L I E> R.AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
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 GASTON BLICtH. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 A 2
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 BY L. S. LAVENU, 
 
 ACTHOB OF "ZRLiSMXRZ.' 
 
 Of Love that never found his earthly ciose 
 What sequel ? streaming ej-es, and breaking hearts : 
 Or all the same as if he had not been ? 
 Not so." 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, C9RNHILL. 
 
 I808. 
 IThe Right of Translation is reserved.']
 
 3Jo ttiij grothcr, 
 
 WHO IN THE NEW WOitLD WILL NOT 
 
 THE LESS VALUE AN OLD FASHIONED .MESSAGE uF 
 
 LOVE AND ESTEEM, 
 
 / DEDICATE THIS TALK. 
 
 MOST ilONOUREn IN HIS ACCErTANCE OF IX.
 
 853 
 
 GASTON BLIGH 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Apre I'uomo infelice, allor che nasce 
 In questa vita di miserie plena, 
 Pria che al sol, gli occhi al pianto, e nato appena, 
 Ya prigioner fra le tenaci fasce." 
 
 I HATE often wondered what mysteries are liidden 
 in that dark region of infancy which is unex- 
 plored by memory. Perhaps we are not per- 
 mitted to fathom it because it hes so near the 
 great Centre of creation. I long to know more 
 of my childhood ; to cool my mind in its reminis- 
 cence, and, if it might be, discover in the mystery 
 of the Beginning some clue to the mystery of 
 the End. It is said retrospection is morbid; 
 yet I will recall the past, and, for my own 
 YOL. I. B
 
 *l GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 good, and it may be the good of such another 
 as myself, trace the causes why I have suffered 
 and been the means of so much suffering to 
 others. 
 
 First recollections are the first foot-prints 
 of the exile man as he leaves Eden. There 
 is much reflection of the fiery sword on them, 
 mingled with the grey light of chilly dawn. 
 A shock of fear stands at the gate of my 
 memory. I can never forget awaking from 
 my afternoon sleep to a sense of vague horror. 
 I was in my white curtained cot, my nurse 
 had just left me, and as I listened to the beat 
 of her deserting footsteps, the room seemed to 
 become a sea of blood, over which pale fiery 
 shapes waved to and fro, scattering crimson 
 flame on the walls, as they came near and nearer 
 in a measured dance; while I, terror-stricken, 
 powerless, gazed incapable of crying aloud. At 
 last, a gush of fire caught the bedclothes, blazed 
 on the curtains ; my hands dripped with the 
 ghastly glare : — the phantoms stooped to touch 
 xfx^ face and twined their fingers in my hair.
 
 GASTON BLIG-H. 3 
 
 I remember no more till darkness suddenly 
 came and swept those spectres away as an angel's 
 wing might have done, and low voices flitted 
 about the room and talked of sunset, but in 
 vain it was explained to me why the sunset 
 gleam through the waving trees reddened all 
 it fell upon. The very talk about it was fear- 
 ful to me. I grew used to the evening light, 
 and another sunset has come between me and 
 my childish vision ; but it is still an eery time 
 of day to me. Angels haunt it now, not those 
 pale, indefinite forms that waved their lambent 
 torches over my first remembered impressions. 
 An angel haunts it now. 
 
 B 2
 
 GASTON BLiaH. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 " Si votre fils rongit en secret, ignorez sa honte ; accroissez- 
 la en I'embrassant ; accablez le d'un eloge, d'une caresse qu'il 
 salt ne pas meriter. Si, par hazard, une larme s'echappe de 
 ses yeux, arrachez-vous de ses bras, allez pleurer de joie dans 
 un endroit ecarte : vous etes la plus heureuse des meres. Sur- 
 tout gardez-vous de lui precher toutes les vertus, et de lui 
 vouloir trop de talens. Lui precher toutes les vertus seroit 
 une tache trop forte pour vous et pour lui." — Diderot. 
 
 Before I loved her, I often tried to think my 
 mother was just and right in her management 
 of me, her only child. It is not a question for 
 me to decide ; but I know it was good for me, 
 seeing that all circumstances are good. My father 
 died while I was yet an infant. My mother never 
 betrayed her feelings to me, but the family tradi- 
 tions ascribed to her entire devotion to him, 
 and obedience to his wishes. He was reported 
 to me as wise but stern. Kind, where he con-
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 5 
 
 ceived kindness was deserved, but severe in pro- 
 portion to those faults which peculiarly offended 
 his principles : cowardice and falsehood were in 
 his ejes unpardonable, meanness of any sort was 
 less excusable than crime. He was by tem- 
 perament a Spartan. In youth, he was emphati- 
 cally a gentleman, in manhood a Christian : if 
 he had lived ! But all was well. 
 
 My mother worshipped him during the long 
 and suffeiing illness which preceded his death; 
 she listened reverently to his maxims, she trea- 
 sured his least wish for his son's future. He died, 
 and her heart remained buried in the memory 
 of her two years of married life : henceforth she 
 lived but to carry out his expressed plans, to 
 form her life on the model of his. But she could 
 not be in his place to me ; better had she been 
 herself, nor forsaken her motherhood to fulfil 
 his misinterpreted duties to me — yet not better, 
 all is well. 
 
 I think childhood is to some the most painful 
 age. I do not understand those who talk of the 
 unmarred pleasure of their early years: are we
 
 6 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 not ignorant of what we can be, wliile we are too 
 keenly conscious of what we can suffer? We 
 magnify the ills, we underrate the good of life ; 
 for to a child evil is purely unnatural. He is 
 astonished at it, and his mind dwells on it unduly ; 
 whereas good is never so good as he conceives 
 of it. While he is yet learning to exercise his 
 perceptions, he sees men as trees walking; he 
 is aghast at the discrepancy between their move- 
 ments and his ideal, and only by degrees does 
 he recover the pain of his disappointment; only 
 by degrees he learns to think of the seeming dis- 
 cord, that it is a necessary part in the completed 
 symphony of Providence. 
 
 My father had appointed my mother to be 
 my sole guardian, and my education was placed 
 in her hands. He had implicit and deserved con- 
 fidence in her devotion to his memory, and he 
 left for her assistance a plan for my education, 
 very suitably framed if I had possessed his charac- 
 teristics — but I was almost my father's opposite in 
 disposition. 
 
 My mother so often warned me that I was
 
 GASTO:? BLIGH. 7 
 
 cowardly, false, dishonourable, and self-conscious, 
 that I grew used to think of myself as such. I 
 understood least the accusation of self-conscious- 
 ness, and therefore it was, I remember, the one 
 that most annoyed me. I felt it true that I did 
 often think of myself. I was conscious of fear 
 when detected in some breach or evasion of 
 schoolroom regulations. When sent for to the 
 dim red curtained hall, in which my mother sat 
 of a morning, I was conscious in every nerve. 
 Anger and fear struggled for pre-eminence, not 
 because I had committed the fault for which 
 I was arraigned, not because my mother was 
 angry, but because she held me before her, while 
 with severe eyes she looked me through and 
 through, and seeing that my spirit writhed, she 
 calmly contenmed my self-consciousness. If she 
 had beaten me for my acts, I would have loved 
 her ; but it was my disposition, my thoughts 
 which she censured. I resented her judgment 
 of them as no son should have done. 
 
 Except when I was to be advised — my mother 
 always called rebuke advice — I saw little of her.
 
 8 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 A nursery-governess of whom I do not remember 
 mucli, taught me until I was six. Then I was 
 sent for the forenoon of every day to the curate 
 of the parish, to be prepared for school ; but after 
 five months of walking to and from his house 
 across the fields, my mother discovered that I had 
 formed a friendship for a herd-boy some years my 
 senior : he was in charge of cattle that grazed in 
 the fields through which my path lay. The maid 
 who guarded me was his aunt, and looked with 
 lenient eyes upon our intercourse. My esteem 
 was founded on awe of his strength and admiration 
 of his gifts, for he could shoot crows, and carve 
 little boats out of solid wood. He presented 
 me with one carefully finished, and rigged with 
 a lug-sail cut out of his Sunday neck-tie. We 
 discussed at length what name would be worthy of 
 this A 1 craft, and chose " Hope " principally 
 because it contained but four letters, and could 
 be mscribed on the stem. But there was a knot 
 in the wood, my friend's knife snapped across: 
 farewell to Hope, and the admired boat lost all 
 beauty in our e/es, failing the perfection of a name.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 9 
 
 " I 'm sorry for my knife," said Jem. ^' It took 
 me three weeks' savincr to buv, and I owe six- 
 pence still." 
 
 "What did it cost?" 
 
 ^^ One and tenpence — it was real good — but 
 never mind, master. I'll try and borrow one, and 
 finish the P and the E." 
 
 " I '11 give you a knife, Jem," I said, in a low 
 voice — I knew the difficulties before me ; besides, 
 the^ maid in charge came up and hastened me on. 
 I had a bad habit of concealment, and hated to 
 have my plans discussed; so I was silent all the 
 way home, while I revolved my chances of imme- 
 diately replacing the knife my friend had broken 
 in my service. I had in the old percussion-cap 
 box, which was my purse, a shilling ; how to add 
 the required tenpence was my difficulty. I could 
 not eat the biscuits and boiled milk for my supper ; 
 my sleep was broken, and I awoke at daybreak. 
 
 How valiant are our resolutions while we lie 
 in bed, that theatre where we enact the Possible. 
 How disenchanting is the act of dressing, during 
 which we wretchedly descend to the level of the
 
 10 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Probable, and life seems no longer a procession 
 to the Capitol where crowns await us. We 
 miss a button, or cannot master an obstinate 
 tuft of hair that will make our heads look as if 
 they belonged to Japanese magnates, and lo ! 
 the anticipated crown looms a fool's cap and 
 bells. 
 
 I meant to ask my maid for tenpence, but she 
 was in an unamiable mood. 
 
 *^ Where can I buy a knife for Jem ? " I asked, 
 while she scrutinised my nails. 
 
 " Knife indeed ! Don't you know, sir, you are 
 not old enough, or good enough, to have knives. 
 
 " But I want one for Jem." 
 
 *^Jem had better mind his own business than 
 be idling with knives. What would your mamma 
 say, if she knew all the work I have to get you 
 away from Jem every blessed day ! " 
 
 "Then I had better ask her for the tenpence 
 I want." 
 
 "Indeed, sir, you'll do no such thing! 
 
 I'll There's the prayer-bell! Run down, 
 
 sir ! run down ! "
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 11 
 
 I aways breakfasted with my mother — a dreary 
 meal, for she was generally occupied reading the 
 morning's letters, and I did not address her unless 
 she first spoke to me. This morning she seemed 
 to have heard some painful news. Her eyes 
 filled often, her lips quivered, but I did not 
 sympathize though I was uneasy; she lived 
 in another world fi'om mine. I should as soon 
 have thought of mourning for an eclipsed 
 moon. 
 
 It was no time for my request. I slunk out of 
 the room noiselessly, and spent an hour on 
 the stairs plucking up courage to re-approach my 
 mother. 
 
 She sat in her usual arm-chair ; her Bible was 
 on a table beside her. She seemed asleep, for her 
 eyes were shut; but it was only reverie, for she 
 turned to me as I drew near : 
 
 " What do you want, Gaston ?" 
 
 " I want tenpence." 
 
 " Why ? you have a shilling." 
 
 " Jem wants a knife."
 
 12 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 "Who is Jem?" 
 
 " He is always in Harden's fields ; he broke his 
 knife making my boat." 
 
 I had got thus far when it suddenly occurred to 
 me that my mother had cautioned Martha against 
 my making acquaintances of whom she did not 
 know; so I stopped short, and expecting anger 
 hardened myself to meet it. 
 
 " Have you seen much of Jem?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 ^^ You have met him every day ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Gaston, you do not speak the truth; ring 
 the bell." 
 
 Martha was summoned : she did not like her 
 place in my mother's household, so without 
 reticence she related when and where I had 
 played with her nephew, adding that she saw 
 no harm in our companionship. 
 
 " Enough," said my mother, " leave the room, 
 Gaston." 
 
 An hour afterwards she sent for me ; her hand
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 13 
 
 shook as she placed me before her, hut her eye 
 was cold as she said — 
 
 " Your disobedience I could have pardoned, 
 your falsehood compels me to change the plan 
 of education I had settled for you; you must 
 be more closely watched in future. I will send 
 your friend money to buy a knife ; you will stay 
 in your room the rest of the day." 
 
 My mother's maid brought me my usual dinner 
 and supper. She told me I had been the means, 
 through my naughtiness, of having Martha dis- 
 missed; but I was sulky, and my feelings were 
 not touched by this announcement; besides, my 
 imprisonment resulted from my anxiety to screen 
 Martha : I did not feel that my two " No's" had 
 been falsehoods. Children are early casuists, and 
 I considered I had aimed at impenetrability and 
 had not told lies. 
 
 My mother's " advice" never went to my heart. 
 I had an indefinite idea that she learned her 
 reproofs out of a book. Poor mother, I did not 
 know it was so great an effort to her to repeat
 
 14 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 what she thought was her duty to say: would 
 that she had trusted more to what she feltl 
 Meantime, I was not punished at all : by climbing 
 I could reach a folio edition of BufFon which was 
 supposed to be beyond my reach; my solitude 
 was pleasantly employed in looking through its 
 plates.
 
 GASTON BLian. 15 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "Les enfans savent precisement et mieux que personne ce 
 qu'ils meritent, et ils ne meritent guere que ce qu'ils craignent: 
 ils connoissent si c'est a tort ou avec raison qu'on les chatie 
 et ne se gatent pas moins par des peines mal ordonnes que par 
 rimpunite." — La Bruyere. 
 
 For a year and a half I suffered the contrarieties 
 of female government, and the staid governess 
 engaged by my mother endured the plagues I 
 voluntarily and involuntarily inflicted on her. 
 I grew daily more incorrigible, a source of real 
 anxiety to my mother, and of constant vexation to 
 Miss Spratt. Alternate rebellion and punishment, 
 sufficient to give pain yet not to reform, affected 
 at last my health. I had a low fever, of which 
 my mother mistook the symptoms ; a rigid diet 
 was her " systematic" remedy for every ailment. 
 July came with its wealth of fruit, but the edict
 
 16 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 had been issued that I should not have even 
 one gooseberry. 
 
 I beguiled the gardener: a mound of the for- 
 bidden luxury was discovered behind the folio 
 Buffoii. The aliment of the mind was withdrawn 
 with that of the body, and I was locked up 
 without resource, and with the additional bitter- 
 ness of hearing that my cousin Sylvia Godwin, 
 a young lady five years older than myself, was to 
 have spent the day with me, while my mother 
 entertained hers. 
 
 From the window of my room, however, I 
 found I could descend on the leads of the porch 
 which sheltered the terrace door, and by which 
 my mother and her friends generally went in 
 and out. I unscrewed the handle of my hearth- 
 brusli, and fastened to it a long piece of twine of 
 which I was the fortunate owner. A double 
 fishing-hook attached to this enabled me to 
 enjoy the best five minutes' sport of my life. 
 
 As my mother and her guests issued through 
 the porch, and stood admiring the cKmbing plants 
 with which it was covered, I angled with tolerable
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 17 
 
 success for their hats and bonnets. I was fortunate 
 enough to hook twice the hat of an odd-looking 
 light-haired gentleman, whom I aftei^wards dis- 
 covered to be my uncle Godwin, a brother of 
 my mother's, who had been abroad for some years 
 with his wife and daughter. 
 
 " Confound my hat I " he murmured, as I 
 jerked it slightly. 
 
 " Very odd ! " he exclaimed, with incipient pas- 
 sion, when I again communicated to it independent 
 action. 
 
 The third time I drew it aloft in triumph — a 
 short-lived triumph. I was discovered : yet in all 
 the " advice" afterwards endured, I was somewhat 
 consoled by the kind face of Mrs. Godwin my 
 uncle's Italian wife. My fever became worse ; 
 her soft dark eyes haunted me as I lay half- 
 dreaming, half-conscious during those quick- 
 sKding weeks of illness. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ** There are -s^-ho lord it o'er their fello-vr-men 
 With most prevailing tinsel : who unpen 
 Their baaing vanities, to browse away 
 The comfortable green and juicy hay 
 From human pastures." — Keats. 
 
 My motlier was uneasy about me ; lier regulations 
 grew stricter and stricter, but my health did not 
 improve; at length a learned pundit among her 
 friends suggested school as a remedy. My 
 mother had a horror of the schools of common 
 life ; she compromised by sending me to a clergy- 
 man who took charge of six little boys : they were 
 about my own age, very good children, very 
 carefully watched; it w^as lilve being at home. 
 I had no experience of the hot suppers and other 
 crimes of schoolboy life. Our naughtiness was 
 confined to the schoolroom ; beyond its precincts
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 19 
 
 we were what our mothers called perfect little 
 gentlemen, but our contemporaries perfect little 
 muffs. I don't remember any peculiar sunshine 
 or cloud in the monotonous twilight of Mr. 
 Carson's era. I believe I was chiefly occupied 
 in outgrowing mj strength, which I carried to 
 such a pitch that when I was about twelve years 
 old our doctor ordered sea-air for me. My 
 mother took me to Dover ; she met there a friend 
 whom she had known in the happier time of 
 her married life, Mrs. Smith was a cousin of 
 my father's ; she had been intimately acquamted 
 with him, and, adopting his principles, distorted 
 them. He was unaffected by prevalent customs, 
 and steered his own course. She attacked those 
 who differed from her, and made herself a slave to 
 the anti-fashion of the day. Her husband was 
 one of those passive characters who can neither ^e 
 influenced nor governed, yet she tried to do both ; 
 his resentments were insignificant to her, but she 
 was galled by her powerlessness. Like most of 
 those who earn their own vexations, she took hard 
 views of life, and, falling back on her cousm's 
 
 C 2
 
 20 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 theories, she adopted a Spartan harshness without 
 gaining a Spartan nobleness of thought. 
 
 Mr. Smith was a retired tea-merchant, his wife 
 was a Bligh; on her wedding-day she announced that 
 she defied the "prejudice of caste"; shortly after she 
 defied Mr. Smith. But to quarrel with Mr. Smith 
 was " silly : " she devoted herself in the rebound of 
 an embittered heart to her only child Ulrica. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was inconsistent as woman can be, 
 but still my mother had unaltered confidence in 
 the "sense and noble views" of one who could 
 so trenchantly depreciate "mere feeling," the 
 " sacrifice of duty to weak affection," the "narrow- 
 ness of aim so prevalent among us." My poor 
 mother ! how she leant on what had even the 
 semblance of strength. The ivy clung to what- 
 ever reared itself stiff and stark, whether it were 
 a pasteboard or a granite edifice. 
 
 Ulrica was just my age, but more advanced 
 in every way than I was. I grew strong resent- 
 ing her teasing : she found out that my mother 
 was vexed at my backwardness, and amused 
 herself by exposing my ignorance.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 21 
 
 But worst of all, she discovered an effusion in 
 verse I had written to Miss Carson — and yet I 
 don't know that I was so very angry about that ; 
 my bitterest moment was on that morning when I 
 inadvertently wore a shirt on the collar of which 
 was printed in marking ink — 
 
 " Gaston Bligh 
 Neddy Hi I " 
 
 And underneath a rough sketch of a recalcitrant 
 donkey explained the rhyme. Every one, even 
 my mother, laughed, but Rica hunted me with 
 brays until my life vras a burden. 
 
 I mentally resolved to outrage the rules of Mr. 
 Carson's establishment, and punish the originator 
 of this on my return ; nothing but this determi- 
 nation could have supported me through Rica's 
 persecution. As it fell out, however, I never 
 saw my caricaturer again. 
 
 Meantime, Rica rejoiced, not in the triumph of 
 each successful onslaught, but in the vexation I 
 bore so badly. In cases of appeal to our mothers, 
 both took her part ; mine was always diffident
 
 22 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 about her own — her son, her house, or even her 
 dog. 
 
 It was with no feeling of pleasure that when 
 the bathing season was over I found Mrs. Smith 
 (before his marriage her husband had spelt his 
 name Smythe, an orthography she contemptuously 
 rejected) and Rica were to go with us to Ashhurst. 
 There were certain deficiencies in our establish- 
 ment that Rica would surely sneer at. I exag- 
 gerated the economy of my mother's management : 
 until I saw something of life, I valued appearances 
 too highly. But our cousins were less supercilious 
 than I expected. Our old trees, our house built 
 from a design of Inigo Jones, our squiredom in 
 the parish, impressed Ulrica. 
 
 Returning to my room with its adjacent fishing- 
 ground always reminded me of my Italian aunt's 
 kind eyes, and my ears were quick to hear her 
 name mentioned one day in conversation between 
 my mother and her cousin. 
 
 ^' Have you seen much of your brother since 
 his return?" asked Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " Immediately after their return, Gaston was
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 23. 
 
 ordered bathing ; my anxiety for him prevented 
 my seeing anything of strangers." 
 " Strangers ! but Colonel Godwin ! " 
 "Yes, yes! my dear Cecily," interrupted my 
 mother, nervously, " I know all you would say. 
 Colonel Godwin is my brother, but you know 
 how anxious I am that Gaston should not — in 
 short, I do not wish — Edward's views and mine 
 are so opposed." 
 
 " Oh yes ; I suppose Gaston is hard to manage, 
 and is Colonel Godwin likely to interfere ? " 
 
 ^' You know I cannot be too watchful : Gaston 
 is not all I could wish in character, and any irre- 
 gularity in the plan of his education would " 
 
 " I remember my poor cousin and Colonel 
 Godwin never got on well together." 
 
 "Edward is eccentric," observed my mother, 
 apologetically, "but he has much to unhinge 
 him." 
 
 " And then an Italian wife who must be so 
 unsuited." 
 
 " Yes, it was a foolish affair." 
 " I never heard the details."
 
 24 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I really never knew them myself. I believe 
 Clarice was the daughter of a Neapolitan gentle- 
 man. His political opinions obliged him to come 
 suddenly to Malta with very little property ; 
 Edward met her there. I am glad she is a 
 Protestant, however." 
 
 " What a romance 1 and since then they have 
 lived at Corfu?" 
 
 " You know he could not return to Westcote 
 while my father lived. They tried the experiment 
 for a little time four or five years ago, but my 
 father was not pleased with Edward." 
 
 "I remember — they quarrelled — how very silly 
 family discords always are ! your brother might 
 have married in England only for that." 
 
 " Clarice seemed quiet and ladylike. " 
 
 "Still, what a mistake, for Westcote wants 
 capital ; and they have a daughter." 
 
 "Yes, Sylvia." 
 
 " Who is Sylvia, what is she?" 
 
 " Why Gaston ! " exclaimed Mrs. Smith, sud- 
 denly aware of my presence, "you here?" 
 
 My mother was annoyed ; she never talked
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 25 
 
 of people before me, it was almost a relief to 
 me to hear her gossip. 
 
 " Is it not jour liour for riding ? " slie asked. 
 
 " James can't ride with me to-day, Samson is 
 lame." 
 
 "And are you such a muff that you can't 
 ride alone?" said Mrs. Smith. 
 
 "Mamma does not let me," I replied sulkily. 
 
 "You may to-day " said my mother hurriedly, 
 " but don't leave the grounds. Gaston is not to 
 be trusted as much as I could wish," I heard 
 her add as I left the room.
 
 26 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Cosi da questa immagine divina, 
 
 Per farmi cLiara la mia corta vista, 
 Data mi fu soave medicina." — Dante, 
 
 An insult to a child is a more serious injury 
 than to a man, inasmuch as a child's is a more 
 concentrated existence than a man's. A child 
 believes himself to be the centre of circumstance, 
 a man knows that he is but a knot in the 
 network. A child only feels the relations of 
 things to him, a man meditates on his relation 
 to them. I resented my mother's words, and 
 thought myself the most ill-used of mortals. 
 I took a child's revenge and was disobedient; 
 so breaking bounds I made towards Westcote, 
 four miles distant. Arrived at the gate I found 
 myself too shy to ask admittance, so I passed it, 
 and then I suddenly remembered I was in a
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 27 
 
 scrape. The sun was getting low; and let me 
 trot home ever so fast, I thought, I should be 
 lat^ for tea. Meantime, I laid the rein on my 
 pony's neck and he ambled on, while I alter- 
 nately indulged in vague anxiety and uneasy 
 triumph. 
 
 A turn in the road brought me to a view 
 which is still painted on my memory : I had for 
 some time been riding up a hill between young 
 plantations and high palings ; my eyes were 
 dazzled by the chalky road, and I was depressed 
 by uncertainty. Bat I reached the top of the 
 hill at last. Now, the well-known view is simply 
 an extensive landscape with pleasant undulant 
 outlines, enriched by trees and villages and the 
 variety of light and shade which always gives 
 charm to expanse ; but then, I drew up my 
 pony and leant forward, receiving the beauty 
 of what I saw without consciousness of its details. 
 An inventory of the scene would ill describe 
 the effect of it on me, I felt as if I were growing 
 wings. I half-believed I had but to spread them, 
 and I might fly away through that blue veil
 
 28 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 of shadow in the middle distance, and bathe in 
 the sunlight that melted the edges of the far 
 downs into cloud. I remember nothing of the 
 foreground; I think we learn to appreciate fore- 
 grounds later in life. I strained my eyes to 
 pierce the mystery of the farthest fold of blue 
 air. It had no definite horizon: the thought 
 was an unwritten revelation. But of course this 
 is the analysis of later years, I knew not at the 
 time why I felt sick with heartbeat. 
 
 My pony turned aside to bite at a spike of 
 gorse, and I awoke from my ecstasy, yet I was 
 not the same as before; I have never been the 
 same. I have never ceased to long for wings 
 to hasten me whether to heaven or hell. 
 
 Who that examines their past, can doubt the 
 Wesley and Whitfield tales of conversion? Our 
 life changes at certain crises; from a chrysalis 
 we become a butterfly or a gadfly, as the case 
 may be. 
 
 Puck looked up from his gorse and cocked 
 his ears. A sudden fear of home crashed down on 
 my heart. I thought of riding down tlirough that
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 29 
 
 blue shadow below me ; riding on — anywbere but 
 back. In a second I determined to make for a 
 farm-house that ghttered far away in the evening 
 sunlight. I would ask there for lodcrincr rub 
 down my pony for the night myself, and help 
 the farmer's wife to bake cakes, of which she 
 would ask me to eat one. Next morning at 
 
 daybreak The sound of a horse trotting up 
 
 the hill behind me checked my dreams. 
 
 "Please, sir," said James our coachman, "I'm 
 afraid you will be late home." 
 
 I expected him to be at least surprised. I had 
 run away in thought: I forgot that a ride of 
 six miles, could not seem to James either a hero- 
 ism or a crime. 
 
 " Were you sent after me ? " 
 
 "Xo, sir. I am going to "Watgate about this 
 'oss's ringbone, to the Vet., sir." 
 
 " Yery well ; I may as well return, it 's late, 
 I suppose." I did my best to seem indepen- 
 dent. 
 
 "If you ride smart, sir, you've time." He 
 touched his hat and passed on through my dream-
 
 30 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 land. So I thought of nothing more, but to be 
 back for tea, musing as I rode that it was quite 
 true I was not to be trusted, and that if I were 
 home in time I need say nothing of mj doings ; 
 I had no character to lose if I were found out, so 
 I would run the risk. 
 
 A pony chair came fast behind me. I looked 
 round, and saw that the pale lady driving it could 
 not hold in the horse that drew it, a vicious-look- 
 ing brute, too large for the shafts. He swerved 
 as he passed me, and began kicking violently till 
 he got one leg over a trace, and smashed the 
 slight-built perch. 
 
 The position was critical for the two ladies in 
 the carriage who were quite alone. 
 
 I jumped from my pony, and managed to 
 unhook the traces and lead away the horse ; but in 
 doing so, he struck my arm smartly with a side 
 kick as I stooped to unharness him. 
 
 I gave him to a boy that came up, and turned 
 to see who I had helped. 
 
 '^ You are Gaston Bligh, I think," said the elder 
 lady, with soft foreign accent It was Aunt God-
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 31 
 
 win, and mj cousin Sylvia, now a tall young lady 
 with reserved, shy manner. 
 
 " Dear boy, we owe you much. Your pony has 
 run off, I see, while you were so bravely helping 
 us ; will you come with us to Westcote while he 
 is being caught? If he is not, we can send you 
 home in time to save your mother any alarm." 
 
 I could not refuse. Puck was out of sight ; 
 we turned into the Park of Westcote by a wicket- 
 gate hard by. 
 
 There was a peculiar charm to me about Aunt 
 Godwin's slightest word or look. I know not 
 wherein it consisted, but from the first I gave 
 devotion to her. Her languid gentle manner, 
 her kindly attention to her daughter, who still 
 looked pale, fascinated me even before we reached 
 the house of Westcote. On our way, she 
 stumbled over a branch that lay across the path, 
 and I sprang to assist her. 
 
 ^'You are a devoted cavalier, Gaston," she 
 said, with one of her rather sad smiles. 
 
 I knew not how to speak, I even looked 
 away.
 
 32 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " You will take care of me if I drive with you 
 home and explain your detention?" 
 
 "I said some incoherent thanks. I think she 
 perceived my sudden adoration, for she smiled 
 again as she said : 
 
 " Will you help Sylvia to carry that basket ; 
 it is heavy, though the wildflowers in it are 
 not." 
 
 I turned to obey, and looked at Sylvia for the 
 first time. She was shy and quiet, and I was not 
 at ease with her. The basket kept me near her, 
 and my arm grew painful. She was quite 
 womanly with her finished manner, but she did 
 not appear to have the power of enfolding me 
 with kindness as her mother did ; I felt a kind of 
 jealousy when I saw how together she and her 
 mother were; they seemed like sisters in their 
 mutual confidence, yet so much more than sisters 
 in their mutual love. 
 
 A shadow fell on my aunt's countenance as 
 we crossed her threshold ; but it passed away, and 
 she explained to Colonel Godwin the accident that 
 had befallen her and Sylvia, and told him that I
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 33 
 
 had been at hand, and of service,, with her usual 
 quiet air. 
 
 He greeted us with dignity. I observed that in 
 speaking of his house, his grounds, even of his 
 daughter to his wife, he always said "yours" or 
 "mine," never "our." My uncle treated me as if 
 I were a man ; his polished manner flattered and 
 frightened me at once. I did not know how to 
 receive his deference. 
 
 "Mrs. Godwin, my nephew must stay for 
 dinner." 
 
 I felt sudden glorification in my anticipation 
 of a " grown-up" dinner : I sank the remembrance 
 of that unlucky day when I had fished for this 
 delightful uncle's hat. 
 
 " I think we oucrht to send Gaston home ; Mrs. 
 Bligh will be uneasy," interposed my beautiful 
 aunt. 
 
 I was startled by the look Colonel Godwin cast 
 on his wife ; but he smiled slightly as he said, with 
 a little bow — 
 
 " You are the best judge: I did not know it was 
 a crime to wish for my nephew's society." 
 
 VOL. I. i>
 
 34 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " Dear Edward," began my auiit quickly, but 
 she continued softly — " Tlien shall we keep 
 Gaston, as it is getting late, for the night, and 
 send a message to Ashhurst ? " 
 
 '* I never have a voice. As you like, dearest." 
 
 While my fate was thus discussed, the pain of 
 my arm increased, and I was forced to sit down. 
 
 " You are hurt," said my aunt hastily, stooping 
 over me as I lay back in my chair. Half from 
 faintness, half from the unaccustomed pleasure 
 her kindness gave me, the pain seemed to lessen, 
 and my soul to go out from me to her as she 
 stroked the hair off my forehead. Her words 
 came to me as if filtered through a dream when 
 she said — 
 
 " Poor child, he is fainting — he has been hurt 
 by that horse ! Sylvia mia, the eau de Cologne." 
 
 I remember no more until I found myself lying 
 at full length on a sofa, and that dearest aunt was 
 gently washing my bared arm with arnica lotion 
 that took most of the pain and heat away. 
 Candles had been brought, and the place and 
 figures appeared unreal. I watched awhile before
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 35 
 
 I spoke. My uncle sat in a high-backed chair 
 which threw his head into strong rehef. He was 
 gazing straight before him at the fire, and I had 
 opportunity to learn his features by heart. I have 
 only looked at his eyes five or six times during the 
 many years I have known him. An unacknow- 
 ledged dread of them grew on me afterwards, 
 not of their obser^ving me, but I was ever im- 
 pressed by their strange want of expression. The 
 colour looked boiled out of them, but the eyeballs 
 were bloodshot. 
 
 As I lay dreamily ob5er%dng, I conjured up a 
 vision of an affectionate wolf sitting m my uncle's 
 chair ; yet his features were good, sharply defined, 
 and of the northern type — except his mouth, it was 
 wide with loose lips, yet the retreating chin and 
 weak jaw prevented any impression of sensuality ; 
 light, soft hair, nearly white, and a high, intellectual 
 forehead, which ought to have given him dignity ; 
 but those eyes were inexpressibly painful. 
 
 "You are better, Gaston?" asked my aunt, who 
 looked up and saw me staring hard at my wolf. 
 
 I put my other arm round her neck and kissed 
 
 D 2
 
 38 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 her. I had never done such a thmg before to 
 any one, and I drew back ashamed, when I per- 
 ceived Sylvia coming through the dusky doorway. 
 
 " Dear boy ! " said my aunt caressingly ; then 
 she asked her daughter if the answer had yet 
 come from Ashhurst. 
 
 " It is to papa, dear mamma." 
 
 My wolf turned quickly, and opened the note 
 from my mother with an important air — 
 
 " My sister Bligh is evidently displeased." He 
 beckoned his wife to him, and whispered with much 
 grimace and emphasis, loud enough for me to hear, 
 " Why did you keep him? an impertinent note — 
 just like her ; what is to be done ? " 
 
 " Hush I " murmured my aunt. *^ It would not 
 do for him to return to-night ; what does Mrs. 
 Bligh say ? " She smiled, and then looked grave. 
 "Why, Edward, Mrs. Bligh leaves it to your 
 decision ; and in case Gaston is much hurt she 
 sends his clothes for the night: shall he not stay?" 
 
 " An unfeeling, insolent letter ! " muttered Colonel 
 Godwin ; " settle it as you choose. I shall ride 
 over to-morrow, and just mention my opinion.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 37 
 
 If my wishes were consulted, nothing belong- 
 ing But you always oppose me ! " 
 
 " I will go, uncle Godwin !" I exclaimed, starting 
 up. 
 
 ^* My dear boy, you must not think of such 
 a thing; pray make yourself at home. I must 
 go and write letters ; I do not stand on ceremony, 
 you see. On no account leave us ; your aunt and 
 cousin would be in despair." 
 
 He spoke with great warmth and politeness, 
 and his expression was benevolence itself, but 
 as he left the room he darted an affronted and 
 reproachful look at his wife. 
 
 Somehow w^e all breathed more freely when 
 he was gone ; and my aunt said — 
 
 '^ Read your mother's note, dear Gaston, and 
 judge what she would like, but I think you ought 
 to stay with us to-night 
 
 The note was common-place and cold. My 
 mother left it to the Godwins to decide about me ; 
 but as it might be troublesome to them to send me 
 home, and her coachman was absent, she had sent 
 mv baof.
 
 38 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 I knew she had cause to be angry with me ; 
 but the note was polite : my mother was always 
 well-bred. 
 
 " I will do what you tell me/' I said, looking 
 up, and feeling that my aunt might dispose of 
 my whole life if she chose. 
 
 " Then I say, stay. You must not join us at 
 dinner ; but Sylvia and I will not be long away," 
 
 I don't believe there ever was any one more 
 soft and tender, more perfectly a woman than my 
 aunt. She arranged a table and lamp near me, 
 and left me two or three books ; but I was too 
 full of her to read : I grew hot and impatient, 
 desiring her return, and yet when she did come 
 I wished myself again alone to think of her. 
 Colonel Godwin did not reappear that evening ; he 
 went to his study from the dining-room. I fancied 
 Sylvia looked annoyed as she passed, but I did not 
 watch her ; my aunt turned to the piano with a 
 pre-occupied voice, and after a moment's prelude 
 she sang. 
 
 I had never heard good singing ; Miss Carson 
 whined, Mrs. Smith declaimed. I had always
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 39 
 
 listened to their songs, for tune or rhythm or words 
 interested me. But when Clarice Godwin sang I 
 did not remember these accessories. Her singing 
 gave me yisions. I imagined myself sailing over 
 shoreless seas with Columbus, or with Cortes 
 in the " noche triste," for I had lately read a history 
 of their deeds : afterwards, when my aunt changed 
 her song, the scene shifted, and I charged with Joan 
 of Arc, among the nobles of France — but she was 
 taken, and I heard the groan of her lost strength, 
 when English hands were laid on her : presently 
 the room grew lurid with the flame of her burning, 
 then brighter with white light, for see ! the clouds 
 open, and an endless phalanx of angels receive 
 her into their glory, and the wedge of light cast 
 by their wings lessens in a boundless heaven, until 
 it seems a starlike point of flame ; and even that 
 goes out, and I am left on the dark earth trembling 
 at my loneliness — But a soft hand touched my 
 forehead like the fall of a roseleaf : 
 
 " Did you not like that music, then, Gaston ? 
 I think you did." 
 
 I turned away, I could not speak just then.
 
 ^^ GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " I thought to act a solemn comedy 
 Upon the painted scene of this new world, 
 And to attain my own peculiar ends 
 By some such plot of mingled good and ill 
 As others weave j but there arose a Power 
 Which grasped and snapped the threads of my device, 
 And turned it to a net of ruin." — Shelley. 
 
 "Life is not long enough to recover from inevitable mis- 
 takes." — Fkoude. 
 
 My mother's manner was chillingly cold, but she 
 did not reprove me on my return next day. I 
 found myself, however, thoroughly mistrusted, and 
 deluged with moral axioms that I knew were for 
 my benefit, though I did not always perceive their 
 relevancy. But I was indifferent to many former 
 petty vexations, remembering my aunt Clarice; 
 and I was the less repentant, that I found her 
 manner when she brought me home, had so won
 
 GA5T0N BLIGH. 41 
 
 on my motlier that an interchange of morning visits 
 followed, and at last I heard that she and Sylvia 
 were to spend a week at Ashhurst I expected so 
 much from this that it was a disappointment. 
 Miss Godwin and Miss Smith made a giiiish 
 friendship, and my amit could not break through 
 the hedge of discipline that separated us children 
 from our elders, except at stated hours. 
 
 But I used to watch her least gesture, and I 
 sometimes earned a word of kindness, or better 
 still, a look. 
 
 I think the purest feeling of our lives is this 
 first devotion. Remembering mine, I can com- 
 prehend those tales of knightly self-immolation 
 which are told of the childhood of our European 
 world. There is no speculation in it — no reason- 
 ableness. It is a mirage of the Eden state, when 
 the first man did not yet discriminate between 
 good and eviL 
 
 But if I were chivalrous as one of the douze 
 peers, I was equally lawless during this phase 
 of my boyhood. 
 
 My mother's rules of life of course clashed
 
 42 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 with my impulses, and Orlando innamorato 
 became Orlando farioso. A thousand trifling 
 restraints which had seemed hitherto as much 
 matters of course as the sunrise, became morti- 
 fications — reproofs were injuries and discipline 
 tyranny. I have had real discipline and sorrow 
 since ; but I know not if life ever has appeared 
 so insupportable as during that week. My aunt's 
 presence increased my temptations. I saw she 
 was often sorry for my fits of sullenness or 
 passion ; but I would not try to be a good boy, 
 I wanted to be a man. Once free from Mrs. 
 Smith's ridicule — from Ulrica's contempt — from 
 the indignities of my daily life, how I would 
 prove myself worthy of Clarice Godwin ! Mean- 
 time I grew hourly more rebellious. 
 
 It was some relief to be utterly impertinent 
 to Mrs. Smith one day, when she addressed me 
 in her strong-minded able-bodied way, as "you 
 fool of a boy." It was a further luxury to defy 
 my mother, and bid her do her worst, when 
 she ordered me to be locked-up in my room. 
 Once there, however, I reflected that I had been
 
 GASTOX BLIGH. 43 
 
 childish in these gratifications. Clarice must 
 despise me — what could I do at once to revenge 
 myself, and vindicate my powers ? 
 
 Quite suddenly, I resolved what I would do, 
 and from that moment I do not think I once 
 considered if it were right or wrong, so entirely 
 was I absorbed in considering how to execute 
 my plan. 
 
 About seven o'clock in the evening I was 
 shut into my fireless, dark room; some books 
 on my table were taken away, and so I was left 
 to spend the night. Clarice Godwin's room was 
 next mine, and one of its windows opened like 
 mine, on the leads of the portico ; my mother's 
 door was on the opposite side of the corridor. 
 Suppose I were to set fire to the house ; I would 
 save my aunt, the rest might escape as they 
 could. 
 
 The thought once admitted, possessed me to 
 the exclusion of all reflection; I walked up and 
 down in a fever of anticipation. To the minutest 
 detail I arranged my plans. I enacted the scene 
 of Clarice's rescue; I was impatient for the
 
 44 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 leaping flames, the clouds of smoke through 
 which T was to guide her. At last I heard her 
 go into her room for the night, and a few minutes 
 after, mj mother and Mrs. Smith passed by my 
 door. My mother said something in a low voice, 
 to which Mrs. Smith replied. 
 
 "If his father were alive, a flogging would 
 set the boy right." 
 
 *' Hush, my dear Cicely ; his father particularly 
 disapproved " 
 
 "No, some generous natures do not require 
 it, but Gaston " 
 
 I did not hear more: I lighted a bundle of 
 paper and matches which I had prepared. It 
 was not difficult to set fire to the wainscot ; a 
 partition wall of lath and plaster smoked and 
 crackled. I remember that one of the beams 
 that supported the roof was near the flame. 
 Then, then I felt the agony of irremediable wrong. 
 As strong and overwhelming as the temptation 
 came the remorse. I had formed no true idea 
 of ungoverned fire; I pictured to myself the 
 upward tending flame and smoke, as well regu-
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 45 
 
 lated as tlie daily drawing-room blaze, only on 
 a larger scale. But here were eddies of thick 
 dust-laden vapour, and stifling smells, and strange 
 noises in the night that had been so still. I 
 became frantic with horror; the mouth of hell, 
 of which I read in the Pilcrrim's Proo-ress, seemed 
 open before me; horrible forms crept about the 
 room, serpents of flame twisted in and out to- 
 wards me. I forgot my plan of escape by the 
 leads, and only remembered that my door was 
 locked outside. Even now, that ten minutes 
 seems a horrible dream, and not the least di'eam- 
 like part ?vas the vision I saw through the thick 
 smoke. Clarice Godwin stood in the open door- 
 way dressed in white, with long floating hair. 
 The rushing vapour swept by her while she passed 
 calmly through it. It seemed to rise up in a 
 wall at either side of her, as if it could not 
 touch or hiu't her. I stood silently, stupified with 
 shame. 
 
 She took my hand, and hurried me with her 
 to my mother's room; a general alarm soon fol- 
 lowed, but too late: it was difficult to supply
 
 46 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 water, and the nearest engine was at Watgate. 
 My mother and her guests took refuge in Gibson 
 the bailiff's house. I joined feverishly in the 
 efforts of the workmen, and young as I was, I did, 
 I think, as much as any there. They applauded 
 my daring, wondered at my strength, and re- 
 monstrated with me for exposing my life; but 
 each word stung me to madder attempts. In 
 vain ; by three o'clock in the morning the flames 
 had spread to the roof, and the falling floors 
 carried fire to the lower stories, making it impos- 
 sible for us to stay in them. 
 
 "Thank God there are no lives lost!" said 
 Gibson, standing a second to take breath; 
 but even while he spoke, a cry was raised 
 that a woman was still in the house. We 
 rushed to the rear from whence the word came, 
 and saw a girl leaning far out of an upper 
 window, half stupified by fear, half stifled by 
 smoke. 
 
 Poor child, she was about my o^^ii age. Her 
 mother, our cook, had seen her, as she thought, 
 safe ; but the silly child had gone back for some
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 47 
 
 trifle, and found her return cut off "by a fallen 
 partition. In our hurry and shouting at the 
 front of the house where the fire rag-ed most, we 
 had not heard her cries. 
 
 The highest ladder was pushed up, but it 
 did not reach two-thirds of the required height. 
 I snatched a coil of light rope that lay near, 
 and passed it over my shoulders ; I had the 
 ladder placed against a jointed iron water-pipe 
 that ran up by a window on that story, and 
 could give a sort of footing at each joint. I 
 could climb well, and valued life little at that 
 moment. I thank God I did not fall. I reached 
 the little attic window, and making the rope 
 fast to a bedpost within, I flung the other end 
 to a fireman below. Between us, we saved the 
 child; we saved her without hurt we thought, 
 but her mind grew no more after that shock. 
 She has been half-witted ever since. 
 
 The reaction, after the agony of seeing myself 
 thus on the brink of murder, was more than my 
 strung powers could bear, but I yet had strength 
 left to creep away to a copse at hand, where no
 
 48 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 one would find me to praise or pity me — for that 
 I dreaded more than solitude. I suffered keen 
 pain, for my hands and knees were blistered 
 by the heated pipe I had clung to. I felt my 
 strength leaving'me ; I thought I was dying, but 
 I only fainted. 
 
 When I recovered consciousness in the keen 
 morning air, I found my aunt Clarice leaning 
 over me. 
 
 " Dear Gaston, we have been anxious for you : 
 are you hurt?" 
 
 This then was the end of my romance. Clarice 
 found me hiding from my own work. But she 
 was alone. She stooped and took my hand, which 
 was, in spite of blistered fingers, nervously tearing 
 up the grass and weeds about. Her touch loosed 
 my heart, my feelmgs broke like a tide over all 
 restraints. 
 
 She soothed me, as only she could, and at last I 
 looked at her. Her eyes were full of tears, her 
 lip quivered. I sat up, and leaning my head on 
 her shoulder I told her all the truth. 
 
 " Poor dear Gaston," she said softly, '' I knew
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 49 
 
 what you had done, and I hoped you would not 
 hide it from me." 
 
 The gentle, tremulous tone in which she 
 spoke revealed to me my full guilt. The 
 accent was so sad I shrank away from her 
 with despairing horror of myself; but she drew 
 me to her while I passionately sobbed out my 
 remorse. Her silence and pit^^ng ways were the 
 truest lesson, the best correction. The evil in me 
 was for the time subdued. 
 
 "You will tell your mother, Gaston?" she 
 asked, almost imploringly, 
 " Must every one know ? " 
 " Your mother will decide, dear boy." 
 "I am ready," I said. We walked slowly to 
 Gibson's house, where my aunt spoke some words 
 aside to my mother, and then left us alone together. 
 I will not dwell on what followed. My mother 
 preserved a cold, judicial manner, and tried to 
 assume the impartiality of a court of justice. She 
 gave me credit for the animal courage which had 
 supported me in my brave but reckless conduct 
 at the last ; this cut me deeper than reproaches 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 would. Every moment my heart hardened more 
 and more, but I doggedly confessed all the facts 
 though I would not lay bare my feelings. At 
 length my mother passed sentence thus: 
 
 " Gaston, you have been guilty of the crime of 
 arson, which nearly entailed the death of a fellow- 
 creature, and put many lives in danger. I hardly 
 know if duty does not oblige me to give you up to 
 those who know better how to punish such great 
 crime than I do. An older man would be liable 
 to transportation." 
 
 I had listened sullenly, but I started at this view 
 of my position : young as I was I had the credit of 
 the Blighs of Ashhurst at heart. 
 
 " I must consult," she continued. 
 
 " It is no use," I interrupted ; " I know that I 
 have committed a crime : send me to jail at once 
 or trust me for the future ; but do not consult 
 any one, don't let me have disgrace instead of 
 punishment." 
 
 It was a very reasonable reply for a child as I 
 was, but I had grown older than my years that 
 night.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 51 
 
 "I have not decided," my mother returned 
 inflexibly. "Go now; and if you can, be silent, or 
 you may cause worse misfortune yet, perhaps." 
 
 I left her presence slowly ; and, while I yet stood 
 at the door, I heard within the room the sound 
 of bitter weeping, mingled with broken prayers 
 for guidance and for my welfare, but I ^^a5 not 
 then fit to appreciate my mother's love, hidden 
 from me with such pains. But I do now, remem- 
 bering that passion of grief which bowed her to 
 the ground. 
 
 Clarice was near at hand. After some delay, 
 she obtained admittance from my mother ; mean- 
 time I went out, and, fiercely breaking though the 
 underwood, I wandered to and fro in the thickest 
 of our woods. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 GASTON BLIGE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "These things, when I was but a child, did so distress my 
 soul that in the midst of my childish sports I was often much 
 cast down and afflicted in my mmd therewith." 
 
 BuNYAN. Grace Abounding. 
 
 I FOECE myself to dwell on this passage because 
 it coloured the remainder of my life, but even now, 
 when I can better distinguish crime from crimi- 
 nality, I look on my confession with dread. 
 
 The memory of that night was a nightmare on 
 my subsequent youth. I felt no more discontent 
 or impatience at any punishment. Not that I 
 was more patient, but that I was haunted by a 
 belief that I was not only guilty of a great offence, 
 but more capable than others of fresh crime. I 
 had no friends and gave no confidences, for I 
 exaggerated the consequences of discovery ; and 
 the necessity of secresy grew daily more impera- 
 tive, until the burden of it was almost more than
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 53 
 
 I could bear. It is true time blunted my remorse, 
 but a certain fear of myself strengthened Avitli 
 my strength, and the great fire loomed larger 
 in the distance until the smoke of it shut out 
 heaven and obscured earth. Ashhurst remained 
 a ruin ; we were too poor, even had I not been 
 a minor, to rebuild it. My mother had received 
 a shock that seriously affected her health. She 
 went abroad with the Smiths, first placing me 
 with a tutor recommended to her as perfectly 
 trustworthy. 
 
 I never knew if she had confided to him the 
 circumstance which decided her on committing 
 me to his care, but I felt she had, and I was never 
 without the uneasy consciousness that his severe 
 rules, rigidly enforced, were retrospective, and 
 some of them framed for my peculiar benefit. 
 
 Years passed on monotonously, and my mother 
 did not return, I could not wonder, as I had 
 destroyed her home. I think Mrs. Smith per- 
 suaded her that it was better for me to pass 
 my holidays with my tutor, Mr. Rolt. I per- 
 ceived it -was not her own decision by her
 
 54 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 forcible expression of the arguments in favour 
 of it. 
 
 Mr. Rolt was unmarried ; he usually made 
 short excursions during the vacations, and took 
 me with him, but the habit of solitude which 
 had grown on me, hindered me from enjoying 
 them, and I knew and cared little about scenery. 
 At last the surface of my life was in a measure 
 broken. Mr. Rolt was forced to attend the dying 
 bed of a near relative ; he would not leave me 
 to myself— he never did, even for a day. There 
 was no time to consult my mother ; but I sug- 
 gested that my uncle Colonel Godwin would 
 receive me if he were at home. Mr. Rolt caught 
 at the proposal ; he wrote to my uncle : the 
 answer though singular was sufficiently satisfac- 
 tory, and the same morning I was left by my 
 tutor at Watgate station — the nearest to West- 
 cote — while he went on to London. 
 
 It was a wet day, and I ordered a fly for 
 myself and my portmanteau ; but after some miles 
 of featureless road, between dank autumn hedges 
 and mouldy park palings, the clouds drew up
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 55 
 
 their ragged curtains, and the sun cast a pale 
 slant light, like dust on the brown trees and 
 bushes. I watched the trailing fringes of vapour 
 sweeping across the primrose sky, until the night 
 was nearly come, though I looked without observ- 
 ing — a habit I had. The driver opened the door 
 to ask me if I knew which road to follow where 
 two met. I got out to judge better, and found 
 myself on the brow of Westcote hill, the spot 
 from whence I had looked out four years before 
 and worshipped Infinity. Storm veiled the horizon 
 now instead of sunlight : a pale star trembled 
 on the torn edge of cloud, which momently 
 threatened to eclipse her, yet never did. I sent 
 the fly on, and stood to w^atch the contest with 
 vague interest, but the moon with broad white 
 browns glared down triumphantly through a rift 
 overhead, and fluncr the illusion of her light over 
 the dripping earth, and my star was blotted 
 out, but a thousand others twinkled on the rotting 
 leaves on either side of my path, and all the 
 foreground was beautiful as fairy-land — so beau- 
 tiful that I could not see the pools of water on the
 
 56 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 shining road, but stepped in many a one as I 
 walked: suddenly tlie light went out, I turned 
 to look for my star but she was gone, and all the 
 west was dark with rain. 
 
 " Please to get in, young gentleman ; the night 
 looks for storm, and I must hurry back to 
 Watgate." 
 
 Shortly after, I arrived at Westcote.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. • 57 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Quale i fioretti dal notturno gielo 
 
 Chinati e chiusi, poi che'l sol gV imbianca 
 Si drizzan tutti aperti in loro stelo ; 
 Tal mi fee' io di mia virtute stanca." — Daxte. 
 
 Though my uncle came himself to the door, 
 and welcomed me warmly, an unaccountable 
 embarrassment crept over me as be assured me 
 repeatedly of bis gratification at my arrival. 
 
 He looked whiter than ever, but his face 
 was of a discoloured white, like old ivory. His 
 manner was oppressively polite, and he treated me 
 with a courtly attention due only to some stranger 
 of his own age. 
 
 '' Mrs. Godwin is not strong," he said, apolo- 
 getically ; " I have reason to hope the house of 
 Godwin will not be without an heir to the name. 
 It possesses one, however, to all else," he added.
 
 58 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 with a little bow to me. ** Sylvia must do the 
 honours in her mother's absence. You remember 
 Sylvia, my dear nephew ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, sir ; but shall I not see Mrs. 
 Godwin?" 
 
 " We shall find her in the drawing-room after 
 dinner, but the dressing bell has rung ; allow me 
 to show you your room." 
 
 My incipient manhood was gratified by this 
 reception. I put away the past as well as I 
 could, and attired myself, with the help of two 
 looking-glasses, in my first tailed coat. It made a 
 change that nothing else could between my last 
 and my present visit to Godlands : I felt strong 
 even to meet my aunt. My uncle was alone when 
 I rejoined him ; he rang the bell impatiently, but 
 addressed the servant who answered it with 
 blandness. 
 
 " Why is dinner not served ; and where is Miss 
 Godwin?" 
 
 " It wants ten minutes of seven, sir. Here is 
 Miss Godwin." 
 
 The room was dimly lighted ; I could not see
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 59 
 
 more than that Sylvia was rather tall and slight. 
 She returned my greeting silently, and sat down 
 immediately, with a certain habitual dread of 
 being criticised. 
 
 The remaining ten minutes before dinner my 
 uncle talked politics, and asked for my opinion 
 several times, but did not wait to be answered, 
 which was fortunate, as I knew little of how 
 public affairs were conducted since the fall of the 
 Roman empire, when, however, I believe the art 
 of " how not do it," was carried to great perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 I took my cousin into dinner, and endeavoured 
 to address her with a remark I had been some 
 time preparing, but I unluckily walked on her 
 dress. I was not only silenced, but I let her am 
 di'op, and disconsolately followed her to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 My uncle placed me at the foot of the table. 
 I carved badly, and my discomforts increased 
 in proportion as he apologized for me, or the dish 
 I had defaced, or the knives. He blamed every 
 accessory until I felt guilty of serious blunders.
 
 60 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Miss Godwin's silence added to my embarrass- 
 ment 
 
 Her father did not address lier during dinner. 
 When she was gone, he asked me to draw close to 
 the fire, and after a preamble, expressing con- 
 fidence in me, and a high opinion of my judg- 
 ment, he related to me many details of his family 
 affairs. I was flattered by his constant reference 
 to my opinion, and felt myself very wise and 
 discreet. 
 
 He made no direct charges; indeed there was 
 plausible consideration in all he said; but when 
 we joined the ladies I had a vague impression 
 that he was an unhappy and misunderstood man, 
 too amiable to get through the friction of life 
 without loss and suffering at every hand. Sylvia 
 was his great trial ; it might in a measure be the 
 fault of her education, doubtless there were faults 
 on both sides ; but she did not appreciate his 
 love for her. He feared she was cold and selfish ; 
 she did not even pay that devoted care to her 
 mother which would reconcile him to the want of 
 affection for himself.
 
 GASTON LLIGrH. 61 
 
 " Perhaps you do not know, Gaston, that by 
 my unfortunate marriage, I alienated my father, 
 who entailed my estate so strictly that I can do 
 little with it. I cannot hut fear that knowledge of 
 this has affected Sylvia's disposition. She is not 
 tender to her mother — jealousy and covetousness, 
 my dear nephew, are sad faults. ]My poor child ! 
 But I know your aunt looks forward to seeing you; 
 be very gentle with her, she is miserably nervous." 
 
 My uncle's manner had grown more cheery 
 and cordial with each sentence; he leaned on 
 me affectionately as we crossed the hall, and I 
 could not but be impressed by the tenderness of 
 his words as he bent over Clarice's couch. 
 
 My voice would not come when I tried to reply 
 to her greeting ; I barely touched her hand : her 
 voice fell silver clear through the dull noise of 
 my rushing pulses. 
 
 If we had been alone I would have spoken ; but 
 Sylvia was by, and I had no common words at 
 
 wm. 
 
 Clarice always read my feelings. Though my 
 hand touched hers so languidly, she pressed it
 
 62 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 with her old tenderness and spoke for me. How 
 ill and changed she looked, with the angular look 
 that pain gives about her eyelids and brows, but 
 the soft smile had not left her mouth. 
 
 My uncle altered her cushions fussily, and 
 found fault with Sylvia; then he asked me if I 
 played backgammon. I could not refuse his 
 proposal of a hit, which I lost. I felt my aunt 
 was looking at us, and the past came breaking 
 over my thoughts like surf, so that I forgot the 
 present until Clarice touched my shoulder to bid 
 me good-night, and I roused myself to find my 
 uncle chuckling mightily over a series of Adctories, 
 while Sylvia's large grey eyes were fixed on me 
 as she stood with her mother's candle lighting 
 up her beautiful but too calm face.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 63 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes 
 I, all alone, beweep my outcast state. 
 And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries, 
 And look upon myself and curse my fate, 
 Wishing me like to one more rich in hope. 
 Featured like him, like him with friends possessed. 
 Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 
 With what I most enjoy contented least- 
 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 
 Haply I think on thee, and then my state. 
 Like to the lark at break of day arising 
 From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast next morning, at 
 wliich my aunt did not appear, Colonel Godwin 
 asked me to ride over with him to Ashhurst. 
 " I should have been glad," he said, with a 
 grand air, " to have assisted my sister Bligh in 
 the management of your property; but she was 
 always led by those immediately about her. In
 
 64 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 the sad affair of the fire, for instance, who but 
 she would have allowed that to pass over without 
 an inquiry into the cause ? You find your horse 
 fidgetty, I fear. The house had been insured 
 to the value of seven thousand pounds, but there 
 was some informality of dates. The insurance 
 company hadn't a leg to stand on, but your 
 mother gave in, in spite of my entreaties. I 
 almost went down on my knees to her to save 
 that seven thousand pounds, and she wouldn't 
 bring an action. I'm quite sure the houskeeper or 
 Mrs. Smith influenced her — ride with the snaffle, 
 my dear boy — perhaps the fire was from gross 
 negligence, but your poor mother was always 
 obstinate." 
 
 A new fear seized me : could this insurance 
 company still institute inquiries ? I dared not ask 
 my uncle, I feared to be questioned; above all, 
 I feared to see the ruins and Gibson, lest I should 
 betray myself. I excused myself, on some pretence 
 or other, from visiting Ashhurst that day. My 
 uncle was courtesy itself; and, without remark on 
 my caprice, we rode back to Westcote.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 65 
 
 I shut myself into my room, and gave way to 
 one of those fevers of anxiety which from time to 
 time beset my youth. Walking up and down the 
 room was too monotonous an action to give relief. 
 I paused at the window, and the grey gloom of a 
 November day drove me back. I longed for 
 anything that would relieve me from gnawing at 
 myself, and lift off the weight of irreparable wrong 
 and inevitable evil which haunted me. If I had 
 looked the shadowy phantom of my imagination 
 in the face I would have taken courage, but I 
 was too young to analyse and excuse, too young 
 to know how young I was. My uncle's words 
 gave practical magnitude to my crime. Insurance 
 companies I conceived to be vast and relentlessly 
 unerring machines. Had my mother, had Clarice, 
 betrayed me, perhaps without knowing that they 
 did ? Yet it would be almost a relief to be 
 punished. A momentary desii'e for physical pain 
 seized me ; I twisted my interlaced fingers, and 
 found some relief from mental offering in the 
 sickening sensation of the pain I inflicted. I did 
 not hear my aunt's knock, or know she was in 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 6Q GASTON BLiaH. 
 
 the room, until her low foreign voice inquired 
 if I were ill. 
 
 '' You look so pale, Gaston." 
 
 " It is nothing." 
 
 " I came to ask if you would not come and sit 
 with Sylvia and me. I am sure you are in some 
 way suffering ; why did you not hear me knock ? " 
 
 She leant her thin arm on mine and brought 
 me to her sitting-room ; Sylvia was not there, 
 she had gone to write for her father in his 
 study, and I took her place next Clarice's sofa. 
 She rested her dear hand on my shoulder and 
 asked me questions of my inner life : I did not 
 know how to reply, for I had no inner life that 
 was not quenched in shadow ; but Clarice drew 
 out of me thoughts and hopes on which I had 
 never dwelt before, yet I was constrained, until 
 with an effort I said tremulously — 
 
 " You know I have not looked forward as 
 others do since that night." 
 
 I did not wait for her to speak ; I rose quickly, 
 for the breaking of my four years' silence troubled 
 me, but her touch drew me down again.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 67 
 
 She lay silent for awhile, then she said, with 
 hesitation — 
 
 " Few people could look forward, I fear, if a 
 sense of past wrong-doing made it impossible. 
 But there is no irreparable wrong, dear Gaston." 
 
 ^^ How can I repair mine?" I asked, still look- 
 ing on the ground. 
 
 " You cannot ; but you can be Another's 
 instrument, please God," she added, but in so 
 low a voice that I glanced up, fearing that she 
 might be ill. She did look very pale, but she 
 went on hurriedly — 
 
 " Do not think yourself isolated, Gaston ; T 
 fear many commit great wrong. Try to join 
 those who struggle away from the precipice they 
 have approached." 
 
 I felt she thought of herself as well as of me, 
 and I w^as reverently silent, while I longed for 
 more of her broken words. 
 
 "But few make themselves liable to punish- 
 ment," I said, after a pause. 
 
 " Punishment is a relief," she replied, quickly. 
 
 " Dear aunt, what do you know of it?" 
 
 F '2
 
 68 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " Something. I thank God, something," she 
 repeated, and I fancied her lips moved with other 
 words I did not hear. 
 
 " Gaston, I will tell you of the weight on my 
 life. I disoheyed my father in my marriage. 
 I brought him to sorrow by my obstinate wilful- 
 ness. I fear I broke his heart, for he loved me 
 as the one treasure left to him on earth. I did 
 not see him again. I believe he forgave my 
 crime, but I know nothing. I had no message 
 from him before he died." 
 
 ''And since?" 
 
 " Since, I have suffered." 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 *' I know that all was well. He may yet 
 forgive me." 
 
 I would have asked more ; but I gazed at her 
 calm beauty, idealized by the divine spirit in 
 her, and forgot myself. I did not know then 
 that in it I might trace her past history, and 
 in her soft slow eyes, earnest when she spoke, 
 but languid when she looked; her hand a little 
 tremulous at times, her mouth sad when at rest, yet
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 69 
 
 breaking often into a kind^ not gay smile ; above 
 all, in her voice> soft as her heart, but clear and 
 true as her purpose. Along her more earnest 
 words a tremble ran as if they shook with her 
 intensity, while under the rippling sounds lay 
 depths of beauty, reflections of the light above, 
 more lovely than reality ; golden sands, or better 
 still, the half-seen recesses of a life hid with God. 
 Her voice echoed more and more in my heart 
 as it grew larger; echoed through the roar of 
 pulses fevered by passion; echoed through the 
 fierce chiding of sorrow — echo still, like the sound 
 of distant chimes calling me across the waste of 
 life to worship among the congregation who cele- 
 brate their eternal sabbath.
 
 70 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Egli e un uomo, signore, di un carrattere stravagante. 
 
 " E di bonissimo fondo, ma assai burbero, e fantastico al 
 sommo " 
 
 " Ho incontrato adesso quel satiro ; egli strillaya, striUara 
 come va. 
 
 " Parlate voi di mio zio ? 
 
 " Egli e un uomo insupportabile," — Goldoxi. 
 
 Clarice was about to break tbe silence that 
 had gathered round us, when Sylvia came in. 
 She looked anxiously at her mother, who was 
 pale and exhausted, and then a little curiously 
 at me. I was in no humour to bear the presence 
 of a third. Sylvia's interruption vexed me, and 
 her right to be her mother's companion. I was 
 sure she did not understand Clarice, my Clarice, 
 now that she had spoken to me of herself. I 
 left them and wandered out into the grounds.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 71 
 
 and thought deliciouslj of each ^YO^d, each tone, 
 Clarice had used. 
 
 I was startled from my feast by sounds of 
 altercation. The disputants came rapidly nearer. 
 At a turn in the walk my uncle and the gar- 
 dener appeared: 
 
 *^ Begone, sir, I will engage some one who 
 will not rob and cheat as you do. Send up your 
 keys to-night. Begone I" 
 
 The man turned on his heel, whistling. My 
 uncle advanced to me with ultra courtesy, but 
 for all the surface-calm, there was a heavy 
 swell in his manner. 
 
 " I am surrounded, my dear nephew, by a 
 set of inconceivable robbers, encouraged, I regret 
 to say, by Mrs. Godwin. She induced me, for 
 what motive I cannot conceive, to keep that 
 brute whom I have just dismissed. My insight 
 into character is wonderful. I am never mistaken, 
 yet your aunt constantly opposes me. I am sure, 
 living in a clergyman's family as you have done, 
 you must know a good deal about gardening. 
 You shall help me to heat the stove to-night;
 
 72 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 there are some plants forcing for the drawing- 
 room that we must look after. I assure you I 
 know something of everything; and with your 
 help, my dear Gaston, we will prove ourselves 
 superior to gardeners. Believe me, half of them 
 are humbugs." 
 
 By the end of this long speech, my uncle was 
 quite gay in the prospects of his floricultural 
 achievements. I was perplexed, but a little 
 dazzled at being appointed his coadjutor. 
 
 He was gracious at dinner to Sylvia, and 
 afterwards, summoning a detachment of house- 
 servants, we lighted the hot-house fire. My uncle 
 made a little fete of the occasion, and gave a 
 bottle of wine to the servants hall. When we 
 went to the drawing-room he kissed Sylvia 
 tenderly, and invited her to sit by him on a 
 sofa, from whence he uttered mysterious and 
 magnificent hints of his eclectic powers. His 
 wife and daughter were passive in their recep- 
 tion of his self-gratulation. I knew my aunt 
 was tired and languid, but I thought Sylvia 
 unfeeling.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 73 
 
 A clear white frost the following day animated 
 our spirits, and we began this morning with equal 
 serenity within and without. When Mrs. Godwin 
 appeared, my uncle proposed a walk in the 
 garden, to which she assented with some sur- 
 prise, and he went in solemn yet triumphant 
 procession to the stove which contained Clarice's 
 expected Christmas guests. The day before, 
 there were budding roses of perfume inestimable 
 at that scentless season, voluptuous Devoniensis 
 and warm-hearted moss, lilies of the valley, 
 standing purely white in the green shade of 
 leaves, as one could have fancied an angel-guard 
 in Paradise, and heaths dripping colour down 
 their feathery boughs, too slight to catch it in 
 masses as the camelias did. This house had 
 been my aunt's especial home, each flower was 
 personally dear to her. 
 
 Colonel Godwin opened the door as if he had 
 all- his life been gardener, and we went in. 
 
 The colour went and came in crimson flushes 
 on Clarice's face, when she saw the ruin that 
 had been wrought.
 
 74 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 We had forgotten to leave open an escape- 
 valve of the boiler that heated the pipes. It had 
 burst, tearing down several feet of wall, and 
 shattering most of the glass of the roof. Some of 
 the plants were scalded to death, others destroyed 
 by the frost to "which they were exposed. 
 
 The poor flowers ! their shrivelled leaves clung 
 like bats' wings to their stalks, and instead of 
 perfume we were greeted by the smell of rapid 
 decay. 
 
 I was too dismayed to speak, but my uncle, 
 looking expressively at me, rapidly accounted 
 for the disaster. Had I been ignorant of the 
 truth, I should have gathered from his vehement 
 abuse of the gardener that he had fiendishly 
 planned this tragedy for months, and with base 
 ingratitude had enacted it diu'ing the night; 
 whether by collusion with steam or frost. Colonel 
 Godwin did not explain. 
 
 I was taken aback by the state of rage and 
 volubility to which my uncle worked himself. 
 Digressing from his injuries as a master, he 
 described those he had endured through a long
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 75 
 
 and lie trusted a meritorious life. At first I 
 believed liim to be at once the most illused yet 
 best of men ; but, after a wliile, I began to wonder at 
 bis self-assertion, and at last I turned to see how 
 my aunt bore the fault negatively found with her. 
 
 She looked sad, but not surprised as I was. 
 Her eyes wandered from plant to plant with 
 patient regret, and glanced at her daughter's 
 downcast face. 
 
 My uncle seeing this, turned abruptly away, 
 and passing his hand across his eyes, he mur- 
 mured some broken complaints that he had never 
 succeeded in gaining the love and confidence of 
 those he had served so devotedly. 
 
 Clarice drew her arm through his, as he 
 was leaving the house, but she failed to soothe 
 him for some time: she did not re-appear that 
 evening, and Sylvia stayed with her as she 
 generally did. 
 
 My uncle read the papers, and scarcely spoke 
 to me ; his courtesy was greater than ever, but 
 it had lost its frankness, and was evidently a 
 performance.
 
 76 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 A week crept slowly by ; Colonel Godwin did 
 not again offer me a mount, or propose that I 
 should visit Ashhurst. Once or twice I walked 
 with him about his farm, but he was never again 
 disposed to talk of his family affairs, except on 
 one occasion, when he praised Sylvia very 
 elaborately, and assured me she was his only 
 object in life. He looked curiously at me as 
 he spoke, I did not know why.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Dunque che e ? Perche perche ristai ? 
 Perche tanta vilta nel cuor allette ? 
 Perche ardire e franchezza non hai ? " — Da>'te. 
 
 " Non rider gli occhi miei cosa mortale, 
 Quando refulse in me la prima face 
 Dei tuoi sereni ; e in lor ritrovar pace 
 L'alma spero, che sempre al suo fin sale." 
 
 MiCHELAGNOLO. 
 
 The few words my aunt had spoken to me of 
 myself made me long restlessly for more sym- 
 pathy from her. Each morning I hoped for 
 undisturbed intercourse with her, each night I 
 went to my room, discontented — Sylvia was always 
 by her mother's side. If, full of an expected 
 tete a tete, I knocked at the door of their sitting- 
 room, I found that I had interrupted a communion 
 of mother and daughter, that made an atmosphere 
 about them in which my selfish wishes seemed
 
 78 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 extinguished. In Clarice's presence I had no 
 conflicting feelings, she quelled my egotism ; but 
 alone again, my selfish disappointment broke into 
 jealousy and dislike of Sylvia, who loved and 
 was beloved so freely, so intensely: I was even 
 angry with Clarice' who would not let me be 
 what Sylvia was to her. 
 
 After one or two ineffectual efforts to take 
 Sylvia's place, if it were but for an hour, by 
 her mother's sofa, I withdrew and tried to occupy 
 myself in the library. But I could only think 
 of her as she lay pale and worn in the next 
 room, her eyes resting with unutterable love on 
 her daughter, her slight hand on Sylvia's bowed 
 head in unspoken but continuous prayer and 
 blessing. 
 
 At last my chance came ; Colonel Godwin had 
 sent for his daughter — Clarice asked me to come 
 and sit with her. 
 
 Strange perversity ! I lingered in the passage, I 
 went and stood at the ftirthest window of her 
 room, and when I took the offered chair beside 
 her I sat with sullen heart and downcast eyes.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 79 
 
 She understood: she did not judge me; but 
 she tried to raise me out of my selfishness. 
 
 " Dear Gaston, will you take care of me 
 awhile ; will you be instead of Sylvia ? " 
 
 " How can that be ? " I asked bitterly. 
 
 " Let me talk to you about myself ; the ice 
 has not grown again between us?" She took my 
 hand in hers. 
 
 " I told you the great soitow of ni}- life, Gaston : 
 think what my child is to me, and how I cling 
 to her. Her great love for me seems a pledge 
 to me of forgiveness." 
 
 But I said coldly, for I still doubted of any 
 love to equal mine — 
 
 " Is her love great ? " 
 
 She looked at me, half sorrowfully, half re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " And if you care to be loved," I went on 
 impetuously, " why do you reject mine ? Why 
 is Sylvia your only thought on earth. I have 
 no friend, and I thought you would be one ; 
 my mother " 
 
 " Don't, Gaston," she interrupted, with a pained
 
 80 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 expression. " Let me speak freely to you. May 
 I?" 
 
 « Yes, help me." 
 
 She was silent a moment ; then very gently she 
 pointed out to me my egotism and selfishness. 
 She did not use those words, but for the first 
 time in my life I knew what they meant. I 
 wished that moment to make reparation. 
 
 « What must I do ?" I asked. 
 
 " You must love others, Gaston." 
 
 " In this world I have none to love but you." 
 I murmured. 
 
 " Love me yet more, dear boy, and if I die 
 you T\'ill be the happier for so doing." 
 
 "You die!" 
 
 " It may be so. I may never speak to you of , 
 yourself again. You are not hurt that I am 
 so plain with you ? No, I thought not," she 
 continued when I looked up imploringly, " I 
 fear " 
 
 " Do not fear," I exclaimed, " only direct me." 
 
 " I fear you have sufiering before you, my 
 Gaston ; I fear you will not fear "
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 81 
 
 " Have I not enough to check self-confidence?" 
 
 " Do not isolate yourself; never lose an oppor- 
 tunity of loving others ; your neighbour suffers 
 too, comfort him, and you will he comforted. 
 Try to love, Gaston. It is not enough to admire, 
 to appreciate. They are, after all, but forms of 
 self-assertion." 
 
 " One must be beloved to love." 
 
 " True, true," she answered : and a gleam of 
 light fell from her smile as she leant back in 
 silence for a second. " And how much love we 
 owe!" 
 
 I knew, though I did not feel, what she 
 meant, and was reverently quiet. 
 
 " Past sin is often the cloudy porch to a purer 
 after-life than if we had not suffered at the out- 
 set. But it is time for you to leave the shadow: 
 I would that you could henceforth think of it 
 only as the pillar of cloud which stands between 
 you and your troubled past." 
 
 " But what will be my pillar of fire by night ? 
 My nights are longer than my days." 
 
 " Obedience. Faith in the coming light" 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 My heart still reared itself angrily against her 
 good words. 
 
 " How can I be obedient/' I exclaimed, " when 
 I neither love nor fear those that dispose of my 
 life ? Listen to me, Aunt Godwin. When T was 
 almost a child, your Providence, to which you 
 say I owe obedience, let me do a wrong which 
 has darkened my w^hole life, destroyed my home, 
 my chance of friends — for how can I make friends ? 
 Even you — the only one I can love, because you 
 know all — you turn from me, you blame me for 
 what is the consequence of my loneliness, the 
 sense of my unfitness to be ranked with most men. 
 What an education I have had, too ! Better for 
 me to have been in a convict-school : and now, 
 your only words are, obey and believe ; I do obey 
 already; I do believe only too well." 
 
 I had risen from her side and stood aloof, but 
 she beckoned me to sit again beside her. 
 
 '' This is what I fear," she said, very gravely ; 
 *'bear with me, Gaston, while I urge you, 
 perhaps for the last time, to accept circumstance 
 humbly, remembering your unworthiness; to meet
 
 GASTOX BLIGH. 83 
 
 it courageously, remembering Another's strength, 
 and the more you feel the darkness have faith 
 the more in the coming light. Dear boy, if you 
 would not be a grief all your life to yourself 
 and those connected with you, rise up and walk. 
 Do not rest in consciousness of suffering : act and 
 love." 
 
 "Easy to say," I replied, bitterly, "but after 
 all, are you happy yourself? Do you know 
 nothing of the pam of circumstance — disappoint- 
 ment in those who should love you?*' It was a 
 cruel question, for I knew life was difficult to her. 
 
 " I might say that the experience of a wife 
 and mother should not be told, and so answer 
 you. But I will tell you what pai*t of it concerns 
 myself. It is a great comfort, sometimes, to see 
 in the wilderness the footprints of those who 
 have gone before. At one time, Gaston, I was 
 hopeless — far more, I think, than you can be, 
 because I had apparently little to expect from 
 the futiu'e. It was soon after my father " 
 
 " I know," I murmui'ed, hastily, for the faint 
 flush left her cheek. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 "My life was dark. I pined restlessly for 
 the lost blessings of sympathy and affection, 
 besides a hundred lesser pleasures left behind 
 me in my South. I beat myself almost to death 
 against my daily duties." 
 
 " And what gave you at length this quietness ? " 
 I asked, as I watched her calm, irradiated features. 
 
 '' A word from my child, when she was hardly 
 more than a baby, pierced me through. I lay 
 in my room in a lethargy of exhausted feeling, 
 after a scene in which I had acted most wrongly : 
 she came wonderingly to my side, and touched 
 my hot cheek with her soft, grasping fingers. 
 
 '' ' Mamma not happy, mamma not good ! ' she 
 said very low. ' Come into the garden, and I 
 will show you flowers.' 
 
 " ' Not now, Sylvia ; it is wet and stormy.' 
 
 " ' The storm is over, mamma, and the flowers 
 are good now, and looking up at the sun.' 
 
 " I thank God for the impulse that led me out 
 that day with my child ; I have been fond of 
 flowers ever since." 
 
 "But though you have reached harbour," I
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 85 
 
 said, " would you wish your cliild to suffer 
 as you have done — as I do?" 
 
 " God forbid," she said hastily; "but that is 
 hardly likely. Sylvia knows my sin, and its 
 punishment. If I live, I will watch over her, 
 and if not, God's will be done: He will care 
 for her ; yet the thought troubles me sometimes — 
 if my wrong should be visited on her ! But 
 forgive me, Gaston, you see why I pray you 
 to act and love ; to look up after the storm, and 
 I can hope for you that the sting of all possible 
 misfortune will then be harmless." 
 
 " Give me something definite to do : what shall 
 my first act be?" 
 
 '* Now, even this moment, put out your will 
 and say from your heart, ' I submit.' " 
 
 A strength went into me, and I said the words 
 from my heart 
 
 " Now go, dear Gaston ; be alone for a while : 
 pray;" and I hastily left her, for I longed to be 
 alone.
 
 86 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Almost with fierce haste, moral sentiment lays its empire 
 on the man. A beatitude, but without any sign of joy ; 
 earnest, solitary, even sad — ' the flight of the alone to the 
 alone.' " — E^iekson. 
 
 I HURRIED breathlessly to my room, without 
 thinking or reasoning at all. I flung myself on 
 my knees ; I formed no coherent wish, but there 
 seemed to be relief in kneeling — physical relief 
 from physical oppression. I clenched my teeth in 
 a fervour of entreaty, and yet I know not what 
 I entreated. 
 
 I must have spent hours thus, for night fell 
 ere I had exhausted this first passionate outburst 
 of devotion, to the " unknown God." I was glad to 
 find that Clarice and Sylvia would not reappear 
 that evening, for I longed for more of the 
 excitement which had filled me. I excused
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 87 
 
 myself after dinner, ungraciously refusing Colonel 
 Godwin's proffered backgammon. How could I 
 waste my time, I thought, in such trivialities ? 
 
 My mind longed to instruct itself, to reach the 
 springs of that enthusiasm which had possessed 
 me; and I spent the night devouring all that 
 my church-service contamed of revelation. I 
 knew the words well before, but now their 
 meanings stood out sharp and bare. My candle 
 burned out, and I went to bed ; but I lay down 
 grasping the wonderful book, and when I awoke 
 next morning my hand still held it close. 
 
 Strange time, this fever of young life, when 
 the strength of manhood seemed added to the 
 vehemence of childhood, and lifted me on that 
 wave of religious feeling to another being entirely 
 different from my common existence. From 
 its crest I caught misty glimpses of a country 
 bathed in glory, not of this earth ; but alas I 
 the stern, black cliffs, and cruel nets of foam 
 and dark sky overhead when re-action came. 
 
 Colonel Godwin scarcely spoke to me at 
 breakfast. He said much that was intended
 
 88 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 for me to Sylvia, but at first I was too pre- 
 occupied to listen. The words, " My sister Bligh's 
 late husband," caught my ear, and I looked up. 
 My uncle held a newspaper so that I could 
 not see his face, but both his hand and voice 
 shook with excitement. 
 
 " Yes, Sylvia, my sister Bligh never recovered 
 the baneful influence of her marriage : she imbibed 
 those most false, erroneous, heathen, cold, un- 
 natural views of life that have destroyed every 
 good feeling of her heart, and caused her to 
 behave in this monstrous way to me." 
 
 " How, sir ! " I exclaimed, rising from my 
 chair. 
 
 My uncle sprang up, as if my words had 
 exploded a magazine of rage. 
 
 " Do not try to bully, me, boy," he began. 
 "Yes, I say, and I choose to say, that your 
 father " 
 
 I interrupted him passionately, but stopped 
 suddenly, startled by the lividness of his features. 
 I suppose he thought me cowed by his rage ; for 
 he took advantage of my silence to pour forth
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 89 
 
 a torrent of accusation, with a rapidity of 
 utterance and gesture I had not conceived 
 possible. 
 
 " I will not stay to hear such things said of 
 my mother," I muttered, moving to the door. 
 Sylvia was very pale, but sat motionless. 
 
 " You, indeed I you defend your mother I 
 You a model son ! You her protector ! that 's new ! 
 sneered Colonel Godwm. Ah, you think I do 
 not see through you." I was not master of myself. 
 To avoid my ungovernable impulse to knock him 
 down, I pushed by him to the door, went to my 
 room and double-locked my door, while I flung 
 my clothes into my portmanteau. 
 
 He came to my door, and jeered, and accused 
 me of a thousand meannesses, and vaguely spoke 
 of the fire at Ashhui'st, until sheer fatigue forced 
 him to go away. 
 
 "Did he know, too?" I thought. "Had the 
 moment come for my public detection ? " If it had, 
 I cared little while I ran over the possible conse- 
 quences. I grew older while my heart beat 
 with fierce contempt for this Colonel Godwin*
 
 90 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 I settled to walk to Watgate, and send for my 
 baggage from thence. I would wait in London to 
 hear from Mr. Rolt. I formed no further plan ; I 
 only thought of shaking from my feet the dust of 
 Westcote. I rang for a servant to whom I could 
 give my last directions. The door was opened 
 by Clarice ; she looked sorrowfully at my face, 
 which no doubt betrayed my thoughts. 
 
 "Come to my room," she said; but I turned 
 from her. 
 
 "Will you not say good-bye before you go. 
 I know you cannot stay." 
 
 She led me with her. 
 
 " My poor dear boy, I know all. I will not 
 speak of that, but of yourself — what will you do ?" 
 
 " Leave this," I said hoarsely. 
 
 "So your mother wishes ; we heard to-day 
 from her, and she was vexed with Mr. Rolt for 
 allowing you to come here. Forgive us, Gaston." 
 
 " Does she send me any orders ?" 
 
 '* No, no ; but Mr. Rolt returns on Wednesday : 
 until then " 
 
 " I will go to London."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 91 
 
 "You will forgive us?" 
 
 "Not him — not yet; he " 
 
 *' Hush ! I know, but you will try ; you will 
 not so soon forget your promise to submit, 
 remembering ? " 
 
 " One thing — Does he know ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Yet he alluded to it." 
 
 " He is observant ; he may have seen that you 
 were sensitive." 
 
 " I must go. I am very grateful to you — what- 
 ever — last night — ^but " 
 
 " What, Clarice ! you keep him here ? " said 
 Colonel Godwin ; " you encourage filial disobe- 
 dience, and keep young Hopeful in this contami- 
 natinor air ! So, he dares to come and malicrn me 
 to you, does he ? " he continued, suddenly raising 
 his voice, " and you receive him, and encourage 
 him to insult me ? The old story ! When will you 
 learn, with all your pretences, a wife's first duty ? 
 Do you suppose I do not read your motives ? " 
 
 She made me a sign to begone. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see ! Take care, Clarice ; how will
 
 92 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 you dare to meet your trial which is at hand? 
 take care!" 
 
 I could not contain myself, I spoke in my 
 turn, what, I hardly know ; but I left the room, 
 the house, haunted by the reproachful eyes of 
 Clarice.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Now also would I pray wherever I was, whether at home 
 or abroad, in house or field, with lifting up of heart — for as 
 yet I knew not where I was. I was now so taken with the 
 mercy of God that I remember I knew not how to contain till 
 I got home, but alas, within few days I began to question all 
 again." — Bitntan. Grace Abounding. 
 
 The day was wet, but I did not look at sky 
 or landscape. I busied myself in recalling the 
 incidents of the morning, and my anger blazed up 
 afresh. I wanted action of any sort, and sprang 
 forward in the face of wind and rain. 
 
 The up-train had just gone by when I arrived 
 at Watgate. I had two hours* waiting before 
 me. The station-master observed how wet my 
 clothes were, and asked me to his own room 
 where the fire was better : and as he was not at 
 the moment busy, he lingered in the room to 
 see me comfortable. But I was pre-occupied, so
 
 94 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 he left me presently, first unlocking a little book- 
 case and placing its contents at my disposal. 
 Delay is too irritating to encourage retrospection ; 
 I watched the clock till I was sure it had stopped, 
 and when I had measured the room over and over, 
 I was soon glad to turn to the open bookshelf. 
 
 There were not a dozen books, but they were 
 all new to me. " Law's Serious Call," " AUeyne's 
 Alarm," " Doddridge's Rise and Progress of 
 Religion," " Baxter's Saints' Rest," were among 
 the more prominent. The title of Baxter's book 
 attracted me, and I opened it at random. I lighted 
 on an eloquent and fervid description of the 
 consolations promised to the " called." I found 
 myself repeating aloud the ejaculations in the 
 text ; but I started with dismay, remembering that 
 I had no right to use them. I turned the pages, 
 and sought for passages more applicable to 
 myself. I know not what compelled me to read 
 on ; not the force and beauty of the language, 
 though they are great ; not conviction of its truth, 
 for I did not pause to be convinced. 
 
 The station-master came to announce that my
 
 GASTOX BLIGH. 95 
 
 luggage had arrived ; he looked at the book and 
 at me inquiringly. I put it away. 
 
 " Few care for that book, young gentleman ; 
 yet it is a good one to those who can understand 
 it." 
 
 " Yet it seems easy," I said. 
 
 " Easy and difficult in one. If I may presume 
 sir," he continued, glancing at the other undis- 
 turbed volumes, " it has been easy to you ? " 
 
 " Easy and difficult in one," I replied, turning a 
 little away. 
 
 " Never stop, sir, till its words seem the words 
 of your own heart ; but will you please take your 
 ticket, the train is due directly. There is a small 
 parcel with your portmanteau, will you have it in 
 your carriage?" 
 
 I said, " Yes," indifferently, and when I was 
 seated a porter put it in my hand. 
 
 It did not occur to me to open it till we were 
 in a cutting, and then I unrolled the loose 
 cover. I found the volume I had been reading, 
 " Baxter's Saints' Rest," and in the title-page that 
 day's date, and the hour of the train's departure
 
 96 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 from Watgate were marked in pencil : there was, 
 besides, another parcel directed in Aunt Godwin's 
 handwriting. I hurriedly broke the seal of a 
 note from her : 
 
 '"•' I know you are sorry, dear Gaston ; do not 
 be cast down because you have stumbled at the 
 threshold. I cannot write much to you, but I 
 send you an English Bible. I ask you to read 
 in it daily. You will do this in memory of me. 
 I shall not fear for you, if it becomes your com- 
 panion. I pray for you, dear boy, and say once 
 more that only in action and love to others and 
 to their Father and our Father, you and those 
 like you who feel keenly can be saved — Fare- 
 well." 
 
 The last paragraph was almost illegible — I 
 wearied myself to think why. Was she ill ? Had 
 the morning's scene injured her? If I could only 
 see her once more, and tell her how I would obey 
 her and atone for the past ! How much / there 
 was in all this — how little I understood the 
 meaning of her words ! 
 
 The train reached London Bridcre while I was
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 97 
 
 yet wondering at the cause of lier distorted 
 writing. But the responsibility of establishing 
 myself at the family hotel to which my mother 
 and the Smiths generally went, drove other 
 thoughts out of my head. I was slightly afraid 
 of the waiters ; and, as I would not risk 
 doing anything extraordinary, and was not very 
 sure what was ordinary, I remained tolerably 
 uncomfortable. I was wet and tired, and went to 
 my room as soon as I thought myself justified in 
 the awful sight of the chambermaid. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " But that meek man was destined to obey 
 A sovereign lady's unremitted sway ; 
 Wlio bore no partial, no divided rule, — 
 All were obedient pupils in her school." — Crabbe. 
 
 There is no solitude greater than that of a bed- 
 room of a large hotel in a large town. 
 
 In it I awoke from the sleep-walk of existence 
 to the realities of life : I asked myself what had 
 happened, what w^as happening; but I could give 
 no coherent account of myself. I re-read Clarice's 
 letter, and fell to planning many schemes of life — 
 Yes, I would act and love. 
 
 The morning's humiliation, my detention at 
 Watgate, my choice of Baxter's work, the station- 
 master's gift of that volume, seemed a super- 
 natural combination of circumstances. I knelt
 
 GASTON ELIGH. 99 
 
 and worshipped with the same awe as if I had 
 seen a vision and been taught by angels. The 
 words of Clarice's letter became important as a 
 revelation, her Bible more than all other Bibles. 
 
 I cannot describe my spiritual exaltation that 
 night; its vehement self-abasement and remorse, 
 yet its ardent vows of future perfection ; I did 
 not then know how close a prisoner the soul is 
 kept by life and its conditions. I unfurled its 
 wings and thought heaven was reached, for I felt 
 their divine mechanism; but they were waxen, 
 and the sun was hot; still, how proudly I spurned 
 earth ! I remember rising from my bed in utmost 
 agitation because an unworthy thought crossed 
 my mind. I knew not the need of discipline, 
 the mercy of trial, the glory of self-conquest. 
 
 All this happening to a lad of sixteen in a 
 London hotel ! 
 
 Yet I believe such times of enthusiasm are 
 not rare when boys stand on the threshold of 
 youth, only we conceal them with care even 
 from ourselves, in the reverse mood of our after- 
 life. I wrote to Mr. Rolt next day, to tell him 
 
 H 2
 
 100 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 how I was circumstanced, for I had not money 
 enough to be independent even for a week. I 
 went to put my letter in the post-box and met Mr. 
 Smith — Mrs. Smith's husband — in the passage, 
 to my great surprise. I did not recognise him 
 at once, for he had not filled a large space in 
 my memory; but I shook his proffered hand 
 and felt re-placed in old times. He was a dif- 
 ferent man, however, in his temporary bachelor- 
 hood from the insignificant purse-bearer at Dover ; 
 he was fond of music, and spent his holidays 
 of absence from his home in dreaming over 
 romantic novels, or drawing quaint strains of 
 music from his violin. A kind-hearted, unworldly 
 man, but equally unimaginative. Neither shrewd 
 nor yet stupid, he lived in an atmosphere of 
 refined but unexalted art. He believed in his 
 wife's mental superiority, though he suffered at 
 times not a little from it, and during the first 
 years of marriage he tried hard to be worthy 
 of his intellectual mate; but that he found 
 impossible, so returning to his violin and vague 
 dreams, he lived in a limbo which was neither
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 101 
 
 the heaven of inspiration nor the earth of action. 
 Externally he was short and rather stout, with 
 fair hair, which scantily covered a knohby fore- 
 head, a weak jaw, but well-cut nose and mouth. 
 
 He was most kind to me, and treated me as 
 if I were flesh and blood, in a common-place sort 
 of way, which came pleasantly after Colonel God- 
 win's courtesies and mj tutor's reserve. As he 
 happened to be in England, my mother had 
 written to beg liim to look after me at Westcote ; 
 and he explained to me that I was to return 
 with him in a day or two to Pan, where my 
 mother meant to reside during the winter months. 
 
 ^' I found you had left Westcote, but I got 
 your address in town from the servant. I sup- 
 pose Godwin was not at home. The house 
 seemed in confusion. I fancied, however, I 
 heard his voice somewhere in its depths. A 
 loud voice sometimes, eh, Gaston?" 
 
 "You didn't see Mrs. Godwin, sir?" 
 
 " She was ill I understood, but I couldn't 
 make out much. There appeared to be a row 
 in the house; half the servants seemed to be
 
 102 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 leaving — two came away by the same train as 
 I. Now, what do you think was the matter ? " 
 Mr. Smith was a bit of a gossip when his wife 
 was not by. We discussed Colonel Godwin's 
 eccentricities at some length. *^ Got a knock on 
 the head somehow in the Peninsula, just enough 
 to get him a command, now-a-days. Curious 
 manage, I hear, eh, Gaston?" 
 
 ^^ I think he is unjust to his wife," I said, 
 solemnly, for I felt the accusation was a heavy 
 one. 
 
 "Ah! eh? and how does that answer, now?" 
 asked Mr. Smith, staring hard at the fire. 
 
 " She is an angel ! " 
 
 " Hum, eh ? What sort of an angel ? A 
 female Michael always walking over one ? Wait 
 till you're a little older, my boy, and you'll 
 know more about angels. What is your cousin 
 like? another angel? or is she 'too fair to 
 w^orship?'" 
 
 "I don't know much about her," I said, 
 sulkily. 
 
 " Well, well, you shall hear some angelic
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 103 
 
 singing to-morrow. Do you care for that branch 
 of angel's business?" 
 
 '' Why, to-morrow is Sunday ! " 
 
 " The more reason. Mrs. Smith herself 
 
 By the by, you will find Dr. Hughes at Pau." 
 
 "Who is Dr. Hughes?" 
 
 " A very distinguished man," Mr. Smith replied, 
 with some importance. " Mrs. Smith has a high 
 opinion of his worth, though I believe she is 
 not altogether satisfied with his views ; but your 
 mother, pardon me, is quite — eh ? He is her 
 present pundit. Excuse me, my dear Gaston, 
 but she is a little given to hero-worship — you 
 understand." 
 
 I was a good deal put out, for I was too young 
 to perceive that of course IVIr. Smith would laugh 
 at my mother as one of his wife's satellites, though 
 himself the most egregious of them. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, meditatively, " Mrs. Smith 
 sees through these heroes, you perceive. No look- 
 ing up for her. She 's above them all." 
 
 " How is Ulrica?" I bethought me of inquiring. 
 
 " My dear Gaston, really splendid. Now, Mrs.
 
 104 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Smith does look up to her. She is still at a 
 school ill Paris ; — first-rate. Chopin looks after 
 her for pianoforte. I don't think much of those 
 Romanticists myself." 
 
 "Who, sir?" 
 
 " Romanticists, my boy, musical brigands, but 
 give me the full-dress school. We'll have a 
 bit of Handel to-morrow, sword, wig, and all ; 
 good-night, Gaston." 
 
 I found my attention wander when I took up 
 the " Saints' Rest " that night, but its eloquence 
 gradually warmed my heart, or what I thought 
 my heart. Before I lay down, I was in harmony 
 with its fervidest phrases.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Let the pealing organ blow, 
 
 To the full-voiced quire below 
 
 In service high and anthems clear, 
 
 As may with sweetness through mine ear, 
 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies 
 
 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes." — ^Iiltox. 
 
 In spite of tlie intangibleness of the ideas it excites 
 in us, there is, perhaps, no more hackneyed 
 theme than music. It is so completely a modern 
 revelation that we have no generally received 
 standard of its perfection — no universal digest 
 of its principles — and . so each man chooses his 
 evil or his good, and there is musical anarchy. 
 Why should not I too describe the flavour of this 
 sweetest fruit of the tree of knowledge as it 
 appeared to my boyish sense ? 
 
 Mr. Smith took me to the Temple church, and, 
 cunning in acoustics, he had secured for us seats
 
 106 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 where we could best enjoy the music of the 
 services. 
 
 I did not connect the business of the place 
 with the station-master's Baxter, nor yet with 
 Clarice's Bible. I gazed up at the roof, and my 
 eyes slid down the polished pillars of the building 
 with little thought of the indistinct words that 
 fluttered weak on wing from the reading-desk. 
 The responses and unimpassioned organ notes 
 were pleasant but no more. At last Mr. Smith 
 touched my shoulder, I looked round for a 
 second and saw him eager in expectation — his 
 lips slightly apart, his hand arrested in the act 
 of warning me, lest he should lose one ripple of 
 the coming sound. 
 
 How much strong feeling ennobles a man. I 
 have respected Mr. Smith ever since. 
 
 The whole congregation were still awaiting 
 the anthem ; the symphony began, and I closed 
 my eyes to listen better. There came to me 
 a picture of angel forms, gently stepping on 
 distant hills that melted their soft outlines in 
 a glow of more than smilight, gently stepping
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 107 
 
 in staid yet joyous measure from white heights, 
 down the shadowy valleys ; nearer then, and 
 nearer, over meadows rich with bewildering 
 perfume, dazzHng with colour; nearer, till the 
 air, winnowed by their ever-beating wings, smote 
 on my face. 
 
 My heart throbbed with expectation; I knew 
 not for what : doubtless the great master willed it 
 so, and desired to prepare us for that opening 
 of heaven from above — that shaft of light which 
 clove asunder the dimmer brightness of the angelic 
 halo. 
 
 "How beautiful are the feet of them that 
 preach the Gospel of Peace." 
 
 The notes came from height to depth, even as 
 the message did. In it is no ascension of mortal 
 aspiration. It rises not from man, but descends 
 in almost painful pureness on our aching sense. 
 
 The notes pierced and healed at once, as they 
 vibrated through me with " discontinuous wound." 
 In the first surprise of reception, I was almost 
 unconscious of separate existence, but I reco- 
 vered myself afterwards enough to know how
 
 108 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 I was led, captive and trembling, among the 
 divine utterances. 
 
 I know of no rapture of the mind so great 
 as music can cause. It dissolves our strength, 
 we are lifted from our feet, so to speak, and 
 carried to the confines 'of that world of which 
 all beauty here is but the marred reflection. 
 
 Meantime the anthem ceased. Mr. Smith 
 seemed elated by the perfection of Handel's 
 art. I felt depressed by the divine message 
 of which the art was but the incarnation. He 
 elbowed his way with unusual briskness through 
 the crowd of outgoers. I followed, listless and 
 exhausted, and through the afternoon I was 
 drowsy as one who breathes rarified air. 
 
 " Now isn't it odd," prosed Mr. Smith uneasily, 
 '^ that some people should despise music. Very 
 superior people too, eh? Your mother doesn't 
 care a bit for it : very superior person your 
 mother. " 
 
 " She used to like Mrs. Godwin's singing, sir." 
 
 " Ah well, I meant Mrs. Smith." I found this 
 was often his way.
 
 GASTON ELiaH. 109 
 
 " We shall be at Pau on Wednesday, Gaston.'' 
 
 "ShaU we, sir?" 
 
 "Pan and Dr. Hughes, Adolphe Adam, and 
 the ' drum ecclesiastic. ' I prefer Handel and 
 old England. However, have your kit ready 
 at seven in the morning, my boy. Glad to 
 go, eh?" 
 
 I hesitated, he turned quickly to me. 
 
 "Not glad to see your mother after all this 
 absence? — not glad to leave Mr. Rolt?" 
 
 "No sir," I answered shortly. 
 
 " That 's very wrong, eh ? Dr. Hughes and 
 Mrs. Smith must tune you up a bit. I couldn't, 
 eh? Sometimes out of tune myself. "Well, we 
 must start for Pau to-morrow, and m spite of what 
 they say, by Bach, which is my translation of 
 per Bacco, when we get to that well we must 
 drink, my boy." 
 
 He smiled quaintly on me, as he bade me 
 good-night. As I lay that night and thought 
 of life, I began to be conscious of its puzzle. 
 Before, its facts had seemed tolerably fixed, and 
 I loved and hated in good faith ; but now Duty
 
 110 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 and Inclination led off the dance in my mind 
 which is so bewildering to all. Right and Wrong 
 poussetting to each other under a hundred 
 masques, hands across, down the middle and 
 up again. Right holding Wrong's hand. Then 
 Right, like a well-mannered youth, dances man- 
 fully up to Wrong, and Wrong, a very graceful 
 dame, recule pour mieux sauter, till some change 
 comes in the measure, and then how nimbly 
 she takes Right by the hand, and her floating 
 draperies cloud round him, and her twinkling 
 feet beat time to the fashionable music from the 
 orchestra, until no one looks any more at her 
 partner. 
 
 I had not much heart for Clarice's Bible. I 
 fell asleep tired, and with the old chronic pain 
 of my child-crime at my heart. 
 
 I dreamt that Mr. Smith came and played 
 the anthem I had heard that day, but a grinning 
 face looked out from the top of his violin and 
 laughed in double measure accompaniment, to 
 which its S holes writhed in time. But groups 
 of crowding singers came gliding through the room.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. Ill 
 
 and among them was Clarice, witli set radiant face 
 and smooth hair, and hands laid together that 
 pointed upwards, as we see on old monuments. 
 Her song rose higher and purer, even as her 
 fairness was greater than that of the others. In 
 my dream she stayed a second before me, 
 growing on my sight till I was unconscious of 
 all else, still sincrincr the mornincr anthem, though 
 with motionless lips. She only stayed a second, 
 then fainter came the notes, as if from increasing 
 distance — fainter, till their sound was lost in the 
 beating of my own heart, and the white form 
 grew fainter, till its outline melted into tender 
 light with which the room was filled. I cried 
 out, and awoke to hear one or two laggard chimes 
 repeating Time's message. I went to the window, 
 and found a ghastly glimmer from a sinking 
 moon paling the dead white clouds. No dawn, 
 yet no stars: there was death on the sky.
 
 112 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 " I am borne darkly, fearfully afar 
 Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven 
 The soul of Adonais like a star, 
 Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 So, tightly shut up in a cab with Mr. Smith 
 and his violin-case, that sat up as collectedly 
 on the opposite side, as if the demon of my 
 dream had got his passport, and made up his 
 mind for the journey, scarcely less human than 
 Mr. Smith in his Nicol head-gear. 
 
 It was a rainy morning that drenched all 
 other impressions; morning in the undressed 
 street, the slatternly figures, the blackish light — 
 as if Phoebus were unshaven, and in a dressing- 
 gown of twilled fog — worst of all in the horribly 
 matutinal acquaintance of Mr. Smith's, who
 
 GASTON ELIGH. 113 
 
 triumplied over us with liis, " Nothing like the 
 morning hours : I 'm always up at six." Men 
 of no feeling — the only egotists universally 
 licensed— who must needs start their luggage-trains 
 betimes, lest Dulness the engine and Inefficiency 
 the tender fail to complete the appointed journey 
 in the day. I speak not of those who brush with 
 hasty steps the dew away, 
 
 " To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;" 
 
 but of the heroes who are greedy of the bhnd- 
 folding light that they may pursue their molework 
 better. 
 
 We established ourselves in a damp body- 
 warmed carriage full of spry Americans, who 
 discussed the fate of the Ericsson caloric engine. 
 Newspapers darted in through the closing 
 windows, and beat their wings throughout the 
 low-roofed compartments like imprisoned gulls. 
 A bell — and the long funnel of the terminus shut 
 up like a telescope, and attitudinising chimney- 
 pots glided by, and the dingy lining of the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 London sl^irts slipped off us with a rush as the 
 express is expressed. 
 
 My eyes were busy following the lines of 
 telegraph wire as they passed like the undulating 
 flight of swallows, when with a sudden swoop 
 they dived under the leads of a station, and 
 "Watgate, Wat — gate" was cried along the train. 
 
 I recognised Colonel Godwin's land-steward 
 on the platform; he was waiting for the next 
 up-train. He saw me, and started ; then, with 
 a very grave face, he turned a little away. 
 
 I jumped out and touched his arm. 
 
 "Tell Mrs. Godwin, please, that my mother 
 has sent for me, I 'm on my way to France, and 
 ask her " 
 
 " Mrs. Godwin is no more, sir ; she died last 
 night. The child w^as not expected to live when 
 I left." 
 
 The bell rang, and I stepped back mechanically 
 to my seat. I looked out at the vanishing plat- 
 form ; every face looked vacantly after the train but 
 Martin's: he leant against a pillow, and shaded 
 his face with his hand. All her dependants
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 115 
 
 loved Clarice. I tried to realize wliat had 
 happened. Mr. Smith was asleep. 
 
 I believe no man has ever conceived an idea 
 of Death; the keenest thoughts glance aside 
 from that livid ice-king's visor. We measure 
 the height of his throne against heaven, and 
 stars come up from the darkness behind to 
 comfort us. We know how its foundations 
 were laid when our earth was compacted, but 
 the Form himself, who can understand his fearful 
 beauty. 
 
 And he is most incomprehensible to youth. 
 I understood my loss, yet I felt little of that 
 relieving grief, which visits men who know 
 enough of life to measure loss, but great pain 
 gnawed at my heart. 
 
 Clarice was gone from me, and I was thrown 
 in on myself, a sickly self, poisoned by the 
 slow venom of unchildlike egotism. I will not 
 lay bare the thoughts that assailed me, while 
 I grew used to my new solitariness. The first 
 certainty of utter loneliness is a terrible moment : 
 in the reaction from it, sorrow and joy seem alike 
 
 I 2
 
 116 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 insignificant, and the weight of self makes us 
 ready to sacrifice self, whether in an atheist 
 scaling of heaven, by faquir self-immolation, or 
 the more difficult cynicism which shuts out all 
 future love in despair. 
 
 My loneliness worked thus with me. I gave 
 in henceforth to all that happened, calming 
 emotion by the thought "What use?" I felt a 
 sort of contempt for anthems and " Saints' Rests," 
 yet fierce self-assertion burned inwardly. Let 
 me return to the American Ericssonians. One 
 of them, when that subject was exhausted, busied 
 himself in ascertaimng Mr. Smith's mission in 
 life. He twitched the violin -case from its 
 position, and its owner awoke in the state of 
 dignified irritability the occasion prompted. 
 
 I was earnestly thinking, and sat far back 
 looking at the leaves whirling from the trees, 
 and wishing to catch and crush them m my 
 empty hands. ' 
 
 " Why, my boy, how pale you are ; what 's the 
 matter?" 
 
 I hid away my hands, for I knew they shook ;
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 117 
 
 the blow had been great, and I could not speak 
 of it just then, or bear cross-questioning. 
 
 " Like to change places with me, eh ? " 
 
 I made some excuse. When we were in the 
 bustle of the Paris railway terminus, I told him 
 what had happened. 
 
 " Eh, what ! Poor thing ! when did you hear ? " 
 
 " Passincr Watorate station, from the Westcote 
 steward." 
 
 " Odd boy you are — thought I shouldn't care 
 to know, eh ? " 
 
 « I didn't think of that, sir." 
 
 " No, no, Gaston ; I 'm not so prejudiced as 
 that. It was a mesalliance, I don't like foreigners, 
 but still, I always thought your mother hard on 
 her." 
 
 " My mother ! " 
 
 " Well, well ; Cicely I mean. Poor Godwin ! 
 but they weren't happy together. I hear Godwin 
 is a disappointed man : what 's the daughter like ? " 
 
 I was angry enough to say with indifference — 
 
 "I believe she was considered like Mrs. 
 Godwin."
 
 118 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " So I understood : very foreign. Poor God- 
 win! So she is dead : a fine contralto organ, eh ? 
 Style a little too Italian, as I remember, to suit 
 me. Good-night, my boy. I must pay Ulrica a 
 visit early to-morrow: you can amuse yourself 
 very well, I dare say; and the day after we 
 will report ourselves to the authorities." 
 
 " What authorities, sir ? " 
 
 " The only ones a Briton acknowledges, eh ? 
 the domestic deities. Your mother will expect 
 us." 
 
 "And Mrs. Smith?" 
 
 " Doubtless, and Mrs. Smith." 
 
 He peered at my face and shrugged his 
 shoulders, as he hummed an end of a tune about 
 « Old King Cole."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "Prudent and temperate, just and patient she. 
 By no vain thoughts or erring fancy swayed, 
 Her words are weighty or at least are weighed. 
 
 she never grieves 
 
 For love that wounds or friendship that deceives : 
 
 Her patient soul endures what Heav'n ordains. 
 
 But neither feels nor fears ideal pains — 
 
 * Is aughi then wanted in this woman wise ?' 
 
 Alas ! I think she wants infirmities. 
 
 She wants the ties that knit us to our kind.'' — Crabbe. 
 
 We reached Pau by the diligence, in time to 
 dress for dinner. I found my mother and the 
 Smiths had each apartments in the same house, 
 and for all social purposes the same establishment. 
 
 I know I did not greet my mother lovingly, 
 our separation had deepened the gulf between us, 
 not widened it, for good-breeding bridged over the 
 apparent chasm. 
 
 I was very indifferent to my mother's opinion
 
 120 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 of me, but more than ever I shrank from her 
 knowledge of my past. It came between us 
 painfully as she rose from her chair and took my 
 hand and kissed me doubtfully. After a few 
 commonplaces, I went to dress, I left the task 
 of announcing Mrs. Godwin's death to Mr. Smith, 
 while I weariedly prepared for this new phase of 
 life. 
 
 I think there must be many listless egotists 
 as I was at my age. The ungrown man knows 
 too much of life to be enthusiastic, too little to 
 be hopeful. We take exaggerated views of our 
 dispositions. It is the Byronic era: we are 
 engaged in struggling spasmodically out of our 
 childish chrysalis. And I could not free myself 
 from bygone years as others did. Slight words 
 from my mother kept alive its memories. She 
 seemed utterly cold-hearted, as she, knowing all 
 she did, would say casually to Mrs. Smith in my 
 hearing : — " This is not the life, dear Cicely, 
 my husband wished for me, but that fire has 
 destroyed my home in every sense," or else, 
 "I have learned, dear Cicely, not to hope; for
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 121 
 
 some time I have relinquislied expectation. I 
 have been taught by a bitter lessson that I must 
 prepare for disappointment." My heart curdled 
 with impotent desire to make an end of all this, 
 to confront her once for all, and let every one 
 know the truth, if only to escape these side 
 strokes. 
 
 My mother concealed her feelings from me, 
 and I know not how she received the news of 
 her sister-in-law's death. She asked few questions 
 of how I had spent my three years' absence from 
 her. She had during them watched sedulously 
 over me I now know, but then, her silence to 
 me seemed indifference. She attempted " unde- 
 viating justice" when violating the law which 
 binds mother to son closest of all relationships. 
 She thought she ^^ acted for my good" when 
 thus teachincp me to live without affection. 
 
 In truth, her self- distrust " o'erleaped its 
 selle." Softness seemed to her culpable weakness ; 
 hardness, heroism. It followed that unblushing 
 self-assertion appeared to her truthfulness; con- 
 demnation of others, a clear view of duty.
 
 122 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Prejudice was havmg a "single heart." Obsti- 
 nacy was, above all, admirable firmness. On 
 the other hand, love was generally injudicious 
 partiality. Courtesy she feared to be insincerity ; 
 and to see two sides to any question was to want 
 fixed principle. 
 
 I was too young to see the mistaken good in 
 all this; I rebelled against her rules, and thus I 
 felt myself without the pale of all rule. 
 
 Some weeks passed by of growing animosity 
 to all that w^as said and done in our circle, of 
 rapid drifting from that point of light — my 
 intercourse with Clarice. How far away it 
 seemed ! 
 
 I had set apart a table in my room for her 
 last gift, and it lay there untouched ; I had not 
 opened it since her death. My relations with 
 her seemed then snapped assunder, but I kept 
 her Bible and the " Saints' Rest" as relics, and 
 when I looked at them I felt an awe which I 
 suppose many would call superstition. 
 
 My mother saw none but her most intimate 
 acquaintances during those first weeks of mourn-
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 123 
 
 Incp. Amoncr them, indeed the head and front of 
 her friends, was the Dr. Hughes for whom i\Ir. 
 Smith had prepared me. He was a good sort 
 of be-worshipped man, rather bored than pleased 
 bv the Pundithood forced on him by two or 
 three of the leading women of his set. Mrs. 
 Smith "mistrusted his views," but they were 
 incoherently gathered from very heterogeneous 
 sources to meet the exigencies of his position. 
 If Lady Stoughty wrote him little scented notes 
 to ask his opinion of Newman's "development" 
 theory, he must needs make out some argument 
 wherewith to confute that arch -pervert. If Miss 
 Anty de Luge, a Franco-Hibernian resident, 
 expected him to clear the discrepancies between 
 Professor Azo Ich's last pamphlet and the book 
 of Genesis, what could this defender of orthodoxy 
 do but clear them up. 
 
 My mother was his favourite disciple. In her 
 morning-room he established a chair of moral 
 philosophy, and moral philosophy is one of the 
 easiest of brays in which to attain a creditable 
 proficiency.
 
 124 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 As an introduction to his more exalted excel- 
 lences my mother gave me a little volume, 
 splendid in blue and gold, entitled "Hints: a 
 series of Essays, by the Reverend Ithuriel 
 Hughes, D.D.," and turning over the leaves I 
 found three decisively marked with marginal 
 strokes, on " Truth," " Consistency," and " The 
 Inner Life," which I in my antagonism translated 
 " Policy," ^' Keeping up Appearances," and " The 
 Benefits of Self-laudation." I conceived a most 
 unjust prejudice against the author, and ascribed 
 "humbug" to much that surrounded me — a 
 species of unbelief which ruins the heart. 
 
 But Dr. Hughes was a good man, and did 
 not intend to be the charlatan he was forced to 
 appear. He was kind to me, and I doubt not 
 the means of making this period of my life less 
 injurious than it might have been to me ; yet 
 I disliked him heartily when he turned aside 
 some attack from Mrs. Smith, or put a pleasant 
 construction on some covert reproach from my 
 mother. 
 
 " Well, Gaston, my boy, so Hughes has got
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 125 
 
 his way, and you 're booked for Oxford, after all. 
 Got over our fear of Jesuits, eh ?" 
 
 I was taken aback. 
 
 *' Hum, so you didn't know ; I 've m ade a 
 mistake, I 'm afi'aid ; but if I were you, I 'd like 
 the news." 
 
 Au fond, the prospect gratified me, but I broke 
 out in a passion. 
 
 " I don't like to be ordered about like a broken- 
 in dog by a " 
 
 " Zitto zitto, pian piano — don't get yourself 
 into one scrape and me into another." 
 
 So I was to be sent to Oxford by this Dr. 
 Hughes ; this Yicar of Wrexliill. What could 
 / say ? I could not conjure up that spectre of the 
 past to look out at me from my mother's eyes. 
 When was this to end ? And I knew how she 
 would confront me with it. How she would use 
 the 'peine forte et dure of disgrace to compel me 
 to do what she judged best. 
 
 I worked myself into a violent antipathy to 
 Oxford in general, and Dr. Hughes in particular. 
 Mr. Smith left me, for he could not keep pace
 
 126 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 with my indignant strides ; and, after an hour's 
 boiling over, I found myself on a by-road that 
 led to a hamlet a league or more from Pau. 
 
 A stout pedlar was a few steps in advance of 
 me, whom I quickly caught up; some trifling 
 remark superinduced conversation, carried on, it 
 is true, under difficulties, considering his patois 
 and my Anglicisms, but it had the charm of 
 novelty, and my rencontre became an adventure. 
 
 Seeing that I was English, the man was not 
 slow to reveal himself as a trader in Bibles, 
 and when he spoke of his vocation, his sedate 
 features were lighted by an enthusiasm that 
 could not fail to attract me. He told me 
 stories of his errant life in broad touches that 
 left out sordid details. I was seized with the 
 desire to be also a free missionary such as he — 
 and why not? I would return to the town — sell 
 my watch, and purchase a stock-in-trade. The 
 weather was fine. I could always find a warm 
 fireside for my winter evenings. After a 
 moment's deliberation I proposed my plan and 
 was not a little vexed when my new friend
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 127 
 
 broke into laughter. I put on a stem grand 
 air, and inquired wherefore his merriment. 
 
 "Have you, then, no friends?" he asked. 
 
 "Ko, only a mother — but what does that 
 signify?" 
 
 " Young sir, she is to you the representa- 
 tive of God; gain her blessing and be a 
 missionary, well." 
 
 " I think she has none to give," I muttered. 
 
 " We know not when manna may fall in the 
 wilderness." 
 
 "Ah," I said bitterly, "mine is eaten of 
 worms." 
 
 "Impossible, sir, if it was laid upon the 
 altar." 
 
 "What altar?" 
 
 "The altar of sacrifice m'sieu." 
 
 " And if all one loves on earth leaves it?" 
 
 "Love on; there is no death to true love. Hold, 
 m'sieu! my mother said with her last breath, 
 ' Andre, continue !' — Do I not love her. Do I 
 not continue ? " 
 
 " But you live in the past, not in the present"
 
 128 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 «Plait-il, m'sieu?" 
 
 " You do not love others now that she is dead ? " 
 
 " Pardon, m'sieu ? there is egoism and there 
 is love. Egoism festers: love grows with the 
 use. They cannot exist together. Return to 
 madame your mother, and ask her blessing 
 before you claim a right to sell Bibles — and 
 after — Au revoir." 
 
 He touched his hat, and turned into a sort of 
 half-chateau, half-farmhouse. I had no right to 
 follow him, so walked slowly home, very much 
 dissatisfied with life, I thought ; with myself in 
 truth.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " Aristarque se transporte dans la place avec un Heraut et 
 un trompette ; celui-ci commence, toute la multitude accourt 
 et se rassemble. ' Ecoutez, peuple,' dit le Heraut, • soyez 
 attentifs, silence, Aristarque que vous voyez present doit faire 
 demain une bonne action.' '" — La Brute re. 
 
 The pedlar was right — egoism festers ; yet it is an 
 evil which seems to belong to the most finely 
 attempered souls. I separate it from vanity and 
 self-exaltation : it is the involuntary recoil of 
 the aspiring man on his own nature when he 
 finds all without him impenetrable. It is the 
 assertion of his own soul when he cannot prove 
 that which underlies external appearances; saddest 
 of all disappointments and most paralyzing of good, 
 until the self-consuming heart issues forth in love, 
 and, applying that unerring alchemy, finds life in 
 all that seemed but a chaos of forms. 
 
 I do not write to justify my egoism. I was 
 
 VOL. T. K
 
 130 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 vain and shallow ; but I would warn those wlio, 
 without drawing out the good in them, discourage 
 true self-love in the young, that the springs 
 of good are within us, and if they are sealed 
 with a stone and not allowed first to rise and fall 
 on themselves, and afterwards, when they have 
 gathered volume, to flow in the appointed channels, 
 there will ensue stagnation and impurity, or fierce 
 rebellion and destruction. We estimate highly 
 hydraulic forces and ignore the laws of soul- 
 pressure ! 
 
 I wished to look into Clarice's Bible when I 
 returned, but my broken promise to her hindered 
 me. I dressed hurriedly and went down-stairs to 
 dinner. 
 
 I found our family circle engaged in discussing 
 the coming of a cousin who had arrived that day — ■ 
 a nephew of my mother's; the only son of her 
 only sister. He had been early left an orphan, 
 and the accumulations of his minority had added 
 many tens of thousands to the graces of Alberic 
 Anne Amadeus Harrison, Lord de Boville. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was prepared to snub him on
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 131 
 
 principle, my motlier to distrust him as her 
 nephew; yet, as it fell out, Mrs. Smith petted 
 him in practice, and my mother, following the 
 lead of Dr. Hughes, at once had the highest 
 opinion of him. He was a young man calculated 
 to gain the highest opinions with the least possible 
 after- verification of them. 
 
 "Why is he here?" asked Mrs. Smith. 
 
 "Been travelling in Spain — going to hunt, I 
 hear," ventured Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Oh, you pick up such unfounded gossip. 
 Hasn't he a tutor ? — it is absurd to suppose he 's 
 come here for hunting. Isn't some one looking 
 after him?" 
 
 My mother said, apologetically, '' I really don't 
 know. Cicely, I am so cut off from my old ties ; 
 I believe, he has been admirably brought up 
 by his uncle, the Dean of Sittinge Stille." 
 
 "What are uncles? But we must make his 
 acquaintance ; you will not mind seemg so near 
 a relation. Mr. Smith, you must tell him his 
 aunt is here. Does he know, Gertrude, do you 
 
 suppose ? " 
 
 K 2
 
 132 GASTON BLIGE. 
 
 "Oh no, I have not seen De Buville since 
 he was a baby." 
 
 " Shall we ask him to meet two or three 
 people to-morrow evening, the Stoughtys and 
 Dr. Hughes. I suppose his tutor, whoever he is, 
 must be included, and we had better have Lord 
 and Lady Owyte Lawe " 
 
 " But, dear Cicely," pleaded Mr. Smith, " to- 
 morrow is the concert night." 
 
 " Oh Tiny Lawe will sing, if we want music. 
 No one will care for Gliick, and all that you are 
 to have." 
 
 My mother looked perplexed, but at last she 
 ventured : 
 
 '^ The world is harsh, I know. Cicely, but the 
 Owyte Lawes " 
 
 "Are excellent, delightful people, not at all 
 understood; in fact, very superior to most of 
 their class. Lord Owyte Lawe is so well- 
 informed, and Tiny is deliciously natural." 
 
 " But still, is it wise for the future — Ulrica — 
 what will De Boville ?" murmured my mother. 
 
 " Are you such a slave to worldly wisdom ?
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 133 
 
 Besides, I assure you it 's all right : Dr, Huglies 
 has set you against them — or you are afraid 
 your wild cub of a Gaston will go on the turf. 
 Trust me," she continued, turning to me in her 
 bantering way, " Gaston will never be anything 
 so charming as Lord Owyte Lawe. Apropos, 
 you are to go to Oxford, I hear. How old is 
 your nephew, Gertrude?" 
 
 "Just nineteen, I believe." 
 
 "And this boy?" 
 
 " Nearly seventeen." 
 
 " So he is ! actually 'tis four years since the fire 
 at Ashhurst; but it is too soon for Oxford." 
 
 "Not to prepare," said Dr. Hughes, who had 
 joined our party. 
 
 This was a signal for Mr. Smith's departure 
 to a bachelor friend's apartments, where met a 
 quartette society. I buried myself in a livraison 
 of Monte Christo, but every now and then a 
 phrase caught my ear, which put together, made 
 incongruous mosaic. 
 
 " A very distinguished looking youth, my 
 dear madam."
 
 134 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " An Irish tutor, liow foolishly 
 
 " The Dean unfortunately leans to 
 " Twenty thousand a year, and — 
 
 "It is natural that he should Kke. " 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! he will of course 
 
 enter " 
 
 " His coal-mines are a fluctuating " 
 
 " Responsibility saddled on him by " 
 
 " Great Grimsby. The Tijnes says " 
 
 " He must not delay to marry." 
 
 There was much more of this bald chat. Then 
 Dr. Hughes startled me from my pre-occupation, 
 by laying his hand affectionately on my shoulder : 
 
 " Clever fellow, Andre, whom you were talking 
 to; one of our most useful allies in the cause. 
 Quite a pet of mine ; I saw you talking to him, 
 and was very pleased." 
 
 Farewell pedlarism. Hey for Lord Owyte 
 Law^e and De Boville ! I began to mistrust my 
 enthusiasms.
 
 GASTON ELIGH. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Monsieur paye le Rotisseiir et le Cusinier et c'est toujours 
 chez Madame qu'on a soupe/' — La Beutere. 
 
 " To her Calista proved her conduct nice." — Pope. 
 
 I BEGAN to mistrust my enthusiasms, and to 
 observe those of others, or at least those tattered 
 effigies of youtliful extravagances which lurk 
 even among the worldliest. 
 
 We must embody a myth ere we altogether 
 believe in it ; my readers will necessarily ascribe 
 to me, Gaston Bligh, colour, form, weight — if 
 they think of me at all. I may as well set doubt 
 at rest, if a succession of negatives can do this. 
 
 I was neither fair nor dark, neither handsome 
 nor yet ugly, neither short nor tall. My mother 
 feared I had an " uncandid expression," Mrs. 
 Smith thought it common-place. I had a habit
 
 136 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 of looking down, which, I believe, means all 
 that is worst of disposition to those who stare ; 
 and doubtless I was common-place by the side 
 of Professor Azo Ich the frightful, or De Boville 
 the " too -handsome." 
 
 I wished my face to be good-looking, and 
 it was not ; so I gave up further care about it, 
 and seldom glanced above the region of expected 
 beard. I sacrificed three white ties to the 
 shadow De Boville cast before him, but this 
 "unnecessary tumult" did not occur again. 
 
 Let me describe his entrance dramatically; 
 though worthy of a fashion-epic, still, let me 
 live in the ever-present drama of his arrival. 
 
 Most of Mrs. Smith's intimates had arrived. 
 Sir Saph Stoughty foremost among them. He 
 was a Leicestershire baronet, magnificent in 
 height, breadth, and depth — all the qualities of 
 quantity. His wife, an anxious little woman 
 in a blonde wdg, had a restless look, caused, I 
 imagine, by her endeavours to see under the 
 arms of her four sons, who kept about her in 
 serried phalanx. I have heard, too, that she
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 137 
 
 "trembled" for the Bible, and at the Jesuits, 
 and this naturally wore her out a good deal, 
 as did also the reading of every new calculation 
 of the end of the world as it appeared. Sir 
 Saph — ominous and Philistine name — had lately 
 " pshawed " over the " Coming Struggle," and 
 the youngest Stoughty, being short of gun wads, 
 had torn off its cover for a hasty loading. Good 
 Lady Stoughty turned pale while she settled 
 the inevitable prospect for husband and son, for 
 she was infinitely fond of both. 
 
 She avoids handsome but unlovely Miss 
 Auty de Luge, who is eying Dr Hughes in 
 a basilisking way that makes him uncomfortable, 
 even while he talks to my mother. Miss de 
 Luge demolishes Lady Stoughty in a word ; her 
 large brown eyes shrivel her up — the expression 
 even of her hand is decisive. Its out-stretched 
 little finger bristles as she drinks her tea. Miss 
 de Luge is, as all know, a futurist, and for 
 the best reason — The infusorial era certainly 
 covered a period of two millions of our present 
 years.
 
 138 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Hilary Stouglity, who is waiting for his 
 commission, and is the most quixotic of his 
 Sanchoite family, has a weakness for Miss de 
 Luge. He thinks her far better than those girls, 
 you know, who haven't a word to say for them- 
 selves, you know. 
 
 Miss de Luge is flattered by this discrimination 
 of his, and has moments of unworldly romance 
 when she tries to feel like people in novels, and 
 wonders she does not — but on the whole, she 
 is bored by Hilary and his talk, and plunges 
 eagerly into the nearest vortex of learned discus- 
 sion, leaving him involved in the " trap " rock, or 
 the calculating machine, or, worse than all, the 
 melee of object-subject-ivity in which she has 
 immersed him. Miss Auty de Luge always made 
 me shiver, yet she was more commendable than 
 Lady Owyte Lawe, whom I thought charming, 
 with her combined wilfulness, coquetterie, impru- 
 dence, effective dress, piquante slippers, and an 
 excellent heart. 
 
 But see, De Boville comes ! 
 
 Extremely handsome, with that haughtiness
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 139 
 
 which is so delightful to witness, and which 
 carries you back to the tune when Apollo flayed 
 Marsyas. Only Apollo was not a Harrison. 
 
 Extremely calm, indeed quite above emotion. 
 Extremely well-dressed. He had a beautiful 
 head, but a scanty brain ; soft eyes, but a 
 cold heart; sonorous voice, but shallow words; 
 excellent " views," but no ideas ; glittering opin- 
 ions, but no reasons. He acted his part to 
 perfection, as a representative of his order, but 
 forgot that he was a man. De Boville was 
 one of the promises of his society, that was, 
 however, never kept to the world — even to our 
 world, so ready to believe in the merit of their 
 Barnacles. I beheve every one in the room, 
 except Miss de Luge, thought him perfect. I 
 did, I remember ; but she expected a further 
 development of the race towards web-feet. 
 
 He stood on the rug, and enraptured !Mi's. 
 Smith by his good sense, which consisted mainly 
 in listening to hers. After absently surveying 
 the rest of our world, and rejecting a conversation 
 on hunting, proffered to him by Sir Saph, he
 
 140 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 finally devoted himself to my mother: he spoke 
 no more to any one else. Lady Owyte Lawe sang 
 all sorts of chansons^ from Dejazet's first to David's 
 last, and through the accompaniments came ever 
 murmurs of " high tone" " political truth," I know 
 not what Pegasi of principle ; seldom, however, 
 sufficiently in harness to help the world up what 
 Miss de Luge calls " the infinite ascensions." 
 
 I had not been in any sort of mixed society 
 before, and a Smith soiree, made up of doubly 
 provincial folk, was not its most attractive form. 
 No one is more sensitive than I am to the 
 influences of brilliant rooms and brilliant dress, 
 with the rarification of spirit they induce, but 
 half-society is equally depressing. Here were 
 enough voices for discord, too few for murmur ; 
 conversational duets without a solitude a deux. 
 Sir Saph and his sons' backs made gloom, scarcely 
 relieved by the gleam of Lady Owyte Lawe's 
 shoulders. Every one was involved in social 
 necessities, paying the party-tax on an unjust 
 valuation. I had the more time to theorize that 
 no one took much notice of me. Mrs. Smith,
 
 GASTON BLIQH. 141 
 
 Miss de Luge, Lord Owyte Lawe, and Dr. Hughes 
 made up a rubber ; but Lady Owyte Lawe, when 
 she was tired of singing, beckoned to me to sit 
 on a sofa by her. 
 
 I did not understand her very well — she was 
 used to men-boys, and I believe I have all 
 my life been a boy-man. She talked to me 
 out of Punch, and Punch was as unintelligible 
 to me as it would have been to Popanilla, when 
 he first landed on Yraibleusia. 
 
 I would not speak out of myself in return, 
 that can only be done when we have dried and 
 labelled our feelings, so I was on the whole, I fear, 
 rather a " Master Tom." 
 
 "How well Lord de Boville talks," at last 
 she recommenced, with a yawn. " Did you know 
 him before ? " 
 
 " No, I never saw him ; he is an Eton man, 
 I believe.'* 
 
 " What is your school ? " 
 
 " I shall go to a private tutor's I 'm told — 
 I don't know." 
 
 " And which University ? or the army ? "
 
 142 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I don't know," I repeated sulkily. 
 
 " Don't you care ? By tlie by, you have a 
 beautiful house, an old manor house ; I remember 
 it. I used to know your father." 
 
 " It is burnt down," I said. 
 
 "What a pity! how?" 
 
 " I was very young." 
 
 " You don't remember your father ?" 
 
 "No, I know nothing of him, but I have 
 heard a great deal." 
 
 " He was one of the very good, the very 
 noble. Ah, one never knows how small one 
 is, till one sees the Alps. Yet the ice and 
 stillness is very dead ; one hardly wishes to ascend 
 beyond the valley — and love in a cottage," she 
 added with a little laugh, icy enough itself. 
 " Your mother is Alpine I know — so good. You 
 look wicked, how is that? you looked wicked 
 when I asked for Ashhurst — are you discon- 
 tented?" 
 
 I pulled at one of the buttons of my coat. 
 
 " And a little revengeful — and very pas- 
 sionate."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 143 
 
 I said something in contradiction, but she went 
 on : 
 
 " An abyss, in short, not an Alp, and people 
 will come and roll all sorts of stones and rubbish 
 into you, and jou will get a succession of knocks 
 on the head from all sorts of Alpine excellencies, 
 but the abyss will be all the deeper ; they '11 
 perhaps knock a hole through your world, and 
 you may see daylight at the Antipodes." 
 
 " And if not?" I asked, still lookino- down. 
 
 She put her soft round hand on my shoulder 
 and said, still smilino; : 
 
 " Dodge the stones, and try to grow accustomed 
 to the rubbish, and never pine for the sky. 
 "We're in for it; one only gets one's nails torn 
 off, if one tries to climb up by the ferns and 
 flowers that grow here and there." 
 
 " But there are flowers ? " 
 
 " Rosemary and rue — artificial ones are your 
 only wear; one can make up very creditable 
 euphorbias, and cacti, and cockscombs, and all 
 manner of red splendours." 
 
 "Why red?"
 
 144 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " Isn't that the colour of one's heart's blood?" 
 She got up as she said thus, for her husband had 
 won his second rubber and looked towards her : 
 she shook out her dress very gracefullj, and 
 little whirlwinds of perfume played about her, and 
 gentle rustlings from her soft dress that made 
 symphony with the shriller tinklings of bracelets 
 and breloques. 
 
 I was too boyish to think much of herself, 
 and her words did not answer any of my 
 thoughts. We must have advanced beyond the 
 taking-for-granted age of life before we look 
 farther than the words of the best-known friend. 
 Lady Owyte Lawe, in the momentary betrayal 
 of her unsatisfied womanhood, would have been 
 profoundly interesting to any one but me, who 
 knew of no heart but Clarice's. 
 
 Meantime Lord de Boville bid my mother and 
 his hostess good night, and disappeared. I did not 
 like his smile as he passed Lady Owyte Lawe 
 with the barest recognition. This, and the family 
 appreciation of his qualities, damped mine.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. l4o 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " The exi)ectancy and rose of the fair state, 
 The glass of fashion and the mould of form, 
 The observed of all observers." — Shakespeare. 
 
 " All is not gold that glitters." — Proverb. 
 
 De Botille stayed a fortniglit : mv mother liked 
 me to be with him ; and, lacking better, he made a 
 sort of companion of me. He came no more 
 to Mrs. Smith's evening parties, nor was he 
 entrapped into once shaking hands with either 
 of the Owjte Lawes. He disliked equally 
 the unripe ripeness of Sir Saph Stoughty's 
 country wisdom, and he was unapproachable by 
 the sons of that race. 
 
 Though I never liked him, De Boville attracted 
 me. I also took his promise for certainty of 
 distinction, I did not expect him to be great, but 
 I thought he would at least be distinguished. 
 
 VOL. T. L
 
 146 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 la all lie did he was imposing: lie managed 
 his hired hack with dignity; he even idealised 
 eating, and was splendid when smoking ; he 
 appeared to have thought earnestly — in truth, he 
 had but listened attentively. Streams of political 
 and economic axioms, literary criticism, even 
 systems of theology flowed gracefully from this 
 aristocratic Chrysostom, but there was no life — 
 no pith in them, and for all the divine right 
 of his " order," it could not change the water into 
 wine. But he quickly took his place in that 
 hierarchy of impeccable Pundits to whom my 
 mother bowed ; for she was one of those who 
 measure their acquaintance in a moral Pro- 
 crustean bed. Certain angles must be filled ; 
 and that done, they rejoice in the perfection they 
 have discovered. Often the most deformed, 
 always the scantiest statures fit best in this gauge ; 
 at the worst they can be given high-heeled shoes,, 
 and steeple-hats, whereas your large natives are 
 shockingly unruly, and often break through the 
 regulation bounds, in search of mere elbow- 
 room.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 147 
 
 De Boville had for a travelling tutor a reserved 
 man of sharp edges: an Irishman, but not a 
 Paddy. As far as his pupil's conduct went, he 
 held a sinecure, for caste kept De Boville out 
 of the mud. Mr. Armstrong was sarcastic, and 
 original enough to gain his consideration while 
 he held office: that over, what was the Arm- 
 strong to the De Boville ? 
 
 Mr. Armstrong's talk was trenchant, he scalped 
 systems and passed people under harrows of iron. 
 I seldom spoke to him when he was by, but 
 De Boville laughed sublimely when one day I 
 suggested his tutor's possible disapproval. 
 
 " It 's his Reverence's duty to pull me up. He 
 does it, and he can do no more." 
 
 '' But doesn't he care if you go agamst him ? " 
 
 "Care! No: why should he? he'll have 
 done, and I shall have done — what we're paid 
 for." 
 
 "Paid for! You?" 
 
 " I get an allowance for being De Boville, 
 and he for being Jolm Knox Armstrong, clerk, 
 late scholar, St. Boniface College, Oxford, wait- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 ing for a bog benefice some one is going to give 
 him in Ireland. He is my travelling tutor, and 
 I " 
 
 " Are certainly not bis pupil." 
 
 '' Well, bis patron saint, if you like, or going 
 to be, if I get office." 
 
 De Boville bad splendid intentions of being a 
 great man wbenever the great "country party" of 
 this great country was strong enough to make 
 him one ; but it is now some years since our 
 bo}dsh colloquies, and this has not yet happened. 
 I do not think Mr. Armstrong expected this 
 consummation, but he would not damp his 
 Alexander's hopes of empire. 
 
 At the end of a fortnight, and the beginning of 
 a frost, De Boville left us to the twilight of his 
 absence ; but Hilary Stoughty immediately shone 
 forth, Sir Saph became again Sir Oracle, and 
 our society founds its original level. Dr. Hughes 
 took some kindly pains with my studies, and I 
 listlessly got through the winter months. On 
 the whole, I looked forward to Oxford ; but the 
 smoke of the child - crime continually overtook
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 149 
 
 my weary steps, and darkened the prospect in 
 every direction ; and Clarice, my only possible 
 friend, was dead. Doubtless, this was a sickly 
 cast of thouglit, but I had acquired the habit of 
 it in IVIr. Rolt's reformatory. Meantime, my 
 strongest feehngs were dislikes. Dr. Hughes, 
 who was kind-hearted and experienced, advised 
 my mother to send me to a first-rate tutor, to 
 give up schooling me, and put me under some 
 one who would lead, not drive me. Mrs. Smith 
 seconded him in her rough way : 
 
 " You think your son a toy, my dear Gertrude, 
 out of order, but still a machine to be mended 
 with glue and packthread." 
 
 " I wish I could see him what his father would 
 have desired," sighed my mother. 
 
 " But, meantime, you must take him for what 
 he is, and you had better have what he is found 
 out for you by some one who understands the 
 vagaries of youth better than any mother can." 
 
 "Who can be so good a judge?" 
 
 "Who so bad? We set our hearts on some 
 ideal, say a white ass, which is to be unspotted.
 
 150 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 docile, hardworking, and so on, but our progeny 
 turns into a zebra, and every stripe is a grievance, 
 yet the world will admire it more than our ass." 
 
 " But what can I do, dear Cicely ? I can't make 
 a home at Ashhurst> — my health keeps me abroad 
 most of the year ; am I right in committing him 
 to chance guardians ? " 
 
 "Of course; send him to a tutor to lick him 
 into shape for Oxford." 
 
 " But you don't know." 
 
 "Yes, I do, that whatever he is he is being 
 ruined here. Do you mean him to enter any 
 profession ? " 
 
 " I hardly know." 
 
 " Much will depend on what he does at Oxford. 
 He is after all little more than a child." 
 
 It happened that Mr. Armstrong attained liis 
 promised living about the same time my mother 
 shifted her winter quarters ; he agreed to prepare 
 me for college, and expressed himself in a satis- 
 factory way to my mother concerning " Tractarian- 
 ism." His connection with De Boville secured 
 gentlemanlikeness. Dr. Hughes had heard him
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 151 
 
 highly praised bv a don of his college, so in mv 
 eighteenth year I found myself estabhshed in the 
 " Derries glebe," situated in a midland county of 
 Ireland. 
 
 I was told by a neighbour zealous for the 
 departed glories of the country, and in no part of it 
 was such zeal more required, that " The Derries " 
 meant the oaks, and that traces of uninterrupted 
 forest were traceable on all the gravel bumps in 
 the parish : but nothing could exceed the present 
 desolation of the scene that lay about the knoll 
 on which our rectory was built: in the marshes, 
 stained rust-colour, and separated by black turf 
 quarries from the barren downs, was here and 
 there a livid pond that lapped the acrid shores 
 with white -toothed spiteful wavelets ; shallow, 
 yet reedless meres, only broken by grisly spikes 
 of giant trunks that rose above the surface in 
 the heats of summer, and spread clawing roots 
 along the greenish bottom. 
 
 A tuft of low-growing, gnarled fir-trees shel- 
 tered the house from the west wind, and their 
 sombre red and green tints and sideways growth
 
 152 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 towards the sun harmonized with the unlovely 
 landscape. The very birds suited it. Troops 
 of wild-fowl, from the melancholy heron to the 
 shy grebe, cried in the watery flats, and in winter 
 swirlmg gulls came like dark spots on the light 
 grey sleet clouds. 
 
 Some five miles, and apart, two white police- 
 barracks gleamed like the tops of Saxon tusks 
 that had bitten through the land. Beyond them, a 
 broad moor-swelling shut out the south, yet 
 these so-called mountains were sometimes beau- 
 tiful in colour, if not in outline. Their russet 
 hue turned to richest purple in the autumn, and 
 columns of pearly vapour rose from them like 
 altar -incense, when their gorse or heather 
 covering was set on fire, or in dark threads of 
 smoke above a point of light, when the Bel-fires 
 were lighted on St. John's eve. 
 
 Even the clouds were flat and pale — except 
 at sunset, when a greater glory kindled a longer 
 perspective of arched and ribbed flrmament than I 
 have ever seen elsewhere. Strange moui-nful 
 landscape, only beautiful ere its nightly death.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 " For years in this same mood 
 I rested : nor from any object turned 
 That had its secret to be spelled and learned, 
 Murmuring ever ' knowledge is most good.' 
 
 " And all was as a dream whence, holding breath, 
 It seemed at times just possible to break 
 By some wild nervous effort, with a shriek 
 Into the real world of life and death." 
 
 Owen ^Ieredtth. 
 
 In sheer desperation I began to read violentlj, 
 but I grew dull after some months of work, 
 from self-exhaustion, unremedied by reception 
 of beauty or interest from without. 
 
 " What are you here for ? " I asked Mr. 
 Armstrong, one Sunday, as we returned from the 
 single service of the week. " You are not the 
 priest of this people." 
 
 " No, only their Protestor ; but that is no sine- 
 cure. I am their officer, and expected to lead 
 them against the enemy."
 
 154 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 ^' Your congregation is but a small force for that." 
 " Too small to be disciplined," observed Mr. 
 Armstrong, ^Yllo had lately found parish govern- 
 ment troublesome. " The smaller a congregation 
 is, the more it insists on doctrine and refuses 
 discipline; the more isolated, the more it pro- 
 tests. We are here an outpost," he continued, 
 with a quaint smile, " and can't be over-particular 
 about our uniforms and parades." 
 
 The effect was unsatisfactory. Nothing struck 
 me more than the want of consideration shown 
 by all classes for their rector. To the smaller 
 gentry, descendants of Williamite settlers, or the 
 yet more vehement class who had but yesterday 
 asserted their gentility and right to one of the 
 square pews in the church, their clergyman was a 
 preaching machine. To the great man of the 
 parish he was an official to be occasionally 
 noticed, but from whom no pastoral teaching 
 would be tolerated: without authority, whether 
 in doctrinal or disciplinarian points: who had 
 to do by law with his birth, death, or marriage, 
 but had nothing to say to the rest of his life.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 155 
 
 I might, if I had chosen, have been hospitably 
 received by the outlying gentry, but I was in 
 a reading-fit, and disinclined to make fresh ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 Mr, Armstrong's sermons were logical and 
 clever ; they forced me both to listen and think. 
 It seems to me impossible for the mmd to hear 
 proofs drawn up in clear order without wishing to 
 test them. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong was inexorable in his reasoning, 
 but he took some truths for granted. I was 
 young, and his logical sermons begot m me the 
 habit of requirhig demonstration. Doctrinal 
 discussion interested me as an exercise of the 
 intellect. I found that religious truth was 
 referred to my personal and undisciplmed judg- 
 ment; this induced a habit of questioning its 
 basis. 
 
 Next, in despair, I doubted my capacity of 
 judgment: at this point I might have looked to 
 Roman Catholicism for deliverance, had I not 
 turned back on myself, and decided that truth 
 was subject to our conception of it.
 
 156 GASTON ELIGH. 
 
 I need not pursue the inferences I drew ; but, 
 after all, was this not a probable consequence to 
 Mr. Armstrong's attempted logical proofs of 
 doctrines which our reason is not broad enough to 
 support ? 
 
 Build the biggest pyramid, and think it could 
 support the Alps ! I felt the impossibility, and 
 made believe that there were no Alps, that they 
 were but a mirage, and that there was no need for 
 the pyramid in consequence. The heaven- 
 piercing hills were but a beautiful ocular phe- 
 nomenon visible to some, but not to others. Very 
 exalting to the minds of those lucky enough to 
 perceive it, but by no means necessary to all. 
 
 So Clarice's Bible lay undisturbed under a 
 pile of scholarly MS. I did not think much of 
 life while thus occupied in brain-work; life is 
 perhaps the least acceptable of all considerations 
 to reason. 
 
 I spent a month with my mother before begin- 
 ning my residence at Oxford, and I think she was 
 pleased to find me less ^^self conscious" than before; 
 but I was inwardly more antagonistic to her than
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 157 
 
 ever; in proportion as I adopted the theory of 
 *' Every man his own creed-maker," I became 
 less tolerant of the idiosyncracies of others; for 
 the rule held good — the more liberty the more 
 despotism. 
 
 Nothing could be falser than the view I took 
 of life durmg the two first years of my Oxford 
 life. I believed it an arena in which the more 
 animal natures indulged their passions, the more 
 intellectual indulged their ambitions. Society 
 seemed a confusion of units ever tossed on a 
 sea of words; for Babel appears to me not so 
 much the confusion of languages as the separa- 
 tion of thought from its appropriate expression : 
 Between these a half-bridged gulf lies, and men 
 can only approach but never join in meaning. 
 
 To my indifferentism, love seemed but a pendant 
 to hatred ; duty a social institution : all the good 
 of the world excellent machinery for social happi- 
 ness, all its evil a sort of raw material for the 
 machinery to work on. 
 
 I ceased to expect to make friends ; they were 
 a part of the theory of life, as Neptune is
 
 158 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 necessary in tlie balance of the solar system, 
 but equally non-existent to me. 
 
 All this was very youthful. Mr. Armstrong's 
 sermons had set me thinking, and Oxford 
 experiences set me concluding. I had yet to 
 learn to live ; I fancied that to think and to con- 
 clude were the business of life, I found later 
 they had little to do wuth it. 
 
 The sources of involuntary faith had been 
 dried up in me by my unloving childhood, and 
 that is the only faith that can stand the wear 
 and tear of education. If I had not been so 
 habituated to internal conflict I think I should 
 have joined the church which promises rest, 
 but God provided it in another way, and 
 through another baptism.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Am I not, am I not, here alone 
 
 So many a summer since she died. 
 Till a morbid hate and horror have grown 
 
 Of a world in which I have hardly mixed, 
 
 And a morbid eating lichen fixt 
 On a heart half-turned to stone." — Tennyson. 
 
 I HAD yet some months of Oxford before me 
 when I came of age. About three weeks before 
 that event we broke up for the long vacation, 
 and I joined my mother and the Smiths in an 
 Irish tour, undertaken in obedience to an article 
 m the Times which mentioned a pilgrimage 
 through that lately galvanized country as a 
 sort of British duty. I was a little exhausted 
 by green tea and doubting, and willingly 
 egaged in an ad libitum pedestrian accompani- 
 ment to their guide-book progresses. 
 
 The ends of our party in this expedition 
 were diverse. My mother was intent on round
 
 .160 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 towers, tlie increase of Protestantism and the 
 Giant's Causeway. Mrs. Smith resolved to under- 
 stand the people and judge of the country, while 
 her husband vaguely thought of picking up a 
 bargain in second-hand land estates, a property 
 beginning to look up ; Miss Smith, very wisely 
 I thought, remembering the Derries, had preferred 
 staying with some friends in .Kent, but her 
 manifold perfections were the common theme 
 of her mother's conversation; and I heard so 
 much of her social success, her gilt hair, her 
 musical powers, her graceful figure, and graphic 
 letters, that I felt that my old tormentor was, as 
 all prodigies are, a bore. 
 
 Mrs. Smith had neither tact nor reserve — 
 inestimable negatives in my mother's eyes, but 
 not in mine ; so I diverged from the family route 
 at Dublin. They pursued more thorough investi- 
 gations in the West while I glanced at Wicklow 
 and the south coast. 
 
 " We shall probably meet before three weeks 
 pass, Gaston," said my mother, "but if not, 
 remember you have business in England ;
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 161 
 
 Gibson will have the accounts and papers ready, 
 and you should not delay to examine them." 
 
 "But will not your presence, mother, be 
 required ? At least, I hope — ■ — " 
 
 " No, I don't think I shall be requu-ed,"' she 
 said, hastily, " and it will be as much as Gibson's 
 house can do to receive you. I can sign any 
 necessary forms in London." 
 
 " Then, if you have not had enough of Ireland 
 by the sixth of next month, I am to go over 
 without you ? " 
 
 " As you choose." 
 
 "Very well. Good-bye, then," and I edged 
 myself into an "inside car" and after ten 
 minutes' combat with my portmanteau, I caught 
 the train for Kingstown. 
 
 As ill-luck would have it, I met a college 
 acquaintance at the station. He was as harm- 
 less a fellow as I could have come across ; but 
 there are two sorts of travelling — you either 
 open your heart or your brain : sometimes, for 
 all your locomotion, if you are in company 
 with a friend, you run the risk of not travelling 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 at all, but only gyrating round your own theories.' 
 If you have a chance companion, you may per- 
 haps catalogue facts; but your best chance is 
 solitude, when your heart will open to receive 
 the revelation of the " lex, non scripta," but hiero- 
 glyphed on the arrow-headed mountains, or on the 
 aerial friezes, on the infinite curves of leaf or 
 waterfall, on the fossil archives of the rocks, or 
 even charactered where no other writing could 
 endure, on the sands of the sea, or the dust of 
 the roadside. ^ 
 
 Halston was not of my set : he cared as little 
 for scholarship as I for good fellowship ; but 
 we kept together in a forlorn English way, 
 and talked of everything — the surest preventive 
 against feeling anything. 
 
 This part of Ireland is charming. We watched 
 the silver tissued waterfalls, and tawny waterleaps, 
 but only noted their height and volume. We 
 got on the top of Brayhead to look for the 
 English coast, and not discovering that, glanced 
 at the sky to see if the weather were settled^ 
 The " Dargle " struck us as well-kept ; the
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 163 
 
 foregrounds of our prospects we thought civilized 
 enough — the distance " good bits of colour " 
 for Halston to transfer to his sketch-book. 
 
 Three weeks slipped away thus, and I was 
 reminded of the fact only by the giving out of 
 the Psalms in an unthriving exotic-looking church 
 to which we went one Sunday. In two more days 
 I ought to be at Ashhurst. 
 
 In five more I had finished my business there, 
 and prepared with relief to leave the presence 
 of the scarred ruin which should have been 
 my home. 
 
 Gibson, the old agent, was disappointed at my 
 refusal to speak of building a new house. He 
 had done all he could to remedy the want of 
 capital, and of a master's residence ; and I found 
 my estate in good preservation, and a considerable 
 sum laid by towards paying off a mortgage that 
 pressed on it. 
 
 There was a dead level of prosperity in all 
 this which weighed on me more than adversity 
 would have done, there in the face of the past, 
 yet I wondered that I did not feel more sorry,
 
 164 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 and ashamed. I had so long bowed before the 
 shadow of my wrong-domg that I was now 
 angry with myself, for my indifference to its 
 nearness. 
 
 There is no sin more depressing than unrepent- 
 ance. I wished I could compensate the evil by 
 self-condemnation, but repentance will not come 
 to order ; there was nothing left me but indiffer- 
 ence, if I could secure it. 
 
 I left my home more unhouselled than ever, 
 even trying to tear out of my mind the last 
 clinging tendrils of belief in beliefs. 
 
 " By the way, sir," said Gibson, as he drove 
 me to Watgate station, "Colonel Godwin was 
 here inquiring for you last week ; he hoped 
 particularlike you would go and see him." 
 
 "Colonel Godwin! why didn't you tell me 
 yesterday?" 
 
 " I quite forgot, sir ; but you '11 soon return to us 
 again? " 
 
 " I don't know. I wish you had mentioned 
 this before, Gibson ; but after all, I shouldn't 
 have gone," I added to myself: "better not, I 
 will not raise more ghosts."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 165 
 
 " Well, sir," observed Gibson, who had caucrht 
 the last word, " they do say the place is haunted, 
 but I don't believe in spirits, as I remarked 
 to Miss Godwin." 
 
 " Was she here ? " 
 
 "Well, it's likely it was Miss Godwin, sir; 
 though she does not resemble the Colonel. She 's 
 very handsome to my mind, and John Mains, who 
 lives in their parish, tells me she is a perfect 
 angel among the poor folk." 
 
 We had reached Watgate, and I had no oppor- 
 tunity for farther inquiries, as we were but just 
 soon enough for the train. Passing by the door of 
 the station-master's room, I saw the old books 
 against the wall. " Saints' Rest !" a fanatic di-eam ! 
 I thrust the thought of it from me, as one would 
 a known impostor.
 
 166 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " She met me, stranger, upon life's rough way. 
 Angel ! Pilot of the fate 
 Whose course has been so starless." — Shelley. 
 
 " Questo, Donna, m'avvien, poich 'io vi vidi, 
 Ch'un dolce amaro, un si e no mi muove : 
 Certo saranno stati gli occhi yostri." 
 
 MiCHELAGNOLO. 
 
 There were two occupants of the compartment 
 I got into ; but I was not in an inquisitive mood, 
 so I set myself to look vacantly out of window, 
 while I thought where I should go to read for 
 the rest of the vacation. I found my attention, 
 however, gradually drawn to a hat on the seat 
 before me, that certainly was not first-class, 
 and that contained a red cotton pocket hand- 
 kerchief, and a pair of quaint knitted mittens. 
 
 By its side was a well-appointed travelling- 
 bag, a little open, and next it a packet of books 
 apparently to be sent to the binder, for their
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 167 
 
 names were written on slips of paper pasted 
 on their covers. 
 
 *^ Niccolo de Lapi ; " *^ ' Caracteres' La Bruyere ;" 
 " Rime di Messer Michelagnolo Buonarroti ;" *' La 
 Petite Fadette;" "Index Volume of Em- 
 manuel Swedenborg's ' Arcana Celestia.' " A 
 pair of small kid gloves and a parasol lay across 
 the parcel. Another day I should prohably 
 have laughed at the incongruous medley, but 
 instead, I began to draw conclusions from the 
 writing on them. It was a half-foreign hand, 
 in which the tails of the letters entangled the 
 words in flourishes, not unlike those made by 
 Mr. Brio^ss' eel, but within the cloud marched 
 the serried delicate characters legible as print. 
 My investigations were checked by a horny 
 hand nervously protruded by my next neighbour. 
 It reverently closed the bag, and placed it on 
 a farther seat next a young lady, who sat far 
 back, and whose face I could not see. But her 
 hand was beautiful, and that bit of wrist and arm 
 which glimmered under her loose white sleeve, as 
 she rested it languidly on the division of the seat.
 
 168 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 A thousand fancies crowded on me about 
 that arm. I made long histories out of the ex- 
 pression of that hand. Why, when it was so 
 beautiful, did it hang so listlessly? 
 
 I surveyed the rugged head, the rugged tie, 
 the rugged cloth, and hands, and nails, and feet 
 beside me. No, they could have nothing to say 
 to that delicate, weary hand. 
 
 My conjectures were suddenly set at rest ; 
 the lady turned a quick, half-startled look towards 
 me, as if she had ''felt my thoughts; mutual 
 recognition followed — it was my cousin Sylvia 
 Godwin. 
 
 Next moment I was sitting next her, and I 
 held that hand for a second in mine involuntarily. 
 Then recalling the past, a pain of memory, a 
 chill of presence, darted through me, quickly 
 chased by a rush of indistinguishable emotions, 
 half-thought, half-feeling. 
 
 If it were necessary to analyse the events 
 of that day, I could give many plausible reasons 
 for my sudden attraction to Sylvia, and the 
 inexplicable influence she at once exercised on
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 169 
 
 mj life; but what need? Is "human love the 
 growth of human will," or subject to human 
 explanation ? I knew absolutely nothing of 
 beauty till that hour. I had thought about the 
 beautiful as every educated man will. But 
 present beauty was a sudden revelation to 
 me. 
 
 I cannot catalogue Sylvia's features. Others 
 said she had dark eyes, I saw but the soul- 
 light in. them; others said her hair was soft, 
 I knew only the electric touch of it ; and so with 
 all the rest; delicate mouth, open nostril, broad, 
 low brow, were but the enchanted home of her 
 lambent beauty, dimly seen through its dazzling 
 light ; so with her lithe, rounded form, the perfec- 
 tion of which lacked not unerring grace of 
 expression. Is this a lover's speech? Well, 
 I thank God I am a lover, and only pray His 
 forgiveness, that I have not been yet more 
 loving. 
 
 We talk of that Paradise which shall dazzle 
 the eyes of good men who have long toiled 
 through the world's twilight ; of its wondrous
 
 170 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 seas and gardens, its New Jerusalem with jewel- 
 gates and celestial radiance. I believe this 
 will be only the perfecting of highest love by 
 which our blindness shall be removed. I am 
 not — ^no, I am not wrong in feeling that this, my 
 mortal love, was a ray altogether divine. A 
 ray dimmed by clouds, darkened by the world- 
 light — refracted in our grosser atmosphere until 
 its source was unknown ; yet still I look back and 
 say, with grateful awe, my earthly love was a 
 pure wave from the eternal sea. It broke in 
 surf of bewildering brightness on my obdurate 
 heart. The wave has retreated, but it has left 
 its message of the inexhaustible fountain, made 
 moisture in a dry place and food for kindly 
 moss and lichen that give tender light to the 
 dark scene. Thank God for having loved! 
 
 One feels strangely the worse than poverty — 
 the irreverence — of words, when conventional 
 forms of speech have to be used between those 
 whose '^ two celled heart " does not yet beat 
 one life, and has no need for language except 
 as pastime.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 171 
 
 We spoke of the weather ; her replies, trivial 
 as they were, eddied round mj heart; when 
 I helped her out at Langham station I must 
 have said something incoherent, for she looked 
 wonderingly at me. 
 
 I gave her the bag, and held the parcel of 
 books for her. 
 
 '* Thanks ; that is to go to town with Martin. 
 Martin, please don't forget to call at Rolandi's 
 for my books, and leave these : the bell has rung, 
 won't you get in, Mr. Bligh ?" 
 
 I recognised in Martin, Colonel Godwin's land- 
 steward, who had announced Clarice's death to 
 me nearly five years before. He took one or 
 two parcels from under the seat he had occupied, 
 and said, in an explanatory way — 
 
 " I came in this class, sir, to take charge of Miss 
 Godwin." 
 
 I suppose he saw I was impatient to be alone. 
 
 I have described the after-memory rather than 
 the immediate impression of that meeting; look- 
 ing back, I understand what happened ; not love 
 at first sight, but that consciousness of having
 
 172 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 found my soul's counterpart winch is rather pain 
 than joy until the union of soul with soul, in 
 reciprocate love, is perfect. 
 
 I leant back shivering, and tried to think as 
 I was used to do: I did not then know that 
 Sylvia had become the necessary object of 
 thought ; words died with me. So I bent myself 
 back to my former life, and meditated on my 
 autumn reading, my chance of a first-class, So 
 and-so's last article in the "Westminster," such 
 another's prospects at the bar, all the rubbish 
 with which I filled up the foreground of my life, 
 that the distances might not trouble me. 
 
 And I succeeded for an hour or two, but, 
 as the day's veil fell from the world of light, 
 I let myself drift back to that dark boyhood 
 of mine, for th^ sake of the unknown light which 
 had come between me and it, and cast the shadows 
 backwards.
 
 GASTOX BLIGH. 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " Of Love that never found his earthly close 
 What sequel ? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts, 
 Or all the same as if he not been ? 
 
 Not so 
 
 Am I not the nobler through thy love, 
 three times less unworthy ? " — Texxtsox. 
 
 I BELIEVE at those crises of our life when a 
 pure enthusiasm ennobles it, we become more 
 childlike than when we are drivino" our ordinary 
 bargains of good and evil ; we cease to calculate, 
 and doubt not that we can grasp the farthest 
 star, with disregard of space, or hurry to the 
 morrow with equal disregard of time; nothing 
 is more childlike than our mistaken estimate at 
 such seasons of our power ; no deed seems 
 inconceivable, only inaction is impossible ; mean- 
 time, the many in the trough of the wave scoff 
 at the few on its crest, and call the light on their 
 brows a will o' the wisp.
 
 174 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 I longed for some vague "to come;" yet at 
 the time I thought myself strangely apathetic, 
 insensible to affection, and unchangeable in my 
 cynical views of life — for sounds higher or lower 
 than those we are used to, are inaudible. 
 
 "I am truly glad to see you, my dear fellow. 
 Allow me to introduce you to Lady Joanna 
 Hughes. How is your excellent mother?" 
 
 I was staring with little interest at a picture 
 in the Academy Exhibition, when Dr. Hughes 
 addressed me. I had seen him pretty constantly 
 the first year I went up to Oxford, but he had 
 since married the elderly but excellent Lady 
 Joanna Fitz-Exeter, and settled down in a con- 
 venient living. 
 
 My mother was quite well, I believed. In 
 Ireland with the Smiths. 
 
 " A most interesting country to one so zealous 
 for good as Mrs. Bligh, but I suppose you are not 
 inclined to idle ? Double-first, eh ? " 
 
 '' Certainly not ; indeed I am inclined to go to 
 Kamschatka or Timbuctoo, or somewhere out of 
 the smell of books."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 175 
 
 " If you prefer the smell of flowers, Lady 
 Joanna will be most liappy if you '11 come to us." 
 
 " Most happy," repeated Lady Joanna, benignly. 
 ^^ And London is so hot. We go down this evening." 
 
 ^^ Thank you, you are very good; but I " 
 
 I began hastily. 
 
 " Well, well, whenever you choose you can run 
 down. You get out at Langham station." 
 
 " Langham station ; but — but I was going 
 
 to say how happy I shall be to avail myself of 
 your kindness. London is detestable." 
 
 "To-day or to-morrow?" 
 
 " To-morrow, then, if you please." 
 
 Sylvia had got out at Langham station. I was 
 well inclined to visit good Dr. Hughes, better 
 Lady Joanna, best Langham station. 
 
 Dr. Hughes had a fancy farm. Lady Joanna 
 fancy schools; Dr. Hughes the most perfect cob, 
 Lady Joanna the best roses in the neighbourhood. 
 They were both in their element, and therefore 
 both very amiable and pleasant. I henceforth 
 understood the pretty little books dated from 
 Langham Rectory: graceful upper class religious
 
 176 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 stories and allegories grew naturally in such a 
 sheltered clerical bower. ''Maud, or the Mis- 
 chiefs of Meddling." " Guenevere, or Goods versus 
 Gauds/' became more intelligible to me, with their 
 description of minute virtues and vices — trials of 
 a midge bite, and temptations to kill the midge. 
 
 At Langham the midges became griffins; and 
 after a day's assimilation, one feared them quite 
 as much : indeed, I daresay the griffin would not 
 have seemed nearly so important as the midge. 
 But I grew impatient of roses and cob, and said 
 vaguely, the second morning of my visit — 
 
 "Of course you have plenty of neighbours?" 
 
 "Oh yes, Ulrica Smith was quite amused one 
 day by all the driving and riding parties we met." 
 
 " Ulrica Smith ! I didn't know she had been 
 with you." 
 
 "Joanna and she are great allies," interposed 
 the Rector ; " by the way, your pony chair is all 
 right again." 
 
 " Lady Browne's coachman nearly ran over us." 
 
 " Imagine, Mr. Bligh, this cockney driving four- 
 in-hand about these narrow lanes."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 177 
 
 " Well, my dear, take care of your ponies in 
 future. Sir John Browne is one of our great 
 supports, a most excellent man and always at his 
 post." 
 
 " Ulrica was driving." 
 
 " Then I Ve no doubt the blame lay with her. 
 She's an untamed creature." 
 
 "Don't you think her beautiful, Mr. Bligh?" 
 
 " I have not seen her since she was a wild, 
 little bony child." 
 
 " She is quite charming," said good, quiet Lady 
 Joanna, enthusiastically, " so natural and un- 
 affected. I admire her excessively too, and that 
 always goes a long way with me." 
 
 " A very pleasant young person, but a little 
 undisciplined : Joanna, I did not much like her 
 manner of discarding young Hope." 
 
 " Hush, hush, dear ! " 
 
 " Well, her mother seems devoted to her," I 
 said. 
 
 " And so are too many," observed Dr. Hughes. 
 
 " I 'm sure you 'd be of my opinion, Mr. Bligh," 
 smiled Lady Joanna. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 "Not I fear unless my memory plays me 
 false. I couldn't appreciate the child of her girl- 
 hood." 
 
 " Don't be too sure," said the experienced Dr. 
 Hughes with a beaming, benevolent air. " She is 
 a charming being, and quite won my old heart. 
 But you must see her ere her fate for life is 
 decided ; she will have dozens of soupirants. Old 
 Smith, let me see, can't leave her less than a 
 hundred thousand." 
 
 " Well, if I 'm not mistaken, Ulrica will be 
 herself the attraction," said Lady Joanna, with 
 unworldly indignation, as she rose from the breal^- 
 fast-table. 
 
 It was one of those soft-tempered days, not 
 sultry but thoroughly and equally warm, which 
 change flower to fruit and leave films of their 
 blue haze behind them, in bloom on plum and 
 peach. Distant showers made the horizon in- 
 distinct, but I hardly looked beyond the fore- 
 grounds of infinitely beautiful grasses and ferns — 
 so tangled, yet without one ungraceful curve ; so 
 still, until I sat down among them and perceived 
 
 i
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 179 
 
 the unceasing stir made by their insect-world : en- 
 tranced dragon-flies, the poets of their community, 
 dreamt hours away on a sunny leaf, or flashed 
 tlirough the obscure of woods like passing revela- 
 tions of the brighter world ; and restless butterflies 
 were scattered through the lanes, but found no 
 flower beautiful enough for constancy; bumble- 
 bees rolled, mirthfully drunk, Silenus fashion, 
 and gnats grimly furbished their weapons, while 
 I watched all the acrobats that walk stiltwise 
 among the spiked grasses. 
 
 I wandered on, led by sweet sounds and distant 
 gleams, until the lane I followed dived under an 
 arch of quaint old trees and made a rapid descent 
 under their ribbed perspective. I stopped to gaze 
 at the perfect framing of the brown path, and 
 leant against the bank saddened by the loveliness 
 of the scene. It weighed on me; I wanted to 
 gather it up in my hand, and possess it ; to enfold 
 it in my arms and love it, and be loved : but 
 the dragon-flies and butterflies went their way 
 unheeding, and the sunlight pattered through 
 the branches, and I was alone — longing, longing 
 
 N 2
 
 180 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 for communion ; for the first time longing for 
 the unknown. I leant against the bank, while 
 my senses reeled from the beautj before me 
 in painful darkness before the longed-for light. 
 
 Like a vision, Sylvia came up the shadowy 
 track in pale soft-outlined dress that seemed to 
 blend with the blue haze of light and shade. 
 
 She came on slowly — some\irhat languidly — her 
 white brow gleaming like moonlight through the 
 day-flush around. She carried her straw hat 
 in her hand, and her head was raised half- 
 thoughtfully, half as if to receive refreshment 
 from the Heaven light. How sad her eyes were 
 for one so young. How listless her step ! 
 
 Therefore I loved her, therefore she was mine, 
 to enfold, to possess — not like those other Pre- 
 sences whose unmarred perfection had repelled 
 my longing heart. 
 
 I did not advance to meet her : I would not break 
 the spell each footstep of hers wound closer round 
 me ; at last she perceived me, and started. We 
 were but Miss Godwin and Gaston Bligh after all. 
 
 " This is a pretty lane, is it not, Mr. Bligh ?"
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 181 
 
 " I have been admiring it ; it was beautiful." 
 
 " Yes, the sun is clouded now, I see. I fancied 
 you said the other day that you were going to 
 stay in London." 
 
 " So I thought; but I am at Langham 
 Rectory." 
 
 " Oh, I have met Lady Joanna. My friends 
 here know them intimately." 
 
 " And they are— ? " 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Newton. The house is just 
 below, Newton Aylmer. Have you walked over 
 from Langham." 
 
 " I believe so ; I am here." 
 
 *' I don't see any hippogriff, but will you 
 turn with me? If you care for gardens, they 
 are beautiftd here." 
 
 We went down that shadowy lane together. 
 There was no weight on my heart then. I cannot 
 tell how it was with me, and that is the best 
 record of happiness. 
 
 We passed through a private gate at the bottom 
 of the hill, to a lawn bright with flowers, arranged 
 in quaint colour pattern round the house of Newton
 
 182 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Aylmer. It stood neutral among them, like the 
 text in a page of an illuminated book. Two chil- 
 dren flitted among the gem-like flower-beds, and a 
 lady came from the shady margin of the parterre 
 to meet us. 
 
 " That is my friend, Mrs. Newton, and Harry, 
 my little brother." 
 
 " Which of the children ? " 
 
 " The tallest." 
 
 " How very slight and fair I " 
 
 "The scarlet of the geraniums makes him 
 seem more so," said Sylvia, quickly. 
 
 We were both silent, until Mrs. Newton joined 
 us. She was most kind to me, and made me 
 feel at once at home among her lares. As we 
 strolled towards the house, I observed that she 
 leant on Sylvia's arm affectionately. Meantime, 
 Harry, suddenly demure, edged himself between 
 me and his sister, and took her offered hand. 
 Clarice's legacy ! I wished to hold his other 
 hand, and half-offered mine, but he shrank away 
 shyly, and looked up at me with wide open con- 
 templative eyes.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 183 
 
 The expression of his tiny face was a message 
 from Clarice of her last moments — of suffering 
 endured, and sorrow that has purified; of the 
 pain of life calmed by the sure approach of death,, 
 the mystery of death brightened by reflection of 
 the succeeding life. 
 
 I wished to know more of the child, but 
 dared not intrude on his infantine reserve. 
 
 *' Harry and Mary have been gathering all 
 sorts of wild flowers," said Mrs. Newton. *^ You 
 must arrange them for me, Sylvia. They won't 
 obey my fingers." 
 
 "I got all the white flowers, darling," said 
 Harold to his sister, breaking out suddenly into 
 quick speech ; ^' and Mary said they 'd die quicker 
 than her yellow and pink ones. But you '11 put 
 them in water directly, Sylvia, won't you?" 
 
 "I don't think white flowers die the soonest, 
 Harry." 
 
 A thought passed among us that made us silent 
 for a moment, while we went through the rain- 
 bow-like veranda to the cool hall of the house, 
 full of floating harmonized perfumes.
 
 184 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 I do not think one shade of my former self 
 was present with me as I crossed the threshold. 
 It was only as a back-ground against which the 
 dreamlight of that day shone doubly bright. 
 
 The memories of Clarice were not painful: 
 like minor strains they completed the full-toned 
 happiness, and even by making it less they 
 enhanced it to me. Shading gives form to 
 surface. 
 
 I do not say I was a better or a different man, 
 but I had a new life ; senses, faculties, knowledge, 
 remained the same; yet, informed with a new soul, 
 all were different. How beautiful all things 
 seemed to me ! I had the second-sight which 
 reveals the Divine energy in all creation — the 
 Life of the world. 
 
 And yet I did not know I loved ; and if I had 
 been told, I should have shunned the thought. 
 Ignorant that it w^as the solution of my new 
 existence, I should have feared least aught of 
 selfish feeling might dispel my enchantments; 
 ignorant that they were realities, that self was 
 not a monster to be chained but rather highly
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 185 
 
 favoured, for whom infinite happiness was prepared, 
 that was gifted with capacity for infinite reception 
 of it ; I was so ignorant I feared to love, yet how 
 Sylvia seemed to draw my very soul out to hers ! 
 
 I stayed for luncheon, at which Mr. Newton 
 appeared. I found he was the scene-shifter 
 of all the colour and beauty at Newton, the 
 scientific producer of flower and fruit — con- 
 versant with details and methods, and ever ready 
 to prove by laws the most evanescent feelings. 
 He told us why to love the colonizing of the 
 rainbow, and said that all admiration and emotion 
 resulted from a satisfied desire of order. His 
 theories were doubtless right, for he succeeded 
 in creating beauty, but I had not leisure to 
 listen to him then. 
 
 " Has your father found a moor to suit him. 
 Miss Godwin?" he inquired, reminding me that 
 I had altogether forgotten my uncle's existence. 
 
 "I think not; it is not likely so late in the 
 season, but he writes of going still further west." 
 
 "And says no more of your returning to West- 
 cote, I hope, at all events, till he comes back ? "
 
 186 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 "No, if you and Eleanor will have me and 
 Harry, he seemed to wish me to stay." 
 
 " Have you ? rather ! besides you must wait 
 till the new Cerens blows; and Eleanor was 
 saying something of Sydenham — it's such a 
 pleasant way to spend a day from here, seven 
 miles' drive only." 
 
 "Yoa are very kind, but I know papa will 
 wish me to go home some day this week, for a 
 few hours at least." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! Martin doesn't want overlooking, 
 nor do I give you credit for being practical. Miss 
 Godwin." 
 
 " Oh, you don't know me here ; I always dream 
 away my time with Eleanor." 
 
 "Who is enough to idle a beehive," said Mr. 
 Newton, good-humouredly, for he liked his post 
 of steam-engine to the establishment. 
 
 *^ Harry is all the better for change of air," 
 observed Mrs. Newton ; " and he doesn't approve 
 even of your leaving him for a day; on Thursday 
 he was restless all the time you were devoting 
 to Martin at Westcote. By-the-by your books
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 187 
 
 from Rolandi's will surely be at the station : shall 
 we walk over and see ? I am longing for the poet 
 you promised me." 
 
 " Can't you take the brougham, Eleanor ? " 
 *' The brougham, to-day, my dear husband ! 
 we don't come from Sahara, or we might have 
 a preference for dust and heat. No, Sylvia and 
 I will walk with you, and you '11 carry the parcel 
 and be the slave of the ring." 
 
 So it was arranged, and I found myself making 
 a round on my return to Langham Rectory, that 
 I might accompany them to the railway station.
 
 188 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Through me men gon into the blisful place, 
 Of hertes hole and dedly woundes cure ; 
 Through me men gone into the welle of grace, 
 There grene and lusty May shall ever endure ; 
 This is the way to all good aventure ; 
 Be glad thou reader, and thy sorow off caste ; 
 Al glad am I, passe in and spede thee faste." 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 In our order of march, I and Mrs. Newton were 
 together ; of all people I have ever met, she was 
 the one who knew best how and what to speak. 
 In ^ye minutes I found myself talking almost 
 unreservedly to her, and yet I think I must 
 have been one of the least manageable youths 
 she had ever met. But there was an irresistible 
 grace of kindness in her manner; which would 
 have won the heart of one, even less sensitive 
 than I was. 
 
 " I know you are Sylvia's cousin," she said, 
 after some trifling talk had gone before, "but
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 189 
 
 did you ever see •much of her? Do you know 
 Colonel Godwin ? " 
 
 ^^ Five years ago I was at TVestcote for a 
 fortnight." 
 
 " Five years? " she added gravely. " Then 
 you knew Sylvia's mother ? " 
 
 ^' Yes — very well — I was at Westcote a day 
 or two before Harold was bom." 
 
 "Yet Syh-ia never talked of you to me, 
 but perhaps it was too sad a time to admit of 
 other memories." 
 
 " I think " I broke down, but began again. 
 
 " Colonel Godwin was displeased about some 
 trifle, and perhaps Sylvia " 
 
 "Poor darling!" said ^Irs. Newton, thought- 
 fully; " and you knew her mother, Mr. Bligh ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " She must have been very perfect." 
 
 " Most perfect." 
 
 " How Sylvia leans on thoughts of her. She 
 is more constantly present with her, than if she 
 were alive." 
 
 " I cannot wonder, but I did not know."
 
 190 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Mrs. Newton glanced hastily at me. 
 
 " You don't seem to know Sylvia, but it is true 
 few do." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " She is, for some reasons, necessarily reserved. 
 She has much to make her more grave than is 
 popular." 
 
 •^ Is she not popular? " 
 
 " Why, she seldom goes into society. I think 
 Mr. Newton and I are her only friends." 
 
 " My uncle was very eccentric, when I was at 
 Westcote. He was quite unprepared, I fear, 
 for " 
 
 " Quite. The loss of her mother was a fearful 
 one to Sylvia. I do not know Colonel Godwin 
 intimately; and Sylvia is even to me reserved, 
 in speaking of her home, but her character shows 
 traces of a seven times heated refiner's fire." 
 
 " Have you been long her friend ? " 
 
 " Two years ago we made accidental acquain- 
 tance. It has proved a great happmess to both of 
 us, I think ; though I regret I can see so little 
 of her."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 191 
 
 ** Yet Westcote is but a short railway journey 
 from here." 
 
 *^She will not leave Colonel Godwin, and he 
 dislikes visiting. Sylvia never had so long a 
 holiday as this before ; her father fancied his 
 health would be the better for a moor this 
 autumn; and he has gone in a vain search for 
 one." 
 
 "Why vain?" 
 
 " Colonel Godwin succeeds in nothing, is pleased 
 with nothing for five minutes together. He is the 
 most unreasonable man that ever was out of an 
 asylum ; but I beg your pardon, ^Ir. Bligh, I 
 forgot he was your uncle, and Sylvia's father. 
 She would be hurt, if she knew I had spoken so 
 roughly. Will you excuse me ?" 
 
 I was a little taken aback by Mrs. Newton's 
 vehemence ; but I looked in her open indignant 
 kind face, and understood that she did not want 
 charity for all her strong words. 
 
 Few subjects made her angry but tliis, I 
 afterwards found ; and the gentlest have generally 
 one or two pet Geysers, within them, which
 
 192 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 boil up suddenly, to the surprise of their acquain- 
 tances. 
 
 " I know very little of my uncle," I replied. 
 " He seemed very devoted to his ovrn." 
 
 " Devoted — yes, perhaps for one hour of the 
 
 day, one day of the week, and all the rest 
 
 But I am unjust, I believe he cannot help himself. 
 His head is weakened by some old Peninsular 
 wound, and his heart has got dried up, and 
 rattles in its case instead of beating." 
 
 " Is he not kind to his daughter ?" 
 
 " Linked to her closely, but not kind ; he does 
 not know what it is : he is not even kind to 
 himself, he has not even the instinct of self 
 preservation. He would calumniate himself for the 
 mere sake of excitement. Sometimes he praises 
 his child as if she were already canonized, some- 
 times But let us speak of other things." The 
 
 tears stood in her soft eyes as she ceased this 
 fiery attack ; there was no malice in it, though a 
 great deal of intensity. 
 
 " I wish I had known Mrs. Godwin," she said 
 gently, after a pause ; " was she as beautiful as 
 Sylvia?"
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 193 
 
 " I— I hardly know. No ! Oh no ! but she was 
 ill when I last saw her ; she had a beauty that 
 I have never seen elsewhere, but I believe I 
 cannot judge." 
 
 " Sylvia looks tired and sad — was she so when 
 her mother was still with her ? " 
 
 "I will tell you the truth," I said, suddenly, 
 breaking through my constraint. " I loved 
 Clarice Godwin as few schoolboys could love ; 
 she was more to me from childhood than all 
 my other relations. I thought of no one, looked 
 at no one else wiien she was there ; her daughter 
 was a strancrer to me in those times." 
 
 o 
 
 Mrs. Newton looked up quickly at me, and 
 then resolutely down, as we walked on in silence 
 for a few steps. 
 
 They brought us to Langham station, where 
 was Lady Joanna in her pony-chair waiting for 
 Dr. Hughes, who had come, as we had, in search 
 of some expected trifle. The more trifling the 
 more expected. 
 
 Then followed greetings ; and I found myself 
 involved in the back seat of the pony-chair, and 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 taking off my hat^ with uncousinly ceremony, 
 to Miss Godwin. 
 
 " To-morrow we shall be most happy," I heard 
 Lady Joanna say, and I was appealed to for 
 something to which 1 also gave acquiescence, 
 half-way home discovering that the Rectory 
 party had accepted an invitation to dine at 
 Newton Aylmer. 
 
 I was glad when the rectorial dinner was over 
 that day with its sedate appointments and unim- 
 peachable guests, from the sharp, spectacled little 
 controversialist on one side, to the " right think- 
 ing" fine lady on the other, who was more than 
 cruessed to be the author of " Maud or the Mis- 
 chiefs of Meddling," edited by our host. Yet, 
 though I was impatient of her clique tone, I was 
 not so scornful of it as I should have been a week 
 ago. A world of possibilities had opened on me ; 
 I was ready to give credit for good to every one. 
 When I opened my window, and leant far out 
 into the friendly night, the stars bent down to 
 me with kind eyes, and their throbbing light 
 seemed to keep time with my full pulses. I
 
 GASTON BLIOH. 19o 
 
 walked half the night to and fro m my room, 
 receiving mj new life. 
 
 We were early, and Sylvia had not yet joined 
 the circle at Newton when we arrived. I was 
 too conscious of her coming, to watch for her 
 entrance, hut I felt the whole atmosphere of the 
 room change, and the consciousness of expectant 
 yoiuig ladies and ubiquitous backs which had 
 worried me, was altogether gone. I hardly cared 
 to break the spell of my contentment by address- 
 ing her, but she first spoke to me. Her voice 
 had the soft, low tone, peculiar to those who 
 have suffered patiently some life-long sori'ow. It 
 struck me more that evening than before, because 
 the entourage was so gay and bright, Mr. Newton 
 so practically, his wife so gracefully, happy in 
 their thorough home. 
 
 As it happened, I sat next Sylvia at dinner — 
 an ideal dinner. My hosts had been travellers, 
 and followed the Mexican custom of placing 
 flowers by each guest The water in our finger- 
 glasses was strewed with rose-leaves, and a group 
 of living orchids looked, with quaint, beneficent 
 
 2
 
 196 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 faces, from the centre of the table at us. It was 
 an enchanted feast, and all was new to me, who 
 had hitherto mixed little, even in the society of 
 my college acquaintances. 
 
 The windows were open, and the climbing plants 
 peeped in half-shyly to watch us, giving us kindly 
 messages of colour and perfume, borne in by the 
 evening breeze ; and the mignonette stood on tip- 
 toe by the low sill. 
 
 "My father hoped you would not leave our 
 neighbourhood so soon," said my cousin, after a 
 long silence on my part. 
 
 " I have not left our neighbourhood. I have no 
 definite plan except that Oxford stares me in the 
 face — and I meant to read this autumn." 
 
 " You like reading, do you not ; even the work 
 of it?" 
 
 " Yes, I have liked work and no play, in the hopes 
 of the fulfilment that ' Jack may be a dull boy.' " 
 
 " Well perhaps that is a better end than keen- 
 ness, unless, indeed the keenness be that of a 
 sword, and not of a carving-knife for the loaves 
 and fishes."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 197 
 
 *' I fear I aim at neither, only to receive the 
 blows of fortune with less risk of notches." 
 
 "Is it not better to give than receive them?" 
 
 " Indifference was my motto ; but I am begin- 
 nincr to ' dream of doin^.'" 
 
 " I hope you will not awake, to ^ undone ' " 
 
 " Do you think I shall ? " 
 
 " No, if you do not dream." 
 
 " Yet one may be a clairvoyant somnambulist. 
 Let me dream, it is very new to me. I have not 
 had much, even of the childhood sleep." 
 
 I waited for her answer, but the ladies left the 
 dining-room, and I did not receive it until we 
 were strolling among the flower-beds, in the dim 
 summer twilight, half an hour afterwards. Mrs. 
 Newton had led her "world of fair ladies" out 
 through the open casements, and we joined them 
 gladly. 
 
 " This is a dreamful evening," I said, as I and 
 Sylvia found ourselves together again, and both 
 attracted by some white enotheras, which lay like 
 little pools of moonlight on the dark ground. 
 
 " Why? Because it is too charming for reality?"
 
 198 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I should have said so, not long since, hut I 
 begin to think better of possibilities. A week ago 
 I did not dream of being here." 
 
 " Do not these great trees stand about us like 
 guards ? " 
 
 " No, they do not regard us ; they are en retraite, 
 and think only of heaven. One dreads to speak 
 above a whisper, lest they should be disturbed." 
 
 " I love nocturnal flowers — that enothera, for 
 instance. They are the Marys among flowers, the 
 gaudier ones are Marthas, cumbered about their 
 colours." 
 
 " You are not a Martha ? not one of the well- 
 regulated ? " 
 
 "Yes, oh yes — one is not what one admires 
 generally; but don't you approve of energy, 
 and work, and all that. You have worked hard, 
 have you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, to grow dull as I said before, but you — 
 you do a great deal at Westcote, I hear ? " 
 
 " I do all I can," she said, in a low voice, " in 
 commemoration." 
 
 We were silent for a while, then I asked —
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 199 
 
 "Where is Harold?" 
 
 " He is, I hope, dreaming of liis wreath. He 
 is so delicate and excitable, I cannot let him see 
 strangers late, or he would not sleep." 
 
 " But what is his wreath ? " 
 
 "Every night he hangs a bunch of flowers 
 from the roof of his bed. He says he likes to 
 know they are there." 
 
 " I know by your voice, when you speak of him, 
 that he is very dear to you." 
 
 " Yes, he is my chief happiness." 
 
 " And what comes next to that ?" 
 
 " I do not make catalogues of my blessings." 
 
 " Are they so many ? " 
 
 " Yes, so many," she said, with slight impatience 
 in her tone ; " but I see Mrs. Newton beckoning 
 to me. We must go in." 
 
 "I wish we might stay with the trees and 
 flowers a little longer, and receive gifts, as they 
 are evidently doing by their upturned faces." 
 
 ^' There are but few of them awake." 
 
 " And are not we ? or have I been only dream- 
 ing?"
 
 200 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I at least am not ; I am too well-regulated 
 to do anything but wake, too old for anything 
 else. See they are lighting the piano-candles. 
 Do you love music ? " 
 
 '* It is long since — you used to sing ? " 
 " Long since too," she said, " but you will like 
 Eleanor's voice." 
 
 " Is there nothing but voice ?" 
 " Oh yes, the woman using it besides." 
 " There are women, and women," I said, doubt- 
 fully, remembering Mrs. Newton's fierceness of 
 the preceding day. 
 
 I was struck by the sad, resolute look in Syl- 
 via's eyes, when a strong light cast the shadow of 
 her straight single arched brow on them ; she with- 
 drew to a curtained window, and sat alone. I 
 too got away from all risk from whispering. It 
 was long since I had heard good private singing, 
 and I was in the mood for an art which appeals 
 more directly to our soul, apart from reason, than 
 any other. Mrs. Newton's tenderness was at least 
 equal to her feminine ferocity; she sang with a 
 feeling which left taste no office. I could not
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 201 
 
 think, while her notes rose and fell like pulses 
 through my being. Clarice's singing gave me 
 vision, Mrs. Newton's emotion, yet there is some 
 altogether spiritual power in music, which purifies 
 while it renders more intense our nature, and 
 emotion and vision were apart from this human 
 life, even as music itself is, for it is altogether ob- 
 jective — to use the modem slang : we do not possess 
 it, we are possessed by it, and our brain and nerves 
 are its servants — not its lords, as with the other 
 arts. We voluntarily admire a statue or a pictui'e, 
 but we are held, whether we will or not, in the 
 chains of harmony which wmd their sweetness 
 round our actionless being. 
 
 I need not have feared the disturbance of 
 whispers; I should not have heard them after 
 a touch or two of Mrs. Newton's voice on my 
 brain ; but as it was, there was silence even 
 after she had done, broken by a little murmur 
 of approval from Dr. Hughes, the most anti- 
 pathetic of men to music. 
 
 I know not the words of the song, but the notes 
 spoke of vehement longing, and strangely excited
 
 202 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 me. I wished I could have sung them — it was a 
 pain to sit and listen inactively ; but better to do 
 that than go to the piano and utter thanks and 
 panegyrics on what was beyond praise, and not a 
 bounty, but an expression. 
 
 '^ You like music," said Mrs. Newton shortly 
 after, when I happened to be near her. 
 
 " Why do you say so ?" 
 
 " Because you didn't praise my singing." 
 
 " The thirsty man does not thinlc of the shape 
 of the cup from which he drinks." 
 
 ^' That is the most uncivil compliment ever paid, 
 but you are right, and therefore I said you liked 
 music." 
 
 " Did you wish me to praise your singing ? " 
 
 "No, but I should like to see you under its 
 effects." 
 
 "And am I not?" 
 
 " I have sung nothing worth much to-night. 
 Sylvia looked bored, and that disturbed me. I 
 sang for her, and she did not listen." 
 
 ^' All your other guests ^eemed enchanted — Dr. 
 Hughes for one."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 203 
 
 " And Lady Joanna probably ; but I always 
 sing for one or two, and they were not the one or 
 two." 
 
 "Shall I ever be one?" 
 
 " I think you will. Tell me, did ^Irs. Godwin 
 not sing ? " 
 
 " Yes, most perfectly." 
 
 " In spite of aU ? " 
 
 "What is aU?" 
 
 "Indeed I do not know. Colonel Godwin, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " I think you do not quite " I began 
 
 quickly, then I added — " Mrs. Godwin did 
 not in any way depend on circumstances ; the 
 sorrow of her life perhaps gave deeper pathos 
 to her singing, but could not mar it." 
 
 I felt more earnestly than I had done for long, 
 and my old reverence for the good in Clarice 
 was strong in me. 
 
 " I believe it really was so," said Mrs. Newton 
 thoughtfully, " and I see you appreciated her. 
 Do you know I am half-vexed with Sylvia, for 
 her indifference to all present feelings and in-
 
 204 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 terests ? I obstinately refuse to acknowledge the 
 right her Past has to monopolise her Present, and 
 yet her mother must have been worthy even of her 
 devotion. Sylvia lives in the shadow of memory, 
 which is brighter to her than all existing light." 
 
 " But you say she has not much surrounding 
 light." 
 
 " She is indifferent to any. Look at her listening 
 so languidly to Mr. Danby, -who is trying to 
 please, I know ; it 's the same about everything 
 and everybody. She tries to be so old." 
 
 '' Well, that is a great proof of youth." 
 
 " Not in her way of doing it : she lets so few 
 know her." 
 
 " Perhaps she is old," I said, remembering her 
 tired hand on the railway cushion. 
 
 " She has yet to be young, then." 
 
 "Talking music, eh?" asked Dr. Hughes, 
 amiably. " What a divine thing that canzonet 
 was, Mrs. Newton ! I wish you were in my choir : 
 Lady Joanna plays our new organ." 
 
 '^ Indeed ! but are you going so early ? Good- 
 night."
 
 GASTON BLI&H. 205 
 
 " Good-night and good-bye," I said ; " I fear I 
 shall not see you again." 
 
 "Why, Bligh?" exclaimed Mr. Newton, ^-I 
 was going to propose your joining us in a drive 
 to Greythorpe to-morrow. Miss Godwin has 
 not seen it, and there are good pictures in the 
 house." 
 
 "Unfortunately I am obliged to leave home 
 for a meeting in Bedfordshire to-morrow, but I 
 want Bligh to stay at Langham till my retuiTi," 
 observed Dr. Hughes. 
 
 " Well, you will come here for a day or two, 
 meantime?" 
 
 I murmured somethmg about reading, but 
 agreed easily to any arrangement that would 
 keep me in the neighbourhood of Newton Aylmer, 
 and so I found myself the following morning 
 a member of Mr. Newton's party, and an occupant 
 of the fourth seat in his britschka as we drove to 
 Greythorpe.
 
 206 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYL 
 
 "L'Esprit chagrin fait que Ton n'est jamais content de per- 
 sonne, et que Ton fait aux autres mille plaintes sans fonde- 
 ment." — La Brutere. 
 
 I BELIEYE Greythorpe was beautiful, and the day 
 was bright — Mr. Newton said so, I remember, but 
 I knew little of either. It is in our hours of 
 want that we think of circumstances — I wanted 
 nothing. Sylvia seemed happy too. We wan- 
 dered through glades brimming with sunshine ; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Newton toiled up a hill from which 
 it was said could be seen the sea, or rather the 
 reflection of it on the horizon ; we kept in the 
 valley — what need had I of distance? was there 
 not an unhorizoned heaven in Sylvia's eyes? 
 We sat down among plumes of fern m a wooded 
 dell ; I remember that, for she spoke of the
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 207 
 
 beauty of their shadow, more beautiful than 
 
 themselves. 
 
 "Yet that is not a popular thought," I said: 
 
 " shadows mean sorrows, generally." 
 " I was thinking of beauty, not of life." 
 ^' I fear I oftener think of life than of beauty ; 
 
 but why do you separate them?" 
 
 " My mother taught me what beauty was," 
 
 Sylvia said, with a sort of resolute calm which 
 
 always accompanied her mention of iVIrs. Godwin, 
 
 " and I do not see much of it in life." 
 
 I was disappointed; here was Sylvia putting 
 
 me back agam in the depreciation temper, out of 
 
 which I had been suddenly lifted. She went 
 
 on after a little pause, " but why do you not 
 
 contradict me ? " 
 
 " Did you wish to be contradicted ? " 
 " Yes, why did you not tell me I was wrong." 
 " Why did you say what you did not mean ?" 
 "I believe it is true, Ifeel it is not, that there is 
 
 little beauty in life." 
 
 " Then you, too, are at war with your behefs, 
 
 but who is not?"
 
 208 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " My mother was not." 
 
 I thought of Clarice's history. 
 
 " True," I said, " there must be shadows to 
 produce beauty, but light also." 
 
 " And that must be from above, must it not ? " 
 said Sylvia, with a far-off look in her eyes. 
 
 "Do you like to be contradicted?" I asked, 
 bringing our talk back to her. 
 
 " Yes, for I feel my books and thoughts often 
 lead me wrong. One wants human voices, and 
 not the ghosts of them, to encourage one." 
 
 " You are very fond of Mrs. Newton." 
 
 " Yery fond ; yes, Eleanor is the truest and best 
 of friends, but she thinks too well of me, and she 
 is prejudiced." 
 
 " That is to say, perhaps, she does not agree 
 with your prejudices." 
 
 "Possibly, but she does not make me give in 
 to hers?" 
 
 " Should you wish that ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Are you in earnest?" 
 
 "Perfectly."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 209 
 
 " Then why don't you give in?" 
 
 " Oh, I must be coerced: I don't care to follow: 
 I want to be driven." 
 
 I looked at her in utter amazement ; as my 
 thoughts of young ladies were mostly drawn from 
 novels, I fancied for a moment there must be some 
 arriere pensee in her unusual words ; but a glance 
 at her mouth, curved into a sad smile, and her eyes, 
 that did not shrink from mme, convinced me that 
 she had spoken sincerely. 
 
 I was vexed by her abstracted manner and 
 openness to me : I wished she would not be so 
 very quiet. 
 
 " Most people find themselves too much coerced ; 
 but to be sure the only daughter of a doating 
 father knows none of the conunon-place discipline 
 of life." 
 
 She felt my meaning, for there w\as quiet 
 haughtiness in her manner as she repKed. 
 
 " It is true I know little of it ; my father loves 
 me with all his heart." 
 
 Oh, angel, angel ! how I longed to retract the 
 sneering words I had said, but I had no oppor- 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 tunity that day. Mr. and Mrs. Newton rejoined 
 us, and told us of all they had seen from the 
 Sussex hill on which they had been. 
 
 Sylvia was more formal in her mamier as I 
 helped her into the carriage than she had been. 
 I did not feel myself inclined for the Newtons, 
 so I took an outside seat, and presently I began 
 to dream of the ineffable happiness of " coercing" 
 Sylvia at some future period. By the time we 
 were again at the village of Newton I had fore- 
 tasted many scenes in that process. 
 
 We stopped to pick up the afternoon post, which 
 contained a letter for. Sylvia. She took it nervously, 
 I fancied, but I returned to my visions, and had 
 hardly awaked from them when we drove to the 
 flower-framed house of Newton. Little Harold 
 stood on the threshold watching for our arrival, 
 and his sister stooped and kissed him, half turning 
 from me while I waited that she might go in first. 
 
 He looked scared, as he followed her to her 
 room tightly holding by her hand. 
 
 " A long letter from her father," said Mrs. » 
 Newton, half-aside to her husband.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 211 
 
 "Eh? no bad news?" 
 
 " Why, his bad is good, and his good is bad, 
 generallj." 
 
 "You always talk riddles, Eleanor. Well, T 
 must go out and speak to Mackay about the new 
 rhododendrons at Greythorpe." 
 
 " Colonel Godwin is the riddle," observed Mrs. 
 Newton to me, " but I won't begin again. Good- 
 bye till dinner, ]\Ir. Bligh." 
 
 When we re-assembled for that British duty, 
 I thought Sylvia looked paler than the fatigue of 
 her drive warranted; yet her brow was flushed, 
 and her eyes were half- sleepy, half-brilliant. Mrs. 
 Newton was grave, but very loving in her man- 
 ner — her husband silent and perplexed. We were 
 a constrained group, and not rendered less so 
 by Harold's observing that his sister's hand shook 
 as she put a chair for him close by her for dessert, 
 and asking why she drew it so close to her. 
 
 "This is a most extraordinary business," 
 observed Mr. Newton when the ladies had gone. 
 "It seems Colonel Godwin is utterly ruined." 
 
 "Ruined — how! why?" I exclaimed, with more 
 
 P 2-
 
 212 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 surprise than anxiety, for I instantly resolved 
 to give Sylvia everything I had in the world 
 without reflecting how. 
 
 "He has written a sort of vague announcement 
 to poor Miss Godwin that henceforward he must 
 work for their support, and indeed he half hints 
 at the possibility of arrest. It is an unaccount- 
 able affair to me, for I believe Westcote is settled, 
 and it is tolerably managed now, thanks to Martin, 
 and Miss Godwin, who keeps him in favour." 
 
 " Can't 1 do somethmg ? " 
 
 "Well I know so little as yet, and I believe 
 I oughtn't to have told you." 
 
 " I am my uncle's nearest relation," I said, a 
 
 little stiffly. 
 
 " All the more reason, my dear fellow. Mean- 
 
 tmie. Miss Godwin wouldn't have spoken, even 
 
 to me, but that her father enclosed a note for me, 
 
 asking me to see him next week in London. 
 
 She couldn't help giving it to me, poor thing — 
 
 and that entailed a sort of explanation." 
 
 " But if Westcote is settled," I said, with a little 
 
 pride, for her, " Harold and she are secure."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 213 
 
 " You see it was an arrangement made after 
 Colonel Godwin's marriage; it may not stand, if 
 he has got into debt. Miss Godwin does not think 
 of herself, but of her father and brother ; I w411 
 do what I can for her sake, but I wish Colonel 
 Godwin had asked some one else. Such a letter 
 as he has written, calling himself a ^ pauper on 
 the rack,' and I don't know what, to me, and he 
 scrawls so illegibly too ; what between blots and 
 dashes, I couldn't make head nor tail of it, till 
 Eleanor gave me a clue. Miss Godwin put hers 
 in the fire, I hear. Poor girl, if it 's true, she wall 
 have a drearier life than ever, I fear. But I beg 
 your pardon, Bligh, I oughtn't to discuss your 
 uncle and cousin's afi"airs so freely before you. 
 Only they are so very unlike everybody else. 
 She is a thorough good girl, and as patient as 
 Grissel. Indeed, I think sometimes she is a w^ee 
 bit cold-hearted — a touch of strong mindedness 
 about her. Now, you '11 see, I '11 take her out to tlie 
 conservatory, and she will admire my new 
 mandevilla, as if nothing was the matter." 
 
 I had let Newton run on without reply. I w^as
 
 214 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 not inclined to discuss Sylvia's affairs with him ; 
 besides, I was meditating a thousand schemes for 
 her relief from anxiety, all sufficiently romantic. 
 
 Mr. Newton marshalled us, as he had announced, 
 to the conservatory ; and, candle in hand, for it was 
 duskish, explained the history of his mande villa. 
 Sylvia listened to liim, as he had foretold, with 
 as much or as little interest as usual. 
 
 '' How is it ?" I asked of Mrs. Newton. 
 
 " I hardly know ; I fear she is worn out. In 
 trouble she is always calm, but she is indifferent 
 to-night. She has been talking to me about her 
 father's debts." 
 
 " Has she ? It is an embarrassing subject to 
 most." 
 
 ^' There is no surer sign of exhaustion, than 
 openness in reserved people." 
 
 « I thought not." 
 
 " It seems to put them beyond the fences of con- 
 ventionality ; they grow tired of seeming. They 
 do not show, but neither do they hide themselves." 
 
 " Yet you said Sylvia did not let even you know 
 of her home-life."
 
 GASTON ELIGH". 215 
 
 " Of its events, no ; for that might injure 
 others ; but I fear she does not care enough about 
 herself to be shy of expressing her own thoughts." 
 
 " It may be," I said, remembering that Sylvia 
 had spoken freely enough, even to me. 
 
 " Is she a person," I continued, " who would 
 suffer much personally fi'om poverty." 
 
 " Yes, I know no one who would suffer more 
 from the discomfort of it, or who would bear it 
 better. But her chief anxiety is for Harold: 
 that boy is the only speck of coloui' in her grey 
 life. I think she loves him more than if she were 
 his mother." 
 
 " How can that be ? " 
 
 " Oh, mothers have a sort of divine right in their 
 children, and their love may go to sleep. But 
 Sylvia's is dashed with anxiety, and therefore, if it 
 is not so deep, it is more intense. Poor darling, 
 she looks thoroughly tired, and Edward is worry- 
 ing her about his flowers, He doesn't understand 
 any feeling that does not break out in hysterics."
 
 216 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 " Come pud esser ch' io non sia piu mio ? 
 Chi m' ha tolto a me stesso, 
 Ch' a me fosse piu presso, 
 O in me potesse piu che non poss' io ? 
 Che cos 'e questo Amore ? " — Michelagnolo. 
 
 I SPENT half the night in planning to assist my 
 uncle, and went to sleep in a fever of success, 
 which awoke me earlier than usual next morning. 
 I dressed hurriedly, prepared to go by the next 
 train to London or to Westcote, as Sylvia should 
 advise. I could not wait in the house^ for the 
 chairs and tables got in my way, and the enthusi- 
 astic birds were companions better suited to my 
 mood than the flitting flapping housemaids who 
 pervaded the drawing-room. The morning was 
 softly bright, and I strolled to a path shaded 
 by evergreens and fringed with moss and fern. 
 A sort of dreamlight filtered through the leaves, 
 and gathered round Sylvia's figure, as she slowly
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 217 
 
 walked some distance before me. Her beauty 
 seemed to concentrate light, and all that sur- 
 rounded it fell into lines of harmonious framing. 
 I half turned away, not to break in upon her 
 thoughts, which I instinctively felt were sacred, 
 but she turned, and we were face to face. 
 
 Her hands had been clasped, her head some- 
 what raised ; but she mifolded them and looked 
 down after I joined her. I did not say a word of 
 my plans — I to advise her ! 
 
 " Have you seen Harold ? " she asked ; " he was 
 with me ten minutes ago : he will lose himself, and 
 be late for breakfast. We are early risers this 
 morning." 
 
 " I hope it was because you slept well. Oh, 
 Sylvia," I said, quickly, " can't I help you ? 
 can't I do something ? Newton told, me you were 
 uneasy. ^ I am sure I can do something." 
 
 " You are very kind, but," Sylvia began huskily, 
 " I know so little. No," she contmued, quietly, 
 " I fear nothing you could do would be of use." 
 
 " I can at least be your friend," I interrupted, 
 " you will not deny me that."
 
 218 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 She said nothing. I thought her silence ungra- 
 cious, and began more formally : 
 
 " It is true, I have little title to your friendship, 
 but " 
 
 "Pray do not misunderstand me, but I am 
 so circumstanced — Indeed you are very kind, 
 and my father will value your cordial sympathy, 
 I am sure." 
 
 Through the shrubs a faint scream came from 
 a childish, choking voice. 
 
 " Harold ! the pond ! " Sylvia said, hoarsely, 
 almost speechless with fear, but motioning me 
 vehemently on to a by-path. In a moment I had 
 reached the stone-edged pond in the garden, where 
 Harold had not ceased to struggle when I arrived. 
 In a second he was safe, very much frightened 
 but not otherwise hurt. I ran with him in my 
 arms to reassure Sylvia, who had not followed 
 me : she stood by a tree, to which she held in 
 a sort of despair. I cannot describe the look of 
 unutterable petrified grief on her countenance, 
 until she took the child in her arms, and felt the 
 tight pressure of his arms round her neck, and
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 219 
 
 the wild beating of liis heart, as he sobbed on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " He was not a moment under water," I said. 
 
 " Thanks, mj friend." She took my hand and 
 suddenly kissed it — my hand ! 
 
 I lifted Harold from her, for she trembled so 
 that she could hardly walk, indeed she needed 
 to lean heavily on my arm, as we went to the 
 house. 
 
 The child was put to bed and soon slept, while 
 Sylvia watched by liis side on her knees, Mrs. 
 Newton told me. She had looked in unobserved : 
 
 " I think you have saved Sylvia's life as well, 
 she is so bound up with Harry," she said to me. 
 " We aU owe you much, ^Ir. Bligh." 
 
 I know not if it were unpardonable egotism, but 
 suddenly I thought of the old feared memory of 
 my burning home, and its smoke that shut out 
 heaven ; but it cleared away, and instead of those 
 leaping flames and crashing ruins, came before 
 me the cool laurel walk, and Sylvia saying to me 
 " Friend," and, unbearable happiness, the quick 
 pressure of her lips on my hand. Oh, I was
 
 220 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 absolved by it. It seemed as if my hand were 
 no longer mine, but sanctified for lier use as long 
 'as its pulses sliould beat. 
 
 Just before luncheon, Mr. Newton came in; 
 and, with a slightly injured look, observed that 
 he had wanted to speak to Miss Godwin before 
 the early post went out, and she would not appear. 
 
 ^' I find Colonel Godwin expects an answer to 
 his letter, and I don't see my way. If he had asked 
 me to grow a blue dahlia, I 'd have done my best 
 for him ; but to meddle in his affairs just when he 
 tells me they are hopelessly entangled ! " 
 
 ^^ I imagine Sylvia has forgotten all about them," 
 said ]\Irs. Newton ; " she is thinking of nothing but 
 Harold." 
 
 " What 's the use, if he 's to be a beggar. But 
 how is the little fellow, Eleanor ? " 
 
 " All the better for his bath ; I never saw him 
 less fractious." 
 
 " I wish his father had one, if that 's the effect. 
 I hate the prospect of " 
 
 " Colonel Godwin ! " announced the servant, 
 throwing open the door, and admitting the afiec-
 
 GASTON ELIGH. 221 
 
 tionate wolf of my childisli recollections. Thinner, 
 yellow-whiter than ever, with eyes more parboiled, 
 grizzled eye-brows more drawn together. New- 
 ton was taken aback by the supplied conclusion to 
 his sentence, but my uncle's demonstrative greeting- 
 required little but acknowledgment. I was doubt- 
 ful of his pleasure in recognising me ; but he 
 shook my hand long and warmly, and said a great 
 many civil things ; which I am sure he meant, 
 though they were far from true. 
 
 " This is quite unexpected, I take it, my dear 
 Newton," he beo:an, turnincp to his host. " You 
 fancied I was farther north ; but the fact is I 
 couldn't stand my friend Mansergh's gloom, and 
 uneven spirits. I am one of those who like a 
 dinner of herbs, where love is, you know. I told 
 him how wrong his temper was, and, would you 
 believe it, he didn't mind me a bit ; not a bit, Mrs. 
 Newton. Gaston, my dear boy, you are indeed 
 all I ever hoped ; where is my adored Sylvia ? " 
 
 " I will tell her you are here. Colonel Godwin," 
 said Mrs. Newton, looking comically at me, as she 
 left the room. I think my uncle observed her, for 
 he continued stiffly :
 
 222 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I should not have intruded on you, Mr. New- 
 ton, but I could not pass your station without 
 seeing my angel-child." 
 
 " Are you going on to Westcote, then ; or will 
 you not stay the night with us ? " 
 
 "No, my dear sir, I am en route for a most 
 wonderful hydropathic establishment. I have 
 just escaped a fit of rheumatism, and for Sylvia's 
 sake I must not allow that to be added to my other 
 chronic ailments." 
 
 " But I fancied " began Mr. Newton, tho- 
 roughly puzzled. 
 
 " Oh, don't believe a word against the water- 
 cure. I expect, after a fortnight, to be a young 
 man again. By the way, Sylvia assures me you are 
 so very kind as to invite her to prolong her stay." 
 
 « Certainly, but I thought " 
 
 *^ Perfect relief from care, is one of the necessary 
 prescriptions." 
 
 " But my dear Colonel Godwin." 
 
 " My precious child, how are you ? " exclaimed 
 my uncle, as Sylvia came in. " Are you glad to 
 see your poor old father ? " he asked, holding her 
 from him in an ecstasy of parental admiration.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 223 
 
 She looked flushed, her manner was very tender 
 though undemonstrative. He seemed supremely 
 happy, and looked benignantly at each of us. 
 
 " Isn't it sad, my darling, that I must leave this 
 charming shelter, and your loved society ; but I 
 know you will be happy here." 
 
 Sylvia started. 
 
 *^ I shall be a fortnight at Dr. Drinkwater's ; 
 your poor father has had a threatening of rheuma- 
 tism, in that dreadful Mansergh Hall; but I'll 
 dance at your wedding yet ; and we must give a 
 proper welcome to our prodigal cousin, eh ? " said 
 he, offering his hand to me. 
 
 She grew pale. Her father's inconsistencies 
 alarmed her. 
 
 " We have had a fright this morning," said IMrs. 
 Newton, di'awmg her to a seat. " An escape and 
 a hero. Harry fell into the pond, and Mr. Bligh 
 picked him out.*" 
 
 " Just what I might expect of my dear nephew ; 
 and how is my darling son ? " 
 
 " All the better for his water-cure." 
 
 " What a delightful residence, Mrs. Newton ; I
 
 224 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 wish we had your taste at Westcote, but you 
 will teach my Sylvia. Sylvia, I shall never rest 
 till I alter the wmdows at home." 
 
 " At home, papa ? but you wrote " 
 
 " Oh yes, I believe I did — ^blue devils, sulks. 
 That fellow Mansergh is so fanciful ; I said I was 
 ruined, didn't I?" 
 
 " And we believed you, I assure you," said Mrs. 
 Newton. 
 
 Colonel Godwin immediately perceived he was 
 ridiculous. 
 
 "I had every reason to believe it," he said 
 gravely. " When I saw the working of Mansergh's 
 steam-plough, I could not but see that any farmer 
 not employing it, must be ultimately ruined. I 
 and my tenants must fall together. I wrote to ask 
 my friend Newton to meet me in London, and 
 advise me about one. I always pour out my 
 heart to my angel Sylvia, and who shall blame 
 me," he added, with dignity. " She knows how 
 I am robbed by that rascal Martin." 
 
 Sylvia looked sadder at the end, than at the 
 beginning of this explanation. Newton was tho-
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 225 
 
 roughly mystified. Nothing checked Colonel God- 
 win's flow of spirits, though he adopted his finest 
 manner to Mrs. Newton, and treated her with 
 grand loftiness ; he quite scared Harold, by telling 
 him I was the modern Curtius ; but he made me 
 happy, by pressing me warmly to go to Westcote 
 on his return thither, and so I listened without 
 ill-humour to his wonderful talk, for the most 
 part cast in the form of narrative, and more 
 like a translation from the GaeKc, than any speech 
 I ever heard. When an hour had passed, during 
 which the company seemed to live a year, he 
 went on his way, and the house appeared swept 
 and garnished when he had left it 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 226 GASTON BLiaH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYIII. 
 
 " Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, 
 No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt 
 In angel instincts, breathing Paradise." — Tennyson. 
 
 '' Now, darling, come and accompany me in that 
 ^Farewell' of Neukomm's," said Mrs. Newton 
 gaily to Sylvia. *' We were furrowed by a steam- 
 plough, harrowed by a new process; let's recover. 
 Mr. Bligh, you are the hero of the day; what 
 shall ■ I give you ? Sylvia, do come out of that 
 recess." 
 
 I knew Miss Godwin required rest from all 
 interruption. Mrs. Newton was quick to under- 
 stand my look of entreaty for her ; she sang at 
 once, glancing now and then, as I did, towards 
 Sylvia, whose head drooped lower and lower 
 on her tired hand. 
 
 " Poor, poor darling ! " whispered Mrs. Newton, 
 whose eyes filled with tears. " She suffers too
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 227 
 
 much : it is wrong to let her be so tormented : 
 she is sillj enough to love him after all, and she 
 never gets callous to his odd ways. I did think 
 his letter yesterday in earnest, however. Isn't 
 it sad to see her?" 
 
 " But her father seems devoted to her." 
 
 " And you saw how little he cared for Harold's 
 escape, and how wantonly he raised her anxiety 
 yesterday — and you call that devotion ? " 
 
 In her vehemence she raised her voice ; Sylvia 
 looked up, and said very gently — 
 
 " My father is devoted, dear Eleanor; you do not 
 understand hun, or me quite, for I am sure you 
 would not wish to pain me, by judging so harshly." 
 
 " Darling, I was wrong ; forgive me." And 
 Mrs. Newton stooped over the keys until I could 
 only see that a tear had fallen on her hand as she 
 softly played some chords. I think Sylvia knew 
 it too, for she came to the piano and leant lovingly 
 on her friend's shoulder, while she tui'ned over 
 the pages of a music-book. 
 
 "Who is up to a walk?" interrupted Newton, 
 coming in hastily ; " Mackay says he has found a 
 
 Q2
 
 228 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 plant of asplenium fontanum growing by Lang- 
 ham dyke, and I don't believe it. Miss Godwin, 
 I must have you to decide; it's not far: we'd 
 better secure it before the steam-plough gets into 
 the country, eh? " 
 
 " Sylvia and I can have the old pony — ride 
 and tie," suggested Mrs. Newton. 
 
 " Well, well ! only be quick ; I 'm sure Mackay's 
 wrong." 
 
 As the pony was fidgety, and Sylvia was not 
 an intrepid horsewoman, Mrs. Newton had the 
 honour of subduing his first fire, and I was her 
 squire, Newton and Sylvia following and talking 
 learnedly of aspleniums and aspidiums, in the 
 peculiar dialect which is, I suppose, a necessary 
 part of true fern-worship. When we were well 
 out of hearing, Mrs. Newton said — 
 
 '' Now, tell me, Mr. Bligh, what did you think 
 of this morning's comedy?" 
 
 " Tell me what to think." 
 
 " First, that Sylvia is an angel." 
 
 « Agreed." 
 
 " But also human, and that something must be 
 done."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 229 
 
 " Yes," I said, knowing myself what I should do. 
 
 " I think your mother might be a great comfort 
 to her." 
 
 This was not my thought, but I hastened to say — 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 " She is her only aunt, and Lady Joanna has 
 told me so much of Mrs. Bligh's kindness." 
 
 " My mother is very kind," I said mechanically. 
 
 " As your house is uninhabitable, she has not 
 had an opportunity of knowing her niece." 
 
 '' It is true." 
 
 "But Mrs. Bligh has promised to visit Lang- 
 ham Rectory this summer. Now, I want her to 
 come while Sylvia is here, and they could become 
 acquainted; an aunt could be of more real use 
 to her than I can, though I am so fond of her. 
 Help me, Mr. Bligh." 
 
 "You are a real friend at all events," I said 
 warmly, for this sort of cordial help and support 
 was a new thing to me. " My mother may be 
 of some use, but Colonel Godwin and she " 
 
 " Well, he can't be a satisfactory brother, but 
 I hear she is so good."
 
 230 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 ^^ People are so differently good," I said, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " But they all meet on the common ground 
 of kindlmess; any way we'll try; and now we 
 have a plot, Mr. Bligh, a conspiracy against that 
 dear Colonel; settle, somehow, that your mother 
 come to Langham while her. niece is here. Her 
 niece ! It sounds happier for my poor friend 
 already." 
 
 *' Hallo, Eleanor ! Is this what you call ride 
 and tie?" shouted Mr. Newton from the bottom 
 of a hill we had just come up with all the energy 
 of foregone conclusions. " You passed the dyke ; 
 come back and let Miss Godwin ride home." 
 
 "And the fern?" 
 
 "It's a stray plant of lanceolatiun, very im- 
 common so far south." 
 
 A party of acquaintances walked up just as 
 Sylvia was mounted ; the pony would not stand, 
 so we passed on, leaving our host involved in 
 friendship. 
 
 I twisted my fingers in the pony's mane, and 
 hoped my cousin was not tired.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 231 
 
 "I am a little, you and Eleanor got on so 
 vehemently." 
 
 " She is vehement," I said. " Her earnestness 
 is charming, so very womanly." 
 
 ^* Yes," replied Sylvia, rather sadly ; " she is a 
 great deal younger than I am." 
 
 " You are very tired," I said, softly, " and 
 have had too much to carry for your youth. To 
 do, not to suffer, is the fitting work for young 
 hearts." 
 
 She bent forward, and I saw a large di'op left 
 on the pony's bristling mane. 
 
 "Is not the appointed always the fitting work?" 
 she murmured. 
 
 "But do not neglect the corresponding truth, 
 that the appointed is also the fitting change." 
 
 " The appointed ! " she repeated to herself, but 
 she continued quickly, "Tell me more of this 
 morning's danger, Gaston : I want to know all you 
 did for Harry." 
 
 " May I not tell you what he did for me ? " 
 
 " If you mean that you earned my gratitude, it 
 is true, Gaston," she said, with a sort of forced
 
 232 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 frankness. "My father and I are ever indebted 
 to you." 
 
 " Indebted— is that all ?" 
 
 " If you value oui' friendship?" 
 
 " Youi's, Sylvia." 
 
 *^ "Well then, mine. Yes, Gaston, you have it," 
 she continued, with sudden energy, and giving 
 her hand to me. 
 
 I kissed her wrist between the glove and sleeve, 
 but my lips seemed to sting her, she drew her 
 hand back so quickly ; and for some unseen cause 
 the pony fell a plunging, while her colour rose 
 at his sudden fury, though when he was calm 
 again she was strangely pale. 
 
 " Are you afraid? Shall I lead him?" 
 
 " Yes please — oh no, I think I can manage him, 
 thank you ! Oughtn't we to wait for Eleanor ?" 
 
 There was a tone of entreaty in her voice new 
 to it, she was generally so calm. 
 
 " The mornuig's events have unnerved you," I 
 said gently ; and then I exerted myself to speak of 
 books and Oxford, when I remembered that we 
 were in August, and that I should probably lose
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 233 
 
 my hoped-for first-class, if I idled at tliis rate, but 
 I said nothing of this. 
 
 " As well as I remember, there was not a good 
 library at Westcote," I observed : " how is it that 
 you know so much of books?" 
 
 " I have bought a few to please myself" 
 
 " Then it was not idleness that made you read?" 
 
 " What is idleness ? But my mother wished me 
 always to read what I found hard to understand, 
 and to write down my difficulties in hopes of 
 solving them. She said one must train oneself for 
 life, or break down perhaps at the first strong 
 trial." 
 
 Sylvia always quoted her mother's words as if 
 they were a final authority which could not be 
 gainsaid. 
 
 " And have you done so ? " I inquired. 
 
 " I have tried," she said, looking with half- 
 surprise at me. 
 
 " Then your mother's least wishes are sacred to 
 you?" I asked. 
 
 She turned away so that I could not see her 
 expression as she replied, in a firm low voice —
 
 234 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " Mj mother's wishes have been, and will be, 
 sacred to me." 
 
 " She was very kind to me." 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " What do you remember ? " I asked, without 
 daring to look up. 
 
 " I thuik she would wish us to be friends, Gaston." 
 
 " Well, that is something." 
 
 " And Harold, by all the laws of romance, must 
 be devoted to you." 
 
 "By all the laws of omens, he is to do me 
 some great injury." 
 
 "He is five years old: in one way you are 
 not likely to clash," she said, gaily. 
 
 "No, in one way I think not," I repeated to 
 myself. 
 
 " Look, there are Dr. Hughes and Lady Joanna 
 coming out of Newton-gate : Eleanor will just miss 
 them." 
 
 " Will she grieve ? I fancy them very antago- 
 nistic." 
 
 " Hush ! We are returning from fern-himting. 
 Lady Joanna ; Mrs. Newton is not far, I think."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 235 
 
 Dr. Hughes gave me some letters, wliicli had 
 been addressed to Langham Rectory. 
 
 " I see there is one from !Mrs. BKgh," said 
 Lady Joanna. ^* I hope it confirms her promise 
 which I received this morning of passing a short 
 time with iis." 
 
 " Yes, I • see that she is much pleased at the 
 prospect : she appears disappointed m the west of 
 Ireland." 
 
 " Really ! It must be most interesting, I should 
 have thought. The movement " 
 
 "Is more interesting when described by Dr. 
 Hughes, than seen by the naked eye. But 
 when does my mother hope to join you?" I asked, 
 thinking of ]Mrs. Newton's plans. 
 
 " Next week, I hope ; IMrs. Smith goes on to 
 Scotland, where Ulrica meets her. But Mrs. 
 Bligh is good enough to prefer Langham to the 
 Highlands. You will join her, I hope." 
 
 " I ought to read." 
 
 " My library is at your orders," remarked Dr. 
 Hughes pleasantly. " Have you seen Lord de 
 Boville's speech in to-day's paper ? Exceedingly
 
 236 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 promising young man, your cousin ; keen remark 
 that of liis, on opening the universities." 
 
 " I haven't seen the report ; he can't have found 
 anytliing new to say." 
 
 " Hem — it is new to me ; he says the increase of 
 rich dissenters will make it impossible for younger 
 sons of noblemen, to maintain their position. His 
 party must give him something." 
 
 " Poor thing, must it ? " 
 
 " Oh, you are bitter, eh, Bligh ? My dear boy, 
 succeed first yourself." 
 
 " I tliink I shall, sir." 
 
 The good man looked surprised. I heard him 
 say, as he drove away — 
 
 *' That boy is greatly changed." 
 
 Sylvia and I passed on, and reached the house 
 without having spoken farther.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords 
 with might : 
 Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out 
 of sight." — Tenxyson. 
 
 " Bligh, I want to show you a liorse ; I 'm offered, 
 I think, a bargain. The ladies are going to their 
 orgies m the schoolroom." 
 
 " I am sui'e you like J:ea," said Mrs. Newton, 
 pointing to the schooh'oom door, which stood 
 half-open, disclosing an array of picturesque 
 loaves and pretty china, and Sylvia filling the 
 children's cups with mifik. 
 
 *' Yes, I like tea, Newton ; can't I see your horse 
 in half an hour ? " 
 
 "Well, don't intoxicate yourself — I can't bear 
 the sight of tea at this hour." 
 
 " All right, Sylvia. I knew Mr. Bligh was of 
 the true faith ; Minnie, let Mr. Bligh sit there ; 
 no, I see Harry must have you near him. Isn't
 
 238 GASTON BLiaH. 
 
 he flourishing? spite of water-cure, and steam- 
 plough, and everything. I think you are Cor- 
 nelius Agrippa, Mr. Bligh ; I talk to you at 
 Langham Dyke of a troublesome negotiation, 
 and before I get home, I find it concluded." 
 
 " Are you great King Agrippa ? " asked little 
 Mary, opening her eyes on me. 
 
 " Oh no, he had a red gown ! " replied Harold, 
 reprovingly. 
 
 " I heard from my mother," I said ; " she comes 
 to the Rectory next week." 
 
 " And you stay here till then ? " 
 
 " Do stay," pleaded Harry. 
 
 " You are very kind ; but I ought to be at work 
 somewhere." 
 
 " Work ! why we are Avorking. If you want 
 to do coming-of-age things, you can go home 
 every day, and return for dinner." 
 
 ^^ I ought to read." 
 
 " Well you shall read ' My Novel,' and take 
 a degree in * English life.' There 's Ned talking 
 to his familiar ; I 'm sure Mackay was at the 
 building of Pandemonium ; his plants ^ rise like
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 239 
 
 an exhalation.' Ned, Mr. Bligh wants to go 
 away." 
 
 " Tlie leaf-stalk wasn't winged, Mackav. Bligh, 
 we have nothing to tempt you, but I wish you 'd 
 make this your head-quarters, if you have busi- 
 ness at Ashhurst — it 's clearly lanceolatum." 
 
 ^^ My dear Filix Mas, will you lift up the 
 sash with one of your fronds ? " and Mrs. Newton 
 stepped out through the low window. 
 
 "Shall I stay, Sylvia?" 
 
 " Are you not impatient to read ? " 
 
 " Yes, but hmnanity, not the humanities." 
 
 " Dear Harry, let iVIinnie sit straight. But will 
 not ]Mrs. Bligh be disappointed ? " 
 
 "Shall I stay, Sylvia?" 
 
 " You say you would like to stay," she rephed 
 reasonably, " and Mrs. Newton wishes it. Your 
 mother will be glad to find you m this neighbour- 
 hood." 
 
 " Should you like to know her ? " 
 
 Sylvia hesitated for a second, then she said 
 coldly — 
 
 " Mamma would have said, yes."
 
 240 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I understand/' I said, bitterly. " My mother 
 forgave yours, and yours forgave mine for doing 
 so, but you cannot, nor can I." 
 
 " Dear Gaston, we must not discuss our mothers' 
 feelings, only their wishes ; I think mamma would 
 have wished Aunt Bligh to know me." 
 
 *' Then I will stay, and introduce her to you." 
 
 " So you will stay," interposed Mrs Newton. 
 " Ned, we might have spared ourselves the pains 
 of reviewing our inducements. Filial considera- 
 tions have influenced you, I know, Mr. Bligh." 
 
 " I knew not what Mrs. Newton had imparted 
 to ' Ned,' " but he looked mysteriously content for 
 a minute, and then steamed ofiP to his gardens. 
 
 When I turned to Sylvia again, she was very 
 cold and quiet ; Mrs. Newton glanced at her and 
 me. 
 
 " Are you too tired to go out again, Sylvia ? " 
 she asked; "but I see you are.** 
 
 "It has been a full day, I said." 
 
 " I am not tired, but I will draw until dinner- 
 time : I want to finish Harold's book." 
 
 Her manner seemed to me haughty, almost
 
 GASTON BLI&H. 241 
 
 ungracious. I tried to catch her eye, but when I 
 did, she looked at me so straightlv, so indifferently, 
 that my heart rebelled against her. 
 
 I did not loiter long in the schooh'oom, but 
 went out, until I found myself at the spot where I 
 had in the morning restored Harold to her : I leant 
 against the tree that had supported her. I acted 
 the scene again in thought, with lingering inves- 
 tigation of her least word or action ; but the 
 admitted friendsliip I thought so valuable in the 
 morning now was cast behind me, as a grievance, 
 not a gain. I was restless and dissatisfied; and, 
 with odd perversity, as I became more conscious of 
 my need of Sylvia's kindness, another " I " in me 
 strove to break the fast involving chain, impelled 
 me to leave Newton, roused all pride of scholarship, 
 all ambition, and, fighting with love, persuaded me 
 that I was not in love. 
 
 But the beauty of all surrounding circumstance, 
 the unacknowledged influence of the evening 
 sounds, and lights, and perfume, gradually filled 
 me with life. I ceased to think, and gave myself 
 up to reception of their sweet influences. 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 242 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 How new it was for me not to think ! I saun- 
 tered up and down with an idle brain, but a 
 throbbing heart, and grievances and restlessness 
 vanished. I ceased to deny that I was in love ; 
 possibilities no longer troubled me. Strong feeling 
 is absolute, and has no relation with events ; they 
 seem immaterial in the presence of passion, and 
 this was subtlest, strongest passion, absorbing 
 and therefore unacknowledged, which stopped all 
 lirainwork, and swamped thought in emotion. 
 
 And when the tide, by necessary reaction, re- 
 treated, and one by one the landmarks of daily 
 life appeared again, they wore no longer the same 
 aspect. The angry thoughts I had written on the 
 sands of my memory were obliterated ; my selfish 
 fancies no longer broke stormily against Sylvia, 
 but I longed now to bring all I had of good, 
 and lay it gently at her feet, seeking for no retui'n. 
 
 I went back to the house, humbled and quieted, 
 only desiring to wait on Sylvia's pleasure for a 
 kind word or look, to serve her, if I could ; to be 
 her friend and do her will. 
 
 This was love : Eros had conquered.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 243 
 
 I found Mrs. Newton near the porch — she 
 carried a basket of flowers. 
 
 "I have been getting some Tom Thmnbs; 
 these scarlet geraniums — don't you think they 
 will look well in Sylvia's hair ? " 
 
 " They will look well, no doubt, but they are 
 not suitable — single, one- coloured flowers!" 
 
 " Well, you shall o-et her somethincp better. I 
 don't quite understand your suitabilities." 
 
 ^^May I cut some Devoniensis roses?" 
 
 " Oh, you are right ! It is the right flower for 
 her." 
 
 " It was her mother's favourite." 
 
 " Always her mother : was she like a Devoni- 
 ensis too ? " 
 
 *^ Yes ; like one in a hothouse, of which the life 
 and love is too much for its strength." 
 
 *^ Sylvia has the germs of over-life in her, too, 
 I fear ; but we shall be late. Will you send the 
 roses to her room, when you have got them ? I 
 must go and dress." 
 
 I met the gardener near the orchid-house, 
 against an outer wall of which grew luxuriantly 
 
 R 2
 
 244 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 the rose I wanted. He lent me his knife, and 
 observed that it would relieve the plant to cut 
 its flowers freely. 
 
 " Indeed I must remove it to another wall and 
 fresh soil, sir; shall I cut you some sprigs of 
 euphorbia, to mix with them — to give them 
 strength, like, for a bouquet?" 
 
 *' No — no, thank you." 
 
 " Well, sir, you have good taste ; a tea rose 
 ought never to be joined with other flowers: the 
 perfume is lost, or rather the aroma, sir." 
 
 " Very true. Good evening, Mr. Mackay." 
 
 "They are suitable!" whispered Mrs. Newton 
 to me, when Syhaa came down before dinner, 
 with my roses in her hair. 
 
 A thought touched my heart with ice, but I 
 would not give it utterance. 
 
 " How kind of you, Eleanor ! " began Miss 
 Godwin. 
 
 " It was not I, darling ; Mr. Bligh and Mac- 
 kay, I believe." 
 
 Sylvia turned to me very frankly and cordially. 
 I almost wished for her afternoon reserve instead.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 245 
 
 " How you must have robbed for me, Gaston ! " 
 
 " Mr. Mackay wanted me to get some strength- 
 ening sprigs of euphorbia, to make the flowers 
 hold their heads up." 
 
 ^* Well, Margaret had some trouble trying to 
 arrange them; but I told her, on no account 
 to interfere with them, but to let them droop 
 at wHl." 
 
 " Do you think your roses desired coercion from 
 Margaret ? " I asked, later in the evening. 
 
 " They did not need it." 
 
 " But perhaps they thought they did ?" 
 
 "They are too perfect to tliink — they only 
 exist." 
 
 " Do you know why I ask ? I have been 
 wondering at your longing to be controlled. 
 I suppose it is womanly — I cannot sympathize 
 with it." 
 
 '^I am farther fi'om youth than you are, both 
 in fact and feeling." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Am I not ? " 
 
 "What is youth, Sylvia?"
 
 246 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " The period of self-confidence." 
 
 " Don't you think self-confidence wicked ; good 
 people generally do." 
 
 " It is a state, not a wickedness." 
 
 " And when it and youth have gone, what 
 follows?" 
 
 " Then it se6ms to me action begins; before was 
 effort and growth." 
 
 " But," said I, impressed by the earnest quiet of 
 her words, unspoiled by one strain of self; " may 
 we not still be confident in action?" 
 
 '' We have confidence in God," she said, w^ith 
 low, slightly tremulous voice. 
 
 "And those who have not?" I persisted, for 
 I wanted to sound the depth of her idea. 
 
 " Dear Gaston, we can only fear for them — they 
 drift." 
 
 " But with this faith of yours, why do you 
 wish other control?" 
 
 " I am so weak ; yet I know my faith is 
 right. Why do you remember my impatience 
 and unbelief? Is it to begin our friendship with 
 rebuke?"
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 247 
 
 " Rebuke ! Sylvia you must tell me more of 
 tliis faith." 
 
 She looked down, but I saw the crimson tincre 
 of her cheek, when she said softly — 
 
 "It is more feelino; than thoucrht. I cannot 
 speak of it." 
 
 " Then you think you fail in faith when you 
 long for human control ? " 
 
 " I hardly know. I fear so." 
 
 " I do not think so." 
 
 " Don't you think there can be idolatry of 
 authority ? " 
 
 " AVhen the authority is false ; but obedience 
 is beautiful in women." 
 
 " Miss Godwin," interrupted our host, " I want 
 you to play something, and Eleanor says you 
 are tu'ed." 
 
 « Hush, Ned ! Will it bore you, Sylvia ?" 
 
 "Being tired is just a reason for music," said 
 Sylvia, opening the piano. 
 
 "ShaU I light candles?" 
 
 " No, thanks ; not for the ' Sonate Pathetique.' " 
 
 The perfect music seemed to harmonize with
 
 248 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 our conversation, but in a language unmarred 
 by words or imperfect accent. My love for 
 Sylvia burned purer and brighter. 
 
 I had not received music before from Sylvia. 
 It seemed to me very good; but in listening 
 to completed harmony, we are ever more im- 
 pressed by the composer than by the inter- 
 preter, particularly w^hen the composer is a 
 great master. 
 
 " Is not that perfect ? " asked Mrs. Newton, as 
 Beethoven broke into restless emotion in the last 
 movement. 
 
 "Yes, too perfect. It is all music." 
 
 ''I know, it is not human enough for you. 
 You want Sylvia, not Beethoven." 
 
 " You have insight," I said quickly. 
 
 " What have you been talking of, that she 
 should play that?" 
 
 " Of faith and obedience." 
 
 " Sylvia, that senate is too complete. Will 
 you play your Dream which you improvised the 
 other day?" 
 
 " I have forgotten it."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 249 
 
 " Ah, its theme was hardly obedience," whispered 
 iVIrs. Newton. Now she is playing a noctome of 
 Chopin's. It will be shot with her — to use a 
 milliner's phrase. And so it was, and I was sure 
 now of Sylvia's suffering, for all her strength and 
 calm; and of her strength, notwithstanding the 
 constant pain of her unfulfilled heart. 
 
 I walked to a window to be alone, and looked 
 out on the moon blurred with cloud, till I could 
 hardly bear the weight of inaction. I longed to 
 change all this, but could I ? Yes I would — God 
 help me. I was yoimg. Faith and obedience ! 
 how needless they seemed to me — for what has 
 Passion to do with them ? — yet how I failed 
 without them ! 
 
 Meantime, Sylvia's utterances, not Chopin's, 
 flowed and flowed upon my heart, until I was 
 unconscious of all else but her. The inmost 
 Sylvia, so quiet, yet so struggling; so full of 
 faith, yet so tried by its short-coming ; so obedient, 
 yet so at war with self; so loving, yet with so 
 little to love ; so gentle and soft, yet without a 
 kindly atmosphere, wherein to exercise these
 
 250 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 crowning perfections ; above all, so womanly, 
 yet unmated. I hardly knew the music had 
 ceased, when I heard Mrs. Newton say — 
 
 -^ No, I won't sing after that, darling ; I have not 
 the heart." 
 
 ^^ Well, here 's tea. Have you the heart for a 
 rubber after that ? " asked Mr. Newton. 
 
 And so we finished the evening. 
 
 ^' Mr. Bligh, I wish you had more faith in your 
 partner, and obedience to the rule of returning my 
 lead," said Mrs. Newton, when we left off. " You 
 are a capital player, Sylvia; where have you 
 practised?" 
 
 " Papa likes a rubber sometimes." 
 
 " That reason explains the anomaly of your 
 playing whist, and a good many others," said Mrs. 
 Newton.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " On confie son secret dans I'amitie, mais il echappe dans 
 ramour." — La Bkutere. 
 
 I DID not think, as I paced up and down my room 
 that night, that a week hence I should be farther 
 from definite hope or plan than I was then ; but 
 so it was. The week had seemed an hour, a flash, 
 and yet I had meant to do so much in its course, 
 to gain insight of Sylvia's heart and nature — if she 
 would listen, to explain her mine. To lift some 
 weight of life from her tired hands — to offer mv 
 devotion as a shield. All this I found I had 
 hoped, from the pain of incompletion, which 
 assailed me when the eve of our severance came. 
 Nothing spoken — nothing done; I had dreamt 
 away the hours. Sylvia too, how she avoided all 
 personal discussion — she never spoke of herself! 
 only of good, and truth, and beauty, her ministers.
 
 252 GASTON BLias. 
 
 She had shown me new worlds of life, and interests 
 I knew nothing of; and she moved, the guardian of 
 those worlds, unapproachable by me. 
 
 She listened and was interested, when once or 
 twice I spoke of myself, and would have had me 
 say more, and tell her of my aspirations. But I had 
 none : all my past seemed so empty, I had nothing 
 to say of it, and I could not give her the key to its 
 tangles and evils. Yes"; as I felt I loved her — as to 
 gain her affection became the sole hope of my life — 
 the old child-shadow gathered darkness. As I 
 saw her character unfold, I ventured less and less 
 to approach her. I could not offer her truth, and 
 yet preserve a concealed heart, and my whole 
 strength recoiled from full confession of what 
 would seem either crime or such strange madness. 
 
 Sometimes she was so haughty and cold, that in 
 despair I felt half-tempted to tell her all, and leave 
 her. Then again she appeared to value our agreed 
 friendship, and consulted me in some details of her 
 parish good works, and seemed so interested in my 
 home and future, that I would have borne the pain 
 of a hundred crimes and falsehoods sooner than 
 risk the loss of her regard.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 253 
 
 One truth this week had taught me : I knew 
 that I loved — I no longer slept in Paraolise. With 
 the knowledge came doubts and anxieties ; but 
 through them all shone such sweet glimpses of a 
 possible future, when Syhda should be mine, to 
 guard and love, and worship without hindi'ance, 
 that they were but delicious pain. 
 
 Meantime the eve of my mother's arrival at 
 Langham, and my promised ^^isit there, had come, 
 and though it was but a t^'o-mile walk between 
 the Rectory and Newton, still all change is intole- 
 rable in the first week of love. It seems the 
 harbinger of some of those inevitable reverses 
 which, even in our most hopeful moments, we 
 feel are not far off from every one of us. 
 
 Before I went, I would know more of Syh^ia's 
 heart. I would break through the elastic fence 
 of friendship ; I would earn coldness or love. 
 We must be strangers, or more than friends. 
 But morning came, bringing with it the thou- 
 sand incongruities between daily life and nightly 
 resolves — between action and intention. 
 
 Sylvia was very silent during breakfast. Mr. 
 Newton's plans for flowering a new Sikkim
 
 254 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 rhododendron had been broken np by some 
 *' worm i' the bud," and Mrs. Newton was absorbed 
 in wifely soothing. 
 
 " By the by, you leave us to-day, for Langham, 
 Mr. Bligh," observed Mrs. Newton. " Will you 
 tell Lady Joanna I have a hundred things to say to 
 her — and I must find her at home to-morrow 
 morning, and perhaps I may have the pleasure of 
 making Mrs. Bligh's acquaintance : you will like 
 that too, Sylvia?" 
 
 " Oh yes, very much," Miss Godwin replied 
 coldly. 
 
 I suddenly resented her maimer, and said 
 something formally polite. 
 
 " You are odd people," said Mrs. Newton, rising 
 with a quaint, hopeless air. " Sylvia, Harold says 
 you left him without his flowers, for the first time 
 last night, he is a little ailing this morning, I 
 think ; have you seen him ? " 
 
 Sylvia flushed scarlet, and left the room hastily. 
 
 " I think Harry is jealous of you, Mr. Bligh : 
 he lays Sylvia's neglect at yom' door." 
 
 " I thought children were better observers than 
 that " I said.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 255 
 
 " He is quick, at all events — all the more for 
 his half-health ; and Sylvia almost spoils him, by 
 her devotion. I think he only laughs heartily 
 with her, with us all he is a little shy — a 
 misanthropist; have you ever seen them have a 
 romp together?" 
 
 " Xo, I shouldn't have thought Miss Godwin 
 ever unbent enough for a romp." 
 
 " You don't half know her : she has sometimes 
 the wildest spirits. Unbend ! Sylvia is never 
 bent," continued ]\Irs. Newton reproachfully ; " I 
 think you two don't do together, how is it ? " 
 
 " Apparently not ; so Harold thinks, it seems, 
 since Sylvia is so different from her usual self 
 when I am by." 
 
 " Some day," said Mr. Newton, pliilosophically, 
 '' you will be good cousins, I am sure." 
 
 " But I 's so wicked." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you are," said Mrs. Newton, 
 " but that is just why — " and we separated. 
 
 Newton left me a leader in the Times to read, in 
 that compulsor}^ way some of the kindest souls in 
 the world use, when they mean to be very con- 
 siderate, telling their victim to have the subject
 
 256 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 ready for discussion when they return again. It 
 was a foreign article^ and set forth why two 
 or three emperors and as many kings were 
 threatened with the Olympian wrath of the 
 English press. I tried to read, and interest 
 myself in the fate of Europe, and " not to be a 
 fool," in vain. 
 
 I found I wanted a book in the drawing-room, 
 then a paper-cutter in Mrs. Newton's boudoir, 
 to which she had given me access. These articles 
 not found, I stood irresolute at the foot of the 
 stairs, and hearing Harry's voice above, I went up 
 them, and so passed the schoolroom. 
 
 " Go away, Sylvia ; I can do very well alone. 
 I want to go home, and I hate Gaston." 
 
 " Hush, Harry ! he is your cousin, you know, 
 and I think he is very kind to you : he saved your 
 life." 
 
 " That was no trouble to him, and besides you 
 called him your fi'iend." 
 
 " And so he is, Harry." 
 
 " Do people like friends better than cousins, 
 Sylvia?" 
 
 " Not always, darling."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 257 
 
 " Then you '11 never like liim better than me, 
 for I 'm your brother ? " 
 
 A pause followed, then Sylvia said, in a low 
 voice : 
 
 "No, Harry." 
 
 I went to the drawing-room, and wrote a few 
 lines of adieu to Mrs. Newton who was not there, 
 intending to walk over to Langham immediately. 
 That done, I took my hat, and left the house, 
 but the fancy seized me to look in once more 
 at the conservatory, which adjoined the veranda. 
 
 Sylvia was standing there, looking down into 
 the tank for aquatic plants, which was fringed by 
 a jungle of ferns, through which a fountain cast 
 murmuring spray. 
 
 I stealthily crept to her side, that I might 
 see what absorbed her attention. A white butter- 
 fly rested on the edge of a water-lily leaf, and 
 every now and then bent down her antennae to 
 test the truth of the reflections of the upper world, 
 and then, drawing back, stood imresolved on the 
 tremulous leaf with expanded, throbbing wings. 
 
 Sylvia watched this Psyche as if it were an 
 
 VOL. T. s
 
 258 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 omen; and very suggestive was its glimmering 
 white-fire life on the calm leaf, ready for flight, 
 yet intoxicated by the beautiful depths. Long- 
 ing, yet fearing to greet its new-found double soul, 
 its counterpart, dimly seen, yet idealized in the 
 enchantment of the soft unearthly reflections of 
 dream-land light and shade. 
 
 I laid my hand on Sylvia's shoulder — a simple, 
 cousinly act. She started and turned away. 
 I fancied she shivered, but not from cold, for 
 I saw her crimsoned cheek as she stooped and 
 buried her face in a tuft of fern. 
 
 " I startled you, Sylvia." 
 
 " Yes — no — yes ; Mr. Newton asked me to cut 
 some flowers for Lady Joanna, would you ask 
 Mackay for his knife, he is in the orchid house ? " 
 
 I went and did her bidding without question, 
 for she was imperious; I was not long absent, 
 but when I came back she was not there, and- 
 the Psyche had flown away. I did not leave 
 Newton until the evening, but Sylvia only 
 appeared at luncheon, pleading a headache when 
 Mrs. Newton accused her of pale looks.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " Lore is Lord of Truth and Loyalty, 
 Lifting himself ont of the lowly dust 
 
 On golden plumes up to the purest sky 
 
 * ♦ * * * 
 
 What heavens of joy then to himself he feigns ! 
 Eftsoones he wipes quite out of memory 
 Whatever ill before he did aby." — Spenseb. 
 
 The handsome plate and handsome platitudes of 
 Dr. Hughes' dinner sent my thoughts back, by 
 force of contrast, to the flowers and freedom of 
 Newton. Mj mother was affectionate and con- 
 siderate as I had never before known her to me. 
 Responsibility on my behalf was lessened by my 
 accomplished majority. To love and approve 
 were no longer weaknesses. Her heart need no 
 longer be kept cool and dark, as you would a 
 powder magazine, lest any spark of feeling should 
 ignite it to my injury; I too was softened — I 
 
 S 2
 
 260 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 was less an egotist, less ready to resent. The 
 spring of lifetime had come, there was love enough 
 for all life, whether cypress or Devoniensis rose. 
 
 Lady Joanna was so good a soul. Dr. Hughes 
 so kindly, that ill-tempers could not flourish in 
 their home. We talked of Pau and its experiences, 
 and of the Smiths ; and my mother was gay, as 
 if she had never known self-distrust. But I only 
 longed the more for Newton. The smoothness 
 of our Langham party increased my fever — just 
 as formal gardens would make one suffer more 
 for loss of Paradise. 
 
 " I thought poor Mr. Smith very ill, though 
 Cicely did not perceive it," said my mother. 
 
 " She is so strong and well herself," observed 
 Lady Joanna. " What a charming girl Ulrica 
 
 is 
 
 t" 
 
 " So natural," said my mother, a little ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " A handsome creature," observed Dr. Hughes, 
 in something of the tone he would have said, 
 '^A handsome leopard." 
 
 " She is much admired ; the colour of her
 
 • GASTON BLIGH. 261 
 
 hair is considered unique. There is a gold-green 
 shade through it that Thorburn admires so much, 
 he has painted it as a study for himself." 
 
 " It sounds rather Mermaidish," I remarked. 
 
 "Dear Gaston, how can you know?" replied 
 my mother, hastily. 
 
 " It will be shaded with gold enough," said 
 Dr. Hughes, " and make others green enough." 
 
 " Poor girl, I think too much fortune is almost 
 a danger," said Lady Joanna. 
 
 "Oh, Ulrica has so much good sense, and 
 Cicely is so very high-minded." 
 
 " What has become of the Owyte Lawes ? " 
 
 " They are separated. His conduct was quite 
 admirable. Cicely thinks her much to blame, 
 she should have been more self-denying." 
 
 "Poor little woman! He had a frightful 
 temper, and played high." 
 
 " She should have borne everything," said my 
 mother, decisively. 
 
 " Did I teU you," I asked Lady Joanna, " that 
 Mrs, Newton means to di'ive over to-morrow on 
 pressing business ; or at least what seems so to her ? " 
 
 " I am so glad ! I hope she will bring your nice
 
 262 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 cousin. Miss Godwin. Is she not your niece, Mrs. 
 Bligh?" 
 
 " Yes, it is long since I had an opportunity of 
 seeing her, I have been such a foreigner." 
 
 My mother's uneasy manner did not comfort me 
 for the morrow's greeting. I said, as indifferently 
 as I could — 
 
 " The Newtons are charming people, and you 
 will like Miss Godwin, I fancy, mother." 
 
 " Oh, I am sui'e I shall ; " which sounded like 
 " I am sure I shan't." 
 
 I strolled restlessly about, the following morn- 
 ing, not knowing at what hour the Newton 
 party might come ; at last I heard the wished-for 
 carriage-wheels. I felt a sudden reticence, and 
 turned away, until I could go in quietly and look 
 a second at my Sylvia before she saw me. 
 
 But she was not there ; only Mrs. Newton, and 
 Lady Joanna and my mother. 
 
 "Colonel Godwin breakfasted with us this 
 morning, and took her away by the next train," 
 I heard Mrs. Newton say. I could not have been 
 more disappointed if I had been told she were 
 gone to the antipodes.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 263 
 
 " I am so sorry to lose the opportunity," said my 
 mother, graciously. 
 
 " But Colonel Godwin entrusted me with this 
 letter for you," continued IVIrs. Newton: my mother 
 shrank again. 
 
 Mrs. Newton looked at me with comical despair. 
 She drew Lady Joanna aside, and, besides trans- 
 acting some of the "pressing business" that brought 
 her, I think she made her a fellow-conspirator 
 in the plot for Sylvia's introduction to her 
 aunt. 
 
 "Your uncle wishes us to go to Westcote on 
 
 Tuesday week, Gaston, but I really fear " 
 
 began my mother, handing me Colonel Godwin's 
 letter. It was a short note, but a very warmly 
 expressed invitation. 
 
 I stammered some unintelligible words of 
 "family ties" — I know not what. 
 
 " If you think it right ? " said my mother. I ! 
 but true I was twenty-one. 
 
 I disclaimed all opinion, and fidgeted away to 
 Mrs. Newton's neighbourhood. 
 
 "Hydropathy is exploded," she said gently to
 
 264 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 me. " Be prepared for steam-ploughs ; but go in 
 any case, won't you ? " 
 
 "Shall we?" 
 
 *' Of course, did not Orlando invest Albracca. 
 Seriously, Colonel Godwin was really charming 
 this morning." 
 
 " But on Tuesday week?" 
 
 " He will be a Crichton-Coligny." 
 
 " And Tuesday fortnight ? " 
 
 " Sylvia will be the same that she is now, what- 
 ever." 
 
 " We hoped for a fortnight," said Lady Joanna 
 in the evening " but we must not be selfish, dear 
 Mrs. Bligh ; and your brother has a prior claim." 
 
 " Then you do go, mother ?" 
 
 " Why yes, Gaston, it is right." 
 
 I kissed my mother's forehead when I bade her 
 good-night. She looked and I felt rather scared, but 
 as I fell asleep, I thought there was no harm done. 
 
 Next morning I remembered some affairs to 
 be looked after at Ashhurst. 
 
 " I will meet you at the station on Tuesday 
 week, mother, if you like."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 265 
 
 She looked surprised and pleased, as she 
 assented. The sun shone, and everything was 
 bright to me as I travelled home that day. Since 
 I had been away from Sylvia she seemed more 
 easily to be won. In the afternoon, I got on my 
 bailiff's hack and trotted away briskly towards 
 Westcote, not thinking, but enjoying the quick 
 forward motion and the breeze which blew my 
 hair back, and brushed against me undulating 
 swarms of insects that swayed to and fro in the 
 blue pools of shadow under sycamores and chest- 
 nuts. Everything that came from before me 
 and was left behind gave a sense of onward 
 motion. I liked the eddies of midges. 
 
 I paused at the ivy-arched church-gate. I 
 have all my life felt sudden irresistible impulses 
 which I dared not disobey, lest I should be hence- 
 forth left to evil ones — a childish superstition 
 perhaps, but one that has grown ^vith my growth. 
 
 I tied my horse to the gate, and went in rever- 
 ently to God's-acre. The family burying-place 
 of the Godwins was railed apart, but paved with 
 grass and flowers, not with stone. A white
 
 266 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 marble cross marked Clarice's grave. I felt too 
 mucli to remember what I felt. I only know it 
 was not sorrow, but rather aspiration and strong 
 manful resolve to fulfil her wishes, to love her 
 children as she would have had me love them ; to 
 do her will on earth, and gain her smile from 
 Heaven. Alas, I forgot that other Will to be 
 done on earth 1 I had placed mj right hand on 
 the cross and held myself straight and proud in 
 my resolve. 
 
 "Non nobis, Domine, non nobis" — the voices 
 of the village choir flowed hurrying to me 
 through the suddenly opened church-door, from 
 which a little child passed slowly out. 
 
 "Non nobis Domine," she murmured on, like 
 a chord that vibrates in unison with others 
 though it is not struck. She was pale as any 
 lily, but her eyes were bright enough with faith. 
 
 " You seem ill, my child." 
 
 " Yes sir, the Doctor says I can't live long." 
 
 " Yet he lets you sing ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, I only think the music now, but Miss 
 Sylvia lets me come and go as I can."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 267 
 
 "Do you know the meaning of what you've 
 been singing ? " 
 
 " It means, sir, I think, that all we do is by 
 God's wiU." 
 
 " And when you are naughty ? " 
 
 She looked at me half-startled by the problem : 
 then she said softly, " It is to teach me, sir, that 
 I can't do without God's help." 
 
 " How long have you known this ?" 
 
 '' Mss Sylvia always taught it to us in the 
 school, sir, but I 've felt it more since I lie awake 
 at night." 
 
 I turned away. This "little child" went on 
 softly singing to herself "Xon nobis Domine," 
 meantime the church-door had shut again, and I 
 was left in silence: but I made no more resolves 
 that afternoon ; nor, though I knew Sylvia was in 
 the church practising with her choir, did I go in. 
 I took my horse's bridle off the gate and loitered 
 on, now and then standing to wait. At last she 
 came; her Sussex basket on her arm, half-full 
 of wild-flowers gathered as she walked. She saw 
 me some way off, and came quickly to meet me.
 
 268 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 till her face was all a glow like the day; no 
 tiredness in voice or figure. As usual, when 
 under the spell of her companionship, I ceased 
 to be an egotist, and we talked frankly enough 
 as we walked towards Westcote house. 
 
 I forgot my embarrassments on again entering 
 my uncle's door, from which I had last departed 
 so stormily. I think Sylvia wished me, as her 
 mother would have done, to do so. 
 
 "We shall find papa in the barley-field, I 
 think," she said. " He is seeing some experiment 
 in reaping carried out." 
 
 " He seems a second Mechi." 
 
 " Papa is very clever about machinery, I 
 believe, but will Mrs. Bligh come ? " she inter- 
 posed suddenly, and a little anxiously. 
 
 '' Yes, my mother has commissioned me with a 
 letter to my uncle ; I rode over with it at once." 
 
 " I am glad. I think papa would have been 
 hurt, if Aunt Bligh had refused." 
 
 I don't know if it were larger experience of 
 varieties of men, or sympathy with Sylvia, which 
 caused me to judge more justly of her father than
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 269 
 
 I had done before, both of the formal courtesy 
 of his greeting, and the exaggerated expressions of 
 affection which accompanied each bow. He was 
 pleased and flustered at once by my mother's note, 
 written at Langham ; it was more kindly than any 
 he had had from her for years. 
 
 " And my dear nephew, did you ride with this 
 all the way ? How unlike ! " 
 
 " Only from Ashhurst," I interrupted ; and I 
 added, uupatient to please, " I am lucky to find 
 you so employed, sir. It is time for me to think 
 of these things." 
 
 "Quite right, my dear boy," he exclaimed, 
 taking me by the hand. " Some people," he 
 glanced suspiciously at Sylvia, " think me a 
 perfect fool, but I can tell you I 'm not." 
 
 " Now, what do you gain by this plan ? " I 
 said, quickly. 
 
 " Gain ! we gain a principle, we set an example, 
 we contradict those who support the manual 
 system." 
 
 " Oh, I perceive." 
 
 And from this unintelligible beginning, we
 
 270 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 got into realms of the Mgh-farming imagination : 
 Utopias inhabited by short horns and Leicesters, a 
 Paradise whose four rivers ran liquid manure, 
 the fruit of whose tree of knowledge was turnips, 
 and the soil of its tree of life — guano. 
 
 Sylvia disappeared, but I listened on, and 
 floundered to give my uncle the pleasure of a 
 triumph of wisdom, and caught and tossed his 
 favourite theories high in air, that he m.ight 
 exclaim, " No one else understands me, we are 
 kindred minds, dear Gaston." Was all this dis- 
 sembling ? for the life of me, I could not help it, 
 and I did feel well-disposed and interested for 
 Sylvia's sake. I avoided all personal or family 
 topics as we walked home, and I found my uncle 
 wonderfully well-informed, or rather well-stored 
 with observation. His conclusions on men were 
 generally quite wrong : on things, more satisfactory 
 than those of many a wise man. Talk of facts, 
 places, events, and all was smooth ; but hint at 
 motives, characters — all that had to do with Kfe, 
 and not its forms — and the perversity of my 
 uncle's judgment was incredible.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 271 
 
 I was getting to understand him quickly, and in 
 proportion as I did, Sylvia became franker and 
 more cordial. I was becoming a friend, but 
 meantime I was very happy, though I did not 
 know it 
 
 I stayed for their evening meal, half-tea half- 
 supper. That month my uncle considered late 
 dinners fatal, and played backgammon nearly all 
 the evening. 
 
 " I wish you would stay with us altogether," 
 said Colonel Godwin, when he had won three hits 
 in succession. 
 
 I knew better: I did not return all the next day, 
 though its fau-ness was almost maddening for soli- 
 tude; old thoughts came back and haunted me 
 wherever I turned. One beam, still projecting 
 charred and bent where the roof of my house had 
 been, looked at me through the trees. I walked 
 miles and miles to get away, until evening began 
 to fall, and then I felt the hope of the morrow 
 descend on me like the dew that was to make 
 the morning bright. 
 
 That morrow, and all the alternate days, I spent
 
 272 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 at Westcote, until the Saturday before my 
 mother's arrival. All went smoothly with my 
 uncle, for he missed me and his backgammon, and 
 my respectful attention to his Peninsular and 
 other tales, between each of my measured visits. 
 I became familiar in the house, and his ceremony 
 and forced affection disappeared. At first, Sylvia 
 would look doubtfully at my efforts to please, 
 and her manner would be cold and haughty for 
 ten minutes, but that too wore off when she saw 
 that I amused her father, and really wished to 
 do so; she grew less reserved to me, and less 
 resented a chance-word of mine that fell by acci- 
 dent at times about her home and its singularities. 
 And so, imperceptibly, I gained her confidence, 
 and the key to much that I believe none other 
 ever knew. 
 
 At Newton we were more strange, more on 
 the alert towards each other. We were in society, 
 and bound by its rules to seem neither more nor 
 less than we were. But here, in the life apart 
 of Westcote, I began not only to love but to 
 sympathise, and ceased to feel that I was what
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 273 
 
 the world calls ^^ paying her attentions/' in her 
 reception of my sympathy. 
 
 She was at once older and younger than I ; 
 older in character, in principle, but a child in 
 experience, and unaccustomed, to emotion. Her 
 imposed calm during her father's outbursts of 
 passion had given her a habit of coldness and 
 self-repression which she thought final. She had 
 spent much strength in accquiring the self-control 
 and tender patience which never forsook her 
 relations with Colonel Godwin. Nothincr is more 
 exhausting than the exercise of virtue which is 
 a matter of course, wliich requu'es no conflict 
 with Apollyons or Despairs to make it heroic. 
 Sylvia did not even allow herself to be sorry 
 for her father's failings. This would have been 
 to judge them. Yet who could look at her 
 crimson flushes and quick following paleness, her 
 straight frontal vein and dark-set eyes, her open 
 nostril, and curved lip, without knowing how she 
 could be moved. But I had been from my youth 
 up at war with self: I was old when she was 
 young. 
 
 YOL. I. T
 
 274 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " Why must I think how oft we two 
 Have sat together near the river springs, 
 Under the green pavilion which the willow 
 Spreads on the floor of the unbroken fountain, 
 Strewn by the nurslings that linger there, 
 Over that islet paved with flowers and moss, 
 While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes of crimson snow. 
 Showered on us, and the dove mourned in the pine, 
 Sad prophetess of sorrows not her own." — Shelley. 
 
 Sylvia was old in good. Her natural optimism, 
 and perhaps the violence of recoil, hindered her 
 from accepting the least of her father's slanders 
 on his race. In her solitude, this optimism had 
 developed itself more than it could have done had 
 she mingled in the turmoil of social littleness and 
 evils. She had the most unlimited faith of any one 
 I ever knew, and with it she did miracles. Her 
 sphere of possible work was small, but in it she 
 solved problems that yet remain yeast in abler 
 men's brains, wherewith they do not see their way
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 275 
 
 to leaven even a parish. A word from her was 
 more than an example from others, because of 
 the faith with which she said it A word from 
 her would make rich, would infuse principle, 
 would take the mourner by storm, with irresistible 
 comfort The grain of mustard seed having faith 
 in the sim, and growing up for love of it, will 
 lodge in its branches more fowls of the air than 
 the best oak-tree ever planted in richest soil if 
 it lack vitaKty of sun-aspiring. 
 
 " How do you do what societies of philanthro- 
 pists cannot ? " I asked one day, as we sat down to 
 rest by what was called the ' old lake,' in the 
 park, after a visit to an ailing woman. " How do 
 you make these poor souls trust and love you, 
 as if you were not the squire's daughter ? " 
 
 ^^ Perhaps because I am a woman, not a society." 
 
 " And there is an orderly disorder in your chari- 
 ties, unlike the plans of most Lady Bountiful s." 
 
 " Is not human nature an orderly disorder, of 
 which the plan is laid too deep for us to cross it 
 with our samplers ? " 
 
 " That old woman — you did not say her cottage 
 
 T 2
 
 276 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 was dirty, and yet it was like a pig-stye ; why did 
 you not come down on her ? " 
 
 " So I will, by going to read to lier every day ; 
 she wiU be cleaner for my sake in a day or 
 two." 
 
 " But I thought principle was the right thing, 
 not bits of impulse here and there. She should 
 wash for cleanliness' sake, not yours." 
 
 " Our Lord used not to say that, Gaston," she 
 replied humbly, and reverently. " We are persons, 
 not spokes of wheels." 
 
 " Where did you learn this wisdom, Sylvia ?" 
 
 " In very old, and very new books, and when I 
 tried, I found what th^ said of personal work 
 true, bu* I do so little, Gaston, that I can't bear 
 much witness." 
 
 " I want to do a great deal." 
 
 " That 's right, there is so much to be done." 
 
 " But I don't know how to begin." 
 
 " Do the first bit of charity that comes charit- 
 ably, others will follow, like blades of grass where 
 one has grown." 
 
 " And suppose they grow entangled ? "
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 277 
 
 " It is Heaven's doing, only let them keep on 
 growing." 
 
 *' You teach me much, Sylvia." 
 
 " And you teach me too, dear Gaston ; I think 
 we are friends, are we not ? " 
 
 There was a sort of pleading in her face that 
 I could not refuse, so I said, " Yes." That does 
 not prevent, I thought 
 
 " I have had too much learning," I said ; " but 
 you will educate me." 
 
 ^^ You must think me even older than I am, but 
 true I am old." 
 
 "You say that often, yet you haven't lived 
 much, Sylvia." 
 
 '' Perhaps not, if life is what some books say." 
 
 *' Tell me about your life, if you are so old." 
 
 " I think its monotony made it seem longer ; 
 it has always been like this." 
 
 "Like this?" I repeated, 
 
 "I mean before you were my friend; since I 
 was eighteen. Knowing Eleanor, made a great 
 sunburst on it, though." 
 
 " One thing," I said quickly, " I have more in
 
 278 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 common with you than any other friend can have ; 
 I have the memory of what was before." 
 
 '^ Yes, you loved my mother." 
 
 '^ Dearly, dearly ; some day I will tell you why. 
 I had not a smooth childhood, Sylvia ; she saved 
 me when I was all but lost in the friction of it. 
 She understood the pain of friction. Do you 
 know why she understood so well ? Did she tell 
 you of herself?" 
 
 '' Hush, dear, dear Gaston," she said quivering, 
 as an aspen would if struck. 
 
 She turned away a second ; then, with that still 
 calm which mostly followed all mention of her 
 mother : 
 
 '' Yes, I know her early history ; I am glad you 
 do, my friend." 
 
 I took her hand in mine ; she did not turn from 
 me then : she was calm before the thought of her 
 mother. 
 
 " Shall we go down into the meadow and get 
 some flowers?" she asked, after we had both been 
 silent awhile. 
 
 The meadow, or the old lake, as it was called
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 279 
 
 by turns, had formerly been a battle-field for 
 Colonel Godwin's contending hobbies. First, it 
 was turned into a piece of artificial water, for the 
 production of lampreys, by which the national 
 debt, or near it, was to be realized : alas ! only 
 a Godwin debt ensued. To pay off this, the pond 
 was drained on every system but Mr. Smith's 
 of Deanston. There followed a harvest of beauty, 
 though not of guineas ; pompous turnips and 
 proud wheat refused to grow there, but in their 
 stead came trooping a goodly company — purple 
 loose-strife, that caught on its tall spires the last 
 amethyst rays of sunset, and kept them for a 
 warning to the large daisies that they too, though 
 each a little sun, must droop — regiments of 
 flagger-swords guarding their queenly flower in 
 youth, or bowing to her in old age, turned 
 courtiers; their backs the favourite resting-place 
 of dragon-flies hstening apart and dreamily to the 
 hum and stir of bees. The verv nettles blossomed 
 with bright colours, and ceased to sting in that 
 unhumanized wilderness, round the edge of which 
 were butterfly-orchises, sending up perfume to
 
 280 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 the sun, instead of winged service ; and the trailing 
 blindweed leant, like a mischievous innocent child, 
 over the marsh she might not grow in, and so was 
 caught by Sylvia's loving hand, and carried off to 
 an art sacrifice. 
 
 But that was not enough ; we stepped, from tuft 
 to tuft, to an islet of heath in the centre, sparkling 
 with sundews, the sediment of the morning light ; 
 and Parnassus grass, that lifted on slight stalks its 
 veined cups, like white souls that have done with 
 earth. I never saw these likenesses before, but 
 now all things beautiful seemed to have voices, 
 and Sylvia taught me their harmonies. 
 
 She did not say much about them, or catalogue 
 their charms, but she drew theu' beauties out by 
 arrangement. The basket-stand in her sitting- 
 room was a poem ; together we used to compose 
 these flower-dramas, and linger artist-like over 
 our creation ; for they were creations, these embo- 
 died dreams of summer, thickly set with royalties, 
 and nobles, and fair ladies, as the grandest play. 
 
 " You have some water-lilies in one of your 
 woods, Gaston," said Sylvia, when we sat down
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 281 
 
 before our finished work to take in all its 
 beautj. 
 
 ^' Have I ? — by the by, I beard you were there 
 lately." 
 
 " Just before you came over. I found a cycla- 
 men growing on the old stone stairs of the house, 
 I wonder how it got there ?" 
 
 '' Perhaps I may like my home the better for it, 
 some day." 
 
 " It seemed to me a sort of good omen, for 
 it is not a common flower ; but, Gaston, why have 
 you been so little at home ? " 
 
 ^' The house was burned, and I had nothing 
 to do with home." 
 
 '^ I remember wondering why you never went 
 there, when you were here last" 
 
 " Did you wonder ? I did not think you knew I 
 was here even." 
 
 " I was very sullen, I remember, and I fancied 
 you were too." 
 
 " Oh, I was a fool, a brute, even to her." 
 
 "Yes; yet—" 
 
 " How good she was, how tender I how wise I
 
 282 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 Dear Sylvia, I never knew how wise, how tender, 
 till this last fortnight. I have been so ungrateful 
 to her all these years, done so little what she 
 would have liked, and yet I have been kept afloat 
 by her last few words ; even when I didn't think 
 of them they kept me up." 
 
 It had grown dusky twilight. I could not see 
 Sylvia's face, which was slightly averted from 
 me ; she steadied her' voice to say — 
 
 '^ You saw her that last day?" 
 
 " Yes ; and she sent a note to me afterwards ; I 
 have it still." 
 
 "I saw it; she gave it to me to fold, she was 
 too ill." 
 
 " And that was why her hand shook ?" 
 
 After a pause I said, "' Can you tell me more, 
 Sylvia?" 
 
 She could not ; her voice broke down, even as 
 she said so, and then grew calm again, in a 
 murmured prayer of which I only caught the 
 accent, the meaning went to Heaven. 
 
 I took her hand in mine, and it lay still and 
 soft, and warm as a sleeping child's. She was
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 283 
 
 with her mother, not with me, and our hearts met 
 before her mother. Oh, we were one that hour ; 
 yes, if not afterwards, we were one that hour. 
 
 ^ Sylvia," I said softly, after a while, " I will 
 fetch those last words, and we will read them 
 together." 
 
 " Together," she repeated. " Yes, together we 
 will read those last words!" 
 
 And while she spoke with calm slow accent, her 
 hand in mine grew suddenly cold ; then she added, 
 rising quickly, '^ It is dark, Gaston — ^not just now." 
 
 She went away, and I did not see her again 
 until our evening meal. 
 
 She was very silent afterwards, and did not as 
 usual draw her chair near the backgammon-table 
 to watch our various luck. Truly I did not give 
 much heed to the games, and I did not know 
 I had four times won, when my uncle with sudden 
 storm upset the table, flung the dice across the 
 room, and all but accused me of unfair play. 
 The outbreak was so unexpected, that I stood 
 amazed and motionless, while, in all the insanity of 
 ungovemed rage, he broke a chair across his
 
 284 GASTON BUGH. 
 
 knee, because he stumbled against it, and threw 
 its dismembered limbs about the room. 
 
 It was sad to see his frail old age torn by this 
 demon. His eyes grew sunken, yet unnaturally 
 bright, while the veins on his tense forehead 
 swelled black and knotted. Sylvia left the room, 
 as she always did, to avoid the wrong of being 
 an eye-witness to his weakness, but she glided 
 in again, and gave me unseen a little note in 
 pencil. 
 
 ^' Do not seem to shun him ; when he is calm, 
 speak frankly. Whatever happens, come to- 
 morrow as if nothing were strange." 
 
 I did as she desired, and from that night I was 
 a tenfold favourite with her father. 
 
 I acted a little indignation and surprise, made 
 no secret of my opinions, and left the room with 
 a grand bow. 
 
 My uncle looked at me ; but I hastened away, 
 to avoid his strangely keen powers of perception ; 
 and though I longed to say a word to Sylvia, I 
 would not mar the effect of my exit by a delav 
 in banging the hall-door.
 
 GASTON ELIOtH, 285 
 
 Next morning I walked over before service- 
 time. It was Sunday. 'Mj uncle assumed his 
 higli courtesy — the most dangerous mood for our 
 intercourse ; but I went frankly up to him, and 
 asked his pardon for my hot temper the previous 
 night 
 
 " My dear boy, it 's in the family," he said 
 graciously, and from thenceforth I was, I think, 
 really a resource to him; he no longer felt me 
 a restraint. Fancies about me might come and 
 go, but I became by this initiation a sort of child 
 of the house. 
 
 Meantime, he leant on my arm going to church, 
 and in his recoil of affection gave me no oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to his daughter. She looked 
 very pale and sad. When we were a moment 
 alone I made some allusions to her note, and my 
 tactics, but she said hurriedly — 
 
 " Pray do not speak of it, dear Gaston, but I 
 think papa is happier. You are very kind," she 
 continued, more frankly, " and I know I seem 
 inconsistent, but I cannot think I was right in 
 asking you to — indeed in saying anything at all." 
 
 " But it '5 all right, Sylvia,"
 
 286 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " Papa is never long angry, but few understand 
 him, and he is just enough to like people not to 
 fear him. And on Mrs. Bligh's account I should 
 be sorry he were vexed just now." 
 
 '^ Trust me," I said gravely, " I will never vex 
 him, and you shall teach me to understand him." 
 
 "Thanks, dear friend," she said, with her 
 dearest, most gentle manner, " but only do just 
 rightly and truthfully, Gaston, and I need not 
 make you ' understand' that." 
 
 " We are not ^ spokes of a wheel,' you know ; 
 I think you can make me imderstand all things, 
 or at least feel all right things." 
 
 " You see how weak I am in right — I was not 
 right in this." 
 
 I did not dare to reason her out of her white 
 soul's sensitiveness. 
 
 "Your right shall be my right, and your 
 wrong my wrong," I murmured, half to myself. 
 
 "Don't, don't. It is not kind. It is not 
 friendly," she said, imploringly, looking at me 
 with startled eyes. 
 
 "And suppose not!" I exclaimed. "We were 
 standing in the church-yard waiting for Colonel
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 287 
 
 Godwin, who was kept by churchwarden arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Sylvia turned from me and looked at the white 
 cross. It was but a gesture, yet it left me no 
 other words than — 
 
 '^Forgive me, friend." 
 
 My horse was waiting for me at the gate. I 
 only stayed to say good-bye to my uncle, and 
 rode back slowly from home to exile. 
 
 I had never been close to the ruins of the old 
 house of Ashhurst, but I felt they were no longer 
 unhallowed since that white cyclamen had taken 
 root on the stairs. I went to look for it, and 
 found a blossom making light in darkness. My 
 first impulse was to gather it, and keep it by me ; 
 yet I would not again desolate the spot, and left it 
 there. 
 
 "But that other white flower — I will gather 
 her and wear her next my heart," I said, and 
 sighed, even as I said it, for flower or love we 
 can at best but take it within the mere out 
 works of conventional life. All things must still 
 remain outside ourselves.
 
 288 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " To-morrow I will know," I thought, " if she 
 will brighten my home like this cyclamen — I will 
 not pass to-morrow — I cannot pass to-morrow. 
 She puts me off with friendship: is it because 
 she feels there is more, that she clings to 
 the name, the foolish name? To-morrow I will 
 know my fate, and if it be to give her all my 
 life, if she will accept my very soul, my faith, 
 my worship, my love — then " 
 
 Then, I was up at sunrise the following morn- 
 ing, but I would not go to Westcote till afternoon. 
 Suppose I were to fail. No, I would lose no 
 chance. Her father did not like to be disturbed 
 at dinner. Here 's three o'clock, now I may go ! 
 How my hand trembled as I pulled the bell at 
 Westcote. 
 
 " Colonel Godwin and Miss Godwin have gone 
 to London, sir ; we expect them by an afternoon 
 train, to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, to-morrow — " I turned from the door, 
 and went back, full of anticipated evil. 
 
 " No use," I said, *^ why should I be happy ? — 
 she is not, and why should I ? "
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 289 
 
 I let my horse choose his own pace, in my 
 dejection, and the shadows had spread into twi- 
 light by my return to my ungarnished room at 
 Gibson's house. But a note from Sylvia lay on 
 the bleak table, like a feather from the wing of 
 some angel that had visited me, and left no other 
 token. 
 
 "Dear Gaston — Papa wishes me to tell you 
 
 we are gone to London for one night, lest you 
 
 should wonder, if you heard from others, of our 
 
 leaving on the eve of j\Irs. Bligh's arrival. He 
 
 had business, and wished me to help him. We 
 
 shall be at Westcote before Mrs. Blioh comes 
 
 to-morrow. — Yours, 
 
 " Stlyia Godwin." 
 
 " If there had been one * s' less in that signature," 
 I thought. " ' Your Sylvia,' instead," and so I fell 
 into a thousand pleasant thoughts and hopes, in 
 all the luxury of reaction. 
 
 I wanted to know my exact income, and the 
 necessary charges on it — that cyclamen had set 
 me planning. 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " So, Gibson," I said, after an hour of detail 
 from him, "the upshot of the whole is, that 
 I shall have two thousand a year to spend. 
 I did not calculate on the half of it ; you must 
 have managed well." 
 
 " We have to thank Mrs. Bhgh for it in a 
 great measure — I must say that. She said to me 
 at once, on my late master's death, * Mr. Bligh 
 wished to pay off that mortgage, Gibson, and the 
 money must be saved before my son comes of 
 age.' You see, sir, she knew young blood would 
 be young blood, and she wished to do the work, 
 and leave you the idleness ; most ladies, left as 
 he was, would have done quite differently." 
 Have you got a copy of my father's will ? " 
 
 " No sir, it 's at your solicitor's ; but I know it 
 well." 
 
 " Am I tenant in tail or is the estate settled? " 
 
 " Didn't you know, sir. Your father was the 
 last in the entail, and he left all to Mrs. Bligh. It 
 wasn't settled on her marriage. She was owner 
 in fee " 
 
 " She is, you mean," I said, in rather blank 
 
 s
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 291 
 
 reflection. " Why did you lead me to suppose I 
 was master here ? " 
 
 "You are, sir. On your coming of age, the 
 other day, your mother transferred the property 
 to you." 
 
 " Do you mean gave it to me ? but that can't 
 be valid : I must Lave been a consenting party." 
 
 " Well, sir, you signed a deed of annuity to 
 her of one thousand a year, and that was sufficient 
 consideration." 
 
 I was too proud to say much to Gibson, so L 
 went on as drily as I could. 
 " Why wasn't I told all this ?" 
 " Mr. Jones read out the deeds to you, sir. 
 and you signed them ; I thought, of course, you 
 knew. It 's a sight more troublesome, sir, to 
 make a person understand when he 's to pay 
 money than when he receives it." 
 
 " And how was the mortgage paid off?" 
 
 " That 's not done yet, sir : but there 's a matter 
 
 of sixteen thousand pounds in the funds which 
 
 Avill go near it. Then, sir, allowmg four or five 
 
 hundred a year for improvements, and a thousand 
 
 V 2
 
 292 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 to Mrs. Bligh, you have a clear two thousand 
 over." 
 
 '* I don't see how you 've done so much." 
 
 ^^ To tell you a secret, sir, Mrs. Bligh never 
 drew more than six hundred a year, and you 
 were steady yourself. I thought Oxford would 
 have made a hole in our funded money, but 
 it 's all right — all very right." 
 
 " And the house ? " I said, half to myself. 
 
 " A great blow, sir, a great blow ; and it was 
 insured. I doubt if Mrs. Bligh was right in 
 that — she would not " 
 
 ^' She was right in that as in all," I interrupted, 
 somewhat sternly. 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt, sir ; but I hope you '11 
 build again before I die." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Gibson. Leave me the maps and 
 papers; I want to look over them quietly." 
 
 He went, and I began to ponder all this 
 crushing generosity of my mother's, and yet why 
 crushing ? Why should I feel almost humiliated ? 
 
 Do I seem a monster of ingratitude ? I would 
 have given all I had to the next comer, if it
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 293 
 
 would have relieved me from the oppression of 
 this orderly kindness. If she had kept her money 
 and given me love. Yet she had done much, 
 but it was care, benefits, self-sacrifice, she had 
 given me. Her motive ? Doubtless, love of me. 
 Why hadn't she given love to me ? I couldn't 
 have kissed her forehead at Langham if I had 
 known. Yet poor dear mother, I hated myself 
 for these thoughts, but I could not change them. 
 I could have loved her more if she had been 
 careless of me than when I knew she had given 
 me all she could. Then I should have thoucrht 
 myself to blame, and hoped for some change ; 
 but now I had all her love, and what was it ? 
 Care!
 
 294 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " Sick, am I sick of a jealous dread ? 
 Was not one of the two by her side 
 This new-made lord, whose splendour plucks 
 The slavish hat from the villager's head ; 
 Kich in the grace all women desire 
 Strong in the power that all men adore 
 
 and hold 
 
 Awe-stricken breaths at a work divine." — Tennyson. 
 
 There was mucli nervousness and embarrassment 
 in my mother's greeting at the railway-station, 
 where I went to meet her, yet also there was 
 more confidingness. We talked of Westcote on 
 our way there, but not confidentially, however. 
 I asked some questions of old times, and found 
 that my father had, unintentionally, affronted 
 Colonel Godwin, and that since his death my 
 mother had resented this resentment more than 
 ever my father had done. She "believed" that
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 295 
 
 poor Mrs. Godwin had suffered much from her 
 ill-advised marria^-e. 
 
 o 
 
 " She was not suited to my brother, though 
 she seemed an excellent person." 
 
 I changed the topic, and we talked busily of 
 everything farthest from our hearts until we 
 arrived at our destination. 
 
 "My angel-sister, welcome!" said my uncle, 
 as he led my mother with dignity to the drawing- 
 room. Not the room I was used to, but one 
 furnished at some culminating point of the God- 
 win fortune, in which whatever was not gilt was 
 slippery, and what w^as not slippery was gilt. 
 Sylvia came, with formal, quiet manner, to meet 
 her aunt, and behind her stood De Boville and 
 Mr. Danby. 
 
 I had scarcely seen De Boville since the time at 
 Pau, but the four years that had elapsed had not 
 altered him in the least. He had kept his promises 
 to himself, if not to the world. He spoke from a 
 sublimer height — was it his fault if the world could 
 not hear his Olympian words? A chosen few, 
 Olympian like himself, comprehended his views,
 
 296 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 which, indeed, took in only the heights of society, 
 as was natural, and dealt with its valleys and 
 plains as mere-standing ground for the eyries. 
 
 He was Colonel Godwin's nephew, but for all 
 that, how came he at Westcote, which, if not the 
 lowest depth, was still abysmal in his eyes ? 
 
 " I told De Boville • of our little family re- 
 union," said Colonel Godwin, graciously, " and he 
 was good enough to come with us from London. 
 Mr. Danby, too." And introductions followed. 
 
 "I don't know you, Sylvia, in this room," I 
 said, when the others talked enough to let me 
 speak unheard by them : " I remember Mr. 
 Danby at Newton, who is he ? " 
 
 " I think papa met him at Mansergh Hall." 
 
 We were rather late, and it was time to dress 
 for dinner, so I could ask no more, before we were 
 ushered to our rooms. Ask ! T did not venture on 
 my cousinly cross-questioning, there was so stiff 
 an atmosphere. It was as much as one could do 
 to breathe the buckram air. The flowers were 
 safe in Sylvia's room, lounging in the evening 
 light, while we assembled on the slippery chairs
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 297 
 
 and wished for dinner. It came — more grandeurs, 
 new servants. My mother and her politest brother 
 led the way with infinite state, Sylvia and De 
 Boville, Mr. Danby and I followed. I looked at 
 him, having nothing else particular to do, and 
 remembered that I had heard he was a rejected 
 suitor of Ulrica Smith's, and I began to specu- 
 late on what the ways of rejected suitors would 
 be to other young ladies that crossed their 
 blighted path. 
 
 Before dinner was half over I conceived an 
 antipathy to him; I thought he held his little 
 finger afiectedly. 
 
 Besides, he talked a great deal too much to 
 Sylvia, and that low voice at so small a party 
 was impertinent. At last she rose, I thought 
 she never would, and we were left a quartette 
 uncono-enial enouo-h. 
 
 o o 
 
 "How is Armstrong?" asked De Boville, 
 turning to me, and remembering something dimly 
 of me and his late tutor. 
 
 "When I saw him last, three years ago, he was 
 well."
 
 298 GASTON BUGH. 
 
 " All ! true." 
 
 " Armstrong ? The Armstrong who was with 
 us at Athens — do you remember how he pulled 
 you up, De Boville?" 
 
 "Did he, I don't recall it," and De Boville 
 turned to my uncle in evident bore. 
 
 " What did you give for Carrington's horses, De 
 Boville ?" broke in Mr. Danby again, shortly after. 
 
 " I forget. Probably he remembers." 
 
 " Ah, very good ! Poor fellow, I think he did 
 you rather ? 
 
 "Do you really. The class that suffers most 
 in Otaheite is undoubtedly the manufacturing, 
 and this should warn us." 
 
 " Yes, you are quite right, you have true 
 insight," exclaimed Colonel Godwin warmly; 
 " your views are quite mine," 
 
 " What shall you do about hunting this winter, 
 De Boville ? " recommenced Mr Danby. 
 
 " Possibly I shall not hunt at all." 
 
 " What fun we used to have ! I say, old fellow, 
 I'll put up your horses if you'll come to our 
 country this winter."
 
 GASTO>^ BLIGH. 299 
 
 " I do not mean to go to your country this 
 winter, thanks. I am quite sure if a proper appeal 
 were made even yet to the great hop interest — " 
 
 Mr. Danby yaT\Tied and sighed ; we left the 
 politicians to discourse of coming rain, I was 
 impatient to understand something of somebody 
 from my Sylvia of the previous Sunday. 
 
 But in vain — we were eating buckram — all 
 intimacy was gone. Sylvia was grave and pale ; 
 my mother seemed to have had recourse to 
 dogmatism, if one might judge from her slightly 
 uneasy expression. 
 
 " It must have been hot in London : are you 
 tired?" I asked Sylvia. 
 
 " Papa had a good deal to do ; has he told you 
 of the fireworks ? " 
 
 " No : were you at any fireworks last night ? " 
 
 " There are to be some here to-night." 
 
 " Fireworks ! it 's like nothing but the his- 
 tory of Mother Hubbard! but why pyrotechny, 
 Sylvia?" 
 
 Meantime, her father had come in, and we heard 
 him announcing a little entertainment, "just to
 
 300 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 please my daughter ; she has never seen any 
 fireworks." 
 
 Sylvia was looking down, but I noticed the least 
 start. 
 
 " And so, my dear sister," he continued, " we 
 have combined my child's amusement and a little 
 fete in your honour ; shall we go out on the terrace, 
 and I will give the signal for beginning ? " 
 
 I believe we were all puzzled; but my uncle 
 offered his arm to my mother, who looked doubt- 
 fully at Sylvia's bent-down eyes. Mr. Danby 
 laughed, and said — 
 
 " Let 's do a little bit of Cremorne, Miss 
 Godwin ; come along, De Boville." 
 
 But De Boville sat down in a slippery arm- 
 chair, in sublime reverie. I stayed too, for Danby 
 was odious in my sight, and why on earth did 
 Sylvia go with him. 
 
 " At Oxford, Bligh?" asked De Boville 
 presently. 
 
 " What ? I beg your pardon. Yes. Do you 
 know this Mr. Danby, De Boville ? " 
 
 " Yes, I saw a good deal of him, when I was in
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 301 
 
 the Mediterranean, but I 've lost sight of him 
 since." 
 
 " Oh." 
 
 The fireworks behaved very well. Colonel 
 Godwin retui-ned radiant, De Boville and my 
 mother found some common "view," and were 
 mutually charmed by each other's " principles." 
 Sylvia was kind to Mr Danby, and as Mrs Newton 
 prophesied, my uncle was a Crichton-Coligny. 
 I did not think of asking him to play back- 
 gammon.
 
 302 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV, 
 
 " Love himself took part against himself 
 To warn us off, and Duty loved of Love 
 Oh, this world's curse — beloved but hated — came 
 Like Death betwixt thy dear embrace and mine." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 De Boville left Westcote the following morning ; 
 but Mr. Danby stayed on. 
 
 " I knew if I went in the same train, De Boville 
 would choose another carriage," he said, quaintly, 
 to Miss Godwin. " We used to be like brothers, 
 but I 'm not in his set now, and set-hood is 
 more than brotherhood among the sublimities." 
 
 " And it is very important, Mr. Danby," said 
 my mother severely. " The worth of our society 
 is the first consideration." 
 
 " Oh, it isn't worth, or birth — subHmity is the 
 shibboleth in this case ; now, I 'm not sublime, and 
 I can't get it up, though I take it, John Danby is
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 303 
 
 not behind A. B. C. Harrison, in worth or birth, 
 health or wealth." 
 
 " De Boville has taken a very high position. 
 He is singularly looked up to by the leading men 
 of his party ; he must deserve their confidence." 
 
 "Excuse me, my dear Mrs. Bligh. The sub- 
 limities all take high positions if they are not 
 absolute idiots ; but it 's a dangerous eminence 
 in the long run, and if they haven't solid parts, 
 they are as often looked up through as to." 
 
 " Certainly ; to stand in the sun, one must give 
 out light, or be mere outlines, hke the phantom 
 ship," said Sylvia, quickly. 
 
 " Capital ! !Miss Godwin, capital I I need say no 
 more: the sublimities become flying-Dutchmen." 
 
 My mother was much dissatisfied, but she made 
 no further remark. Though not enrolled in the 
 corps, she was essentially a sublimity. ^Ir. Danby 
 seemed to her quite unwarrantable in his remarks, 
 and Sylvia even more so to encourage them. 
 
 We were an uncongenial society, and strange to 
 say, my mother clung to my uncle's companionship, 
 during the week she had imposed on herself, in
 
 304 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 preference to Sylvia's. He was flattered by her 
 evident anxiety to walk with him, when the 
 alternative was Mr. Danby's or her niece's com- 
 pany. Each day this grew on her, I could not 
 guess why, until I chanced once or twice to catch 
 stray words from her brother like these : 
 
 " I am so glad of your countenance for Sylvia 
 — she has strange ideas, which I fear shock those 
 who do not know her heart, poor darling, but your 
 kindness will be a tower of strength to her." 
 Or else, "My Sylvia is so very clever, she 
 does not always give fair play to her natural feel- 
 ings. She is a little wilful about her own views, 
 and often thwarts mine foolishly." Again, " I 
 am a mere cypher. She governs herself, and 
 me, perhaps too much, but I never could resist 
 my heart." Or, worst of all, " My daughter 
 is so very much imbued with the modern dis- 
 order of women's lives and principles, that I 
 quite fear for her ; I have no influence. Her 
 sainted mother would have grieved to see her 
 despise my grey hairs ; but she spoilt Sylvia." 
 
 Good heavens ! my blood boiled to hear this
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 305 
 
 egotist, for it was the family disease that prompted 
 his morbid thoughts of her who spent her life 
 only too fast for him. 
 
 This week she avoided me, I fancied, and 
 certainly she wished Danby to stay on when 
 I think no one else did ; and she was kind to 
 him, and listened to his long tales of cock- 
 shooting near Athens, and of a rat hunt in 
 the ColiseuuL 
 
 I waited every day to see what to-morrow 
 would bring either of certain hope or certain 
 discouragement; I went once to Ashhurst, but 
 not with my mother — Colonel Godwin took her 
 to see her old pensioners and schools. I would 
 not trust myself with old times, and they had 
 grown again a painful weight since her benefits 
 had been added to it. But I began some 
 incoherent speech on her return, of demerit 
 and gratitude, and sincere objections to her 
 divesting herself of her rightful property during 
 my life. 
 
 " I have done what I thought just, Gaston." 
 (How she always stripped her kindnesses of- flesh 
 
 vol. I. X
 
 306 aASTON BLIGH. 
 
 till they became horrible skeletons, not angels !) 
 It is for you to prove I have not been wrong. 
 Let lis speak no more about it — I will give you 
 some papers of your father's which express his 
 wishes : I only ask they may be carried out." 
 
 I promised they should, and another door was 
 shut between my mother and me ; yet I had lost 
 all childish anger, and wished to love her. 
 
 At last, the day before our departure, Danby 
 went. Colonel Godwin and my mother had gone 
 to return some neighbour's visit, and Sylvia and 
 I were alone in the drawing-room. 
 
 *^I must write to Eleanor," she said, moving 
 towards her own sitting-room, which opened off 
 the one we were in. 
 
 "May I come?" I asked, with hesitation; I 
 had resolved nothing, but I felt near some epoch. 
 
 " Certainly, you used not to ask leave." 
 
 " From my woods ! " I exclaimed, seeing some 
 water lilies on her table. 
 
 " No, Mr. Danby found these near here yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Did he stay for that ? He was to have gone 
 yesterday."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 307 
 
 « Was he ? I didn't know." 
 
 " Sylvia, cannot you be true ? Can't anyone be 
 true?" 
 
 She did not look up, I saw her hand shake as 
 she dipped a pen in the ink and began to write, 
 but she replied calmly — 
 
 " I am true, Gaston. I did not know that Mr. 
 Danby stayed longer than he intended ; but I 
 was glad he did." 
 
 " More truth, give me more still. Why were 
 you glad ? " 
 
 She crimsoned painfully. 
 
 '^ I will not tell you, Gaston." 
 
 " Well," I said, " it is better so, perhaps, to 
 know thus early. I give you back your friend- 
 ship, Sylvia. I was a presumptuous fool : forgive 
 me, and God bless you, whatever happens to me." 
 
 She looked up, as pale now as flushed before, 
 and said almost fiercely — 
 
 '^ You are ungenerous, unkind to me : what 
 right have you to give me back my friend- 
 ship? is it so worthless because I try to make 
 my father's house pleasant to his guest, and kee]) 
 
 X 2
 
 308 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 liim from the harsh tongues and wrong inter- 
 pretations of those who do not understand him ! " 
 
 "I do not blame you, Sylvia, for making a 
 guest welcome at the expense of a friend. For- 
 give me if I forgot that I was only a friend ; I will 
 not offend again." 
 
 "1 cannot let you go thinking this — Gaston, 
 you know how anxious I am that my father 
 should not — that your mother should not — I 
 don't know what I say ; this Mr. Danby was a 
 restraint — could you not see?" 
 
 " And this was all, Sylvia ? why could you 
 not confide in me ? I would have helped you." 
 
 " Dear Gaston, I have said too much ; let what 
 I have said be sacred — oh, friend, friend, I ought 
 to have been silent." 
 
 " And let me be lost, as I should be if I lost 
 faith in you. Sylvia, listen to me ! I understand 
 your filial reverence, but there is a closer tie 
 than that which binds children to their parents." 
 
 She sat up white and shivering, but with a 
 wild light of entreaty in her eyes ; 
 
 " Gaston, I ask you for my sake say no more ;
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 309 
 
 I do love my father, I need no other ties ; I need 
 no help, I am old, and strong, and very happy." 
 
 *' Very happy, Sylvia?" 
 
 '^ I must not lie," she murmured ; then, " if 
 not, I will be," she added, with shut teeth. 
 
 " But I know you cannot be. Oh, Sylvia, 
 listen to me, you do not know what life can be ; 
 you do not know the infinite blessing, the unstinted 
 peace, that can be. Dearest, my dearest, I can 
 bear witness, for since I knew you, Sylvia, I have 
 known life." 
 
 She listened with closed eyes, motionless as if 
 in a trance. 
 
 " Sylvia, I ask you to let me be the one to 
 guide you into that other world of life and light, 
 away from these trials that are killing you, away 
 from duty that you cannot support. Do you 
 think I do not know your infinite capacity for 
 love — for receiving, for giving? Do I not see 
 your starved heart perishing in agony of hunger 
 for its Heaven-promised food. Sylvia, beheve 
 me." 
 
 " I believe you," she said, dreamily.
 
 310 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 " I know I am unworthy of you, Sylvia ; but 
 my love is not. I know that I can but oflPer to 
 you a heart that is of stunted growth, that was — 
 until I knew you. A youth that was darkened by 
 more wrong than common. Yet oh, my Sylvia, 
 the desert place will blossom if you make it glad. 
 Sylvia, my whole soul is in these words — I love 
 you — ^will you reject it?" 
 
 I rose and stood before her, waiting for her 
 reply. She did not speak: I went to her and 
 lifted a braid of hair that had fallen across her 
 brow. At my touch she started and sat up, 
 remaining a moment silent, her head bowed on 
 her clasped hands. 
 
 " God strengthen me," she murmured. Then 
 very calm she looked up. " God's will be done," 
 she said: "Gaston, I must not love you, nor 
 receive your love." 
 
 I waited to hear; I dared not plead more, 
 before that livid face and calm eye. 
 
 " On my mother's death-bed I promised I would 
 not " 
 
 " Did she specify me?"
 
 GASTON ELIGH. 311 
 
 "Yes. Here is what she wrote, lest I might 
 forget." 
 
 She opened a drawer of her writing-table and 
 took from it an old blurred fragment, not lately 
 opened one could tell from the folds. 
 
 "My child, I have already said what I now 
 write ; I write, and you support my dying hands, 
 I know my words will be ever sacred to you. 
 I do not command you never to be more than 
 a friend to your English cousins, your father's 
 nephews — I do more ; I implore you to be guided 
 by me. You may be thrown much with Gaston 
 Bligh. Be his friend, darling child — nothing 
 more. It does not seem probable now, but I 
 fear lest, when I am no more, you should 
 ignorantly wreck your life. My Sylvia, my life's 
 happiness, my smile fr'om God, these words of 
 mine may some day be a burden on you, a keen 
 suffering. It may be, but nothing like the burden 
 and suffering of unhappy marriage. I do not 
 scruple the risk of this request, comparing it with 
 that danger ; and now to God's care I commit 
 you, child. All suffering is lighter than that 
 from which I would warn you. In your greatest
 
 312 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 trial remember this, my ownest child, all suffering 
 but sin; from that God only, not your mother, 
 can save you. Farewell, God's child — my 
 orphan I He will lead you gently, oh, my child. 
 Lean on Him from moment to moment; bow 
 before Him when trials come ; hold His gracious 
 Hand, my Sylvia, and fear nought !" 
 
 The writing ended here ; I gave it back with- 
 out a word, and there was long silence between 
 us ; I could not plead against that letter from the 
 other world. 
 
 At last, very tenderly and gently, she said, — 
 '' She wished us to be friends, you see." 
 Her words loosed my spirits, I poured out my 
 whole passionate heart in incoherent prayer; I 
 knew hardly for what — not that she would dis- 
 obey her mother, but that she would be my 
 friend, that she would never love another, or 
 as least not without my knowledge; I know not 
 what I said. 
 
 *'I will serve you; I must. Sylvia, tell me 
 what to do. Even bid me go, and I '11 go. Yes, 
 I will be your friend, before God, your true 
 friend."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 313 
 
 " Go now then, dear, dear Gaston. May God 
 
 bless you for your goodness to me " She 
 
 broke down. 
 
 I would have stayed to strengthen her, yes, 
 strengthen her against my own pleading. Oh, I 
 could have died for her ! but she said again, 
 that I was to go for the present — to be her own 
 true friend, and go. 
 
 I went ; I was not unhappy, I was fall of a 
 sincere self-sacrifice and devotion. I went out, 
 and walked to and fro devising a thousand plans 
 for Sylvia's good. By degrees, the iron entered 
 into my soul as I followed up these plans, and 
 their folly grew larger on my sight. Was I to 
 leave her there to waste her life away, as she 
 was doing, in the constant anguish of patience, 
 or, worse still, to see her receive redemption from 
 some other hand ? Yet this, indeed, was my only 
 prospect. I tore at life that had so netted me ; 
 I flung myself on the grass and plucked it up by 
 handiuls in my impotent repining against all 
 circumstances. Suddenly I heard voices : the 
 instinct of seclusion from every eye kept me still
 
 314 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 a moment, while Colonel Godwin and my mother 
 passed. I might be an eavesdropper, but I could 
 not meet them : at that moment I heard my 
 mother's voice saj, in low and rather tremulous 
 tones — 
 
 " You are very flattering to Gaston, my dear 
 Edward ; but I could not wish for the marriage 
 of such near relations. His father would not " 
 
 " God bless me, Gertrude, don't tell me of his 
 father ; I tell you the boy has been here too much 
 for his own happiness ; Sylvia, indeed, would look 
 higher, I fancy." 
 
 '* My dear brother," said my mother, with 
 dignity, " I speak on her account even more 
 than my son's. If you have seen anything 
 of what you say, I would be careful for the 
 futui-e." 
 
 " Careftil, Gertrude Bligh ! do you lecture me 
 on my behaviour ! I like the boy, he is like 
 the old stock of us, some of whom have more 
 heart than others, and if I choose to ask my 
 nephew here, what then?" 
 
 '' I should think Sylvia " began my mother.
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 315 
 
 '' And would you set her against me ? but it 's 
 no use ; I may be a weak old doting fool, but I '11 
 be obeyed ; no one shall interfere with me." 
 
 Their voices were lost, but I was sobered by 
 what I had heard. It was a relief to have some- 
 thing to do. I returned to the house and found 
 my mother in her room. She was unused to my 
 visits, but she never allowed herself to fail when 
 she thought a duty required performance. At 
 once she said, — 
 
 " It is from no spirit of interference, Gaston, 
 that I wish to warn you " 
 
 " I think I know what you would say, mother. 
 I know my uncle has spoken to you of my 
 marriacre with his daughter, so I came to tell 
 you that she has refused me." 
 
 '* I think the better of her, Gaston. It would 
 have been quite unsuitable ; your age " 
 
 I commanded myself, and continued drily — 
 
 " She refused me in obedience to her mother." 
 
 " Her mother was right." 
 
 " It seems she was," I said, bitterly resenting 
 these cold words, " but let this gain your esteem
 
 316 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 for Sylvia ; be kind to her, motlier," I continued, 
 earnestly. 
 
 '^ Her father will be, and that should be suffi- 
 cient to a well-regulated mind." 
 
 "You will, of course, not aUude to this to 
 him?" 
 
 " It is not my duty ; but I suppose Sylvia 
 
 will." 
 
 ^' How can she ? but you don't understand her, 
 mother." 
 
 " It is not praise to say a young lady is hard 
 to understand, Gaston." 
 
 " Well, I will say no more. You go to- 
 morrow?" 
 
 " Yes, by the mid-day train." 
 
 " I will go with you as far as London." 
 
 " Very well."
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 *' Hers will I be, and only with this thoughte 
 Content myself although my chance be noughte," 
 
 SUBRET. 
 
 The evening was not lively. Sylvia's eyes and 
 cheeks burned feverishly, but her hands hung 
 listlessly by her side. She struggled to keep up 
 formal conversation with my mother, but she had 
 at no time much small-talk ; she was apt to be 
 either earnest or indiflferent, and could not take a 
 regulation interest. 
 
 Colonel Godwin was barely preserved from an 
 outbreak of temper by the dead weight of my 
 mother's dignity. He was very defiant, and 
 alleviated his feelings by boisterous backgammon, 
 at which he happily won. He was extremely 
 paternal and affectionate to me, and I devoted 
 myself to him for his daughter's sake. At last
 
 318 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 we separated for the night — I found a moment to 
 say to Sylvia, — 
 
 " I go to-morrow at noon ; I have much to say 
 to you. Walk with me in the morning, Sylvia." 
 
 " I will," she said ; then, looking full in my 
 face, she repeated, " I will, dear Gaston," with 
 such full confidence, that every good feeling in 
 my heart rose up on her behalf. 
 
 I spent the night planning for her welfare. 
 How the bright dew-shine and the opening- 
 flowers and blue sky smote my heart. The shafts 
 of light through the awakening trees were so 
 many swords piercing it; but when I met my 
 lost love, strength came to me from her. I 
 silently passed her arm through mine, and held 
 her hand in mine, and so we walked a turn or 
 two; the close contact calming me with love, 
 unselfish love, whose consummation is self-sacrifice. 
 At last Sylvia spoke. 
 
 " You go to day at noon ? " 
 
 " I go or stay, whichever can best serve you, 
 but before I go let us speak freely, friends still, 
 Sylvia?"
 
 GASTON BLIGH. 319 
 
 " Friends still," she murmured. 
 
 " I have not troubled you ? I have not added 
 to your trials? May I speak to you of them and 
 of my yesterday's self as one gone for ever ?" 
 
 « Say all, Gaston." 
 
 " Dear one, friend, when I came out to-day I 
 thought of making some last appeal — I knew not 
 what — of searching your heart and speaking selfish 
 wishes for your future ; but since I have been at 
 your side I think God has smiled on both of us 
 and purified my heart : true love can never do 
 otherwise than purify." I waited for a word, but 
 she did not speak, so I went on : 
 
 " Sylvia, I am right : your present life is too 
 hard for you — you of all others cannot bear isola- 
 tion. God help me ! I dreamt of ofi:ermg my 
 love as some avail — I dreamt that hand in hand 
 we might enter Paradise: but now, what is to 
 become of us — of you, ground down by hopeless 
 life — letting youth and boundless capacity for 
 noble affection slip through nerveless fingers, till, 
 when all is wasted. Death comes too late to save. 
 Sylvia, rather than this I could — but no— I have
 
 320 GASTON BLIGH. 
 
 not strength for that. Is there no help? Show 
 me some light." 
 
 She answered very low, " God's will be done !" 
 then more firmly, " You are wrong, friend, in 
 thinking my life is sad. There is enough for 
 me to do ; there is enough reward for all I have 
 to do. Dear Gaston, I will speak frankly — you 
 were very generous in offering your love to me, 
 but — I am old, and you are young comparatively. 
 I am happy, Gaston ; do not think otherwise, and 
 you will always be my friend in life, and then " 
 
 "You are happy? Pardon my presumption. 
 How blind I've been — I thought — well, I will 
 not cross your path, or trouble your happiness 
 again. For myself — but no matter, I am young, 
 and there is enough for me to do and enough 
 reward. See I have learnt your phrases, mean- 
 time pardon my mistake — I thought — but it's 
 well — God bless you, for all that, Sylvia — I will 
 still be your friend, though I hold no service in 
 my hand." 
 
 " Do not be ungenerous," she said slowly, and 
 with painful efibrt. " Help me, Gaston. I know
 
 GASTOy BLIGH. 321 
 
 you will. Don't let us put a barrier between us. 
 There is still much that we may have in common." 
 
 " In common ! " I began impetaously. " How 
 you degrade life, Sylvia ! " 
 
 She took my hand so wildly, so imploringly, 
 that I stopped, suddenly calmed. 
 
 " And if I do," she said, ^' is it noble of you to 
 reproach me ? oh, if my mother were but near ! '* 
 
 How her tired hands and pale face reproached 
 me. I toolu her to a seat near, and knelt by her, 
 and comforted and strengthened her as I could ; 
 though each word seemed impossible, till uttered. 
 
 And we spoke of what remained for us in life, ' 
 with calm — for me, she said, there was much to 
 do of labour, for my tenants and dependants; 
 and perhaps for many more if oui' dreams of 
 my advancement came true. And now I was 
 to go and read, and catch up lost time; making 
 my hoped-for first-class a sort of light, to lighten 
 my night. We did not speak much of her future, 
 nor did the word happiness occur once in our 
 discourse, but we grew stronger in talk of duty 
 and right ; and half-accustomed to the shadow, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 aASTON BLIGH. 
 
 that was for ever to be between us. We could 
 not measure its depth while we were together. 
 
 And so we found ourselves near the church- 
 yard, which was in the grounds, and looking 
 at me to follow, Sylvia went to her mother's 
 grave. There we knelt together, and Sylvia 
 said, " Our Father," and I joined for love of her. 
 
 Noon came, and I went with my mother in the 
 midday train. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.