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 THE MILL WHEEL 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 
 HELEN DICKENS, 
 
 Author of " Wild Wood," &c. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STEEET, CAVENDISH SQUAEE. 
 
 1874 
 [all eights reserved.]
 
 
 THE MILL WHEEL 
 
 r 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 4 
 
 Splash 1 splash ! and the spray flies up, as 
 
 ^ round, round goes the water wheel. Never 
 
 'l^easing day or night, it is like the wheel of 
 
 Life, or the brook which says :- — " Men may 
 
 come and men may go, but I go on for ever." 
 
 ^ Aye, true! Men have gone, and men have 
 
 i -come, joy and sorrow, winter and summer ; 
 
 ^ those who one day watched as I am watching 
 
 ^ow will never watch again : all things are 
 
 ^ changed or silent, but thou, mill wheel, art 
 
 (^ going still ! 
 
 4 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 2 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 There's the very duck, or one just like it, 
 that wended her way among the rushes years 
 ago, followed by the pretty yellow " bid-bids." 
 " Quack ! quack !" cries the mother, and off 
 they all waddle along the bank, intent on 
 catching flies. And I lean on the rail of the 
 old mill and watch the wheel that turns for 
 ever. Oh, life ! if one could only step on 
 one side and watch the stream rush by, how 
 much we should learn ! 
 
 But in the contest, every one is taking heed 
 for his own safety, and does not regard the 
 struggles of his sisters or brothers. Here is 
 a stick coming down the river, whirling round 
 and round, there is no stopping it, and it 
 must be drawn under the wheel. How sug- 
 gestive of some poor young life fighting for 
 a footing, but too weak to stand against the 
 current ! And so it is, day after day ; souls 
 are lost, swept down, like that stick, with the 
 tide! 
 
 The water mill is situated on the banks of
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 6 
 
 a picturesque river tliat ripples througli tlie 
 estate of Zeigleheath, in the possession of 
 one Sir Bevis Eudkin, Baronet. It is a 
 famous place for hills and glades, like most 
 parts of Sussex, but Moordart is especially 
 beautiful, and in that favoured place gener- 
 ations of Eudkins had lived and died. People 
 called them a blessed race, but there is a 
 difference of opinion about that. They cer- 
 tainly were a comely set, both male and 
 female, but they had a " skeleton in the 
 house," like most other people. Good gifts 
 God had given them, but alas ! the devil, as 
 usual, held out his hand for a share. 
 
 The land for miles round was theirs, dotted 
 here and there with many a rustic dwelling. 
 The woods were rich in game and in songs- 
 ters, the river was full of fish, and the gar- 
 dens abounded in fruits and flowers. 
 
 There is Zeigleheath, a little to your right; 
 the dining-room window commands a view of 
 the old water mill, which is empty now, and 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 the quaint old place almost a ruin. The stage 
 at the side is falling, and the planks are 
 divided, but it is still used bj fishers, and 
 sometimes by lovers. It is a lonely spot, 
 and the rosy village maids do not generally 
 select it for their moonlight rambles, and, for 
 another reason, it is a good step from the High 
 Street. The station (a late addition) is three 
 miles off, and a lumbering old coach goes 
 every morning to take passengers to the nine 
 o'clock train, and returns for them at night, 
 or rather in the evening, at half-past five. 
 An apoplectic guard blows a great horn as 
 it drags itself over the stones and upsets the 
 digestion of its inmates. 
 
 I^evertheless it is considered by the Moor- 
 darters a great convenience and benefit. 
 Moordart has, I regret to say, not improved 
 '' with every shining hour," it has stood still 
 in manners and customs, as well as in appear- 
 ance. But for those who admire nature and 
 antiquity, they cannot do better than pay 
 Moordart a visit this summer. They need not
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 5 
 
 distress tliemselves about getting any of 
 HoulDigant's gloves, or a bonnet from Madame 
 Mouceau — tlie best accompaniments to a 
 week's rustication at Moordart are some 
 cotton dresses and a big umbrella. I ques- 
 tion whether tlie natives would understand a 
 parasol, in all probability they would take it 
 for a dried butterfly or a spider's web. 
 
 But Zeigleheatb is appealing to my con- 
 science now, it says : — " Am I not worthy of 
 notice ?" Yes, indeed ! more than worthy. 
 Its majestic bearing and solidity command 
 notice. 
 
 A fine old place is Zeigleheath ! the only 
 fear I have is lest I should not be able to do 
 it justice. The House was erected by one of 
 the first Rudkins who fought on British soil. 
 They came over with William the Conqueror, 
 so tradition says, and rode by his side in the 
 fight. They were father and son, pure Nor- 
 mans, who left their native land to follow 
 their liege lord, and were the means of found-
 
 b THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 ing here, on our shores, a mighty, kingly race. 
 Of the two who came over, but one survived 
 the struggle at Hastings — the son, Wilde- 
 brand, and to him the Conqueror gave Moor- 
 dart, then a poor fishing hamlet between the 
 hills. 
 
 There, in sight of the sea, whose billows 
 had tossed him and his father on the Sussex 
 shore, Wildebrand erected himself a house, 
 and called it Zeigleheath, and there he reigned 
 as a monarch among his vassals. He did not 
 go back to Normandy for his wife : if he had 
 a love he left her there. Any- way, he married 
 one Mildred, a lady of supreme beauty and 
 high rank, the only child of a powerful Saxon 
 Thane, whose estate and title it had pleased 
 William to spare. So when his tried friend 
 and faithful servant Wildebrand Rudkin fell 
 in love with the beautiful Lady Mildred, the 
 Conqueror swept down all obstacles, made 
 him a rich man, and graced the nuptials with 
 his presence.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 7 
 
 It was a case of the lion and the lamb, or 
 the eagle and the dove. The gentle Mildred, 
 with her milk-white skin and golden hair, was 
 no fit mate for the iron-limbed, eagle-ejed, 
 heavy browed Norman. And she shrank 
 from him, and feared him when she reached 
 her lonely home. The wind was too strong 
 for the gentle creature ; so after a brief span 
 of wedded life, only three shortyears, her oft- 
 repeated sighs mingled with the song of the 
 restless sea, and she slept the sleep of the 
 weary. But she left something behind her, a 
 lovely boy, who, as he grew old enough, spent 
 his time swinging from rock to rock bird- 
 nesting. 
 
 Legend informs us that the Lady Mildred 
 threw herself into the silvery sea one moon- 
 light night, because she had not married 
 her love, and Sir Wildebrand was harsh and 
 cruel to the poor young thing. The 
 fishermen always said the Lady Mildred's 
 spirit appeared to them before a storm,
 
 8 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 and whenever the White Lady was said 
 to have stood on the Eagle's Cliff, no boats 
 put to sea, however calm the day. It was the 
 Rudkin curse, and, strange to say, it clung to 
 them. Each knight married a Saxon woman 
 as fair as fair could be ; none fancied a dark 
 woman — it seemed their fate — and in each 
 family there were always a dark and a fair 
 one. It was a queer coincidence, but a true 
 one. 
 
 We need not follow the doings of every 
 holder of Zeigleheath. They died off, each at 
 his time; some met their end by violence, 
 others according to age or disease. 
 
 It will answer our purpose to skip over 
 many, many years, and resume the thread of 
 the story in the decline of the last baronet's 
 time — Sir Alexander. He, like his prede- 
 cessors, was a handsome man (that was part 
 of the Rudkin inheritance, and inevitably fell 
 to the lot of them all), and wedded a fair 
 lady of noble birth, by whom he had three
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. \f 
 
 children, two sons and a daughter — Sir 
 Bevis, the present baronet ; Denis Eoger, in 
 the army ; and Clorinda. 
 
 Zeigleheath, the original house built by Sir 
 Wildebrand, had never been touched, but it 
 had been added to according to the taste and 
 requirements of its many owners till now it 
 had reached a great size, without much form 
 or regularity ; in fact, it could be called no 
 particular style or design, but a variety of 
 ideas bunched together. Nevertheless, it was 
 a remarkably fine massive building and de- 
 cidedly unique. So for once that old adage, 
 " Too many cooks spoil the broth," proved 
 untrue. 
 
 Sir Wildebrand' s house is called " Sir 
 Wildebrand' s Tower." It is a most appro- 
 priate name, for it looks like a lighthouse with 
 a round tower fixed on the top. It is the 
 highest portion of the building, and commands 
 a fine view of the sea. The sea seems to be 
 necessary to the peace and happiness of the 
 
 B 5
 
 10 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Eudkins ; thej are amphibious animals, and 
 derive great nourisliment from sniffing the 
 salt breeze. 
 
 Sir Alexander and Lady Dorothy lived to a 
 good old age, and made many improvements 
 at Zeigleheath, which had also been continued 
 by their son, Sir Bevis. He did not evince 
 any desire to marry, but his younger brother, 
 Denis Roger, married, pretty early, a lovely 
 sweet creature with eyes like a gazelle's, and 
 smooth hair. She was but a poor governess, 
 of good family but straitened circumstances. 
 He met her at the house of one of his brother 
 officers, whose sisters she was teaching, and 
 her amiability and loveliness won the young 
 soldier's heart. Lilian Lafone proved indeed 
 a treasure, though she had neither money nor 
 grand relations to recommend her, but she 
 possessed a cultivated mind, high principles, 
 and a tender, loving heart, which, in my 
 opinion, are things more to be desired than 
 any other.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 11 
 
 Denis Eudkin idolised his young wife, 
 and it was a hard struggle to let her 
 go, and say " Thy will be done," when 
 Death stretched out his icy hand. For days 
 Colonel E/udkin would not see the wee speci- 
 men of humanity that had robbed him of his 
 love, and its feeble cries were uttered un- 
 heeded by him. It was a senseless, unjust 
 sort of revenge ; but men are seldom just in 
 any acute sorrow — they lack the simple, 
 clinging trust that is God's gift to woman. 
 
 It takes time to soften a man's heart, and 
 so it was with Colonel Rudkin. His heart 
 was still hard when the time for christening 
 baby arrived, and when the old nurse ven- 
 tured to carry the forlorn little spark of life 
 into his presence, she found him sitting 
 moodily before the fire, with his eldest child 
 Adeline, a pretty little dimpled fairy of six 
 summers, playing with his dark hair. He 
 had no idea what the child was doing, and she 
 was enjoying herself after real baby fashion.
 
 12 
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 The old woman rather hesitated : her master's 
 bronzed face had the Eudkin frown, and his 
 month was stiffly set under the thick 
 moustache. But he came to the rescue 
 with a not unkindly — 
 
 "Well, nurse?" 
 
 " If you please, sir, what name do you wish 
 given to baby " (here a faint cry emanated 
 from the bundle of pink flannel lying across 
 nurse's arm) ? " To-morrow is the day to 
 christen her." 
 
 He glanced at the bundle and then at the 
 holder in a mystified manner; then he pushed 
 little Adeline off immediately, and answered — 
 
 " What you like ; fix it amongst your- 
 selves." 
 
 It was now nurse's turn to feel puzzled. 
 
 "But, sir, you must be pleased to have a 
 fancy ; we might give it a name you would 
 disapprove." 
 
 " IS'ot at all ; call it anything you like ; it is 
 a girl, you say ?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 1^ 
 
 " Yes, sir, a little girl. If I miglit make 
 so bold, sir, may it be called after its 
 mother ?" 
 
 Up jumped the big man, uttering what 
 sounded extremely like an oath. 
 
 " No, it may not be called after its mother, 
 there will never be another Lilian, and I will 
 not have her name bandied about ; who can 
 tell whether the child will grow like its 
 mother ? ]^o, no, call it Jane !" 
 
 Tears were standing in the old servant's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Denis ! don't be so hard; it was 
 the Lord's doing, not this poor lamb's. It 
 will never grow like my dear mistress, for it 
 has not her face ; it is just your image, sir — 
 just what you was at its age. Indeed, I 
 might have you in my arms again. Look at 
 it, sir, you have not seen it yet." 
 
 The nurse advanced a step or two, and 
 pulled the bit of pink flannel off the babe's face. 
 The father could not longer refuse to see his
 
 14 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 child, and lie bent over the small creature. 
 Nurse was perfectly correct ; the little face, 
 so still and passive, was a curious and won- 
 derful reproduction of the handsome man's 
 of thirty-four. There was the same intelli- 
 gent dark-grey eye, gazing up in astonish- 
 ment at its newly-found father ; the same 
 broad brow, the same well-shaped nose and 
 mouth, the same clear, dark skin. It was a 
 thin, wiry child, with rather an old face — it 
 could not be called a beautiful child, much 
 less a pretty one — yet there was something 
 attractive about it, something that prevented 
 its being overlooked. Colonel Eudkin stroked 
 the funny little brown hands that were rolled 
 up like walnuts ; nurse told him they were 
 always like that, it was born so. 
 He smiled, and murmured softly — 
 " Poor little thing ! poor little thing ! 
 How pleased Lilian would have been with 
 the baby just like me ! That was her only 
 grief when Adeline came, that she could trace
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 15 
 
 no likeness in her to me. And this little 
 one just my image, and she not here to see it.'* 
 
 " She knows all about it, Mr. Denis, bless 
 you !" sobbed nurse, " I only hope it's not 
 hurt her, seeing as how you've never looked 
 at it before. Ah, me ! Well, will you name 
 it, please, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, but not ' Lilian,' there is no resem- 
 blance to my angel wife in that little pinched, 
 brown face. Call it ' Eenie Dorothy' — 
 ' Renie,' after Charles Renie, for it was at his 
 house I found its mother, and ' Dorothy' 
 after my mother." 
 
 ITe turned away, heaved a great sigh, 
 and old nurse left the room, taking pretty 
 Adeline with her. 
 
 What a contrast between the two children ? 
 the one a sweet little creature like its mother, 
 the other a brown, old-fashioned baby, not 
 wanted, nor really loved ; in fact, regarded by 
 its father as the means of his bereavement 
 and sorrow.
 
 16 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Has master named it, Nurse ?" asked a 
 pretty girl with black ribbons in her cap. 
 
 " Yes, Mary, he has, thank goodness. But 
 such a queer name, at least the first part 
 of it." 
 
 "Why, what?" 
 
 *'Renie Dorothy." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Why I never heard such 
 a name. Renie !" 
 
 " Yes, that's it sure enough. I have made 
 no mistake, which maybe you are thinking, 
 Mary ; but it's after the Renies, of Polsden, 
 where master met my dear young mistress. 
 And ' Dorothy' is after its grandmother. 
 Lady Rudkin. Well, well, I do wish as it 
 would get fatter, poor motherless little lamb. 
 It is no manner of use asking master to let 
 me get it a wet nurse, he won't hear of it. I 
 heard him say to Sir Bevis when he was over, 
 only yesterday, that his child should not have 
 a foster mother, come what would, so we must 
 just do as well as we can."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 17 
 
 '' I'll tell jou what it is, Nurse, it's my 
 belief that master would not take on over 
 much if it died." 
 
 " For shame I Mary Barber ; how can you 
 bring yourself to say such a thing to me of 
 my dear master, as I nursed, like this ?" 
 
 Pretty Mary only tossed her dainty head, 
 and did not seem in the least abashed. 
 
 '' Oh ! I daresay it's all very well for you; 
 but as 1 didn't nurse him I am not troubled 
 with those feelings, and I just uses my 
 senses, that's all. Here's this poor little 
 innocent as is to be christened to-morrow, 
 and have such a heathenish name. Why 
 couldn't he have given it a name fit for a 
 Christian. Arabeller Berlinder, or Sophiar 
 Amander. He has never seen it till to-day,. 
 never come near the nursery, and it crying 
 fit to burst, many a time. I don't believe he 
 would ever have remembered Miss Adeline if 
 I had not got her ready and sent her down. 
 But as for this poor little thing, it might have
 
 18 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 been dead and buried twenty times for any- 
 thing he knew or cared. 'Now, if you call 
 that naturalness, I've done." 
 
 "And a good job you have. How's a 
 young, inexperienced thing like you to know 
 about naturalness, I should like to know ? 
 Take my advice, Mary Barber, and talk about 
 things as you do understand, and leave them 
 alone as you don't." 
 
 "Thank you, Nurse; but I've got my 
 feelings, like most other young women, I sup- 
 pose, and my thoughts too, and you can't 
 prevent me using 'em neither. If / had a 
 husband, I shouldn't like to think as he'd 
 slight and neglect my baby when I was stiff 
 and cold." And Mary thought of a certain 
 athletic young carpenter, Jem Muggins by 
 name, who was cutting laths at that very in- 
 stant in the tool-house. 
 
 But her softened feelings were destined to 
 be of short duration, they vanished like chaff 
 before the rage that burst from Nurse, as she
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 19 
 
 defended Colonel Rudkin's conduct. Mary 
 felt tlie smart cap lift from lier head, and 
 ventured to '' hope as Nurse was not offended 
 by her free speaking." 
 
 "Offended ! No, Mary, but I cannot listen 
 to such talk. You know nothing about it, 
 and don't understand men's natures. The 
 master is a hard, stern man, and missis's 
 death is like pulling his heart out ; he is not 
 accustomed to it yet, poor fellow ! Wait till 
 you get a husband, and then, perhaps, you'll 
 be better able to pass your opinion ; mean- 
 while, keep your tongue quiet about master 
 and his affairs. I never knew much good 
 come of either free speaking or free thinking. 
 Those who speak before they think are fools. 
 Just see if that milk's warm, and if so, give 
 me the feeding bottle." 
 
 The morrow arrived, and the baby was duly 
 christened " Renie Dorothy." It lived and 
 grew, and also, in answer to nurse's oft- 
 repeated prayer, got a trifle plumper. When
 
 20 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 it was three years old, a healthy, intelligent 
 child, Colonel Rudkin accepted an appoint- 
 ment as Governor of one of our Colonies, 
 and went, leaving it and Adeline (a pretty 
 child of nine), to the care of their uncle. Sir 
 Be vis, and a governess. 
 
 Sir Bevis was sorely grieved at his brother's 
 going, and also that he would not allow him 
 to have Adeline and Eenie at Zeigleheath. 
 Sir Bevis was a bachelor, and had taken a 
 great liking to his two little nieces, especially 
 Eenie, whom he called " the little papoose." 
 When asked, *' Who are you ?" she frequently 
 replied, "IN'utle's papoose." But Colonel 
 Eudkin was firm. 
 
 " No, Bevis, my children must remain in 
 my house while I have one. Dove Park is so 
 close to Zeigleheath that a day need never 
 pass without you seeing the little things. I 
 have left you their sole guardian, and if any- 
 thing happens to me, you will be a father to 
 them, Bevis ?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 21 
 
 " I will, Denis, so help me God ! I have 
 got neither chick nor child of my own, and it 
 is almost too late to think about it now, so 
 your children shall be mine ; but keep a brave 
 heart, and God speed you home soon."
 
 22 THE MILL WHEEL, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Colonel Rudkin sailed, and his girls lived at 
 Dove Park with their governess. Miss Webb, 
 a good, sensible Christian gentlewoman, who 
 strove to do her duty piously to the very 
 letter, and cultivated the good seed sown in 
 their hearts as if they had been her own 
 children. 
 
 Miss Webb was not particularly old ; Colonel 
 Rudkin did not desire his daughters' com- 
 panion and friend to be a stiff, rigid woman, 
 with every crease ironed out. He sought for 
 a clever, reasonable lady, one who, remember-
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 23 
 
 ing her own young days, could make allow- 
 ances for the innocent frolics of his children ; 
 not a woman who regarded every bit of non- 
 sense and mischief as a deadly sin, and 
 punished it as such. Their education was 
 just as well looked after, and their moral 
 training quite as effective as if a code of rules 
 and a birch rod had adorned the mantel-piece 
 in the school-room. Their uncle rarely allowed 
 a day to pass without seeing them, and their 
 home was as much Zeigleheath as Dove Park, 
 they were the children of both places. 
 
 Miss Webb had a pleasant time of it ; she 
 was respected, loved by her pupils, and well 
 treated. How different from the lot of most 
 poor governesses ! I don't know a class more 
 to be pitied. They are engaged on the lowest 
 terms, and expected to dress well, and to know 
 everything — English, French, music, German, 
 drawing, &c., &c., &c., all of which they, poor 
 suffering mortals ! are to impart to blocks of 
 girls for the exorbitant sum of thirty pounds
 
 24: THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 a year. Is it to be marvelled at tliat there are 
 so many incompetent governesses ? Do you 
 think any draper would sell silk velvet at the 
 price of cotton ? Does knowledge -cost nothing 
 to acquire ? or is there so much of it going 
 that it can be had for next to nothing ? 
 
 The nursery governess, or, more properly, 
 the nursery drudge, slaves her life away for 
 fifteen pounds a-year, and often not that. I 
 have named the highest figures for both. 
 There are some exceptions, I grant, but they 
 are few and far between. 
 
 I wonder what the world would do without 
 governesses ? What would become of the 
 many fine helpless mothers if they could not 
 get someone to take charge of the little Turks 
 and be answerable for every bruise on the 
 ill-behaved little wretches ? Because, you 
 know, it is the proper thing to talk of " our 
 governess," after a certain time ; " nurse" 
 cannot be with them for ever. Besides, for 
 thirty pounds you get all your family educated,
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 25 
 
 whetlier tlie unfortunate creature undertook 
 to do it or not, and tlie cost would be con- 
 siderably more to send them to school. And 
 how are these ladies treated (for many of them 
 are ladies born and bred, vastly superior to 
 the vulgar dame whose children they are try- 
 ing to knock something into) ? Disgracefully, 
 shamefully, put to sleep in a cold, barely- 
 furnished apartment, left to drag out the even- 
 ings in a dark, cheerless, schoolroom, with a 
 handful of fire in the grate, or, more probably, 
 none at all, correcting carelessly executed 
 exercises till eleven and twelve. If not there, 
 she is in the drawing-room, in attendance on 
 the young ladies. There she is regarded as 
 a newly-discovered specimen of something 
 with which they are not acquainted by the 
 females, and through their eye-glasses by the 
 males. She is commanded to sing, and she 
 is commanded to play, and will perhaps have 
 the pleasure of hearing some brainless fool of 
 a Sir Somebody Something, with his face all 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 askew, or Lis legs at cross-purposes, call her 
 a "doosed putty garl," after which she is 
 permitted to sit down, whereupon the female 
 next to her, with wonderful delicacy of feel- 
 ing, commences a very animated discourse at 
 the top of her voice on the qualities and short- 
 comings of " our last governess," and her 
 experience of them in general. 
 
 She is subjected to all manner of insults 
 and slights, from the mistress of the house to 
 her youngest pupil. She is treated by the 
 butler with pompous indifference, and by the 
 rest of the servants with open disdain. She 
 is reduced to the level of a servant herself ; 
 the most to be pitied of them all. She is 
 worked harder, worse paid and treated than 
 any lady's maid. And yet she is a gentle- 
 woman, and well educated ! How is this 
 evil to be remedied ? 
 
 By the lady of the house (I had nearly 
 written " woman") ; it is she who must set a 
 better example, and then her servants will
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 27 
 
 copy it. She ought to treat her daughters' 
 governess with courtesy and respect ; does 
 she not trust their morals to her keeping ? 
 then she must repose confidence in her, and 
 deem her worthy. One would, doubtless, 
 suppose it was so, but it is my painful duty 
 to say that such is not the case, and I will 
 show you why. Not one half the women who 
 hold rank as ladies ever think about it at all ; 
 being decidedly hazy in that region them- 
 selves, they don't feel equal to taking any- 
 one else to task. They have accomplished 
 the one grand end and aim of life, namely, 
 matrimony, and, having done that, they con- 
 sider it their bounden duty to set upon every- 
 one else who is a shade or two lower in 
 position than themselves. 
 
 The idea of giving precedence to ability 
 never for a moment occurs to them, they look 
 upon a governess as a machine, reported by 
 last owner to do its work well, to be had for 
 so much money, and quite as necessary in an 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 establishment where there are children as a 
 patent knife-cleaner. If they paid a visit to 
 the school-room during the lessons, they would 
 be no wiser; did the governess tell the 
 children that Jericho was situated on the 
 coast of France, or that Belle Island was 
 one of the Hebrides ! 
 
 Ignorance is the mainspring of the evil, 
 they cannot test their powers like a maid's, so 
 they institute a series of snubbings to keep 
 the young person in her proper place, and 
 prevent their own deficiencies from becoming 
 palpable. An educated woman and a lady is 
 not afraid of meeting one of her own sex on 
 any ground, or any terms. But when you 
 see a woman behave towards another as if she 
 thought her red hot, you may be very sure 
 there is something amiss. It is like a baby 
 that is kept an unusual time in long clothes 
 — there is something the matter with that 
 child, it has either no feet or too many toes. 
 
 A life of toil, privation and insult, is the lot
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 29 
 
 of nearly every governess ; shame be it to 
 every Englishman and woman ! We have 
 members of Parliament who hold meetings 
 and speechify by the hour, even incite their 
 listeners to riot, so enthusiastic and earnest 
 are they in their cause. But none has yet 
 taken the cause of the poor governess by the 
 hand ; why don't they use their eloquence to 
 befriend her ? True, there are homes for 
 governesses, for which they must pay ; and, 
 then, what are they ? Go and see them ; 
 picture your own child a governess, friend- 
 less and lonely, with nothing to turn to but a 
 '' Home." 
 
 When a girl is left alone (as many are, or 
 nearly so) in the wide world, what is she to 
 do ? There are but three reputable callings 
 — those of a governess, a companion, and a 
 situation in a shop, unless she has some 
 special talent ; and, even if she has, before 
 her work is accomplished she may die of 
 starvation, for no one will take an unknown
 
 30 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 light by the hand. So the governess or com- 
 panion is the safest. She commences the 
 struggle, and toils on, seldom able to save a 
 penny, and praying day and night not to be 
 afflicted with any sickness. 
 
 If she does not find a gentleman generous 
 enough to take a poor wife, and one who has 
 been a governess (and I am free to confess 
 they are few, and the word " governess '* 
 sticks in their throat like a plum), we again 
 see her toiling on with silvered hair, no 
 richer, no poorer, nothing to show for her 
 years of work but that she — lives. My Grod ! 
 is it for that babies are born and dragged up ? 
 I have just one wish : may everyone who can 
 afford to keep a governess, and who treats 
 her unkindly, lose all their money at one 
 stroke, and may their daughters be turned 
 adrift on the world to get their own bread, 
 after being brought up to work at nothing. 
 May they suffer every slight and insult ; may 
 they walk far and meet with rudeness and
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 31 
 
 disappointment ; may they go to bed each 
 night with a wet pillow and a sad heart, and 
 may every day seem longer than the last ! 
 
 A girl who gets her livelihood without 
 having need to blush is to be commended 
 and admired, not looked down upon and in- 
 sulted. Surely some home with comforts be- 
 fitting a gentlewoman might be granted them, 
 some little taste of peace after their years of 
 toil, while waiting for the blessed calm of 
 God's rest to fall upon them. 
 
 Miss Webb was not one of those unhappy 
 workers ; her home was a pleasant one. 
 Colonel Rudkin, perceiving that he had ob- 
 tained a lady, and a well-educated instructress 
 for his children, caused her to be respected 
 and well treated by his household as by him- 
 self, and Sir Bevis carried out his desires on 
 that subject as well as on all others. 
 
 Time slipped by, and Adeline and Renie 
 planted their feet further down in the sands 
 of time ; they were both well-grown and well-
 
 32 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 educated. There was a marked difference 
 between the sisters ; indeed, so little did they 
 resemble one another that there might have 
 existed no relationship whatever. In the first 
 place, there was a gap of six years, sufficient 
 to prevent Adeline's taking a lively interest 
 in the amusements of Renie when she began 
 to play. Then there was a wide difference in 
 their dispositions, as well as in their forms 
 and faces. 
 
 Adeline was quite wonderful in the way she 
 used her delicate fingers ; she was perfectly 
 refined and excessively pretty, but endued 
 with by no means a powerful intellect. Her 
 pastime and delight consisted in making 
 bonnets and dresses, and doing fancy work. 
 She kept a milliner's shop for years with the 
 assistance of a cupboard and the nursery 
 table. And it was by no means a childish 
 establishment ; it was equal, if not superior, 
 to the first milliner's in Regent Street for 
 taste and elegance. It was the hand of a
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 33 
 
 genius that arranged tlie flowers so artisti- 
 cally, making the colours blend so effectively, 
 yet without offending the eye. Everything 
 was finished ; there was not an angle or 
 abrupt termination to anything, and every 
 single article was of a design and style pecu- 
 liarly her own. 
 
 Adeline Rudkin was a perfect little lady, 
 refined to the last atom of her composition. 
 It is rarely so, even with royalty. One half 
 the grace and elegance displayed in the 
 highest circles, is the result only of training 
 and years of " polishing." No doubt they 
 were very ordinary children in their days of 
 pinafores, and very desirous of saying " was" 
 instead of '' were." It is not always that we 
 see the really genuine article fresh from the 
 hand of nature. 
 
 But nature did everything for Adeline; 
 there was no Professor Delamere required to 
 teach her how to turn her toes out — they 
 turned out of themselves when she com- 
 
 o5
 
 34 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 menced to walk. Slie was not fat ; there was 
 not an ounce of flesli on the graceful body 
 more than was needed to cover the exquisitely 
 turned little bones. Her feet and hands were 
 two sizes smaller than anyone else's ; her 
 voice a tone lower, and her mouth full of 
 beautiful teeth. Her skin was soft and fair, 
 her hair a light reddish brown, her almond- 
 shaped eyes a decided tone of blue, with 
 pencilled eyebrows and long curling lashes of 
 dark brown. She was a delicate child, and 
 disposed to be irritable, especially with her 
 sister. But that was not much to be 
 wondered at, Kenie being, in her own way, 
 extremely provoking. 
 
 The brown baby had developed into a 
 plump brown child, with an expanded nose, 
 and a mouth set like a vice. Adeline's hair 
 was arranged in long ringlets, but Renie, 
 poor child, was made even a greater fright 
 than nature had intended her to be. Her 
 meagre supply of that article, which was of a
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 35 
 
 dark brown colour, and perfectly lank, was 
 cropped quite short at the back, very much 
 after the prison cut, while the sides were per- 
 mitted to grow, and screwed up into three 
 short stiff curls, very much in size and shape 
 like black puddings. 
 
 She was awkward and unwieldly in every 
 movement, and persisted in stumping along 
 on her heels. She never troubled anyone to 
 get her any fruit, for she could climb as well 
 as any boy, and swing from bough to bough 
 like an ourang outang. The result of all these 
 gymnastics was that she developed into a 
 great broad-shouldered, strong-limbed, thick- 
 skinned girl without a particle of grace or 
 refinement. Her arms, from constant ex- 
 posure to the seasons, got completely covered 
 with long hairs, as also did her legs, and her 
 hands, which were not very much mis-shapen, 
 were always a mass of cuts and scratches, and 
 the nails bitten to the quick. 
 
 I need scarcely tell you that this child had
 
 36 THE MILL WHEEL, 
 
 a temper, and a large one too. But it did 
 not always show, though when it did it left 
 some marks of its visit. On one occasion, 
 when a very young child, not able to talk, she 
 was in the kitchen with her nurse, and one of 
 the men brought in a rabbit, intended, doubt- 
 less, as a present for Miss Adeline, who never 
 favoured them with a visit. He put the little 
 creature down, and attracted baby's attention 
 to it. She set up a shout of delight and 
 trotted towards it, whereupon the frightened 
 animal retreated into a comer. Renie jab- 
 bered to it, and sputtered in its face, but it 
 would not come out. So the little Turk 
 raised the drumstick, which was her constant 
 companion, and passionately beat the rabbit 
 to death. 
 
 The servants made no attempt to stop her; 
 they were either lost in delight or in wonder- 
 ment at the child's temper, so Renie beat on 
 undisturbed, and battered the life out of the 
 little creature. Yet she loved animals dearly,
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 37 
 
 and always had a family of pups and kittens 
 following her, to wliom slie was devoted. 
 She nearly lost one of her most promising 
 disciples one day — a tabby kitten, named 
 '' Ophelia." 
 
 The little pet was following its mistress 
 about the grounds, and accidentally fell into 
 a drain that was open. Eenie suddenly 
 missed it, and rightly conjectured what had 
 become of it. She did not commence to cry, 
 as most children would do, and call for assist- 
 ance, but set off as fast her short legs would 
 take her to where the gardener was mowing, 
 and, seizing his long wooden rake, returned, 
 and pushing it down the drain, raked Ophelia 
 up again. Adeline happened to pass at the 
 moment, and seeing her with the dirty kitten 
 clasped to her heart, poked the finger of 
 scorn at her. But it mattered not to Renie ; 
 she had saved her puss. 
 
 Now is it to be wondered at that Eenie and 
 Adeline did not agree ? They were not in
 
 38 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 the least like each other. And, again, there 
 was a line drawn between them which could 
 never be rubbed out. Adeline was pretty, 
 while Eenie was ugly, and she knew it. 
 When the time for new clothes arrived, it 
 was Adeline who got them ; Eenie had hers 
 made out of her sister's old ones ; she rarely 
 had a perfectly new frock. 
 
 'No doubt Miss Webb and old nurse meant 
 very well, and thought Eenie would never 
 notice it ; but she did, and thought about it, 
 too. Never one word did she utter, though, 
 and they little guessed what was working in 
 her mind. 
 
 Though six years younger than Adeline, 
 her mind was more matured, and more 
 capable of serious thought. She knew she 
 was ugly, and, like most plain people, she had 
 a passionate and intense longing and love for 
 everything that was beautiful. To hold in 
 her hand' one of Adeline's .pretty things was 
 to her a keen joy. She had no idea how it
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 39 
 
 was made, or of making it, but slie admired 
 and appreciated it. This Adeline would 
 rarely allow her to do. If she came into the 
 room while Adeline was holding shop and 
 ventured to touch anything, she was met 
 with a peevish — 
 
 " Please to put my things down, Renie, 
 and keep your clumsy, dirty fingers off the 
 table." 
 
 If Renie did not immediately comply (and 
 sometimes the temper would rise and she'd 
 feel inclined to toss the trumpery thing on 
 the ground) Adeline would say, with the ever- 
 ready tears in her eyes — 
 
 " Miss Webb, will you speak to Renie ? 
 She is spoiling my blue bonnet, her hands are 
 so dirty !" 
 
 Miss Webb would say, quietly — 
 
 "Don't tease Adeline, Renie, and go to 
 nurse and get your hands washed." 
 
 Renie would put the doll's bonnet down, 
 and walk out of the room without saying a
 
 40 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 word, never go near nurse, but straight to 
 some quiet corner of the grounds. She knew 
 she had handled the bit of finery far more 
 tenderly than its owner would have done, 
 and that her hands were perfectly clean. It 
 was only one of Adeline's many ways of 
 getting her out of the room. Adeline would 
 never play with her, and when she did con- 
 descend to, Renie was never permitted to 
 touch anything, she always acted as servant, 
 and churned, or performed some other menial 
 duty. 
 
 All this while Renie got more reserved and 
 independent, and hated her sister from the 
 bottom of her heart, she was the plague of 
 her existence, and the cause of her ever being 
 punished or getting into disgrace. It was a 
 kind Providence that watched over Adeline, 
 for had she fallen into a pit, Eenie Dorothy 
 would never have pulled her out. 
 
 Such was the hue things wore at Dove 
 Park for nine years, during which time
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 41 
 
 Colonel Rudkin wrote pleasing letters to his 
 cliildren, and Adeline wrote him neat, precise, 
 ladylike little epistles in return. Renie's 
 were decided specimens; such penmanship 
 was never before seen, it could be deciphered 
 as well upside down as any other way. It 
 used to rend good Miss Webb's heart to send 
 them, and she was obliged to confess to Sir 
 Bevis, with tears in her eyes, that she could 
 not teach Renie to write, and it was not the 
 child's fault, she tried her best to copy, but 
 it seemed an impossibility. 
 
 Sir Bevis laughed, and asked to see some 
 of Renie's own writing, the way she wrote 
 when alone. Miss Webb brought him a part 
 of a letter to her papa. 
 
 "What hieroglyphics!" exclaimed the 
 worthy baronet ; " I never saw their equal ; 
 such eastern y's ! Well, don't be cast down. 
 Miss Webb, my advice is, don't attempt to 
 teach her any more, she will manage perfectly 
 well without your assistance. This is her
 
 42 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 natural hand, and her character is so strong 
 that no one can alter it. There is one re- 
 commendation about it — it is original ; you 
 will not find another hand like this in a 
 hurry." 
 
 " Indeed, I am sure not. Sir Bevis, nor 
 another child ; Renie is most peculiar. But a 
 quiet, good girl, with great ability and power. 
 It is no trouble to her to learn her lessons, 
 and now she is actually beginning to despise 
 them. There are only two things that she 
 does not get on with, and those are arithmetic 
 and French. The former I cannot instruct 
 her in, and she so thoroughly detests it. I 
 have noticed, during my experience, that 
 those girls who have talent for figures can 
 scarcely ever do anything else well, no other 
 talent seems to live and grow to any size 
 with arithmetic. Of course Eenie does her 
 best, but she might as well devote the time to 
 some other study, for it is no benefit to her. 
 Then, again, her French — she is no linguist ;
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 43 
 
 if she is ever to speak French properly she 
 must reside some time in the country ; and 
 Renie will do nothing unless she can do it 
 well." 
 
 " Yery wise, too, but the child does not 
 want for sense. 1 am glad you have told me 
 this. Miss "Webb. The arithmetic I desire 
 persevered with; it is a capital exercise for 
 the mind, but French is not, in my eyes, so 
 very important. She can do very well with- 
 out it. And how about Adeline ? — she grows 
 prettier every day." 
 
 " Yes, she does. Sir Bevis, and her carriage 
 and manners are faultless. I wish Eenie 
 would improve in that respect. Adeline is a 
 sweet girl, but we must not expect nearly so 
 much from her as from Renie — they are 
 totally different — one is to be led, the other 
 to lead." 
 
 Miss Webb told the truth in her periodical 
 reports to their uncle, and it was wise and 
 just of her to do it.
 
 44 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At the expiration of nine years, wlien Adeline 
 was eighteen, and Eenie twelve, Colonel 
 Rudkin wrote to say lie was coming home 
 that autumn. Great were the preparations, 
 for the house was not half used by Miss 
 Webb and her pupils, and the servants 
 wanted adding to, as well as various other 
 things. 
 
 Adeline and Renie were both longing to 
 see their papa, and Miss Webb was anxious 
 to hear what he thought of them, and whether 
 he would consider that she had fulfilled her 
 trust properly.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 45 
 
 At length the long looked-for day arrived, 
 and about a quarter past four the Zeigleheath 
 carriage drove up to the door, and Sir Bevis 
 got out, accompanied by Colonel Eudkin. 
 They were both handsome men, but Sir Bevis 
 was the taller by a good deal. The Colonel 
 was a rather short, thick-set man, with pierc- 
 ing black eyes and bushy eyebrows — a good- 
 looking, stern man of fifty- two. The Baronet 
 had more grace in his bearing, and decidedly 
 a more classical face, but the complexion was 
 rather sallow. His hair was coming off, and 
 what remained was silvered, as also his 
 whiskers. 
 
 There was a difference in age of five years 
 between the brothers. Sir Bevis Rudkin was 
 a learned man — a man of genius ; he was 
 always inventing some new thing ; he knew 
 pretty nearly everything, and was apt to smile 
 at his brother Denis's incapabihty and im- 
 petuosity. When it was a question of head- 
 work Denis used to make the best of his way
 
 46 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 to Bevis, who always good-naturedly helped 
 him out of his difficulties, and showed him 
 how to avoid them in future. But it was all 
 to no purpose. 
 
 Denis, unlucky man, never seemed in his 
 element except when fighting with someone 
 up to his eyes in law. He wasted more 
 money on lawyers than anyone would credit, 
 and invariably the bone of contention, let it 
 be what it would, when it came to be ex- 
 amined, was found to be rotten. The one 
 characteristic of Denis Eoger Eudkin was a 
 want of prudence and forethought. He would 
 take in hand a trust, and, being strictly 
 honourable, when the accounts were cast up, 
 whatever was deficient from gross neglect 
 he made good out of his own pocket. And 
 all for want of management. He had no rule 
 or method, and, had the estate fallen into his 
 hands, it would have been mortgaged. His 
 appointment had pleased him, whether it had 
 paid was yet to be proved.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 47 
 
 He looked witli astonishment and* delight 
 • at his children, especially pretty Adeline, who 
 was now ready to come out and take the 
 control of her father's house. Renie he eyed 
 somewhat curiously; she, too, had altered 
 from what he last saw her. She had shot up, 
 and promised to be taller than Adeline, who 
 was very petite. Her hair was now dressed, 
 or, more properly, " put up " in a knot at the 
 back of her head, which was not becoming to 
 her, but it suited her about as well as any 
 other fashion would have done. 
 
 Renie was hopelessly plain, and Colonel 
 Eudkin speedily perceived it. It was to 
 Adeline all the fond words were uttered, to 
 Adeline all the kisses were given. When any 
 presents came Adeline had the choice, and 
 what she left was bestowed on Renie, who, as 
 a matter of course, after that, cared no great 
 deal about them. Colonel Rudkin would call 
 her to him sometimes, and ask her — 
 " Do you love papa ?"
 
 48 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 *' Yes, I love you." 
 
 " Kiss me, then, and run away, Renie." 
 
 This was about all they ever said to one 
 another for many months. 
 
 It seems, perhaps, improbable to you, 
 reader, nevertheless it is strictly true. 
 Colonel Rudkin was a strange man, and his 
 child was just as strange. She saw when she 
 was wanted and when she was not, and if it 
 was her father's pleasure to pet and notice 
 Adeline, on the grounds of her delicacy and 
 six years' seniority, it was a matter of in- 
 difference to Renie, and she got to do without 
 the noticing. 
 
 But a change took place about sixteen 
 months after the Colonel's return. Adeline 
 was visiting pretty much, and greatly ad- 
 mired. At one grand party she met a gen- 
 tleman named Korman Howard, an architect, 
 a nice, happy, good-natured, kind-hearted 
 fellow, very good looking. He had property 
 left him by his parents of vast extent, so that
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 49 
 
 his business was not his sole support, and he 
 resided in a snug, pretty place, called Beach 
 Cliff, two miles on the other side of Zeigle- 
 heath. They fell in love with each other, and 
 as Colonel Eudkin liked Norman Howard, 
 and desired to find his precious little daughter 
 a good husband and kind protector, he agreed 
 to their being engaged. 
 
 Thus it was that Adeline having another to 
 devote herself to, Renie came more into 
 notice. Her father now talked to her, and 
 sometimes very seriously indeed ; and Renie 
 perfectly understood, and gave her opinion, 
 which, though necessarily childish, or rather 
 girlish, was freighted with sound common 
 sense. These talks were alike refreshing to 
 both father and daughter, and there is no 
 telling how near they might have got to each 
 other, how necessary to each other's happi- 
 ness they might have become, had God so 
 willed it. For plain Renie loved her father 
 dearly, though he had kept her off, and she 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 would have tried her best to be a true, faithful 
 daughter to him. But it was not to be : the 
 two lines parted at this point, and the child 
 must turn off alone. 
 
 Colonel Eudkin was not ill many days, and 
 one morning he got so much worse that Ade- 
 line and Renie were sent for to his room; 
 Norman Howard was there too. The invalid 
 was gasping for breath, and could not speak, 
 but he thought of his little pet lamb at the 
 last, and put her hand in Norman Howard's. 
 He took no notice of Eenie, poor girl ! and 
 shortly after he died. 
 
 So ended Eenie' s acquaintance with her 
 father ; it was brought to an abrupt close 
 that day in September, never to be renewed till 
 the time when they meet in heaven. It was 
 a mist at first to Eenie ; she could not realise 
 that she must go groping about all her life, 
 and never j&nd him to have another talk with — 
 that he was dead past recall, and almost a 
 stranger to her, his own child. She wandered
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 61 
 
 up and down the long kitchen garden, keep- 
 ing out of the way of everyone ; and so the 
 time wore on, and the funeral got over, and 
 everything was so awfully still and solemn, it 
 sent a chill, a loneliness to the girl's heart. 
 
 But things could not go on as they had 
 done, that was quite clear ; so Adeline, Renie, 
 and Miss Webb all went to Zeigleheath tolive 
 with Sir Bevis, and Dove Park — sweet place ! 
 — was shut up. Renie was now thirteen, and 
 Adeline going to be married ; so after a little 
 while Miss Webb left, with a nice sum 
 settled on her, and Renie went to school in 
 England. Sir Bevis had a strange dislike to 
 continental schools, and Eenie was rather a 
 pet of the eccentric old gentleman's, so he 
 would not send her abroad. This did not at 
 all trouble Renie at the time ; she was too 
 young to understand fully the advantages 
 derived by a sojourn on the Continent. 
 
 A suitable school was found ; not one of 
 extravagant terms, the reason for which you 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSm OF lii^'«0®
 
 52 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 shall hear presently, but a plain, homely 
 establishment, where there was good food 
 given, and good plain tuition. It was kept 
 by a couple of old maids, assisted by an Eng- 
 lish and a French governess. Masters (but 
 not the first) attended so many days a week, 
 and some taught one thing and some another. 
 It was the sort of school where a little is 
 made to go a long way ; it was the ghost of 
 grandeur which predominated there, not the 
 reality. Hill Cotfcage was situated on the out- 
 skirts of a pretty village, about one hour's 
 ride in the train from Waterloo Bridge. 
 
 The sweet village of Ripley afforded every 
 possible advantage for growing girls : good 
 pure air and seductive walks, so that they 
 never really performed a duty walk, or made 
 a labour of it. 
 
 The Misses Bird were precise, gentle 
 women, ladies of reduced means, and they 
 performed their daily work in a meek, re- 
 signed manner, and were rarely, if ever, seen
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 53 
 
 out of temper. Their motto was — " It is not 
 what you do, but how you do it." 
 
 Hill Cottage sheltered some characters, and 
 not a mean supply of ability. There were 
 about twenty pupils, and only one out of the 
 twenty had a father living. Most of them were 
 orphans, with a miserable pittance a-year and 
 a cavalcade of grand relations, who conde- 
 scendingly sent them a box of old clothes 
 once a-year. What an assortment those 
 boxes used to contain ! Yards of lace, yards 
 of ribbon and velvet, the skirt of this, the 
 bodice of the other, primrose gloves and satin 
 slippers — evidently the things the various 
 maids did not care for. But they came in use- 
 ful at Hill Cottage, and on breaking-up night, 
 or when the dancing-master came in the even- 
 ing, as was sometimes the case, the toilets were 
 by no means to be despised or in bad taste. 
 
 Hill Cottage was a little world of itself, and 
 under its slanting, irregular roof, the die of 
 many a life was cast.
 
 54 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTEH lY. 
 
 About a year after her father's death, Adeline 
 married Norman Howard, and Eenie went 
 home for the wedding. Unfortunate girl 1 
 she seemed destined to cut a sorry figure in 
 the eyes of the world ! The dresses, bonnets, 
 &c., had all been arranged to suit those on the 
 spot, and never a thought had been bestowed 
 on plain-faced Eenie. Adeline was, as a 
 matter of course, almost overcome by her 
 own importance ; so, when the eventful morn- 
 ing arrived, and Eenie, fresh from school, 
 began to array herself in the wedding gar- 
 ments, she was a fit object for a museum.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 55 
 
 The dresses were composed of the brightest 
 yellow silk, the bonnets of white, with flowers 
 and crystal ornaments, and affixed to the 
 back was an immense tulle veil, all bespatterd 
 with huge paste beads. The materials were 
 of the best — the style and shape villanous. 
 They had been executed by a prim milliner, 
 who never stitched or pinned anything — 
 everything was tied — and she had spoken of 
 the forthcoming bonnets as " elegant arrange- 
 ments of foliage and blonde." And she kept 
 her word — they were elegant arrangements. 
 To improve matters, Eenie's bonnet was too 
 large for her ; the other bridesmaids looked 
 very well, being pretty girls with a fair share 
 of colour. But Renie, with her sallow com- 
 plexion and yellow dress, looked for all the 
 world like a Seville orange, or a person af- 
 flicted with jaundice. But the ceremony passed, 
 like everything else, and Renie returned to 
 school, one conviction firm in her mind — 
 that it should be the last wedding in the family.
 
 56 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 There was every probability that it would 
 be the last, for more reasons than one. 
 
 l^ow that Adeline was married and com- 
 fortably settled for the remainder of her stay 
 in this world. Sir Bevis thought it incumbent 
 upon him to inform his youngest niece of her 
 position. Colonel Eudkin's affairs had been 
 investigated, and it was discovered that the 
 sole fortune left to his two daughters was the 
 sum of seventy-five pounds a year each, 
 which, with duty off, left about seventy 
 pounds. There was not another penny, and 
 that was their fortune! What Colonel 
 Eudkin had done with his money no one 
 could tell, and no one had a right to ask. 
 The reality was sufiScient, and no speculation 
 could alter it; if he enjoyed it during his 
 life so much the better. We shall see how 
 his children did on the leavings. 
 
 Eenie realized her position, as her uncle 
 intended she should, and thought it over care- 
 fully. There was but one hope — that Sir
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 57 
 
 Bevis, being unmarried, might leave her 
 something at his death. Zeigleheath would, 
 of course, go to the next male heir — that heir 
 would have been her father, had he lived. 
 Now that he was dead, the succession reverted 
 to a remote branch, in fact, no Rudkin at all, 
 but the nearest male relative living : Leopold 
 Gunston, a wanderer. But this hope was 
 destined to be wrenched from her. 
 
 It is a year and a half since Adeline's 
 marriage, and luncheon time at Hill Cot- 
 tage. The girls are alone in the school- 
 room, with the tray of bread and butter, but 
 it is not disappearing as fast as one could 
 desire. The truth is, they are digesting 
 something rather more tough than bread and 
 butter. The twelve post brought rather 
 startling news, the importance of which those 
 girls, varying in age from fifteen to nineteen, 
 each with her way to make when she left Hill 
 Cottage, was perfectly awake to. They 
 were nice-looking girls, all of them, and 
 
 D 5
 
 5S THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 all friends; there was none of that hateful 
 backbiting and " sha'n't speak to you for a 
 fortnight," which is so prevalent in girls ^ 
 schools. The trouble which had fallen upon 
 one of their companions was felt by them all, 
 and it was not ill-nature that prompted them 
 to speak as we shall presently see. 
 
 " Here comes Mademoiselle !" exclaimed a 
 short, fair girl, with a slight squint, " and I'll 
 wager anything she tells us she is going to 
 ' wind up the clock.' " 
 
 " Hush, Kate !" said one, while a titter 
 passed round the group. 
 
 There was a patter, patter coming down 
 the carpetless stairs, accompanied by a voice 
 calling — 
 
 " Miss Or-ton ! Miss Or-ton ; wherre arre 
 you? I have got something to say to you !" 
 and the door burst open, and in dived 
 Mademoiselle, attired in a short dress, a 
 scarlet jacket, and very high-heeled shoes, 
 her black hair coiled into thick plaits at the 
 back of her head.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 59 
 
 " Beg jour pardon, young ladies, but where 
 is Miss Orton?" 
 
 " She is with E-enie, I think, Mademoiselle. 
 Will you not have some luncheon ?" and the 
 girl handed the plate. 
 
 " Merci, Mary ; and what is the matter with 
 that Renie?" 
 
 Before Mary could reply, a tall, thin girl, 
 who was inelegantly perched on the corner of 
 a desk, kicking her legs to and fro to the tune 
 of eating thick bread and butter, made 
 answer — 
 
 " It is this. Mademoiselle — the old gentle- 
 man has taken unto himself a spouse." 
 
 "A what?" cried the bewildered Made- 
 moiselle, " a what, Lucy ? Do you mean a 
 complaint?" 
 
 " A complaint !" echoed Lucy, " perhaps it 
 is ; only we call it a wife." 
 
 " Lucy, why don't you answer to me ? and 
 stop to kick your legs ; it is very ngly, that 
 fashion. What has happened to Renie ?"
 
 60 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " I have answered you. Mademoiselle, and 
 told you about it." 
 . '' But I do not understand." 
 
 " Oh ! that's a di:fferent thing ; Mary, you 
 tell." 
 
 " Well, Mademoiselle, this is what Lucy 
 means — Sir Bevis Eudkin has got married, 
 and, of course, it will make a great difference 
 to poor Renie." 
 
 " But, why ? I don't see ; she will only 
 have one relation the more." 
 
 " Ugh !" grunted Lucy; " she'll have more 
 relations than she wants shortly. Can't you 
 see. Mademoiselle, that now her uncle has 
 got married (old donkey !) most likely there'll 
 be a child, and, if so, he'll never remember 
 E/cnie in his will." 
 
 " Oh ! that is a bad job for Renie. Ali^ 
 ga ! les enfants I c'est sur^ leave the English 
 alone for that. When did the marriage take 
 place ?" 
 
 " On the 23rd," replied Mary.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 61 
 
 It was indeed too true ; Sir Bevis Rudkin 
 had got married at last to a young creature, 
 only twenty, the daughter of a poor Methodist 
 minister. The baronet met her at Brighton, 
 in one of the hotels where she was staying 
 with a rich widow lady, to whom she acted as 
 companion. He had made up his mind 
 suddenly, and written to Mrs. Troost, the 
 housekeeper, to put everything in order at 
 Zeigleheath. It was a tremendous shock to 
 everyone, and no one had dared to write to 
 poor Renie until they had been home a week. 
 Then Sir Bevis asked Mrs. Howard if Renie 
 knew, as she had not written to her aunt, and 
 Adeline was obliged to confess that she did not. 
 
 " Then write by this afternoon's post, 
 Addy; I cannot, for I promised Lady 
 Rudkin that I would drive her to Hantley. 
 Give my dear love to Renie, and say I will 
 write in the course of a day or two." 
 
 The way Adeline accomplished her mission 
 was to commence with a passionate outburst
 
 62 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 which, as it gradually became more compre- 
 hensible, imparted the following intelligence. 
 The young lady who had been successful in 
 catching the old baronet was named Esther 
 Whittingham, and nothing further than that 
 was known of her. Adeline did not even say 
 whether she was pretty ; and Renie never 
 asked, nor did she write to her new aunt. 
 She wrote to her uncle a decided, but respect- 
 ful letter, which showed him her feelings 
 plainly. He read it three times, and, sighing, 
 put it in his pocket. Lady Rudkin, with all 
 the assurance of a young wife, said — 
 
 " Show me that letter, Bevis ; I never saw 
 such queer writing. I hope the writer will 
 never come here, for I am certain I should be 
 frightened of him." 
 
 Sir Bevis only smiled and said, half sadly — 
 
 " Should you ? Well, you need not terrify 
 
 yourself, Esther, I don't think there is much 
 
 fear of the individual coming at present," but 
 
 he did not show her the letter.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 63 
 
 1^0, there was no fear of Renie coming at 
 present, or for a pretty long time, and so slie 
 told her uncle. 
 
 The summer holidays were approaching, 
 and she readily accepted Lucy Northwood's 
 invitation to spend them with her. Lucy's 
 papa was dead, and her mother left with a 
 small income and a large family to bring up 
 and educate, of which Lucy was one of the 
 elders. 
 
 Addy sent Renie her summer clothes, and 
 off with Lucy she went. Mrs. North wood 
 had taken a cottage at Margate, and there 
 they spent the long hot weeks. Renie was 
 speedily a favourite, for she was a good- 
 hearted, sensible girl, ready to turn her hand 
 to anything, from bathing the children in the 
 morning to helping Mrs. North wood and 
 Carry and Lucy to repair their torn garments 
 at night. 
 
 She saw plainly that her future life must be 
 one of work. The £70 a-year left her by her
 
 64 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 father was nothing — she could live upon it, 
 but how ? She had no relation to go to but 
 her uncle and Addy, and that she would 
 never do. Addj was all very well for a week 
 or two, but Renie knew they could never get 
 on peaceably much longer. Then, again, 
 N'orman Howard was as good a fellow as 
 ever lived, and fond of, and kind to Renie, 
 but she would not go and quarter herself in 
 his house ; it did not suit her pride. 
 
 So she was left homeless with £70 a-year. 
 
 " Ah ! but," you say, " she has enough to 
 live on." Supposing we take the trouble to 
 look into that matter ? She must live re- 
 spectably, to commence with. And a respec- 
 table family — say a widow's or a clergyman's, 
 would not take any girl to reside in their 
 comfortable house much under £50 a-year. 
 That leaves her just £20 for clothes, expenses, 
 and doctor's bills, should she be ill. 
 
 Have you ever tried to dress on £20, and 
 look always neat and fresh, and do a fair
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 65 
 
 amount of visiting, even in a quiet way ? If 
 so, you will probably recollect bow mucb you 
 bad over at tbe end of tbe year. 
 
 And tbat was Eenie Rudkin's position, 
 unless sbe worked, wbicb sbe fully intended 
 doing. And now conies anotber piece of in- 
 justice. Sbe wrote to ber uncle, asking bim 
 to allow ber to go eitber to Germany or to 
 France to learn tbe language ; sbe could not 
 learn it properly in England. N'o, be would 
 not allow ber to go, tbereby taking, at tbe 
 least, £20 out of ber pocket eacb year. 
 
 Sbe must work, and at tbat never failing 
 resort — teacbing. Now Renie was capable 
 of imparting Englisb, music, singing, and 
 drawing to cbildren, but sbe could not include 
 Frencb and feel able to do justice, so sbe 
 resolved to leave it out, and sbe would pro- 
 cure a situation as nursery-governess at £15, 
 or £20 at tbe very most, after years of ex- 
 perience. Sucb was ber prospect, and sbe 
 was, indeed, rigbt wben sbe said ber cbances
 
 66 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 of getting a living hung bj a thread. It did 
 truly, and, at the best, waiting is but weary 
 work, even if you hope to benefit in the end. 
 
 School commenced again, and Renie worked 
 doubly hard ; she was a very clever girl, and 
 the Misses Bird were not a little proud of 
 their pnpil. But the French was hopeless, 
 while everything else was a success. She 
 played and sang well, but drawing was her 
 forte, and her master might well regret part- 
 ing with her. 
 
 One afternoon in June, about a year after 
 the baronet's marriage, the long, low school- 
 room presented a comfortable, cheerful ap- 
 pearance. It was " drawing-day," that is, the 
 afternoon devoted to steady, earnest practice. 
 The French window that overlooked the 
 garden was wide open, and the birds sang 
 fearlessly, almost at the very steps. Silence 
 reigned, excepting now and then, the most 
 frequent remark being — " How hot it is !" 
 The little clock on the mantel-piece struck
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 67 
 
 four, and several looked up. But tliey did 
 not cease study till five, and the heads dropped 
 again. 
 
 " Pilgrim fathers ! I have put this cow's 
 leg wrong ; Renie, help me." 
 
 " Lend me your pencil then, Lucy ; there, 
 now it's right." 
 
 Mademoiselle came round and looked over 
 the girls' shoulders. 
 
 " That is good, my dear Renie ; you have 
 the taste." 
 
 " Of course she has. Mademoiselle," said 
 quick Lucy ; " Renie is going to cut a figure 
 before long. Don't believe it unless you 
 choose. Mademoiselle ; but I generally speak 
 the truth. Take for example the little pic- 
 caninny ; did I not say truly ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mademoiselle, nodding her 
 head. " Renie, what have they called that 
 miserable enfant f^ 
 
 " Addy tells me he is christened ' Rodney 
 Bevis.' She pronounces him a lovely boy.
 
 68 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 and she is not particularlj fond of cliildren, 
 so lie must be nice." 
 
 " Your sister, slie lias no children ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, Mademoiselle, all they have is 
 little ' Minnie,' and they think such a deal of 
 it." 
 
 " Are you going home these holidays, 
 Eenie ?" 
 
 " I have no home, Mademoiselle, so I stay 
 here. I shall not go to Zeigleheath till I 
 leave at Christmas. Uncle says I must go 
 then, but I don't think I shall remain long." 
 
 No one made any remark, and shortly after 
 Renie left the room by the window, which at 
 Hill Cottage was more used than the door in 
 summer time. 
 
 Then the Frenchwoman let her tongue run 
 a bit, and to not a little purpose. 
 
 " I am sorry for that poor Renie ; it is a 
 great blow to her. But it is the way with 
 you English : half the children are brought 
 up with the false ideas. Take Renie, par ex-
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 69 
 
 emple^ look at her. Led to believe she is to 
 make the heritage of Zeig — bah ! I cannot 
 saj that awful word — never mind, I will go 
 without — with her uncle. Bon I just when 
 she is leaving school — paf ! — he gets married 
 to a young thing, and before you can turn 
 yourself round, there is a babj, who will eat 
 up the money and everything, and Renie must 
 work. Heureusement elle en est capable^ mats 
 what of that ? Oh ! la, la ! you English ! 
 you are an ink bottle ; I cannot understand 
 you!" 
 
 Most of the girls were laughing, and Miss 
 Orton also. 
 
 ''Yes, Mademoiselle, I agree with you," 
 said Lucy Northwood; " it is a shabby trick. 
 It is not that Renie cares about so much money, 
 but Sir Bevis won't allow her to go abroad, 
 and says, ' You will never require it.' As 
 poor Renie says, it does not look as if she 
 wouldn't. And then there is Lady Rudkin. 
 Renie does not like the idea of being in the
 
 70 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 house on sufferance ; some young aunts are 
 very perky, and Renie won't stand that from 
 anyone ; and quite right of her too. What 
 do you say, Miss Orton ?" 
 
 " That Eenie is perfectly right, Lucy ; I 
 strongly recommend her to help herself, and 
 not trust to chance. Her uncle may remember 
 her in his will, and he may not, and I deem 
 her wise to provide against the contingency 
 if possible, and not allow the time that inter- 
 venes to slip away without making an effort. 
 She need not offend her uncle or aunt ; at the 
 same time it is everyone's privilege to find 
 for themselves, and if Sir Bevis is a sensible 
 man, he will think the better of her for it, 
 and appreciate her independence. Lucy, my 
 love, take your elbow off the table." 
 
 Miss Lucy did as requested, and proceeded 
 to put a tail to the cow, in the midst of which 
 occupation Eenie re-entered the room, and so 
 stopped all further comments on her affairs. 
 
 She was very like the Eenie of old, ouly
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 71 
 
 that she was considerably taller and thinner, 
 and had not very long been promoted to long 
 dresses and bonnets. She held herself well, 
 and, though not at all graceful, she was cer- 
 tainly a lady, and a well-educated one. She 
 looked quite twenty-one, though not seven- 
 teen till the 9th of November. It was her 
 last half at school, and on the 21st of Decem- 
 ber she was due at Zeigleheath.
 
 72 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Eenie is expected, and with no little delight 
 by one member of that household, and that 
 one is Dame Troost, the active, though aged 
 housekeeper. She has seen the two rooms set 
 apart for Renie snugly warmed and arranged. 
 They are not in the pleasantest part of the 
 house — my lady objected to the spare rooms 
 there being disarranged — so they are at the 
 extreme end, looking towards the water-mill, 
 and over the wide sea. To Mrs. Troost's 
 thinking, they were dismal, cheerless rooms, 
 and the good-hearted soul tried her best to 
 throw comfort into them.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 73 
 
 " But it is no use," said she at last, " these 
 rooms always give me the creeps ; I wonder 
 what my lady would have said if they had 
 been fixed on for Master Rodney's nurseries. 
 It is a shame to put Miss Renie into them, 
 poor dear ! but there's one blessing, she's not 
 timid, like Miss Addy. I know nothing on 
 earth would have got her into them. But she 
 had the best of everything, she had, the 
 master grudged her nothing. Ah ! them was 
 different days to these ! Anyway, I am not 
 going to ask my lady another thing ; I shall 
 speak to Sir Bevis himself about a maid for 
 Miss Renie. There's my niece, Christie 
 Parnell, just the very girl to suit my young 
 lady — neat fingers and little to say. I shall 
 just set Frost on the watch for an opportunity 
 for me to say a word to him without her at 
 his elbow." 
 
 Mrs. Troost was in earnest, and, catching 
 Frost later in the day, she said — 
 
 " Frost, just you tell me pretty much of 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 74 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Sir Bevis's movements in the morning, when 
 my lady is with him, and when she is not ; I 
 want a word with him." 
 
 " Yery good, Mrs. Troost," continued 
 portly Frost, straightening himself np like a 
 pouter-pigeon, and doing his best to look at 
 his shining boots, which, by reason of a pro- 
 trusion higher up, he was unable to do. 
 " Mrs. Troost, I don't fancy those two will 
 hit it." 
 
 " Those two ! I suppose you mean my 
 lady and Miss Eenie ? I don't fancy any- 
 thing about it, Frost, I feel convinced. On 
 one thing I could stake my life, and that is 
 that Miss K/enie won't take none of her lady- 
 ship's airs. If she has the sense to keep 
 them to herself, or show them to other people, 
 they may managa to live in the same house. 
 But I know Miss Eenie's disposition; for 
 that matter, I don't believe Miss Addy could 
 get along with her if they lived together." 
 
 " No, I don't believe she could either, Mrs.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 75 
 
 Troost. But Mrs. Howard is not like Miss 
 Renie, and never will be ; migiit as well try 
 to move a rock as Miss Eenie when her mind's 
 set : I'd a deal sooner undertake to move Sir 
 Bevis. Miss Renie is the living image of the 
 old mistress, Lady Dorothy." 
 
 " Yes, you are right, Frost, she is ; like her 
 father in face, but old Lady Dorothy in figure 
 and manner. She takes after our present 
 master in many things too. Ah, well, I must 
 go and see after the laundry maids ; don't 
 forget. Frost." 
 
 " No, you may rely upon me, Mrs. Troost." 
 
 Frost proved equal to the occasion. The 
 next morning, about half-past ten, he came to 
 the housekeeper's room. 
 
 " Mrs. Troost, now's your time or never. 
 My lady has gone to the nursery and Sir 
 Bevis is alone, reading the morning paper. 
 But don't waste any time, because she'll be 
 back directly, child and all." 
 
 Mrs. Troost put aside her work, worthy 
 
 E 2
 
 76 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 soul, and set off at a quick trot down the 
 passage and into the wide hall. She found 
 the door of the library ajar, and giving a sharp 
 tap, awaited the command to " come in," 
 which was given without any hesitation. 
 
 Sir Bevis was sitting at the table, rather 
 close to the fire. He seemed to feel the cold 
 this winter for the first time within the 
 memories of the old retainers, and they noticed 
 it. But he was an old man, and his blood 
 was chilled. However hard a man may be, he 
 cannot prevent age from creeping over him. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Troost, how are you this sharp 
 morning ? Is there anything I can do for you, 
 or is it Lady Eudkin you are seeking ?" 
 
 " No, Sir Bevis," replied the old dame, 
 curtseying, "it is you I want, not my lady. 
 I have come to speak about Miss Renie (dear 
 lamb), who comes back on Thursday. I have 
 got her rooms ready, and made them as com- 
 fortable as I can ; but they are dismal rooms 
 at the best, Sir Bevis."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 77 
 
 " And which may they be, Mrs. Troost ?" 
 
 " Why, those in the west wing, sir." 
 
 " The west wing ! How is it you have put 
 Miss Renie there, Troost?" 
 
 " Because my lady ordered it, Sir Bevis. 
 She would not allow any of the rooms to be 
 taken — no, not one ; so there was nothing for 
 it but those, or taking Miss E-enie away to 
 the back of the house, and I could not do 
 that^ sir." 
 
 Sir Bevis winced. 
 
 " No, Mrs. Troost, certainly not. You see, 
 the child coming has upset things ; Lady 
 Eudkin will have the best for him, and it is 
 the way with young mothers; we must excuse 
 them." 
 
 He looked at the housekeeper to see what 
 she thought, but she evidently did not think 
 with him ; her head was held stiffly, and not 
 so much as a bow of ribbon moved ; if her 
 mind was as stiff as her head there was no 
 hope for Lady Eudkin.
 
 78 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Sir Bevis coughed. 
 
 " What I came to speak to you about, sir^ 
 was a maid for our young lady. She must 
 have one, that is clear ; and I doubted not 
 but you would wish me to appoint one ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Troost ; Miss Renie must 
 have everything, remember." 
 
 " To be sure. Sir Bevis, to be sure. And I 
 will make so bold as to name my young niece, 
 Christie Parnell, for the place." 
 
 " Yery good, Mrs. Troost ; you had better 
 settle it at once." 
 
 " That I will, sir ; and I wish you a very 
 good morning. Sir Bevis." 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Troost." 
 
 The good creature bustled off, her face all 
 aglow ; she had carried the day, and if Lady 
 Eudkin had been appealed to it would have 
 been put a stop to at once, on the grounds 
 that there were already plenty of maids in 
 the house. Things were changed at Zeigle- 
 heath since the marriage of Sir Bevis, and
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 79 
 
 none knew it better than the housekeeper, 
 Jessie Troost. But she was not going to 
 ^ee the child of the place put on one side or 
 slighted by any young wife, if she could help 
 it. Renie was a sort of heirloom, something 
 that had been sent specially, in the eyes of 
 the Moordart people. And then the child's 
 oddity had made her noticed. There was 
 something very tender and touching in the 
 baby, so small and brown, that was ushered 
 into the world with tears and lamentations, 
 aye, and with curses — the baby that had been 
 cradled in strangers' arms and fed with a 
 bottle, whose little face had never borne the 
 impress of a mother's kiss. She had come, 
 and had not been welcomed, her childhood 
 liad been lonely and forlorn ; no one had 
 watched her first attempt to walk, no one 
 had listened with delight to the first lispings 
 of her baby tongue. She seemed to have 
 had no babyhood ; she had been brought up 
 hardly, because she had none of that affec- 
 tion that makes a child's life sweet.
 
 80 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 And now she was returning to what ought 
 to have been her home, to be treated by her 
 new aunt, most probably, as an intruder. 
 Never mind ! Mrs. Troost did her best, and 
 engaged her neat, pretty niece, Christie Par- 
 nell, as her maid, with a long lecture on duty 
 and faithfulness to her mistress.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 81 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 It was a sad parting at Hill Cottage that 
 Thursday morning. But the Misses Bird 
 made Renie promise them to return if she 
 was not happy, and to come and see them as 
 often as she could. Lucy Northwood, who 
 was also leaving, made half the journey with 
 . Renie, and of course lightened the way con- 
 siderably. Renie was not destitute of friends ; 
 plenty of her schoolfellows' homes were open 
 to her, as well as the Misses Bird's. 
 
 It was after four when the train stopped at 
 Moordart, and, of course, almost dark. The 
 
 E 5
 
 82 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 wind was very cutting as it whirled sharply 
 round the land from the sea. A carriage was 
 waiting for Renie, with Frost to see after her 
 luggage ; but she herself was quite equal to 
 coping with railway porters, however stupid. 
 
 " I have four boxes. Frost, and a roll of 
 wraps." 
 
 " Then all right, Miss Renie. Laws, miss ! 
 how you've changed." 
 
 " Have I?" replied Eenie, smiling. " I am 
 getting old. Frost, and it is time I thought 
 for myself; I am turned seventeen." 
 
 '' That's not much, Miss Renie, but you 
 looks eight-and -twenty," and he sighed. 
 
 The three miles' drive was at last over, and 
 all too soon for Renie, who had plenty to 
 occupy her mind. As the well-known land- 
 marks were passed, she remembered how dif- 
 ferent she had felt when last she passed them, 
 not troubled with too many cares for the 
 future, regarding Zeigleheath as a safe and 
 sure home. Now things were altered, herself
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 83 
 
 among them. She felt that she was about to 
 try an experiment, and, if it failed, she must 
 make her home amongst strangers. Some- 
 thing very hke tears glistened in the fine eyes 
 of this poor orphan girl as she thought of the 
 long years before her, the dreary waste she 
 had to cross. Do not imagine her a coward, 
 or faint-hearted ; she was not, but every girl 
 with power to think must be aware of the 
 difficulties and trials that await her who has 
 a path to cut for herself. 
 
 Renie Eudkin was no fool; she had not 
 lived seventeen years for nothing ; she knew 
 how old men like Sir Bevis marrying late 
 were led by their wives, and she did not 
 expect her uncle to prove an exception. She 
 only hoped that Lady Eudkin would be a 
 well-disposed woman and not jealous of her ; 
 what her appearance was she had no idea, 
 for Addy, not explicit at any time, seemed to 
 be paralysed when she wrote of Zeigleheath. 
 
 Perhaps the truth was, that Eenie was too
 
 84 THE MILL WHEEL^ 
 
 mucli annoyed to take tlie necessary trouble 
 to draw her out and lead her to impart news^ 
 so she felt now, on her way to the place, like 
 a person awaking out of a dream ; but she 
 had made a resolve, and that was, to try her 
 best to remain at Zeigleheath, at any rate 
 for a year or two. It was Miss Orton's 
 advice : " Keep peace, Renie, my dear, and 
 stay as long as you possibly can ; you are 
 very young to take a situation, and it is weary 
 work, child !" 
 
 It was good advice, and Renie recognised it 
 as such. She was not prejudiced against 
 Lady Rudkin ; she was going prepared for 
 anything, and to judge for herself of the 
 woman her uncle had set over her. 
 
 The carriage drove through the gates, and 
 soon stopped at the massive door ; the place 
 looked fit to stand a siege — it was put together 
 for use, not ornament. 
 
 In the hall Sir Bevis met her. 
 
 " Renie, my child, said he, taking her pale
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 85 
 
 face between his hands and kissing it, " I am 
 glad, very glad to see you, and so much 
 changed too !" 
 
 " Yes ! every one says I am changed, uncle; 
 you are looking pretty well." 
 
 " Pretty well only ?" 
 
 " WeU, I don't think it is veryr 
 
 " Then it must be pretty; you have a quick 
 eye, child; use it mercifully, Eenie. I am 
 not quite up to the mark, I am cold ; these 
 snowy winds cut me so." 
 
 He still held her hands and gazed at her. 
 He was thinking how like she was to her 
 father and his mother ; it might have been 
 Lady Dorothy herself who came up to the 
 hall — the same stately walk and commanding 
 carriage, the same figure. She was plainly 
 and inexpensively dressed in a dark cloth 
 dress and jacket, and a dark bonnet and veil. 
 There was something lonely about the sombre 
 garments that tallied only too well with the 
 dark earnest face in the bonnet, a face that 
 seemed to say, " I can stand alone."
 
 86 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Sir Bevis was startled — was this the child ? 
 Denis's little brown-faced baby ? He looked 
 in vain for some sign of girlhood — a ribbon, a 
 tip of colour peeping out, but it was not to 
 be seen. Everything was befitting a woman, 
 and not a weak one either. A thought flitted 
 across the baronet's brain, something about 
 money and clothes. 
 
 " E^enie, my dear, you are dressed like a 
 nun or a widow, how is it ? You are Miss 
 Rudkin, and only seventeen. I suppose your 
 wardrobe is poorly stocked, just coming from 
 school?" 
 
 Renie glanced at her things, and an odd look 
 came into the eyes she turned up to her uncle. 
 
 " I put on these dark things because I 
 came alone and second class ; I don't 
 like light ones, they don't suit my grave 
 face. These are not very shabby. But I 
 have plenty of suitable dresses, uncle ; Addy 
 sent me a lot of hers, and I have had them 
 made to fit me, and revised, so I shall do 
 nicely till my money is due."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 87 
 
 " Renie, what made you come second 
 class?" 
 
 Again tlie queer look. 
 
 " Because I did not care to spend more 
 than I could help ; indeed, I had not it. Mr. 
 Steel came and settled Miss Bird's account, 
 and there was only sufficient left to bring me 
 here, and leave a little in my pocket, so I 
 did not see the policy of giving it to the 
 railway company." 
 
 Sir Bevis fidgetted. 
 
 " I have been careless, Renie, my dear, but 
 come into my study in the morning, and I 
 wiU give you £20." 
 
 The dark face flushed. 
 
 " No, thank you, uncle, I can manage till 
 the middle of February; I prefer it." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " The Rudkin pride, Renie. Never mind, 
 I like it. And now you are warmer I want 
 you to see your aunt." 
 
 He turned, but, at that instant, a door just
 
 88 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 behind them opened, and Lady Rudkin 
 appeared. 
 
 Sir Bevis had followed his fate, like his 
 predecessors, and married a fair woman. 
 Renie examined her critically. 
 
 Yes, she was pretty, or, more correctly, 
 beautiful. She was of medium height, and 
 well formed. Her skin was perfectly white, and 
 her throat long and full, like a marble pillar. 
 The face was well-shaped, but plump, two dim- 
 ples danced in the round cheeks, the nose was 
 small and pretty, while the mouth was pursed 
 up like a child's. Her hair was much lighter 
 than Adeline's — in fact it was golden ; how 
 it was dressed at the back Eenie could not 
 see, but it was taken off the face somehow, 
 and two long curls, evidently natural, dropped 
 over her shoulders. Her appearance was 
 decidedly striking ; she was what the world 
 calls a beautiful woman. But she had a fault, 
 and it lay in the upper part of the face ; the 
 eyes were large blue ones, widely opened in a
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 89 
 
 very innocent, cliildisli manner. It was the 
 forehead that did not take Renie's fancy; 
 there was something deficient there, according 
 to her taste. 
 
 " Esther, my love, here is Renie waiting to 
 make your acquaintance." 
 
 She advanced with a bewitching smile and 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 " You have long been expected. Miss 
 Rudkin, particularly by Mrs. Troost ; is she a 
 great friend of yours ?" 
 
 Renie's eyes were doing their duty. 
 
 " Yes, Lady Rudkin, she is. Mrs. Troost 
 was very kind to me when a child, and I 
 never forget either kindness or unkindness." 
 
 Lady Rudkin laughed merrily, but retreated 
 a few steps, nevertheless. When Renie had left 
 the hall she tarned to her husband, and said — 
 
 " Your niece makes me nervous, Bevis ; 
 her eyes are wonderful." 
 
 " Yes, Renie's eyes are not to be trifled 
 with, any more than their owner. She will
 
 90 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 not, of course, reverence you mucli, Esther ; 
 you are far younger in mind than she is, so it 
 cannot be expected. There are five years 
 between you ; you are twenty-two, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes. Bevis, will she stay long?" 
 
 The old man turned sharply. 
 
 " Yes, I expect and hope so, Esther ; 
 recollect this is her home by right. Had 
 her father lived, he would have succeeded me, 
 and she would have been Miss Rudkin, of 
 Zeigleheath. But why do you ask ?" 
 
 "For no particular reason; I was only 
 thinking how she could be made useful." 
 
 " Esther ! what are you talking about ? 
 Eenie is not here to be made useful^ she will 
 please herself in everything." 
 
 Lady Eudkin laughed again, and put her 
 pretty face up. 
 
 " I did not mean anything, you silly old 
 darling ! it was stupid of me to say it. But 
 then I am not at all clever, and cannot help 
 saying absurd things ; can I ?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 91 
 
 "No," replied Sir Bevis, fondly kissing 
 the soft upturned face, " I don't expect you 
 to keep tliat silly head in order, there's not 
 much sense in it." 
 
 " Then why did you marry me, if I am such 
 a child?" 
 
 " Why do we do many things, Esther ? 
 The oldest men sometimes lose their heads, 
 my dear. But we won't argue the point, it 
 would not be wise ; go and get dressed, it is 
 nearly twenty minutes to six." 
 
 Renie had barely entered her room before 
 she was clasped in the stout arms of motherly 
 Mrs. Troost. 
 
 " Welcome home, my dear young lady, it 
 makes me feel younger to see you again. And 
 you must be tired with all that shaking in the 
 train. Christie, run away and bring Miss 
 Eenie a cup of good hot tea. It will keep you 
 up till dinner." 
 
 " I don't want any keeping up, Mrs. Troost ; 
 but I will not refuse a cup of good tea ; I used
 
 92 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 to be so fond of it when a child, do you 
 remember?" 
 
 " I should just think I did. I never look 
 back if I can help it, Miss Renie, since things 
 has got turned wrong side up. I never 
 expected to live to see what I have, more's 
 the pity. I suspect we are only at the 
 beginning of a very bad business, but I'll say 
 no more, since you're here." 
 
 " I presume you allude to my uncle's 
 marriage, Mrs. Troost ?" 
 
 The good soul made no answer, only rolled 
 her eyes. 
 
 " It must have astonished you all very 
 much ?" 
 
 " Astonished ! astonished, don't express it,. 
 Miss Eenie. When the news came we might 
 have all been took with the paralytics ; we 
 could not believe it at first, and afterwards, 
 when we saw it in the Times, I had spasms 
 awful for three days. I told them all that 
 another such shock would finish me, and
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 93 
 
 indeed it would so, Miss Eenie. Miss Addy, 
 
 too, poor dear ! Mrs. Howard, that is, how 
 
 she cried. You see, Miss Renie, it has upset 
 
 everything so, it is not so much the new lady, 
 
 but there's that child, and there's no telling 
 
 how many more '11 come. So you see, my 
 
 dear, I expect there will be nothing for any 
 
 one after the mother and child is served. 
 
 And Sir Bevis has given my lady such a power 
 
 of jewellery, spent a fortune on her, in fact." 
 
 " Indeed ! had she none of her own ?" 
 
 " Bless you, no ; she hadn't hardly a decent 
 
 rag to her back when he found her, let alone 
 
 ornaments. Is your tea nice, miss ?" 
 
 "Yery, Mrs. Troost," replied the girl, 
 drinking it ; and then looking up at the old 
 woman, she said — 
 
 " I think I know what you mean by 
 ' nothing for any one,' and I may as well tell 
 you I don't expect it. I am here to stay, if 
 possible, because I can improve the time, and 
 look about me. But if it becomes insupport-
 
 94 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 able, I shall leave, and take a situation as 
 governess." 
 
 "Miss Eenie, won't you go to Mrs. 
 Howard ? she has no children." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Troost, I will never live with a 
 brother-in-law on sufferance. I don't want 
 to cross uncle ; I respect and love him, and I 
 don't want his money, but if he had remained 
 single, I could have made my home here and 
 been a daughter to him. But that is all past 
 and gone, and it is no use talking about it. 
 What time is dinner now, Mrs. Troost ?" 
 
 " Half-past six. Miss Eenie, sharp. The 
 master is as particular as ever about that, so 
 I will leave you, and send Christie. She is 
 my niece. Miss Eenie ; you remember little 
 Christie Parnell ? she is about three months 
 younger than you, and she is your maid. I 
 trust she'll prove attentive and neat handed, 
 she has the name of it. Her father did want 
 her to be a dress-maker and milliner, and 
 commence business in the village, so he sent
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 96 
 
 her to London, and actually paid ten pounds 
 to get her into some fine shop, where they, 
 finding her taste superior, worked her nearly 
 to death. The girl was willing, but after 
 twelve months of it, her health gave way, and 
 she was obliged to come home. They wrote 
 for her to go back, but I would not allow it, 
 seeing as I never did approve of it, so I 
 engaged her by Sir Bevis's orders as your 
 maid, and I hope she may be faithful to you ; 
 she is very fond of you. Miss Eenie.'' 
 
 " Is she ? Well, we shall get along nicely, 
 depend upon it, Mrs. Troost ; and I shall be 
 glad of her dressmaking and millinery capa- 
 bilities, for I must be very careful." 
 
 Renie was dressed and downstairs in good 
 time. Lady Eudkin appeared a girl beside 
 the staid, sober-looking woman who so rarely 
 smiled. But it was a beautiful smile, and 
 gave quite a different aspect to her face. Sir 
 Bevis eyed her narrowly, but he could find no 
 fault ; so he smiled complacently, and warmed 
 his back at the fire.
 
 96 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 The dinner passed off amicably, and Lady 
 Rudkin talked and laughed a great deal. 
 E-enie very soon got tired of this, and hoped 
 it was not a regular thing. But it was, and 
 what is more, reckoned by a great many people 
 a special charm. 
 
 I am sorry I cannot agree with them. 
 There is nothing annoys me more, or sooner 
 rouses my temper, than incessant laughter. 
 There is something idiotic in that everlasting 
 giggle some ladies are afflicted with, or ad- 
 dicted to, I don't know which to call it. They 
 laugh at everyone, at everything, and at 
 nothing ; I would just as soon have a laugh- 
 ing hyena in my company — it is their 
 speciality, but it is certainly not a woman's, 
 or ought not to be. 
 
 There was a red spot on each of Renie's 
 cheeks as she accompanied Lady Eudkin to 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 It was a grand old room that, substantially 
 furnished, which is a thing not often seen 
 now-a-days. The thing at present seems to
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. ' 97 
 
 be Trho can produce tlie lightest chair on the 
 thinnest legs. A drawing-room is a place to 
 be avoided when strewn with fancy things 
 that crack while you look at them, and 
 forcibly remind you of an ornament shop. 
 But, thank heaven, that petty and detestable 
 fashion was not in vogue when Zeigleheath 
 was last open to improvements. 
 
 It was an immense room, and not overfilled 
 with furniture. There were large couches, 
 with three or four cushions on each in every 
 recess, and tables with books and views on 
 them to amuse people. The grates were 
 large, and held roaring fires. 
 
 Eenie looked round ; she remembered play- 
 ing hide-and-seek with Sir Bevis during Miss 
 Webb's time, and curling his white hair 
 before one of these fires. There was no 
 Lady Rudkin then to settle herself comfort- 
 ably by the cheery blaze, and compose herself 
 to sleep. It was a pity she could not sleep 
 for ever ; she looked so pretty and innocent. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 98 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 No one would ever have taken tliat dimpled 
 face to belong to a woman of twenty-two, and 
 a mother. She slept like a child, with her 
 rosy lips parted, and her long golden curls 
 clinging round the firm white throat. Her 
 hair was dressed in no particular style; it 
 was in profusion, and put up artistically, with 
 loose locks here and there. At one side was 
 posed a jewelled butterfly. Well might Mrs. 
 Troost say Sir Bevis " had spent a power of 
 money on her." There was no small display 
 that night. 
 
 Renie watched, and wondered about her 
 past life — had she had a happy home? a 
 tender, loving mother and father ? kind 
 brothers and sisters ? Yes, surely ; or she 
 could never have kept that smooth, childish 
 face. But Eenie was wrong : there are some 
 natures that cannot feel the world's smarts, 
 by reason of their shallowness. Their life 
 is a " Come-day-go-day-God-send-Sunday " 
 sort of existence, and they never cease being
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 99 
 
 diildren from tlie day tliej come into the 
 world, to the day they go out. It is, without 
 doubt, a peaceful, tranquil sort of mind, but 
 one does not envy them it. It is like the 
 silence of a dumb child, compulsory, and if 
 there is any feeling for it uppermost in our 
 hearts, it ought to be pity. There is nothing 
 very interesting in watching anyone sleep, 
 however pretty they may appear. So Renie 
 resolved to go and look about her till tea 
 came in, when, no doubt. Lady Rudkin 
 would rouse up. She had not considered it 
 necessary to keep awake for Renie's benefit — 
 it is wonderful the way some women draw 
 the line between themselves and their sup- 
 posed inferiors. 
 
 Renie went upstairs. Her object was to 
 see the child, the httle heir. But the house 
 had been changed ; the rooms were different, 
 and Renie was some time finding the exact 
 locality of the precious bit of flesh and blood. 
 My lady had a will of her own, if nothing 
 
 F 2
 
 100 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 else ; she would not have anything disturbed, 
 except for herself and child. The nurseries 
 were not far from her own room, and the best 
 of everything was in them. Eenie tapped 
 and entered. The night nursery was not 
 occupied, late as it was, but before the fire, 
 in the adjoining room, sat the nurse with a 
 little cherub of a baby boy on her lap — such 
 a lovely little creature ! he dazzled poor 
 Renie's eyes. The nurse was our old friend, 
 Mary, who was under-nurse in the days of 
 Eenie's babyhood. Old nurse had gone home 
 many years before, and Mary had married 
 Jem Muggins, the carpenter. But, after a 
 few years of wedded life, he had met with an 
 accident, poor fellow ! that caused his death. 
 He chopped his thumb while cutting a board 
 one morning, and lock-jaw set in, and he 
 died. It was a hard blow to poor Mary, but 
 she still had something left — his two children. 
 Perhaps she, in the desolation of her heart, 
 set too much store by them, and forgot her
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 101 
 
 God. So a fever wind blew to Moordart, 
 and wafted away their young lives, and Mary 
 was, indeed, desolate. When little Rodney 
 was expected. Sir Bevis asked her if she 
 would like to come back to the family, and 
 she gladly accepted the offer. 
 
 "How do you do, Mary ?" said Eenie, hold- 
 ing out her hand. 
 
 " Why, Miss Renie ! God bless you, my 
 dear young lady, I knew you would come to 
 see old Mary. We have both had our 
 changes, Miss Renie, and I can't say as you 
 look your age." 
 
 " That's what they all tell me, Mary," said 
 Renie, sitting down close to the fire. " You 
 have a pretty enough baby to nurse this time. 
 Is he good?" 
 
 " Yes, as good as can be expected ; he is 
 getting his teeth, and that makes him restless 
 at nights, so I take him up sooner than let 
 him lie and fret. What do you think of him, 
 Miss Renie ?"
 
 102 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " He is a beautiful little fellow, decidedly- 
 like his mother. I don't see any likeness to 
 the Rudkins. Let me hold him a bit; since 
 I am here, I may as well be friends with 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, you had, Miss Renie. My lady just 
 adores him." 
 
 " Mary, don't you like his mother?" 
 
 " No, Miss Renie, I don't. There, I sup- 
 pose I should not have said it; old nurse 
 used to tell me my tongue ran too fast, and 
 I expect it does. But I don't think I am 
 alone in this ; none of us old ones serves any 
 but the Rudkins, and while there's any of the 
 old stock left I'll stay if they will let me. 
 But, for all that, I can't help my feelings ; 
 they will rise, and no wonder either. How 
 do you like Lady Rudkin, Miss Renie ?" 
 
 " You are smiling, Mary. Well," and 
 Renie gazed thoughtfully into the fire, " I 
 have taken no particular fancy to her, but we 
 shall not clash, it would not suit me, and, for
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 103 
 
 anotlier thingj I don't think she'll interfere 
 with me." 
 
 " No, I don't think she will. Miss Eenie, if 
 you look at her like that ; it's a mercy as it's 
 you, and not Mrs. Howard, as is left. But 
 I'll tell you something, Miss Renie, she can 
 just turn master round her little finger." 
 
 " Indeed ! I was prepared for that, Mary ; 
 but it makes no difference to me that I see." 
 
 " Wait a bit, Miss Renie ; wait a bit, and 
 you'll alter your mind, or my name's not 
 Muggins. Where was my lady when you 
 came up ?" 
 
 "Asleep before the drawing-room fire, 
 looking as innocent as this child." 
 
 " Yes, I daresay ; but we needn't always 
 go by looks. Miss Renie ; I have been here 
 close upon a year, for I came a good while 
 before baby was born, and I can't be accused 
 of having wasted my time." 
 
 " Oh, Mary ! tell me, I quite forgot to ask 
 before. As I came along I met a person in
 
 104 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 the south corridor, wlio attracted my attention. 
 She is tall and rather stout, with a moustache 
 on her lips and sandy hair. Who is she ?'* 
 
 " Shepperton, Lady Rudkin's maid and 
 confidante. Mrs. Shepperton was all she 
 brought, Miss Renie, but when she got her 
 here she got enough." 
 
 "Who is she, Mary?" 
 
 " That's more than any of us know, not 
 even Sir Bevis himself, I don't believe. You 
 know, Miss Eenie, he met my lady at 
 Brighton and married her there, and when 
 she came home she brought Shepperton with 
 her as maid. From the little she has told me 
 I gather this : that she is either a relation of 
 my lady's, or has known her from a child. 
 But I believe she is some sort of a relation, 
 Miss Renie, and you had best be careful; 
 that long neck of hers is poking round every 
 corner continual. She and I don't get on 
 well; I won't have her here, and my lady 
 wished it, but I spoke my mind, and so there's
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 105 
 
 been no more said about it. I know how to 
 attend to children, and she does not, so I 
 can't see the use of her, except to carry tales 
 to my ladj. I told Mrs. Troost I should put 
 you on your guard, Miss Eenie, and I have 
 done it. I don't forget the years as I was 
 with you and Miss Addy at Dove Park. 
 Don't you think it's a pity Mrs. Howard has 
 no little ones. Miss Renie ?" 
 
 Eenie laughed. 
 
 "Xo, Mary, I don't. They are very con- 
 tented without, and I really don't see that 
 children are so necessary to happiness. I do 
 not deem it well to wish too ardently for any- 
 thing. If God thought it a good thing He 
 would send them." 
 
 " You're just what you always was, Miss 
 Renie, agreeable to wait. When a child you 
 never cried if you could not get anything, 
 but turned for something else. Are you tired 
 of holding Master Rodney, Miss Renie ? he's 
 a pretty tidy weight." 
 
 E 5
 
 106 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " No, but you can take him, for it is high 
 time I retraced my steps to the drawing-room ; 
 tea must be ready. I shall often pay you a 
 visit, Mary, and nurse baby for you. It is 
 something new to me ; I never held a child 
 in my arms before." 
 
 " Did you not ? Well, it comes uncommon 
 handy to you, and that's not the case with 
 every one. Some young mothers is awful 
 clumsy. My lady she can't nurse a bit, and 
 what's more Master Baby won't let her ; he is 
 a mighty particular young gent, ain't you, my 
 precious ?" and Mary went off into an 
 interesting conversation with the infant, to 
 Eenie's mystification, who, of course, did not 
 understand baby language, so she wished 
 nurse good night, and left the room.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 107 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Tea was just going in as Renie readied the 
 door, and Sir Bevis and Lady Rudkin were 
 talking and amusing themselves by the fire. 
 My lady was quite fresh after her sleep, and 
 looked all the prettier with her hair tumbled. 
 
 " Where have you been, Renie ? asked Sir 
 Bevis, turning^. Taking: a look over the 
 place, I suppose, and you, no doubt, see some 
 alterations ?" 
 
 ''Yes, a few, uncle; but my wanderings 
 did not extend further than the nurseries. 
 Rodney is a pretty little fellow."
 
 108 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Yes, he is, Renie ; your little cousin is a 
 pretty child," replied the Baronet, thought- 
 fully gazing into the fire. 
 
 " JSTow, Bevis, don't get dreaming," ex- 
 claimed Lady Rudkin, handing him his tea. 
 "Was your uncle always so afflicted. Miss 
 Eudkin ?" 
 
 "No, I believe not ; and I don't think 
 there is much appearance of it now, either." 
 
 " Nor I, Renie," laughed Sir Bevis ; " but 
 your aunt never seems to think five minutes 
 together herself, so when she sees anyone 
 else absorbed she concludes they are going 
 into a trance. Is that not so, my dear?" 
 and he patted her face. 
 
 Benie smiled ; she perceived what sort of 
 an understanding existed between her uncle 
 and his young wife. She would not like her 
 husband to pat her face, at any rate the action 
 would never be repeated. But Lady Rudkin 
 appeared to like it, for she turned the other 
 side, sweet creature !
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 109 
 
 Eenie did not sit up long after tea, she 
 pleaded fatigue after Iter journey, and said 
 good-night. 
 
 She kissed her uncle, but not his wife, and 
 a shadow crossed the old man's face. But 
 Renie could not kiss that beautiful, smiling 
 face, do what she would. 
 
 " I will wait," said she, to herself, going 
 upstairs, '' wait and see what colour Time 
 will put on things — they are not tinted with the 
 shade I like best at present." 
 
 "Can I help you, Miss Renie?" asked 
 Christie, as she seated herself by her sitting- 
 room fire. 
 
 " i^o, Christie, only by going to bed, and 
 to sleep. Where is your room ?" 
 
 *' Close at hand, ma'am, up these stairs, to 
 the right, next to this, only higher." 
 
 " Are you afraid to be up there alone, 
 Christie ?" 
 
 '' 'No, Miss Renie, not at all, and the view 
 of the sea is lovely. But this bell is for you
 
 110 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 to ring me, and I sleep very lightly, so 
 you won't ever have mucli trouble in rousing 
 me." 
 
 " No, I don't think I shall, Christie," said 
 Renie, laughing, " for I don't intend to try 
 the experiment. There is never anything the 
 matter with me, and I am accustomed to 
 assist myself; but I don't go to bed early, so 
 you need not be frightened if you hear me 
 moving." 
 
 '' Very well, ma'am. I have put your 
 dresses away. Miss Renie, and placed your 
 night clothes by the fire, but if there is any- 
 thing missing, please ring. Good-night, 
 ma'am." 
 
 " Grood-night, Christie." 
 
 When the girl had gone, Renie rose and 
 turned the key, then passed into her bedroom 
 and locked that door, thereby securing herself 
 from all intruders, and looked round. 
 
 They were two old-fashioned rooms, exces- 
 sively grand and proportionately dismal.
 
 THE mr.L WHEEL. Ill 
 
 The west wing was fhe oldest part of the 
 building, and the rooms were planned most 
 curiously. These two large ones that Renie 
 had were originally the state rooms, and the 
 furniture was heavy and sombre. 
 
 She looked but a speck standing there, at 
 the foot of the great bed, the bed on which 
 the old knights, her grandfathers and great 
 grandfather, had drawn their last breath. 
 
 It was the first time a Rudkin had so stood, 
 so poor, in a chamber haunted by the ghost 
 of her departed ancestors' greatness ; she was 
 staying on sufferance in the home of her 
 fathers. 
 
 The girl heaved a sigh, and the longing of 
 her life was repeated ; it was the one regret, 
 the one wish of her heart. At school it had 
 been the cry when a child, now it was the cry 
 of a woman just waiting the least change in 
 the wind to blow her out into the world — 
 Father. How she wanted that father God 
 only knew. Renie did not cry, she had done
 
 l'J2 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 that many a time and been no better, and she 
 was one who benefitted by experience, so she 
 only sighed again, and returned to her seat by 
 the fire. Once there, she allowed herself time 
 to think, and to turn over recent events in her 
 mind. 
 
 First and foremost in the train came Lady 
 Rudkin. Renie knit her broad brows ; she 
 always did that when perplexed. She was 
 going to pass judgment on the fair-skinned 
 woman, who, had she but seen her judge, 
 would have forgotten to laugh. There was 
 not much mercy to be expected from that girl 
 judge. Renie Dorothy was like her grand- 
 mother Lady Dorothy, hard as flint when put 
 to the test. She never made a wrong judg- 
 ment ; her opinion of people proved always 
 correct, and nothing could induce her to alter 
 it. 
 
 She sat now quite still, deeply thinking ; 
 she weighed every word, look, and action of 
 her aunt's, during the short time she had
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 113 
 
 seen her. A pause — then as deliberately and 
 solemnly as the judge puts on the black cap 
 and condemns his prisoner, so Renie put on 
 her black cap and condemned Esther, Lady 
 E/udkin, having found her guilty according to 
 the dictates of her mind and conscience. 
 
 They would be on good terms because 
 E-enie intended it ; but to accomplish it she 
 must keep out of her way as much as possible* 
 Renie did not want to look over the screen 
 set up before her aunt oftener than she could 
 help. It is wiser not to meddle with cracked 
 things, for fear they come to pieces in your 
 hands. Eenie's reflections were prolonged 
 far into the night, but she slept at last, and 
 peacefully too. 
 
 The next day Renie walked over to Beach 
 Cliff to see Addy and Norman. It was just 
 perfection, she thought as she entered, 
 everything in its place and a place for every- 
 thing. But they had it all to themselves, 
 with the exception of Minnie, a pretty little
 
 114 THE MILL WHEEL, 
 
 rough haired terrier, who was just about as 
 sensible and educated as a dog could be. 
 She appeared at dinner, and when dessert 
 was going on ran about the table, never up- 
 setting anything, and stealing almonds so 
 prettily that none could find it in their hearts 
 to whip her. Minnie and Isabella opened the 
 door for Renie, and while one smiled and 
 looked pleasant, the other was equally busy 
 barking. In the kitchen could be heard 
 Polly displaying her ability. 
 
 " Who's the Queen of England ? Victoria. 
 Cook, bring Polly a pint of beer." 
 
 " Oh ! Penie, I am so pleased to see you !" 
 exclaimed Addy. 
 
 " Yes, delighted, Penie," continued ISTor- 
 man, making a droll face. " And so's Mingie, 
 arn't you Mingie ?" 
 
 With this he squeezed her so tightly that 
 the little thing grunted again. 
 
 " Ah ! Norman, I am sure you hurt Minnie ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it, she likes it ; Mingie and I
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 115 
 
 are excellent friends. Now then, you little 
 beggar, don't bite. And how are you, Eenie ? 
 That's a beast of a hat you've got on. Don't 
 look so glum ; what's up ? Ah ! I forget ; it's 
 that young man with the black moustache. 
 How was he when you left him, Eenie ?" 
 
 " Don't talk rubbish, ISTorman. I don't 
 know any young man with a black moustache* 
 And how are you two ?" 
 
 " Well, Addy is only middling ; but the 
 child and I are quite well. And what do 
 you think of your new aunt, Renie ?" 
 
 " Can't quite say, Norman. I only saw her 
 last evening." 
 
 " Oh 1 indeed, can't say ; how polite we are 
 all of a sudden. That means don't like her. 
 She made a great impression on Addy the 
 first time she saw her, so much so that she 
 wept all night, and her lovely cheek was glued 
 to the pillow in the morning." 
 
 " Eenie, how do you like her ?" asked Addy, 
 dropping a ball of wool.
 
 116 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Botli Addy and Norman were watching 
 Renie's face; but she was cautious and 
 " cute." 
 
 " Really Addy you press me too much ; 
 but I think I may safely echo the world's 
 decree that she is a sweet woman. Norman, 
 how do you like her ?" 
 
 . " Ahem ! blest if I can tell, Renie. I can 
 make neither head nor tail of her ; she does 
 nothing but laugh, and as for her family, 
 there's no getting up to it; might as well 
 try to trace Blue Beard's family as hers. I 
 have come to the conclusion that she adopted 
 the potato plan and sprouted on her own 
 account. But one thing's certain, and that 
 is she has the old gentleman's head in a noose. 
 Now, Renie, just be candid ; we sha'n't take 
 you up for defamation of character; what 
 do you think of her ?" 
 
 " Nothing !" 
 
 " Well, you couldn't think much less. It 
 seems to me everyone's alike, afraid of putting
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 117 
 
 their liead in a trap. Therefore I shall set 
 them the example. I don't understand Lady 
 E/udkin, and never have done, and Addj here 
 does not like her owing to her calling the 
 child a ' horrid little wretch.' Now, Addy 
 and I are in the trap, won't you join us, 
 Eenie?" 
 
 " No, Norman," replied Renie, laughing, 
 " T will keep free and watch my opportunity 
 to let you out. It is only a bad general that 
 gets all his men taken captive ; I am not a 
 mouse to be caught by a piece of cheese." 
 
 " No, I don't think you are ; your head's 
 screwed on the right way. What on earth 
 induced your respected uncle to tie himself up 
 is a mystery to me ; he had no more inten- 
 tion of it when he left here than I have this 
 moment of getting a couple of cabbage leaves 
 and trying to fly. I never believed it till I 
 saw the angel smiling divinely in his face. 
 It's a blue look out for you two girls ; better 
 make a rush for it, and get married Eenie.
 
 118 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Take my word for it, your beauty won't keep." 
 
 Addy and Eenie laughed. 
 
 " True as truth, Norman, seeing I have not 
 any ; if I had I should get your receipt for 
 preserving it. But I intend to leave matri- 
 mony alone ; at any rate till I see how it 
 agrees with other people." 
 
 " What ! don't you consider Addy and me 
 respectable specimens of bliss ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but you are not the only people in 
 the world ; for my rule I want the majority, 
 not an exception." 
 
 " Well, this is a novelty ; here's a girl 
 actually reducing matrimony to fractions. 
 How many particles have you got it to, 
 Eenie ?" 
 
 " Two; good and bad." 
 
 '' That's decided, at any rate ; and now, I 
 suppose, you are about to calculate the cost 
 of which may fall to your lot. Is there no 
 medium, Eenie, no go-between ?" 
 
 " Yes, there is ; but that, in my opinion, is
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 119 
 
 the worst. It is a state which seems to me I 
 can best describe as, ' not ill enough to kill, 
 but too ill to cure.' If I married to that sort 
 of an existence I should go mad. I must have 
 a man who will love me as his life, or one who 
 thoroughly detests me, then I should know 
 how to act ; but I could not stand that horrid 
 medium, l^orman, which appears to be the 
 fate of so many." 
 
 " It is pretty evident you are not in love, 
 Eenie, or your perception would not be so 
 clear. Cupid throws dust in one's eyes, but 
 mind the biter does not get bitten, as Addy 
 here — wise little wife — says. It is astound- 
 ing the amount of sober sense that follows 
 matrimony." 
 
 *' Indeed !" replied Renie, smiling ; " but it 
 greatly depends, I should say, upon your age 
 when you enter that state. I intend to try 
 and get a trifle before hand to assist me in 
 crossing ihe bridge. I am young yet, you 
 see ?"
 
 120 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " No, I don't see ; you are getting as old 
 and miserable looking as Mrs. Troost ; any- 
 one would take you for eight-and-twenty, eh, 
 Addy ?" 
 
 '' Yes, Norman is right, you are getting to 
 look old and haggard." 
 
 " Then, I think, I had better go, for fear 
 they won't take me in at Zeigleheath; I must 
 have aged since I came out." 
 
 " Which way do you go, Renie ?" 
 
 " The nearest — round by the beach ; by the 
 way, the path under the cliffs is very much 
 worse ; I must speak to uncle about it. I 
 wonder if a rail could not be put ?" 
 
 " It could, certainly, but it won't." 
 
 " Sir Bevis likes it in its dangerous con- 
 dition; he told me so. It is one of the 
 aristocratic fancies he plumes himself on 
 possessing. If I had a child I would have a 
 tussle with him about it ; but as our only one 
 has four legs I don't think it worth my while. 
 And the native babies are as sure-footed as
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 121 
 
 goats. Nevertheless it is dangerous, especially 
 when it is windy, be you as strong as a lion, 
 so take care, Henie, and hold your petticoats 
 down, or we shall be reading of a floating 
 body having been seen off Hailey End ; be 
 careful, if only for the sake of the young man 
 with the black moustache." 
 
 "Yes, I will; unless the elements compel 
 me I shall not take a cold bath. Good-bye." 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 122 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Eenie was a quick walker, and soon reached 
 the cliffs. The tide was coming in, roaring 
 with all its might, like some savage beast 
 ready for its prey. It was a noted place for 
 wrecks, and the boat house was just along- 
 side a large rock. 
 
 It needed a background and a sheltered 
 spot to stay there all the year round. Eenie 
 shivered and drew her jacket closer round her. 
 It was a bleak, cheerless walk, and the young 
 girl hailed Zeigleheath with delight, gloomy 
 though it was. There was no Christmas fun
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 123 
 
 going on, the mistletoe bough was not enjoyed 
 anywhere but in the servants' hall, and with 
 the exception of Addy and Norman coming 
 on Christmas and New Year's Day, and a 
 round of ponderous and awfully heavy dinner 
 parties, it was no different to midsummer. 
 
 Ah! how Renie pined for the low-roofed 
 school-house, and the merry parties and jolly 
 dances, where there was so much real enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 She seemed to be growing quite ancient 
 amid so many rusty, musty things. The only 
 being that appeared out of reach of the sur- 
 roundings was my lady. She did a bit of 
 needlework, played with her boy, and then 
 called that never failing resource to her aid — 
 sleep. What a friend is Morpheus to some 1 
 Hours did Lady Rudkin pass in his arms, and 
 then wake up quite refreshed and gay, ready 
 to laugh and chatter rubbish into her husband's 
 ears, perfectly unconscious that it had rained 
 since lunch time< 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Renie did not spend mucli of lier time 
 downstairs ; her sitting-room was the seat of 
 mncli thought and labour, for she was not 
 without ambition or an object. Her aim in 
 life was to be an artist; that she had the 
 talent she was fully aware, and she loved her 
 art dearly. It was no child's play, the pur- 
 pose was a very earnest one ; she was trying 
 to put herself out of the reach of want, and 
 necessity is a stern master. But her work 
 was done in secret ; she kept a few sketches 
 at hand, but her real study, her hope, she 
 worked at secretly. 
 
 Ere the summer came she had become pale 
 and thin, she had so many difficulties to con- 
 tend with up in that west wing alone, so 
 much to learn, and as her soul expanded she 
 despised her previous pictures, and nothing 
 could satisfy her. It was time someone came 
 to her aid ; the six months of toil were tell- 
 ing on the girl's frame, and she was getting 
 disgusted for want of comparison, she saw no
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 125 
 
 one else's attempts, and she scoffed at her 
 own. I think you will agree with me that 
 she was in a bad way. But the west wing 
 was not now so cheerless as formerly ; Eenie 
 had plenty of life about her, and sometimes 
 sang at her work. Christie thought there 
 never was so sweet a singer as Miss Renie, 
 and it spurred her on to do great things with 
 old garments, for Renie was saying her money 
 like a prudent girl, and she made no attempt 
 to screen her need from her maid. 
 
 Christie Parnell was blessed with sense, 
 and she appreciated her young mistress's re- 
 solution, and did all she could to help her. 
 
 She believed Renie was saving for a wise 
 purpose, and nothing pleased her better than 
 to see the pictures that grew so rapidly. She 
 did not know which she liked best, but she 
 really thought it was " My Pet." And 
 Christie had a good notion — it was one of 
 the best things the youthful artist had done. 
 The picture was painted in water colours, and
 
 126 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 represented a chubby baby in its diemise^ 
 with its little fat feet spread out before it, 
 and a mischievous grin on its face. 
 
 " My Pet" was Rodney, next heir to the 
 Rudkin lands. Renie had some little difficulty 
 at first to prevent Christie confiding the 
 secret of the West Wing to anyone, but 
 when she fully understood the harm that 
 trumpeting does she was contented to wait 
 till her mistress had achieved some success, 
 and meanwhile lent her aid to preserve the 
 truth a secret, and lock the doors when any- 
 thing of importance was in hand. 
 
 If a sudden call came, Renie had to go at 
 once, for fear of exciting suspicion, but she 
 knew all was safe, Christie would stand at her 
 post no matter what came, and ward off all 
 intruders. One of the most frequent and 
 persevering of the last set was the baby boy 
 Eodney. He had taken an immense fancy to 
 Eenie, and, being pretty strong on his legs, 
 he never failed to make his way to her rooms
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 127 
 
 once a day, if not oftener. They could hear 
 him stamping along the corridor with a woolly 
 baa lamb clasped proudly to his bosom, and 
 upon which he fell every half yard. But 
 there was no yell of rage, he had one in- 
 tention, and that was to reach E-enie's rooms ; 
 so he scrambled up, lisping, " Up adin,'* 
 and always arrived quite out of breath. At 
 first Renie was rather afraid of the result of 
 these visits, bat Christie soon set that right, 
 and took the bull by the horns without a 
 moment's loss of time. 
 
 " The best thing we can do is to let him in 
 when we hear him, else he'll rouse the house, 
 and then they'll want to know why we won't 
 have him. Locked in here with us, he's safe, 
 and so are we, for whatever he sees he can't 
 tell it, so I'll just tell nurse. Miss Renie, that 
 when Master Baby comes we'll take care of 
 him, and she needn't bother her head about 
 him. And I'll take good care he does not 
 teaze you."
 
 128 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 So it was settled, and very wisely too. 
 
 Renie was not particularly fond of young 
 children, but somehow Rodney would not be 
 repulsed. He was so determined, he'd try 
 and try again if he wanted to get anything. 
 And if he made up his baby mind to sit on 
 her knee, on her knee he'd sit, and struggle 
 and grunt till he got up. It was that which 
 made Renie take to him, and then he was 
 such a lovely boy, no one could be indifferent 
 to him. So many and many a day saw those 
 two when work was over sitting in the win- 
 dow seat clasped in each other's arms, watch- 
 ing the sun lower itself gradually into the 
 sea. Then the baby fingers would stroke her 
 cheek, '' All done, aunty ?" 
 
 What a wonderful charm there is in baby's 
 fingers to be sure ! The soft, clinging, 
 lingering touch which asks protection so con- 
 fidently and artlessly, and makes the weakest 
 woman feel brave. Ah! little whispering 
 loves ; God's blessed little peacemakers, when
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 129 
 
 Death's shadows gather round roe may baby 
 fingers stroke my wrinkled face ! 
 
 It was one eyening, when the sun, as if 
 aware of his grandeur and loth to go, had 
 taken an unusually long time to sink into his 
 rocking cradle, the sea, that someone, unper- 
 ceiyed, entered the sitting-room. 
 
 It formed a pretty picture, the two so 
 intent on the ball of fire, their cheeks pressed 
 close together, one dimpled hand stretched 
 out, noting the direction of the disappearing 
 orb. The child, all eagerness, with tossed 
 curls, parted lips, and flushed cheeks, 
 clasped lightly, yet all safely, in the arms 
 of the thoughtful girl. 
 
 There was something secure and trustful 
 in that face, something that made a silent 
 promise of great things. 
 
 Sir Beyis, for it was he, stood and looked 
 with half a smile on his face, and at last, as 
 if unable to contain himself any longer, 
 heayed a deep sigh of thankfulness. 
 
 g5
 
 130 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " All ! uncle, how you startled me," ex- 
 claimed Renie, turning. " I never heard you 
 enter." 
 
 " Pa, dot a deal of vind/' said master baby, 
 sitting bolt upright on Renie's lap ; " and, 
 aunty, dot a deal of brus." 
 
 Sir Bevis laughed ; not so Renie, the brus 
 was ringing in her ears. So much for 
 Christie's knowledge of infants. It was 
 pretty evident that what Rodney had seen for 
 the last half year was fixed in his mind, and 
 he only awaited the power of speech to impart 
 it to everyone. 
 
 He had already conquered the key to the 
 mystery, namely, the word " brush," which 
 no doubt he had heard Renie or Christie make 
 use of. 
 
 " Rodney, darling, nurse will be looking 
 for you ; it is past your usual time, and I am 
 not dressed yet. Run along, pet." 
 
 The little fellow looked very much inclined 
 to say " me stay," but he loved his aunty
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 131 
 
 dearly, so he made no demur beyond kissing 
 her, and saying — 
 
 " Dood-bye, aunty," and toddled away. 
 
 " That's a little man," said his father, kiss- 
 ing the round cheek, and watching him along 
 the corridor. It is a queer notion, that of 
 his calling you Aunty, Eenie." 
 
 " Yes, it is, uncle ; I have told him it is 
 ' cousin,' and I have heard Lady Rudkin tell 
 him the same thing ; but somehow he persists 
 in its being aunty." 
 
 " Well, I am not averse to the fancy if you 
 are not, it seems far more suitable, and I wish 
 it were the case ; at any rate it is an agreeable 
 fiction, so we will leave it alone." 
 
 '^ Why, uncle?" 
 
 "Aye, 'why,' child," and the old man sighed 
 again. " Renie," and he sank into a chair 
 close by the window, " Renie, do you know 
 that child, that baby's life, is like a ton weight 
 on my conscience ; I wake in the still night, 
 and out of the darkness there comes a plain-
 
 132 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 tive cry — my baby's — I feel tlie drops start 
 on my brow, for I know I must leave him 
 some day next to alone in tlie world. I wish 
 it had been a girl, because I could have 
 managed better. When I die I shall leave 
 Eodney without a guide in the midst of 
 temptations. I cannot expect to live many 
 years ; my time is already run. But, Eenie, 
 I want you to be a guide to my boy ; promise 
 me," and he stretched out his shrivelled 
 hands. " Promise me that when I am gone 
 you will take care of my child." 
 
 Eenie shrank back. 
 
 " Ah ! uncle, how am I to keep such a pro- 
 mise, even if I make it ? Our paths will be 
 so opposite ; and then there is Lady Eud- 
 kin ?" 
 
 Sir Bevis winced. 
 
 " Never mind his mother, don't count upon 
 her ; she is young and pretty, and no doubt 
 would marry again. Eenie, there is no one 
 but you ; you and the child are the last of
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 133 
 
 the name of Rudkin ; will you not cling to- 
 gether ? I know it is a great burthen to ask 
 jou to carry, but I have every confidence in 
 your ability to accomplish it, and I freely give 
 my baby's future to your keeping. I will 
 accord you the power if you will only act. 
 He is attached to you. Renie, I beseech you 
 to protect and love my child." 
 
 " I do love him, uncle." 
 
 " Yes, I know you do, I have seen that ; 
 but it is another love I crave for my lad, 
 more of a mother's love, a love that will 
 succour him in time of need, and correct his 
 faults, a steady hand always extended to him. 
 Renie, I know you are equal to it ; will you 
 not accept the trust ?" 
 
 "I feel afraid to take it, uncle, I am so 
 young and poor, with my way to make if it is 
 ever to be made ; and I am not content to 
 stand for ever on the same spot, I may tell 
 you. The boy would be a drag to me, and, 
 then, if I married how then ? if I take Rodney
 
 134 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 I must waive all other claims, and do right by 
 him ; it is too sacred a charge to put aside 
 for another fancy, therefore give me time to 
 think it over before I make any promise." 
 
 " Ah, E-enie, I know what is passing in 
 your mind, how I have kept my brother's 
 trust. Child, I know I have fallen short ; 
 that I have acquitted myself badly, but I will 
 try to make up for it now, and you will not be 
 so very poor if I can only live a little longer. 
 But we are told ' Out of evil comes good.' 
 Grod grant it so in this case. Think it over, 
 Renie, and don't discard my child because of 
 the selfishness of his father." 
 
 Without another word he stooped and 
 pressing a kiss upon the girl's broad forehead, 
 left the room. 
 
 The dressing bell rang, but Renie did not 
 move ; she sat with her hands lying idly on 
 her knee, staring out over the sea. She was 
 trying to realise the full importance of the 
 trust ; her sense of justice was great, she
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 135 
 
 would do right, and without slie felt pretty 
 sure of faithfully discharging her duty, she 
 would not undertake it. True, the child was 
 as yet a baby, and he might not live ; if he 
 did they would be both getting old and ex- 
 perienced together, so that what the eye 
 coveted the hand would be able to grasp. If 
 she refused her old uncle, was it a kind 
 Christian act ? No ; Grod intends us to help 
 one another, even if we suffer in the attempt 
 ourselves ; and as for the way he had kept 
 her father's trust, it was not for her to deter- 
 mine. That is the work of the Great Judge. 
 So Renie resolved that when he again 
 asked, her answer should be ready. She cer- 
 tainly did feel in a maze ; her own success 
 yet to be achieved — how, she was not by any 
 means sure, yet she could not |)ut down the 
 "bruss," as Rodney called it. Something 
 told her to struggle on, and lay by a store, 
 for that when the start did take place she 
 would go off with a run. There was certainly
 
 136 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 no lack of faitli or hope about the girl-artist. 
 Doubts and fears were quickly dispelled by 
 the entrance of the brisk Christie. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! Miss Renie ; it's five 
 minutes off dinner, and you not commenced 
 to dress. Was there ever the likes of this ?" 
 
 '' I really cannot say, Christie," replied 
 Eenie, laughing and slipping her dress off. I 
 shall be ready, never fear, and if not Sir 
 Bevis can't be vexed, for it was he who kept 
 me." 
 
 " The master up here I whatever put it into 
 his head. Miss Renie ?" 
 
 " Having something to say, I suppose ; at 
 any rate, our grand secret had a narrow 
 escape, Christie." 
 
 " How, Miss Renie, there was nothing 
 out?" 
 
 " N^o, nothing except master baby's 
 tongue ; and he informed his papa that 
 ' Aunty had a deal of bruss.' Fortunately 
 Sir Bevis never pressed the matter, and I
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 137 
 
 persuaded the young monkey to go. But it 
 just sliows you what it is to let children see 
 things." 
 
 "Well, I should as soon have expected 
 that stuffed linnet to start piping as master 
 baby to begin repeating things ; he never 
 seemed to notice what you did as long as he 
 got amused himself. We must just keep him 
 out, Miss Eenie, that's all." 
 
 " I am afraid it's too late to commence 
 that. Never mind, Christie, I shall be ready 
 by the time his tongue is."
 
 138 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTEH IX. 
 
 A FEW days after tlie scene in Eenie's room, 
 Sir Bevis said to her — 
 
 *' Renie, you are not looking quite well ; 
 you are pale and tMn. I fear you find us too 
 dull. Ask some of your friends to stay a few 
 months with you ; I shall be pleased to see 
 them." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle, I will, but only one at 
 a time." 
 
 Without delay Eenie wrote to Lucy North- 
 wood, whose epistles arrived every Sunday 
 morning regularly.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 139 
 
 The Northwoods were kind to Renie in 
 speaking of her to people of influence ; and 
 the last letter received from Lucy contained 
 the following welcome news : — 
 
 " An old gentleman, a retired tradesman, 
 but immensely wealthy, desired Miss North- 
 wood's friend to select him two pictures, and 
 he would buy them at a fair price ; and if she 
 did them well he would be happy to recom- 
 mend her to his friends." 
 
 This, of course, was a great step taken, 
 and after due care and consideration two were 
 selected and sent off, one being Christie's 
 favourite "My Pet," the other a landscape 
 near Moordart. Since then nothing had been 
 heard of either the old gentleman or Lucy, 
 and Renie was rather fidgety. 
 
 But she need not have been. The truth 
 was she had taken them all by storm ; the 
 hard work had not been for nothing. The 
 west wing with all its gloom had sheltered a 
 genius.
 
 140 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Old Mr. Twinkleton walked up and down 
 before the pictures, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " Bless my soul and body ! it's just won- 
 derful ; and a friend of yours. Miss Lucy ! 
 Why, she'll have a little fortune made before 
 she's thirty. Couldn't have believed such a 
 thing possible ; and no teaching to speak of ! 
 Entirely Nature's gift — a natural talent, 
 madam, — a natural talent ! Pity she is not 
 your girl, Mrs. Northwood." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Mr. Twinkleton, it is ; but 
 she is poor, though of gentle birth. How 
 much are they worth ?" 
 
 " Eh ? These pictures ? Worth ? Ah 1 
 that's just the question. This is not a case 
 of merit, but of name ; we pay for name, 
 madam, and so must your young friend. 
 She is a beginner, no one knows her, she has 
 no name, so she must be contented with what 
 anyone will give her till she makes one, then 
 she can put her own price on her pictures. 
 This (pointing to 'My Pet'), if it were the
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 141 
 
 production of some R.A., an artist of note, 
 would be clieap at fifty or sixty ; as it is, I 
 will give her fifteen for it, and seven for the 
 bit of scenery. Sound is a great thing in 
 this world, my dear Mrs. Northwood, we all 
 follow it. You can tell your young friend, 
 Miss Lucy, to send along some more, and I 
 will dispose of them amongst my friends ?" 
 
 " Thank you very much, Mr. Twinkleton ; 
 I will do so at once." 
 
 The letter was not posted when Eenie's 
 note arrived, and Mrs. Northwood at once 
 decided to let Lucy go, and remain as long as 
 they liked. 
 
 The acceptance and good news were sent 
 off that night, and you can imagine Renie's 
 delight. As for single-minded Christie Par- 
 nell, she first laughed, and then, like the 
 generality of women, had a good cry, after 
 which she said she felt much better. 
 
 " There now. Miss Eenie, don't laugh at 
 my telhng fortunes with a tea cup ; yours is
 
 142 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 coming true, sure enougli. It was all plain 
 as daylight, only you would not see it ; but I 
 did. There you was all elevated among the 
 tea leaves, and though I turned you three 
 times, you stuck as fast as a leech !" 
 
 " Well, I promise not to ridicule you again, 
 Christie. Miss Northwood will be here on 
 Thursday." 
 
 " Indeed, ma'am ! Then I had best be 
 overhauling your things, for I suppose she'll 
 bring the latest styles with her ?" 
 
 " No, indeed, she won't ; Lucy has not got 
 any longer purse than myself, and I daresay 
 you can improve her things for her, Christie." 
 
 " I shall be very pleased, I am sure, ma'am. 
 But, Miss Henie, don't you think if we was to 
 go to Stokely, say to-morrow, you would see 
 something you fancied ? Mrs. Howard gets a 
 deal of her things there, or they send to 
 London for what's ordered." 
 
 " Yes, Christie, I am certain I should if I 
 went ; but I don't intend to. I know what
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 143 
 
 you are thinking, that I can now afford some 
 fresh clothes, having made a little money. 
 But I am not going to spend it, my good 
 Christie ; but I'll tell you what I'll do, and 
 that is, if fine to-morrow, send you by the 
 quarter to ten train to get me some new 
 trimmings for a bonnet and hat, some gloves, 
 and a present for yourself." 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss Renie !" 
 
 " I say oh, yes, Christie ! Get black net 
 and lace, and some white lilies or some pretty 
 quiet flower, and black for my hat also." 
 
 " Do have some colour, Miss Eenie !" 
 
 " Well, you may get some good pink roses, 
 not fully opened, if you choose, but nothing 
 loud. And go to Joyce's, and get me more 
 paints ; but I will make you a list." 
 
 Thursday, the 3rd of June, was a beautiful 
 day, and Lucy grew quite animated as she 
 drove up to Zeigleheath. Sir Bevis and my 
 lady were out, but Renie was at the Hall 
 door ready to receive her. Lucy had altered.
 
 144 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 and for the better ; decidedly, she was getting 
 quite pretty, and her comic face was very in- 
 viting." 
 
 " Alive and well, Renie, my child ? I am 
 almost smothered with the dust ; I suppose it 
 never rains here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it does, though. Make yourself 
 at home ; these are my rooms, and you are 
 here for to-night, because I did not know 
 whether you had got over your objection to 
 sleeping alone." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ; especially in a strange 
 place. Pilgrim Fathers ! what a ghostly 
 hole ! How many hobgoblins do you keep 
 within these walls ?" 
 
 " Not any that I am acquainted with." 
 
 " What a disappointment, and, at the same 
 time, a relief ! But it is a fine old place ; you 
 Eudkins are a noble race. How is the 
 papoose ? Any more in prospect ?" 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! no. One's enough !" 
 exclaimed Renie, thinking of her charge.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 145 
 
 Rodney's not half a bad child, Lucy ; but you 
 had better ' mind your heye !' as Norman 
 says, for his ears are wide open, also his 
 eyes." 
 
 " So's his mouth, I suppose, and we can- 
 not do better than keep it filled. Children 
 ar'n't so sharp when they are munching. 
 And now, E-enie, show me the result of your 
 labours. Mr. Twinkleton is quite ready to 
 take your pictures. Well to be you, young 
 lady, getting twenty-two pounds at a time ! 
 But I can't compliment you on your good 
 looks ; you are a deal too thin and pale. I 
 suspect it's being all alone in these spectral 
 chambers, though you don't like to own to 
 it." 
 
 " Indeed, it's not; I believe I got dispirited 
 with my own daubs." 
 
 The cases were opened, and sketch after 
 sketch displayed. Lucy was petrified at the 
 number, and the crispness and finish which 
 characterized them all. There was not one 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 uncertain or unnecessary stroke, which is, to 
 my thinking, one of the great charms in art. 
 The fancy pictures were truly original — not 
 one single hackneyed idea, and not two faces 
 alike. Some countenances beamed with in- 
 telligence — wit sparkled in the eye — while 
 others were inanimate beauties, whose very 
 placidity almost put you to sleep. Each face 
 bespoke the state of the mind in a wonderful 
 manner, and drew the gazer into their joy or 
 sorrow, as the case might be. 
 
 Truly, Eenie Dorothy Hudkin had two 
 modes of speaking, one with her tongue and 
 the other with her pencil. Renie had a living 
 within her fingers, not alone by reason of her 
 talent, but by reason of her perseverance, 
 which is a quality not often found in geniuses. 
 Take half our present artists and authors, 
 they are in difficulties and too frequently die 
 in them, and all because they reckon too much 
 on their ability. They feel it incumbent upon 
 them when they make fifty pounds to spend
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 147 
 
 more than half, and render themselves unfit 
 for work for the next fortnight. " Never mind, 
 I will make more, saj they." 
 
 True ; but time goes on, and younger men 
 come forward with constitutions as yet unim- 
 paired with fast life, and the old and shaking 
 hand is pushed on one side. They have put 
 nothing away, and their day is gone by ; so 
 they slip down, down to the very depths ol 
 poverty and degradation, and too often a man 
 who once graced the tables of the highest in 
 the land, whose very name breathed of fame 
 and glory, has a pauper's funeral. 
 
 T am undecided whether one of the above- 
 mentioned class is not a truer acceptation of 
 the word "fool" than the soft Billy of the 
 village. They are not as wise as the child, 
 who, seeing the rays of light slanting through 
 the window, tries, with his baby hand, to 
 gTasp them ; for they make no effort to gather 
 the flowers with which Grod so bountifully 
 strews their path. 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Lucy turned away from the last picture, 
 and kissed the pale face. 
 
 " I wonder what Mademoiselle would say, 
 Eenie ; she always stuck to it that ' Renie 
 had the taste.' " 
 
 " And does no one know of this ?" 
 
 " Ko, only Christie and your people; I 
 have not told even Addy or Norman. By- 
 the-bye, you must go there to-morrow." 
 
 The next day saw the two girls walking 
 round to Beach Cliff, where they received 
 the usual kind welcome and an invitation to 
 spend an evening in the next week, on the oc- 
 casion of a party. 
 
 " We have not invited uncle or Lady 
 Eudkin," said Addy; "it is not a state 
 affair." 
 
 " Ko, but there is a neighbour of yours 
 asked, Eenie, and a very nice fellow he is too. 
 Better put your heart out of reach. Miss 
 Northwood." 
 
 " To tell the truth, I don't know where
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 149 
 
 mine is at present, Mr. Howard ; I have a 
 dim recollection of last feeling it wliile stay- 
 ing with my aunt." 
 
 "Norman, who is this mysterious neigh- 
 bour ? I don't know any but the rooks." 
 
 " Don't you ; well, it's Count Helring." 
 
 " So he's come to the top at last. I never 
 believed in the existence of Count Carl 
 Helring." 
 
 Addy laughed. 
 
 '' You were always hard of belief, Renie; 
 but 1 never quite credited the truth of that 
 report till Norman made his acquaintance." 
 
 " Renie," asked Lucy, on the way home, 
 " what are you going to wear on Tuesday 
 night ? I fear I shall cut but a sorry figure 
 by the side of Mrs. Howard, who seems to 
 abound in beautiful dresses." 
 
 "• I really don't know ; I shall leave it to 
 Christie, and you had better do the same. 
 She has excellent taste, and will touch your 
 things up wonderfully."
 
 150 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Yeiy well ; but who is this Count Hel- 
 ring, you did not seem to know anything 
 about him?" 
 
 *' "Which I don't, indeed ; as you heard 
 me say, I never believed there was such a 
 person. All I have ever known is this : 
 there, in that clump of trees, close to the 
 Willow Glen, whicb joins the extreme end 
 of the East Park, stands a house. If we 
 were on the top of the cliff we could see 
 it, but as we are not, you must trust 
 me to describe it to you. It is a most curious 
 looking place, only one storey high, with a 
 thatched roof in which owls and bats have 
 their homes. The walls are of a stone, I for- 
 get the name of it, but it glistens like crys- 
 tallized sugar. There was a quarry of it 
 years ago close by the sea, and some say it 
 was the salt water splashing over it that 
 petrified it. I cannot answer for the truth 
 of it, and the once quarry is now a cave, in 
 which the angry sea roars, and which is always
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 151 
 
 covered with foam . In my great grandfatlier' s 
 time there appeared one day an old man, a 
 Grerman, who was a naturalist from pure love 
 of the same. He spent weeks in the village, 
 collecting specimens of birds, fish, flowers, 
 etc., and became very friendly with the 
 master of Zeigleheath. The end of it was 
 he persuaded my great grandfather to sell 
 him some land, and he selected that by the 
 Willow Glen, on account of its wild beauty, 
 and there built himself a house of the crys- 
 tallized sugar stone. The floors are tiled, 
 and the fire placed on the ground in a sort of 
 basket. The halls and passages are of the 
 crystal, arched and supported on pillars, I 
 have never been inside, but they say it is like 
 Fairy Land by lamp light. The half-mad old 
 hermit was a Grerman noble of high rank, 
 named something (I forget the word) Helring. 
 He christened the queer place ' Chiverton,' 
 after the wild birds' cry ' chevy.' In course 
 of time he died, but it descended to the next
 
 152 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 heir, and so on till tlie last Count Carl Hel- 
 ping, who married an English lady, a great 
 singer. They spent a good deal of their 
 time at ' Chiverton.' Before I was born the 
 Count died, leaving the Countess with one 
 child, a boy, called after his father, Carl. 
 She immediately packed up and made for the 
 Count's people, where I suppose they have 
 stayed. Nothing was heard of them, and I 
 was taken to see the house once during Miss 
 Webb's time, but no one seemed to be certain 
 that the Countess and her boy existed, as 
 nothing had been seen or heard of them for 
 years and years. However, they are alive, it 
 appears, since Norman has made the Count's 
 acquaintance ; I feel quite curious to see the 
 creature. I don't know that I have related 
 their history correctly, but that is the Moor- 
 dart version of it, and what I was told." 
 
 " Never mind, I don't suppose they could 
 tell it better themselves, Eenie ; to me there 
 is nothing so mystifying as delving after
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 153 
 
 departed people. So to satisfy me you need 
 not go further than the present Count, who 
 has a mother, and once had a father. But I 
 should like to see the place — that is to say, in 
 the middle of the day, when the sun's out — 
 but no moonlight rambles for me, or I should 
 be fancying I saw the old curiosity man. 
 How old will the present Count be ?" 
 
 "Ah ! youVe got an eye to business, have 
 you ? it does not look much as if you had left 
 your heart on the Grand Parade. Let me 
 see, tradition says he was ten or eleven when 
 the old Count died, so that makes him about 
 thirty. I wonder what he thinks of ' Chiver- 
 ton ?' when I saw it, the weeds reached nearly 
 to the roof, such a God-forgotten place ! every- 
 thino- run to seed !" 
 
 a 
 
 " Ah ! he'll like it, especially if he inherits 
 the hermit's taste ; he'll spend the live-long 
 day skinning and stuffing animals. Pilgrim 
 Fathers ! I hope he'll steep his paws well in 
 boiling water before Tuesday evening. I never 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 could endure odours of any sort, not even 
 pomatum." 
 
 But Lucy might Lave spared herself any 
 fears on the subject. When Tuesday arrived 
 and the carriage came round, Sir Bevis was 
 there to put them in. Of late he had seemed 
 to cling to Eenie, and at times regard her in 
 a beseeching sort of fashion that made her 
 heart ache for the poor old man. But no 
 second opportunity had occurred for the men- 
 tion of the trust, and Benie thought it better 
 to wait his time. One event pleased her, and 
 that was her uncle liking her friend; he at 
 once pronounced Lucy North wood to be a 
 candid, honest girl, with plenty of sense and 
 fun in her. Lady Rudkin followed her hus- 
 band as if she was afraid of being left behind, 
 but kept a good distance off, and proceeded 
 carefully, as if fearful of pitfalls. Her opinion 
 was not at the surface ! but one thing was 
 obvious, she desired to keep friends with both 
 girls.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 155 
 
 " Renie, my dear," cried Sir Beyis, pulling 
 the white knitted shawl closer round her, "give 
 our love to Addy and ISTorman, and don't 
 hasten home ; Ave shall not be uneasy." 
 
 *' Ah ! no," responded Lady Rudkin, laugh- 
 ing; " we sha'n't fret." 
 
 Eenie smiled. 
 
 " We won't put your tender feelings to the 
 test, Lady Rudkin ; we shall return in good 
 time." 
 
 Lucy settled herself comfortably on the 
 cushions, and then remarked — 
 
 " Renie, my child, it seems to me that you 
 and your fair aunt go a trifle out of your route 
 to give each other a polite probe sometimes." 
 
 " Well, may be we find it gratifying." 
 
 " Perhaps ; but depend upon it you won't 
 find it profitable ; there are more days than 
 one, and your uncle can't live for ever !" 
 
 " True ; but I am not a fixture here ; my 
 time is his time, and that makes me regardless 
 of consequences."
 
 156 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " I perceive that, and also tliat it would not 
 break your aunt's lieart if this equipage blew 
 over the cliffs with us." 
 
 " Lucy !" 
 
 '•' You are surprised. I thought you were 
 aware that I only kept my eyes shut during 
 the night?" 
 
 There was no time to say more, for the 
 carriage turned into the gate at Beach Cliff. 
 They were in pretty good time, and Addy 
 made several improvements in their toilets 
 with her neat clever fingers. It was quite a 
 homely party, some of the near families, and 
 the lion of the evening was undoubtedly the 
 long lost Count. 
 
 It was perfectly light, and the garden looked 
 unusually pretty with its summer house on one 
 corner of the lawn, and its wonderful stained 
 glass windows that represented four seasons. 
 
 Count Helring was just a shade late, and 
 appeared to great advantage half in the con- 
 servatory and half in the drawing-room, with
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 157 
 
 Ms military figure drawn to its full height. 
 Don't imagine because I have used the word 
 military that he must needs be one of those 
 sleepy dolts of men, who find their way into 
 our drawing-rooms, with their hair plastered 
 down on their low brows, their faces drawn to 
 their fullest length, and able to do nothing 
 but drawl "ya-as." 
 
 I often wonder where those donkeys hide 
 themselves when Her Majesty reviews her 
 troops and gets almost melted to tears at the 
 sight of so many brave defenders of their 
 Queen and country. One thing is certain, 
 her eye does not rest on the Honourable 
 Alphonso de Yane, or Lieutenant Horace 
 Cassmoline. 
 
 Count Carl Helring had served in the army, 
 like all Germans, and he was a creditable 
 specimen of a soldier, all fire and intelligence, 
 with ''divilment" in the very twist of his 
 shoulders. He was handsome, and it was an 
 uncommon type of beauty.
 
 158 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 His face was like alabaster, not pasty, and 
 tlie features were fine for a man, especially 
 the nose ; the mouth was arched, and had a 
 proud defiant look, which was added to by 
 the keen gaze of the grey eye and the way he 
 carried his head. The brow was broad and 
 high, and the soft, rich brown hair combed 
 simply back. A good, well-grown moustache 
 adorned his upper lip. There was something 
 wonderfully fresh and natural about the man ; 
 his hair was the colour God intended it to be, 
 having no oil upon it, and the moustache was 
 not waxed at the ends. 
 
 The society of Count Carl Helring was 
 invigorating and refreshing, his ideas and 
 perception were quick, he had travelled and 
 learned a great deal, and he possessed an 
 attractive and unobtrusive manner of relating 
 his adventures and experiences that interested 
 and amused his listeners. His voice was 
 pleasant, as also his accent, which was un- 
 mistakablv foreign. The only thing that
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 159 
 
 could be found fault with were his ears — they 
 were a trifle too large and disposed to be red, 
 as if they had been frost-bitten in his youth. 
 'No sooner was he introduced than he com- 
 menced as fast as possible, and his mouth was 
 flexible. 
 
 " You play croquet, Mrs. Howard ? You 
 have such a very nice ground." 
 
 '' No, we don't care for the game." 
 
 " Really, I am surprised at that. I am 
 very fond of it ; we played a great deal when 
 I was at Scarboro'." 
 
 '' That reminds me," said Norman Howard, 
 pleasantly, " I want you to tell me something 
 about Homburg, Count ; my wife and I think 
 of going there this year for our trip." 
 
 " Well, Homburg is a very nice place, very 
 nice ; I and my friend had great fun there ; 
 there were two such charming girls staying at 
 the hotel, and we had great larks with them ; 
 one is married since, I heard. I never enjoyed 
 any time so much as that. Yes, I do not
 
 160 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 think you could go to a nicer place than 
 Homburg." 
 
 ''Ah, well, we must see about it." 
 
 " I think of going there myself, so perhaps 
 we'll meet. It is a great pity you don't play 
 croquet here, Mrs. Howard." 
 
 Mrs. Howard made some suitable reply, 
 and evidently was amused, while Renie and 
 Lucy arrived at the decided conclusion that 
 he was croquet mad ; nor did he allow it to 
 cease here, he returned to the charge several 
 times during the evening with renewed 
 vigour. 
 
 There was, of course, music after dinner, 
 some of which pleased the Count. One 
 lady was not, however, so fortunate as to 
 gain his approval ; her music was powerful, 
 not melodious, and all that can be said of her 
 is, that she would eat tender, as the muscles 
 of her back were in constant motion from the 
 commencement of the set of fireworks she 
 had chosen to the ending. The distracted
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 161 
 
 Count expressed Ms feelings in sundry low- 
 breathed " Mein Gotts," while Lucy after- 
 wards assured Renie that she expected the 
 notes to come up by the roots, and consider- 
 ing the way the lady clawed and tore at the 
 piano it was not astonishing. 
 
 The Zeigleheath carriage putting in an 
 appearance, Eenie and Lucy had to take their 
 leave, having spent a most enjoyable evening. 
 Both girls agreed in liking the Count, and 
 Eenie hoped her uncle would be friendly with 
 him. Somehow of late Sir Bevis had ap- 
 peared averse to company.
 
 162 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The next day the heat was intense, and Lucy 
 and Eenie deemed it advisable to postpone 
 their walk till the evening after dinner. It 
 was too hot to attack any work determinedly, 
 so sitting themselves cosily in the window, 
 which was wide open, they began to chatter 
 listlessly, but soon the conversation got very 
 interesting. 
 
 " Lucy, I did not quite understand you 
 last night about Lady Rudkin. What do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " The truth is, Renie, you would rather
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 163 
 
 not understand me. I don't believe my 
 opinion is one particle different to yours, 
 only you are cautious, as of old. AVell, it is 
 not a bad thing ; caution is one of the most 
 useful gifts Grod has bestowed upon mankind, 
 but to be used in moderation, or you may 
 outwit yourself." 
 
 '' Just so ; but is it for me to deteriorate 
 the wife my uncle has chosen ? I have kept 
 a still tongue, because there are plenty to 
 wag without mine. But you don't seem to 
 like her ?" 
 
 '' No, I don't. I can't like anyone I can't 
 comprehend." 
 
 ''Why, you are as bad as Norman; he 
 says she is a mystery to him." 
 
 " And so she is to me. She strikes me as 
 having some dread on her mind, as if always 
 watching for something. Her chief source 
 of uneasiness seems to rest in the post-bag. 
 She never really eats her breakfast till all the 
 letters are out. And another thing astonishes
 
 164 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 me ; and tliat is her desire to be friends with 
 everyone. Who is that woman with the 
 moustache that I see dodging about such a 
 deal ?" 
 
 " Shepperton, Lady Rudkin's maid. Kurse 
 can't bear that woman. She told me to be 
 careful of her when first I came. And I have 
 been. I don't think I have spoken to her 
 more than twice." 
 
 " Indeed ; then that accounts for her 
 violent fancy for me, which I could not re- 
 turn, and sharply let her see it. Since she 
 could not make anything of you she tried her 
 hand on me, after I had been here three 
 days, no doubt hoping that I was made of 
 more yielding stuff. But I soon gave her the 
 cold shoulder, for I don't remember ever 
 taking a greater dislike to any creature than 
 that male-cum-female." 
 
 Renie burst out laughing. 
 
 '' You'd better not let my lady hear you 
 call her pet such an astounding name."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 165 
 
 " I don't see very much amiss witli it ; she 
 IS masculine, and yet feminine, so can you 
 find a better ?" 
 
 "^o; and let me tell you, before I forget, 
 that there is to be an horticultural exhibition 
 at Whimperly next week, and I suppose we 
 are to go." 
 
 "Thank Providence; perhaps we shall 
 come across croquet!" 
 
 The Flower Show at Whimperly was under 
 the patronage of Sir Bevis and Lady 
 Rudkin, and, as Renie predicted, the day 
 being fine, they all set off in a body, even to 
 Hodney and his nurse. 
 
 Whimperly was a much better village than 
 Moordart, and more accessible ; therefore, the 
 show was held there to insure its being better 
 attended. 
 
 Lucy Northwood was not disappointed. 
 The Count was there, with the Countess, his 
 mother, on his arm. 
 
 She was a pretty, gentle looking woman,
 
 166 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 with a particularly winning voice, and little 
 Eodney made no objection to being caressed 
 and petted by her and her son. Sir Bevis 
 thawed sufficiently to bid them welcome to 
 Zeigleheath, and proposed calling with Lady 
 Eudkin. This was just what the Count de- 
 sired, because then he could have a game of 
 croquet with the young ladies, and his eyes 
 danced with pleasure. 
 
 The band played, and the sun poured down 
 all that afternoon, while the two girls and 
 Count Helring sauntered about. He told 
 them how he had strayed to the boundary 
 line between Chiverton and Zeigleheath, but 
 seeing nothing but a wood, had returned for 
 fear of man-traps and spring guns. 
 
 Renie laughed, and answered frankly — 
 " What a coward you must be ; I should 
 certainly have made an attempt to explore 
 the wood. Do you know I never believed in 
 your existence. Chiverton has been empty 
 all my life, and I expected it to remain so."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 167 
 
 " Oil ; and you are sorry I am come 
 back?" 
 
 '' ~No, not a bit ; you will be one more in 
 this dreary place, and besides you are good 
 fun." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. Well, I don't know 
 whatever made me come home. I think it 
 was my conscience." 
 
 " I wish you would give a little of it to 
 other people then, perhaps we might get 
 home before we were quite cooked. Every 
 morsel of colour will be out of your bonnet, 
 Lucy !" 
 
 " Well, there's one comfort, it will all go 
 together, so that it will only be three shades 
 paler, and one remove from white. This 
 delicate crape never stands, worse luck. 
 That's the way I console myself for being 
 plain; I stand a pretty good chance of retaining 
 what I have got, whereas beauties like Lady 
 Rudkin must be in mortal dread of fading." 
 
 " You are a philosopher. Miss ISTorthwood ;
 
 168 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 but Lady Eudkin will not fade for many years ; 
 she is young to be your aunt, Miss Rudkin ?" 
 
 " Yery ;" and Renie's lips shut close. 
 
 That night Lucy aroused Eenie suddenly, 
 by saying— 
 
 " Renie, awake ; what's that bell?" 
 
 " Bell !" repeated the bewildered Eenie, 
 starting up and listening ; "I don't know. 
 I never heard it before ; what a peculiar 
 sound ?" 
 
 " Dreadful — it makes me creep — it is like 
 a convent bell. Pilgrim Fathers, I hope our 
 eyes are not going to be delighted by a strange 
 sight ; I never rested in the bosom of such a 
 high family before ; you are all blood, and, 
 consequently, wrapped up in mystery which 
 I find too exciting. Good heavens, what's 
 thatf 
 
 " There," said Renie, tittering in spite of 
 herself, " that's what you get for ridicule; 
 it's Christie up. I wonder what's the 
 matter."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 169 
 
 Without waiting a second, Renie slipped 
 on to the floor, followed by Lucy, and opened 
 the door. 
 
 There, at the bottom of the narrow turret 
 stairs, stood Christie, her eyes wide open with 
 terror. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Renie, do listen to that bell, its 
 like as if it was going to bury us all." 
 
 It was truly like a funeral bell ; its awfully 
 solemn, deep tones echoed through the old 
 building, and the sound came from Sir 
 Wildbrand's Tower. 
 
 The girl Christie began to cry bitterly. 
 
 " Oh ! ma'am is it the judgment, think 
 you ?" 
 
 " Judgment !" grunted Miss Northwood ; 
 *' might as well ask if it's a deluge, Eenie," 
 said she, catching her arm, " where are the 
 others that they don't hear it ?" 
 
 " Asleep, I suppose, Lucy ; and it has 
 stopped now, so there's no use disturbing 
 them, that I see." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Did jou count how many times it tolled, 
 Miss Eenie ?" gasped her maid. 
 
 " No, I did not; did you?" 
 
 " Bless you, no ma'am, I could not to have 
 saved my sinful life." 
 
 " Then you'd better begin a better one 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Are you going back to bed ma'am ?" 
 
 '' To be sure ; you don't surely suppose I 
 am going to pass the remainder of the night 
 out here ? You can't do better than go too." 
 
 The girl remounted the stairs, and Renie 
 and Lucy entered their room and secured the 
 door. 
 
 " Renie," announced Lucy, twisting her 
 eel-like body into the high bed, " you can't 
 think how disappointed I am not to have 
 seen a couple of modest skeletons dancing 
 the scarf dance out there with their shrouds ; 
 that dismal bell was a befitting preliminary." 
 
 " My dear Lucy, pray reserve your horrid 
 ideas till daylight; I have no wish to see
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 171 
 
 anything of the sort. J^o one will credit 
 what we heard, when we tell them ; it never 
 happened before that I recollect." 
 
 " But what is a bell put there for ? to 
 alarm the village, I suppose, in case of 
 robbers or fire ?" 
 
 " There is no bell, Lucy ; the top of the 
 tower is simply a room commanding a good 
 view." 
 
 " Ko bell !" exclaimed Lucy, " then what 
 was it we heard?" 
 
 " A bell without doubt, but where the sound 
 came from is a puzzle to me, for there is no 
 great bell anywhere about this place, that's 
 what made Christie so afraid. I thought you 
 did not clearly understand, Lucy." 
 
 " No, indeed I didn't ; I thought I would 
 go to sleep, but I have changed my mind now. 
 Renie, aren't you terrified nearly out of your 
 wits ?" 
 
 " No, I can't say that I am, but I don't 
 feel too comfortable." 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " I don't mind stopping here as long as I 
 have you, but I should die if I had to sleep 
 here alone. Eenie, however have you managed 
 all winter by yourself?" 
 
 " Very well ; nothing happened to disturb 
 me before, and I question whether I should 
 have heard it to-night if it had not been for 
 
 you." 
 
 " Are you going to mention it, Renie ?" 
 
 " I don't know, I think I shall ask some of 
 the old servants about it ; it may be one of 
 those mysteries you joked about a little time 
 ago ; it reminds one of the ' InchcM Bell.' " 
 
 " Ugh ! " groaned the brave Lucy, drawing 
 the bed clothes over her head, and saying in 
 a guttural tone to Renie — 
 
 "If I am smothered before morning you'll 
 tell the people what killed me ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; and see you have decent burial. 
 But if you are bent upon steaming away like 
 a hotbed, you had better go to the other side, 
 else there will be no one left to relate the
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 173 
 
 doleful tale or make the necessary inquiries. 
 Do you know you are positively smoking, 
 Lucy ?" 
 
 " Well, my head does feel on fire at the 
 top," said Lucy, popping it out. " Renie, 
 there's a Christian, clap a pillow on it, you 
 perhaps recollect what Professor Hamilton 
 used to tell us about electricity in the hair ?" 
 
 " Perfectly, but your ideas are slightly con- 
 fused just now ; your head's not on fire, my 
 child !" 
 
 " That's a blessing, then. I have hopes of 
 not being gathered to my fathers at present." 
 
 The story of the Bell, which was speedily 
 noised abroad by the chatter-loving Christie, 
 created a due amount of wonderment and 
 awe, but no one paid particular attention to 
 it till she related how the young ladies had 
 heard it as well as herself. Then a full ex- 
 planation was requested and given by Eenie, 
 in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, that left no 
 room for that too frequent guest, exaggeration.
 
 174 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 Sir Bevis was quite shaken, and leant back 
 to screen his pale face, while my lady, with 
 her innocent countenance, expressive of the 
 most perfect perplexity and bewitching terror^ 
 insisted upon having it told all over again 
 from the very beginning, which modest request 
 Lucy Northwood complied with. But scarcely 
 had she proceeded half way, when Sir Bevis, 
 raising his chocolate to his lips, said — 
 
 " Never mind repeating it, my dear Miss 
 Northwood, you will make Lady Eudkin 
 quite nervous, and for another reason, I object 
 to such idle fancies getting circulated. Some 
 one must have pulled their room bell in their 
 sleep, and in the stillness the sound reached 
 the west wing. By the way, Eenie, my love, 
 your part of the house is famous for an echo.'* 
 " The echo of a bell. Sir Bevis ?" 
 '' No, Miss Northwood, I believe not ; I 
 only wish I could say so, it would be such a 
 satisfactory way of settling last night's busi- 
 ness."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 175 
 
 Eenie said nothing, and tlie subject dropped, 
 wliicli was evidently what the Baronet desired. 
 But Lucy's curiosity was fairly aroused, and 
 in the afternoon she insisted that they should 
 go and take a cup of tea with comfortable 
 Mrs. Troost in her room. 
 
 " You know, Eenie, she has lived here all 
 her days, and must be acquainted with the 
 legends of your family, though you are not." 
 
 " True, there never was so perfect a dunce 
 in that respect as I ; there may be a hundred 
 and fifty stories for what I know."
 
 176 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mes. Teoost was charmed to see them, and 
 quickly had tea brought. Hers was a snug 
 room ; it looked into one of the orchards, and 
 the apple trees touched the window, on the 
 ledge of which sat Topsy, her black cat, asleep 
 in the sun. Some lace of my lady's was 
 bleaching on the long grass, also some gar- 
 ments composed of lace and insertion belong- 
 ing to master baby. 
 
 "Miss Northwood, will you try some of 
 this pound cake ? I made it myself the other 
 week. I suppose it's no use asking you^ 
 MissEenie?"
 
 THE- MILL WHEEL. 177 
 
 " Not a bit, Mrs. Troost, unless you want 
 me to tumble off this chair presently ; but 
 Lucy, great gourmand, will have no objec- 
 tion to eat my share as well as her own." 
 
 " Now you hear my propensity, you had 
 better put your cake out of my reach, Mrs. 
 Troost." 
 
 "Nay, nay. Miss Northwood, it's only 
 natural for girls and boys to like sweets ; 
 bitters come fast enough without counting 
 them. You shall not only have this, but I'll 
 make one every week as long as you are here, 
 and some for you to take home — there now," 
 and the worthy dame stopped for breath. 
 
 " Heaven bless you for a good old soul ! 
 you will earn the everlasting gratitude of the 
 juvenile North woods, Mrs. Troost," and Lucy 
 at once set about devouring her slice of pound 
 cake. 
 
 " Have you heard any news to-day, Mrs. 
 Troost ?" asked Eenie. 
 
 " News ! Miss E-enie? let me consider. Yes, 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 I have ; but I daresay its no news to you.. 
 Chiyerton's got its master at last. Now 
 there's a chance for one of you two young 
 ladies to be a Countess, my gracious ! You 
 would not care for my pound cake then, Miss 
 Lucy ?" 
 
 " I am not so sure about that. We have 
 made the acquaintance of the Count, Mrs. 
 Troost ; we met him at Beach Cliff, and he 
 will visit here, no doubt, so you will be obliged 
 to concoct a dish of snails and set the table 
 without forks." 
 
 " Laws sakes ! Miss Northwood, what are 
 you saying ?" 
 
 "Gospel, Mrs. Troost, gospel; and the 
 Count, dear boy, plays croquet eternally. He 
 had better stipulate to have mallets and balls 
 in the next world, or take his along with 
 him. Perhaps the attendant saints might be 
 decoyed into playing a game, eh, Renie ?" 
 
 Renie was not able to speak, owing to being 
 convulsed with laughter at the sight of the
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 179 
 
 housekeeper's face. She was petrified, and 
 sat with her spoon midway to her open 
 mouth. 
 
 " Lucy, for shame, you wicked girl ! Count 
 Helring is very nice and awfully handsome ; 
 only Lucy is rather smitten, and does not 
 want to acknowledge it, even to herself. We 
 have heard of children being frightened by 
 their own shadows before now, haven't we, 
 Mrs. Troost?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Miss E/cnie ; and now look, 
 Miss Lucy, you alluring young creature, I 
 shall just put the master up to asking the 
 Count and Countess round sharp. But it's 
 an awful risk you runs, my dear young lady ; 
 we know nothing to speak of about men from 
 foreign parts ; he may have a wife and family, 
 all well and hearty, stowed away all snug." 
 
 "Dear me! you speak of them as if they 
 were red herrings, Mrs. Troost ; it's not often 
 that wives and children are so obliging as to 
 be stowed away. To say the least of it, it's
 
 180 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 a charming prospect, and I regret you have 
 given me it right on the top of your rich cake, 
 as they mayn't agree." 
 
 " Ah, it's all very well for you to laugh, 
 Miss Lucy, but it was only last night, as 
 Frost was a reading the life of a bigamist, it 
 made me turn all of a heap, that it did." 
 
 " I shall be careful, depend upon it, and we 
 will send him to drink an afternoon cup of 
 tea with you, Mrs. Troost. You shall put 
 him through his catechism, and if he does not 
 answer to your satisfaction, I won't have him." 
 
 " Yery good, Miss Lucy, I'll keep my eye 
 open ; and now what's the news. Miss Renie, 
 as you wanted to know if I had heard ?" 
 
 *' Well, did you hear anything last night ?" 
 
 " Nothing but the mice, which I am quite 
 accustomed to." 
 
 " "Well, one noise was not a mouse, unless 
 mice are musical at times." 
 
 " That's not likely ; it'll be that snail-eater 
 come to serenade Miss Lucy, now !"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 181 
 
 The two girls burst out laugliing, and Lucy 
 promptly ejaculated — 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! if that's the way he 
 serenades, it was ' Cease thy reposing,' and 
 no mistake ; pity he did not follow it up with 
 ' Cease melting,' for that's what I was en- 
 gaged in after." 
 
 •'I think I had better tell you, Mrs. Troost, 
 or we shall have to go before the end. We 
 were aroused by a bell last night," and Renie 
 related the affair. 
 
 Mrs. Troost never said one word till she had 
 finished, and then crossing her plump hands 
 quietly, she said — 
 
 " So I'm right after all !" 
 
 " What, did you hear it ?" 
 
 " 'No, Miss Lucy, I did not, but I am not 
 astonished at you doing it." 
 
 " But Sir Bevis tried to persuade us it was 
 fancy !" 
 
 " Ah, he did that on account of his young 
 wife ; these old tales don't do talked about."
 
 182 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Troost, just please to explain it 
 to us, there is something to be told, I can see 
 by your face — and we are all attention." 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you, but remember, both of 
 you, not one single word of this must you 
 repeat ; if Sir Bevis knew I had told you, he 
 would, I believe, box my ears, old as I am, 
 and turn me out. Mrs. Howard does not 
 know it, and never must : it's a shadow in 
 your family, Miss Renie, and ever will be. 
 You never knew you had an aunt, did you ?" 
 
 Eenie opened her eyes in astonishment. 
 
 " No ; have I, Mrs. Troost ?" 
 
 "Well, you had, and a beautiful one too, 
 poor creature !" 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " Lost, Miss Renie, lost, seven-and-twenty 
 years ago. Ah, me !" and a sob checked the 
 good woman's utterance. 
 
 Lucy was bending forward, deeply in- 
 terested, while Renie' s face was troubled. 
 
 " Tell me all about her, Mrs. Troost."
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 183 
 
 '' Yes, I will, Miss Renie. It is time, in 
 my opinion, that you knew ; you are the last 
 of the old stock. Somehow I never can 
 remember Master Baby, bless his pretty face 
 all the same. But the master would never 
 have it named, and the Colonel, your father. 
 Miss Renie, was just as bitter. I am not 
 sure that I'd be telling you now, but for that 
 bell, for I am disobeying orders direct. Any- 
 way, since you have grown up what you have, 
 J believe Sir Bevis would tell you himself, 
 only that the subject has been buried so long. 
 Well, Miss Renie, your aunt. Miss Clorinda, 
 was as lovely a creature as human eye ever 
 rested on, her two brothers just idolized her, 
 and I scarcely know which was her favourite ; 
 she was the youngest, a great deal younger 
 than your father. When my old master and 
 mistress died, she took on dreadful, poor 
 young thing, and I could hardly bear to wait 
 on her, but Sir Bevis was so considerate, he 
 made her almost forget, and took her about a 
 great deal. She was not much over nineteen,
 
 184 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 and the picture of an angel; Miss Addy some- 
 times reminds me of Miss Clorinda. But 
 she never took kindly to strangers and gaiety, 
 and used to say she liked no place so 
 well as home. Well, they were very con- 
 tented these three ; Mr. Denis was a great 
 deal away, but the time never seemed so long 
 because Sir Bevis and Miss Clorinda were 
 always talking of him just as if he was pre- 
 sent. Your aunt had many offers, but they 
 none of them could tempt her to leave 
 Zeigleheath. But one day in September she 
 went strolling and never came back. Oh 1 
 what an awful time that was. I thought my 
 master would have gone mad ; we never went 
 to bed for nights. But she was never found, 
 either dead or alive. And some days after 
 one of the fishermen found a glove on the 
 beach. That led to the belief that she had 
 fallen off the cliffs, and her body drifted into 
 some cave or got fixed between the rocks, 
 which prevented it washing ashore." 
 
 By this time the tears were streaming down
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 185 
 
 Mrs. Troost's cheeks, and even Lucy's eyes 
 looked dim. 
 
 " But you have not explained about the 
 mysterious bell. What has that to do with 
 the drowned lady ?" 
 
 *' I am coming to that. Miss Northwood. 
 That bell belongs to one of the traditions of 
 the Rudkin family. You should get your 
 uncle, Miss Renie, to let you read the old 
 family parchments. I have heard there are 
 many curious things in them. But he is 
 against anything of the sort, I know. How- 
 ever, there is the story of the bell, and it runs 
 thus : — 
 
 " ' Sir Wildbrand Rudkin' s lady was very 
 gentle and tender hearted, and she begged her 
 husband to have a bell put in the tower, 
 to warn strange ships off the rocks, and many 
 and many a night did she pass ringing it. 
 But she was not happy, and she either threw 
 herself into the sea or Sir Wildbrand did ; 
 anyway, she met with a sudden death. With
 
 186 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 her the bell disappeared, and was never seen 
 again, and the story goes that the "White Lady 
 rises out of the sea and rings it to warn her 
 family when any danger threatens them, as 
 she stands on the eagles' cliff to warn the 
 fishermen of a coming storm. That bell was 
 heard seven-and-twenty years since, before 
 Miss Olorinda was lost.' " 
 
 "Well, we heard it last night, my good 
 Mrs. Troost, that is quite positive, and the 
 sound came from Sir Wildbrand's tower. Is 
 there no picture of my aunt ? I should like 
 to see her." 
 
 " Yes, there is a portrait of Miss Clorinda, 
 Miss Eenie, in her room, which has been shut 
 up since she was lost, and I keep the key and 
 open it only once in a way to clean it, but 
 nothing is ever moved." 
 
 "Oh! Mrs. Troost, take us to see it," 
 exclaimed Lucy, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, I will ; but not now. After tea is 
 taken in if you two come here I'll be ready,
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 187 
 
 and the servants will be at supper in the hall, 
 so the house will be quiet. But you must not 
 let out for the world, young ladies, that I have 
 told you." 
 
 "No, indeed, we won't; make yourself 
 quite easy," said Lucy. 
 
 *' Positively," began that voluble lady, as 
 she leisurely attired herself before one glass, 
 and Renie performed the like duty at another. 
 " I regret that I have not the gift of writing, 
 for I might turn this lost aunt of yours to 
 some account ; it is a perfect romance, my 
 sweet Renie. What a pity you were not 
 acquainted with these thrilling stories in the 
 days at Hill Cottage. How we should have 
 relished them." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and pretty nearly terrified 
 ourselves out of our wits at the same time. 
 But I had no idea my family were such an 
 exciting race. Addy and I never heard any- 
 thing of it." 
 
 "Make haste, Lucy; there's the gong sound- 
 ing. Don't mention last night's business."
 
 188 THE MILL "WHEEL. 
 
 The evening seemed awfully long, and tliej 
 dared not go till the servants were at their 
 evening meal, so they resolved, after taking a 
 cup of tea, to indulge in a walk, and chose 
 the west side. They could not have made a 
 better selection — that still, lonely wood was 
 a fitting place to watch God's darkness 
 gathering. Everything was peaceful and 
 silent. The birds were going to roost, and 
 only now and then the sweet wild note of the 
 thrush rippled through the trees, mournful 
 even in its gladness. A soft wind moaned in 
 the long grass, making the hare bells bow 
 their graceful heads, as if in thankfulness for 
 the approaching rest. Some degree of awe 
 and solemnity must possess everyone while 
 viewing such a scene ; they cannot be uncon- 
 scious of the near proximity to their Maker, 
 when beholding His works ; we can almost 
 see the Divine Hands outstretched, and hear 
 the cry — " Mine ! mine !" 
 
 The two girls strolled on, each busy with 
 her own thoughts, or softly talking. When
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 189 
 
 tliey did halt, a peculiar sound smote tlieir 
 ear ; it was tlie click of a croquet ball. They 
 had strayed to the boundary, and the Count 
 was amusing himself with his favourite game, 
 no doubt. 
 
 Lucy laughed. 
 
 " Suppose we take a peep at his serene 
 majesty, Renie ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; I would not flatter his vanity 
 so much. I almost wonder how he makes 
 himself content. lie must surely feel dull." 
 
 " Not he ; what with his zither and 
 croquet, eating, sleeping, and drinking, he 
 kills time easily enough, depend upon it." 
 
 " Well, one thing is self-evident ; his mind 
 must be at rest. Few men arrived at the 
 Count's age can endure solitude. And now 
 we had better make our way back ; we sha'n't 
 be any too soon, it is nearly dark." 
 
 Renie was correct ; there was Mrs. Troost 
 awaiting them, with a lamp, turned very low, 
 in her hand.
 
 190 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " JSTow, young ladies, please step lightly," 
 commanded the Goddess, descending like a 
 ton weight on each step, as an example. 
 '' There's no one about; that's a blessing." 
 
 She led them through the corridor and 
 down a gallery to the right, and stopped 
 before a door near the middle. The lock 
 turned rather stiffly, but yielded to Mrs. 
 Troost's hand, and they passed in. The lamp 
 was turned up, and the girls looked breath- 
 lessly round. The room was not furnished 
 in such a heavy style as the rest of the house 
 — it was modernized and prettily decorated ; 
 little cupids skipped about over the ceiling, 
 and on the panels of the doors love birds and 
 flowers were painted exquisitely. There were 
 some things loose on the toilet table, just as 
 their owner had left them, and on everything 
 there was a coating of dust. 
 
 Mrs. Troost apologised and commenced 
 blowing vigorously. 
 
 " You see, I cannot have a regular turn out.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 191 
 
 because of tlie master, and the windows must 
 be opened, so that some dust will settle. I 
 see you're looking for the portrait, Miss 
 Eenie, so come this way. It used to hang in 
 the gallery, along with the rest, but Sir Bevis 
 had it moved here.'* 
 
 She entered a room to the right — a pretty 
 boudoir, with a harp at one side and a pile of 
 music, also a piano. Books garnished the 
 table, along with a piece of fancy work, once a 
 group of moss roses, but now scarcely dis- 
 tinguishable. It was horrible to think that 
 they had been in their places seven-and- 
 twenty years with never a hand to touch 
 them, unless the spirit of their lost mistress 
 tended them. 
 
 Lucy Northwood shivered visibly, and 
 drew nearer to Eenie. 
 
 " This way. Miss Renie," said Mrs. Troost, 
 passing gingerly round the table. " This is 
 your aunt. Miss Clorindea ; it was taken 
 when she was eighteen."
 
 192 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 The worthy dame raised the lamp, and 
 showed the picture of a sweet girl in a low 
 dress with a fan in her hand. She was 
 standing in such a listless manner and with 
 such a pleading expression in her face, that, 
 involuntarily, Eenie exclaimed — 
 " Poor creature." 
 
 '' You think she looks sad, Miss Eenie ?'* 
 " Ah, yes, very sad ; was she happy, Mrs. 
 Troost ?" 
 
 " I don't know, my dear ; but I don't fancy 
 she was quite, though she never told me. 
 But you are sharp. Miss Eenie ; no one takes 
 that expression for sadness, they all call it 
 amiability." 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, presently, " I do fancy 
 there is a slight resemblance to Mrs. Howard 
 in that face; they are both fair too." 
 
 ''Both fair," echoed Mrs. Troost, "not at 
 all like Miss Eenie here, are they. Miss 
 Lucy ?" 
 
 Lucy laughed and pinched Eenie.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 193 
 
 " Not a scrap, I have seen no one like this 
 brown creature yet ; are you sure she belongs 
 to you, Mrs. Troost ?" 
 
 "Aye, aye, quite sure. But come now, 
 these rooms are to my thinking damp, and 
 jou two will be getting chilled." 
 
 Lucy at once obeyed the command, but 
 Renie turned to have one last look at the 
 sweet eyes, so sad and mournful, and then 
 they left the forsaken chambers. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It was a beautiful sunny morning, about 
 eleven o'clock, that Renie and Lucy were 
 returning from a good practise of duets in 
 tbe drawing-room, and stopped for a second 
 at the window in the corridor, facing Lady 
 Rudkin's dressing-room. Distinctly came the 
 pretty prattle of Rodney, as he drove horses 
 round and round the nursery, and through 
 the trees could be seen the silvery stream 
 gushing on its way, and the old water wheel 
 sending the foam dashing on each side. It 
 was a pretty bit that, quite a cascade, and
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 195 
 
 close under the drooping boughs was a rustic 
 bridge, over which some sheep were crossing, 
 
 " How lovely," ejaculated Lucy, feasting 
 her town eyes, " I only wish mamma — " 
 
 Lucy's wish remained unspoken, for at that 
 moment voices in angry dispute in the 
 dressing-room became audible. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, woman, and don't 
 lecture me ; your day is past, and I won't 
 stand it, I tell you." 
 
 The girls turned in astonishment — could 
 that be my lady ? 
 
 '' Have a care ! " replied another voice, 
 harsh and disagreeable, " or you will take a 
 step too far; you are too daring. Fll not let 
 you risk — " 
 
 Here the voice sank again, and Lucy made 
 a movement towards the west wing, followed 
 by Renie, but barely had she done so before 
 a heavy thud met their ears, followed by a 
 suppressed scream, and the door was flung 
 open and Lady Rudkin rushed out with a 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 white, scared face. Lucy was the first her 
 eye rested upon. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Northwood, quick, call nurse ; 
 my maid, Shepperton, is in a fit." 
 
 " Fit !" exclaimed the plain-spoken Lucy, 
 flinging the music on the floor, " I should 
 not have supposed her subject to fits." 
 
 She did not call nurse as desired, but 
 walked past Lady Rudkin into the room, 
 perhaps she deemed it unnecessary, as nurse's 
 head appeared at the nursery door that 
 instant. 
 
 Shepperton' s fit was a curious one, she lay 
 partly on her back near the door, perfectly 
 quiet, not moving a muscle. They all bent 
 over her, my lady shaking like an aspen leaf 
 and gasping — 
 
 " Ah, nurse, is she dead ? is she dead ?" 
 
 " Of course she's not dead, my lady ; what 
 should she be dead for? Miss Eenie, will 
 you hand me one of those jugs ?" 
 
 Eenie did as requested, and nurse, without
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 197 
 
 any more parley, coolly tossed the contents 
 into Shepperton's face. 
 
 The ugly creature slowly moved her hands, 
 and opening her eyes, sat up. 
 
 " Short fit," remarked Lucy to Renie. 
 
 " How do you feel, Mrs. Shepperton ?'* 
 enquired nurse, setting the empty jug down. 
 
 " Quite well, nurse, that is to say, better. 
 Did I startle you, my lady ?" asked the con- 
 siderate Shepperton, slowly gathering herself 
 up, while a grin that seemed more of delight 
 than anything else spread over her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 The question was accompanied by an action 
 perfectly natural, yet worthy of mention. 
 One red hand was pressed to the left side of 
 her head near the temple, and when she re- 
 moved it, Lucy noticed a red dented mark. 
 When Lucy raised her eyes, she encountered 
 those of nurse, they had both been looking at 
 the same thing. 
 
 " Yes, I should say you had startled my
 
 198 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 lady," remarked nurse, regarding her as sLe 
 stood white to the lips. " I did not know as 
 you was subject to fits, Shepperton." 
 
 " Oh ! I have been subject to the like of 
 what you've seen for some years ; haven't I, 
 my lady ?" 
 
 " Yes, Shepperton, yes," replied Lady 
 Eudkin, nervously. 
 
 " Oh ! it's a great pity ; I advise you to go 
 to bed for half-an-hour, or you might get 
 another," and nurse promptly opened the 
 door and let her out, a proceeding which 
 Eenie and Lucy were not slow to follow. 
 
 '' Nurse!" called Lady Rudkin ; '* Nurse, 
 stay a second. Oblige me by not mention- 
 ing to your fellow servants that Shepperton 
 is subject to such seizures, they are so very 
 rare ; and I ought not to have got alarmed, 
 and called out, but I don't fancy I am quite 
 well to-day." 
 
 " Certainly not, my lady ; but hadn't you 
 better send for Doctor Owen? he'd set
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 199 
 
 you to rights soon, and this hot weather is 
 trying." 
 
 Lady Rudkin smiled faintly. 
 
 " It is nothing of consequence, nurse ; and 
 will pass off with a good sleep ; we women are 
 but weak creatures." 
 
 This was followed by a dead attempt at the 
 old rippling, girlish laugh, but it sounded odd 
 enough just then, and ended abruptly in a 
 catching sob. Nurse seemed rather puzzled, 
 but, not having a suitable reply or a few 
 words of respectful comfort at her tongue's 
 end, she prudently withdrew, and left her 
 to sob at her leisure. 
 
 " Well, who on earth would have thought 
 it ?" soliloquised Mary, wife of the late Jim 
 Muggins, as she retraced her steps to the 
 nursery. I never was so bewildered in all 
 my days — Shepperton in a fit ! A fine one 
 for fits is my lady's maid," and Mary 
 giggled loud. 
 
 A few hours later, when walking with
 
 200 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 master baby in the park, sbe met Eenie and 
 Lucy. 
 
 " How is Sbepperton, nurse ?" asked Eenie, 
 eating a peach. 
 
 " She's very well, Miss Eenie; I saw her 
 going about as usual.' ' 
 
 " I cannot help thinking it was a queer fit ; 
 there used to be some girls at school subject 
 to fits, you remember, Lucy, and their' s 
 were always very different to that of Shepper- 
 ton's. Don't you think so, Lucy ?" 
 
 Lucy laughed, and glanced at nurse. 
 
 Eodney was playing under the trees and 
 out of hearing. 
 
 " Eenie, my dear girl," replied her friend, 
 turning to her, " don't yon think it just 
 possible that it was no fit at all ? people may 
 faint without kicking." 
 
 " But Lady Eudkin called it a fit, and said 
 she was subject to them, Lucy. " 
 
 " We say a good many things when we are 
 frightened ; don't we, nurse ?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 201 
 
 " Yes, indeed, we do, Miss Nortliwood; 
 and forget that folks have eyes and senses of 
 their own." 
 
 The woman cast a glance of intelligence at 
 Lucy, which that young lady did not consider 
 wise to respond to. 
 
 No sooner was nurse away to her charge, 
 than Renie exclaimed — 
 
 " Lucy, what is this about Shepperton ? 
 You seem very wide awake, you and nurse ?" 
 
 " Do we ? Well, supposing we sit down, 
 and then I'll try to awaken you. The fact is 
 this — I don't believe Shepperton, great horse, 
 had either a fit or a faint ; if she even had a 
 fit it's been one of temper." 
 
 " Gro on," said Renie, drawing faces, arms, 
 and legs on the soft grass with her sun shade ; 
 " you'll have me curious presently." 
 
 " Well, and I also believe that we heard 
 them quarrelling, and that said quarrel was 
 brought to an abrupt termination by the 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 golden-haired angel knocking the male-cum- 
 female down." 
 
 " Lucy !" 
 
 " Precisely, my dear Renie ; your aunt 
 either struck her with something, or hit her, 
 and in falling she struck herself. Did you see 
 the mark on her forehead ? I did, and so did 
 nurse. Shepperton was stunned, and Lady 
 Rudkin was terrified, because she feared for 
 the moment she was dead. How did that 
 woman get here, Eenie ?" 
 
 " Lady Rudkin brought her, Lucy, so nurse 
 told me, and she cordially hates her." 
 
 " Indeed ! There is some understanding 
 that dates later back than their time here ; 
 they are an interesting study. Nurse has got 
 her eyes opened, Renie, and it wants very little 
 persuasion to get her to open her mouth." 
 
 " Lucy, listen. When first I came here 
 both Mrs. Troost and nurse told me they 
 feared we were only at the beginning of a 
 very bad business. They neither of them
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 203 
 
 like Lady Rudkin. They seem to tMnk 
 there's something strange about her, and 
 Norman thinks so too.*' 
 
 " And what is your opinion ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Lucy. I have seen less of 
 my uncle's wife than anyone would suppose, 
 because I perceived we should not agree if 
 too much together, and up in the west wing 
 I hear very little of what passes. Yet I 
 cannot say I am comfortable. I always feel 
 expecting something." 
 
 " Well, it is a curious thing that so many 
 of us should be impressed with the same feel- 
 ing ; and I don't mind confessing to you, 
 E;enie, that from the very first I was struck 
 with something peculiar about your aunt." 
 
 After Renie had seen the portrait of her 
 Aunt Clorinda, she, at Lucy's suggestion, 
 attempted to copy it from memory, and suc- 
 ceeded admirably. It was with the greatest 
 difficulty that Renie prevented it going to 
 Mr. Twinkleton, and even then had to pro-
 
 204 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 mise Lucy that if there was not a better it 
 should go next time. Mr. Twinkleton was 
 now a constant purchaser, and Eenie was in 
 receipt of a moderate income, which would, 
 of course, cease the moment she stopped 
 work. Lucy sometimes asked, " Renie, aren't 
 you tired ?" 
 
 " No, Lucy, I am ambitious, and moreover 
 I love it. I don't believe I could stop now ; 
 I should feel lost." 
 
 And it was the truth. The young girl, 
 driven back upon herself, had twined her 
 energies and affection round one thing — Art, 
 and having embraced it, it had become her 
 guide, her aim in life. On to the pieces of 
 blank paper she poured her heart's thoughts, 
 and, as the objects grew, they became her 
 friends, her world, without which Grod's earth 
 would have seemed very empty and dreary^
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 About this time Sir Bevis took it into Ms 
 head to have his own and Lady Rudkin's 
 portraits painted, also the boy's, and some 
 weeks after the above announcement, during 
 which time he had been looking out for a 
 clever artist, he told them one morning, after 
 reading his letters, that he had succeeded in 
 procuring a genius, who would arrive the 
 "Wednesday following and start operations. 
 
 "Who is he, Sh* Bevis?" enquired Lady 
 Eudkin. 
 
 " Well, my dear, he is a Spaniard, I
 
 206 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 believe ; at least so "Wigton tells me, and 
 very clever. He has painted several pictures 
 for them, and they speak highly of them. 
 His name is Rufus Sebastain." 
 
 " What a pretty name," said his wife, 
 sweetly. " I hope he will be good looking. 
 I don't care for plain people." 
 
 *' Then whatever induces you to retain that 
 maid of yours, my love ? I never saw an 
 uo^lier woman." 
 
 Lady Rudkin changed colour slightly. 
 
 " That is a weakness of mine. I admire 
 Shepperton for her good qualities, not her 
 beauty ; and I could not send her away." 
 
 The last phrase sounded to Eenie and 
 Lucy like a regret. But her husband, doat- 
 ing old fool ! saw only the amiability of his 
 wife, and actually commended her goodness 
 of heart in keeping what in all probability 
 other people would not have harboured. 
 
 A smile rose to Lucy's lips, and she won- 
 dered how long this state of bliss would last.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 207 
 
 When tlie Wednesday morning arrived, the 
 two girls commenced to speculate on tlie ap- 
 pearance of Rufus Sebastain, the rising artist. 
 " Lucy," said Renie, laying down the 
 brush with which she was putting in a bit of 
 summer sky, " I am' very glad this young 
 man is coming ; I shall do my best to make 
 friends with him, because, perhaps, he maybe 
 useful to me ; at any rate he can teach me a 
 great deal. It is queer how things come 
 round. When I was struggling so hard to 
 improve, I used to wish for help so much, and 
 now, when I am almost independent, it 
 comes." 
 
 " Yes it is. I thought, when Sir Be vis 
 spoke of getting an artist, how little he 
 guessed he had one close to him. I almost 
 wished you to offer your services, Renie ; 
 the money would be so useful to you, dear." 
 
 " Yery ; but I prefer keeping quiet. I 
 don't approve of clinging to and confiding in 
 one's family."
 
 208 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " ISTo, I know you don't. I wonder how 
 my patience is to last out till dinner time. I 
 tliink we had best get ourselves up artisti- 
 cally ; at any rate, you had — first impressions 
 go a long way." 
 
 "That's true enough; but I want his 
 friendship, not his admiration or love ; so 
 beyond not wearing pink and blue, I shall not 
 trouble myself." 
 
 The large drawing-room was deserted ; so 
 thought the girls on entering it some time 
 before dinner. The windows were opened 
 wide, and the delicious scent of the flowers 
 floated in. There was something delightfully 
 cool and shady in that apartment, with its 
 summer covering of chintz, almost as alluring 
 as the walk by the river side, where the trees, 
 meeting overhead in friendly intercourse, 
 invited the birds to seek shelter. That walk 
 was an attraction ; it stretched a mile or more 
 in extent, and then let you out into a green 
 lane. Once upon a time there had been a
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 209 
 
 grand waterfall, but now that was partly 
 done away with. In the widest portion of 
 the stream was an island, which you reached 
 by means of a bridge. On the far side a 
 wooden seat, and, resting there, you had a 
 view of the sloping meadows, with the lazy 
 cows whisking their tails to keep off the jflies, 
 while the river rippled and gushed at your 
 feet. Those meadows, too, were a sort of 
 promenade in the cool of the evening ; the 
 gentlemen staying in the village to fish came 
 down to try and trap the wily trout, and, 
 standing up to their knees in the stream, 
 called out nonsense and messages to each 
 other, or carried on a sly flirtation with some 
 girls on the opposite side. I wonder if any 
 of the frequenters of the river side ever re- 
 member those evenings ? I wonder if in the 
 mysterious lull of a summer's night their 
 souls at the very gates of hell are not stayed, 
 and the sweet scene with its entrancing calm, 
 as if brushed by angel's wings, does not float
 
 210 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 througli their dimmed brains ? if there is not 
 one effort made to recall that time, if there is 
 not one sigh heaved as they recollect what 
 was and what is ? I should like them to re- 
 member ; and yet I could wish to spare them, 
 for out of the joy comes keen* sorrow. 
 
 " Well," began Miss Lucy, placing herself 
 on a couch near a window, " the curiosity 
 is not down. My dear, I am prepared to see 
 a second edition of the ' affi^ighted Sailor,' a 
 wild looking creature with long, uncombed 
 locks flying down his back ; in fact, all hair 
 and teeth like a Scotch terrier, with his 
 clothes tucked in, showing ever so much of 
 his neck, which, by the way, I hope may be 
 clean. Those genuises always require every- 
 thing very loose, I suppose because their 
 inspiration causes them to swell to such a size 
 at times, that without that precaution was 
 taken they might burst, and the buttons go 
 pop, pop, which, I should say, would be very 
 embarrassing, eh, Eenie? Do you recollect
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 211 
 
 Ludderdale Carpenie and his music? That 
 class where we were all fools, and him the 
 biggest. ' Top of the class we feel so grand, 
 in the middle we form a band, but down 
 below were forced to stand,' the latter phrase 
 referring principally to Amelia, who, from 
 time to time, kept muttering under her 
 breath — ' Catch a weasel asleep.' And then 
 that — ' Now top lady sing out,' followed by 
 Kate, all of a shiver and shake, twittering 
 — ' White sand and gray sand.' It is a 
 miracle how I ever suppressed my mirth ; I 
 was in one convulsion from the time I went 
 in to the time I came out. And I dared not 
 answer a question many a time, for I knew if 
 I opened my lips I should laugh. Oh ! that 
 ' Hill Cottage ;' if my inside's injured, I lay 
 the blame at it's door, remember. Renie, what- 
 ever's to do ? You look like a boiled cod." 
 
 Lucy might well ask, for Renie was gazing 
 in a petrefied manner through a mirror at 
 something half in and half out of a window, 
 with the clematis touchino; its head. Such a
 
 212 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 nice sometliing too ; so fresh and sweet look- 
 ing, with a girlish smile playing round the 
 pouting mouth. A perfect crop of chesnut 
 hair, half waves, half curls, and such a couple 
 of dreamy, innocent blue eyes. The collar 
 was thrown open and back, displaying a well- 
 shaped throat of marvellous whiteness. In 
 place of a white tie was a knot of cherry 
 coloured satin; the dress clothes of fine 
 cloth fitted charmingly on the tall, supple 
 figure. It was a wonder the angels did not 
 steal him when a child to be a cherub. 
 Don't imagine that the object I have described 
 was all this time in the window. Nothing 
 of the sort ; he was standing close to the girls, 
 watching their faces of astonishment, and 
 making an ill attempt, if any, to conceal 
 his amusement. Renie bowed, and held out 
 her hand. 
 
 " Mr. Sebastain, I presume ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am Rufus Sebastain, and you 
 are—?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 213 
 
 " Eenie Rudkin ; this is Miss Northwood, 
 my friend." 
 
 The smile deepened into a broad grin as lie 
 bowed to Lucy, who had gathered herself up 
 in haste. 
 
 It was no use, in a second they were all 
 laughing heartily, and Lucy, recovering first, 
 said — 
 
 " And so you heard my opinion of you, 
 Mr. Sebastain ? Well, I never expected any- 
 thing like what you are, did you, Renie ?" 
 
 " No," replied he, laughing and showing two 
 rows of white teeth, " you expected all hair and 
 teeth. But do I suit your ladyship ?" 
 
 He shook back the long mane and flashed a 
 proud glance at the almost extinguished Lucy. 
 
 " Perfectly, and I hope you are not angry 
 at my rudeness ; not that it distresses me very 
 much either way. It serves you right for 
 listening. You know listeners never hear any 
 good of themselves." 
 
 " But I did not hear any bad, Miss North-
 
 214 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 wood, only some most severe cuts, which I 
 shall try my best not to merit. Instead of 
 regretting it, I regard it as a slice of prime 
 fortunes for it will save all that dancing 
 attendance and foolery that some young ladies 
 deem necessary before they make friends with 
 one. It sickens me, and they might roll 
 their eyes for ever before I'd take to rolling 
 mine. I hope I'm going to paint you two. 
 Now, if we could only get up that luckless 
 Ludderdale Carpenie's class ; where' s he to 
 be seen ?" 
 
 *' Oh no, Mr. Sebastain, don't mention 
 that, because the choice specimen is in the 
 flesh, cutting a great dash, and you are not 
 to paint my portrait. I am too poor to pay 
 you, unless it be with love." 
 
 " The most acceptable thing you could 
 offer a poor friendless devil like me. You 
 should have thought before you spoke, Miss 
 Northwood. Who knows but what I may 
 hold you to your bargain ?"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 215 
 
 " I am not afraid ; but we are astonishing 
 Eenie." 
 
 " Rather. No ! our faces are not well 
 enough formed to be preserved ; it is my new 
 aunt, uncle, and the child you are to try your 
 hand at. I don't know where they've made 
 your studio, I am sure. Here's uncle." 
 
 " Then I'd better put the settee between 
 us, or the old gentleman may be scared." 
 
 With • that he twisted himself round and 
 instantly stood, the picture of a gentleman, 
 a respectful distance from the young ladies. 
 
 In came Sir Bevis with his stately measured 
 tread, his white head slightly on one side. 
 
 "Well, my dears. Ah, Mr.Sebastain, it 
 just occurred to me how you would manage, 
 so I left Lady Rudkin and hurried down. 
 But you have struck up an acquaintance, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Oh yes. Miss Rudkin took me in hand," 
 and he laughed. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Renie is equal to all emer-
 
 216 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 gencies; she lias no prudisli notions. How 
 do you define etiquette, Eenie ?" 
 
 " It is not worth a definition, uncle. I 
 don't believe there is any rule for it, beyond 
 doing and saying what is most natural in an 
 unstudied manner, and paying due respect to 
 everyone's feelings." 
 
 " Perfectly correct, Miss Kudkin ; that is 
 the true stand for a lady to take. I only 
 wish some of your ideas could be blown into 
 other people's heads, it would render it far 
 more agreeable to outsiders. Society appears 
 to me to be all in cliques, heads, like beasts 
 at a cattle show. Now a little amalgamation 
 would be both beneficial and refreshing, if 
 you could only get the people to understand 
 the object and treat it properly. I just hate 
 any influential grandees to ask me to their 
 houses. I don't mind the criticism, and 
 inspection through eye-glasses, but I feel 
 so inclined to turn my back upon them 
 in the middle of the performance. The
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 217 
 
 host very kindly indicates who and what 
 you are in a polite whisper, and they hum 
 and haw and blow, and regard you as if you 
 were the celebrated leopard with nineteen 
 spots on his back. On the other hand, if the 
 patroness good naturedly takes you under 
 her wing and makes a pet of you, you are, 
 according to my idea, immediately reduced to 
 the level of a ' King Charles.' So that it is 
 questionable which way is the best for an 
 outsider to effect an entrance into society, as 
 it is in this age. Those who have a string of 
 ancestors at the tip of their tongue as long 
 as one's arm, get a free pass, but anyone 
 shrouded in obscurity may leave their ex- 
 hausted remains on the door-step, to be swept 
 off by the porter." 
 
 This speech had been delivered in a cold, 
 hard tone, immersed in bitterness, and two 
 red spots burnt on each cheek. Sir Bevis 
 regarded him in a fatherly, kind manner. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 The young man had not a little astonished 
 the old one ; but he quickly saw it was not 
 hearsay, but experience, that prompted the 
 proud fellow to speak. The Baronet may 
 have had the desire to say something kind, 
 but he could not make up his mind what. 
 Meanwhile Eenie moved nearer to Rufus 
 Sebastain, and putting her hand on his sleeve 
 in a friendly, sisterly way, said in a low 
 tone — 
 
 " May there not be such a thing as an 
 exaggerated grievance, Mr. Sebastain ? Don't 
 you think you are over sensitive ? That 
 comes of being too highly bred. You should 
 be like me, more of a plebeian, then you 
 would not feel half the slights and pushes. I 
 fancy sometimes I am too bold?" 
 
 He gazed at her with a countenance of sur- 
 prise and incredulity, not unmingled with 
 pity. Some of the dimness had returned to 
 the splendid eyes, and now the soft, pale lids 
 dropped over them as if they were tired, and
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 219 
 
 in a voice that trembled, he said, too low for 
 any ears but hers — 
 
 '' God bless you, Miss Rudkin, for your 
 ready sympathy ; the touch of your hand does 
 me good. My life has been so void of all 
 gentleness. The match-seller in the street has 
 had more kisses and caresses than I ; it is a 
 wonder I am not a brute. But you know 
 nothing of such things ; I forgot to whom I 
 was speaking." 
 
 " There now, don't get startled at nothing, 
 and shy like a timid pony. I am no one of 
 consequence ; I am poor, and struggling, and, 
 what is worse, struggling in the dark, for I 
 dare not let it be known, which cripples me a 
 good deal. I can trust you." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, you may; what a queer girl 
 you are !" 
 
 The entrance of Lady E,udkin in pale pink 
 stopped all further conversation ; the old 
 Baronet went through the introducing with 
 evident satisfaction, and looked not a little 
 
 L 2
 
 220 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 proud of liis lovely wife. A few polite 
 phrases, and my lady took Iter stand near her 
 husband and Lucy, all three waiting the call 
 to dinner. Renie glanced up at Rufus 
 Sebastain; she desired to ascertain, if pos- 
 sible, what sort of an impression the peerless 
 beauty of Lady Eudkin had made upon him. 
 He was studying her with the eye of a judge, 
 and, catching Eenie's upturned ones, and, 
 reading their meaning, he replied — 
 
 " Beautiful ! But if I painted her my own 
 way, it would be as one of the characters in 
 ' Hamlet ;' I should make her ' Queen.' " 
 
 " Mon DieuT' ejaculated Renie, under her 
 breath. 
 
 " We trust each other, you see, Miss 
 Eudkin ; I cannot go far astray in speaking 
 to you." 
 
 Eenie could scarcely believe her ears, and 
 then before another word could be uttered 
 she found herself going in to dinner, though 
 she did not feel much inclined for any. Eufus
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 221 
 
 Sebastain proved an entertaining, agreeable 
 companion, witb. a great deal of knowledge in 
 his bead. He quickly perceived tbat tbe 
 Rudkins were too sound-minded to treat bim 
 otberwise tban as an bonoured guest, and 
 took every possible care not to be always re- 
 minding bim tbat be was bired to paint my 
 lady's picture. "Witbtbe dessert came master 
 baby, cbuckling and laugbing in great glee. 
 His fatber put bim to sit on tbe table, and 
 pincbed one dappled leg. 
 
 "Wbat do you tbink of tbis lad, Mr. 
 Sebastain ?" 
 
 Mr. Sebastain was regarding tbe boy witb 
 an astonisbed gaze, and presently, turning to 
 Sir Bevis, said — 
 
 " You bave bad as faitbful a portrait taken 
 of tbat cbild as you will ever get. Sir Bevis ; 
 I doubt if tbere could be a better." 
 
 It was now Sir Bevis's turn to be surprised, 
 and Lady Rudkin laugbed merrily. 
 
 " Dear me ! Mr. Sebastain, wbatever are
 
 222 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 you saying ? Rodney has never had "his like- 
 ness taken, and that's what makes ns desire 
 it — he is such a bonny little fellow." 
 
 " Why, Lady Rudkin, I saw it ! The por- 
 trait of that child is now in the Academy ; it 
 is called ' My Pet,' and one of the best there, 
 allowed by judges." 
 
 Eenie felt her face deepening in tone, and 
 Lucy, who sat next the positive artist, fairly 
 tittered with delight. But Renie's face spoke 
 volumes, and Lucy felt compelled to hasten to 
 the rescue before it was too late. What could 
 she do ? Touch his foot, and then give him 
 a look of reprimand. ISTo sooner thought 
 than done. Now, had Rufus Sebastain been 
 a donkey, all would have been up, but he was 
 not. He did not suddenly turn in the direc- 
 tion of the poke, but looked to ascertain the 
 cause of the telegraph before answering it. 
 He looked at Renie, and read there that he 
 must discover he was mistaken. A smile 
 played round the pleasant lips, and before
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 223 
 
 Sir Bdvis or his wife could respond to the in- 
 teUigence that the likeness of the young heir 
 was disported on the walls of the Academy, 
 he turned, and, bowing, said — 
 
 " Pardon my rudeness, Lady Rudkin, but 
 I never was so deceived before ; I felt posi- 
 tive I beheld the original of that charming 
 little picture. But at the same time I do not 
 think you can do better than buy it ; it is 
 wonderfully like that child." 
 
 " That child" was staring at the speaker with 
 round eyes, and his mother called him fondly. 
 
 " Rodney, my precious, do you hear what 
 Mr. Sebastain says ? Come to mamma, and 
 be kissed." 
 
 The boy slid along the polished table into 
 his mamma's lap, and commenced a game at 
 " bo-peep " with his long curls. 
 
 " Children are so much alike, Mr. Sebas- 
 tain, at this age," continued Lady Rudkin, 
 " that one may be easily deceived." 
 
 Rodney was busily engaged boring a hole.
 
 224 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 with one chubby finger, in liis mamma's white 
 neck. Sir Bevis looked first on one side and 
 then the other. 
 
 " What is that boy doing, mamma ?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied his wife, laughing. 
 
 " Rodney, what are you about ?" called his 
 father. 
 
 " Kill ze pig, pa," responded the baby 
 butcher, without turning his sunny head. 
 
 There was a general laugh, which prompted 
 master baby to further exploits, for wheeling 
 round suddenly he delivered the following 
 choice sentiment, with his button of a mouth 
 all in a pucker : — 
 
 " Pigs might f 'y, but they're wery unlikely 
 birds." 
 
 Eufus Sebastain laughed loud. 
 
 " You are all in the pig line, little man. 
 He is a pretty plaything." 
 
 " Ah, that's your idea of children, is it ? 
 Plaything ! you'll find your mistake some 
 day," and the old man sighed.
 
 THE mLL WHEEL. 225 
 
 The artist smiled an apology to Lady 
 Rudkin, and said — 
 
 " I don't know how to estimate domestic 
 happiness of any sort, or love, or gifts ; I 
 have never had a home all my life. I think 
 if anyone took the trouble to care for me, I 
 should not know what return to make." 
 
 This was said so sadly ; it cut Renie to see 
 a great man so lonely. 
 
 " You are, I believe, a Spaniard, are you 
 not, Mr. Sebastain ? But I don't think you 
 can be : Wigfton must have been thinkinof of 
 someone else." 
 
 " No ; he was thinking of me when he 
 wrote to you. Sir Bevis. I suppose I am a 
 Spaniard, though I don't look the sort to 
 belong to that country ; but I must have been 
 born somewhere, and Spain suits my purpose 
 as well as anywhere else." 
 
 Lady Rudkin looked askance for more, but 
 he did not seem disposed to tell his history, 
 and there it ended. 
 
 L 5
 
 226 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 With tea came Sir Bevis and Rufus Sebas- 
 tain, and my lady roused up. It was quite 
 cool now, and the artist asked to be shown 
 the gardens ; there was still enough light for 
 that. 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; here, my dears, take Mr. 
 Sebastain out. Remember I leave him in 
 your hands, Renie ; you must take him about 
 and amuse him. My legs are not so nimble 
 as they had used to be. Lucy, what are you 
 doing ?" 
 
 '' Teaching Lady Rudkin how to tat. Sir 
 Bevis. Gro along, Renie; I will follow pre- 
 sently." 
 
 The two accordingly went, and Lucy's 
 " presently " expanded into a long time. Her 
 pupil was terribly dull and worrying; but 
 Lucy considered it best to forego the ramble, 
 and instruct the pretty doll, for it pleased Sir 
 Bevis.
 
 TRK MILL WHEEL. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 *' Now take me to a nice shady place, Miss 
 Eudkin," said Sebastain ; " I like trees better 
 than flowers any day. Eemember I am your 
 charge, so I shall expect you to see to me con- 
 stantly." 
 
 " Very well, I'll do my best to take care of 
 you. I like the walk by the river side ; so 
 suppose we go ?" 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 Arrived there, they seated themselves on a 
 rustic seat under a fine lime, and the artist 
 gazed for several seconds on the lovely scene.
 
 228 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 It looked just enchanting. The moon was 
 out and danced on the water, while on the 
 island the moor-hens and water fowls were 
 making their peculiar cry. All round were 
 the meadows and woods, silvered bj the 
 moonlight, and down the stream could be 
 heard distinctly the splash of the water mill. 
 Ah ! summer night, so far away, why could 
 you not stay? Why need the giant hand 
 Despair have gripped any soul ? Why could 
 not their breath have passed with the gentle 
 wind that breathed through the grass, and 
 the last sound in their ears have been the 
 burr of the water wheel ? If the pale light 
 of day could only have shown one less on 
 earth and one more in heaven, surely there 
 would have been great rejoicing in that city 
 that hath no need of the sun neither of the 
 moon to shine in it, for the glory of God doth 
 lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. 
 
 " How lovely it is here," said Eufus Sebas- 
 tain, drawing a long breath at last, and turn-
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 229 
 
 ing to Renie. " And now I want you to tell 
 me something. Are not you tlie artist that 
 painted ' My Pet ' ?" 
 
 "Yes, I am. I had better plead guilty, 
 Mr. Sebastain, and throw myself on your 
 mercy. I did do it. I gain a little by my 
 pictures, and it is a great help to me, because 
 my patrimony is very small, and can never 
 increase. But none of my family know of it, 
 and I ask you to keep my secret ?" 
 
 " Yes, depend upon it I will. But I almost 
 took my oath to your aunt, because there is 
 no mistaking the child; you have made a 
 decided hit. Miss Northwood's dig was not 
 a second too soon ; it is a happy thing I have 
 no corns, else I should have howled, for I do 
 assure you she was so intent upon screening 
 you that she quite forgot to be gentle. I have 
 still doubts as to the condition of my toe. 
 But come, tell me, how did you get it into the 
 Academy ?" 
 
 " I never got it in at all ; I did not know it
 
 230 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 was there. I send my pictures to a ricli old 
 gentleman, named Twinkleton, a friend of 
 the Northwoods ; and he buys them, or sells 
 them to his friends, and remits me the money. 
 I suppose he must have put it there." 
 
 " Yes, no doubt, seeing its beauty. But 
 it is a pity you don't tell your uncle, because 
 he will never get so good a likeness ; it is not 
 one in twenty that gets it so exact, and you 
 have worked it so prettily." 
 
 Thus they talked ; he asked her all about 
 her struggling and trying, and the girl told 
 the simple story without any attributes. It 
 needed none, and so thought Eufus Sebastain, 
 as he looked, leaning his cheek on his hand, 
 at her serious face. She seemed so weak, and 
 yet so strong ; she had battled it out alone, 
 while many a man would have sunk under it ; 
 and then she was satisfied, out of her very 
 innocence, with what she had made, and 
 determined to continue her efforts in 
 the same quiet, unobtrusive way. Fame
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 231 
 
 mattered not to her; she did not care if 
 the great city rang again with her praises, 
 the crj would not reach her, if only she 
 made sufficient to supply her several wants, 
 she valued not the eclat. The man by her 
 side marvelled when he thought of the heart- 
 aches and headaches over things not half so 
 worthy. Yet here was this girl sleeping 
 placidly, and going contentedly about, quite 
 ignorant that " Miss Dorothy" was becoming 
 of value in the market. 
 
 " Do you know you have every right to be 
 conceited, Miss Rudkin ?" 
 
 " Have I ? I certainly don't recognise it." 
 " Xo, that is the way with you women ; 
 you are so saintly, at least some, that you 
 don't care for feathers in your caps. Now 
 half the men love sound, nay, almost live 
 on it, till the delusion becomes a reality in 
 their dazzled brains. "Women are so endur- 
 ing, so happy with a little, they are a lesson 
 to us men."
 
 232 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " I daresay you are ambitious, Mr. Sebas- 
 tain ; and like to appear well in the world's 
 eye?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Rudkin, I do ; consequently I 
 never save a shilling ; it all goes in keeping 
 up appearances, and that's a fact. I have 
 only three pounds, in all the world, at this 
 present moment ; I don't seem to mind telling 
 you, though I believe I should go mad if I 
 thought the world knew it. They all know I 
 am poor ; we young artists always are, but 
 they little imagine what a close shave it is at 
 times." 
 
 Renie eyed him pityingly. 
 
 " Why are you not more resolute, and save 
 your money? You would not be less a 
 gentleman, in the true sense of the term, for 
 a little privation and pinching. What does 
 your mother say to you, Mr. Sebastain ? 
 How does she advise you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Rudkin, that is my drawback. 
 I think — I think that is the blast of my life
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 23B 
 
 — I have no motlier. No one to love me ; no 
 one to lead me. 1 am at the beck and call of 
 every vice and temptation. I am a waif, and 
 have been driven all my life, and shall be, I 
 suppose, till I die. I have only one redeem- 
 ing quality, and that is pride. It is my only 
 friend, my safeguard ; without it I, most pro- 
 bably, should be a vagabond, for I have had no 
 care, no example. But it has prevented me 
 doing things many a time ; and I love it as 
 my life. My one idea is to be a great man ; 
 to rank high, and be rich ; then I think I can 
 rest and seek the right path, if there is such 
 a thing, for I have been in the wrong all my 
 life." 
 
 " Don't wait till you are rich, Mr. Sebas- 
 tain ; commence now, at once ; remember 
 God does not allow stipulations." 
 
 " Doesn't He ? Well, listen Miss Rudkin, 
 I have got a strange fancy in my head to tell 
 you my history. I ought, perhaps, to have 
 satisfied Lady Rudkin's curiosity at dinner^
 
 234 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 but I have never told a living soul ; I shrink 
 from it. But I feel as if you were not strange 
 to me, as if we had met before, and T should 
 like to tell you.'* 
 
 "And do you know I have been wishing to 
 hear it ; only I did not like asking you, so 
 you see the feeling is mutual." 
 
 "Is it ? Then I will commence. This is 
 such a nice place to tell it in, because there 
 are no gay sights or sounds, everything is 
 hushed, like my life. 
 
 " I am now somewhere about five or six 
 and twenty. I am not certain which. My 
 memory carries me back a long way — to the 
 days before 1 understood the meaning of 
 words or could speak. But a few things I 
 saw I partly remember. The first objects I 
 noticed were trees, leaves, and birds. All 
 was green, and I seemed to have awakened 
 in the woods. I have a recollection of the 
 sun, and lying on the grass, and with that 
 recollection comes the faint outline of a face —
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 235 
 
 a woman's — who smiled at me througli the 
 trees. I often see that face in my dreams 
 now, and it is always peeping between the 
 boughs above me. That portion seems a 
 mist. I cannot tell the name of the place or 
 of anyone, but I just remember, the scene as 
 I have told you. The next view is totally 
 different. My eyes opened on four walls, a 
 bed, and various images on the stones. Tarn 
 now in a monastery in Spain; the monks 
 whip me and make me learn, and I get black 
 bread and fruits to eat. I have to say long 
 prayers, that I don't understand, on my knees 
 on the cold stones, to the hideous figure of a 
 woman in marble, without any eyes. I have 
 to confess my sins, and every time go with- 
 out my food or do a double lesson. But I 
 may as well skip all that ; it was a horrid 
 life, but I will give them (devils though they 
 were) credit for one thing. They knocked 
 something into me. From a child I always 
 could make pictures, and got punished very
 
 236 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 often for it too. It was a wonder I did not 
 hate the sight of a brush or pencil. Well,, 
 one day in spring they called me to them, and 
 gave me a valise and a sum of money, and told 
 me I must go and work for myself. I was 
 well educated, and I must turn it to account, 
 for that was all I would ever get. I did not 
 feel sorry to be set at liberty. Lads of six- 
 teen don't care very much for the future at 
 that age, and I got dreadfully impatient, 
 while the Abbot said a benediction over my 
 head. But as soon as it was finished I 
 dashed out, the heavy door was barred after 
 me, and I was an outcast. It did not trouble 
 me much at first ; I had money, the last that 
 had been paid for me. I had only a name — 
 Rufus Sebastain — -no father, no mother, no 
 friends, few clothes, and about five pounds in 
 Spanish coin. On that I was to live as long as 
 it would last, and afterwards starve, or thieve 
 or beg. 
 
 " For the first few days I rather enjoyed 
 my freedom, but at the end of that time I
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 237 
 
 began to consider what I should do. First 
 and foremost, not go back to the monastery — 
 I would have died sooner than do that. 
 Secondly, my money would not last for 
 ever, so I must work. Thirdly, what at ? 
 I thought everything over, but I only 
 favoured one thing — I would be an artist, 
 and I jumped up and commenced trudging 
 anew down the long, dry road. About eight 
 at night I arrived, footsore and weary, at a 
 great city, and upon asking the name I 
 was told Madrid. I had no idea where I 
 had come from. I had travelled miles and 
 miles, sometimes on mules or in carts, but 
 oftener on foot. It was a fortnight since 
 they had turned me out of the monastery, and 
 I had bought food as I could, sometimes 
 getting none. I sat down under a large 
 building, and cried as if my boyish heart 
 would break. I felt lonely for the first time. 
 In the country, I had no one else to remind 
 me of my forlorn position ; but here, in this
 
 238 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 city, all had homes ; I had none. Don't de- 
 spise me for my weakness. Miss Rudkin ; re- 
 member I was little better than a child, for 
 most of my sixteen years had been dragged 
 out within the walls of a secluded monastery. 
 But while I wept, a woman came by, leading 
 a child by the hand ; it was crying, no doubt 
 sleepy. She was comforting it with kind 
 words, and encouraging it, for she could not 
 take it up, her other hand being required to 
 steady a pitcher on her head. As I listened 
 to the tender, hopeful words, my own destitu- 
 tion almost overwhelmed me, and I cried 
 aloud. The woman turned and addressed me 
 in Spanish, and asked my sorrow ; I told her, 
 for her motherly face won my heart. 
 
 " As she listened, her black eyes filled with 
 tears, and she squeezed the now silent child 
 more closely to her side. She then bade me 
 follow her to her own house, hard by, and I 
 lodged there for long. That poor Spanish 
 woman was the first creature that had ever
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 239 
 
 spoken a kind word to me, Miss Rudkin, and 
 I pray for lier every night of my life, and if 
 the prayers of a sinner are any good, she will 
 be at peace in the next world." 
 
 He did not say anything for a second, and 
 Renie fancied she saw something glitter on 
 the long lashes. Presently he resumed his 
 narrative. 
 
 " Now, my desire was to get something to 
 do, and I traversed miles, in search of work ; 
 but none of the artists would take me to 
 assist them. They did not want a lad; ap- 
 prentices were to be had for nothing. My 
 spirit almost died within me, as night after 
 night I returned to my bed, and was no 
 nearer to my object. But the poor woman, 
 my angel, cheered me on, and made me begin 
 my quest each morning afresh. At last I 
 found a shop, down a back alley, worse than 
 the lowest of your pawnshops in London, 
 kept by an old picture dealer, a man who 
 could any day have passed for his satanic
 
 '240 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 majesty. Tlie life I led with tliat old demon 
 makes my blood curdle now. 
 
 '' Oaths and the most foul words were 
 his language, and I have had him swear at 
 me and tear his hair out by handfuls, like a 
 raving maniac, till he has fallen down in a 
 convulsion on the dirty floor. He soon dis- 
 covered my ability, and my life was as bad, if 
 not worse, than a slave's. He paid me just 
 enough to live on, and keep body and soul 
 together. He made me paint pictures, which 
 he sold, old Judas ! and laughed and chuckled 
 over the gold while I was well nigh starving. 
 But I dared not quarrel with him, for fear I 
 got turned into the streets again, and besides, 
 I was learning — learning well. He was a 
 capital master, though an unmerciful one, and 
 my ambition was great. Miss Eudkin. Three 
 years and more I stopped with him, and one 
 day a noted artist, an Englishman, came to 
 the shop to buy something, and saw some of 
 my pictures.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 241 
 
 " He asked my master about me, and I 
 suppose the answer was satisfactory, for I 
 agreed to go with him, and I was actually 
 bought, for he paid the old demon money 
 down for me. 
 
 " This, my third life, was better, slightly, 
 than its predecessors. My master was travel- 
 ling to improve himself ; he was a rich man, 
 not that he had made the money, but he 
 had inherited some. So he bought me 
 a bargain, and made plenty out of me. 
 I was, however, better dressed, lodged, 
 and fed, and had pocket-money, so I 
 thought myself favoured. We went all 
 over Italy, and stopped nearly two years in 
 Rome. I got on well, and my master petted 
 me greatly, and would not let me out of his 
 sight. I thought him the best, the kindest 
 man that ever lived, but I all at once found 
 my mistake out. I was a fool, a dolt, a cat's- 
 paw in the hands of this rich mean English- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 man. What do you think he was doing, Miss 
 Rudkin ? putting his name to my pictures. 
 Yes, I, the poor lad out of the monastery, 
 painted the pictures that made that scoundrel 
 famous. I saw one in the dining-room of one 
 of the present members of Parliament not a 
 month since. It is the picture of a poor 
 tramp asleep under a hay rick, and he is 
 dreaming. There is an angel hovering over 
 the poor fellow, and to that angel I gave 
 the face I first remember, the one I see 
 in my dreams. I often wonder which is 
 burning the most, my first or second master. 
 After I left the cheat, I worked and roamed 
 about by myself for years. I have travelled 
 a great deal, and for fourteen months I have 
 been in London, working for Wigton and 
 myself. Now you know my history ; how I 
 have been beaten, half starved, insulted, and 
 wronged ; how I have lived alone, without 
 help, without love, with no one to show me
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 243 
 
 riglit from wrong, no parents and next to no 
 name. Whether Sebastain is my name 
 really, or one the monks gave me, I can- 
 not tell, but I keep it for want of a 
 better. And now, Miss E-udkin, you have 
 hoard my true story (but only for your 
 ears), now tell me what you think of me — 
 am I a fair specimen of a homeless, friend- 
 less vagabond ?" 
 
 Renie had listened attentively to the his- 
 tory, and she wondered to see him the 
 gentleman he was after such a life, without 
 any example to guide him ; for that he was a 
 gentleman there was no questioning, every 
 movement bespoke it. He might have lived 
 fi'om his cradle in the midst of peace and 
 plenty ; his hands bore no trace of toil, and 
 it was hard, while looking at him, to remember 
 that he had slaved amid great misery from 
 the age of sixteen, and made himself what 
 he was. How was it he had escaped, when 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 the sons of gentlemen sometimes sink to the 
 depths of vice and degradation ? 
 
 But he was waiting for her to speak, with 
 the breeze playing with his long hair ; perhaps 
 he saw the reflection of his boy life on the 
 river, for his face wore such a dejected, 
 sorrowful look. Renie touched him. 
 
 " Mr. Sebastain, what are you thinking 
 about?" 
 
 " Nothing very pleasant. Miss Eudkin ; 
 but alas ! misery never forgets her com- 
 panions, though they would forget her, and 
 returns to them, though invisible to others, 
 when least desired." 
 
 " Now I guess what you are thinking of, 
 and let me tell you ; you see with crooked 
 eyes. You want to know what I think of 
 you; whether you are a fair specimen of — 
 what shall I call it ? — vagabondizing ? Now 
 listen to my opinion. The story you have 
 told me is the last I should ever have thought
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 245 
 
 belonged to you ; there is not a single trace 
 of the waif or vagabond about you. You are 
 essentially a gentleman ; from your appear- 
 ance one would suppose you to have been 
 nursed all your life on the lap of luxury. 
 But you know differently, and the misery 
 and hardship of your life are like a night- 
 mare, haunting you even in the sunlight ; and 
 you imagine yourself stamped, blasted, be- 
 cause you have not a cavalcade of respectable 
 relations to call round you. You make a 
 great mistake — you are better without them. 
 No one would be good enough to belong to 
 you ; you are a wonder, a hero as it is. But 
 had you been the son of a nobleman, you 
 would have only been a natural result, not 
 one whit out of the common, and I for one 
 should never have thought twice about you. 
 You need not feel ashamed of your past life, 
 it is a credit to you. If any fools are disposed 
 to sneer at it, you may treat them with con-
 
 246 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 tempt, for you can say, ' Behold tlie result V 
 We feel no surprise at seeing flowers in a 
 garden, but we should be amazed to find a 
 camelia in a ditch. You deserve to be knighted, 
 Mr. Sebastain !" 
 
 " Miss Eudkin, you take my breath away ; 
 and that is your opinion ? Well, I have 
 always felt oppresssed, and as if everyone 
 deemed me an adventurer, and not to be 
 trusted; it has made me bitter at times. But 
 I don't think I shall care so much now, after 
 your cheering words ; but do you know you 
 are not like the generality. You don't follow 
 the marked road." 
 
 ''No, I daresay not, we are all prone to 
 follow the strongest party, especially if of the 
 world, and mix in it. But I don't ; I shall 
 never enter society. All I want from the 
 world is a living, and to get that I need not 
 offer my ideas. But I feel safer where the 
 ground is firmest and highest, so I just keep
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 247 
 
 to it. The beaten road seems to me to be all 
 dust, not half the people see where they are 
 going to. Mr. Sebastain, do you know you 
 are covered with dust, dust from the shoes of 
 great people ?" 
 
 '^Oh! MissRudkin!" 
 
 " Yes, but you are ; and if I were you I'd 
 brush it off. You need not do exactly what 
 other people do, unless you want to be lost 
 in the crowd, and then I should like to know 
 who'll take the trouble to find you ? Cease 
 that nonsense of 'keeping up appearance,' 
 it's the greatest snare out, it nets thousands, 
 and they go following the gander all their 
 lives, like a flock of geese. If you are the 
 attraction yourself, you will have plenty of 
 visitors, no matter whether your boots are 
 square or round-toed, whether you ride in a 
 cab or a carriage." 
 
 '* True ; but you want some courage to face 
 the world the contrary way ; it is like run-
 
 248 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 ning against the wind, you get out of breath. 
 Yet I know what you say is correct, and I 
 shall never be independent as long as I keep up 
 appearance, but it is so difficult to get an un- 
 polished unset gem ; however rare, it is valued 
 at nothing in their eyes without the setting ; 
 they like the gleam and glitter of the gold. 
 Oh! me; I am mortally weak, and I know it 
 is my failing, but I will try to think less of 
 sound. As I just now told you, pride has 
 kept me from falling, but for that I verily 
 believe I should have been hanged or trans- 
 ported before now, I have been so tossed 
 about. I am like a ship, too free ; I want 
 ballast." 
 
 Renie did not answer, she looked at the 
 trees, reflected by the moon down the stream. 
 
 " "What are you thinking of. Miss Eudkin ? 
 Your brows are knit," and he gazed into her 
 face. 
 
 "I daresay," replied the girl, clearing them.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 249 
 
 but not smiling. " I was just thinking of 
 our two characters ; you are too daring and 
 easily led ; I am too cautious and stubborn. 
 What a pity we cannot divide them.'* 
 
 " Yes, it 25 a pity. But aren't you cold ? I 
 see someone coming under the trees yonder ; 
 it is Miss Northwood, I suppose." 
 
 M 5
 
 250 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 " Found at last," exclaimed Lucj, stopping 
 before them. " Wliat have you two been 
 talking about ? I should like to know. 
 Eenie looks as if she had quite made up her 
 mind about something. Mr. Sebastain, you 
 don't know what a determined girl this is ?" 
 
 '' Yes I do, Miss North wood. Miss Rudkin 
 is true to her purpose, and I only wish I 
 could be like her. But do sit down." 
 
 " Thanks ; since you are so kind I will. I
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 251 
 
 need not inquire whether you are in posses- 
 sion of Eenie's secret. You could not have 
 sat here in this moonlight without betraying 
 some confidence. Nothing like moonlight for 
 secrets to come out. You must have been 
 telling them, if you have not been making 
 love, which I don't think probable, Renie not 
 being a soapy young lady." 
 
 Eufus Sebastain laughed outright, and 
 Renie joined them. 
 
 " Never mind, Lucy, there's no harm done, 
 or offence given ; we have not been doing 
 spoons, we have been talking like two sages, 
 and Mr. Sabastain does know my secret." 
 
 *' That reminds me. Miss Eudkin ; I want 
 to examine your studio some time ; the sooner 
 the better, as far as I am concerned." 
 
 " Well, I have no objection ; but you will 
 not, I fear, get repaid for the trouble. My 
 studio is in the west wing, a long way from 
 your rooms ; but ask your way from one of the
 
 252 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 servants or Eodnej ; lie is always scampering 
 about by the nursery door, and lie will gladly 
 conduct you to Aunt Renie's sitting-room, for 
 it is not supposed to merit any other title. 
 And now, supposing we take a turn, we have 
 sat so long." 
 
 The three continued to saunter by the river 
 till nearly bed time, and they might have 
 known each other years, they were so free and 
 easy. They had no scruples; Renie and 
 Lucy were not afraid of him supposing them 
 in love with him, and he saw it. And, for 
 another reason, he plainly perceived they were 
 not impressionable, designing girls ; so he 
 threw off all restraint, and chatted freely 
 about unusual topics. Half the men are 
 frightened out of being candid and friendly by 
 the traps young ladies so openly set for them, 
 and to protect themselves, poor beset 
 wretches ! they put out as many spikes as a 
 hedgehog. A girl is to be pitied if she is left
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 253 
 
 to entertain one of these seasoned mortals for 
 any length of time. If she is frank and 
 chatty, and ventures to give her opinion and 
 ask his about any sensible subject, not general 
 in small talk, he will eye her in alarm and 
 astonishment, and cast frequent glances 
 towards the door, doubtless conjecturing that 
 the termination to such confidential free con- 
 versation will be an offer. Or that she will 
 faint, and when mamma tenderly asks the 
 cause of her darling's agitation say Mr. So-and- 
 So has proposed to her. But there are girls 
 who don't imagine every gentleman they meet 
 is in love with them, and it simply disgusts 
 them to see men so careful and guarded, and 
 evidently afraid of being hooked against 
 their inclination. 
 
 Rufus Sebastain could not at first compre- 
 hend what made these two girls so pleasant 
 and entertaining; he felt he enjoyed theii^ 
 society, and did not desire to be relieved of
 
 254 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 them, as he had often done while talking to a 
 beautiful creature who had been presented at 
 the last drawing-room. 
 
 There were no awkward pauses in the con- 
 versation ard no studied movements, no 
 pensive downcast eyes or pleading upturned 
 ones. If he had said anything foolish, they 
 would have laughed at him, or told him of it ; 
 and if he had ventured to relate the sayings 
 of his great friend Sir George. Orofton, they 
 would have sneered and left him. But he 
 was not a man of that sort, and then they all 
 met on equal ground. 
 
 When Renie stopped at the end window, 
 and said — 
 
 " Now we are going in, but you will doubt- 
 less smoke a while yet ?" 
 
 He made no attempt to conceal his dis- 
 appointment, but replied — 
 
 " I am very sorry to lose you, I have not 
 had such a refreshing jolly talk for years, but 
 I am coming in too !"
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 255 
 
 "Well, the truth is, Renie and I are not on 
 pins with you, you are the right sort — there 
 is, to use a slang term, no ' humbug ' about 
 you." 
 
 " Many thanks. Miss IS^orthwood; you could 
 not have paid me a greater compliment, or 
 pleased me more." 
 
 It was not only the girls who liked the poor 
 struggling artist, but Sir Bevis, and indeed 
 everyone. Norman Howard engaged him to 
 paint two or three pictures for him, so that 
 altogether Christmas Day might see him at 
 Moordart. There was a great deal of joking 
 done by Norman, who expressed himself con- 
 siderably relieved now that there was another 
 young man on the ground. For as this 
 country only allowed one wife, they could not 
 both marry the Count, and when it came to a 
 final decision, he and Addy feared the con- 
 sequences might be serious. 
 
 " Now, how have you arranged it ? who is 
 to be the Countess ?"
 
 256 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 "Ah, jou pest, Norman; you are bent 
 upon marrying us both to someone ; and it is 
 not with or by your leave. You had better 
 send for another, for I don't intend to com- 
 pete for either of these prizes." 
 
 And so it appeared. The artist had the 
 run of the house, and spent a great deal of 
 time in Renie's sitting-room. At last Sir 
 Bevis asked whether he found the west wing 
 better lighted, and he replied, " Yes, he 
 did." 
 
 So it ended by his studio being fixed there, 
 with the young lady's permission, and fine 
 morning's work used to be gone through with 
 the three friends. 
 
 Rufus Sebastain asked Renie to work with 
 him, he had seen a great many of her paint- 
 ings, and expressed himself astonished, but 
 she declined, because someone might pop in — 
 it was different now he was there. 
 
 " Oh, that need not trouble you, Miss
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 257 
 
 Rudkin, I can do away with that fear by this 
 simple act," and he turned the key. 
 
 "But, Mr. Sebastain," remonstrated Renie, 
 " it is scarcely proper for us to be locked in 
 here." 
 
 " Scarcely, in the eyes of the world, but we 
 are not in it just now ; in truth I feel quite out 
 of it up here with only the trees, sea, and birds 
 to look at. I am disposed to believe that my 
 salvation would be inevitable did I remain a 
 fixture here ; surroundings have a great deal 
 to do with actions. But don't let that put 
 you out. Miss Rudkin, your uncle is welcome 
 any time he chooses to come, but I cannot say 
 as much for his lady. And I really don't 
 require her, she has sat already twice, and I 
 need no further guide ; as for the boy, why we 
 will have him, because I intend you to paint 
 him." 
 
 " Mr. Sebastain, I cannot do it, it is your 
 work.'*
 
 258 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " I know that, but I am not so clever at 
 babies ; besides you did ' My Pet ' to perfec- 
 tion, and I want this to be the same, and then 
 I shall inform your uncle of the star at the 
 end of his family. They won't question our 
 doings much ; besides, there is a party of us — 
 four, with Christie, without counting the 
 child." 
 
 " Oh ! I was not perplexed about that ; if 
 you like to exclude intruders you have a right 
 to, I suppose." 
 
 And so the matter ended, and many and 
 many a peal of laughter burst from the open 
 windows of the west wing, and floated out 
 to sea on the breeze. Time passed, and the 
 pictures grew; my lady's portrait was ex- 
 tremely good, and the workmanship perfect. 
 It was nearly finished, and by its side stood 
 another easel, on which reposed the second 
 picture of Rodney. Renie was doing that, 
 but under a faithful promise that Mr.
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 259 
 
 Sebastain should put his name to it. Again 
 it was a success, and the artist loved to stand 
 and gaze as Renie dashed in the colours. The 
 child was taken holding a kitten in his dim- 
 pled arms, and his short petticoats all dragged 
 up, showing the rounded limbs, and garments 
 fringed with delicate lace. There was some- 
 thing so original and perfectly childlike in 
 the unstudied position that it was actually re- 
 freshing to the eye. 
 
 " There," exclaimed Renie, laying down 
 her brush, " I am tired," and she walked to 
 the window and joined Lucy, who was busy 
 working, under Christie's directions. 
 
 Rufus Sebastain did not stop; there was 
 some article of jewellery wanted for my lady's 
 bosom ; she was in full dress, and stood like 
 a Queen. Renie admired Lucy's work, and 
 heard Christie's wants and intentions, and 
 then fell into a dream, with her eyes fixed on 
 the waving sea.
 
 260 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 It was the end of September^ and a change 
 was apparent all around. She heard the 
 artist occasionally break into low snatches of 
 song, and murmur something about " Under 
 the Greenwood Tree," followed immediately 
 by an astonishing ditty, which sounded like 
 " Peter Snout was invited out," etc. This 
 choice effusion had created some amazement 
 in the studio when first heard, but Rufus 
 Sebastain at once apologized, and told how he 
 sung to himself when alone — they were his 
 working songs. And so it seemed, for when 
 he was busiest, or most absorbed, there came 
 a faint " Peter Snout — " And they had got 
 accustomed to it by now. Had Renie not 
 been dreaming that September day she would 
 have seen the artist toss aside his brush and 
 stretch himself, then commence a search on a 
 shelf in a closet for something, and presently 
 with his arms full, get down. There were 
 one or two attempts at " Under the Green-
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 261 
 
 wood Tree" and "Peter Snout," as a matter 
 of course, whicli attracted no attention, but 
 the next sound did, and three pairs of eyes 
 instantly turned in his direction. 
 
 " Great fleaven !" exclaimed he, starting 
 violently, and every particle of colour fading 
 from his face, "MissEudkiu, why — where — 
 who's this ?" 
 
 He held a sketch before him, on which his 
 eyes were fixed. 
 
 Renie went and looked over his shoulder, 
 followed by Lucy, needle in hand. It was 
 now their turn to start ; he had found the 
 likeness of the lovely Clorinda which Renie 
 had painted after the stolen visit to that 
 solemn chamber, and stowed carefully away 
 on an upper shelf. They gave an hurried 
 look at each other ; they must not say who it 
 was on any account. 
 
 Lucy was the first to recover herself, and 
 at once replied, indifferently —
 
 262 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 " Oh ! that is one of Renie's fancies." 
 
 " A fancy face, not taken from the original," 
 ninrmured Rufus Sebastain, more to himself 
 than to them. 
 
 Then, turning to Renie, with a wan smile 
 on his white face, he said — 
 
 " Your brain is full of strange fancies. Miss 
 Eudkin, and this is the strangest of all, be- 
 cause it finds its echo in mine. This face 
 fascinates, bewitches me ; it reminds me of — 
 but there, never mind ; if I tell you you will 
 only laugh," and he put the sketch down and 
 left the room. 
 
 He did not know how far from laughing 
 either of the girls were, or how quickly Eenie 
 picked it up and put it under lock and key. 
 
 " I don't think I shall indulge in any more 
 fancies of that sort, Lucy." 
 
 " No, indeed ! I hope you won't," replied 
 Lucy, speaking her mind, for Christie had left 
 the room. '' I trembled for the secret, Renie ;
 
 THE MILL WHEEL. 263 
 
 fortunately he was so mucli upset that he 
 never asked a direct question, else we should 
 have been obliged to tell a direct lie. Your 
 poor lost aunt was a lovely creature without 
 doubt, but yet her face does not bewitch me. 
 But men see what women don't, that's a fact. 
 I wonder if she is like his lost love. I have 
 often noticed him sad. No doubt it is a case 
 of blighted a:ffection, like all the rest of 
 romantic individuals." 
 
 " Perhaps," slowly answered Renie. 
 
 She was recollecting his sorrowful story 
 told under the trees the first night he came. 
 There certainly had been no mention of a love, 
 and for that very reason no doubt there was 
 one, so she held her peace. That story was 
 not to be repeated, so Lucy must be left to 
 wonder over his past career. Renie could not 
 quite comprehend the inducement that made 
 her his confidant ; certainly his trust was not 
 misplaced, and she felt interested and kindly
 
 264 THE MILL WHEEL. 
 
 disposed towards tlie struggling artist. No 
 harm could arise out of their friendship. No ; 
 it was purely Platonic. Renie was quite satis- 
 fied, and, half smiling, commenced to put 
 aside the things. 
 
 END or VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newbt, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. 
 
 K