LI BRAINY - OF THE U N I VERS ITY or ILLINOIS M5G3e The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN m 12 \9B3 L161— O-1006 2-T Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/ladyherbertsgent01mete THE LADY HERBERPS GENTLEWOMK ELIZA METEYARD, ("SILVERPEN,") AUTHOR OF " MAINSTOXE'S HOUSEKEEPER, &c., &c. IN THREE VOLUIklES. VOL. I. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLHORODGH STRKET. 18G2. Th,' rvjht (\f Tramkitioii is reserved. LONDON : pninted by r. born, gloucester street, regent's park. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. CHAPTER I. THE HALL. The clock is striking twelve as Mr. Quatford, the chaplain, closes the customary service read on Wednesday mornings. Pausing a few mo- ments, he thus adds, according to ancient rule : — "Peace be to the memory of Lady Catherine Herbert. — Amen. Let her bounty ever cherish those of good rearing but low estate. — Amen. Let her name be remembered by her gentle- women evermore. — Amen, Amen." He then descends from his little movable pulpit, which on all other days in the week stands in a dis- tant corner of the hall, and retiring to an adjacent closet, takes off his gown. Coming forth again — his hat in one hand, a book and some flowers in VOL. I. B 2 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. the other — he crosses the tesselated marble floor towards the great doors, which, the first time this year, stand open to admit the sun. Its rays have poured in cheerily all through the hour of service, till now the air is warm and laden with spring odours from near gardens, orchards, and far-off fields. Passing through a lane of little mob-capped girls, twenty in number, in ages between six and sixteen years, and whom, brought up humbly and fittingly for domestic servitude, this noble cha- rity supports, Mr. Quatford descends the sweep- ing flight of steps. Here he is amidst such of the aged ladies as have attended week-day ser- vice; and though they have already begun to pass right and left, or across the lawn-covered quadrangle, to their respective rooms, he has a word or a bow for all. Little Miss Thorne — who is eighty and greatly bent, yet who, nevertheless, wears a fashionable cap of spotless white, leans on an ivory-headed stick, and has a gold chain and dangling eye-glass — returns the bow stifiiy and passes on; for she is severely Calvinistic, and considering herself one of the " elect," differs with the tolerant chaplain on learned questions of predestination, baptism, and free-will : whilst Mrs. Rutland and Miss Simpkins just give flip- pant nods — for the first he oflfended by making prior loan of "John Halifax" to her neighbour Mrs. Smith, and the other by calling her parrot "Billy" a noisy fellow. But the rest of the old ladies, fifteen or sixteen in all, cluster round him THE LADY HERBEKT S GENTLEWOMEN. 3 like happy bees, for their wise chaplain is, as they have proved, their tender and sincerest friend. Be they ill and in trouble, he is ever by their side — confidant of their joys and woes, they have him to speak to, whether they mourn or rejoice. So he has a kindly word for each one. Has this one seen her daughter? — has this other heard of her far-away son ? — is this one better ? — the other less depressed? Then he speaks on general topics — some piece of public news, some festival in the neighbourhood — and reverts at last to the weather as he prepares to go on. '^ Our first true morning of spring, ladies. In such balmy air and divine sunshine our hearts should indeed rejoice." And he bares his noble head, covered by its shock of iron-grey hair, as he speaks, so that the sunshine falls full upon it. ^' It is, indeed," they answer ; " a morning when the old feel young." Then severally they speak of their gardens — the springing peas, the budding gooseberry bushes ■ — and end by telling him that Mrs. Hutchinson, the matron, had allowed the children to ffo into the woods that morning; and the result is that each room is at this moment — according to an- cient and annual custom — gay with its first vernal nosegay of violets and primroses. ^'Ha! one of those old things of Shirlot, that, were I a poet, I would put into verse. Well, spring is the time for birds and children. This mention of flowers reminds me of my own gar- B 2 4 THE LADY HERBERT S GENTLEWOMEN. den, what I gathered there two hours ago, and what I hold here. My bouquet is intended for Miss Hazlehurst. How is she?" Bowing and saying, ^' Good morning 1" to the other ladies, he by this last question has specially addressed a most pleasant-looking old gentlewoman, who, timing her steps to his, now walks beside him. She is a mother you can see by her looks, for the divine sanctity of motherhood sits so lovingly upon her face. "Better to-day," she answers, ^^ though still a sad cripple. But as this is the happy anniversary of my coming here, I keep it as I always do — and she will be o^ood enouoh to take her tea with me and a few other friends. It is but a step along the gallery, Mr. Quatford — but a step, sir ; and with a little aid she will travel the small journey, I daresay." " Ha ! most kind of you ; the little change will do our old friend good. Some of you live too much alone, and solitude in excess is not good for us, Mrs. Boston. But I am going up-stairs to my old friend — I shall not intrude, shall I f ' " Dear — no, sir. She will be glad to see you ; she was already seated by one of her sunny win- dows, as I called in on my way to service. She seemed to expect you, for she was talking of a book you had promised to lend her." "Here it is, and a few of the first flowers my garden has produced this spring. Whilst I walked up and down there in the sun this morning, I could not help thinking what a long winter hers THE LADY HERBERT S GENTLEWOMEN. 5 had been — so here is the first ofiering of my flower borders." Whilst the chaplain and the old gentlewoman have been thus talking they have stepped into the left cloister of the quadrangle, and passing through a wide opening or passage at the side, there lies before them a very broad staircase, with low steps, vast landings, and oaken balustrades ; one of Pick- ford's larirest wafTorons and half-a-dozen wafrooners might pass up it easily abreast. It leads on to a very long, wide gallery, running above the cloister beneath ; one wall looking out by many sunny windows on to the lawn-covered quadrangle, whilst in the other are set oaken doors at even dis- tances, which shut in sacredly some few of the homes of Lady Herbert's Gentlewomen. Bidding Mrs. Boston "good day and a pleasant evening," the chaplain, pausing for a moment in the rich sunlight that pours down from the gal- lery windows on to the spotless floor beneath, opens the book. It is a volume of Tennyson's, and contains the sweet poem of "Lord Bur- leigh." " Weeping late, and weeping early ; Walking up, and walking down ; Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh ; Burleigh House by Stamford Town," Thus much, and more, he reads, the verses having, as it seems, an attractive charm which makes them irresistible ; then, putting the marker in the book again, he closes it and knocks at the door before him. A sentle " come in " invites 6 THE LADY HERBERT S GENTLEWOMEN. him to enter, and in another instant he has closed the door upon the gallery, and is within a very large room, and in the presence of an aged lady, who, seated by one of two sunny casements, has her little work-table before her. On it lie divers small bags and parcels, from which she is select- ing gay-coloured strips of silk, and placing them together in a little heap of radiant hues. But now, pausing in her task, she makes a poor at- tempt to rise in courtesy to her visitor, who, re- pressing her intent, shakes her kindly by the hand, looks with interest on her venerable face, and takes a chair beside her. '^ Here is a little offering from my garden," he says, as he lays down his exquisitely-perfumed bouquet of early flowers ; " and here the book I spoke of when I saw you last. It is a fortnight since then, and you are better, eh? I hear so." " ^es, thank you, Mr. Quatford ; I am even goijig to step beyond my room this afternoon, the first time for seven months. To speak the truth, I would rather be quiet here, but my good friend and neighbour, Mrs. Boston, has a grateful heart, and thus keeps the anniversary of her coming to Shirlot. I, on the contrary, think that these fes- tivals are best hallowed in the sanctity of our own hearts. But this is a matter of taste; and so, with a little aid, I hope to get along the gallery to her room by four o'clock, for the party begins thus early." " Who are the ladies ? " And there is an arch look in the chaplain's face as he asks the question. THE LADY HERBERT S GENTLEWOMEN. 7 " There Is Miss Simpkins, I fear — " " And the parrot ? " interrupts the chaplain, with a smile. " I hope not. Mrs. Boston told me she had made it a proviso that Billy was not to come ; but Miss Simpkins is an audacious sort of woman, and cares little for others' wishes or feelings. Then there is Miss Greo^oj — " ^' And Spark, the poodle," again interrupts the chaplain, still more merrily. "As a matter of course, Mr. Quatford, Lydia Gregg goes nowhere without her dog."" " Well, 1 wish you joy of your gathering. But Miss Thorne ! — I forgot Miss Thorne — is she to be there ? " "Miss Thorne! Mr. Quatford, you forget the woman ! Why, we might as well expect the Archbishop of Canterbury, or a Presbyter of the Synod of Geneva ! She join a set of primitive old women, who drink tea at five o'clock, and begin knitting afterwards ! Oh, no ! She hasn't even dined at so vulgar an hour. For of late, I am told, since some visit she paid in the summer, her pride and state have greatly increased." " Yes, I fancied her bow and manner more stiff and distant than ever to-day. But it is a lament- able picture. Miss Hazlehurst — the saddest, I think, that Shirlot holds. Pride, false pride, sits well upon none of us, more especially If we are poor, old, and dependent ; and here, where It is joined with the utmost Ignorance and bigotry, the case is still worse. Such a nature has no cha- 8 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. rity for others ; in its profound ignorance of what is truth, it judges itself immaculate, and is thus deaf and blind to what might teach. Happy for those who have to come in contact with such diseased, badly organised, and literally degraded natures — happy for themselves, and happily for the advancing weal of humanity, Death at last steps in — Death, that sublimest of the divine mys- teries which surround us —if only for the power inherent in it, of removing stereotyped and imbe- cile opinions from amidst advancing truth, as weeds from springing corn." " Yes, Mr. Quatford, I think with you that the aged are too apt to be narrow and prejudiced, and that they leave the stage not an hour too soon for younger and wiser actors. I often reason with myself when I cannot quite bring my mind to think, or my tastes to agree with, the opinions and things of the present day ; and when unable to rule my judgment, as is, I confess, sometimes the case, I recollect that it can matter but little what /think, whose race is so nearly run. Thus 1 gain charity of thought, at least, by remembering that opinions, like their professors, grow obsolete through time." The chaplain has been watching the sweet old countenance, and he can but gaze at it still. It has been comely through its youth and woman- hood — it is made comely even now by the pre- sence of the serene peace of a well-spent life. It is a face which has looked upon that of Washing- ton — upon those of the heroes of American in- THE LADY HERBEET'S GENTLEWOMEN. 9 dependence — upon man in his savage state — and upon the forests, the rivers, the lakes of one of the noblest countries in the world. It has passed through the scenes of a troublous and hard-fought life — a life whose human joys have been so few as scarce to deserve a reckoning ; and yet here it is at last irradiated by the great light of the kindly heart and peaceful soul within. He can but look, he can but venerate, seeing her seated thus — amidst the blessed hush of this sunny, vernal noon. " Before I left home — " he begins. *' Excuse me, Mr. Quatford — one question; I have been longing to ask it since you first entered the room. How did you speed on the errand for which you left us? How did you leave your nephew? I take the privilege of an old and honouring friend in being so inquisitive." *'Mary Hazlehurst," he says, " is at all times privileged. Why, I found the poor fellow dying, as my letter of summons said, but eminent medical skill and unceasing care at last saved him. Two days ago, I journeyed with him into the south of Devonshire, where he now is, in the house of a tender friend. When he is sufficiently recovered, he will come here for a time. Poor fellow, he had been overworking himself, bodily and mentally, as young men will, and had been living too })arsimoniously, in order to s[)arc me. Yet it is only like him. Islip cannot act other- wise than nobly." ** That is true. Even when a child he was 10 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. manly and straightforward. I recollect his first coming an orphan to you, Mr. Quatford, as though it were but yesterday ; and you well know how in years succeeding he grew to love me and my old room. But it is a long time now since I saw him — five years at least." " Quite ; but youth and idleness are incompati- ble, and there were boyish associations in the neighbourhood that were best severed. Next year he leaves me for a long time, or — as fate perhaps has it — for ever." " Surely not ; I thought his appointment a good one, and engineering work in this country abun- dant." " So it is comparatively, and ordinary minds might settle down to its routine, but not so Islip. He is ambitious, and his nature is such as to need free space for action. A civil appointment, con- nected with railways in India, of great value, though of extraordinary responsibility, that would awe most men, has been offered to his acceptance in the ensuing year, and with my consent he takes it. I had made my mind up to have my only sister's only child within reasonable distance, so as for us to meet occasionally, and have joy in the deep friendship which is ours ; but I found that his spirit had been vexed and chafed by narrow circumstances and narrow controllinor o causes. So I have consented to his acceptance of the appointment, even urged him to accept it, though it will leave me friendless and alone ; and thus, when he is recovered, he will come here — THE LADY HERBEKT's GENTLEWOMEN. 11 stay with me some months — prepare himself in several ways for his duty — and next spring or summer leave me and the old parsonage of Shir- lot for many a year. It will be hard parting with one so truly noble, and the only near relative I have ; but it will be for his good, and that is sovereign over every other consideration to me. In this life, those sacrifices have to be made more or less by all of us. Miss Hazlehurst." " They have, indeed, sir," she replies, with deep feeling, as though remembering the many she has made. "Now," he says, after a moment's pause, "let us speak of more cheerful things. Here is the book I told you of, before I was called away so suddenly from home ; and here, where I have put the marker, is the poem I referred to, when we were talking one day of Lord Essex and Sally Hoggins. You were telling me some par- ticulars of their romantic story, never yet correctly narrated, and here you will find a version of it by our greatest living poet. There are other glorious things in the book, which may make its perusal a joy of joys ; but ' Lord Burleigh ' is a noble story, set to eternal music by a great singer. I daresay, if we only knew them, it is not the only romance of a like kind that our century has known. Not that I think such romances in the ab-tract desirable, for learning and education form together the iuipassable barrier between rank and rank. No lady, I believe, ever married her footman without living 12 to bitterly regret the act ; and few educated men ever married dairymaids, or simple country girls, without results that soon chanc^ed romance into sad prose. But there may be occasional excep- tions. Lord Essex's case was one ; and there may have been others, where nature was affluent in gifts, and the heart of the woman unselfish and loving." " I heard of a case once, Mr. Quatford, and its details were most interesting. It is quite a story, the particulars of which became known to me whilst I was making a brief stay in London some years ago." " A story, Miss Hazlehurst 1 Why not tell it over the tea-table this evening? It would be better than Miss Simpkins' scandal." " It would, indeed, sir ; but I am such a poor story-teller, and many of those invited are such quizzes. To you I can talk without embarrass- ment, because I am accustomed to you, and you are good enough to make excuses for age and infirmity. I could read it if it were written, but my power of consecutive narration is, I fear, all gone."" '^ Shall I ask our clever friend. Miss Morfe, to write it? — I am going to call upon her." ^' She is from home. It is Amy's Easter holidays, and she is gone to London to spend them with her there. To my great pleasure, the dear lady will be back agaiu next week." "Ay, to all our pleasures; for Amy Morfe, the elder, is the shining light of Shirlot. Well, THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 13 shall I write it ? — I will do so much to spare the parrot and scandal. There will be time between this and five o'clock, and Peter, my man, shall bring the paper to Mrs. Boston's room. Now, take up your knitting, you will talk less embar- rassed then, and tell me word for word." She obeys him like a child ; and so, with bent head, and moving fingers, she tells the story of the '^ New Lord Burleigh." When she has ended, the chaplain thanks her, and takes his leave. In twenty minutes more he is quiet in his ancient study — the pen glides across the paper — the sun shines in — the ripple of the little river, as it passes by the oaks of Shirlot, makes music," if he heard. 14 CHAPTER 11. THE KITCHEN. The twenty wooden platters are set on the great oaken table in the kitchen, and dinner is about to be«;in. The twenty Httle maids are ranged on either side — the matron at the head — the teacher at the foot of the table, and a servant, bearing great dishes from the capacious fire-place, sets on the meal. There are large joints of veal, a piece of boiled bacon, batter-pudding and potatoes — for none who partake of Lady Herbert's bounty know what parsimony is. Tliere is wise moderation — but nothing which is mean. "Rhoda!" — and the matron, a gentle but mourn- ful-looking woman of fifty, thus calls a little maid seated some way down the table. This sum- mons:, as though expected, gives instant motion to the prettiest of girlish figures ; and in another mo- ment the little mob-cap beauty — for the sweetest countenance is set in this Puritan garniture — curt- seys before the mistress's chair. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 15 "A dinner to Miss Hazlehurst." This is said sententiously ; but its meaning is fully under- stood. Hereupon Rhoda fetches warm plates from the fire, a tray, and dainty napkin, and again standing before the mistress, curtseys humbly. "Tibb," says the matron — this time calling to a bent and aged woman — who, having helped to serve the dinner, is now about to take her place at an adjoining table, with the old porter or serving- man and another female servant,*' a pint of best ale for Miss Hazlehurst ; " whereupon Tibb, taking a jug from a rack, departs to a distant cellar. By the time she returns the dainty meal is carved, and Rhoda ready to go. **My respects to Miss Hazlehurst," says the matron. " I send her a dinner of which I hope she will partake — I shall be glad to hear if she is better to-day — and add that to-morrow I will call upon her." Thus commissioned, Rhoda curtseys and goes. Across the vast kitchen — so va^^t as to be like a baronial hall — through a wide sunny pas- sage — through the heavy door opening on to the head of the cloister — whence stretches the long vista of arches, pavement, light and shadow — thence into the great passage, through which is seen a prospect of near and rugged liills — and so to the stairs'-foot, up which, with her liospitable burden, the little mob-capped maid begins to go. Then suddenly there comes in from t!ie garden, on the outer side of the hall, a man's heavy step — and a voice calls softly, " Rhoda ! " 16 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. The little maid glances down through the balus- trades, and sees young Mr. Clayton — a farmer living near at hand. He is a wild-looking young fellow ; but Rhoda is somewhat in awe of him — for he is said to be rich, and his sisters dress grandly on Sundays — so she drops a little curtsey — and, blushing red, stays a moment. " Rhoda ! come back." " I can't, sir, I am going to Miss Hazlehurst's." " Will you be long ? If not, I will stay till you come back." '" Please don't, sir — if Mrs. Hutchinson should know I talk to you, she will be very angry. We're all at dinner, and I shall be missed if I am long. Please go ! Miss Jones gave me a heavy task last Monday — for what I don't know, unless it was be- cause you looked at me at church." " Miss Jones ! " he exclaims angrily. " What care I for her? Because my sisters take her up — and she's always pestering at our house — that's no reason why she should sit judge over me. Pll look where I like, and when 1 like ; and now, as you can't stop, will you be by the shrubbery on the outer lawn by four o'clock. Pve something to say to you — you play at that hour ? " ^'' I don't, sir, nor none of the bigger girls. We're going to stay in the hall, for we've some things to make for Mrs. Hutchinson's birth-day." She goes on now, but again he detains her. " Phoda ! I will speak to you, come what may ! I'm very fond of you, for you're lovely. See here what 1 brought you from the town when I last THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 17 went ; " and he exhibits a little glass and pictured work-box, such as might be bought for sixpence, but which is dazzling to the eye of a country-bred and unsophisticated child. ^' Do come, Rhoda, and this shall be yours." It has been one of Rhoda' s school-girl dreams to buy such a little box, and, seeing it, she hesitates. " Do come, Rhoda, it shall be yours then — so don't say no." " I can't come at four o'clock." " Later, then, before it's time for bed." "You won't keep me very long'? — you won't tell anybody?" " Not I ; then we'll say seven — by the shrub- bery on the outer lawn." She scarcely says " yes," for she is conscious she is consenting to what is wrong; but the young man, interpreting the answer his own way, nods his head and goes. Less quick of foot than hereto- fore, she ascends the stairs slowly, for a shadow seems to go before her, and a weight to lie upon her hitherto happy spirit. " If I take the box," she thinks, " I must tell a story about it, for all the children will be asking me where I got it." Thus pondering, she gains the gallery and taps at the door. When she enters, the old lady, moving with pain and great slowness, is spreading a little table for her frugal dinner. The cloth is on, and going to and fro to two capacious closets, one on either side the fire-place, and as large as the rooms of a small-sized Loudon houae, she is bring- VOL. I. C 18 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. inc: thlno's thence ; she has also recourse to two safes, which, ornamented with paper, and some- what out of keeping with a lady's sitting-room, are nailed ag^ainst the wall. After the manner of the bed in Goldsmith's "Deserted Village" they are, An escritoire or box to view — In truth, a pantry fit for mutton cold, Or even dainty stew. But w^e have not yet seen the aristocratic rooms in Shirlot — in due time they w^ill be open to our entrance. Nevertheless, Miss Hazlehurst's room is large and vastly comfortable. Walls as thick as those of a Norman donjon keep out all cold ; they are neatly papered, and a carpet bespreads the floor, little queer amateur water- colour drawings of the Minerva-press school, framed in paper, and the gift of loving nieces, adorn the walls. There is a roomy sofa, and tables with oil-cloth covers, and a set of hanging book- shelves, decked in yellow muslin to keep out dust and flies; and there are comfortable chairs and the bed-place, or recess just large enough to hold a bed, a chest of drawers and washstand, is hidden from view by a sweeping green curtain. There is old china on the mantel-shelf, and a glowing fire in the grate. But the old lady her- self is the gem and prize of her room : well-bred, gentle, simple, unsuspicious, affectionate — a noble woman, made nobler by a life of many tears. "If you please, ma'am," says little Rhoda, dropping her habitual curtsey, " Mrs. Hutchinson THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 19 has sent you a dinner, which she hopes you will enjoy." And Rhoda, uncovering the plate, shows the nice viands, and then stooping to the fire she places them before it to keep them warm. Miss Hazlehurst is very fond of pretty Rhoda, and this thouo-htful act adds to her tender feelinor. o o "Thank you — you're a good child, Rhoda. I am sure it is very kind of Mrs. Hutchinson thus bearing me in memory, for it was only on Monday that I had a nice dinner of roast beef. Pray, give my grateful thanks." " If you please, ma'am, I was to ask you how you do to-day." " Say better, if you please, and that I am even going out to tea this evening to Mrs. Boston's. How is Mrs. Hutchinson — more cheerful, I hope, this sunny day?" "No, ma'am," replies Rhoda, innocently; "she was crying bitterly last niijht, and this morning too — indeed, she was too low-spirited to attend service. I think it is some fresh trouble about her son ; for Mr. Shugborough, the druggist, came over from the town yesterday, and he spoke very sternly, and said he could bear it no longer. In reply Mrs. Hutchinson said that he should leave, and she would try and get him a place in Lon- don. I was goino: into the room with some ale and glasses, and heard this." " Well, let it go no further — with me it is safe, but there are those at Shirlot who, I am sorry to say, though they eat the divine bread of charity, C 2 20 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. are not kindly when another's woe is in the case." Thus saying no more, for she is too rigidly conscientious to ask questions or elicit gossip, Miss Hazlehurst moves aside to the little table by which she sat when Mr. Quatford paid his visit an hour before, and, taking up the little shining heap of silk, gives it to the little beauty in the quaint garb. " Here, Rhoda, these are all for you. I know Mrs. Hutchinson's birthday is near at hand, and that her scholars make her needle-books and pin- cushions for the occasion, so I have been looking up my treasures. They are pieces of the dresses and ribbons I wore in days when I was not as old and as troublesome as now. So take them, Rhoda — you are so good a child to me." Rhoda is entranced — the riches seem so infinite. None but those who know the heart of a school-girl can tell the exquisite pleasure these little vanities give. No Eastern despot, with his jewels round him, has half the joy. " Oh, dear, ma'am," says Rhoda, dropping the gratefuUest and profoundest curtsey she ever made, ^' I cannot thank you enough — I never saw such beautiful silk in my life before. This very morning Caroline Brown and I were saying that if we had some nice silk we would make Mrs. Hutchinson a bag. And here's enough for a bag and many things beside. I am sure I cannot show you how grateful I am !" " Yes, Rhoda, by being always a good child. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 21 Never tell a lie, nor let others persuade you to do deceitful thiugs. They lead to suffering and evil, my dear; and your remembrance of my words will be precious to you when I've long passed away." These words are spoken in no particular sense, but they wound a tender conscience as though they were. Faltering "no," and trembling as she falters^ the aged eyes, were they less dim, would see that evil, in some one of its countless shapes, had already touched the heart of innocence. The keenness of her joy has waned — fear molests her peace — and hurriedly rolling up the little heap of silk, she puts it into her pocket, makes her curtsey, and goes. "Rhoda," calls the old lady, as the door is about to close, "give my respects to Mrs. Hut- chinson, and say if she will permit you to come after school to hook my dress and pin my brooch, I shall be obliged — for Mrs. Stephens, my woman, has gone to hoe her potatoes to-day, and will not be here till evening." " Yes, ma'am." And the little trembling maid goes forth in the shadows which lie before her. Her nice dinner partaken of, part of the ale bottled for the morrow, the things cleared away, her nap taken, her best dress laid forth, with quaint lace and ruffles, and other little adorn- ments, it is just four o'clock. Rhoda cominijj again, the old gentlewoman dresses, and then locking her door, goes forth along the gallery. 22 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. assisted by her pretty friend and Mrs. Boston, who, watching for the purpose, hastens to assist her. Thus, in the sweet shadows of the evening, she treads the gallery — the first time for seven long months, and looking, as in some Rembrandt picture, the perfect lady which she is. 23 CHAPTER III. MRS. boston's room — THE NEW LORD BURLEIGH. A MINOR episode must have space ere we enter Mrs. Boston's room, and approach the tea-table, charmingly set forth with the best china and the sweetest cake. Rio-ht gallery — room nine — does not in the least look as though it belonged to Shirlot, or Ladj Herbert's gentlewomen. Miss Sophia Simp- kins is frigid, censorious, and parsimonious. To save is the great end of her being — to malign the jjreat iov of her heart. Born in the rank of a gentlewoman, she is a lady neither in principle, education, nor spirit. She is at war with all the world ; and, as she supposes, all the w^orld with her. Hence her intense bitterness of spirit : she loves nobody, she cares for nothing — except — except Billy, her parrot. On this sage gentle- man she expends all the little warmth of her frosty nature, and two-pence a week for seed. He is the ftole companion of her solitary days. 24 It is approaching four o'clock, and Sophia is dressing. Just at this moment — perhaps we ought not thus to intrude into the mystery of a lady's boudoir, only truth, as the axiom has it, is truth — she is robed in her petticoat, which is a defunct dress, still enriched with furbelows ; her neck — '^tall as a poplar-tree " — is bare, and her locks, scanty and unadorned, are gathered together on the top of her head by a comb. She is thus what gamins would call " a reg'lar fright ! " But being alone, and unconscious of critical eyes — except they be those of Billy, who, reposing on his perch, seems to wickedly regard her —she leans against the fire-place ; whilst before her, on the table, lie three dresses, but lately produced from an ancient box beneath the bed. They are amazingly old-fashioned, and dingy in hue, for they formed part of the wardrobe of a very old aunt — dead at least thirty years — but this is of no account to Sophia, who, so she saves, is perfectly content. To her fashion is nothing, for in her bitterness of spirit she habitually contemns everything modern or new. Now, as she dehberately chooses to pass her days in solitude — except when she can take tea, and talk scandal, at others' expense — she has fallen into a sad habit of talking to herself, and, forgetting the adage that walls have ears, con- fides the tenderest secrets of her heart to Billy. That twinkling-eyed gentleman, thus treated to so much human speech, is learned therein, and treasuring up vast stores thereof in his pate, asks THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 25 questions and makes replies, often at seasons most inopportune. But then, for the major part of his days, his mistress is the only listener. " Which shall I put on ? " soliloquizes Sophia, for the fourth or fifth time, as she stands regard- ing with great veneration these antique treasures of her wardrobe; "shall it be the brown, the black, or the yellow ? " " Put on ! — put on ! — put on ! " screams the parrot. " Billy, if you talk thus, I'll leave you at home, sir; you'll be making some dreadful mistake, I'm sure." ** No, no ! " croaks the gentleman ; for he is cunninsr enouo'h to see that his mistress is cross. "Hush!" she says; and having thus, as she thinks, silenced her loquacious friend, she again communes with herself thus: " I think I'll put on— I think I'll put on — ^" " The yellow ! " screams Billy. As this advice coincides with her own opinion, she only shakes her head, by way of monition, as it were ; then losing no further time, she arranges herself in the yellow stuff gown, and a cap gaily trimmed with brilliant red ; this done, she stores away the precious gowns as though they were pearls of price ; rakes out her little scrap of fire, and prepares to go. " Now, sir," she says, as, approaching Billy, she takes him off his perch, " you're going with me, though Mrs. Particular said not. But I do hope you'll behave yourself. I shall leave you 26 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. with one of the children for half-an-hour, then she can bring you to the door, and say you won't be good alone." Billy, who understands enough of human speech to know that the antithesis of good is bad, screams out, " Bad, bad !— I'll be bad ! " "No, you'll be good; and you shall come just as we're in the middle of tea, and have some sugar." This is a musical word to the parrot's ear. " Yes, yes ! " he croaks, ^' Billy likes sugar ! " "Ay! my dear," comforts his mistress, "you shall have the biggest lump in the basin. Poor dear ! you don't often taste it, for missis can't afford it." " No ! " croaks Billy. " But it shall have a nice lump to-day. Why, that's why I accepted the invitation, for there'll be little enough entertainment, and nothing better than a crisp biscuit and ginger-wine, before one comes away, unless it be a sermon from that old woman, Hazlehurst, who's only been ill in order to get charity dinners. Not take you ! Mrs. Particular shall see that Sophia Simpkins is not to be dictated to." Having thus delivered her opinions of her friends, Sophia takes her familiar on her finger, and, locking her door, goes. Passing down the gallery and staircase, and thence to the outer lawn, which is in fact a small park, dotted with oaks once forming part of the THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 27 ancient forest of Shirlot, and divided from the highway, towards which it rapidly slopes by a shrubbery, a wall, and a lodge, she summons one of the children from her play, and delivering Billy, with divers threats if he is not taken care of, she bids that he be brought to Mrs. Boston's door in half-an-hour from that time, with infor- mation to the effect " that he's screaming himself to death, and has had to be brought." Keturning to the hall, by a route through the shrubbery and gardens. Miss Simpkins at length reaches Miss Boston's room, where she finds the ladies assembled. Including herself they are eight in number. ^' Well, my dear," says Mrs. Boston, welcoming her bitter friend with great cordiality, '' it is very kind of you thus to come, and help me to keep one of the happiest days I ever knew. I only wait for you to make the tea. And, my dear, it is really very good of you not to bring that parrot, he is so very noisy and troublesome." " Oh," answers Sophia, tartly, " I find him a good creature. But, alas ! I fear he'll pine him- self to death, so if I am summoned away, or he's brought here, you must forgive me." Then, assuming a lugubrious air, she takes her seat. A little vexed at this prospect of Billy's visit, the good old motherly lady makes tea ; and her company gathering round the table, they are soon enjoying the pleai-ant meal. The tea being of particular excellence, Mrs. Boston relates to them how it forms part oF a small chest her good son in China sent her a while before ; and this topic of her children entered upon, it proves a fertile one, for she has much to tell about her newly-married daughter in Northumberland, and of another who is a Government schoolmistress in Cornwall. But this innocent sort of conversation, not being re- lished by Miss Sophia, is interrupted after a short interval. *' Can any of you tell," she asks, " what that young Clayton hangs about the hall for? I saw him last night, and I saw him again to-day, when I was in my garden sowing mustard and cress. He's after no good, I'm sure of it." '^ I see no harm in it," replies Miss Hazlehurst. "Perhaps he had to speak to Mrs. Hutchinson — or to old Harris. It is best not to judge our neighbours, Miss Simpkins." "Perhaps not, but I keep my opinion still. After one of the bigger girls, I daresay. That Rhoda, or Lucy, or Julia. Pretty impudent they're becoming — never curtseying to me^ though they do so to others like slaves." " Well, for my part," speaks Miss Sal way, a sweet and true gentlewoman, " I do not court hu- miliating reverence from any one." " Nor I, but I like due respect," replies Sophia, tartly, " when I am one of the ladies longest here. As to that fellow Clayton, we all just know what he is — and what happened last year to the dairy- maid." " Well, we'll talk of something else," says Mrs. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 29 Boston. " For once, Miss Simpklns, we'll not blacken our neighbour's character." An altercation would in all probability ensue, but there comes a divertisement in the shape of a knock at the door; and Sophia, being conscious that Billy is there, keeps the Queen's peace. " Please, ma'am," says a little treble voice, as Mrs. Boston opens the door, " the parrot's making himself ill with screaming. He would be brought, it wasn't to be helped." Waiting till this is said, but no longer, Sophia hurries to the door, in a pretended flutter of sur- prise mingled with pity, for she fears a negative which she will not be able to gainsay. ^' Dear, dear ! I am very sorry ! Billy, you should have been good ! But, poor thing, it mustn't scream itself to death — it must come in and have a lump of sugar.*" " Yes ! yes ! " croaks Billy, " a lump of sugar !" Waiting, therefore, for neither dissent nor as- sent, ^liss Simpkins brings her favourite in, and, perching him on the back of her chair, dives her hand into the sugar basin, selects and gives him the biggest lump, and resumes her seat and her tea — whilst the good-natured mistress of the room, judging, perhaps, that peace is the wiser policy, makes no comment, and hides her fears by busy hospitality. Chat is resumed — pleasant chat upon divers in- nocent topics — when again the bitter drop is in- fused. " What's Mrs. Hutchinson so miserable about ? 30 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLE WOMEIS". Her eyes were as red as poppies when I went into the hall kitchen this morning. Is it that ne'er-do-well son of hers again"?" " I suppose it is," replies Mrs. Rutland, an old lady w^ho loves gossip as boys love gingerbread, that is, will make it theirs when they can ; ^' old Shugborough was over here yesterday, for his gig was standing in the stable -yard, and after that I saw him cross the inner lawn." " Oh, yes, it's pretty easy to guess why he came," says Sophia ; '' for that boy, George Hut- chinson, is as bad as can be. When I last went to Temeford I heard of his always being at the ' Swan ; ' and as for debts, it w^as wonderful how a lad not more than nineteen could have contracted so many. That wasn't all either, for his master had been losing books and other things in a very strange way, and — " " A bit of sugar — a little bit of sugar ! " cries the parrot. There is a sweet needed elsewhere — the honey- drop of charity ; and there are hearts there who judge so. " I w^ould rather not. Miss Simpkins, that w^e spoke of these things," remarks Mrs. Boston ; " w^omen who have been mothers know that they must make allowance for their children's frailties. Mrs. Hutchinson is a sincere and worthy woman, our true friend without exception ; and that she has an only child who is wild and reckless is a matter for our silent pity, and not our bitter com- THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEX. 31 "We eat the bread of Lady Catherine Her- bert," says Miss Hazlehurst, a little stiffly, for the old orentlewoinan is rather inclined to assume a Justice-of-the-Peace air when she reproves — ''and her head minister for eighteen years has a right to our charitable thouo-hts, if nothino; more." " She has indeed," adds Miss Salway ; " for good judges consider that she has filled a difficult position very worthily ; and we all of us, when we open our doors, have some skeleton beyond the threshold." " I suppose so," is Sophia's tart reply. Then not a whit abashed, she mollifies her humour by a fresh dip into the sugar. As tea is now over, Mrs. Boston — prudential motives connected with her sugar-basin partly in- ducing — hastens to remove the things. AVhen this is eifected, the table is drawn near the fire, the candles are lighted, though it is yet a little early, and the ladies, gathering round, produce their needlework and knittino;. Just at this happy moment, and when Miss Hazlehurst is dreading a recurrence to topics best left unmeddled with, there is a knock at the door, and at the words " Come in," a smart young fel- low enters and delivers a packet, or large letter, to Miss Hazlehurst. " Master's very sorry to be thus late with what he sends, but the writing took longer than he ex- pected." As Peter, the chaplain's servant, makes this speech, all the ladies look wondcringly, excc])t the 32 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. three initiated in the pleasant secret — to whit, Miss Hazlehurst, Miss Sal way, and Mrs. Boston. "My grateful compliments to your master," replies the former, " and say I am extremely obliged." When Peter has made his respectful bow, and is gone, Miss Hazlehurst opens the packet. " Ladies," she says, " here is a story you may like to hear. Mr. Quatford has been good enough to write it out from my narration, for the greater portion of it is perfectly true, and was told me by the landlord of a house where I lodged some years ago, in London. I might have been unable to re- peat it to you pleasantly from mere memory, for that, old as I am, is at times a little treacherous, but thus written in worthier language than is mine, the beginning will flow on evenly to the end. Ladles, whilst listening to this little history we shall be innocently employed— the sorrows and trials of our neighbours' lives will be kept sacred from unworthy comment, and the time may pass pleasantly by. With your leave I will now begin." Delightedly they all say " Yes," \\ ith the ex- ception of Miss Simpkins, who, bending her head down to her knitting, gives a little derisive sniff — implying thereby as plainly as may be, " Go on with your nonsense, but I'll have my laugh, won't I?" So the story is read. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 33 THE NEAV LORD BURLEIGH. After a low knock, which remained unanswered, she entered the bedchamber, for it was ten o'clock, and the gentleman had risen. Yes, to fill anew the porcelain ewer, fold the rich silk curtains, spread the laced pillows of the bed, and with poor, coars'3, hireling hand, minister, ngain and again, to the luxury and comfort of the unr^een and the unre- garding. As she looked round the room with natural curiosity — for the gentleman had only ar- rived at this '' Jamble's " fashionable west-end hotel the night before — there was, instead of the ordinary display of gorgeous waistcoats, many coats, pipes, sticks, gloves, nothing more than a very old portmanteau, still strapped up and locked, and a foreign cap and Turkish pipe on a chair near it. The little housemaid stood surprised by these signs of poverty ; for poverty was a thing against which Mrs. Jamble herself, and Millicent her niece, and Gloss the head-waiter, and Miss Dust the upper-housemaid, all severally and in combi- nation waged war ; therefore, to suppose that it could by any chance cross with its cold foot the aristocratic steps of "Jamble's," was about as much a probability as to expect an ele})hant tucked up a>leep in its richest silken curtained bed. As it was but a glance from the poor portmanteau to the cap, and the pipe, on to the toilet, on which swung the rich mirror with its waxen lights, she saw with new surprise a vase of purest marble VOL. L D 34 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. standing there, fashioned in the shape of a rustic pitcher, held up by a tripping Naiad of the foun- tain. But it was not the lucent marble, or the god- dess, or the pitcher, or the ivy leaves, or the droop- ing vine, or the Bacchanals sculptured thereon, that she regarded v\^ith surprise, for the untaught heart knew nothing of these things, but that some hand, whether rich or poor, whether young or old, had not scornfully trodden down a flower she had dropped the over-night, when performing some little offices about the room, but had carefully placed it with water in this beautiful fountain. It was no- thing more than a simple bit of gilliflower, which most would have trodden down unregardingly. Whose foot was thus o-entle? — whose hand was thus graceful? — whose heart thus loved the beau- tiful ? What country did this garlanded pitcher come from ? — what story did it involve ? — was he stern, or old or young ? Who was he ? What was he ? As in this way she thought busily, Meg, the little housemaid, tripped quickly and lightly about her duties, and never did poor coarse hand, yet withal woman's, spread more carefully pillow and curtain and cloth ; for the flower, not trodden scornfully down, linked something new of interest and duty to the daily round of indifference and hireling service. As she came back to and fro to where the vase stood, she saw a pair of strong leather gloves lying beside it ; and as was very natural, she took them up, and saw that one was rent. Out from her pocket was quickly brought the little huswife, and a thimble and black thread, THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 35 and turning her back to the door, lest Miss Dust, on her governing perambulations, should peep, and discover, and cannonade, busily needle and thread went to mend the rent ; it was but small duty for the grace of the untrodden flower. Thus stand- ing, with her ear quite alive to Miss Dust's pro- gressions, a stifled sound from the adjoining room was followed by another and another, till these deepened into a man's low cry of pain. Her first impulse was to open the separating door, and she had made a step towards it, when the recollection of Miss Dust's suspicious and tale-bearing propen- sities, and the lively clamour that would arise in Mrs. Jamble's parlour were such a circumstance known, stayed her hand, and, after a minute's hesitation, she passed from the bed-room on to tlie corridor to call a waiter. Miss Dust was safe in her little soap, candle, duster, brush, and linen- bedecked room, and in full depth and logic of a towel argument with one of the six housemaids ; and looking down over the balustrades, she saw Shark the waiter, who attended to the " southern suite," leaning napkin in hand over the bar window. She called, but as the one portmanteau had already been a matter for deep consultation between himself and the hall porter, he merely made answer with a cool " presently," and went on with his gossip. Going back quickly to the bedchamber, the same low cry of pain met her ear, and without thinking further of Miss Dust or Mrs. Jamble, she opened the door, looked, and, without stopping, went in. It was the richly D 2 36 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. furnished ante -chamber of a drawing-room, partly- darkened by the sun-blinds outside ; for it was summer time and the heisrht of the London season. On a table placed near one of the windows an untasted breakfast was yet spread, for the tea, though poured out, had grown cold in the cup, and neither knife nor fork had touched the rich dishes ; but some of these had been pushed aside, to make standing room for two or three fragments of marvellous Greek sculpture, and beside the teacup lay a very old volume of Greek poetry. But the little housemaid might have been blind for what she saw of these — the whole spectacle within the room was the gentleman lying insensi- ble upon the low couch beside the table. Tremb- ling and hesitating, she lightly touched his cold, rio^id hands ; then bolder orown as fear was absorbed by sympathy, she gently raised his dark- hued face upon the pillow, and stepped back to the toilet for a glass of water. With this she lightly laved his lips and hands, thinking that if he were suddenly to recover and look up, he might take this small act of mercy to be large in self-interest, or otherwise evil from one so poor and rude. Yet it was pure and womanly. As she stood thus, her fear increasing as she looked down upon this man's stern and haughty face, the door opened and Mr. Shark slipped in. His first care, after shaking his head and glancing at the girl, was to make a pirouette round the breakfast- table, and after duly peeping into the cream-ewer and sugar-basin, and counting the silver forks^ he THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 37 gave a yawn, put his hands behind him, and stepped up to the couch. *' Bad in the night, I b'lleve ; bad agin now," mused Mr. Shark coolly, as if some very important idea had just come to mind ; ^^but with one port- manteau, too — that'll never do. Jamble's ain't easily done, and so, my dear, you'll put on your best bonnet and take a walk next Sunday — that you will." " I'm sure," replied the little housemaid, trem- bling still more, " I only came in because I sup- posed the gentleman was ill, and then only " " You will walk — it's quite settled that, my dear," winked Shark significantly, "or Dust and Jamble '11 be a-putting their precious heads to- gether about you doing sich a thing as stepping into the gentleman's room, eh ? — won't they ? " And so saying, and making a very strange hiero- glyphic with his nose and fingers, possibly imply- ing some further private opinion respecting the solitary " portmanteau," he slipped again from the room, and soon returned, not foremost, but in the wake of a large fat pompous man, and a tall, shrivelled, long-necked, woman, whilst rearward of himself were three or four junior waiters, and a crowd of wonderinfj housemaids, most of whom were armed with some insiijnia of office, such as a duster or a brush. " One portmanteau and two or three small boxes only, I think you said," coughed Gloss significantly, touching the lifeless hands of the sick gentleman with his flabby fingers, " and came 38 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. at seven last nlo^ht in nothlnfj better than a hired cabriolet ? " " Yes, sir — and had a bottle of soda water, sir — and went to bed directly, sir." " He — m ! " coughed Gloss, still more doubt- fully. " Of course ." " I'm sure," interrupted Miss Dust, drawing up her figure as if she were shouldering a musket, ^'illnesses as is doubtful paying doesn't do for Jamble's, and to add'em gratis to the superin- tending of linen and candlesticks '11 never do, for a hotel isn't to be tj^ot throLio:h as if it was a private house, where works is reg'lar, and times and seasons the same, so-^ ." " I think, ma'am," spoke little Meg, who, true to her womanly nature, still stood behind the couch with the o:lass of water, " that the oentle- man is exceedingly ill, and ought to have a doctor." Miss Dust looked at little Meg, and Mr. Gloss looked, mob-capped housemaids looked, and Shark winked at the preposterous suggestion of supposed unpaid charity. " The imperance of lower housemaids," gasped Dust, "shows that wickitniss is a thing as grows as fast as gooseberries, and suggesting a doctor instead of beinor a-cleanino^ and makino^ No. 14, is " " A doctor," reasoned Gloss, drowning with his deeper bass Dust's shrill treble, "involves respon- sibility, and a doctor might be safely called in to a carriage and an imperial, but to a hack cab and one portmanteau, it's doubtful." THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 39 *^Let him have a cab and be drove some- v^^here," commanded Miss Dust, *'so it's not having sicknesses as is unpaid for at Jamble's; and sheets and laced pillow-slips, No. 37, Jamble's, 1852, equally " " J3ut if I might respectfully suggest," said a little stout waiter, rising on his tiptoes, so as just to get a glance of the gentleman over Miss Dust's shoulders, " portmantoes and boxes isn't al- ways " " Full," interrupted one of Miss Dust's favourite satellites; "as in a si-ti-a-tlon where I took and left upper works, five big boxes, as were particu- larly heavy, turned out nothing but stones, so that the " " Of a banking-book," continued the fat waiter, respectfully ; '^ and as for the sick gentleman, he may have been on foreign travel." *'He — m," coughed Gloss, a little ashamed that this sagacious idea should have been lost sight of by himself, during the carrying out of the suspicion respecting the portmanteau, " pro- bably. In that case, why ." "There!" exclaimed Miss Dust, stopping her official colleague full short, " don't let an imper- sition be a-coming over you ; it wouldn't sin- ni-fy, Mr. Gloss, as the young womens here knows if you could take and leave upper works yourself, but when it's the sheets and laced pillow-slips, as well as " "Hush, hush ! " spoke Gloss, with an imperious wave of his hand, for the idea of foreign travel 40 THE LADY HERBERT'S GP:NTLEW0MEN. now fully occupied his mind ; and during this last Dust-interruption he had looked round upon the breakfast-table, and noticed the fragments of sculpture standing thereon ; " them spinx-ses and arms there, look something like it, so it may be such a thing as a well-paying gentle- man travelling. Jist therefore be sprinkling his face carefully, whilst I step to Mrs. Jamble." Intent upon this praiseworthy and cautious re- solve, Mr. Gloss stepped from the room, leaving little Meg to renew her foregone act of mercy ; but Miss Dust, now rather shaken in her opinion of " impersition," undertook the Samaritanal office herself, with such enthusiasm as in a few minutes to exhaust the whole contents of the wa- ter-bottle upon the face of the sick man, and to have dismissed Meg to the official duties of No. 14, with an intimation that she should speak to her in private. Mrs. Jamble's sitting-room, though somewhat dark, and placed at the rear of the house, was ex- cessively snug and well-furnished. It was indeed over-furnished, being clearly the receptacle for any supernumerary sofa or table from more ex- alted regions. It had two sideboards, two sofas, a taper-legged pianoforte, a large desk with in- numerable small drawers, and round its top little brass hooks, with prodigious bunches of keys hang- ing thereon ; all duly labelled and ticketed, and conveying notions of remote cellars brimful of excellent wine ; of chests where plate was hoarded THE LADY HEr.BEKT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 41 up ; of deep closets crowded with all sorts of luxu- rious dainties ; and, as a climax, of a well-filled cash-box over and above assets and Three-per- Cents. Mrs. Jamble was seated at this desk, already dressed for the day in a matronly cap and rich satin gown, occu[)ied in transferring into a laroje ijreen-backed ledsjer before her the blotted hieroglyphics of divers little books lying at her left hand ; and Millicent, her niece, a young lady dressed in very airy muslin, was seated near, knitting a purse, and occasionally assisting Mrs. Jamble to decipher the aforesaid hieroglyphics. Miss Millicent gave a little affected cough, and simpered, " Pray, come in," when Gloss knocked and entered ; for Mr. Wiggs, the wine-merchant, was expected on business, and this circumstance might account for the taper-legged piano-forte being already open, and " Tell me, my heart," conspicuously set forth — Mr. Wiggs being musi- cal, and a supposed admirer. The head-waiter, after some circumlocution, got out his doubts about the sick gentleman, the responsibility of a doctor, the hired cab, and the solitary portmanteau. In s[)ite of a very tolera- ble heart beneath the black satin gown, ^Irs. Jamble, imbued with due caution, was rather inclining toward the Dust-opinion, when Miss ^Millicent, totally irreverent to Mr. Wiggs' sup- posed admiration, exclaimed — "I'm sure, aunt, if it's the one I accidentally saw from Dust's room last night, with a beautiful dark, intellectual, yet, alas ! melancholy lace, I'm 42 sure he's a gentleman. Perhaps a foreign prince in disguise." ^' Well, miss and ma'am," spoke Gloss, with a dignity that im[)lied that this idea was originally his own, '^though I ain't got up quite so far as a prince, this is jlst my opinion; and, of course, if he's bad, we must nat'rally try to find his friends ; and as I felt he'd got a pocket-book as I was untying his neckcloth, why — why — why, we'd better open it, and this, ma'am, in your pre- sence." After some little hesitation — for there was good, as I have said, in the worldly heart of Mrs. Jamble — she consented to visit the sick gentle- man's room ; and accordingly, after adjusting her gold eye-glass and chain, and unfolding a very white and tine cambric pocket-handkerchief, she proceeded leisurely up the grand staircase, fol- lowed by her niece, the head-waiter, and even by Mr. WIggs, who had just arrived. The sick gentleman still lay insensible upon the couch, the group yet standing round him, with the exception of little Meg, who had been summarily dismissed to the duties of No. 14; the only alteration being in Miss Dust, w^ho, on the approach of Mrs. Jamble, had now assumed a neutral aspect of face, as well as position, near the couch, so as to be ready, at a moment's notice, to express either charitable commiseration or her full idea of " impersition." After a cough, and a look at his mistress and the wine-merchant, Mr. Gloss drew forth the THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 43 gentleman's pocket-book. It was a large Russia leather one, bound by a strap — nothing in it to rivet every eye as it did; but on its opening depended whether there should be laced or plain pillow-slips, or none at all; whether the far-down cellar should produce its richest wines ; whether Mr. Gloss should be profoundly respectful; whether Mr. Shark civil; whether Mr. Wiggs should give a favourable opinion ; whether Milli- cent should still entertain the same sentimental idea oF beauty ; wliether there should be a phy- sician grave and learned ; and, lastly, whether in extremity should minister the poor coar?e hire- ling, yet withal tenderest-fashioned hand of Nature's woman, and bring in action once, and once again, the true and touching story of Lord Burleigh. In a moment all was solved ; out dropped upon the lifeless hands a roll of bank-notes, and in an inner pocket lay, with a cheque for a large amount upon a London bank, a diamond ring of immense value, just thrust carelessly in as if its price were of no account. There were no cards, no address, no private papers, except what were written in some foreign language, and no other name than the one the gentleman had given the over night of Verdun, plainly written "John Verdun " on one of the leaves. But the bank-notes were quite tangibility and name enough ; for here lay princely resources, were the sickness to be lengthened out to days, days into weeks, and weeks into the monotony of months. 44 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. Like the chancres of a mamc lantern from dark to light, every hue was now upon the rosy side of charity and love ; the only one left upon the dark side was Mr. Wiggs, in the opinion of IMiss Millicent. The one th it commenced directly the new overture of charity was Miss Dust, the rest having sense enough to feel that a pause and line of gradation were necessary. Therefore, whilst Mrs. Jamble and Mr. Wiofofs talked aside as to the several merits of learned physicians in Saville Row, Hanover Square, Old and New Burlington Streets, Mr. Gloss listening respect- fully, so as himself to act in a moment on their decision. Miss Dust was deep into the matter of the very finest sheets, such as were only now and then used for the service of a marquis or a duke, the very shadiest night-lamp (I verily believe, too, in her charitable enthusiasm there was inci- dental mention of a warming-pan, though it was the very height' of June), with divers other minuter matters, concluded by a pretty copious summary of her own tender and "blissid- babe-llke feelings," and how "dooty in sick- nesses was, as every one knew, a part in her nature." Acting promptly upon these charitable intents, she proceeded forthwith to the bedchamber to undo all which little Meof had so lately done ; and exorcise the gentle spirit that hung around the spring of wall-flower. Added to this, her staff of maids were dispersed hither and thither upon immediate service for the sick gen- tleman ; a peremptory message sent down to the THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEX. 45 kitchen respecting the probability of needed gruel ; whilst in person this Samaritanal Dust kept com- ing back every five minutes to the drawing-room on tiptoe, to look over the couch, to sigh, and put her ear down tenderly as if she were listening to the breathings of a babe. The physician decided upon soon arrived, and was received by Mrs. Jamble, the room being now cleared of all but herself, INIr. Wiggs, and Gloss, who had hastened back from his important mission with astonishing celerity, considering the u>ual pomp and slowness of his movements. The very first words the physician uttered, when he had taken the rigid hand of the sick gentleman into his own, were expressive of regret that he had not been sent for earlier, as the syncope was of a most dangerous character. This opinion be- coming more confirmed, another physician was sent for, the attendance of a neighbouring surgeon required, and in a few^ minutes the unknown gen- tleman, whose life or death had, to a certain ex- tent, hung upon the condition of his pocket-book, was surrounded by all needful care and skill. After expressing much sympathy, and promising that every attention should be given, ]Mrs. Jamble retired to her parlour, to find Mr. Wiggs much discomfited, and going over his own '^ List of Prices " by way of amusement, and Miss Milli- cent in a meditative humour, as she was just then in the full concoction of a pretty little i o- mtmce of marriage, in which she figured as the heroine, and the sick gentleman as the hero. 46 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. Far nearer death than any episode of life, how- ever fraught with human interest, was the un- known gentleman. He lay still insensible, though bled, though resting on the extraordinary laced pillows, though watched over by the noble and disinterested physician first called in ; and still was lying whilst the glorious summer's day waned on ; whilst evening deepened into night ; whilst this night seemed faster to roll on to the unknown and mighty ocean of eternity. By this time one of the ^^ Gamp " sisterhood had been duly inducted into office, Miss Dust's earnest entreaty to fully undertake its duties having been negatived by Mrs. Jamble. But as she reasoned " that superinten- dency after other works was a Christian's dooty," she about 12 p.m. entered the sick chamber, duly robed in deep-frilled nightcap and ''sitting-upgown," and armed with a large prayer-book and rushlight, having first spent an hour, as was her custom, in Miss Millicent's bed-room. The great subject of confabulation had been of course on this particular night the sick gentleman, his pocket-book, and the doings of the small housemaid, whom Miss Dust denounced as " bold and artful," and "much too aw^kward for a sick chamber ; " whereas the simple reason was her determination that there should be no extraneous participation in the rich gifts that might flow foith from the marvellous contents of the sick gentleman's pocket-book. But quite unconscious of the mercenary hopes and fears that were active round his pillow — of the relieved guard of the "Gamp" sisterhood, THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEAVOMEN. 47 mornlnor and ninjht — of Miss Dust's boV)blnfTs in and out, sweet and tender expressions, and small ministry of various kinds — lay the sick gentleman for many days. Not wholly neglected either by Mrs. Jamble, wlio every day at noon, in her richest black satin, made personal inquiries, she having by this time, from certain small circum- stances, invested the unknown gentleman with a mighty heirsliip, which investiture, duly related and commented on to her niece, went far to en- rich the Millicent romance and the Dust enthusi- asm. In fact, this alteration inordinary Dust-tactics soon completely took the domestic household by surprise, of a very [)leasurable kind most assur- edly, for the peepings, the plottings, the war of words, the tattlings, were reduced to a minimum, and never before had the six lean housemaids found " Jamble's" such a paradise. From the morning of the rare upraised fountain, and the untrodden flower, number fourteen and thereabouts had been the allotted land of the small housemaid, who, besides any entry into the sick gentleman's chamber, was forbidden, by the sternness of Dust- morality, to make even inquiry of any sort or description. But Truth and Nature, small housemaid, are divine qualities, never to be wholly submerged in the ocean of Dust-tactics and cunning ; therefore the hours waned on for thee and thy pure life's comedy of tenderness and truth ! The gentleman had now been under Dust and Gamp-sister ministry some ten days, when one 48 THE LADY HEKBERT's GENTLEWOMEN. morning, about 2 o'clock a.m., Miss Dust was aroused from a deep snooze behind the curtain by the nurse, much to her mortification and dis- pleasure, for she had instilled into the household, that such was the intense wide-awake state of her sympathies and feelings, tliat she never winked an eye, much less dropped off into uncharitable slumber. "Well, my dear," said the old woman, with somewhat of a satirical grin, for she neither liked her nor her sharp system of governance, '' I'm glad to see you a-dropping off a bit at last ; for even them as has had rig'lar edication of sltting-up can't help it sometimes. But it's come at last, my dear. He's got the fever, and a precious catch- ing one it'll be ; but on course you don't mind it, my dear, as turns the pillow with such kristin patience ? " Yet though Miss Dust made some answer in keeping with the vigorous nature of her foregone charity, the additional pallor that spread itself beneath the deep-frilled nightcap showed that her harpy greed had never once taken into ac- count burning, wastino;, death-giving fever. Heretofore she had zealously led in all the Sa- maritanal duties of the sick chamber, but at the word ^' fever" it might be observed that she by degrees removed to a remote part of the room, and there remained till she withdrew at an un- usually early hour. That such a low thing as fever should have curtained itself within the aristocratic " Jamble's" fiiled the good landlady THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 49 with the greatest consternation. All the servants v/ere called together and enjoined to silence ; for the merest whisper that such an enemy was in the house would at once have put to flight its overflowing company. Mrs. Jamble was at the same time informed that Miss Dust was much indisposed, and that the full conclave of house- maids had one and all agreed, with the excep- tion of the smallest and most defenceless, that besides having other duties, they would not risk the danger of the sick chamber, but devolve it on Miss Dust, who had already given much oflfence by her enthusiastic charity, the nurse, or anyone else who might like to undertake the office. This was exactly what Dust policy had planned. It would be convenient for her to be ill whilst grim fever hung above the unknown and the uncared for ; it would be convenient that the youngest, and smallest, and most unrepining of her slaves should serve and wait whilst the balance lay with danger and with death ; it served her purpose, because tlds smallest and this least would do her ministerings faithfully and well; and when all fear was over, she, Dust, great paramount chambermaid at "Jamble's," could recover in a day, and thrusting fortli the dear nature that had seen not, nor thought of, fear, or death, or self, watch the halcyon mo- ments of recovery, and reap the golden harvest. And what if this small fragment of humanity perished ? She was but an orphan, from a iiir-off VOL. I. E 50 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. County Union! — and who would shed one tear over her unknown parish coffin ? Blessino;s on thee, small Meo^ ! Be lio^ht of heart, be lis^ht of foot, be light of hand ; he thou watchest has a divine spirit, and God and Truth are for thee ! Without consciousness of Dust policy, she entered on her office. Now no rough hand upon the curtains, none to snatch the pillows, none to roughly speak or roughly serve — and this not because the gentleman was rich, or might be great, but because the heart of the woman WAS genuine ! Yet within the fever worked and raged; the throes vvere not less deep for being inarticulate ; nor the tide of the mighty ocean of life less perilous ! Two days passed on ; the third night came ! The gentleman had sunk to sleep, the good phy- sician had left some time, and the nurse had dropped off into a little preparatory nap after her first modicum of gin. Though worn by several nights' watching, in addition to her daily round of duties, small Meg sat within a few paces of the bed, in the very trimmest and tightest of brown stuff gowns, and in a ver}^ little cap with one pink bow. She had but lately stepped to the bed, and seen how deep and calm, for the first time since his severe illness, was the sick gentleman's sleep ; how less the fever raged, how a gathering dew hunir round his forehead and within his before scorched hand, that for hours in the THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 5 1 delirium of fever had moved round and round on every side, as if in search of some cool space, however small, whereon to rest; and now she moved lightly again about the room, to place many small things in order, that the nurse had displaced or Miss Dust "settled" with a taste peculiar to herself. She had come back to her seat some minutes, thinking of a small plot just brought to mind by moving the vase into the place where it had first stood — which plot was no other than that the fat waiter should buy her a choice bunch of flowers for it next morning ; when, hearing the curtain move, and turning quickly round, she was startled to see the sick gentleman awake from his deep sleep, sitting up- right in bed, and regarding her attentively. In a moment she was by the bed, with her bright face looking into his haggard one, and asking if he were better. "Yes," he very faintly said. She w^ould awaken the nurse. " No !" was somewhat ener- getically said for one so very weak that he dropped back on to the pillow; then more faintly asking for some tea. She quickly, though more lightly than ever, moved about; going to and fro into the ante- chamber, making the little kettle boil in no time, toasting a very thin round of bread, having the tea ready by the time the toast was done, then coming to the bed with all so nice on a tiny waiter ; pouring out the tea to cool, then prop- ping up the gentleman with pillows, and putting e2 52 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. her own shawl, that hung on a chah', round him, lest he should take cold, then standing modestly by to hold the saucer; she might have been a nurse all her life, from the way she set about the matter. Presently tlie nurse woke up, and see- ing the gentleman was better, and the process of tea going forward, undertook her official duties immediately, and dismissed the small housemaid for the remainder of the night. Before, however, the nurse was aroused, or the gentleman awake next morning, she was there again, about her duties, and made everything neat and nice, even placed the flowers, which the fat waiter had brought up-stairs secretly, in the vase, by the time, Mhich was early, the good physician arrived. Pleased to see his patient better, he sat down by the bed, and talked to him, though in a very low voice, when, presently, Meg coming into the room — for they had been alone before — the physician mo- tioned her to the bed. " To this good girl," he said to the gentleman, "rather than to me, you owe your life, for one more gentle, careful, tender, I have never seen ; and one, I feel morally certain, wlio has acted from no mercenary motives." She blushed, and moved away. The physician's glance, following her, saw the vase upon the toilet — " What, even flowers this morning, housemaid ? " She blushed still more. " She thought the gentleman might like to see THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 53 them, now he was better," was her short answer as she quickly left the room. As soon as the physician was gone, the gentle- man asked the nurse for Meg ; would have her come and place the vase on a little table beside the bed, and through all that day and the next, if she were near, and could be found, he would take everything from her hand, in preference to that of the nurse. This proceeding, and the absence now of all danger from the sick room, soon reached the ears of Miss Dust, who recovered forthwith so speedily from her "illness," as to be enabled the very next morning to undertake, as heretofore, her Samaritanal duties, with such prodigious enthusiasm and tenderness as to quite throw the nurse into the shade. As a matter of course, contingent on this state of affairs, Meg, whose " awkwardness was quite dreadful," was dismissed to even more remote regions of the house than number fourteen ; and whenever inquired for by the sick gentleman, was either busy or not to be found. Thinsfs w^ent on thus for some davs, Miss Dust in the meanwhile much chao;rined that to her talkings and officious doings hardly came answers, and rarely more than coldest thanks. As soon as he could leave his bed, the sick gentleman was moved on his couch into the drawing-room, on which occasion Mrs. Jamble paid him a formal visit, delivered up the long-sealed pocket-book, digressed much on the aristocratic patronage bestowed on her hotel, and even treated him with 54 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN". small episodes concerning her marriageable niece and the late Mr. Jamble. "You would confer a further great favour," said the gentleman, when they had thus talked some time, " if you will allow your small housemaid to continue her services. She is silent, and that is at all times a thing I covet." Mrs. Jamble, who had suffered much from Mi^s Dust's loquacity, readily assented, and some half- hour after she had withdrawn Meg brought in the basin of beef-tea. More than that he was glad that she was come back again, the gentleman said little. It seemed to him a delight to lie, and have the vase brought in from the bed-room, its dead flowers removed — Miss Dust's hand had been forbidden to touch them — fresh and very choice ones sent for directly from Covent Garden, with an order for a fresh supply every morning ; when come, to see Meg dress them forth, to have them put upon the table, and his books placed beside him on the couch — all of which time, few words being said. Miss Dust, whose ear was at the bed- chamber key-hole, was not much the wiser. In fact, Mrs. Jamble's command for Meg to resume her customary duties came like a thunderbolt upon the head chambermaid, who, after a good, hearty cry, resolved that, either through the agency of Miss Millicent, Gloss, her own, or all combined, the reign of the small housemaid should be short. To carry out this admirable resolve, she immediately commenced an elaborate system of espionage, in which she was ably and heartily THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 55 assisted by Shark^ who, having had a deaf ear turned to his own ardent suit, was sufficiently spiteful and vicious to make an admirable ally. There were, therefore, quick comings into the rooms whenever possible ; following her steps in every direction, and a continuous ear at the various accessible key-holes. One thing, how- ever, wholly defeated any success that might have arisen from listening. The gentleman, by habit taciturn, scarcely ever spoke to Meg, though she might be for a whole hour about the room, or even waiting by his side. Yet he would look up into her face often if she were standing by, not rudely, not haughtily, not as the high might look upon the humble, but ever as one owing much that could not be repaid by money gifts, and as one whose best homage to purity was silence. Yet, too, he would watch her all about the room, laying down then the newspaper or book by which he had shaded his upturned glance, liking to see her arrange the morning's fresh bouquet, his books, his papers; yet all tiiis in silence. Still withal, small Meg knew her services were gratefully received ; it was pleasant to her to feel that for once hireling duty was worthily received, and pleasurable, to her womanly and most genuine nature, to be convinced that this same duty and service were estimated in the same spirit as that in which they were bestowed. Wonderfully debilitated by so severe an illness, it was nearly a month before the gentleman could leave his couch to walk, by painful steps, across 56 THE LADY HEEBERT's GENTLEWOMEN. the room; and through all this time Meg had waited tenderly and well, Miss Dust listened, Mr. Shark " popped in " on tiptoe, and yet not one word had been heard satisfactory to Miss Dust's ears, or one blush, with all the " poppings-in " seen upon small Meg's face. One night, how- ever, after a pretty long confabulation in the brush- and-duster senate-house, the mighty cham- bermaid and Shark took up their usual position by the most admissible key-hole. Meg had just gone in with the evening's letters. There was, as they could hear, some wine and medicine to fetch from the ante-chamber. When brought, the gentleman spoke, and asked Meg why she never wore the brown gown now, and the cap with the pink bow. Meg's voice trembled very much — even Miss Dust could distinguish that. " I thought, sir, it had grown too shabby to wait upon you, and the pink in the cap, sir, is quite faded." " Wear the gown, though, Meg — it will never be old or shabby to me ; but — but — the time will be quickly here, ^leg, when I shall be able to talk of that and other things, with full justice to you." He seemed to take her hand, which must have been quickly withdrawn, and that without a spoken word, for she went again into the ante- chamber. " Well, there," whispered Miss Dust, abso- lutely gasping with delight, and touching Mr. Shark significantly on the shoulder, ^' it's jist THE LADY HEEBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 57 what I thought! Yes — the time is cominiXj I daresay, but it shan't be at Jamble'.s, as never had yet a breath upon its private character, nor public neither, up-stairs nor down-stairs. No, miss, mi-sis may be kind to customers and humour their wishes, but it shall never come to thaty or else a respectable young woman like me (she was above fifty) as has a character to maintain, shall pack up her four boxes and her two trunks, and put a quarter's wages in Mrs. Jamble's hands and say, There, ma'am, it's a sacrifice on course, but it's what a modest young woman is driven to by an unnameable miss, as shall be buried in silence. Yes, and a pretty taste he must have, as has had a Christian-spirited upper housemaid to wait on him." The point thus broached in the latter part of her speech made Miss Dust so uncommonly in- dignant, that she was necessitated to retire to her senate-house, and there give her wrath its due vent; after which explosion she put on her best cap, produced two wine-glasses, and a little some- thing from a corner cupboard, sent down a private and confidential message to Mr. Gloss, who, arriving, was closeted with her, till Miss Milli- cent's bell rung, as signal for attendance on her toilette. As this young lady was much given, as I have before mentioned, to the concoction of romances, the mystery that still hung round the sick gentleman, his long illness, the many reports that had reached her of his generosity and kliul- ness, and, moreover, her settled belief that she 58 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. was born to great and romantic things in the way of marriage, inclined her not merely to lend a willing ear to all Miss Dust had to communicate, but also to pass many unjust and severe remarks upon Meg's pretty face and humble fortunes. For it was mortifying to consider that whilst she, the sole niece and heiress of Mrs. Jamble, must manoeuvre and plot to obtain peeps and abrupt glances, this small housemaid, whom she always passed with such supreme indifference, could talk, and look, and wait upon this gentleman, and this with effect, if the matter of the brown gown and pink cap might be taken as a guarantee. Ac- cordingly next day Miss Millicent took care to inform Mrs. Jamble of certain particulars con- cerning Meg, how long she stayed in the sick gentleman's room, how much she talked, and so on. But the landlady, on the whole, having a good heart, and liking Meg, and feeling assured that she was a good as well as virtuous girl, looked much more favourably upon the matter; but when from day to day, after this time, Mr. Gloss would give significant shakes of the head. Miss Dust drop astounding hints, not daring wholly to speak that which had no truth within it, and Miss Millicent say that " it was a pity some people were imposed upon," Mrs. Jamble began to think that there must be really some- thing in the matter. She therefore, after due consultation with her niece, sent for Meg, much, be it remarked, against Mi.-ss Dust's desire. When come, and taxed with her sins, Meg, as she could THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 59 truly, denied them with many tears, and in such earnest, honest sort of fashion that Mrs. Jamble believed her from the very bottom of her heart. '' It is indeed true, ma'am," confessed Meg, "about the gown and cap, but that could only become known throus^h listenins;. Otherwise the gentleman rarely, very -rarely talks, or as for giving me money, ma'am, he never in his whole life offered me so much as one sixpence, or the value of it." " Indeed I believe you, my good girl," said the landlady, much touched, " but as a gentleman, probably of high station, and really so wealthy, can have no honourable " " Indeed, ma'am," interrupted Meg, " he never has offered one insult, or even made approach to one — indeed, ma'am, never." "Possibly not, Meg; his meaning may be not less dishonourable for being hidden. To i)revent this, and save you many bitter years, the more especially as I think you a very good and honest girl, and should be sorry to see any misfortune fall upon you, I forbid your further attendance upon Mr. Verdun, strictly forbid it, and must never again hear of your carrying flowers into any chamber of my house. It is a fault I never had to find with Dust." True ! O Jamble, Dust was quite incapable of much beyond a lie. But be of good hope, small Meg, he thou hast watched over has a divine heart, and God and Truth are for thee I Thus prohibited — and there were plenty of 60 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. watchful eyes to see that this prohibition was not in- fringed upon — Meg's services were again apportion- ed to her in a distant part of the house, and Miss Dust resumed her sway, assisted by Mr. Shark and a minor satellite. Everything for some days pro- gressed through the same clock-work round, only it was observable that the flowers, when brought each morning, lay to fade upon the table, and that every time the doors opened, whether he were walking, lying down, or sitting at the table, the ofentleman turned round as if to look for some one. On the fourth evening he abruptly asked Shark why he was not waited upon as usual ; and when that worthy, with an obsequious bow, de- clared he did not know, the gentleman wrote a note, sealed it, and dispatched the waiter with it downstairs. As, of course, was necessary, Mr. Shark could not pass without stepping into the Dust senate-house ; and the worthy owner, after inspecting the note on every side, fully con- vinced that it was on some affair touching; small Meg, declared she w^ould be its bearer. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and Mr. Wiggs, somewhat low in hope and heart, was tak- ing a "friendly cup of tea" with Miss Millicent and her aunt — that admirable young lady, not lilt- ing the worthy Wiggs wholly to depart, though the before-mentioned small romance absorbed her much, kept playing with the passion of her admirer as a cat does with a mouse — orivinoj him now a little hope, then pouncing upon him with extraordinary cold looks and icy words, while THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 61 Wiggs, looking at both the Three-per-Cents. and the ready cash, as well as at Miss Millicent, bore on with much fortitude. Mrs. Jamble brought the candle much nearer to her, for it was dark always at an early hour in her parlour, read the note over very carefully two or three times, then, to Miss Dust's astonishment, after looking absorbedly at the tea-pot, into the sugar-basin, and up to the ceiling, said — "Let Shark immediately present my dutiful respects to Mr. Verdun, and say that, as I cannot give a written answer to his note, I will wait upon him to-morrow at noon precisely." After receiving this message, Miss Dust lin- gered for a minute or two to see if anything fur- ther would be communicated, but Mrs. Jamble remaining silent, she left the room, closed the door, and listened outside. "Only think, my dear sir," spoke ^Irs. Jamble, when Dust had closed the door, " of Mr. Yerdun actually writing about Meg, asking to have her wait upon him again, and says his motives towards her are most honourable, as he shall prove. What do you think?" Mr. Wiggs looked doubtfully at Miss Millicent, but his better nature triumphed. " He really may — such romantic things have been." Miss Millicent glanced with supreme contempt upon her admirer — " What ! as handsome and rich gentlemen mar- rying ugly servant-maids ? I'm surprised at your 62 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. offering such an opinion, Mr. Wiggs ; but; of course, aunt can but act in one way, that is, dis- miss the girl altogether." "This is really what I must do," spoke the landlady after a moment or two's reflection. Miss Millicent's humane suggestion not having pre- sented itself to her mind ; " a disgrace must not fall on ' Jamble's;' and I shall be able to say with perfect truth to Mr. Verdun, ^ the servant you inquire after, sir, has left this respectable west- end hotel, and I'm not at liberty to say where she is gone.'" This determination so elated Miss Millicent, as it did much towards the furtherinsf of her ro- mance, that instead of remaining to play divers touching songs to Mr. VViggs, as she had pro- mised before tea, she presently adjourned with Mrs. Jamble to her bed-room. From thence she was deputed with much solemnity and secrecy to search out Meg, whilst Mrs. Jamble concocted a small moral sermon ready for delivery, and de- termined to add an extra pound to the quarter's wages which were due. Small Meg, in morning cap and gown, w^as busy in a suite of apartments just vacated, and received Mrs. Jamble's summons with much surprise. She begged to remain and change her dress, but of this Miss Millicent would hear nothing, so just as she was found they de- scended to the landlady's bedchamber. Mrs. Jamble was there ready with her sermon, and the wages screwed up in a piece of paper, and, inter- mingled with the delivery of the first, she gave in THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 63 detail certain portions of her reason why Meg should then, that very night, pack up her few clothes, receive her wages, and depart, without further communication with the rest of the ser- vants. "For, my good girl, gentlemen in these days are full of evil designs ; and it would be such a disgrace on this respectable family hotel, and would always grieve me to tliink that I had al- lowed you to remain in harm's way. I have no alternative then but to dismiss you, without giving any information to the rest of my ser- vants, and with the gift of this extra pound." " I'm much obliged," replied the little house- maid, bursting into tears, " but it's late to-night, and I haven't a relative or friend in London, and know no one, except an old woman with whom I once lodged. And as for Mr. Verdun, he never " This evident desire to remain, and the denial of evil word or look from the sick gentleman, seemed so much like guilt in the eyes of Miss Milli- cent, and presently in ^Irs. Jamble's also, that Meg was somewhat peremptorily dismissed to pack her solitary box with as much haste as pos- sible, whilst a cab should, wait for her in a back street that ran in the rear of the hotel. To see that she held no further communication with the servants, Miss Millicent followed Meg to her humble garret bed-chamber, and sat down on one of the beds whilst the small box was packed. At first the heavy things were put into the box, next 64 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. the gowns one by one, at last the brown one, that had been so often watched and looked after when Meor little thoiio^ht or knew that it was more precious than costliest velvet or richest satin; that linked long years of care, of stern and solitary thought, of life without a home or one endearing tie, to a new spiritual life that seemed like youth again ; that was the sign of a new life, a new world, a host of new enjoyments, the signet and the seal of a new appreciation of nature, and the divine human heart ! — that was the outer covering of one that with poor, coarse, hireling hand had yet ministered with the faith and tenderness of an angel ! Touch it lightly, Meg, be careful of it ; he that has looked upon it has a divine heart, and God and Truth are with you ! Miss Millicent, however, looked at it with eyes askance, little dreaming of these things ; though had she known its coming day of destiny, she would have verily torn it into little pieces and scattered them to the winds. But it went into the box, other things with it, all locked ; the pink cap in another box, that corded, Meg in her shawl and bonnet, the cabman came up the back stairs and took them dowm, Meg following, and with no more adieu than a haughty nod from Miss Millicent, she has quitted Jamble's Hotel, and is gone on her lonely, tearful, unregarded w ay Soon after this event, there commenced, in most of the daily papers, a series of advertise- 65 merits, to the effect that if a certain ^I. who through the months of June and July lived as under-housemaid at J Hotel, Street, Piccadilly, would call upon a certain solicitor in Lincoln's Inn, she w^ould hear of something much to her advantage; or any one discovering the present residence of the said M. should be hand- somely rewarded. It was soon evident, however, by this advertisement appearing from week to week, that M. had never applied for this some- thing so greatly to her advantage ; possibly she was not a reader of newspapers, or had removed a long w^ay off. The police, too, began to remark and talk it over at the various station-houses, that there was scarcely one of a division that had not been addressed by a gentleman, more parti- cularly if they were on duty in by-streets or unfrequented districts, and always res])ecting the same person — a girl some eighteen years of age, and a servant, supposed to be out of place. The description of dress and features was always the same. Then, perhaps for some weeks, the inquiry would die away, then be made suddenly again in districts of London most remote from one another, with always the same negative and failure. At last, one very cold November night, a cab came westward into Kussell-square, and driven to its eastern side, out jumped a gentleman very lightly clad for so cold a night, followed by a small fat man, with very low quarter shoes, and with a very great habit of bringing his right hand up to his left arm as if he were tucking some- VOL. I. F 66 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. thing under it. The gentleman turned into Bernard-street, followed by the small fat man, and stopped the first policeman ; there was the same old question put as heretofore, only now with more certainty. " I think I have seen such a person as you de- scribe come up the area step of one of those empty houses, a few yards down on the other side of the way." In a moment the policeman had crossed the street, and stood with the gentleman before the house. It was a gloomy-looking place, evidently long shut up ; the windows, through the interstices of dust and cobv/ebs, showing blank distances of wall and ceiling, more cold and dreary than the street outside. There was light, however, through the basement windows, which danced and flickered on the area wall like a sprite of cheerfulness. As they were about to ring, an old woman with a small bundle on her arm issued from the door and came up the area steps. She did not appear to heed the group, but, closing the gate, was moving onwards, when the fat man, pushing back the gentleman, said almost breathlessly, "Is Mes: down there? I'm an old friend." " Yes, you'll find her ; the door's on the latch." And as if her heart was full of sorrow, or her errand an earnest one, she passed as quickly onward as her feebleness would allow. The gen- tleman was quicker, for he was already half way down the area steps, till stopped by the small fat man. THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 67 "Bliss ye, sir, jist let me step one minute before. If it shouldn't be Meg, it will be the old sorrow and disappointment over again." He had passed the gentleman before an answer could come, had looked in at the window, and was back ao^ain. The fat waiter's whole heart was in his voice when he said — " Yes, yes, yes, sir, it is Meg, and looking blooming too, God bless her!" " You'll wait here," added the gentleman. "Oh! yes, sir, I understand — a situation of the kind don't need company." Mr. Verdun softly opened the door and entered the kitchen. It was bare of all furniture except- ing two chairs, a table, and an old dresser; the fire was very scant and dull, and the girl was seated by it, with her head bent down, and some work lying idly in her lap. He had looked at her, was by her side, had spoken, before she saw him ; then it was with a sort of paralyzed wonder of pain, fear, sorrow, liking, all combined. " Meg," he said again. She turned very pale, partly rose ; needed not wholly to do so ; for she was raised and in his arms. " Dear love, and is it you, after all these months 1 " Some thought of Jamble seemed to come across her mind, for slie flinched away from his manly grasp. " Not so, not so, Meg, unless you will not be what you shall be to-morrow morning — ?/?y wife" F 2 68 THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. " Oh, sir," she faintly said, as her face drooped beneath his passionate kisses, *' recollect what I am, only fit to wait upon you, and be what I am — your servant." " Fit to be my wife, Meg, no man shall gain- say it. If I loved you then, if I admired your tenderness, if I worshiped your womanly purity, I do much more now, knowing the circumstances that surrounded you. Meg, it is small payment, but it is the best I can give you to make you mine. God bless you, Meg, and thank you for your angel service." And then like a child, a very little child, the stern man wept and knelt beside the girl. Ay, Mesr, vi^as I not ris^ht, he thou didst watch had a divine heart, and God and Truth were with thee ! YqIj without comment on himself or his pri- vate circumstances, he sat beside jMeg, still with his arms around her, and told her of his many in- terviews with Mrs. Jamble, how on all occasions, and on moral grounds, she had refused to say where Meg w^as ; how he had advertised and searched, and paid for the services of others ; how, when all hope seemed lost, he had accidentally met with the fat waiter, who had been expelled from ^'Jamble's" on account of his advocacy of Meg, and the tale-bearing propensities of Mr. Shark, and how some clue to Meg's abode had been gained by the observance of the post-mark on a letter to Mrs. Jamble. " Yes, sir, I have been trying for a place ever since I left." THE LADY HERBERT'S GENTLEWOMEN. 69 " And have got one for life, Meg, and for which your character is not written upon paper, but upon a human heart; but where's the brown gown V " She coloured very much and drooped her head. " Not gone, I hope, nor given." " I have been living on my clothes, sir." At last Meg faintly said, " I kept it to the very last, but it was obliged to go to-night, the poor crea- ture who has so long and so kindly given me shelter had no bread." " She who opened the area-gate ? " " Yes, sir, the last thing I possess ; it was in her bundle." " More noble still, Meg, to have kept some thought about tlie gown. But I shall leave money w^ith your friend, not with you — it shall not be said that you ever took money of mine till you were mine. So let the gown be yours again, have it on by ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and I w^lU be ready to give the trust you shall keep." In this sort of way, but with no explanation, let- i\u