1TB R.ARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS H 00^90 V.I ONCE FOE ALL, VOL. L LONDON : pbinted by gilbert and bivington, limitbd, st. johh's squabe. ONCE EOE ALL $ §foM. BY MAX HILLARY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. Hontton : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 1885. [All rights reserved.'] r* HX3 rissu ONCE FOE ALL CHAPTER I. " The houses that the grave-maker makes, last till Doomsday." Shakespeare. It was what they call in that part of the country a " clour " day. The brows of the sky were clouded, and heavy drops of rain had fallen at intervals during the forenoon. There was a wind which moaned piteously. It was the very day for a funeral, for people have such ink- lings of Godhead in them, that they often think all Nature should be changed by their mood; that the sun should vol. 1. B 2 ONCE FOR ALL. be veiled when they close their eyes, and that when their hearts are unmusical the birds should not sing. But Nature does not always wear our livery. There was a funeral that day. The churchyard at Inverkeith is a pretty spot, and lies in the very centre of the town. Some tall trees grow in it, and seem to guard the graves that lie about their roots, by their stretched-out arms. That day there were many groups of spectators sprinkled here and there over the uneven surface and rough tangled grass of the churchyard. Some event of more than usual importance was upon the tapis of time. Those persons who had come to the churchyard, and who stood in little knots here and there, con- versed in whispers. The occasion was such that it demanded some conversation, yet the place was sacred with cast-off dust, and it was necessary to acknowledge that ONCE FOR ALL. 3 fact by solemnity of manner and bated breath. " I'se warrant," said Andrew Flint, who was the centre of a group of some five or six people who stood not far from the church door. " I'se warrant that Robert Graham '11 hae left mair than that ; he was a canny man, and guided his gear weel ; I mind the time when he was in a sma' way, wi' a wee shop in the back street, and noo he'll have as decent a funeral as old Sir Lawrence himsel'." " He has a' that this world can gi' him, but that canna keep the breath in his body," said a tall, severe-looking woman who wore a " front " of brown hair from beneath which some silver- white locks made their appearance. " Moth and rust," put in a little man, who, if he had not added a cubit to his stature, had certainly made the most of his b 2 4 ONCE FOR ALL. height, for he always seemed to be standing on tiptoe and craning his neck. " Moth and rust," he repeated 1 ; " it's quite true, as Abraham said, they that in this life receive their good things, shall lie in the next world with terrible thirst, and not a drop of water to quench it ; while they that are beggars here and full of sores, shall lie snug in Abraham's bosom." " Quite true," said the tall woman, who felt considerable satisfaction in adding the weight of her opinion in confirmation of that of Abraham, and who at the same time was fully impressed with the con- solatory nature of the creed that had just been alluded to by Mr. Weir. " Quite true, Mr. Weir, that's the meaning of the camel and the eye of the needle ; but as for a hundred thousand pounds, I don't believe that. I wouldn't wonder if it turned out that he had left nothing at all. ONCE FOR ALL. D There was Mr. Heron, folks said he was as rich as Croesus, and there wasn't enough to give wine and cake all round to them as went to the funeral." " There will be a hantle o' folk to follow Mr. Graham to his last resting-place," said the man who was the centre of the group, " and many o' them ought to be ashamed o' themselves. Cats and dogs couldn't 'gree worse than he did with his relations. It was flint and steel, I'se warrant, when they met, but now they'll be here as soft as a thaw." " It's a wonder how folk '11 forgive," said the tall woman, " when there's a will to be read." " It wasn't Robert's fault, I ken that," said a plethoric man, whose words were • wheezy. " I knew him when he was a boy, and I've known him pretty well ever since. He was more sinned against than sinning, 6 ONCE FOE ALL. but the best are taken. Look at Duncan Graharu," lie said, with more vehemence, " he would fight with a shadow, and skin a flint." This complicated metaphor seemed to be understood and appreciated by his audience. Mrs. Aitken, the tall woman with the severe religious sentiments and wig, was on the alert to say something derogatory of Duncan Graham, but the little man was more agile of tongue, and remarked in a rapid whisper, " He ! he's a fire-brand, and as hard as nails. It's said he cheated his father out of the mill, and I wouldn't gi' that " (here he snapped his fingers signifi- cantly) " for his chance o' heaven. I hae mair opinion of the Almighty's discreemina- tion, nor to think that siccan an ane could sit in the company o' decent saints." " My word," said the wheezy man, " but ye dinna seem to be in a very Christian OXCE FOE ALL. ' spirit yersei', David. What gars ye think sae ill o' Duncan ? I reckon ye hae some auld grudge against him, and ye work it waur and waur into your spirit by fidgetin'. But here comes the hearse." As he spoke the hearse had reached the gate of the churchyard, and some men in dingy black were fumbling at the back of it. Several of the mourners had stepped from the carriages which followed the plume-surmounted vehicle assigned to the clay, and stood with solemn faces about the undertakers, who were endeavouring to find an entrance to the sable cavity of the hearse. As the master-undertaker had partaken too liberally of some intoxicating beverage before leaving the residence of the deceased, the operation he was endea- vouring to effect was somewhat difficult, but at last he succeeded in finding the keyhole, and after that bis very un- 8 ONCE FOB ALL. steadiness conduced to the discovery of the mystery of the crazy lock. The cor- tege, a long procession of men, whose faces wore a funereal expression — that is an expression where the outward signs of grief are badly simulated by actors who know not woe — moved slowly through the churchyard, towards the southern corner, where, under a wide-branching tree, a grave had been dug. The little groups of gossipers had come closer to the path by which the procession was about to pass, and some of the better-informed amongst them were glad to indicate by gestures and loud whispers any of the " notabili- ties " who followed the remains of Robert Graham to the grave. There are few occasions that are not food for gossip. But the coffin was at the edge of the grave, the mourners took off their hats. Some faces had decent grief upon them, ONCE FOR ALL. y worn like a lackey's suit ; others wore constrained graveness, wliich looked rather like a strait- waistcoat of the muscles of the face. There was a tattoo of stones upon the coffin-lid, and then those who had been standing hat in hand, replaced their hats on their heads, and turned from the place. The spectators began to disperse; they had not seen much, but still in a little country-town the burial of a rich man is an event of some importance, and will afford the raw material for conversation over tea-tables for some weeks to come. But although the business of the day was over for many, it was only commencing for some. The brothers of the deceased stood at the entrance to the churchyard, and conversed in undertones ; they showed that deference to the place. It was the eldest who spoke. " Well, good day. I have nothing to 10 ONCE FOR ALL. expect. You may go to the reading of the will, if you like. I have shown all the respect I could by following the body to the grave, that is what I came for, and now I am going home." Gilbert Graham, who spoke, was a hand- some man, with large features and a clear voice. He was a man whose face impressed one favourably of his business capacity ; it was not incisive, but bluff and honest. His intelligence was more like a mallet than a knife. The man he spoke to had a fine face. He looked thoroughly refined. If one might judge of his character or his intelligence from his face, one would have said that he had a wit like a needle, which would get through the threads of any subject. There was, too, a gentleness and a sweetness about his face which impressed one favourably at first, but which left a ONCE FOR ALL. 11 sort of sub-acid taste on the palate of memory. His voice when he spoke was soft like a glove. " I don't know," Duncan said, " that one can show much respect, Gilbert, by anything which does not spring from the heart. As to the reading of the will, I shall go as a duty. . I do not expect to be a winner by my brother's death, any more than you do. I do not go to Faldoon because I expect to come away a richer man, but as a duty." " Bah ! you always did your duty, Duncan, when it would pay. You expect to be poor Eobert's heir. You've been working for it for years, working by cring- ing and wriggling, and now you pretend to go as a duty. I wonder men are hypocrites when they know they are seen through. The lapwing would give up flying with a halt if it knew that it deceived nobody. 12 ONCE FOR ALL. It's a bad job, Duncan, when the halt has got into the character. I congratulate you beforehand. Robert's money will be in worse hands now." " Well," said Duncan, " I don't want to quarrel. I am the only member of my family that cares for peace." " The only coward," muttered Gilbert. So the brothers parted. Duncan returned to Faldoon with many of those persons who were interested in Mr. Robert Graham's will, while Gilbert went to his inn, and there, with closed door, he lay upon his bed and wept. It was not by Duncan's words that his spirit had been touched to tears, but old days when Robert and he had been boys together, and real love had been between the twain, came up before him, and in the presence of these bright visions the poor present seemed pale and sickly. To-day, to that ONCE FOB ALL. 13 grown man seemed empty, while that long- gone yesterday seemed to come laden through the sea of memory from the very Indies of the universe. Joys re- membered have stings, yesterdays would kill us if we had not to-morrows. 14 ONCE FOR ALL. CHAPTER II. " There is a kind of mournful eloquence In thy dumb grief, which shames all clam'rous sorrow." Faldoon was the prettiest place in the neighbourhood of Inverkeith. Of course tastes differ. Some people will not be satisfied if their windows do not open upon wide stretches of country and large depths of blue sky, while others will be content with an outlook into the leafy shade of some fine trees, and some quiet flowers which grow in their shade. But Faldoon would have satisfied both of these tastes. The windows in front looked to a distant west, over a wide stretch of broken land, with here and there pleasant, flowery ONCE FOR ALL. 15 fields, here and there woods and farms, and besides all, a smooth-faced river. But the windows which looked in the other direction saw nothing but grand, gnarled trees with their lofty branches, and beyond and above them a high, towering hill, here green with pasture, there yellow with gorse, and in other places shaggy with woods. It was a large house, but that day one of its largest rooms was almost filled with people. Actual business had not com- menced. Some of the people who felt confident that they would be mentioned in the will, sat silent and looked sorrowful. Occasionally, one of those present would raise a handkerchief, and brush it across his eyes. It was pleasant to see that a man who had been somewhat alone in the world, who had failed to find sympathy with the better and higher part of his nature while he was on earth, and 16 ONCE FOR ALL. who had consequently yielded to the temptations of that world in which he lived, that flesh in which he moved, and that devil which moved in him, and had sought the sympathy of flesh, had attained that common feeling which is necessary to the existence of the human mind, but had found it in relation to the lowest and basest part of his nature, — it was strange, it was even consoling, to find that such a man had so many friends. Ah ! there was much grief there ! Old Mrs. Ramsay, who had married a handsome man in her youth, when she herself had the large animal beauty of a woman, but who now was wrinkled in face, shrill in voice, and paltry in manner, — Mrs. Ramsay, who was once upon a time Miss Graham, and a sister of the man who was that day laid in the earth, remarked with a shrill whimper, — " Eobert was my favourite brother. I ONCE FOR ALL. 17 can't help my feelings. Dear, dear ! I only wish it had seemed best to the Almighty to take me and leave him ! Poor Robert ! boo, hoo ! " " Don't break down, Elizabeth ! " said her husband, whose hopefulness would not allow him to feign grief so well as his wife, but who thought that the occasion demanded some fine feeling, and so de- termined to appear in the character of a good husband for the nonce. " Don't break down ! All these things are for the best." " Of course they are ! " said a sharp - featured woman, a Mrs. Gibson, who heard this pious exclamation with refer- ence to the works of Providence. " Of course they are. God knows a deal better nor we do ; that's always what I say when I hear people repining against the dispen- sations. Perhaps if he hadn't been taken vol. i. o 18 ONCE FOR ALL. away sudden, lie might ha' had a long illness, and might ha' required warm fomentations for weeks and weeks together, as Mr. Gibson did. Not that I grudged the trouble, although I had to go down- stairs every time, for there was no fire- place in his room, and had often to go down at other times to see that the kitchen- fire was good. No, I never complained ; I'll say that for myself. I did my duty by him, and if he was here at this moment, he would tell you the same thing. But now Mr. Graham might ha' had an illness like that, and might ha' cried out wi' pain in the night-time, and kept all the people awake; but, as I always say, everything happens for the best. Here he's been taken away, and been spared great pain and suffering." "Well, there's one thing makes me feel more resigned," said Mrs. Ramsay, ONCE FOR ALL. 19 " and that is, that lie wanted for nothing. It's not like a poor man that dies, and has to be bnried in a deal coffin. No ! his was of the very best. And as for the jelly he took when he was ill, Mary told me that it was all she could do to make enough. But she did make enough, thank God ! " " Now that is funny," said Mrs. Gibson. " That was so like Mr. Gibson. He must have jelly ; and the number of calves' feet I had from the flesher's was enormous. And I made it all with my own hands." " But," put in Mrs. Ramsay, who had not completed what she desired to say. " But it is some satisfaction to think that he wanted for nothing, not even for jelly. And Mary says that the minister was here just at the last, and that poor Robert was as humble as any Christian need be!" c 2 20 ONCE FOR ALL. " Then you weren't here at the end, Mrs. Ramsay?" " No. I never thought Robert was dying, but I won't forgive myself for that until my dying day. To think that he should be all alone when he died ! " Mrs. Ramsay showed a strong inclination to indulge in prolonged sobs for a second time, but her curiosity was excited for an instant by the opening of the door, and then she forgot to finish with her grief. " Was the poor man left to die by himself?" asked Mrs. Gibson, with an implied censure in her voice. It was, doubtless, meant to impress her hearers with the belief that Mr. Gibson had not been left to die in that lonely fashion. And, perhaps, if he had, he would not have died. " No ; he had Mary with him, and Mr, Newsome." ONCE FOE ALL. 21 "Mr. Newsome, the lawyer?" asked Mrs. Gibson, with, increased interest. She was distantly connected with the family, and might expect a legacy. "Yes, Mr. Newsome, the lawyer," remarked Mr. Ramsay. " He had only just arrived. Poor Robert — I was always very friendly with Robert — had just sent for him. He meant to acid a codicil, poor man. He was a man I liked, a hot- tempered man, I always said that. You have heard me say that, Elizabeth. But, notwithstanding his temper, he was a kind man. Just before his death, he said to me, 6 Ramsay ' (he always called me Ramsay), c I haven't hit it off with some of my relations, but I don't think it was altogether my fault. I think — ' but then he mentioned some names, and I'm not the man to make dispeace between the living and the dead, so I won't mention them; 22 ONCE FOR ALL. but he said, ' Ramsay, it isn't much that is in my power, but those that have been kind to me will find that they haven't lost by it.' I always liked Robert." " He didn't like you, Ramsay," said a man whose eyes were very close together, and whose forehead shelved like a sea- shore. " I have heard him often say that those were blessed who did not expect anything. If there was one thing he hated, it was greed." "What do you mean?" asked Mr. Ramsay, in a louder voice than was perhaps decorous ; but the question was not answered, as the door opened, and the lawyer entered the room, followed by Duncan Graham, and the little man with the crowded eyes slunk away to get near the place where the lawyer, Mr. Newsome, was about to take his seat. Then there fell ONCE FOft ALL. 23 a silence on all. Every face was eager, every ear was bent. One man had his hand up to his ear ; others bent forward on their chairs, and some continued their elegant signs of grief, and sniffed as if the tears were running down their " poor noses.' ' The silence was broken by Mr. Newsome, who said, — " I think that it may be just as well to explain in a few words what I regard as the gist of the late Mr. Graham's will. After having done so, I shall read the testament itself, which is very short and sufficiently explicit. But as I understand it to be the wish of some of those present that I should explain the actual effect of this instrument before I read it, I shall say shortly what I believe will be found to be the disposition of the property. As I said, it is very short, and there are very few names mentioned in it. Mr. 24 ONCE FOR ALL. Gilbert Graham and Mr. Duncan Graham, both brothers of the testator, are ap- pointed trustees and executors. There are directions that the funeral and tes- tamentary expenses of the deceased be paid, and the whole of his heritable and movable property is left to Miss Yetta Graham, niece of the testator, an infant under the age of twenty-one years. There are no legacies, and no codicils." Mr. Newsome ceased speaking, and laid his hand on a bundle of papers which lay beside him. The silence continued for a few seconds, and then Duncan Graham said, — " To Yetta Graham ? Nonsense ! she is a child. Robert must have been mad, he had quarrelled with and would not speak to her father. No legacies ? That cannot be his will. I won't believe it ! " He spoke hurriedly, excitedly, his cheeks ONCE FOR ALL. 25 were flushed, and his speech thick with passion. " D me," said Mr. Ranisay, as he rose from his seat and tugged at the little pieces of cambric mourning (called " weepers "), which were round the sleeves of his coat. " D me, but it's too bad ! I've put up with his cursed ways for years, and this is how one is rewarded. He doesn't mention his own sister in the will, and leaves it all to a brat of a niece he has never seen." By this time he had succeeded in detaching the weepers, and having crushed and crumpled them in his hand, he flung them from him, and set himself to remove the other sign of mourning, the hat-band from his hat. There was a confused murmur all around the room. It was not a murmur of grief, but a hum of business. There were no wet 26 ONCE FOR ALL. eyes now. All were dry, and many were angry. There was no longer any decent acting of sorrow. "I'll dispute the will," Duncan Graham said. "Robert was mad; I can prove it!" " I wouldn't have minded," said the widow of the late Mr. Gibson, " if he had just left me enough to buy a memento, but I've been to see him every fortnight ever since I came to Inverkeith, and I made some marmalade with my own bands, and bought this dress on purpose for his death." " You might have spared yourself the trouble," said another ; " ingratitude is the way of the world, Mrs. Gibson." " Let us hear the will," cried Mrs. Ramsay, in a loud, clear voice. " I don't trust lawyers further than I see them!" ONCE FOR ALL. 27 There were more niurmurings ; each had some complaint to make against the deceased, each had some accusation to make against his poor character. Before the announcement as to the purport of the will, each expectant legatee had some pity in him or her for the sad death ; each remembered all the good qualities of Robert Graham, now gone to his account. After the announcement had been made, there was no pity left, and the deceased seemed to have no good qualities at all which any one could remember. Duncan Graham sat there, biting his nails, and looking round almost stupidly upon those about him. All his grace of expression was gone, his art of smiling had deserted him, and baulked greed and ngly anger were written legibly on his face. He sat there 28 ONCE FOR ALL. stunned, disappointed, angry, full of hate, and most of those about him seemed to participate in these ungainly feelings. It was as ugly a group of human beings as could well be imagined. " Yes, read the will," was repeated on all sides. " Read the will," Duncan said, as he drew his brows together into an uglier frown. So the will was read. ONCE FOR ALL. 29 CHAPTER III. " His soul's a kite which catches some high wind Unseen of us. The man is something more Or less than man." The announcement as to the contents of the will, and the story of the events which had taken place at the reading of it, caused considerable excitement in Inverkeith. The people, so far as intellectual life was concerned, lived on gossip, and such infor- mation was a kind of bonne louche. Mrs. Ramsay's conduct was variously reported, variously censured, and variously com- mented on. But the general feeling was one of decided satisfaction that Duncan Graham should have been disappointed. 30 ONCE FOB ALL. A good many little private spites were gratified by the fact that expectant legatees had expected in vain. Still public opinion went mainly in the direction of curiosity, and that centred mostly in Yetta Graham, to whom all Mr. Graham's property had been left. The rising sun is always an object of interest. No one in Inverkeith had ever seen her, and very few knew anything about her. Her father, Herbert Graham, had, unlike his brothers, been an unsuccess- ful man, and had left his native town many years before, and had never returned to it. People are content to lose sight of the un- successful. Some had heard, however, that he had gone to London, that he had married, that he had one child, that he had been almost as unsuccessful in the south as he had been in the north, and subse- quently it became known that he was dead ONCE FOR ALL. 31 and had left his widow in straitened circumstances. That was a good reason, perhaps, for not inquiring further. There was little else known of Yetta Graham or her mother in Inverkeith, until the events alluded to in the last chap- ter directed public attention somewhat earnestly upon them. Now, however, these meagre facts were carefully can- vassed, surmises eked out the facts. Many people, without any information, hazarded opinions as to Mrs. Graham and her daughter, as to their being nice or nasty, as to their birth and education, as to their bearing towards the people of Inverkeith, and as to various other matters. There is no field for imagination but the unknown. In Mr. Ramsay's house surmises were numerous. That gentleman was still suffering from the effects of his disap- 32 ONCE FOE. ALL. pointment, which showed itself in irrita- bility of temper, and profane swearing. «D it," he would say; " I did calculate on this money, and I lent him 200Z. at one time, and wouldn't take interest, all because I thought it would be better for me in the end, and now I've lost it all. And I put up with all his cursed ways, and he had a temper like a fiend, and all for nothing ! I wish he was alive again, that I might have it out with him. And all the money goes to that brat of a child, and precious little good it will do her. I believe her mother is a common — " But before he finished his sentence, he was interrupted by his wife, who, although still angry with the dead, and finding disappointment in the past, could afford to forgive the living with a view to the discovery of consolation in the future. " Don't say that," she remarked in her OXCE FOR ALL. 33 paltry way. " I am disappointed, I cannot deny that, but I always liked Robert better than any of my brothers, and I daresay what he has done, he has done for the best. He may have known more about Herbert's wife than we do, and as for the reports about her, I believe it was Duncan set them on foot, to excuse himself for never having asked after her. I never did believe them, and I never will. I daresay she is a very nice person, and whatever she is, she is poor Herbert's widow, and her daughter is his child. And I know what I mean to do, and that is, I mean to be the very first to call on her. I only wish we had thought of asking her to come and stay with us last year — of course she would not have come, — but it's too late now." " You can tell her we meant to ask her down, but that the death of my Uncle VOL. I. D 34 ONCE FOR ALL. Mansel prevented us ; that is, if you want to toady her — I don't." Conversations" such as that were taking place in more than one household before the arrival of Mrs. Graham at Ealdoon, which was delayed for some months after the death of her brother-in-law. One day Robert Ardwell was walking slowly along the road which leads from Craigsbrook to Inverkeith, and which passes Faldoon on the right-hand side behind the Whinstane brae, about a mile from the town. He was humming a tune to himself as he walked along, and drinking in the bright sunshine, and all it brought with it, and everything he saw was a kind of exquisite joy to him. He was in many respects peculiar. He was as unlike the modern young man as it is possible for a young man to be. Most of our young men act despicably from the ONCE FOR ALL. 35 highest and noblest principles. Robert Ardwell had no principles, yet he acted nobly. He was not constantly analyzing every sensation and feeling and thought. He was content to feel and think. He had not become mentally dyspeptic, but could digest pleasure and pain. He differed in another respect from his fellows. He did not care for money ; he had a small income, and he did not desire to make it more. He was the organist to the chapel in Inverkeith, and yet he was the cousin of a baronet. Some people thought he must be mad, but he was quite sane — very sane. That day he was more than usually happy. It may have been the bright sunlight that was here and there spotted with brighter butterflies, or the green fields which had their blades of grass sheathed in dew, or the leafy woods which whispered to the wind, which made him happy. Any man d 2 3() ONCE FOR ALL. of to-day would have despised this youth, who wore his hair long, aud lived in the ideal. He was standing in the highway, with his hat in his hand, and gazing over a near hedge which was blossoming with May. His eyes were fixed on a white sail on the green sea away to the west, and wild romances were in his head. He was not dreaming of going into Parliament, he was not dreaming of having a large house and many servants, of those things which are the hopes of youths in these our practical days ; he was framing some strange Utopian theories about love and happiness, and then humming some soft air, which showed that the youth was thoroughly unpractical — a man not made for the rough days on which his lot had fallen. As he stood there, there was a halloo, and a shout. — ONCE FOR ALL. 37 " Get out of the gate ! " from the driver of a carriage, the horses of which were close to him. " I beg your pardon," he said, as he stepped to one side, and the carriage passed him. As it did so, he saw a girl's face at the open window, and a girl's beautiful eyes looking at him, and that was all, for the carriage had gone. He put on his hat, blushing, and thought, " What a fool I must have seemed ! Men of sense do not stand in the high-road till they are almost run over. Men of sense don't stand bare-headed in the public way. Well, I suppose I am a fool, but sometimes I think I would not exchange my folly for a good deal of worldly wisdom." He walked back towards Inverkeith, but the romances were not turned out of his head by the jeopardy in which lie had been 38 ONCE FOR ALL. placed. He mixed up his dreams with reality, and the princesses of his fairy tales had all faces like that which he had seen at the carriage window, and all looked at him with eyes like those which had gazed at him in the road. He sat down to what his landlady called a dinner-tea ; he never had any dinner, and the facts of this homely meal did not dislodge the fictions from his head. After the meal was over, he went to the piano, which was in the room, and played upon it. It was not ordinary music, it seemed like love. When one heard him play, one was conscious of sympathy in the universe ; when he ceased, the vague sympathy was taken away, and one felt lonely. Mrs. Flint, his landlady, had been a convert to this music. When first he became her lodger, she was pre- judiced against him. She was a staunch Presbyterian, and was naturally suspicious ONCE FOR ALL. 39 of a young man who belonged to the heretical body of Episcopalians (as they were invariably called), and played the organ at the chapel. And, indeed, her faith and her interest had struggled within her in the first instance, as to whether she should let the rooms to a " Prelatist ;" and it was only by charging two shillings a week more than she had ever done before that she was able to satisfy the doubts of her conscience, and at the same time secure a good tenant. Still, her prejudice was rigid against her lodger, until one day she heard him play, and then she stood with a plate in one hand and a knife in the other, keeping time to the tune. Then, as it changed to a grave, weeping tune, every note of which seemed to be in tears, her eyes filled, and she was only recalled to herself by the breakage of the plate, which she had dropped. 40 ONCE FOR ALL. But it was not the music only which had uprooted Mrs. Flint's prejudice. She was a woman, and had Mr. Ardwell disputed any of the items in the first week's bill, she would have continued to charge him at the same rate as long as he continued in her house. But Mr. Ardwell never looked at the bill, except to ascertain the gross amount, and paid it without saying a word. After that Mrs. Flint saw that, although he never inquired into the accuracy of her accounts, or tried to beat her down, he still was far from rich, and had to forego many things, because they were too ex- pensive. And these things touched her woman's heart ; and so the week before that upon which we saw Robert Ardwell upon the high-road, Mrs. Flint had announced to her lodger that she thought of reducing the rent, and she did actually charge him ONCE FOR ALL. 41 two shillings a week less for the future. The significance of such a fact in form- ing an estimate of Mrs. Flint's character cannot be exaggerated. Upon the evening in question, as Robert Ardwell played upon the piano, Mrs. Flint entered the room to clear the table. She lifted the plates and cups without any sound, but still the musician became aware of her presence, and, turning towards her, said, — " Mrs. Flint, I want you to tell me something. You have lived so long in the neighbourhood that you know everybody, and I want you to tell me the nam£ of an angel I saw to-day." " 'Deed, sir, it's nae qualification for the identification o' angels to hae lived in this place for mony a year." i The young man smiled, but said, — 42 ONOE FOR ALL. " Never mind, I didn't mean a real angel, but an angel in real life, a veritable flesh and blood angel/' " Gude guide us, Mr. Ardwell ; but where did ye meet this queen ? " " That was just what I was going to tell you, Mrs. Flint. You are sure to know who she is, and what she is. You know Craigsbrook ? " " Aye, gie weel. My husband was born at Craigsbrook, and mony's the time I hae been there. It's a bonnie place, Craigsbrook, a wee bittie clachan, or what ye would ca' a village, among the hills. There's a bonnie whimp- ling burn o' clear water runs bickering down past it, and auld Mr. Flint, that's my gudeman's father, lives in a wee bit housie just abune the burn. Ye'll ken it by the braw roses that grow at the ONCE FOR ALL. 43 end o't, and by the little garden afore the door." " I know the village, bnt it was not of it I meant to speak. I was walking towards Inverkeith from Barnend, which is, as you know, upon the Craigsbrook road, and was just at the place where the road, after surmounting the hill, begins to descend into the valley — it is not more than three-quarters of a mile from Inver- keith — when I was passed by some one in a carriage, and she was beautiful ! I don't know whether there was any one with her or not — all I saw was her face and eyes. They did not seem to rest upon mine, they seemed to search into me." At this instant he broke off, and turned to the instrument, and seemed to draw from it some plaintive confession, and then it wailed, and suddenly it burst into a 44 ONCE FOB ALL. laughter-like tune, and then it ceased. Mrs. Flint was impressed. " Ye are a bonny player, and gin ye were dumb, ye could gar they bits o' ivory speak for ye. But if it's about the leddy ye want to ken, I'm fair puzzled. Maybe Andrew would ken, but I dinna ken a soul living out foreby Faldoon that would answer to your description. There are nane o' the county families out that way. And that's nae gate for folk wha come to see the castle and the abbey and the auld camp. I'm at a loss, Mr. Ardwell; but I'll speer at Andrew. Andrew's a man wi' a gleg e'e for a' the new-comers." There was a pause, and then she added, " My certes, it's mebbe the new folk" that hae come to Faldoon ! I tell't ye that a' Mr. Graham's property had been willed away to his niece wi' a funny name ; and I 01s CE FOR ALL. 45 tell't ye o' the way that some o' the gentry gaed on at the funeral. Weel, I'se warrant it may be just Miss Graham that's come to take possession o' her property. Did ye see what she were like, forbye being an angel ? " But Robert Ardwell could not give such a description as would enable Mrs. Flint to recognize a family likeness, and she went away to ask her husband if he had heard of Mrs. Graham's arrival. When she returned with Robert Ard- well's frugal supper, she announced with evident satisfaction that " she did believe it must just hae been Miss Graham that Mr. Ardwell had seen, for Andrew said that he had seen ane o' the men from the station, wha said that the folk for Faldoon had come, and there was na' ifcher body would gang out that way." Having said this, she 46 ONCE FOB ALL. went away, and Robert Ard well was left to dream until he went to bed, and even then the impressions of the day followed him into his sleep. ONCE FOR ALL. 47 CHAPTER IV. " A chance word, sirs, a chance word is like a spark; let it into the magazine of mind, and the roof will go sky-high." All in the Downs. It was the Grahams who had arrived at Faldoon. All the sunshine and beauty could not reconcile Yetta to the change. True, it was a change for the better, a change from penury to wealth, from squalor to luxury, from ugliness to beauty. And yet all these prospective blessings did nob reconcile her to her new position. She would rather have remained in the little cottage in the south ; she would rather have mended her old gloves over and over again ; she 48 ONCE FOR ALL. would rather have gone on with her broken china, the cups without handles, the covers without knobs, the spare meals, the half-carpeted floors. When she was within the house, and the door of her own room was shut upon her and her mother, she put her arms round her mother's neck, and wept, as she said, — " I would rather go back to the Grove ; everything seems cold and dull here. I wish uncle had left his money to some one else." Mrs. Graham saw that arguments would, under the circumstances, be out of place, and so she let the girl have her cry out, and then went to speak to the servants. The domestics, of course, had formed very decided opinions concerning their new mistress upon the most indefinite evidence. A very vague report had been ONCE FOR ALL. 49 sufficient to induce them to come to a conclusion as to Mrs. Graham, which the first interview proved to be incorrect. The j had made up their minds that she was a person of low birth, and, like many- other persons who from an inferior are called upon to occupy a superior position, that she would probably turn out either a tyrant or a dupe. In both of these expectations they were disappointed. She showed some capacity to command ; she was not tyrannical, and she was not familiar; she fell into neither extreme. But she was self-possessed, and gently firm, and when her interview with the servants was over, she had impressed them with the belief that at any rate she was a lady. Meanwhile Yetta Graham had gone out into the open air, thinking that at least the trees and grass would remind her of her old home, and she had VOL. i. e 50 ONCH FOR ALL. wandered away down an avenue of shaven lawn under murmurous lime-trees, for the bees were at work, and had come to the King's View. There was a tradition about that place. It was an aerial pro- montory which stood out into the air, supported by a bluff, bare cliff above the lower land, and it was said that a king — but tradition had become inaccurate and could not say which — had come to this very place to see this very view. And well he might, and a very small man the king would feel himself in the presence of that great face of nature. Below, a green country sloped with many undulations to the sea. In the gentle valleys and on the lawny slopes houses stood, surrounded by grand old trees, and here and there on the swelling land cottages stood in clusters. Lower down upon the shore a little town lay close upon the sea, with its piers ONCE FOR ALL. 51 3tretclied like human arms about its nursling ships. As Yetta stood there on that early summer night, the sea seemed to be covered with a million fallen lights, and lay still and bright under a broad streak of glory, which stretched to where the sun went down in a clear yellow sky. There was little sound, but she could now and then hear the shrill song of some bird from the thickets beneath, and her ears thought they could hear the quiet, low murmur of the mumbling sea. Shadows were becoming longer and longer, and darker and darker, and sharp stars began to pierce the thread-bare light of the east. She stood there upon the narrow peak, looking out upon the scene which lay beneath, and watching the fading day. Lights from the valley here and there pricked the darkness, and she mused as e 2 *" tii jo n Z ONCE FOR ALL. to the lives these little lights [shone upon. But it was almost dark when she turned to go back into the house, and she felt afraid in this strange land. She retraced her steps up the broad, grassy avenue under the lime-trees, until she could see the lights shine from some of the long windows of the house, and these for a time seemed friendly signs, until she saw a shadow pass between her and the light, and close upon the first another followed. Yetta was at first frightened, and then she thought it must be some of the servants, and she went on boldly, until she came close to the stair which led up from the rose-garden to the terrace upon which the house stood. Then she heard voices, and they sounded so close to her that she stood still. Standing, while her heart beat painfully against her breast, she heard these words, — ONCE FOR ALL. 53 "No, I must be honest. I don't love you. I suppose I once did, but one finds out that love is not eternal, and God knows that is bad enough. One discovers that the excellent blindness which cannot see faults, passes away, the light shines, and one shudders. I know that I have no right to ask you to absolve me from my promise. I will keep my word. I shall try to be as kind as love would have made me. But it would be unfair to lie to you, and say I loved you still." Another voice said, — " You love some one else, I suppose ? " And the first voice, a firm voice, answered, — " No, I do not ; but I have ceased to love you. It is not your fault. I hope it is not mine. I have been away, and have seen so much, that I come back different. I am not the man, or boy, I 54 ONCE FOR ALL. was when I went hence, and — but I tell you I shall keep my promise. I still respect you, although I cannot love you." But Yetta started; she felt she had been eaves-dropping, listening to some- thing she was not meant to hear. She blushed in the darkness, and with light steps she ran round to the stone stairs which led from the terrace to the garden, and gained one of the side-doors which opened into the house. Her mother was in the smaller drawing-room, and she sat down on a low seat beside her, and played with the strings of her hat, and then rested her head on her mother's knee, gazed into the fire, and wondered who it was that had spoken close to the terrace just outside. At last she came to the conclu- sion that it must be the youth with the long hair and handsome face that they had passed on the road between Inver- ONCE FOR ALL. 55 keith and Faldoon that day. He seemed pre-occupiecl, the coachman Lad to stop the horses, that they might not trample on him ; was he the man that had ceased to love, and yet would keep his promise ? " It must be he/' she said aloud. " Who ? " asked her mother, laying her hand on Yetta's head. But she did not answer, and felt sadder that night than she would have done, had it only been the thoughts of her old home that had been living in her. 56 ONCE FOE ALL. CHAPTER V. " For music is a trembling of the soul, Which is embodied in the trembling air." "How old are you?" asked Yetta, as she took the boy's hand, and looked into his blue eyes. "I am past seventeen," he answered, and there was some pride in his voice, as if seventeen years had been an accomplish- ment. " Past seventeen ? Then I am ever so much older than you are. I was in the world quite a long time before you were born, and I shall be out of it long before you die." " I hope not," he answered, with a somewhat rueful countenance. ONCE FOR ALL. 57 "Why not?" " I don't know, but I should like to die first." Then there was a pause, and Yetta dropped his hand, and he looked at her as if he was going to cry, and said, — " Are you angry ? " And she laughed, and said, " No." It was a pleasant laugh, and rippled into one's ears most musically. " Then why did you drop my hand ? " " You must not ask such questions; a sudden thought struck me, and — and — I thought it best not to hold it." " Then you are angry ? " " No, I am not; only I did not think you were so old. You are almost a man." " Well ? " " Well — don't ask questions." They walked on through the clover-field, 58 ONCE FOR ALL. which was frequented by many murmuring bees, which sang over their work, and then down by the tall hedge and into the wood which grew on the steep bank above the house. This was the first day of Bernard Winn's visit, and he and Yetta had wan- dered up the hills which rose above Faldoon, and were now returning to the house. He was only a boy, and she was by this time almost a woman. The delicate beauty of her face, the gentle curves of her form, the quiet grace of her manner, all indicated that she had passed out of life's nursery, and had found there were other things in the world besides toys — that the world was a serious business, not a game. Yet she was not grave, she was not melancholy. She set to work, not to attain any goal of perfection, but to do good. The boy was away from school on a holiday. He was ONCE FOR ALL. 59 a boy ! delighting in feats of courage and daring. When they were close to the house, he spoke again, — " Miss Graham, we are cousins, are we not?" " Yes, " answered Yetta, " Well, would you mind my calling you Yetta ? " There was more petition in his tone than in his words. Yetta looked at him and smiled. She was thinking that he was a boy, and she said, — " No, you can call me Yetta, if you like. I don't like ' Miss Graham,' and, besides, names don't matter. I shall call you Ber- nard. Now I'll run you a race to the house." She started and ran, and he followed her ; he did not care to overtake her, but put himself into true running shape, and pretended to be making prodigious efforts to overtake her. Of course she reached 60 ONCE FOE ALL. the terrace first, and flushed and breathless she stood there and said, — " Oh, you let me win the race, that wasn't fair ! " The boy felt proud of the renunciation of the triumph. The next day was Sunday. It was one of those bright, blue-roofed days that larks go up in, and yet every now and then there was a shower of rain that hissed along the ground as it fell, and made all the song- birds, whether in the heavens or in the fra- grant hedges, hold their peace. The air was full of the keen, sweet smell of the moistened earth, and every little blade of grass had a bead of brightness at its point, which shone and glistened in the light. Mrs. Graham, out of deference to the pre- judices of the Scotch people about her, had determined to walk to church. Indeed, the coachman had led her to understand that ONCE FOR ALL. 61 she must do so, remarking, after informing her of the various good and bad qualities of the horses, that " he was averse to their being worked over-hard, and gied them the benefit o' the hail Sabbath-day, seeing that the fourth commandment had been impera- tive about the ox and the ass ; and he took upon himself to interpret the meaning of that commandment to be that the horse, as weel as thae inferior creatures, was meant to do nae manner o' work. For the Lord could hardly mean to gie the like o' them a rest, and subject horses, whilk are mair sensible like, to what he might ca' manual labour on the seventh day." " So," he added, " gin ye want to gang to the kirk, ye'll just hae to gang on yer feet, and its no' a lang walk, and would do ye gude. Forbye what the Scripture says as to a mercifu' man being mercifu' to his beast." 62 ONCE FOR ALL. After this very learned sermon, during the course of which his mistress was more than once inclined to smile, she felt she would be doing Milligan a gross injus- tice if she asked him to drive her ; so she and her daughter and their guest made their way to the little " English chapel," which stood on a rising ground on the outskirts of Inverkeith. On their way they passed various persons making their way to church. " There seem to be no poor in Scotland," said Yetta. " All the people are well dressed, and though some do go with bare feet, that seems to be a luxury, for they carry shoes in their hands. Still, their houses look wretched. The cottages are small, the smoke makes its way out by the window or door, and the floors are insecure. I wonder how it comes that they are all so smart on Sunday ? " Neither of her companions had fathomed ONCE FOK ALL. 63 the mystery of the Scotch character, with its curious relations to the religious insti- tutions of the country, so they walked on in silence. Bernard Winn was more than once tempted by some round smooth stones, which suggested the possibility of practising his " round hand " on the next tree-stem, but he resisted the temptation, partly out of deference to his aunt's presence, and partly because he wanted to seem a man before Yetta. The little chapel ia Inverkeith was a pretty one. It was built of a pinkish sandstone, and had a tall spire, which carried a cross high into the air. The latter ornament had, however, been objected to by various persons in the town, and even by some members of the congregation ; one gentleman putting his objection to it upon the ground of custom. " I don't like it, I don't see why we shouldn't have a weathercock on the top 64 ONCE FOR ALL. of the spire, as we have been accustomed to. Besides, it would be of use, and the Church should try to identify itself with the every- day interests of men. I would prefer a weathercock instead of that cross ; it's all very well, but it's a finger-post pointing to Rome." But, notwithstanding these objections, the cross remained. When Mrs. Graham and Yetta en- tered the church the voluntary was being played. The organ was a poor one, and yet the master-hand drew wonderful music out of it. Every pipe seemed a human throat, and now they sang in loud chorus, now a clear voice rose above the others and stilled them, as an orator might still the noise of a rabble. When the music ceased, Yetta sighed, and she blushed when she found that the words in her prayer-book were creeping about, ONCE FOR ALL. 65 and she knew that she had tears in her eyes. " Yetta," said Mrs. Graham on their way home, " it occurred to me in church that it would be well you should continue your music-lessons, and that organist seemed to play remarkably well. I daresay he gives lessons in Inverkeith." " He played splendidly ; I know that because I cried." Bernard Winn looked at his cousin. A few days before, he would have laughed at any one who wasted tears upon tunes. Now he ouly sighed and said, — " I wish I could play the organ." " Well," continued Mrs. Graham, "you might have lessons with Yetta while you are here. But we must find out whether he gives lessons. I suppose it is a man — women don't play so well as a rule." " I know it's a man," said Bernard, " I VOL. I. F 66 ONCE FOR ALL. saw him ; he's more like a poet than an organist ; he wears his hair long, and he has a woman's face. He's qnite young." " It may be that gentleman we passed on the road the other day, mamma," said Yetta. " I don't think he will give lessons ; and besides, if he is young, I might not care to be taught by him." So the subject dropped. ONCE FOE ALL. 67 CHAPTER VI. "As empty vessels make the loudest sound, so they Plato. that have the least wit are the greatest babblers." Mrs. Ramsay kept her word, and was one of the first to call at Faldoon after Mrs. Graham's arrival. She was very kind, and before she spoke, went up and kissed Mrs. Graham, and then sat down and buried her face in her handkerchief. Then she looked at Yetta and said, — " So like — so like — poor dear Herbert." Mrs. Graham waited until her grief was over, and then said, " I am very glad to see you." " Dear, dear. How good of you to say that. You must have thought me very 68 ONCE FOR ALL. unkind, but poor Herbert was my fa- vourite brother, and if it had not been for Duncan I never would have ceased to write to him ; and when he wrote to Mr. Ramsay asking for the loan of some money, we were both so sorry, but it was all lent to Robert — poor Robert, you know." But these reminiscences were too much for her, and she concealed her face a second time in her handkerchief, and cried. It was difficult to say any- thing under the circumstances, so Mrs. Graham and Yetta sat still, although the latter was somewhat inclined to laugh, for true grief has a very different ring from counterfeit sorrow, and she thought that her aunt's regrets sounded more with the ring of the latter than the former. " Yes ! I never regret anything more than allowing myself to be estranged ONOE FOR ALL. 69 from my favourite brother, by the mis- representations of Duncan. But Duncan did his best to sow the seeds of dissension between us all. He thought he would get poor Robert's money, but I'm very glad he didn't, very glad, my dear," she said, turning to Yetta. There was another pause, for neither Mrs. Graham nor her daughter knew how to enter into a conversation upon the merits of people of whom they knew nothing, especially as they were near re- lations of their own. "I hope, Mrs. Ramsay, that we may be able to forget what is past. I have so few relations or friends, that I am anxious to keep on good terms with all those with whom I have become connected by marriage.' ' " Dear, dear, how very good of you," said Mrs. Ramsay, to whom the very for- 70 ONCE FOR ALL. giving spirit of her sister-in-law seemed to be almost too Christian, as it was her sisterly office to warn Mrs. Graham against her brothers, Duncan and Gilbert, neither of whom was, in her opinion, worthy of friendship or confidence. But she ac- quiesced. e< It is just what I should have expected, my dear, for although I haven't known you — though that isn't my fault — I could almost have said what sort of person poor Herbert would choose. And I am so glad you have come to live here. I hope we shall see a great deal of one another." " Thank you, I hope we shall. Indeed that is one of my reasons for coming to Faldoon. Yetta is almost a woman now, and it is time she should have some society, and it was upon her account we made up our minds to come hei^e." " Well, you know, my dear, if I can be ONCE FOR ALL. 71 of any use to you, I shall be very glad. Often when people come to a new place there are things in which an old resiclenter can be of use to them, as to shops, and friends, and such like. As for the shops in Inverkeith you can't go far wrong, but there are some people that you ought to avoid as you would a pestilence. There is Mrs. Gibson, who is a distant connec- tion of ours, and who is a presuming woman. She will very likely call on you, but if I were you I would not return her call, for she is one of those women who think themselves a great deal better than any other body. But if she does call, you'll find her out at once. And there is Mr. Weir, who is a lawyer ; he wasn't poor Robert's lawyer, that was Mr. Newsome — but of course you know him ?" Mrs. Graham assented. " But Mr. Weir is a man with eyes 7