."^^v^^. :^^^"1v .x::<.<^<'X C >C etc CCCC-^ LI E) RARY OF THE U N IVE.RSITY or ILLINOIS Ecl9\f v.l LISABEE'S LOYE STORY. BY THE AUTHOR OP "JOHN AND I," "DOCTOR JACOB," &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HUEST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHEES, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1865. The right of Translation is reseroed. lONDOK : SAriLt IKD EDWAEDS, PRINTKBS, CfLAJTDOB 8TBEX1, COTBITT GABDEK. '^ -$ vr- 2 A3 BOOK I. WILLIAM PLUMTREE'S LITTLE LADY. " O zarte Sehnsucht, siiszes HoflFen, Der ersten Liebe goldne Zeit !" SCHILLES. VOL. I. B CHAPTER I. TN tlie pleasant corn-country of eastern England stands a fine old farmhouse, with ornamental porch and gables, high chimneys, walls of a thickness quite won- derful in these days, and a general look of rubicund well-to-do importance. It has a sweep of water to the right, farm buildings and an orchard to the left, a gay, straggling garden in front, and corn-fields around. At a first glance, one would imagine this old homestead to be a particularly pros- perous and happy place ; one would envy childhood spent there, and the delight of reading " Paul and Virginia " under such B 2 4 LIbABEE's LOVE-STORY. walnut-trees. Yet never was a child more at war with the world than the little crea- ture possessing these privileges on a certain summer day some years ago. She sat in a large playroom overlooking the strawberry- beds, a little, desperate girl, looking at nothing, sighing every now and then, too sad even for tears. The blinds were drawn, for death was in the house, yet that was a natural grief and could have been borne. The child had loved her mother tenderly, perhaps better than anything in the world ; but the loss of her had come slowly and with due warning, a solemn, sorrowful lesson of suffering, taught line upon line and pre- cept upon precept, to the too young pupil. In time past she had read much of the New Testament to this gentle parent ; she was witness of the strength and consolation LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. thereby imparted ; she knew that her terrible bodily agonies were over at last, and she would not be selfish enough to wish her back. So far our little one's trials were natural, not heart-breaking, and have been felt by many children perhaps as sensitive. It was another care that weighed on her young heart like cold lead, fettered her free spirit with thorns, bruised her, trampled on her, hemmed her in on every side, turned her whole nature to bitterness and despair. Her soliloquy ran in this wise : — "Why are little girls burdens to their parents, and why does Aunt Mercy pity papa so much ? I couldn^t help being born, she was born herself and couldn't help that either ; but perhaps she wasn't a burden ! It is strange that children in story-books are 6 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. never called burdens. I suppose the word is of Aunt Mercy's invention. I wish I were grown up and could keep a school. I wish Mamma had taken me to Heaven with her. I wish I were nobody at all !'' This last thought led the little girl into some reflections not to be found in Locke's Essay, yet worthy of philosophical conside- ration. The upshot of all lay in the fol- lowing inquiry — Being somebody, why was she forced into unhappiness by another somebody? Why was she the victim of prejudice, a word which she had never heard, but understood intuitively? Her speculations were cut short by the entrance of an elderly, somewhat old- fashioned-looking lady in black. Her face was not wholly wanting in benevolence, though unfortunately it was that benevo- LISABEES LOVE-STORY. 7 lence of which the world is sadly unappre- ciative, being the benevolence that gives prudential advice in season and out of season ; that expresses plainly and with many good wishes individual belief in the wholesome precept — " God helps those who help themselves ;" that lets the young and the ardent into an early knowledge of life's so many pecuniary difficulties. To look at Miss Mercy Plumtree^s face was to read all the maxims of "Poor Richard" at a . glance ; or, if we may so far parody Madame de Stael, her features represented petrified Arithmetic, her eyes being the factors, her nose the denominator, and her mouth the product of a never-ending sum; indeed, there was not a tiny line in her face that did not look like an incarnate shilling, whilst the deeper furrows might stand for so 8 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. many hundreds of pounds, fought for and gained inch by inch, with loss of life-blood, and many other things held dear by most. She had a spare homely figure, and hands that were brown and coarse with household toil; but her hands need a word or two, they were so full of character. The fingers always bent inwards as if from the habit of so well serving their owner, and curled and coaxed each other in a peculiarly jocose and feeling way w^hen money, espe< cially gold, was in sight. We can't help thinking that half Miss Mercy's soul had somehow found its way to her fingers; they appeared too sympathetic for mere tools. " Greta," she said, standing still at the door of the large room and pitching her voice a little high, " Greta, would you like LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 9 to see your poor Ma once more in this world?" "What are they going to do with Mamma ?'' cried the little girl fiercely, for the idea of a coffin and the sound of a car- penter's hammer applied to the lid of it had not yet dawned upon her mind, as they ought never to dawn upon any child's mind. " Would you like to see your poor Ma?" repeated Miss Mercy ; " if you don't now . you never will again, for the coffin is going to be screwed down.'* Greta turned cold and sick. Either alternative seemed so terrible. The strong instinct of love prevailed over the terror of death, and she followed her aunt. People never write or talk of the dead without applying to them the usually re- 10 lisabee's love-story. ceived expression, " sweet, peaceful calm of feature," but in most cases habit has taken the place of truth. Calm there must be where life and motion are not, but the calm of death, except in the case of the very young, is awful. The same soullessness of sightless eyes, of idiocy, of somnambulism, appals us here, and with double force ; there is moreover greater difference than we had looked for between the living face and the dead one. We feel for the first time how utterly our relations with the loved are changed; how utterly the humanity of our affection, with all its sweet and daily inter- courses, is dead too ; how no heaven, even with its perfected existence and golden cycles of Time, can ever restore that kind of affection to us, imperfect, liable to change, all too mortal as it may have been. lisabee's love-story. 11 And this was the substance of the little one's thoughts — '^ Mamma will never, never want me to read the Psalms to her again; even if I were to die directly and go to Heaven, things would be different — we shouldn't sit in this room together, and Mamma couldn't tell me of her school- days; and, ah! me, I have brushed her beautiful hair for the last, last time !" She did not weep. The immobility, almost sternness, of the lovely face awed her too much; and the coffin, the shroud, the flowers half-falling from the dead hand, all symboUed something of the new strange phase of her mother's being. With a great sob rising in her throat, she stood still, her whole incapable childish mind intent upon that riddle which makes life so sad and so sacred. Miss Mercy had been crying all 12 lisabee's love-story. the while, and now put down her hand- kerchief with a little sniff, her usual way of saying Amen to all acts of a melan- choly nature. Then she turned to the un- obtrusive little mourner by her side, and said, in a voice that was meant to imply sympathy — " Yes, Ingaretha, your poor Ma is gone, and a happy release it is, as anyone must think who saw her such a sufferer, and building so upon a better world. Of course you're very sorry for her ; but it is a happy release, and your poor Pa will get on his legs a little now, though the funeral, of course, will be an expense, for as she was a lady, he wishes her to have a bricked grave, and six bearers, and wine all round. Such a thoughtful man is poor William — such a Pa ! though I daresay you and your lisabee's love-story. 13 sisters wouldn't have cried so much had you lost him instead of your Ma." She stopped short, an unspeakable look in the child's eyes reminding her of the gentle, albeit strong-willed sister-in-law who lay in death's garments there. In a softer voice she added — " But you'll all be good girls to your Pa, won't you, dear, and try and save him as much as you can, especially in sugar and shoe leather — which will wear out sur- , prising. And you'll do your best to learn housework, and dairy- work, and such-like; for though your Ma wished you all to be ladies, she hadn't the means, you know; and now she's gone, poor thing, it won't fret her to see you making yourselves useful, as I and your Aunt Martha have done all our lives long, which, if we hadn't, 14 lisabee's love-story. where should we be now? Your poor Pa couldn't keep us, I'm sure; and brother Samuel couldn't, with his nine children; and Richard couldn't, only that we keep his house, and save him sights of shil- lings and sixpences by our management, and " How long this preachment might have lasted we cannot tell; but on a sudden. Miss Mercy heard surreptitious steps in the pantry below, and hastened to see whose they might be. True, she had locked up everything but the bread, yet to her a sus- picious look at the butter through the wire covering of the safe was not to be thought of without an uneasy thrill of alarm. So she hastened towards the door. Little heart-sick, soul-sick Greta followed her. lisabee's love-story. 15 "Aunt Mercy," she said, "are Cissy, and Lisabee, and Mabel coming home from school?" " Coming home from school ? I should think so, indeed ! Your Pa has had enough of schooling, I'm sure, to ruin any farmer of heavy land at a high rent these times !" Then she hastened downstairs, and the child returned to her empty play-room, a little less desponding in mood than she had left it. The ineffaceable, dread image of , Death, and a hundred newly-awakened ap- prehensions filled her mind ; but her sisters were coming home from school — she should not be alone any longer ! 16 CHAPTER II. WILLIAM PLUMTREE, of Sycamore Farm, in the eastern corn-country, did a bold thing in his youth, to remain a coward ever after. No innovator ofporcus Trojanus^ or any other luxurious dish in the severest Roman times, was half so daring as himself, when, twenty years ago, he took Elgitha Pierrepoint for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, she being sixth daughter of the Reverend Francis Pierrepoint, whose family had come in with the Conqueror, and had managed to keep up a show of good breed- ing ever since, though their more substantial patent of aristocracy — namely, houses and LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 17 lands — vanished, nobody knew why or when, into, as Carlyle says, " Cimmerian darkness." Now, the gulf between Sybarite and Spartan, between Spurgeon and the Arch- bishop of Canterbury, between Times and Telegraphy is as a water- furrow to the Aver- nus dividing Pierrepoint from Plumtree. Pierrepoint represented to the Plumtree eye so many money-spending, free and easy, six feet two in height, roystering, white- handed, well-mannered men, and so many — a great many — tall, proud, book-learned, and dignified women. You might as well have tried to find a careful, well-to-do Pierrepoint as an extravagant Plumtree ; a Pierrepoint who had not impoverished himself by all sorts of imprudent generosi- ties, or a Plumtree who had ever given any- VOL. I. C 18 lisabee's love-story. thing more expensive than advice. Again, the Pierrepoints were free livers, had warm blood, and liked to make it warmer; while the Plumtrees rejoiced in nothing so much as in small economies of diet, and hadn't a superabundant pound of flesh among them. The Pierrepoints fattened and grew happy to see money going out — the Plumtrees grew leaner but ecstatic to see money come in. Both families were good church-people, but the Pierrepoints always came late, stumbled over hassocks, fidgeted if the sermon exceeded half an hour, and tossed a sovereign into the missionary plate ; whilst the Plumtrees opened their books as the clergyman emerged from the vestry, pro- vided themselves with fourpenny-pieces in case of a collection, and made up for want of liberality by excess of good meaning. lisabee's love-story. 19 Then the Pierrepoints were sure to change their occupations as often as once a year, while the Plumtrees had been farmers, every man and woman of them, from time immemorial. You couldn't name a busi- ness or profession that one of the late hand- some Pierrepoint brothers had not tried, made money in, borrowed in, lost in, and given up; and though the sisters carried themselves like queens, and spoke French, painted, wrote verses, and played the Battle of Prague not one could do up a pat of butter, or make a dumpling, for the life of them. No wonder, therefore, that William's mar- riage with so gently born and gracious a lady was an ill-starred one in the eyes of his affec- tionate family. No wonder that poor Elgitha had difficulty in warding off alike undue c 2 20 lisabee's love-story. interference and undue pity. But she had a quiet sweetness about her when pleased, and an icy disdain when offended, that effec- tually established and maintained her posi- tion as William's wife and mistress. She ruled his homely household with the dignity of a duchess, gave her little family of daughters sounding names from the Pierre- point pedigree, and resolved to rear them to the Pierrepoint standard of gentlewomanli- ness ; long, however, before she lay down on the bed of sickness which was to be the bed of death, several little graves were green in the parish churchyard. When she died, only loth for her little ones' sake, the num- ber of the dead equalled that of the living. We shall see her widower under happier aspects by-and-by, but the adverse turn of family affairs added fresh bitterness to his lisabee's love-story. 21 loss, and between both troubles he was utterly overwhelmed. Moreover, the tide of brotherly and sisterly sympathy that set in on all sides as soon as Elgitha died would alone have sufficed to crush an ordinary spirit. There is a vulgar aphorism about pity which wiU hold true as long as the world stands; and it is likely that if the victims of unkindness and the victims of pity could be statistically numbered, the latter would outweigh the former. We know many worthy souls who would deem it impious to speak of a deceased friend without the adjective poor added, and yet these same believe the individual mentioned extremely fortunate in having quitted a world so troublesome! We wonder such people do not say of the arch-fiend, because he is scouted and huffed by all respectable 22 lisabee's love-story. members of society, " Poor creature, he lias a bad time of it, to be sure !" So just when a judicious rating might have steadied William Plumtree's mind, he obtained a chorus of moans instead, and under the influence of them felt very help- less indeed. From being constantly told that ruin hung over him, he grew to be- lieve it; from hearing twenty times a day that his young daughters were a burden, he believed that also; finally, every one com- miserated him as the most unfortunate of beings, till he became so. All the happy influences of Elgitha's superior nature being withdrawn, he fell heart-deep into a very Slough of Despond, out of which we hope some good evangelist will duly draw him. On the eve of Elgitha's funeral, a shabby lisabee's love-story. 23 gig stopped at the back gate of Sycamore Farm, and Miss Mercy's coadjutors in the comforting business, namely, Martha and Kichard Plumtree, her unmarried sister and brother, alighted therefrom. The greet- ing was, as usual, a frosty one, for the family, though living on excellent terms (except when a little legacy happened to come in the way as an apple of discord), were extremely undemonstrative. Richard was a stout, slefepy-eyed bachelor, always being caught on the hook of matrimony by some designing widow, and dexterously hauled to safety again by his ever- wakeful sisters. It would fill a volume to describe how many times he had been deluded by some pretty bait, tasted it, bitten it, then by the kind hands of his guardian angels, been borne from sweet 24 lisabee's love-story. destruction to the cold waters of safety. Often and often had the poor man ridden home to his dull dwelling, full of brave resolutions to stand his ground against these gloomy Hesperides, and have a buxom Mrs. Richard in their place. But when he had taken off his great-coat, entered the awful presence, and thrown out a few stray shots, down came the arguments of the two women like a charge of artillery, and he would drop his colours and scamper away as if for dear life. He was kind-hearted, gave Greta and her sisters an occasional sixpence, with a whispered " Don't tell your Aunt Mercy," and let them steal farthings openly out of his waistcoat pocket. Aunt Martha was the sharpest of the family, the smallest, the most generous, and yet the least estimable. She had been lisabee's love-story. 25 better educated than tlie others, knew where Pekin was, and could spell well — a great accomplishment in Plumtree eyes; more- over, she prided herself upon a little gen- tility, and had read " Clarissa Harlowe," and " Kasselas/^ After tea came a preliminary skirmish of condolences, but in half an hour's time Greta was sent into the garden. Hot brandy-and-water appeared, and the busi- ness of the evening began. " I was in the mind to come to see how you were getting on, William," said Richard, smacking his lips as if his words were no less agreeable than the brandy-and-water, " and so had Martha. Of course, we think about you a good deal in these bad times, and with a burdensome young family; and poor Elgitha's long illness " 26 lisabee's love-story. " Ah, poor dear," chimed in Mercy. " that was a happy release, surely. It is a great loss to you, William, and a great trial sent by the Lord ; but if she had been spared much longer, what with nurses and doctors — and corn at a guinea a coomb — and four little gals to be eddicated like their Ma, you couldn't have stood it, William — no man could." " You couldn't," said Martha, '^for poor Elgitha didn't understand a farmhouse — as how should she?' William here put in deprecatingly — "It was Elgitha's wish that the little girls should be brought up off the com- mon," he said, trying to recollect all the arguments Elgitha had used to him; "cows and dairying don't pay now, and girls can always go out as governesses if they've had eddication." LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 27 "That's true," Ricliard remarked, in a mediating way; " and the little ladies might go out as half-boarders, as their elder sisters did." " But half-boarders must be well dressed and well shod," said Mercy; "much better than if they stayed at home, where they could do a sort of jobs already, and help their Pa by saving the schooling." "Ah! that's what they must think of," said Martha. " They must think of their * poor Pa ; and a better I'm sure never was, though children always take so to their Ma." The bitter words brought other and better meaning to the widower's heart. He re- pressed his emotion, however, and was silent. Richard, according to instructions, now led the way to the business of the sit- ting. He felt sure that he should say 28 LISABEES LOVE-STORY. exactly the wrong thing, but his own com- fort was concerned, and he struck boldly out to sea. "Well, WiUiam," he said, ''1 don't see any other way for you to wriggle through these difficulties but to have Mercy live with you as she did before you married. Of course, Pm not going to say that this is her wish, for I mention it unbeknown and off-hand like, and am only thinking of your bad circumstances ; and how if Mercy looked to the cows and the maids, you might perhaps make ends meet." He stopped short, and dived his head spasmodically into his glass, for Miss Mercy's look said plainly enough, " Hold your tongue ;" it moreover implied to Wil- liam's that such a proposal was quite foreign lisabee's love-story. 29 to her own wishes. With an air of offended dignity she began — " Of course, William, you can't think that I want to leave Richard's, where we live so happy together, and Martha can get up early if I'm laid up with my liver, and there are no children. But, thank God! I've saved up a little money; and rather than see you go to the workhouse, you shall have it, signing all the bonds first, and paying five per cent. I know • there is a risk in personal securities, but families must help each other ; and if ever a man wanted help you do now, with two mares dying in one year, and servants eating you out of house and home, and four little gals without a Ma, — not to speak of the drop in pork. All I can say is, I'm willin', if you're willin'; 30 lisabee's love-story. but I don't want to go where I'm not wanted.'' Just then, breaking the monotony of the dreary words hke a silver trumpet sound- ing across a torpid sea, and flashing fresh- ness and loveliness and the sweet, uncon- scious ignorance of childhood into the all too sordid picture, came an indistinct warble of young voices, a sudden vision of lightsome forms; and then three half-sad, half-joy fal faces were gathered to the widower's breast. The aspect of the visitors changed imme- diately. Richard turned red, sipped his brandy-and-water, cried a little at the chil- dren's emotion, and looked utterly out of place. Mercy's eyes glanced furtively first at the carpet and then at the little girls' shoes, to see if mischief had been done in lisabee's love-story. 31 the way of dust or mud. Martha twirled her fingers, and said, ceremoniously — "How d'ye do — how d'ye do, Cecilia? How d'ye do, Lisabee ? So you've come home from school, are you? Is Miss Wrett quite well?" Cissy, the eldest of the three girls, came quietly forward, wiped away her tears, and answered Miss Martha in her own manner, distant, respectful, and unsympathetic. But Lisabee, the youngest of William . Plumtree's children, and the one who was considered the most of a Pierrepoint, after a violent fit of sobbing, began taking off her hat and cloak unceremoniously, and finally touched the bell with a cool — "We do so want tea, papa, for to-day was cold-meat dinner at school. Greta can have it again with us, can't she ?" 32 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. One of the happiest elements of childhood is its unconsciousness of evil. If ever we wished ourselves children again, it would be for this. To ignore thoughts which in advanced life are read at sight despite the smooth brow and smiling lip — to be igno- rant of the petty motives prompting the gracious tongue — to live without suspicion of false assent or deceitful contradiction — in such a world, what wonder children are brave, and outspoken, and free ? And how cowardly men and women are to each other! Whose face is not at some time masked even to the eyes of the beloved ? Would the world cease to turn on its axis if we were true? It seems so. '^ A mix- ture of a lie doth ever add pleasure," says the philosopher. '^ Light, more light,'' is better said by the poet. Tis a humiliating lisabee's love-story. 33 and pregnant fact, that the simplest of us are ever learning new ways of dissimula- tion, and the more we know the richer we are in many things held agreeable. Little, imperious Elizabeth, or Lisabee as she was usually called, stood with her hand on the bell-rope ready to give orders, wholly ignorant that she was nothing more nor less than a sore burden inflicted upon her father, and that as penance for the privilege of being born, she must consider herself an incumbrance henceforth and for ever, never eating except at mealtimes, and then with due regard to economy. Aunt Mercy was the only one of these self-appointed adjudicators daring enough to stop such budding audacity. " The maids are milking, and tea is over, my dear," she said, mildly, " so you had VOL. I. D 34 lisabee's love-story. better have some bread and milk in the pantry ; or there is some nice cream cheese which wants eatin'." Lisabee opened her large, protesting eyes, gazed Aunt Mercy out of countenance, and then turned to her father, saying — " Papa, are we not to have any tea?" Poor William forbore to look at his sisters, but murmured some words of excuse for the child's request, fumbled in the key -basket for the safe key, and finally followed his little ones out of the room. "You won't mind having tea in the pantry, will you, dears ?" he said, apologeti- cally. " Susan can get the things for you, only you mustn't tell your aunt that you took her from milking; and here's poor little Greta, so glad you're home from lisabee's love-story. 35 school; and oh, don't cry, don't cry; dear Mamma's gone to Heaven, and won't suffer any more pain." For the four children, who loved each other as few sisters do, fell into each other's arms around their fond, helpless parent, and cried as if their little hearts would break. The widower had a great deal of the woman in him, had often soothed his babies when Elgitha slept, worn out, beside him, and now soothed them in much the same way, with poor, tender, foolish little promises of impossible happinesses, and with wonderfully assumed cheerfulness as to the future ; — lastly, with tea and thin bread-and-butter. For childhood's sorrows, childhood breaks its heart — ^but childhood eats. Seated on the low window-sill of the pantry, making D 2 36 lisabee's love-story. a table of their knees, and only casting furtive glances at the good things which, for the life of him, William Plumtree dared not bring out from the safe, the four chil- dren dried their tears, hovered for a short time over their sorrow, like young doves who feel in duty bound to stay by the dovecote, but at length, little by little, flew straight away into happy regions of school-life, school-loves, and school-griev- ances. Greta gradually forgot the yester- day, with all its never-to-be-spoken agony, in the contemplation of Cissy's present of book-markers and paints; and Lisabee was drawing a smile from the widower by an imitation of Miss Wrett, as she appeared on the morning of Valentine's Day, the young ladies having sent her an amatory copy of verses supposed to come from the LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 37 drawing-master, who kissed Miss Wrett's hftnd whenever she invited him to dinner, and always called the boiled beef and treacle pudding " the feast of reason and the flow of soul ;" and once had been heard to call her Georgina by the cook, who knelt nearest to the drawing-room folding- doors, when the French governess read the prayers, and Miss Wrett entertained him alone to supper. But on a sudden the children became dumb, and the widower remembered his miseries, for a solemn voice was heard at the door, and it said — " DonH give 'em the funeral cake r 38 CHAPTER III. nnHE Plumtrees prided themselves upon their funerals. A price which would have appeared ruinous at other times was given cheerfully for black gloves ; a certain degree of fineness in the crape was con- sidered a point of honour never j to be forfeited ; a liberal quality and quantity of viands seemed a hereditary law of the family. Then there was always a respect- able show of outward and inward mourning on the part of the visitors, a punctual rais- ing of white handkerchiefs when the clergy- man began to read, and an unfailing sob when the open grave was reached. But, lisabee's love-story. 39 extraordinary to say, no sooner had undertaker and sexton been left behind, blinds drawn up and the cold collation spread out, than everyone imagined himself privileged to appear moderately cheerful, to whisper a surreptitious story to his neighbour, to smile behind his hand, finally, to eat and drink as if on ordinary occasions. Not to be invited to a funeral would give an offence unparalleled in Plumtree annals. Accordingly, five or six gigs arrived at Sycamore Farm on the morning of Elgitha's funeral, containing brothers, sisters, and cousins of the widower, all of whom wore the family funeral look, all of whom brought two pocket-handkerchiefs — one very white and smooth for the cere- mony, one crumpled and of cotton for com- 40 lisabee's love-story. fort, — and all of whom tuned their voices to the exact funeral pitch as they came in sight of the house. At first, it seemed as if Elgitha's own family would not be repre- sented at all, a conclusion extremely grati- fying to Mercy, for she dreaded the Pierre- point facility in wine-drinking. But just as the visitors were taking sherry and cake in the parlour, and the children were ready dressed and weeping together in the play- room, a hired chaise dashed through the orchard gate, a tall, dusty, albeit kingly- looking man alighted, and Richard cried, aghast — ''Upon my soul, it's Captain Mark!" The stranger made his way through the hall, bowed his head reverently before the dead body that awaited its final resting- place there, opened the parlour door with- lisabee's love-story. 41 out ceremony, and laid his hand on William's shoulder. " Well," he said, '' I only reached London last night from Bombay, and I must pay my last duty to poor Elgitha. You will give me ten minutes in which to shave, wash and change my clothes after the dusty coach journey?" William looked at the solemn faces around him and shook his head. " The parson will be waiting," he whis- pered. "Damn the parson,*' returned the cap- tain; "what's his waiting in comparison to poor dear Elgitha going to her grave and not a brother as mourner?" He ran his sharp, beautiful eyes over the assembly, bowed to those he knew, helped himself to a glass of wine, and then left the 42 lisabee's love-story. room hastily to make his toilet. At the end of twenty minutes he descended the staircase in the most leisurely manner, look- ing as well as six feet three inches of height, combined with forty summers, naval dress, and an easy carriage, would allow. In the hall he met the children, and an angry remonstrance rose to his lips. Catching Mercy by the sleeve, he said, earnestly — "My dear," — Captain Mark called all women thus who were connected -with his family — " these poor little women have no business with funerals, damn it, they haven't." " It wouldn't look well if they didn't follow," answered Mercy; "it's a duty owed to their poor Ma." " Stuif, my dear; there ought to be a law a<]:ainst such thin^^s. But there is no LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 43 help for it now ; take my arm, as I see poor William moving off. Good Heaven ! I car- ried Elly on my back when she was just such a pretty, mischievous chit as little Lisabee ; and now she's had a large family and a world of trouble, and has gone home. William may well fret, for a finer woman and a better wife no fellow had; and if ever anyone deserves the good place, she does, God bless her!" Captain Mark's religious views were a subject of mysterious awe to Miss Mercy. He meant well, no doubt, but he had such strange ways of speaking about Moses and David, and expounded their histories with such eccentric commentaries that the Plum- tree family regarded him in the light of a concentrated living " Essays and Reviews" or " Pentateuch Explained." Moreover, he 44 lisabee's love-story. quoted " Hone's Parodies," and " Taylor's Exegesis," and would call the village rector Old Blowhard ; not to mention other and more daring radicalisms. But he was so jovial, told such impudent stories, and looked such a lord among them all, that the Plumtree men delighted in his company, whilst the women enjoyed it as much as they could enjoy anything that brought no money into their pockets. Martha for- gave him even his bumpers of wine and inordinate capacity for beer — for, on a certain evening, years ago, he had put his arm around her waist, had sworn her eyes to be worth looking at, had finally sealed his half-tipsy words with a kiss. That kiss formed the Alpha and Omega of Miss Martha's intercourse with the Cyprian god- dess ; and as chemistry teaches us, an ordi- lisabee's love-story. 45 nary fluid will be tinted with ruby colour if only a half-million th proportion of gold is added, so to her dull life this circum- stance imparted a faint shade of the purple light of love, never to disappear. Meantime, the dark procession passed down the lily-bordered garden path, along the dusty road, and into the green church- yard, where the villagers stood, curious and sympathetic. And the clergyman read the solemn ser- vice, and the clerk said " Amen," and the mourners stood around with white hand- kerchiefs, on duty, conscious that their cloth and crape could bear inspection, and the gravel rattled on the coffin-lid, sending a strange chill to the hearts of the mother- less children. In after-life they wished that this funeral had been made beautiful 46 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. by such music as one hears in Catholic churches, or such chaplets as are heaped upon the grave of a Lutheran God's-acre. Here nothing made death promising or peaceful to their young imaginations, but a gloomy image took possession of them, ineffaceable and never to be spoken. And they were motherless. God! are there no special angels who watch over motherless children? Is it possible that a woman born of woman can lack tenderness to a child who has no mother? Can words describe that joyful completion, a mother's love, that great nakedness — motherlessness? A French poet has called this love " Pain merveilleux qu\m Dieu partage et muItijMe.^' Might it not also be likened to the Star in the East, the heaven of the poor, the gospel of the ignorant ? 47 CHAPTER IV. rtAPTAIN MARK'S visit altered the destiny of William Plumtree's little daughters. The matter happened in this wise. When the jovial officer heard of Miss Mercy's prudent plans for the welfare of his brother- in-law, he fell into a violent rage, swore by all the heathen gods in succession, a form of oath that frightened the Plumtrees ter- ribly, that his nieces should not touch a milk-pail for a hundred aants or uncles either, scolded William into quite a courageous mood, finally calmed down, and flattered Mercy and Martha into be- 48 lisabee's love-story. lieving that a little music and dancing for the girls would prove economy after all, since, at the age of fifteen, each should be sent out to Bombay and married forthwith. So the sisters were not made milkmaids, but grew up to be gentlewomen, with just enough character in them to make heroines of — ordinary heroines, mind, such as one knows and sees in real life — not tragedy queens who own neither to love, nor law, nor feminine nature. Natural philosophers say, " Give us so many causes, and we will give you the effects." Poets sing, " Heaven lies around us in our infancy," and *' The boy is father to the man." A great living thinker goes farther, and suggests, that by unremitting watchfulness and training, a child's mind lisabee's love-story. 49 might be coloured like an outlined drawing, just to our own fancy. Experience says there is no rule in the case. Our best men and women are often growths of an unhealthy moral climate; and the gold of fine nature is embedded in sordid soils. Perfections of character are Christ's later miracles, and blossom, like Aaron's rod, in unexpected times and places. These motherless children grew up into no perfections; they grew to be women, mere women in the real sense of the word, which was much, considering the Plumtree atmosphere. And in calling them women do we not infer all that is most dear, and charming, and loveable to the heart of a man ? Is not tenderness womanly ? is not weakness womanly ? are not simplicity and confidingness, and such sweetEve-like imper- VOL. I. E 50 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. fcctions, womanly ? We feel it our bounden duty to rejoice that the extra half-million of Englishwomen are casting themselves into the crucible of circumstance, to come out armed for man's work and man's wages in the world. And we quite think with Stuart Mill that women will stand on a level line with men one day; that "girl graduates with golden hair" will throng the gloomy courts of jurisprudence; that slim Penthesileas will lead on the charge against our foes as yet unborn ; that one out of ten prime ministers, at least, will be a lady. But we do hope the time is not quite close at hand, that it won't come till we're ninety- nine, at least. We are so selfish as to be satisfied with things as they are, always however ofi*ering best wishes and help to the half-million. ltsabee's love-story. 51 But what sun shone on little Lisabee and her sisters? What air did they breathe? Who were their schools and schoolmasters? We are inclined to think that the naturalist who set woman down as a higher kind of animal grounded so unpolite an hypothesis upon a very flattering conviction. He thought women had instinct. And so they have; an instinct that lifts them infinitely above the other sex, that keeps them women always, that leads them like plants to the sun, the pure air of Heaven, the imbibing of wholesome gases, the rejection of bad ones. They were to be ladies — that was an un- derstood thing — and to have a good educa- tion. Good Heavens! what did Aunt Mercy call education? The poor children often wondered if being left to themselves constituted education; they had no other E 2 U^JVERSITY OF IIU»0» 52 lisabee's love-story. except French lessons once a week from a young lady living in the next town, and who called herself a Parisian on the strength of having passed a night at Calais, and music lessons from another young lady who didn't know what a semitone meant, and taught them The Devil on Two Sticks and Rori/ O'More as classical subjects. Ah, we forgot; the library of the Wilby Mechanics' Institute was subscribed to at the yearly expense of half a guinea, and the butter-woman brought home a basket- ful of well-worn books every market-day, these same books proving the dearest and best friends of the little neglected girls. Aunt Mercy had read little beyond " Reli- gious Courtship" and "The Life of the Princess Charlotte," and William's literary tutelage under Elgitha had slackened of late lisabee's love-story. 53 years, so they were at liberty to choose for themselves. "RoUin's Ancient History," " Don Quixote," Miss Martineau's political works, Shakespeare — all these came in the butter-basket, and were read as only motherless children can read — hungrily, lovingly, thankfully. It must be admitted that Miss Mercy really and truly left the children to them- selves. Indeed, she lacked courage openly to correct Elgitha's daughters, even praised their industry and loved them after her fashion, making it a point of honour to lay all their faults to poor William. " Your Pa has made his bed," she would say, " and he must lie on it. If I were to do my duty by you he'd take on, and ladies without means are not in my way, as they ought never to have been in his." 54 lisabee's love-story. There were little golden bits of sun seen now and then even in this wintry morning, this clouded east. Humanity is a daisy that shines everywhere, and the children had a few friends in whose presence they forgot that they were burdens. Foremost among these was a childless Baptist minister and his wife, who lived close by, and kindly asked the little women to tea sometimes, giving them a profusion of tarts, tracts, and prayers to end all. The Rev. Albert Eaven was the mildest, milkiest, and mousiest of men, certainly not weighing more than ten stone, and yet keeping the burly, broad-shouldered giant of a rector in such mortal terror as never King of France was in terror of Pope Gregory VII. For sick people would have the Rev. Raven's prayers, and well people would LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 55 attend his preaching, and people in all stages of health would entertain a strong belief in his piety. He talked of the king- dom of heaven as if it were a tea-meet- ing to which he was especially invited; he smacked his lips, when discoursing of spiritual communion, as if he had just re- membered the taste of Mrs. Raven's mince pies or gooseberry wine ; and he asked after the health of your soul much as anyone else would inquire after your corns and rheumatism. Mrs. Raven was plump, ner- vous, and of a poetic temperament. Having no children, she devoted a portion of her time to the study of astronomy, Latin, and the composition of hymns. The latter oc- cupation she playfully styled '-waking her lyre," her most successful eiFusion having appeared under such a title in a sixpenny 56^ LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. Baptist serial. This being afterwards cut out, was placed circularly in a glass- stoppered pickle-bottle, and formed tbe delectation of the household and the wonder of the world in general as seen on the chimney-piece. Mrs. Kaven had a horror of draughts, and so had Mr. Raven. Every crannyand crevice of Jordan Villa was stopped up with cement or impermeables of some kind, and yet in ^vindy weather the worthy pair sat on op- posite sides of the fireplace, each holding up an umbrella for fear of taking cold. Next to their horror of draughts was their horror of blackbirds. Perhaps these same impudent black little dare-devils tormented the meek soul of the minister hardly less than the demons that of St. Dunstan. He loved currant tart, currant wine, and cur- rant jam, and shoot, scarecrow, fight with lisabee's love-story, 57 the blackbirds as he might, they boldly fattened upon the products of his garden. During the whole month of July Mr. Raven was subject to fits of melancholy, and when his spouse would say, with tender sympathy — " Is it the blackbirds, love?" He always answered, with a deep sigh — " Heaven's will be done. " The family consisted of a bed-ridden Miss Raven and her companion, a female servant answering to the name of Mahala, a brisk, rather hilarious old man who fulfilled the duties of groom, gardener, runner, carpenter, chimney-sweep, boots, brewer, and barber; a meditative cat who could not possibly have belonged to any less tranquil house- hold, and a pony who cantered with its fore- legs and trotted with its hind ones, and made 58 lisabee's love-story. its master believe it was as good a goer as any in tlie county. The bed-ridden Miss Raven was seen by her brother, sister-in-law, and companion, but by no one else, excepting on Whit Monday, when Mahala the servant, and Smy the groom, carried her downstairs in a wash-basket, that her apartment might undergo the process of scouring. The com- panion appeared hardly more in the world, never leaving the house except at twilight, and then as closely veiled as the Prophet of Khorassin. Mahala might have been thirty or sixty ; wore a black silk cap to save washing ; had eyes, hair, and complexion of a lemon-ice colour ; and garnished her speech with ex- pressions picked from various Methodistical treatises. Her existence centred in that of lisabee's love-story. 59 her master and mistress. She had come to them no one knew whence or when; and to herself that coming was as the Exodus to Israel, the Hegira to Mahomet. Indeed, she regarded her prior state as a kind of dark age or diluvial period — a state without order, or harmony, or identification, from which she had been upheaved by the bene- ficent influence of Mr. and Mrs. Raven. From living so entirely with the two objects of her veneration, she had grafted upon the arid wood of her nature a sprig of the one and a sprig of the other, till at last she resembled nothing so much as Mr. Raven in his nightcap, or Mrs. Raven without any cap at all. She lifted up her eyes after the manner of her master ; she hung down her hands after the manner of her mistress ; when she said grace over the 60 lisabee's love-story. cold mutton or dumplings, a blind man would have believed himself listening to the minister; when she preached morality to marauding little boys and girls in the kitchen garden, they cowered as to the minister's wife. She considered her master much as a second St. Paul, and was mightily proud of her mistress's poetical attainments. If people called during Mrs. Raven's Parnassian hours, she dismissed them with a dignified '' Missis is awakin' of her lyre;" and she carried her love of preachment to such a pitch that the grow- ing-up girls of the village fled from her as from a ghost. Smy belonged as much to Jordan Villa as Mahala herself. The most curious fea- ture of Mr. Raven's establishment was the way in which one part of it dovetailed lisabee's love-story. 61 into the other. Take away Smy, and you could no longer believe in Jordan Villa or its inmates at all. Equally beyond human conception would be Mahala's mistress without Mahala, or the cloister-like back- kitchen without the meditative and abste- mious cat. Smy had only one fault — he was too brisk. Mrs. Raven would say plaintively once or twice during the year — " Do try to go about a little slower, Smy, or you'll age so fast;" and Mr. Raven would tip him * five shillings after the blackbird season, saying with sympathy — " You've had a trying time, Smy — a very trying time — for you will exert yourself more than neces- sary ; but we are born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward;" and Mahala would moralize on briskness as if it were a sin, 62 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. till the old nian made answer, penitently — " I won't be brisk again, Mahala — I won't." Yet he never altered his pace a bit — a pleasant pace to look upon, too — something between a quick walk and a slow trot, just the pace one sees in seaside ponies let out at a shilling an hour. Smy and Mahala were capital friends, always preserving a dignified distance ex- cept on Christmas Day, when, as they sat over elderberry wine and gingerbread nuts, both unbent considerably; and Smy called Mahala " my dear," and Mahala called Smy " Mr. TlMimmus," and he made a proposal to her in the very same words year after year, just as the glasses were filled for the second time, and the hall clock struck four. In this quiet home the little Plumtree lisabee's love-story. 63 girls were always welcome and always happy. They wondered sometimes whether Heaven did not tire of Mr. Raven's long prayers, and wished he would now and then mislay or forget his soul when they took tea at Jordan Villa, so that the conversation might turn upon something else. They liked him, however; liked Mrs. Raven's long discourses on astronomy and plentiful supplies of cake ; liked Mahala, who always showed them a wonderful illustrated text- book, in which Joseph was represented in a swallow-tail coat and brass buttons, and Pharaoh's daughter like a tightrope dancer at the fair ; and they liked Smy, who gave them plants for their garden, and the only book ever in his possession, called " The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain," in which was written, after the country fashion — 64 lisabee's love-story. " Thomas Smy is my name, England is my nation, Nettlested my dwelling-place. And Christ is my salvation." There was yet another friend of the little ones whom we are bound to mention before crossing the threshold of our story. This was an old and faithful servant of their mother, Lyddy Maple by name, now married, but doing duty as charwoman at the farmhouse once or twice a week. Lyddy hated Miss Mercy, Miss Martha, and the whole Plumtree family, always excepting the kind-hearted, easily-led Wil- liam, and she loved his children almost as she loved her own. She had possessed Elgitha's entire confidence, and carried it with a high hand among the other ser- vants. She was also looked upon as the lisabee's love-story. 65 most honest labourer's wife in the parish. Indeed, she had talked so much of her honesty that everyone felt obliged to be- lieve in it ; even Mercy trusted her as she trusted no servant before. And Lyddy was honest; but her honesty was a manu- facture of very expensive materials. She presumed upon this self- assumed infalli- bility till it became a kind of tollhouse, from which she levied upon all those with whom she had dealings. She claimed so many odds and ends as her perquisites that no pilferer would have found her way of doing things half so lucrative as Mrs. Lyddy's. The rag-pickers of Montmartre are good scavengers ; but, oh ! you should have seen this honest woman scavenge the closets and safes of her employer ! " Thank God! I am honest," she would say, with a VOL. I. 1? 66 lisabek's love-story. delightfully self-satisfied smack of the lips ; " and I'm sure if I wasn't I shouldn't dare to show my face. Unprudent women and dishonest women are horrid, I say." She was pious, in the Methodistical acceptation of the word, conceited, and had something the matter with her liver, with her spine — in fact, with every part of her body. The most curious part of it was that she petted these little ailments as if they liad been pretty playthings; showed as much exaltation at discover- in «: a new one as Mr. Darwin mio'ht do in the discovery of a new pigeon due to natural selection. She had constructed quite a little geographical theory of her o^vn out of these same digestive organs, in whicli there were sufficient creeks, bays, and floating islands to puzzle a dozen anatomists ; lisabee's love-story. 67 and he must have been a bold physician indeed who would dare to enter the Cretan labyrinth of Mrs. Lyddy's digestive terri- tories at all. But she had the kindest of hearts — ^^^here will you go, indeed, for the cottager's wife who has not? — and to her the Plumtree children were beholden for many and many a happy afternoon. She entertained them to tea, initiated them into the wonderful art of lining a glass bottle with coloured pat- terns, and filling it with sand ; in fine, loved them, and made them love her. Such then was the childhood of William Plumtree's little girls — a childhood hard to bear, hard to look back upon, seeing how happy is the same period of life to most ; yet not all dark, since its very forlornness drew them nearer to each other; and its very p 2 68 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. want of joy and love taught them the full value of the lowliest joy, the humblest love — a lesson worth learning at some cost, especially to women. 69 CHAPTER V. rpiME passed, and brought a summer's day on which William Plumtree's little ladies woke up and found themselves happy. Slowly the bars of childhood, golden to most, but iron to them, drew back, open- ing to their hungering young spirits vistas of liberty, of pleasures of the intellect, of womanly ambitions, of dim, unspeakably sweet heart-romances. It was as if Life had hitherto been a prison, but on a sudden the window of escape stood open, and Nature, Hope, Love, beckoned outside with voices that said, " Oh, come, for we are waiting !'' And they obeyed, drinking, like 70 lisabee's love-story. Aurora Leigh, "glad gospels in;" and singing to themselves, thankful as the joyful souls in the "Pilgrim^s Progress," who, after escaping from Doubting Castle entered into the country of Beulah, whose "air was very pleasant and sweet, and their way lying through it, they solaced them- selves for a season." Is there such a thing in truth as happy childhood? Heavens, how these little ones suffer! How many, like caged birds, cast wistful, heartsick glances towards the free, bright country, and their fellows sporting- there ! There is surely no feeling so akin to despair as an unhappy child's envy of a happy one. Christ's pity must indeed be deeper than the sea and higher than the heavens if He can forgive those who morally massacre His innocents. lisabee's love-story. 71 But it is summer time; we are no longer children ; we are liappy. Oh, for the note of the thrush, the rush of frost-released streams, the buzzing of a million joyful creatures, to express the fulness and free- dom and lavish love of these young escaped hearts ! But one must be a poet to write as well of deep desolation as of perfected existence, and we are no poet; we have simply lived and loved, like Thekla ; and as the alembic would turn out no gold save in the hands of the alchemist, so it is only in the heart of the poet that sympathy be- comes poetry. The strawberries glisten like a rain of rubies amid the leaves ; the white, dusty road is deserted; the house doors stand open; all the farm folk are busy in the harvest- field, and "small fowles maken merrie." 72 lisabee's love-story. The eastern corn-country is as absent of hills as Prussia of hedges, and could you pile one church steeple upon another and there stand, you would have a smooth sea of barley and wheat around, you, in which the white farmhouses might represent sails, and the green lanes around them cloud shadows. Beneath the shadow of the orchard trees sit the four sisters, now as near womanhood as the last June rose is near the July lily, and each sister differing more from the other than the two flowers in question. Greta was stern and clever, with massive brow, and lips formed to hide the saddest of secrets. Cecilia was fair, volatile, and think- ing of enjoyment only. Mabel, tender- hearted, drooping Mabel, had doves' eyes, asking and giving affection as the chiefest lisabee's love-story. 73 boon of existence. And Lisabee — ah! pretty Lisabee — to look at her was as if the old, vain world should suddenly spread its colours like a peacock, saying, " See, how rich I am; though so abused, how rich still!" If she stood in the homeliest of haunts, the farmhouse kitchen, for instance, a brightness would fill the place, and, like the brightness of noonday sunlight, left a glow after its disappearance. Having once seen her, if only for an hour, for ten minutes — ay, for one minute — you could never be again as if you had not seen her; seeing her once was to hunger and thirst for seeing her twice ; and to see no one else like her life-long. The world held only one Lisabee, could not possibly hold another, simply because all that made her so lovable and dear, something not to be expressed in 74 lisabee's love-story. any words, belonged to her essentially — as an essence, in fact. There are particular summer skies one never sees twice — loveliest aspects of lovely scenes are never repeated — and so may exist an inexpressible sweetness in a woman's nature tliat makes that nature what it is, that is not the sweetness of any other nature, and never was or mil be described. And all of us have our Lisabee. This helps to explain our meaning intelligibly to the reader; deep feelings are ever easier to suggest than to make known ; and no por- trait so adequately portrays a beautiful woman as the heart's ideal. Therefore what need to describe Lisa- bee's brow, eyes, lips, and chin, seeing that all were what the old world patented as lovely, and the new loves? Truth to LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. / say, we don't know the colour of her eyes ourselves, so changeful were they, and as to her lips, we were always too much in love to determine whether they were full or not. Perhaps something ought to be said about her sylph -like waist; but to speak seriously, Lisa- bee was by no means like a lily-stalk, ready to snap in the first gust of wind ; on the con- trary, a remarkably healthful, buoyant, well- developed young girl ; moreover, full of frolic and feeling, of wild spirits now and then, quickly moved to tears, winning in spite of occasional caprices, and very ready to scold the world when it displeased her ; a true woman, in fact. Need we say more? Books, work, and drawings lie under the walnut-trees ; but the sun is in the south, and the sisters, industrious as they generally are, for once give way to the indolent tempt- ings of the hour. 70 lisabee's love-story. " How wicked we all are !" cried Lisabee, lifting her bright face from Greta's lap; "just because Aunt Martha died last year, and Aunt Mercy went back to Uncle Eichard, we feel quite young and happy. Now, Greta, isn't it wicked to rejoice in anybody's death, as we can't help doing?" " Don't talk of Aunt Mercy on a summer's day," interposed Mabel, with a flush of pain; " save that for wet, cheerless, wintry wea- ther years to come, when w^e are old and grey. '' Why, Mabel, what a doleful song you make of it! I've quite forgotten Aunt Mercy's ways long ago, and as to father, he's growing quite young and merry again. Oh ! poor, poor Aunt Martha ; how good of you to make us happy !" Greta said, in a very old, thoughtful way — lisabee's love-story. 77 " Well, Lisabee's wisdom is the best after all, though, for my part, I can't help wish- ing sometimes that when we were children Aunt Martha and Uncle Richard had been altogether myths. But Fm a woman now, and a hundred aunts could not do me harm. I shall get very learned some day and earn money, and Castor and Pollux will come down from the stars on white horses to marry you, and Cissy and Mabel will " Lisabee jumped up with an air of oiFended dignity. " That's all very fine," she cried, " but I can tell you, Greta, I don't want any of your Castors or Polluxes either. We were not brought up just to marry, but to get clever and earn money. Haven't I been taught that dry old Ollendorff's grammar, and practised scales an hour a day, and painted 78 lisabee's love-stouy. apples and pears, and the cat from nature? Marry indeed! Superior women don't marry now-a-days. It's getting out of fashion." Just as Lisabee finished speaking, William Plumtree came up. We forbore sketching his portrait in the early part of this narra- tive because he was so harassed, and petted, and made a martyr of by his brothers and sisters that every spark of manly nature was temporarily extinguished. Now, however, thanks to Miss Mercy's removal and the unchecked influence of his daughters, he held up his head, no longer sighed at every other word, thought it no sin to smile, and a pardonable one to find life tolerable. He was a benevolent-looking old man, with silky white locks, healthful, rosy cheeks, blue eyes beaming with the womanly tenderness LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 79 of his nature, and a form bent by premature age, but muscular still. He loved liis daughters as only widowers can, took an almost childish pride in their best dresses, thought their handAvriting, their knowledge of books, their paintings, the most wonder- ful of attainments, cried of joy if anyone praised their good looks, would have cooked a dinner willingly rather than let their little hands get soiled, and equally would have eaten the hardest fare so long as their more delicate appetites were satisfied with dainties. He had just come from the harvest- field, and was moiled with the dust and heat of the day, not yet having unlearned Aunt Mercy's teachings from " Poor Richard." "I don't think I can anyhow go with 80 lisabee's love-story. you to the Foreigners' Fete," he said, re- luctantly; "we are getting in barley, and the men won't work late enough if I leave them." " Then, father, we won't go," cried Lisa- bee, pettishly ; " how could we have the con- science to enjoy ourselves whilst you were slaving like a common labourer instead of sitting down to dinner with all the gentle- men and farmers for miles round, and five hundred foreigners, some of whom are princes and dukes and barons, not to speak of counts who will be as thick as black- berries? Everybody is going, from the rector and Sir Samuel Waring down to Mrs. Raven's Smy and Mahala and all." " If I do go, I suppose I must dress ?" said "William, looking dubiously at his chafiy trowsers. ^ lisabee's love-story. 81 " Of course, Papa, and shave, and put a silk pocket-handkerchief in your breast pocket, and a rose in your button-hole, and all that.'' He stroked her cheek fondly, looked half convinced, and sent out his last feeble little arrow. " Your aunt Mercy might hear of it, and she'd say I'm best at home minding the men " '' Tell Aunt Mercy you got your dinner for nothing," said Lisabee, slyly ; " she will see some economy in the thing then." Pairly beaten, William bent his steps towards the house, for with him a toilette was the slowest and most tedious of pro- cesses, and only an hour intervened between the time of starting. The little party emerged from the front gate at four o'clock, VOL. I. a 82 LISABEE S love-story, all in Sunday dress; indeed, but for this, notliino; would have induced William to make his exit except by the back way. Aunt Mercy considered it a great piece of pomposity, not to say extravagance, to use front doors, front parlours, and front gates, except on Sundays. " Set me down at the orchard gate,'' she would say to Kichard, " none of your Pierrepoint ways for ME !" But William was possessed with a spirit of bravery to-day. The flower in his button-hole, the polish on his boots, the newness of his kid gloves, above all, the pretty airy dresses of his girls, gave a generous warmth to his blood like that of wine. Then the constant passing and re- passing of vehicles, the strange dress and excited gestures of their occupants, and the LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 83 numerous pedestrians, all bent on the same errand, added new zest and courage. The first person they met was Smy, who greeted William Plumtree with a pull at his hat and a respectful "Your sarvant, sir," instead of the free-and-easy ^' Fine day, Mr. Plumtree,'* he had given him an hour before, when the latter was carting away barley in corduroys — cloth and corduroys having thus much of relative value in the eyes of worthy Smy. Five minutes' walking brought them to the pleasure farm of Patterson and Smy the, the great Quaker firm whose foundry forms the one sight of the corn-country, and whose ploughs, harrows and drills are to be seen all over the known world. Now, at the time of which we write, the Exhibition of '51 was bringing hundreds and thousands G 2 84 lisabee's love-story. to English shores, and with that large spirit of hospitality so instinctive in our merchant princes, Patterson and Smythe had invited all the principal guests of the most guest- ful w^eek to a fete at Nettlested. Many elements go to make up a good fete, and the Quakers had omitted none. For the instruction of the curious, there were corn-cutters from which the w^heat fell as neatly as locks from the hands of the barber, cleverly mechanized hay- makers which mowed, turned, cocked, and carted the hay as magically as the wizard Anderson gets up fine linen, chaff-cutters, drills, rollers, and so on ad infinitum. Then in an adjoining meadow had been erected a goodly marquee, under the plea- sant shelter of which the gentlemen were to dine. For the delectation of the ladies, tea lisabee's love-story. 85 and cake, a brass band, battledoor and shuttlecock, and other pastimes were pro- vided. The dinner was a thing to remem- ber. Naturally among the country squires and farmers representing Patterson and Smythe's English connexion, not one in a hundred could speak any language but his own, that often broadly enough. Germans invariably speak English in some degree, Kussians perfectly, but Frenchmen do not care for the trouble of learning it, unless obliged; whilst Spaniards, Hungarians, and Norwegians are only beginning to regard it as a necessary part of education. As might be expected, great though pleasing agitation prevailed. The marvel was that conversation did not in the least flag on account of such impediments. What formed the topics, or how much of them was under- 80 lisabee's love-story. stood, is another question ; but certain it is that throughout the latter part of the meal the buzz of voices never ceased. Wonderful to William Plumtree (whose travelling experiences were limited to one visit to London, in the stage-coach days, and one to Bury St. Edmunds to see a forger hanged) was it to behold real live Frenchmen and Germans eat. He could hardly control his amazement when his right-hand neighbour emptied a glass dish of preserved cherries over his roast beef, and his left-hand neigh- bour sij^ped a glass of Scotch ale with a teaspoon. Wonderful was it to see a mous- tached Mossoo take up asparagus stalks with his jewelled fingers, and dip them again and again in oil before eating; and to see a starred and hairy baron put water to his port wine, and pick his teeth in com- LISABEE S LOVE-STOUY. 87 pany. But the crowning astonishment of all was a conversation carried on between himself and the above-named Mossoo, which, after some shyness on the former's part, went on admirably. True, that the French- man talked all the while of farming imple- ments, whilst William imagined him to be describing his mode of living, number of family, &c. But the one and the other remained undeceived, and ever after, when in his Sunday clothes and best company, William would preface or conclude his stories with " So the Frenchman told m^." Then the great Patterson and the great Smythe made speeches,, and some explosive foreigners did the same. William Plumtree never forgot these speeches. The clasping of hands, the frantic jerkings of the head, the tender pats on 88 lisabee's love-story. the heart, the flattering smiles, bows, and minute embraces, the almost tearful expressions of love for us as a nation, the words that issued from the moustached mouths as briskly and agitatedly as scared sparrows from a thatched roof — all this was a sight and an experience that made Wil- liam feel a travelled cosmopolitan at once, a man at liberty to discourse of foreigners henceforth and for ever. But the ladies, and above all Lisabee! their share in the Patterson and Smythe's foreigners' fete must now be described, a fete slowly forgotten by Nettlested gossips, and by Lisabee never. 89 CHAPTER VI. 1 JiTHAT is a prettier sight than an Eng- lish fete? The spacious lawn half sun, half shadow, the broad red mansion peeping from the trees like the face of a jovial country squire, the bright-faced, brightly dressed girls clustered here and there, like knots of June flowers in a grass plot; the little ones, whose feet are never tired of chasing butterflies; the Mammas, who feel young again as they watch the curate or Cousin Harry sidle up to Sarah Jones ; the papas, who flirt with all the four- year-old toddlekins. Who does not feel young on such an occasion? 90 lisabee's love-story. The fete in question had several speciali- ties; foremost of these were its simplicity and Quaker element. The usual obstruc- tions to enjoyment in the way of etiquette were wholly ignored; and, excepting the Plumtree sisters, Mrs. Raven and a few neighbours, all the ladies wore Quaker colours. Of the Patterson family, no fewer than fifteen young ladies could be numbered dressed in the neatest lilacs and browns, and full of romp, health, and spirit, as Quaker school -girls generally are. The Smythes made a fair show, but were more sedate. For the first hour or two after tea, no gentlemen appeared outside the marquee, excepting two or three young cousins of the Pattersons, who preferred the ladies' society to chicken and champagne; and, indeed, the privilege of joining the ladies had neces- lisabee's love-story. 91 sarily been limited to friends only. Most country people know the game called "Kiss in the ring," a game much liked at Sunday school treats, and by children in general. The Patterson children of course entreated for "Kiss in the ring," and Jeannie Smythe, a fine, frolicsome brunette of twenty, who had ventured upon a pink love-knot to relieve her brown dress, persuaded Lisabee to join her, and the game began. When the handkerchief had been thrown at Lisabee by an admiring little lover of six years, and the former, flushed and eager, was vainly trying to catch him, a merry voice cried over Jeannie's shoulder — " Cousin Jane, won't thee let me have a turn too?" "Well, thee may play, Tom," answered 92 lisabee's love-story. Jeannie, sagely ; '' but thee mustn't kiss, mind that; and there's somebody behind thee who mustn't play at all." '' Nonsense," said the young man, break- ing the circle, and motioning his friend to break it elsewhere ; " if I may play, so may Arthur Leebridge. Arthur, my cousin Jane." " Arthur Leebridge," Jeannie continued, when the introduction was over, " of course I needn't tell thee that it is strictly for- bidden to throw thy handkerchief, except to the little ones. If thee art willing, thee may play." " You must trust to my honour,'* was the gay answer; and the game recommenced. Tom Patterson was a light-hearted, clever fellow, just settling down to foundry busi- ness after having been Fox, Grand Duke lisabee's love-story. 93 of Lichenstein, and having borne other beer-drinking dignities in the University of Heidelberg. Arthur Leebridge has many claims upon us. He was one of those men whose cha- racters are told in a sentence, and whose face is not justly to be described at all. Has it not once or twice happened to you to see a face remembered ever after ? You hardly know why; you could never aptly por- tray it. Feeling such a disadvantage keenly, we still try our hand at a portrait. Arthur Leebridge was by no means a fine man; his height, on the contrary, hardly reached the average fLve feet eight ; and his figure had too much squareness, too much muscularity, too much nervous- ness (we use the word in its primeval meaning), for the beauty that so pleases 94 lisabee's love-story. women. Men admired this at first sight, arguing therefrom strength develoj)ed, proved, and always ready for use. His head was well set on his shoulders, and had a Roman look about it, to which the close-cut locks and the utter absence of beard added ; and a face already statuesque — classic we should say, only that the word gets so abused — gained by the further want of moustache and beard. It was a face that struck you from its per- fection of proportion and almost painful sensitiveness of expression ; that struck you, moreover, from its double aspect — the one cold and intellectual, the other sensuous, or rather sensihilis — our word sensible having wholly lost its Latin meaning. His forehead was cold, calm, and grand, showing how firmly the intellect lisabee's love-story. 95 had enthroned itself there; but the deli- cately outlined nose and mouth indicated weakness, passion, self-accusation, want of self-mastery, heart. His eyes were fine, but disappointed you in comparing them with the other features, for they seemed rather like prison-bars than windows of his soul, and, try your utmost, you could not see behind them. He looked at the world, but would not let the world look at him. His character we must leave entirely to chance and the elucidation that circumstances will throw on it through the course of this narrative. What indeed can so well portray a man as he portrays himself in a hundred ways every day? What so clearly declares his inclinations as the thing he loves? What his distastes as the thing he hates ? 96 lisabee's love-story. As palaeontologists have discovered the precise species of some extinct animal from the clear impression remaining in the deposit long after its bones have crumbled away; so can we deduce a man's nature from his daily habits and deeds, these being moulded by himself injto the form we find. All life is passive — so much plastic clay in the hands alike of skilled and unskilled; how few, alas ! true artists, moulding it into the image of God ! In the childish rural game of "Kiss in the Eing," Arthur Leebridge joined hands with Lisabee, an act simple enough and justified by the occasion, but, somehow, one that made her silent, troubled, and happy in a new, sudden way. He spoke to her, just a word or two of common courtesy, but the answer lingered on her lips. Again he lisabee's love-story. 97 spoke, and then, as she looked up, he ssivr such eyes as he had not looked for in this old-world corn-country — eyes full to overflowing of sweetest womanly nature^ convex cups of pure shining sapphire, brim- ming with golden wine. There are mo- ments in the life of all women when they look more beautiful than they have ever done before, or will do again. Some inward,, unspeakable joy diffuses a brightness to form and face, and like magic comes and goes, none know whence or whither — a transfiguration, if we may so express it, Lisabee was thus momentarily transfigured under the first gaze of Arthur Leebridge, The brown, lustrous hair that drooped over her white neck, like a golden pheasant resting on a snow-covered stem, had never seemed so lustrous before; her lips and cheek were VOL. I. H 98 lisabee's love-story. suddenly tinted with a bloom so soft that one might fancy a child's kiss would sweep it off. Her eyes — ah! who can say the sweetness of a woman's eyes as she looks for the first time on the face of the beloved ? She raised her head, asking the meaning of his words half by a blush, half by a smile. " I merely asked if you drove from town with the Pattersons?" he said. ''No; I live here, at Nettlested.'' "And your name is Lisabee?" he went on ; "a pretty name, and easy to remember. Mine is Arthur; but that isn't a pretty name, do you think?" "Who could have helped smiling at the boyish vanity of these words, coming as thej did from the mouth of a man past thirty? Lisabee broke into a merry laugh, and said — LISABEE S LOVE-STOEY. 99 "I never thought about it, not know- ing anyone named Arthur before. How •should I?" He continued talking to her in the same strain till the handkerchief was thrown over his shoulder, when, according to rule, he had to chase the thrower. In less than five minutes that was done, however, and then his turn came to throw. Jeannie watched him in a cat-like way as he made the circuit of the ring twice; but when he slyly let the handkerchief fall on Lisabee's arm, her indignation knew no bounds. " Thee must be expelled,'' she cried, " ignominiously expelled at once. Friend Leebridge. Pretty honour it is that thee begged us to trust to ; but thy punishment will no doubt atone. Children, continue the game," H 2 100 lisabee's love-story. *' I appeal," exclaimed Leebridge, laugh- ingly; ^'I appeal, Jane Patterson, against your judgment. Whoever votes for my pardon, show hands." Of course, all the little ones held up their hands; numbers decided, and the delinquent received pardon. Universal consent ex- cused Lisabee from picking up the hand- kerchief, Arthur Leebridge being chased by a youngster instead. He lost his place by Lisabee's side, too, and could not speak to her agahi whilst the game lasted. Later in the evening, she found herself by his side, she knew not how — her heart beat- ing quickly, she knew not why. It is strange but true that two people may be as much in love with each other as possible, may make that love palpable even, and yet never venture upon the remotest ex- LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 101 pression of this newly risen passion in words. Arthur said the commonest things to Lisabee, and yet none but brought strange, hitherto-un tasted sweetness with them — none that did not leave the impress of the speaker. His words were of him, therefore each simple little sentence was a reflex of himself, faint like the moon's shadow, yet how like the moon ! — how unlike aught €lse ! Wonderful that a whole new life had dawned upon her in an hour ! Could it be really true ? Was it Lisabee, her very self, walking by the side of some one called Arthur, some one unknown before, but never, never now to be forgotten? Locke has omitted one necessary con- sideration in his otherwise exhaustive chapter on Duration. He, in no wise, alludes to the power possessed by all of us, 102 lisabee's love-story. at some time, of lengthening out a cei^tain portion of time. Yet nothing is truer than that a day, a morning, an hour may, under certain circumstances, bear to us the relative proportion of two. Anyone who is able to enter into the vividly dissected feelings of M. Hugo's " Condamne ' will understand this^ if his own experience withholds an instance — which is hardly likely. For human passions do in reality clog the wheels of Time with flowxrs or weeds, as Heaven sends ; and Love, all-powerful Love, adds to the day it makes lovely, a shadow so resembling itself that we are deceived by it. Lisabee was so deceived. This Arthur, this new friend, this wonderful heart-stirring voice, were hers only for the evening ; but the single evening seemed a year in perspective. And she listened to his words, and stole sly LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. 103 glances at his face^ wishing, as only Youth can wish, that she might once more in life be so happy again. Slowly, yet surely, an end came to the wine-drinking in the marquee and the games on the lawn. Then, in the cool summer twilight there was a rumbling of wheels, a repetition of good-byes, and a clatter of hoofs on the dusty roads. Mid the confusion of so many departures, and the hundreds of people saying adieu in the dusk, Arthur found Lisabee as easily as the diver his pearl. She was standing on the farmhouse threshold beside the Eeverend Albert Kaven, and had been already partly waked from her dream by the monotony of his voice. But that other voice brought all back again — the wonder, the joy, the unutterable promise. 104 lisabee's love-story. " I must say good night," he said, with a tenderness only noticeable to the one for whom it was intended. " Ah ! why do such days ever end?" " Say, rather," chimed in Mr. Eaven, ^' why is the heart of man ever craving for carnal pleasure, which is as stubble before the wind?" Arthur did not speak, and Lisabee was also silent. Her eyes were full of tears, shed, poor child, for the happiest day she had yet lived. But she merely took the hand held out to her, smiled her farewell in the dusk, and then hastened into the house to seek her sisters. She could not listen to Mr. Raven then, kind friend as he was; his soul and all its daily little naughtinesses and ailments were as nothing, his visitation of blackbirds a thing too trifling for sympathy. lisabee's love-story. 105 The first bedroom into wliich Ellen peeped was tenanted by Mrs. Raven, that lady having sought a little lull from the evening's excitement. Her kindly, moon- like face brightened at sight of the young girl, though the look was instantly subdued. ''It has been too much for me, my dear," she said, in a forced under-tone, '' and I have been trying to calm myself away from the busy throng;" — Mrs. Raven was fond of poetic expressions. " Half an hour ago, my pulse beat at a most alarming rate; but with occasional sips of cold tea, and a quiet consideration of Saturn, I have managed to subdue it a little." She put down the book from which she had been reading, and looked at her watch. " Yes, I am right, my dear ; exactly half lOG lisabee's love-story. an hour ago I found it necessary to resort to remedies, so extreme was the agitation of my nervous system; and no remedy for such conditions is equal to strong mental concentration. Sometimes I resort to the Ablative Absolute (a difficult Latin con- struction, my dear), and form hundreds of sentences on a pattern like Sole oriente^ nox fugit ; but the most infallible means is an astronomical phenomenon. I have often tried the Ablative Absolute in vain; but the revolutions of Saturn never. Should you ever suffer from perturbation of the nerves, Miss Lisabee, try the revolutions of Saturn ; and a little handbook like this of Dick, interspersed with moral reflec- tion, is just as useful to carry about as a scent-bottle." Lisabee's flushed, eager face showed very lisabee's love-story. 107 little sympathy with Mrs. Raven's theories just then. She asked almost impatiently after her sisters. " If you will wait ten minutes, whilst I fix my attention upon the direction of the sun towards the star Hercules, I will accom- pany you in search of them," replied Mrs. Raven, good-humouredly; . " indeed, I should have been quite composed before this had not Smy upset me by putting in the pony and expecting me to drive home amid this rushing to and fro of men. He is so brisk that really if he weren't attached to us, and never wanting malt liquor, and always handy at eating up tops and bottoms too stale for Miss Raven, we should have to part with him. Only the last time I paid his wages, I talked to him as his own . mother might have done, and he promised 108 lisabee's love-story. to pray against liis briskness, with tears in his eyes; but, dear me, he's just as bad as ever, and yesterday went so quickly to the baker's with short-cakes and apple-jacks that two were brushed off the tray turning the corner, and though not harmed, as they fell on the grass, still put out of shape." Just then, to Lisabee's infinite relief, Mabel and Greta came in ; and after affec- tionate leave-taking of Mrs. Eaven, the sisters walked home with their father by moon- light. All were talkative but Lisabee. She was dreaming as she passed homeward through the quiet, sweet-smelling hay-fields, dreaming as she partook of the homely supper, dreaming as she took her humble little candlestick and went upstairs to bed. Slowly and wistfully she undressed, feel- ing as if, with every part of apparel laid lisabee's love-story. 109 aside, some portion of this all too-happy day were laid aside also ; and alas ! not like the first, soon to be resumed again. As she untied her sash, a rose fell to the floor — a rose that her own hands had not placed there, a rose that she had seen in his. Arthur's ! She looked at the flower earnestly, stooped down to smell its perfume as it lay^ then caught it to her lips, her heart, with a sort of sweet, wild emotion. Could we have seen her then, her form so lissome and full of graceful, happy life — her face * so eloquent of new, pure love, we might better understand the story told to us by old Herodotus of a mortal whose beauty won him a place among the gods. no CHAPTER VII. A S a superabundant harvest is often fol- lowed by an insufficient and mildewed one, so on the heels of the sisters' happy day came a visit from Aunt Mercy and Uncle Richard, attended by its usual vexations. These well-meaning, but unfortunately blind, individuals always made their visits as unexpected as possible. "We like to take you as you are, William," they said, " and nothing extra ; it isn't what we can get that we come for, but to talk to you about business, and such like. Pray don't have thin bread and butter cut for us J^ Yet one day when Lisabee wickedly took them lisabee's love-story. Ill at their word and ordered the family loaf to be placed on the table intact, gloomy and portentous was the brow of Miss Mercy, irritated and snarling the voice of Uncle Richard. For people who like to take their friends as they are, have one of two motives at the bottom of such a preference. Either they are meek, humble individuals who fancy their company is not worth settmg a day apart for; or they are prying, curious souls, whose eyes are here, there, and every- where, who love to trip you up in a little extravagance or folly, or hitherto snug little habit, who dearly love to find out what you are. Now, Miss Mercy lived under a con- stant corroding terror of new carpets. The carpets at Sycamore Farm were very worn and darned, and whenever William sold a 112 lisabef/s love-story. stack of wheat or a hundred pigs, she drew a fearful and frenzied mental picture of the girls possessing themselves of a ten-pound note, of their walking down to the town in great glee, and ordering so many yards of bright Brussels. She imao^ined that such surreptitiously obtained carpets would be taken up if her visits were made known in perspective; she imagined that if not at carpets, she should catch the girls in some daring piece of extravagance one of these days — silk dresses, a new piano, or chair- coverings for the best parlour ; but carpets dominated over her ideal chamber of horrors, and carpets sent her many and many a time to take William as he was. Poor William dreaded these visits from his heart of hearts, and yet, so blind is human nature, that from the beginning of his life to the end he lisabee's love-story. 113 looked upon Mercy and Richard as his good angels. He had heard them say so often that but for his brother and sisters he would have been in the workhouse long ago, and how could he help believing it ? And though after the three hours' visit was over he in- variably felt that but for the poor dear girls and the newspapers it would be the best thing to say his prayers, and make an end at once, he still regarded his affectionate relatives in the most gi-ateful light possible ; he was quite as grateful indeed as the rarely honoured offender in China who re- ceives from his lord and emperor permission to hang himself instead of being tortured to death. To-day no visible carpets appeared to crown Miss Mercy's phantasmal miseries; and, excepting that the girls' muslin VOL. I. I 114 ltsabee's love-story. dresses were of a very liglit liue, no show of Pierrepoint lavishness cropped up. Whilst William and Richard walked through the fields before tea, these same light dresses forced Aunt Mercy's bulbous suspicious- ness into bud above ground. "Those are uncommon pretty dresses^ my dear," she said to Lisabee ; " I daresay they cost eighteenpence or two shillings a yard — being so fine ?" Lisabee arched her pretty eyebrows, and burst into a little deprecating laugh. " Why, aunt, they're only cheap English muslins bought at about nine shillings the dress! I'm so glad they look good, though." "Ah! it's the making that makes 'em mount up," continued Aunt Mercy, "not the material ; of course you have your dresses LISABEES LOVE-STORY. 115 made in the town by the best dressmaker? Your poor Ma always had, for she never considered expense, poor dear." " Well, we did employ a good dressmaker^ aunt, and I think she made them nicely, don't you ?" answered Lisabee, her eye brim- ming over with playful malice ; " these little knots of plum-coloured ribbon stuck here and there look so pretty." Aunt Mercy took up Lisabee's flounce with eager fingers. " Oh ! it's pretty enough," she said, '' but when Marthy and I were your age we never had muslin dresses with light grounds, though we did all the washing ourselves • and as to town dressmakers, your poor Pa had need have a good crop I'm sure, for what with sundries, and pieces kept back, and trimmings they charge for and don't I 2 116 LISABEe's LOYK-STOllY. put on, town dressmakers would soon ruin any farmer." " But, aunt, these dresses were made by our identical selves, and we shouldn't send in bills to father, should we? Cissy cut them out, Mabel did the plain parts, and I put on the bows." Just then, however, Aunt Mercy's atten- tion happened to be drawn in another direction, for with a cloud of dust and clatter of hoofs two gentlemen and a lady rode up the front way. Cissy saAv them also, and smiled with sly humour, but Lisabee blushed to the roots of her hair, and cried, half trembling — " Oh 1 Cis, it is Jeannie Patterson, and^ and " She could not finish her sentence. Aunt Mercy finished it for her. lisabee's love-story. 117 '' These must be some company from Sir Samuel Waring's, wlio have lost their way," she said, though quite aware of the con- trary. " Surely, Greta, they Avon't come in, or I must go into the kitchen. I can't talk with fine ladies." "Aunt," said Greta, quietly; "it is no one but Jeannie Patterson, of the Quaker Patterson family, and her cousin and visi- tor; no fine people at all. I daresay they have ridden up with the intention of staying to tea.'' Lisabee looked as if she could have em- braced her sister on the spot, and put in — ■ " I don't think we could help asking them, aunt, as they have come all the way from the town, and we are invited to their house sometimes. Greta, will you go and ask them in? I must see after the tea," 118 LTSABEE S LOVE-STORY. She flew out of the room, not mei*ely to see after the tea, but to colleet herself a little. Her head was in a whirl, her heart beat quickly, her colour went and came, and she lingered in the kitchen, longing yet not daring to encounter Arthur. AVhen the butter had been garnished with parsley, the cream transferred into a glass jug, the cake of her own making put on a snowy fringed cloth, the best china cups got out, and the old-fashioned silver teapot filled to the brim. she still lingered. But no sooner had her hand touched his, her eyes read the joyful welcome of his own, than she took the chair he placed for her, and wanted nothing else the world could give. A tea has various aspects, and this tea in particular had very many. To Miss Mercy lisabee's love-story. 119 it was much as the. first rush on a fallhio; bank, the first leak in a wrecked ship, the first onien of Troy's downfalh Fine com- pany would drive poor dear William to the workhouse, whatever might be done to help hira. Eichard, like all men of weak mind, felt flattered by the company of his betters, and grew wiser in his own estimation every time Jeannie or Tom smiled at his flaccid little conceits; till, by the end of tea, he began to think himself a very clever fellow indeed. William, so devoted to his young daugh- ters, so grateful to his brother and sister, became two individualities, as it were, that evening ; with his best and cheerful self, he rejoiced to see the young folks happy, thinking a little tea and cream could not 120 lisabee's love-story. make him much poorer ; with his second^ and Aunt Mercy's self, he looked upon the whole thing as ruinous, repented bitterly of going to the fete, repented of a hundred things. Greta, ever looking for a rise in position, found this little glimpse of social life very pleasant and soothing. Cissy Avas content to flirt with Tom Patterson. Mable con- tent to smile and be amused. And Lisabee, with Arthur by her side, what did she care for Aunt Mercy, for a hundred Aunt MercySy or any other tyrannies in the world? Happy youth! happy love! that can so joyfully and unsparingly feast on the heaven-sent manna of the hour, never doubting God will provide more for to- morrow ! When tea was over the young peo- lisabee's love-story. 121 pie went into the garden; it was a large slope facing the road, filled with shrubs, roses, strawberry beds, and scarlet-runners, such a garden as is only to be found in the corn-country. Tom imme- diately began a work of marauding; he pelted the girls with half-ripe plums, played at Chinese ball with apples, and, finally, climbed the highest j^ear-tree, and threw pears into their aprons. Arthur and Lisabee found themselves at the garden gate alone. We always find ourselves alone when in ]ove — such a thing never happens through our own connivance. Arthur was grave, Lisabee smiled with eyes, brow, lips — for it is the man who first questions and troubles himself with his new gift, his land of promise; the woman accepts it at first sight, and is happy. 122 lisabee's love-story. A brier caught Lisabee's dress, and then tliere was a little quarrel. She would draw it away, so would Arthur, and he being the strongest, of course conquered, as she wished him to do. How tenderly he smoothed the torn sleeve ! Had it been her arm he could not have looked at the hurt with more concern, and she laughed gaily, chiding his rudeness, his awkwardness, as is the way of woman ! " If I only lived here," said Arthur, look- ing up at the sun-mellowed old farmhouse, " I should wish for nothing else on earth. To look out of those antiquated, picturesque windows, and see the sun ripening my corn — to wake up early and brush through the wet turnip-fields in search of partridges — to live among these plain-spoken, old-fashioned labouring folks — to be churchwarden, and lisabee's love-story. 123 therefore a kind of small patriarchal magis- trate in my parish ; I can fancy no exist- ence so enviable." '^ Whilst we," cried Lisabee, brightly, " are tired of heariiio^ so much farmino: talk and as to society, would rather keep at home for ever than visit with people who can talk of nothing but eggs and butter. Oh ! tell me of London, and what you do there." " I live much farther from London than you do," said Arthur, with increasing dis- content in his voice, "in an old German city, shut in by mountains, where the people are all Roman Catholics, and the rain falls continually, and there isn't a single spot that is beautiful to me from association. What is worse, it is three days' journey from you — from England, 124 lisabee's love-story. and "Nvhen I am once tliere, I may never return." Lisabee blushed, then turned pale ; finally, begged him to tell her the name of this German city, and more about it, for she had read " Uridine," and " The Gold-makers' A^llage." And, oh! she felt so interested in everything German! ^' I live at Salzburg," he said. " Salzburg — Salzburg.*' She repeated the name as if it were sweet as honey to her lips. '' There are salt-mines there, and it is in Austria, and the country lying round it is mountainous and lovely ; see how much I know of Salzburg already! But why do you live there?" ''Why are some people loaded with the good things of fortune, and others hunted down by the gods as if they had done them lisabee's love-story. 125 injury? Why are there such places as Nettlested, peaceful, homelike, happy, where I would fain pass the rest of my days, and such places as Salzburg, where I am an exile, an outcast, a mere breather of air, yet live ? I don't knoAv; but the world is like a lottery, and nobody gets what he wants." His voice shadowed Lisabee's happy mood, it was so gloomy, and as she pulled a flower to pieces, thoughts came of Aunt Mercy, and home trouble, and Salzburg so far away — Arthur's home. Suddenly he touched her hand. ''Have you kept my rose?" he said, softly; " it was all I had to give." She lifted her pretty head with the intention of coquetting, but some- thing in his face restrained her. Still 126 lisabee's love-story. her woman's pride struggled for its little victory. " What rose ? When did you give me one?" she said. " Oh !" he cried, with earnestness. " It was no rose indeed, but my youth, that I gave you yesterday ! Be serious for one minute, and answer me truly. No matter whether a rose or a whole springtime. I gave you something yesterday ; have you my gift still?" Fain would Lisabee have flown from him then, have joined her sisters, have hidden indoors, have done anything to escape such questioning. But his eyes held her there magnetically, and his hand was raised to stop any attempt at escape. "Have you my gift still?" he repeated; and at last a low " Yes" stole from her lisabee's love-story. 127 lips, but how reluctantly! — Like a bird hesitating at the door of an open cage, not knowing whether to go or stay. She was repaid by as joyful a smile as a woman ever saw in the eyes of her happy lover. " Now," he said, gaily, " Salzburg is neither exile, nor the gods vicious, nor life too churlish, to be coaxed into a smile. I will talk to you as you best like — I will please you even if you try to be displeased. It is but seven o'clock. Perhaps we have, one hour to ourselves — perhaps two — to set against a life-long separation. What matters! The most enviable lives are always those counted by minutes or hours — not years. Time has an ugly sound, but what have you and I to do with time on a summer's evening at Nettlested? We 128 LISABEE S LOVE-STORY. • are happy, and happiness is eternah Let us go into the shade of that delicious orchard, and you shall tell me from which tree you like best to pluck apples, and where you sit to read such books as ^ Undine.' There was never such a place as this old farmhouse in the w^orld — never !" They unlatched the gate softly, and passed into the orchard, silent and blessed. Under the sweet-smelling walnut-boughs they wandered side by side, saying little, yet to each other's hearts how much! Sometimes Lisabee's locks w^re tangled in the too low branches, and then how happy he was to dislodge the soft, bright hairs, not breaking one ! Sometimes Arthur found out inextricably difficult side-paths by the pond, on purpose that he might guide her with his hand. Sometimes she it was who LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 129 devised little ways of proving his ten- derness, his devotion. So the evening: passed. Nature sympathizes with us when the human heart is cold, and for this reason — we trust her more. Arthur and Lisabee let no one know of their happiness that even- ing — no one suspected it even; but the winds knew it, and breathed softly — the hedgerow flowers knew it, and said, "Forget me not, forget me not" — the birds knew it. and sans^ of love — the sky knew it, and clothed itself in rosy red, for Nature, like all great poets, forgets her own greatness to share our littleness : to her are known the least as well as the greatest of her children's joys and sorrows; she is tender, with mother- like tenderness, when they need her, even VOL. I. K 130 lisabee's love story. with childish needs. Naked, and starved, and poor indeed were we without such a mother ! Fall slowly, shadows, over the place where they wander ! Linger late, setting sun, on the hair of the maiden ! Close your cups one by one, flowers, since they open no more on enchantment ! Climb the clouds slowly, bright evening star, for the light that you shed will divide them ! 131 CHAPTER YIIL ^' r\ LOVE !" says the Greek dramatist, " mayst tliou never appear to me to my injury! for neither is the blast of iire nor the bolt of heaven more vehement than that of Yenus." '^ 'Tis impossible to love and be Avise," was once said. Indeed, what has not been said about this same love that all of us know something of, and knowing ever so little have often found that little too much ? Love is like a pedlar, coming to us when least looked for, when least wanted, and yet never turned away. We listen to the pedlar's insinuations, we allow him to dis- K 2 132 lisabee's love story. play his wares, we regard them with wist- ful eyes, and again and again shake our heads. "Your Avarcs are not worth our solid gold pieces," we say ; but anon, what with soft flattery and winning ways, ^vo are drawn into the Avile ; we pour out our good money — every clear, true-ringing piece of it; we shake our purses and pockets; yea, we feel the very corners, that not one little insignificant coin be left, till all that we have in the world is given, and the bargain is made for weal or woe. We cannot recall our pedlar if we would ; the goods may prove never so tinselly, we may rcjDent never so piteously, he comes in our way no more — hides himself rather for fear of reproach. His so-called treasures are no longer his, but ours; and we must make merry over them, or break our hearts over lisabee's love story. 133 them, as tlie case may be. Be sure to avoid love and the pedlars, if you wish to live a life of peace ! Lisabee, finding the farmhouse a tiresome place next day, put on her garden-hat and scarf, filled a little basket with odds and ends of viands, and set off to see Lyddy Maple. The walk had been chosen by the restless girl for its cool seclusion and almost romantic picturesqueness ; for the corn- country people, though without hills to boast of, have many and many a shady lane such as Gainsborough loved to paint. In such a lane, or drift, the grass grows ankle-deep, the hay-carts move as noise- lessly as ladies on carpet, the hedgerows are full of life, untamed, dewy ; above all, and shutting in all, the tough old. English oaks spread out their brawny arms, and 134 lisabee's love story. liiclc the blue sky ^vitli their gold green leaves, the sun tingling through every one ; there is no distanee, no prospect, either to right or to^ left, but smooth yellow waves of corn gleam here and there as a river through landscape vistas. When twilight comes, the old trees and the gay young hedges thrill and throb with the joy of their amorous visitors, the birds ; you hear the eager outburst of the thrush, the tender pipe of the plover, the glad little chirp of the wren, and last of all, the poetic canticles of the nightingale. Night is delicious there, with heavy dew, with scent of briar and woodbine, with deep shadows and silence, with only a chance glimpse of sky and one or two stars. Lisabee found Lyddy in a highly excited state of mind. The fact is, Lyddy had lisabee's love story. 135 some obstreperous young sons and a very mild and uxorious husband ; the boys would sometimes go wrong, their father would not punish them, and herein lay Lyddy's crown- ing grievance of life. True, that once upon a time, when this good husband had dared to lay hands upon his first-born, Ebenezer, he received forthwith such an upbraiding from the tongue of his loving wife as he never afterwards forgot. That mattered little. Lyddy called everybody to witness that, if her sons did amiss, she was not to • blame ; all the fault lay with their foolishly fond father. " They do get to quarrelling so, my Ebby and Joey, that what with their schisms and backbitin's, I tell 'em they're worse than Sodom and Gomorrah, Miss Lisabee," she said. 136 lisabef/s love stoky. " I'm sorry to hear sucli an account of your boys," said Lisabee, sympathetically ; '^ I thought they were so steady and well- behaved." "And so they are, miss, in general — though I say it as shouldn't — never usin' bad words, and taking such care of their clothes as is wholly wonderful; whereas you see Mrs. Furze's boys swearin' a Sun- days, and never wearin' a pair of trowsers that gets mended neat and matched. But I have brought up my children with all the davantage possible, teaching them their Catechism, and Watt's Hymns, and all that in them is — though I say it as shouldn't. Well, Miss Lisabee, you haven't been to see me lately ; and I do think you've grown since you came last ; and, dear me ! you have womaned so nicely too, and lisabee's love story. 137 looking just for all the world like your dear Ma." " Am I ?" asked Lisabee, with a soft light in her eyqp ; "but Mamma was very pretty, wasn't she, Lyddy?" " That she was, and belonging as she did to the highstocracy, carried herself with an air as if she were a queen, and not minden' Marcy a mite in the world. Miss Marcy, I ought to say ; but I can't think anyone a lady who wears cotton gownds and is so grudgety." , " She is rather of a grudging nature, '^ said Lisabee; " but she means well, Lyddy, and I wish I could love her." "Love her, miss! She grudges the wittals you eat, the gownd you wear, and I daresay, if the truth could be told, your very shoe-leather. I don't hold with such things 13S ltsabee's love story. ir.ysclf; and only to-day when I was looking in Moore's Almanack to find out whether much rain would come afore the gleaning beghis, I could but think the two-headed monster in the highgloripike meant a judgment, and the drowning cats in the water grudgety people. I'm a great larner of highgloripike, Miss Lisabee, and last year found out from it that I was going to have an attack of the liver long afore it came on. I take it the highgloripikes would do jist as well as doctors if we larned 'em well; and better, because we shouldn't have to pay bills for advice.'* " Tell me, now," exclaimed Lisabee, coax- in gly, " did you find anything about me in the hieroglyphics ? I should like to have my fortune told that way." lisabee's love story. 139 Lyddy looked knowing, fetched the almanack, and opened it at the desired page. "It did strike me," she said, "as I was a-looking that something else deluded to you in the highgioripike. You read the writin' that goes first, will you, for they put beautiful words there?" Lisabee read the following : — " Courteous Eeader, — I would ask you why is gravitation called into action in the element of cohesion between bodies ap- parently too distant from each other to admit of any connecting medium whatever? Think of what our trepidation would be if the inconceivable velocities of the planets were absolutely apparent !'^ " I don't see what this has to do with you or my fortune," said Lisabee, impatiently. 140 lisabee's love story. ''Expound the hieroglypliic without tliat nonsense." Lycldy took the ahnanack from the young lady's hand, rather discomfited. " Well, missy," she said, recovering her- self in the dignified character of Sibyl, " you see them ladies with Avings, conversing with one another, that's you and your sisters, and the gentleman a-kneeling afore you dressed in fishes' scales " " In armour, Lyddy," put in Lisabee, with a smile. " Army, then ; him's your lover as is to be, and your face is turnin' to him, smilin' like. But, lauks a mercy, miss! what gentleman is riding yonder in the lane?" Lisabee looked up and coloured with joy- ous, unspeakable surprise. It was Arthur Leebridire. lisabee's love story. 141 " It must be an oilicer from the barracks," said Lyddy, forgetting her Sibylline charac- ter all at once; "maybe comin' to get a peep at you, miss." " Nonsense, Lyddy ; let's finish the hiero- glyphic. Where did you leave off?" But somehow the rest of the fortune-tell- ing proved very dry. Lisabee rose from the table, moved restlessly about the room, asked to be shown the chickens, the double stocks in the garden, the russet-tree, and finally said she must go home. '^It's growing dark, Lyddy; walk a little way down the drift with me," she asked; of course, Lyddy consented. When they had reached the halfway oak, a splendid old tree, under Avhich Lisabee and her sisters read many a volume on summer afternoons, Lyddy remembered that the^ 142 lisabee's love story. dumplings were not in the Loiler for her boys' supper. " You're not afraid to go the rest of the way alone?" she said. "You can hear your Pa's sheep-dog barkin', and my Ebby will pass you on his way home." " Oh no ; good night, Lyddy," the young girl cried, and with a happy, though some- what fast-beating little heart, she sprang lightly over the soft, dewy ground. She had gone about a hundred yards when the quick tread of horses' feet sounded in the distance — now soft, as they fell on the turf, now sharp and hard, as they dashed over the flinty bits of road inter- spersed ; the sound came nearer, soon quite near, and she crept closer to the hedge, as if fearful of being seen. But she was seen, and by the eyes to whom such si ght was lisabee's love story. 143 the dearestj most welcome in tlie world. Arthur Leebridge recognised the pretty figure in light cambric at a glance, and sprang from his horse before she fairly realized the fact of his nearness to her at all. He tied the reins to a tree close by, coaxed his beast to some rare feed by the bank side, and then came up to Lisabee. With- out any hesitation or warning, he held out both his hands to her — surely a very u.n- warrantable proceeding on the young man's. part, considering his short acquaintance with our pretty Lisabee. She, however, was far too bewildered to notice such unwarrant- ableness — even let him take her little trembling fingers, hardly knowing that she did so, or, if knowing, feeling it no wonder. What indeed could be a wonder since Ar- thur had come back ?" 144 lisabee's love story. " Lisabee," he said, as calmly as one says hoAV d'ye do, *'can you forgive me for seeking you?" Lisabee smiled through her tears, every tender word of her lover's dropping as a veritable pearl into the deepest depths of that rosy-red little chalice, her heart. "Is it so very wrong, then?" she whis- pered. '' Nothino' else could be half so wronir. Shall I tell you why? Because, when you know what leads me here to-night, when you hear from my lips the words you can never, never forget, I must go away, perhaps to see you no more. Yfill there be peace for either of us after that ? Forgetfulness for you? No remorse for me? Can two people love each other, and loving each other be parted by a life, a world, a lisabee's love story. 145 despair, yet be happy? We love each other — we loved at first meeting, we shall love if we are separated for years — we shall love no other with such love if we are separated till death. Speak, Lisabee, say ' Arthur, I love you ; then you will belong to me, now — always — till we die." " Hush ! — you frighten me. I hardly know you well enough to say that — you ought not to have come here." '^ You are afraid to confess the truth?" he said, with a little under-sarcasm, though it was such a sarcasm as any woman would love to hear. '' Foolish child ! Do I not know it too Avell already ? Why, Lisabee, I could hardly know it better did you tell me fifty times. Yet I am leaving you ] let me hear it once from your lips; and then — VOL. I. L 146 lisabee's love story. and then — what matters how far I go — how long I remain away?'^ " But," reasoned Lisabee, thnidly, " have you — have you thought how unhappy I shall be?" He was silent for some minutes, and in the dusky light she could not see how sor- rowful her words and the tone of them made him. The look passed away quickly as it came. " Lisabee — my Lisabee, when I said yes- terday that I gave you my youth, I used no extravagant expression. For me, there will be no more springs, or careless days, or happy hopes — but one — that one almost too far and too impossible to help me much. I know that in speaking to you of love I commit an act of supreme selfishness, for which I shall never sufficiently reproach LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 147 myself, but I could not resist the tempta- tion. And oil! why should I resist it after all ? Is life so happy and so good that we can forego a true love? Is there another Lisabee in the world that I should choose, and not make you mine? There is no other Lisabee — there is no other Arthur. We must love each other, whether we will or no, and loving once, love always." He had never relinquished her trembling little hands, and now would fain have raised them to his lips. She drew back with startled, childlike shyness. '' I don't know whether I ought to listen to you. I fear I ought not; and I — I hardly understand you yet. Let us go home," she said. " You hardly understand me ! Oh, L 2 14S lisabee's love story. Lisabee, I will sa}^ it plainer then ! To me there is only Lisabee in the world ; to you only Arthur ; yet we must live apart, Heaven alone knows how long/' "What shall I do?" she cried, half shrinking from him. " Why did you come, oh, Arthur !" Again he tried to raise her hands to his lips, and this time they were not with- drawn. She felt in such need of kindness, poor child; she realized so fully the fact of her future loneliness, the fact of her love for him. " Why did I come ? Because I could not lose you at any cost; and perhaps, oh, Lisabee, hope for it, pray for it, perhaps a day may come, and come soon, when I may redeem my great selfishness. Why, I think lisabee's love story. 149 we should be so happy together that a month, a week, nay, a single day would repay the long waiting." A great tear fell on his hand. ^' Come to my heart," he whispered; *4f never again, come now, and be com- forted, my soul's wife, my dove, my darling. Oh, do not cry — unless for joy. Have we not found each other, and hav- ing found each other, can never, never, be wholly parted? Look up, smile, touch my lips with your lips, and let that kiss marry us in the sight of Heaven and the stars." They kissed each other, as the first man and woman may have kissed thousands of years ago, heart to heart, lip to lip, hands entwined. There is more than lovers' meaning in such a kiss, a kiss solemn, 150 lisabee's love story. and sweet, and prophetic, as the first rain- bow linking the strong heavens to the weak earth. '' We have a moment for love," said Arthur. " Is not that enough for to-day ? A time may come ere long when you shall be my wife, I your husband. Let us say good-bye joyfully, since, come what may, we know that nothing can stand in the way of our love. Tell me that you love me, that you will wait for me." "I love you, Arthur," exclaimed the young girl, half sobbing, whilst his kisses fell thick and fast on her soft hair. " I love you, Arthur, but oh, can you, will you not tell me when you will come again .'' He drew a short, deep breath, and threw his arms around her. LISABEE S LOVE STOHY. 151 " Perhaps in a week, perhaps in a year, perhaps never," he cried, desperately, and then he put her away with firm gentleness. In another moment he had mounted his horse and was riding towards the town. Lisabee gave a great childlike sob, and stood still, asking herself if indeed it were herself, Lisabee, William Plumtree's daughter. She counted the beats of his horse's feet in the distance, she said to her- self, " Only a minute ago he was here, ' saying this or that. It must be real." Standing thus, she was startled by the sound of a quick little trot close at hand, and, on looking round sharply, beheld Mrs. Raven's Smy. He greeted her in an ex- cited manner, but Lisabee, noticing nothing of this, dashed past him, nor stopped to take breath till she had reached her little 152 lisabee's love story. starlit bedroom overlooking the walnut- trees. Then she paused to ask herself the momentous question, "How could she tell her love story to her sisters? How could she keep it secret?" 153 CHAPTER IX. 11 /I' A HAL A, after liaving cleaned, up the kitchen, and placed a savoury little mess of milk broth on the hob, proceeded to set out the supper. There was an apple tart, there was a cold meat dumpling, there was beer of mild quality, there was tea equally mild ; for everything in Mr. Raven's house partook of this quality of mildness in a wonderful degree. Mahala looked affectionately at the apple tart, thinking of her own liking for the same, and sentimentally at the milk broth, thinking how Smy would say, " You shouldn't make extras for me, Mahala, you shouldn't," 154 lisabee's love stouy. and enjoy it all the while. Then she sat clown, awaiting her companion with plea- sant anticipations of the meal. Alas! when did an expected happiness equal the expectation of it? Smy came in late, came in brisker than ever, came in perturbed, and off his appetite. The steam of the beloved potage hardly seemed to reach his understanding ; the appearance of the cold meat dumpling and glass of beer therewith, fell flat, and without effect. " Have you a touch of the rheumatics, Smy?" asked Mahala, feelingly. *' No, Mahala," replied Smy, as if for once that feelins; voice could not touch him. "Corns?" again said Mahala, with in- creased tenderness. " No, Mahala," replied Smy, and then lisabee's love stoky. 155 he dropped his knife Avith a spasmodic little jerk, saying — " I can't, MahaLa, I can't." Mahala dropped her knife and fork also, and began to rub one eye with her apron. " Oh ! Smy, what is it, Smy ? don't let it be unbeknown to me, anyhow, Smy; don't keep me in suspense, Smy, whatever you do; I can't abear it, Smy." Thus appealed to, Smy wiped his fore- head, edged himself to the very brim of his chair, laid hold of his legs as if they were little marauding boys running away against his will, and groaned out — "As true as I'm a-sittin' here, Miss Lisabee ha' got a young man !" Somehow this piece of news had a diiFe- rent effect upon Mahala from what might have been expected. It made her clasp her 150 lisabke's love story. hands rather jauntily across the place where she supposed her heart to be, it made her smile quite in a youthful manner with her mouth, and Aveep in quite a childlike man- ner with her eyes. She leaned, too, a little to the left of her chair, thus bringing the black silk cap within reach of Smy's shoulder, and she sighed as she was only accustomed to sigh on Christmas clays, when the elderberry wine was warming on the fire, and the well-known words of ten- derness Avere warming the heart of Smy. Smy could not remain unconscious of this mood, but as it was not Christmas day, and as there was no elderberry wine in prospect, he felt at a loss how to act. True gallantry, however, is an instinct that ever becomes equal to a precedent. *' Ah, Mahala," he said, as he gave her a lisabee's love story. 157 little nuclge, half amatory, half deprecating, "love is our mortal Inimy, next to the father of lies. Have nau'n to do with him, Mahala, he's wenom, he's out-streperous, he's pison ! When two people have fre- quented together, and chapel- went together, and talked comfortable-like together, let the man say, says he, ' I've a likin' for you, my dear;' and let the woman say, says she, ' The same to you, and name the day.' (I'm meanin' no deludins that's personal, Mahala, ^ or anything imprudent), and then the thing's gone and done straight-forward like, and no one has a word to say agin' it. But love, Mahala, is like the wurrums in my cabbage-beds; they is picked out and throv^m avv^ay, they is stifled with ashes and tobakker smoke, they is trodden under foot, and yet they is thrivin'." 158 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. "They is," echoed Mahala. "They is; and oh ! Mr. Tummus, they prevent us from thinkin' on another world! That's the misery on 'em, Mr. Tummus, they rejoice our poor sinful hearts to the dis- wantage of our souls." Whether Mahala meant love or the worms we know not; but Smy seemed to understand her drift plainly enough, and edo:ed a little nearer. "Yes, they rejoice our heart; they is sweet," he said; "but they isn't durable, Mahala. The wurrums become butterflies, and take themselves off, and love is as light as the dust arter cinder-siftins. Set no store by the one or t'other, Mahala, for they is partakers of earth's corruption." Mahala showed the whites of her eyes, crossed her hands on her bosom, drew a lisabee's love story. 159 deep breath of edification, and made answer — '' Oh ! Smy, you do talk beautiful, to be sure — it's regular expoundin', every AYord on it." A good deal of beating about the bush intervened between the bare mention of Lisabee's love story in the drift, and its ultimate narration. After all, no love story is so interesting as our own, and, indeed, is only interesting in so far as it recalls . or anticipates our own. How can it be otherwise? Frail as the pinnaces may have been that bore us towards the Hy- perborean shore, short as our sojourn, disastrous as our wreck, we still cast sympathetic looks towards our fellows, who sail under the same rosy flag, bound to the same enticing, fallacious goal. IGO lisabee's love story. So Mahala and Smy hugged tliis little secret meeting of Lisabee and her lover to their hearts, principally because it afforded them scope for sentimentalizing; and the thin beer tasted as nectar, and the meat- dumpling as ambrosia, and the milk-broth as golden hippocrene. "Missus must know it, in course?" said Mahala, Avhen the viands had been duly patronized (no class of people feed more readily than the mildly-methodistical-mousy genus). ^'Missus will act a mother's part to Miss Lisabee, and I'm sure you and I shall not be behinden for prayers." Smy considered a little, and then added, not without reluctance — " I'll leave it to vou, Mahala. A woman is a woman, and iittiner to interfere with all light jobs, whether they be lovers' lisabee's love story. 161 rondeywliews, or puttin' on plasters, or makin' apple-puddins — them's women's wo- cations; and you do as you please, Mahala.'* Maliala pleased to make a pretty little pastoral of the whole affair for her mis- tress, who required not only a dozen ablative absolutes, but the revolutions of Saturn as well, to calm her down. Finally, Mrs. Raven drew poetical inspirations from the story, and even composed a couple of verses before going to sleep, one of which * commenced with " Oh ! heed him not, de- luded maid!" and ended with "Love is a snare by Satan laid." The next morning, having armed herself with these said verses, and no ordinary amount of rhetoric ready for use, the good soul betook her way to Sycamore Farm. She took a great and kindly interest in the VOL. I. M 1G2 lisabee's love stouy. sisters, and entertained a pious and well- authenticated horror ol" young men who made clandestine appointments with mo- therless girls. Who could tell but that this young Leebridge was a kind of gilded hero, such as one reads of in novels ? Who could tell what his intentions were towards poor dear pretty Lisabee ? And then, though the Pattersons knew him, and called him their friend, it was not likely that they understood the workings of his secret heart. No ; she must do her duty by Lisabee, as Lisabee's mother would have done. She must give the only good advice to be given, which advice she had summed up in her verses. Mrs. Raven had, however, reckoned without her host. As she drew near the armhouse gate, Greta met her, and dis- LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 163 closed the story of Arthur's love-making; moreover declared herself bound to Jordan Villa for the express purpose of asking advice. This put a wholly different colour on the matter. Mrs. Kaven could afford to hear praises of Arthur, praises of Arthur's prospects, praises of everything relating to him, since such confidence was given voluntarily. She smiled now, begged her congratulations to Miss Lisabee, even kept back her admonitory verses, and for- bore more than one or two mild injunctions of caution. Both the younger and the elder lady decided at all events to keep the matter secret for the present. And after this great excitement among the women, all went on in the old way at Nettlested. The girls talked of Arthur and all that was Artur's has they M 2 104 lisabee's love story. worked away at music, and German exer- cises, and flower-painting; and with talks of him and numberless romances built on the foundation of little Lisabee's love story, time passed pleasantly at Sycamore Farm. BOOK 11. THE VIOLINIST OF VIENNA. *' A very foolish, fond old man." Leak. 167 CHAPTER I. • TTOW beautiful is early summer-time in Yiemia! The city ''swims in ver- dure, beautiful ;" every street is a picture, every chestnut- alley blooms with children's faces and ladies' silks, every park and garden resounds with the mazy waltz and inspiriting march. No one seems busy except on pleasure; no one needs other stimulants to pleasure than the intoxicating softness of the southern air and the full voluptuousness of the southern sky. At sunrise, luxurious sleepers are awakened by processions of peasants, who chant litanies to the Virgin and all good saints, implor- ICS lisabee's love story. ing blessings on the crops after this fashion — " Heilige Maria ! Ach, bitt fiir uns den lieben Gott, Das er die Plag' der Hungersnoth Von unserm Land abwende ; Durcli Hegen und durcli Sonnenscbein, Den Erde-Friicbten das Gedeiben Zu unserer Nahrung sende !" There is never a cloud in the heavens and never a hush in the bright, sparkling stream of human life. The Lichtenstein Gardens are crowded till one hardly dis- tinguishes the rich blossoms of exotics from the skirts of the ladies. On the broad smooth Glacis the children of the poor and the contemplative priests have it all to themselves ; but tlie lovely park of Schon- brunn, with its clipped avenues and white and green pavilion, is thronged with lilSABEE's LOVE STORY. 169 family parties of the middle classes. Every one dines at tliree o'clock, and goes into the gardens or the country till the theatres open. You see gay streams of omnibuses and carriages issue from each of the city gates towards the Prater or the wooded hills of the Wiener Wald or Schonbrunn. You cannot possibly stay at home when all the world is amusing itself, and feel an indescribable longing for lilac boughs and linden-trees, iced coffee and Strauss's band. 'No one seems of use in the world but the omnibus driver and fiacre proprietor. You hardly care for the quiet, cool intellec- tuality of Prince Eugene's Picture Gallery, or the Imperial Librar}^, or the delightful art-treasures of the Archduke Karl. You go into no churches but at mass- time, and then to dream rather than pray. You feel 170 LISABEE S LOVE STOllY. hardly a need of prayers where life and the world seem so delicious, are willing to drink both like a draught of sparkling wine, and content to wait for deeper passions and feel- ino;s. Then at ni^^ht to wander amid the sweet-scented boscage of the Prater ; to see the pine-torches light up fairy dells, and dark-eyed, bright- cheeked ladies ; to catch glimpses of the gleaming city beyond, and think of all the witching influences • that await there; to lounge upon the Graben, that sparkles and smiles Avith a thousand welcomes ; to choose heUYeen Faust at the Imperial Theatre, or Dei^ Freischutz at the Grand Opera; to find friendly faces and kindly greetings wherever you go ; to feel that you are but one wave of a joyous current of human life; to indulge in the temperate yet sufficing enjoyment of the lisabee's love story. 171 hour — all tliis is part of Vienna, and of tlie mood that Vienna calls forth. Perforce you must be Austrian whilst in Vienna. Whether you will or no, you become Epicurean for the nonce. Exactly three weeks after Arthur Lee- bridge's passionate declaration of love to Lisabee, he formed one of a gay party in the Austrian capital. The time is evening; the place is the Prater — that park of parks, that wood of woods, that pleasaunce of all other pleasaunces in the world, of which the Viennese heart is so proud. Here you may lose yourself in old- world forest; here you may startle the fawn from its feed ; here you may wander in cool islets circled by the Danube, and chronicled in history. Or, if you seek gaiety, and the society of your fellows, only step into the 172 lisabee's love story. 02:>era sun-lit lawns near the entrance gates, and you have music, flashes of carriage and cavalcade, lovely laughing girls of the Yiennese type, svelte, piquante, dark-eyed, shelly-pink of complexion — fancifully- dressed children at play, officers in splendid miiforms, puppet-shows, minor theatres, concerts, dance, song — in fine, every form and fashion of amusement culled for a people who live more than any other j?cz^r samuser. Arthur Leebridge was half German, or rather half Austrian, at heart; he w^as of too haughty and brilliant a nature for a Wirtemberger, not stolid or severely prac- tical enough for a Hanoverian or Bre- menser. "With the proud, pleasure-loving, sensuous, polished Austrians he felt at home and never at a disadvantage, possess- LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 1 73 ingJList those intellectual and social quali- ties that go far to form a society reputation in Vienna. Moreover, he was a musician ; and freely threw into his music all the passion and depth of his nature, so studi- ously concealed at other times. And music is alike the unalloyed gold of Austrian en- joyment and Austrian temperament. The party of which Arthur Leebridge formed a member were bent Avholly upon amusement, and had chosen the gayest, restaurant of the gayest alley, in order to watch the crowds and hear the music. It was a gala day, when all Vienna goes to the Prater, from the handsome young emperor and his still handsomer wife, to the poorest little city mechanic. Of Arthur's friends, we must say a word or two. They were — Dr. Edouard Zillner, 174 lisabef/s love story. Imperial Councillor; his wife, Imperial Councilloress ; their sons, Drs. Albin and Carl ; and their daughter, Aclelheid. Dr. Zillner was a distinguished-looking man of seventy-two ; had been for years private physician to the great Austrian diplomat. Prince , and was a rigid aristocrat in habit, word, and tone of thought. He naturally entertained a su- preme contempt for English politics and politicians, but frankly confessed to his liking for Englishmen and Englishwomen, and delighted in nothing so much as a sly joke with them about Kossuth and Italian patriots. In his capacity of physician he stood iirst among all others in Vienna ; and though too proud to be vain, he was proud enough to maintain his position. You often saw in his face the conscious- LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 175 ness, " I am Dr. Edouard Zillner ;" you never read there the thought, " No one else can be so good as Dr. Edouard Zillner." His wife, like the wives of most clever men, admired his intellectual attainments, as peasants admire books they cannot read. She sat at home knitting stockings with the utmost content whilst her husband was dining off silver in the company of princes and princesses of the House of Hapsburg; and though well read in Goethe and. French classics, she considered woman's sphere bound by the horizon of home. Adelheid, her daughter, had attained the age of thirty without being married ; and whilst she was a perfect housewife, lived upon music and the sweetness of a poetic imagination. She possessed one of those passive, patient natures that become ro- 176 lisabee's love story. mantic under sad and solitary circum- stances, but are ordinary enough Avlien left to ordinary influences. Her great happi- ness lay in the enjoyment of a fine musical taste, and her chief religion was duty to her parents. Dr. Albin, the elder son, was an intellec- tual, polished, melancholy man, who had lost a young wife three years before, and had mourned his loss in look, word, and thought ever since. He mixed in society simply because he hated eccentricity ; but from the day that his wife died, he had lived as the blind or deaf man lives, miss- ing the most exquisite of senses at all times, finding nothing by way of compensation. Even his two children seemed less dear to him than they had done during their mother's Kfetime, since they were part of lisabee's love story. 177 her, yet not herself. Every week he visited her tomb, and with every visit his grief was renewed. Yet he possessed a strong, clear intellect, and a heart full of geniality. Carl was the youngest of the family, and one of those men who never lose their boyish pet names, their boyish freshness, and their boyish amiabilities. With girlish, pink cheeks, fiery blue eyes, light flowing hair, and a slender, white throat, Carl Zillner looked as if he could never grow grey or grave or graceless. He had no character to speak of, though no one ever exercised a more sunny, wholesome, balmy influence upon those around him than himself. Without the pretension or presumption of any wisdom or philosophy, he practised the truest wisdom and the most infallible philosophy in every act, word, and thought VOL. I. N 17S lisabee's love story. of his life — namely, he never grumbled. Without intellect of extraordinary compass, without any extraordinary quality, in fact, he was gifted with that without which all powers and qualities are almost useless, sometimes worse than useless. In plain words, he had genius — not the genius of creation, of discovery, of generalization, but the genius of living. He was an artist. To him life was an art to be cherished, developed, and beautified. Carl and Arthur had been students to- gether at Heidelberg, and were now on the point of cementing an early friendship by still closer and infinitely more serious ties. They were about to become partners in commerce. It would have been easy to pass an even- ing pleasantly with such a family group lisabee's love story. 179 under any circumstances; but tliis par- ticular day, at the Prater, had charms against the dullest of companions. One needed indeed no adjuncts to enjoyment beyond those of the exquisite nature and joyous life flooding it, as unmixed wine in patera dedicated to Bacchus. The air was an intoxication in itself, being full of golden sunshine and warm with voluptuous summer ; the sky was intense, harmonious, and soft as the eye of a woman in love; every leaf lay on its stem, perfect, and joyful in its perfectness, as the first leaf that opened in Eden. Not a cloud, not a withered petal, not a sad face, dis- turbed the pervading beauty of life — life sen- suous, life earthly, yet harmless and happy ! All Germans have the art of being happy, are almost childlike indeed in N 2 180 lisabee's love stort. being happy upon so little ; but the gift is one to be envied. AVe keep younger, wiser, better when able to smile at trifles and clap our hands at nothing as the children do. Dr. Zillner became a boy whenever he passed through the great gates dividing the Prater from the suburbs; indeed, he felt almost a boy as soon as he caught glimpses of the mounted gendarmes who kept order there. Delightful it was to see his eyes sparkle, not into one but into a hundred smiles, as he watched Punch and Judy in a puppet theatre — no less delightful to see him fill his cup of iced coffee with sugar to the brim — as if sugar only tasted like sugar at the Prater. To-night, as the Doctor took up the twelfth lump in his white jewelled fingers, he turned to Arthur liCebridgc with a little lisabee's love story. 181 chuckle of conceit — not personal, but na- tional. " Leebridge," he said, " marry a German wife and make one of us. We like you; we will open our arms to you — always provided that you don't praise Palmerston.'^ Arthur laughed; but the laugh was suc- ceeded by the most anxious of anxious looks, "Marry a German wife? That were not so difficult, seeing that of all cities in the world Vienna is the one for pretty women. But, Dr. Zillner, if I were married already ?" He spoke almost jestingly, yet it was easy to see that something hard and bitter lay beneath the superficial lightness. Adelheid looked serious and inquisitive. The Mamma dropped her roll with an ex- clamation. Dr. Zillner and his elder son JS2 lisabke's love story. accepted the words as they were meant. Carl huinincd an old song with embarrass- ment. " AYell, that w^ould be a little hindrance, to say the least of it; but seriously speak- ing, Leebridge, you're the only Englishman I know who can appreciate us and enter into our tone of thought ; and a German wife would do all the remaining reforma- tion necessary " " Papa," said Adelheid, " you put out of the question all the English qualities so superior to our own ! Now, were you an English husband you would spend every evening at home reading to Mamma and myself; and as to other domestic habits, I'm sure the English are superior " " My little girl, you know nothing about it. We, in Austria support the natural and lisabee's love story. 183 only stable plan of tlie world — that is, that the man is the patriarchal head of his house and family, and the woman the beautiful and retiring Eve. When you are married, 3^ou will think as I do, and not wish to be a Bettina, or a bluestocking. Such things do very well for democratic England, but not for aristocratic Austria. Uphold me. Lee- bridge, please, against my womankind." ''Not I," rejoined Arthur; "I'm a German only skin-deep, Herr Doctor, and * am English to the marrow of my bones. I side mth the Fraulein Adelheid." '' And I with Mr. Leebridge," interrupted the old lady, who delighted in a little imaginative domestic mutiny. " Bring us an English wife, Mr. Leebridge, that German husbands may take a lesson from you." Meantime the scene had reached its cul- 184 lisabee's love story. minating point of gaiety. Now Dr. Zillncr raised his hat to the Emperor as he drove past in a showy curricle drawn by six white horses, having postillions in orange-coloured liveries ; now it w^as Prince Max in white uniform and plumed helmet who com- manded a pleasantly-yielded obeisance ; now the Lichtenstein equipage attracted atten- tion, with its pretty ladies in rainbow- coloured silks, and footmen in scarlet, and ilomng scarfs ; now a carriage full of noble Esterhazys dashed by; now an English dog- cart; now a glittering cavalcade of starred officers and bright-cheeked girls; now a Hungarian noble, with his servants in hunting-dress, plumed and booted; now a party of Polish lancers. There was no demonstration of loyalty, no obsequious ad- miration of aristocratic pomp, but greeting lisabee's love story. 185 passed between Emperor and subject as between gentleman and gentleman ; and from more than one court carriage came friendly smiles and nods to the Zillner group. By and by, the concert ceased, and then the little party rose to mix in the crowd. They skirted the numerous musical restau- rants to their left, left the grand alley and its gorgeousness behind, and after threading a tortuous w^ay among booths, stalls, and * wooden theatres, found themselves in the very heart of the Wlirstl, or People's Prater. The people are grown-up children where they seek amusement, and their comus is like that of the early Dorians, without stately cothurnus, or artistic mask, or rigid chorus ; all is grotesque, homely, and extra- 1S6 lisabee's love stoiiy. vagant — but tins same comus lias cliarms for the real lover of his kind beyond the solemn ditbyrambics and pagentried pomps of per- fected taste. We need not smear our faces with wine-lees, or distort our mouths with unnatural grimaces in order to enjoy such a scene; it is full of enjoyment nevertheless. In the AYlirstl Prater v/ere pictures for Teniers and subjects for Beranger. Here, you saw benches and tables surrounded by beer-drinkers who had provided themselves with black bread from home, and only in- dulged in a mug of beer and a kreutzerworth of cheese, the latter being carried round by loud-crying costermongers. There your ears were assailed with hilarious peals of laughter occasioned by the marvellous feats of an electrifying juggler, or the roars of applause drawn forth by little comedies lisabee's love story. 187 acted between trios of men and women on a rude stage. Or yori came suddenly upon a wooden lion upon wliicli excitement-loving individuals were whirled round to the quickest of tunes. Fire-tricks, dog-tricks, juggling, merry-go-rounds, murder songs, all these went on merrily, admired and wondered at by hundreds of eager faces, and accompanied by hundreds of musical instruments — we won't say of what delicacy of tone — for all shortcomings were made up' by heartiness of execution. Arthur Leebridge had no love for the people; but he loved himself and liked a feeling of superiority that arose from the contrast. He had too much of an Aus- trian's haughtiness towards inferiors, and whilst smiling upon this amusement from the height of his own intellectual and moral 1S8 lisabee's love story. supremacy, looked upon tliem much as we used to look upon negro slaves. Adelheid, who walked beside him, seemed to read his thoughts. ** Papa tcill always bring us here, " she said ; ''I cannot imagine why. I assure you, Mr. Leebridge, that he will spend hours in watching the tricks of a juggler who is only so far a juggler that he draws kreutzers from poor people's pockets. And, oh! how their cheese and tobacco smell! Do let us come away." Arthur, however, seemed on a sudden rooted to the spot. Adelheid was unwilling to accuse him of ungallantry, but he had grown strangely absent during the latter part of her sentence, and now seemed entirely unconscious of her presence. She was silent till the mood passed. ltsabee's love story. 189 By and by, he said, in the voice of one waking from a dream — ^' Dear Fraulein Zillner, forgive me for my rudeness. I heard your remark, but was thinking of something else. Will you allow me to procure a light for my cigar, and then I will make up for former remissness ?" She smiled assent, and he sprang towards a little raised platform near where a trio of wretchedly clad musicians were regaling, themselves upon beer and black bread between the performances. He addressed the oldest and poorest-looking of them, a white-haired, shrivelled violinist, who flushed and trembled under his gaze. Having obtained a light, Arthur said, as if carelessly — " So, Yersette, you have come to this ?" 190 lisabee's love story. The old man did not look up, but mur- mured an agitated word or two. Arthur stooped down. "Paul Yersette," lie whispered in his ear, and his words had a cold threat in them, "it is the fruit of your own folly. Again, and for the last time, I offer 3^ou money; take my advice and accept it." " Never, Arthur Leebridge, if I die of starvation." " As you please, but I have other things to talk to you of. Where are you living?" A frightened, almost wild look came to the violinist's eyes. He answered agi- tatedly — " I live at no place long together, but will sup at the Stork — you remember, the j)lace near the Peterkirche." ltsabee's love stoe,y. 191 " How am I to know that you will not play me false? Tell me wliere you live?" Just then, and luckily for the old man's embarrassment, he was called upon to plav, Arthur muttered an ejaculation of annoy- ance, and returned quickly as he had come. Adelheid waited for him with easfer eyes. She looked upon the society of the intellectual young Englishman as the greatest boon, especially as she was. past marrying, had aspirations for literary and artistic culture, and was a born musician. Arthur liked all women who were not dull, and entered gaily into conversation with her, praised her tastes, asked musical information, and took the shortest and pleasantest road to her good opinions. 192 lisabee's love story. Soon the scene changed. Shadows deepened around wood, and lawn, and alley; the brilliant lights of scattered or- chestras went out one by one ; the dusk and glitter of cavalcades ceased in the open avenues. As fragments of steel attracted by a magnet, the great crowd that had lately been so scattered were now collected into a small focus, and elsewhere all was still. It was a grand fireworks night, the first of the season, and who is ever absent Irom fireworks in the Prater ? The gaily dressed ladies flocked to the half-guinea stalls; the tired musicians and jugglers, after having amused so many, permitted them- selves a little amusement; the thousands and hundreds of thousands of spectators made a phalanx in front of the fireworks ; the dark alleys were lighted up by pine- LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 193 torches, and tlie great extravagant sight commenced. Arthur Leebridge cared less for mere sensuous enjoyments than intellectual ones. He appreciated both however as few men do, and to-night felt just in that frame of mind when any excitement was welcome. His meeting with the violinist, Paul Versette, though a surprise, had not been wholly a shock to him ; he looked rather for good than for evil from it. The night was superb, the fireworks were beyond praise, and Adelheid, though past girlhood and no beauty, might, even to a fastidious man, be companionable. He could afford to enjoy himself under these circum- stances. "Fraulein," he said, "shall I tell you why you Austrians have all the poetry, and VOL. I. o 194 lisabee's love story. passion, and inspirations of Italy, and yet so few poets ?^' "But no, Mr. Leebridge," and Adelheid began counting the poets on her fingers, " we have Grillparzer for our Shakespeare, and oh, so many lesser men than he " "Still, in comparison with one's own, with those of every other great nation, you must admit them to be few. And then they positively lose by comparison with even those of the smallest of German kingdoms! "Wirtemberg has her Schiller, her Uhlan d, her great spirits, not to be numbered. Frankfort, her Goethe; but I need not particularize facts which are known far better to yourself. You are the greatest living poets in all but ex- pression." " I hardly understand you," said Adel- LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 195 held, in doubt as to the favour or disfavour of his speech. " I mean this : your wonderful faculty, almost sixth sense, of music; your eager appreciation of all beauty, whether of art or of nature; your passionate character; your joyous, intoxicating summers; your indolent, pleasurable manner of living ; all these circumstances go far to counteract each other. That is to say, the very over- poetry of your nature prevents you from being great poets. You are too happy, too much given to enjoyment, too passive in ac- cepting impressions, to yield to that long, solitary, and necessary probation of thought by which alone Goethe was Goethe, or by which alone every poet is a poet." " But, Mr. Leebridge, Goethe of all Ger- mans was the most Austrian. Do you o 2 196 lisbaee's love story. remember his youth, find how wild it was? Do you remember his love stories of all periods, and his poor Frederikas and Lilies?'^ " Ah ! and do you forget the reason of this unhappi-ness and claim to sympathy? Simply because Goethe being Goethe, was as the fire of that prophet's altar Avhich devoured the fire of the other altars. Had he been capable of loving as he was loved, think you we should have had such a calm, grand life, such a world of thought ? No, Friiulein Adelheid, the lesser altars are fed from the high altar, and their fire dies out, but the great flames from which they were kindled, blaze brighter and brighter by every out-giving. Genius must suffer, it is true, but genius also causes to suffer, and the greatest genius is, or seems to be, the coldest." lisabee's love story. 197 " I won't, I can't believe that you speak earnestly," said Aclelheid with a little coquetry; "why, Mr. Leebridge, Goethe was faUing in love his whole life long. He says that without love the world were not the world, Rome were not Eoine; he says " " He says, ' What does not charm is dead^^ '^ Arthur put in, smiling ; " those little words, mein Fraulein, describe Goethe to you better than entire volumes. " And he says, or rather he causes Wilhelm Meis- ter to say to Natalie — you remember the passage, no doubt — ' Have you ever loved?' ' Never — or always^'' she answers. Trust me, dear Fraulein, Goethe under- stood the word never as well as you and I do ; but the word always remained as much of a mystery to him as the Egyptian hiero- 198 lisabee's love story. glyphics to our forefathers. Well, isn't it necessary for some of us to be Goethes and some Frederikas, though the last have the hardest fate?" " German women don't think so," Adel- heid replied. " That is because women are angels all the world over," said Arthur, " and never so much so as when we deceive them." Adelheid smiled and sighed softly. She thought it must be very sweet to have the love of Goethe or of Arthur Leebridge, at any cost, and wondered, as is the way of simple, sensitive women, why Heaven had not sent love to the hearts most needing it. Why was she left among hundreds of others to dream of love only? The lot of Goethe's Fredcrika was more preferable than a dead level of neglect. Still, Adel- lisabee's love story. 199 lieid felt that her thirty years and plain features were not without their compensa- tions. Arthur could freely walk by her side, talk to her on tender themes, confide his inmost thoughts on books and the world. Had she been ten years younger, and ten times less ugly, this privilege could not possibly have been hers, so strict and implacable is the creed of Viennese etiquette. About ten o'clock the crowning spleu; dour of fireworks came to an end ; the pine- torches flickered out one by one ; the Jager- zeile was crowded with carriages, and the Zillner family returned home. Arthur was pressed on all sides to join the family supper, but excused himself. Drawing Carl aside, he whispered — '' Chance has done more for me than aU 200 lisabee's love story. my inquiries at passport and police-offices. I have found Yersette at last." " The violinist !'^ exclaimed Carl, eagerly. ^' None other." " How glad I am ! you will of course learn the truth now. Mein Lieber, accept my congratulations." " Wait and see if there be occasion for any," Arthur answered, with a somewhat foreboding face; then the two friends parted, Carl to return home, Arthur to jump into the first fiacre that oiFered, and drive smftly towards glorious old St. Stefan's. 201 CHAPTER II. nPHE Gast-zimmer or coffee-room of the Stork was not an inviting place. Too mucli of beeriness, too much of smoki- ness, too much of talkativeness pervaded every corner of it; and Arthur Leebridge groped his way amid the closely-set tables with evident fastidiousness and disgust. He was slow in finding the violinist. The old man had sought the most crowded spot, the better to conceal a fact unplea- sant to waiters in general — namely, that he required nothing to eat. Circumstances favoured him to-night, and beyond one very youthful waiter egregiously eager for 202 lisabee's love story. ilrink-money, no one had the politeness to ask his wishes. Arthur was no sooner seated than he rapped the table loudly, ordered wine, salad, and mushroom omelette for two, called for cigars, and having oiFered one in vain to his companion, proceeded to enjoy his own whilst awaiting supj^er. The face of the violinist was a curious study just then. He evidently suffered from intense" hunger, had secluded himself because he had no money wherewithal to procure a glass of beer, and felt quite aware that nothing beyond a slice of black bread and a cup of bad coffee awaited him at home. Yet, so proud was his nature, and so bitter his heart against Arthur Lee- bridge, that he could not make up his mind to accept a meal from him. When lisabee's love story. 203 the savoury dishes came to table^ and the hopeful waiter (who hope so much as waiters?) placed a cover before each, Arthur drew quickly to table; but the old man only pricked his ears in a pointer- like Avay, and then leaned back in his chair rigid and self-satisfied. '^Why don't you eat?" asked Arthur, pushing the dishes towards him. "Eat, Versette — youVe had a hard night's work of it, and must be hungry." • The violinist leaned forward a little, so as to let the steam of the viands come within reach of his nostrils — that, at least, did not compromise his dignity. " I'm not hungry enough to eat — with you^'' he said, and then resumed his old position. " Nonsense, Yersette ; were I hungry, 204 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. I would eat with the very arch-fiend himself. Come — the dishes are good, the wine is refreshing — eat." " Not with you." Arthur uttered an ejaculation of disdain, and finished his supper in silence. When the table was cleared, the face of the violinist cleared also ; the almost wolfish expression passed from his eyes, the self- imposed rigidity of purpose from his mouth; he grew natural, unrestrained, cheerful even. Only a hungry man knows what a hungry man suffers, and, smile as we may, Paul Yersette had suffered mar- tyrdom during the last quarter of an hour. With the dishes, however, vanished alike his martyrdom and the occasion of it. "How came you to Vienna?" he asked of Arthur, inquisitively. lisabee's love story. 205 "How came you to Vienna?" retorted Arthur. "Because I am a little palsied, and no longer play well enough for theatre orches- tras. I couldn't even give satisfaction at such a place as Heilbronn ; but here in the Prater any kind of playing gets listened to.'' "And paid for?" "Yes, and paid for. I get seventy kreutzers on fireworks' nights, and thirty at other times, besides odd jobs at country folks' weddings, fairs, and such places." "Then, as you are paid, why in the world don't you afford yourself a plateful of soup, and not go to bed starving?" " That is my own affair," replied the violinist with dignity. " As you please, but at any and every 206 lisabee's love story. time you are welcome to apply to me. I would rather you should do so, for I can afford to keep you from beggary; if you won't be helped, it is no fault of mine. You ask me why I have come to Vienna ! Because I am no longer a clerk, but have embarked my capital in a manufactory with Herr Carl Zillner. My father has been dead two years, and left me well off. Again I tell you, don't starve, unless starvation is agreeable to you." Versette had been engaged during the last few minutes in playing childishly with a great blot of spilled wine on the table, and then raising the moistened fingers to his lips. Whether this was done uncon- sciously, or whether such fleeting taste were agreeable, we don't know. On hear- ing Arthur's last words, he desisted. lisabee's ].ove story. 207 " You forget that I had a daughter named Bertha," he said, with ahnost im- becile simplicity. Arthur leaned forward eagerly. "Then it is true,'* he whispered; "Ber- tha died at Heidelberg?" The violinist did not raise his eyes, but repeated the words with strange emotion. "Bertha died at Heidelberg — it is true- " And the child too?" Yersette's eyes gleamed for a moment with hate, joy, pride — all expressions end- ing, however, in a more tender, more child- like one — namely, that of affection. . He seemed to see some beloved darling of his earlier life — to hear some little voice prattling near — to feel some tiny hands clasped round his neck. When the look 208 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. of love passed, lie grew strangely nervous and agitated. ''Were the child living it wouldn't be yours," he hissed rather than whispered; " you left it to starve — you cared nothing for its poor mother — you never looked upon its dear face — you don't even know its name " " The child is dead, then — poor Bertha's baby?" The violinist made no answer, but bowed his head assentingly. Arthur laid his hand on the old man's shoulder, and looked into his face with uncontrollable eagerness. "Do you speak truth to me, Versette?" he said. " Dead," echoed the violinist, solemnly — " dead— dead." LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 209 *^Yersette, even now your manner awakens suspicion. Mind, I am determined to have the truth, and the proof of the truth, from you. Where is the certificate of poor Bertha's death? Where was she buried?'' " I sent Babele, her nurse, to you — she knew all." "But I want more than her all. You can and shall give me proofs " " Proofs — proofs !" said Versette, rousing himself; "there are plenty. Bertha was dying when she went to Babele, you know. On her dying-bed she wrote to implore my forgiveness, and in that letter she said — she said — she said — that she was your wife. Is that true?" He spoke in a rambling, childish way that made Arthur half doubt his reason; VOL. I. p 210 lisabee's love story. but it was only for a moment. The clouds dispersed from his face; it took a sharp, decided, inquisitorial look, under which the young man quailed. " Oh !" added the violinist, with pitiful pathos, "if I could only have believed it! If I could only have buried her by my sainted wife, in the blessed God's Acre, with an honest ring on her finger ! But I knew it was not true, though she assured me of it. I knew it was not true ; and yet, at the last, she thought more of you than of me — you, who robbed her of the little she had — you, who made her what God could not unmake her " Passion choked the old man's utterance, and he beat on the table heavily, mutter- mg- " Devil — murderer that you are! It LISABEES LOVE STORY, 211 is sucli as 3^ou who take poor men's daughters! — first their bodies, then their souls! How can you come to me? How can you speak of Bertha to — her father?" '' Hush, Versette ! you forget all the circumstances that led Bertha and myself into temptation; and you forget — but I will not hurt your feelings by a shadow of self-reproach — she was far better than my- * self ; and though I intended to marry her, . I still feel answerable for the greatest sorrow and misery. But whatever I can do or say won't undo my youth and all its errors and follies ; let me, at least, make up for them in the best way possible. You are too infirm to work ; who so fit to sup- port you, at any rate to help you, as I? my money. p2 Take — — " 212 lisahee's love story. The violinist sliook liis liead. Arthur added, witli real kindness — " For her sake — Bertha's. I am young, and can work." '' I am old, and can die." " Nonsense. No man has a right to die before his time. Have a glass of wine with me before we part." " I can't drink wine as I used to do. It gets into my head." " Let me lend you a small sum — ever so small a sum — to be repaid when you are better off." " That will never be," Yersette answered, without the slightest shade of conciliation in his voice. " Don't tempt me any more, Arthur Leeb ridge, for I should not rest in my grave if I died in your debt. I owe you enough already." LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 213 Arthur shrugged his shoulders im- patiently. " Then we may as well separate. But first, I must have this certificate of Bertha s death. Where do you live ?" " I will send it to you." " No ; I would rather fetch it. I will go home with you to-night." Again a wild, uneasy look lit up the old man's eyes. He made a dozen excuses. The certificate should be sent within twelve hours to any place Arthur might direct. He could not take a gentleman to his poor lodgings, and he hardly knew where the paper lay. Arthur wrote down the address of his office; then tore it up, as if on second thoughts, and said — " I need not do more than tell you where 214 lisabee's love story. I dine — Hotel Meissel, upper dining-room, two o'clock. To-morrow you must bring^ me that paper, and then we need have no further dealings together." Both men rose to go. As they reached the doorway, something in the violinist's bent figure and threadbare appearance seemed to smite Arthur with sudden and deep self-reproach. He held out his hand quite humbly for so proud a man. "Versette,'^ he said, ''I have never be- fore asked your pardon ; I do so now. I feel that your life is a very wretched one, and that it might have been less wretched but for me. Will you take my hand?" Yersette bent forward as if assenting, but drew back quickly. " I can't," he sobbed, " I can't. She was so good and kind to me till you took her. lisabee's love story. 215 Don't be angry; I was fonder of her than you — I was her father." Then he raised his battered hat, made a grand bow, and groped his way along the dusky street, with a decrepit attempt at dignity touching to witness. Arthur looked after him gloomily, and fell into a reverie — not a pleasant one, hardly an endurable one, despite the satis- factory nature of his interview. He was in reality less cold than he imagined him-« self to be, and whilst standing so aloof from Bertha's father, practised self-deception as well as self-control. He could not forgive himself for that extravagant phase of his youth of which Bertha had been alike the pride, the joy, and — the victim. He could not reconcile himself to the part he had played: other men played such parts, no 216 lisabee's love story. doubt, and played them with impunity in the eyes of the world; but there was the pitiful story, nevertheless — the sweet, gay love, the trampled innocence, the wretched desolation ! — the man's cowardice — the woman's despair 1 Again, Bertha was his youth as well as his sin ; his Past as well as his Retribution ; his sweetness as well as his shame. How could he think of her in her beauty, then recall her dead, cold, despised, without a pang? He accused himself, however, less than circumstances, which is the w^ay of most men who are good-hearted but not large-hearted. They reason themselves into all sorts of mild remorse, and reason themselves out of the same as easily. From J^neas downwards Fate has been to blame, not ^neas. Poor Dido wrings her lisabee's love story. 217 hands, and dies unrevenged ; jEneas sails off calmly and pleasantly towards Italy and Lavinia, excusing himself by quoting destiny and the unalterable decrees of the gods. Data fata secutis. It is always the Lycian oracles that do the mischief. We are all fatalists when casting up the sum of our misdeeds ! :21S CHAPTER III. T7ERSETTE, meantime, was taking a tedious and tortuous way home. Leaving the gloomy little square in which stood the Stork restaurant, he threaded a brilliantly lighted passage, and entered upon the still more brilliant Graben. What had he to do there and at such a time ? — the Graben being, of all the streets in Vienna, of all the streets in the world, that for rich people, for merry people, for well- fed people; and he was so penniless, so sor- rowful, so hungiy. We shall see. He looked wistfully as he passed each confectioner's shop, studying, by long and lisabee's love story. 219 slow gazes, not only the brightly-coloured cakes, ices, and bonbons displayed at the mndows, but also the ideal ones painted on the shutters. He seemed literally to feast on such inspections, smacked his lijDS once or twice, and even wiped his mouth after some mythical delicacy. By- and-by, just as he approached the ex- tremity of the Graben, where there was no longer street-room for ice-pavilions and ice-tables, he stood still in deep thought. The last and most glittering of the confectionery shops was opposite to him, the hardly-earned seventy-kreutzer bank-notes (for even sevenpence is paid by paper money in Vienna) lay intact in his pocket — should he be extravagant, or should he not ? He dashed boldly into the shop, and 220 lisabee's love story. s^lanccd around him with the unmistakable air of a purchaser. "I want a sugar Chnst-kind,''^ he said, ^'such as you sell at Easter." The shopman put down a little trayful of the pink babies in sugar so dear to the hearts of Austrian children, saying, curtly — "At sixty kreutzers?" " Have you none cheaper ? — a smaller one would do.'' "No; these things never change in price, being so much required for name- days; we have lots of bonbons and Easter- eggs at forty kreutzers." But the violinist seemed fascinated by the Christ-kinds. He took up one of the prettiest, and almost fondled it in his admiration ; he turned over the seventy kreutzers as if by renewed manipulation he could meta- lisabee's love story. 221 morphose tliem into a hundred. At length the shopman, who had a child of his own, said, kindly — "If you like to take the one with its right arm oiF at forty kreutzers it is yours ; and children never mind such disfio^ure- ments." Yersette paid fourpence for the fractured Christ-kind and walked on, only stopping to lay out the remainder of his evening's earn- ings at a bread-stall. In ten minutes Iiq reached his home, a small room on the ground floor of a large suburban house. As he entered the gloomy passage, a woman ran out to him with dismay in her face and voice — ''Oh, Herr Yersette," she said, "the child is ill, sinking of the heat, I think. Eun for a doctoi', or get her some medicine. 222 lisabee's love story. for the dear Virgin's sake. She can't hold up her head ; she hasn't eaten a bit all day. Kun for a doctor, dear Herr Violinist !" "Let me see her first," answered the old man, tremblingly; and without a word more he followed her into the room. It was a bare-looking place enough, unfur- nished save for a chair or two, a tiny cooking-copper, and a shut-up bed that served the purpose of a table by day. On the floor lay a little girl of five or six years, a pretty, healthful, dimpled creature, too rounded, too full of life, too spirited still to let one fear for her. On seeing the violinist she half rose from her bed, and said, eagerly — " Oh, grandfather, the Christ-kind, You didn't forget it?" lisabee's love story. 223 " My Minclien mustn't think of Christ- hinds or any sweets now," interposed the woman; "slie must be a good child, and take her medicmes, and pray to the Virgin." '^ Grandfather, I will have my sugar- baby, as it is my name-day, and I have been promised it so long. I shan't try to get well if you keep it from me." " You may look at it and play with it, but you mustn't eat it to-night — perhaps to-morrow," coaxed the violinist. ^' I will get you an orange instead." " 1 don't like oranges." " Then a plate of strawberries ?" " No, grandfather, I don't like straw- berries either. I only like my sugar-baby, and you promised it to me." Versette hesitated. The rounded cheeks 224 lisabee's love story. of the little girl were flushed with fever ; her hands felt hot and dry; her apparent healthfulness seemed to disappear even as he gazed. ^'Darling, I daren't give it you. You would be ill, and then grandfather must cry and break his heart. AVait till to-morrow — to-night I will get you a real — yes, a real little bottle of vanilla or lemonade ; that is so much nicer than sugar-babies; isn't it, Babele?" " I should think so indeed! Why, only yesterday three little girls were poisoned merely from eating six kreutzerworth of lollipops. First, the eldest threw up her arms and fell down dead; then the second; then the third ; and that was because the Virgin hates to see money thrown av»'ay on rubbish." lisabee's love story. 225 " I don't believe the little girls died," said the child, impatiently, " not all of them at once ; people would have run off to the doctor's/' '^ It was on the Glacis, a mile from any doctor's, and there they lie now, as true as my name's Babele." Babele had at least done one service, namely, that of turning away the child's attention from her desired but forbidden dainty. She entreated her grandfather to^ go and see if the dead children were really lying on the Glacis -, and he hastened off to the doctor's instead. Perhaps no class of men are more humane than physicians; but since they are mortal, and the hour being a late one, Yersette found it difficult to obtain medical help. At length chance directed his footsteps to Dr. Albin Zillner's, VOL. I. Q 226 lisabee's love stouy. from whom he gained ready assent to his prayers. Dr. Albin not only visited the child, but sent her some cooling drinks and medicine, and the violinist's forty kreutzers remained intact. Next day Minchen was in high fever. The superstitious and stupid but mo- therly Bilbele put off her own baby to a neighbour, that she might take care of the old man's pet. She went without soup to buy oranges, she never wearied of consoling the violinist and of caring for the child, she invented stories of miraculous recoveries for the former, and of miraculous dolls for the latter. At night she seated herself by the little one's bed, having first made up some sort of couch for Versette. It was wonderful to sec how he bore his trial. With every increasing danger to LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 227 Minclien, his energy and cheerfulness also increased; he seemed to grow younger, stronger, more active as soon as any ser- vices were required for his darling; he soothed her fever fits by all manner of womanly coaxings, and repeated his old 'Reynard the Fox stories, as if in the gayest humour. Then he would bring out his violin, and amuse her with merry polkas and waltzes, sometimes singing grotesquely the while. No doubt that his heart achecj enough, that his scanty portions of black bread and dumpling soup were often ren- dered unpalatable by tears, that he played the hypocrite only in Minchen's eyes. But lie played the hypocrite well, nevertheless. Minchen hated to have her grandfather away ; it was so dull without him ; and Bilbele told her such baby-stories; grand- q2 228 lisabee's love story. father mustn't go to the Prater, mustn't go to mass, must stay with her always. " Grandfather," she asked one day, gravely, "must we all die?" " When our time comes, Minchen." " But must /die, grandfather?" " You will grow to be a w^oman, and in time you will be old, and in time you Avill die," answered the violinist, sorely puzzled, and sad at heart. The child opened her large blue eyes, and gazed out on the little bit of sky visible from the window. She could not quite understand this mystery of dying. Why did people die ? Why was there purgatory and hell ? Why w^ere there not ever, ever so many ladders placed between heaven and earth for people to walk up when they pleased? It was not kind of God to force them to die. lisabee's love story. 229 " Can't the Virgin keep anyone from dying, grandfather?" " No, darling." " Not if one set up lots and lots of beau- tiful candles, and even bought a gold crown to put on her head?'^ " Oh, Minchen, that would be asking too much. We mustn't pray for miracles." Again the child mused Avith her little head turned upwards. As light clouds pass over summer skies, so thoughts, vague; transient, and unspeakable, shadowed one by one the clear depths of her eyes. '' I shouldn't mind dying," she said, " if I could fly straight, straight up into the skies, and play hide and seek with little angels among the clouds; there are such pretty caves and hills up there, I'm sure; some are of real gold and garnet, like the 230 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. Emperor's croAvn. But, grandfather, I won't 'die as my little dicky-bird did, to lie cold and still, and be thrown over the ramparts." Then she cried for her little pet, and the violinist cried also. But on most occasions they were cheerful. Children are never so gay as when with old peoj)le, and Paul Versette was wholly a child in most things. He contented himself for hours in making rag puppets for her, in contorting his face to imitate fantoccini, in pretending to be a baby just learning the alphabet. Then at night the violin was shouldered cheerfully, and the Wiirstl-Prater-goers clapped their hands at the merry waltzes played on it. Meantime, the hot dry winds, so dreaded by the Viennese, blew off from the Wiener "Wald, the blue sky seemed to melt and lisabee's love story. 281 mingle with the sultry golden air; the chestnut alleys of the Augarten looked scorched and ready to blaze, the broad Glacis had lost its greenness of turf, its yellowness of gravel, and was brown, crisp, and volcanic ; the cupola of Carl's Kirche blazed as if on fire ; the slated dome of the Belvidere gleamed steely bright ; the grand old Cathedral of St. Stefan's stood out sharp, and clear, and gloomy against the burning heavens. The wide-stretching suburbs beyond the ramparts, though much more exposed to wind and sun, were hardly less heated than the narrow streets of the city within. One might dream pleasant dreams of cool air on the shaded side of the Kohlmarkt, or in the arcades and passages lying around St. Stefan's ; but though the eyes would be less blinded by the sun there. 232 lisabee's love story. the feet avouIcI blister on the pavement, and every now and then sultry puffs from side streets would undo the delusion altogether. People stood under the coping of porches and eyed the joyous rippling fountains wist- fully ; it seemed so wonderful that the allegorical figures should still pour water from their pitchers when the thirstiness of the land cried to heaven. The market- women of the Freyung bronzed and panted under their pink and scarlet cotton um- brellas ; the omnibus horses stumbled and swooned in their bright-coloured harness ; the dogs were hunted down by the police ; the priests alone wore black cloth clothes and walked about as usual ; the few theatres open were patronized by milliners and clerks. Shiny carriages no longer darted lisabee's love story. 233 round the narrow corner by St. Stefan's, no hyacinth- silked ladies ate ices ontheGraben, no carts full of pianos and drawing-room furniture rattled towards the railway stations; the stately house-porters of princely palaces in the Herrn-gasse had nothinof to do but drink wine and coffee in the cool halls, and handle their silver staff perhaps once a day. The cafe-house waiters read newspapers and drank iced- water them- selves, as there was no other claim upon their time; the streets were redolent of incense, but only servant girls went to mass. Clerks and merchants had estab- lished their families in country lodgings, near Vienna; bankers and the upper classes of professional men were living in Italian villas of their own ; rich Jews and Jewesses, princes and princesses were on a 234 lisabee's love story. tour, at Carlsbad, at Isclil, or at Berchtes- gaclen. Only poor people, and shop people, and insignificant people were left in Vienna to bear the copper sky and the dry air as best they might. But Minchen did not bear it well, and one day Dr. Albin said (he was just starts ing for the Austrian Tyrol) — " The child must go into the country — or die r 235 CHAPTER IV. A S soon as Paul Yersette had taken in the full meaning of the doctor's words, he rushed out of doors like a frenzied man. Without any purpose in his walk, he passed from street to street, from sunshine to shadow, and made no pause till he found himself on the bridge of the Molker Bastei. There he overlooked the People's garden, the shining equestrian statue of the Archduke Carl, the broad, populous road leading to Schonbrunn. Be- hind lay the city with its fatal sultriness ; before the wide-stretchmg suburbs; beyond all the green vineyards, the fir-clad moun- 236 lisabee's love story. tains, the still cool woods of the blessed, blessed country that could save his dar- ling's life ! He watched the myriads of Sclavonian peasants at work on the ramparts — blear- eyed old men, bare-legged, witch-like old women, white-haired boys, and bony girls, and wondered how many kreutzers could be earned a day by carting stones and picking out brickwork. The poor creatures did not seem to faint under the sun, and many of them looked older than he: why could not he earn money that way? De- molishing the ramparts that girded the city, and laying them out into pleasure- grounds, must require thousands and thou- sands of hands to do, hundreds of weeks, nay months in the doing — surely here was an opening for all ! Whilst thus earning imaginary money, LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 237 he heard a short deep moan, and a sound of something falling. On turnmg round sharply to ascertain the cause, a policeman standing by anticipated his curiosity. "Only a sun-stroke," he said; ''the old men often die so — their broad straw hats don't shade their heads as the women's cotton handkerchiefs do." And the violinist saw an old man carried away dying of sun-stroke. This put an end to his day-dreams. " If I were to die, Minchen must," he reflected, and turned away. Without any conscious motive, he walked back towards the city, strolling slowly down the quiet Herrn-gasse, eyeing every country-bound omnibus with hungry eyes, looking into shop-windows as penniless people do, think- ing of all the money possessed by passers- 238 LISAEEE S LOVE STOKY. by, and tlie little that would save his child from dying. It is difficult for well-fed, heavy-pursed people to understand the reflections of such a man as Yersette under such circum- stances. He looked at the glistening fruits, and affixed prices to each, then compared the sums to much larger sums, with the thought, "What are twenty kreutzers to twenty florins ? Nothing, less than nothing. Surely I can buy what costs so little !" He possessed but half a florin (the parting gift of Dr. Albin), yet, by a series of such cal- culations as these, his half-florin seemed equal to the whole ones. But at the first purchase the delusion vanished — he found himself owner of one small lemon, and many kreutzers the less. He must buy nothing else — not even a lisabee's love story. 239 slice of black bread for his own supper ; he must play at the Prater by night, he must do something by day, or Minchen would die ! Everything struck deeper conviction of this terrible truth into his heart. Only one or two children were to be seen, and he said, "All the little ones but Minchen are gone into the country." A little cpffin covered with flowers was awaiting burial at a church-gate, and he said, " The child died because it was fevered from the heat." A richly-dressed lady stepped out of her car- riage opposite to him, and he heard her ask the shopman, " Have you sent my children's bathing-dresses to Ischl, as or- dered?" This speech, and the shopman's obsequious reply made the violinist set his lips firmly together, to keep back a curse at the rich, who let Minchen die. 240 lisabee's love story. By-and-by, he approached the church of St. Michael, and, as the door stood open, entered. Having crossed himself and bowed before the high altar, where a priest was performing still mass, he crept into the shadow and coolness of the doorway, and there sat down, hat in hand. Whether he did so wdth the purpose of asking alms, he could hardly have told himself; but before five minutes had elapsed, some kreutzers fell into his hat. Welcome though they might be, the manner of their coming chilled his heart, and sharpened his features into an expression of still d.eeper agony. He looked up quickly, to see if anyone had witnessed his degradation, and met a glance of angry eyes from the opposite niche. By placing himself in the niche at that time he became an interloper lisabee's love story. 241 to tlie established beggar of the church — a weird, brown-skinned old woman, with red eyes, and no other feature distinguish- able. The violinist droppod two kreut- zers into her eagerly-stretched hand, by way of apology; and as he did so, she gave an angry snort of satisfaction. He pocketed the rest of his alms and left the church. What should he do? How was his darling's life to be saved ? Alms were not difficult to gain, but the gaining was too sloAv, and his earnings at the Prater barely sufficed for bread and shelter. Money must be had quickly, or it would be had in vain. He now turned into a narrow street leading to the Mehlmarkt, where a waxen image of the Virgin invited passers-by to prayer. A young lady was kneeling before VOL. I. R 242 lisabee's love story. it devotionally, and Yersette knelt also. If tills young lady in silks had need of the Virgin's intercession, he had surely much more. If the world was cold, surely Heaven would show a way of saving Minchen ! On rising from his knees, the beautiful fountain of Dormer, Avith its laughing figures, its never-ceasing plash of crystal water, its cool basin that never grew empty, enticed him farther — enticed him to the very threshold of the Hotel Meissel — Arthur's hotel. He drew back at the thought as if a serpent had stung him. Arthur's money could save the child — ^his child and Bertha's; Arthur's money could now requite for a little of the misery he had caused. True that Ar- thur was Bertha's betrayer ; true that Arthur was criminal as man could well be ; true that LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 243 by seeking him he, Versette, might risk the loss of his darling in another way. He must confess to a lie, too — he must humble himself so far as that; but what were all these things in comparison with the child's life ? Whilst she remained rosy, full of life and spirits, safe in Vienna, he could defy Arthur, he could lie to him, he could do any- thing to keep Bertha's little one — he could refuse the charities of Bertha's seducer haughtily. But it would little hurt him to grovel in the dust, to confess his deceit, to lay his very soul bare before Arthur now, since Arthur alone could save the child's life. He hugged the thought as Heaven- sent, and fearing to lose a moment in the fulfilment of it, hastened across the en- trance-hall of the hotel. It was just the dinner-hour of city men, R 2 244 lisabee's love story. and as Versette stole noiselessly up the staircase no one heeded him. We must explain, however, that in all the inns of Vienna are two dining-rooms, an upper and a lower. In the former, you are waited on by elegant young men of the same height, style of face, and manner. , You dare not, for the life of you, order less than seven or eight courses, with wines unlimited, and you give a fourpenny bank-note to the waiter Moreover, you have velvet-stuffed chairs, see yourself in resplendent mirrors on every side, and eat your soup off silver. In the lower room you are attended by anomalous waiters — waiters with short necks and coats too big for them — waiters with a squint in the eye and a wart on the nose — waiters only fifteen, waiters of fifty — waiters in brown-black, in green-black, lisabee's love stohy. 245 in rusty-black, and in threadbare-black, with neckties of any colour, and very dingy napkins slung on their arms. You sit upon bare mahogany, and eat off ungilt earthenware; you have black-handled knives for your meat, and blown-glass mugs for your beer ; you are not looked down upon if you only ask for soup, meat, and choco- late-pudding ; and you are rather looked up to by the waiter if you give him the ^ value of an English penny. The atmo- sphere is smoky and beery always; the politest of polite men spit on the floor without a prick of conscience ; but other- wise the lower room has no drawbacks. Though every one dines a la carte, every one talks sociably and intelligibly, and only ladies, of whom one sees but few, come and go without a greeting. 246 lisabee's love story. Not finding Artliur Leebridge in the upper room, tlie violinist sought him down- stairs, but a first glance through the open door of the lower room convinced him that the object of his search was not there. He seated himself in the hall and waited. Versette was too excited to feel hungry, too excited to watch the diners even, but an ordinary observer might well have found amusement. The work of the lower dining- room was done by three waiters, of whom one held the important position of chief; the lesser men were, properly speaking, elderly boys, with that disproportionate largeness of head and shortness of limb ob- servable in a hobble- de-hoy dism that has stopped short just when in duty bound to advance. They were whiskerless, yet by no means chubby ; heavy, yet not obese, lisabee's love story. 247 too old for twenty, too young for thirty ; sage enough for any age. The chief waiter was a remarkable man ; he had scant hair of straw-colour, a long straight nose, a long straight mouth, long straight arms, and very long straight legs. Of the latter members he showed an univonted pride, whether from their elasticity, or their slim- ness, or their power of taking long strides, we do not know ; but certainly they gave him no ordinary superiority above his fellows. It did one's heart good to see the inward satisfaction with which he entered the room, five plates of various meats placed fan-like on one arm, a napkin swung across his shoulders as gracefully as a soldier's scarf, the left leg drawn in, the right curved out to its utmost powers of stretch- ing, the whole body on the alert and conse- 248 lisabee's love story. qucntial. Then the vray in which he looked his commands or anger at the elderly boys, mouth, eyes, nose, combining to form one ominous frown; extraordinary dignity asserted by an outward j^ose of the right foot; unassailable supremacy expressed in every rigid limb. All this made the head- waiter's displeasure a thing to fear. By-and-by, he caught sight of Paul Ver- sette's mendicant-like figure, and feeling in duty bound to encourage no hangers-on in the hall of the Meissel Hotel, waved him off with an angry look. Versette ap- proached him boldly. What mattered the wrath of a hundred waiters when Minchen was going to live ? " I must stop here," he said, in a petu- lant, childish way; *' I w^ant to see an English gentleman who dines upstairs. lisabee's love storv. 249 I'm not a beggar, but a professor of music." "What's your name?" asked the waiter, looking now rather less like a policeman about to collar his victim. ''Paul Versette," he replied; " and the gentleman's name is Leebridge. English, you see." " Oh ! Mr. Leebridge has left a letter for you. He came yesterday for the last time." "For the last time?" "Yes; he's leaving Vienna for some weeks ; but here's your letter, and now be off, there's a good fellow. It won't do, you know." The violinist's face lost all its recently - gained hopefulness and audacity as he heard of Arthur s leaving Vienna, and with 250 lisabee's love story. trembling fingers, and a faint blush of eagerness, lie opened the letter. It con- tained a five-hundred florin note, and but these lines : — " Do not refuse to be helped by me, for I am nearer to you than you suppose. Bertha was legally my wife before her baby came. Forgive and forget us both. There is no harm in telling the truth now. " Arthur Leebridge." Versette read the words over several times, then placed letter and money in his breast-pocket, and bounded away, laughing idiotically. It seemed wonderful to him that everyone else looked so grave, that the very shop windows, doors, and pavements did not smile. He watched the effect of LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 251 his own frenzied happiness upon other people, and felt angry with them that they took no heed. Who else in all Vienna, in all Austria, in all the world, had any right to be so happy as himself? And no one understood it! But no one else had a Bertha, a Minchen, an Arthur. Ah, how he loved Arthur now! The proud, cold Englishman ! How he longed to take him and kiss him on the cheek, in token of pardon ! How he longed to lead Minchen to her father's side, and place her under her father's protection ! This Arthur — this son-in-law — this widower must surely love his child. He darted on wildly towards his home. Minchen could be saved without shame by her father's money. Minchen should be re- stored, not only to health, but to legitimacy, 252 lisabee's love story. comforts, fatherly love. He must give her up, arid break his heart ; but what was that in comparison with his darling's welfare ? For Bertha's sake, her child must be righted. Babele looked frightened as he stood on the threshold, pale, breathless, and be- wildered. " Jesu — Maria — Josef!" she cried, "where have you been, Herr Violinist, and what has made you sweat like a baker's dog, and stare like a dead calf? You'll bring a judgment upon yourself, if you do such things — only last Michaelmas, my Gott- lob " " Hush, Babele, I've something to tell you. I'm going to take the child into the country this very day, and she's, she's " He whispered the rest. LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 253 " She's a gentleman's daughter, and her mother was married !" Bilbele looked at him almost contemptu- ously, and muttered half to herself, half for the edification of her eccentric lodger — "As if that were something to get into a perspiration about! My mother wasn't married nor my grandmother either! The Virgin forgive some people's pride !" But Versette entered Minchen's room « without heeding the words, and throwing his arms around the fevered little one, told his story again and again. '' You will live in handsome rooms, and have governesses to teach you, and children to play with, and be dressed in silks on holidays. You will never have to wear rags again, and will have white loaves when you like." 254 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. "Who "svill give tliem to me?'^ asked Minchen, sharply. '^Your papa, your new j^apa; and, oh! you'll speak prettily to him, and love him, won't you, Minchen, and never vex him?" " Will he give me sugar-plums ?" " Oh yes, and strawberries, and money to spend at the fair." '^ Why can't you give me sugar-plums and strawberries, and money, grandfather — then I shouldn't want a papa, you know ?" " Because I have no money, my child, and he has, this new papa, oh, so much !" "Why are you poor and papa rich ?" "Everyone can't be rich, darling." " But why can't they ?" " Because," put in Biibele, " some please the Virgin and some the apostles, and those who please the Virgin are rich in this world. lisabee's love story. 255 and those who please the apostles are rich in the next." "I Avould rather please the Virgin," answered the child, beating the eider-down coverlet decidedly. '^ That is because you are not heavenly- minded, Minchen, and don't think enough about dying." " Shall I die now, grandfather ; now that I have a rich papa, I mean ?" ''Oh, child, don't talk of dying; we are going in an hour to the country, and you mil get fat and strong, and ride about in carriages and come home to live with your papa, and be a lady. Where shall we take her, Babele? To Dobling, to Baden, to Ischl?" '^ Say to the world's end at once, Herr Violinist. But I suppose no place is good 25G lisabee's love story. enough for the child since her father is a gentleman. You won't speak to me when you come back, I suspect, and as to Minchen playing with my Rosle, that's clean ended." The violinist burst into tears, and em- braced his housekeeper with a new emotion. ''She shall never forget you, Biibele, never. She shall often come to see you, and me too; you know — for — for I shall stay here alone. Her father Avon't want me^ Then he left the child to Biibele, and hid himself where he could weep. He did not weep long however; there was so much to think about, a carriage to hire, a heap of necessaries to purchase, everything to be done in fact that an unlimited purse could do. That same afternoon little Mhichen left the city under charge of her grandfather and Biibele. 257 CHAPTER Y. T/^OU can imagine Yersette full of mixed feelings and passions, of pride at his little Minchen's fair prospects, of overween- ing confidence in Arthur's love and care for her, of no little bitter, nay desponding re- flections as to his own future. Plainly as he read Minchen's happy fortune to come, still plainer did he read his own forlorn one. She would become the acknowledged daughter of a gentleman, she would grow up a lady, moreover, a lady of distinction and wealth, and her poor old grandfather must keep out of her sight utterly. Herein lay the crown- ing victory and the croAvning sorrow of the VOL. I. s 258 lisabee's love story. violinist's life. To save his darling, lie must sacrifice himself; to make her happi- ness, he must mar his own. " I am seventy, I shall not live long," he thought sometimes, yet with little comfort. Were we ninety we should still wish our re- maining years, months, weeks, or days to be pleasant ones. Sofew of us attain the philoso- phy of indifference to personal happiness. I shall not live long, he thought, and, after the thought, grew sadder, more thoughtful than ever. But there was much comfort, much positive enjoyment even in the present. He felt himself a millionaire with his newly- acquired fifty pounds, and set to work on the expenditure fit to Minchen's advantage. That very night he took her to Dobling, a pretty, pine-scented suburban village about an hour's journey from the city. All the LISABEE 'S LOVE STORY. 259 next day he employed himself in wheeling her np and down their little strip of garden. He bought her toys, gingerbread dolls, peaches, till the child began to think her new papa must be next to the Emperor, or his fat aide-de-camp at least. What puzzles this new papa gave her! What metaphysical riddles were ever uppermost in her thoughts ! What strange speculations his very name led her to entertain ! " Grandfather," she said one day as she lay like a little queen on the sofa, and the old man sat on a hard deal bench cutting out paper violins. " Grandfather, do you know what I have just thought of?" '' I can't think, Minchen." " Not if you thought, and thought, and thought for a month ?" "• Oh no, never," s 2 260 lisabee's love story. " Well, then, gross-vdterle, I wondered if my papa would give ine a real little girl to play with, dressed like the little Princess Esterhazy. I want one so much." '' Papa is a gentleman, and will give you everything you want." '* If he doesn't I will not love him ; and I don't think I shall love him so well as I do you, whatever he gives me. But then I won't tell him so, gross-vdterleJ' " No, for that would make him angry." She drew up her rosy mouth with the most determined pout, and said — " The first time he's angry we'll both run away." This little girl was quite a coquette, and had a theory of her own as to the duty of child and parent. Truth to say, Yersette's teachings were accountable for lisabee's love story. 261 the wild views she entertained regarding Arthur's lavishness. Who can wonder that she looked upon her father as a useful Slave of the Lamp, after all the extra- vagant things foretold of him? Children are by nature acquisitive. They love what belongs to them — they love you for in- creasing their belongings. Minchen readily believed her grandfather, and was quite prepared to hold out her apron for the . good gifts of Arthur's giving. Had Arthur been portrayed less as a fairy-tale prince, it is likely the child would have felt less * restlessly anxious for his return. By and by, Minchen grew strong enough to take little walks, and then how happy they were! What hearts of enjoyment they had for the sweet-scented mountain air, the winding paths, the dense, rich ;262 lisabee's love story. shadows of the woods! To them the least living thing was a wonder, the tiniest spiders web a miracle! They gathered branches, wild flowers, and common grasses to treasure as gold; they kept a diary of daily sights, they looked upon the eagle's flight and squirrels^ gambols as things to be remembered for ever and ever. Every- thing was beautiful to their eyes, from the dusty white roads and the heavily-laden omnibuses that passed night and morning, to the calm, green summit of the Kahlen- berg, breaking the monotony of the purple sky like an emerald pyramid. Ko one can love Nature who has not suiFered. No one can eschew painful thoughts so easily as those who have loved too often or too well, for they alone know the value of happiness. lisabee's love stoey. 263 This old man and little child both loved Nature, and were made happy by it on different grounds. Paul Versette loved it as children do, from instinct; Minchen loved it as men and women do, from a need and perception of beauty. Yersette basked in the sun, played with the fern- leaves, caressed the lizard with a tender, helpless love and sympathy. Everything seemed to pity him, to understand him, to comfort him. He felt safe, armour-proof, against evil amid a life so innocent and so abundant, and Nature so protective and gentle. To him the golden sunlight, prick- ing through waxen leaves, was a gospel that irradiated — the broad, wondrous sky a prophecy of peace. But Minchen accepted all the lavish loveliness of the place as a heritage and a right. The 264 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. mountain had many aspects — she must pick and choose her favourite one; all the day was beautiful there, but she only found twilight perfect. Some easy ascents and sunny uplands she utterly neglected to visit, found fault with even — choosing only inaccessible ways, and hidden nooks, and cool, silent recesses for her resorts. When the sun was due south, she would not look towards Vienna — everything seemed glaring, and smooth, and unlike a picture, she said ; at sunset, she must have all the doors and windows open to hear the Ave Maria chanted on the Kahlenberg, and to see how each prospect changed colour with the changing light. She was never so critical as when most delighted, never so full of questioning as when most happy. lisabee's love story. 205 And is it not always so? The young ever seek new Christs ; ever ask of the present, " Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?" Only in matured life do we pluck our palm- branches, and sliout with singing whilst our happy priest goes by. In childhood, the flower on the precipice is even fairer than the one in our hands; in youth, we dart at the all but inaccessible treasure — obtain it, perhaps, at the cost of a strained limb, certainly after many a struggle and heartache — find it worthless, or worse than worthless, full of prickly thorns — deceitful also, since the gold-dust of the stamina comes off on our fingers, and the petals lose colour and perfume at the touch : but in later and wiser life we walk past the precipice and its tempting bios- 26G lisabee's love stouy. soms witliOLit heed, or if heed at all, merely a shake of the head — a closer grasp of the common sturdy daisies in our possession. 267 CHAPTER YI. /^ REAT though Minchen's love was for her grandfather, it was a love that gave him little satisfaction or repose. There are some children like women whose love is as the homely, balmy breath of cottage gardens;^ others whose love has as many aspects as the changeful^ autmim tide off dangerous coasts ; others, lastly, who love as the sirocco blows, as the tropic hedgerows blossom, as the passionate birds sing. They love because it is their nature, and the whole of their nature, to love, little asking whether lesser love would not work more happi- ness. 2G8 lisabee's love story. Mincheii loved Paul Yersette, and asked of liim what slic deemed a fitting return. What was this return? The old man must be grave or gay, as she pleased ; must put off his age or his bodily infirmities when she willed it ; must humour her, flatter her, adore her, with such excess as few lovers dream of. Whereas, for her- self, ample largess was allowed. Her petu- lance, her incapabilities, her shortcomings of love or obedience — oh, these were nothing ! He loved her — what mattered the rest ? She could not conceive — what womanly nature ever could conceive — Love as Justice with scales in her hands ? And Yersette never imagined himself a victim. He reverenced womanhood even in embryo as only simple, honest, gifted souls reverence it, and suffered for it lisabee's love story. 269 willingly, proudly, with tears that he would not for worlds have exchanged for smiles. "When his Minchen teazed him, made light of his arguments, found fault with his playing, he loved her no less, though hardly so happily, as when it pleased her to caress, to praise, to honour with large, fathomless, wonderful eyes. Herein let Minchen receive no harsh blame. It is not the fault or the merit of some winds to blow mildly from the south and some recklessly from the west. So also it is not the fault or the merit, but simply the nature, of one heart to love fiercely, and of another with moderation. Minchen loved. She could not love after any fashion but her own. The old man's chief consolations at all times lay in his violin. Is it possible for 270 lisabee's love story. the sign-painter to regard himself as an artist, the bonbon rhymer as a poet, the village preacher as an orator ? Of course it is ; and Paul Versette felt himself kindred of such spirits as Mozart and Beethoven. He had never played well — that is to say, for an Austrian; had never even mastered the rudiments of musical science, and was utterly in the dark as to the complexities and beauties of harmony; but he loved music with a childlike instinct, and, childlike, prided himself upon his performances. Years back he had been drilled into the decencies of an orchestra, could have told something about operas, con- certos, and the like; but with a battered old violin, a shaking hand, and a failing car, could he ever again be more than the veriest Bohemian of the art ? Could LTSABEE S LOVE STORY. 271 he ever delight anyone with music but himself? He could not, and blamed the world rather than the deficiency of his instrument or the skill brought to bear upon it. He played, and, playing, looked around with an attempt at lofty pity, but with self-mortifi- cation, only, that he procured no listeners. His feelings were much those of a child who cannot understand your refusal of the nauseous sweetmeats it generously ofi'ers you. Minchen loved his playing, when it was hardly playing — rather a medley of discords and shrieks. She seldom seemed melted by it ; but he forgave her. He had named his violin as other people name dogs, cats, horses, and all other pet things. " Felix" he called it, because Felix meant happy, and meant Mendelssohn. 272 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. Felix was treated after quite another fashion than Minchen or Arthur. When his master felt wearied v/ith his fight for bread and water, none but the poor, battered, soulless thing entered into his confidences. When rejected of the world, despised for his palsied playing and tattered habiliments, Felix, and Felix alone, became witness to his mortification, his soul-sickness, his numerous pitiful aspirations. He grew to consider Felix as a boon companion, prattled to him, asked his advice, received his con- solations. From one set of confidences only was Felix strictly withheld. Paul Yersette re- ceived more insults in the course of the year than most men, perhaps because of his childish sensitiveness, perhaps because of his timid forgivingness. He was insulted LISABEE S LOVE STOUY. 273 chiefly through Felix. Coarse men and women of the Prater, tight-rope dancers, clairvoyants, murder-chaunters, miracles of fatness, and spectators, would hesitate to mock the gentle old man for any mere personalities, but scrupled little at mocking his violin. Then Yersette touched the strings tenderly and deprecatingly, as one mio-ht caress a deformed child that had received taunts. Perhaps if no one were listening, his lips accompanied the tune with a plaintive soothing lullaby. The violinist loved Minchen better than any- thing in the world ; but Minchen gainsaid him, tormented him ; Minchen was young, beautiful, and born for a bright world; Felix, like himself, was old, broken-down, and piteous. And he always imagined that they two VOL. I. T 274 lisabee's love story. were forsaldng the world, rather than that the world was forsaking them. If, after one or two bitter rebuffs, the thought had come — "Alas! I was never anything beyond a gingerbread-fair fiddler, and my poor violin unworthy of its great namesake," he rejected it, strangled it with a violent effort, and grew cheerful again. He loved music as far as lay in his simple genius to do, and loving it, woman-like, was ready to endure sorrow, shame, all, for its sake. One day Minchen said — " Grandfather, buy another violin, and let me have Felix as a plaything. Oh! wouldn't I teach him better manners ! In a week he would play till the very dogs stood still to listen." A lidit shiver ran throucrh Yersette's lisabee's love story. 275 thin frame. He knew that the child was capable of any wildness, and he knew that he could never make her comprehend the magnitude of her proposal. "My child," he replied, gravely; "if Felix were new, and bright, and varnished, you should have him in a moment; but he's old you see, and what is old and broken down, past mending, can't, won't, be taught better manners." "Which was born first, you or Felix?" asked the child, with a pretty pertness, im- possible to paint in words. Versette hesitated. At last he said, with a shake of the head — " I hardly know, dear, but we are both very, very aged. See how hollow we are ! How bruised and battered !" " And shabby, grandfather." T 2 276 lisabee's love story. " Yes, shabby, Minchen ; and that comes of wear and tear, too." "But, grandfather, Felix does screech, so ! It's like biting a sponge, like cutting a cork, like scratching a slate to hear him. Xch — xch — xcli — xch. Oh," she added, stopping her ears ; " now I will be Felix, now I will send you out of your wits. Listen, gross-vclterUy Then the little being — was she elfin, was she woman ? — danced frantically around the old man, making almost supernatural sounds and forcing him to laugh the laugh that is sadder than tears. When the child had grown quite rosy and strong, Yersette filled his pockets with one-florin notes, and went to the city. Having purchased a variety of gay clothes LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 277 for Minchen, he procured Arthur's address at the Bureau of Passports, and returned home full of ambitious plans which were only matured after hours of solitary- thinking. BOOK III. WOOING IN THE COEN-COUNTEY. '^ Suffice it now by signs to understand The usual joyes at knitting of Love's band ; Thrice happy man the knight himself did hold, Possessed of his ladye's hart and hand." Faeeie Queene. 281 CHAPTER I. "VTO less an idyll than the Rhenish vintage or the Kentish hopping is harvest in the corn-country, which we love best of all because we were children when we loved it first. And truly the SuiFolk. garnering in of the fruits of the earth wants for no pictures after the manner of Bloomfield or Gainsborough. In the early morning all is calm, mono- tonous and dreamy. You see the heads of the reapers rise and fall behind the slender golden wheat, you catch a gleam of bright sickles, hear a momentary click, and the corn lies level along the ground ; 282 lisabee's love story. sometimes a skylark is startled from its nest, or a tiny colony of harvest mice is dislodged; otherwise there are no hindrances. The master sets up the sheaves and cracks jokes with his men, now to hurry a laggard, now to encourage a leader ; but none work harder than he, and he fans himself with his straw-hat at every opportunity. When the sun is due south, colour and life and humour are added to the scene. The men sit on the grassy bank to dine, and their dinners are brought by wives and sweethearts ; there is always a baby to be played with, and always a romp among the lads and lasses, ending in quarrels, kisses, or sober talk of next Sunday's meeting in the lane. At the end of an hour the women carry home empty bottles and baskets, the lisabee's love story. 283 babies are held up to cry " ta-ta," the girls look back loth to go, and work begins again. But begins more eagerly; and if Sunday or bad weather impends, the master sends home for cans of bright amber- coloured beer, from which all are regaled. No one is in a hurry to leave off after the beer; some grow roysterous, one or two sing of love and despair ;. all praise the farmer and his brewing. ^ Then comes the gleaning. All the village is silent ; even the Sunday school is closed; the four-year old children wear gleaning- aprons, and none save infants and infirm old women, are left at home. Wherever a sheltered nook or bit of plan- tation is to be found, you see children making daisy chains, and women waiting for the clearance of an adjoining field. In 284 lisabee's love story. the open road you come upon tens and twenties, laden with bags of corn, full of content, and telling stories of their babies. There is a sweet smell of dry corn every- where, and pleasant wide -stretching pros- pects of yellow fields dotted with stooping figures, and shady lanes through which the heavily-laden waggons wend their way. It is four o'clock at Nettlested, and "William Plumtree's men have just sat down to the afternoon meal of beer and harvest cake, or in East-Anglian dialect, beaver. The master is leaving them to take a cup of tea with his girls, and as he raises the gate-latch, a well-known cheery voice cries — '' Spare me ten minutes, friend Plumtree, in which to tell thee something important ; can thee?" lisabee's love story. 285 William looked up and saw Kobert Patterson, the head of the great Quaker firm Patterson, Smith and Sons. It was a Plumtree creed to respect money, good horseflesh, and fine cloth ; moreover, Robert Patterson's placid white head, broad easy figure, and mild Quaker manners com- manded universal esteem; so the farmer doffed his hat as to the parson. " I hope I see you well, sir?" he said, in his shy, homely way. " So-so, thank thee, friend. What a noble harvest thou hast this year ! One look at thy red wheats tell me what a farmer thou art!" William was a good farmer, as good as any in the place; but he deprecated the praise meekly. " I've put a good deal of guano into the 286 lisabee's love story. land of late years/' lie replied, " and there isn't much art in that ; but with wheat at a guinea a coomb, and a farm at high rent " " Tush — farmers always grumble, friend Plumtree. I'm bound thou hast taken no harm, or thou couldst not have laid out money in guano. See how I have caught thee!" William smiled. He liked being thought well oiF. Everyone likes it. " And now, shall I tell thee what brings me here? Thou hast a daughter named Lisabee?" " Yes," said William, growing amazed. ''Well, and thy Lisabee has a lover. Wert thou aware of it?" William shook his head. He was one of those men whom children love fondly, but lisabee's love story. 287 never make confidants of. A secret would have harassed him, haunted him, irritated him — moreover escaped him at the most inauspicious times. So of Arthur's decla- ration to little Lisabee he was utterly ignorant. '^ Ah ! I have quite a surprise for thee then — a pleasant surprise too; for however much we may love our daughters, we are pleased to hear of good lovers — still more of good husbands. And thy Lisabee has; I do believe, found a right good husband, friend Plumtree." "A husband — Lisabee '^ " Thou hast not forgotten our son's friend, Arthur Leebridge, at the fete ? He is the husband I speak of. I must tell thee that he is of respectable family, and has been long in connexion with our firm, 28 S lisabee's love story. but has lately set up a firm of his ov/n (we won't say for better or for worse, but young men love change, as thou know'st). He has come to England, partly on busmess, partly on pleasure, and has begged me to speak a good word for him, which I can do heartily, friend, and congratulate thee on such a suitor for thy pretty Lisabee." The benevolent but business-like Quaker had sounded Arthur's praises just as heartily and earnestly as he Avould have sounded the praises of any bargain to a customer, and now looked down at William Plumtree to read the effect. The farmer's face, however, expressed nothing. With him to hear strange news was one thing, and to understand it was another. After a pause he murmured some incoherent thanks; but why such lisabee's love story. 289 thanks should be due to the great, rich Quaker, especially on Lisabee's account, as yet he had no clear idea. When, after hearing a further and more lengthy disser- tation on the same subject, a little light flashed within focus of it, his eyes moistened, and he remembered his courtship of Elgitha thirty years before. *^ I can't understand it," he said, at last. "He's a rich man; and though I've brought up my little ladies as their Ma was brought up, I couldn't expect 'em to marry like this, and — and — I've no money to give 'em, poor dears." " Young men don't want any money now-a-days; or if they do, it is only the idle, good-for-nothing ones. Fifty years ago I married my Lucy ; and, bless her, she brought me nothing but herself, friend VOL. I. . u 290 lisabee's love story. Plumtree, not even a silk gown; yet I am well-to-do now, and she's silk gowns in plenty. To marry a good girl without money, I tell them, is often the saving of a young felloAV. But let us now go and tell thy daughters; I shall like to see little Lisabee run away, blushing to her ears, and ready to cry of joy." One might be sure that the old Quaker had stored up hundreds upon hundreds, thousands upon thousands of happy married-life experiences, or he would hardly have been so boyishly eager about this same love story of Farmer Plumtree's Lisabee. Putting spurs to his horse he reached Sycamore Farm, and explained his errand to the sisters, before their father had fairly comprehended it himself. And Robert Patterson pleaded Arthur's case lisabee's love story. 291 well ; indeed, lie would never liave under- taken a cause without pleading it well. Some men, and the best of men too, invest the smallest of matters with a certain dignity and importance as soon as it comes under their own handling. They cannot help feeling interested about everything that happens within their peculiar sphere, and endeavour to set the results of it in the most advantageous light. The Quaker liked young people, especially young people after the pattern of Lisabee and her lover ; and he threw heart and soul into their pre- sent and future. He described Arthur's prospects, told Lisabee the probable difficul- ties of housekeeping she would find in Yienna, advised her as to wardrobe, and left nothing unsaid that prudence, kind- ness, or advocacy for Arthur could suggest. TJ 2 292 lisabee's love story. Strange to say, Lisabee showed the most self-control throughout the interview ; her sisters said all sorts of agitated things that had no meaning whatever ; Lisabee blushed and paled by turns, but otherwise gave no sign of inward emotion. When the Quaker rose to go, however, she let her little hand rest in his, and fol- lowed him to the door. *' Will he come to-day?" she whispered. ''In an hour, if lie may ; I think thy blushes speak consent." The happy girl made no answer, but bowed so low as almost to touch the old man's arm with her cheek. She felt too bewildered to act after the common-place pattern ; she must love Robert Patterson, his horse, his broad- brimmed hat, everything connected with j.isabee's love story. 293 him, for Arthur's sake. Eyes, cheeks, lips told her story. " Tell me, have I brought thee good news, Lisabee — the news thou wouldst have desired beyond all other?" asked the Quaker, with sly satisfaction. " Dost thou love our friend Arthur?" " Yes," she said ; and broke away from him, half crying. Her sisters met her in the hall ; then, as was only natural, the girls clung to each other, laughing and crying, every one of them almost as much in love with Arthur as Lisabee herself. By and by. Cissy reminded Lisabee that Arthur would soon have started on his way, and that she must dress herself in her best, to receive him. Mabel recommended one gown, Greta another; 294 lisabee's love story. but Lisabee positively refused any advice on this point, and barred the door of her little bedroom. She wished no one else to see what pains she must take to please Arthur. Every plait must be smooth, every knot tied with double care. Like Enid, " she fell in longing for a dress all branched and flowered with gold;" but her wardrobe offered nothing more costly than stuffs and cambrics, and she sat, almost in despair, turning them over and over. At length her eye fell on the muslin dress she had worn on that eventful day, the day of the Foreigners' Fete; and on a still more eventful one, the day of Arthur's visit to Nettlested. Only yesterday she had darned the torn sleeve about which he showed such concern. Ah ! how little thinking he was to come again so soon! lisabee's love story. 295 With a smile of pure, unmixed happiness, she shook out the light skirt, and robed herself in it. Yes, he would surely love to see her in that dress ; and she remem- bered his praises of it, his comparing it to a hundred fanciful things. When her toilette was made she stole noiselessly downstairs, and through the front door into the garden. She could not suffer her sisters even to see how carefully she had dressed for him ; she felt as if they had no right to admire and praise her now — that must be left for Arthur. Not that they were loved less fondly than ever, but there was one love for them, one love for him, and the last had more sacredness about it. Eecalling our Lisabee and her pretty coax- ing of circumstances into favour, we are 296 lisabee's love story. reminded of another; she a fairer and a less fortunate one, who arrayed herself just so tenderly and coquettishly for her lover's eyes thousands and thousands of years ago. Who has forgotten Virgil's account — so poetic, so true, so perfect — of Dido's pre- paration for the hunt with ^Eneas? Her courser stands m rich trappings pawing the ground and champing the bit impatiently; the assembly wait with eyes turned eagerly towards the portal whilst she makes her- self beautiful, " cunctantem thalamo " — de- laying in her chamber — never satisfied, never feeling to have done enough, or to have done rightly for him. At last we see her issue forth, splendid as a star, fantastic as a fairy queen. The Sidonian chlamys, with delicate bor- derings, wound round her light form, the lisabee's love story. 297 golden quiver suspended from her shoulder ; golden also is the comb that confines her abundant hair, and the girdle that confines her purple robe. What wonder that ^Eneas fell in love? The gods are certainly churlish for making such a day full of evil auspices. The beautiful, the young, and the loved ought to be happy. Lisabee hid herself behind the laurels at the lower part of the garden, half hoping, he would catch sight of her as he rode up the front path, half hoping he might search and search for her ever so long. What would he say to her? What should she say to him? She felt sure that whatever she might do, she could not displease him; yet she almost wished he had given her more time, had come once or twice as friend before he came as lover. She 298 lisabee\s love story. plucked a Provence rose, and began pull- ing it to pieces, petal by petal. Surely before the last petal was pulled he v\^ould be with her; perhaps even the last petal would be pulled by his hand. But no ; the bright pink leaves lay scattered on the ground, every one, and no Arthur. Then she set herself to watch a bee working in the heart of a tiger-lily hard by. The bee was very, very slow; surely before its honey-bag was filled Arthur Avould have come. But the bee flew away laden, and no Arthur. By and by he came. She heard the quick beat of his horse's hoofs on the road ; she saw him alight at the gate ; and, throw- ing the reins to a stable-boy, spring lightly up the garden path. Then followed a little chat with Greta and Cissy, an im- lisabee's love story. 299 patient "Where is Lisabee?" and lie returned by the way lie had come to seek her. She lost courage, and hid herself as well as she could among the laurel leaves, but to little purpose. Before the blush could fade from her cheek that his approach had called forth he stood beside her, held her trem- bling fingers — read the glad, sweet story of her love and of his happiness at a glance. His first greeting was not quite what sha imagined it would be — not so romantic, not so uncommon : he held out both hands simply and naturally, pressed hers close in his, dropped a light kiss on her lips, and said — " You are willing then, Lisabee, to be my wife r '' If I am good enough," she whispered, and hid her face on his shoulders. 000 lisabee's love story. He let it rest there for a few minutes ; then putting his hands tenderly on either side, raised the blushing tear-wet cheeks, and looked into the happy, moistened eyes. " If / am good enough rather, Lisabee. But tell me, isn't it a wonderful thing that 1 should come back so soon ; that you and I, wlio seemed separated by worlds only a few weeks ago, are now to be separated no more? Do you wholly believe it yet? I cannot. And I have come, oh! so many hundreds and tens of hundreds of miles to fetch my darling." " Must I go with you ?" asked Lisabee, for the first time realizing her new position. " Would you be happy if I went alone?" "Oh, no!" lisabee's love story. 301 " You must go too, then. I should hardly think you loved me at all, if not well enough to go with me to Vienna — to the world's end." " But father, and Greta, and Cis, and Mabel " ^' Is not Arthur Leeb ridge, your lover, your husband, your all? No, Lisabee, we must look to each other now for the best kind of happiness. Can I alter this ? Can you ? By no m.eans ; and only as we fully feel the truth of it can we be happy. You will never shipwreck my love, will you, Lisabee?" " Never." "And you have little fear that I shall shipwreck yours? Why is this?" "How can I tell?" " But consider the danger you are run- 302 LISABEE S LOVE STORY. iiing. Are you not afraid to trust me with so much — to trust me with all ?" " Oh, Arthur, you frighten me. You make me feel as if I ought not to trust you ; and yet — and yet — I cannot help it." " No, Lisabee, you ought to trust me — trust me now, and through everything. No one is entirely trustworthy, but love must be trustful, nevertheless ; and so, even if I am not exactly what you imagine me to be, you must not alter your imagining to pattern experience. Do you understand me?" '' Not quite." " I will speak plainer, then. Of my love for you, you shall never have cause to doubt ; of anything else, of my good quali- ties, amiabilities, integrity, however much LISABEE S LOVE STORY. 303 you doubt, you must love me all the same. Is not that the duty of wife to husband ?" She smiled and shook her head, but the smile answered him assentingl3^ " I love you better than you think ; I love no one else — want no one else to love. Do you like to hear that?" ''Yes." " And do you willingly put all your trust in me, not only for a day, for a year, but for life?" He had drawn her closer to him, and now their faces almost touched. She blushed, trembled, finally rested in his arms, whispering — " For life, Arthur." Then they wandered under the walnut- trees to talk of each other, praise, chide, coax each other, after the fashion of lovers. 304 CHAPTER II. TT^HEN tea was over, came the lovers' hour of liberty and embarrassment. Greta and her sisters, wisely and womanlike, sUpped out of the room, and William fol- lowed them, looking guilty as a man caught sheep-stealing. Lisabee hid herself so well in the deep old-fashioned window that Arthur only felt conscious of her presence by low long-drawn breaths and quick little heart-beats. Drawing her from her hiding- place tenderly, as one might extricate a caught bird from the net, he made a circle of his arms, and their young, eager, triumph- ant hearts beat in unison for awhile. lisabee's love-story. 305 Lisabee leaned a little forward on his breast, partly to hide her tear- wet cheeks, partly to assure herself that the sweet privilege of leaning there was her own. When the tears and blushes had vanished she dared to let him see her face, even caught at his watchchain with happy pride. Already Arthur belonged to her, not Arthur alone, but the veriest trifle that was his, his ring, his chain, his seal. Everything Avas beautiful in her eyes that he wore, wished for, delighted in. Was not Arthur her own, her love, her all? He seemed to read these natural thought?, and said, with a vanity only pardonable in lovers — " Ah, Lisabee ! love, child, I see plainly that I shall never have told you enough VOL. I. X 306 lisabee's love-story. about myself. Confess now — are you not determined to question and never tire, to know the history of all my thoughts, likes, dislikes, and intentions ; to be a little inqui- sitive mistress in fact, lording it over her servant ?'' Lisabee tried to pout. " Oh, Arthur ! I only wish to please you ; you know that." " But you need not try to please me, Lisabee," he went on, laying his cheek against hers; "I. love you because " She raised her head quickly, and caught up his words. " Because what ? That is just the ques- tion I have been afraid to ask. Why do you love me, Arthur ?" " Because," continued Arthur, his eyes sparkling with the least blameable egotism lisabee's love-story. 307 of human nature; ''because of many rea- sons, clear. Perhaps I shall act wrongly in not telling you all since I should not wish my wife to become vain ; but one or two may suggest the rest. I love you then because your eyes, your lips, the colour of your hair, the outline of your figure, give me pleasure, make me wish to have them always within my sight. Again, I love you because your voice is sweet, and you say things that interest me and charm me be- yond music or any sweet sound, and because everything seems to love you, even the in- sensible winds that stir your curls. But '' He kissed her with a half-playful, half- earnest smile, and added — " But chiefest, I think, darling, because you loved me first." 308 lisabee's love-story. Lisabee protested against this, tried to quarrel with him, to disengage herself from his arms, to call Greta or Cissy. They ought to join the others, she said ; to-morrow perhaps another little talk might be possible. Arthur resisted, however. He fetched her garden hat from the hall, and all at once seemed possessed with a burning desire to see Lyddy Maple. They passed out of the orchard gate silently, and arm-in-arm entered the twilight covert of the lane. It would be hard to find a spot that lovers' eyes have not found beautiful, and lovers' whispers consecrated. Here was an ordinary Suffolk lane, shut in by pollards and hedgerows, dark at early evening, in nowise brilliant at any hour, yet Arthur and Lisabee found it fair beyond lisabee's love-story. 30^ comparison. They did not talk mucli of its beauty, being too happy and selfish just then, but the beauty sank into their hearts, became a part of their lives from hence- forth. By and by they seemed to enter a bright circle of life, atmosphere, and sound. It was as if night had loved this spot too well to veil it otherwise than slowly and reluctantly. The birds still sang on the warm green boughs, the golden sunlight still glowed over all, the noise of the distant village could be dis- tinctly heard. The lovers stopped involuntarily. A little pool gleamed on one side of the drift, and they looked down, each seek- ing the other's face in the clear brown water. '' When I was a foolish little girl," 310 lisabee's love-story. said Lisabee, " I used to climb do^vn to the brink and try to catch the shadows of the lilies ; the lilies I did not care for." Arthur smiled. '' You were not so very foolish after all," he said, ^' seeing that the shadow is as true and often more beautiful than the thing itself." Lisabee's large eyes demanded a logical explanation. " I do not mean to encourage dreaming,*' he went on, '' or to say one word in favour of illegitimate discontent with life as we find it ; but I hold, Lisabee, that the un- seen, unspeakable, mysterious part of our beings, that which is to our real selves as the reflection to the flower, must neces- sarily more nearly approach perfection. lisabee's love-story. 311 But I don't wan't to talk metaphysics to you/' "Oh, no." " You must understand me though. Look at the shadows below. What exquisitely- shaped leaves, what fairy stalks, what graceful fronds ! Why, there is no feathered or fishy thing that we know half light and airy enough to dispute them. Now, look at the real foliage and living plants. How, heavy, how full of weariness, how humanly careworn they are ! And so much, Lisabee, does the real in life lose by comparison with the ideal. If there is anything in my nature that is pure, and worthy, and unsoiled, it is my love for you. But, ah ! I am human, and 1 can only love humanly, however high, and single, and beautiful my idea of love may be. Do you understand me?'' 312 lisabee's love-story. " Xot quite, I think. Would you mind saying it over again?" But Arthur said other things instead, and Lisabee found no fault with him for- doing so. END OF THE riRST VOLUME. UNIVERSITY OF ILUN0I9-URIANA illllllllllliliii 3 0112 045828552 > ' -"^ > > ^-^^ '$»>■.-> >»>. »-^>>>:> » »' :>