II B RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVE.RSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 P369v 
 v. I
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/veryoldquestionn01pemb
 
 A VERY OLD QUESTION 
 
 & jjtoatl. 
 
 BY 
 
 T. EDGAR PEMBERTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "UNDER PRESSURE," •" DICKENS'S LONDON, 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 For, 'tis a question left us yet to prove, 
 Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love." 
 
 Hamlet — Act iii, Scene ii. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 'gonbon : 
 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY, 
 
 io, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 1877. 
 
 {All Rights Reserved.) 
 
 V
 
 P3&9v 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 I. CHRISTMAS EVE - - - - 1 
 
 II. CHRISTMAS DAY - - - - - 80 
 
 III. NEW YEAR'S EVE - - - - 50 
 
 IV. ANOTHER HOLIDAY - - - - - 61 
 V. A PREMATURE PROPOSAL 84 
 
 VI. DOWN AT KERIDEN - - - - 119 
 
 VII. AT THE FOOT OF THE SOUTH DOWNS - 140 
 
 VIII. FRESH FACES- - - - - - 158 
 
 IX. A FAIR FACE- /- - - - - 198 
 
 X. MINNIE TRY AN - - - - -219 
 
 XI. HAMMOND UNDERTAKES A TRUST - - 252 

 
 A VERY OLD QUESTION. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 It had been raining hard all day, and the 
 streets of the good city of London were as 
 wet, dirty, sloppy and uncomfortable as at 
 such times those streets alone can be. Cabs 
 and omnibuses, as they rattled along, be- 
 spattered the luckless foot-passengers with 
 showers of liquid mud ; wet umbrellas jostled 
 hopelessly together on the footpaths, and 
 added to, rather than alleviated, the general 
 misery. Every public conveyance was 1 
 crammed to suffocation, and every living crea- 
 ture in the streets was more or less wet 
 through ; and yet there were very few among 
 the crowds who thronged the shops and the 
 vol. I. 1 
 
 I
 
 A Very Old Question. 
 
 thoroughfares whose faces did not wear a 
 look of jollity and good humour, as though 
 they regarded the discomfiture more as a joke 
 than as anything else. 
 
 On only one night of the three hundred 
 and sixty-five, which together make a Chris- 
 tian year, would such pitiless rain be regarded 
 as anything but a great affliction and a thing 
 at which to growl and grumble. What need 
 to say that it was Christmas Eve ? and un- 
 comfortable as was undoubtedly the state of 
 the weather to the thousands who were out 
 making their purchases for the coming holi- 
 day, one might yet see in the faces of some a 
 lurking expression which told that in them at 
 any rate it only heightened the anticipation 
 of that indoor comfort with which Christmas 
 time must ever be associated. On no other 
 night would any one have borne with the 
 same good humour the amount of crowding, 
 pushing and slipping, of umbrella-dripping 
 and such like, as were borne on that wet 
 Christmas Eve. On no other night would 
 the crushing of a hat, or the wetting through 
 of a coat, have been regarded as a thing at 
 which to laugh. But every one was preparing
 
 Christmas Eve. 3 
 
 for a holiday, and every one felt that it was a 
 time for jollity ; every one knew that the wet 
 working clothes would that night be put aside 
 for the better garments which lay at home, 
 and that therefore a little extra moisture 
 was no great matter ; while not a few felt 
 that Christmas was the time to look on the 
 bright side of everything, a time in which 
 to feel thankful for blessings rather than for 
 dwelling upon grievances ; and so the steadily 
 falling rain and the ever gathering mud were 
 less reviled than they had been on almost any 
 day of the fast waning year. 
 
 The description of London shops on a 
 Christmas Eve is a familiar one, and so their 
 appearance need not here be dwelt upon. 
 There they were — garnished and decked as 
 usual — flashing across the wet streets their 
 bright lights, and offering to all who had 
 money in their pockets their thousand temp- 
 tations and snares. Ah ! it was the sight of 
 those who had none which made the heart 
 ache, and here and there, it must be confessed, 
 the spectacle of some rain-saturated, mud-be- 
 draggled creature, cowering in a corner or 
 gazing wistfully at the bright warm shops, 
 
 1—2
 
 A Very Old Question. 
 
 seemed to take from the scene all heart and 
 merriment, and made one wonder to what good 
 even Christmas tended if year after year went 
 by, and such sad lives were still lived in the 
 midst of so much comfort and wealth ! 
 
 But perhaps after all the wet night was 
 in a way good for these poor creatures, for 
 hardly a living soul could pass them, as he 
 hurried to his own fireside, without bestowing 
 some trifle, even if in doing so he denied 
 himself some little meditated luxury or joy. 
 
 Yes — it was Christmas Eve — and all the 
 force of the cold December rain could not 
 quench that glow of love and happiness 
 which in most English hearts held its place 
 that night. 
 
 The streets were so noisy and crowded 
 that one could hardly hear the heavy pat- 
 tering of the rain drops, but stepping out of 
 the main thoroughfare and standing for a 
 moment in a quiet bye way such as America 
 Square, Minories, one could tell what a woful 
 night it really was, and hence could appreciate 
 tenfold the comforts of shelter and warmth. 
 
 Most of those houses in America Square 
 which were used as warehouses or offices were
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
 already closed, and their proprietors gone to 
 their homes ; but in one set of offices lights 
 were still burning, and the occupier of the 
 principal room was yet at his desk hard at 
 work. This man was one Godfrey Northover, 
 whose name, coupled with the designation 
 " Export and General Merchant," was painted 
 on the outer door. 
 
 Godfrey Northover was a tall and an in- 
 tellectual looking man of forty-five years of 
 age, but his pale face bore the traces of years 
 of hard work and anxious thought. He was 
 a man (whose parents having died when he 
 was yet a boy, leaving him wholly unprovided 
 for) who had step by step, and by one un- 
 deviating course of hard work and self-denial 
 worked his way to his present position. From 
 office boy he had risen to be clerk, from clerk to 
 cashier, and from cashier to be principal. In 
 all that he had undertaken he had been as 
 successful as a cautious, able, conscientious 
 man can be ; and if his money and his posi- 
 tion had not been made quickly, it had at 
 least been secured on a sound basis. But 
 though Godfrey Northover had done all this 
 for himself, he never acknowledged to himself
 
 6 A Very Old Question. 
 
 how much he had done, and he never plumed 
 himself on his own success. When a young 
 man he had suffered much from poverty, and 
 so he had set himself to realise a competency ; 
 yet though he had succeeded so well, that at 
 the age of forty he had made sufficient money 
 to ensure for himself, his wife and his only 
 child comfort, if not affluence, for the re- 
 mainder of their lives, he had never for one 
 moment allowed himself to relax from his 
 fixed rules of rigid economy and unceasing 
 work. 
 
 Nothing succeeds like success, and nothing 
 gets money so quickly as money itself, and 
 accordingly in the next five years Northover 
 had doubled, trebled and quadrupled his 
 capital, and at the time when this story opens 
 was in a fair way to do the like over and over 
 again. 
 
 Yet still he worked on, and though all his 
 friends knew that he was doing well, no one, 
 not even his wife, knew what he was really 
 worth. To what it all tended was a ques- 
 tion which, if he ever gave himself time 
 to consider the matter at all, he might well 
 have asked himself.
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
 He was not a miser — that is to say he cared 
 nothing for money for the mere sake of the 
 possession of it — and yet apparently he could 
 take no pleasure in the spending of it. 
 
 The idea which all through his life he had 
 held before him was that, his fortune being 
 made, he would give up business and, being in 
 possession of a handsome income, would take 
 a fine place and reward his wife for all her 
 years of parsimony and endurance. But as 
 the time came when he felt that he was in a 
 position to carry out these plans, the very 
 idea of them became to him hateful. The 
 thought that the money which he, pound by 
 pound, had put together — and how hardly at 
 one time each pound had been earned he 
 alone knew — should be wasted in extrava- 
 gance was to him terrible indeed ! 
 
 Unnecessary expenditure, and the squan- 
 dering of money in unnecessary luxuries, 
 were things most hateful to him, and he 
 almost shuddered when he thought that he 
 might perhaps one day come to lead the frivo- 
 lous and extravagant life of many of his City 
 neighbours. 
 
 His life had been one of toil and anxiety,
 
 8 A Very Old Question. 
 
 but for him it had had also its enjoy merits, for in 
 the growth of his business and wealth, and in 
 the knowledge that by his own industry he 
 had made himself independent, his pleasure 
 had been ; and so he had learned to love 
 his office and the work which had become 
 now his life. 
 
 If Godfrey Northover had been an un- 
 married man, he would probably never have 
 dreamt of any other future, but to the last 
 would have gone on working, and would, as 
 he had lived, have died in harness ; but no 
 small impetus to his life of labour had been 
 the sense of the duty which he owed to his 
 wife and his child, and that same sense would 
 now sometimes set him wondering whether, 
 for their sakes, he must not soon meditate 
 that launch in life which he had held always 
 before him. 
 
 Some such thoughts as these had been in 
 his mind on the afternoon of that Christmas 
 Eve of which I write, and he had frequently 
 looked up from his work and had allowed 
 his eyes to dwell on the familiar objects in 
 the dingy office, regarding them as the possi- 
 bility of parting from them for ever rose up
 
 Christmas Eve. 9 
 
 before him, with a lingering look of affec- 
 tion. 
 
 At six o'clock in the evening the office-door 
 opened, and Godfrey Northover's clerk and 
 assistant presented himself to him. This 
 same clerk was no other than Godfrey North- 
 over's own brother, but, being altogether of a 
 different nature to him, while the elder of the 
 two had, as we have seen, prospered and ad- 
 vanced, the younger, if he had not absolutely 
 stood still, had made quite as many steps 
 backward as he had forward, and had there- 
 fore for many years cheerfully accepted a 
 situation as clerk in the flourishing business 
 of his brother. 
 
 Anthony Northover was a very different 
 looking man to the tall, pale, dark-haired. 
 Godfrey, being short, stout, fair, and with a 
 merry, jovial-looking face. 
 
 There was affection between the brothers, 
 though the admiration with which Anthony 
 regarded Godfrey very nearly approached 
 awe ; but it was hardly possible that between 
 two men so differently constituted, much inti- 
 macy should exist. 
 
 Godfrey was by no means selfish, and when
 
 10 A Very Old Question. 
 
 he first began to get on in the world he had 
 sent lor his brother that he might share his 
 opportunities with him. But it had been of 
 no use. Anthony had loved pleasure, and 
 directly he had made a pound had never been 
 content until he had spent it. He had no 
 ambition other than to lead a happy life and 
 to be at peace with his fellow-creatures, and 
 at one time he had continually remonstrated 
 with Godfrey for his economy, and for the 
 stern view which he took of life. 
 
 If the business happened to be more than 
 usually successful, Anthony would immedi- 
 ately suggest a holiday — to use his own 
 words, " on the strength of it ;" if things 
 went wrong, and a bad debt were made, he 
 would endeavour to turn the matter into a 
 joke ; and these things had so exasperated 
 the plodding, matter-of-fact Godfrey, that a 
 quarrel between the brothers and partners had 
 been imminent, and would, without doubt, 
 have taken place, had they not had the good 
 sense to tell each other quietly that they held 
 different views, and so part on friendly terms. 
 
 And then Anthony, having left his brother, 
 had tried his hand at a hundred different
 
 Christmas Eve. 11 
 
 things, at all of which he had failed ; but 
 " better luck next time " being his continued 
 motto, he had, after each failure, and with 
 fresh hopes and renewed good humour, set him- 
 self to work at something else. 
 
 But poor Anthony was a rolling stone, and 
 for him no moss had ever accumulated ; and, 
 notwithstanding his good humour and con- 
 tentment — qualities which in him were uni- 
 versally admired, and contrasted favourably 
 with the characteristics of his brother — a crash 
 at last had come, in which he had lost all his 
 worldly belongings, and in which he, his wife 
 and his family, had been reduced to beggary. 
 
 At this time Godfrey had stretched out a 
 helping hand, and Anthony had become, at a 
 fixed salary, a clerk in the business in which 
 once he had been a partner. 
 
 " Well," said Godfrey, looking up from his 
 work and addressing his brother, " did you 
 want me T 
 
 " No," said Anthony ; " I came to see if you 
 w r ould want me any more — it's six o'clock." 
 
 " And what of that ?" asked his brother. 
 
 " Why, I was thinking of going— Christmas 
 Eve, you know, brother."
 
 12 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Christmas Eve," said Godfrey, " except 
 that in consideration of tne next day being 
 a holiday I generally work later than usual, 
 makes no difference to me. But go if you 
 like, Anthony, and if you have made every- 
 thing ready to go." 
 
 " Quite ready," said Anthony. " God- 
 frey » 
 
 " Well r 
 
 " I'm afraid I must ask you to allow me to 
 draw a little on account of next year." 
 
 "You have overdrawn for this year, al- 
 ready," said Godfrey, referring to a "book. 
 " What a pity it is, Anthony, that you cannot 
 learn to live within your income." 
 
 "I know, I know," said Anthony, "and 
 next year I mean to make a fresh start, upon 
 my word I shall. But this is Christmas-time, 
 brother, and the youngsters expect a bit of a 
 treat, and I haven't got a sixpence left, upon 
 my soul I haven't !" 
 
 " And in the face of that," cried Godfrey, 
 " you would go and spend borrowed money in 
 useless luxuries and junketings. Can you 
 call such a course honest, Anthony ?" 
 
 Poor Anthony hung his head, and feebly
 
 Christmas Eve. 13 
 
 murmured something about " Christmas- 
 time." 
 
 " If Christmas-time/' said Godfrey, " is to 
 be an excuse for a man to run into debt for 
 the new year, I think that the sooner it is 
 done away with the better. If I did what 
 was right, Anthony, and what was kind to 
 you, I should give you nothing ; but — how 
 much do you want V 
 
 Anthony named a sum, and Godfrey, going 
 to his safe, counted out, on the desk, the 
 exact half of it, made an entry in a book, and 
 bade his brother " Good night." 
 
 " Good night, brother," said Anthony, 
 gathering up the coins. " I suppose it is no 
 use wishing you a merry Christmas ¥' 
 
 " I never see that it is a much merrier time 
 than any other," said Godfrey ; " but I have 
 no time to discuss that now, even if I under- 
 stood the subject, which I do not. Good 
 night." 
 
 Once out of his brother's presence, Anthony 
 Northover's face assumed a radiant appear- 
 ance, and he seemed fully to grasp the glorious 
 fact that it was Christmas-time. He was not 
 so much disappointed at receiving only half
 
 14 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the sum of money for which he had asked as 
 the reader might imagine ; for, being used to 
 his brother's tactics in this respect, he invari- 
 ably made it a rule to ask for very much more 
 than he expected to get, and this time the 
 result had surpassed his most sanguine hopes. 
 
 His first act, after having changed, in his 
 own office, his coat, was to descend to the 
 regions of the packing-rooms, where materials 
 for a bowl of punch had already been prepared 
 by the warehousemen and packers, and with 
 which he immediately set to work. 
 
 These materials, by the way, he had ordered 
 to be provided prior to his interview with his 
 brother, and how, unless he had succeeded in 
 obtaining the money for which he had then 
 asked, they would have been paid for, was a 
 matter which he had not even once stayed to 
 consider, such being poor Anthony's practice 
 in most matters of finance. 
 
 As it was, however, he willingly paid for 
 them out of one of Godfrey's coins, and 
 having mixed the brew, and "set the men 
 going," as he said, he took his departure with 
 a hearty hand-shake all round, and a " merry 
 Christmas" from each one.
 
 Christmas Eve. 15 
 
 " All !" said a porter, "Mr. Anthony's some- 
 thing like a gentleman, he is. Catch old 
 Godfrey standing us anything like this !" 
 
 And yet it was " old Godfrey " who had 
 in reality paid for the cheering beverage in 
 which they drank to his amendment and to 
 Mr. Anthony's " jolly good health." 
 
 Mr. Anthony, meanwhile, having emerged 
 into the wet streets, became the merriest of 
 all the merry Christmas throng, flitting from 
 shop to shop, and making his purchases with 
 that keen enjoyment which seems to be best 
 attained by those who know that they have 
 got their money by a stroke of good fortune 
 rather than by careful providence, or quiet 
 thought. 
 
 Be this as it may, however, Anthony North- 
 over as he bustled about the shops in Aldgate 
 was certainly a pleasant picture, and one 
 which possibly had its effect at cheering the 
 heart, that night, of many a less sanguine 
 man. With a joke for every one, and a glass 
 for all his friends, who seemed to be nume- 
 rous, he went from butcher's to grocer's, from 
 grocer's to wine and spirit merchant's, and 
 from thence to the toy-shop ; and when at
 
 16 A Very Old Question. 
 
 last he stood in the drenching rain, presenting, 
 on account of the stowage about his person of 
 all his packages, a most uncouth figure, and 
 waiting for the omnibus which was to convey 
 him to his home in the Mile End Road, a 
 jollier or happier looking spectacle could hardly 
 have been imagined. 
 
 Godfrey Northover, on the other hand, 
 having at length finished his work, closed his 
 books and his desk, and fell into deep thought; 
 and his thoughts led him to the following 
 determination : 
 
 The new year, now so near at hand, should 
 be his last of work, and the next Christmas 
 Eve should be one of the last days of his long 
 years of toil and labour in that time-stained, 
 business-like office. 
 
 Yes, he would allow himself but one more 
 year of the work which he loved, and then, 
 for the sake of his wife and daughter, he 
 would commence a new mode of life. 
 
 Having fully made this resolution, and 
 having made also a business-like note to that 
 effect, Godfrey Northover prepared to leave. 
 Before doing so, however, he had to unlock 
 and examine every drawer, cupboard, and safe
 
 Christmas Eve. 17 
 
 in the office, and see that all was made 
 secure ; for on the next day he would not be 
 there. 
 
 To this task he applied himself almost 
 lovingly, lingering fondly over books and 
 papers, and locking and re-locking several 
 times all the doors and drawers, in order to 
 satisfy himself of their perfect security. At 
 length, with the exception of one drawer at 
 the bottom of an old wooden press which 
 occupied one end of the room, he had com- 
 pleted his task. It had apparently been his 
 intention to leave this drawer untouched, for 
 he had his hat and overcoat on before he 
 hesitated, turned back, hesitated again, and 
 then unlocked and opened it. 
 
 Very different were the contents of this 
 drawer to those which he had lately opened. 
 Instead of the strongly-bound office books, 
 and carefully docketted packets of letters and 
 papers, there, lay here nothing but some dozen 
 or more yards of blue silk. 
 
 Godfrey Northover lifted the parcel from 
 the drawer, and laying it on the office table, 
 pondered over it, as though his mind was un- 
 decided. 
 
 vol. I. 2
 
 18 A Very Old Question. 
 
 On the outside of the parcel was a label, 
 bearing, in his own hand-writing, a date of 
 many years before ; and it was to that time 
 that his thoughts had wandered. 
 
 How well he remembered going home on 
 one Christmas Eve, and his wife producing 
 and showing him this very parcel of blue 
 silk, which she, poor thing, had bought out 
 of the little sums which, from what she 
 had been allowed for her housekeeping ex- 
 penses, she had from time to time been able 
 to save. 
 
 How well he remembered that he, firm in 
 his purpose of economy, had chided her, and 
 had told her that silk dresses did not become 
 persons in their station of life, and that it was 
 his duty to take it from her, and not allow 
 her to wear it. How well he remembered 
 the tears and the entreaties which had fol- 
 lowed, and how that their Christmas had 
 been rendered even more gloomy than usual 
 on account of her disappointment and his un- 
 altered purpose. How well he remembered 
 carrying the parcel down to his office and 
 locking it in the drawer, where ever since it 
 had lain.
 
 Christmas Eve. 19 
 
 The question which he asked himself to- 
 night, was whether the time had now come 
 when he might allow his wife to appear in 
 silk attire, and whether he should carry home 
 to her that which for so long he had kept 
 from her; and as he thought of the happy 
 look which such an act on his part would 
 bring to her face, he was half tempted so to 
 do. 
 
 But old habit and old prejudice were as 
 yet too strong within him, and the silk was at 
 length replaced in its dark receptacle, and 
 the key once more turned upon it. 
 
 " Another year," said he, " and Jane shall 
 wear what she chooses, and spend what she 
 likes. For the present let me remain firm in 
 the resolutions which have brought so much 
 to me." 
 
 And then Godfrey Northover set out on his 
 Christmas Eve journey homewards. 
 
 Unlike Anthony, however, he had no pur- 
 chases to make or friends with whom he cared 
 to meet, and so through the muddy streets he 
 splashed steadily on, wholly uninterrupted 
 and unmoved by any of the shops, save when 
 every now and again a sigh escaped him, as 
 
 2—2
 
 20 A Very Old Question. 
 
 he thought of the fearful waste of money which 
 everywhere seemed to be going on. 
 
 'Bus conductors and cab drivers accosted 
 him in vain. Godfrey Northover had been 
 but seldom in an omnibus, and still less often 
 in a cab, during the course of his life ; and, 
 what was more, he thoroughly despised those 
 who made it a habit to ride to and from their 
 business. 
 
 Buttoning his spare great-coat closely round 
 him, and holding his cotton umbrella close 
 down over his head, he walked on, thinking 
 as little of the inclemency of the weather as of 
 the bustle, excitement, and hilarity of those 
 around him. 
 
 His way lay through some of the busiest 
 and the gayest of the City streets — through 
 Aldgate and Leadenhall Street, along Corn- 
 hill, up Cheapside, flashing its brilliant shop- 
 lights across the wet roadway, turning to the 
 right up Aldersgate Street, and so into a 
 number of quiet streets, until he emerged at 
 length in Islington, and there picked his way 
 through the mud into Gibson Square, hard by 
 the Liverpool Boad, in which was the house 
 he called his home. 
 
 i
 
 Christmas Eve. 21 
 
 The door was opened to him by his wife, a 
 pale, gentle-looking creature, and one who 
 seemed to stand continually in need of some 
 encouragement to induce her to be more than 
 the timid retiring lady that all her friends and 
 neighbours supposed her to be. 
 
 " Oh, Godfrey," she said, " you are wet 
 through ! What a terrible Christmas Eve it 
 is. I feel so sorry for the hundreds of poor 
 creatures who are out to-night. " 
 
 " Better for them to get wet on a Christ- 
 mas Eve than on any other night," returned 
 he ; " for those who take cold will have a 
 chance of doctoring themselves to-morrow 
 without wasting valuable time. The wet may 
 be the means too of keeping some at home to- 
 night who otherwise would be out spending 
 more money than they can afford." 
 
 "But, Godfrey," said his wife, ''every- 
 body expects to enjoy themselves at Christmas 
 time." 
 
 " Just so," replied he, " only people have 
 different ideas of what constitutes enjoyment. 
 The popular idea is that it lies in spending 
 money on useless luxuries. I do not believe 
 in it."
 
 22 A Very Old Question. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Northover, as she followed her 
 husband upstairs, looked very much as though 
 she would very much like a little of that 
 popular delusion (if delusion it were) infused 
 into her own life, but she was too good a wife 
 and loved too well her husband, who, she 
 knew, worked more for her sake than for his 
 own, to discuss with him the matter, and so 
 set herself to work reaching for him dry 
 clothes from his somewhat scanty wardrobe. 
 
 As the husband and wife descended the 
 stairs together, a merry laugh reached their 
 ears from that room which did duty alike for 
 dining, drawing, and general sitting-room. 
 
 " Is that Gertrude V he asked. 
 
 " Yes, Godfrey," she said; "it is pleasant 
 to hear her when she is so happy, is it 
 not r 
 
 " Yes it is," he answered, e< very pleasant. 
 What is she doing ?" 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Northover, timidly, " you 
 must not be vexed, Godfrey. She is decorat- 
 ing the house a little." 
 
 " With — with green stuff ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, with a little mistletoe and holly." 
 
 " Who paid for it, Jane ?"
 
 Christmas Eve. 23 
 
 " I did, Godfrey. The dear girl begged so 
 hard because of to-morrow, and it only cost 
 a few pence, which I can well save in some 
 other way. Now please, Godfrey, do not be 
 vexed, or the girl's enjoyment will be quite 
 spoiled, and it is Christmas time." 
 
 " No, no, Jane," he said, " I will not be 
 vexed. You did quite right ; — only," he 
 added to himself, as they entered the room, 
 " I do wish that people could enjoy them- 
 selves at Christmas time without flinging 
 money about in such foolish ways." 
 
 But even Godfrey Northover could afford 
 to smile, and perhaps too, when he saw his 
 young daughter, happy in her simple efforts 
 to beautify her not over-attractive home, he 
 felt that he had his money's worth. 
 
 She was standing on the top of a rather 
 ricketty pair of steps arranging, over the top 
 of one of the few pictures which decorated 
 the walls, the mistletoe and holly. 
 
 The steps were being held and prevented 
 from falling by an awkward, though good- 
 tempered looking "general servant," and 
 Gertrude's laughter had evidently been oc- 
 casioned by this handmaiden's extraordinary
 
 24 A Very Old Question, 
 
 contortions as she endeavoured, while steady- 
 ing the steps with one hand, to reach for her 
 young mistress with the other a piece of 
 evergreen which, under the circumstances, was 
 too far away. 
 
 Gertrude Northover was nineteen years of 
 age, with a disposition as light as her face was 
 beautiful, and with a figure the graces of 
 which the rigid simplicity of her dress en- 
 hanced rather than lessened. 
 
 As she stood there, with her bright brown 
 eyes sparkling with merriment, her jet black 
 hair pushed back from her fair young brow, 
 with the flush of excitement upon her cheek, 
 with her dress tucked-up and pinned about 
 her, leaving thus exposed to view the daintiest 
 of little feet and ankles, it is no wonder that 
 her father's heart swelled with pride, and that 
 he felt happy ; but with the happiness with 
 which he regarded his beautiful daughter 
 came also the thought of the responsibility 
 which she was to him, and how, therefore, 
 before all things it behoved him to place far 
 away from the possibility of hardship or want 
 so sweet and innocent a young creature ; and 
 so before it had been allowed to dwell
 
 Christmas Eve. 25 
 
 there, the smile had passed away from his 
 face. 
 
 " Oh, father," said Gertrude, " do reach 
 that piece of holly for Mary Ann. If we go 
 on like this, laughing instead of working, we 
 shall never get done to-night. Now, haven't 
 I made the room look pretty ? Do say that 
 it looks pretty, father." 
 
 " It looks very pretty, Gertrude/' he said, 
 •' so pretty that it seems a pity that these 
 things should fade and become worthless." 
 
 " Oh, but everyone has holly at Christ- 
 mas !" said she. 
 
 And after that her father said no more, 
 though to himself he marvelled what it was 
 that people saw in Christmas to render ex- 
 travagance not only justifiable, but, as it just 
 then seemed to him, even desirable. 
 
 Shortly after this the family party — that 
 is, Mr. and Mrs. Northover, and Gertrude — 
 sat down to supper, a frugal meal of bread 
 and cheese, and a limited quantity of table- 
 beer. The banquet could hardly have been 
 termed a convivial one, for all partook of it 
 sparingly, and there was- little or no conver- 
 sation; yet a shrewd observer might have
 
 26 A Very Old Question. 
 
 detected in the face of Godfrey Northover an 
 enjoyment in the simplicity of the repast 
 which no extravagant outlay could have given 
 him, and a pleasant twinkle in the bright 
 eyes of Gertrude, which told that she was 
 dwelling happily on some expected pleasure, 
 even the anticipation of which was com- 
 pensating for the dulness of the present 
 time. 
 
 Directly supper was over, she kissed her 
 father and mother, and bidding them good- 
 night, left the room. 
 
 Left alone with his wife, Godfrey drew his 
 chair close up to the dying fire, and occupied 
 himself with his thoughts. 
 
 " Shall I make up the fire V asked Mrs. 
 Northover. "You seem cold, Godfrey." 
 
 " No, no," he said stretching out his arm to 
 stop her. " The fire will last until we go to 
 bed." 
 
 " Will you take anything, then f she 
 asked. 
 
 " Nothing," he said ; and then, after a 
 pause, " will — will you, wife ?" 
 
 u Oh, no," she said with a smile, " I want 
 nothing. I have been indoors all day. But
 
 Christmas Eve. 27 
 
 for you, walking home through the drenching 
 rain as you have done, surely you must feel 
 to want something V 
 
 " I want nothing," he replied. " Perhaps 
 my nature is different to other people's, for I 
 seldom do seem to require what others do. 
 But you, Jane : it is quite possible that you 
 may want more than I do. In such case you 
 would take it, would you not ? You have all 
 you want, Jane ?" 
 
 He spoke as though in doubt, but her 
 cheerful, " Oh, yes, Godfrey !" reassured him, 
 and he went on : 
 
 " I am sure, Jane, that I have no reason to 
 tell you that my economy — that my desire to 
 make and save money — is all for your sake 
 and Gertrude's. For myself, I have no use 
 for money, but the thought that you and she 
 might come to want is terrible to me." 
 
 " Godfrey," said his wife, " I know well 
 that a better husband and a better father 
 than yourself never lived, and if I sometimes 
 feel to wish that you would spend rather 
 more money on worldly comforts, it is because 
 I am but a weak woman ; and it is, no doubt, 
 well for me that I have a husband who knows
 
 28 A Very Old Question. 
 
 better than I do what is best for us both, and 
 for our child." 
 
 " Then you do sometimes wish that we 
 could spend more than we do V he asked. 
 
 " Yes — sometimes." 
 
 " On what V 
 
 " Godfrey, you will think me foolish, I dare- 
 say, but I should like, now that Gertrude is 
 growing up, to keep a little company. I 
 should like to see Gertrude rather more taste- 
 fully dressed than she is, and I should like 
 you to enjoy your life more than you do. Be- 
 sides/' she added with a blush, " perhaps I 
 am vain enough to wish that I could dress 
 rather better and spend rather more money 
 myself." 
 
 Her husband rose from his chair, and paced 
 uneasily and impatiently up and down the 
 room. 
 
 11 Oh, you are not angry, Godfrey ?" asked 
 she. 
 
 " No," he said, coming to her and taking 
 her by the hand, "not angry. In a short 
 time, my wife, all that you could wish for 
 shall be yours ; maybe in a shorter time than 
 you dream of. And in the meantime "
 
 Christmas Eve. 29 
 
 u In the meantime, Godfrey, I will be con- 
 tent in having everything that is really neces- 
 sary for life, and happy in being bound to one 
 whom I can trust as implicitly as I do you." 
 
 And then, the fire having burnt out, the 
 husband and wife went upstairs to bed.
 
 30 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 The home of Godfrey Northover was con- 
 ducted on principles so strictly economical, 
 that, though the house was small, he only 
 reserved a portion of it for the requirements 
 of his own family. 
 
 " One sitting room," he said, " was enough 
 for any family, and why people wanted more 
 lie could not imagine." 
 
 And so the upstairs room, which, under a 
 less severe rule, would have done duty as a 
 drawing-room, had in conjunction with one 
 of the best bedrooms, been portioned off and 
 let as " apartments ;" while, at the time of 
 which we write even another bedroom had 
 heen added to the suite, and the rooms were 
 occupied by two young medical students.
 
 Christmas Day. . 31 
 
 These two young gentlemen will take promi- 
 nent parts in this history, and therefore 
 deserve a little consideration. 
 
 Hammond Kockcliffe, the elder of the two, 
 was about twenty-three years of age, a good- 
 looking young man, and a gentleman by birth, 
 education, and in bearing, but one who could 
 hardly be said at any time to have done him- 
 self justice. 
 
 The fault of this lay probably more in the 
 nature of his bringing up, and was due more 
 to force of circumstance than to any natural 
 defect in his own character. 
 
 The only child of indulgent parents, he had 
 had when a boy his every wish granted, and 
 had grown up to manhood with the idea that 
 his future was all provided for, and that there- 
 fore he had no need to trouble himself about 
 work of any kind. His father was a man of 
 high family connections, but, in the matter of 
 his marriage, had unfortunately given to all 
 his friends great offence. He had been a 
 clergyman in the possession of a good living, 
 but being of an easy and pleasure-loving nature, 
 he had allowed the best years of his life to
 
 32 A Very Old Question. 
 
 pass by without having saved anything from 
 his annual income. 
 
 When his son Hammond was twenty years 
 of age, he had died suddenly, leaving his 
 affairs in so involved a condition that when 
 they had paid off all creditors, and thus pre- 
 vented the family name from falling into dis- 
 repute, his wealthy relations thought that 
 they had done their duty towards the widow 
 and her son, and having settled upon the 
 mother a very small annual income, they told 
 young Hammond that he must turn his atten- 
 tion to earning his daily bread. 
 
 To such a course Hammond had no objection, 
 although it will be allowed that for a young 
 man to be called suddenly from his college 
 where he believed himself to be rich, and 
 where he was living up to his belief, the trial 
 was a severe one ; and had he been at once 
 thrown upon his own resources he would pro- 
 bably have made a good, useful, and clever 
 man, for his abilities were great ; but the 
 Eockcliffes were a proud family, and though 
 his relatives by no means put their purses at 
 the young man's disposal, they at once in- 
 timated to him that, on account of the name
 
 Christmas Day. 33 
 
 which he bore, they wished to have a voice in 
 the selection of his career. 
 
 The head of the family at that time was his 
 father's elder brother, Gregory Rockcliffe, the 
 occupier of the family seat, and owner of 
 the family acres in Staffordshire ; and Uncle 
 Gregory at once expressed his desire that 
 Hammond should take holy orders, in which 
 event he promised to use his influence to 
 obtain for him a curacy ; but Hammond, 
 young as he was, had formed opinions of his 
 own, and he told his uncle that it was his 
 intention to try his luck in the world of com- 
 merce. 
 
 This of course could not be heard of, and 
 after much angry discussion, Hammond had 
 yielded to his mother's entreaties and counsel 
 not to throw away the only chance of help 
 which he had in the world ; and hence by his 
 consenting to become a doctor, the matter had 
 been compromised, and he had at once gone 
 to London to commence his studies. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, he was not so suc- 
 cessful with these studies as he might have 
 been, and, as it must be confessed, he ought 
 to have been. The fact of receiving monetary 
 
 vol. i. 3
 
 34 A Very Old Question. 
 
 help, and, as he said, of being patronised by 
 bis uncle, went sorely against the grain with 
 him, and made him careless where he ought 
 to have been painstaking and diligent. The 
 result was that at the age of three and twenty, 
 he had neither succeeded in obtaining his 
 diploma nor in pleasing his relatives. He 
 was, however, on the whole a steady fellow, 
 and at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, to which he 
 was attached, was very popular ; for though his 
 manner was somewhat brusque, he was known 
 to be genuine, and his kind-heartedness to- 
 wards the poorer of his patients, and towards 
 all who were suffering, was unbounded. 
 
 His means were of course very limited. 
 His mother had died shortly after his father, 
 and had had little or nothing to leave him, but 
 his Uncle Gregory still professed to be his 
 guardian and patron, and as he was well 
 known to the doctors of St. Bartholomew's, he 
 had afforded him certain opportunities of 
 earning money, and so in one way or another, 
 for luckily for himself his worldly requirements 
 seemed to be small, he managed to rub along. 
 
 The second occupant of Godfrey Northover's 
 rooms, and the sharer of Hammond's sitting-
 
 Christmas Day. 35 
 
 room, was his cousin, the younger son of that 
 Gregory RockclifFe of whom I have already 
 spoken. Percy RockclifFe was about a year 
 younger than Hammond, good-looking, and 
 altogether prepossessing in his appearance and 
 manners, but like a good many other younger 
 sons, it was a continual source of grievance to 
 him that he should be expected to do anything 
 for his livelihood while his elder brother, be- 
 cause he would ultimately possess the family 
 estates, was kept in idleness. 
 
 The wealth of his father, however, though 
 great, was by no means unbounded, and in 
 order that his name and reputation should be 
 in another generation adequately sustained, 
 he had made up his mind that the bulk of his 
 property should be left to his eldest son, and 
 so it behoved him to place in the way of his 
 other four sons the means of making money 
 for themselves. 
 
 It was not unfrequently, however, that the 
 poor old gentleman bemoaned the line of 
 action upon which he had resolved, for the 
 education of these hopeful youths for fortune 
 making, appeared to involve so vast an outlay 
 of ready money, that sometimes it occurred to 
 
 3—2
 
 36 A Very Old Question. 
 
 him that his first-born, who was being reared 
 in idleness, might ultimately be forced, in 
 right down earnest, to work for his living ! 
 
 The second son had been destined for the 
 Church, but his college debts had been so pro- 
 digious that after a time he came home — that 
 being the most economical way for him to 
 continue his studies. The third and fourth 
 sons had selected the army for their profession, 
 and having purchased for them their com- 
 missions, their father had fondly hoped that 
 they would begin to help themselves ; but in 
 this he was so grievously mistaken, that when 
 it came to Percy's turn to be put out in the 
 world, he offered him no choice, but told him 
 that he was to study medicine, and that he 
 had better make up his mind to work dili- 
 gently, for that on his own ability and perse- 
 verance depended his position in the world. 
 
 Percy, however, had profited ill by the 
 parental advice, and twice had Gregory Rock- 
 cliffe come to town in order to pay his son's 
 debts, and so prevent his name from coming 
 into disrepute. On the occasion of his second 
 visit, he had besought his nephew, Hammond, 
 to keep a watchful eye over his erring son, for
 
 Christmas Day. 37 
 
 though Hammond was an obstinate young 
 man, he had always proved himself to be both 
 economical and straightforward, neither of 
 which qualities seemed to have fallen to poor 
 Percy's lot ; and so, at the house of Godfrey 
 Northover, in Gibson Square, Islington, Ham- 
 mond and Percy had taken lodgings together, 
 and it is on the morning of the Christmas 
 Day succeeding the Christmas Eve of which I 
 have written that we first make their ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 The cousins were seated in their joint 
 sitting-room ; their breakfast had just been 
 cleared away — Hammond attired in a shabby 
 old coat had lighted a depraved-looking black 
 pipe, and Percy in an elaborate dressing-gown 
 was smoking a cigar. 
 
 "Well, I never thought I should pass a 
 Christmas Day in such a hole as this" said 
 Percy. 
 
 " A good job for you if you're never worse 
 off than you are now," said Hammond. 
 
 " Oh, it's all very well for you to talk," said 
 Percy ; " you don't want anything better, 
 because you don't know anything better. 
 You forget to what I've been accustomed ;
 
 38 A Very Old Question. 
 
 and then to be told that I wasn't to go home 
 for Christmas, just as though I were a naughty 
 boy !" 
 
 " That's just what they think you are," 
 said Hammond, producing from his pocket a 
 letter. " See here, your good mother writes 
 me this morning begging that I will see that 
 her naughty boy goes to church to-day." 
 
 " Good heavens !" said Percy angrily, " it's 
 sickening ; she writes the same to me, and 
 the governor writes the longest sermon of 
 which he's capable, and says how it grieves 
 him that the family party at Christmas should, 
 through my shortcomings, be broken up. 
 What could have been more unfortunate than 
 that confounded bill coming to grief just when 
 it did ? What's fifty pounds to the governor, 
 I should like to know ?" 
 
 " Much about the same amount that it is to 
 any one else, I should say," said Hammond, 
 puffing complacently at his pipe. 
 
 Percy rose impatiently from his seat, and 
 walked to the window. Suddenly he turned 
 round and cried : 
 
 " By George, Hammond, I've half a mind 
 to follow my mother's advice, and go to
 
 Christmas Day. 39 
 
 church ! There's old Northover trudging off 
 there with that pretty daughter of his. One 
 wouldn't much mind the sermon being long if 
 one could sit next to her." 
 
 Hammond's brow contracted visibly as he 
 said : 
 
 " You stay where you are, and whatever 
 your mother may say or think to the contrary, 
 you will be doing less mischief than if you 
 went to church." 
 
 Percy flung himself in his seat again, and 
 once more devoted himself to his cigar. 
 
 " I suppose old mother Northover stays at 
 home to cook the dinner V said he. "I 
 shouldn't have accepted their invitation if it 
 hadn't been for pretty little Gerty. I call it 
 devilish impertinent of them to have asked 
 us, don't you V 
 
 " No," said Hammond shortly, "or I 
 shouldn't go." 
 
 Neither Percy nor Hammond Rockliffe 
 knew then that it was chiefly owing to 
 '• prettly little Gerty " that they had received 
 an invitation to share the Christmas dinner of 
 the Northovers. That poor little soul, 
 thirsting for a little society, had begged her
 
 40 A Very Old Question. 
 
 mother to ask her father that the two young 
 men, instead of eating their Christmas fare in 
 their own room alone, should come to their 
 (the Northovers') table ; and to her husband 
 Mrs. Northover had drawn so pathetic a de- 
 scription of the solitude of their lodgers that 
 he, having made the proviso that no undue 
 extravagances should be committed, had 
 given his consent, and so Gertrude, in expec- 
 tation of the little party, was radiantly 
 happy. 
 
 It was on behalf of her visitors that she had 
 taken so much pains in the decoration of 
 their room. Alas ! it is to be feared that it 
 was on behalf of one of them that, as she sat 
 by her father's side in church that Christ- 
 mas morning, her little heart beat so 
 rapidly. 
 
 The dinner-hour had arrived — the dinner- 
 hour of Christmas Day. Oh, what visions of 
 roast beef, turkeys, geese, mince-pies, and 
 plum-puddings the naming of that hour 
 awakens ! It would be interesting to ascer- 
 tain the number of fat cattle, turkeys, and 
 geese, and the weight of suet, sugar, and cur- 
 rants which are consumed in England between
 
 Christmas Day. 41 
 
 the hours of one and four on the 25 th day of 
 December ! 
 
 This is not the place, however, in which to 
 enter into statistics of any sort ; it is simply 
 to be recorded that the dinner-hour had ar- 
 rived, and that Percy and Hammond Hock- 
 clifTe presented themselves at the door of the 
 Northovers' sitting-room. 
 
 Their host, attired in solemn black, rose to 
 receive them. It had been contrary to his 
 wish that the young men had been asked to 
 dinner, for he could not see the necessity of 
 it ; but the invitation having been given, 
 Godfrey Northover was not the man to offer 
 anything but a cordial welcome. Any frigidity 
 in his manner, however — and he never could 
 be anything but stiff and awkward in his de- 
 portment — was fully made up for by his 
 daughters winning ways and pretty graces. 
 
 So, at least, both of the young men ap- 
 peared to think, and from Percy's face the 
 cloud of discontent at once passed away, and 
 he did his utmost to make himself agreeable, 
 a task in which it is but just of him to say 
 he succeeded admirably well. . 
 
 Mrs. Northover made her appearance with
 
 42 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the dinner, and it may be recorded that the 
 success of the entertainment was even greater 
 than anything for which that good lady had 
 hoped. 
 
 It is true that the meal was a simple one, 
 but that fact considerably enhanced the en- 
 joyment of Godfrey Northover, and as he 
 found in Hammond Rockcliffe a patient and 
 intelligent listener, he launched more into 
 conversation than for a very long time he had 
 been known to do, while Mrs. Northover and 
 Gertrude were, by Percy's anecdotes and 
 bright conversation, kept in a continual state 
 of merriment ; so that to any casual observer 
 it would have appeared that a thoroughly 
 happy and convivial party was there assem- 
 bled. If a cloud ever rested on the face of 
 any one of them, it was on that of Hammond, 
 who now and then, as he glanced at Percy 
 and at Gertrude's eager face as she listened to 
 him, pursed his lips together and moved im- 
 patiently in his chair. 
 
 But all his relatives had long ago decided 
 that Hammond had a discontented and dis- 
 agreeable nature, and so generally contrived 
 to be displeased at everything.
 
 Christmas Day. 43 
 
 Dinner over, Mrs. Northover produced 
 from a cupboard oranges and nuts, and — this 
 not without some little trepidation — a bottle 
 of wine. 
 
 With the Northovers wine was a thing 
 almost altogether unknown, and this bottle 
 had not been purchased without much consul- 
 tation and discussion between the two women ; 
 indeed, but for Gertrude, it would never have 
 been bought at all. But, dutiful to her hus- 
 band as Mrs. Northover always was, she 
 could not invariably find it in her heart to 
 deny her daughter, and she, feeling sure that 
 the RocklifFes were used to wine, and would 
 expect it, it had been bought. 
 
 When he witnessed this innovation, con- 
 cerning which before his guests he could, of 
 course, say nothing, poor Godfrey looked very 
 grave ; but being determined to be true to 
 himself, he declined to take any of it, seeing 
 which, Mrs. Northover and Gertrude also de- 
 clined. The two young men each took a 
 glassful, but the vintage proved so distasteful 
 to them that even these were not finished, 
 and so the poor lady might have been spared 
 her surreptitious purchase, as well as the
 
 44 A Very Old Question, 
 
 ultimate remonstrance administered to her by 
 her husband. In his eyes, however, when he 
 found that they did not care to drink, the 
 Hockcliffes' rose immensely, for to him wine 
 was wine, and he had no idea of one class 
 being more palatable than another, and so the 
 conversation went on as pleasantly as before. 
 
 Thus the afternoon wore away, and the 
 short winter's day drew to a close. Mrs. 
 Northover, tired by her exertions of the 
 morning, dozed in her chair on one side of 
 the fire, and on the other sat Godfrey, en- 
 tertaining Hammond with his views on free 
 trade and other matters full of interest to 
 him ; and no one but Hammond saw that 
 Percy, as he sat softly talking to Gertrude, 
 had availed himself of the growing darkness 
 to take her little hand in his and so stroke 
 and fondle it. The knowledge of this was 
 growing so curiously distressing to him that 
 he could not take his eyes off them, and fail- 
 ing to catch his cousin's, he was growing rest- 
 less to a degree, when there came a sudden 
 ring at the street-door. 
 
 The interruption came as a relief to Ham- 
 mond, but by the others it was by no means
 
 Christmas Day. 45 
 
 welcomed, and none the more so when the 
 servant announced that the visitors were Mr. 
 Anthony Northover and his son. 
 
 It was not often that the brothers visited 
 each other, and it was wonderful to Godfrey 
 that the other should care to come after what 
 had taken place on the previous night ; but 
 Anthony had a buoyant and forgiving nature, 
 and as he would often say with a laugh, 
 "didn't | bear an ill-will towards any man, 
 not even when he owed them money." 
 
 " Well, Godfrey," said he, "having had a 
 jolly good dinner, me and young Fred thought 
 that for once in a way we would come and 
 see how you were getting on, so out we came 
 by the 'bus as far as it would bring us, and 
 by Shanks's pony as far as it wouldn't. You've 
 got friends, I see. We shall be glad to know 
 'em, Godfrey." 
 
 Anthony and " young Fred," who was an 
 awkward youth of eighteen, having been pre- 
 sented to the RockclifFes, the former went 
 on : 
 
 " It's Christmas time, brother, and I'm glad 
 to see you so comfortable. I see there's wine 
 on the table, and such being the case, me and
 
 46 A Very Old Question. 
 
 young Fred will be happy to drink to all the 
 very best compliments of the season." 
 
 And so the only bottle of wine which had 
 been on Godfrey Northover's table during the 
 whole year was consumed by the brother, who 
 but the day before had borrowed money of 
 him. No wonder that he felt somewhat ex- 
 asperated. 
 
 But Anthony, as equally unconscious that 
 his brother was not well pleased with him as 
 he w 7 as that the wine was not of the very best 
 quality — for all was fish that came to his net 
 — sat placidly by, filling his own and "young 
 Fred's " glass, and prattling on. If Godfrey 
 had come to his house — and he could have got 
 credit for it — he w 7 ould' have given him any 
 amount of wine, and he therefore felt sure 
 that his brother would wish him to make 
 himself thoroughly at home. 
 
 "And now, brother," said Anthony, "we 
 come to the chief object of this visit. On New 
 Year's Eve we're going at our house to give a 
 bit of a dancing party. Well, this having 
 been settled among us, my wife says to me, 
 ' Now there's your brother Godfrey's daughter 
 growing up to be a young woman, and it'll be
 
 Christmas Day. 47 
 
 only the civil thing to ask her to come/ 
 ' Certainly,' I said ; ' and no one will be more 
 welcome at my house than a daughter of my 
 brother Godfrey's/ ' Then,' said my wife, 
 ' do you and young Fred just step across to 
 Islington this afternoon, and pass the invita- 
 tion.' ' Certainly,' I said, and so here we are, 
 and in that invitation I have now the honour 
 to include these two gentlemen who I have 
 just had the pleasure of being introduced to. 
 Gentlemen, I drink your good healths. Fred, 
 my boy, drink to the gentlemen." 
 
 Godfrey was just beginning to make answer, 
 when Percy broke in : 
 
 "Many thanks, Mr. Northover, for your 
 very kind invitation. I have the greatest 
 pleasure in accepting it, and look forward to 
 an introduction to Mrs. Northover and your 
 family." 
 
 " Well said, young gentleman," cried An- 
 thony ; " this is the very thing, for you will 
 be able to escort young miss there." 
 
 "Indeed, I shall be only too happy," said 
 Percy. 
 
 " Anthony," said Godfrey Northover, " you 
 know my views concerning dances."
 
 48 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Oh, papa," interrupted Gertrude, " do let 
 me go. It is the only chance of a party 
 which I shall have this, Christmas. Mamma, 
 dear, do persuade papa to let me go." 
 
 " He will, I am sure, dear/' said Mrs. North- 
 over. 
 
 " You will not refuse, sir ?" said Percy. 
 
 " The distance is great," objected Godfrey ; 
 " and concerning dancing, I hold my own 
 views." 
 
 " I do not know how great the distance 
 may be," said Percy, " but if you will intrust 
 Miss Northover to my care, I will undertake 
 that she both goes and returns in safety." 
 
 " And so will I," said Hammond, speaking 
 so suddenly that every one started. 
 
 " You go, too, then V said Godfrey, turn- 
 ing to him. 
 
 " Certainly," said Hammond. " I, like my 
 cousin, find the invitation an irresistible 
 one." 
 
 "Well, well," said Godfrey, after a few 
 moments' consideration, during which time he 
 had looked earnestly at his daughter's anxious 
 face. " Gertrude shall go if she wishes it." 
 
 " Spoken like a man," said Anthony.
 
 Christmas Day. 49 
 
 And after a little general conversation, and 
 the bottle of wine being finished, that worthy 
 gentleman and his son took their respective 
 leaves, and returned to the Mile End Road, 
 where they said there would be "no end of 
 a night of it." 
 
 Shortly afterwards the Rockcliffes also said 
 good-bye to their host and betook themselves 
 to their own room, where they were soon 
 busy with their pipes. 
 
 " I say," said Percy, " this will be a novel 
 experience, eh — this East-end hop ? But what 
 an old idiot you were to say you would come 
 too. I should have got on splendidly with 
 little Gerty all to myself. What on earth 
 was your object in saying you would go ?" 
 
 " What was yours ¥' asked Hammond. 
 
 " Oh, I think it will be a grand thing to 
 see how this class of people conduct them- 
 selves in their own homes," said Percy, "and 
 also — this between ourselves — I am quite 
 fascinated with pretty Miss Gerty. I anti- 
 cipate no end of fun from the entertain- 
 ment." 
 
 " And so do I," said Hammond. 
 
 And thus Christmas Day came to an end. 
 
 vol. i. 4
 
 50 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 The home of Anthony Northover was, as 
 has already been stated, situated in the Mile 
 End Road — not very far from Bow Church. 
 It was an unostentatious house, forming one 
 of a generally unostentatious row, with small 
 gardens at the back and smaller gardens in 
 the front. The neighbourhood was not an 
 aristocratic one, nor could it be altogether 
 deemed a desirable one, neither was the house 
 conspicuous either for the elegance of its 
 architecture or for the value of its appoint- 
 ments and belongings, and yet notwithstand- 
 ing its shabbiness there appertained to it the 
 same air of " jollity-in-spite-of-difficulties," 
 which was the chief characteristic of its pre- 
 sent occupant.
 
 New Years Eve. 51 
 
 Great preparations had been made in this 
 domicile for the " bit of a dancing party" to 
 which Anthony had invited his niece Gertrude 
 and the two Rockcliffes. 
 
 Anything of the nature of a social and 
 convivial party was a thing after Anthony's 
 own heart, and having obtained leave to 
 absent himself from the office, and having 
 borrowed a little more money of his brother, 
 he had taken off his coat and set to work 
 with a will, intent upon the beautifying of 
 his home ; and when the hour arrived at 
 which the guests were expected, it was quite 
 gorgeous with evergreens and cunningly con- 
 trived paper-flowers. Anthony was blessed 
 with a numerous family. His first-born was 
 a daughter — Georgina — a handsome girl of 
 twenty, who had already pledged herself to 
 become the wife of one Mr. Samuel Weskut, 
 a traveller in the jewellery trade ; his second 
 was " young Fred," to whom the reader has 
 already been introduced, and after him came a 
 whole troop of boys and girls, varied half-way 
 down the list by a fine pair of twins, until they 
 stopped at the youngest, a chubby child of five. 
 
 Mrs. Northover,' of whom, if it be only as 
 
 4—2
 
 52 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the mother of so fine a family, it is due that 
 some mention should be made, was a fitting 
 mate for her husband : like him she was good- 
 tempered and easy-going, wondering why the 
 generality of people seemed to make them- 
 selves so unnecessarily anxious and unhappy, 
 and marvelling greatly and growing propor- 
 tionately indignant whenever any individual, 
 either a creditor or otherwise, ventured to 
 interfere with the harmless bliss which she 
 and her husband were disposed to enjoy. 
 
 That troubles should fall to the lot of this 
 worthy couple, was a matter of course, but 
 taking into consideration their limited means, 
 and their undoubted propensity for expen- 
 diture, they were, on the whole, much fewer 
 than might be imagined ; for if a man makes 
 up his mind " not to worry himself over 
 trifles," which to a man of Anthony North- 
 over's disposition means simply, that so long 
 as he himself is left in peace, he cares not 
 whether his creditors be paid or unpaid, it is 
 really wonderful how much with a " limited 
 income," and a not too active conscience, may, 
 with a little discretion, be achieved. 
 
 The night of this New Year's Eve party
 
 New Years Eve. 53 
 
 was to be one of thorough enjoyment and 
 jollity. Ostensibly the entertainment was 
 given on behalf of the " young people," but 
 I doubt if any looked forward to it with 
 half the real zest of Mr. and Mrs. Northover 
 themselves. The younger children were com- 
 mitted to the care of an obliging neighbour ; 
 an ample stock of provisions, both solid and 
 liquid, had been laid in, and Anthony, to use 
 his own words, was prepared to "go the 
 whole hog." The guests were numerous — 
 for the small rooms far too numerous ; but all 
 had come to enjoy themselves, and not as 
 either a matter of form or of duty, in which 
 spirit so many invitations, in more elevated 
 circles, are given and accepted ; and so enjoy 
 themselves they undoubtedly did. 
 
 The most brilliant and conspicuous among 
 them all was Mr. Samuel Weskut, the be- 
 trothed of Georgina Northover, a short, dark 
 gentleman, and of whom it might not unjustly 
 be said that he had a head of pomatum rather 
 than a head of hair, as well as a moustache 
 of wax and cosmetic. 
 
 It was holiday-time with him, and he was 
 making the most of it, and very proud of him
 
 54 A Very Old Question, 
 
 did Georgina and the family generally appear 
 to be, and no wonder was it, for the jewellery 
 which he wore represented in itself a small 
 fortune. 
 
 It is true that not a few of the other guests, 
 being inspired with jealousy rather than awe, 
 and referring to Mr. Weskut's calling, sur- 
 mised that he was wearing and airing his 
 " samples ;" but though that might be the 
 case, all agreed that he was a most agreeable 
 and affable young gentleman, and that his 
 taste in dress contrasted most favourably with 
 that of the two strange gentlemen, of whom 
 their host made so much, and who hadn't as 
 much as even a frill to their shirts, and who 
 certainly had nothing to relieve the severe 
 simplicity of their black evening dress. The 
 youngest of these certainly seemed inclined to 
 make himself agreeable ; but in one quarter, 
 it must be said, all his attentions were lavished, 
 while as for the eldest he was little better 
 than a bear, and seemed evidently to consider 
 himself above his company. 
 
 This was Hammond Rockcliffe, who, if he 
 had really anticipated enjoyment when he 
 accepted the invitation, seemed, as he stood
 
 New Years Eve. 55 
 
 in a doorway moodily watching the dancers, 
 and keeping a very close eye upon one couple 
 in particular, to experience anything else than 
 that. But if concerning the Rockcliffes the 
 opinions expressed were not altogether favour- 
 able, concerning Gertrude there was but one, 
 and that was of universal and of unfeigned 
 admiration. 
 
 Dressed in a simple white frock, with the 
 flush on her beautiful and bright young face 
 of the excitement and enjoyment occasioned 
 •by her first " party," she was indeed some- 
 thing to look at and admire. 
 
 So evidently thought all the young men, 
 and the younger Rockcliffe, whose attentions 
 to her were in the highest degree " marked," 
 became even less and less popular than the 
 taciturn Hammond ; while the dazzling Wes- 
 kut, notwithstanding his vows to Georgina, 
 was thinking regretfully of a certain set of 
 shirt-studs which he had not that evening 
 donned, and with which he had never hitherto 
 failed to win the attention, if not to captivate 
 the heart, of any lady who, for the time being, 
 had been the object of his admiration. 
 
 But at present, time can no more be given
 
 56 A Very Old Question. 
 
 for the consideration of Mr. Weskut's state of 
 mind than for the minute description of the 
 events and little triumphs of Gertrude's first 
 dance, except in so far as they have a direct 
 bearing upon this story. All there appeared 
 to enjoy themselves, and the supper, which 
 was served at eleven o'clock, was both mag- 
 nificent and successful. At twelve o'clock hot 
 punch was placed upon the table, and to the 
 clinking of glasses and a chorus of happy 
 \oices, the new year in noble style was ushered 
 in ; and then, with unabated vigour, the . 
 dancing was resumed. 
 
 It was difficult at this time to catch either 
 the eye or the attention of the jolly-looking 
 Anthony, who was bustling from one guest to 
 another, cracking his jokes, and, with some 
 half-dozen partners, taking short turns in the 
 dance, and it was not until Hammond was 
 growing quite weary of trying to do so that 
 he at length succeeded. 
 
 " Mr. Northover," he then said, " I pro- 
 mised your brother that his daughter should 
 be home by a certain hour ; it seems rude of 
 me, I know, to ask you to allow me, before 
 your party breaks up, to take her away, but
 
 New Years Eve. 57 
 
 understanding the circumstances, you will, I 
 am sure, excuse me." 
 
 Anthony burst into a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Why you use the very same words that 
 the other young spark did ! She's been gone 
 this half hour — with him !" 
 
 This was indeed true. Hammond had cer- 
 tainly not noticed either Percy or Gertrude 
 among the dancers, but imagined of course 
 that they were in the next room. He now 
 understood the trick which Percy had played 
 upon him, and to conceal his anger he had 
 enough to do. 
 
 Several of the guests had unfortunately 
 overheard both his words and their host's 
 answer, and so the laughter became general. 
 
 " Well, this is about the best bit I've heard 
 for a long time !" laughed Anthony. " He's been 
 too sharp for you, sir, and given you the slip." 
 
 " He's in the right of it too," chimed in Mr. 
 Weskut. " Two's company and three's none, 
 and those who can't see it, ought to be taught 
 it!" 
 
 A murmur of approbation, in which the 
 ladies' voices were prominently heard, followed 
 this speech.
 
 58 A Very Old Question. 
 
 Hammond, having in his own mind hastily 
 revolved the expediency of knocking Mr. 
 Weskut down, and having determined that it 
 was wisest to resist that very strong tempta- 
 tion, bade his host an abrupt farewell, and 
 amidst continual laughter, and many more 
 jokes, left the house. 
 
 He called a cab, and ordered the man to 
 drive him to Islington in a frame of mind 
 which is best described in three words — he 
 loved Gertrude. 
 
 Yes ; that was poor Hammond's condition. 
 Until lately he had been content to love her 
 silently, and without any thought of anything 
 ever coming of his love, for he had told himself 
 that he, who could barely keep himself, must 
 not even dream of marriage ; and, without 
 some prospect of making her his wife, he was 
 far too honourable to speak to her one word 
 of love. But it had been a happiness to him 
 to be near her, and to feel that some day an 
 opportunity might be afforded to him of ren- 
 dering her some little service ; but now Percy's 
 attentions to her had raised within him a storm 
 . of jealousy, and, in suffering for the first time 
 from that dreadful form of torture, he ateo
 
 New Years Eve. 59 
 
 realised how much to him, and how dear, 
 Gertrude really was. 
 
 He got out of his cab at the far-famed 
 Angel of Islington, and walked to Gibson 
 Square. He was approaching the house, and 
 had his latch-key in his hand, ready to open 
 the door, when he was aware of two figures 
 standing directly before it. 
 
 They were his cousin Percy and Gertrude. 
 At that time of night the square was perfectly 
 empty, and they evidently had not heard his 
 footsteps, for he had his arm around her, and 
 her little hands were placed upon his shoulders 
 as she looked up into his face. 
 
 Hammond stepped hastily back into the 
 shadow of a doorway, and was the unwilling 
 oyerhearer of the following words. 
 
 " Oh, Percy," said Gertrude, " I do feel so 
 happy to know that you really, really love 
 me !" 
 
 " My darling !" said Percy, as he kissed her. 
 
 " And for your sake, Percy, I will do as 
 you ask, and tell no one until I have your 
 leave to do so." 
 
 Only meet me when and as often as you 
 can, that I may kiss and love you," said Percy.
 
 60 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Ah, Percy," she said, " I shall be as 
 anxious for that as you are." 
 
 And then he opened the door with his latch- 
 key, and they together passed into the house. 
 
 It was some hours later when Hammond 
 came into his bedroom, and drawing back the 
 curtain from the window, looked out at the 
 first gleams of the light of a New Year's 
 Day.
 
 Another Holiday. 61 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ANOTHER HOLIDAY. 
 
 If this history were written in dramatic form, 
 with the conclusion of the foregoing chapter 
 the first act of it would have ended. At that 
 juncture the curtain would have been allowed 
 to fall, and, as is nowadays the. custom, that 
 act would have been called the " prologue." 
 
 That portion of the story which is already 
 written may well be said to act as prologue to 
 that which is to follow ; the events of those 
 few days, and their influence upon some of its 
 principal characters, being mainly instrumental 
 in forming the history wherewith it is hoped 
 the reader may be interested. The story is 
 recommenced when the new year, with the 
 birth of which the last chapter came to a close, 
 had grown to be eight months old, and when
 
 62 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the hot August sun was driving the inhabi- 
 tants of London to the country and to the 
 sea-coast as fast as the over-crowded trains 
 could carry them. 
 
 Every one who could afford the time and 
 the money was going out of town, and all 
 were in such a hurry to do so that apparently 
 they had no leisure to bestow pity upon those 
 who were unable to afford either, though it 
 may be that the heart of many a jolly-looking 
 paterfamilias, as he journeyed seaward with his 
 family, ached for a moment as he thought of 
 the dusty and the fagged City clerks, whom 
 yesterday he had seen, first gazing wistfully 
 at advertisements of country and sea-side 
 excursions, and then at the blue sky which 
 even the smoke of London could not altogether 
 conceal. 
 
 But on the day of which I am about to 
 write, a stranger being suddenly set down 
 within the precincts of the City of London 
 would have thought that at last even the 
 patient clerks had given the thing up in 
 despair, and had entered into a general con- 
 spiracy for holiday-making upon the self-same 
 day that their employers had decided on the
 
 Another Holiday. G3 
 
 self-same course, for every office, bank, and shop 
 was closed, and hardly a footstep was to be 
 heard in the usually crowded streets. In 
 their solitude those familiar streets and build- 
 ings looked so strange, and the silence where 
 one is accustomed to so much noise and bustle 
 was something so appalling, that the sight 
 would have been a melancholy, nay, even a 
 terrible one, did not every one know and 
 rejoice in the fact, that the day was one of 
 those great modern institutions — "a Bank 
 Holiday." 
 
 It would be a curious thing to collect 
 together the people who stay in the city on a 
 bank holiday — more especially on a summer 
 bank holiday. A small space would I imagine 
 hold the lot, and not a few of them would be 
 bed-ridden ; for what active man or woman 
 would willingly stay in the city when there 
 is no active city work to be done ? Some of 
 course as a matter of necessity stay there, 
 and some from force of habit ; but very few 
 it is to be supposed on such days, and with 
 the view of taking their pleasure, wend their 
 way citywards. If a committee of such men 
 were called it is very much to be doubted
 
 64 A Very Old Question, 
 
 if sufficient could be got together to form a 
 quorum. 
 
 One of such, however, was Godfrey North- 
 over, who had from the first looked upon the 
 introduction of regular " Bank Holidays" as 
 one of the many positive signs that England 
 had had her day and was " going to the 
 dogs." 
 
 Alas ! how many men think with him, and 
 regard each step which we make forward as 
 one which must lead us to destruction ! For 
 my part I rejoice to think that good Old Eng- 
 land is — thanks to the great men and minds 
 to whom she has given birth — in a state of 
 daily progress ; and those timorous souls who 
 begin to imagine, and who say that she has 
 had her day, simply think and say so because 
 other great countries are going forward too, 
 and because some of them, perhaps, bid fair 
 to outstrip us in the race. But even if this 
 be so, every right-minded man I imagine 
 must hold that the competition is -good and 
 healthy for us : while every Englishman 
 should gird up his loins and resolve that he will 
 do his little part towards keeping his country 
 first in the list of those who are pressing on.
 
 Another Holiday. 65 
 
 So long as she progresses England will 
 never go to the wall. When she stands still 
 other countries will pass her, and she will 
 have to take the consequences of her own 
 inactivity. 
 
 But to Godfrey Northover, as he wended 
 his way to America Square, the sight of the 
 empty streets was a significant one, and it 
 grieved him to think of the thousands and 
 thousands of souls who that day were bent 
 on frivolous enjoyment, and who were 
 squandering in unnecessary luxuries hard- 
 earned money. Every holiday-maker whom 
 he met emerging from the city in Sunday 
 suit and with merry face was regarded by 
 him with both pity and contempt, and he 
 thought so much of them and of their folly 
 that for the time being the memory of his 
 home passed from his mind. 
 
 And yet for the last few days Godfrey 
 Northover had been more troubled about his 
 home than he ever before remembered to 
 have been, for there lay his wife dangerously 
 ill. As a rule his home occupied his thoughts 
 but little, for his mind and his heart were in 
 his office and at his work, and he had had 
 
 vol. I. 5
 
 66 A Very Old Question. 
 
 little or no home-trouble to keep it in dis- 
 agreeable prominence before him. He had 
 been essentially the master of his own house, 
 and knew well that things would be done 
 there in his absence exactly as in his pre- 
 sence. He knew also that there no extra- 
 vagance could be practised, for he only gave 
 his wife sufficient money for her housekeeping 
 expenses, and even had she had more, he knew 
 that she would do nothing knowingly against 
 his wishes. He had but one child, and she 
 was everything for which a father could wish. 
 Thus, though his home could hardly, in the 
 ordinary acceptation of the term, be called a 
 happy one (indeed he did not require what 
 most people would deem happiness), it had 
 about it at least the enviable characteristic 
 that it caused him no anxiety or unpleasant 
 thought, and that there was for him at all 
 events no skeleton in a cupboard. 
 
 He himself held the opinion that people 
 who had home-troubles made them for them- 
 selves, and that if the world at large would 
 only do as he did, namely, be the masters of 
 their homes and live within their incomes, 
 such things could not exist. In some measure
 
 Another Holiday. G7 
 
 he was probably right, but in making out his 
 standard of domestic bliss he had omitted 
 altogether to calculate the chance of sickness 
 or death which hitherto had visited neither 
 him nor his, and which comes to all of us in 
 our turn as a trouble for which there is no 
 earthly remedy. 
 
 But now his wife lay sorely ill and Godfrey 
 Northover's stern heart was troubled : and 
 well it might be — for she had ever been to 
 him the most patient, unselfish, and enduring 
 of helpmates. 
 
 Never very strong, Mrs. Northover had 
 lately felt her strength fail her greatly, 
 and without complaining she had gradu- 
 ally sunk into a state of weakness and 
 illness which seemed to be daily on the 
 increase. For some time she had acknow- 
 ledged this to herself, but she had never told 
 her husband how much she suffered, or how 
 weak she was, and though he of course 
 noticed the change in her, he had thought 
 lightly of it ; or if ever he saw her looking 
 weary over her household work, had perhaps 
 smiled to himself when he reflected upon his 
 determination that this should be her last
 
 68 A Very Old Question. 
 
 year of drudgery, and that in a few months 
 all that money could secure for her should be 
 hers. 
 
 Poor soul ! it was indeed ordained that she 
 should rest from her labours, but not as her 
 husband had planned and arranged. Man 
 had proposed, but it was God who had 
 disposed. 
 
 One day the poor uncomplaining lady had 
 felt herself wholly unable to rise from her 
 bed, and then, for the first time, a doctor had 
 been called in. 
 
 This doctor was a neighbour, and one, 
 who, together with a few others, who formed 
 a circle of friends, was wont to sneer at 
 Northover's penury and unsociable habits. 
 
 " You should have sent for me long ago," 
 he said ; "I can do little now. The best 
 thing you. can do is to provide for her plenty 
 of nourishing food and good wine. I conclude 
 you can get these V 
 
 "I can always provide whatever is necessary 
 for my wife," said Northover hotly, for he 
 understood the allusion to his economical 
 mode of life. " She always has had what is 
 necessary, and always will have."
 
 Another Holiday. 69 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said the doctor ; " I 
 can't say, however, that her appearance does 
 justice to her living." 
 
 And so he went away, and being accounted 
 among his own friends a great humorist, he 
 made out of this interview quite a little joking 
 capital, and indeed was so successful in telling 
 how " Northover had starved his wife," that 
 one or two of his admirers strongly recom- 
 mended him to make it the subject of a comic 
 song, with " spoken" in it ; for this doctor, it 
 must be said, was rather noted for composi- 
 tions of that class. 
 
 But Northover was greatly incensed. 
 
 " Jane," he said to his wife, as he stood by 
 her bedside, "have you not since you have 
 been my wife always had everything that you 
 have required, or do you make it the subject 
 of gossip with your neighbours that I deny you 
 the necessaries of life ?" 
 
 " Oh, Godfrey," said the sick woman, "what 
 a question ! You know that I have all that 
 I want, and always have had. Do me more 
 justice than to think that I have ever com- 
 plained of you, my husband. Do not send 
 for the doctor again. I do not require him.
 
 70 A Very Old Question. 
 
 Gerty was so anxious, poor girl, or I should 
 never have thought of him." 
 
 " It is as you will," replied her husband. 
 " God knows I grudge you nothing, Jane ; 
 but surely you, and not Gertrude, are the 
 best judge of whether you require a doctor or 
 not." 
 
 " I require nothing," she answered, faintly, 
 and pressing his hand. 
 
 And satisfied with this assurance, North- 
 over went about his work as usual and became 
 accustomed to not finding his wife down to 
 receive him when he returned home in the 
 evening. He would go up to her room and 
 see her, and then come downstairs and, 
 sitting by himself, would think how next 
 year he would take her away for a change, 
 and how happy in the enjoyment of the 
 money which he had earned for them, she and 
 Gertrude would be. 
 
 But Gertrude was sadly anxious concerning 
 her mother, and, failing to arouse her father, 
 who indeed always treated her as a young 
 child, went in her trouble to Hammond Rock- 
 cliffe, who was at present the sole occupant 
 of the upstairs sitting-room, Percy having
 
 Another Holiday. 71 
 
 now for some months left London, and told 
 him of her fears. 
 
 Now Hammond Rockcliffe had sufficiently 
 qualified himself to practise as a physician to 
 know at once when he saw Mrs. Northover, 
 that that poor lady was beyond the help of 
 medical skill ; and from a strange, sad look 
 which she gave him, he divined that she knew 
 it also. 
 
 "I have brought you a new doctor, 
 mamma," said Gertrude, affecting to smile, 
 " and I hope that if ever I am ill. I shall have 
 as kind a one as I know he is." 
 
 " I hope so, too," said Mrs. Northover. 
 " Now leave me alone with the doctor, Gerty, 
 and when he comes to you, he shall tell you 
 how much better I am than my nervous little 
 nurse thinks." 
 
 When Gertrude had left the room, the poor 
 patient turned to Hammond, and said — 
 
 " You have no need to tell me, Mr. Rock- 
 cliffe, that you can do nothing for me. I am 
 dying, and I know it, and I pray God that I 
 may be made willing to go to Him, as, but for 
 my darling child, I am, as He knows, quite 
 willing. My dear husband will grieve for me,
 
 72 A Very Old Question, 
 
 but he is much occupied in business, and will 
 learn to grow content in remembering that he 
 was always — oh, and he always has been — a 
 good husband to me. But, Mr. Rockcliffe, it 
 is hard to leave my Gertrude, and the thought 
 of the poor child's grief, when I am gone, 
 hurts me more than all the pain I ever suffer. 
 Mr. Hockcliffe, you have a kind heart ; in a 
 thousand ways, and at all times, you have 
 shown it to us all. Oh, promise me that you 
 will do what you can to comfort my child 
 when I am dead !" 
 
 " Mrs. Northover," said Hammond, with a 
 trembling voice, " God knows that I w r ould do 
 anything in my power for you and yours. 
 But you must let me speak with your hus- 
 band ; it is not right that he should any 
 longer remain insensible " 
 
 She gently interrupted him. 
 
 " No, no," she said ; " it is better not, better 
 not. Why cause him needless pain ? He is 
 happy at his business, and why should I call 
 him thence to sit by my bedside and to watch 
 my sufferings, and to bear with my fretfulness 
 during the time which I may still have to 
 linger here ? I know my dear husband well.
 
 Another Holiday. 73 
 
 and how he would grieve for me ; and besides 
 where he can do nothing why should he suffer ? 
 You must promise me not to speak to him, 
 and, oh, promise me you will do what you can 
 to comfort and to be a friend to him and to 
 my darling Gertrude." 
 
 Hammond was immensely touched by the 
 dying mother's words. 
 
 " I swear to you," he said, sinking on his 
 knees by the bedside, " that as I believe you 
 will be watching me from another world, I will 
 do all that I can all through my life, to be- 
 friend and to serve that dear girl whom you 
 and I love." 
 
 And so Gertrude's mother learnt poor Ham- 
 mond's secret. 
 
 From that day he became a constant visitor 
 to her bedchamber, and waited upon her 
 almost as assiduously as Gertrude herself. 
 The two were thus brought constantly to- 
 gether, and as Gertrude could not fail to 
 show her gratitude for, and her appreciation 
 of, the numberless little acts of kindness which 
 he did for her mother, it is not to be wondered 
 at if Hammond began to hope that there 
 might be greater happiness in store for him
 
 74 A Very Old Question. 
 
 than as yet he had taught himself to believe 
 possible. 
 
 At length, one morning — the morning of 
 the Bank Holiday, with the mention of which 
 this chapter commenced — the invalid, for the 
 first time, begged her husband to stay with 
 her instead of going as usual to the office. 
 
 " Stay with me awhile, Godfrey," she said ; 
 " I feel as though I could not part with you 
 this morning." 
 
 On any other morning it is probable that 
 he would have complied with her request, but 
 this general holiday was a day on which he 
 was even more than usually anxious to be at 
 his office at work. The introduction of the 
 holiday had appeared to him to be the most 
 iniquitous thing on the face of the earth, and 
 because he could only find very few to agree 
 with him, it was all the more hateful to him. 
 
 His brother, his clerks, and his warehouse- 
 men had one and all claimed the privilege of 
 the movement, and so on that day would 
 absent themselves from business. It especially 
 behoved him therefore to enter his protest 
 against it, by going there and working by 
 himself.
 
 Another Holiday. 75 
 
 " I cannot stay with you to-day, Jane," he 
 said, " but to-night I will come and sit with 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no !" she cried, with more 
 vehemence than she had used for years. 
 " Stay now, stay now ! I can talk to you now, 
 Godfrey ; perhaps to-night I shall not be able 
 to." 
 
 " These are idle fancies, Jane," he said ; 
 "you must allow me to be the best judge of 
 what is best for both of us." 
 
 And so, as usual, he went to his office. 
 Since the day of their marriage it had ever 
 been thus between them. He had always 
 decided for them both. He had sworn to 
 love and cherish her, and she to obey him, 
 and it was equally right that each should 
 keep their vow. 
 
 But still as he sat at his desk there alone, 
 with an unusual and a startling vividness, 
 the memory of her parting words came up 
 before him again and again ; more than once 
 he paused for a moment and thought that he 
 would go home and sit with her for a time ; 
 but the force of habit and his indignation at 
 the general holiday, just as often asserted
 
 76 A Very Old Question. 
 
 themselves, and he fell to his writing again. 
 At the same time, however, he was not him- 
 self that clay, and when his usual dinner-hour 
 came, he could hardly touch his frugal meal. 
 
 " Ah, well, well," he said to himself, " poor 
 Jane shall in a few months take her fill of 
 pleasure. The year draws to a close, and with 
 the new one we commence a new life. God 
 grant it may be for her happiness. I will 
 perhaps drop a hint of it to-night and so cheer 
 her, for like all women, she loves to think of 
 pleasure." 
 
 And so the hot day wore on into the hotter 
 afternoon, and the City was even more deso- 
 late and empty than before. Hardly a soul 
 was to be seen in the scorching streets — the 
 policemen having them pretty much to them- 
 selves. 
 
 To not 'a few of these it was a relief to the 
 monotony of the tiring day, rendered doubly 
 irksome as it was by the intense heat and the 
 unfamiliar silence of the City, to see the figure 
 of a young and beautiful girl run swiftly along 
 the empty streets. Her bonnet was half off 
 her head, and her black hair was loosened by 
 the haste with which she came ; but her mind
 
 Another Holiday. 
 
 seemed too full to heed this, and she hurried 
 on as quickly as she could. 
 
 It was Gertrude — and indeed her poor mind 
 was very full — full of trouble, to which, not- 
 withstanding her monotonous and joyless life, 
 she had until lately been a stranger. 
 
 Gertrude's life had hardly known joy or 
 excitement until that New Year's Eve when 
 Percy Rockcliffe had told her that he loved 
 her, and on the New Year's Day which fol- 
 lowed it she had recognised her first trouble. 
 
 The little story of her love is soon told. 
 Percy had said that he loved her, and with 
 all the warmth of her young heart she had 
 returned his affection. To Gertrude to love 
 was to be "engaged," and to be engaged was 
 tb let all the world know the happy course 
 which events had taken ; but Percy saw 
 matters from a different point of view, and 
 had begged her, for his sake, to keep the thing 
 a secret — at all events, for a time. 
 
 This had troubled her greatly, for it was 
 the first time that she had concealed anything 
 from her mother, but Percy's will was at that 
 time all powerful with her, and so she had 
 consented ; and indeed it was very sweet to
 
 78 A Very Old Question. 
 
 her to meet him, from time to time, and to go 
 with him for long and happy walks; to squeeze 
 his hand when they met in the house ; to look 
 at him when others were by, and to think 
 what they two knew, which to the rest of the 
 world, was a secret ; and sometimes — alas, 
 poor Gertrude ! — to steal out of her bedroom 
 when she heard him pass her door at night, 
 and give him one loving kiss before she knelt 
 by her bedside to pray for him, and then lay 
 down to sleep and dream of him. For some 
 months this went on, and what would have 
 been the end of it God knows, when it so 
 chanced that a relative of Percy's died and 
 left him no inconsiderable sum — an amount 
 which rendered the idea of his working for his 
 living unnecessary ; and so his studies in 
 London came to a sudden close, and his parents 
 generously forgiving him all his shortcomings, 
 bade him welcome home. 
 
 And from home, in answer to a loving letter 
 w T hich he received from Gertrude, in which 
 she gently chided him for being too long 
 silent, he wrote her a heartless reply, in which 
 he told her that his prospects were altered, 
 that a great future was before him, which an
 
 Another Holiday. 79 
 
 engagement to marry would altogether mar, 
 and that he relied upon her love for him to 
 forget what had passed between them, as he 
 had been led away by the thoughtless gene- 
 rosity of a young man, and had never seriously 
 thought of what the consequences to him of 
 such an engagement would be . 
 
 It was altogether a pitiful letter, and yet 
 Percy, in talking of the matter to his friends, 
 which, God forgive him, he had the assurance 
 to do, took credit to himself in that " he had 
 had the pluck to tear himself away from the 
 little girl," — for so he was pleased to term poor 
 Gertrude ; and his friends told him that he 
 was a good fellow, and were afraid that they 
 might under the circumstances have acted dif- 
 ferently. And one friend suggested that, as 
 Percy had done with her, he might write him 
 a letter of introduction, so that he might 
 follow up his conquest, which sally elicited 
 much laughter, for this gentleman was cele- 
 brated as a choice spirit. 
 
 Yes, it was a pitiful letter, and the saddest 
 part of it was, that poor Gertrude believed in 
 it ; and many a weary night her pillow was 
 wet with her tears, as in the agony of her
 
 80 A Very Old Question. 
 
 trouble she prayed God to make her love 
 Percy so well that, in hearing of him as a 
 great man, she might rejoice and be content ; 
 and then she would ask forgiveness for being 
 so weak and selfish as to wish him, as she 
 feared she did, to lay aside his bright pro- 
 spects and marry her. 
 
 But Gertrude had a brave little heart of 
 her own, and though she gave way sadly when 
 she was alone in her room, and there was no 
 one by to see her, she put on so brave a face 
 before her father and mother that they never' 
 suspected her trouble, and when her mother 
 fell ill she forgot a portion of it in being to 
 her the most devoted, loving, and attentive 
 of nurses. 
 
 And now — if, indeed, the reader has not 
 already guessed it — it must be seen why it 
 was that she was hurrying so quickly along 
 the empty streets on that hot August after- 
 noon. 
 
 She made her way straight to her father's 
 offices in America Square, and going quickly 
 up the stairs stood outside the door of his 
 room. Inside she could hear the sound of 
 his busy pen as he plied it, outside she could
 
 Another Holiday. 81 
 
 almost hear the wild beating of her own 
 heart. 
 
 She opened the door and stood before him. 
 
 " Gertrude !" he cried, starting up from his 
 desk, " What is the matter ? Are you ill, 
 child f 
 
 11 No, no, father," she faltered, " I am not 
 ill — but — but mother — " 
 
 " What of her V 
 
 " Oh, father, I am afraid she is very ill in- 
 deed. Mr. Rockcliffe told me to come and 
 fetch you to her as quickly as I could." 
 
 " And how did you come, Gertrude V 
 
 " I walked — and — and ran." 
 
 " Why did you not take a cab V 
 
 " We had no money in the house, father, 
 and — and I know you do not like cabs — and 
 so I walked." 
 
 " At such a time as this, Gertrude ?" said 
 her father, almost angrily ; but as he hurried 
 down the stairs her words seemed as a re- 
 proach to him, he knew not why, and sunk 
 heavily to his heart. 
 
 " Was your mother very ill when you left V 
 he asked, as they drove quickly homewards. 
 
 " Indeed, father, I am afraid so." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Who did you leave with her V 
 
 "Mr. Kockcliffe." 
 
 And then neither spoke again until they 
 reached home. 
 
 The door was opened to them by Ham- 
 mond Rockcliffe. 
 
 " How is mamma now V asked Gertrude. 
 " I will go to her at once, and tell her that 
 papa has come." 
 
 " No/' said Hammond softly, stopping her, 
 " let your father come up alone first. I will 
 go with him." 
 
 " Mr. Northover," he said, as soon as they 
 were alone together upstairs, " I am afraid 
 that you have never realised how ill your wife 
 has been." 
 
 "Perhaps not — perhaps' not," said North- 
 over, in a strange and faltering voice, very 
 different to the firm and decided tones in 
 which he usually spoke. " Indeed, sir, I fear 
 not." 
 
 " It would have been better if you had 
 done so," said Rockcliffe, " for you would have 
 been better prepared for the result of such an 
 illness. Mr. Northover, I hardly know how 
 to tell you what I have to tell ; you are a
 
 Another Holiday. 83 
 
 strong man, however, and will, I am sure, bear 
 it well, your wife " 
 
 " Is dying V gasped Northover. " Oh, my 
 God ! do not tell me she is dying ! What 
 shall I do — what shall I do ? Tell me the 
 names of the best, the most expensive phy- 
 sicians, that I may send for them." 
 
 " Alas, no physician can help her, Mr. 
 Northover. Your wife is dead I" 
 
 The sudden shock of this unexpected grief 
 was too much for the stern man of business. 
 He gazed wildly round him for a moment, and 
 then fell on the ground in a swoon. 
 
 6—2
 
 84 A Very Old Question, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PREMATURE PROPOSAL. 
 
 Before Godfrey Northover showed signs of 
 rallying from the violent fever which ensued 
 upon the sudden shock which his system had 
 undergone when he had been so suddenly told 
 of the death of his wife, she, poor thing, had 
 been for some weeks in her grave. 
 
 For days and days he had been delirious, 
 calling madly for his wife and accusing him- 
 self of having caused her death, during which 
 time his life had been altogether despaired of; 
 and when after a time the violence of his 
 disease had abated, he sank into a condition 
 so low and despondent, that the doctors still 
 shook their heads, and, indeed, seemed to 
 consider this, in some measure, the more 
 dangerous phase of the two. For the un-
 
 A Premature Proposal. 85 
 
 happy man refused all comfort, and seemed 
 to be wholly unable to make any effort to 
 rouse himself. During his delirium he had 
 suffered an agony of torment, as the picture of 
 his dead wife, of how for his sake she had 
 ever denied herself, and of how she could now 
 never enjoy the money which he had made for 
 her, flitted across his disordered brain ; but 
 even this agony was as nothing compared with 
 the slow torture which ensued, when, with 
 returning consciousness, he lay upon his bed, 
 and every moment called to mind some little 
 act of deprivation on her part ; some little 
 matter in which he had stinted her ; times 
 when he had rebuked her for striving to be 
 what he called extravagant ; little luxuries 
 and pleasures which, when asked for, he had 
 denied her ; and thousands of trifles con- 
 nected with their married life, which, though 
 little thought of during her existence, now 
 seemed to come to him as reproaches from her 
 grave. Oh, of what use to him now was all 
 the wealth which he had earned so hardly, 
 now that he could not share it with her 
 whom he had loved, and who had always been 
 so obedient to his stern will ? How she must
 
 86 A Very Old Question, 
 
 have hated and despised him, and rued the 
 day on which she had joined her lot with his ; 
 and yet, as he looked back on the past, few as 
 were the days on which he could remember 
 to have said a loving word to her, those were 
 still fewer on which he could remember a word 
 of reproach to have passed her lips. And yet 
 he had really loved her, and had meant to be 
 good to her ! But his life had been one great 
 mistake, and now, alas, it was too late to make 
 that other life, not his own, which had de- 
 pended so absolutely on him, a happy one. 
 
 And so Godfrey Northover writhed on his 
 bed in an agony of remorse, and, growing 
 daily weaker, seemed indeed very like to 
 die. 
 
 During this time Hammond Rockcliffe was 
 his constant attendant and friend. He did 
 not trust entirely to his own medical skill in 
 the case, but we doubt if ever a patient owed 
 more to doctor than Northover owed to him. 
 Night after night he sat up with him, giving 
 him his draughts, and doing all that he could 
 to soothe and to help him, and proving him- 
 self to be the most gentle, and the most 
 patient of nurses, qualities which should have
 
 A Premature Proposal. 87 
 
 gone a long way towards making him a skil- 
 ful and successful physician. 
 
 At this time, too, Hammond had another 
 task, which was to comfort and befriend poor 
 Gertrude, who, well nigh heartbroken at the 
 death of her mother, and wholly friendless as 
 she was, seemed, in consequence of her father's 
 prostration, to have no one to whom to turn 
 for sympathy and consolation. 
 
 It is true that a noisy deputation of would- 
 be condolers came over from her uncle An- 
 thony's, and offered either to take her home 
 with them, or to come and stay with her; but 
 their sympathy, though perhaps genuine, was 
 of a loud and inquisitive order, from which 
 the poor girl shrunk, simply expressing her 
 wish and determination to stay alone with her 
 father. 
 
 These were her only friends, and, but for 
 Hammond, she would have been alone in- 
 deed. 
 
 It was but natural that the two should be 
 thrown much together, for Gertrude nursed 
 her father throughout the day, surrendering 
 her charge to Hammond at night, and it was 
 perhaps even more natural that she should
 
 88 A Very Old Question. 
 
 feel herself greatly drawn towards one who 
 showed for her so much generous sympathy, 
 so much manly pity, and who seemed to read 
 her heart so well. 
 
 As for Hammond, if it had not been that 
 he most truly pitied her, and that in so doing 
 he felt a portion of her sorrow, the time would 
 have been to him one of elysium ; for, as has 
 been said, he loved Gertrude dearly, and as, 
 owing to circumstances, they became more 
 and more intimate, that love increased ten- 
 fold, and though he had long ago made up 
 his mind that it was a thing which must be 
 conquered and " lived down," he, being but 
 human, could not resist the temptation of 
 holding sweet intercourse with her, and so, 
 without even knowing it, behaved towards 
 her very much as a lover would do. 
 
 When Godfrey Northover's fever had so 
 far abated that there was no immediate ap- 
 prehension of danger concerning him, Ham- 
 mond would persuade Gertrude to go out for 
 a walk with him, being really fearful that, 
 through long and anxious watching, the 
 strength of the young girl might fail, and 
 these walks becoming after a time almost daily
 
 A Premature Proposal. 89 
 
 institutions, it is not to be wondered at that 
 she confided to him all her troubles, and 
 began to regard him as the best, if not the 
 only friend she ever had in the world. 
 
 It was during one of these walks that she 
 said to him : 
 
 "Mr: Rockcliffe, have you ever thought 
 what will become of me, supposing papa 
 were to die ?" 
 
 "I have often/' he answered; "but you 
 know we now hope that no such thing is 
 likely to happen." 
 
 " You say that to give me hope, Mr. Rock- 
 cliffe," she answered ; " but I heard you and 
 the other doctor say this morning that it 
 was likely that he might die from exhaus- 
 tion." 
 
 " How did you hear that V 
 
 " I overheard you. I could not help it, in- 
 deed I could not ; and I know that it is pos- 
 sible that poor papa may die. You think it 
 strange, perhaps, that I can speak to you so 
 calmly about it, but somehow I feel as though, 
 after mamma's death, nothing could ever be a 
 great trouble to me again. She was every- 
 thing to me. Papa has always been good to
 
 90 A Very Old Question. 
 
 me, but, oh, he was never what she was I 
 What do you think will become of me if he 
 dies, Mr. Bockcliffe t 
 
 " Supposing that he did," said Hammond, 
 " and though we all hope he will not, still, as 
 all must die some day, it is wiser to keep the 
 possibility of such a thing before us — suppos- 
 ing that he did, I hope that he would leave 
 you sufficient money to render all apprehen- 
 sion on your part unnecessary/' 
 
 Gertrude shook her head. 
 
 " You are wrong there, Mr. Rockcliffe. 
 Papa has no money. You know how hard he 
 always works ; — you know how simply we have 
 always lived at home. Often and often, when 
 I have asked mamma why we could not do 
 more as other people do, she has said because 
 papa could not afford it. Oh, no ! poor papa is 
 poor, and can leave me little or nothing, that 
 I know quite well ; and I have no friend ex- 
 cept Uncle Anthony, and I believe he is even 
 poorer than papa. And, oh, to go and live 
 with him would be terrible ! Don't blame 
 me, Mr. Rockcliffe, for talking like this to 
 you, for indeed I have no one else to talk to. 
 It may seem selfish to think of such a thing,
 
 A Premature Proposal. 91 
 
 but I really cannot help sometimes wondering 
 what would become of me if poor papa should 
 die." 
 
 Hammond Rockcliffe, who prided himself 
 upon his strength of mind, and who had made 
 such firm resolutions concerning his love for 
 Gertrude, suddenly yielded to temptation. 
 
 " Gertrude," he said. 
 
 She looked up quickly at his face, for it 
 was the first time he had called her by her 
 Christian name. 
 
 " Gertrude," he went on, speaking quickly 
 and passionately, ' ' if you can only place your 
 trust in me, you — so long as I may live — 
 have no need to wonder what will become of 
 you. I love you with all my heart, but I 
 would never have dared to have told you so 
 had you not confessed to me that you also 
 were alone in the world, and, like me, poor. 
 Poor, indeed, I am, and I have nothing to 
 offer you but a loving heart and a firm will to 
 devote to you my whole life. If you will 
 only accept me as your husband, Gertrude, I 
 will work for you and care for you as long as 
 I have life and strength." 
 
 He paused as though waiting for a reply.
 
 92 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Oh, Mr, Kockcliffe," she said, " you have 
 taken me so much by surprise, I do not know 
 what to say. I never thought for one moment 
 that you cared for me." 
 
 " And I never thought until this moment 
 that I could ever tell you so, though I fear 
 lately I have made but poor efforts to disguise 
 my love for you." 
 
 " I know that you have been very, very 
 good to us, Mr. Rockcliffe, but indeed I 
 never thought that you cared for me in that 
 way." 
 
 u But you can believe it now that I tell it, 
 can you not V 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I know that I can believe any- 
 thing that you say. I always have felt that 
 of you." 
 
 " Gertrude," he answered earnestly, " I 
 never in my life meant more fully what I said 
 than I do now. Whether you accept me for 
 your husband or not, I shall love you de- 
 votedly until I die. I hardly dare think 
 of the happiness which would be mine if you 
 would consent to be my wife ; still less do I 
 dare to think what will become of me if you 
 refuse me. I see that I have taken you
 
 A Premature Proposal. 93 
 
 wholly by surprise, and that you are not pre- 
 pared with an answer. Will you think over 
 it for two days, and then tell me whether you 
 will be my wife or not V 
 
 " I think that will be best," she said. " In- 
 deed I feel as though I could not answer you 
 now. If you will only give me a little 
 time " 
 
 " Take as long as you will," he said ; 
 " time is not likely to make any alteration in 
 my feelings towards you, Gertrude. Will 
 you give me an answer in a week's time V 
 
 " Oh, how good you are !" she said. " Yes, 
 in a week's time, if you will wait for me so 
 long." 
 
 " For all my life, Gertrude," he answered. 
 " Write me a letter in a week, and tell me 
 which way it shall be. If you say that it 
 cannot be as I wish, I would rather hear the 
 words by letter than from your lips. If you 
 can tell me that you love me well enough to 
 take me for your husband, believe me you 
 shall never again have need to wonder what 
 will become of you." 
 
 And so it was agreed between them that a 
 week should elapse before Gertrude should
 
 94 A Very Old Question, 
 
 give her answer. Some of our readers will 
 "be perhaps inclined to blame Hammond in 
 that he did not press his point more urgently, 
 but his was a peculiar disposition. He could 
 love well, but until he was assured that his 
 love was returned, he was unwilling to play 
 the lover; and, besides, he almost felt that 
 he was taking an ungenerous advantage of 
 Gertrude in asking her to be his wife at the 
 moment when she had confessed to him that 
 she had no one to whom to turn for help. 
 Many men similarly placed would have 
 thought it the best proof of their love which 
 they could offer, but Hammond was of a 
 singularly diffident and sensitive nature, and 
 was too ready to believe that he was receiving 
 favours, and too slow, too, to consider that 
 being a man, with a man's natural gifts, he 
 was sometimes able to confer them. No- 
 thing in a young man is more objectionable 
 than conceit ; but, on the other hand, nothing 
 is more likely to retard his progress than a 
 want of confidence in himself, and a lack of 
 belief in the powers and advantages with 
 which, in common with his fellow-men, nature 
 has endowed him. Hammond's offer to Ger-
 
 A Premature Proposal. 95 
 
 trude was in reality a generous and an un- 
 selfish one, but in his own mind he felt that, 
 should she accept it, the whole weight of the 
 obligation conferred would rest upon him. 
 
 It was characteristic of him that when 
 three days after he had asked her to be his 
 wife, and consequently when about half the 
 time had elapsed before she was to send him 
 her answer, Godfrey Northover took a decided 
 change for the better, and was announced by 
 the doctors to be out of any immediate danger, 
 he wrote her a few lines, telling her the good 
 news and confessing that when he had made 
 her his offer he had believed that her father 
 would not live, "and if this change in his 
 health should free her from her anxiety con- 
 cerning her future welfare, she must re- 
 member this, and not study his feelings in 
 the matter, although in any case his love for 
 her would remain unaltered. " 
 
 Poor Hammond ! for him those were days 
 of feverish excitement, for he felt that upon 
 the nature of Gertrude's answer the happiness 
 or the unhappiness of his future life depended ; 
 and yet he felt himself wholly unable to use 
 the slightest artifice to gain her love. That
 
 96 A Very Old Question. 
 
 love once gained would be to him an ines- 
 timable treasure, but he must be quite sure 
 that he had gained it fairly and not on false 
 pretences. 
 
 To Gertrude also the time was an anxious 
 one, and the poor girl felt sorely in need of a 
 friend to whom to turn for advice ; but, alas I 
 she had none but her father, and on such 
 a subject he was not in a fit state to be 
 spoken to. 
 
 Gertrude could not forget that brief time 
 of happiness when she had loved Percy, and 
 had believed that Percy loved her. It had 
 been the one romance of her young life, and the 
 impression which it had made upon her was 
 cruelly deep : but though in her heart of hearts 
 she still yearned for Percy — for his love, and 
 for his caresses, the brave little soul had firmly 
 made up her mind that any hope of in the 
 future marrying him was out of the question. 
 While her mother was alive she had schooled 
 herself to bear in silence her secret trouble, 
 and had thought of how to the end of her life 
 she would still love Percy, and would rejoice 
 to hear of his success in the world ; never 
 stepping in between him and his prospects by
 
 A Premature Proposal. 97 
 
 a reminder of his promises to her ; still less 
 ever giving her heart or hand to any other 
 man. 
 
 But now the world for her was altered. 
 Her loving mother and dear friend and com- 
 panion was gone, and her father seemed likely 
 to follow her, and it cannot be wondered at 
 that a young and inexperienced girl like 
 herself, whose only knowledge of the world 
 was that she had no friends in it, was appre- 
 hensive concerning her future lot. And while 
 her mind was full of forebodings upon this 
 subject, and at a time when she longed with 
 all her heart for some one upon whom to 
 lean and depend, Hammond Rockcliffe, whom 
 she believed to be one of the kindest and 
 most honourable men upon the earth, asked 
 her to be his wife. 
 
 Gertrude did not, could not forget what 
 she had felt for Percy, she thought of it and 
 him more than she had done any day since 
 her mother's death, and yet it was with quite 
 a new feeling in her heart that she longed to 
 throw herself into Hammond's strong arms 
 and to lay her head upon his shoulder. She 
 felt that to his care she could so fully trust 
 
 vol. i. 7
 
 98 A Very Old Question, 
 
 her life ; that to him — as her husband — she 
 could so confidently look up ; that to marry 
 him, and confide in him, would be altogether 
 so good for her ; and yet, strange to say, she 
 could not make up her mind to go to him. 
 
 It was because she felt that she did not 
 feel towards him as she had done towards 
 Percy, because she feared that she did not 
 love him as she ought to do if she were to 
 become his wife. 
 
 Poor Gertrude ! She then did not know 
 that there are many kinds of love, and so 
 could not distinguish between them, or decide 
 whether the feeling she had for Percy, or the 
 regard which she had for Hammond, should 
 form the key-note of her future life. 
 
 The end of the week came, and the morning* 
 of the day on which Hammond was to have 
 his answer had arrived before she had made 
 up her mind or had found herself able to write 
 anything to him, but as Hammond stood 
 alone in the sitting-room — the room in which 
 they had dined on the Christmas Day — she 
 came to him, and took his hand. 
 
 " I have no letter for you/' she said, almost 
 inaudibly, and looking on the ground.
 
 A Premature Proposal. 99 
 
 " No ?" he said ; " take more time if you 
 wish it, Gertrude ; I can wait — I can wait." 
 
 " I do not want any more time," she 
 answered ; " I want some one to advise me, 
 and I have no one but you. Will you do it 
 for me ?" 
 
 "But I am afraid mine would be such one- 
 sided advice." 
 
 "I believe it would go with my wishes." 
 
 " Gertrude — do you mean " 
 
 " I mean that I want to be your wife, 
 Hammond. Your good and loving wife, my 
 dear, but I do not know whether — whether I 
 ought to be " 
 
 " My darling," cried Hammond, " you do 
 not know how happy you are making me ; 
 but why, if you wish it, Gertrude, should it 
 not so be V 
 
 " Because, Hammond — I must tell you — I 
 cannot marry you unless I do — I once thought 
 — I once did love some one else, and " 
 
 " And you cannot love me, Gertrude — is 
 that it ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! oh no ! Oh, Hammond, Ham- 
 mond ! take me to you — tell me how to love 
 you as, for all your goodness to me, I ought 
 
 7—2
 
 100 A Very Old Question. 
 
 to do, and let me, oh ! let me, be your own 
 dear wife." 
 
 And Hammond took her to his heart ; and 
 as she clung to him sobbing, and yet, as she 
 looked up at him, smiling, he made a solemn 
 vow ; one which he never broke, that his 
 whole life should be one of loyalty and devo- 
 tion to her. 
 
 And so a new world opened itself for Ham- 
 mond, and for a time he went about with his 
 mind full of things which he had thought 
 could never concern him ; and with a heart 
 full of love for Gertrude, he already com- 
 menced to plan out their future life. 
 
 It was agreed between them, however, that 
 until Godfrey Northover was decidedly con- 
 valescent no word should be said -to him of 
 their engagement, for his present condition 
 was a very critical one, and a too sudden 
 shock might do such harm as could not after- 
 wards be repaired. 
 
 It was about ten days after Gertrude had 
 consented to become Hammond's wife that the 
 invalid showed himself to be so far recovered 
 that he asked Hammond if he could find time 
 to go for him to his office in America Square,
 
 A Premature Proposal. 101 
 
 and ascertain certain facts connected with the 
 business, which during his illness had naturally 
 been confided to the care of his brother 
 Anthony. 
 
 Hammond of course consented to go, and 
 in the course of the day found himself in 
 America Square, where Anthony was in- 
 stalled in the chief office, and which apart- 
 ment was I regret to say, exceedingly redolent 
 of the odour of stale tobacco smoke. 
 
 Having answered the questions which 
 Hammond had been requested to put to him, 
 Anthony relapsed into friendly conversation. 
 
 " Ah ! it's been a bad job for Godfrey 
 losing his wife," he said ; " and [ don't wonder 
 it broke him down, for between you and me, 
 he never did what I call the right thing by 
 her. Bless us, how pale and worn the poor 
 creature always used to look, to be sure. 
 Why, many and many a time we've said at 
 home ; ' Well, if Mrs. G. has good living she 
 don't do justice to it.' Now, just look at my 
 wife. I never denied that woman anything — 
 and what's the consequence, she's as plump as 
 a partridge ; and considering the family she's 
 had, her health's a perfect marvel.'*'
 
 102 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " People look at matters in different lights," 
 said Hammond, "and I am quite sure your 
 brother always did the right thing by his 
 wife, only he is too conscientious a man to 
 indulge himself, or any one else, in luxuries 
 which he cannot afford." 
 
 " Ah, that's a dig at me," said Anthony. 
 "All right, my friend, my back's pretty 
 broad, and I can bear it ; but as for not being 
 able to afford, that's nonsense, you know." 
 
 " I don't know, indeed," said Hammond. 
 " I know that the majority of people have to 
 live within their incomes, and that in many 
 cases the little which they have is reduced by 
 the wicked extravagance of those who are un- 
 principled enough to live beyond them." 
 
 " I say, you'd have made a first-rate par- 
 son," said Anthony ; " but you shouldn't 
 come down like that on a member of the family, 
 should you now ?" 
 
 " I really don't know what you mean," said 
 Hammond, seeing that the other waited for a 
 reply. 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you," said Anthony good- 
 humouredly. " Of course things do get 
 about, and young chaps can't very well go
 
 A Premature Proposal, 103 
 
 courting without its getting talked about. 
 Well, it's the talk among our girls at home 
 that you're paying your addresses to my 
 niece, Gertrude. I was a bit taken to when 
 I first heard about it, for I had all along 
 meant my young Fred to have her ; but it 
 seems he's doing a bit of courting on his own 
 account in another quarter, and don't see it. 
 So I wish you luck, Mr. Rockcliffe ; but, at 
 the same time, I do say, let the family be 
 friends, and if you're to be one of us, let's 
 shake hands upon it." 
 
 Hammond was so much taken aback by 
 this sudden outburst (for, like a good many 
 other young men similarly situated, he had 
 fondly hoped and believed that his attach- 
 ment to Gertrude was a thing known only to 
 himself) that before he could find words in 
 which to reply to him, he was fain to take 
 Anthony's proffered hand. 
 
 " That's hearty," said the smiling Anthony. 
 " There's nothing like a family pulling well 
 together. I've expected this would turn out 
 as it has done, for when Mrs. G. died, and 
 Godfrey was kid up, and I heard how 3^011 
 and Gertrude was left alone in the house,
 
 104 A Very Old Question. 
 
 and was always together, as you may say, I 
 said to my old woman, ' Depend upon it, that 
 young spark will make up to Gertrude ;' and 
 I congratulate you, my boy, on having 
 dropped in for a good thing. But, I say, 
 have you any idea how good a thing it is ?" 
 
 And here Anthony came close to Ham- 
 mond, and still smiling, peered into his face. 
 
 (i Really, Mr. Northover," Hammond com- 
 menced, " you profess to know a great 
 deal " 
 
 " And I do know a great deal," said An- 
 thony, " more than I did till I was left here 
 alone, and had a chance of overhauling some 
 of the books. I always knew, mind you, 
 that Godfrey had feathered his nest, but I 
 didn't know that he was worth better than 
 fifty thousand pounds I" 
 
 " Fifty thousand pounds !" 
 
 " Ah, fifty thousand pounds, and more than 
 that." 
 
 " Impossible !" 
 
 " Ah, I don't wonder you say that, and 
 him living at that pokey little place up in 
 Islington. He always was a rum one, was 
 Godfrey. Gertrude's his only child, too. Oh,
 
 A Premature Proposal. 105 
 
 you're a lucky one, you are ! It's more than 
 you thought, eh V 
 
 " Mr. Northover," said Hammond, greatly 
 agitated, " are these indeed facts which you 
 are telling me, or mere suppositions on your 
 part?" 
 
 " Facts, my boy ; facts, facts, facts ! See 
 here, as you're to be his son-in-law, I consider 
 it's only right you should know. I'll show 
 you the books " 
 
 " Stop !" said Hammond, rising and laying 
 his hand upon Anthony's arm as that indis- 
 creet gentleman was proceeding to unlock the 
 safe and produce the books — " stop ! you are 
 mistaken. I am not engaged to be married to 
 your niece, I am not even a suitor for her hand. 
 The report which you have heard is a false one." 
 
 " Gammon," said Anthony. 
 
 " Sir," said Hammond, " it is the truth ; 
 and I shall hold myself indebted to you if 
 you will take an early opportunity of contra- 
 dicting it, quoting me as your authority for 
 so doing. I wish you good-morning." 
 
 And Hammond left the room, leaving An- 
 thony to ponder on what he had heard, and 
 to consider whether there might not now be
 
 106 A Very Old Question. 
 
 some chance of securing Gertrude and her 
 money for "young Fred." 
 
 As for Hammond, he went from the office 
 feeling that all his hopes were blighted and 
 crushed. If Gertrude were indeed an heiress, 
 it was impossible, according to his notions, 
 that he could marry her until he had placed 
 himself in a position equal to her own. He 
 knew well that she had accepted him for her 
 husband, believing that she was without 
 money or friends, and knowing him to be 
 poor ; and he had recognised the fact that she 
 had appreciated the care and protection which 
 his love had offered her. He had recognised 
 the fact, and had rejoiced in it, for it had 
 opened to him a vast field of opportunity in 
 which he might prove to her the loyalty and 
 the disinterestedness of his love for her ; but 
 to marry her, and to live upon her money — 
 to have it the common talk of the town that 
 he had known of her wealth, and had taken 
 advantage, while her father was ill, to win her 
 affections — for he well knew that Anthony's 
 busy tongue would wag of their interview — 
 were things which appeared to him less en- 
 durable than even a separation from her.
 
 A Premature Proposal. 107 
 
 And yet to give her up after he had once 
 won her ! After he had felt the joy of pos- 
 sessing her love ! — after he had been made 
 transcendently happy by her caresses ! Poor 
 Hammond, he did indeed feel it hard to think 
 that he might have to fall from such a 
 heaven ! 
 
 But his was a peculiarly resolute nature, 
 and he could no more go on without telling 
 her something of what he had heard, and of 
 how it would affect their relations towards 
 one another, than he would knowingly have 
 done her an injury. 
 
 He told her, therefore, that he had reason 
 to believe that her father was not in the 
 straitened circumstances in which she had 
 imagined him to be, and that if this was so 
 she must reconsider her consent to become his 
 wife — the wife of so poor a man ; and that 
 even if she still felt she could do so, they 
 must wait until he had means sufficient to 
 offer her a home equal to any which her father 
 could provide for her. 
 
 Gertrude, however, smiled at this report, 
 and kissing him, said that " She should never 
 be able to afford to lose her protector, and
 
 108 A Very Old Question. 
 
 had quite made up her mind to become the 
 industrious wife of a good, hard-working hus- 
 band." 
 
 " We shall see," said Hammond. " When 
 your father is sufficiently well to be talked to 
 on the subject, we shall be able to ascertain 
 the truth. In the meantime, you will only 
 consider yourself conditionally engaged to 
 me." 
 
 And during the time, until Gertrude did 
 really learn the truth, poor Hammond made 
 somewhat of a fool of himself ; for, instead of 
 being continually by her side, and endearing 
 himself daily to her, as lately he had suc- 
 ceeded most admirably in doing, he kept aloof 
 from her, and at times was so cold and con- 
 strained in his manner towards her, that poor 
 little Gertrude, who had begun to love him 
 very fondly, believing him to be the best and 
 wisest man she had ever known, began first to 
 think him proud, then unkind, and lastly, 
 changeable ; and so she became almost as un- 
 happy as he was. 
 
 It was about three weeks after this had 
 happened that the invalid was so far re- 
 covered that he was able to get up and sit in
 
 A Premature Proposal. 109 
 
 a,n arm-chair by the fire. Hammond had 
 helped him to dress, and had placed him 
 there, and Gertrude had come into the room, 
 and seating herself on a footstool by her 
 father's feet, was holding his hand in hers. 
 On the other side of the fire-place Hammond 
 was standing, leaning with his elbow on the 
 chimney-piece. The day was drawing to a 
 close, and the room was as yet only lighted 
 by the fire, which at one moment made every 
 object bright and clear, at the next left them 
 in comparative darkness, when Godfrey North- 
 over spoke : 
 
 " I never," he said, as he affectionately 
 pressed his daughter's hand, u I never ex- 
 pected that T should sit up and talk to you 
 again, my dear, and, God forgive me, I think I 
 prayed at one time that I might die and go 
 to your poor mother, that I might tell her 
 that I knew at last — alas ! too late, too late — 
 that I had not done my duty to her, as 
 Heaven knows I meant to do it." 
 
 " Dear father," said Gertrude, " what makes 
 you always say that ? When you were so ill 
 that you did not know what you were talk- 
 ing about, that was your constant cry. You
 
 110 A Very Old Question. 
 
 must not say that any more, father, for every 
 one knows — I better than any one else — that 
 you were as good to mamma as good could 
 be." 
 
 " No, Gertrude/' said Godfrey, shaking his 
 head mournfully, " I was not ; and you, my 
 poor child, though you think you should know 
 better than any one else, probably know the 
 least about it, and that has been my fault. I 
 must tell you now how it came about, for it 
 is time that you should know. Do not go, 
 Mr. Rockcliffe ; you have proved yourself such 
 a true friend to me and mine that I am not 
 ashamed for you to hear my confession, and I 
 wish also that you should know my future 
 plans." 
 
 Hammond remained where he was, leaning 
 on the chimney-piece, knowing full well what 
 was to come. By the flickering firelight he 
 could see Gertrude's sweet face as she looked 
 inquiringly at her father, and he felt, too,' 
 that in it he should soon read his doom. 
 
 " Gertrude," went on Godfrey, " has your 
 life — has your home always been a happy 
 one V 
 
 " Oh, father, you know that it has."
 
 A Premature Proposal. Ill 
 
 " Have you always had everything that you 
 wanted ¥ 
 
 " Everything that has been good or neces- 
 sary for me I am sure. Sometimes, of course, 
 I have wanted foolish things, like other foolish 
 people have done before me." 
 
 " "What sort of things ¥ 
 
 " Oh, father, things that you always called 
 silly. I have wanted more company, and 
 smarter things, and — and gaiety, and things a 
 young girl does want." 
 
 " Did your mother call them silly too ?" 
 
 " No, I don t think she did." 
 
 " Do not you think, Gertrude, that she 
 would have liked to have shared with you in 
 some of these things V 
 
 " Yes, father, I think she would, if we 
 could have had them ; but not as it was, for 
 she explained to me many and many a time 
 why we could not." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why, father ? Because those things cost 
 money, and because you could not afford to let 
 us have them." 
 
 " Oh, Gertrude, Gertrude, that has been 
 my fault, and that is my misery. I could
 
 112 A Very Old Question. 
 
 afford it — well afford it. Many and many a 
 time have I denied her things that she has 
 asked for, and now she will never again ask 
 me for anything. You, Gertrude, tell me my 
 fault as plainly as it can be told. You have 
 believed me poor — you, my own child — and I 
 am what the world would call very rich." 
 
 Gertrude looked quickly up at Hammond, 
 but his eyes were fixed on the fire. 
 
 " Father/' she asked almost breathlessly, 
 " are you in earnest ?" 
 
 " Aye," he said in a voice of affected gaiety, 
 " in good sober earnest ; and so you shall 
 soon find out, my darling. My Gertrude 
 shall live like a little princess, and everything 
 that she can think of shall be hers. See, my 
 plans are these. Directly I have made proper 
 arrangements for giving up the business, you 
 and I will go together, dear, to some seaside 
 place, and when I have quite regained my 
 health and strength, you shall say where our' 
 future home shall be, and what it shall be 
 like. It is this thought, dear Gertrude, that 
 I can still make you happy, which alone for 
 me makes life worth having." 
 
 Gertrude was so thoroughly taken by sur-
 
 A Premature Proposal. 113 
 
 prise that she could say hardly one word ; 
 and Hammond, excusing himself, hastily left 
 the room. 
 
 He went downstairs into the lonely sitting- 
 room, that room in which Gertrude had so 
 lately told him that she would be his wife, 
 and, throwing himself into a chair, buried his 
 face in his hands, feeling that his brief dream 
 of happiness had indeed gone, and cursing the 
 day on which he had allowed the secret of his 
 love for Gertrude to escape him. 
 
 He had sat there almost an hour, when the 
 door opened, and Gertrude herself stood by 
 his side. 
 
 " Hammond," she said, laying her hand 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Well V he asked. " You see that what I 
 told you was true." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I see that it is true ; but 
 why it should make so much difference between 
 you and me I cannot see." 
 
 " Cannot you V he said bitterly. 
 
 " No," she answered. " My father said just 
 now in your hearing that henceforth I might 
 do what I like, live where I like ; but I can- 
 not see that I have a will of my own in the 
 
 vol. I. 8
 
 114 A Very Old Question. 
 
 matter. My will is yours, for I have promised 
 to be your wife." 
 
 " And do you think/' he said, u that I would 
 keep you to your promise — that promise which 
 you made to me when you thought you were 
 alone and friendless in the world, and when, 
 God knows, I thought so too — now that you 
 are so rich that if I married you I should live 
 upon your bounty, and all the world would 
 jeer at and despise me !" 
 
 " Is, then, your pride stronger than your 
 love for me V 
 
 "In some things, yes. My pride is so 
 strong that I would have you marry me for 
 love, and not because you are bound to me by 
 a promise. My love for you is so great that 
 I would see you with a husband who could 
 support you, not one dependent upon 
 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Hammond, and shall you then leave 
 me V 
 
 Poor Hammond had an unhappy propensity 
 for saying unpleasant things. He said that 
 now which possibly cost him the happiness of 
 his life. 
 
 " If I do leave you, Gertrude, I shall at least
 
 A Premature Proposal. 115 
 
 have the satisfaction of knowing that I do not 
 leave you heart-broken. You know you have 
 confessed to me that I am not your first love. 
 You may perhaps meet him again, and under 
 your altered circumstances, you may possibly 
 find in him a more eligible husband than in 
 myself. And that you will find him, under 
 altered circumstances, ready to renew his pro- 
 testations, I do not doubt." 
 
 Gertrude's eyes flashed fire. 
 
 "Mr. Rockcliffe," she said, "your pride 
 does indeed exceed your love, and makes you 
 cruel to one who could really have loved you. 
 What I have done to deserve your reproaches, 
 I do not know. Good-bye, and remember 
 that it was you, and not I, who broke off our 
 engagement." 
 
 And so they parted. 
 
 From the very moment when Hammond 
 had learned that Godfrey Northover was a 
 rich and not a poor man, he had told himself 
 that such a parting was inevitable, and with- 
 out staying to consider how much he might be 
 the cause of his own unhappiness, endeavoured 
 to resign himself to his fate. If he could have 
 named the secret wish of his heart, he would 
 
 8—2
 
 116 A Very Old Question, 
 
 have had Gertrude implore him not to break 
 off their engagement, but to go and work for 
 her until he had the means to make her his 
 wife, during which time she would wait 
 patiently and lovingly for him ; but he could 
 not bring himself to hint at such a thing, and, 
 alas for his own hopes, he did not by his 
 manner even let her know that he had thought 
 of it. While she was friendless he had felt 
 himself to be strong, and had had something 
 to offer ; now, however, she was rich, and so, 
 according to his reasoning, he could not 
 worthily become her husband until his posi- 
 tion in the world was equal to her own. But 
 he did not blame her for not clinging to him. 
 He told himself that he could have expected 
 nothing else, and that his only regret ought 
 to be, that he could ever have been such a 
 fool as to have imagined that he could have 
 made any one, and her above all persons in 
 the world, his wife. 
 
 As for poor Gertrude, for some time she 
 believed that Hammond would come to her 
 again, and asking her pardon for his harsh 
 words, would take her once more to his arms ; 
 and if he had done so, she would have been
 
 A Premature Proposal. 117 
 
 as true to him as her young and loving nature 
 would have taught her to be to one who, 
 when she was alone, had offered her his pro- 
 tection and his love ; but he came not, and 
 with a woman's sensibility she felt that she 
 was being slighted, and believing that she 
 had altogether mistaken his character, she set 
 him down as rough, jealous, and fickle. 
 
 The taunt which he had thrown out con- 
 cerning Percy had wounded her deeply (all 
 the more so because, in some measure, it had 
 struck home), and as the days went by and 
 he made no sign or offer of reconciliation, she 
 began, rather through pique than anything 
 else, to dwell upon his words, and to wonder 
 to herself whether in her altered lot she might 
 not again meet with him whom she had 
 thought dead to her. 
 
 And the thought of Percy was with Ger- 
 trude still such very dangerous ground, that 
 at length she could not drive it away, and 
 each day that went by, and Hammond still 
 remained silent, his chance of being foremost 
 in her mind became less and less. 
 
 And so matters remained until the day 
 arrived when the house in Gibson Square was
 
 118 A Very Old Question. 
 
 given up, when Godfrey Northover went with 
 his daughter away to the sea coast, and when 
 Hammond Rockcliffe was compelled to seek 
 for himself a new home.
 
 Down at Keriden. 119 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DOWN AT KERIDEN. 
 
 It is perhaps scarcely to be wondered at that 
 Godfrey Northover and his daughter having 
 left London, Hammond Rockcliffe should 
 take a distaste for the place, and gladly avail 
 himself of an offer of an appointment as assis- 
 tant resident surgeon at one of the hospitals in 
 Blackhampton (a large manufacturing town 
 in the South of Staffordshire) which at this 
 time came to him. Since the commencement 
 of this story Hammond had passed his exami- 
 nations, and was fully qualified to practise as 
 a surgeon, and it was through the kindness of 
 an old fellow-student that this offer had come. 
 The post was neither a very lucrative nor a 
 very desirable one, and certainly under other 
 circumstances before accepting it he would
 
 120 A Very Old Question. 
 
 have hesitated, but he now felt that it would 
 suit well the turn of his humour, and that in 
 change of scene, and in the variety of his 
 future occupation, he would find the best 
 relief from the despondency into which recent 
 events had thrown him. 
 
 He wrote therefore a letter accepting the 
 appointment, and by the same post despatched 
 one also to his uncle Gregory Rockcliffe, tell- 
 ing him that he would come down and spend 
 a few days with him at Keriden, the little 
 Staffordshire village in which the Rockcliffes 
 live, around which the .Rockcliffe acres lay, 
 and where Hammond, by virtue of his rela- 
 tionship, was from time to time expected to 
 report himself and his doings. 
 
 The little village of Keriden lay on the high- 
 road (it had once been the coach-road) which 
 ran from Blackhampton northwards, and wa& 
 about twelve miles distant from that busy 
 town. Keriden indeed probably owed its 
 existence to the fact of its being intersected 
 by that fine old roadway, and of its having 
 been once the halting-place of coaches, for one 
 of the largest of its buildings was still the 
 stately old roadside inn yclept the " Keriden
 
 Doivn at Keriden. 121 
 
 Arms," which had been once the resort of 
 post-boys, stage-coach drivers and guards, and 
 the servants of the Lords of Keriden (whose 
 country seat was close at hand), but which 
 in these degenerate days, when wayside 
 hostelries with their substantial, cheering fare, 
 have given place to railway -station refresh- 
 ment-rooms with cups of tea and coffee which 
 no one can drink, and of aerated waters which 
 would have chilled the blood of the three- 
 bottle gentry of the last century, stood gaunt, 
 lonely and profitless, and was but too glad of 
 the scanty custom of the inhabitants of the 
 village ; and whereas at one time a goodly 
 stage-coach breakfast was spread daily in its 
 coffee-room, it could now barely provide a chop 
 and potatoes for the very few who occasionally 
 halted there and demanded that a dinner 
 should be supplied them. 
 
 The Lords of Keriden now but very rarely 
 visited the home which bore their name, and 
 which had for generation upon generation been 
 the home of their fathers ; if ever the present 
 lord did come down, it was with a whole posse 
 of land surveyors with ominous-looking mea- 
 suring chains and levelling instruments, and
 
 122 A Very Old Question. 
 
 at such times there would be much talk in 
 the village and at the " Keriden Arms" about 
 the project which was in my lord's eye of 
 sinking for coal, and of cutting up the 
 picturesque old park; but year after year 
 went by and nothing was done, and while the 
 inhabitants of the place were thankful, and 
 prayed that they might end their days in the 
 happy rustic tranquillity which they had long 
 enjoyed, the landlord of the "Arms" grew 
 gloomy and taciturn as he saw receding farther 
 and farther from him the only chance which 
 had ever offered itself of restoring to his hostel 
 some of the prosperity (if indeed of a different 
 kind) of its bygone days. 
 
 The village itself was very small, but 
 undeniably picturesque. Opposite to the 
 Keriden Arms, with its sheet of water in 
 which horses would stand knee-deep slaking 
 their thirst, and occasionally — to the great con- 
 sternation of their riders — affect to lie down, 
 and upon which a pair of swans majestically 
 swam and plumed themselves ; just opposite 
 was the church, the age of which might be 
 gathered from the time-honoured inscriptions 
 on the gravestones in its thickly yew-tree-
 
 Down at Keriden. 123 
 
 shadowed churchyard, and close to this again 
 was the fine old stone-built vicarage. Then 
 there were hosts of labourers' cottages nestling 
 closely together, which if not " models," either 
 externally or internally, were, by reason of the 
 creeping plants which overshadowed them and 
 thatched roofs which covered them, decidedly 
 pleasing to the eye. That prosperous farms 
 abounded in the neighbourhood was testified 
 by the prosperous farmers who on market-days 
 trotted on their stout cobs, or in good old- 
 fashioned gigs drove their wives through the 
 village to Blackhampton, and the well cul- 
 tivated fields which for miles bounded on 
 both sides the roadway. 
 
 On the north, east, and south the country 
 was flat ; but in the west there were hills of 
 a sufficiently rugged character to give to the 
 village the advantage of being able to descry 
 that inevitable profile of an old woman's face 
 distinctly to be traced on the hill-side, which 
 is the supposed characteristic of almost every 
 group of hillocks, hills, or mountains in Great 
 Britain, and which must long ago have become 
 a horror to those unimaginative minds who are 
 unable to follow the more inventive (or shall
 
 124 A Very Old Question. 
 
 I say credulous ?) of their fellow-creatures,, 
 who expect that every picture which they 
 may see in a glowing fire must be patent to 
 the world at large. 
 
 Of the gentry who dwelt in Keriden the 
 most important, next to Lord Keriden himself, 
 were undoubtedly the Rockcliftes of the Manor 
 House — a fine old place with a moat round it, 
 and endowed with a sufficiently good rent- 
 roll — sufficient, that is to say, for one who is 
 not unlucky enough to be blessed with five 
 sons, each one of whom has a soul above 
 work, and a disposition to spend more money 
 than the estate can provide for them collec- 
 tively. 
 
 It was late in the month of November 
 when Hammond Rockcliffe arrived at Keriden. 
 A long time had elapsed since he had last 
 paid his relatives a visit, for in truth he little 
 relished his position with them, and was at all 
 times only too ready to construe their conduct 
 towards him into patronage. It was, however, 
 understood that a welcome always awaited 
 him at the Manor House, and as, without 
 rendering him any substantial assistance, his 
 uncle always considered himself in the light
 
 Down at Keriden. 125 
 
 of his guardian and adviser, Hammond felt 
 himself under an obligation to tell him of any 
 change in his prospects, and at long intervals 
 to sojourn for a day or two beneath his 
 roof. 
 
 The present visit did not promise to be a 
 very pleasant one. 
 
 " Well, Hammond," said his uncle Gregory, 
 as he sat in his study arm-chair and held out 
 his hand to him ; " it is a long time since you 
 have been down here to see us, but you are 
 like all the young men of the present day 
 I suppose, and have but little respect for the 
 elders of your family, and but little sense of 
 the duty which you owe to them." 
 
 " I owe but little in this world to any man, 
 sir," said Hammond. " Pardon me for saying 
 so, but that is about the only consolation which 
 as a poor man I can enjoy." 
 
 " Ungracious as ever, I see," said his uncle, 
 somewhat testily. " Well, sir, does anything 
 special bring you here now, or does it simply 
 suit your purpose to avail yourself of my 
 hospitality V' 
 
 " I am making a change in my way of life," 
 said Hammond, " and thought it well to
 
 126 A Very Old Question. 
 
 apprise you of it. It is not my custom to do 
 things covertly." 
 
 " I hope the change is one of which I shall 
 approve. You know my views concerning 
 you and your prospects, and I have faith in 
 you so far, that I believe you would do nothing 
 outrageously foolish. When you passed your 
 last examination, you know I wrote and 
 advised you to get yourself appointed as 
 surgeon to some ship. Do you come to tell 
 me you have done so ?" 
 
 " No. I am not going out of England/' 
 
 " Arid why not, sir ? It was my express 
 wish that you should practise as surgeon on 
 board ship. It is impossible for you to buy 
 either a practice or a partnership, and it would 
 have been far preferable to me that one who 
 bears my name should practise on board 
 ship than as a mere surgeon's assistant, which 
 is otherwise what you will have to do. Why 
 did you not act in accordance with my 
 wishes V 
 
 " It is not easy to get yourself appointed, as 
 you put it, without influence — and I have 
 none. Besides, even if I had, I do not wish, 
 or mean to be drafted out of my own country
 
 Doimi at Keriden. 127 
 
 because I happen to bear your name. I 
 never have, and never shall do anything 
 unworthy of it." 
 
 " I do not say that you have. I do not say 
 that you have," said Gregory, somewhat 
 apologetically. "Well, sir, what is it that 
 you are going to do V 
 
 " I have accepted the appointment of assis- 
 tant-surgeon to the Blackhampton Hospital." 
 
 " Blackhampton ! Why, deuce take it, sir, 
 you'll be within a stone's throw ! This is too 
 bad, Hammond. You might have considered 
 my feelings more than this." 
 
 11 1 did not expect that you would like it, 
 sir ; but being in the unenviable position of a 
 beggar, I am unable to place myself in that 
 of a chooser. You remind me that Black- 
 hampton is very near at hand. I can go there 
 to-night, and then my presence will cease to 
 be an annoyance to you." 
 
 " No, no ; you will stay here, of course. I 
 shall not quarrel with you about it, Hammond. 
 But you know my prejudices, and should have 
 respected them. Blackhampton, too, is a place 
 of all others which I dislike, and I cannot 
 reconcile myself to the idea that you, who are
 
 128 A Very Old Question. 
 
 my nephew, and bear my name, should work 
 there for a paltry salary." 
 
 " The paltry salary, sir, I fear, I can hardly 
 forego ; but with regard to the name which 
 we both bear, pardon me, if I suggest that 
 Blackhampton is a busy place, and that in all 
 probability your name there is altogether un- 
 known." 
 
 " You have no right to suggest or to infer 
 any such thing, sir. The RockclifTes are 
 known all over the Midland Counties." 
 
 " I merely threw it out, hoping it might 
 console you," said Hammond. " You must 
 remember I have passed much of my time 
 lately in London." 
 
 " The Rockcliffes should be known all over 
 England, sir, and would be if my sons upheld 
 their name as they should do. But they do 
 not treat me as they ought to do, and ruin 
 me with their extravagances." 
 
 " I thought I had heard, however, that 
 Percy was doing exceedingly well, and giving 
 you every satisfaction." 
 
 "Yes, yes; there you are right. Percy is 
 giving me every satisfaction, and will be a 
 credit to my name."
 
 Down at Keriden. 129 
 
 " He took a wonderful turn for the better, 
 I am told, when he so unexpectedly came in 
 for his aunt's money." 
 
 " Percy always conducted himself like a 
 gentleman, and well becomes the position 
 which he now holds. Your inference, Ham- 
 mond, smarts of jealousy, and I do not like it. 
 Percy is down here now for the hunting, and 
 has friends with him whom I am proud to 
 welcome. You will meet them at dinner, and 
 I shall esteem it a favour if before them you 
 will make no mention of your unhappy Black- 
 ham pton project." 
 
 And here Gregory Rockcliffe waved his 
 hand, signifying that the conversation was at 
 an end, and that Hammond might withdraw 
 from his august presence. 
 
 That evening the dinner at the Manor 
 House was on a more than ordinarily extensive 
 scale. In honour of Percy and his friends — 
 who with him had come down from London 
 to enjoy a few days of Midland Counties 
 hunting — several guests had been invited, and 
 added to these were those members of the 
 family who still lived beneath the paternal 
 roof-tree, including of course Gregory Rock- 
 
 vol. i. 9
 
 130 A Very Old Question. 
 
 cliffe, junior, a good-looking, and, according 
 to his lights, a well-meaning young man, and 
 the second son, the black sheep of the family, 
 who, as we have said had been intended for 
 the Church, but having run to riot at college, 
 and by reason of his debts wearied his father, 
 had since led an entirely useless life at home, 
 and who now varied a daily effort to terminate 
 his existence with the use — or rather the 
 abase — of strong liquors, by an occasional one 
 to do so by instantaneous and violent means. 
 
 Mrs. Rockcliffe was a ]ady who knew well 
 how to play the part of hostess, and her 
 husband never shone so well as when seated 
 at the head of his own table — (that is providing 
 that guests were present) — so the evening 
 passed away pleasantly enough, Hammond, 
 for his part, deriving no little amusement 
 from the change in Percy's manner towards 
 his parents, and their altered bearing towards 
 him. 
 
 The accession of some hundreds a year had 
 indeed wrought great changes in this young 
 gentleman, and it seemed almost incredible 
 that only a few months had elapsed since he 
 had passed a Christmas Day in banishment in
 
 Down at Keriden. 131 
 
 Gibson Square, Islington ; whereas formerly 
 he had been in continual disgrace at home, 
 and was barely tolerated at the dinner table, 
 he now " spoke as one having authority," and 
 was noticeably deferred to by his father. 
 
 Percy now lived again in London, but in 
 different quarters from his old ones, having 
 indeed chambers in Half Moon Street, Picca- 
 dilly, and mixing in the best of society, and 
 so it was only occasionally that he honoured 
 Keriden Manor House with a visit, where, in 
 place of the very qualified welcome which in 
 former days had awaited him, the fatted calf 
 would be killed, and the most distinguished 
 friends invited to meet him. 
 
 But the chief change in him was that 
 whereas in the old days, when it was seldom 
 that he had a sovereign of his own in his 
 pocket, he had been lavish with his money, 
 had run into debt wherever he had been able 
 to do so, and railed loudly at anything which 
 savoured of parsimony ; in these altered ones 
 when he was in possession of a good income 
 and an elastic banking account, he spoke 
 sagely of economy, and not only looked after 
 his pounds but kept a watchful eye also upon 
 
 9—2
 
 132 A Very Old Question. 
 
 his shillings and upon his pence, and seemed 
 to have no patience with those who did not 
 live within their incomes. On himself he did 
 not spare money, for, as he said, it was neces- 
 sary that he should live well, dress well, and 
 generally keep up a good appearance, for the 
 sake of the name which he bore : no wonder 
 that his father was proud and felt hopeful of 
 his youngest son. 
 
 Towards Hammond his manner was ex- 
 ceedingly friendly, and if that sensitive young 
 man set it down as being patronising, we 
 must remember how exceedingly ready he 
 was to take offence. They had not met since 
 Percy had left Gibson Square and the North- 
 overs, and though this was a period of but a 
 few months, Percy seemed almost to have for- 
 gotten the nature of his old life in London, 
 and if Hammond mentioned any circumstance 
 connected with it had to think quite a long 
 time before he could recall it to his memory. 
 
 "I don't know whether either of you 
 fellows know," said he, addressing his friends, 
 as he stood that evening with his back to the 
 fire in the billiard-room at the Manor House, 
 where all the young men were assembled
 
 Down at Keriden. 133 
 
 smoking, " that I once took it into my head 
 to study medicine, and did a lot of hospital 
 work in London, but that has been one of my 
 experiences, and I and my cousin here, who 
 studies medicine in downright earnest, lived 
 together, and went in for it together quite in 
 the rough and ready way." 
 
 One of his friends wondered, "What the 
 deuce could have induced him to do that ?" 
 
 " Oh, it was an experience," said Percy 
 with a laugh ; " and no one knows how useful 
 it may come in some day. I often laugh over 
 the life I lived in the old days, Hammond — 
 don't you P 
 
 " Considering that it is the life which I 
 have to lead at the present day, my time for 
 laughing has hardly yet come,"said Hammond, 
 who was amused, and consequently inclined 
 to be good-humoured. 
 
 One of Percy's friends was here understood 
 to murmur, " Hard' lines ;" while the other 
 wondered, " How a man could stand it, you 
 know." 
 
 " And yet do you know," said Percy, " I 
 sometimes envy you. Look at you, a man 
 without a care."
 
 134 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Without a care/' repeated Hammond. 
 
 " I don't know any one worse off in this 
 world," said Percy, who seemed inclined to be 
 communicative, "than a man from whom a 
 lot is expected. Look at me. A fellow with 
 plenty of money, you say, and yet to keep up 
 the appearance which is demanded of me in 
 the society in which I mix, costs so much that 
 I can assure you I sometimes get positively 
 bored for the want of ready cash." 
 
 To this state of things both his friends 
 avowed they were no strangers, and ex- 
 pressed with him a hearty sympathy. 
 
 " Of course," said Hammond, " it is not for 
 me, a man without a care, to hazard an opinion 
 on the subject, but if I had one I fancy it 
 would be that it would be as well to mix in 
 society which did not expect so much of you. 
 I don't think I should ever allow society to 
 cause me anxiety." 
 
 " My dear old fellow," said Percy, " you 
 know nothing at all about it. How can you, 
 living the Bohemian life you do, comprehend 
 the life of a man who lives at the West-end ? 
 Why, positively this fellow," he continued 
 speaking to his friends, " drones away his
 
 Down at Keriden. 135 
 
 existence at Islington. Islington, in the north 
 of London, you know ; and what's more, I 
 actually did the same thing for a time, 'pon 
 my honour I did." 
 
 This confession naturally caused no little 
 astonishment, and one of those addressed 
 opined, " that there must have been a pretty 
 strong attraction at Islington to induce a fel- 
 low to live there three days. He had been 
 there once to the Horse Show at the Agricul- 
 tural Hall, and, by Jove, he thought he was 
 being driven to the Antipodes, and that the 
 place had made him perfectly ill — laid him up 
 for a whole day, in fact ; but he remembered 
 once having heard a song about a bailiff's 
 daughter at Islington, who, he believed, had 
 been a dooced pretty girl, and perhaps some- 
 thing of that sort had induced Percy to stay 
 there, for a fellow could do almost anything 
 for a pretty girl." 
 
 Percy laughed. 
 
 "That's not a bad shot," said he; '"for 
 though I can't say I ever stumbled across the 
 original bailiff's daughter, there was a land- 
 lord's daughter at Islington who was the most 
 engaging little thing I ever saw. Ah, fasci-
 
 136 A Very Old Question, 
 
 nating little Gerty ! I haven't forgotten her 
 yet, Hammond. I was very nearly making a 
 fool of myself over that little lady, 'pon my 
 honour I was. You've seen her lately, no 
 doubt?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I saw her a few days ago," said 
 Hammond. 
 
 " Don't say she's as pretty as ever," said 
 Percy, " or I am afraid I shall think of pitch- 
 ing my tent at Islington again." 
 
 Here the two friends both declared that 
 they must know more of this little enchant- 
 ress, demanded to see her photograph, and 
 besought both Hammond and Percy to give 
 them her address. The latter laughed good- 
 hum ouredly at all this, for, being exceedingly 
 well pleased with himself, he felt on excellent 
 terms with every one else ; but the former 
 began, as he heard poor Gertrude's name 
 bandied about in this way, rapidly to lose his 
 temper, and at length said somewhat vio- 
 lently : 
 
 " You have no right, Percy, to speak lightly 
 of this young lady as you do. We both re- 
 . ceived hospitality under her fathers roof, and 
 I do not intend to sit by and hear it."
 
 Down at Keriden. 137 
 
 " Oh, oh !" said Percy, " and how long, may 
 I inquire, have you earned the right to be her 
 champion V 
 
 " I have not earned the right, nor do I 
 seek it ; but since I do not intend that yo a or 
 your friends shall continue to speak of her in 
 this way, I will take the surest means of 
 gaining for her your respect. Miss North- 
 over s position is very different to what it was 
 when you knew her. She is now heiress to 
 upwards of fifty thousand pounds." 
 
 "Good Heavens!" said Percy, "is this 
 true?" 
 
 " Did you ever know me te)l a lie V said 
 Hammond. 
 
 " No, I never did," answered Percy frankly. 
 " Well, since the subject is painful to you, we 
 will speak no more of Miss Northover." 
 
 Hammond had certainly so far gained his 
 point that not only (after the mention of the 
 fifty thousand pounds) was Gertrude's name 
 entirely dropped, but it was evident that the 
 young men felt they had made a mistake, and 
 the conversation generally flagged. 
 
 But when he was in his own room that 
 night Percy came to him.
 
 138 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Hammond," he said, " tell me about the 
 Northovers. How on earth did she come in 
 for her money ?" 
 
 In a few words Hammond told him the 
 history of Mrs. Northover's death, and of her 
 husband's confession of fortune, taking a 
 savage delight in that he was the first to 
 acquaint him with facts of which he felt sure 
 advantage would be taken. 
 
 " He will know it all some day," he said to 
 himself; " why should not I tell him ? Ger- 
 trude is as dead to me as though she had 
 never lived." 
 
 But even as he told him, and watched his 
 thoughtful calculating face, he knew that he 
 was inflicting torture upon himself, and was, 
 as it were, voluntarily signing the death-war- 
 rant to any hopes which might yet linger 
 within him of ultimately making Gertrude his 
 wife. 
 
 " Well, it's a strange history, and it's a 
 strange world," said Percy. " I am glad, how- 
 ever, to hear this, for her sake. To Eastboure 
 you say she and her father have gone ?" 
 
 " To Eastbourne ? Yes ; his health is much 
 impaired."
 
 Down at Keriden. 139 
 
 " It would be odd," said Percy to himself 
 as he bent his steps towards his own room — 
 " it would be very odd if Gerty and I did 
 really ever become man and wife. Poor little 
 soul ! how fond she was of me."
 
 140 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE SOUTH DOWNS. 
 
 Percy Rockcliffe's present worldly position 
 when contrasted with his former one, was, no 
 doubt, considerably changed for the better ; 
 but, with the accession of money, he had also 
 acquired a certain amount of care to which 
 hitherto he had been a stranger. In his old 
 medical student days he had, no doubt, com- 
 plained greatly at the paucity of his means, 
 as compared with what he considered were 
 the natural requirements of his life ; but the 
 fact of his having been unable to obtain 
 credit to any very great extent had kept him, 
 whether he liked it or no, within certain 
 bounds, and he was consequently spared a 
 good deal of anxiety which now fell to his 
 lot. In those days his father had made him
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 141 
 
 a, certain allowance, which had been paid to 
 him by quarterly instalments, and for the few 
 days in which he would be in possession of 
 his money, he would live luxuriously, and be 
 supremely happy. The money being spent, 
 he would grumble and get into as much debt 
 as he could ; but hence his difficulties were 
 never very serious ones. Now he was in pos- 
 session of an income of some twelve hundred 
 a-year, living in chambers in a fashionable 
 part of London, keeping his horses, mixing in 
 expensive society, and generally leading the 
 life of a man-about-town ; and though his 
 credit was as yet so good that at times he 
 himself was astonished at it, his pecuniary 
 troubles were at times most formidable, as 
 any one whose ideas of life urge them to spend 
 about double the amount of their incomes, 
 will invariably find them to be. 
 
 Of course, if Percy had been a sensible 
 man, he would have reduced his desires to 
 the level of his very excellent means ; but he 
 loved the life of luxury which he was leading 
 too well to give up any portion of it without 
 a struggle, and was now in the unpleasant 
 position of knowing that if he paid off all his
 
 142 A Very Old Question. 
 
 debts, his income would be forestalled by 
 about one year, and this in the face of an 
 ever-growing desire — a desire which almost 
 insensibly grows in most of us — to increase 
 the amount of his expenditure. His credi- 
 tors were not yet importunate, but he had 
 come to that most disagreeable state of things, 
 which does come to all men who live beyond 
 their means, that though in possession of a 
 good income, he was, by reason of the daily 
 harass of his debts, and the knowledge that 
 he was outrunning the constable, forced to be 
 economical, nay even mean, with his shillings 
 and sixpences, the free use of which const!-' 
 tutes after all one of the greatest luxuries of 
 life. Thus he would give lavish orders to the 
 tradespeople with whom he dealt, and shirk 
 giving a shilling to a waiter; would dine out 
 rather than ask his friends to dine with him, 
 and in many other ways keep a strict watch 
 on his ready money. 
 
 Now it was Percy's nature to be generous. 
 He was too careless not to be kind-hearted 
 where kind-heartedness could be shown by 
 the passing trouble of putting his hand in his 
 pocket, and he loved the attention which the
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 143 
 
 lavish outlay of money could procure for him. 
 It may easily be imagined, therefore, that 
 this state of things was a perpetual annoy- 
 ance to him, and that he pondered anxiously 
 on plans for increasing his income. 
 
 Of these he had many — all, in fact, by 
 which money may be procured without work 
 — but had as yet put them into practice with 
 but indifferent success; and the thought that 
 his end might be obtained by matrimony — 
 hitherto altogether set on one'side as incompat- 
 ible with the life which he loved most to lead — 
 came upon him on the night that Hammond 
 told him that Gertrude was an heiress as a 
 veritable light in the darkness. 
 
 Indeed he had heretofore little relished the 
 idea of marriage. He liked freedom, and was 
 very fond of saying that he had no pity for 
 men who voluntarily tied themselves down 
 for life, and with a view of possessing them- 
 selves of money, debarred themselves from 
 all, or most, of the pleasures which are to be 
 obtained in the spending of it. No, he had 
 no intention of taking such a step as that. 
 The idea of domestic life, of the worry of an 
 establishment (which would not be kept up
 
 144 A Very Old Question. 
 
 solely for himself), of little household annoy- 
 ances such as he had witnessed at Keriden, of 
 humdrum dinners at home, tete-a-tete with a 
 wife whom one had never wanted to marry, 
 from whom there was no getting away, and 
 whose jealousy would keep her perpetually on 
 the alert, and would cause her to raise objec- 
 tions to numerous little pleasures in which 
 he was inclined to take interest — such a state 
 of things was by no means to his taste, and 
 he would have none of it. 
 
 But to marry little Gerty was a different 
 thing altogether — winning, graceful, pretty 
 little Gerty, who was so fond of him, concerning 
 whom he had certainly for a period been " un- 
 commonly hard hit," and whom he could turn 
 round his little finger. As the daughter of 
 Godfrey Northover, of Gibson Square, Isling- 
 ton, she had been entirely out of the question, 
 not only on his own account, but also on 
 hers ; indeed, more on hers than on his, for 
 experience had shown him that it was a cruel 
 thing to marry a girl beneath one's station, 
 and to expose her to the ridicule of one's 
 relatives, and it was for this that he had 
 stifled his affection for her. But as the
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 145 
 
 daughter of Godfrey Northover, the possessor 
 of a fortune, and the father of only one child, 
 the matter assumed a totally different com- 
 plexion. She was now more on a level with 
 himself, and so he would not now wrong her 
 by asking her to share his position. Besides, 
 it would even be pleasant to have such a 
 sweet little bride as Gerty, and to introduce 
 her to one's admiring friends as a girl for 
 whom one had sacrificed everything, and for 
 whose sake one had even for a time placed 
 oneself in the position of an ordinary medical 
 student. The whole thing was quite a ro- 
 mance, and taking into consideration Gerty's 
 good looks, would be sure to be popular. 
 
 Thus reasoned Percy, and it needed but 
 little of such communing with himself to 
 convince him that he was very sincerely in 
 love with Gertrude ; that he had acted most 
 unselfishly towards her in leaving her at a 
 time when he had believed that any inter- 
 course between them would have been equally 
 disastrous for both of them ; and that in 
 claiming her now that certain clouds had 
 cleared away, he would be but receiving a 
 well-earned reward. 
 
 vol. i. 10
 
 146 A Very Old Question, 
 
 In this frame of mind he left Keriden, 
 stayed for a few days in London, where he 
 was enabled to make some well-laid inquiries 
 concerning the stability of one Northover, 
 late merchant, of America Square, Minories, 
 and in the month of January found himself 
 established with a couple of hunters, and a 
 man-servant, at the South Down Hotel, East- 
 bourne, at which watering-place Godfrey 
 Northover was seeking reparation for his im- 
 paired health. 
 
 Only one little matter caused him the 
 slightest misgiving, or seemed to him to stand 
 in the light of the bright future which now 
 he had planned out for himself. After what 
 fashion would Gertrude receive him ? Would 
 she be willing to renew at once their old 
 terms of intimacy, or had he so well deceived 
 her by the clever way in which (for her sake) 
 he had dissimulated when, now nearly twelve 
 months ago, he had left her, that she, with 
 the jealousy and suspicion common to all 
 women, would be so much piqued with him 
 that she would reject his advances, and attri- 
 bute his renewed suit to the fact that her 
 worldly position was altered ? So many fel-
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 147 
 
 lows did go fortune-hunting in that way ! 
 Confound it, perhaps some scamp had sup- 
 planted him already ! If he had not known 
 that that old ass Hammond never told a lie, 
 he would never have believed that he would 
 not have tried to avail himself of the oppor- 
 tunity which must have been his w T hen he was 
 alone with Gertrude at Islington, and had 
 been the first to find out about Northover's 
 money. 
 
 Full of such disturbing thoughts was Percy 
 when, on the morning following his arrival at 
 Eastbourne, he rode, well mounted and fault- 
 lessly equipped for hunting, along the downs 
 beyond Beachy Head. Now the morning was 
 sharp and frosty, and there having been the 
 day before a slight fall of snow, which had in 
 places drifted or partially covered the downs, 
 as though by the action of a gigantic flour- 
 dredger, the scenery was attractive, and the 
 keen air, coupled with on one side the sound 
 of sheep bells, and on the other by the ever- 
 lasting boom of the waves, exhilarating ; but 
 as for any chance of fox-hunting, with the 
 turf as hard as a macadamised road, and 
 the thermometer as low it well could be, 
 
 10—2
 
 148 A Very Old Question. 
 
 why Percy might as well have donned his 
 tops and his pink in the month of July, 
 and sallied forth in search of a " meet " in 
 the City of London. Very much to this 
 effect had his groom that morning ex- 
 pressed himself when his master had an- 
 nounced his intention that, the weather 
 notwithstanding, he should ride to the place 
 appointed for the meet, his opinion being that 
 the frost was not sufficiently in the ground to 
 stop the hunting. That his groom was right, 
 and he himself wrong, Percy knew full well, 
 but he had other quarry besides foxes in his 
 eye, and having incidentally heard that Miss 
 North over was in the habit of driving to all 
 the nearest meets of hounds, he had deter- 
 mined not to lose the slightest chance of at 
 once throwing himself in her way. To the 
 meet he had accordingly ridden, but neither 
 hounds nor Gertrude were there, and he had 
 been compelled to turn his horse's head to- 
 wards Eastbourne again ; but, in order to 
 vary the route, he struck oif the road, and 
 came back by way of the downs. 
 
 He had reached the summit of Beachy 
 Head, and was growing weary of his cold ride
 
 At the Foot of the South Doivns. 149 
 
 and the solitude of the scene, when he dis- 
 cerned advancing towards him a lady driving 
 in a low pony-carriage a spirited pair of 
 ponies. 
 
 Save for the presence of a very small groom, 
 who sat in a dickey behind her, this lady was 
 quite alone, and it needed but a glance of 
 Percy's experienced eye to see that the ponies, 
 rendered fresh by the sharp air, were having 
 matters entirely their own way, while the 
 fair driver, in happy ignorance of the unsub- 
 stantial nature of her command over them, 
 was being taken along at a pace which, con- 
 sidering the nature of the ground, hardened 
 by frost, full of undulations and declivities, 
 and in many ways perilous, was, to say the 
 least of it, highly dangerous. Percy detected, 
 moreover, that the small groom so far from 
 being unaware of their critical position, was 
 taking after the manner of not a few of his 
 kind, an impish sort of delight in it, and 
 giving furtive glances on either side of his 
 mistress, to catch glimpses of the almost 
 unmanageable ponies, hailing with a grin of 
 enjoyment any jolt occasioned by the sudden 
 descent into, and ascent from, the hollows
 
 150 A Very Old Question. 
 
 which everywhere abounded, and in many 
 ways testifying his satisfaction at a position 
 which was no doubt exciting, and which 
 promised very soon to terminate in a good 
 " running away." 
 
 Seeing all this, Percy put his horse into a 
 canter, and coming alongside the pony- 
 carriage (his presence of course doubly ex- 
 citing the ponies, who increased their speed 
 to an alarming extent), called authoritatively 
 to the small groom to clamber from his dickey 
 into the carriage, and to take the reins from 
 his mistress. This he somewhat reluctantly 
 did, and the lady, now for the first time 
 alarmed, willingly resigned them to him, and 
 this not one moment too soon, for the ponies 
 had now fairly made up their minds to be off 
 and away, and flew like the wind. Luckily, 
 however, some miles of the downs stretched 
 before them, and if only their heads could be 
 kept straight, and the occupants of the car- 
 riage could retain their seats, which on 
 account of the nature of the ground, which 
 was all up hill and down dale, was no easy 
 task — providing these things all might be 
 well, for (as Percy soon had the satisfaction
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 151 
 
 of seeing) the small groom was no incom- 
 petent Jehu, and kept perfectly his presence 
 of mind. 
 
 Away they went at lightning speed, the 
 light pony carriage hardly touching the 
 ground, and Percy following about two 
 hundred yards in the rear — he dared not 
 come nearer on account of increasing the 
 excitement of the now wholly ungovernable 
 ponies — and expecting every moment to see 
 the unfortunate lady flung from her seat and 
 killed before his eyes. The thought that a 
 sudden swerve on the part of the ponies 
 might cause all to disappear over the edge of 
 the dangerous cliff, upon the summit of which 
 they now were, made him shudder. It was a 
 horrible ride, and it was with genuine thank- 
 fulness that he noticed the ponies at length 
 begin to flag, and especially when after a 
 time they came to a more than usually steep 
 hill, show signs of throwing up their cards. 
 Taking due advantage of this, the small 
 groom, handling the reins with the greatest 
 dexterity, very soon brought all to a stand- 
 still, and when Percy rode up to them the 
 lady was safely out of the carriage.
 
 152 A Very Old Question. 
 
 "A narrow escape, madam," said Percy, 
 taking off his liat^ and then suddenly flinging 
 himself out of the saddle. " Why, good 
 Heavens, it is Gertrude ! — Miss Northover, 
 what a singular meeting !" 
 
 Whether the singularity of the meeting or 
 the excitement of her recent escape overcame 
 Gertrude is a matter of doubt, but certain it 
 is that it was well that Percy was there to 
 support her in his arms, for otherwise she 
 would have fallen. Neither can it be told 
 what were the first words which passed 
 between them. The small groom, who seemed 
 wholly unaffected by any one of the incidents 
 and who immediately occupied himself in 
 briskly walking the ponies up and down lest 
 a sudden chill in their present heated con- 
 dition should prove injurious, soon, however, 
 noticed that his young mistress and the 
 strange gentleman were talking together as 
 though they were quite old friends. 
 
 Considering the circumstances under which 
 they had parted in the meagre house in 
 Gibson Square, Islington — he a somewhat 
 out-at-elbows medical student, and she a girl 
 whose greatest idea of extravagance was a
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 153 
 
 new Sunday frock once a year — it was a sin- 
 gular meeting. 
 
 They formed a picturesque little group. 
 In the background the elegant little carriage, 
 luxuriously furnished with handsome furs 
 and wrappers, and the two perfectly- shaped 
 ponies, now tossing their heads and champing 
 their bits as though rejoicing in the re- 
 membrance of their recent galop ; in the 
 foreground, Percy, looking very handsome 
 and dashing in his scarlet coat, hunting- 
 breeches and boots, holding with one hand 
 the rein of his high-bred iron-grey hunter, 
 while in the other he retained the pretty 
 little gloved hand of Gertrude, who, if she 
 had looked charming in her well-worn frocks 
 at Gibson Square was, now that she was 
 attired with everything that wealth and good 
 taste could suggest, simply irresistible. It 
 is all very well to say that dress makes no 
 difference to a really pretty woman ; we 
 fancy there are few pretty women who would 
 say, or at all events think, so, and depend 
 upon it, they are the best judges in the 
 matter. There are some ladies, too, who never 
 look so well as when, wrapped up in warm
 
 154 A Very Old Question. 
 
 furs, they brave the cold of a sharp winter's 
 morning : Gertrude was one of these, and the 
 keen invigorating air had imparted to her 
 cheeks such a healthy glow — the excitement 
 of her drive had given to her beautiful eyes 
 such animation — her well-made rich clothes 
 showed off to such advantage her superb little 
 figure — she looked altogether so full of health 
 and loveliness, that it is no wonder that 
 Percy was intoxicated by her charms, and 
 that he longed at once to renew the privilege 
 which had once been his, and to fold her 
 in his arms. But this was a privilege which 
 he felt he had to regain. 
 
 " You had indeed a narrow escape, Miss- 
 Northover," he said. " Do you think it 
 prudent to attempt to drive such a spirited 
 pair of ponies as yours appear to be V 
 
 "They never behaved so badly before," 
 said Gertrude, " and they are quite good 
 and quiet in the stable, and eat out of my 
 hand. I don't know what made them so 
 naughty." 
 
 "I am afraid 'dangerous' is the more 
 suitable word, Miss Northover. They are 
 very young and spirited, and if you continue
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 155 
 
 to use them you should certainly have a com- 
 petent driver by your side." 
 
 " That implies then," said Gertrude, " that 
 you noticed that I was an incompetent 
 one. 
 
 " Pardon me, I hardly meant that. I have 
 no right to say any such thing. I simply 
 think that the ponies are too much for you ; 
 and that your young rascal of a coachman is 
 too fond of excitement to warn you when you 
 are in danger." 
 
 " Was I in great danger V asked Ger- 
 trude. 
 
 " If I had not made him take the reins 
 when I did, I do not know what the con- 
 sequences might have been." 
 
 " Then you have saved my life," said Ger- 
 trude, looking him full in the face. " Oh, 
 how good, and how brave of you! What 
 shall I say to thank you ¥' 
 
 Percy had it on the tip of his tongue to 
 deprecate this award of bravery, and point 
 out to Gertrude that the fact of calling out 
 to a groom to take the reins, even though 
 it were at a critical moment, involved no 
 great display of physical courage, but seeing
 
 156 A Very Old Question. 
 
 that she was much impressed by it, he took 
 advantage of it. 
 
 " You shall say nothing," said he, " but 
 you shall grant me one request. You are 
 driving back to Eastbourne ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Let me drive you back, and see that you 
 get safely home. I shall otherwise feel 
 anxious about you. Your groom shall ride 
 my horse." 
 
 " Oh, but John is so careless," said Gertrude. 
 " He would be sure to get into trouble with 
 him. He left his last place because he killed 
 a horse." 
 
 " He is quite welcome to kill mine/' said 
 Percy, "if it ensures your safety. Here, sir, 
 you shall ride my horse back to the South 
 Down Hotel, and I will drive your mistress 
 home." 
 
 So John, manifesting intense delight, was 
 hoisted on to the back of Percy's tall hunter ; 
 the stirrups were for his accommodation 
 drawn up to their shortest possible length, 
 and he departed at a pace which augured it 
 as not a little likely that the misfortune 
 which had caused a rupture between himself
 
 At the Foot of the South Downs. 157 
 
 and his late master would be speedily repeated, 
 and that he would on this occasion atone for 
 his past shortcomings by himself severing the 
 ties which bound him to this mortal state. 
 
 Little heeding him, however, Percy turned 
 to Gertrude, and they soon drove off — 
 together.
 
 158 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FKESH FACES. 
 
 Hammond Rockcliffe had not been Jong in 
 Blacknampton before he made many new 
 friends, and for one of these — a certain Gerald 
 Triptree, to whom he was introduced at the 
 house of one of the gentlemen who visited the 
 hospital in which he held his appointment, he 
 soon conceived an especial liking. Gerald 
 Triptree was some years his junior, being 
 indeed not yet twenty-one years of age ; but 
 there was about him a heartiness, an earnest- 
 ness of purpose, and a cordiality of manner, 
 which irresistibly drew Hammond towards 
 him, and made him on every possible occasion 
 seek his society. Gerald was the son of a 
 wealthy Blackhampton manufacturer, but was 
 himself a student of the law.
 
 Fresh Faces. 159 
 
 " Come and dine at my father's next Sun- 
 day/' said he to Hammond one day when the 
 year was barely two months old. " You do 
 not yet know him, but he and all my people 
 have heard of you from me, and he desired 
 me to convey to you the invitation. I shall 
 stay in Blackhampton on Saturday night, and 
 if you will, I will call for you on Sunday 
 morning, and we will walk out to my father's 
 together." 
 
 And Hammond consenting, the following 
 Sunday morning found the two walking to- 
 gether northwards from Blackhampton upon 
 that very road which wound its way to 
 Keriden, the home of his aristocratic name- 
 sakes and relations. But the Keriden road 
 had to proceed some miles from the large 
 manufacturing town before it assumed its 
 country aspect, and could lay claim to being 
 one of the finest old coach roads in England ; 
 at first, as it diverged from the town, it was 
 nothing more or less than a street with shops 
 on either side of it, and a tramway running- 
 down its centre ; then it relapsed into the 
 suburb, with row upon row of newly built 
 workmen's dwellings, in the form of terraces
 
 160 A Very Old Question. 
 
 and squares, fairly comfortable in the interior 
 no doubt, and so far laying claim to commenda- 
 tion, but, on account of the meagreness of the 
 architecture, presenting to the eye but doubtful 
 attraction, and interspersed everywhere with 
 numerous plots of waste ground which on all 
 sides abounded, and on which were notice- 
 boards bearing upon some the announcement 
 that " this eligible land is to let for building* 
 purposes," on others the mandate that ci no 
 rubbish is to be thrown here," and which 
 latter certainly appeared to have been the 
 signal for the accumulation on the sacred spot 
 of all the rubbish, in the shape of broken 
 pearl shells perforated with circles and semi- 
 circles showing where buttons had been cut 
 out, of dross from casting furnaces, of scraped 
 mud from the roadways, of old boots and 
 shoes and broken crockery, of old wall rubbish 
 and the general refuse of pulled down or 
 fallen down buildings, of heaps of stones pre- 
 sumably destined for the repairing of roads 
 which were notoriously never repaired, (and 
 concerning which letters were continually ap- 
 pearing in the local papers, signed "An 
 Aggrieved Ratepayer," " One who lives in the
 
 Fresh Faces. 1G1 
 
 neighbourhood," "Anti-mud," and other 
 anonymous reformers), which time and a popu- 
 lous district had brought together. 
 
 Further on, and when a brickfield or two, 
 the borough sewage works, and some out- 
 lying factories had been passed, the road 
 assumed a more countrified aspect ; the public- 
 houses which, by reason of their number had 
 hitherto been monotonous, were now less fre- 
 quent, and had assumed the more important 
 proportions of the wayside tavern or inn. 
 The workmen's dwellings were more scattered, 
 and, being beyond the precincts of the borough, 
 a taste for the keeping of live stock apparently 
 began to abound, for in the atmosphere an 
 odour as of pigs was prevalent, and at many a 
 house door was a British workman in Sunday 
 trousers of glossy black, in Sunday hat, tall, 
 shining, and uncompromising, and in spotless 
 white shirtsleeves, standing on a spotless white 
 door-step, pensively and listlessly feeding his 
 fowls as they gathered round him in the 
 adjacent gutter : a genus of man, who on a 
 week day, with tool in hand and working- 
 clothes on back, would no doubt have pre- 
 sented himself as a type of industry and utility, 
 
 vol. i. 11
 
 162 A Very Old Question. 
 
 but who here on a Sunday was a painful 
 picture of unaccustomed discomfort. Then 
 came a market-garden or two, all with notice 
 boards of " To let for building purposes," in 
 them, and with large patches of cabbages and 
 rhubarb struggling to exist between the brick 
 walls which surrounded them, and then the 
 villas of small manufacturers standing in 
 gardens of their own, bearing abnormal names, 
 and almost within a suburb which bore a 
 name and had a church of its own, and hence 
 escaped the ignominy of belonging to the 
 town itself. It was now between ten and 
 eleven o'clock, and Hammond had the oppor- 
 tunity of observing how the dwellers by the 
 way, who most of them (all praise be ascribed 
 to them for it), seemed turning out to join in 
 public worship, divided into two sections ; and 
 he was soon able to form a not incorrect 
 conclusion, that those gentlemen who wore 
 more or less broad-brimmed felt hats and 
 suits of shining black, and those ladies who 
 wore dresses of a dingy, not to say ancient, 
 aspect, turned their way southward towards 
 Blackhampton, its meeting-houses and dis- 
 senting chapels, and those gentlemen who
 
 Fresh Faces. 163 
 
 affected grey trousers, fashionable hats and 
 light gloves, and those ladies, the study of 
 whose lives appeared to be their bonnets, 
 directed their steps towards the adjacent 
 church. 
 
 " How do you account for the fact," asked 
 Hammond of Gerald, " that Dissenters should 
 as a rule prefer to wear black clothes and un- 
 sightly hats ? I am not a believer in dress 
 myself, and I rather incline towards dissent ; 
 but I think they make a mistake in that they 
 do not make themselves as attractive as nature 
 will allow them, and for young people espe- 
 cially the Church has here, I think, the pull 
 over them." 
 
 " I don't know how it is," said Gerald, 
 " unless it be that as a rule they have farther 
 to walk to their services, and are afraid of 
 spoiling good clothes. Now tell me which is 
 most objectionable, that Quaker girl with 
 white trousers down to her ankles and a 
 bonnet which one would decline to use as a 
 coal-scuttle, or that young lady with a blue 
 velvet " Church Service " in her hand, with 
 little gluey curls plastered on to her forehead, 
 a greasy one flung over her right shoulder, 
 
 11—2
 
 164 A Very 'Old Question. 
 
 and a bonnet poised on the top of a hideous 
 comb V 
 
 " If you want an opinion as to which would 
 be preferable as a companion," said Hammond, 
 "I have only heard of one man on whose 
 judgment I should rely, and I never had the 
 pleasure of his acquaintance." 
 
 " You mean Kobinson Crusoe," asked Gerald 
 laughing. 
 
 " I am afraid I did," said Hammond. " I 
 can only imagine a man lacking all society 
 taking pleasure in either of those extremes." 
 
 "And if I were Robinson Crusoe," said 
 Gerald, " I would bide my time until I had 
 an introduction to Friday's sister, and in the 
 meantime would live on the other side of the 
 island, before I hazarded an acquaintance with 
 either, though the poor Quaker girl may 
 indeed after all have only her ridiculous 
 parents to blame for her nonsensical appear- 
 ance." 
 
 But now that the road grew clearer, the 
 most noticeable feature was the stream of 
 people who like themselves were issuing from 
 Blackhampton northwards, in the pursuit of 
 Sunday morning pleasure. Foremost among
 
 Fresh Faces. 165 
 
 these were those who were able to afford the 
 luxury" of a conveyance, which varied from 
 waggonettes with a pair of shaky hack horses 
 and every available seat occupied by loudly- 
 dressed ladies and flashy-looking men smoking 
 unwholesome-looking cigars, to bicycles ridden 
 by sporting-looking individuals in knicker- 
 bockers and striped stockings ; but by far the 
 most popular kind of vehicle appeared to be 
 smartly-painted, two- wheeled, diminutive gigs, 
 constructed to carry two persons, and taken 
 swiftly along by showy and fast trotting 
 ponies. These abounded in plenty, and, as 
 Gerald exolained to Hammond, were much in 
 vogue among a certain class of Blackhampton 
 people, many a small employer making great 
 sacrifices in order to keep his trotting pony, 
 and thus turn out in a stylish manner on 
 holidays and Sundays. Among the pedes- 
 trians, too, a taste for sport appeared to 
 prevail ; there was hardly a man among them 
 who had not his dog following at his heels ; 
 there were ferocious-looking white bull-dogs, 
 wearing black leather collars fancifully studded 
 with brass nails ; slim greyhounds in gorgeous 
 clothing ; sharp-nosed terriers with daintily-
 
 166 A Very Old Question. 
 
 cropped ears and closely- shaven tails ; fanci- 
 fully trimmed poodles, who were every now 
 and then constrained to walk for a dozen 
 yards or so on their hind legs ; and the 
 feeblest of little toy dogs in gaily coloured 
 cloth coats, with heads far too heavy for their 
 puny legs and bodies, and skins from which 
 the hair had apparently been singed. 
 
 Among the boys and younger men pigeons 
 seemed to be much in vogue, and most of 
 these carried mysterious-looking flag-baskets, 
 into which now and again a hand would be 
 thrust and a pigeon brought forth, which, 
 amid much shrill whistling, would be flung 
 into the air, destined to perform within a 
 given time a solitary journey to its home in a 
 garret in the heart of the town. Every one 
 seemed bent on such pleasure as is to be 
 derived from the prowess of inferior animals, 
 and indeed about four miles from the town a 
 regular sporting ground seemed to have been 
 inaugurated. The fast trotting ponies were 
 drawn up level with one of the old moss- 
 over-grown milestones, which in times gone- 
 by had served as pilots for the stage-coaches, 
 and were pitted against each other for no
 
 Fresh Faces. 107 
 
 mean amounts. The clothing was stripped 
 from the backs of the slim greyhounds, and 
 they also ran against each other, while 
 ominous little crowds here and there, and 
 horrible yelpings which came from their 
 midst, signified that the white bulldogs and 
 sharp-nosed terriers were being exercised 
 against each other in more ignoble fashion. 
 
 The sight of many of these poor creatures, 
 torn and bleeding, vanquished in the fray, 
 manifestly ashamed of themselves, and spurned 
 by their indignant and disappointed masters 
 and supporters, sickened Hammond, and he 
 said to Gerald : 
 
 " And thi3 is what people call sport ? Good 
 Heavens ! was ever word so misapplied. 
 Until now I never believed that anything 
 could be more brutal or demoralising than 
 a prizefight between men, but I candidly con- 
 fess I would rather see that than I would see 
 these miserable dumb creatures set on to 
 worry, tear, and torture each other." 
 
 " You have to get used to it if you live in 
 Blackhampton," said Gerald. " You will find 
 many men here who will keep themselves, 
 their wives, and their children on the shortest
 
 16S A Very Old Question. 
 
 of commons in order to keep their dog up to 
 fighting condition, or up to killing a given 
 number of rats in a given amount of time ; 
 indeed, I expect the dogs suffer less than the 
 women and children, who are half-starved to 
 keep them ; though they, poor things, come 
 in for a good dinner when their champion wins 
 a good stake — so have a certain amount of 
 interest in his condition. Men must have 
 some amusement — must do something, and 
 while this sort of thing has the time-honoured 
 name of ' sport/ and they see their superiors 
 all over England doing much the same sort of 
 thing, what are you to expect ?" 
 
 " This is not sport," said Hammond, indig- 
 nantly ; " and any English sportsman would 
 turn from it in disgust." 
 
 "Ah," said Gerald, "you have no doubt 
 been a sportsman. Do you hunt V 
 
 " I have hunted, and would hunt regularly 
 if I could afford it/' said Hammond. " That 
 is a noble sport." 
 
 " Some of these ignorant fellows would no 
 doubt tell you," said Gerald ; " mind, I do 
 not vouchsafe this as my own opinion, for I 
 do not go in for sport, that it is no worse to set
 
 Fresh Faces. 1G9 
 
 two dogs on to fight each other than to set 
 fifty dogs on to hunt and worry one wretched 
 fox ; they would possibly prefer the latter 
 and its surroundings of red coats, blood 
 horses, and so forth, but cannot well afford 
 it, and so, on their only leisure morning — 
 Sunday — have to put up with the former. 
 Do you shoot ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Hammond, " when I can, I 
 do shoot." 
 
 " I once heard one of these brutes say that 
 he would rather see a hundred rats killed 
 by one terrier than a hundred half- tamed 
 pheasants riddled with shot by ten noblemen. 
 Do you attend races V 
 
 "I have been to races," said Hammond. 
 " Everyone has." 
 
 " Just so," said Gerald, " I have ; and I 
 myself, when I see these low sports of pigeon 
 flying, pony trotting, and dog racing as prac- 
 tised here on any Sunday morning through- 
 out the year, am glad to notice the absence 
 of sharp spurs and quivering, bleeding horses' 
 sides. Pardon me, I see I annoy you, but I 
 am no sportsman." 
 
 " If you annoy me," said Hammond, " it is
 
 170 A Very Old Question. 
 
 I fear because you tell me some wholesome 
 truths. But you must allow that there is a 
 vast amount of difference between this sort 
 of thing and a hunt which is attended by 
 ladies and gentlemen, and conducted with 
 decorum and the absence of the oaths and 
 blasphemy which abound here." 
 
 " It is a decorum/' said Gerald, laughing, 
 " which must be intensely gratifying to the 
 fox destined to be slaughtered. Oh, Rock- 
 cliffe, you told me only yesterday that you 
 were a Radical ! I am afraid these notions 
 must be called Conservative. You will, how- 
 ever, get on well with my father, who is a 
 great sportsman. He hunts regularly, and 
 he and I are always at loggerheads on these 
 subjects." 
 
 It is true that since his arrival in Black- 
 hampton Hammond had foresworn the 
 politics of his family, and had among his 
 friends declared himself a Radical ; but it miist 
 be owned that there was still sufficient in him 
 of the Conservative to convince him that a 
 Blackhampton manufacturer had no right to 
 be a sportsman or to hunt. Keriden was too 
 near Blackhampton, and Hammond had lived
 
 Fresh Faces. 171 
 
 too much there not to be endued with the 
 notion that a foxhunter from the manu- 
 facturing town, with his second-rate horse, 
 outre attire, and loud talk was an abomi- 
 nation, and so he took an instinctive dislike 
 to Mr. Triptree, senior. 
 
 "You think me strong on the cruelty to 
 animals question," said Gerald. " So I am 
 and so are you, only you have not given the 
 matter much thought, but I hope I do not 
 make the mistake which nowadays some seem 
 inclined to do, of putting the claims of animals 
 before those of human beings. Look here, 
 here is the saddest sight I have seen this 
 morning/' 
 
 Gerald pointed to a group of shabby, almost 
 ragged, children — a boy, two girls, and a 
 baby. The eldest of these could not be more 
 than eight or nine years of age, and their 
 stunted growth and pale faces gave them an 
 appearance of abject helplessness. These poor 
 things had that morning it seemed (Gerald 
 appeared intuitively to know this) been sent 
 out by their mother from Blackhampton for a 
 walk. Tempted by the fine morning, the 
 diversions of the road, the racing dogs, the
 
 172 A Very Old Question. 
 
 fighting dogs, and the trotting ponies, they 
 had wandered on and on, until they now- 
 found themselves utterly exhausted, faint 
 with hunger, beyond the hour when whatever 
 might be for their dinner would be ready for 
 them at home, and some five miles to walk 
 back for it. This they seemed to have given 
 up in despair. The eldest girl nursed the 
 crying baby, and they sat side by side, hand 
 in hand, under the hedgerow, the picture of 
 human misery. 
 
 " What is to be done for them V asked 
 Hammond. " Will money help them back ?" 
 
 " No," said Gerald. " Who would drive 
 the poor things even if anything available 
 were about ? but you see the road is empty 
 now. Their case is a common one and pro- 
 bably familiar to them. They will get home 
 somehow, and be beaten at their journey's 
 end. You can do nothing for them." 
 
 Nevertheless Gerald went into a neighbour- 
 ing publichouse and purchased food for the 
 helpless little group, and then left them con- 
 tentedly munching. 
 
 " It is astonishing," said Hammond, " what 
 different scenes are enacted on the same road
 
 Fresh Faces. 173 
 
 within the distance of a few miles ! One can 
 hardly believe that a few hours' walking, with- 
 out a turn to the right hand or to the left, 
 would bring one to Keriden with its peaceful 
 Sunday morning aspect. I can picture it to 
 myself now : rich and poor alike turning out 
 in their Sunday best to go to church, and 
 sleep through the prosy sermon. The children 
 clean and well-dressed going to and from 
 Sunday school, the dogs peacefully asleep on 
 the cottage doorsteps \" 
 
 "In short, Arcadia," returned Gerald, 
 " where every one is being lazily good because 
 there is little or no harm to be done. You, 
 no doubt, think one could pass a better and 
 more profitable Sunday morning there than 
 here, but I could take you, Rockcliffe, into 
 certain places in our town of Blackhampton, 
 where earnest men are working hard against 
 the horrors which ignorance and neglect have 
 created, and show you such existing evils that 
 you would probably be ashamed ever to pass 
 a Sunday in your peaceful Keriden again. 
 You must not condemn our people for seeming 
 so bad. If you had had as many opportunities 
 of judging them as I have, and of seeing the
 
 174 A Very Old Question. 
 
 influences under which they are born and 
 brought up, you would marvel as I do, that 
 many of them can be so good. See here we 
 are at my father's. A long way out, is it not, 
 but he likes his ride into town, and I as you 
 know mostly live there. He built the house 
 himself, and is very proud of it." 
 
 Mr. Trip tree's house was indeed just such 
 an one of which a wealthy man of small educa- 
 tion and little or no natural taste would be 
 proud. A substantial solid-looking house of 
 glaring red brick with stone facings, standing 
 not too far back from the road, and with a 
 high ornamental black iron palisading before 
 it; approached by a carriage drive of the 
 most brilliant gravel, with no large trees 
 about it to keep out the light, or to make the 
 place damp and unwholesome, but with little 
 groups of dwarf firs and aurucarias, giving to 
 it an appearance of modern comfort and civi- 
 lisation such as none of our common native 
 trees can (at least such was the opinion of 
 Mr. Triptree) bestow. 
 
 On the left hand side an imposing red-brick 
 arch- way with black iron gates, leading to the 
 stables, which were certainly all that stables
 
 Fresh Faces. 175 
 
 could be desired to be, for Mr. Triptree was a 
 lover of horses, and made their comfort a 
 study. At the back of the house a bowling 
 green as smooth as glass and as level as a die, 
 and at the end of it a tasty summer arbour, 
 constructed of corrugated iron, and undes- 
 troyed by creepers or flowering plants ; 
 farther on a small sheet of ornamental water 
 cut out to a fanciful and elegant pattern ; 
 then the kitchen -garden, ruled with walks as 
 straight as lines are ruled in a copy-book, and 
 the flower-garden with cunningly made iron 
 arches, and one or two choice plaster images ; 
 the few acres of ground which belonged to the 
 house laid out in square paddocks, and divided 
 with iron hurdles, not as straggling fields 
 with untidy hedgerows choked with weeds 
 and w 7 ild flowers ; everything trim, everything 
 substantial ; all the iron work preserved with 
 anti-corrosive paint; all the gravel walks rolled 
 and levelled to a nicety ; no ivy or other 
 climbing vegetation destroying the first-class 
 brickwork of the house ; one's money's worth to 
 be taken in at a glance and seen everywhere. 
 
 " Welcome to The Srubs, sir," said a loud 
 voice as Hammond and Gerald passed through
 
 176 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the iron gates and were proceeding to the 
 house. The establishment was, as a matter 
 of fact, yclept " The Shrubs/' but it was with 
 the absence of its second letter that it was 
 invariably spoken of by its proprietor. 
 
 Mr. Triptree, senior, was a portly, fresh 
 complexioned gentleman, of about fifty years 
 of age, decidedly corpulent as to his person, 
 and both loud and " horsey " as to his dress. 
 He was, as I have said, a Blackhampton 
 manufacturer, and had indeed more than one 
 iron in the fire in that busy town, but he 
 himself affected the life and manners of what, 
 according to his lights, was a country gentle- 
 man. He was an acute man of business, and 
 had in the course of his life amassed a very 
 considerable sum of money, so that he now- 
 found himself able, to a considerable extent, 
 to indulge in the sports which he loved, and 
 to attend to business on only one or two days 
 in the week ; but those days were by him 
 turned to very excellent account. Mr. Trip- 
 tree had indeed found out that it is almost 
 easier to manage certain classes of business 
 through the medium of sharp managers than 
 by personal supervision.
 
 Fresh Faces. 177 
 
 He was an extensive mill-owner, that is to 
 say he was the proprietor of large manufac- 
 tories in which there was steam power ; and 
 these manufactories, being divided into work- 
 shops of different sizes, were let off to small 
 artisans who paid rent for the use of them 
 and the steam power. Collecting rents from 
 these tenants was exceedingly suggestive of 
 the difficult task of extracting blood from a 
 stone ; many of them made it the business of 
 their lives to avoid paying if they possibly 
 could ; many were so poorly paid for their 
 work that even when inclined they found 
 themselves at the week's end barely able to 
 meet the demand ; all of them grumbled 
 greatly at the high rate at which they were 
 charged, but of course had no alternative but 
 to pay or to suspend the work by which they 
 gained a living. Under these circumstances 
 Mr. Triptree found it very convenient to go 
 hunting on collecting days, and his managers 
 having merely to carry out his instructions, 
 no appeal was possible. The managers were 
 of course cordially hated, and amongst not a 
 few of the workmen, Mr. Triptree was 
 imagined to be an easy-going man grossly im- 
 
 vol. i. 12
 
 178 A Very Old Question, 
 
 posed upon by his subordinates, but well did 
 the managers know of the keen eye which 
 would inspect every item of their accounts, 
 and the harsh voice with which the smallest 
 error would be pointed out. 
 
 As may be imagined Mr. Triptree was not 
 a man who, when possessed of a certain 
 amount of money, would be satisfied with the 
 interest of the funds, and so it was not un- 
 frequently that he plumed himself on being 
 in most of the " good things " of Black- 
 hampton. At the present time he was the 
 director of an Insurance and Loan Company, 
 was interested in a bank, had a share in a 
 profitable brewery, and when ready money 
 was required was indeed generally sought 
 after. On all these different interests he kept 
 a keen and watchful eye, but being, as I have 
 said, an acute man of business, he was by the 
 systems which he adopted, able to make them 
 take up but little of his own time, and to an 
 indifferent observer, his life might almost 
 appear to be one of ease and indolence. 
 
 But while in his home-life he assumed the 
 easy air of an idle and wealthy man, and denied 
 himself and his family nothing, he was keenly
 
 Fresh Faces. 179 
 
 alive to everything that went on round him, 
 and his grooms as much dreaded his insight 
 into the corn bills and his daily inspection of 
 his horses as his managers in town did his 
 examination of the rent-books. 
 
 " A man who pays his way," Mr. Triptree 
 would say, " ought to buy at first hand ;" 
 and while he spent his money freely, he took 
 €are that for every shilling of it he had its 
 equivalent. 
 
 " Welcome to The Srubs, sir," said this gen- 
 tleman to Hammond Rockcliffe, as with cigar 
 in mouth, and attired in an easy morning suit 
 of a violent check pattern, he advanced to- 
 wards him with extended hand. " What will 
 you take before dinner V 
 
 " Nothing, I thank you," said Hammond, 
 returning the salutation somewhat stiffly. 
 
 u What, not just a ha'p'orth of something 
 on the quiet," said Mr. Triptree jovially. 
 "Here, Gerald, my boy, just you go on into 
 the house and tell them to send round a 
 drop of dry sherry and a mouthful of 
 bitters into the stables ; I'll take Mr. 
 Rockcliffe to have a look over the cattle. 
 I always make it a rule, Mr. Rockcliffe/' 
 
 12—2
 
 180 A Very Old Question. 
 
 continued Mr. Triptree, "to have a quiet 
 look round on a Sunday morning, especially 
 in the stables. I dare say you make a rule 
 of doing the same thing yourself down at 
 Keriden. I'm glad to have the chance of 
 seeing you here, for me and your family has 
 hunted together these ten years, and where 
 there's hunting there should be fellowship. 
 That's what I say/' 
 
 " I do not hunt much myself/' said Ham- 
 mond, reservedly. " I have neither the time 
 nor the means." 
 
 "That's honest," said Mr. Triptree, " and 
 honesty is what I like, and I shall be proud 
 every now and again to give you as good a 
 mount as you'd get anywhere in the county. 
 Lord, I remember the time when I used to 
 sneak off with one of my father's old trap- 
 horses, and hunt him till he was fit to drop, 
 and then they used to wonder next day why 
 he was so used up ; and now I've got a spare 
 nag and a good one for any one. It aggra- 
 vates me sometimes that Gerald don't care 
 about hunting ; but there, never mind, he's 
 a good lad and he's your friend, and I shall 
 be proud to mount you. Next time they
 
 Fresh Faces. 181 
 
 meet at Keriden we'll trot over together, and 
 then you can show me the road about your 
 own country, though I dessay I know it as 
 well as you." 
 
 Hammond did not much relish the idea of 
 thus bringing Mr. Triptree among his rela- 
 tives, but luckily for him their advent at 
 the stables enabled him to drop the subject, 
 and to change it into admiration of his host's 
 horses. 
 
 "Yes, that's a nice little thing," said Mr. 
 Triptree — " Brown Stout — perhaps you've 
 heard of her. You'd hardly believe that I 
 bought her out of a beerseller's cart and 
 brought her to what she is. She's won one 
 or two steeplechases, and I could place her 
 any day for six times the money she cost me. 
 Hardly up to my weight, but handy for 
 short distances. Now, this one," he con- 
 tinued, pointing to a fine bay, the next 
 door neighbour of Brown Stout, " cost me a 
 pot of money, but by Jove, sir, he's a clinker. 
 I dare say you've heard of William the Con- 
 queror. George" (this to a groom) " strip the 
 Conqueror and lead him out for my friend, 
 Mr. Rockcliffe, to see."
 
 182 A Very Old Question. 
 
 Thus was Hammond taken through the 
 whole stud — some eight or nine in number — 
 and those who have gone through the same 
 ordeal, and those who without being qualified 
 judges of horseflesh or enthusiastic admirers 
 thereof, but who nevertheless, by reason of 
 the owner being, for the time being, their 
 host, have felt themselves bound to admire 
 and in the most suitable language in their 
 power to praise every point to which their 
 attention has been directed, such persons will 
 understand how weary he at length became 
 of passing his hand down legs, of lifting fore 
 feet, of inspecting fetlock joints, -of speaking 
 learnedly of depth of shoulder, breadth of 
 hindquarters, circumference of barrel, make 
 and shape, speed and breed, and how con- 
 sequently relieved he was when Gerald came 
 to the rescue and announced that dinner 
 would be ready in ten minutes. 
 
 So well had he performed his part, how- 
 ever, that not only did Mr. Triptree assure 
 him that he should at any time he liked have 
 the best mount in his stable, but also that he 
 would there and then get up for him the best 
 glass of wine in his cellar.
 
 Fresh Faces. 183 
 
 Hammond found the interior of The Shrubs 
 to be much on a par with, and after the same 
 character as, the exterior. The rooms were 
 large, lofty, and well lighted, but great ex- 
 travagances had been committed with regard 
 to heavy cornices, gorgeously-coloured marble 
 chimney-pieces, aud amber-stained glass in 
 the windows. The spacious entrance-hall was 
 paved with earthenware tiles of a kaleidoscope 
 pattern in which most of the colours of the 
 rainbow were introduced, though not blended ; 
 and the carpets all over the house were 
 dazzling in the extreme. The house being 
 new the walls had not yet been papered, and 
 were in the melancholy and uncomfortable 
 condition usually known as " distemper," but 
 all the furniture was of a massive and rich 
 character, and so many valuable and excel- 
 lent pictures were to be seen that Hammond, 
 who had a keen eye for such things, began to 
 imagine that notwithstanding his first impres- 
 sions, Mr. Triptree must be a man of taste. 
 On this point, however, his mind was soon 
 disabused. 
 
 " Looking at the pictures, I see," said Mr. 
 Triptree. " I don't know whether you're
 
 184 A Very Old Question. 
 
 much of a judge, but if you are you'll see 
 money's worth in them all. Now, that one 
 there cost me a matter of eighty pounds. 
 That was before the artist died. Now it 
 would fetch over three hundred at any 
 sale in Blackhampton. That's the way to 
 buy." 
 
 The picture in question was a lovely land- 
 scape by a well-known artist, who had but 
 recently died of hard work. 
 
 " I knew the painter of that picture," Ham- 
 mond said ; " his wife and children are left 
 badly off. What a sin it seems that a 
 man's pictures should not realise their full 
 value until after his death, and that then 
 the profit should fall into the hands of 
 strangers." 
 
 "A sin," said Mr. Triptree, " not a bit of 
 it. A man has to show pluck in buying 
 of a living artist unless he's at the top of the 
 tree, and ought to get something out of it. 
 I saw that man was going when I bought the 
 picture off his easel, and knew the turn the 
 market would take. He asked a hundred 
 and twenty for it ; I ran him down to eighty 
 — frame included — and he died six months
 
 Fresh Faces. 185 
 
 after. I wish I'd had half a dozen instead 
 of one." 
 
 " That's a beautiful thing/' said Hammond, 
 turning to another and anxious to change 
 the subject. 
 
 " You know whose it is, of course ¥' asked 
 Mr. Triptree. 
 
 " No I do not," replied Hammond. 
 
 " Lord !" said Mr. Triptree, " what a chap 
 you are. Why, the first thing to look at in a 
 picture is the artist's name. Show me a 
 signed picture and give me the right measure 
 of the canvas — six by three, two by one, eight 
 by four, or whatever it may be — and I'll tell 
 you their market value against any man in 
 the country — dealers included." 
 
 " And with regard to unsigned pictures V 
 asked Hammond. 
 
 " Damme, sir, I wouldn't look at one of 
 'em," said Mr. Triptree. " But I'll tell you 
 what I've done before now, though," he 
 added confidentially. " I've picked up a 
 decent-looking picture for a five pound note, 
 got a good man to do half an hour's work at 
 it and sign it for a ten pound note, and sold 
 it for a hundred. You take my word for it,
 
 186 A Very Old Question. 
 
 Mr. Rockcliffe, the name 's the thing to have 
 in a picture — blow the subject, and the treat- 
 ment, and all that ; names is what I like to 
 see on my walls." 
 
 " But regarding the matter from your 
 point of view," remarked Hammond, " you 
 might as well hang your walls with visiting 
 cards." 
 
 " Ah, I see, you don't care for art," replied 
 Mr. Triptree. " You watch the picture 
 market as closely as I do, and you'll learn 
 how to appreciate it. Properly looked after, 
 pictures are as pretty an investment as a man 
 need wish to have." 
 
 And it was after this fashion that art was 
 cultivated and encouraged by not a few of 
 the wealthy inhabitants of Blackhampton. 
 
 This conversation between Hammond and 
 his host had taken place before dinner in the 
 drawing-room. That meal was now formally 
 announced, and at this juncture Mrs. Triptree 
 made her appearance, and Hammond had 
 the honour of escorting her to the dining- 
 room. 
 
 The party was a small one, consisting only 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Triptree, Gerald and Ham-
 
 Fresh Faces. 187 
 
 mond ; for the Triptree olive branches were but 
 two in number, and the second son — Gerald's 
 brother — was on this occasion away from 
 home. Mrs. Triptree was a stout, good- 
 humoured, warm-hearted vulgar woman, with 
 illimitable faith in the talents of her husband, 
 whom she had married when in far different 
 circumstances, dotingly fond of her two sons, 
 and immensely proud of The Shrubs and its 
 appurtenances. 
 
 " You have a nice place here, Mrs. Trip- 
 tree," said Hammond, wishing to make himself 
 agreeable. "It is quite a pleasant change 
 after the town life which I now usually lead 
 to come out here." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Triptree, " it is a beau- 
 tiful place, and as 'ealthy as you could wish 
 it to be ; and I'm sure I 'ope you'll often 
 come out here on a Sunday, for I know you're 
 not used to a town, and it's a long way to 
 your own 'ome. Me and Mr. Triptree drove 
 through Keriden a while ago, and he pointed 
 out to me your uncle's 'ouse. It looks but a 
 damp place, Mr. Eockcliffe. For myself I 
 can't abide them old places, and whenever Mr. 
 T. drives me out, and says Lord So-and-so
 
 188 A Very Old Question. 
 
 lives there, or that's Sir This-and-that's place, 
 they all look so old-fashioned that I say, well, 
 give me The Srubs before all." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Rockcliffe, tell me what you 
 think of that fish V said Mr. Triptree from 
 the head of the table. " Most people would 
 be paying their five shillings a pound for 
 salmon just now, but I went down to the 
 market myself yesterday morning and bought 
 at pretty much my own price. You won't 
 often get a better glass of brown sherry than 
 that either. I bought a whole lot of it at a 
 sale, at a price that would surprise you, and 
 shouldn't mind if I had a cellar full of it — 
 What say you V 
 
 Both salmon and sherry were as regards 
 quality undeniable, and so Hammond was 
 bound to confess, though he did not much 
 appreciate this mode of putting a price on, or 
 rather hinting at the price of, each item of 
 food or drink which was placed on the table. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Triptree were, however, the 
 essence of hospitality, and Hammond had not 
 only too great a liking for Gerald, but also too 
 much innate good taste to appear displeased, 
 and soon found himself learning more about
 
 Fresh Faces. 189 
 
 the value of meats and wines than he had 
 ever done before. 
 
 The meal was a sumptuous and a prolonged 
 one, though perhaps somewhat too substantial 
 for a moderate diner, and far too incongruous 
 in its details for a fastidious one, champagne 
 being handed with boiled beef and suet dump- 
 lings, and old ale being drunk promiscuously 
 at various stages of the entertainment. 
 
 " And now for just one nip of old brandy, 
 Mr. RockclifTe," said Mr. Triptree, as the 
 cheese was being removed, "and then we 
 shall be in good condition to turn round to 
 the fire and appreciate our glass of port. I 
 hope you understand a good glass of port, sir, 
 for you'll have one here, I can tell you." 
 
 " You are almost too hospitable, Mr. Trip- 
 tree," said Hammond ; " but I may confess to 
 a liking for a glass of good port." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," said Mr. Triptree. 
 " I wish my boy Gerald was of your mind ; 
 but you'll see he'll only take a glass of sour 
 light wine which I shouldn't keep in the house 
 but to please him. Never mind — every one 
 to their taste say I, and if he likes to drink 
 vinegar, he shall have it. We shall have
 
 190 A Very Old Question. 
 
 some friends in soon, I daresay, and they'll 
 help us with the port. This is open house 
 on Sunday afternoon, sir." 
 
 And this fact was indeed soon demonstrated 
 by the arrival at the hall door of a little two- 
 wheeled pony phaeton, similar to those which 
 Hammond had that morning observed along 
 the road, whereof the body and wheels were 
 simply light wood varnished, and much of the 
 same colour as the leather of which the dash- 
 ing-looking little pony's harness was made. 
 
 The vehicle contained two occupants, and 
 to welcome these friends Mr. Triptree left the 
 room. 
 
 " True to our word, you see," Hammond 
 heard a hearty voice exclaim. " I told you 
 we would come over one of these fine Sunday 
 afternoons, and this being a fine one, Sam put 
 Trotter in the Lome cart and tooled me over. 
 Well, and how do you find yourself ?" 
 
 " First chop," said Mr. Triptree, " and all 
 the better for seeing you. Take the pony 
 round to the stable, Sam, and ring the bell 
 for the man. Send, what a stepper that pony 
 is !" added the worthy gentleman, as he stood 
 admiring Trotter as he was being driven to
 
 Fresh Faces. 191 
 
 the stable, and whose greatest ambition 
 seemed, at every step which he took, to knock 
 out his front teeth with his knees. 
 
 Something in the voice which Hammond 
 had heard had suddenly recalled old memories, 
 and he was trying to remember how this was, 
 and where he had heard it, when his host and 
 the new comer entered the room. 
 
 "We've no company," Mr. Triptree was 
 saying — " only a friend of my son's — a gentle- 
 man who I'm proud to welcome. Mr. Eock- 
 
 cliffe, let me make you known to What ! 
 
 you've met before, I see. Neither owes the 
 other money, I hope ?" 
 
 " No, no !" said Anthony Northover, shaking 
 Hammond heartily by the hand (somewhat 
 more demonstratively too than that gentle- 
 man thoroughly appreciated) ; " but, Lord ! 
 what strange things do come about to be 
 sure. This is what I call a coincidence. 
 Here, Sam !" (this was addressed to his fellow 
 traveller in the "Lome cart," who now entered 
 the room), " you and me have been talking 
 about young Rockcliffe all along the road, and 
 blessed if we ain't " 
 
 " Run him to earth," interposed Mr. Trip-
 
 192 A Very Old Question. 
 
 tree, with a bend of the legs and in sporting 
 phraseology. 
 
 "You remember Sam Weskut," continued 
 Anthony. " You met him at a party at our 
 house, when we lived down at Bow, you 
 know — in the old days, Rockcliffe. Excuse 
 me dropping the ' mister,' but we shall soon, 
 in a measure, belong to the same family. 
 Well, Sam's my son-in-law now, and him and 
 me is in business together. You've got to 
 ask after Mrs. Weskut now, and when I tell 
 you that they've been married nearly a twelve 
 month, and that I'm not a grandpa yet, you'll 
 know that you've got to inquire after her very 
 particular. Ha ! ha ! ha I" 
 
 For civility's sake Hammond gravely hoped 
 that Mrs. Weskut was well. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! keep your eye on business," said 
 Mr. Triptree, jovially. 
 
 "Trust a medical man for that. It's the 
 only trade that's licensed to keep open on 
 the Sabbath day bar the publicans." 
 
 " Are you then living in Blackhampton ?" 
 asked Hammond, by no means appreciating 
 the tone of the conversation. 
 
 " Yes," said Northover. " What ! haven't
 
 Fresh Faces. 193 
 
 you heard ? I'll tell you all about it 
 then." 
 
 " Not till you've sat down and got some- 
 thing by you to pull at," said the hospitable 
 Mr. Triptree. " Now, make yourself comfort- 
 able. What's the tipple, Northover — port V 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," replied Anthony, with a 
 nautical air. 
 
 " Port it is," responded Mr. Weskut, deftly 
 enlarging upon his partner's joke. 
 
 And port for some time it certainly ivas. 
 
 What Hammond learned in the course of 
 the conversation which ensued was in brief as 
 follows. When Godfrey Northover had given 
 up and disposed of the business carried on in 
 America Square, Minories, he had presented 
 to Anthony, who was thus thrown out of 
 employment and deprived of his means of 
 sustenance, a sum of money sufficient to en- 
 able him to look out for a business of his 
 own. At this identical time it so chanced 
 that Mr. Samuel Weskut, whom we have 
 hitherto known as a traveller in the jewellery 
 trade, also came into a little property, and 
 was on the look out for a profitable invest- 
 ment for the same, and the two having talked 
 
 vol. i. 13
 
 194 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the matter over together, decided to enter 
 into partnership, and. ultimately purchased 
 the stock-in-trade and good-will of a Black- 
 hampton jewellery business which was now 
 being carried on under the style of Northover 
 and Weskut, the first named of the two being 
 the manager at home, and the latter still 
 devoting his talents to the " road." So far 
 the business had proved a profitable one. 
 Weskut was married to Georgina, and the 
 partners had closely adjoining villa residences 
 in one of the suburbs of the town, and to 
 both of which Hammond now received invita- 
 tions. 
 
 In the purchase and transfer of the business 
 Mr. Triptree had been instrumental, and it 
 was thus that they had become acquainted 
 and were on visiting terms with each other. 
 
 " Ah !" said Anthony, when all this, to the 
 accompaniment of considerable quantities of 
 Mr. Triptree's old port, had been recounted 
 and discussed at length, " it's wonderful what 
 a little time brings about, and it's astonishing- 
 how we're always running up against one 
 another. It was only this morning, Eock- 
 cliffe, that me and Sam heard of your being
 
 Fresh Faces. 195 
 
 quartered in Blackhampton, and was asked to 
 find you out, and here we come across you." 
 
 " In what way were you asked to find me 
 out V demanded Hammond. 
 
 " Why, by my brother Godfrey. Of course 
 you've heard the news I" 
 
 " News ! what news ?" 
 
 " Why, about your cousin Percy being 
 engaged to Godfrey's gal, Gertrude. You've 
 heard that V 
 
 " No." 
 
 Hammond had not heard it, but was by no 
 means unprepared for it, and so took the 
 matter quite calmly. 
 
 " Ah !" said Anthony, " you ought to have 
 had her. You never ought to have let her 
 slip through your fingers like you did, and let 
 him step in and cut you out " 
 
 " But I have not yet been told," interrupted 
 Hammond, " by whom you were asked to find 
 me out." 
 
 " Why by my brother Godfrey, to be sure. 
 You know how bad he was when his wife 
 died ; well there's no doubt he's been queer 
 ever since, and his brain is a bit touched. 
 He insists before the marriage of settling 
 
 13—2
 
 196 A Very Old Question. 
 
 everything, or nearly everything, he's got on 
 Gertrude, and he means to make you one of 
 the trustees. He had heard, it seems, that 
 you had taken up your quarters down here, 
 and wrote to ask me where you were to be 
 found, and to tell me he was coming down." 
 
 " You astonish me," said Hammond ; " and 
 will he come soon V 
 
 " If you call to-night at the Great Northern 
 Hotel in Blackhamptotf, I shouldn't be sur- 
 prised if you didn't find him there — or at all 
 events, hear when he's coming." 
 
 Hammond again expressed his surprise, 
 and after that the conversation took a more 
 general turn, Mr. Triptree, Mr. Weskut, and 
 Anthony Northover discussing principally 
 sporting questions along with their port 
 wine until such time as tea was announced, 
 at which meal dainties in the form of anchovv 
 toast and other " palate ticklers," as Mr. 
 Triptree termed them, were served. After 
 which an adjournment was immediately made 
 to the saddle-room, which was also com- 
 fortably fitted up as a smoking-room, and 
 where some choice old brandy, some curiously 
 fine whisky, and some extraordinary gin,
 
 Fresh Faces. 197 
 
 together with hot and cold water, were 
 already laid out. 
 
 These preparations for a convivial evening 
 would probably somewhat have alarmed 
 Hammond had he not already made with 
 Gerald an arrangement to leave early, and 
 fulfil with him another engagement. He 
 therefore excused himself from joining the 
 smoking party, and amid many protestations 
 of regret from the hospitable Mr. Triptree, 
 and many invitations for future visits, bade 
 farewell to The Shrubs.
 
 198 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A FAIR FACE. 
 
 " I fear," said Gerald to Hammond, as they 
 walked away from The Shrubs together, "I 
 fear that you have hardly been repaid for the 
 trouble of coming out here. I have felt all 
 day long that the company was not what 
 you have been used to or what you like, and 
 almost felt sorry that I asked you." 
 
 "You have no right to say or to think 
 any such thing," said Hammond. " No one 
 could have welcomed me more cordially or 
 kindly than your father, and I am always 
 grateful for kindness." 
 
 " Heaven knows," said Gerald, " he has 
 always been a kind father to me, and has 
 never denied me anything, but I can- 
 not sympathise with him in all his tastes,
 
 A Fair Face. 199 
 
 and I confess that I do not like all his 
 friends." 
 
 " There you have me at a disadvantage," 
 said Hammond good-naturedly, anxious to 
 please his friend, "for Mr. Northover and 
 Mr. Weskut are old friends of mine." 
 
 "That is singular," said Gerald, "and you did 
 not know that they lived at Blackhampton V 
 
 " I saw them last in London, where for 
 some years I lived in the same house with 
 Mr. Northover's brother, whose daughter my 
 cousin is about to marry." 
 
 " Is your cousin one of the Keriden 
 Eockcliffes ?' 
 
 " Yes ; he is the son of Gregory Rockcliffe 
 — the present Squire." 
 
 " He must be a fine fellow." 
 
 " Why r 
 
 " Because, pardon me for saying so — I know 
 I may speak frankly to you — I know that the 
 Rockcliffes are a very good family, and that 
 the status of the Nor tho vers cannot be nearly 
 equal to theirs. I admire and respect a man 
 who throws on one side the prejudices of his 
 family for the sake of a girl whom he loves. 
 It requires pluck to do it though."
 
 200 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Unfortunately for your admiration of my 
 cousin, Miss Northover is in possession of an 
 exceedingly fine fortune, and such being the 
 case, I do not imagine that the match will 
 meet with much opposition." 
 
 " Ah, Rockcliffe, you are cynical. For my 
 part I like to think of people making sacri- 
 fices for love and do not care to look out for 
 their probably interested motives. Now, 
 most people would say that Miss Northover 
 was going to marry your cousin simply for 
 the sake of his name and position ; most 
 people will say so when she marries him, but 
 do you know I believe it requires quite as 
 much or more pluck on a girl's part to marry 
 a man whose position is above her own, as it 
 does on a man's to marry a girl who is con- 
 sidered beneath him. He may have the 
 satisfaction of knowing that his friends 
 believe that he has committed a quixotic, 
 foolish act, but she, poor thing, has to put 
 up with all the condescension and criticism 
 which all his purse-proud friends are sure to 
 lavish on her." 
 
 " Miss Northover/' said Hammond, " is 
 infinitely superior to any one of my cousin's
 
 A Fair Face. 201 
 
 relations, — I myself am the most insignificant 
 among them — but I understand what you 
 mean, and why you say it. You are thinking 
 of Miss Tryan." 
 
 " I am always thinking of her." 
 
 " Naturally. Your father, I think you told 
 me, does know of your engagement to 
 her r 
 
 " Yes," said. Gerald, gloomily ; " knows of 
 it and laughs at it — declines to acknowledge 
 it, and yet won't be angry about it. Knows 
 that I go there constantly, and simply thinks 
 me a fool for my pains. I sometimes wish he 
 would quarrel with me about it, and then 
 somehow I should feel I was nearer my end 
 than I am now." 
 
 " Then he is not very indignant about it," 
 said Hammond. 
 
 " Oh, he is though," said Gerald, " for he 
 thinks a great deal of me, and always said I 
 ought to look to higher things. I have told 
 you who Kate is : the daughter of a small 
 Blackhampton manufacturer who had a good 
 chance once, but who took to drinking and 
 betting, and shot himself the same day that he 
 was sold up. My father knew him well, and
 
 202 A Very Old Question. 
 
 was one of his largest creditors, and I am 
 sorry to say he does not readily forgive a 
 debtor." 
 
 " And how long have you been engaged to 
 Miss Tryan V 
 
 "For nearly twelve months now, and my 
 father will not say a word about it good or 
 bad. He will not sanction it, and he will 
 not quarrel with me about it. He simply 
 ignores it, and so does my mother, so that at 
 times I am nearly driven mad." 
 
 In acting after this wise it cannot be said 
 but that Mr. Triptree — who well understood 
 the character of his son Gerald — played a 
 very wise part. He strongly disapproved of 
 the attachment which that young gentleman 
 had formed for, and the engagement which 
 he had indeed entered into with, Miss Kate 
 Tryan, the daughter of a fraudulent bankrupt, 
 and who, together with her mother and sister, 
 w^as supported by the charity of her relatives. 
 He had a very strong affection for his sons, 
 and looked to them to make for themselves 
 good names in the world, for he was an 
 ambitious man. 
 
 " I," he would often say to his wife, " will
 
 A Fair Face. 20& 
 
 make the money, and the boys shall make the 
 name known. They've both had better edu- 
 cations than was ever given me, and will 
 stand a better chance along with their betters. 
 I know what I can do and what I can't do. 
 I'll make money against any man, but I 
 don't believe I shall do much more in this 
 world beyond enjoying myself, which, thank 
 God, I can always do." With this object in 
 view he had brought neither of his sons up to 
 follow him in his own business. He was a 
 shrewd man, and knew very well that after the 
 liberal public school education which he had 
 given them, and the society in which he had 
 encouraged t them to mix they would be 
 unlikely to take kindly to his calling. Indeed,, 
 on an occasion when Gerald was about sixteen 
 years of age, and had while at one of his 
 father's mills witnessed the severe treatment 
 with which defaulting tenants were visited, 
 he had spoken out rather freely his mind on 
 the subject, and had expressed a determi- 
 nation to face the world on his own ac- 
 count rather than resort for a livelihood to 
 what he called " slave driving." Mr. Triptree 
 had been angry at the time, but it caused
 
 204 A Very Old Question. 
 
 him to determine to bring his sons up to 
 other things ; and since, as we have before 
 hinted, he had great faith in the " manager" 
 system — so long as he himself was manager 
 of his managers — he perhaps did not regret 
 the turn of his son's inclination. 
 
 Gerald therefore had been articled to a 
 lawyer in Blackhampton ; and the second son, 
 who was still at one of the public schools was 
 to have his choice of the learned professions. 
 The attachment of his first-born to so un- 
 worthy an object as Miss Kate Tryan had 
 certainly been somewhat of a blow to Mr. 
 Triptree, for that young lady had neither 
 of the recommendations which he desired 
 in a daughter-in-law. 
 
 " I want the lad," he said to his wife, " to 
 marry a girl with either position or money ; 
 of course if she's got both, so much the 
 better, but I don't expect to have it all my 
 own way, and as I can find money for them 
 both, let him pick one with position — but as 
 for that girl of Tryan's, why, damme, she's got 
 neither — neither blood, bone, nor beauty 
 we say of a horse, and neither blood, bone, 
 nor brass I say of her."
 
 A Fair Face. 205 
 
 " But she's got the beauty," said Mrs. 
 Triptree, " and Gerald has fallen in love with 
 her pretty face." 
 
 " Because it's the first pretty face he's seen, 
 I suppose, 5 ' said Mr. Triptree. " Well, I 
 suppose the lad's been fool enough to com- 
 mit himself, and so we'll let it drift on a bit, 
 Mrs. T. Strike while the iron's hot is a very 
 good proverb, but it don't apply to young 
 folks in love ; if parents or guardians want to 
 break off a love-match, they must wait till 
 the iron's cold, and then strike. Therefore 
 take as little notice of it as maybe. Of 
 course you won't go near the Tryans, or have 
 anything to say to them. Mrs. Try an wrote 
 me a few days ago, asking me if I acknow- 
 ledged the engagement, and I just put her 
 letter in the fire without answering it, and 
 that's the course I mean to pursue. Time 
 enough to cut up rough when Gerald's passed 
 his examinations, and is a full-blown lawyer ; 
 but if no notice is taken he'll sicken of it 
 before then. He'd better make a special 
 study of breach of promise cases, and then 
 he'll know how to wriggle out of his own 
 with as little expense as possible. I daresay
 
 206 A Very Old Question. 
 
 it will cost me a hundred or two in damages 
 one day or another, but it'll keep Gerald 
 quiet in the meantime and perhaps be a 
 saving in the long run." 
 
 And thus Mr. Triptree judiciously consoled 
 Mmself, knowing well that his easy going- 
 wife would as usual follow his lead. Most 
 mothers, under the circumstances, would have 
 become warm partisans of their sons, but Mrs. 
 Triptree, though in most ways an excellent 
 mother, was much too feeble-minded to adopt 
 a course of her own which would be adverse 
 to any expressed opinion of her husband's, in 
 whom she believed devoutly, and though by 
 the attention which she lavished upon Gerald 
 when he came home, and by the numberless 
 ways in which she studied and provided for 
 his bodily comfort, she evinced a certain 
 amount of sympathy with him, it could not be 
 said that she took his part in the matter, or 
 in any way espoused his cause. 
 
 Gerald, for his part, loved Kate most dearly, 
 and to him it is only due to say that for her 
 sake he would have made any personal sacri- 
 fice ; but he also had a very high respect and 
 regard for his parents, and much as he dis-
 
 A Fair Face. 207 
 
 liked the existing state of things, was very 
 unwilling to have anything like an open breach 
 with his father. He hoped rather by hard 
 work, and diligent application to his studies, 
 to make a name for himself, which would not 
 only make him independent and free to marry 
 whom he chose, but of which his father would 
 b>e so proud that he would be only too glad to 
 welcome the wife of his choice. And work 
 hard Gerald certainly did, and notwithstand- 
 ing that the field in which he laboured was 
 terribly overrun in Blackhampton, almost 
 every respectable family in that large town 
 appearing to deem it necessary to bring up at 
 least one son to the legal profession, he bid 
 fair to outstrip many in the race, and to 
 win for himself a not unworthy reputation. 
 Gerald's was a warm and enthusiastic nature : 
 he loved and believed in work, in devotion, 
 and in self-sacrifice, and though it cannot be 
 said that he had yet been in any way severely 
 tried, for with the exception of this matter of 
 his affection for Kate Tryan, his every wish 
 had throughout his life been gratified, and 
 even now he met with no harsh words, and 
 always had his pockets well filled, there was
 
 208 A Very Old Question. 
 
 that in him which only required development 
 to show that there was in him the making of 
 a fine man. 
 
 Certainly none of that development which 
 a quarrel with his father, and a consequent 
 dependence upon himself, might have pro- 
 duced, was encouraged by Mrs. Tryan or her 
 daughter Kate. Mrs. Tryan was one of those 
 unfortunate ladies who " have known better 
 days." When she had married she had 
 brought to her husband (himself a handsome 
 and prosperous man) her own small fortune, 
 and for some years they had lived a life which 
 was in her estimation, the summit of human 
 ambition. She had had a large establishment, 
 driven in her own carriage-and-pair, mixed in 
 the best society of Blackhampton, and had 
 been herself considered as one of the first 
 among the elite of the place. Little had the 
 poor creature known that during these days 
 her husband was living far beyond his means, 
 was playing a desperate game with fortune in 
 which only quick strokes and bold moves (one 
 of which had been the expensive home estab- 
 lishment and social display in which she had 
 revelled) could serve him, and that by their
 
 A Fair Face. 209 
 
 means the inevitable crash was not avoided, 
 but merely deferred from day to day. On the 
 first appearance of the bailiffs in his house he 
 had shot himself, and in one short hour she 
 had to learn that her husband was a bankrupt, 
 a thief, and a suicide, and that she must ex- 
 change the life of luxury, to which she had 
 been accustomed, for one of penury, in which 
 she and her two little daughters, then mere 
 children, would have, without a penny, to 
 face the world, and unluckily that imme- 
 diately present world which her husband had 
 defrauded. 
 
 All these things taken into consideration it 
 cannot be said that the poor lady had played 
 her part badly. For the credit of human 
 nature, too, one is glad to be able to record 
 that she had at once received help from those 
 who had most suffered by her husbands ill- 
 doing. At the first meeting of his angry 
 creditors (several among whom were through 
 him well-nigh ruined), it was unanimously 
 resolved that sympathy must be shown for the 
 unfortunate widow, and that out of the frag- 
 ment of the estate which was left to be 
 divided among them, something should, if 
 
 vol. i. 14
 
 210 A Very Old Question. 
 
 possible, be set on one side for her and for 
 her children. Such sentiment is not seldom 
 to be found among stern men of business who 
 trade in towns similar to Blackhampton, and 
 it may not hereafter form an unimportant 
 item on the credit side of their final accounts. 
 Of course to such actions there are always 
 some few malcontents who are sticklers for the 
 " letter of the law," and foremost among these 
 was Mr. Triptree, who had been " hard hit " 
 by the defaulting Try an. Triptree was in 
 those days a comparatively young and strug- 
 gling man. He was struggling for two things, 
 for wealth and for position, for his origin had 
 been obscure, and the start which he had made 
 in the world had been due solely to himself. 
 He greatly envied such men as Tryan, when 
 he saw them lolling back in their fine carriages, 
 and heard too of their magnificent entertain- 
 ments at home : even in those days he had 
 had a love for sport, and he coveted this 
 man's well-bred horses and the leisure he had 
 wherein to ride them. One day when return- 
 ing from the hunting-field, he at that period 
 of his life hunted about thrice in a season on 
 a horse which he hired for the day, and which
 
 A Fair Face. 211 
 
 as a rule did duty as leader in a four-horse 
 omnibus, he overtook the great man and rode 
 alongside of him. 
 
 He was surprised at his affability, and flat- 
 tered that he knew his name, which in course 
 of conversation transpired, and becoming 
 better acquainted with him, he was not ill- 
 pleased to have an opportunity of associating 
 with him in sundry speculations ; and, finally, 
 on the same day that he received the much 
 coveted invitation to visit him at his house, 
 of lending him the sum of five hundred pounds. 
 The banquet to which Triptree was bidden, 
 however, had never come off. On the day on 
 which it was to be holden, Tryan had shot 
 himself, and the world knew that he was 
 insolvent and a swindler. Poor Triptree's 
 rage and dismay were terrible. Before all 
 things he plumed himself upon being a shrewd 
 man of business, and one whom it was im- 
 possible to take in ; nor must it be supposed 
 that he, without receiving good security for 
 it, had lent, even to a man for whose intimacy 
 he longed, so large a sum. No ; on the day 
 on which he had handed over his five hundred 
 pounds he had received in exchange a policy 
 
 14—2
 
 212 A Very Old Question. 
 
 of insurance on Tryan's life for double that 
 mm, and the fact of Tryan having died by 
 his own hand had reduced that policy to the 
 value of waste paper ! 
 
 In those days five hundred pounds was to 
 him a large sum, and a long time had to 
 elapse before he recovered the blow — (a time 
 during which the services of the omnibus 
 horse were not once called into requisition) — 
 or missed an opportunity to rail against the 
 name of the man who had thus robbed him. 
 As it has been shown, however, things had 
 ultimately prospered with Mr. Triptree, and 
 he had ceased to think of his old misfortune, 
 or to bear a grudge against the author of it, 
 when one day Gerald announced that he was 
 anxious to make his daughter his wife. That 
 this was rather " hard lines " upon Mr. Trip- 
 tree every one will allow, and it must be con- 
 ceded that he had acted both wisely and 
 temperately, inasmuch as he had given vent 
 to no ebullition of temper or disappointment, 
 but had let the matter drift on in the hope 
 that time would do for him what he felt on 
 the moment unable to do for himself. 
 
 As we have seen, he had held no communi-
 
 A Fair Face. 213 
 
 cation on the subject with Mrs. Try an, nor 
 indeed had he seen much of her since her 
 husband's death, but his knowledge of her 
 character, gathered partly from his own ac- 
 quaintance with her and partly from hearsay 
 concerning her, taught him that she would 
 unwittingly and unwillingly help him to gain 
 his end. For ever since the days of her pros- 
 perity, poor Mrs. Tryan, instead of reducing 
 her desires to the level of her means and of 
 bringing up her daughters in. accordance with 
 them, had constantly pined for, and endea- 
 voured to regain, her lost position. To mix 
 in what she called genteel society was indeed 
 the summit of this lady's ambition and her 
 ideal of the height of earthly happiness. 
 With such aims and desires it need hardly be 
 said that her life had become more than ever 
 a blighted and unhappy one, for of course now 
 that she had been brought low, the wealthy 
 acquaintances of her early days were chary 
 of having much to do with her, and thus she 
 laid herself open to numberless slights and 
 endless mortification. Nevertheless to keep 
 some sort of social position, and with a perse- 
 verance worthy of a better cause, she never
 
 214 A Very Old Question. 
 
 ceased to struggle ; with those whom she con- 
 sidered to be " commonplace " on no account 
 would she associate, and in her efforts to 
 secure for her daughters well-to-do husbands, 
 she was untiring. 
 
 Brought up after this fashion, and instilled 
 with such notions her two girls cannot be 
 said to have had many advantages, but in 
 some ways Mrs. Tryan was a clever and a 
 wise woman, and out of her slender means 
 had, by hook and by crook, managed to give 
 them both a very fair education, and as they 
 were endowed with considerable personal at- 
 tractions, she fondly encouraged and cherished 
 the hope that through their marriages with 
 wealthy men she might herself, in the autumn 
 of her life, enjoy some of the pleasures which 
 had been so long denied her. 
 
 Her eldest daughter Kate — a blonde of 
 great beauty — fully shared in her mothers 
 views and ambitions, and having been intro- 
 duced to young Gerald Triptree, and having 
 secured his admiration — as indeed she did 
 that of most young men — by no means dis- 
 couraged him in the marked attention which 
 he at once began to pay her, and though by
 
 A Fair Face, 21 5 
 
 the time he asked her to promise to become his 
 wife she really cared for him for his own sake, 
 for it was almost impossible for any one to be 
 thrown much with Gerald and not to be won 
 by him, I fear that, like her mother, she 
 had no small regard for his father's reputed 
 wealth, and for the fact that he had only one 
 brother with whom ultimately to share it. 
 
 Mr. Triptree's opposition to their engage- 
 ment had of course been a blow, but it can 
 hardly be said to have been an unexpected 
 one, and setting on one side Kate's real feel- 
 ing of affection for Gerald, both mother and 
 daughter agreed that the opportunity was 
 one which must not be lost, and that Mr. 
 Triptree's objections must be overcome or 
 lived down, for out of their very limited 
 acquaintance a more eligible suitor than Gerald 
 was not likely to offer himself. 
 
 I have said that Mr. Triptree had, out 
 of his worldly wisdom, calculated that Mrs. 
 Tryan would unwittingly and unwillingly 
 aid him in his desire to break off the engage- 
 ment of the young couple, and she did it after 
 this wise. Day after day, and in every con- 
 versation which she held with him, she laid
 
 216 A Very Old Question. 
 
 before Gerald his obligation to love and respect 
 his father, and the wrong which he would 
 commit, not only towards himself and him, 
 bat also towards Kate if he allowed his own 
 feelings to weigh against his filial duties or 
 his worldly prospects. Of exhorting him to 
 exercise patience she was never tired, and on 
 none of his visits, and these we may be sure 
 were neither few nor far between, did she fail 
 to inquire with the utmost solicitude after 
 the health of his " papa" and " mamma." 
 
 Now Gerald owned to himself that he 
 would certainly have felt a greater amount of 
 respect for Mrs. Tryan had she taken a more 
 independent course, and, while acknowledging 
 his engagement to Kate, ignored the question 
 of his father's opposition to it until such time 
 as he himself should speak of it. But this 
 she did not do, and it must be owned that 
 the fair Kate herself lost no opportunity of 
 impressing upon him his duty to his parents, 
 and the sorrow which she would feel if for 
 her sake he felt it incumbent upon him to 
 have any difference with them. All this 
 had its effect upon Gerald, and though he 
 was at present in that state of love that
 
 A Fair Face. 217 
 
 nothing on the part of Kate — short of atten- 
 tion to another man, and concerning this she 
 was, in his presence at least, very particular — 
 could possibly offend him, he did sometimes 
 own to himself that Mrs. Tryan was apt to be 
 tedious. 
 
 With a friend it was impossible for Gerald 
 Triptree to be reticent, and having formed for 
 Hammond Rockcliffe a sincere attachment, it 
 was but natural that he should acquaint him 
 with his attachment to Kate, and tell him of 
 his difficulties concerning their engagement, 
 and it was in order that he might be favoured 
 with an introduction to her in her own home 
 
 that Hammond had left The Shrubs earlv on 
 
 «/ 
 
 this Sunday evening. 
 
 From the thread of their conversation I 
 have considerably digressed, and as it would 
 probably be highly uninteresting to the reader 
 to listen to all Gerald's praises of his lady- 
 love, I will take it up again where it touched 
 upon another subject : 
 
 " But you told me that Mrs. Tryan had 
 two daughters," said Hammond, " and you 
 speak only of one. Does the other one live at 
 home ?"
 
 218 A Very Old Question. 
 
 " Oh, yes — Minnie Tryan. I have not yet- 
 told you about her. She is a dear girl, but 
 gives her mother a great deal of anxiety. 
 You must know " 
 
 But Hammond and Gerald were already too 
 near the Tryan's house for there to be much 
 opportunity of the latter acquainting the 
 former with many of the particulars of Minnie 
 Tryans' life, and as I wish full justice to be 
 done her, and she being worthy of it, I will 
 give her, as she deserves, a chapter to her- 
 self.
 
 Minnie Try an. 21 £ 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MINNIE TRYAN. 
 
 Children born of the same parents, but en- 
 dowed with different dispositions are not only 
 every day to be encountered, bat are associated 
 with the earliest records of the history of the 
 human race. Were not Adam and Eve the 
 parents of Cain and Abel — Isaac, the father 
 of Esau and Jacob ; and Jacob, in his turn, of 
 the ten sons who inherited his own selfish 
 and objectionable disposition, and of Joseph 
 and Benjamin who would appear to have 
 taken more after their easy-going uncle Esau ? 
 This, by the way, is not I fear the orthodox 
 mode of looking at the matter, but I confess 
 that I always feel that Esau is somewhat 
 hardly dealt with in history, and that Jacob 
 receives more credit, as well as more of his
 
 220 A Very Old Question. 
 
 share of earthly prosperity than he in any 
 way deserves. 
 
 Be this, however, as it may, I have very 
 good authority for showing that Kate Try an 
 and her sister Minnie, though born of the 
 same parents and brought up under exactly 
 similar circumstances were very differently 
 constituted, and possessed ideas and senti- 
 ments as widely asunder as are the two 
 poles. 
 
 Of Kate I have already spoken as of a 
 very beautiful girl, full of regrets for the 
 social position which her family had lost, with 
 a heart full of longing for the pleasures and 
 luxuries of life, and ready to strain every 
 nerve and use every effort to secure for herself 
 that which she believed to constitute happiness 
 — in other words, to make a good marriage. 
 In the ordinary way, and when she was alone 
 at home with her mother and sister, Kate was 
 not the most agreeable or fascinating of young 
 ladies, for at such times she would be fre- 
 quently fretful and peevish, and grumbled 
 loudly at her lot in life, and the pleasures 
 which fate had denied her. Mrs. Tryan's dis- 
 position was a similar one, but she had more
 
 Minnie Try an. 221 
 
 courage and endurance than her daughter, 
 and she possessed too a firm belief in the 
 efficacy of effort, and thus while they were 
 equally discontented with their lot, the 
 mother was able to comfort herself with the 
 knowledge that she lost no opportunity of 
 endeavouring to improve it, while Kate fre- 
 quently gave way to long periods of despair. 
 That these periods were not while Gerald was 
 a visitor at their house I need hardly say ; 
 while he was by she was as amiable and as 
 charming as it was possible for so beautiful a 
 girl to be, and if occasionally she evinced a 
 consciousness that her surroundings were not 
 to her liking, she did it in so pretty and 
 becoming a way that it only made Gerald the 
 happier to think that one day it might be his 
 good fortune to place her in a position con- 
 sonant with her tastes. 
 
 Minnie's nature, views, aims and ends were 
 altogether different, and indeed Mrs. Tryan's 
 constant theme of conversation with Kate and 
 her more intimate friends, was the amount of 
 trouble and anxiety which this young lady 
 caused her. For not only did Minnie insist on 
 being constantly cheerful, happy and contented,
 
 222 A Very Old Question. 
 
 but she would openly and with much earnest- 
 ness assert that their life might and ought to 
 be a happy one, that they would do well to try 
 and make it so, and not waste time in striving 
 for, and longing after, things wholly beyond 
 their reach, and therefore impossible for them 
 to attain. 
 
 But this was not the worst. Not con- 
 tented with mere words, this graceless young 
 lady was so independent that she deliberately 
 formed friendships and intimacies with people 
 in a similar position to their own, and even 
 made friendly overtures with their very neigh- 
 bours, among whom it had ever been Mrs. 
 Tryan's pride to know that it was tacitly 
 acknowledged that, although now living in a 
 house with a low rental and in impoverished 
 circumstances, her antecedents had been very 
 different, and it could not be expected that 
 she should mix as an equal with those who 
 neither knew nor desired a higher condition of 
 society. 
 
 But all these delightful little social distinc- 
 tions and barriers her own child was doing 
 her best to overthrow. 
 
 " You pain me very much indeed, Minnie,"
 
 Minnie Try an. 223 
 
 said Mrs. Try an one day, almost in tears ; and 
 when she had met Minnie wheeling the double 
 perambulator containing the robust, but not 
 over clean, youngest children of their next 
 door neighbour, a man who had been a foot- 
 man in a gentleman's family and now went 
 out as a waiter by the night, " if I had en- 
 couraged you in this sort of thing it would 
 have been different, but you know how I have 
 always striven to keep myself aloof from the 
 common herd, and yet you do all that you can 
 to place yourself on a par with them. After 
 the way in which I pinched and contrived, 
 and denied myself in order to give you a good 
 education, and to make a lady of you, it is 
 too ungrateful — upon my word it is." 
 
 "My dear mamma," returned Minnie, "what 
 on earth has a good education got to do with 
 pushing a perambulator ? but wait till I ex- 
 onerate myself. At the bottom of the hill I 
 saw the Browns' perambulator with a great 
 head lolling out on each side of it, and behind it 
 that preposterous little servant of theirs who, 
 poor child, had almost to stand on tiptoe to 
 reach the handle, and who was going almost 
 black in her face in her efforts, not to push
 
 224 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the machine up the hill, that she seemed to 
 have abandonned as a task altogether beyond 
 her, but to prevent it running back of its own 
 accord and so annihilating her. Both the 
 little Browns were screaming lustily : the 
 east-wind was nearly cutting them in two ; 
 their poor little eyes and mouths were as full 
 of dust as they could be, and under the cir- 
 cumstances I thought it only an act of common 
 humanity to come to the rescue, and propel 
 them up the hill, which I can assure you was 
 no such very heavy task, and you know I had 
 not even to come out of my way to do it." 
 
 a I would not have touched the Browns' 
 perambulator .with a pair of tongs," said Kate 
 scornfully. 
 
 " You certainly should not have done it, 
 Minnie," said Mrs. Try an ; " and then to stop 
 in the public road and shake hands with Mrs. 
 Brown." 
 
 " Did she do that ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " I am afraid I did," said Minnie. " You 
 see she thanked me and offered me her hand, 
 and as I hadn't a pair of tongs I gave her 
 mine. I wish we could afford to keep two 
 pair, then T would always carry one with me."
 
 Minnie Try an. 225 
 
 " Mamma/' said Kate, indignantly, " do 
 you mean to sit by and hear me spoken to 
 like this V 
 
 " I hope, my dear," said Mrs Tryan, " that 
 Minnie is only thoughtless. She would hardly, 
 I think, speak and act as she does if she knew 
 how much it pained me. She is younger than 
 you, and has yet to learn to have a proper 
 pride. Unlucky reverses have made our posi- 
 tion a painful one, and we should always 
 remember that in more senses than one we 
 cannot afford to do as others do. Situated 
 as Minnie is she cannot afford to demean her- 
 self to the Browns or even to be friendly with 
 them. If any of her father's relations had 
 seen her wheeling that perambulator, the con- 
 sequences might have been direful." 
 
 " Under any circumstances her father's re- 
 latives decline to acknowledge her," returned 
 Minnie ; " so I cannot see that it would so 
 much have mattered." 
 
 Little circumstances similar to this one in 
 which the Browns' perambulator played a 
 part, occurred almost daily, and all of them 
 proved to Mrs. Tryan and Kate that Minnie 
 was wholly without that "proper pride" which 
 
 vol. i. 15
 
 2 A 26 A Very Old Question. 
 
 they had agreed in their peculiar circumstances, 
 was the one sentiment which should before all 
 others be cherished and encouraged. 
 
 Disappointing as this was, however, Minnie 
 was so useful both to her mother and sister that, 
 although it could not be expected that they 
 could either forget or pass over her numerous 
 shortcomings, they had by degrees learnt to 
 tolerate a great deal in her, and it is not im- 
 possible that Mrs. Tryan sometimes acknow- 
 ledged to herself that, for the comfort of them 
 all, it was well she was so willing to turn her 
 hand to anything, for indeed it was a question 
 how without her they would have got on. 
 
 We most of us know that the individual in 
 a Household who receives the most attention 
 is the one who demands the most, and that 
 the weak go to the wall, not so much on 
 account of their weakness as on account of 
 their want of self-assertion either physically 
 or by word of mouth. If you want sympathy 
 for pain it is well to cry out loudly about it ; 
 if you desire to be constantly waited upon 
 state opeuly and often your inability to wait 
 upon yourself ; in a word if you wish to have 
 general consideration shown you, make it
 
 Minnie Try an. 227 
 
 publicly known that you consider yourself an 
 aggrieved person, that your delicate nature 
 and fine sensibilities demand for you divers 
 attentions of which the more thick-skinned of 
 your family and friends do not even think, 
 and if you happen to be the first in the field 
 you will soon find yourself in the position 
 which you desire, and that others will make 
 way for you, and give up to you simply be- 
 cause you have been shrewd enough to ask 
 them so to do. 
 
 There w-as no earthly reason why Kate 
 Tryan should have received more considera- 
 tion than her sister Minnie. Both had had 
 the same bringing up and education, the one 
 was equally as good-looking as the other, and 
 it cannot be said that Mrs. Tryan had shown 
 for either any special preference ; but now 
 that the two girls had grown up to be young 
 women, and took an active part in the manage- 
 ment and conduct of their small household, it 
 seemed to be understood (for there had never 
 been any discussion about it) that the work 
 was to devolve upon Minnie, and that Kate 
 was merely to assist with her judgment and 
 opinion, and that she had a perfect right to 
 
 15—2
 
 228 A Very Old Question. 
 
 be exceedingly hurt in her mind if the same 
 were not acted upon. Then it naturally came 
 to pass that Minnie, having shown this liking 
 for work while Kate had evinced that her 
 tastes lay more in the elegancies of life, more 
 money was spent upon the dress and decora- 
 tion of the one than of the other. Indeed it 
 would have been very unsuitable had Minnie, 
 who went about the house with her sleeves 
 rolled over her elbows and her dress pinned 
 up to her knee, worn anything but old gar- 
 ments, while Kate, who took such care of her 
 things and sat so quietly over her embroidery 
 was surely free to indulge so far as her 
 mother's slender purse could enable her to do 
 so, her pretty taste for dress ? And as Kate 
 could not bear to wear old things, and Minnie 
 did not seem much to mind about it, it 
 followed, as a matter of course, that new 
 dresses were seldom ordered but for the one, 
 and that the other usually arrayed herself in 
 second-hand apparel. 
 
 Not, be it understood, that Minnie ever 
 appeared, or allowed herself to appear, untidy 
 in her attire. Indeed this young lady was as 
 fastidious as most with regard to her personal
 
 Minnie Try an. 229 
 
 appearance, only a very little satisfied her. 
 Both she and Kate had charming figures. 
 Kate, somewhat the taller of the two, slender- 
 waisted, and with sloping shoulders, was the 
 more graceful in her bearing, while Minnie's 
 dainty little figure approached more to what 
 is sometimes termed the " trim ;" and Kate 
 would sit by in languid surprise at the interest 
 which Minnie would take in cutting, contriving 
 and shaping one of her cast-ofT dresses to fit 
 to a nicety her own little body. 
 
 "Is it worth while, Minnie," she would say, 
 " spending so much time over a dress for the 
 rough work in which you seem to take a de- 
 light r 
 
 " Certainly it is worth while," said Minnie ; 
 " I hate to see a girl whose things fit her like 
 a sack. I couldn't do my work neatly if I 
 didn't feel neat myself." 
 
 " The rough work," spoken of by Kate of 
 course told its tale, and Minnie's hands and 
 arms, though not one whit less shapely, be- 
 came soon of a less snowy white than her 
 sisters, and having the greater part of her 
 time and her thoughts occupied with her 
 household duties, for they kept but one very
 
 230 A Very Old Question. 
 
 small servant, she could only simply braid and 
 plait her glossy brown hair, whereas Kate 
 paid great attention to her long golden tresses, 
 and coiled them in a way ravishing to see ; 
 and thus it became universally acknowledged 
 that Kate was the superior of the two, and 
 that Mrs. Try an had shown her usual judg- 
 ment in bringing up Minnie to do the useful 
 work of the house, and allowing Kate leisure 
 wherein to improve herself. But a change 
 was to come, and Mrs. Tryan was to be more 
 than ever impressed with the ungrateful and 
 extraordinary disposition of her youngest 
 daughter. 
 
 Of the exceeding slenderness of Mrs. Tryan's 
 income, I have more than once spoken, and, 
 indeed, it required all the care and manage- 
 ment of which she and her two daughters 
 were capable to enable them to keep up their 
 very small house, to dress respectably, and, in 
 short, to accomplish that feat which is fre- 
 quently described as " making two ends 
 meet." It had been her intention that one at 
 least of her girls should go out as a governess, 
 and it was with this object that she had been 
 so anxious about their education, and had
 
 Minnie Try an. 231 
 
 even succeeded in inducing some of her hus- 
 band's and her own relatives to contribute 
 towards the expenses thereof, but Kate had 
 evinced and expressed such a decided distaste 
 for teaching others, that her fond mother had 
 been induced to allow her to remain in idleness 
 at home, feeling confident that the day could 
 not be far distant when some eligible bachelor 
 would be attracted by her pretty face, and 
 that she would be provided for in a way which 
 would above all others be satisfactory to her. 
 Minnie, as we have seen, had taken upon her- 
 self most of the work of the little household, 
 and her time being- thus occupied, and she 
 being very young, it had not probably occurred 
 to her that the right and the wise thing for 
 her to do would be to relieve her mother of 
 the expense of keeping her, and that it would 
 be well for her to earn a livelihood for herself. 
 Thus they lived on, and by exercising the 
 most rigid economy, and planning and con- 
 triving as women so well know how to do, not 
 only at the end of the year did the two ends 
 just come together, but they were able to 
 present so good an appearance to the world 
 that, although their neighbour, Mrs. Brown,
 
 232 A Very Old Question. 
 
 who was a vulgar as well as a jealous woman, 
 might to a certain extent have been right 
 when she said that " the Tryans put all their 
 money on to their backs and none into their 
 stomachs," they had the reputation of being 
 better off than they were. 
 
 But any little additional expense over and 
 above the ordinary cost of their living quite 
 crippled their resources, and when anything 
 of the sort occurred, it was Mrs. Tryans un- 
 pleasant task to apply to those relatives and 
 friends to whom she was already indebted for 
 her income, for additional assistance, and 
 though for a long time such assistance was 
 never refused, it was given so grudgingly and 
 with so many remarks as to its being her 
 duty to limit her expenditure to the amount 
 which she received annually, and so forth, 
 that it was only under the most urgent cir- 
 cumstances that she could screw up her 
 courage to the ordeal. 
 
 When, however, young Gerald Triptree 
 showed how great an impression had been 
 made upon him by Kate, and Mrs. Try an felt 
 that in him was the wealthy suitor for whom 
 she had longed, she made up her mind that
 
 Minnie Tryan. 23& 
 
 so golden an opportunity must not be suffered 
 to go by, and that prudence must for the 
 nonce be thrown on one side. 
 
 Pretty new dresses therefore were ordered 
 for Kate, the small stock of furniture of which 
 they stood possessed was thoroughly over- 
 hauled, and extravagances committed in the 
 shape of new chair covers, a new carpet, and 
 even of new wall papers ; when Gerald was 
 invited to spend an evening more good things 
 were placed on the table than in the ordinary 
 course of things appeared there in a twelve- 
 month, and, to quote Mrs. Brown's words, the 
 Tryans " went it like anything." 
 
 Mrs. Tryan gained her wish. Gerald pro- 
 posed to Kate and Kate accepted him ; but 
 the good lady's satisfaction had been sadly 
 interfered with by the opposition, or rather 
 indifference, to the engagement displayed by 
 Mr. Triptree, and though she was willing to 
 believe that time would set this right, the 
 settling of the bills required her immediate 
 attention. 
 
 The usual application to the relatives was 
 made, and for the first time denied. The 
 letter which Mrs. Tryan received in answer
 
 234 A Very Old Question. 
 
 to her request was a hard but perhaps not 
 altogether an unreasonable one. It was 
 plainly pointed out to her by those upon 
 whose bounty she depended, that in their 
 opinion she was not justified in making these 
 additional demands while her two daughters 
 led idle lives at home; that considerable 
 assistance had already been given towards 
 defraying the cost of their education, to the 
 end that they might become governesses, and 
 so be independent of charity, but that instead 
 of this plan having been carried out they were 
 being encouraged in doing nothing, and in 
 conducting themselves as young ladies of posi- 
 tion, and, in fine, that it had been determined 
 that not only must the present application be 
 refused, but that unless the girls at once made 
 an effort to do something for themselves, all 
 support would be withdrawn. 
 
 This letter drove poor Mrs. Tryan almost to 
 her wits' end. What was she to do ? Accord- 
 ing to her theory, if Kate were now, whether 
 she liked it or no, sent out as a governess, the 
 aversion which the Triptree family had dis- 
 played for the engagement between her and 
 Gerald, would naturally increase tenfold, and
 
 Minnie Tryan. 235 
 
 that even Gerald himself might be disinclined 
 to extend to a governess the affection which 
 he lavished so warmly upon Kate in her own 
 home. To run the risk of losing Gerald was 
 before all things to be deprecated, and yet 
 something must at once be done to appease 
 the angry relatives. Minnie must go. She 
 was exceedingly useful at home, but that 
 must somehow be got over, and it could only 
 be hoped that Gerald would be generous 
 enough to overlook the humiliating fact that 
 the sister of his intended wife was obliged to 
 earn her own living. 
 
 Mrs. Tryan, therefore, resolved at once to 
 inform her youngest born of the contents of 
 the letter, and her decision concerning it. 
 
 "Well," she asked anxiously, as Minnie 
 finished reading the obnoxious epistle. "What 
 do you think of it V 
 
 " Think of it !" cried Minnie ; " why there 
 is only one thing to think and to say about 
 it — they are quite right and we are all in the 
 wrong not to have thought of it before." 
 
 " Well, I hardly expected you to say that, 
 you ungrateful girl," said Mrs. Tryan, indig- 
 nantly. " What, I am quite wrong, am I, in
 
 236 A Very Old Question. 
 
 endeavouring to keep my daughters at home 
 like ladies, instead of insisting, as most 
 mothers would do, that they should go out 
 and work for themselves ? A nice return this 
 is for all I have done for you." 
 
 " Mamma," said Minnie, " I did not mean 
 that it was you who had been wrong. You 
 have done everything you could for our sakes, 
 I know ; but Kate and I have been very 
 wrong in not having better realised our posi- 
 tions. Of course we ought to work for our- 
 selves, and make ourselves independent of 
 everybody." 
 
 " Then you do not offer any opposition to 
 going out as a governess ¥' said Mrs. Tryan 
 — perhaps somewhat relieved on this score, 
 for though a lady with a fairly strong will of 
 her own, she stood somewhat in awe of her 
 daughters, who were apt to manage her pretty 
 much as they liked. 
 
 " Opposition !" replied Minnie, " certainly 
 not. I shall write to-night and tell them of 
 my determination. Indeed, I long to be at 
 work, and to prove to them that I mean what 
 I say." 
 
 " What we shall do without you at home, I
 
 Minnie Tryan. 237 
 
 am sure I do not know," said Mrs. Tryan. 
 " Of course you must take a resident 
 governess's situation- — daily governesses are 
 paid so badly." 
 
 " I do not know what I shall do at present,"- 
 said Minnie, "but I daresay I shall soon be 
 able to decide. What does Kate say about 
 
 it r 
 
 " I have not yet spoken to Kate," said Mrs. 
 Tryan. " Of course her engagement to Mr. 
 Triptree " 
 
 " Does not make a bit of difference," broke 
 in Minnie. " She will do something as well 
 as I, and if Gerald Triptree is worth having 
 or thinking about, he will respect and love 
 her all the more." 
 
 " So you may think," said Mrs. Tryan ; 
 "indeed you are rather too fond of saying what 
 you think Minnie, and of believing that no 
 one is right but yourself. If you had had my 
 experience you would know that a young man 
 in Mr. Gerald's position would have a good 
 excuse for breaking his engagement if he found 
 out he was tied to a governess." 
 
 "And if that is the sort of young man he 
 is," said Minnie, " I should say that the sooner
 
 238 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the engagement were broken the better, and 
 I should think Kate would say the same thing. 
 If I were in her place I should break it at 
 once, and so I have told her." 
 
 " And a very ill-natured thing it was to 
 say," said Mrs. Tryan. " Kate was much hurt 
 about it. What could have induced you 
 to say it unless it was jealousy, I cannot 
 imagine. " 
 
 " That's not a very good-natured thing for 
 you to say, mamma ; but if you want my 
 opinion of Kate's engagement to Mr. Gerald 
 Triptree, it is that you ought not to tolerate 
 it for one single day until his father and 
 mother acknowledge it and acknowledge 
 you. I feel positively ashamed to look him 
 in the face when he comes here, and I blush 
 when you ask after his parents. You say 
 I have no proper pride — perhaps not ; but I 
 have a feeling which tells me that we ought 
 to be ashamed of acting as we are, and that 
 we make ourselves very ridiculous in striving 
 to mix with people who are better off than 
 we are and consider themselves above us. 
 There — perhaps now you will be reconciled to 
 my going away as a resident governess. Now
 
 Minnie Try an. 239 
 
 I will go and talk with Kate about this letter, 
 which I should agree with you, was perfectly 
 abominable if I did not know that it was 
 perfectly justifiable. " 
 
 And not waiting to hear Mrs. Tryan's 
 indignant remarks on this undutiful outburst, 
 Minnie left the room and went at once to her 
 sister full of her new determination to work 
 and be independent. 
 
 But upon this, as upon many other subjects, 
 she found that she and Kate held very dif- 
 ferent opinions. Kate was highly indignant 
 with the relatives who had written the letter, 
 was quite sure that the right thing to do was 
 to ignore it altogether, and to take no notice 
 of the vulgar threats which it contained ; was 
 convinced that there was not the slightest 
 necessity for altering their present mode of 
 life, and at once took up her mothers argu- 
 ment that, so far as she was concerned, it 
 would be in the highest degree unbecoming in 
 her if, just as she was engaged to Gerald 
 Triptree, she should demean herself by taking 
 a situation as governess. As for Minnie, and 
 the view which she chose to take of the 
 matter, that was just what one might have
 
 240 A Very Old Question. 
 
 expected. Minnie had no pride and no spirit. 
 If, as their mother said, it was better that 
 Minnie should go, of course it was a good 
 thing that she did not mind, but nevertheless 
 it was provoking in her that she did not 
 grumble about it. 
 
 But Miss Minnie's opinions on the subject 
 were so decided that she could by no means 
 be induced to let it drop, and having taken 
 upon herself the duty of answering the letter, 
 and stating the course which she intended to 
 take, she returned with renewed energy to 
 Kate, bent on inducing her to adopt a similar 
 one ; but Mrs. Try an went over to Kate's 
 side, being not a little incensed at the way in 
 which Minnie spoke out her mind, and during 
 the next few days if open warfare was not 
 waged, so much sharp argument and discus- 
 sion went on, that the usually quiet little 
 house was completely changed. Eventually 
 Minnie had to acknowledge herself defeated, 
 for Kate was quite immovable, and having 
 come to this conclusion, she began to look 
 about her and to form her own plans. 
 
 In a few days these were ripe, and she 
 informed her mother that she had taken a
 
 Minnie Try an, 241 
 
 situation and meant at once to commence 
 work. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked the amazed 
 Mrs. Tryan, " taken a situation without having 
 consulted me ? Really, Minnie, " you are too 
 headstrong and self-willed. Such a step can- 
 not be taken without the gravest conside- 
 ration. Into what family pray do you pro- 
 pose going, and from whom have you had 
 references ? I shall certainly require them 
 before I permit you to enter into a formal 
 engagement, and shall not entertain any place 
 without a strong recommendation from a 
 clergyman of the Church of England. You 
 mean to commence work at once ? Why, 
 you foolish girl, you know very well that it 
 will take some weeks to get you ready. You 
 will have to have a thorough new outfit before 
 you can go into any gentleman's family. You 
 must not speak and act in this way." 
 
 " I mean to save you the expense of an 
 outfit/' said Minnie. "It would be absurd, 
 just when we want money, to fores tal my 
 first year's earnings by buying a quantity of 
 unnecessary clothes. Besides," she added, 
 while a somewhat humorous expression came 
 
 vol. i. 16
 
 242 A Very Old Question. 
 
 into her face, " in the place which I have 
 taken new dresses are not required." 
 
 "It must be a very queer kind of place 
 then," said Kate, smoothing her own be- 
 coming dress and looking somewhat disdain- 
 fully at Minnie's shabby one, "if they are 
 willing to take you as you are now. I know 
 you have worn the same things all this week, 
 so whoever the people may be they cant have 
 seen you otherwise." 
 
 " Minnie has acted very wrongly," said 
 Mrs. Try an, " in entertaining any situation 
 without consulting me, and I am deeply hurt 
 at her undutifulness. Perhaps she will now 
 be more explicit, and tell me who and what 
 these people are." 
 
 " Dear mamma," said Minnie, gently, " I 
 mean to be explicit and to tell you just my 
 ideas and my plans. I should have done so 
 before, but that I knew you would not 
 approve of them, though I am sure that the 
 time will come when you will acknowledge 
 that I am right. I do not want to go and 
 be a governess. I do not want to leave 
 home, and you, and Kate. I know that I 
 can be useful to you, and that you would
 
 Minnie Tryan, 243 
 
 miss me when I had gone. I want therefore 
 to do something which will enable me to 
 come home every evening, and still see to 
 things here. First of all, I thought I would 
 go and be a daily governess, but places are 
 difficult to get, and the pay is as poor as the 
 work is hard, and besides that I am not 
 qualified to take a first-rate situation. You 
 hardly know, mamma, how much a governess 
 is expected nowadays to know and to do. 
 Then again, there is that great objection 
 which I have just raised, that to be a gover- 
 ness at all would involve immediate expenses 
 which instead of helping us out of our pre- 
 sent difficulties would only get us into fresh 
 ones ; and once again, I know a governess' 
 life would not suit me, for I should soon get 
 cross and ill-tempered, and should imagine 
 that everyone was slighting me, and though 
 you think I have no pride I could not bear 
 that. Well, I have been thinking well over 
 all these things, and could not help wonder- 
 ing whether there were not means in Black- 
 hampton of earning money in other ways 
 besides teaching, for which I know I am not 
 at all fitted. I have made inquiries and find 
 
 16—2
 
 244 A Very Old Question. 
 
 that there are numbers of girls here employed 
 in factories, not at common work, but at 
 skilled work, quite as pretty and as interesting 
 as any accomplishment, and that when they 
 are very clever at it, they can earn quite as 
 much as governesses without having the 
 horrible expense of having to dress like a 
 lady of means, while in comparison they 
 work quite short hours. In the jewellery trade 
 there are plenty of girls working at pretty 
 light work, which, if it were the fashion, as 
 perhaps some day, like wood-carving, it will he, 
 ladies would delight to do in their drawing- 
 rooms. There, that is my idea. Of course 
 I don't know how I shall succeed, but I have 
 found a place where the people are quite 
 ready to teach me my work, and I mean to 
 give it a trial." 
 
 To say that Mrs. Tryan was aghast at this 
 statement of her daughter's would convey 
 most inadequately to the reader the state of 
 that good lady's mind. Though Minnie's 
 remarks had not at the commencement been 
 allowed to pass uninterrupted by her mother 
 — interruptions which I have not thought it 
 worth while to record — the termination of
 
 Minnie Try an. 245 
 
 them seemed for the moment to strike her 
 dumb with horror and amazement, and she 
 sat speechless, though quivering with indig- 
 nation. 
 
 Kate, however, was at no loss for words in 
 which to express her anger with, and con- 
 tempt for, her sister. 
 
 " So you would actually think of going to 
 be a low factory girl," she cried. "You 
 mean-spirited, selfish creature, and yet all the 
 time you take credit to yourself for doing 
 what is right. Yes ; I say you are selfish— 
 abominably selfish — -for of course if you carry 
 out this wicked, detestable scheme, all my 
 prospects and chances of happiness are at 
 an end." 
 
 Minnie had said, her say with most un- 
 wonted nervousness and hesitation. She 
 knew that what she was about to do would 
 cause her sister great annoyance and her 
 mother no small amount of pain, but having 
 determined in her own mind that the course 
 upon which she had decided was a right and 
 wise one, she had nerved herself to the task 
 of breaking it to them. Now, however, that 
 the ice was broken, and Kate had commenced
 
 246 A Very Old Question. 
 
 her attack, she recovered her self-possession 
 and re-asserted herself. 
 
 " You have no right to speak to me like 
 that, Kate/' she said. " Mr. Gerald Triptree 
 is in love with you, not me, and if anything 
 which I can do can affect him in his feeling 
 for you, he is not worth a rush, and the 
 sooner he takes his ]eave the better for you. 
 You talk of my having no pride. If you had 
 vlwj, you would feel as I do, and work your 
 fingers to the bone rather than be dependent 
 upon unwilling help from others. If I take 
 extreme views and do extreme things, it is 
 because you and mamma drive me to it by 
 your nonsensical airs, and your efforts to 
 appear otherwise than what we really are." 
 
 At this juncture Mrs. -Tryan, hearing her 
 name and her actions thus made light of, 
 recovered her speech and took her part in the 
 stormy discussion which ensued. 
 
 With this little family dispute I will not 
 further weary the reader. Such scenes are 
 always sad and disagreeable ones, and since, 
 in them, people are invariably seen at their 
 worst, none of my characters would gain by a 
 detailed account of this one, which ended
 
 Minnie Try an. 247 
 
 with Mrs. Tryan and Kate shedding tears, 
 and Minnie, with dry eyes, though pale face, 
 being more determined than ever. 
 
 Indeed, this little lady had a will of her 
 own which was too strong for either her 
 mother or sister, and so in the course of a day 
 or two they both had to acknowledge ; and 
 when on a certain Monday morning she first 
 sallied forth to commence her new vocation, 
 they felt themselves so thoroughly defeated, 
 that they even ceased to speak to each other 
 of her dreadful conduct. 
 
 And then ensued for poor Minnie a very 
 trying time. At home she had to encounter 
 cold looks and hard words, while her work, 
 which had in theory appeared so easy and so 
 pleasant had in practice proved to be laborious, 
 difficult to learn, and in many ways unsuited 
 to a girl whose nature was sensitive, and whose 
 experience of the world and of people of little 
 worth. The work itself was interesting 
 enough and well fitted for quick fingers and a 
 bright and clever taste ; but the work, of 
 course, meant workfellows, and upon their 
 different ways and habits Minnie had not 
 counted. At the end of the first week she
 
 248 A Very Old Question. 
 
 was so far discouraged that she asked her 
 employers whether it would be possible for 
 them to allow her to take her work home, and 
 do it there, but having been told that this 
 was impossible, she made up her mind to 
 overcome her prejudices, for even though she 
 might acknowledge to herself that she had 
 made a mistake, she could not bear the idea 
 of her mother and sister's triumph over her. 
 Her heart too told her that she ought to 
 succeed ; that her theory that it was better 
 for a girl in her position to earn good money 
 at what was in its way a fine art, than to earn 
 less as a second-rate governess, which she 
 knew well was all that she was in that 
 capacity fitted for, was a good theory, and 
 was one which ought to work well in practice, 
 and she decided that the difficulties which 
 beset her were trivial and ought to be sur- 
 mounted. 
 
 And so with a praiseworthy courage she 
 nerved herself to her task, and not only did 
 she work hard all day, but when at home she 
 still fulfilled the majority of the house duties 
 which had always fallen to her lot, and amidst 
 it all always wore a cheerful look.
 
 Minnie Try an. 249 
 
 Among the Tryans' circle of acquaintance 
 (which was limited), the opinions about Minnie 
 Tryan and her conduct (which were unlimited, 
 for they extended into other circles) were 
 pretty equally divided among two parties, 
 whereof one sympathised deeply with Mrs. 
 Tryan, and loudly condemned her daughter's 
 eccentric, undutiful, and unladylike conduct, 
 while the other applauded her independence, 
 averred that she was quite right in showing 
 that she believed that she had no pretensions 
 to be called a lady, and that the sooner the 
 rest of the family followed her example the 
 better. Among these Minnie had to fight her 
 own way. The slights of the first party she 
 outwardly received w 7 ith contempt, but in- 
 wardly felt keenly ; the boisterous familiarity 
 of the second party was distasteful to her, and 
 she resented it. 
 
 Was she right or was she wrong in the 
 course of life which of her own free will she 
 had adopted ? After a few months this was 
 a- question which she was continually asking 
 herself, and to which she could never find a 
 satisfactory answer. Her theory had no doubt 
 been an excellent one, but she stood too much
 
 250 A Very Old Question. 
 
 alone. To be first in any field is always a 
 trying position, and one which a young and 
 inexperienced girl can hardly be expected to 
 fill with entire comfort and satisfaction to 
 herself. Minnie Tryan persevered and was 
 apparently as happy as she was cheerful, but 
 no one knew how sorely she stood in need of 
 friendly sympathisers and advisers, or how 
 keenly she felt the want of them. Both Mrs. 
 Tryan and Kate benefitted materially by her 
 weekly earnings, but expressed by their 
 silence, much more eloquently than they could 
 by words, the indignation with which they 
 regarded her conduct, and never from Monday 
 morning to Saturday night did they ask a 
 single question as to the manner in which she 
 spent the many hours which she passed away 
 from home. This was Minnie's position, and 
 the position which Mrs. Tryan and Kate held 
 towards her, on the Sunday evening when 
 Gerald Triptree proposed to introduce Ham- 
 mond Rockcliffe to them. Of it, however, 
 Gerald knew but little ; indeed when he 
 visited them he was too much in love with 
 Kate to have eyes or ears for any one else. 
 He knew that Minnie worked, he believed that
 
 Minnie Try an. 251 
 
 she was eccentric, had heard from Mrs. Try an 
 that she was undutiful; but had for her a 
 very sincere liking as a good little body who 
 waited most cheerfully on Kate. 
 
 This for the present is all that need be said 
 of Minnie Tiyan, though, by the way, it ought 
 to be stated that the firm by whom she was 
 engaged was the newly established, but enter- 
 prising one of Northover and Weskut.
 
 252 A Very Old Question. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HAMMOND UNDERTAKES A TRUST. 
 
 Hammond left the Tryans' house early, and 
 walked alone to Blackhampton. He had been 
 charmed by Kate, interested and amused by 
 Minnie, and, if the truth must be told, some- 
 what bored by Mrs. Try an. On the other 
 hand Kate pronounced him as delightful, 
 Minnie thought him pleasant but reserved, 
 and Mrs. Tryan was wholly won by the gen- 
 tlemanly condescension which enabled a young 
 man so aristocratically connected, to spend an 
 evening in so humble a home as her own. 
 He was much pressed to stay until Gerald 
 went, but he was anxious to get to the Great 
 Northern Hotel, and to ascertain whether 
 Godfrey Northover had indeed arrived there ; 
 and was also conscious of the fact that although
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 253- 
 
 Gerald joined in the entreaties, he would best 
 consult his desires and wishes by leaving him 
 alone for a time with his mistress, and so with 
 promises to repeat his visit, he took his de- 
 parture. 
 
 Thinking of his new friends and of his old, 
 of his past life and of his present, and above 
 all of Gertrude, whose image was, alas, always 
 before him, he arrived at the Great Northern 
 Hotel — a huge edifice adjoining one of the 
 chief railway stations of the town of Black- 
 hampton. 
 
 What is there that can equal the dreariness 
 of an hotel on Sunday ? The lot of that man 
 who has to pass the day of rest alone in an 
 hotel is indeed an unenviable one, but luckily, 
 if we are to judge by the numbers to be found 
 in such places on that day, such men are few 
 and farbetween. A place, which byreason of the 
 numbers which frequent it, and the bustle and 
 activity which everywhere abound, is for the 
 six working days of the week gay and lively 
 enough — nay, even attractive — becomes on the 
 seventh day an abode of darkness and gloom : 
 the coffee-room resembles a cave of despair, 
 the smoking-room suggests strongly a chamber
 
 254 A Very Old Question. 
 
 of horrors. Without professing to understand 
 anything about hotel management, it may 
 safely be assumed that most of the waiters 
 and other attendants are allowed the privilege 
 of " Sunday out," and that the solitary in- 
 dividual who is usually to be found haunting 
 the coffee-room and beguiling the weary hours 
 by reading the Saturday's paper, only takes 
 his turn — turn and turn about — with his 
 fellows ; but be this as it may, he is usually, 
 in his appearance and bearing, so melancholy 
 that he alone would strike a chill to the heart 
 of any stray guest compelled to pass in an 
 hotel his Sabbath hours, and so strengthen 
 the opinion which he has already formed that 
 he is an intruder, and only served under com- 
 pulsion. The customers of the commercial 
 room are better off than the more aristocratic 
 frequenters of the coffee-room. The precincts 
 of that sacred chamber are to them as a home, 
 and within them they can be sociable and con- 
 vivial enough ; besides, they are usually on 
 good terms with the landlord and the members 
 of his family, call the " boots " and the cham- 
 bermaid by their Christian names, and address 
 the young lady at the bar, with tender in-
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 255 
 
 quiries after her health, as Miss So-and-So, 
 and in many other ways claim the right of 
 extraordinary attention. 
 
 Some very curious and interesting studies 
 are to be found in English hotel life. Mark 
 the guests as they come down to breakfast in 
 the morning. There is the strong-minded 
 man who takes care of himself, secures the 
 morning papers and the best table, cuts with 
 his own hand the best slices from the best 
 of the cold joints on the side-board, and is 
 for the most part independent of the waiters, 
 and for this very reason cordially hated by 
 them. There is the diffident young man, who 
 comes into the room nervously, regarding 
 guests and waiters alike with glances of a 
 conciliatory nature, modestly inquiring of 
 one of the latter, " what he can have" for 
 breakfast, and ordering the most expensive 
 dishes, hoping thereby to win respect, and 
 reading with an air of the deepest interest a ' 
 paper a week old, while he waits for the same 
 and sees bolder men than himself served 
 before him. There is the hearty and genial 
 man, who comes into the room smiling, is 
 immediately on friendly terms with the
 
 256 A Very Old Question. 
 
 waiters, and talks to all who are already in 
 the room : this man gets served with alacrity, 
 and altogether is calculated to inspire both 
 envy and courage in the breast of the nervous. 
 There is the discontented, disagreeable man, 
 who sends back his coffee, complains of his 
 toast and growls over his chop. There are 
 innumerable types of men to be seen on any 
 morning in the week in any English hotel, 
 but of them there is now no more occasion to 
 speak, and we must return to our Sunday 
 evening and the Great Northern Hotel, 
 Blackhampton. 
 
 Bare and cheerless was the aspect of the 
 enormous coffee-room, and wholly comfortless 
 must it have been to the solitary guest who 
 occupied it. It was presumably for the sake 
 of economy that the gas was only lighted at 
 either end of the long room, leaving the 
 middle in comparative darkness. At the one 
 end, for the delectation of the guest, was a 
 table covered with the last week's papers and 
 with the usual stock of hotel literature of 
 directories and time-tables ; at the other was 
 a screen behind which a waiter nodded and 
 dozed, and would probably have slept but for
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 257 
 
 the restless and aggravating conduct of the 
 guest aforesaid, who, with melancholy mien, 
 continually paced with slow and measured 
 steps the whole length of the room. As he 
 walked thus, lost in thought, Godfrey North- 
 over looked sadly aged and worn. What 
 were his thoughts this Sunday night ? Did 
 he think of his early married life, of his 
 business anxieties, struggles and success ; of 
 the happy home which might have been his, 
 of his good intentions and his lamentable 
 failure ? Did he think of his dead and un- 
 complaining wife, and of what she might 
 now have been to him ? Did he think of his 
 daughter Gertrude, and of how her love for 
 Percy RockclifYe had somehow estranged her 
 from him ? Did he think of him, and wonder 
 whether it was his money or his child that he 
 most wanted ? Did he appreciate his present 
 ease, or long to be back at his old work and 
 struggles ? 
 
 " Vanity of vanities'' was probably the tune 
 to which Godfrey Northover's thoughts ran. 
 " Oh, to live my life over again with the ex- 
 perience of to-day" was the impossibility for 
 which his heart yearned. 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 A Very Old Question. 
 
 It was thus — pacing the long room to and 
 fro — that Hammond Rockcliffe found him. 
 Northover's face lit up with, for him, unwonted 
 pleasure when he saw him. 
 
 " [s it accident that brings you here to- 
 night V he asked ; " or can you in any way 
 have heard that I had come down here pur- 
 posely to see you ?" 
 
 " I saw your brother this afternoon/' said 
 Hammond, "and he told me : so I hastened 
 to find you out." 
 
 " It is very good of you. I should have 
 sought you to-morrow. Come and sit down 
 and let us talk together, and to-morrow, if 
 you will spare me an hour, I will tell you what 
 it is that I have to ask at your hands." 
 
 But Hammond's curiosity to learn some- 
 thing of Gertrude, her doings and her pro- 
 spects, was too strong to allow him to post- 
 pone talking of her, and so when they were 
 seated at one end of the room, and when the 
 sleepy waiter, whom the advent of a stranger 
 and the consequent probability of an order 
 had aroused into activity had hovered around 
 them for a few moments, ostensibly seized 
 with a sudden impulse to fold and re-arrange
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 259 
 
 all the newspapers in the room, receiving no 
 commands had betaken himself, disgusted and 
 more sleepy than before, to his retirement 
 behind the screen, he said : 
 
 " And is the news which I have heard con- 
 cerning Miss Gertrude true ?" 
 
 lt My brother Anthony was never gifted 
 with reticence of speech," said Northover, 
 slightly frowning. " I suppose you heard 
 from him " 
 
 " That she is engaged to my cousin," in- 
 terrupted Hammond, feeling it was easier 
 at present to say the word himself, than to 
 hear the fact pronounced by another. 
 
 " Your cousin Percy has professed an 
 ardent attachment for my child," continued 
 Northover, " and she assures me that she 
 reciprocates it. You must not mind if to 
 you I speak freely of my views concerning it. 
 It has come upon me rather suddenly." 
 
 " And you object to their engagement V 
 
 " No. Time was when I certainly should 
 have objected — when I should have argued 
 that they did not at present know nearly 
 enough of each other to take so important a 
 step ; when I should have expected him to 
 
 17—2
 
 260 A Very Old Question. 
 
 lay before me satisfactory statements concern- 
 ing his means, and his intentions as regards 
 my child in the event of my consenting to 
 give her to him for his wife. I have often 
 thought in days gone by of what under such 
 circumstances should be my line of action, and 
 have laid my plans accordingly. But those 
 days are not these days, my plans are plans 
 no more, nor is it for me, who have made so 
 wretched a failure of my own existence, to 
 attempt to form the career of others. When 
 she spoke to me, all I could say was — f my 
 child, God grant that you may be happy." 
 
 " And to him T 
 
 " I said little more to him, though indeed I 
 was strongly tempted to tell him that I 
 deemed him fortunate in having won so great 
 a treasure as Gertrude's heart." 
 
 11 1 hope he appreciated it," said Hammond, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " I hope he does," said Northover ; " though 
 it must be owned that there is about him, as 
 about most of the young men of the present 
 day, a lightness of speech and action which 
 makes it difficult to determine what his true 
 feelings may be. Now, you will think it
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 261 
 
 strange in me to question you as I am about 
 to do, but I feel to know you so weli — you 
 have proved yourself to be so true and staunch 
 a friend, that I do not hesitate to do so. 
 There is one thing that troubles me sorely. 
 You know what T am, and what my antece- 
 dents have been. You know the nature of 
 Gertrude's bringing up. Your family is a 
 high one. What reception will my daughter 
 have in it V 
 
 Hammond was on the point of asking, as 
 the best way of answering the question, 
 *' How much do you propose to give her on 
 her wedding-day V but he checked himself in 
 time, and said : 
 
 " Mr. Northover, my cousin Percy is a very 
 discreet young man, and would be very un- 
 willing to quarrel with his family, or to make 
 such a marriage as would cause them to look 
 on him coldly. Since he has asked your 
 daughter to be his wife, I think you may rest 
 assured that her reception as such will be all 
 that you could desire." 
 
 " You take a great load off my mind," said 
 Northover, " for, broken-spirited as I am, I 
 could not bear that my child should be
 
 262 A Very Old Question. 
 
 slighted or despised. Her proper reception 
 as your cousin's wife being assured, I have 
 no cause to withhold for one moment my 
 consent to her union with the man whom she 
 has chosen. Now to another matter. I do 
 not know how it is with people of your position 
 and station, but I have been a business man 
 and cling to some of my old business ways. 
 My daughter will not be a penniless bride, 
 and though her husband's family may smile at 
 such mere detail, I shall choose to dower her 
 on her wedding-day." 
 
 " They will quite understand you/' re- 
 marked Hammond. " On that score you need 
 have no fear. 5 ' 
 
 " And concerning this same dowry," con- 
 tinued Northover, " I mean once more to be 
 a business man, and even should I be blamed, 
 I must on this point have my own way. I 
 mean to settle it absolutely on her." 
 
 " In that you are quite right," said Ham- 
 mond, heartily. 
 
 " I am glad that you think so. From all 
 points of view it seems to be the right course. 
 It takes away from the husband much anxiety 
 concerning his wife's prospects, should he
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust. 263 
 
 leave her a widow. It takes away from his 
 family any sensitive feeling as to any hints 
 which idle gossips may drop that it is for 
 money that he is marrying. And — and " 
 
 " And you like to do as you like with your 
 own money," said Hammond. 
 
 "Well, yes. I do not know that I need 
 offer any further explanation than that." 
 
 " I do not see that any explanation as to 
 what your motives may be could possibly be 
 expected of you," said Hammond. 
 
 " To the world at large, no," replied North- 
 over ; " to yourself, yes, as you will shortly 
 see. You are, of course, aware that when a 
 settlement such as I propose to make is con- 
 templated, the money is vested in the hands 
 of trustees V 
 
 Hammond, with a motion of his head, sig- 
 nified that he understood this to be the case. 
 
 " And I am going to ask you to be one of 
 Gertrude's trustees." 
 
 " In asking me," said Hammond, " of course 
 you compliment me, and for that I thank you ; 
 but pardon me if I marvel that a man of your 
 business capacity should make so great a mis- 
 take as to select for such a purpose a man
 
 264 A Very Old Question. 
 
 like myself — ignorant of almost all the details 
 of which business is composed." 
 
 " I make no mistake," said Northover 
 earnestly; " I select you because, before all other 
 men in the world, I trust you. I have watched 
 you closely, Hammond RockclirTe, and I know 
 your character. Manly, honest, and high- 
 minded, you are worthy the trust of any man — 
 of the confidence of any woman. Would to 
 God I were going to confide Gertrude herself, 
 as well as her money, to your care. I thought 
 once that you cared for her, and that it might 
 be so ; but though in that I was mistaken, I 
 know that you have a tender regard for my 
 girl, and you must not refuse my request. 
 The other trustee will, of course, be her hus- 
 band. I could not omit him, for if I can 
 trust him with my dear daughter, surely I can 
 trust him with her money. There will really 
 be little or nothing for you to do. I shall my- 
 self make all the arrangements, and will take 
 care that you are properly protected. Who 
 so suitable for the trust as you ? Gertrude 
 thinks as highly of you, and feels as warmly 
 towards you, as I do. Your near relationship 
 with her husband will bring you into close
 
 Hammond undertakes a Trust 265 
 
 and continual intercourse with her, and you 
 can never know the comfort that it will be to 
 me to think that, when I am dead and gone, 
 her interests are being cared for, and she is 
 being watched over by one whom I know so 
 well will be true as steel to any trust which 
 he may undertake/' 
 
 It was impossible for Hammond to listen 
 unmoved to this appeal. The knowledge of 
 Northover s trust and faith in him now 
 for the first time revealed ; the wish to which 
 he had given utterance that he had been 
 Gertrude's bridegroom elect ,* the thought 
 that if he accepted this trust he would natu- 
 rally be brought into close and frequent 
 contact with Gertrude as Percy's wife, and 
 become in a measure a guardian to her ; the 
 idea which involuntarily occurred to him that 
 some day the poor girl might stand sadly in 
 need of such a guardian : all these things im- 
 pressed him deeply, and he was silent for a 
 time, letting them have full play in his mind. 
 At length he said — 
 
 " Mr. Northover, since you wish it, I accept 
 the trust. There is my hand on it." 
 
 u God bless you," said Northover, grasping
 
 266 A Very Old Question. 
 
 the hand offered to him. " I know I could 
 not trust a better man. And now to detail. 
 The sum I shall settle upon Gertrude on her 
 wedding-day is fifty thousand pounds." 
 
 " Why, that is nearly all your fortune," 
 exclaimed Hammond. 
 
 " To whom else should I give it V said 
 Northover sadly. " I shall keep quite suffi- 
 cient for myself. But I have no right to 
 trouble you further in these matters to-night. 
 To-morrow, if you will give me an hour, I will 
 tell you all my plans." 
 
 " Fifty thousand pounds !" said Hammond 
 to himself, as, an hour later, he walked slowly 
 to his lodging. " Fifty thousand reasons why 
 Percy should marry her — fifty thousand bar- 
 riers between her and me. Poor Northover 
 but half likes this marriage ; he shows that 
 plainly, and evidently knows something of 
 Percy's nature. I wonder whether I have done 
 right in accepting this trust ? I wonder how it 
 may affect Gertrude and me in the future V 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.