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 BONNIE KATE. 
 
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 Ar f /f/t/£ 
 
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 BONNIE KATE 
 
 A STOR Y 
 FKOM A WOMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs LEITH ADAMS 
 
 (Mrs R. S. DE COUECY LAFFAN) 
 
 AUTHOR OF " AUNT HEPSY'S FOUNDLING; " " LOUIS DRAYCOTT," " GEOFFREY 
 STIRLING; " " MY LAND OF 15KULAII; " " MADELON LE5IOINE," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 " Love is not love 
 
 Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 
 Or bends with the remover to remove : 
 
 Oh no! it is an ever fixed maik 
 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken, 
 
 It is the star to every wandering bark 
 
 Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken." 
 
 Shakespeare's Sonnets, No. 11 (J 
 
 LONDON 
 
 KEG AN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO. Ltd. 
 
 1891
 
 $■23 
 
 r.l 
 
 
 Xovinglg DeDicateD 
 
 TO 
 
 .FLORENCE SCOTT, 
 
 WHOSE AFFECTION AND FRIENDSHIP HAVE BEEN, 
 
 AND EVER WILL BE, 
 
 TO ME 
 
 A VERY SWEET AND PRECIOUS THING. 
 
 Stratford-on-Avon, 
 1891.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TAGF 
 
 A Family Party . . . j 
 
 CHAP" SB II. 
 
 Across ireshold . 30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Among Simple Folk . . . , .55 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On Holy Ground ..... 88 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Low Cross Village . . . . .114 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Aunt Libbie feels aggrieved . . . 143
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple . . . . .168 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Melissa is altogether astonishing . . 195 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Lady Whimperdale ..... 229 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 By the Brook ...... 251
 
 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 
 
 Chloe had eaten her own dinner and eaten 
 the cat's dinner, and now, with the air of a 
 starving mendicant, was soliciting contribu- 
 tions from the afternoon tea-table of the 
 family to which she had the honour to belong. 
 
 Chloe was a pug of purest breed, with 
 a nose like a button, and a beautiful black 
 line running from her wrinkled forehead to 
 her upcurled tail. She was of a delicate 
 smoky fawn-colour, deep-chested, goggle-eyed, 
 and greedy beyond all power of words to 
 express. 
 
 She entertained a never-dying hatred of all
 
 1 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 other animals, apparently labouring under the 
 belief that no other member of the brute crea- 
 tion, save herself, had a right to exist, and was 
 supposed to look upon all the fields and all 
 the meadows as things created solely to sup- 
 ply her with a few succulent blades of grass, 
 when she should feel disposed to take a mild 
 corrective. 
 
 On the present occasion Chloe's propensities 
 came near to being her undoing, for, as she 
 was swallowing a bit of bread-and-butter with 
 a crusty angle, in hot haste to be ready for 
 the next windfall, it stuck cross-wise in her 
 throat, and she choked horribly. 
 
 " Really, Aunt Cynthia," said Willie Pierre- 
 point, lifting his bright face from his paper, 
 and looking indignantly at Chloe, now 
 recovering from her convulsive efforts, "the 
 greediness of that dog of yours is disgusting." 
 
 Aunt Cynthia, or, to give her her full title, 
 Miss Cynthia Pierrepoint, looked up calmly 
 from her knitting. Aunt Cynthia did every- 
 thing calmly ; nothing ruffled her — least of all 
 Chloe's choking over her food, an event that
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 1 1 
 
 happened so often, that anyone who had taken 
 it to heart would have been worn out in less 
 than a week. 
 
 " If Chloe's appetites are strong," said Aunt 
 Cynthia, speaking in a low, soft, somewhat 
 drawling voice, " so are her affections. T do 
 not know a more loving dog." 
 
 Chloe, evidently taking in the drift of the 
 conversation, looked as loving as possible, 
 staggered painfully on her hind legs to the 
 side of an elderly man who lay back in a 
 lounge-chair within the arch of the wide bay- 
 window, and shoved her black muzzle up 
 against his arm. Her bulgy eyes, meanwhile, 
 looked reproachfully across at Master Will, as 
 who should say : 
 
 " Do I look like a dog who has no thought 
 for anything save what she can get to put in 
 her stomach ? Aren't you ashamed of yourself 
 to traduce me so ? Did you ever see a more 
 loving animal, or one of a more sensitive 
 disposition ? " 
 
 As to Aunt Cynthia, her knitting still rested 
 on the table, and from underneath the graceful
 
 12 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 sweep of her bauds of snow-white hair her 
 quiet, restful eyes gazed at Chloe as those 
 of a fond mother might gaze at a cherished 
 child. 
 
 " Sweet little darling ! " she murmured com- 
 placently, and then click, click ! the busy pins 
 were off again, and the white wool passed 
 swiftly through fingers as white as itself. 
 
 Perhaps it was as well that the good lady's 
 attention was too absorbed in the mysteries of 
 knit two, carry one, and so on, to note the 
 comical glance of Master Will's blue eyes, that 
 looked for an answering smile from the worn, 
 weary face of the sick man in the lounging- 
 chair. 
 
 For sick he was — a stranger would have 
 added, "nigh unto death"; but those who 
 loved him- — and who that knew him loved him 
 not? — were, it may be mercifully, blinded to 
 the fact that for Anthony Pierrepoint, Major- 
 General in Her Majesty's service, the last roll- 
 call of all was about to sound. 
 
 The gaunt figure — soldierly still for all its 
 stooping gait — the sunken eyes, the hollow
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 13 
 
 temples, and the hurried breathing, all told 
 the tale that loving eyes refused to read. 
 When Aunt Cynthia said to people that 
 her brother was going to travel "for his 
 health/' to try the gentle air of Madeira 
 " for a time,''' when she said that the " doc- 
 tors hoped so much from the climate," and 
 that in the spring there would be a happy 
 home-coming, people hesitated a moment, 
 almost gasped, and then, having got themselves 
 well in hand, murmured politely how " nice " 
 it was, and how " pleasant," and how cheer- 
 ing it must be to have such an opinion " from 
 one of the first men in London too." 
 
 Behind the poor lady's back very different 
 comments were uttered. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " cried an impatient 
 old warrior, a one time comrade of the Gene- 
 ral's ; " can't the woman see the man's 
 dying ? " 
 
 " No, my dear," replied his common-sense 
 wife, " and a very good tiling too. If she saw 
 as we see, she would lose all heart." 
 
 What of the sick man himself? Did he see
 
 14 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 as others saw, or with the gentle eyes of his 
 sister Cynthia ? 
 
 He saw the truth, and faced the enemy of 
 the nations as he had faced the Sepoy bayonets 
 and the Russian guns in a day that was long 
 past, fearlessly, without heat and without 
 tremor. 
 
 He did not strive to tear off the bandage 
 that love had bound over the eyes of those 
 who loved and tended him ; he did not grudge 
 them the hope that was but a fair delusion. 
 He knew all the truth and kept silence, rejoic- 
 ing exceedingly in the love they bore him, 
 thinking of and for each one of them, and 
 smiling a sudden, sweet, far-off smile when 
 they spoke of the time when he should be 
 "quite well and strong again," and all the old 
 home-life should enter upon a new lease of 
 existence. For they were bound upon a long- 
 journey, this family circle to whom the reader 
 is but just introduced, going on that saddest 
 quest, the search after health in a distant 
 land. 
 
 They were an oddly related family, these
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 15 
 
 Pierrepoints of Ellersleigh ; a " scrappy " 
 family in their relations to each other, as 
 the sharp young lady of the neighbourhood 
 cleverly put it. 
 
 Brother and sister, the son of a younger 
 brother, the daughter of a younger sister, both 
 by a strange stroke of fate orphaned when too 
 young to know the meaning of the word — 
 these, with Chloe as a fifth, formed the family 
 party at Ellersleigh : scrappy, if you will, 
 but happy as it is given to few households, 
 however closely linked, to be. 
 
 In three weeks' time three of the community 
 were to start for the Island of Flowers, and 
 the fair riverside home was to be left to 
 solitude, servants, and — Chloe. 
 
 This last point bad not been carried without 
 some disputation, for Aunt Cynthia deprived 
 of her pet companion was ever conscious 
 of a blank in life ; but William Dennis 
 Pierrepoint, the bright-eyed young fellow of 
 twenty, who could " coax the heart out of a 
 stone," as Mrs Dulcimer, the housekeeper, was 
 wont to put it, had succeeded in persuading
 
 10 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Chloe's mistress that Chloe should remain 
 behind and guard the house from possible 
 burglars. 
 
 " The little animal is so intelligent, you see, 
 Aunt Cynthia," said Will, with the smile of a 
 diplomatist. "She will understand the situa- 
 tion at once, and sleep with one eye open, and 
 her tail curled ready for battle." 
 
 Aunt Cynthia looked over her spectacles at 
 Chloe, with wheezy breath and uncurled tail, 
 sleeping off her last heavy meal in preparation 
 for another, and yielded. 
 
 " Ah, but it's Master William has the tongue 
 of the serpent and the wisdom of the dove ! " 
 said Mrs Dulcimer subsequently, meaning to 
 natter her young master, yet hardly hitting the 
 ri^ht nail on the head. So it was settled that 
 Chloe was not to go to Madeira. 
 
 That left a party of three : Aunt Cynthia, 
 Will, and— though last, not least, since the 
 journey was to be undertaken on his account 
 alone — the General. 
 
 Does the beauty of the world appeal with a 
 special power and pathos to those who are cod-
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 17 
 
 scious that their eyes must soon close upoD it 
 for ever ? 
 
 One would have thought so, to see the grave 
 sweetness with which Anthony Pierrepoint 
 was watching the gleam of the sunshine on 
 river and tree, and the gentle swaying of 
 branches, that were ruddy or golden just here 
 and there near the tips, as though a painter 
 had touched them with a brush fresh from 
 " putting in " a sunset. 
 
 There lay the stretch of green sward sloping 
 down to the river Thames, that twinkled 
 through the boles of the trees upon its banks. 
 Their branches, touching the ripples with 
 shadow-fingers as they passed, swayed gently 
 in the sunshine ; and, below, the boat that had 
 been Will's birthday gift from Aunt Cynthia 
 bobbed lazily up and clown like a duck asleep 
 upon the water. 
 
 Against the glow of the evening sky swallows 
 floated, dipped, and twirled, shrieking in shrill 
 concert as they fell. The time was come 
 when, gathered in fluttering, restless groups, 
 they would answer to the summons of the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 sun, and follow him to warmer climes. With 
 spring they would return, chatter beneath the 
 eaves, and fill the air with their shrill and 
 plaintive cries. 
 
 But might not one traveller follow the sun- 
 shine, and return no more when the summer 
 came again ? 
 
 " Where is Kate ? " said the General, turn- 
 ing from the window that framed so fair a 
 landscape, and looking to his sister Cynthia 
 for an answer. 
 
 But Will's ready tongue made reply : 
 
 "Upstairs, I expect, in her 'den/ poring 
 over Byles and Blackstone, qualifying to be 
 the wife of a Q.C. that is to be." 
 
 " Striving to fit herself to be her husband's 
 companion in all things ; to enter into his life 
 and work. A noble ideal— a noble ideal!" 
 said the General, lifting and dropping the 
 hand that lay upon the arm of his chair to 
 emphasize his words. 
 
 " All Kate's ideals are noble ones," said Will, 
 with a flash in his eyes. " John Granger is a 
 lucky fellow."
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 19 
 
 " And I'm sure no one can rejoice with him 
 more heartily than I do," said Aunt Cynthia, 
 putting down her knitting, and taking out her 
 pocket-handkerchief. " But still, I must say I 
 can't imagine what this place will be like 
 without her— when we come back, I mean. 
 You, Anthony, will miss her most of all. She 
 has hardly been an hour away from your side 
 — has she ? — ever since you gave up going to 
 the club, and took to staying at home so much ? 
 And I will say that, for reading aloud, she has 
 the pleasantest voice. While you and she have 
 been going through Mr Browning's poems, 
 brother, it has often soothed me into quite a 
 doze. I do assure you it has." 
 
 " We need no assuring on that point ; we 
 are quite convinced, clear Cynthia," said the 
 General, with a gentle irony ail unrecognised 
 by the good lady to whom it was addressed. 
 
 " It sounds so strange, brother," said Miss 
 Cynthia, with an aggrieved air, " to hear you 
 talk of Kate — our own Kate — being married." 
 
 " Well, my dear, you see " began the 
 
 General.
 
 20 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 But the dear lady would not argue. 
 
 " I know — I know," she said. " You are 
 quite right ; you always are, Anthony ; but 
 yet it seems to set it out all so plainly, as it 
 were, to make it so real, and I'm sure I cannot 
 bear to think what will be the blank to all of 
 us, and to you more especially, brother — I 
 mean her being gone when we are settled down 
 at home again after our wanderings. It will 
 be like being without sunshine, and you will 
 miss her most of all. I must try and take her 
 place as reader to you, dear, but I am not a 
 good reader. I am always ready to acknow- 
 ledge that. I lose my place in the line, and 
 have to go back two or three words to find it 
 again, and that, you know, destroys the flow 
 — especially of poetry. But I can try, dear, 
 and you will be very patient with me, I know." 
 
 There was a tender light in General Pierre- 
 point's bright, sunken eyes, and in his smile as 
 he turned to her ; but Will's face was grave as 
 he heard Aunt Cynthia speak of the home- 
 coming that to her simple mind seemed so sure 
 a thing. The boy had a clearer intuition than
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 2 L 
 
 the rest as to how things were with Uncle 
 Anthony. 
 
 "Dear, dear! how you are coughing," said 
 Miss Cynthia, as the sick man's gaunt frame 
 was shaken as a blighted tree by the storm. 
 " That comes of a chillness in the air to-day. 
 I have been sensible of it myself; indeed, I 
 sneezed twice before lunch. You must have 
 taken a little extra cold, Anthony." 
 
 Chloe, whose affections were assuredly, as 
 Miss Cynthia said, on a par with her appetite, 
 seeing that something was wrong, stood on end 
 to lick the worn hand that now hung down in 
 all the helplessness of exhaustion, and on which 
 the knuckles stood out significantly prominent, 
 while Miss Cynthia looked at Will, as who 
 should say : "I defy anyone to say it is any- 
 thing more than a little extra cold." 
 
 Oh, the wilful blindness of love, the tender 
 obstinacy that will not see ! What sight, in all 
 this world of ours, is more piteous or more 
 beautiful % 
 
 A reluctance to speak of his own ailments or 
 sufferings was always noticeable in Anthony
 
 22 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Pierrepoint. It was as though, seeing his 
 sister's determined blindness to the inevitable, 
 he was set upon helping her to shroud her eyes 
 from the things that frightened her gentle soul 
 to look upon. 
 
 He fondled Chloe's ball of a head, as it 
 bobbed up and down at his side with restless 
 persistency, and with a determined effort to 
 recover breath went back to the subject of 
 Kate. 
 
 " She was always terribly in earnest even 
 from a little lass, was Kate — Bonnie Kate. 
 Do you remember, Cynthia, when she was a 
 wee, toddling thing, how she cried because 
 Mason the gardener had pulled the hats off 
 the eschscholtzia blossoms, and she fancied the 
 gnomes would be sad when they came to look 
 for their little brown-peaked caps, and could 
 not find them V 
 
 "That I do," said Aunt Cynthia; "and 
 how she called out that the tall kitchen clock 
 was dead, and couldn't speak any more, and 
 then, when we went to look, you had forgotten 
 to wind it up, brother. I must say," continued
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 23 
 
 Aunt Cynthia, looking hesitatingly round at 
 Will, "that your dear uncle very seldom 
 forgets anything, but on that one occasion — 
 one very rare occasion — he did forget, and the 
 
 dear child was the first to discover Dear, 
 
 dear ! " said Aunt Cynthia, agaiu looking help- 
 lessly round, " how strange it seems to think 
 of Kate — our own Kate — being married only 
 five days from now!" 
 
 "Beginning life in earnest," put in Will — 
 " really in earnest ! " 
 
 " Kate has always been in earnest," said the 
 General. " She has become a woman now, aud 
 put away childish things ; but the same tune 
 rings on through all the years, the same in- 
 tensity colours all she says and does. She will 
 always take life hard, will Kate — always suffer 
 more keenly than others. She does not believe 
 now in the gnomes and their little brown caps, 
 nor look upon the tall clock as a living thing ; 
 but it will be the same with her in the greater 
 as in the lesser things of life ; intensify — in- 
 tensify — intensify — that is what she will 
 always do. John Granger has undertaken a
 
 24 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 great responsibility, for Kate will be bard to 
 live up to — bard to guard from ber own 
 nature." 
 
 Aunt Cyntbia looked sorely troubled, and 
 not a little puzzled. 
 
 "I do not know, brother, what lias come 
 over you. I don't— I really don't think you 
 can be as well as usual this evening ; perhaps 
 a mist is rising from the river." 
 
 "There is no mist before my eyes," said the 
 General, a solemn look upon his worn and 
 noble face. "I see clearly enough. I look on 
 into the future, and I see my darling's path 
 begirt with trials and difficulties, yet I am not 
 afraid for her. I know she will never lose 
 sight of the light that shineth from above ; I 
 know in whom she hath believed ; I know that 
 if she has been dowered with a perilous nature, 
 yet shall God guide and guard her, as He 
 guides and guards us all if we trust Him." 
 
 Wills face was hidden by his hand ; you 
 could see the beautifully cut mouth, with its 
 golden shade upon the upper lip, tremble like 
 a woman's.
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 2o 
 
 As for Aunt Cynthia, she gave up trying to 
 understand anything. Anthony was rather 
 " low " to-day, and must be humoured. It 
 almost seemed as though he were speaking 
 unkindly of Kate — but that could not be ; that 
 must be just a foolish old woman's fancy. 
 Anthony was so clever ; it was not to be ex- 
 pected that one could always follow his train 
 of thought. Only a very clever man like 
 himself could be expected to do that. The one 
 thing sure was that he must be humoured. 
 He must be roused from his low fit. It was 
 foolish of Will to sit there with his hand over 
 his face as if he were crying. That only made 
 matters worse, and they were bad enough 
 already ; indeed, she (Miss Cynthia) would 
 have to mention the strange way in which the 
 General had been talking (she only hoped it 
 was not wandering) to Dr Adamson the very 
 next morning. 
 
 Meanwhile, she — Cynthia Pierrepoint — felt 
 called upon to make an effort — to rise to the 
 occasion, as it were, and set a good example 
 to Will.
 
 26 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 She let Chloe drop from her knee with scant 
 ceremony, to the unbounded amazement of 
 that favourite of fortune, drew her white shawl 
 gracefully about her shoulders, and, crossing 
 the room with the languid grace for which she 
 had been celebrated from a girl, seated herself 
 at the piano and struck a few harmonised 
 chords. 
 
 The General's hand began to rise and fall on 
 the arm of his chair, to the rhythm of the 
 music, at which Miss Cynthia nodded, well 
 pleased ; and, proud of the success of her 
 subtle doings, she began to sing in a clear sweet 
 voice, worn as was natural, yet not without a 
 plaintive melodiousness of its own. 
 
 Her song, like her voice, was of an old 
 fashion, yet had in it the sweetness of dry rose- 
 leaves and lavender. 
 
 " Knell of departed years, 
 Thy voice is sweet to me, 
 It wakes no sad forebjding fear.*, 
 Calls forth no sympathetic teais, 
 Time's restless course to see ; 
 From hallowed ground 
 I hear the sound, 
 Diffusing through the air a holy calm around.
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 27 
 
 " Thou art the voice of Love, 
 To chide each doubt away, 
 And as the murmur faintly dies, 
 Visions of past enjoyments rise 
 In long and bright array : 
 I hail the sign 
 That love divine 
 Will o'er my future path in cloudless mercy shine. 
 
 " Thou art the voice of hope, 
 The music of the spheres, 
 A song of blessings yet to come, 
 A herald from my future home " 
 
 And then she opened the door and came in 
 amongst them, a bright and beautiful presence, 
 Bonnie Kate — my Kate — the heroine of this 
 my story. 
 
 " Are you singing good wishes for me, dear 
 Aunt Cynthia ? " she said, passing her arm 
 about the white-shawled shoulders, and kissing 
 the soft old cheek of the singer. " How I love 
 all your old songs, even, ' A little cock sparrow 
 he sat on a tree,' that you used to sing to me 
 ' between the lights ' when I was a wee thing ; 
 and how I shall think of them all when I — 
 when you " 
 
 In a moment, with a soft rush, she had flung
 
 28 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 herself on her knees beside her uncle, and was 
 clinging about him with fond arms. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " how good you have all 
 been to me ! How good ! How good ! " 
 
 And the tears fell from her bright eyes like 
 rain. 
 
 Chloe abased herself in a corner of Miss 
 Cynthia's gown, conscious that some family 
 crisis had arrived, and knowing no better way 
 of displaying her sympathy. Miss Cynthia's 
 song had been cut in two, and nothing could 
 piece it again, to say nothing of the singer's 
 voice being choked in tears ; while Will bent 
 anxiously over the General, fearful of what the 
 effect of such agitation might be. 
 
 But over the sick man seemed a strange 
 calmness ; he folded Kate close in his arms, 
 and kissed the sweet brow with its frame of 
 sunny ripples — kissed it long and tenderly. 
 
 "My darling," he said, "if all our good 
 wishes for you come true, there will not be 
 a happier woman in England than John 
 Granger's wife — our own Bonnie Kate." 
 
 And Chloe, seeing a smile here and there,
 
 A FAMILY PARTY. 29 
 
 took heart of grace, and clambered up on to 
 the General's knee. 
 
 " Chloe ! Chloe ! " cried Kate, clasping the 
 little dog close, and kissing the round, black, 
 wrinkled head. "I shall think of you too, 
 never fear, many a time and oft." 
 
 " It is not likely that any one who had ever 
 known Chloe would forget her," said Miss 
 Cynthia, with calm assurance.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 
 
 Autumn had begun to touch the world with 
 light and tender hand, putting in here and 
 there a mellow shade so ripe and beautiful 
 that it seemed rather the sign-manual of rich- 
 ness and completeness than the first herald of 
 death and decay. The country, spreading out 
 like a panorama on this side arid on that, held 
 a sunshine of its own, so brightly showed these 
 vivid patches of colour — a sunshine that no 
 cloud could obscure or take away. Here was 
 a branch russet-red, there a rose-briar in the 
 hedge a streak of glowing crimson, now a 
 bough just tipped with yellow-ochre, now a 
 whole brake aflame with shades of amber and 
 ruby. 
 
 Faint lines of pale orange-pink showed across 
 the western horizon, and through these dainty
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 31 
 
 bars the sinking sun looked forth upon the 
 fair bejewelled world. A river lay dark and 
 still in the near foreground, each separate 
 pollard upon its banks, with its clear reflec- 
 tion sleeping at its feet, a perfect duplicate. 
 Then came a pool, flag-fringed, set in the 
 bosom of a meadow, its quiet water all rosy 
 with the reflected light from above ; upon its 
 margin a slender, solitary tree, that bent 
 lovingly above it as one loving might watch 
 the loved one sleeping. A windmill, with its 
 long arms slowly whirling, swept the grass 
 with infinite shadows, its head set in a fire, as 
 the sunset glowed behind it. Then came long, 
 seemiugly interminable seas of soft green up- 
 lands, rolling on and on like billows of verdure, 
 fold on fold, their rounded crests gieamiug 
 emerald-like in the level sun-rays, their wide 
 expanse broken here and there by groups of 
 larch or dark belts of fir ; but yet their con- 
 tinuity unbroken for mile after mile, and 
 stretch upon stretch. 
 
 All these fair and varied aspects of Nature, 
 all these swiftly-changing landscapes had been
 
 32 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 watched by sweet, observant eyes as the train 
 for the north sped on its way, for Bonnie Kate 
 was on her travels now, with a plain gold ring 
 on the third finger of her soft white hand, and 
 seated opposite to her was her husband, John 
 Granger, barrister- at-law, the man for whom 
 she had groped among the lore of Byles and 
 Blackstone, and for whose dear sake she had 
 even " forsaken all others," and vowed to 
 " keep only to him so long as they both should 
 live." 
 
 Kate had a rapt, serious look, and in her 
 eyes was the shining of a new joy, still so new 
 as to hold some troubled sweetness in its 
 depths. It seemed to her as if into the last 
 fortnight of her life had been compressed more 
 than all the experiences that lay in all the 
 years behind — more joy, more longing, more 
 sadness too ; for did not the pain of parting 
 from Uncle Anthony, Aunt Cynthia, and Will 
 hang over the content of that fair marriage- 
 day that had made her John's clear wife for 
 good and all ? 
 
 The memories of last looks, last words,
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 33 
 
 lingering touches, even of Chloe's wriggling 
 herself in among the guests at the wedding- 
 breakfast and curling herself up under the 
 table in the folds of Kate's cream-satin skirts, 
 by no means to the advantage of the same ; 
 the memory of Will's dear, bright face, all 
 blurred with fond, unwilling tears, which he 
 strove to hide by holding hard on to Grippe, the 
 wire-haired terrier, who lived in the yard because 
 he was " unkind " to Chloe — Grippe, a born 
 hunter, and for ever in trouble over chickens, or 
 young ducks, or such small deer, and somehow 
 a guest among the rest on the occasion of the 
 " going away," barking madly at the bride- 
 groom, whom some subtle instinct taught him 
 to recognise as a thief. Kate always had a 
 kind word for Grippe, choking at the end of 
 his chain in his anxiety to accompany anyone 
 or no one upon a ramble in the woods, or by 
 the river, where sleek water-rats were to be 
 found. And maybe the rough-bearded creature 
 knew he was being defrauded of a friend. 
 How she and John had talked over every 
 
 detail of that all-important day, and yet how 
 vol. i. c
 
 34 BOXNIE KATE. 
 
 fresh it all seemed as her memory dwelt upon 
 it even now ! In looking back upon that dear 
 home life so lately parted with, how vivid was 
 each spot of colouring in the picture fondly 
 dwelt upon ! The bright river seen through 
 the vista of the trees ; the boat, with its nose 
 among the flags and the buttercups ; the 
 General's tall figure, still held so upright by 
 sheer force of will, and in spite of weakness 
 and pain, pacing up and down the velvet lawn, 
 with Aunt Cynthia chattering by his side ; and 
 Cliloe stealing stealthily into the side bushes, 
 with the unsuspecting lady's ball of white 
 knitting -wool held in her distended jaws. 
 These, and such slight fancies, would come 
 before her mind's eye, seeming so real, and yet 
 so far away as to prove what a shadowy thing 
 is time, after all. 
 
 Most solemn of all these memories was that 
 of the General's adieu to the girl who had been 
 to him as the very apple of his eye. Had not 
 Kate, clinging to his breast — the breast that 
 had ever been her shelter — looked up through 
 blinding tears to the face that bent above her,
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 35 
 
 and seen the eyes raised to heaven, the pallid 
 lips moving, and caught the words : " Into 
 Thy hands I commend her. Guide her, teach 
 her, comfort her — oh, my God ! " Had not 
 that murmured prayer been to her as a bene- 
 diction — a solemn commendation ? When Aunt 
 Cynthia came hurriedly along, out of herself, as 
 it were, with excitement and much weeping, 
 and cried : " Oh, my dear General, they will 
 miss the train — they will, indeed ! " the inter- 
 ruption had been as a hand that suddenly rent 
 some beautiful thing asunder. There was a 
 sudden closer pressure of the arms that held 
 her, and then she was among the eagerly wait- 
 ing throng ; and in another moment she was 
 seated in the carriage beside her husband, not, 
 however, before she had given one long look 
 back, and seen the tall form towering above 
 the others — seen the hand raised in a supreme 
 gesture of farewell. It was hard — hard to 
 leave them all, and yet not too hard a thing to 
 do for John's sake. 
 
 Could anything be too hard for that ? Well, 
 time and life would show. Certainly, as she
 
 36 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 sped along northward, across the soft, undulat- 
 ing plains of green sward that lie beyond the 
 fair city of York, Kate would have told you 
 that no trial could be too great for the " love 
 that loves alway " — the love that filled her 
 heart and life even to overflowing. 
 
 The happy " half of a honeymoon " — for 
 Mr Granger could only take a short holiday 
 from work even on such an important occasion 
 as his marriage — had passed like a summer's 
 day, spent, as it was, in the island that inspired 
 Keats to write that immortal line, " A thing 
 of beauty is a joy for ever." And, truly, that 
 quiet time of mutual companionship and love 
 would always be a precious memory — a gar- 
 nered "joy for ever" to Kate. As she had 
 learnt more and more of her husband's 
 thoughts and ambitions, the greater, so she 
 imagined, grew her precious store of knowledge 
 how to adapt herself to him ; how best to 
 become all that the one word " helpmeet " 
 meant in her devoted creed. For the love in 
 this girl-wife's heart was of the kind that per- 
 vades the whole life, and fills the world of
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 37 
 
 the mind with the one beloved. It may be 
 questioned, indeed, if Kate had ever asked 
 herself : " Will John Granger make me a 
 happy woman ? " Eather had she asked her- 
 self with passionate insistency : " Shall I make 
 John a happy man ? " 
 
 I am aware that love of this peculiar nature 
 is rare, but it is possible, and is, of all other, 
 the love that suffers most — that must suffer 
 from its very essence. I am also aware that it 
 may be somewhat out of rule to begin the 
 story of a woman's life after her wedding-day, 
 yet methinks the deepest, truest life- dramas 
 are played after, and not before, the magic 
 ring is on, and the heart has donned its willing 
 fetters. 
 
 " These long stretches of green are the 
 Wolds you have often told me of, are they 
 not, John ? " said Kate, and John Granger, 
 who was looking over a bundle of papers, 
 looked up to meet his wife's sunny, smiling eyes. 
 
 Let us sketch him. It is a good opportunity 
 with the mellow sunlight falling full upon his 
 handsome face. Very handsome had women
 
 38 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 thought that face, some one or more to their 
 own undoing, for John had never been an 
 impressionable man, and was ever slow to 
 realise that a woman's fancy may outstrip 
 reality and bask in the sunshine of a fool's 
 paradise. I do not say the man had not had 
 his fancies, even his loves. The young bar- 
 rister had a broad, square brow, lambent eyes, 
 and hair short and dark, crisply curled, too 
 nice altogether to be gradually thinned by the 
 wearing of the official wig. The lower part of 
 his face was concealed by a pointed beard 
 bronze in tint and growing picturesquely. 
 Doubtless, had John Granger been clean-shaved 
 the general impression his appearance con- 
 veyed would have been a different one. One 
 would have recognised the fact that here was 
 a man of great sensitiveness, much tenderness, 
 but with a strain of weakness marring an 
 otherwise fine character. As it was, the whole 
 effect was charming. The square shoulders, 
 the lithe, manly figure carried well the finely- 
 balanced head ; the well-cut profile made a 
 side view of the man pleasant ; and something
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 39 
 
 pathetic in the curve of the brows, and the 
 clear, shining eyes, awoke a strong interest 
 even at first sight : as indeed had been the 
 case with Bonnie Kate. 
 
 By a quaint mistake she had, on the occasion 
 of their first meeting, supposed Mr Granger 
 to be a married man. He had talked to 
 her and she to him, and the thought had 
 crossed her mind that the woman who 
 owned him was one of the lucky ones of 
 the earth. She did not exactly wish, per- 
 haps, that " heaven had made her (Katherine 
 Ward Sinclair) such a man," but doubtless 
 the half- formed idea lurked somewhere ; at 
 all events, it quickly enough took form and 
 semblance when, on further acquaintance, the 
 young barrister — John was thirty, but at that 
 age a man is supposed to be a very baby of a 
 barrister — proved to be free and unfettered, 
 and sought her society on every possible and 
 impossible occasion. It was a clear case of 
 love at first sight, this romance of John 
 Granger's, nor was he by any means a placid 
 and easily contented lover. He had no fancy
 
 40 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 to do without Kate a day longer than he could 
 help, and twisted Aunt Cynthia round his little 
 finger as easily as though she had been a skein 
 of her own knitting-wool. 
 
 So the wedding came off, as we have seen, 
 before the General and his party set off to 
 Madeira on that weary quest called " the 
 pursuit of health." (Alas ! how often a quarry 
 that is never overtaken !) 
 
 The happy bride and bridegroom had spent 
 a hajDpy solitude a deux in lovely Shanklin, 
 and now, in acquiescence with a very strongly 
 expressed wish on the part of John's "people," 
 were journeying northwards, across that green 
 undulating sea, the Wolds of Yorkshire. 
 
 Just at first the idea of their journey had been 
 uu pleasing to Kate. She clung to that abso- 
 lute and entire possession of her husband that- 
 had made life a new thing for her. She longed 
 to pursue at her own sweet and uninterrupted 
 will the lesson that w T as to be her guide in the 
 future : to acquire that close knowledge of his 
 mind and heart that was to enable her to 
 make his life a perfect dream of content, when
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 4 1 
 
 the time came that they two should mingle in 
 the world again. 
 
 Yet there was a great joy underlying the 
 thought of the change too. She should see the 
 house that had been John's from boyhood ; she 
 should see and learn to love his "people." I 
 doubt much if a man ever fully understands this 
 particular phase of a woman's love, the divine 
 curiosity that will saturate her heart through 
 and through to know those who have loved 
 him, and whom he had loved, before she herself 
 ever knew him. 
 
 I say " divine curiosity," because it is a 
 feeling far remote from the spirit of prying. 
 It holds a sacred longing to know somewhat 
 of those years that lie behind the happy 
 chance that brought him across her own path- 
 way ; the years in which he lived, and loved, 
 perchance suffered too, and she knew it not. 
 For a deep, true, passionate love has hands to 
 stretch backwards as well as forwards ; back- 
 wards to lay trembling, eager fingers on the 
 child, the boy, the man that are all one — the 
 one, the only one to her ; and forwards in a
 
 42 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 tender yearning to shield, to comfort, to 
 " have and to hold," in all the " changes and 
 chances of this mortal life," that the future, 
 so dim and uncertain, may yet bring. 
 
 " These are the Yorkshire Wolds, then," 
 said Kate again, not in the least resenting, as 
 a lesser woman might have done, the slight 
 pre-occupation in John's face as he looked up 
 from the business papers on his knee — papers 
 that had been sent after him by his clerk, and 
 meant work, and plenty of it, when he should 
 get back to London, and to that snug little 
 home in West Kensington that was all ready 
 prepared for the coming of its dainty mistress. 
 
 " Yes, those are the Wolds ; and I never 
 saw them looking fairer. They have put on 
 their best dress to welcome you, Kate." 
 
 " How the very sight of them makes one 
 think of the Brontes ! I expect Charlotte 
 walked about them when she was thinking 
 out ' Jane Eyre,' and poor Emily watched 
 them when the storm was driving across 
 them, and so was driven to write ' Withering 
 Heights.' I always fancy she must have had
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 43 
 
 to write that book ; that it must have gone on 
 acting and acting itself over and over again in 
 her mind, until it was a relief to write it all 
 down on paper." 
 
 " The Wolds near which the Brontes lived 
 are wilder and less green than these," said 
 John. " I will take you there some day." 
 
 This last sentence was spoken with the 
 smiling, radiant glance that told her how 
 sweet it was to him to say : 
 
 " I will take you here, there, where I will. 
 You are mine to take anywhere." 
 
 Kate's face said plainly enough in answer : 
 
 " Whither thou goest I will go." And in 
 her heart she finished the quotation : " Thy 
 people shall be my people." 
 
 She drew a letter from her dainty little 
 handbag. 
 
 " It is Aunt Libbie — is it not ? — who writes 
 to you ? That is short for Elizabeth, I sup- 
 pose. Those quaint home-names are in some 
 families, I know. I remember the Anstruthers 
 had always a Dorothy, called Dolly. ' Lady 
 Dolly' was quite an institution among them.
 
 4 4 BOXNEE KATE. 
 
 I daresay there has always been a ' Libbie ' 
 amongst you, generation after generation." 
 Then, still poring over the pages of Aunt 
 Libbie's letter : " This one is a bit of a charac- 
 ter, isn't she, John ? ' I hope you won't cross 
 Brother, in the matter of this home-coming. 
 When he sets his mind on a thing, he's apt to 
 get a bit t-e-t-c-h-e-y ' (What a droll word ! ), 
 'and he's set on seeing this London lady of yours, 
 and showing her off at church and market.' ' 
 
 Kate's merry, silvery laugh rang out. 
 
 " Oh, John," she said, " Aunt Libbie is by 
 way of being a droll. I long to see her. So 
 I'm a ' London lady ' am I ? Well, Richmond 
 — dear old Richmond ! — is London in a way, 
 and I suppose ' church and market ' stand for 
 some family joke that I am not yet up in." 
 
 John, who was busy with the window-strap, 
 that had got entangled somehow, made no 
 direct reply, and Kate, looking dreamily at 
 the passing landscape, let her thoughts fly to 
 the dear riverside home once more. She saw 
 it all — the long, sloping garden, the glinting 
 river seen through the trees, and the splash of
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 45 
 
 the oars as Will brought the boat up to the 
 bank. 
 
 Strange things these " mind photographs ; " 
 more intensely real and accurate in every 
 detail than the best camera can produce. 
 
 Kate could almost hear the rippling gurgle 
 of the water among the flags and the loose- 
 strife, as she thought of the old home that had 
 already taken up its place in the background 
 of her life, so vivid was the foreground that 
 had dwarfed, but never could hide it. John 
 was the next to break the silence, and there 
 was a shadow of some troubled thought upon 
 his brow as he spoke : 
 
 " I should never have brought you north at 
 all, Kate, if you hadn't been so furiously set 
 upon it yourself." 
 
 She moved across to his side. 
 
 " Was it so very unnatural I should be set 
 upon it, dear ? You are so much, so dear to 
 me, that everything about you, anyone belong- 
 ing to you, must be dear to me too. I want 
 to be able to piece together something of the 
 long, empty years when I did not know you,
 
 46 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 and I have not learnt much of them yet, you 
 must remember — certainly not by letter, for this 
 dear, droll Aunt Libbie is the only one who 
 has ever written at all. I have sometimes 
 fancied — oh, John — that they may have 
 thought our marriage too rash, too sudden ? " 
 
 " My darling ! " he said, tenderly, as he 
 kissed the tears from the sweet, troubled eyes 
 raised in pretty deprecation to his, " as if I 
 were likely to be a day without you that I 
 could help." 
 
 " Yes, I know," she answered, still with a 
 sob in her throat. " And when we had only 
 known each other a week it seemed as though 
 we had known each other for years and years. 
 One was quite deceived as it were — was not 
 one ? " 
 
 " Quite. I have often wondered how I ever 
 got through the days before I knew there was 
 such a person as Bonnie Kate in the world." 
 
 "You like Uncle Anthony's name for me, 
 then ? " 
 
 " I think it suits you down to the ground. 
 You will always be Bonnie Kate to me. I
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 47 
 
 shall never forget the first time I heard the 
 General call you so." 
 
 " Dear Uncle Anthony," said Kate, the ready 
 tears starting again. " How beautiful it will be 
 to have him home again quite well and strong, 
 j ust like he used to be ! What happy days 
 we shall have going up to Richmond ! Aunt 
 Cynthia said .... John, you are not 
 listening to me." 
 
 For John was staring out of the window, 
 intently watching the sunset that grew ever 
 more and more gorgeous and rich tinted. 
 
 " Yes, I am, dear," he answered, turning 
 towards her ; " yes, I am." 
 
 " Well, don't speak as if you were sorry for 
 sumfin', as Walt Whitman says Robin sings. 
 I am talking of happy things you know, not 
 sad ones. You heard what Lady Darrell said 
 to me the other day ? You must have done, 
 for you were standing close, I remember. I 
 mean about her brother-in-law. He was 
 ever so much more ill than Uncle Anthony, 
 and he went to Madeira, just as uncle is doing, 
 and came back quite well. People could
 
 48 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 hardly believe he had ever been ill at all. 
 Nothing could be more encouraging for us, 
 could it ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 Still John spoke without looking at her; 
 but she did not notice it this time, being too 
 much carried away by her own earnestness. 
 
 " Lady Darrell said the change of climate 
 acted ' like magic/ and what happened in the 
 case of one person is most likely to happen in 
 the case of another person, is it not ? " 
 
 " Assuredly." 
 
 " John, *you are what Mrs Dulcimer calls 
 rather short this afternoon ; you answer in 
 monosyllables, lazy boy that you are ! You 
 must have caught it from Will. He answered 
 Lady Darrell just in the same way — as if he 
 didn't care a bit about what she was saying — 
 he, who can be such a chatterbox when he likes." 
 
 "My dear," said John, "I always care to 
 listen to what you say. You could never say 
 anything I should not care to listen to." 
 
 ''Don't be rash," laughed Kate, with a charm- 
 ing air of coquetry. " These are early days."
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 49 
 
 " I am not afraid," lie said, confidently. 
 
 " Well, then, listen to me now. Tell me 
 more of these people whom I shall see so soon, 
 for we are not far from our journey's end, are 
 we, John % " 
 
 "Not very," he answered, taking a long, 
 deep breath as he spoke ; " but I am willing to 
 make good use of the time, and tell you all I 
 can. Not that there is much more to say than 
 I have said a dozen times already. They are 
 plain and simple people ; they will make you 
 very welcome in their own way " 
 
 " But tell me what they are like. Is Aunt 
 Libbie (how pat I have her name !) anything 
 like Aunt Cynthia — to look at, I mean ? " 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 " Could you describe her ? " 
 
 " It would be difficult, Kate. I am not a 
 good limner in words." 
 
 "She is eccentric ? " 
 
 " Yes, but her heart is more tender than 
 either her looks or her manner. She has 
 been the head of the house ever since my 
 poor mother " 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " I know. I can see it all. When your 
 mother's health gave way, this Aunt Libbie did 
 her best to fill her place — to all of you. 1 
 love her already — not, of course, as I shall love 
 your mother. I have never known a mother 
 of my own, and all the love is ready for yours, 
 John. I shall spend hours in that quiet room 
 of hers that you have told me of. I can fancy 
 it with soft white curtains, and flowers daintily 
 arranged — fresh every day — with the scent of 
 lavender everywhere, and a white, patient 
 face with your eyes, John (I am sure she has 
 just such dark-grey limpid eyes, dear), on the 
 pillow. Then your father — I have fancied 
 him too — tall and white-haired, with a look of 
 you in the shape of the head. And the girls 
 — twins, are they not ? Leah and Bachel, such 
 quaint, old-world names ! By the way, have 
 they been presented yet ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, I can present them, you know. 
 John," this after a little pause, " I wish you 
 had seen me in my court-dress ; it was the 
 prettiest thing "
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 51 
 
 " So were you, I doubt not/' 
 
 " Uncle Anthony thought so. I hardly 
 cared what anybody else thought." 
 
 " I can believe that ; you are not at all a 
 vain woman, Kate." 
 
 " Oh yes, I am, desperately, in my own way. 
 If I love a person, I like them to think me en- 
 tirely charming. It is because I am going to 
 love all these people of yours very dearly that 
 I want to look my best while I am with them, 
 and have brought my prettiest dresses. What 
 a pity it was your sisters could not come to 
 our wedding ! How disappointed I was when 
 you told me about it ! If they had come I 
 should have known them, you see, and not 
 have felt so strange at Low Cross." 
 
 " They lead such a quiet life " 
 
 " On account of your mother. yes, I 
 understand that, and your father never leaves 
 home for the same reason. I suppose," with a 
 roguish smile, " you would not have liked Aunt 
 Libbie to have come ? " 
 
 " Good heavens — no ! " said John, with a 
 
 aSm*^" 08
 
 52 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 great start — with a shudder too, though Kate 
 did not know it. 
 
 " She would have worn some eccentric 
 costume ? " 
 
 " There can be no doubt of that." 
 
 " Said out-of-the-way things ? " 
 
 " Very much so." 
 
 " dear, what a great deal we have 
 missed ! " 
 
 " We have indeed." 
 
 " Well now, tell me about your brother. 
 He is younger than anyone ? " 
 
 " A. great deal 'younger, and " 
 
 " Yes, I know," put in Kate, hurriedly ; " he 
 is different to other people." 
 
 Her hand stole into her husband's. She 
 drew closer to his side. 
 
 "That just describes it, Kate. No one 
 would call Humbie a cripple, but yet he is 
 not like other people. Kate, my dear, I hope 
 you will care for my brother. In years he 
 is but sixteen, but in thought, and heart, and 
 mind he is older than any of us. I don't know 
 what mother would do without Humbie."
 
 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD. 53 
 
 " I shall love him so that you will be quite 
 jealous ; see if I don't. I love him already 
 from what you have told me of him. His full 
 name is Humboldt, is it not ? Is that another 
 family name ? " 
 
 " No ; but it suits the boy, it seems made 
 for him. He is just Humbie ; he could be 
 nothing else." 
 
 The green undulating meadowlands were 
 passed ; rugged rocks showed here and there ; 
 steep hillsides sheltered villages, each like a 
 group of chickens gathered round the mother- 
 hen, for red-roofed cottages clustered round a 
 church, either with spire or square, squat 
 tower, and seemed to nestle in its shadow. 
 
 On the outskirts of these were scattered 
 farmsteads, each with brave show of stacks and 
 close-shaven fields, from which the golden grain 
 was nearly garnered in ; with cattle wading in 
 clear brooks, and sheep nibbling the short 
 sweet herbage, and raising their meek heads to 
 look at the train as it passed. They had 
 reached the rich, wide farmlands of Yorkshire. 
 
 " Low Cross — Low Cross ! " said Kate, half
 
 54 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 to herself ; " when shall we see it ? It is a 
 quaint name, like the rest. Tell me, why was 
 it called so ? Is there a cross, broad and low, 
 golden-green with lichen, in the courtyard or 
 the avenue ? Or perhaps there has been a 
 private chapel once ? " 
 
 " No, no, no," he said, in a sort of restrained 
 frenzy. " Kate, do not think of my people as 
 other than they are ; they are plain, unpre- 
 tending, simple folks." 
 
 A nervous flutter was stealing over Kate ; 
 the train was slackening speed ; she did not 
 notice her husband's strange mariner. 
 
 " It does not matter what they are," she 
 said, catching her breath short as she spoke ; 
 " they are yours ; and, oh, John ! do you 
 think they will like me ? They must be so 
 proud of you, clear ; they must think no one 
 good enough for you." 
 
 " Like you," he said, flinging his arm about 
 her shoulders, and crushing her to him with a 
 passion of tenderness. " My darling, who could 
 help liking you ? / could not ! "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 
 
 The little station of Wiffle showed signs of a 
 mild excitement. It was such a very insig- 
 nificant station that a great excitement might 
 have carried it away altogether. Often but 
 one solitary passenger would be discharged as 
 the train waited a couple of minutes or so ; 
 sometimes only a dog, occasionally nothing but 
 a basket ; only very few trains stopped there 
 at all, so that the porter had an easy time of 
 it, and the station-master plenty of leisure to 
 cultivate his garden, which he did so success- 
 fully that you would have thought sometimes 
 a flower-show was being held on the line, and 
 the train had stopped to give the passengers 
 time to have a good look at it. 
 
 However, on the evening of which we are 
 now writing, as has been said before, signs of a 
 languid interest were visibly at Wiffle station,
 
 56 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 The porter kept dusting the sleeves of his 
 black fustian jacket with his hand, as though 
 he were resolved to show himself presently to 
 the greatest possible advantage. The station- 
 master, in a new coat, stood at attention before 
 his wonderful display of single dahlias, as who 
 should say : " I defy anyone to find fault 
 either with me or my flower garden." The 
 station dog, a mongrel of an ardent and 
 enquiring turn of mind, ran up and down, 
 giving short, sharp barks of agitated curiosity, 
 and now and again sniffing at the heels of 
 a sort of handy-man, half coachman, half 
 gardener — anything you please, in fact — who, 
 possessed by the spirit of an overpowering self- 
 importance, carried himself as one entitled to 
 have " high ways," and bestowed quite a con- 
 descending nod upon the station-master and 
 his dahlias, being apparently not in the least 
 impressed by either. 
 
 A puff of white smoke among the far-off 
 trees, a whirr of distant, wheels, another puff, 
 nearer at hand this time, and the whirr coming 
 closer every moment.
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 57 
 
 The evening train had arrived, and everyone 
 on the station stared his hardest at young Mrs 
 Granger as, preceded by her husband, she 
 stepped out upon the platform that was all 
 ablaze with the last ruddy sheen of the sun 
 bidding good-night to the world in a royal 
 burst of splendour. In that lovely radiance 
 the station-master's dahlias looked like glorified 
 flowers, and every casement in his little, squat 
 toy-house a square of opal. The bells of a 
 tiny church hard by were ringing, just three of 
 them, falling over one another, and tripping 
 one another up most musically, making, 
 indeed, the most of themselves, and setting up 
 quite a merry jangle. There had been a 
 wedding that morning at Wiffle, so someone 
 else's wedding bells welcomed Bonnie Kate 
 home. 
 
 The handy-man rushed up to John, touched 
 his hat, and made himself mightily busy about 
 the luggage, yet kept looking round the corner 
 of his eye at Kate, who stood, tall and slim, 
 her simple grey dress and hat glorified like the 
 dahlias, opposite the station-master's house.
 
 58 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 On her sweet face was a strange look of 
 bewilderment ; the delicate colour in her cheek 
 had faded somewhat, and if you had laid your 
 hand above her heart you might have felt it 
 beating more heavily than was well. John, 
 too, was pale and grave, and his voice sounded 
 strained, as he said to the nondescript man : 
 
 " All well at home, Matthew ? " 
 
 " Yes, Maister John," replied that function- 
 ary ; " they be all foine up whoam, save the 
 mistress, who's a bit poorly." 
 
 Mrs Granger, of Low Cross, had been what 
 is called in that part of the world "laid by" 
 for nigh upon sixteen years, but old Matthew 
 always spoke as if her indisposition were a 
 passing and casual matter, deeming it more 
 dignified — or, as he said " becoming " — to 
 keep up a certain reserve as to family matters 
 in the Granger family, there being, in his 
 estimation, no other family to speak of in 
 Yorkshire or out of it. 
 
 Meanwhile Kate, struggling against a feeling 
 that all her new and unlooked-for surroundings 
 were but part and parcel of a dream, from
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 59 
 
 which she should presently wake, kept good 
 command over herself, and said a few courteous 
 words to the station-master as to the beauty of 
 his flower-garden. 
 
 Red as one of his own dahlias with gratified 
 pride, he told the lady all in grey how that his 
 wife was not so strong as she might be, and 
 how it pleased her to look through the windows 
 and see the posies blowing, adding that no 
 station-master's garden for miles up the line, 
 and down the line, could boast such a show as 
 his. 
 
 Here John came to her side — John as she 
 had never yet seen or known him — pale, grave, 
 with a dull, pained look in the eyes usually so 
 clear and shining, with a quiver about his 
 mouth that even tawny moustache and beard 
 could not hide. 
 
 " Come, Kate," he said ; " everything is 
 ready." 
 
 The station-master watched the pair across 
 the platform and through the door that had 
 "Way Out" painted above it in gigantic 
 letters — a futile precaution, since no other way
 
 60 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 of any kind existed ; then he turned to his 
 wife, who had come creeping out into the 
 sunlight, and said, with many nods and shakes 
 of the head : 
 
 "If I'd just wed yon bonnie lady, I'd never 
 show such a sorry face over it as t' young 
 maister there — not I ! Eh, but she's properly 
 sweet-spoken, that is she, and as dainty a bit 
 as one o' these posies here !" 
 
 He flipped a pearl-white dahlia lightly with 
 his hand, and went into his square house, 
 leaving his wife and the porter to exchange 
 glances of admiration at the master's way of 
 putting things. 
 
 " Such talk ! " said the porter. " Why, it's 
 as good as readin' to hear till it, and full of 
 great truth too, missus, for he had a sorry 
 look had Maister Granger, and no mistake. 
 Matthew he told me the wedded folk were 
 a-coming by this train, an' I dusted mysel' up 
 a bit, and set my cap a trifle on one side to 
 give me a jaunty look ; bo' I doan't think they 
 took ony note on it, not they, and he had a 
 sorry look ! "
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 61 
 
 Maybe the speaker would have still more 
 emphatically called John Granger's look a 
 " sorry " one could he have seen his face as he 
 drove along by Kate's side in a vehicle known 
 by the term " gig," with Matthew Goldstraw on 
 a high seat in front, much incommoded by the 
 most necessary of the luggage appertaining to 
 the pair. Commonplace and conventional re- 
 marks upon the verdure of the lanes through 
 which they passed, the picturesque beauty of 
 the hills that girt them round on every side, 
 their ridges ablaze with gorse and yellow 
 broom ; but no converse of a more intimate 
 nature, no allusion to the meeting with John's 
 people now so near at hand. 
 
 Matthew's remarkable attire drew Kate's 
 attention in spite of herself, and beginning to 
 feel by this time conscious of a strain upon her 
 nerves, she had some ado to keep from a half- 
 hysterical laugh. Assuredly the old family 
 servitor (for in her mind was no doubt that 
 such was his position and office) had hit upon 
 most incongruous garments in which to go and 
 meet his young master and his bride. His
 
 G2 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 hat was banded with crape, so deep that it 
 projected above the shallow crown. His neck 
 was encircled by a scarf combining all the 
 prismatic hues of the rainbow. He ended in 
 leggings, and boasted a pair of dogskin gloves 
 several sizes too big for him, and of which he 
 was evidently abnormally conscious. Accus- 
 tomed to the plain yet perfect style of the 
 Pierrepoint liveries, and the luxury of Aunt 
 Cynthia's victoria, the conveyance in which 
 Kate now found herself, together with its 
 charioteer, struck her as wondrous strange 
 indeed, but she would not permit herself to 
 show the faintest sign of amaze. To look at 
 her you might have thought she had ridden 
 in a gig all her life. The animal that drew 
 the said gig left no room for fault-finding, and 
 Matthew was evidently prepared for some 
 commendation of her points. 
 
 "The mare is in good condition, I see/' said 
 John, as they turned round a corner and 
 entered upon a narrow lane whose hedges were 
 just great tangles of ragwort, fruiting hops, 
 and honeysuckle.
 
 i^MOKG SIMPLE FOLK. 63 
 
 " Yiss, Maister John," replied Matthew, with 
 an air of unbounded pride ; " her be's as keen 
 as ever ; her be's the keenest mare i' these 
 parts, I reckon. T maister he woan't have 
 her worked on t' farm, not he. He keps her 
 fer t' days when he goes t' the market towns 
 to sell grain. He makes t' other maisters sit 
 up, that does he, when he shows her off in 
 front o' the inns where he puts up. He bean't 
 ashamed of her at church nor market, as the 
 say in' goes in these parts, and he's in the right 
 on it too, for she's a keen mare and no mistake. 
 Why, she takes the hills like a burred, and 
 never a shy out of her — 'cept whiles and again 
 — at an ironstone pit, no matter how yaller it 
 is, nor how deep it yawns alongside of her. 
 There beant' her ekal, Maister John, all the 
 countryside. Fo]ks 'ull turn to look at her, 
 that will they, and ' that's Farmer Granger's 
 mare o' Low Cross, that is,' .they'll say, 
 a-nudging one another loike so many school- 
 boys gapin' at a dumpling. I trust, sir, as 
 your good lady here thinks well o' t' mare ? " 
 This with an anxious look round at Kate.
 
 64 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Maister John's good lady " had a very 
 white face, and her lips were no longer looking 
 ripe and red, as was their wont, but they 
 smiled at the garrulous old man, and assured 
 him of her admiration of the keen mare. 
 
 The sun had sunk behind the fir-trees on 
 ahead ; the garish, ruddy light was gone. 
 Above, a pale moon-face looked through the 
 blue, and a lark, rising from some furrowed 
 land hard b} T , hung high in heaven, quivering 
 with the ecstasy of his song. Now and again 
 a flock of wide- winged swifts dropped from 
 the sky, over which a faint grey mist was 
 stealing, falling with shrill cries towards earth ; 
 then, rising, wheeled once more aloft, and so 
 away. 
 
 Was that weird cry echoed in a beating 
 human heart ? Did that tearful moon-face look 
 down pityingly through the veil of the growing 
 twilight upon the sufferings of a passionate, 
 undisciplined woman, brought face to face 
 with the first real trial of her hitherto bright 
 young life ? 
 
 It is in such moments of sudden pain that
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 65 
 
 Nature speaks to our hearts most closely. 
 Which of us has not listened to Kobin's plain- 
 tive evensong, and recognised in it the voice 
 of our own sadness, or read, in the lilt of the 
 thrush in springtime, the longing of our own 
 heart for one that is set far from us ? The 
 sough and the sigh of the sea seems the sob 
 that we dare not utter ; the moan of the wind 
 in the branches gives a voice to the passionate 
 cry that is stifled within us. 
 
 For years and years to come Kate never 
 heard the shrill cry of the shrike in the 
 stillness of evening that she did not call 
 to mind that fateful drive from the little 
 station of Wiffle to the gate of Low Cross 
 Farm. 
 
 For that was its real name, and there it 
 faced her in its broad, substantial comfort, its 
 homely wealth of sufficiency, its red-tiled gables 
 and roofs, its wide casement windows wreathed 
 with jasmine and old-fashioned climbing roses ; 
 its garden, with London Pride edging the 
 pathways, and round white cobbles paving 
 them, with two tall box-trees, one on either 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 bb BONNIE KATE. 
 
 side the white gate, each cut into the semblance 
 of a gigantic mushroom on a mighty stem. 
 
 Eich rows of corn-stacks stretched on one 
 side the house, like Brobdingnagian bee- 
 hives, each sheltered from storm and tempest 
 under a roof of its own, a roof propped up on 
 slender fir-poles. The mellow lowing of cattle 
 came from a range of sheds beyond, and, laid 
 all along on the wall of the straw-yard, a pea- 
 cock, his green-gold tail drooping behind him 
 more graceful than any lady's court-train, was 
 taking his last observation of the world before 
 going to roost in the cedar-tree. Over the 
 door of the house was a porch weighted with a 
 cowl of clustering honeysuckle. The house 
 itself was white, intersected by massive black 
 beams, and all round, running between the 
 upper and lower windows, was an inscription 
 in old English letters : " God's Providence is 
 My Inheritance." Did that old-world message 
 — that brave and trustful assertion of the 
 right that is every man's — the right to the love 
 and tender care of the Great Father of all — 
 did those noble words hold any comfort for
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 67 
 
 the tossed and troubled soul of the woman 
 whose heavy eyes were raised to them ? Did 
 they remind her that no one could wrest from 
 her that "inheritance" which is most ours 
 when most man fails us — when, amidst what 
 is mutable and unstable, we most lono; for a 
 stay that is immutable and that fadeth not 
 away \ 
 
 Not yet — not' yet ! 
 
 Bitterness — wounded pride — a sense of trust 
 outraged, and confidence betrayed — all these 
 ran riot in Kate's hot, ungoverned heart : there 
 was no place for comfort — yet. 
 
 The door of Low Cross Farm stood widely 
 open ; and there, under the shadow of the 
 honeysuckle and eglantine, stood three female 
 figures ; one upright, rigid, determined ; the 
 other two shrinking back and leaning towards 
 each other, as though for mutual protection in 
 a crisis — Aunt Libbie and the twin girls Leah 
 and Eachel. 
 
 At the gate stood a stalwart, sturdy man of 
 middle age, with a look of John about the 
 head, but of John broadened and coarsened,
 
 68 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 and with shrewd, dark eyes and ruddy cheek. 
 Dressed in leggings, mighty hob-nailed boots, 
 and dark-ribbed fustian coat, Thomas Granger, 
 farmer, was a notable figure, one of a class of 
 whom England has every right to be proud — 
 a class above all pretension, and, taken as 
 a class, pure-lived, honest, and fair in dealing, 
 healthy in body and mind from living so much 
 in the open air. 
 
 " Glad to see you, John," said Mr Granger, 
 in a loud, cheery voice when the gig was still 
 a considerable distance off. " Glad to see 
 you," he said again, almost shaking his son's 
 hand off when they had reached the gate and 
 John had sprung to the ground. 
 
 Kate was quickly handed down and shaken 
 by the hand, too ; but mine host of Low Cross 
 had a shy look now, and his voice was a bit 
 husky as he said : 
 
 "Wish you joy " and oh! could Kate 
 
 be mistaken, or did he really finish his sen- 
 tence, when repeated, thus : (( Wish you joy — 
 mum I 
 
 She saw John, bending over a portmanteau,
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 69 
 
 flush dark red to the roots of his hair. Then 
 she knew that she had heard aright. 
 
 Well, well ; a little more or a little less, 
 what did it matter now \ 
 
 With all the deep turmoil of spirit under- 
 neath, what did such a mere ripple on the 
 surface count for \ 
 
 The jolly farmer soon recovered his self- 
 possession, disturbed momentarily by the deli- 
 cate vision of Kate in her dainty grey . dress 
 and drooping grey ostrich plumes. 
 
 "Libbie," he cried, showing the new-comer 
 the way in, "here's John's wife — bid her 
 welcome, my lass." 
 
 A tall, straight, angular figure, clad in a 
 sort of steel-coloured garment that fell in 
 straight, shining folds, came forward at this on 
 to the doorstep, stretched forth a hard, un- 
 sympathetic hand, first to Kate and then to 
 John, and said : 
 
 " I bid you welcome, Nephew John. And 
 so this is your wife. I hope she'll no find us 
 over plain and simple to be quite to her mind. 
 It's well you've come up north, for brother had
 
 70 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 set his mind on't something terrible. I reckon 
 he'd have been greatly crossed if you'd set my 
 letter aside." 
 
 "Well, Aunt Libbie, you see we didn't set 
 your letter aside," said John, trying hard to be 
 himself once more, yet hardly letting his eyes 
 meet his wife's sad, questioning gaze. 
 
 Aunt Libbie was of spare build, wiry and 
 active. Her hair was twisted into a most 
 lamentably tight, hard knob at the top of her 
 head, and skewered through with one strong 
 hairpin, worn white at the top end with ser- 
 vice. She wore an apron with a bib, that held 
 a little pence-pocket, and a bunch of keys 
 hung from the girdle of her gown. She had 
 grey eyes, alert and observant, needing no 
 glasses to aid them, and lips that seemed to 
 part unwillingly when she smiled. 
 
 "And I asked John if she was like Aunt 
 Cynthia to look at!" thought Kate, as she took a 
 rapid mental inventory of these characteristics. 
 
 Mr Granger himself seemed to feel a certain 
 uneasiness in the general atmosphere, and 
 looked sharply at his sister.
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 71 
 
 " What matter, Libbie, how I might ha' 
 been crossed, since I'm not crossed 1 You're 
 always too full of words, my girl, and setting- 
 folks by the hair o' their heads. Bless us all!" 
 he continued, giving his stalwart thigh a sound- 
 ing slap, "here be the two lassies all agog to 
 see the fine Lunnon lady as their brother 
 John's brought whoam wi' him." 
 
 Two tall, fresh-looking girls, with freckled 
 faces and warm-tinted hair done up in great 
 bunches behind, but breaking out into all sorts 
 of little curls and twirls about their shy, rosy 
 faces, came forward and shook hands with 
 Kate, evidently glad when the ceremony was 
 over. As to the " fine Lunnon lady," she was 
 looking at them with a look of fear and bitter 
 trouble in her beautiful brown eyes, with a 
 tremble about her lips, with brows knitted in a 
 little pucker of puzzlement, with all the sweet 
 red colour gone from cheek and lip. Her 
 heart felt like some chalice into which drops 
 •of bitterness were falling so fast, that soon the 
 cruel flood must overflow the brim. 
 
 As for Leah and Rachel, they fell baek into
 
 7 '2 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 the shadow of the great oaken presses that 
 lined one side of the house-place with oak 
 black with age, and shining like a mirror — and 
 then Kachel pinched Leah, and whispered in 
 her hear : 
 
 " She's bonnie to look at, anyway, though 
 Miss Sweetapple 's ever so much spryer, and 
 wears a finer hat." 
 
 To which Leah, gentler and less sharp than 
 the younger sister, answered not without pathos 
 in her tone : 
 
 " I reckon she'll never care to see the little 
 black kittens, nor the white calfy, neither." 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunt Libbie, with the air of one 
 who leads a forlorn hope, had marched up the 
 steep oaken stairs to show Kate into all the 
 glories of the guest-chamber. 
 
 It was a pretty, wholesome chamber in very 
 truth : low in the roof, with broad beams cross- 
 ing it, and almost resting on the high bed, 
 with its carved head and posts, and dimity 
 curtains. The windows were wide and low, and 
 touched the eaves, so that the twittering of 
 the swallows seemed as close as though the
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 73 
 
 little busy things were part and parcel of the 
 family inside. Flowers thrust their sweet 
 faces in at these casements whenever they got 
 the chance by a pane being set back in the 
 stanchions, and all sweet country scents came 
 floating in, notably that of lavender, sweet 
 lavender that even the homespun towels smelt 
 of as you buried your face in their shining 
 folds. 
 
 Each of the two windows boasted a wide, low 
 window seat cushioned in crimson, tempting 
 lounges to nestle in, in company with a 
 favourite author — in which to read Shelley's 
 Skylark or Shakespeare's sonnets. But not 
 a book was to be seen, save a brown -covered 
 Bible and prayer-book set neatly atop of one 
 another on the oak drawers, and not a flower 
 was anywhere, save those that peeped in at the 
 window. 
 
 "The meal wont be long, as it's ready," 
 said Aunt Libbie, whisking away an imaginary 
 speck of dust from the bevelled-edged mirror 
 on the dressing-table, " so we'd best leave Mrs 
 John to smarten up a bit."
 
 74 hONNIE KATE. 
 
 This was addressed to the twins, who had 
 squeezed themselves in through the smallest 
 possible space of open door, and were indulg- 
 ing in fond but futile hopes that Mrs Johu 
 might open a good-sized flattish box that had 
 been hauled upstairs by a red-cheeked, red- 
 handed Phyllis, assisted by old Matthew. 
 
 " Happen she's got something a bit brighter - 
 coloured in that," said Rachel, secretly regard- 
 ing the bride's pale-grey gown with much dis- 
 favour. Leah assented, but only in a half- 
 hearted sort of way, adding, with a sigh signi- 
 ficant of much : " I think she's real bonnie as 
 she be " 
 
 Just as Aunt Libbie was leaving the room, 
 driving, so to speak, the twins before her, Kate 
 stopped her, laying a soft, detaining hand 
 upon the tight, uncompromising steel-coloured 
 sleeve, with the white turned-up cuffs that 
 looked as if they were made of white crockery- 
 ware. 
 
 " Where is Humbie ? " she said. 
 
 It was strange how all her aching heart 
 turned to the thought of Humbie, the boy who
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 75 
 
 was " not like other folk." It was strange how 
 madly she felt ready to stretch out her hands 
 to this unknown brother, who was now hers as 
 well as John's. Of the old Richmond house 
 by the river, of the General, of Aunt Cynthia, 
 of dear, bright, laughing Will, she did not 
 dare to think ; did not dare to let her mind 
 rest a moment on them. There are mo- 
 ments in life when to think of those who 
 love us, and whom we love, is weakness, not 
 strength ; look back we dare not, look forward 
 we must. 
 
 It was so with Kate now ; she let herself 
 be led by a blind and unreasoning instinct. 
 So she said : 
 
 " Where is Humbie ? " 
 
 There was the faintest possible toss of the 
 bob at the top of Aunt Libbie's head. 
 
 " Humbie was taken with the shies ; he is 
 now and again. Happen John's told you the 
 lad isn't like other folk ! " 
 
 " I know — I know," said Kate, and not all 
 the hard amaze in Miss Libbie's face could 
 strangle a little sob that cut the words in two ;
 
 / b BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " but that could make no difference to me. I 
 shall only love him the more — only love him 
 the more." 
 
 It seemed as though her knees gave way 
 under her. She sank upon the window seat, 
 her hands wrung one in the other. Miss 
 Libbie stared — as, indeed, was only natural ; 
 and there is every reason to suppose she was 
 firmly of opinion that her nephew John had 
 brought some poor hysterical idiot into the 
 sacred circle of Low Cross Farm ; nor can it 
 be doubted that a certain persistent prejudice 
 against Kate dated from that unfortunate 
 moment. 
 
 " Humbie is there — out in the meadow with 
 John," said Miss Libbie, this time with a very 
 decided toss of the head, " he's making a fool 
 of the boy as usual." 
 
 Kate craned forward to the open window. 
 
 There below, walking up and down the 
 meadow, as the mown green expanse that 
 flanked that side of the house was called, were 
 John and a boy about sixteen or so, slender 
 and misshapen. John had his arm on the
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 77 
 
 other's bowed shoulder, and was speaking to 
 him earnestly; but, as Kate appeared at the 
 window, both brothers looked up. 
 
 John smiled, but it was a smile that died 
 even in its birth. Humbie, looking upwards, 
 showed to Kate's eager gaze a face of wondrous 
 and refined beauty, too large in outline for the 
 dwarfed height and thickened back that sup- 
 ported it, but with such clear shining eyes, 
 such a sad, tender smile, that, as John said : 
 " Kate, this is Humbie. He was shy, and hid 
 himself away from us, but I have brought him 
 out," all her heart warmed to the boy, and she 
 leaned farther out among the tangle of roses 
 and jasmine, and both John and Humbie 
 thought there was no fairer flower among them 
 all than she. ^ 
 
 Another pair of eyes looked up at Kate 
 among the greenery besides the brothers', eyes 
 of a golden liquid brown, each spotted above 
 with a tawny stain — the wonderful, intel- 
 ligent, speakiug eyes of a noble spaniel- 
 retriever, black above, tawny below, with 
 feathered legs and tail, and such a silky coat
 
 78 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 that it felt like floss silk beneath your 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, what a lovely dog ! " said Kate. 
 
 " His name is Jack. He is glad to see you, 
 I am sure," said Humbie ; "he is trying his 
 best to say so." 
 
 Jack shoved his nose into his master's hand, 
 and swept his grand tail from side to side. 
 
 The timbre of Humbie's voice, his mode of 
 speech — these things differed as light from 
 darkness from the rest of the farm household. 
 Kate felt that he stood upon an equal social 
 plane with John — that he would understand, 
 help, sympathise — that she was already less 
 alone. 
 
 Jack whined, lifting his " four-eyed " face 
 towards the window. 
 
 " He wants you to come down," said 
 Humbie, smiling. 
 
 So Kate went, not smartened up one bit, to 
 the desperate disappointment of Kachel, who 
 nudged Leah and made that simple maid turn 
 as red as the cherry -coloured ribbon about her 
 neck.
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 79 
 
 As the three paced slowly together over the 
 sweet cropped grass of the meadow, Humbie's 
 mind grew full of wonder. Were all newly- 
 married people so subdued, so constrained 
 towards each other as these ? Was it a mark 
 of the condition, as of a new garment in which 
 one is ill at ease ? Why did John look so 
 strange, and Kate so sad ? Surely no queen 
 could be more stately or more beautiful than 
 this peerless lady, stepping so daintily, with 
 her pale sheeny dress brushing the short grass, 
 while dear old Jack lifted his pathetic eyes to 
 her face, and silently, dog-fashion, entreated 
 her to take him at once into her heart as a 
 loving and faithful vassal ? 
 
 And yet John seemed ill at ease, and Kate's 
 fair, white hand hung listless at her side, 
 instead of being clasped in his. 
 
 Humbie had just been reading " Ivanhoe," 
 and it seemed to him that here was a living, 
 breathing Rowena who had stepped into his life, 
 and shown him that romance might be a reality. 
 
 But was not the " ladies good knighte " 
 somewhat in surly mood ?
 
 80 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Whatever mood anybody was in, Miss Libbie 
 quickly summoned them to the " evening 
 meal," as she termed it, a summons that Jack 
 obeyed with the rest, just giving his pink 
 tongue a turn round his muzzle, and showing 
 a gleam of ivory teeth, in anticipation of good 
 things to come, but trotting back at the last 
 to be sure that his new friend Kate was coming 
 with the rest. 
 
 In winter time it was the custom at the 
 farm to have tea in the vast kitchen, with its 
 walls glinting with the shimmer of every 
 utensil that could be made to shine, its sub- 
 stantial table of massive grey-brown oak, and 
 its great cooking-place, with the " reckon/' or 
 crane, in its midst, hanging from stout crooks 
 that could well bear any possible strain, and 
 rendered an important item in household gear 
 by a superstition, still reverenced in many a 
 Yorkshire homestead, that if the reckon swing 
 empty the angels will weep and sorrow come 
 to the home. 
 
 As in many another case, this bit of folk- 
 lore covers a pretty thought. In olden times,
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 8 1 
 
 when there were no workhouses and no organ- 
 ised — ahem ! how often badly organised ! — 
 system of relief for them, the needy and the 
 weary went from door to door, as in dear, 
 faulty Ireland even now, and the broth in the 
 reckon was ready to hand. If the reckon 
 stood empty, then the poor wayfarer had no 
 dole, and so " the angels wept " for a charit- 
 able deed left undone. 
 
 Well, well, no fear of the angels or anyone 
 else weeping because the reckon at Low Cross 
 swung cold and empty. There it was, puffing 
 and bubbling over the bright wood fire to be 
 seen through the open door across the passage 
 that ran between the kitchen and the house- 
 place — a wide, low room into which you entered 
 direct from the hall down two shallow steps of 
 oak. Indeed, there was oak everywhere — oak 
 to drive a collector of such things mad, and 
 Mr Granger was much given to telling how a 
 gentleman from the great house — Steadly Hall, 
 of which, in winter time, when the boughs 
 were bare, you could just catch a glimpse 
 through the tre^s that backed the meadow— - 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 had offered him " a matter of fifty pound " for 
 one of the great presses that lined the side of 
 the entrance hall from floor to ceiling. In the 
 centre of the house-place, on a long table, was 
 spread forth such a repast as never before had 
 greeted the eyes of Bonnie Kate. Tea and 
 ale, apple-pie, preserved bilberries, cakes hot, 
 cakes cold, butter and honey, and, oh ! mar- 
 vellous innovation to southern eyes, cheese 
 white and new in close juxtaposition to plum- 
 loaf, with which it was eaten, and eggs piled 
 up like beer-barrels in a brewery yard. At the 
 head of this hospitable board, near the tea-tray 
 — which was a marvel of brilliant colour — sat 
 Miss Libbie, her black-mittened hands folded, 
 and looking grim enough to turn the big-bellied 
 white jugs of cream and milk as sour as so 
 much rennet. 
 
 " Ask a blessing, brother," she said, almost 
 before the family party was fairly seated. 
 
 She spoke in a tone of voice that might well 
 suggest much obstinacy and opposition on the 
 part of the master of the house in this matter 
 of "a blessing" — a crying injustice, since no
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 83 
 
 more godly and simple soul existed in the 
 four Ridings than Thomas Granger of Low 
 Cross. 
 
 Next she informed Kate that the daylight 
 " stayed " a good while these evenings, and it 
 was, therefore, possible to save in the matter 
 of candles, a remark that made her brother 
 glare over the rim of his teacup. When Miss 
 Libbie was in these humours he was apt to 
 say the wind was " set east, and nippin' at 
 that " — a fact he no doubt realised painfully 
 on the present occasion. 
 
 But he was in a mood to make the best of 
 things, and, quick to seize upon a pleasant 
 opening, jerked his thumb towards Kate, who 
 sat at the corner of the table, and against 
 whose lap Jack had laid his black and tawny 
 head, his feathered ears pricked up, and his 
 wistful eyes raised to her face. 
 
 "A good sign that — eh, John?" said Mr 
 Granger, with a broad, glad grin. " Dogs be 
 knowin critters, so they be ; I've ofttimes 
 thought as they can read the hearts o' folks 
 better than we."
 
 84 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Kate bent over the beautiful dog-face, pass- 
 ing her hand over and over the silk-soft ears, 
 but she could not see Jack's fond and grateful 
 looks for the mist that came between. 
 
 After this things went better ; Humbie told 
 of dogs that had been household gods at Low 
 Cross ; especially one fiend in canine form 
 who had had to be made what is called " an 
 apple-tree dog " — that is, hung by the neck 
 upon an apple-bough until he was dead, since 
 his weakness for young turkeys (of whom he 
 slew a dozen at one time) would yield to no 
 milder treatment. This gave Kate heart to 
 tell of Grippe (though she choked a little 
 when she began), and of his depredations in 
 the hen-roost, and the solitary life he led in 
 consequence. 
 
 But this social calm proved, like many 
 another, " too bright to last." Kate held out 
 her cup, and asked for another lump of sugar. 
 
 Miss Libbie drew up, and all the muscles in 
 her throat stood out like little strings. 
 
 She handed the sugar-basin to her guest 
 with an arm as straight as a rail.
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 85 
 
 " We Yorkshire folk are apt to be close- 
 neaved in such matters," she said, " and they 
 do say a sweet tooth's a wasteful tooth ; but 
 take what you will, being as you're one of 
 the family." 
 
 John writhed on his chair, as Kate, puzzled 
 and stung, looked first woncleringly at Miss 
 Libbie and then round at the rest, the lily of 
 her cheek, so pale before, turning to a rich red 
 rose. 
 
 The farmer breathed hard, and set his saucer 
 of tea down with a smack. 
 
 " Dang thy close - neaved ways, Libbie ! 
 Let's hear none o' that. Give the lass what 
 she's a mind to. John's wife can please her- 
 sel'. Doant you stint yoursel', Mrs John, but 
 tak' whatever you've a mind to. We like 
 folks to tak' their fill of victuals and lack 
 for nowt. Tak' no heed on her — tak' no heed 
 on her." 
 
 This episode naturally made things very 
 difficult, but Humbie threw himself into the 1 
 breach, and asked if Mrs John had yet seen 
 mother.
 
 86 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 "No," replied John promptly; "I ran up 
 to her for a moment, and she said she would 
 see Kate after tea. I hardly think mother 
 looks even as well as usual," he continued, 
 dreading a silence. 
 
 " A — h ! poor lass — poor lass ! " said the 
 farmer, with a slow shake of the head and a 
 mighty sigh. " It's a sorry business about 
 Susie." 
 
 Like Old Matthew, he always spoke of his 
 wife's helpless state as if it were a matter of 
 yesterday or last week at the furthest, though 
 for sixteen long years those once active feet 
 had never trod the stairs of the old house to 
 which he had brought her, a blithe and bonnie 
 bride. 
 
 " Go, Leah," he said presently, " and ask 
 mother if Mrs John shall come ben " 
 
 For the first time since their arrival at Low 
 Cross Kate directly addressed her husband : 
 
 "John, I should like to see your mother, 
 I hope she will let me go to her." 
 
 In a few moments Leah returned, not with- 
 out a certain look of awe upon her face.
 
 AMONG SIMPLE FOLK. 87 
 
 " John, mother says she'd like your wife to 
 go up to her now ; but she says she's to go 
 quite alone— no one's to go along with her — 
 not even you."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 
 
 It would be well for us to strive to enter into 
 the character and nature of this Bonnie Kate 
 whose story we are telling. By grasping it 
 fully we shall see as we go on how it came 
 about, all naturally enough, that she loved, 
 suffered, fell into bitter error, joyed, sorrowed, 
 sinned, and repented as she did ; for it is 
 sometimes the noblest-natured that go furthest 
 astray, the most loving souls that rush most 
 blindly on their own destruction. 
 
 From a child she had been remarkable for 
 the intensity of her feelings ; and in her deep- 
 set eyes those who had true intuitions to guide 
 them, read the wistfulness of a passionate soul 
 looking out at life and questioning its possi- 
 bilities. Hotly espousing the cause of the 
 weak against the strong, she would rush on
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 89 
 
 without thought, and with all the heat and 
 passion of ignorance, to a championship some- 
 times harmful, still oftener unwise. Trustful 
 to a fault where she loved, but apt to fall into 
 a great exposition of scorn where she detected 
 treachery ; absolutely without feminine curi- 
 osity about trifles or the affairs of those who 
 were indifferent to her, but pathetically curious 
 about all and everything — small things as well 
 as great — concerning those dear to her ; ready, 
 too, to defend such to the death against mis- 
 fortune, calumny, or pain, so long as she 
 believed them worthy of defence, and loyal as 
 she knew herself to be; but hardly yet schooled 
 enough in the discipline of life to know 
 that a woman, if she would rise to the highest 
 heights, must possess her soul in patience, and 
 love on in spite of the death of illusion, must 
 hold only the closer to it because some idol 
 she has reared upon an unreal pedestal comes 
 toppling from its height — these lessons Kate 
 had not learned at all, much less learnt by 
 heart. 
 
 Her life had been too sheltered, her will too
 
 90 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 much law to those about her ; and so this 
 bonnie flower of womanhood, this generous, 
 loving-hearted girl, had grown to be a wee bit 
 headstrong, passionately longing to be good and 
 true, but fully determined to be both things in 
 her own way, and in accordance with her own 
 standard — resolved, too, to exact the same 
 measure from those she took into her heart and 
 life. Well had General Pierrepoint, wise with 
 the keen insight into men and things that the 
 nearness of death ofttimes gives to the thought- 
 ful soul, said that Kate's was a dangerous 
 nature for any man to undertake to guide and 
 to satisfy. Gay and sprightly as she was by 
 nature, those about her saw a strange deepen- 
 ing of life and thought come over her as love 
 in its deepest sense touched, held, swayed her 
 to its mighty power. Her whole being was, 
 as it were, hushed as is the heart by the hear- 
 ing of sweet and solemn music. Beneath this 
 unwonted silence lay a sense of passionate joy. 
 It was not so much that she was glad to believe 
 herself beloved, to believe herself the soul and 
 completeness of John Granger's life, as that
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 91 
 
 she lived surrounded by an atmosphere of still 
 shining ; that she moved on day by day along 
 a pathway whereon the sun ever rested, and 
 where birds sang low, yet jubilant. 
 
 She smiled to herself sometimes to think 
 that John hardly understood how she loved 
 him, but that he would learn all about it better 
 and better year by year ; she even loved to 
 think of the trials and troubles that would be 
 sure to come, because then she would be able 
 to help, comfort, and sustain him, and by the 
 exquisite perfection of her sympathy make the 
 "rough places plain," and the " desert to 
 blossom as the rose." 
 
 When Miss Libbie's letter reached them in 
 their island retreat, and Kate developed such 
 an earnest longing to obey its summons, John 
 said : 
 
 "You will find it dull, dear. You are not 
 used to the dead life of a country place like ours." 
 
 But the wilful lass shook her gracious head, 
 and said : 
 
 " Nay, but it was her pleasure and her will 
 to go," and then, with a shyness born of the
 
 92 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 newness of her wifehood, could not go on to 
 tell him all her heart. " How little he thinks," 
 she pondered, smiling, and watching with 
 dreamy eyes the golden sunlight on the sea, 
 "that it will be happiness enough to me to 
 look about me and remind myself that here he 
 played when a boy, there he wandered when 
 the idea of life began to open before him ! 
 Then what delight to see those who loved him 
 and watched over him before I knew the world 
 held such a man, and to hear them tell of 
 droll things, and beautiful things he did and 
 said. I shall weary them out with questions." 
 
 These were Kate's day-dreams by the sea. 
 What the reality came to, we know. 
 
 And now we will return to her as she rose 
 to cross the house-place, her husband holding 
 the door open for her, and Jack, evidently in 
 no mind, to be parted from his new friend, 
 following in stately and assured style. 
 
 Miss Libbie sniffed audibly as Kate and her 
 attendant disappeared. Her whole active, use- 
 ful life was marred by the perpetual mental 
 attitude of considering herself slighted, and
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 93 
 
 now that Susan should wish to see Mrs John 
 alone seemed as the last straw to bear the 
 suffering camel down. After one glance at 
 his sister's face, the farmer got up, whistling 
 his favourite tune, " Garry Owen," and betook 
 himself to the shippens, there to harry the 
 various men who were looking after the soft- 
 eyed, dun- coloured Alderneys, and tossing the 
 straw for the night in each roomy stall. 
 
 "'T maister's oot o' soarts to-noight," said 
 one yokel to another, leaning in a contempla- 
 tive attitude on the handle of a pitchfork. 
 
 "Ay; I reckon t' mistress has been a-naggin' 
 at un," replied the other. 
 
 So it had come to this in the long years of 
 the house-mother's helpless pain. Miss Libbie 
 was the mistress to all the hands on the farm, 
 and ruled her kingdom, not exactly with a rod 
 of iron, but, as it were, with a switch not 
 unadorned with thorns. 
 
 Rachel had volunteered to be Kate's guide to 
 mother's room. She had a fancy for a nearer 
 view of the way that grey gown was cut at 
 the back, to discover what gave it that grace-
 
 94 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 ful fall and flow that seemed simplicity itself, 
 and yet (for Rachel was what is called a sharp 
 lass) her instinct told her would be hard to 
 copy in a thoroughly satisfactory manner. But 
 there was no need for any other guide than 
 Jack, who quickly constituted himself the 
 pioneer of the party, looking back every now 
 and then to be sure that Kate was following, 
 until at the end of a long passage, where more 
 oak presses and a couple of casements with 
 cushioned window seats had to be passed, he 
 shoved open a door with his soft nose, trotted 
 in, leaving it open as a hint that that was the 
 way, and so up to a white-curtained bed, upon 
 whose patchwork coverlet he laid his head 
 with a low whimper of pleasure ; such a sound 
 as a little child, too young to articulate, makes 
 at sight of something that attracts it. But for 
 once John Grangers mother had no eyes for 
 Jack — no eyes for anything or anyone save 
 John's wife, who, as Rachel shut the door, 
 came across the room, a little timidly, yet 
 with an eager brightness on her face. 
 
 Which of us cannot look back into our lives
 
 Otf HOLY GROOXD. 9 5 
 
 and recall that supreme moment in which 
 someone — man or woman — crossed our path- 
 way, never to part company with us again ? 
 All the surroundings of that meeting and that 
 greeting (commonplace, perhaps, in the ex- 
 treme) dwell in our memory for ever, taking 
 an almost humorous colouring as time goes on, 
 since the first faint notes of a melody that was 
 to grow, and thrill, and tremble to the very 
 core and heart of life, seem to have become 
 ludicrously inadequate, and we are half im- 
 patient with ourselves for not having recog- 
 nised them as something apart from all other, 
 even then. 
 
 Never in all her after life — in all its tossing 
 troubles, all its desolations, all its strayings 
 from the straight path, all its devious return- 
 ing to the clear shining that illumines us when 
 we walk where the light of heaven touches 
 the plains and hills of earth, did Kate forget 
 this, her first meeting with John Granger's 
 mother. 
 
 The faint stirring of the snowy dimity cur- 
 tains of the wide projecting casement, into
 
 96 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 which you mounted by a shallow step ; the 
 open pane set back, and the pink-faced roses 
 peeping in, looking pale and ghostly in the 
 fast-fading light ; the little table with a lamp, 
 whose subdued radiance fell upon the open 
 pages of a Bible, where some careless hand had 
 left a straggling spray of briony ; and there 
 beyond, more in the shadow, the pale, spiritual 
 face of a woman, worn and chiselled by the 
 hand of pain and isolation to the beautiful 
 likeness of a resignation perfect in its un- 
 questioning faith and simplicity. A close- 
 frilled cap, delicately goffered, and of a purity 
 as of driven snow, encircled this spirit-face, 
 showing up its worn outlines beneath the 
 still dark banded hair, and out of it, tender, 
 pathetic, questioning, looked John's eyes, — 
 brighter, deeper than his, but still the sweet 
 reflection of those very eyes that had looked 
 into hers long since, and compelled the love in 
 her heart to spring into life and fulness. — 
 They met Kate's with wistful longing, while a 
 hand, worn to match the face, was stretched 
 out for hers.
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 97 
 
 " Is this John's wife ? " said a gentle voice ; 
 and both look and voice were so pure and 
 tender that Kate felt as though she were in 
 some holy place, into which it would be a sin 
 and desecration to bring the unruly passions 
 and jealous doubts of the world outside. 
 
 For the moment — if only for that — the hurt 
 amaze of the day's revelations died out of her 
 heart. She was, for the time being, only a 
 woman who had but just ]earnt the full sweet- 
 ness of loving and being loved — only a woman, 
 seeing for the first time the mother who had 
 given life to the one beloved, who had tended 
 his childhood's days, who could tell her end- 
 less precious lore of that far-off time, who 
 could sympathise, as no other living creature 
 could, with the tenderness that had welled up 
 in her heart for him as a living fountain, 
 almost from the first hour of their meeting. 
 
 She sank upon her knees by the bed, clasp- 
 ing the gentle hand in both her own, and 
 laying it softly against her cheek. 
 
 " Yes," she said, with a little strangled sob 
 in her breath, "lam John's wife Kate, and I 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 am so glad — so glad that you have let me 
 come to you like this." 
 
 In the excitement and agitation of the 
 moment, Kate did not note a strange, startled 
 look of wonder, trouble, almost fear, that came 
 upon the sick woman's face, aud when she 
 looked up it had passed, leaving, however, an 
 added pallor on the thin cheek, a tremble 
 round the patient mouth. 
 
 " It's good of you to speak so kind ; we sick 
 folk think a lot o' kind words." 
 
 Seeing that Mrs Granger was agitated, Kate, 
 fearful of adding to her agitation, made no 
 reply save that of gently stroking the hand 
 still clasped in hers. 
 
 A little blackcap in a larch tree hard by the 
 open casement began to warble his evening 
 song ; the curtains stirred, gently swaying in 
 the breeze that had begun to buffet the flowers 
 and make the pale roses nod their heads ; and 
 Jack, who was gravely watching the frivolous 
 swallows as they fluttered under the broad 
 eaves, now and then looked round at the kneel- 
 ing figure by the bed, gently lashing his tail on
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 99 
 
 the floor, as if to assure Kate that he was per- 
 fectly comfortable, and hoped she was the same. 
 
 " Jack seems to have taken quite a fancy to 
 me," said Kate at last, breaking the silence 
 with a commonplace, in the hope of stilling the 
 hot beat of the fevered pulse beneath her 
 fingers, " and — your husband says it is a 
 good sign." 
 
 "I should think no one could well be off 
 takin' a fancy to you, my dear," and Mrs 
 Granger touched the coronal of ruddy brown 
 hair that was so near her shoulder, all gently 
 and timidly. " How long have you and John 
 bin wecl ? " 
 
 Up flew the rosy colour into Kate's cheek. 
 
 " Surely you know. John wrote — did he 
 not ? " 
 
 " Happen he did, but my head's apt to be 
 weak at times. Things grow to seem dim and 
 distant-like when all the days are like each 
 other." 
 
 "It is nearly three weeks since our wedding- 
 day," said Kate, though even as she spoke it 
 seemed to her it might have been three years,
 
 100 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 three-score, a thousand years, measured by 
 thought, and not by time. " I wanted to 
 send you some wedding-cake, but John said 
 you wouldn't care about it." 
 
 " Did he ? Well, anyway, I'd like to have 
 seen it. Was it well set ? There's a deal in 
 the way a cake's mixed. In all the lot they've 
 made since I was laid by I've never seen one 
 as looked as if it had bin mixed same as I'd 
 used to mix the simnel and the Easter flats. 
 I'd a way of my own, I can tell you. When 
 our master's niece Eliza were wed, they sent 
 all along for me to mix the cake, and I mind 
 John went with me. He were a stripling 
 thing of seven or so, his eyes bright as stars, 
 his hair curled all over his head. I were as 
 proud as proud — and I mind old Farmer Dale 
 sayin' to me teatime, * Yon's as bonnie a lad as 
 I've seen this many a day, Mistress Granger.' 
 But how I run on — how I run on. I didn't 
 think I had it in me to be so fullish now- 
 adays." 
 
 " I like to hear it," said Kate, smiling, "I'm 
 sure you made the cake beautifully, and quite
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 101 
 
 sure that the old farmer spoke the truth about 
 John. Do you know I always felt sure, 
 though I don't know why I did, that you had 
 John's eyes. When I saw them looking at me 
 just now as I came into the room, they were 
 just what I had expected — just what I had 
 longed to see." 
 
 " I know," put in the sick woman eagerly ; 
 " it was just like that with him from a boy ; 
 people used to stop him in the lanes, struck 
 all at once. I mind being at Wiffle, and the 
 old Lord Whimperdale was there. He had 
 some very high people with him too ; but he 
 didn't care ; he just came up to me, and ' Mrs 
 Granger,' he says, 'that lad o' yours is some- 
 thing to be proud of ; he's got a bonnie pair of 
 eyes in his head too ; and there's no need to 
 look far neither to see where he got 'em from.' 
 Of course that was his fullish talk ; but he 
 was an old man, and no offence took, none 
 bein' meant." 
 
 " I don't think it was foolish at all," said 
 Kate, smiling ; "it was quite true." 
 
 For the time being all the bitterness in her
 
 102 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 heart was forgotten. Her mind had flown 
 back to those precious golden clays when first 
 she had seen and known John Granger. She 
 thrilled even now to the memory of their sweet- 
 ness — to the memory of the divine conscious- 
 ness of a new pulse of joy beating through 
 and through her life — a pulse throbbing beat 
 for beat with his — of all her high and tender 
 aspirations after the truest and fullest com- 
 panionship with the man who delighted to 
 honour her with his preference, and whose 
 love seemed to her as a radiant crown, fulfilling 
 the completeness of her womanhood. 
 
 As she knelt there by the bed of patient 
 pain in that silent room, where now the lamp 
 began to shine out by reason of the gathering 
 dusk, all that was best in Kate's nature was to 
 the fore ; every generous feeling kindled at the 
 sight of the worn and patient face upon the 
 pillow, and of the mother-love and pride that 
 shone in the eyes so like to John's, as his 
 mother spoke of the days of his beautiful 
 boyhood. 
 
 " All that seems such a long time back now,"
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 103 
 
 continued Mrs Granger ; "I mean the time 
 when I could get about like other folk and see 
 to things. I'd been brought up notable in 
 house ways, and never sat a minute with my 
 hands folded afore me, or gossiping over the 
 gate, or any such ways, and it seemed agen 
 everything mother had ever taught me to be 
 lying still, never moving hand nor foot — never 
 moving hand nor foot." 
 
 A tear slowly trickled down the sunken 
 cheek. The root of the bitterness of the good 
 housewife's trial had been touched upon. She 
 could not " see to things." Pain and weari- 
 ness were nothing, but the idleness that was a 
 necessity was as a cross too heavy to be borne. 
 
 Kate tenderly wiped away the falling tear 
 with her dainty handkerchief, and bent to kiss 
 the place it had bedewed. 
 
 "Ah, my dear," said Mrs Granger, " I am a 
 discontented old woman to grumble like this, 
 I that have so many mercies to be thankful 
 for, and have bin such a sorry trial to others ; 
 but it's your kind face and gentle ways as drew 
 the sorrow from me. I've fancied sometimes
 
 104 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 (one grows fullish maybe being so much alone) 
 that I've heard my mother's voice say in' in 
 my ear : ' Can this be my girl Susie lying here 
 day and night, growm' old in her bed, and 
 never putting a hand to nought?' and I've 
 found no answer in my heart, only this : ' It's 
 the Lord's will, and none of us can go by 
 that.'" 
 
 Just as the last word fell from those pale, 
 patient lips, a long pathetic note of melody 
 came from somewhere just below the room. 
 Jack pricked up his ears, and sat up on end, 
 pantiDg. 
 
 "It's Humbie," said Mrs Granger; "see, 
 the dog kDOWs his master's touch. Ay, but 
 many's the time Humbie's music's comforted 
 me. It's bin like as if it told all the story of 
 what's lain in my heart all the long years — 
 told it all to God, better than I could tell it in 
 words myself." 
 
 Then all the air grew sweet with the sound 
 of that violin voice, and some of the sublimes t 
 airs that ever Handel gave us to make us 
 wings and carry our souls heavenward, far
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 105 
 
 above earth and all its trials and its sorrows, 
 rang out through the oloamino;. 
 
 Surelv it must be that something in the 
 nature of the north-country folk is closely 
 akin to music. In those northern shires you 
 may many times and oft, in the still summers 
 evening, hear through the cottage window set 
 back upon its hinges, no popular airs, no 
 " fancy music," as a Yorkshireman once ex- 
 pressed it to me, but the works of those great 
 masters of melody, who have clone more to 
 sublimate and lift heavenwards the mind and 
 thoughts of men than many preachers. The 
 passionate, pathetic cry of the violin, the velvet 
 softness and mellow tones of the 'cello, these, 
 played by hands that toil all day and rest only 
 at eventide, make the summer nights sweet 
 indeed, and the winter gatherings about the 
 ingle-nook times of refreshment alike to ear 
 and heart. 
 
 With Humbie music had been a passion from 
 his childhood. He would steal away from the 
 farm, and be found crouched down outside 
 some cottage-window in the village, or perhaps
 
 106 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 nestling in the wide chimney-corner curled up 
 like a little cat, listening with all his ears to 
 honest Hodge playing his " bits " from Beet- 
 hoven or Mozart on the violin that was 
 cherished and tended as much as any child of 
 the family ; or he would hang about the church 
 door intent upon the choir practice inside, 
 where the Low Cross village choristers were 
 preparing some surprise for the Rector in the 
 shape of an anthem, with rolling notes in the 
 bass for the violoncello, and a solo for a boy- 
 siuger, whose voice apparently came out of the 
 top of his head. 
 
 Happy moments for Humbie were these, and 
 as the child grew to boyhood the love of all 
 sweet sounds grew with him, and of love was 
 begotten skill, so that in time his violin be- 
 came to him as a second self, and spoke to him 
 with sweet, impassioned voice of the pathos of 
 his own life, of the something that made him 
 "not the same as other folk," but set him 
 apart from his fellows, and made all love 
 bestowed upon him tremulous with a thrill of 
 pity.
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 107 
 
 "John loves to hear Humble play," said Mrs 
 Granger, as the music ceased awhile, and Jack 
 gave a short, sharp bark, then sat listening, as 
 who should say : " Very well played, my 
 master ; pray go on." 
 
 Kate made no answer. As she had listened 
 to the sweet, pleading sounds of the boy's 
 violin her thoughts had once more- flown back 
 to the old home. 
 
 It was the evening before their marriage — 
 John's and hers. They two walked side by 
 side in the garden that sloped to the river. 
 
 Above their heads the branches met and 
 kissed ; and through this arch of verdure 
 formed by two lindens near the shore they 
 saw Will coming to the bank in his boat. 
 There was the soft crunch of her bow against 
 the pebbles ; the grating of the chain as the 
 boy let it slip into the water under the awning, 
 ere he leapt on shore. His face was pale, his 
 eyes searched the faces of the two so soon to 
 be one. Kate held his arm, and John laid a 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " You will be good to her?" said Will, a
 
 103 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 solemn look making his blue eyes deep and 
 dark. " You will be good to Kate — my true 
 Kate ?" and John had answered : 
 
 " Will— why, Will, what is this? Do you 
 not know that I shall cherish her all my life as 
 my most precious possession ? What has put 
 it into your heart to speak to me like this ? " 
 
 " A fancy — a boyish fancy," said Will, and 
 passed on into the room where, by the lamp- 
 light, Miss Cynthia and the General could 
 be seen seated side by side, as if, in this the 
 hour of parting with their darling, nearness 
 was comfort. 
 
 Had John been true to his words of that 
 night ? Had he been " good " to Kate, true 
 to Kate, as she to him \ 
 
 Up started the bitterness and the sense of 
 betrayal in Kate's heart. The music, that once 
 again made the now star-flecked night sweet, 
 had no power to still or soothe her pain. 
 
 Alack for this loving, impressionable nature, 
 this girl full of a tender enthusiasm for truth 
 and right, looking at life with an air of sweet 
 defiance, ready to err, but never to be unreal,
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 109 
 
 full of passionate pain that what she loved 
 should fall from her own ideal, and as yet 
 unlearned in the lesson of discipline that could 
 alone strengthen her to curb the expression of 
 her suffering. 
 
 " I must go now," she said, rising to her 
 feet, and looking away from the face upon the 
 pillow. " I have many things to see to in my 
 room." 
 
 "And you are used to be waited on?" said 
 Mrs Granger, her voice a little tremulous. 
 Then she added timidly : " Mightna' one of 
 the lassies be of any good for helping ? They'd 
 be proud, I know well, to do aught for their 
 brother John's wife." 
 
 But Kate wanted no help. 
 
 Just then she longed to bear all her own 
 burdens, and for no hand, not even John's, to 
 touch even the edge of them. Her head, 
 crowned with its nut-brown coronal, was held 
 high ; her cheeks were no longer pale, her 
 eyes were bright and beautiful, and with no 
 mist of tears to dim their radiance. 
 
 Again a look of trouble and fear came upon
 
 110 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Mrs Granger's nice. She put out her hand 
 and caught Kate's gown. 
 
 " Must you go so quick \ It's been lovely 
 having you by me, and seeing John's wife as 
 I've thought so much on." 
 
 But Kate meant going. 
 
 The quiet room ; the tender, loving house- 
 mother " laid by," and never more to go about 
 her active service of love in the home ; the 
 lamplight falling on the open Bible — it was all 
 so tender, sad, and holy that Kate felt she had 
 no business there while hot anger and wounded 
 pride ran riot in her heart. 
 
 Seeing no yielding in her face, Mrs Granger 
 tried again. 
 
 " It canna' be late, for Leah's not bin in to 
 read the evening chapter. Will na' ye stay 
 a while ?" 
 
 " I will come again to-morrow, if I may," 
 said Kate. 
 
 Jack was quickly up and stirring, and the 
 two crossed the room. 
 
 But Kate was called back. 
 
 " My dear — there's a word I want to say."
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. Ill 
 
 What could she do else than turn back to 
 the bedside \ 
 
 Again Mrs Granger caught a fold of her 
 gown. 
 
 " John's bin a dear good son to me. Will 
 you think on that ? A loving son to me." 
 
 Then Kate went. In the passage she met 
 Leah. 
 
 " I'm going to read the evening chapter," 
 said the girl. 
 
 And Kate, lingering in one of the wide 
 window seats, heard her presently : 
 
 " ' Peace I leave with you : My peace I give 
 unto you : not as the xoorld giveth give I unto 
 your' 
 
 Even the north-country burr in Leah's voice 
 could not rob this sublime valediction of its 
 transcendent beauty — could not mask to the 
 woman who listened, the fact of how far — how 
 very far away, seemed all peace from her own 
 heart. 
 
 Kate went to her room, and closed the door. 
 Such pain as she was experiencing does not 
 abate — rather it feeds upon itself. She busied
 
 112 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 herself with unpacking all that was needed for 
 the night, all the while hearing, yet as it were 
 being deaf to, the music that, now more 
 distant, had begun to sound again. It fell 
 upon her ear ; it did not speak to her heart. 
 It was a shock to her to be conscious of a 
 shrinking from seeing John alone ; to detect 
 deep down in her troubled thoughts a longing 
 to go — go — go ; to find all her surroundings a 
 dream, from which she should presently awake 
 to find herself in the dear old room at home, 
 with Aunt Cynthia singing in the twilight. 
 
 She had lit the two tall candles on either 
 hand the quaint, old-fashioned, oval toilet- 
 mirror before John came in. 
 
 They stood face to face — pallid, with staring, 
 eager eyes. 
 
 "Kate!" he said— " Kate!" and held out 
 both his hands to her. 
 
 She turned from him, raising her arms high 
 with an indescribable gesture of anguish. Her 
 voice was faint and hoarse, and fell strangely 
 on his ear : 
 
 " Do not speak to me — it is the truest kind-
 
 ON HOLY GROUND. 113 
 
 ness you can show to me. Tn time I shall be 
 able to bear it better ; but now, do not speak, 
 I entreat of you." 
 
 " Kate/' he cried, striving to look into her 
 averted face, " it was because I loved you so 
 dearly. I tried to tell you all the truth — 
 indeed I did — many times ; but you were so 
 precious to me. I feared to lose you." 
 
 She turned upon him, and her eyes blazed. 
 
 " You feared to trust me, you mean. You 
 did not think I loved you enough. Well, I 
 did — I did ! I would not have cared. Bat 
 
 now Oh, have pity on me ; do not 
 
 speak to me ! " 
 
 VOL. T. H
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 
 
 A woman of such strong feelings as Kate 
 Granger was not likely to be lacking in either 
 dignity or courage. The "little rift within 
 the lute," the discord in the harmony of love 
 to which she had listened entranced, believing 
 its sweetness a thing that could have no vari- 
 ableness neither shadow of turning — these 
 things were bitter indeed to her, so bitter that 
 she could not bear to dwell upon them, but 
 willed that they should be "put past," as the 
 Scotch have it, buried in silence — a silence that 
 she herself respected as she looked for her hus- 
 band to respect it. She had told him that the 
 touch of words was not to be borne upon the 
 wound his want of trust had made in her heart, 
 and the forbearance she exacted she gave. 
 
 In writing to Aunt Cynthia and the General, 
 now en route to Maderia, she said :
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 115 
 
 " John's people are very good to me." 
 She felt this to be true, because she quickly 
 came to the conclusion that Miss Libbie's close- 
 neaved ways and little sournesses could hardly 
 be called unkind, since they were not meant to 
 be so, and might be looked upon as the prickly 
 rind that enclosed a sound and healthy kernel ; 
 while as to the rest, in their simple way they 
 were ready to do all that mortal man or woman 
 could to make her happy, and to show their 
 pride in her. More than once she heard the 
 honest farmer make use in reference to herself 
 of that proverb about "church and market," 
 which had so puzzled her in Miss Libbie's 
 letter, in what seemed a time now long ago. 
 
 * CI C3 
 
 She no longer started at his jolly laugh, or the 
 sudden slap on his leg when greatly tickled by 
 any of his own jokes. She was, in a word, 
 too clever not to grasp the situation in which 
 she found herself, seize it" best points, and 
 quickly realise the picturesque side of Yorkshire 
 farm -life. 
 
 Then there was always Humbie — Humbie 
 who watched her with the same look in his 
 eyes as Jack, Humbie who seemed to try and
 
 116 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 anticipate her every wish, who laid the sweetest 
 little nosegay by her plate every moruing, and 
 jDlayed to her in the early autumn nights that 
 were still so balmy and so witching. 
 
 And there were long walks with John to be 
 enjoyed, times in which — always in both their 
 hearts the consciousness of the buried wrong 
 that slept beneath the sod of silence — half the 
 sweetness of the long days by the sea came 
 back to Kate again, and love was lord of all, 
 even though he bore a wound in his heart of 
 hearts, and, like the pendent crimson of the 
 flower we all know well, might fitly have been 
 called " Poor Love lies bleeding." 
 
 There were fir woods outside Low Cross 
 village, very palaces for the birds and 
 squirrels ; woods where the tall, tasselled 
 trees stood all of a row, cathedral aisles not 
 made by mortal hands, but built by Nature 
 little by little as the years passed by, pillared 
 by slender boles, and roofed with feathered 
 greenery light and beautiful, through which 
 the mellowed light filtered down to the path- 
 way that was strewn with a million pine-
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 1 17 
 
 needles, giving out a sweet and pungent 
 perfume beneath the pressure of the feet. 
 
 Kate was charmed with Low Cross village, 
 with its little, square-towered church high up 
 on the hill, at whose foot the clustering 
 cottages nestled ; the verdant hill, so steep, 
 that in summer time, seen from below, the 
 haymakers seemed to be making hay up in 
 the sky, and on Sunday the three soft bell- 
 voices from the tower dropped right from 
 heaven into the bosom of the village beneath. 
 Then the houses, how quaint they were ; some 
 so curiously wide -roofed, and curved, and 
 turned, that they looked like demure old 
 ladies in Dunstable bonnets ! You could 
 almost fancy that, if you watched them long 
 enough, they would curtsey to each other in 
 the gloaming, or nod their heads in kindly 
 good-night greeting. One or two of the more 
 pretentious were girdled by a motto, like Low 
 Cross Farm; such as "God is our help," 
 "God be with us," and the like ; almost all 
 had window plants in shallow, projecting win- 
 dows — fuchsias, geraniums, and gigantic petu-
 
 118 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 nias white and purple, the morning-glory, and 
 pale azure periwinkle clambered over the door- 
 ways forming quite a floral archway for the 
 passers in and out ; while on the thatched roof 
 patches of stonecrop and clumps of deep green, 
 velvety moss gave a mellow harmony of 
 colours. In the centre of the village was The 
 Green. It had no other name than this simple 
 statement of its existence, since — so Low Cross 
 was fully convinced — no other green existed in 
 the three kingdoms to compare with it. At its 
 head stood The Whimperdale Arms, a hostelry 
 redeemed from the status of a mere village 
 ale-house by the flowers that bloomed in its 
 many window-boxes, and the low porch all 
 covered with ivy and the crimson- berried 
 radocanthus, with its quaint old stone seats 
 on either side. 
 
 In the centre of the green was a massive 
 cross, its broad arms cunningly carved in stone, 
 the steps at its base embossed by many a cleep- 
 hued lichen, the wheel in its centre perforated. 
 At the foot of this cross night by night, for cen- 
 tury after century, from the month of Sep tern-
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 119 
 
 ber on to Shrovetide, a blast had been blown 
 on a mighty ox-horn at ten precisely of the 
 night, so that Low Cross people were apt to 
 say " at horn-blow," just as we say at " cock- 
 crow," and in snowy winters, when the York- 
 shire wolds were one unbroken sea of dazzling 
 white, and each pine-tree in the woods bore its 
 load of snow, it was said that many a wayfarer 
 had been saved from cruel death by the clear, 
 sharp blast of the great horn. 
 
 As you stood on the green you could see 
 the chimneys of the farm among the larches, 
 and, further away, quite in the distance, the 
 towers of Steadly Hall, the great house of the 
 neighbourhood. The red gables of the Rectory, 
 too, were discernible half-way up the hill 
 towards the church. 
 
 All able-handed male Low Cross worked at 
 the ironstone diggings that lay on the far side 
 of the hills : consequently husbands, fathers, 
 and sweethearts were wont to be more or less 
 powdered with ochre-dust, like so many auric- 
 ula blossoms. The women wore short skirts, 
 loose, coloured cotton jackets, and big sun-
 
 120 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 bonnets, even the oldest female inhabitants 
 going about like a Kate Greenaway girl seen 
 through a magnifying glass. But these things 
 were for week-day wear, of course, r "n Sun- 
 days these dames appeared inr -ack beaver 
 bonnets, with goffered caps of a whiteness to 
 dazzle your eyes. 
 
 Of course Low Cross had its inevitable 
 village shop, where chandlery, sweetstuff, and 
 a sprinkling of stationery and drapery dwelt 
 amicably side by side ; but the proprietor of 
 the establishment, secure in monopoly, never 
 put himself out for anybody, and on one occa- 
 sion, when Kate asked him if he had a stick 
 of sealing-wax among his goods, he amused 
 her not a little by replying : 
 
 " Weel, I doan't rightly know ; but I'll 
 speer aboot a bit, mum, and happen I'll put 
 my hand on one." 
 
 The postal arrangements, too, were amus- 
 ingly primitive. One morning the letters were 
 unconscionably late because the postman " had 
 the toothache " ; on another occasion because 
 his wife had had twins during the night. No
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 121 
 
 one grumbled at these things. Such events 
 would occur in the best regulated families, 
 and must be put up with. 
 
 Inclt 1 o1 l the livelong day Low Cross was 
 a veritable ^leepy Hollow," and Kate thought 
 that even the dogs yawned more persistently 
 than in other places, each sitting on its own 
 yellow-painted doorstep lazily snapping at the 
 flies. 
 
 The great orchard-garden at the farm was 
 a source of great delight to Kate, with its 
 under-tangle of ragwort, columbine, harts- 
 tongue, and the white-starred stellaria, and its 
 gnarled and knotted apple-trees, their load of 
 fruit ripening in the August sun, while here 
 and there a rosy-cheeked windfall lay shining 
 among the grass. 
 
 " It's an audfarran'd place," said Matthew 
 Golclstraw, full of pride, as well Kate could 
 see, yet affecting a serene indifference ; " and 
 sadly choked i' places with them dratted 
 dockans; but there's few apples i' all the 
 country round can touch them Blenheims and 
 Keswicks, that there bean't."
 
 122 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Besides, Matthew," said Kate, with a 
 smile that seemed to touch the old man's 
 weatherbeaten face like sunshine ; " even the 
 clock-leaves are useful, if one gets stung by a 
 nettle." 
 
 "Ay, ay/' admitted Matthew with a re- 
 luctant air ; " if a body be fule enoo' to meddle 
 wi' them so' art." 
 
 " We are stung sometimes whether we will 
 or no," said Kate, with a sigh, and a far-away 
 look in her eyes. 
 
 Never had Leah and Eachel been happier 
 than in showing off all their mosta cherished 
 possessions to Mrs John. In the matter of 
 attire they had mutually agreed from the first 
 that there was nothing left for them to do but 
 admire at a vast, an immeasurable distance ; 
 but in the matter of birds and beasts and wild 
 flowers, to say nothing of a store of household 
 treasures, they felt they could hold their own. 
 Even to each other they never spoke of their 
 brother's wife as anything but "Mrs John." 
 To have called her " Kate " would have sav- 
 oured of presumption and discourtesy. They
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 123 
 
 followed her about ; were ardent to fetch and 
 carry for her ; and were never so delighted as 
 when John and Humbie, with guns and dogs, 
 betook themselves to the moors that lay some 
 miles to the north, only returning as the light 
 died away and the day closed in (the "keen 
 mare." as Matthew would observe, "as fresh 
 as when she started ") ; because on such occa- 
 sions their brother's wife was left entirely to 
 them, to be taken about here, there, and every- 
 where, except for that quiet hour which she 
 spent daily with the helpless house-mother. 
 
 A day or two after that memorable home- 
 coming when Kate first saw Low Cross 
 Farm, Leah and Eachel set up their first claim 
 upon Kate's time and attention. They came, 
 timidly enough, to her room, and suggested 
 (or rather Leah suggested, while Rachel blushed 
 and smiled in the background) that perhaps 
 "Mrs John" would like to see the "best 
 parlour." 
 
 "There's mother's fire-screen too," put in 
 Rachel, with an air of conviction that the last-
 
 3 24 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 named attraction must of necessity prove 
 irresistible to anyone. 
 
 " I shall be glad to go and see everything," 
 said Kate, smiling, and a sigh of intense happi- 
 ness heaved the bosoms of the twins. 
 
 How much would they have to tell to 
 their very particular friend, the postmaster's 
 daughter, when this too delightful visit of 
 their brother's London wife should be over ! 
 
 They devoured her with their eyes. Eachel 
 was overcome to think she had ever compared 
 Miss Sweetapple to this paragon. But then, 
 they had not then known what " ways " Mrs 
 John had with her, nor yet caught sight of that 
 beautiful gown, all pink silk — the colour of 
 the roses that looked in at the window — and 
 black ]ace so fine it felt like so many cobwebs 
 in your hand. They wished Mrs John could 
 put on that gown with its long, sweeping- 
 train, and walk up and down the meadow, 
 while all Low Cross was peeping in through 
 the rails and over the wide side-gate. 
 
 They felt so tall that they almost expected 
 to see their frocks look indecently short.
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 125 
 
 Though shod in good, broad-toed, substantial 
 leather shoes, they seemed to tread on air. 
 How often had they gazed — as the Peri gazed 
 in at the gate of Heaven — at the great pew 
 that had a little gallery all to itself in the 
 recess opposite the pulpit and the "high" 
 company from the Hall therein assembled, 
 whose presence entirely prevented the Rector's 
 wife from paying the slightest attention to 
 her prayers ! 
 
 Well, now people were going to gaze at 
 them — or, rather, at this charming figure in 
 their midst. 
 
 " She is not like us," Leah had whispered 
 to her sister in the retirement of the passage 
 window-seat over-night ; " she is like the 
 company they have at the Hall." 
 
 Of course there was no need to particularise 
 who " she " was. The personal pronoun was 
 quite descriptive enough. For Leah and 
 Rachel there was no other " she " in the world 
 than that lithe, girlish creature with the 
 coronal of ruddy hair and the fearless, golden- 
 brown eyes.
 
 126 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 As beautiful and as simple as one of the 
 wild-flowers round their native homestead was 
 the single-hearted devotion bestowed upon 
 Kate by these honest country lassies. No 
 leaven of jealousy, no speck of covetousness 
 marred its perfection. Their own homely 
 ways and simple dresses were not made in the 
 least distasteful to them by this near vision of 
 a creature so different to themselves. 
 
 They were proud, too, for John's sake. 
 Had they not been proud of that clever 
 brother of theirs all their lives ? They did 
 not think it at all strange that Kate had 
 married him. 
 
 Anybody would, you know. 
 
 But they thought he had made a beautiful 
 choice, and they told Humbie so in the 
 meadow. 
 
 "We thought, just at first, you know, that 
 she wouldn't care for things," they said ; 
 " the white calfy, and the kittens, and the 
 fantails, and pouters " 
 
 " Did you ? " said Humbie ; "I never did. 
 T knew she would care for everything."
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 127 
 
 " Oh, Humbie ! " they cried, " how clever 
 you are ! " 
 
 But the boy would not say any more. 
 Humbie was in a dream. 
 
 He had often tried to fancy and picture to 
 himself a fairy princess for John. Now the 
 vision had come true, and she was more 
 gentle and more winning than even this fancy 
 of his had painted her. 
 
 He did not want to lose time in talking, 
 there was so much to think about. True, 
 there was a shadow on his joy ; but he had 
 not put it into words as yet, not even to his 
 own heart. 
 
 Mother knew. Of this he was sure ; but 
 they had not spoken of it together. Indeed, 
 there was little need for the two — the mother 
 and her boy — the boy who was " not just like 
 other folk" to resort to words at any time. 
 It seemed with them as if thought flashed 
 from heart to heart like an electric current 
 carrying light. 
 
 But we are letting the clock run on too 
 fast, and must put the hands back a little, for
 
 128 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 we have left our trio too long on their way to 
 the best parlour. On the one side of the wide 
 flagged passage that ran all the length of the 
 house at Low Cross were, as we already know, 
 two rooms, leading the one from the other — 
 the house-place, or summer sitting-room, and 
 the kitchen with its great reckon and its 
 shining walls, bejewelled by all kinds of 
 utensils that could be made to shine like 
 mirrors. On the other side of the way was 
 a single, long, rather narrow room, with a 
 determinedly festive appearance that to some 
 people was decidedly depressing. There were 
 so many antimacassars about that it was a 
 complete trap to the unwary, and you had to 
 exercise some ingenuity not to leave the room 
 bringing with you, adhering to some part of 
 your toilette, one of these curious works of 
 art ; indeed, it was said that the Eev. 
 Dionysius Sweetapple, M.A., Eector of Low 
 Cross and private chaplain to Lord Whimper- 
 dale, had on one occasion walked almost the 
 length of the village, with a structure in beads 
 and what is called macrame thread depending
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 129 
 
 from his reverend person by the behind button 
 of his clerical coat. This, however, may be 
 only a fable invented by the gossips of Low 
 Cross in an hour of spleen. 
 
 Leah led the way, Kate followed, Rachel 
 brought up the rear, straining eagerly forward, 
 to see what impression should be made upon 
 Mrs John by the sight of the " best parlour " 
 and all its magnificence. 
 
 Leah opened the door, stepping back to give 
 greater effect to the coup dceil, and to allow 
 the honoured guest to enter. As she did so, 
 the eyes of both sisters were focussed on her 
 face. She was different to themselves ; she 
 was like the company at the Hall ; but it was 
 hardly probable she could have seen anything 
 better, in its way, than this cherished room of 
 theirs. 
 
 She looked quietly round ; she was quite calm. 
 
 "If you made all these" — hesitating for a 
 word — " tidies yourselves, it must have taken 
 you a long time," said Kate. 
 
 They were pleased at this, and told her how 
 
 this person and that had given them new 
 VOL. i. I
 
 130 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 patterns, and shown them new stitches in 
 both crochet and knittiDg. 
 
 " Do you crochet much ? " said Leah. " Miss 
 Sweetapple told us it had rather gone out of 
 fashion, but we could scarcely believe her, 
 could we, Ray ? " 
 
 " No/' replied Mrs John ; " I am not clever 
 at fancy work of that kind, but I have an aunt 
 who knits." 
 
 " This is mother's screen," put in Rachel, 
 showing some tact, it must be confessed, in 
 turning to a fresh subject, and again the twins 
 prepared to see their brother's wife astonished. 
 
 The fire-screen was enshrined in a real rose- 
 wood frame, and was looked upon by the 
 village collectively as a very sweet thing in 
 fancy work. It represented a basket, outlined 
 in gold beads and yellow braid ; and in this, 
 stitched down to the canvas, was a group of 
 artificial flowers, the tendrils of which were 
 worked in green wool (chain stitch), and ap- 
 peared to have no connection with anything, 
 and to begin and end in a perfectly indepen- 
 dent manner. There was a white camellia, and
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 131 
 
 a rose that had once been red, but was now but 
 a faded blotch. 
 
 Somehow it came to Kate to think that the 
 rose of the worker's life had faded in like 
 manner, and that nothing was left but the 
 pale reflection of what once had been. 
 
 She pictured a girl, young, buoyant, hopeful 
 — a girl something like Leah, but with John's 
 eyes — bending over the outstretched canvas, 
 and feeling in her innocent heart something of 
 an artist's pride as those wonderful tendrils 
 grew beneath her hands; and then she thought 
 of the spirit-face upon the pillow upstairs, and 
 the willing hands that would never more be 
 active, but must lie folded and still like dead 
 flowers. 
 
 How the "white wonder" of Kate's hand, 
 shining with many rings, showed up as she 
 laid it against the faded screen, like a dove's 
 wing seen against a grey sky ! How stately 
 she was ! How gently she moved, making no 
 sound, yet lithe and active as a young deer ! 
 The twins exchanged glances ; there was no 
 one like her — no one.
 
 132 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 How they longed for Sunday ! Then she 
 would put on her best — everyone did that, of 
 course, on the seventh clay of the week — and 
 sit in their midst in the family pew, and even 
 the Hall people in their own particular gallery 
 would look down and think her a sight to 
 see. 
 
 One or two samplers on the walls of the best 
 parlour were examined, all the work of the 
 house-mother in a day gone by, and all of the 
 most moral and edifying nature, and then Leah 
 whispered to Eachel : 
 
 " Would we show her the white calfy, do 
 you think, Ray ? " 
 
 So they did, first fetching down from her 
 room the grey hat with those wonderful curl- 
 ing feathers, and watching her intently as she 
 put it on before a round mirror, above which 
 a gold eagle held up a gold chain, and which, 
 from age, had acquired a misty surface that no 
 mortal duster would clear. 
 
 It was delightful to find that Mrs John took 
 the deepest interest in the shaky-legged, goggle- 
 eyed calf ; in the four kittens with bushy tails ;
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 133 
 
 in the peacock, who strutted and lifted up his 
 beautiful arch of feathers ; even in the little 
 rose-leaf-pink pigs, with tails like delicate ten- 
 drils, tumbling over one another in the golden 
 straw. All at once Kate looked upwards, 
 shading her eyes with her hand. There, on 
 the top of the steep, steep hill, stood the 
 square-towered church, a fane enshrined in the 
 turquoise-blue sky. 
 
 " Could we go up there ? There must be a 
 lovely view," said Kate, and in a moment they 
 were off up the winding, sandy lane, with its 
 woodbine -laden hedges, and firs each wearing 
 a crown of cones. 
 
 How lightly Kate walked even up the 
 steepest parts of the way ! 
 
 A " fine London lady " indeed ! Don't tell 
 them ; they knew better, bless you, whatever 
 Aunt Libbie might say. 
 
 They couldn't say these things out loud, 
 Kate being there, but they looked at each other 
 across her (of course, they were one on each 
 side of her), and understood without words. 
 
 " We will go to the churchyard," said Rachel,
 
 134 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 taking the lead naturally, as the eldest by half 
 an hour. 
 
 So to the churchyard they went ; and then 
 Kate found that in this, as in many other 
 matters, distance had lent enchantment to the 
 view. 
 
 The shadow of the Methodism planted by 
 Whitfield and Wesley in those northern shires 
 was still brooding over Low Cross, and its 
 churchyard had none of that beauty which one 
 loves to see associated with the resting-place of 
 the dead. 
 
 Sheep grazed here and there, kneeling to 
 graze as almost seeming to know they were in 
 the shadow of God's house. The grass grew 
 rank and strong, and was varied by heaps of 
 clay and sod, which offended the eye of the 
 beholder. 
 
 The gravestones were lolling about at every 
 possible angle suggestive of neglect and decay, 
 and sprang from beds of nettles and weeds in 
 which no floweret, even the most humble, cared 
 to blow. 
 
 Across this dreary wilderness the twins led
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 135 
 
 poor Kate, until they brought her to what was 
 apparently the family place of sepulture, a 
 flat erection like a dressing-table with a stone 
 top. 
 
 " Aunt Phoebe, Uncle Toser, and three of us 
 who died quite little. Shoo ! " 
 
 This last adjuration was not, as might have 
 been supposed, addressed to the manes of the 
 departed, but to an old and decrepit donkey, 
 which, with its front feet hobbled to prevent it 
 straying, came staggering towards the group at 
 the tombstone. 
 
 " Poor soul ! " said Kate pityingly. " I 
 should think they need, hardly tie its legs to 
 prevent it roaming at its own sweet will ; why, 
 it has enough to do to stand. What a shame 
 to have it stumbling about among the graves 
 like that ! " 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Ray, amazed. 
 " The crazing is let out." 
 
 Hot, impulsive Kate was about to break 
 out into expressions of the strongest disap- 
 proval, but curbed herself in time. After all, 
 it was not her place to set all Low Cross right,
 
 13 (J BONNIE KATE. 
 
 and frighten the twins by a — to them — mys- 
 sterious indignation. Even the sorrow and 
 trials of the last few days had taught her 
 something — just the initial letter, one may 
 say, of the art of self-discipline. 
 
 "All our people are buried here," said Leah, 
 laying her hand upon the flat, moss-grown 
 stone. 
 
 "So I see," said Kate, unable to control a 
 shiver as she glanced at the tossed, uneven turf 
 beneath the slab ; " so I see." 
 
 " When Uncle Toser was buried all the 
 village came to see," said Eay. " I don't 
 believe there was a creature left down below. 
 You were hard put to it to get round them, 
 they crowded in such a throng — they were 
 thick as porriwiggles in the pond by the 
 meadow. There wasn't such a botherment in 
 Low Cross for years back." 
 
 Leah was watching Kate. 
 
 " Has'na John told you all about Uncle 
 Toser \ " she said at last, coming close up to 
 her. 
 
 What would not Kate have given to have
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 137 
 
 kept back the rich red flood that dyed her cheek 
 crimson at the girls innocent questioning ? 
 
 She had not been a wife even four short 
 weeks without learning instinctively that a 
 wife's first duty is to shield the weakness or 
 misdeeds of her husband — that she should be as 
 armour to him against the world, and at times 
 against himself; but the stab of conscious- 
 ness, the swift pang of remembering how little 
 in truth had John told her about anything, 
 drove the blood from her heart to her face — 
 brought, too, the tears to her bright eyes. 
 
 " Have you stung yourself wi' the nettles 1" 
 cried Leah ; " they're needing to be cut down, 
 sure enough ; or happen the hill was too brant 
 for her, Ray ?" 
 
 Kate sat down on the flat tombstone. 
 
 " I am out of breath," said poor Kate, with 
 a flitting smile, glad to see they had already 
 forgotten their question. " I will rest here a 
 little, while you tell me about Uncle Toser." 
 
 They both began together. 
 
 " He was a very clever man " 
 
 But Kate laughed, and held up her finger.
 
 138 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " One at a time," she said. " One at a time." 
 
 So Kay took up the tale, incited thereto by 
 a gesture from Leah. 
 
 " He was a very clever man was Uncle 
 Toser. Father says he used to walk about 
 with his head among the stars." 
 
 "His head among the stars!" echoed Kate, 
 amazed, " What was he ? Was he an 
 astronomer ?" 
 
 " Yes, that's it," continued Eay, eagerly ; 
 " and he knew every star in the sky ; he could 
 read it the same as one can read a book, and 
 knew what it said. He used to look through 
 a great spy-glass, and you'd hear him say to 
 himsel' : * Wonderful! wonderful — it's past all 
 telling.' He took to John amazin', and said 
 he'd a vast mind for books, and was a pro- 
 misin' lad, and no mistake, and all suchlike 
 sayin's. Uncle Toser was thought a lot on by 
 all the country round, he was such a clever 
 man. He lived with father and mother at the 
 farm, and he took great note on us children — 
 every one of us, but he was counted close- 
 neaved, and not one to put much in the col-
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 139 
 
 lectin' plate on Sundays. Well, when Humbie 
 was a bit baby with no name to him, Uncle 
 Toser took dreadful bad, and he said, bein' as 
 he was so bad, they might humour him a little 
 and call the baby Humboldt. Father wasn't 
 over willin' ; he thought it carried such a 
 heathen kind o' sound ; but Uncle Toser set 
 his mind to have it so, and said that a man 
 named that way wrote mighty fine words, and 
 read the sky and all the stars like an open 
 book, and he'd like for Humbie to grow up a 
 star-gazer same fashion, and happen the name 
 would do something towards it. He said John 
 was a likely lad, and he'd clone his duty by 
 him, but he'd no mind for star-gazing, and 
 maybe Humbie would take on that way " 
 
 At this point in the family history Eay 
 stopped, and Leah, eager to have her say, took 
 up the broken thread. 
 
 " Uncle Toser died when Humbie was only 
 a week christened, and then they found he 
 hadn't been close-neaved for nothing, for he 
 left a vast of money, and put it down on 
 paper, and had it signed by Mr Sweetapple and
 
 140 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 the head gamekeeper at the Hall, that all that 
 money was to be for John. It was wrote 
 down like this : ' To be for my nephew John, 
 to give him all sorts o' learnin' and to make a 
 gentleman of him.' Why, Ray — Ray! she's 
 lost her breath again," and Leah caught Kate's 
 hand and hugged it up to her bosom. 
 
 How white she was ! How strange her eyes 
 looked, just as if they could see nothing nearer 
 than the moorland, on which the westering sun 
 lay sleeping, and which looked like a purple 
 haze in the far, far distance. 
 
 There was a soft rush through the tall grass, 
 a whimper of delight, and Jack had his two 
 tawny paws on Kate's lap, and was audaciously 
 trying his best to lick her pale cheek with his 
 rose- red tongue. 
 
 " Down, sir — down !" cried a voice from the 
 lych-gate, and then Humbie came up to them, 
 and stood there, looking gravely down at his 
 brother's wife. 
 
 " We were telling her about Uncle Toser," 
 said Leah, " and how he left all his money . . ."
 
 LOW CROSS VILLAGE. 14*1 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Humbie, a flush rising 
 hotly to his brow ; " you have been chattering 
 away until you have tired her out. Run 
 home, both of you ; mother will be wondering 
 how you came to be out so long, and neither 
 of you going nigh her/' 
 
 With one pouting, regretful look at Kate 
 they were gone. Then there was silence 
 awhile in the churchyard, save for the short, 
 blundering steps of the hobbled donkey, and 
 the weird cry of some shrikes as they rose and 
 fell, and rose again against the amber sky. 
 
 Kate's hand was held close and fast in the 
 long, lithe fingers that could with surpassing 
 cunning " discourse such excellent music " 
 from the violin. 
 
 Both her eyes and Humbie's were fixed upon 
 the fair distant scene that lay outspread at 
 their feet. The gold and the purple were 
 dying to soft blues and tender greys. Field 
 and tree and moorland seemed to be seen 
 through an exquisite veil, and from the edge of 
 this rose a faint moon-face, with one attendant 
 star glittering like a jewel.
 
 142 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 "How peaceful it looks, does it not, Sister 
 Kate ?" said Humbie, trembling with his own 
 temerity. 
 
 "Yes," she answered slowly; "but so far, 
 so very far away. What was it that Leah 
 read to your mother for her evening chapter 
 the night I came ? ' Peace 1 leave with you, 
 my peace I give unto you.' " 
 
 And Humbie added, speakiug very soft and 
 low : 
 
 " 'Not as the world giveth give I unto you.' 
 It is often across the stormy sea one is led to 
 the haven where one would be. I thought 
 once that I could not bear my — my being not 
 like other folk ; but I've got to love it now ; 
 it's opened so many hearts to me." 
 
 Then they went home, walking slowly, and 
 keeping silence.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AUNT LTBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 
 
 It has been said that the true, beautiful, and 
 picturesque side of life at Low Cross Farm had 
 been readily grasped and realised by John 
 Granger's young wife ; more than this, that 
 her sympathies had gone out towards the help- 
 less house-mother, to Humbie, and, in a certain 
 way, to Thomas Granger himself; while, as to 
 Leah and Rachel, what heart — unless it were 
 all as hard as the nether millstone — could have 
 been callous to their single-hearted devotion ? 
 Assuredly not Kate's. True, Miss Libbie occu- 
 pied a self-chosen position towards the young 
 bride, that made warmth either of sympathy 
 or manner impossible. 
 
 Miss Libbie believed herself to be in posses- 
 sion not only of one, but of many grievances 
 against the new comer. For one thing, John
 
 144 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 had never told her (Aunt Libbie) enough about 
 his intended bride. If he had written a wholly 
 confidential letter to her, explaining that the 
 lady whom he w-as about to marry was " like 
 the company at the Hall " ; if he had foreseen 
 difficulties, and besought her (Aunt Libbie) to 
 stand by him in these difficulties, things would 
 have worn a different aspect. But he had not 
 done these things. The silver-grey dress, the 
 curling feathers, the dainty speech of the bride, 
 had been a shock to Aunt Libbie. She had, 
 upon the instant, jumped to the conclusion 
 that Kate, despising everyone in her heart, 
 wanted to give herself airs generally, and 
 had taken up her own stand accordingly in 
 opposition. 
 
 " I am quite prepared," she had said, with a 
 toss of her head that almost unshipped the 
 solitary hairpin — " I am quite prepared for 
 brother to say he's set on Mrs John sitting 
 ahint the tea-tray." 
 
 " Oh," cried Ray, " she would never think of 
 such a thing — would she, Leah ? even if father 
 did."
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 145 
 
 This only made matters worse. 
 
 " You all sing the same song," said Miss 
 Libbie. " You can't see no wrong in her any 
 way, just because she's a fine lady. I hate 
 such ways." 
 
 This denunciation was vague enough to 
 hold some terror for the twins, accustomed to 
 Miss Libbie's rule from their toddling infancy. 
 
 They stole away to the privaey of their 
 own little chamber under the tiles, where the 
 dormer window was garlanded with flame- 
 coloured nasturtiums, and a lily stood on the 
 ledge. Ray cried, but Leah said she " didn't 
 care," and called Miss Libbie " a jealous old 
 thing ! " 
 
 o 
 
 The same evening Miss Libbie's sentiments 
 were still further made plain to the family. 
 
 Jack, to his unspeakable pride and joy, had 
 been given a little satin-lined reticule of Kate's 
 to carry. With head high in the air, and tail 
 gently swirling, he stepped as delicately and 
 mincingly along the meadow as could Agag 
 when he came to Samuel ; and the farmer, 
 simmering in restful content with his pipe, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 14G BONNIE KATE. 
 
 and Miss Libbie, occupied with a remarkably 
 obstinate hole in the heel of one of Humbie's 
 socks, watched his antics from the window of 
 the house-place. 
 
 Suddenly the tawny ears were pricked, the 
 tail lifted like a pennon, a twinkle of fun shone 
 in the golden-brown eyes, and Jack was off at 
 a canter, pursued by a flying figure all in shim- 
 mering cream-colour, with a red, red rose nest- 
 ling by a round white throat — in a word, by 
 Kate, laughing, chasing the runaway, and look- 
 ing back over her shoulder every now and 
 again at John and Humbie, who both devoured 
 with adoring eyes this new Atalanta. A beau- 
 tifully-formed woman never looks so well as 
 when — untrammelled by undue constriction in 
 her dress — she runs lightly and easily, calling 
 into play all the artistic curves and lines of 
 limb and shoulder. 
 
 Down to the edge of the larch- wood, back 
 again, round the corner of the house went the 
 chase, the farmer laying down his pipe to watch 
 the contest, the broadest of broad smiles upon 
 his ruddy face.
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 147 
 
 " Yon's a bonnie sight ! " he said. " She's a 
 bonnie lass is John's wife, and no mistake on't, 
 and none the worse for coming fro' London 
 town that I can see. She's slape as a lapwing 
 skimmin' over the grass, that she be." 
 
 " A lapwing indeed ! " said Miss Libbie ; " a 
 nice kind of thing to compare a respectable 
 married woman to. When I was a girl such 
 things were very different. You never saw 
 Susan take to such unbecoming ways, she knew 
 better, and wore her hair under a decent cap, 
 not stuck all atop of her head twisted like 
 a hayband, and bits o' curls dropping all about 
 her face." 
 
 " Tut — tut ! " said the farmer ; " it's a long 
 while back, Libbie, sin' you were a gurl, and 
 the world hasn't stood still, mind you. Let-a- 
 be — let-a-be ; let 'un run — why shouldn't her ? 
 Hoo's never be younger. It's t' fashion o' 
 young things to skip ; why, i' David's time 
 even t' little hills took a turn that way, it 
 seems, now and again ; though I must say it's 
 a bit of a botherment to know how they set 
 about it, and what the farmers in those parts
 
 148 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 thought o' their new-set fields bein' so lively. 
 As to Susan — dang it all, Libbie ! you've a 
 gift for touching the raw as I never saw 
 ekalled by man or woman, and that's a strong 
 sayin', my lass. Wouldn't I give every ear o' 
 corn i' every stack, and every blessed head o' 
 live stock on the place, to see my poor girl 
 run any kind o' way, or tak' a few steps 
 either, were they never so stumblin'-like ? 
 Her pooty feet is still enoo, God knows ! still 
 enoo — still enoo. Poor lass ! " 
 
 Do we make allowance enough for the 
 troubles of disagreeable people \ 
 
 I trow not. 
 
 It is so easy to sympathise with the trials of 
 those who are charming and interesting, and 
 have the gift of glossing over even their 
 wrong-doings till they shine with a sort of 
 delusive lustre ; but for the hard-featured, 
 hard-spoken sinner or sufferer, sympathy is a 
 more difficult commodity to reach out at and 
 grasp. 
 
 Aunt Libbie had a store of sterling qualities 
 and resolute energy that might have set up
 
 AUNT L1BBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 149 
 
 several respectable females with quite an 
 abundant store. She had " kept house " at 
 Low Cross Farm for many thrifty years ; she 
 had patched and mended, saved and managed, 
 and, in her heart of hearts dearly loving her 
 brother and his practically motherless little 
 ones, had set herself the task of filling the 
 vacant place to the best of her lights. But 
 her tongue was an unruly member, it must 
 sting, and at times the family felt as though 
 they were living in a hornet's nest. That 
 there was honey stored away somewhere all 
 the while, it was hard for them to remember. 
 
 And now, in her old age, after more than 
 sixteen years of early rising and late taking 
 rest, she found herself — or fancied she found 
 herself, which was just the same thing in 
 point of the suffering of it — set aside by a 
 chit of a thing with her hair all heaped on 
 the top of her head, and shoes with heels that 
 made a tap, tap, tap on the flagged floors as 
 she went along. 
 
 It was wonderful what a relief it was to 
 Miss Libbie to think of Kate as a " chit."
 
 150 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 She would have liked to speak of her by that 
 term to Susan. But there was something in 
 Susan's face when she spoke of " John's wife " 
 which made that impossible. 
 
 Certainly there was some excuse to be made 
 for John and Humbie. John was blind ; it 
 was a way with lovers and newly -married 
 husbands — they soon got over it, though. 
 
 Humbie was but a boy, and a bit of a fly- 
 by-night, full of dreams and fancies, as might, 
 indeed, be expected of one who had been 
 called after a man who had, from all accounts, 
 spent his life in looking through a big spy- 
 glass at the moon and stars, instead of being 
 content to know what the Bible told him 
 about them. It was all very well to till the 
 earth and gather the fruit thereof, because that 
 was useful ; but what better was a man for 
 meddling with the stars ? They were made to 
 light the earth at night-time, and did their 
 work very well when there were no clouds, if 
 only people would leave them alone, and let 
 them do their shining undisturbed. 
 
 Miss Libbie was the only one at Low Cross
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 151 
 
 who had no veneration for the family oracle, 
 Uncle Toser. She had expressed her opinion 
 pretty plainly as to the advisability of call- 
 ing an innocent baby by a heathenish, out- 
 landish name. She had been overruled. She 
 was often overruled. She was being overruled, 
 stamped upon, made little of now, by this 
 Kate-fever that had set in at the farm. 
 
 So the tears threatened to rise, and she saw 
 the meadow and the larch wood through a 
 mist. The tear that gathers in the sunken 
 eye and trickles down the furrowed cheek may 
 tell of as keen a heart-pang as the pearl that 
 bedews the lovely upturned gaze of youth and 
 beauty ; but few of us remember this ; and 
 since to Aunt Libbie's hard-lined features, the 
 effort to restrain emotion only imparted a 
 more fractious and peevish appearance, the 
 farmer became resentful. 
 
 " It's like this, Libbie," he said, tapping 
 the end of his pipe on the table to give due 
 emphasis to his words : " you canna see a 
 bonnie lass wi'out wanting to pick holes in 
 her. You've reared up John from a kid, and
 
 152 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 you canna abear to see as he loves the ground 
 yon wife of his sets her pretty foot on. You 
 used to be same wf Susan when she and I 
 were first wed. You're like sommat as has 
 gone sour wi' keepin', and makes folk's tongues 
 rough and raspy." 
 
 All the muscles of Miss Libbie's throat and 
 round her mouth began to stand out like 
 strings run tight. Prudence fled to the winds, 
 and, by a sad mischance, just at that moment 
 Kate's laugh, sweet and soft as the rippling 
 song of a thrush at sundown, rang out on the 
 still evening air, no doubt at some new freak 
 of Jack's. 
 
 Miss Libbie did not like the sound. She 
 was in a mind to think Mrs John laughed 
 purposely at a critical juncture, so unreason- 
 able will anger make us at times. 
 
 " She laughs too frivolous for a grown 
 woman. Hark at her ! " she said. 
 
 " Too frivolous ! I love to hearken 'till 
 her," answered the farmer. " She's same as 
 the birds i' the woods i' springtime. She's but 
 a young creature ; let her have her day — let
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 153 
 
 her have her day. It comes bo' once to all on 
 us." 
 
 " She's just a silly slip of a girl," continued 
 Miss Libbie. " I doubt me if she'd know when 
 a potato's fit for dishin' by the fork, or ever 
 mixed a battling cake in her life! Why, 
 brother, you could 'most span her in your two 
 hands about the middle." 
 
 " Ay, that could I," said the farmer, making 
 a circle with his mighty hands — " that could I." 
 
 " But you know, Aunt Libbie," said Humbie, 
 who had come in unawares, " it isn't the 
 biggest apples that are the sweetest, is it 
 now 1 " 
 
 Mr Granger cast a half-apprehensive glance 
 at his son. Was it possible that Uncle Toser's 
 prophecies were about to come true ? Was 
 the boy about to become a poet, a star-gazer, a 
 dreamer ? 
 
 Truly that saying about the apples looked 
 like it. It had a ring like the book of verses 
 he used to learn out of when a boy at the 
 village dame-school. He was opening his 
 mouth to speak when Miss Libbie cut in :
 
 154 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " I know nothing more than this, that a 
 pretty doll's face makes fools of the lot of you 
 — young and old ; and, as they say, there's 
 no " 
 
 " Fool like an old fool — eh ? " put in Thomas 
 Granger, chuckling. "Dang it a', Libbie, 
 thou'rt in the right of it this time. I reckon 
 the old place here hasna bin the same sin' that 
 there bonnie bird came singing round. As 
 for fools, why, t' biggest I ever heerd on wur 
 King Solomon i' the olden times, and we've all 
 took after 'un ; it's t' way on us, and we'll 
 never mend, my lass, long as t' world stands 
 — not we ! A smack o' the rosy lips, a glink 
 o' the bright eyes — that's us, and no mistake. 
 Why, I mind times when I'd walk miles and 
 miles through slush and mire just to ketch a 
 glimpse o' Humbie's mother there, and see 
 her stand bashful-like, and wi' her pretty 
 fingers teasing her apron-string, by her father's 
 door t' watch me out into the night. Ay, ay, 
 but she wur a sweet slip o' a gurl when I 
 married her — that wur she. I mind t' first 
 day our banns wur put up, she blushed red as a
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 155 
 
 poppy, and I squeedged her hand and made her 
 redder still. Ah, poor lass ! poor lass ! she wur 
 like t' poppies, prattiest i' bud, wur Susan." 
 
 Worse and worse grew things with Miss 
 Libbie. Perhaps, in her heart of hearts, she 
 had never quite forgiven her brother's wife for 
 being a life-long invalid. To her mind the 
 only proof a man or woman could give of being 
 really ill was to die. 
 
 Then the spectators felt that there was no 
 mere fancy or weak yielding about the matter. 
 Then you were able to excuse that general in- 
 ability to see after things which had formerly 
 appeared somewhat unjustifiable. You said : 
 "Ah yes. Poor So-and-so! it was a sad 
 business." 
 
 You wouldn't have pitied So-and-so with 
 such a willing mind if it had not been for that 
 last act of the drama in which he or she 
 played the principal part, and played it so 
 thoroughly. Miss Libbie had been hard and 
 unsympathetic to her brother's wife when 
 those first bitter days of helplessness and pain 
 came like a blight upon the house-mother.
 
 156 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 She did not say much, but the little jerk with 
 which she would set down a cup or a tray 
 said a good deal for her. God only knew 
 what the sweet, meek soul of Susan Granger 
 suffered ; God only saw the shining tear steal 
 down the pale cheek in the silent watches of 
 the night, and heard the quivering sigh, that 
 was in itself a wordless prayer. But Miss 
 Libbie's actions had been better than her 
 thoughts or her words. She had, to use her 
 own expression, " toiled and moiled " for 
 Thomas and the children morning, noon, and 
 night. She had eaten the bread of careful- 
 ness, and seen that others fed on the same 
 viand. She had slapped the girls when they 
 were wilful or tore their clothes, nursed them 
 when they were ill, and made them feel that 
 by being ill at all they broke an eleventh, un- 
 written commandment. She had kept the 
 servants and the men on the farm in order, 
 and ruled everyone, except the farmer himself, 
 right royally and rigidly. 
 
 The children had grown up to look to 
 " Aunt Libbie " for everything ; but all the
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 157 
 
 sweetness of their lives was garnered up in 
 " mother's room " ; all their tenderness was 
 reserved for the loving face on the pillow, the 
 wan, worn hand that touched their sunny 
 locks so lovingly ; all the music of their lives 
 lay in the low, soft voice that had ever a 
 word of comfort and cheer, that spoke so 
 seldom of sleepless nights and suffering days, 
 so often of each and every little trouble that 
 came to any one of them. 
 
 No one had ever put all these things into 
 words to Miss Libbie ; but it does not need 
 for anyone to tell us that grey clouds have 
 drifted over the blue. We feel the lack of 
 sunshine. We shiver at the chill breeze that 
 makes the aspen quiver overhead. There was 
 a softer kernel in Aunt Libbie's heart than 
 anyone had yet suspected. No hand had ever 
 touched it, but it was there. 
 
 She was conscious of something aching 
 within her as her brother spoke. All the 
 toiling and moiling of the long years seemed 
 to be counted as nothing. Susan — poor, help- 
 less, feckless Susan — held the stronghold of
 
 158 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 their hearts, and now a pigeon -voiced girl, 
 with heels that went click-clack, and hands 
 that looked as if they couldn't turn a twopenny 
 cake on the griddle for love or money, must 
 needs marry John, and come to turn the old 
 place upside down, and the men's heads with 
 it I It certainly was hard on Miss Libbie. 
 
 All these things happened on the Saturday 
 evening, the last day of a week that, despite 
 its initial stab, had not been all pain to Bonnie 
 Kate. 
 
 Beside the growing attraction of certain 
 sides of the rural life and household surround- 
 ing her, there had been sunshine from without. 
 News from the dear travellers had been bright 
 and hopeful. Aunt Cynthia already wrote as 
 though the General's illness were a thing of 
 the past. Will wrote more guardedly, but 
 still spoke of improvement and added strength 
 and energy from complete change of scene 
 and place. It was also reported Mrs Dulcimer 
 had written in the highest terms of the 
 qualities displayed by Chloe in the character 
 of a watch-clog. " Dulcimer is not in the
 
 AUNT L1BBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 159 
 
 least nervous at nights now," wrote Aunt 
 Cynthia, " which almost reconciles us to being 
 without the sweet pet, whose pretty and en- 
 gaging ways we miss at every turn/' 
 
 If the tears were ready to rise between 
 herself and the paper as Kate read these 
 home-records, she drove them bravely back. 
 She was striving her utmost to rise above the 
 pain of that first amaze — the first realisation 
 of the reality of things ; not the reality of her 
 husband's social standing — she would have 
 been but a poor creature to have let that come 
 between her love and her — but the fact that in 
 his character there existed a ring of weakness 
 that had prevented — and might still further 
 prevent — perfect trust and confidence. There 
 is no keener suffering to a woman than the 
 knowledge that the man she passionately loves 
 fails to attain to her cherished ideal of him ; 
 and to a proud, undisciplined nature like 
 Kate's such suffering was peculiarly severe. 
 Yet John was loving, chivalrous, sympathetic, 
 and ever by her side. She could not choose 
 but be happy with such sweet store of joy at
 
 160 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 hand. As for the wound, she had covered it. 
 It was not healed, only hidden, and at times 
 it smarted, but she was resolved it should not 
 steal her happiness away, nor yet embitter it. 
 
 Looking back upon the week at Low Cross 
 Farm, it seemed a year, for time goes by 
 feeling more than by the clock. How much 
 she had learned of a side of life that had 
 hitherto been a sealed book to her ! The life 
 and hopes, the ambitions and trials, of a world 
 of which she had so. far known but the mere 
 shell, had all been revealed to her. She began 
 to find herself looking at the weather as a 
 deep subject of interest, not in the con- 
 ventional way of a matter easy to dilate 
 upon, but in its relation to the crops and 
 fruits of the earth. Cows connected them- 
 selves in her mind with dairy produce. Eggs 
 and butter were no longer mere adjuncts to a 
 civilised breakfast, but things to be packed in 
 vast " wickers," sent to market, and made 
 profit on. 
 
 Kate had trimmed some simple, wide- 
 brimmed hats for the twins with cunningly-
 
 AUNT L1BBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 161 
 
 devised white tulle flutings and tiny New 
 Bond Street rosebuds, mocking Nature, and 
 straightway for Leah and Eachel the millen- 
 nium had come, while they longed, with an 
 exceeding great longing, for Sunday to follow 
 suit, in order that they might display their 
 treasures at church, the only available arena, 
 since, as it happened, no fair was " on," at any 
 adjacent village. 
 
 Tout vient a lui qui salt attenclre, and time 
 brought the dawning on which the twins 
 opened happy eyes, remembering that hats 
 and rosebuds would that day astonish Low 
 Cross not a little, and their darling " Mrs 
 John " be seen and wondered at by the 
 assembled congregation. Leah clapped her 
 hands as she lifted her ruffled red head from 
 the pillow. Ray pulled aside the blind. The 
 sun shone through the dormer window, trick- 
 ling in waves of light through the nasturtium 
 leaves ; pigeons cooed on the comb of the 
 thatch above ; swallows twittered just a little 
 below. 
 
 Kate, too, was up betimes. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 The royal morning gave her royal greet- 
 ing. She sat at the open window in the 
 wide, low window seat, putting the roses 
 back with her hand, and leaning out to 
 look over the meadow and into the farmyard 
 beyond. 
 
 There was Leah, neat and complete in a 
 gown of pale lilac cotton that fitted her un- 
 trammelled figure with a simple grace, bearing 
 a wide shallow dish in her hands. The water 
 in the dish quivered and sparkled as she set it 
 on the stones. Then she threw back her 
 ruddy head, and gave a low, prolonged call, 
 " Coo — ee ! coo — ee ! " and straightway came 
 the wafting of wings, as pigeons white and 
 pigeons blue, pigeons whose tails were fans 
 for fairies, pigeons who appeared to be suffer- 
 ing from goitre and to be proud of the fact, 
 pigeons all dappled red-brown, and under- 
 taker pigeons all deepest indigo with rings 
 of turquoise round their eyes, lighted soft as 
 snow-flakes everywhere, perching on the sides 
 of the great china-lined bowl, dropping into it, 
 struggling in it, diving one over the other with
 
 AUNT L1BB1E FEELS AGGRIEVED. 163 
 
 swift pulsation of wings and dipping of sleek 
 necks, till the water flew this way and that in 
 broken shafts of light, and you could see no 
 bowl at all, only a mass of ruffled, rustling 
 feathers and glittering dew-drops. 
 
 " What a pretty sight !" said Kate, and the 
 twins, looking up, thought that Kate herself, 
 framed in the rose- wreathed casement, was also 
 a pretty sight. 
 
 They came quickly through the yard gate 
 and on to the smooth green sward. They 
 came close, close under the window. 
 
 "Is John there?" 
 
 " Yes ; he hasn't finished dressing." 
 
 " Well,— whisper." 
 
 Kate leaned further out, and the two, speak- 
 ing as one girl, put a momentous question : 
 
 " What are you going to wear at church V 
 
 Before she could reply Ray added an item of 
 news on her own account. 
 
 " Rogers says " — Rogers was the head man 
 on the farm — " that Lord Whimperdale came 
 down to the Hall last night, and has brought 
 two ladies and a gentleman with him."
 
 .164 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 The association of ideas gave Kate a sharp 
 sting. 
 
 She was to put on her best bonnet because 
 Lord Whimperdale had seen fit to come to the 
 Hall, and bring two ladies and a " gentleman " 
 (odious word applied in such fashion !) with 
 him. She drew in her head quickly, conscious 
 of a hot flush mounting to the very parting of 
 her hair. 
 
 John's arm was round her in a moment. 
 
 "Don't let their chatter vex you, darling," 
 he said, kissing her flushed cheek tenderly. 
 " They are but silly girls, and mean no 
 harm." 
 
 " They are dear, and good, and true ; it is 
 not that." 
 
 She did not say : " It is the false position in 
 which I find myself. I am expected to make 
 a good show before people whose equal I have 
 always been, and it is natural that such a thing 
 should hurt." 
 
 She only turned aside with the little grace- 
 ful gesture of hands that he knew so well 
 — a gesture that meant the subject under
 
 AUNT LIBBIE FEELS AGGRIEVED. 165 
 
 discussion was put away into the limbo of 
 silence. 
 
 Meanwhile the twins had caught a glimpse 
 of John's dark head at the window, and 
 scudded off, knowing full well they had been 
 indiscreet. 
 
 It seemed to them a ]ong while to church- 
 time — to Kate, but a span. In vain the beauty 
 of the day wooed her ; in vain the three 
 sweet- voiced bells dropped from the church in 
 the sky ; in vain even Jack's pathetic eyes 
 sought her sympathy for the pitiful fact that 
 the family were preparing to go whither he 
 could not follow them. 
 
 Full well he knew that those dropping bells, 
 if they called the rest to go, meant that he 
 must stay at home, for never would Jack face 
 the humiliation of going up the winding hill 
 and being sent back home in the face of the 
 gathering congregation. He would far sooner 
 stay at home and harry the peacock by barking 
 at him, and making short runs at him when he 
 put his tail up and stamped with his feet ; or 
 lift Nip, the little black cat, by his head, and
 
 16G BONNIE KATE. 
 
 trail him round the meadow, by way of passing 
 the time away and taking it out of somebody. 
 
 But Jack was not always perverse. There 
 was a room at Low Cross Farm where it was 
 always Sunday ; where a Sabbath calm ever 
 brooded, and a gentle hand was always ready 
 to touch his tawny head lovingly. Thither 
 would Jack wend his way, lying all of a heap 
 on the rug beside Mrs Granger's bed until 
 footsteps and voices below made him prick up 
 his ears and give a short, sharp bark that 
 meant welcome. 
 
 Though they were conscious of indiscretion 
 in the morning, nothing could control the 
 curiosity of the twins as to Kate's attire as the 
 important hour drew near. 
 
 They were lurking in the house-place to j)eer 
 at her as she came downstairs. They looked 
 guilty, but radiant. 
 
 Only for a moment though. The next they 
 had turned towards one another almost with a 
 moan. 
 
 There was absolutely nothing to see after all 
 their watching — only the grey dress they had
 
 AUNT LIBB1E FEELS AGGRIEVED. 167 
 
 seen so often, a bit of queer-looking, yellowish 
 lace wrapped round the throat, with a pale- 
 pink rose plucked from the window at one 
 side, and, instead of the hat with its curled 
 feathers, a little snood-like bonnet to match 
 the dress, fitting the dainty head as a calyx 
 fits the flower. 
 
 " Did you ever % " said Leah's eyes to Eay's, 
 and Eay's answered back : " No, I never !"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MBS SWEETAPPLE. 
 
 In the knee-breeches and velvety corduroy 
 coat of week-days, Thomas Granger was a 
 notable and picturesque figure. The broad- 
 cloth of Sunday wear took all the charm out 
 of him. It bagged at the shoulders and 
 wrinkled at the back, and in it he was uncom- 
 fortable and ill at ease. Walking between 
 him and John up the winding road to the 
 church, Kate felt these things to be so. The 
 twins lagged behind, nursing a sense of injury at 
 Mrs John's lack of expected smartness. They 
 found some consolation, it is true, in the tulle 
 pleatings and rosebuds — foreseeing the complete 
 downfall and overthrow of the postmaster's 
 daughter — but Kate was too dear an object of 
 worship for her shortcomings not to overshadow 
 even so great a joy.
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 169 
 
 Aunt Libbie brought up the rear, attended 
 by Humbie, who always carried her large, 
 brown-backed prayer-book, and the umbrella, 
 without which she never left the farm, hail, 
 rain, or shine. 
 
 They were early arrivals, and well settled 
 in a big square pew just under the reading- 
 desk, before the " quality," as Aunt Libbie 
 had called them at breakfast, put in an appear- 
 ance, an event that occurred only just previous 
 to the Rev. Dionysius Sweetapple emerging 
 from the vestry in a procession of one, heralded 
 by the rather wheezy notes of a harmonium, 
 played by Miss Sweetapple herself. 
 
 Kate sat in the corner of honour, motioned 
 thereto by the farmer — the corner where poor 
 Susan had appeared as a bride, blushing and 
 bashful, in a white Dunstable bonnet and white 
 silk gloves, with a sprig of rosemary in her 
 neatly-folded kerchief, many a long year ago. 
 
 No one could be more unconscious than 
 Kate that by sitting where she was desired to 
 sit she had planted another arrow in Miss 
 Libbie's virgin breast. The farmer, however,
 
 170 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 was wide awake to the fact, and repeated the 
 responses in a defiant and determined manner 
 that made the twins look with round eyes 
 from beneath their rosebud hats. 
 
 Indeed, Kate had enough to do to fight 
 with a growing sense of discomfort on her own 
 part, and not even the rustic cheek of the 
 bride Susan had flickered more from pale to 
 pink, and pink to pale, than hers. 
 
 It was gradually dawning upon her that 
 she was the centre, not only of interest, but of 
 a curiosity painful in its intensity ; conscious 
 that dames and yokels in the free seats that 
 ran the complete length of the church, and 
 more pretentious Low Cross from sheep-pen- 
 like pews on this hand and on that, cast fur- 
 tive glances, or openly gaped and stared, 
 according to their lights in the matter of 
 manners. 
 
 A lady with a high nose and long upper 
 lip, and a bonnet that all the flowers of the 
 field had apparently combined to decorate, 
 and whose wiry form was draped in that 
 most lamentable female garment yclept a dol-
 
 MRS SWEET APPLE. 171 
 
 man, seemed wholly unable to chain her atten- 
 tion to her prayer-book. She had a pew all 
 to herself, and every now and then glared at 
 the choir (who surrounded Miss Sweetapple, 
 as bees cluster about their queen), as an excuse 
 to give Kate a good rouDd stare en passant. 
 
 Leah bent forward on pretence of giving 
 Mrs John a hymn-book. " Mrs Sweetapple," 
 she said in a pig's whisper. Kay twitched her 
 sister s sleeve. She saw that Kate was not 
 caring for such information, and doubtless 
 thought Leah was behaving badly in church. 
 
 Sitting there with the blinding sunshine 
 playing hide-and-seek through the dulled green, 
 lattice-paned windows, with birds chirping out 
 among the gravestones, and the wheezy har- 
 monium giving forth spasmodic blasts that died 
 away with a startling suddenness quite un- 
 attainable by any other description of instru- 
 ment ; and with the farmer breathing heavily, 
 uneasily, and John beside her grave and 
 troubled, Kate felt as if life were indeed press- 
 ing heavily down on her young head, felt, in 
 truth, much in the position of the man to whom
 
 172 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 we are told the grasshopper is a burden. Miss 
 Libbie's Sunday bonnet may have been said to 
 represent that insect not inaptly, with its large, 
 pale apple-green bows like wings on either 
 side, and its strangling strings tied unnaturally 
 tight, as though to prevent it flying away. 
 Brown thread gloves had suggested themselves 
 to Miss Libbie as a chaste and suitable adjunct 
 to this marvellous headgear, and, it is needless 
 to say, were an added trial to Kate, more 
 especially when they grated against the leaves 
 of the big prayer-book, and set her teeth on 
 edge. The heat and burden of the day may 
 oppress us, but it is the sting of the gnat that 
 seems the hardest thing to bear. 
 
 As the service went on, the attention of the 
 Eector visibly wandered from his book to the 
 strange lamb of his flock ; a weakness atoned 
 for by an angry shove to his spectacles, and a 
 gruffer appeal to the Almighty to forgive the 
 sins of himself and the congregation in general. 
 
 In the pew in the gallery that had a niche 
 all to itself, Kate, in common with all Low 
 Cross, had the satisfaction of seeing Lord
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 173 
 
 Whimperdale. He still retained the erect 
 carriage of a guardsman, and the long, sweep- 
 ing cavalry moustache was snow white. His 
 cast of feature was that typified by the hawk 
 or eagle, if you could imagine either bird with 
 a glass in one eye, and its head feathers 
 cropped close. 
 
 Lord Whimperdale scanned the congregation 
 a moment with this eye-glass, as though 
 casually to ascertain whether all his tenants 
 were present, and then, as if by accident, 
 allowed himself to focus for a moment the 
 slight figure in grey in the corner of Farmer 
 Granger's pew, ere, with a skilful movement 
 of the muscles round the eye, he dropped the 
 glass into his hand. Seizing a convenient 
 moment he whispered a word or two to his 
 gentle-faced wife, and she, noting that Kate's 
 eyes were cast down, looked long — one 
 would almost have said tenderly — at the girl- 
 wife. 
 
 Assuredly some pity lay in the depths of the 
 tender, motherly face of Lady Whimperdale ; 
 a look familiar enough even in the humblest
 
 174 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 cottage in Low Cross, whenever sorrow or 
 suffering crossed the threshold. 
 
 The two women and one man whose advent 
 at the Hall had already been heralded at 
 sunrise by Leah, were such pleasant, refined- 
 lookinof folk as Kate had been in the habit of 
 seeing day by day in the Kow, or on the river, 
 or of meeting at " at homes " or dinners ; well- 
 dressed people with a distinct yet quiet air of 
 fashion ; the man looking as if he had just 
 sauntered down New Bond Street or Piccadilly, 
 and might be expected to call a hansom from 
 sheer forgetfulness when he got outside the 
 lych-gate. 
 
 It was strange the thrill and the exaggerated 
 idea of the passage of time which the sight of 
 these people gave to Kate. They seemed a 
 part of the old life from which she had tra- 
 velled so far. True, John was quite as well- 
 bred-looking and twice as good-looking as the 
 stranger. The surroundings of the farm-house 
 life had appeared quite as incongruous for him 
 at first as for herself. Then the beauty of 
 some aspects of it had laid hold of her, and the
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 175 
 
 jar and discord had dwindled. Now she was 
 brought, as it were, face to face, in an entirely 
 new and false position, with those hitherto her 
 own equals and associates. She thought how 
 these people would be discussed at the mid-day 
 dinner ; how every item of their attire and 
 demeanour would be commented upon with 
 the greatest gusto by the twins, and with 
 reluctant enjoyment by Miss Libbie ; how the 
 farmer would chuckle over the " lassies " being 
 so taken up with the grand company at the 
 Hall ; how Humbie would keep silence, and 
 John would writhe under the fire of words he 
 could not still, since no one would have the 
 remotest idea why he should wish to do so. 
 
 She had been so bright and happy all the 
 week — that was, after the first crisis ; she had 
 grown to know and love " John's people " just 
 as they were — not as they looked when 
 brought into juxtaposition with the world to 
 which she herself belonged. Unconsciously 
 Kate raised her eyes and looked with a strange 
 pathetic w^istfulness at Lady Whimperdale. 
 There was something about her that reminded
 
 176 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 her of Aunt Cynthia : a certain fall of the 
 shoulders under the black-lace cloak that 
 showed glints of lavender here and there, and 
 in the simple black-lace bonnet with its aigrette 
 of lavender ostrich -tips. But Lady Whimper- 
 dale's face was stronger than Aunt Cynthia's ; 
 the dark, straight brows, and calm, observant 
 eyes looking out from under bands of soft, 
 white crimped hair, made it beautiful to look 
 upon. It was a face to trust, as well as to 
 love and cherish as something sweet and 
 precious. 
 
 When the Eector's discourse was at an end, 
 and the wheezy harmonium was haltingly and 
 fitfully breathing out a sacred march, to the 
 sound of which the congregation stepped 
 briskly out into the sunshine, Lady Whimper- 
 dale looked back at the square pew below as 
 she turned to follow her guests. Kate, by a 
 strange coincidence, looked up at the same 
 moment, and a strange feeling came over her 
 as of having recognised a friend, though no- 
 where in this world had she met those calm, 
 soft eyes before.
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 177 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was wont to thank her stars 
 emphatically and often that she had "no non- 
 sense about her." Whether her friends were 
 equally grateful for this fact is doubtful, since, 
 being interpreted, it meant that she gave 
 thanks to Heaven in that she possessed less 
 delicacy and refinement than her neighbours, 
 and had none of that dread of hurting other 
 people's feelings that is one of the saving 
 restraints of civilised life. 
 
 She was a woman who not only put her 
 foot down when she wanted to get her own 
 way, but did not care what she trampled upon 
 in the process. It may be said that she made 
 a regular door-mat of her husband in this 
 respect, contradicting him almost every time 
 he opened his mouth, her only regret being 
 that this was impossible on Sundays' during 
 sermon time. Then the Kector had to have 
 his say, coiUe que cotlte, and people were unkind 
 enough to say that he occasionally cast defiant 
 glances down from the proud eminence of the 
 high three-decker, under which Mrs Sweet- 
 apple grew restless and red. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 The people of Low Cross dreaded Mrs 
 Sweetapple unspeakably, and never said they 
 were ill, if they could help it, when she came 
 on her visiting rounds, since she always set 
 herself to prove to them that their ailments 
 were the result of pure perversity, and only 
 continued through obstinate mismanagement. 
 This was not a cheering attitude to take 
 towards the sick poor ; but Mrs Sweetapple 
 prided herself upon it as tending to prove the 
 fact that she had " no nonsense about her." 
 
 But even the mightiest are vulnerable in one 
 spot. Mrs Sweetapple could turn, and twist, 
 and manage everyone except her own daughter. 
 Melissa was too much for her. Melissa baffled 
 her. Melissa had about as much appreciation 
 of the fifth commandment as a young rook ; 
 was candid and outspoken to a fault ; and was 
 looked upon as a natural curiosity by the 
 simple-minded peasantry and toilers in the 
 yellow ironstone pits. They would be coming 
 home all powdery with irou stone, and stand 
 with open mouth and eyes to see her pass. 
 
 " Bean't she now?" they would say; a
 
 MRS SWEET APPLE. 179 
 
 remark that left much to the imagination, yet 
 appeared to convey a great deal to the hearer ; 
 " an' doan't she manage t' oud ooman neither V 
 a concluding phrase that it was well Mrs 
 Sweetapple did not hear, or she might have 
 had a fit of some sort on the spot. 
 
 Melissa was given to bright clothing, and it 
 became her as gorgeous plumage becomes a 
 bird, for she was tall and slight, with a thin, 
 aquiline face, and large, dark, near-sighted 
 eyes, which she had an odd manner of shutting 
 when she spoke, as if the light were too strong 
 for them. It saved her a great deal of trouble, 
 this same trick of hers, enabling her to ignore 
 many things that it might have been incon- 
 venient to recognise. 
 
 To watch Mrs Sweetapple and her daughter 
 when together was to be irresistibly reminded 
 of a hen who has hatched a duckling, and is 
 ceaselessly in fear of what it may do next. 
 Without Melissa, Mrs Sweetapple was a 
 different woman ; with her, some people were 
 kind enough to say she was like a coach with 
 the drag on.
 
 180 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 On the present occasion, Mrs Sweetapple 
 wished to have a quiet, uninterrupted stare at 
 young Mrs Granger ; therefore she took her 
 stand outside the lych-gate, and, like a lion in 
 the path, barred the way of the party from 
 the farm. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr Granger," she said, in 
 her sharp, high-pitched voice ; a salutation 
 which the individual in question returned by 
 a hurried touch of his hat and a still more 
 hurried advance onwards ; Miss Libbie, after 
 a stiff, old-fashioned curtsy to the Rector's 
 wife, followed suit. 
 
 The twins had slipped by in a most ingenious 
 manner, and were half-way down the hill, 
 calmly taking stock of the Hall people as they 
 waited for their carriage at the foot. For 
 John and his wife there was no escape. Mrs 
 Sweetapple had the former by the hand in a 
 moment. 
 
 " How are you ? " she said, never taking her 
 eyes off Kate for an instant. " Glad to see 
 you up north. Introduce me to your wife." 
 
 John performed the ceremony, and Kate
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 1 8 1 
 
 bowed, but something in the salutation vexed 
 the righteous soul of Mrs Sweetapple, who 
 gave a little sort of jerk, as if she had a spring 
 in the middle of her body. 
 
 Melissa was presented, opened her eyes to 
 recognise Mrs John Granger, and apparently 
 fell into a state of semi-consciousness again. 
 Kate thought that perhaps her efforts on the 
 asthmatic harmonium had been too much for 
 her. She was not, at this stage of affairs, 
 aware that it was Miss Sweetapple's " way." 
 
 " You are fortunate in the weather for your 
 visit to our village," said the Eector's wife 
 with acidulated sweetness, glancing patronis- 
 ingly round on church and mellowing woods, 
 on earth and sky, as though she had had a 
 hand in the making of them all ; then, without 
 waiting for a reply, she continued glibly : 
 " By the way, I wonder who those people with 
 the Whimperdales are ? " Mrs Sweetapple 
 always spoke of Lord Whimperdale and his 
 wife as " the Whimperdales." It impressed 
 the common herd, and conveyed a subtle and 
 absolutely fallacious idea of her being on
 
 182 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 quite friendly, if not intimate, terms with 
 them. 
 
 " Two of them are the Charlton-Medways," 
 said Kate, quietly. 
 
 " What — the artist ? " said John, interested 
 in all that concerned art or literature. " Do 
 you know them, dear ? " 
 
 " Only by sight ; they were pointed out to 
 me one day at Hurlingham." 
 
 " Of course, of course. How stupid of me 
 not to recognise them," said Mrs Sweetapple, 
 with a toss of her head, that made the flowers 
 in her bonnet nod as if a hurricane were 
 passing by. 
 
 Melissa half closed her eyes, and threw her 
 head back. 
 
 " I don't think we ever heard of them down 
 here ; but it is interesting to see them if they 
 have done anything remarkable.'' 
 
 The peculiar drawling intonation, the mono- 
 tonous voice, robbed the words of any apparent 
 viciousness, yet took the wind out of Mrs 
 Sweetapple's sails effectually. 
 
 " Down here ! " said the lady, irate. " You 
 talk as if we lived at the back of the world."
 
 MRS SWEETAPPLE. 183 
 
 " So we do," remarked Melissa, sweetly. 
 
 Her mother feigned deafness. 
 
 " If you would like at any time, Mis John," 
 she said, addressing Kate, " to walk round the 
 Rectory garden, I am sure the Rector and 
 myself would be very glad. Our dahlias are 
 considered remarkably fine." 
 
 " I wouldn't come if I were you," said 
 Melissa ; " there's nothing to see." 
 
 The small — very small — bow which Kate 
 vouchsafed in answer to Mrs Sweetapple's 
 genial invitation, amused Melissa incredibly. 
 She gave a short little laugh, abrupt and 
 unmusical, though there was no smile upon 
 her face. 
 
 " Isn't the house-place at the Farm the most 
 delightful room in the world ? " she said, flash- 
 ing a look upon Kate. " I shall come and see 
 you there to-morrow, if I may." 
 
 " My wife will be delighted to see you at 
 any time, Miss Sweetapple," said John. 
 
 Then he doffed his hat, Kate bowed, and 
 the two passed on together. Mrs Sweetapple 
 looked after them for a moment, and then set
 
 184 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 off at a brisk pace towards the Rectory, totally 
 ignoring Melissa's presence. 
 
 She had learnt by experience that this was 
 a far wiser way of showing her displeasure 
 than engaging in a war of words with an 
 adversary so dangerous. The frugal and un- 
 comfortable Sunday midday meal was on the 
 table. Cold meat, bread, and a dish of radishes. 
 
 We have spoken of the sorrows of dis- 
 agreeable jDeople ; let us now touch upon the 
 good qualities of disagreeable people. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was a bitter morsel to most, 
 but she scraped and pared her household 
 expenses, and wore shabby black silk and a 
 dolman made out of a Paisley shawl, to send 
 her sons to a public school and Oxford if 
 possible, thus giving them the education of 
 scholars and gentlemen. Her story is no new 
 one. All over the United Kingdom the same 
 tale repeats itself: out of the wretched pit- 
 tance which the Church gives to so many of 
 her hard-working servants, means must be 
 found to educate Arthur, George, or Augustus, 
 as the case may be ; and cheerfully and without 
 a murmur is the sacrifice laid upon the
 
 MRS SWEET APPLE. 185 
 
 domestic altar. I doubt very much if there 
 is any class of people amongst us who so 
 patiently and practically act up to the divine 
 command, " Take up thy cross," as the wives 
 of our ill-paid clergy. 
 
 This may seem a digression ; but in reality 
 it is not so. It is a touch needed to complete 
 Mrs Sweetapple's personality ; a bit of light 
 gleaming among the shadows, without which 
 the picture would be an unfinished portrait. 
 
 " That sermon of yours was quite five 
 minutes too long this morning. I noticed — 
 I really could not help doing so — how the 
 attention of the people wandered. Mr Charl- 
 ton-Medway, the celebrated artist, you know, 
 who was in the Whimperdales' pew, yawned 
 twice behind his glove." 
 
 Now if there is anything more calculated 
 than another to take the edge off your appe- 
 tite, however keen, it is the fact being brought 
 home to you that your eloquent discourse, 
 just delivered, has been a deathly failure. 
 
 Poor Mr Sweetapple tried in vain to look 
 jaunty under the infliction, and to crop his 
 radish with an air of indifference. Melissa,
 
 186 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 whose buoyant finery, it may as well be said 
 once for all, owed its origin to her own deft 
 fingers, she having the good of the two absent 
 " boys " as much at heart as her father or 
 mother, was a bright spot among the greeny- 
 greys of the faded room, in her rose-coloured 
 nun's-veiling gown, with puffed sleeves, and 
 shady hat to match. There was a strange, 
 close bond of sympathy between this sleek- 
 headed slip of a girl and her heavy-looking 
 stolid father. Doubtless he envied her cour- 
 age, and watched her victories over the com- 
 mon enemy with admiration tempered by 
 awe. Now she drew out the fingers of her 
 long tan-coloured gloves (a present from an 
 aunt in London), looking at them with her 
 head on one side as if she wasn't quite sure if 
 they were part of her toilette or not. 
 
 "If Mr What's-his-name yawned, pa, I ex- 
 pect it was the harmonium did it. I'm sure I 
 don't wonder. The more Matthew Goldstraw 
 blows into it, the less comes out of it, no mat- 
 ter how I squeeze the crazy old notes. I wish 
 Lady Whimperdale would give us a new one."
 
 MRS SWEET APPLE. 187 
 
 " We ought to have recognised Mr — ahem ! 
 — Charlton -Med way," said Mrs Sweetapple, 
 whose mind was absorbed by one topic only. 
 
 "But we didn't," put in Melissa in her 
 monotone. 
 
 " There must have been portraits of him in 
 the illustrated papers and things." 
 
 " We never see them." 
 
 " Of course we cannot afford to take expen- 
 sive papers in regularly." 
 
 "We cant afford to take them in at all. 
 What would become of the boys at Clifton if 
 we took it into our heads to go into expenses 
 of that sort ? Besides, what does it matter ? 
 It was very nice that young Mrs Granger 
 could tell us all about it." 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple looked less rampant for a 
 moment, and her hard face softened. Won- 
 derful thing the power of mother love to 
 beautify even the plainest of women ! 
 
 " Of course," she said, " Melissa is quite 
 right about the boys ; there are many things 
 that we should like to do that we have to give 
 up. Of course Harry's scholarship will now
 
 188 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 be a help, and, when Charlie has taken his 
 First at Oxford, things will be quite different. 
 We shall be able to go to the seaside every 
 autumn — how many years is it, Eector, since 
 we have been at the seaside ? Not since 
 Harry had the measles when he was seven, if 
 my memory serves me right \ " 
 
 They were all on common ground. The 
 boys drew all three hearts to one centre, and 
 the Eector, a man of peace, smiled as he 
 munched his cold beef, and thought with 
 self-complacent Agag, that, for that meal 
 at least, surely the bitterness of death was 
 past ! 
 
 Not so, however ; for Mrs John Granger was 
 soon thrown on to the conversational tapis as 
 an apple of discord. 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs Sweetapple, leaning 
 across the table towards the nominal head of 
 the house, to give emphasis to her words, " I 
 was very much annoyed this morning." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm very sorry," said the Rector, 
 "that anyone should anuoy you, Penelope; I 
 hope they won't do it again."
 
 MKS SWEETAPPLE. 189' 
 
 "You're always being annoyed by some- 
 body, ma," put in Melissa sweetly. 
 
 " How can you say such a thing 1 " replied 
 the other tartly. " I can tell you that if 
 everyone were as slow to take offence as I am, 
 the world would be a more peaceable place 
 than it is." 
 
 The Rector stole a look at his daughter, and 
 was sorry for it the next minute. He was con- 
 scious that a long course of snubbing had 
 somewhat impaired his manliness. He some- 
 times found himself wondering if he could 
 ever really have stroked his college boat, and 
 played in the 'Varsity team. 
 
 Such " doughty deeds " seemed very far 
 from his present personality, certainly, and he 
 had got into a bad way of looking to a girl to 
 fight for him the battle he was not equal to 
 himself. 
 
 " It is bad enough," continued Mrs Sweet- 
 apple, airing her grievance, "to be annoyed, 
 but worse still to feel that one's family take no 
 interest in it, and — don't care." 
 
 These last two words were said with a sort
 
 190 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 of gasping choke, a sound most familiar to the 
 ears of the Eector and his daughter, and 
 ofttimes a sign of still worse things to come. 
 
 " Who said I didn't care ? " began the 
 the former feebly ; and, to his own undoing, 
 taking a second radish from the dish. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple metaphorically pounced 
 upon him in a moment. 
 
 "Not another radish, Eector! Do have 
 some consideration for your state during ser- 
 vice this afternoon ; you'll be doubled up with 
 heartburn, and wheeze like a bellows." 
 
 " My dear " began the poor man. 
 
 But she kept a stern eye upon him, and, 
 as though under some mesmeric influence, he 
 slowly placed the coveted root back on the dish. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Penelope," he said, 
 sighing. 
 
 "Perhaps!" she cried; "perhaps! Did 
 you ever know me wrong yet about your 
 digestive powers, or rather, I should say, lack 
 of digestive powers ? I believe, I solemnly do 
 believe, that if you hadn't me always at your 
 elbow you'd die in a year, or even less !"
 
 MRS SWEET APPLE. 191 
 
 "What annoyed you, ma?" put in Melissa, 
 as if no discussion as to the Rector's diet were 
 being carried on ; " You haven't told us yet, 
 you know." 
 
 " What annoyed me ? Why, young Mrs 
 Granger's manner, to be sure. Her manner was 
 intolerable — simply intolerable. A farmer's 
 daughter, and taking upon herself airs !" 
 
 " My dear, my dear, not exactly a farmer's 
 daughter," interrupted the Rector, not without 
 some show of heat. " I saw the marriage in 
 the paper, and her father was a Colonel 
 Sinclair, a V.C. She is the niece of " 
 
 " I don't care who she is the niece of ; she 
 has married Thomas Granger's son, and she 
 must abide by her bargain. I am a woman 
 who never will stand any nonsense from anyone, 
 and I tell you a farmer's son's wife is a 
 farmer's daughter." 
 
 " She's just lovely," chaunted Melissa, her 
 head thrown back, and her eyes quite closed 
 this time. 
 
 "But, my dear," continued the Rector, in 
 evident dismay, " John Granger is a member
 
 192 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 of the junior bar, and ]ooked upon as a very, 
 rising young man." 
 
 " Well, I wish he'd rise at once, and have 
 done with it then. I hate people who shilly- 
 shally over things ; but if he w o1 ked on stilts 
 up and down the London streets it wouldn't 
 make him a bit the less Thomas Granger's son ; 
 and what I say is this, if he had been taught 
 his catechism properly as a child, he would 
 never have flown in the face of Providence 
 in the way he has. Don't tell me about 
 that nonsensical old person they call Uncle 
 Toser. r don't believe a word of it ! It's all 
 just sinful pride, and I feel called upon to 
 bring this young woman to a true sense of her 
 position. I am not one to shrink from respon- 
 sibilities, as you know. The position which I 
 hold as the wife of the rector of this parish 
 brings responsibilities with it, and I ask you, 
 have I ever shrunk from them?" 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear — certainly not," 
 said Mr Sweetapple, digging the spoon hard 
 into the cold rice-padding. 
 
 "Mr Sweetapple, am I or am I not, your wife ? "
 
 MKS SWEETAPPLE. 193 
 
 "Certainly, my dear — certainly," said the 
 gentleman in question, with an air of the 
 deepest conviction. 
 
 "That being so, is it — can it be tolerated 
 for a moment that I should be — well, so to 
 speak, trampled upon by young Mrs Granger ? " 
 
 " She was just lovely," put in Melissa. 
 
 " I shall tajce the first opportunity of bring- 
 ing her to a sense of her position," said Mrs 
 Sweetapple. 
 
 " I know no one so capable of making- 
 anyone feel their position as yourself, my 
 dear," said the Rector suavely, peering near- 
 sightedly over his rice-pudding, and wondering 
 if it would be possible to secure a bit of pastry 
 without being baulked in the endeavour. 
 
 Melissa rose to leave the table, singing softly 
 as she went : 
 
 " I saw her but a moment, 
 
 Yet methinks I see her now, 
 With a wreath of orange blossoms 
 Around her fair young brow. ..." 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple tapped the table sharply 
 with her finger. 
 
 70L. I. N
 
 194 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Melissa, that's not a Sunday song." 
 
 " Isn't it ?" replied Melissa innocently from 
 half-way upstairs. " It's too pretty for week- 
 days, anyway." 
 
 " My dear," said the Eector's wife, " I fear 
 Melissa is going to be troublesome about young 
 Mrs Granger." 
 
 And to this the Rector made no reply.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 
 
 As a woman is often the most charming when 
 the touch of autumn just tinges the summer 
 of her life, so it is with the year. Day by 
 day it seemed to Kate that the world of Low 
 Cross grew more perfect and more beautiful. 
 On the cottage roofs the patches of ragwort 
 showed like gaudy mosaic work. The gorse 
 on the hillsides burned and flamed more and 
 more intensely, till its masses of bloom dazzled 
 the eye to look upon. The Low Cross brook, 
 that was almost a young river, stretching 
 across the meads and through the woods like 
 a silver thread, was all strewn with long trails 
 of a wonderful water-weed, that bore count- 
 less white starry blossoms among its greenery 
 Here and there the water was tinged with 
 brown, against which little flecks of white
 
 196 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 foam, brought down from the steep hills where 
 the stream had its source, showed up bravely, 
 and from its banks hart's-tongue fronds, heavy 
 with seed, bent lovingly above the ripples. 
 The golden fans of the chestnut came flutter- 
 ing down, floating along, very boats for fairies, 
 and the nodding rose-briar made the water 
 blush with its bright reflection. 
 
 There is, however, one notable difference 
 between the early summer and the early 
 autumn. The beauty of the latter is a silent 
 loveliness compared with the former, for then 
 does "no bird sing" save Eobin, whose lilt- 
 ing is apt to be a solo, except when inter- 
 rupted by the cry of the shrike, or the twitter- 
 ing of the swallows as they cling beneath the 
 eaves and against the thatch, tremulous with 
 the longing for flight. The jubilant choir of 
 thrush and blackbird, t]±e dominant note 'of 
 the chiff-chaff or yellowhammer — these are 
 hushed, and only the babble of the brook sings 
 a lullaby to ripening fields sleeping in the sun- 
 shine. The world is resting on the brow of 
 the hill ere it begins to descend the slope that
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 197 
 
 leads to the valley of sleep and snow. The 
 pale plumes of the queen of the meadow nod 
 lazily in the slumberous warmth, and the 
 purple loosestrife bends its slender spire as 
 the velvet-coated bee rustles into the heart 
 of its massed flowerets. 
 
 To all these beauties of autumnal Nature 
 were added in Low Cross village many peculiar 
 charms. I have said before that our northern 
 counties are the home of music, and that in 
 the best of all senses — namely, that music is 
 enshrined in the hearts of the people ; not 
 merely taught as an accomplishment, but 
 loved from early childhood. As the flowers 
 in the cottage garden delight the 'eye, so the 
 harmonies of Haydn and Beethoven delight 
 the ear of the northcountry working-man and 
 his children. "Daddy's fiddle" is an object 
 of as much veneration as a relic in the peasant- 
 home of a Catholic country ; and to see it 
 wrapped in a red silk handkerchief and laid in 
 its case, is to feel that no baby being laid in 
 its cradle could have greater care and thought 
 bestowed upon it.
 
 198 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 To Kate, with eye to see, ear to hear, and 
 heart to love all beauties alike of Nature and 
 art, the many village rambles and field walks 
 with John were an intense pleasure. What 
 could be lovelier, she used to think, than to 
 saunter by the lichen-covered cross on the 
 green while the golden light of evening bathed 
 the quaint old houses in its glow, and through 
 the curve of the hills you could see the sweep 
 of the purple wolds — infinite stretches of 
 meadow-land, stirring like a restless sea as 
 the breeze touched the grass ? What more 
 complete than to gaze on such fair sights 
 as a larch wood gleaming in the sun, or 
 a group of grey-blue pines each wearing a 
 pale crown of cones, and at the same time 
 to catch the distant sound of some such 
 melody as " With verdure clad," played with 
 exquisite delicacy and feeling, floating from 
 a cottage casement set back upon its 
 hinge ? 
 
 "John," said Kate, as they two returned 
 late one afternoon from such a ramble, "there 
 have been things in Low Cross that I shall
 
 MELISSA. IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 199 
 
 never forget ; calm and beautiful times that 
 will I am sure be a help to one always — even 
 only to remember." 
 
 " ' Thank God for those dear golden days, 
 That help us through the rest/ " 
 
 replied John, quoting. "Is that what you 
 mean, Kate ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, pressing his arm closer to 
 her side ; " we must not hope for such long 
 walks together every day when work begins 
 again — must we, dear ? n 
 
 " Hardly, but they will be something to 
 think of," he said, with that wonderfully sweet 
 smile, that had gone far to win her heart in 
 the days of their first meeting. 
 
 It had not entered into Kate's mind then 
 to connect such sweetness in a man with 
 weakness ; but a physiognomist might have 
 warned her. 
 
 Would she have been warned ? 
 
 I trow not ; for surely never had the 
 glamour of love so dazzled a maiden's eyes as 
 it had those of Bonnie Kate.
 
 200 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 John had a way of saying very little and 
 yet conveying a great deal. The out ..nee, 
 
 and the smile with which it was uttered, 
 seemed to tell how sweet and precious had 
 been these woodland wanderings to him, and 
 Kate was silent awhile because her heart was 
 full. 
 
 They paced slowly on id silence, — happy 
 for the time being. Sunday, with all its dis- 
 comfort and its trial, lay two days back now. 
 Kate had forgotten — or nearly so — the bitter- 
 ness, the sense of unseemliness in things. 
 Even her sense of humour and love of the droll 
 side of life had come to her rescue. That 
 j>roposal of Mrs Sweetapple's that she should 
 take a walk round the Kectory garden and look 
 at the dahlias — how Will would throw his 
 head back, rumple his bright locks with 
 both his hands, and roar with laughter at the 
 notion ! 
 
 If she hadn't made up her mind not to say 
 one word to her own belongings that could 
 militate against John's people and surround- 
 ings she would tell Will about the dahlias.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 201 
 
 It would never do to tell Aunt Cynthia under 
 any *** Linstances. That dear lady's wrath 
 would be unspeakable. 
 
 Thinking these thoughts, she had let the 
 trouble pass. Indeed, it would have been 
 easy to let any trouble pass, for another bright- 
 winged messenger had flown across " the silver 
 sea" — a still better account of the General had 
 made her heart light. Aunt Cynthia was 
 evidently living in a sort of ecstasy. She 
 even began to ridicule, in a gentle, tentative 
 way, their past anxieties and perturbations. 
 " We let ourselves be too easily frightened," 
 she wrote. " I watch my dear brother, and 
 feel that we gave ourselves much needless 
 concern ; by which folly, I fear, we depressed 
 him not a little. Oh, my dear Kate, how 
 much I wish you were here to see for yourself ! 
 Your dear letters are so interesting, and I read 
 them aloud. We all seem to know quite 
 intimately the little church on the hill, and 
 the beautiful 'beck,' with its garlands of 
 flowers. It is very charming that your new 
 young brother plays the violin so well, and
 
 202 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 makes Will feel that his banjo is quite, 
 as he says, put into the shade. The clear 
 boy is very well, and a great favourite 
 with everyone — this of course ; but — quite 
 between ourselves — I may tell you that he 
 does not seem to enter into my enthusiasm 
 about his uncles recovery as warmly as I 
 could wish. Perhaps this apparent indifference 
 on his part is only the affected indifference so 
 much in vogue and so deeply to be regretted 
 among the young men of the present day. I 
 kuow that our dear Will has a heart of gold ; 
 indeed, when I reproached him ever so little 
 the other day for this lack of warmth, I saw 
 the tears come into his eyes. We continue to 
 have good accouuts of Chloe, so there is no 
 drawback to our enjoyment of this lovely place 
 and climate." 
 
 " Will always was rather given to taking 
 a gloomy view of Uncle Anthony's health — 
 always" said Kate, after she had read aloud 
 this effusion to her husband. 
 
 " Was he ? " said John, aware that she 
 expected some comment on the subject.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 203 
 
 " Why, you know he was. I have told you 
 so twenty times." 
 
 " How stupid of me ! " 
 
 They had lingered by the little stone bridge 
 across the brook, where the water flowing 
 beneath their feet ran like molten silver in 
 the garish light. John leant upon the moss- 
 pied parapet, looking down at the ripples as 
 they passed. 
 
 " Kate," he said suddenly, " will you be 
 sorry to leave Low Cross % " 
 
 Kate drew her breath a little quickly. 
 
 " Yes ; more than all, sorry to leave your 
 mother — mine, too, is she not ? " 
 
 They were all alone in that quiet nook, and 
 he bent and laid his lips against the long, 
 slender, nervous hand that lay against the 
 grey stones. 
 
 His touch was always a joy to Kate, a spell 
 he never lost for her even in the sorry days 
 yet to come ; for, through anger, and mis- 
 understanding, and estrangement, Kate still 
 passionately loved her husband. The only 
 mistake she made was that her love did not
 
 204 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 mount quite high enough — did not rise to lov- 
 ing even his faults and failings as being parts 
 of himself. 
 
 She was conscious of a little pang as his lips 
 rested on her fingers ; conscious of reservations 
 between John and herself, of the stirring of a 
 buried wrong ; and, in some subtle way, con- 
 scious at the same time of a falling in herself 
 from the standard she had set herself to live 
 up to before the jar in the harmonies of her life 
 had come about. 
 
 They two could not now speak to each 
 other " with naked hearts " as once they had 
 done. The veil was as yet but a thin one 
 that made the barrier, but it was there. 
 Watching the water as it flowed, watching 
 the flower-wreaths tremble with the current, 
 John Granger had a mighty longing in his 
 heart to speak out once and for all upon the 
 subject that Kate had willed should be buried 
 in a shroud of silence. She had put it aside 
 as a thing she could not bear to dwell upon. 
 Would it not be best, even at the cost of some 
 pain to herself and to him, to face the bitter-
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 205 
 
 ness, and — if only it might so be — wipe it out 
 for ever ? 
 
 But he loved her so that he dreaded to hear 
 her put her pain into words ; he shrank from 
 looking into her face and seeing her sorrow 
 and her trouble written there as in an open 
 book. He knew her well enough to be sure of 
 her perfect candour, her intense reality. If 
 she thought him wrong she would say so, 
 yearning over him and pitying him the while, 
 as a mother pities the child she chides, yet not 
 sparing him one word of the truth, and letting 
 him see, only too clearly, all the pain his lack 
 of trust in her and in her love for him had 
 caused her. This was what he dreaded most 
 — the laying bare of Kate's sorrow. Well 
 would it have been had he obeyed the impulse 
 to speak out all that was in his heart. But he 
 forbore, shielding his own weakness by recall- 
 ing Kate's command to keep silence. As to 
 Kate, a quiver shook her as the wind shakes 
 an aspen as she intuitively felt their near 
 approach to touching upon the subject of 
 John's one act of disingenuousness towards her.
 
 20G BONNIE KATE. 
 
 We have all felt the keen cutting pain of 
 realising that one we love with all our heart 
 and all our strength has acted, even in but a 
 small thing, treacherously towards us. No 
 cure exists on earth for that pain ; it can only 
 be endured and lived down. It is not that we 
 are unforgiving, neither revenge nor resent- 
 ment may be in our hearts ; it is not that we 
 will not, but that we cannot feel as we felt 
 before. We would quiet our own pain gladly 
 if we could, but something is killed, it lies 
 there dead, it will not live again. We would 
 put back the clock and be as we were wont to 
 be before we were deceived ; but no one, not 
 even God, can give us back our yesterdays. 
 The knowledge that to-day has brought has 
 blotted out the sunshine that can never shine 
 with so pure and unsullied a radiance again. 
 Kate knew instinctively that John had hovered 
 on the brink of speech ; she knew it by the 
 nervous shrinking in herself, of which he too 
 w T as conscious. 
 
 But the next moment the risk of words was 
 over.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 207 
 
 "Kate," he said, as they passed from the 
 bridge and turned their faces homewards, " I 
 think your coming to Low Cross has been to 
 my mother what no one can say." 
 
 "I am so glad ; knowing her has been to me 
 what I can hardly say." 
 
 "She spoke of you to me last night — the 
 first time she has said much. She said, 'At 
 eventide it shall be light. It is eventide with 
 me now, John ; and she, your wife, has been 
 light to me/" 
 
 Kate saw the landscape before them all 
 blurred and indistinct. She pressed closer to 
 her husband's side. The pale, helpless hands 
 of the sick house-mother were drawing these 
 two heart to heart and soul to soul. In that 
 moment they were very close together — one in 
 their love for a beautiful white soul that formed 
 a blessed link between them. 
 
 "All the goodness has not been on my 
 side," said Kate, presently. "Your mother 
 has been so gentle and tender to me from 
 the very first that I could not choose but love 
 her. I have never before thought of such
 
 208 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 a life as hers being possible. It is like 
 sacred music, that lifts all one's thoughts from 
 earth to heaven ; her love for all her dear 
 ones so intense, her patience and submission 
 so perfect/' 
 
 "Yes," said John, "it has grown to that 
 with the long years of helplessness and pain ; 
 it has been like some star that has shone out 
 brighter and brighter for the darkness round 
 about it. I see my mother greatly changed, 
 Kate ; she seems to me like a lovely picture 
 that is slowly fading away. They will wake 
 up some day to find the canvas blank, and 
 then, Kate — then they will find out what they 
 have lost." 
 
 " More especially Aunt Libbie," said Kate. 
 
 " More especially Aunt Libbie," echoed John. 
 " And yet, how much she has been to us all, 
 how much she has done ! It is one of the sad 
 things of life, Kate, that some people turn 
 themselves wrong side out, as it were, and do 
 themselves a cruel injustice. I have a re- 
 membrance of Aunt Libbie nursing Humbie 
 through the scarlet fever. She was attentive
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 209 
 
 to every duty, watchful, resolute, everything 
 except tender. Then when the crisis was past, 
 and the doctor had told her the boy would 
 live, I chanced to come upon her on her knees, 
 her face bowed upon her hands, the tears 
 stealing through her fingers. I think ever 
 afterwards I had a different idea of Aunt 
 Libbie. I know that many times and oft I 
 have found that one memory help me to 
 patience when she has spoken hardly of my 
 mother. I have felt that I would sooner 
 judge Aunt Libbie by her heart than by her 
 tongue." 
 
 " She does not like — nay, more, she dislikes 
 me," said Kate. 
 
 " She does not understand you," answered 
 John. 
 
 Again they were trenching on forbidden 
 ground, and each (mentally) drew back hur- 
 riedly. A little time of silence brought them 
 to the farm gate. Then, with a word as to 
 the perfect beauty of the afternoon, with a 
 glance upward from Kate at the church that 
 
 seemed to be half-way to heaven, so deep and 
 vol. I. o
 
 210 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 pure a blue was the sky amid which it reared 
 its tower, they went in. 
 
 Surely the usually serene atmosphere of 
 the household was in some way perturbed ? 
 Eeared up against the tall, oak-cased clock 
 were two parasols — a brown matronly affair, 
 and a frisky -looking pink one. But these 
 innocent objects could not account for a war 
 of words in the kitchen heard as Kate opened 
 the house-place door. 
 
 The farmer, strangely stirred, or so it 
 appeared, yet keeping ward and guard over 
 his voice — a proceeding that rendered him 
 very red in the face and exceedingly short in 
 the breath — was the centre of a group of three, 
 the twins and Aunt Libbie ; while Humbie, 
 very much amused, as anyone could see with 
 half an eye, but yet evidently going in fear of 
 some catastrophe or another, hovered in the 
 background. 
 
 Between his massive finger and thumb Mr 
 Granger held a small square piece of paste- 
 board, every now and again flicking it with 
 the finger and thumb of the other hand : he
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 211 
 
 was far too much excited to notice the entrance 
 of John and his wife, or, indeed, to notice 
 anything at all save the subject-matter in hand. 
 
 This Kate soon saw to be a lady's visiting- 
 card, on which was printed in letters rather 
 larger than is usual : " Mrs Dionysius Sweet- 
 apple, The Rectory, Low Cross." 
 
 " Is there any need for to have it wrote up 
 large like that," said the farmer huskily, in 
 what there is every reason to believe he con- 
 sidered a delicate whisper. " Is there any 
 need to have it wrote up like that ? Is there 
 any fear we'll forget it ! Doan't every man, 
 woman, and child i' Low Cross know it well 
 enoo by now ; and then to have it wrote up 
 like that ! I conna abide such ways. What's 
 hoo come for ? Is hoo come for to tell me 
 how to rig my taters and hoe my turmits, and 
 bed down my beastes, as hoo did last toime ?" 
 
 The twins, as was usual with them in any 
 critical moment, had fast hold of each other. 
 Aunt Libbie lifted her mittenecl hands in 
 horror at the position of affairs, and tried in 
 vain to get a word of explanation in edgeways.
 
 212 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Mrs Sweetapple has come to call upon my 
 wife," said John. " Don t you worry yourself, 
 father. Kate will manage her right enough." 
 
 " Then Kate's a clever wench," said the 
 farmer, in his excitement making free with his 
 daughter-in-law's name for the first and only 
 time during her stay under his roof; " and I 
 warn her to be wick and slape wi' madam, for 
 she's an ugly sort, and no mistake. Last time 
 she favoured us, naught would do but she 
 must go up and see your mother ; and when I 
 went in for to speak a word or two after the 
 creetur wur gone, I saw a big tear on Susie's 
 cheek ; and says I, all on fire like : ' What's t' 
 varmint bin sayin to hurt ye, lass ? ' Bo' 
 Susie was never one to make much ado ; and 
 says she, ever so gentle like : ' Her means well 
 enoo, Thomas. Don't go to fash yersel'. It's 
 me that's fullish, being so sickly and so easy- 
 hurted.' I shook my fist next toime I passed 
 t' Rectory, and I hope madam wur at t' 
 window to see me do it." 
 
 " What shall we do ?" moaned Miss Libbie. 
 "We can't open the doors while brother's
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 213 
 
 going on this gate ; and it's past all politeness, 
 to keep the ladies waiting like this, Mrs John." 
 
 " Don't let me hinder ye," said the farmer, 
 breathing hard, snatching his hat up from the 
 table and making for the back door. "I'm off 
 to t' shippon to see t' dun cow, hoo's no so 
 well as I could wish. When t' house is clear 
 o' varmints, send one o' t' girls to tell me so." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Miss Libbie, "they'll hear 
 that door bang, sure enoo' ; and we'll have it 
 set all ower the parish as brother's bin at t' 
 Dale Arms ower long, an' come home fullish." 
 
 Kate meanwhile had been quietly taking off 
 her hat, she set it on a chair, touched the soft 
 ripples and curls that fell about her brow, with 
 deft fingers, and then, spruce and neat as if 
 she had just come out of a band-box, as Eay 
 said afterwards, she took her way to that 
 uncomfortable room, the " best parlour," John 
 having told her he thought she had better go 
 alone. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was gazing at the celebrated 
 fire-screen, and making withering remarks 
 thereupon, if one might judge from her counte-
 
 214 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 nance. She turned sharply round as Kate 
 went in, holding her pince-nez high on her 
 nose and looking at the new-comer as if she 
 were an intruder. 
 
 " How are you ? " she said, in the same 
 high-pitched tone that had made Kate shiver 
 in the church lane. " Meant to come yester- 
 day, but was detained ; the Acton-Chomleys, 
 delightful people from quite the other side of 
 the county, dropped in unexpectedly." 
 
 " They came to ask pa for some votes for 
 an idiot asylum," said Melissa, who, having 
 shaken hands with Kate, was sitting, with 
 head thrown back and eyes half closed, in a 
 chair encrusted with antimacassars in chenille 
 and beads. " We don't know them at all, they 
 have never been to see us before." 
 
 When she had finished speaking Melissa 
 closed her eyes entirely, so that the lightnings 
 of her mother's indignant glances struck upon 
 a dead w T all. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple felt unspeakably aggravated 
 by something, she could hardly have told you 
 what, in young Mrs Granger. She had a sort
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 215 
 
 of feeling that this kind of thing was not what 
 she had come out to see. The slight, yet 
 womanly figure ; the simple dress, upon every 
 fold of which even in its very simplicity 
 fashion had set her hall-mark ; the bit of price- 
 less lace round the slender throat ; the spray 
 of purple vetch fastened in with a pin, whose 
 head was a single brilliant, that blazed like a 
 star ; the white, active-looking hands daintily 
 jewelled ; the small head, tress-crowned ; the 
 lovely, quiet-looking eyes ; the air of complete 
 repose about the whole figure — all these things 
 revolted the soul of Mrs Sweetapple. 
 
 " I hope you like Low Cross ? It is a 
 charming village, and the people worship Mr 
 Sweetapple/' 
 
 Here a sniff from Melissa made her mother 
 turn sharply upon her ; but the girl's face was 
 a blank, and her hands were folded in her lap 
 in an access of meekness. 
 
 " Of course it is very natural," continued 
 the oracle, " for in a country parish the clergy- 
 man holds a very prominent and important 
 position."
 
 216 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Naturally," said Kate, with a calm little 
 bend of the head which the Rector's wife 
 thought truly detestable. 
 
 As to Melissa, she stole a glance at young 
 Mrs Granger which that newly-made matron 
 saw fit to ignore. 
 
 "There is delightful society round about — 
 old families, you know, who have been in the 
 county for generations." 
 
 " Some of them," put in Melissa softly. 
 
 " Well, well, there are exceptions, of course, 
 but we may be said to be highly favoured 
 socially, and I often tell Melissa she is not 
 half sensible enough of her advantages. Now, 
 there are the people from Freshton Park, 
 charming — charming ; the son plays the banjo 
 divinely, and the old people are what I call 
 real, sterling family folks. One of the daughters 
 was presented at court, so you may have heard 
 of them in London ? " 
 
 " What is the name ? " said Kate, not a 
 shadow of a smile upon her face. 
 
 " Er — Smith," said Mrs Sweetapple, with a 
 rather crestfallen air.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 217 
 
 " Not a very uncommon one," said Kate. 
 
 "N — no," replied the other, "perhaps not; 
 but so thoroughly English." 
 
 Kate, not having arrived at that condition 
 of mind in which to be " thoroughly English " 
 appears at once the most coveted distinction 
 and the highest guarantee of perfection, felt 
 somewhat puzzled what to reply ; but Mrs 
 Sweetapp]e was not exacting in that respect. 
 Her tongue was like the flow of the beck 
 through Low Cross Bridge. 
 
 " Then there is dear Lady Dermot ; she 
 always singles me out in the most flattering 
 manner." 
 
 " Her daughter has got so talked about she 
 is glad to have anyone to hold on to," said 
 Melissa, still with her eyes shut. " If they 
 didn't happen to be one of the real old county 
 people, the girl would have been cut dead long 
 since ; she just got crazy about a clergyman, a 
 man with a wife and two children, and he had 
 to quit. Lady Dermot never took any notice 
 of us before, but ma talked to her one clay 
 when none of her relations were there to
 
 218 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 back her up, and we've never got rid of her 
 
 since." 
 
 "Got rid of her! Melissa!" cried Mrs 
 Sweetapple, trying to focus her daughter with 
 the pince-nez, but able to glare at nothing 
 save a face with long lashes down- drooped 
 under a rose-pink hat. 
 
 " Yes," said Melissa ; " she's no good. 
 When people begin to forget her daughter's 
 misdemeanours, Lady Dermot will begin to 
 forget us ; besides, I'm like pa, I hate the 
 girl, with her bold eyes and her wriggling 
 ways, just like the porri wiggles in the pond at 
 the end of our garden." 
 
 " Melissa," said Mrs Sweetapple severely, 
 " don't be vulgar." 
 
 " Are porri wiggles vulgar ? " 
 
 Could anything equal the innocence of 
 Melissa's face as she put this query 1 
 
 " No, certainly not. Of course they can't 
 help being what they are ; but it is vulgar to 
 speak of them, and young Mrs Granger must 
 think so." 
 
 " Indeed, I do not ; I could not think you
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 219 
 
 vulgar," said Kate, turning with a bright 
 smile to Melissa, who by this time was neither 
 asleep nor dozing. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple began to feel that the order 
 of creation was, in some way, being reversed. 
 It almost seemed as though this assertive 
 young woman, whom she, the wife of the 
 Vicar of Low Cross, had come expressly to 
 bring to a proper sense of her position, was 
 sitting in judgment on herself and her daughter, 
 Melissa playing into her hands in a way dis- 
 gusting to contemplate. 
 
 It was clear that bigger guns must be 
 brought into the field, and to bear upon the 
 enemy. 
 
 " The young Countess of Craigleigh is 
 naturally the leader of society in the county 
 here, and a most charming, though, alas ! 
 very distant neighbour " began the cam- 
 paigner, as a sort of tentative sortie. 
 
 "The Countess never spoke to us but once, 
 and that was when she asked Ma for a ticket 
 in a raffle at the Freestone Church Bazaar last 
 year," said Melissa, apparently giving her
 
 220 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 confidence to the larch woods seen through 
 the open window, and very sleepily to them. 
 
 The occasion being an exceptionally trying 
 one, Mrs Sweetapple felt it called for excep- 
 tional treatment. She ignored Melissa, much 
 aided in the task by the fact that young Mrs 
 Granger was also apparently deaf to the voice 
 of that charmer. 
 
 After executing this piece of strategy, she 
 fell back in graceful retreat, waving her hand, 
 pince-nez and all, as if to dismiss Yorkshire 
 county, or at all events that side of it. 
 
 "But I weary you, Mrs John, talking 
 of people who are, after all, strangers to 
 you." 
 
 " As many of them are to us." 
 
 " So I will only say there is a sprinkling of 
 nouveaux riches who have wormed their way 
 in among the county people." 
 
 " Hanging on to their petticoats." 
 
 " Just so," turning for once cordially to 
 Melissa, " and giving themselves a great many 
 more airs than the original article, who, as a 
 matter of fact, give themselves none. But let
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 221 
 
 us talk of things nearer home. Are you not 
 delighted with this dear old house ? " 
 
 Those who knew Mrs Sweetapple were well 
 aware that in her polite moments lurked the 
 deepest danger. Melissa gave a little start as 
 her mother spoke thus suavely, and her bright 
 clear eyes lost all their languor. She looked 
 thoroughly alert, from the crown of her broad 
 hat to the tip of her neat leather shoes. 
 
 "I am delighted with Low Cross, altogether, 
 Mrs Sweetapple," said Kate — "most of all 
 with the church on the hill, and the ridges of 
 larch wood all the way down." 
 
 " Yes, how very sweet of you to say so ; but 
 I was speaking of the farm, so quaint, so old- 
 fashioned, quite a model Yorkshire homestead ! 
 It is considered one of the best farms on Lord 
 Whimperdale's estate." 
 
 Kate was generous-hearted and unsuspicious 
 by nature, but she was also quick-witted and 
 full of keen intuitions. She scented war in 
 the air, and drew her breath a little quickly, 
 though by no outward sign could anyone have 
 told what was passing in her mind.
 
 \ 
 
 222 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 There is nothing which makes you love 
 anyone so dearly, or rather so helps you to 
 realise how clearly you do love them, as having 
 to take up cudgels in their defence. 
 
 At that moment Kate was ready to vow she 
 would not for the whole world have come 
 to any other home than the "best farm on 
 Lord Whimperdale's estate " ; would not have 
 found John's people one whit different to what 
 they were. Even Aunt Libbie — for the 
 moment — became clothed with a clearness not 
 her own. 
 
 " Lord Whimperdale is certainly to be con- 
 gratulated upon having such a tenant as my 
 father-in-law." 
 
 There, it was out ! 
 
 One must not say it did not cost in the say- 
 ing, but we may say that the beautiful, fearless 
 eyes of the speaker looked straight at Mrs 
 Sweetapple's pince-nez, and the cheek that 
 coloured high and hotly was not young Mrs 
 Granger's. 
 
 Still, the campaigner was only flurried, not 
 dismayed.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 223 
 
 "Thomas Granger is indeed greatly re- 
 spected," she said, dropping the pince-nez 
 into her lap, " and deserves to be. Everyone 
 feels deeply, too, for him in his family 
 affliction." 
 
 " You mean his wife's illness ? It seems 
 hardly right to use the word ' affliction/ in 
 her case, Mrs Sweetapple. It is like having 
 something wonderful and beautiful in the 
 heart of the home, that quiet room, that 
 gentle spirit." 
 
 "'Tis like a little heaven below," quoted 
 Melissa, to cover the tremble in Kate's voice ; 
 " at least, I know I always feel as if I had 
 been in a sort of heaven when I go to see Mrs 
 Granger." 
 
 " Still, my dear, it is very sad — very, very 
 sad ; a woman whose whole life was full of 
 hard, active work — house- drudgery such as 
 you or I can have no idea of." 
 
 " Do you think she could possibly ever have 
 looked more of a drudge than you and I when 
 we have to turn to and cook the dinner, and 
 then dress and sit down to it, and look as if
 
 224 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 each dish was a surprise to us ? I don't. I 
 shall never forget when the Smiths came over 
 to lunch, how my face burnt from stirring 
 the " 
 
 "Melissa, don't exaggerate!" 
 
 " That's what you said when I put too 
 much cinnamon in the pudding, ma." 
 
 "Melissa, you are making yourself ridiculous. 
 Every lady " 
 
 "Oh, I dare say. Every lady sees to her 
 household ; her price is above rubies, etc. ; 
 but they don't do what you and I have to do, 
 ma. Don't tell me ! " 
 
 " Still," said Mrs Sweetapple, beginning to 
 look draggled as to plumage, and hotter in the 
 face than was becoming to a woman with a 
 high nose, "it is very sad about poor Mrs 
 Granger ; though, of course, as your papa says, 
 we must kiss the rod " 
 
 " Pa never says anything of the sort ; he 
 says you should help people to bear their 
 sorrows, and not moan over them. He's a 
 dear, kind-hearted old duck is pa." 
 
 " That I am sure he is from his preaching,"
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 225 
 
 said Kate ; " there were such sweet and tender 
 thoughts in that sermon on Sunday." 
 
 Melissa's face changed to something sweet 
 and tender too. 
 
 " He's always like that," she said ; " that's 
 why the people in the village love him so." 
 
 " I really am very glad, Mrs John," said 
 Mrs Sweet apple, taking heart of grace, " that 
 you are so pleased with everything here — very 
 glad indeed. I am sure you have every rea- 
 son to be proud of your husband, a man who 
 has made his way so well — really quite the 
 gentleman," murmured Mrs Sweetapple. 
 
 " I am very proud of my husband," said 
 Kate, rising suddenly, and looking every inch 
 a queen, as the rich colour mantled to her 
 cheek, and her eyes shone like stars ; " it is 
 a good thing for a wife to be proud of her 
 husband ; but you must pardon me for telling 
 you, Mrs Sweetapple, that I have lived among 
 people who look upon it as the height of ill- 
 breeding and bad taste to discuss those who 
 are nearest and dearest to us." 
 
 " Ma ain't proud of pa," said Melissa, with 
 vol. i. p
 
 226 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 childlike innocence and frankness ; " she snubs 
 him all the time." 
 
 What catastrophe might have followed this 
 untoward remark will never be known ; for at 
 that moment the attention of all three ladies 
 was attracted by a groom in livery, riding a 
 chestnut horse, slowly passing the window. 
 
 " The Whimperdale livery ! " cried Mrs 
 Sweetapple complacently. " The man has 
 doubtless been to the Rectory with a message, 
 and come on here after me." 
 
 " Perhaps he hasn't," said Melissa. 
 
 The question was soon settled, for Miss 
 Libbie, with her frostiest manner on, and a 
 letter in her hand, entered the room. She 
 greeted the guests with prim frigidity, and 
 then turned to Kate : 
 
 " Do you know where John is? There's a 
 letter for him from the Hall." 
 
 " He went to the post, I think," said Kate, 
 who had fully recovered her equanimity. 
 
 The* the ladies took leave, and Kate, a little 
 worn out when the ordeal was over, sat down 
 a moment in the window-seat.
 
 MELISSA IS ALTOGETHER ASTONISHING. 227 
 
 All at once came a rustle and rush as of a 
 bird's wings, and Melissa, red and breathless, 
 was on her knees before Kate, holding her 
 hands, and covering them with kisses, 
 
 " Don't mind ma," she said, panting ; " she 
 always goes on like that. I saw it hurt you, 
 and that hurt me, so I came — I left my parasol 
 on purpose. You stick to Lady Whimper- 
 dale, she's the sort for you. Look here, Mrs 
 John — Mrs Kate, you're just lovely !" 
 
 And the bird had flown before Kate could 
 speak a word. 
 
 " Melissa," said Mrs Sweetapple, who had 
 been unusually silent during the walk home, 
 " what can have been in that letter from the 
 Hall ? " 
 
 " Perhaps they've asked Mr and Mrs John 
 to go and spend a week there. I should if T 
 were Lady W. ; she's just lovely !"
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 
 
 We are more privileged than poor Mrs Sweet- 
 apple, and can look over John Granger's 
 shoulder and read the letter from Steaclly 
 Hall. It was short, and to the purpose. 
 
 "Dear Mr Granger, — I have just learnt 
 that your wife is a niece of my dear old 
 comrade, Anthony Pierrepoint. Will you 
 allow my wife to call upon her, and let us look 
 forward to welcoming you both under our 
 roof? I have always thought of Anthony 
 Pierrepoint as the best, truest, and bravest of 
 men, and I count it an honour to meet any- 
 one belonging to him. — I remain, faithfully 
 yours, " Whimperdale." 
 
 " I fancied the name Whimperdale was
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 229 
 
 familiar to me," said Kate, reading the letter 
 as John handed it to her, after reading it aloud. 
 " I know now— I have heard Uncle Anthony 
 mention it in speaking of the days of his 
 Indian service." 
 
 "You would like her to come, dear?" said 
 John, looking gravely at his wife's face. 
 
 The twins standing by, as usual side by 
 side, like pigeons on a rail, felt that no more 
 tremendous crisis in life was possible than that 
 which had now come about. Their eyes were 
 round and bright with excitement ; their 
 breath came as quick as though they had been 
 running half-way up Church Hill. 
 
 What effect would this last piece of news 
 have upon the post-master's daughter ? 
 
 Still more important question, what view 
 would Mrs Sweetapple take of things % 
 
 Would she be crushed (it was difficult to 
 fancy her in that flabby condition), or would 
 she be rampant and resentful, and come and 
 flounce about like the bubbly-jock in the straw- 
 yard ? Anyway, it was delightful — too, too 
 delightful ! Not a spark of envy or jealousy
 
 230 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 reigned in those simple breasts. Leah and 
 Each el gloried in "Mrs John's" glory; they 
 were quite willing to shine with a reflected 
 light. They did not wonder at the people 
 from the Hall wanting to come and see her — 
 not they ! 
 
 It was only natural — but oh, so delightful ! 
 They gazed at her, wondering what she would 
 put on, and wherewithal she would be clothed, 
 when Lady Whimperdale should visit her in 
 state, the beautiful long-tailed horses of the 
 Hall carriage champing their bits opposite the 
 best parlour windows. 
 
 Lady Whimperdale often went to see the 
 sick poor in Low Cross. More than once she 
 had been to see Mrs Granger, and brought her 
 lovely fruit from the hothouses at the Hall. 
 But this was a different kind of thing alto- 
 gether. This was to be a proper visit, such as 
 one lady pays to another — a visit that their 
 brother's wife would have to return, no doubt 
 attired in a tiny, pale pink bonnet of which 
 they had caught a glimpse more than once, 
 snugly ensconced in its box — a bonnet that had
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 231 
 
 tiny feathers at the side, such fairy things that 
 they stirred with every breath you took as you 
 were looking at them. 
 
 Did they not know how Mrs Sweetapple 
 had come and flouted them all after the one or 
 two semi-public occasions of her own appear- 
 ance among what she chose to speak of as 
 " the Whimperdale set " ? 
 
 Now she would flout no more ; her days for 
 prancing and crowing were over. 
 
 It was wonderful to the twins to hear their 
 brother ask Kate if she would " like " Lady 
 Whimperdale to come — as if there could be 
 two opinions about the matter ! 
 
 Kate, too, did not appear in the least ex- 
 cited or, to use their own word, " upset/' 
 Perhaps (this suggestion was made in the 
 privacy of the room with the dormer window) 
 in her own home, and among her own people, 
 she was used to this kind of thing every day. 
 A certain awe came over them as they spoke 
 of this possibility. 
 
 Kate was glad at the coming of that letter 
 from the Hall. She was glad to think she
 
 232 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 would hear the voice that matched the beauti- 
 ful face of Lady Whimperdale, touch the hand 
 of the woman who had looked at her with a 
 look full of gentleness and sympathy from the 
 curtained pew in the gallery. She was happy 
 too in the compliment paid to the General. 
 
 The words in Lord Whimperdale's letter 
 lingered in her mind all day — "the best, the 
 truest, the bravest of men." Yes, that was 
 just it — that was just Uncle Anthony all over. 
 These thoughts brought a sickening sensation 
 of longing with them. Oh, that she could look 
 upon that tender, patient face — could feel the 
 clasp of his arms about her once again ! — could 
 hear him call her his " Bonnie, Bonnie Kate ! " 
 She began to reproach herself with a 
 thousand sins of omission towards him — sins 
 existent only in her own sensitive and excited 
 imagination. 
 
 But we are all like that ; when separation 
 comes, when opportunity is past, we cry, with 
 " an exceeding bitter cry " : "I might have 
 done more ! Would God I had the time given 
 me over again ! "
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 233 
 
 This was the letter that John Granger wrote 
 in reply to the one from the Hall : 
 
 "Dear Lord Whimperdale, — My wife 
 will be delighted to see Lady Whimperdale. 
 It will be a great happiness to her to meet 
 those who hold General Pierrepoint in such 
 high estimation. I am sure you will hear 
 with regret that his health has been sadly 
 broken down of late. He has gone to Madeira 
 with his sister and nephew to try change of 
 climate, and I am thankful to say our last 
 accounts of him are decidedly improved. 
 With kind regards, in which my wife joins, 
 I remain, yours faithfully, 
 
 "John Granger." 
 
 John was fully conscious of the nice delicacy 
 of Lord Whimperdale's own letter, and felt 
 that the best return to make for it was to 
 accept the proffered courtesy in the most 
 simple and direct manner. 
 
 In his heart of hearts he was inclined to 
 put down Lady Whimperdale's wish to make
 
 234 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Kate's acquaintance quite as much to the 
 charm and grace of his wife's appearance as to 
 her lord's previous knowledge of the General. 
 It appeared to John that to look at Kate 
 was to long to know her; at all events, that 
 had been his own case, and he was incapable 
 of feeling any surprise at seeing the same 
 symptoms developed in anyone else. 
 
 If you saw T a star shining overhead, you 
 naturally gazed at it. If you saw a sweet 
 flower blooming, you naturally longed to gather 
 it, and set it in your bosom. 
 
 That was the sort of way in which John 
 Granger looked at the attitude of the world 
 towards his wife Kate. 
 
 " Do you think Lady Whimperdale will 
 come to-day ? " said Ray, with round, shining 
 eyes, the morning after that precious missive 
 had arrived from the Hall. Kate looked up 
 quietly from her work. 
 
 " One can't tell that, dear Ray," she said, 
 smiling ; " but I want you and Leah to do me a 
 kindness. I want you to get me some of your 
 sweetest flowers, and some of those leaves of
 
 LADY WHIMPEKDALE. 235 
 
 eglantine and bramble that are turning all gold 
 and red, and then I want you to help me make 
 the house-place look as charming as we can." 
 
 " The house-place ! " cried Ray, in surprised, 
 crescendo notes ; and Leah, who, of course, 
 was not far off, said : "Oh, Kate ! " and then 
 blushed as rosy as the brambles at her own 
 daring. 
 
 Then the twins spoke both together. 
 
 "We never thought you would like to have 
 Lady Whimperdale shown into the house- 
 place ! " 
 
 But Kate was determined to get the better 
 of the " best parlour," coute que coute. She 
 thought with a shudder of the black lace cloak, 
 with pearl -grey "points," surrounded by a 
 forest of antimacassars, and perhaps decorated 
 with a pendant one. 
 
 " T think the house-place just one of the 
 loveliest rooms in the world — Miss Sweetapple 
 said so the other day, you know." 
 
 " Did she ? " from Ray, with the merest 
 soup fon of a pout. 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is pretty in its way,"
 
 236 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 from Leah, with a regretful sigh to the memory 
 of the many adornments of the best parlour. 
 
 " Indeed it is," said Kate, " and now, let us 
 make it prettier still." 
 
 Enthusiasm is catching, and soon the three 
 were hard at work ; soon bright leaves shone 
 up against the high, dark oak panels, and 
 lovely groups of blossoms, seen against a 
 mellow brown background, looked like pictures 
 upon wood. 
 
 " What a way you have with flowers ! " 
 cried Leah, clasping her hand in ecstasy. 
 
 " What a way she has with everything ! " 
 echoed Eay, and some demon of fun and dar- 
 ing rising within her, she twirled round the 
 room to a slow swinging tune set to the 
 words, "Kate, Bonnie Kate, our beautiful 
 Kate ! " 
 
 John, popping his head in at the door, 
 wondered what all the ado was about, and as 
 he looked at his sister's revolving figure, put 
 his arm about Kate's shoulders, and asked : 
 
 " Have you bewitched her, Kate ? — as you 
 did me," he added, laughing.
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 237 
 
 " It is a good thing, sir, that it did not take 
 the same effect in your case anyway, or Aunt 
 Cynthia might have thought you were what 
 Will calls ' a little luny. ,w 
 
 " This," said Kay, with a magnificent wave 
 of the hand round the room, " is for my Lady 
 Whimperdale." 
 
 " I hope Lady Whimperdale will like it," 
 said John smiling. Then he left them to it. 
 
 " I'm glad he's gone," said Leah, " because 
 we want to ask you something." 
 
 Eay came up to Kate's other side, and the 
 two looked at her with serious, longing eyes. 
 
 " What are you going to wear ? " 
 
 " To wear i " 
 
 "Yes— to put on." 
 
 " Oh, you mean my dress ? I never change 
 my dress unless I am going out — that is, I 
 mean, till evening." It had never entered 
 Kate's head that she would be expected to 
 dress up to the occasion. " Is there anything 
 amiss with this one ? " she added, glancing 
 down at her pretty skirt. 
 
 " This one," was the shining grey she had
 
 238 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 worn when first she arrived at Low Cross. It 
 had a close, upright collar, and at the side of 
 her throat was a blood-red rose, Humbie's gift 
 that morning. 
 
 The twins looked disconcerted. They had 
 fondly imagined a gorgeous toilette, perhaps 
 the pink and lace affair which had seemed to 
 them a garment of the most delicious. 
 
 But alas ! there was no time for comment ; 
 little enough indeed for flight. 
 
 With no champ of restless steeds, no pomp 
 and circumstance of arrival, a quiet figure was 
 suddenly in their midst. Lady Whimper- 
 dale had walked slowly up the broad cobbled 
 pathway, and stood at the open door. 
 
 There was a rush as of wings — Leah's and 
 Eachel's cotton skirts in rapid flight upstairs — 
 and at the same moment Humbie appeared 
 round the corner of the house. 
 
 Lady Whimperdale greeted him with genial 
 kindness, and patted Jack, who, scenting a 
 friend to dogs, waved his tail and trotted up 
 the passage as if to show the way into the 
 house-place.
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 239 
 
 " Kate," said Humbie simply, " here is Lady 
 Whimperdale." 
 
 Then Kate heard the voice that matched 
 the face — the voice "soft and low" that is 
 such an admirable thing in woman. She also 
 saw two kindly hands outstretched for hers. 
 
 " It is so good of you to let me come to see 
 you — I am so glad for us to meet," said Lacly 
 Whimperdale, and Kate answered in a voice 
 that had a little thrill in it : " Not more glad 
 than I am." 
 
 It was infinitely foolish, of course, but she 
 felt a strange inclination to cry — why, she 
 would have found it hard to explain to herself. 
 But the choking sensation was quickly over- 
 come, and soon, Humbie and Jack having 
 disappeared, the two women were chatting 
 together with as much ease and understanding 
 of each other as though their acquaintance 
 were of old standing, instead of being for all 
 the world like Jonah's gourd. 
 
 What these elective affinitives consist of, it 
 is for none of us even to try to understand. 
 They are — and with this we must be content.
 
 240 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 The whole current of a life may be changed 
 by an apparently casual introduction in the 
 street. You meet someone of whose exist- 
 ence you were absolutely ignorant until that 
 moment, and are conscious of a deep, sweet 
 melody running through your life for evermore. 
 
 It was so with Kate and Lady Whimper- 
 dale. The electric current of sympathy was 
 established. It was for the future to show 
 how the lines thus made would be utilised by 
 fate in the developments of a life's history. 
 
 Before the two parted a pleasant programme 
 was arranged for a day later in the week. 
 John and his wife were to go to the Hall 
 early, the former to join a shooting party, 
 Kate, " to give yourself to me for a long chat," 
 said Lady Whimperdale, with the winning 
 smile that made her face more beautiful than 
 that of a girl ; " and then join our sportsmen 
 for lunch on the heather." After this, a visit 
 was paid to the quiet room upstairs, that 
 always seemed to Kate like some sacred fane, 
 and the exquisite power of expressing sym- 
 pathy possessed by Lord Whimperdale's wife
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 241 
 
 struck Kate anew. What is this lovely gift 
 that hallows the life of its possessor, and 
 brightens the grey lives of others as a ray of 
 sunshine on a cloudy day illumines the world it 
 touches ? 
 
 Is it not even the in-dwelling spirit of 
 Christ ; the reflection of that radiance which 
 is in truth the Light of the World ? 
 
 There is no thought of self in a heart thus 
 saturated with the love of humanity for the 
 love of God. Suffering is the only passport 
 needed to this rich store of tenderness and 
 sympathy. 
 
 As Kate and her visitor left the room a 
 limpid tear might have been seen stealing- 
 down Susan Granger's face. But it was not 
 a tear of sorrow, rather of gladness ; for a 
 smile hovered round the lips that moved in 
 a silent prayer of thankfulness. 
 
 Some trouble had been in the mother's 
 heart, and it was raised and lightened, though 
 not perhaps taken away altogether. 
 
 Thus we see the inner meaning of the myth 
 
 about the good fairy from whose lips fell 
 VOL. i. o
 
 242 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 pearls every time she spoke. These pearls 
 are words of sympathy ; they are precious 
 exceedingly. 
 
 Kate sauntered through the golden autumn 
 sunshine down to the gate with Lady Whim- 
 perdale, and after bidding her adieu, stood a 
 moment, shading her eyes with her hand from 
 the glare, and watching down the lane. So 
 standing she saw a figure bar Lady Whimper- 
 dale's way, and heard a too familiar voice cry 
 out : 
 
 " How are you ? " 
 
 It was Mrs Sweetapple, and, as she beat a 
 rapid retreat, Kate felt as though her new 
 friend was indeed handed over to the enemy. 
 
 Had she remained where she was, she might 
 have heard at all events a portion of the con- 
 versation that followed, since the Rector's wife 
 was by no means of Shakespeare's opinion as 
 to the intonation most charming in a woman. 
 
 " How are you, Lady Wbimperdale ? " she 
 paid again, shaking that lady's somewhat limp 
 hand in a vastly hearty grip. " Been to call 
 at Low Cross Farm — eh ? "
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 243 
 
 " Yes, I have been to call od Mrs John 
 Granger." 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple fixed her pince-nez on her 
 nose in a determined and warlike manner, 
 resolved, as it were, to lose no possible phase 
 of her ladyship's state of mind. 
 
 " A sweet young creature ! " she said, speak- 
 ing in a tentative voice, and with a manner 
 which suggested a readiness to develop on any 
 side that might be advisable. 
 
 " A very sweet young creature," echoed my 
 lady, stepping on towards the village, and 
 looking straight before her as she spoke. 
 
 " Ahem ! " said Mrs Sweetapple, drawing 
 her dolman close, and allowing it to define the 
 sharp angles of her figure more clearly; "quite 
 so, and capable of showing much good com- 
 mon-sense, placed as she is in a most trying 
 position." 
 
 " What position ? " 
 
 This time Lady Whimperdale turned full 
 upon her companion, her eyes grave and 
 questioning, all shadow of a smile gone from 
 her chiselled face.
 
 244 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " Well, you know " 
 
 " No, I do not know." 
 
 " Still, anyone can see, Lady Whim per dale, 
 that Mr John has married a little above him, 
 as the saying goes, and to find herself the 
 wife of a farmer's son must be a trying posi- 
 tion to Mrs John." 
 
 "It is the crown regal of a true gentlewoman 
 that she can fill any position, Mrs Sweetapple, 
 and fill it well. I can imagine nothing more 
 perfectly in harmony with her surroundings 
 than Mrs John Granger appeared to me this 
 morning. That lovely old panelled room, and 
 herself in the midst of the flowers that decked 
 it so prettily, made a perfect picture ; I have 
 not enjoyed paying a visit so much, I don't 
 know when. By the way, how is old Martha 
 Griddle's rheumatism of late ? This warm 
 weather ought to be good for her." 
 
 " I think I heard Melissa say she was 
 better." 
 
 " Melissa is as good as a curate to the 
 Rector, Mrs Sweetapple." 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple tossed her head.
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 245 
 
 " Oh, Melissa is a good girl in her way, but 
 she is fanciful — very fanciful. She is abso- 
 lutely bewitched about this young Mrs Gran- 
 ger, ' makes herself downright ridiculous,' as 
 the Rector was saying only yesterday." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Lady Whimperdale ; " that 
 does not sound much like our dear, good, 
 Rector. I cannot fancy him speaking so of 
 Melissa." 
 
 " Wei], he didn't exactly say so of himself, 
 you know. I put it to him in a plain, 
 straightforward kind of way. 
 
 " I understand ; but you must tell him I 
 can't have him begin to differ from me, even 
 when you put things in a plain straight- 
 forward kind of way to him, Mrs Sweet- 
 apple — and say that I am quite as much 
 bewitched with Mrs John Granger as Melissa 
 can be." 
 
 At this point the Hall carriage — or, rather, 
 a daintily-appointed pony-carriage that Lady 
 Whimperdale greatly affected — drove up along- 
 side, and Mrs Sweetapple found herself left 
 plantee-kl on the side- walk, having only just
 
 246 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 time to make a bow with as much cordiality 
 squeezed into it as the shortness of the notice 
 would allow, and to wave her hand, before 
 Lady Whimperdale was well under way, for 
 the edification of some neighbours who were 
 bearing into sight. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple stood still, hesitating, cogi- 
 tating, pondering, half turned towards the 
 farm gates, half turned towards home, and 
 finally resolved that the latter direction was 
 the right one, the present social crisis being 
 too portentous to be faced without some home 
 counsel. Melissa might be — no doubt was — 
 a little given to being " fanciful," but even 
 the mother recognised the fact that under 
 the mask of slumberous indifference she was 
 shrewd and sensible beyond her years. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple had a crestfallen look very 
 unusual with her. Even the feathers in her 
 bonnet seemed to droop, and stand in need of 
 preening. She felt she had taken a false 
 (social) step ; she had rubbed Lady Whimper- 
 dale's fur the wrong way. 
 
 Who would have supposed that that slip -of
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 247 
 
 a girl, with her big brown eyes, and objection- 
 ably imperious way of carrying her head, 
 would have bewitched my lady at first sight, 
 to say nothing of Melissa 1 
 
 It was all very well for people to say the 
 lady of the Hall was the most gentle of mor- 
 tals, but she could only say there was but one 
 word that expressed what had passed in that 
 lane. She — Penelope Sweetapple, the wife of 
 the Rector of Low Cross — had been snubbed 
 — unmistakably and indisputably snubbed. 
 
 What was the use of her taking the trouble 
 to let Mrs John Granger feel her own position 
 and place, if she was, on the other hand, en- 
 couraged in this ridiculous manner by those 
 who ought to know better ? 
 
 But on the road home Mrs Sweetapple's 
 storm-tossed thoughts cooled down. There 
 are powers in the world that one cannot fight 
 against. Of these the Hall influence was one. 
 When you could not fight against the current, 
 the best thing was to swim with it. 
 
 It was with an almost jaunty step that Mrs 
 Sweetapple reached the Rectory.
 
 248 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Many plans were revolving in her mind. 
 Her thoughts were like the pieces of glass in 
 a kaleidoscope — now forming this combination, 
 now that. 
 
 The result of these reflections was made 
 manifest that same afternoon, when a note 
 arrived at the farm, carried thereto by a small 
 and wizened-looking boy who worked in the 
 Kectory garden, ran errands, and made himself 
 generally useful. 
 
 The letter ran thus : — 
 
 " Dear Mrs John Granger, — It will give 
 the Rector and myself much pleasure if you 
 and your husband will take tea with us at 
 half-past four o'clock to-morrow afternoon. 
 We project a little tennis. — I remain, yours 
 sincerely, Penelope Sweetapple." 
 
 " P.S. — We have a most interesting visitor 
 with us just now." 
 
 " The visitor is thrown in as a bait," said 
 John, reading the note over his wife's shoulder. 
 
 " Must we go ? " said Kate, rather piteously, 
 looking at her husband.
 
 LADY WHIMPERDALE. 249 
 
 " If you wouldn't mind very much. Mr 
 Sweetapple has always been a good friend 
 of ours, Kate, and you know he was Humbie's 
 tutor." 
 
 The note of acceptance was written and sent, 
 and Leah and Eachel at once set to chatter- 
 ing as to what Kate would wear on such an 
 important occasion. 
 
 " You know Miss Sweetapple is very tasty 
 in the matter of gowns," said Ray. 
 
 "So I am to outshine Miss Melissa, am 
 1 1 " said Kate, tipping the girl under her 
 soft round chin, and smiling, not ill-pleased 
 at the love these simple hearts gave her so 
 ungrudgingly. 
 
 " I wonder who the visitor may be ? " said 
 Ray ; " they have odd ones sometimes, I can 
 tell you. Once they had a black missionary — 
 he breathed so hard it frightened Leah to sit 
 next him, and he looked as if his clothes 
 were so tight they squeezed him all over." 
 
 " And another time there was a converted 
 Jew," put in Leah ; "he spoke through his 
 nose, and called us his Christian friends — he
 
 250 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 was dreadful. They asked everyone to meet 
 him, and he gave a temperance lecture in the 
 garden — the people got so tired." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Kate, drawing a long 
 breath ; " I hope there will be nothing of that 
 sort to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BY THE BROOK. 
 
 Neither converted Jew nor dark - skinned 
 missionary greeted Kate's eyes as she entered 
 the Rectory drawing-room on the following 
 day. 
 
 Only Melissa, in a marvellous dress of 
 snowy white, all goffered frills, made and 
 "got up" by her own cunning fingers, and a 
 little white capote fitting close to her sleek 
 dark head. 
 
 John had been waylaid by the good old 
 Rector, shuffling about among his dahlias, and 
 eager to show off his garnered hay, and the 
 state of his crops generally. 
 
 " Quite in a small way, John, of course, 
 after the farm ; but still, neat and compact — 
 neat and compact, I flatter myself."
 
 252 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Then, when the two were alone, Mr Sweet- 
 ajDple congratulated him upon his marriage. 
 
 " Your path seems to have fallen in pleasant 
 places, your choice to be a most happy one. 
 God give you peace and happiness all your 
 days." 
 
 Perhaps there was the slightest possible 
 faltering of the voice as the Eector gave 
 utterance to the word " peace," but, if so, it 
 may as well be said that such trifling signals 
 of distress were the only disloyalty of which 
 he was ever guilty towards his Penelope. 
 
 Meanwhile, Kate was wondering in her own 
 mind if it were possible the urbane and genial 
 hostess who greeted her with such effusion 
 could be the same personage who had called 
 at the farm but a day or two ago, and made 
 her feel as though a hive of hornets were let 
 loose. 
 
 That Lady Whimperclale could be a factor 
 in this change never entered her head, such 
 forms of social toadyism never having as yet 
 come under her notice. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was more than effusive ; she
 
 BY THE BROOK. 253 
 
 was confidential. She addressed herself to Kate 
 as to a person who, standing on the same social 
 platform as herself, could enter fully into her 
 feelings on social points — more especially 
 slights, or fancied slights, inflicted upon her 
 
 by people who were "not quite You 
 
 know — eh 1 " 
 
 In the present case a hamper of apples, said 
 to be of a rare kind, had been sent to the 
 Eector's wife, and some indiscreet admissions 
 on the part of the messenger entrusted with 
 them had led to the most painful suspicions. 
 
 "1 am perfectly convinced they were mere 
 windfalls," she said, sitting close to Kate on 
 a low ottoman in the window, and fixing her 
 pince-nez, as usual with her in moments of 
 excitement. " If so, I cannot but feel that 
 Mrs Beesley has taken a most unwarrantable 
 liberty, and I am thoroughly glad we did not 
 invite her daughters here this afternoon. 
 Apples that were mere windfalls ! " 
 
 " But if they were good " began Kate. 
 
 " Still," interrupted Mrs Sweetapple, " I feel 
 it to be a slight." Then she added emphati-
 
 254 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 cally, and laying her hand on Kate's arm to 
 add weight to her words : "I cannot feel it to 
 be the same compliment as though they had 
 been picked from the tree purposely for me, 
 and I shall never feel the same towards Mrs 
 Beesley — never." 
 
 Seeing it was no good to pursue the subject 
 of the unfortunate windfalls, Kate said a word 
 or two as to the Rector's love of his garden. 
 Ill prepared indeed was she for the rush of 
 confidences to follow. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple moved nearer still to her 
 guest, and spoke in awe-inspiring tones : 
 
 " Mrs Granger, the Rector is a martyr. I 
 can assure you no lesser term could give you 
 an idea of his case." 
 
 Kate looked ready to be sympathetic. 
 
 Doubtless certain pronounced theological 
 views of a warmly evangelical character held 
 possession of his mind, and he was willing to 
 be crowned with a martyr's crown sooner than 
 yield one inch of ground ; perhaps even 
 thirsted to suffer in what he believed to 
 be a good cause. Well, however much she
 
 BY THE BROOK. 4 255 
 
 might differ from him, Kate could respect such 
 constancy. 
 
 " A martyr to " she said tentatively, 
 
 leaving the majestic Eectoress (who somehow 
 looked incomplete without her dolman) to fill 
 in the pause. 
 
 " A martyr, Mrs Granger, to indigestion ! " 
 
 Kate almost gasped. 
 
 " The Eector does not know what it is to 
 dispose of a meal in comfort." 
 
 " That's true," said Melissa, leaning her 
 head against the back of her high chair and 
 half closing her eyes. " Poor pa ! " 
 
 Kate felt that more was meant than met the 
 ear, and prudently refrained from looking at 
 the young lady. 
 
 " The gastric juices, my dear Mrs Granger, 
 are absolutely inadequate." 
 
 Kate felt as though she were in a delicate 
 and complex situation. She appeared to be 
 involuntarily intruding into the most sacred 
 recesses of the good Eector's being. She 
 was also not unconscious of the humorous 
 side of affairs, and painfully conscious of
 
 256 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 the twinkle in Melissa's sleepy, half-closed 
 eyes. 
 
 "It is very sad/' she said at a venture, 
 commiserating the individual whose gastric 
 juices so radically failed in what might have 
 been expected of them, but still feeling that 
 the Rector might hardly like them being 
 discussed. 
 
 " It is indeed," said Mrs Sweetapple ; " it is 
 appalling : I tremble to think what might 
 happen if Mr Sweetapple had not me continu- 
 ally at his side. I watch him unceasingly," 
 continued the lady, with a relentless air. " I 
 supervise every mouthful." 
 
 " I think pa would be a lot better if he ate 
 what he pleased," put in Melissa, tilting her 
 chair, which had rockers, outrageously out of 
 the perpendicular, and looking with narrowed 
 eyes at the tips of her neat black shoes, " and 
 he thinks so too." 
 
 "Melissa!" cried her mother, turning the 
 pince-nez full upon her, and striving madly 
 but vainly to focus the dreamy-looking eyes. 
 Fierce looks were but ammunition wasted upon
 
 BY THE BROOK. 257 
 
 such an evasive enemy. Melissa was wise in 
 her generation. 
 
 "Ma," she said, as if waking suddenly out 
 of a trance, " where's the Rev. Caleb Bud ?" 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple's face lighted up suddenly, 
 like a street lamp when the lamplighter applies 
 his slender torch. 
 
 "Ah, naughty one!" she said, with her 
 head on one side, and a grim roguish ness of 
 demeanour ; then turning to Kate : "I have 
 not told you about our visitor — but he will be 
 here soon." 
 
 Kate tried to look as though she could with 
 difficulty possess her soul with patience, until 
 the moment of meeting should arrive. 
 
 Above all things she dreaded a return to the 
 gastric juices. 
 
 "He is the most interesting creature/' con- 
 tinued Mrs Sweetapple, turning up her eyes to 
 the ceiling, as though she feared the being in 
 question had already taken flight heaven- 
 wards, " and so made much of, and sought 
 after, that we ought to feel ourselves highly 
 privileged indeed that he can stay with us 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 so long. He has just been presented to a living 
 by Lord Scamper." 
 
 " Lord Scamper is the one who swears so 
 horribly when he is out with the hounds," said 
 Melissa, calmly watching a " painted lady " 
 that had fluttered into the room, and was 
 perched with quivering wings upon a pot of 
 scented musk. What could you do with 
 Melissa when she seemed to be talking to the 
 butterfly all the while ? 
 
 Happily, perhaps, all further discussion as to 
 his lordship's delinquencies was rendered im- 
 possible by the entrance of Mrs Sweetapplc's 
 " very interesting visitor," a newly -fledged 
 curate, so painfully conscious of himself that 
 he appeared scarcely able to find time to 
 realise the existence of anyone else. 
 
 He was excessively tall, and excessively thin, 
 had a long, smooth face, pale reddish hair, and 
 he blinked his eyes when he spoke. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was effusive and spasmodic. 
 
 " Allow me, my dear Mrs Granger," she 
 said, " to introduce to you our friend, the Rev. 
 Caleb Bud."
 
 BY THE BROOK. 259 
 
 Then, as Kate bowed, and the reverend 
 gentleman performed a sort of stiff salaam, at 
 the same time rubbing his somewhat red and 
 choppy hands nervously together, she turned 
 with an arch glance at Melissa, who was 
 apparently half asleep. 
 
 " You have been missed," she said, " I can 
 tell you, Mr Bud ; but I must not make you 
 too vain— that would never do. What would 
 Lady Scamper say ? " 
 
 Mr Bud simpered foolishly, as who should 
 say he felt his position in her ladyship's regard 
 to be too secure to be easily shaken. 
 
 As to Melissa, she watched Mr Bud, as a 
 cat watches a mouse, through narrowed eyes, 
 takiug him in, as it were, and enjoying him 
 thoroughly. There was an inteuse love of 
 humour in Melissa, and many a laugh bright- 
 ened the dingy old study at the Bectory when 
 she let the fun that was in her run over and 
 made the Rector chuckle at his books. 
 
 Just as she had finished her survey the 
 servant announced two neat-looking young 
 ladies, daughters of a neighbouring Squire, and
 
 260 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 Mrs Svveetapple suggested an adjournment 
 to the garden. Fate placed the Eev. Caleb 
 between Kate and Melissa. 
 
 "Are you fond of tennis, Mr Bud?" said 
 the former, with polite intent. 
 
 " I should not allow myself to be fond of 
 any mere amusement," replied Mr Bud, with a 
 gently reproachful air. " This garb," with a 
 comprehensive gesture that cleverly included 
 all the habiliments of his outer man, "must 
 naturally stand in the way of my devoting 
 much time to mere pastimes. I stand in a 
 very responsible position, Mrs Granger. I am 
 just presented to the living of Great Gadsby 
 by the patron, my Lord Scamper." 
 
 " You must feel rather ashamed of the 
 position," suggested Kate sharply, more zealous 
 than discreet, it must be owned. 
 
 He turned his weak-sighted eyes upon her 
 with a horrified stare. 
 
 " Ashamed!" he said. 
 
 Melissa's eyes twinkled like stars at night. 
 She felt like a child at a theatre when the 
 curtain is about to ring up.
 
 BY THE BROOK. 261 
 
 " Why, how long have you been in orders V 
 went on Kate unabashed, and with a certain high 
 carriage of the head that never boded any good. 
 
 " Nearly three years," replied Mr Bud, 
 joining his hands ringer to finger. 
 
 " And you can think of the hundreds of men 
 who have grown grey in the service of the 
 Church — men who have toiled for years in 
 crowded parishes — who have worn themselves 
 out in their work for God — have seen their 
 children " 
 
 The abject amaze in Mr Bud's face stopped 
 Kate in mid-career ; and, as she was silent, the 
 amaze turned to a hurt displeasure. 
 
 " My Bishop approves — Lord Scamper has 
 been most kind," he stammered, settling his 
 long neck in his stiff round collar. 
 
 It was really very hard on Mr Bud. He 
 had been made so much of, set up, indeed, 
 upon a kind of moral pinnacle ever since he 
 was nominated to the excellent living of Great 
 Gadsby. His own family in particular had 
 made quite a young sort of Pope of him : 
 and now, to have things put in such an
 
 262 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 unpleasant light : to be spoken of as if he 
 were an interloper filling the place of some 
 better man. . . . 
 
 The Eev Caleb Bud's face was a sight to 
 see. 
 
 " His lordship has known me from a boy," 
 he said, rumpling up his lank locks, and show- 
 ing grievous signs of distress ; " our families 
 have been connected. He had a great regard 
 for my father/' 
 
 " You are very modest in giving us such 
 reasons for his presenting you to the Vicarage 
 of Great Gadsby ; but nothing makes any 
 difference to what I think about it," said im- 
 pulsive Kate — " nothing ! What would be 
 said in the army if a subaltern were put over 
 the heads of veterans who had seen long and 
 arduous service ? " 
 
 " It's lovely to hear you talk ! " put in 
 Melissa, sparkling all over with delight — 
 " just lovely!" 
 
 This to Kate was like a sudden pull on the 
 curb to a young horse. Hitherto she had been 
 carried away by her own honest indignation.
 
 BY THE BROOK. 263 
 
 She had been absolutely free from self-consci- 
 ousness. Now she realised that she had been 
 led on to say more than was meet. With her, 
 to realise that she had been wrong was to 
 own to it. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she said, turning a 
 rose-fiushed face to the bewildered young- 
 divine ; " I have said too much." 
 
 " Not a word ! " sighed Melissa, gazing 
 dreamily ahead. 
 
 Happily at this juncture they reached the 
 tennis-ground. A young soldier at home with 
 his people " on leave" joined them, John and 
 the Rector came down a side- walk, and a set 
 was soon formed. 
 
 Was there ever such tennis-playing as 
 Melissa's ? 
 
 She turned, and swayed, and twisted like a 
 young eel ; the ball seemed to fly to her racket 
 more than her racket to the ball. She poised 
 the implement lightly in her hand, and the 
 ball struck it and rebounded. Her countless 
 gofferings whirled and swung till she seemed 
 to be an Undine swathed in mist.
 
 264 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 John Granger, too, played remarkably well ; 
 opposed to each other, they made play worth 
 watching. The Eector chuckled, all radiant 
 for once. The soldier on leave was almost 
 culpably inattentive to his own play. The 
 Rev. Caleb Bud forgot his " garb," and grew as 
 much excited as he used to do as a healthy- 
 bodied, healthy-minded boy on his school 
 cricket field, when the crack bat of the team 
 was mightily smiting the ball to the boundary, 
 and for the nonce Caleb was himself again, and 
 a much nicer " self" than the long-coated, stiff- 
 collared prig we have hitherto seen, with all 
 the spontaneity and all the manhood starched 
 out of him. He was actually falling into the 
 mundane proceeding of applauding vehemently, 
 when Mrs Sweetapple came to his elbow, and, 
 as the fabled toad in the ear of Eve, whispered 
 poison that spoiled his joy. 
 
 " Melissa plays well — does she not ? " said 
 the proud mother, looking more complete now 
 she had slipped on her dolman ; " and she does 
 not stop at that sort of thing, Mr Bud. She is 
 as good as a Curate to her father in the parish."
 
 BY THE BROOK. 265 
 
 The whisper was insidious, but Melissa heard, 
 and missed a ball, and the opposite camp tak- 
 ing advantage of the slip, made a point, and 
 brought the set to a conclusion. 
 
 Flushed, indignant, defiant, she stood before 
 the Eev. Caleb Bud like a vision. 
 
 " I hate parish work," she said, panting ; 
 " I only do it to please my dear old dad. I 
 would do anything to please him. There can 
 never be anyone in the world I would do as 
 much for." 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple might have thought, with 
 that fellow-feeling that makes us wondrous 
 kind, of the mouse whose best-laid schemes 
 "gang aft agley." 
 
 Her match-making seemed doomed to a 
 similar fate, for the terror expressed in Mr 
 Bud's face as he gazed on that vision of goffered 
 frills, scintillating eyes, and curling lip, had in 
 it, assuredly, naught akin to love. 
 
 Kate, feeling a little tired, had refused to 
 play, which the Squire's daughters thought 
 very sweet of her, and quite what a young 
 married woman ought to do when there were
 
 266 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 girls present. They were much interested in 
 her, feeling that her marriage was romantic, 
 her position unlike other people's, and before 
 the sets were over had half made up their 
 minds to get mamma to call upon her. 
 
 The Kectory drawing-room was a pleasant 
 place in summer, though apt to be somewhat 
 draughty in winter. It had a French-window 
 opening into the garden, and over this Melissa 
 and the wizened boy — who, it will be remem- 
 bered, was gardener and general factotum at 
 Mr Sweetapple's — had cleverly enough rigged 
 up a sort of awning. Inside flowers blossomed 
 everywhere, and Melissa presided at the tea- 
 table. 
 
 The Eector was, for him, in great spirits as 
 the company gathered round, but alas ! his 
 little day of joy was doomed to fade. 
 
 Melissa had been recently on a visit to an aunt 
 in London, and had there acquired what the 
 Rectory general servant was pleased to describe 
 as " high notions about sandwiches," the result 
 of which notions appeared on the present occa- 
 sion in the form of delicate slips of bread and
 
 BY THE BROOK. 267 
 
 butter, enclosing transparent sections of cucum- 
 ber. The Rector established himself near Kate, 
 handed her this, as he expressed it, "new- 
 fangled dish," and then helped himself to a 
 slender portion, beginning to chat to her of a 
 subject very near his heart, the cottage homes 
 of his village people. 
 
 The buzz of conversation was general ; the 
 young soldier lounged outside the awning at 
 the feet of the Squire's daughters, delighting 
 them with stories, not of foreign lands — that 
 experience was yet to come, for he was, after 
 all, but a sucking warrior— but of Chatham, 
 and the various delights — all so new to him — 
 of garrison life. 
 
 The salutary skeleton at the feast was repre- 
 sented by the Vicar- designate of Great Gaclsby, 
 who ate plain bread and butter to mortify his 
 flesh. He was explaining to John how once, 
 at a parish party, he had taken sugar in his 
 tea, " forgetting it was Lent," adding, " How 
 culpably forgetful we are all apt to be at 
 times ! " To this John replied " Quite so," and 
 was congratulating himself that his abiding
 
 2G8 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 city was not at Great Gadsby, when all these 
 various conversational streams were dominated 
 by the shrill voice of Mrs Sweetapple. 
 
 " Rector, Rector, you dorit mean to 
 say you are touching cucumber ! If you 
 have no consideration for yourself, have 
 some for me. Just think of the night I 
 shall have with you after such an indis- 
 cretion ! " 
 
 An awful pause succeeded this domestic 
 tirade. The company appeared literally struck 
 dumb, while the Rector dropped his cucumber 
 sandwich as if it had been a hot potato, 
 muttering in a guilty manner : 
 
 " Certainly not, my dear — certainly not ! 
 By no manner of means ! Your wish, my 
 dear, is law ! " 
 
 Then gradually, one by one, like ducks 
 playing "follow my leader," people began to 
 speak. The Rector recovered himself and 
 began to nibble a griddle-cake, casting little 
 anxious glances at his spouse as who should 
 say : " This is surely an innocent viand ; let 
 me continue it in peace, I pray."
 
 BY THE BKOOK. 269 
 
 At that particular moment he need have 
 had no fear. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was preparing for a great 
 social effect. She was a woman who had a 
 way of obtaining information by the direct 
 method, and in this particular case she wished 
 to obtain it publicly, in order to " impress " 
 the public gathered round her. 
 
 She gave a loud " Ahem ! " as though a 
 crumb of the cucumber sandwiches were stick- 
 in her throat, and everyone naturally looked up. 
 
 "When are you and Mr -Granger going to 
 the Whimperdales' ? " she said, addressing 
 Kate in a marked manner, and in a voice 
 that " carried " to the furthermost corners of 
 the room and indeed out across the lawn. 
 
 The Eev. Caleb Bud looked up aggrieveclly. 
 There was but one Lord (Scamper), and he 
 (Caleb Bud) was his prophet. 
 
 Why, therefore, should Mrs John Granger, 
 a most unpleasantly outspoken person, about 
 whom everybody appeared to make a quite un- 
 necessary fuss, set up a Whimperdale acquaint- 
 ance and try to glorify herself thereby ?
 
 270 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 As to the Squire's daughters, their faces 
 were a study. 
 
 Here had they beeu making up their minds 
 to get "mamma" to patronise young Mrs 
 Granger (a person really holding a very equivo- 
 cal position), and lo and behold ! the person 
 who was thus to have " greatness thrust upon 
 her" appeared to be on visiting terms at 
 Steadly Hall. 
 
 Kate was, however, the most surprised 
 of all. Her great grave eyes looked up 
 wonderingly at Mrs Sweet apple's eager face. 
 It was a new amaze to her to realize that any- 
 one could think it in any way remarkable that 
 she should be going to visit Lady Whimperdale. 
 It orTended her sense of the fitness of things 
 that she should be questioned in so brusque a 
 manner about her own and John's proceedings. 
 
 " I believe we go there on Friday," she said 
 with a sedately quiet manner. Then she 
 turned to her neighbour, the young soldier, 
 and gave all her attention to his account of a 
 new and exquisite booby-trap he and another 
 fellow had set — most successfully too — for a
 
 BY THE BROOK. 271 
 
 newly-joined brother officer, that is, one more 
 newly joined than himself. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances the booby- 
 trap would not have interested Kate deeply ; 
 as it was, she was really grateful to it- 
 Mrs Sweetapple was perfectly conscious that 
 she had made herself unpleasant to a guest. 
 She knew that the Rector's eye was on her 
 with an expression she did not like. The Rector 
 would stand infinite petty tyranny as to his 
 food, and endless unpleasant references to his 
 gastric juices, but he could put his foot down 
 on occasion, and he had a great horror of a 
 
 guest under his roof being made Uncoin- 
 ed o 
 
 fortable. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple had, however, the courage 
 of her resolves. 
 
 " Have the Charlton-Medways left the Hall 
 yet ? " she said, still addressing Kate pointedly. 
 
 " I did not ask." 
 
 " My wife is not at all a curious person," 
 put in John, strolling up to the side of the 
 hostess, and coming to the rescue. 
 
 " No more am I," answered Mrs Sweetapple,
 
 272 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 drawing the dolman round her with an air as 
 if it were a toga, and she a Eoman of distinc- 
 tion ; " but in the case of a celebrity like Mr 
 Char] ton-Med way, a little curiosity is pardon- 
 able. I met dear Lady Whimperdale just at 
 the farm gate, and should have asked about 
 her distinguished visitors, but that I was 
 pressed for time." 
 
 At this a covert grin might have been de- 
 tected on the faces of the Squire's daughters ; 
 and even Kate, still deeply interested in booby- 
 straps and their skilful construction, felt her 
 lips give at the corners. 
 
 " Lady Whimperdale must have paid you 
 quite a long visit," continued Mrs Sweetapple, 
 unabashed, though conscious of an atmosphere 
 of hostility about her, " for she had the pony- 
 trap put up at the Arms." 
 
 " She sat a long time with my — mother," 
 said Kate, now fairly roused, lifting her head 
 high, her brown eyes bright and defiant. 
 " No one can wonder at that, you know ; it 
 is always hard to leave her." 
 
 John felt a mist rise between him and the
 
 BY THE BROOK. 273 
 
 picture that he made believe to look at. His 
 heart leapt and beat thickly for a moment. 
 
 Kate — his own sweet Kate — how lovely 
 she was, doing battle for her husbands people ! 
 He would like to have taken her in his arms 
 there and then, and kissed the quiver from her 
 mouth. 
 
 " Y — e — s," said Mrs Sweetapple, with her 
 head sentimentally on one side, '" Mrs Granger 
 is of course a very interesting person — we 
 must all feel that ; and Lady Whimperdale is 
 so good and kind to the sick. I think she is 
 one of the most perfect of women ! And really, 
 to see her in her own home circle " 
 
 " When did we see her like that, ma ? " 
 put in Melissa, coming in from the lawn, and 
 poising herself like a bird by the table, teacup 
 in hand. 
 
 Mrs Sweetapple was apparently deaf on that 
 side. 
 
 "Indeed," she went on glibly, "in every 
 
 relation of life she is admirable ; and but for 
 
 the Rector's dislike to our keeping dinner 
 
 company " 
 
 vol. i. &
 
 274 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 " We cant afford it," said Melissa, smiling 
 in her sleepy way ; " it's hard enough to pay 
 the boys' schooling as it is, isn't it, pa \ " 
 
 "Yes, yes, my clear," said the Rector, 
 guiltily shoving a bit of muffin he had taken 
 under the edge of his saucer. " But, God 
 bless them ! we'll always manage that, what- 
 ever comes or goes. And things will be easier 
 now, for Lord Whimperdale wants me to have 
 his young grandson here to read classics with 
 me, just like your young brother Humbie used 
 to do, John. I think I ought to have been a 
 schoolmaster, I am so fond of teaching boys," 
 he went on, taking the company, as it were, 
 into his simple confidence. 
 
 As for his spouse, she felt that, indeed, her 
 social star was under full eclipse, and should 
 know no perihelion that afternoon. 
 
 Some more tennis, and then the little 
 gathering began to melt away. 
 
 The Rev. the Vicar - designate of Great 
 Gadsby murmured something about having to 
 meet Lord Scamper, and the Rector somewhat 
 sped the parting guest, begging him not to
 
 BY THE BROOK. 275 
 
 hurry back to Low Cross, but to be sure and 
 suit his lordship's convenience. 
 
 " Mr Bud leaves us the day after to-morrow, 
 he has so much that is important to see to 
 before entering upon his new position ; indeed, 
 he says he fears he shall have to begin with 
 the A B C of everything in the parish, such 
 ignorance prevails." 
 
 " That will be rather uncomfortable for his 
 parishioners, won't it ? " said John, addressing 
 the Kector. 
 
 " He is a very foolish young man," answered 
 Mr Sweetapple ; " but it is the head, not the 
 heart, that is at fault. His orders have got 
 into his head." 
 
 "And his 'garb,' pa," said Melissa, with a 
 delicious reproduction of Mr Bud's gesture of 
 a while back ; " don't forget his garb ! " 
 
 " As I told him only yesterday," said Mrs 
 Sweetapple, with an engaging smile, ''there 
 is nothing that can be such a help to the Vicar 
 of a new parish as a thoroughly helpful 
 wife." 
 
 But at this such a look came into Melissa's
 
 276 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 now widely-opened eyes that even Mrs Sweet- 
 apple was scared. 
 
 " What he wants is common-sense, not a 
 wife" said the Eector ; " but he will mend 
 with time. As it is, he'll be better than his 
 ideas of himself, and I wish him well. 1 
 knew his father, and am interested in the 
 lad." 
 
 What Mr Bud's feeJings would have been 
 could he have heard himself described as " the 
 lad," it is given to no man to know. Happily 
 he was absent. Many of us have to be thank- 
 ful for the fact that we are spared the hearing 
 of what is said of us behind our backs, and of 
 these Mr Bud was one. 
 
 Kate stayed chatting with Melissa awhile, 
 after the other guests had gone, and the 
 Eector retreated with John to his " study," 
 a sort of cupboard, with a window abutting 
 on the back garden, and giving a wonderful 
 view of cabbages and gooseberry trees. Yet, 
 humble as it was, this simple chamber was a 
 sort of sanctuary to Mr Sweetapple. There 
 he could hear Mrs Sweetapple's ringing " How
 
 BY THE BROOK. 277 
 
 are you ? " addressed to some casual visitor, 
 slip the bolt of the old worm-eaten lock, 
 and feel safe and happy. With preternatural 
 shrewdness he had established it as "a cus- 
 tom," that when he went out he locked his 
 sanctum and put the key in his pocket. The 
 fact then that the door of his study was 
 locked had come to be taken as a sort of 
 " not at home," and the one little deception 
 he permitted himself was to allow the unwary 
 upon occasion to mistake the slipped bolt for 
 the turned lock. Three sides of the Eector's 
 " den " were books — place only being left for 
 a small asbestos stove, a pet plaything with 
 him, and in truth a handy little contrivance 
 enough. 
 
 Books were his best companions ; over a 
 new book he would rejoice as a mother over 
 her new-born babe. In this he was happy, 
 for a love of books and their sweet, though 
 silent companionship lifts all of us above the 
 petty, carking cares of life, letting our spirits 
 Hy forth into the pure air that is nigh est 
 heaven, as a lark on the wing floats skyward.
 
 278 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 When the boys came home for the holidays, 
 they rather shirked this little hidden chamber. 
 They found it was no manner of use indulging 
 in fables as to their work and progress. They 
 felt that they were (metaphorically) stripped 
 bare in that den, with its little arched window, 
 and the dark leather chair in which was seated 
 the grand inquisitor. 
 
 Melissa floated in sometimes, as a butterfly 
 might have done. She would kiss the bald 
 spot on the top of the Rector's head, perch on 
 his knee, tell him some droll story to make 
 him smile, and then float out again. 
 
 On one memorable occasion she had sur- 
 prised him bending over a newly-opened 
 document, and noted a tear trickling slowly 
 down his dear old nose. She found the paper 
 that had thus moved him was a term's report 
 from the head-master of " the boys' " school. 
 It recorded how the younger of the two had 
 been "incorrigibly idle " over his work. 
 
 No one ever knew what took place in a 
 subsequent interview between Melissa and that 
 boy. All that the rest of the family was
 
 I 
 
 BY THE BKOOK. 279 
 
 aware of was the fact that he came out of it 
 very limp and tearful, and worked like a slave 
 the term following, so that masters and com- 
 rades alike wondered at him. Also, he re- 
 marked to his elder brother in private, that 
 the " chap that got Melissa would catch a 
 tartar — blessed if he wouldn't ! " 
 
 But we are leaving John and Kate lingerino- 
 at the Rectory too long. 
 
 As they started on their way home the dusk 
 of the autumn evening had begun to gather. 
 The light in the distance was silvery and 
 uncertain, aud, where the cornfields had been 
 shorn of their golden load, the faint mist crept 
 along the stubble. 
 
 Stars shone faint in the grey-blue sky, a 
 pink flush was in the east, and as they reached 
 the babbling brook they stopped instinctively, 
 so beautiful was the scene around them. 
 
 There is a mysterious influence that Nature 
 in her loveliest and most seductive moods 
 brings to bear upon the soul of man. So 
 intense is our sense of her sacreclness and 
 beauty that we are hushed, as though our
 
 280 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 steps were treading the aisles of some holy 
 fane. 
 
 As John and Kate — still but wedded lovers 
 — lingered by the brook, well might their 
 hearts be touched and their souls hushed by 
 the scene around them. 
 
 So clear was the water at their feet that 
 each reed and sedge, each purple spire of 
 loosestrife, had its duplicate sleeping at its 
 feet. The water-ranunculus floating on the 
 quiet stream ; the starry, purple -eyed prunella ; 
 the tiny earthnut, like a miniature sweet pea ; 
 the tapering bugle plant, so richly blue -how 
 fair these flowerets were ! 
 
 Half-way up the hill on one side was a field 
 of poppies, ruddy, rich, resplendent — an eye- 
 sore maybe to the farmers, but exquisite in its 
 gorgeous loveliness, and glowing like a gigantic 
 ruby in the grey light of evening. 
 
 Overhead the swallows were flocking for 
 flight ; innumerable wings flitted and swirled 
 against the faint and fading sky ; sometimes 
 they dipped so low, Kate felt as if she could 
 touch them with her hand ; anon they wheeled,
 
 BY THE BROOK. 281 
 
 far and high, crossing and recrossing each 
 other, and keeping up such a busy, happy 
 chattering as filled all the air, and almost 
 drowned the soft low whisper of the wind in the 
 thick- growing sedges Not quite, though ; and, 
 as she stood there with her arm close pressed 
 in John's, that rustling voice seem to Kate to 
 speak to her heart of hearts. How different a 
 place the world had seemed to her since the 
 day when first she began to love this man who 
 was now her husband ! 
 
 How the colours in life's landscape had 
 deepened and brightened ! How the " music of 
 violins" had swept over her soul, and bidden 
 it wake to the thrill of passion and the tender- 
 ness of lonoinoM How she had learnt the 
 lesson of possessing a dearer self, a creature 
 whose suffering, even in the slightest thing, 
 would be infinitely harder to bear than any 
 possible pain that could come to herself ! 
 
 It is impossible to account for these waves 
 of exquisite delight and tenderness that will, 
 at times, sweep across a heart that loves. They 
 are like the wind, coming whence we know
 
 282 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 not, not to be seen by any mortal eye, yet 
 swaying the little flowers with a tender buffet- 
 ing kiss, and bringing us the scent of the 
 hayfields from afar. 
 
 As these two lingered, drinking in all 
 the sweet, dear sights and sounds that 
 make up Nature's evensong, a tiny water- 
 wagtail came wavering down to the brook 
 to drink. 
 
 They stood in the shadow of a tree, and 
 so he came on bravely, balancing himself 
 delicately on a mossy stone, almost at their 
 feet, dipping his slender beak into the ripples 
 at the edge of the stream, fluttering this way 
 and that after some tiniest insect, then drink- 
 ing again, fluttering his dark slim wings, and 
 preening his gleaming breast. 
 
 " He did not see us," said Kate, smiling up 
 into John's face as the bird flitted to the 
 bushes on the opposite bank ; " it was lovely 
 watching him like that ! " 
 
 It was all lovely, thought John, his wife's 
 nice loveliest of all, with that holy radiance, 
 that deep and tender gaze, in her dear eyes,
 
 BY THE BROOK. 283 
 
 and the happy little bird drinking at the 
 brook was part and parcel of the whole. 
 
 " John," said Kate, as they resumed their 
 homeward way, " did I say too much ? Did 
 I speak too hotly to-day ? Dear, I know I do 
 so often ; I am too impulsive — I speak without 
 thinking. When I see a thing wrong I feel 
 as if I must try to set it right. Will you 
 always tell me when I let myself go too 
 much ? " 
 
 He promised ; he said the injustice to others 
 — hard-working, perhaps hopeless men in the 
 Church — of such a case as Mr Bud's, was 
 enough to move any heart to righteous anger, 
 enough to make the Church's enemies blas- 
 pheme ; he did not wonder at what she had 
 said. 
 
 But he felt himself half guilty all the while, 
 for, if Kate said too much (and his love was 
 not of that senseless kind that blinds a man to 
 all faults and failings in the one beloved), was 
 not he, John Granger, often conscious that he 
 erred in just the opposite extreme ? 
 
 If he should blame Kate for words too hot
 
 284 BONNIE KATE. 
 
 and scathing, might not she — poor Kate! — 
 blame him for a silence still more culpable ? 
 
 She was soothed by his words. There was 
 sweetness in appealing to him for counsel. 
 She was happy — very, very happy — as she 
 walked with her love through the star-gemmed 
 gloaming. 
 
 When they reached the farm they went 
 into the house-place thinking to find someone 
 there. 
 
 But the room was empty. 
 
 The grey light flittered through the case- 
 ment, where the leaves of the creepers outside 
 showed like a study in black and white. One 
 window was set back, and through it came 
 the sound of the three bell-voices dropping 
 from the darkening sky. 
 
 Weary with his own emotions John sank 
 into the wide old settle by the window, and 
 Kate, dropping on her knees, nestling to his 
 arms, laid her head against his breast. 
 
 His lips groped for hers. 
 
 " Love — my love ! " he muttered softly, and 
 she put up her hand to his face, touching it
 
 BY THE BROOK. 285 
 
 gently. He longed to say, thus holding her 
 close and fast to his heart : "Forgive me — oh, 
 forgive me, love of mine ! " But he dared not. 
 It was one of those moments in which those 
 who love are conscious of the full joy of life ; 
 the passionate intensity of content ; the deep 
 thrill of a sympathy unique and penetrating. 
 He would drink his fill of its sweetness. He 
 would not spoil it by a word ; he dared not ; it 
 was too great a gift. 
 
 END OF VOL. I, 
 
 TUBNBCLL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.