nKj^^ 
 
 L I B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS
 
 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 ^ i»v<l. 
 
 MRS. HENRY MACKARNESS, 
 
 lUthor of "a trap to catch a sunbeam," "a peerless WIF] 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 '■ Life is a mingled yarn of good and evil. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PJCHARD BENXr.EY AND SON. 
 
 1872. 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY WiLlJAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFOKD STREET 
 AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 ^ 
 
 
 g^3 
 
 Kin 3^ 
 U.I 
 
 '^^ 
 
 TO 
 
 ''WALTEE ASHLEIGH" 
 
 THESE 
 I'ACxES ARE AFFECTIONATELY IN.SOKIBED.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mingledyarnnovel01mack
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The warm rays of the summer sun came 
 aslant through the painted window on the 
 broad oaken staircase of the large old Manor 
 House in the village of Haseley Mere, and 
 rested on the head of its gentle occupant as, 
 with slow and somewhat uncertain steps, she 
 descended it, her gold-headed ebony stick 
 and the carved balusters needed to support 
 the small form of the old lady, on whom that 
 summer sun had shed its rays for nearly 
 eighty years. Had she stood there but a mo- 
 ment, herself and her surroundings would 
 have made a beautiful subject for . ^i 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 painter. The dark oak of the panelled 
 walls was covered with old family pictures 
 in heavy frames ; and the stairs were car- 
 peted with a crimson 7 velvet pile carpet, 
 with curtains of the same colour falling 
 before the doorway which led into the inner 
 hall. Over the large painted window, pic- 
 turesquely arranged in a star pattern, were 
 some cutlasses and swords, and beneath the 
 window, a large case of stuffed birds of 
 brilliant plumage. The httle lady herself was 
 as bright and beautiful a specimen of old age 
 as could well be imagined. Perfect health was 
 in her sweet merry face ; cheeks rosy as the 
 apples in her own orchard ; and an abun- 
 dance of thick silken hair, perfectly white, 
 lay beneath her cap, braided over the sweet 
 fair forehead like a silver band. That cap, 
 moreover, was the prettiest thing of its kind ; 
 for Mistress Elizabeth Medlicott retained the 
 artless coquetr}^ of those days when she had
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 6 
 
 turned the heads of half the county, and 
 earned for herself the title, bestowed on her 
 by her saucy companions, of "the destroyer of 
 the peace of families." And she had laughed 
 and danced away her early girlhood, and 
 then been transplanted from her country 
 home to a court, and been numbered 
 amongst the Queen's ladies, just as much a 
 favourite there. Courtiers and nobles were fas- 
 cinated by the bright smiles — the quick wit 
 ■ — the infectious cheerfulness of this fresh 
 country girl, who came amongst them like a 
 ray of sunshine, refreshing the dull monotony 
 of their court life ; and giving new zest, by 
 her own innocent delight, to the amusements 
 which palled upon them. It was strange, all 
 thought, how she herself passed on her 
 happy way, making, as it were, bright lines 
 of light — go where she would, in palace 
 or in cottage — leaving all to mourn 
 
 her absence and long for her return, and yet 
 
 b2
 
 4 A MINGLED YARN, 
 
 remain heart whole. Kind and courteous to 
 all, there was no one in her father's house, or 
 in the dissipated court of the fourth George, 
 who seemed to be singled out as the one who 
 could win and wear this sweet fresh flower ; 
 and through all these years, to her beautiful, 
 honoured, still cheerful old age, she had 
 retained the name of Mistress EHzabeth 
 Medlicott, nor had ever been known by her 
 most intimate friends to wish to change it. 
 Her sister Dorothy had married — some said 
 for his title only — the old Duke of Claverton, 
 whose large estates joined her father's. He 
 had died, and left her with four daughters 
 and a handsome fortune ; but the title had 
 gone to a distant cousin. She did not long 
 survive him ; and then Mistress Elizabeth 
 Medlicott took the poor young orphans into 
 her charge — and in her loving care they had 
 remained, not missing even their mother, 
 so tender and so wise was the guidance of 
 dear Mistress Medlicott.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. H 
 
 As she came now slowly down the stairs, 
 a loud peal of ringing laughter made her face 
 light up with pleasure, as at the sound of 
 cheerful music ; and through the velvet 
 curtains rushed four girls, varying in age from 
 twenty to sixteen, dragging along a large 
 black dos:, with a wreath of flowers round his 
 neck, and a scarlet saddle-cloth on his back, 
 on which was seated a tiny white kitteru 
 
 " Darling Auntie, where are you ? — look 
 here ! " they exclaimed, in a chorus which 
 echoed up the large staircase ; " make haste ! 
 Kitty won't stay much longer 1 quiet, Nep ! 
 keep quiet ! " 
 
 " Oh, here you are, you darling 1 " said 
 Gertrude, running to her ; and, offering her 
 her arm, she led her down the remaining 
 stairs to where the other girls stood holding 
 the dog, who was growing impatient of his 
 load and of all their frivolity, which he 
 tolerated for the love he bore his fair young
 
 6 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 mistresses, but which he felt now ill became 
 his grave years. 
 
 "You very silly maidens 1" said Auntie, 
 laughing, " will you ^ be babies for ever ? 
 Where is Dr. Stillwell all this time ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he set us free, auntie ! the day was 
 so fine, he said, it was a sin to keep young 
 things over musty books. Sunshine was 
 made for butterflies and pretty girls, and they 
 should always be flying about in it," said 
 Gertrude, standing with her golden head on 
 her Auntie's shoulder. 
 
 " He said so, or you said so — which. 
 Birdie ? " answered Mistress Elizabeth, gazing 
 into the laughing blue eyes. 
 
 " I began it, and he finished it." 
 
 " Gertrude does just as she likes with Dr. 
 Stillwell, aunt," said Lilian, the eldest ; " she 
 will never learn anything ; she does nothing 
 but play." 
 
 "Oh, Lily! never learns anything?" said the
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 7 
 
 girl, lifting lier head from its resting-place ; 
 and, standing in an upright, foi^mal attitude, 
 with folded hands, she repeated, in a mono- 
 tonous tone: "In the year 565, Columba, a 
 Celtic prince of Eoyal birth, accompanied 
 by twelve companions, crossed from Ireland 
 in a boat made of ox-hide stretched 
 over a framework of osier. They 
 formed their settlement at Skye, one of 
 the Hebrides, afterwards called Turnkill, or 
 the Island of Columba of the Celts." 
 
 " Well done ! well done ! " laughed Auntie, 
 patting her on the shoulder ; " that's more 
 than I could have said. Come, the luncheon 
 gong has sounded some time ; release Nep and 
 Kittie, and let us have some food for our 
 bodies, after Birdie's food for our minds." 
 
 Poor Nep, free from his encumbrances, 
 stretched and shook himself with a little yelp 
 of satisfaction, walked with stately steps into 
 the dining-room after his young mistresses,
 
 8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 where he laid down on the large bearskin rug ; 
 and, good Mistress Medlicott taking the head 
 of the table, the meal began with the merry 
 chatter of the girls mingling harmoniously 
 with the song of the birds coming through 
 the open window, whence, too, the scent of 
 roses from the rose garden, on which the 
 large dining-room window looked, came 
 pleasantly ; rich, heavy blossoms, hanging 
 their heads as if in shyness of their own 
 beauty, or to listen modestly to the amorous 
 bee buzzing his love song, or to shrink from 
 the admiring gaze of some large painted 
 "admiral" lying on the glossy green leaves 
 beside them. 
 
 In perfect accordance with the rich 
 luxuriance of the gardens — with their velvet 
 lawns, their wealth of flowers of every shade 
 and hue, the pretty grass walks, the foun- 
 tains, the wilderness and fernery, the green- 
 houses and hothouses — was the grand old
 
 A MINGLED YARN. D 
 
 house itself. The Medlieotts for many centuries 
 had owned this beautiful place ; and, when 
 orphaned, the poor young ladies, Lihan, 
 May, Edith, and Gertrude, stood alone in 
 their own grand home — within this, the 
 childhood's home of their mother, Mistress 
 Elizabeth urged them to take up their abode 
 with her, who had been, ever since, as second 
 mother, guardian, friend, adviser — aye, and 
 playfellow to the four girls. Tenderly she had 
 watched them, jealously guarded them from 
 taint of sin or evil ; and they grew up like 
 fair, pure lilies on one stem, yet with that 
 variety in tastes and disposition so common 
 to notice in children brought up even under 
 the same influence and in the same way. 
 
 They were not models of beauty, any of 
 them ; but a fine, high-blooded look had 
 stamped them all, and a radiance, born of 
 goodness, of cheerfulness, of single-minded- 
 ness, of contented, loving natures, shone out
 
 10 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 of their large, dee j)- set eyes, the one feature 
 which, in them all, alone was strictly 
 beautiful. 
 
 Three were fair — fair as Saxons, with the 
 glittering golden hair and the pink-white 
 skins, like the delicate lining of a shell ; but 
 May — "Gipsy May" — as the others 
 laughingly called her, was like a cluster of 
 ripe brown nuts ; glossy brown hair, with 
 golden tips, big grey, deep-set eyes and 
 roguish dimples lurking at the corner of her 
 rich red lips, and a grave earnestness in the 
 eyes, strangely contrasting with them. The 
 skin had not, either, that delicate tint of her 
 sisters, and the roses on her cheeks had a 
 richer glow. Auntie called her her " Nut- 
 Brown Maid," and if she had a treasure 
 nearest to her heart amongst her darlings, per- 
 haps it was this one, for she was her mother's 
 image. 
 
 " Where is Ma mselle ? " asked Lilian,
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 11 
 
 after they bad taken their place.s at the 
 table. 
 
 " Ob, poor old dear ! sbe never bears tbe 
 gong, somehow. I'll go and find her," said 
 Gertrude ; but the door opened as sbe rose 
 from her seat, and tbe lady entered. 
 
 " Oh ! so confuse, so shame, to be not here ; 
 pardon, Mees MedHcott," she said, hastily 
 taking her place at table, 
 
 " Never mind, Ma mselle ; make no 
 apologies ; it is only luncheon, you know." 
 
 " Did you not hear the gong. Ma mselle, 
 dear ? " asked May. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I hear him, for T sets wis 
 my door open ; but just when I was 
 about to descend, I get stop by Marie wis 
 some long tale about that poor moser of her's 
 — who is no better, she say^ — and I promise 
 to ask for some good ting to be sent her." 
 
 " By all means. See that jelly goes, Lilian, 
 dear," said her aunt, "after luncheon."
 
 12 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "You are a good thing! you dear! you," 
 said enthusiastic May, seizing the hand of 
 the little Frenchwoman, and covering it with 
 kisses. 
 
 " Ah, fie ! flatteuse ; if I was to listen 
 to all you tell me, I should be so vain, 
 so vain ; " but her face shone with pleasure, 
 as it always did, at the praises of her pupils. 
 
 Beneath the roof of the old Manor House, 
 Mademoiselle Le Clere had found a home 
 for thirteen years. She had come into the 
 grounds one day leading her poor blind 
 father, whom she was striving to support by 
 singing ballads — the last resource his sad 
 affliction had left them. Driven from his 
 home, robbed of all he owned in the world, in 
 the sad revolution of his country, he had 
 been earning a subsistence by giving music 
 lessons in the county town ; but a sick wife 
 for years was an expense he could not 
 support, and at the same time provide for
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 13 
 
 the future ; and, when death released her 
 from her suffering, he lost his sight, and 
 starvation stared them in the face. His 
 child, Lisette, had a sweet bright voice ; and, 
 taking the poor broken-hearted, sightless old 
 man by the hand, she sallied forth to try 
 this last hope. Providence led her steps 
 inte the Manor House ; Mistress Elizabeth 
 was walking down the shrubbery; the sad tale 
 was gently drawn from her, and in another 
 week Lisette was installed as nursery governess 
 to the little girls, and old Monsieur Le Clere 
 was in the Medlicott Alms-houses. Devo- 
 tion is a mild phrase to express anything like 
 the sentiments that Mademoiselle, entertained 
 for the family in which she had thus become 
 domesticated. Her home training had been 
 excellent in the happy days of their prosperity ; 
 the parents had moved in a good position; 
 and they had, in all their misfortunes, retained 
 their good manners, and never lost the stamp
 
 14 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 of their better culture — thus she became no 
 bad companion for the young ladies, and 
 they soon rapidly acquired her language. 
 Dr. Stillwell, to whom the *rest of their 
 education was intrusted, owed also a deep 
 debt of gratitude to Mistress Medlicott. 
 Through gross ill-usage of a so-called friend 
 he had lost his all, and had come to Haseley 
 Mere to canvass for the head mastership of a 
 school in Meresborough. He failed, and was 
 returning to London to join the herd of half- 
 starved daily tutors ; but Mistress Medlicott 
 heard the sad story, and assuring him that he 
 was the very person she required to teach 
 her girls Latin, Arithmetic, History Ancient 
 and Modern, and Writing, she, by this 
 amiable fiction, induced him to take 
 some pleasant lodgings in the village, and 
 accept a yearly salary to instruct the girls 
 for two hours every morning. The ladies, 
 Lilian, Mav, and Edith, had left the school-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 15 
 
 room ; only Lady Gertrude remaii^ed to him 
 now, and each morning he dreaded to be 
 told that she was no longer to receive his 
 instruction. He was so happy ; the life was 
 so peaceful, so suited to his tastes. From the 
 grand library of the Manor House to his own 
 pretty little room in the sunny village, 
 the learned books had been drafted, which 
 the enforced sale of all his property had de- 
 prived him of; and there, in the summer time, 
 with the monthly roses climbing around the 
 little window, and the pleasant sound of the 
 rippling stream that ran clear and limpid 
 down the centre of the village street, little 
 wooden bridges cros-sing it at short distances, 
 the voices of many children, the busy whirr 
 of the water mill, and the blacksmith's anvil 
 at the forge opposite — there, with all these 
 sounds, dear now to him from happy associa- 
 tion, he wrote grave disquisitions on history 
 or cla.ssic lore, essavs, and lectures, which he
 
 16 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 occasionally delivered in the Town Hall at 
 Meresborough. Gentle mannered, silent, and 
 abstracted, but with a large tenderness of 
 heart, which made him careful to hurt nobody 
 by word or deed, he was loved and respected 
 by all the village, but by none held in greater 
 reverence than by the old schoolmaster. 
 
 Peter Poyntz was a simple-minded, homely 
 old fellow, no trained master ; the school of 
 Haseley Mere was not under government 
 inspection. From his youth he had known 
 the Scriptures, and followed, to the best of 
 his human power, their precepts ; and so he 
 was deemed by the Eector a fitting person to 
 take charge of the little village boys who 
 filled the school-room, and swarmed out like 
 bees (only with far more noise) on to the 
 village green, some half-dozen of them always 
 clinging to him, as he went for the walk 
 between school hours he deemed it a duty 
 for his health to take. He wrote a good
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 17 
 
 business hand, could cast accoi^nts, and read 
 well enough to take the clerk's place when 
 he was ill or wanted a holiday. The Eector 
 thought that was enough for the youth of 
 Haseley Mere ; and though he had come 
 there quite a stranger, with threadbare 
 clothes, the people had accepted him most 
 contentedly, though they had the strange 
 feeling, prevalent in many villages, that no 
 one should be employed who did not belong 
 to the place. But poor Peter was gentle 
 and unassuming, and there was a touching 
 pleading look in his face, hard to be resisted. 
 The children took to him at once; so, for some 
 fifteen years or more, Peter Poyntz had been 
 the village schoolmaster, and had, as I have 
 said, chosen Dr. Stillwell as his model of 
 aU that was good and wise. 
 
 Many a time might the two old men be 
 seen together in the Doctor's little room, con- 
 ning some learned book, the schoolmaster 
 
 VOL. 1. c
 
 18 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 listening reverently to tlie Doctor, reverencing 
 the more because lie understood so little of 
 what he said; the Doctor, proud and pleased 
 with such an attentive auditor, stri^dng hard 
 to explain the difficult passages. They were 
 a curious contrast; the spare, thin, bent form 
 of the master, with the homely face and hands 
 bespeaking his plebeian origin, and the grave, 
 massive figure of the Doctor, with gentleman 
 stamped on every feature, and the hands 
 delicately pure and white — that unmis- 
 takeable mark of good blood. Both men 
 had suffered severely, but over one the 
 storm had passed, leaving but little trace be- 
 hind ; the other it had seemed to have 
 bruised and shaken, and left but a shadow of 
 his former self. None of the friends of his 
 youth would have recognised in that bent, 
 shrivelled form, with the sad, weary eyes, 
 the bold, blufi* Peter, the carpenter — foremost 
 at cricket, at football, at village dance, or
 
 A MINGLED YAEK 19 
 
 ^country merry-making ; tlie best singer of a 
 good drinking song, the loudest laugher at a 
 good joke. He could smile now, a smile of 
 ^reat sweetness, but it was rare, and seldom 
 bestowed on any but children. One fair- 
 haired boy would tell how, when he first 
 came to Haseley Mere, he had stopped him 
 on the green, and looking eagerly at him, 
 .asked his name; and then answered, "No, no, 
 but how like" — and, placing a hand on his 
 head, bade him be a good boy, and love and 
 honour his parents, and God would bless 
 him ; and ever since, meet him when he 
 would, he would smile at him, and if he 
 passed the school, give him j)ears from the 
 large tree that grew on the school house, 
 when they ripened, or milk or oranges ; 
 always saying the same words : "Be good 
 to your parents, and God will bless and 
 prosper you." 
 
 After the mid-day at the old Manor House, 
 
 c2
 
 20 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 the girls and Ma mselle generally went for a 
 ramble, sometimes to visit some of their 
 favourites in the village ; and on festivals, 
 Avith a basket of the fairest flowers, which 
 her pujDils helped to gather for her, Ma'm- 
 selle would visit the churchyard to lay 
 upon the blind man's grave — for the old 
 father had been for some years at rest — these 
 tokens of his loved memory. The girls would 
 wait for her by the stile which led away 
 into the meadows, or in some cottage near. 
 To-day they chose the stile, and had grouped 
 themselves quite picturesquely beside it, and 
 were laughing gaily, parrying the showers of 
 buttercups and daisies which Gertrude kept 
 throwing at them, when a manly voice, 
 saying, "By your permission, ladies," startled 
 them, and a tall fair man, with more than an 
 average amount of good looks, and a j)erfect 
 stranger to the village, appeared, wishing to 
 cross the stile. The girls rose, endeavouring
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 21 
 
 to recover their sobriety ; bnt~ Gertrude, 
 whose hands at the moment were full of the 
 flowery missiles, threw them as he spoke, 
 and, with a little , cry of dismay, started back 
 as she saw that, by the sudden movement of 
 her sisters, they had gone full in the stranger's 
 face, one or two, as they fell, remaining 
 sticking to his coat. He picked them care- 
 fully off; and, as he leapt the stile, he turned, 
 and lifting his round felt hat, displaying as 
 he did so a mass of curly chestnut hair, 
 bowed low and gracefully to Gertrude, and 
 placing the flowers in the band of the hat, 
 with a bright smile that lighted all his face, 
 he went on c[uickly across the meadows. 
 
 "Oh, Gerty!'' exclaimed the three girls. 
 
 "Well, I could not help it; you jumped up 
 so suddenly," said Gertrude, half inclined to 
 cry with vexation, as the girls, seeing 
 Ma'mselle approaching, ran eagerly forward 
 to tell her the adventure, and a fresh burst
 
 22 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 of laughter was elicited at poor Gertrude's- 
 expense. 
 
 *'0h! dere is no liarm done," said Ma'm- 
 selle, in pity to Gertrude. "If lie is a 
 stranger, ve sliall see him no more ; dat vill 
 be all rights." But the girls could not forget 
 it, or cease all the way home to wonder who 
 he was, so rarely through their quiet village 
 did any one pass whom they did not know 
 by sight. 
 
 "Where is Auntie?" was the first question 
 on their arrival. She was in her room, 
 the servant said. Then they must postpone 
 telling her this wonderful news, for they 
 respected this one peculiarity most rigidly; 
 she could not bear to be disturbed when she 
 had taken refuge in her own apartment. It 
 was not often, or for long at a time, that she 
 did so; but there were days in the year when, 
 as soon as she had presided at the luncheon, 
 she went to her room, locked her door, and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 23 
 
 requested that she might be alone until her 
 bell rang. This order was never infringed, 
 but to-day it was a sad trial to Gertrude to 
 wait. She was so longing to tell Auntie 
 about their adventure with the stranger; but, 
 consoling herself by makings the other girls 
 promise that she might tell it all herself, and 
 that when Auntie came down they would call 
 her directly, she betook herself to the 
 large pleasant room devoted to the girls' use. 
 It looked out on the lawn, with a peep 
 through the trees at the village beyond, and 
 had a large bow window, and deep window- 
 seat, where May delighted to tuck herself up 
 and read. It was a room between two 
 others, in which the girls slept ; Gertrude 
 and May sharing one, Lilian and Edith the 
 other. Often in the winter nights they 
 would all sit in their dressing-gowns over 
 the fire ; or, in the summer, by the window 
 in the large room, talking and laughing
 
 24 .A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 when poor Ma'mselle, having tenderly 
 kissed tliem all, thought they were peace- 
 fully sleeping, till Gertrude's ringing 
 laugh would betray them, and she would 
 come back gently to chide and bid them 
 all to bed. 
 
 Here Gertrude now tried to amuse herself 
 until the bell rang she so longed to hear. 
 Strange it would have been to her and all 
 the girls if they could have seen into that 
 room and watched the dear little Auntie they 
 loved so much, seated before a desk, from 
 which she had taken a large packet of papers, 
 yellow with age, and seen the large tears 
 slowly coursing down the cheeks and dropping 
 on the papers held in her trembling hands. 
 See her press to her lips one tied round with 
 blue ribband, and then open and read it, a 
 smile shining amongst the tears. 
 
 It is in a boy's large school-boy hand, 
 blotted and untidy ; about his games, his
 
 A MINGLED YAPvN. 25 
 
 work, his favourite friends ; but there is a 
 postscript, over which she lingers — '' IVe got 
 the sprig of mjrrtle you gave me safe ; I shall 
 keep it for ever." 
 
 She opens another paper, the tearful smile 
 still on her face ; there is a sprig of myrtle in 
 it, and a curl of brown hair ; they are folded 
 away in the big letter, and then she opens 
 another, in a more formal hand, though 
 evidently the same, and the smile fades away, 
 leaving only the tears, as she reads the sweet 
 passionate words, signed with the same 
 signature as the former — "Bertie." 
 
 " Poor boy," she murmured ; " but it was 
 better as it was ; and he knew I loved him 
 too well to let him Avreck his own happi- 
 ness," and she read a letter, which was thus 
 endorsed: ''A copy of my answer to poor 
 Bertie. God bless and make him hap23y." 
 
 She read it through before she folded it 
 up again, and then took from another eu-
 
 S6 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 velope a cutting from a newspajDer and a letter 
 worn with much reading. The paragraph 
 announced the loss of the troop ship 
 Euphrates. Amongst the sufferers named 
 was the Honourable Bertie AUeyne, youngest 
 son of the Earl of Beauwater, and the letter 
 was one from his mother, in which she wrote : 
 ^' I send you, my dear Elizabeth, a lock of 
 hair which I believe to be yours, and a sprig of 
 myrtle my beloved son has evidently treasured 
 for your sake. I cannot throw away what he 
 has valued, and you are the best person to- 
 have it. Doubtless you will laugh at his. 
 boyish passion, but it was a very true one ; 
 and I only hope, my dear girl, the husband 
 you choose will love you as truly." 
 
 Yes, this was Mistress Medlicott's story ; 
 she had inspired young Bertie AUeyne with 
 a passion not uncommon in young lads for 
 girls much their elders ; and at first 
 Elizabeth had laughed at and petted him
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 27 
 
 alternately ; but at length the genuine love, 
 the freshness and truth of the young adorer, 
 contrasted with the hollo wness of the courtiers 
 surrounding her, touched her heart, and she 
 found that for ever in her thoughts and in 
 her dreams was the voice and face of Bertie 
 AUeyne. She had steadily refused to hsten 
 to him seriously; but now an order came for 
 him to g6 with his regiment abroad, and he 
 once more pressed his suit and implored her 
 to promise to be his wife on his return. Her 
 common sense, of which she had an unusual 
 share, showed her that this would be folly ; 
 that, in years of absence, the impetuous love 
 would fade; and that, when he returned in the 
 full bloom of manhood, he might feel — which 
 he refused to acknowledge now — pained by 
 the difference of age, which would then be 
 more marked. But it was with bitter tears 
 falling on the paper that she refused his 
 earnest pleading. She would not see him,
 
 28 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 lest her resolution should fail ; and only gave 
 him this word of hope — that if he returned to 
 find her unmarried, and he himself was in the 
 same mind, she would then, perhaps, be his 
 wife. With this he was fain to be content ; 
 and, writing one more passionate letter of love 
 and regret, he left England — to return no 
 more. In the cold waters his love and his hfe 
 ended ; and Mistress Elizabeth Medlicott, 
 burying in her heart his secret and her own, 
 went on her way with the same sweet un- 
 selfish cheerfulness and consideration for 
 others which made her so j^opular, leaving, 
 as I said, all to wonder why no one won and 
 wore the fairest and brightest ornament of 
 the English Court. 
 
 When she had carefully read all these 
 papers she folded them in a large envelope 
 and directed them to the Lady Lilian, and 
 having sealed them carefully, she deposited 
 them in her desk, leaving only out the sprig
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 29 
 
 of myrtle, on the paper containing which, 
 she wrote, " To be buried with me ; " 
 and then, going to the window, she let 
 the sweet summer breeze blow on her 
 face, to bear away on its wings the traces 
 of tears ; and with a slight laugh, she 
 said, half aloud, as she turned away, and 
 taking her ebony stick prepared to go 
 downstairs : 
 
 " Who would think an old woman like me 
 could be such a fool ? But when I look at 
 those things I feel again only twenty. Ah I 
 well; it has been like a potent charm, keeping 
 me from evil, all these years I believe — and 
 past already man's allotted time upon earth — 
 I may hope soon to go to him ; '' and in a 
 few moments more the bell had sounded 
 Gertrude had stayed to hear, and " Auntie '' 
 was descending the stairs to take her place 
 in the library, where she always sat until 
 dinner.
 
 30 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 At tlie entrance to the village of Haseley 
 Mere there was an old house called the Priory, 
 having, like all old houses, a score of legends 
 attached to it. Haunted rooms and strange 
 noises, and blue-lights, making nervous ser- 
 vants give warning, and causing the vil- 
 lagers to come home by a longer road rather 
 than pass at night the Priory grounds. It 
 was certainly well calculated to have such 
 an evil character, for one wing of it was 
 uninhabited ; in the other there were four or 
 five large rooms which were entered by a 
 dark staircase from the gallery, into which the 
 principal bedrooms opened, which were also 
 untenanted, save by spiders and rats and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 31 
 
 mice, the latter, probably, the real culprits 
 in the matter of the ghostly noises reported 
 to be heard. But the house had obtained a 
 bad character years ago, when a ghastly 
 murder had been perpetrated there, and the 
 house had remained for many years un- 
 inhabited. It was taken then by a miserable 
 miser, tempted by the low rent offered for 
 the grand old place, and he died in one of the 
 rooms, and was not discovered till the length 
 of time since he had been seen excited the 
 curiosity of some poor cottagers near, and, 
 forcing the door, they found the wretched 
 being, who had thus died alone and un- 
 tended. Again, for another long period, the 
 house stood empty ; and then the present 
 possessor bought it, had it put in thorough 
 repair, laid out the grounds witli most ex- 
 quisite taste, and took possession of it one 
 warm summer evening, appearing in the 
 large moth-eaten pew on Sunday, an object
 
 32 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 of intense interest to the villagers. He was 
 accompanied by a pale fair girl, more 
 interesting than pretty, but with such a look 
 of sadness in her large dark eyes, that she 
 attracted the attention and raised the 
 curiosity of the congregation tenfold. 
 
 "Why, my dear," said Mrs. Pope the 
 butcher's wife, to Mrs. Snip the tailor's wife, 
 "it's most unnatural ; the poor young thing can 
 be scarcely seventeen, and she looks as 
 though she had the cares of the whole world 
 on her. Is it his wife or his daughter ? I 
 heard he was married." 
 
 "Daughter, my dear creature, surely; why 
 he must be a long way the other side of forty." 
 
 "Well, but she may have been forced into 
 the marriage, or summat of that sort ; for 
 there must be some reason for that ere young 
 thing to have such a look upon her, when 
 she ought to be as gay and winsome as the 
 birds on the trees."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 33 
 
 " Well, we shall know in time ; he's a 
 handsome man enough, and if she's his 
 daughter, I'm sure he's uncommon kind and 
 civil to her." 
 
 The same kind of conversation went on 
 throughout the village, and the subject 
 was discussed also at the Manor House, the 
 terribly sad, pale face of the young girl 
 having also attracted the notice of the young 
 ladies there. The new comers served the 
 village for gossip for some time, and at 
 length, by dint of persevering enquiry, they 
 learned that Mr. Ashleigh was a man of 
 immense property, made in AustraUa ; that 
 he was supposed to be a widower, and this 
 was his only daughter, and he had two sons. 
 
 On the day when my story opens, seated 
 on the lawn of the Priory gardens was a 
 young, bright, handsome fellow, with a 
 cricketing hat set jauntily on the top of his 
 chestnut curls, in which was stuck a bunch 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 of buttercups. On the ground, stretched 
 out at full length, playing with a little skye 
 terrier, was another young man, shorter than 
 his companion, who was above the ordinary 
 height, with dark hair and eyes, a slight 
 brown moustache, and with a kindly look 
 in his face, which made him better than 
 handsome ; he was laughing heartily now at 
 the remarks of his companion, who, seated 
 with one leg thrown over the arm of the garden 
 chair on which he was lolling, w^as running 
 on a string of absurdities, which, though not 
 witty, were sufficiently ridiculous to create 
 merriment. 
 
 " What a fellow you are, Eupert," said his 
 companion; "but you have by no means satis- 
 factorily explained why you cannot stop here 
 until Monday, and then we could both go to 
 town together." 
 
 . " My dear Walter, I hate explanations ; 
 I never ask for them, and I never give
 
 A MINGLED YARN. ^^ S^ 
 
 them ; they're never satisfactory, and seldom 
 convincing. I can't because I can't, that 
 says all that is necessary, and saves a woful 
 waste of time and breath." 
 
 "Well, you shan't go until after dinner, 
 if I die for it. Oh, bother ! here's the 
 governor;" and as he spoke, from the front 
 windows of the library, Mr. Ashleigh 
 •stepped out on to the lawn, and coming 
 forward with both hands extended, he said: 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Carrington, I'm charmed 
 to see you ; it's a sight good for sore eyes, 
 to use a homely but expressive phrase. 
 This is your first visit to our new abode." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the young man, rising 
 and taking the extended hands. " I don't 
 know how it is, all my friends complain 
 of me." 
 
 "Then turn over a new leaf, my boy, 
 
 ^nd come and see us often," answered Mr. 
 
 Ashleigh, seating himself beside Carring- 
 
 d2
 
 36 A MINGLED YAEX. 
 
 ton. " My dear Walter, can you not find 
 some better occupation than teasing j^^^^ 
 little Shock?" 
 
 " I have not tried, sir," answered Walter, 
 still continuing to induce Shock to sit up ; 
 " I am so well satisfied with this one." 
 
 "On the j)rinciple of small minds being 
 amused with small things, eh ? " answered 
 his father, with a smile upon his very hand- 
 some face, which, to many who came in 
 contact Avith him, was more aggravating 
 than agreeable. 
 
 " I have not gone into the matter at all, sir ; 
 sit up, you naughty Httle animal, do," he 
 said, administering a box on the ear to the 
 dog of such a severe character that Shock 
 rolled over on her back, and wagged her 
 tail and licked his hands, and shewed she 
 had evidently mistaken the reproof for a 
 caress. " Go along. Shock ; I shan't take 
 any more j^ains with you. You are as in-
 
 A MINGLED YARX. 37 
 
 corrigibly stupid as your master. Come and 
 look at the nags, Eupe." 
 
 " You are going to stay, I trust, Carring- 
 ton?" said Mr. Ashleigh, as Walter rose 
 from the ground and put his arm through 
 Kupert's. 
 
 " No, sir ; only an hour or so." 
 
 " Dear, dear, I am so sorry ; for I am 
 unfortunately going out to dine, so I shall 
 not see you again. Walter, try and persuade 
 your friend to give us . the pleasure of his 
 company, at least until Monday." 
 
 " I have, my dear father, done all I could, 
 iind I have signally failed. 
 
 " Has Grace tried her extraordinary powers 
 of persuasion ? " asked Mr. Ashleigh, with 
 another of his peculiar smiles. 
 
 " I don't think Grace is in," said Walter, 
 hurriedly, and a shade of annoyance passed 
 over his face as he spoke. " Come along," he 
 said, giving his friend's arm an impatient pull.
 
 38 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Good-bye, then, Carrington ; as I can- 
 not have the pleasure of saying ' au revoir/ 
 remember me to Major Carrington. He's 
 well, I hope ? " 
 
 "He was very well a day or two ago, 
 sir — good-bye," answered Carrington, as 
 another pull of his arm reminded him of his 
 friend's impatience. 
 
 " Have a cigar ? " asked Walter, when, the 
 adieux completed, they were strolling along. 
 
 ''Don't mind. Pop, if I do; are they 
 good ? I'm nasty particular." 
 
 " Well, taste and try ; you're welcome to 
 throw it away if you like — or rather if you 
 don't Hke, eh?" 
 
 "I say, what are you at?" exclaimed 
 Eupert, as Walter began trying to push the 
 buttercups from his hat with a little cane he 
 had in his hand. 
 
 "Why, what are these concerns in your 
 hat?"
 
 A MINGLED YARK 39 
 
 ''Don't touch them, my dear fellow; 
 they're priceless/' 
 
 " Eeally ! I shouldn't have thought it, 
 seeing the millions that grow in this neigh- 
 bourhood ; but I suppose they're rare in 
 yours." 
 
 *' My dear Pop, they were thrown at me by 
 one of the prettiest little girls I have ever seen 
 — four pretty girls, I may say. Tell me who 
 they are ; " and he related his adventure, and 
 gave a description of the ladies. 
 
 " The ladies of the Manor House, I'm 
 sure ; they are nice girls ; but I can't see theii* 
 beauty." 
 
 '' Of course not, Pop, you never can ;- 
 you're the most difficult fellow to please 1 
 ever saw." 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon ; but you're 
 always going into fits about somebody's 
 beauty, and I'm sick, too, of hearing of those 
 Medhcott girls."
 
 40 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 : " Medlicott ! Is that their name ? " 
 
 "No, not a bit; but I invariably call 
 them so. They re swells, you know — 
 daughters of the Duke of Claverton, rejoic- 
 ing in the respective names of Lady Lilian, 
 Lady Edith, Lady May, and Lady Gertrude 
 Murray. But, I say, old fellow, I could 
 show you one worth a dozen of them — and 
 she's only a farmer's daughter." 
 
 " Oh ! hang it, man ! don't go and do 
 that sort of thing," said Eupert. 
 
 "Whatsort of thing?" 
 
 **Why, getting up a sentimental love, 
 which would be a deuce of a bore to you 
 after a bit. It reads so prettily in a book — 
 cottage covered with vines ; doves in the 
 porch ; Mary standing feeding them — short 
 petticoats — beautiful ankle — straw hat — 
 wavy wealth of chestnut hair, and all that 
 sort of thing; but I wouldn't, if I were you." 
 
 " Why, Eupert, you're writing a three-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. , 41 
 
 volume novel. Don't be alarmed, my dear 
 fellow, sentiment's not in my line ; but we 
 were talking of beauty, and I say my little 
 Kathleen 'Brian is prettier than all the fine 
 ladies I ever saw." 
 
 " Kathleen O'Brian ! What ! a Paddy ? '^ 
 
 " Yes ; with the prettiest taste of the 
 brogue I ever heard. Her father was a 
 soldier, and married an Irish girl. She has 
 been in Ireland a great deal ; but she was 
 born in England. Her father and mother 
 are both dead ; and she lives with her grand- 
 parents — a jolly old couple — farmers of the 
 old school. You shall see her next time you 
 come down." 
 
 "Ah! I don't know when that will be. 
 I see you in town, you know, and I — I don't 
 like the country much." 
 
 " Queer chap, you are, Kupert. I say, 
 we're lounging away all our time, and you've 
 i^een nothing. Oh ! I say, I tell you what
 
 42 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Ill do — take you to see your divinities. 
 I ought to drop a pasteboard there. I 
 didn t call last time I was down ; there's 
 lots of time before dinner. If they're at 
 home, 111 introduce you to the party I 
 think of making up to. My sweet 
 little Mistress Elizabeth Medlicott is a 
 jewel." 
 
 " Who's she ? " asked Kupert, as they 
 turned towards the house." 
 
 " A delightful little lady, as you wiU say, 
 when you see her ; she takes care of these: 
 ladies — they, poor lassies ! being orphans. 
 Here's Grace ! Caj)tain Carrington will not 
 stay longer than this evening, Grace." 
 
 "So my father told me," said the girl 
 offering her hand to their guest. " You 
 have disappointed Walter, I am sure ; he 
 reckoned on your remaining until Monday." 
 The tones of her voice, very low and soft, 
 were as sad as the expression of her face.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 43- 
 
 which did not change or light up into any 
 smile of welcome, but kept its calm, joyless 
 look and pallid colour. 
 
 "I am sorry, but I cannot stay,^' said 
 Kupert, as he offered her his arm and led her 
 through the open window into the library, 
 where it was Mr. Ashleigh's fancy to take all 
 meals but dinner, and where the luncheon 
 was still on the table. 
 
 It was a superb room, speaking of the great 
 wealth, and taste also, of its possessor. Books 
 covered the walls entirely, except over the 
 mantel-piece, and there hung a full-length 
 portrait of a beautiful woman, which, by its 
 likeness to both Walter and Grace, told that 
 it was their mother. 
 
 "How is Everard, by the bye, Pop?" 
 asked Eupert. " I beg your pardon. Miss 
 Ashleigh ; I know you do not approve of 
 my name for your brother."
 
 44 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 *' I own I prefer the name lie was chris- 
 tened," said Grace. 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense, Grace; I like Pop ever so 
 much better, it takes so much less time to say; 
 besides, it has a delicious twang of school days 
 about it which is refreshing. How was it I 
 got called so first, Kupert ? I declare I 
 forget." 
 
 " Oh ! by one of those outrageously ridicu- 
 lous round-about ways schoolboys do pick up 
 their names. Your brother's second name is 
 Cannon ; well, that's a thing that shoots, so 
 he always went by the name of gun ; then, 
 when you came a Httle chap, they must have 
 something smaller than gun, so you were 
 Pop-gun, and that, of course, was readily 
 made into Pop ; and so I, braving, with in- 
 finite audacity. Miss Ashleigh's displeasure, 
 have continued to call you." 
 
 " And go on, old fellow, to the end of the
 
 A MINGLED YARX. / 45 
 
 chapter ; I like it. Will you have a glass of 
 sherry or anything ? " 
 
 " Thank you, I seldom take anything 
 before dinner. You Ve never answered my 
 question yet — ^how is Everard ? " 
 
 ''Oh! I don't know ; how is he, Grace ? " 
 
 " Very well, I think ; he is so very busy. 
 I kept the luncheon for him, but he has 
 ordered it now in his room.'' 
 
 " Busy — an old book-worm," said Walter, 
 laughing, "I wouldnt muddle my unfortu- 
 nate brains as he does for a fortune ; why, I 
 should go mad.'' 
 
 ** What's he studying now ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know, trying to find 
 out if the world is flat or round, as if it 
 would possibly signify to us. We've got to 
 live on it a little while, whatever shape it is, 
 and I don't think it will improve the state of 
 afiairs to have our ideas, which we've learnt 
 from childhood — ' What is this earth ? ' 'A
 
 46 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 round ball on which we live ' — disturbed by 
 such suggestions." 
 
 *' Yes, there is certainly a great cruelty in 
 doing away with our innocent delusions ; we 
 shall want to return to nunneries and monas- 
 teries if we are to be assured that the world is 
 not round, and that all our dolls are stuffed 
 with sawdust," said Eupert, laughing. " Can 
 I see Everard before I go ? " 
 
 " Ask Mr. Everard, Stephens," said Walter, 
 turning to the man-servant who was clearing 
 the table, "if Captain Carrington can see him 
 before he leaves ? " 
 
 The message returned was that Mr. Everard 
 could not be disturbed until seven o'clock, and 
 then he should be pleased to see the Captain. 
 
 " Then he will be deprived of that delight 
 to-day," said Rupert. 
 
 " Grace, dear, I'm going to the Manor 
 House with Eupert ; do you feel inclined to 
 come ? " asked Walter.
 
 A MINGLED YA^.V At 
 
 " No, thank you, dear," slie answered, with 
 that sad, indifferent voice, so painful to hear, 
 
 " Well, take care of yourself, little woman," 
 said Walter, kindly ; and, kissing her on the 
 forehead, he and his friend set out on their 
 excursion. 
 
 " We need not go through tlie village, 
 need we ? " said Rupert. 
 
 "No; if you prefer it, we can cross the 
 stile opposite the house, and go over some 
 fields." 
 
 " Yes, by all means, that way then ; I hate 
 villages, don't you ? " 
 
 " Can t say I do ; don't see why one 
 should." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know ; they're full of dirty 
 children, and old women, and pigs, and 
 churchyards, and lolly-pop shops." 
 
 " Rupert ! what a specimen you are. 
 Look there amongst the trees. You can 
 just see the chimneys of the Manor House.
 
 48 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 It s not a long walk, is it ? Who comes 
 here ? Oh ! old Poyntz, the schoolmaster, 
 md Dr. StiUwell." 
 
 Had Walter glanced at his friend's face, 
 he would have been startled to see its 
 pallor. 
 
 "Who do you say?" he asked. "Dr. 
 Stillwell? Who is he when he's at 
 home ? " 
 
 " Tutor to the ladies at the Manor 
 House." 
 
 " Ah ! yes— what's that ? " and to Walter's 
 infinite astonishment, his friend took a 
 sudden leap over a gate into the next 
 meadow as the two old men approached 
 them. Dr. Stillwell lifted his hat to Walter 
 with a courteous "Good-day, Mr. Ashleigh"; 
 but Po3riitz seemed struck with the 
 sudden leap taken by Eupert, and stood, with 
 his hand shading his eyes, looking after him. 
 Walter, laughing, went on calling to Rupert
 
 A MINGLED YARN. ^ 49 
 
 to come back — that was not tlie way, and 
 Poyntz, moving on, joined the Doctor, who 
 was many paces in advance. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Poyntz,'' he said, kindly, 
 "did that leap of the young man startle you ? 
 You look pale." 
 
 "Do I, sir ? It was well vaulted. I could 
 do so in my young days. Well done — very 
 well done. Ah ! " he said, with a heavy 
 sigh, " I should like to — " and then he 
 stopped, as though his voice was about to 
 break into tears, and walked on in silence. 
 
 The good doctor began to speak of other 
 subjects. He felt, with the instinct of his 
 kindly heart, that the poor old man had 
 struck some chord of memory which was too 
 painful to be dwelt on, and strove to lead his 
 thoughts into another channel. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Kupert had rejoined 
 Walter, who was, of course, fuU of curiosity 
 
 VOL. T. E
 
 50 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 to know the reason of the sudden exhibition 
 of his leaping powers. 
 
 He laughed immoderately — first said he 
 thought he saw a rabbit, and jumped over to 
 see if it was ; then that he only did it to 
 astonish Walter ; and he could get nothing 
 more out of him till they stood before the 
 gates of the Manor House. 
 
 Gertrude had had the pleasure of telling 
 her aunt of the adventure with the stranger, 
 and was standing now with folded arms 
 leaning on the window sill, her bright, 
 merry face resting on them, looking out of 
 the window in a happy state of idle- 
 ness, having coaxed Dr. Stillwell to 
 put aside work for the day, when she 
 suddenly sprang back, and with her face 
 all aglow, said, " Auntie — Auntie — here he 
 comes." 
 
 '' He, my love — who ? " 
 
 "The stranger; he is with young Mr.
 
 A MINGLED ^ARN^ 51 
 
 Ashleigh. Oh ! I must go and tell the 
 girls ; " and away she flew to their room to 
 make this wonderful announcement as the 
 young men were shown into the drawing- 
 room ; and Auntie, following, was in due 
 form presented to Captain Eupert Car- 
 rington. 
 
 After some common-place remarks on the 
 weather, the beautiful place, &c.. Mistress 
 Medlicott rang a small hand-bell on the table 
 near her, and desired the servant who 
 answered the summons to request that Lady 
 Lilian and her sisters would come into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 '' I think, Mr. Ashleigh," she said, " Lady 
 Lilian has some message for your sister, 
 which you will, perhaps, kindly convey 
 to her." 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Medlicott; I shall be 
 <lelighted." 
 
 The door opened, and Walter gave a 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 52 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 sly glance at Eupert as three of the girls 
 entered ; but he rose, with perfect composure, 
 and with a grace of manner and ease which 
 Walter thought wonderful as well as beautiful, 
 he bowed to the ladies as their aunt introduced 
 them ; and then, turning to poor little Ger- 
 trude, whose face, even to the tips of her ears, 
 was crimson, said : "I did not think when 
 I passed you to-day I should so soon have the 
 honour of making your acquaintance." 
 
 Walter rose, as Gertrude stammered 
 some answer, and, taking a chair nearer to 
 Mistress Medlicott, addressed himself to her 
 and the other two ladies. May and 
 Edith, leaving poor little blushing 
 Gertrude and Eupert to improve their 
 acquaintance ; and he could hear him 
 running on in his bright voice with a flow of 
 conversation which seemed at last to put 
 Gertrude at her ease ; and he could hear her 
 merry laugh at his absurd suggestions
 
 A MINGLED YARN. ^ 53 
 
 through his graver conversation with the 
 others. 
 
 " Had not your sister Lilian some message 
 for Miss Ashleigh, Edith?" asked Mistress 
 Medlicott. 
 
 " I do not know/' said Edith ; " I will go 
 and ask her, if you like." 
 
 *' Can she not come down ? " 
 
 " She is writing some letters for the post, 
 Auntie dear, I think ; shall I go and ask 
 her ? " said May. 
 
 "Yes, do, my darling, and bring her 
 with you, if you can, to deliver her own 
 message." 
 
 Away went the little maiden, and came 
 <]uickly back, saying Lady Lilian begged to 
 be excused coming down ; that her message 
 to Miss Ashleigh was, that the young doves 
 she had promised her were quite old enough 
 to leave the parent, and were ready whenever 
 she liked to send for them.
 
 54 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 *' Thank you ; I will tell my sister. She 
 will be so pleased to have them. How goes. 
 on the aviary ? " 
 
 "Oh! beautifully; will you come and see 
 it?" 
 
 ''I shall be delighted. The Captain will 
 like to see the Fernery and Orchid houses, I 
 think ; should you not, Kupert ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon? " 
 
 Walter repeated, with half a smile, his 
 question. 
 
 *'0h, yes! certainly." 
 
 "Where are the keys. Auntie, dear — 
 here ? " asked May. 
 
 "Yes, love, in the basket on the table. 
 You had better have some shawls and hats,, 
 for the Orchid houses are so warm, you 
 will find it quite cold when you come out." 
 
 " We shan't hurt, Auntie, dear ; we shaU 
 not be in them long enough. I can scarcely 
 breathe in them,' said Gertrude.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 55 
 
 " Strange the objection young folks have 
 to take care of themselves, Captain," said 
 Mistress Medlicott, turning with a smile to 
 Eupert. "You will return to this room, 
 will you not ? and you will find some tea, 
 if that is a beverage you can condescend to 
 take. " 
 
 "I do. Miss Medhcott," said Walter; "but 
 I believe that heathen prefers bitter beer." 
 
 " Do not be malicious, Pop ; indeed. 
 Madam, I think tea is an admirable in- 
 vention, and a charming excuse for pleasant 
 little assemblies. You have no idea how I 
 go to the teas in town, and how I am compH- 
 mented for my singular good taste. The 
 ladies say they can get so few men to come." 
 
 "Then you shall have a first-rate cup to 
 encourage your good taste," said Auntie, 
 laughing; and through the conservatory to 
 the aviary, and into the Orchid houses and 
 forcing houses, the young party wandered
 
 56 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 along — Eupert keeping up a merry bantering 
 chatter with May and Gertrude, but failing 
 to elicit more tban the briefest replies from 
 Edith. 
 
 Walter had often essayed making her talk, 
 but had given it up as hopeless. She 
 raised her large, soft, deep blue eyes to his 
 face, answered his questions in the shortest 
 way, and relapsed into silence. It was a 
 cause of incessant banter from her other 
 sisters ; but she heeded it not, and still pre- 
 served her reticence. 
 
 On their return to the drawing-room, they 
 found the tea served in exquisite Sevres 
 cups, each one seeming to deserve a glass 
 case to itself, and they called forth warm 
 admiration from Eupert, who went up 
 fourfold in the old lady's opinion — her china 
 was a great weakness. His admiration led to 
 her shewing him a case of Wedgewood, some 
 Dresden and Chelsea china; so that their
 
 A MINGLED YARN.x^ 57 
 
 visit extended itself to a length which made 
 Walter think it necessary to apologise. 
 
 '* Pray do not offer any apology, Mr. 
 Ashleigh," said the dear little lady. "We are 
 pleased to see our neighbours, and only 
 wish that you and your sister would come 
 oftener. She must find it dull when you are 
 in town T 
 
 " Yes; poor Grace looks forward to seeing 
 me, I think." 
 
 ''You will tell her about the doves, Mr. 
 Ashleigh, will you not ? " said May. 
 
 " And she must tell us what she calls them," 
 said Gertrude. "We have named ours Hero 
 and Leander, Beatrice and Benedict, Eomeo 
 and Juliet." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Ashleigh ; and, would 
 you beheve it, Eomeo pecked out Juliet s 
 eye," said May, laughing. "They are 
 Gertrude's birds ; how badly she must have 
 educated them, must she not?"
 
 58 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Even the best education will sometimes 
 fail in producing good characters. I cannot al- 
 together consider this Lady Gertrude's fault." 
 
 " Thank you, Captain Carrington ; I have 
 never heard the last from May of this sad 
 dereliction of duty on the part of Komeo. 
 I know I saw her Beatrice pecking some 
 feathers out of Benedict, and I am sure that 
 ■was much worse." 
 
 "Hen-pecking is a common ojffence, though, 
 is it not ? " said Eupert, with a sly smile. 
 
 ''Carrington, my good fellow," said Walter^ 
 "we really must go, and if you begin an 
 argument with Lady Gertrude, I think I can 
 answer for your getting the worst of it." 
 
 " Then I will beat a retreat ; discretion is. 
 the better part of valour," and, bidding the 
 ladies good-bye, the two young men departed. 
 
 They were scarcely outside the door when 
 Eupert gave Walter a tremendous push, and 
 said : " Why, Pop, you re a bigger muff than
 
 A MINGLED YARN: . 59 
 
 I took you for ; they're beautiful, every one 
 of them." 
 
 '' In the first place, my dear fellow," said 
 Walter, as he made an eflfort to preserve 
 his equilibrium, " you did not see every one 
 of them; and in the second, I do not see why 
 I am to be called a muff because I can see no* 
 beauty in the Ladies Murray. They have 
 good skins and fine eyes, but that does not 
 constitute beauty." 
 
 " But it goes a long way." 
 
 " I admit that ; but beauty is perfection ; 
 and I do not see it in them." 
 
 ''Nor will you ever see it on earth, old 
 boy." 
 
 "Ah ! you have not seen Kathleen 'Brian," 
 said Walter, laughing. 
 
 "Oh, stuff ! a beauty with black nails and 
 red hands." 
 
 " But she has neither, Kupert ; on my 
 word."
 
 60 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 ** Walter/' said Eupert, stopping in the 
 road, taking his friend by the arm, and 
 speaking with more earnestness than was 
 natural to him, ''for pity's sake do not be 
 led into an unequal marriage. Among the 
 many evils and sorrows of this evil world, 
 more than half of which we bring on our- 
 selves, the one which has in it more of bitter- 
 ness than any comes of an ill-assorted 
 marriage." 
 
 "Halloa, old fellow! bursting out in a new 
 line ? have no fear, I'm not a marrying man ; 
 I like my own way too well to risk losing 
 it. I like all the nice little girls I see, but 
 I have never yet seen one I should like to 
 bind myself to for life." 
 
 " Humph ! well, no ; I suppose that is a 
 subject for mature consideration," said 
 Eupert ; '' although, in these enhghtened 
 days, we need not be quite so alarmed, for 
 we can advise with our 'future,' as Lord
 
 A MINGLED YARN.^ 61 
 
 Dundreary did. If you don't like it, you 
 can go back, you know." 
 
 Walter laughed as he answered, *'Yes, a 
 very convenient arrangement that." 
 
 "They are charming girls, "said Kupert, after 
 a moment's pause; "only that beautiful sta- 
 tuesque one won't talk. I should like to 
 make her — I must come down again soon 
 and see you, Walter. I think the country 
 is so awfully jolly." 
 
 " I thought you could not bear it — you 
 said so just now." 
 
 " Did I ? Ah ! I often alter my mind." 
 
 " So it seems," said Walter. " Hark ! 
 there's the gong going for dressing; we shall 
 be late. I am glad the governor's out ; if one 
 thing upsets his lordship's temper more than 
 another, it is our being late for dinner." 
 
 "Is his temper still as agreeable as usual?" 
 asked Eupert. 
 . " Yes ; if anything rather more so."
 
 62 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "What a life for your poor sister." 
 
 Walter turned quickly and looked at him 
 as he answered, earnestly : 
 
 *' She does not mind it in the least, I assure 
 you ; she is quite happy in her way ; that 
 sad face is natural to her." 
 
 "It is very piteous to see, in one so 
 young." 
 
 " Keally, Eupert, I think you waste your 
 compassion. My sister has nothing to be 
 pitied for," he said, with something of irrita- 
 tion in his manner. 
 
 " Forgive me. Pop ; I mean no offence," 
 said Eupert, laying his hand kindly on 
 Walter. 
 
 " I know ; but it's a subject that always 
 rubs my fur up the wrong way," said Walter, 
 with an effort at a laugh. " As far as any 
 cause for sadness goes, I have as much as 
 Grace has, only I don't ' carry my heart on 
 my sleeve for daws to peck at ' ; here we are.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 63 
 
 By-the-bye, old fellow, excuse the apparent 
 impertinence of my question, but considering 
 you bad no intention of staying, what did 
 you want with luggage ? " 
 
 " A very natural inquiry, my dear Pop. I 
 have, as I have just told you, a faculty for 
 changing my mind, and so I came provided 
 against that contingency — luckily, you see, 
 as it has turned out, for I am going to stay 
 to dinner, and so have my evening 'togs/" 
 
 " I think you must make haste and dress 
 then, for we have only ten minutes, and the 
 cook is hideously punctual," said Walter, as 
 they entered the house. 
 
 " I shan't be five," said Eupert, springing 
 up-stairs four steps at a time, " my chignon 
 is so easily adjusted." 
 
 He kept his word, entering the drawing- 
 room not a second before the old butler 
 announced dinner. 
 
 Everard Ashleigh had come down from
 
 64 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 his abstruse studies, and received his brother's 
 friend with his accustomed gentle courtesy. 
 Eather above the middle height, with 
 a pale, grave face, dark, grey eyes, a 
 superb row of white even teeth, which gave 
 a brilliancy to his sad smile, there was some- 
 thing singularly attractive in the appearance 
 of Everard ; but the young ladies were afraid of 
 him, he was ''so awfully clever"; and the 
 young men avoided him, he was "so awfully 
 slow." He saw no amusement in racing round 
 a room at a hard galop, with his arm round a 
 young lady's waist ; no pleasure in puffing a 
 quantity of smoke into the air, and drawing 
 a large amount into his own lungs ; no 
 recreation in knocking some balls through a 
 variety of hoops ; or all those different ways 
 of killing time and diverting themselves 
 which those around him dehghted in ; to him 
 "Life was real, life was earnest." He could 
 not to himself satisfactorily solve the problem
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 65 
 
 of why man exists here at all, but if it was 
 to fit him for a higher state of existence — a 
 task of probation — to ennoble his mind, 
 to train himself to pure and exalted tastes, 
 must be his plain duty ; and a mere 
 frivolous getting rid of time was simply 
 wicked. He taught himself to believe that 
 each moment was to carry its item to the 
 sum total, to be reckoned up finally against 
 him ; that " To-day was yesterday returned, 
 returned full power, to expiate, raise, adorn, 
 and reinstate us on the rock of fate;" and 
 he tried to prevent it, " like its elder sisters, 
 dying a fool." With all this, he was 
 gentle and tender as a woman, with a sweet, 
 low voice, with a tremulous vibration in it 
 like a musical instrument. Living in a kind 
 of dream-land of his own, he knew little of 
 the outside realistic world ; but he pos- 
 sessed an intense sympathy for sufiering and 
 
 sorrow when it came to his knowledge, and a 
 VOL L P
 
 66 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 chivaby of the old days that, gentle and 
 sweet-tempered as he was, would have roused 
 him to any deed of daring if a woman 
 suffered wrong. He had the truest, warmest 
 love for his pale, sad sister, and loved to have 
 her in his study beside him ; though, perhaps, 
 they would scarcely exchange two words — - 
 he buried in his books, she quietly at work. 
 The poor around, and their own servants, all 
 loved Mr. Walter — he was "such a nice free 
 gentleman ; " but when Everard spoke to 
 them or smiled at them, it was chronicled as 
 an event in the family history ; and children, 
 with faces flushed with joy, hastened home to 
 tell mother Mr. Everard had put his hand on 
 their heads and said, " good Httle man " or 
 "little maid," as the case might be, and would 
 often quarrel as to which of the children the 
 smile had been meant for. Old men and 
 women passed Mr. AValter with a merry, 
 hearty greeting; but the men bared their
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 67 
 
 heads to Everard, and the women reverently 
 curtseyed, as though they met some superior 
 being. 
 
 From his gentle, studious, reserved habits 
 he acquired the name from his brothei,' of "Poor 
 old Everard;" for, to him, a fellow who neithei* 
 .smoked, nor danced, nor played at billiards, 
 nor croquet, nor cricket, was a subject for 
 intense commiseration — what was life worth 
 without its amusement ? It was but a slow 
 thing at best ; but, as it had to be gone through, 
 let it be as jolly as it could. Troubles and 
 worries would come — it was the fate of man, 
 but a man who was half a fellow would look 
 his troubles full in the face, see which way 
 it was best to bear them, and, tliat little matter 
 arranged, a cigar in his mouth, and a piano 
 to set his thoughts to music with, Walter was 
 himself again. 
 
 Dinner over — which would have been a 
 
 grave and solemn affair but for Ruperts 
 
 f2
 
 68 A MINGLED YARK 
 
 merry chatter, and even he at times relapsed 
 into silence and seemed buried in thought — 
 the two friends strolled out into the grounds, 
 and Grace v/ent into the drawing-room with 
 Everard, who liked her to play to him for an 
 hour. They then had coffee ; and he went 
 away to his room, appearing no more unless 
 there was company to entertain. 
 
 " What time is your train, Eupe ? " said 
 Walter ; "I must tell Walcott about the 
 do o'- cart." 
 
 '' Do you know, after all. Pop, I'm not sure 
 1 shall go," said Rupert ; " and if I did, I 
 should walk. I prefer it. And send the 
 porter down for the valise ; why, it's no 
 distance." 
 
 " Don't go — be quite sure you won't ; now 
 you're a much more respectable fellow — go 
 up with me on Monday." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps I will ; it's no end of jolly 
 here, and we haven't had half a talk. I half
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 69 
 
 thought of running down to Major Carring- 
 ton's for two or three days ; but I don't 
 think I shaU." 
 
 " When does your leave expire ? " 
 " Oh ! not for another fortnight." 
 " All right ; I shall be delighted to have 
 you, and you may chance to get another 
 peep at your divinities." 
 
 " Yes," answered Eupert, in a voice that 
 shewed his thoughts were not altogether with 
 his words. They had sat themselves on a 
 seat outside the drawing-room window, and 
 Walter began whistling the air Grace w.'is 
 playing. 
 
 " What a lovely thing that is, and how 
 charmingly your sister plays — better than 
 ever, I think." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know ; it's not much. 
 You should hear Lady Lilian Murray play ; 
 that is something, I can tell you. Why ou 
 earth didn't she shew, I wonder, to-day '{ "
 
 70' A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Is she like the others ? " asked Eupert. 
 
 " Well, she is like Edith and Gertrude, 
 but on a much smaller scale ; for that reason 
 she is to me the best looking. I hate your 
 fine women. If she's in good proportion, 
 Avith undeniable feet and hands, a woman 
 
 can't be too small. 
 
 J? 
 
 " You prefer a Venus to a Juno. Can't 
 say I do ; you lose so much grace. I'm of 
 Byron's opinion — I hate a clumpy woman- 
 I think your sister is now the 'juste 
 miliexL " 
 
 '' I don't agree with you there. A girl 
 should be tall or short ; I don't like your 
 half-and-halfs." 
 
 Kupert laughed. 
 
 '* How fortunate it is our tastes are so- 
 different. It would be most unlucky if w(^ 
 were perfectly agreed on that subject ; we 
 might fall in love with the same girl — what 
 a bore that would be ? "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 71 
 
 " Eather ! Ill tell you what, Eupe ; we'll 
 go and see little Kathleen 'Brian after 
 church to-morrow." 
 
 '' No, we won't." 
 
 ''Why not?" 
 
 *' Because, my dear fellow," said Eupert, 
 with mock gravity, " I will not encourage 
 you in wrong courses." 
 
 " Wrong fiddlesticks ! — It's a lovely walk, 
 and a lovely girl at the end of it, and some 
 first-rate bitter to refresh with." 
 
 " It's through that cursed village." 
 
 " Don't anathematise our parish in that 
 manner, sir. — And it is not through the 
 village — at least, the nearest way is through 
 our own wood here at the end, and over 
 some meadows, wherein is a trout stream that 
 makes your mouth water as you look at it, 
 imagining the 'lusty trout' that are therein." 
 
 " Oh ! very well ; I don't mind. I may 
 as well get it over, for you'U bore my Hfe
 
 72t A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 out till I Ve seen this wonderful piece of 
 perfection. Let's go in and hear your sister 
 play, and you give us a song." 
 
 " I can't siug a scrap, Rupe. I never do, 
 and IVe got a cold." 
 
 " Yes ; swell tenors always have. Come 
 along ! " and he dragged Walter into the 
 drawing-room through the French windows, 
 and begged Grace to make her brother sing. 
 
 " Yes ; sing, Walter," said Everard, " if 
 Carrington wishes you. I like to hear 
 you, too." 
 
 " Do you, old man ? Well — come — ^that 
 is such a compliment that I will reward you 
 in the most ungrateful manner by doing it. 
 And you will find how true it is, that were 
 our wishes always granted, we should some- 
 times perish at our own request. Did you 
 ever hear a crow with the croup ? " he said, 
 placing a song on the piano for his sister to 
 accompany.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 73 
 
 " Don t be silly, Pop — go on." 
 
 " Well, Grace, let us go in for this, then ; " 
 and, in a bright, manly voice, he sang the 
 first verse of a ballad — and then suddenly 
 stopped, and declared it was impossible to do 
 any more ; it was something too horrid. 
 
 Eupert, who had been standing looking 
 over him, took up the song ; and, without 
 accompaniment, sang the second verse. 
 
 To describe the effect on his audience is 
 impossible. The perfection of the voice — 
 the intense tenderness of expression- — was 
 something they had seldom, if ever, heard 
 ■equalled. 
 
 When he threw the song down, and laugh- 
 ing, said, " That's like my impudence, isn t 
 it ?" Walter was the first to find tongue to say : 
 
 " You incorrigible humbug ! To think 1 
 have known you since we were boys to- 
 gether, and never knew you could sing. 
 Give an account of yourself, sir," he said,
 
 74 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 seizing him by the lapels of his coat, and 
 shaking him. 
 
 " Well, I did not know I could myseK,. 
 Pop; and I do not know it now. I never 
 was taught ; but I am awfully fond of that 
 song, and IVe been everlastingly singing it 
 lately." 
 
 "And yet, Eupe, it cannot contain your 
 sentiments — 'What we have loved we love 
 for ever — by the specimen you have given me 
 to-day of your changeableness." 
 
 " Oh ! I never said I was chane^eable in 
 love, Pop ; that must remain to be proved." 
 
 A loud ring at the gate bell interrupted, 
 the conversation. 
 
 " There is the Bashaw," said Walter, and 
 Grace's pale face flushed as she moved from 
 the piano, and Everard rose and said, "Good 
 night," and went quickly out of one door, as 
 his father entered at the other. 
 
 " What the devil did Walcott bring out
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 75 
 
 the grey mare to night for, Walter ? " was 
 his first speech on entering the room. 
 
 " I haven't the least idea, sir ; I'm not in 
 Walcott's confidence." 
 
 " Then you ought to have an idea ; when 
 I am out you ought to see something decent is 
 sent for me to come home with. I wonder I 
 wasn't smashed ; sticking her in the broug- 
 ham, to come that little distance and wait — 
 of course, imagining I'd a coachman with a 
 grain of sense, and a son who would take 
 some interest in my afiairs, I thought the 
 old roan was in the brougham, who would 
 stand for a week, so I finished my hand of 
 whist ; and a nice drive home I've had with 
 that beauty. I shall get rid of her to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Better get rid of the coachman who 
 made the mistake, sir, I think ; she's a 
 splendid animal ; only wants proper work, 
 and more of it."
 
 76 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "Perhaps you'd like to drive her for an 
 hour or two every day. She's pulled my arm 
 nearly out of the socket." 
 
 " Will you let me see her, sir," said 
 Carrington, "in the morning? we might 
 have a deal." 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, Captain, I 
 thought you were Everard ; you said you 
 were not going to stay." 
 
 " Nor was I, sir, but — " 
 
 " But, somehow," said Mr. Ashleigh, with 
 the customary strange smile, "our fasci- 
 nations have been too much for you. Well, 
 I can only say you have a hearty wel- 
 come. Where's Everard ? " 
 
 " Gone to his room, father," said Grace, 
 whom he more particularly addressad. 
 
 " Tell him to come down again, then ; is 
 that the way he entertains his father's 
 guests ? " 
 
 "Everard considers Carrington is my
 
 A MINGLED YARN. ^J'l 
 
 guest, sir. I don't think you need 
 disturb him, Grace," said Walter, as she 
 was preparing to obey her father's 
 order. 
 
 " Walter, obhge me by remembering this 
 is at present my house ; and, therefore, the 
 persons who visit here are my guests. 
 Grace, do as I tell you." 
 
 Without a word, she left the room as 
 Rupert said : 
 
 " Mr. Ashleigh, it grows late ; it is 
 scarcely worth while to disturb Everard; 
 he is far better employed than talking to 
 me." 
 
 " My children shall do as I tell them, sii*, 
 or they shall not remain under my roof. 
 You, as a soldier. Captain, must surely 
 approve of discipline. Well, where is your 
 brother?" he said, as Grace re-entered. 
 
 " He says he hopes you will excuse him ; 
 lie is deep in some interesting discovery with
 
 78 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 his telescope, and lie would rather not leave 
 it ; it is sucli a good night for observation." • 
 
 "I'll smash his telescope, and him too, it' 
 he does not do what I tell him," he said, 
 through his clenched teeth, his face growing- 
 white with concentrated passion ; "he shall 
 come down." 
 
 " Oh ! father," began poor Grace, lifting 
 her hands imploringly, as he tried to pass 
 her ; but he pushed her roughly away, and 
 strided from the room. Grace fell back into 
 one of the ottomans, and, covering her face 
 with her hands, she burst into passionate 
 tears. 
 
 Walter went up to her, and, leaning kindly 
 over her, said, gently: 
 
 " Don't mind, Grace ; Everard will 
 manage." 
 
 " But it makes Everard so ill afterwards," 
 she said, through her sobs. "Hark! oh, 
 hark! what is it?" she exclaimed, starting up,
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 79 
 
 tis a loud crashing noise was heard overhead, 
 ^nd a sound as of some heavy body falling. 
 
 "Take care of her, Eupert, 111 go," said 
 Walter, with perfect composure of voice and 
 manner, though with a face of deadly pallor ; 
 and, as he left the room, Eupert caught in 
 his arms the fainting form of poor Grace.
 
 80 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Walter walked quietly and firmly up the 
 wide staircase, and as lie reached the door of 
 Everard's room, his father came out, and 
 saying, " Go and see to your brother — he was 
 a fool to provoke me," went past him to his 
 own room, and, slamming the door, locked it 
 after him. 
 
 Lying back in an arm chair, holding his 
 hand to his head, sat Everard ; when his 
 brother entered, the room was in frightful 
 confusion, and the window, before which 
 on a table stood the telescope, was smashed, 
 as though the instrument had been pushed 
 through it. 
 
 " Dear old man, what is this ? " said
 
 A MINGLED YAEN. 81 
 
 Walter, going up to Everard, and taking the 
 hand lying listlessly on his knee. 
 
 " Oh ! my father wanted to try a little 
 amusement I objected to ; that's all, Walter; he 
 fancied he should like to smash my telescope, 
 and me, I think, after it. The telescope was 
 too many for him — the window suffered, and 
 I fell an easier prey. I don't think my head 
 is cut — it's hard," he said, smiling quietly ; 
 '* but the contact with the fender was unplea- 
 sant, audit aches." He moved his hand as 
 he spoke, and Walter, stooping down to look 
 at his head, exclaimed : 
 
 " I should think it does ache ; why, youVe 
 a bump as big as a cricket ball ! Let us ring 
 for dear little Dolly — she'll doctor it." 
 
 " Oh, no ! better not make a fuss." 
 
 "Yes, yes, it must be seen too, old fellow; 
 
 I wish it had been my head," he said, in a 
 
 low tone, as with a woman's tenderness he 
 
 laid his cold hand on the large swelling, 
 VOL. I. G
 
 8^ A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 which seemed momentarily increasing. " It 
 might have killed you — it's deucedly near the 
 temple." 
 
 " Perhaps it would have been as well, 
 Walter, if it had." 
 
 • '* Hush ! hush ! old man ; " and the rare 
 tears sprang to Walter s eyes, and he turned 
 away and readjusted some of the things in 
 the room. 
 
 If there was one being on earth dear to 
 Walter, it was his brother ; one person whom 
 he thought superior to any other, who was to 
 be more considered — more humoured — whom 
 it was a personal affront to hurt and annoy — 
 i]b was this dearly-loved brother ; but it was 
 only at such moments as this that it showed 
 itself strongly. It was not Walter's way to 
 make a demonstration of his feelings ; and, 
 with a light cheerful air, he turned round as 
 the door opened, and said to the servant : 
 
 "Will you send Dolly here, the great
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 83; 
 
 medicine woman ? Mr. Everard has hurt 
 himself." 
 
 • "Mrs. Masham's along with Miss Grace, sir," 
 t^aid the girl ; " she's been and fainted away." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! how very inconvenient of her 
 just now, poor little Grace ! Well, please tell 
 Dolly I want her as soon as possible." 
 
 " Poor Grace ! — did the noise frighten 
 her ? " asked Everard. 
 
 "I suppose so, and she must have scared 
 poor Rupert ; but look here, old fellow, don't 
 you go and follow her example — have you 
 some brandy here ? " 
 
 "Yes, in my flask," gasped Everard. 
 
 Without another word, Walter lifted his 
 
 brother from the chair, laid him on the bed, 
 
 and, gently raising his head, poured a few 
 
 drops of the spirit into his mouth, and was 
 
 chafing his hands, and praying for the 
 
 .speedy arrival of Dolly, when the door 
 
 opened, and she hurried in. 
 
 g2
 
 84 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 Somewhat pale was the usually rosy, 
 happy face of Dolly Masham — called Mrs. 
 Masham by the household, and Dolly by the 
 children, whom she had amused and played 
 with when not many years older herself than 
 they were. She had lived in the family 
 e.ver since, and was now housekeeper and 
 general factotum ; called to officiate on every 
 occasion — to share in the joys and sorrows 
 of the children she loved so dearly, and who 
 all declared that it would be impossible to 
 exist without Dolly. 
 
 '•' Now, what is to done here ? why, bless my 
 heart!" said the little woman, bustling up 
 beside the bed, "what's the whole family 
 taken to fainting away for ? " 
 
 "Oh! the old story, Dolly." 
 
 " What ! that fine temper broke down 
 again ? — dear, dear, dear ! I'd rather call her- 
 rings without my shoes, than have his money, 
 if T was bound to take his temper with it.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 85 
 
 Numph! Well, never mind, Master Everard, 
 that will soon be all right. Now you'd have 
 been as proud as a carrot half-scraped of this 
 great bump, if you'd got it at school. Why, 
 you used to show me all your bumps, and 
 thumps, and cuts, when you came home for 
 the holidays — as proud of them as a soldier 
 of his wounds." And as she chattered on, she 
 tenderly bathed the head with cold water ; 
 and then, soaking a handkerchief, wrapped it 
 round, and bid him sit still while she fetched 
 some wonderful stuff that she knew would 
 take down the swelling in no time. 
 
 On her return, Walter asked her about 
 Grace. 
 
 " She is all right now. I've packed her 
 off to bed. I told her she only wanted to 
 faint in that handsome young man's arms. 
 Why, bless you ! I'd a good mind to be 
 taken bad myself. There, now, Mr. Everaid, 
 r should advise you to go to bed too. We
 
 86 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 must shut the shutters, Master Walter, over 
 this broken pane. How do you feel now ? " she 
 said to Eupert, after assisting Walter to move 
 the precious telescope and shut the shutter. 
 
 " Much better — all right — I shall get up 
 and go to work again, Dolly." 
 
 "No such a thing; you have had just 
 as much excitement to-night as you can 
 manage ; so don't you let him now, Master 
 Walter." 
 
 "Why, according to your own account, 
 Dolly," said Everard, " I have had many 
 such bumps before, and I ought to be used 
 to it." 
 
 " Yes, I should think you have had a little 
 half hundred ; but they weren't got quite in 
 the same way, you see. Now, you go to bed 
 like a good boy, and I'll shew you a half- 
 penny, as I used to tell you when you was a 
 little child. I'm going to see after Miss Grace 
 now."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. :87 
 
 *' What a good little soul you are, Dolly/' 
 said Walter. 
 
 " Aren't I ? My goodness comes so slow, 
 there's no end to it. I shall look in again 
 the last thing." And away she went, to sit 
 up the whole night in Grace's room, as she 
 invariably did when any of these sad scenes 
 had terrified the poor girl, and left her, in 
 consequence, in a state of nervous excite- 
 ment that prevented sleep. 
 
 Walter went down to Eupert to bid him 
 good night, and apologise for the untoward 
 event. 
 
 " I wish sincerely 1 had not pressed you to 
 stay, Rupe," he said. ; 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense ; it was fortunate you did, 
 as I was of some little use to poor Mi^s 
 Ashleigh. Will that irritable party recover 
 himself by the morning ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear ! yes ; he will come down as 
 cheerful and pleasant as though nothing liacj
 
 88 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 happened, and speak of the occurrence as 
 though it was a pleasant little joke. Oh, 
 Rupert! that man.'' 
 
 " Hush ! " said Rupert, suddenly and 
 earnestly ; "he is your father, let him be 
 what he will." 
 
 *' Yes, Rupert, to my bitter sorrow. Well, 
 good night ; we will try and be all better 
 behaved to-morrow." 
 
 The sad scene enacted at the Priory con- 
 trasted in a strange manner with the peace 
 and brightness at the old Manor House. 
 
 The drawing-room was lighted brilliantly 
 with the soft clear light of many wax candles ; 
 the moon shining into the conservatory, 
 bathing in its silver light the gorgeous 
 blossoms of the plants which filled it ; the 
 exquisite and varied scents coming into the 
 room from the open doors, near which, on a 
 low stool, sat Gertrude, her hands clasped 
 round her knees, listening to Lilian, who.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 89 
 
 lying back in a luxurious velvet chair, was 
 reading aloud. In her own especial place, 
 with her work-table and lamp beside her, 
 Mistress MedHcott sat knitting. Edith and 
 May were busy cutting out pictures for a 
 screen they were making ; occasionally rest- 
 ing in their work, when some passage of 
 especial interest in the tale made them feel 
 they must give it all their attention. 
 
 "Oh, Lilian!" exclaimed Gertrude, at the 
 close of one chapter ; "if Amyott dies, it 
 will be disgusting — hateful ; I shall want to 
 burn the book." 
 
 " My child, my child, not so vehement ! " 
 said Auntie ; "we do not want such large 
 adjectives about such small things." 
 
 " Small things, Auntie ; do you call the 
 death of sucli a hero a small thing ? " 
 
 " An imaginary hero, certainly, Gertrude, 
 I do." 
 
 " But, Auntie, I do not think the heroes
 
 90 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 are imaginary," said May ; "I believe — and 
 so, I suppose, Gerty does — that heroes are all 
 at least founded on facts ; the writers have 
 known and loved such, and so I, too, feel a 
 sort of sense of their real existence, and a 
 sorrow if their fate is a sad one, as Gertrude 
 does." 
 
 "Oh, dear! I dont," said Edith; "the 
 heroes seem to me all the most impossible 
 creatures on earth. I'm sure I've never seen 
 such wonderful beings." 
 
 "Oh, Edith!" said May and Gertrude in 
 a breath, " how dare you say so ? Wiiy, who- 
 is Amyott himself exactly like ? Lily says 
 so too.'' : 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure." 
 
 " Why, Everard Ashleigh," said Gertrude ; 
 " he's exactly like him — just the same sweet, 
 gentle, angel sort of fellow." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure, Gertrude," said Auntie, 
 as her sisters all burst into a merry laugh.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 91 
 
 '' that's a very warm way for a young lady 
 to speak of a young gentleman." 
 
 " Well, Auntie, clear," said Gertrude, blush- 
 ing and laughing too, " I shall not say it 
 before anyone, but I do think Everard is 
 charming. My idea of perfection is gentle- 
 ness — nothing wrong or wicked can be 
 associated with gentleness." 
 
 " Well — am I to go on reading, or not ? " 
 asked Lilian. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and without wasting more 
 time. You see our hour is nearly over, and 
 Auntie will want her music," said May, 
 pointing to the dial on the mantel-piece. 
 And so Lilian took up the book again and 
 read on until the ruthless author had killed 
 the gentle hero, and poor Gertrude's eyes were 
 filled with tears — tears she was ashamed to 
 show ; and, springing from her seat, she flew 
 to the piano, and throwing it open, played a
 
 92 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 galop of Schuloff's with more than due at- 
 tention to the allegros and cresceyidos. 
 
 " If that is a funeral dirge for your poor 
 hero, Gertrude," said Auntie, when she 
 finished, "it is a very great contrast to 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, Auntie, dear ; that music is not in 
 your style, is it ? " said Gertrude, rising and 
 throwing herself on the ground beside her 
 Aunt. " It was not a dirge, dear; it was my 
 mode of giving vent to my feelings ; every 
 hard note I struck, I wished it was on the 
 head of the horrid author, who had the heart, 
 to kill my beautiful Amyott. Poor Alice! 
 she will never love again — she could never 
 find another like Amyott." 
 
 " She will marry Ernest in the end — :you 
 see now," said May." 
 
 " Oh ! that rattling, empty-headed fellow ! 
 impossible, May ! "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 93 
 
 " He's not empty-lieaded, Gertrude ; and 
 he's so fond of her." 
 
 " Well, I would not guess the end ; go 
 and play to me, Lilian, love," said Auntie ; 
 and, putting down her knitting, she folded 
 her hands together, and, laying back in 
 her chair, prepared herself to Hsten to her 
 niece's exquisite playing — it was an enjoy- 
 ment she never liked to miss, and which 
 Lihan never permitted her to do if she could 
 avoid it. 
 
 " Look here I what I've been doing, while 
 you have been playing," said May, as Lilian 
 rose from the instrument. " I have written 
 a description of my ideas of perfection — my 
 notion of a hero. Let us each write one. 
 Now, Lily, you go on ; here's paper and pens 
 for you all." 
 
 "I am saved the trouble ; Amyott is 
 mine," said Gertrude. 
 
 "But write it down, do, Gerty, and
 
 94 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Auntie shall see, when we are married, who 
 has got her hero ; go on, Lily." 
 
 '^ Oh ! I can't, May. We all like the 
 same thing — someone very good and very 
 agreeable.'* 
 
 " No, no ; but you must particularise 
 iiomplexion, height, temper, talent, manners 
 ■ — ever3rthing." 
 
 "May is trying to find out secrets, 
 Lilian, I think," said Auntie, smiling ; "but 
 I cannot give up the music just yet." 
 
 "No, Auntie; I will sing whilst Lily 
 writes," and May went to the piano and sang 
 one or two of the Irish melodies her aunt 
 loved, in her rich, contralto voice, which 
 seemed, somehow, in accordance with her 
 brown hair and earnest eyes ; and then she 
 and Edith sang a duet together — the latter 
 "possessing a bright soprano, sweet and tune- 
 ful, but with less power than May's voice. 
 Still, all this time, Lilian remained with her
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 95 
 
 pencil in her hand, writing nothing ; but 
 Edith and Gertrude had eagerly set to 
 work ; and they handed their papers to 
 May, requesting to look at hers in return. 
 " Edith, you are too ridiculous ; it will 
 serve you right if you have such a person. 
 Hark ! Auntie, what she has written : — 
 
 * His hat is brushed ; his hands, with wondrous pains. 
 Are cleansed from garden mould and inky stains ; 
 
 . His glossy shoes confess the lackey's care ; 
 And recent from the comb shines his sleek hair,' 
 
 — you are absurd, Edith. I wanted you to 
 write really what you think nice." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I'm sure a nice clean, 
 neat man is very nice." 
 
 " Well, take it then. Auntie, and let it 
 bear testimony against her." 
 
 " ril wager she'll marry a slattern," said 
 Auntie, smiling, as she folded the paper up 
 and placed it in her table drawer. " Now 
 for you. May."
 
 96 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "There it is, Auntie." 
 
 " Oh ! read — read it, May," cried all the 
 girls. 
 
 " Lily may read it ; she won't write, 
 naughty girl." 
 
 They took up the paper, and read : — " He 
 must be very tall, with dark, dark hair, and 
 large brown eyes — splendid teeth, and good 
 feet and hands. His temper warm, but 
 generous ; his intellect, average good (I hate 
 those awfully clever men) ; plenty to say for 
 himseK, very fond of society, and passion- 
 ately fond of his wife. If he has no pro- 
 fession, he must have a hobby^ — one of the 
 arts I should prefer, for I should not care for 
 him either to hunt, or shoot, or boat. I 
 should be in an agony when he was out that 
 he would be brought home on a shutter." 
 
 "It's better than Edith's, is it not, 
 Auntie ? " said May, as Lily handed up the 
 paper.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 97 
 
 " Oh ! I shall make no comparisons ; now 
 for you, Gertrude." 
 
 " Eead it, then, Lily. I shall go and hide 
 my face in your lap. Auntie : " — * Courageous 
 beyond all doubt, with the best of courage — 
 the courage to do right ; tender and gentle, 
 without the least effeminacy ; gentle — the 
 more because he knows his strength, and 
 fears to put it out ; clever, so that there is no 
 ordinary subject on which he could not 
 speak, but holding silence when not called 
 upon to speak ; for I would have him a better 
 Hstener than talker, and would rather that 
 he enjoyed good jests than that he should be 
 a good jester. I would have his face serene, 
 and his dark grey eyes shine with a pleasant 
 light always ; but his smiles must be rare and 
 beautiful, given chiefly to those he loves. 
 He must be an ardent admirer of music, even 
 if he is not himself a proficient ; hold all the 
 arts in highest estimation ; and, with a bound- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 > A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 less sympathy for all human nature, he must 
 weep with those who weep, rejoice with those 
 who rejoice, and have an infinite pity for 
 those who sin. I have but Uttle choice of 
 mere external appearance, but the hands 
 must be perfect." 
 
 '' Oh, Gertrude ! well you may hide your 
 face. Auntie, where is this admirable 
 Crichton to be found ? " 
 
 " An echo answers, ' Where ? ' I think," 
 said Auntie ; " but look up, Birdie. It is 
 quite well to seek for and win excellence — 
 it exalts our own nature, and we have 
 good Penn's advice — not only to see that 
 we love, but that we love only what is 
 lovely." 
 
 At this moment, a head peeped in at the 
 door ; and Ma'mselle's voice said : 
 
 " My Gertrude, the time is ver late for the 
 young eyes." 
 
 ." Yes, Ma mselle, Fm coming," said Ger-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 99 
 
 trude, jumping up and kissing her Aunt ; 
 and she ran away, glad to escaj)e. 
 
 An hour after — in the large room, looking 
 out at the glorious moon, which was 
 lighting the lawn like day — Lilian and Edith 
 stood, their arms about each other, Lilian's 
 head on Edith's shoulder — she was fully a. 
 head taller than her eldest sister — talking- 
 together, as they often did ; for they had 
 more in sympathy with one another than the 
 other two lip'hter-hearted eirls. And vc^t 
 they were a great contrast in all things. 
 Lilian was sensitive to a fault, full of gentle 
 sympathy for everyone, with a rigid sense of 
 duty, which made her the most docile aiid 
 obedient of pupils ; and yet, somehow, the 
 brighter nature of Gertrude made her, with 
 all her wilfulness, more a favourite with 
 both Ma'mselle and the tutor. Lilian was very 
 timid and shy, which was unfortunate in the 
 
 eldest of the family — so that often the stately, ' 
 
 h2
 
 100 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 dignified Editli, with her patrician, self- 
 contained manners, was taken for the older 
 sister. Calm, fearless, and altogether unex- 
 citable, Lilian seemed to lean on her as her 
 support, and admired her, and looked up to 
 her in a pretty, humble way, which was very 
 endearing. And many a time, as now^, when 
 her head, with its aureola of shining hair, 
 was resting against her sister's, and her violet 
 eyes gazing up into the calm statuesque face, 
 she looked a sweet touching picture, claiming 
 love and tenderness from all who saw her. 
 Edith was her confidante in all her troubles 
 and worries ; but there was one thing that she 
 could not elicit from her, and it was the 
 subject of their conversation now. 
 
 *' You acknowledge, Lily, that you had a 
 reason for not coming down, then, beside 
 letter- writing ? " 
 
 *' Yes — but, oh, Edith ! I cannot even tell 
 you ; it is so silly. Do not ask me."
 
 A MINGLED YARX. 101 
 
 " Tell me one thing. Had it anything to 
 <lo with Walter Ashleigh ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " said Lily, raising her 
 head from its resting-place, and smiling so 
 frankly in her sister's face as to convince her 
 of the truth of her words. 
 
 " And yon would really rather not tell 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes ; I would rather not, because it is 
 1S0 silly that I am ashamed almost to think 
 of it myself 
 
 " Well, then, so that it does not worry my 
 poor little sister, I do not mind. My only 
 curiosity to learn it, is to remove it if it 
 pains you." 
 
 '^ Oh, no ! it does not pain me now. 
 When it does, if it ever does, I will let you 
 know, Edith. I promise." 
 
 " Then, I will be content." 
 
 " I feel as thoue^h I could not draw mvsclf 
 ..away from that moon," said Lily ; '' its hi^ht
 
 102 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 seems to hold me in silver chains. Look at- 
 this lovely ray on my dress ! " 
 
 "I do not love the moon," said Edith ; 
 "its light is cold — like a person who is- 
 always smiling, and never seems to feel for 
 one. I never could go into fits about the 
 moon ; though, I suppose, it's the proper 
 thing to do." 
 
 "I do not know about proper ; but it fas- 
 cinates me, somehow." 
 
 " I like the sunshine better — it warms my 
 cold nature," said Edith, smiling ; " but we 
 must come to bed, Lil. Did Grace send for 
 the doves ? " she asked, as they walked, with 
 their arms about each other's necks, into- 
 their own room. 
 
 " Yes. Poor little thing ! I hope they wilJ 
 amuse her." 
 
 " Auntie is going to ask all the Priory 
 people to dine next week, Lily." 
 
 '^All?'* said Lily, with sudden emphasis.
 
 •A MINGLED YARN. 103 
 
 " Yes. I hope that handsome officer will 
 still be there ; though his hair is not sleek, 
 certainly." 
 
 " Yes — no. Quite the reverse, is it ? " 
 And then the conversation became 
 gradually more monosyllabic and less in- 
 teresting, and soon the pretty eyes were 
 veiled in slumber.
 
 104 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was a bright, hot morning, and the sun 
 was streaming into the hbrary at the Priory, 
 as Mr. Ashleigh entered — with a face as 
 sunny as the morning itself, and with no 
 trace of the past night's storm, as Walter 
 had predicted. 
 
 He walked to the window, and looked out 
 on the fair bright scene, whistling an opera 
 air ; and as the man entered, bringing in the 
 Tim, he said, in the most courteous of 
 tones : 
 
 " Stephens, is Miss Ashleigh down ? " 
 
 "No, sir. Mrs. Masham says Miss Ash- 
 leigh is not coming down this morning." 
 
 "Dear, dear! Not weU?"
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 105 
 
 "I believe not, sir. Mrs. Masham ha-s 
 taken Miss Ashleigh's breakfast up to her." 
 
 " And the gentlemen — are they down ? " 
 
 " In the grounds, sir, somewhere, I be- 
 lieve. Here is Mr. Walter and the Captain." 
 And as he spoke, Eupert and his friend 
 entered through the French window. 
 
 "Good morning, Carrington ; the weather 
 smiles on us, does it not ? " 
 
 " Good morning, my dear boy ; have you 
 «een your brother this morning ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Is he the worse for our little fracas? 
 Silly boy ! I believe he would die for that 
 absurd telescope. I suppose you heard the 
 row we made last night, Carrington ? I 
 pretended to put the absurd thing out 
 of window ; he wished to defend it, and 
 somehow fell with his head against tb(^ 
 fender." 
 
 Neither of the young men answered, but
 
 106 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 Ashleigli, nothing daunted, asked if Everard 
 intended to show, or was he ashamed of 
 his wound ? 
 
 "No, sir," answered Walter, coolly, "not 
 in the least ashamed — he sees no cause for 
 shame on his part. I believe he will be 
 down in a few moments. Here, Carrington,'^ 
 he said, turning, with a very different voice 
 and manner, to his friend, "sit here. 1 
 must be tea-maker; Grace is not down." 
 
 "The tea is made, sir," said Stephens, who 
 had just re-entered the room. 
 
 " Oh ! all right ; what have you there ? " 
 
 "Kidneys, sir, and mushrooms; cold veal 
 and ham, sir, on the sideboard." 
 
 " We shall get on, then, Stephens, I dare 
 say. Let me help you, Carrington." 
 
 " Thanks ; I don't do much in the break- 
 fast line." 
 
 " We're too early for you, I suj)pose ; you 
 haven't got up your appetite ? "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 107 
 
 " A good man always makes a good break- 
 fast, Carrington/' said Mr. Ashleigh, coming 
 back to the table with a plate of cold meat 
 he had helped himself to, " which accounts 
 for my excellent appetite," he continued,, 
 laughing. Carrington was saved the trouble 
 of a reply by the entrance of Everard. 
 
 The young men both rose with a sort of 
 feeling of reverential pity, and an instinctive 
 wish to show the greatest respect to one 
 whom they felt had been so unjustly used, 
 and Walter looked at Eupert as Everard, 
 with the utmost gentleness, wished his 
 father good morning. 
 
 " Good morning, my dear Everard; I trust 
 your head is not much the worse this morn- 
 ing for the unlucky rap of last night." 
 
 For an answer, Everard raised the thick 
 hair that fell over his forehead, and showed 
 the large, unsightly lump. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! you and I must not play so
 
 108 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 roughly. Give your brother something to 
 tempt his appetite, Walter ; be a little at- 
 tentive to him ; he is not so strong as you, 
 and a little matter upsets him ; so be so good 
 as to look after him before you attend to 
 yourseK" 
 
 Perhaps it was as well Mr. Ashleigh did 
 not see the look of withering contempt which 
 his son cast at him ; but Eupert did, and 
 noted also the change in his face when he 
 accosted his brother — the tenderness with 
 which he said the words, so simple and off- 
 hand in themselves. 
 
 " What shall I get for you, old fellow ? " 
 
 " Some toast and a cup of tea, Walter, 
 please." 
 
 " Not a shaving of ham ; not nothing 
 else?" he said, smiling, and laying his hand 
 on his brother's shoulder. 
 
 *' Not nothing else, as you grammatically 
 observe," answered Everard, laughing.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 109 
 
 " You should not ask people, Walter, when 
 they are delicate, what they will have," said 
 his father ; " give it them without asking. 
 You^re such a clumsy fellow ; so without 
 tact — so — so — " 
 
 " So good, and true, and kind," said 
 Everard, holding out his hand to Walter, 
 " that he causes those who know him to 
 have a better opinion of human nature, and 
 makes his brother proud to call himself so." 
 
 Walter turned to the sideboard, and 
 began busily carving the ham, and there 
 was silence for a moment ; and then Mr. 
 Ashleigh said : 
 
 " You will accompany us to our pretty 
 village church, Eupert, I hope. I am par- 
 ticular that we should all — my children, my 
 servants, and my guests — show due respect 
 for the institution of the Sabbath. I never 
 miss attendance at church." 
 
 Eupert looked up from his plate with so
 
 110 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 <3omical an expression on his face that Walter 
 was compelled to laugh. 
 
 " Have I said anything very witty or 
 clever, my dear boy?" asked his father. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! no, sir ; I was laughing at 
 my thoughts." 
 
 " Well, make haste and eat your break- 
 fast, to be early for service ; that will be 
 better than making yourself look silly by 
 laughing at nothing." 
 
 I am afraid Walter ate with rather more 
 deliberation after this injunction than before, 
 and smiled as^ain as Mr. Ashleigh returned 
 to the attack upon Rupert respecting church. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sii*! all right — I'll go, of course," 
 he said. "You, poor old man, with the 
 cracked skull — you can't go, can you ? " he 
 said to Everard. 
 
 " No ; I shall not venture this morning ; 1 
 shall stay at home and take care of Grace." 
 
 " A Samaritan duty fitted to the day," said
 
 A MINGLED YARN. Ill 
 
 Rupert. " What time is your service ? " 
 ; " Half-past ten," answered Walter, "so we 
 must cut this meal as short as possible ; " and 
 a slight kick under the table, following these 
 words, prevented Rupert from taking another 
 •slice of toast ; and the two friends soon rose 
 and left the room. 
 
 " I should have been unfit for church, or 
 anything good, Rupe, if I'd stayed in the room 
 with him three more moments," said Walter. 
 
 "It is trying, certainly, old fellow ; but 
 patience, and shufile the cards ; one glorious 
 thought is — it will end, like all things ; it 
 is only a matter of time." 
 
 " 'True, oh King' — and will you venture 
 into the unpleasant village to church ? " 
 
 " Yes — the lolly-pop shops will be shut, 
 and the children made clean for Sunday," 
 a,nswered Rupert, laughing lightly. " Will 
 the beauties be there ? " 
 
 "The Ladies Murray ? oh, yes ! without fail ;
 
 112 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 you never told me what you thought of my 
 little pattern of perfection — good Mistress 
 Medlicott." 
 
 " A charming little lady — but I am to see' 
 the little beauty to-day, am I not ? " 
 
 '' Yes, to be sure ; we will go down after 
 lunch." 
 
 " Will she not be in church ? " 
 
 " Not in the morning, I think — besides — " 
 
 " If she were, it is not a parade ground 
 for pretty girls, you would say, Walter ; 
 we will go in the afternoon. Is your sister ill 
 this morning ? " 
 
 " Knocked up with last night — these un- 
 pleasant scenes always make her ill." 
 
 "Poor girl! — but I forgot," said Kupert, 
 smiling, " I must not pity her, must I ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Ill tell you what I mean," answered 
 Walter, " before you go, perhaps ; but, if we're 
 going to church, we must start." 
 
 Whilst they were getting their gloves and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 113 
 
 books, Mr. Ashleigh called Walter sharply : 
 '■Thej should be late, and he hated that." 
 
 Walter only said, "All right, sir," and, 
 putting his arm through his friend's, walked 
 slowly after his father, who was going on 
 before them with rapid strides. 
 
 ** We are in excellent time, sir, I assure 
 you ; you need not heat yourself, this sultry 
 morning," he called to him. 
 
 " I would rather suffer any inconvenience 
 than be late, Walter," answered his father, 
 and strode on as before. 
 
 The sight of a stranger in the Priory pew 
 was, of course, a subject of great interest to the 
 congregation ; and he was the subject of conver- 
 sation to most of them as they walked home, 
 a»s the Priory people themselves had once been. 
 
 " That ere gentleman spoke to me, mother," 
 said one little boy, " yesterday, just as I was 
 u coming home across the meadow behind 
 the school ; he asked who old Master Poyntz 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 114 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 was, and what he was, and where he lived." 
 " Why, you was not along with Mister 
 Poyntz, was you ? " 
 
 " No ; he was on a good way ahead, and 
 he pointed him out, and said, says he, 
 * What's that old man's name, my lad?' and 
 so I told him ; and then he asked, ' Did he live 
 here, and what was he ? " and he seemed to 
 me as if he was scared-Hke at summat." 
 " Scared-like ? what do you mean ? " 
 "WeU, he was white in the face, and 
 fetched his breath short ; and then he asked, 
 ' Was he going right for the Priory ? ' 
 and I said, *Yes.' And I thought, if he 
 was one as was soon scared, he did not 
 ought to go to the Priory." 
 
 " He don't look like one as a little would 
 frighten, Johnny — fine, big, handsome feller 
 as ever I see." 
 
 " Lilian, he was at church," said Gertrude, 
 running into her sister's room immediately 
 on her return. " I wish you had not had a
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 115 
 
 headache — he's going to-morrow ; he told me 
 so, and now you won't see him, and he's as 
 handsome as an angel." 
 
 "We don't go to chm-ch, Birdie, to see 
 handsome men," answered Lilian, kissing the 
 bright up-turned face that was looking so 
 eagerly into hers. 
 
 "No, of course not. Everard was not 
 there, nor Grace ; they were not well, either 
 of them, Walter said. I am so sorry 
 Captain Carrington is going, because Auntie 
 has asked them to dine here on Thursday ; 
 and Walter won't be here either — only 
 Everard, Grace, and their father." 
 
 "You will be content, at least, Gertrude, 
 with your angel Everard." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I like him awfully ; he is so 
 
 quiet and gentle and clever ; but, then, if I 
 
 usurp him, what is to become of all of you ? " 
 
 said Gertrude laughing. 
 
 "Dr. Stillwell will do for me; and Auntie 
 
 I 2
 
 116 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 will, no doubt, find an agreeable ' diner 
 out' to take down Editli and May." 
 
 " I don't dine, you know," said Gertrude^ 
 keeping up the jest ; "so I will lend Everard 
 to one of them for dinner ; but I must have 
 him all the evening afterwards — that is, if 
 he likes, though. Oh, Lil!" she said, seating 
 herself on the ground — her favourite 
 resting-place — " I can't imagine anyone 
 liking — at least, loving — a person who does 
 not love them ; can you ? " 
 
 "I don't know;" and Lilian rose and' 
 fetched her bottle of eau de Cologne from 
 the dressing-table. 
 
 " Is your head worse ? Let me bathe it, 
 darling," said Gertrude, springing up. 
 
 " It aches a great deal ; but don't you 
 worry yourself. Hark ! there's the gong for 
 luncheon, too." 
 
 "Oh ! what a nuisance ! I wanted a nice talk 
 all to ourselves. Are you coming down?"
 
 A MINC4LED YARN. 117 
 
 *' Yes, dear ; perhaps luncheon may cure 
 my headache, and then I can go to the after- 
 noon service/' 
 
 " I will go with you ; but Rupert Car- 
 rington will not l^e there ; he told me so," 
 said Gertrude, as they walked downstairs. 
 
 " Oh ! how lovely the weather is ! " said 
 Lilian, looking out of the door that led 
 into the garden ; "I think it will do me 
 good to go out ; we will go to church, 
 Gerty." And so they did; and they heard, 
 iis they came back from Dr. Stillwell, that 
 old Master Poyntz, had Ijeen taken seriously 
 ill after morning service, and he was just 
 going to see him. 
 
 Walter and Rupert took their way, after 
 luncheon, as they agreed to do, to see thti 
 rustic beauty of Walter's admiration. 
 
 "How strange it is that Lilian will not 
 show," said Walter, as they walked along 
 over the meadows. " I made sure she would
 
 118 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 be at church ; however, youVe promised to 
 come again, and then you must see her. 
 They sent a note with Grace's doves last 
 night, asking us all to dine there on Thurs- 
 day. I'm awfully sorry I can't go ; they have 
 such nice sort of dinners — no nonsense and 
 ceremony. We wander about in those lovely 
 gardens, and in the conservatories ; and 
 music goes running on all the time ; and you 
 have not got to say ' Thank you ' after every- 
 thing ; it only seems keeping time with the 
 tinkling of the fountains — the cooing of the 
 doves. It's no end of pleasant ! " 
 
 " Dear me. Pop ! you're poetical," answered 
 Eupert, knocking off the head of a thistle, 
 with violence enough to make Walter say, 
 laughing : 
 
 " Who did that unfortunate thistle repre- 
 sent ? " 
 
 " I really don't know exactly ; but I wa.«t 
 thinking, I own — "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 119 
 
 " Thinking of some one you would like to 
 punish like that thistle ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; but is it not an anomaly to feel 
 that you should like to punish the best and 
 kindest friend you ever had in the world — 
 one who for years has had no thought but 
 for your happiness and advancement ? " 
 
 " Well, that is an odd state of mind to be 
 in. Is that your condition ? " 
 
 " Yes, Walter, this friend has made me a 
 kind of living lie ; and there are times when 
 I feel, almost, that I could kill him — or 
 myself." 
 
 " I say, Eupe, old man ! this won't do," 
 said Walter, kindly ; " I never heard you talk 
 so before." 
 
 " No, Walter ; it makes me worse, that my 
 tongue is tied ; that I cannot tell you — you, 
 my best friend — of the one care in a life that 
 seems so bright, rendering it a living tor- 
 ture, as well as a living lie." >
 
 120 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Try to forget it, man ! — now, at any 
 rate," said Walter, walking still with his arm 
 on his friend's shoulder. "If you cannot 
 help or alter it, it is wisest to forget it — at 
 least, to try. You know I have an awful 
 peacock on my wall — what man alive has 
 not ? Why, there are people who think 
 Walter Ashleigh is the most fortunate of 
 human beings, and yet he would change 
 places with that contented-looking party 
 there with the dahlia in his coat, who is 
 evidently going to meet his beloved, in the 
 happy conviction that he deserves the admir- 
 ation he is expecting to receive." 
 
 " Has he no peacock on his wall ? You 
 said all men had ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but some are less unpleasant than 
 others, and we are apt to think our own the 
 worst — for instance, you are an orphan, poor 
 boy ! I am not ; but my position makes me 
 envy yours."
 
 A MINGLED YARX. 121 
 
 Rupert made no answer, thougli he twice 
 essayed to speak, but seemed to put tlie 
 words back again ; and they spoke very 
 little until they came in sight of a large 
 homestead — a long, gable -ended house — 
 with ricks of corn and hay, in goodly rows ; 
 €0ws and pigs standing knee-deep in the 
 straw -yard ; and, on the gate which led to it, a 
 man was seated, smoking his pipe, and watch- 
 ing the animals with all that air of Sunday 
 rest and quiet enjoyment, which those who 
 work hard all the six days generally evince. 
 ' " Ah ! there's old O'Brian himself. Good 
 day, sir,'' said Walter, as they neared the 
 farmer's. 
 
 "Good arternoon, master. Noice and 
 foine, bean't it ? " 
 
 "Yes; splendid weather." And Walter 
 held his hand out to the man, who took it in 
 his hard, homy one, and shook it heartily. 
 
 " Is Miss Kathleen about ? "
 
 122 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; indoors, I think. Pray walk 
 in ; make yourselves at home — there's some 
 of the old tap there, sir," he called after them 
 as they went towards the house. 
 
 Walter nodded, and smiled in reply ; and, 
 putting his arm through Eupert's, he pushed 
 open the white gate, and then walked into 
 the little garden, with its trim, beautifully- 
 kept lawn — on which the croquet hoops 
 were standing — up the gravelled walk, on 
 either side of which grew luxuriant flower- 
 ing shrubs ; and, ere they could reach the 
 door, a figure stood under the porch, and a 
 bright ringing voice exclaimed : 
 
 "Is it yourself, Mr. Ashleigh ? Why^ 
 sure, we all thought you'd forgotten us." 
 
 " You could not suppose that was possible 
 now. Miss O'Brian. Has anyone ever for- 
 gotten you that ever saw you ? " 
 
 "Have done, Mr. Ashleigh, now," said 
 Kathleen, laughing ; and, turning graciously
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 12^ 
 
 to Kupert, she said, " Pray come in out of 
 this hot sun, sir, and don't be kept standing 
 there while Mr. Ashleigh makes pretty 
 speeches." 
 
 They followed her into the summer 
 parlour — so cool and pretty — looking out 
 into the orchard, with its rows of goodly 
 fruit trees. 
 
 Eupert and Walter flung themselves into 
 the tempting chairs by the open window, and 
 Kathleen stood leaning against it, refusing 
 the chair Walter ofiered her. 
 
 " I've been sitting all the morning. It's a 
 pleasure to stand ; and, may be, you know, 
 ril grow better." 
 
 Of course this elicited another compliment 
 from Walter, and the two went on laughing 
 and warring with words ; while Rupert sat 
 contemplating the face and form, which he 
 could not deny were beautiful exceedingly. 
 She was rather above than below the middle
 
 124 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 height ; a small, perfectly-shaped head, set 
 well on her shoulders, with rich sunny haii", 
 a shade between gold and light brown, 
 which was wavy by nature, not made to be 
 so by its owner ; eyes of the deepest, darkest 
 blue, shaded by large black lashes, which 
 lay on the cheeks that broke into dimples 
 each time she spoke ; and a moutli, which 
 all the beautiful descriptions that ever were' 
 written could not too much extol — so small 
 — so rosy — so perfect in its repose — so 
 brilliant when the ruddy lips parted in a 
 smile, shewing the white rows of ivory over 
 which they had been closed. She stood 
 here, as I have said, leaning against the 
 window ; her hands — brown from her rustic 
 employment, but beautifully shaped, and 
 clean enough even for Kupert's fastidious 
 taste — in her apron pockets: a little con- 
 ceited apology for an apron, made of white 
 muslin, trimmed with goffered lace ; her
 
 A MINGLED YAEK 125 
 
 di-ess — a pretty chintz pattern, the front short 
 enough to shew the neat little booted feet, 
 crossed one over the other ; and, resting on 
 her shining hair, the sauciest Httle cap, with 
 a spice of cherry ribband in it ; and, as he 
 looked at her, Eupert was forced to own 
 that Walter was right, and that such beauty 
 Avas not often seen. 
 
 "And now," she said, after some little 
 time, '' I suppose you'd like a draught of 
 beer, this hot day ? " 
 
 " Indeed, we should," said Walter ; " and 
 then, will you shew us over the farm ? " 
 
 " Sure, I will. We Ve a perfect picture of a 
 cow to show you — pure white — with a little 
 calf by her side, the very moral of her." 
 
 "White, too?" 
 
 " Yes ; white as the driven snow, the two 
 of them." 
 
 " Delightful ! My friend is an out-and- 
 out judge of cattle," said Walter, laughing.
 
 126 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "'Deed, then, he'll be satisfied," said 
 Kathleen ; and away she went for the beer. 
 
 " Well, Kupe, what do you say ? " asked 
 Walter. 
 
 " Say ! " said Rupert, stroking his mous- 
 tache, and speaking very deliberately ; 
 " that I could make as good a woman out of 
 a turnip any day." 
 
 "Brute!" said AValter, jumping up and 
 tapping him on the head with his cane. " I 
 should like to serve you as you did the 
 thistle." 
 
 " Don't get excited. Pop ; and, if you'll 
 promise to be calm, I don't mind telhng you 
 I think she's, without exception, the prettiest 
 thing I ever saw." 
 
 " Well done, you ! You shan't be 
 'thistled.' Hush ! here she comes." 
 
 Rupert sprang from his seat as she en- 
 tered, and took from her the tray she was 
 carrying.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 127 
 
 She acknowledged his courtesy with one 
 of her radiant smiles ; and, turning to 
 Walter, she said : 
 
 " My grandfather would like to come 
 round the farm with you. He would like 
 your friend's opinion of the cow." 
 
 " Oh ! Miss O'Brian, I beg you will not 
 believe Mr. Ashleigh. I am sorry to say I 
 am no farmer or grazier — the only animal I 
 have the least understanding of is a horse,'' 
 said Eupert. 
 
 " Ah ! then we can please you, sir, there ; 
 for our team is reckoned the finest in the 
 county. Will you come ? " 
 
 They followed her out into the garden, 
 where the old man stood awaiting them. He 
 delighted in Walter ; for he, to please the old 
 man, always expressed such a warm interest 
 in everything connected with the farm, re- 
 membering the names of the horses, to the 
 great delight, not only of the farmer himself.
 
 128 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 but the waggoner's mates, wlio received him 
 with broad grins of welcome. And so they 
 walked on together, and Eupert and Kath- 
 leen came on at a slower pace ; Rupert 
 bending down to look into the exquisite 
 face, and watch its expression — wishing 
 the horses at the bottom of the sea 
 when he was called from her side to 
 admire them. He, however, gave his 
 opinion on their merits with all the air of a 
 connoisseur ; and then, again returning to 
 the side of the little beauty, he asked what 
 her favourite amusements were, and how she 
 passed her time ? and she gave him sucli 
 ready answers, with her bright smile lighting 
 her eyes, that he knew not how the moments 
 passed, nor stopj)ed to wonder what had be- 
 come of Walter, though he had been long 
 out of sight. At length, his voice calling 
 him roused him, and he said : 
 
 "Ah! I must go, Miss O'Brian. That
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 129 
 
 provoking fellow is in an awful hurry. And 
 we cannot be hindering you on Sunday, can 
 we ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! not in the least — ^it's a 
 happy rest day.'' 
 
 " A very happy day — I shall never forget 
 it," said Eupert. 
 
 " Won't you, now ? " said Kathleen, laugh- 
 ing, and blushing too ; for the tones were 
 very earnest in which Rupert had spoken. 
 *' Oh ! I think there's no memory in the 
 world that's so short as a young man's." 
 
 '* Surely you do not speak from experi- 
 
 ence." 
 
 " Not exactly ; yet I've made it a rule to 
 have as little to do with them as possible." 
 
 " How cruel ; you must have made many 
 hearts very sad." 
 
 " Oh ! I hope not," she said, raising her 
 eyes to his face, but looking at him earnestly 
 and seriously, without a shade of the pretty 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 coquetry of her former manner ; "I was 
 early taught that playing with hearts was 
 very dangerous ; and I saw too much of its 
 misery to need more warning." 
 
 *' I beg your pardon, Miss O'Brian," said 
 Rupert; "I was jesting; I did not dream 
 I should awaken sad thoughts ; " for 
 in the sweet eyes he could see two tears 
 trembling. 
 
 " Ah ! no. How should you dream of 
 it ? Look ! Mr. Ashleigh is coming to see 
 for you." 
 
 "Rupert, I've been halloaing at you for 
 a week ; are you going to stay here for 
 
 "Alas! no," said Rupert; "I am ready 
 (I cannot say willing) to go, when you are." 
 
 " Come along, then ; the cow and calf are 
 perfect, Miss 'Brian. I suppose you will 
 name them." 
 
 "La bless you! yes, sir," said the farmer.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 131 
 
 laughing; "Katty gives the creatures a name 
 the moment she sets eyes on them — they're 
 •called a'ready, ' Snowdrop ' and ' Snowball.' " 
 
 *' I fancy the creatures like it," answered 
 Kathleen, laughing. ^^ It makes them feel at 
 home to be callecL by some name." 
 
 " Don't you think they would come to us 
 just as readily, and be quite as well pleased, 
 if we called them ' dog dog,' ' cat cat,' 
 and ' cow cow ? ' " said Eupert, with a 
 gravity which made his words seem more 
 ridiculous. 
 
 "No, I don't. They would doubtless ansAver 
 
 to your call from the sound of your voice ; 
 
 but it distinguishes them from one another, 
 
 which it is my fancy to believe they like, 
 
 and which, any way, endears them more to 
 
 me. I never name the animals that have to 
 
 be sacrificed — I should'nt mind saying a pig, 
 
 a lamb, or a calf is to l)e killed to-day ; but I 
 
 wouldn't like to say so of Sally, or Fanny, or 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Snowball; it would be like talking of the 
 murder of my friends." 
 
 "Noa, noa/' said the farmer, with a 
 little chuckling laugh; " Kattj never will 
 neame 'em till she's sure they're to be 
 brought up." 
 
 " This calf, then, is to be named Snow- 
 ball?" said Walter. 
 
 " Yes ; for she's so handsome and well 
 bred, I am a-going to bring her up," 
 answered the farmer. 
 
 " Poor things ! if they only knew how 
 much depended on their beauty," laughed 
 Walter. 
 
 They had stroUed on to the lawn, and 
 were standing by an arbour over which 
 a honeysuckle was climbing, laden with its 
 perfumed blossoms. 
 
 " How delicious ! " said Eupert ; *' I tliink 
 it is the sweetest scent of aU the flowers." 
 
 Kathleen pulled a piece growing near her,
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 133 
 
 and placed it in her dress ; and they all 
 walked on to the little white gate, Rupert 
 and Kathleen still together, and then, 
 thanking the farmer, and ]:)idding him and 
 his grandchild " Good bye," the young men 
 left the farm, and Avalked on across the field, 
 turning once to see the graceful figure of the 
 girl leaning against the white gate. They 
 lifted their hats and waved them to her, she 
 returning it with a gentle movement of her 
 beautiful head : and they went on some time 
 in silence, till Walter, turning suddenly to 
 look at his friend, said : 
 
 " You rascal ! did she give it you ? '' 
 " She did," said Rupert, quietly. 
 " Ha ! ha ! Rupe ; for pity's sake, do 
 not be led into an unequal marriage, among 
 the many evils and sorrows of this evil 
 world — one which has in it more of bitter- 
 ness than any other ill, &c. Do you reuK^ni- 
 ber that sermon, preached to one Walter
 
 134 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Ashleigii by his good friend, Eupeit Car- 
 rington ? " 
 
 "Don't prove Darwin's theory, and show 
 your apish descent. Pop," said Eupei-t, 
 laughing. " Because a pretty little girl gave 
 me a piece of honeysuckle, am I obliged to 
 marry her ? " 
 
 "By no means ; but I'm tickled by the 
 great j)hilosopher being caught in the toils. 
 I knew how it would be, and all I want you 
 to do is, to do me the justice of acknow- 
 ledging I was right, that's all. She is the 
 most extraordinary girl I ever saw — her 
 refinement, as well as her beauty, is so 
 extraordinary. Do you know she ^Tites 
 poetry ? and it is really very fair too ; 
 I should never have seen it, but the grand- 
 father and grandmother are so j^i'oud of 
 her — they showed it me." 
 
 " The grandmother did not appear," said 
 Eupert.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 135 
 
 " No, she was over in the village, with old 
 Poyntz, the schoolmaster — he's ill." 
 
 " 111, is he ? " said Eupert, with a slight 
 start ; " what's the matter with him ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know, I'm sure. I say, we 
 must step out ; it's getting late, and the 
 governor will be disturbed in his mind." 
 
 They hurried on, and spoke but little until 
 they reached the Priory; and then Eupert 
 said, as he entered the house : 
 
 "I shall have a better opinion of your 
 taste for the future. Pop."
 
 136 A MINGLED YAKN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In the little bed-room of the pretty school- 
 house — the windows round which the roses 
 clustered that the poor schoolmaster loved 
 to tend — the old man himself was seated in 
 an arm chair, propped up with pillows. 
 Beside him, holding his hand, sat Dr. 
 Stillwell. He had not left the old man from 
 the moment he had heard of his illness, and 
 now the daylight was fading, and yet he 
 would not go^ — he did not think his old 
 friend was well enough to leave him. 
 
 " Please, sir, go home now," urged Master 
 Poyntz ; "I am quite well again now. It 
 was only a dizziness. I am getting on in 
 years, and must expect to feel weaker and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 137 
 
 weaker. The school was full this morning, 
 and the fuss of getting the little ones under 
 weigh, in this hot weather, was too much 
 for me. Go home, dear sir, and get your 
 supper comfortable." 
 
 " No, no ; I am in no hurry for supper. 
 I should like to see you into bed first." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; true, I thank you ; " and then 
 the eyes had the strange look in them that 
 had made his kind friend anxious ; and he 
 whispered, pointing with liis trembling 
 finger to the sky, in which one bright star 
 was glitterino' : " She sees me, I believe — 
 always she sees me, and is sorry for me. 
 Don t you think she does, sir ? Is it wicked, 
 I wonder, to think so, sir ? — is it wicked ? " he 
 asked again eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " answered the Doctor, 
 gently ; " nothing is wicked that enables us 
 to bear the dispensations of God patiently 
 xmd bravely. The idea that those loved
 
 138 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 ones who have gone before are permitted to 
 watch over us on earth is a most comforting 
 belief, given in mercy, I believe, to such 
 Xiatures as would be scarcely able to bear 
 their bereavement without it." 
 
 " Yes. Thank you ; now 111 go to bed, 
 and you will not be uneasy about me. You 
 know, sir," he said, rising with some difficulty 
 from his chair, " I must give up my school ; 
 that's what I must do. I can't manage 
 them ; poor little chaps ! they're very good, 
 but the noise and the confusion is too much 
 for me. I must see the vicar to-morrow, and 
 tell him so." 
 
 " AVell, yes ; we Avill see in the morning. 
 Let me get you to bed now^" 
 
 He seemed to fall quickly asleep, once in 
 bed, and Dr. Stillwell crept away, requesting 
 the schoolmistress to attend to his bell 
 instantly, if it rang (for, by the kind thought- 
 fulness of the vicar, a bell of communication
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 139 
 
 was placed behind the two schoolhouses in 
 case of any night alarm). But the Doctor 
 made up his mind to induce his old friend to 
 have one of the elder schoolboys to sleep with 
 him the next night, if he were no better. 
 
 Early the next morning, after a very 
 hurried breakfast, Walter and Eupert started 
 for the train. 
 
 " You must remember me kindly to your 
 sister, and wish her good-bye for me," said 
 Eupert, as he jumped into the dog-cart, to 
 Everard, who was standing on the steps, 
 watching them away. 
 
 '^ I will — stay ; she is here," he said ; 
 " come to say good-bye herself. Why, 
 Grace," he continued, as she appeared at 
 the door, " we did not think to see you so 
 early." 
 
 She muttered some reply, and held out 
 her hand to Eupert, who had descended 
 again from the cart to speak to her.
 
 140 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 " What did you want to fuss yourself into 
 getting up for, Grace ? " said Walter, with 
 some annoyance in his voice. "I came to 
 your room because I thought you would not 
 come down." 
 
 Again she murmured some reply, in which 
 " my father " was all that was audible. She 
 was very pale, and her eyes were red, as 
 though she had been crying. 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Ashleigh," said Eupert, 
 with a tenderness in his voice and manner, 
 born of pity for one who, though so young, 
 seemed always so joyless. " I shall see 
 you soon again. Walter says I'm to come 
 again, often ; and there really is so much 
 attraction here that I don't want much 
 pressing." 
 
 "Come along, Eupe — we shall be late," 
 said Walter, impatiently. 
 
 Shaking her hand again, Eupert sprang 
 back into his place beside Walter, and they
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 141 
 
 drove awaj, Kupert looking back as they 
 passed tkrougli the gate ; but Grace had gone 
 in and closed the door. 
 
 They then drove on a little while in silence, 
 and then Walter said : 
 
 ''Eu]3ert, I've something awfully dis- 
 agreeable to say to you. I've been trying to 
 do it ever since you have been with us, and 
 I've never been able to get it out. You know 
 a fellow can't help having a 'cad' for a 
 father." 
 
 " What ! " said Kupert, turning fiercely 
 round, and looking searchingiy in his friend's 
 face. 
 
 " Well, I know it's wrong to call one's 
 father names ; but, 'pon my word, mine tries 
 me more than I can say." 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! yes, poor fellow I — go on," 
 said Rupert ; " what is it now ? " 
 
 " Well, of course, it's a horrid bore to me 
 liaving to speak to you on such a subject ;
 
 142 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 but we're old enough friends to excuse any- 
 thing, aren't we, Rupe ? " 
 
 " Oh ! cut that — and go on," said Rupert, 
 laughing. 
 
 " The fact is, my father, Rupe, has taken a 
 fancy that you will make an excellent husband 
 for poor little Grace ; and, in the coarsest 
 way, throws her at your head, as it were ; 
 she sees it herself, and her delicate, sensitive 
 nature shrinks from it painfully. She has 
 no love in her heart but for one ; her whole 
 thoughts and affections are engrossed by one 
 object, and she will never marry. It is only 
 fair to tell you this — more for her sake than 
 yours, for I suppose you can have no feeling 
 for a poor, miserable, plain little thing like 
 her ; but pity is akin to love, and sometimes 
 leads to it." 
 
 " My dear fellow, Fm glad you've eased 
 your mind by speaking to me," said Rupert. 
 " I can tell you, in answer, that, though the
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 143 
 
 annatural sadness of your poor sister has ex- 
 cited my compassion, I have really not 
 thought of her in any way which can affect 
 my peace, and I have not noticed what you 
 ■complain of." 
 
 " I am glad of that ; I was afraid you had. 
 Why, this morning, my father made her come 
 down to wish you good bye. I heard him 
 ordering her to dress — poor girl ! such things 
 are so painful to her." 
 
 "I had better not come down again, 
 then," said Eupert. 
 
 "Oh, yes! if you are warned — that was all 
 I wanted. I did not wish her, poor thing! 
 to lose your respect ; and if you are heart- 
 whole, all is well." 
 
 " Then you don't want me for a brother, 
 even if I desired it ? " said Eupert, smiling. 
 
 "My dear fellow, you know better than 
 that; but, as I have said, Grace is engrossed 
 by one love ; she will have no other."
 
 144 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Kupert, of course, asked no questions as 
 to who or what this love was. He felt that 
 he had no right to tempt Walter to betray his 
 sister's confidence ; but his curiosity was 
 somewhat aroused — he could but imagine 
 some hopeless ajffection was the cause of the 
 sadness he had so pitied. 
 
 '' I hope she'll be all right and jolly 
 some day/' he contented himself by saying. 
 "And now, I have something to say to you : 
 Don't let that poor old schoolmaster want 
 for an3rthing, now he's ill. I was up awfully 
 early this morning, and strolled down to ask 
 after him. They say he's very bad ; and I 
 should think the poor old fellow's over- 
 worked himself ; so he must have wine and 
 good things. Spend this for him, will you?" 
 and he pushed a note into Walter's hands. 
 
 " But, my dear boy, I shan't be down 
 again until Saturday," said Walter. 
 
 " No, I know you won't ; but you can
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 145 
 
 drop a line to your sister, and ask her to 
 see him, will you? — only, I don't want my 
 name mentioned ; do it yourself, you 
 know. That's why I spoke to you." 
 
 " What a queer chap you are, Eupert ; 
 but Grace will wonder why I'm so suddenly 
 interested in old Poyntz." 
 
 " Oh ! tell her that you have fallen on a 
 friend of his, who's much interested in him, 
 but does not wish his name known ; or I can 
 send it him direct, anonymously, if you 
 think that better. I should have done so, 
 but they told me the poor old fellow's head 
 was queer, and I feared he would be none 
 the better for the money, when he was not 
 able to spend it for himself So I thought 
 you would manage it." 
 
 " Kupe, I believe you are one of those 
 
 who ' do good by stealth, and blush to find it 
 
 fame.' How kind of you to think about a 
 
 poor old fellow like that. There is some- 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 thing interesting about him, I think, my- 
 self. Dr. Stillwell is so fond of him — they 
 are always together, which shows the poor 
 old man has something in him — for Stillwell 
 is awfully clever ; " and, all the way to town, 
 Walter's thoughts returned often to his 
 friend's act of benevolence, and he felt in- 
 creased love and admiration for him ; pleased 
 to find how little he was altered from the 
 generous lad at school, whose well-furnished 
 purse was at anybody's service ; who never 
 heard a case of need but he was ready to 
 help — never saw a subscription raised for 
 some sufiering or distress, but his name 
 headed the list. 
 
 The friends parted at the London terminus 
 — Eupert going to his quarters, and Walter 
 to the War Office, in which he had a situa- 
 tion. His father wished him to give it up, 
 as there was no need for him to work — ^he 
 said, proudly, he could place all his children
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 147 
 
 in independence, without their moving a 
 finger — but Walter preferred being employed. 
 Had his home been a much happier one than 
 it was, he would not have cared to stay there 
 doing nothing; and so he contented himself 
 with his weekly visit from Saturday till Mon- 
 day, and had rooms a.t the West-end, where 
 the good old landlady spoiled him as much 
 as she would have done a child of her own. 
 The girls at the Manor House had just 
 left the schoolroom, where, after Gertrude had 
 finished her studies, they had been chatting 
 with Dr. Stillwell, hearing about poor old 
 Master Poyntz, and other village matters 
 — for Gertrude always saucily informed him 
 that she expected him to be the Haseley 
 Mere Gazette, or local Intelligence — and, 
 taking their garden hats, had strolled out on 
 the lawn, when the clatter of horses' hoofs 
 and the barking of dogs in the stable-yard 
 
 proclaimed an arrival. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Why, who is that, I wonder ? " said 
 May. 
 
 " Some one to lunch, I suppose,'' said 
 Lilian. 
 
 "Oh! not Sir Percival Travers, I pray," 
 said Gertrude ; "he is the most awful old 
 bore." 
 
 "Gertrude! gently," said Lilian; "do not 
 express yourself so strongly — it is not pretty 
 in a little girl like you." 
 
 For all answer, Gertrude went up to her 
 sister, and, with a rogueish smile, stood close 
 to her. She was full half a head taller than 
 her little monitor. 
 
 "You foohsh thing!" said Edith, who had 
 been employing herself by gathering a 
 bouquet to wear at dinner ; " Lilian means 
 little in age and sense." 
 
 " Gerty knew what she meant fast enough," 
 said May ; "that was only sauciness ; look! 
 look! see who it is!" she said, in an excited
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 149 
 
 voice, her face brightening in colour as sh(^ 
 spoke. 
 
 " Ah ! Duchess," said Gertrude, in a 
 laughing whisper, as a young man, in high 
 riding boots, carrying a whip in his hand, 
 and followed by a large retriever, walked 
 towards them. 
 
 The new arrival who had produced this 
 little excitement amongst the ladies was suffi- 
 ciently attractive to deserve it ; for, without 
 any pretension to being an Adonis, there was 
 an air about him which bespoke his patrician 
 origin, and an appearance which might 
 excuse " gushing " young ladies, who would 
 have had no objection to be styled "your 
 grace," calling him awfully handsome. He was 
 very pale, with jet-black hair and eyebrows ; 
 his eyes themselves a deep dark l)lue, 
 in some lights seeming black ; his hair was 
 very long, which he had a knack of 
 carelessly tossing back with his very whitt^
 
 150 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 long fingers. Such was his Grace the Duke- 
 of Claverton, who^ advancing to the ladies^ 
 after the customary salutations, said : 
 
 " I am staying at Oakdean, and have 
 taken the liberty of riding over with young 
 Prescott," he said. " Mistress Medlicott is sO' 
 hospitable, I feel sure she will not turn us out." 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Lilian, with 
 her gentle, gracious manner ; "my aunt is 
 always pleased when our neighbours treat us 
 without ceremony ; but where is Mr. 
 Prescott ? " 
 
 " He would see his cob attended to, and 
 I believe he is looking at your horses ; he 
 was such an age, I came on in front of him. 
 Tm afraid you may think him a bore — he's so- 
 awfully funny — and always at it, you know — 
 and brutally restless ; he bores me fright- 
 fully ; if he does you, tell me, and Til kick 
 him. Oh! I often do, I assure you," he said, 
 answering a little murmured remonstrance
 
 A MINGLED YAKN. 151 
 
 of Gertrude's. "A joke or two is very well 
 after dinner, but when a fellow begins in the 
 morning, before one's eyes are wide open, 
 there's nothing for him but kicking." 
 
 " I should think Mr. Prescott is glad 
 when your visits terminate," said May, 
 laughing. 
 
 **No; on the contrary, he's like a spaniel: 
 the more I kick him, the better he likes me. 
 Oh ! here he comes at last. Prescott, allow 
 me to introduce you to — but, ah ! perhaps 
 you have been introduced ? " 
 
 '' Only I have had that pleasure," said 
 Lilian, advancing and offering her hand to 
 Mr. Prescott. " My sisters were not at home 
 when Sir John and his son called." 
 
 *' Then allow me to present you," said the 
 Duke, " Lady Edith, Lady May, and Lady 
 Gertrude Murray." 
 
 Acknowledging, with a very graceful bow, 
 this introduction, Prescott turned and said
 
 152 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 something to his friend, for which he re- 
 ceived a sharp tap with his riding whip. 
 
 "Now, Syd, be quiet, do." 
 
 The boy, for he was not much else, laughed 
 out with more heartiness than was quite con- 
 sistent with conventional good breeding ; 
 and then they all followed Lilian to the 
 drawing-room, and told Gertrude to find 
 Mistress Medlicott. 
 
 The door opened at the moment, and the 
 old lady entered. 
 
 " Ah, Duke ! Fm glad to see you ; and 
 you," she said, extending her other hand to 
 young Prescott ; and there was a look and 
 tone of peculiar tenderness in her greeting of 
 him. " You grow more and more like your 
 great uncle." 
 
 " Awfully good-looking chap he must have 
 been," said Prescott, pulling up his shirt 
 collar with an air of affected conceit. 
 
 " He looked good, which was better," she
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 153 
 
 answered, gently ; " and now," she added, 
 " you have come to lunch with us, of course ?" 
 
 " If you please," answered the Duke, " and 
 if Prescott will behave himself ; but he's an 
 inveterate punster, and hell make our 
 luncheon disagree with us, if he goes on as 
 usual." 
 
 " High spirits befit his age," answered the 
 old lady, smiling ; " and we live so quietly, 
 that a little rousing will do us good." 
 
 Could Bertie AUeyne's nephew do wrong 
 in the eyes of Mistress Elizabeth Medlicott ? 
 
 And as they went to luncheon, and through 
 the whole meal, he ran on with an amount 
 •of nonsense, at which they were obliged to 
 laugh without ceasing ; and Gertrude said, 
 when they all went out to see the grounds, 
 that he really wa*s the most charming fellow 
 she had ever seen, although he had nearly 
 killed her. 
 
 They left the old Manor House, engaged to
 
 154 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 dine there on the Thursday, to meet the 
 Ashleighs. 
 
 It was a beautiful moonlight night, and 
 the girls, having deposited their candles in 
 their own rooms, came back to the large one, 
 where, through the bow window, the 
 moonlight streamed out on the floor ; and,, 
 standing with their arms about each other, 
 they prepared for a long chat. Ma'mselle 
 had gone to bed early, with a headache ; so 
 they thought they were quite safe from in- 
 trusion, and they could have what they so 
 enjoyed, and what May called a thorough 
 good gossip. 
 
 " How soft the moonlight sleeps upon that 
 bank — sit, Jessica,'' said May, smiling, and 
 pulling Lilian do^vn on to the couch near 
 the window. 
 
 " If we sit down, we shall never go to bed," 
 said Gertrude. " The only chance of retiring 
 before cock-crow, is to stand till one's legs
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 155 
 
 ache ; " and, as she spoke, she threw herself 
 on the ground at her sister's feet, and laid her 
 head in her lap. The girls all laughed. 
 
 " Consistent child," said Edith, " is that 
 the way you set us an example ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, I have not the least 
 objection to sit up all night ; I am not at 
 all sleepy, and it's very cosy here ; " and 
 Gertrude drew the little white hand Lilian 
 had laid on her head down to her lips, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " How well his grace looked to-day, Lil, 
 didn't he?" she said. " May, you must really 
 be the Duchess. I shall be proud of my 
 brother-in-law ; and it is imperative one of 
 us should marry him." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! Gerty, darling," said 
 Lilian, " you are too fond of talking such 
 nonsense." 
 
 '^ Nonsense, Lil, dear ? — since when has 
 love and marriage been nonsense ? "
 
 156 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Since the very beginning," said Edith, 
 with a proud toss of her regal-looking head. 
 " Men and women, too, have committed 
 more folly for love, and made themselves 
 greater fools in marriage, than in any other 
 way. I think, to paraphrase an old saying, 
 * When love comes in at the door, sense flies 
 out of the window.' " 
 
 Lilian smiled gently. 
 
 " Why, Edith ; though you speak rarely, 
 you speak severely." 
 
 " I believe," said May, " that Edith silently 
 observes us all, and stores up severe remarks 
 to censure all the follies and weaknesses she 
 is so far above herself ; but, take care. Miss 
 — we shall catch you tripping some day." 
 
 " But, May, do tell us, will you be the 
 Duchess of Claverton ? " persisted Gertrude. 
 
 "It is not fitting May should answer that 
 question to any but the Duke himself. Birdie," 
 said Lilian)
 
 A MINGLED YAEN. 157 
 
 " No, nor will I, Lilian," said May, " you 
 may depend on it." 
 
 " We shall have a pleasant party on 
 Thursday, I think," said Edith. 
 
 "Yes — but who is to be the tenth at 
 dinner ? I can only count nine, as you cannot 
 have the happiness of my company," asked 
 Gertrude. 
 
 " I don't know ; are there only nine ? " 
 
 " No, see — Mr. Ashleigh, Everard, and 
 Grace, the Duke, Mr. Prescott, Auntie, and 
 you three girls. " 
 
 " The Doctor or the Vicar will be the 
 tenth, I suppose : they are always our last 
 resource." 
 
 '' But we can't have the Vicar without the 
 Vicaress. How very stupid of that handsome 
 officer to take himself away." 
 
 Lilian moved her hand from Gertrude's 
 neck, and said : 
 
 " We really must not begin on this
 
 158 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 subject, or we shall stay up till cock-crow, 
 ss Gertrude predicts. Come ! let us go to 
 bed. You must go, certainly, Birdie." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! how glad I shall be 
 when I'm grown up, and do exactly what I 
 like," she said, rising from the ground, pre- 
 paratory to obeying her sister's orders. 
 
 " Ah, Birdie ! " said Lilian, as she kissed 
 her ; **take care you never sigh to be a child 
 again." 
 
 " Fm sure I never shall. Good-night, 
 girls — don't be long." 
 
 " No ; we're coming in a moment." 
 
 " Good night, May." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 " Are you not going to kiss me ? Are you 
 cross. May ? " 
 
 " Cross ? No — nonsense. Must we be 
 always cross if we're not hugging and 
 kissing, and on the broad grin ? " 
 
 Gertrude made no answer — only whispered.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 159 
 
 as she passed Lilian, "What has put her 
 out?" 
 
 "I don't know. Your allusion to the 
 Duke, I think — she does not like it," Lilian 
 answered, in the same tone. 
 
 Gertrude shrugged her shoulders ; and, 
 once more bidding them good night, she 
 went into her room. 
 
 Then Lilian came to May, and said, 
 gently : " Nut-brown maid, what is it ? 
 What has vexed you ? " 
 
 " Gertrude's folly. She's a silly, spoilt 
 thing, and she ought to be punished. She'll 
 be making us all ashamed some day, with her 
 nonsensical remarks." 
 
 " Gertrude has more tact than you give 
 her credit for," said Edith. "She may 
 jest and laugh when we are alone ; but 
 she will never say anything stupid, depend 
 on it." 
 
 " But it is very wrong to let her
 
 160 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 talk so; and if she does it again, I will 
 tell Auntie — tiresome, aggravating little 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Well, let us go to bed now. Oh, May ! 
 you cannot feel angry with that sweet moon 
 looking at you ? " 
 
 " I Ve no such adoration for the moon 
 as you have, Lilian. It is, to me, like some 
 poor characterless thing that has not pluck 
 enough to take her own part. She seems so 
 idle, too, sailing about there, quite satisfied 
 to look at her fair face in every stream and 
 river, and doing nothing else. I love the 
 sun, that does its work so bravely — makes 
 the flowers blow, and ripens fruit, and warms 
 and cheers us all." 
 
 " Oh ! what a long speech. May ; you're 
 so eloquent when you are angry," said Edith, 
 yawning. 
 
 " Angry ! it's enough to make anyone 
 angry," she answered petulently ; " and,
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 161 
 
 rely on it, if Gerty begins that subject 
 again, we shall quarrel." 
 
 " To-morrow, May, dear, we will talk 
 about it," said Lilian, softly. " Let us say 
 no more to-night. Good night." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 " I wanted to talk to you again on the 
 old subject," said Edith, as May left the 
 room. "I do so want to know, Lilian; for 
 I fancy I have guessed," she whispered. 
 
 "It is useless to ask me, dear," said Lilian, 
 blushing, and smiling with a half sad smile ; 
 "I cannot tell." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! it is very tantalising. WeU, 
 then, let us to bed." 
 
 VOL. L M
 
 162 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Eupert — how are you ? 
 You did not expect to find me in town ? " 
 
 " I did not, indeed, uncle ; and should 
 have called, but I met Compton in Bond 
 Street." 
 
 " Well, sit you down — sit you down, now 
 you are come, and tell us where you hail 
 from." 
 
 " I have been down to see an old school- 
 chum at Haseley Mere. His father has bought 
 a l)eautiful place, and I have never managed 
 to go and see it before ; so I thought I would 
 run down for a day or two." 
 
 " Quite right, my boy ! — quite right ! Ijut 
 a day or two is enough to spend in the
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 163 
 
 -country. Wretched place ! Only fit to 
 liarbour sheep, and turnips, and pigs, and — 
 and all those kind of things." 
 
 Eupert laughed. 
 
 "Well, I should not like, I think, to 
 l^ass my life in rural solitudes ; but it is 
 very lovely, and one might exist in such a 
 place as Mr. Ashleigh's for some considerable 
 time." 
 
 " Pretty girls, there, you dog — eh ? " 
 
 "Not exactly at the Priory; Miss Ashleigh 
 has no pretensions to beauty ; but there are 
 some lovely ladies in the village. Doubt- 
 less, you know them — the Ladies Murray, 
 daughters of the late Duke of Claverton V 
 
 " Claverton — oh ! yes, of course. He 
 
 married a Miss Medlicott. I knew tlie 
 
 Medlicotts years ago. I used to meet them 
 
 at the Earl of Beauwater's. Yes ; that is the 
 
 •same family. The Duke and Duchess are both 
 
 dead, and their aunt — Mistress Medlicott, as 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 slie appears to be universally called — takes 
 cliarge of them. Ah ! yes ! — I know, I kno^y. 
 A j^retty, bright thing she was, like a ray of 
 sunshine. No one knew why she remained 
 Mistress Medlicott ; l)ut I suppose she 
 did. And they're good-looking girls, are 
 they?" 
 
 " Very — at least, the three I have seen 
 — the eldest did not come down the day I 
 called. They seem to disagree with us aljout 
 the country, uncle, for they only come 
 up to town for three weeks in the early 
 part of the season, and then fly back to their 
 beautiful home ; and, really, it is beau- 
 tiful ; and they look so charming, walking 
 about in the grounds, adding another 
 beauty to the countless ones around, like a 
 group of fair flowers — fair as those that 
 grow there in boundless profusion." 
 
 '' Dear — dear 1 Have you left your heart 
 amono^st these flowers, sir — eli ? "
 
 A MINGLED YARX. 165 
 
 *' No, uncle; I think not; but what made 
 you so soon tired of the grouse?" said 
 Kupert, laughing. 
 
 "Oh ! it was too hot ; and I wanted 
 to get back. I'm like a fish out of Avater 
 down there. I wish I'd never bought 
 the place ; and, but for you, would sell it, 
 Kupert." 
 
 " My dear uncle, pray do not let me, or 
 any thought for me, prevent your doing as 
 you like. I owe you enough akeady — more 
 than I can ever repay." 
 
 '* Don't mention it, boy ! — don't mention 
 it ! You will repay me hy heuig a gentle- 
 man, in word and deed ; keeping yourself 
 from low connexions and acquaintances ; 
 following your profession with diligence — I 
 ask no more at your hands." 
 
 Eupert was silent ; l;ut a look of deep pain 
 had crossed liis fiice as his uncle spoke, and 
 at length he said, with some effort, " Do
 
 166 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 you still send tlie money to Daveney Com- 
 mon, uncle ? " 
 
 '' Send tlie money ? why, of course I do. 
 Am I a man to break my word ? " 
 
 " No, no, uncle ; but I mean still to the 
 same address ? " 
 
 *' Yes, of course ; why ? " 
 
 " I fancied I saw the recipient of your 
 kindness at Haseley Mere." 
 
 " You did, Kupert ; you have not broken 
 your word ? " 
 
 *' Uncle ! have you not made me a gentle- 
 man?" said Eupert. "But, ungrateful, as it 
 seems, to say so, it has been at such a sacri- 
 fice, that I would rather be a plough-boy." 
 
 " Eupert ! you surprise and pain me," 
 said Major Carrington. 
 
 " I fear I do ; but I can hold my peace no 
 longer ; I feel so base — so worthless." 
 
 " Why should you ? " said the old man, 
 striving to be calm. *'You have been, as it
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 167 
 
 were, forced to take this course. It is not 
 your free will ; you are doing a good thing 
 for yourself, from which no harm can arise — • 
 comforting my declining years ; soothing the 
 latter end of a life that has been anything 
 but a bright one. Do not say you wish it 
 otherwise. You would not so disappoint 
 me, after all." 
 
 Rupert had sat with his hand covering 
 his face during this speech ; at its conclusion, 
 he said : 
 
 " No, sir ; I suppose I must bear it to the 
 end ; but I could not resist telling you that it 
 is a bitter pain and grief to me.'' 
 
 *' Bear it to the end ! and when I am 
 in the grave, and you are enjoying the for- 
 tune I shall leave you, will you then undo 
 all I have done, and go back to the scenes 
 from which I rescued you ? Rupert — can 
 you mean this ? Answer me, sir ! " said the 
 old man, with vehemence.
 
 1G8 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " I cannot tell what I shall do/' said 
 Eupert; "we none of us can say what our 
 course will be a year, a month, a day hence ; 
 we are tools in the hands of a Higher Power, 
 I know, and for some wise purpose I teach 
 myself to believe. He has ordered this, 
 which is to me so hateful." 
 
 " Hateful ! hateful I sir, is it ? " said the 
 old man, rising and walking excitedly up 
 and down the room ; " hateful to be the 
 petted child of an old man with more money 
 than wits, perhaps ; to have no wish or 
 whim ungratified ; to be in a position that 
 gives you an entree to the best society of 
 Europe ; to have had the education of a 
 gentleman — of a nobleman, if you come to 
 that ; this is hateful, is it ? very good ; go 
 then — leave me ; go back to the dirt I took 
 you from ; and I, sir — I will try to forget 
 your existence, and leave my money to some 
 d — d hospital. Oh, Eupert!" he exclaimed.
 
 A MINGLED YAEX 169 
 
 suddenly turning to him, and extending 
 his, arms to him. " My boy, with my 
 Alice's face — you could not have the heart 
 to use me so I " 
 
 "Uncle, you try me sorely! You know 
 I could not go back to the old life," said 
 Rupert, in a voice which trembled with 
 emotion; *'but if you would only alter one 
 stipulation — let me see and own — " 
 
 " Impossible ! impossible ! Rupert. Alice 
 made the choice ; time was given for the 
 decision ; it was made, and it is irrevoc- 
 able ; either go from me at once, never to 
 see me again, or go on as we now do. I 
 thought I had suffered enough on this 
 fiubject, but it seems to pursue me." 
 
 " Well, well, sir," said Rupert, rising and 
 coming to the side of the old man, who Avas 
 trembling with agitation, " I must say no 
 more now; Init in pity leave me to act as 
 my conscience directs, when it can no
 
 170 A MINGLED YARX. 
 
 longer pain you. I will only ask this — 
 think it over, and make my life less bur- 
 densome to me, by your consent. I have 
 business, and must go now ; forgive me, 
 dear uncle, for having thus worried you, 
 but I felt I must speak. Good bye,, 
 for the present — shall I come in in the 
 evening ? " 
 
 " As you will — as you will. His life 
 burdensome ! The life I have sheltered so 
 carefully for her sake," he murmured, " that 
 her son should live to tell me I have made 
 him wretched ! ' 
 
 Kupert took his hand and shook it warmly, 
 but his uncle gave him no responsive grasj) ; 
 and when the door closed on him, the brave 
 old soldier, who had borne the brunt of 
 many battles, faced so many times danger 
 and death undaunted, covered his face with 
 his hands, and burst into tears. 
 
 Kupert did not go back in the evening ; a
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 171 
 
 friend, whom he had not seen for some time, 
 pressed him to dine at his ckib, and when he 
 reached his quarters, he found a note from 
 his uncle's butler, requesting his immediate 
 presence, as his master had been seized with 
 paralysis. 
 
 Rupert hurried off at once, remained the 
 night with his poor uncle, but he was quite 
 speechless and unconscious, and the physician 
 gave no hope of returning sense, even if he 
 lived. Poor Eupert ! with his sorrow for his 
 uncle was mingled the recollection that he 
 could never now absolve him from his 
 promise. 
 
 On the day before the dinner party at the 
 Manor House, Mr. Ashleigh came into the 
 draAving-room, where Grace was seated, 
 working by the open window, every now and 
 then putting the work down in her lap, look- 
 ing out on to the lawn, witli that sad, wistful 
 look in her eyes that was always more or
 
 172 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 less in them. Mr. Ashleigh had an open 
 letter in his hand. 
 
 " My dear Grace, I am so sorry I cannot 
 go to-morrow to the Manor House ; you 
 must send a note at once with my excuses." 
 
 " Yes, papa ; what am I to say ? " 
 
 " That an important business letter has 
 'Called me to town, and that I shall not be 
 back until Saturday. Everard can take you, 
 you know." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! papa, and you go to-day, and 
 will not be back until Saturday?" 
 
 A very close observer might have noted 
 the faintest tinge of colour on the girls pale 
 cheek, and a brighter light in her eyes as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Yes ; I go by the half-past four train, 
 and do not return until Saturday. I shall 
 €ome down with Walter, you know. Send 
 at once, my love," and he left the room. 
 
 Grace gathered up her work, and, laying
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 17^ 
 
 it aside, wrote the note, and sent it, and alsa 
 
 another containing one short Une, to the post. 
 
 That night the villao-ers comino; home saw 
 
 the strano'e lio-hts oieamino- in tlie unused 
 
 O o O O 
 
 wing of the Priory, and two boys declared 
 they saw a tall figure in black pass the large 
 window that looked into the orchard. 
 
 " How provoking ! Mr. Ashleigh can't 
 come," said May, as the girls assembled in 
 the dining-room for lunch. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Auntie has just had a note from Grace ; 
 he's gone to town on business ; and now 
 Auntie has asked the Doctor, and we shall 
 be nine again." 
 
 *' Well, there's luck in odd numbers," said 
 Gertrude ; " we must console ourselves with 
 that idea." 
 
 " It's a horrid nuisance ; we can't ask any 
 one now, it is too late." 
 
 "It is an excellent absence," said Edith ;
 
 174 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " I cannot bear that man ; we can spare him 
 better than any one." 
 
 " There is something about him not alto- 
 gether pleasant, I admit," said Lilian ; " yet 
 he is so very polite and courteous — almost 
 overpoweringly so. Here comes Auntie. 
 Aimtie, dear, it seems fated that we are to 
 be only nine to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, love ; but it is not a formal party, 
 and, therefore, does not signify so much. We 
 will use the new epergne ; and whose turn 
 is it to arrange the flowers ? " 
 
 "Mine, Auntie," said May, ''so depend 
 on their being perfection." 
 
 Auntie laughed, and patted the dimpled, 
 laudiinoc face she loved so much. 
 
 " You have none of you told me," she said 
 as they took their places at table, " what you 
 think of my young friend, Mr. Prescott ? " 
 
 " I had seen him before, Auntie," said 
 Tiilian.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 175 
 
 " So you had, my dear ; but, May, what 
 did you think of him ? " 
 
 " Well, Auntie, I thought he had rather 
 too long a tongue." 
 
 "May thinks, perhaps, no one should 
 indulge in an elongation of that unruly 
 member but herself. Auntie," said Gertrude ; 
 ^' I think he was charming." 
 
 " He had a very good, merry laugh — what 
 you call ' infectious,' " said Ma niselle ; *' it 
 made me laugh all by myself, when it came 
 to me from the garden." 
 
 "He is wonderfully merry, certainly," said 
 Lilian ; " incurring his Grace's displeasure for 
 his persistent joking." 
 
 " I think a * funny ' man is such a bore," 
 said Edith, as she leaned indolently back in her 
 chair, dropping bits of biscuit into Nep's 
 mouth, " I quite agree with tlie Duke, 
 'laughing is so tiring, that one only wants 
 to do it so very occasionally. ' "
 
 176 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 '' Edith, you grow lazier and lazier every 
 day/' said May. 
 
 " Nay, nay," answered Mistress Medlicott,, 
 " lazy is too hard a word ; Edith is not lazy 
 when there is anything to do, only she ol)- 
 jects to exert herself unnecessarily." 
 
 " Yes, dear Auntie, you are right ; I save 
 myself for an occasion, and then come out 
 strong." 
 
 " By-the-bye, Auntie," interrupted May, 
 " have you heard the news, that poor old 
 Poyntz, the schoolmaster, has sent in his 
 resignation to the Vicar, and is going to 
 leave directly ? " 
 
 " No, I have not heard it ; but what con- 
 nection is there between Poyntz and Edith ? " 
 asked Auntie, smiling. 
 
 " Nothing, beyond the fact that Edie said 
 the other day, when we passed the school, 
 she should ask him to let her have a Sunday 
 class of boys to teach ; I thought that wa^
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 177 
 
 wonderful for her ; more fatigue than laugh- 
 ing ; I can't imagine a more unpleasant way 
 of exerting one's self." 
 
 " The labour we delight in physics pain," 
 said Edith. *'The amusement I should feel in 
 endeavouring to drive sense into those bucolic 
 heads would prevent any feeling of fatigue.*' 
 
 "You strange child!" said Lilian, "I think 
 you would find that teaching is very fatigu- 
 ing. I assure you, I am more tired after an 
 hour with my little girls on Sunday, than 
 after a long walk." 
 
 "Ah 1 girls — who would teach girls ? " 
 
 " Some girls it is a great large pleasure to 
 teach," said Ma'mselle, looking lovingly at 
 her pupils. 
 
 " Ah ! like me, Ma'mselle dear, you mean, 
 don't you ? " said Gertrude. 
 
 " I mean all of you ; I should, if I could 
 have my way, make you all again leetle 
 things, to commence again to teach you." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 '' Oh, dear ! we can't echo that wish, 
 darling ; we would rather now have you to 
 play with us," said May. 
 
 " Ah ! soon I shall be no use ; my last 
 little girl is growing a young lady, knowing 
 as much as I can teach." And tears filled 
 Ma'mselle's eyes, though she strove to hide 
 them with a laugh. 
 
 " Ma'mselle, a kind friend is always use- 
 ful," said Mistress Medlicott ; " while I have 
 a home, I trust you will do me the honour to 
 share it ; and when I am gone to my last 
 home, I shall leave, as a precious legacy to 
 the care of my dear girls, my valued friend, 
 Mademoiselle Le Clere." 
 
 The poor little French woman could only 
 murmur : 
 
 '' Ah, Madame! vous etes trop bonne pour 
 moi. 
 
 There was a moment's silence ; May put her 
 arm round her aunt, and kissed her; and then
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 179 
 
 'Gertrude, suddenly suggesting that Nep was 
 very like Dr. Stillwell in the face, caused a de- 
 cided change in the conversation ; and Lilian, 
 reminding them that the carriage was ordered 
 for some calls at half-past two, they rose from 
 table, and went to get ready for the drive. 
 
 Ma'mselle and the two younger girls were 
 to execute some commissions in the village ; 
 while Lilian and May were driving with Mis- 
 tress Medlicott, and were proceeding leisurely 
 along — the heat being too much to permit of 
 much exertion — when they saw approaching 
 them a girl whom they at once recognised as 
 -one to whom, some time before, they had 
 given the name of the " Meadow Beauty." 
 
 " Why don't we ask the Doctor who she 
 is ? " said Gertrude. 
 
 " Why, I had forgotten her, it is so long 
 since I have seen her ; I believe she is a 
 Dissenter — she never comes to church," said 
 
 Edith. 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "Nonsense, Edith, she does; nearly every 
 Sunday I see her — she sits with Mrs. Broderip, 
 and, I should think, is some relation ; you 
 know it was down by her farm in the 
 meadows we met her first." 
 
 " So it was, Gerty ; well, we will ask the 
 Doctor about her to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, and I shall quarrel with him if he 
 cannot tell me all about her." 
 
 " Ah ! Gertrude, you are so hard on that 
 poor man," said Ma'mselle ; *' you boolly 
 him." 
 
 *' No, no, Ma'mselle," said Gertrude, 
 bursting into a laugh, more loud than was 
 quite correct, but so joyous as to purchase 
 forgiveness; ''I don't 'boolly' him ; but I am 
 oblio^ed to be rather severe with him, or I 
 should not manage him at all, or get an 
 ounce of news out of him." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! Gertrude; here comes Mr. 
 Ashleigh — do not make such a noise."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 181 
 
 With a courteous, grave, "Good morning," 
 and keeping his hat off till he had passed 
 them, Everard walked on ; he was too shy 
 and reserved to stop and speak to them, 
 but he turned and looked after them 
 when he had got some distance away, and 
 said, half-aloud — "that child is like sun- 
 shine " — and then he sighed, and won- 
 dered if sunshine would ever come into his 
 life ; it was all very dark and dreary now — 
 and yet not all, and at the thought a sweet 
 smile brightened all his face : Walter ! dear 
 Walter! what would his life be without him? 
 Ah ! such a brother was compensation for 
 much sorrow. He thought of him all the 
 way home, and, pushing open the gate, went 
 up the drive, when he heard his name called. 
 It was the woman at the lodge running after 
 him. She whispered some eager communica- 
 tion to him, and ran back > while he, with 
 quicker steps, went on towards the house.
 
 182 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Very charming looked the three ladies 
 Murray, as they entered the drawing-room, 
 brilliantly lighted with myriads of wax lights, 
 and scented by the flowers in the conser- 
 vatory, where Gertrude's doves were cooing, 
 and the fountain was keeping up its prett}' 
 accompaniment to them. Better than beau- 
 tiful were the bright, fresh, fair faces, with 
 the look of high breeding stamped on every 
 feature, and revealing itself also in the 
 graceful bearing and gracious manners, 
 on which point good Mistress Medlicott 
 was most particular ; their dresses of white 
 silk, so simply but beautifully made and 
 put on, were varied only by different
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 183 
 
 flowers ; they always choose their own 
 favourite ones, according to the season, and 
 now the pure, white blossoms of the lily, 
 mingled with the deHcate hot-house fern, 
 gleamed in Lilian's sunny hair, and the 
 richest of dark crimson roses in Edith's; 
 while among the nut-brown braids of May's 
 lay nestled a bunch of scarlet geraniums, 
 mixed with some dark, shining leaves. 
 They had left Gertrude busy at a German 
 exercise, having been to the school-room to 
 kiss her before coming down. 
 
 "You all look very nice," she had said, 
 with a slight sigh. "How glad I shall be 
 when Fve done the high white muslin 
 stage." 
 
 " Oh, Gertrude ! I would willingly change 
 places with you," said Lilian. 
 
 " May would nt. Good-bye, Duchess." 
 
 May had only shaken her fan at her, and 
 ran down stairs.
 
 184 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 They were a very merry party at dinner ; 
 for Mr. Prescott was in his brightest spirits, 
 and the eflforts of the Duke to keep him in 
 order, added greatly to the fun. 
 
 It was an exquisite night, warm and dry ; 
 and when they left the drawing-room, the 
 girls all went into the gardens, and Mistress 
 Medlicott ordered the coffee to be carried 
 there to them ; so, with rugs spread on the 
 ground, and opera cloaks wrapped round 
 them, they sat in a picturesque group — 
 laughing, singing snatches of songs, making 
 a Babel of sweet sounds. Suddenly Gertrude 
 exclaimed, "Whats that?" pointing eagerly 
 to the shrubbery. 
 
 " Oh ! don t, Gertrude," said May, starting 
 from her seat ; " you frighten me." 
 
 ** Nonsense, May, I can't help it — I see 
 something moving in the shrubbery — ^black. 
 Look ! Look ! there it is again." 
 
 " Oh ! Lady Gertrude, what can it be ? "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 185 
 
 said Grace, with a white scared face, as she 
 saw, where Grertrude pointed, some object 
 certainly moving amongst the shrubs. 
 
 " It's Nep," said Lilian, rising and moving 
 towards the spot. 
 
 "Don't— don't go, Lily I" said May, 
 holding her back. *'It's much bigger than a 
 -dog. Oh ! let us scream." 
 
 " No — no! silly girls!" said Edith, who had 
 not yet spoken, but had kept her eyes fixed 
 on the spot; "there's nothing to scream at. It 
 is some figure in a cloak — man or woman — 
 who seems hunting for something in the 
 shrubs. I will go and see what it is." 
 
 " Yes, we will go together," said Lilian. 
 "Come along, Edie;" and, springing away 
 from May's hold, Lilian took Edith's hands, 
 and they ran across the moonlit lawn — May, 
 who could no longer be restrained, screaming 
 to them to stop. Gertrude had, in the mean- 
 while, quietly walked into the house to call
 
 186 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 one of the men servants to see into the 
 matter; and at May's piercing screams, the 
 gentlemen, who had just entered the drawing- 
 room, came hastily out — the Duke arriving 
 first, and eagerly inquiring '' What w\as the 
 matter?" 
 
 " Oh ! there is someone, or something,, 
 creeping about in that shrubbery," gasped 
 poor May, in her fright ^seizing the Duke's 
 arm, as she pointed eagerly to the retreat- 
 ing figures of the girls ; '' and Lily and 
 Edith will go." 
 
 " Oh ! what fun," said the Duke ; "I hope 
 it's a thief. Come, Prescott, old fellow I 
 Here's a chance to distinguish yourself." 
 
 '^What's the row? A thief! AVhere ? 
 Permit me to make his immediate acquaint- 
 ance. Which road did he take ? " 
 
 " Along the shrubbery. You go one way, 
 and 111 go the other." 
 
 '* Let us go in to Auntie," said May.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 187 
 
 " Yes ; you had better. Come along^ 
 Prescott ; " and away went the two young 
 men — May, Grace, and Gertrude, running 
 quickly into the drawing-room to relate the 
 news to Auntie, who was quietly chatting to 
 Dr. Stillwell and Everard. The two gentle- 
 men rose at once to follow the others, but 
 May and Grace implored them not. 
 
 "Oh! do not leave us. Doctor, for good- 
 ness sake ! " said Gertrude. " Imagine if 
 they drive the creature in here." 
 
 " I think Lilian and Edith are too bold,'' 
 said Auntie; "perhaps, Mr. Ashleigh, you 
 will kindly go, and say I request they will 
 come in. One protector is enough for us, I 
 think, Gertrude." She smiled, as Everard 
 went to do her bidding. 
 
 "Oh ! I don't know; I should not mind 
 fifty," answered Gertrude. "Now, Doctor, 
 sit close to me." 
 
 "Are you frightened. Miss Ashleigh?''
 
 188 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ■said Auntie, looking kindly at the pale, sad- 
 faced girl. 
 
 '' I was startled at first; but I think 
 it can only be one of the servants — it's 
 too bright a moon for thieves to prowl 
 about." 
 
 "Certainly; I do not feel alarmed myself 
 at all. Nep would have given us warning 
 of bad characters lurking about." 
 
 " But, Auntie, Nep is in the stable-yard ; 
 we could not hear him," said May. " Oh ! 
 had we not better shut the windows ? " 
 
 " Dear no, my Lady ! " said the Doctor, 
 who was sitting close to Gertrude, according 
 to her bidding, holding her little hand in 
 his large ones, much as he would have im- 
 prisoned a small bird — " this is the last place 
 a thief would enter ; but, really, I think it is 
 all a mistake, and that, as Miss Ashleigh 
 says, it is some one who has a perfect right 
 to be there."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 189 
 
 In the meanwhile, the Duke and Mr.. 
 Prescott had reached the shrubbery ; and, 
 running in at different gates to catch the 
 interloper either way, Prescott, running at a 
 desperate pace, suddenly nearly stumbled 
 over a figure standing at the entrance of a 
 summer-house. 
 
 " Ah ! there you are," he exclaimed, seizing 
 it in a firm grip ; *' now, who are you ? and 
 what do you want ? " 
 
 "Oh 1 please sir,'' said a small voice, " I 
 bean't a doing o' nothing." 
 
 " Then, how dare you do it, sir ; Pm 
 ashamed of you. Why, sir,'' he said, drag- 
 ging the unfortunate boy from the shadow 
 of the trees into the moonlight, " you ought 
 to have been in bed hours ago. Does your 
 maternal parent allow you these moonlight 
 peregrinations ? " 
 
 " She ain't got none as I knows on, sir ; 
 but, please, I was set to watch him, and I
 
 190 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 fell asleep, and when I woke lie were gone/' 
 
 " Who's he ? and what made you think 
 ^ he/ whatever ' he ' may be, was in these 
 grounds ? " 
 
 '' 'Cause Jack Stiles said as 'ow he seed 
 him, sir, come in this here grounds ; and, 
 oh ! please, sir, do let me go on a hunting 
 for him — Muster Still well will just be angry 
 for me a letting on him go." 
 
 " Why didn't you chain him up, you 
 muff?" 
 
 " I warn't told to, sir, only to watch him ; 
 and I was that tired, I fell asleep. Please 
 let me go, sir ; I won't do no mischief." 
 
 " No, sir ; we will pursue this interesting 
 research together. I will help you to look 
 for ' he ' ; but, to assist me in my discovery, 
 perhaps you will kindly inform me if ' he ' is 
 a bull, a pig, or a dog ? " 
 
 " Noa, sir," he answered, grinning, " he 
 <iin't none o' they — he's no 'arm."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 191 
 
 "No' arm ! now, what animal is a 
 no 'arm ? Never mind, let us pursue this 
 re-search. It is becoming zoologically inter- 
 -esting, sir ; and, remember, sir, if a 'no 
 'arm' does not appear, I shall be compelled to 
 deliver you over to the strong arm of the 
 law ; " and so saying, holding the boy still 
 fast, Prescott proceeded down the shrubbery, 
 the boy diving behind every thick shrub, 
 Prescott still following, and never losing 
 hold of him. Once, he exclaimed, *' I can 
 see his two tails ! " as he dived behind 
 ii large tree. 
 
 ** The interest thickens," exclaimed Pres- 
 cott, more to himself than the boy ; " the 
 thing has two tails ! you see we are fast 
 approaching the end of this shrubbery 
 without discovering anything. Hark ! 
 voices." 
 
 '' Prescott ! Prescott ! where are you ? " 
 called the Duke.
 
 192 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Here — here ; I am coming with a cap- 
 tive." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear fellow," said the Duke, 
 appearing in sight, " why, who have you 
 got here ? " 
 
 " A captive, I tell you ; I found him." 
 
 *' Never mind him," the Duke interrupted, 
 '' I've found the real prowler ; and these 
 plucky girls are staying with him while I 
 come for you ; but noAv, perhaps, he'll get 
 troublesome ; " and dragging the unlucky 
 boy with them, they ran rapidly on, 
 till they came to a spot where stood an 
 old man, with his grey head all uncovered, 
 in a long dressing gown, the girdle of 
 which, untied, lay on the ground, trailing 
 in streamers behind — the ladies Murray 
 on either side of him ; Edith's hand on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 Before Prcscott could ask a question, or 
 express his surprise, the boy wrenched him-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 193 
 
 self from his grasp, and, rushing up to the 
 old man, said : 
 
 " Oh ! I be glad — come on, old measter, 
 dear — thee'lt have a cold now — and I 
 shall just get a hiding; come along — 
 come." 
 
 "Are you in charge of this poor man, 
 boy ? " asked the Duke. 
 
 "Yes, sir — he'll come along o' me now, 
 won't you, measter, dear ? — it's little Bob, 
 you know — come on ; you knows Bob ? " 
 
 " Yes — yes ; a good little boy ; but you 
 shouldn't run away, you know, from school ; 
 nor from your father ; your poor old father 
 wants you." 
 
 " Take me back to him then, measter, 
 won't you ? " said the boy readily ; " I'll go 
 back along o' you — come on." 
 
 " Yes — yes ; are these the angels I'm 
 always seeing; but you can't have my boy — 
 give me back my boy," he said, clasping his 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 trembling hands together, and looking plead- 
 ingly in Edith's face. 
 
 '' We have not got your boy, Mr. Poyntz," 
 said Edith, calmly and firmly. "Dr. Still- 
 well is here ; and if you will walk towards 
 home with your little scholar, I will send the 
 Doctor to you ; now, I am sure you will go 
 at once." 
 
 He looked at her searchingly for a 
 moment, and she steadily returned his gaze ; 
 and then, taking the little boy's hand, he 
 moved slowly away. 
 
 " Let us run back and send the Doctor ; 
 he can do anything with him,*' said Edith, 
 hurriedly ; and, running on, they were soon 
 through the shrubbery and on the lawn. 
 
 Their story was soon told ; and the Doctor 
 lost no time in words, but followed at once 
 the poor old man in whom he had felt so 
 warm an interest ; and the girls, sitting 
 down beside Auntie, began to give a
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 195 
 
 more circumstantial account of their 
 adventure. 
 
 ''You never saw such pluck, Miss Med- 
 licott, as the ladies showed," said the 
 Duke, " really magnificent ; they did not 
 know that they might not be attacked 
 by some furious highwayman with a 
 revolver." 
 
 ''Nothing was ever seen like it, but my 
 seizing the dastardly marauder in the shrub- 
 bery," said Prescott, "and, unhappily, no 
 one saw that but myself It was fine — it 
 was worthy of — let's see, who's the party 
 that displayed such heroic courage at — " 
 
 " Oh ! shut up, Syd," said the Duke ; " I 
 
 want to tell Mistress Medlicott about the 
 
 ladies. They were considerably in advance of 
 
 me, you know, and, to my astonishment, I saw 
 
 them approach the figure, and address it. I 
 
 called loudly that the person, whoever it 
 
 might be, should know help was at hand, 
 
 2
 
 196 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 and ran as swiftly as I could. When I got 
 near, I found it was an unhappy being, evi- 
 dently not in possession of his senses, to 
 whom Lady Edith was talking without the 
 slightest fear ; and they both consented to 
 stay with him whilst I went for Prescott— 
 actually, it was magnificent." 
 
 "I don't see there was anything to be 
 afraid of in poor old Poyntz," said May. 
 
 " But, you see," said the Duke, turning to 
 her with his bright smile, "they did not 
 know it was old Poyntz, and, in point of 
 fact, it was not him ; it w^as only what was 
 left of him ; and he really presented the 
 strangest appearance in a long brown 
 dressing gown, with a girdle streaming 
 behind him — oh ! it's a shame to laugh ; but, 
 upon my honour, it was a most strange, 
 extraordinary sight." 
 
 " A no arm, with two tails," said Prescott, 
 with the utmost gravity.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 197 
 
 '' A what ! " said the Duke, going ofif into 
 a fit of laughter. 
 
 "The person on whom I so bravely seized, 
 with that heroism which apppears to be 
 utterly unappreciated, informed me that he 
 was searching for 'he;' and, on my inquiring 
 what he was — pig, dog, or bull — he said 
 he was * no 'arm,' and presently, with a 
 wild cry, he rushed into a bush, exclaim- 
 ing, * I see his two tails.' Talk of 
 courage — think of me pursuing such a 
 monster ! " 
 
 " Well, except that, I am sorry to hear of 
 poor old Poyntz's condition," said Auntie. 
 '' I think the adventure has been more amus- 
 ing than dangerous; and a lesson to our timid 
 ones not to give way too soon to alarms. 
 Where is the frightened bird ? " she asked, 
 looking round to where May had been 
 seated. 
 
 " She is gone into the conservatory,
 
 198 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Auntie," said Gertrude ; *' shall I fetcli 
 her ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I think we must have some 
 music." 
 
 "Oh ! please," said the Duke, ''music here 
 is entrancing." 
 
 " You are very good, your Grace, to say 
 so, I am sure," said Auntie, bowing and 
 smiling. "We must ask, in return, for a 
 song from you." 
 
 "Oh! with pleasure. I'll sing as long as 
 you like." 
 
 "Now, Duke, gently," said Prescott. 
 " You know you can't fulfil that promise, 
 because it would result in your passing the 
 rest of your life singing." 
 
 For all return to his compliment, the 
 Duke threw a little pellet of paper at him, 
 which he had been amusing himself with 
 rolling up while he talked. 
 
 " Some one will have to be sent in search
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 199 
 
 of Lady Gertrude, now," said Everard to 
 Lilian; " she seems to fail in inducing Lady 
 May's return." 
 
 " Yes ; I can't think what they are doing. 
 I had better play first ; you can all talk, you 
 know," she said, smiling. 
 
 " You do not insist that we shall, I hope." 
 
 " No ; but people seem to like to do so." 
 
 ** Not real music lovers. I shall go and 
 sit in the corner, and, with shut eyes, hear 
 every note you play, and set thoughts to the 
 melody." 
 
 *• It is pleasant to play to such listeners ; 
 I must do my best," she answered. 
 
 He opened the piano for her, and went 
 away, as he said, to sit alone, where no one 
 could speak to him, and thoroughly enjoy 
 the exquisite melody which she played. 
 
 During its performance, Gertrude came 
 back into the room ; and, going up to 
 Mistress Medlicott, said in a low whisper :
 
 200 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Something has put May out; she says 
 she feels faint." 
 
 " Dear — dear ! she has frightened herself 
 so ; shall I go to her ? '' 
 
 " No, no, Auntie, she's — " and Gertrude 
 crossed two of her long white fingers, and 
 looked mischievously in her aunt's face ; " I 
 promised to get Edith to sing first, and then 
 she will come back ; but she will not sing 
 herself, she says." 
 
 Edith sang twice, by the Duke's urgent 
 request, before May returned. At the end of 
 the last verse, she came and sat on a low 
 seat, close to the conservatory doors ; and 
 when the song was finished, and he had 
 warmly expressed his thanks, the Duke came 
 across to her, and said : " Now, Lady May, 
 for my treat — the * Parlate d'Amor.' " 
 
 " I cannot sing to-night," she answered, 
 haughtily ; " my cowardice has shaken my 
 voice."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 201 
 
 " I am so sorry ; but I do not wonder at 
 it. I am sure it was enough to frighten any- 
 one to see someone prowling about in one's 
 grounds — such an extraordinary figure, too. 
 I assure you I was frightened to death. I 
 think your sisters were miracles." 
 
 " So you said before. I think their 
 bravery less remarkable than my cowardice. 
 Had I ventured to go in search, I should 
 have seen at once, as they did, it was the 
 poor schoolmaster, and there was no 
 cause for fear — but please drop the subject ; 
 there has been more than enough said 
 about it." 
 
 " Yes ; we will bury old Poyntz out of 
 sight. I will go and sing for you, shall I ? 
 I have a new song you have not heard, so 
 deliciously sentimental — that goose Prescott 
 always says it compels him to drop a silent 
 tear. It is called, * Love me, or I die.' " 
 
 He sang his song, and they begged for
 
 202 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 another ; and then the Ashleighs' carriage 
 came, and a message from Dr. Stillwell that 
 he was going to stay all night with Poyntz ; 
 and so the evening broke up ; but the Duke 
 loitered about, turning over the music, 
 talking gaily of every imaginable subject, 
 Prescott having twice to remind him that 
 the trap was waiting, and that Firefly ob- 
 jected to that proceeding; but he went at 
 last, and May, who seemed quite to have 
 recovered her usual manner, put carefully in 
 water on her dressing-table a Cape jasmine, 
 that had decorated his Grace's coat all the 
 evening.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 203 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 Prescott had quite as much to do as he 
 knew how with his horse for the first few 
 miles; for Firefly had objected, as her master 
 expected she would, to be kept waiting, 
 and revenged herself on him by nearly 
 pulling his arms out of joint. Therefore, they 
 could not hold much conversation for the 
 first mile or so ; but puffed away at their 
 cigars in silence. 
 
 The Duke spoke first : " Melancholy party 
 that." 
 
 " Who ? —where ? " 
 
 *' I mean Miss Ashleigh ; she's a sort of 
 death's head on a mop-stick — such a con- 
 trast to those bright, beautiful girls." 
 
 " Now, don't go hurting my feelings, or I
 
 204 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 shall be obliged to revenge myself by deposit- 
 ing you in a ditch. I think there is some- 
 thing inexpressibly touching about that 
 young lady. Melancholy has marked her 
 for her own ; and I'm thinking seriously of 
 disputing the point with melancholy. 
 Eeally, now, I think we should be a sweet 
 contrast — she 'pensiero/ and me 'allegretto.'" 
 
 "Well, I hear she'll have no end of 
 money ; so I advise you to go in and win." 
 
 " The brother is of the muff species, is he 
 not?" 
 
 " No — indeed ! a very clever, intelligent 
 fellow ; quiet and sad. That appears to run 
 in the family ; but he talks well, and with 
 a vein of quiet humour, which is very 
 pleasant. And what a sweet voice it is ! I 
 thought he ought to sing ; but he says he does 
 not — but when he speaks, it is like music. 
 There has been a great deal written about 
 sweet voices — but I think they are very rare."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 205 
 
 " I did not hear Ashleigh speak." 
 
 "My dear fellow, I don't suppose you ever 
 hear anyone but yourself ; but now, come, 
 give me your opinion of tlie ladies Murray. 
 You are no bad judge of character ; let us 
 hear your verdict." 
 
 " Well, to commence with — the eldest, of 
 course, gentle and pliable to a fault, with 
 more sentiment than sense — more heart than 
 head — a party to exclaim : ' I know not ; I 
 ask not if guilt's in that heart ; I but know 
 that I love thee, whatever thou art.' " 
 
 *' Well, go on," said the Duke, laughing ; 
 " Lady May ? " 
 
 " Sincere, determined, irascible, passionate 
 in love and hate — with so powerful a wish to 
 please, that it affects all her actions." 
 
 " Humph ! You think that, do you ? Well 
 —Lady Edith?" 
 
 " Indifferent to praise or blame — heroic — 
 calm — steadfast in friendship — constant in
 
 206 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 love ; but loving few ; and, being a lady, I 
 will use the word persistent, ratber than a 
 harsher term." 
 
 " You odd being ! — now, Gertrude ? " 
 
 " Oh ! she's only a chick — not quite out of 
 the shell." 
 
 " No — no ! no shirking ; let's have it ! " 
 
 " Well, then, she's worth the whole 
 boiling," he said, giving Firefly a touch, 
 which sent them, with one bound, through 
 the lodge gates into the drive. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure, Prescott ! you don't 
 mean you're touched ! " exclaimed the 
 Duke. 
 
 " My dear fellow, have I not already 
 disclosed my intention of disputing the 
 possession, of Miss Ashleigh with the foul 
 fiend melancholy ? " 
 
 '' Pooh ! — pooh ! — not in your line, my 
 boy ! but here we are ; and, I think we may 
 congratulate ourselves, safe and sound, Fire-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 207 
 
 ily's temper being none of the best to-night.'' 
 
 " Have you been frightened ? " 
 
 " Yes, awfully," said the Duke laughing. 
 
 " Take care of her, William," said Pres- 
 €ott, as he tossed the reins to the groom ; 
 *' she's fretted, and pulled the whole way. 
 She's in a frightful lather. Everyone's in 
 bed, I suppose ? " 
 
 *' Yes, sir," said the old butler, who always 
 sat up for his young master ; " will you take 
 anything, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a bed-candle for me. Will you do 
 anything in the soda-and-brandy or claret 
 way, Duke ? " 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, thank you." 
 
 " Good-night ; sweet dreams attend thy 
 sleeping." 
 
 " Thanks — ditto ; " and so they sepa- 
 rated. 
 
 When Grace and Everard arrived at home, 
 the door was answered by Dolly, who, putting
 
 208 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 up a warning finger, motioned them into 
 the dining-room. 
 
 " He's come home — about an hour ago." 
 "Oh! DoUy, what shall we do?" said 
 Grace, clasping her hands together — her 
 white face whiter than ever. 
 
 " Now, don't go worreting yourself — • 
 I've settled it all. I got him to bed ; and 
 all the servants are frightened to death. 
 They won't go near that side of the house, 
 the noises have been awful — and the 
 blue lights — and I told them how I'd seen 
 the lady in the black cloak walk through 
 the door at the end of the gallery, so 
 they've all hustled off to bed, and only 
 Canham and I are up. I have had a 
 day with them," she said, with a little 
 low laugh. " But now, dearie, you get 
 away quick, and nobody will meddle with 
 you. rU call you in the morning in good 
 time, dear. Whatever should we have done
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 209 
 
 if that old fellow hadn t murdered the other, 
 and given this house such a bad name? 
 Here's your candle, Mr. Everard. Have jou 
 had a pleasant evening?" 
 
 " Yes — very. What induced my father to 
 come home, Dolly ? Did he say?" 
 
 "No ; he was so sweet, bless you! butter 
 would not melt in his mouth. He said, ' I 
 suppose you didnt expect me so soon, 
 Dolly; the young people are not yet home, 
 of course.' He does them things on pur- 
 pose, you know, to catch us out. He's so 
 suspicious — he thinks we're always taking 
 him in as he takes in others." 
 
 Everard sighed; and, with a kindly good 
 night to Dolly, he went upstairs, followed by 
 Grace. On the landing he turned and kissed 
 her, and then said, in a low voice : 
 
 " One more for her" I will see her some- 
 how in the morning. Of course, she will not 
 
 go before dusk to-morrow ? " 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " No ; unless she thinks the early dawn 
 safer." 
 
 "Well, then, I shall not see her again. 
 Can I come now?" he added. 
 
 " Better not, I think, dear. She gets so 
 excited, she will not sleep." 
 
 " It is too vexatious his coming home; he 
 must suspect." 
 
 " Oh ! do not say so ; or I shall wish more 
 than ever I was dead, Everard, with this one 
 brief gleam of happiness denied me." 
 
 "Well, love, we will not anticipate evil; 
 only, be very careful." 
 
 " Wish me good night, dear." 
 
 " Good night, poor little white face. We are 
 heavily weighted, little darling ; but it is not 
 more than we can bear — that we are sure, or 
 it would not be sent." 
 
 She made no answer; her heart was full, 
 and brimmed over at her weary eyes. 
 
 '*God bless you, both!" he said, and he
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 211 
 
 went into his room and she into hers. 
 
 Shortly after, a figure, in white from head 
 
 to foot, glided with silent foot-fall through 
 
 the moonlit gallery, along the hall, and, 
 
 entering noiselessly the uninhabited wing, 
 
 sped swiftly up the old oak staircase, and 
 
 opened gently a door, which gave admission 
 
 to a large room, in which stood a bedstead 
 
 jof carved oak, with hangings of tapestry — 
 
 faded and moth-eaten — panelled oak walls, 
 
 and oaken furniture, with a large casement 
 
 window, through which the moonlight 
 
 streamed (for the heavy tapestry curtains 
 
 had not been drawn across it), with its soft 
 
 radiant light putting to shame the small 
 
 night-lamp, which burnt on a little table 
 
 near the bed. On the dressing-table stood a 
 
 vase of beautiful fresh -gathered flowers, and 
 
 a pair of modern candlesticks, with wax 
 
 candles in them, some velvet slippers, and a 
 
 blue cashmere dressing-gown on a chair — - 
 
 p2
 
 212 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 giving alone the evidence of some fresh 
 arrival in the dreary, ghostly room, and 
 somewhat brightening its appearance. The 
 white figure, throwing the covering from its 
 head, closed and locked the door, and going 
 softly to the bed, surveyed with a look of in- 
 tense love and interest its sleeping occupant. 
 The holiness which this intense love gave to 
 the white face and her white garments 
 mi2:ht have induced an observer to think 
 some pure denizen of another world was 
 watching the slumberer. It was a woman — 
 'beautiful exceedingly'; but with an ex- 
 pression which made her yet more like 
 the " Lady of the Lea," for it spoke of a 
 haughtiness which nothing could subdue — 
 a determination which nothing could sur- 
 mount. 
 
 Presently the sleeper stirred, and threw 
 one fair, white arm over her head ; and then, 
 opening her large, dark eyes, she sprung up
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 213 
 
 and exclaimed, with a thrill of joy in her 
 voice : 
 
 " My darling ! my Gracie ! I am so 
 glad." 
 
 "Hush! sweet mother; do not rouse 
 yourself. I am coming to lie down beside 
 you until four o'clock. Dolly will come 
 then; and oh! my precious!" she con- 
 tinued, taking the beautiful head, and 
 folding it to her bosom as a mother would 
 cherish a child, ''you must go then, or 
 at dusk to-morrow — for he has come 
 back." 
 
 A look of dread and horror crossed the 
 mother's face, and she said : 
 
 " Oh ! my Gracie, at dawn — at dawn ; I 
 would not risk the horrors of a whole day.' 
 
 "Well, then, be still ; here — darling 
 Everard sends you this ; " and, pressing a 
 long kiss on her lips, she knelt down beside 
 her, as she fell back on her pillow, and mur-
 
 214 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 mured lovingly, " let me stay so, and rub 
 your dear hands till you sleep, and then I 
 will lie down." 
 
 A smile of inefiable love and tenderness 
 parted the mother s lips, and she answered : 
 
 ''It is too sweet to deny you, my own 
 child ; " and so they rested till the day 
 dawned. 
 
 The light sleep into which Grace had fallen 
 was readily disturbed by a gentle tap at the 
 door, which she opened, and admitted Dolly. 
 
 " Now, my dear, we've no time to lose ; 
 is she awake ? " 
 
 " No — ah ! yes, she is. Mother, sweet, 
 you must go," said Grace ; and the tears, as 
 she spoke, filled her eyes, and trembled in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Let her take her coffee before she rises. 
 Miss Grace." 
 
 " No — no ; nothing, Dolly ; it is so light, 
 it must be late ; let me go quickly."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 215 
 
 " You're quite safe, ma am, I assure you ; 
 no one will stir yet ; and you draw the hood 
 of your cloak well over your head, and go 
 out at the door in this wing, and there's not 
 a soul belonging to the village that will 
 not fly at the sight of you, if there be any 
 about." 
 
 " I shall hope to see you, my child, next 
 week ; your aunt Clarinda is going to ask 
 him to let you stay a day or two with 
 her." 
 
 *' Oh, mother dear ! but he will not let me 
 come?" 
 
 " Yes — yes ; I think she can manage it. 
 Walter has told her what to say. How well 
 my boy looks, Gracie ; and dear Everard — 
 better than usual, I think. Walter has been 
 three times to see me. Everard will bring 
 you to me, love, and I shall see him then ; 
 tell him this, with my dear love. Be brave, 
 my child. We shall meet again soon; and
 
 216 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 some day, my little white dove, we shall 
 be together, never to part." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! for that day, God only 
 knows how I long." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Grace — Miss Grace — I shall 
 have to carry you away in a moment," said 
 Dolly, who had been helping her mistress' 
 hurried toilet ; '' that kind of talk is not 
 allowed." 
 
 " Poor child ! it is little wonder, Dolly ; 
 now for my cloak, quick ! " 
 
 " Yes, here it is ; I'm coming with you, 
 you know. I'll see her safe to the inn, 
 miss," she said to Grace ; " now please run 
 back to your room ; I've locked the door 
 ~ — here's the keys." 
 
 '' Dolly," said Grace, after her long, cling- 
 ing embrace of her mother, with the tears 
 streaming down her face, " have you ever 
 thought what to say, if you are caught out 
 at this unusual hour ? "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 217 
 
 " Oh ! bless you ! no, my dear ; I never 
 trouble my head about what I'm going to 
 €ay, till I've got to say it. I shall just put 
 my dear mistress into the inn, and be back 
 in no time ; my bedroom door's locked, and 
 I'm fast asleep, you know — come along ! " 
 
 Silently and swiftly the two went down 
 the old staircase, and out at the door of the 
 unused wing of the house, across the orchard 
 and out into the high road ; then Mrs. Ash- 
 leigh took off the cloak in which she had 
 been enveloped from head to foot ; Dolly 
 folded it into a small leathern bag, and they 
 proceeded on their way. Arrived at the 
 Station Inn, Mrs. Ashleigh asked for a 
 private sitting-room until the first morning 
 train ; and after receiving her mistress' 
 promise that she would have a proper break- 
 fast before she went, Dolly went home again 
 as fast as she could, meeting no one by the 
 way, but some farm men going to work, who
 
 218 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 only said, " Out early, miss ; " to which she 
 answered, laughing : 
 
 *' Yes, I like to get my walks over before 
 it's too hot ; " and letting herself in by the 
 same door, she gained her own room without 
 interruption.
 
 A MINGLED YAHN. 219 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 The young ladies had anxiously awaited 
 the arrival of Dr. Stillwell to inquire all 
 the particulars of poor old Poyntz, and 
 Gertrude assailed him with more questions 
 than he could answer ; but Lilian, coming 
 to his aid, said : 
 
 " Tell us all about it, Doctor, in your own 
 way." 
 
 And so he said that he had had no trouble 
 in getting the poor old man home — he was 
 always tractable with him ; and that he 
 had soon fallen into a deep sleep, from which 
 he awoke refreshed and quite sensible. He 
 said he had had uneasy dreams ; that he had 
 dreamed he walked a long way to see a son
 
 220 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 who had been dead a long, long while ; and 
 that he had better give up the place of school- 
 master — it was too much for him. The Rector, 
 he said, had been to see him, and had ar- 
 ranged to let him go at once, as he seemed 
 so set on it. He had chosen to betake him- 
 self to a little village in the Surrey Highlands, 
 where, he said, he had friends ; " and I," con- 
 tinued the Doctor, " am going to ask Miss 
 Medlicott's leave to take him — he is quite 
 unfit to travel alone. Do you think you can 
 spare me, Lady Gertrude ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Doctor ; and I think a change 
 will do you good ; a week or two in that 
 beautiful air will be charming for you." 
 
 " For shame, Gertrude," said Lilian, and yet 
 she could not help smiling ; '' the Doctor does 
 not want to be away so long ; you have done 
 hardly any work all the summer." 
 
 " Doctor, hear her ! " exclaimed Gertrude, 
 " have I not written one of the most elegant
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 221 
 
 essays, of this or any other time, on the 
 advantages of steam ? have I not written an 
 account of the Stuarts, which would shame 
 Macaulay ? put twelve stanzas of Childe 
 Harold into elegant prose ? and, oh ! in 
 short, done, in this brief summer, more 
 work than Lilian ever dreamed of 
 doing." 
 
 " Lady Gertrude has one useful quality. 
 Lady Lilian," said the Doctor ; " she works 
 very fast when she does work ; and, by the 
 aid of a wonderful memory, she manages to 
 make a good show, without a very large 
 amount of exertion." 
 
 " Now you've spoilt it all," said Gertrude, 
 *' and I shall be as stupid as an owl this 
 morning — I know I shall." 
 
 " Well, let us try," said the Doctor, kindly, 
 as Lilian left the room, and the tutor and 
 his pupil alone. 
 
 " No, Lm not nearly ready yet ; I want to
 
 222 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 know when old Poyntz is going ? and who is 
 coming in his stead ? " 
 
 " He is going to-morrow; but who is com- 
 ing in his stead, I cannot tell you. Come, my 
 dear young lady, it is so late. Did you 
 master the sum I left you yesterday ? " 
 
 " No — of course I did not ; I told you it 
 was simply impossible ; I tried dreadfully hard, 
 and then I took to the arts, and made this 
 pretty little sketch for you ; " and she handed 
 him the paper on which her sum was, with 
 a certainly very clever sketch of Nep and the 
 kitten^ — the kitten raising one paw, and re- 
 senting, in cat-like fashion, the intrusion of 
 Nep's tail in her face. 
 
 ''Dear — dear ! " said the Doctor, trying to 
 suppress his laughter ; "this is sad waste of 
 time, you know ; really, this sum could have 
 been done by a child of ten." 
 
 " Oh, Doctor ! then I suppose we arrive at 
 fifteen at a foggy state of intellect ; for, I
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 223 
 
 a^ssure you, the more I tried the more dense 
 I became ; and if you only knew lioiv I hate 
 those men with their buckets of water, and 
 their ridiculous determination to empty a 
 pond in twelve hours. Why must one do 
 sums? I see no earthly reason why we 
 should." 
 
 "My dear lady, all knowledge has its 
 use ; the mind unfed would starve, as the 
 body would, and " 
 
 " Do you think poor old Poyntz will die. 
 Doctor ? I think it would serve him right, 
 for frightening us so ; did you punish the 
 small boy for letting him go ? " 
 
 " No — no; now look, will you ? you must 
 first get the number of gallons the buckets 
 contain, and then " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but do let's rub this sum out, 
 and have another — I am so tired of it. I feel 
 inclined to kick the bucket," she said, slyly 
 glancing up in the Doctor s face.
 
 224 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "Oh, my lady ! — my lady ! " said the Doctor, 
 gravely shaking his head ; but Gertrude 
 sprung from her seat, and, kneeling down 
 beside him, took from his hands the pencil he 
 was going to use, and said : 
 
 "Now, you nice, dear, kind, good Doctor, a 
 little conversation will really do me so much 
 more good than horrid sums. We will talk 
 in Johnsonian language. Keally, I will be 
 most careful how I round my sentences. 
 Now, listen — My dear Dr. Stillwell, if I do 
 not trespass too much on your valuable time, 
 I would venture to ask for a little informa- 
 tion on a subject which has excited a warm 
 interest in the minds of my sisters, and my 
 own — no, no, that's bad ; in my sisters' 
 minds, and my own — that is better. I am 
 referring to a young person who resides in a 
 farm in the meadows kept by one Broderip. 
 Who is the beautiful and interesting 
 maiden?"
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 225 
 
 " My dear Lady Gertrude '' 
 
 '* Yes, go on ; that will do for a begin- 
 ning ; who is she ? " 
 
 " I cannot really permit this." 
 
 " Oh ! that won't do at all. No ; now 
 really do tell me who that girl is, and I will 
 be as good as sugar." 
 
 " I really only know that her name is 
 Kathleen O'Brian, and that she is grand- 
 child to the old people. There ! now go to 
 work." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! is that all you can tell me ? " 
 
 ** Every word, indeed ; now, if you 
 really do not feel inclined for figures to- 
 day, get ' Macaulay," and we will read a 
 little." 
 
 With a mock face of despair, Gertrude rose 
 and took the book from the shelf, and with 
 many annotations and remarks, not to be 
 found in the printed edition, she read several 
 pages of the history; and then, declaring it 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 made her chest ache, and she had heaps of 
 work to do for Ma'mselle, she persuaded the 
 Doctor to release her. 
 
 After luncheon, the girls had arranged to 
 take a long walk to a wood, to seek for a 
 Green Man orchis, which they had been 
 told grew there in abundance, and had just 
 ordered the trowel and basket to be got 
 ready for their expedition, when the loud 
 barking of Nep and ringing of the door-bell 
 proclaimed a visitor. 
 
 "Oh! who can that be? what a bore," 
 said Edith. 
 
 "It need not stop you, my dears," said 
 Mistress Medlicott. " I can go to them." 
 
 " The Duke of Claverton," answered the 
 servant. 
 
 " The Duke! dear me ! His grace is follow- 
 ing an old fashion in calling so soon after 
 the party," said Mistress Medlicott. " He 
 is anxious to know if you have sustained any
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 227 
 
 ill effects from your fright, May ; " but 
 May was gone. 
 
 " Come, girls, and just speak to him, and 
 then you can go," said Auntie. 
 
 He came forward to meet them as they 
 •entered, in his bright, eager way ; and, 
 when he heard they were starting on an 
 expedition, he begged to be allowed to join 
 it ; there was nothing he liked so much in 
 the world as a wild flower hunt. Might he 
 order his man to take the horses round to the 
 stables? for, of course, they were going to 
 walk — it was not at all too hot, with such a 
 lovely breeze. 
 
 And so they set out — all the young, merry 
 
 party — with good Ma mselle to take charge 
 
 of them ; and, arrived in the cool, deep 
 
 shelter of the wood, they voted that rest was 
 
 most desirable before any search was made 
 
 for the orchis ; and, finding a pleasant spot, 
 
 where some felled trees lay — the faithful ivy 
 
 q2
 
 228 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 clinging still about them — they seated them- 
 selves there, Gertrude making a pillow of 
 Nep, who had followed them, and who very 
 contentedly submitted to make himself thus 
 useful to his mistress. 
 
 Through the trees came aslant the long 
 lines of the summer sun, and the birds sang 
 and chirped and flitted from bough to bough, 
 and a bee, heavily laden with the spoil from 
 the sweet blossoms he had rifled, buzzed past 
 them ; and the noise of children in tlie 
 meadows at play, the tinkle of a sheep-bell, 
 and the rumble of a waggon in the distance, 
 winding slowly along the high road, were 
 the sort of dreamy sounds that alone gave 
 evidence aught lived on earth but them- 
 selves. 
 
 Somewhat tired with their walk, and im- 
 pressed by the exquisite repose, their merry 
 tongues were silent awhile ; and then, 
 Gertrude, growing tired first of quiet and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 229 
 
 silence, jumped up to go on their search, 
 followed readily by Lilian, Edith, and 
 Ma'mselle — more leisurely by May and the 
 Duke. The brambles kept catching May's 
 dress, and the lace on her hat, so that their 
 progress was so slow that the others were 
 out of sight, and only Gertrude's ringing 
 laughter could be occasionally heard. They 
 had suddenly become very silent ; beyond 
 May's "thank you" for the trouble his Grace 
 took to disentangle her dress and lace, 
 nothing had been said by either of them. 
 May could not imagine why the Duke was 
 so silent, and wished he would say some- 
 tning — anything — it was so awkward ; and 
 yet she could not speak herself ; every 
 subject she endeavoured to begin died on 
 her lips. At length, with a great effort, 
 she said : 
 
 " I don't see the orchis, do you ? " 
 
 ''The orchis? no; certainly not in the
 
 230 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 least. Let us go this way," lie said,, 
 suddenly turning in the opposite direction to 
 which the others had gone. " I think we 
 shall be sure to find it, and how charming it 
 will be if we get it before the others. What 
 is it like ? " he continued, peeping amongst 
 the brushwood and plume-like ferns on 
 either side the narrow pathway — so narrow 
 that they could no longer walk side by side. 
 May murmured some reply, and he sprang 
 on in advance some paces; then, turning 
 back, he said : 
 
 " Do you mind scrambling a little — just 
 on here ; I see such a lovely spot ? " 
 
 No ; she did not mind. 
 
 *' Let me take your hand, and help you." 
 
 Very simple words — why did they make 
 May tremble, and feel as though she had no 
 breath left ? Silence again, and more en- 
 tanglements of lace and dress, and they are 
 standing in a space where fir trees have made
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 231 
 
 a thick shelter from the sun, and a carpet 
 with the scented branches and cones which 
 have fallen. They hear no sound now, "save 
 the carol of the song-birds in the trees." And 
 again they both are silent. Oh ! what would 
 May give to be able to speak ? but she feels 
 tongue-tied. Yet she is the first to make an 
 effort to break the oppressive silence. He 
 stands turning over the dry leaves with his 
 riding-whip. 
 
 " Won't they wonder where we are ? I 
 think we had better find them," she says. 
 
 " One moment ; it — it is so lovely here, 
 and you are tired ; sit down." 
 
 " Oh, no ! we must go," she said, and 
 moved a step or two on ; but he caught her 
 hand, and she heard a voice as if in a dream 
 murmur softly : " If I dared hope that words 
 of mine could make you wish to stay. May ; 
 it is so hard to speak much when one feels 
 much — May ! — May ! " Nearer — nearer
 
 232 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 came the sound ; the hand was prisoned in 
 both of his now ; and, as again the low voice 
 repeated with sweet monotony the name which 
 was music to him who spoke it, and to her 
 who heard it uttered with such tenderness, 
 the crackling of branches startled them ; and, 
 springing through the bushes, with her 
 beautiful hair hanging loose about her face, 
 and her hat in her hand, Gertrude stood 
 before them. 
 
 " Oh ! — I beg — I mean, here you are," she 
 said, blushing and laughing. " I sprang in 
 here to hide from the others ; don't tell you 
 saw me ; they're close behind ; " and she 
 flew away and disappeared as quickly as she 
 came. 
 
 The hand, which had been dropped, was 
 seized again, and, in an eager whisper, he 
 said : " You know what I mean ; say, ' Yes, 
 Philip '—do." 
 
 ''Yes, Philip!" Only the lips moved;
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 233 
 
 but he was watching the blushing face as 
 though his life hung on the answer, and he 
 read the words upon her lips. He was 
 busy hunting amongst the dead leaves, and 
 she had rushed away into another part, 
 when the rest of the party appeared. 
 
 In "Auntie's" room, sits "Auntie'' her- 
 self — her hands on May's head, who is 
 kneeling before her. The happy tale has 
 been told. 
 
 " I am very pleased, my child ; had I 
 chosen for you myself, I could not have been 
 better pleased. He is a true gentleman — 
 upright, single-hearted, affectionate, and 
 with a merry, happy temperament, which 
 would make any home bright — even a less 
 costly one than he will take my bird to. We 
 shall all miss you, dearie ; but we shall look 
 at it in the best light, and remember it 
 is only having another home, in which we 
 shall all be always welcome, shall we not ? "
 
 234 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 ** Oh, Auntie — mother ! can you doubt 
 it ? " answered May, flinging her arms round 
 Mistress Medlicott's neck, and kissing her 
 passionately; "but I'm half-frightened now, 
 and almost wish I had said, ' No.' He 
 will never love me and bear me, with all 
 my petulance, as you have all done, will 
 he, Auntie ? " 
 
 " My child ! what has made us bear with 
 you ? — Because we loved you, and you 
 loved us. There is no being so perfect but 
 some little faults can be found by those they 
 live with — no home so bright but has its 
 shadows ; but love can teach forbearance with 
 the faults, and make the shadows only causa 
 the brightness to be more radiant." 
 
 " I feel to want so much love. Auntie — 
 and to deserve so little. And he is so good 
 — so sweet-tempered — oh ! too good for me^ 
 altogether." 
 
 " Never mind, if he does not think so,"
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 235 
 
 said Auntie smiling, and patting the girl's 
 burning cheek ; "there is no sign of future 
 happiness greater than that each should deem 
 the other ' too good ' during this first fever. 
 When the delirium is past, you will shake 
 down into rational beings, seeing and know- 
 ing each other — as you really are — full of 
 human faults and weaknesses ; but, feeling 
 that the faults, even, are better than other 
 peoples' virtues, and that those imperfec- 
 tions which strangers may condemn will be 
 sweet to you, because they mark the iden- 
 tity, as it were, of the being that is dearer 
 and better to you than any on earth — that 
 is true love, as I see it, my May; and God 
 grant you may feel and possess it, hence- 
 forth and for ever — I say ' for ever,' " she 
 said, with more solemnity, '' because such 
 love lives beyond the grave. Now, I will go 
 down to him; and shall I warn him what a 
 troublesome task he has undertaken — what a
 
 236 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 naughty, wilful, petulant, little wife lie will 
 liave ? " 
 
 "He wont believe you," May answered, 
 laughing, with the tears in her eyes. 
 
 " I fear not ; I should only be wasting time 
 and breath." 
 
 In the library he stood, awaiting the ver- 
 dict. He sprang forward when the door 
 opened to admit the gentle little lady. She 
 held out her hand to him, with a smile that 
 spoke more than words, and, bending down, 
 he kissed it, and said : " Dear Auntie now 
 —is it ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed ; and I am quite satisfied 
 with my new nephew." 
 
 " I hope I have not been too hasty ; but 
 since I first saw Lady May," he said, leading 
 Mistress Medlicott to a chair, " I have felt 
 she must be my wife ; and I made up my 
 mind on this visit to Oakdean to see if I 
 had any chance. Straws that only a lover
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 237 
 
 would snatch at made me believe I was not 
 indifferent, and to-day I determined to decide 
 my fate. Oh ! dear Mistress Medlicott, Fm 
 awfully happy — upon my word." 
 
 " Long may you remain so ; and I think 
 you have an excellent prospect. When do 
 you leave Oakdean ? " 
 
 " On Monday ; but as there is no reason 
 for delay, I may come soon and claim my 
 wife, may I not ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't know; I think there's 
 much sense in the saying that it is well to 
 see your betrothed in all the seasons," 
 answered the old lady, smiling ; " May is 
 very young ; I think this time twelvemonth." 
 
 " Oh, Mistress Medlicott ! a twelvemonth 
 — an eternity!" 
 
 " There is no going by love's chronology ; 
 * hours are moments — moments hours,' as 
 best suits the tyrant," she answered ; " but 
 let us, at any rate, say so ; and we will see,
 
 238 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 as time goes on, whether it will be better to 
 shorten the probation." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! — well, I must content myself, 
 I suppose ; but, never mind — it must be a very 
 bright time ; and I may come and see her 
 very often, may I not ? '' he said, drawing his 
 chair close to Mistress Medlicott. "I may 
 come to-morrow to dinner; and you will bring 
 her to town in the season, and I can go to balls 
 with her, and dance with her — my own little 
 angel ! — and enjoy all the agony of the men, 
 who will be ready to kill me. I shall expect 
 pistols and daggers at every street corner. 
 Oh, yes ! it will be delightful ; " and he tossed 
 back the long hair from his radiant face, and 
 jumped out of his chair, walking about the 
 room, rubbing his hands ; and then, coming 
 back to his seat, he said : " I may see her again 
 before I go ? — which, I suppose, I must — 
 now, those absurd people at Oakdean will 
 want their dinner."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 239 
 
 " Yes ! I doubt if your happiness will 
 have taken away their appetite," said Mistress 
 Medlicott, laughing. " I will send the little 
 maiden to bid you good-bye ; and to-morrow 
 we shall hope to see you when we re absurd 
 enough to dine." 
 
 He laughed himself as he opened the 
 door for her, and said : " Tell her to make 
 haste." 
 
 She was not long before she came ; and, 
 when the lingering adieu was over, she went 
 back to her sisters with the look of a strange 
 happiness in her face, and a half-fearful 
 sense of a strange joy in her heart. She wore 
 on her finger a ring, formed of one large 
 turquoise, which had just changed owners. 
 
 " But it is only till he gets another," she 
 explained to Gertrude, whose quick eye had 
 caught the new ring at once ; and whose 
 delight, at this event in the family, was un- 
 controllable.
 
 240 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 " Oh ! May, dear, do tell us what he said ; 
 how I should like to know." 
 
 " Gertrude ! do not be so silly, dear," re- 
 buked Lilian. 
 
 "Yes — -just as if May would," said Edith ; 
 " but if she were to ask me such a question, 
 I would tell her something." 
 
 " Perhaps I never shall ask you, Edith, 
 dear ; you may never know what is said 
 under such circumstances." 
 
 " Don't be pert. Miss," said Edith ; " but, 
 now, do tell us one thing, May — is it settled 
 when it's to be ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, Edith — of course not ; we have 
 not realised our engagement yet, at least I 
 have not ; I feel in a dream ; I wish it was 
 bed-time, instead of dinner-time ; I am sure 
 I cannot eat any." 
 
 " Pretty Duchess ! " said Gertrude, kissing 
 her ; "I don't wonder ; I am sure I should 
 not be able to eat under the circumstances.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 241 
 
 Oh, dear! it is delightful; I must dance;" 
 and seizing Edith round the waist, she per- 
 formed a wild galop round the room, unheed- 
 ing the remonstrance of her sisters. 
 
 Of course, little else could be thought of or 
 talked of that night ; and May was glad to 
 make a short evening of it, and get away to 
 the sanctuary of her room, and live over 
 again the happy moments beneath the fir 
 trees. 
 
 VOL I. R
 
 242 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 **Have you any objection to my going to 
 the station, papa, to meet Walter, this even- 
 ing ? " asked Grace at breakfast time. 
 
 " None in the least, my love — of course not. 
 When is Kupert Carrington coming down 
 again i 
 
 ** I don't know, papa ; he said soon." 
 " Well, next time he comes, do be a little 
 more cordial to him ; you know my poor little 
 girl must not be left in maiden solitude with 
 only her poor old father, and Rupert would 
 make a capital husband. You see, my dear, 
 life is uncertain ; we must all of us live 
 in expectation of our great change ; and 
 when, in the common course of events, 
 I am taken from you, you will have but a
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 243 
 
 small income ; Everard is my heir, and then 
 there's Walter ; so, my child, it is well to 
 look out to establish yourself/' 
 
 " Dear papa, please don't talk like that ; 
 I shall never marry." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! we shall see ; but any way 
 oblige me by a brighter and more courteous 
 manner when next our friend comes." 
 
 Grace made no answer ; argument, she 
 knew too well, was fruitless ; and the news- 
 paper arriving at the moment, put a stop to 
 further conversation. 
 
 Walter had much to tell her, on their short 
 walk from the station, of his visit to his 
 mother, and the arrangements he had made 
 with his aunt to invite Grace. 
 
 "You know, I believe, she is the one 
 person in the world my father fears, Grace ; 
 she is acquainted with his early history ; 
 und I often doubt the means by which his 
 large wealth was accumulated. Aunt Cla- 
 
 It ^
 
 244 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 rinda has evidently some strong hold on him ; 
 and I have frequently heard her reproach 
 poor mother, and say : ' You know, Eleanor, 
 how I warned you of him ; you have no 
 one but yourself to thank/ " 
 
 " Poor mother ! fancy his coming back 
 when I had got her in the house." 
 
 " Yes ; sometimes I think he suspects." 
 
 " That is what Everard says — what should 
 we do if he found us out ? " 
 
 " Well, we should have to invent some 
 plan — for see her we will ! " 
 
 They had reached the Priory, and were 
 walking uj) the lawn, as Walter said this ; 
 they had heard no footsteps, yet their father s 
 voice behind them, said : 
 
 " Ah, Walter ! got back — what is the ex- 
 citing subject of conversation ? " 
 
 "Oh! nothing particular. Have you 
 heard about your friend. Major Carrington, 
 sir ? he is dangerously ill ! "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 245 
 
 " No ! is he really ; poor old man. Alas ! 
 we must all have our turn. Hark I there is 
 the dressing gong — go in, I am only going 
 to speak to Wallcott ; " and he moved off 
 in the opposite direction. Grace turned a 
 hopeless look to her brother : 
 
 "Walter! he heard ?'^ 
 
 "I fear he did, Grace ; but do not worry 
 yourself, I will think of some other way, and 
 you can manage it when you go to town — if 
 he will let you," he thought, as he went up 
 to his own room; "but Fm much mistaken 
 if a storm is not brewing." 
 
 Sunday passed without any marked 
 event ; the usual routine of church going, 
 and a stroll in the grounds, and dinner, 
 and music, during which Mr. x^shleigh, to 
 the young people's joy, went to his room, 
 to write letters, he said ; and then Grace and 
 her brothers drew their chairs together for a 
 long chat.
 
 246 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 It had been very close and oppressive all 
 day ; and now over the moon came rolling^ 
 heavy lurid clouds, and low down in the hori- 
 zon flashed every now and then a gleam of 
 light — the reflection of the storm far off, but 
 which was evidently travelling up. Grace was 
 so alarmed at the storms, that her brothers 
 always sat uj) with her until they ceased ; 
 and Walter, noticing the threatening state of 
 the weather, had proposed that they should 
 take the opportunity of discussing what was 
 best to be done in case their mother s visit 
 had been discovered. While they talked, 
 the night grew darker ; and the low 
 muttering of the thunder made poor 
 Grace tremble, and draw nearer to 
 Walter. 
 
 " Shut up the windows, Walter," she said. 
 
 " Shall we ? — but that old man delights 
 in watching the storm," he answered. 
 
 *' Oh, never mind ! If Gracie prefers to
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 247 
 
 shut it out, do SO by all means ; but it is so 
 grand, dear." 
 
 " So awful, Everard.'' 
 
 *' That was a good one," said Walter, as 
 he closed the last shutter, and one vivid 
 flash lighted up the sky. 
 
 " Superb," said Everard ; '' a thunder- 
 storm to me is like a grand fugue played on 
 a military band. Hark ! there go the drums. 
 Glorious!" he said, as the thunder rolled 
 round the house. 
 
 " Oh ! Everard, to look at you almost 
 makes me cease to be afraid," said Grace, 
 looking up in his face. 
 
 " I wish you could quite, little sister; 
 for it is very miserable to be frightened, I 
 should think." 
 
 "Very; and I am afraid of so many things 
 — you of nothing. Come back, Walter, and sit 
 away from the window, and the steel fire-place 
 — the middle of the room is the safest place."
 
 248 A MINGLED YARK 
 
 " My dear Grace," said Walter, laughing, 
 " do not be such a little goose. We are as 
 safe in ene place as another. Every bullet 
 bullet has its billet,' and will find us out, 
 hide where we will. Let us go on talking, 
 and forget the storm." 
 
 But it was easier said then done ; for, 
 though the sight of the lightning was shut 
 out, still the heavy peals of thunder, and 
 plashing of the rain, spoke of the fury with 
 which it raged, and Grace could not keep 
 her thoughts from it. 
 
 Presently the drawing-room door opened 
 a little way, and Dolly looked in. 
 
 *^ May I come in?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Dolly ; we shall be glad of 
 your company," said Walter. "Come and 
 tell us a story ; Missie is most awfully 
 alarmed." 
 
 " I'm come to tell you something rather 
 strange. I've frightened others till the tables
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 249 
 
 are turned/' she said, coming in and closing 
 the door behind her ; " there is someone in 
 the old wing — at least, something — and a 
 light in the room." 
 
 "Nonsense, Dolly; my father — prowling 
 about." 
 
 "Your father never goes there, Mr. Walter; 
 and, more than that, I have the keys. You 
 know he gave them to me when we first 
 came, and said, * Keep these rooms locked, 
 Dolly ; I can have the keys when I want 
 them, but I would rather no one else had. 
 The foolish people have an idle tale of ghosts 
 about that wing ; and so, keep it locked 
 up' — and you know I have diligently," 
 she said with a merry twinkle in her eye. 
 
 " But, Dolly dear," said Grace, " arc you 
 not joking? You do not mean you yourself 
 have seen lights in the rooms." 
 
 " I have, really. Two of the girls came in 
 just before the storm began ; and, looking as
 
 250 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 white as sheets, begged me to come in the 
 orchard and see the lights. When I got there 
 I fancied I did see a ghmmer, but too faint 
 to be quite sure about; but when Patty and 
 Maggie went up to their rooms afterwards, 
 both together (for they were afraid to go 
 alone), they shrieked like wild cats, and flew 
 down again, for they declared they had seen 
 a figure in a cloak go through the door. Of 
 course, it was my game to keep up the terror; 
 but I thought I'd better see about it my- 
 self — so I took the keys and went ofi", quietly 
 telling them I should come and ask Mr. 
 Everard about it. I put the key in the 
 door — I own I did not feel right down 
 comfortable — and there, sure enough, was a 
 figure in the corner holding a lantern or 
 something — I can't say what — for I pretty 
 soon slammed the door and locked it, so 
 whoever it is must get out as he came in, 
 whichever way that was."
 
 A MINGLED YAKN. 251 
 
 *'It must be my father, Dolly," said 
 Walter ; *^ he suspects us, I am sure." 
 
 " But, my dear, I went to his room only a 
 minute or two before. It was locked ; and he 
 said he'd ring when he wanted anything ; 
 besides, here are the keys," she said, holding 
 up two large keys on a ring. 
 
 '' That is odd," said Everard ; " let us go 
 and see into it, Walter. Dolly, you stay 
 with Miss Grace ;" for, as another peal of 
 thunder shook the house, Grace, with a cry, 
 seized Walter's arm. 
 
 *'0h, yes! I'll stay with Missie; but, sup- 
 pose it is his lordship, and he sees you spy- 
 ing after him, and going into the wing 
 which he strictly forbid me to open, there'U 
 be a nice kettle of hot water for all of us." 
 
 " And suppose it is not him, and some 
 evil-disposed person preying on our fears," 
 said Grace. ''You may both be murdered ; 
 oh ! don't go."
 
 252 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 "Any evil-disposed person will be more 
 frightened at us than we of them, dear," 
 said Everard. " Eest here with Dolly, 
 while Ave go and lay this ghost." They 
 opened the door with this intention, and en- 
 countered outside the butler and two or 
 three maids. 
 
 " Oh ! please, sir- " they all began. 
 
 " One at a time," said Walter, quietly ; 
 "what's the matter now ? " 
 
 " Some one keeps thumping at the back 
 door, sir," explained the butler, " and implor- 
 ing to be let in ; but, with this unpleasant 
 occurrence in the west wing, I did not like 
 to open the door without your permission, or 
 master's, and he is asleep, I think, sir, for 
 I've knocked four times. These foohsh 
 maids will not let me move without them — 
 what with the storm and all, sir." As he 
 spoke, a flash of lightning brightened every 
 corner of the hall; and the peal following as
 
 A MINGLED YARX. 25 S 
 
 quickly, with a. deafening roar, seemed to 
 threaten destruction to the buildincr. 
 
 " In pity keep no one out in such a night 
 as this, man," said AValter ; " thieves do not 
 knock for admittance ; let them in instantly. 
 If you're afraid," he said, with a light laugh, 
 "Til come with you;" and, followed by 
 Everard and all the servants, save Dolly, 
 who remained in the drawing-room with the 
 half fainting Grace, Walter went to the door 
 and opened it, as another flash, even more 
 vivid than the last, seemed to rend the 
 heavens, and a man staggered into the 
 welcome shelter, Ijearing the slender form of 
 a girl in his arms. 
 
 "I do not know if she is dead ; oh ! in 
 mercy, see," he said. 
 
 He laid his burden down ; and, pushing 
 back the long, wet hair, which had fallen 
 from its fastenings, he looked eagerly into 
 the white face.
 
 254 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Walter started forward. 
 
 " It is Miss O'Brian," lie said. 
 
 " Yes," said the man. " I found her be- 
 neath an oak tree here, taking shelter from 
 the floods of rain. I told her it was not safe 
 in such a storm ; but she laughed, and said 
 she did not want to get wet, and bid me go 
 home, but I could not leave her in danger 
 like that, and stood a few paces from the 
 tree to watch her. At one awful flash, I 
 rushed towards her ; but, too late — she had 
 fallen. Oh ! is she dead ? " he said again, as 
 he brushed from his forehead the large drops 
 which stood on it. 
 
 He was a singularly handsome fellow, 
 though his dress and manner bespoke his 
 rustic origin ; and the rough, brown hands, 
 with which he tenderly supported the faint- 
 ing girl, shewed that by hard work his bread 
 was earned. 
 
 " No — no ; not dead/' said Everard ; '' it
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 255 
 
 is a faint from fright ; we want Dolly here. 
 Go to Grace, Walter, and send Dolly ; stay, 
 I will go,'' he said, seeing Walter hesitate ; 
 and in a moment or two, Dolly had put 
 them all aside, and Kathleen had opened her 
 eyes on the large sofa in the servants' hall, 
 wondering where she was, and at the 
 anxious faces which were around her. 
 
 On Walter her gaze first rested. 
 
 ''Mr. Ashleigh, what is this? what is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " Exactly," he said, coming to her, and 
 taking her hand; *' we want to know what 
 tempted a young lady so far from home in 
 such weather ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I know ; I went to see Mrs. 
 Wakefield ; she is so ill, and baby, too ; and 
 coming home, the storm came on — and Kalph 
 warned me not to go under the tree. There 
 he is — poor Kalph ! I'm all right — not hurt 
 a bit," she said ; and she held her hand out
 
 256 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 to tlic young man, who had stood apart 
 while Walter spoke. 
 
 " I can't think what made me so silly. I 
 am never frightened; but that fearful flash, 
 after Ealph's warning, seemed to strike me ; 
 and I remember nothing till now. Did I 
 faint ? " 
 
 " Yes, you certainly did," answered 
 AValter ; for Ealph made no answer, only 
 dropped the hand she had given him, and 
 stood at the foot of the sofa, with his eyes 
 fixed on Walter. 
 
 " I must go," she said ; "the old people 
 will be frightened." 
 
 " You must have a glass of wine. Miss," 
 said Dolly, handing one to her, "before 
 you go." 
 
 " Go ! You cannot go in such weather as 
 this," said Walter. 
 
 " It's clearing up fast, sii\" said the young 
 man ; " if you'll have the kindness to lend
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 257 
 
 US an umbrella, I can take Miss O'Brian 
 home." 
 
 " Wait a little/' said Walter. "In another 
 two minutes, the storm will be well over, I 
 think ; for I can see the moon struggling 
 through the clouds. Miss O'Brian is scarcely 
 recovered enough yet." 
 
 ''I am, indeed," she said, rising; " and I 
 would rather go. Come, Ealph; if you are 
 really going my way, I would be glad of your 
 escort. Thank you so much for your kind- 
 ness, Mr. Ashleigh." 
 
 He held his hand out, but either she did 
 not or would not see it; and, with a bow, 
 which would have graced a court, the young 
 girl passed out of the room, followed by 
 Ealph. 
 
 Walter stood where she had left him a 
 second or two ; then, unheeding some remark 
 of Dolly's, he went to the door out of which 
 the two had gone, and, opening it, looked 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 out on the night. The thunder still growled 
 in the distance ; and an occasional flash of 
 lightning gleamed in the sky, but far less 
 vivid. The tempest seemed to have ex- 
 hausted itself, as an angry child after a fit of 
 passion; but, like the child, it could not at 
 once recover its serenity. The tears were, as 
 it were, still on its face; the angry gleam in 
 its eye. The moon, like a gentle peacemaker, 
 was trying to chase the clouds; and, by its 
 fitful gleam, Walter could see the two figures 
 moving on. They neither of them turned to 
 look back ; but he stayed till he could see 
 them no longer ; and then, closing the door, 
 rejoined his brother and sister in the draw- 
 ing-room. His father stood there, and 
 Grace and Everard looked at Walter 
 meaningly as he entered. His father did not 
 speak ; but he said : 
 
 " We've had a sharp storm, sir.*' 
 
 '^Very." .
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 259 
 
 There was a pause. Mr. Ashleigh stood 
 still on the hearthrug, with his back 
 to the fireplace, as he would before a fire. 
 
 Then Walter said, turning to his brother, 
 "I believe that was a slight shock of elec- 
 tricity that poor girl had, Everard." 
 
 " Yes ; I hope she will feel no ill effects. 
 She is very beautiful. I have often 
 heard you speak of her ; but I never saw her 
 before." 
 
 " Who are you speaking of, may I ask ? " 
 said his father. 
 
 " Of Kathleen 'Brian, sir ; the grand- 
 child of one of our farmers, who, caught in 
 this fearful storm, fell, from either fright 
 or the lightning, and was brought in here." 
 
 " Indeed ! and, pray, why here ? Could 
 she not have been conveyed to her own 
 home ? " 
 
 " Rather far, sir, to carry a lifeless young 
 
 lady," said Walter, coolly. 
 
 S2
 
 260 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 *' But I don t choose, sir, your low-bred 
 acquaintances to be encouraged here. It 
 strikes me, people do come here, very often, 
 whom I should object to have beneath my 
 roof." 
 
 Grace raised a startled look to her brother's 
 face. 
 
 " I think, sir, as a rule, you invite the 
 persons who visit here," he answered, in the 
 same cool, measured tone. 
 
 " Not all, sir," said his father, speaking 
 through his clenched teeth. " And, now, 
 listen to me — all three of you. I have my 
 doubts as to who does come here in my 
 absence ; and — have a care — take this 
 warning, given now, once for all : let me not 
 catch in this house any one whom I should 
 object to see here, or you may deeply rue it." 
 He rang the bell sharply as he spoke, and 
 desired Dolly to be sent to him — ^the three 
 keeping an entire silence till she entered.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 261 
 
 ** Dolly," he said, " where are the keys of 
 the west wing ? " 
 
 " Oh ! let me see ; have I got them in my 
 pocket ? Yes ; here they are, sir." 
 
 " Give them to me. Have you been there 
 lately ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; of course, sir. I was there 
 this evening. The girls are always hearing 
 and seeing things and figures, and frightening 
 themselves to fits. / wish the old place was 
 pulled down. We shall have all the maids 
 leaving ; and I went to convince them there 
 was nothing there." 
 
 " And did you convince them ? " 
 
 " Why, no, sir ; for, pon my word, I saw a 
 figure in the room myself." 
 
 '' Humph ! Have you never seen one 
 there before ? " 
 
 "Well, really, sir, I've fancied so many 
 times. One does get them nervous ideas 
 when you're always hearing such dreadful
 
 262 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 tales ; but there was no fancy to-night. 
 Bless you, sir ! I see it as plain as I see you." 
 
 " Very well, then ; to-morrow I will have 
 the entrance boarded up — and the windows 
 and the door into the orchard." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I would ; that will be a capital 
 plan — shut the ghosts in, and let them have 
 a day by themselves." 
 
 "You will not require the keys any 
 more." 
 
 " No, sir — of course not ; but how about 
 the furniture ? Shan't we take that out ? " 
 
 " I will see about that when the workmen 
 are there. Good night, Dolly." 
 
 " Good night, sir." 
 
 *'You had better go to bed, too, young 
 people, and carry my words with you : no 
 one is to enter this house whom I should not 
 welcome. Good night ; " and he walked out 
 of the room. 
 
 Grace covered her face with her hands.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 263 
 
 and burst into a passion of tears. Everard 
 put his arm round her, and led her gently 
 upstairs. Walter followed them. With a 
 simple " Good night " to each other, they 
 parted ; but a look of settled determination 
 was on Walter's face. 
 
 He went to town by a very early train in 
 the morning; and the next day, to his 
 astonishment, his father walked into the 
 office, and, with a stern face, and in a cold, 
 hard voice, said : 
 
 " Where is your sister, sir ? tell me this 
 moment."
 
 264 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was a beautiful morning after the storm ; 
 and Kathleen came into the pretty breakfast 
 room, looking fresh and lovely as the day 
 itself. The old people had been very anxious 
 about her, and feared, from the account 
 Ealph gave them, that she would feel some 
 ill effects from the shock which he beheved 
 she had received ; but she assured them that 
 the great heat, and walking so quickly to get 
 home before the storm broke, caused her to 
 faint, that was all ; and that a night's rest 
 was all she wanted. So, as I say, bright and 
 fresh, as the sweet August morning itself; 
 her ruddy brown hair — Hke the leaves in the 
 woods, which were now changing to the
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 265 
 
 dusky tints of autumn — rolled up in many 
 plaits round her head, amongst which 
 nestled the little cluster of lace and ribbands 
 she called a cap ; her clean print dress, with 
 the same coloured bow at her throat that 
 gleamed amongst the lace — she was a 
 pleasant sight to see, this sweet morning : 
 well in accordance with all its rich and 
 glowing beauty. She stood for a moment at 
 the open window, throwing crumbs to some 
 little bantams, who were allowed to come on 
 the lawn — in honour of being her special pets 
 — and pulling sprays of the jasmine, which 
 grew around the window. Then, catching 
 sight of a figure coming up the road, she 
 went out into the hall, and stood beneath the 
 porch with a smile parting her rich, red lips, 
 as the little gate opened, and Ealph Grey- 
 brooke entered. 
 
 " A letter for me, Ealph ? " 
 
 ** Yes, Miss ; with the old post-mark, and
 
 266 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 the same writing," he said, looking at her 
 wistfully as she took the letter from him. 
 
 " Yes, my Irish friends are faithful, Ealph 
 — are they not ? — 
 
 * Sure ye wouldn't forget your poor Terence, 
 Ye'll come back to ould Ireland again ; ' " 
 
 she sang softly, as she stood looking 
 at the letter ; and poor Ealph fancied an 
 old memory had been awakened, and a for- 
 gotten promise, perhaps, re- called. 
 
 He stood looking at her — and, in his deep, 
 brown, liquid eyes, there was an expression 
 which would have pained her, if she had 
 raised hers to meet them : so infinitely tender, 
 so touchingly sad ; but she seemed to have 
 forgotten he was there — holding her letter, 
 and yet not opening it : gazing at it, as- 
 though she could read its message through 
 its cover. 
 
 At length he said gently and timidly, feel- 
 ing he had no right to ask the question :
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 267 
 
 " Is it from Terence ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! Kalph," she said, looking 
 up now laughingly and candidly in his face. 
 "It is from a little Irish girl I know ; that 
 was only a line of a song, that her writing 
 reminded me of ; I know no Terence. Oh ! 
 sure I do, though ; would I forget old Terence 
 Magrath, the blind fiddler, that would play 
 to us till our feet were tired with dancing ; " 
 and humming a few bars of an Irish jig, she 
 danced a few steps. 
 
 " Ah ! you can't dance a jig now, can you, 
 Ralph ? " 
 
 "No, no ; dancing is not in my line," he 
 answered. 
 
 " But it is good to dance, and laugh, and 
 sing too, Ralph." 
 
 " This world is too sad for that. Miss — at 
 least I've found it so." 
 
 " Nay, nay," she said, kindly. " If the 
 old learn to think so, young hearts like youra
 
 '268 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 must not look so on life. With the dawn, 
 all should be bright and gay. Only when the 
 day grows old come the shadows ; and when 
 they lengthen in the evening, even then the 
 rosy light of the setting sun speaks hopefully 
 of another and, it may be, a still brighter 
 day." 
 
 " Oh, Miss O'Brian !— if I could think and 
 speak like you. But — there — -there's where I 
 feel it. I am like a clod of earth the plough- 
 share turns over, and — you — you are like 
 the golden ears of corn that rise above it." 
 
 ''And what would that corn be, Ealph, 
 without the kindly clods, that warmed and 
 nourished it ? No one is better than his 
 fellow in the sight of Him who made us all ; 
 and those who do the work He gives them, 
 however lowly it may l3e, faithfully and 
 well, merit as much honour and respect as 
 the proudest peer in all the land — you do, 
 good Kalph. Among all who w^ork on my
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 269 
 
 grandfather's farm, there is no one he so 
 trusts and honours/' 
 
 " And yet you forbid — " he said, making 
 a sudden step nearer to her, his voice tremb- 
 ling, and his bronzed handsome face growing 
 pale even to his hps. 
 
 " Hush ! husli ! Fm called," she said ;, 
 and she was gone, and he stood a second or 
 two where she left him^ and then, taking off 
 his cap, he pushed the thick heavy masses 
 of dark hair off his forehead, as though that 
 was the weight that oppressed it ; and lifting 
 his large luminous eyes to the blue sky, he 
 murmured some words, in which was the 
 name of Kathleen, and went away through 
 the garden — where the flowers were shaking 
 the dew from their opening petals, as the warm 
 sun awoke them, again to send their fragrance 
 through the earth on the wings of the sum- 
 mer breeze — through the wet, cool grass of 
 the meadow beyond, where the quiet cows
 
 270 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 stood in groups fit for the pencil of a Paul 
 Potter ; and on again to a small cottage, 
 standing by the road-side. He lifted the 
 latch and went in. An old man sat 
 smoking his pipe beside a table, on which 
 stood a cup containing some weak tea with- 
 out milk, and a plate with a small piece of 
 bread and butter on it. 
 
 " Ah, Muster Greybrooke ! good morrow 
 to you — got a job for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Harris ; the rats are so troublesome 
 in the large barn again — will you bring the 
 dogs down presently ? And the master would 
 like a well dug in the home meadow, if there 
 is water — will you bring your stick and 
 see ? " 
 
 "Yes— all right; I'll be there. And I 
 bope young Miss will come out and see about 
 that water business ; for she's as onbeheving 
 about it as can be." 
 
 " Well, Harris, it's enough to stagger any-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 271 
 
 one ; but IVe seen you do it so many times, 
 and they say seeing's believing." 
 
 " Why, yes, bless you ! I can't tell you 
 why the thing does it ; I only know as that 
 'ere stick will point down to where the water 
 is — let me hold it as hard as I will ; but 
 Miss warnt believe it. She don't like believ- 
 ing what she can't get to the bottom of. 
 She's a 'cute girl — she is. Will you sit 
 down ? — I ain't got much to offer you," he 
 said, with a low chuckle, pointing to the 
 table. 
 
 " No, thank you, Harris ; I breakfasted 
 long ago. Good morning ; " and out he 
 went again to see to the work about the 
 farm ; for he was Broderip's bailiff — earnest, 
 faithful, and trustworthy, as Kathleen had 
 said — but though he did his homely, rural 
 work thus faithfully and well, in his heart 
 was a great dull pain, andja vain longing, 
 which many a night kept him tossing on his
 
 272 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 bed, and whicli he wrestled with and fought 
 against in vain. 
 
 Kathleen, an hour later, sat in the arbour 
 in the garden — a basket of work at her feet ; 
 but in her hand the letter which Ealph had 
 brought her that morning. No matter what 
 else he had to do, he went regularly to the 
 village for her letters, because he knew she 
 Hked to have them sooner than the old post- 
 man would bring them. This little service 
 it was his delight to render to the girl, whose 
 beautiful face was in his dreams — whose voice 
 rang in his ears — whose every word he trea- 
 sured and remembered — who was the joy 
 and torture of his life. 
 
 She had read the letter once — twice ; but 
 was reading it again, with a smile upon her 
 lips — ^half mirth, half sadness : "I was 
 foolish, after all, to do this ; perhaps, if poor 
 little Kathleen — but, no matter ; I must have 
 patience a Httle longer. She seems to have
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 273 
 
 lost all liope ; but I have not ; " and then she 
 took up the work — homely, plain work — over 
 which her shaj)ely fingers busied themselves, 
 while she sang short snatches of Irish melo- 
 dies in a low, tender voice and tutored style, 
 which would have made Eupert Carrington 
 wonder, had he heard it ; and while she 
 worked, a message came from the Priory 
 to know how Miss O'Brian was — only 
 Walter's card, with the simple words to in- 
 quire for Miss 'Brian. He had left word 
 when he went to town with the man-servant 
 that the card should be sent. She smiled, 
 and told the messenger she was well — quite 
 well — and thanked Mr. Ashleigh for sending ; 
 and then, going into the house, she was soon 
 busied in the homely duties which made up 
 her life. 
 
 The Ladies Murray had that same bright 
 morning betaken themselves to the village, 
 
 for Dr. Stillwell had gone with poor old 
 VOL. 1. T
 
 274 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Poyntz ; and so Gertrude assured Ma'mselle 
 tliat exemption from all work was tlie proper 
 tiling under the circumstances, and a walk 
 tlie most healthful and agreeable substitute 
 for study. May, who had taken leave of 
 the Duke for a week or two, was in a very 
 restless mood, and was glad to go out or 
 move about anywhere; for the pretty grey 
 eyes were very red, and the bright dimpled 
 face so sad, that even Gertrude had not the 
 heart to laugh at her. 
 
 They betook themselves first to a shop — 
 *' the " shop, as it was called in the village ; 
 for it was the emporium for everything that 
 was required, save butcher's meat. At one 
 counter was bacon, butter, eggs, lard, cheese, 
 string, brooms, brushes, dustpans, saucepans, 
 soda, blue, hearth-stones, scouring-paper, 
 boots and shoes, and Huntley and Palmer's 
 biscuits; at the other, print dresses, caHco, 
 flannel, cotton, needles, shawls, bonnets, and.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 275 
 
 as one box was labelled, '* dress caps/' which 
 box was like Pandora's to Gertrude, so great 
 was her anxiety to examine its contents, and 
 see what Mrs. Sindon's notion of a dress cap 
 was. Twice she had besought Lilian to let her 
 buy one for Cook, that her curiosity might 
 be gratified ; but she had assured her that 
 Cook would not wear it, and that it was 
 foolish to throw money away. But Gertrude 
 • — who, when she had taken a fancy into her 
 head, was very pertinacious, and managed 
 generally to get what she wanted — had de- 
 termined on making one of her village 
 favourites a present of a dress cap, for she 
 was quite sure good Mrs. Mason would think 
 anything beautiful " my lady " gave her ; and 
 as Lilian had also some purchases to make in 
 the way of holland and braid for her little 
 scholars' pinafores, she determined to take 
 this opportunity of inspecting the mysteries 
 
 of the dress cap box. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A MINGLED YARN, 
 
 The girls could hardly any of them sup- 
 press theu' laughter — so long had this joke 
 existed — when Gertrude asked for the "di-ess- 
 caps ; " still less so when the articles were 
 exhibited. Gertrude chose the one most 
 covered with ribbands ; and, having assured 
 Ma'mselle in German "that this cap truly 
 the veritable pattern worn by Mrs. Noah 
 was," she refused Mrs. Sindon's offer to send 
 it home, as she wished to carry it at once to 
 her old friend. Of course, in this shop, all 
 the gossip of the village was collected and 
 retailed ; and during all the time Mr. or Mrs. 
 Sindon served their customers, they kept up 
 a lively stream of conversation on the topics 
 of the day. 
 
 "Dreadful storm yesterday, my lady?" she 
 began, as she measured out Lilian's hoUand. 
 
 " Yes — very severe. I have not heard 
 that any mischief was done, though, in 
 this village."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 277 
 
 " Well, no, my lady ; not just in the 
 village. But a rick was fired down in the 
 meadows, and poor Kathleen 'Brian was 
 struck, they do say, and carried home in- 
 sensible." 
 
 " Kathleen O'Brian— who is she ? " 
 
 *'Broderip's grandchild, my lady." 
 
 '' Oh, yes ! the giii we admire — you 
 know," said Gertrude, " and did not know 
 her name." 
 
 "Yes, my lady ; she is a wonderful good- 
 looking young woman — so ladyfied, too ; 
 ain't she, miss ? — my lady, I mean." 
 
 " I have never seen her, Mrs. Sindon ; 
 but we must be going now," said Lilian, who 
 always endeavoured to escape Mrs. Sindon 
 when she began any of her conversation, 
 greatly to Gertrude's vexation, for she, to say 
 truth, delighted in a bit of gossip. 
 
 " Let us go down the meadows, and in- 
 * quire after the poor girl," said Gertrude
 
 278 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 eagerly when they left the shop. " Broderip 
 was one of our tenants once — and Auntie 
 Kkes the old man so much." 
 
 " We may as well walk there as anywhere 
 else," replied May. 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; and I should like to see 
 her so much." 
 
 " But you are not likely to see her if she 
 has been struck by lightning," said Edith; 
 " so, if your polite intentions are simply 
 founded on curiosity, I think you will have 
 a lost walk." 
 
 " Oh, no ! but it is kind to ask for a 
 neighbour that have a misfortune so large," 
 interposed Ma mselle. "And we have no walk 
 elsewhere of obligement — so let us go." 
 
 "We shall be fried— that's all," said 
 Edith ; " not an atom of shelter all the 
 way." 
 
 " Edith, you're dreaming ! Why those 
 grand old trees in Bourne Park hang over
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 279 
 
 two of the paths through the fields ; and, in 
 short, it's an avenue all the way." 
 
 "A slight difference of opinion," said 
 Lilian, smiling. " Let Edith come home 
 with me ; and Ma'mselle can take Gertrude 
 and May. But had you not better teU 
 Mrs. Mason to send up for the cap, Gerty; 
 or tell Mrs. Sindon to send it to the old 
 lady ? " 
 
 " I have got it here— I am going to carry 
 it myself, Lil. Half the fun is to see the old 
 dame's delight." 
 
 " Well you must go there first, and down 
 to the meadows after ; but don't be late for 
 luncheon." 
 
 "No, no — a capital arrangement. Come 
 along, Ma'mselle — good-bye, girls." 
 
 They went on through the village till 
 they came to a picturesque group of cottages, 
 with a piece of ground before them, laid out 
 in separate gardens. An inscription over
 
 280 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 the middle cottage gave the information that 
 these were the Medlicott Almshouses, 
 founded in 1706, by Sir Thomas Medlicott. 
 They knocked at the first, and it was opened 
 by an old woman in a clean, dark, blue print 
 gown, white apron, and checked handker- 
 chief over her neck, and a very high muslin 
 cap, covered with a gauze ribband of the 
 fashion of some fifty years ago: a check — 
 red, yellow, and blue. She looked over her 
 large silver-rimmed spectacles at her visitors, 
 and then, with a joyous smile, and glad 
 voice, she said : 
 
 " Oh, my dear ladies ! come in — come in. 
 Oh ! I be just pleased to see you ! " 
 
 " We cannot stay long, Mrs. Mason," said 
 Gertrude, as they seated themselves in the 
 pretty cottage, where the furniture — all of 
 old oak — shone like mirrors : the old eight- 
 day clock, the arm-chair, the table with its 
 twisted legs — ^treasures of early wedded
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 281 
 
 days — and which Gertrude never failed to 
 charm the old woman by admiring. 
 
 After the admiration at the cap had sub- 
 sided, they said they must go, for they were 
 going down to Broderip's farm before 
 luncheon, to enquire for his grandchild. 
 
 "Ah, poor dear! — I heard she'd been 
 hurted — it was a tempest, surely. What a 
 handsome, winsome young lass she is — do 
 you know her, ladies ? " asked the old 
 woman. 
 
 '' No — we have only seen her in church, 
 and passing in the village. How long has 
 she been with her grandfather ? Can you 
 tell us all about her, Mrs. Mason?" enquired 
 Gertrude eagerly. 
 
 *'Well, my dear lady, only just this; that 
 I know Broderip had a daughter as took 
 service in Ireland, and married there an 
 Irish soldier, who died and left her and her 
 little girl but badly provided for ; but
 
 282 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Ellen's mistress slie was very kind to her, 
 and got lier one or two nurse cliildren, and 
 one way or other she pulled along till she 
 fell in a bad way — consumptive, I beheve, — 
 and then the old folks bid her send Httle 
 Kathleen to them. I don't rightly know if 
 the mother is living, or whether she ain't 
 dead since Kathleen come ; but, leastways, 
 she's been with the old folks a matter of a 
 twelvemonth. The mother was as pretty a 
 gal as ever you see ; but as fair as the child 
 is dark — bless you ! her hair was as light as 
 my Lady Edith's. Mistress Medlicott, she 
 knowed her right well. I can't see as 
 Kathleen favours her mother at all — may be 
 she's like the father. He must have been a 
 terrible good-looking chap, if she is — that's 
 all I know. Poor old Jane Broderip, next 
 door, is old Broderip's sister, and she tells me 
 all about them. She's been down there all 
 day to-day, and when she comes back, I shall
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 283 
 
 hear how the poor girl is. They're mortal 
 fond of her, and no wonder. She's that 
 steady and useful, and clever too — why she 
 writes poetry quite beautiful, I'm told." 
 
 " Oh ! I should so like to see her," said 
 Gertrude, " and talk to her. I wonder if 
 she is too ill to see us to-day. 
 
 "Ah ! I can't tell; but I'm sure, my lady, 
 you'll like her. "Why when she comes into 
 her aunt's little room next door, she seems to 
 light the bit of a place up hke." 
 
 " I am more curious than ever. Good- 
 bye, Mrs. Mason. Come along, May — let us 
 get on ; I must go now. Somehow this girl 
 seems to me mixed up with our destiny," 
 said Gertrude, as, putting her arm through 
 her sister's, she hurried her down the 
 little village street. 
 
 "Oh I nonsense, Gertrude ! — that is just 
 one of your romantic fancies. Heigho ! I 
 wonder what Philip is doing now — writing
 
 284 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 to me, perhaps. He promised he would. 
 Is not it funny to call him Philip ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; I haven't tried," said 
 Gertrude. 
 
 *' No — of course, not yet ; but you will, I 
 suppose. What made you first think he 
 cared about me, Gertrude ? " 
 
 " I don't know — you both looked so silly 
 at each other." 
 
 May laughed ; and poor Ma'mselle im- 
 plored that they would not walk so fast — 
 the heat was so " insupportable ; " so, more 
 quietly, they pursued their way to the farm 
 in the meadows. May, glad to find so ready 
 a listener as Gertrude to her one theme 
 of conversation — " Philip ; " and patient 
 Ma'mselle, content to linger a little way 
 behind with "Nep," occupied with her 
 own thoughts, which were more practical 
 and less romantic than the talk of the 
 young, bright girls, who were looking
 
 A MINGLED YAPwN. 285 
 
 forth into life so joyously, and who knew 
 so little of its stern and less inviting side. 
 
 Kupert Carrington was seated in his 
 quarters writing some letters. He had been 
 up two nights with his uncle. No signs of 
 returning sense had shewn itself, and the 
 physician said he was decidedly weaker, and 
 he could give no hopes of him. He had just 
 told his man he wished him to take a note to 
 the War Office, when the door of his room 
 opened, and Walter entered. 
 
 " My dear fellow, Tm so glad to see you. 
 I was just writing to you — sit down." 
 
 " I had five minutes to spare, so I jumped 
 into a hansom to come and see how you are 
 getting on. What's the news?" 
 
 " Bad as can be — only a question of 
 time." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! Fm very sorry." 
 
 "Yes — it's a bad business in every way." 
 
 "Things are rather blue our way," said
 
 286 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 Walter ; "we have had an unpleasant 
 disturbance again — my sister has left 
 home." 
 
 "Left home!" echoed Eupert ; "where 
 has she gone ? " 
 
 " I do not, unhappily, know ; but I believe 
 — though I cannot get the exact truth from 
 my father — that he aggravated her beyond 
 her patient endurance after I left on Monday, 
 and she has run away ; for, yesterday, he 
 came to my place, to my great surprise, and 
 demanded my sister. I knew nothing 
 of her absence, although, of course, he sus- 
 pected me. I have sent to the only two 
 likely places where she might be, and 
 she is not at either ; and you may suppose 
 I am not too happy about her." 
 
 " Good gracious me ! I should think not, 
 my dear Pop. Can I do anything for you ? 
 My poor dear uncle does not know, and 
 therefore does not miss me. I will go any-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 287 
 
 where — do anything for you," said Eupert, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " Thank you, old fellow, I am sure you 
 will ; but I am perfectly at sea : I do not 
 know what course to take. I have tele- 
 graphed to Everard to come up and talk to 
 me, and hear his ideas on the subject. My 
 delightful parent only stamped and raved, 
 4xnd I could obtain but little information from 
 him, so I hope to see the dear old man before 
 night : he takes things so gently and quietly. 
 There is a lady — well, I don't see why I'm 
 obliged to keep it secret from you if I don't 
 choose ; my father deserves little at my 
 hands, that I should trouble myself to keep 
 his counsel. My mother, Eupert, is living ; 
 my father ill-treated her, though she loved 
 him as I believe only women know how to 
 love. She bore it till it grew beyond her ; 
 and then she left him, took a small house in 
 London — without letting him know her
 
 288 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 whereabouts — coming at intervals to see us 
 wlien he was out or away. He thinks her 
 abroad. She implored us by our love to her 
 to stay on with him. We were all too 
 old when she left for the law to sanction 
 her taking us ; and the small pittance he 
 is compelled to allow her, she can only 
 exist on herself. When he bought this 
 old place, its bad rej)utation delighted us ; 
 for we at once saw a plan of seeing our 
 mother oftener. She has been the ghost 
 ever since we have lived there ; but at 
 length he has, we fear, discovered our plot, 
 and his wrath has, I suspect, fallen on poor 
 Grace. What can have become of her, 
 Eupe?" 
 
 " I cannot imagine. This is a romance 
 indeed. You have been to your mother, 
 you say? " 
 
 " I have ; to her, and a kind aunt whom 
 Grace often visits, that she may see her
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 289 
 
 mother ; but neither of them have heard of 
 her, and you may imagine my mother's 
 state. She declared my father has made 
 away with her. Poor dear mother ! her 
 excitable temperament and warm temper 
 have helped to increase our sorrow." 
 
 " But your father came to you to ask 
 for her?" 
 
 " Yes, and he seemed alarmed, as well 
 as angry. As much as he can love any- 
 thing he loves Grace, I believe. He would 
 not harm her, I am sure ; but where can 
 she be '{ " 
 
 " You will, no doubt, hear from her in 
 the course of the day : she can have no 
 secrets from you." 
 
 " No ; if she has gone of her own free 
 will I know I shall hear of her. " 
 
 " You will have Everard with you before 
 you leave the office ; and then you had 
 better both come here, and we will decide 
 
 VOL. L U
 
 290 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 what is best to be done. Oh dear, Pop ! 
 this world is a very wicked place, I think." 
 
 " Well, I don't know, Eupe ; the world 
 is well enough : it's the people in it that 
 are such a bore. But I must really go 
 back now. I will be here again as soon 
 as I can." 
 
 At five o'clock the two brothers entered 
 Kupert's quarters. 
 
 " Tell him all you know, Everard," said 
 Walter, when they were seated. 
 
 " It is little enough, I grieve to say," said 
 Everard, who looked pale and worn. Mental 
 anxiety, or any overstrain of the mind, 
 showed so quickly on his delicate, sensitive 
 organization. " I only know," he continued, 
 " that my father and Grace had a very 
 stormy interview on Monday : that is to say, 
 he did the part of the thunder," he said, with 
 a sad smile, "and Grace the rain. I at 
 length ventured to interfere, and sent Grace
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 291 
 
 to bed, letting him expend his fury on me. 
 It did not hurt me as much as poor Grade." 
 
 " Poor old man ! " said Walter, with that 
 wistful tenderness he so often assumed 
 towards his brother. Everard looked up, 
 with his sweet smile, in his brother's face, 
 and went on : 
 
 "He exhausted all the graceful epithets 
 
 in his vocabulary on me — which I suppose 
 
 he had sufficient decent feeling not to heap 
 
 on his daughter — and then, finding it pro- 
 
 <luced so little effect on me, he took himself 
 
 off to bed. I was not surprised in the 
 
 morning that Grace did not appear at 
 
 breakfast : they said she had a headache. 
 
 About twelve o'clock, a letter was brought, 
 
 which Dolly told me afterwards seemed to 
 
 agitate her very much ; and two hours 
 
 afterwards, when the luncheon gong sounded, 
 
 she was not to l)e found, and my father, 
 
 raging and storming, declared you must 
 
 ij 2
 
 292 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 know all about it, and set off to see you 
 at once. Dolly, wlio is very clever, as you 
 know, and thoroughly knows my father, 
 says it is a plot of his. We, of course, 
 thought she had gone to her mother, until 
 we had your telegram saying 'not.' What 
 is to be done ? " 
 
 " Have you ascertained who brought the 
 letter which she received the day she went ? " 
 asked Kupert. 
 
 " Dolly says a village boy brought it." 
 
 "A village boy? Was Mr. Ashleigh 
 in the house at the time the letter came ? " 
 
 " I think not, but I really do not know. 
 I pass all my time in-doors nearly, in my 
 own room. Let us go again to Aunt 
 Clarinda, and consult with her. I, you 
 know, can give her fuller information." 
 
 " Yes," said Walter, *' but our poor 
 mother is in such an agony. Let us go to 
 aunt's, and take her to Blandford Street, and
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 293 
 
 we can hold a ' family council/ "What do 
 you say to that, Rupe ? " 
 
 '* Yes ; that is decidedly the best thing to 
 do. There can be no question in my 
 mind, from all you tell me, that your father 
 has managed to have your sister removed 
 somewhere, to keep her from her mother. 
 I should act on this supposition." 
 
 "Yes. Then we will start at once for 
 Aunt Clarinda's ; come along, Everard." 
 
 •' Come back here, and we will have some 
 dinner ; and I shall learn what you have 
 decided on. You will not 2:0 back to 
 night, Ashleigh ? " he said, turning to 
 Everard. 
 
 '' No ; I told Dolly not to expect me. 
 Poor little woman ! sh(i will have to bear 
 my father's anger. I told her to say that I 
 had gone in search of my sister, and I 
 think she rather liked the job. She is 
 not the least afraid of him ; and when
 
 294 A MINGLED YAEN. 
 
 she thinks he deserves to be annoyed, likes- 
 doing it." 
 
 " "Well, let us be off now, Everard," said 
 Walter; "and you can sleep at my place to- 
 night, and we will neither of us go home 
 without some trace of our poor Grace."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 *' Oh, Lilian ! " said Gertrude, rushing into 
 the room, just as the first gong sounded for 
 luncheon, "I have seen her, and talked to 
 her, and she is lovely — oh! so lovely and so 
 sweet — with just a slight Irish brogue, that 
 makes all she says so charming and arch." 
 
 " Then, she is not hurt ? " said Lilian, 
 smiling at her enthusiasm. 
 
 " No, no. She only fainted, she says, 
 from heat and fatigue." 
 
 *' Who is this ? " said Auntie, who had 
 been busily engaged with the newspaper. 
 
 " Old Broderip's grandchild, Auntie dear, 
 who lives with him. It was reported 
 in the village that she had met with an
 
 '296 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 accident in the storm, so we have been down 
 to see after her ; but it was a false alarm, 
 and she is so lovely. Auntie — exquisite.'' 
 
 •' Dear little Gertrude ! she always deals 
 in superlatives," said her aunt, smiling, and 
 patting her cheek. 
 
 "Yes, Gertrude's geese are all swans," 
 said Edith. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure it's much better to see 
 through rose-coloured glasses than yellow 
 ones ; is it not. Auntie ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! my child. I think extravagant 
 admiration is better then detraction ; but if 
 the admiration is proved to he extravagant, 
 it may be mistaken for a different feeling. 
 Large expressions are seldom wise ones, as 
 I often tell you." 
 
 " But, Auntie darling, do you mean to say 
 that if you heard a girl call another ex- 
 quisitely beautiful, you would think she was 
 jealous of her ?"
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 297 
 
 " If, by common consent, that other was 
 considered very moderately good-looking, I 
 should certainly think the young lady had 
 some object for such a statement, and that 
 she was anxious her hearers should not 
 think her jealous." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said poor Gertrude, ruefully, 
 *^ I shall be always leading people into 
 mistakes then ; for I can't help using great 
 big words : language is so poor to express 
 one's feelings." 
 
 " I think it is our bad use of poor 
 language, more than any fault of its own," 
 said Auntie. "Sometimes I think the young 
 folks have learnt foreign languages until 
 they have forgotten their own. But run 
 away now, love ; for I can hear Pritchard 
 taking in the luncheon." 
 
 At this moment a servant entered the 
 library with a letter on the salver for the 
 Lady May, which, with her face crimsoning,
 
 298 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 she took ; and lunclieon from, that moment^ 
 became to her a work of supererogation. 
 How many times she read it : locked in her 
 own room — beneath the trees in the garden. 
 Every moment that could be secured alone, 
 the sweet " old " words — " old/' yet always 
 new and always sweet — were read again and 
 again, and pressed to May's rosy lips, and 
 placed beneath her pillow at night, and carried 
 with her always ; till in time it grew the 
 veriest rag of a letter ever seen, but 
 dearer to May than any jewel she owned, 
 and with any of which she would have 
 gladly parted rather than that worn paper. 
 What would Gertrude have given for one 
 peep — just to see how it began and ended ; 
 but she knew it was in vain to ask, so 
 tried to suppress her curiosity, and con- 
 tent herself, as Lilian smilingly advised 
 her, by waiting until she had one of her 
 own.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 299 
 
 "Ah ! I don t know when that will be, 
 Lil," she had answered. "You girls will get 
 the jDick, and leave me only the rubbish: and 
 I won't have that. I'll have someone worth 
 having, or no one at all. I'd rather die an old 
 maid, than marry some men I see — most men 
 I may say : so few come up to my standard. " 
 
 "To be an old maid is not such a fright- 
 ful alternative, is it, Gertrude ?" asked Lilian, 
 looking up from her work at her little sister, 
 who was perched on the top of the library 
 steps, where she had mounted to get a book, 
 when this interesting conversation, suggested 
 by the first love letter, had commenced. 
 
 " Well, yes ; I think it's rather a loveless, 
 joyless state of existence — only to be tolerated 
 for want of a better." 
 
 "Gladly endured, Gertrude, rather than 
 that most wretched existence an ill-assorted 
 marriage," answered Lilian ; " and they have 
 much compensation, those old maids ! nice
 
 300 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 old maids ! their life is so useful — so valu- 
 able. They have half-a-dozen homes in 
 place of one, and they are always wanted 
 and always welcome." 
 
 " You said nice old maids ! — exactly ; 
 but how few there are. Why, Lil, imagine 
 me one ! I should be bitter, exacting, 
 dictatorial, and selfish to the last degree ; 
 and as to men, I should hate the very sight 
 of them, for I should feel as though I owed 
 them all a grudge for leaving me to such 
 a fate." 
 
 " What amount of rubbish are you talk- 
 ing ? " said Edith, lifting her head from the 
 drawing she had been engaged on at the 
 other end of the room. 
 
 " No rubbish at all, my dear. Lil and I 
 are engaged in a very sensible discourse." 
 
 " Lilian sj)oils you by letting you go on as 
 she does : a child like you to be for ever 
 talking of men and love ! "
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 301 
 
 *'May as well talk of tliem as think of 
 them, Edith. Better too, perhaps ; it's a sort 
 of safety valve ; and Lilian can correct me if 
 I say anything wrong, you know, or un- 
 befitting my tender years," she said, in a 
 demure voice, folding her hands and putting 
 on what she herself called a "goodie face." 
 
 " Don't be absurd, child, pray. I really 
 think you grow more frivolous every day." 
 
 " Do you really now? Never mind, dear, 
 you have sense and gravity enough for 
 the whole family. How jolly it is sitting 
 up here : I can look down on everybody." 
 
 " You look very ridiculous sitting up 
 there. Tell her to come down, Lilian." 
 
 "Why should she, Edith, dear? she's 
 quiet, and out of mischief," said Lihan, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Quiet ? her tongue has been running 
 nineteen to the dozen." 
 
 " Well, now look, Edith ; to oblige you.
 
 302 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 I will come down. See me fly ! " and, ex- 
 tending her arms, she sprang from the steps 
 almost into the arms of Mr. Prescott, who, 
 at the moment, was shewn in. 
 
 He stejDped back in astonishment ; and 
 poor Gertrude, in half angry confusion, said : 
 
 '' It's all Edith's fault ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mr. Prescott ; " how 
 you frightened me. I thought it was some 
 bright denizen of another world, suddenly 
 making a descent into this sublunary 
 sphere." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Prescott, you stole in so 
 gently, you startled us," said Lilian, rising 
 to shake hands with him ; " we never heard 
 you ring." 
 
 "Now, that appears to be a remarkable 
 fact ; but you w411 be instantly assured 
 that it is by no means remarkable. I did 
 not ring — the door was open, and your man 
 was in the hall. I am come," he con-
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 303 
 
 tinued, " with my mother and father's cards 
 of congratulation, and apology for not 
 coming in person ; but they were com- 
 pelled to go in an opposite direction." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Prescott ; my aunt 
 will be here directly. Edith, love, tell her, 
 will you ? " 
 
 " She is here, Lily," said Edith ; as, the 
 door opening gently, the little lady walked 
 in, followed by May. 
 
 A blush overspread all May's face as Mr. 
 Prescott bowed over the little hand she held 
 out to him. 
 
 " Are you come to take pity on us and 
 dine with us, Mr. Prescott," said Mistress 
 Medlicott, giving him the hearty welcome 
 she always did, looking at, and speaking to 
 him with tender earnestness. 
 
 "Thank you, I fear not; there is an un- 
 pleasant party at home, which will prevent 
 my having such a happiness. Imagine me.
 
 304 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 when you are seated round your social board, 
 whispering sweet nothings to an animal, 
 with scarlet hair, richly ornamented with 
 bright blue ribbands, a very gorgeous, plaid, 
 satin dress, and a Scotch accent that grates 
 on the drum of your ear, and reminds one of 
 the scratching of a bad pencil on a slate." 
 
 The girls laughed heartily, and Edith 
 said: 
 
 " And you are obliged to whisper soft 
 nothings to a person whom you admii-e so 
 much ? " 
 
 " Yes, Lady Edith. I am of such a self- 
 sacrificing nature, that — though devoted to 
 another, worshipping at another's shrine, and 
 all that sort of thing, you know — at the re- 
 quest of my mother I smother my feelings, 
 do violence to them I may say, and sacrifice 
 them on the altar of friendship." 
 
 "Dear me, Mr. Prescott!" said Gertrude, 
 laughing; "that is really too hard on you.
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 305 
 
 Is your mother aware of the extent of sacra- 
 fice you are making ? " 
 
 " No, no. I bear it in silence, but I am 
 growing thin under it : I have an inward 
 sorrow here, but I conceal it." 
 
 " Yes ; you do succeed there admirably, 
 Mr. Prescott." 
 
 "Ah, my lady! you are severe on me. 
 You do not fully enter into the torture of 
 a hidden grief. We will change the subject. 
 May I enquire after the health of the 
 gentleman who is given to midnight 
 peregrinations ? — the ' no 'arm with two 
 tails.'" 
 
 " Oh ! poor old man, he's gone away 
 altogether," answered Miss Medlicott, who 
 had sat smiling as the young man ran on 
 with his string of nonsense. " He quite 
 broke down, and gave up his situation." 
 
 " Poor old Poyntz ! " 
 
 '' iVnd the Duke," continued Auntie, 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 A MINGLED YAKN. 
 
 smiling slyly at blushing May, " left you 
 yesterday morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, to our great sorrow. We miss him 
 awfully. I had a great task with him, I 
 assure you. I thought he would lose the 
 train, for he kept forgetting everything, and 
 perpetually coming back again, and giving 
 the wildest orders to his man, at which the 
 unfortunate stared in amazement. It is my 
 private opinion that he has not been quite in 
 his right senses for some days. But, really. 
 Miss Medlicott," he said, in a low voice, 
 drawing his chair nearer to her, " he's a 
 first-rate fellow, and no mistake." 
 
 " He is, I believe. I am very well satis- 
 fied. Tell your good mother so with my 
 love," she added in the same tone. "We 
 are all veiy happy and content." 
 
 " That is well; but I must be going, really. 
 I promised faithfully not to be long, as 
 these painful Scotch cousins are expected
 
 A MmOLED YARN, 307 
 
 to arrive this afternoon. Lady Edith, '^ 
 he said, turning to her, " I think you said, 
 the other evening, you wished so much 
 to sketch the okl abbey in Mr. Morland's 
 grounds ? He says he shall be most 
 flattered if you will do so." 
 
 "He does?" exclaimed the girls altogether. 
 ''Why, what charm have you worked on 
 him, Mr. Prescott ? He is the most dis- 
 agreeable old creature." 
 
 "Yes; and has refused so many sketching 
 parties permission," said Edith, while a 
 somewhat conscious smile played on her 
 lips. " How kind of you to remember my 
 wish ; but I had no intention, when I 
 expressed it, that you should board the lion 
 in his den for the sake of my foolish 
 fancy." 
 
 He made some reply to lier in a low 
 
 tone, which she did not appear to liear, 
 
 and then said : 
 
 X 2
 
 308 A MINGLED YARK. 
 
 *'0h ! lie is my father's tenant; therefore, 
 we have a little power over him." 
 
 ** Indeed 1 I was not aware Oatlands was 
 Sir John's property," said Mistress Medlicott. 
 
 " Were you not? He has not had it very 
 long. It divides Oakdean from some more 
 land of his, so that when it was in the 
 market, he thought he would buy it ; and I 
 believe he has some idea, when this crusty 
 old party's lease is out, of throwing the two 
 estates into one. It will make a grand 
 place, then. The fault of Oakdean is, that 
 there is not enough land for the size of the 
 house ; but I must go — as I said before, I 
 believe — but ' parting is such sweet sorrow, 
 etc' Good-bye, Mistress Medlicott; 'tis an 
 age since you honoured Oakdean with a 
 visit." 
 
 " It is. I shall come now shortly, and 
 have a long chat with your mother, to 
 whom commend me heartily."
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 30^ 
 
 " How silent the room seems now he's 
 gone," said Gertrude, with a sigh. 
 
 " Dear me, Gertrude ! are you so very- 
 charmed with him ? " asked LiUan. 
 
 " Charmed ? no ; but he's such fun and 
 rattles on so, that when he's gone, a 
 * mourne silence ' seems to reign." 
 
 " A delightful calm, I think," said Edith, 
 going on witli the drawing his visit had 
 interrupted. 
 
 " That's very ungrateful of you, Edith, 
 after the dear kind fellow has taken such 
 pains to gratify your wish," said May, 
 warmly. 
 
 '^Halloa, May! I'll tell Philip," laughed 
 Gertrude. 
 
 " There's a kind of reflected glory on 
 him, you know, Gertrude," answered Edith ; 
 *'in May's eyes, he's a kind of shadow of 
 his Grace. What can be dearer to May
 
 310 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 than the Duke, but the Duke's most intimate 
 friend ? " 
 
 "True; really, it was kind of him to think 
 of your wish to sketch the Abbey." 
 
 " Very extraordinary his recollecting it ; 
 for I did not even say it to him. I was 
 talking to Everard Ashleigh at dinner 
 about drawing, and I merely said that 
 was the only pretty thing in the neighbour- 
 hood I had not a sketch of, and I would 
 give anything to do it. I did not know he 
 even heard me." 
 
 " Perhaps he hears everything you say, 
 Edith," said Gertrude. 
 
 " Now then, Gertrude; there you go again. 
 I beg you will not begin any of that vulgar 
 joking with me about a man I have seen 
 but once in my life." 
 
 " Three times, Edith. Besides, dear," 
 continued Gertrude, unheeding the rebuke,
 
 A MINGLED YARN. 311 
 
 " once is sometimes as good as a hundred 
 times. I do believe in love at first sight. I 
 know Katie Pao^ett told me that she saw 
 her husband for the first time at a fancy 
 fair; never even spoke to him, but vowed 
 she would never marry any other man ; and 
 she married him six years after — there, 
 now." 
 
 " Lily darling, what's the matter ? " 
 " Nothing much ; I'm so warm. I shall 
 go in the garden a little Avhile." 
 ** Do ; shall I come with you?" 
 *' Oh, no ! thank you. I shall only go for 
 a little while with my book under the trees, 
 till the dressinof o-onof sfoes." 
 
 Mistress- Medlicott had been lying back 
 in her chair, with half closed eyes, as if 
 asleep, whilst the young ones had been 
 talking — Prescott's visit always made her 
 thoughtful — but she had heard the few last
 
 312 A MINGLED YARN. 
 
 words, and liad looked earnestly at Lilian, 
 and noted the sudden change of her face. 
 She rose a few moments after, and walking 
 through the conservatory, passed on into 
 the garden, and joined Lilian under the 
 limes. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY WM. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMI ORD STREEV, 
 AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 i