a I B RARY OF THE U N IVLR5ITY or ILLINOIS 823 Hi223h V.I The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which It was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN I L161— O-1096 A HERO'S WORK. VOL. I. A HERO'S WORK. BY MRS. DUFFUS HARDY, AUTHOE OF "A CASUAL ACQUAINTANCE," &c. &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISFIERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1868. The right of Translation is reserved. LONDON : PRINTED BY MAODONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE, BLENHEIM STREET, OXFORD STREET. 8^5 V. 1 A. HERO'S ^V^ORK CHAPTER I. THE STEPMOTHER. " No, be assured, you shall not fiud me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, Evil ey'd unto you." HE Rectory of Crofton lay bathed in the pleasant sunshine of a bright spring ■V morning. Flowers seemed to send forth addi- £ tional fragrance, perfuming the air with their spirit ^ of purity and perfection, even as they scented the t? 3 air of Paradise so many ages ago. Birds warbled c Z merrily their songs of love and content, and the ^^ y^ skylark darted towards heaven, pouring out his (^ "full heart in profuse strains of unpremeditated ^ art ;" the higher he soared, the more energetically 3 he sang. VOL. I. B 2 A Hero's Work. All without the Rectory doors was peace and joy — within them was bustle and expectation ; for the Rector and his newly-married wife were to arrive in the course of the day. Aunt Jane, the Rector's maiden sister, who had come down from London to set things in order, made a tour, for the twentieth time, through the whole house. When she had quite satisfied herself that every- thing was in proper order, ready for the new mis- tress, she took out her knitting, and sat down quietly near the drawing-room window, to await the expected arrivals, and think over the expedi- ency of second marriages. Grace Carlton, a bright-eyed brunette of about seventeen, seated herself at her aunt's feet, in an evident state of discontent and irritation. She sat idly turning over the leaves of a book, now and then casting an impatient glance across the meadows, boding and dreading the advent of her father's second choice. Her sister Lena opened the window, and stepped out upon the gravel walk, look- ing as sweet and fresh as the May morning itself. The Step-Mother. 3 Few could see Lena Carlton without a feeling of atti^action towards her ; even the slight expres- sion of disquietude that now shaded her face per- haps added to her loveliness. Her eyes, " too expressive to be blue, too lovely to be grey," were tender, trusting, and true ; they beamed with a soft light, which a painter would find it difficult to portray ; and even her hair — that mute orna- ment that God has given to woman — had a mar- vellous expression in every rippling wave. It was of that light yellow tinge the Venetian artists loved to paint, and which the Emperor Constan- tine, with more than a woman's vanity, degraded himself by falsely wearing. If Lena Carlton's eyes and hair were perfection, the critics would not pronounce so decidedly upon the shape of her nose. It was neither aquiline, Grecian, Koman, nor retrousse, but what is sometimes called a " sensible nose." However defective it might have been as a separate feature, her face would have suited no other, and no one ever felt inclined to find fault with it. Her mouth was exquisitely B 2 4 A Hero's Work. formed — the upper lip sliort and curved, with a world of meaning. Had Titian seen her, he would have been inclined to paint another Venus. Lena looked across the meadow towards the road that skirted it, along which her father, with his new wife, was to pass, and an involuntary sigh escaped her. She desired to receive affec- tionately her new mother, but she feared the remembrance of the one she had lost would create in her heart a feeling of dislike and distrust towards the new-comer, rather than that of welcome. As she walked slowly up and down the gravel walk, she paused occasionally at the drawing-room window to exchange a few words with her aunt or sister. The elder lady endeavoured to impress her nieces with a higher sense of duty than they seemed to possess. " It's no use talking. Aunt Jane," said Lena, stepping into the room ; " they say every house has its skeleton — ours comes in the shape of a stepmother." The Step-Mother. 5 " Yes," rejoined Grace ; " but most people can keep their skeleton out of sight — we shall never be quit of ours, unless we are sleeping ; it will be the torment of our lives. I can't think what papa could have been dreaming of when he determined to bring a strange woman here to head the table, rule the house, and scold us girls, as, of course, she will. She shall not rule me, though, that I'm determined !" Here Grace curled her lip, and threw herself back in her chair, with all the dignity of her seventeen years. "I am quite grieved to hear you speak so un- dutifully of your father, Grace," replied her aunt, with some severity. " Even if he had committed the most imprudent act, it is not your place to censure it." " I can't help it," said Grace, half crying, " it is such a great and sudden change; everything will be so different now — home will never be like home again. A new mistress always causes a revolution in every way — what will not a new 6 A Hero's Work. mother do? I am sure papa will never be the same kind father to us now as he was be- fore." "You have no right to suppose that he will change, unless, indeed, your own ungracious man- ners cause his affection to cool, or his authority to hold stronger sway. Of course he cannot coun- tenance the rude or disrespectful behaviour of his children to his wife. Your deportment to her will greatly influence his bearing towards you. I am sure he will appreciate any kind attention of yours to his new-married wife ; and if you exhibit any symptoms of disrespect or dislike to her, he will acutely feel it, if not resent it." She paused a moment, then, drawing Grace towards her, added affectionately — "Don't think me hard-hearted, Gracie darling, or fancy that I do not sympathise with you, for indeed I do sincerely. I know it is a trying occasion for all — for him, for her, as well as for you. I hardly know which to pity most ; but remember this, if anything goes wrong, the world will be all on your side ; this knowledge The Step-Mother. ■ 7 ought to make you doubly careful not to win undue sympathy for yourself, or cast undeserved blame on her." "You weigh everything in the scales of justice, Aunt Jane," said Lena. " It is easy to chalk out the path of duty, but a very difficult matter to keep in it. For my part, I almost agree with Grace, it will be a hard task to behave even politely to Mrs. Carlton — we remember mamma too well ; it will be bitter, very bitter, to see another take her place. In a strange house, perhaps, we might not feel it quite so much ; but here her memory seems to linger round everything — indeed, while we are living amongst the same things that surrounded her, I don't quite feel as if we had lost her. Sometimes I even fancy I see her going about the house in her old sweet way. Now a stranger is to take her place. There is her picture, too — it has always stood there in sight — her eye seems to follow us, sometimes smiling, sometimes looking sad, as I fancy it is looking now, as if she knew she was in her grave forgotten. 8 A Hero's Work. Now I suppose it will be turned to the wall." Lena's heart swelled, and her eyes filled with tears, as they lingered regretfully on the life-like portrait of her dead mother. Her thoughts wan- dered back to that day when the grave had closed over her. She remembered it all so well — the closed shutters, the silent house, and black, black everywhere ; the subdued sobs that seemed to thrill through the whole household, as the dark pall fluttered down the oak staircase, and the bearers descended with their dull funereal tramp, that seemed to wound the ear, and tread upon some sensitive nerve at every step. All this was long ago, but it seemed to have happened only yester- day. Lena was silent for awhile. Feelings deeper than sorrow, fiercer than anger, seemed at war within her. At last, dashing the tears away, she said abruptly, " It is no use talking, aunt — if an angel were to come down from heaven to take my mother's place I should hate her with all my heart !" " You are both unreasonable and unjust," re- The Step-Mother, 9 monstrated Aunt Jane ; " an injustice to the living can do no honour to the dead. I neither wish nor expect you to receive Mrs. Carlton as though you loved her — that would be unnatural — almost impossible. I only ask you to receive her with the respect due to your father's wife, and judge her by the light of truth and justice. Bear with her faults, Lena, if you expect her to bear with yours." " Well, I'll try," replied Lena, with an effort ; " but the very name of a stepmother brings a bad odour with it." " Hush ! here they are !" exclaimed Grace, springing to her feet, as a carriage drove briskly round the gravelled way, and stopped at the hall-door. The usual bustle and stir ensued ; the whole household was on the alert to catch a glimpse of the new mistress. Lena and Grace had always sprung forward to meet their father before he had crossed the threshold. Now a feeling of nervous trepidation seized them. They knew they ought 10 A Hero's Work. not to keep back ; they could not venture to go forward; they felt as if their father, their own kind father, had grown a stranger to them ; they were shy and awkward at the idea of meeting him. However, when they heard his old genial voice in the hall, they conquered their timidity, threw open the drawing-room door, and in a moment were in his arms. He was always kind and gentle, but there was something touchingly tender in his caresses now, as he kissed them again and again ; there was an eloquence in the expression of his eye, as well as in the tone of his voice, that seemed to assure them of his unchanged love. Lena met his look, and understood it well — indeed, at that moment, she felt it w^ould be as impossible as cruel for a stranger to stand between her and her father's heart. Mrs. Carlton stood back till the first w^armth of the meeting had sub- sided ; then, with a winning, graceful manner, she came forward and embraced the two girls, calling each by name, in a way that showed they must have been the subject of frequent conversation. The Step-Mother, 11 Her ready tact saved Mr. Carlton the rather unpleasant task of introducing her to his daugh- ters. She had silently noticed the free, unre- strained affection which seemed to come warm and fresh from their hearts, and told, more plainly than words could have done, that perfect confi- dence, as well as perfect love, existed between them. As she looked on the eloquent faces of her husband and his children, she inwardly resolved that no false note of her playing should bring dis- cord into the harmony of the household. She drew Lena to her side, and kissed her fore- head, saying in a sweet tone — " You must try and love me a little — I have already learnt to love you much from your father's painting." Lena lifted her head, and fixed her eyes on Mrs. Carlton's face. She might have been forty years old, she might have been much less, or even a little more ; but she was one of those picturesque women whose age is a matter of indifference. She had a fine Spanish-looking face, with clear grey 12 A Ileros Work. eyes, thoughtful, and softened by an expression of gravity, as though she had known some great sorrow, and had learned to live it down. She bore evident marks of the great battle of life, which she had fought out bravely ; combating day by day with a host of carking cares and petty troubles ; but she had conquered them all, and buried them, as in old Continental cities they bury their dead and cover their graves with flowers. When Edward Carlton came to her, and asked her to take a place in his household, and renews — so far as maturity can renew — the dreams of their youth, she had not courage to say " No." As Lena looked upon Mrs. Carlton's face, heard her pleasant voice, and felt the warm pressure of her hand, she was softened ; and for a second for- got her resolution to hate her dreaded stepmother. The skeleton that was to mar the happiness of their future lives, came in a very pleasant guise — indeed, it seemed no skeleton at all ; and Lena felt that if Mrs. Carlton had been somebody else's stepmother, she could have loved her at sight. The Step-Mother, 13 As it was, she submitted to her affectionate greet- ing with a better grace than she could have be- lieved herself capable of an hour ago. Grace was taciturn and observant ; she spoke when spoken to, not else ; she had determined that none of Mrs Carlton's winning ways should make her regard her in any other light than as an in- truder, and the common enemy of the house ; she felt herself aggrieved at Lena's evident impression in favour of the stepmother. The evening passed away more pleasantly than perhaps might have been expected under existing circumstances. Once Mrs. Carlton looked intently on Lena's face, and said, " You are very like your mother — at least, like what she was at your age." " Why, did you know my mother, then ?" ex- claimed Lena, with unqualified surprise. " Yes ; we were girls together." "How strange!" said Lena. "Mamma was fond of talking of her girl companions, but I never heard her speak of you !" 14 A Hero's Work. " No," said Mrs. Carlton, and there was a world of meaning in the utterance of that one word " no." A grave shadow crossed her face, as though she were not inclined to say any more upon the subject, and was sorry she had even said so much. It was no wonder that Lena had never heard her mother speak of Christina Creswick ; if she had spoken of her at all, she must have told a tale of treachery and wrong, wherein she was the chief actor, and Christina a life-long sufferer. It is perhaps fortunate that parents have the liberty of keeping their own secrets out of sight of their children. If the father's indiscretions and little peccadilloes were exposed to the son, the most re- spectable middle-aged parent, in spite of his wise homilies and prudent precepts, might lose some portion of his son's esteem. As for the mother — well, a mother's name, though laden with all the follies of unguided, wilful youth, is still sacred. After Mrs. Carlton's significant " no," there was a momentary silence. She, however, adroitly The Step-Mother. 15 shifted the conversation, and they talked of other matters. There was much to be said and told on all sides ; for Mr. Carlton had been absent from the Rectory at least four months. Presently Grace exclaimed abruptly, " By-the-bye, papa, have you heard or seen any- thing of Laurence lately ?" A cloud came over Mr. Carlton's face, as he an- swered — *' Yes, Grace ; I hear of him too often. I wish to Heaven I heard less, or else heard better . news." The girls fixed their eyes upon their father's face, but asked no questions ; they feared to hear ill news of Laurence, and they did not wish his faults to be told in Mrs. Carlton's hearing. He was their brother — their only brother, and they loved him dearly ; they were proud of his good looks and his gay careless manner ; his cheery laugh and merry jokes always brought a fresh in- fluence into the quiet life at the Rectory. They could not understand how much his idle extrava- 16 A Hero's Work. gances, and the loose dissipated habits of his life, grieved their father's heart. They admitted the general fact that " Laurence was a little too gay ;" but they could not fathom the depth of meaning that was hidden beneath the simple words, *' a little too gay." Hence it happened that they thought their father often harsh, and sometimes unkind, to his only son. Mr. Carlton understood his daughter's inquiring eyes, and answered, " Yes, Grace, it is no use mincing the matter — Laurence is coming home again in disgrace. I have a letter here from Messrs. West and Graham, in which they regret ' ray son's incapacity for business.' I know what that means," he added, bitterly. *^ Of course they cannot tell me that my son is an idle reprobate. We shall have him home in three weeks !" There was bitterness and disappointment in Mr. Carlton, as he spoke thus of his only son — that son to whose manhood he had looked forward with yearning hopes and lofty expectations. He The Step-Mother, 17 loved his daughters, but he would fain have been proud of his son. He had tried to carve out for him an upright, honourable career ; but the boy was wild and wayward ; he would go his own road, not caring whither it led. The thorns and bram- bles which beset his path were trodden down, regardless of the wounds and pains they occasioned. Every step he took was in the wrong direction, and left some foul stain upon his track, until he had trampled out every vestige of hope or expecta- tion from his father's heart. Mr. Carlton was weighed down by a dread of some undefined and inevitable disgrace from his son. The frailties of Laurence Carlton became like a haunting presence at the Rectory, flushing his father's cheek w^ith shame for the present, and with fear of what the future might bring. VOL. I. 18 CHAPTER II. MRS. CARLTON. She is a woman, good without pretence, Bless'd with plain reason and with sober sense ; No conquests she but o'er herself desired, No arts essayed but not to be admired ; So unaffected, so composed a mind, So firm, yet soft ; so strong, yet so refined." HE next morning Mrs. Carlton was up with the lark, anxious to inspect her new home, and take a look at the surrounding country by daylight. ^' Was it much changed ? " she wondered, for it was now more than twenty vears since she had left Crofton. She went into her dressing-room, threw open the window, and looked out. For some years past she had lived amid the gaieties of Naples, Mrs, Carlton, 19 and the sudden change from that luxurious and enervating capital to this quiet, rural home in England, was refreshing and grateful to her. The aspect of the scenery around her was soft and tranquil in the extreme ; some of the trees were laden with bloom, which covered their boughs like a drapery of snow ; others were just putting forth their young green leaves, their different tints harmonizing beautifully with the pink and white blossoms, charming to the eye, and cheering to the soul. Mrs. Carlton sat some time, leaning her cheek upon her hand, and looking out on the fair landscape before her. She had sojourned long in those Southern lands, whose balmy breezes have so often been the theme of the poet's song; but she thought she had never felt the air so soft and pure as that which now breathed upon her. In the distance, she could just dis- tinguish the outline of the Manor House, her old home, where Edward Carlton *^came a-woo- ing" to her, nearly five-and-twenty years ago. c2 20 A Hero's Work. Five-and-twenty years! — when looking forward they had seemed like an eternity ; but looking back upon them now, they seemed no more than as many days. A mist gathered before her eyes, as they rested on the well-remembered home — her thoughts flew back, and revelled for a time in the golden hours of her youth. It seemed strange that things should be as they were now — that Edward Carlton should be Rector of Crofton, and she the stepmother of his grown- up daughters ! The reflection brought all her thoughts back to the present — she passed her hand across her brow, as though she could so sweep away the memories that were crowding her brain with pictures of former days. She wondered if any of her old acquaintances were still living at Crofton. Her girl companions, she knew, were scattered far and wide — not one remained in the old place — some were lying at rest in the church- yard. She felt grateful, and lifted her heart in thankfulness, that she had been spared to be his wife, his companion, his comforter in the down- Mrs. Carlton. 21 ward path of life. She was satisfied, more than satisfied, content and happy that it should be so. Falsehood and misconstruction had parted them in their youth — she felt that their union was calmer and purer now. Their old love was changed, but it was love still, devoted and now unchangeable, combining more of romance with reality than any pair of unfledged lovers can readily conceive. Indeed, Mrs.Carlton felt ashamed of the enthusiastic admiration she still retained for her husband. In the old times he had been considered one of the handsomest men of his day ; though he was now^ near fifty, he was hand- some still — at least, she thought so. His hair, once dark brown, was now iron grey ; but it still clustered in thick curls above his high, intellectual forehead. It had always been difficult to deter- mine the true colour of his eyes — some said they were grey, some blue, and some green ; they might have had a tinge of all three, for certainly their colour seemed to vary with their expression. His complexion had that rich, ruddy tinge which so • 22 A Hero's Work. often characterizes a man In the autumn of life, and stamps him, as it were, with the seal of the season. He was tall and stalwart in make, and, altogether, a fine type of strong, healthy manhood. As for Mrs. Carlton, I should like to give my readers some notion of her, in order that they may identify her face and figure with her words and actions, as she moves through these pages. I always considered Mrs. Carlton as one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Hers was a beauty quite independent of the colouring and roundness of youth, for she was certainly over forty, and the beauty that lasts till then must be of the highest kind. Some very lovely girls are faded at five-and-twenty, because their charm has consisted only in the freshness, the tints, and colouring of youth, which soon pass away, like the summer glory of a flower. Mrs. Carlton was above the ordinary height of women, but at her age that was decidedly an advantage, for it gave a stately dignity to her graceful carriage. She had Mrs. Carlton. 23 large grey eyes, more clear and steady than sparkling; and though soft, resolute, as though she knew how to enforce her will. Her hair was long, dark, and glossy. Time had touched her lightly; the only traces he left of his progress were small bunches of silvery hair upon her temples ; but they were hidden beneath her rich, luxuriant braids. There was a nameless grace about Mrs. Carlton, an inexpressible charm, which surrounded her like an aerial atmosphere ; where - ever she moved, she seemed to bring harmony and peace. There was something so genial in her presence, that when she was absent you missed her as you would miss warmth or sunlight. She was a good specimen of an English gentlewoman. Being easy herself, she made everybody else at ease ; whatever she did, or whenever she spoke, she seemed to do, or say the right thing to the right person at the right time. The first thing that caught her eye on entering the breakfast-room was a bunch of fresh dewy violets, lying by her plate at the head of the table. 24 A Hero's Work. " How lovely ! — how very delicious !" she ex- claimed, bending over them, and inhaling the deli- cate perfume. "I am glad you like them," said Lena, coming forward from the bay-window, where, half hidden by the thick folds of the curtain, she had been sitting reading. '*I got up early, and gathered them the first thing in the morning," she added ; " they grow in clusters down in the hollow." " How kind of you to think of me !" said Mrs. Carlton, bending once more over the flowers ; and this time their fragrance seemed to enter her heart ; then, turning to Lena, she folded her in a warm, affectionate embrace, saying — " Dear Lena, I can hardly tell you how much pleasure this delicate attention gives me." " I am so glad you are pleased," replied the young girl, blushing. " It seems as though you wished to welcome me with your heart as well as with your lips," con- tinued Mrs. Carlton, adding, after a moment's pause, caressingly : " Do you know, I almost Mrs. Carlton, 25 dreaded comlnp; home to Crofton ? It would be very painful to be disliked by my husband's chil- dren ; but now that I have seen you, I am quite happy. I think we shall understand one an- other." It was impossible to resist the winning grace of Mrs. Carlton's manner. Lena felt flushed and uncomfortable as she remembered the words she had spoken, and the determination she had held only yesterday. It was all changed now ; she could not help it. She cast a shy glance on the serene face above her, and answered nervously — " Yes, I think — I — I am sure we shall." " You must not think that I have come to rob you of one atom of your father's love, Lena ; his affection for me can in no wise lessen his love for you ; his happiness must be our mutual care ; the peace and comfort of home will rest with you now as much as ever it did." While they were talking, Mr. Carlton and Grace came in from the garden. Grace bowed with a shy girlish air to Mrs. Carlton, and, without 26 A Ileros Work. approaching near enough to take her hand, or receive the kiss her stepmother was quite ready to bestow upon her, she took her accustomed seat at table. " Why, Lena," said Mr. Carlton, " Grace and I have been looking for you everywhere, for I saw, or thought I saw, you go into the shrubbery an hour ago." *"' So I did," she answered. " I went down as far as the hollow to gather these violets for " — she hesitated ; it was difficult at first to pronounce the name, but she did at last — " for Mrs. Carl- ton." The gratified smile that played upon her father's face more than repaid her for the trouble she had taken. Aunt Jane, as we shall call her, to save the confusion of names, breakfasted in her own room, being in rather delicate health. Mrs. Carlton at once took her place at the head of the table, as though she had been accustomed to do the honours of the house. It seemed quite natu- ral to see her there ; her bright face, and lively Mrs, Carlto7i, 27 ■way of conversing, even on the most trivial mat- ters, diffused a cheerful spirit round her. Grace devoted herself entirely to her father. She watched to hand him his tea and toast, or any- thing else he wanted, seeming determined that nobody except herself should do anything for him, if she could help it. " By-the-bye, papa," she said, " we quite forgot to tell you that the Manor-house is let at last." "I'm very glad to hear it, my dear," he answered. *' Do you know who our new neigh- bours are to be ?" " Well, we don't exactly know ; but they say in the village that it is a widow lady, a French Mar- chioness ; but we shall soon know all about her, for she takes possession to-morrow ; heaps of fur- niture have been sent down already." " I wonder if she has any daughters ?" said Lena. " If she has, they will be such nice com- panions for us ; we could take long walks to- gether ; it would be a good opportunity to practise our French, too." 28 A Hero's Work " I don't see that you are in want of compan- ions," said Grace, pettishly ; " you have always got me to walk with ; but I dare say you'll like a change." "I did not say they would be companions for me,'' replied Lena, gently — " I said us. We all like a little fresh society now and then, and i/ou are always complaining that Crofton is so dull." " So it is," said Grace. " I wonder if they'll give balls and parties ? — if they do, I shall like them well enough. I suppose they'll bring lots of new fashions from Paris ?" " I am sure I hope not," said Mr. Carlton, " or we shall have all the village running wild again. It was quite dreadful," he added, addressing his wife, " wdien you ladies first took to wearing steel petticoats, to walk through the village and see the spirit of imitation among the people; at every turn you met the labourer's wives and daughters, with the hoops of butter-firkins and beer-barrels pinned under their skirts. It is curious to observe Mrs. Carlton, 29 the effect which the example of the upper classes has upon the lower ; no matter whether it be in manners, morals, or in dress. I am afraid my girls are themselves too fond of show and glitter to h^ve any wholesome effect upon their poorer neighbours. I do believe, Gracie," he added, smoothing the young girl's hair, and looking fondly on her face, " you would wear a coach and horses on your head if it was the fashion." " So I would, papa," she answered undauntedly. " Wouldn't you, Lena?" " Well," said Lena, half hesitating, but quite seriously, "I would if it was becoming — not else." " A very wise reservation," rejoined Mrs. Carl- ton ; " none but a perfectly tasteless person would ever become a blind follower of the fashion. All women like to look well, and to do that, it is neces- sary that each should study her own complexion and figure, and adopt that style which is most be- coming to herself, without reference to fashion. I don't, however, mean to say that a woman should 30 A Hero's Work. dress in such a way as to become singular ; I would not have her go into society with a helmet, spear, and shield, however Minerva-like or classical her style ; good taste will always approach near enough to the prevailing mode to avoid singularity or remark." " Well," said Grace, ^' I suppose we all have a weakness for something — at any rate, papa," she added saucily, " you have no right to lecture us, for you had a few little vanities of j^our own when you were a young man." She whispered some- thing in his ear, and then leaned back and laughed merrily. "For shame, Grace!" said her father, shaking his head with mock gravity ; " it is a very unfilial act to bring your old father's follies up in judg- ment against him." " Well, but it is true," she answered, laughing ; " you know you were anxious to get a pair of fine dark whiskers, and ive know what you did to get them !" " Yes," said Lena, joining in her sister's mirth. Mrs. Carlton. 31 " Oh, fie, papa ! I am sure, to look at you now, nobody would believe you had ever been guilty of such a thing ! Only fancy, tying up your face and going to bed in roasted cabbage leaves ! — and all for a pair of dark whiskers !" ^* Which you never got," added Grace. " I beg your pardon, young ladies," replied the Rector ; " for the space of twelve hours I exulted in the possession of a fine pair of jet black whis- kers ; then they turned rusty, then grey, then all colours, like a pheasant's tail, and I shaved them off." "A very proper result," said Mrs. Carlton, ^* and a fitting end to vanity." " Ah ! but I was young then, remember." " And we are young now, papa — please remem- ber that !" observed Grace, exultingly. "I must own, Edward," said Mrs. Carlton, " the girls have got the better of you. Seriously speaking, I have no doubt that young men commit even more follies than young women, for the sake of vanity or fashion." 32 A Hero's Work " Well, well, I see I am fairly beaten out of the field," said Mr. Carlton. "Henceforth I hope I shall stand as a melancholy warning to fathers, never to confide their follies and vanities to their children. But here comes the letter-bag," he added, as the gravel crackled under the feet of the postman. Mr. Carlton stretched out his hand, took the bag in at the window, and said smiling, " I've a great mind to punish you, for so merci- lessly exposing my follies, by intercepting all your correspondence for the next six months." " If you did, we would manage to be even with you," said Grace, with a saucy laugh. " I would trust your woman's wit for that," re- plied her father, as he unlocked the letter-bag, and emptied it of its contents. His eye at once lighted on one directed to himself, in a large, firm, manly hand. " Ah ! here's one from Archie ! " he ex- claimed. " Archie " was evidently a favourite, for Grace caught up the words and repeated them. " From Archie ! Oh ! I am so glad. He Mrs, Carlton. 33 writes so seldom now, that 1 am sure he is trying to forget us as hard as he can." Lena's quick eye had caught sight of Archie's handwriting before her father's did— she knew it well. Every morning, when the postman's tread was heard upon the gravel walk, her pulse quick- ened, and she wondered, " Was there a letter from Archie?" If there was none, her heart sank, and she felt sick with disappointment ; but she never uttered her hope or her disappointment aloud, as Grace did. Now, as soon as her eye fell upon the superscription of the letter, she rose, walked to the window, and began to chirp to her goldfinch, giving him a sprig of water- cress. Meanwhile, Mr. Carlton read his letter. Grace, with one arm flung round his neck, peeped over his shoulder, so anxious was she to learn the contents. "Saturday!" she exclaimed, eagerly; "why, that's the day after to-morrow, papa. That is good news ! Do you hear, Lena ?'* VOL. I. P 34 A Ileros Work. Lena did hear, and came slowly towards the table, that she might hear more. " Archie has got his captaincy," said Grace ; " and is ordered off to join his regiment on the — let me see, what does he say? — on the 15th of next month ; but he will steal time to run down and pay a parting visit to dear old Crof- ton." " Archie off to the Crimea ! — what do you think of thatf said Mr. Carlton. " That he will make a brave soldier, and come back a hero," replied Lena, while a deep flush suffused her face. " I wonder whether he will wear his uniform down here ! " exclaimed Grace. " I hope he will, for he looks so handsome in it !" While Grace chattered on to Lena, Mr. Carlton was talking to his wife in an under-tone ; no doubt he was explaining to her who Archibald Dundas was ; for presently he turned to his daugh- ters, saying — " Now, girls, take care that Archibald has his Mrs. Carlton. 35 own room ; and mind that everything is there just as it used to be. I should like him to carry away a pleasant recollection of his old home in England. Now I am going into my study, and I daresay I shall not leave it till dinner-time; for I have been such a run-away, that I fear I shall find my business sadly in arrear." " I think I shall go over to the school," said Grace, languidly ; for whenever she felt disin- clined to do anything, she invariably went down to the village school to hear the children read and spell, which is equivalent to doing nothing. 1)2 36 CHAPTER III. THE HERO. " When mirth shines on his face, 'Tis like the sunlight on an axe's blade, Brightening, but softening not. For one so young, Ne'er saw I brow so hard, or heart so cold." ELL, young ladles," exclaimed Mrs. Carlton, as she entered the room dressed for walking, early on Saturday, the day Captain Dundas was expected, " are you inclined for a ramble over St. Anne's Hill ? It is a de- licious morning, and so many years have elapsed since I left Crofton, that I long to revisit some of my old haunts once more. Come, Lena — Grace ? " " No, thank you," replied Grace — " I hate walking. I never go out unless I have some par- ticular object in view." The Hero. 37 " But I hope we shall have some particular object in view at every step we take," said Mrs. Carlton, smiling good-humouredly. " I think it is impossible for those who have eyes to wander through our sweet green lanes, especially in spring-time, without finding something to admire — some food for thought and healthful meditation. I love to see the bright buds and unfolding leaves, which are so soon to cover the bare boughs with grace and beauty. The violet hiding under the hedge, the crimson borders of the modest little daisies, the glittering dew-drops trembling among the leaves — have they not all their charm ? I think, if you understand the language of nature (and it is well worth studying), you must learn some beautiful and instructive lesson every time you look upon her face. I am a bit of a botanist myself," she added, smiling, " so, if you will put on your hats, we will try to find something inter- esting to see and talk about in our ramble over the hills." " Oh ! I shall enjoy it above all things," 38 A Hero's Work, said Lena, rising with alacrity — " come, Grace." "I don't feel inclined to go out," answered Grace, irresolutely. " I can amuse myself much better at home." " You had better come," said Mrs. Carlton — " I am sure it would do you more good to be out this lovely morning than " She left her sentence unfinished — perhaps she thought it would be injudicious to say more ; so she merely glanced at the book Grace held in her hand. Grace understood her meaning quite well, and her mind was made up. " Do come," said Lena once more. "No, thank you — I prefer reading," she an- swered, as she curled herself up on a corner of the sofa, dropped her head over her book, and in a second seemed buried in its contents. Lena went up to her sister, and bending caressingly over her, whispered something softly in her ear. Grace jerked her head aside, and said impatiently — " Let me alone — I do not interfere with you. The Hero, 39 and I am not going to be taken out for a walk, as though I had just left the nursery." Presently, however, when she heard Mrs. Carl- ton's cheerful voice and Lena's musical laugh blending together as they descended the stairs, she half repented her resolution, and wished she had been going with them. She listened to their footsteps as they crossed the garden, and let loose the house-dog, to accompany them in their ram- ble. She got up, and peeped through the win- dow, saw their light dresses fluttering down the lane, and heard their voices, and the joyous bark of old Carlo, as he bounded before them. Grace felt irritated, and threw her book upon the table ; she did not in reality want to read, but she would not be compelled to go out, especially with, or by, Mrs. Carlton. She was angry, too, with Lena, for accepting the invitation of her stepmother, and leaving her at home alone. Now they were gone, she felt lonely, and tor- mented herself with the idea that she was already beginning to be neglected. One thought after 40 A Hero's Work, another crowded upon her, until she worked her- self up into such a state of excitement and tem- per, that tears of vexation welled into her eyes. She had resolved to make a stand against Mrs. Carlton's influence, and hoped that Lena would have joined with her in a general revolt. Now she was disappointed and annoyed to find that in the short space of two days all Lena's resolutions were overcome, and, worse than all, that she even seemed to take a pleasure in trying to please this odious stepmother, whom they had both resolved to detest. She had not been long left to herself, when Mr. Carlton came in to look for a book; he seemed surprised at seeing her there. " Why, Grace, my gipsy ! how is it you are not out this bright morning ?" "I — I have got a headache, papa, and I don't feel well; so I preferred staying at home." What a sad habit this kind of fibbing is ! j^et people, sometimes even the most conscientious, The Hero, 41 seem to fall into it naturally. Those who would be shocked at the shadow of a " white lie," will unhesitatingly put forward a headache or an attack of indigestion, as a screen for a fit of ill- humour. Alas ! how often is a headache pleaded to hide a heart-ache or a temper-ache ! Mr. Carlton saw in a moment how matters stood ; he could quite understand his children disliking the introduction of a new mistress into the house, and resolved to make every allowance for any little ebullition of temper that might ensue, provided it did not become too apparent, and was not carried too far. ^' In time," he thought, " they will become re- conciled to the change, and grateful to me for giving them such a companion as Christina will be to them ; when they know her worth, they can- not fail to appreciate her." Mr. Carlton at once accepted Grace's plea of a headache ; and, drawing her affectionately towards him, said, "I am sorry you are not well, darling; you 42 A Hero's Work. shall come with me into my study, and lie on the sofa — there you can rest quietly ; or if you like to be useful, I will give you some letters to copy, and when we have done work, we will go down to the School. I should like to see what has been doing there during my absence." In the meanwhile, Mrs. Carlton and Lena pro- ceeded on their walk happily enough. As they passed through the village, many curious faces peeped through half-open doors or windows, an- xious to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Carlton, and to guess from her face, if they could, whether she was likely to be their friend or not ; for the Rector's wife is generally an important person in a country village, and plays a prominent part in the lives and history of the poorer population. Mrs. Carlton and Lena looked in at the School- house as they passed by, Mrs. Carlton being an- xious to inspect the arrangements, and see how they were carried out. She considered, and rightly, too, that a great part of her duty, as the clergyman's wife, lay among the children The Hero, 43 and the poor of the village. She found the school-mistress a comely, cheery-looking woman, and remained in conversation with her some little time, making numerous inquiries about the school and the scholars. Judging from the general character of her answers, and the few observations she volunteered on her own ac- count, Mrs. Carlton saw that the mistress was possessed of a kindly nature, with a tolerable amount of practical common-sense ; these ingre- dients assured Mrs. Carlton that she would be able to work well with her for the good of the children, who all looked clean, healthy, and happy. Soon after leaving the school-house, Mrs. Carl- ton and Lena entered into one of those long pleasant, winding lanes which abound in the rural districts of England. They went their way with light footsteps, pausing now and then to admire the graceful young ferns and wild flowers springing up beneath the hedges. Then they stooped to gather posies of primroses and 44 A He7'os Work, wild violets^ which Mrs. Carlton arranged and grouped together, so that each blossom not only showed its own grace of form and co- lour, but added by contrast to its neighbour's beauty. "There!" she exclaimed, holding them up in the bright sunlight; "what artist could ever imitate these exquisite colours and forms of nature ?" " Perhaps no artist could quite succeed in imi- tating them," said Lena ; " but many make the attempt, and produce most beautiful pictures notwithsta nding." " I have never seen one that has given me a grain of satisfaction ; but perhaps I am rather exigeant in my demands on Art ; I love nature so well that I cannot bear to look on a feeble representation of it — and all representations must be feeble. God painted the sky, the trees, and flowers, and how can man imitate his work ?" " What do you think of portrait-painting, then 1" The Hero. 45 said Lena ; " were you ever satisfied with the likeness of a friend ?" " No — I have never seen one that gave me even an idea of my real living friend ; and I never will possess the portrait of anyone I loved." " How very strange !" exclaimed Lena, looking at Mrs. Carlton with unqualified surprise ; " it seems to me that, when absence or death divides us from those we love, there must be some con- solation in possessing even a rude resemblance of them. It would keep them so constantly in our mind." " Your mind would retain them readily enough, without external aid," said Mrs. Carlton. " The forms and faces of those we have loved and lost, take their places in our memory like statues of saints in the niches of a holy temple ; we visit them when we will — to us they never die. We revisit old scenes, and live over the long past pleasures of our life again. Of all our faculties, memory seems to be the most blessed and wonder- ful; it is like a vast storehouse, where all the 46 A Heroes Work. treasures of our past lives are garnered up ; or a spiritual kingdom, inhabited by the shadows of departed friends, wherein no curious eyes can penetrate, nor even our best beloved gain a parting glimpse of its mysteries. I think Me- mory and Hope are our two most blessed com- panions." "Hope is indeed a pleasant companion," said Lena ; " but I think Memory is sometimes dis- agreeable, when it reminds ns of troubles and trials we would rather forget." '' I do not think that trials should be for- gotten," replied Mrs. Carlton ; " by remembering a past error, we may, if we are wise, avoid the like in the future. As for those sorrows and afflictions over which we have no control, they often come to us like angels, unaware, and are sent to purify our own souls, as well as to teach us to compassionate the sorrows of our neigh- bours ; none but those who have themselves suffered can fully comprehend the sufferings of others." The Hero. 47 " Well, I don't know," replied Lena, thought- fully ; " I suppose trouble, like everything else, affects people differently. I do not know any- thing as yet of real worldly troubles ; but I must say that those little irritating trials, which I do know, have anything but a soothing effect upon me. I daresay I am very wrong, but when I am unhappy, I feel discontented with everybody, and look upon everything with a gloomy spirit. It seems that I want all my sympathies and care for myself, and have none to spare for others." " I am afraid that is very commonly the case, especially with young, undisciplined spirits. But it seems to me that the trials which agitate our mental life are as necessary for its purification as are the storms and tempests which sweep through the atmosphere, to render it more clear and health- ful. Depend upon it, Lena dear, affliction has its uses, though we, in our short-sighted wis- dom, have not always the power to profit by it." 48 A Hero's Work. They slowly sauntered homeward over the hills, chatting pleasantly as they went along. The time had passed so quickly, that, on return- ing through the village, they were surprised to find how late it was. They overtook Mr. Carl- ton, on his way to the railway-station, to meet Captain Dundas. Lena willingly accepted his invitation to accompany him ; and Mrs. Carlton went on her way alone, thinking that, after all her fears, her time would pass happily with her husband's children. In due time Mr. Carlton and Lena returned home with their visitor. Archibald Dundas was a fine, soldier-like fellow, of about five or six and twenty; firmly, though slightly built ; he had that delicately fair complexion which is considered so beautiful in a woman; but being rarely seen in a man, might perhaps be thought effeminate. No one, however, could connect the idea of effeminacy with Captain Dundas. He had light silken hair, which clung in thick curls about his high mas- The Hero. 49 sive forehead; his features were good; his lips full, and shaded by a slight downy moustache. He had large, almond-shaped blue eyes, bright and sparkling, but clear, and cold as steel — at least, so Mrs. Carlton thought, as she spoke a few courteous words of welcome to him. They were evidently objects of curiosity to each other ; whilst their brief interchange of greetings lasted, they indulged in a mutual scrutiny, before they turned away. It needed no penetrating eye to discover that Captain Dundas was a kind of demi-god at the Rectory. Mr. Carlton loved him as a son — per- haps better than one ; for his own son, as we have stated, had grieved and disappointed him, while Archibald had done neither ; but Mr. Carlton forgot that where there is no control — no autho- rity exerted — no expectation raised — there may well be no disappointment. Although Mr. Carl- ton had been the guardian of Archibald Dundas, yet that young gentleman had been pretty well his own master. He was free to adopt what VOL. I. E 50 A Hero 6 Work, profession he chose ; he paid his own tailor's bills ; and his youthful follies or imprudencies never offended either Mr. Carlton's ear or eye ; Archi- bald took care of that. With Laurence Carlton, of course, it was different. His father wished to govern him as he governed the rest of his house- hold ; but the boy would not be governed, and rebelled hotly against any authority which his father endeavoured to exert over him. He might have been led, perhaps ; but one man rarely knows how to lead another, especially when he fancies he has a right to command. There is a sternness in the composition of most men which cannot bend to the winning and gentle ways by which women so often gain their will. A son rarely resists the pleading eloquence of a mother's voice, which is always a welcome mediator between the sterner natures of father and son. Mr. Carlton and Laurence never rightly under- stood one another ; and tlie brilliant, ever-active genius of Archibald Dundas came out in vivid contrast with the idle, careless nature of Laurence The Hero. 51 Carlton. Hence his boyish follies became greatly magnified in his father's eyes. As young men, one was a promising soldier, successful in all he undertook ; the other was an idle good-for- nought, who had been placed in half-a-dozen different ways of life, but could walk straight in none. It was, perhaps, no wonder that, as Mr. Carlton glanced on the handsome, gallant young soldier, his thoughts reverted despondingly to his own son. Mrs. Carlton saw at a glance the exact position that Archibald occupied in the family ; he was evidently the spoilt darling of them all. Eyes sparkled, lips smiled, and merry voices told him how rejoiced they were to receive him again at the Eectory. He appeared to be in nowise sur- prised or overcome by his reception ; he seemed quite accustomed to that kind of thing. The girls had a great deal of village gossip to tell him ; they vied with each other as to who should give him the most unexpected bit of news. It was very pleasant to see the bright, animated faces of E 2 I'NIVERSITY Oe 52 A Hero's Work. the little group ; to hear the light bursts of laughter, and touches of whimsical humour that interspersed the conversation. Mrs. Carlton could only throw in a remark occasionally, for the good folk, whose sayings and doings were freely brought under discussion, were quite strangers to her. She sat there quietly looking on, and taking mental notes of the characters of the trio, as unfolded in their observations and expressions. There was an acidity in Grace's disposition which vented itself in little tart sayings, not exactly ill- natured, but certainly far from amiable. Lena's playful vivacity invested with interest the humor- ous sketches she gave of the ^^ momentous events" that had happened among their neighbours since Archibald's last visit. Archibald said but little ; when he did speak, his voice, like the rich rolling tones of an organ, vibrated to the soul ; no matter how trifling the remark he made, he seemed to invest the most common subject with interest. When he became excited, which he did more than once during the conversation, his steel blue eyes The Hero. 53 flashed, like lightning leaping through summer clouds. In spite of his erect, soldierly bearing, there was an air of refinement — almost of languor — in his manner, which in any other man would have betokened more of the fashionable gentle- man than the warrior ; but there was an unmis- takeable something in the movement of every limb — in the turn of his head, in the tone of his voice, in the ominous gleam of his cold blue eye, which revealed the spirit of the hero, ready to leap forth like a lion when the time came for action. Mrs. Carlton had at first, wondered at the influence he exercised in her husband's family; but before many hours had passed, she was her- self attracted by his presence, and began to feel an interest in him, yet scarcely with any degree of liking. The day wore on ; they sauntered about the garden ; and after dinner the young ladies, with Captain Dundas for their escort, went into the village to execute some commissions for Mr. 54 A Heroes Work. Carlton. It was getting dusk when they re- turned ; they found the drawing-room deserted, and the lamps unlit. Lena complained of being tired ; so Archibald wheeled an easy-chair into the bay-window, brought the chess-board, and invited her to play a game of chess. Grace went to the piano, and began running over the keys, and playing snatches of melodies, wander- ing from one thing to another in a wild, dreamy fashion. The day was declining ; the whole western hemisphere was as a sea of light, where streaks of orange and purple flecks melted, as if by some heavenly alchemy, into liquid gold, in which the sun sank slowly down, flushing with his depart- ing glory the rosy, fleecy feathers of clouds that floated above, and lighting up the brows of the chess-players in the bay-window. Lena sat with one hand hovering over the chess-board, like a white bird, uncertain where to alight; the other supported her dimpled chin. An arch smile played upon her lips, and sparkled in her eyes, The Hero. 55 as they wandered over the chess-board ; at last she made her move, and, with a merry laugh, declared " Archie checkmated." He sat opposite to her, his strong classical beauty contrasting boldly with her gentle wo- manly grace. His eyes were fixed upon her face with an undisguised expression of intense admiration ; and when she laughingly proclaimed her victory, he seemed to awake as from a dream, and caught her hand, saying — "ilia belle, if you were my adversary, I should be content to be defeated every hour of my life." There was little in his words ; they were sucli as any man in his position might, and most likely would have spoken ; but it was the tone in which he uttered them that told his mean- ing; the light that kindled in his eyes was so warm and ardent, that his gaze seemed to pene- trate her soul, and weigh down her eyelids with mesmeric power. She could not meet his gaze — she felt it thrilling through every nerve. A 56 A Hero's Work. feeling of exquisite happiness stole over her, flushing her cheek and brow with crimson blushes, as he poured the eloquence of his soul into her ear. He drew her gradually nearer and nearer to him, till her fair head almost drooped upon his shoulder, as he told her in the softest, tenderest tones, how much he loved her — that he had loved her always. The wild melody Grace was playing added nothing to the music of his voice. Presently she stopped, and without rising from her seat, turned her head towards the window, saying — " What are you two doing there, Lena ? I am sure you can't see to play chess now." " No," Archibald hastened to reply ; " she is resting on her honours — she has defeated me entirely." " 1 don't believe it," replied Grace, decidedly ; "you will never bear defeat from man or woman either. If ever I play any game with you, I shall always make up my mind to lose." The Hero. 57 "You might be a winner and a loser at the same time," he answered ; " that sounds paradoxical, Grace, but it is quite true, never- theless." " Yes, if hearts were trumps ; but even then, I should be sorry to play with you, Archie — I fancy I might lose more than I should gain. Already you have won the hearts of half the old maids in the parish, and I don't believe you have given them a bit of yours in re- turn." "You are malicious, Gracie," he said, laugh- ing, "and I believe you are jealous because I have never offered it to you." " To me, indeed !" she answered with a saucy toss of the head. " I should not know what to do with it, except break it, perhaps, to save you the trouble of breaking mine, sir." As she spoke, she rose from the piano. "Don't rise, Grace," he said hastily; "'do play those variations over again — you have improved immensely since I last heard you !" 58 A Hero's Work. Nobody at the Rectory ever thoufrht of de- nying him anything ; so Grace instantly reseated herself, and recommenced playing. Presently the servants entered v^^ith lights and coffee. Grace played on as she had been commanded, and at last discovered that her audience had disappeared. There they were, pacing slowly up and down the terrace walk at the bottom of the garden. Lena, light, aerial, and spirit-like, with a white handkerchief thrown over her head ; Archibald towering at her side, and casting an occasional shadow over her. That night, before he slept, Mr. Carlton learnt why Archibald Dundas had paid this visit to Crofton. 59 CHAPTER IV. ENGAGED. • I here do give thee that with all my heart, Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee." APTAIN DUNDAS took Mr. Carlton quite by surprise when he proposed for Lena; he had never suspected that any- thing more than brotherly and sisterly affection existed between them ; but parents, fathers especially, are always more or less blind on such occasions. They stand by and see the seed sown, grown, and ripening, and when the time for the harvest has come, and love stands forth to gather its own fruit, they are amazed and wonder-stricken. 60 A Hero's Work. Archibald had said all he wished to say, and stood leaning a,f]jainst the mantel-piece, awaiting Mr. Carlton's decision. There was something uneasy and anxious in Archibald's look; although he knew he had conquered, yet he was anxious for the Rector to speak and tell him so. Mr. Carlton leaned his head upon his hand, and remained some moments thoughtful. Archi- bald grew somewhat irritated at his silence ; at last Mr. Carlton looked up, and said, " I hope you have not spoken to Lena ?" "Yes, I have — to tell you the truth, Guardy," he added, " I fancied her consent of more conse- quence than yours. I have spoken to her this evening." "I am sorry for it," said the Rector gravely, and a shadow crossed his face ; " I think you have done wrong. You ought not to have spoken to her on such a subject, and at such a time." '*' Why ?" exclaimed Archie carelessly ; " I Engaged, 61 came down for that express purpose, and for no other. You must have known that we always cared for each other ; and before I leave England, I wished to ascertain exactly how much she cared for me. I could not have gone away and left her free." "You are most selfish and inconsiderate to wish to leave her bound. Remember you are about to enter on a dangerous and probably a lengthy w^ar, from which you may never re- turn; it is not kind to carry away with you my child's best thoughts and feelings — to leave her spirit clouded with a double amount of hopes and fears for your sake. It is not wisely done, Archie — you ought to have spoken to me first; perhaps I might have been able to rea- son you out of this selfish folly. Now, if I refuse my consent, Lena may think me un- kind—if not cruel. I am sorry if I hurt you, Archie, but for the first time in my life I feel really angry with you." Hurt him ! Poor innocent Mr. Carlton, to 62 A Heros Work. think his mild reproach could wound such an iron spirit as that before him. His tone and his looks were far more reproachful than his words; all, however, fell upon Archibald Dun- das as the feathered shaft of an infant might fall upon the mailed breast of a warrior, and with about the same effect. A slight, almost imperceptible smile hovered round Archibald's mouth, as he said in his old boyish way, " I am heartily sorry if I have vexed you, Guardy; but as you have always treated me as a son, I did not think you would refuse to receive me as one." ^' Refuse to receive you 1" answered the Kector — " why, my dear boy, you must know that I cannot have a shadow of objection to you indivi- dually ; and when the right time comes, I shall be better pleased to have you for my son than any other. I only think you have chosen the wrong season to propose yourself. This is no time to think of love or marriage, Archie, when you have so many grave cares and duties before you." Engaged, 63 " That is the very reason why I have spoken," replied Archie. " The thought of Lena will brace my nerves, and make my heart strong. I shall be a better man, and a braver soldier, when I know that she is to be my reward. I shall have her sweet face always before me, stimulating my spirit, and strengthening my arm. When I think she is here, waiting and watching to catch every . breath of news that is wafted over the sea, I know that I shall render my name glorious for her sake," " You will do all this for your country's sake," replied the Rector. " It is your duty to strain every nerve to defend her honour, and uphold your own." " Granted ; but a duty done dutifully is a different affair from a duty done con amove, though, so far as the country is concerned, the result may be the same. However, send for Lena, Guardy ; if she be willing to adopt your view of the matter, 1 shall still hold myself bound to the engagement, though she may consider herself free." Lena was accordingly summoned. A shy 64 A Hero's Work. fluttering happiness beamed on her face as she entered the room. Her first glance fell on Archibald, her next upon her father's graver face, ' where it remained fixed. When Mr. Carlton met his daughter's eye, so full of love and confidence, he half wished he had not sent for her, or, rather, that he had seen her alone ; he felt he could have spoken to her more tenderly, or more strongly, as the case might require, than he could do in the presence of Archibald, who was himself a party so much concerned in the event. He recapitu- lated to her the reasons he had urged upon Archibald against their entering into any en- gagement until his return home from the Crimea. He said much more to her, and in a different tone than he had spoken to Archibald. Lena neither moved, nor attempted to interrupt him by a word ; but as he proceeded, her eyes slowly filled, but did not overflow. He concluded by saying that he left the matter in her hands ; it was for her to decide. There was a slight tremor in her voice as she answered — Engaged, 65 " Let it be as you wish, papa. It will be all the same to us, Archie," she added, hastily, as she saw the anger rising in his eyes — " engagement or no engagement, we shall love one another just the same. We cannot help it. I shall wait for you here as anxiously, and you will as surely come back to me." "Ybw may be satisfied with such an uncertain arrangement," he said, with the slightest touch of reproach — " I can hardly expect you to feel as strongly as I do in the matter ; but to me it would be far more satisfactory to have some decided understanding both with you and your father, that you will be mine whenever I return to claim you." "My dear Archibald," said Mr. Carlton, "I have already promised it shall be so, provided you are both in the same mind." "That implies a doubt," he answered, impa- tiently. " You think that one, or both of us, may change our minds ; and I am now doubly anxious that we shall be bound by an engagement that it VOL. I. F 66 A Heroes Woik. would be impossible to break without shame or scandal on either side." He held Lena's hand fast as he spoke, and she said, in a low, lovinf^ whisper, intended for his ear alone — " What can bind us more surely than we are bound already, by our own will — our own love ? Let it be as papa wishes, Archie." Then, turn- ing to her father, she added : " Decide for us, papa ; I am sure we shall both agree to that which makes you the happiest." " It is of your happiness I am thinking, dar- ling, not of my own," said the Rector, drawing her fondly to his side ; " you shall decide for yourself — -I will not offer another opinion on the subject. I have already said all I have to say ; but I can hardly expect you young people to agree with me, so I leave it entirely in your hands. How is it to be ?" *' Well, papa," she answered, drooping her blushing face upon his shoulder, "I should like Archie to be satisfied ; he is going from us to Engaged. 67 encounter difficulties and dangers, whicli we know nothing of, and I think he ought to carry away as much happiness as we can give him." The gleam of exultant pride which shot from Archibald's eye was followed by a soft, tender light, wherein pride, with love, was strangely mingled. He knew well enough what her answer would be. If he had wished it, she would have given him her life to carry away as well as her love. A shadow fell on Mr. Carlton's heart, for which he could not account. He had no reason to be sad, for he had perfect faith in Archi- bald's love, honour, and integrity. His affection for Lena had been no sudden passion — it was the growth of years ; it had been born and nourished in the familiar intercourse of domestic life. Each knew the character of the other — there was no pet folly hidden from view — no peculiarity of temper concealed. It is true, Archibald was sometimes overbearing, headstrong, and proud — so, at least, some said; but at the Kectory they had never noticed any imperfec- f2 68 A Hero's Work. tion in him. They were accustomed to yield to him, and his frequent demands upon their patience and forbearance never struck them as anything uncommon. Lena, especially, was so used to his ways, that she would have con- sidered no change in him a change for the better. The old adage, ^'Bear and forbear," had been exemplified, so far as he was con- cerned, in her whole life. When she was a mere child, he would call her away from her girlish amusements, to join in some rough boy- ish game with him ; she always obeyed him, and joined in his pleasures as though she liked them. So far they were suited — she was yield- ing; he exacting. The Kector tried to smile as he answered — " Well, Archie, I suppose you must have your own way. I own I do not like to part with her; but if she is to marry, and I am afraid she will not be content to live with her old father for ever, I would as soon — nay, rather, you had her than any other man ; though I be- Engaged. 69 lieve few men can be worthy of my child." ^' Oh ! papa," exclaimed Lena, deprecatingly, as she lifted her humid eyes to his face. "Remember," added Mr. Carlton, "she has never heard a harsh word ; and though I love you, Archie, I could never forgive the man that caused my child a moment's sorrow." " My dear Guardy," replied Archie, with one of his peculiar, unfathomable smiles, "you for- get your favourite text, ' Man is born to sorrow, as the sparks fly upwards.' I suppose that ap- plies to women, too. Of this, however, you may rest assured — the sorrow that I cannot save her from, I will share with her, as I shall share this, our first, and, I hope, our last great grief — that of parting now." "Now!" repeated Lena. "Well, not exactly now, but on Wednesday — surely that is near enough." " Oh ! too near !" exclaimed Lena ; " but you will come down once more ? Papa, say he must ?" she added, appealingly. 70 A Hero's Work. "I can say nothing in the matter — I will leave you to settle it between yourselves," said the Rector, as he left the room. "If I come, I am afraid it will be not to stay beyond an hour or two," Archie answered, shaking his head ; " though of course I shall, if possible, run down and steal another look at your dear face before I start. Duty is sometimes a hard taskmaster, Lena, especially to a poor sol- dier. Its lightest call must be answered — with his life, if necessary." " Oh ! yes, of course. I would not have you do anything that was not quite right for the world; only it seems so hard — when you have only just come, and we might be so happy — for you to be obliged to leave us so soon." In vain she tried to control her voice — her lip quivered like a child's in its uncontrollable sorrow% She made no attempt either to hide her love, or conceal her sorrow. She was too innocent to do either — she did not in the least mind his knowing how much she loved him. Engaged, 71 He drew her to his side, parted the golden hair from her forehead, and looked down upon her face with intense admiration and love ; but the love of such men as Archibald Dundas differs widely from the love of women. As he gazed upon her, he was contrasting her beauty with that of others, and thinking she was the only woman he had ever seen who looked well in tears — to her they were really becoming. There were no swollen lids, no stained cheeks — she looked as fresh and lovely as a rose, from whose leaves the glittering drop has been newly shaken. " I am as sorry to go, darling," he said, " as you are to be left behind ; but you knew, when I came down, that my stay could not exceed four days. I have gained my prize, and I shall depart in peace." " Do you think I am such a prize, Archie ?" she said playfully. " It seems to me that I am all the gainer ; I am sure, when I have time to think, I shall be afraid you will change your mind." 72 A Hero's Work- "About what? — going f he asked, quickly, as though he thousjlit her plavful words were uttered seriously. Her colour deepened. She did not like to repeat her words; she fancied he would have understood her at once, and, perhaps, hoped he would have answered her by some endearing protestations, vowing he could never change ; but she was disappointed, and answered him with a kind of nervous hesitation — *' Oh ! no — of course you must go " " What do you mean, then, about my chang- ing my mind f She nestled closer to him, and half whispered, '' This has all happened so suddenly, Archie, that I am afraid, when you have gone, I shall wake up as from a dream, and wonder why you have chosen me.' "No need to wonder, Lena," he answered, smiling at the innocence of her remark ; " look there. Where should I find a face to equal that ?'* He threw one arm round her, and pointed to the looking-glass. She cast a shy glance at Engaged. 73 the reflection of her lovely self, and for the first time in her life, rejoiced that she was beautiful, because she saw that her beauty ^aye him plea- sure. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks flushed, as she said, "Ah ! but, Archie, if you love me for my looks only, I do not think your love will last loner. You will soon learn to compare me with other women, and you will find how inferior I am to many." " I shall never compare you with any other wo- man ; to me you will be always beyond com- pare. I do not mean for mere beauty, Lena — thousands of women might compete with you for that — but for a true heart and loving nature, ma belle stands first in all the world." " You make me so proud and happy, Archie," she answered, her eyes glistening as she spoke ; " I am sure you might have chosen your bride from among the most brilliant women of all the world." " I dislike brilliant women of the world," said 74 A Hero's Work. Captain Diindas, interrupting her ; " they expect too much, and give too little in return. I have lived among them, and know too much of them. Besides, not one of those brilliant women could love me, as you love me, darling; they would think too much of themselves, and too little of me — I could never marry a woman who thought herself my equal." " No woman in her right senses ever could think that," replied Lena, almost indignant at the idea of any one ever supposing themselves his equal. "But women are not always in their right senses, and there is no knowing what insane notions will sometimes arise from a woman's vanity." The next day was Sunday. The Rector's daughters were accustomed to take classes in the Sunday-school before the service commenced; but this morning, for some unexplained reason, Grace refused to go; and as Lena made her appearance dressed for walking, Captain Dun- Engaged. lb das, in some surprise, inquired where she was going so early. "Do you forget it is Sunday, Archie? You know I always go to the school." "Surely you can stay at home for once!" he answered impatiently. " You know how short my time is, and I want to have you all to my- self. I cannot bear you to be away from me for a single moment." "And I would much rather stay with you, Archie, you know that ; but I really must go with Mrs. Carlton." " Why ' must V Can she not go by herself, or let Grace go with her?" "Grace will not go; and as it is Mrs. Carl- ton's first Sunday here, I think it would seem so unkind of us to let her go alone ; besides, I am sure papa would not like it — he might think we were acting disrespectfully to him." " Well, I suppose you must go," he answered, drumming discontentedly against the window- pane ; " I daresay I am very selfish to wish you 76 A Herds Work. to stay at liome, but it is quite natural I should." " Ah ! yes, quite ; but we cannot always have things exactly as we wish — in matters of right, we must all yield something. We do not live for our own happiness only — we must think of other people a little." He was compelled to yield, but he did it with a very bad grace ; indeed, the cloud had hardly left his brow when, two hours after, he met Lena at the school-house door, and they walked together to the church. They had trodden the same way many times before, but it seemed new to her now — she saw all things in a new light. The sun had never shone so brightly, and the birds — those sinless Sabbath-breakers — had never sung so sweetly ; their joyous song seemed to re-echo the happi- ness of her own spirit. She felt so proud and so happy. To be the chosen one of Archibald Dundas, was to her a high and enviable des- tiny ; she could conceive no greater blessing than that of his love bestowed upon her. Engaged, 77 Now and then, as they walked along, she cast an upward glance upon his face ; and he, in his proud, dignified way, looked down with softening eyes on the treasure he had won with so little care or trouble ; for he had never known the hopes and fears, doubts and distrac- tions, that render love such an exciting and absorbing game. He fancied he had a right to Lena, and the man who would have put for- ward any pretension, either to her hand or her affections, would have had a heavy reckoning with him. Lena was too happy to talk ; as they strolled quietly along, her spirit was wan- dering through dreamland; his thoughts, too, were busily occupied, but they were of the past ; hers were of the future. More than once, even while his eyes were resting on her face, his thoughts were wandering far away. Perhaps Mrs. Carlton's presence was a bar to conversa- tion, as she of course walked by Lena's side from the school to the church. Occasionally he cast a side-long glance at her from under his 78 A Hero's Work. long eye-lashes. Her face puzzled him ; it had done so from the first moment their glances met, and he inwardly dreaded lest she should exert any influence over Lena ; he resolved to warn her to put no faith in her father's wife, and least of all in matters where he was con- cerned. 79 CHAPTER V. ARCHIBALD DISCUSSES KING SOLOMON. "Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; verily all is vanity and vexation of spirit." S Captain Dundas and Lena reached the churchyard, the Rector entered it by another gate. There was an expression of serene happiness in his face, to which it had been a stranger for many a day. He looked like a man who had fought a hard fight, and come off victorious, and so he had ; but unlike the soldier, who fights for fame, glory, and honour, with the knowledge that the world's eye is on him, to watch his struggles, and record his victory, Edward Carlton had fought his battle in the silence of his own soul ; he had 80 A Heros Work. wrestled daily with gnawing cares and home- born troubles, of which the world knew nothing ; but he had gained his harbour of rest at last. Lena, who was an enthusiastic admirer of her father, thought she had never seen him look so handsome or so happy, as when he took his wife upon his arm, and walked with her up the aisle of the church. He placed her in the Rectory pew, and then went on to the vestry to prepare for service. Many melancholy memories were wakened in Mrs. Carlton's breast, as she took her seat in the well-remembored church at Crofton. She had been absent near five-and-twenty years, and during that time death seemed to have been busy in the neighbourhood ; on every side she read the name of some dead friend or well- known neighbour. Directly opposite to her pew, on the left side of the altar, was a tablet erected to the memory of her own mother; glancing around, she read the names of many other members of her family — indeed, nearly all Archibald discusses King Solomon. 81 the relatives she had ever known were buried there; and there, too, in time, she would her- self lie down and rest. More than once during the service she found herself reading the in- scriptions to the dead, instead of attending to the prayers and responses of the living. In the middle of the Litany, the church door opened softly ; there was a rustling of silk, a light tread, then a lady was seen hurrying up the aisle, and the next moment she was seated in the Manor- house pew. This young lady — indeed, she was quite a girl — who attracted general attention, was tall and slight; she walked with that peculiar airy grace with which French women seem especially gifted. Her features were regular, and her complexion a rich olive tint ; her large dark eyes were slightly prominent, and fringed with long lashes ; her mouth was rather wide, but no one could take exception to that, as her teeth were even and exquisitely white. Her hair was thrown back in that style which the Empress VOL. I. G 82 A Hero's Work. had just brought into fashion, and which was generally, though in few instances, successfully- adopted — to her it was highly becoming. She was dressed with extreme simplicity; yet, every- thing she wore was arranged with studied care ; each fold of her dress fell in its right place — indeed, her draped figure was exquisitely airy, and might have served as a model for the most fastidious sculptor. How is it that foreigners for the most part excel us so entirely, not only in the choice of colour, but in the arrangement of dress? A French woman throws a shawl carelessly over her shoulders, and produces an effect which a London belle, though she had spent an hour at her toilette, would fail to equal. Lena chanced to glance up at Archibald, but she met no answering look. His attention was riveted on the lovely stranger, who seemed half conscious of the scrutiny she was undergoing, and had cast her eyes down upon her book, while a bright flush slowly suffused her cheeks. Archibald discusses King Solomon, 83 Archibald kept his gaze upon her so long, that he seemed to be taking an inventory of every feature. At length the prayers were ended ; the last note of the organ died away ; Mr. Carlton stood up in the pulpit, and in his earnest, impressive voice, gave the text : " Vanity of vanity, saith the preacher, all is vanity." Captain Dundas was roused from his contemplative fit ; he took his gaze from the Manor-house pew, and gave, or seemed to give, all his attention to the preacher. Captain Dundas, like many others, had a reverential affection for King Solomon. He was one of the great heroes of religious history, who can never fail to rouse enthusiasm and satisfy philosophy. To no other sovereign do we look back with so much affection and wonder as to that great king who has left a monument to his name that will outlast the pyramids of Egypt. No writer has left so vivid, so beautiful a record g2 84 A Hero's Work, behind him. First, we have his Song, evidently written when the freshness of youth was upon him ; the beautiful imagery, the passionate enthusiasm, and the rapidity with which he is hurried on from thought to thought, and from one vivid impression to another, are all evi- dences of a young earnest man ; while the cau- tious and compact style of the Proverbs, and the lessons of practical wisdom contained there- in, are the result of more experience of life than falls to the young. The Song of Solo- mon is full of anticipations of happiness ; it is all aspirations for the future ; the Proverbs regard the present; and Ecclesiastes, entirely retrospective and exclusive, is occupied with the past. It is the last record of Solomon's experi- ence ; his estimate of the real value of life. It is not the impatient utterance of a young man, who feels the first bitterness of disappointment, and exaggerates its importance because of its novelty ; neither is it the gloomy despondency of age, arising from thwarted ambition or long- Arcliihald discusses King Solomon. 85 deferred hopes ; but it is a conviction forced upon a man who has enjoyed life in its fulness, on whom all the pleasures and distinction for which men toil and crave have been poured in rich abundance. There were none so wise, none so world-famous, none so magnificent as he. What has ever equalled his ivory palaces and golden thrones, garnished with precious stones'? If the more lasting productions of genius, coupled with that wisdom which is coveted more than all — the knowledge of men, and how to rule them — could make a man happy, who could be happier than he, whose presence was sought by all the kings of the earth? Yet, in spite of all, in the midst of his abounding joys, the one bitter cry goes up from his heart, " Vanity of vanity — all is vanity ! " This was the text Mr. Carlton chose — always earnest, sometimes eloquent, on this occasion he was both. He spoke as though he loved his subject ; he painted in such vivid colours the beauty and wisdom of Solomon, the 86 A Hero's Work, state of the people, and the times they lived in, that his hearers were hurried through the mist of ages, and beheld the great king in all his glory. Solomon lived and breathed before them, revealed by the power of the preacher ; but still, through all his pomp and glory, there ran the wailing cry, " All is vanity !" To that one unchanging result led all his experiences ; that was the end of all his journeyings in search of happiness. However different the rules — however labyrinthine the paths he pur- sued — all came to the one end. In the midst of mirth and gladness, glory and honour, the one unchanging thought for ever haunted him, " Vanity, vanity — all is vanity !" With touch- ing earnestness, Mr. Carlton dwelt on this sub- ject, and besought his hearers to hold them- selves loosely from the things of this world, and habituate themselves to dwell only on those things which alone are real and everlasting. His sermons were always effective, because he never wearied his hearers ; he gave them enough. Archibald discusses King Solomon. 87 but not too much ; he rarely occupied the pul- pit more than twenty minutes ; if he could obtain the undivided attention of his congrega- tion for that period, he was satisfied. The Church Service is in itself a long one — much too long, in the opinion of many — and " after the prayers are ended," he used to say, " it is too much to expect attention during a lengthy discourse ; no matter how eloquent the preacher may be, the voice will, after a while, become a mere monotonous sound, and the hearers will either be lulled to sleep, or amuse themselves by thinking of other matters." The congregation left the church with the voice of their Eector still ringing in their ears, and the imagery he had so abundantly used, still vividly impressed upon their memory ; they gathered in little knots in the churchyard, discussing the merits of the sermon, and the Rector's new wife. Some of the older inhabi- tants of Crofton lingered about the pathways, hoping to catch a glimpse, or, perhaps, exchange 88 A Hero's Work a few words with Captain Dundas, whom they had known from a boy; his handsome dashing appearance had always rendered him a favourite with them. Now that he was going to the war, they felt a kind of vested interest in his doings, as though all the glory or fame that he might win must reach them there, and cast a bright reflection on their quiet homes at Orofton. When he came out of the church doors, he was received by a shower of smiles; warm words and hearty good wishes greeted him on all sides. More than one stood in the background, too shy to come forward, and yet anxious to be recog- nized by him. He merely nodded to some, and passed on ; others he addressed by name, and inquired briefly after their families and their doings. One old woman stood direct in his way, as though resolved he should not pass her by. She had kept a general shop in the village ; perhaps she reminded him of some boyish prank, when raspberry tarts and marbles were the chief objects of his life. He smiled, shook hands Archibald discusses King Solomon. 89 with her, and, congratulating her upon her good looks, told her she was growing young again. Then he would have passed on, but she stopped him ; she had a great favour to ask him, she said — "You remember my Joe, sir — him as used to go bird's-nesting along o' you, when you w^as both boys together? Well, sir, he's gone and 'listed" — a tear stood in the poor soul's dim eyes as she spoke ; " he's a good lad, sir, though he knows nothing of the world; and I've heerd the army's a sad place, wdiere they never say their prayers, but smoke and drink, and think nothin' even of swearing ! If you'd only give an eye to him, Capt'n, and keep him out o' danger, and put him for'ard a bit, you shall have a poor w^idder's blessin', though it mayn't be worth much, to the end of your days." Archibald smiled, and told her she had uttered a cruel slander against the army, which, he as- sured her, did its devotions as well as the rest of the world ; and he promised her that he 90 A Hero's Work. would look after her son to the best of his power. His words, though lightly uttered, and his cheerful smile, went like a sunbeam to the mother's heart, and she went home rejoicing that she had secured a friend and patron for her son — one who could and would help him on his way; while he in whom she trusted had probably forgotten, before five minutes had passed, that such a person as Joe Davis had ever existed. The old woman had scarcely made her last curtsey, and passed on, when Lena, wdio had seemed thoughtful, suddenly turned to him, and said, "Is she not beautiful, Archie?" " How do you mean beautiful ?" he answered ; " in body or in soul ?" "I do not know anything about her soul," said Lena ; '^ but I think she has the most charming face I have ever seen." Archibald had a comical twinkle in his eye, as he answered, Archibald discusses King Solomon, 91 "At sixty-five, Lena, a woman's beauty gener- ally begins to fade; and I do not think poor old Kitty Davis could ever have been a beauty." " Nonsense !" said Lena, laughing outright ; "you know I am not speaking of her. I mean that beautiful young lady who sat in the Manor House pew." " Ah !" he answered, half hesitating. " AVell, yes, I suppose she is ; but to tell you the truth, I did not take much notice of her." " Not take much notice !" exclaimed Lena ; "why, Archie, you were looking at her during the best half of the service!" " Was I ? — very likely. But, you know, some folk look without seeing — their eyes are open, but their sense is shut. But now you recall her to me, I think I did observe the lady — her face seemed somewhat familiar to me — I am sure I must have seen her somewhere." "If you had ever seen her, Archie, you must have remembered her — such a face as that could not easily be forgotten." 92 A Hero's Work. "I have lost my relish for all faces but one, dearest, and I am never tired of admiring that," he answered, with a loving glance. "But you may admire others, just a little, you know ; I will allow that ; not too much, or I might he jealous." " It must be something very much out of the common way to attract me. I have seen beautiful faces usque ad nauseam; it is rather a relief to meet with an ugly one. As a rule they are far more agreeable." Lena made some playful rejoinder, and on they walked. Her thoughts hovered round her love, like bees about a lime-tree, gathering nothing but honied fancies and sweet imagin- ings. His thoughts, too, were wandering far and wide, but it is not necessary to follow them, nor to dive into his breast, and drag forth his secrets ; enough of his sayings and doings will appear hereafter. Suddenly, however, he stopped and said, " Ah ! I have got it now — it was at the Embassy Ball at Paris last year ! " Archibald discusses King Solomon. 93 " What was at the Embassy Ball ?" said Lena, startled by his sudden exclamation. "That I met the young lady who has just roused your admiration. I danced with her a great deal, and afterwards — " he checked him- self, and, after a momentary pause, added, " She was wath a stately old dowager, her mother, and, if I remember rightly, there was some scandal about the family, though I forget now what it was." "How odd you did not recollect the face at first." " Not at all — women look so different in their bonnets, Lena. The face certainly seemed fa- miliar to me, and you know I have a talent for finding out likenesses, and whenever I fancy a resemblance, I never rest till I have traced it home." If Captain Dundas had been submitted to a strict cross-examination, he certainly would have committed himself sadly, but Lena had no idea of cross-examining him at all. However, if 94 A Hero's Work they had been ever so much inclined to con- tinue their conversation, they could not have done so, for just as Archibald finished speaking, Mr. and Mrs. Carlton came up, and somehow they fell to talking of the Rector's sermon. "By-the-bye, Guardy, I do not at all agree with you," said Archibald. " All is not vanity, and even if it were, I doubt the wisdom of propagating such a notion." "You have no right to doubt the wisdom of the wisest king that ever existed," said the Rector. ''Admitting him, for the sake of argument, to be the wisest, yet the wisest sometimes err." "But when such a man as Solomon speaks, and his words have been unquestioned for ages, until they have become as sacred truths, fixed in the hearts of men, it seems a little presumptuous, Archie, for you to rise up and say that they are false !" Archibald discusses King Solomon, 95 "Not at all presumptuous," replied Archie, "for / reason upon an asserted fact, before I receive it as a truth ; all men do not, they do not take the liberty of thinking for themselves as I do. It is not because poor old Solomon, with his three hundred wives, managed to be miserable, and pronounced all things to be vanity, that I am to believe it. Life might be full of vanity to him, but to every man it bears a different fruit. Can the life of any good man be called a vanity? Are the flights of genius, the creations of art, the wonders of science, vanities? The genius of Shakespeare, which has given employment to thousands, and plea- sure to thousands more, the marvels of elec- tricity, the telegraph, the power of steam, to say nothing of those virtues which are exer- cised in the narrow circle of home — are these all vanities? If so, peace, prosperity, and happiness are maintained on earth, and even heaven itself is won by vanities !" "You do not receivQ the prophet in the 96 A Hero's Work. proper spirit," replied Mr. Carlton. "lie only reminds us, in the midst of pain or pleasure, poverty or prosperity, wisdom or power, that all alike must end ; that when we have journeyed to the end of this life, we shall look back, and discover that all things belonging to .this world are vanities." " I deny it," replied Archie emphatically : ^^the man who looks back upon an ill- spent life, may call it ^ vanity ;' but he who has lived a good, useful life, happy himself, and beneficial to others, rejoices, and feels that he has not lived in vain. Of course we know that all things have an end, but that is no reason why we should not enjoy this world, without forgetting that which is to come." " Certainly not ; the prophet merely warns us not to put too much value on the things of this world. On the guiding-post to every pur- suit, he is content to write this warning, ' Ye who enter here, expect not to find happiness — all alike leads to vanity and vexation of spirit. Arcldhald discusses King Solomon. 97 Rest or labour, folly or wisdom, wealth or po- verty, one event happeneth to all.' " "Well, Guardy, if we were to enter into life with the conviction that, no matter how great our struggles, how earnest our endeavours, all was vanity, we should be disgusted from the first. If all the springs of life were poisoned, what matters it of which we drink ? What is the use of such warnings? If the result must be the same, what matter if we reject or obey them r " Were the purpose of Solomon no other than to disgust men with the world — to set before ^ them in theory that which in practice every man must experience, there would indeed be little profit in his warning. But the declaration of Solomon is worth something to thoughtful men; it warns them to be prepared for dis- appointments which they cannot avoid — and to be forewarned is to be forearmed. But so strangely are men constituted, that it is not only on occasions of disappointment, but often VOL. I. H 98 A Ileros Work at the moment of their greatest successes, they have felt most poignantly the truth of Solomon's words, and in their inmost hearts have taken up the burthen, 'I looked upon all things my hands had wrought, and the things I had la- boured to do, and behold all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.' You are too much given to quibbling on sacred subjects, Archie ; if you would reflect before you speak, I am sure you would hold different opinions." " Speech is with me the result of reflection, Guardy ; and you know you always tell me to come to you whenever a doubt arises in my mind on any religious subject. It is very sin- gular, and I daresay you will be surprised when I tell you that, the more we talk, the more we seem to be at issue, and the more convinced I am that I am right." "But, my dear boy, remember it is not with me you are at issue, but with the great King him- self ! Those are his words you doubt — not mine." Archibald discusses King Solomon, 99 "Ah! well, it is much the same thing — he makes an assertion, and you bolster it up — it is your duty, of course — but even if Solomon him- self were to rise from his grave, with the ami- able intention of convincing me that all is vanity, I should not believe him — I should say then, as I say now, with the young German poet — " Fast dashing torrents of life brimming over, Say, should ye cast me away on the stream, Still would I sing 'mid the foam of its billow, It is not in vain, I have dreamt my life's dream." " Why, Edwardj how fast you have been walk^ ing and talking," said Mrs. Carlton, at that mo- ment coming up with them, for she and Lena had been loitering behind, and allowed the two gentle- men to get far ahead. " It is very fortunate we were engrossed by our own conversation, for you have given us no chance of enjoying yours." " You have had no loss, my dear," replied the Rector. " Captain Dundas has been trying H 2 1^^ A Hero's Work. to persuade me that he is wiser than the wisest King that ever lived." "And failed, of course," said Mrs. Carlton, drily. 101 CHAPTER VI. woman's wit. " I might hear you sing, And from the well-tuned accents of your voice, In my imagination might conceive With what melodious harmony choirs Of angels sing above." N reaching the house, they found luncheon ready, and Grace in a demure, half mocking mood, evidently annoyed at the new position of affairs in the family, and inclined to be more facetious than was agreeable to her sister. When they strolled out into the garden, she could not resist inquiring "how the adored one had behaved in Church, and in what way he was different from his old self?" She made many observations and minor inquiries, which made Lena blush and laugh as she answered, 102 A Hero's Work. " What nonsense you talk, Grace ! Why, of course Archie is just the same as he always was ; only," she added shyly, ** he loves me a little more, that is all." " Oh !" said Grace, " I should have thought the mere fact of 'loving you a little more,' made all the difference. I suppose, then, he might as well be in love with me? and I am not quite sure he is not. You know he always gave me the preference until last night ; perhaps he has made a mistake, and will explain himself by-and-bye. Heigho ! I wish somebody wotild - propose to me !" After a moment's pause, she added, " I do not think we shall get on very well with our stepmother, Lena; do you?" "Well," replied Lena, prudently, "I really do not think w^e have anything to complain of at present." "Of course not — she is only feeling her way. Papa would not let her take too many liberties at first ; but, of course, I cannot expect you to feel it so much as I shall." Woman's Wit. 103 "Why not?" "Because you have the prospect of being Speedily freed from home trammels altogether. You can look forward to the time when you will be your own mistress, have a nice house, and, I dare say, go to balls and parties, and all kinds of pleasant places. I tell you what, Lena," she added, brightening, "when you are married, you must coax Archibald to let me come and live with you." " So I will, dear," said Lena, twining her arms round her sister's waist; and as they paced up and down the pathway, Lena listened more patiently than usual to her sister's half fretful reproaches and complaints. Lena felt she had grown selfish during the last few hours, for since Captain Dundas had proclaimed his love for her, she had lived in an atmosphere of new delights. The world, and everything in it, seemed to wear a changed aspect to her. The days when she and Grace used to speak of the future (when they first heard of their father's 104 A Hero's Work. marriage), and speculate on their own position, on what they should do, and how they should act, under certain emergencies, seemed now to be a long way off. Mrs. Carlton had made herself such a pleasant companion, that Lena had almost forgotten the existence of a step- mother. However, in paying her the respect which was her due, and showing the tender regard she could not help feeling for her, Lena felt as though she had deserted her colours, and played half traitor to her sister ; never reflecting that it is wiser and better to adopt a new course which is right, than persevere in an old one which is wrong. Hence it was that she resolved to be doubly patient and forbearing. When Grace spoke of her being married, and her own mistress, she woke up as from a dream. The present was her world — she was enjoying all the poetry of love, and was not willing to be thrust forward into the future when the reality awaited her. She was revelling in her golden hour of romance, and shrank from con- Womafi's Wit, 105 templating the time when romance must end, and reality begin ; the prospect which Grace pointed out was too matter-of-fact to afford her any satisfaction in her present state of mind. While Grace was still pouring her hopes, fears, and general dissatisfaction into her sister's ear, the garden gate opened, and the old sexton came hobbling along up the pathway. He pulled his forelock to the young ladies, and told them he wished to speak to the Eector on some pressing business, " as wasn't quite pleasant." The girls hurried with him to the house at once, and ushered him into their father's study. His story was soon told. It appeared there was a family in the village named Spence. They had formerly belonged to Crofton Church, but for the last twelve or fifteen years they had joined a peculiar section of the Dissenters, and had become the devout fol- lowers of Josiah Toogood, a converted prize- fighter, whose own wonderful conversion from 106 A Hero's Work wicked ways generally formed the staple of his discourses. Margaret Spence, a girl of sixteen, always in delicate health, had been seized some months previously with a contagious disease, and whilst the fever was at its height, the visits of friends and neighbours became scarce, and even Josiah Toogood was so much occu- pied, that he could find no time to attend to what was supposed to be the death-bed of Mar- garet Spence. The poor girl then expressed a wish to see Mr. Carlton, who immediately went to her, for he obeyed the will of Him who says, "Ye shall leave all the world and follow me;" and in tending the sick and sorrowing, he knew he was following Christ. He was a good soldier, and went wherever duty called him ; he did his work with a brave, earnest spirit, and with double pleasure, when he was called on by the suffering poor. The poor girl soon began to look forward to his visits as to the coming of a friend. After awhile she rallied, and by her family was supposed to be recovering fast. Woman's Wit, 107 Josiah Toogood never forgave the Kector for having performed the duty he had himself neg- lected. However, Margaret Spence never re- gained her strength — she grew weaker and weaker, and in her last moments expressed a wish to be buried in Crofton Churchyard, and that Mr. Carlton should read the burial service over her. This, of course, he was prepared to do ; but it seemed that in addition to the burial service, the family and friends of the dead girl, headed by Josiah Toogood, intended to sing a hymn, and give a discourse over her grave. This was the news that old Ben the sexton brought to the Rectory. A perplexed look stole over Mr. Carlton's face as he said — " I suppose there is no mistake ; you are sure it is soj Ben ?" " It's w^uss than so, sir ; they're goin' to preach an exultation over the body ; and they've invited half the parish — some's comin' becos they likes it, and some's comin' to see what the upshot'll be." 108 A Hero's Work. " Very well," said Mr. Carlton, looking at his watch ; " there is no time to lose," " No, sir, but I thought you wouldn't like to be took by surprise." "I should not, indeed," answered the Rector. "I thank you for your information, Ben. Now go to your post, do your duty, and I shall do mine." "You won't let 'em have it their own way, sir?" said the old sexton, with a last lingering look. "I've buried a'most everybody in the town nigh on forty years, and things alius went quiet and comfortable for them as was dead as well as them as was livin'." The Rector racked his brain, and paced the room thoughtfully for some minutes, considering his best course of action. One thing was cer- tain, the Spences must not have their way — that was impossible. They had their own grounds on the outskirts of the town, where they might lay their dead to rest in their own fashion ; but the Church of England had laid Woman's Wit 109 down its own laws, and it was the duty of all clergymen to see that those laws were not in- fringed. There was no time to use persuasive arguments or diplomatic skill in the matter. Immediately after the afternoon service, the bell would begin to toll and the funeral procession be on its way to church, and Mr. Carlton had an ugly vision of the scene which would in all probability ensue ; whichever way it ended, the event could not fail to bring scandal on the Church. "Let them have it their own way," said Lena. "That they shall not," replied the Kector, decidedly. " I will sooner have the grave filled in, and the procession turned from the church gates." " Something must be done to prevent matters coming to such a crisis," said Mrs. Carlton, her clear womanly w^it coming to her aid. " Do they live far off?" "About a mile. Why?" 110 A Hero's Work " I could walk there in a quarter of an hour," she said, rising briskly. " You I — my dear Christina, what can you possibly do in the matter f ' said the Kector, astonished at her proposal. " You have no power — no authority over them." "All the better — I have a greater chance of success. If you were to go, armed with your clerical authority — with the Rubric in your hand, and the Canon Law thundering from the tip of your tongue — you would do no good, but most likely rouse an antagonistical feeling ; they would not listen to reason, especially to your reasoning. I know the dogged obstinacy of these people well. Some scandalous scene would ensue, damaging alike to you, to them, and to the Church. How- ever the matter might end, some shame would cling to both parties ; and the honour of the Church and of her ministers ought not to be assailed — it should be kept pure and undefiled." " The fault would be entirely their own," said the Rector. Woman^s Wit, 111 "Yes," replied his wife, "but the greater part of the shame would cling to you. The report would go abroad that you, a Christian minister, refused burial to a Dissenter ! Think of that ! The world is too busy to inquire into the details ; it would be content with the fact — not one in a thousand would know the actual truth that surrounded it. But if I hope to do any good, I must not lose time. Good-bye." Mr. Carlton, of course, cautioned her to be careful in all she said or did ; he had great faith in her judgment and clear-sightedness, for he knew she would say the right thing in the right place. She hastily put on a plain dark dress, and threw a black veil over her bonnet, to make herself "look as much like mourning as possible," then went away hopefully, leaving them behind her wondering and mystified as to her intended proceedings. " I pity the poor people," said the Rector, musing; "it is not their fault, but the fault of their leaders, the would-be Christian guides, who 112 A Hero's Work stir up their bad passions, and lead, or rather mislead, them into all kinds of errors." " But, papa, it is quite right that the minister should lead his flock." " Yes, if he leads them in the right direction ; but I cannot help thinking that a sect which permits any unlearned and unauthorized indivi- dual, be he a reformed drunkard or converted prize-fighter, to thunder from their pulpits, must have more black sheep than good shep- herds among their number. I am sure of one thing — they give the Church of England more trouble than the whole community of Rome put together." Meanwhile, Mrs. Carlton was hastening to Richard Spence's cottage — a servant walked with her to show her the way. As soon as she got within sight of the cottage, she dismissed her guide, and went on alone. It must be confessed, Mrs. Carlton felt a little nervous and anxious as to the success of of her mission ; but she kept a good heart, and Woman's Wit 113 hoped for the best. As she approached the cottage, she observed that everything surround- ing it was neat and orderly ; a few flowers were in the windows, and sweet-smelling climb- ing plants were trained round the lattice-work of the doorway. The door was partly open, and she saw dark figures moving about within. On seeing her approach, or rather, on hearing her footsteps on the gravel outside, the door was opened wider, and a tall gaunt man, with a rugged, grief-stricken face, looked at her with inquiring impatience. She spoke at once — "This, I think, is Mr. Spence's cottage?" He nodded, and fearing some interruption from those within the room, she added, in a low voice, " I wish to speak to you for a few minutes." " You must wait till to-morrow, then," he answered, curtly — " my daughter lies dead yonder." He would have closed the door upon her, VOL. 1. I 114 A Heroes Work. but she glided past him into the house, saying, " I know it, and it is for that reason I have come." As she crossed the threshold, she found the room filled with friends and neighbours, who had been invited to follow the remains of the young girl to the grave. A hasty glance con- vinced her that the mother was not among them, and she passed on to the kitchen, which lay to her left. Richard Spence followed her, amazed, it must be confessed, at the liberty she had taken in entering his cottage at such a time without any visible reason, and yet not liking to interrupt her. Mrs. Carlton's object was to speak privately with the wife, or the wife and husband together ; it would have been of no use at all to speak to either in presence of their friends. As Mrs. Carlton passed through the room, and merely glanced round it, she fancied she discovered Josiah Toogood among them ; he, of course, would be sure to oppose her. Woman! s Wit. 115 On a low stool by the kitchen fire sat one real sorrow-stricken mourner, the mother of the dead ; her face was buried in her hands, and she rocked herself to and fro, sobbing piteously, unconscious that a stranger's eye was on her. Her husband's attention was apparently drawn away from Mrs. Carlton for the moment, as he laid his broad brown hand upon the poor wo- man's shoulder, saying — *' Come, mother, bear up — all the cryin' and moanin' in the world won't bring her back. I wish it would, though I know she's a sight better off where she is — we all on us feels that." " Yes," said Mrs. Carlton, stooping over the bereaved mother, and taking one coarse hand kindly within her own, " she is indeed better off ; but you must not think you have quite lost her — though you cannot see her, she can see you, and perhaps is even now watching you, grieving because you grieve — longing to i2 116 A Hero's Work speak words of comfort, to dry your tears, and bid you grieve for her no more." "Thank'ee for them words, ma'am," said the father, his face brightening up. '^ Maybe, as you say, she can see us now ; an' if she can, why, it's a'most as good as bein' alive again — 'tain't Hke bein' dead at all." " Ah ! but we can't see her^ father," sobbed the poor woman, in uncontrollable grief, " nor we shan't see her never no more — never no more !" " Well, well, bear up — come, wife, come — if you want to see the last on her; we're nigh startin'." Now was the time to speak. "Stay!" exclaimed Mrs. Carlton— " I dare say you wonder why I am here, and, indeed, I feel that I am intruding on your sorrow — but I must first tell you I am Mrs. Carlton." " Oh !" growled Mr. Spence, looking suspici- ously at her from beneath his bushy brows — " the parson's wife down yonder ?" Woman's Wit. 117 "Yes," replied Mrs. Carlton, feeling the sooner she came to the point the better it would be, " and my husband has desired me to assure you of his deep sympathy. He visited your daughter, I believe, during her sickness, for he has often spoken of her sufferings, her patience, and her goodness." "Ay, so she wur," said the father, drawing the back of his hand across his eyes ; " she wur as patient as a lamb, and never a better nor more dutifuller child in all the parish." " My husband will read the burial-service over her, according to her last wish, poor child; but he has heard — I do not know whether his information is correct — that you intend to sing a hymn over her grave." "That wur her last wish, too, and we means to do it," answered Spence, with dogged resolu- tion. " It cannot be done," said Mrs. Carlton, gently, but decisively. " We only heard of this half an hour ago, and I came at once, to use reason 118 A Hero's Work. and persuasive arguments against such a pro- ceeding, which cannot fail to bring scandal on both churches, also to save you from breaking the law." " Beg your pardon," he answered surlily ; " sing- in' hymns ain't breakin' no law — and we're a-goin' to do it — there !" he added triumphantly. " We knowed all along the parson 'ud be agin us; but so long as we don't interfere wi' him, he's got no right to interfere wi' us." "But he has a right to interfere in this mat- ter " "Don't see it — and if I'd know'd you'd been the parson's wife you shouldn't have come in at all. It isn't Christian-like for a lady like you to be harrying poor folks in their trouble. Come along, mother, they're a-waitin' for us." There was something almost majestic in the man, as he strode past Mrs. Carlton towards the door ; then he paused, and said, " You want to hinder us from singin' and from speakin', too ; I suppose you say it ain't lawful! — but what's }Vomo7is Wit. 119 lawful for one, is lawful for another. Why shouldn't there be a speech made over her when she's buried, as well as over the great folks as are buried in St. Paul's or in the Abbey there in Lunnon? They talk fine talk over them — half lies, I'll be bound ; but nobody," he added, his anger succumbing to his grief, " no- body can't say nothin' good of my poor gal that lays there as wasn't true — she wur too good for us, she wur — that's why God took her." "We are quite willing to say and to hear all that can be said in her praise," said Mrs. Carl- ton, " for we know she deserved it ; but it must be said at the proper time and proper place — it must not be allowed to interrupt the solemn service which the Church has ordered for the dead. As for the orations you speak of, they are the echo of the nation's voice, the nation's tribute in honour of her great men, and are only permitted to be uttered over public men. To your child we would give a tribute from our hearts, not to the few who could gather round 120 A Hero's Work. her grave to listen, but in the parish church, where all the town, from far or near, may hear it. My husband will preach a funeral sermon on Sunday next, and tell how much her friends regret and grieve for her. This may do good to the living, as well as honour to the dead ; her bright example, illustrated by my husband's eloquence, may win many followers." Kichard Spence was evidently touched and gratified by Mrs. Carlton's words; he liked to hear her speak so kindly of his darling dead. He was half won over, but he steeled his heart, and obstinately determined not to give way, so he answered gruffly — "It won't do no good preacliin' about my gal there — we shan't be there to hear it — we don't belong to 3^our church." "But we all belong to one God, and however we may differ here, we all hope to be united hereafter — at any rate, at the grave all dissen- sion should cease. When the dead rest, the living should be at peace. You have been ill- Woman s Wit. 121 advised. If you persevere in your intention, you will create a disturbance, and destroy the solemnity of your daughter's grave. You have no more right to break the law of the Church than the law of the land." Mrs. Carlton had already convinced him that he was wrong, but he would not own it — he felt his courage fast oozing away, but with dogged obstinacy he went towards the door, dragging his wife after him. A happy thought struck Mrs. Carlton — '' Stay !" she exclaimed ; " one moment more. You have been a soldier, and a brave one, I have heard." " So I have," said the old man, proudly ; ^' and if it weren't for the loss of this limb," and he showed the stump of his arm, " I'd be a soldier still." " Then you know what discipline is ?" " Should think I did— rather." "Suppose your captain gave you an order, and you disobeyed it?" 122 A Ileros Work. " I'd be shot, and sarve me right ; but I don't see what that has got to do wi' my child." "My husband stands in the place of a sol- dier," said Mrs. Carlton ; " the Church, his captain, issues certain orders, which he is bound to obey. There is one settled ceremony for the burial of the dead, which admits of no altera- tion or addition ; were Mr. Carlton to permit you to carry out your intention, he would be guilty of disobedience to the laws of the Church." Mrs. Carlton's voice, beseeching, yet convinc- ing, had a wonderful effect on Richard Spence, who all his life had been accustomed to mili- tary obedience. He was struck by her argu- ment. She had put it exactly in the form wdiich he could best understand. He held out his large brown hand to her, saying, " You're right, ma'am, I see — I understands you now, and I axes your pardon, if I was a bit rude just now. I'll speak to the minister, and we'll give it up." Woman's Wit. 123 *^ But she wished it," faltered the mother, looking imploringly in her husband's face — " with her last breath she asked us to sing ^ Emmanuel's Land ' over her ; she sang it like an angel herself when she was alive." "We will sing it here over all that remains of her," said Mrs. Carlton's silvery voice — *^here, under your own roof, where she has lived and died. Come, if you will allow me, I will join you." As Richard Spence had said, their friends had got on their hoods and scarfs, and were waiting for the chief mourners to take their places, previous to starting for the church. The whole assembly were evidently impatient at the long delay, and were curious to know who was the stranger, and why she had detained them at such an unseasonable time. They cast a scrutinizing glance upon her as she followed the sorrowing parents into the room. Spence, in a straightforward, soldierly fashion, spoke out to the minister — 124 A Hews Work. "I've been put in mind, sir, as singin' ain't quite the thing in Crofton churchyard; so, if it's all the same to you, and nobody's got no objection, we'll have the hymn sung here afore we start." The old soldier's word was law in his own household ; everybody knew that ; even Josiah Toogood made but a faint attempt to cling to the first resolutiouo The father placed himself at the head of the coffin ; the mother crouched down by his side, her forehead resting upon the coffin, and grasping his large hand, as though it could support her in this heavy hour of trial ; their friends gathered round them, and their minister, with half-closed eyes, and a professional drawl, led off the hymn, his flock following him. Before they had reached the end of the first verse, they became aware that a sweeter sound than their own untuned vocalization filled the room ; slowly their voices dropped lower and lower, till one by one they ceased altogether, Woman's Wit. 125 and simultaneously they turned their eyes to where Mrs. Carlton stood in shadow, at the far end of the room. It was from her lips the sound proceeded. At first her tones had crept in low, and half unnoticed, among their harsh tuneless voices ; but as the hymn proceeded, her rich voice swelled with its grand solemn burthen in such a volume of melodious spunds, that it was no wonder all sank into silence beneath its wonderful entrancing power. One moment it rose with a burst of enthusiasm, as though ushering the spirit of the dead girl into the presence of angels; then, in slow solemn cadences, it came back to earth again, and sank like a moaning sigh into the hearts of all present. The men listened with bated breath, and some of the women, deeply affected, sobbed aloud. No prayer, nor pious exhortation poured forth on this solemn occasion, could have touched their hearts as did this magic music of the human voice. While the last cadence of the 126 A Hero's Work. hymn still lingered in their ears, Mrs. Carlton dropped her veil over her face, and was gone from among them. 127 CHAPTER VII. OFF TO THE WAR. " Cleopatra. . . . Your honour calls you hence, And all the gods go with you ! upon your sword Sit laureled Victory, and smooth success Be strewed before your feet." " Antony. . . . Let us go. Come : Our separation so abides, and flies, That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me. And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee." N Wednesday morning early — indeed, before daybreak — Captain Dundas was up, and out on the top of St. Anne's Hill, to watch the sun rise. It was his last morning at Crofton ; it might be many a long day, or year, before he would stand on the same spot, and see the same sight again. In a few days he would be on the wide sea, his back turned 128 A Heros Work. on the old familiar home, and his face towards a new land, wherein lay the honour, fame, and glory he hoped to win. The same sun would shine for him there, but on scenes how oppo- site, how varied, and how different ! He knew he should tread strange ways, behold new faces, witness solemn scenes and awful catas- trophes, before he should again stand on that quiet hill at Crofton. Many a man would have sighed at leaving peace, tranquillity, and love behind him ; but not so Archibald Dundas. Ambition said, " Go forward !" and he was con- tent, nay, eager to be gone. He knew^ that his love would remain in her father's home, watch- ing and waiting for his return. He sauntered slowly towards the Rectory, half expecting that Lena would be out to meet him. She knew that he intended to go and see the sunrise; she had promised to be up early too, and walk with him to a favourite brook, that ran through the meadows, about a mile and a half through the village, where the forget-me-not grew in such Off to the War. 129 rich profusion as to give its name to the little stream. It was for the purpose of gathering some of these sentimental flowers that they were to make their loving pilgrimage that morning. He passed many a labourer going cheerfully to his daily toil; herdsmen were driving their cattle through the meadows ; and the rosy milk- maids, with their clattering pails, laughed and chatted merrily as they tripped along. The sheep, just loosed from the fold, were scat- tered over the fields, nibbling the fresh dewy grass with evident enjoyment — but no Lena appeared. He wondered why she did not come, and, by the time he reached the Rec- tory, had worked himself up into a state of irritable impatience. He pulled out his meer- schaum, lighted it, and was in process of being rapidly soothed by its sedative effect, when the house began to be astir. His eye naturally turned to Lena's room; the blinds were drawn up ; a dainty hand appeared at the casement, VOL. I. K 130 A Hero's Work and hung out a canary in the early sunshine; the pretty creature, which was one of his gifts, straightway carolled forth its thanks, and made the air ring with its merry trills and quavers. Captain Dundas wandered up and down the path, watching, as well as he could by occa- sional glimpses, the progress of the young girl's toilette, as she flitted about the room, minister- ing to her own loveliness, that it might gladden his eyes. He saw her shake down her hair, and brush out the long tresses which fell in silken waves about her face and shoulders. He thought how lovely she looked, and wished she would always wear it so, instead of carrying it off her face, and fastening it up behind. He remembered how often, when she was a child, he had gathered the whole mass in his hands, and let it fall on her shoulders like a shower of gold. He pondered on the absurdity of women in following the fashion, instead of adhering to the form that suited best the contour and ex- pression of their face; and determined that his Off to the War. 131 wife should be the exception, and wear her hair as best became her. From the dressing of the hair, he wandered to a thousand other whims of his, which Lena should conform to. He was to be pleased, and his pleasure should be her law. In the enjoyment of his imaginary autocracy, he forgot to look at Lena's window, and was only startled from his reverie by her footsteps on the gravel walk; as he turned to meet her, he shook the ashes from his pipe, and replaced it in his pocket. "Fie for shame!" exclaimed Lena, playfully. " I see what you are doing ; putting your vice in your pocket, instead of throwing it away." "It is all by way of military practice, Lena. If I cannot stand smoke, how can I ever hope to stand fire?" " Never at a loss for an excuse, Archie ; but you know you promised long ago to give tip that odious habit; yet here you are, puffing away like a smoky chimney, almost before my face !" k2 132 A. Hero's Work. " But with this difference — 1 can be cured, and a smoky chimney can't." "And I suppose I am to have the pleasant task of curing you?" "If you will undertake it." "But does it never strike you that I may possibly have enough to do with my own vices ?" she asked. " Well," he answered, with mock gravity, " I dare say you have. A woman, they say, has as many vices as an unbroken filly, and as many tricks as a monkey. Doubtless you have got a few locked up in some secret drawer in your work-box." " True, but it might give you some trouble to find the key, and I would advise you, Archie, to pause before you seek for it. Kemember Pandora's box; if she had kept all the evil locked up, what a wonderfully good world this would be." "So good," he answered, "as to be good for nothing. A spice of wickedness adds greatly Off to the War. 133 to the flavour of this world's feast, Lena." ''I am afraid it is too highly flavoured for general enjoyment," she replied. " That is quite a matter of opinion," said Archi- bald ; " for my part, I have seen people cultivated to the highest pitch of morality and religious propriety, and invariably I have hated them. But come, you have lectured me enough, let us end with a kiss of peace." "No, sir," she answered, laughing, "not till you are thoroughly purified. I have a great mind," she added archly, as they left the garden, and turned up a shady lane, "to make you walk six feet behind me." " Then, indeed, my pet vice would go before me, and I should follow it like a shadow; bat suppose we effect a compromise, and I yield up one vice to another. There! you may fhrow it in the river if you like." As he spoke, he placed his meerschaum in her hand. She looked at it, thought it a nasty, soiled, dirty-looking thing, and very disagreeable 134 A Hero's Work. to smell ; but she made no remark on it to him, she only looked into his face, and said, '^Do you really care much for smoking, Archie?" "Why, yes, I really do, perhaps because I have always been accustomed to it ; I suppose it is a bad habit, though, like many other bad habits, it's very agreeable; but if it is unplea- sant to you, darling, I v^-ill try and leave it off." " Not for the w^orld ! The idea of giving up anything you enjoyed to please one! I am afraid, Archie, even if you had a vice, and loved it, I should let you keep it." "You have been well trained in the true art of ruling, ma belle,'' he said, looking fondly on her sweet face. " When a woman is will- ing to yield, she is pretty sure of getting her own way in the end." " But I hope my way will always be yours, Archie," she answered, " for I always fancy that whatever you do must be right ; even if I Off to the War, 135 thought you were wrong, I am afraid I should not have courage to scold you." She paused a moment, and her smile died away, as she added regretfully — "Ah! but it must be a long time before I have an opportunity of trying. Is it really true that you must go to-night f ' "I must indeed, love. I wish the evil hour could be delayed, but even if it were, our parting would be as painful to-morrow as to- day." " You look on all things with a philosophical eye; I cannot. Only think what happiness a day may give us. If you could only stay, think how many more looks, and words, and pleasant memories I should have to treasure up when you are gone 1" " The longer I stay the more loth I shall be to go," he answered. " If anything disagreeable is to happen, I like to take the bull by the horns, face it at once, and have it over. If a cloud is hovering over me, I would rather it burst at once." 136 A Hero's Work. "There is the difference between you and me. I would rather keep it off as long as I could. Kemember the passage in Hood's ' Oddi- ties,' where he says that some people go to meet trouble halfway, whereas, if they would stay within doors, and look another way, sorrow might forget to call on them." " That is a different matter ; he speaks of ills that are uncertain, I of those that are in- evitable, as inevitable as is my departure to- night." "I wish I could forget it," said Lena, with a sigh. "The idea of your going seems to throw a cloud over everything to-day." "I will show you a way to make it bright, to me, if not to yourself. Let this day of the week be consecrated to me, dearest ; think of me, write to me, play over my favourite airs, do all the things I love best, and even, if you can, make a pilgrimage to the very brook where we are going now." "I will! I will!" said Lena, catching eagerly Off to the War. 137 at the idea. "That is a good thought of yours, Archie. I shall be the happiest pilgrim in the world." They were emerging from the shadow of over- arching trees into the broad, bright sunshine, and, as the light fell on Lena's upturned face, no more charming picture of youthful loveli- ness could have been found. A rosy flush was on her cheeks — partly the effect of exercise, partly arising from the enthusiastic spirit within her. Her eyes, always beautiful, were now ra- diant with the light of love and the glory of youth. Her face had something of that rapt, holy expression with which some young saints are pictured ; a love half human, half divine, lighting up every feature, as though it were the offering of the soul's adoration at some favourite shrine; but Lena's god, Lena's idol, was no in- visible saint ; he was by her side, showering down upon her the incense of the passionate love awakened by her spiritualized beauty. Once more the old story, old as the hills, 138 A Hero's Work. and yet for ever new, was told ; and the old scene from life's drama was rehearsed. All around them was fair and beautiful- — joy- might have painted the scene, and angels written the programme. Love, Hope, and Youth played each a part. Will they weary of the business, and yield to other less accomplished actors? — or will they play on through all the varying changes and shifting scenes of life, until the curtain falls, the lights die out, and Time's un- erring hand gathers up the faded flowers and broken faith, and over the ashes of human love scatters the waters of oblivion. The two paced on, uttering fond follies and passionate protestations, such as we all have heard or uttered in our early days, and which were sweeter to our ears then than all the elo- quence and wisdom of the world have been since; yet we are half ashamed to look back to them, when time has steadied our wit and sobered our judgment. I do not know why it should be so, for the spring of life is like the Off to the War. 139 season of spring; according to its geniality or gloom, and upon its showers and sunshine, de- pend the blossoms of summer, the mellow fruits of autumn ; but we English are a race of prac- tical people, who too often, as soon as we are past the flush of youth, ignore the memory of the passion and poetry which helped to make it joyous. Archibald and Lena strolled on, and when words were wanting, looks answered looks ; their eyes were more eloquent than words, for they spoke the unutterable thoughts of the soul. They reached the brook at last; the "forget- me-nots" were abundant, and covered the water with an azure dotted carpet. Archibald declared he would not pluck even one; they must all be gathered by her hand, or he should not value them. After some light laughter and merry badinage, he threw himself upon the bank, and watched her as she went gaily about her task, warbling snatches of songs, and now and then pelting him with wild flowers. At last she de- 140 A Hero's Work, clared she was tired; she came and sat down by him, with her lap full of the tiny blue-eyed flowers, and began to arrange them. This was soon done; but then she had nothing to tie them up with. Archibald suggested that a tress of her own hair, tied in a true lover's knot, would be a very appropriate finish to the bouquet. "You can't have it, Archie, for even if I were inclined to part with a lock, I have got nothing to cut it with." " But I have," he answered, drawing from his pocket a little morocco-case, a gentleman's pocket- companion, containing scissors, tweezers, cork- screw, and sundry other useful articles. "You see, I am provided for all emergencies," he added, smiling, and without more ado he took off her hat. " Well, I suppose you must have it," she said, shaking down her bright hair ; " but the particular lock must be of my own selection, or I shall have my head disfigured for the next six months." Off to the War. 141 "Don't talk of being disfigured, darling," he said; "only think of what the next six months may do for me! I can hardly expect to pass unscathed through this terrible war ; and, after all, I may return to you but a poor, maimed, broken-down soldier." Of the possibility of not returning at all, Archibald never thought. A shade of sadness crossed Lena's face, while he continued — " And perhaps you will change your mind, and refuse to be my wife after all ?" '* Well, perhaps I may," she answered, shak- ing off the cloud, and trying to speak as lightly as he did. " A woman has always a right to change her mind, you know, and I don't know whether damaged goods ought to be available in the matrimonial market." " But damaged in the service of your coun- try, Lena — surely some allowance ought to be made for that ?" " Oh ! of course ; and in such cases the country makes a liberal allowance, I believe?" 142 A Hero's Work. " Verijy^ he answered, with a wry face. " You cannot expect the ladies to be equally liberal ; but I am afraid, in a legal point of view, I should still be liable. You only pro- mised mc a hand and a heart, and if you bring those back from the war, I fear I shall look over all other defects, and take you — unless, indeed, you grow unbearably conceited, for the loss of a limb is sometimes the boast and glory of a man's life, you know." Thus they chattered on, half in jest, and half in earnest, until the hair was tastefully arranged in a true lover's knot, and fastened with a long blade of grass ; then Captain Dun- das proposed that they should walk on to St. Anne's Hill. Lena cast a rueful glance to- wards the hill, which w^as very steep, and full half a mile from where they sat. She was not accustomed to any greater exertion before breakfast than a saunter through their own grounds ; she felt tired, and by no means in- clined for any more walking. Off to the War. 143 "Well," she said, half hesitating, "perhaps we had better not go on any farther, Archie, or we shall be late for breakfast." " Oh ! they won't wait," he answered, care- lessly ; " they know we are out for a stroll, and can't be timed to a minute. Come along. You are not tired, are you f " Oh ! no," she answered, rising, and trying to look brave and strong. " Well, then, do come," he said, leading her in the direction of the hill. At first she had a great mind to tell him that she really did feel too tired to go any further ; but then she thought it was selfish to refuse to go with him, when it was evident he so much wished she should ; so she yielded her inclination to his, and cheerfully strolled on by his side. When they reached the brow of the hill, she felt amply repaid for her exertion. The country for miles round lay before them, in a beautiful panoramic view ; the river wound like a thread of shining silver through 144 A Heroes Work, the meadows, and the clusters of fir-trees in tlie distance made a beautiful background to the prospect. They sat down to rest themselves before returning homewards, and looked upon the varied scenery, enjoying the fresh, invigorat- ing breeze. " How often you have come and gone from Crofton, Archie !" said Lena, after a long pause, " and yet I have never felt our parting as I feel it now." " No wonder, dearest ; of course our positions are changed since we have acknowledged we love one another." " But I have loved you ever since I can remember. I always associated you with every- thing that was heroic, brave, and good. You ' would be astonished," she added, smiling, " if you knew the awful dangers you have over- come, and the beautiful princesses you have freed from imaginary enchantment, in my mind ; you were the hero of every fairy tale I read, and now you are going to be a hero in reality." Off to the War. 145 "I hope so," he answered, quietly. "But I must have no rival, Archie," she added, playfully ; " you may love honour and glory much, but you must love Lena more, for I expect you to love me always, and for ever." "Ay, dearest, for ever and for ever," he an- swered, with more fervour and tenderness than usual in his tone. They sat a long time there on the hill; they knew they should have few opportunities for indulging in a tete-a-tete during the rest of the day. When they returned to the Kectory, break- fast had been over some time. The Rector was occupied with parish business; Mrs. Carlton was busy with her household ; and Grace was sitting with her apron full of gay-coloured worsted, which she w^as endeavouring to assort into something like order. " Why, Lena, how pale you look !" exclaimed Captain Dundas, as Lena, thoroughly exhausted, threw off her hat, and sank down in the nearest VOL. I. L 146 A Hero's Work. seat. " My darling, you are over-tired, I am afraid you have walked too far ; and it was all my doing — you only went to please me !" " Oh ! no, it is not the length of the walk, Archie dear," she answered; "I certainly do feel tired, but you know I never walk much before breakfast, and it is now nearly eleven o'clock." "Then I daresay you are hungry; you have fasted too long," he said ; " you will be better when you have eaten something. Do, Grace, be quick, and let us have some breakfast." "You ought to be a Turk," said Grace, rising, however, to do his bidding; "you issue your orders with so much authority." Lena did not recover herself for some time ; she felt languid and tired, and had a headache nearly all day. Mr. Carlton observed it when he came in, and rated Captain Dundas for al- lowing her to overtask her strength. "It was all my fault, papa," said Lena, com- ing to the rescue; "I wished to go, and I so Off to the War, 147 enjoyed my walk, that I quite forgot we had to come back again." There was a great deal to be done on this, the last day that Captain Dundas could spend at Crofton. There were many visits in the neighbourhood which he felt in courtesy bound to pay, before he left the country to begin his career on the field of battle ; he had only been in the village four or five days, and these he had naturally devoted as much as possible to Lena, and left all matters of business or duty until the last day. Accordingly, he went out at mid-day to make a round of visits, and did not return to the Eectory until late in the evening, long after the family dinner was over; but that did not matter, he said, he had dined at an inn. " And I have brought back a little souvenir for you," he whispered, drawing Lena to the window. "I could not get exactly what I wanted, for these country jewellers have but a scanty, ill-assorted stock, but 1 have done the L 2 148 A Hero's Work. best I could." Saying this he drew from his pocket a little box wrapped in tissue paper; this he carefully opened, and took from it an elegant bracelet, of two golden serpents coiling one around another, with emerald and diamond eyes. " Oh, how beautiful !" exclaimed Lena, " and how kind of jou, dear Archie, in the midst of all your hurry and bustle, to think of me !" " Kind !" he repeated, looking on her beaming face, and baring her arm that he might fit on the trinket. '^ My darling, to have such a pri- vilege as this is worth fifty bracelets." He lingered lovingly over his task, and more than once pressed his lips to the soft round arm, before he succeeded in fastening the clasp, as he did which, she felt a slight prick, as though the point of a pin had entered her arm. The tea was brought in almost directly; and the lamps lighted. Lena, anxious to show her Off to the War, 149 lover's gift, that it might be admired by the rest of the family, at once went forward to the table, held out her arm, and showed the jewels sparkling in the light. Mr. and Mrs. Carlton praised the elegance of the present, and compli- mented Captain Dundas on his taste in choos- ing it. Grace, having observed it closely, ex- claimed, " What an odd, and rather unpleasant idea !" ' "What is an unpleasant idea?" inquired Ar- chibald, sharply. "That of twining a pair of nasty serpents round a lady's wrist," she answered, saucily; "it is suggestive, Mr. Archibald, to say the least of it; and look," she exclaimed, catching hold of her sister's hand, and pointing to a single drop of blood on her arm, " it has wounded her already !" Her exclamation of course drew all eyes to the bracelet, and the arm she held full in the light. Lena coloured with vexation as she heard her sister's inconsiderate remark. Mr. 150 A Hero's Work. Carlton rebuked Grace sharply; Mrs. Carlton looked vexed and said nothing. But Archi- bald's eyes darkened and flashed, as he exclaimed authoritatively, "Give it nie back, Lena, give it me back. I will grind it to powder beneath my feet ! I little thought," he added, more gently, " that my parting gift would give you pain." " Oh ! it is nothing — nothing," answered Lena, interrupting him eagerly, "a mere scratch, it is all right now !" She wiped the single drop of blood from her arm, and held it out to him as fair and stainless as ever. " I was not thinking of that," he said, "though I am grieved that my awkwardness should have given you a moment's pain. I was thinking of j^our ill-nature," he added, address- ing Grace, "it reminds me that there is often more poison in an ill-regulated tongue than in the fangs of fifty such harmless snakes as mine." Off to the War. 151 " Of course that elegant simile applies to me," answered Grace. " And you deserve it," said Mr. Carlton, with unusual gravity. "If you wished to give your sister pain, you might have spared her for this night, at least." "I am sure I meant no harm, papa. I did not think I should offend anybody. I was only in jest." " Such jests had better remain unspoken." "Archie has got so dreadfully tetchy lately," murmured Grace, half inclined to cry. "If I had called Lena a serpent, or a tiger either, she would not have minded it the least ; but if I have wounded Mr. Archie's sensibilities, I'm sure I beg his pardon." " Say no more about it, Grace," answered Archie, " I daresay you spoke unthinkingly, and, after all, it does not much matter; Lena does not take it to heart. You must be punished though, Grace; suppose we banish you to the piano for the rest of the evening ?" 152 A Hero's Work. "You let her off too easily, Archie," said Mr. Carlton, and was doubly attentive to him, evidently wishing to make up for his daughter's folly. After a little general conversation, Mr. and Mrs. Carlton retired to the library; Grace obeyed orders, and played till she was tired, then sat down and fidgeted with her netting till bed-time ; Archibald and Lena managed to amuse themselves without extraneous assistance. They were to retire to rest early, as the mail- train, by which Captain Dun das returned to London, passed through Bradbrook (which was three miles distant) at five in the morning. Before they separated for the night, Mr. Carl- ton called Captain Dundas into his study, to say a few words to him before they parted. Lena waited in the drawing-room, wondering what her father could have to say, and trust- ing it was nothing that could rufile her lover's temper; she knew that slight things had power to vex him. She was greatly relieved when, Off to the War, 153 after half an hour's absence, he returned, and answered her inquh'ies smilingly. "Your father has been giving me a lecture, dearest, that would not have disgraced the greatest moralist living; he was so eloquent, so wise, and — may I say it, love?" " Say anything." " So tedious then, that henceforth I shall associate him in my mind with Dry-as-dust." "Then it must be diamond dust," said Lena. "He loves us so much that he is perhaps over- anxious for our welfare. He would wish you to be the best, bravest, and noblest man in all the world." "The essence of all virtues, dearest, concen- trated in the spirit of his own son-in-law." There was something in his tone which jarred upon Lena's ear ; she looked quickly into his face, and said anxiously, "I don't know how far you are in earnest, Archie ; surely you cannot blame papa for loving his child too much ?" 154 A Hero's Work. "Not for loving you too much, but for trust- ing me too little. I do believe your excellent stepmother has been putting in a word against me. Instinctively I hate that woman, Lena. But don't let us waste time talking of her ; this is the last hour we may spend together for many months, perhaps years. I don't know how it is, but I feel more sad at parting with you than I believed I should. I am half afraid that some envious cloud will rise up and snatch you from me." He drew her tenderly to his side ; she gazed upon him with perfect love and trust, and an- swered, "It must snatch me to another world, then, for in this I am yours only." The next half hour passed quickly — too quickly for them both, as they sat talking over their hopes, fears, and wishes for the future. The lamps burnt dimly, and were almost out, when Mr. Carlton put his head in at the door, saying. Off to the War, 155 "Come, my child, I have given you time enough to say ^ good night,' you must go to bed now." "In five minutes, papa " "And then you would want five more, and five more still, until the night was worn away. No, my child, to bed this minute! — the sooner such partings as yours are over, the better. Say good night, and part at once." " I shall see you in the morning, Archie T said Lena, looking inquiringly in her lover's face. "I think not," he answered; "I ought to be some miles on my journey before you will be out of bed." One long look, a lingering kiss and pressure of the hand, and they had parted. "At what hour did you say I was to start, Guardyf asked Captain Dundas, as he took his candlestick. "I have ordered the chaise round at four o'clock. The mail-train passes through Brad- 156 A Hero's Work brook at five — you will just be in time to catch it. Good night, my dear boy, and God bless you ! " The two men shook hands warmly, and parted. During the night, a brisk wind sprang up, and increased till it became almost a storm. It went shrieking and howling round the house, and moaning mournfully down the chimneys, rising into a wild wail, like a spirit in trouble. When the wind partially died away, the rain began to fall, and pattered against the windows in a melancholy measure. Lena was restless, she could not sleep ; she got up, wrapped a shawl round her shoulders, and sat shivering, counting the time as the quarters struck from the old church tower, and looking out upon the clouded sky. Presently the moon shone out from among the dark masses of broken cloud, which drifted slowly from before its face, and left it unobscured and bright. She heard the clock strike the half hour past three ; then she un- Off to the War. 157 fastened the door, and descended noiselessly to the breakfast-room, where coffee had been ordered for Captain Dundas previous to his departure. But Lena resolved that his last meal at the Eectory should not be a cheerless, comfortless repast, attended only by a drowsy, unwilling maid-servant, with no one to bid him God bless him as he left the threshold. She had the fire and the lamps lighted, the hearth swept, and the breakfast prepared in as neat and orderly a fashion as it would have been if the whole family had been expected to as- semble. In due time Captain Dundas came down, dressed for his journey, expecting to swallow a hasty cup of coffee, and be gone. Great was his surprise at the cheerful aspect of the room. There was the bright fire crackling in the grate, the steaming coffee, crisp toast, and new laid eggs on the table; and, above all, Lena smiling a welcome to him. " My dearest Lena !" he exclaimed, " I did 158 A Hero's Work. not expect such a treat as this — it is the most agreeable surprise I have had in all my life!" " You have no right to be surprised, Archie," said Lena ; " you know well enough that I would sit up all night only to hear the last echo of your footstep, or catch the last glimpse of your shadow. But you do not know half of what you owe me yet — I have made the toast and boiled the eggs myself ! Sarah seemed so stupid and sleepy, that as soon as she had lighted the fire, I sent her back to bed ; and do you know, Archie, dear, I have been thinking how happy in some respects poor people must be ; they depend so entirely on each other for all their comforts ; they do everything for one another; and I should like to do everything for you, work for you, cook for you, and attend to you myself." "You may one day have a chance of exer- cising your domestic talents for my benefit, dearest; for after we are married, I shall al- Off to the War, 159 ways strive to take my little wife everywhere with me." " Will you, indeed ?" said Lena, brightening at the thought; "that will be delightful! I always envy the Countess Brenhilda, when I read of her going to war with her husband. I am sure, if you were in danger, I should be as brave as any man !" " You small fragile thing !" he answered, ca- ressing her as he would a loving child ; " the first sound of the trumpet would scare away your wits." All the while that they were talking, Lena was ministering to his creature comforts, filling his cup and replenishing his plate till he had made a substantial meal. She had made up her mind to part with him without a tear, if possible, though she knew it would be a hard struggle; for more than once, even while she was speaking, and trying to be cheerful, she had some difficulty in keeping back the rising tears. 160 A Hero's Work. Presently they heard the chaise drive over the rough stones of the stable-yard, and roll rapidly round to the Kectory gate. Captain Dundas sprang up, and clasped her in his arms, whispering, amidst a shower of kisses, "No tears, dearest; don't send me away down-hearted. Let our last glance be sunshine, our last words hopeful and strong. Let me hear you bid God speed me, with a brave strong spirit, such as becomes a soldier's wife." " I will," she answered enthusiastically, looking up in his face. " God bless and speed you, my own heart's love !" A moment's sacred silence, and then she added, "You will write to me often? Kemember, I shall live upon your let- ters, and I shall watch, you do not know how anxiously, for every scrap of news that comes to England. You will take care of yourself, Archie, for my sake?" " Such care as a good soldier may, dearest," he answered, with his peculiar smile. Off to the War, 161 " Ah ! I know what that means !" and though her voice had a touch of sorrow in it, her eye dwelt proudly on her lover's face. He answered both the look and the words, saying, *^ It means, dearest, that wherever there is greatest danger, there I shall be. With God's will, the first post of peril shall be always mine; the rest w^e must leave to Providence." " We shall be late, sir, I'm afraid," said the groom, at the door ; " it's as much as we shall do to catch the train, drive as hard as we may." One more hasty embrace, and Captain Dun- das hurried out to the gate, sprang into the chaise, and was driven rapidly off. Lena stood in the doorway, and followed him out into the cold damp twilight, with her spirit's eye, until the sound of the wheels had died in the distance. Then, and not till then, she be- came conscious that the morning air had chilled her to the heart ; she closed the door, and re- turned pale and shivering to her bed. VOL. I. M 162 CHAPTER VIII. THE PRODIGAL SON. ' His heart was formed for softness, warped to wrong, Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long ; His early dreams of good outstripped the truth. And troubled manhood followed baffled youth ; With thought of years in phantom chase misspent. And wasted powers, for better purpose lent." HEN Mrs. Carlton had been at the Rectory but two or three weeks, Lena had discovered that there were some few things in the world of which she was entirely ignor- ant; had become unconsciously in the habit of adopting her stepmother's opinions, paying re- spect to her wishes, and, indeed, seeking every possible opportunity of pleasing her. One morn- ing she said to her sister, The Prodigal Son, 163 "Do you knowj Grace, I think we will ask Mrs. Carlton to choose some nice books for us to read; not amusing ones, of course, those we can choose for ourselves, but something instruct- ive and improving." "/ don't want to be improved," interrupted Grace, pettishly, "and if I did, she is the last person I should apply to for advice, or any- thing else; I hate her. But I see how it is, Lena, she has changed you, as she has changed everything else in the house but me. I do believe you love her better than you love me!" "How could I ever love her better than I love you, Gracie?" said Lena. "But I own I do not dislike her as I thought I should. Somehow or other, I do like to hear her plea- sant voice, and to see her moving about the house; she puts me in mind of a piece of living music. It's no use denying it, Grace dear, she has brought a new life into the house, and I am sure we shall be happier if M 2 164 A Hero's Work we do not struggle against her. Of course I had rather papa had never married, but, as he has married, I don't think he could have chosen a better person ; she is certainly very kind to us." " Kind !" repeated Grace. *^ Yes, I never expected she w^ould beat us, or act in any other outrageous way. After robbing us of our father, she could not very well turn us out of doors. As to her kindness, it's all a show — she is full of patronizing airs and graces. I had rather she would throw off the mask, and say at once she hates us !" ^' Hates us ! Oh ! Grace, how can you talk so ? See how beautifully she behaved about mamma's jewels; many women might have con- sidered them theirs by right, and might have been generous enough to give us some few trifles — but the first thing she did was to divide them equally between us, and she spoke so kindly and affectionately, that, for my part, I have liked her better ever since. Indeed, she The Prodigal Son. 165 seems to consider our feelings in every way," continued Lena, warming in defence of their stepmother. "Only last night, when your head ached, no one could have been more tender and kind than she was ; she bathed your temples, made you comfortable on the sofa, and would not read aloud lest it should disturb you. It was not exactly what she did, but her way of doing it, that I felt ; and you were not over- gracious either, for even papa noticed it, and said as much when you were gone to bed." " There ! I thought so," exclaimed Grace^ with a sudden outburst of anger. "So she talks of me behind my back ! She marshals her virtues side by side with my vices, and overwhelms me with her odious attentions, to show papa what an exemplary wife he has got, and what an ungrateful daughter! You have quite opened my eyes, Lena — now I quite un- derstand the game she is playing !" Lena saw it was no use arguing with Grace in her present mood ; she was determined to 166 A Herds Work. look on all Mrs. Carlton's actions through the distorted medium of her own imagination. Her spirit was in a continual state of rebellion, and her manner was in consequence irritable and peevish. She had resolved to dislike her step- mother for no other cause than that she was her father's wife ; and Grace was one of those unhappy people who, having once avowed a de- termination, cling to it with all the force of a weak and obstinate nature. She would not ac- knowledge herself wrong, and made herself really as unhappy as she imagined herself to be. She shut her heart against Lena ; somehow or other, whenever the sisters were alone to- gether, Mrs. Carlton's name was sure to be mentioned, either directly or indirectly; it al- ways roused a sneer, or some ill-natured re- mark from one, and a warm defence from the other; at last Lena felt it necessary to avoid the subject. Thus their intercourse became re- strained, and a sort of estrangement grew up between them. The Prodigal Son. 167 Grace fancied she obtained no sympathy at home, so she sought it abroad, and found many people ready to sympathise and condole with her, on her self -created troubles. It seemed so natural for a stepmother to behave ill to her husband's daughters, that few people thought of suggesting that possibly the fault might not be all on one side. Thanks to her step-daughter Grace, Mrs. Carlton's sayings and doings were discussed, commented upon, and carried from house to house ; the poor lady would have been greatly astonished if she had heard them, and^ certainly would have failed to recognize .herself, as she was reflected in the minds of her neigh- bours. Things were in this state when Laurence Carlton came home. On his arrival at the Rectory, he was closeted with his father for nearly two hours before he made his appearance among the rest of the family. At first the voices of father and son were loud and angry ; by degrees they became more subdued; but 168 A Hero's Work. there had been much exciting talk between them ; and when Laurence came forth from his father's study, there was a fierce flush upon his face: his lips were compressed as though he had much ado to control his wrath. He paused a moment to recover himself before he went into the drawing-room, where his sisters were eagerly awaiting him. He was certainly a handsome young man, so far as fine eyes and correct features constitute beauty; but his face wanted a certain refined expression. He was three or four-and-twenty, but looked older ; he was pale and w^orn, as though he had outrun his youth, and lived past all youthful feelings. Grace rushed to him as he entered the room. ^' Oh ! Laurie, dear, I am so glad you have come home !" she exclaimed, embracing him wath a vehemence that drew from him a half serious, half laughing remonstrance — " There, that will do ! Why, Grace, I never had such a bear's hug in all my life ! You will kill me with kindness, and no mistake !" The Prodigal Son. 169 "A timely warning for me," said Lena, laughing. "Never fear, you shall not have too warm a reception from me — there's just the tip of my finger, and I won't even give you a kiss — you may come and take one !" " That's a fair challenge !" exclaimed Grace, half bitterly ; " with a little practice, I be- lieve you would be a first-rate coquette, Lena." " Why, Grace, what's the matter ?" said her brother, turning from Lena to her, "there's a cloud upon your brow as though it was going to rain tears !" He was right, there was a cloud upon her brow; she was hurt at his reception of her affectionate greeting. She had looked forward with over-much longing to his coming home; the more she had estranged herself from Lena and the rest of the family, the more her thoughts had clung to Laurence. He should be her confidant ; she would tell him all her troubles — he would be sure to sympathise with her ; so she thought, and expected him all the 170 A Hero's Work. more eagerly. But his first words had chilled her. At any other time she would perhaps have made a laughing rejoinder, but now she could not speak. Laurence put his arm round her waist, drew her to him, and kissed her in his old way, saying, " Why, Gracie, how cool you are — not a bit like my merry, bright-eyed little sister ! What's the matter, eh ? Has the ogress eaten up your gay spirits f he added, significantly. " Hush ! here she comes !" said Lena, as a rustle of silk was heard in the passage ; and the next moment Mrs. Carlton entered the room. " I am afraid you will think I am very slow to welcome you, Laurence," she said, cordially extending her hand to him, "but the fact is, I have been working in the garden, and your father has only just told me of your arrival." " I dare say," said Laurence, " he would rather have communicated the pleasing fact that I was a thousand miles off ; though I have re- The Prodiqal Son, 171 turned like the Prodigal Son of old, I have not met with the prodigal's reception." " No, indeed/' replied Mrs. Carlton, smiling ; " we shall sacrifice no fatted calf in honour of your return ; we must reserve our rejoicings until we reap the first fruits of your re- pentance." " They will never ripen without sunshine, and I am afraid the ruling atmosphere of this house is one of clouds and storms." " Never fear but we shall be able to extract some gleams of sunshine," said Mrs. Carlton ; adding, with a sweet smile, " at any rate, so long as you remain here, I hope you will be as happy as a son ought to be in his father's house — I shall do all in my power to make home really home." "I am sure you will," replied Laurence, who seemed to feel the unaffected kindness of her manner, as he lounged into a chair oppo- site her ; " but I am afraid I shall be more plague than profit even to you." 172 A Hero's Work. "Well, I shall be content to bear the plague, if the profit will revert to you." "Query that last," he said; "I fear I am an unprofitable subject altogether — but I say," lie added, " do you know how long my father means to keep me here ?" "No," answered Mrs. Carlton, surprised at such an inquiry, as he had only just come home ; " but I suppose until your father can find some suitable employment for you." " It will be a long time, then," he said, " for we don't exactly agree as to the meaning of the word ' suitable ;' I w^ish he would let me choose for myself." "No doubt he would, if you were to explain your views to him." " Well," answered Laurence, deliberately, " that would be a rather difficult matter, for I have not exactly got any views on the subject. I have only a general notion of the sort of thing I should like." " The fact is, Laurie," said Grace, " you The Prodigal Son. 173 would like to live a roving, vagabond life ; you had always a turn that way. You know, when you were quite a boy, you ran away, intending to go to sea — indeed, I believe you had found a ship, but you thought better of it, and came home again." An expression of half regret, and half anger, crossed Laurence's face as he replied — ^'Yes — I came home again, not because I changed my mind, or repented of my choice, but because I — " he paused a second, and then half shaded his face, as he continued, "if I had gone then, it would have broken my mother's heart ; she was in bad health, and I was afraid I might never see her alive again — that was why I came back." Mrs. Carlton felt her interest in the young man greatly increased; she saw that, beneath that general reckless, blase exterior, there was a heart; the next consideration would be how to reach it. Laurence thrust his hands into his pockets, 174 A Hero's Work. lounged back in his chair, and added, addressing Mrs. Carlton, "What Grace says is quite true. I had at one time quite a mania for the sea ; I could turn my thoughts to nothing else. If I had not been thwarted then, I should not have been such a scapegrace as I am now — but it's all my father's fault." " Oh ! Laurie," said Lena, with the slight- est touch of gentle reproach in her tone, " I am sure papa meant everything for the best. He wanted you to maintain an honourable position in the world, and he put you in the way to get it." " Some folk have decidedly narrow notions of an ' honourable position,' " replied Laurence. " My father thought it was only to be won at the bar, or in the pulpit; and," he added, making a wry face, "I had no call to either. I give my father credit for good intentions, Lena — I dare say he meant to do right, but he set the wrong way about it, that's all." The Prodigal Son. 175 "We can none of us do more than mean to do right/' said Mrs. Carlton, gently; "and even if our intents miscarry, I don't think we should be held responsible, at any rate not con- demned. We may sow the seed, but we cannot tell if it will bear good fruit. Parents have a very serious duty to perform ; it is the place of every father to guide and direct his sons in the choice of a profession, and sometimes to choose for them, when they are too young or too thoughtless to choose for themselves; and con- sidering that we so often mistake ourselves, and apply ourselves to courses for which we are totally unfitted, it is no wonder if we sometimes make the same mistake with regard to others." "It seems to me that life is full of mistakes altogether," said Laurence. "Nothing seems to be in the right place,, and everybody seems to stand in everybody else's way. If I had made the world, I would have made it different." " You would have filled it with dogs, guns, and horses, Laurie," said Grace, archly. 176 A Hero's Work. " Or have brought out an improved edition of human nature," observed Lena, " corrected and amended by the ^Life of Laurence Carl- ton!'" " Rather presumptuous, is it not," said Mrs. Carlton, "to speak of improving God's works? He made all things perfect." "' Except man," interrupted Laurence. " He left him in a confoundedly imperfect state." " He left to man himself the noble task of self- improvement." "Yes," replied Laurence, "but that noble task is sometimes a very difficult one, and we don't always know how to set about it. How- ever, if I were that way inclined, I should have plenty of time for self-improvement here at Crofton. I suppose it was a special act of Provi- dence that sent me here ; though what you mean to do with me I can't think, and I'm sure I don't know what to do with myself. My natural inclination will decidedly be in favour of suicide." The Prodigal Son. 177 There was something in Laurence's tone and manner that surprised, yet interested Mrs. Carl- ton painfully. It was evident that his energies had all run to waste ; he had lived an idle, profligate, useless life ; he had been so often told he was good-for-nothing, that he was con- tent to believe it, and never tried to become better. He had been thwarted in the first eager desire of his youth, and because he could not obtain what he most wished for, like a spoilt child he threw away the good that was within his reach. He had evidently been mis- managed altogether; had been driven where he should have been led. There was no har- monious feeling between father and son ; per- haps it was the father's fault. Though men are generally tender and loving to their daughters, they are too often harsh and exacting towards their sons, visiting slight sins with heavy punishment; they seem to fancy that masculine humanity must be coerced into good conduct, and, insisting that strict measures are necessary VOL. I. N 178 A Herds Work. in the training of boys, often enforce their wishes, not only with hard words, but with blows, forpjettlnfT that every stroke upon the body falls also upon the spirit, bruising and injuring both. Some symptoms of such too common treatment struck Mrs. Carlton in her first interview with her husband's son. One thing was very evident, if Laurence had disap- pointed his father, he had also disappointed himself; she could see he was far from happy. She determined to look with an indulgent eye on Laurence, with all his faults. She had caught the expression of his face, during his brief reference to his mother, and augured well from it. "He has a heart," she thought, "and I must find my way to it." Grace seized the first opportunity of carry- ing Laurence off into the garden, where she could pour out her thoughts uninterruptedly. Laurence was quite amazed to hear such an unfavourable account of their stepmother. The Prodigal Son. 179 " You surprise me, Gracie," he said ; " she seemed rather a decent sort of woman, I thought ; her manner was so kind that she took me in completely. But that's the way with you women, if we were to judge of you by your faces, you would all be angels, and — but there, I won't say any uncivil things on my first day at home. I can see how the land lies with you, poor little Gracie ! " he added caress- ingly ; " but how do she and Lena get on — they seemed to be very good friends ?" " Yes," replied Grace, bitterly ; " she was de- . term in ed to have one ally in the house, and Lena took to her from the first — she consults her, takes her advice, and copies her in every- thing. Oh ! it's mean and contemptible, the way she truckles to her; but I never will — never ! She may make my life miserable — she does that now ; but she can't compel me to alter my old ways, or to give her a kind word, or to seem gracious to her! I never do — I won't, for I hate her, and I want her to know it !" n2 180 A Hero's Work " Why, what a virago you are, Grace !" said her brother, laughing at her vehemence ; " to measure you by the length of your tongue, I sliould say that you were a match for the most evil-minded stepmother that ever lived. How has she managed to get so deeply into your black books?" "By doing everything in her power to make my life miserable." "Everything! but tell me one thing? She must be an arch-hypocrite ; to judge by the look of her, I never should have thought there was a system of persecution going on — I wonder my father allows it !" "How oddly you talk, Laurie!" said Grace, with a puzzled look at her brother ; " of course she does nothing very dreadful — indeed, it would be difficult to find fault with her in any one particular thing. All she does seems to be proper and right — I only know that somehow, since she has been here, nobody seems to love me as they did before. She has set papa The Prodigal Son. 181 afi^ainst me by some vile underhanded means, I am sure of that; and as for Lena, she is quite changed — I am never happy at home now. Sometimes I think I will come to live with you in London." " Come and live with me !" repeated Laur- ence ; " for heaven's sake don't think of such a thing — it would be impossible — you little know the kind of life I lead !" His thoughts seemed to turn from her petty cares to his own troubles ; after a slight pause, he added, with some vehemence, "You talk of being wretched, Grace — what must I be ? Remember, I have returned home a disgraced and dishonoured man — disgraced and dishonoured far beyond your understanding. My father knows a little — not much ; and God forbid he should know more ! He looks upon me already with coolness and distrust ; we had words this morning, his eye reproached me more bitterly than his tongue; you should have seen and heard him, Grace, as he lectured me an 182 A Hews Work. hour ago ; and the worst of it is, I feel I deserve it all !" "Never mind, Laurie," said Grace, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder ; " it must be some comfort to know that you have only got what you deserve. Look how 1 am punished !" "You?" exclaimed Laurence. "Yes; what have I done to deserve a step- mother? And yet I have got one!" 183 CHAPTER IX. ADRIENNE. " Oh ! think what deep wrongs must have blotted out First love, then reverence, in a child's prone mind, Till it thus vanquish shame and fear !" HREE Sundays had now passed since Captain Dundas had left Crofton, and three times also the same bright vision of beauty had appeared in the Manor-house pew. Excepting these apparitions, neither she nor any other member of the family had been seen abroad. What manner of people were they? — where did they come from ? — and what were they good for? These and similar questions were put one to another by the good people of Crofton, and answered with a shrug, or some 184 A Hero's Work. suggestive gesture. A hundred rumours were afloat respecting them ; but none to the credit of the inhabitants of the Manor-house. Some reported that it was a private mad-house, and that they had heard the shrieks of the lunatics; others said that it was a retreat for Josiah Jebb's amiable criminals, who were too delicate to bear the discipline of prison life ; while not a few maintained that it was nothing more nor less than an Agapemone, where young Protestant English girls were taken in, and prepared for celestial joys by being taught to despise all terrestrial happiness. Nothing, however, did the people of the Manor-house hear of these reports and town- talk ; how should they, when they held no com- munication with any one? Their out-of-door business was chiefly transacted by a foreign man-servant, who understood the English ver- nacular only just sufficient to trade in sump- tuary articles. When he did comprehend a prying question, he had discretion enough to Adrienne. 185 return an evasive answer, or to put, in reply, a question of his own, directing attention to something quite opposite to what was required to be told, and thus jeter de la poudre aux yeux of the inquirer, as he was wont to say. Then there was no gaining admittance into the interior of the mansion, for the gate was guarded by the French Cerberus who catered for the family ; and when he was not at hand, no ingress could be obtained on any con- sideration. All this of course added to the mystery connected with the establishment, and to the desire to penetrate the secrets of the prison-house. Mrs. Carlton, of course, could not help hear- ing the scandalous and absurd tales afloat, but she gave no more heed to them than to the bark and yelp of a village cur, or the hiss- ing of the geese in the town fields. She felt, as the Eector's wife, that it would be only an act of politeness, even if it were not her duty, to call and leave her card upon the lady 186 A Hero's Work. of the mansion. She thought it improper to allow a family of strangers to settle in her husband's parish, without a word of welcome or a friendly offer of assistance and good offices. Besides this, she felt deeply interested in the beautiful young face which had ap- peared like a mysterious vision at church, and for a time diverted her thoughts from more serious subjects. She fancied herself a reader of character, and that in each feature of the face she could read the temper, spirit, and spe- cialities of the person she looked at — but this girl's face puzzled her ; its ever-varying expres- sion baffled every attempt to arrive at a definite conclusion. '^ If I could but speak to her," she said to Mr. Carlton, " I am sure 1 could win her. There is something in her restless eye that tells me she wants to repose upon the heart of some trustworthy friend ; her mouth bespeaks inde- cision and vacillation; and yet her chin shows self-reliance and indomitable courage. I will Adrienne. 187 therefore call at the Manor-house, if only for tliat girl's sake." Mr. Carlton was averse from her making any attempt to force an acquaintance, as he firmly believed that the new comers wished to remain in perfect seclusion ; but Mrs. Carlton insisted that it was her place to make the first ad- vance. '^ Very well, my dear," said the Rector, " do as you please; but, remember, mine is a very Protestant parish, and uneducated people are apt to look with a jealous eye upon Eoman Catholics and foreigners. Should any intimacy spring up between the inhabitants of the Manor- house and the Kectory, I do not know where it will end; difficulties are sure to arise, and troubles come upon us wholesale." " What nonsense, Edward ! Why should you suppose they are Catholics? You surely do not believe the parish clerk's tittle-tattle — the fellow is a perfect walking nuisance; he fancies, be- cause he is the town-crier, that he ought to be 188 A Hero's Work. the tale-bearer and trumpeter of the village. How can they be Romanists, when one of the family has already appeared four times at the parish church ; which is a grave offence in the Church of Rome, and can only be wiped out by absolution ? But even if they do profess an unpopular creed, why should they be avoided ? Are the English cut when they reside in France, or hunted down because they are Pro- testants? Protestant I am, as you know, to the back bone, but nothing shall induce me to be illiberal. The very essence of Protestantism is liberality. These people, I think, are greatly to be pitied — they might as well, indeed better, live in a wilderness, than among a population of uneducated Christians. But you cannot really wish me to avoid them because they are Roman Catholics and foreigners ?" "I do not wish you to avoid them," said the Rector ; " I would only have you be on your guard against the prejudices of my parishioners. Those who are not Dissenters are very low- Adrienne. 189 church men. Did I ever tell you how they served me once?" "No, my love, so tell me now," said Mrs. Carlton. " Well, you must know that my excellent friend, Colonel Goodlake, bought, during the French Revolution, a most exquisite painting of the Crucifix, supposed to be the work of Cor- reggio, and he bequeathed it to the church of Crofton, where he had sat and heard the word of God preached for forty years. This wonder- ful painting I naturally placed over the altar- piece, believing that it would be a pleasant surprise to the congregation. I never dreamed that such a painting could give offence to anybody, but I was wrong, for nearly every person left the church immediately they saw the picture, and I preached to empty benches. The next morning, ' No Popery !' was chalked on the church doors, and I received a ^Hound- robin,' couched in bitter and offensive language, condemning poor Colonel Goodlake, and abus- 190 A Heros Work, ing me for Popery, and for Roman Catholic ten- dencies. Nor could I get a single person to enter the church until I had removed the offensive painting. Since that time I have had sad up-hill work. Every attempt I made to improve the performance of the service has been regarded with suspicion, and called Popery." *^ But you have it all your own way now, papa," said Grace. " Not quite, though 1 use subtle diplomacy to obtain it. I could not, until I experienced it, have believed that any reasoning people could have an objection to painting and music, both of which, to my mind, are great aids to devotional feelings." "Is there not some danger of their occupy- ing the mind too much?" inquired Mrs. Carl- ton. "While the eye and the ear have so much to gratify them, it is possible that the spirit of devotion may be lost in the glare of art. People listen to the ravishing strains of Adrienne, 191 melody, and become wrapt in the folds of the painter's genius, instead of being subdued by the gentle and unobtrusive voice of religion." "I think not," replied the Rector. "Are we not told that in Heaven there is unceasing song? Whenever I see a man moved by music, I know he has a heart that can con- ceive no great wrong, and that it is prepared to receive the seeds of purity and truth. I have seen a man, seemingly without religion, an Atheist according to the world's judgment, yet so affected by the solemnity of our Cathedral service as to sob aloud ; and I was once present at one of our great choral festi- vals when a man, who had never in his re- membrance entered a church, fainted dead away at one of Handel's majestic choruses, and I heard that from that day forth he became a thoughtful and religious man." This style of conversation continued for a long time, branching off into various topics, as was the Rector's mode when he wanted to 192 A Hero's Work. shelve a subject; but Mrs. Carlton had the knack of alwa^^s bringing it back to the starting point, and gaining the winning-post in a gentle canter. So it was in this instance, he not only yielded to his wife's reasoning, but even gave permission to his daughters to accompany her on her visit to the maligned family. As soon as luncheon w^as over they started, and in less than a quarter of an hour they stood at the gate of the bespattered Manor House. " How lonely and dismal it looks !" whispered Lena, glancing up the avenue. ♦ "It has evidently been a long time untenanted," said Mrs. Carlton. "The whole place, the pal- ings, the gates, indeed, everything outside bear the marks of neglect. In my girlhood I used to think it a perfect paradise — but then it was my home, where I was born and bred, where some of my happiest days were spent." "Ah, that makes all the difference," answered Grace, with an air of resignation. "At one time, I used to think the Rectory a paradise ; Adrienne. 193 but my idea of a paradise is quite different now ; there was no " "Stepmother there," said* Mrs. Carlton, smil- ing ; " but never mind, Grace, it may be your fate one day to fill that unenviable position." *^ I ? Oh ! no," said Grace. " / would never tread in another woman's shoes !" Before she had time to say more, the gate was partially opened, and the tall gaunt man- servant, of whom I have already spoken, blocked up the narrow passage. The man's face was a study. Gustave Dore might have used it as a. model for his Don Quixote with advantage. It was long, thin, and careworn, the eye sunken, and the brow above it a perfect forest of bristles, more like the back a hedge-hog than anything mortal. The whole face, close-shaven, looked as if carved out of wood. Patience and endurance were its characteristics. It never could have smiled, even in its cradle. To Mrs. Carlton's inquiry whether Madame de Fontaine was at home, he curtly answered, in VOL. I. O 194 A Hero's Work broken English, " Madame, she see no stranger." "I hope she will make an exception in my favour : if you will be good enough to carry in my card to her." He twirled the card suspiciously between his fingers. "I vray glad, madame — mean sorry — but me dar not. Madame shall be vray vexed." "No, she will not," said Mrs. Carlton. "Take her my card, and I will hold you blameless. So I pray you go." There was such a sweetness and dignity in her voice and look, that the man was unable to refuse, though he complied half hesitatingly. In a few minutes he returned, saying, "Miladi shall receive you. Come here — s'il vous plait, madame." They followed him through the large lofty hall, with its oaken floor and stained-glass win- dows, and were ushered at once into the pre- sence of the lady of the mansion. There was nothing light, graceful, or luxurious surround- Adrienne. 195 ing her, either in the shape of ornaments or furniture. Heavy crimson curtains shaded a deep bay-window ; an old-fashioned mirror, with massive carved oaken frame, was over the fire- place ; there w^ere high, stiff-backed chairs and upright sofas, covered w4th Utrecht velvet, which all lovers of comfort would scrupulously avoid; and on the walls were quaint old en- gravings, but all of religious — most of them painfully religious subjects. At the further end of the room sat Madame de Fontaine, a woman advanced in years. The« most noticeable points about her were black, intense, restless eyes, and an appearance of ascetic severity, in her marked features, her frigid manner, and even in the tight, clinging folds of her severely plain black dress. A younger woman lay on a sofa near her ; and by the mantelpiece stood the beautiful girl who had attracted so much admiration from the Rector's family. She looked flushed and angry, her bright eyes flashing defiance at her 02 196 A Hero's Work, mother; but as tlie Carltons entered, a smile broke over her face like sunlight, and chased the clouds away. She made a hasty step for- ward to meet them, then checked herself, and drew back, as Madame de Fontaine bowed haughtily to her visitors. After the usual salutations, Madame de Fon- taine introduced her two daughters, Mathilde and Adrienne, apologizing for the former's in- ability to rise, as her ailment kept her entirely confined to her couch; she had been an invalid some time. She was about six and twenty, but looked considerably older, and was dressed in nunlike fashion, with a close white net cap covering her dull-coloured fair hair. She had an unhealthy, pale complexion, and seemed to be in a state of hopeless, helpless prostration, both mentally and physically. She smiled a faint wan smile, as Mrs. Carlton took her hand, spoke to her tenderly and cheeringly, and sat down by her, saying, "I am doubly glad to have made your ac- Adrienne. 197 qualntance, my dear, for since you cannot come to us we must come oftener to you, and do all we can to lighten your suffering and brighten your life." " My daughter's life is brightened from with- in," said Madame de Fontaine, sternly. "This world has no power either to increase her happiness or lessen her pain. She has been hurt in Our Lady's service, and is patient and content to suffer." " Of her patience and goodness I have no doubt/' replied Mrs. Carlton, looking compas- sionately on the poor invalid's wan face ; " but it is surely as much our duty to alleviate as to bear suffering." " I don't know," answered Madame de Fon- taine, " our two churches teach different lessons on that, as on many other subjects. How often have saints suffered self-inflicted tortures!" " Yes, but there is no proof that they were right in so suffering." "How could they be wrong? They morti- 198 A Hero's Work. fied the flesh, in order to purify the spirit." "They were no doubt ripjht in their inten- tions, but I think wrong in their practice, for I can never believe our Creator takes pleasure in the suffering of his creatures. He never sent pain and sorrow into the world to be sought after as kindly gifts; they come to us as the result of evil done; and though they may act as chasteners, they ought not to be hugged and cherished as virtues. It is no merit in any man to be self -tortured ; we should avoid both mental and physical suffering by every means in our power. Why has God made this world so beautiful, and given us power to appreciate its beauties, if we are not to enjoy them ?" "That is easily answered. The world is one wide field of temptation, a vast pitfall, covered with flowers, to catch the feet of the unwary — but woe, woe to him who stumbles !" " Ah !" said Mrs. Carlton, sighing, " I see our ways of thinking lie so far apart, that were we to wander through the realms of thought for Adrienne. 199 ever, we should never meet. To me it seems that God is the beautifier of all earthly things, that he has surrounded us with evidences of his beneficence, greatness, and glory, and that it is our duty to enjoy what he has made so fair — to tempt and to destroy is the province of the Evil One." Attracted by the unusual turn the conversa- tion had taken, the young girls had drawn near. Adrienne looked deeply interested in the ques- tion so unintentionally mooted; Mathilde flushed slightly, and bent patiently over the altar-cloth she was embroidering. As Mrs. Carlton finished speaking, Adrienne caught her hand, and ex- claimed eagerly, "That is exactly what I think, and what I often tell mamma, when she says I am wicked and doomed, because, in spite of " She checked herself, and then continued, in the same excited tone — "Because sometimes I can- not help being happy — I feel so full of life, my heart seems as if it would overflow with 200 A Hero's Work joy, for no reason except that I love to live — and I clap my hands and break out into a song, and wish I had wings like a bird — " "That you might fly away from tlie home that shelters you, like an ingrate as you are," said her mother, with cold severity; then, ad- dressing Mrs. Carlton, she added — " Gloomy as this house appears, so far as the bustle and pleasures of the world are concerned, there is no lack of excitement within it. My daughter Adrienne's turbulent spirit is for ever break- ing out in rebellion against all that is holy and right." " Against all that you consider holy and right," interrupted Adrienne, " yes — I do rebel ! I rebel against the wretchedness of my life — the gloom and misery of this miserable home — for you hate me, mother" she emphasised the word ; " and I often wish I was dead I" Mrs. Carlton was inexpressibly shocked at this sudden outburst of passion ; but she gently pressed the excited girl's hand, and said, soothingly. Adrienne. 201 " Hush ! hush ! my child ! you do not know what you are saying. Pray pardon her, Madame," she added appeahngly, " she does not know the value or meaning of her words." Madame de Fontaine's features relaxed almost into a smile, as she answered calmly, " Oh ! I am not hurt — I am accustomed to these outbreaks ; but my religion teaches me to forgive ; I wish that hers would teach her to submit." "Place her in our hands, and at least we will try to teach her." "And fail, as I have failed, from the hour she was born ; but I have now learned to consider my child's ingratitude as part of the cross I am doomed to bear on my pilgrim- age through this world, and I bear it cheer- fully." " So cheerfully," exclaimed Adrienne, bitterly, "that you have never tried to win my love, or deserve my gratitude." " Win ! — deserve !" repeated Madame de Fon- 202 A Hero's Work taine, elevating her eyebrows, in evident astonish- ment at any exertion of that kind being thought necessary. "My dear young lady," said Mrs. Carlton, "a child's love and gratitude are a mother's rights — there is no question of desert." " But there should be question of desert," per- sisted Adrienne. "Remember, you owe to your mother your life." "Why should I be grateful for that?— for the gift of a miserable life? — who could be thankful for a poisoned gift ? They who give us life should teach us how to use it, and how to make that life happy." Madame de Fontaine here interrupted her, and sternly commanded her to be silent ; then said to Mrs. Carlton, "You see the sort of life I lead with my two daughters — the one yields up all the gaieties and pleasures of this world for the glory of the next, and is happy and at peace " Adrienne, 203 " Poor Mathilde !" murmured Adrienne, bend- ing down, and kissing the thin hand of her sister. The pitying movement was not observed by her mother, who continued — *^The other sickens for the false glitter of this world's Vanity Fair, and is wretched because she is deprived of its frivolous follies. I see you compassionate her, but there is no need. Had you seen her an hour ago, you would smile at her farcical parade of her 'miserable life.' " "If it was anything to her discredit, I am glad I did not see it," said Mrs. Carlton, and she endeavoured to change the conversation, but Adrienne would not have it so. "Tell them what I was doing," she said, "or they may think I was doing something very bad." " She has been guilty of a double fault," said Madame de Fontaine ; " I sent her to her room for an hour's meditation, and I found her stand- ing before her looking-glass, with her hair hang- 204 A Heros Work. ing about her shoulders, singing and dancing like a lunatic ! This was folly and disobedience combined." Poor Adrienne looked half ashamed and half amused at this expose of her private perform- ance ; but on casting a furtive glance at Mrs. Carlton's face, she detected a lurking smile upon her lips ; this seemed to satisfy her that her behaviour was not regarded with as much severity as her mother considered it deserved, and she attempted to explain her freak. "I was in Paris last year," she said, " and I went to a ball at the British Embassy; I often think of it, and hear the music, see the lights and the gay bright dresses, and even seem to smell the perfume of the flowers again — then I sret excited — and when mamma saw me, I was dreaming it all over once more. I was ordered to meditate, and I chose a pleasant subject — that's all !" As Adrienne ended, she turned shyly to Grace Carlton, saw in her eye that she was understood, Adrienne. 205 and in a few moments the three young girls were engaged in a whispering conversation. Mrs. Carlton lowered her voice to make some excuse for Adrienne to her mother. " I see how it is," she said ; " your daughter was indulging in a little pardonable vanity — ^you will excuse her?" " No," saidMadame de Fontaine ; "in this house there is no excuse for folly, which may prove in- jurious both to body and soul. Mrs. Carlton steered clear of the point where their opinions might have clashed ; she wished to gain the confidence, or at least the toleration of the mother, in order that she might be of service to the daughters, who both struck her as being in a lonely and pitiable condition, though in different degrees. Madame de Fon- taine's appearance, icy manners, and cold cruel face revolted her; but considering herself as a visitor, perhaps an intruder, she felt doubly bound to be courteous. " I agree with you," she said, " that it is by 206 A Hero's Work. no means well for youn