^A^^^yi^yJ '-^4CMyn^r
 
 L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVER5ITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 V.I
 
 ^:Z^,^'^*^ ^ /^^^y^ <r 
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY 
 
 % lofatl. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEOEGE DOUGLAS. 
 
 ■That piebald mixture of black and white, called Man." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 TINSLEY BEOTHERS, 8, CATHERmE STREET, STRAND. 
 1874. 
 
 [All rights of Irantlation and Eeproduction are reserved.]
 
 SA.VILL, EDWAEDS VNO CO., PRINTEES, CHANDOS STREET, 
 COVENT GARDElf.
 
 V.I 
 
 TO 
 
 K THE RIGHT HONOUEABLE THE EARL OP HOME 
 
 THIS STOEY, 
 
 WITH HIS 'lordship's KIND PEKMISSION, 
 
 "V-. 
 
 "H BY HIS MOST OBEDIENT AND FAITHFUL SERVANT, 
 
 ■5 
 
 X THE AUTHOE. 
 
 
 4
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 Scene I. 
 
 BOUT eight o^clock on a briglit frosty 
 morning in December, 185 — _, a boy 
 called Luke Mark — who was spending his 
 Christmas holidays at the home of Jack Ferrier, 
 his friend and schoolmate — was walking through 
 the shrubbery of Blackbeck House. He is 
 rather a nice-looking lad, with fair complexion, 
 blue eyes, and hair of a shade a little darker 
 than pale flaxen, and is fifteen years of age. 
 
 In his hand he carries a catapult, from which 
 he occasionally projects a stone with considerable 
 force. 
 
 Scratching about among the dead leaves and 
 withered stalks of last summer^s flowers in the 
 shrubbery, are some poultry. There is a cock 
 and five hens. They are of a kind particularly 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 prized by the owner of Blackbeck House, who 
 has recently been assigned a gold cup for their 
 excellence at a show held in the neighbouring 
 town of Marchton some weeks before. 
 
 Without thinking what he is doing, and as 
 much out of idleness as mischief, Mark picks 
 up a stone, fixes it in his catapult, and taking 
 aim, hits one of the five hens on the head, 
 which drops down dead. Pleased with his 
 success, and unaware or forgetful that these 
 are the prize poultry, he takes another stone 
 and fires it, and after that another, until the 
 cock and the five hens are all killed. 
 
 It is not until he sees the unfortunate poultry 
 lying prostrate on the ground that the thought- 
 less and mischievous boy awakens to the full 
 perception of the consequences of his action. If 
 the birds had been of a common breed he could 
 easily have repaired the damage by purchasing 
 some new fowls with his pocket money, but these 
 particular ones had been sent to Mr. Terrier from 
 abroad, and were, he firmly believed, the only 
 specimens of the sort in England. 
 
 " By George ! Vvc done it now \" exclaims 
 Mark, contemplating the dead poultry with un- 
 utterable horror, and dropping the catapult as 
 though it had stung him or burnt his fingers, he 
 tries to get the cock on its legs, but of course
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 3 
 
 without success. '^The beggar is as dead as 
 mutton \" 
 
 Then lie reflects that being a visitor at Black- 
 beck House, it is not probable that Mr. Terrier 
 will do more than look glum or give a severe 
 reprimand. He is duly thankful he is not one 
 of Mr. Ferrier^s own sons, or he knows, in school- 
 boy phrase, " he would catch it like mad.'' 
 
 While thus thinking, two boys appear at the 
 corner of the house with skates slung over their 
 arms. These are Mr. Ferrier's two sons, William 
 and Jack. The former is the same age as Luke 
 Mark ; the other three years younger. 
 
 " Come on, Luke,'' shouts Jack. '^ I've been 
 down to the big pond, and it's bearing all over. 
 We need not come home until five o'clock, as 
 we're to dine with the rest to-night. And 
 mother's given me lots of grub, and a shilling 
 besides to buy some pale ale." 
 
 " No, really ? How stunning !" returns Mark, 
 and without another thought about the un- 
 lucky poultry, he scampers off with the rest of 
 the boys. Something is sure to turn up be- 
 tween this and the evening. He does just once 
 wish, but it is merely a passing wish in the 
 excitement of a stirring game of hockey, that he 
 had had the sense to dig a hole and bury the 
 poultry, and then it might have been supposed 
 
 1 — 2
 
 4 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 they had been stolen. However, it is too late 
 now for any regrets to be of use. 
 
 The three boys have scarcely got out of sight, 
 when Mr. Terrier, with a cigar in his mouth, 
 walks through the shrubbery on his way to the 
 stables. 
 
 Almost the first thing which meets his eye 
 is the catapult beside the dead bodies of the 
 defunct cock and hens. The next minute he has 
 called all the servants out of the house, and is 
 questioning them very minutely as to the author 
 of the deed — on which subject, however, no one 
 is able to throw any light. Mr. Terrier then 
 lifts up the catapult, on which is written dis- 
 tinctly the initials J. F. 
 
 ''J. F. That stands for Jack Ferrier,'^ he 
 says. " I think I have discovered who killed my 
 poor prize poultry, and I shall give him some- 
 thing to-night which will make him leave off 
 these practical jokes.''^ 
 
 The servants go back to the house, congratu- 
 lating themselves they are not Master Jack. 
 After this, Mr. Ferrier cuts several tough 
 branches from an old ash tree at the end of the 
 shrubbery, and as he swishes them one after the 
 other through the air, regrets there will not be 
 time to season them properly ; but, nevertheless, 
 they will answer the purpose for which he in-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 5 
 
 tends them. Then Mr. Ferrier rides over to 
 Marchton, where he has a business engagement 
 which occupies him for the remainder of the 
 day. 
 
 Towards evening the boys return, very hungry 
 and rosy from their long skate. Dinner not 
 being quite ready _, they employ themselves in 
 making toffy over a blazing fire in the library. 
 Charity Ferrier, a pretty graceful girl of fourteen, 
 already admired in Marchton, is sitting with the 
 boys. She has a great love of ruling, and 
 tyrannizes over her mother — a gentle woman, 
 idolized by her husband and sons. 
 
 " How my chilblains rage V exclaims Jack, 
 rubbing his right hand, on the palm of which a 
 large chilblain has thought fit to settle. " Hark ! 
 that^s the sound of the carriage taking mother off 
 to the Towers. She's going to dine there to- 
 night.'' 
 
 " There's some one coming along the passage," 
 says Charity, as a heavy tread is heard outside 
 the door. 
 
 Mark gives a start. 
 
 Has Mr. Ferrier found out who did it ? He 
 remembers he never thought of looking whether 
 any one had been standing at the window. 
 Until this moment he had completely forgotten 
 the disagreeable fact. His heart and his courage
 
 6 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 seem slipping right into the heels of his shoes^ as 
 Mr. Ferrier enters the room. 
 
 He is a tall, powerfully-built man, with a 
 stern cast of features which can look very severe 
 when angry, and just now he is very angry. 
 
 But for the light of the fire burning clear and 
 brilliant in the frost, it is dusk in the library. 
 The leaping flames throw the figures of the slim 
 girl and her flaxen curls, and the three expectant 
 boys, into dark Rembrandt shadows and warm 
 softened lights, touching the countenances with 
 the mellow tints produced by holding a candle at 
 a little distance in a darkened room. 
 
 There has been a splendid sunset over the 
 broad expanse of the flat Lincolnshire fens, the 
 creeks, and morasses, and quicksands of its dan- 
 gerous coast, and the sun itself has sunk behind 
 the wolds, leaving some ragged crimson clouds 
 floating over the burnished orange-gold sky, 
 against which stand out some tall, straight, 
 weird poplar-trees, and the steeple of Marchton 
 church. 
 
 " Do any of you boys here know who killed 
 my prize poultry ?^^ begins Mr. Ferrier. 
 
 " No, sir,'^ return the three boys at once — 
 two of them with perfect truth ; the other a 
 little hesitatingly. But after all Luke argues, 
 did he do it ? What fools the birds were to get
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 7 
 
 in his way ; and to be sure^ it was the stone 
 which finished the poultry^ not he. 
 
 '^ I asked you/' proceeds Mr. Ferrier^ ^^ to 
 give Jack a chance of acknowledging the wanton 
 mischief he has done. I shall not take the 
 trouble of contradicting you. Stand forward, 
 Jack. Do you recognise this catapult V 
 
 ^^Yes, it-'s mine/^ replies Jack. 
 
 " Where do you think I found it ? Lying 
 beside the dead poultry."' 
 
 " I did not kill them, father/'' protests the 
 boy ; " I know nothing about it." 
 
 " Was it you, William ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Was it vou, Luke Mark ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 Luke detests himself for the lie. But he sees 
 those ground- ashes in Mr. Terrier's hand, and 
 he has felt them on his back before now, and did 
 not like the application. Now that he has denied 
 it, the confession would be all the more difficult. 
 
 " Have any of you had Jack's catapult ?" goes 
 on Mr. Terrier. " Some of you may have taken 
 it by mistake." 
 
 But William steadfastly denies having done so, 
 and Mark corroborates him. 
 
 " Then, my man, you had better confess at 
 once," says Mr. Terrier. " I shall give you a
 
 8 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 thrashing as you deserve^ but it wont be so bad 
 as if you stick to your lie/^ 
 
 '' I didn^t do it/^ is all Jack answers. 
 
 Mark feels what a coward he is as the ash 
 falls with a swinging whizz on Jack^s back^ yet 
 fond as he is of his chum and school friend, he 
 cannot compel his courage to return sufficiently 
 to save the boy from the punishment which is 
 justly his own. 
 
 When three ground-ashes are broken to bits, 
 and some rents are visible on Jack^s jacket, Mr. 
 Terrier pauses to take a fresh one. Jack has 
 hitherto been silent. 
 
 " Will you confess now T' he asks. 
 
 " No, I wont/^ he replies. ^' V\e nothing to 
 confess.^^ 
 
 Mr. Ferrier is thoroughly enraged at what 
 he considers JacFs stubbornness and obstinacy. 
 Brought up himself on the principle of " Spare 
 the rod, spoil the child,^^ he has no notion of 
 letting Jack off one inch of what he thinks 
 proper correction. He has no idea of con- 
 doning an offence. If a man or boy has sinned 
 or offended, he deserves punishment. He be- 
 lieves that the old-fashioned system produces 
 finer and more honourable men than the pre- 
 sent style — men, in fact, capable of heroism 
 and of uncomplaining endurance.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 9 
 
 ^' Hold out your hand, Jack/^ he commands. 
 
 Jack extends the left, hoping his father will 
 not ask for the right. 
 
 ''^Not that one/'' cries Mr. Terrier, exas- 
 perated beyond measure at his son, and snatch- 
 ing the boy^s right hand, he proceeds to rain 
 blow after blow upon the palm on which is 
 the chilblain before mentioned. Jack sets his 
 teeth hard ; but do what he will he cannot 
 prevent a low cry of intense pain escaping his 
 lips ; for every blow of the ash causes exquisite 
 torture in the inflamed flesh, and each stroke 
 draws blood. 
 
 Mark cannot stand it any longer, and catches 
 hold of the ground-ash, crying out — 
 
 •^ Oh, Mr. Terrier^ please don't ; he did not 
 do it." 
 
 Jack looks gratefully at his champion, but 
 holds his tongue. 
 
 " It's very good of you, Mark,'''' says Mr^ 
 Ferrier ; ^' but if Jack did not do it, who did 1'^ 
 
 Much as Mark loves Jack, he is unable to 
 avow the truth. No one could hate his 
 cowardice more than he does himself, still he 
 cannot bring himself to speak out. 
 
 "Will you confess now?''' again says Mr. 
 Ferrier. 
 
 Jack only shakes his head. He has nearly
 
 10 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 bitten his nether lip through, in the effort to 
 restrain his cries. 
 
 " Well, youVe about had enough for to-day/' 
 observes Mr. Terrier. '^ It^ll take you a little 
 while to get over this; perhaps by that time 
 you'll have come to your senses. I'm deter- 
 mined to break you of these mischievous tricks. 
 I wish you would take pattern of your friend 
 Mark ; he is all that a gentleman should be, 
 quiet, polite, and still not a muff." 
 
 Calliog Charity to come to dinner with Wil- 
 liam and Mark, he leaves Jack alone, after 
 telling him he is to have neither dinner nor 
 supper that day. 
 
 Jack has, indeed, ^' about had enough." He 
 sits down on the rug and wraps his bleeding 
 hand in his pocket-handkerchief, feeling very 
 dizzy and " queer /' then, overpowered by the 
 heat of the fire, the pain in his back, and the 
 agony of his wounded member, he faints off 
 quietly on to the floor. 
 
 " Coom, coom, Measter Ja-ack," says a voice, 
 when all have gone in to dinner, which, had 
 Jack been conscious, he would have recognised 
 as that of the fat cook. His misfortunes have 
 spread to the kitchen, and the worthy head 
 of the culinary regions, with whom, in spite 
 of many tricks, he has always been first favourite,
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 11 
 
 has brought him some food. " Doan't ee be 
 stiint, Measter Ja-ack. Coom, coom now/'' as 
 if addressing a refractory horse. " Hoowiver, 
 Tve fetched ee some maazin^ foin fried taates, 
 and if ee dosen^t eat ''em 1^11 eat nn mysen." 
 Then fancying she hears Mr. Terrier leaving 
 the dining-room, she shuffles off to her own 
 domain. No one comes to Jack. Mr. Terrier 
 insists that Charity and the boys - shall remain 
 in the drawing-room_, and as he is completely 
 master in his own house, his will is implicitly 
 observed. Mark is excessively uncomfortable at 
 the notice paid him by Mr. Terrier. He 
 begged to be allowed to take Jack some din- 
 ner j but was peremptorily refused. The praise 
 lavished on him of generosity, hurts him almost 
 as much as the ground-ashes did Jack^s back. 
 What evil spirit induced him to shy stones at the 
 poultry ? He has relinquished any feeble in- 
 tention he might have had of telling now. 
 Jack will soon be all right again, and he will 
 endeavour to compensate hira in some way for 
 the severe thrashing he has had. 
 
 The moon has risen high in the sky, 
 and the stars are shining over the wolds, 
 a dark undulating ridge against the horizon, 
 and the shadows of the leafless trees are cast 
 black on the dry, hard ground, when some
 
 12 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 one witli a lamp in her hand enters the 
 library. 
 
 Jack has come to himself sometime ago,, but 
 was too stiff and cold to care to move. So he 
 lay still where he was. He opens his eyes 
 to see a woman in white satin, with diamonds 
 gleaming in the smooth folds of her dark, 
 braided hair, bending over him. For the 
 moment, he imagines he beholds some beautiful 
 creation of dreamland— not a real woman in 
 flesh and blood. And years afterwards, when 
 in the wilds of California and the gay city of 
 San Francisco, in the depths of an American 
 pine forest, and up the banks of the Yang-t^se- 
 Kiang, he remembers how fair his mother looked 
 in the radiance of the moonlight. They are 
 very like each other— ^this mother and son — 
 only Jack is the plain edition of a charming 
 woman. Both have black hair and steel-grey 
 eyes, with black lashes and black brows ; 
 but Mrs. Ferrier's mouth and nose are well 
 formed, while Jack^s are nothing out of the 
 ordinary. 
 
 " My dear boy," she says, placing her arms 
 tenderly round him, '' you have been in trouble, 
 I hear. Why did not you admit you had done 
 it, if you had V 
 
 '^ I wasn^t going to say Fd done it when I
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 13 
 
 hadn^t. I wouldn^t to escape a worse thrashing 
 than I had to-night/^ replies the boy, sturdily 
 and somewhat sulkily. 
 
 '^ You did not do it then, Jack?'^ 
 
 '' No, mother, I didn't/' 
 
 Mrs. Terrier stoops down and kisses her 
 youngest child, the apple of her eye, her daily 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Father does rile a fellow so ; he never be- 
 lieves one, even upon one's oath. And then he 
 keeps saying he must ^ break' one in. I'd die 
 sooner than be broken in." 
 
 " Jack, Jack ! he says you were sulky, 
 but I think he was mistaken. You know he 
 valued the poultry greatly, and it is very annoy- 
 ing that they should have been killed. It was 
 natural he was angry. But, my dear boy, what 
 is the matter with your jacket ? Have you 
 torn it ?" 
 
 '' No," says Jack, " it's the ground-ashes 
 that did it. But it's an old jacket j so it's no 
 matter." 
 
 " You must be terribly hurt," she exclaims, 
 turning the lamp so as to throw light on his 
 back. ^^Why, your jacket and shirt are slit to 
 
 bits ! Surely your father " she stops, for to 
 
 preserve peace and harmony between father and 
 son is the object of her life^ and young as he is^
 
 14 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Jack has a keen sense of justice. He believes his 
 father has a pleasure in singling him out as an 
 offender on all occasions. Mrs. Ferrier is anxious 
 to remove this unfortunate feeling, but this 
 event will not tend to improve their relations. 
 
 " My back will be all serene in a couple of 
 weeks. I daresay it is black and blue. It^s 
 my hand that hurts most/^ pulling it out from 
 his trousers^-pocket. The handkerchief had dried 
 into the wound, and an attempt to drag it off 
 produced a flow of blood. " Take care of your 
 pretty gown, mother. It^ll make no end of a 
 mess of it/^ he cries, anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, never mind the gown,^' she says, " you 
 had better go to bed now, and I'll try and 
 doctor up this poor hand.^' 
 
 Mark is sleeping in Jack's room ; but his 
 qualms of conscience keep him still awake. He 
 is a warm-hearted boy^ sincerely attached to 
 Jack, and considerably spoilt by the uncle and 
 aunt who, in the absence of either father or 
 mother, have brought him up. He shams being 
 asleep, however, while Mrs. Ferrier, after pinning 
 her white satin gown out of her way, bathes 
 Jack's hand with warm water, and is thus 
 enabled to remove the dried stiffened handker- 
 chief. He hears Mrs. Ferrier wonder why Jack 
 did not say he had not been in the shrubbery
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 15 
 
 that morning, as William could have proved he 
 Tvas with him at the pond ; and listens to Jack^s 
 reply, it would have been useless, Mr. Ferrier 
 having determined beforehand he was guilty. 
 
 " Are you warmer now V asks Mrs. Ferrier. 
 
 " Yes, this jolly hot stuff has warmed me to 
 the ends of my feet. Give Luke there a wine- 
 glass of it. He tried to beg me off, you 
 know.^' 
 
 Luke is compelled to sit up and partake of 
 the negus, and it is doubtful if any coals of fire 
 ever felt hotter, or if any act of Jack^s could 
 have gone further towards knitting together and 
 cementing firmer his respect and friendship for 
 his chum. 
 
 " You are very kind, Mrs. Ferrier," he stam- 
 mers. 
 
 " I am fond of boys, especially of school 
 boys," smiles the pretty woman, who shines as 
 much at home as in society. She does not wish 
 to " mollycoddle" her sons, and trusts they 
 will grow up brave, fearless, truth-speaking men, 
 but she resolves Jack shall never again be so 
 severely punished as he has been this evening. 
 Such a little lad, too, she thinks, as she looks at 
 the dark head reposing on the white pillow. How 
 could Mr. Ferrier have done it ? It was a pity 
 he should be so fatally convinced that Jack of
 
 16 BROWN AS A BERRSr. 
 
 necessity must always do wrong, and never 
 right. 
 
 " Mother, you^re a trump ^ says Jack sud- 
 denly, pulling her face down to him by the un- 
 injured hand, and giving her a hearty kiss. 
 
 Then Mrs. Terrier whispers something. 
 
 " I weant, I weant," he answers, in broad 
 Lincolnshire, ^' Fll niver forgive ^un.''^ 
 
 ^' Yes, you will, dear.-*^ 
 
 " Well,"" very reluctantly, " for you I will.^'' 
 
 Mark lies awake for some time after Mrs. 
 Terrier has gone. What a nasty little sneak I 
 have been, he reflects. But if it were to come 
 over again, he knows he would just do the same. 
 Now that the room is dark and the whole house 
 hushed and quiet, he thinks he might unburden 
 his conscience. Now or never. 
 
 " Jack,^^ he calls, '^ Jack — I say, Jack.''^ But 
 the only answer is a prolonged and prosaic 
 snore. So, having done his duty, and relieved 
 his mind by attempting to tell, he turns over on 
 his side and goes to sleep.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 17 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 It is six years since Mr. Ferrier was enraged by 
 the mysterious death of his prize poultry. This 
 still remains unexplained, and probably will con- 
 tinue to do so. However, it has long ago been 
 forgotten. 
 
 The family party, consisting of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ferrier, Charity, William, and Jack, are 
 in the library, where Jack had been thrashed 
 that winter evening for what he had never 
 done. 
 
 Now it is summer time. 
 
 Mr. Ferrier is speaking. 
 
 '^You may do as you like. Jack, but you are 
 a fool if you refuse. It is eight hundred a year, 
 even if you clap in a curate and pay him a 
 hundred. You need only preach one sermon 
 in the year. That^s what old Burnley did. 
 Preached one sermon in the twelve months, 
 drove to church in his carriage, brought his own 
 port with him — easy as A B C.^^ 
 
 "I don't think I'm fitted for the Church,^' 
 replies Jack, quietly. He is a tall well-made 
 youth, rather in the hobbledehoy stage as yet, 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 but giving promise of beings thougb not hand- 
 some, a manly-looking fellow. " Besides, I should 
 not like to put in a curate to do all the hard 
 •work and give him only a hundred a year, while 
 I did nothing and was paid eight hundred. It 
 doesn*t seem fair.^^ 
 
 " You are very silly, Jack,^' says Charity. 
 She has grown into an elegant woman, and is 
 now engaged to a Lieutenant Napier, who has 
 excellent prospects from a wealthy great-uncle, 
 who has already reached the age of threescore 
 years and ten. 
 
 " What would you advise me to do, mother T^ 
 asks Jack. 
 
 '' What you think right and honourable,''^ re- 
 joins Mrs. Terrier. " I should like much the 
 best to have you settled near us; but if it is 
 against your inclinations, I had rather you did 
 not." 
 
 '^ You^ll never have such an opportunity 
 again,''-' pursues Mr. Terrier. "And think of 
 the position you would have. A clergyman can 
 move in the best society, and '' 
 
 '* You might be a bishop, and be called my 
 lord," suggests Charity. 
 
 " As well say an archbishop at once," laughs 
 Jack. " Oh yes ; and l^d have you all over to 
 stay with me three months in the year at the
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 19 
 
 Archiepiscopal Palace. ' How does that sound 
 for high/ as a Yankee chap I met the other day 
 said V 
 
 " Your figure is just suited for the style of 
 dress^ knee-breeches and all that/^ says William. 
 
 " I am not cut out for a parson/-* returns 
 Jack. " Why, when I stood up in the pulpit to 
 preach and saw the congregation sitting before 
 me, I should be in such a blue funk, I^d want to 
 hook out into the vestry. I shouldn^t be a bit 
 happier for being called my lord. In fact, it 
 would make me very uncomfortable. It requires 
 a special vocation to become a clergyman, and I 
 haven^t got any vocation. You would be having 
 serious complaints that the Rev. J. Terrier at- 
 tended coursing matches and steeple-chases; 
 that he hunted in pink in Lent — I shouldn't 
 be able to help it, if Td a good horse, and 
 there happened to be a meet with the scent 
 lying well — or that he drove tandem to 
 church.'^ 
 
 " Vocation be hanged \" breaks in Mr. Terrier. 
 " You don't want a vocation. Any one can be a 
 clergyman. YouVe only to get up a certain 
 tone in reading ; and as to preaching the 
 sermons, you can buy a lot ready to hand, and 
 you can copy them out on Saturday night in 
 clear writing.'^ 
 
 2— :j
 
 20 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ^^ I am very mucli obliged to Mr. Tresham 
 for the offer, but I must decline it/-* says 
 Jack. 
 
 " Then you are a born fool, and I shall 
 wash my hands of you altogether/^ replies Mr. 
 Ferrier, angrily. ^' Now, Alice, don^t back hira 
 up in his folly. ^' 
 
 " It isnH that I wont : it^s because I can't, 
 mother/^ responds Jack, looking appealingly at 
 Mrs. Terrier. 
 
 "Well, Jack, if you wont accept it, 1^11 tell 
 you what I shall do. I shall pay your outfit to 
 Shanghai, and your journey money, and give 
 you three hundred pounds to keep yourself until 
 you find something to do. I daresay Luke 
 Mark will give you some help. You understand 
 that is your portion. I canH afford a penny 
 more, so it will be useless your attempting to 
 ask me. If it is not enough, you must go 
 without.-'' 
 
 " Oh, John ; it's such a distance across the 
 sea to China,'' pleads Mrs. Ferrier. 
 
 " Now, Jack," says her husband, in a more 
 conciliatory tone, '^ if you go away, you'll break 
 your mother's heart, and it will be the fault of 
 your obduracy. Somehow or another she is 
 awfully attached to you, young scamp as you are. 
 Don't you see it would be better for yourself
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY, 21 
 
 and for all of us if you would agree to be a 
 clergyman and settle at Marshley close beside 
 us ? You could do all those things you spoke of 
 in moderation. Muscular Christianity is the 
 order of the day/' 
 
 " If mother really wants me, and thinks I 
 ought, ril try to enter the Church; but I 
 know I was never made for a parson. One 
 ought to have better motives than a good settle- 
 ment in life, good society, and good position — 
 and honestly those would be mine/'' 
 
 " Then I think Jack had better not force 
 himself,^' replies Mrs. Ferrier. '' If any good is 
 to come of it, I thoroughly agree with him, the 
 motives ought to be of the very highest and 
 purest character, as it is the noblest profession 
 on earth.^' 
 
 « Very well," answers Mr. Ferrier. '^ Then 
 it's the three hundred pounds and China. You 
 always spoilt that boy, Alice.'' 
 
 " Dear Jack 1 I don't know how I shall ever 
 part with him." 
 
 ^'^ He ought to have gone into the Church, and 
 there would have been no parting for you. 
 Fancy a fat living of 900/. a year, and hardly 
 any work to do, going a begging !"
 
 22 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 It is a magnificent moonlight night in the Island 
 of Formosa. 
 
 The air is alive with fireflies,, and the long 
 rolling waves shine with phosphoric light. The 
 Datura trees wave their blooming masses as a 
 night breeze passes by, and one or two perfumed 
 spikes fall sleepily from among them to the 
 ground. Far over the moonlit waters the silver 
 radiance glimmers, showing a sail and the red 
 gleam of a lamp at the head of a steamer an- 
 chored at a bend in the bay, some little distance 
 from the shore. 
 
 Moored high and dry on the beach is a boat, 
 and two sailors in the dress of " Greenes Mer- 
 chant Service '' are waiting near it. 
 
 Through the tropical splendour of the glorious 
 southern night come a man and a woman, both 
 in the prime of life and beauty. She rides a 
 milk-white ox, which crushes the sweet-scented 
 waxen cinnamon flowers beneath its heavy feet. 
 They go under arches of scarlet and purple 
 passion flowers, among which the fireflies flit in
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 23 
 
 and out ; their dancing lights flickering hither 
 and thither like tiny globules of flame over the 
 Leads of the man and woman, as they journey 
 downwards to the sea shore. 
 
 The man leans his hand caressingly on the 
 arm of the woman, when they are within a 
 few paces of the boat and the sailors, and looks 
 up into her face. 
 
 '^ My Lilith V he says, with profound tender- 
 ness in his deep tones, " mon idole ! mon 
 ^me !" 
 
 *^^Will you be faithful after what I have 
 abandoned for you ?" she asks. " I have for- 
 saken all to follow you.''
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OOD mornings Mum ; I hope you haf 
 brouglit your umbrella with you. The 
 weather here has been very wet and stormy. All 
 the pupils have cried one after the oder. It is one 
 great consolation to see you, for you never cry, 
 Thyrza. You are as dry as von leetle sponge.''^ 
 
 Sitting down at the piano, Thyrza E-utherfurd 
 strikes the first notes of the Sonata pathetique. 
 Mr. Spindler rises from his chair and paces 
 round the room,, his hands behind his back, 
 and beats time with a long ruler. He is an 
 elderly man, very fat and stumpy, with strongly 
 marked aquiline features, snow white hair, and 
 an irrepressible propensity for taking unlimited 
 quantities of snuff. " Ach, mein Gott ! A wrong 
 note there,^^ he cries, in a tone of unspeakable 
 anguish. " Fit T tell you, Mum, slower, slower ; 
 you play as if your fingers were running away 
 with you. F^ I say, Mum/^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 25 
 
 ^^ There is no r|f printed where I am playing, 
 the girl ventures to remonstrate. 
 
 " Not dere, of course. I mean two bars 
 previous/^ he responds, having looked all over 
 the page to find a place where Fit is marked. 
 " That fingering will never do ! Begin again 
 from the top of the page.^^ 
 
 Accordingly, Thyrza recommences and pro- 
 ceeds smoothly enough for some time ; when 
 Mr. Spindler, suddenly resuming his seat, 
 abruptly jerks her hands from the key-board, 
 exclaiming in a voice of thunder, '^ What are 
 you doing, Mum ?" 
 
 Taken by surprise, and almost electrified by 
 his unexpected attack, she springs up from the 
 music stool, almost overturning it in her rapid 
 movements, and cries out — 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur Spindler V 
 
 " Well, well ! I intended not to terrify thee," 
 says he, consolingly, taking possession of her 
 vacated seat, and running his fingers lightly 
 over the notes. " What wild frightened eyes 
 thou hast ! But that enfant terrible who pre- 
 cede thee, it is one mistake that she learn 
 music ! She make me mad, crazy, distracted. 
 I no able to sit still when she play ! I spik"* 
 English like my own tongue, is it not so ? but 
 she no understand, and when I tell her she is
 
 26 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 all out of time she do nothing but cry_, cry, cry, 
 ' oh !' '* shaking his head and groaning deeply, 
 ^at is awful !'' 
 
 As Mr. Spindler relates his troubles, the 
 twanging of a guitar is heard outside the open 
 window through which the old man sees the 
 sunburnt face of a ragged Italian boy. He 
 is dancing on the pavement to solicit alms for 
 himself and his guinea-pig, which small animal 
 he holds tucked tightly under his arm while 
 he turns and twists and leaps with a grace 
 and litheness in his supple slender limbs that 
 is nature^s own gift. 
 
 A tattered hat adorned with some peacock^s 
 feathers is placed on the back of his jet black 
 locks, beneath which shine a pair of melting 
 brown eyes. An orange-coloured cravat, fastened 
 under his chin, conceals sundry deficiencies in 
 the froDt of his not over-clean shirt, and the 
 guitar is slung over his shoulder by a bit of 
 red twine. 
 
 The street is narrow, and as eaich story rises 
 higher it approaches in proximity to its neigh- 
 bours, so closely that at last the houses almost 
 meet in friendly touch, and only a small piece of 
 sky above is visible to the foot passengers below. 
 Opposite the pension in which Thyrza is having 
 her music lesson is the old hotel of the Flying
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 27 
 
 Dragon^ whither travellers en route for the 
 Rhine country occasionally resort. The gor- 
 geous sign of the Flying Dragon, painted 
 with bright scarlet on a golden ground, which 
 hangs suspended over the grey weather-beaten 
 arched entrance to the courtyard beyond, is the 
 only morsel of colour or light in the sombre 
 dusky rue. 
 
 The diligence, running for the convenience of 
 the public between Villios and Trois d^Or, a 
 little village ten miles distant, has just arrived. 
 The tired dusty horses draw up, and from the in- 
 side of the vehicle descend several jaded English 
 tourists, two Sisters of Charity with sweet gentle 
 faces, one gentleman in a light grey overcoat 
 and a tall handsome woman attired in the 
 barbaric contrast of a grass green satin gown 
 with a ruby bonnet. She has on a thick black 
 veil, and turns her steps at once in the direction 
 of the pension, formerly a convent dedicated to 
 S. Sebastian the Martyr, but now consecrated 
 to the education of young ladies under the 
 fostering care of Miss Holt, a spinster of an un- 
 decided age, though of a very decided temper. 
 
 The Italian picks up some sous thrown to 
 him by the gentleman, and begins again his 
 impromptu tarentelle before the window of the 
 room where Thyrza and Mr. Spindler are sitting,
 
 28 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 this time accompanying his music and dance 
 with a song, in a clear, childish treble voice. 
 •He dances as much for the mere pleasure of 
 being alive this fine spring morning, and for the 
 delight in the quick motion, as for the sake of 
 the hlthy lucre he may gain. 
 
 The Sonata pathetique andante movement is 
 out of the question. 
 
 " I go crazy V^ exclaims Mr. Spindler; " it is 
 but this moment there was ein horrible brass 
 band to whom I give a franc not to play. Then 
 there was a man selling flowers, and a woman 
 with vegetables ; and now this imp has come. It 
 is too moch. Will you go away, sar?^"* 
 
 The Italian laughs, but only redoubles his 
 exertions, singing louder and dancing faster — a 
 picture, in his rags and dirt, for a painter. Mr. 
 Spindler does not take this view of the case 
 at all. 
 
 '^ Andate al diavolo V^ he shouts, at the top 
 of his voice, to the astonished boy, opening the 
 window wider; and doubling his fists, he shakes 
 them menacingly, throwing as much ferocious- 
 ness into his mild blue eyes as he can impart 
 to them. 
 
 Terrified at the irate countenance glaring forth 
 upon him, the child drops his little guinea-pig, 
 which scuttles across the street under the body
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 29 
 
 of the diligence, appearing among the hoofs of 
 the horses. 
 
 " Oh ! my only friend V the boy exclaims, in 
 French,, rushing after his pet. Heedless of his 
 own safety, he crawls beneath the fresh horses 
 the ostler is attaching to the worn-ont rope 
 harness for the return journey to Trois d^Or, 
 and succeeds in catching the guinea-pig ; but as 
 he rises, his foot trips on the loosely-hanging 
 string of his guitar, and he falls, striking his 
 head against a projecting stone of the uneven 
 pavement. There he lies motionless. The guinea- 
 pig, with more affection than is generally sup- 
 posed to be possessed by their species, walks up 
 his breast, looking into his face as if to inquire 
 what is the matter with his master. 
 
 Mr. Spindler, on witnessing the accident, is 
 instantly smitten with remorse, considering him- 
 self the original cause of the misfortune. 
 
 '' Vat haf I done?" he laments ; '^ mein Gott ! 
 the leetle knabe is dead, and I haf killed him ! 
 Thyrza, run quickly — get through the window — 
 you jomp easily down ; it is but von leetle 
 distance. Go, and I will come out by the front 
 door. Go," seeing Thyrza hesitate, " Miss Holt 
 will not know — she is at the other side of the 
 house — and if she does, I will settle everything. 
 Run."
 
 30 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 In obedience to his orders, Thyrza lets lierself 
 drop down into tlie street by the window, which 
 is only about two feet from the ground, and 
 hastens to the assistance of the boy. 
 
 The gentleman in the light overcoat, who 
 arrived in the diligence, has hitherto been occu- 
 pied in counting over his luggage, but he aban- 
 dons this employment on noticing the mishap to 
 the small Italian, and by the time Thyrza reaches 
 the hotel of the Flying Dragon, has lifted the 
 child from the ground and is sitting on the 
 pavement, holding him in his arms. The guinea- 
 pig has taken refuge in the pocket of the boy^s 
 threadbare, tattered jacket, and peers curiously 
 out with its round, black eyes. 
 
 " I think I will carry him into the hotel," 
 says the gentleman, speaking apparently more 
 for his own benefit than for that of any one in 
 particular. Then he addresses Thyrza directly. 
 
 " Perhaps you will have the kindness to help 
 me in rising. The boy is not a light weight.^"* 
 
 Thyrza extends her hand. He seizes it with 
 no very gentle grasp, and, regaining his feet, 
 enters the doorway of the Flying Dragon. 
 Thyrza follows at a modest distance behind him 
 to see what the end will be. In her way she 
 nearly stumbles headlong over a pile of luggage, 
 addressed to J. Ferrier^ Esq. A porter is
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 31 
 
 arranging the boxes in a curiously artistic man- 
 ner, placing the small parcels first and the large 
 ones on the top of them, the result of which she 
 inwardly prophesies will be an immediate down- 
 fall. 
 
 Just opposite an open door reveals a large 
 fire blazing in a capacious grate, a clean sanded 
 floor, several rows of shining brass, copper, 
 and pewter pots, pans and dish-covers ; cup- 
 boards filled with china and crockeryware orna- 
 ment the darkened walls, while a pleasant smell, 
 as of savoury meat cooking, issues into the 
 passage. 
 
 Mr. Terrier halts here a moment, then turns 
 in at a door on the lefthand side of the 
 kitchen. This room is misty with smoke, and 
 reeking with the fumes of tobacco. It is the 
 billiard-room of the hotel, where travellers, if 
 they wish, may also be provided with coifee and 
 the petite presse of the day. 
 
 Originally the Flying Dragon was a noble- 
 man^s house, and it still retains traces of its 
 former aristocratic owner in the ornaments 
 of carved wood which decorate the mantel-pieces 
 of most of the apartments. The billiard-room 
 is panelled with black oak^ one large thick beam, 
 ornamented with rich carvings of pomegranates 
 and hop leaves, crosses transversely the low
 
 32 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ceiling, let in witli paintings on wood of various 
 historic scenes, executed with rather more than 
 ordinary skill by some Flemish painter long since 
 dead and gone. The fireplace is wide, and inlaid 
 with encaustic tiles. Properly speaking there is 
 no grate ; an iron brazier, rusty with age and 
 damp, in winter holds a handful of fire, but for 
 the nonce the brazier contains a delf jug filled 
 with spring flowers, whose scent is completely 
 lost in the fumes of tobacco. 
 
 In this quaint room, in which one would 
 rather fancy the gay costumes of two hundred 
 years ago than the modern, tame, stifi" apparel, 
 are placed a couple of exceedingly worn out 
 horse-hair sofas, a looking glass with a tarnished 
 gilt frame swathed in yellow gauze ; and several 
 chairs, evidently of the same date and origin 
 as the sofas, are ranged in various corners. 
 
 " Poor little lad V' says Mr. Ferrier, laying 
 the boy down with gentle hands on one of the 
 sofas. " Hallo ! Adolphe, Alphonse, Jean,^-* he 
 calls without in the passage, pausing a moment 
 to apostrophize the porter to have a care of his 
 luggage ; " these are common French Christian 
 names, are they not ? How deaf these people 
 are ! Well, Providence, they say, helps those 
 who help themselves. Can you give me some 
 assistance. Mademoiselle ?''
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 33 
 
 Emptying some water from a carafFe standing 
 on the table into a tumbler,, he asks Thyrza to 
 hold the glass for him. But when she ap- 
 proaches the sofa she turns sick and faint ; the 
 child^s face is covered with blood, that has 
 trickled down from the wound in his forehead 
 staining the smart orange scarf, while his eyes 
 are widely distended, without any expression or 
 emotion in the staring balls. 
 
 " Je ne puis pas, Monsieur/^ she stammers, 
 with an involuntary retrograde movement, and 
 nearly letting the tumbler slip from her trembling 
 grasp. 
 
 " Just like a woman V^ exclaims Mr. Terrier, 
 in very Anglicized French. "Are you going to 
 faint too, and make a scene ? Stand back. 
 Mademoiselle, and let the patient have as much 
 air as can be obtained in this stuffy little 
 room.^' 
 
 A laugh greets this speech, which is more 
 intelligible from the manner of delivery than 
 from the correctness of the grammar, and look- 
 ing round, Thyrza discovers that the room is by 
 no means so destitute of tenants as it was at 
 first, but on the contrary, is pretty well filled 
 with commis-voyageurs, strolling artists, and 
 one or two actors who belong to a provincial 
 company. They have entered by another door 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 from the salle-a-manger. Most of them are 
 sallow bearded Frenchmen, and they are gesti- 
 culating and vociferating noisily, after the fashion 
 of their country when anything uncommon 
 occurs. 
 
 " Take a chair and sit down in comfort — do 
 not stand there looking ready to drop. I 
 thought at least I was sure of some help in 
 trouble from a woman, even though she may be 
 good for nothing else.'''' 
 
 ^^ I am not going to faint, Monsieur,^^ she 
 answers, indignantly, in a sweet low voice, 
 which draws the attention of the odd dozen 
 Frenchmen upon her. Perceiving their eyes 
 fixed in her direction, she flushes scarlet, and 
 wishes profoundly that Mr. Spindler would 
 make haste and deliver her from her embar- 
 rassing position among a number of men whom 
 she had never seen before. 
 
 "If you are not going to faint, take the 
 handkerchief and sponge like this," showing her 
 how to manipulate the linen, "while I see if 
 that bell over there will ring. He ought to have 
 a medical man at once." 
 
 Thyrza tries to obey, but her nerve fails her 
 on touching the death-like face over which a 
 crimson streak is flowing, and she grasps hold of 
 the back of the chair for support. She is very
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 35 
 
 angry witli her own stupidity — still she cannot 
 help it. If she had been cast in an heroic 
 mould, she would have been mistress of the 
 position in a moment — have bound up the wound 
 without the slightest previous knowledge being 
 necessary, and by her elegance and ease of 
 manner have charmed all the men, including Mr. 
 Ferrier, at once. That is what she ought to 
 have done. Instead of this, she feels supremely 
 gauche, awkward, and out of place. With the 
 instinct common to every woman who wishes to 
 appear to the greatest advantage and is painfully 
 conscious of being untidy, she puts her hand up 
 to her head, and looks at herself in the mirror. 
 The result is not flattering to her vanity. By 
 its kindly aid she sees that her hair hangs about 
 her shoulders and waist in rough masses, her 
 collar is crumpled and awry. The fact, also, 
 that she has neither hat nor jacket is palpable, 
 and her brown, ink-stained fingers would be 
 much improved by the addition of a pair of 
 gloves. Mr. Terrier observes her glance at 
 herself in the mirror. If the reflection in the 
 glass be correct, her complexion is of a greenish- 
 yellow hue, suggestive of recent recovery from 
 jaundice, while one side of her face is swollen 
 considerably larger than the other. 
 
 "Not a pretty girl,'' thinks Mr. Ferrier, 
 
 3—2
 
 36 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 nearly laughing ontriglit at the mortified expres- 
 sion of Thyrza's countenance;, " and certainly'^ 
 (taking into consideration her common dress, 
 made without any attempt at trimming and very 
 little at a fit, being the joint result of the united 
 labours of JNIiss Holt and herself) " one of the 
 untidiest I ever saw/'' 
 
 But the old yellow gown, baggy and ill-made 
 though it be, cannot wholly conceal the graceful 
 proportions of a slender waist and a figure just 
 rounding into womanhood, while the white collar 
 closes over the soft curves of a smooth brown 
 throat on which the small head is exquisitely 
 set, and the short dress shows dainty little 
 ankles. 
 
 " Was there ever anything so utterly foolish, 
 so vain, so frivolous, so useless in every sense 
 of the word as a young, silly girl V he 
 asks. 
 
 " I am not useless, Monsieur,'^ protests Thyrza, 
 with an indignant flash of her hazel eyes. 
 
 "The proof of the pudding is in the eating. 
 Pray what can you do V 
 
 " I can make omelettes, and darn stockings, 
 and teach English, and^^ — emphatically but 
 vaguely — '' oh, heaps of things '/"' 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! But I do not want you to 
 exercise your skill in these matters at present,^-*
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 37 
 
 he answers J bluntly ; " what did you come here 
 for?^^ 
 
 " Mr. Spindler sent me to help about the 
 little boy/' answers she, twisting her slim_, ink- 
 stained fingers together, and forgetting Mr. 
 Terrier knows nothing of Mr. Spindler. 
 
 " An immense deal you have helped, have you 
 not ? Well, since you can do nothing else, try 
 and ring the bell.'' 
 
 " I— I shan't," she returns. '' Will you ?" 
 she asks of one of the Frenchmen who is stand- 
 ing near her. There is a general rush to the 
 bell in compliance with her wishes, and the man 
 who is successful in reaching it first pulls so 
 vigorously that the bell does not stop ringing 
 for more than five minutes when set in motion, 
 and the rope — rotten, no doubt, from age — snaps 
 in two. 
 
 The landlady, thus imperatively summoned, 
 quits her cooking operations in the kitchen, and 
 arrives in the billiard-room very red in the face, 
 and bringing with her an overpowering odour of 
 garlic ; the landlord, the ostler, and several 
 females present themselves in the doorway, utter- 
 ing shrill or bass exclamations, according to their 
 sex, of '^Mon Dieu !" '^ Oh, ciel !" "Dame!" 
 and " Sacre !" with a liberal allowance of re's to 
 the latter.
 
 38 BROWN AS A BEJIRY. 
 
 '^ Where is de leetle knabe ? I hope I haf 
 not killed him !" anxiously inquires Mr. Spindler^ 
 waddling into the room. 
 
 " Oh, he will come round — have no fear of 
 that/^ replies Mr. Ferrier, translating literally 
 the English into French. " I have sent one of 
 these duffers for a doctor, and we shall have him 
 right in a trice.^^ 
 
 " I no comprehend/^ says Mr. Spindler. On 
 which Thyrza renders the above into French. 
 Duffer isj however, untranslatable. Thyrza, not 
 being versed in English slang, pauses at the 
 word. 
 
 ^^ Say bete, or stupid,^' rejoins Mr. Ferrier ; 
 '' either word will do.^^ 
 
 Mr. Spindler takes a mighty pinch of snuff, 
 and a ray of hope illumines his doleful visage. 
 
 " You no think anything will happen to me, 
 sare?''-' he asks, in his broken English^ having 
 detected the British element in the good Sama- 
 ritan ; ^'^ I nevare toch him. I only say *^Andate 
 al diavolo P and he run and fall on de oder side 
 of the street.-'^ 
 
 " Your mind may be quite easy on that 
 subject,^^ answers Mr. Ferrier, " especially in a 
 country where the jury always bring in ' ex- 
 tenuating circumstances.'' They are a tender- 
 hearted set of people here. They vivisect poor
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 39 
 
 innocent animals in the name and interests of 
 science, and let a fellow off with next to nothing 
 who has perhaps chopped his father and mother 
 into little bits V 
 
 With the kindly presence of Mr. Spindler 
 Thyrza^s courage revives. She ventures to un- 
 fasten the boy^s cravat, and moisten his dry lips 
 with water. Mr. Ferrier asks for some brandy, 
 and pours a small quantity down the child^s 
 throat. He has bound up the ghastly wound, 
 but the blood still continues to ooze through the 
 tight bandages. 
 
 " That is better,^' says Mr. Ferrier to Thyrza. 
 " 1 wish I had had a needle and thread to draw 
 it together with. It would soon heal, and 
 scarcely leave a scar." 
 
 At this point the doctor is ushered into the 
 billiard-room. He proceeds to examine the 
 amount of injury the child has sustained, pro- 
 nounces the bandages to be cleverly arranged, 
 and decides the wound must be stitched up. 
 Then he produces a case of glittering steel instru- 
 ments, the sight of which causes Thyrza to shiver 
 and shut her eyes, and in a few moments the 
 operation is over. Shortly afterwards, the boy 
 gives a deep sigh, and tries to sit up. He 
 fumbles about with his fingers as if groping for 
 something, and is evidently searching for the
 
 40 BROWN AS A BERET. 
 
 guinea-pig. Thyrza lifts it out of his pocket, 
 and places it in Ms hands. A smile of intelli- 
 gence lights up the thin countenance. He feels 
 his pet, and strokes it carefully. It is not hurt 
 in any way. 
 
 " Lie still, little man. You will be able to 
 get up to-morrowj but you must rest for the 
 present. Will you tell him. Mademoiselle ? He 
 cannot make out my French. ^^ 
 
 ^' He is alive — he no die V exclaims Mr. 
 Spindler, joyfully. " I dance for happiness V' 
 
 So saying, on the spur of the moment he 
 executes several pirouettes of delight at the relief 
 to his feelings, which Mr. Ferrier regards much 
 as Michal regarded the triumphal dancing of 
 David before the ark. 
 
 " I pay this gentleman for his attendance on 
 the knahe/' continues Mr. Spindler, pulling out 
 his purse, and addressing himself to the doctor. 
 
 '^'^Not at all — allow me,"^' interi-upted Mr. 
 Ferrier ; " it was purely an accident. You had 
 nothing to do with it.-*^ 
 
 " I will look in to-morrow and inquire how 
 he is,^^ persists Mr. Spindler. 
 
 "By all means, and I daresay you can 
 contrive to get him apprenticed to some decen,t 
 employment to save him from going about the 
 country begging his bread. There is nothing
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 41 
 
 further for you to do/'' adds Mr. Ferrier, coolly ; 
 *^ so, I wish you bon jour. Thank you^ Made- 
 moiselle, for your valuable services/^ with a 
 mischievous look in his steel-grey eyes. " Shall 
 you return by the window in the same way as 
 you came ?" 
 
 Thyrza would willingly part with her most 
 precious possession in exchange for a witty and 
 crushing reply wherewith to extinguish Ferrierj 
 but having no answer ready, she merely answers, 
 "Adieu, Monsieur.''^ 
 
 As she and Mr. Spindler go back to the pension, 
 the lady of the green gown passes by them into 
 the hotel, and asks if the landlady can supply 
 her with apartments.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 B*^HEKE has just been a shower of rain ; 
 IHiM the clouds have cleared away ; the sun 
 shines brightly again; the air is sweet and 
 balmy ; grey and golden-brown-dressed sparrows 
 chirp gaily as they fly under the eaves of the 
 pension, with long ends of straw dangling from 
 their bills; the blackbirds sing in the apple boughs, 
 while they think of the surreptitious feasts they 
 will have in the summer on the juicy cherries 
 and ripe strawberries ; and the " silver spears^"* of 
 rain-drops still fall pattering through the thick 
 leaves. From where Thyrza is sitting, perched 
 on a twisted branch of an old apple-tree that 
 bears nothing in the autumn save a few sour 
 dwarf green apples, she can see little beyond a 
 sea of soft rose-tinted blossoms. Right across, 
 divided by the river, half a dozen paces from 
 her, stretch acres upon acres of pink-and -white 
 orchards, only varied by the fresh green foliage
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 43 
 
 that is rejoicing in its escape from its Tvinter 
 shroud. To the left lies the town of Villios, 
 grey and hoary, with red-tiled roofs to most of 
 the houses, some of which having lately been 
 repaired, turn into bright scarlet in the rays of 
 the evening sun. Some distance nearer is the 
 narrow Norman bridge, beneath which the river 
 flows tranquilly to the sea, bearing on its breast 
 the faded petals of " angeF^ blue forget-me-nots, 
 and the swans, like those on " still St. Mary^s 
 lake, float double — swan and shadow.^^ Close 
 beside the bridge is a blacksmith^s forge: the clink, 
 clink of the hammer comes musically across 
 the river, red sparks fly out at the door ; blan- 
 chisseuses are wringing linen in the water ; two 
 or three boys are fishing with willow wands as 
 rods, their breeches tucked up above their knees ; 
 behind is the terraced gardens of the pension, 
 its stifi", straight, formal walks, its cloisters and 
 gables. 
 
 Miss Holt, the head of the pension, is at 
 tea with her pupils. Thyrza is generally hungry, 
 as it is given only to schoolgirls and schoolboys 
 to be ; but on this evening her appetite has 
 deserted her, and she is enjoying the sweets 
 of her favourite seat — a forbidden pleasure, 
 and in consequence a much prized and doubly 
 precious one.
 
 44 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 In a short time she will be obliged to go into 
 the house to superintend the younger pupils 
 preparing their lessons^ while she mends the 
 house linen. Having reached the mature age 
 of seventeen her education is supposed to be 
 finished^ and as Miss Holt gives out she receives 
 but little money in payment for her board, 
 Thyrza in return saves Miss Holt the expense 
 of employing a junior English teacher ; and Mr. 
 Spindler, out of disinterested friendship, continues 
 gratuitously his music lessons. 
 
 In July the holidays begin, but there will 
 not be much amusement for Thyrza : she will 
 be left alone in the pension with old Mere 
 Pantoutfle, while Miss Holt is enjoying herself 
 in London or Brighton. Being an orphan 
 without a fortune, Thyrza has her own way to 
 make. Occasionally she has visions of going to 
 Stuttgardt, as Mr. Spindler suggests, to study 
 music and become a professional. Anything 
 will be better than droning out her existence 
 in this dead-alive pension : it would even be 
 pleasanter to be a housemaid or one of the 
 peasant women who work hard in the fields, 
 for they are independent and can earn money, 
 whilst Thyrza never knows what it is to call 
 a sixpence her own, and for years has never 
 had a new dress, always wearing Miss Holt^s
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 45 
 
 old ones. All ! if she could only go to Stutt- 
 gardt ! But then, where is the money to come 
 from ? To be sure, she does not want for rela- 
 tions. She has several uncles and aunts, all 
 married and well-to-do in the world, and pro- 
 vided with more or less numerous families ; but 
 Mr. and Mrs. Rutherfiird having offended their 
 people by their marriage, Thyrza shrinks from 
 asking for their assistance. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Rutherfurd had made an im- 
 prudent match and married on about ninety 
 pounds a year. Mr. Rutherfurd was a gentle- 
 man born, the younger son of the Rutherfurds 
 of High Riggs, a well-known Scotch family of 
 distinction. Dreamy, enthusiastic, always build- 
 ing improbable speculations as to what he would 
 do if he had '' time to look about him," im- 
 practical, unpunctual, a mere child in business 
 matters, John Rutherfurd was totally unfittec^ 
 to fight his way through a contest in whicl 
 the weakest go to the wall. Both he and his 
 wife having seriously displeased their relatives 
 by their marriage, when impecunious times came 
 both husband and wife vainly appealed to their 
 people for assistance. Mrs. Rutherfurd^s sister 
 had married a captain in the navy, called Salton, 
 now appointed Inspecting Commander of Her 
 Majesty^s Coastguard at Marshley-on-the- Wolds
 
 46 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 in L shire. Captain and Mrs. Salton were 
 
 well off, but tlieir opinion was that !Mrs. Ruther- 
 furd had chosen her lot, and now she must make 
 the best of it. She had been deaf to good 
 advice, and must reap the consequences. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Rutherfurd found the consequences 
 by no means pleasant. Love may have sufficed 
 for all wants in a past age, but it certainly does 
 not in this age of prosaic realities. At last, 
 through the interest of a friend in Shanghai, a 
 situation as clerk in a bank in that city was 
 offered to Mr. Rutherfurd, which he was glad 
 enough to accept; and accordingly, eighteen 
 years before this little sketch begins, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Rutherfurd went out to China. After a 
 brief sojourn in Shanghai Mrs. Rutherfurd 
 succumbed to the fever of the country, and a 
 few months later Mr. Rutherfurd followed her 
 to the grave, leaving little Thyrza a legacy to 
 whomsoever would take charge of her. 
 
 One of Mr. Rutherfurd^s friends, a young 
 merchant, Luke Mark by name, goodnaturedly 
 undertook the care of the child, and bringing 
 her over to Europe, placed her on the recom- 
 mendation of a clergyman, whose daughters Miss 
 Holt had educated, at the pension of S. Sebas- 
 tian the Martyr. But who provides the money 
 defraying the expenses of her education, Thyrza
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 47 
 
 does not know. A small sum has hitherto 
 been paid regularly, and Miss Holt never fails 
 to remind the girl that she especially ought to 
 behave herself, and feel deeply grateful, for she 
 has been taught and fed on next door to charity. 
 Mr. Mark, occupied with his business and 
 mercantile transactions in China, never wrote 
 to her ; and Thyrza, on her part, did not trouble 
 him with letters. The years and the seasons 
 came and went : spring wore into summer ; June 
 roses bloomed and faded ; autumn^s harvests 
 were garnered, and winter^s cold winds returned, 
 but no letters, and no relations ever visited the 
 dull pension in the quaint town of Villios, where 
 Thyrza spent her childish days. Other girls 
 grew up and left school; they had their friends, 
 their fathers and mothers, and sisters and 
 brothers. Thyrza^s wistful dark eyes often filled 
 with tears, and her face had a strange hungry 
 look when she saw the happy family parties that 
 assembled at the Christmas and Midsummer holi- 
 days. The girls frequently invited her to pay them 
 visits at their homes, but Miss Holt invariably ob- 
 jected. How could Thyrza go gadding about out 
 visiting when she had no clothes and no money 
 to spare ? It was a likely thing that she (Miss 
 Holt) could afford to give Thyrza railway tickets ! 
 Did she not, as it was, keep her merely out of
 
 48 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 kindness because she was a waif and stray, of 
 no consequence to any one ; a creature wlio^ if 
 she died to-morrow, would never be missed 
 from the world's stage ? Thyrza might be very 
 thankful to have so good a home as the pension. 
 What had she to complain of? Well^ when 
 put down and classified on paper, perhaps not 
 much, but to a warm-hearted girl like Thyi'za, 
 life with Miss Holt is simply starvation. She 
 is just at the age when sympathy and kindness 
 are everything, and Miss Holt has about as much 
 sympathy for the little whims and vanities of 
 Thyrza as a piece of stone has for the lichen 
 which covers it. " If I could but make money V 
 she muses, as she sits in the apple-tree and 
 watches a fat bumble-bee drowsily buzzing from 
 a pink-scented chaliced flower to a carmine 
 opening bud ; and the shadows of the bridge are 
 reflected — massive piers and grotesque carvings — 
 on the smooth, shining surface of the sleepy river, 
 without a single quiver or ripple to mar the 
 perfection of the duplicate. Below, a sharp- 
 nosed water-rat sidles cautiously along among 
 the tall-bladed grasses ; the scentless dog-violets 
 and golden-marsh marigolds splash into the 
 water ; then the bubbles burst ; the circles 
 diverge, each one growing wider than the last, 
 until they are stranded and wrecked upon an
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 49 
 
 islet of water-lily leaves. The sun is westering 
 towards the vineyard- covered mountains ; the 
 spring twilight slowly creeps up_, and the flush 
 of rosy brilliance fades out from the grey gables 
 of the old pension, the many storied houses, 
 and the warm rich red tones of the peaked, 
 sloping roofs. The boys have left off Ashing; 
 the eldest of them forms them into a regiment 
 of soldiers, placing himself at their head; they 
 shoulder the willow wands as rifles : 
 
 " Aux armes : citoyens ! 
 Formez vos bataillons. 
 Marchez ! marchez ! qu'un sang impur 
 Abreuve nos sillons," 
 
 A strong-minded British female tourist, in- 
 tent upon ^^ doing^" Villios, and getting the full 
 value of her money, looks up from the immortal 
 " Murray^^ in which she reads — " Villios built 
 time of the Goths, &c.,^' to remonstrate with 
 the blanchisseuses who are beating the linen 
 violently with good sized stones. They pay no 
 attention to her interference ; she resolves not 
 to patronize the Villios washerwomen. 
 
 How do other people make money, wonders 
 Thyrza ; and what can she do towards obtaining 
 her purpose. She is not clever and can do 
 nothing particularly well. She is not even 
 certain that she has a real talent for music. 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Then she is by no means pretty, and has not 
 pleasing manners, nor yet the taste and sense 
 when to say and do the right thing. One may 
 say the right tiling, but it is useless to do so 
 ten minutes too late. The difficulty is to judge 
 when is the exact moment. Thyrza sighs and 
 comes to the conclusion she will "just have^^ to 
 go on in the old groove for the remainder of 
 her days, unless something very extraordinary 
 happens such as occurred this morning. 
 
 How rude the strange gentleman was ! He 
 was not at all like a hero. To have made the 
 adventure complete, he ought to have been 
 nearly seven feet high, handsome as Apollo, 
 gallant as Launcelot, chivalrous as King Arthur ; 
 au contraire, he is of the ordinary height, has grey 
 hair, and even in the palmy days of his youth 
 could never by any possibility whatsoever have 
 been called a fine looking man. • As to Thyrza, 
 what a chance she has lost of distinguishing 
 herself. "Time is, time was.'^ The golden 
 opportunity has slipped from her. All she has 
 done creditably was jumping out of the window. 
 That did not take her an instant to accomplish. 
 Suppose some kind uncle should conveniently 
 depart this life, and leave to his dear niece and 
 kinswoman, Thyrza Rutherfurd, his fortune and 
 worldly goods ! Delicious idea ! what costumes
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 51 
 
 and ravisHng toilettes would Tliyrza invest in ! 
 •what gloves and boots ! No more of Miss 
 Holt^s discarded dresses which never fitted her^ 
 and made her look as though she had stufied the 
 body of her gown with the table-cloth ! No 
 more teaching, and mending, and hard words, 
 and sour looks. She will give presents to Mr. 
 Spindler and M. Paul, the barber, who, on a 
 certain memorable occasion unknown to Miss 
 Holt, took Thyrza to the theatre ; she will have 
 a carriage and a pair of ponies, and go on a 
 travelling expedition round the world. Most 
 girls marry, she reflected; no one will marry 
 her. She is not beautiful enough, so the fortune 
 will compensate her for a lover — reasoning 
 which wiser persons than Thyrza have arrived 
 at, if the numerous appKcations for solatium in 
 breach of promise cases may be taken as a criterion. 
 And she will have — well, everyone builds castles 
 in the air, not more substantial, and often about 
 as probable of realization as Thyrza^s chateau en 
 Espagne. But how sweet and pleasant are these 
 dreams ! No annoyances ; no petty vexations ; 
 no worrying trifles enter into their airy halls. 
 We do not calculate for them. Lying under 
 a wide- spreading beech tree, blowing a cloud on 
 a summer day : — in that cozy armchair over the 
 fire after some '48 Port ; — coming home after 
 
 4—2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 BKOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 that splendid spin with the hounds ; rocking 
 lazily as a sunlit sea at the bottom of the 
 boat, with that companion of our joys and 
 troubles, the sharer in our triumphs and down- 
 falls — our pipe, we build charming fabrics of 
 what we will do when we get that money, that 
 living, that '' step,''"' that appointment. After 
 all, if it came true, would the reality be half as 
 fair as our pictured vision ? Does anything 
 ever come up to our expectations ? When 
 the desire of our soul is granted unto us, we 
 often find it valueless. What we thought a 
 precious stone lying among the green fern 
 fronds and veronicas is only a piece of common 
 glass, not worth the exertion of stooping to 
 pick up ; the gold we fancied we had found 
 is dross ; what we bartered our honour and 
 truth away for, rewards us with perfidy; the 
 fruit that tempts us with its soft luscious ex- 
 terior is full of bitterness. The most brilliant 
 and perfect creations of brush or pen fall 
 far short of that still more beautiful original 
 in the artistes brain, which not embodied in 
 the concrete is probably invested in proportion 
 with superior charms. 
 
 There is the half-hour striking from the church 
 tower, whose pinnacles " prick" the evening sky. 
 Thyrza ought to have been in the school-room
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 53 
 
 long ago. She looks out of the apple branches, 
 and, to her horror, sees Miss Holt walking 
 straight down to her pet tree. Adieu vache 
 veau ! We know how poor Alnaschar mourned 
 over the destruction of his future hopes, in the 
 City of Roses. Thyrza hastily gathers up the 
 skirt of the canary- coloured dress, spotted thickly 
 with large black dots the size of a half-crown 
 piece, and prepares for war. With ordinary 
 good fortune. Miss Holt ought not to discover 
 Thyrza^s vicinity; but, as ill-luck will have it, 
 part of the canary skirt flutters into view. The 
 Byron Thyrza has abstracted from Miss Holt^s 
 shelves falls precipitately on to the ground, and 
 a peal of girlish laughter is heard apparently 
 from the depths of the tree. What will Miss 
 Holt say to the Byron ? Thyrza has been told 
 on no consideration to read it, and of course 
 has experienced the greatest wish, like Eve, to 
 see what it is like, and why it is wicked. Further 
 concealment is useless. 
 
 ^' Thyrza ! I am astonished at your behaviour I 
 You are too old now for these tomboy tricks/^ 
 
 A beaming brown face appears from among 
 clusters of shell-tinted white, perfumed apple- 
 blossoms, fresh and bright as the flowers them- 
 selves, and bubbling over with irrepressible 
 merriment.
 
 54 BROWN AS A BEREY. 
 
 '^ Do you want me, Miss Holt ?" she inquires, 
 meekly, aware slie is overdue for her duties in 
 the school-room by three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 " Oh, Thyrza V shaking her head slowly and 
 mournfully, " you will come to no good if you 
 go on in this way ! A young woman at your 
 time of life, who has no fortune to look to, ought 
 to prepare herself for all emergencies. What 
 will become of you T' 
 
 '^ Don^t know, and don^t care.-^' 
 
 '^ Don't care was hanged,^^ says Miss Holt. 
 
 "Then they can^t hang him again,^'' returns 
 Thyrza. "If the worst comes to the worst, 
 why, I will sweep a crossing, or perhaps come 
 out as a coryphee," hoping this will shock Miss 
 Holt, in which aspiration her wishes succeed. 
 Miss Holt is horrified. She turns up the whites 
 of her eyes towards the setting sun in a pious 
 manner, and sighs profoundly. Evidently much 
 consoled by this exhibition of her religious feel- 
 ings, she renews the point with Thyrza, who is 
 forced to spring down from her refuge. She 
 descends with merely the accident of tearing 
 some folds of the dreadful canary garment from 
 the gathers. At this mishap she involuntarily 
 gives a prolonged whistle ; she is fully cognizant 
 of the fact this is a shockingly unladylike, im- 
 proper, and most reprehensible habit — an accom-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 55 
 
 plishment not heard of in Miss Holt^s young 
 days — and, in general, it has the effect upon that 
 lady which shaking a red rag has upon a bull. 
 She looks grave ; Thyrza's sins and offences are 
 great. She is too old now to be shut up in a 
 dark room all day, with the invigorating diet of 
 bread and water as a consolation, in which 
 manner some dreary hours of her childhood 
 have been passed. With commendable presence 
 of mind Thyrza picks up the Byron, very nearly 
 indulging in a farewell whistle, but checking 
 herself in time, she stands still to hear what 
 Miss Holt has got to say. 
 
 Miss Holt has watched the descent of her junior 
 English teacher from the tree with suppressed im- 
 patience. Spare, neat, angular, lynx-eyed, she is 
 the terror of the pension domestics, of the Villios 
 tradespeople, and of the gardener especially, who 
 at this moment is leaning on his spade, not even 
 attempting to work, as she would have remarked 
 if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. If Miss 
 Holt could have had her own way, and arranged 
 the world according to her ideas, the flowers 
 should have toiled and spun for their bright 
 robes, and the birds have done something for 
 their living besides making the earth glad with 
 their songs. Being so industrious herself, the 
 dolce far niente is to her an unutterable abomina-
 
 56 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 tion; people who are delicate, or possessed of 
 nerves, she does not believe in, setting them 
 down as humbugs. On her looking at the 
 gardener, he thinks it advisable to make a show 
 of working, and towards executing this object 
 inserts his spade into the ground in a languid 
 manner, which causes Miss Holt to long to give 
 him a good shaking on the spot. 
 
 " I have got a letter for you, Thyrza.^' 
 
 "A letter for me!" exclaims Thyrza, "wonders 
 
 will never cease,^^ as Miss Holt hands her an 
 
 epistle, duly addressed to " Miss Thyrza Ruther- 
 
 furd, care of Miss Holt, Pension de S. Sebastian 
 
 the Martyr, Departement , France/^ Miss 
 
 Holt has opened it, and made herself acquainted 
 with the contents, which are to this effect : — 
 
 LiLLiESHiLL, May 17th, 1872. 
 
 '^ Dear Miss E-utherfurd, — As I imagine 
 you must now be verging upon that important 
 period when young ladies leave school, I have 
 been thinking about what is to be done re- 
 garding your future. I came home from China 
 via San Francisco and New York, that being 
 a more convenient way than the other round 
 by the Suez Canal, or I should have taken a 
 look at Paris and come on to see you, and the 
 good lady who has been so kind to you. Since
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 57 
 
 my arrival at Lilliesliill I have written to several 
 of your relation Sj as they are your natural 
 protectors,, but they tell me they have as much 
 as they can do to bring up their own families ; 
 of course I can have no idea about your capabi- 
 lities or what plans you may have formed for 
 yourself; however^ I may mention a friend of 
 mine in the neighbourhood of Lillieshill is in 
 want of a governess for her children. She is 
 an extremely amiable woman, and at any rate 
 you would have a good comfortable home. 
 Whether you decide upon accepting the situa- 
 tion or not, I shall be glad to see you ; and my 
 uncle and aunt, Mr. and Miss Lefroy, with 
 whom I am staying for the present, hope you 
 will come and spend two or three weeks with 
 us. I am not sure if I have ever told you 
 so before, but I am not your guardiau, although 
 I have in a measure virtually acted that part. 
 I knew your poor father well, and should be 
 happy for his sake to see his daughter advan- 
 tageously settled in life. I have written to 
 Miss Holt, enclosing a cheque for the last six 
 months of your education, &c., and also an- 
 other for your journey money : should there be 
 more than you require spend it on any trifle 
 you may fancy. I shall be going up to town 
 within a fort nighty and hope therefore that you
 
 58 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 will start as soon (if possible) as you receive 
 this note. With kind regards^ and hoping you 
 will manage your travels in safety. I have 
 given Miss Holt full particulars on the subject, 
 which I have no doubt she will explain to you. 
 " Believe me, yours truly, 
 
 ^' Luke Mark. 
 
 ^' P.S. — Address, Lillieshill, near Queensmuir, 
 Kilniddry shire, Scotland. I see I forgot to write 
 the full address at the beginning of my letter, 
 so to prevent mistakes give it now.^^ 
 
 " I don't want to go,'*^ says Thyrza, with the 
 natural perversity of human nature; now the 
 object of her longings is within her grasp, it 
 suddenly loses its piquant flavour, till at once 
 the pension becomes dear to her. Miss Holt 
 seems her best friend; the verj pile of linen 
 waiting in the school-room for her unwilling 
 fingers to darn the wide and frequent rents and 
 thin places is invested with a fresh light. They 
 are all old familiar acquaintances ; through force 
 of habit she has become accustomed to them, 
 and they to her — one cannot say attached, for 
 it would be difficult for Miss Holt to inspire auy 
 one with affection; she is hard and dry, and 
 never called human being darling in the fifty 
 odd years that have elapsed since Maria Holt
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 59 
 
 first saw tlie light. A loug series of disappoint- 
 ments will wear creases in the softest and 
 sweetest disposition. 
 
 "DonH be ridiculous,, Thyrza/^ answers Miss 
 Holt, testily. ^^ You will have to go. Mr. 
 Mark has paid for your school expenses himself. 
 Now he is tired of doing so, and consequently 
 wishes you to work for yourself.^' 
 
 '^I wonder if he would let me go to Stuttgardt/^ 
 says Thyrza, in a meditative voice. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Who is to support you while 
 you are studying ? Come into the house at 
 once, and I will get you a box, and help you 
 to pack. It is a pity I must lose you. I shall 
 not be so well suited again.^^ 
 
 Miss Holt is quite right. It will be some 
 time before she obtains such a convenient 
 pupil as Thyrza ; one whose money she can 
 pocket, and no awkward questions be asked. 
 They enter the school-room, where a busy 
 murmur of voices is heard from the girls learning 
 their lessons for the following day. In the 
 next room a small child is practising the minor 
 scale of A. She plays the notes irregularly. 
 They come in scrambling like a flock of sheep. 
 In another apartment some one is studying 
 Gounod's march from Faust, and a third a 
 lively Scotch air; all three sounds, the doleful
 
 60 BROWN AS A BEERY. 
 
 scale of A minor ; the soldier's cliorus ; the 
 light tunes, jar and jangle with each other. 
 There is the chair Thyrza ought to have occu- 
 pied, and the big clothes' basket with its freight 
 ready to be repaired. Mademoiselle Lambert, 
 an elderly person with a long nose, black eyes, 
 very thin hair much covered with pomade, and 
 an erection of red silk on the top of her head, 
 has supplied her place. She is devouring a 
 novel called " Georgine," and says warningly, 
 " S-sh ! Marie, vous ne faites rien'' as Miss 
 Holt and Thyrza pass through the school-room. 
 
 "Would not YOU like to return to me, 
 Thyrza, after your visit to Scotland V asks 
 Miss Holt, who has been pondering deeply how 
 inconvenient it is to part with Thyrza, and 
 wondering when she will be able again to pick 
 up so cheap a bargain. 
 
 " No, thank you. Miss Holt,'' answers 
 Thyrza, firmly. Her momentary regret has passed 
 away into a sensation of joy and delight at 
 the prospect of release from the prison-house 
 of the pension, and glowing expectations of what 
 will happen out in the world, of which she 
 knows so little, and paints to herself in such 
 brilliant colours.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OING away, Thyrza ? What will be- 
 come of me without my best pupil ?" 
 laments Mr. Spindler. 
 
 He is standing at the door of the Flying 
 Dragon, whither the diligence in which Thyrza 
 is seated has returned from the pension in order 
 to pick up Madame Dawson^s luggage. Madame 
 Dawson is the lady with the green satin dress 
 and ruby velvet bonnet whom Thyrza watched 
 arrive the morning before, from Trois d^Or. She 
 came for the purpose of installing two of her 
 children under Miss Holt^s fostering care, and 
 to-day she is going to travel as far as Paris. 
 To-morrow she goes to Calais, and will cross 
 from thence to Dover. She intends making 
 some stay in London. Miss Holt has asked 
 that Thyrza may accompany her to London, 
 where she is to spend a night, starting for Scot- 
 land from King's Cross by the 10 a.m. train the
 
 62 BROWN AS A BEERY. 
 
 following morning. As yet Thyrza has not 
 been introduced to Madame Dawson; but the 
 pleasure is not to be much longer postponed^ for 
 she sees the green folds of a satin dress^, rustling 
 down the passage where yesterday she followed 
 Mr. Ferrier into the billiard-room. 
 
 " Oh, you will soon get another pupil/^ says 
 Thyrza. 
 
 " Not one like you ; so good_, so attentive/^ 
 he sighed. 
 
 '^^And who is so fond of her darling old 
 master/^ smiles Thyrza. " I am so sorry to 
 leave you, Mr. Spindler. You have always been 
 very kind to me.^' 
 
 ^^Thou wilt write, Thyrza, and tell me how 
 thou gettest on when far away from Villios? 
 Once I go to Edinburgh to see a friend whom 
 I first knew in Stuttgardt. We studied together 
 at the Conservatorium, and he was Kapel-Meister 
 for two years to the king. But jealousy came, 
 and his enemies made poor Louis leave Stuttgardt 
 and go to Scotland. On week days it was all 
 very well in Edinburgh, but on the Sundays 
 it was too awful ! After I had been to my 
 chapel, I had nothing to do. If you play 
 the piano on the Sunday you will have a whole 
 crowd round the house. Ach ! I live de oder 
 days, but on the Sundays I only wegetate P^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 63 
 
 " We may as -well say good-bye now/^ says 
 Miss Holt j " it will soon be time for you to 
 give Mademoiselle Tbibault her lesson/^ 
 
 " Lebewohl^ Tbyrza/^ says Mr. Spindler, 
 lapsing, according to Ms wont wben carried away 
 by bis feelings, into bis beloved harmonious 
 German, " take care of thyself and forget not 
 the old man^^ (shaking hands heartily). "When 
 I publish my etude on Scotch airs, it shall be 
 dedicated to thee, Rosleinroth.''' 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Spindler. I will practise 
 the sonatas regularly, and will only get some of 
 Ascher^s music as a treat to refresh me," answers 
 Thyrza, warmly. Mr. Spindler does not much 
 approve of Ascher ; brilliant and dashing without 
 solidity or thoroughness, is his opinion of that 
 composer's writings. 
 
 He moves a step forward and shakes his head 
 in deprecation of Thyrza's pretended preference 
 (she has only said so to teaze him) of Ascher's 
 music over the sublime works of Mozart, Haydn, 
 Beethoven, and Handel. 
 
 " Lebewohl, Thyrza V' he repeats, tenderly and 
 reluctantly. Dear old Mr. Spindler, who has 
 initiated Thyrza into the mysteries and art of 
 music, from reading her notes and the five-finger 
 exercise to the " Moonlight Sonata" and Sachs's 
 Passion music, she would give him a kiss were
 
 64 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 not Miss Holt and Mr. Ferrier standing on the 
 doorsteps looking at her. She does not mind 
 Miss Holt in the least ; to her she has shaken 
 off all allegiance and obedience^ and is free as 
 air or the wave on the sea, and can no longer be 
 called to account for bad behaviour. But when 
 she reaches down to where short, fat Mr. 
 Spindler stands, sadness depicted on his face, 
 a large snuff-box in his hand, a ray of sunshine 
 sloping through the tiny slit of blue heaven 
 visible between the red roofs of the high storied 
 houses touching his venerable head with silver, 
 she catches a look of extreme amusement in 
 Mr. Ferrier^s grey eyes. She draws hastily 
 back into the diligence ; Mr. Ferrier is smoking 
 a cigar, a cloud of smoke goes curling up into 
 the air by the vermilion and gold sign of the 
 Flying Dragon. At his side is the little 
 Italian, his head bound up across his brow, 
 but otherwise looking the picture of mirth 
 and health. The guinea-pig is adorned with 
 a collar and small chain now ; a safer arrange- 
 ment than that of allowing it to be at liberty. 
 
 Mr. Spindler would fain say more, but as he 
 begins to speak, Madame Dawson, closely veiled, 
 sails out under the porch, and Miss Holt 
 approaching to effect the introduction, he is 
 almost demolished and swept away by the tide
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 65 
 
 of wide^ flowing petticoats and insubordinate 
 crinolines. 
 
 Miss Holt kisses Thyrza for the first and the 
 last time since she has dwelt within the walls of 
 S. Sebastian the Martyr. After all, she will 
 miss the girl with her picturesque face, her 
 gentle manners, and untidy ways; the pension 
 will not seem itself for a few days without 
 Thyrza, who has been so long a tenant of its 
 dark, sombre rooms. Perhaps, too, the recol- 
 lection of sundry meannesses practised on the 
 unsuspecting child occurs to her mind reproach- 
 fully. It is very inconvenient too for the junior 
 English teacher to take her departure so much 
 before the holidays begin. However, one cannot 
 always regulate these little contretemps to one^s 
 liking, and, on the whole, Miss Holt has made 
 an extremely good thing out of Thyrza. 
 
 Madame Dawson is successfully launched into 
 the diligence, and expresses her happiness at 
 making Thyrza^s acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Spindler once more attempts to speak, 
 but Miss Holt promptly interferes, and he re- 
 tires, muttering to himself in German under his 
 breath. The door is closed now and the rickety 
 vehicle is about to start, when Mr. Terrier flings 
 away the remains of his cigar, and running up to 
 the diligence, places one foot on the step that 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 assists you to climb up, and gives Thyrza a 
 beautiful Gloire de Dijon rose. It is only the 
 middle of May, so it must have been forced in a 
 hothouse. Madame Dawson clearly thinks it is 
 intended for her, and wishes to take it from 
 Thyrza, but Mr. Ferrier says distinctly, " C^est 
 pour Mademoiselle Thyrza,^^ continuing more 
 fluently in English, " I regret it is such a 
 poor flower. Keep it in remembrance — shall 
 I say of a disagreeable man?'' 
 
 " Thanks, Monsieur,^'' returns Thyrza, lighting 
 up with a smile that displays two rows of pearly 
 white teeth. 
 
 The driver cracks his whip, the wretched 
 horses move, and in another moment Thyrza is 
 driving at a jog-trot through Villios. A few 
 minutes more and she will leave the old- 
 fashioned town and ail its historic associations 
 behind. It is an ancient town, which carries one 
 back to the splendour and chivalry of a past 
 century, when brilliant cavalcades rode through 
 the narrow streets ; when courtiers placed all 
 their fortunes in ropes of pearls and jewels on 
 their clothes ; when the king was secure on his 
 throne, feasting in mar])le palaces, and the pea- 
 sants died by scores in misery, after lives of 
 abject toil and poverty. A town with a thousand 
 memories, and a great solemn cathedral still
 
 BROWN AS A BEREY. 67 
 
 consecrated by the fervent prayers breathed out 
 on its chequered stone pavements by pious souls 
 in times gone past ; a grey town, with dried up 
 moats round its massive ramparts filled with 
 cherry trees — at present one cloud of scented 
 snow; a peaceful town, with a broad, sleepy, 
 apple-orchard bordered river, beyond which comes 
 a rich, fertile, corn-growing country ; a land 
 indeed flowing with milk and honey, and girt 
 in and bounded by a low range of vineyard- 
 clothed hills. 
 
 Mr. Ferrier has gone into the billiard-room in 
 the hotel; but Mr. Spindler and M. Paul, the 
 Villios barber and coiffeur par excellence, watch 
 the diligence until a turn of the street hides 
 both them and the Flying Dragon, from sight. 
 As the diligence whisks round the sharp corner, 
 Thyrza waves her handkerchief; whether Mr. 
 Spindler sees it or not she cannot tell. 
 
 It is market day. The travellers pass many 
 carts containing butter, and cheese, and milk, 
 and spring vegetables of various kinds. Jogging 
 along the dusty roads with their patient beasts of 
 burden, are sev^eral peasants who sometimes stop 
 at a rain-begrimed weather-beaten stone fountain, 
 surmounted by a figure of the Madonna and Child, 
 to refresh their thirsty animals. Villios and its pink 
 and white apple orchards, its large river, good Mr. 
 
 5—2
 
 68 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Spindler and the pension where Thyrza has 
 passed twelve years of her existence, dwindle and 
 lessen in the distance. 
 
 Madame Dawson complains of a migraine, 
 declares the odour of a huge bouquet of flowers, 
 a gift to Thyrza from some of her school friends, 
 is etouffante. She has the windows first opened 
 and then shut ; she deluges herself with eau-de- 
 Cologne and Jockey Club, and is altogether rest- 
 less and uncomfortable. At Trois d'Or several 
 passengers alight, leaving only a commis-voyageur 
 and two soldiers in the conveyance with Madame 
 and Thyrza. The soldiers discuss the late war 
 and abuse ces cochons des Prussiejis. The 
 commis-voyageur explains his belief that if he 
 had been at the head of afi'airs things would 
 have been very difi'erent. Why did not Bazaine 
 make a sortie from Metz ? But the generals 
 conspired among themselves to sell France to 
 the enemy, and they ought all to have been 
 shot for their treachery. Marshal Macmahon 
 was the only patriot among them. As for the 
 Man of Sedan, nothing could excuse his conduct 
 or exonerate him from the charge of the blackest 
 ingratitude to France, who had made his fortune 
 and raised him from obscurity. The soldiers do 
 not agree. They blame the generals also; but 
 they are unanimous in asserting, that the Emperor
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 69 
 
 was deceived by his ministers regarding the state 
 of the army. 
 
 While changing horses at Trois d'Or, they go 
 into the hotel to partake of coffee with a dash of 
 brandy in it. There is no railway either to 
 Villios or Trois d^Or, so the diligence proceeds 
 to Rouge ville, from whence there is a direct line 
 to Paris. The soldiers and commis-voyageur 
 return to resume their argument ; under cover of 
 the sound of their voices^ Madame waxes con- 
 fidential, and tells Thyrza her history. As far 
 as can be seen through the black veil, she is a 
 very handsome woman with bright yellow hair, 
 pretty nearly the colour of Thyrza^s obnoxious and 
 detested canary gown now safely stowed away at 
 the very bottom of her box. By birth she is an 
 Andalusian. Her husband was a poor English 
 artist, who had nothing but his pencil on which 
 to depend for bread and cheese. He came to a 
 small village in Andalusia on a holiday expedi- 
 tion, seeking subjects for an academy picture. 
 Madame was the belle of the village. She sat 
 to Mr. Dawson in various characters as model. 
 Mr. Dawson fell in lo'^^e. Being under the im- 
 pression she would be taken to rich England and 
 live on the fat of the land, Madame thought she 
 would try the experiment. It was preferable to 
 marrying poor Carlos, the muleteer. But what
 
 70 BROWN AS A BEREY. 
 
 eyes Carlos had ! and what a devoted heart ! 
 So Madame and Mr. Dawson went to the little 
 church of San Juan, on the hillside near the 
 village^ and were married. And Carlos became 
 a brigand, and was shot while pillaging an 
 English milord. A bad ending ! — not at all. 
 Far more poetical than if he had borne his 
 reverse with fortitude, and eventually married 
 ViolantC; the wealthy olive merchant's daughter, 
 who would have given her fingers for him. 
 However, Madame had reckoned her chickens 
 before they were hatched, and Mr. Augustus 
 Dawson and she lived in cheap lodgings in a 
 part of Paris generally known as the Qu artier 
 Latin, the favourite residence of artists, stu- 
 dents, and literary people of a Bohemian taste. 
 Madame evidently disliked that portion of her 
 life. It was not what she had expected, and 
 was slower than the Andalusian village where 
 she danced boleros with Carlos, and broke the 
 hearts of half the youog fellows in the neigh- 
 bourhood. She thought that with her personal 
 advantages she ought to have made a better 
 match than " pauvre Auguste/' who had blindly 
 adored her. 
 
 " I wanted to go to the theatre and amuse 
 myself when he was busy working — it was always 
 work, work with him — but he would never let
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 71 
 
 me" mourns Madame. During the past year 
 he overworked himself over a large picture in- 
 tended for the English Academy^ and before it 
 was hung his health gave way completely, and 
 he died. The very day of his death news came 
 from England that an old aunt_, who during her 
 lifetime had steadily refused him assistance, had 
 gone to that bourne whence no traveller — in spite 
 of what Home and the spiritualists may urge to 
 the contrary — has been known, at least in modern 
 times, to return, leaving him nearly a hundred 
 thousand pounds. The good fortune came too 
 late. A little of that wealth a few months earlier 
 might have saved him ; but the man was dying, 
 the sands of life were fast running out. He was 
 just able to scrawl a few words and sign his 
 name, willing all his property away to his " be- 
 loved Preciosa,^^ when he died. 
 
 " And he is buried in Pere la Chaise,^^ con- 
 tinues Madame, cheerfully, " in what Auguste 
 used to call a ' nice snog ' spot.''"' 
 
 " Shall you go and see his grave when we 
 pass through Paris ?^' asks Thyrza, with respect 
 for Madame^s sorrow. 
 
 " Ah ! no,^^ says Madame, fanning herself 
 languidly and glancing with complacence on the 
 superb diamond and ruby bracelets she had 
 bought with " pauvre Auguste's^'' money. " Ah !
 
 72 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 no. It makes me so triste. It can do Au^ste 
 no good. I do not like the tristesse ! It gives 
 me a migraine. And many migraines spoil the 
 complexion \" 
 
 After this Madame Dawson goes off com- 
 fortably to sleep, nodding up and down as the 
 unwieldy lumbering diligence slips from one rut 
 into another. While Thyrza, left to her own 
 reflections^ gazes dreamily at the fields of young 
 growing wheat and maize; the chapels and 
 hamlets ; the wayside crosses and images of the 
 Madonna ; here and there a small plantation of 
 trees ; the pointed extinguisher towers of a 
 nobieman^s chateau^ which seem to flit by in 
 the eight miles that divide Trois d^Or from 
 Rougeville. The presence of a large and flou- 
 rishing manufacturing town is denoted by the 
 increasing number of houses of importance, and 
 by the dense smoke rising high above the tall 
 brick chimneys,, and resting like a pillar of cloud 
 over the city. 
 
 At the station Madame is awakened from 
 her slumbers by the halting of the diligence. 
 Thyrza and she gather together her numerous 
 maps and divers reticules, scent-bottles, novels, 
 &c., for beguiling the tedium of the journey, and 
 almost immediately afterwards they are added to 
 the number of caged individuals in the waiting-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 73 
 
 room, where several distracted and irritated 
 Britons, withheld from the privilege of parading 
 up and down the platform, are becoming furious, 
 threatening complaints to the heads of the police 
 and the managers of the railway company. 
 
 Madame^s appearance creates quite a sensation, 
 which apparently is rather gratifying to her 
 than otherwise. For she takes it all very quietly, 
 settles herself at once into a more becoming 
 attitude than she troubled herself to assume 
 when left in the diligence with only Thyrza and 
 the soldiers as spectators ; arranges the strings 
 of the minute velvet gipsy bonnet under her soft 
 white chin ; runs her fingers, covered with 
 jewels, through the meshes of her exceedingly 
 golden locks ; shakes the folds of her dress so as 
 to display the point of a bronze kid boot, and 
 swings slowly backwards and forwards a large 
 black Spanish fan. 
 
 The men put up their eyeglasses and stare : 
 the women stare too, study the cut of Madame^s 
 apparel, which is certainly perfection : the dress 
 which shows through a transparent Chant illy 
 lace shawl, thrown carelessly back, fitting 
 like a second skin to the magnificently deve- 
 loped bust and grandly proportioned neck and 
 shoulders ; and then they draw away their petti- 
 coats from contact with Madame^s skirt.
 
 74 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Madame sees it well enough. She endeavours 
 to remove the thick black Shetland veil she has 
 hitherto worn, which has concealed her features 
 completely, making it an impossibility to know 
 whether the mask hides a face hideous as the 
 veiled prophet^s, or one rivalling the Venus de^ 
 Medici in beauty. 
 
 " Will Mademoiselle Thyrza help me to un- 
 fasten this V she asks, after attempting in vain 
 to untie the knot with her left hand, on the 
 wedding finger of which she wears the correct 
 plain gold ring, and above, a keeper of dia- 
 monds. 
 
 One of the waiting-room windows looks out 
 upon a sort of country, and at the back of the 
 station. In this, six workmen are having their 
 dinner, on a rude table, constructed out of a plank 
 of wood resting on two unequal sticks, not very 
 securely fixed in the ground. Their meal con- 
 sists of huge chunks of brown, nearly black 
 bread ; raw turnips, carrots, and cheese, washed 
 down by draughts of weak cold tea. They are 
 all of them fine, well grown specimens of men ; 
 tall, broad shouldered, lengthy of limb, brawny 
 of muscle ; their arms, bared above the elbow, 
 are white as a woman^s, and the blue veins 
 and muscles stand out like whipcord. They 
 have come from near the Black Forest to seek
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 75 
 
 employment, and are natives of the Harz Moun- 
 tains. Thyrza, sitting near the window, cannot 
 help observing them ; she moves out of sight ; 
 then comes back to see if they are still there ; 
 moves again ; returns ; meets their eyes ; at this 
 game of Bo-peep they laugh, and Thyrza, smil- 
 ing also, goes towards Madame Dawson. 
 
 Accordingly, after some little difficulty, she 
 unties the knot : Madame murmurs her thanks; 
 folding the veil, she places it in her reticule, 
 and turns on Thyrza the loveliest countenance 
 she ever beheld. Features cut like those of a 
 Greek statue : dazzling white skin with a soft 
 peach bloom upon it : a mouth like an Apollo^s 
 bow ; eyes of the hue of blue cornflowers or 
 sapphires, whichever simile you may prefer, and 
 yellow hair of a profusion and brightness which 
 seems as though it must certainly owe more to 
 art than nature. 
 
 The women are stagnated at Madame's assu- 
 rance, and retire as far as is possible, without 
 being markedly uncivil, but Madame does not 
 care. She has the admiration and attention of 
 every man in the room concentrated upon her, 
 and she can afibrd to despise the unfeigned 
 dislike and opprobrium of her own sex. Besides, 
 what is the admiration of a score of womeu^, 
 compared with the compliments of even one
 
 76 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 man? Thyrza envies Madame her sangfroid 
 and nonchalance. How charmingly she would 
 have played the part of heroine yesterday, in 
 which Thyrza failed so lamentably. Madame 
 would not have been gauche and stupid : she 
 would have had some jeu d'esprit with which to 
 extinguish Mr. Ferrier, when he made such rude 
 remarks. The door being thrown open, puts an 
 end to the little silent pantomime, and there 
 is an universal rush for seats. One of the 
 Englishmen who has stormed so violently con- 
 cerning his forced detention in the waiting-room, 
 a big blonde man who, like the gentleman in 
 Punch has ^' grown through his hair,^' occu- 
 pies one corner of Madame^s coupe. He has 
 a handsome, rather baby-face, with not much 
 expression in his countenance, and enters into 
 conversation with Madame, whose beauty has 
 made a deep impression upon him. He speaks 
 French as well as Madame does English ; but 
 presently Madame begins talking in the latter 
 language. No one takes the slightest notice of 
 Thyrza, of which she is not sorry; for it is a 
 sight in itself to witness Madame's gestures : her 
 exact knowledge of the way she shows to most 
 advantage ; leaning her head on one hand with 
 the black fan half closed, as a set-off to the 
 delicate contour of her regular profile and Titian-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 77 
 
 like colouring : then looking round suddenly, 
 with a smile that parts the half-pouting scarlet 
 lips just enough and no more. 
 
 What would Mr. Ferrier have thought of 
 her, reflects Thyrza. To be sure, he would 
 have admired her. To a person of his rough 
 blunt exterior, her voluptuous style would be 
 especially captivating. How odd of him to 
 have given her the rose ! He did not seem a 
 pleasant man ; yet he was very kind and gentle 
 with the small Italian, and no woman^s hands 
 could have gone to work more softly or carefully 
 than did his. 
 
 Madame chatters and laughs, eats bonbons 
 from a tiny box embroidered with gold and set 
 with turquoises. The Englishman pulls his long 
 blonde beard when invention fails him, as it does 
 every quarter of an hour. For a brilliant re- 
 mark he says, " Haw, aw ; just so,^^ and twirls 
 the ends of his moustache. 
 
 In the course of the evening they reach Paris, 
 Madame^s friend repairs to the Salle des Bagages, 
 and after a struggle with the commissionnaires, 
 secures a fiacre for her, and, radiant with suc- 
 cess, announces that her luggage, including 
 Thyrza^s one box, is safely upon it. He in- 
 quires if there is anything further he can do for 
 her, also where she is going to stay for the
 
 78 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 niglit. She gives Mm the address and laugh- 
 ingly bids him adieu. Thyrza cannot help 
 speculating upon Miss Holt's probable remarks, 
 could she behold Madame Dawson's free and 
 easy manners. 
 
 It is eight o'clock in the evening. Crowds of 
 people are sauntering in the streets and on the 
 Boulevards, enjoying the cool air after the 
 warmth and business of the day ; crowds of 
 people sit sipping coffee and smoking cigars 
 outside the cafes ; crowds of carriages, omnibuses, 
 every description of vehicle, cross and recross 
 in every direction. 
 
 Madame Dawson directs the driver of the 
 fiacre to an hotel, and after having some supper, 
 Thyrza goes to bed and is soon fast asleep, too 
 tired to dream of any of the sights she has seen 
 since the morning. 
 
 The steamer — '' warranted Al, fast sailing, 
 fitted up with every luxury and accommodation 
 for the passengers " — which in much the above 
 terms is advertised to cross the Channel from 
 Calais to Dover, is nearly ready to start from 
 the first- mentioned place. 
 
 Madame Dawson and Thyrza have trium- 
 phantly finished with the Custom House officers, 
 who have found no contraband goods in either
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 79 
 
 of their trunks^ and they have now gone on deck, 
 from whence they look on at the animated scene 
 around them. It is not a bad study for those 
 in search of character. Numbers of half-pay 
 officers, persons who^ owing to " circumstances 
 over which they have no control/^ are obliged to 
 reside abroad, seedy individuals who live by 
 their wits, flash men who make money on the 
 principle of the celebrated apophthegm, " Surely 
 those with plenty of money and no brains was 
 made for them with plenty brains and no 
 money ,^^ lounge lazily on the quay, bent on 
 nothing in particular, having merely come down 
 out of curiosity to read the morning paper or 
 watch the boat go off. Piles of luggage are 
 being hauled on board, cabs heavily laden drive 
 frantically up at the last moment, containing 
 elderly ladies with lap-dogs and bandboxes, 
 who speedily become a prey to extortionate 
 porters. Patient paterfamilias, who has been 
 taking his wife and family abroad on a small 
 trip, stands, spectacles on nose, counting over 
 dozens of packages, without which his woman- 
 kind insisted life and the table d^hote would 
 have been a howling wilderness and desert unto 
 them. A young artist, tall, pale, and dark, with 
 eyes of true southern splendour, very baggy 
 clothes and a slouch hat^ in which he looks an
 
 80 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 embryo brigand, watches a couple of frizzy- 
 haired girls, who are swearing vows of eternal 
 fidelity, to be broken within a month. A Bel- 
 gian family — four brothers, all short, all fat, and 
 all wearing long chevelure and spectacles, ac- 
 companied by their two sisters — take possession 
 of a seat near Madame and Thyrza. They are 
 going to ''do^^ Scotland; are got up in flaring 
 tartan, have a notion that nothing is drunk in 
 Scotland but whisky, nothing eaten but oatcakes 
 and sheepshead, and haggis. They speak Eng- 
 lish imperfectly, and their invariable remark 
 upon the surrounding scenery, pronounced slowly 
 and with a slight lisp, is, " Very beautiful/' An 
 elderly lady, with a troop of small children like 
 so many steps, comes up the companion-ladder 
 on to the deck, in the. most remote nook of 
 which two lovers are evidently saying what is to 
 be a long farewell. They are far too much 
 occupied with each other to care what people 
 are thinking about them. A gentleman, in a 
 light grey overcoat and grey wide-awake hat, 
 after lingering on the quay to hear the result 
 of the races, saunters leisurely past Thyrza. 
 Madame Dawson has hurriedly resumed her veil 
 and gone down abruptly to the ladies' cabin, 
 leaving Thyrza alone. Very solitary she looks, 
 sitting by herself, her long dark hair hanging in
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 81 
 
 thick tresses below her waist, a sort of dreamy 
 hunted expression in the soft hazel eyes. She 
 has on an old plaid cloak that has done duty as 
 a wrap for Miss Holt during wet weather for 
 the last dozen years ; originally it was a "Royal 
 Stuart tartan, but the tints are faded and re- 
 duced to a wholly indescribable neutral hue, and 
 the texture is worn and threadbare. Thyrza is 
 aware of something queer about the brown straw 
 hat, of a shape quite out of fashion, and a difife- 
 rence in the make and tout ensemble of her ap- 
 parel, from that of the be- flounced, be- trimmed, 
 be-frilled young girls on board. The cotton 
 gloves that she only wears on Sundays when 
 going to church at Villios, have been darned 
 several times at the tips ; and the strong, thick 
 boots, made by a shoemaker accustomed to the 
 construction of sabots for the peasantry in Vil- 
 lios, are admirably adapted for the stiff clay 
 roads in that neighbournood, which after a 
 shower of rain are transmogrified into mud, 
 ankle deep, but not very well fitted for the 
 respectable, civilized society in which she now 
 finds herself. 
 
 Mr. Terrier contemplates Thyrza's little lonely 
 figure ; there appears no one to speak to, or take 
 any interest in her; and, finally, he advances 
 towards her. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 BROWN AS A BERRX". 
 
 " Same old story everywhere, Mademoiselle 
 Thyrza V^ he says, after he has related his ex- 
 perience of Yillios. 
 
 ^' How, Monsieur ?' ' 
 
 " The old, old story, as sentimental people 
 call it, of spoonifying and humbugging and making 
 love. Look at that interesting pair who have 
 just come on board ; they are returning after 
 the treacle moon. The man looks as if he has 
 had enough of it. I know I should too with 
 her. I should not think that beyond dress and 
 millinery she had two ideas in her head.'^ 
 
 ^' Oh, I thought she was so pretty ! and her 
 dress is such a charming shade of blue,^'' looking 
 at her own dingy grey linen. 
 
 " Pretty doll, I grant joxx" continues Mr. 
 Terrier, glancing Thyrza slowly over from the 
 crown of her brown straw hat until his eyes fix 
 themselves on a patch that the local shoemaker 
 has placed conspicuously on the very front of 
 her boot. She tucks it out of sight as well as 
 she can under her short dress, which she begins 
 to think, though convenient for the purpose of 
 climbing the apple-tree at the pension, or 
 scrambling up the broken-down wall between 
 Miss Holt's garden and her friend^ M. Joachim, 
 the wine merchant next door, might advan- 
 tageously be a little longer.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 83 
 
 " She is pretty now, with the deviFs own 
 beauty — youth. But by the time she is forty, 
 what an inane fool she will be ! Poor fellow ! 
 Her husband will have a hard time of it. If he 
 omits saying something sweet, she will be in a bad 
 temper — pouting and weeping. I hate a crying 
 woman. But after one has got to ^ darling ' and 
 ' angel,' what can a fellow say ? The height of 
 adoration can go no further. There should be a 
 new dictionary of fresh terms invented for the 
 benefit of unfortunates undergoing the honey- 
 moon, for it comes uncommon hard lines on a 
 fellow to be in a continual state of invention. 
 It would wear me out.^^ 
 
 " The object of your pity looks as if he would 
 manage to survive very well. I should not 
 think he is much troubled with brains or imagi- 
 nation. We travelled with him yesterday from 
 Rougeville to Paris/^ replies Thyrza, laughing at 
 the recollection of the broad and open com- 
 pliments Mr. Harris paid Madame Dawson. 
 Young Mrs. Harris, if she knew it, would pro- 
 bably hardly smile so sweetly on her handsome, 
 prosperous husband. " But where can Madame 
 have gone?^^ 
 
 '' The tall stout person in the green gown 1'* 
 
 '* Yes. I am going with her to London. 8 he 
 is called Madame Dawson.^^ 
 
 6—2
 
 84 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 "Thanks for the information. I fancy she 
 has gone down into the saloon. What makes 
 her always wear a thick black veil V^ 
 
 " She did not have it on when we came on 
 board/^ 
 
 " Did she not ? Oh, she was putting it on in 
 no end of a hurry when I walked on deck, and 
 made off down the companion ladder at such a 
 rate that I thought she must certainly come a 
 cropper with those fine high-heeled boots of hers/^ 
 
 " I wish you could have seen her without the 
 veil ! She is lovely — intensely beautiful." 
 
 " What strong adjectives you use — I suppose 
 schoolgirls always do — ' lovely/ ' charming 
 et cetera !' Where are you going to ?" 
 
 " I want to see why Madame has gone away. 
 She will perhaps think it rude of me to stay here 
 and leave her by herself. ^^ 
 
 ^' Never mind what she thinks — what does it 
 matter ? She is probably sea-sick. Although I 
 should scarcely think she has had time to feel ill. 
 Are you a good sailor ?" 
 
 " I don^t know. It is twelve years since I 
 was in a steamer.^^ 
 
 " You don^t mean to say you remember twelve 
 years ago \" 
 
 '' Weil, not very clearly. But I do in a sort 
 of way.^^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 85 
 
 "Not very distinctly^ I should think. Now 
 for an affecting farewell. Timers up.^' 
 
 Paterfamilias assures his anxious better half 
 that the thirty odd boxes are safe ; the lovers, 
 with a tremendous effort, say good-bye. 
 
 " Don^t watch the vessel out of sight, or we 
 shall never meet again,^' she sobs. 
 
 '' My own. Good-bye !" 
 
 "And youll send me a telegram and write 
 directly and tell me everything,^^ she says for the 
 hundredth time. 
 
 " Now, sir V the Captain interferes. 
 
 "Good-bye, darling; remember 9 a.m. I must 
 go. Good-bye \" 
 
 He moves away. She sinks down on the seat, 
 covers her head in her shawl, and cries like any 
 child. 
 
 " I wonder how many deluded beings have 
 said the same words, and travelled over the same 
 well-worn track," remarks Mr. Ferrier. 
 
 " But it is all fresh and new to them, poor 
 things ! I do hope they will meet again," says 
 Thyrza, with genuine interest. 
 
 " I trust you are not going to join your tears 
 to hers, just out of pure sympathy. Why, you 
 don't imagine they will be faithful ? The hotter 
 their supposed affection is, the sooner it will 
 burn itself out."
 
 86 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Of course they will/^ 
 
 " Now, 1^11 tell you exactly what he will do. 
 He will look at the boat going out of harbour 
 and feel a little sentimental. Then he will take 
 out his watch to see how long it will be before 
 dinner, smoke a pipe^ and think a B.-and-S. not 
 a bad idea.^' 
 
 " What is a B.-and-S. ?' 
 
 " A B.-and-S. is a bottle of soda water with 
 some brandy added to flavour it, and to take off 
 "the chill. It is convenient to call it B.-and-S. 
 Brevity is the soul of wit. Now to finish the 
 proceedings of him. After the B.-and-S., he 
 will moon about, and, feeling dull in the evening, 
 will pay a visit to a friend who has some lively 
 daughters warmly attached to her, with whom 
 he will amuse himself, merely to keep up his 
 spirits, with a little flirtation. On the evening 
 that he does not drop in at his friend^s, he may 
 patronize the billiard table. On the whole, he 
 contrives to rub along pretty well. Man is a 
 sociable animal, and was never meant to dwell in 
 solitude by himself within four walls.''^ 
 
 '^ And how about her ?'* 
 
 '' She will look disconsolate, as you see her 
 now, for a few hours ; but a glance at the mirror 
 will convince her that crying is a bad specula- 
 tion and will damage her chances. So she
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 87 
 
 cheers up, sighs occasionally^ talks volumes of 
 rubbish to her confidante about ' darling ' Blank 
 for a few days ; is introduced to an eligible ; 
 makes herself agreeable to him/' 
 
 '' I don't believe it." 
 
 " After a time he, on the other side of the 
 Chaonel, receives a short letter, which he stuffs 
 into the hottest part of the fire. She has deter- 
 mined to wait no longer, and to go through life 
 with the eligible.'' 
 
 " What a shame !" 
 
 " Not at all. There are as good fish in the 
 sea as ever came out of it. She is a sensible 
 young person not to wait for the chance of — 
 as he phrases it — something turning up." 
 
 " What will become of him .?" 
 
 " He laments to his friends how badly he 
 has been treated ; thinks seriously of the next 
 world for a short period, and the tailor's account 
 he ought to square ; discovers his mental misery 
 does not afflict his appetite nor his digestive 
 organs ; reflects that his unhappiness will be 
 lightened if shared ; proposes eventually to some 
 one who has only just appeared on the scene of 
 action ; marries her ; meets the first she with 
 calmness." 
 
 " He ought not to get over it so soon." 
 
 '^ Men die of many diseases, but I never knew
 
 88 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 of any one who died of love or from a broken 
 heart. You may depend people are tougher 
 than that. Time blunts the feelings and recon- 
 ciles one to everything. Why^ it is beginning to 
 rain !" 
 
 " Do you think we shall have a bad passage V 
 
 " It looks queer and uncertain. In squally 
 weather the boat is sometimes many hours in 
 crossing. If you will allow me to arrange my 
 rug for you, I think I can make you as comfort- 
 able as you would be below.^^ 
 
 ^' I have nothing on that the rain can hurt/^ 
 replies Thyrza, hesitating to open the rusty 
 cotton Mrs. Gamp umbrella, filled with holes — 
 a present from Miss Holt in a fit of extraordinary 
 generosity at the last moment. Thyrza would 
 rather be drenched through and through than be 
 forced to let Mr. Ferrier see these disreputable 
 holes and rags. She is not ashamed of the 
 poverty and plainness of her dress, but she is 
 ashamed of the tattered umbrella. 
 
 " True/^ says Mr. Ferrier ; " and you have no 
 complexion to wash off. But you may catch 
 cold." 
 
 " I never catch cold.''-' 
 
 " So much the better then/'' unfolding a tiger- 
 skin rug^ lined with scarlet, w^hich he wraps 
 round Thyrza, and opening a large white um-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 89 
 
 brella lie sits down beside her. There is a stiff 
 breeze blowing and a heavy swell on the waters; 
 the boat ploughs her way with difficulty through 
 the waves ; the spray flies high, washing right 
 on to the deck ; the wet wind dashes salt racy 
 tears in Thyrza^s face, rendering her cheeks 
 rosy like a crimson clove carnation ; her hair 
 glistens with raindrops, her eyes sparkle with 
 animation ; she can feel the engines leap be- 
 neath her as they struggle against a strong sou'- 
 wester and the wild surf, and she exclaims — 
 
 ^^ Oh, this is delicious V 
 
 " You are not frightened then T* 
 
 '' Not a bit. And what splendid waves ! 
 There is a great black-green monster V' as the 
 steamer sinks in the trough of one billow, then 
 rises like a bird on the top of the next. 
 
 " Thought you would get on to ^ splendid,^ 
 and so forth, sooner or later.''^ 
 
 " You laugh at me.'' 
 
 " No ; I was thinking you were a study. 
 You know I am a disagreeable man. You 
 thought so ; come, do not deny it. I saw it 
 plainly written on your countenance in the 
 billiard-room. I suppose you threw away the 
 rose out of the diligence window long before 
 you got to Trois d'Or. Have you any objection 
 to a cigar ?''
 
 90 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " No ; I think it must be nice to smoke. I 
 once took a whiff from old Mr. Spindler^s pipe ; 
 but I thought I should have died^ I was so ill 
 afterwards.'''' 
 
 '^ Ah ! only want the opportunity, not the 
 will, to be fast. Opportunity is everything. 
 How neatly you have got out of it about the 
 rose V 
 
 Thyrza produces the rose from an envelope in 
 her pocket. 
 
 " I apologize/'' says Mr. Terrier ; ^' I always 
 make a point of doing so when I am in the 
 wrong. Now, Mademoiselle, do you think you 
 can hold the umbrella with both hands for a 
 minute while I strike a light ? Don't let it blow 
 overboard ; I have a sincere attachment to this 
 umbrella, and also to my old wideawake hat. 
 They have both been with me half over the 
 world.^' 
 
 Only a few passengers remain on deck, most 
 of them having gone below ; for the rain is 
 pouring as though it had never rained since the 
 Deluge. The wind increases in strength, and 
 they make but little progress against the com- 
 bined elements. Owing to these circumstances, 
 a nervous lady is certain they are all going to 
 the bottom forthwith, and she is very indignant 
 with her husband for refusing to remonstrate
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 91 
 
 witli tlie Captain. Nothiug will induce her to 
 quit her husband^s arm, or to believe his assu- 
 rance there is no danger. The artist stretches 
 himself at full length on a rug. Wrapped up in a 
 waterproof mackintosh and hat, he is independent 
 of the weather, and fraternizes with a burly, 
 close-shaven priest. A lanky American, fresh 
 from the prairies of the far West, who has come 
 to have a look at the little island of Britain, 
 strides across to Ferrier^s corner and settles 
 himself near Thyrza. 
 
 " Guess it^s going to be a dirty day,^^ he 
 observes. 
 
 " I daresay you are right,^^ returns Terrier. 
 
 " Been to Paris ? So have L Been taking 
 out a patent for a new machine, which at the 
 same time will cut, rake, bind in sheaves, and 
 thresh. Ah V slapping his knee emphatically, 
 ^' with all your old family and blue blood in 
 Britain, you can^t buy brains.'''' 
 
 " No, not in that way. But you can purchase 
 their service. There is not much you cannot 
 buy for money, and few circumstances that can- 
 not, at least, be ameliorated by money. Every- 
 thing has its price.^^ 
 
 " Glad to hear you agree with me. Knew 
 you were a man of sense. Been out of Britain 
 before r
 
 92 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Yes/' 
 
 ^^ Bet any odds you like that you are a 
 Scotcliman. They are as long-headed and 
 nearly as 'cute as we are. Yes. I told you so. 
 Would have laid any stakes on it.'' 
 
 '^ How did you know ?" 
 
 " You are so deuced slow and calculating in 
 your answers. An Englishman always says 
 plump out yes or no^ without hesitation. A 
 Scotchman always stops a bit before he speaks 
 for fear of committing himself; and is so 
 cautious, you can only screw the whole truth 
 out of him by a roundabout way. That is the 
 reason the Scotch never say Amen at the end of 
 their prayers. They are afraid of committing 
 themselves to the minister's words." 
 
 Mr. Terrier laughs. 
 
 " I suppose I may call myself a Scotchman. 
 My father was a Scotchman, but my mother is 
 English. When I was at home we lived in 
 England. And before going to Scotland I shall 
 run down to the old place for a few days to look 
 up the old neighbourhood." 
 
 " Not resided in Scotland at all ?" asked the 
 Yankee. 
 
 ^^ Not yet ; however, I hope soon to see the 
 land of my ancestors. I feel quite a stranger in
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 93 
 
 Europe^ as for the last eleven years I have been 
 in China." 
 
 " Been in business V 
 
 Ferrier nods his head in affirmation. 
 
 ^'Tidy sort of business to be done there, I 
 hear. Opium ?" 
 
 "There is no opium trade excepting what is 
 done by smugglers.''^ 
 
 " Going back V 
 
 " Yes ; in the course of a year. I shall re- 
 turn by the Pacific Railway and San Francisco. 
 I should have been in England long ago if the 
 steamer in which I sailed from Shanghai had not 
 been obliged to put into Bombay for six weeks 
 while repairs were being made to her engines.''^ 
 
 " Splendid trip that from New York ! Well/' 
 his glance falling on Thyrza, " taking your 
 darter home from school in Paris, I guess.'' 
 
 Mr. Ferrier and she look at each other, and 
 burst out laughing simultaneously. 
 
 " I must confess. Mademoiselle Thyrza," says 
 he. 
 
 " Rutherfurd/' she suggests. 
 
 " Miss Rutherfurd, then. My name is Jack 
 Ferrier. Well, I must confess I do not see 
 much resemblance between my handsome visage 
 and Mademoiselle's. She must be extremely
 
 94 BEOWN AS A BEKEY. 
 
 flattered. I daresay I donH look over and 
 above juvenile/^ taking off his hat and exhibiting 
 to view a crop of thick black hair, considerably 
 streaked with grey, " and old enough to be your 
 father. Only it is rather a joke to be taken for 
 the head of a family before one has hanged one- 
 self in the fatal matrimonial noose. How old 
 are you, Mademoiselle ? Fourteen or fifteen, at 
 the outside ? You need not be ashamed yet of 
 telling your age.''^ 
 
 " I am seventeen past, Monsieur.-''' 
 
 " Should not have thought it. You are small 
 for your time of life ; but probably you will 
 grow.^^ 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir/^ says the Yankee. " Had 
 no idea but that you were the young lady^s 
 father. Made sure you were taking her from 
 school. Meant no offence." 
 
 Ferrier intimates he understands nothing of 
 the kind was intended. 
 
 " Going down to the cabin V continues the 
 Yankee ; " can recommend the provisions as par- 
 ticularly good.-" 
 
 Cousin Jonathan departs to obtain somewhat 
 wherewith to refresh his inner man, saying some- 
 thing to himself to the effect that there is '^ a 
 considerable deal of human natur in a man when 
 he sees a likely girl like that, and he reckons he
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 95 
 
 has put his foot into it pretty well with that 
 party /^ Terrier and Thyrza are silent for some 
 minutes. Then he speaks. 
 
 '^ A penny for your thoughts,, Mademoiselle V^ 
 
 " Will you pay the penny if I tell you V' 
 
 " How mercenary you are ! Do not you give 
 anything for nothing ? Are you mentally com- 
 paring our supposed resemblance ? You pass 
 your hand over your chin as though you already 
 felt the stubble of a beard growing.^" 
 
 '^ No, Monsieur. I was not thinking of you 
 at all.^^ 
 
 " Of whom, or of what, then V 
 
 " I was wondering what Mr. Spindler would 
 be doing at this time in the pension, and how the 
 Italian is getting on.^^ 
 
 *^ I don^t know about Mr. Spindler, but I can 
 tell you of the lad. Mr. Spindler called upon 
 me after you had driven off with Madame Dawson 
 in the diligence. We talked over matters. I 
 found him a much more rational being than I 
 had anticipated.^^ 
 
 '' Poor Mr. Spindler V says Thyrza. '' Cannot 
 any one be considered to have common sense 
 unless he has been in business P^-* 
 
 "Business is by no means to be despised; 
 especially if it pays. I don''t say there are not 
 higher things in the world. That is not the
 
 96 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 question/^ returned Terrier. " Well; after a 
 long consultation, Mr. Spindler and myself got 
 the boy apprenticed to a tailor in Villios." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur ; how droll ! A tailor of all 
 people in the world.^' 
 
 ^' The first thing we did was to have his hair 
 cut, and a new suit of clothes provided for him. 
 He was not such a suitable object for a picture 
 as when he presented himself before the window 
 of your pension, but he has a chance of being 
 immeasurably better than artistic — a well-behaved 
 member of society. On the whole it was a good 
 thing he happened to fall and cut his head. 
 Are you hungry ?' 
 
 " Desperately/' says Thyrza, concisely. 
 
 "So am I. Shall we follow our Brother 
 Jonathan's example, and discover what sort of 
 sustenance is provided for the wayfarer V 
 
 " I daresay Madame Dawson will be glad to 
 see me.'' 
 
 • " Madame Dawson ? I think somehow I've 
 seen that woman before. Are you going to live 
 with her in London ?" 
 
 " No. I am only travelling with her. I go 
 on to-morrow morning to a place called Lillies- 
 hiU, in Kilniddry shire, in Scotland." 
 
 " Lillieshill ! Why, who the deuce do you 
 know there ?"
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 97 
 
 " I don^t know any one — I wisli I did. At 
 leasts I have seen Mr. Mark. But one does not 
 remember mucli at the advanced age of five 
 years." 
 
 " Mark ? Why !" exclaims Ferrier^ looking 
 exceedingly perplexed. 
 
 " I am going to Lillieshill by Mr. Mark^s 
 own special invitation/'' replies Thyrza. '^ Are 
 you Mr. Mark V 
 
 " No, of course not. Did I not tell you my 
 name was Terrier ? But I see it now. You 
 are the little girl whose father and mother died 
 at Shanghai^ and whom Mark has been looking 
 after.'' 
 
 ^'^ Yes/' Thyrza answers, " you are right. 
 But how do you know Mr. Mark ?" she asks in 
 her turn. 
 
 " Mark is the greatest friend I have. We 
 were in partnership in Shanghai. He has given 
 up business now, and come home for altogether. 
 I have got a new partner, a fellow called Lennox. 
 But the idea of Mark being guardian to a girl 
 like you !" 
 
 "He is not my guardian." 
 
 " Well, well ; comes to the same thing in the 
 end. He acts the part without the name." 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Mark is a benevolent stout 
 man, rather bald^ and not tall?" 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ^^ Mark would be pleased to hear your opinion. 
 However, you will see him for yourself this time 
 to-morrow evening." 
 
 " ]\J y ideas are most probably all wrong/' says 
 Thyrza. '' Madame '' 
 
 " Oh, hang Madame V breaks in Ferrier. 
 " Excuse me, Mademoiselle ; that slipped out un- 
 awares. I have been living for the last five 
 years up the Yang-tse-Kiang, about a hundred 
 and fifty miles from Shanghai, and have scarcely 
 spoken to a woman during that time, so I am 
 afraid my manners have deserted me. Depend 
 upon it, Madame has never given you a thought. 
 She has hung up that marvellous yellow hair to 
 save it from being crushed, and is at this 
 moment l}ing flat upon her back in her berth as 
 ill as possible, and groaning in despair. Odd ! 
 I can^t get it out of my head, there is something 
 familiar about her."' 
 
 " You cannot have seen her before. She is 
 an Andalusian, and married an English artist. 
 She lived, until last year, in a flat in the Quartier 
 Latin, when her husband died just as he came 
 into an immense fortune.'^ 
 
 " Queer,'' says Mr. Terrier, doubtfully. 
 ^^ When did you first see her ?" 
 
 " We were introduced in the diligence at 
 ViUios.'^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 99 
 
 " And she told you her history at once^ with- 
 out knowing anything about you/^ 
 
 '' Yes, she did." 
 
 " Hum ! Well, there are the white cliffs of 
 Dover. We shall be in directly. What a 
 shower ! Are you very wet ? Steady, donH be 
 afraid. Let us get into the saloon." 
 
 Mr. Ferrier is greeted by the Yankee^ who 
 looks approvingly at Thyrza. She passes on to 
 the ladies' cabin, where Madame is sitting, no 
 trace of sea-sickness about her. 
 
 '^ What a sly little puss you are V says she. 
 " That is generally the case with you demure 
 demoiselles. You have been sitting on deck 
 this long while with the stiff Englishman, and 
 forgot about poor me alone here without a friend 
 to speak to." 
 
 " Oh, no, Madame ; indeed I did not." 
 
 " And what did you talk about ? Ah, you 
 never spoke of mef' 
 
 "Various subjects, and you among the rest. 
 Mr. Ferrier" — Thyrza may be mistaken, but she 
 cannot refrain from thinking Madame starts 
 slightly and that the rose in her wax-like cheek 
 fades — "Mr. Ferrier wondered why you always 
 wore a black veil." 
 
 " It would not be proper for a desolate widow 
 to travel without some sort of protection." 
 
 7—2
 
 100 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 At this juncture the steward is heard an- 
 nouncing something in a loud voice in the saloon. 
 
 " We are just in/^ says Madame. She pins 
 the black veil over her bonnet^ and with the rest 
 of the passengers hurries up on deck. The good 
 ship steams along straight as an arrow shot from 
 a tough ash bow over the swelling waves and 
 tremendous surf. The white cliffs, crowned by 
 the castle and fair green daisy-covered slopes, 
 lying against a blue sky, come nearer. The 
 rain has now ceased, and a rainbow stretches its 
 arch of three colours across the sky, and Ferrier's 
 lean bronzed face and keen eyes soften as if some 
 strong emotion passed over them. Then come 
 the crowd of cabbies and green-coated porters, 
 and the sound of the familiar English tongue, 
 and a Cockney pronouncing it is a warm day. 
 
 The Yankee consoles a doleful and sea-sick 
 fellow-traveller, whom he assists to land, with — 
 
 ^^ You should not have taken so much whisky 
 to-day ; I knew how it would be. You should 
 fight against it, and resolve not to be sick, and 
 make up your mind to keep well. It only wants 
 resolution" 
 
 An original, if not a feasible idea. If one 
 could remain in good health by merely willing 
 it, there would be no employment for doctors, 
 and, like the Wandering Jew, one might live on
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 101 
 
 for ever. It may be recommended, however, as 
 a new and cheap cure for sea- sickness which 
 deserves consideration. 
 
 " You had better telegraph to let Mark know 
 you have got all right to England/' says Ferrier, 
 when they have landed and are waiting for the 
 important arrival of the boxes from the hold. 
 " Or shall I send the telegram for you ?" 
 
 Thyrza gratefully accepts his offer. Madame 
 has put up a parasol and turned her back upon 
 Ferrier. Thyrza observes him giving sundry 
 quick looks at her^ but they must be very 
 piercing indeed if they penetrate through the 
 thickness of the shady veil and parasol. Madame 
 is tongue-tied. 
 
 ^' I am sorry I cannot travel down with you, 
 Mademoiselle/' pursues Ferrier ; " but I shall be 
 at Carmylie — that is, near Lillieshill — the end 
 of next week. Tell Mark both I and his flask 
 will put in an appearance then.''
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 N old house^ built of red sandstone^ half en- 
 shrined in ivy, with muliions and many 
 nooks and corners, and overhanging eaves, and 
 odd staircases leading nowhere in particular — a 
 quaint house, to which the fancies of several 
 generations of owners of different tastes have 
 added a wing in one part, an entrance in another, 
 blocking up doors and opening out windows in 
 all manner of strange and unexpected places — a 
 house which, in every sense of the words, shows 
 traces of being lived in and cared for. This is 
 Lillieshill. Like most old houses, it lies low, 
 and is built on a flat piece of ground entirely 
 shut in by trees. Near the house is located a 
 thriving colony of rooks that are just now 
 winging their way to their nests from a turnip- 
 field, after a friendly discussion on things in 
 general and grubs and worms in especial. 
 
 Through an opening in the trees, above a
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 103 
 
 artificial cascade falling into a pond with a 
 miniature island in the centre;, glimpses of rugged 
 purple mountain peaks are visible, dappled with 
 tender lights and shades melting into soft, 
 pearly distance ; inky, indigo masses of pine 
 forests embracing their feet ; brown peat-tinged 
 burns winding among the upland fields, winking 
 gold in the sun ; and green larches, their little 
 scarlet tassel cones beginning to turn into dun 
 colour. 
 
 Lillieshill is always pretty. In early spring, 
 when the wind stirs the budding beech leaves 
 putting their heads out of their ruddy shells ; 
 in summer, when they are interlacing their 
 polished silver arms loaded with shimmering 
 green foliage ; in autumn, when the branches are 
 decked with scarlet and yellow, turned into 
 rubies by the shifting sunlight, and the red 
 squirrels lay up stores of the russet beech mast ; 
 or in wmter, when the powdered driven snow 
 spreads its white garment on the earth — Lillieshill 
 is always fair, but perhaps never fairer than as 
 now, at the hour of sundown on an evening in May. 
 
 On the lawn, near the front door, is a group 
 of three persons — a lady and two gentlemen. 
 They are absorbed in the useful occupation of 
 killing time, and are evidently expecting some 
 one. Place aux dames.
 
 104 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Miss Lefroy is about fifty years of age^ thin, 
 wrinkled, and decidedly plain. No one in the 
 pleasant, though now remote days of her youth, 
 had ever called Miss Lefroy other than very mode- 
 rately good-looking. Matrimonially speaking, she 
 has been a failure. In other words, she is an old 
 maid. She is not ashamed of the name, and is on 
 the whole not discontented with her condition — 
 i.e., having plenty of money and little to employ 
 her time. In spite of a certain stiffness and 
 reserve in her manner, she is warmhearted and 
 charitable, as the poor round Lillieshill and in 
 the town of Queensmuir will testify. As her 
 own hopes regarding herself have not come to 
 fruition, Miss Lefroy hopes much for Mark. A 
 woman, as a rule, must hope, if not for herself, 
 for some one else. What she trusted would have 
 been her own destiny she trusts will be realized 
 in her favourite nephew, Mark. She is an 
 accomplished linguist, and an earnest reader of 
 the ^' Antiquity of Man,^^ and puzzles her brain 
 with "The Origin of Species," the cosmic 
 vapour, and other abstruse subjects ; but no one 
 meeting her in society would guess that her 
 abilities were above the ordinary run. Although 
 an old maid, she has not imbibed the Woman^s 
 Rights mania, nor has she arrived at the pitch of 
 spelling that word witli a capital letter ; neither
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 105 
 
 has she the least desire to expatiate on a platform 
 in public, under the impression she is born to set 
 the world as it ought to be, and remedy the 
 grievances of society. In Mr. Lefroy she has 
 great faith. She believes with him that he is 
 the handsomest as well as the most talented and 
 most fascinating of men, which says a good deal 
 for both brother and sister, a prophet not being 
 without honour save in his own country. 
 
 Miss Lefroy^s opinion of her brother is 
 scarcely shared by Luke Mark, a youug man of 
 two or three and thirty, lately returned from 
 China. He often finds Mr. Lefroy prosy and dull, 
 especially as he does not take the same interest 
 in prize cattle and old china and model cow- 
 houses and dairies as Mr. Lefroy does. In appear- 
 ance, Luke Mark is much what he was as a boy. 
 He has blue eyes, fair hair, and a hooked nose, 
 and he wears a blonde moustache. He is about 
 five feet eight and a half in height, and there is 
 an inexpressible air of neatness and dapperness 
 about his whole outer man. 
 
 Mr. and Miss Lefroy wish their nephew to 
 marry. They are the sole survivors of a large 
 family, and the next heir after Mark is a 
 shopkeeper in the West End of London, who, 
 being poor in his early days, had been glad to 
 put his pride in his pocket, and work as a
 
 106 BROWN AS A BERRr. 
 
 shopboy until better times came. These better 
 times, as far as money was concerned, have 
 already come round, and still more prosperous 
 ones are in store for him, if Mark remains 
 unmarried. The notion of a man who had 
 worn a white apron and stood behind a counter 
 becoming the possessor of Lillieshill, its curiosi- 
 ties, its fat lands, its superb cattle, its splendid 
 hothouses and appurtenances, is not pleasing to 
 the Lefroys. Mr. Lefroy feels that if such comes 
 to pass, he will not be able to lie peacefully in 
 his grave. Such a man could not possibly 
 appreciate the merits of old Dresden and Sevres j 
 and as for the precious cattle, the apple of his 
 eye and the joy of his soul, the only charm 
 the next heir would see in them would be their 
 capability of being converted into beef and money. 
 This is an agonizing idea to their affectionate 
 owner. 
 
 So Mr. and Miss Lefroy, with the knowledge 
 they cannot live for ever, and must, some time or 
 other, quit Lillieshill for the narrow resting- 
 place in their family burial ground at Queensmuir, 
 earnestly desire that Mark should marry. 
 
 As for Mr. Lefroy, he is a very particular 
 and fussy elderly man with the relics of former 
 good looks still remaining. He carries his pecu- 
 liarities to such an extent, that he has door-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 107 
 
 mats for ornaments in the hall, and others 
 which are intended to serve their normal purpose 
 of removing the mud from the boots or shoes 
 of visitors, and special stands for sticks ; also, 
 separate ones for umbrellas. In winter, he 
 carefully airs his hat and gloves before the stove 
 fire, to prevent all danger of catching cold. 
 Everything about Lillieshill is sure to be ^'^his 
 own idea,^' or else ^' his own invention,^^ and 
 everything belonging to him is the finest of its 
 kind. When he gets into the next world, he 
 will miss his turtle-soup and his prize cattle, 
 unless some very material change comes to his 
 feelings before then. 
 
 " By-the-bye, when do the people come to 
 dinner ?^^ asks Mark. 
 
 " Half-past seven,^^ returns Miss Lefroy. 
 
 " Any one worth speaking to T' 
 
 " Mrs. Ferrier from Carmylie, your partner^s 
 mother, and her married daughter, Mrs. Napier. 
 Husband a Captain in the Rifle Brigade in India^ 
 But you know all about them, as you have seen 
 them before.''^ 
 
 " Well.^^ 
 
 '' The MacNabs from Quentinshope/' 
 
 " Who are they ?' 
 
 " Rich retired jute merchants.^'' 
 
 " Oh V
 
 108 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " My dear fellow^ they are as rich as Croesus — 
 could eat gold if they liked/^ breaks in Mr. Lefroy. 
 
 ^' I daresay. Usual style of thing, I suppose. 
 Rose from being a shoeblack, or something of 
 the kind, with sixpence in his pocket. ''^ 
 
 " No ; MacNab was not a shoeblack,^^ re- 
 sponds Mr. Lefroy. '' His father was a weaver 
 and his mother a cook. MacNab himself began 
 life as a clerk, and fortune favoured him. He 
 has had a capital education, and is a shrewd, 
 clever man.^^ 
 
 " I don't doubt it.'' 
 
 ^' It is useless to ignore these sort of people, 
 Luke, for there the fact is. They are the great 
 power of the age. MacNab is a good sort of 
 fellow; he behaves himself; he does not talk 
 shop. If you had not been told you would 
 never have guessed his mother was a cook. 
 And a very excellent cook too," proceeds Mr. 
 Lefroy, rubbing his hands ; " I remember her 
 perfectly well at Carmylie, many years ago now, 
 when the Campbells owned the place." 
 
 " From whom the Ferriers bought it." 
 
 " Yes ; the Campbells went to smash, and 
 old Ferrier bought the place dirt cheap. Bless 
 me ! People don't ask how did you make your 
 money ? It is, how much has he got ? Or, has 
 he got any at all?"
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 109 
 
 '^ Well^ now for the elegant Frencli girl/^ 
 says Luke Mark. " (irecian bend, Roman fall, 
 and two or three pounds'* worth of hair that 
 grew on somebody else's head.'' 
 
 " I hope she does not wear nails in her 
 boots/' rejoins Mr, Lefroy, reflectively. " I should 
 not like to have the new oak in the library 
 scratched." 
 
 " She must stay at least three weeks, I 
 suppose/' sighs Miss Lefroy . '' Whatever shall 
 we do with a fashionable young lady at Lillies- 
 hill; and more especially one accustomed to live 
 in a town ? She is your visitor, Luke, not 
 mine ; so you must look after her. There are 
 the horses, at any rate; so you can ride and 
 drive with her, and we may get up a pic-nic 
 or two." 
 
 " Perhaps she takes an interest in cattle or 
 old china. If so, there will be always the 
 model cowhouse aud the old Dresden for her 
 to amuse herself with/' says Mr. Lefroy. " Oh ! 
 sweet effect there !" pointing to a gleam of sun- 
 shine stealing through the russet-hued beech 
 buds from which the green leaves are bursting, 
 and the long drooping branches that touch the 
 smooth sward. 
 
 " There she is !" cries Miss Lefroy, as a 
 carriage drives along the gravel sweep to the house.
 
 110 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 It does not enter into Thyrza^s head to wait 
 nntil she is assisted to descend. Directly the 
 carriage stops she springs out to the gravel walk, 
 to the astonishment of the stately footman, 
 who announces that Mr. and Miss Lefroy and 
 Mr. Mark are at home in a voice of displeasure 
 at her unconventional proceedings. 
 
 Mark and his uncle and aunt are so amazed 
 at the advent of the childish figure dressed in 
 such odd, clumsy clothes, that at first they think 
 there must be some mistake, and remain silent, 
 until at last Mark gives vent to a lengthy 
 " Whe-ew V 
 
 Thyrza walks forward to meet them, ignorant 
 of their feelings of astonishment. Her hat -string 
 has broken on the journey, and it has fallen off 
 in leaving the carriage. She picks it up and 
 comes along with it in her hand, through the 
 bright sunshine, her hair blowing about over her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Please, I have not come to the wrong house, 
 have I ?" she asks, terrified at no one speaking, 
 and clutching nervously to the Mrs. Gamp 
 umbrella, which has clung faithfully to her 
 during all her travels. No one ever loses an 
 old gingham. It is always a nice new dapper 
 silk one that evaporates and is never heard of 
 again. " Please, I^m Thyrza Rutherfurd.^^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. Ill 
 
 '' To be sure V exclaims Mark^ heartily. 
 " Welcorae to Lillieshill, Miss Rutherfurd. Glad 
 you have found your way safely. Troublesome 
 long journey. I hear you met my friend Ferrier ; 
 I had a note from him this morning telling me 
 about you.^^ 
 
 " You must be very tired^ dear/^ says Miss 
 Lefroy^ her mind infinitely relieved from the idea 
 of the Girl of the Period she imagined she would 
 be cooped up with for several weeks ; and her heart 
 goes out to the pale and somewhat weary face. 
 
 " A little^ thank you/^ replies Thyrza, with a 
 strong French accent. 
 
 " We expected a regular boarding-school young 
 lady/^ pursues Mark, in explanation of his hesita- 
 tion in welcoming her, which has clearly left a 
 painful impression on her mind ; " it is a long 
 time since you and I met_, so you must excuse 
 me if at first I did not quite remember your 
 features.^^ 
 
 "You are Mr. Mark ?^' she inquires. 
 
 "Yes; at least I believe so. I trust no 
 claimant will arrive to assert he is Luke Mark, 
 and that I am somebody else.^'' 
 
 " Then it is you who are my benefactor/' she 
 replies. "I give you my best thanks for all 
 your kindness to me.'' 
 
 She says it as if instructed what words to use,
 
 112 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 and her manner puts Mark on his most courteous 
 behaviour. 
 
 " I am well repaid,, Miss Rutherfurd^ by having 
 the pleasure of seeing you here to-day/^ he an- 
 swers^ politely. 
 
 " How did you manage about changing for 
 Queensmuir at Bogdrum Junction T' asks Mr. 
 Lefroy. " I hope you had no trouble about your 
 luggage ?" 
 
 '^ Is that the place where a man calls out sud- 
 denly, ' Change hee-ar for Queensmuir/ just as 
 if some one had run a pin into him T' she 
 rejoins, with a merry laugh, which does away in 
 great measure with any further formality. 
 
 " I suppose it must have been.'''' 
 
 " Well, I asked for my box there, and the 
 man with the abrupt squeaky voice said it was 
 not in the van. So I have lost it.''"' 
 
 " Lost it ? — how unfortunate ! Some people 
 are coming to dinner, too, to-night. How will 
 you manage without an evening dress V 
 
 " Oh, I had no evening dresses in it, so it does 
 not signify.^^ 
 
 " Was it directed ?' 
 
 " No, I don't think it was.'' 
 
 " Dear me, dear me ! — very provoking, to be 
 sure, for you ! Most annoying — particularly so. 
 Ought to telegraph at once to the station-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 113 
 
 master at Queensmuir. Case of gross neglect — 
 culpable neglect of duty. Shall kick up a pretty 
 row, and get some one punished/'' says Mr. 
 Lefroy, beginning to walk up and down the lawn 
 as if violently agitated. 
 
 " Was it labelled for Queensmuir ?" asks 
 Mark. 
 
 *' La— belled?^' 
 
 " Had it a pink or blue luggage-ticket put on 
 it at King^s Cross T' 
 
 " I do not know. There was such a crowd at 
 the station,, and everybody did seem in such a 
 hurry I never saw it after it was taken from the 
 cab.^^ 
 
 " The chances are you will never see it again/'' 
 returns Mark, consolingly. ^^ As to kicking up 
 a shindy with the Company, that''s no use. 
 You\e no claim against them unless it was pro- 
 perly labelled and directed." 
 
 '' Miss Rutherfurd, will you come into the 
 drawing-room^ and have a cup of tea?" says 
 Miss Lefroy, with a smile ; '^ then you can rest 
 a little before dinner.''^ 
 
 " Oh yes, I should like that, for I am so hot 
 and sticky and uncomfortable. You see I have 
 had so many misfortunes, and broken the string 
 of my hat, and lost my gloves^ besides my box/^ 
 answers Thyrza, cordially. 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Purvisj bring some tea/^ to tlie tall footman. 
 " Sit down on the sofa^ dear.^^ 
 
 Thyrza leans back luxuriously, while Miss 
 Lefroy laments the loss of the box. Such a 
 deliciously cool room it is, furnished with walnut- 
 wood and hangings of different shades of green 
 from palest sea-green to the darkest moss-tint. 
 A scent as of pot pourri, or dried violets, lingers 
 in its recesses. The walls are hung with pic- 
 tures by various choice masters both ancient and 
 modern; the corners filled with cabinets inlaid 
 with gold and porcelain of great antiquity. 
 
 A conservatory, separated from the drawing- 
 room by a glass door, discloses arcades of the 
 clinging festoons of the Virginia creeper, which 
 will shortly be out in profusion; New Zealand 
 ferns and small palm trees stand in large tubs in 
 rows up and down. 
 
 Tea appears presently on a tiny round tray. 
 Thyrza helps herself, and pours out cream from a 
 stumpy crystal jug, studded over with little knobs 
 of green and ruby. 
 
 ^' What a pretty place \" exclaims Thyrza, 
 attacking the thin slices of home-made bread 
 and butter with relish. " If only 1 had not lost 
 my box, I should be quite happy .''^ 
 
 '^ Mr. Lefroy will see about it for you to- 
 morrow. I am afraid nothing can be done
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 115 
 
 to-day. Poor child ! — I am so sorry for it/' 
 rejoins Miss Lefroy. " I know what it is to 
 arrive at a strange place without any of my 
 possessions/' 
 
 Miss Lefroy's fingers long to smooth Thyrza's 
 rough hair^ and pin her collar straight for her. 
 Thyrza^s collars had always a knack of slipping 
 towards the back of her neck, and her hats 
 a strong inclination to remain in any position 
 rather than in the proper one of straight on the 
 top of her head. If a briar, or nail, or loose 
 screw were anywhere at hand, her dress or petti- 
 coat never missed an opportunity of getting 
 entangled, usually to its great and grievous 
 detriment. Uncared for, with no one to mind 
 whether she looked well or ill at the pension^ she 
 has grown up without any of the little arts and 
 small vanities which most girls employ to embel- 
 lish their persons. Continually told she was plain 
 and ugly, she has hitherto thought it useless to 
 take pains in adorning herself. Not that she 
 has not thought about her appearance. Like 
 the majority of girls, one of the dearest desires 
 of her heart is to be pretty ; and with the con- 
 viction of her own defects, she has an ardent 
 admiration for the beautiful. 
 
 " I am afraid you must think T am a dreadfully 
 untidy girl," says Thyrza, rising, and looking at 
 
 8—2
 
 116 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 herself in one of the numerous mirrors. " "What 
 a guy I am^ and what a number of smuts have 
 settled on the end of my nose V' 
 
 '' People do look a little untidy after a long 
 journey/^ returns Miss Lefroy, evasively. 
 
 " But^ really, I am sometimes neat, though, in 
 general, I am not a very tidy person.^^ 
 
 "We must try to find some kind of a gown 
 for you, my dear,^^ pursues Miss Lefroy, taking 
 Thyrza upstairs. " Luke brought a large box 
 home from China with him, in which very likely 
 we may discover a dress that will fit you." 
 
 She produces a bunch of keys, and after a con- 
 siderable amount of fiddling and hackling at the 
 lock with every key on the bunch before finding 
 the right one, opens a big chest, on which are 
 the initials " T. K/'' in brass-headed nails. 
 
 On the top lie sundry Chinese curiosities of 
 wonderful embroidery on scarlet and black cloth, 
 a bag filled with the ordinary coin of the Celes- 
 tials, heavy and inconvenient as to size and weight ; 
 a collection of beautifully- carved ivory idols and 
 odd figures engaged in wrestling, and specimens 
 of the red, white, and yellow balls worn by the 
 different grades of Mandarins. Below are dresses 
 of a fashion long since out of date, skimpy in 
 the skirts, and peculiar about the body and 
 sleeves. There is nothing that Thyrza can wear.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 117 
 
 ^^ Oil;, who is this ?" she cries abruptly, pulling 
 out a water-colour sketch of a womaii^s head, 
 painted on a rough piece of sketching-paper. 
 
 " I have not the slightest idea/"* says Miss 
 Lefroy ; ^' I daresay Luke knows. But most pro- 
 bably it is merely a fancy head. Put it into one 
 of these drawers, and then you will find it when 
 you want it again. ^ A place for everything and 
 everything in its place' is a valuable maxim. 
 Come to my room, and we will see if any of my 
 gowns could be converted into a garment for you. 
 No, I fear not.-*^ 
 
 Rumbles of carriage-wheels are now audible 
 on the sweep, and young ladies with fans and 
 opera-cloaks begin to alight. 
 
 " What shall we do ?'^ exclaims Miss Lefroy. 
 " There is no gown that will fit you. Ah ! I 
 know.^' 
 
 She turns in the collar of Thyrza^s little grey 
 linen dress, pins broad, rich white lace round the 
 opening, fastens black velvet and a pearl brooch 
 at her throat, combs her thick hair back from her 
 forehead, tying it with red ribbons ; and taking 
 a spray of scarlet geraniums and maiden-hair fern 
 from a vase, places it on one side of her head. 
 
 ^^ What do you think of yourself now ?'' she 
 
 Oh, how nice I look ! Really just like other
 
 118 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 people. Thank you ever so much/^ throwing her 
 arms round Miss Lefroy^'s neck, not to the benefit 
 of the neat arrangement of her cap. She is not 
 accustomed to being embraced — indeed very few 
 persons would have had the hardihood even to 
 dream of embracing her — and she is, in conse- 
 quence, surprised and a little taken aback at 
 Thyrza^s open expression of pleasure. 
 
 '' I say \" exclaims a voice outside Miss Lefroy^s 
 bedroom door. 
 
 " Yes, Richard.'' 
 
 '' I say, Fan/' 
 
 ^^Yes, Richard,'' responds Miss Lefroy, going 
 to the door, and opening it. 
 
 " What ! — are not you dressed yet ? Nearly 
 everybody has come, and cook has sent word that 
 if she does not dish up at once the dinner will be 
 spoilt ; and after the trouble I have taken about 
 arranging the menu, that would be very disap- 
 pointing. It might give me a fit of indigestion, 
 and probably — most probably — would cause me a 
 sleepless night." 
 
 " I will be as quick as I can," returns Miss 
 Lefroy. " Miss Rutherfurd, would not you like 
 to go down with Mr. Lefroy?" 
 
 " Oh no, thank you," says Thyrza. " I had 
 rather wait for you." 
 
 " My maid has gone for her holiday just now,"
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 119 
 
 proceeds Miss Lefroy, putting on a violet-silk 
 gown and a cap to match, with violets and white 
 marabout feathers. " Here is my dressing-case, 
 dear. Will you choose some rings or bracelets 
 for me ? I am so pleased I have managed so 
 nicely about your frock. I know girls think so 
 much about their appearance, I used also when 
 I was your age. Let me see : you want a sash 
 yet, and a pair of lace sleeves to finish you. Did 
 not Miss Holt give you enough to eat ? You are 
 not very fat." 
 
 " Oh yes : Miss Holt was not quite so bad as 
 all that. We had always plenty of food.^"' 
 
 " I never was at school myself — horrid places, 
 I think. Invariably, some black sheep there. 
 About gloves : you ought to have a pair — these 
 are rather soiled. ''^ 
 
 " I can carry them in my hand to show I have 
 some,^' says Thyrza — a bright idea striking her. 
 She holds up for Miss Lefroy's selection a big 
 emerald, like a lump of green fire, on a band of 
 gold withoat any of the metal round the stone, 
 and a hoop of coral and brilliants. 
 
 '* Very well, dear," answers Miss Lefroy, 
 drawing on the rings, and settling her spectacles 
 on her nose. 
 
 They go down to the drawing-room, and after 
 a few remarks upon the inexhaustible and pre-
 
 120 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 vailing topic of the weather^ the guests pair off 
 into dinner, Thyrza falling to the lot of a very 
 tall young man, blessed with a prodigious opinion 
 of himself and a wide expanse of shirt-front. He 
 is the eldest hope of the MacNab family; and 
 will, on the decease of his father,, inherit an 
 immense fortune. In course of time he intends 
 marrying^ but not one of the Kilniddryshire girls. 
 They are not fine enough for him. Nothing 
 under an Earl's daughter will suit the heir of 
 Quentinshope. He lives in daily apprehension 
 of some one '' hooking him/*' and regards the 
 majority of women as so many mantraps set to 
 ensnare his valuable self. 
 
 At first he seems inclined to be friendly with 
 Thyrza, and imagining she is of French extraction 
 from her foreign accent and appearance^ he tries 
 to air his French ; but observing a twinkle of fun 
 in her eyes on his saying something about " avec 
 tres beaucoup distingue plaisir/' which answer 
 of his to a question of Thyrza's unfortunately 
 occurs at one of those dead silences which some- 
 times happen in the conversation at a party, he 
 abandons any further attempts at talking for the 
 more substantial delights of the table. 
 
 The dinner and its appointments are perfect. 
 Mr. Lefroy devotes most of his spare time to the 
 study of the science of cookery^ which he regards
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 121 
 
 as an art. '^ God sends good food^^ is a favourite 
 quotation of his, '^ but the devil makes the cooks/' 
 What he is going to have for dinner is his first 
 thought in the morning; how it will turn out 
 oppresses him towards evening, and when the 
 suspense is over, and he finds the fish boiled to 
 the requisite firmness, he subsides into a condition 
 of placid good temper. The certain way to get 
 on with Mr. Lefroy is to flatter him. Carping 
 critics of John Stuart MilFs life have declared the 
 reason he idolized his wife and entertained so 
 high an opinion of her intellect, was because she 
 knew how to flatter his weak points. One very 
 weak point of Mr. Lefroy's is his great capacity 
 for swallowing any amount of flattery, no matter 
 how gross and palpable ; and any one aware of 
 this quality might lead him very easily. 
 
 He has taken some trouble iu arranging the 
 party, which consists of himself, Miss Lefroy, 
 Thyrza, Luke Mark, Mr. and Mrs. MacNab of 
 Quentinshope, Archibald MacNab younger, and 
 his two sisters, Lola and Jane — tall, dashing 
 girls, with freckled complexions and pale hair ; 
 Mrs. Napier, known as the White Witch in her 
 husband's regiment ; Mr. Dods, the minister of 
 Carmylie fishing village ; Mr. Hislop, the bank 
 agent for the British Jute Company in Queens- 
 muir^ the neighbouring post town ; and Lord and
 
 122 BKOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Lady George Bogg, an old married couple, who, 
 during forty years of wedded life, have grown 
 singularly like each other, the only apparent 
 diflPerence being that Lord George has a beard, 
 and wears a coat and trousers, and Lady George 
 has no beard, and is dressed in ordinary woman^s 
 guise. The whole party are comfortably accom- 
 modated at one of those pleasant round tables 
 where you are not separated from your opposite 
 neighbour by a desert of tablecloth, but may 
 converse with him or her, as the case may be, 
 without requiring to raise your voice to an 
 alarming pitch. 
 
 Dinners by daylight are never so successful as 
 those by gas or candlelight. The sun is not 
 merciful to faded complexions, and exposes any 
 attempt to " make up" with unsparing severity. 
 The ladies' jewels do not sparkle properly, and 
 even Lady George^s diamond necklace, and the 
 star in the false plait over her wrinkled forehead, 
 lose half their brilliancy. Neither does the 
 silver and crystal on the table look so bright as 
 it does in the winter evenings when the shutters 
 are closed, the crimson curtains drawn across the 
 French windows, a fire burns on the old-fashioned 
 brass dogs, that have not been abolished from 
 Lillieshill, and a good lamp sheds its soft light 
 over the gilt picture-frames and the pretty gowns
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 123 
 
 of the guests. Conversation does not flow so 
 freely either. Bon mots and jeux d 'esprit sound 
 poor ; it is, in fact, like talking sentiment at 
 breakfast in the glare of broad daylight. Then 
 one feels rather guilty at devoting so much time 
 to dining when without all is so fresh and sweet, 
 and that most charming hour of the summer 
 day, the twilight, comes on. When the sun has 
 set, and there is that momentary hush and still- 
 ness in the air just before night fairly falls, and 
 a bird chirps to its mate among the ivy at 
 Lillieshill, one wishes to stroll out through the 
 rose-garden, and loiter a little in the long avenue 
 of stately lime-trees, instead of sitting down to a 
 formal dinner. 
 
 Mr. Lefroy infinitely prefers dining by candle- 
 light, but Miss Lefroy has persuaded him not to 
 exclude the day. So the sun is permitted to 
 shine its last rays through the beeches into the 
 dining-room, and although it does not set off 
 Lady George^s diamonds to their usual advan- 
 tage, it would be hard to find fault with the 
 golden beams that trickle over the tree-tops and 
 settle on Mrs. Napier's fair hair. Nor indeed 
 could much objection be found with the view of 
 mountains, woods, fields, and the mossy lawn, 
 the last mentioned one of the prides and beauties 
 of Lillieshill.
 
 124 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ^' Nothing in the papers at present^ excepting 
 the usual aniount of accidents and the wonderful 
 Tichborne trial/'' observes Luke Mark. 
 
 " There never is at this time of year ; the 
 chief j^lace is occupied with the proceedings of 
 Parliament/'' replies the elder Mr. MacNab. 
 " How are your turnips looking^ Mr. Lefroy ?" 
 
 " Oh^ pretty well. We shall want rain before 
 long. I am going to try a new kind of top- 
 dressing of my own invention^ on some fields on 
 the Home Farm.^' 
 
 " How beautifully green the fields are about 
 Lillieshill/' says Lola MacNab. 
 
 "The result of irrigation on a plan of my 
 own. If you want a thing done well, do it 
 yourself.'"' 
 
 " As Punch said when the master of the 
 house got up shivering at 4 a.m. on a cold 
 winter's morning to let in the chimney-sweep. 
 Poor John Leech ! how inimitably he drew/' 
 rejoins Mark. 
 
 " Have you been long in this part of the 
 globe ?'"' asks the minister, Thyrza's other neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 " No, I only came to Lillieshill to-day.^' 
 
 '^ She lost her luggage at Bogdrum/^ adds 
 Miss Lefroy. 
 
 " Ought to have your initials painted on your
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 125 
 
 boxes/^ breaks in Mr. Lefroy ; " I have mine — 
 idea of my own. Initial Jj, as long as tbis, 
 painted on black ground^, known all over Scot- 
 land. See it even on the darkest nigbt in that 
 condemned criminal's cell at tbe Waverley Sta- 
 tion, where you are forced to rout out your 
 luggage on the way from the South. Scandalous 
 shame, scandalous ! Capital of Scotland, too. 
 Never trust to railway guards — humbugs, delu- 
 sions. Look after it yourself. Have particular 
 covers or marks by which they can be identified, 
 and take off the old labels when you get home, 
 in case of mistake.'''' 
 
 " There are wonderfully few cases of lost 
 luggage, if you consider the enormous quantity 
 of traffic and how hard-worked the servants of 
 the Company are/' says the minister. 
 
 " Partridges are likely to be scarce and small. 
 The immense amount of rain we have had did 
 them a great deal of harm.'' 
 
 " What sort of condition are the rivers in, 
 Mr. Dods ? You are the angler par excellence 
 of this district." 
 
 " I have not been able to do much yet, the 
 waters have been so muddy and swollen with the 
 late heavy rains. But when the May fly is on 
 the Bogg I anticipate some fair sport." 
 
 " Fishing always seems to me a cowardly and
 
 126 BROWN AS A BERRY, 
 
 cruel sport/^ says Lola MacNab ; ^^ fancy a great 
 big man spending hours in enticing a poor little 
 fish out of the water. There it lies with the 
 hook in its mouth panting with pain." 
 
 " Pish were made to be eaten, Miss MacNab/"* 
 remarks Mr. Lefroy, solemnly ; " besides, they 
 are cold-blooded creatures, and do not feel 
 much.^^ 
 
 ^^ Indeed, Miss MacNab, I must own I have 
 sometimes felt rather guilty, too, when I saw the 
 trout lying on the bank looking up at me with 
 its fine black eyes almost reproachfully. But as 
 Mr. Lefroy says, they are intended to be eaten, 
 and they have always a fair chance of escape. 
 They need not bite unless they like." 
 
 This is the first dinner party at which Thyrza 
 had ever been present. As time goes on, and 
 course after course is removed, and entree after 
 entree arrives and is handed round by the foot- 
 men, seeing no dishes on the table she becomes 
 a good deal surprised. She waits patiently for 
 the beef to appear and be placed on the table, 
 but minutes elapse and still nothing comes, and 
 the flowers and fruit alone ornament Mr. Lefroy's 
 hospitable mahogany. 
 
 ^' Where is the rest of the dinner ?" she at 
 last inquires of the minister. " I don^t see it in 
 the room."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 127 
 
 '^ We-el, Miss Rutherfurd/^ he rejoins, en- 
 deavouring unsuccessfully to modulate the loud, 
 distinct tones of his voice^ grown sonorous and 
 bass from long practice in addressing sleepy con- 
 gregations in the kirk at the fishing village, 
 " we-el, it's on the side table, and this is called 
 the diner h la Russe. I am exactly of your 
 opinion in this respect, and like to see what I am 
 eating. The diner a la Russe is very well if you 
 are not hungry, for what with talking, and the 
 constant changing of the plates, one does not get 
 much to eat at a dinner party /^ 
 
 " Oh, do you think so ?" answers Archie 
 MacNab, having overheard the minister's obser- 
 vation, and speaking much in the tone in which 
 the London swell, on hearing a country cousin 
 had committed the enormity of eating mustard 
 with mutton, exclaimed, " Did the fellow die ?'^ 
 " I never like to see a lady hewing away at a 
 couple of tough chickens or a huge joint of 
 underdone beef — there is something very re- 
 volting in the idea.'' 
 
 '* Ice, Miss ?" inquires the footman of Thyrza. 
 
 Slightly confused, she inadvertently places the 
 useful cooling article intended for her champagne 
 on her plate beside a rissole, which, being hot, 
 presently melts it into a small pool of water. 
 By this time she has recovered herself, and grows
 
 128 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 uncomfortably hot on perceiving her mistake. 
 She hopes no one has observed it, but Archie 
 MacNab calls out for the ice to be brought back 
 and insists on putting it himself into her wine- 
 glass. It has the effect of rendering Thyrza 
 silent until the ladies leave the dining-room. 
 
 ^' Have you been attending the Parochial 
 Board in Queensmuir lately^ Mr. Lefroy V asks 
 the minister. 
 
 " Not for the last two months/^ rejoins Mr. 
 Lefroy. ^'^Perfect bear-garden, perfect bear-garden. 
 The last time I was there I gave those presump- 
 tuous, conceited fellows a bit of my mind, I can 
 tell you. They are none the worse for being 
 sworn at a little. In fact, without that they 
 would argue you out of your Christian name. / 
 soon said what / meant.'^ 
 
 Just as Thyrza is speculating how much longer 
 they will be at dinner — by the timepiece on the 
 mantelpiece they have already been more than 
 two hours and a half in the dining-room — Miss 
 Lefroy gives a mysterious glance to the ladies^ on 
 which they rise in a body; silks, satins, and 
 muslins rustle into the passage, leaving the lords 
 of creation to their walnuts and wine. 
 
 The farewell flounce is scarcely conveyed in 
 safety through the doorway, when Miss Lefroy 
 begins to discuss the educational statistics of
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 129 
 
 Scotland with Mrs. MacNab. Lady George is 
 too deaf to hear without her ear-trumpet, so rests 
 content in a large armchair, and allows her 
 dinner to digest. The educational statistics of 
 Scotland and the School Board have no attractions 
 for Mrs. MacNab. What she likes is to relate 
 all the peccadilloes and misdoings of her ser- 
 vants during the last ten years, and to hear what 
 wages are given by Mr. Lefroy and Lord George. 
 Any other equally interesting domestic particulars 
 are received by her with much relish. As for 
 Lola and Jane MacNab, they are compelled to 
 take refuge in looking over a number of pictures 
 of Chinese scenery, brought home from Shanghai 
 by Luke Mark. No man being in the room, 
 Mrs. Napier does not trouble herself to open her 
 pretty mouth. Napier^s White Witch, as the men 
 of the Rifle Brigade had called Charity in India, 
 well deserves the sobriquet. Charming as a girl, 
 she has developed into a still more charming 
 woman. To a complexion white and pure as the 
 snow on Monte Rosa, she adds the contrast of 
 miraculously-pencilled dark eyebrows. Yet there 
 is not a really good feature in her face. Her eyes 
 are not large nor remarkable for beauty of ex- 
 pression or colour, still she contrives to make 
 wonderful '' play^^ with them ; her mouth is some- 
 what wide, but her lips are red as roses ; and no 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 one looking at the fair, soft, babyish countenance, 
 the silky, flaxen hair cut a la Vandyke over her 
 forehead, and falling behind in a cascade of curls 
 nearly to her waist, and the slim, tall, svelte figure 
 — the admiration of every man and the envy of 
 most of her own sex — could help saying, " What 
 a sweet woman !" 
 
 She is very popular among men, and is as 
 much admired in Kilniddry shire now she is a 
 wife as she was when a girl at Blackbeck House ; 
 but she has anything but the love of women. 
 Her manners are extremely pleasant, and she 
 can talk on any subject from Colenso to bonnets, 
 having a smattering of knowledge and "small 
 talk " on the principal topics of the day. As 
 she generally suits her conversation to the style 
 of person to whom she is speaking, and has a 
 peculiarly angelic way of giving forth her opinions 
 as if asking for advice, it is not astonishing she 
 should be a general favourite with men. Beyond 
 herself, her dress, and flirtations, she is cased in 
 triple brass. " Only herself^ might be her motto. 
 For anything else she does not care so much as 
 a straw; and if the husband who is devotedly 
 attached to her died next week, her first thought 
 would be. How shall I look in crape and that 
 disfiguring widow^s cap ? Although she can 
 " gush'' with the utmost enthusiasm on paintings
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY, 131 
 
 and music, and philantliropic objects, that which 
 really interests her, and alone gives her true and 
 profound pleasure, is the study of a new shade 
 for her dress, or a new fashion for arranging her 
 hair. As she dresses to perfection, she may cer- 
 tainly be congratulated upon have attained her 
 end in fashionable life. 
 
 The space of time during which the men are 
 supposed to be talking of the legislation of the 
 nation, the foreign policy of Britain, and other 
 sensible subjects, is a very dull and slow period 
 to the ladies boxed up in the drawing-room. 
 
 It is impossible to get up much excitement 
 over photograph albums filled with cartes of 
 other people's friends whom you have never met, 
 and most probably never will meet. So conver- 
 sation is usually at a very low ebb until the 
 arrival of the men. In the meantime scandal 
 and idle gossip, with its attendant brilliant re- 
 marks, form a substitute as a sort of stop-gap. 
 This, indeed, is not always the case, especially 
 when really clever women are met together ; but, 
 as everybody knows, it is too generally the rule 
 when the majority are only able to talk of persons, 
 and not things. Liberty of speech should not be 
 allowed to degenerate into unlimited license. 
 
 Mrs. Napier lets her eyes travel slowly and 
 languidly over Thyrza's face and figure. An 
 
 9—3
 
 132 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 extremely plain girl^ and -uiifortunately awkward, 
 is her decision. No style at all about her, and 
 her complexion quite beneath criticism. 
 
 " So you travelled with Jack/-* says Mrs. 
 Napier, condescendingly. 
 
 "Only part of the way. We crossed the 
 Channel together.^^ 
 
 " Is he handsome T' 
 
 " Oh no.'' 
 
 '^ What is he like, Miss Rutherfurd V 
 
 " He has grey hair/' answers Thyrza, men- 
 tioning the points in Terrier's face which have 
 struck her most, " and blue eyes — they are grey 
 in some lights. He has a black moustache, and 
 he is very brown — browner even than I am." 
 
 " Grey hair ! But he is quite a young man — 
 scarcely thirty yet." 
 
 " He does not look old in spite of the grey hair." 
 
 '' What else ?" 
 
 " He had on a light grey overcoat, and a hat 
 which looked as if the crown had been often sat 
 upon. That is all I noticed, excepting that he 
 had a lot of parcels and big boxes." 
 
 " And, Miss Rutherfurd," continues Mrs. 
 Napier, suddenly recollecting Thyrza is Mark's 
 protegee, and the girl proposed by him as gover- 
 ness for her children — " you have been at 
 school in Yillios.''''
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 133 
 
 '^ Yes." 
 
 " Kh, I suppose you were considered the 
 pattern girl of the school ?" 
 
 '^ Indeed I was not/^ says Thyrza^ wondering 
 why Miss Lefroy is giving her such odd little 
 nods behind her spectacles. " I was considered 
 the black sheep of the pension. The girls used 
 to call me Beelzebub, and Beel for short, as it 
 was rather long to say the whole name, because 
 I was always up to some mischief." 
 
 " My dear I" exclaims Miss Lefroy ; ^^ what 
 sort of girls could they have been ?" 
 
 " Some of them were awfully jolly, but others 
 were such sneaks^ and told Miss Holt whenever 
 we went over to the confectioner^s for macaroons 
 or bonbons. We used to slip out through the 
 garden by a little side gate to the shop, which 
 was next door but one to M. PauPs, and on the 
 same side as the Flying Dragon." 
 
 " Were you found out ?" asks Mrs. Napier. 
 
 " Well, once Miss Holt came into the shop 
 while I was buying chocolate creams for a friend 
 of mine. I had just time to dive under the 
 counter and crawl to the other side on my hands 
 and knees, where I lay in fear and trembling 
 until she had gone. One of the girls told — 
 mean thing ! and I got no dinner for two days. 
 But that was a lon^ time ago," pursues Thyrza,
 
 134 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " I was only fourteen tlien^ and quite a little girl. 
 I have been junior English teacher for a year." 
 
 " It must have been a fine sort of teaching/^ 
 says Mrs. Napier, in her soft cooing voice. 
 
 " So it was ; I got on capitally. Sometimes 
 we acted charades, and I always took the man's 
 part. The last time Miss Holt was scandalized 
 because one of the girls brought a suit of her 
 brother's old sailor's clothes to school with her, 
 and I put them on. I made such a good man ; 
 the girls thought I looked much nicer with a 
 moustache than without it, and I think so too. 
 Miss Holt was so angry, for I put my hands in 
 my trousers pockets, and strutted and swaggered, 
 just as I have seen petit-creves do in Villios.-" 
 
 '^ Come here, Miss Rutherfurd,'' beckons Miss 
 Lefroy, as Luke Mark and the other men enter 
 the drawing-room. " My dear,'' she goes on, in 
 a low whisper — " my dear, do not say any more 
 about moustaches and — and — Beelzebub !" 
 
 " Ought I not to have said that ?" inquires 
 Thyrza, horror-stricken and in the utmost con- 
 sternation. '^ I did not know.. What shall I 
 do ? Shall I say I did not know ?" 
 
 " No, no ; that would only make it worse." 
 
 " Do you take any interest in old china ?" 
 asks Mr. Lefroy, briskly, rolling along the velvet- 
 pile carpet.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 135 
 
 ^^ Well, yes ; it is a fact I do, Mr. Lefroy," 
 says Thyrza. 
 
 " Then you will appreciate the specimens I 
 have gathered together. The Dresden ware I 
 keep in this cabinet, which is all made of glass, 
 shelves and sides, and mirrors at the back and 
 below to reflect the figures. You will observe it 
 has a very fine effect, and it is my own design, 
 and you must know that my taste a leetle 
 approaches perfection.^' 
 
 Mr. Lefroy pauses to regard himself with 
 infinite satisfaction in one of the gilt girandoles 
 above the cabinet. 
 
 " This plate, with the raised figures, is a piece 
 of the celebrated Palissy ware. I can assure you 
 it is rare, very rare, particularly rare. The 
 dark-blue dish, with the gold enamel, is a speci- 
 men of Limoges, still rarer. Now, the lace on 
 this shepherdess's dress is beautifully done, and 
 the roses in her hair are painted by hand. Dear 
 me ! I was at considerable trouble and expense 
 in bringing all these treasures safely to Lillies- 
 hill. It requires a very fine eye, I can tell you, 
 to distinguish between the real and imitation 
 Dresden/' 
 
 " If you are not too tired. Miss Rutherfurd, 
 will you give us a little music ?" asks Mark. " Do 
 you remember anything without the notes ?"
 
 136 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Then Mr. Lefroy sits down on an ottoman 
 near the conservatory while Thyrza goes to the 
 piano, and he reflects that everything has gone 
 off capitally; the fish was done to a T and cut 
 firm and clean; there was a little too much 
 pepper in the sonp_, perhaps_, but otherwise it 
 was excellent. The omelettes were tough as 
 shoe-leather, that came of the dinner being 
 later than usual. He must mind that another 
 time. Inhere is a chance for Luke now, the 
 MacNab girls will each have 20,000/. down 
 when they marry. He will promise not to spoil 
 sport. Why, he could have either of them to- 
 morrow foi the mere asking, they are so awfully 
 in love with him. That new port is really very 
 inferior. He will send for the wine merchant's 
 account and shut him up at once. Scarcely a 
 drop of decent stuff to be had since Gladstone 
 advocated cheap sherry. Showy-looking girls 
 the MacNabs, but Mrs. Napier carries off the 
 palm undeniably — can't hold a candle to her. 
 
 Mrs. Napier is playing Bezique with Archie 
 MacNab, and Lola and Mark are their oppo- 
 nents. Without the least apparent effort, she 
 has attracted the attention of the minister and 
 Mr. MacNab to assist her in choosing what 
 cards to throw away, and appeals to Mark to be 
 told how much four kings count. " Bezique
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 137 
 
 is such a frightfully intricate game, and she 
 is so unfortunately stupid about recollecting 
 numbers, she never can remember how much 
 four kings count. '^ She puts her pretty 
 elbows, round and smooth, from which the 
 lace sleeves have slipped back, on to the 
 mother- o'-pearl inlaid three-legged table, and 
 glances up into Mr. Dods" face with an innocent 
 abandon, which makes Lola marvel how it is Mrs. 
 Napier always contrives to look so charming, 
 and how is it her skirts hang like those in the 
 fashion plates, and her attitudes resemble those 
 in a picture. In all this there is art, but it is 
 the perfection of art and acting, for everything 
 Charity says and does is with calculation as to 
 the effect it will produce on others, and although 
 all is studied it appears simplicity and nature 
 itself. 
 
 Thyrza is at home at the piano ; she is a 
 born musician, and Mr. Spindler has done his 
 best to cultivate her talent. Her fingers ramble 
 over the keys into Ascher^s San-Souci, and from 
 that to a classical piece, a favourite of the old 
 music master's, but thrown away upon the 
 present audience. That style of music almost 
 requires a special education to be appreciated, as 
 game eaten high is not relished by the multi- 
 tude. As she plays loud the conversation grows
 
 138 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 forte ; when she plays piano_, the voices sink to 
 pianissimo. Music always exercises a peculiarly 
 soothing effect on Thyrza. When angry, or 
 vexed, or in a fit of the blues, she invariably 
 derives consolation from her piano. It is as 
 good as a pipe of extra excellent tobacco to an 
 inveterate smoker who has not smoked for 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 She has colours in her mind^s eye for the 
 music of different composers. The Sonata Pas- 
 sione with its broad glorious chords she calls 
 deep crimson ; Beethoven in general is rich 
 purple with dark Rembrandt shadows thrown 
 across the brightness of melody. Certain com- 
 positions of Schumann recall a sunset on a 
 clear frosty night. Some of the old Masters 
 twilight on a November evening, when the sun 
 has gone behind the hills, and only a crimson 
 glow remains in the sky with a single star shining 
 out in the West. The wild despairing pathos of 
 Schumann^s Manfred brings before her a picture 
 of waves breaking on a lonely shore, with a dis- 
 masted ship floating helplessly along at the mercy 
 of the elements. A white rag of what has been 
 a sail is still wrapped round the broken stump 
 of the main-mast ; an immense wave, like a huge 
 monster ready to devour the ill-fated vessel, is
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 139 
 
 moving on towards it : there is no moon, only- 
 dull dark banks of heaving clouds. 
 
 Perhaps it is not astonishing that in her more 
 dreamy moments, Thyrza^s head is filled with odd 
 fancies which come and go at will. Circum- 
 stances in early life mould the character to 
 a great extent. In childhood we cannot fight 
 against them, as we can do when older. Part 
 of Thyrza"'s life has been very solitary. During 
 the Midsummer and Christmas holidays she has 
 always been left alone at the pension under the 
 charge of an old woman called Mere Pantoufile, 
 who with the assistance of another elderly indi- 
 vidual cleaned the house during the absence of 
 Miss Holt. 
 
 So she had plenty of time for dreaming, sitting 
 in the old tree among its apple blossoms near the 
 slow- flowing river, playing solemn mass music 
 in the sitting room in the firelight, with Mr. 
 Spindler accompanying her on his violin. Saun- 
 tering solitary through the chilly cloisters of the 
 ancient convent where the nuns had paced up 
 and down — did any thoughts of the world left 
 outside, flit across their holy meditations? — looking 
 out upon the gay fete-keepers at Christmas when 
 each little peasant had his snug home to go to, 
 while she was left to celebrate the festival with
 
 140 BROWN AS A BEKRY. 
 
 Mere Pantouffle ; always longing to take licr share 
 in the drama of life,, and always obliged to stand 
 back a spectator, she has lived more in dreamland 
 than in reality. 
 
 As she finishes the classical piece^ Mrs. 
 Napier's low replies to Mark, and her rippling 
 laughter at his disappointment on losing his game, 
 warn Thyrza she is at Lillieshill. 
 
 " That^s a sweet little thing/^ says the 
 minister, '' but I prefer something with more 
 tune in it.^^ 
 
 " Very nice, very nice,^^ comments Mr. Lefroy, 
 struggling violently with a strong tendency to 
 indulge in his usual after-dinner nap. " I will 
 show you how to play it. In books, music, 
 pictures, it is the style of a thing which is every- 
 thing. Even an ugly woman, if she has but 
 style, will make a great impression, when a 
 pretty country bumpkin would never be looked at.^^ 
 
 " Well, it^s a fact,"*"* responds Thyrza, demurely, 
 her dark eyes flashing brilliantly, a contrast to 
 the gravity of her countenance. 
 
 '' Do you know any Scotch airs T' asks Mr. 
 MacNab. " There^s more real melody and poetry 
 in the ' Flowers o' the Forest,^ or the ^ Land o' 
 the Leal,^ than in the finest operatic song.'' 
 
 " A very heretical opinion,'"* answers Miss 
 Lefroy, laughing ; " the German school of music
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 14] 
 
 of which Miss Rutherfurd has just been giving 
 us a specimen is all the fashion now/^ 
 
 " I cannot be troubled with the German 
 school/^ rejoins Mr. MacNab ; " I like the old- 
 fashioned tunes best_, although I daresay it is not 
 the thing J' 
 
 Thyrza begins a selection of Scotch reels 
 arranged by Mr. Spindler^ which she gives with 
 such spirit that Mr. MacNab rocks up and 
 down, keeping time with his feet ; in fact, he 
 would snap his fingers, were not his w^ife casting 
 wrathful glances of indignation at him. Mrs. 
 MacNab is not proud of the low descent of her 
 husband, and would fain send to the Heralds' 
 ofi&ce for a crest and coat of arms, but MacNab, 
 while not caring one whit who knows of his 
 parentage, and having the good sense not to 
 flourish it in every one^s face, will not allow his 
 wife to do anything of the kind. So she has, 
 perforce, to content herself with having mono- 
 grams painted in divers shapes and forms all 
 over Quentinshope. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! Miss Rutherfurd," cries 
 Mr. MacNab, rising to wish Miss Lefroy good 
 evening, the carriages having been brought 
 round ; " I have not heard the like of that play- 
 ing these twenty years. Will you be in this 
 neighbourhood in the autumn T'
 
 142 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " I do not know/' returns Thyrza^ smiling. 
 
 '^Because if you are^ you must come to our 
 ball in October. It is to be given for Lola's 
 coming of age.'' 
 
 " Thanks, I am not sure, but if I am it will 
 deligbt me extremely." 
 
 " Miss Lefroy says you have some relations in 
 Scotland,— Mr. Rutherfurd, of High Riggs. You'll 
 be certain to stay with your grandfather ?" 
 
 This is an awkward question, for old Mr. 
 Eutherfurd has announced in plain terms he will 
 have nothing to do with Thyrza. 
 
 " I think not," she answers. 
 
 "Ah, well, but if possible you must come. 
 Archie there, is splendid at the Highland Fling." 
 
 " Is that a Scotch song ? — is it pretty ?" in- 
 quires Thyrza. 
 
 " No," says Mr. MacNab, with a hearty laugh, 
 " it's a Scotch dance. The autumn is a long 
 while off yet, but if you are in Scotland you 
 must dance the reel of Hoolachin with me. If 
 you are not at Lillieshill, you will come and pay 
 us a visit at Quentins, I hope, whenever we 
 settle to have the ball. So it's a promise/'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OES the sun annoy yon, Miss Thyrza?^^ 
 asks Luke Mark. 
 
 " No, not at all. I like to feel it shining on 
 my face." 
 
 " Ah, you see you have no wrinkles or crows 
 feet to be revealed. What is it like to be sweet 
 seventeen, and all one^s life before you?" 
 
 " Very pleasant indeed, Mr. Mark. Seven- 
 teen ! Why, I shall live thirty years, at any 
 rate, yet. Fancy thirty whole years, in which 
 some nice things must happen." 
 
 " Would you mind moving a little more to 
 the left?" he pursues, standing in a reflective 
 attitude before his picture, his head thrown 
 slightly back with a critical air, a pipe in his 
 mouth, and his hands in his trousers pockets. 
 He has established his easel and painting ap- 
 paratus under the spreading branches of a fine 
 old beech tree on the lawn near the house.
 
 144 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 It is a lovely June morning. The sun shines 
 on the glittering dew still quivering like so many 
 precious stones in the white and yellow ox-eyed 
 daisies ; the blue, misty mountain peaks cutting 
 the clear air asunder, and the beech leaves in the 
 Lillieshill woods murmur to each other that this 
 is the blessed summer time ; that next year they 
 will lie dead, faded, sodden, and rotten under- 
 foot ; so they will drink their fill of the sun 
 while it shines, of the sweets of lilies and the 
 bloom of roses, will laugh to the moon and 
 glisten white in its beams; for say they, with 
 the Pagans of old, " Let us eat, let us drink, for 
 to-morrow we die." 
 
 How sweet the air is, loaded with the 
 perfume of lilacs and hawthorn flowers. The 
 day is still young; the sun^s rays have not 
 their full noonday strength yet, and can 
 hardly penetrate through the dense overhanging 
 leaves and branches in which a breeze creates 
 a thousand simultaneous dissolving lights and 
 shadows. 
 
 On the mossy banks by the pond and the 
 cascade the grasshoppers are clicking away 
 among the speedwells and my lady's bedstraw, 
 and little grey rabbits, with white scuds, rustle 
 abruptly out of sight into the copsewood from 
 a field of growing corn, in which, if the farmer
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 145 
 
 discovered them, they know some leaden pellets 
 would soon end their career. 
 
 " I thought so ; the light is wrong. It should 
 fall a little more on the left cheek, consequently, 
 on this shoulder. I see now. A few more 
 touches will just do it/' removing one hand 
 from his trousers-pocket. He then takes up his 
 mahl-stick, and raising it to a level with his eyes, 
 shuts one, and, to the uninitiated observer, 
 squints ferociously. 
 
 The picture is a portrait of Thyrza, repre- 
 senting her in a red gipsy-cloak, holding a 
 basket of flowers in her hand. Behind are trees 
 and an ancient stone balustrade, through the 
 bars of which shine the waters of a brook. The 
 stag-like eyes, with a pensive dreamy look in 
 them, are almost too wild for beauty ; they seem 
 to require taming ; but they give one an idea of 
 possessing a wonderful power of expression and 
 feeling in their hazel depths. The complexion is 
 olive, the mouth rather pouting, the nose delicate 
 and not very determined in shape, the brow 
 low and wide, from which the dark brown hair 
 grows back in rippling undulations and rich 
 heavy masses. Originally Mark had sketched in 
 a flower-girl, dressed in white and rose coloured 
 satin, with a necklace of pearls and a white 
 embroidered handkerchief tied loosely under her 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 BROWN AS A BEERY. 
 
 cliin. However^ finding the fit of the body 
 troublesome^, he gave it up, and retaining the 
 former attitude^ painted out the bodice^ drawing 
 in Thyrza^s face and cloak instead. 
 
 '' WeVe an hour to ourselves/' continues 
 Mark. " Uncle Eichard is safe until breakfast.'^ 
 
 " What is he doing ?" 
 
 " Exercising the turtle^ and after that he is 
 going to blow up the under-gardener ; I don't 
 know what about. I am afraid I shall be 
 obliged to rub out the face with turpentine. 
 The eyes don't do at all. They are too far 
 apart by the eighth of an inch." 
 
 " Oh;, I hope not/' says Thyrza. 
 
 In her secret soul she is not partial to 
 " sitting/' and regards the picture as intermin- 
 able,, Mark having a habit of painting right out 
 one day the labour of weeks. 
 
 " Oh, they are quite wrong. However, I can 
 easily alter them." 
 
 " When do you think it will be finished ?" 
 
 " Oh, some time or other/' he replies, in- 
 definitely. " I shall come to Carmylie and get 
 a sitting there occasionally, and by-and-by, I 
 dare say, Mrs. Napier will allow you to come 
 over to Lillieshill from Saturday until Monday. 
 This is only the first painting. I wish I had 
 the eyes right. After all, I don't believe there
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 147 
 
 is mucli wrong with them. Be a bore to alter 
 them, and then find they had been right at first. 
 Don^t look quite so serious ; it gives a disagree- 
 able expression to the corners of the mouth. 
 Try to smile.'' 
 
 Thyrza breaks into a merry laugh. Mark is 
 the least thing in the world provoked. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Mark, I shall be grave directly ; 
 but I do so want to laugh when I see you 
 looking so solemnly at me and measuring, just 
 as if I was somebody not real, you know. It is 
 so ridiculous.'' 
 
 "Try again,'' says Mark, good-humouredly. 
 " I am not quite certain about the proportions. 
 I want to measure your face, and you may laugh 
 as much as you like while I do that." 
 
 He takes a letter from his pocket and mea- 
 sures the length of Thyrza's face. It divides 
 exactly into three parts from the forehead to the 
 chin. Near the porch on the sweep is a figure 
 of a fat man in light summer attire. Mr. 
 Lefroy is waddling along to Mark with the 
 utmost haste. Being very stout and rotund, 
 it occupies him several minutes to traverse the 
 distance of fifty yards. 
 
 " Now keep grave this time," pursues Mark. 
 
 A lively wasp flies near Thyrza, coming 
 unpleasantly close to her face. She stands 
 
 10— i
 
 148 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 patiently, not venturing to move, and ap- 
 peals to Mark. He gets up from his camp- 
 stool, pursues the wasp enthusiastically with his 
 pocket-handkerchief, and seats himself, when it 
 returns, buzzing irritatingly in close proximity 
 with his aquiline nose, on which it manifests 
 a decided intention to crawl. 
 
 " Bother that brute V he exclaims, having 
 again routed the enemy and once more settled 
 himself with his palette on his thumb and picked 
 up the right brush for painting skin and not that 
 for laying on masses of colour. " Co?^found it ! 
 That^s the nuisance of summer ! One can^t sit 
 outside for a minute without being surrounded 
 by a flying host. What^s become of the smooth- 
 ing brush and the little palette knife ? I believe 
 I've upset the megilp. No I haven^t. I am 
 going to sketch in the arm, so will you put down 
 that piece of paper and hold the basket for the 
 attitude of the elbow ? Don't move for the life 
 of you. I will see about the paper.''' 
 
 " And do tell me whose likeness is on the 
 paper, Mr. Mark. Tve wanted to know ever 
 since I came here. I found it in my box the 
 night of my arrival.'' 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, he moves 
 away the drawing. It has hitherto been turned 
 with the blank side upwards ; now it is reversed.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 149 
 
 and tlie woman's face Thyrza had admired looks 
 up at him. 
 
 " Good God !" he cries_, recoiling back several 
 steps and becoming ashy white. " My wife V 
 
 " What is the matter^ Mr. Mark T' exclaims 
 Thyrza^ oblivious of the position that has taken 
 so much time in arranging^ and letting the 
 basket fall to the ground. " Oh_, don^t tear it 
 up. Are you really a married man ? You don^t 
 look in the least as if you were.'^ 
 
 " Why ? Are there particular signs which 
 denote a married man T' says he. 
 
 " Oh, I thought people looked much graver 
 and older when they were married.'''' 
 
 "Now, Miss Thyrza, no one knows I have a 
 wife excepting that lady herself, her unlucky 
 husband, and the man who read the service 
 for us.'' 
 
 " Not even Mr. Ferrier V 
 
 " No, I should think Jack did not know,'' he 
 answers almost fiercely. 
 
 " But I thought he was your greatest friend," 
 stammers Thyrza. 
 
 " So he is. But it is not convenient to let 
 even your best friend into the whole of your 
 secrets. However, you must not laugh when 
 you hear aunt or uncle talking of my future 
 marriage, and so on."
 
 150 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 « No ''—hesitatingly. 
 
 " In short, I wish you to keep the knowledge 
 of my wife a secret. It cannot touch or hurt 
 you in any way, or I would not ask it. All you 
 have to do is simply to say nothing.'" 
 
 Mr. Lefroy hearing down upon them within a 
 couple of yards prevents Thyrza from heing able 
 to do more than give a hasty answer in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 " Oh, Luke, I can hardly speak of it/' says 
 Mr. Lefroy, mournfully — '' that idiot of a Jen- 
 kins !" 
 
 " Has Europa sprained her \q^, or is Jupiter 
 off his feet?" 
 
 " The turtle which was getting on so nicely ! 
 I had the poor dear thing out to exercise a little 
 by the pond, and left Jenkins in charge while I 
 went up to the gardens to see how the tomatoes 
 are getting on, and when I came back it was 
 gone. Actually gone ! I shall have the pond 
 dragged, but I shall never see it again. And to 
 think what fine soup it would have made ! 
 I really think, Luke," continues Mr. Lefroy, 
 plaintively, " I really think the severe loss 
 will have a great effect on my health for some- 
 time." 
 
 " You should have the pond dragged." 
 
 " I shall ; but the turtle is lost for ever. The
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 151 
 
 largest one I ever saw alive in this country. 
 Ah ! how is the portrait progressing ? Let me 
 put a few touches in that corner to show you 
 the sort of thing it wants.^' 
 
 " Oh ! don't trouble/' rejoins Mark, hastily. 
 " I know what you mean.'' 
 
 '' You can't until I have shown you/' pursues 
 Mr. Lefroy. Every one considers himself at 
 liberty to criticise the production of an amateur. 
 Even a person who can scarcely distinguish an 
 oil painting from a water colour will have no 
 scruple in pronouncing judgment upon the un- 
 fortunate amateur. " There is something queer 
 about the eyes. Don't you think there is a 
 slight cast in one ?" 
 
 Mr. Lefroy seizes hold of the palette and 
 mixes some colours, preparing to execute his 
 improvements, when the gong sounds for break- 
 fast. 
 
 " What is the thermometer to-day ?" Mark 
 asks adroitly, as they draw near the house. 
 
 *' Bless me ! bless me ! I had forgotten to 
 look. What a lucky thing you reminded me/' 
 and he trots off to the tree in which the ther- 
 mometer is fastened. 
 
 " Then I can rely upon you ?" says Mark to 
 Thyrza, while entering the dining-room where 
 M iss Lefroy is waiting, and she replies quickly —
 
 152 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Yes, you can/^ 
 
 A breakfast table in a Scoteb country house 
 is one of the pleasantest sights possible belonging 
 to the material senses. How picturesque to the 
 hungry eye is the dish of trout,, fried in butter 
 and oatmeal ; the snowy scones laid in damask 
 napkins ; the golden marmalade and heather- 
 honey ; the crisp oatcakes ; the abundant choice 
 of various sweets ; and later on^ the cold grouse 
 or capercailzie; while added to all this the 
 steamy scent of coffee or chocolate breathes an 
 agreeable invitation to begin ! 
 
 The sun streams brightly through the French 
 windows and half closed persiennes on to the 
 white cloth, silver hissing tea-urn, and a ^' bit " 
 of rich colouring by Meissonier on the wall. 
 Miss Lefroy^s peacocks, impatient for their break- 
 fast, come and tap on the panes to remind her 
 time is on the wing, and that they are on the 
 look out for their breadcrumbs. At Lillieshill, 
 the custom is to open the post-bag before 
 breakfast, and arrange the letters for each 
 person in a little heap at the side of his plate. 
 Whether this be a good plan or not, it is the 
 regular system. 
 
 Some visitors, stronger minded than others, 
 exercised sufficient self-control, after turning 
 over their epistle to ascertain the post-mark —
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 153 
 
 an instinct common with every one — to place the 
 document in their pockets, thus enabling them 
 to eat their breakfasts with a good digestion and 
 quiet pulse. 
 
 There is a large pile awaiting Mark,, on which 
 Miss Lefroy comments playfully. 
 
 " What a pretty monogram there is on one of 
 your letters, Luke. You have got quite a 
 general post-office to-day .''' 
 
 " Do you want the monogram for some of the 
 girls who are collecting crests T' he returns, 
 opening a letter nonchalantly and tearing off 
 the purple and silver monogram for Miss 
 Lefroy. 
 
 ^' Thanks. What is the name ? Luke, 
 Louisa ; no, it is none of those. One can 
 never make head or tail of these unintelligible 
 twists and curves. This might be Greek or 
 Hebrew, or Chinese, for any word that can be 
 deciphered.^^ 
 
 " Lilith,''^ answers Mark, placidly. ^' She is 
 a friend of mine in London, and wants me to 
 get her one of those Skye terriers without be- 
 ginning or end. I am to telegraph immediately 
 from Queensmuir as to when I think I can 
 obtain it. Mrs. Temple will probably kill it 
 with kindness for a month, and then it will be 
 discarded for some newer attraction.^^
 
 154 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " What was the height of the thermometer, 
 Richard ?' 
 
 " Sixty-five in the shade. The cook is getting 
 very careless about the cutlets, and the coifee is 
 not fit to drink/'' 
 
 " You had better s^Dcak to her/-' 
 
 ^'1 shall when I order the dinner/'' 
 
 Mr. Lefroy is very emphatic on the subject, 
 and to hear him speak one would think him the 
 greatest autocrat that ever lived, whereas the 
 mistress of the kitchen who ministers to his 
 epicurean tastes rules him with a rod of iron, 
 and is in reality the head of the house. 
 
 '' I am thinking of going to Queensmuir 
 immediately/^ says Mark, rising from the table. 
 ^' If any one has any commands I shall be happy 
 to fulfil them.'' 
 
 " My box of after-dinner pills is finished, 
 Luke. You can tell the chemist to make up 
 another dozen. Should recommend you to try 
 them. Composition of my own. The chemist 
 said he had never seen anything like the pre- 
 scription." 
 
 " Then I am off," rejoins Mark. " Have not 
 you got any shades of wool that want match- 
 ing for that voluminous sofa blanket you are 
 working for a Sandwich Island chief, Aunt 
 Fanny ?'
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 155 
 
 " Don't be irreverent, Luke. It^s going to 
 be sold for the S. P. G. But even if I did 
 want any worsted you would never match the 
 
 '' Don''t forget the pills, Luke/^ calls out Mr. 
 Lefroy, as Mark leaves the room on his way to 
 the stables. 
 
 " What would you like to do to-day, Thyrza V 
 Miss Lefroy has arrived at the familiarity of 
 Thyrza''s Christian name. " Have a ride, dear ? 
 I must call on Lord and Lady George Boggs. 
 That would be no amusement to you, they are 
 both so deaf, and talking for an hour through an 
 ear-trumpet is very exhausting. Do you know 
 ' Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy T " 
 
 " No,'' says Thyrza. 
 
 " There is such capital advice in it about 
 matrimony. It advises all girls to pray for a 
 good husband, and whether they get him or not 
 it can do the man no harm and most likely will 
 benefit him. A good husband is the best pre- 
 sent a girl can have ; it is better than money, 
 better than good looks, better than cleverness. 
 There is a mate born for every one.'' 
 
 " Then what became of yours ?" asks Thyrza. 
 " Oh, I beg " 
 
 " He must have died in the cradle, for he did 
 not come up to time, you see," returns Miss
 
 156 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Lefroy^ not in tlie least offended. ^' However, I 
 hope yours has not shared the same misfortune. 
 It is a dreary life to be a governess, always 
 among little children.^' 
 
 ^^ Horrid pests," says Thyrza. 
 
 " Oh, I like children ; but it must be tire- 
 some teaching them, unless you have a born love 
 of teaching implanted in you. You are a nice 
 little girl, I have taken a fancy to you, and I 
 hope you will spend your holidays at Lillieshill. 
 But I think you are right in going to work at 
 Carmylie ; it is preferable to being dependent on 
 your relations, and Luke is still rather young to 
 have a ward of your age. Well, dear, go and 
 put on your habit and be back in time for lunch, 
 if you can." 
 
 Then Mr. Lefroy says grace and departs to 
 the kitchen to deliver his opinions on the subject 
 of the cutlets to the housekeeper, and consult 
 with her concerning the great event of the day 
 — dinner; and Miss Lefroy, wearing an enor- 
 mous slop-basin hat, which swallows up her 
 small thin face, comes out of the conservatory 
 with a plate of breadcrumbs for the pet pea- 
 cocks. She watches Thyrza, in an old dark blue 
 habit, formerly Miss Lcfroy^s, canter down the 
 avenue, and then, feeling a little sad with the 
 thought of the vanished time when she herself was
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 157 
 
 young and lighthearted as the girl rider^, she turns 
 to caress the peacocks standing round her picking 
 up the crumbs,, after which she goes to clip the 
 dead leaves and withered flowers from her plants. 
 She takes no part in the housekeeping, Mr. 
 Lefroy transacts everything connected with it 
 himself, thereby sparing his sister a great amount 
 of work and annoyance. 
 
 No go-between — on the important matter of 
 eating — would content Mr. Lefroy. This settled, 
 Mr. Lefroy walks round his Home Farm, talks 
 to his grieve (farm bailiff), looks at the turnips ; 
 thinks the editor of the KUniddryshire Adver- 
 tiser is a smart pushing fellow, quite took his 
 view of that case. Shall ask him to Lillieshill 
 for a couple of days^ partridge shooting in the 
 autumn ; comes home to lunch ; drives into the 
 country ; criticises his flowers and grapes ; has 
 afternoon tea ; writes letters ; dinner ; has a 
 nap, snores ; protests " Fanny always thinks he 
 is asleep, if he closes his eyes for two seconds, 
 when on the contrary he was just thinking of a 
 patent swivel -" has cofi*ee, reads The Field and 
 The Times, and is sure he knows better than 
 " that correspondent,^^ and goes to bed convinced 
 there are not many more enlightened men in 
 the world than himself. 
 
 Luke Mark drives into Queensmuir, and puts up
 
 158 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 at tlie Carmylie Arms inn. The Queensmuirians 
 stare at him in wonder and great admiration, as 
 though they had never beheld a human being before. 
 
 Queensmuir is a little manufacturing town, 
 not unlike Villios in its narrow, ill paved, and 
 worst lighted winding streets, with odd unex- 
 pected corners, and " wynds^^ or " closes,^^ up 
 which the wind blows when apparently there is 
 none anywhere else. 
 
 It is irregularly built; some of the houses 
 being several stories high, and others short and 
 low, as if they had received a knock on the 
 head, preventing their further growth. 
 
 Hills, blue as the Franconian range of which 
 the Transatlantic poet sings so sweetly, surround 
 Queensmuir on all sides. 
 
 Excepting from the west end it is impossible 
 to enter the town, unless by ascending or de- 
 scending rising ground. 
 
 In winter and when the roads are bad, which 
 happens whenever there is a rainy day, the 
 weather acting the parts of road maker and 
 scavenger, this last mentioned feature in the land- 
 scape is a consideration. 
 
 Things never having been different in Queens- 
 muir, no one remonstrates. 
 
 The discontent with the state of existing cir- 
 cumstances evaporates in a hearty fit of grum-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 159 
 
 bling, when the time comes for paying the road 
 assessments. 
 
 Besides^ nothing can be done in Queensmuir 
 without the consent of the Baron Bailie, whose 
 ideas on all subjects by no means tally with 
 those of the Queensmuirians. They may fret 
 and fume as they like, explode in wrath in 
 letters to the Kilniddry shire Advertiser , to 
 ventilate their troubles according to the gene- 
 ral custom when any one has a grievance, but the 
 Bailie holds his own, and administers his autho- 
 rity after his own lights, in defiance of the com- 
 bined strength of the whole Parochial Board. 
 
 A great deal of business is transacted in 
 Queensmuir, it being the terminus town for a 
 pretty extensive distinct of glen and hill country. 
 Of competition there is none ; two butchers 
 rule the roast, and determine the price of beef 
 for a population of upwards of 4000 inhabitants. 
 There is only one house-painter, and other trades 
 are represented in proportion. The shopkeepers, 
 having their regular customers, and knowing 
 the next town, Middleby, to be at an incon- 
 venient distance for those persons living in the 
 country, are thoroughly independent. They 
 will receive your money if you choose to pa- 
 tronize them with your custom, but if you like 
 to transfer it elsewhere, you are at perfect
 
 160 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 liberty to do so^ and they will not exert them- 
 selves in any way to retain it. 
 
 Society^ properly so called, does not exist, 
 Queensmuir being split up into numerous petty 
 factions, owing to internal disputes, and only 
 two families on an average in tbe place, are on 
 speaking terms with the whole community. 
 
 Marriages are, on the whole, numerous among 
 the lower classes; the new year and the terms 
 Whitsuntide and Martinmas being the favourite 
 times of the year, but there is a deadlock among 
 the young ladies from lack of suitors, their equals 
 in rank, and the majority of them stand an excel- 
 lent chance of becoming old maids, unless some 
 •wave of good fortune should bring into Queensmuir 
 a small army of clerks, ministers, and others with 
 salaries varying from two to three hundred a year, 
 and each, like C celebs, in search of a wife. 
 
 Such an advent would be hailed with pleasure 
 by the fathers and brothers, who do not admire 
 the foreboding that their daughters and sisters 
 will probably remain on their hands altogether, 
 for, whatever may be said to the contrary, the 
 men of the family are never averse to see their 
 unattached feminine belongings enter into the 
 longed for Canaan of matrimony. 
 
 In Queensmuir there are ten kirks, not count- 
 ing the Episcopal Church, and also four banks,
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 161 
 
 from wliicli it may be inferred that the souls and 
 purses alike of the lieges of the burgh are well 
 taken care of. 
 
 A Town House, lately renovated and beauti- 
 fied, adorns the High Street, and a large gilt 
 salamander or dragon looks down from the 
 parish kirk steeple over the worthy burghers. 
 S. Bridget is the patron saint. 
 
 It probably is not the correct thing for all 
 towns to have patron saints. Be this as it may, 
 Queensmuir boasts one — a relic, no doubt, of the 
 '^ Pope, that Pagan full of pride,''"' the mere 
 mention of whom is sufficient to make many 
 Queensmuirians feel as uncomfortable as though the 
 " Great Sooty Original,'"' horns and all, were visible 
 among them. But S. Bridget is not so much 
 reverenced as the stronger spirit, S. Whisky; 
 people in general seeming to prefer the tangible 
 and concrete substance to the abstract and unseen. 
 
 Many superstitions still linger in Queensmuir. 
 Hallowe^en is observed, old style, when the 
 gardens of the bachelors in the vicinity of the 
 town are pillaged by the unmarried women for 
 kale stocks^ Anglice, plants of kale. They must 
 be gathered in the dark, and are placed behind 
 the doors of their houses, when the first man 
 who comes in the morning will, it is supposed, 
 be the future husband. 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 The crowino: of a cock at tintinieous hours is 
 firmly regarded as an omen of death or mis- 
 fortune, also the howling of a dog at night ; 
 and a brood of chickens which turn out all hens 
 is considered very unlucky. 
 
 The Queensmuirians look down with pa- 
 tronizing contempt on the dwellers in the glens 
 as " country bodies wha ken naething/^ and the 
 country bodies think Queensmuir an amazingly 
 large city. 
 
 Instead of going to the post-office, which is 
 kept by an old shopkeeper of a pious turn of 
 mind and a remarkable shortness of temper — 
 two attributes that not unfrequently accompany 
 each other — Mark wends his way to one of the 
 four banks. Probably he intends despatching 
 his telegram about the Skye terrier afterwards. 
 This bank, called the British Jute Company, is a 
 square, dingy, dirty- grey house, fronting the 
 High Street and the Town House. It is the 
 essence of neatness and respectability within and 
 without. Woe betide the hapless spider who 
 spins its web in Mrs. Hislop^s dining or drawing- 
 room cornice ! woe to the unfortunate domestic 
 who should venture to take an extra half hour in 
 bed on washing morning ! and woe to that indi- 
 vidual who should mar the spotless expanse of
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 163 
 
 the clean doorstep by forgetting to scrape the 
 mud of Queensmuir off his feet ! 
 
 Mr. Hislop, the banker, is considered more in 
 the light of a friend and confidential adviser of 
 the Lillieshill family than as a mere man of 
 business. Besides being a banker, he is also a 
 '^ writer'^ or lawyer, and conducts the cases 
 under the Sheriff in the Small Debt Courts, held 
 in the Town House every month. In appear- 
 ance he is not unlike a penguin, with pale blue 
 eyes, and is fast growing ponderous in corpora- 
 tion. Most of the county families bank at the 
 B. J. C, and more than half of them employ 
 Mr. Hislop as their factor. In consequence of 
 this, Mr. Hislop is disposed to regard the county 
 families as men and women very superior indeed 
 to the class of which he himself forms a worthy 
 member. He is asked out to dinner once or 
 twice every year at the best houses, where he 
 enjoys a good dinner with good wine. And at 
 those places at which he is rather a favourite, he 
 is generally invited over for some days* shooting 
 in the autumn. 
 
 All this is greatly relished by his bustling, 
 sharp-tempered, warm-hearted wife. When Mrs. 
 Hislop has dined at Lillieshill, she usually has a 
 party a few evenings afterwards, at which she 
 
 11—2
 
 164 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 amuses her friends and neighbours by quoting 
 secondhand the sayings and doings of old Lord 
 and Lady George Bogg, thus impressing the 
 Queensmuirians with a sense of her importance 
 and intimacy with the " upper ten^^ of the county. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hislop have two sons and a 
 daughter — Tertius^ Tom^ and Robertina. The 
 former is intended to follow in his father's foot- 
 steps^ while Tom is to be a medical man. At 
 present he is employed in his father's bank as 
 clerkj and a nice time Mr. Jardine^ the ac- 
 countant^ has in making him do his w^ork^ Tom 
 being much more inclined to drawing caricatures 
 in the bank books and play tricks, than add up 
 columns of figures and estimate the rate of dis- 
 count. The Miss MacNabs, in a pony carriage 
 from Long Acre_, and a diminutive tiger perched 
 behind^ have just driven across the High Street, 
 attended by sundry admiring urchins,, who are 
 holding on in the background, when they pull up 
 to speak to Mr. Dods. 
 
 " Tertius, the MacNabs are talking to Cousin 
 James/' says Tom, stopping in the middle of a 
 declaration he is writing out for Mr. Hislop, to 
 step down from his three-legged stool and look 
 through the black wire blinds that have been 
 put up to prevent the clerks from gazing out 
 and the Queensmuirians from staring in.
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 165 
 
 '^ Is Mr. Hislop at home T' asks Mark, push- 
 ing back the red baize swing doors, and entering 
 the bank. 
 
 A shock head of light brown hair, a pair of 
 blue eyes speckled with black spots, and a very 
 small nose, which constitute the chief traits in 
 Tom Hislop's physiognomy, is turned round for 
 Mark^s observation, from his post. Tom has ex- 
 pected to see Mr. Jardine, and is not disap- 
 pointed to behold instead Mark^s pleasant, good- 
 looking face. 
 
 " Yes, he is.'' 
 
 '' I want to speak to him,'' pursues Mark. 
 
 Mr. Hislop is sitting in his private room 
 talking over some business matters with Mr. 
 Jardine. He rises on hearing Mark wishes to 
 see him, and the accountant goes out into the 
 bank. 
 
 "All well at Lillieshill, I hope?" says Mr. 
 Hislop. " Mr. Lefroy is thinking of sending his 
 cattle to Battersea soon, I believe ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; all well." Then Mark hesitates a 
 little. 
 
 " The roads really pretty fair ?" observes Mr. 
 Hislop. 
 
 " Yes, I did not notice ; I suppose they are." 
 
 Mark appears to find some difficulty in ex- 
 plaining himself. Mr. Hislop does not know
 
 166 BKOWN AS A BEREY. 
 
 how to assist him. He wishes his wife were 
 here. Helena is always capital in an emergency 
 of this kind. 
 
 " I want you to transact a little business for 
 me/^ begins Mark. " I need hardly say I have 
 known you so long^ Mr. Hislop, that I can 
 depend upon it being strictly between ourselves^ 
 and going no further.^-' 
 
 Mr. Hislop peers cautiously round him^ sees 
 that the door is slightly ajar^ closes it softly, and 
 says — 
 
 " Mr. Mark, if it is within the power of mortal 
 man I will do what I can. You may trust 
 me.^^ 
 
 This is with a reservation. If Mrs. Hislop 
 has not seen Mark in Queensmuir, she will ask 
 no inconvenient questions ; but if she becomes 
 aware of the fact, then Mr. Hislop knows she 
 will persecute him at night until, from sheer 
 weariness, he may be induced to answer her, 
 and partially reveal the truth. Mr. Hislop likes 
 his night's rest, and, if possible, wishes to serve 
 his client also. But what can be the business ? 
 Can Mark have failed and lost his money ? Or 
 does he want to buy shares in some company, 
 or in the cargo of a merchant vessel ? Mr. 
 Hislop not long ago realized a comfortable sum 
 by sending out salt to a country unprovided
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 167 
 
 witli that condiment. Or has Mark come to 
 inquire about a shooting, or to rent a house in 
 the neighbourhood ? 
 
 " A friend of mine who has made an unfortu- 
 nate marriage, and does not wish his name to 
 appear in the transaction, has commissioned me 
 to act for him in this case,'^ says Mark, a bril- 
 liant inspiration seizing him to represent himself 
 by an imaginary friend ; " I thought I could 
 not apply to a better person than yourself. My 
 friend has, therefore, asked me to lend him a 
 hundred pounds in the meantime, which he will 
 repay me through his London bankers. He in- 
 tends to pay his wife two hundred pounds per 
 quarter.^' 
 
 " Yes,^^ says Mr. Hislop. " You are confident 
 of your friend''s good faith V^ 
 
 He is astonished, but he gives no sign of 
 amazement. The friend seems rather a doubtful 
 reality. In his own experience of men, he has 
 invariably found that it was " every one for him- 
 self, and let the weakest go to the wall.^^ Mark^'s 
 ready compliance to lend money to his friend is 
 incomprehensible. To the hard-headed, shrewd 
 Scotchman it is inexplicable. He judges others 
 by himself, and is certain he would not have 
 done so. But Mark has mentioned that the 
 money is for a woman, which to Mr. Hislop's
 
 168 BROWN AS A BERET. 
 
 mind explains everything. People have always 
 a motive for their actions, and probably Mark's 
 is to oblige the lady. 
 
 " Most decidedly I have confidence in my 
 friend. ^^ 
 
 " I presume he and his wife are separated 
 from each other T' goes on Mr. Hislop. 
 
 " Yes, they are/' rejoins Mark. " I am ont of 
 a cheqne-book at present ; I shonld like to send 
 the first cheque by this post. On the 30th of 
 this month will yon despatch the two hundred 
 pounds V 
 
 " Will you favour me with the name of the 
 party to whom the cheque is payable T' 
 
 " Lilith Dawson," writes Mark. 
 
 " I fear that is a bad pen, Mr. Mark,'' inter- 
 rupted Mr. Hislop. " I use fine-pointed pens, 
 but perhaps you prefer a broader point." 
 
 " I like a quill in general,'' says Mark, writing 
 the address for Mr. Hislop with a quill, and 
 blotting the paper on a new blotting-pad. " It 
 may be as well to scrawl a few lines to my friend 
 to let him know I have done as he wished." 
 
 " Very true, Mr. Mark." Understanding from 
 Mark's manner that he does not care to be 
 further interrogated on the subject of this fin end 
 who is separated from his wife. He has already
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 169 
 
 decided that Mark must be acquainted with her, 
 or else the friend must pay heavy interest for the 
 loan. It is highly improbable a business man 
 would lend money on any other terms. Then 
 Mark has brought no papers about it. There 
 ought to have been some sort of an agreement 
 surely ? However, he ought to know his own 
 afif'airs best. Still, as an old friend of Mark^s, he 
 must utter one more protest. 
 
 " Mr. Mark, I trust your friend's finances are 
 all right. Your good nature should not lead 
 you into trouble. One of the nicest and most 
 promising young men I ever knew was ruined 
 by being surety for a friend." 
 
 " Have I not told you, Mr. Hislop, that I 
 shall get it back again T' answers Mark, folding 
 up the letter he has written to his wife, and 
 placing the cheque inside the paper in the en- 
 velope, directed with the broad quill charged 
 very full with ink. " I have written the cheque 
 for June 30th — I mean, filled in the name of the 
 lady for you." 
 
 " Although your friend^s name is not to 
 appear, have you any objection to yours? 
 When I send the money, shall I say, ' To 
 Lilith Dawson, from Luke Mark ?' " 
 
 " It will not signify about my name. She
 
 170 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ■will suppose I have something to do with the 
 lawyer/^ he replies_, drying the envelope on the 
 blotting-pad. 
 
 Mr. Hislop often takes his county visitors 
 upstairs to have a glass of wine and a biscuit ; 
 but he does not ask Mark to-day. He knows 
 all the skeletons and secret histories of nearly 
 every family in Kilniddryshire, and he wishes he 
 could see the lady to whom such a liberal allow- 
 ance is made. He would lay a heavy odds that 
 she is handsome. While he is in the short 
 passage leading from the Bank front door to the 
 stairs, the accountant, having left his pencil 
 in Mr. Hislop^s private room, returns for it. 
 The blotting-pad is lying wide open, and the 
 direction has been clearly impressed. With a 
 very little trouble, Mr. Jardine manages to de- 
 cipher it. He does not remain much longer than 
 to look at the direction and pick up his pencil. 
 
 When Mr. Hislop is once more seated in his 
 room, he draws his table towards him and 
 glances over the writing-case. Like the ac- 
 countant, his eye is attracted by the black 
 direction on the white blotting-pad — 
 "Madame Dawson, 
 
 '' Place, 
 
 " Bays water, 
 
 " London, W\/'
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 171 
 
 he reads. " He said he wrote to his friend,^' 
 he exclaims, settling his thumbs in his waistcoat. 
 " He wrote to the woman. The friend does not 
 exist. I knew he did not from 
 ning.''^ 
 
 the begin-
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HE day has fulfilled tlie most sanguine ex- 
 pectations of its fineness^ which is more 
 than can be said for the generality of earthly an- 
 ticipations. It is nearly two o'clock _, the hour at 
 which Mr. Lefroy lunches and waits for neither 
 man nor woman, be he or she prince or princess. 
 The soup or the entrees might spoil if not served 
 at the exact moment, and to a gourmand like Mr. 
 Lefroy, this misfortune would certainly trouble 
 his dreams or render his pillow a sleepless one. 
 
 About a mile and a half from Lillieshill is an 
 old bridge called the Bridge of Bogg. It is an 
 ancient structure, very narrow, and only ad- 
 mitting of one carriage or cart crossing at the 
 same time. It is built of greystone, and consists 
 of a single pointed arch, having a kelpie's"^ head 
 graven on each side above the date of erection, 
 and the coronet and coat-of-arms of the baron at 
 whose expense it was there placed. 
 
 * A kelpie is a water sprite.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 173 
 
 Near the bridge is a mill^ broad-eaved, 
 thatched roof, and grey with age. Over it 
 some pigeons, with coral feet and glossy breasts, 
 are flying, while others sit on the chimney-top, 
 pluming themselves. The burn, after turning 
 the great black lichen-grown wheel, tumbles 
 precipitously down to the Bogg, the sunbeams 
 glinting into prismatic colours as the water leaps 
 from one wide spoke to another. 
 
 In the doorway stands the miller enveloped in 
 a cloud of dust, wherein the light makes golden 
 ladders : woodbine climbs, trained on lines of 
 string, round the casement window ; a row of 
 gorgeous dwarf sunflowers grow in front, stacks 
 of peat and unhewn pine logs are piled against 
 the wall, close to which a cart is propped up. 
 From the shafts a man, who is talking to the 
 miller, has just unloosened a black Flanders 
 horse ; its mane and tail are carefully plaited 
 and ornamented with gay ribbons. On the 
 threshold a large collie dog, tawny of muzzle 
 and sleek of coat, sleeps in an attitude of perfect 
 ease and repose; hens with variegated feathers 
 and scarlet combs cluck to downy chickens, 
 scratching among the little flower-beds, to the 
 serious injury of the double red daisies and pan- 
 sies : the song of a canary from its cage comes 
 loudly through the unclosed door.
 
 174 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 On the brae-side the broom is out in a glory 
 of living splendour^ extending far up the steep, 
 sandy scour, where pink spikes of foxglove blow 
 and rabbits have their warrens, and martens bore 
 nests, making even the hanging grape-like 
 blossoms of the laburnums pale and faint before 
 the dazzling magnificence of the golden ocean. 
 Tall ash trees, their plumy leaves fresh from the 
 black buds, rear their branches towards heaven 
 wreathed with a tangled network of graceful ivy, 
 silver-barked beeches, gnarled wych elms, and 
 rowans crowned with " blossom-balls^^ of foam 
 meet in wild confusion above ; while down by 
 the clear amber waters of the Bogg, flowing over 
 the russet sandstone rocks, grow bushes of red- 
 and- white dog-roses, clumps of meadow-sweet, 
 cuckoo flowers, and yellow arum lilies. 
 
 In a meadow hard by, cattle graze up to their 
 fetlocks in luxuriant pasturage, sprinkled with 
 fragrant clover and starred with daisies and 
 buttercups. Brown ridges of moorland, which a 
 few months further on will be flushed with 
 purple heather, flanked by belts of woodland and 
 strips of cornfields, and an occasional cottage or 
 farmstead, rise in undulations above the brae. 
 
 Seated on the parapet of the bridge is Thyrza. 
 Her hat is on her lap, and she is fastening some 
 sprays of golden broom in the front of it. Her
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 175 
 
 pony feeds on a juicy bit of grass sticking out 
 from the stones in the bridge, and its reins are 
 thrown over her right arm. She finishes her 
 task, and picking up stone after stone, throws 
 them down into the water, watching the splash 
 they make, and amused by the flop caused by 
 their striking the water. 
 
 A man in a suit of light tweed and a white 
 hat, with a large puggeree placed well on the back 
 of his head, comes slowly down the brae. Be- 
 hind him is a small shaggy dog, long bodied, 
 short legged, a mass of hair like an animated 
 muff. Thyrza, roused from her reverie by the 
 sound of Ferrier^s tread on the dusty road, turns 
 round. 
 
 " Well, mademoiselle, how has the world been 
 using you since I last saw you T^ he asks, sitting 
 down beside her on the mossy rain-worn parapet. 
 
 ^' Oh, very kindly, monsieur,^^ she replies. 
 
 "Does Mark let you ride about the country 
 without an escort ?" 
 
 " No, the groom was with me, but coming 
 home his horse cast a shoe, and he stayed 
 behind at the blacksmith^s to have it put on.^-' 
 
 " And what do you do with yourself all day ?" 
 
 ^^ Nothing but sleep, eat, drink, and so on. 
 Mr. Mark is paintiug a picture of me, and I 
 usually sit for it every morning."
 
 176 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 "You have got on pretty well^ considering 
 you have only been a month at Lillieshill. Is 
 Mark at home ?'' 
 
 " He was not when I set off for my ride, 
 but I should think he will be on my re- 
 turn/' 
 
 "And you like Lillieshill better than the 
 pension .?" 
 
 " Oh; there is no comparison/' 
 
 " But you must have had friends there ! 
 Girls are gregarious ; they always form gushing 
 attachments and write long letters in a thin_, 
 angular hand, all crossed and delightfully ille- 
 gible/' 
 
 " Yes, I had some school friends ; but I don't 
 suppose I shall see any of them again. !My greatest 
 friends were Mr. Spindler, M. Paul the barber, 
 and two dear old toads that lived in the garden. 
 They buried themselves every winter, and came 
 up again in the spring." 
 
 " Interesting objects for pets ! And who was 
 M. Paul ?" 
 
 " He has a shop next door but one to the 
 confectioner's, close to the Flying Dragon. 
 Such a nice old man ! He was very kind to 
 me." 
 
 " You seem to have had a choice selection of 
 acquaintances in Villios ?"
 
 BKOWN AS A BERRY. 177 
 
 '^ Oh, Miss Holt knew lots of people, but she 
 was different from me. M. Paul took me to the 
 theatre/' 
 
 " Tall, thin man ? He cut my hair the day I 
 left Villios/' 
 
 " Yes, tall and thin with no hair on his head — 
 not even one hair. He used to make cosmetics 
 for producing a ^ luxuriant crop / but they 
 never did him any good. Did you ever hear of 
 Egmont ?' 
 
 " No ; who was he ? Was he a relation of 
 the barber's ?" 
 
 '^ A Flemish Count, who was beheaded by the 
 Duke of Alba, in 1568. The play that M. Paul 
 took me to see was about him."" 
 
 " A nd when did you and the barber go to the 
 theatre ?" 
 
 " Last Christmas. Miss Holt went to pay a 
 visit to some friends in Paris, and I was left 
 alone in the pension.'* 
 
 ^' In that great dull house T' 
 " Yes. There was an old woman. Mere 
 PantouflQe, who cooked my dinner and slept in 
 the house at night. Oh, monsieur, I did feel so 
 desolate, and I sat looking out of the music- 
 room window " 
 
 " Out of which you jumped so nicely.'' 
 
 " On to the street," continues Thyrza, heedless 
 
 VOL. 1. 12
 
 178 BKOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 of his interruption, ^^ which was filled with 
 people all in fete dresses. And I was cross with 
 everything. It was so dismal — so dead — so 
 stupid — so stagnant. Just as I was complaining 
 to myself, Mere Pantouffle said some one wanted 
 to speak to me. It was M. Paul." 
 
 " But how came you to be on such friendly 
 terms with him V 
 
 " Why, monsieur, he coiffed Miss Holt^s hair. 
 She used to send me across to his shop with her 
 chignons for him to rearrange when the fashion 
 changed. No one minded. M. Paul said he 
 was going to the theatre, and if I liked he would 
 take me with him. He saw I was dying of 
 ennui by myself, and 1 had known him ever 
 since I lived at Villios. So in the evening he 
 came for me.^^ 
 
 " Was he a married man ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; Madame Paul was a fat little 
 woman, like a roly-poly pudding, with a string 
 tied round the middle to indicate her waist.-'-' 
 
 '^ Had they any sons V 
 
 '' Yes, two. Louis and Victor." 
 
 " Were they of the party too ?" 
 
 " No, they could not come. Louis is in a 
 coiffeur's shop in Paris, and Victor is a commis- 
 voyageur for M. Joachim. What questions you 
 ask, monsieur \"
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 179 
 
 " I merely thought it probable the sons were 
 there also/^ 
 
 " They ^ ere very polite young men, and some- 
 times paid me some pretty compliments/^ 
 
 " Oh, you like the polite way of telling 
 lies r' 
 
 " Yes — at least, I mean I like people who say 
 nice things." 
 
 " Whether they are true or not ?'* 
 
 " Oh, they may occasionally be true, may they 
 not ?" 
 
 '' When you have lived a little longer, you 
 will lind it is not your best friends who pay you 
 the most compliments/'' 
 
 ^' Well, perhaps not. But a word of praise, 
 how it helps one on, and makes one so bright 
 and gay ! Perhaps I should tire of compliments 
 if I were more accustomed to them. One does 
 weary of things after awhile,^'' looking medita- 
 tive and tapping her boot with her silver- 
 mounted riding-whip. 
 
 " I should just think one did V^ says Ferrier. 
 " You see,''' very gravely, " there is nothing 
 new under the sun. And it is even very 
 stale and hackneyed to say there is nothing 
 new. All the inventions, as they are called, 
 have already been in existence since the begin- 
 ning of the world, they are only put into a dif- 
 
 12—2
 
 180 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ferent shape and form. The description of 
 the fast man is as applicable now as it was in 
 Solomon's day. The only difference is_, there 
 was no smoking then. Bnt if they had known 
 the virtue of the weed^ how they would have 
 smoked ! for of course there was a tobacco plant 
 among the other plants and shrubs in the Garden 
 of Eden. But you were telling me about the 
 Yillios barber." 
 
 " Whom you seem to despise.'^ 
 
 '^ No, in general I don't care for the snob- 
 ocracy ; but very likely he was an intelligent 
 man. He must have been if he took you to the 
 theatre. Did you enjoy it?" 
 
 " Oh, ciel ! how beautiful it was \" cried 
 Thyrza, enthusiastically. " All the lights,, and 
 colours, and finely dressed people, and the 
 music." 
 
 '^ What is the story of Egmont ?" asks Terrier, 
 lighting a cigar. 
 
 ^' The first scene is nothing particular. There 
 are soldiers and citizens talking about the 
 Regent and Egmont. Oh, what I liked best 
 was the lovely piece where Egmont conies with 
 his court dress, covered over by a military cloak, 
 to see Clarchen. She was his ' geliebte.' " 
 
 " His what ?" 
 
 ^^ His sweetheart — his true love, you know.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 181 
 
 monsieur/' explains Thyrza. " She is standing 
 in her humble cottage^ just in her peasant''s 
 dress^ and her hair braided down her back in two 
 long pigtails tied with blue ribbons. She is 
 only a peasant, one of the people ; but Egmont 
 is so noble, and feels for them. Clarchen wor- 
 ships him ; and I am not astonished, for he is so 
 grand — like a god. The cottage is dark at first, 
 then the light is turned on fuller, and as 
 Egmont takes ofi" his cloak and stands before 
 Clarchen in all the splendour of his courtier's 
 dress and his manhood^s prime, one feels he is 
 worth loving, not only for his beauty but for his 
 grand mind." 
 
 "And Clarchen ?'' 
 
 " Says the world has no happiness equal to 
 that of being Egmont^s beloved."" 
 
 " Clarchen was not Egmont's wife ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; she was merely a girl whom he 
 loved.^' 
 
 '^That accounts for their affection. If they 
 had been married they would have wrangled 
 and jangled, just like any other respectable 
 married couple." 
 
 " Then the play becomes sad," continues 
 Thyrza. ^' Alba is jealous of Egmont^s renown 
 and plots against him and entraps him. You 
 see him ride up to the Duke^s palace on his
 
 182 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 favourite horse — such a pet ! he dismounts and 
 passes his hand lovingly over its mane. Alba, 
 all the while, is looking on from a window 
 above, and in another moment his generous foe 
 has gone mirthfully, unsuspectingly to his fate. 
 Alba offers Egmont his life if he will change his 
 principles. And Egmont, though so fond of 
 living, will not be saved at the expense of his 
 honour. Poor Clarchen ! She tries to save 
 him, but what can a little peasant girl do ? 
 After she hears the news Egmont is to die, the 
 scene opens in her cottage again. She enters 
 with a lighted lamp in her hand, which, as it is 
 the only light in the theatre, shows out dis- 
 tinctly. But, ah ! what is the use of telling 
 you, monsieur ? You will laugh and say it is 
 foolish sentiment,''^ interrupting herself, and 
 whisking the heads off several unoffending daisies 
 with her whip. 
 
 " I can assure you I am deeply interested, 
 mademoiselle,^^ returns Ferrier. '^ I can guess 
 how the play ends. Egmont, at the last 
 moment, when his head is on the block, escapes. 
 Clarchen and he are married, and live happy 
 ever after.^^ 
 
 '^ No. Well, she places the lamp in the 
 window, to let Brackenburg see she waits for 
 him. He is a burgher and her devoted lover.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 153 
 
 Presently lie comes, and slie hears there is no 
 hope of rescuing Egmont. Then she poisons 
 herself ; and Egmont, as he lies sleeping, sees the 
 spirit of Clarchen holding a crown of laurels 
 over his bead. He goes to die as the sun rises 
 and the dawn spreads over the sky, and the 
 Platz is illumined by its rays. It was splendid V 
 drawing a long breath. 
 
 " What sort of a life can you have had to take 
 so ranch interest in a man who has been dead 
 long ago ?" 
 
 " I have been happy enough. Then after the 
 play we had a grand supper in the back room, 
 where M. Paul and madame make wigs, and 
 plaits, and curls, and cushions for the hair. 
 They send quantities over to London. ■'' 
 
 " You^U spoil your complexion,^' says Ter- 
 rier, abruptly. ^' Why don't you put on your 
 
 hat r 
 
 " Oh, there is no fear of spoiling my com- 
 plexion," she laughs. ^^ It would be impossible 
 to do that. I am so brown already that a little 
 more sunburn does not matter — and then I don't 
 freckle, which is a good thing. Freckles are so 
 
 ugly." 
 
 '^ I am rather partial to freckles," he returns. 
 '^ They are generally the sign of a smooth skin. 
 All young ladies ought to take care of their
 
 184 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 complexion; part of their stock-in-trade^ you 
 know.^' 
 
 ^^ But I am not a young lady/'' 
 
 " What are you then ? A female V 
 
 " Oh, hateful word \" she rejoins, indignantly. 
 
 " Woman, spelt in capitals ? No ? Perhaps 
 you would wish to be termed a young person ? 
 No, again ? Well, I'm blest if I know, and it is 
 too hot to-day to exercise one's brains much,'^ 
 stretching himself along the parapet lazily. 
 " Oh, my prophetic soul, it is hot ! Jove ! 
 You'll not find it very cheerful at Carmylie. 
 There are only the fisher folks in the way of 
 society." 
 
 " But I shall see you, shall I not ?" says she^, 
 naively. 
 
 '^ Why, yes, if it is conducive to your happi- 
 ness, you'll see me pretty often, as we are going 
 to live in the same house for the next year." 
 
 " A year ? — twelve whole months ?" 
 
 " It will soon go, mademoiselle. Are not 
 you sorry that, instead of ' coming out,' as girls 
 generally do at your age, you have got to work ? 
 I daresay you have moaned over the parties and 
 fineries you have lost." 
 
 '^ You see I never knew what they were like, 
 and one cannot miss what one has never had. I 
 was brought up to work, and I am not ashamed of
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 185 
 
 it. There is nothing but what is honourable in 
 work^ and I have got a pair of hands/^ 
 
 " Let^s have a look at this pair of hands that 
 are so able and willing to work/"* 
 
 Thyrza pulls off her gloves^ and Terrier takes 
 her slender fingers into his own broad palm. 
 
 " No rings T' he asked, interrogatively ; ^^ in- 
 deedj no earrings, either ?" 
 
 " No, I don't like them.'' 
 
 "By-and-by, some one will come and put a 
 band of plain gold round this little thifd finger 
 of the left hand, and you will promise to be 
 faithful and true, and will follow his fortunes 
 over the world. So you are going to earn your 
 own livelihood with these morsels of hands ? 
 Why, I could break them to bits. Don't move 
 them away. I have a curiosity to look at 
 them. How brown and sunburned they 
 
 are 
 
 V' 
 
 " Matching my face," she replies, gravely and 
 simply. 
 
 " This is the line of life, here is the line of 
 fortune, and there is the line of intellect. Pro- 
 perly you ought to give the fortune-teller a piece 
 of money to cross your palm with. Have you 
 any with you ?" 
 
 " No, I have none." 
 
 '^ This will do as well/' feeling in his pocket
 
 186 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 for a sovereign among some loose coins. Tlien 
 he crosses her hand with the gold^ Thyrza not 
 laughing or giggling, but looking on very quietly 
 and calmly. 
 
 " Monsieur, move the pony^s head. He is 
 going to eat my flowers. I think some time or 
 other I should like to be a nurse in a hospital. 
 Madame Paul took me over the hospital of S. 
 Sulpice at Villios. The Sisters of Charity had 
 such calm, quiet, holy faces, with no earthly 
 passions imprinted on them. When — oh, mon- 
 sieur, what are you doing to my hands T' 
 
 " Reading your fortune from the lines. Go 
 on, mademoiselle. When '^ 
 
 " When I am tired of the world, I shall go 
 there, I think. ''^ 
 
 ^' And give Heaven the dregs of your life, after 
 the freshness and innocence have been rubbed 
 off. A real woman^s creed that — coquette 
 while that amusement can be practised, then 
 devote for the rest of the time. But you were 
 never fitted for S. Sulpice. To begin with, you 
 would have all the fellows breaking their legs 
 and arms to be nursed by you, of which little 
 game the good Sisters would not approve, and 
 you would be continually in hot water : you 
 were meant to be a man^s companion, and not 
 to go through life single file."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 187 
 
 ^' If I was loved as Egmont loved Clarclien, 
 I should not mind any amount of suffering 
 afterwards/' 
 
 " That is to say^ for a few hours of perfect 
 happiness^ you would endure a life of misery. A 
 dangerous idea for a man ; a doubly dangerous 
 one for a woman. There, mademoiselle/'' relin- 
 quishing her hands, " I read long life and mo- 
 derate fortune. DonH have that foolish notion 
 any longer in your mind. There is one law for 
 the man by which he always comes off scot 
 free, and another for the woman by which she 
 is without fail condemned. That thought of 
 yours is precisely what leads people to the 
 bad.'' 
 
 " To the bad ?" she inquires. 
 
 " Don't you understand me ? It signifies 
 betting and racing, and gambling, and spending 
 money on everything we ought not to spend it 
 on, generally winding up with not a penny 
 to bless oneself with, and a ruined constitution." 
 
 " Did you ever do that, monsieur ?" 
 
 " Well^ there are not many things I have not 
 had a try at in my time, and I wish now I had 
 let a few of them alone." 
 
 " Ah, but what would it signify if I went to 
 the bad ?" says she, defiantly. " Who would 
 cry for me^ or put on mourning if I died to-
 
 188 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 morrow ? I am of as mucli importance in the 
 world as this spray of mountain-ash flower/^ 
 rising and throwing into the river a tuft of 
 rowan blossoms. 
 
 " You don^t know what you are talking 
 about/'' returns Ferrier. ^^ It is absurd to say it 
 would not matter. I^ for one^ should be sorry 
 to see a girl like you — I don^t say a nice girl, but 
 simply a girl like you — spoil her future^ when it 
 lies with herself to make it a prosperous one.''"' 
 
 He is careful not to praise^ nor to flatter^ nor 
 to compliment her in any one way^ as she stands 
 leaning over the broad low parapet, her hat in 
 her hand, the dark blue habit falling in graceful 
 curves round her slim ligure, her face and eyes 
 glowing with life, looking pretty enough in the 
 wavering tesselated lights and shadows to have 
 tempted S. Anthony himself to forswear celi- 
 bacy and his hermit^s cell. There is a long 
 pause ; Thyzra is silent. The lowing of the oxen; 
 the hum of insect life ; the chirping of the birds ; 
 the roar of the river from the rough waters, make 
 music on the ear in the sultry hush of the sun- 
 steeped, hot midsummer day. There is not a 
 breath of air stirring : the wind is too lazy to 
 waft the perfume of the meadow down from the 
 opposite side of the stream, or break the rain- 
 bow tinted foam bubbles at the sandy margin
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 189 
 
 by the arum lilies. The vspray of rowan flower 
 floats like a feather in mid-air_, hovering gently 
 above the bog, by the grim grey kelpie^s head, 
 in whose grinning month a fern has taken root 
 and is growing luxuriantly ; then it slowly de- 
 scends on to the water's surface, where it is 
 caught by contrary currents from sundry tiny 
 cascades of mountain burns, running down the 
 red sandstone rocks to the river from the hills. 
 It sails along smoothly under the shadow of 
 the ivy-clad trees, gets into trouble and threatens 
 to be swamped when the bed becomes rough and 
 rocky, almost becalmed by a shelving promon- 
 tory, is righted by a faint pufi" of wind, and 
 finally is borne peacefully and tranquilly out of 
 sight upon the bosom of a deep pool. 
 
 " The poor little tempest-tossed bark has got 
 safely into port,'''' says Terrier, at length. " I 
 watched it with some anxiety." 
 
 " Monsieur, what time is it, please V she 
 asks, somewhat sharply. 
 
 " Not quite three o'clock." 
 
 ^^ I must go back to Lillieshill now." 
 
 " I am going there too." 
 
 " There is a short way by a path along the 
 river side. It is impossible for monsieur to 
 miss it." 
 
 " I intend to accompany mademoiselle on the
 
 190 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 road to Lillicsliill. Did you want to get rid of 
 
 " I thought monsieur was tired of my society/'' 
 says she, candidly, '' so do not come out of civility 
 to me. I can go home by myself/' 
 
 " It suits me better to walk with you/^ he 
 returns, quietly. " How about mounting ? Will 
 the pony stand while I put you up T' 
 
 '' I don't think he will. But if you will hold 
 his head I will get on myself.^'' 
 
 Terrier brings the pony closer to the parapet, 
 on which Thy rz a, her habit gathered round her, 
 is standing. She runs along a few yards, and is 
 preparing to give a jump of delight, when Terrier 
 drags her down by both wrists, and catching her 
 in his arms, lifts her bodily on to the pony. 
 
 " Are you mad V he cries, grasping the reins, 
 while Thryza hits June Rose sharply on the off 
 flank, making the half- thoroughbred mare rear 
 and plunge. " I never saw such insensate folly. 
 Perhaps you think it fine and spirited to show 
 off like that r' 
 
 " Monsieur, you have taken an unpardonable 
 liberty ,'' she says, with flashing eyes. 
 
 " You took an unpardonable liberty with your- 
 self. One step backwards and you would have 
 been killed. It made me giddy to look at you,
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 191 
 
 and if you had fallen over^ I should have been 
 had up for manslaughter/' 
 
 " Pouf V rejoins Thyrza, with a gay laugh. 
 '^ And if it had been^ it is only death at the 
 worst. A hundred years hence, when two or 
 three old bones are all that remain of me, it will 
 not matter whether I broke my neck or lived to 
 threescore and ten. It is all the same in the 
 end. One must die sooner or later. Only I 
 should like to enjoy myself, and have a little fun 
 first.'' 
 
 Terrier slackens the reins, and she and he 
 go up the hill together towards Lillieshill, the 
 small terrier trotting behind them.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DON^T like to hear you talk in that fool- 
 hardy way/^ resumes Terrier^ when they 
 have climbed the brae^ and are upon the high 
 road. " It is — how shall I say it ? — not proper 
 conversation for a young lady.^^ 
 
 " That is just why I hate being a girl/^ returns 
 Thyrza. ^' If I had been a man I should not 
 have been bothered about the proprieties, and 
 sitting up pretty all day long, and behaving 
 myself like a young lady." The last words she 
 pronounces with intense disgust. ^' Bah ! If I 
 had been a man I could have gone into com- 
 merce abroad.^^ 
 
 " I might have taken you out to China with 
 me as a clerk. What a pity you are not a boy !" 
 
 " Is it not ? I suppose it would not do to 
 dress up in man^s clothes and cut my hair short ? 
 No one would ever find it out.'' 
 
 " No, hardly," says Ferrier, biting the corners
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 193 
 
 of his lips to restrain his laughter. What an 
 innocent little thing she is, unless she puts it 
 on ; if she does_, it certainly does credit to her 
 stage powers. " Well, go in for being a lady 
 medical — Dr. Thyrza Rutherfurd, M.D. ! How 
 ■would that sound ? Ah ! I forgot. You have 
 no nerve. If you could not help me to bandage 
 the Italian lad^s head, how would you face the 
 dissecting rooms ? But, of course, you will 
 marry. Have you ever thought about that ?^^ 
 
 " Occasionally, monsieur. But I don^t think 
 I shall. The person I liked might not care for 
 me, and I would never marry unless I was very 
 fond of the man. Besides, who would marry a 
 plain penniless girl like me ?^^ 
 
 " Ah, to be sure, it is not probable. Money 
 and beauty are such essentials. What do you 
 mean by ' being fond ' of a person V — giving a 
 look of admiration in spite of himself at the 
 outlines of Thyrza^s figure, showing clear against 
 the brilliant blue sky. 
 
 " Oh ! loving with heart and soul, better 
 than everyone and everything else in the world." 
 
 " Charming in theory, the reverse in practice. 
 For how long T^ 
 
 '* For ever." 
 
 '' What is your definition of ' for ever.' Until 
 next month ?" 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 '' No, all one's life/' 
 
 "What would you do for a person you loved? 
 Cut off your hair ? I know you are proud of it. 
 The Chinese mandarin with the red ball would 
 make it into a famous pigtail/"* 
 
 ^'^ Cut off my hair V she repeats, scornfully ; 
 '^ I would cut off my foot if it were necessary." 
 
 " You might find it inconvenient to go through 
 life with only one foot. Your hair, teeth, com- 
 plexion, youth, are so many valuable articles in 
 the marriage market ; as you lose them, your 
 value decreases. But could you put up with 
 the vagaries and fads of a jealous person T' 
 
 " If he loved me, and I loved him, yes/' 
 
 " How do you know the person would be he ? 
 It might be an old maid with the orthodox 
 cat/' 
 
 " I took it for granted." 
 
 " Mademoiselle Thyrza, I pity you !" says 
 Ferrier. 
 
 " Why ?" she asks, astonished. 
 
 " You are so completely devoid of common 
 sense and prudence. Your head is stuffed full 
 of romance and sentiment. Common sense is a 
 better gift than genius; with it, and tact as 
 ballast, you will get along easily. Love, such as 
 you describe it, does not exist ; it is an exploded 
 notion. Two asses — don't be offended — two de-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 195 
 
 luded asses swearing vows to adore each otlier to 
 all eternity, belong to a past generation." 
 
 " It was a much nicer one_, monsieur." 
 
 " No, we are far wiser. Love now-a-days is 
 resolvable into the amount of pounds, shillings 
 and pence a man or woman is prepared to bid 
 in exchange for a bundle of silk, frivolity, sim- 
 pering nothingness, false hair, rouge, pearl-powder 
 and feminine spite, or conglomeration of Poolers 
 clothes, ambition, vanity, which go to make up a 
 belle or dandy of the first water. If a little 
 genuine liking can be thrown into the bargain, 
 all the better." 
 
 " If I don^t meet my ideal, I shall never 
 marry." 
 
 " You are worse off than the bundle of silk ; 
 for you seem to have ideas of your own." 
 
 " I wish I could do as I liked." 
 
 " Well, suppose you can, let me hear the 
 result." 
 
 " Make myself very pretty." 
 
 " Oh, come now, you don't expect me to 
 believe you think yourself ugly. It^'s a nice 
 opportunity for paying a compliment ; but I 
 never pay compliments." 
 
 " That must be as you like, monsieur. I 
 should have golden hair and blue eyes " 
 
 ''And a complexion like the wax model in a 
 
 13—2
 
 196 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 barber^s shop. I abominate fair women. They 
 are generally vicious,, with vile tempers^ and 
 either become dried up and shrivelled after 
 thirty, or else inordinately stout.^^ 
 
 '^ Monsieur admires dark people then ?" 
 
 '' I admire a pretty fair woman and a pretty 
 dark woman; it^s all the same to me, as long as 
 they are good-looking. I don^t object to some- 
 thing rich and dark'' glancing at Thyrza^s 
 pomegranate cheeks ;^" but most of all I admire 
 a sensible woman .'^ 
 
 ^< Why ?" 
 
 ^^ Because they are so seldom seen.^' 
 
 " Oh, I should like to do something really 
 worth doing." 
 
 '^ Much better cultivate the art of dressing 
 and restrain your imagination. It never pays. 
 Allow me to follow out your theory of love in a 
 cottage. How would you like to bring up a 
 large family on next to nothing ? Think of the 
 realities ; maid-of-all-work in shoes down at 
 heels and slatternly gown ; continual smell of 
 soapsuds about the house ; children in chronic 
 state of toothache : I think you would then 
 prefer love in the ahstract, as the discreet 
 Edinburgh damsel said. 
 
 '^ I am glad I am not your wife," exclaims
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 197 
 
 Thyrza, " but if slie had any of your favourite 
 quality, common sense, she would keep you in 
 order/' 
 
 " Are you ?" says Terrier, much amused. 
 " But don't distress yourself on my account. I 
 shall never have a wife for two reasons. I don't 
 believe in women, and if I did, I can't afford to 
 marry. But if you were my wife, you would be 
 a good little thing, and sew on my shirt buttons, 
 and fill my pipe with tobacco if I were too tired 
 or too lazy to do it for myself."" 
 
 " Not 1" says Thyrza, tossing her head. " I 
 should do nothing of the kind. I should cut 
 holes in your stockings, and leave you to stitch 
 them up yourself.'^ 
 
 " No, you would not," persists Terrier, find- 
 ing it impossible to resist laughing : — the more 
 he laughs, the glummer Thyrza looks — " al- 
 though that is what we are coming to; but it 
 wont be quite in my day. Now, mademoiselle, 
 ni prove to you in three words that if you and 
 I were husband and wife you would do exactly 
 what I told you. Please to suppose for a 
 minute that we are married and are Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ferrier. Did not you say a moment ago 
 that you would marry no one unless you loved 
 him, heart and soul V
 
 198 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Well, yes, monsieur/' answers Thyrza, 
 hesitatingly, unable to deny her own assertion. 
 
 " And that if you loved him you would do 
 anything for him — would not even stick at cut- 
 ting off hair or foot, if necessary ? Conse- 
 quently, if you married me you would love me 
 intensely, and if you would perform such heroic 
 and out-of-the-way actions, you could not refuse 
 the little commonplace ones I have mentioned/' 
 
 "Mais, monsieur '' 
 
 " I will give you an example of what it would 
 be. If we were married, I should call you 
 Thyrza and you would call me Jack/' 
 
 '' Mais oui, c'est vrai. Monsieur Jacques. 
 Well, it is a fact ; looking at it, of course, in 
 the light monsieur suggests." 
 
 " Of course," says Ferrier, " in the imaginary 
 light. But if you were Mrs. Ferrier you would 
 not say monsieur, but simply Jack. Confound 
 that dog Wasp, he's always up to some mis- 
 chief !" 
 
 Wasp, seeing one of his detested and arch 
 enemies — a cat — bolts after it across the road 
 into a cottage, upsetting two fat children in his 
 excited movements, who immediately set up a 
 direful squall. He stumbles up against an old 
 woman engaged in the occupation of winding ^ir«5> 
 and stands on the very points of his hind heels
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 199 
 
 barking and growling, with every hair on his 
 body quivering with emotion and exasperation, 
 while the cat has taken refuge on the mantel- 
 shelf, having knocked down an image of the 
 Duke of Wellington in china, on a fearfully 
 and wonderfully prancing horse, which is thereby 
 smashed to atoms. Out comes the old woman 
 in white mutch, red and black checked shawl 
 crossed over her chest, and grey linsey woolsey 
 petticoat, to the door, picks up the unlucky 
 infants, bestowing hearty cuffs upon them by 
 way of cheering them a little, and pours forth 
 a volley of abuse at Terrier in the very broadest 
 Lowland Scotch, which is complete gibberish to 
 both Thyrza and himself. From within pro- 
 ceed sounds of snarls and growls ; the cat is 
 spitting and swearing ad libitum ; Wasp has got 
 on the top of the chest of drawers and is within 
 an ace of touching the cat^s whiskers. It is a 
 stupendous moment of excitement for Wasp ; but 
 just as he makes a snap at puss, which she 
 eatfuUy parries by a vicious dab at his black 
 nose. Terrier brings his triumph to an untimely 
 end, by catching him and lifting him down by 
 the scruff of his neck. It is a primitive little 
 cottage of two rooms, a but and a ben, contain- 
 ing dark, close box-beds. The floor is earthen, 
 without any pretence at boards ; some flaring
 
 200 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Scripture prints and cheap valentines hang over 
 the mantelpiece ; bannocks are baking on a 
 girdle over a peat fire ; the rafters are filled 
 with newspapers ; bags of onions ; fishing-rods ; 
 a couple of guns_, and besides seem appa- 
 rently to be the receptacles for the family- 
 clothing. A cuckoo-clock ticks away in one 
 corner^ its hands creeping slowly over its old^ 
 faded, painted face^ and a big Bible in a print 
 cover is on the window-sill. The spinning-wheel, 
 at which the woman was workings stands at the 
 fireside^ and a box of pirns or large reels of yarn 
 lies on the floor. 
 
 "What is your name?^^ asks Ferrier^, as she 
 is obliged to draw to a close from sheer want of 
 breath. 
 
 " Margaret Gow/^ is the reply. 
 
 "Wellj here's half-a-crown for you," says 
 Ferrier. " On whose property do you live ?" 
 
 " Carmylie/^ she returns^ considerably pacified. 
 " And it's a sair job I hae to gaither the baw- 
 bees till the rent, and that's true, sir. This is 
 an awfu' uncanny hoose, and sic cauld winds i^ 
 the winter, and me sic troubled wi' the rheu- 
 matics and near dead wi' the teeth ache/'' 
 
 " Well, 1^11 think over what can be done about 
 giving you a better floor." 
 
 " The lord keep me ! and will you be the new
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 201 
 
 Laird of Carmylie ? Preserve us a,\ and me 
 gieing you yer kail through the reek that gait. 
 He's a bonny bit beast that/'' endeavouring to 
 pat Waspj who is delivering certain parting 
 growls of defiance,, and scratching up the dust 
 with his feet. But Wasp refuses the overtures 
 of peacCj and keeps close at Ferrier's heels. As 
 they move away the man who unloosened the 
 horse from the cart at the bridge appears with 
 the said cart and draws up at Gow's cottage. 
 He is a tall, powerfully built man, six feet two 
 or three in height, with shoulders like those of 
 a Hercules ; his face is slightly marked with 
 small-pox, and he has the peculiarity of only 
 possessing one arm. 
 
 " I believe that fellow is one of the biggest 
 poachers for miles round,'' exclaims Terrier. 
 " I never knew his name before, but I suspect he 
 is the son of that delightful Margaret Gow, and 
 those are his wife and children welcoming him 
 home. How he gets his living is a mystery to 
 me ; chiefly by eating his neighbour's game, 
 I am told." 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Ferrier," continues Jack, " where 
 did I leave off in our little conversation ? You 
 must try to think that we are married, and living, 
 shall we say in London? I am in business and 
 come home at night, done up with the day's
 
 202 * BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 work. After dinner I sav, Thyrza dear_, will 
 you hand me the tobacco ? I am sure you would 
 not refuse. Any one whom you love would be 
 your master. Can you love intensely 1" laying 
 his hand on the reins of the pony and stopping 
 it. 
 
 " No, monsieur, I don't believe I could/' she 
 answers saucily. *' I shall leave that for the man 
 to do." 
 
 " Oh_, you story-telling girl, when you have 
 been admiring the devotion of Clarchen for 
 Egmont ! That's the way with you, is it — say 
 one thing and believe another ? But there, 
 mademoiselle, I wish you a better fate than to 
 marry a man like me. I'll tell you what ; take 
 my advice and go in for an eligible. You are 
 coming to our place. I'll ask a few down in the 
 autumn for you to choose from." 
 
 " I shan't go in for anyone," replies Thyrza. 
 " If they like to go in for me all well and good." 
 
 " There spoke sweet seventeen. At that 
 period you say, who shall I have ? When you 
 are thirty-seven instead of seventeen, you will 
 wish you had gone in for the eligibles." 
 
 ^' Never : better be an old maid a hundred 
 thousand times over than lose one's self-respect 
 by marrying a man whom one did not love." 
 
 " You will find self-respect a poor substitute
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 203 
 
 for the support of a husband^s affection wlieu all 
 your friends and schoolfellows have settled down 
 comfortable in the world with their families^ and 
 you are necessary to the happiness of no one. 
 A woman, at least a nice-minded woman, lives 
 chiefly in her affections. It is all very well to 
 hold those opinions in the bloom and spring- 
 time of your life. You should listen to 
 the experiences of a grey-headed man like 
 me.^^ 
 
 " Oh, bother the future V says Thyrza, smil- 
 ing ; her dark face dimpling with pleasure. 
 " Perhaps I shan^t live to be old and ugly. I am 
 sure I shall be a hideous old woman, dark persons 
 do not make such pretty old people as fair ones 
 do. That is another advantage men have ; their 
 looks don^t signify at all.^^ 
 
 " Consolation for me," returns Terrier, " If 
 I had a wife she should be a calm dignified 
 woman of unruffled demeanour ; exquisitely beau- 
 tiful, that is a sine qua non ; she must know the 
 price of everything ; be accomplished ; always 
 know the right thing ; be an angel of amiability ; 
 always well dressed," with a mischievous 
 glance at Thyrza^s collar, which is, as usual, 
 crooked. 
 
 '' Monsieur desires perfection." 
 
 " Yes, that is why I shall never marry. My
 
 204 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 bea-u ideal is not in the flesh. But^ after all, 
 there^s nothing equal to a faithful friend — 
 
 " And, of all best things upon earth, I hold that a 
 faithful friend is the best. 
 For woman. Will, is a thorny flower ; it breaks, and 
 we bleed and smart." 
 
 Do you know the rest_, mademoiselle T' 
 
 ^^ Monsieur quoting poetry?" asks Thyrza, 
 in surprise. 
 
 " A slip of the tongue, lapsus lingnce, as it 
 used to say in the old Eton grammar." 
 
 " We turn in here," says Thyrza, pausing at a 
 newly painted green gate, and trim lodge built 
 in imitation of a Swiss chalet, with balconies 
 running round the front, and lattice windows 
 designed more for their picturesque appearance 
 than the purpose of admitting light and air into 
 the dwelling. 
 
 " Seriously," pursues Terrier, '^ you should 
 cultivate Mark. He is a real good fellow as 
 ever stepped the ground, sound in all points, and 
 free from vice. He does not even smoke too 
 much.^' 
 
 Thyrza shakes her head. " I am a born old 
 maid." 
 
 " I have found you out, mademoiselle." 
 
 " How ? "
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 205 
 
 " You talk for effect.'' 
 
 " It was rather fun to shock you by making 
 you think I was fast/' she replies, " you did look 
 so scandalized and horrified. I used to delight 
 in telling Miss Holt all sorts of things. But 
 here are Mr. Mark and Mr. Lefroy. If you 
 want to win Mr. Lefroy's heart, praise the lodge 
 and say you noticed the elegant contrivance of 
 the pivot on which the hinge of the gate turns. 
 It is ^ entirely his own design.' " 
 
 "Well, Jack, glad to see you again. So you 
 have come at last/' says Mark, shaking hands 
 heartily with Ferrier. " I began to think that 
 you had stuck in the middle of the Suez Canal." 
 
 " I am very glad to be back in England too. 
 I should have been home sooner had it not been 
 that the engines of the steamer got out of order. 
 But I had a nice little continental tour and took 
 it easy." 
 
 " How long have you been travelling alto- 
 gether ?" asks Mr. Lefroy. 
 
 " Nearly four months ; but then the vessel 
 broke down, and we were a number of weeks in 
 Bombay, besides my trip through Italy and 
 France/' 
 
 " Did you walk from Carmylie ? It must 
 have been warm work." 
 
 " Well, rather. I lost my way half a dozen
 
 206 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 times by taking wrong turnings at cross-roads. 
 Are there no sign-posts in Scotland ?''^ 
 
 " Not in the neighbourliood of Lillieshill.^^ 
 
 " We have only two lumbering carriage horses 
 at Carmylie, which the man and general help 
 informed me were engaged in some carting about 
 the fields. There remaining only an old pony, I 
 preferred walking to breaking my neck. Good 
 people are scarce, you know.^^ 
 
 " Just so/' says Mr. Lefroy. 
 
 " How did the ponies I bought for you in 
 London turn out, Mark?'^ 
 
 " Let me give you a word of warning, Mr» 
 Terrier.'''' 
 
 " Yes ?'■' inquires Ferrier of Mr. Lefroy. 
 
 " Never be the person to buy a horse for a 
 friend, and never commission a friend to buy one 
 for you. It's never safe.'^ 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know about that,'^ breaks in 
 Mark, ^^ it may do very well as a general rule, 
 but it does not apply to Ferrier and me." 
 
 " That's a nicish animal Mademoiselle is on,^' 
 observes Ferrier, examining its fetlocks, with the 
 light coming into his eyes, which is only seen in 
 an Englishman's when looking at a particularly 
 choice specimen of horse flesh, "would make a 
 good lady's hunter," 
 
 " YeSj wouldn't it ?" replies Mark, pleased at
 
 BKOWN AS A BEREY. 207 
 
 Ferrier's approbation. Few things gratify a 
 man more than to praise his judgment regarding 
 horses. 
 
 " YouVe picked up riding rather quickly, 
 mademoiselle/^ says Ferrier, with a critical glance 
 at Thyrza^s easy seat. 
 
 "Yesj thanks to Mr. Mark. It has been 
 such a treat. I never knew what living meant 
 until I rode June Rose." 
 
 '' You must have been pretty well employed, 
 what with painting and riding.'^ 
 
 "We had nothing else to do, had we, Miss 
 Thyrza? I feel like a fish out of water without 
 my business to attend to, and read the money 
 market list in the papers just out of sheer force 
 of habit. Nice clean high action, has she not?^"* 
 
 " Yes, steps out well, and lifts her feet cleverly 
 from the ground.^^ 
 
 " I see you are a chip of the old block, Mr. 
 Ferrier," pursues Mr. Lefroy. *^ There was 
 nothing Mr. Ferrier of Carmylie liked better 
 than to look over a lot of horses." 
 
 " Ah, yes," responds Jack, " the poor old 
 governor had a good eye for a horse." 
 
 " WeU, Mr. Ferrier, Luke and I were going 
 to have a look at the cattle before you came. I 
 dare say you don't trouble yourself about any- 
 thing in the agricultural line, or else it would
 
 208 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 give me great pleasure to show you my model 
 cowhouse/'' 
 
 " By-the-by, Miss Thyrza, would you like to 
 dismount now ? I^]l take June Rose to the 
 stables for you as Smith is not here/'' 
 
 Thyrza gives her horse to Mark, and Terrier 
 having no objection to urge, Mr. Lefroy leads 
 the way to his pet hobby, after a brief delay, 
 occasioned by the absence of Mark. 
 
 The situation of the model cowhouse has been 
 carefully chosen ; it is on a dry sheltered spot, 
 facing the south. The material used for building 
 is brick ; the roof is of variegated coloured slates. 
 The windows are lancet-shaped, like those of a 
 church or chapel, for which the cowhouse has occa- 
 sionally been mistaken, and they are of stained 
 glass. The walls are painted pink, with ventilators 
 in the ceiling. Pipes put all round provide for 
 heating the place in the winter, and the fittings 
 are of polished pine wood. The animals are 
 perfect of their sort ; gazelle-eyed Alderney cows, 
 almost as graceful in their proportions as deer ; 
 sleek, hornless, ^'^ Angus doddieSj" Ayrshire^ and 
 other varieties. The cattle intended for the 
 forthcoming agricultural show in England are in 
 another division of the building ; they are all of 
 one kind, the black Angus. 
 
 "That fellow there/^ says Mr. Lefroy, indi-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY, 209 
 
 eating a noble young bull, black as night, with 
 fiery eyes, beginning to show signs of restlessness 
 at the presence of strangers, " is going up to Bat- 
 tersea by-and-by. He will have his coat laid in 
 butter-milk for a fortnight beforehand, and will 
 travel in a padded carriage, with two men to 
 look after him." 
 
 '' He is a beauty and no mistake," answers 
 Jack, feeling called upon to make some observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " I am always remarkably brave when there 
 is a barrier between myself and the danger," 
 says Mark, laughing, while Mr. Lefroy is engaged 
 in showing the good points and breeding of the 
 animal, and relating how he made more than 
 two hundred pounds in prize money the year 
 before. 
 
 " I remember," remarks Terrier — '' I remember 
 reading an account in the English newspapers 
 some years ago of the rinderpest, which devas- 
 tated the country. Did you lose any cattle 
 then?" 
 
 '^ No, curiously enough, I never lost one." 
 
 *^ You were more fortunate then than most 
 people. What do you think your exemption 
 was owing to ?" 
 
 '^ I never allowed any stranger to enter the 
 cowhouse. Indeed, if her Majesty Queen Yic- 
 
 VOL, I. 14
 
 210 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 toria herself had begged me to allow her^ I 
 should have said^ that though as loyal a subject 
 as her Majesty possesses^ I could not consent to 
 her entrance. Then I kept up the system of 
 the cattle ; gave them oilcake and the best of 
 food^ while my neighbours weakened the con- 
 stitution of theirs by arsenicum and other dis- 
 infecting stuff. An acquaintance of mine who 
 reared the best Angus cattle I ever saw — ex- 
 cepting my own — built a hospital in readiness 
 and doctored the poor animals ; he lost every 
 head, and he took it so to heart that he was 
 never the same man afterwards. A small farmer 
 close by where he lived made no attempt at any 
 precautions, and like myself never had a single 
 animal attacked by the disease. Remarkable,, 
 very, was it not?^^ 
 
 " Very remarkable !" responds Jack. " That 
 fellow looks as though he had a little temper of 
 his own/^ 
 
 '^ Oh, not in the least, I assure you,"*^ says Mr. 
 Lefroy, gazing with the rapt eyes of a fond lover 
 at the black Angus. " Jupiter is mild as a 
 lamb. He is too fat to be ill-natured. Come, 
 Jupiter, look up, there^s a pretty dear, and let 
 Miss Rutherfurd pat you." 
 
 In testimony of his meek qualities, Jupiter 
 puts his head between his knees, and lashes his
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 211 
 
 sides witli his tail,, giving a tremendous roar, and 
 endeavours to paw the ground but is unable to 
 make much of this, the floor being paved with 
 encaustic tiles. 
 
 *• Well, Mr. Terrier/' observes Mr. Lefroy 
 complacently, regarding the cowhouse, which has 
 cost him a long way over the tidy sum of a 
 thousand pounds, with its pointed pepper-box 
 turrets and its Gothic windows, " I do not say 
 it ostentatiously or presumptuously, but my cow- 
 house is the best in the three kingdoms ; " and, 
 after a brief pause, he adds, with a sigh of 
 perfect, unalloyed bliss, his cup of happiness being 
 filled to the brim, ^^ there is no doubt about it.'' 
 
 " No one can dispute that,-" says Mark. 
 ^^ Come now. Jack, we will go down to the house. 
 You must want pulling together, and I can give 
 uncle's sherry a good character. It has been to 
 India and back to season it." 
 
 " Ah, you'll not beat my sherry in all Scotland, 
 Mr. Ferrier. You had better bring the dog with 
 you into the drawing-room. I have just had the 
 place newly painted from top to toe, and if you 
 leave him outside he'll scrape all the paint off 
 the door," chimes in Mr. Lefroy, who is always 
 ready to sing his own praises, and though one of 
 the vainest, is also one of the best tempered of 
 men. 
 
 14—2
 
 212 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Lillieshill is looking its best when tliey reach 
 the front door ; the warm sunshine gilding the 
 old house and its " ivy-green ;''■' the close shaven 
 velvet lawn, studded with flower-beds of scarlet 
 geraniums, yellow calceolarias, blue lobelias, and 
 verbenas, and ribbon-borders of every tint, all 
 out in the most brilliant bloom, while some 
 peacocks strut along, spreading out their iris- 
 hued tails like fans for the admiration, according 
 to the Darwinian theory, of their assembled 
 partners and families. 
 
 Afternoon tea is set out on a small three- 
 legged table in the conservatory, into which Mr. 
 Lefroy escorts Ferrier, through a door opening 
 on the lawn, for the express convenience, Mr. 
 Lefroy declares, of burglars and other light- 
 fingered members of society. 
 
 " Thyrza dear, will you pour out tea ?^^ asks 
 Miss Lefroy. ^' I feel rather tired with my 
 morning wanderings.''^ 
 
 Thyrza at once complies, and Mark makes 
 himself serviceable in handing the cups. As he 
 stands beside Thyrza by a tall New Zealand fern 
 under an arch of crimson Virginia-creeper hang- 
 ing in thick flowers and curving tendrils. Jack 
 thinks what a well-matched couple they are ; he 
 fair and she dark. A good contrast to each 
 other, and Mark is just the right age for Thyrza.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 213 
 
 Mark, it is true, is older than Jack by some 
 three or four years, but Terrier always feels con- 
 siderably the elder of the two. 
 
 Jack regards his friend almost tenderly ; his 
 true and faithful friend after the lapse of many 
 years, from boyhood to manhood; no change in 
 the steady real affection which has grown up 
 with time to be solid and enduring as the beauti- 
 ful friendship of David and Jonathan. He 
 knows that whatever trouble or evil hours may 
 come upon him there will always be a warm 
 corner in Luke Mark's heart for Jack Ferrier ; 
 he knows that though the whole world should 
 turn against him, this friend will always welcome 
 him, believe in him, swear to his honour and to 
 his truth, and put complete and absolute trust in 
 him. All else may turn to gall and bitterness ; 
 all else change ; all else forsake him, yet Mark, 
 the companion of his schoolboy pleasures and 
 escapades, of his shooting expeditions for big 
 game up the country in China; of his business 
 speculations in Shanghai, will cleave to him : 
 will — should occasion require such assistance — 
 spend his last pound to help him out of his 
 difficulty. Jack is certain of all this, for he has 
 proved it. He has not a thought but what is 
 shared with Mark ; there is nothing underhand 
 about Jack. Sooner than ^' keep things dark/'
 
 214 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 or live like Damocles with a sword hanging over 
 his head, he would endure any pain^ however 
 severe it might be at the time, and plain-speaking 
 is one of the attributes which has often made 
 him eremies and got him into trouble. Mark 
 he considers fantastic in many of his notions : 
 was it not peculiar for a young man of three 
 and twenty to adopt an orphan as Mark had 
 done? Most men of that age prefer to spend 
 their money in wild oats and upon themselves. 
 But then it was one of Mark's fancies, which 
 expression to Terrier, who imagines he knows 
 every shade and turn of Luke's face and character, 
 accounts for any outbreak. From the first he had, 
 so to speak, looked after Mark. If Luke got 
 into scrapes at school. Jack most frequently bore 
 the blame; if Mark had an imposition to write. 
 Jack usually wrote the greater part, and read the 
 remainder aloud for Mark's benefit. If Jack 
 had a " grub-box " from home — they were like 
 angels' visits, few and far between, for Jack was 
 little thought of save as a tiresome lad who must 
 be clothed and fed — Mark got the lion's share. 
 Jack fought Mark's battles for him, punched the 
 heads of those who attempted to tyrannize over 
 the somewhat weakly and delicate boy, and was 
 rarely without the ornament of a black eye> 
 gained in Mark's defence. Mark, on his part.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 215 
 
 spoiled by his indulgent uncle and aunt at 
 Lillieshill, made much of and adored at every 
 turn, took all Jack''s services as his right and 
 a matter of course. He munched Jack^s tarts 
 and spent his sixpences right royally ; next to 
 his mother, Terrier was most deeply attached to 
 Mark. When they grew up and went out to 
 Shanghai, the younger, still as formerly, appa- 
 rently led, and in reality got the roughest of the 
 work. Mark did not desire to give dross in 
 exchange for gold, which is, ah ! such a common 
 bargain; his purse is always open to Jack if 
 he wishes, and he values Ferrier^s good opinion 
 more than that of any other living man. Jack^s 
 standard of right and wrong is that to which 
 Mark pins his faith and swears by. He has only 
 one secret from Jack, and that one is the exis- 
 tence of Lilith Mark. If Jack knew of the 
 deception that has been practised on him by his 
 most intimate friend for years : if he guessed 
 that Lilith was Mark's wife, away would go all 
 their friendship, all the pleasant hours they had 
 spent over their pipes and B, and S.'s; there 
 would be no more fishing, and shooting, and 
 riding together. Jack would never forgive the 
 fraud ; over and over again Mark has heard 
 him say he could forgive anything excepting 
 meanness and deceit ; he would simply not
 
 216 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 speak to him again, and -would cut Mm 
 dead. 
 
 However, this disagreeable idea need not be 
 contemplated_, for by no chance nor possibility- 
 can Jack ever find out, unless Thyrza betrays 
 him, and he has settled that matter to his entire 
 satisfaction, so he is quite safe and there is no 
 fear of it leaking out. 
 
 " Miss Lefroy, can anyone be handsome who 
 is freckled ?" asks Thyrza abruptly, pouring out 
 another cup of tea for Mark. Of all domestic 
 avocations there are not many so pretty and 
 becoming to a woman as that one of making tea. 
 The attitude of raising the arm to lift the tea- 
 pot shoTTS off waist and bust to advantage, and 
 if ordinarily good-looking and possessed of a 
 tolerable figure, almost any girl will look charm- 
 ing at the head of her table, more especially 
 w^hen the table is a little round three-legged 
 one, and the background is of Virginia-creeper. 
 Then, afternoon tea has none of the formality 
 about it that appertains to the late dinner ; there 
 are such convenient opportunities for bewitchingly 
 simple costumes ; and how much can be made out 
 of handing a cup of tea, and the apparently 
 innocent question of whether you take both 
 cream and sugar ? Hardly anybody does now- 
 a-days, but it is wonderful what an aid towards
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 217 
 
 cementing intimacy the discovery of similarity of 
 tastes even in so small a thing as cream or sugar 
 may be. One of the pleasantest hours of the 
 day in a country house is when every one assem- 
 bles for afternoon tea. It is agreeable in the 
 autumn to sit in a corner that was evidently 
 created by the various architects of Lillieshill for 
 " spoony " people^ and talk nonsense over tea 
 and thin bread and butter_, or the delicious 
 sponge cake which almost melts in your mouthy 
 made by Mr. Lefroy's sovereign and paragon of 
 cooking excellence^ the Lillieshill cook ; or to 
 lounge in the summer under one of the fine old 
 beech trees which have charitably been provided 
 with massive and wide trunks, while the rooks 
 caw odd songs to each other_, which^ though 
 discordant and noisy in our ears, may yet sound 
 very melodious to Mrs. or Miss Rook. 
 
 " Freckles ! " says Miss Lefroy, ^' no, my dear, 
 I should think not.^' 
 
 ^^ Mr. Ferrier said he thought they were very 
 pretty.'' 
 
 " Oh no/' rejoins Ferrier, laughing, " I merely 
 said I rather liked them." 
 
 " Do you know any one with freckles, Jack ? 
 The only person I ever knew who admired them 
 was a man who told me he was partial to freckles 
 and red hair, and besides that he rather affected
 
 218 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 squints. It afterwards turned out he was en- 
 gaged to a girl who squinted and he married 
 her. Jack clearly intends to marry a squinting 
 young woman with lots of freckles and a meagre 
 supply of light sandy hair." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Mark. I don^t mean to 
 marry. I think I see myself going up the 
 church aisle to execution, with my face very 
 long and pale, my step slow — I should go as 
 slowly as I could — and my hands crossed in 
 front as if they were handcuffed." 
 
 " It would be a poor compliment to the bride 
 to be welcomed by a lugubrious bridegroom." 
 
 " I wish Carmylie was in anything like the 
 order in which you have Lillieshill/'' pursues 
 Ferrier. ^' My poor father's death occurred so 
 suddenly and so soon after that of my brother 
 that all energy seems to have been knocked out 
 of my mother, and things have been left to take 
 care of themselves." 
 
 " Ah, I pique myself a little about Lillieshill,^' 
 returns Mr. Lefroy ; ^' but I manage the farm 
 and garden entirely on my own plan, and though 
 I say it myself, you will not find a place in 
 Europe or America better arranged. It is par- 
 ticularly well managed ; particularly so." 
 
 " I am disappointed in Carmylie. No doubt 
 it looked better when properly kept, yet I can
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 219 
 
 hardly fancy how my father could have preferred 
 it to Blackbeck in Lincolnshire/^ 
 
 " He only lived there during the shooting 
 season,, and he liked it because it was near moors 
 swarming with grouse. After the 10th of De? 
 cember he went down to Melton Mowbray 
 for the hunting. But certainly Carmylie is 
 not the house it was during your father^s 
 lifetime."^ 
 
 " I don^t believe the game is anything par- 
 ticular^, and the villagers poach in broad daylight 
 and think nothing of it. That William Gow 
 coolly walks through the avenue as a short cut to 
 the preserves. The keeper is afraid of him^ and 
 so he goes unmolested."'^ 
 
 " I know the man/^ says Mr. Lefroy, with 
 interest; '^ comes of a shocking bad lot. He was 
 a Pendicler — that is^ his ancestors got the land 
 their cottage is built on rent free^ in considera- 
 tion of reclaiming some fields from the heather. 
 Gow pays only a nominal rent. Originally these 
 pendiclers were of the very scum of the earth 
 — the ofF-scourings of creation.^' 
 
 " Well, Gow has a rascally countenance ; but 
 ^ he has a stunning figure." 
 
 " He loafs about the country, sometimes 
 hawking pedlar's goods, and sometimes he drives 
 a fish cadger's cart. I know he poaches in the
 
 220 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Lillieshill woods, but Vve never been able to get 
 hold of bim/^ 
 
 " Is this a sociable neighbourhood, Miss Le- 
 froy ?''"' asks Jack, turning to her. " It seems a 
 thinly-populated one as regards cottages. I 
 don^t think I passed above a dozen on my way 
 hcre.^^ 
 
 " There are plenty of gentlemen^s seats, but 
 very few of the owners live in them. When 
 they are inhabited, it is almost always only in 
 the shooting season, and then they are tenanted 
 by rich English merchants. Country houses 
 are very expensive things to keep up properly, 
 especially if you live any distance from a town. 
 How far is Carmylie from Queensmuir ?'' 
 
 " A little more than twelve miles. ^'' 
 
 " That is a long way from a post-town. Car- 
 mylie is a dear place to live in, and the grounds 
 and garden alone would require a small fortune 
 expended on them in the shape of gardeners and 
 under-gardeners. It must be very awkward 
 having to send such a distance for your letters 
 and household groceries. How do you manage 
 about your coals ?" 
 
 " The farmers have a clause inserted in their 
 leases whereby they are compelled, so many 
 times a year, to cart coals from Queensmuir to 
 Carmylie."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 221 
 
 " Sometliing of the kind is quite necessary. 
 In Tvinter you will be obliged to lay in a store of 
 provisions^ for the road through the glen is 
 sometimes blocked up with snow and is quite 
 impassable for weeks. But perhaps you will not 
 remain over the winter with Mrs. Terrier. '^ 
 
 " That I cannot tell at present ; but certainly 
 not if I can help it.''"' 
 
 " Mrs. Terrier, I daresay, feels nervous occa- 
 sionally, being so far distant in case of emer- 
 gency from a medical man. We are better off 
 in that respect at Lillieshill, for we are only six 
 miles from Queen smuir, and we think nothing of 
 that. You have had a sad home-coming, Mr. 
 Ferrier. We were so sorry to lose your father 
 and brother, both such fine hale handsome men 
 too.^^ 
 
 " It has not been what I looked forward to,^' 
 returns Ferrier, briefly. 
 
 The spirit moves Mr. Lefroy to offer some 
 consoling observation to Jack, but he does not 
 know in what terms to couch his sympathy. If 
 it had been Jupiter or Europa seized with pneu- 
 monia, he would have found plenty to say. But 
 this is such a different subject, and one in which 
 his feelings and his heart are not so absorbed. 
 
 " Bless me ! dear me ! dear me ! It is indeed 
 a melancholy thing, very, particularly so. But
 
 222 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 you know these — eh ! hum ! — these little acci- 
 dents will happen^ and one cannot prevent 
 them V' 
 
 " Very true/^ answers Jack, moving to show 
 Thyrza a photograph of the house up the Yang- 
 tse-Kiang in which Mark and he lived in China. 
 
 " What a large house^ monsieur V^ 
 
 " Yes_, we found our diggings too big for us, 
 so we divided the one great room into several 
 little ones. Not half bad^ was it ?^' 
 
 " I have the pagoda one too, Jack.^-* 
 
 " So I see. It^s a capital photograph. There 
 is a temple right at the top of the rock, made- 
 moiselle^ most beautifully ornamented with car- 
 vings. A flight of a thousand steps leads up to 
 it, cut out in the solid stone, and it is a ticklish 
 affair to climb up as the rock is pretty nearly 
 perpendicular,, and the river, which is very deep 
 at that point, flows below. Are there many 
 foxes about here, Mr. Lefroy ?" 
 
 '' Abundance and to spare. I am not a 
 hunting man myself, and I prefer pheasants to 
 foxes. Sometimes the keeper shoots a fox by 
 mistake.^^ 
 
 " This must be a stiff* country to ride over 
 with the hills, but there are no hedges and com- 
 paratively few ditches.^^ 
 
 " Not many hunt ; so few can afford the time
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 223 
 
 and the money for tlie horses. But there is a 
 subscription pack of hounds, and if you like to 
 subscribe the Master will be very glad to gain 
 another member/"' 
 
 " Not worth while for all the time I shall be 
 at Carmylie. I had nearly forgotten Charity's 
 message. It is about mademoiselle^s coming to 
 Carmylie. Will you all come to-morrow to 
 afternoon tea and croquet ?^'' 
 
 " I don't think we have any engagement/' 
 says Miss Lefroy. "So we shall be delighted to 
 accept her invitation ; unless, indeed, the day 
 should be hopelessly wet.^' 
 
 " That is a thing which we can never 
 depend upon. Why 'does not some one invent 
 an apparatus for making sunshine and fine 
 weather to order ? It is one beauty of living in 
 the tropics, you can count on a long tract of fine 
 weather right ahead," replies Jack. 
 
 " I hope it wont rain. To arrange an open- 
 air party, and then for the rain to appear to 
 spoil it all is so very annoying and disheart- 
 ening.'" 
 
 " Well, Miss Lefroy, as I wish to get back in 
 time for dinner, I must be moving.'' 
 
 " Wont you dine with us ?"" she asks. 
 
 " Thanks verv much, but not to-nig^ht. Good- 
 bye, mademoiselle, you will see to-morrow what
 
 224 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 a TvikI place your lines are cast in for the 
 future/' 
 
 " If you wont be induced to remain, Jack, Fll 
 come part of the way with you/' 
 
 "All right, Luke/' 
 
 And the two men walk off, both smoking like 
 chimneys. " Blessed be the man who invented 
 sleep," said Sancho Panza, Don Quixote's amusing 
 follower. And blessed, thrice blessed be the me- 
 mory of Sir Walter Raleigh who introduced the 
 use of the soothing weed, echo the votaries of ni- 
 cotine. The man who smoketh not is to be pitied. 
 He may, it is true, save some few shillings but he 
 loses more than he gains. The non-smoker can 
 form no conception of the delicious moments of 
 contemplation — the pleasant reveries — the untold 
 bliss contained in a '' Tip caf — the enchantment 
 which spreads out with the grey vapour — the 
 clever ideas and happy thoughts which flash 
 across the brain, while the smoker, contented and 
 at peace with all the world, puffs out clouds 
 under the influence of Raleigh's tranquillizing 
 discovery. And if the man is to be pitied, how 
 much more that man's wife ! No pipe of peace 
 to be smoked in which the domestic troubles 
 and vexations, all aggravations and that odious 
 "little bill" (still unpaid) , vanish away with the 
 fumes of the tobacco, and irate Benedict returns
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 225 
 
 with the house of his mind swept and garnished 
 from the evil spirit^ even ready to indulge his 
 offending spouse with a new bonnet or to look 
 with favourable eyes on Worth^s last account for 
 that duck of a gown. 
 
 " Snug box that; Luke/'' says Jack^ looking 
 back at Lillieshill, lying in the afternoon sun 
 among the green lace -like leaves of its beech 
 woods. " I suppose it will be yours some time 
 or other. What a lucky fellow you are V^ 
 
 "Why, yes; unless Uncle Richard should 
 marry .^' 
 
 " Jove ! you don^t think he will ?" 
 
 '^Well, one can never be certain of those old 
 boys. They often end by marrying girls of 
 eighteen. You don't catch them taking any 
 much older. They think women are not like 
 wine, and don't improve by keeping. But I 
 should imagine he would not. It would break 
 Aunt Fanny's heart_, and no other woman would 
 let him fiddle about the housekeeping as she does.'' 
 
 " Luke, what becomes of fellows who are 
 bankrupts? One continually sees in the list of 
 sequestrations, so-and-so is smashed, and there is 
 the finis." 
 
 " Don't know, I am sure. Oh, they must of 
 course get something to do. But that reminds 
 me — are you goiug to keep Carmylie on your 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 liands and settle there^ or let it aud go out to 
 China again T' 
 
 '' That depends upon circumstances. To begin 
 with, Carmylie must be sold at once. There is 
 no question about that. It seems my father had 
 not long bought it before the bank in which 
 most of his money was placed collapsed, and he 
 sold part of the moors and mortgaged the rest; 
 so the creditors come upon it."*^ 
 
 " Whew V says Mark. " What was the mort- 
 gage for?^^ 
 
 '^ j845,000. That is covered by the property. 
 But my father must have been infatuated, for 
 instead of resting content and living quietly, he 
 went in for horses and jockeys and trainers. 
 There are heaps of debt, but I have only been 
 at home a couple of days, and have not had 
 time to give more than a cursory glance at his 
 papers, and cannot tell yet what the sum total 
 will be.^^ 
 
 " My dear fellow, it^s a pretty go.''"' 
 
 " Yes, that it just is ! I should not care a 
 hang, but there is my mother, who has been 
 accustomed to nothing but luxury all her life. 
 I am going to offer the creditors what I had laid 
 by, towards a composition, and I think I shall 
 i^ell my share of the business in Shanghai, and 
 buy a partnership in England, that is, if I can
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 227 
 
 get anything wortli having, for every profession 
 seems overstocked. Then I should take a com- 
 fortable villa near the town where my business 
 was situated for the old lady, and the creditors 
 would, perhaps, come to terms. I would pay 
 so much a year, and clear off interest and prin- 
 cipal at the same time.'^ 
 
 ^' I would not sell the business in Shanghai, 
 Jack. It^s ten to one you get anything so good 
 in England.'^ 
 
 " Well, there's sense in that, Luke. But it is for 
 the sake of my mother. She depends entirely 
 upon me, and does not want me to go abroad 
 again, as she thinks she will never see me again. 
 And of course it is on the cards she may not. 
 Anyway, I shall insure in her favour, so that if 
 I go first she will be all serene .'' 
 
 " Your father never treated you kindly, 
 Jack.'' 
 
 ^' Oh, well, he's gone now." 
 
 " Dead or alive, that doesn't matter, he did not 
 treat you well. People should have more con- 
 sideration for those who come after them than 
 to leave everything in a muddle. He never 
 spent a penny more on you than he could 
 help. As for William, he lavished hundreds 
 on him." 
 
 '' William deserved that he should." 
 
 ]5— 2
 
 228 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " YoTi did not kno.w of this in Shanghai ?" 
 " No, I had not the vestige of an idea of it ; I 
 thought I was coming home, like the prodigal, to 
 a snug competency. As far as I can make out 
 there is a good deal of money invested in foreign 
 railway shares, and some in mining companies, 
 which last have gone to grief since I came 
 back.^^ 
 
 " It^s a bad look-out. Do you think you will 
 ever get clear T' 
 
 " "Ton my word, it^s impossible to say. "When 
 I have found out the extent of the liabilities I 
 shall be better able to judge. I think the 
 governor must have been taken in by the lawyers. 
 You never saw such accounts as they have sent 
 in, pages long. I shall go to Edinburgh next 
 month to see the solicitors. Carmylie is to be 
 advertised immediately for sale, and we shall 
 have to turn out next February.'^ 
 
 " Disagreeable time of year to move, too.^-* 
 '' I do not see how it can be managed sooner.^^ 
 '' This will keep you a poor man^ Jack. What 
 a pity it is^ and you were getting on so well ! 
 
 If I could '' 
 
 " Thanks, old fellow. I know what you mean. 
 But I could not, and it would be of no use. 
 You^U hear of me turning up as a billiard-marker 
 at the other end of the world some of these
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 229 
 
 days; or^ Luke, make me your coacliman. 1^11 
 close with you for a hundred per annum. Fve 
 often thought a gentleman^s coachman has a 
 good time of it/^ 
 
 " Well, Jack, if it should come worse '' 
 
 "I shall know where to come to, shan^t I? 
 But I shan^t all the same. I never was the 
 chap to whom money took kindly. It was you 
 who were born with a silver spoon in your 
 mouth. Don't you remember in the old school- 
 days at the Blue Coat, that when we were both 
 tijDped, your sovereign always lasted till nearly 
 the end of the half, but mine had always been 
 spent when we had been about a month at 
 school, and I never could tell how it went for the 
 life of me V 
 
 " I say, .Tack,^-* says Mark, reflectively. 
 
 " Well V 
 
 " Have you no convenient old party belonging 
 to you whom you could persuade would be hap- 
 pier in a better sphere than this ?" 
 
 " And leave me all his or her tin V* 
 
 " Yes.^' 
 
 " We had one, and a lot of good it has done 
 us. But he was the only one of the species. 
 And if there was another, you may be sure he 
 would not die when wanted, but stick on like 
 old boots, just out of sheer perversity. Those
 
 230 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 old duffers never die, but live out those wlio are 
 waiting for their shoes. That field looks as if it 
 ought to be a good cover for partridges. I 
 should like to have a day's shooting here in the 
 autumn."'
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 RS. TERRIER, with Charity, Jack, and 
 Mrs. Napier^s children, Rosie and David^ 
 are seated at lunch in the dining-room of Car- 
 mylie. 
 
 Time has dealt very leniently with Alice 
 Ferrier, and her still luxuriant black hair is but 
 little streaked with grey. Never exactly beau- 
 tiful, she is not much faded or withered. She is 
 one of those women who, without possessing any 
 special brilliant or dazzling qualities of mind or 
 body, are almost as pleasing when advanced in 
 life as when in theii earliest youth. These 
 women always look nice and seem younger than 
 their real age. Their dresses invariably suit 
 them ; their skirts never fall down in the mud 
 when they think they have fastened them up 
 safely ; their dispositions are not angular nor 
 filled with '^ wills and wonts -" they do not take 
 desponding views of things in general; and
 
 232 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 surest and truest test of all, their relations love 
 them, and their husbands and children worship 
 them. Not particularly clever and with only a 
 fair share of good looks, Mrs. Ferrier had won all 
 hearts during her residence at Carmylie. Her 
 own sex called her '' Dear Mrs. Terrier/'' and the 
 opposite named her " Ferrier-'s pleasant wife.^' 
 To her the loss of husband and son at one 
 tremendous blow was an affliction so great that 
 it was weeks before she could bring herself to 
 mention the names of either again. Added to 
 this was the sudden and unexpected change from 
 opulence to the calculation of how far every 
 shilling could be made to go. 
 
 The dining-room at Carmylie is not a very 
 cheerful looking apartment, the walls being 
 painted a dull mud colour, and the arms of the 
 Campbells — who formerly owned the estate — 
 emblazoned over the mantelpiece is the one attempt 
 in the ornamental line. 
 
 The house itself is a grey, bleak building 
 situated at the top of precipitous cliffs over- 
 hanging the sea, here called the Bay of Car- 
 mylie. Behind lies a small valley and the 
 Glencairn mountains. Neither ivy nor creep- 
 ing plants of any description are trained over 
 the bare w^alls. Carmylie stands dreary and 
 solitary, straight and severe, giving a much
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 283 
 
 greater sense of desolation than the wild, barren 
 hills which guard it on the one side,, or the long 
 lines of sterile cliffs, in a cleft of which is perched 
 the fishing village, which wall the coast, on the 
 other. 
 
 Houses after a time show tokens of the 
 owner^s character, and Carmylie looks as if it 
 had a history. And so indeed it has. The 
 grim old place has changed hands often. In the 
 tunnel on w^hich its foundations are laid, many a 
 Jacobite has hidden when a price was set on his 
 head ; and a little later on, many a smuggler 
 has stolen up the secret staircase leading 
 from the kitchen region to the vast dark attics 
 that extend over the top storey, and hidden 
 there the casks of whisky above-proof, and bales 
 of French silks, and boxes of cigars, for which no 
 duty had been paid. Many are those who 
 have breathed their last, and been carried forth 
 through the shade-haunted corridors to the kirk- 
 yard down the brae at the fishing village beside 
 the sea, and many the happy brides who have 
 driven off from the narrow bolt upright door 
 amidst a shower of satin slippers and wedding- 
 cake. Like all Scotch country houses, it has its 
 ghosts, derived probably from floating local tra- 
 ditions of events which happened so long ago 
 that it is impossible to separate fact from fancy.
 
 234 BROWN AS A BEKRY. 
 
 The windows of Carmylie are small and not 
 very numerous. At the time of erection the 
 modern ideas on the subject of ventilation were 
 still a hundred years in the future, and the 
 window-tax pressing heavily on the purses of 
 the lieges, our ancestors ruthlessly sacrificed the 
 advantages of I'ght and fresh air to economy. A 
 few straggling larches grow close to the house. 
 The gravel sweep up to the front door is ill kept 
 and covered with weeds, the lawn does not seem 
 to have been mown for months ; the only sign 
 of the place being inhabited is a row of bee- 
 hives among some flower-beds, which give evi- 
 dence of receiving more attention than the other 
 parts of the grounds. It is not an inviting house 
 to fix upon as a permanent dwelling. During 
 the summer months, as now, while the sun 
 shines and the weather is fine, the prospect of 
 passing some time there does not appear so 
 unendurable ; but one shudders to think of it 
 as a home on a dull day in November, when the 
 mist settles on the hill tops and lies curled in 
 the deep mountain gorges ; or on a cold, frosty 
 night when the wind whistles down from the 
 broad shoulder of the Witches Law, cutting like 
 a knife, moaning and sighing like a poor lost 
 spirit through the thin larch boughs to the sea, 
 over the great sand bar where so many good ships
 
 BROWN AS A BEERY. 235 
 
 have struck and stranded, going to the bottom 
 with all hands and not a sonl left to tell the tale. 
 
 Then one would naturally wish for the bustle 
 and noise of a town^ with the gaslights, the 
 sounds of the cabs and carriages, and the tokens 
 of life and business and amusement, from all of 
 which Carmylie is as isolated as though built in 
 the middle of the Sahara. 
 
 Yet Carmylie is not without a certain wild, 
 stern beauty of its own. To be sure, it has no 
 smooth, smiling meadows, no purling streams of 
 which to boast ; but those who love the sweep of 
 a bold, rocky coast, the spread of brown moors, 
 the green mantle and aromatic spice of pine 
 woods, the golden bloom of whins and broom, 
 and the purple of heather, the wide expanse of 
 water, would find much in which to delight at 
 Carmylie. The air from the mountains is pure, 
 bracing and magnificently clear, and an artist 
 would be able to fill scores of canvasses with 
 the eifects of light and shade on glen, wood, and 
 sea, while the red-and-white fishing village, with 
 its natural pier of rocks, its winding street, its 
 kirk and kirk-yard, would in themselves furnish 
 subjects for many sketches. Ferrier has justly 
 described Carmylie when he said, that besides the 
 fisher-folks and the minister there is no society. 
 So it may readily be supposed that Charity
 
 236 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Napier^ accustomed to tlie gaiety which attends 
 ail Indian station containing five regiments^ who 
 were among the fastest in the army^ should com- 
 plain of being buried alive. 
 
 The Carmylie estate was originally of large 
 extent^ but is now reduced to a few small 
 farmSj the house and grounds^ and some moors 
 for shooting. These are all that remain of the 
 former broad lands. For this the Campbells 
 themselves were partly to blame, and disastrous 
 ^45, which ruined so many families in Scotland, 
 bringing her noblest and best to the block, had 
 also a great deal for which to answer. The 
 Campbells were an extravagant race and seemed 
 born with a fatal facility for spending money. 
 While gifted with beauty of person and amia- 
 bility of disposition, they were also endowed with 
 an awkward and uncomfortable habit of being- 
 unable to refuse acquiescence when events re- 
 quired a decided negative, or to deny themselves 
 anything which appeared to them desirable to 
 possess. 
 
 The immediate consequence of this want of 
 backbone or moral strength, Avas that Carmyhe 
 was put up for sale. 
 
 Luck undoubtedly runs in families and seems 
 to be attached to certain houses. In this respect 
 Carmylie appeared possessed by an avenging
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 237 
 
 Greek fate. Mr. Ferrier had been a prosperous 
 raaiij content to live quietly on his small pro- 
 perty at Blackbeck House in Lincolnshire^ until 
 a relative died^ leaving him a large fortune^ on 
 which he purchased Carmylie, and from that 
 moment began going the pace which kills. This 
 pace^ however agreeable, cannot be long kept 
 up, and the rate at which Mr. Ferrier went was 
 so mad and furious that the only, wonder was he 
 did not go to smash sooner. But business men 
 knoAv that occasionally immense sums of money 
 may be made without money. Mr. Ferrier had 
 some knowledge of this method, and before in- 
 volving himself in the troubles and expenses of 
 lawyers^ mortgages, made sundry efforts to re- 
 deem himself by " flying paper."*^ Unfortu- 
 nately, he was unsuccessful. He never tried to 
 reduce his expenditure and kept up two establish- 
 ments all the year round, one at Melton Mow- 
 bray, and the other at Carmylie. There never 
 had been such gay times known in the county as 
 when Mr. Ferrier came down to Carmylie for the 
 shooting season. There was open house from the 
 12th of August until December 10th ; Champagne 
 flowed like water at never less than twelve 
 shillings a bottle, balls, dances, fetes, dinners. 
 
 Then, first one moor was parted with and then 
 another. The property was mortgaged to the
 
 238 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 last halfpenny of its value, and for several 
 years before his death Mr. Ferrier lived not 
 only up to his income, but very much beyond 
 it. 
 
 The sudden illness and death of his eldest 
 son_, William, a promising young man, in whom 
 all his hopes were centred, was a great shock 
 to his system, from which he never rallied, 
 and he died, leaving his wife totally unprovided 
 for. His lawyers considered it a merciful 
 removal, as he was spared the pain of being 
 obliged to declare himself bankrupt, and at 
 his advanced age it would have been impossi- 
 ble for him to begin anew in any profession. 
 
 So Jack was summoned home from China 
 by Mrs. Ferrier. At that time she had no idea 
 to what an extent her husband's affairs were in- 
 volved, and it was not until Jack^s arrival at Car- 
 mylie that he was informed of his father's debts, 
 which to clear off will be the work of years. 
 
 The first step towards economizing had been 
 made as soon as Mrs. Ferrier^s lawyers acquainted 
 her with the state of things, and Mr. Ferrier^s 
 fine stud was sold by the instructions of the 
 solicitors, along with the house at Melton Mow- 
 bray, and the household at Carmylie reduced 
 to the lowest scale compatible with comfort and 
 ordinary respectability. Charity was well jff
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 239 
 
 being liberally supplied with money by Captain 
 Napier. 
 
 ^^The governess comes to-day/' says Mrs. 
 Napier. " I don''t imagine she is very proficient 
 in her profession, but she will do until we leave 
 Carmylie, and I got her cheap. She is Mr. 
 Mark's protegee/' 
 
 " What is the damage, Charity ?" asks 
 Terrier. 
 
 " Not very deadly, twenty pounds a year.'' 
 
 " As much as you pay your maid ! It is too 
 little. What is she to do ?" 
 
 " Undertake the entire charge of the chil- 
 dren and their wardrobes, as the advertisements 
 say." 
 
 " Oh, poor little girl, you can't expect her 
 to manage with that. I'll give you a ten pound 
 note towards making it thirty." , 
 
 " It is horrible to be so poor," pursues !Mrs. 
 Napier ; " Carmylie was so different in poor 
 dear papa's time," raising her lace-edged hand- 
 kerchief to her eyes. " There was plenty of 
 society and lots going on." 
 
 " AsCloughsays, *^How luckyit is to have money, 
 heigh ho ! How lucky it is to have money !' 
 The fellow who wrote the other day some non- 
 sense about virtue and rubies, had never known 
 what it is to be without sixpence in the world. '^
 
 240 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " It is odd Miss Rutherfurd's people should 
 live at Marshley/^ says Mrs. Terrier. " What is 
 she like ?" 
 
 " Tall, scraggy, red nose, uncertain temper, 
 and of an awkward age. By-the-bye, mother, 
 what is an awkward age ? Jack, I have asked 
 the Lefroys and MacNabs to-day.'''' 
 
 ^' I wish you would not. Charity.^' 
 
 " It is not so expensive as a dinner to have 
 them to afternoon tea, and you can^t expect to 
 be asked out, unless you give something in 
 return. I asked the MacNabs on your ac- 
 count.^'' 
 
 " On my account ?" 
 
 " Yes, for you. We have plenty of blue blood, 
 and pedigrees and so on. W^hat we want is a 
 little hard cash in the family. You see I am 
 married already.''^ 
 
 " Otherwise you would be willing to sacrifice 
 yourself for the good of the family. Then I am 
 glad your fate is sealed.^' 
 
 " But the MacNabs are nice lady- like 
 girls. ^' 
 
 " And I fear they may remain so for me. If 
 matters are only going to get straight by marry- 
 ing some one with money, they will not be set 
 right by me. I shan^t present you with a 
 sister-in-law/^
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 241 
 
 " I am not sorry^ Jack ; they are generally 
 great nuisances/' 
 
 " There's Rattray with the letters/' announces 
 Rosie^ running to open the door. 
 
 "Weel^ laird_, we hae gotten gude weather at 
 last/' says a voice in broad Scotch^ belonging to 
 a short thickset man, with merry twinkling eyes, 
 grey hair, and cheeks ruddy like a ripe American 
 apple. He is Terrier's factotum for three days 
 during the week ; on the alternate three, he is 
 the walking post between Carmylie and the 
 post town of Queensmuir. " I hae broucht the 
 tabaky/' continues Rattray, tranquilly, " it's the 
 best tae be got in Queensmuir, but I'm some 
 doubting it's no extra gude, and I hae paid the 
 tailor, and here's the receipt, and gotten your 
 fishing-breeks wi' me, and Rosie's new bonnet, 
 and it's tae be houpit Mrs. Napier will be pleased 
 this time." 
 
 Whereupon Rattray delivers the pcstbag to 
 Ferrier, and a bandbox tied up in a red pocket- 
 handchief to Charity, but so far from leaving 
 the room on having fulfilled his duty, he re- 
 mains while Charity tries on Rosie's hat, to 
 judge of the effect. 
 
 Rosie is a pretty child with a fresh fair com- 
 plexion, blue eyes, and yellow hair, which she 
 wears cut over her forehead, in exactly the same 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 BROWN AS A BEREY. 
 
 way as her xnother's. Her brother Davie is 
 another edition of herself, with shorter hair, 
 dressed in knickerbockers. The pair are twins, 
 of the age of eight or nine years, and as full of 
 mischief and impudence as two spoiled children 
 can be. 
 
 " Any news from Queensmuir, Rattray, or the 
 village ?'■' asks Ferrier_, who enjoys a talk with 
 that worthy. 
 
 " No just ony thing in parteeklar/' returns 
 Rattray, unwilling to commit himself so far as to 
 say there is any news, but on the other hand 
 anxious to keep up his reputation for hearing the 
 on dits of the burgh before any one else. 
 "There's an auld wife near killed wi' furious 
 driving by the lad Nicol^ the young doctor, ye 
 ken ; and I did hear that our minister, Mr. 
 Dods, is to tak^ a wife.'^ 
 
 " Poor man ! I am sorry for him/' says 
 Ferrier. 
 
 " Fat for ? Taking a wife ? Weel^ there is nae 
 dout but that whiles it is a sairious trial till a 
 man. But I'm thinking Miss Jean Cock burn 
 will not be to hae him. He has no eneuch 
 o' money. And ye ken women wad marry auld 
 Nick gin he wad keep them aye braw." 
 
 " And very right of them too,-" laughs 
 Ferrier. " Rosie, open the sideboard and you
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 243 
 
 will find some wliisky in a bottle ; pour out Rat- 
 tray a glass." 
 
 " Thank ye kindly," says Eattray, holding up 
 the " mountain dew" between himself and the 
 light with an appreciative glance. " And here's 
 your gude health, laird, and the mistress yonder, 
 and !Mrs. Napier, and Davie, and Rosie's. I 
 daursay it wadna be the waur o' a drappie 
 watter." 
 
 " You need not put in any water, Rattray," 
 exclaims truthful Rosie, hastily, " for mamma 
 put in plenty yesterday, when Uncle Jack was at 
 Lillieshill." 
 
 " That's right, Rosie," returns Jack, " speak 
 the truth and shame old Scratch. Rattray, give 
 me your glass, and Til pour a little more whisky 
 in." 
 
 " Has Cecilia been writing any more poetry, 
 Rattray ? What did you think of her last 
 piece ?" inquires Mrs. Terrier. 
 
 Rattray's eyes twinkle. He pauses before he 
 answers, and then makes response — 
 
 " Tae speak the truth and tell no lees, no 
 mucJcIe ava ! But I was up Bogg water yestreen, 
 and I catched four dizzen o' trout, and I can 
 tell ye I think vera muckJe o' them. Na, na. 
 It's no for women folks to write bits o' poetry. 
 That's no their business. Besides, women's 
 
 16—2
 
 244 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 poetry is nae better than a curren'' rubbishin' 
 havers !'"' 
 
 " You are a very ungallant man ! If I were 
 Cecilia, I should be most indignant/'' laughs 
 Mrs. Napier. 
 
 *^ Ah V very prolonged, " Cecilia kens better 
 than that.'' 
 
 " What are you going to do with that 
 dreadful instrument of torture, Rattray V asks 
 Terrier. Rattray has an ancient blunderbuss in 
 his hand — a weapon of great age, deeply valued 
 and admired by him. Friends and acquaintances, 
 however, are apt to keep at a respectful distance 
 when they perceive him coming near with his 
 formidable gun. 
 
 '^ Shoot the spuggies,"" he answers. 
 
 " I wont allow you to shoot the dear little 
 sparrows; they are my particular friends,''' says 
 Rosie. 
 
 ^' Weel, Rosie, I am real sorry to hear you 
 say that," he calmly replies ; " I had nae notion 
 they could be friends o' yours, for they are just 
 the blaggairds o' the feathered creation. Did ye 
 think I sow paes and neeps for thae rapscallions 
 to tak' the heads off ? Tm gaein' oot the noo till 
 hae a shot at them." 
 
 ^' I am cominoj too' says Davie.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 245 
 
 Rattray sprinkles treacherously handfuls of 
 oatmeal on the ground. 
 
 " Mind yersel noo/* he calls out_, " I am just 
 aboot till fire." 
 
 " Let me pull the trigger," shouts Davie. An 
 awful explosion is heard. One sparrow lies 
 prone and hors-de-combat on the earth. Rattray 
 picks it up, and caresses afiectionately the mass 
 of flufiy feathers. 
 
 Cecilia, the wife of his bosom, pops her head 
 out of the kitchen window, and shrieks loudly. 
 
 " Nae harm^s dune," says Rattray, con- 
 fidentially. " Sae ye needna skirl !" 
 
 " What a mercy the governess is coming, 
 Rosie and Davie are really quite unmanageable !" 
 exclaims Mrs. Napier. " They have been so 
 much with Rattray, that they have begun to speak 
 quite broad Scotch, and when children begin to 
 speak badly it is so difficult to break them 
 of it." 
 
 " They certainly seem to have been allowed to 
 run wild," remarks Jack. 
 
 " Oh yes ; but who could think of anything 
 with poor dear papa, and dear Willie, and my 
 own health too being so weak. I sometimes 
 think, Jack, that you do not feel their loss 
 much."
 
 246 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 '^ I am as down in the montli about it as 
 anyone can be; but there is no use in letting 
 people see it/' he returns. " You would not 
 have me sit down and cry like a girl who has lost 
 her lover, instead of putting one's shoulder to 
 the wheel, Charity V 
 
 " I am sure Rattray is smoking in the kitchen. 
 I should not allow him to do that/' rejoins Mrs. 
 Napier. "It is for you to speak. You are the 
 master." 
 
 " Oh, let him have his whiff!" 
 
 " Oh, well. I suppose you must do as you 
 like about it. And, Jack^ don't be out of the 
 way when the MacNabs come." 
 
 " You wont want me to play croquet ?" 
 
 "" No, not for your own pleasure ; but it 
 always makes girls better tempered when there 
 is an unmarried nice-looking eligible in the 
 place." 
 
 '^ A nice eligible I am to be sure," says Fer- 
 rier, laughing. 
 
 " Well, and you were my pet brother. Jack. 
 Really that tobacco ! It is poisonous ! Do tell 
 Rattray at least to shut the kitchen door." 
 
 Rattray is sitting on the kitchen dresser with 
 his legs dangling like Mahomet's coffin, between 
 heaven and earth, and his fingers fumble rest- 
 lessly in his pockets; which symptomj by long
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 247 
 
 experience^ his wife is aware means he is search- 
 ing for his pipe. In a few moments he fills the 
 room and passages with the perfumes of the 
 very vilest and stalest pigtail to be bought at 
 Carmylie village. 
 
 He hears the sound of approaching footsteps 
 and departs hastily, and when Ferrier appears 
 to reprimand him he has fled, and is slowly 
 sauntering through the walks in the vegetable 
 garden, pronouncing judgment on the peas and 
 reflecting whether he will '^ stick '^ the late row, 
 or make a new scarecrow to terrify the thieving 
 blackbirds, against whom he wages malignant 
 war, while Cecilia solemnly asseverates on being 
 called to account for her husband^s misde- 
 meanors — 
 
 " As sure as daith, she disna ken wha Avas 
 smoking. It will just be the peat-reek, ^\y." 
 
 Ferrier shuts himself up in his study to look 
 over the factor's books, and write a letter to his 
 partner, Esme Lennox ; but has not long settled 
 himself when he is summoned by Rosie to play 
 croquet with the MacNabs and the Lillieshill 
 people. 
 
 In other ^ays there was a flower garden 
 where the croquet lawn is now situated ; but the 
 beds have long since departed, leaving no traces of 
 their former gay denizens beyond a star of snow-
 
 248 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 drops which appears in spring regularly as the 
 new year comes round. A low moss-covered 
 wall runs between the green and the orchard, a 
 wilderness of a place with ground ivy and peri- 
 winkles growing in profusion over the earth 
 among the old fruit trees. 
 
 Thyrza feels a different creature since her 
 visit to Lillieshill_, more self-reliant, less nervous. 
 The lazy, easy country life has opened out a 
 wider world to her than that of the narrow cir- 
 cumscribed horizon of the Villios pension. A 
 very little makes her happy and bright — a very 
 little, a passing look, a changed tone of voice 
 is sufficient to render her sad ; a smile, a kind 
 word are so much to her. The knowledge of 
 being well and becomingly dressed, added to the 
 consciousness that she is about to become a real, 
 and independent worker, and to be of some use in 
 the world, gives her a sensation of importance 
 entirely new to her. 
 
 Her luggage has never turned up again, so 
 Miss Lefroy has bought her some inexpensive 
 summer dresses, and presented her with a black 
 silk, made with a square cut body for an evening, 
 and Tbyrza has expressly stipulated^to be allowed 
 to repay her when she receives her first quarterns 
 salary. She wears a dust coloured print, a knot 
 of scarlet ribbon at her throat, a black fichu.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 249 
 
 and a black hat of rather a coquettish shape, 
 which suits the brown face and its dark hair. 
 
 Terrier introduces Thyrza thus — 
 
 " Mother, this is mademoiselle/^ 
 
 Mrs. Terrier does not shake hands coldly as 
 if greeting a stranger, but welcomes the girl with 
 a warm kiss, which renders Thyrza her devoted 
 admirer for life. 
 
 " These are your pupils. Miss E-utherfurd,^' 
 says Mrs. Napier, bringing the twins forward. 
 
 " My name is Mischief,^^ volunteers Rosie ; 
 " Uncle Jack gave me it because I let the pigs 
 out one day and chased them round the garden." 
 
 " And what is your name ? " she asks of 
 David, who is peering curiously at his future 
 preceptress. 
 
 " Come and shake hands directly with made- 
 moiselle," commands Terrier. 
 
 ^^ I don^t want to see the new governess," 
 protests Davie, sulkily. 
 
 '^ Oh, Monsieur David," cries Thyrza, pro- 
 nouncing the word with the a broad, as in the 
 Trench language. 
 
 " She's speaking Scotch ; how vulgar /" ex- 
 claims Rosie, laughing loudly. 
 
 '' Shut up, you little beggars !" storms Terrier, 
 with a frown. 
 
 Thyrza may be good for nothing. Most likely
 
 250 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 she is. She coufesses to a predilection for fast 
 things. She may combine all the most disagree- 
 able qualities of his detested and abhorred 
 fashionable woman, but as long as she is in his 
 house she is to be treated with respect. 
 
 " That is not the way to behave to made- 
 moiselle/' he continues. 
 
 Mrs. Napier observes Jack's interference in 
 Thyrza's behalf with displeasure. She hopes he 
 is not going to make an idiot of himself about 
 that girl. He ought to know better. Unless 
 he marries money he cannot marry at all. 
 Besides, she is such an exceedingly plain, wild 
 looking 'girl, and so dark, as black as a crow or 
 a gipsy. But men are great noodles and will 
 sometimes rave about people whom Charity can 
 see nothing in, either to like or admire. There 
 is Lola MacNab, with her fortune, ready to hand, 
 just as if specially created by Providence on pur- 
 pose for Jack. She does not believe what he 
 says with regard to disliking the idea of being 
 tied to any woman without the chance of chang- 
 ing his mind. Cecil Napier said the same thing, 
 and within two months of making the remark 
 was engaged to Charity. 
 
 " Will you have me as a partner, mademoi- 
 selle?'' goes on Terrier. "I don't pretend to know 
 much of the game, but I will do what I can."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 251 
 
 " Oh, that will never do, Jack/^ interrupts 
 Charity, hastily. ^' Two inexperienced players 
 should not be on the same side. Miss MacNab 
 and you will be a much better arrangement.-'^ 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure/' answers Terrier, 
 readily. '^ A crack player such as I understand 
 Miss MacNab to be, will be a vast assistance to 
 mademoiselle and myself." 
 
 " The very first time I took a mallet in my 
 hand I went the round of the green without 
 stopping. I am a first rate hand at all games, 
 particularly so." 
 
 " I dare say, Mr. Lefroy ; beginners at billiards 
 often make better scores at first than piofes- 
 sionals, but it does not last. It is luck, not 
 skill, and, of course^ in the long run^ real play 
 must tell." 
 
 " What are the sides to be ?" asks Mark, 
 swinging his mallet round and round, and then 
 hitting several balls one after another in a vague 
 undecided way. 
 
 " Eight is such a stupid game. There is time 
 to go for a constitutional between the turns," 
 says Mrs. Napier. 
 
 "How would this do? Mr. Lefroy; you. 
 Charity ; Miss MacNab and Mr. Dods : then the 
 others, Mademoiselle, Miss Jane, Mark, and I. 
 Shall we toss up, Mark,, heads or tails ?"
 
 252 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " Tails/^ rejoins Mark. " Tails always do 
 turn up, don^t they ?" 
 
 " I thought Miss MacNab was going to play 
 with you. Jack/' 
 
 '^ Oh, I am sure I apologize, Miss MacNab. 
 I merely thought you would find Mr. Lefroy a 
 better partner than myself.'^ 
 
 ^^ I am quite content with the other arrange- 
 ment, ''' says Lola, a little piqued at being thrown 
 over rather unceremoniously to the lot of the 
 older man. 
 
 " I vote we all play,'' remarks Mr. Dods, in 
 his solemn slow voice. " We can divide into 
 sets of four. I have seen two games played at 
 once on the same green ; the two sets starting 
 from opposite posts." 
 
 " So have I, Mr. Dods, but it was very tire- 
 some. One had continually to stop in the middle 
 of a shot to pick up a ball or wait until the other 
 set had played out a turn," objects Jane MacNab, 
 energetically. " We always met midway." 
 
 Finally it is settled to play a game of eight. 
 
 The minister begins operations. 
 
 In his long black coat and white choker he 
 looks grave enough to justify Lola MacNab's 
 assertion that he surely has lately been conduct- 
 ing a funeral service. He expresses himself in 
 a peculiarly leisurely voice, with pauses between
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 253 
 
 each sentence. He is a person to whom, no 
 matter how free and easy he has been with you 
 on the previous evening, you always seem to 
 require a fresh introduction on your next 
 meeting. 
 
 But Mr. Dods^ in spite of his ceremonious, 
 pompous manners, knows good wine when he 
 tastes it ; he is also a judge of a pretty girl, and 
 a general admirer of the sex. He is the best 
 relator of an anecdote in the neighbourhood, 
 telling the most absurd incidents without moving 
 a muscle of his countenance, while his auditors 
 are convulsed with laughter. After a few 
 glasses of port, or a stiff tumbler of toddy, when 
 fairly roused and set a-going, Mr. Dods is a 
 pleasant enough companion, more especially as 
 he does not intrude his religious opinions upon 
 those of a different communion, and whatever he 
 may 'preach, certainly does not practise sour 
 Calvinistic views. 
 
 On account of these qualities, and having in 
 common with Mr. Lefroy an excellent opinion 
 of himself — after all, the world generally takes 
 one at one^s own estimate — '^ so long as thou 
 doest well unto thyself men will speak good of 
 thee'"' Mr. Dods has many friends, and whenever 
 there is a dinner-party on the topis within 
 twcDty miles of the manse of Carmylie, is in
 
 254 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 request for tlie '^ pleasure of his company/' 
 Besides_, Mr. Dods is not a married man^ and is 
 an object of considerable interest to various 
 maiden ladies in the vicinity^ none of whom 
 would have had any objection to reside at 
 Carmylie Manse^ which they understand is 
 already well stocked with linen and furniture, 
 having been Mr. Dods' father's before him, so 
 there could be little difficulty about settling 
 down. 
 
 Unfortunately for the aspirations of the 
 spinsters,, Mr. Dods prefers wandering about the 
 country instead of " settling like a reasonable 
 man/' and attending to the duties of his parish ; 
 he generally starts the first thing on Monday 
 morning, and returns at the eleventh hour on 
 Saturday night ; indeed, on several occasions, 
 he has never put in an appearance at all on 
 the Sabbath at the kirk, the congregation wait- 
 ing patiently for him, and only going home 
 when the precentor announced it was useless 
 remaining longer, the minister doubtless having 
 missed the train, or met with some accident. 
 
 In anyone else this conduct would have been 
 visited with disapproval and a hint of the 
 Presbytery, but Mr. Dods is a privileged 
 man, and no one hauls him over the coals. His 
 lady friends hold steadfastly to their faith that
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 255 
 
 if he were only married and had a wife to look 
 after him people would see the difference in his 
 behaviour then. Mr. Dods thinks so too, but 
 with a trifling alteration. In the summer he 
 usually has a number of visitors, chiefly ladies, 
 at the Manse, having a married lady to act as 
 chaperone. Dull in the Manse ! He is never 
 there long enough at a time to experience 
 weariness. 
 
 Jane MacNab means playing the game, the 
 
 whole game, and nothing but the game. With 
 
 her it is not a pleasure to while away the 
 
 passing moment, but an absorbing business. 
 
 She flies from one end of the green to the 
 
 other ; routs out Mr. Lefroy whenever Lola and 
 
 he are trying to "spoon;" rushes up and down "to 
 
 give a line -" attacks players who are chattering 
 
 instead of taking a lively interest in the game, 
 
 and decides disputed points, such as if a ball 
 
 may be considered fairly through its hoop when 
 
 half way — and is indefatigable beyond all praise. 
 
 " No doubt, Mr. Mark, you will find a great 
 
 difierence between the society here and that in 
 
 Shanghai," observes Mr. Dods. 
 
 " No, I can^t say I do. We went out to dinner 
 there, or spent the evening at a friend^s house, 
 picked them and the grub to pieces afterwards, 
 and abused them well. Then met them next dav.
 
 256 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 and said how much we had enjoyed ourselves as 
 politely as possible^ just as we do here/'' 
 
 " That does not speak well for society, Mr. 
 Mark/^ 
 
 " But society cannot exist without an amount 
 of shams. How terrible it would be if every- 
 one spoke his mind and the exact truth. It 
 would end in everyone fighting and killing every- 
 body until none was left, after the fashion of 
 the celebrated Kilkenny cats. Imagine paying 
 a call, and being greeted with, ' My dear fellow, 
 I wish you far enough, but as you are here, &c. 
 he' IVe often said how delighted I was, and 
 so on, when I^^e internally been awfully bored.^^ 
 
 " But is not that untruthful ?" 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is. It's a choice between 
 saying what you don't exactly mean, and hurting 
 a person's feelings. The fact is, politeness is 
 very often a test of self-denial. I think I 
 would sooner tell a white lie '' 
 
 " If there are white lies,'' says Terrier. 
 
 "Than wound a sensitive man who may, per- 
 haps, brood over your stray remark, and make 
 himself miserable for days. If one is to live and let 
 live, one must humour people's foibles a little.'"' 
 
 '* Even at the expense of truth ?" 
 
 ^' I don't see why one could not combine 
 civility and truth," replies the minister.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 257 
 
 ^' It^s a more difficult matter than you might 
 suppose. I show you a picture of my own 
 paintings Mr. Dods. You cannot^ in accordance 
 with your conscience, call it anything but fright- 
 fully ugly, but I shall be intensely mortified if 
 you do not admire it. Well \" 
 
 " Ah, we-el.^' 
 
 "Now, Mr. Dods.^' 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Lefroy," says Jane ]\IacNab, 
 "but I fancy I saw you move your ball into 
 position.^' 
 
 " Ah, eh, oh V^ exclaims Mr. Lefroy, caught 
 in the very act of kicking his ball in front of his 
 hoop, " I thought it was my turn.-" 
 
 "We-el,^^ rejoins Mr. Dods, " I sincerely hope 
 I may never be so situated, Mr. Mark.^^ 
 
 "You don^t call that an answer, do you, 
 Mr. Dods ?" laughs Mark. 
 
 " I don^t much like those very strictly truthful 
 people, Mr. Dods. I hope you are not shocked ! 
 But they resemble a certain class of extremely 
 pious persons,^^ observes Charity, " who are always 
 treading on your toes and making disagreeable 
 remarks (generally true, too), without the least 
 consideration for your feelings.''^ 
 
 " Oh, wad the power the giftie gie us, 
 To see ourselves as ithers see us," 
 
 quotes Mr. Dods. 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 BROWN AS A BERKY. 
 
 ^^ Heaven forbid," says Ferrier, pausing to hit 
 the stick. " It would be a most objectionable 
 present. What is wanted is a process by which 
 our neighbours shall see us as we see ourselves. 
 Then the world would be as full of living perfec- 
 tion as, judging from the epitaphs on tombstones, 
 it is of departed saints.'''' 
 
 '' Look at the enemy ; they are flourishing 
 like the green bay-tree of the wicked, but you 
 will see it wont last. It is your turn now, 
 Mr. Lefroy. This is your hoop. You go through ; 
 hit Miss MacNab ; croquet her down to me with 
 the following stroke, ' take two off ' from Jack, 
 and away to your next hoop, and then " 
 
 Mr. Lefroy prepares to make his stroke. 
 Mark goes down on his knees to see that his 
 mallet is all right. 
 
 ^' A little further in ; no — to yourself. That's 
 it. You have changed it again. There, now 
 you must come through without fail.'' 
 
 " They'll get it right sooner or later," remarks 
 Terrier to Thyrza. 
 
 " Just a thought more to yourself," counsels 
 Mark. Mr. Lefroy obediently moves the position 
 and is arranged according to Mark's ideas, when 
 the loud report of a gun is heard in the orchard 
 close by, followed by a louder exclamation. Mr. 
 Lefroy gives a start, hits his ball with the side
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 259 
 
 of his mallet, and the result is an unmitigated 
 miss. 
 
 ^' The mallet twisted/' says Mr. Lefroy, look- 
 ing rather foolish at this ending to all the elabo- 
 rate preparations, "and I really believe it is a 
 crooked one. I cannot play well with a crooked 
 mallet/' 
 
 '^ Any person killed ?" asks Terrier, looking 
 over the wall into the orchard ; " it is Rattray 
 with the blunderbuss, I am always afraid of 
 some accident happeaing with it.'' 
 
 " Mr. Dods, do come up," implores Mrs. 
 Napier. This is exactly what the minister has 
 vainly attempted to do through the whole game, 
 so it is hardly to be expected he will succeed 
 now. 
 
 Croquet has been rendered so extremely scien- 
 tific lately, that a good deal of the pleasure for- 
 merly attending this pleasant mode of spending 
 a few hours in the open air is departed. But 
 besides being scientific, it can also be made 
 a very irritating game. If spitefully inclined, a 
 skilful player can bully or worry his opposing 
 enemy to death while really remaining within 
 bounds, and in no way exceeding the rules and 
 regulations. As at other games, the old fable 
 of the hare and the tortoise is often verified at 
 croquet. The last is not seldom first. The 
 
 17—2
 
 2C0 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 gay free lance, who wanders over the green, 
 striking terror into the hearts of sober stayers at 
 their hoops is frequently left behind at the close, 
 while the slow coaches who have plodded from 
 ring to ring with patient perseverance win the 
 game easily, proving the truth of the adage, 
 " Slow and sure wins the race/'' 
 
 Most people get a little hot over croquet. 
 Even the meekest of maidens, whom no one 
 suspects of possessing any temper at all, grave 
 church dignitaries, learned barristers and pro- 
 fessors, and worthy ministers like Mr. Dods^ will 
 dispute violently, and argue to the last gasp over 
 some trifling point of play. For it is not in 
 human nature to be taken from a delightful 
 position in front of your hoop, made use of in 
 helping your enemy through his rings, or in 
 waging war against your own side, and finally 
 be sent adrift, without experiencing a slight con- 
 viction it would aff'ord you a pleasing sensation 
 to do likewise to that ball which has put you to 
 the rout, and scattered you and your companions 
 to the four corners of the globe. 
 
 '' Tired, mademoiselle V^ asks Ferrier. 
 
 " No, monsieur.''-' 
 
 '^ Then what are you sighing for ? Because 
 you have the bad luck to be a girl ? Misfor- 
 tune to which you will have to submit, as it
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 261 
 
 cannot be altered. You would never have done 
 for a man, unless you had got a new set of 
 dispositions, feelings, and character." 
 
 " Why not ?" says Thyrza, making a dashing 
 long shot from one stick to the other, and 
 hitting the minister's ball, which evokes from 
 him an astonished, '' We — el ! Miss Rutherfurd.'" 
 
 ^^ Because — I will tell you afterwards. I know 
 you are going to make a mull of this stroke. 
 This is your last ring, is it not ? If you play 
 decently, the game is in your hands, and we 
 shall win in a canter.'^ 
 
 " It is all up, Mrs. Napier, I am afraid,'"* re- 
 marks Mark. " Miss Thyrza has it all her own 
 way. They will go out this time." 
 
 " Lola, will you oblige me by moving, I think 
 there is a ball somewhere under your dress. 
 Where is yours, Mr. Lefroy, I don't see it any- 
 where ?" 
 
 " Oh, Jane, I am admiring the view ; did you 
 ever see anything so sweet as the sea, and the 
 cliffs of St. Philip's to-day ?" 
 
 Jane searches in vain for Mr. Lefroy's ball, 
 and as it is in his coat-pocket in which he has 
 hidden it until required, there is no wonder her 
 labour is thrown away. Lola had not got much 
 out of Mr. Lefroy in the way of " spooniuess." 
 It takes a good deal of wine to get him up to
 
 262 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 the mark, and while saying anything and every- 
 thing, there is no fear of his committing him- 
 self. Short of an offer in plain words he is 
 perfectly safe. Soft looks, tender sentences ; 
 garnished with poetical quotations, connt as 
 nothing, and if she succeeds in leading Mr. 
 Lefroy to " sacrifice" at the altar of Hymen, 
 Lola will be a clever young woman. Thyrza 
 sends Mr. Dods away, places herself in a good 
 position, and having one stroke more tries the 
 hoop, but becoming nervous, or her hand trem- 
 bling at the critical moment, she blunders the 
 little easy stroke as people so often do after 
 executing something really difficult, and, striking 
 the wire, her ball rebounds to the wrong side, 
 without going through the ring. 
 
 " There ! I was sure you would spoil it. You 
 were in too great a hurry, and did not look to 
 see if you were hitting straight. You would not 
 have made me a good clerk in Shanghai." 
 
 " No ! But I should only have had to add up 
 accounts, and write things in a big book." 
 
 " That is clear and concise ! I should some- 
 times have wanted you to do other things be- 
 sides writing in a big book." 
 
 " Going out shooting ?" 
 
 " Not exactly. One time some of Mark^s 
 men and mine got into a row, and were put into
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 263 
 
 prison, and he and I took a journey up country 
 to speak to the mandarin of the town, where 
 they were confined. We got separated, and I 
 wandered over so many miles over the hills at 
 night among the brushwood, a sort of prickly 
 bush which grows there in great abundance, it 
 tore my clothes to shreds, and scratched my face 
 and legs until they were one mass of wounds. 
 In this lively predicament, not knowing where I 
 was, and not having the most remote notion 
 how far distant the town was to which we were 
 going, I tumbled up against something soft. 
 There was a splendid moon shining, and by its 
 light I saw that it was the body of a man with 
 his throat cut in a horrible manner, nearly sever- 
 ing his head from his body. The Chinese, you 
 know, never bring any dead body they find lying 
 about, because if they did, the magistrates would 
 consider them implicated in the death. Now, if 
 you had been with me, you would have either 
 fainted on the spot, or else had a fit from terror 
 which would have rendered affairs more com- 
 plicated for me.^^ 
 
 ^' Monsieur is very *' 
 
 *' Come, Mr. Ferrier, I do wish you would 
 attend,^^ interrupts Jane. " It is too bad ! 
 Everyone goes off and talks in the intervals be- 
 tween their turns, and they never remember where
 
 264 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 tliey are going, or when they ought to 
 play." 
 
 ^^ Oh, Miss Jane, that is too severe ! I don^t 
 believe you ever hit the stick,^^ says Mr. Lefroy, 
 who has cheated shamefully, and only been 
 through about half the hoops, so it is rather 
 cool of him to complain of Jane MacNab. Jane, 
 really vexed and angry, bestows an indignant 
 look on her sister, upon whose ball she swoops 
 down, and forthwith croquets to the inmost 
 recess of a mazy hedge, whence it is rescued with 
 infinite difficulty and trouble. 
 
 " You should have two greens, Mr. Ferrier,^^ 
 she remarks, resting on her mallet, and feeling 
 considerably better after having wreaked her 
 revenge on Lola, " one for people who do like 
 to play, and another for those who merely mean 
 to flirt and cheat. ^^ 
 
 ^^ I am sure. Miss Jane," says the minister, 
 deprecatingly, ^^ I have been honourable, although 
 once or twice sorely tempted, throughout." 
 
 " It was not you I meant," looking across at 
 Mr. Lefroy. 
 
 He has deserted Lola and is paying attention 
 to Mrs. Napier. In her half-mourning white 
 dress and black sash, the former tucked up just 
 enough to show her small feet in high-heeled 
 shoes with diamond buckles, made after the
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 265 
 
 fashion of the last century_, she is a very 
 agreeable figure for contemplation. Lola^ even 
 -with her Parisian dresses, cannot attain the quiet 
 elegance of Mrs. Napier, which is distracting 
 alike to man and womankind. 
 
 '' Mademoiselle, you are very pale, sit 
 down. The seat is more comfortable than it 
 looks. It is here I smoke my after-breakfast 
 pipe ; but I generally bring a rug with 
 me.^^ 
 
 " Miss Jane, did you read the account in the 
 Scotsman yesterday of the golf match at S. 
 Philip's ?' asks Mr. Dods. 
 
 " Excuse me, I never talk at croquet," she 
 returns, giving him the snub direct. '^ I like 
 doing one thing well at a time, and prefer to 
 watch the play.'^ 
 
 " Monsieur was lost on the Chinese hills," 
 says Thyrza. " Will you not finish ?" 
 
 " Well, I went on, and when daylight came 
 found myself not very far from the town 
 Chip-Cho-Hoang-Ho, where the mandarin lived. 
 Wasn't I glad, that's all, to see some human 
 beings again? But I was such a spectacle what 
 with mud and scratches, and not to mention the 
 most part of my trousers being torn and de- 
 stroyed, that some kind person spread a report 
 1 was a magician, and the entire population set
 
 266 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 on me witli sticks and stones^ and I had to bolt 
 for my life/' 
 
 " Did you run V inquires Thyrza^ much 
 interested. 
 
 " Rather ! I showed them a clean pair of 
 heels ; for of course I was far out-matched and 
 the odds were tremendous. I tore along to the 
 mandarin's house, contriving to keep ahead of 
 my pursuers. They were much fresher than I 
 was, having had the advantage of their night's 
 rest, while I had been on foot for hours. But 
 the training I had had as a lad at '' Hare and 
 hounds" and " Paper chases" when at school 
 served me now, and I dashed breathless into 
 the hall of the mandarin's house. I was so 
 winded I could not speak or perform the cus- 
 tomary civilities, about which they are very par- 
 ticular. Luckily, Mark was there, and the 
 presence of the mob, with my ragged, bleeding 
 figure — I had got one or two nasty cuts from 
 some stones the natives shied at me — sufficiently 
 explained how things stood." 
 
 "I wish I had seen you." 
 
 " I was hardly presentable for a lady's eyes, 
 so it is fortunate you did not. The mandarin 
 had the good sense to listen to reason ; he gave 
 me a bath, and we procured some more decent 
 clothing, and then we discussed the trade dis-
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 267 
 
 pute. Our men were liberated; but the popu- 
 lace were so furious tbat the mandarin was 
 obliged to grant us a guard of soldiers, between 
 whom we marched out of Chip-Cho-Hoang-Ho, 
 very glad to shake the dust of that city off our 
 feet, and escorted into the country by the yells 
 and execrations of the people/^ 
 
 " What did they say ?" 
 
 " Oh, little simple things such as ^ Kill the 
 English devils V ' Slash them to bits/ and other 
 cries of that kind. As they spoke Chinese, I 
 understood all they said, and I could scarcely 
 refrain from firing at them ; but I knew if I did 
 nothing would prevent them from falling on us 
 and tearing us to pieces ; and then our country- 
 men would have to put up a memorial to our 
 memory, rejoicing that our loss had left an 
 opening in the trade. It was no joke to keep 
 cool when mud and missiles of divers sorts were 
 whistling round our heads, and the men jeering 
 and mocking and cursing us.^^ 
 
 " It must have been splendid fun, and so 
 exciting V^ says Thyrza. 
 
 " I canH say I quite saw where the fun lay at 
 the time,^' returns Terrier, with a grim smile. 
 " And you are welcome to that kind of excite- 
 ment where I am concerned." 
 
 " Can you speak Chinese ?"
 
 268 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 "Yes. It is next to impossible to get 
 on with the natives unless you can acquire the 
 language/'' 
 
 " Is it awfully difficult V' asks Thyrza. 
 
 " It^s not easy ; worse than Greek ; and you 
 can''t depend on interpreters — often frightful 
 scamps/^ 
 
 " I wish now I had thought of going into 
 business/^ says Mr. Dods j " the ministerial is 
 not a money-making profession^ and I think 
 before long we ministers will have to strike, 
 like the masons and mill-workers.^^ 
 
 " China is not what it once was, and it is 
 quite a mistake to think one has only to go out 
 there and money comes of itself. A whole 
 batch of poor young fellows threw up their 
 appointments as clerks in London and came out 
 to Shanghai/' observes Mark. " They were 
 nearly starved, and we had to get up a sub- 
 scription for them to pay their passage home again. 
 The fact is, that one requires interest and capital 
 out at Shanghai as well as in England.^' 
 
 " Is the climate good V 
 
 " Not very ; lots of yellow fever, and seven or 
 eight out of every ten who take it on their 
 arrival die. You would require to go out about 
 twenty, or thereabouts, in order to get used to
 
 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 269 
 
 it. It is a good thing to get into tlie Chinese 
 customs, if you can speak the language. 
 Begin with a house at 50/. per month, which 
 increases if you give satisfaction. In that case 
 you can make plenty of money, and can 
 trade on your own hook. If I was going to 
 begin again I think I should try the Island of 
 Formosa.^^ 
 
 " Had I known what I do now, it would 
 have been the very thing,^^ answers Mr. Dods. 
 '^ What do you think of the burgh of Queens- 
 muir ?" 
 
 " In much about the same condition as 
 Shanghai was when I first knew it, as regards 
 the streets. It has improved immensely of late 
 years. I suppose you never heard the joke 
 about Terrier when he first arrived there. He 
 had letters of introduction to the heads of a firm, 
 and they, hearing of his landing, invited him to 
 dine with them. So, after looking about the 
 town a little he took up his abode in an hotel 
 and donned his very best evening dress clothes. 
 Of course he was anxious to cut a dash and 
 make a good impression upon the gentlemen. 
 So then he set off. It grows dark very sud- 
 denly in China, and the streets of Shanghai 
 were neither paved nor lighted, and were very
 
 270 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 like a sea of mud^ with lakes of water here 
 and there. A considerable gale was blowing, 
 and somehow or another Ferrier tripped up, lost 
 his balance, and fell headlong, all his length 
 in the slush.^^ 
 
 " What did he say V asks Mr. Dods. 
 
 " Something much too hot and strong to be 
 repeated in your presence,^^ says Ferrier, answer- 
 ing for himself. " I was in a holy frame of 
 mind, more easily imagined than described, as 
 novelists say when they come to an awkward 
 bit. I have often noticed that, after remarking, 
 ' it is impossible to describe this scene,' they 
 never fail to have a shy at it."*^ 
 
 " And did you go to dinner ?" 
 
 '•' Hardly. I went back to the hotel and sent 
 an excuse to the people. ^^ 
 
 " Do you know Jack once made a plum- 
 pudding ? It was one Christmas, in Shanghai, 
 Mrs. Napier. It was a great big one, for 
 fifty people, and was boiled in a cauldron. 
 Jack had two fellows with long poles to stir it 
 round. ^^ 
 
 ^^ What, was it not boiled in a bag V ex- 
 claims Jane MacNab. 
 
 " Oh yes, it must have been, but still I re- 
 collect its being stirred round, and one of the
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 271 
 
 men complaining of being too hot, Jack emptied 
 a bucket of cold water over bis bead." 
 
 " It is very scrubby of you^ Mark^ to tell tales 
 out of school," remonstrates Jack_, amid tbe 
 general laughter. 
 
 " John Chinaman would rather run a dozen 
 miles than meet Jack when he was in one of his 
 impulsive moods. He does not call it being in 
 a temper, or a rage^ or a passion,, but merely 
 being a little impulsive '^ 
 
 " That is worth remembering," says Mr. Dods ; 
 '^the next time I am reproached with scolding 
 the congregation for bad attendance at the 
 kirk, I shall say I am only following my im- 
 pulses." 
 
 " Now, Miss Thyrza," calls Mark, ^' I believe 
 it is left to you to give the coup de grace and 
 end our miseries." 
 
 Thyrza steps forward, and the balls being 
 placed near the winning-post, puts them out one 
 after another. 
 
 The victorious side wave their mallets over 
 their heads in triumph. 
 
 " Well, Miss Jane, you deserved to win, for 
 I think I only went through about six hoops," 
 owns Mr. Lefroy, frankly. 
 
 ^' You did not require to tell me," returns
 
 272 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Jane^ appeased by having won, " for I saw very 
 well what was going on/^ 
 
 " Will you have your revenge ?" asks Ferrier. 
 " I daresay you will play the second game better 
 and will be more used to the ground and the 
 mallets.^'
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 T is a wet day, in fact, a very wet day. 
 Wet days may be divided into two kinds, 
 those whicli make a feeble attempt at intervals 
 to clear up and often delude a pleasure party 
 into the mistaken belief that if they wait a little 
 longer it will soon be fine ; but this desirable 
 event does not happen, the sun remains behind 
 the cloud which perhaps has a " silver lining ^' 
 somewhere and the rain keeps on a gentle drizzle, 
 all the more irritating because it is just too 
 heavy to go out in, and has besides saturated the 
 grass and woods with wet. Then in opposition 
 to the undecided rainy day is the decided wet 
 day. This is more agreeable to deal with. One 
 knows what to do and what to expect; one is 
 not beguiled with delusive hopes of getting out ; 
 and accepting fate quietly, one settles down to 
 one^s work or letters with peacefulness. This is 
 unmistakeably a decided wet day. There is no 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 doubt about the way in which the rain pours 
 down from the grey eaves^ and trickles along the 
 waterspouts. The weather has made up its 
 mind to be wet_, and wet it is. The wind howls 
 mournfully round the house^ and mixes with the 
 racket of the waves on the rocks below as treble 
 and bass mingle together in a duet. 
 
 Few visitors trouble Carmylie, even in fine 
 weather; so on a day like this^ of drenching 
 rain^ there is little chance of being disturbed by 
 morning callers. Terrier is in his study smok- 
 ing a pipe and pondering over his father's 
 debtS; and a meeting he must shortly hold in 
 Edinburgh with some of the Scotch creditors 
 and his lawyers. His attitude is more easy 
 than elegant,, his feet resting on the top bar of 
 the grate, in which burn pieces of peat and fir- 
 wood, and his hands are crossed over his shoul- 
 ders behind his neck. Dinner is in course of 
 preparation in the kitchen. Cecilia is head 
 cook besides being housekeeper, and some of her 
 efforts would startle Mr. Lefroy. Her know- 
 ledge consists of how to make broth and boil 
 beef, and she can also fry trout. That a little 
 variation in the menu is desirable, never once 
 occurs to her. On Jack's arrival from China, 
 he had dismissed the cook and two housemaids, 
 finding from a cursory glance at his father^s
 
 BKOWN AS A BERRY. 275 
 
 papers that he could not afiford to keep more 
 servants than Rattray and Cecilia. Conse- 
 quently^ the household is rather primitive. The 
 meals are served within half an hour or so 
 of the time fixed, and it is Ceoilia^s opinion 
 Mrs. Ferrier ought to be thankful to see dinner 
 at all, instead of complaining that the roast hare 
 is so peculiarly skewered it looks as if it were 
 going to leap off the dish ; or grumbling about 
 the tea having been boiled before the fire until 
 it is bitter as senna. Mrs. Napier^s own maid, 
 a supercilious woman — a bad imitation of her 
 mistress in style and dress — is a thorn in the 
 flesh to Cecilia. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrier has not been accustomed to 
 housekeeping. Until latterly, she has always 
 had a housekeeper. But, feeling for Jack, she 
 has read up cookery books, and now ventures 
 rather timidly into the kitchen to heg Cecilia to 
 take pains with the stew. 
 
 Cecilia is not fond of being intruded upon in 
 her own particular domain, " leddies should bide 
 in their ain place, and she wad bide in hers.^^ 
 And after replying not very brightly, Mrs. Fer- 
 rier goes back to her sitting-room. 
 
 Rattray is making a " potato bogle," Anglice, 
 scarecrow, the day being too wet for him to do 
 any outdoor work. He has got an old sack, an 
 
 18—2
 
 276 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ancient hat_, a ragged coat^ and a quantity of 
 sawdust, with which to stuff the figure. 
 
 Cecilia careers from pan to pan, lifting off 
 lids and putting them on again, while Rattray 
 whistles his favourite tune, ^^ Charlie over the 
 Water/'' and stitches the sack together with a 
 darning needle and some twine. He devises 
 arms rather ingeniously by means of a piece of 
 wood, and tying a string round the neck of the 
 sack manufactures a round bullet-shaped knob 
 intended for a head. 
 
 " Gae wa^ oot o^ that, Maister Davie V ex- 
 claims Cecilia, '' Fll no hae ye routing amang 
 my pans. Fat^s that ye hae drappit into the 
 watter butt at the door ? Gae wa^ wi^ ye.''^ 
 
 '' Would it not be jolly to paint eyes, nose, 
 and mouth, on the bogle ?" says Davie, paying 
 no heed to Cecilia, and abstracting a hot potato 
 from one of the aforesaid pans, so hot that he 
 dances in a sort of pantomime over the brick 
 floor while peeling it. 
 
 '' Fine,'''' returns Kattray. " But how would 
 you pent them T' 
 
 " Youll see," answers Davie, making a grab 
 at Cecilia*s cap in running out of the kitchen, 
 and presently he comes back with a large cameFs- 
 hair paint brush, and a small bottle containing a 
 dark fluid.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 277 
 
 '' That's no pent." 
 
 " Oh,, isn't it ? Just look how splendidly it 
 takes it on." 
 
 " I dinna believe it's pent" persists Rattray, 
 as Davie with a few touches of his brush pro- 
 duces a pair of goggle eyes, a nose a good deal 
 to the one side, and a mouth literally from ear 
 to ear. 
 
 " Will you let me paint your face, then ?" 
 asks Davie. " You can easily wash it off, you 
 know." 
 
 '^ It's ower thin-like stuff for pent." 
 
 Davie does not wait for further permission, 
 but dipping the brush into the dark fluid in the 
 little bottle proceeds to paint whiskers on each 
 side of Rattray's weatherbeaten cheeks among 
 the stubble he carefully shaves off every Sunday 
 morning. 
 
 " It has an awfu'-like stink" says Rattray, 
 " will it be ink ?" 
 
 " It's black paint, Rattray." 
 
 " I'm for nane upon my nose. It's a trick 
 ye're up to, Davie." 
 
 '' Oh, Rattray, just a little on the tip of your 
 nose." 
 
 " I'm for nane o' your impidence ! Ye are 
 no kenning fat tae mak' o' yersel the day." 
 
 Davie throws the bottle away, and taking up
 
 278 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 the coat stuffs the arms of the scarecrow into it. 
 He is in the act of tjing the hat on its head, 
 when an exclamation from Rattray causes him to 
 fly rapidly out at the kitchen door as if for his 
 life, with Rattray at his heels. 
 
 ^' It^s awfu' thochtless o' Henry tae leave the 
 door that gait/' says Cecilia, plaintively. " He'll 
 hae the chimney on fire. Whiles there's nae 
 comprehending thae men. Maybe he's gotten 
 a flea in his ear." 
 
 " David, where is the key of mademoiselle's 
 room ?" calls Terrier. 
 
 " He's awa' oot this blessed meenit, laird," 
 returns Cecilia. 
 
 " Oh, laird, that laddie is needing his wheeps. 
 He's gien me something that's taen the skin ofi" 
 my face." 
 
 " Where is the key of mademoiselle's room ?" 
 repeats Terrier, sternly. 
 
 A voice replies " far up " the house from the 
 top of a waterspout to which the culprit has 
 scrambled with the agility of a squirrel, ^^ water- 
 butt.'' 
 
 " Then, Rattray, you must fetch a ladder from 
 the steading. Mademoiselle is locked in her 
 room, and Davie has dropped the key in the 
 butt. I have tried the keys of the other rooms 
 and they won't fit the lock."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 279 
 
 " Is he no tae get his wheeps, laird ?" 
 
 " Yes^ if you can catch him," answers Ferrier, 
 laughing at Rattray^ s indignation and the 
 grimaces into which Davie, clinging on to the 
 spout, is twisting his fair face. 
 
 While Rattray has gone for the ladder, Ter- 
 rier throws sundry tiny pebbles up to Thyrza's 
 window. 
 
 '' It will be all right directly," he says. 
 
 *' Tres bien, monsieur," rejoin treble accents 
 from above. 
 
 '' Hold the ladder steady, Rattray. Is this 
 the longest you could find ?" 
 
 " Aweel, it is." 
 
 '^ What are those streaks you have on each 
 cheek ?" he asks, ascending the ladder. 
 
 " I dinna ken, but they burn terrible. Davie 
 pented the potato bogle first, and syne he's tae 
 pent my face. He wanted tae pit some o' that 
 black stufi" on my nose, and it's a maircy I'd 
 mair sense nor let him. I suspectit it was no 
 vera richt when he mentioned the nose. I've 
 wash'd them but they're nae better." 
 
 " I believe it's caustic, Rattray. It was 
 lucky you were not such a soft as to let him do 
 the whole of your face." 
 
 " Bide a wee till I catch ye, Maister David," 
 shouts Rattray, holding the ladder with one hand
 
 280 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 and shaking his closed fist in the direction of 
 Davie. 
 
 ]\Iaster Bavie^ although in rather a precarious 
 situation.,, liberates one finger to place it in close 
 proximity with a feature in his face which nature 
 has not thought fit to render very prominent : 
 indeed^ it is a decided snub. However^ snub 
 noses have one decided advantage over those of 
 a more classic type ; they can be twisted from 
 one side of the visage to the other^ and are 
 a great aid in the art of grimace making, 
 
 Ferrier reaches Thyrza's window and looks in. 
 
 " This is the only resource left, mademoiselle, 
 unless you go up the chimney, as the door won^t 
 break open. Will it alarm you ? I thought it 
 would be easier if I came to guide you for the 
 first few steps.^'' 
 
 "No, monsieur.^'' 
 
 " You had better not look down at the side of 
 the house if you can help it."*^ 
 
 " I always feel giddy on a high place.^' 
 
 " And yet you ran along the parapet of Bogg 
 Bridge so carelessly. There was no sense in 
 doing that. Now you want pluck you have none.^^ 
 
 Thyrza climbs on to the sill by the assistance 
 of a chair ; Ferrier gives her his hand and holds 
 her by the waist until her feet are firmly planted 
 on the steps of the ladder.
 
 BROWN AS A BEURY. 281 
 
 '^ Now_, do begin to move. It may be a 
 romantic position tbis particularly dry day^ but 
 I don't relisb it mucb/^ He is afraid for her up 
 at sucb a great beigbt^ and has an uneasy recol- 
 lection of noticing, as he ascended, that the 
 ladder is rotten, or not very secure about the 
 middle. But he dare not say anything for fear 
 of rendering her more nervous. 
 
 " The losh keeps/' exclaimed Rattray from 
 below. ^'^Are you and the laird tae bide a' day 
 at the tap yonder T' 
 
 " I must let go, mademoiselle,^' pursues 
 Terrier. 
 
 " Oh, don't, monsieur." 
 
 " We shall never get down if I don't. Keep 
 hold with both hands, and come cautiously, 
 mademoiselle, thee's nowt but a gawpin, as they 
 used to say at Marshley. What a fine view 
 there is from here ! There are splendid breakers 
 on at the sand-bar. I could get a capital shot 
 at that seagull if I had a gun." 
 
 Ferrier removes his hand from Thyrza's waist 
 and goes down several steps, leaving her to come 
 as she can. 
 
 " Courage, mademoiselle ; if you fall you fall 
 on me, and we shall both go together." Left to 
 herself, Thyrza puts one foot and then the other 
 down^ and so arrives towards the bottom of the
 
 282 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 ladder, when it breaks in two and slie only saves 
 herself by springing to the ground. 
 
 ^' It is fortunate that did not happen before, 
 or you and I should have damaged our necks 
 a little I fear/^ says Jack, in his most frigid 
 voice. " How came Davie to play such a trick 
 as to lock you in ? You are too young to have 
 the care of such romping children." 
 
 " I don^t know," answers Thyrza, recovered 
 from her fright. " I went to make myself tidy, 
 and when I wanted to get out the door was 
 locked, and I screamed, and monsieur came and 
 tried to break into the room, and he could not, 
 and the keys did not fit, and voila tout." 
 
 " Tidy !" rejoins Terrier, with a queer look 
 at Thyrza^s hair, which comme ordinaire is in 
 admired disorder, and the pin of her bow in the 
 front of her gown has vanished, leaving it 
 dangling ready to fall. ^' Next to a sensible 
 woman I like to see a tidy one. Neatness is 
 the sign of a well-balanced mind." 
 
 ^' I was under the impression I was very neat 
 indeed," she returns, as they halt in the porch 
 for a moment. 
 
 ^' Then T don^t know what you can call untidy!" 
 
 " Kh, if you had seen me sometimes at the 
 pension you would perceive one great improve- 
 ment now."
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 283 
 
 ^^Well, I did not, and I am afraid I have 
 lost something very valuable by not being there. 
 May I venture to inquire how many hundred 
 years you propose staying in this porch in a 
 thorough draught V^ 
 
 Meanwhile Rattray has picked up the broken 
 ladder, and propping the longest end against the 
 side of the house has scrambled up as far as he 
 can go with safety. Davie crawls along the 
 waterspout and stops short near Rattray. He 
 is well aware nothing will be done to him. He 
 has only to lie on his back and roar lustily to 
 make both Mrs. Terrier and Charity nearly go 
 into hysterics. If old Mr. Terrier had been 
 alive Davie would not have ventured on such 
 pranks, but even he had softened down a good 
 deal before his death, and the mischief which 
 would have been visited with condign punish- 
 ment in his own sons merely drew a smile upon 
 the grandchildren. As vexing or distressing Mrs. 
 Terrier in any way is the last thing Jack would 
 do, Davie gets off scot free, although he considers 
 he would be much benefited by an occasional 
 thrashing. Davie approaches nearer Rattray. 
 
 The old man shakes his fist at him, and Da\ne 
 adroitly slips on to a window-sill and seizes the 
 ladder. 
 
 " Ye thrawn wratch V cries Rattray, angrily.
 
 284 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " bide till I^m on the groond again and Fll gie 
 ye it/' 
 
 " Will you really T' says Davie^ shaking the 
 ladder violently. 
 
 '' Oh-, maircyj maircy \" exclaims Kattray. 
 
 " Will you promise not to say anything about 
 it?'' 
 
 '' Na^ I'll promise naething." 
 
 " Then I'll shake the ladder until you fall/' 
 pursues Davie, knowing he has the best of it_, and 
 thoroughly enjoying Rattray's terror. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! I'll say naething mair, I winna, 
 Maister Davie, I winna." 
 
 " Will you swear you won't ?" demanded the 
 young rascal, giving the ladder a tremendous 
 jerk. 
 
 " I'll sweer onythi7ig, onything ye like," pants 
 Rattray, breathless with fear, willing to swear to 
 whatever Davie wishes, and resolved to perjure 
 himself the instant he touches terra firma 
 again. 
 
 " Then I'll let you down," slackening his grasp 
 of the ladder, on which it need hardly be said 
 Rattray scuttles off it sideways, like a crab in a 
 hurry, and ducks behind the water-butt. Davie, 
 occupied with an acrobatic performance of 
 sliding from the spout on to the ladder and 
 descending at the gallop, is received almost into
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 285 
 
 the very arms of Rattray^ who has skulked out 
 from his hiding-place. Davie^ however, is slip- 
 pery as an eel, and three times as supple as 
 Rattray ; he twists himself from his embrace by 
 a somersault, regains his footing, and is in the 
 house and upstairs with Mrs. Ferrier before 
 Rattray has been able to rise from the wet 
 dank grass. 
 
 ^^ Are you busy, mademoiselle V asks Ferrier, 
 entering the schoolroom some few minutes later. 
 
 ^^ Not very, monsieur.^^ 
 
 " Could you spare me a few minutes V 
 
 " Yes,''^ says Thyrza, rather wonderingly, " I 
 could, but I am not sure that I shall/'' 
 
 <' Why not ? What have I done to incur 
 your displeasure ?" 
 
 " You told me I was very untidy .'' 
 
 '^ So you were.^^ 
 
 '' But I am neat now, am I not ?" 
 
 "Well/^ doubtfully, looking at the simple 
 print gown and blue bow at the throat, which 
 she has put on since coming out of her room by 
 the ladder, having found it in the schoolroom, 
 " it's better. But did you ever pin your collar 
 straight in your life V 
 
 '' Is it not straight ?" 
 
 " No ; a quarter of an inch too much to the 
 left. I have got a letter from my French agent
 
 286 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 which I can^t quite make out. The idioms are 
 so bothering and the fellow writes such an odd 
 hand_, otherwise I should not trouble you/' 
 
 " It will be no trouble. I suppose monsieur 
 desires that I should translate it into English 
 for him ?" 
 
 " Exactly so/' 
 
 '^ Shall I begin now ? Where is the letter ?'' 
 
 ^^ It is in my study. I think you will find it 
 easier to write a translation of it there^ especially 
 as there are a number of trade terms in it which 
 without me you would be unable to understand. 
 Will you come then ?'' 
 
 Terrier's study is the morning-room which 
 belonged to the late Mr. Terrier. It is fitted up 
 with light oak and dark blue hangings powdered 
 with gold fleur-de-lisj with carpet and furniture 
 to match, of blue and oak. Pictures on the 
 walls of racehorses in almost every possible 
 attitude, reveal the taste uppermost in the mind 
 of the previous owner. On a writing-desk is an 
 inkstand composed of four horse-hoofs set in 
 silver, formerly appertaining to a favourite mare 
 of Mr. Ferrier's. Round the room are hung a 
 collection of antique pistols and guns and 
 fowling-pieces, and some magnificent trophies 
 of big game, sent home from India by Captain 
 Napier ; heads of tigers and elks and antelopes.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 287 
 
 and the striped skin that once covered the 
 treacherous;, cruel form of a huge man-eater 
 now serves the peaceful purpose of a comfortable 
 hearthrug. On a table strewn with papers, blue 
 envelopes, and ledgers, are several morocco-cases 
 of jewels belonging to Mrs. Ferrier. They are 
 to be sold by her own wish, and contain trinkets 
 of great value. 
 
 '' There is a seat, mademoiselle," says Ferrier, 
 dragging out a large arm-chair for her. Thyrza 
 sits down and translates the small, elaborate 
 writing of the Frenchman into English. 
 
 " Koonfongs ?" she asks, inquiringly. '' And 
 No. 1 and No. 2 tsatlee koonfongs, Hs ?" 
 
 " Oh, merely trade terms. Stick to the point 
 in question. What is it the man wants to say 
 about seeing me in the autumn. Does he want 
 me to go, or does he not ?" 
 
 " I have not finished yet, but I shall in 
 another moment. Shall I write it out for you, 
 or read it aloud ?" 
 
 '^ Write it out, please, and then I shall not 
 forget it.'' 
 
 She copies out the translation and hands it to 
 Ferrier. After he has read it through, he ap- 
 parently waits for her to abandon her seat and 
 leave the room. 
 
 " Can I help monsieur T' she says, when
 
 288 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 Ferrier has been so good as to remark lie con- 
 siders the translation '^ not bad/"* 
 
 ^' You have already done so. I think there is 
 nothing more in the way of further assistance 
 that you can do. You cannot add up the 
 accounts ; I suspect your arithmetic is of an 
 Irish nature — Twice five is six ; the nines in 
 four you canH, so dot three and carry one^ and 
 let the rest walk V 
 
 " Oh no/^ returns Thyrza_, earnestly, " indeed 
 it is not. And I do want to let you see that I 
 am not silly and foolish .^^ 
 
 " If you imagine I think you are so, you 
 must know my thoughts better than I know them 
 myself.^^ 
 
 " But you said I was silly. ^'' 
 
 " You are not more foolish than most girls, 
 and a great deal wiser than some/^ he rejoins, a 
 little impatiently, " but you must not mind what 
 / say. I don^t know much about girls. During 
 the past few years, as I have already told you, I 
 have seen precious few specimens, and I must 
 own what I have seen did not make me wish 
 to see any more,^"* laying down his pen, and 
 strangling a violent yawn that is trying hard to 
 get into existence. 
 
 '^ I do mind what you say. I can^t bear for
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 289 
 
 you to think me a simpering nothing. I want 
 you to believe I am not stupid/' 
 
 " I don't say you are a simpering young 
 woman. Far from it.'' 
 
 This comes of being out of the ordinary run. 
 No good ever results from that. Well, she is 
 no relation of his, so it does not signify. 
 
 " But I can't believe you are wise when you 
 are not,^^ he goes on very distinctly, *^^no young 
 persons are. When you are older and have 
 seen the world you will have acquired knowledge, 
 and have learnt how to use the common sense 
 with which nature has provided you " 
 
 " I wish I was old," she bursts forth, impe- 
 tuously. 
 
 " Time will soon cure that fault. What is 
 the matter ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing," she says, abruptly, turning 
 away. 
 
 " Well, then ; I will swear you are wiser than 
 Solomon." 
 
 " No, don^ty I had much rather you said what 
 you thought. I should hate for you to say un- 
 truths only to please me, as if I were a baby J' 
 
 " Hate ! is not that rather strong language 
 considering the occasion ? There is no pleasing 
 you. If I say what I think, you are — impul- 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 BROWN AS A BEKRY. 
 
 sive ; if I flatter you^ it is worse. What shall 
 I do T' 
 
 " I don^t want to be flattered or compli- 
 mented; if monsieur would let me assist him/^ 
 she rejoins, persuasively, ^' I used to copy out 
 Mr. Spindler's musical compositions for him, 
 and I never made any mistakes. Besides, there 
 is no fear of '' pausing. 
 
 " Of what ? Go on, mademoiselle.^' 
 
 " There is no fear of you falling in love with 
 me,'"* says she quietly, without an atom of co- 
 quettishness in her manner. 
 
 " Speak for yourself,^' returns Terrier, gravely, 
 " how do you know that T' 
 
 ^' Because you told me so.'"' 
 
 " Do you believe everything you are told ? 
 You ought to believe nothing of what you hear, 
 and only a quarter of what you see. What^s 
 the use of my thinking well of you ? It won't 
 do you any good, or make you a bit the happier, 
 or put any money into your pocket." 
 
 " Monsieur is so clever ; his opinion is worth 
 having.'' 
 
 " I am afraid I am only a poor devil at the 
 best, a man of no account," and Terrier gives 
 a little sigh ; " it is really very amiable of you 
 to wish to help me, but I scarcely think you 
 understand what you want to undertake. Shall
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 291 
 
 I instal you in office as my clerk ? * Yes/ you 
 answer^ but I shall perhaps be cross and scold ; 
 then the tide will come in and you will cry." 
 
 " Oh no/"* she replied, with a bright smile, 
 " I never cry. I am sure I should not.^' 
 
 '^'Well, I will tell you what I am about. 
 You may have heard that I am rich, but in 
 fact I am poor as a church mouse. These books 
 here are the lawyers^ accounts which I am look- 
 ing over. Now, you don't know the difference 
 between single and double entry." 
 
 " Well, it is a fact I do not, but I can 
 learn,'' says she with another smile, which makes 
 Terrier inwardly determine he will not invite 
 this new kind of clerk to return to his study, 
 otherwise the play will end in a word of four 
 letters — Love. 
 
 "You would learn Chinese as quickly,'^ he 
 answered, gruffly ; " however, I will give you a 
 trial. First of all, seven times eight V' 
 
 " Fifty-six." 
 
 "Are you certain?" 
 
 " Sans doute, monsieur."' 
 
 " Nine times nine V 
 
 " Eighty-one." 
 
 " Once one ?" 
 
 " Two." 
 
 Ferrier shakes his head. 
 
 19—2
 
 292 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 '' Ahj wliat stupid I am ! One of course." 
 
 ^^ So far, so good. Please give me your un- 
 divided attention. There are the leases of the 
 grass parks — Scotch term that for meadows — 
 at Carmylie for the last eight years,, add up 
 the sum total, and as you wish to be useful, 
 will you sew a button on this wristband for 
 me? Needle and thread are just at hand in 
 Charity ^s workbox.'''' 
 
 Whether nervous or not cannot precisely be 
 said, but Thyrza bungles in threading her needle, 
 and only after an attempt of about a minute, 
 does she discover that the reason of her non- 
 success lies in the eye being filled up. Even 
 then, she does not thread it with her usual 
 quickness. However, this being finished, she 
 turns to Terrier. 
 
 '^ As you are so kind, mademoiselle, this is 
 wnere the deficiency lies." 
 
 She bends down to stitch on the button, un- 
 conscious of the quickening of Terrier's pulse, 
 like electric wildfire, as her brown soft fingers 
 accidentally touch his strong muscular wrist, and 
 a tress of her flowing locks rests for an instant 
 on his dark bronzed cheek. She is so close to 
 him that he can almost hear her heart beating 
 rapidly under its thin print covering. Intent
 
 'brown as a berry. 293 
 
 on her work^ slie does not notice the glance he 
 fixes npon her. 
 
 " It is not now properly sewn on. See what 
 a little thing is sufficient to break it off/' he 
 exclaims, treacherously wrenching it off, in 
 order to have the pleasure of Thyrza sewing it 
 on again. " Your education has evidently been 
 neglected. Before trying to be a clerk, you 
 should get up thoroughly the arts belonging to 
 your own sex. Seventeen years of age, and not 
 able to stitch on a button." 
 
 '^ It is monsieur's fault, and monsieur has no 
 manners,'' remonstrates Thyrza, threading her 
 needle once again, and beginning her task once 
 more in all innocence, " if monsieur would re- 
 main tranquil I could do it very well." 
 
 "Ah, you've pricked your finger ; poor little 
 brown finger." 
 
 '^ Don't pity me," says she, viciously. 
 
 " You should not undertake more than you 
 can do." 
 
 She gives a little stamp and snaps the thread. 
 
 " Sew it on yourself," she exclaims, and throw- 
 ing the needle into the fire, she moves towards 
 the door preparing to make her exit, when Jack 
 prevents her by standing with his back set against 
 the panels. 
 
 "We should never have got on as master
 
 294 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 and clerk. Nature knew a long way tlie best 
 when she made you a woman, but that sensi- 
 tive disposition of yours so touchy '^ 
 
 " I am not touchy/^ 
 
 " I beg your pardon, you are touchy. That 
 disposition would have got you into dreadful 
 scrapes as a man. Why, you would have been 
 knocking down every second fellow you met, 
 because he happened to say something which 
 offended you. Look here, mademoiselle, I want 
 you to make friends with Charity. You will 
 learn from her those nice feminine ways which 
 are so taking.^"* 
 
 " I can^t endure nice feminine ways,^' protests 
 Thyrza, thoroughly provoked. ^' Why should 
 not a man and woman be able to be friends 
 without falling in love T' 
 
 " Not a very relevant question,^^ returns 
 Terrier, in an exasperatingly cool tone of voice, 
 still keeping his back firmly pressed against the 
 door. " Because any experiment of the kind I 
 ever heard of has been a failure. ^^ 
 
 '' Monsieur, I wish to return to my school- 
 room ; please open the door." 
 
 " Pardon me, you have not fulfilled your part 
 of the bargain," says he ; "^ I believe you pro- 
 mised to help me about the grass leases."*' 
 
 " WeU V
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 295 
 
 '^ I will explain it to you if you will attend. 
 There are so many fields — you will find the 
 number on referring to the papers — each con- 
 taining so many acres of land let at so much per 
 pole^ and varying in price as the land varies in 
 value. It is as easy as A B C.^' 
 
 But Thyrza is too much offended to be at once 
 consoled and appeased. Ferrier quits the door. 
 He comes to her. Her left hand — the forefinger 
 of which was wounded in his service — hangs 
 limply dowuj and on the said small forefinger 
 there is a little red stain. 
 
 " I never thought monsieur could have laughed 
 at me/' she answers^ in return to his expressions 
 of penitence, rubbing off the stain with her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " I am too old and stiff to go down on my 
 knees, mademoiselle, or I would do so and 
 apologize," he entreats. 
 
 Thyrza yields at his contrition and believes 
 that had he not been in truth too stiff, he would 
 have sued forgiveness from his bended knees, and 
 she takes up her position at the table. 
 
 Arithmetic, unfortunately, is her weak point. 
 She cannot add up or divide the smallest sum 
 mentally, and even if provided with pencil and 
 paper before her she still requires some length of 
 time for reflection. The famous ^' herring and
 
 296 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 a half*' has only been solved by her during the 
 past year,, and though clever enough in other 
 departments, she could never have gained a prize 
 in the mathematical line. I am afraid she would 
 have been plucked in an examination at Oxford 
 or Cambridge. Her imaginative powers are 
 much greater than her arithmetical abilities. One 
 reason for this may be that arithmetic, beyond 
 the four simple rules, has never been clearly ex- 
 plained to her. Now, she is excited, and without 
 pausing to think goes to work at once, sets down 
 the number of acres carefully and the price 
 which they fetched during one grazing season. 
 Ferrier has told her to ascertain the amount 
 which the lot will come to for each year sepa- 
 rately. This is because in some seasons the 
 fields realized more than at others. And then 
 having found the sum for each year to add the 
 produce of the eight years together. This, of 
 course, would give the sum total. But Thyrza, 
 in her haste to do it well and fast, forgets the 
 simple directions, and is presently involved in 
 calculations between cyphers and an odd process 
 of counting which would have made the hair 
 of any good arithmetician stand on end. Then 
 she cannot remember for her very existence how 
 many poles there are in an acre^ and she is too 
 proud to ask.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 297 
 
 Terrier,, meauwhile;, transcribes quickly into a 
 large book, and then answers a letter from -his 
 lawyer in Edinburgh. He writes a small, clear, 
 business-like hand. There is a good deal of 
 character in the decisive, steady letters, formed 
 without a tremor or falter. He reads over the 
 epistle before closing it for the purpose of dis- 
 covering whether any words have been left oat ; 
 then he seals the envelope with his crest. It is 
 also like the man that the seal is well done and 
 perfectly impressed — not an indistinct line in the 
 largely-engraved crest. When this is finished 
 he looks at Thyrza. She is struggling with the 
 sum, which being worked in the wrong way 
 shows an aggregate of several thousand pounds. 
 She bites her lips and wrinkles her blue-veined 
 forehead into deep frowns. She grows hot and 
 pushes her troublesome hair away from her 
 shoulders. As she is doing the sum with pen 
 and ink, she cannot rub out the working. One 
 or two sheets of paper she covers with figures 
 and blots, which are as fast destroyed. Terrier 
 rises and leans over the back of her chair to 
 examine the progress of the sum. She bows 
 down her head and stretches her hands over the 
 last sheet. 
 
 " Let me look,-*-* he says. 
 
 ^' I shan't," she rejoins, raising her head and
 
 298 BROVfN AS A BERRY. 
 
 doubling up the paper. Ferrier lays liis hand 
 on- it. She tears it into little bits ; but she is 
 not so quick about it that Terrier has not 
 contiived to catch a glimpse of the total 
 result. 
 
 " Three thousand five hundred pounds for the 
 rent of about a dozen and a half of fields from 
 Whitsuntide to Martinmas. By Jove, I wish I 
 had you for a tenant. Matters would soon 
 square themselves at that rate. How many 
 poles are there in an acre V 
 
 " I — don't — know/' very slowly, and passing 
 an inky finger over her cheek, she leaves thereon 
 a smudge. 
 
 '' I think there are something like forty and a 
 quarter. Are you vexed, mademoiselle V 
 
 "No-o-o," doubtfully and prolonged. 
 
 " You forgot what I told you. By-the-bye, 
 you've inked your face." 
 
 '' Have I ?" 
 
 ^' You want a looking-glass, I see. There is 
 not one in this room. You are only making it 
 worse. Stay, 1 daresay you can manage with 
 this," pulling out his watch and opening it where 
 it is wound up. " When I've been badly ofi" 
 I've often put my tie straight by its means." 
 
 Thyrza takes the watch and removes the 
 smudge, Ferrier contemplating her the while.
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 299 
 
 " The most beautiful looking-glass I ever saw 
 is here just now/^ he says^ presently. 
 
 " Where^ monsieur ?" she inquires^ regarding 
 him steadfastly. 
 
 '' In your eyes/' he answered. " I seem a 
 different man when I look at myself in 
 them.'' 
 
 " In my eyes, monsieur?" 
 
 " Yes, in your eyes. If you look into mine 
 you will see yourself reflected,, very small, it is 
 true, but quite perfect. Tell me what you see 
 now ?" 
 
 "Well, it is a fact," she exclaims, joyfully; "I 
 do really see myself, monsieur." 
 
 " I see in your eyes the reflection of a man, 
 who might have been much better, and a respec- 
 table fellow, but who instead went all wrong, 
 and is now getting content to drift where fate 
 drives him." 
 
 " Then you don't see yourself, monsieur. How 
 is it that I saw myself so well ?" 
 
 " There is a great difference between your eyes 
 and mine." 
 
 " Is there ? But how ? And who is it you 
 saw?" 
 
 " I can't explain the difference between our 
 eyes, so well as I can this sum about the grass 
 leases. Eighteen hundred and sixty-four seems to
 
 300 BEOWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 have been a capital year for the parks. How many 
 are there ? Fifteen ; I suppose some land must 
 have been reclaimed from the heather, as after- 
 wards they increase to eighteen and nineteen/'' 
 
 He sits down beside Thyrza, taking a fresh 
 sheet of paper_, and setting the sum in clear neat 
 figures, does it for her, explaining the reason of 
 each mode of working. After this, he destroys 
 it and makes Thyrza go through the whole her- 
 self, figure by figure, and refuses to assist her 
 when her memory failing her for a moment, she 
 forgets what she ought to do next. Then after 
 she has finished the whole triumphantly, and 
 copied it tidily into one of the large ledgers she 
 rises, crying delightedly — 
 
 " Now, monsieur, allow that I am of some use.^'' 
 
 " I donH know how it strikes you, but it strikes 
 me that calculating the time, the waste of paper 
 and ink, &c., I might almost as well have done it 
 myself,'''' returns Terrier, drily. 
 
 Thyrza walks right out of the room, banging 
 the door after her, as an outlet to her feelings. It 
 is amazing how refreshing a little explosion 
 of the kind is when one is slightly agitated. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, mademoiselle,'''' shouts Fer- 
 rier, ^^ as we live under the same roof- tree, let us 
 be at peace. Will not you excuse my — impul- 
 siveness, and stitch on that shirt-button V
 
 BROWN AS A BERRY. 301 
 
 '' That I never will/' returns Thyrza, hotly. 
 " And I'll never come back to your study, never, 
 and you may translate your letters as you can/' 
 
 "A regular little pepper-pot/' reflects Fer- 
 rier, returning to his peculiar sanctum, and 
 lighting a cigar, ^' she's quite right about keep- 
 ing out of this study. If she came often I 
 should be making a fool of myself. It's better 
 we should be at daggers drawn. Jove ! I was 
 very near giving her a kiss, and I believe I 
 should if I had not cut up deuced nasty that 
 minute. She'll think me a brute. Hang those 
 infernal debts, I shall never get rid of them all 
 my life. I wish Charity had engaged a woman 
 of an awkward age." 
 
 '' Please, sir ; the meenister has called tae 
 speir for ye," says Cecilia, sticking her head into 
 the study. 
 
 " Tell the minister I am not at home/' an- 
 swers Ferrier, promptly ; going to the open 
 window, from which he beholds Mr. Dods in his 
 Sunday-go-to-meeting broadcloth, waiting under 
 an umbrella on the gravel sweep. 
 
 The almost instantaneous result of this reply 
 is the following, delivered in Cecilia's squeakiest 
 tones — 
 
 " The laird is i' the hoose, but he's no at 
 home."
 
 302 BROWN AS A BERRY. 
 
 " In the house, but not at home ?'' repeated 
 the minister. " De-ar me \" 
 
 " I dinna ken nae mair/^ pursues Cecilia, 
 " that's a' the laird tellt me tae tell ye, and I 
 hae tellt ye exack/' 
 
 The minister retires down the brae to the fish- 
 ing village. 
 
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