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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
 
 WARP AJNTD WOOF 
 
 EEillNISCENCES OF DORIS FLEICHEE. 
 
 BY HOLME LEE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "STLV^VN HOLT's DAUGHTER," " AGAIXST WIXI. AKl- 
 TIDE," ETC. 
 
 "Quelque difE^rence qni paraisse entre ies fortunes, ii y a une certaine comptn- 
 :^ation de biens et de mans qui lea rend ^gales." — Rochefoucauld. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL 
 
 M.DCCC.LXI. 
 
 iThe right of Translation is reserved.^
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 PAOB 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 I. AvoNMOEE Church Bells 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 II. Fallen in the World 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 m. Our Family .... 
 
 15 
 
 A 
 
 
 IV. Shadows before .... 
 
 30 
 
 J 
 
 
 V. Farewell .... 
 
 42 
 
 *3 
 
 
 VI. A NEW Home .... 
 
 47 
 
 09 
 
 
 Vn. New Acquaintance 
 
 57 
 
 
 
 Vin. A SERIOUS Tea-partt 
 
 64 
 
 
 
 IX. A Personage .... 
 
 87 
 
 
 
 X. A Village Dorcas Meeting 
 
 96 
 
 
 * 
 
 XI. Visiting ..... 
 
 106 
 
 
 
 Xn. Plans and Amusements 
 
 118 
 
 
 
 XTTT. A Morning at the Priort 
 
 133 
 
 
 
 XIV. Miss Pegge Burnell's Party 
 
 152 
 
 
 
 XV. Shadows at Home 
 
 174 
 
 
 ^-v- 
 
 XVI. Reflective ..... 
 
 194 
 
 
 '^, 
 
 XVn. Aunt Maria's Household 
 
 204 
 
 
 
 XVin. Edith and Sofona .... 
 
 . 215 
 
 
 ■n. 
 
 XIX. An old Story .... 
 
 228 
 
 
 
 XX. Tidings from Hoivie 
 
 239 
 
 
 
 XXL In the Gay Season 
 
 246 
 
 
 ^.i 
 
 XXn. A Strawberry Party 
 
 258 
 
 
 
 XXni. Didactic ..... 
 
 287
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Ghampaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/warDwooforremini01leeh
 
 WARP AND WOOF, 
 
 I. 
 
 AVONMORE CHURCH BELLS. 
 
 This afternoon I was lying on my coucli by the 
 open window when the sweet peal of bells over 
 the water at Avonmore Church beo;an to ringf. 
 I covered my eyes and listened. 
 
 "So long ago, so long ago, so long, long ago ! " 
 they seemed to say ; " so long ago, so long ago, 
 so long, long ago ! " 
 
 They kept up the monotonous burden for full 
 half an hour, but they rang it in different keys. 
 At first in a plaintive minor, moui-nful, regretful ; 
 then they clashed it out wildly, seized with a fit 
 of recklessness ; then they whistled it down the 
 wind as something past praying for; then they 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 broke forth rejoicinsj that it was over and done 
 with; then they jangled it all out of tune and 
 died into silence with a broken moan. '^ So long 
 ago, so long, long ago, so long ago." 
 
 I was in an idle, fanciful mood when the bells 
 began to ring, and they chimed the echoes to it 
 in the far-off, silent lands of memory. I had 
 been turning over my old Thought-Book — faded 
 annal of hopes and 'sorrows which have been as 
 coffin-dust these many, many years. With sad 
 amazement I had recognized the antic figures of 
 my former self inditing these treacherous records 
 of futilit}^ Long lines of spectral faces, so hke 
 and yet unlike my own, had looked at me from 
 the yellow pages with strange filmy eyes. The 
 passions, fears, joys, doubts, chronicled with such 
 verve and distinctness in the passing, time had 
 quite rubbed out of my memory or left them only 
 as a shadowy smear. I had forgotten to care for 
 them any more ; they were the broken toys, the 
 hard lessons, the merry holidays, the solemn 
 chastisements of my youth, and I had done with 
 them ; when suddenly from the leaves of my old 
 Thought-Bookj they started up again into wan.
 
 AVOXMORE CHURCH BELLS. 3 
 
 white, wasted life and trooped across the sun- 
 shine, and filled the room. 
 
 I might have grown sorrowful amongst my 
 phantom company, as well as idle and fanciful, 
 but just as the bells ceased I heard the children's 
 voices in the garden, and looking up where the 
 shadows of the great elm-trees in the hedgerow 
 began to lengthen across the grass, I saw them 
 coming with their mother through the wicket-gate 
 from the Old Grove Fields. They tumbled in over 
 the low window sill, all eager to speak at once 
 and tell their adventures in the meadows where 
 they had been to watch the haymakers at work ; 
 while their mother stayed outside looking in upon 
 us like a lovely rose in a garland of leaves. The 
 sweet, velvety faces pressed round me, warm, 
 breathless, and dishevelled; the boys stood upon 
 the floor, but fat little Trot made a cushion of 
 herself upon my feet, and inunediately I was 
 strewn over with the spoils that filled their 
 dimpled hands, and in the merry prattle of their 
 innocent lips the solenm echo of the bells was 
 drowned. 
 
 I am but a poor invalid pinned day and night 
 
 1—2
 
 4 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 to my couch, and as I cannot go out into the 
 fields any more, the fields come to me in pretty 
 posies. These tiny, tender feet bring the seasons 
 into my quiet room with violets for spring, wild 
 roses for midsummer, golden ears of harvest for 
 autumn, and scarlet-berried holly for cold Christ- 
 mas. And in return I tell them stories without 
 end, illustrated by much pantomimic action: 
 they begged for one to-day, and as soon as it was 
 finished their mother carried them off lest they 
 should tire me over-much, and nurse Bradshaw 
 came in to gather up the litter those "blessed 
 bairns " always leave behind as token of their 
 visits. She then brought in my tea and a bit of 
 village gossip with it, and having communicated 
 that and shaken up my cushions, she admitted 
 Cosy, the cat, for his evening meal of "tea-cup 
 tea," and then left us to the enjoyment of each 
 other's society. 
 
 The air was so still that in the garden I could 
 not see a leaf stir; but as I fell athinking again 
 I had a strange illusion of sound. I heard the 
 Avonmore Church bells ringing high up in the 
 clouds with the same burden as before, but more
 
 AVONMORE CHURCH BELLS, 5 
 
 even and more solemn. "So lono- ao^o, so loner 
 ago, so long, long ago ! So long ago, so long ago, 
 so long, long ago ! " 
 
 I gave myself up to them : I let them carry me 
 over a plain of level years to the troublous times 
 when first we came to live at Redcross, to times 
 earlier than those; to the days of my father's 
 prosperity when we were all young, and bonnie, 
 bonnie Roseberry was our home. The joys and 
 sorrows of others as well as of myself rose from 
 their graves, and the loves and hates of some who 
 have ceased loving and hating in this world for 
 ever. TVhat the bells and the old Thouo-ht-Book 
 said to me I am going to relate to you, but more 
 of others than of myself. My own story is one 
 of those which can be told in less than half a dozen 
 pages — a story cut short in the first chapter with 
 " Why ? " for its finis. In this life it will not be 
 answered, but one day I shall know for what good 
 reason of God the hope of my youth was taken 
 away, and I was left to wither through long, 
 painful years into the state of sheer helplessness 
 in which I lie now.
 
 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 II. 
 
 FALLEN IN THE WOELD. 
 
 " Bread's promised and water's sure." 
 
 The above quotation from nurse Bradshaw's 
 proverbial philosophy occupies half a line in my 
 old Thought-Book under the date of a day ever 
 memorable in our family. It was the day when 
 my father's ruin was first intimated to us. 
 Whether our hearts were stayed from grieving 
 by that dry crumb of comfort, I cannot remember 
 now, but I conjecture not. 
 
 We were all of an age to feel the change 
 acutely. Connie, the youngest of us, was fifteen, 
 Ursula was nineteen, and the two boys were 
 seventeen and eighteen respectively. My father 
 had been twice married. I was his only child 
 by his first wife who died very young in bring- 
 ing me into the world: I was now nearly one- 
 and-twenty, and engaged to Philip Massey.
 
 FALLEN IN THE WOELD. 7 
 
 My engagement was of three years' standing, 
 for my father would not consent, as he always 
 declared, to any of his daughters marrying before 
 they were of age. I had been very happy and 
 contented during this interval of probation. In 
 Philip I saw all that my heart desired ; we were 
 truly attached to each other, and suited in age, 
 in tastes, in pursuits, and in temper. He was 
 the first friend who appeared at E,oseberry when 
 my father's ruin became public^ he sought me 
 at once, and in the midst of the suffering and 
 anxiety of that trouble, I had the precious con- 
 solation of his assurance that we could not be 
 divided by any adverse stroke of fortune. But 
 the severance which poverty was powerless to 
 produce came from the mighty hand of death. 
 Three days after I had seen him he was smitten 
 with fever ; in less than a fortnight the grave 
 had closed over him, and aU the sweet summer 
 of my life was past. 
 
 Of this period I find in the old Thought-Book 
 but a single entry : *^ Wherever I turn, wherever 
 I look, but one thought meets me — Philip is dead ; 
 I try to be busy with my hands, but they soon
 
 8 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 drop paralyzed, and I sit feeling in every nerve 
 that Philip is dead; I sit in the sunshine, cold 
 to my heart's core, for Philip is dead.''^ 
 
 The anguish of that great bereavement has 
 been long grieved down, and I can think of it 
 quite calmly now. There are pains harder, far 
 harder to bear than the death of what we love. 
 I can remember him without a shadow of re- 
 proach; he was always generous, noble, loving. 
 I shall never see his equal until I see him again 
 where there are no partings any more for ever. 
 
 This blow, falling in the midst of the wider 
 calamity, would have put me aside had I suffered 
 it; but I kept up my heart and my courage 
 constantly by saying, '^ It is the will of God ; " 
 and so, by slow degrees, resignation came. It 
 seemed a dreary out-look into life at first, but 
 the necessity of taking thought for others dis- 
 persed the darkest clouds. Nature had blessed 
 me with a cheerful spirit, and in the simple 
 interests of everyday life I still found sources 
 of happiness which made the world tolerable, 
 even when I regarded it as a place through 
 which my own path would lie always solitary.
 
 FALLEN IX THE V\'ORLD. 9 
 
 I have had many sunshiny days since then, and 
 have found contentment, ease, and enjoyment, 
 in quite unanticipated ways and places. '•' Old 
 maid," that name of dread to us when we are 
 young, has ceased to have any terrible signifi- 
 cance. I have friends whom I love, and who 
 love me, and the solitary path is very far fi'om 
 lonely. 
 
 Ursula had been introduced a year, and revel- 
 ling in all the pleasures that youth, health, spirits, 
 and money, could give her. She was fond of 
 company, of di-ess, of personal ease and luxury. 
 She was proud of Roseberry, proud of having 
 it said that the Fletchers had the finest house, 
 the handsomest equipage, and the best kept place 
 in the neighbourhood. She looked to receive a 
 good fortune and to marr}- well, though, as yet, 
 she had had no chance of an independent settle- 
 ment in life. In consequence, she bore our 
 reverses grievously. She railed against the specu- 
 lative mania of men iu business and imputed 
 blame to papa in the severest manner. She 
 deplored our loss of position and vehemently 
 declared that she could not do this or that, or
 
 10 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 bear the otlier which we might resign ourselves 
 to ; she was not brought up to stinting or poverty, 
 and she early announced her intention of going 
 out as governess into some nobleman's family, if 
 she did not find things as comfortable as she 
 was used to have them in the new home to which 
 we should be obliged to betake ourselves. 
 
 Connie kept her bright sweet face through all 
 the dark time, cheering every one of us with 
 her cheerfulness. She was young and unaccus- 
 tomed to the ways of the world, and perhaps 
 she appreciated less clearly than the rest of us 
 the effects of the change. 
 
 She had the joyous heart that is equal to any 
 fortune, and was the last creature in the house 
 to conceive sentimental distresses or to aggravate 
 a trial by always turning it the dark side upper- 
 most. But she was to have her poignant share 
 of the grief, too, by and bye, poor child. She 
 was my father's favourite and the darling of her 
 brothers ; and these brothers were soon to leave 
 us, to be separated from us by half the world, 
 to go and make them a new home in a new 
 country, and to say good-bye to England for ever.
 
 FALLEN IN THE WORLD. 11 
 
 They were just of the age when their way- 
 through life must be decided for good or for 
 evil. Anthony had been intended for the army, 
 Herbert for the bar; neither of them had ever 
 shown any inclination for commerce. They had 
 always enjoyed large allowances and had con- 
 tracted expensive habits; but now tliat all the 
 money had run out of their father's purse and 
 left it lean and empty, they could no longer 
 draw upon that generous source. They were 
 handsome, clever, spirited boys to whom hard- 
 ship was a word unknown ; but it met them now 
 face to face, and their fine prospects vanished in 
 a moment. 
 
 Just at this crisis there was a great talk of the 
 gold-countries ; rumour circulated florid stories 
 of fortunes won by the lucky delving of a spade 
 and turned hundreds of wild heads ; our two 
 dear ones amongst the number. They also would 
 emigrate, they also would go to Australia. Papa 
 was just in that state of mind when anything 
 that promised to release him from the constant 
 pressure of self-reproach was esteemed a bless- 
 ing. It annoyed hdm to see the boys hanging 
 
 y
 
 12 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 about the house, idle, unhinged, with nothing 
 certain or hopeful before them, so that when 
 their project came to be discussed, he received 
 it almost with favour. 
 
 Anthony possessed a volume of the Adventures 
 of an Emigrant, which he had probably read 
 before without any special interest, but now Her- 
 bert and he were constantly laying their heads 
 together over it and talking low, apart from the 
 rest of us. We had our suspicions, but we kept 
 them to ourselves, and they said never a word 
 of their designs until one evening, when they 
 were standing listlessly by the window after a 
 prolonged private discussion, papa querulously 
 exclaimed, " God help us ! what is to become of 
 those boys? They will be ruined if this indo- 
 lence gets a hold on them. Go out, take a walk, 
 do something, lads ; it worries me to death to 
 see you mooning about all day at a loose end ! " 
 
 tThis gave them an opening to speak. Anthony 
 came immediately, and standing on the hearth 
 before him, said, — 
 
 " Papa, Bertie and I have made up our minds 
 to emigrate." He looked away from his mother
 
 FALLEN IN THE WORLD. 13 
 
 as he spoke, and there was the white tremulous- 
 ness about his lips which betrayed a strongly 
 controlled excitement 
 
 For a moment or two there was dead silence, 
 and then Herbert added, — 
 
 " The world is not so far round as it used 
 to be : steamships, railways, and electric tele- 
 graphs have all but annihilated time and space." 
 
 His mother forced a plaintive smile, and papa 
 said regretfully, — 
 
 " Ah, he would have made a capital lawyer : 
 black is always white when he handles it." 
 
 Anthony then began to make it clear to us 
 that their best, and, in fact, their only way of 
 getting on in life was to emigrate, and papa was 
 not ready with any substantial arguments to 
 advance against it. It was perfectly time that 
 the professions to which they had looked were 
 not fit for necessitous men, and that to estabhsh 
 themselves here in any manner they must descend, 
 and to descend is an intolerable mortification to 
 the young and ardent. Herbert seconded all 
 that his brother said in a quiet, clinching tone 
 peculiar to himself, while their mother looked
 
 14 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 at them with wistful, beseeching tenderness, in- 
 credulous yet that they would really leave her. 
 And as they talked, insensibly their voices and 
 countenances quickened with hope; how should 
 they know the anxious fears, the pitiful yearnings 
 of her heart towards them? When the parent 
 nest breaks up and the young birds' wings are 
 grown, it is a law of nature that they should 
 spread them in the blue heaven and sail away, 
 far away, out of sight, whence all the straining 
 of fond eyes and all the longing of loving hearts 
 can bring them back no more !
 
 15 
 
 III. 
 
 OUR FAMILY. 
 
 I CAXN'OT say that ruin came without warning. 
 For more than a year my father had ceased to 
 spend lavish sums in pictures and useless orna- 
 ments for the house, and for many months he 
 had worn an anxious face. He was in the habit 
 of telling mamma everything, and she looked 
 anxious too. Once I heard her say : — " Shall we 
 put down the carriage ? " but he replied : ^^ That 
 would be a mere drop in an ocean. No, let 
 things go on as usual; it is just possible that 
 we may tide over the danger, if Mortimer and 
 the rest stand." 
 
 But his slender hope was not to be fulfilled. 
 For seven-and-twenty years of his commercial 
 existence his prosperity l^had known no check ; 
 in the twenty-eighth adverse public events and
 
 16 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 rash speculations shook the old house, and in 
 the twenty-ninth it came down with a crash. 
 The firm of Fletcher, Dashwood & Co., founded 
 in his grandfather's time, went into the Gazette 
 with several others, as long established and once 
 as highly reputed. It was a terrible shock to all 
 of us, but to my father it was almost death. He 
 never held his head up afterwards, so to speak, 
 and though he survived the loss of fortune, 
 position, and influence into extreme old age, he 
 never grew reconciled to it. 
 
 Roseberry had belonged to the Yillers' family, 
 and was a handsome residence when my father 
 bought it, but he was then in the flood-tide of 
 his prosperity, and he expended a fortune in 
 additions and improvements. Everytliing indoors 
 and out that modern invention produced or 
 modern taste perfected came to Roseberry. 
 There was incessant change, and redecoration. 
 I could never feel that the rooms grew familiar ; 
 I think they were too spacious, too fine, and 
 too fresh for comfort. Mamma's boudoir upstans 
 w^as the pleasantest place in the house. Annual 
 innovation did not intrude there ; the carpet
 
 OUR F^VZillLY. 17 
 
 ceased to glow, the tints of the curtains faded, 
 the gilt frames of our pictures toned down, and 
 when mj father would have replaced them with 
 something new, she gently restrained him, saving 
 she liked it better as it was. 
 
 But out of doors in the beautiful gardens we 
 had our haunts undisturbed for years, and those 
 we children dearly loved. When it was first 
 said, " We must leave Roseberry — Roseberry 
 must be sold," Connie and I betook ourselves 
 to a shady roost amongst certain ancient yew- 
 trees that grew in a sweet glen, and cried as 
 if our hearts would break. It was our pet play- 
 place when we were httle things, and always our 
 favourite holiday resort with favourite books. 
 
 We had enjoyed a happy childhood and youth, 
 all of us, for which, thank God ; it is a blessing 
 that has followed us all the days of our lives. 
 Whatever we may have been called on to endure 
 since, we have not suffered from the far-reach- 
 ing echoes of infantine misery. Oh, I have such 
 a pity for sad little children — crushed, baited, 
 kept out of the sunshine, until their souls are 
 warped into distorted caricatures that no painful 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
 7
 
 18 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 years of after striving can ever turn back to 
 the semblance of God. They remind me of those 
 plants which Humboldt saw in the Cavern of 
 Guachero, growing in darkness, pallid, irrecog- 
 nizable, with the hoarse cries of nocturnal birds 
 and the rush of subterraneous waters filling the 
 air with a tumult of hell — phantom plants, demon 
 plants, without a trace of likeness to any seed 
 which springs up in the light of Heaven ! 
 
 Mamma was as much a mother to me as' to 
 her own children ; there was no distinction 
 amongst us, unless it were in my favour, who 
 had all the privileges of eldership. She was a 
 pious, cultivated, gentle, affectionate woman, 
 thoroughly unselfish and full of tender consider- 
 ation for those about her, but withal firm, just 
 and clear-sighted in her guidance of her family ; 
 never swayed by partialities, never temporizing 
 or making circuit by expediencies, but laying 
 down to us the same direct principles of right 
 and duty by which she governed herself. 
 
 Our nurse was a north-country woman from 
 the same place as my mother. She took me into 
 her arms when her young mistress died, she
 
 OUR TAillLY. 19 
 
 saw my father bring home her successor ; upon 
 her knees mj brothers and sisters were weaned ; 
 she lived with us tln'ough the time of our pros- 
 perity, and remained faithful in our adversity; 
 she came with us to our new home at Redcross, 
 and she is with me still — trusty friend and 
 servant, the last left to me of all the once merry 
 household at Roseberry. We were equally for- 
 tunate in our governess, Miss Heywood, who 
 came to take charge of my education when I 
 was eight years old, and stayed with us mitil 
 our home was broken up. Perhaps her system 
 of training might be considered narrow in these 
 days of new theories and universal knowledge, 
 but we were indebted to her for much that 
 ameliorated our descent into poverty. She was 
 greatly given to the cultivation of the minor 
 morals. She endeavoured to form in us orderly 
 habits of mind, a taste for good reading, accuracy 
 of observation, clearness of thought, and stead- 
 fastness of pui-pose. She was herself a right- 
 headed, well-balanced woman with a keen sense 
 of justice and a shrewd penetration. Her ethical 
 problems were not always such as are brought 
 
 2—3
 
 20 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 before children, but we have worked some of 
 them out in our own experience since and have 
 found them correctly stated. I remember on one 
 occasion, when we had been reading a history 
 of strange family vicissitudes, she said, — 
 
 "I have seen striking reverses in my time, 
 and perhaps it may be the fate of some of you 
 to suffer from similar changes. Well, children, 
 and if it be" (and here she spread her hands 
 abroad, as if making light of it), — " you must 
 look upon it, though it come by the carelessness, 
 wickedness, or unavoidable misfortunes of others, 
 as a dispensation of Providence, — and dispen- 
 sations of Providence are not meant to break 
 our hearts, • severely as they may try them. I 
 would have you learn to look life honestly in 
 the face, not making much ado about nothings, 
 but the best of it under all circumstances. And 
 to that end I want each of you to cultivate by 
 practice and reflection the special gifts of mind 
 that you possess ; so that, in any sudden shock 
 of calamity you may be capable of turning your 
 hands to this or that as a means of self-support. 
 You may be just as much gentlewomen giving
 
 OUR FAMILY. 21 
 
 music-lessons, mending your husband's clothes, 
 and earning your children's bread as you could 
 be happy mistresses in ^yealthy homes. It is 
 an established principle of mine that work and 
 poverty, of themselves, never degraded any 
 educated woman yet." 
 
 Ursula was rather impatient of these lectures^ 
 as she called them, but Connie and I listened 
 with negligent indifference. It seemed so unlikely 
 that we should ever come to want, so unlikely 
 that we should ever need to work. The details 
 of penury were more unreal to us than the 
 wildest romance. I once ventured to say so, 
 and Miss Heywood, looking me frankly in the 
 face, rephed, — 
 
 "Ask your father, Doris, and he will tell 
 you that for every guinea he can count, my 
 father could once have counted ten. Yet I am 
 thankful now for a home under his roof, for 
 the office of teaching you, and for the salary I 
 earn which helps to maintain my mother." We 
 were all shocked and startled, and Connie, with 
 her sweet affectionateness, threw her arms round 
 her neck, bidding her never mind. **' I don't
 
 22 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 mind now, my clear, one gets used to skinning 
 by and by," was her answer. 
 
 Afterwards when we were alone, I said, how 
 sorry I was that I should have awakened sorrow- 
 ful remembrances, and she told me a little more 
 of herself. 
 
 " I was about your own age, Doris, and that 
 does not seem so very long ago," she said in 
 her quiet way ; " but I lost more than the mere 
 power to be lazy and luxurious. You knoAv for 
 yourself what it is to centre life and hope in 
 another dearer than all friends or all kindred 
 besides. I once looked to be happy wife and 
 happy mother as certainly as yoa ; but when 
 my father was ruined, Richard Arlington's family 
 set themselves against me, and his father said, 
 that though he would not absolutely forbid his 
 son to fulfil his engagement, he should be very 
 thankful were it broken off. This was brought 
 to my ears by a mutual acquaintance, and I 
 offered to release liim — perhaps I ought not to 
 blame him too severely that he took me at my 
 word." I asked her what became of him after- 
 wards. ^^Oh," she said, "he married a very
 
 OUE FA^nLY. 23 
 
 lovely and loveable woman, and I believe their 
 union was perfectly suitable and happy." After 
 a pause, she asked me if I recollected the last 
 time we were at Redcross, noticing a handsome 
 boy of about nme years old, with very fine blue 
 eyes, who was always building sand fortifications 
 about the North Rocks. I said I recollected him 
 very well. " That was one of his children," 
 replied she. 
 
 I remember even yet looking at her and trying 
 to repaint her face with the tints of youth, but 
 all in vain. I could see only sharpened features, 
 sallow skin, and pepper and salt-coloured hair — I 
 suppose she must have been three or four and thirty 
 at this date, and when I was a girl, an unmarried 
 woman of that age appeared to me as old as 
 the hills. It seemed as strange that she should 
 ever have had a love-stor}^ as it had seemed 
 before that her father should once have been 
 richer than ours. 
 
 Sprightly young folks are apt to be rather 
 hard and incredulous touching the sentimental 
 episodes in the lives of their withered elders — 
 I have had a little experience of it myself, since
 
 24 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 I lost my bloom and my hair began to turn 
 grey — but now and then, a sharp pang of their 
 own softens them, as it did me, into a very 
 early and intimate sympathy with those who 
 have loved and lost when hope was at its 
 brightest and a disappointment of the heart was 
 the most tragical event in the ominous list of 
 mortal miseries. I remember when Philip Massey 
 died how good Miss Heywood was to me, and 
 how I had more consolation in her silent kindness 
 than I had in everybody else's well-meant but 
 empty exhortations. She knew what I suffered, 
 and she knew also that prayer and patience would 
 soothe the asperity of my pain and bring me 
 safely through that dark pass from which I 
 beheld my dear love departing on his solemn 
 journey into the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 From that time I began to know what anguish 
 and what comfort, what sorrow and what forti- 
 tude, what persecution and what forbearance, 
 what vain desires and long disappointments enter 
 into most men's and women's lives. But to fore- 
 see the thorns that will pierce ourselves would 
 be more than we could bear — mercifully are they
 
 OUR FA^nLY. 25 
 
 hidden under flowers of hope or quiet assurance — 
 I did not foresee the great calamity that was to 
 make my existence now one tedious lengthening 
 of physical pain. I thought I had endiu:ed my 
 sharpest trial and that henceforward if my way 
 was to be solitary it would also be safe. I fancied 
 I had a claim on the tenderness of Him who had 
 bereaved me of so much already ; but when I 
 was healed of that wound. He laid upon me 
 another cross which I must carry heavily until 
 I have leave to rest under it in my grave. I do 
 not seek to know why'? It is a problem past 
 answering ; but I try to say from my soul, " God's 
 will be done ! " and that simplifies all my diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 We were not driven away from the Roseberry 
 without time" given us to seek a new home, but 
 the chief part of the household was discharged, 
 horses and carriages were sold, and the rooms 
 were stript of their costliest adornments. The 
 house itself was no longer our own ; but in 
 arranmncj the sale it had been conditioned that 
 we should not be required to leave it until Sep- 
 tember, which gave us an interval of three
 
 26 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 months to look about us and settle our future 
 plans. 
 
 My father had been the very soul of hospitality ; 
 he loved to entertain his friends, and Roseberry 
 was a j)lace to which his friends loved to come. 
 We lost sight of most of them at this period of 
 our disasters, but that might be less their fault 
 than we were then disposed to admit. Betwixt 
 Fortune and Misfortune there is certainly a great 
 gulf fixed, and Ill-luck must make a very long 
 arm indeed to retain his grasp of those with whom 
 he once walked hand in hand in the sunshine of 
 prosperity. But whenever it has been our chance 
 since to come in contact with those who knew us 
 in old times, I am sure they have always spoken 
 of my father with a most generous remembrance, 
 though he would never believe it. 
 
 " No, no," he would say, wjth feeble bitterness, 
 " when the world went wrong with me, all my 
 friends went the way of the world." 
 
 The first tiling for us to consider now was 
 where we must live and what we should have 
 to live upon. My father's private debts were 
 paid to the uttermost farthing, but his commercial
 
 OUK FAMILY. 27 
 
 liabilities were, I have understood, enormous. 
 There was some blame, though no dishonour, 
 attached to his name, and he met with the respect- 
 ful usage of a man who has done his best to avert 
 the consequences of a lost battle. He might even 
 have begun the world again, but he was too old ; 
 he was out of heart, thoroughly beaten, discouraged 
 and broken down. 
 
 Though not hardly dealt with by his creditors, 
 out of the wrecks of Roseberry splendour only 
 the merest pittance was reserved; so small a 
 pittance, indeed, that a cousin of mamma's. Sir 
 Archibald Grant, offered to increase it by a pen- 
 sion of a hmidred a year during her own and her 
 husband's lifetime. I possessed five thousand 
 pounds which came to me from my own mother, 
 and, with the interest of that put into the common 
 stock, we agreed that we might live in some cheap, 
 quiet neighbourhood without any of us girls being 
 obliged to throw ourselves upon the world. This 
 was what I would have strained every nerve to 
 prevent. At home with papa, mamma and the 
 rest of them, I knew I could put my hand to 
 any needful work, but not amongst strangers, as
 
 28 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 a dependant earning a wage — that I shrank from 
 with absolute avoidance, though I saw that Ursula 
 contemplated the possibility without any disfavour 
 whatever. 
 
 I had for myself a third alternative which I 
 was almost on the point of forgetting. My uncle 
 Sibthorpe volunteered to receive me and constitute 
 me housekeeper over his bachelor establishment 
 in Russell Square, but I had no inclination for 
 the dignity. He was a sarcastic, unsociable man, 
 getting into years, very wealthy and very near ; 
 he had a few acquaintance of the same type as 
 himself, who came to his dinners, talked of the 
 age and cost of their wines, and measured every- 
 body and everything by the money standard. 
 It was candidly represented to me what sub- 
 stantial advantages I was throwing away by declin- 
 ing my uncle's proposal, but I could not look upon 
 it in that light at all. The slow tedium of such 
 a life as I must have led with him would have 
 eaten out my heart. He was offended, and 
 betrayed it by never again giving me my annual 
 invitation to his house; also he wrote me word 
 that some day I should learn what I had lost by
 
 OUIl FAMILY. 29 
 
 my foolishness. Perhaps I lost a great fortune — 
 I neither know nor cai-e. He left his money to 
 found an hospital for the incurable sick, which 
 has been a wider and more permanent blessing by 
 far than if he had bequeathed it to enrich a single 
 woman like myself.
 
 30 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 IV. 
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 
 
 When the sclieme of our going to live at Redcross 
 was first mooted, Ursula threw cold water upon 
 it and snubbed it as she would have snubbed any 
 plan that did not originate with herself. She 
 said without circumlocution that she hated the 
 country. Connie asked her why. 
 
 " Why V* retorted she pettishly; " why enough, 
 I'm sure. Living in the country means having 
 a neighbour with whom you are not on terms; 
 a house as silent as a church on week-days; a 
 caller once a month, a tea-fight once a quarter, 
 and deadly liveliness all the year round. It means 
 taking a walk of three miles through muddy lanes 
 where you don't meet a soul, it means contracting 
 narrow views of life; it means every stupid 
 amusement and innocent dulness under the sun. 
 I once lived in the country for six months with
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 31 
 
 old aunt Maria, and I have detested it ever 
 since." 
 
 Miss He}n;\'ood's uncompromising good sense 
 soon took the wind out of the sails of Ursula's 
 sweeping definition. 
 
 " That is what living in the country might 
 mean to a woman with an empty head and a 
 hollow heart," said she ; " to a woman cursed 
 with a capricious temper, a craving for excite- 
 ment, and an intense selfishness. It would never 
 present such a dreary level of monotony to any 
 one in a healthy state of mind." 
 
 Ursula put on her stubborn face and answered 
 again, — 
 
 " I would as lief go into a convent as into the 
 country to be mewed up in complete solitude. 
 There is so much pride in those little provincial 
 communities that the fact of papa having been in 
 trade and, moreover, unfortunate in trade, will 
 be quite enough, I expect, to shut us out of the 
 best set ; and I am quite determined not to put 
 up with the second best I would rather have 
 no society at all than be condenmed to that of 
 under-bred and half-educated people. If we do
 
 32 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 go to live in the country you will see that it will 
 end in my taking a situation." 
 
 Mamma looked grieved but she said nothing, 
 and Miss Heywood calmly replied, — 
 
 " The discipline would probably do you good, 
 Ursula ; the idea is worth considering. But with 
 regard to living in tlie country, you speak igno- 
 rantly. Any young woman who distinguished 
 herself chiefly by her asperity of temper would 
 be avoided both in provincial society and else- 
 where ; but a pleasant person who meets kindness 
 wath kindness, and courtesy with courtesy, is 
 acceptable in most companies." 
 
 Ursula looked piqued and raised her brows in 
 feigned contempt; and poor mamma wdio was 
 watching her and knew that there was no peace 
 for anybody unless she were pleased, ventured 
 to remark that perhaps Redcross was rather out 
 of the way, upon which Ursula, with her usual 
 perversity, immediately veered round and ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " Out of the way ! So much the better ! 
 What people in our circumstances want is to get 
 out of the way!"
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 33 
 
 "Perhaps, my dear, it would be advisable for 
 you to remain silent until you have heard what 
 those have to advance who know their own minds,' 
 said !Miss Heywood. " It appears that you are 
 in one of your fits of unreason." 
 
 Connie now spoke up. 
 
 " Redcross is a place that would amuse papa ; 
 he could walk in and out to ScarclifFe for his 
 newspaper every day, and as mamma likes quiet 
 and a garden , it would suit her. When we have 
 been down there for a month in the suDimer, we 
 have always said it was a paradise of a place. 
 Nurse is quite fond of it, and I think we might 
 be almost luxuriously poor in such a pretty spot." 
 
 Ursula intimated her contempt for Connie's 
 paradoxical use of terms, and wished to know 
 whether I had any views to state. 
 
 I said, " Yes : I thought, for my part, that we 
 should find more of the amusements and occupa- 
 tions of our age in such a place as Redcross than 
 we should in a dozy cathedral to^vn, a bustling 
 manufacturing neighbourhood, or a thoroughly 
 rural district." 
 
 Mamma agreed with me. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 " I know no preferable locality," said she ; ^^ I 
 was always fond of it myself, and our visits there 
 were a treat to you all as children. Suppose I 
 speak to papa about it at once ? " 
 
 ^^ Well ! " cried Ursula, the passionate tears 
 rushing into her eyes ; " if I am not to be con- 
 sulted, it is of no consequence. I shall not stay 
 at home long to be a burden anywhere, and Red- 
 cross will do as well as another place to come to 
 in my holidays." 
 
 " You have been consulted, Ursula," interposed 
 Miss Hey wood ; " and you have expressed your 
 sentiments with your usual emphasis and lack of 
 consideration for others; but as we think them 
 erroneous, we do not come into them — that is all." 
 
 Ursula was silenced for the present, but mamma 
 was perplexed by her opposition, and might even 
 have been influenced by it to the setting aside of 
 the Redcross plan altogether, had we not com- 
 bined to urge that it was only one of her common 
 gusts of perversity, which, now that it had had 
 vent, would probably soon blow over. But the 
 fact was that Ursula really desired impracticable 
 things. She wanted to stay near London and
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 35 
 
 to go on enjoying all the gaieties and pleasures 
 of the last year, exactly as if notHng had hap- 
 pened; and mamma and the rest of us shi-ank 
 from the ordeal of genteel penury, as we had 
 witnessed it there, more than we could express. 
 Ursula could not understand it ; her lessons of 
 sacrifice and self-denial were yet to learn, and 
 she showed but very little aptitude for those hard 
 lines ; she fancied we were all acting in selfish 
 opposition to her, and indulging our own tastes 
 without consideration for hers. When she was 
 in one of these moods, oui' best way was to turn 
 a deaf ear to all she said, for argument and oppo- 
 sition only served to make her the more invincibly 
 obstinate and persistent in her opinions, and to 
 draw down upon ourselves a storm of pathetic or 
 vehement accusations. 
 
 When my father was consulted on the subject, 
 as we had anticipated, he readily acquiesced ; he 
 was in the temper to acquiesce in whatever was 
 proposed to him. 
 
 '•' Do what you like," he said with a jaded air : 
 "one place is much the same to me as another 
 now : don't let me be troubled, that is all." 
 
 3—2
 
 36 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 He, however, asked afterwards how our going 
 to live at Redcross would affect the boys. Mamma 
 told him that she was afraid it would not affect 
 them at all — they would not go with us. Town 
 or country, it was a matter of indifference to 
 them. They were very hot and eager about 
 their emigration scheme, and in collecting infor- 
 mation and devising their plans they had already 
 found abundant consolation for all foregone dis- 
 asters. 
 
 Nurse Bradshaw shook her head when -she was 
 told of their projects, and said to Anthony that 
 if she were in his shoes she would still prefer 
 a hovel in England to a palace in a strange 
 country. 
 
 "There is no talk of palaces either here or 
 there, nursey," replied he; "we shall have to 
 work hard, and fare hard, and live hard." 
 
 " And little enough you're fit for that. Master 
 Anty," said she, regarding his limmer young 
 frame with kindly regret. 
 
 "Nonsense, woman; there's the making of a 
 man in me as strong as my grandfather. How 
 long is it since you measured me against the wall
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 37 
 
 to see how much I had grown in the year? 
 Measure me now, and I believe you will see that 
 I am full as tall as he was in his best days." 
 
 " Off with your shoes then, and stand in your 
 stocking feet," cried the dear old soul, and having 
 placed him with his back against the wall, she 
 mounted a chair, laid a rule across liis crown, 
 marked the paper with her pencil, and stept down. 
 " Six foot one and a half, that's what you are ; 
 your grandfather was six foot two and over ; he 
 shrank a bit as he got into years, but that was 
 neither here nor there." 
 
 "Ah, but I've not done growing; and then 
 see my arms, nursey, they're famous for muscle ! 
 rowing and cricketing have brought that out. 
 They'll do as good a day's work at gold digging 
 as any navvy's of them all." 
 
 " Get away with you. Master Anty, they're as 
 white as a lady's ! " cried she, putting the sturdy 
 young limb aside ; but suddenly remembering 
 whither all this talk tended, she looked in his 
 face with her own puckered up lamentably and 
 asked, " But are you in real, right earnest about 
 going into these foreign parts ? "
 
 38 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 "Yes, nursey," replied he, sobered by her 
 solemnity. 
 
 " And Master Bertie, is he for going too ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And your mother's to lose both of you? It's 
 little comfort some mothers get for the sorrow of 
 bringing bairns into the world and rearing them 
 up to men. Well-a-day ! what must be must, 
 we're only dust ; if we can't get crumb we must 
 eat crust." 
 
 ^^ That's true, nursey, but there's no need to 
 pick out the hardest to break our teeth upon." 
 
 "You were always for making the best of 
 things, but I doubt it's a bad bargain you're 
 choosing for yourself now. You'll find blows 
 thicker than butter in them gold countries, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " Maybe so. But Bertie and I can hit out as 
 straight and strong as most fellows of our inches." 
 
 " I'm not afraid for Master Bertie ; he was 
 always a shifty little chap, even here in the 
 nursery. He'll fall on his feet let him go where 
 he will, and wherever there's a cow he'll sup 
 cream ; but there was always a soft bit in your
 
 SHADOWS BEFORE. 39 
 
 heart. Master Antj, and I doubt but it'll ache 
 when you've gotten so far away from your mother 
 and the rest of us." 
 
 " If I had been a soldier you would have lost 
 me too, nursey." 
 
 " But main proud of you should we have been 
 in your scarlet coat and gold lace, with your 
 sword in your hand — blows with that if you like, 
 and as hea^y as you please, on the Frenchmen's 
 sconces — can't be too heavy if they're the raskills 
 they vv^ere in your grandfather's time, when he 
 was a captain of volunteers." 
 
 " Perhaps the Frenchmen would have got a rap 
 at my sconce, and then you might have hung 
 up my sword on the wall, and have just said, 
 ' Good-bye to Anthony.' " 
 
 " Ay, ay, maybe it's all right. God knows best ; 
 but I'd rather have seen you taking your chance 
 in the hottest of the battle, with Him for yom- 
 buckler, than digging and delving in the earth 
 for gold. I had tw^o cousins of my own — the 
 eldest, he went to the Spanish Americas, and 
 I've heard no tell of him from that day to this; 
 but Alick, that was all through the Penins'lar
 
 40 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 war and was killed at Waterloo, his mother's 
 got his medals in her chest of drawers at this 
 minute. I've a very poor opinion of money, and 
 always had. Them's hardest at heart that's most 
 set on it. Doesn't the very Bible itself say the 
 love of it is the root of all evil ? " 
 
 Herbert, who had come quietly in with the 
 emigration book in his hand in search of his 
 brother, undertook to answer nurse this time. 
 "But money's a bridge that carries folks over 
 many irksome necessities," said he slnrewdly ; " and 
 if w^e had not broken it down under us, we should 
 not be wanting to grope our way through a 
 gully now to find more of it." 
 
 " I can't tackle you. Master Bertie ; you've such 
 a tongue for twisting and turning things about, 
 like that saint I've heard tell of that could fairly 
 set the stones and trees adancing with his music 
 pipes." 
 
 "That was St. Orpheus, nursey, who turned 
 saint when he lost Eurydice," said Herbert, 
 and leaving the dear old thing mystified with 
 this novel scrap of church history, he and 
 Anthony went off, arm in arm, to discuss privately
 
 SHADOWS BEFOEE. 41 
 
 some fresli phase in their emigration scheme ; 
 while Connie, nurse and I remained beliind dis- 
 consolate, to talk it over amongst ourselves and 
 to suggest a thousand vain expedients by which, 
 perhaps, they might be brought to abandon it.
 
 42 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 It was a very solemn moment when my father 
 gave his formal consent to his sons' departure. 
 
 " It is hardj boys, /iarcZ," said he with deplor- 
 able pathos, "but the world has been too hard 
 for me from first to last, and I have no power 
 to advise you. You will not have such a fair 
 start as your father, but maybe you will have 
 better luck." 
 
 Mamma sat quiet and silent a long while, holding 
 Anthony by the hand, until papa began to run 
 over old stories of their clever and mischievous 
 childhood and to recount his own disappointed 
 hopes and expectations for them. This was more 
 than she could bear, her mouth quivered with 
 suppressed pain, and saying almost inaudibly, " My 
 dears, I don't want to dishearten you," she left the
 
 FAEEWELL. 43 
 
 room and went away to be by herself, and to 
 seek fortitude, resignation, and comfort where alone 
 they are to be found. 
 
 After this evening, arrangements and prepara- 
 tions went on rapidly. A few weeks passed like 
 so many days, and the night before they were 
 to sail arrived. How strange it seemed, how 
 constrained and how silent ! We all sat together, 
 but we talked very little, and even of that httle 
 I remember nothing but Anthony's whisper to 
 Connie when they parted for the night. 
 
 " Don't cry, my darling, when anything happens 
 to papa and mamma you must come out to ns." 
 
 In this wide separation these young ones learnt 
 to affront and contemplate the issues of life and 
 death, and to plan and prepare for them as we 
 must all do later in yeai's when amongst our 
 household possessions we count many graves, 
 and death has been in amongst us again and 
 again, and turned half the empty chairs from 
 the hearth to the wall. 
 
 The next morning rose with clouds and drizzling 
 rain, and we rose with it, our hearts as heavy 
 as the clouds. If only the sun would have shone.
 
 44 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 it would have done a little to cheer us, but it 
 could not penetrate the blackness, and by the 
 time we had got breakfast over, the drizzle had 
 increased to a sharp rattling storm. The ship 
 in which the boys were to make their voyage 
 was lying in the river off Gravesend, and it 
 had been proposed that we should all go down 
 to see them on board, but, at the last, mamma 
 was prevailed on to stay at home with Ursula, 
 and only papa, Connie, and I accompanied them. 
 
 We went from Blackwall in a river steamer 
 with several other parties of emigrants and their 
 friends, bound for the same destination as our- 
 selves. The quietness of all these people was 
 wonderful ; perhaps, like mine, their throats ached 
 and swelled with suppressed crying, but those 
 who wept, wept silently, holding the hands of 
 the companions from whom they were parting, 
 perhaps for ever, in close, tender grasp. But 
 I think I was touched with deepest pity for a 
 man who marched solitary to and fro the deck, 
 with his hands in his jDOckets and a cigar between 
 his lips ; for he had nobody to say good-bye to 
 and nobody to be sorry for his going.
 
 FAEEWELL. 45 
 
 The di'enching rain drove us below^ but as 
 soon as we came in sight of the ship every one 
 rushed up the cabin stairs to look at her. TVe 
 went on board and saw the boys' berths, and 
 noted every little circumstance that would be 
 pleasant to tell mamma when we got back home 
 again ; and, at last, there was a call of all strangers 
 off, and the parting passed, and with a great 
 cheer and the boys' faces looking at us through a 
 blinding mist, we steamed back to London. 
 
 It was almost dai'k when we reached home, 
 and mamma had been dreadfully anxious for our 
 return, but she was cheered by our account of 
 what we had seen and of how the boys had 
 started in good spirits ; and then we all conspired 
 to say, like Bertie, that the world was not so 
 very far round after all, and that in a few years' 
 time they would be coming back again to see us. 
 
 " They're gone, poor fellows," said Ursula : " and 
 I suppose it will be quick march v.ith the rest 
 of us very soon." 
 
 And, indeed, we all began to feel that it was 
 now vain any longer to delay our own removal. 
 A house a2;ent at Redcross was therefore written
 
 46 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 to, and terms were made for our having a four 
 years' lease of a cottage there at a very moderate 
 rent. It had always before been let furnished, 
 but the owner agreed to remove his goods and 
 put it into thorough repair on the chance of our 
 becoming permanent tenants. Early in September, 
 therefore. Miss Heywood quitted us for a new 
 situation, and we took a last sorrowful leave of 
 beautiful Roseberry.
 
 47 
 
 VI. 
 
 A XEW ho:me. 
 
 When we first came to live at Redcross it 
 was a bowery little spot, nearly a mile and a 
 half from the rising town of Scarcliffe, but since 
 that date, the latter place has increased so much 
 by means of stucco terraces and marine villas 
 that we are almost incorporated into its gayest 
 subm'b. 
 
 Our new home was, as nurse Bradshaw wofully 
 expressed it, " a sad come down from Rosebeny," 
 but it was nevertheless a place to which a family 
 that had seen better days might retire without 
 any insufferable jar on its sensibilities. It was 
 a little way beyond and above the village, and 
 presented only a high dead wall towards the road 
 with a door opening into the sunny south-sloping 
 garden, which was bounded on the farther side
 
 48 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 by a holly hedge and thick screen of shrubs 
 and trees, and separated by a sunk fence from 
 certain beautiful undulating meadows that went 
 by the name of the Old Grove Fields. A rustic 
 bridge and wicket gate led from the shady walk 
 under the holly hedge to a footpath across these 
 meadows, which was our shortest and pleasantest 
 way to church. The house was Grove Cottage. 
 It was a perfectly old-fashioned, unpretentious 
 place, built of stone and thatched, but the walls 
 were almost invisible behind the diamond trellis- 
 vv^ork, thickly matted with roses, clematis, jessa- 
 mine, honeysuckle, and the graceful falUng clus- 
 ters of crimson leaves of the Virginian creeper 
 which quite hid one gable end of the roof. A 
 wide porch with two seats under it sheltered 
 the doorway, and on either side of the tile-paved 
 entrance opened the parlours, each with a broad 
 stone-mullioned window. They were rather low, 
 but they were so sunny that the encroachment 
 of the creepers outside upon the glass was an 
 advantage rather than otherwise; and the light 
 as it passed through the chequering branches 
 had quite a softened and pictorial effect. The
 
 A NEW HOME. 49 
 
 offices were at the back and upstairs there were 
 five sufficiently commodious bedrooms. 
 
 Nurse Bradshaw went down a fortnight before 
 us, and with the help of the village carpenter 
 and of a strong rough and ready country servant, 
 had fitted the remnants of Roseberry luxuiy so 
 advantageously to the several rooms, that when 
 we arrived my first impression was one of entire 
 admiration and delight. The drawing-room was 
 extremely pretty, and the garden, looking out 
 from its low windows, was a perfect nest of flowers 
 and luxuriance. Mamma's bedroom was over it, 
 and possessed all her dainty personal indis- 
 pensables and the pictures that had decorated 
 her walls at home. Ursula's room was the second 
 best over the other pai^lour, and Connie and I 
 agreed to share one at the back of the house, 
 where we had nothing particularly agreeable but 
 a view of the downs. 
 
 Nurse apologized for having given Ursula the 
 preference both in choice of rooms and selection 
 of furniture ; indeed, we were put off with mis- 
 matched articles and odds and ends of everything, 
 like nurse herself; for Connie had bidden her not 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 care about lier and I had promised not to com- 
 plain ; a piece of forbearance which we had ceased 
 to expect from Ursula. She had worn her martyr 
 face all the way from town and was the only 
 one amongst us who had not commended the 
 results of nurse's labours at first sight ; she entered 
 the cottage in silence and permitted herself to 
 be shown to her room as mute as if her lips 
 were padlocked. She was in one of her blackest 
 and most perverse moods, and hardly had nurse 
 left Connie and myself to go and look after mamma, 
 than she entered our room with an air of utter 
 exhaustion, and looking round disconsolately, she 
 exclaimed, while the sullen tears swelled in her 
 eyes, " What a mean, sordid, poverty-stricken 
 little place ! I never dreamed it would be as bad 
 as this." 
 
 Connie was dismayed ; we had just been saying 
 to each other that what we had lost in grandeur 
 we had gained in pictorial effect, and that the 
 prospect from our wide-open lattice window was 
 worth anything. 
 
 "I am sure the house is damp and the tliatch 
 full of vermin," Ursula went on, in an exalted
 
 A NEW HOME. 51 
 
 voice ; ^^ when the walls are so overgrown, there 
 are all sorts of creeping things in the rooms — 
 I saw an earwig in my room just now and I 
 hate earwigs ! I know I shall never be able to 
 settle. I had better write to iSIiss Heywood and 
 ask her to find me a situation at once/' and then 
 she marched ofi^, shutting the door noisily, having 
 effected nothing but the very -undesirable result 
 of lowering our feelings of satisfaction. 
 
 I believe it was Epictetus who summed up 
 the philosophy of hfe in the brief phrase, " Bear 
 and forbear," and we seemed likely to have oppor- 
 tunities enough for its exercise ; but we had made 
 up our minds not to give way to repining thoughts, 
 and to stave off dull melancholy which Ursula 
 had left behind, we went out into the garden 
 and inspected its beauties and -usefulness until 
 nurse Bradshaw called us in to tea; when we 
 carried to papa a crimson rose from a standard 
 tree as fine, if not finer, than anything we had 
 ever grown at Roseberry. He was immensely 
 pleased with it; it kept him talking and amused 
 throughout the meal, and after tea, he and mamma 
 turned out and loitered about the walks until 
 
 4—2
 
 52 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 dusk, planning improvements and alterations, and 
 as pleased and busy as children with a new toy. 
 
 It was necessary for various reasons that our 
 family should consist of as few members as 
 possible, and when we were settled, nurse 
 Bradshaw herself offered to dispense with her 
 rough and ready assistant. She said she could 
 manage very well alone if the young ladies 
 would take the books and ornaments under their 
 own care; but when it came to be proved, she 
 made the mortifying discovery that she had 
 over-estimated the capabilities of one pair of 
 hands, and was thankful for regular assistance 
 from Connie and myself in her morning tasks. 
 We soon became expert bed-makers and bread- 
 makers and efficient upper housemaids, and Connie 
 was a capital polisher of spoons and layer of a 
 table, but Ursula did nothing. 
 
 ^^ Rather than turn drudge at home I will go 
 out as a governess," said she, and from the hard 
 diligence with which she applied to her studies 
 it appeared] that she was, in good earnest, pre- 
 paring herself for some such step. She worked 
 with grammar and dictionaries, she drew, she
 
 A ^'ET^ HOME. 53 
 
 thumped the piano for hours together^ and prac- 
 tised all her severe virtues with the greatest 
 regularity. Connie's sense of justice revolted at 
 this; though willincr to do her share and more 
 than her share of household tasks, she was 
 impatient of Ursula's dignified isolation from 
 our labours, and gave it as her opinion, in 
 which nurse coincided, that she also ought to 
 take a department to herself. I made a point 
 of never interfering with Ursula myself ; I 
 would rather have done her shai'e of work twice 
 over than have asked her to do it ; but Connie 
 was under no such restraint, and one morning 
 when we were going to be especially busy, she 
 said to her — " Ursula, I wish you would charge 
 yourself with the dusting of the books and of 
 the little things in the drawing-room." 
 
 " Has not nurse time to do them ? I promise 
 you I have no taste for amateur housemaiding," 
 replied she tartly. 
 
 "Nurse has not time for everything. Doris 
 and I always make our own bed and do our 
 room from one end to the other, besides dusting 
 mamma's and yours and both parlours."
 
 64 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 "I don't want you to dust my room," said 
 Ursula reddening ; " keep out of it for the 
 future." 
 
 "Then you must do it yourself. Nurse has 
 only one pair of hands, and as we take a regular 
 part in helping her, I think you might attend to 
 the drawing-room tables and the flower-vases." 
 
 " Well, that is enough : you need say no more 
 about it. It will end by my going out, I see," 
 and so, with her customary threat, Ursula closed 
 the discussion. 
 
 The next morning, however, she did her own 
 room thoroughly and dusted both parlours; and 
 papa having remarked as he looked out of the 
 window, that the weeds in the garden were 
 almost getting ahead of the flowers since the 
 warm showers that had lately fallen, nothing 
 would serve her but going out in the full heat 
 of the day to hoe them up ; she stayed in the 
 blazing sun a couple of hours and came in just 
 before dinner in a violent heat and a most acrid 
 temper. 
 
 *• As well be a slave at once as work like this ! " 
 said she enterino; the drawinoi;-room where Connie
 
 A XEW HOilE. 55 
 
 and I were taking oiir rest, after our tasks in the 
 domestic regions were accomplished. '- Here you 
 sit, in white-lianded state, never caring a straw 
 what becomes of me I I have been on my feet 
 ever since I got out of my bed this morning, 
 and I declare I am ready to di'op." 
 
 "You need not make a martyr of yourself, 
 Ursula," said Connie quite unmoved by her 
 pathetic voice. "You might have been drawing 
 at your Turk's head for an hour or two if you 
 had chosen. Xurse wanted you to let the weeds 
 alone. Hollis is coming to-morrow to mow the 
 lawn, and he would have hoed them up in a 
 quarter the time." 
 
 " That is hard ! First I am set to work and 
 then I am told, when I am half dead, that I have 
 done no good." 
 
 " I did not say that, Ursula." 
 
 "'But you meant it. Oh! what a miserable, 
 miserable thing it is to be poor ! " 
 
 " You are making the worst of it, Ursula, but 
 I wish you would not speak so loud ; mamma is 
 in her room and she will hear you," I ventured 
 to say, on which she turned shaqoly round.
 
 5Q TVARP AND WOOF. 
 
 exclaiming in a more veliement, higli-pltclied 
 tone than before : " Now don't you bemoralize 
 me, Doris, for I won't bear it. I will not stay 
 at home to be treated hke this, I am determined. 
 I shall look through the advertisements in The 
 Times to-night to see if there is anything likely 
 to suit me." 
 
 We neither of us attempted to argue against 
 her resolve — perhaps we thought we should be 
 more peaceful at home if she did carry her severe 
 virtues into another sphere.
 
 VII. 
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 The weather was fortunately fine for more than 
 a month after our arrival at Redcross^ and 
 September was a peculiarly beautiful season for 
 its scenery, so that we had grown in a measure 
 accustomed to our new home and almost fond 
 of it, before weary, wet, winterly days arrived 
 to make us prisoners indoors and throw us back 
 on our own resources. 
 
 We had been nearly three months at Grove 
 Cottage before any one called upon us. Arriving 
 in the height of the gay season when many of 
 the residents were absent, we were lost in the 
 crowd of strangers until the growing chill of 
 November dispersed them. We had not wanted 
 for amusement or occupation, and to me the 
 absolute seclusion was an unspeakable rest and
 
 58 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 comfort ; but as the days became dull or stormy 
 Ursula bemoaned it, and declared more strenuously 
 than ever that if this state of isolation was to 
 be perpetual, she should make haste to deliver 
 herself from it by taking a situation. Connie 
 too, with the natural instincts of her age, began 
 to speculate, upon the young folks whom we 
 met in the fields, on the downs, on the shore, 
 and to say whose appearance made her long for 
 their acquaintance; but they came and went in 
 perpetual relays, and not until the grey mists 
 of late autumn hung amongst the trees did 
 we perceive who were the permanent society of 
 Kedcross. In the dim little parish church by 
 that time we had grown familiar with certain 
 faces which afterwards became faces of friends, 
 and during the first week of December we were 
 called upon by the rector and his wife. 
 
 It was a drizzling, overcast day, I remember, 
 towards four o'clock of the afternoon, and we 
 were all together in the drawing-room ; Ursula 
 still hard at work on her Turk's head, taking 
 advantage of the last quarter of an hour's day- 
 light by the window, while the rest of us were
 
 KEW ACQUAINT A2s'CE. 59 
 
 clustered round the fire in the quiet enjoyment 
 of blindman's hoHdav. The loud knock at the 
 door startled papa out of a doze and roused us 
 all; we had become so used to our undisturbed 
 privacy that I fancy this peremptory announce- 
 ment of the advent of a visitor was by most 
 of us regarded as an unwelcome intrusion ; but 
 Ursula exclaimed in a loud whisper^ " Here is 
 somebody at last, thank heaven ! " and the next 
 moment nurse Bradshaw announced, ^Olr. and 
 li^Irs. Maurice." 
 
 They were rather diffident and nervous, as 
 it appeared to me, on their entrance; possibly 
 they had informed themselves of the circum- 
 stances of their new parishioners and were in 
 doubt as to whether or no their visit might 
 prove acceptable. But mamma made room for 
 Mrs. Maurice on the couch beside her, and 
 they soon fell into friendly conversation, while 
 the rector and papa got upon public affairs, and 
 discovered, apparently, that a wide difference 
 of opinion lay between them on most subjects. 
 
 Ursula was not long before she introduced 
 herself into the conversation betvreen mamma and
 
 60 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Mrs. Maurice, which had turned upon the district 
 clothing club, the schools and various other 
 matters of parish business ; she assumed a gi'ave 
 interest in it all, asked questions, made suggestions, 
 and offered opinions in her most civil and sensible 
 way, by degrees drawing Mr. Maurice's attention 
 also upon herself; and finally quite taking the 
 lead, and conveying an impression to the strangers 
 that in this seriously-disposed, practical young 
 woman they would find an efficient assistant in all 
 their benevolent labours and projects. They were 
 evidently much pleased w^ith her, and stayed 
 talking a long hour, passing from one topic to 
 another quite easily and naturally, until we found 
 them speaking to us with kind condolence, as 
 to people under a pressure of recent calamity; 
 alluding to the sweet uses of adversity, the duty 
 of resignation and the simple pleasures of a 
 country life and middle station. 
 
 They took their leave, expressing a hope that 
 they should soon have the pleasure of seeing us 
 again, and hardly had the door closed upon 
 them than Ursula exclaimed in a tone of eager 
 gratulation, —
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 61 
 
 '' I am glad we looked so cosy and comfortable 
 when those people came ! I should say they 
 were thoroughly surprised. Some persons have 
 such queer ideas about those who have been in 
 any way engaged in trade ; but they would see 
 with half a glance that whatever our misfortunes, 
 we have retained the tastes and habits of a class 
 as refined and cultivated as their own. It was 
 lucky I dressed up all the vases with fresh ferns 
 and flowers this morning, and I am quite thank- 
 ful I was at my easel. First impressions are 
 everything with new acquaintance." 
 
 We let Ursula plume herself to her heart's con- 
 tent ; but in talking over what had passed during 
 the visit when papa and mamma were not there, 
 she permitted herself to express some of those 
 sentiments which she always kept for home and 
 private consumption. Connie rather mischiev- 
 ously asked whether she meant to take any 
 practical part in those parish duties, about which 
 she had professed to feel so Hvely an interest. 
 
 "I did not profess any interest at all," was 
 her unhesitating reply. "I said no more than 
 it was perfectly natural and proper to say, and
 
 62 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 if that dowdy body of a clergyman's wife con- 
 siders me pledged to work at lier Jews' basket 
 or Dorcas meetings she will find herself very 
 much mistaken. I shall not join any village 
 union for any purpose whatever. It is all very 
 w^ell for some women to band themselves together 
 in pious little clubs for the furtherance of pious 
 little objects, but it would not suit me." 
 
 It was not always safe to take Ursula at her 
 word; it was difficult to say how she might 
 act when she came to be put to the proof. I 
 had my private opinion, however, that such senti- 
 ments as she had now vented would not go 
 beyond ourselves, and that if her help were 
 sought and made of sufficient importance she 
 would be ready and willing to give it for any 
 object; for she had immense activity and the 
 utmost perseverance in whatever she set her 
 hands to do. What she desired to repudiate 
 was any notion that she was set to work. 
 
 " You will allow yourself to be thrust into a 
 groove at once," she said to me, " but I prefer 
 to be useful and charitable either in my own 
 way or in none ; " and what she desired to gain
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 63 
 
 was an admission into the best society Redcross 
 afforded; as she had so easily adapted her con- 
 versation to what she felt was the tone of our 
 first visitors^ so it was tolerably certain that to 
 assure the attainment of her wishes she would 
 continue to act and speak what seemed most 
 expedient, though she might indemnify herself 
 at home by such little splenetic spurts as that 
 in which she had indulged after the rector and 
 his wife were gone. One could not call Ursula 
 hypocritical, exactly, but she had much of that 
 quality which nurse Bradshaw denominated 
 *' shiftiness," and she veered and trimmed with 
 the prevalent wind of self-interest as much or 
 more than any other person whom I have ever 
 known. It was a weakness in her character 
 which had given Miss Heywood infinite solicitude 
 and care, but it had proved quite beyond her 
 power permanently to correct.
 
 64 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 
 
 A FEW days after Mr. and Mrs. Maurice had 
 called upon us, papa, mamma and Ursula returned 
 their visit and made the acquaintance of the rec- 
 tor's two daughters, whom we knew hj sight as 
 plain, serviceable young women, sitting at church 
 amongst the school children. Ursula described 
 them to us on her return home as "all very 
 well, but not at all in her way ; " she, however, 
 predicted that I should like them, especially the 
 elder, and during Christmas week an in\T[tation 
 to drink tea at the rectory gave me an opportu- 
 nity of judging for myself. 
 
 The note did not mention how many or which 
 of us would be expected, but Ursula immediately 
 laid it down as a rule that two of a family were 
 sufficient, and as papa and mamma had, from the
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 65 
 
 first, decided that they should never go out at all, 
 the lot fell upon herself and me. Connie looked 
 greatly disappointed, but she would not listen 
 to any proposal of my place being resigned to 
 her ; and Ursula declared, rather than that three 
 of us should go, she would stay at home herself; 
 an idea not to be entertained for a moment. 
 
 She said she knew it would be a prosy affair, 
 but she was nevertheless all impatience for it; 
 she was anxious to see what were our chances 
 of society in Redcross, and it gratified her that 
 our first appearance should be made in so un- 
 questionable a place as the rectory drawing-room. 
 
 " Introduced there," said she, " nobody will be 
 afraid of taking us by the hand." 
 
 She was also very sohcitous about our dress 
 and speculated twenty times a day on what might 
 be the general evening style of attire in such a 
 quiet village. She possessed some taste and inge- 
 nuity of contrivance upon her diminished allow- 
 ance, and, being skilful with her needle, managed 
 to have much more variety than Connie or myself, 
 who, in shaping our coats to our fortunes, were 
 obHged to be content with the severest simplicity. 
 
 YOL. I. 5
 
 66 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 She said that from the appearance of Mrs. Maurice 
 and her daughters^ she should conjecture that 
 neutral tints and general limpness were the most 
 orthodox, but she did not feel bound to disfigure 
 herself to propitiate anybody ; and so she should 
 wear her blue silk and black lace with short 
 sleeves, certainly she should wear short sleeves; 
 whatever other people did was of no importance 
 to her. I could not, for my part, look on this 
 visit as of any peculiar moment, neither did I 
 anticipate that any one would be either impressed 
 or disquieted by the fashion of our clothes. I 
 would rather have stayed at home and have let 
 Connie go; but Ursula, it is true, had all her 
 hopes and experience before her, and I had done 
 with the chief part of mine, which was, perhaps, 
 the root of the difference. 
 
 We were very late in reaching the rectory; 
 the invitation had been for six, which Ursula 
 said of course meant seven; and as she refused 
 to set off until the hour had struck, we had the 
 satisfaction of entering the drawing-room after 
 everybody else was assembled and after tea had 
 been kept waiting an hour. Mr. Maurice said
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PART r. 67 
 
 good-humouredly as he received us, ^-'If you 
 joung ladies are going to import such fashion- 
 able practices as these amongst us, I think my 
 wife must bid you for five o'clock when she 
 wants you at six ; " and then he rang the bell 
 and said to the servant who answered it, " Tea 
 immediately." 
 
 jVIrs. Maurice came forward and whispered 
 reprovingly to Ursula, ^-'I thought you were 
 a punctual, methodical person, my dear ; " to 
 which Ursula replied that she would behave 
 better another time, and then the daughters 
 shook hands with us, and Vv^e sat down without 
 being introduced to any of the other guests, who 
 numbered about a dozen besides ourselves. We 
 were already familiar with most of their faces 
 by seeing them so often at church, and as they 
 afterwards formed a principal part of our society, 
 I shall proceed by describing them. They were 
 the serious body in Redcross, or, as I afterwards 
 heard them denominated, the T. P. party. 
 
 First there was Mrs. Peacocke, wife of the 
 parish doctor, who had all the effect of a gorgeous 
 painted window against the wall where she sat at 
 
 5 — 2
 
 68 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 church, and who now kept Ursula in counte- 
 nance by being in very full dress ; there was 
 Mrs. Braithwaite, a childless young widow, who 
 also served the purposes of ecclesiastical orna- 
 ment, and glowed and glittered in her pew like 
 a newly blazoned escutcheon; there was Miss 
 Pegge Burnell, a very rich deformed old lady, 
 who resided at the Priory and owned nearly all 
 the property about Redcross; she now sat in 
 a screened chair, looking very much like a cross 
 poll parrot in its cage, eyeing myself and Ursula 
 as strangers with lynx-eyed severity. She was 
 not reputed pious, but she had a passion for 
 society and was always invited wherever a few 
 persons congregated together for social purposes. 
 There was Miss Cranmer, a fine-looking woman 
 of thirty or thereabouts ; and there was Miss 
 Theodora Bousfield, who might own to half a 
 dozen years more, and who had been a very 
 fascinating and ample beauty in her day; she 
 seemed yet to cultivate the social graces with 
 success and looked like a choice flower which 
 had undergone transplantation from fashionable 
 life, but had borne it extremely vrell. There
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 69 
 
 were also two Miss Layels, wiio appeared to be 
 nearly as great strangers as ourselves; one a pretty, 
 fair woman with flowing ringlets, the other small, 
 dark and unnoticeable ; and two Miss Foxleys 
 from Scarcliffe, limp and dreary people. 
 
 The gentlemen, as is usual at country tea- 
 parties, were much fewer than the ladies. Besides 
 the rector and Ms son Charles, a curly-headed 
 young collegian, there w^ere only four — IVir. Pea- 
 cocke, the doctor, who was very short and very 
 fat, who rolled in his chair, talked and laughed 
 loud, and defeated all his smart little wife's labours 
 to trim and pare him according to her own notions 
 of gentility; Mr. Stewart, the curate, a hard- 
 working man engaged to Miss Martha Maurice; 
 Mr. Foxley, a clergyman in Scarcliffe, a thick- 
 limbed, middle-aged bachelor, with a round, 
 shining bald head, a fleshy white face all in 
 folds about the jaws and chin, and small pale 
 eyes, irresistibly suggestive of puss ; and lastly, 
 there w^as Mr. Barstow, a perfect figure of fun, 
 the oddest little man I ever saw in my life ; 
 very slender and buttoned up tight in a velvet- 
 coUared coat ; his head inclined to the left shoulder
 
 70 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and a curl of a highly lackered wig brought 
 round to shade what looked singularly like a glass 
 eye; he wore a moustache and a chin tuft and 
 stood about the room in attitudes. He bore in 
 Redcross the sobriquet of the " Fortuner," having 
 recently come into possession of a considerable 
 estate in the neighbourhood as heir-at-law to a 
 very distant relative who had died intestate. He 
 was said to have been a barber in London, and 
 if that were correct his eccentricities in hair were 
 accounted for. 
 
 Rather to my amusement, without any intro- 
 duction, he attached himself to my sister Ursula, 
 than whom no one could possibly have been less 
 tolerant of his peculiarities; and though she 
 changed her seat several times in the course of 
 the evening she never quite succeeded in getting 
 rid of him. After tea had been disposed of, I 
 found myself near Miss Pegge Burnell, with 
 Mr. Peacocke at my elbow ; and while thus 
 arranged, Mrs. Maurice brought up Mr. Foxley 
 to the screened chair and introduced him, adding 
 in a whisper perfectly audible to the subject of 
 it, " A most devout, right-headed and excellent
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 71 
 
 man. Miss Pegge Burnell, whose delightful con- 
 versation I am sure you will be able to appre- 
 ciate ; " with which compliment, cutting both ways, 
 she smiled on them benignly and left them to 
 improve their acquaintance. IMiss Pegge Bumell 
 looked very sour over it, and placed where I was, 
 it was impossible to avoid hearing the reason. 
 
 Mr. Poxley was an unctuous person whose 
 talk was as a stream of treacle, so thickly sweet 
 and slow gliding. His style and manner were 
 of the famihar, and in the course of a very few 
 sentences, the old lady was his ^-dear friend," 
 much to her annoyance, if the expression of her 
 countenance might be trusted. No doubt he 
 knew Miss Pegge Biuniell's fame and fortunes, 
 and thought her one worthy of all his eloquence ; 
 for he soon launched himself into a profound 
 polemical treatise, emphasizing every proposition 
 with a pudgy forefinger on his square right knee, 
 and going on long, slow, untiring, until his victim 
 suddenly looked up in his stolid visage with a 
 wicked twinkle of mockery in her vivid eyes ; 
 when he all at once lost the thread of his argu- 
 ment and could not, for confusion, catch it again.
 
 72 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell's mischievous glance had 
 been provoked by an incautious whisper and 
 laugh behind her from Mr. Peacocke, " Do you 
 see how enthusiastically Mr. Foxley is labouring 
 for the conversion of the heathen/' addressed to 
 no one in particular, but duly appreciated by 
 Mrs. Braithwaite and Miss Theodora Bousfield, 
 who heard it as well as myself. Mr. Foxley's 
 white face became warmly suffused, and as Miss 
 Pegge Burnell turned round to the little doctor 
 and said, " Thank you for a happy deliverance," 
 he, with a cowardice unworthy of so high a cause, 
 removed himself from the vicinity of female ridi- 
 cule and retreated to the hearthrug, where he 
 caught the curate by the button and held him 
 there, expatiating on vexed points of church dis- 
 cipline and abstruse matters of faith and doctrine 
 while a select circle gathered round him to listen 
 and applaud. 
 
 Then he was in his glory. Mrs. Peacocke, 
 whose love of finery was at open variance with 
 her professed evangelical principles, stood gazing 
 up at him with intense appreciation, continually 
 circulating little notes of admiration amongst the
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 73 
 
 company that might have undermined the meek- 
 ness of Moses. Mrs. Maurice was less com- 
 mendatory; perhaps she did not like the innova- 
 tion at all, or perhaps she thought that her own 
 husband might have occupied the hearthrug more 
 profitably ; but Mr. Foxley's remorseless powers 
 of holding forth had long established him as 
 special preacher at every tea-party he frequented 
 within a circuit of five miles round his parish. 
 But, at length, he crave utterance to a sentiment 
 which admitted of a little friendly controversy, 
 and then was the time for the rector to strike 
 in with a doubt and a demur, which he did with 
 apostolic warmth and eagerness of tone. While 
 they were in the heat of it, Mr. Peacocke slipped 
 into a chair by Miss Pegge Bumell and asked 
 her which of the parsons she backed: and pre- 
 sently he turned round to Miss Theodora Bousfield 
 and entreated her to give them a little music. 
 " Restore harmony, you know," said he sig- 
 nificantly, for the voices of the controversialists 
 were rapidly rising above the pitch of friendly 
 argument. 
 
 It was wonderfril to see with what eaoferness his
 
 74 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 suggestion was seized upon by all the audience, 
 which swiftly melted away from the pulpit of 
 eloquence and re-congealed round the piano. 
 Probably Miss Theodora Bousfield's claim to be a 
 member of the serious party in Redcross rested 
 mainly, if not wholly, on the fact of her playing 
 the organ in church ; and as she always selected 
 her music to suit her company, on this occasion 
 she had come provided with a choice of hymns 
 which she sang beautifully; being assisted, more 
 or less out of tune, by nearly everybody else, 
 until Miss Pegge Burnell cried out, " Don't give 
 us any more of those methodistical things. Miss 
 Theo! let us have a fine rousing tmie, such as 
 they play at the opera." 
 
 The muscles of many faces relaxed during the 
 pause of awful silence which followed this request, 
 and then Miss Theodora complied, to most people's 
 undissembled satisfaction ; Mr. Peacocke and my- 
 self at once drew near her to listen. 
 
 " Terrible body. Miss Pegge Burnell," whispered 
 the doctor in my ear ; " but enormously rich ; one 
 foot in the grave, but her whole heart in the world, 
 bless her ! Our worthy hostess has undertaken her
 
 A SEEIOUS TEA-PARTY. 75 
 
 conversion — perhaps she has an eje to the poor 
 old soul's money as well — but she won't get 
 any of it. Miss Pegge has left it all to found a 
 Society for the Suppression of Fools — she told me 
 so herself." 
 
 I thought I should like to have the pleasure of 
 the queer old lady's acquaintance, and when Miss 
 Theodora Bousfield's song was done, Mr. Peacocke 
 said he thought he could manage it for me, and 
 went off on tiptoe to clear the way, Miss Pegge 
 Burnell being far too formidable a person to be 
 approached without preliminaries. I then saw 
 her advance her head round one side of her fenced 
 chair and heard her say in reference to myself, 
 '' She does not look quite such a formal idiot as her 
 sister with the shai-p nose — yes, you may bring 
 her; but hark, doctor, I won't have her coming 
 about the Priory with any evangelizing designs, 
 tell her that first, d'ye hear ? " 
 
 Mr. Peacocke bent his head and gave a whis- 
 pered explanation which caused her to gi'in with 
 delight ; she then beckoned me to approach, 
 received me with two wags of her turban, and 
 stretched out a withered claw to appoint me to a
 
 76 WAllP AND WOOF. 
 
 vacant chair beside her ; after which she looked 
 me over with unwinking scrutiny for the space of 
 a minute, and then asked how much a yard I had 
 given for the material of which my dress was 
 composed. Her curiosity on that point being 
 satisfied, she felt its quality and remarked; ^^I 
 don't like your stiff rustling silks myself; give me a 
 satin that can be drawn through a ring ; " stroking 
 the soft glossy sheen of her own raiment. " I 
 hate to hear a parcel of women fussing and clut- 
 tering round a room like a family of hens in full 
 cluck ; they should be seen and not heard, as I tell 
 them ; but I might as well speak to a stone wall. 
 Scarcely one in ten seems to have any idea in 
 what true grace and loveliness consist. Look at 
 Mrs. Peacocke with her lean, impertinent little 
 shoulders stuck a quarter of a yard out of her 
 gown ; if you were to take her by the nape of her 
 neck and shake her you would shake her out of 
 it altogether. Theodora Bousfield is the best 
 dresser I know ; she is perfectly accomplished in 
 the art of simplicity, and oh ! what an art that is ! ' 
 This was not the style of conversation I had 
 anticipated from this crooked old woman who had
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 77 
 
 left her money to found a Society for the Suppres- 
 sion of Fools, and whose face was one parchmenty 
 map of fine wrinkles with the framework so 
 shai-ply defined as irresistibly to suggest the date 
 when Miss Peeo-e Burnell would wear nothinor but 
 
 CO o 
 
 her bones. "Look what frights some of these 
 professing Christians are ; " she went on ; " is it 
 not enough to scare young people out of the right 
 way to see what tasteless dowdies are tramping 
 along it? their limp petticoats hampering their 
 feet, their backs up, their chins poking, and their 
 eyes either shut or looking as slyly demure as cats 
 after cream. If I could be young and pretty 
 again I would not make such a guy of myself for 
 twenty kingdoms of heaven." 
 
 I could not help contemplating the irreverent 
 old lady with sheer amaze — pretty! could Miss 
 Pegge Burnell have ever been pretty, or did only 
 the inextinguishable vanity of her sex lead her 
 to imply it for the sake of sentiment ? I inclined 
 to the latter conclusion, for there was no single 
 trace of beauty left on her quaint, ancient visage, 
 and grace she could surely have had none with 
 such a distorted form. She was gifted with a
 
 78 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 deep, unmodulated voice, in which she went on 
 growling her original observations until the music 
 ceased, and I became aware that they must be 
 distinctly audible throughout the room, which had 
 suddenly become silent in every other quarter; 
 and looking round, I perceived Mrs. Maurice 
 shaking a monitory forefinger at the screened 
 chair, while Mr. Foxley, drawn up before the 
 centre table with a pair of candles and a large 
 Bible before him, was clearing his throat and 
 sucking lozenges as a prelude to exposition. 
 
 Before beginning, he promenaded his eyes from 
 face to face, reducing each to a formal look of 
 attention, hemmed sonorously, and then read out 
 one of the most beautiful of the New Testament 
 parables, the meaning of which is obvious to a 
 child's understanding and capable only of being 
 diluted and darkened by a superfluous haze of 
 explanations. Nevertheless Mr. Foxley improved 
 it by a discourse of five- and-twen ty minutes — a 
 discourse of ungrammatical trivialities not bearing 
 on the text in the slightest manner. The parable 
 was the great lesson of universal charity which 
 he turned into a bigoted denunciation of all
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PAETY. 79 
 
 Koman Catholics ; for the negro^ the Mahom- 
 medan, the mild Hindoo, the cannibal islander, 
 he had a tender pity and sympathy, but for the 
 idolatrous papist he had nothmg but hatred, 
 malice, and uncharitableness. I cannot remember 
 whenever I had felt so irritated before ; but 
 throughout his drivel, drawl, and whine he 
 sustained no interruption save once, when an 
 irrepressible snarl issued from the depths of 
 Miss Pegge Bumell's chair of, " Oh ! somebody, 
 for mercy's sake, put him down, will you ? " to 
 which, of course, all were discreetly deaf, only a 
 stifled titter from my sister Ursula testifying to 
 any appreciation of the absurdity of the scene. 
 He wound up his discourse with some abruptness, 
 and kneeling down with his eyes shut, delivered 
 a long-winded discursive -prsLjev with a special 
 clause in favour of the offender, which was broken 
 in upon by the hasty opening and closing of the 
 door ; this suggested that supper must be ready, 
 and made some people dreadfully impatient of the 
 prolongation of Mr. Foxley's petition. When he 
 finally permitted us to rise from our knees it 
 was but too evident that most of us had been
 
 80 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 yawning and rubbing our eyes for ever so long ; 
 and tbe poor little Fortuner in his agonies of 
 weariness had pushed his wig awry^ so that the 
 curl meant to shroud the mystery of his left eye 
 was now hanging below his ear. 
 
 The company was then marshalled in to supper, 
 Mr. Peacocke offering his arm to Miss Pegge 
 Burnell, who instantly gave vent to her temper by 
 a perfectly distinct exclamation of, " Will anybody 
 try to make me believe that the Deity is gratified 
 by that pointless exposition and snuffling prayer 
 while we are hungering for our suppers ? Thomas 
 Foxley is not worshipping God but himself when 
 he turns private drawing-rooms into conventicles, 
 and prays such spiteful nonsense as he prayed 
 to-night. Talking about the filthy flesh, indeed, 
 and ordering us all to mortify it ; mark him when 
 it comes to the eating and see how he pampers 
 his own. If there's trifle, only observe how he 
 wallows in it, and his example will go a long 
 way further in disgusting us than a volume of 
 precepts." 
 
 There was a trifle, and the dish being placed 
 before me, I had the pleasure of helping Mr.
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 81 
 
 Foxley thrice to that dainty, which he absorbed 
 in a slow, ruminative way nntil his countenance 
 shone again with carnal enjoyment; he had 
 previously acquitted himself well towards the 
 fowls and ham, and had not done amiss in the 
 matter of apricot tartlets; neither did he after- 
 wards fail as regarded pound-cake, biscuits, 
 filberts and candied fruits, and I am sure our 
 host and hostess had the sincerest pleasure in 
 seeing how he appreciated their hospitality. 
 
 The conversation was chiefly between neigh- 
 bours ; and Miss Pegge Burnell, who was one of 
 mine, did not fail of topics for her delightful 
 observations. Towards the end of supper her 
 attention was attracted to the dark little Miss 
 Layel, and she asked me if I knew who the sisters 
 were. I said, no, I now met all the guests present 
 for the first time, on which she replied, — 
 
 '' They are tenants of mine, but I never saw 
 them before. I rather like the brown little phiz, 
 it is so sagacious aud quizzical, but the other 
 looks too much of the languishing maiden for 
 me — however, I must make their acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 YOL. I. 6
 
 82 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Our rising from the supper-table appeared to 
 be the signal for a general dispersion; all the 
 ladies trooped upstairs to put on cloaks and shawls 
 except the two Miss Layels who had left theirs in 
 the hall. As I followed last in the file, I saw 
 them put them on, receive a lighted lantern from 
 one of the servants and disappear out at the front 
 door, so that when Miss Pegge Burnell looked 
 round amongst us to find them and ask for her 
 introduction, they were gone. She was obliged 
 to content herself, therefore, with inquiring of 
 Miss Maurice, who had accompanied us upstairs, 
 who they were. But Miss Maurice had little 
 information to give. 
 
 " They told me they had taken your Ivy 
 Cottage for a year," said she, "and that Miss 
 Kitty — that is, the fair one with curls — wished to 
 get some teaching; I understood that the other 
 had been a governess too. They appear to be 
 young women of ladylike tastes, but not well off ; 
 so mamma asked them to come here this evening ; 
 she thought it might be a little amusement for 
 them, poor things ! " 
 
 " By the by, my dear, don't let your mother
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 83 
 
 ask me again when you are going to liave that 
 angelical Mr. Foxley, for I won't meet him. He 
 absolutely dared to pray for me loud out, the 
 impudent fellow," said Miss Pegge Bumell with 
 much irritation. Fortunately the maiden sisters 
 of the gentleman alluded to had been carried 
 by our hostess to another room to wrap up pre- 
 vious to their departure, but the old lady did 
 not ascertain the fact until she had expressed 
 her feelings, when she glanced round in some 
 alarm. 
 
 " I know he is not a favourite of yours, " replied 
 Miss Maurice, apologetically : " he wants tact, 
 but I do believe he has good intentions." 
 
 "Good intentions, my dear, are the most 
 mischievous things I know ; it is not without 
 reason they have become the proverbial pavement 
 of hell. They have done me harm to-night. I 
 don't know when I have felt so wicked ! " and 
 pulling a large brown silk calash over her turban. 
 Miss Pegge Bumell discharged at us collectively 
 an angry nod and hobbled off on Miss Maurice's 
 arm to her carriage. When she was out of sight 
 and hearing, Mrs. Peacocke shook her head 
 
 6—2
 
 84 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 dolorously, and remarked bow awful it was to 
 see a woman at her age in such an impenitent 
 state^ but as the observation failed to elicit any 
 return personality, she simpered a very civil 
 circular " good-night," and disappeared to join her 
 husband, who had called out twice already from 
 the foot of the stairs, " Now, Jane Hannah, are 
 you ready ? " 
 
 As my sister Ursula and I were crossing the 
 grove fields homewards, she betrayed with some 
 bitterness how Miss Maurice's words ^^ poor 
 things," with reference to the Miss Layels, had 
 stuck in her memory. " I hate patronage ! " said 
 she. '^ Poor things ! I daresay Mrs. Maurice said 
 the same of us — let them come to tea, it will be a 
 little amusement for them, poor things ! And it 
 was a little amusement ; it was as good as a play 
 for once. Miss Pegge Burnell and Mr. Toxley 
 were most deliciously farcical, and as for the 
 Fortuner, he is comedy incarnate ! But I hope 
 we have not dug down yet into the best strata « 
 of Redcross society, for it would be an insup- 
 portable bore if every party we went to turned 
 out a-pr caching."
 
 A SERIOUS TEA-PARTY. 85 
 
 " Honour to whom honour is due," said I ; 
 '- the Maurices are genuine, good, pious, kind 
 people." 
 
 "I don't say a word against them, only they 
 should have added to their note of invitation, 
 ' Sermon and Prayer before supper,' and then we 
 might have gone in morning costume and suitable 
 temper. As it was, being taken by surprise, I 
 could not prevent the most ridiculous thoughts 
 coursing through my mind. I don't remember 
 ever before being inclined to mock and scoff at 
 holy things as I did while Mr. Foxley was 
 holding forth against the pomps and vanities; I 
 am persuaded that the interests of true religion 
 would be much better served by the abolition of 
 that gentleman than by his encouragement. And 
 as for that stuck-up little pharisee, ^Irs. Peacocke, 
 she is perfectly odious — canting and grimacing 
 and, if I am not very much mistaken, with as 
 stern and selfish a heart in her bosom as ever beat 
 visibly under an insufficiency of tucker. How 
 can her husband let her go out so di-essed — or 
 rather undressed? and she a woman of such 
 obvious pious pretensions. I am sure I don't
 
 86 WABP AND WOOF. 
 
 care if not a single one of all the people we have 
 met to-night calls upon us ; I shall wait a short 
 time longer to see if our prospects improve, and 
 then, if they don't, I shall certainly take a situa- 
 tion."
 
 87 
 
 IX. 
 
 A PERSONAGE. 
 
 But the following morning !Mr. and Mrs. Peacocke 
 honoured us with a visits during which the con- 
 versation turned naturally upon the previous 
 evening's entertainment. Ursula was always fond 
 of acquiring personal information about her ac- 
 quaintance, and keen as was her distaste for the 
 doctor's affected little wife, she did not hesitate 
 to make use of her as a fountain of village in- 
 telligence, — not, perhaps, taking into consideration 
 how the intellicrence mio-ht be vitiated which was 
 drawn from such a source. 
 
 Mrs. Peacocke seemed by no means displeased 
 at being referred to, and her sanctimonious little 
 visage, set off by a garlanded bonnet from the 
 shop of the showiest milliner in Scarcliffe, beamed 
 round upon us all the most complacent patronage. 
 She gave her views of Miss Pegge Burnell, which
 
 88 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 were far from complimentary ; and of the For- 
 tuner, which were surprisingly flattering. She 
 informed us that Miss Theodora Bousfield was 
 the daughter of Dr. Bousfield, professor of music, 
 and that she herself gave lessons in singing on 
 very high terms. Miss Cranmer, she said, was 
 a person of high cultivation who had lived in 
 the best society both at home and abroad, and 
 who appeared to know the genealogy and private 
 history of everybody who was anybody either 
 at Redcross or elsewhere. Mrs. Braithwaite she 
 had heard, but would not like it to be repeated 
 on her authority, was the widow of a wealthy 
 London draper. 
 
 " For some people think so meanly of trade, 
 you know," she added with her cautious, confi- 
 dential simper. "I am above such poor pride 
 myself; but you will not let it go any further, 
 for it may be only a calumny, only a mistake, 
 you know." 
 
 Ursula's expression of countenance was worth 
 observing at this moment, but she kept a tight 
 hold over herself, and only asked rather abruptly 
 if Mrs. Peacocke was acquainted with the Layels.
 
 A PERSONAGE. 89 
 
 "I know them just to speak to and that is 
 all," was her reply. " One or the other of them 
 generally attends our Dorcas meetings, but I have 
 not felt it necessar)' to call upon them. They 
 are in poor circumstances, and I am given to 
 understand, desire pupils to teach ; but I am 
 sure I should not like to entrust girls of mine 
 to Miss Lay el's charge." 
 
 " Why not ? " inquired Ursula. 
 
 "I met her several times during the autumn 
 carrying quite a heavy basket of mould — of earth, 
 you know — and she did not appear in the least 
 discomposed. She said she wanted it for her 
 plants, and the soil m the borders at her cottage 
 was too stijff for fuchsias and geraniums, so she 
 had fetched that from the Avonmore woods. It 
 was ignorance ; I am sure she did not know 
 there was anything singular in her walking about 
 the country with a basket and trowel, — or, per- 
 haps, if she did she would have done it all the 
 same. I believe she sets up for an original." 
 
 "No, no, Jane Hannah," interposed the little 
 doctor in a tone of good-humoured deprecation; 
 " she is a working bee, and I have a sincere
 
 90 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 respect for lier. If she sets up for anything it 
 is for a philosophress. I thought it quite plea- 
 sant to hear her say that she enjoyed every inno- 
 cent pleasure she could lay her hands on and 
 her patch of garden especially. You ladies would 
 not be troubled with so many fantastical ailments 
 if you would cultivate cheerfulness on Miss Layel's 
 principle. What was it she remarked about 
 happiness, my dear ? " 
 
 " Oh, she said there was great waste of happi- 
 ness in the world for want of people havine; 
 courage to be happy in their own way ; but 
 there was nothing particularly wise in that, that 
 I can see. It was only a lame defence for her 
 own eccentricities and her assertion of her right 
 and resolution to please herself, however she 
 might outrage public opinion." 
 
 At these strong words papa looked up and 
 wished to know who was the intrepid little woman 
 that dared do that in so small a community as 
 Redcross. On being told it was a Miss Lay el, 
 he said he once knew a family of Layels in 
 London — people in the law. 
 
 Mrs. Peacocke figuratively pricked up her ears
 
 A PERSONAGE. 91 
 
 with curiosity to hear more, and said with a 
 view of eliciting some further information tliat 
 the Christian names of the sisters were Katherine 
 and Janet. 
 
 " Poor Kitty Layel ! " said mamma interested. 
 "Yes, papa, these girls must be the daughters 
 of our old friend who was so unfortmiate." 
 
 " Then their antecedents are respectable?" said 
 Mrs. Peacocke ; " I am glad to hear it. I saw 
 they had been fairly educated. But how was 
 their father unfortunate — not in a way to disgrace 
 them, I trust ? " 
 
 "No, ma'am," replied papa tartly, "not in a 
 way to disgrace anybody. The young women 
 are to be pitied, but not avoided; I lost sight 
 of him some years ago, and now I suppose he 
 is dead and his children are left unprovided for 
 — nothing singular in that for the children of 
 professional men." 
 
 " He ought to have insured his life ; the neglect 
 of that precaution by persons with a family, 
 whose income expires at their death, is absolutely 
 immoral;' said Mrs. Peacocke, glancing indig- 
 nantly at her husband. " If Mr. Layel was
 
 92 WARP AND WOOr. 
 
 unfortunate it was most likely his own fault, 
 arising out of the same carelessness or wilfulness 
 which caused him to leave undone that very 
 obvious and necessary duty to his children. 
 Whenever I hear of a family being plunged into 
 poverty, I always feel that blame must be some- 
 where. Troubles do not come of themselves, 
 you know, and those who are prudent get on 
 and maintain a position in the world. I have 
 no sympathy whatever with those who are com- 
 monly called mifortunate, for I was never applied 
 to for relief by any of them that I failed to trace 
 home their calamities to their own misconduct." 
 Mamma sighed, and papa said sarcastically, — 
 ^^ It is a well-known fact that the vii'tuous are 
 always in prosperity." 
 
 " I would not go quite so far as to say that^^ 
 returned Mrs. Peacocke, smiling with invincible 
 complacency ; " for every rule has its exception. 
 However, these young women are not responsible 
 for the errors of their father, but we may regret ^ 
 for their own sake, that since they have con- 
 fessedly their bread to earn they should make 
 themselves in any way conspicuous."
 
 A PERSONAGE. 93 
 
 "What have they clone besides carrying that 
 basket of mould ? " asked Ursula. 
 
 Mrs. Peacocke was less ready with particulars 
 than with generalizations; she said she had no 
 special accusation to bring against Miss Layel or 
 her sister ; she really knew very little about 
 them and she had no intention of cultivating 
 their acquaintance further. 
 
 ^^ If you do not call upon them, Jane Hannah, 
 I shall," announced the little doctor cheerfully ; 
 " they are very nice, modest, unpretending young 
 women, but sensibly as they live, they inust be 
 ill or have an accident some day, and I cannot 
 afford to put a patient in mine enemy's pocket." 
 
 " I am sure you will not call upon them, John," 
 responded his wife with great decision. 
 
 He laughed, gave papa a comical, intelligent 
 glance, and jumped up from his seat saying, — 
 
 " This is not a visit, but a visitation, my dear. 
 Give the young ladies your message, and let us 
 be going." 
 
 " That is well thought on," returned she, re- 
 coverino; her careful smile and shalvins* out her 
 flounces. " Will you kindly waive the ceremony
 
 94 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 of a return visit and join our little Dorcas society 
 at my house to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock. 
 I will take no denial. Miss Ursula, you must 
 come." 
 
 Ursula received the peremptory invitation in 
 lofty silence, and when Mr. Peacocke and his 
 wife were gone, she ambled two or three times 
 the length of the room, spreadmg her skirts 
 abroad and mincing her steps as if she were 
 about to break into a dance like our patronizing 
 new acquaintance ; but after a few turns of this 
 initiative exercise, she stopped short and ex- 
 claimed with a red and angry face, — 
 
 "Must to me! Must go to her Dorcas meet- 
 ing, indeed ; little, conceited, fan-tailed pigeon ! 
 I shall do nothing of the kind. I can accommo- 
 date myself to most people, but her insufferable 
 airs of patronage positively make me sick. And 
 mind this, Doris, I forbid you to make any excuse 
 for me. If she asks why I am not there to- 
 morrow, you are to tell her roundly I would 
 not come." 
 
 " She is immense fun, I think," said Connie ; 
 " I liked to watch how she was taking a stealthy
 
 A PEESONAGE. 95 
 
 inventory of all the contents of the room and 
 appraising the cost of our dresses while she was 
 turning her careful little periods." 
 
 "I do not think I ever saw a more artificial 
 person ; she is like a mosaic doll/' added Ursula. 
 '' There is far more flourish than fact about her, 
 that is sure. Then her voice, her accent ! Take 
 mj word for it if that woman ever opens her 
 mouth and ventures to be natural she must be 
 vulgar." 
 
 " To my mind the most homelv provincial 
 accent would be less vulgar than her clipped 
 and mincing speech," said I. 
 
 *^ Come, come, girls, enough of this backbiting," 
 interposed papa ; " if the woman was born a fool, 
 can she help it ? You take too much exception 
 to the works of Providence ; " and our criticism 
 having received its full complement ceased.
 
 96 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 X. 
 
 A VILLAGE DORCAS MEETING. 
 
 After all Ursula's uncompromising declarations 
 that notMng should induce lier to attend Mrs. 
 Peacocke's Dorcas meeting, I was rather astonished 
 the next day when she followed Connie and my- 
 self upstairs after dinner and said she thought 
 she would go. 
 
 " You might as well," replied Connie, who saw 
 she only waited for a little persuasion; and it 
 ended by our getting ready at once. 
 
 When we returned to the drawing-room to 
 supply ourselves with the needful tools, papa 
 looked up from his newspaper and remarked 
 mischievously, — 
 
 "So you have repented, Ursie, and are going 
 to play at Dorcas after all, are you ? " 
 
 " I am going to walk down the road with my'
 
 A VILLAGE DORCAS ISIEETING. 97 
 
 sisters and I shall make up my mind on the 
 vfSLj^^ was her reply. 
 
 But I think Ursula's mind was made up 
 abeady, for, of course, she went in with us, and, 
 of course, she received Mrs. Peacocke's welcome 
 with the utmost ease and amiability; and that 
 lady, who was capable of appreciating her powers 
 as a needlewoman, quickly set her to work on a 
 blue striped shirt. She said she was glad to see 
 three of us, for they were short of hands that 
 afternoon in the unavoidable absence of some of 
 the members ; but the room appeared to me very 
 full, and amongst the industrious sisterhood I 
 perceived many more strange faces than faces 
 that I knew. 
 
 This Dorcas Society's affairs were, as I learnt 
 that day, managed by twelve committee ladies 
 with Mrs. Maurice for their president, and each 
 lady was bound in turn to receive the meeting in 
 her best parlour and comfort it with coffee and 
 biscuits. There was a great difference, my 
 neighbour Miss Cranmer informed me, m the 
 quantity of the one and the quality of tne other 
 as dispensed at the various ladies' houses. Some 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 gave genuine Moctia and sweet fancy biscuits 
 mixed at fifteenpence the pound; but Mrs. 
 Peacocke only gave indifferent cbieory boiled, 
 and those dry, chaffy, soda biscuits which always 
 taste of deal box ; but then she and the other 
 ladies who kept her economy in countenance 
 made up for it by superior gentility and thinner 
 china. Mrs. Braithwaite gave the best biscuits, 
 but she was said to make them with her own 
 hands, and so, as Miss Cranmer sapiently observed, 
 *^they cost her nothing and were always crisp, 
 fresh, and abundant :" but about the china, Mrs. 
 Braithwaite possessed the very finest foreign. 
 
 For two hours after our arrival any conversa- 
 tion had to be carried on at broken intervals and 
 in whispers, for an miinteresting volume of mis- 
 sionary travels was then in course of being read 
 aloud, not much, I fear, to the edification of any 
 of the company; but it was an institution that 
 such works only should be admitted for the 
 society's intellectual refreshment, and they were 
 endured, save by a very small minority, with the 
 most exemplary patience. At five o'clock, how- 
 ever, an interlude of twenty minutes was allowed
 
 A VILLAGE DOECAS J^EEETIXG. 99 
 
 for rest, and while Tve were discontentedly 
 refreshing ourselves with the blue-milked cups 
 of chicory and^the chaff biscuits, talk was in- 
 dulged in without any shaking of heads or up- 
 lifting of warning forefingers, such as I had 
 previously observed directed to remote corners 
 where a little whispered surreptitious gossip was 
 being transacted. I had now an opportunity of 
 speaking to Miss Pegge Burnell, who, for any 
 work she had done, might just as well have been 
 at home — better, perhaps, for she was a most 
 restless mortal and would talk at improper seasons ; 
 and not beino; able to modulate her voice to the 
 discreet undertone in which alone disagreeable 
 thino-s ouo;ht to be said, she must have been the 
 cause of much dissembled wrath and confusion. 
 Here are some of her delightful remarks, ^' Over- 
 dressed woman that Mrs. Braithwaite is ! Why 
 does she not wear a cap ? Try as she will she 
 cannot hide that she is close upon fiiity." " There 
 is a spot on Arabella Brown's nose again — I am 
 not going to call them Brown-Standon, not I! 
 Was not old Brown's name good enough for his 
 son that he must tag his mother's to it? for 
 
 7—2
 
 100 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 distinction's sake forsooth ! " " Who cares about 
 the Quishamanco tribes ? the book is dulh What 
 do thej want with sun bonnets in Central Africa ? 
 The women were made black that they might 
 neither freckle nor tan. We should be better 
 employed stitching and tailoring for the little 
 Linsets at Allington Creek; they've scarcely a 
 thread on them." "How I hate your modern 
 professional philanthropy! modern professional 
 fudge ! " ^^ I come here to see the fashions, 
 nothing else I assure you. Mrs. Peacocke is 
 always got up like a London milliner's doll — but 
 I come in my oldest gown, for I have some 
 idea left of the fitness of things, and Dorcases 
 have no business to appear in braided hair and 
 costly apparel." 
 
 Here Miss Cranmer slipped in beside the old 
 lady, and made a long and apparently interesting 
 communication to her respecting Miss Layel, 
 who, having crumbled her biscuit into her cup 
 of coffee and set down both almost untasted, had 
 again retired to her secluded seat and resumed 
 her labours on the child's petticoat that had been 
 assigned her to make. Mrs. Peacocke was not
 
 A VILLAGE DORCAS MEETING. 101 
 
 oblivious of the slight passed on her ' hospitality, 
 and observed significantly, that she was afraid 
 Miss Layel did not like coffee ; but Miss Layel 
 was either absent in mind or rather deaf, for she 
 took no notice of the observation and did not 
 appear to have heard it. From this little incident 
 my attention was suddenly recalled by hearing 
 Miss Pegge Burnell say ; 
 
 ^^ Mrs. Peacocke, are you acquainted with any 
 of the works of Mr. Alwyn Cragg ? " 
 
 That lady said no — who was he and what had 
 he written? 
 
 '' He is a novelist," replied Miss Pegge Burnell, 
 and then looking over to the diligent Miss Layel, 
 she asked, " Miss Layel, I am sure you are an 
 omnivorous devourer of literature ; — can you re- 
 commend me any one of that gentleman's stories 
 in particular ? " 
 
 Miss Layel looked up and answered that she 
 was afraid she could not, and then immediately 
 reverted to her petticoat. 
 
 *^I hope Miss Layel finds something better to 
 do than weakening her mind and wasting her 
 time over novels," added Mrs. Peacocke.
 
 102 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 " They are a very pernicious form of literature," 
 said Mrs. Maurice ; " I should encourage no one 
 in reading them." 
 
 '^Now I like them/* returned Miss Pegge 
 Burnell; "even in a moral point of view there 
 is often an excellent suggestive lesson to be found 
 in a novel, "far more likely to be applicable to 
 common life than anything, let us say, in Tlie 
 Natural History and Habits of Termites, which 
 you have your hand on at this moment, Mrs. 
 President; unless, indeed, we put aside the 
 white ants as secondary and contemplate the 
 fine example of patience and perseverance in the 
 man who found out all about them." 
 
 " And I do not like them," said Mrs. Peacocke 
 with an air of pious reproach. " Let me beg of 
 you to put it to your conscience, my dear Miss 
 Pegge Burnell, is there anything profitable to 
 the immortal soul in reading novels ? Will novels 
 help us on our way to heaven ? Can we reflect 
 on the hours wasted over novels on a deathbed 
 with any satisfaction ? " 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " ejaculated Miss Pegge 
 Burnell acrimoniously ; " how will everything
 
 A VILLAGE DOECAS MEETING. 103 
 
 look from that point of view ? How will feathers, 
 and flowers, and flounces look, and crowns, and 
 kingdoms, and sceptres, and specious pretences 
 and masks of virtuous hypocrisy, Mrs. Peacocke ? 
 If novels do nothing else, they sharpen our wits 
 and make us see through people who are any- 
 thing but transparent. I am a mortal foe to 
 shams." 
 
 Mrs. Peacocke sighed as if she would intimate 
 how grieved she was to listen to such sentiments ; 
 but Miss Pegge Bumell, who appeared to have 
 received immunity from all the ways and customs 
 of polite society, seemed only the more exas- 
 perated by her airs of martyrdom, and added 
 fiercely : 
 
 " If you and I were to beat our brains for a 
 twelvemonth we could not indite as much sense 
 as Alwyn Cragg indites in a week. That is my 
 complaint, — novels, now-a-days, are dramatized 
 sermons and tracts put into action, especially with 
 your lady writers. They will preach, they will 
 moralize, they will have their little say on gTeat 
 subjects instead of sticking to their story." 
 
 " As for lady novehsts, I am like the Saturday
 
 104 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Keviewers, I have not common patience with 
 them/' said Mrs. Peacocke. 
 
 " I know one or two that I should like to leave 
 a legacy to/' retorted Miss Pegge Burnell; "I 
 can spare so much from the Society for the 
 Suppression of Fools." 
 
 " Don't you think they might be included under 
 its operations ? " suggested Mrs. Peacocke spite- 
 fully. 
 
 At this point Mrs. Maurice intimated that the 
 twenty minutes' interlude for coffee and biscuits 
 was expired, and that we ought now quietly to 
 resume our needles as became worthy sisters of 
 the Society of Dorcas. On this hint everybody 
 subsided into silence, the missionary book again 
 came into play, and nothing but that was heard 
 any more until the gilt timepiece on the mantel- 
 shelf struck seven, when our entertainer inter- 
 rupted our labours with the, to me, welcome 
 announcement that it was time to close the 
 meeting. On that the person nearest the bell- 
 rang it, and Mr. Foxley was summoned from the 
 study where he had apparently been roasting 
 himself at a very ardent fire ; he read a chapter
 
 A VILLAGE DORCAS MEETING. 105 
 
 and gave a prayer in his usual manner, after 
 whicli the meeting hurriedly dispersed. 
 
 " I am glad I went," said Ursula as we were 
 on our way home ; " though but for that scene 
 with Miss Pegge Burnell I should have been 
 bored to extinction. What an invaluable old 
 woman she is for putting down cant ! But now 
 that I have seen how these meetings are carried 
 on and who attends them, I shall go no more; 
 it is a sheer waste of time, and my forefinger is 
 as rough as a nutmeg-grater with stitching at that 
 odious striped shirt. Here we are at the door, 
 and I hope tea is ready, for I am famished. I 
 could not touch the cofiee for the horrid stable- 
 smeU of that boy who handed it round, but I 
 suppose Mrs. Peacocke must either die or do 
 everything genteelly."
 
 106 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 XL 
 
 VISITING. 
 
 But a short time after the Dorcas Meeting, Mrs. 
 Peacocke seemed likely to win with my sister 
 Ursula the reputation of a person worth knowing ; 
 for one morning while we were at breakfast the 
 objectionable boy came up with a note of invita- 
 tion for that day week — tea, nine o'clock. The 
 long notice and the formal style of the document 
 inspired Ursula with the happy assurance that it 
 would be a " real party " — and she wrote an im- 
 mediate acceptance in the politest terms. 
 
 ^^ Notwithstanding her solemn airs of superior 
 piety that little woman will go down on her 
 knees to anybody with rank or money," said 
 Ursula. " But that is nothing to us if she 
 behaves civilly. I daresay we shall meet all the 
 best people in Redcross there, and so I might as
 
 VISITING. 107 
 
 well make up that new white lisse of mine, for 
 I don't suppose I am likely to have a better occa- 
 sion to wear it this winter." 
 
 And in this joyful anticipation, with Connie's 
 willing assistance, Ursula set to work at once, and 
 I am afraid to say how many yards they ran 
 between them in the making of that pretty dress. 
 But the skirt had six flounces and on every 
 flounce there were five narrow rows of blue velvet 
 and the body was trimmed to correspond; and 
 when it was made and put on, I do not remember 
 ever to have seen Ursula look nicer. She was 
 never either pretty or graceful ; the emphasis of 
 her character, so to speak, enunciated itself in 
 her mien and gait; but when she was dressed 
 well, she looked well — as well as a young woman 
 can do who owes very little to nature but much 
 to careful personal cultivation. She might never 
 have been to a party before from the anxiety 
 with which she speculated upon this one ; and by 
 dint of hearing her talk about it so constantly, 
 I began to feel that it must be a splendid enter- 
 tainment indeed to fulfil her expectations. She 
 laid me under orders to appear in full dress, and
 
 108 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 ruled also that the occasion was worthy of a 
 carriage from Scarcliffe to take us and bring 
 us home again; the usual method of going out 
 to tea at Redcross being with a procession of 
 lanterns. 
 
 All the morning of the momentous day she was 
 busy putting the finishing touches to her new 
 dress, arranging and rearranging the wreath for 
 her hair, and disposing in twenty different styles 
 the ornaments which would be most suitable to 
 be worn with them ; all the afternoon she was 
 similarly employed, and when evening came she 
 could not settle a moment, but would have her 
 bedroom fire lighted and go up to dress at least 
 a couple of hours too soon. When the carriage, 
 however, came to the door and she appeared in 
 the drawing-room to show herself to papa and 
 mamma before we set oflP, papa could not help 
 exclaiming ; 
 
 " Well, Ursie, I will not say your labour is 
 lost ; turn about, my dear ; let us look at you aU^ 
 round," and after a critical examination he pro- 
 nounced her " quite a success." 
 
 " I dressed her, mamma, and does she not look
 
 VISITING. 109 
 
 grand?" cried Connie, who was holding her 
 bouquet while she put on her gloves. 
 
 " Yer J grand," replied mamma appro\'inglT. 
 
 " Quite a work of art," added papa ; and then 
 nurse Bradshaw who was ' standing [in the open 
 door suggested that we were keeping the carriage 
 waiting, and had we not better go ? 
 
 "Yes, I think we had. Doris, are you ready ?" 
 said Ursula, sighing with happy satisfaction; but 
 when she looked roimd and saw me her face 
 changed, and she cried pettishly, ''Your high 
 muslin dress and nothing in your hair ! I do 
 call that disrespectful to Mrs. Peacocke. Mamma, 
 make her go upstairs and put in her pearl pins 
 or something ; she always will try to look unlike 
 everybody else." 
 
 " Nonsense, miss, nonsense ; your sister will do 
 very well," interposed papa. " Get away quickly 
 and shut that door." 
 
 I had to support a little tirade, however, when 
 we got into the carriage, for Ursula did not cease 
 fault-finding and predicting all manner of social 
 disasters that were to result from my disrespectful 
 attire, until we turned up the by-road leading to
 
 no WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 the Peacockes' house. Her thoughts then took 
 another direction, and after a few moments' silence 
 she observed : 
 
 " I don't hear any carriages — do you think we 
 are early ? you always will go so early everywhere, 
 Doris." 
 
 When we stopped at the door there was some 
 delay in opening it, and we could hear the clink 
 of crockery and hasty voices m the hall; but 
 at last a female servant admitted us, took our 
 cloaks, hung them over her arm, and led the 
 way to the drawing-room, saying, as she did so : 
 
 " The company will soon be out of the dining- 
 room, ma'am, — dessert has just gone in." 
 
 She entered with us, lighted two candles on 
 the centre table, murmured something about the 
 fire having got very low — it was nearly out — 
 and then left us to ourselves in the cold, empty 
 room. 
 
 Ursula immediately turned to me and in- 
 quired : 
 
 "Now, Doris, can you tell me what this 
 means ? " 
 
 " It means," replied I, entering fully into her
 
 VISITING. Ill 
 
 indignant disappointment, — " it means that we 
 are asked to come in to tea after a dinner- 
 par tj." 
 
 "It is the most insolent piece of presumption 
 I ever met with in my life, to send a formal invi- 
 tation for an affair like this I I am starved to 
 death — I shall ring for my cloak : " and she rang 
 accordingly, but nobody came, so she took the 
 knitted woollen couvre-pied from the sofa and put 
 that over her shoulders. 
 
 I was shivering too, for the night was bitter 
 cold, but I did not dare stir the starved embers 
 of the fire, because there was nothing for the 
 purpose but a brilliant steel poker, evidently only 
 an honorary member of society. So I walked 
 about the room and inspected a collection of very 
 bad oil-paintings in very gorgeous frames, and 
 then turned over the illustrated amiuals which 
 radiated s}'mmetrically from a flower-vase in the 
 middle of the table like the spokes of a wheel. 
 I was vexed myself because Ursula was vexed, 
 but I said nothing to her, for I saw she had to 
 exercise the utmost self-control to refrain from 
 tears; the pleasantness of her countenance had
 
 112 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 all vanished, and the chiUy atmosphere of the 
 room had made her features look pinched and 
 purple. 
 
 Our first interruption was from an old frowsy- 
 woman who appeared with wood and coals to 
 revive the fire, and about ten minutes after we 
 heard a rustling of dresses, low voices and laughter, 
 and in came Miss Pegge Burnell, Mrs. Maurice, 
 Mrs. Willoughby, Miss Theodora Bousfield, and 
 Mrs. Peacocke. Our hostess came up to us, quite 
 flushed and jubilant : — 
 
 " I am very glad to see you, so very glad to see 
 you," said she impressively, and then left us to 
 rejoin Mrs. Willoughby, whom we recognized as 
 the wife of a half-pay naval officer living at a 
 villa about midway between Scarcliffe and Red- 
 cross. 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell placed herself close by 
 the now kindled fire, and, beckoning me to go to 
 her, she inquired with a significant glance at 
 Ursula ; 
 
 " Did you know what you were coming to ?" 
 
 I told her. No, on which she looked at our 
 entertainer with a pout of scorn and said ;
 
 YISITIN'G. 113 
 
 " She always serves the young people in this 
 way when they will bear it — knocks them off by 
 twos and threes after a dinner-party. She invited 
 the Layels too, but they would not come, and 
 I commend them for it. Your sister is got up 
 quite for a royal affair. She should have kept 
 that pretty dress for my omnium gatherum — it is 
 imcommonly tasteful. But how cold and cross 
 she does look ! This room is never entered 
 except for company, and it is always as cold as 
 a well and uncomfortable as an upholsterer's 
 shop." 
 
 Mrs. Maurice almost yawned as she asked after 
 papa and mamma, and Miss Theodora Bousfield, 
 who had thrown herself into a corner of the couch, 
 looked inexpressibly bored and sleepy, and every- 
 body glanced at the timepiece, to see how long it 
 wanted to ten o'clock. Then the village baker 
 appeared in evening costume and handed roimd 
 delicate little cups of excellent coffee — very dif- 
 ferent to the Dorcas coffee — and while this was 
 in progress of consumption, Mr. Peacocke with 
 four other gentlemen came in from the dining- 
 room. Mr. Peacocke evidently regarded us as a 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 surprise, and seemed to wonder what in tlie world 
 had brouo;ht us there, and after a few words of 
 greeting he went over to his wife for explanation, 
 but she just moved her sharp elbow significantly, 
 as much as to say, "Be quiet now," and sent him 
 away unsatisfied. Mr. Maurice we knew, but 
 the other three gentlemen were strangers to us : 
 no introduction took place, but we heard one with 
 a red face addressed as Captain Willoughby, and 
 a courtly little old gentleman with a suspicion of 
 powder on his hair as Dr. Eden, and a young 
 man with a stately mien and a fastidious mouth 
 as his nephew. Dr. Julius Eden. The two last 
 we knew by sight, because they occupied a seat 
 at church very near om- own, and lived together 
 in a large, antiquated brick house just as we 
 entered Scarcliffe. 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell summoned the old physician 
 to a seat near herself, and Dr. Julius took the 
 vacant place on the couch by Miss Theodora 
 Bousfield, with whom he had an air of confidential 
 intimacy. Then the baker brought round cups 
 of tea, and the disagreeable boy followed in his 
 track with a cake-basket of biscuits, both of which
 
 VISITING. 115 
 
 Ursula dismissed as she had previously dismissed 
 the coffee Tvith a stern, *• No, thank jou ! " The 
 people who had dined looked serene, and warm 
 and sleepy, but Ursula and I were very shivering. 
 I think disappointment gives a physical sensation 
 of chill as well as a mental one — and it was a 
 rehef to me when Miss Pegge Bumell's carriage 
 was announced and a period was put to our 
 sufferings. She asked if she could take us home, 
 but Ursula replied loftily that our carriage was 
 ordered to come with the others, and she supposed 
 it would be at the door immediately. 
 
 So we all left the drawing-room in a cluster, 
 Mrs. Peacocke accompanying us ; but as we were 
 delayed about five minutes after the other guests 
 had driven off, we had that interval to enjoy her 
 company all to ourselves. She had the air of 
 thinking we must have been made superlatively 
 happy by her hospitahty ; she admired Ursula's 
 dress, her v^Tcath, her bouquet, and the necklace 
 of mamma's she wore ; but Ursula refused to be 
 propitiated, and having endured this stroking down 
 in silence as long as she could, she said shortly 
 and sharply : 
 
 8—2
 
 116 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 " Mrs. Peacocke^ if ever you invite any of us 
 again, will you be so good as to warn us what 
 sort of an entertainment to expect ? It is not worth 
 while dressing and hiring a carriage from Scar- 
 cliffe to go out to tea at nine o'clock after a dinner- 
 party." 
 
 Mrs. Peacocke laughed and replied : 
 
 " Oh, my dear, I thought you would be grateful 
 for any little amusement." 
 
 "Not at all, Mrs. Peacocke," replied Ursula 
 with dignity. 
 
 Our hostess did not appear in the least affronted, 
 she wished us good-night affectionately, sent her 
 kindest regards to papa and mamma, and only 
 spoke of Ursula afterwards as a young person of 
 " rather peculiar manners." 
 
 Of course, they were all surprised at home to 
 see us back so soon. 
 
 " You have not been an hour out of the house ! " 
 cried nurse Bradshaw. 
 
 " You have paid too dear for your whistle this 
 time," said papa. 
 
 "Never mind, my love," whispered mamma, 
 and she w^ent away upstairs with Ursula, who,
 
 VISITING. 117 
 
 now that all necessar}^ restraint was removed, had 
 fairly burst out crying. Connie was sympatheti- 
 cally indignant and nurse Bradshaw's opinion of 
 Mr. Peacocke's professional skill was henceforth 
 unreasonably but irretrievably blighted.
 
 118 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 XII. 
 
 PLANS AND AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 " After tlie very delightful specimen of Redcross 
 sociability which we had last night, I don't care if 
 I never taste anybody's salt again in the whole 
 place," my sister Ursula announced while we were 
 sitting at breakfast the following morning. 
 
 I said that now it was over I could not help 
 feeling how ridiculous the little scene was when 
 we were shown into the starved and empty 
 drawing-room, and all our brilliant expectations 
 sank to zero. 
 
 '' I do not perceive that the probability of our 
 being laughed at improves the matter; and, of 
 course, everybody could see with half an eye 
 that we were disappointed," replied Ursula. 
 
 "You must not expect to be invited to dinner-
 
 PLANS AXD AiIUSE:MEXTS. 119 
 
 parties, Ursie," papa assured her ; '* young women 
 are not worth dinner-parties." 
 
 " I don't expect to be invited to dinner-parties, 
 papa," she answered tartly ; *• but I think it is a 
 great piece of impertinence when a lackered little 
 body, like Mrs. Peacocke, presents her best com- 
 pliments and formally requests the pleasure of 
 any one's company, at a week's date, to sit in an 
 ice-house from nine o'clock at night till ten, and 
 partake of a biscuit and cup of cold tea in the 
 presence of a group of people who have just 
 risen, serene and satisfied, from a capital dinner." 
 
 Mamma added that she thought it was very 
 inconsiderate of ]\Ii's. Peacocke, who was under 
 no obligation to invite us at all, but she advised 
 us to dismiss the subject from our minds, since 
 it was of no use to chafe about what was past 
 redress. 
 
 Whatever had been Ursula's expectations in 
 connection with this entertainment, they appeared 
 now to have vanished utterly. She and I had a 
 long private, serious conversation that day about 
 the propriety and expedience of her taking a 
 situation ; and her views on the matter were by
 
 120 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 no means unreasonable. She was a person of 
 great physical energy and an almost restless 
 mental activity; she found no congenial friends 
 and no sufficient occupation about her, and she 
 began to feel inexpressibly bored and wearied in 
 our narrow home-circle; a wider and more 
 important sphere was, she assured me, becoming 
 a necessity of her nature. 
 
 ^^I am not afraid of work if the work be to 
 my taste," said she. "I am sure I could teach 
 thoroughly what I know, and I believe I could 
 make a governess-life, which some women rave 
 about as so intolerable, very comfortable indeed. 
 Of course I should not allow myself to be 
 trodden down as such poor-spirited creatures are, 
 and, in the end, I have no doubt I should get 
 on admirably." 
 
 " It must be a dull existence at the best, 
 Ursie, and one of monotonous restraint," I told 
 her. "It would be very wearing to your mind 
 to be always pinned down to the level of young 
 children — and you are not fond of them either." 
 
 "No, I do not like children, but I can keep 
 them in order," she admitted. "My chief diffi-
 
 PLANS A2sD AMUSE^IEXTS. 121 
 
 culty is about papa and mamma ; how tliey would 
 like mj going out? Thej never say a word 
 when I allude to it." 
 
 " But there can be no two opinions as to what 
 they feel; they cannot bear the idea," I assured 
 her. " They do not see that there is any necessity 
 for itj but, at the same time, if you are bent on the 
 experiment, I do not think they will gainsay you." 
 
 " That is what it must come to," she replied. 
 " You are fortunately provided for, but were 
 anything to happen to papa and mamma, Connie 
 and I would be left Hterally destitute.'* 
 
 "You may be sure, Ursie, that whatever I 
 possessed would be shared with both of you," I 
 told her. 
 
 " I don't know ; it might not be in your power. 
 For instance, if you were to marry " 
 
 "You may put that obstacle out of your cal- 
 culations ; I never shaU marry," said I ; " but I 
 hope you and Connie will." 
 
 " It is not probable that / shall now. I have 
 no fortune and I am no beauty, and I am not 
 likely to meet with anybody in a place like this 
 to take a fancy to my usefulness. Connie may
 
 122 ■ WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 fare better — one can see that by and by she will 
 be perfectly handsome, and she always was a pet 
 with gentlemen ever since she wore bare legs and 
 a bunch of blue sash round her waist. It is as 
 well to be candid with oneself now and then, and 
 to look at one's prospects all round — and when 
 I spread out my hand of cards, I see plainly 
 inscribed thereon spinsterdom and governesshood." 
 
 " I don't like to hear you say that, Ursie ; you 
 are so young yet — who knows ? " said I, thinking 
 a vague hope better than none. 
 
 " I do not see the necessity for marrying in 
 the light that some women do," she replied. " If 
 I may work and be independent, and take a 
 respectable position at the same time, I can stand 
 very well by myself. Nobody will catch me 
 drivelling and whining — if I may not be happy 
 in one way I will in another." 
 
 ^^But the happiest way to be happy is to be 
 happily married," said I. " I know I should have 
 preferred it had Philip Massey lived." 
 
 " Of course you would. There is no question 
 in which position a woman has the most honour 
 and influence ; but I have met with no Philip
 
 PLANS AND Ai^IUSEMENTS. 123 
 
 Massey, as you very well know, and I am not 
 disposed to wait sentimentally for tlie chance of 
 his coming, with idle hands in my lap, when I 
 might be working to a purpose and putting a 
 little spirit into the Hfe which it is much more 
 probable I shall have to lead. There are three 
 times as many women in the comitry as there 
 are men, so it is nonsense for all to ex]^)ect to 
 marry." 
 
 '' I am not statistical, Ursie," repHed I ; ^' but 
 I think you make out too bad a case for yourself." 
 
 " Look at Miss Theodora Bousfield — ^her position 
 is good enoucrh and she hves bv criyino; sincrinp; 
 lessons — or at the Miss Layels; we are told 
 they are entirely dependent on themselves — all 
 three working, educated women. I should like 
 their independence better than my own quiet, 
 useless life at home. As governesses go, I dare- 
 say I might get a salary of eighty guineas a year." 
 
 " You would be very fortunate if you did. 
 Such salaries are by no means com.mon," said 
 I ; " especially at first going out." 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I should not like to take 
 less. However, as you all seem so much against
 
 124 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 it, I will wait until spring and see what the next 
 three months bring forth. I anticipate nothing, 
 but I do not wish to take an important step in 
 haste to repent it at leisure under the imputation 
 of having only my own rashness to blame." 
 
 When Ursula was reasonable she was very 
 reasonable; and these seasons I had always ob- 
 served to follow upon some personal humiliation 
 which, for the time being, had put down her 
 rather self-sufficient temper and compelled her 
 to view her merits and her pretensions by the 
 light of truth. The process was disagreeable to 
 go through undoubtedly, but it was so far salu- 
 tary in this, that it checked her perversity and 
 spirit of domineering, and made her, as Miss 
 Heywood used to phrase it, find her own level. 
 The mortification and disappointment in connec- 
 tion with Mrs. Peacocke's party, while it abated 
 her expectations, did more to reconcile her to our 
 reduced fortunes than anything that had happened 
 since we left Roseberry. She gave up harping 
 on what we might have been and on what we 
 had lost, and in ceasing to enforce a respect due 
 to an imaginary dignity, she became almost digni-
 
 PLANS A^T) AMUSEMENTS. 125 
 
 fied. I could not enter into all her views and 
 feelings myself; we were natui*al]y of quite oppo- 
 site characters ; but I began to have more sym- 
 pathy with her revolt against inaction, and to 
 hope that something would occur to employ her 
 superfluous energies, to her own profit and our 
 peace at home, before many more months went 
 over our heads. 
 
 The monotony of our daily lives, which fretted 
 her so grievously, was acceptable to me. I always 
 had something to do at home, and whether I 
 would or no, Mrs. Maurice had enlisted me in 
 her stafi" of parish assistants. She had placed 
 me in charge of a class of big boys at the school, 
 she sent me to read to select old women, and 
 she claimed my special help in cutting out and 
 making ready the work before each meeting of 
 the Dorcas Society. I was new to these duties, 
 and, at first, I did not hke them, but in process of 
 time I found my interest in them all, and a far 
 higher amount of pleasure and satisfaction than 
 I could have supposed they would yield before 
 I tried them. But, as Ursula said, I had no 
 originality, and if thrust mto a groove which
 
 126 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 was rough to begin with, I was apt to plod up 
 and down in it until I had worn its inequalities 
 smooth and got so used to it that it would be 
 pain and grief to me to be set in a less familiar 
 way. In which she was not far wrong. I grew 
 old early, and I seem ever since to have been 
 learning the philosophy of putting up with things 
 that I could not put off. 
 
 Connie's chief pleasure and amusement con- 
 sisted in long walking expeditions everywhere 
 over the country, in which I was most frequently 
 her companion. I recollect her leading me a 
 pretty dance across the downs one brisk December 
 day, during which we lost ourselves and were over- 
 taken by the early falling darkness before we could 
 reach home again. There had been nearly a 
 fortnight's frost, and the down-tracks were clean 
 and hard as flint, but after an hour's walking 
 in quite an unfamiliar direction they merged in 
 a confused mass of furze-bushes and faded heather, 
 with here and there a tree, warped and distorted 
 by the fierce winds, stretching its ragged arms 
 against the cold cloudy blue of the sky. 
 
 " What fun it would be to lose ourselves,"
 
 PLANS AKD AMUSEMENTS. 127 
 
 cried Connie ; " I don't think we ever were lost, 
 Doris ! " 
 
 " It would not be very difficult to do/' I 
 replied, stopping and looking round the horizon. 
 "For example, if we saw a snow-storm coming 
 on now, which way should we take as the shortest 
 to find shelter?" 
 
 Connie demurred to the question — she really 
 did not know. 
 
 Neither did I ; we were quite out of sight of 
 all familiar places, but I suspected that the 
 shoulder of St. Cross hid them, so I proposed 
 that we should go down to a certain point and 
 take an observation. We liked making rounds — 
 if we had chosen to return by the way we had 
 come, it would have been easy to retrace our 
 steps, but that was not our object — it was plea- 
 sant to find out beautiful new walks and to 
 announce the same when we amved at home 
 tired. My suggestion was accordingly followed, 
 but when the point was reached we only looked 
 down on the steep ribbed side of a chalky cliff 
 tufted with scant grass ; at the bottom was a 
 scrubby wood, then two narrow fields ending in
 
 128 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 a sharp ridge, and far below the open sea. We 
 had got beyond and above Avonmore Head, 
 behind which lay Scarcliffe Bay, Scarcliffe, and 
 Redcross, and a high road we supposed there 
 must certainly be, though from our present posi- 
 tion we could see nothing of it." 
 
 " As we don't kfiow where we are, we may 
 consider ourselves really lost," said ^Connie ex- 
 hilarated. 
 
 " Yes ; if it be a pleasurable sensation," replied 
 I ; " but, for my part, I begin to think this grim 
 north-easter, which we shall have full in our teeth 
 in returning, just a little drawback to the charms 
 of the situation." 
 
 " Oh ! I love the wind," and Connie stretched 
 out her arms as if to embrace it. 
 
 " Come," said I, " your enthusiasm may keep 
 you warm, but it whistles through me as if I 
 were a skeleton ! " 
 
 '^ Let us take a run ! I'll race you back to 
 the last gate we came through." 
 
 Connie took an mifair start and beat, of course, 
 but the rapid exercise counteracted the effect of the 
 north-easter and put us both in a glow. It was very
 
 PLANS AND AMUSEMENTS. 129 
 
 good to come out with Connie ; it made the blood 
 run faster and swept the cobwebs out of mj 
 brains ; but I thought it was now time to make 
 the best of our way home ; for, as the crow flies, 
 we must then have been fall fom^ miles away, 
 and it was past thi-ee o'clock of the afternoon. 
 
 So we set our faces towards Redcross, but 
 in attempting a short cut we soon came to a 
 standstill amongst a tangle of tracks in the ling 
 and were quite undecided which to take. After 
 looking round and looking at the sky interroga- 
 tively for some minutes, Connie espied a white curl 
 of smoke rising above a ridge of the down only 
 a short way off, and proposed that we should 
 run across to the dwelling it betrayed to inquire 
 of our whereabouts. We forced our way accord- 
 ino-ly throuD-h cline-ino; bushes till we came to 
 a ragged thorn hedge and a stile ; beneath was 
 an unkempt vegetable garden, sloping down the 
 steep, and, quite in the hollow, fronting to the 
 south, was a thatched cottage. 
 
 " Pretty little nook I " cried Connie, " but who 
 would have thought of any one Hving in an 
 out-of-the-way place like this ! " 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 The winterly sunshine was yellowing the 
 cottage wall where a dark bushy myrtle grew 
 up with a few deep crimson buds of a late rose 
 peeping out from its thick verdure. As we 
 approached nearer, we saw that the garden round 
 about it was more carefully tended and that it 
 had an air of comfort and occupation. The 
 sound of our steps and voices brought to the 
 door an elderly woman dressed in mourning 
 with some plain needlework in her hand ; she 
 came a pace or two out to meet us, with a look 
 of disturbed inquiry on her face, and I immedi- 
 ately stated how we had lost our way and wished 
 to be put in the road for getting back to Redcross. 
 She turned her head to the lattice window, which 
 was standing open, and said to some one within, — 
 
 " Paul, my dear, will you put these strangers 
 into the way of getting back to Redcross ? " 
 Glancing in the same direction I saw a low- 
 ceiled room shelved round with books, and a 
 man seated at a table writiftg ; he rose as his 
 mother appealed to him, and came to the door 
 with his pen in his hand. He did not look at 
 us, but pointing down a rough lane from the
 
 PLANS AND AMUSEilEXTS. 131 
 
 garden-gate, told us hastily that we must follow 
 its windings until we came to another gate, which 
 would bring us into the high road about three 
 miles and a half from Redcross, and was at 
 once returning to his work, when his mother 
 suggested aside that the gate would be locked. 
 
 Connie exclaimed, — 
 
 '*' Oh, we can climb over the gate, thank you ! " 
 but with a few hasty words about its not beino- 
 an easy gate for ladies to chmb, he snatched up 
 a key from the window-sill, came out, and led 
 the way down the lane. I said I was extremely 
 sorry to give him the trouble, but he took no 
 notice and marched on in advance, his uncovered, 
 grizzled hair fluttering in the wind, and his 
 long lean limbs swinging in a swift easy gait. 
 It taxed even Connie to keep up with him, and 
 by the time he reached the gate we had fallen 
 some way behind. He was waiting with it open 
 when we came up and merely bowing his head 
 in acknowledgment' of our thanks, locked it 
 behind us, and turned back to the cottage. 
 
 " I have seen that man somewhere before," 
 said Connie as we both put our best foot fore- 
 
 9—2
 
 132 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 most on tlie hard frozen road. I thought I had 
 seen him too, or somebody exceedingly hke him, 
 but neither of us could remember where ; only 
 we agreed that the house in the hollow was a 
 queer place for him to be living in unless he 
 were poet, philosopher or hermit, or all three 
 combined. 
 
 Walking our swiftest we did not reach home 
 until nearly an hour after dark, and only just 
 in time to escape a heavy fall of snow, so we 
 had to listen to lectures from all parties and to 
 promise to take no more rambles of the kind, 
 until lengthening days gave us more time to lose 
 and find ourselves aojain.
 
 133 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A MOENDsG AT THE PEIORY. 
 
 Embalmed between the leaves of my old Thought- 
 Book, I have a few curiosities of literature which 
 serve as notes to the brief entries in tlie text. Of 
 this date I find a quaint little epistle of Miss 
 Pegge Burnell's, written on pink satin notepaper, 
 and still exhaling the delicate perfume which 
 always reminds me of her. It was addressed to 
 aU of us and says, much like an echo of her own 
 deep voice speaking, "I make no calls in this 
 weather, girls, but I want to see you. "When it 
 is warmer I shall pay your father and mother a 
 visit to talk about Roseberry. I remember that 
 place when I was young, for I spent some of the 
 happiest days of my life there. If they will waive 
 ceremony with an old woman, all whose bones 
 are fuU of tooth-ache while this east wind blows.
 
 134 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and come np to see lier, she will be delighted. 
 I prefer receiving visitors at lunch time, when 
 the}^ can eat or let it alone as it suits them — that is, 
 between twelve and two ; if they come earlier I 
 am not downstairs — if they come later it interferes 
 with my drive. Mind the pretty one is of the 
 party. Yours sincerely, Cecilia Pegge Burnell." 
 This document was answered in person by 
 papa, mamma, and the pretty one walking up to 
 the Priory the following day. Papa returned 
 charmed with the old lady and all her surround- 
 ings, and from Connie's account she must have 
 made herself truly delightful. She had given 
 them a description of Roseberry as she recollected 
 it in the time of Admiral Villers, and had asked 
 a thousand and one questions about the improve- 
 ments and alterations papa had made while it 
 was in his possession; she was curious to learn 
 whether such and such walks in the gardens 
 remained as they were formerly, and whether 
 certain trees were standing of which she had a 
 distinct remembrance. Mamma fancied she must 
 have some sentimental interest in the place from 
 the vividness with which she recalled its minutest
 
 A MORXIXG AT THE PRIORY. 135 
 
 features. She wanted to know if the front door 
 steps were jet in a semicircle and worn very 
 hoUow in the middle; and when papa told her, 
 no, he had had them renewed on first going there, 
 she said, "And not before thej required it. 
 The edge of the second step was quite worn 
 awaj ; but Admiral Villers was a stingy old hunks, 
 and every man, woman and child in the kingdom 
 might have broken their bones before he would 
 have spent sixpence to mend it." In telling 
 Ursula and myself what had passed, Connie 
 added of her own opinion, " I do not believe the 
 poor old lady was born so deformed as she is, 
 neither does mamma. We think it must have been 
 the result of some accident that happened, perhaps, 
 at Roseberry. " 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell had sent a request that 
 Ursula, Connie and I would go up and visit her 
 at her favourite hour, the day but one after, and 
 as we could all be spared we went accordingly. 
 She, however, had had a very bad night and was 
 not yet out of her room, so she sent a message to 
 us to perambulate the grounds for half an hour, 
 at the end of which time she would be ready
 
 136 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 to receive us ; but on no account were we to go 
 away. 
 
 We gladly availed ourselves of the permissioUa 
 and deep winter though it was, the sunshine upon 
 the down side was so clear and the evergreens 
 were so beautiful, that when we came round upon 
 the south terrace beneath the windows of the 
 principal rooms, we might have imagined that 
 spring had arrived there already. The Priory 
 was a solidly built, irregular old place, over the 
 grey, time-fretted stones of which no ivy or other 
 covering had been permitted to grow; but close 
 under the wall there was a narrow border running 
 the whole length of the house, the delicious wafts 
 of perfume from which betrayed the whereabouts 
 of innumerable violets. This terrace commanded 
 a glorious prospect ; from thence we could over- 
 look the village and the lovely meadows which 
 then bordered the road down to Scarcliffe; we 
 could trace the daily-growing new town and the 
 crowded roofs of the old one; we could descry 
 the dotted figures on the pier, the ships in the 
 harbour and the whole arc of the beautiful bay, 
 with the Castle high perched on the frowning
 
 A MOEXIXG AT THE PRIOEY. 137 
 
 North Cliff. Redcross itself was a bowery little 
 spot, with its very ancient church and nest of 
 humble thatched cottages, which no speculative 
 builder had jet been permitted to buy up; and 
 the park extending behind it to the verge of the 
 cliffs was grouped over with magnificent timber 
 trees, while a hanging fir wood on the lower slope 
 of the down formed a dark background to the 
 long grey front of the house. The gardens were 
 formed on three terraces and though they were 
 now bare of flowers, the turf was so green and 
 velvety and the choice shrubs were planted to so 
 good an effect, that no air of winterly desolation 
 and decay in the foreground marred the soft 
 loveliness of the scene. 
 
 We had scarcely completed our smwey when 
 we were summoned to enter the house by an 
 intimation that Miss Pegge Burnell was now 
 come do^Ti stairs and was ready to receive us. 
 When we appeared she immediately said in a 
 voice of querulous suffering, "Ghrls, I don't 
 apologize — all my friends have consented to take 
 me by chance just as I happen to be, and I hope 
 you will do the same. To-day I happen to be
 
 138 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 very bad, and that is worse for me than for 
 you." 
 
 She would not, however, listen to any con- 
 dolences or inquiries, and in answer to our 
 proposal to leave her, she said, — 
 
 "If you want to vex me past my patience 
 you can go. I like young people, but it is 
 not all of them who can put up with me, I 
 know. It gives me pleasure and takes my 
 thoughts away from myself, to see happy faces 
 about me, and I am much obliged to you for 
 coming ; but if you don't like it, don't stay." 
 
 So, of course, we stayed, and in talking of 
 various things — pictures, books and events that 
 were happening in the world, she did, indeed, 
 appear to lose the paramount sense of her own 
 pain. My sister Ursula was excellent company 
 for such an occasion. She was a diligent student 
 of The Times, she read new books and reviews 
 systematically for the purpose of getting up 
 subjects of conversation ; she made the best of 
 every one of her talents ; she had opinions and 
 maintained them; she talked with emphasis and 
 rarely talked nonsense; and she was now able
 
 A MORNING AT THE PRIORY. 139 
 
 to give i\Iiss Pegge Burnell a summan^ of 
 general intelligence in which no London corre- 
 spondent could have beaten her. Connie's place 
 and mine was that of submissive listeners ; Ursula 
 had elected herself to be the clever one of our 
 family, a dignity which no one disputed, and 
 when she spoke we held our peace. 
 
 She had great manual dexterity; she could 
 read French, German and Itahan, and was well 
 up in such literature as is supplied by language 
 masters to their pupils ; she di'ew — that is to 
 say, she copied ; she played on the piano, but in 
 a hard, fighting, unsentimental way, ver\' trying 
 to listen to if she went on with the exercise long ; 
 and on every one of her accomplishments she 
 had her views, which no modest diffidence vrith- 
 held her from enunciating in any company. 
 
 Once or twice I thought ]Miss Pegge BurneU 
 answered her with covert irony, but Ursula did 
 not appear conscious of it, and she looked 
 immensely flattered when the poor old lady said — 
 
 '^I should like you for my companion. Miss 
 Ursula, if you had a lighter foot, and did not 
 always shut doors with a clap." Ursula wanted
 
 140 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 to know how Miss Pegge Burnell could have 
 discovered that she clapped doors. *'I reason 
 by analogy, my dear," was the answer; "when 
 I see a young woman who shakes the room as 
 she walks across it, I am morally certain that 
 she will either clap the door or leave it standing 
 wide open." 
 
 " How observant you must be ! " cried Ursula ; 
 " that is what I always do." 
 
 I do not remember ever to have seen a more 
 luxurious picture of wealthy spinsterhood than 
 that offered to our admiration in the Priory draw- 
 ing-room. It was grave and quiet, but it had 
 an aspect of generous warmth and amplitude 
 which, from the first time of my entering it, 
 became inseparable in my mind, from its owner's 
 personality. It was long and lofty, and lined 
 with polished oak panels, in each division of 
 which hung a fine picture. Three deeply sunken, 
 narrow high windows broke the south side of 
 the room looking upon the terrace ; the fire- ^ 
 place was opposite the centre one, and had an 
 elaborate and grotesquely carved chimney-piece, 
 over which was an arched window commanding
 
 A MOENIXG AT THE PRIORY. 141 
 
 a lovely peep of the downs ; the west end of the 
 room was circular, and formed an immense bay 
 opening into the conservatory. Disregarding the 
 common light and airy character of a drawing- 
 room, Miss Pegge Burnell had had carved book- 
 cases, dark like the panelling, fitted between the 
 windows and in the recesses on each side of the 
 fire-place. The floor was covered with a crimson 
 carpet, woven in one piece ; starred with amber 
 and bordered with a rich design of hhes and 
 leaves. The draperies were also of crimson, 
 with filmy inner white curtains drawn close over 
 the glass, and i^he chairs and couches seemed to 
 have been made with a view to accommodating 
 every angularity of the human frame. A pleasant 
 fire of pine- wood was flashing in the burnished 
 grate, and along the hearth was drowsily extended 
 a gigantic deer-hound, w^hose present benevolent 
 amusement was to make lazy curves with his 
 tail for the amusement of a fussy white Persian 
 kitten. 
 
 Ursula testified the strongest appreciation of 
 all this taste and comfort; she asked leave to 
 walk round and examine the pictures, and when
 
 142 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 her inspection was over she exclaimed rap- 
 turously, — 
 
 " It is the perfection of a room ! Oh, Miss 
 Pegge Burnell, what money can do ! " 
 
 The old lady looked at her and replied with 
 a sort of quiet vehemence, — 
 
 " I remember the time, my dear, when I would 
 have given up all I possessed, and have promised 
 to walk through the world barefoot for the rest 
 of my days, if I could have arisen and been 
 whole." 
 
 " I meant, of course, in providing the material 
 luxuries and comforts of life," said Ursula, apo- 
 logetically. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I understood you," answered Miss 
 Pegge Burnell; '^ you are fond of what money will 
 purchase. Now sometimes, when I lie writhing 
 in the midst of all these signs and appliances of 
 fortune which you covet, unable to find a 
 moment's rest for my grievous aches and pains, 
 I am ready to cry aloud that God mocks 
 me." 
 
 Connie impulsively laid her hand upon one 
 of the poor old lady's, who added with a half
 
 A MOKNING AT THE PEIORY. 143 
 
 carelesg sigh as she quietly possessed herself 
 of it,— 
 
 " You see, pretty one, I never was a woman 
 of a devotional turn of mind — but now let us 
 have the bell rung for luncheon, and change the 
 subject." 
 
 The summons was responded to by two footmen 
 setting wide the folding-doors which communi- 
 cated with another room, and wheeling in, swiftly 
 and smoothly, a circular table on which the 
 luncheon was aheady spread. They brought 
 it to an anchor opposite the fire-place, and ]\Iiss 
 Pegge Burnell, glancing significantly at Ursula, 
 said, — 
 
 "The Priory will make up forty beds, iVliss 
 Ursula, but I live habitually in two rooms," and 
 then she signed to us to draw round the table, 
 placing Connie next to herself. 
 
 She was much pleasanter in her own house 
 than she was elsewhere, this singular old lady, 
 and her conversation showed that she was an 
 omnivorous reader, and that she possessed a 
 capacious and retentive memory. While Ursula 
 was displaying her accomplishments and laying
 
 144 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 down the law upon ancient and modern, and 
 English and foreign literature, she had said no 
 word that betrayed her own more varied and 
 extensive knowledge, but it now began to crop 
 out in chance observations, until Ursula, with 
 her usual want of tact, exclaimed, — 
 
 '^ I had no idea you were a linguist as well as 
 myself, Miss Pegge Burnell ! " 
 
 " How should you, my dear ? you were so 
 good as to take my ignorance for granted," 
 replied the old lady, drily. "But all through, 
 the prime of my life I had nothing else to do 
 but to make friends of my books. For more 
 than six years I never set foot to the ground, 
 and to have chattering, sympathetic people 
 dangling round my sofa worried me to death. 
 So I set up a big dog and a little cat and a 
 reading-desk, none of which talk or wear rust- 
 ling petticoats, and since then I have contrived 
 to read most of the books you talk about." 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell afterwards showed Ursula 
 the table-racks containing some of her favourite 
 volumes, over which my sister exclaimed enthu- 
 siastically how beautifully they were bound.
 
 A M0ENI2sG AT THE PRIORY. ]45 
 
 " I like good books in handsome dress," replied 
 their owner. 
 
 Ursula then scanned their titles and observed, 
 
 "Kather a queer medley — Bishop Andi'ewe's 
 Devotions, Sintram, Rochefoucault's Maximes, 
 Les Provinciales de Pascal, Petrarch's Sonnets, 
 "Wordsworth's Poems, Wilhelm Meister, In Memo- 
 riam. Archbishop Leighton's Commentary on St. 
 Peter, and Shakspeare's Plays next to the Bible." 
 
 *^ After the Bible, Shakspeare's plays contain 
 more sound philosophy and practical wisdom than 
 any book I ever read," interposed Miss Pegge 
 Burnell, cutting short the catalogue. "And if 
 any of you want a volume for Sundays and 
 Saint-days, try Leighton — there is no cant,^bigotry 
 or uncharitableness about him — nothing offensive 
 to the most fastidious taste — it is one of the very 
 few rehgious works that I can bear to read." 
 
 " It is a pet book of mamma's," said Connie. 
 
 " I can always tell whether new acquaintance 
 will suit me by asking what sort of reading they 
 prefer," remarked Ursula. 
 
 " It is not a bad criterion. Perhaps you would 
 like to inspect my month's supply from town 
 
 YOL. I. 10
 
 146 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 as well as my accustomed friends — there they 
 lie on that table/' and Miss Pegge Burnell pointed 
 to one that stood by her couch and swung round 
 on a pivot at the least pressure. 
 
 Ursula eagerly profited by the permission, and 
 taking up the volumes one after another read 
 out their names ; " Les Causeries du Lundi, by 
 Mons. de St. Beuve — I never heard of that work 
 before — is it good ? " 
 
 " Good for those who like it — I do," was the 
 reply. " Jhe style is perfection and the subjects 
 are almost always entertaining. St. Beuve gives 
 a more vivid and life-like portrait within the 
 compass of fifty pages than most other biogra- 
 phers succeed in elaborating in a thousand." 
 
 "And here is a review which I have never 
 seen before," continued Ursula ; " Mrs. Peacocke 
 Hkened herself to its writers in her lack of patience 
 with lady-novelists." 
 
 " Did she ? the resemblance begins and ends 
 there, I should imagine. They are favourites 
 of mine, hard as they are on women. On political 
 affairs their tone is noble, and above all mean 
 truckling to expediencies ; on social matters they
 
 A MORNTXG AT THE PRIORY. 147 
 
 deify Good Taste as supreme ; but occasionally a 
 spirit of spite, personality and superciliousness 
 infuses an agreeable bitter into their pages which 
 I do not find elsewhere, and which I confess I 
 relish to the full as much as their scholarship, 
 gentlemanhood and independence. But then my 
 neighbours say I am a wicked, worldly old 
 woman, so I may enjoy a httle wickedness and 
 worldhness without any tiresome qualms of con- 
 science." 
 
 Ursula continued her examination. " Vanity 
 Fair — I do like Mr. Thackeray's books, don't 
 you. Miss Pegge Burnell?" said she; ^^Crom- 
 well's Letters and Speeches, Robertson's Sermons, 
 Companions of my Solitude, — shall you read them 
 all ? I don't know how and when you can make 
 time — Modem Painters — that looks tough, and 
 a common three volume novel. What is it about? 
 all love and stuff I suppose. I never read any 
 novels myself but the very best that all the 
 world is talking of, for I am quite of Mrs. Pea 
 cocke's opinion in thinking that no^el-reading 
 produces a frivolous turn of mind." 
 
 " No one can accuse you of frivoKty, Miss 
 
 10—2
 
 148 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 UrsuW said Miss Pegge Burnell; "I should 
 say you were more liable to become top-heavy 
 witli a weight of useful information superficially 
 digested — you must not be olBfended at my plain 
 speaking." 
 
 But Ursula looked mightily offended, her 
 colour rose and she said loftily: *'I am sure I 
 am not superficial, though I may not have read 
 so much as some persons." 
 
 ^^If by some persons you mean myself, my 
 dear, I do not lay claim to any superiority, I 
 assure you," returned Miss Pegge Burnell, look- 
 ing slightly surprised. "At best, my mind is 
 only an intellectual rag-bag, filled with shreds 
 and patches of various hues and textures,' which 
 I have picked up and stored in my wallet as 
 other mendicants do who have no riches of their 
 own ; and, of course, I like now and then to show 
 my miscellaneous treasures. But a truce to 
 books ! let us talk about my party, which I 
 intend to give as soon as I have got over this 
 bad bout. Christmas is passing and I have done 
 nothing yet to please the young folks who do so 
 much to please me. You shall have a dance in
 
 A MORNING xVT THE PEIORY. 149 
 
 the picture-gallery, and I will make it worth 
 jour while to wear your prettiest dresses." 
 
 Ursula's countenance relaxed and she entered 
 into the subject with the liveliest gusto, amusing 
 Miss Pegge Burneil greatly by her incisive 
 remarks on the hospitahty which we had thus 
 far been invited to enjoy. Ursula, with all her 
 sagacity, was wonderfully indiscreet on occasion, 
 and before our visit came to an end, there was 
 no single person who had shown us what was 
 meant for kindness, who had not suffered more 
 or less smartly under the lash of her tongue. 
 Miss Pegge Burneil encouraged her, but when 
 we were taking our leave she said with sly 
 sarcasm : '- You have been very candid in 
 pulling off your mask so completely. Miss 
 Ursula; I shall never allow you to put it on 
 again before me, therefore mind what you are 
 about. Good-day to you, my dears; you have 
 been excellent company, and I shall hope to 
 see some of you again before the week is 
 out." 
 
 I fancy Ursula was disagreeably conscious that 
 she had let her tongue outrun her discretion, for
 
 150 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 as we were crossing the Grove Fields on our 
 return home, she asked me if I thought Miss 
 Pegge Burnell was to be trusted. I told her I 
 thouofht she was to be trusted in so far as not 
 repeating severe remarks went, but that I did 
 not think her confidence in the maker of them 
 was likely to be enhanced — for it was noticeable 
 that she had neither echoed nor dissented from 
 them, and that she had not expressed one senti- 
 ment of her own throughout the conversation 
 which could by any possibility be carried else- 
 where, and misrepresented or exaggerated. 
 
 " You mean that I may trust Miss Pegge 
 Burnell, but that Miss Pegge Bmiiell will not 
 trust me," suggested Ursula, sulkily. 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 ^' Then it is very ill-natured of you to say so ! 
 What did she mean by telling me I had pulled 
 off my mask? I wear no mask. There is not 
 a woman breathing who cares less for other 
 people's good opinion than I do, so long as I 
 keep my own. And surely we may speak what 
 we think — it is sheer hypocrisy to hide one's 
 feelings. I wish there were a little more can-
 
 A MOENIXG AT THE PRIORY. 151 
 
 dour than there is in common society ; we should 
 get on much better." 
 
 I could not agree with Ursula : I consider 
 candour a virtue that is all the more precious 
 for not beincT abused and made subservient to 
 splenetic pui'poses. It would be a much more 
 quarrelsome world than it is, if all the ill-natured 
 people in it were to be encouraged to go up and 
 down saying exactly what they think ; and as foi 
 the double-faced candour which she practised to 
 nobody's deception but her own, I could only call 
 it a mischievous trick of the tongue, which she 
 would do wisely to beware of and correct. She 
 got very angry for the moment, but my displeas- 
 ing candour on the subject was not thrown away, 
 for I observed that she became more cautious m 
 future, and much less cutting in her personal 
 criticisms, except when she was in the strict 
 privacy of our home circle.
 
 152 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 XIY. 
 
 MISS PEGGE BURNELL'S PAETY. 
 
 We had not very long to wait and hope for Miss 
 Pegge Burnell's omnium gatherum. The wind 
 changed, her "bad bout" passed by, and the 
 invitations were sent out at the beginning of the 
 following week. Ours arrived while we were at 
 tea, and when it had been handed round for 
 everybody to read, Connie exclaimed with pretty 
 exultation, — 
 
 *^ Oh, I shall enjoy it — there is to be a dance, 
 mamma ! " 
 
 Ursula looked at her with indignant astonish- 
 ment, saying sharply, — 
 
 " But yoit will not go, Connie ! this is a regular 
 ball!" 
 
 Connie's countenance fell, and she glanced 
 appealingly at^papa, who asked, —
 
 aUSS PEGGE EUPvXELL'S PARTY. 153 
 
 "Why cannot tlie little one go, Ursula? Let 
 her have her amusements as well as yourself," 
 
 " She is not out, papa, and she will not be 
 sixteen until next month," rephed Ursula. " I 
 was never allowed to go to a full-dress party 
 until I was seventeen and a half, and I do not see 
 why she should be favoured above 7?z^." 
 
 " But I think Miss Pegge Burnell will expect 
 Connie, my dear," said mamma ; " and in the 
 country at Christmas time rules will bear a little 
 relaxing." 
 
 " I maintain that she ought not to go," reiterated 
 Ursula ; " if she is to come out at fifteen, she will 
 be quite stale and common, while other girls are 
 still in the schoolroom." 
 
 Poor Connie coloured, and the teai's flashed 
 into her eyes as she said, — 
 
 " You are such a do^-in-the-man^-er, Ursula ! " 
 
 "You can be as rude as you please, I don't 
 care," retorted Ursula; "but if you are to be 
 indulged in whatever way you take a fancy to 
 now, you will be quite spoilt with flattery before 
 you have head enough to know what rubbish 
 it is."
 
 15-i WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " cried papa ; " do you suppose you 
 are the only judicious member of the family, that 
 you lay down the law with such emphasis. Miss 
 Ursula? Your mother is the proper person to 
 speak — let her decide." 
 
 " Perhaps, Connie darling, on second thoughts, 
 as mamma cannot go to chaperone her pet, she 
 had better stay at home," said mamma, trying to 
 soften the edge of her hard decree by kind words 
 and caresses, 
 
 Ursula looked provokingly triumphant, wliile 
 Connie tried to conceal her face in her tea-cup, 
 and papa said, patting one of her pretty hands, — 
 
 " Never mind, little one ; mamma knows best." 
 
 "Ursula's objections are perfect nonsense!" I 
 could not help exclaiming at the sight of Connie's 
 disappointment ; to which Ursula replied that if 
 I had my way, I should deny that child nothing, 
 and should ultimately be responsible for her ruin. 
 
 *^I will not have another word on the subject!" 
 cried papa peremptorily. '• Connie acquiesces in 
 what her mother says — don't you, my dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa," replied Connie, in a choking 
 voice ; and by and by, when she and I were alone.
 
 :NnSS PEGGE BURXELL'S PARTY. loo 
 
 she could not restrain a few very natural tears, 
 thougli slie scolded herself for them. 
 
 " I know I am a sillj goose to cry because I 
 may not go to a party/' said she ; " but it is so 
 unkind of Ursie, and this will have been such a 
 dull Christmas." 
 
 However, when the important evening arrived, 
 she made us our winterly bouquets and helped 
 Ursula to dress without showing any ' temper ; 
 only when she came into my room to see if I 
 were ready, I perceived that the disappointment 
 had returned upon her acutely, and that she 
 would have a good cry when we were gone. 
 
 " I shall cpo to bed," said she, and I remembered 
 the time when I should probably have cried too, 
 had I been kept away unnecessarily from a party. 
 
 There was an incessant roll of carriao-es on the 
 road to the Priory, going and returning, the sound 
 of which raised Ursula's spirits to a pitch of the 
 liveliest exhilaration. She was wearing her pretty 
 blue and white dress, and was conscious of looking 
 her very best, so her temper was almost benevo- 
 lent ; but I confess I was vexed with her, and I 
 found it hard to respond in the same tone to her
 
 156 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 cheerful anticipations. She understood the reason 
 well enough, and probably desirous of removing 
 my feelings of dissatisfaction she, by and by, asked 
 me solemnly, appealing to my sense of propriety, 
 whether I did not consider now that it w^as 
 decidedly better Connie should have been left at 
 home ? 
 
 "No," returned I, glad to express my senti- 
 ments, even though they could do no good ; " no — 
 she might just as well have been sitting opposite 
 to us at this moment on the way to enjoy herself, 
 as crying herself to sleep, which I have no doubt 
 she is doing." 
 
 " If she can be such a simpleton, it is a pity 
 she has not something worse to cry for — but 
 here we are at the door ! You may get out first, 
 Doris, and then I shall have a chance of shaking 
 myself down." 
 
 Miss Pegge Burnell received her guests in the 
 drawing-room, from which they dispersed them- 
 selves through the other apartments, which were 
 thrown open for the occasion. We entered be- 
 hind Captain and Mrs. Willoughby and their 
 daughters, and were most cordially welcomed;
 
 MISS PEGGE BUENELL'S PAETY. 157 
 
 but after the handshakincrs and other civilities were 
 over. Miss Pegge Burnell looked beyond us, as if 
 expecting a third person, and demanded with hasty 
 surprise, — 
 
 " But where is the pretty one ?" 
 
 " She is so young, and as this was to be a large 
 party, mamma thought her better at home," re- 
 plied Ursula. 
 
 I never saw a face change so quickly from an 
 expression of courteous inquiry to undissembled 
 wrath, as did Miss Pegge Bumell's. 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " cried she, without circum- 
 locution ; '' your mother is a woman of sense. 
 Miss Doris, how long will it take Connie to dress ? 
 I have a great mind to send for her now." 
 
 " I am afraid your messenger would find her 
 asleep," said Ursula. 
 
 "Answer me plainly — did the child want to 
 come?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Ursula, with visible reluctance. 
 
 '' And you have kept her away ? I daresay she 
 even cried for disappointment — did she ? " The 
 unwilhncr affirmative was mine this time. "If 
 
 o 
 
 she had not, I never would have forgiven her!"
 
 158 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 added the old lady. " Pass on, Miss Ursula, you 
 have destroyed all the pleasure I anticipated in 
 seeing you. It is your fault, I know, though you 
 lay the blame on your mother." 
 
 And we passed on accordingly, to make way 
 for Dr. Eden and his nephew, who had been 
 standing behind us throughout the whole of the 
 foregoing colloquy. Ursula's face did not recover 
 its natural hue during the entire evening; she 
 had flushed crimson, and her sensations of dis- 
 comfort were not lessened by perceiving that Miss 
 Pegge Burnell was making her vexation and the 
 cause of it known to Dr. Eden. 
 
 *' Let us go forward into one of the other 
 rooms, it is so hot here," she whispered to me ; 
 and we went through the folding doors into the 
 library, where card-tables were set out for the 
 elders, and finding Mrs. Peacocke sitting in 
 the middle of the sofa in the highest possible 
 feather, but quite alone, Ursula placed herself 
 beside her, and, in the necessity of making a 
 confidante of somebody, immediately opened her 
 heart to her on the subject of Connie's absence 
 and Miss Pegge Burnell's extraordinary incivility.
 
 I^nSS PEGGE buexell's PAETY. 1o9 
 
 IMrs. Peacocke listened and simpered, but gave 
 no opinion, and by degrees Ursula's chafed feel- 
 ings subsided, until, at last, she was able to affirm 
 that she did not mind what ^liss Pegge Burnell 
 thought. 
 
 " I know I was right to prevent Connie's coming 
 — ^look what a host of people there are here," 
 added she ; " I would do the same thing again 
 to-morrow, if needful. Doris, let us walk on and 
 see if we can discover any more of our friends." 
 
 So we left Mrs. Peacocke in serene state, and 
 entered the long picture-gallery, which had been 
 arranged for dancing, with crimson - covered 
 couches down either side, and waxlights fixed 
 in clusters between the panels, on which hung 
 in grim rows the Pegge Burnell ancestors ; their 
 frames cheerfully festooned for the occasion with 
 Christmas holly. At the upper end there was a 
 temporary orchestra, in which the band of the 
 regiment then stationed in Scarcliffe were busy 
 arrancrincp their music and their instruments for 
 a commencement. Gay groups of ladies, officers in 
 uniform, and black-coated civilians, were scattered 
 up and down in readiness to fall into place and
 
 160 WARP AXD WOOF. 
 
 begin at the first note ; and Ursula whispered 
 to me that she did not think she had ever been 
 at a prettier party, even when we Hved at Rose- 
 berry. Miss Pegge Burnell alv/ays filled the 
 Priory with staying company previous to her 
 omnium gatlierums ; and these, combined with 
 the military and naval men, their wives and 
 daughters, and a large selection from the resident 
 and temporarily resident gentry within five or 
 six miles round, made up altogether a very 
 brilliant assemblage. We saw there, however, 
 for the present, none of our acquaintance but 
 Miss Cranmer, who was sitting with her mother, 
 to whom she introduced us, in a conspicuous seat, 
 waiting, apparently, for a partner. She was glad 
 of some one new to talk to, and in answer to 
 Ursula's remark that there were more people 
 present and still arriving than she fancied the 
 neighbourhood could have brought together, she 
 told us that Miss Pegge Burnell had issued three 
 hundred invitations and had only received thirty 
 excuses. Miss Cranmer spoke in round numbers, 
 but I think she must have made a little over- 
 statement from what I observed myself; but
 
 MISS PEGGE BURNELL'S PxUlTY. 161 
 
 even allowing two-thii'ds for exaggeration, there 
 were still plenty of people to fill the long gallery 
 when they stood up to dance, and to leave, besides, 
 a residuum on the benches, round the card-tables, 
 and in the drawing-room exchanging the news 
 of the world. 
 
 Ursula sat out the first set, not being intro- 
 duced to any partner, but when it was nearly 
 over, to her visible consternation, Mr. Barstow 
 was seen edgmg his way towards us. She tried 
 hard not to appear to observe him,'' but he 
 advanced directly up to her, and bowing pre- 
 posterously, said with an extravagant air of 
 compliment : 
 
 *^ What do I see ? jMiss Ursula Fletcher 
 amongst the wallflowers I May I have the 
 honour of taking; a turn with her when this set 
 
 is over ? " 
 
 Ursula acceded with the worst grace imagi- 
 nable, and said to me aside ; 
 
 "If I refuse to waltz with him I shall have 
 to refuse everybody else all through the evening,** 
 and she actually stood up with him, looking as 
 proud as S emir amis. Miserable moments must 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 the next ten have been, for the Fortuner had 
 no ear, and after bringing her into violent 
 collision with three other pairs, she extricated 
 herself from his clutch, and returned to her seat, 
 saying with angry decision, "Mr. Barstow, you 
 cannot waltz." 
 
 He followed with profuse apologies; he was 
 so sorry, but he never coidd get into step at 
 first starting, passionately fond as he was of 
 rotatory movements ; he was afraid he had 
 torn her dress — he should be only too happy to 
 repair the damage ; he hoped she would try him 
 again, if not in a waltz, at least in a quadrille ; 
 but Ursula pettishly replied that she did not 
 know whether she should dance any more or 
 not ; on which her tormentor said then he would 
 wait and hope. And accordingly he did wait 
 and hope, close at her elbow, until the plea- 
 sure of her hand not having been solicited by 
 any other person, a set of Lancers was formed 
 in which another couple was wanted. Ursula 
 had courage to supply the vacancy with her 
 delightful partner, and they went through the 
 figures, achieving more blunders and causing
 
 MISS PEGGE BUR^^:LL'S PARTY. 163 
 
 more confusion than even those complicated 
 doubles and twists are commonly susceptible of. 
 
 "1 quite pity your sister to be made such a 
 spectacle," said ]\Irs. Cranmer feelingly; "Mr. 
 Bars tow ought never to dance." 
 
 For my part, the exhibition was so ludicrous, 
 yet so annoying, that I presently quitted the 
 gallery and returned to the drawing-room. Mss 
 Pegge Bumell had now accomplished the first 
 part of her labours, and was slowly circulating 
 amongst her guests, to see that they were duly 
 entertained; the moment she espied me, she signed 
 that she had something to say, and when I drew near 
 she asked how Ursula was getting on, I told her 
 she was then dancing with Mr. Bar stow, on which 
 she grinned and replied : " She deserves it for a 
 penance ; but I was rather rude to her, so I will 
 go and make amends ; " and snatching Dr. Julius 
 Eden firom Miss Theodora Bousfield, with the 
 remark that he had flirted long enough and must 
 now go and dance for his supper, she marched 
 him away to the gallery, and introduced him 
 to Ursula, who, the next time I looked in, was 
 enjoying a beautiful galop with him for a part- 
 
 11—2
 
 164 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 ner. "Now I have done my duty/' said our 
 hostess, with austere dissatisfaction as she returned ; 
 "but Miss Ursula will never be a favourite of 
 mine. My belief is that she is jealous of the 
 pretty one ! " 
 
 Dr. Julius Eden, when he had accomplished 
 his dance with Ursula, attempted to return to 
 the drawing-room, and the fascinating society of 
 Miss Theodora Bousfield, but Miss Pegge Burnell 
 detected the manoeuvre and drove him back, telling 
 him he should not be idle — he had come to a 
 Christmas ball and he must do his Christmas 
 duty. He endeavoured to remonstrate, but he 
 was not listened to, and a little while after I 
 again saw him standing up with Ursula. While 
 I was watching them, I heard an obsequious voice 
 behind me uttering my name, and turning my 
 head I saw it was the Fortuner, who, wearing 
 an expression of almost ecstatic delight, was fol- 
 lowing the figure of my sister with admiring 
 eyes, and murmuring incoherent tributes of com- 
 pliment to her in my ear. " Noble presence," 
 said he, "dignity of a duchess! Miss Fletcher, 
 your sister is the finest woman in the room — the
 
 MISS PEGGE BURNELL'S PAKTY. 165 
 
 finest woman I ever saw ! Such a high complexion, 
 such a supreme air — " and then he went off hastily 
 to a better post of observation, and stood against 
 the wall in an elegant attitude, with his head 
 on one side and his mysterious eye screwed up 
 under a gold-rimmed glass. 
 
 ^^ I think," said Miss Cranmer laughing, " your 
 sister has achieved a conquest." 
 
 I did not hke the remark, and probably looked 
 grave enough over it, for she added, " ]Mr. Bar- 
 stow is better than he looks — he is a very generous 
 little man and very wealthy, and I believe it is 
 all a fiction about his having been a hairdresser. 
 But it is stupid of him to make a lady con- 
 spicuous by his obtrusive admu'ation — she ought 
 to put him down — what 25 he going to do ? " 
 
 This last exclamation was elicited by Mr. Bar- 
 stow rushing suddenly across the room and thi'ust- 
 ing his elbow at poor Ursula with a breathless 
 " Permit me — supper ; " on which Dr. Julius Eden 
 stood back and resigned his partner, glancing down 
 at his supplanter with a whimsical smile of sur- 
 prise curling about his handsome mouth. Ursula 
 had no alternative but to accept the proffered
 
 166 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 arm and walk away to tlie supper room, looking 
 red and vexed beyond measure ; the dancers 
 trooped off in the same direction, and when 
 the gallery was nearly empty. Dr. Julius glanc- 
 ing round, perceived me and volunteered his 
 escort, observing with a queer twinkle of his 
 expressive eyes, " I thought myself ]5rovided 
 with a companion in your sister. Miss Fletcher, 
 but Mr. Barstow's movements are surprisingly 
 prompt — he overcame me by stratagem; had I 
 been aware of his object, I should have had 
 a sincere pleasure in disappointing him." 
 
 We found ourselves placed at table directly 
 opposite to Ursula and the Fortuner, who made 
 himself obtrusively agreeable, or disagreeable, 
 to her by frequent confidential whisperings, which 
 could hardly fail to attract observation; but 
 the little man had evidently not the slightest sus- 
 picion that she could be otherwise than flattered 
 and delighted by his assiduities. There was a 
 dish of crackers near them from which he helped 
 himself without stint, and having arranged his 
 spoils ingeniously in the form of a star upon 
 his plate, he said, " Now Miss Ursula ; " and
 
 MISS PEGGE BUKNELL'S PAETY. 167 
 
 offered her one to pull with him. Ursula took 
 hold of it as if she expected it would burn her 
 fingers, and when it exploded, she looked across 
 at me and said she was in a state of passive 
 resignation, but she did not wear the appear- 
 ance of that fi-ame of mind at all. Annoyance, 
 shame, and vexation combined had heated her 
 face m crimson patches, her exertions in dancing 
 had loosened her hair and disarranged her wreath, 
 until she looked anything but the pleased and 
 well-dressed Ursula who had left home a few 
 hours before in such exhilarated spirits. The 
 motto which the Fortune r had extracted from the 
 cracker must, I imagine, have been of a warmly 
 affectionate character, for after reading it himself, 
 he offered it to her with a significant chuckle, 
 and as she pouted contemptuously and averted 
 her head, he put it in his waistcoat pocket with 
 as jubilant an air as he might have worn had he 
 been an accepted lover, and that the frank avowal 
 of her tender sentiments for him. 
 
 Dr. Juhus Eden had Miss Theodora Bousfield 
 on his left hand, and to her he dedicated his 
 chief conversation, only now and then favouring
 
 168 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 me with any remark; but lie took care tliat I 
 had plenty to eat, and I was perfectly satisfied 
 to be left quiet ; for already I was growing tired 
 and longing to be at home. After supper, how- 
 ever, the dancing was renewed with fresh vigoui', 
 and as Ursula was yet unwilling to leave, I sat 
 down by Miss Cranmer and heard her remarks 
 on the gay groups that passed and repassed before 
 us. The Maurices and Mrs. Braithwaite were 
 not present, and Miss Cranmer's account of them 
 was that the Maurices disapproved of dancing 
 and of large, late parties, and that Mrs. Braithwaite 
 was nobody — she was trying to worm her way into 
 society but she had small chance of success, for 
 Miss Pegge Burnell, Mrs. Willoughby and all 
 thfe^ best pec^Dle had omitted calling upon her; 
 she was never to be met. Miss Craimaer believed, 
 except at the parsonage and the Dorcas gather- 
 ings. I had not before observed that the La^^els 
 were there, but the little dark one came up to 
 us, and Miss Cranmer eagerly made room for 
 her on the same couch with ourselves, asking 
 at the same time where she had been hiding 
 herself all night; to which Miss Layel replied
 
 mSS PEGGE BURNELL'S PAHTY. 169 
 
 that she had found a quiet corner in the drawing- 
 room, and as she had forgotten how to dance 
 she had preferred remaining t^ere to entering 
 the gallery and getting into the way of people's 
 feet 
 
 " I daresay you have been making your obser- 
 yations," said Miss Cranmer slyly. " If you had 
 come here earlier, you would have found some- 
 ihincr worth watchincj too/' 
 
 A scarcely perceptible frown wrinkled Miss 
 Layel's forehead for a moment, but she made no 
 response, and Miss Cranmer began to talk rather 
 largely, as it seemed to me, but still in a half- 
 confidential manner, of her extensive acquain- 
 tance in town, and during the next twenty minutes 
 we heard more of the ways and customs of polite 
 society than we were either of us likely to see 
 as long as we lived. Miss Cranmer professed 
 to know everybody, to have met everj'body, to 
 have spoken to everybody who was anybody; 
 or if she had not been personally intimate with 
 a few isolated individuals of distinction, she was 
 acquainted with their first-cousins, uncles, aunts, 
 or grandmothers, who had often and often told
 
 170 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 her all about tliem. She was very familiar, indeed, 
 with great names and, of course, she tripped now 
 and then on a mistake. Miss Lajel was not 
 insensible to the humorous, and it was probably 
 in a spirit of sarcasm that she suggested to Miss 
 Cranmer to set up a folio journal and become 
 a feminine Boswell to all the famous and talented 
 people she admired. Miss Cranmer confessed to 
 keeping something of that nature, and intimated 
 that it contained a store of personal anecdotes 
 well worth preservation, and then she asked Miss 
 Layel if she had a wide acquaintance with cele- 
 brated people, to which Miss Layel replied. No, 
 she knew nobody. 
 
 " If I had your opportunities I would not have 
 that to say long," rejoined Miss Cranmer, but 
 as Miss Layel was not responsive, she reverted 
 to her amusing gossip about the people around 
 us. She told us that Miss Theodora Bousfield 
 had been engaged for years to Dr. Julius Eden, 
 but that his uncle did not like the match, as 
 she was, at least, eight years his senior; and so 
 it had been put off, from time to time, until some 
 of their friends thought it would never take place
 
 MISS PEGGE BURNELL'S PARTY. 171 
 
 at all. She informed us of the nature and amount 
 of Mr. Barstow's property on what she called 
 the best authority, and gave us to understand that 
 Captain Willoughby and his wife lived in any- 
 thing but harmony — aU of which intelligence, we 
 discovered in process of time to be utterly devoid 
 of foundation — but it beguiled the tedious hours of 
 society to hear it, and as I make a practice of 
 never believing roundabout gossip, which it is 
 perfectly easy to do, there was not much harm 
 in it perhaps; I was not sorry, however, when 
 Ursula came up to me and announced that she 
 was ready to go home. **' If I dance any more 
 it must be with that odious little Fortuner," said 
 she in an angry undertone ; " and I would rather 
 die than stand up with him again." 
 
 So we said good-night to Miss Cranmer and 
 Miss Layel, and went in search of Miss Pegge 
 BumeU for the same purpose ; but we were told 
 by Dr. Eden that, under his orders, she always 
 quietly disappeared after supper, and left her 
 guests to entertain themselves and each other, 
 until they were tired and chose to disperse ; which 
 lie considered it was now full time to do, as it
 
 172 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 was between two and three o'clock of the morning. 
 He offered his arm to lead me to our carriage 
 (every vehicle in Redcross is a carriage), and as 
 we were descending the steps from the inner to 
 the outer hall with Ursula following, a scurry 
 of hasty steps overtook us, and I heard the 
 Fortuner's breathless voice gasping, " Miss Ursula, 
 are you really going ? permit me — great disap- 
 pointment — Sir Roger — promise myself — ^pleasure 
 — Mr. Fletcher — to-morrow." 
 
 "Did the man mean to say that he intended 
 calling on papa to-morrow?" cried Ursula in 
 angry consternation as we were driving off. 
 
 I replied that I had understood him so. 
 
 " I am sure papa does not want him," retorted 
 she pettishly; "he knows none of the usages of 
 society; how rude he was to Dr. Julius Eden — 
 he ought to have taken notice of it. I had three 
 dances with Dr. Julius — you cannot think, Doris, 
 how nicely he holds his partner in a galop. I 
 wish the Edens would call on papa — they are 
 worth knowing — but I shall never encourage the 
 Fortuner. I shall take care to be out of the 
 way to-morrow, and mind, Doris, you don't tell
 
 MISS PEGGE BUEXELL'S PARTY. 173 
 
 anybody at home about my ridiculous exhibition 
 with him — if you do I will never forgive you." 
 
 Thus admonished, I kept a discreet silence when 
 Ursula the next morning gave papa, mamma and 
 Connie a flourishing account of the most delightful 
 party she had ever been at in her life ; from which 
 account were omitted all mortif}-ing reminiscences 
 of the Fortuner, while the civilities of Dr. Julius 
 Eden were made even more than the most of. 
 She said nothing of Miss Pegge Burnell's un- 
 gentle remarks on Connie's absence, but much 
 of her own thorough enjoyment in all she had 
 seen and done; and had I not been present to 
 witness to the contrary, I should have believed 
 that the evening from first to last had been for 
 her one uninterrupted scene of triumph, success 
 and delight.
 
 174 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 XY. 
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 
 
 Ursula had stated lier intention of getting out 
 of the way at tlie time Mr. Barstow might be 
 expected to call on papa, but when it came to 
 the point she changed her mind and remained 
 all day about the house, taking her constitutional 
 in the garden instead of over the down with 
 Connie and myself. And much she congratulated 
 herself afterwards on having done so, for though 
 the Fortuner made his appearance and behaved 
 as absurdly as it was in his power to do, he 
 had not taken his leave more than five minutes 
 when Dr. Eden and his nephew called to pay 
 an initiatory visit. 
 
 Ursula was loud and eager in the praises of 
 both. 
 
 " You cannot think how agreeable Dr. Julius
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 175 
 
 is when you have him to yourself, and the old 
 gentleman is perfectly delightful ! " said she. 
 "They looked at my Turk's head and admired 
 it extremely ; and is it not curious ? they know 
 all mamma's Scotch connections ! " She also con- 
 trived to be papa's companion when he returned 
 the call, by persuading mamma that it was too 
 cold for her to go out, and by representing to 
 papa that the frost must have made the road 
 down to ScarclifFe so shppery that it would not 
 be safe for him to venture abroad without her 
 arm to lean upon. Everybody knew the mean- 
 ing and the value of this considerateness, but it 
 was permitted to pass unquestioned, and she put 
 on her most becoming bonnet and cloak with 
 great care for the occasion ; but unfortunately 
 all her pains were thrown away, for neither 
 Dr. Eden nor Dr. Julius happened to be at 
 home. 
 
 At this period Ursula dropt her idea of taking 
 a situation and frankly admitted that living in 
 the country was much pleasanter than she could 
 have imacrined. After Miss Petroe BurneU's 
 omnium gatherum many more people called upon
 
 17G WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 lis; amongst others ]\Ir. Foxley, Mr. Stewart, 
 Dr. Bousfield and INIiss Theodora, Mrs. and 
 Miss Cranmer, Captain and Mrs. Willoughby, 
 and Mrs. Braithwaite. Ursula and myself went out 
 frequently to entertainments of very various kinds. 
 Dr. Bousfield had musical evenings once a fort- 
 night, and at his house we always met the 
 Edens and what Ursula designated " the set 
 with brains." Mrs. Willoughby gave private 
 theatricals, carpet dances with a great deal of 
 dust, and a stand-up supper for ten to forty 
 people. Mrs. Cranmer had chatty small tea- 
 parties, where people were carefully selected in 
 harmonious groups, and Mrs. Braithwaite gave 
 serious entertainments with Mr. Foxley for the 
 main element of amusement. 
 
 It was a matter of serious discussion how we 
 should return the hospitality of our acquaintance, 
 but, at last, papa ruled that there was but one 
 way to do it, consistently with our means and 
 small accommodation — we must dine at six o'clock 
 instead of two once a week, and invite three or 
 four persons each time until we had paid our 
 debts. Ursula did not like the plan at all ; she
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 177 
 
 wanted to turn the house out of window and 
 have a regular dance in the dining-room, but 
 mamma and nurse Bradshaw stood firm against 
 any such domestic revolution. 
 
 " You may ask people to friendly dinners if 
 you choose, but it is my opinion that they will 
 not come," Ursula said. 
 
 But the event proved her mistaken, for the 
 first invitations were very cordially accepted by 
 Mr. and Mrs. Maurice, their younger daughter 
 and Mr. Stewart. We engaged the village 
 baker — according to Redcross custom — to relieve 
 nurse Bradshaw of the waiting at table, and papa 
 produced some of his reserved store of the choice 
 wines which had made his Roseberry hospi- 
 tahty famous amongst his friends. The evening 
 went off cheerfully and pleasantly ; so much so, 
 indeed, that Ursula recanted her former opinions, 
 and was ready to declare that quiet little dinners 
 were the most delightful of all forms of social 
 enjoyment. 
 
 There was another family debate before the 
 next invitations were written as to who ought 
 to receive them; but it ended in Dr. Bousfield 
 
 YOL. I. • 12
 
 178 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 and Miss Theodora being invited to meet Dr. Eden 
 and his nephew. 
 
 " And if Connie would consent to dine in the 
 naiddle of the day, which at her age would be 
 much more proper, we might have Miss Pegge 
 Burnell too," Ursula suggested. 
 
 "I don't care about it — I will not dine at 
 all if you like," replied Connie cheerfully ; and 
 Miss Pegge Burnell was asked accordingly, but 
 declined on the plea of not being well enough, 
 so Connie's place was still left open for her. 
 
 Ursula evidently regarded this second quiet 
 little dinner as of much greater importance than 
 the former one, and her interference and dictation 
 in all relating to it were very trying to the rest 
 of us. She testified more disappointment at 
 Miss Pegge Bumell's refusal than the occasion 
 seemed to deserve, and tried to interpolate 
 Mrs. Braithwaite in her stead ; but to this mamma 
 would not consent, and being contradicted she 
 lost her temper and became imperative with 
 Connie, for no reason that anybody could discover. 
 
 " Connie, you will not wear that pink spotted 
 muslin again that] you wore . when the Maurice
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 179 
 
 were here," began she irrelevantly. " It is quite 
 a momintr dress." 
 
 "Oh, it does not signify, as I am not out," 
 rephed Connie in some surprise. " You found 
 no fault before, — I like it, and it fits me so easily. 
 Besides I have nothing else except my tliick 
 merino." 
 
 " You have your checked silk, and that is 
 much more suitable ; your pink muslin is qidte 
 out of character at a dinner-party." 
 
 " But I have grown out of my checked silk," 
 persisted Connie ; " it is above my ankles, and 
 it is so short- waisted I cannot breathe in it." 
 
 Papa had been hstening to this brief dispute, 
 and now he bade Connie run away and put on 
 the silk attire, adding with a quizzical glance 
 at Ursula, — 
 
 " And if mamma pronounces against it you 
 shall trot down into Scarchfife with me, and I'll 
 buy you something new." 
 
 " There are many things much more wanted 
 in the house than new evening dresses for 
 Connie!" Ursula said indignantly, but Connie 
 obeyed papa, and presently reappeared amongst 
 
 12—2
 
 180 WxiKP AND WOOF. 
 
 us as much disfigured as it was possible for 
 her to be while possessing in her own person every 
 imaginable girlish grace. Papa and mamma both 
 laughed irresistibly as she danced in before them, 
 and papa said, — 
 
 "The little one is taller than either of you 
 two, girls ; she is just her mother's height, and 
 that is the height of the beauty of the world — 
 the Florentine Venus — I did not think, my dear, 
 you could have looked such a fright — that is 
 the feminine word, is it not ? There, go away — 
 something new is indispensable — don't you agree 
 with me, mamma ?" 
 
 " The pink muslin would have done very nicely," 
 said mamma. 
 
 " And this silk will do very nicely too," inter- 
 rupted Ursula. " Come here, Connie, I am sure 
 it can be altered." 
 
 Connie drew near with arch submission and 
 allowed herself to be manipulated in the out- 
 grown garment, while Ursula cleverly demon- 
 strated how, by letting down the skirt, putting 
 in a band and a false hem down the back it 
 could be made all that was desirable. " Take
 
 SHADOWS AT HOilE. 181 
 
 it off and bring it to me and I will set about 
 doing it for you at once/' she magnanimously 
 concluded. 
 
 " What say you, mamma ? " papa asked du- 
 biously. 
 
 "I think Connie must wear her pink muslin 
 again. That old silk has done its duty and 
 owes no one service; but it is not of much use to 
 buy her anything fresh at present when she goes 
 nowhere and has not, perhaps, done growing." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, mamma, I have done growing : 
 nurse measured me only the last week and I am 
 exactly the same as I was six montlis ago," Connie 
 assured her. "But I would rather have a new- 
 dress in spring than now, and I am sure nobody 
 but Ursie will ever fidget about what I wear." 
 
 So Connie appeared in the pink muslin and 
 looked, as she could not help looking, very, very 
 lovely. Dr. Eden, who had a great eye for 
 feminine attractions, assured me that in a few 
 years she would be that great rarity, ^^ a perfectly 
 beautifd woman ; " and Dr. Julius, who always 
 had a wilful way of trying to do what he liked, 
 irrespective of duty, took her into dinner because
 
 182 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 she was ^^ the little one," though it had heen 
 prearranged amongst ns that he should escort 
 Ursula. 
 
 Ursula afterwards made this a plea for com- 
 plaint to me against Connie's manners. 
 
 "You see how she does — she smiles and 
 blushes and looks up with her pretty eyes for 
 all the world like a child," began she ; " it really 
 is time for her to be told, if she cannot perceive 
 it for herself, that there is a certain something 
 expected in women beyond that. And the men 
 are quite ready to make a fool of her, with their 
 flattering air of delighting in all she says and 
 does. She might be a duchess from the deference 
 those two old doctors paid her to-night, and papa 
 was almost as bad ; — I declare it was a perfect 
 farce to watch them ; if they had behaved so 
 to me I should have thought they were mock- 
 ing me ! " 
 
 " If Connie is lovely, she cannot help it," said 
 I, vexed at such unreasonable nonsense : " and 
 surely you would not have her less modest? I 
 suppose nature has endowed her with that peculiar 
 fascination which she denies altogether to some
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 183 
 
 of US and which no arts and striving can win ; 
 and she can no more divest herself of it than 
 she can change the shape of her nose or the 
 colour of her hair. I know men admire her — 
 and I think them the best judges of what is 
 admirable in women after all, Ursie, though it 
 is a positive pleasure to me too to look at her 
 sweet, happv, innocent, beautiful face ! " 
 
 " Do vou I " retorted Ursula with great scorn ; 
 " well, she provokes me I and she would provoke 
 any one who was a degree less infatuated with 
 her than yourself. You cannot see a fault she 
 has." 
 
 '^ Yes, I can see that she is impatient occasion- 
 ally, and wilful often, and disposed to be careless 
 still oftener," returned I ; " but I cannot see that 
 the reverential admiration of two old gentlemen 
 is to be imputed to her as blame, or that it 
 would be wise to drill her prematurely out of 
 her childlike ways because Dr. Julius appeared to 
 think her a nice little thincr. She will learn to feel 
 like a woman all in good time, and the manners 
 of one will follow in due course ; but, for the 
 present, she will do very well as she is."
 
 184 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 "I don't agree witli you/' said Ursula deci- 
 sively; " but if her head is to be turned, remember 
 it cannot be charged upon me; for if I had my 
 way she should be sent to school for the next 
 year and a half." 
 
 I promised to bear the unnecessary warning 
 in mind, but just then Connie coming in to look 
 for me, Ursula asked her abruptly, " Connie, did 
 any of the gentlemen who were here last night 
 tell you you were charming ? " 
 
 Connie opened a pair of amazed eyes and 
 exclaimed, "What do you mean, Ursie? of 
 course they did not! I should have thought it 
 very rude if they had, and not at all charming 
 in them." 
 
 " There ! you see she is old enough to perceive 
 what would be an impertinence if put into so 
 many words ! " cried Ursula regarding me trium- 
 phantly. " Though you do fancy her so childlike, 
 she knows already that it is not the usage of good 
 society for men to compliment the women they 
 respect with frivolous speeches. But the far 
 more subtle flattery of their manner to her she 
 passes by." .
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 185 
 
 Connie looked puzzled and asked indefinitely 
 what it was all about? I told her it was all 
 about nothing. 
 
 " No, it is not all about nothing, it is all about 
 a matter of the highest importance,*' interposed 
 Ursula with difrnit^-. ''It is about vour way of 
 demeaning yourself towards gentlemen."' 
 
 Connie blushed painfully, and with an appealing 
 look at me, wanted to know what she had done 
 that she ought not to have done ? I said, "Nothing,' 
 but Ursula took up the word and answered, " You 
 have a trick of putting yourself forward; you 
 laugh and talk as if you were somebody, and you 
 are as vain a little minx as you used to be at 
 Roseberry when you always climbed upon the 
 gentlemen's knees to show your new shoes." 
 
 " I did not climb upon gentlemen's knees, it 
 was they who ran after me and caught me I " said 
 Connie indignantly. '*' And if you want to make 
 me always stop to consider what they may think 
 of me now before I speak, you will not succeed, 
 Ursie ! I could not do it if I would and I would 
 not if I could — and I wish you would let me 
 alone." Connie seemed very much as if further
 
 186 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 lecturing would bring her to tears, so I advised 
 her to go away and not mind. 
 
 " I can't help minding," said she more gently. 
 " I am sure papa and mamma would soon call me 
 to order if they saw I needed it, and I do not 
 think Ursie has any right to tease me. People 
 seem to like me as well as they like her, and 
 they would not do it if I had really forward 
 manners — I cannot always be keeping guard 
 over myself, I forget." 
 
 "You are under a disadvantage in having been 
 released from schoolroom disciphne too early," 
 said Ursula. " If Miss Hey wood had been here 
 last night, you would not have been in the 
 drawing-room half an hour and you would have 
 gone to bed at nine o'clock." 
 
 Connie sighed and looked disconsolate for a 
 moment," but on second thoughts, she threw that 
 feeling to the winds, and said with more deter- 
 mination than I had ever given her credit for, 
 "Ursie, I will not let you make me angry, but 
 I do think you talk ill-natured nonsense to 
 me. I know what is right and wrong as well as 
 you do."
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 187 
 
 "You are very wise in your own conceits I 
 daresay," retorted Ursula; "and quite too dig- 
 nified in your maiden modesty for any person 
 to venture on taking a liberty with you." 
 
 Connie's cheeks were crimson and her eyes 
 ominously bright between tears and vexation as 
 she replied, "You are unkind, Ursie; and I 
 don't think I understand half you mean ; but I 
 am sure I would not allow any one to approach 
 me with the easy insolence of that Mr. Tom 
 Claridge, who came up to talk to you at the 
 library the last time we were in Scarcliffe ! You 
 might have known him all your hfe instead of 
 having only met liim once before. I thought 
 him intolerably presuming and familiar, and I 
 wondered at your suffering him to speak to you 
 as he did; I am sure that if papa had been 
 within hearing, you would not have dared to 
 encourage such an odious person ! " 
 
 " Very childlike sentiments, indeed I " sneered 
 Ursula, with a significant glance at me. " She per- 
 ceives that Mr. Tom Claridge is not a nice person, 
 and she perceives correctly ; but how, being such 
 an innocent child, does she contrive to do it ? "
 
 188 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Connie replied that he had a rude way of 
 staring, "and," added she, "of complimenting 
 you, Ursie. He told you in less than ten minutes 
 that you were clever, witty, arch, sarcastic, and 
 blooming." 
 
 "Little pitchers have long ears!" interrupted 
 Ursula angrily. " If Mr. Tom Claridge had been 
 in Dr. Julius Eden's place last night, you would 
 have chattered to him just as much as you did to 
 Doctor Julius." 
 
 " No, I should only have been intent on getting 
 out of his way ; but papa would never ask such 
 a man within his doors," was Connie's answer. 
 "I know nothing about him, and I never saw 
 him before or heard his name, but I took an 
 antipathy to him at first sight. You have seen 
 him, Doris ; is he a good kind of man ? " 
 
 " No," replied I ; " he is the kind of man for 
 whom a pure-minded woman would feel an in- 
 stinctive repulsion; there is no need to inquire 
 into the metaphysics of the feeling, Connie, but 
 you may rely upon its being correct ; Mr. Tom 
 Claridge is undoubtedly a person to be avoided." 
 
 " Well, I declare ! " cried Ursula passionately,
 
 SHADOWS AT HO^IE. 189 
 
 '^of all the unreasonable trash I ever listened 
 to, that is about the worst. You have seen the 
 man once at a respectable house, he is of good 
 family, a barrister of great repute and learning, 
 and just because he has an impertinent trick of 
 staring and a rather fi'ee way of speaking, you 
 two dare to set him down as a person of no 
 character at all I " 
 
 Connie walked away out of the room with- 
 out speaking any more, and I was silent too ; 
 it was of no use reasoning with Ursula when 
 she was in one of her unreasonable moods ; she 
 would misrepresent our words and exaggerate 
 them, and when she got angry it was always 
 expedient to drop the subject in dispute and 
 leave her the last word. On this occasion, how- 
 ever, she continued to preach and morahze so 
 long and so wearily over Connie's delinquencies 
 and my foolish blindness to them, that I was, 
 at last, provoked to say, " Ursula, the plain 
 English of all this nonsense is, that you see 
 Connie receiving, without effort and without 
 triumph, a tribute of affection and admiration 
 which you, cbess, dance, study, struggle as you
 
 190 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 may, will never win I You are envious of her 
 beauty, and jealous of her success, and if you 
 go on much longer as you have done ever since 
 our first party at Redcross, your envy and jealousy 
 will soon become as evident to every one else as 
 they are to me ! " 
 
 I was half struck with compunction when the 
 words had passed my lips, but they were true, 
 and I was not then in the mood to temporize. 
 Ursula stared at me with astonishment for some 
 moments, and then she began to whimper and 
 to say with spurious pathos that my feelings 
 towards her were unsisterly. I would make 
 neither recantation nor concession, and by degrees, 
 she worked herself up into a fit of tears and went 
 down to dinner ostentatiously wiping her eyes. 
 Of course, mamma inquired what was amiss, and 
 she forthwith burst into a roar, declared I had 
 used her shamefully, and then rushed out of the 
 room and back upstairs. Mamma looked distressed, 
 and would have followed her with consolations, but 
 papa only put up his eyebrows and bade her sit 
 still. 
 
 " The girls talk with their door open, and Ursie
 
 SHADOWS AT HOME. 191 
 
 speaks too loud to keep secrets," said he ; '^ I was 
 upstairs wMle the feminiiie parhament was sitting, 
 and heard the members on both sides the house 
 — if the temper and follv of the honourable mem- 
 ber who has just retired evaporate at her eyes, so 
 much the better." Papa spoke in a tone of sar- 
 castic annoyance, and as mamma looked to him for 
 fiu'ther explanation, he gave it. " Ursula is hard 
 on the little one and finds fault with her manners, 
 which are very pretty manners so far as I can 
 judge— the little one turns the tables on Ursula, 
 and Doris backs her, then there is a battle royal. 
 The little one, esteeming prudence the better part 
 of valom', beats a retreat; then Ursula attacks 
 her remaining opponent tooth and nail : the oppo- 
 nent waits her opportunity, and concentrates all 
 her force into one blow, which prostrates the 
 assailant ignominiously in the dust she has been 
 at such pains to raise." 
 
 "It is very wrong to quarrel, children," said 
 mamma reprovingly ; " and very vulgar too. You 
 know Ursula cannot bear conti^adiction, so you 
 should try to put up with her." 
 
 "Don't forget that lesson, my dears," added
 
 192 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 papa ; " in studying it you will learn humility 
 and self-negation in the first degree." 
 
 Mamma shook her head at him as much as to 
 say he was encouraging us, but I think he after- 
 wards recounted to her the substance of what 
 he had ' overheard, for she said to me, ^^ Doris, 
 it is a pity you charged Ursula with being 
 envious and jealous of Connie — I am sorry to 
 see there is a little of both in her temper, but 
 it is not always wise to hurl such unpalatable 
 truths at your relations. They cannot be mi said, 
 and they are rarely forgotten. Ursula's words 
 do not count for much when she is angry, but 
 as you have more self-command and generally 
 speak in cool blood, what you say carries weight 
 as being what you tliinh Ursula sees that you 
 distrust her and take Connie's part on all occa- 
 sions; there ought to be no need to take parts 
 amongst sisters, but if any more of these little 
 differences of opinion arise, let them be referred 
 to me. Ursula must not be allowed to stimulate 
 Connie's ideas by such nonsense as she addressed 
 to her to-day, and of that both her father and 
 I have assured her \ but she will bear uo check
 
 SHADOWS AT H0:ME. 193 
 
 from you, because you are too nearly her equal 
 in age and experience; and to attempt it only 
 ends in exasperating her further and perpetuat- 
 ing the envenomed state of feeling. I am sure, 
 Doris, you do not desire to raise dissension at 
 home, and it is a thing shocking to me to con- 
 template'; so be still, my dear, and when Ursie 
 is unreasonable let her say her say." 
 
 ]Mamma was right, of course, but it was not 
 easy to attain to such angelical ways of acting 
 with Ursula. She chose to intimate that she 
 had gained a triumph over me in persuading 
 mamma to give me this little admonition, and the 
 triumph was, to say the least of it, provoking. 
 But I contrived to endure it in silence, and tried 
 to persuade myself that it was the silence of 
 contempt, but I beheve that I should dearly 
 have liked to speak and get the victory again 
 on my own side. 
 
 VOL. L 13
 
 194 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 XVL 
 
 REFLECTIVE. 
 
 Since accident laid me on my back and decreed 
 that henceforward I should only contemplate life 
 from an horizontal point of view, I have seen 
 many things in aspects which, perhaps, they never 
 could have borne to my eyes had I always looked 
 at them from a perpendicular position. Having 
 no more calls to action, no pressure of external 
 duties, no anxiety about to-morrow, the mind 
 has a tendency to subside, by degrees, into the 
 same quiescent attitude as the body, and ceases 
 to fret and fume over the thousand and one little 
 fidgets that used to make such a vext turmoil 
 of its busier estate. 
 
 My old Thought-Book contains many a line, 
 many a page, that shames me now for the feeble 
 worry that pemied them. Could I ever have
 
 EEFLECTIVE. 195 
 
 made so much ado about nothing? could I ever 
 have let uij mind go to pieces for days on petty 
 annoyances like these that I have recorded ? Was 
 my quiet broken up so often by a gust of 
 adverse temper, and were my little means of 
 amusement made of none effect whenever a tiny 
 provocation came in my way ? The old Thought- 
 Book compels me to answer, ^ Yes/ to all these 
 questions. I could bear a great trial with more 
 patience than I could bring to the encounter of 
 minute vexations, and these out-of-date annals 
 witness that I really suffered more in the aggre- 
 gate from my sister Ursula's peculiarities than 
 I did from our loss of Roseberry. 
 
 I beheve many persons to be in similar case. 
 A sharp attack of inflammation is bad to bear, 
 but a chronic crick in the neck would be worse 
 in the long run ; the extraction of a pet wisdom- 
 tooth is a test of courage, but I would rather 
 have a pet wisdom tooth out once a week than 
 suffer its gnawing pangs for the one hundred 
 and sixty-eight hours that would make up the 
 interval between each wrench. Ursula was the 
 metaphorical crick in my neck and the meta- 
 
 13—2
 
 196 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 pLorical nerve in my tooth without the alternative 
 of being "blistered or pincered away. She had 
 a tact, an ingenuity, a persistency in putting me 
 out which no other person ever possessed. I 
 tried to reason myself into a passive state of 
 mind on this subject often, but never, while we 
 were young, to any purpose. I was not quarrel- 
 some with other people, but I was perfectly con- 
 scious of a restless spirit of antagonism in my 
 heart towards her which a trifle would cause to 
 spm-t up in flame. 
 
 As children in the nursery, she took the higher 
 hand and kept it ; nurse Bradshaw's name for her 
 was '^ Mistress Uppercrust ; " in the schoolroom it 
 was the same. She was much quicker, cleverer, 
 more persevering than myself; but her ambition 
 was not my ambition, and I was not jealous, 
 perhaps because I was not emulous. She had 
 so thoroughly assumed and decided that she was 
 the daughter of talent and that I was a slow 
 girl, that her idea became the generally received 
 idea of the whole house, and I acquiesced in it like 
 everybody else. Papa was the only person of 
 the family who ever ventured on the suggestion
 
 EEFLECTIVE. 197 
 
 that I could possibly be lier equal in mental 
 capacity, but it did not alter Ursula's estimate 
 of her own superiority one iota. 
 
 Perhaps this serene sense of elevation was the 
 main source of her powers of irritation. It is 
 not pleasant to be sneered down even as a child, 
 and later in life the ordeal becomes still more 
 grievous. True humility bears it beautifully, of 
 course, but we are most of us a long while in 
 attaining to that heavenly temper, and, meantime, 
 we are naturally given to revolt. And besides 
 this obtrusively ruffling propensity, Ursula had 
 another which was almost equally vexatious. If 
 an argument was going against her, she stopt 
 it short of its climax by a flood of tears ; when, 
 for the life of me, I could not help undergoing 
 all the wretched sensations of bemg in the wrong, 
 even though I knew myself to be absolutely in 
 the right. From that phase she would take 
 refuge in airs of martyrdom, provokingly pathetic 
 to witness, which made everybody silent and 
 miserable. So long as Miss Hey wood was with 
 us, every now and then, she was signally defeated 
 and compelled to lay by her injured tone as too
 
 198 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 ridiculously false to be maintained; but at Red- 
 cross there was no longer tliat plain-spoken, fear- 
 less woman, with her invincible sense of justice, 
 to put her down, and in fighting my own and 
 Connie's battles it nearly always happened that 
 I came ofi* worsted. 
 
 So the old Thought-Book was made the confidant 
 of our paltry troubles, and here they rise again 
 to show me my own weakness and inconsistency 
 at almost every line, quite as forcibly as they 
 record her jealous spirit of domineering, her 
 determination to be the most important figure 
 in the family, and her annoying persistence in 
 being always in the right. 
 
 I never from my earliest recollection heard 
 Ursula admit that she might have been mistaken 
 or could have done wrong. Her principles were 
 the most correct — her views the most enlarged — 
 her wishes of the first importance — her opinions 
 of greatest weight ; any one who did not implicitly 
 believe in her was prejudiced and, therefore, un- 
 worthy of her consideration ; and as I could neither 
 believe in her nor pretend I did, we often came 
 to open quarrel. In those days I was young.
 
 EEFLECTIVE. 199 
 
 strong and full of will too^ and so she vexed 
 me sharply again and again, and conquered me 
 again and again, and triumphed over me again 
 and again, and on the next occasion I returned 
 to the warfare as keenly as ever. 
 
 But now all our little points of contention 
 heaped together are not worth a serious thought. 
 Ursula might figuratively tower on stilts a head 
 above me and I should not care ; she might 
 patronize me with her stores of useful know- 
 ledge, and I would listen as patiently as to a 
 sermon; she might lay down whole codes of 
 law about my sofa, and I would not lift a finger 
 to break through one of them; she might talk 
 of herself by the hour together in a rasping, 
 exalted voice, and I would only shut my eyes 
 and try to doze ; she might slam the doors or 
 leave them standing wide to let in all the draughts, 
 and I would make no complaint. But it is not 
 any virtue of humihty, or resignation, or patience 
 that has brought me to this quiet pass — it is 
 something quite as powerful over human actions 
 though it has nothing to do with human motives — 
 in short it is necessity. I cannot help myself.
 
 200 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and my condition has led me to the discovery 
 that it is more comfortable to be weak under 
 absolute despotism than it is to be strong under 
 wavering tyranny. 
 
 At this day when Ursula revisits Redcross, I 
 bend my neck voluntarily to her yoke and give 
 in as meekly to her laws as if w^e were children 
 again in the nursery at Roseberry. She says 
 I have learnt, at last, to see her in her proper 
 light and to do her character justice ; but during 
 that first year of our residence at Redcross I 
 was a long w^ay from having attained to this 
 measure of understanding, and so it came to 
 pass that, even after mamma's grave admoni- 
 tion, I was again very shortly at war with her 
 as to which of us must go to old aunt Maria 
 in the spring, for the six weeks' visit w^hich one 
 or another of us had annually paid her since w^e 
 were ten years old. It was not a change we 
 any of us desired, but I was willing to go ; Ursula 
 was for despatching Connie, and Connie, on her 
 part, desired to evade the penalty — for such, I 
 remember, we then thought it. 
 
 Aunt Maria was papa's eldest sister; she was
 
 EEFLECTIVE. 201 
 
 a single woman^ and lived on a small income in 
 one of the least attractive and dullest villages I 
 ever saw. She kept one servant, who had been 
 with her for thirty years, and the roles of her 
 house were of almost Spartan rigour. If she 
 laid it down as a rule that the season of the 
 year was come to take exercise at a stated time 
 of day, out at that hour and no other must we 
 go, whether it rained or shone. She was literally 
 parsimonious in her own expenditure that she 
 might have the more to give away, and her 
 invaluable Nancy aided and abetted her in all 
 her saving devices. Work she would allow none 
 but plain work ; all books that were not of a 
 strictly instructive tendency were forbidden her 
 shelves, and company of her own class never 
 entered her doors. Ursula had once spent six 
 months vrith her, as a change after the scarlet 
 fever, and she looked back upon that epoch with 
 unfeigned disgust, always raising it when spring 
 came round, as a plea why she should be excused 
 going again — a plea that had now for several 
 years been successful. 
 
 On this occasion, however, when the business
 
 202 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 came on for discussion^, papa asked, '' Why should 
 you not go yourself, Ursie ? Your aunt Maria 
 has not seen you since you were fourteen." 
 
 " Oh, indeed, papa, I won't go, just when I 
 have begun to like K-edcross; I shall think it a 
 shame if I am sent," was her hasty reply. " There 
 is no reason in the world why Connie should not 
 take her turn — Doris was there last year." 
 
 Connie said nothing, but she looked very dismal, 
 so I announced my readiness to go. I had my 
 motive in it; I wanted to judge of poor aunt 
 Maria's lonely life, since my own was fated to 
 emulate it in its solitariness. I had heard papa 
 say that she had not always been the same as 
 she was now, and I was grown interested to 
 learn how she contrived to be content, and even 
 happy, with none of the visible appliances of 
 happiness about her. 
 
 But Ursula persisted that it was Connie's turn, 
 and the decision was not reached then nor until 
 after several more debates ; but, at last, the bright 
 idea struck us that if we both went, the visit 
 might be made almost pleasant; Ursula found 
 nothing to say against that, but even caught at
 
 EErLECTIYE. 203 
 
 the proposition with eagerness, saying, " Why 
 should we not ! it was a good thought," — and 
 neither papa nor mamma raising any objection, 
 during the last week in April, Connie and I 
 left home together in better spirits than any of 
 us had ever gone to aunt Maria before.
 
 204 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 AUNT MARIA'S HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Aberfokd was the name of the retired midland 
 county village where aunt Maria had seen fit to 
 locate herself. It was a long day's journey from 
 Redcross, and when we arrived at our destination 
 it was almost night. Dusk though it was, how- 
 ever, I saw that the house had undergone rather 
 extensive alterations and additions, since my visit 
 in the spring of the previous year, of which we 
 had heard nothing at home; indeed, at first, I 
 thought that the cabman must have made a 
 mistake and brought us to the wrong place, until 
 Connie said, no, there was aunt Maria standing 
 in the doorway and Nancy arriving from Ijhe 
 kitchen with her candle. 
 
 Upon that we got out and walked up the 
 garden path, vainly speculating on the visible
 
 AUIsT MAEIA'S HOUSEHOLD. 205 
 
 changes in the house, until aunt Maria met us on 
 the threshold and gave us a welcome in her 
 b'ndlj, formal vraj. She led us into the well- 
 known parlour for a few minutes tili Nancy, 
 having carried our luggage to our room upstairs, 
 brought a light and intimated that we might as 
 well go too, and then we should be comfortably 
 ready for our tea by the time our tea was ready 
 for us. Aunt Maria accompanied us, and having 
 put down the candle and seated herself to wait 
 while we took off our travelling wraps and re- 
 arranged our dress, she remarked on Connie's 
 growth, made a few inquiries about those we 
 had left at home, and then proceeded to explain 
 the puzzle of her enlarged premises. 
 
 " Children,'' she began, " you will find I have 
 increased my establishment since you were here 
 last — you will see two ladies at tea, strangers to 
 you, of whose peculiarities you must be as in- 
 observant as possible. I found my income larger 
 than my necessities or my means of usefulness 
 in Aberford, and the charge of these afflicted 
 persons supplies me with continual work and 
 interest. One of them is the daucrhter of a former
 
 206 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 friend of our family, the other is a lady of 
 education who, in losing her mind, lost all power 
 of self-support. Had not I received her she must 
 have been removed either to the county pauper 
 asylum or to the district workhouse, for her 
 crotchets had become too troublesome to be borne 
 with longer by the family where she was for many 
 years employed as governess. I tell you this that 
 you may not be taken by surprise. You have 
 too much courage and too high a sense of 
 propriety, I trust, to betray any annoyance or 
 groundless alarm." 
 
 So we had come to Aberford to enjoy the 
 cheerful society of two lunatics in addition to that 
 of aunt Maria and old Nancy ! The announce- 
 ment dismayed me very considerably, and poor 
 Connie already began to tremble and change 
 colour by anticipation. Aunt Maria had much 
 more confidence in us than we had in ourselves, 
 for we both entertained a terror of insane persons, 
 neither uncommon nor unnatural, I believe; and 
 to be domesticated with a couple of mad women 
 for six weeks was a trial which neither of us 
 would voluntarily have encountered had we known
 
 AUNT MARIANS HOUSEHOLD. 207 
 
 what awaited us before we left home. But here 
 we were, and as it was decidedly a stretch beyond 
 our daring to express our feelings to aunt IMaria, 
 we had nothing to do but to hold them in panting 
 check, to be as long over dressing as we could, 
 and finally to follow her downstairs in a suppressed 
 state of apprehensive expectancy. Nancy was 
 just on the point of coming to hasten us when we 
 appeared in the rear of aunt Maria, and as she 
 opened the door of a new room which had been 
 built for the accommodation of the patients, she 
 said: 
 
 " Mistress, you'd better be quick, ©r I shouldn't 
 wonder if Sofona's at the cream again ; " which 
 suggested that the family had been further 
 increased by a cat, but turned out to mean only 
 that the lesser of aunt Maria's charges had a 
 weakness for the contents of the ewer when not 
 under proper surveillance. 
 
 ; "As we entered, this poor Sofona jumped up 
 from a seat by the guarded fire and ran towards 
 us with lively expressions of joy at our arrival, 
 on which aunt Maria introduced us in due form 
 by our Christian names, and then the brisk httle
 
 208 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 body set chairs for us by the tea-table and opined 
 that we must be hungry after our long journey — 
 a most just and sensible remark, which dissipated 
 a little of our qualdng awe and placed us more 
 nearly on a level. Her companion in misfortune 
 took no notice of the bustle, but sat drooping on 
 the floor, her arms clasped round her knees and 
 her chin on her breast, until aunt Maria touched 
 her on the shoulder, when she looked up, smiling 
 and vacant, like a grey-headed child; she took 
 hold of aunt Maria's gown and put it to her lips, 
 and then reverted to her former attitude, from 
 which she did not stir again until Nancy brought 
 in the urn ; when she rose slowly and trailed 
 herself to a seat by the tray at aunt Maria's 
 elbow and then sat watching her face with a 
 placid, reliant affectionateness very, pathetic to 
 witness. When Nancy supphed her with bread 
 and butter, however, she began to eat with great 
 eagerness and enjoyment, while Sofona minced 
 and nibbled in the most airified manner, breaking 
 forth every now and then into renewed expressions 
 of satisfaction at our safe arrival. On the whole, 
 the aspect of this queer little family party was
 
 AUNT MAEIA'S HOUSEHOLD. 209 
 
 mucli less terrible in reality than it had appeared 
 by anticipation. 
 
 Aunt Maria^ ever since we could remember her, 
 had lived like a nun, all but the vows, and as she 
 now sat in a great chair at the head of the table 
 in a black cloth gown and close-crimped net, 
 quakerish cap, she looked not unlike one. In 
 figure and in features she must once have strongly 
 resembled Connie, but now a gentle austerity 
 was the prevalent expression of her countenance ; 
 she looked hale and active for her years, and had 
 still a wintry rose of complexion, but the form 
 and set of her mouth showed as much determina- 
 tion as tenderness, and the quiet penetration of 
 her eyes intimated a sagacity that would not 
 easily be hoodwinked. She had been a very 
 formidable person to all of us from our babyhood 
 upwards ; not that she was harsh or severe, but 
 that she preached and practised such awfully strict 
 rules of duty and self-denial, and, in her own house, 
 enforced them upon her little visitors. Never had 
 any of us, not even Ursula, ventured on open 
 revolt, bitter as might have been our secret 
 murmurs at being driven into the exercise of the 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 noblest Christian virtues against our wills. If 
 our hearts had been in our work, we might have 
 claimed canonization as premature ascetics and 
 ultimate saints ; but they never were. 
 
 I recollect with the distinctness which always 
 attends an acute disappointment, the first dinner 
 I ever ate under aunt Maria's roof: it happened 
 to be one of her lenten days, and lenten days 
 came round there three times a week ; the first 
 dish was broad beans to be eaten only with salt 
 — fare which by no means approved itself to 
 my dainty Koseberry palate — but after that was 
 removed by me untouched, Nancy brought 
 in a sago - pudding, puffed, brown, crisp, 
 which promised a moderate degree of satisfac- 
 tion, and on that my eyes and mind settled 
 for a few calm moments of anticipatory con- 
 tent. Aunt Maria took up a spoon, poised it 
 for a second and laid it down again, saying to 
 Nancy in the most matter-of-fact way in the 
 world : 
 
 " No, we will not eat it, it looks so light, we 
 will carry it to those poor children at the Ford 
 who are recovering from the measles. Doris,
 
 AUNT ilAEIA'S HOUSEHOLD. 211 
 
 if you are still hungry you shall have a slice 
 of brown bread and a cup of milk." 
 
 So I ate my brown bread in dissatisfied silence, 
 and took credit for a self-denial which I was 
 much too hungry to have practised had I been 
 left to choose; that was the way aunt Maria 
 acquired her power over us ; she assumed that all 
 beautiful virtues, thoughts, and wishes came 
 naturally to us as to her, made us enact them, 
 and imphed her approval of cm' behaviour so 
 kindly, that for veiy shame we dare not assert 
 our propensity to be as selfish, greedy, and 
 naughty as other little people. We carried that 
 pudding to the children at the Ford, and I hope 
 and believe it did them good ; it was by no means 
 the last disappointment of a similar kind that I 
 was called upon to bear during my -v-isits to aunt 
 Maria in their behalf. 
 
 Last year I had found her appropriating the 
 largest room in her house as a temporaiy nursery 
 for sick children, but the poor in Aberford were 
 not very numerous, and this source of employment 
 failing her just at the time when poor Sofona 
 was about to be thrown friendless and helpless 
 
 U— 2
 
 212 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 on the world, she had taken the sudden resolution 
 of devoting her superfluous charities to her and 
 one other lady afflicted in the same degree ; so, 
 in fact, she afterwards explained her reasons and 
 her manner of undertaking what appeared to me 
 a most arduous and anxious task. With a view 
 to carrying out her designs in the ahlest way, 
 she had added to her small old-fashioned cottage 
 two larger rooms one ahove the other, and in 
 the lower of these it was that we were now 
 drinking tea in company with her poor charges. 
 It was a long room in which both the reality 
 and the appearance of luxury had been utterly 
 repudiated. The floor, the mantel-piece, the 
 furniture, were all of dark varnished pitch-pine, 
 the windows were uncm'tained, the boards un- 
 carpeted, the walls were papered with glazed sea 
 green, cool and clouded; but there was a plant stand 
 which made a brilliant spot of colour with its 
 primulas, tulips, and hyacinths ; there were cages 
 of birds, now covered up and gone to roost, and 
 there was — thing unheard of in aunt Maria's 
 house before — a piano standing open and with 
 music on the desk. I afterwards discovered that
 
 AUXT ilAEIA'S HOUSEHOLD. 213 
 
 there was light literature too, Sofona was a novel 
 reader, and I am sure aunt Maria must have had 
 a sharp contest with her principles, and perhaps 
 with the medical adviser under whose directions 
 she acted, before she yielded to such a subversion 
 of all she considered profitable and right, as was 
 implied by the introduction of that upon her grave 
 and standard shelves. 
 
 Changes and yet more changes I "When tea 
 was over Sofona promptly produced a draught- 
 board and challenged aunt Maria to a game ; it 
 was very well contested, and Sofona won. While 
 this was in progress the other poor lady betook 
 herself again to her favourite attitude upon the 
 floor, from which she did not rise until about 
 nine o'clock when Nancy came in for prayers. 
 Sofona cried out tartly '^too soon," but aunt 
 Maria said ^^ Hush," and the rebel subsided into 
 silence. The ceremonial of prayers was much 
 shorter than I remembered it formerly, but short 
 as it was it was still almost too long for Sofona, 
 who became fidgety with her feet and head, and 
 had to be repeatedly admonished by a touch from 
 Nancy that she was behaving amiss.
 
 214 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 When all was over she rose up like a spring 
 suddenly set free and exclaimed eagerly, — 
 
 " Conversation ! let us have conversation," but 
 aunt Maria replied "Vvith quiet decision that there 
 would be time enough for conversation on the 
 morrow, but that now everybody was going to 
 bed; and she dismissed Connie and me with 
 orders to be downstairs in the morning for 
 breakfast not later than eight o'clock.
 
 215 
 
 XYIIL 
 
 • EDITH AXD SOFONA. 
 
 When Connie and I found ourselves in the 
 retirement of our own room, we began to have 
 a talk over aunt Maria's new reading of her old 
 lessons of dutv. Her life was e\-identl7 given 
 up to these two poor witless women; she had 
 relinquished the peace and quietness and refined 
 orderHness which used to be its prevalent atmo- 
 sphere, for incessant anxietj, worrv and work. 
 Formerly we could see that monotonous as her 
 existence appeared to us, she was, nevertheless, 
 contented in it, and happy in her own way. If 
 she had a hard day at the village school, or a 
 long round amongst her old women pensioners, 
 or a nursing visit to a sick room, she had still 
 her own undisturbed home to return to for 
 evening rest, her favourite books, her work and
 
 216 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 her faithful Nancy. But by bringing these 
 unfortunates to her fireside she had annihilated 
 all privacy and independence; that game of 
 draughts with Sofona had taken the place of her 
 precious hours of reading, and the necessity of 
 constant watchfulness over her patients must, 
 we knew, destroy the mental serenity which had 
 been like a soft evening sunshine to her declining 
 days. I think we felt that though such devo- 
 tedness might be beautiful it was above our 
 sympathy; we could never go and do lilvewise, 
 much as we might honour those who did; and 
 we were speculating on what aunt Maria's early 
 history might have to show by way of elucidating 
 her present life, when there came a knock at our 
 door and her voice asking; "Children, are you 
 in bed yet ? " 
 
 We were not, so we opened the door and she 
 entered, looking, I thought, very tired and feeble. 
 She sat down in the easy chair, and when I said 
 I was sure she was overdoing herself, for she 
 seemed almost worn off her feet, she replied; 
 " Better rub out than rust out, Doris ; there will 
 be time enough to rest by and by."
 
 EDITH AND SOFOXA. 217 
 
 After a little talk Connie asked if Sofona or 
 the other lady were ever dangerous. 
 
 "No, I could not have charged myself ^Yith 
 them if that had been the case/' was the answer. 
 "Sofona is fractious and impatient occasionally, 
 and I should imagine that even when in fall 
 possession of her faculties, she must have been 
 a vain, crotchety little woman, but she is con- 
 trolled more easily than many children. As 
 for poor Edith, she has no will at all; she 
 eats and sleeps and warms herself at the fire, 
 and is quite oblivious of all the miseries under the 
 sun." 
 
 Connie asked if she had been aU her life 
 imbecile. 
 
 " Oh, no I " aunt Maria replied. " I can 
 remember her a girl as pretty, cheerful and 
 gay as yourself. A proud, high-spirited lassie 
 as ever breathed she was — but who would believe 
 it now?" 
 
 " And Sofona ? " I inquired. 
 
 "I do not know that Sofona's malady can be 
 traced back to any particular event or chain of 
 events," was the reply ; " she was veiy odd and
 
 218 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 troublesome long before it declared itself in its 
 present decided form. It is probably inherited; 
 many members of her family have been at dif- 
 ferent times in seclusion. But Edith came of as 
 sound and healthy a stock as any in England; 
 it was just trouble that turned her brain, poor 
 soul, and nothing else." 
 
 We wanted to learn her story, but aunt Maria 
 said it was too long to tell us then, but we should 
 hear it another time; and so she bade us good 
 night once more and went away, turning back 
 at the door to tell us that we should walk out 
 after breakfast the next morning in the meadows 
 that skirted the river; and therefore, we had 
 better prepare ourselves by putting on our holland 
 dresses and stoutest boots, as the grass would 
 most probably be wet. And with that she went 
 to her bed in the new long room where her two 
 patients were already secured — night and day 
 she was at their call, and never safe from their 
 disturbance. 
 
 Poor old aunt Maria! I felt inexpressibly 
 touched and sorry for her, and Connie said : " If 
 she were a Roman Catholic, Doris, I should fancy
 
 EDITH AXD SOFOXA. 219 
 
 she was doing penance for some sin wliicli only 
 the sacrifice of a whole lifetime could atone 
 for." 
 
 It was new to both of us to see her weak, to 
 hear her admit that she was weary, and to feel that 
 she was vaguely craving help and sympathy out of 
 herself. I beHeve she felt the burden she had 
 taken on her shoulders almost heavier than she 
 could bear, and yet one which she could never 
 cast off. I recollect that she once said to me that 
 it was a tash where all her other labours had 
 been more or less a pleasure. 
 
 " But," she added conclusively, " when I 
 undertook it, it seemed to me the one right 
 thing to do, and I have never permitted myself 
 to look forward to the issues of conscientious acts. 
 Only I find myself often hoping and praying 
 that my life may be prolonged beyond theirs ; it 
 would be very hard for me to die and for Sofona 
 to go to the workhouse. Poor Edith has friends, 
 but the care of her is a sad burden to those 
 who have life to support and world's work to 
 do; so I trust I may lay their heads to rest, 
 both of them, before I go to my own."
 
 220 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Wliicli humble desire was, in fact, granted her, 
 but not for some years yet. 
 
 When we drew up our blind the next morning 
 and looked out into the garden, the first person 
 we saw was Sofona gathering violets under the 
 sumiy shelter of the wall. Connie rapped upon 
 the glass, and caused her to look up, which she 
 did with a shower of little nods, highly expres- 
 sive of her satisfaction at the sight of us. We 
 presently joined her, when she said with a puzzled 
 air, — 
 
 " I have found so many of my ideas vanish 
 next morning that I was afraid you might vanish 
 too." She then told us that aunt Mai'ia was 
 dressing Edith, that the violets were for herself, 
 as she loved perfumes, and then, with an air of 
 importance informed us that her newspaper was 
 come, and that she was going to read what was 
 happening in the world. When Nancy called 
 us in to breakfast shortly after, we found her 
 diligently poring over the leading article of a 
 three days old Times, while Edith knelt to warm 
 herself at the fire, and aunt Maria with much 
 of the appearance of her old grave activity was
 
 EDITH AND SOFONA. 221 
 
 making two bo^yls of porridge ready for their 
 eating. 
 
 Sofona abandoned her study with reluctance, 
 when summoned to come to table, and peevishly 
 interrupted aunt Maria's formula of asking a 
 blessing by looking at Connie and exclaiming, 
 irrelevantly, " A tragical young lady I " After 
 that momentary ebullition of temper, however, 
 she soon became pleasant again, and even con- 
 versational, when she had taken the edge off 
 her appetite with a few spoonfuls of porridge. 
 Aunt ]\Iaria was not discouraging, as she used 
 to be when we were talkatively inclined, but on 
 the contrary, she asked Sofona what news there 
 was in the paper, and seemed to expect a sen- 
 sible reply ; but her charge was in crotchety 
 mood, for she would only speak at her own 
 time, and in her own way, and instead of 
 vouchsafing any answer to the question from the 
 head of the table, she turned to me in a pointed 
 manner and begged to know if I was literary ; 
 to which I replied, " No, not at all." 
 
 " I am," said she with solemn assurance. "I 
 was always literar}' ; I always enjoyed the con-
 
 222 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 versation of intellectual people. But I think the 
 world has grown duller than it was ; so many 
 persons have not two ideas to rub against each 
 other, my memory is not what it was, but I 
 know there were sensible people when I was 
 young. Do you read ? Richy-Bochy — I have 
 just furnished that admirable book in which 
 Richy-Bochy occurs with the stocks, and the red 
 umbrella." 
 
 I foolishly suggested, " Ricca-bocca." 
 
 " Ah ! Ricca-hocca," echoed Sofona critically ; 
 " sound is a matter of taste. I prefer Richy-Bochy 
 — it fills the mouth better." 
 
 "How do you like Mr. Pendennis, whose 
 adventures you have in hand ? " aunt Maria 
 inquired. 
 
 " He is a puppy — a puppy, but an uncommonly 
 likely young person," was the ready answer: 
 '^ George Warrington's the man of my heart ! 
 Lord ! if it were worth crying for anybody, I 
 could cry for George ! I love him ; blacking his 
 boots and cooking his chops, I love him ! I 
 wish that odious wife of his were dead, but I 
 adore him for having been infatuated enough to
 
 EDITH AKD SOPOXA. 223 
 
 marry her. But it is a desperate thing to see 
 Laura so mismatched — I wonder whether they 
 agree ? " 
 
 I was glad to be able to assure her that they 
 were a perfectly satisfactory couple according to 
 the last accounts. 
 
 "Ah! but George would have suited her 
 better," persisted she ; " George would have suited 
 her better, I am sure of it. But it is no concern 
 of mine — they must fight it out. Some folks 
 marry without the ghost of a chance of being 
 happy. There's a deal of wickedness and misery 
 in the world, but why need it get into books? 
 Look at Randal Leslie and that cat Blanche 
 Amory — what's the good of them ? Poison 'em, 
 I say, and have done with 'em." 
 
 While Sofona was chattering in this exuberant 
 strain, her pori'idge was at a standstill, but being 
 gently warned that it was growing cold and un- 
 palatable, she returned to the business of the 
 hour, emptied her bowl, and asked for her cup 
 of tea. 
 
 " Are you sure you wish for it, Sofona ? " 
 aunt Maria mildly inquked. Sofona replied in
 
 224 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 the affirmative, but when it was given to her 
 she did not attempt to taste it, and w^hispered to 
 me confidentially that she hated drugs. And 
 this little pretence she went through regularly 
 every breakfast time — invariably demanding tea 
 and invariably leaving it untouched ; but to cross 
 her humour in that one particular was enough 
 to put her out and make her perverse for the 
 whole day. 
 
 We had prayers after breakfast, during which 
 Sofona walked about, and when they were ended 
 she spread her newspaper on the table, brought 
 forward a desk, pens and ink, and established 
 herself in aunt Maria's vacated chair with fussy 
 demonstrations of going to be very busy. She 
 admonished poor Edith, who had never once 
 opened her lips, that she must be quiet and 
 not talk, and then she began to scribble in 
 vehement haste, by and by looking up to inform 
 Connie and myself that she had a world of 
 work to do. Her business was, however, shortly 
 interrupted by Nancy putting her head into the 
 room, and announcing in amit Maria's name that 
 it was time to go out.
 
 EDITH AND SOFOXA. 225 
 
 "I shall not finish it if I Hve to be as old 
 as Methusalem ! " cried Sofona snappishly, but 
 she laid by her pen, rose and went out to 
 make readv for our walk, Edith foUowincr 
 with her head on one side feebly smiling to 
 herself. 
 
 A queer little group of women we were when 
 we met in the garden, and started down the 
 lane to the river-side. But Aberford was now 
 grown accustomed to aunt Maria and her eccen- 
 tricities, and we passed through the village with- 
 out attracting the attention of even stray children. 
 It was a bright, crisp morning, and the rimy 
 hoar-frost still sparkled under the hedgerows, 
 where the sun had not yet reached; but the 
 slow river was creeping through the sedgy levels 
 in the same lazy way as I had watched it creep 
 during many a past and gone morning's walk, 
 and not a feature of the scene looked different 
 from what it had looked any time for the last 
 dozen years. 
 
 I do not like a flat country any more than 
 I like a country of savage and barren grandeur, 
 but aunt Maria thought Aberford a pretty place, 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and said there were a thousand things to be learnt 
 in its lanes and fields, if I only had the mind to 
 learn them. Perhaps I had not the mind, for 
 I certainly never did learn them, and I was 
 thankful we had pitched our own tent in a- soft, 
 undulating, varied district, where nature wore a 
 garb of beauty every day ; and our appreciation 
 of it was not dependent on damp, weedy excur- 
 sions after botanical specimens in ditches and 
 marshes. We stayed out of doors for nearly 
 two hours, and very long hours they were, with 
 poor Sofona for my companion, talking intellec- 
 tual conversation all the while, but at last aunt 
 Maria gave the word to march homewards, and 
 homewards we marched accordingly. 
 
 Coming in sight of the cottage, we saw a 
 gentleman standing within the garden gate, 
 apparently on the look-out for us ; the moment 
 we appeared he came down the lane to meet 
 us, while Sofona announced sharply that it was 
 Edith's brother. 
 
 "Is it, indeed?" said aunt Maria, who was^ 
 short-sighted, and quickening her steps, while 
 Connie and I retarded ours, she presently came
 
 EDITH AND SOFOXA. 227 
 
 up with him, and a very cordial greeting was 
 exchanged between them. 
 
 The stranger then looked at Edith, took her 
 unresisting hand, and drew it through his arm, 
 saying just as we approached within hearing, — 
 
 " It was mj mother's wish that I should come, 
 she could not be satisfied unless I saw with my 
 own eyes that the poor thing was not unhappy." 
 
 ^^ All times, places and people are alike to 
 her, Paul," aunt Maria replied ; " happiness and 
 unhappiness are unmeaning sounds to her ears. 
 Give her food and fire, and she has all she 
 knows how to enjoy. She is as quietly con- 
 tented as a child." 
 
 " She always was," said he, and they walked 
 back the rest of the way to the cottage in silence. 
 
 15—2
 
 228 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AN OLD STORY. 
 
 As we were going indoors aunt Maria recollected 
 ns^ and turning about, said, — 
 
 "These are two of my nieces, Paul; children, 
 Mr. Westmore." 
 
 With a hurried, abstracted air he bowed and 
 stood aside to let us pass, and Connie and I 
 immediately recognized in him the person who 
 had put us in our way back to Redcross when 
 we lost ourselves on the downs, and called to 
 inquire at the lonely cottage in the hollow during 
 that winter afternoon's walk of which I have 
 already spoken. 
 
 When we came to observe him more nearly 
 we saw he was a man of five or six and thirty 
 or thereabouts, with a neglected fine face, intel-
 
 AN OLD STORY. 229 
 
 lectual and strong, but yet as if some strength 
 had evaporated m morbidity, disappointment and 
 discontent. His countenance bore the traces of 
 hard thought, work, care and pain, and in his 
 eyes, when lost in himself, there was a dreamy 
 vagueness wliich gave him a distant resemblance 
 to his poor sister. 
 
 He remained at the cottage through that day 
 and a part of the next, during which Connie and 
 I took possession of Sofona that he might be 
 alone with Edith and aunt Maria; and a very 
 crusty, consequential personage, indeed, we found 
 our companion when released from the immediate 
 control of aunt Maria's eye and authority. But 
 on the third evening Mr. Westmore was gone 
 home again, and we all gathered, as at first, 
 round the tea-table in the long parlour; Edith 
 betraying no more signs of sorrow that he had 
 left her than she had betrayed of joy at his 
 coming. When the nine o'clock dispersion to 
 bed took place, aunt Maria managed to intimate 
 to us, unobserved by the watchful Sofona, that 
 we might sit up later if we wished ; so we 
 availed ourselves of the permission, and stayed
 
 230 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 talking low over the fire until she rejoined us, 
 which we expected she would do. 
 
 We had had no opportunity yet of going, in 
 detail, through any of the momentous events 
 which had happened amongst us since our last 
 visit to Aberford; but aimt Maria would now 
 have us begin and tell her, with minutest par- 
 ticulars, all we had done and suffered in the 
 interval. Papa's ruin, the death of Philip Massey, 
 the departure for Australia of the boys ; the loss 
 of friends ; the sale of Roseberry ; and the re- 
 tiring to Redcross — she would spare us nothing ; 
 but the reader knows all we had to narrate, so 
 I shall not repeat, but pass on to what she gave 
 us of confidence on her own affairs in return. 
 Connie was very desirous to hear the history of 
 poor Edith's lost life, and the recounting of that 
 led aunt Maria to touch upon several circum- 
 stances which will be further elucidated in the 
 course of these quiet annals of our family. 
 
 She told us that Mr. Westmore the elder 
 had been transported some fourteen or fifteen 
 years before, for forging the name of my uncle 
 Sibthorpe to a power of attorney for the sale
 
 a:n old stoky. 231 
 
 of certain stock which he had converted to his 
 own uses ; his partner, Mr. Jonathan Halbutt, 
 was implicated in the crime, divided the spoil, 
 and shared the punishment ; that, said aunt ]Maria 
 briefly, was the world's account of it ; but her 
 view was widely different. 
 
 The afi'air made a great noise at the time, for 
 frauds perpetrated by men of respectable educa- 
 tion and position were less frequent then than 
 they have unhappily become since, and the crime 
 appeared the more flagrant on Mr. Westmore's 
 part, because, besides being my uncle's man of 
 business, he was also his intimate private friend; 
 their friendship dating ii'om their being boys to- 
 gether at Shrewsbury school. Aunt Maria was 
 on the closest terms with all the Westmore family 
 for years before the dreadful charge fell upon its 
 head : she described Mr. Westmore himself as a 
 rather negligent man in his profession, but of 
 honom'able principles, fine appearance, and most 
 kindly disposition; further, she said, that in his 
 own person he despised luxury, and was more 
 given to the pursuit of science than of money. Of 
 Mr. Jonathan Halbutt she spoke as a showy.
 
 232 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 clever, plausible person, but a knave ingrain, 
 and on him, wholly and solely, she most con- 
 scientiously believed the onus of the crime to 
 rest. An attempt was even made by Mr. West- 
 more's counsel to divert the charge to his partner, 
 but it failed. Both were convicted, Mr. West- 
 more's sentence being transportation for life, Mr. 
 Jonathan Halbutt's for fourteen years. 
 
 Aunt Maria's personal reminiscences of his 
 family after he was sent abroad were most touch- 
 ing. She said they sank below the surface of 
 decent society, which is one of the penalties of 
 crime in this country, and fell into utter poverty. 
 His wife, a fine high-spirited woman, was quite 
 broken down by it, and its consequences were far 
 from ending with her. He had three children. 
 Paul, the eldest, was finishing his education at Ox- 
 ford, preparatory to studying for the bar ; Edith, 
 who was engaged to a junior member of one of the 
 first banking firms in London ; and another son, 
 Francis, who afterwards went to sea in some 
 inferior capacity, and had been quite lost sight 
 of by his family ever since. Edith was an un- 
 commonly handsome, clever, attractive girl, and
 
 AX OLD STORY. 233 
 
 passionately devoted to her father; the agony of 
 his fate preyed upon her mind, her engagement 
 was broken off, and the weight of misery was 
 altogether too much for her to hear ; she sank 
 into a low way, and after much suffering became 
 hopelessly imbecile. 
 
 Upon Paul had, at once, devolved the main- 
 tenance of his mother and sister. He left the 
 university, and his prospects were irretrievably 
 blighted; his previous training was now all but 
 useless to him, and he had difficulty even in 
 obtaining an inferior clerkship. He was a young 
 man of excellent ability and of proudly sensitive 
 temper. He had much to go through. Aunt 
 Maria alluded to an early attachment of his 
 which came to an untimely end like his poor 
 sister's: she told us that after holding his first 
 situation a few months he was suddenly discharged 
 on its beinof found out whose son he was. After 
 that he took the post of usher in a school, gave 
 lessons in the classics; acted as a reporter on 
 the press; and, in fact, exerted hunself at every 
 casual opening to provide for the maintenance 
 of those dependent on him. It was a hard
 
 234 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 struggle ; and, by degrees, they broke off all 
 connection with the few friends who had not 
 abandoned them in their adversity, except with 
 aunt Maria. " There was a community of mis- 
 fortune between ns which made ns forget all 
 shame and fear of each other," said she; "and 
 when dissevered from the rest of the world and 
 lost in the crowds of London, I had always the 
 clue to their retreat." 
 
 What this community of misfortune was she 
 did not explain, but went on to tell us that only 
 within the last year had Edith been separated 
 from her mother and brother. Wherever they 
 had gone, however they had to slave, they had 
 kept the poor soul with them ; and to the con- 
 stant depression of her presence, aunt Maria 
 attributed the morbid state into which Paul him- 
 self had fallen. She had prevailed upon them 
 with the utmost difficulty to commit Edith to 
 her care, if not for a permanency, at least for 
 an interval, that he might have time and oppor* 
 tunity to rally against his growing melancholy 
 before it was too late. Mrs. Westmore's terror 
 for her son inclined her to listen to reason; she
 
 AN OLD STORY. 235 
 
 allowed her poor daugliter to be transferred to 
 Aberford, and a few weeks after, she and Paul 
 abandoned theii' desolate London lodgings for 
 that secluded cottage in the hollow of the down 
 where Connie and I had accidentally seen them. 
 Already, aunt Maria said, the beneficial efibcts 
 of his release from the continual burden of his 
 sister's afflicted state were becoming apparent ; 
 he had spoken to her of certain work that he 
 was doing, and of expectations which he now 
 yentured to entertain in a more hopeful tone 
 than she had heard from him since the great 
 calamity and disgrace of his father's fate had 
 fallen upon him ; and she trusted that if his 
 mother could be induced not to recal Edith, the 
 change and revival of his former courage and 
 spu'it might become permanent, and lead him 
 to the accomphshment of some of the ambitions 
 of his youth. " And once," she added, " he 
 had as generous ambitions and as fair prospects 
 as ever brightened the opening of any man's 
 life." 
 
 I inquired if the elder Mr. Westmore still 
 lived, but she said, no ; he had only survived
 
 236 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 his expatriation four years, but that Mr. Jonathan 
 Halbutt was flourishing in the colony, having 
 long since obtained his pardon. 
 
 '^ It seems so cruel that the crime of one 
 member of a family should be visited on all 
 the rest," said Connie. "What a piteous story 
 it is, aunt Maria ! And you do not believe that 
 Mr. Westmore was guilty after all ? " 
 
 ^^No, my dear, I do not believe that he was 
 guilty. I believe he was the victim of one of 
 those manifold injustices which time has it not 
 in charge to undo. But it is undone now — it is 
 undone now ! If ever man suffered innocent, he 
 did." 
 
 Aunt Maria offered no evidence, no why or 
 because in support of her opinion, but the depth 
 and earnestness of her own faith carried its full 
 weight and impression to our minds. 
 
 " I wish punishment always began and ended 
 with the guilty person," said Connie ; '^ it is very 
 hard to scout the whole flock because there is 
 one black sheep in it. I think Edith's lover 
 ought to have loved her better because she was 
 in trouble, and I do not see any justice in Paul's
 
 AN OLD STORY. 237 
 
 losing his situation because his father was accused 
 of dishonesty." 
 
 " Ah, my pet, a good name is a very precious 
 thing," replied aiuit Maria, sighing; "none of 
 us are willing to bring the suspicion of a taint 
 upon it ; and as we can neither limit nor foresee 
 the consequences of any act, good, bad, or in- 
 different, that we may commit, it is best to steer 
 our course by old-established laws and morals, 
 though feeling must stand by a]id suffer when we 
 do. I take it that there are very few men who 
 would have a cordial welcome for a daughter-in- 
 law whose father was notorious in his own section 
 of the world as a convicted felon ; for though his 
 own family and I vehemently protest that Mr. 
 Westmore was innocent, that is not the view of 
 his other friends. It is easier to fancy ourselves 
 deceived in a man's whole life and character 
 than it is to assert that a judge and jmy have 
 proved an innocent person guilty: and people, 
 in general, will do it. As for punishment ending 
 with the one individual, Connie, all laws, divine 
 and human, are against it. "We can never isolate 
 ourselves so far as to suffer alone ; if we could,
 
 238 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 the sharpest fang of retribution would be 
 drawn." 
 
 Poor old aunt Maria looked as. if she spoke 
 out of the depths of a sorrowful experience of 
 her own. After that she talked no more, and 
 in a little while we said good-night and betook 
 ourselves stealthily to bed, lest Sofona should 
 wake and hear us, and insist on sitting up, too, the 
 next night.
 
 239 
 
 XX. 
 
 TIDIXGS FROM HOME. 
 
 We had been nearly a fortnight at aunt Maria's 
 before we heard from home, but at the end of 
 that time there came a long chatty letter from 
 Ursula, giving us a full and particular account 
 of all her proceedings since we went awaj. She 
 seemed to have been enjoying herself in the highest 
 degree ; almost too much, perhaps, for papa and 
 mamma to have profited as they ought to have 
 done by her being left behind for their com- 
 panion. 
 
 She had driven out and dined twice with 
 Miss Pegge Burnell; she had lunched at Dr. 
 Eden's with papa by Dr. Eden's own special 
 invitation, and had been so much fascinated by 
 some fine paintings that he possessed as to have
 
 240 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 determined ^^ never to draw another line in crayons, 
 but to take up oils at once." She had also attended 
 a Dorcas meeting at the Brown Standons', whom 
 she described as "airified^ fantastical folk, setting 
 up for a family of genius ; " and had walked out 
 daily with either Mrs. Braithwaite or Miss 
 Cranmer, who, she said, were capital company. 
 But the pith of her letter crept out,' as is not 
 unusual with feminine correspondence, in the 
 postscript: 
 
 "Papa has been rather complaining since you 
 went away," she wrote ; " so I persuaded mamma 
 that it would be well to call in Dr. Julius Eden. 
 He has been several times, but he takes care to 
 announce that they are friendly, not professional 
 visits, and he always contrives to come quite 
 late in the afternoon, when he has leisure to 
 stay for half an hour. You cannot think how 
 pleasant he is when he puts off his stiffness and 
 reserve ; we have delightful book chats together, 
 and he has just lent me to read a work after> 
 Doris's own heart, Une Voyage autour de ma 
 Chamhre, by Xavier de Maistre. He is certainly 
 the person here best worth knowing; at Rose-
 
 TIDIXGS FROM HOME. 241 
 
 berry I used to affirm that the barristers were 
 the most agreeable class of men, but I think 
 now I should give it in favour of the doctors." 
 
 A scrap note from mamma enclosed in the 
 lengthier document, set our minds at rest about 
 papa, who was much as usual, she said ; Ursula 
 had fidgeted him and herself until they fancied 
 that something was amiss, but Dr. Julius Eden 
 had not thought it requisite to prescribe. 
 
 ^^ I wish," said Connie impatiently, '^ Ursie 
 would leave off her tricks of exacrgeratincr ; it 
 wiU almost worry mamma to death if she constantly 
 suggests to her to be anxious about papa. It 
 is very kind and sensible of Dr. Julius Eden 
 to say there is nothing the matter. I do not 
 beheve anything is the matter, unless Ursie lets 
 him go without his reading aloud of an evening, 
 and then he is sure to grow tired and miserable 
 before bedtime : he always does, and mamma can- 
 not read to him by candle light. I wish I were 
 back at home again, but Ursie promised faith- 
 fully she would not let any of her own work 
 interfere with that. She has perhaps dropped 
 it altogether; I should not be surprised to find 
 
 YOL. L 16
 
 242 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 the mark in Eotlien just where I left it. Poor 
 papa ! but it is too bad of her if she has." 
 
 I suggested to Connie that it was of no use 
 to tease herself with fancying what Ursie's short- 
 comings might be, but her conjectures were dis- 
 covered to be not very wide of the fact when 
 she had the opportunity of testing them. 
 
 After this letter we heard from Ursula more 
 frequently, and in one of her epistles she frankly- 
 said that if aunt Maria wished to detain us beyond 
 the six weeks of our proposed visit we could be 
 very w^ell dispensed with at home; aunt Maria, 
 who expected to read all letters from Redcross, 
 caught at the idea in a moment. 
 
 " It is very kind and thoughtful, indeed, of 
 Ursie," said she, "and if you can be spared, 
 children, I shall be truly thankful to keep you." 
 
 There were two or three ways of looking at 
 Ursula's suggestion, and our view was not in 
 exact accordance with aunt Maria's, but she 
 looked so eagerly anxious for our acquiescence 
 that, on the spur of the moment, I promised 
 that one, if not both of us, would overstay the 
 intended term of our visit, and also if nothing
 
 TIDINGS FEOM HOME. 243 
 
 occurred to prevent it, that I would come to 
 her again for a few weeks in the fall of the 
 year. She thanked me warmly in her gratitude 
 and surprise, and said it would be a kindness 
 beyond what she would have ventured to require 
 from any of us, it would help her through the 
 summer and be quite something to look for- 
 ward to. 
 
 Poor old aunt Maria, this was a most unusual 
 tone for her to take; it was not long, I began 
 to tliink, that kindness to her would be left in 
 the power of any of us; she was very much 
 softened and broken, indeed, as I saw more and 
 more every hour of our stay at Aberford ; but 
 as for giving up what she had undertaken, or 
 even making over the arduous part of her 
 duties to a nurse and beincr contented with 
 superintending their right performance, to that 
 she would not listen for a moment. She would 
 go on until she dropt over her work. '^ There 
 would be time enough to rest by and by," was 
 her answer to every attempt at remonstrance. 
 
 After the first few days we found the mono- 
 tonous routine of our life at Aberford much the 
 
 16—2
 
 244 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 same as in the visits of previous years. Sofona, 
 with all her intellectuality, was crazed and tedious 
 company, and to watch poor Edith's helpless, child- 
 ish form was enough to make the most cheerful 
 person melancholy at times. There was greater 
 variety of books, but unfortunately very few of 
 them were new to us ; the village was one with- 
 out church or great house, belonging to the parish 
 of Sanford, and had absolutely nothing to attract 
 or occupy us. We therefore ate, slept, worked 
 and walked day after day in the same formal 
 groove, until the original six weeks wore to an 
 end. I then wished Connie to go home, but 
 there was a difficulty about her travelling alone, 
 so the matter ended in our staying on together 
 until nearly the end of June; and even then 
 I did not leave aunt Maria without a very irksome 
 sense of self-reproach at doing so. It seemed un- 
 kind to forsake her when there wxre three of us, 
 but she did not view it in that light, perhaps 
 she appreciated now more than formerly, the^ 
 laborious tedium of a life against the grain, 
 and felt that, for the present, we had had 
 enough of it. She said she should expect me
 
 TIDINGS FKOM HO:SIE. 245 
 
 in the late autumn, and with that we took our 
 leave, our spirits rising as we came within scent 
 of the sea breeze again, as the spirits of children 
 rise when thej are released from the durance 
 of school and are on their way home for the 
 holidays.
 
 246 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 IN THE GAY SEASON. 
 
 They were all glad to see us at home again, 
 and Ursula had a hundred and one little incidents 
 to tell us that had happened while we were away ; 
 it seemed that she had been leading almost an 
 adventurous life. We found her especially busy 
 over an elaborate piece of tapestry work which 
 she had undertaken at Mrs. Maurice's instance, 
 for a bazaar that had been recently announced 
 to take place in August in aid of a fund for 
 the restoration of Scarcliffe old church. All the 
 other ladies of the neighbourhood were busy in 
 the same way, and very soon Connie and I, like 
 the rest, found our leisure laid under heavy con- 
 tribution. 
 
 The gay season in Scarcliffe usually began in 
 May, and was supposed to attain its meridian during
 
 IX THE GAY SEASON. 247 
 
 the months of July, August, and September. Red- 
 cross, during the earlj years of our residence 
 there, could not be said to have blossomed yet 
 into the dignity of having any season, but it 
 was already betraying tokens of latent germina- 
 tion. We had no weekly paper to publish our 
 list of company, .but at our old original bazaar 
 those who were ambitious of notoriety might 
 inscribe their distinguished names to be read and 
 inquired over by the settled inhabitants of the 
 place, whose mild and innocent excitement it was 
 daily to inspect the record of bad autographs 
 in black lead pencil which lay exalted on the 
 tall desk near the doorway. I believe it was 
 rather interesting to us to learn that Mr. Arthur 
 Smith, wife and family, had exchanged Claphara 
 Rise for West Chffe ; that Mr. Claude Sepia 
 was staying at Beacon Hill Cottage ; that the 
 Misses Wearybout were reviving their roses at 
 Elm Grove, and that Mrs. Major Calverly was 
 to be found at Rock Savage. In the absence 
 of other excitement it is notorious how much 
 conversation can be got out of such immense 
 facts as these in a little provincial community;
 
 248 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and in this respect Redcross was no whit behind 
 its contemporaries. 
 
 We became speculative on the number, ages 
 and dispositions of the Arthur Smith progeny; 
 we were anxious to learn on what kind of picture 
 Mr. Claude Sepia was at work, and read Tlie 
 Times critique upon his last, as exhibited at 
 the Royal Academy, with as deep an interest as 
 if we possessed the honour of his personal acquaint- 
 ance, which we did not, only knowing him by 
 sight at church as a rather good-looking young 
 man with roving eyes and an amazed head of iron- 
 grey hair. The three Misses Wearybout excited 
 our commiserating wonder; three middle-aged 
 young ladies who would not grow old they were. 
 Through what emotions, flirtations, hopes, fears, 
 joys, disappointments, must they have been shuffled 
 by the cool hand of time ere they could have 
 got their jaded, battered, eager look; three old 
 young faces, narrow, dry, restless, carved into 
 stereotyped smiles of defunct fascination, crowned 
 by faded yellow hair and cheap fashionable bonnets. 
 Oh ! for a fountain of Jouvence to restore to them 
 their early bloom, or for a draught of Lethe to
 
 IN THE GAY SEASON. 249 
 
 make them forget past triumphs and give them 
 courage to look at the near future when they 
 must be old whether they will or no. And 
 Mrs. Major Calverly in her magnificence^ fair 
 and comely, rich and widowed, who was said to 
 beat her maid and pinch her button-boy, and 
 never to pay a bill without a piece of work, 
 she also was a fruitful source of talk. Was her 
 husband m the Queen's or the Company's service ? 
 Was he K.C.B., or would he have been tried by 
 court-martial, but for his opportune decease ? Did 
 he and Mrs. Major Calverly lead a harmonious 
 life, or, what seemed more probable from popular 
 rumour, the life of unequally yoked dog and 
 cat? 
 
 Early in the season thus did we speculate and 
 wonder, but when July began the stream of visitors 
 flowed over us fast and our fancies could no longer 
 stem it. On a simny day it was very cheerful 
 and pleasant to walk on the road between Scar- 
 clifFe and Redcross, to watch the company arrive, 
 and many such a lazy loiter between the Borough 
 Hill and the Burnell Arms had I with papa 
 during that first summer of our sojourn by the
 
 250 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 sea. From the tops of coaches, from the bowels 
 of omnibuses, from vans, from smart barouches, 
 from gallant steeds, from mules, from donkeys, 
 our visitors descended, bent on holiday enjoy- 
 ment and the possession of the best lodgings. 
 
 There came paterfamilias in a suit of neat 
 shepherds' plaid and a chequered straw hat with 
 blue ribbon, looking so fresh, happy and cockney- 
 fied; and materfamillas rather red, anxious and 
 dusty, with a large young brood hanging at her 
 skirts, grouped miscellaneously with a nurse and 
 baby, perambulator, last year's spades, hoops, 
 wheelbarrows, and wagons, which entangled every- 
 body's legs but paterfamilias'; he, shouldering a 
 stick, would expatiate up the road with his nose 
 in the air, snuffing the sea breeze delightedly, 
 and shoving all the visible cares of life upon 
 the broad and comely shoulders of his helpmate. 
 As this charming family passed through the village 
 the door of each empty lodging-house would open 
 to swallow it up; but materfamillas was a pro- 
 vident woman, and a full week before she crossed 
 the threshold of her comfortable villa at High- 
 gate she had settled that she would go to Mrs.
 
 IX THE GAY SEASOX. 251 
 
 Bluff's on the beach, and Mrs. Bluff's, on the 
 beach, engulfs the whole troop accordingly. 
 
 And newly married couples, blessed in each other 
 and in a conviction that not a soul can guess their 
 interesting circumstances, would arrive with the 
 shiniest of luggage, absurdly fancying that they 
 look like staid old folks. Their favourite retreat 
 was into a grove of greenery where was then 
 a lovely old cottage all roses, thatch, jessamine 
 and earwigs, popularly known in Redcross as 
 Honeymoon Cottage. When we went down on 
 the shore we used to see their happy young 
 faces again, and to wish them every success with 
 their geological hammers and collections of sea- 
 weed and anemones ; and to wonder whether, in 
 the course of years, they would attain to the 
 comfortable dignity of pater- and mater-familias 
 before described, or whether they would have 
 so many calls from those inevitable tax-gatherers, 
 111 luck and hard measure, that they would give 
 in before time utterly broken and beaten in the 
 sharp struggle how to live. 
 
 The sketching young lady never failed us; 
 she might be seen on the beach any morning
 
 252 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 with a box of moist colours beside lier and a 
 formidable block on her lap. She always appeared 
 as if she were going to do amazing execution, 
 and began by patronizing the prospect with an 
 admiring gaze and a volley of superlatives. 
 Then, upon the spotless paper, she would rapidly 
 develop a corner of hard blue sky, balanced by 
 a corner of dark brown cliff, connected together 
 by an expanse 'of deep green sea, with a boat 
 in the foreground and a very distinct white sail 
 patched with vermilion in the distance. She 
 would show a crew of two men and a boy on 
 board the ship, and paint the name " Seagull " on 
 the boat; and this triumph of art would be ex- 
 hibited to her stay-at-home friends and fervently 
 admired, though I regret to say that it was 
 invariably a cruel libel on both scenery and 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Occasionally too, Redcross was honoured by 
 a little party of professionals who looked more 
 stagey than when on the stage itself; and we 
 had smoke-dried gentlemen, who walked as if 
 they were bent on getting a month's air and 
 exercise compressed into a single week; and
 
 IN THE GAY SEASON. 253 
 
 invalids who came for their last glimpse of the 
 sea^ and would presently go out with the tide 
 into the deep, dark waters ; and poor pairs with 
 little cripples in gocarts ; and obstreperous gentle- 
 men with dogs which ran into the surf and then 
 rushing in amongst nurses and infantry, acted as 
 perambulating shower baths, and caused universal 
 scurry and screaming ; and young ladies in every 
 variety of prettifying and uglifying seaside gear ; 
 and hopeful children — men and women in little — 
 building up their towers and fortifications of sand 
 to be washed down by the first wave, as many 
 of their future labours would, ten to one, be 
 washed down by floods of adverse circumstance. 
 
 Yery mournful faces met us too, sometimes 
 faces of widows, and fatherless children, and son- 
 less mothers — widows, and fatherless children and 
 sonless mothers of men whose names all the world 
 knows on the sad eastern battle rolls of death 
 
 As it appeared to me there was a charming 
 freedom fi'om the conventionahties of civilized 
 life developed amongst the mass of seaside holiday 
 folks. They had escaped from the watchful eyes 
 and gossip of intimate society, and could expatiate
 
 254 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 in the locality that did not know them with eman- 
 cipated spirits truly delightful to witness ; there 
 was a frank honesty about their stare, a pleasant 
 lack of responsibility in their ways and demeanour 
 suggestive of the remote periods, before manners 
 were invented, when all the world was natural. 
 
 I remember two old ladies startling us by 
 appearing at the open window when we were 
 sitting at breakfast the second morning after our 
 return from Aberford, and asking if they might 
 pass down our garden to reach the old Grove 
 Fields. We gave them leave, but they did not 
 go away; they stood making complimentary 
 remarks on the scenery in general, and on our 
 cottage and flowers in particular, interspersed 
 with valuable topographical information about 
 their native county, Shropshii'e. They must 
 have been charming conversational women in 
 their own sphere, but we found them incon- 
 veniently obtrusive in ours, for after that fatal 
 permission to go through our garden to the Old 
 Grove Fields, they reappeared continually, making 
 their way to the holly hedge, until Ursula, one 
 day, in spite of mamma's gentle remonstrance.
 
 IN THE GAY SEASON. 255 
 
 sallied forth without bonnet or shawl, turned 
 them back, led them into the lane and beyond our 
 garden limits to the stile at the beginning of 
 the public footpath, and so, as she said, ^^Put 
 an end to them." 
 
 Redcross in its primitive estate, beautiful and 
 pleasant as it was, had still its grievances, which 
 gave our visitors a grumbling safety-valve. Our 
 post came in but once a day, very early in the 
 morning, and was delivered by a boy, who dropt 
 newspapers and letters in the porch and departed 
 rapidly if there was a moment's delay ia answer- 
 ing his summons. We had no shops exactly, 
 but at the post-office we could — if we liked — 
 purchase our family supply of groceries, bacon, 
 eggs, biscuits, tobacco and snuff; also locks, 
 candles, extinguishers, fry^ingpans, curtain rings, 
 buttons, tape, cheap jewellery, Dutch dolls and 
 other miscellaneous commodities ! The post- 
 mistress was a most affable woman, but rather 
 wantinoj in official virtues — which lack led ulti- 
 mately to her displacement in favour of a more 
 punctual, accurate and steady-going widow, who 
 still presides at the office, but only combines the
 
 256 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 sale of a little stationery with her public duties. 
 As for the old original bazaar, I may briefly say 
 that everything the youthful holiday mind could 
 desiderate in the way of toys, boats, carts, drums, 
 trumpets, spades, wheelbarrows, balls and baskets, 
 was there to be found at two hundred per cent, 
 above value. Everything that industrious female 
 fingers delight to ply on rainy days in the way 
 of ornamental needles, pins, hooks, wools, silks 
 and cottons, was also there accumulated ; and a 
 few dusky old romances reposed on the upper 
 shelf, but I am not aware that anybody ever read 
 them. Many useful articles might be procured 
 in this ark of oddments, if purchasers were not 
 in a hurry, and did not mind waiting until they 
 were dug out of the chaos that encumbered 
 every corner of the dark little room ; but if 
 pressed for time it was much the easiest and 
 speediest way of supplying their needs to walk 
 down to Scarcliffe and Mr. Simeon Moore's fancy 
 repository. 
 
 But very few persons ever were in a hurry 
 at Redcross when first I knew it, and most people 
 considered it a duty to some extent to support
 
 IN THE GAY SEAS OX. 257 
 
 native enterprise. Redcross proper was then 
 very genteel and very exclusive, and not having 
 a band or other means of public amusement it 
 was also very humdi'um — for which reason a 
 select few preferred it. 
 
 When the lodgings were all taken, however, 
 Mrs. Willoughby and INIiss Cranmer, who pro- 
 fessed an aversion to the place when desecrated 
 by an influx of strangers, commonly placed their 
 o^y^ houses at the disposal of an agent, for a 
 handsome consideration, and betook themselves to 
 fresh fields and pastures new with their famihes ; 
 but durincr the summer followincr our cominor 
 to Redcross, the Scarchffe church bazaar havincr 
 been extensively advertised with all its contingent 
 attractions, they determined to stay at home 
 until it was over, and, meanwhile, to improve the 
 beautiful weather by as many outdoor parties 
 and picnics as the neighbourhood would bear 
 when reinforced by a few strangers. These 
 entertainments were just about beginning when 
 Connie and I retm-ned from aunt Maria's. 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A STRAWBERRY PARTY. 
 
 The first time we saw Miss Pegge Burnell after 
 onr return from Aberford, she said to Comiie, — 
 
 " The strawberries have been waiting for you 
 ever so long, pretty one ! I told Ursula there 
 should be no garden party at the Priory until 
 you came home, but now hold yourselves in 
 readiness for me the first old English summer 
 day we have ; I only send round to my friends 
 the morning I want them, when I see what the 
 sun has made up its mind to do." 
 * And accordingly, one brilliant morning during 
 the same week there came a single line, " Straw- 
 berry luncheon, two o'clock. Priory," in the old ^ 
 lady's singular hand, an intimation which we 
 were expected to answer in person or not at all. 
 
 I had a strong inclination to stay at home and
 
 A STRAWBERRY PARTY. 259 
 
 be quiet that day, and I should certainly have 
 yielded to my wish, but for Ursula's sharp 
 remonstrances. 
 
 " You are the flattest person in the world, 
 Doris ! " said she, in an accusatory tone ; " and 
 I do believe you are giving way to it, until you 
 will grow perfectly indifferent to everything but 
 your own indolent devices. What is the good 
 of moping? that won't bring back the dead to 
 life. I call it almost wicked of you, flying in the 
 face of Providence, as nurse says. Now, do rouse 
 yourself and go ! " 
 
 So I roused myself and went, it was easier to 
 seem cheerful amongst strangers than it was to 
 stay at home and be worried. 
 
 I think Ursula had a little justice on her side, 
 though it was roughly expressed. My old 
 Thought-Book convicts me by my own confessions 
 of having had a few very, very dreary months at 
 this time. The anniversary of Philip Massey's 
 death had come round, and, somehow, my 
 resignation broke down for awhile, and I went 
 through all the pains of that bereavement again. 
 There was always a touch of the wild beast in 
 
 17—2
 
 260 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 me, when I suffered I liked to hide and suffer 
 in secret. I used to make a pretence of reading 
 quietly to get away to my own room alone, and 
 there I would sit for hours by the open window, 
 looking over to the down, and passively bearing 
 a heavy weight of dull anguish which nothing 
 could lift off. I have a very grateful remembrance 
 of dear Connie at this period ; if she came in upon 
 my solitude she never tried to stir me up, or to 
 reason me out of my unreasonable mood, but she 
 would just put her arm round my shoulder, and 
 make some remark about the soft landscape which 
 the window framed like a picture, and after 
 standing quiet a few minutes she would go away 
 without seeming to have seen anything. I cannot 
 pretend to know how it is with other women, but 
 with me the urgence of well-meant consolation in 
 any trouble of mind is just one of the hardest 
 parts of it to bear. Ursie intended kindly when 
 she told me it was no use moping, we could not 
 bring back the dead to life, as if I did not know 
 that ; as if the very nerve of my sorrow were not 
 that string in the heart which echoes to the never, 
 never more of the irreversible decree of death.
 
 A STEAWBEPvRY PARTY. 261 
 
 She complained of my flatness ; the word, as 
 she used it, was fully expressive of what she 
 meant. My powers of enjoyment had fallen to 
 a very low level, indeed ; it was now irksome to 
 me to go into any society ; if I v\'ent out it was 
 as a duty that was to be done, and done with as 
 quickly and quietly as possible. I was often 
 disappointed in myself, because I cared so little 
 for any of the things beyond the four walls of 
 home, which once interested me so warmly ; every 
 exertion was a bm'den, every change a trouble 
 to me. IMy nearest approach to being happy was 
 when I had a new book after my own heart, a 
 comfortable lounmno;-chair in the sunshine or 
 beside the fire, and the rest of them in the room 
 too busy amongst themselves to be observant of 
 me. If we do not care for certain things any 
 more, trying to care will not make us care, and 
 probably everybody's idea of what it is to be 
 happy, and what it is to enjoy, is different from 
 his neighbours, and different from his own, too, 
 at each stage of life. My early visions of happi- 
 ness combined very much larger elements than 
 peace and quietness, books and warmth, as I
 
 262 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 suppose all young people's should ; but my 
 individual life of later years has rested in tolerable 
 content on those moderate means of satisfaction. 
 Perhaps, in the end, it comes to no more than 
 this, that when we have undergone our share of 
 excitement, of active doing and suffering, the 
 elasticity of feeling is so far relaxed, that thence- 
 forward it reposes on dulness, as tired limbs, after 
 a long race, will repose on the hard ground and 
 find it luxury. 
 
 Spasmodic struggles after pleasure which we 
 have lost the power of enjoying, are the painfullest 
 efforts of humanity. I would not, and I could 
 not make them, though mossy dulness had over- 
 grown me, heart and brain. I took refuge, as 
 so many do, in books, and blessed, say I, are the 
 writers thereof. What unredeemable debts of 
 gratitude the world has incurred to some of them ! 
 Books accommodate themselves to every variety 
 of temper; silent friends to calm and comfort, 
 never to misconstrue, or vex or challenge you. 
 If they moralize, they do it without any special 
 personal point ; if they preach, it is in moderation ; 
 if they bore, the remedy is in our own hands to
 
 A STRAWBEERY PARTY. 263 
 
 lay them down^; if tliey stir the slumbrous brain 
 with great ^thoughts, it is so much pure gain ; if 
 they warm the^ chilled heart with generous feelings, 
 still it is gain ; if they fire the di^eamy soul with 
 noble emulation, it is ever and ever golden gain ; 
 so I say once more in my dulness and my gratitude, 
 blessed be the writers of books ! 
 
 But this is not Miss Pegge Burnell's strawberry 
 party. 
 
 "Connie will be far too conspicuous," Ursula 
 whispered to^me, with an air of discontent, as we 
 were crossing the old Grove Fields on our way 
 to the Priory, the little one being in advance and 
 out of hearing ; " far too conspicuous." 
 
 " How ? " I inquired, for she was only dressed 
 in a clear white muslin, with a scarf like it, and 
 the simplest of straw hats. 
 
 Ursula could not explain, but she said she knew 
 what she meant, and without further allusion to 
 the abstruse point, we reached the Priory Lodge 
 and walked up the beautiful avenue to the terrace, 
 which was already as gay as a flower-show, with 
 Miss Pegge Burnell's assembled guests. We met 
 and exchanged greetings vrith several of our
 
 264 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 acquaintance before we discovered our hostess, 
 but, at length, we found her sitting just within 
 the conservatory door, surrounded by a select 
 knot of friends. She welcomed us gaily, especially 
 Connie, to whom she said, — 
 
 "Come here, pretty one, you are to be my 
 queen rose to-day," and she detained her there 
 beside her, when Ursula and I moved away to 
 speak to others whom we knew. 
 
 " Miss Pegge Burnell ought to have more sense 
 than to flatter Connie to her face," Ursula 
 remarked disapprovingly. '^It would make an 
 angel conceited to be called always ^ pretty one,' 
 and Connie has far too strong a tendency that 
 way to escape unharmed, her head is more than 
 half turned already. Queen-rose, indeed ! I am 
 sure there are many finer figures of women here 
 at this moment, than she is or ever will be." 
 
 I would not enter into so unprofitable a dispute, 
 and therefore held my peace until we encountered 
 Mr. Maurice and his kind wife, who engaged me 
 in conversation, while Ursula joined herself to 
 Miss Cranmer, with whom was that disagreeable 
 Mr. Tom Claridge of whom previous mention has
 
 A STRAWBEKEY PAliTY. 265 
 
 been made. They were soon launclied into a very 
 lively and rather loud discussion, which presently 
 attracted the notice of Mrs. Maurice ; she observed 
 them in silence for a moment or two, and then 
 said with an expression of as much disgust as her 
 gentle face was capable of assuming : 
 
 "I think if your sister Ursula knew the 
 character of the man to whom she is talking, she 
 would exercise a little more reserve. Warn her, 
 my dear, it is to no girl's advantage to encourage 
 the intimacy of Mr. Tom Claridge. Miss Cranmer 
 is a woman of the world and old enough to choose 
 her own company, but Ursula is too inexperienced 
 to be left entirely to her lack of discrimination." 
 
 ^^ Mr. Tom Claridge is a loose fellow without 
 either conduct or principle," added the rector, in 
 an austere tone. " Such a man has no business 
 to appear amongst innocent women and children. 
 I am surprised our old friend should have invited 
 Mm." 
 
 " Perhaps she did not invite him, he is staymg 
 at Sir William's, and may have taken advantage 
 of their card," suggested Mrs. Maurice. "Miss 
 Pegge Burnell promised he should never darken
 
 266 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 her doors again. Mrs. Tom Claridge is at her 
 father's too, but I don't see her here, or either 
 of the children." 
 
 Just then came up the curate, Mr. Stewart, 
 to ask where was Miss Martha, and I turned 
 aside to speak to the Layels who were passing by. 
 Miss Kitty, the fair-haired one, had a little girl 
 by the hand, a pupil of her own, as she told me, 
 and the eldest of four that she taught, children of 
 a lady who had taken a house at Redcross for the 
 summer. I w^as glad to hear that she had obtained 
 some teaching, and as I had understood that both 
 the sisters were governesses, I asked the other 
 if she had been equally successful, to which she 
 replied that, at present, she did not intend to take 
 any pupils ; and then, as they, like myself, seemed 
 to have more taste for the pretty glades of the 
 park, than for the gay company on the terrace, 
 we went down the broad flights of steps, and 
 strolled away towards the cHff. We had not gone 
 far, however, when we were overtaken by a noisy 
 little boy, Avho brought us a message to the effect 
 that we were not to go out of sight until after 
 luncheon, when we remembered the straw-
 
 A STEATVBERRY PARTY. 267 
 
 berries — ostensible object of the gathering — and 
 leisurely retraced our steps. 
 
 It appeared that these entertainments were very 
 popular amongst Mss Pegge Bumell's friends, 
 and that even strangers, whose names were 
 inscribed at the library, were permitted on pre- 
 sentation of a card, this opportunity of rangincr 
 over the Priory grounds, which at all other times 
 were strictly private. Her acquaintance was both 
 extensive and miscellaneous, and in her desii'e to 
 extend hospitahty to all, Lliss Pegge Burnell had 
 originated these strawberiy luncheons, which 
 took place at the Priory once a fortnight as long 
 as there was any fruit left to give them a name. 
 These were quite gala days for the children of 
 her friends, who were served with an early dinner 
 to themselves, while their elders enjoyed the 
 provision made elsewhere for them. Pleasanter 
 gatherings could not be. There was the Scarcliffe 
 town band playing their best pieces on the la^Ti 
 to give them an air of fete; those who, like 
 ^Irs. Peacocke, dreaded being brought in close 
 contact with ineligible people, had ample space 
 and opportunity for bo"v\-ing a cool recognition
 
 268 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 and escaping ; and those who were glad to meet 
 with simple friends whom they might never meet 
 elsewhere were gratified too. I remember that 
 day seeing the old Earl and Countess Calcedon, 
 who had brought a noisy troop of grandchildren 
 over to enjoy themselves, holding a long talk with 
 poor Miss Alworthy, a super animated governess, 
 once in the family, but now residing at Lady 
 Betty's Home, — an asylum for reduced gentlewo- 
 men founded in Redcross towards the close of the 
 last century^ by the Lady Betty Pegge Burnell ; 
 and Miss Alworthy would be all the happier for 
 that kindly condescension for many a day to come. 
 When we regained the terrace we found that 
 most of the visitors had entered the house in 
 quest of refreshments; Miss Pegge Burnell was 
 just issuing from the conservatory, assisted by 
 a white-bearded gentleman whom I did not 
 know; Connie and Dr. Julius Eden were close 
 behind, and with them a gay bevy of young 
 people laughing and talking merrily. Dr. Julius 
 came down to speak to me, and then we all passed 
 through the hall, pausing there a moment while 
 Miss Pegge Burnell and her solemn- visaged butler
 
 A STRAWBERRY PARTY. 269 
 
 exchanged a few energetic words, and so forward 
 into the drawing-room, where the first persons I 
 noticed were 'Mr. Tom Claridge, Miss Cranmer, 
 and mj sister Ursula, still engaged in famihar 
 conversation. 
 
 Mr. Tom Claridge instantly detached himself 
 and came forward to meet Miss Pegge Burnell 
 with an air of perfect assurance and self-satisfac- 
 tion ; but the old lady protruded her nether lip, 
 overlooked his outstretched hand, and said, with 
 the utmost distinctness and deliberation, ^"'Mr. 
 Tom Claridge, my servant Quennell is waiting 
 at the door with a message for vou." 
 
 He looked puzzled for a moment, but Miss 
 Pegge Burnell's expression of countenance pro- 
 bably enlightened him as to her meaning, for 
 a dull red sufiused his face and he left the room 
 hurriedly. As he did not reappear either then 
 or in the gardens afterwards, I conjecture that 
 Quennell's message was a standing order from 
 his mistress to exclude Mr. Tom Claridge from 
 the Priory whenever he should be hardy enough 
 to present himself there. Certain persons who 
 overheard his dismissal cast furtive, significant
 
 270 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 glances at each other, but some looked very much 
 astonished, as my sister Ursula, for instance, who 
 knew no adequate reason for it. His absence, 
 however, was not a source of regret to any of 
 those who were better informed, unless it were 
 Miss Cranmer, who afterwards remarked to some 
 of her acquaintance that such behaviour as Miss 
 Pegge Burnell's might do for the country, but 
 she should like to know what would be thought 
 of a lady in London who should open her doors 
 to all her friends without distinction of class, 
 and then turn a gentleman out because his private 
 life was not quite puritanical. When I communi- 
 cated Mrs. Maurice's observations to Ursula, she 
 was equally vexed and dismayed to learn that 
 she should have been remarked on as displaying 
 a frank cordiality towards a person whose repu- 
 tation was so notoriously evil that a liberal-minded 
 woman like Miss Pegge Burnell had publicly 
 avowed and executed her determination to close her 
 doors in his face ; and she promised herself forth- 
 with never to be seen speaking with him again. 
 
 After this little incident all the company gra- 
 dually dispersed themselves through the library and
 
 A STRAWBEERY PARTY. 271 
 
 dining-rooms, where the tables were spread for 
 luncheon ; up-heaped crystal dishes of the vermeil 
 fruit which gave it its refreshing name, each flanked 
 with a jug of cream, figuring most conspicuously 
 down the centre of each. Everybody was in high 
 good-humour, and inclined to be happy without 
 formality or tedious ceremony ; and after the 
 luncheon was over they trooped forth again into 
 the sunshine and set the children to dance on 
 the grass to the music of the band. Some of 
 the grown up children presently joined in, Connie 
 with Dr. Julius amongst the rest, and while she 
 was afterwards telling me how much she had en- 
 joyed it, up came Miss Theodora Bousfield, and 
 tapping her on her pretty chin with a bit of 
 myrtle she had in her hand, said pleasantly, 
 " Child, I shall be jealous of you, you have 
 stolen my friend away from me ; give an account 
 of what you have done with him?" Connie an- 
 swered with a rosy, half-conscious blush, "Who 
 did she mean ? " on which Miss Theodora echoed 
 " who?" with significant emphasis, and then turned 
 off to rejoin some other friends whom she had 
 quitted to speak to us.
 
 272 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 I forbore to look at Connie just then, but I 
 could not help hoping her serious days were yet 
 a year or two distant ; and while I was thinking 
 and speculating within myself over the train of 
 possibilities Miss Theodora Bousfield's light words 
 had suggested, Dr. Julius came up and claimed 
 Connie again, telling her she must remember she 
 had been put under his charge by Miss Pegge 
 Burnell to be amused throughout the afternoon. 
 
 «^ But 5^ou went away and left me standing by 
 myself in the middle of the last figure," replied she. 
 
 " Somebody came and whispered that somebody 
 else was hurt, but happily it tm-ned out to be a 
 false alarm : so now, if you do not know all the 
 ins and outs of the Priory grounds, let me be 
 your guide ; I think I am familiar with every 
 tree and stone about the place." 
 
 " I will go if Doris will come too," Connie said 
 cheerfully; so we set out together, a party of 
 three, and, after traversing the park, went up 
 through a beautiful grassy glade in the woods 
 behind the Priory towards a grotto which Miss 
 Pegge Burnell had had constructed on what she 
 esteemed the finest point of view about the place.
 
 A STRAWBERRY PARTY. 273 
 
 The footpath was not ^^dde enough for more than 
 two persons, and I instinctively dropt behind, 
 leaving Dr. Julius and Connie to go on together. 
 I had companionship enough, however, in the 
 disquieting thoughts for which Miss Theodora 
 Bousfield was mainly answerable, and I wished 
 in my heart, most sincerely, that she had exer- 
 cised her toncrne with a httle more discretion. 
 
 o 
 
 Then I looked out of my mmd at the pair 
 before me, and vaguely wondered and hoped 
 more than it would be possible to confess. Child 
 — I might call Connie child if I would, and so, 
 in one sense she was, and would be all her days 
 if child be synonymous with innocent candour and 
 unsuspicious affectionateness of disposition, but 
 in another she was certainly beginning to have 
 feelings, fancies, and dreams quite other than 
 those of children — fancies, feelings, and dreams, 
 in fact, such as tend to the unconscious blooming 
 of girlhood and womanhood. 
 
 Dr. Julius Eden, for anything I could tell, 
 might have feelings, fancies, and dreams too, 
 but he did not look like it. He was not a 
 person to be kno^vn in one, tr^'o, or half a dozen 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 meetings. He bore a very good personal and 
 professional reputation in ScarclifFe and Redcross, 
 both on his o^Ml account and because he was his 
 uncle's nephew; he was an acceptable person in 
 society, though he was rather reserved and not 
 remarkably gracious. Men all liked him evidently, 
 and women generally professed and exempUfied a 
 respect for him, which probably arose out of his 
 respectful manner towards them. Neither by 
 speech nor act had I ever kno^vii him imply an 
 ill-natured, contemptuous, or ungenerous senti- 
 ment about them, though his profession and his 
 age, for he was just thirty, must have given him 
 as many opportunities of knowing the sex as men 
 can commonly boast. Giddy girls stood in whole- 
 some awe of him ; discerning, perhaps, that their 
 kittenish airs and graces were wasted on a grave 
 physician, who regarded their pranks indulgently 
 as if he saw quite through them, and was wise 
 enough to make every allowance for the super- 
 abundant vivacity of some young temperaments 
 escaping in this volatile essence of laughter, frolic, 
 and flirting. The liveliest damsel would hardly 
 have been tempted to take a liberty mth him.
 
 A STRAWBEREY PARTY. 275 
 
 but, I believe, at the same time, the weakest and 
 most erring would have found in him a merciful 
 judge. 
 
 Authentic gossip had some time before apprised 
 me of the real terms on wliich Dr. Julius stood 
 towards Miss Theodora Bousfield. There was no 
 engagement bet\Yeen them, and there never had 
 been, but that was not for any want of his wishing 
 it. Miss Theodora had been his first love; as a 
 boy of twenty he had conceived an enthusiasm of 
 passion for her, which, under her judicious treat- 
 ment, had toned do^^Ti, at last, into a genial, 
 friendly alliance. She was nearly ten years 
 older than himself, and had gone through her 
 own tragedy while he was bowling a hoop in 
 his round jacket ; so she said to him : " Don't let 
 us quarrel, Julius, you will be grateful to me by 
 and by for saying no ; " and, at this epoch, he 
 had probably attained to the state of mind she 
 had generously predicted for him. 
 
 She was a handsome, distinguished-looking 
 woman still; dark-browed, soft-eyed, and volup- 
 tuous ; her form was tall, massive, and stately, 
 and she had a perfect air of well-bred ease. 
 
 18—2
 
 276 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Twenty years before, if she had gone upon the 
 stage, she might have made her fortune; but, 
 being condemned to the sober decorums of private 
 life, she had missed it. She had been extremely 
 admired in her youth, and had had many lovers 
 of a degree above her owii; even now she was 
 more courted and spoilt than most girls in their 
 freshness. She was the most naturally charming, 
 fascinating woman I ever knew ; nobody but 
 Monsieur De St, Beuve could have done her 
 biography justice ; I do not know the true 
 details of her life, though they were a perennially 
 reviving source of Redcross gossip ; but there was 
 a record in cipher on her face, a history and a 
 secret v»^hich, if interpreted, would be assuredly 
 a thrilling tale of passion and struggle, such as 
 few pass through and live. 
 
 I had allowed my meditations to carry me 
 quite up into the clouds, for Connie had to give 
 me a gentle little shake, to bring me back to the 
 contemplation of the beautiful prospect when we 
 reached the grotto. 
 
 " Don't you hear, Doris ? those are the Erl- 
 stone woods; you were wishhig a few days ago
 
 A STEAWBEERY PARTY. 277 
 
 that we could walk there," said she, pointing to 
 a dark tract of undulating forest country, which 
 lay inland over beyond Avonmore. 
 
 ^^Erlstone is eight miles off; too far for ladies' 
 walking," interposed Dr. Julius. 
 
 " I could do it in a long day, but, perhaps, it 
 would be too much for Doris," Connie rejoined. 
 
 '^ It would be too much for either of you, and 
 I beg you will not attempt it," urged the doctor 
 imperatively. 
 
 "I can walk ten miles without feeling at all 
 overtired," persisted Connie. 
 
 Dr. JuHus, perhaps, perceived that the little 
 one made rather a strong point of her pedestrian 
 powers, for he asked with a quizzical air : " Are 
 you getting into training to trot over Europe in 
 the track of those unprotected ladies who ha^'e 
 been chronicling their adventures of late ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " quoth Connie, curling her 
 daint)' lip. 
 
 " With a stout little pair of Balmorals and a 
 blue ugly you might achieve as much as the most 
 enterprising." 
 
 *^When you are out on your next physician's
 
 278 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 holiday, perhaps you may meet me in that trim," 
 said she, falling into his vein. 
 
 " I shall regard you with a most respectful 
 awe. I know no type of woman so terrible as 
 the strong-minded, able-bodied pedestrian who 
 lays hold of all the rights of our sex, and shelters 
 them under the privileges of her own. In Norway 
 I had to share my supper, and resign my com- 
 fortable bespoken bed to one, and to listen, more- 
 over, to her feats in the way of climbing and 
 riding, which quite surpassed my own. I had a 
 bad cold at the time, and she was in a state of 
 boisterous health; much better able to sleep on 
 impromptu sacks and straw than myself, but she 
 had not the grace to say so and do it." 
 
 "That was very inconsiderate and selfish of 
 her. I will remember not to behave so ill to 
 any invalid with whom I may fall in on my 
 travels. But I think seriously a pedestrian tour 
 must be very delightful, don't you. Dr. Julius ? " 
 
 " Yes, in fine weather and pleasant company — 
 much depends on your company. My first excur- 
 sion abroad I made with my cousin. Jack Trevor, 
 a young fellow, who behaved capitally so long as
 
 A STKAWBERRY PARTY. 279 
 
 we were in civilized regions ; but when we got 
 out of the circle of bitter beer, he became intoler- 
 able. This unforeseen difficulty cut our tour a 
 fortnight shorter than we intended, and I have 
 taken care since not to engao^e with any friend 
 so susceptible of thirst as to be capable of turning 
 Ms back on the finest scenery of the Pp-enees 
 for the sake of his beloved drink." 
 
 " Checks and disappointments vrould hardly 
 come to me in that shape," said Connie; "nervous 
 terrors and fears of cold would be more probable." 
 
 "Very real evils both, Miss Connie, though 
 your imagination may not play you tricks, and 
 you may not be shy of reclining in pretty, damp, 
 shady nooks." 
 
 "No need to recKne in pretty, damp, shady 
 nooks. Dr. Julius," replied she, with a touch of 
 lauCThincf sarcasm ; " can we not bend do^^ii the 
 bough of a tree and perch on that, or go right 
 into the middle of a furze-bush if we are over- 
 taken by fatigue on a moor ? " 
 
 "'It is vain to deny any longer that you are 
 training for an unprotected tour I " 
 
 "Indeed, I think the person who knows no
 
 280 WAEP AND VfOOF. 
 
 alternative between reclining in pretty, damp, 
 shadj nooks, or going on till lie drops, would be 
 in the unprotected position. Doris, do you con- 
 sider that Dr. Julius Eden shows as much resource 
 and adaptability to circumstances as I do with 
 regard to pedestrian touring ? " 
 
 '' Miss Connie, I see you are up to anything 
 from a game at cricket to climbing Mont Blanc!" 
 retorted he. 
 
 " No, no," said Connie, in a deprecating tone ; 
 ^^ I have never played cricket since I was four- 
 teen ; mamma made me give it up then, because 
 the boys were too rough for me ; but I plead 
 guilty to having liked it though it might be 
 lioydenish." 
 
 ^^Not at all; I have no prejudice against girls 
 engaging in active games out of doors ; evidently 
 the practice has conduced to nothing but good 
 health in your case ; girls may exercise their 
 muscles Avithout unsexing themselves. I thought 
 I heard some one call." 
 
 We listened, and presently heard my sister 
 Ursula's voice at a little distance, summoning 
 Connie and me by name.
 
 A STRAWBEKEY PARTY. 281 
 
 "Thej are here in the grotto," Dr. Jiilius 
 answered. 
 
 We all left our shelter and went out into the 
 glade, and, looking upwards, saw Ursula with 
 Mrs. Peacocke and ^Ir. Barston making their 
 waj down to us bj a steep zigzag from the top 
 of the wood, ^hen they joined us, Ursula asked 
 where we had been, saying she had sought us 
 everywhere ; for it was nearly six o'clock, and 
 everybody else was gone. Dr. Julius looked at his 
 watch, remarked that it was later than he thought, 
 but the time had flown ; and then he bade us all 
 a hasty good-bye on the plea of having to call 
 upon Captain "WiUoughby before he went home 
 to dinner." 
 
 " I need not ask if you have had a pleasant 
 afternoon; you looked in the seventh heaven of 
 enjo}Tnent when we caught you," Ursula observed 
 with austere significance, as we were returning 
 home after taking leave of Mrs. Peacocke and 
 Mr. Barston. 
 
 " It has been a very nice party ; I wish we 
 may have some more of the same kind," said 
 Connie calmly.
 
 282 WAKP AND WOOF. 
 
 " Umph ! " cried Ursula in a sudden burst of 
 temper, which took us both by surprise. " I shall 
 ask mamma whether you are to be allowed to 
 make yourself such an object of general obser- 
 vation wherever you go as you did to-day ! " 
 
 Connie mth infinite discretion immediately 
 quickened her steps and conveyed herself out 
 of hearing, leaving me to bear the brunt of the 
 attack alone. I tried to stave it off by saying 
 persuasively, — 
 
 '*Now, Ursie, don't be foolish. You know in 
 your heart that you are unjust to Connie. I 
 am sure the most injurious remark that anybody 
 could make on her to-day must have been that 
 she is a very pretty girl." 
 
 " How do you know ? I have spoken to many 
 more persons than you have." 
 
 ^' Then can you honestly affirm that one 
 amongst the many used expressions to her dis- 
 advantage ? " 
 
 " Yes, I can. I overheard the old Countess 
 Calcedon ask Miss Theodora Bousfield who she 
 was, and when Miss Theodora told her, she rephed 
 that Connie was ^ very animated' — and we all
 
 A STRAWBERRY PARTY. 283 
 
 know what people mean, when they say a girl 
 is very animated; they mean that she forgets 
 herself, and lets her spirits run away yd\h. her." 
 
 " I was not aware of that perversion of terms," 
 said I ; " anything more ? " 
 
 " Then for what she did — Dr. Julius Eden 
 was set to dance with her, I am sure against his 
 inclination ; for what can a clever man Hke him 
 find of amusement in a girl hardly out of the 
 schoolroom ?. and if he consulted his dignity as 
 a physician a little more, it would be as well ; 
 I don't know whether doctors have any better 
 right to dance than clergymen. Yet there was 
 he figuring away amongst a parcel of riotous 
 children ! But, as I was saying — he was set to 
 dance with Connie, and before they had gone 
 through the first figm'e, somebody called him 
 away to look at one of the little Calcedon tribe, 
 who had contrived to tumble, and fancy herself 
 killed, and what must Connie do, but turn round 
 to Mr. Charles Maurice, who was looking on, 
 and ask him to finish the quadrille with her. 
 Now, I call that a great piece of forwardness." 
 " Charitable people will pardon it, Ursie ; and
 
 284 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Charles Maurice is a frank, gentlemanlike young 
 fellow, who would oblige her very willingly." 
 
 ^' Too willingly by half — he coloured up to the 
 roots of his hair with delight ! Have you never 
 noticed how he stares at her at church ! I have 
 seen his sister Martha give him a poke to make 
 him look at his book many a time. A very little 
 encouragement, and he will be over head and 
 ears in love with her, if he is not so already." 
 
 " Then Connie does not know it." 
 
 '' Does she not ? She knows very well who 
 likes her, and she is as winning to them as ever 
 she can be." 
 
 " Then she cannot help it," returned I roused 
 and angry. 
 
 '^ Cannot help it! a pretty excuse, indeed! Then 
 she must be taught to help it," was the imperative 
 answer. " At all events I shall speak to mamma 
 about it ; for something must be done, or she 
 will turn out a thorough-paced coquette." 
 
 "You might just as well say she will turn out 
 a thorough- paced peacock ! " cried I, utterly 
 past my patience. "There is not a spark of 
 coquetry in her disposition. She is as good and
 
 A STEAWBERPtY PARTY. 285 
 
 modest a girlj as ever breathed : and it is wicked, 
 Ursie, yes, icicJced and despicable to insinuate a 
 word to the contrary ! " 
 
 "That is your opinion — I know you are as 
 blind as a bat to her vanity, but papa and mamma 
 are wiser, and I shall appeal to them." 
 
 "Which she did that evening in Connie's 
 absence, ^vith great emphasis and solemnity. 
 Both heard her to the end in silence, and then 
 papa replied with sai'castic deliberation, — 
 
 " It would be good news to hear that you were 
 yourself as much a favourite as the little one, 
 Ursie. I find it to her credit that Dr. Julius 
 Eden cultivates her acquaintance — he is a man of 
 sense and honour, and he has my leave to do it.*'^ 
 
 Ursula coloured and looked puzzled for a. 
 moment, and then she exclaimed prophetically 
 that though it might be all very well to treat 
 her warning with indifference 7ioi'j, she was much 
 mistaken if we had not S07ne day occasion to 
 repent it. Connie's thirst for admiration was 
 excessive ; of course, if every one combined to 
 encourage her, she could not be expected to 
 mend — but it was of no consequence, and she
 
 286 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 did not care ! And then slie began to cry, 
 and vehemently aver that it was all my fault, 
 and that, but for me, she never should have 
 spoken on the subject at all; but I was for 
 ever irritating her by setting up Connie as so 
 much her superior — at which point of unreason 
 her accusations broke down in a gust of sobs, 
 and she rushed out of the room declaring that 
 nothing should now prevent her taking a situation, 
 and leaving home, where she was as miserable 
 as the day was long. 
 
 But by the morning she had recovered 
 her calm, and forgotten her resolution, and we 
 were all too glad to bury the bones of dissension, 
 to betray in anj-^vise that we had more tenacious 
 memories.
 
 287 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 DIDACTIC. 
 
 Ukstila's persistent fault-finding with Connie set 
 me, at last, on attempting to discover some more 
 noble motive and source for it tlian those of 
 common feminine vanity and jealousy. I asked 
 myself, could she have conceived for Dr. Julius 
 Eden any of those tender sentiments which 
 are apt to make women A^ilfully unjust to each 
 other? But when I consulted with myself ever 
 so earnestly, I could not say that she had yielded 
 to love unsought. In fact, Ursula was not very 
 susceptible of aflFectionate impressions, and there 
 was not a gi'ain of passion in all her composition. 
 Her likings and dislikings — especially the latter — 
 were often expressed with vehemence of language, 
 but as nurse Bradshaw used to observe pacifically 
 when we were little, ^^ Ursula's bark was always
 
 288 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 worse than her bite," and after detesting a person 
 with abundance of epithets one day, she would 
 meet them the next with every appearance of 
 friendliness. 
 
 She certainly liked to talk of Dr. Julius, and 
 even to intimate that he was civil to her beyond 
 common civility, but I never could detect a single 
 sign of preference myself; on the contrary, I 
 should have said that he occasionally indulged 
 himself in a little grave quizzing at the expense 
 of her somewhat obtrusively worn wisdom. 
 
 Hitherto we had only met him on the level 
 of a friendly acquaintance, and I felt keenly 
 though secretly annoyed that his name should 
 have been mentioned amongst us in any other 
 sense ; assuredly he had never given the slightest 
 ground for its beino; canvassed and made a source 
 of jealousy and suspicion between my sisters. 
 I must do Connie the justice to say, however, 
 that she had never so used it. She might be 
 sensible, and probably was, that Dr. Julius liked 
 her as most men, I fancy, do like a pretty, 
 pleasant, simple-mannered girl whom they meet 
 in society ; but she had not a froth of light feelings
 
 DIDACTIC. 289 
 
 4 
 
 at anybody's service playing on the surface of 
 
 her character, and she was the last creature in 
 the world to dream herself in love because the 
 occasion was opportune, and an eligible object 
 at hand. She was not a prey, poor Connie, to 
 premature sentimentalisms, but sometimes when 
 I watched the bright, sensitive face, the deep, 
 luminous eyes, the pretty, pretty mouth that 
 would quiver with intensest emotion or close in 
 the steadiest resolve, I have said to myself with 
 a pain of dread and prevision at my heart such 
 as I cannot describe, "Oh, if that child's life 
 gets across with her, what a passionate anguish 
 will she have to endure I *' 
 
 But be sure I kept my fancies and fears to 
 myself while her life was slipping along from day 
 to day unmarked by herself or others. Time 
 enough for the woman-nature to wake up when the 
 rosy dsivra of love is in the sky ; meanwhile, in 
 the undisturbed dreams of innocence let it grov»' and 
 strengthen for whatever peril of passion or tempest 
 of sorrow may await it when the sun becomes 
 hot in the noonday and the restful shadows are 
 all fled away with the toys and tears of youth. 
 
 VOL. T. 19
 
 290 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Though I was silent of speech I could not, 
 however, keep my thoughts in the same subjection 
 as my tongue, and whether I would or no, they 
 began to run very frequently on Dr. Julius, who 
 had become interesting to me from every point 
 of view for Connie's sake since those few careless 
 words of Miss Theodora Bousfield's. There was 
 a little trait of secretiveness in Connie's temper 
 which withheld her from any after allusion either 
 to those significant words or to Ursula's unmeaning 
 attack, but I was not satisfied that she had 
 forgotten them; like myself, it was possible that 
 the less she said the more she thought, and that 
 when she appeared sunk, now and then, in such 
 pretty bro^^Ti studies, she might really be building 
 the most lovely castles in the air that ever rose 
 out of a newly touched imagination. 
 
 I cannot plume myself, as some do, on being 
 a deep discerner of character, but I know dis- 
 tinctly why I like certain persons and why I do 
 710* like certain others ; and elegances of manner 
 never effectually mask from my moral instinct the 
 perversions of heart and brain which express 
 themselves in genial selfishness, in plausible sin-
 
 DIDACTIC. 291 
 
 cerity, in pious hypocrisy, or in sentimental 
 coarseness. When we are past the generous age 
 of believing in all things and trusting in every- 
 body, we cannot help knowing and seeing by 
 glimpses some of the evils that underlie the 
 smooth face of society, and what we never hear 
 put into words, instinct warns us away from 
 when we meet it walking out of its proper 
 atmosphere of darkness ever so decently draped 
 and disguised. For instance — we were equally 
 ignorant of the private life of ]\Ir. Tom Claridge 
 and of Dr. Julius Eden when first we met them, 
 but we needed no worldly-wise monitor to teU 
 us that it was disagreeable to meet the eyes of 
 the former, and that we might be as much at 
 our ease with the latter as if he were a brother 
 of our own. Dr. Julius, indeed, was readily 
 recognizable as a well-bred, well-educated, kind- 
 hearted, high-minded English gentleman; Mr. 
 Tom Claridge had the breeding and education 
 of one, and abundance of native talent and 
 sagacity, but he was like Shakspeare's goodly apple, 
 *^ rotten at the core" — a man from whom modest, 
 sensitive women shrank with absolute avoidance, 
 
 19—2
 
 292 WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Perhaps I need hardly add that he had the 
 worst possible opmion of the sex, and openly 
 espoused the views of some past and gone cynic 
 who said that "women were all alike except 
 their faces." 
 
 But Dr. Julius had now become interesting: to 
 me with respect to the minor morals of temper, 
 stability, kindness, and common sense, as well as 
 with regard to the more broadly distinctive traits 
 of his character. In the matter of temper he 
 was not without quickness, but he kept it well 
 ill hand; for his stability there was testimony 
 enough in his long attachment to Miss Theodora 
 Bousfield ; any poor body in Redcross or ScarclifFe 
 afflicted with special disease would witness grate- 
 fully to his kindness, and his common sense was 
 evident to the meanest capacity in his simple, 
 successful, respected life. He was generous, more- 
 over, and charitable both in word and act; 
 he had some pride of birth and name; he had 
 taste and personal accomplishments; he had 
 travelled, and seen and conversed with many men 
 in many countries and conditions, and was large- 
 minded in every sense of the expression.
 
 DIDACTIC. 293 
 
 But liis character was not without shadows, 
 and deep shadows too. He was determination 
 incarnate. I suppose Dr. Julius Eden would 
 literally have cut off his left hand or plucked out 
 his right eje if it had offended him. He was 
 capable of the deepest, deadliest, most enduring 
 resentments, and his countenance could take such 
 an expression of concentrated contempt as might 
 make the utterly shameless and abandoned shrink 
 before liim. When the goodness of his heart 
 turned to gall, truly it was gall of the bitterest. 
 I believe he would have seen the friend he had 
 trusted or the woman he had loved die at his 
 feet without a word, when a word would have 
 saved them, if they had proved faithless to his 
 confidence. The vehemence of his feelings mostly 
 lay quiescent, but one saw it could wake up 
 lion-like when the occasion came, and when it 
 woke that weaker beings would cower before 
 his strength in abject terror. The just anger 
 of a good man is terrible — whether Dr. Julius 
 Eden was always just I will not say. Now and 
 for some time to come I knew him only as the 
 pleasant acquaintance who frequented my father's
 
 294 WAEP AND WOOF. 
 
 house because lie found its society more or less 
 agreeable; it was not until after certain events, 
 to which I am now coming, had occurred, that 
 I got the key to those darker passions which lay 
 dormant within his heart, waiting their hour and 
 opportunity. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 
 
 LITTLE GBEEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY, B.C.