and 
 then disappear. Everyone took it for 
 granted that he was drowned. But ever 
 since that notorious case of the man at 
 Brighton being drowned in a similar way, 
 and his widow waiting a year or two, and 
 inarryino^ ao'ain, and o-oino- out to Aus- 
 traha with her second husband, and finding 
 the first flourishing as a successful gold 
 digger, the public has been more sceptical 
 about these mysterious disappearances.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that people are sceptical 
 now about Mr. Antony's brother?' said 
 LadyLowater, still bending over that bit of 
 kernel that would not be twisted out of 
 the shell. 
 
 ' Well, Mrs. Petipase said she had heard
 
 120 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 doubts expressed, though of course no one 
 would say anything to Mr. Antony. If 
 he happened to be flourishing as a success- 
 ful gold-digger, it would be right enough, 
 because then he might be made to pay his 
 debts, but Mrs. Petipase seems to think it 
 is anything but that. I wonder if the widow 
 knows.' 
 
 ' The widow ! What widow ?' said Lady 
 Lowater, sharply. 
 
 ' Mrs. Dormer, of course. Mr. Antony's 
 widow. I mean the widow he is going to 
 marry, or to speak more properly who is 
 going to marry him. I have no doubt she 
 is the sort of person who would take the 
 initiative in such matters.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I did not understand you at first. 
 It seemed as if you were speaking of 
 somebody else the other person had left 
 behind.' 
 
 ' Xo. I never heard that Mr. Antony's
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPAXIOX. 121 
 
 brother was married at all. I am sure he 
 ffave trouble enouirh without sacldlino; his 
 respectable relative with a widow and 
 family. He must have been a great nui- 
 sance until he disappeared.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle spoke with some as- 
 perity. She could not forget that, if it 
 had not been for that disreputable family 
 connection, sponging as she was afraid he 
 would upon a once slender professional 
 income, she herself, as Clayton Antony's 
 wife, would have stood effectually in the 
 way of this fascinating Mrs. Dormer, who 
 was now going to appropriate the comforts 
 and conveniences of the \dlla on the By- 
 borough Road. And, just so far as her 
 personal interests had been damaged, 
 though damaged by her own over-prudent 
 care for them, so far she was ready to 
 credit the yet unknown Mrs. Dormer 
 with any foibles, little or big, which
 
 122 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 might militate against her friendly re- 
 ception in Lowater or Scarmouth society. 
 
 ' I wonder if she knows there is an}'- 
 body of that kind likely to turn up. Don't 
 you think, Lady Lowater, it ought to be 
 mentioned to her? In kindness, of course.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' said my lady, with a hard 
 smile; 'such kindness as we show to people 
 we dislike. Let her find it out for her- 
 self, if it has to be found out at all. Mrs. 
 Petipase gathers up all sorts of rubbish 
 in that dredging-net of hers. As likely 
 as not this particular piece may have to 
 be picked out and thrown away.' 
 
 ' Well, then, if there is not anything 
 uncomfortable in the family now,' per- 
 sisted Miss Pentwistle, ' she ought to 
 know that there was at one time. A 
 man has no right to ' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle gave a little start.
 
 LADY lowater's co^^ipaxiox. 123 
 
 • I am sure I heard a footstep on the 
 terraee.' 
 
 • So did I.' .said Lady Lowater, quietly. 
 ' It must be Mr. Antony. He is the only 
 person who comes to the terrace entrance 
 at this time of the evening.' 
 
 'Oh, dear!' said Miss Pentwistle, 'to 
 think of it. And when we are talking 
 him over so freely. What a good thing- 
 it is people don't know what we say about 
 them. Do you think we should mention 
 anything to him about his engagement ?" 
 
 Lady Lowater shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' I daresay he has come on purpose to 
 tell us about it. He Avould think it 
 necessary to pay that amount of atten- 
 tion.' 
 
 And then she looked up at the footman 
 who had just come in. 
 
 ' Tell Mr. Antony we will see him here, 
 Simmons. Say we are alone this evening.'
 
 124 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The family solicitor came in. A small, 
 quiet, scantily bearded man, pale of com- 
 plexion, very carefully dressed, observant 
 in his rapid glance, with a curious mixture 
 in his deportment of something not quite 
 at home with the upper classes, and some- 
 thing else which gave him authority to be 
 there in spite of that lack. 
 
 ' Good evening, Mr. Antony,' said my 
 lady. 'We thought it would be rather 
 dull for you in the drawing-room, and, 
 you see, we are just a little late to-night.' 
 
 'I do see,' said Mr. Antony, with n 
 glance at the clock. ' I thought I should
 
 LxVDY lowaterV compaxiox. 125 
 
 probably have found you at your coiFee 
 in the drawino'-room.' 
 
 ' Yes, and so you would have done ; but 
 Miss Pentwistle and I took a walk through 
 the plantations this afternoon, and I found 
 Margaret Dyson's little white kitten caught 
 in one of the vermin-traps, not quite dead. 
 So I put it out of its misery, and then 
 took it to her.' 
 
 ' Those traps do catch other than vermin 
 sometimes,' said Mr. Antony, quietly. 
 
 ' Thev do. But it must not be so anv 
 more here. I have told Jefferson most 
 distinctly that they are not to be put 
 down again. Simmons, another bottle of 
 port.' 
 
 And sweeping her eyes over the two 
 men with equal indifference, apparently. 
 Lady Lowater dismissed the servant for 
 wine, and motioned Mr. Antony to a seat 
 at the table. There was a silence. Her
 
 126 LADY LOWATEr's CO:Mr ANION. 
 
 ladyship Avas breathing a little more 
 quickly than usual. One could tell that 
 hj the restless sparkle of the diamonds at 
 her throat. And those on her rings, too, 
 gave a hundred sparkles for one that they 
 had given before. Otherwise she made no 
 sign. 
 
 ' You seem to have a difficulty in get- 
 tino^ those walnuts out of their shells,' said 
 Mr. Antony. ' Let me assist you. And 
 yet you ought to be able to manage them 
 easily enough noAv, so late in the season. 
 For myself, I never care for walnuts after 
 Christmas. I get tired of them.' 
 
 ' Do you ? I tell Franks to bring them 
 every day as long as they last. One can 
 employ oneself over them so conveniently. 
 They are as good as fancy-work for getting 
 rid of time. How are your strawberries 
 getting on ? In blossom yet ?' 
 
 ' Just. I shall have fruit by the end of 
 April.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 127 
 
 ' Then you are in advance of us. But I 
 don't care much about havino^ thino^s so 
 early. They always taste better if you 
 wait for them until their proper season.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lady Lowater/ said Miss Pent- 
 wistle, ' how can you think so? I think 
 half the flavour of fruit depends on o-et- 
 ting it before other people. I ahvays have 
 a feeling of superiority when I am eating 
 anything six months before its time. Why, 
 when the gardener brings us grapes in 
 May, I declare I feel almost as if I belonged 
 to the aristocracy.' 
 
 Mr. Antony, helping himself to a glass 
 of port, laughed a short, dry laugh. It 
 might be at Miss Pentwistle's frequently- 
 expressed adoration for the upper classes. 
 
 ' I believe some of them have no better 
 patent than yours, if that is all, Miss 
 Pentwistle.' 
 
 Mr. Antony was looking at Miss Pent-
 
 128 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 wistle as he began this sentence. He fin- 
 ished with a steady glance at Lady Lowater, 
 accompanied by a precise and careful bow 
 as he took his first sip of the wine. 
 
 With the faintest possible inclination of 
 the head, my lady dropped her beautiful 
 eyelids. That was all the notice she took. 
 
 ' I hope you have good news of Sir 
 Merrion, Lady Lowater.' 
 
 ' Many thanks, yes. He is quite well.' 
 
 ' And hopes soon to be on his way home, 
 I suppose. I think I heard some time ago 
 that he proposed taking furlough in April 
 or May.' 
 
 'Yes, in April or May. That is, if — 
 yes, in April or May, I suppose.' 
 
 • Lady Lowater,' said Miss Pentwistle, 
 ' will you not let me pick the walnuts for 
 you ? You know I nearly always do it.' 
 
 ' Lady Lowater is very independent. 
 Miss Pentwistle,' said Mr. Antony. 'You
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 129 
 
 have just heard her refuse my assistance. 
 I must say I hke to pick my own 'v\^alnuts 
 too. And, when Sir Merrion comes home, 
 I suppose it will be to look for a wife.' 
 
 ' My son will please himself in that,' 
 said Lady Lowater. 
 
 ' Of course — of course. A man who 
 does anything else in such matters is not 
 worth a lady's attention. At the same 
 time, he lingers long. And now that he 
 has the title ' 
 
 Here Mr. Antony again looked towards 
 m}' lady, but she would not so much as 
 Hft her eyes. Only the sparkles came and 
 went more rapidly than ever on her fin- 
 o^ers and at her throat. Miss Pentwistle, 
 however, could not resist both looking and 
 replying. The opportunity was too tempt- 
 ing, and ever since the uninvited guest 
 appeared she had been longing to put in a 
 word about his own matrimonial prospects. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 ^ Nay, Mr. Antony/ slie said, with a 
 glance intended to be partly miscliievous 
 and partly reproachful. ' It is you who 
 are lingering long. But we have heard 
 that you intend to amend that fault. 
 Have we not. Lady Lowater ?' 
 
 Lady Lowater lifted her eyebrows a 
 little. That was all. But she managed 
 to express both indiiference and contempt 
 in doing so. Miss Pentwistle did not 
 notice either, and continued, 
 
 'Mrs. Petipase told me all about it 
 this very morning. And she says the 
 wedding is to be in about a month. 
 Now, we only want you to contradict 
 it, if you can.' 
 
 'Miss Pentwistle, I would not do any- 
 thing so rude, and especially when Mrs. 
 Petipase has told you. That excellent 
 lady is right, for once in her life. I am 
 contemplating marriage. '
 
 LADY LO^yATER's COMPANION. 131 
 
 Lady Lowater's companion gave a start 
 of genuine surprise. Most men beat about 
 the bush a little before openly owning to 
 matrimonial intentions. AVas he making 
 game of her ? 
 
 'Mr. Antony, now do be serious. Of 
 course gentlemen are all contemplating 
 matrimony, more or less. But are you 
 o'oino' to be married? That is what I mean.' 
 
 'Yes, yes,' said Lady Lowater, im- 
 patiently. ' Tell us all about it, if the 
 thing is really going to happen. And. 
 as there is nothing like being prompt in 
 matters of business, w^iat would you like 
 for a wedding present ? An ormolu time- 
 piece, or a dish of strawberries six months 
 before their season, or a handsome family 
 Bible?' 
 
 Mr. Antonv smiled. He could afford 
 to do so when my Lady Lowater lost 
 her temper with him. There w^as nothing 
 
 K i>
 
 132 LADY LOWATERS COMPANION. 
 
 but the most scrupulous politeness in his 
 tones as he answered. 
 
 ' One values a marriao^e-o^ift as the sriver 
 has put something of herself into it, Lady 
 Lo water.' 
 
 * Exactly,' said Miss Pentwistle, who 
 had made up her mind to give him a 
 cigar-case, with a forget-me-not embroi- 
 dered upon it. ' And one cannot put 
 oneself into a Bible.' 
 
 * Xo,' said the lawyer. ' The only thing 
 is to put the Bible into oneself 
 
 Miss Pentwistle drew herself up. This 
 was trifling with sacred subjects. Lady 
 Lowater flung aside a bad walnut, and 
 said, impatiently, 
 
 ' Is the lady handsome, Mr. Antony ? 
 That is the most imjDortant thing.' 
 
 ' Very handsome indeed. Lady Lowater. 
 It was necessary that she should supple- 
 ment my deficiencies in that direction.'
 
 LADY LOWATEE S COMPANION. 133 
 
 ' That was my own idea ; but of course 
 I w^oulcl not express it. And fascinating, 
 too?' 
 
 ' That goes without saying. Otherwise, 
 the results could not have been what they 
 are.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, they could, if there had 
 been plenty of money. However, we will 
 not go into that question. Beauty and 
 wit are enough. It is well to believe 
 oneself worthy of so choice a combina- 
 tion. And of course you have asked 
 yourself whether the lady is equally for- 
 tunate in her selection ? It is not always 
 that a man weighs well with himself 
 whether the giving balances the gift.' 
 
 There was scorn and bitterness in Lady 
 Lowater's voice as she said this ; more 
 than Miss Pentwistle, bent upon finding- 
 out additional particulars about the lady, 
 could discern. Mr. Antony detected both,
 
 134 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 and smiled. He felt himself in the posi- 
 tion of a keeper who is teasing a caged 
 leopard. The creature may flash its beau- 
 tiful eyes, and show its claws as much as 
 it likes ; the bars are there, and the keeper 
 is safe. Besides, he has the key. 
 
 ' You are severe. Lady Lowater. You 
 might have discovered before this that I 
 am not a man to take unfair advantage 
 of my opportunities. However, the event 
 will j^rove, and I hope to your satisfaction, 
 that my future wife has not made a mis- 
 take in committing her happiness to ni}' 
 keeping.' 
 
 Lady Lowater dipped her slender finger- 
 tips in the water beside her, and then she 
 took the lemon-leaf which floated on the 
 top, and crushed it through and through, 
 crushed it until there Avas no shape left 
 in it, then flung it back again. 
 
 ' Shall we go ?' she said, turning to Miss
 
 LADY LOWATEe's COMPANION. 135 
 
 Pentwistle, and rising. ' Mr. Antony, do 
 you care to come with us now, or will you 
 stay longer over your wine ?' 
 
 Mr. Antony was on his feet in a mo- 
 ment, and at the door, to hold it open for 
 the ladies. 
 
 'If you will permit me, I will join you 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said my lady, with courteous 
 indifference. ' I can quite imagine you 
 have much to tell us.' 
 
 ' I have much to tell you^'' replied Mr. 
 Anton}', laying the slightest possible stress 
 on that last pronoun. And there was still 
 that indefinable something in his manner, 
 of the keeper teasing the leopard, quite 
 lost, however, upon the unperceptive Miss 
 Pentwistle, who rephed briskly, as she 
 followed Lady Lowater into the hall, 
 
 ' I was sure of that, Mr. Antony, from 
 the very first, and we are so anxious to
 
 136 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 hear all about it. In fact, we have scarce- 
 ly talked of anything else since we first 
 heard about it, have we, Lady Lowater?' 
 
 ' Scarcely. But then we only heard just 
 before dinner. At the same time there is 
 nothing which interests idle vfomen like 
 ourselves so much as hearing of a new 
 engagement. One has a sort of cruel plea- 
 sure in welcoming another victim into the 
 fatal circle. One knows so well what is to 
 come of it. Don't look so shocked, Miss 
 Pentwistle.' 
 
 'Not in the least, dear Lady Lowater,' 
 said Miss Pentwistle, with a louch of pro- 
 priety nevertheless. ' I quite understand it 
 is only your way of putting things. You 
 always do express yourself with force and 
 originality. I am very sorry if I appeared 
 not to understand you. Mr. Antony, may 
 we ask when the happy event is to take 
 place ?'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 137 
 
 ' You may ask whatever you like,' re- 
 plied that gentleman, following the ladies 
 into the drawing-room, and drawing Lady 
 Lowater's easy chair to the fire 
 
 He stood by until she was comfortably 
 seated, with her fan and her little oddments 
 on a side-table within reach. Then with a 
 shade less of solicitude he waited upon Miss 
 Pentwistle, who appeared rather flurried 
 with the attention. And then he strolled 
 about the room, looking at the pictures. 
 
 You may ask whatever you like, Miss 
 Pentwistle, and I will tell you just as 
 much as I think proper. My present in- 
 tention is to marry Mrs. Dormer, of Hur- 
 chester, on the seventeenth of March, 
 exactly one month from the present 
 time.' 
 
 ' Then you must make a tolerably long 
 wedding-tour, Mr. Antony,' said my lady, 
 ' for I am quite sure the house will not be
 
 138 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 ready for lier by that time. You have no 
 idea how much a lady requires.' 
 
 ' Not more, I hope, than I shall be will- 
 ing to do for her. But Ave expect to be 
 away for at least six weeks. I have not 
 had a real holiday for a long time.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then it is to be Italy, and all that 
 sort of thing, I suppose. Very charming 
 for Mrs. Dormer, if she has never been 
 there before. Does she know the Contin- 
 ent ? Perhaps not.' 
 
 Lady Lowater said this spitefully on 
 purpose. Mr. Antony might understand, 
 if he chose, that she did not consider any 
 possible wife of his likely to have been 
 blessed with the liberal education which 
 includes foreign travel in its scope. And 
 Mr. Antony understood, but he only re- 
 plied, with great calmness, 
 
 ' Mrs. Dormer has resided for many years 
 in India. You may not know, perhaps.
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 139 
 
 that Captain Dormer was in the — th. Sir 
 Merrion's regiment.' 
 
 ' I did not. But it woukl be so very 
 long before Merrion's time that I should 
 not be likely to have heard the name.' 
 
 That was another fling, not at Mrs. 
 Dormer's education, but at her middle- 
 agedness. The leopard was getting into a 
 charming state of irritation ; but there 
 were the bars, and there was the keeper, 
 and there was the ke}-. 
 
 Mr. Antony strolled back to the hearth- 
 rug, glanced sHghtly at Miss Pentwistle, to 
 whom he said, ' I beg your pardon,' and 
 then, taking some papers out of his 
 pocket, turned to Lady Lowater and 
 remarked, 
 
 ' You will be glad to know how well 
 those telegraph shares are paying just now. 
 I have been thinkino- that for further sums 
 at present unappropriated '
 
 140 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle was a person of discern- 
 ment, where the duties of her own position 
 were concerned. Upon seeing the papers 
 she rose, quietly laid aside her little bit of 
 fancy-work, and began to look for some- 
 thing amongst her odds and ends of 
 silk. 
 
 ' I have forgotten my rose-colour. I 
 must have left it in the morning-room.' 
 
 For she knew that Mr. Antony objected, 
 even if Lady Lowater did not, to the 
 presence of a third party when business 
 matters were being discussed. He had 
 made her feel that once or twice very 
 unmistakably. And with a sense of dis- 
 appointment that for the present, at any 
 rate, they were to hear no more of Mrs. 
 Dormer, she left the room.
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Mr. Antony, watching Miss Pentwistle 
 down the long drawing-room, kept on 
 talking about the telegraph shares until 
 he had heard the door close behind her. 
 Then he seated himself in the chair she 
 had just left, stretched himself out at full 
 length, put his feet on the fender, and 
 looked about for a cushion on which to 
 rest his head. There was one just out of 
 reach. 
 
 * Perhaps you would like me to bring it 
 for 3'ou,' said Lady Lowater. 
 
 ^No, thank you. I will help myself 
 But I should like to tell you that it is
 
 142 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 no use being so rude to me as you have 
 been this evening. When people stand 
 in the position that you and I do to each 
 other, it is better to keep the peace. At 
 any rate, it is better for the weaker party 
 to keep it.' 
 
 Lady Lowater did not reply. She took 
 up the peacock-feather fan from the little 
 table beside her and turned it about, 
 watching its changeful green and gold. 
 Sometimes she looked steadily into the 
 hre. Sometimes she leaned back and 
 closed her eyes. But toAvards Mr. An- 
 tony she never turned. And yet she was 
 his prisoner. Bound there hand and foot, 
 she must listen to what he chose to tell her. 
 
 Now that they were alone together, a 
 certain thin film of deference fell off from 
 him. He assumed the air of a man who 
 can do what he pleases. No more was 
 said about the telegraph shares.
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 143 
 
 ' So she has picked it up from Mrs. 
 Petipase,' he began. ' What a keen scent 
 women have in these things ! They find 
 out everything.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said my lady, bitterly. ' One 
 may as well try to hide one's sins.' 
 
 ' One's sins, indeed !' and Mr. Antony 
 shrugged his shoulders. ' One can hide 
 them. At least, some people contrive to 
 do it for a tolerably long time.' 
 
 ' Xot from themselves. And not from 
 those who have the power to punish the 
 sins. You have made me feel that miser- 
 ably enough. But I offer you my con- 
 gratulations.' 
 
 'What, upon being able to make you 
 feel your sins ?' 
 
 ' Just as you please. I was thinking of 
 your approaching marriage. I suppose 
 you will vrish me to pay some attention 
 to Mrs. Antony?'
 
 144 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 'Just as you please. It will probably 
 be a matter of more importance to your- 
 self than to me how you behave to her. 
 She is, however, a lady.' 
 ' Poor thing, then !' 
 
 Mr. Antony only stretched himself out 
 a little more easily. 
 
 'Yes, you have often given me to under- 
 stand that I am no gentleman ; but I 
 always admired good-breeding in other 
 people, and I have always determined 
 that, when I married, my mfe should be 
 a woman of family. She must better me 
 in that respect.' 
 
 ' I hope she will better you in other 
 more important ones, Mr. Antony.' 
 
 ' Thank you. As you imply, I am not 
 perfect. At the same time, it is scarcely 
 yourself who should say so.' 
 
 Lady Lowater just turned in the direc- 
 tion of Mr. Antony, but she did not so
 
 LADY LO water's COISrPAXIOX. 145 
 
 much as lift her eyelids. What she had 
 to express was told in a slight curl of the 
 fine upper lip. And then slowly she 
 turned her head away again. 
 
 'Well, madam,' said Mr. Antony, losing 
 his own temper at last, ' I think we have 
 had enough of this. I came to tell you 
 that I have heard of Theodore, and he is 
 not dead. What have you to say to 
 that ?' 
 
 ' Xothing at all, Mr. Antony.' 
 
 He looked at her for awhile in silence. 
 
 ' You women are curious creatures. 
 One never knows where to find you. Well, 
 instead of being dead, Theodore is pros- 
 pering in San Francisco, and he sends me 
 word he is about to be married.' 
 
 'Really.' This was said with perfect 
 calmness. 
 
 'He says it is the first time he has 
 known what it is to be fascinated by a 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 woman since — since five-and-twenty years 
 ago; 
 
 Mr. Antony fixed his eyes upon as much 
 as Lady Lowater would let him see of her 
 face. She swept the peacock's feathers to 
 and fro upon her fingers, saying, quietly, 
 
 ' I wish it was the first time he had ever 
 been fascinated at all.' 
 
 'I daresay you do, now. But things 
 that have been done cannot be undone. 
 However, I have no wish to injure 
 you.' 
 
 ' Thank you. You have told me that 
 before.' 
 
 ^Yes, but the time may come when I 
 shall give over telling you it, if you be- 
 have to me in that cool, contemptuous 
 way. It is not quite the thing to do for a 
 woman in your position.' 
 
 Lady Lowater now turned and looked 
 him full in the face.
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 147 
 
 'Mr. Antony, the soul that sinneth it 
 shall die. I have been findino; that out for 
 the last five-and-twenty years. Is not 
 that enough for you ? Perhaps there are 
 some souls that sin and die and never 
 know anything about it. Whether theirs 
 is a better case than mine, I cannot tell. 
 This I do know, that nothing you can tell 
 me now, can put a blacker blackness into 
 my life.' 
 
 ' What, not if I tell your brave boy 
 Merrion all that I know ?' 
 
 A cramp of terror passed through the 
 icy contempt of Lady Lowater's face, and 
 she said, with a half tone of pleading in her 
 voice, 
 
 ' You could not do that. No, you could 
 not do that. Merrion is all I have in the 
 whole world to love me now.' 
 
 And she shut her eyes over the tears, 
 just a moment, no more. For this man to 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 see that his thrusts could reach her heart, 
 was ahnost the worst of alL Mr. Anton}^ 
 2:ave himself another stretch. 
 
 ' I could do anything that I liked, but 
 that does not imply that I mean to do it. 
 Those haughty Abington people have not 
 been so particularly pleasant to me that I 
 should put the estate into their hands, for 
 the sake of revenging myself upon you. 
 I have no wish to damage either Merrion 
 or yourself. Only as he is coming home 
 so soon, you may as well give him a cau- 
 tion. If he does not mend his manners to 
 me this time, I shall have some difficulty 
 to keep from telling him who and what he 
 
 is. 
 
 ' I have always told him to pay proper 
 respect to you, Mr. Antony.' 
 
 ' Proper respect, indeed ! What sort of 
 respect do you call it when a young fellow 
 puts you on the same level as his bailiff? —
 
 LADY LOAYATEr's COMPANION. 149 
 
 eitlier tries not to see you in the street at 
 all, or passes you with such a nod as he 
 would sfive to a confidential servant. I 
 suppose by-and-by when he brings home a 
 wife, I shall be told to keep myself at a 
 respectful distance. A respectful distance 
 from my own nephew, ha ! ha ! very fine 
 indeed ! Merrion has not a particle of the 
 LoAvater blood in his veins, but he has 
 considerably more than his share of the 
 Lowater pride. And he very strongly 
 tempts me sometimes to pull it down for 
 him.' 
 
 ' I will speak to him, Mr. Antony, when 
 he comes home. I assure you that, as far 
 as I can prevent it, there shall be nothing 
 ofi*ensive in his • conduct to you. Only 
 have pity upon him — and upon me.' 
 
 ' Yes, it's all very well to talk about 
 having pity. You first of all flout a man 
 for not being independent, and then, when
 
 150 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 he does assert himself, you go into hyster- 
 ics about that too. So long as Merrion 
 treats me like a gentleman, he is safe. 
 When he begins to be insolent, let him 
 look out. And I understand you will call 
 upon Mrs. Antony.' 
 
 ' I intend to call upon her.' 
 
 ' And if you think that I am going to 
 make her acquainted with anything that 
 may be dangerous to your own position 
 here, you are quite mistaken. I am not 
 one of those simpletons who go and tell 
 their wives everything. I keep my own 
 affairs to myself, and I shall keep yours 
 and Merrion's too, so long as proper con- 
 sideration is shown to me. But if you 
 get on to your scornful tack, especially in 
 the presence of other people, you must 
 take the consequences. A man can bear 
 a good many things, but when it comes to 
 being scoffed at and flouted, why, then he 
 had better show his power.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 151 
 
 Lady Lowater looked wearily towards 
 the door. If only Miss Pentwistle would 
 come back. Mr. Antony did not under- 
 stand. To do him credit, he was ignorant 
 of the sufFerino^ he was inflictino-. His 
 only idea of humiliation was that which 
 affected one's position in society. To do 
 wrong, so long as people did not find it 
 out, was a trifle. As for the self-respect 
 whose loss is the sorest calamity which 
 can come upon a human soul, he knew 
 nothing of it, and was content in his ignor- 
 ance. To get on in life and be well 
 thought of was what he had set before 
 himself. 
 
 ' The room is rather chill,' he said, ' but 
 it isn't because Miss Pentwistle has left 
 the door open. Somehow, this house 
 never does seem to get properly warmed 
 through. It is arranged, then, that you 
 caU upon Mrs. Antony. As I said before, 
 she is quite a lady.'
 
 152 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 
 
 This time Lady Lowater did not allow 
 herself to be bitter. Instead, she was 
 silent. 
 
 ' Quite a lady,' he continued. ' I assured 
 myself of that before I committed myself 
 to any final arrangements. My chief 
 object in marrying at all, is to secure that 
 position which a man can only attain when 
 a lady of birth and breeding is at the head 
 of his establishment. Mrs. Dormer is, as 
 I daresay Miss Pentwistle has found out 
 from Mrs. Petipase, the Avidow of an officer 
 in the army.' 
 
 ' Yes, I think Miss Pentwistle told me 
 as much as that. At the same time, I 
 shall not call upon her for any reason but 
 that you have married her, and that you 
 wish me to get her introduced into the 
 upper-class society about here.' 
 
 ' Very well. If you choose to put it in 
 that way, I have no objection. And I
 
 L.u)Y lowater's companion. 153 
 
 wish you to understand that, so long as I 
 am iDehaved to by yourself and Merrion 
 with courtesy, I shall not say anything 
 that would in any way affect your position. 
 And, as I was saying to you before, as 
 regards that small amount of unappropri- 
 ated capital ' 
 
 For at this moment Miss Pentwistle, 
 thinkino' that time enouo;h had been given 
 for the business interview, made her ap- 
 pearance, after a little preliminary rustHng 
 and fido-ettino; at the door. 
 
 ' As reo^ards that small amount of un- 
 appropriated capital, there could be no 
 more ehodble investment for it than those 
 telegi^aph shares which, as my London 
 agent tells me, are rising so steadily in the 
 market. So we may consider everything 
 as satisfactorily settled.' 
 
 ' I hope so.' 
 
 Her ladyship said it very quietly. And
 
 154 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 as Miss Pentwistle returned to the chair 
 which Mr. Antony, as soon as he heard 
 her step at the door, had vacated for her, 
 she never so much as suspected that any- 
 thing touching the mistress of Lowater 
 Court more nearly than the yearly gain or 
 loss of a few pounds had been discussed 
 that eveninof.
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Just one montli later, the Byhoroiigh 
 Chronicle informed its readers that Mr. 
 Antony, of the Ehns, was married to Bet- 
 tina, widow of Captain Dormer of the 
 — th. And, after a further interval of six 
 weeks, the newly-married couple made 
 their appearance at the parish church of 
 Lowater. 
 
 Lady Lowater always sat with her back 
 to the congregation, and, as Ben Dyson 
 often remarked to his daughter Margaret, 
 sat as still as any of the stone statues in 
 the chancel. Let a careless Sunday scholar 
 drop his prayer-book, or a sleepy one tum- 
 ble off the bench with a thump loud
 
 156 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 enougli to waken the seven sleepers, or a 
 gust of wind bang the casement windows 
 down the north aisle, or Mr. Guaritch's 
 resonant bass strike upon a wrong note 
 and put the whole choir out of tune, my 
 lady never took the least notice. It was 
 her duty to go to church, and sit still ; 
 and she went to church, and sat still, 
 nobody stiller, and there was an end. 
 
 So none of the stone Lowaters in the 
 chancel were quieter than was the flesh 
 and blood one in the chantry pew, when 
 a waft of subtle perfume, and a rustle of 
 raiment, and a general turning of feminine 
 heads, proclaimed the arrival of the bridal 
 party from the Elms. But Miss Pent- 
 wistle sat where she could see everything, 
 the solicitor's pew best of all ; and not 
 a thread of Mrs. Antony's wedding raiment, 
 or a touch of Mrs. Antony's wedding 
 behaviour escaped her notice.
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 157 
 
 Those were tlie days when newly-mar- 
 ried people came to church according to 
 their position. Orange blossoms and white 
 satin ribbons had indeed disappeared into 
 the free seats, where brides of the working 
 classes exhibited themselves in such array, 
 but a certain deference to custom in the 
 matter of paler shades than usual, and 
 a veil not raised during service, and a 
 general manifestation of downcast con- 
 sciousness, was expected from even the 
 upper classes ; and, as a rule, was paid. 
 Accordingly, though the time was only 
 towards the end of April, and people had 
 scarcely cast their ^^inter garments, Mrs. 
 Antony made her appearance as a mid- 
 dle-aged bride, in lavender silk, and a 
 bonnet to match, becomingly clouded over 
 ^Yith. tulle. And Mr. Antony carried upon 
 his arm the dainty little ermine tippet 
 which had been dispensed with at the
 
 158 LADY lowater's companiox. 
 
 cliurcli-cloor, etiquette requiring that, 
 under sucli circumstances, no outward 
 wraps should mar the general effect of 
 the toilette. Indeed, as a rule, newly- 
 married people of a less exalted position 
 came to church in a fly, in order that 
 nothino' mio:ht <>:et out of order on the 
 road, and that they might be able to walk 
 up the aisle with no disagreeable con- 
 sciousness of bonnet-strings awry, or veils 
 on one side, or scarves out of perpen- 
 dicular. But, at the time of Mr. Antony's 
 marriage, the upper classes had begun to 
 make a point of walking to church on the 
 first Sunday of their ajDpearance, Lady 
 Belleray's daughter having set the example 
 only a year before. 
 
 * About forty-two or three, I should 
 say,' said Miss Pentwistle, as, during the 
 Sunday mid-day dinner, she gave Lady 
 Lowater the benefit of her observations.
 
 LADY LOAYATER S COMPANION. 159 
 
 ' Perhaps a touch more ; with those fair, 
 small people you can never tell exactly.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Antony is fair, then ?' said my 
 lady, glancing down to^vards the mirror 
 which was framed in the sideboard at the 
 end of the room. It told her that she 
 had been fair once, very fair ; but that 
 was long ago. To see the deep lines now, 
 and the colourless cheeks, and the mist 
 of silver-grey brooding upon the hair, and 
 the story of hopeless weariness which 
 those unlighted eyes had to tell, one could 
 scarcely have thought that youth and 
 fairness had ever belonged to the face 
 at all. Mrs. Antony most likely had 
 pleasanter memories to support her good 
 looks upon. 
 
 ' Fair, did you say, and small?' 
 ' Yes. Not particularly small, but just 
 a little under-sized, enough to make her 
 match Mr. Antony nicely. I do so dishke
 
 160 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 to see a tall man towing along a great, 
 strapping woman. And slie has very 
 pretty, fluffy hair, and tolerably good 
 features, not exactly what I should call 
 distinguished-looking ; but then, one does 
 not always find an aristocratic contour, 
 even amongst quite the upper classes.' 
 
 ' I suppose you Avould say she is pretty, 
 then, rather than handsome ?' 
 
 ' Yes, that is just what I should say. 
 But as for her dress, it was simply perfect.' 
 
 'That is interesting,' said her ladyship, 
 with another weary look into the mirror. 
 ' Now, Miss Pentwistle, let us have your 
 description of a perfect toilette.' 
 
 'Well.' And Miss Pentwistle's face 
 began to assume an expression of internal 
 recollectedness, as when she was setting 
 forth the heads of an interesting sermon, 
 not one of Mr. Rock's. 'The very love- 
 liest shade of lavender cashmere. Oh !
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANIOX. 161 
 
 Lady Lowater, it ivas a pity you did not 
 so much as turn round to look at it, 
 trimmed with little frillino;s and flutino^s 
 of satin the same colour ; made with tio^ht 
 sleeves, and a puff at the top — you see, 
 being slight, she can carry off a puff well ; 
 the bodice round, with a band and buckle ; 
 a soft white China crape shawl draped 
 prettily about her shoulders — quite a little 
 one, you know, really not much more than 
 a kerchief — fastened on one side with easy 
 negligence, instead of being drawn down 
 into tight lines ; no expensive lace about 
 her, I took particular notice of that, but 
 any quantity of tulle frilling about her 
 neck and wrists ; gloves exactly the same 
 shade as the dress, with two buttons.' 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle ! What a memory ! 
 And there is all the bonnet to come yet.' 
 
 ^ The bonnet was lovely, perfectly lovely, 
 dear Lady Lo water,' said Miss Pentwistle, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 too much interested in her subject to note 
 this passing tribute to her powers of recol- 
 lection. ' French felt to match the dress, 
 bound with satin, and marabout tips on 
 one side, and rather a deep curtain, and a 
 bit of white lilac in the border ; no orange- 
 blossom, of course, being a second mar- 
 riage. And a delicate tulle veil, hem- 
 stitched with floss silk. I do assure you 
 nothino; could have been more becoming 
 and at the same time simple.' 
 
 ' Then I am to understand that you 
 have fallen in love mth Mrs. Antony.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no, nothing of the sort. In- 
 deed, I can see quite plainly that she is 
 just the woman to make a man marry her, 
 whether he will or not ; most beguiling and 
 persuasive in her manners.' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Pent"wistle, how could 
 you find out anything about that in 
 church ?'
 
 LADY LOWATEr's CO:\rPAXION. 163 
 
 'Quite well. I could tell it from the 
 way she took her books from Mr. Antony, 
 when he had found the places for her, and 
 how she edged Miss Dormer a little way 
 to one side, when she wanted to get out 
 of the sun. All elegance and softness, 
 and, you may depend upon it, will never 
 sit on the draughty side of a room when 
 there is anyone else to occupy the place. 
 And she waited for her husband to pick up 
 everything that she dropped. Indeed, I 
 believe she let things fall on purpose, for 
 they seemed to be always going. A wo- 
 man that means to live up to her privi- 
 leges in every respect. Oh ! no, thank 
 you. I shall not fall in love with her. 
 At the same time, I consider her a most 
 fascinating person.' 
 
 ' You will fall in love with her, then, if 
 she makes up her mind that you shall do 
 so.' 
 
 M 2
 
 164 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 ^ I miglit, perhaps, if she were not Mr. 
 Antony's mfe,' said Miss Pentwistle, with 
 a far-oiF — a very far-off — reminder of co- 
 quettishness ; just a hint of the charming 
 constancy which retains, for every man 
 who has made it an offer, enough prefer- 
 ence to he vexed when he marries some 
 one else. 
 
 Lady Lowater coukl not help smihng. 
 The whole thing sat so badly upon the 
 precise, mathematical woman of well over 
 forty, ^^ith her equi-distant ringlets and 
 her severity of hue and angle and perpen- 
 dicular. But Miss Pentwistle would never 
 forget that she might once upon a time, 
 according to common parlance, have ' had ' 
 Mr. Antony. 
 
 ' Oh ! Miss Pentwistle, you will soon 
 foro-ive her for marryino- him. I would 
 make him welcome to any woman who 
 will tyrannise over him as this soft, per-
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 165 
 
 suasive little wife seems likely to do. 
 But, if she has no good lace, I don't feel a 
 bit interested in her. ^^'^ly did Mr. An- 
 tony tell us she was a woman of family ? 
 I expected Venetian point at the very 
 least. And on the first Sunday of her ap- 
 pearance at church, too. You say it was 
 nothing' but tulle. Does he suppose we 
 are going to accept a distinguished pedi- 
 gree on the foundation of tulle frilling ? 
 Xo, no. I may perhaps stretch a point 
 and give up the old Venetian, but if she 
 has aristocratic blood in her veins we must 
 have Mechhn. Are you sure, Miss Pent- 
 wistle, that she had not a bit of Mechlin 
 about her, somewhere or other T 
 
 'Not a vestige,' gravely replied Miss 
 Pentwistle, who did not easily take-in a 
 joke, and for whom old lace or old family 
 butlers, or indeed anything that indicated 
 ancient descent, was as sacred as a point
 
 166 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 of doctrine. ^ I assure you it was nothing 
 but tulle. But tlien, you see, it was al- 
 most obliged to 'be that, to match the veil. 
 Mrs. Antony is evidently a woman who 
 understands dress thoroughly. She knows 
 it would not do to put lace in one place 
 and tulle in another.' 
 
 ' No, Miss Pentwistle, especially when 
 providence has settled the matter for her 
 by disposing of the lace in another 
 direction. I am inclined to think that 
 her pedigree only dates back to the days 
 of tulle.' 
 
 ' The days of Thule ?' asked Miss Pent- 
 wistle, mth a serious air. ^ Who was he ? 
 I never heard of him. Was he a Scottish 
 king ?' 
 
 Lady Lowater only laughed. 
 
 'No. I think they manufacture him 
 somcAvhere in France, but I am not sure. 
 At any rate, people who depend upon him
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 167 
 
 for their respectability have not much to 
 boast of.' 
 
 'AYell, then, my dear Lady Lowater, she 
 cannot be descended from him, because 
 you know Mr. Antony said she was of 
 superior birth.' 
 
 ' And would you not call anyone of 
 superior birth, Miss Pentwistle, who was 
 descended from a king, even if he was only 
 the king of Tulle.' 
 
 ' Well, yes. Royal blood is a great 
 thing. Perhaps we might become intim- 
 ate enough with, her some day to ask her 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Speak for yourself about the intimacy,' 
 said Lady Lowater, ^\ith a sort of careless 
 pride in her tone. ' I don't feel that 
 it is a matter which concerns me. You 
 had better take it for granted that Mr. 
 Antony could marry none but a lady of 
 royal descent. I propose we go into
 
 168 LADY lowater's compaxion. 
 
 the drawing-room and discuss the subject 
 there. 
 
 ' Certainly/ said Miss Pentwistle. ' I 
 do feel very much interested in it.' 
 
 And they went.
 
 169 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' XoAV, my clear Lady Lo^vater,' she said, 
 when they were comfortably seated by the 
 lire, ' do not go to sleep till I have told 
 you a little more. You know we do not 
 ^have a wedding-party every Sunday. You 
 said 3'ou should expect me to take notice 
 of everything for you, and what is the use 
 of doing so if you do not care to hear 
 about it.' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Pentwistle, I never said 
 I did not care to hear. But I don't think 
 Argus himself with his hundred or thou- 
 sand eyes, or however many he has, could 
 have seen more of her dress than you have
 
 170 LADY LOWATEE's COMPANION. 
 
 described, and we have already come to the 
 conclusion that she is descended from that 
 French or Scottish monarch, and what 
 more is there to talk about ?' 
 
 ' A great deal. My own mind is not 
 clear about the pedigree being so dis- 
 tinguished as you seem to think, though 
 at the same time she is no doubt quite a 
 lady. Mrs. Petipase knows some one who 
 visits at Hurchester, where she comes from, 
 and this some one happened to call once, 
 the lady whom she visits knoAving Mrs. 
 Antony when she was Mrs. Dormer. And 
 she says everything was in the most simple 
 style, but still, you know, quite proper. 
 Captain Dormer seems to have left her not 
 very well provided for, but she is one of 
 those women who will keep up her position 
 whatever else she has to drop.' 
 
 'I see. It does not sHp out of her 
 fingers so easily as the fans and pocket-
 
 LADY LOWATErwS COZMPAXIOX. 171 
 
 handkerchiefs and things that keep going 
 down in church. Well — I like a woman 
 to remember what she once was, even if 
 it has to be nothing hut remembrance.' 
 
 ' So do I. Mrs. Petipase's friend said 
 she believed Mrs. Dormer would rather 
 live on bread-and-cheese for a week than 
 open the front door herself if anyone 
 called, or be seen carrying a brown paper 
 parcel in the street. Xow I admire that 
 spirit.' 
 
 ' I don't. I thought you were going to 
 say she remembered in quite a different 
 way. I can't understand how it affects a 
 lady's position for her to be seen carrying 
 a brown paper parcel.' 
 
 ' I daresay not, because it would not 
 affect yours at all. Why, you might carry 
 your own tea-kettle to the blacksmith's to 
 be mended, and, if anybody happened to 
 see you, they would only say it was your
 
 172 LADY LO WATER S COMPANION. 
 
 ladyship's eccentricity. But, if I were to 
 do such a thing, they would say it was 
 my poverty, and I would much rather be 
 thought eccentric than poor.' 
 
 ' Well, whoever I was, and wherever I 
 happened to be, I would carry my own 
 tea-kettle to the blacksmith's if I had a 
 mind to do so, and people might say what 
 they liked about it. That is my way of 
 thinking, Miss Pentwistle.' 
 
 ' That is because you do not know what 
 it is to be anybody else but what you are. 
 You are Lady Lowater, and you can do 
 what you like. Everybody knows all 
 about you.' 
 
 Her ladyship smiled a very weary smile. 
 The ignorance of people was a great bless- 
 ing. One must be thankful for it, as well 
 as for the knowledge which, stopping 
 where it did, allowed her to carry her 
 own tea-kettle, if she were so minded.
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 173 
 
 ' AYell,' she said, ' I was always told 
 when I was a child that poverty was no 
 disgrace.' 
 
 ' Xo disgrace, but one of the worst 
 things a woman can own to, if she wishes 
 to keep up a position. However, j\fa. 
 Dormer will not have to beat her six- 
 pences out to the size of half-crowns, now 
 that she is Mrs. Antony. It is the daugh- 
 ter who will have to do that. She is as 
 different as can be from her mother. One 
 would never think that they belonged to 
 each other.' 
 
 'Was Miss Dormer at church, too?' 
 
 ' Lady Lowater, to think of your never 
 seeing so much as that !' 
 
 ' Why should I look, when you see 
 enough for us both? And I never turn 
 round to look at people. That shows 
 worse breeding than poverty. Now, of 
 course, where you sit, you cannot look at
 
 174 LADY LO\YATER's COMPANION. 
 
 anything but the people. What about 
 Miss Dormer, then ? Is she going to live 
 at the Elms, too ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, no. Mr. Antony told me 
 that himself. I met him yesterday, as I 
 was going through the village, and, you 
 know, when a man is really married, you 
 can ask him questions more comfortably. 
 He says she has just come for a month or 
 so, to help her mamma to receive callers, 
 and then she is o-oino; back to Hurchester, 
 where she intends to live.' 
 
 'Oh! then she has an independence?' 
 ' No, nothing of the sort. Mrs. Peti- 
 pase told me that. She earns her living, 
 you know, as a trained nurse. She used 
 to live with her mother, and go to the 
 hospital every day ; but now she is to be 
 one of the regular staff of indoor nurses. 
 Mr. Antony says he did propose her stay- 
 ing with them for an indefinite time, but
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPA>s'ION. 175 
 
 she preferred being somewhere on her own 
 account.' 
 
 'And very rightly too. I admire her 
 for it. And now tell me what she is like 
 — I don't mean as regards dress, but 
 herself 
 
 ' Well, really, Lady Lowater, herself is 
 all that there is to say anything about. I 
 could not describe her dress, except that 
 it was something dark, which seemed to 
 bring out the elegance of the other. She 
 is perhaps as good-looking as her mother, 
 only in a diiferent way — good, clear com- 
 plexion, brown eyes, neat, straight brown 
 hair, but not a bit of grace nor persuasive- 
 ness about her ; goes right in at the pew- 
 door, and right out again, you know, 
 mthout any sort of undulation or swaying 
 about, just a little too straightforward.' 
 
 ' I understand. Does not look as if she 
 was perpetually walking through a quad-
 
 176 LADY lowater's companiox. 
 
 rille. Mrs. Antony does, I suppose. Well, 
 I rather like people to walk as if tliey were 
 o'oing somewhere, especially in church.' 
 
 'Lady Lowater, you are laughing at me, 
 but you know perfectly well what I mean. 
 There is a sort of ease and grace in mov- 
 ing about, which is especially becoming in 
 a woman, and Mrs. Antony has it to per- 
 fection. Just a sway which never catches 
 itself on corners, nor runs up against any- 
 thing. Now if Miss Dormer had not 
 measured the size of the pew doorway, 
 she must have cauo'ht somewhere, she 
 went so straio'ht throuo-h.' 
 
 ' I don't like her any the worse for that, es- 
 pecially as you say she went into an un- 
 comfortable seat in order that her mother 
 might have a comfortable one. I think it 
 was Mr. Antony who ought to have done 
 that. And it is quite decided that she is 
 not to live at the Elms.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 177 
 
 ^ Quite. One could hardly expect a 
 gentleman to marry both ladies.' 
 
 ^ Certainly not, Miss Pentwistle, I am 
 surprised at your suggesting such a thing. 
 A lady of your well-known propriety.' 
 
 ' Well, then, making a home for both. 
 That was what I meant. I almost think 
 if I had been Miss Dormer, I Avould not 
 have come at all, under the circumstances. 
 It looks as if she were coming to see what 
 sort of a home it is, before she decides 
 whether to stay or not.' 
 
 " I thought you said it was decided that 
 she should not stay. Mr. Antony told 
 you so himself.' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, yes, so he did. Well, then, 
 it looks like that, but it cannot be that. 
 We shall see how thinors turn out. I know 
 if I were Miss Dormer, I would much 
 rather live at a pretty place like the Elms, 
 and make myself generally useful, than 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 LADY lowater's companiox. 
 
 slave away at tlie Hurchester hospital un- 
 der a lady superintendent. But she is 
 evidently a girl not cut out for society. 
 One can see that from her manner.' 
 
 'Too straightforward, I suppose. Not 
 enough deportment.' 
 
 ' You have expressed it exactly, Lady 
 Lowater. Not enough deportment.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I have made up my mind 
 to like her. I almost 'wish I had turned 
 round in church. To see a girl without 
 anything that deserves the name of de- 
 portment, would be so refreshing. One 
 gets tired of always seeing people walk 
 through quadrilles. Have you heard her 
 name ?' 
 
 ' Yes. A rather uncommon one. Val- 
 ence.' 
 
 ' Valence. It is rather pretty, only it 
 reminds one too much of window draper- 
 ies, and those things that go round the
 
 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 179 
 
 tops of beds. And Valenciennes lace too. 
 I suppose slie did not wear any, to supple- 
 ment her motlier's deficiencies.' 
 
 ' Oil ! dear no. Miss Dormer is a per- 
 son you could scarcely tliink of in con- 
 nection with such a thing as lace. No- 
 thing but linen, linen collar, linen cuffs ; 
 where her mother had heaps of ruffles and 
 frillings, she had nothing but a plain ])and, 
 and where Mrs. Antony was tousled and 
 waved and curled, her daughter was just 
 smoothed back and twisted round in a 
 knot. I should think where it takes one 
 three-quarters-of-an-hour to dress, it takes 
 the other about five minutes.' 
 
 'Then I think I shall Hke the other 
 best; 
 
 Then there was a pause. Miss Pent- 
 wistle thought Lady Lo water was going to 
 sleep, but after a little silence she roused 
 up. 
 
 N 2
 
 180 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 ' Curious, that Merriou should have 
 come across this girl at Hurchester. I 
 wonder will he remember when I tell him 
 about it.' 
 
 ' Of course. A man does not forget a 
 sprained ankle and a flesh rent which keeps^ 
 him in hospital for a week. I have heard 
 him speak of it myself, over and over 
 again. It was just at the time of the 
 athletic sports, and that vexed him so.' 
 
 ' Yes, but I don't mean the accident. 1 
 mean will he remember Miss Dormer.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that is a different thing alto- 
 gether,' said Miss Pentwistle, with a new 
 expression upon her face. 
 
 And then there was another pause, and 
 Lady Lowater leaned back. Surely she 
 was going to sleep this time. 
 
 Perhaj^s she might be. She sat there with 
 her eyes shut for at least a quarter of an 
 hour. And then she said.
 
 LADY LO water's C0]MPANI0X. 181 
 
 ^ Did not some one say Captain Dormer 
 was in the — tli ?' 
 
 ' I believe so,' said Miss Pent wis tie, this 
 time with just a touch of iU-temper. 
 
 ' Merrion's regiment. Things do get 
 jumbled together curiously. But, as I 
 said, that must be a long time ago — many 
 years.' 
 
 And then she added, 
 
 ' Mr. Antony seems to think that Mer- 
 rion will be sure to look for a wife when 
 he comes home.'
 
 182 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle was a righteous woman^ 
 and prided herself upon doing her duty 
 according to the directions of the cate- 
 chism. She taught that catechism every 
 Sunday in her class for an hour, before 
 morning service ; and she could hear the 
 whole of it, from beginning to end, with- 
 out feeling that one point of its fine, clear, 
 wholesome moral precept penetrated any 
 of the points of her armour. She honestly 
 l)elieved that she loved her neighbour as 
 herself. She also believed that her duty 
 to that neighbour was duly practised, and, 
 in support of that belief, she could point to 
 the fact that during the fifteen years or
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 183 
 
 more that she had been under Lady Lo- 
 water's roof, she had never so much as 
 picked up a pin. or taken a lump of sugar 
 that did not belong to her, without duly 
 notifying the fact to the mistress of the 
 house. Therefore if she could not speak 
 about keeping one's hands from picking 
 and steaHno'. who could ? As for Ivino- 
 and e^-il speaking, none could accuse her 
 of either. She never said anything which 
 she did not believe to be true. Of course, 
 if a thing was true it ought to be spoken, 
 and she spoke it accordingly. Then as 
 for learning and labouring truly to earn 
 her own living in that state of life to which 
 Providence had called her, she had done 
 it, and with the respect of her employers, 
 too, ever since, lea\dng school at the age 
 of sixteen, she had gone into a clergyman's 
 family as nursery-governess on twelve 
 pounds a year.
 
 184 LADY LO water's COMPxVNIOX. 
 
 If anybody could teacli tlie Churcli 
 Catechism tliat person was herself, and she 
 felt comfortable accordingly. 
 
 And yet, with those last words spoken 
 l)y Lady Lowater, there fell just the small- 
 est drop of acid into the double-distilled 
 purity of her motives. She sat there 
 thinking, thinking. And her thoughts 
 were not thoughts of peace. 
 
 Sir Merrion Lowater niiofht come home 
 now almost at any time. Miss Dormer 
 was staying with her mother at the Elms, 
 Avithin a quarter of an hour's walk of 
 Lowater Court. She and Sir Merrion had 
 met not so very long ago, under circum- 
 stances which place a girl in the most 
 attractive light. He had been brought 
 into her ward at the hospital A\dth a smash- 
 ed ankle which kept him there for a week, 
 before he could be safely removed to the 
 barracks. That was a better way for two
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPAXIOX. 18o 
 
 young people to become acquainted than 
 meeting at any number of balls, picnics, 
 ov private theatricals. He was evidently 
 impressed by her, by the way in which 
 he had mentioned her skill and kindness. 
 She herself, also, had most unwittingh' 
 happened to describe Miss Dormer in a 
 manner which had awakened Lady Lo- 
 water's interest. Xo words of hers could 
 now alter that first impression. She read 
 the yet unspoken thought in the mother's 
 heart. The names of Valence Dormer and 
 Sir Merrion had oiided too;ether there. 
 
 Could it be possible ? Could the proud 
 Lady Lowater indeed desire such a match 
 for her only child? Valence Dormer, the 
 hospital nurse, the l)rown-eyed, independ- 
 ent-looking, straightforward young girl, 
 who had never in all her life known what 
 luxury was, whose dress told of stinted 
 means, whose bearing and manner had
 
 186 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 
 
 that practical, unadorned common-sense 
 which only comes of necessary daily work, 
 was she to be the future Lady Lowater, 
 while others, who had for years gone on 
 in their quiet, patient round of service, 
 were left in an entirely subordinate posi- 
 tion ? It was too much. One might 
 believe the catechism as faithfully as 
 CA'cr, and not be able to sit down meekly 
 under such a condition of things. 
 
 Then, if Sir IMerrion married, and his 
 mother remained at the Court, as she 
 had said he wished her to remain, would 
 she need a companion any longer ? 
 Especially if the new mfe l^ecame a fa- 
 vourite. That threw another light, or 
 rather shadow, upon the matter. One 
 could not always command a hundred a 
 year, together with such absolute free- 
 dom as Lady Lowater's companion en- 
 joyed. Contrasted with the position of
 
 LADY lowater's companiox. 187 
 
 Sir Merrion's wife — a j^osition which Miss 
 Pentwistle beheld in imagination occupied 
 by Valence Dormer — the companionship 
 was a very poor thing, a very poor thing 
 indeed. But, contrasted with most other 
 situations which a not very highly-edu- 
 cated woman could hope for, it showed 
 with great advantage ; in fact, it was 
 not likely to be bettered. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle, sitting there by the 
 dra^^dng-room fire that Sunday afternoon. 
 thinkino^ such thouo-hts as these, was 
 naturally anxious to know what Lad}- 
 Lowater would say next. The last two 
 remarks she had made, coming as they 
 did after intervals of thoughtful silence, 
 had been very suggestive. She was evi- 
 dently quite serious in what she said. 
 Miss Pentwistle knew as well as could 
 be the difference between Lady Lowater's 
 l)itter, sneering, satirical manner when
 
 188 LADY L(3 water's COMPANION. 
 
 she had a bilious attack, or an attack 
 of some other kind, and her quiet way 
 of discussing possibilities when she was 
 in a pleasant mood, at least, an earnest 
 mood. She was earnest now. Such being 
 the case, much depended upon her next 
 remark. 
 
 It was not such as to remove the Aveight 
 which lay upon Miss Pentwistle's mind. 
 Lady Lowater opened her eyes. They 
 were full, not of slumber, but of wakeful 
 purpose ; and she said, 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle, I have made up my 
 mind to call upon Mrs. Antony.' 
 
 The very last thing in the world she 
 ought to have made up her mind to do. 
 But one must not oppose it too violently. 
 
 'My dear Lady Lowater, hoAv kind of 
 you ! I am sure Mrs. Antony could not 
 expect anything of the sort. She would 
 have great reason to feel herself fortunate,
 
 LADY LOWATEPv's COMPAXIOX. 189 
 
 if YOU allo^'ecl me to take your card and a 
 courteous message ; but to call in person !' 
 'Oh, no, I shall take it myself. I 
 promised — at least, as I said before, I 
 haYC made up my mind. If I pay her 
 a little attention, the rest of the people 
 a1)out here will do the same.' 
 
 Miss PentT\dstle thought she under- 
 stood. Getting the family into a good 
 position before Sir Merrion inarried into 
 it. If her ladyship made up her mind 
 to a thing, she would carr}' it through. 
 
 ' T\"ell, I can ouIy saY you are YerY kind. 
 I am sure she could not expect anything 
 of the sort from you.' 
 
 Lady Lowater's lip curled slightly. 
 'It is not a matter of expecting. I 
 don't suppose for a moment Mr. Antony 
 would exaofo-erate matters so far as to ^ixe 
 her to understand that the county people 
 would call upon his ^^'ife.'
 
 190 LADY LOWATER S COINIPANION. 
 
 That was better. ^liss Pentwistle cauglit 
 that up eagerly. It was only going to be 
 condescension, then. 
 
 ' Of course not. If she is received kindly 
 by the middle-class families, it is all she 
 can look for. She will no doubt be very 
 proud to have your card lying upon the 
 top of the rest, but it Avould be folly to 
 think of anything more.' 
 
 ' As to that Miss Pentwistle, it may be 
 as it likes. I shall call in person, and, 
 having called, I shall invite her to the 
 house. Then I shall have done my duty.' 
 
 ' And a very great deal more than your 
 duty, my dear Lady Lowater, in my hum- 
 ble opinion. For anything you know, she 
 may be a person who will presume upon 
 that sort of thing. There are women who, 
 if once they get a footing, will never let 
 you shake them off again. Now it strikes 
 me '
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANIOX. 191 
 
 •Xever niind. I shall call upon Mrs. 
 Antony some day this week/ 
 
 And, when Lady Lowater said a thing in 
 that way, it had to be left.
 
 192 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Miss Pextwistle turned the matter over 
 again in her own mind. The more she 
 thought of it, the more unpleasant it 
 seemed. Truly this was an unquiet 
 Sunday afternoon. Then she asked a 
 question. 
 
 ' Shall you leave a card, too, for Miss 
 Dormer?' 
 
 ' Certainly. I am very glad to have it 
 in my power to pay her that attention. I 
 shall do it out of consideration for my sou. 
 I look upon him as under an obligation to 
 Miss Dormer.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Lady Lowater, now that is too
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 193 
 
 ridiculous. Why, she only did her duty. 
 You know a nurse is expected to do her 
 best for all the patients who come into her 
 ward.' 
 
 ' Yes, and in doing it she places each 
 one of them under an oblio-ation which 
 cannot easily be repaid. I don't think 
 people can ever be too thankful for the 
 care and skill which give them back to 
 their daily work. It is not money which 
 settles a matter of that kind.' 
 
 ' To my mind it would, Lady Lowater. 
 And the consciousness that I had done 
 my duty in my own proper sphere would 
 always be sufficient for me.' 
 
 Miss Pent^^istle said this ^nth dignity, 
 as from a lofty moral platform. 
 
 ' I have no doubt it is sufficient for Miss 
 Dormer too,' replied her ladyship. ' At 
 the same time, I also must have the suffi- 
 ciency of doing my duty. And you say 
 
 VOL. L
 
 194 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 there is something very frank and pleasant 
 and straightforward about her. We may 
 perhaps find that we have done well for 
 ourselves by cultivating her acquaintance, 
 even if we only look at it as a matter of 
 giving and taking.' 
 
 ' Did I say she was frank and pleasant ? 
 I am really not quite sure. There was 
 certainly a straightforwardness in her 
 manners. But then I naturally took more 
 notice of Mrs. Antony. And one must 
 not hastily pronounce a judgment upon 
 character.' 
 
 ' No, but one may upon characteristics. 
 And what you said of Miss Dormer aroused 
 my interest. I certainly do like frank, 
 unaffected people.' 
 
 Miss Pent-vvistle fidgeted a little. What 
 a pity she had said anything at all about 
 Miss Dormer ! And then she replied, 
 dubiously.
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANIOX. 195 
 
 ' Did I say frank and unaffected ? AVell, 
 I really forget. Now I come to think 
 about it, perhaps, if one wished to be com- 
 plimentary, one would speak of her man- 
 ner as frank and unaffected. And then, 
 again, if one wanted to convey a different 
 impression, one might say, with just as 
 much truth, that she was brusque and 
 awkward. You see, it all depends upon 
 the way of putting things.' 
 
 ■ Exactly. I understand. Probably a 
 oirl who would walk as straiorht throuo^h 
 any of your pet prejudices as she did 
 through the pew doorway. Well, I am 
 not quite sure that I don't like even that 
 better than the undulating gracefubiess 
 which never honestly touches anything. 
 At any rate, you thought she would be 
 pleasanter to deal with than her mother, 
 did you not ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! well, you know,' said poor Miss 
 
 o 2
 
 196 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 Pentmstle, finding the road difficult be- 
 tween her desire not to praise the young 
 lady too much and her equally strong 
 desire to preserve her own reputation for 
 discernment of character, ^ one must not 
 pronounce decidedly upon such slender 
 opportunities of observation. The mother 
 and daughter are perfect opposites ; but 
 they may be that, and yet neither exactly 
 what we could msh her to be.' 
 
 ' You are a discreet person. Miss Pent- 
 wistle. I see you ^\'ill not commit your- 
 self to an opinion. For my own part, I 
 am prepared to like this Valence Dormer 
 very much ; but we will make our call, 
 and then say more about it. You say she 
 still follows the occupation of a trained 
 nurse ?' 
 
 ' Yes — under the lady superintendent of 
 the Hurchester Hospital.' 
 
 ^ Then I shall get her to go and see
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 197 
 
 Margaret Dyson. I believe a good, in- 
 telligent nurse can be of more use to a 
 consumptive patient than the doctor him- 
 self. I am sure Miss Dormer could give 
 her many useful hints, or, at any rate, 
 she could oive them to Mrs. Shorrocks. 
 I have told Mrs. Shorrocks she is to go in 
 for a couple of hours every morning, and 
 do what she can in the cottas^e. Maro;aret 
 is not fit now for any sort of household 
 work.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Shorrocks ? Oh ! yes, the w^oman 
 who keeps house for Mr. Rock. Dear 
 Lady Lowater, how kind you are ! What 
 a boon to the poor thing !' 
 
 ' Beautifully kind,' said Lady Lowater, 
 quietly. ' As if, when a w^oman had caught 
 her death by standing on your own damp 
 stone passages, it was not your duty to 
 see that she died as comfortably as might 
 be, under the circumstances. Mr. Rock
 
 198 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 says Mrs. Shorrocks is very good-hearted, 
 and will do faithfully anything that she 
 undertakes.' 
 
 ^ I hope she vnll. And I hope she will 
 not make too much noise about it. Have 
 you heard her scold and bang when her 
 husband is at home ?' 
 
 'Yes, and I think I should scold and 
 bang, too, if I had a husband of that sort. 
 A brisk, active, industrious woman who 
 earns a living for two cannot help being 
 rather ao- OTavated with an able-bodied man 
 who does nothing from morning to night 
 but stand about and say what sort of 
 weather he thinks it is going to be.' 
 
 'At the same time. Lady Lowater, he 
 has no vices, and goes to church regu- 
 larly.' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, no, no vices, except the one 
 of not being energetic enough to earn his 
 own living, which, when you come to
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 199 
 
 think about it, is rather a serious one. 
 Mr. Rock says, if Shorrocks had married 
 a Avorse woman, he would have been a 
 better man.' 
 
 ' What a fooHsh remark, Lady Lowater ; 
 but just like Mr. Rock.' 
 
 'Not at all. It only shows that Mr. 
 Rock has noticed what is a very difficult 
 problem in human life. An idle man 
 marries an active woman, and he makes 
 her activity do for them both. Xow, if 
 he had married a woman like himself, or 
 only a little superior, he must have striven. 
 And so, having some one to crutch him 
 up on every side, he loses the little use 
 he had of his limbs, and becomes a crea- 
 ture scarcely worth despising. One sees 
 it over and over again in all sorts of ways. 
 Unselfish people marry selfish ones, and 
 the selfish one, by being given way to, 
 becomes more grasping than ever ; where-
 
 200 LADY LOWATEPv's COMPANION. 
 
 as, if she had had a husband who woukl 
 have made her give up her own will oc- 
 casionally, she might have had a chance 
 of improving herself. ' 
 
 ' You take for granted it is the wife who 
 does the selfishness. Lady Lowater, that 
 is too bad.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I just used the pronoun as it hap- 
 pened. Most likely it would be the other 
 way. And yet I am not sure. I shall be 
 rather interested, for instance, in seeing 
 how it goes with Mr. and Mrs. Antony. 
 From wdiat you say, they are more equal- 
 ly balanced than most couples.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Antony will carry the day. I dare 
 venture anything upon that,' said Miss 
 PentAvistle. ' In less than three months 
 Mr. Antony will be as meek and submis- 
 sive a husband as — oh dear, who can I say, 
 for I don't know any of them about 
 here?'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 201 
 
 ' Suppose a case then.' 
 
 ' Well, then, as ^Ir. Rock would be if he 
 were married. I cannot go further than 
 that. What a model husband that little 
 man would make, if to have some one to do 
 as one liked with was all !' 
 
 ' Xay then, Miss Pentwistle, you have 
 hit upon the very last person to suit your 
 purpose.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle looked up from the 
 little book of meditations which she always 
 carried about with her on Sundays. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say. Lady Lowater, 
 that Mr. Rock's wife will not be able to 
 knock him about as much as ever she likes, 
 iiguratively speaking, of course.' 
 
 ' I mean to say there is not a woman 
 Avithin ten miles of Lowater, whom Mr. 
 Rock would find the least difficulty in 
 crumpling up like a piece of old blotting- 
 paper ; that is to say, if he took the trouble
 
 202 LADY LOAYATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 to do it. And if you don't know how 
 hard he is, it is only because you have 
 never knocked up against him in the right 
 direction.' 
 
 'You do astonish me, Lady Lowater, 
 and I could almost say I am sure you are 
 mistaken. At any rate, I know he has not 
 pulpit power. He has never appealed to 
 me in the least during all these years that 
 I have sat under him. Now, that dear 
 Mr. Crudenay, at St. Anne's, you know, 
 of Perry Point, is a complete master of the 
 sensibilities.' 
 
 Lady Lowater laughed scornfully. 
 
 ' Yes, and that is why his mfe's eyes 
 are so red. He is always making her 
 cry.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Lady Lowater, about the inter- 
 ests of her soul?' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, no, about the interests of his 
 own stomach. Why, he sulks for a whole
 
 LADY LUWATEk's COMPANION. 203 
 
 afternoon if slie forgets to put nutmeg 
 into the minced veal, and hurls a storm of 
 ill-temper upon her if she does not have 
 lemons at any price for his boiled fowls ; 
 and she finds it safer to keep out of his 
 way for a couple of hours if there has 
 been a drop too much essence of almonds 
 in the pudding. And, being a meek, 
 quiet, gentle little woman, that sort of 
 thing tells upon her. I grant you that he 
 is indeed a master of the sensibiHties.* 
 
 ' Lady Lowater, you speak of him in 
 that way because you do not sympathise 
 with his manner of placing the truth be- 
 fore his congregation. It is irritating if a 
 man, especially a man who has to appear 
 much in public, and has a weak digestion, 
 cannot have ' 
 
 ' If a man has a A\'eak digestion, he had 
 better keep clear of nutmeg, and lemons, 
 and essence of almonds. He should live
 
 204 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 upon simple food which should profit both 
 his digestion and his temper, besides being 
 pleasanter for his wife, and more econom- 
 ical for the housekeeping. I despise a 
 man who speaks of himself as a pilgrim in 
 a vale of tears, a wayfarer through a 
 waste howling wilderness, but who must 
 have the vale of tears garnished with 
 sliced lemons at any price, and who 
 causes his own part of the wilderness to 
 rejoice Avith fancy puddings and sweets 
 Avhich have cost his wife whole mornings 
 of tribulation in the kitchen. Talk of 
 self-sacrifice, indeed !' 
 
 ' We were not talkino; of it ' said Miss 
 
 Pentwistle, ' we were talking of Mr. Cru- 
 denay's power of stirring the human heart 
 to its depths. But if he is a little particu- 
 lar about his food, you will not deny him 
 the possession of sincere devotion to his 
 duty. Always at the early services.'
 
 LADY lowater"s compaxiox. 205 
 
 ' Oh, yes, ahvays,' replied Lady Lowater, 
 who seemed to have fallen into a sarcastic 
 mood this Sundav afternoon, ' and draofs 
 the servants out of bed at untimely hours, 
 to ^qX cups of tea ready for him, that he 
 may start comfortabh'. You may call 
 that devotion if you like, but I know who 
 it is that does the devotion, ^liy, it was 
 only the other day that I saw Mrs. Cru- 
 denay, Avith a perfect virago of a head- 
 ache, toiling away amongst the people in 
 her district, and she said she had been 
 obliged to get up so early, for her husband 
 must have hot coffee before he went to the 
 seven o'clock service, and the maid-of-all- 
 work would not stand it, so the wife had 
 to ; must struggle all day ^nth pain and 
 weariness and very likely ill-temper too. 
 because it is hard to unite pretty behaviour 
 with a headache, in order that her hus- 
 band may do his devotion comfortably.
 
 206 LADY LO WATER S COMPANION. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle, what sort of religion do 
 you call that ?' 
 
 ' Do you mean Mrs. Crudenay's religion ? 
 I call it a very faulty one. She always 
 appeared to me to lack the root of the 
 matter. 
 
 'No, I don't mean Mrs. Crudenay's 
 religion. I mean her husband's. And if 
 you want roots, I think it is in him that 
 you will iind the most plentiful lack of 
 them. But oh, Miss Pentwistle, don't let 
 us talk ! We are fools, all of us. Get 
 your prayer-book and go to church. The 
 bells have been ringing this quarter of an 
 hour past.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle rose and put aside her 
 book of meditations. 
 
 ' I am so sorry for you, Lady Lowater. 
 I do wish you could see things in a differ- 
 ent light.' 
 
 ' So do I. I assure you, when there is a
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 207 
 
 different light to see them in, I shall 
 rejoice as much as anyone. At present it 
 is all one can do to be patient.' 
 
 And you A\dll not go with me to the 
 afternoon service ?' 
 
 • No, thank you. I will sit still and 
 think my ovm thoughts.' 
 
 And Lady Lowater looked away past 
 the greening elm-trees in the park to the 
 plantation, all bright in its spring beauty 
 now, the plantation Avhere the cruel 
 traps had been set. And, once caught 
 there, it was pain and misery until death.
 
 208 
 
 CHAPTER XYL 
 
 Towards the close of that same Aveek Ladv 
 Lowater ordered the carriage for a round 
 of calls. 
 
 'The basket as usual, my lady?' said 
 Simmons. 
 
 ' No, I shall not drive myself this after- 
 noon. Tell Humphreys the landau, and 
 he is to put the pair in.' 
 
 ' People of that kind always like you to 
 call u]3on them with plenty of pomp and 
 appearance,' said her ladyship to Miss 
 PentA\dstle, when Simmons had taken his 
 orders. ' Now, if it had been the Much- 
 marches or the Bellerays, the basket would
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 209 
 
 have done quite well ; but, being ]\Irs. An- 
 tony, it must be tlie landau and a pair 
 of horses and a coachman and a footman. 
 You see, ^vhen one is going to do a kind- 
 ness, one may as well do it thoroughly.' 
 
 ' I am sure it is very good of you,' said 
 Miss Pentmstle, who enjoyed going about 
 in the landau herself, especially when 
 it was a case of the pole, instead of only 
 shafts. After all there was somethino- in a 
 carriage and pair, which lifted one into a 
 higher elevation than a basket. ' You do 
 always seem to know how to do the right 
 thing at the right time. As you say, peo- 
 ple like to see a handsome equipage at 
 their gates. It is only a pity there are 
 so few houses T\ithin sight of the Elms. 
 I have no doubt Mr. Antony would like 
 the whole parish, to say nothing of By- 
 borough, to see you are calling upon his 
 wife.' 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 ' We Avill arrange that,' said Lady Lo- 
 water. 
 
 Accordingly, before going to the Elms 
 at all, she called upon four of the most 
 upper-class people of the neighbourhood, 
 each of whom she informed, in the course 
 of conversation, that she was on her way 
 to Mrs. Antony. And she also informed 
 them that she felt a certain interest in 
 that lady, from the fact of her late hus- 
 band having been, at the time of his 
 death, a captain in Sir Merrion Lowater's 
 present regiment. Finally, she ordered 
 Humphreys to drive to the newly-iitted 
 house on the Byborough Road, where the 
 solicitor's bride was, as the wedding-cards 
 intimated, at home to receive the con- 
 gratulations of thQ neighbourhood, friendly 
 or otherwise. 
 
 The smell of paint was still hanging 
 about the place. The sheen of scarcely-
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPAXIOX. 211 
 
 dried varnish asserted itself from every 
 lintel and door-post. All things had an 
 air of ne"Nvness, especially the feminine 
 fripperies ^\ith which the blue-satin draw- 
 ing-room was plentifully furnished forth, 
 Mrs. Antony herself, in dove-coloured 
 cashmere, to harmonize with the fur- 
 niture, being the most elegant of the 
 fripperies. 
 
 The solicitor's bride was a well-rounded, 
 lovely complexioned woman of an un- 
 certain age, decidedly pretty, though ^dth 
 nothing about her face or manner to in- 
 dicate good-breeding. But then, Lady 
 Lowater had not expected good-breeding. 
 She was simply calling upon Mr. Antony's 
 wife, and she would have called upon her 
 all the same if Mr. Antony had married 
 her out of a servants' hall, because only 
 by calling upon her, and so keeping 
 friendly with the man who knew the 
 
 p2
 
 212 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 secrets of lier own life, could she keep 
 tliat brave, handsome son of hers from 
 ruin and disgrace. She could have taken 
 both for herself, and death too ; but not 
 for him. And so she shook hands A\dth 
 the piece of plump prettiness which the 
 lawyer had chosen for his portion in life, 
 and never showed by any coldness in 
 touch or manner that the doing so was 
 other than a pleasure. 
 
 But, if Mrs. Antony lacked high breed- 
 ing, she had plenty of the tact and 
 elegance and self-possession which some- 
 times go for more than good descent. 
 And she had that ready power of adapt- 
 ing herself to circumstances, which, if 
 not so noble, is more useful to a woman 
 in her position than the power of con- 
 trolHno; them. She was also one who 
 could make a little go a long way, in 
 matters social as well as domestic, one
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 213 
 
 who knew at a glance wliat was the 
 marketable value of any commodity, from 
 a saddle of mutton to a call from a 
 baronet's widow, and would treat it ac- 
 cordingly. Outwardly, she had an air of 
 leisurely, self-satisfied content, but be- 
 neath it there might be discerned the 
 sharp running to and fro of a vigilance 
 which was always on the alert, both to 
 keep what she had ab'eady gained, and 
 to conquer fresh ground. And now Lady 
 Lowater had called upon her, and that 
 meant being received into the best society 
 of the place. Called too, as she had 
 seen by a rapid glance from the upper 
 windows before the bell rang, in the 
 family carriage, with coachman and foot- 
 man in full force ; and that meant honour, 
 with intention aforethought. This last 
 marriaoe was S'oino; to be a successful 
 one.
 
 214 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 ' I hope you will not find Lowater very 
 dull after Hurchester/ said my lady, with 
 a sort of careless kindliness, as she de- 
 scended into an easy-chair, whose brand- 
 new satin crackled and rustled with pride 
 over the unwonted burden it was now for 
 the first time sustaining. 'You know, I 
 think one always misses the amusement of 
 a large town, especially when a regiment 
 is quartered there. You must prej^are 
 yourself to find us all excessively dull 
 here.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony smiled. And, what was 
 more, the smile brought no crow's-feet to 
 the corners of her eyes, hers being the 
 fair, soft skin which does not take on 
 wrinkles. 
 
 ' I have certainly been accustomed to 
 plenty of society,' she said, with a cosy, 
 caressing voice, ' but I don't think I shall 
 at all miss it here.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 215 
 
 That might imply either that Mrs. An- 
 tony's husband was all-in-all to her, or 
 that to be upon calling terms with Lady 
 Lowater was more profitable than the 
 other advantages, of a miscellaneous and 
 military sort, which Hurchester could 
 afi'ord. Something in the pretty shyness 
 of the manner made both my lady and 
 Miss Pentwistle think it was the charms 
 of Mr. Antony. And Miss Pentwistle felt 
 sharp accordingly. To think that all this 
 blue-satin luxury and devotion might have 
 belonged to herself, had she only been 
 ^vide enough awake some twenty years 
 before ! 
 
 ' It was very good of you to come and 
 see me,* the new Avife continued ; ' but I 
 suppose you know that I am entirely a 
 stranger here. And one does feel lonely, 
 especially in the country.* 
 
 ' Of course,' said my lady. ' and the
 
 216 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 place lias not got into its summer clothing 
 yet, which makes all the difference. You 
 clo not know the neighbourhood much, 
 then ?' 
 
 ' Not at all. Since we left Malta, I have 
 lived all the time at Hurchester, except 
 for one year, when my daughter. Valence 
 Dormer, was training in one of the Bel- 
 gian hospitals. Yon know she developed 
 a perfect passion for nursing, and people 
 told me I had better let her follow it.' 
 
 ' People told you quite right. Anything 
 is better than for a girl to have nothing to 
 do. I remember, years ago, hearing my 
 son speak of Miss Dormer's great skill in 
 her profession. You know he had a nasty 
 accident when his regiment Avas down at 
 Hurchester, and they took him into Miss 
 Dormer's ward at the hospital there.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes. Curious, was it not ? And 
 to think that I should meet you now !
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 217 
 
 Valence is devoted to nursing and all that 
 sort of thing. I believe she is perfectly at 
 sea here, because there are no sick people 
 to take care of. I tell her she is never 
 happy unless she is amongst lint and ban- 
 dages, or propping people up in bed, and 
 helping them to die comfortably.' 
 
 ' That is a good way of finding one's 
 happiness,' said my lady, with a look of 
 longing in her eyes. ' I don't know whether 
 there is anyone about here now in need of 
 lint and bandages, but there is one who 
 sorely needs helping to die comfortably, 
 and I was very glad when I heard Miss 
 Dormer was with you, because I felt sure 
 she would be glad to do something. It is 
 a poor girl wdio is dying in consumption. 
 Do you care for visiting sick people ?' 
 
 Mrs. Antony was not quite certain what 
 to say. One could not walk too warily on 
 unfamiliar ground. Everything depended
 
 218 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 upon Lady Lowater's own likes and dis- 
 likes in such matters. There were people 
 of rank upon whom you could not work 
 more effectually than by telling them you 
 delighted in Dorcas societies and sick- 
 visiting. But then there were others who 
 despised such things as being ' goody,' and 
 would prefer keeping you out of their set 
 if they knew you cared about them. 
 
 Now, to which party did Lady Lowater 
 belong? Miss Pentmstle spoke for her- 
 self. She carried about mth her an atmo- 
 sphere of tracts and flannel petticoats. 
 One could see that she was cut out for a 
 female curate, a gatherer-in of the poorer 
 classes who were lax about public worship ; 
 and perhaps the fact that for the last 
 fifteen years she had been companion to 
 Lady Lowater, might imply that that lady 
 had a leaning towards the same sort of 
 thing. But one could not go upon such
 
 LADY lowatek's companiox. 219 
 
 a slender foundation. People of rank were 
 by virtue of that rank committed to a 
 certain amount of benevolence, and it was 
 just possible Lady Lowatcr might hand 
 hers over to Miss Pentwistle, more for the 
 sake of getting rid of trouble than for any 
 leaning towards Miss Pentmstle's way of 
 transacting it. So she replied, with a fine 
 reserve of her forces for either emergency, 
 
 'Well, you know, it depends entirely 
 upon circumstances. Of course I am de- 
 lighted to be of any use. At the same 
 time, I think it is always safer to feel one's 
 way at first. It is so uncomfortable to 
 find you have done the wrong thing.' 
 
 ' Exactly. But you don't often do the 
 wrong thing, at least the poor people don't 
 think you do, in shomng them that you 
 feel a kindly interest in them.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no, of course not,' replied Mrs. 
 Antony at once, feeling that the ice would
 
 220 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 bear in that direction now. ' I always 
 long so for poor people to understand 
 me, and to feel tliat I really want to do 
 them good. In fact, I am never com- 
 fortable unless I have some one of that 
 sort to be kind to. I am hoping that 
 Mr. Rock will give me something to do 
 before long. It would be so charming 
 to go and sit down and have a chat with 
 an old woman in one of those ivy-covered 
 cottages. You know in Hurchester the 
 poor people lived in such filthy dens, posi- 
 tively repulsive.' 
 
 ' I daresay,' said my lady, with a curious 
 smile, as she leaned back amongst the 
 puffed and rustling satin, ' and it is natural, 
 under such circumstances, to think that 
 they had better take care of themselves. 
 But the cottages here are all that ivy and 
 abundance of moss can make them. Of 
 course one knows that the moss means
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 221 
 
 damp, but that goes for nothing. I hope 
 Miss Dormer likes this part of the country.' 
 
 ^ Likes it ? Oh, she is charmed ^\dth it ! 
 She says she has never seen anything so 
 beautiful. Indeed, my la ' 
 
 Mrs. Antony caught herself up, as one 
 who hears the ice cracking and feels the 
 cold water through the soles of her boots. 
 But it was only for a moment. Before 
 Lady Lowater could note a pause in the 
 syllables, she had made all right. 
 
 ' Valence says it is exactly like one of 
 Millais' landscapes ; you know that sweet 
 thing of his in the Academy last year?' 
 
 And then, seeing that Lady Lowater 
 looked doubtful, she continued, mth a 
 pretty air of doubt, too. 
 
 ' Was it last year ? I should think ver}' 
 likely it was not. Perhaps ever so long 
 ago. But, at any rate, it was something 
 of his.'
 
 222 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 ' Indeed ! I never understood that 
 Millais went in for landscape. I always 
 fancied figures and historical things were 
 more in his line. But I don't know. I 
 see the Academy so seldom that he might 
 have dozens of landscapes there, all of them 
 like Lo water, and T should know nothing 
 about it. I will ask Lady Belleray some time.' 
 
 ' Oh ! no, no ; do not trouble. Most 
 likely it is only a mistake of mine. I do 
 blunder over names most ridiculously. 
 As likely as not, it is quite another artist.' 
 
 ' At the same time,' said Miss Pent- 
 wistle, with just a touch of spitefulness, 
 for there was no harm in catching Mr. 
 Antony's wife tripping, ** ' it would be a 
 satisfaction to know if Mr. Millais has 
 ever done Lowater the honour of putting 
 it upon canvas. We must try to find 
 out. And here is Miss Dormer herself 
 She will tell us all about it.'
 
 22; 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Valence came forward; a bright, sensi- 
 ble, intelligent girl, concerning whom one 
 thought less of how she looked than of a 
 certain healthful freshness which surround- 
 ed her, and which produced, amongst the 
 elegant marriage gifts and the varnish and 
 or-molu of Mr. Antony's di'awing-room, the 
 feeling that a good, honest bush of sweet- 
 briar might give rise to in the midst of 
 half an acre of carpet-gardening. She had 
 walked up from the Cove, gathering ferns 
 by the clifF-sidc as she came, and the climb 
 had given a glow to her cheeks and a 
 brightness to her eyes which made her 
 even pleasanter than usual to look upon.
 
 224 LADY LO WATER S COMPAXIOX. 
 
 She was certainly a contrast, and Lady 
 Lowater felt it, botli to tlie artificial ele- 
 gance of her mother and the absence of 
 that quality, artificial or otherwise, in 
 Miss Pentwistle. 
 
 'We were just talking,' said her lady- 
 ship, when the introductions and a few 
 general remarks had been disposed of — 
 ' we were just talking about the beauty of 
 the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Antony tells 
 me it reminds you so much of some of 
 Millais' paintings. I should so like to 
 know which. I have never thought of 
 him as a landscape-painter ; but of course 
 one would feel very proud if he really had 
 taken our little village as a subject.' 
 
 Miss Dormer looked puzzled. 
 
 'Lowater like a landscape by Millais? 
 I really don't remember.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony darted a look of something 
 like annoyance at her daughter.
 
 LADY Lo water's compaxiox. 225 
 
 ^ Well, I was just telling Lacly Lowater 
 that perhaps it might not be Millais at 
 all. I have such a wretched memory for 
 names. I get quite confused about my 
 own sometimes. At any rate, it was a 
 landscape of somebody's that you said it 
 reminded you of 
 
 'Did I? WeU, I forget. But, at any 
 rate, the country about here is very pretty, 
 whether it is like a landscape by Millais 
 or not.* 
 
 'Pretty?' said Mrs. Antony. 'It is 
 perfectly charming; and to anyone like 
 myself, who has never lived in a real vil- 
 lage before, it is so full of interest. Now 
 I think those dear old labourers in their 
 smock-frocks are delicious. Mr. Antony 
 and I met one last night, somewhere near 
 the park-gates. The very delightfullest 
 old creature, vdih a grisly beard, and suck 
 a rough, honest face. He had a little 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 black dog with liim, as characteristic as 
 himself. A perfect picture the two of 
 them made.' 
 
 ^ Oh ! I know,' said Lady Lowater. ' It 
 was old Ben Dyson, the woodman. He is 
 one of the best men about the place, as 
 well as the most picturesque. Poor fel- 
 low ! he has seen a good deal of trouble. 
 Indeed, it is his daughter in whose behalf 
 I should like to interest Miss Dormer.' 
 
 And here Lady Lowater turned towards 
 Valence, and Mrs. Antony entered into 
 conversation with Miss Pentwistle, who 
 was admiring a quaint little silver ink- 
 stand on the table. 
 
 ' Pretty, is it not ?' said the solicitor's 
 wife ; ' and one of my very choicest 
 treasures, because it has been in our 
 family since Queen Anne's time. Indeed, 
 I should not feel like myself if I had 
 not that httle inkstand about me. You
 
 LADY lowatek's compaxiox. 227 
 
 know, one does get so attached to trifles, 
 when they have a family history.' 
 
 ^ Oh ! dear^ yes,' responded Miss Pent- 
 mstle, A\ith a certain feeling of relief that 
 she had not, after all, been quite ' out ' 
 as regarded the antiquity of Mrs. An- 
 tony's descent. A silver inkstand of Queen 
 Anne's time was as satisfactory as an old 
 family butler, viewed in its relation to 
 respectability, and might be accepted as 
 an atonement for the absence of real lace 
 upon the person of its possessor. There 
 was also a pride in knowing that the 
 position Avhich she might have occupied 
 herself was now filled by a lady who, 
 at any rate, had a pedigree to boast of 
 Mr. Antony had not socially descended 
 in choosing a successor to his affections. 
 
 ' I dote upon these little matters myself,' 
 Miss Pentwistle continued. ' I saw at 
 once that the inkstand was an old famil}^ 
 
 q2
 
 228 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 piece. One does not see that kind of 
 work now-a-days. So full of dear associa- 
 tions, is it not ; and forms such a delight- 
 ful link with the past? And you really 
 do wish to make acquaintance mth some 
 of our poor people ?' 
 
 Mrs. Antony felt that she might with 
 safety be enthusiastic now. 
 
 'I should be charmed^ Miss Pentwistle, 
 perfectly charmed. In fact, I feel that 
 I ought to go amongst the poor, and try 
 to do them good. I tell Mr. Antony he 
 must find out some nice people for me 
 to be kind to, respectable, aged old couples, 
 you know, who would be thankful for a 
 pudding now and then, or a little sou^^, 
 or anything to show that one had a 
 friendly feehng. It is such a mistake to 
 neglect one's inferiors. But I daresay you 
 can tell me a great deal better than Mr. 
 Antony can where there are some nice
 
 LADY Lo water's compaxiox. 229 
 
 poor people. I am sure you must s^Dend 
 your time in going about doing good.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle allowed that there was 
 some truth in the statement. 
 
 ' Ah ! yes,' continued Mrs. Antony. ' It 
 is wonderful how one finds out. I knew 
 from the very first that you must be 
 one of those who devote their lives to 
 charity. So delightful ! I only wish I 
 had the same talent. Of course it is 
 a talent, you know ; and we ought not 
 to murmur if we don't all possess it. But 
 I do feel so reproached sometimes, when 
 I see the labours of women like yourself. 
 However, you will take me, will you not ? 
 to some of your dear old people, and you 
 will let me hear you talk to them, and 
 then perhaps ' 
 
 ' Oh ! with the greatest pleasure,' said 
 Miss Pentwistle, promptly, beginning to 
 think there was really a great amount
 
 230 LADY lowater's compaxion. 
 
 of good in Mrs. Antony. To have one's 
 own strong points discovered is a fine help 
 towards the aj)preciation of one who dis- 
 covers them. ' Indeed, it wdll be a great 
 help to me to have some one upon whom 
 I can devolve a few of my cases. You 
 see, in a secluded neighbourhood like this, 
 at a distance from wealth and commerce, 
 anyone who feels an interest in the poor 
 need never be ^^dthout occupation. Per- 
 haps, if I were to take you first to see 
 poor Margaret Dyson, the daughter of 
 that old labourer whom you met. She 
 is in a very sufi*ering condition just uoav.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony put out her hand in a 
 gentle, protesting manner. 
 
 ' IS^ot if she is very suiFering, dear Miss 
 Pent^istle — not if she is very suffering. I 
 could not bear it. It does hurt me so to 
 see people in pain, and know I cannot 
 relieve them. Anvthimr but that. And
 
 LADY LOWATEe's COMPAyiOX. 231 
 
 then, you see, I cannot help letting my 
 feelings overcome me.' 
 
 ' Ah ! that does not do at all.' said Miss 
 Pent^dstle, with the air of an expert. 
 ' There is no o:ood to be effected unless 
 YOU can keep your feelings completely 
 under control.' 
 
 ' Of course not, and that is why I feel I 
 am so useless in a very suifering case. Do 
 take me, please, to some aged people, as I 
 said before, to whom I can supply a few 
 little comforts, and it will be such a plea- 
 sure. Xothino' reallY oiyes me such de- 
 light as to be kind to people of that sort. 
 Hopeless distress unnerYCS me at once. 
 Oh ! Lady Lowater, must you really go?" .^ 
 
 And Mrs. Antony turned towards my 
 lady, who had been holding a close and ap- 
 parently interesting couYcrsation with Va- 
 lence Dormer about what could be done for 
 the dYino' woman at the woodman's cottage.
 
 232 LADY lowater's compa^^ion. 
 
 ' Must you really go, Lady Lowater ? 
 It was so kind of you to come and see me. 
 I have been asking Miss Pentwistle about 
 the poor people here, and she has promised 
 to try to make me of some use amongst 
 them. I tell her I never feel really happy 
 in a place unless I am trying to make 
 people comfortable.' 
 
 ^ It is a very admirable state of mind,' 
 said her ladyship. ' I am sure you mil 
 never lack occupation, if you can manage 
 to carry out your wishes. Miss Dormer 
 has promised to see Margaret Dyson to- 
 morrow, and try what can be done for her 
 in the way of nursing. We hope to see 
 you at the Court some day, Mrs. Antony.' 
 
 ' So kind, so very kind. You are really 
 too good. It will be such a pleasure. My 
 husband tells me the paintings are so 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' I don't know. But there are lovely
 
 LADY Lo water's compaxiox. 233 
 
 walks in the plantations, and Miss Pent- 
 wistle shall show you them. And from 
 one part of the grounds we can see the 
 ocean — that is, when Lady Belleray's 
 chestnut-trees are not in leaf 
 
 ' Oh, how delightful! I think a sea- view 
 is such an advantage. I had no idea you 
 commanded it. A thousand thanks. It 
 will be such a pleasure to me to come.' 
 
 And with many other like words, and 
 with many a sweet smile, Mrs. Antony 
 allowed the first of her bridal callers to 
 depart.
 
 234 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 ' Well, that is done,' said Lady Lowater, 
 speaking as if to herself, when the horses' 
 heads were turned in the direction of 
 home. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle gave the buffalo robe a 
 tuck on her own side. The weather was 
 cold for the end of April, and the bridal 
 drawing-room, even with a good fire, had 
 been chilly. 
 
 'Yes, it is as you sa}^, done. But I 
 think we have had a tolerably pleasant 
 call. Upon the whole, we may look upon 
 Mrs. Antony as an acquisition to general 
 society.'
 
 LADY LOWATEPv's COMPANIOX. 235 
 
 ^ We will wait and see,' said Lady Lo- 
 Avater, quietly. ' I am never able to feel 
 sure about new people. I have a most 
 curious feeling of having seen her before 
 somewhere, or, at least, some one very 
 much like her, and the feeling grows upon 
 me. But of course I am mistaken, for did 
 she not say she was quite a stranger in 
 this neighbourhood ?' 
 
 'Yes, at least Mrs. Petipase said so. 
 And then you remember Mrs. Antony said 
 she had never lived in a village before, so 
 she must be a stranwr here. She is verv 
 fascinating, is she not ?' 
 
 ' Oh, by all means. But it is the sort of 
 fascination that never fascinates me. I 
 am always on the defensive when I am 
 expected to be charmed. However, we 
 mil give her the credit of having pretty 
 manners.' 
 
 'Well, you know, Lady Lowater, I call
 
 236 LADY loavater's companiox. 
 
 it a great deal more than pretty manners. 
 It is a sort of style Avhicli always en- 
 sures a woman success in tlie world. Do 
 you know, I found out only yesterday 
 that Mrs. Antony has already been a widow 
 twice.' 
 
 Lady Lowater positively laughed ; a rare 
 thing for her to do. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Pentwistle, I did not 
 know that was the sort of success a woman 
 liked to ensure. Pray let her go on and 
 prosper. But what will Mr. Antony say 
 to it ?' 
 
 ' Well, you know, I don't mean that it is 
 pleasant for her to have her husbands die, 
 one after the other, but she secures an- 
 other establishment without much delay. 
 I am perfectly sure if Mr. Antony died 
 too she would marry a fourth time.' 
 
 ' And so am I. I quite agree with you 
 there. Mrs. Antony is a person who might
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 237 
 
 be expected to liave as many husbands as 
 the woman of Samaria, the only difference 
 beino' that she would marrv them one at a 
 time, and have the property settled upon 
 herself. Which is of course a much more 
 creditable way of arranging matters.' 
 
 Miss Pent^dstle looked shocked. 
 
 ' Lady Lowater ! You do put the Scrip- 
 tures to such curious uses. Do you think 
 it is quite reverent ?' 
 
 ' I don't know. I always thought one of 
 the best uses of the Bible was to apply it 
 to the conduct of everyday life. At any 
 rate that is what Mr. Rock says about it, 
 and he has a great amount of common- 
 sense out of the pulpit, whatever you may 
 think he has in it.' 
 
 '■ In my opinion he has not very much in 
 it, and that is an unfortunate thing for a 
 clergyman.' 
 
 ^ Of course it is. I am inclined to think,
 
 238 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 however, that Mr. Rock has it both ways. 
 And, even if not, common-sense is as use- 
 ful outside the church as inside. Mr. 
 Rock's best sermon is his daily life. But 
 we will let him alone. You and I cannot 
 agree about our spiritual pastors and 
 masters. Xow you like Mr. Crudenay, 
 with his mastery over the emotions, 
 and his partiality for lemons at any 
 price.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lady Lowater, please don't. It is 
 so painful to me. To speak so of an 
 earnest man.' 
 
 ^ Well, then, I won't. But to say of one 
 man that he has no common-sense is almost 
 as bad as to say of another that he has a 
 weakness for lemon-juice, both Avith veal 
 and mth his domestic relations. Let us 
 talk about Miss Dormer. She is refreshing, 
 is she not ? I had a really interesting 
 conversation with her while you and Mrs.
 
 LADY lowatek's comp.vxiox. 239 
 
 Antony were going into raptures over that 
 old inkstand.' 
 
 Just a tinge of sharpness crept into Miss 
 Pentwistle's manner. 
 
 ' Yes. I thought the young lady seem- 
 ed disposed entirely to appropriate you. 
 Rather unbecoming in her position. When 
 I was her age we were taught to keep our- 
 selves in the backgTound. But times are 
 changed now.' 
 
 ' And I am glad they are, for I should 
 have been sorry to miss what Valence 
 Dormer had to say. I do enjoy talking to 
 a sensible girl, who has something to do 
 in the world, and who knows how to do 
 it.' 
 
 ' It is well she has a vocation,' said Miss 
 Pentwistle, with more meanings than one 
 in her voice. ' It makes her independent 
 of marrying, and that is such a good thing 
 for a young woman now-a-days. I sup-
 
 240 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 pose slie mil soon be returning to Hur- 
 chester. I believe nurses on the regular 
 staff in a great public institution are not 
 allowed very long holidays.' 
 
 ' Is she on the regular staff just now T 
 
 ^I am not sure. But, at any rate, a 
 feeling of what is becoming under the 
 circumstances will probably induce her to 
 leave Mr. and Mrs. Antony alone together 
 as soon as the reception of wedding callers 
 has ceased.' 
 
 ^ You talk like a book, Miss Pentwistle. 
 Now, does that mean that you are not 
 satisfied mth Miss Dormer ?' 
 
 ^ Not in the least. Lady Lowater. I only 
 mean that it is so much better for husband 
 and wife to be left to themselves at first, 
 in order that they may become acquainted 
 with each other's character and peculiar- 
 ities. There must always be a certain 
 amount of friction in the commencement
 
 LADY lowatee's compaxiox. 241 
 
 of a new life, and it is so miicli better for 
 it to be got over quietly.' 
 
 ' Of course. Friction of all sorts is best 
 kept in the background. But I have no 
 doubt Mrs. Antony "will give ]\Iiss Dormer 
 to understand, in some way or otlier, wlien 
 she ^\dslies to be left alone. We will 
 arrano^e an eveninor before lono; for asking; 
 
 c o o o 
 
 them to dine quietly.' 
 
 ^ Lady Lowater ! How kind of you I 
 But why should you give yourself the 
 trouble ? Mr. Antony could hardly have 
 expected that you should have done his 
 wife the honour of calling upon her, but to 
 ask her to dine is a oTcat condescension on 
 your part. However, there is no hurry.' 
 
 For Miss Pentwistle had her o^v^i reasons 
 for Avishing that the condescension should 
 be deferred until Miss Dormer had returned 
 to her duties at the Hurchester hospital, 
 especially as Sir Merrion might be expected 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 home now, almost at any time. But Lady 
 Lowater's reply Avas not assuring. 
 
 ' When a thing has to be done, I like it 
 to be done quickly. As soon as Mrs. 
 Antony has returned my call, I shall make 
 arrangements. Besides, I msh Miss Dor- 
 mer to come with her mother.' 
 
 That was enough. Miss Pentwistle knew 
 when to speak and when to be silent. One 
 must go so far with Lady Lowater and no 
 further. Arrived at the park gates, my 
 lady checked the coachman. 
 
 'I shall get out here, Miss Pentwistle. 
 I want a brisk walk. Calling always makes 
 me so stiff. And you need not trouble to 
 come vdth me, for I know you like to have 
 a quiet time before dinner. Humphreys, 
 drive Miss Pentwistle on to the house.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Lady Lowater. I do like 
 to have a little quiet time for reflection. 
 Then we meet again by-and-by.'
 
 LADY LOAYATEr's COMPANION. 243 
 
 And, ^^ith a wave of the hand, her lady- 
 ship went in the direction of the planta- 
 tions. 
 
 Passing the lines of carefully fenced and 
 guarded coops, where farm-yard hens were 
 brooding the pheasants' eggs, that being 
 the surest means of securing a good supply 
 of birds for the next season, she met Mr. 
 Antony. The game was a part of the 
 property over Avhich he exercised a rigor- 
 ous supervision, because the profit of it 
 went, for the most part, into his own 
 pocket. 
 
 Lady LoY^ater stopped ^vhen she Y^as a 
 few paces from him. 
 
 • I have done as you Ydshed me, Mr. 
 Antony. I have just returned from a call 
 upon your mfe.' 
 
 ' That is quite right,' said Mr. Antony, 
 and said no more, only Y^alked about from 
 coop to coop, to see that the foYds Y^er^ 
 
 r2
 
 244 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 
 
 kept in proper order. Lad}' Lowater's 
 courtesy was evidently no more than lie 
 had expected. 
 
 'I did even more than make the call/ 
 she continued. ' I went to the Bellerays, 
 and Dolhno;brokes, and Crumberlevs, and 
 Murray-Mortimers first, and told them I 
 was going to make it. And I had out 
 the bio' carriag^e, and the coachman, and 
 the footman, and all the rest of the things. 
 I hope you are satisfied that I have done 
 my best.' 
 
 She looked very disdainful as she said 
 it, and did not try to hide her disdain. 
 
 'AH right,' Mr. Antony replied, throwing 
 a handful of grain to one of the hens. 
 ' People go very much by what their bet- 
 ters do. I have no doubt Bettina will 
 have plenty of callers of the right sort 
 now. I am much obliged to you. It 
 was an attention on your part which did
 
 LADY lowater's companiox. 245 
 
 not cost much trouble ; and, as I have 
 said before, one good turn deserves another.' 
 
 ' May I ask which is the good turn that 
 is so deserving ?' said my lady, scornfully. 
 
 ' My silence, Lady Lowater.' 
 
 And another handful of corn went to 
 the fowls. 
 
 Lady Lowater just set her lips a little 
 more firmly together, but she made no 
 reply. 
 
 ' You say you told the other people 
 you were going to call?' Mr. Antony 
 continued, after a pause. ' That was a 
 very good stroke. I wish to occupy a 
 different position in the neighbourhood 
 now. Indeed, that was my chief object 
 in bringing Mrs. Antony to the Elms. 
 A man at my time of life is not so much 
 led by other considerations.' 
 
 ' Poor thing !' said my lady. '' I hope 
 you have told her so.'
 
 246 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 ' You need not be sarcastic, Lady Lo- 
 water. I have as niucli right to my pride 
 as you have to yours. By her marriage 
 with me, Mrs. Antony gains comfort, 
 luxury, freedom from pecuniary care, 
 together with many other advantages ; 
 and in return she makes for me an 
 elegant home, to \Yhich I am now able to 
 invite the visits of gentlewomen. Though 
 Mrs. Antony has no property, she is quite 
 a lady. I have satisfied myself of that, 
 and therefore she is entitled to the posi- 
 tion which I hope she will now enjoy. 
 I suppose we must begin to think about 
 lettino' the shootino; for next season. It 
 ought to bring in a good two hundred 
 this year, as game is likely to be so scarce. 
 I will make a note of it to-morroAv at 
 the office.' 
 
 ' I don't think you need do anything of 
 the sort,' said my lady. ' I expect Merrion
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 247 
 
 home in a week or two, and he will want 
 the shooting himself.' 
 
 Mr. Antony shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Merrion coming home ! I thought that 
 piece of foohshness had blown over. And, 
 l^ray, what brings him T 
 
 ' His own inchnation, I presume,' said 
 her ladyship, loftily. ' It is within the 
 limits of reasonableness that a son should 
 wish to see his mother, occasionally.' 
 
 ' Perhaps. And also that he should 
 wish to see the estate of which he sup- 
 poses himself to be the master. Well, 
 we will let that go. But, Lady Lowater, 
 I must tell you this. If that son of 
 yours puts on any more of his airs A\dth 
 me, neither his pride nor yours shall keep 
 me from telhng him who and what he is.' 
 
 And Mr. Antony turned from the coops 
 to watch the effect of his words. 
 
 Lady Lowater looked away to the l:)ud-
 
 248 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 dins: oTeen of the larcli trees. There was 
 but one spot of brightness now in all her 
 life —the love she bore to this son, who, 
 knowing nothing as yet, gave her a mo- 
 ther's due of chivalry and affection. As 
 yet she was to him his queen, but a word 
 from this man could sweep her queendom 
 away. Still Mr. Antony should not see 
 that she was afraid. 
 
 ' I don't think it would serve your pur- 
 pose,' she said, carelessly, ' to have a quar- 
 rel mth Merrion.' 
 
 ' Would it serve yours, madam ?' 
 
 Lady Lowater ground the gravel under 
 her feet, but said, as quietly as before, 
 
 ' Suj)pose you do your worst. Tell him 
 all you please. Put the place into Chancery, 
 and what better will you be ? You make 
 a fair income out of it now — you will 
 make nothing then.' 
 
 ' Nothing except my revenge,' Mr. An-
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 249 
 
 tony replied, ' and tliey say that is sweet. 
 I don't deny that, as things are now, I get 
 my pickings, but a man will do for hate 
 sometimes what he will not do for gain. 
 Merrion has driven me to the very edge of 
 my patience more than once with his lofty 
 airs. He had better not do it too often. 
 And you had better not either.' 
 
 ' One can but die once,' Lady Lowater 
 said, half to herself, ' but it takes all one's 
 life to do it ;' and, turning away, she made 
 for the path which led to the house. He 
 watched her with a coldly speculative look 
 on his face. 
 
 ' There is one person, at any rate, who 
 would not go into mourning if she heard 
 of my death. As she says, I do get my 
 pickings, and, if the place went where it 
 belongs, I should lose them. One may as 
 well keep still. But they shall both of 
 them be afraid of me all the same.'
 
 250 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Lady Lowater's call was returned in due 
 course, and tlien arrangements were made 
 for the quiet little dinner. 
 
 ' It shall be as quiet as possible, Miss 
 Pentwistle. I shall not even go to the 
 extent of providing a gentleman each.' 
 
 ' Why should you, Lady Lowater ? We 
 can get on very well without. The only 
 difficulty is that there will be an odd num- 
 ber, and Mr. Antony will be left alone with 
 his wine.' 
 
 ' I have thought of that, and so I shall 
 ask Mr. Rock. You really must beam 
 upon him a little, Miss Pentwistle, and 
 make him comfortable, poor man.'
 
 LADY lowatee's co:\ipaxiox. 251 
 
 ' I Adll do anything that is necessary,' 
 said that lady, fetching a sheet of paper 
 upon which to note down the order of the 
 o^uests at the dinner-table, toirether with a 
 suitable bill of fare ; '■ Init I am in hopes 
 that Miss Dormer ^dll take that duty off 
 mv hands. AVhv should she not ?' 
 
 And Miss Pent^^'istle looked keenly at 
 
 Ladv Lowater. 
 
 %/ 
 
 Yes, just a little shadow passed over the 
 faded face — enough to show that my lad}- 
 did not care for things to go in that direc- 
 tion. Xow, it was the very direction that 
 Miss Pentwistle did want them to go in. 
 And, if Lady Lowater had not mentioned 
 Mr. Rock as the remedy for the odd num- 
 ber, she intended to have mentioned him 
 herself. Xot so much that she thought 
 anything would really come of it as that 
 she should perhaps, by suggesting it, g^t 
 a better sight of whatever plans might be
 
 '252 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 in course of construction for Sir Merrion's 
 benefit. A most curious wliim for Lady 
 Lowater to take up ; but then she never 
 did things like other people. Now, after 
 Miss Pentwistle's adroit remark, she could 
 see there was something of the sort in her 
 ladyship's mind. 
 
 'Dear me! of course. Iliad forgotten 
 we were providing some one else to beam 
 upon him. Then, Miss Pentwistle, you 
 will have to beam upon Mr. Antony, be- 
 cause you see I must devote myself to the 
 bride. I shall have the table made as 
 small as possible, so that we can talk 
 across it, because you see, under the cir- 
 cumstances, there is nothing for it but for 
 Mr. Antony to take me in, and I cannot, 
 no, I really cannot^ endure an hour and a 
 half of him. Therefore I shall put you 
 within conversation distance of him, and, 
 whilst you relieve me, I shall do my best
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 253 
 
 to convince 'Mrs. Antony that she is the 
 object of my attentions. Xow, you cjuite 
 understand.' 
 
 ' Quite. And then Mr. Rock and Miss 
 Dormer will look after themselves.' 
 
 Again that slight shadow flitting across 
 Lady Lowater's face, noted as clearly as 
 before by the watchful Miss Pent^^dstle, 
 into whose eyes there came a shrewd light 
 as her ladyship replied, after a little silence, 
 
 ' I wonder now, if it would be better to 
 make just a trifle more of a regular dinner 
 party of it. I could ask the Belleray girls 
 and I know they would come. Xot of 
 course that it would be anything short of 
 a nuisance to them to meet the Antonys, 
 but they never refuse an invitation here, 
 because if they don't come when I am 
 alone they cannot expect to be asked 
 when Merrion is at home. The drum 
 again. Miss Pentwistle, you see.'
 
 254 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 ' Exactly. But I would not ask them 
 for next week. You are already embarras- 
 sed with riches in the shape of woman- 
 kind, and to ask the two Belleray young- 
 ladies would so increase the weight that 
 you would be obliged to have a detach- 
 ment of men from Byborough. You see 
 one can put up with four and two upon a 
 pinch, especially Avhere it is an aifair of 
 condescension after all, but six and tAvo 
 would be really an infliction. If I were 
 you, I would let matters stand as they are. 
 I have no doubt amongst us we can make 
 the evening pass off tolerably. At any 
 rate we will try.' 
 
 'Very well,' said Lady Lowater. But 
 she said it doubtfully. ' Mr. and Mrs. An- 
 tony and Miss Dormer and Mr. Rock. 
 The small square dining-table. I at one 
 end, with Mr. Antony at my elbow, Mr. 
 Rock at the other end ^yith. Mrs. Antony
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 255 
 
 on his right. On his left you will sit, and 
 Miss Dormer on the other side of you.' 
 
 ' Then you will have Mr. and Mrs. An- 
 tony together on the other side, which 
 will never do.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! of course not. I should say 
 put Miss Dormer to the left of Mr. Rock, 
 and Mrs Antony on his right.' 
 
 Again that shrewd light in Miss Pent- 
 wistle's eyes, again the flitting cloud over 
 Lady Lo water's face. 
 
 ' No, I ^nll not do it that way. I want 
 Miss Dormer beside me. The problem is 
 really becoming as difficult as that about 
 the man with a fox and three geese, which 
 had to be brought over the river two at a 
 time, so that the fox was never left alone 
 mth the geese or something of that sort. 
 Now, I beo'in a^'ain. Mr. Rock at one 
 end, I at the other, Mr. Antony on my 
 right. Miss Dormer on my left, Mrs. An-
 
 256 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 tony on Mr. Rock's right, you on his left. 
 That is as I msh it to be. Make a plan 
 of it, Miss Pentmstle, on your piece of 
 paper, that we may not get into trouble 
 again, for my brain feels as weary already 
 as if I had demonstrated a proposition in 
 geometr}\ Have you put it down 
 safely?' 
 
 ' I have,' said Miss Pentwistle. 
 
 ' And you ought to be satisfied, because 
 you have a gentleman on each side of you, 
 which is more than anyone else has. And 
 you will have to beam upon Mr. Rock, 
 after all, because Mrs. Antony will not like 
 you to beam upon her husband. Never- 
 theless, you understand that mthout beam- 
 ing upon him to any unjustifiable ex- 
 tent, you are yet to engage him in such 
 an interesting conversation that I may be 
 free of the responsibility of him by at 
 least the space of two separate half-hours.
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 257 
 
 during which intervals I shall devote my- 
 self to the guest of the evening.' 
 
 And Lady Lo water's lip curled. 
 
 'I will see that it is all made right for 
 you,' said Miss Pent^^dstle. ^ I am sure it 
 is very kind of you to ask them, and, if 
 they look at it in the right light, they ^^ill 
 see that it shows far more attention to 
 have them in this quiet way than if you 
 had invited half-a-dozen people to meet 
 them. Because in that case it would only 
 have looked like clearing oiF a few of your 
 outstanding debts.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I had not thought of that. 
 Well, then, after dinner, if the evening is 
 fine, I shall propose a walk through the 
 plantations, and you distinctly understand, 
 Miss Pentwistle, that you are not to say 
 anything to the contrary when I propose 
 it. That horrible little bit of purgatory 
 before the gentlemen come in, is simply 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 more than I can undertake. And I anx 
 not at all sure that matters will be better 
 when they do make their appearance. 
 Outside one does at least get fresh air, and 
 the different prospects give one something 
 to talk about, and if one is silent it does 
 not count for so much. Noav, my dear 
 Miss Pentwistle, do you understand your 
 role f 
 
 '• I think I do. Lady Lowater.' 
 
 And as Miss Pentwistle finished her 
 plan of the dinner-table, Avith the names 
 of the guests in their several places, she 
 thought she understood Lady LoAvater's 
 too. But of course she said nothing about 
 that.
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The evening was more perfect than could 
 have been expected, even for the middle 
 of May. Lady Lo water had purposely 
 fixed an earlier hour than usual for din- 
 ner, in order that the relief of a garden- 
 stroll after it might he more admissible. 
 But had Miss Pentwistle so far for- 
 gotten her instructions as to venture a 
 protest against leaving the dramng-room, 
 the golden sunshine glancing through the 
 blossoming hlacs and laburnums, and the 
 gleams of light and shadow flecking the 
 distant plantation, Avhere the thrushes and 
 blackbirds were telling their tuneful story, 
 
 s 2
 
 260 LADY lowater's compaxion. 
 
 would have conquered, especially as it was 
 necessary for Mrs. Antony to keep up her 
 character as a lover of simple, outdoor 
 country life. 
 
 ' You know, after being shut up in a big 
 town like Hurchester, I feel like a child 
 let loose from school,' she said. ' I tell 
 Mr. Antonv he does not know what a 
 treat he is giving me every time he takes 
 me down what he calls the most uninter- 
 esting lanes. Only let me have your 
 green leaves around me and blue sky 
 overhead, and you may do anything you 
 like with me. I am j)erfectly content.' 
 
 This was said to Miss Pentmstle, as 
 the two ladies sauntered across the terrace 
 to the plantation-path, Lady Lowater and 
 Miss Dormer having turned aside into 
 another part of the grounds. Mrs. An- 
 tony had a way of speaking of herself 
 in the j)assive mood, as though she were
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 261 
 
 something to be petted, and managed, and 
 plftyed upon, and paid attention to, but 
 Miss Pent^dstle bad not had enough of 
 it yet to become tired of it. And then 
 she was certainly a fascinating woman, 
 with the social tact which finds out other 
 people's likes and dislikes, and ministers 
 to or avoids them as occasion may require. 
 Men or women whom she cared to please 
 nearly always found themselves pleased 
 by her, whether they made up their 
 minds to it or not. 
 
 ' I think we will go to the rock-seat,' 
 said Miss Pentwistle. ' Lady Lowater 
 likes me to take strangers there, because 
 you get such a lovely view^ of the sea. 
 It is such a pretty winding path, too, 
 which leads to it. Or Avould you prefer 
 keeping to the open lawn? It is very 
 pretty there, now that the trees are in 
 blossom.'
 
 262 LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, thank you. Please take nie 
 to the sea-view. I do love the sea. And 
 I think a gentle little climb does me good, 
 when it is not too steep, you know. I 
 hope it is not very steep. And nothing 
 to make you dizzy ^^ith looking down. 
 I am such a foolish creature about looking 
 down from a height.' 
 
 'There is nothing to be afraid of, I 
 assure you,' said Miss Pentmstle. ' It is 
 reall}' nothing of a climb at all. We 
 only get the prospect because there hap- 
 pens to be a little break through Lady 
 Belleray's chestnuts, when they are not 
 in full leaf I come nearly every day 
 myself, because I think a little gentle 
 ascent is better than being always on 
 the level. It will be ' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle Avas going to say that 
 the most direct road to the rock-seat lay 
 through a little narrow path to the left.
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 263 
 
 but, before slie could express herself to 
 that effect, Mrs. Antony had taken the 
 turning, slightly to her companion's sur- 
 prise ; for visitors did not usually find 
 their way into it. 
 
 ' I was going to tell you the path ; but 
 hoAV curious that you should find it out 
 l)y yourself! I suppose it is an instinct 
 which some people have. Now, I always 
 want telling exactly where to go.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony stooped to gather some 
 wood-anemones which were growing by a 
 mossy stump. 
 
 ^ Is this the path V I was only just 
 turning aside to look at these dear little 
 wild flowers. They are so perfectly sweet. 
 Flowers of any kind are a treat to me, 
 ])ut wild flowers most of all. Have you 
 not a weakness for wild flowers yourself?' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know. You see, I am 
 so much in the habit of seeino' them that
 
 264 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 
 
 I really forget to ask myself whether I 
 have a weakness for them or not. I sup- 
 pose, as you have not lived in the country 
 much, they have cjuite a different effect 
 upon you. I think you said you did not 
 know much about the country ?' 
 
 For Miss Pent^\dstle had a certain 
 amount of curiosity, perhaps justifiable 
 under the circumstances, as to the ante- 
 cedents of this pleasant and pretty 
 stranger, whom her own old lover had 
 placed at the head of his establishment. 
 Mrs. Antony was not communicative, 
 but what she did say was definite enough. 
 
 ^ I don't know anything at all about 
 it, my dear Miss PentAvistle. I believe 
 my people had a place originally, near 
 some village or other ; but that was when 
 I was almost a baby, and I have been 
 living abroad, or in big towns, ever since, 
 so that the country has all the charm
 
 LADY LOWxVTER's compaxiox. 265 
 
 of novelty to me now. I rejoice in it. 
 What a happy life you must live here !' 
 
 And Mrs. Antony laid her hand upon 
 Miss Pentwistle's arm with a dainty little 
 invitation of confidence. 
 
 ' I have no wish to change it, Mrs. An- 
 tony. It suits me very well. I daresay 
 some people might consider it dull, as 
 Lady Lowater goes out so seldom ; but, 
 you see, having been here so long, I have 
 become accustomed to it, and she is really 
 very kind.' 
 
 ' Yes, I should think so. It is too bad 
 for people to talk about her so ill-natur- 
 edly as they do. You know, the Belle- 
 rays were calling upon me the other day, 
 and they did talk so disagreeably about 
 Lady Lowater being Ijitter and ill-tem- 
 pered, and they pitied you so, and won- 
 dered how you could put up with her. 
 I do think it is so mean of people to talk
 
 266 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 ill that way. And the Crumberleys were 
 ahnost as bad.' 
 
 This was a convenient way of intimat- 
 ing that the Bellerays and Crumberleys 
 had called at the Elms, and Miss Pent^\'istle 
 understood it accordingly. She was very 
 sharp in finding out any little social shifts 
 of this nature, perhaps because she would 
 not have been above making use of them 
 herself, if necessary. But she would not 
 minister to Mrs. Antony's vanity by tak- 
 ing any notice. Not that she disliked 
 Mrs. Antony, either on her own account 
 or because she was Mr. Antony's wife, but 
 still there was a something which made 
 her want to put the solicitor's bride 
 just a step lower on the ladder. She 
 seemed a little too much at ease amongst 
 her aristocratic surroundings, just a little 
 too unconscious of the fact that her re- 
 ception at Lo water Court was a conde-
 
 LADY LOWATEP/s COMPANIOX. 267 
 
 scensioii, after all. ]\Iiss Peiitwistle -would 
 have enjo}X'd telling her a little of the 
 conversation which had accompanied the 
 arrangement of that dinner-party. And 
 then for her to take upon herself to dis- 
 cuss Lady Lowater's temper. 
 
 ' Lady Lowater and I quite understand 
 each other,' she replied, with a touch of 
 stiffness, ' so that my home here is a very 
 comfortable one. I forget Avhether you 
 attend oiu^ church or not. Have you met 
 Mr. Rock before ?' 
 
 This was intended as a delicate snub, 
 Ijut it had no more effect than a shot on a 
 down pillow. 
 
 ^ Oh ! yes, poor little man ! A most 
 Avretched living, is it not? Xo wonder he 
 does not marry. You kno^^^ I always feel 
 so sorry for clergymen on anything less 
 than three hundred a year. How can they 
 be comfortable ? The Bellerays sa}' they
 
 268 LADY LOWATEll's COMPANION. 
 
 tliink Lady Lowater ouglit to supplement 
 his income. She must be well able to 
 aiFord it. Or rather Sir Merrion. Is he 
 really coming home soon ? How very de- 
 lightful for his mother ! But, if he should 
 retire and marry, it would be awkward, 
 would it not? I suppose Lady Lowater 
 would have to leave the Court then.' 
 
 'What an impertinent woman you are!' 
 thought Miss Pentwistle, who was now 
 quite ready to give Mrs. Antony credit 
 for any amount of matrimonial scheming. 
 And, from what had already been said, 
 Mr. Rock's position was entirely under- 
 stood. Miss Dormer's mamma would not 
 take any steps in that direction. But she 
 only replied, ' Lady Lowater and myself 
 never discuss these matters. I find it 
 better to avoid personal subjects. I hope 
 the ascent is not too trying foi* you ; we 
 are very near the top now.'
 
 LADY lowater's cdmpaxiox. 2G9 
 
 ^ Not iit all, thank you. You have 
 taken me up so gently that I have not 
 felt it in the least. And then the path is 
 so lovely that one forgets all about br-ing 
 tired. Ah ! noAv I begin to get a glimpse 
 of the Ijeautiful blue sea. Oh ! ]\Iiss Pent- 
 wistle, how delightful ! Xo wonder you 
 eome here so often. Dear me, how those 
 chestnut-trees have grown ! I am sure 
 they used ' 
 
 And then Mrs. Antony paused, but not 
 before Miss Pent^vistle had heard the 
 words. 
 
 ' T am sure,' she continued, ' they used 
 to tell me — or, perhaps, it was Mr. Antony 
 himself. You see I get things mixed up a 
 little. Everything is so new and strange.' 
 
 * Yes, of course. Or, perhaps, you have 
 been here before, a long time ago, long 
 enough to have almost forgotten it, and 
 now things are coming back to you a
 
 270 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 little. Do you know, when you turned so 
 naturally into that path I felt sure that 
 you must have known the place.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony glanced into Miss Pent- 
 wistle's hard, matter-of-fact face, ])ut onh' 
 read there a j ustiiiable expression of curi- 
 osity, nothing malicious. Still it would 
 1)0 l3etter to make an explanation. She 
 hent her head and laid her hand upon her 
 lips with an appearance of absorption in 
 some far-off memory. And then she said, 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 ' I am trying to remember.' 
 
 ' You see,' said Miss Pentwistle, briskly, 
 ' you might have been staying with some 
 friends somewhere about, and they might 
 have brought you for a walk through 
 the grounds. Lady Lowater is very kind 
 in letting people come.' 
 
 But it would not do for Mrs. Antony to 
 accept that solution of the problem, since
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 271 
 
 she had already assured Lady Lowater 
 more than once that she had never been 
 in the neighbourhood before. She drew a 
 step or two nearer to Miss Pentwistle, and 
 said, in a slightly mysterious voice, 
 
 ' I have certainly seen this before. You 
 know one does sometimes fancy one has 
 seen things before, even though it may 
 only have been in dreams. Don't you 
 sometimes, when you are shown anything 
 very beautiful, have a curious sensation of 
 familiarity, as if you had seen it in a 
 dream?' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no !' said Miss Pentwistle. 
 ■ I never dream at all, except about things 
 that have been happening during the day. 
 And, when I awake, I know that it is a 
 dream. I never get it mixed up with any- 
 thing else.' 
 
 This was not satisfoctory. Miss Pent- 
 Avistle must be made to understand what
 
 272 LADY Lo water's comp.vxion. 
 
 a gulf existed between common-place peo- 
 ple like herself, and those of exceptionally 
 receptive temperament. 
 
 ' Ah ! then, of course, you cannot un- 
 derstand. People generally laugh at me 
 when I talk about these fcicies of mine, 
 l)ut I assure you they are quite real 
 to me, far too real. It is a misfortune 
 sometimes to have too vivid an imagina- 
 tion. One cannot distinguish between the 
 ideal and the actual. People who live on 
 the safe level of every-day life ought to be 
 very thankful.' 
 
 Now, that might be true, but, at the 
 same time, it was not flattering. Miss 
 Pentwistle could see that Mrs. Antony 
 was proud of her own imaginative faculty, 
 and, by taking for granted that certain 
 other people were destitute of it, was 
 placing those people in an inferior position 
 to herself. Miss PentA\dstle had no imaai-
 
 LADY lowater's co^ipaxiox. 273 
 
 nation, and knew that she had none, but 
 still she liked to be credited with as much 
 as might give her a comfortable foothold 
 amono;st the sensitively oro'anised sister- 
 hood, and so she replied, mth just a little 
 touch of spitefulness against this elegant 
 stranger who Avas coming out in quite a 
 new character, 
 
 ' I am not what is called a person of 
 imagination, Mrs. Antony, I knoAv that 
 quite well. I often wish that Providence 
 had gifted me with a larger measure, be- 
 cause I have no doubt it adds colourinof 
 to life. I have never myself had any diffi- 
 culty in remembering where I have been, 
 and where I have not been, but I can quite 
 sympathise vdth people of a different na- 
 ture. At the same time, you know my 
 tendency of mind is to search for rational 
 causes. I like to find out the reasons of 
 things. Now I should say Mr. Antony or 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 somebody else had brought you here for a 
 walk some time. That would explain 
 everything.' 
 
 ' Except my having assured Lady Lo- 
 water that I had never been in the place 
 before,' thought Mrs. Antony to herself 
 And then a bright idea suggested itself 
 Coming still nearer to her companion, she 
 said, in a low voice, 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle, you have made me 
 half afraid of you. You have such a clear, 
 penetrating mind.' 
 
 That was better. Miss Pentwistle was 
 brought round directly. To have such a 
 mind was the very thing upon which she 
 prided herself. 
 
 ' I believe the reasoning faculty is more 
 developed in me than the imaginative one, 
 Mrs. Antony, but I should be very sorry 
 for you to feel afraid of me on that ac- 
 count. I very much dislike to assume an
 
 LADY LO water's c o:\rpAXiox. 275 
 
 attitude of superiority, however thankful 
 I may be for the powers vouchsafed to me. 
 I hope you mil try to feel yourself quite 
 at home with me.' 
 
 ' Oh ! thank you — that is so good of you. 
 And A\'ill you promise not to be angry or 
 laugh at me if I tell you something very 
 curious about myself? I could not tell it 
 to everyone, but I think I might trust 
 you: 
 
 ' By all means, Mrs. Antony. I assure 
 you I shall sympathise if it is anything 
 that distresses you.' 
 
 ' No, it does not distress me. It is not 
 anything of that sort, only ' 
 
 And Mrs. Antony paused, and passed 
 her hand over her forehead, and sighed, 
 like a person who is compelled to live at 
 perpetual high pressure. 
 
 ' Only it seems to set me apart from 
 other people so. They never understand 
 
 T 2
 
 27G LADY LOWATER S COMPANION. 
 
 mo if I make the least reference to it. 
 Clairvoyance^ Miss Pentwistle.' 
 
 And Mrs. Antony drew back a little, to 
 watch the effect of her words. That wonld 
 explain everything, snrely. 
 
 ' You are not shocked, are you, dear 
 Miss Pentwistle?' 
 
 ' Oh, no. Mesmerism and that sort of 
 thing, I suppose. It is very curious. You 
 go out of yourself and see things when 
 you are in a certain state of mind, do you 
 not?' 
 
 ' Exactly. You have expressed it in the 
 most perfect manner. And the strangest 
 thing is that, when you come to yourself, 
 you do not know anything about it. It is 
 only when, perhaps years afterwards, yoTi 
 actually come to the place which has been 
 presented to you, you have such a curious 
 feeling of familiarity. You know you 
 have seen it before, and you cannot tell
 
 LADY LOWxVTER's compaxiox. 277 
 
 where. Are you ever acted upon in that 
 manner yourself?' 
 
 ' Not at all, Mrs. Antony, I assure you ; 
 but it is very interesting to nie to hear 
 about it. Can you remember any other 
 instance ?' 
 
 ' Well, not just now. Of course, you 
 know, they must have happened very 
 often ; but, unless I make a note of them 
 at the time, they sHp out of my mind. 
 But you see noAv how it is, don't you, that 
 that bit of blue sea was so famihar to me ?' 
 
 ' Yes, and it is very curious. You must 
 tell me some time more about it. Xow I 
 think we ought to look for Lady 
 Lowater.'-
 
 278 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 They found her, coming mth Valence 
 Dormer doAvn tlie path which led from 
 Ben Dyson's cottage to the plantations. 
 
 '• We have had a very pleasant little 
 stroll,' said Miss Pentmstle, with the air 
 of a person who has something more im- 
 portant to tell. ' I took Mrs. Antony up 
 to the rock-seat, to show her the view, but 
 she has seen it before.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony looked slightly uncomfort- 
 able. Miss Dormer looked very much sur- 
 prised. Lady Lowater only said, carelessly, 
 
 ' Lideed, I thought you were quite a 
 stranger in these parts.' 
 
 And then she added, with a scarcely 
 perceptible touch of disdainful annoyance.
 
 LADY lowater's compakiox. 279 
 
 ^ Or perhaps Mr. Antony has taken you 
 through the grounds, some time.' 
 
 For this of course would be one of the 
 consequences of his marriage, that feeling 
 he could do as he liked on the estate, and 
 having but little backwardness in letting 
 other people see his power, the plantation 
 walks and the rock-seat, and the secluded 
 paths in which Lady Lowater had hither- 
 to been accustomed to think her own 
 thoughts undisturbed, would now be 
 placed at the disposal of the new wife, in 
 case the public lanes and commons did not 
 afford sufficient scope for her enthusiastic 
 love of Nature. But Miss Pentmstle 
 explained. 
 
 ' Oh, no ! Mrs. Antony has never been 
 in the grounds before. I thought at first 
 Mr. Antony had most likely taken her, 
 but she has seen the place in quite a 
 different way. Do you know. Lady Low- 
 ater, Mrs. Antony is a clairvoyante ?'
 
 280 LADY lowater's coimpaxiox. 
 
 ' Miss Pentwistle ! such nonsense !' said 
 Lady Lowater, but with an air of relief. 
 Clairvoyance was better than unwarrant- 
 able intrusion upon the privacy of the 
 grounds. 
 
 ' Well, you may say it is nonsense, 
 dear Lady Lowater, but all the same it is 
 a fact. As soon as ever we reached the 
 rock-seat, and ]\Irs. Antony saw those 
 chestnuts on the Belleray side of the wall, 
 she remarked how much they had grown. 
 Did you not, now, Mrs. Antony? And 
 hoAV could you have noticed any difference 
 in them, unless ' 
 
 ' Oh ! please^ Miss Pentwistle,' and the 
 solicitor's wife looked appealingiy round, 
 for it was inconvenient to have these new- 
 ly created psychical peculiarities In-ought 
 so prominently to the front, especially in 
 the presence of Valence, who of course 
 ought to have known all about them if 
 they had really existed ; but who, instead
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXIOX. 281 
 
 of knowing anything about them, was 
 standing tliere Avitli an unmistakable ex- 
 pression of wonder in her truthful eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, please, Miss Pentwistle, it is so un- 
 comfortable for me to have anything said 
 about it in public. I had so much rather 
 let the whole thing drop. You know I am 
 really afraid of my own feelings, some- 
 times. It is so stupid to lind out one is 
 different from other people. Indeed, I so 
 dislike bringing the subject forward, that I 
 have never even mentioned it to my own 
 daughter. Have I, Valence dear ?' 
 
 ' Xo, mamma,' said Valence. ' This is 
 the first time I have ever heard of it. Do 
 you often see things in this way ?' 
 
 ' My child, let it drop. I should so like 
 to forget all about it. Some time. Miss 
 Pentwistle, perhaps we AA'ill have a little 
 quiet talk about it, when I have got back 
 again into my usual state of mind. But, 
 after an instance of this kind, I feel so un-
 
 282 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 nerved. It is really all that I can do to 
 keep from breaking down entirely.' 
 
 ' Suppose we go back to the house,' said 
 Lady Lowater, w^ho had a wholesome dread 
 of hysterics. ' You look as if the excite- 
 ment had been too much for you. Here is 
 a smelling-bottle.' 
 
 Mrs. Antony took it with the helpless 
 air of a person who has been 'put upon.' 
 And then a few subdued sobs and chokes 
 called for such demonstrations of sym- 
 pathy as precluded a return to the danger- 
 ous topic. A few more steps brought 
 them to the lawn, where the gentlemen 
 were pacing up and down. 
 
 ' Oh ! there is Mr. Antony. Take me 
 to him, please. I shall be all right in 
 a few minutes. I am so sorry to have 
 broken down in this ridiculous way, but 
 you can't think what an effect anything 
 of this kind has upon me. Thank you, 
 dear Lady Lowater, for the smelling-bottle.
 
 LADY LO water's compa:n'iox. 283 
 
 Valence, perhaps you ^\ill let me take 
 your arm. I am trembling all over. So 
 foolish of me !' 
 
 Valence gave the help required, a curi- 
 ous look of mingled surprise and in- 
 credulity, not unnoticed by Lady Lowater, 
 upon her face. And, within a quarter 
 of an hour, the guests had departed, Mrs. 
 Antony having found it impossible to 
 regain her composure sufficiently to join 
 in general conversation. 
 
 Miss Pentwistle, however, had the mat- 
 ter out with Lady Lowater as they sat 
 in the drawino;-room, waitino; for the 
 servants to come in for prayers. 
 
 ' You know, my dear Lady Lowater, 
 I have a particular interest in clairvoy- 
 ance myself, because I firmly beheve it 
 j)roceeds from satanic agency.' 
 
 'Li that case, then. Miss Pentwistle, 
 you ought to let it alone.'
 
 284 LADY LOWATEr's COMrANION. 
 
 ' And so I do, as n general rule. That 
 is to say, I should not think it proper 
 to attend a lecture upon the subject ; but, 
 when it is brought under one's personal 
 notice, it makes a difference. Mrs. An- 
 tony is a remarkable instance of the 
 manifestation.' 
 
 'Nonsense, my dear Miss Pentwistle, 
 Mrs. Antony is not a woman, I should 
 think, Avho has any more communication 
 with the spiritual world than she can 
 help. She is no more a clairvoyante than 
 you or I. I look upon her as a clever, 
 wide-awake person, much more keenly 
 alive to the promise of the life that now 
 is than of that which is to come.' 
 
 ' Very likely. But how could she know 
 the chestnuts had grown, if she had never 
 seen them before ?' 
 
 ' She had heard them described, pro- 
 bably. Merrion may have told Miss Dor- 
 mer something about the place, and Miss
 
 LADY LOWATEPv's COMPAXTOX. 285 
 
 Dormer lins told \\cv luotlier ; and it lias 
 got fixed upon her mind in that ^va^^' 
 
 ' Ah ! hut thei'c was something else. I 
 told her Ave would go to the roek-seat, and 
 she assented, saying that eveiything was 
 equally new to her. And, when we got 
 to that little side-path which leads to it, 
 she turned int(^ it as naturally as could 
 be. Now, wh}' should that he?' 
 
 ' Most likely because you turned first.' 
 
 ' No. On the contrary, I was a few steps 
 behind, for T had stopped to listen to what! 
 thought might be the ni^te of a nightingale 
 in the larch spinny. Mrs. Antony had not me 
 to thank for leading in the I'ight direction.' 
 
 'Then she turned into the ])ath because 
 it was a pretty one. You know, she is 
 a lover of Nature.' 
 
 ' Lady Lowater, you ai-e ver}- severe and 
 very sceptical. I say she turned into it 
 because she had seen it before, either in- 
 the clairvoyant or in some other state.'
 
 286 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 ' I sliould say it was some other state. 
 But tlie matter is really of very little con- 
 sequence. Now, I don't pretend to 
 clairvoyance myself, but I liave a most 
 distinct impression that I have seen Mrs. 
 Antony's face before. Most likely I have 
 and then have forgotten all about it. In 
 the same way she has been about in these 
 parts at some time or other, and has been 
 taken through the grounds when we were 
 away, and so she remembers the impression 
 she received, without being able to attach 
 it to any particular set of circumstances. 
 One need not go further than that for an 
 explanation.' 
 
 ' You think you have seen her before. 
 Well, then, I will tell her so, and perhaps 
 it will set her mind at rest. I never like 
 people to think they are under the influ- 
 ence of anything which is not what it 
 ought to be.' 
 
 'Not even when it is supposed to in-
 
 LADY lowatek's compaxiox. 287 
 
 vest them ^^itll a halo of interest in the 
 eyes of the less gifted general public' 
 ' I see you think she is imposing.' 
 ' That is just what ^I do think. It is 
 what we all of us try to do in one way or 
 another, and I do not know why we 
 should blame Mrs. Antony very much for 
 doing it in her own particular fashion. Of 
 course, she naturally wishes us to feel 
 an interest in her, and, not having any 
 special qualifications of her own to pro- 
 duce it, she trades upon a happy accident 
 of this kind. Most likely it was all got 
 ready beforehand, as soon as she knew 
 there was a prospect of any kind to be 
 looked at, and we mil give her the credit 
 of having carried it out very cleverly, even 
 to the sobs and the shakes and the desperate 
 attempts at regaining composure. But, 
 Miss Pentwistle, do get the servants in to 
 prayers. I don't know how you feel, but 
 the days are always too long for me.'
 
 288 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Mrs. Antoxy was not to rest in peace. 
 Xext morning Miss Pentwistle took a walk 
 down to the Cove, and brought back, as 
 she always did from that little hotbed of 
 gossip, one or two choice morsels as an 
 antepasto to the other^^ise flavourless mid- 
 day meal. 
 
 As soon as Simmons had taken his de- 
 parture, she began. 
 
 ' It is such a comfort one isn't obliged 
 to have the servants at luncheon-time.' 
 
 ' I have never heard you make that re- 
 mark before. Miss Pentwistle. I thought 
 you liked to have them about you always
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 289 
 
 and in full force too, just tlie same as you 
 like grapes in May, and strawberries six 
 months before their time, as a sort of help 
 towards a feeling of superiority over your 
 fellow- creatures. Now, neither fruit out of 
 season, nor a couple of footmen in season, 
 make me feel a bit better than other peo- 
 ple. Indeed it rather works the other 
 Avay, for I think people ought to be asham- 
 ed of wanting so much making ready and 
 doing for them. Now Mr. Rock, who 
 rears his own potatoes, and gets through 
 life honourably, with nobody but a poor 
 woman to do for him, seems to me a much 
 more wealthy person in the true sense of 
 the word.' 
 
 ' Never mind Mr. Rock, Lady Lowater. I 
 have somebody much more interesting to 
 talk about. I have been to call upon Mrs. 
 Petipase.' 
 
 ' Ah ! then it is Mrs. Antony. But, Miss 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 Pentmstle, you are not to bring up clair- 
 voyance. I have no wish for interesting 
 psychical phenomena this morning, gen- 
 uine or otherwise — chiefly otherwise, I 
 should think.' 
 
 ^ And so should I, now. Lady Lowater. 
 I am quite disposed to consider that whole 
 affair of the rock-seat as just a clever piece 
 of pretence. A person who Avould deceive 
 you in one way would do it in another.' 
 
 ' So you have found out, have you, that 
 Mrs. Antony's internal motives are not 
 clear as crystal? Oh, penetrating Miss 
 Pentwistle ! But tell us all about it. 
 What has she been doing? I feel much 
 more interest in her doings than her 
 seeings.' 
 
 ^ Well, then, you remember that Queen 
 Anne inkstand, that sweet little thing 
 which I admired so much when we were 
 calling there — and Mrs. Antony said it
 
 LADY LO water's COMPAXION. 291 
 
 was an old family piece ? Now, what do 
 you think?' 
 
 ' I think it loas an old family piece, only 
 most likely not Mrs. Antony's family. In 
 fact, you have found out that she bought 
 it at a sale.' 
 
 ' Not quite. But somebody else did. 
 Mrs. Petipase told me that her sister, Mrs. 
 Cottman, who lives at a village near Hur- 
 chester, and was rather intimate with Mrs. 
 Dormer, bought the inkstand at an old 
 curiosity-shop near the cathedral, and had 
 it polished it up and gave it to her as a 
 wedding present. Now, what do you think 
 of that, Lady Lowater?' 
 
 ' I think it proves Mrs. Antony to be a 
 very prudent, managing woman.' 
 
 ' But as to the untruthfulness. Lady 
 Lowater — the untruthfulness.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I daresay, if you attacked Mrs. 
 Antony on the ground of the untruthful- 
 
 u2
 
 292 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 ness of it, she would tell you slie liad kept 
 to facts. The inkstand no doubt was a 
 family piece — of somebod}^ else's. And 
 as for feeling such an affection for it that 
 she could not be comfortable out of its 
 sight — well, people whose acquaintance 
 with old silver is of a recent date are apt 
 to want it always about them, less as a 
 matter of love than display. I am afraid 
 you would not be able to convince her 
 that she has done anything naughty.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, it is the essence of a lie, 
 Lady Lowater. I am sure you must admit 
 that, and very dishonourable. And to 
 think that you have invited her to dinner 
 and treated her with such courtesy.' 
 
 'As to the dining, Miss Pentmstle, I 
 am afraid, if we had no guests but those 
 who adhered strictly to the truth, we 
 should have to take all the leaves out of 
 the table. Indeed, could we sit comfort-
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 293 
 
 ably at it ourselves ? I would not be too 
 sure.' 
 
 • I sliould not be in the least afraid, my 
 dear Lady Lowater. It has been my aim, 
 ever since conscience developed in me, to 
 speak the truth, and hurt no man by word 
 or deed. I am sure you could say the 
 same, only you ahvays try to make your- 
 self out so much worse than you reall}^ 
 are. Shall you keep on being attentive to 
 Mrs. Antony ?' 
 
 ' Yes, just the same. As I said before, 
 if one is only to be courteous to the strict- 
 ly truthful people, we shall soon have very 
 little occasion for our good manners at all. 
 Then there is Miss Dormer. It would be 
 unjust to visit upon her the sins of her 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Miss Dormer. I had almost for- 
 gotten. You had a lono; talk ^\ith her 
 last night. Are you as favourably im-
 
 294 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 pressed with her now as you were at first?' 
 Miss Pentwistle waited rather anxiously 
 for the reply to this question. Mrs. An- 
 tony's shortcomings had not been entirel}' 
 unwelcome, because they pointed to a 
 cessation of intercourse betAveen her 
 ladyship and the solicitor's wife. There 
 were occasions when even a good Church- 
 woman might rejoice in iniquity, and one 
 of them was when it jmt a stop to an in- 
 convenient acquaintance. But Lady Lo- 
 water's reply was by no means satisfactory. 
 ' I like Valence Dormer very much. She 
 has her mother's practical cleverness, to- 
 gether with, an honesty of mind which has 
 certainly not come to her from the mater- 
 nal side. I intend to know more of her.' 
 
 ' It would be rather difficult to do that, 
 I am afraid, without at the same time en- 
 couraging Mrs. Antony. And I am afraid 
 you would find her an inconvenience. She
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 295 
 
 is exceedingly free in her expressions of 
 opinion alDout other people.' 
 
 ' So are we ourselves, Miss Pent^^istle, 
 otherwise I don't see how we could have 
 kept up this conversation so long. Mrs. 
 Antony and her daughter having so little 
 in common, is perhaps an additional reason 
 for kindness to the girl. But I have no 
 doubt she will give much more than she 
 receives, and so we need not talk about 
 kindness.' 
 
 ' Give ! What can she give to you. Lady 
 Lowater?' 
 
 ' Just what I want, help for Margaret 
 Dyson. I took her to the cottage last 
 evening, whilst you were having your 
 clairvoyance experiences A^ith Mrs. Antony, 
 and I have no doubt she has already done 
 the poor girl more good than half-a-dozen 
 doctor's visits. She seemed at once to see 
 what was needed in the room. She
 
 296 LADY lowater's companion. 
 
 scarcely took a step without making some- 
 thing brighter and pleasanter. It might 
 be only to shake up a pillow, or to move 
 the chair into a better position, or quietly 
 to brush away some dust, or draw a cur- 
 tain so that the light might come in more 
 cheerfully. Anyhow, when we came away, 
 Margaret's face was ever so much brighter. 
 And yet there was no fuss, no professional 
 self-consequence about her. You could 
 not tell how or when the things were done, 
 only there was the diiference.' 
 
 ' They must miss her very much at the 
 Hurchester hospital,' said Miss Pentwistle, 
 tentatively. ' I wonder how long the lady 
 superintendent will allow her to stay here ?' 
 
 ' As for that, I wish she could settle per- 
 manently in the village. I am sure we 
 could find work enouoii for her.' 
 
 o 
 
 ' Very likely. Only it would be such a 
 pity for talents like hers to be wasted in a
 
 LADY lowater's compaxiox. 297 
 
 place like this. I always think, when 
 people have a gift, they ought to consider 
 it a duty to go where it can have the 
 fullest possible development. Xow, you 
 see, at Hurchester, and in a crowded hos- 
 pital ward -' 
 
 ^ Oh, yes, I see all that. But just be- 
 cause it id a crowded hospital ward, and 
 because Valence Dormer has been working- 
 hard there for a twelvemonth, without any 
 rest, it might be a good thing to bring her 
 here — at any rate, for long enough to train 
 some one who could be of use after she is 
 gone. It would 1)e as good as a holida}^ 
 to her, and it Avould be a great boon to 
 the village. If I thought such a proposal 
 would fall-in A\ith her o^\ai wishes, I would 
 ask her at once to come and stay ^^ith me.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle gave a httle start. And 
 Sir Merrion Lowater expected home at al- 
 most any time. Lady Lowater, certainly.
 
 298 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 
 
 must be taking leave of her senses. But 
 one must not oppose her too violently. 
 My lady was one of tliose who would carry 
 out a scheme, simply because the unde- 
 sirability or impossibility of it was flung 
 in her face ; when, if she were let alone or 
 gently directed into some other interest, 
 the obnoxious plan might die a natural 
 death. But in this case it must be made 
 to die, if possible. And so she replied, in 
 a tone which did not indicate too much 
 interest, either of one sort or another, 
 
 ' I am afraid that would scarcely be 
 practicable. You see those hospital nurses 
 are generally under rigid rules, and, if 
 Miss Dormer is on the regular staff, she 
 could only accept your kind invitation by 
 giving up her appointment. It would be a 
 thousand pities for her to do that. Think 
 what opportunities of usefulness she would 
 be relinquishing.'
 
 LADY LO water's COMPANION. 299 
 
 ' As to tliat, the hospital would be only 
 too glad to have her back whenever she 
 chose to go, that is, if it had an}' common- 
 sense at all. And the committee ought 
 also to be very glad to put a place like 
 this into the way of training its own nurses. 
 Only think how useful they might be down 
 at the Cove, where invalids are always 
 coming. But that idea of Miss Dormer 
 settling here permanently has not shaped 
 itself into anything yet. I was thinking 
 more how very pleasant it would be to 
 have her in the house for a few weeks. 
 She carries about mth her an atmosphere 
 which is more refreshing to me than I can 
 describe.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle shifted her ground now. 
 
 ' She does. There is, as }'ou say, a won- 
 derful straightforwardness about her. It 
 might just weary you a little by-and-by, 
 but at present I can quite understand how
 
 300 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 it carries all before it. But do you think 
 it would be a real kindness to bring her 
 here as a guest ?' 
 
 ' Why not ?' 
 
 ' Well, you see, everything would be so 
 different from her usual surroundings, and 
 the contrast would be so painful when the 
 time came for taking up the old round of 
 duty again. I have my dou1)ts whether it 
 is ever well to introduce an entirely new 
 element into a life which has become habit- 
 uated to its own routine. You see, now, 
 Miss Dormer is quite content. What she 
 might be when she had once become ac- 
 customed to the luxuries of Lowater Court 
 is another matter.' 
 
 Miss Pentwistle thought she had put 
 that very nicely. Xo one could question 
 cither the common-sense or the kindliness 
 of it. And over all there was cast the 
 mantle of solicitude for that particular
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 301 
 
 sphere of work to which Miss Dormer had 
 devoted herself. Could even Lady Lowater 
 wish such a work to be interrupted ? 
 
 Apparently Lady Lowater could. 
 
 ' I don't think Valence Dormer depends 
 much upon surrounding circumstances/ 
 she replied, rising as if to put an end to 
 the conversation. ' She knows what she 
 has to do, and she does it. She is not one 
 Avho leans back upon cushions of au}^ sort, 
 more than is necessary.' 
 
 ' That is because she has such a good 
 constitution,' said unperceptive Miss Pent- 
 mstle. ' I always say a strong spine is 
 such a blessing to a woman. But I did 
 not mean that Miss Dormer would feel 
 the absence of easy-chairs in going back 
 to the hospital. I have no doubt they make 
 the nurses comfortable, after a fashion. It 
 is rather the being lifted out of her natural 
 sphere. You see, the people with whom
 
 302 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 she lias been accustomed to associate ' 
 
 * Oh ! I understand. You think she is 
 not quite good enough for us, that we are 
 condescending a little. Well, I think just 
 the contrary. I think that a girl who is 
 of as much use in the world as Valence 
 Dormer, confers a favour rather than 
 otherA\dse upon the idle women, like our- 
 selves, when she gives us the benefit of 
 her clear-sighted activity and cheerful- 
 ness. I shall ask it as a great favour 
 of her that she will spend with me what 
 little time she can before taking up her 
 work again at Hurchester. I don't think 
 Mrs. Antony will object.' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, no. Lady Lowater,' said Miss 
 Pent^vistle, with just a touch of spiteful- 
 ness. Things had gone very ' contrairily ' 
 this morning. 'Mrs. Antony will be the 
 very last person in the world to do any- 
 thino: so foolish. She A\dll be fir more
 
 LADY lowater's co:mpaniox. 303 
 
 likely to manage things so that Miss Dor- 
 mer shall give up her situation at Hur- 
 chester altogether, and then she ^dll look 
 to you to provide a permanent home for 
 her ; that being the least that could be 
 expected, when you have deprived her 
 of her former means of maintenance. Mrs. 
 Antony object ! No, indeed. I am onh^ 
 afraid you may be committing yourself 
 to an indefinitely long visit on the part 
 of the young lady.' 
 
 ' Never mind. I will do what I feel 
 to be right for Margaret Dyson, and the 
 rest may take care of itself Now I am 
 going to my afternoon nap.' 
 
 And Ladv Lowater went awav, leavino- 
 Miss PentA\istle in a most uncomfortable 
 state of mind.
 
 304 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Foe of course Mrs. Antony avouIcI snatch 
 at tlie invitation. A far less contriving 
 woman would do that, and not be to 
 blame, either. And, once established at 
 the Court, there was no telling, as Miss 
 Pentwistle had very wisely hinted to Lady 
 Lowater, when Miss Dormer might leave it. 
 Margaret Dyson might linger on in- 
 definitelv. With careful nursing and the 
 comforts supplied from the Court, she 
 probably would do so. One might give 
 her until next mnter at the very least. 
 And Sir Merrion was to come home at 
 the beginning of June, say in three weeks'
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 305 
 
 time. Had Lady Lo water thought of 
 that ; and was she prepared for every- 
 thino' that mio-ht come of the meetino;? 
 Apparently she had thought, and was 
 prepared, judging from her openly ex- 
 pressed admiration of Miss Dormer, and 
 the equanimity, not to say satisfaction, 
 with which she spoke of her possible 
 permanent settlement in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Xow Miss Pentmstle, thouo^h not shifted 
 with an intellect above the common lot, 
 had yet a considerable amount of shrcAvd 
 observation, quickened by having had to 
 take care of herself in other people's 
 houses for the last hve-and-twenty years. 
 She was thankful to say that she was not 
 a selfish woman, far from it ; but her own 
 rights she knew, and her own rights she 
 would have. There was nothing in the 
 catechism contrary to that. Indeed, it 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 LADY LOWATEk's COMPANION. 
 
 was a state of things which naturally re- 
 sulted upon correct and prudent conduct. 
 And beyond these rights was a somewhat 
 hazily defined margin of interests, some- 
 times wandering, without any proper geo- 
 graphical boundary, into the interests of 
 other people. Her interests, also. Miss 
 Pentmstle looked after in the same man- 
 ner as she looked after her rights, believ- 
 ing that they belonged to her just as 
 righteously. And if they ran counter to 
 those of other people, why, then the other 
 people must look after themselves. It was 
 a fair rule, so long as people allowed it to 
 work both Avays. And Miss Pentwistle 
 generally accomj)anied it in her own 
 thoughts with, the common-sense proverb, 
 Everyone for himself, and God for us 
 aU. 
 
 Also Miss Pentmstle knew that she by 
 no means filled up the measure of Lady
 
 LADY LOWATEr's COMP ANION. 307 
 
 Lowater's requirements in the matter of 
 (companionship. They 'got on,' as the 
 phrase is, very comfortably together, but 
 there was no more real affinity between 
 them than between so much copper and steel 
 dust which has been shaken up in a bottle 
 together for fifteen years. Let the magnet 
 come, and the steel-dust will straightway 
 gather to it, with no sense of regret at the 
 loss of the copper comjDanionship. Nor 
 perhaps would the copper mourn, unless 
 the change of relationship caused it to be 
 emptied out of the l)ottle altogether. 
 
 Now Miss Pentwistle could not help 
 suspecting that Lady Lowater and Valence 
 Dormer had too much of the nature of 
 magnet and steel about them. Valence 
 was a girl who gave off a certain amount 
 of force and vitality to those who could 
 receive it from her. There was, as Lady 
 Lowater said, an atmosphere about her in 
 
 X 2
 
 308 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 
 
 which some people breathed more freely^ 
 and others found it very difficult to get on 
 at all. For herself, she was obliged to 
 confess she belonged to the latter class. In 
 Miss Dormer's presence she could not ex- 
 press herself with comfort. What she 
 said did not seem to be received according 
 to its value. She might almost say that 
 the young lady seemed to shake it off just 
 as one shakes off thistledown, either with 
 indifference or impatience, according as 
 the garment to which it attaches itself 
 happens to be smooth or rough. Some- 
 times Miss Dormer would listen quietly, 
 that was when the garment was smooth. 
 Sometimes she would coolly pick off and 
 scatter the thistledown away, that was 
 when the garment, or call it temper, if you 
 like — for Miss Dormer had a temper — was 
 rough. But either way it was disposed of, 
 with no sort of respect in the disposition.
 
 LADY LOWATER's COMPANION. 301) 
 
 NoAV, with Lady Lowatcr things were 
 quite diiferent. She never seemed to be 
 in the least degree ruffled or offended by 
 Miss Dormer's independent manner of re- 
 eeiving other people's opinions. Indeed, 
 she rather seemed to like it. It was quite 
 curious to see the interest witli which she 
 would listen to the young girl's openly 
 expressed contradiction in matters relating 
 tc) her own department of Avork, and in- 
 deed to any other, Miss Dormer being a 
 person who had notions of her own about 
 most things. Perhaps Lad}- LoAvater liked 
 it by way of contrast. Possibly she her- 
 self, anxious to do her duty, had been too 
 yielding, too read}' to give up her own 
 will. She had made it her business, ever 
 since she came to the Court, to avoid dis- 
 cussions and collisions of any kind, and so 
 far she must say she had succeeded admir- 
 ably, thinking all the while she was doing
 
 310 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 both herself and her kclyship a service by 
 ignoring topics uj)on which there might be 
 a difference of opinion. Bnt now she began 
 to think she might have been a better friend 
 to herself at any rate, by a little whole- 
 some contradiction, seeing how very plea- 
 santly it Avas taken when administered by 
 Miss Dormer. 
 
 To see the influence, too, which that 
 girl was beginning to have over a woman 
 generally so cold and uninterested. How 
 she seemed to be draAving out Lady Lo- 
 water's affections, how a quite new expres- 
 sion, an almost motherly tenderness, would 
 come sometimes over the hard haughty 
 face when Valence Dormer was near. 
 
 Motherly. Ah, that was the point. 
 That brouoht Miss Pentwis tie's thouo^hts 
 back to a whole brood of unpleasant possi- 
 bilities. 
 
 Sir Merrion, a social, genial, impulsive
 
 LADY LOWATErx's COMPANION- 311 
 
 young man as everyone knew him to be, 
 home in three weeks' time from a foreign 
 station where }'oung ladies Avere as scarce 
 as roses in the month of April, thrown into 
 intimate companionship ^\ith. a piquant 
 girl like A^alence Dormer, and not only so, 
 but Anth a previous" acquaintance, made 
 under the most promising conditions, to 
 start from — why, an}' sensible person might 
 tell what would come of it. A marriage, 
 of course. 
 
 And how about the companionship 
 then? Equally of course it would be 
 done awa}' with. For the doAvager Lad}' 
 LoAvater Avould Avant no one else to keep 
 her company Avhen there Avas a bright 
 young girl in the house ; one, too, Avho 
 could balance accounts and manage a 
 Avhole regiment of servants. 
 
 Miss PentAAristle folded up her serviette 
 and AA^ent into the draAAing-room.
 
 312 LADY LOWATEr's COMPANION. 
 
 Lady Lowater was in the cliair asleep. 
 Yes, really asleep, for her hands were still, 
 and there Avas the quietest smile upon her 
 face, as though pleasant thoughts had been 
 the last to visit her. Could they have 
 been thoughts of Valence Dormer and 
 Merrion ? 
 
 Miss Pentwistle did not go to sleep at 
 idl that afternoon. 
 
 END Ob' THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUbF.
 
 l^vX 
 
 
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