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 RESTITUTION 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBRARIES 
 
 DORINDA. By The Countess of Munster. 3 vols. 
 MISTRESS BEATRICE COPE, or Passages in the 
 
 Life of a Jacobite's Daughter, By M. E. Le Clekc. 2 vols. 
 
 THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT. By Mrs. E. Lynn 
 
 Linton, author of ' Patricia Kemball,' ' Paston Carew,' &c 3 vols. 
 
 THE TRACK OF THE STORM. By Dora Russell, 
 
 author of ' Footprints in the Snow,' ' The Broken Seal,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 HUGH ERRINGTON. By Gertrude Forde, author of 
 
 'Driven before the storm,' 'Only a Coral Girl,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 hurst & BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
 
 RESTITUTION 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNE BEALE 
 
 AUTHOE OF 
 
 FAY ARLINGTON,' * THE PENNANT FAMILY, 
 
 'SQUIRE LISLE'S BEQUEST,' ETC. 
 
 Fortune, men say, doth give too much to many : 
 But yet she never gave enough to any.' 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1889. 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 B3t5r 
 
 n;, 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 K- 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 0" 
 
 I 
 
 -^ 
 
 I. A Millionaire's Family 
 
 II. His Threk Wives 
 
 Iir. Fan ... . 
 
 IV. The Gipsies 
 
 V. The Old Ladies 
 
 VI. A Jack of all Trades 
 
 VII. His Daughter's Education 
 
 VIII. A Good Girl . 
 
 IX. An Assault Frustrated 
 
 X. A First Parting 
 
 XI. School 
 
 XII. Bruce's Tutor . 
 
 XIII. Une Petite Partie Carree 
 
 XIV. Edith's Schooling . 
 XV. At the Encampment . 
 
 XVI. The Gipsies at School 
 
 XVII. A Ship Lost . 
 
 XVIIL 'A Ruined Man' 
 
 XIX. Janet at Last . 
 
 PACK 
 
 1 
 
 17 
 
 31 
 
 49 
 
 62 
 
 79 
 
 9'1 
 
 111 
 
 127 
 
 143 
 
 160 
 
 173 
 
 190 
 
 209 
 
 226 
 
 245 
 
 260 
 
 279 
 
 296
 
 RESTITUTION 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A millionaire's family. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel, of Aspenel Park, was a mil- 
 lionaire. He did not himself know how 
 many millions he possessed, but he did 
 know that he kept one of them floating in 
 the Bank of England for chance monetary 
 exigencies, and the others shut up in mines, 
 and let loose in argosies in South America 
 and elsewhere. He had accumulated all 
 this wealth himself, was the founder of his 
 own fortune — as people say — and, if win- 
 ning the heart's desire secures happiness, 
 he w^as a happy man. He had schemed all 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 RESTITUTION. 
 
 his life to acquire money, and he had 
 heaped up so much that he did not know 
 what to do with it, where to invest it, or 
 how to spend it. Spending it was out of 
 the question, for, having made it, he willed 
 to keep it. He had gambled on the Stock 
 Exchange, in railways, in foreign specula- 
 tions at home and abroad, and he seized 
 his gains with such a deadly grip that no 
 man could wrest them from him. 
 
 Nevertheless he loved pomp and show 
 and grand company, and, before all, the 
 upper ten. He even gave, occasionally, 
 large sums in public charity, and had his 
 name blazoned forth before the public, if 
 not as a philanthropist, at least as a bene- 
 factor of his species. He stood tolerably 
 well with the outer world that did not 
 understand him, but not quite so well with 
 the members of his home circle who did. 
 They were terribly afraid of him, and 
 avoided him whensoever they could. As 
 he went almost daily to London, they did
 
 A millionaire's family. 
 
 not often come into collision, and no sooner 
 did he drive off from his house to the 
 station than his domestics, at least, let 
 loose the reins of their tongues and tem- 
 pers. As to his wife and children But 
 
 they require a special introduction. 
 
 Aspenel Park and the magnificent man- 
 sion in its midst were as bright and beau- 
 tiful as any of the bright and beautiful 
 places in that garden of England, Kent. 
 But its mistress was not so happy as she 
 might have been, in spite of the green 
 glades, umbrageous trees, swan-crested 
 lake, and model farm by which she was 
 surrounded. Neither did the fact that it 
 had once belonged to an out-at-elbows 
 nobleman comfort her as it did her hus- 
 band. She w^as herself a scion of the 
 aristocracy, and we rarely care overmuch 
 for the things to which we have been all 
 our lives accustomed. She, at least, was 
 so desirous of an entire change that she 
 had married a plebeian for his riches and 
 
 B 2
 
 4 EESTITUTIOK 
 
 what she hoped to get out of them. She 
 had been disappointed, as most people are 
 who make sordid matches ; and so were her 
 predecessors, since Mr. Aspenel had been 
 thrice wed. 
 
 As she sat in her morning-room, ponder- 
 ing over the peculiarities of her husband, 
 who had just driven off, and listening to 
 the distant hilarity of the housemaids, she 
 looked what she was — utterly bored and 
 discontented. She had undertaken a post 
 for which she was quite unsuited, and her 
 salary did not suffice to compensate to her 
 for its penalties. 
 
 ' How could I have married him ?' she 
 muttered, as she thought first of his per- 
 sonal appearance, then of the school-room 
 and nursery. 
 
 Not that he was ill-looking. She had 
 watched him get into his brougham, and 
 was forced to confess that although his 
 figure was spare, and he had what she 
 called a money-getting stoop in his shoul-
 
 A MILLIONAIRE S FAMILY. O 
 
 ders, his carriage was not bad, and the 
 cut of his head, hair, and beard respect- 
 able. The latter were iron grey, sprucely 
 clipped, and meritoriously superintended. 
 AShe sometimes wished them white and 
 rough, and their owner less scrupulously 
 neat and clean, just for a change. ' Any- 
 thing for a change,' she sighed. 
 
 Still she dreaded the change that 
 sometimes happened in his small black 
 ej^es. They were naturally bright and 
 cunning, but occasionally grew so fierce 
 and foxy that she was afraid of them and 
 him. She was told when she married that 
 she would have her own way in every- 
 thing, but she found that he was resolved 
 to have his, and, like many another who 
 makes rash promises for imaginary gain, 
 she got no compensation for her venture. 
 
 ' What can I do with those children ?' 
 she groaned, as she seated herself at a 
 luxuriously-furnished writing-table. ' I 
 know I have the reputation of being a
 
 6 RESTITUTION. 
 
 sort of rnardtre^ and they hate me accord- 
 ingly. I can do with Edith, but Janet is 
 ago^ressive, and browbeats Bruce, and 
 would rule me if she could. She must go 
 to school, but Bruin grudges the money, 
 and I cannot possibly spare it out of my 
 niggardly allowance.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel was in the habit of calling 
 her husband Bruin when alone with her 
 own thoughts, and being young and 
 sprightly, and not over-conscientious, saw 
 no harm in it. People said ' there was no 
 harm in her,' but her actions sometimes 
 belied this opinion. She was naturally 
 hasty of speech and quick of judgment, 
 and, although not devoid of kindness of 
 heart, frequently obscured her virtues by 
 her vices. The latter word may be strong, 
 but are not all bad passions vices? 
 
 No sooner had she taken pen in hand 
 with the intention of writing to her in- 
 timate friend, T^ady Ascham, to make 
 inquiries concerning schools in general,
 
 A millionaire's family. 
 
 than there was a sound of pattering feet 
 in the corridor, followed by many thumps 
 on the door, and attended by shouts of 
 * Mammy, mammy !' 
 
 She was on her feet in a moment, had 
 opened the door, and was soon hugging a 
 riotous, screaming boy, with a whip in his 
 hand. This was her only child, Master 
 Bruce, who answered her pathetic inquiries 
 as to what was the matter, by sobbing 
 repetitions of the word, ' Janet, Janet !' 
 
 ' What has Janet been doing now, dar- 
 ling?' asked the mother, soothingly. 
 
 ' Nothing, ma'am,' replied for him a 
 respectable-looking, middle-aged woman, 
 who had followed him. ' Master Bruce 
 kept on whipping and teasing Miss Janet, 
 and when she pushed him away he tum- 
 bled down. He would smudge her drawing, 
 ma'am !' 
 
 ' Janet pinched me,' screamed the boy. 
 
 ' Oh ! Master Bruce, you promised me 
 to tell the truth,' remonstrated the nurse.
 
 8 EESTITUTION. 
 
 * I hate Janet — I won't tell the truth/ 
 was the answer. 
 
 ' This must be put a stop to,' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Aspenel, walking hastily down the 
 corridor and mounting the staircase at its 
 end, followed by Bruce and the nurse. 
 
 'Where are the young ladies?' she 
 inquired. 
 
 ' In the school-room, ma'am.' 
 
 Bruce declared his intention of going to 
 the nursery, for he had an instinctive 
 feeling that he might get the worst of it 
 when face to face with Janet. Accordingly, 
 Mrs. Aspenel marched into one room, and 
 he and the nurse into another, which 
 adjoined it. 
 
 The occupants of the former were two 
 young girls, one of whom was seated at a 
 table, crying over the drawing which Bruce 
 had ' smudged ' ; the other bending caress- 
 ingly over her, and seeking to comfort 
 her. 
 
 ' I won't bear it any longer,' sobbed the
 
 A millionaire's family. 9 
 
 juvenile artist, as Mrs. Aspenel appeared. 
 
 ' What is all this, Janet ? What have 
 you been doing to Bruce?' she asked, 
 severely, for she was in a passion. 
 
 ' What has he been doing to me, rather,' 
 asked Janet in return, suppressing tears 
 and sobs with admirable self-command, and 
 holding up a block, on which Avas a water- 
 colour drawing, disfigured by many black 
 marks. 
 
 The elder girl, Edith, suddenly disap- 
 peared into the nursery, which communi- 
 cated with the school-room. She, like 
 Bruce, avoided a collision, but hearing 
 the word ' coward ' sent after her, like 
 some sharp missile, she returned and re- 
 tired to a seat near the window. A con- 
 temptuous smile passed over Janet's face, 
 but she rose and oiFered her chair to her 
 step-mother, who sat down before the dis- 
 figured dra^wing. 
 
 * Bruce says you pinched him.' 
 
 ' I did no such thing, Mrs. Aspenel. I
 
 10 EESTITUTION. 
 
 pushed him off when he snatched my brush 
 from my hand, and then he put it right 
 into the sepia and spoilt my drawing. He 
 is the plague of one's life.' 
 
 ' I should rather think you are the 
 
 plague of his, as you are ' Here Mrs. 
 
 Aspenel paused. 
 
 ' Not of my father's, for I never see him,' 
 put in spirited Janet. ' Nor of Edith's, nor 
 of Nurse True's, nor ' 
 
 ' Of mine, then. I think you had better 
 go to school. Your governesses cannot 
 manage you, and Mrs. Nunn left us on 
 your account.' 
 
 Janet uttered a sound that in a boy 
 might have been accounted a whistle, and 
 repeated with a shrill voice, 
 
 ' Mrs. Nunn !' then, turning to her sister, 
 said rapidly : ' Edith knows as well as I 
 do why Mrs. Nunn left. She said her 
 salary was too low, and that she couldn't 
 maintain her children upon it. Now, Edith,
 
 A millionaire's family. 11 
 
 can't you speak up? Didn't Mrs. Xunn 
 say that?' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Edith, timidly. 
 
 ' We were very fond of Mrs. Nunn, 
 weren't we, Edith ?' 
 
 ' Very,' was the trembling response. 
 
 ' Were you ever fond of anyone, Janet T 
 asked Mrs. Aspenel, with a sudden change 
 of tone. 
 
 ' I am very fond of Edith, and Nurse 
 True, and ' 
 
 'But Edith is only your half-sister, just 
 as Bruce is your half-brother, and Nurse 
 True was her mother's maid.' 
 
 ' My own mother was very fond of Edith, 
 wasn't she, Edith ? And we were always 
 treated alike ; and Nurse True says no one 
 ever knew that Edith was not her very 
 own daughter.' 
 
 * I think Nurse True had better hold 
 her tongue.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel felt that she was getting
 
 12 RESTITUTION. 
 
 the worst of it, and with a slight twinge 
 of conscience, reverted to her darling 
 Bruce. 
 
 ^ Since Bruce is the plague of your life, 
 Janet, perhaps you had better leave him, 
 and, as I cannot manage you, a school- 
 mistress may.' 
 
 ' We get on very well sometimes, but I 
 don't like to have my drawings spoilt, and 
 to be punished when he is naughty. He 
 tells stories and I am blamed. I shall be 
 very glad to go to school.' 
 
 ' Oh, Janet !' came from pale Edith. 
 
 The colour rose to Mrs. Aspenel's cheeks 
 and anger to her heart. She knew that 
 she had not tried to gain the affection of 
 these two girls, yet she could not put up 
 with their dislike or indifference. She 
 turned round from the drawing which she 
 had apparently been contemplating all the 
 time, and faced Janet, standing at the end 
 of a long table. They might have been 
 mother and daughter, for both were dark
 
 A millionaire's family. IS- 
 
 and handsome, only Mrs. Aspenel did not 
 look her ao^e, and Janet looked older than 
 she was. She was tall, slight, and angular, 
 and not only her attitude but her face was 
 defiant. The hazel eyes that melted to 
 tears at a kind word flashed at injustice, 
 and the colour rose and disappeared in 
 her clear cheeks at every changing feeling. 
 At the moment she was bristling with real 
 or imaginary grievances, and decision lay 
 in every muscle of her frame, especially in 
 the hand which pressed the table. 
 
 'To school, then, you shall go if your 
 father does not object,' said Mrs. Aspenel. 
 
 'That will suit all parties, if it is not 
 too expensive,' returned Janet, with pro- 
 voking resolution. ' But I fear that, if he 
 found Mrs. Nunn's salary too heavy for his 
 small income, he will not be able to afford 
 a school. Shall I go as pupil-teacher?' 
 
 ' You will remain in the school-room to- 
 day. Your impertinence is insufferable, 
 and your treatment of your brother quite
 
 14 llESTITUTION. 
 
 unbearable,' replied Mrs. Aspenel, rising, 
 and looking as if she would fain cbastise 
 her step-daughter. 
 
 A reply rose to Janet's lips, but it was 
 stayed by a touch. Edith laid her hand 
 on her shoulder, and when she turned 
 quickly she met her entreating glance. 
 
 ' She does not mean to be impertinent, 
 and she is not really unkind to Bruce,' 
 breathed the elder girl, whose fear ex- 
 ceeded in proportion her sister's courage, 
 and who had crept across the room with 
 mouse-like quietude. 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel glanced haughtily at the 
 pair. They were less alike than were she 
 and Janet ; for Edith was pale, fair-headed, 
 and scarcely so tall as her sister, though 
 three or four years her senior. 
 
 ' I think, Edith, Janet and I can man- 
 age without interference,' she said, con- 
 temptuously. ' You are both resolved to 
 annoy me, and I shall complain of your 
 conduct to your father.'
 
 A millionaihe's family. 15 
 
 The pressure of the small, white hand 
 again restrained an answer from Janet that 
 would have provoked further irritation, 
 and Mrs. Aspenel, perceiving that no reply 
 was intended, sailed out of the school-room 
 and into the nursery. She found Bruce 
 en penitence, seated on a low chair at his 
 nurse's knee. He was supposed to be learn- 
 ing a lesson. He started up, asking to be 
 allowed to go with his mother. 
 
 'May I, nurse? I'm good now; and I 
 won't spoil Janet's drawing no more,' he 
 entreated. 
 
 ' Of course you may, darling,' said his 
 mother, and took him quickly away. 
 
 'Always the same !' muttered the nurse. 
 'Injustice to my dear lambs, and indul- 
 gence to her own. No sooner do I punish 
 him than she spoils him. What is to be 
 the end of it all ? Had I not promised my 
 dear mistress never to leave Miss Edith, I 
 would not stay here an hour.' 
 
 ' Is the coast clear?' here broke in Janet,
 
 16 * RESTITUTION. 
 
 looking in at the door. ' Even you may 
 venture, mousie, for there is no cat to eat 
 you up.' 
 
 * I wish you would not talk in that way, 
 Miss Janet. If you were more cautious, it 
 might be better for us all. Edith, my 
 sweetheart, you are ill.' 
 
 ' Only a little frightened, nurse dear. 
 My heart seems to rise to my mouth when 
 Mrs. Aspenel appears. And I am sure she 
 does not mean to be unkind.' 
 
 Edith walked timidly towards the rock- 
 ing-chair on Avhich her friend was moving 
 to and fro, put her arms round her neck, 
 and let fall a few suppressed tears. Janet's 
 arms were instantly round the pair, and 
 they were all in danger of an upset. They 
 righted themselves, however, and were soon 
 engaged in discussing the new plan of a 
 school for Janet.
 
 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel's first wife was a Miss Whal- 
 ley. She was a lady of good family, or oui* 
 ambitious millionaire would not have mar- 
 ried her. Her father was an officer who 
 was not over rich, and who had no scruples 
 in advising his daughter to accept the pro- 
 2)osal made to her by one whose fortune 
 Avas already considerable. As she had no 
 positive dislike to Mr. Aspenel, she did her 
 utmost to please her father. She received 
 him courteously, entered into his views, 
 and finally fancied that she had a prefer- 
 ence for him. He was not then quite so 
 greedy of gain as he became as years went 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 EESTITUTION. 
 
 on, and he was neither ill-looking nor de- 
 ficient in good manners, so it ended in her 
 marrying him. If he had any affection for 
 aught but money, it was for her. 
 
 She was a delicate, fragile creature, and 
 soon found that her despotic lord and 
 master took small heed of her. She saw 
 little of her family, for they lived at a dis- 
 tance, and her husband never approved of 
 visitors who stayed in the house. He con- 
 sidered it loss of time, and did not see why 
 he should spend his money in keeping those 
 who could afford to keep themselves. Be- 
 sides, his breakfast-table was sacred to 
 himself, his wife, his newspapers, and his 
 accounts. A stranger would have inter- 
 fered mth these domestic arrangements, 
 and accordingly Mrs. Aspenel led a solitary 
 life. Her husband frequently brought back 
 with him to dinner such friends as could 
 return to their homes the same night, and 
 occasionally entertained the Dons and 
 Donesses of the neighbourhood ; but,
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. IB 
 
 beyond this and morning calls, she had 
 no society. She was herself a north- 
 country woman, and often pined for the 
 hospitality to which she had been accus- 
 tomed ; but being naturally amiable and 
 yielding, she made no complaint. Thus, 
 Mr. Aspenel's introduction to matrimony 
 Avas unattended by the 'jars,' sometimes 
 associated with that second estate, married- 
 manhood, which he was wont to compare 
 with the first, bachelorhood, and, subse- 
 quently, with the third, widowerhood. 
 
 When Mrs. Aspenel married she brought 
 with her from the north a maid named 
 Trueman, whom she had known all her 
 life, and who was devoted to her almost 
 with the devotion of clanship. She it 
 was who had consoled her Avhen she lost 
 her first child, and had promised never to 
 forsake her second, for the first Mrs. 
 Aspenel died a few days after the birth of 
 Edith, and two years subsequently to her 
 marriage, confiding the infant, with her 
 
 c2
 
 20 EESTITUTION. 
 
 last gasp, to the care of her faithful 
 attendant. 
 
 ' Call her Edith, and never forsake her,' 
 she had breathed, just as her husband 
 hurried into the room. 
 
 He had been telegraphed for some hours 
 before, but thousands of pounds hung on 
 his being at his office just then, and his 
 scales were pretty equally weighted by 
 money on one and life on the other. 
 Money, however, outweighed life, and in 
 saving the one he was too late for the other, 
 for death met him on the threshold of his 
 home. 
 
 'No one could possibly blame me,' he 
 thought, as he looked regretfully on his 
 dead wife, and heard his infant daughter 
 wailing. 
 
 He mourned her for several hom^s, and 
 then went for consolation to his accounts, 
 which were so complicated and intricate 
 that no mathematician had more engrossing 
 means of comfort than he.
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 21 
 
 He made no objection to Mrs. Trueman's 
 undertaking the sole charge of ' the muling 
 and puking ' baby ; and no two words 
 could better describe the infant than those 
 immortal and very natural ones of Shakes- 
 peare. Edith was a tiny, delicate snow- 
 drop from her birth, and the wonder was 
 that she ever pierced through earth's hard 
 crust at all, and grew up capable of hang- 
 ing her drooping head on her fragile stem. 
 Humanly speaking, she would not but for 
 Nurse Trueman — Nurse True, or True 
 nurse, so the children called her as years 
 sped on. 
 
 Before she was quite two years old, her 
 father brought her a step-mother. He had 
 a short memory for all save his arithmetic, 
 and honestly confessed that he could not 
 live without a wife. If he was a rich man 
 when he first married, he was a richer 
 when he prevailed on Sir Connop Gerard's 
 widow to bestow on him her youngest 
 daughter. Of course she had no money,
 
 22 RESTITUTION. 
 
 for Sir Connop had run througli his fortune, 
 and his widow was nearly penniless; but 
 Mr. Aspenel looked only for family, and 
 having married the daughter of a general 
 officer first, aspired to the baronetcy next, 
 and his aspirations were not disappointed. 
 
 His second wife was very different from 
 his first, being a bright, high-spirited girl, 
 who had a fancy for a fine home and a 
 change from comparative poverty to certain 
 wealth. She did not pretend to be in love 
 with Mr. Aspenel, but she had no positive 
 dislike to him, for he had the power of 
 making himself pleasant if he chose, and, 
 as we have said, was rather good-looking 
 and well got up. Of course, when a girl 
 marries on no better foundation than this, 
 she must take the consequences. 
 
 She did take them with tolerable cheer- 
 fulness, and put up with one of them much 
 better than was expected. This was her 
 small step-daughter. She took her at once 
 to her heart, and with her the nurse which
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 23 
 
 had been providentially given her. Not 
 even when her own little daughter arrived 
 did she allow her to be displaced. As 
 Janet said, no onlooker could discover that 
 any difference was made in the treatment 
 of the two children ; if there were any 
 preference shown, Edith certainly was the 
 one preferred. The shrinking snowdrop 
 was never molested, while the hardier 
 celandine was often blown about by the 
 March winds. 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel the second had a quick 
 temper, and was impetuous and warm- 
 hearted, so that if annoyed she wanted an 
 object for her temporary displeasure, and 
 would always rather reprove her own off- 
 spring than her predecessor's, while she 
 usually petted and spoilt both. 
 
 Being high-spirited and particularly 
 sociable, she managed to scrape acquaint- 
 ance with such scions of gentility as lived 
 in the neighbouring village of Roselands, 
 and introduced the clergyman to the Park
 
 24 RESTITUTION. 
 
 on more intimate terms than her husband 
 quite liked. Roselands had been the name 
 of his property until he changed it to 
 Aspenel Park, following, unwittingly, the 
 scriptural description of those who call 
 their possessions * after their own names.' 
 But he failed to alter that of the village, 
 which did not belong to him. He succeed- 
 ed, however, in changing the title of a 
 neighbouring cluster of houses from ' The 
 Roselands Cottages ' to ' The Aspenel 
 Homes,' because he assumed he had a right 
 over them. This right was, however, dis- 
 puted, he asserting that he had purchased 
 them with the Park ; and Lord Beechton 
 declaring that they were built and endowed 
 by an ancestor of his, whose descendants 
 had no right to sell them. Lord Beechton 
 was a great landed proprietor who lived 
 about five miles from Aspenel Park, and 
 the disputed cottages lay near the village 
 of Roselands, and just outside the Park. 
 They consisted of a group of six small
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 25 
 
 and pretty houses, enclosed in a lawn, or, 
 more properly, field, and built by a phil- 
 anthropist for the benefit of half-a-dozen 
 ' decayed gentlewomen,' as people call poor 
 ladies who, havino^ no private means, are 
 content to live upon the means provided 
 for them by the benevolent. Widows or 
 single ladies were equally available for 
 admission into the Aspenel Homes, or Rose- 
 lands Cottages, and these, without excep- 
 tion, used the latter name, in which we mil 
 humour them ; for there is no reason why 
 ladies — or gentlemen either, for that 
 matter — should be reminded of their 
 indebtedness to some long-departed bene- 
 factor, by that much-abused word ' Home.' 
 Not but that the Cottages were really very 
 nice and pleasant homes, in which, if women 
 ever could ' dwell together in unity,' the 
 six impecunious ladies who tenanted them 
 might have ended their days in peace. 
 
 They are particularly mentioned here 
 because Mrs. Aspenel the second, in her
 
 26 KESTITUTION. 
 
 kindness of heart and need of sympathy, 
 made the acquaintance of the six ladies, 
 and because her own mother's sister dwelt 
 amongst them. She, however, only took 
 possession of the abode a few months before 
 her niece's death, and but for that niece 
 would never have tenanted it. The widow 
 of a poor clergyman, she was looking about 
 for the means of livelihood, when she 
 heard of the Cottages, and wrote to Mrs. 
 Aspenel to inquire if there were a vacancy. 
 It is unnecessary to enter upon the diffi- 
 culties which Mrs. Aspenel encountered 
 before she prevailed on her husband to 
 nominate her. At first he positively re- 
 fused, but vvhen his wife represented to 
 him that he was expected to help to main- 
 tain her, and actually asked him for money 
 for that purpose, he relented, and said she 
 might fill the next vacancy, provided he 
 were no more jDestered with her. 
 
 Edith was nine years old and Janet six 
 when their mother was seized with an ill-
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 27 
 
 ness that ended in decline. She had time 
 given her to arrange her mortal affairs, 
 and to prepare for the immortal. Nurse 
 Trueman had now two children committed 
 to her care, and she undertook the charge 
 in faith. Her simple piety and enduring 
 love for Edith had not been without effect 
 on Mrs. Aspenel, who was naturally world- 
 ly ; and when she was solemnly asked 
 if she would be to Janet what she had 
 been to Edith, and never forsake either^ 
 she replied, 
 
 * I will, God helping me.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel had made herself much 
 beloved, both by domestics and her outer 
 world, but her children idolised her, as 
 she, indeed, did them. She had taught 
 them herself, aided by Trueman, and in 
 teaching them had learnt her own lessons, 
 particularly religious ones. She had sought 
 to influence her husband, but she saw even 
 less of him than had his first wife, for he grew 
 more and more engrossed with his golden
 
 •28 RESTITUTION. 
 
 idol. However, he managed to be with her 
 when she died, though the weight of this 
 heavy god, that he always carried with 
 him, had more power than her last words. 
 
 ' Be kind to the children. Let Nurse 
 True ahvays live with them. Think of the 
 world to which I am going. Oh ! come to 
 the Saviour!' 
 
 He stood beside her while she expired in 
 the good nurse's arms, her aunt and the 
 children being also present, but whether 
 he grieved or not none could tell. Indeed 
 he could not tell himself. Men with one 
 engrossing passion rarely feel for anything 
 outside it. 
 
 ' I could not help her dying. She has 
 had all she wanted,' he said to her aunt 
 afterwards, who remained the day with 
 him and the children, unasked, and fancied 
 that he drank more heavily than usual, as 
 if to drown some sort of feeling. 
 
 This brief story of Mr. Aspenel's two 
 wives is merely to serve to account for the
 
 HIS THREE WIVES. 29* 
 
 state of affairs at the commencement of 
 our first chapter. In less than a twelve- 
 month after the death of the second he 
 married the lady to whom we have been 
 introduced. She was the daughter of the 
 Hon. James Bruce, who, though the son 
 of a peer of the realm, was delighted to 
 Aved his daughter to one of the richest 
 commoners of England, and was not too 
 particular in examining the branches of 
 his son-in-law's family-tree when the settle- 
 ments were made. 
 
 They had been married nearly six years- 
 when our story began, and their only child 
 was the Master Bruce who was 'the plague 
 of Janet's life,' and the paramount anxiety 
 of Nurse True's. She found herself in a 
 very difficult position, since she was com- 
 pelled to seek favour from this youthful 
 autocrat and his mother, if she were to 
 fulfil the mission imposed upon her by her 
 previous mistresses. Being true by nature 
 as well as by name, and never having been
 
 30 RESTITUTION. 
 
 taught the diplomatic art, as political state 
 nurses have, she was often astonished at 
 the results of her own measures. But she 
 would say to Edith, who was her confidant 
 in every difficulty, 
 
 * I pray, and the Lord hears me.'
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER 111. 
 
 FAN. 
 
 ' You know it was a story, Nurse True/ 
 exclaimed the still exasperated Janet, when 
 the trio in the nursery had righted them- 
 selves after the episode in the rocking- 
 chair. 
 
 ' Perhaps not exactly a story, only a 
 mistake, my dear. You were often trouble- 
 some to Mrs. Nunn, and she may have 
 complained to Mrs. Aspenel.' 
 
 ' Then she was a nasty, cross old thing ; 
 but I don't believe she did. She left be- 
 cause Mr. Aspenel wouldn't pay her a 
 proper salary.' 
 
 'Pray say my father, and not Mr.
 
 32 KESTITUTION. 
 
 Aspenel, Miss Janet. Whatever has put 
 that into your head? It was very obsti- 
 nate of you not to call Mrs. Aspenel 
 mother.' 
 
 ' That was my fault, Nurse True,' put in 
 Edith. ' I could not bear the idea of a 
 third mother. I cannot remember my own 
 mother, and our mother was so dear that I 
 could never acknowledge another. Janet 
 only followed my lead. I think Mrs. 
 Aspenel does not mind, and my father 
 does not know.' 
 
 ' I don't believe he is our father, for he 
 takes no notice of us,' said Janet. ' I don't 
 mind calling him papa, for that word 
 doesn't occur in the Bible, you know. 
 There is something very solemn in the 
 word father, and almost all the fathers are 
 kind. So I shall say papa.' 
 
 ' It does not much matter which,' re- 
 turned the nurse ; ' but, if you think of 
 the Bible, remember it tells you to " honour 
 your father." '
 
 FAN. 33 
 
 Janet was silent, and sat biting her 
 
 lip. 
 
 * May we go and see auntie ?' asked 
 Edith, always nervous at this sign of 
 temper. ' I will ask Mrs. Aspenel about 
 Bruce.' 
 
 ' Bravo, Edith ! that is more than I could 
 do,' cried Janet. 'But I won't accompany 
 
 you, if that young imp He is an imp, 
 
 Nurse True. Look at my poor drawing, 
 and I meant to present it to Mr. Austen.' 
 
 Edith, who had a mortal fear of giving 
 offence, was anxious to show Mrs. Asj)enel 
 that she had meant none when she sided 
 with Janet, so she hastened downstairs. 
 When she reached Mrs. Aspenel's room, 
 however, she stood some time at the door 
 before she ventured to knock, and, when 
 she did so, the imperative ' Come in,' 
 frightened her. She found her step-mother 
 with Bruce on her lap, and a plate of sweet- 
 meats before them. She explained that 
 she had come to ask whether Mrs. Aspenel 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 RESTITUTION. 
 
 wished Bruce to go out, as it was the usual 
 time for a walk. 
 
 ' I won't go with Janet,' screamed the 
 boy, and the question was settled at once. 
 
 ' You see how it is, Edith. It is im- 
 possible to get on when you all conspire 
 against him, even Nurse True,' said Mrs. 
 Aspenel, haughtily. 
 
 ' We are all very fond of Bruce, when 
 he is good,' rejoined Edith. ' I am sorry 
 if I annoyed or oifended you just now, 
 when I agreed with Janet about Mrs. 
 Nunn. I think they liked one another 
 very well.' 
 
 Edith was one of those natures, timid 
 when taken at unawares, self-possessed 
 when having time for reflection. Mrs. 
 Aspenel was hot and hasty, and disliked 
 all interference. 
 
 ' You are always sorry for one thing 
 and another, Edith. I wish you would 
 be just. You must know that Janet re- 
 bels against every person and thing, and
 
 FAN. 35 
 
 provokes Bruce until he pays her back.' 
 
 'Oh! Mrs. Aspenel!' ejacukted Edith, 
 her favourite exclamation when she was 
 afraid to reply more fully. 
 
 ' The only way out of these complications 
 that I can find is to send Janet to school, 
 and T shall ask Mr. Aspenel about it this 
 evening.' 
 
 Edith sighed. 
 
 ' You have no objection to our going to 
 the Cottages to see Mrs. Clarville?' she 
 said, by way of changing the subject. 
 
 ' I think you generally go whether I 
 object or not ; but since Janet's mother 
 saw no impropriety in placing her aunt in 
 an almshouse, and allowing her to receive 
 charity at her husband's gates, T suppose 
 she is a proper person to be visited. But 
 how you can endure sitting with those old 
 women I can't imagine. It must be faute 
 de mieiLx. Of course we must be civil to 
 Mrs. Clarville, since she is a sort of con- 
 nection, but the others ! — I see them now ! 
 
 D 2
 
 36 EESTITUTION. 
 
 Miss Short, pacing up and down the gravel 
 Avalk, with her long walking-stick and 
 poked bonnet, followed by the maid. 
 Then Mrs. Lucy and her corkscrew curls. 
 She objects to her juvenile maid wearing 
 a fringe, but persists in curling her own 
 hair. I see no difference. I have never 
 had the pleasure of an introduction to 
 bedridden Miss Lome, but the sentimental 
 Lilyton, and the strong-minded and literary 
 Vigors, are my abhorrence.' 
 
 ^They say you are very kind and con- 
 descending when they come to tea,' said 
 Edith, smiling. 
 
 * One must be polite in one's own house ; 
 and, since I understand they none of them 
 visit one another, it amuses me to have 
 them here all together.' 
 
 'Auntie visits them all. Nurse True 
 calls her " oil on the troubled waters." ' 
 
 ' She is not your aunt, Edith. Why do 
 you call her so ?' 
 
 ' I suppose because Janet does.'
 
 FAN. 37 
 
 *Then, if Janet called me mother, you 
 would probably do the same. I am sur- 
 prised at your allowing yourself to be led 
 by the nose by a cbild three or four years 
 your junior.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel flushed, and Edith was 
 silent, perceiving for the first time that 
 there was a grievance under her step- 
 mother's apparent nonchalance. The mo- 
 mentary silence was broken by Bruce, who, 
 having devoured all the sweetmeats, began 
 to think of dinner, and asked, noisily 
 enough, when it would be ready. Mrs. 
 Aspenel looked at her Avatch, and said, 
 
 ' There will not be time for your anti- 
 quarian researches before dinner, Edith, 
 so you had better go afterwards, and Bruce 
 shall drive with me.' 
 
 ' Thank you ; I will tell Janet,' returned 
 Edith, and hurried back to her sister 
 rejoicing. 
 
 The children dined at luncheon, and it 
 was usually a stiff and silent meal. An
 
 38 RESTITUTION. 
 
 occasional guest broke its monotony, other- 
 wise few w^ords were spoken, save by- 
 Bruce, who was allowed to say just what 
 he pleased. The antagonism between Mrs. 
 Aspenel and Janet was never laid aside. 
 
 But all was forgotten when the two girls 
 and Nurse True found themselves in the 
 Park, Avith an afternoon before them in 
 which to do just what they liked. 
 
 ' How nice it is to have you all to our- 
 selves again, Nurse True !' cried Janet. ' I 
 am glad Mrs. Nunn is gone, though I 
 maintain that it was money not I that sent 
 her away.' 
 
 And, unquestionably, money it was ; for 
 Mrs. Nunn asked for an increase of salary, 
 was refused politely by Mr. Aspenel in 
 person, and resigned her post. 
 
 He was in the habit of getting all that 
 he could out of people at the cheapest rate, 
 and reflected that what one would not do 
 another would. Accordingly he was al- 
 ready on the look-out for a ' cheap govern-
 
 FAN. 39 
 
 ess,' knowing full well that in the multitude 
 of unemployed ladies he should assuredly 
 find one who would ' teach everything for 
 a nominal emolument.' 
 
 Edith 23aused beside the lake to feed the 
 swans. It was spring, and just where she 
 stood grew several pink and white haw- 
 thorn-trees in full blossom. Sheltering 
 them towered a group of horse-chestnuts, 
 also clad in green and white, and it would 
 have been difficult to say which was the 
 fairer — swans, flowers, or pale-faced maiden. 
 Janet left her in hot haste, and before 
 Nurse True could arrest her was running 
 at full speed across a side- walk beneath an 
 avenue of elms, towards a house on the 
 outskirts of the Park. 
 
 ' We must go after her,' said Nurse True ; 
 and she and Edith followed Janet. 
 
 Looking back toAvards the house they 
 saw the carriage at the door, and con- 
 gratulated one another that they had not 
 Bruce to look after as well as Janet, since
 
 40 RESTITUTION. 
 
 they knew not wliicli was the wilder. The 
 house looked well from the side avenue. 
 It was situated on a slight eminence, and 
 stood out from a background of trees, a 
 stately mansion, porticoed, pillared, and 
 stuccoed to a shining whiteness. Mr. As- 
 penel spared no money in maintaining its 
 personal appearance, and neither flaw nor 
 discolourment was allowed to deface it. 
 His own outer man was not more scrupu- 
 lously attended to than was the outside of 
 his abode. It looked pure as did Edith and 
 her swans. 
 
 ^ How brightly the sun shines into the 
 windows !' said that young lady, as she 
 glanced across at the carriage. ' I sup- 
 pose glass reflects only, since the shine 
 flickers from pane to pane, and the least 
 cloud effaces it. That is just what I am. 
 The sun is in my heart one minute, and 
 gloom the next.' 
 
 ' Dear love ! you take things too gravely 
 for your years ; just as your dear mother
 
 FAN. 41 
 
 did,' returned Nurse True, whose broad 
 north-country accent never deserted her. 
 
 ' I wish I could do something kind to 
 Mrs. Aspenel,' said Edith, reflectively. 
 
 ' The time is sure to come, lovey. Watch 
 your opportunities, and have patience,' was 
 the reply. 
 
 They hurried after Janet, but her figure 
 was out of sight in no time. 
 
 ' No good to hasten. Let her have her 
 joy, poor child,' said Nurse True, and they 
 slackened their steps. 
 
 They eventually reached an iron swing- 
 gate, placed beneath an archway in the 
 park wall, and leading into a country road. 
 This road was a favourite and favoured 
 spot, for it was flanked with hawthorn 
 hedges and adorned with wayside flowers. 
 In summer wild roses bloomed here, in 
 autumn traveller's-joy, and always some 
 frond or floweret lurked beneath the 
 thorns. Here, too, were cottages, and 
 here was the big brick school-house, lately
 
 42 KESTITUTION. 
 
 built to accommodate many Board schools. 
 But there was another school-house in the 
 village, old and ivy-clad, which the vicar 
 maintained for such parishioners as pre- 
 ferred the voluntary to the Board-school 
 system. And it must be confessed that 
 most of the villasfers were as conservative 
 as was the Rev. Philip Austen, their 'pas- 
 tor and master,' and aifected what they 
 called 'the Church school.' 
 
 Edith and Nurse True walked briskly 
 down this road, receiving and returning 
 salutations from the cottagers, till they 
 reached a substantial brick house called 
 Hoplands, probably after the flourishing 
 hop-gardens in the neighbourhood. They 
 went through a swing-gate into a large 
 garden surrounding the house, and full 
 of spring flowers. The round bed in the 
 middle of the gravel-walk was ablaze with 
 tulips, and in the borders flourished hepa- 
 ticas, polyanthuses and Russian violets, sur- 
 mounted by various shrubs, among which
 
 FAN. 43 
 
 the laurustinus had the pre-eminence. 
 The door was open, and they went into 
 the hall. They heard Janet's voice in the 
 dining-room, and Edith tapped at its door. 
 
 ' Come in,' sounded from a cheery voice, 
 and she entered, Nurse True remaining in 
 the hall. ' Miss Aspenel ! this is good for 
 sore eyes !' continued the same cheery 
 voice. 
 
 It proceeded from a middle-aged man^ 
 who was seated in an elbow-chair near a 
 large lire, with Janet on a stool at his 
 knees. 
 
 ' I hope you are better, Mr. Harton,'^ 
 said Edith, going towards him and putting 
 her small hand in his. 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! I am better, but the rheuma- 
 tism sticks to me like a leech. I was just 
 telling Miss Janet that we have heard 
 from Jack at last. He has fallen on his 
 feet in the wilds of Canada, and says he is 
 already in a fair way of making his fortune. 
 My boys have their father's hopeful tern-
 
 44 RESTITUTION. 
 
 perament, and, like Micawber, declare that 
 something is always on the eve of " turn- 
 ing up." ' 
 
 ' But it does turn up,' cried Janet, 
 enthusiastically. ' I wish Tom would come 
 back.' 
 
 ' My dear child, it will never do for you 
 to call my boys by their Christian names,' 
 laughed Mr. Harton, laying his hand on 
 her head. ' What would your father and 
 Mrs. Aspenel say ?' 
 
 'Our mother didn't object, did she, 
 Edith ?' asked Janet ; ' and I don't care 
 what Mrs. Aspenel says. Papa never 
 thinks about it, or cares what becomes 
 of us.' 
 
 ' Where is Fan ?' interrupted Edith. 
 
 ' Taking my place in giving orders and 
 managing man, woman, and child,' said 
 Mr. Harton. ' She thinks herself a woman 
 of importance, and is ruining me by bring- 
 ing in every beggar and his brat that 
 comes near the house.'
 
 FAN. 45 
 
 ' That is just what you did to her,' 
 whispered Janet. 
 
 Voices sounded in the hall, and in an- 
 other moment the door was flung open, 
 and a young girl was seen struggling with 
 Nurse True, while several dogs were bark- 
 ing and leaping round them. 
 
 ' You must come in. Sir will be so 
 angry,' she shouted at the top of her voice. 
 ^ ^ Pray do, Mrs. Trueman. I would get 
 up to escort you if I could, but I am 
 chained to my chair,' said Mr. Harton. 
 'Fan, you needn't be quite so violent.' 
 
 ' She won't come unless I force her,' 
 cried Fan, still struggling with Nurse 
 True. 
 
 Janet ran towards them, and was soon 
 kissing Fan energetically, while Nurse 
 True advanced towards Mr. Harton. Fan 
 was a born hoyden of sixteen, or there- 
 abouts, of the true gipsy type of beauty. 
 Black hair, black eyes, red lips, red cheeks, 
 a box of teeth as white as the snow in
 
 46 RESTITUTION. 
 
 which she was found, and a complexion as 
 dark as if she had really been the Egyptian 
 people supposed her to be ; in other words, 
 a stray from a gipsy-tent. Everybody 
 called her Fan, both rich and poor, and 
 everybody adopted her, everybody except 
 Edith, who was afraid of her. But, as 
 they were in such different positions, they 
 saw but little of one another. Indeed, 
 when Fan perceived Edith, she made a 
 little curtsey, and did not attempt to oifer 
 her hand till Edith held out hers. Miss 
 Aspenel had the reputation of being proud, 
 as reserved, shy people frequently have. 
 
 To Janet's mortification, Nurse True 
 proposed their pursuing their Avay to the 
 cottages ; but before they left, Mr. Harton 
 gave a third account of how he had heard 
 from Jack. 
 
 'And he has killed a skunk which smelt 
 awfully, and cleared away yards of snow, 
 and been nearly frozen to death, and felled 
 more trees than ever Mr. Gladstone felled
 
 FAN. 47 
 
 in all his long life, and been half-starved 
 — poor Jack !' said Fan, with tears in her 
 big black eyes. * But he is building a 
 log-hut, and says I shall go out to keep 
 house for him if Sir can spare me. But that 
 would be impossible.' 
 
 In a moment her hand was on Mr. 
 Harton's shoulder, and the lustrous eyes 
 looking into his. 
 
 'Nobody could spare Fan!' exclaimed 
 Janet, rising from her low seat at a glance 
 from Nurse True. 
 
 ' We can keep our girls, Mrs. Trueman, 
 though there is no holding in the boys 
 nowadays,' said Mr. Harton. ' Fortunately 
 I have Fan, my books, and my newspapers, 
 but I am half-afraid the property will go 
 to rack and ruin.' 
 
 ' Not yours, sir. God will never forsake 
 those who work for their fellow-creatures 
 as you do,' returned Nurse True. 
 
 'Thank you, Mrs. Trueman, for that 
 word of comfort. Remember me to the
 
 48 RESTITUTION. 
 
 old ladies — I beg tlieir pardons, they don't 
 like to be called old — none of us do.' 
 
 Fan accompanied her visitors to the 
 gate, followed by her train of dogs, and, 
 as she watched them down the road, 
 muttered, 
 
 ' I wish I was as white as a lily, like 
 Miss Aspenel, and not black as a nigger, 
 like — like Fan.'
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GIPSIES. 
 
 Me. Harton was also watching the van- 
 ishing forms of the trio from the park, as 
 they passed beneath the low Avail that 
 served as boundary between his garden 
 and the road. The garden itself was 
 almost level with the top of the wall, and 
 thus enabled him to watch the passers-by. 
 Many thoughts rushed through his mind 
 while Fan stood at the garden -gate sur- 
 rounded by his dogs. They concerned 
 Mr. Aspenel and his family, as well as his 
 own, for he had known something of the 
 former in his youth, and had marked his 
 rise, progress, marriages, and millionaireism 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 RESTITUTION. 
 
 from that period to the moment when he 
 sat a prisoner from rheumatism, follow- 
 ing with his eyes the movements of his 
 daughters. But he knew no more than 
 other people of Mr. Aspenel's birth and 
 parentage. He had been a successful man, 
 and that was enough for him as well as for 
 the world at large. 
 
 He heartily disliked Mr. Aspenel, and, 
 whenever he chanced to come in contact 
 with him, they were sure to quarrel. 
 There was one especial grievance between 
 them : Mr. Aspenel was for uprooting the 
 gipsies from the neighbourhood, and kindly 
 Mr. Harton insisted on allowing them to 
 pitch their tents on his land whenever 
 they chanced to come that way. ' Live 
 and let live,' Avas his motto ; and he would 
 moralise on the short lives probably in 
 store for the strange people that always 
 interested him. He knew that their race 
 was gradually dwindling away here in 
 England, and that few of the genuine
 
 THE GIPSIES. 51 
 
 descendants of the swarthy wanderers from 
 Egyptian or Tartarian deserts — as might 
 be — still survived. Intermarriage with 
 other vagabonds of British extraction had 
 tainted the pure Asian or Egyptian blood, 
 and he would sigh when he thought of it, 
 for he was somewhat of a dreamer, and 
 therefore not so utilitarian as his ao;e. He 
 had tried to puzzle out the Romany dialect, 
 but no sooner had he dug down to the root 
 of one verb, than he found it crossed by 
 some horrible English or Irish sister, and 
 so, as in the intermarriages, nothing but an 
 unintelligible jargon was left. 
 
 ' It is hard to drive them from pillar 
 to post till they are hunted out of the 
 world,' he would say, when Mr. Aspenel 
 remonstrated, ' and they are welcome to 
 my little bits of waste land, so long as I 
 have any left me.' 
 
 Mr. Aspenel, who never wasted words, 
 would turn on his heel, with the epithet 
 ' fool ' on his lips ; while Harton, who was 
 
 E 2 
 
 ^^^'''''^m 
 
 LLiUOia
 
 52 RESTITUTION. 
 
 a strictly religious man, would also mutter 
 the same word, but with an addenda wliich 
 made it legitimate : 'Thou fool! this night 
 thy soul shall be required of thee.' Thus 
 these neighbours were always at issue, not 
 only on this, but on every subject that 
 ought to have made them more neighbourly. 
 Mr. Aspenel was not, however, the only 
 neighbour who blamed Mr. Harton, and, 
 when on a biting winter's day Fan was 
 thrust upon his tender mercies, they all 
 said, ' Serve him right ' — all except his 
 rector and friend, the Rev. Philip Austen, 
 a o-ood man and true, who would fain have 
 made all Christendom Christ-like. 
 
 Nobody could doubt that Fan was a 
 born gipsy, but how she came to Roselands 
 in mid-winter not even Mr. Harton could 
 guess. His gipsy friends always visited 
 him in spring, summer, or autumn, but 
 never in Avinter. During that inclement 
 season they usually migrated to the towns, 
 or lived in their vans, if they had them ;
 
 THE GIPSIES. 53 
 
 at any rate his land was free of them, 
 therefore he could not account for Fan. 
 His wife had found her one morning out- 
 side the garden-gate, with her long black 
 hair matted with hoar-frost, and her poor 
 little bare feet covered with chilblains ; had 
 found her just where she is standing now, 
 watching her young neighbours, and long- 
 ing to be ' as fair as a lily, like Edith.' 
 Ten years or thereabouts before she had 
 been watching for her mother and a pro- 
 mised cake, but, when Mrs. Harton appear- 
 ed, had said, with more of the London than 
 the Romany dialect, ^ Give us a copper 
 please, mum.' 
 
 ' She was evidently a precocious child,' 
 said Mrs. Harton. ' Much more forward in 
 talking than had been either Jack or Tom.' 
 All that Mrs. Harton could get from her 
 was that her name was Fan, and her 
 mother's. Clorandy, and that she was to 
 stay by the gate till she got her a cake. 
 Eut as neither mother nor cake appeared,
 
 54 KESTITUTION. 
 
 and Mrs. Harton, who was as generous as 
 her husband, could not let a child die of 
 cold at her very door, Fan was taken into 
 Hoplands and regaled with hot broth, 
 while Jack Avas set to watch for the errant 
 parent. She never returned, and there 
 was no clue to Fan's history ; not even the 
 initialed garment or amulet of romance. 
 Mr. Harton closely questioned his friends 
 the gipsies, but, either from clanship or 
 absolute lack of knowledge, he elicited 
 nothing. Clorandy, or Clorinda, was a 
 favourite name, and there were several 
 gipsy women who bore it, but none was 
 forthcoming, so he gradually ceased to 
 inquire, leaving the development of the 
 child's history to Providence. 
 
 The Union was suggested for her abode^ 
 and would probably have been accepted, 
 had not Master Jack taken a great fancy 
 to her, and, as he was youngest born and 
 his mother's favourite, she was received 
 into the Hoplands kitchen pending inquiry.
 
 THE GIPSIES. 55 
 
 It ended in her remaining there for a few 
 weeks, but finally Mrs. Harton kept her 
 until she should be claimed by the gipsies. 
 As this never took place, and as she proved 
 a very amusing and companionable child, 
 she was allowed to grow up at Hoplands. 
 At first her protectors meant to make a 
 servant of her, but somehow she slipped 
 into their affections, and, when Mrs. Har- 
 ton Avas taken ill, became a necessity to 
 that good lady. When Mrs. Harton died, 
 she became equally a necessity to her hus- 
 band, and so, as general messenger for the 
 master, romp and plaything of the boys, 
 and torment of the servants, Fan grew up 
 with a very desultory education. 
 
 At first she was sent to the village-school 
 with the village children ; then she was ad- 
 vanced to a superior seminary whither the 
 farmers' daughters went before they were 
 drafted to boarding-school, and finally one 
 of the inmates of the Roselands Cottages 
 had asked to be allowed to complete her
 
 56 RESTITUTION. 
 
 education on the voluntary system, as she 
 refused remuneration ; and Fan was terribly 
 trammeled by the reading of abstruse 
 books under the supervision of a lady who 
 had once been a governess in a nobleman's 
 family. 
 
 * Why didn't the nobleman keep her, 
 and not let her come down here to bother 
 me ?' Fan had frequently asked of her 
 friend Jack. 
 
 ' Because the nobleman was very glad to 
 get rid of her, and have board and lodging 
 found for her without dipping into his 
 purse,' replied shrewd Jack. 
 
 Fan was still completing her education 
 with Miss Vigors when she uttered that 
 irrational wish respecting her complexion, 
 and Mr. Harton lived on in hopes that he 
 might eventually find in her an intellec- 
 tual companion. He was, himself, a great 
 reader, and malicious people whispered 
 that it would be better for himself and his 
 family if he read less, and attended more
 
 THE GIPSIES. 57 
 
 to his affairs. He looked, indeed, a book- 
 worm as he sat in his somewhat uneasy 
 chair with a ponderous tome beside him, 
 and a black velvet cap surmountin;^ his 
 hio;h and broad forehead. He was a laro^e 
 man both as regarded width and height, 
 and, not having as yet grown the patri- 
 archal beard, his well-shaven face was 
 clearly developed. His features were 
 regular, and his dark eyes had an expres- 
 sion of humour that mingled now and 
 again with their more prevailing one of 
 thought. But, whatever his mood, nothing 
 destroyed the sweetness of that character- 
 indicator, the mouth, and his boys were 
 wont to say that, however cross father 
 might be, his mouth was always good- 
 tempered. 
 
 'I don't like Miss Aspenel as well as 
 Miss Janet, but I wish I was as fair as she,' 
 cried Fan, breaking in upon Mr. Harton's 
 musings, followed by the dogs. 
 
 Tossing off her hat, she took the stool at
 
 58 RESTITUTION. 
 
 his feet vacated by Janet, and the four 
 dogs grouped themselves round her. 
 
 ' You are jealous, lass. Your poor 
 mother always said that was your worst 
 fault.' 
 
 ' Then I will cure of it/ said Fan, setting 
 her face and clenching her teeth, and sud- 
 denly grasping the shaggy coat of a re- 
 triever who lay nearest to her. ' All gipsies 
 are jealous. I wish I weren't a born gipsy, 
 don't you, old Rolf?' 
 
 She tugged at the dog's hair until he 
 turned round upon her with remonstrating 
 e3'es and a whine. 
 
 ' He'd have bitten anybody else, Fan,' 
 said Mr. Harton. 
 
 ' Of course he would. Sir, and quite right 
 too. But he knows me, and the sort of 
 girl 1 am ; don't you, Rolf?' 
 
 Rolfs paws were instantly on her shoul- 
 ders, and his tongue uncomfortably pro- 
 truded towards her cheek. 
 
 ' I wish Jack had Rolf, don't you, Sir ?
 
 THE GIPSIES. 59 
 
 Jack has nobody, and I can't go and keep 
 his house, because you couldn't do without 
 me, could you. Sir?' 
 
 She had been taught, as a child, to call 
 Mr. Harton ' Sir,' and she had now no other 
 name for him. If she inquired for him, it 
 was as often, 'Where is Sir?' as 'Where is 
 Mr. Harton ?' 
 
 'What a question. Fan. You are the 
 only one at home just now. Of course 1 
 could not do without you. But is not this 
 your afternoon for Miss Vigors ?' 
 
 ' I have just been to tell her that, as you 
 have the rheumatism, I am wanted at 
 home.' 
 
 ' Naughty Fan. I thought you were 
 interested in that book I lent Miss Vigors 
 on geology.' 
 
 ' It is a bad book, sir. I don't believe a 
 word of it. It tries to make one think 
 that a day is thousands of years, and I 
 know very well that a day means a day, 
 and nothing more ; and I haven't the least
 
 «60 RESTITUTION. 
 
 interest in old stones, and fossils, and 
 things that happened before the Deluge, 
 and even the Bible. I like the world and 
 the people just as they are, and don't care 
 a straw for the pre-Adamites. It is all 
 bosh.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right, Fan. But what 
 does Miss Vigors say ? She is pre-eminently 
 intellectual.' 
 
 Fan burst out into a most unintellectual 
 fit of laughter, in which Mr. Harton joined, 
 for, though he delighted in a literary gossip 
 with Miss Vigors, he never thought of her 
 without a smile. 
 
 ' Here is Mr. Austen,' shouted Fan, jump- 
 ing up and running to the hall-door to let 
 in an elderly clergyman, the rector of 
 Roselands. 
 
 ' Well, Fan, and how is the invalid?' he 
 asked. 
 
 ' Scarcely an invalid, Austen,' came from 
 the dining-room, ' but right glad to see 
 you.'
 
 THE GIPSIES. 61 
 
 ' Jack is building a log-hut, and has 
 killed a skunk. What is a skunk, Mr. 
 Austen? Sir won't tell me. He says I 
 must look it out in the cyclopedia,' said 
 Fan, preceding him to Mr. Harton's chair. 
 
 ' Jack killed a skunk !' exclaimed Mr. 
 Austen. ' Wh}^, that is more than dogs 
 will do, he has such an intolerable odour. 
 He is a kind of weasel, Fan, happily de- 
 voted to home, and, unlike the young 
 people of this age, not as yet finding it 
 necessary to '' make the grand tour." He 
 hasn't come to Europe, as most Americans 
 do, and long may he stop at home.' 
 
 As soon as Mr. Austen was seated, Fan 
 ran off, followed by her dogs, and left the 
 two men to the discussion of affairs, public 
 and private.
 
 62 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 
 
 Edith, Janet, and Nurse True pursued 
 their way rapidly when they left Hoplands. 
 They skirted the park wall until they came 
 to that bone of contention, the Cottages. 
 These were half-a-dozen small houses, en- 
 closed within iron gates, and seated in the 
 centre of a kind of laAvn. The builder 
 must have had an eye to the picturesque, 
 for the frontage was pretty, and the veran- 
 dah that accompanied it light and airy. 
 Beneath this verandah were six doors and 
 six windows, and in front neat flower-beds 
 terminated by a gravel-walk. Above the 
 «aid verandah were six Elizabethan win-
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 63 
 
 clows, over wbich protecting eaves pro- 
 truded. On all sides save that which 
 opened into the road stretched fields, and 
 a more peaceful spot could scarcely be 
 conceived. In summer the houses were a 
 mass of flowers and creepers, and even in 
 this springtide the walls were not bare of 
 leaves. Primroses and violets flourished 
 everywhere, and a casual visitor would 
 have said how happy must be the inmates 
 of this sequestered scene. 
 
 Janet was the first to set foot on the 
 verandah. 
 
 ' Here we are, auntie, at last !' she 
 shouted, as she burst open the door, rushed 
 through the little hall, and upstairs into 
 the neatest, smallest, and most elegant of 
 sitting-rooms. ' Not here !' she added. 
 ' Then she must be in her room.' And she 
 tore off, heedless of ornaments, to a wee 
 and equally pretty sleeping apartment at 
 the back of the house. 
 
 As this was also empty, she ran down-
 
 64 KESTITUTION. 
 
 stairs at once, shouting 'Auntie' at the 
 top of her voice, and into a tiny kitchen. 
 Here a juvenile maid-of-all-work was toast- 
 ing and buttering tea-cakes. 
 
 ' What's up, Miranda?' she asked. And 
 the girl rejoicing in that high-sounding 
 name pointed to the back door. 
 
 She had the toasting-fork between her 
 teeth while she was manipulating the cake, 
 so she could not speak, and Janet, whose 
 dignity was easily offended, muttered, 
 
 ' That comes of taking Cousin Gerard's 
 slum-children into one's service.' 
 
 But she entered the miniature and spot- 
 less scullery, nevertheless, and went out 
 into what was magnificently styled ' the 
 back garden,' still screaming ^ Auntie.' 
 
 In another moment she had flung her- 
 self almost upon the back of a lady in a 
 broad hat and gardening apron, who, with 
 trowel in hand, was stooping over a bed of 
 ferns. 
 
 ' Wild as ever, Janet !' came from a
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 65 
 
 masculine voice, before Mrs. Clarville was 
 able to release herself. 
 
 * Cousin Gerard ! How jolly ! That is 
 why Miranda is buttering cakes,' screamed 
 Janet, leaving Mrs. Clarville and seizing 
 upon a stalwart young man who had his 
 foot on a spade. 
 
 He stooped to kiss her, and she nearly 
 upset him by twining her arms round his 
 neck. 
 
 ' Are there cakes enough for all, auntie ? 
 Edith and Nurse True are here, and we 
 are come to tea. Bruce has gone off with 
 Mrs. Aspenel, and we shall have you and 
 Gerard all to ourselves. Isn't it jolly? 
 We can sit four comfortably in the hall, 
 for you know Nurse True never will join 
 us, though you ask her. She always says, 
 " I know my place." ' 
 
 ' She certainly does ; which is more than 
 we can say of all our domestics,' laughed 
 Mrs. Clarville. 
 
 *We don't consider Nurse True a 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 RESTITUTION. 
 
 domestic, but a friend,' said Janet, offended. 
 
 ' But we are all domestics, Janet, if we 
 are worth anything,' put in Gerard. ' I 
 become one as soon as I come to Roselands. 
 In town there is nothing to domesticate 
 me.' 
 
 ' Poor Gerard ! You should have a 
 cat.' 
 
 ' My landlady's feline friend does pay 
 me a visit now and then, and I begin to 
 feel quite a family-man. Where is Miss 
 Aspenel ?' 
 
 ' Let us surprise her. I will bring her 
 here.' 
 
 Janet rushed off, and returned with 
 Edith and Nurse True. There was a 
 hearty greeting on all sides, but shy Edith 
 was not so demonstrative as her sister, 
 though very glad of an addition to the 
 little party. Besides, Gerard was not her 
 cousin, though she almost looked upon him 
 as one. 
 
 Mrs. Clarville was a distinguished-look-
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 67 
 
 ing woman, verging on fifty. She was 
 distinguished in other ways besides her 
 appearance. She was gentle-voiced and 
 gentle-mannered — a gentlewoman, in short. 
 Mr. Austen called her justly his peace- 
 maker, and said that his parish would be 
 paradise if all its female inhabitants were 
 like her. She was young-looking still, 
 and declared that there was nothing to 
 make her grow old, since she had all her 
 wants supplied, and Gerard was the best 
 of sons. 
 
 Although she was Janet's great-aunt, 
 the girl treated her as a companion, and a 
 sincere affection existed between them. 
 
 As to Gerard, he was Janet's beau-ideal 
 of a hero, although she was always wish- 
 ing that her hero was not a clerk in her 
 father's office. Still, he was a sort of 
 modern hero, for he was content to fight 
 his battle just where God appointed, and 
 he certainly had a hard field for his hand- 
 to-hand combat. He had his aspirations, 
 
 f2
 
 68 KESTITUTION. 
 
 as we all have, but he smothered some of 
 them for his mother's sake and others for 
 his own. He was personally like his 
 mother, and they both seemed too big for 
 the house they were in. As Janet said, 
 they filled it. 
 
 ' I shall help Miranda to lay the table, 
 and do everything, Nurse True,' said 
 Janet, decidedly ; ' so you may go and see 
 poor Miss Lome and Rebecca.' 
 
 ' Do. It will be kind to both,' said Mrs. 
 Clarville ; and Nurse True departed. 
 
 ' What have you done with your fringe, 
 Miranda?' asked Janet, while doing her 
 best to hinder that damsel in her work. 
 
 ' Missus wouldn't let me wear it,' replied 
 Miranda, with a crestfallen air. ^ I don't 
 know what the gals will say when I goes 
 home. You haven't got one, miss.' 
 
 ' No. I don't like them, and they are 
 going out of fashion. They are called the 
 factory system. You were a factory girl 
 were you not, Miranda ?'
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 69 
 
 ' No, miss, I was never notliin' till Mr. 
 Clarville brouglit me here, and now missus 
 says she'll make a servant of me. I'm the 
 eldest of eight, and father's out of work, 
 and I had to nurse, and wash, and every - 
 think, while mother went out charing.' 
 
 ' Had you a tiresome brother who wore 
 your life out ?' 
 
 ' Bless you, miss, I had seven ; but I'm 
 alive still ; and Mr. Clarville used to tell 
 us never to mind, if we could help it ; and 
 I tried not to mind.' 
 
 Janet grew reflective and thought to 
 herself, ' She is wiser than I.' Indeed the 
 wisdom of the world seemed to her to be 
 concentrated in that particular cottage, 
 small as it was. 
 
 To avoid dirtying the one sitting-room, 
 and to save trouble, Mrs. Clarville took 
 her meals in the miniature hall, and they 
 were quickly disposed of, as the kitchen 
 communicated with it. There was, as 
 Janet said, just room for four at the
 
 70 EESTITUTION. 
 
 oblong table, and on tbis occasion tbe 
 quartette was very cbeerful. Auntie's 
 tea-cakes and bread-and-butter were always 
 nicer than any at the Park, and certainly 
 superior to what her son got in London ; 
 so appetite was not wanting at the feast. 
 It was Gerard, not Miranda, who waited, 
 and not only helped the ladies, but fetched 
 the kettle from the kitchen, tended the 
 small stove, drew the curtain over the door 
 lest his mother should take cold, and made 
 himself so useful that Janet declared 
 he ought to have been a woman. She 
 sometimes called him a ' Molly.' 
 
 ' The best compliment you can pay me, 
 Janet, since this issaid^tobe "the woman's 
 age;" and, if we men don't bestir ourselves, 
 we shall be ousted from clerkships and 
 professions by the so-called softer sex,' 
 said Gerard. 
 
 ' How very much frightened the poor 
 women must be !' suggested Edith, to
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 71 
 
 whom the idea of publicity was dis- 
 tasteful. 
 
 ' On the contrary, Miss Aspenel, they 
 like it ; not all, perhaps, but most. You 
 would not.' 
 
 ' I should,' interrupted Janet. ' I am 
 going in for art, auntie. I am to be sent 
 to school.' 
 
 'The best thing that could happen to 
 you, Janet,' said Gerard ; but his mother 
 scarcely agreed. 
 
 When tea was over, he said he had much 
 work to do before he returned to town by 
 the last train. Janet volunteered to help, 
 and the pair went together to the small 
 plot of ground at the back, belonging to 
 Mrs. Clarville's cottage. They picked off 
 the dry fronds of the budding fern, com- 
 menting on the curled-up leaves, unfolding 
 so carefully at the call of spring. They 
 admired the green promise of fruit on the 
 six currant-bushes. ' The exact number
 
 72 RESTITUTION. 
 
 of the cottages,' said Janet. They pro- 
 fessed to weed the mustard-and-cress 
 where not a weed was to be seen, and 
 dug up such bits of ground as still lay 
 fallow. 
 
 ' It is multum in parvo, Janet. How 
 does the mother manage to get so much 
 into so little ?' said Gerard. 
 
 ' It is like her head ; it holds everything,' 
 was the reply. 
 
 Then the cousins went round to the 
 front, and fastened up the trailing para- 
 sites. While they were doing this, a 
 curious little figure stepped out from door 
 No. 2. 
 
 ' How do you do, Mr. Gerard ? You 
 are so tall and I am so short — short by 
 name and stature — that I cannot reach 
 that tiresome branch of japonica ; and, if 
 the wind catch it, good-bye to the tree,' it 
 said. 
 
 Gerard instantly used the hammer and 
 nails he held in his hand to confine the
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 73 
 
 obstreperous branch, while Miss Short and 
 Janet entered into a lively conversation. 
 
 The little lady was said to be over 
 eighty years of age, and held a walking- 
 stick as tall as herself, but was as brisk as 
 if she were eighteen. She was an incessant 
 talker, and was sometimes even too much 
 for Mrs. Clarville, who listened to the 
 complaints of her neighbours with exem- 
 plary patience. 
 
 ' Perhaps, my dear, you could prevail on 
 your excellent father to lay down a little 
 gravel in front and send a tiler to the roof. 
 Timms would come at once, if he was sure 
 of payment. And, now the spring is on, 
 he might perhaps paint up the doors and 
 windows for us ; for truly we are going to 
 decay. Nothing personal, my dear ; I am 
 quite well, thank you. And, as you see, 
 the verandah wants looking to, and the 
 very pavement is cracking. When I see 
 your dear mamma, I will represent it to 
 her; for your papa is so much engaged
 
 74 RESTITUTION. 
 
 that I never meet him. I don't know 
 what we should do without Mr. Gerard, 
 who is our Jack-of-all-trades, for there's 
 nothing he cannot do, and, my dear, he's 
 willing to do it, which one can't say of all 
 men, young or old.' 
 
 When the japonica was properly affixed, 
 Gerard said he was bound to go in to see Mrs. 
 Lucy, for she considered that she had a 
 right to him, being a widow, like his 
 mother. Miss Short tramped off, making 
 a rattle on the pavement with her walking- 
 stick, and Gerard and Janet were soon 
 ushered upstairs into a tiny apartment of 
 the exact size of Mrs. Clarville's but less 
 elegantly furnished. The chairs and tables 
 were too big for the room, and the portraits 
 that surrounded it must have come from 
 some ancestral dining-room belonging to 
 previous members of the Lucy family. 
 
 Mrs. Lucy was sitting bolt upright in 
 one of the big, antique chairs. She held
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 75 
 
 out a limp hand, and welcomed them in 
 a melancholy voice. She always had a 
 grievance, and aired it whenever she could. 
 To-day it was Miss Short's walking-stick, 
 which was too much for her nerves; but, 
 not being on visiting terms with Miss 
 Short, she could not take the liberty of 
 telling her how excruciating was the tap, 
 tap, tap of her very ponderous support. 
 
 Gerard apologised for a short visit, and 
 she said, with a deep sigh, that everybody 
 was in a hurry in these fast days, but that 
 she could not expect young people to stay 
 with one who could no longer amuse them, 
 and who was reduced from affluence to 
 dependence. 
 
 ' I'm sure Gerard would stay if he had 
 time,' exclaimed Janet. 
 
 * I must inquire for the others, or my 
 reputation will be gone,' said Gerard, tap- 
 ping at No. 4. 
 
 Miss Lih^ton was away on a visit, and
 
 76 RESTITUTION. 
 
 No. 5 — Miss Vigors — had gone off in 
 search of Fan and to have a gossip with 
 Mr. Harton. 
 
 'Mistress will be sadly vexed to miss 
 you, sir ; for she says she enjoys an intel- 
 lectual talk,' said a middle-aged woman, 
 who had followed Miss Vigors to her pres- 
 ent abode from a more pretentious one in 
 which she formerly kept a school. 
 
 It was remarkable that three out of the 
 six of these ladies had faithful friends, who 
 had clung to them through good and ill. 
 Gerard always said that this told well for 
 human nature. 
 
 At No. 6, the last of the cottages, they 
 were greeted by Nurse True, who was 
 standing at the door with her particular 
 friend, Rebecca Sure. She was waiting for 
 Mrs. Clarville and Edith, who were up- 
 stairs with poor, bedridden Miss Lome. 
 All the inmates of the Cottages had his- 
 tories more or less sad, but none interested 
 Janet so much as Rebecca's, for, although
 
 THE OLD LADIES. 77 
 
 she was an elderly woman, there was still 
 a romance to be ended in her life ; for had 
 she not still a lover? and had not old 
 Stroke, the blacksmith, been waiting for 
 her ever since they were both young, only 
 (how many bnts and onlys there are in 
 life !) — only she would not marry so long 
 as her mistress lived. That mistress had 
 been the daughter of a previous incumbent 
 of Roselands, and had devoted her life to 
 works of love. Amongst these had been 
 the bringing up as servant at the rectory 
 of the orphan Rebecca, who had never left 
 her from that day to this. 
 
 At the moment when she and Nurse 
 True were saying their 4ast words,' Miss 
 Lome was saying hers to Mrs. Clarville 
 and Edith. 
 
 ' Good-bye, dear friends. It seems as if 
 the Lord was long in calling me ; but He 
 knows best. He summons the young 
 and vigorous, and leaves the cumberers of 
 the ground, like me. It seems mysterious.
 
 78 RESTITUTION. 
 
 I shall have lived ninety years ere long, 
 and Rebecca is over sixty — happy years 
 most of them ; and now at their close God 
 has sent you to me, dear Mrs. Clarville, 
 and I thank Him heartily. You, Rebecca, 
 and Mr. Austen, and you, my darling 
 Edith — so like your mother ! — are indeed 
 very good to me.'
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 
 
 No one knew exactly how Gerard Clarville 
 had got into Mr. Aspenel's office. Neither 
 he nor his mother could account for it. 
 He was, in most respects, quite unlike his 
 patron, and had to use much circumspec- 
 tion in his dealings with him ; but how it 
 was that he had been actually chosen by 
 him as clerk, and how he had managed to 
 keep his situation for six years, he could 
 not understand. His mother had been 
 with Mr. Aspenel at the time of the death 
 of his second wife, and he had, in some 
 slight degree, relaxed his constrained and 
 formal manners towards her ; but why he
 
 80 KESTITUTION. 
 
 had selected Gerard, of whom he knew 
 literally nothing, as one of his acting aids, 
 was a riddle both to him and his mother, 
 who had merely mentioned once that she 
 had an only son struggling for a main- 
 tenance. 
 
 Gerard was six-and-twenty, and like 
 most active-minded yomig men often 
 kicked against the goad of his wearisome 
 and subservient life ; but his watchword 
 was duty, and his love his mother. He 
 owed everything to her, for she had sacri- 
 ficed literally ' all her living ' to give him 
 a fine education ; and to make of him a 
 gentleman and a Christian had been the 
 paramount desire of her widowed life. He 
 had not realised that to send him to col- 
 lege she had sold out of the funds and 
 otherwise crippled her own means ; but 
 when he did realise it he declared his in- 
 tention of accepting the first situation that 
 offered. Her wish was to see him take 
 orders, but as he felt no special call to the
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 81 
 
 ministry, and did not see how lie could 
 complete his collegiate course, she was 
 obliged to yield her will to his. When 
 she, finally, anchored at the Cottages, he 
 knew that he had done right. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel kept him, as well as all his 
 other dependents, sharply to their work. 
 He grudged them their holidays, and 
 doubtless would have found enough to 
 employ them on Sundays as well as week 
 days, had that been discreet, or, rather, had 
 it looked respectable in the world's eyes. 
 As it was. Bank Holidays and the Saturday 
 conge were an abomination to him, and Sir 
 John Lubbock would not have been grati- 
 fied had he heard w^hat he said of him. 
 Not that he always granted his people 
 their Bank Holiday, since he was pleased 
 to affirm that he w^as not a banker, and 
 that his dealings all over the world neces- 
 sitated work all the year round. And we 
 need scarcely say, in these days of over- 
 flowing population, that he found people 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 RESTITUTION. 
 
 willing to work and grumble from year's 
 end to year's end. 
 
 Not so Gerard. He held his own and 
 received his due in the Avay of occasional 
 recreation, and he always spent it at Rose- 
 lands with his mother. He v/as a Sunday 
 institution there, and helped the rector in 
 choir, school, and evening class ; he even 
 read the lessons for him. Mr. Austen's 
 children, male and female, were all married 
 and settled at a distance ; so that Gerard 
 became almost as great a necessity to him 
 as to the old ladies, who equally adopted 
 him. The latter began to assume that 
 they had as great a right to him as his 
 mother had, and nothing went on in the 
 six small dwellings without reference to 
 Mr. Gerard. What he would think of the 
 planting of such a flower, or the arrange- 
 ment of such a picture, or the settling of 
 such a difference, was a constant resource 
 to these forlorn females, who often asserted 
 that, ' had all men been like Mr. Gerard,
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 83 
 
 now, they need never have been reduced 
 to live upon charity.' How unojrateful we 
 all are ! We even complain of the warmth 
 of the hand that feeds us. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel sometimes honoured Gerard 
 with an invitation to dinner of a Saturday 
 night, when he and his mother went in 
 state to the Park. Mrs. Clarville looked 
 on Mr. Aspenel as a two-fold benefactor, 
 and always did her best to uphold him 
 when, behind his back, other people 
 knocked him down ; and she never ven- 
 tured to decline his invitations. Thus 
 Gerard had become tolerably well ac- 
 quainted with Mrs. Aspenel, her son, and 
 step-daughters, who generally welcomed 
 him kindly. He was a good-looking fel- 
 low, and probably that had something to 
 do with it. Janet and Miss Sharp were 
 not far wrono^ in callino; him a Jack-of- 
 all-trades ; but none was more perplexing 
 than that of being factotum to three 
 mdows and three spinsters. 
 
 g2
 
 84 KESTITUTION. 
 
 Not that he was their onl}^ masculine 
 consolation. Contrary to custom, widow- 
 ers preponderated in the village, and the 
 rector and Mr. Harton, being untrammelled 
 by the fair sex, were ahvays ready for a 
 gossip with the ladies when they came 
 across them. Mr. Harton's sons, particu- 
 larly Jack, had been the plague of their 
 lives ; but they were happily dispersed or 
 dead, for he had lost two, and the Cottages 
 were at peace. Of Mr. Aspenel they. saw 
 nothing, with the exception of Mrs. Clar- 
 ville, who, being a connection, was of course 
 privileged. But they were even more bitter 
 against him than were his clerks, for, like 
 the dog in the manger, he would not take 
 the management, repairs, and ornamenta- 
 tion of their small abodes upon himself, nor 
 let Lord Beechton take it. His lordship 
 was very kind, nevertheless, and often sent 
 them game, which was more than Mr. 
 Aspenel ever did. 
 
 At about six o'clock of the day of our
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 85 
 
 introduction to Roselands, Nurse True in- 
 terrupted a merry quartette in Mrs. Clar- 
 ville's pretty sitting-room, by saying that 
 it was time for her young ladies to depart; 
 and the little gathering walked together to 
 the big iron gates that enclosed the minia- 
 ture park containing six houses instead of 
 one. Prudent Mrs. Clarville had prevented 
 Gerard's accompanying his young friends 
 home from their earliest acquaintance ; 
 because, she said, Mr. Aspenel might not 
 like it. Accordingly they parted at the 
 gates. Just as they were shaking hands, 
 Miss Vigors appeared. She seized Gerard's 
 hand and held it in both hers, to Janet's 
 great amusement. She was the strong- 
 minded and literary member of the sister- 
 hood, and, like Gerard, helped Mr. Austen 
 in the parish. She would have managed 
 the world had she had her will. 
 
 ' Fan is entirely spoilt. They let her 
 have her way in everything,' she began, as 
 she and the Clarvilles turned towards the
 
 S6 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Cottages. ' Only think, Mr. Gerard, slie 
 begins to argue upon pre-Adaraite and pre- 
 diluvian matters with Mr. Harton, and he 
 encourages her.' 
 
 Gerard laughed, saying Fan was Fan, 
 and he supposed she must have her way. 
 
 At last he and his mother were alone, 
 and they had still an hour or more before 
 his mile's walk to the station. They had 
 much to talk of when seated side by side 
 on the couch opposite the window. The 
 aspect of the Cottages was west, and they 
 could just see the setting sun beyond the 
 far-stretching fields, and through the trees 
 of the wide-reaching park. On the left 
 was a grove in which the nightingales were 
 already beginning their wonderful song ; 
 for the evening was warm and spring well 
 advanced. All the harmony of the bird- 
 spheres swelled about that befriended 
 spot, and, as Mrs. Clarville often said, 
 nature had conspired with man to bless it. 
 Her son once added, maliciously,
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 87 
 
 ' But Mother Eve's progeny conspire to 
 introduce the trail of the serpent.' 
 
 'You still get on with Mr. Aspenel, 
 Gerard ?' asked the anxious mother. 
 
 ' I believe so ; I do my best. He is too 
 cautious either to praise or blame ; but, 
 when he finds any deflilcation, he dismisses 
 the offender. I had hard work to get him 
 to raise my salary, but he has done so, and 
 I begin to think myself as rich as he, with 
 two hundred a-year and no particular 
 anxiety.' 
 
 ' He finds you of use, Gerard.' 
 
 * Perhaps so ; but he will not make a 
 cat's-paw either of you or me. He wants 
 us to have an eye on the gipsies that are 
 beginning to frequent Mr. Harton's land ; 
 but I can't meddle with them, and ventured 
 to say that 3'ou only visited them occasion- 
 ally in a philanthropic sort of way. He 
 mentioned one known as Wandering Will, 
 whose movements he was anxious to 
 follow, and said that mischief was sure to
 
 88 RESTITUTION. 
 
 arise wherever he appeared. " As to that 
 fool, Harton," he added, " he will be the 
 means of s^ettins: us all robbed, if not 
 murdered." ' 
 
 ' Brotherly love and not persecution is 
 the best antidote to the poison he fears,' 
 said Mrs. Clarville. ' 1 will do my best to 
 instil it.' 
 
 ' He asked me if I would accept a posi- 
 tion in South America with a still increased 
 salary, and I said I could not leave you, 
 mother.' 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! Don't let me ruin your 
 prospects. It will never do to offend Mr. 
 Aspenel.' 
 
 ' He was not offended, I hope ; but he 
 dismissed me ' 
 
 ' Gerard !' interrupted Mrs. Clarville, 
 alarmed. 
 
 * Not from his service, mother, but from 
 his presence.' 
 
 'When did this take place?' 
 
 'Yesterday, and I have not seen him
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 89 
 
 since. But there are hundreds of his 
 slaves ready to go to the world's end for 
 money, so he can easily supply my place. 
 Money is the " golden idol " that this our 
 Nebuchadnezzar has set up ; and his sub- 
 jects are ready enough to fail down and 
 worship it. I question if even the " three 
 children " could be found to withstand the 
 bait; 
 
 ' You have, my son !' 
 
 ' For your sake, mother. But for you, 
 perhaps I, too, should yield.' 
 
 Mrs. Clarville took Gerard's hand, and 
 they sat a few moments silent, gazing 
 through the leaf-encased window at the 
 dying day. The picture of St. Augustine 
 and his mother, Monica, might have repre- 
 sented the pair. 
 
 ' Is this enormous wealth gathered 
 honestly ?' asked Mrs. Clarville. ' Are 
 your hands clean ?' 
 
 ' Honestly as the merchant world counts 
 it ; that is to say, wealth somehow breeds
 
 90 EESTITUTION. 
 
 wealth, but it would be difficult to give an 
 account of its accumulation. I who have 
 to reckon up a portion of it day by day, 
 should not like to know the history of each 
 sovereign. But, happily, my hands are 
 clean enough, unless the touch of the pen 
 and ledger defile them, like pitch.' 
 
 Again there was silence. Mrs. Clarville 
 broke it. 
 
 ' I would rather you lost your situation 
 than that you should be corrupted by 
 gold.' 
 
 ' No fear at present, dear mother. Two 
 hundred a-year will not demoralise me.' 
 
 Gerard laughed merrily, and his mother 
 caught the infection. There was a tap at 
 the door. 
 
 ' I am so glad to hear you laughing, and 
 that you are here, Mr. Gerard. I have 
 just come home unexpectedly, and find 
 that tiresome Julietta out, and no fire any- 
 w^here.' 
 
 This was said by Miss Lily ton, who was
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 91 
 
 the youngest, weakest, and prettiest of 
 Gerard's six allies. She had a drooping 
 figure, flaxen hair, of which she was j ustly 
 proud, since it had survived unscathed 
 the wear and tear of youth, and a pale, 
 interesting face. 
 
 'Let me help you,' exclaimed Gerard, 
 starting to his feet. *I constantly light 
 my own fire, and Miranda can come and 
 help also.' 
 
 'Oh, no, if you please, Mr. Gerard. 
 Julietta is already jealous of Miranda, 
 and she would leave me at once if she 
 knew.' 
 
 ' All right ; I can manage it. I have a 
 box of safety-matches in my pocket.' 
 
 In less than no time Gerard was on his 
 knees before Miss Lily ton's tiny grate, and 
 had soon kindled a cheerful flame. Julietta 
 slunk in during the process, and he ad- 
 ministered a lecture which he knew Miss 
 Lilyton would fear to do, and departed. 
 
 Thus ended his holiday, and when he
 
 92 RESTITUTION. 
 
 returned to his mother lie told her that 
 she must look after Miss Lily ton, because 
 she seemed worse than usual, and he knew 
 not what the rector or the choir would do 
 without her. She played the organ and 
 helped with the choir during the week, 
 when the organist, who was also school- 
 master, was otherwise engaged. Gerard 
 was wont to say, 
 
 ' You might travel the world over, and 
 not find six more useful ladies than ours ; 
 only I wish they would not interfere with 
 one another's work.' 
 
 At eight o'clock he hastily took some 
 refreshment prepared by his mother for 
 him, and, as the night was fine, he prevailed 
 on her to walk with him to the station. 
 Miranda followed, carrying pompously her 
 mistress's mackintosh and the door-key. 
 The moon was up, and looked brightly 
 down upon the mother and son as they 
 hastened on arm-in-arm. The nightingales 
 were harmonising the moonlit twilight, and
 
 A JACK OF ALL TRADES. 9»5 
 
 all save they was in repose. Nature at rest 
 calms the soul, and Gerard almost whis- 
 pered to his mother, as if from fear of 
 arousing her. 
 
 They skirted the park w^all, went through 
 the village, past the old church and school- 
 house, and into the country road. They 
 reached the station just as the train dashed 
 in. An embrace, a fervent ' God bless 
 you !' and a ' Good-bye, Miranda,' and 
 Gerard was off.
 
 94 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HIS daughters' education. 
 
 Several days elapsed before Mrs. Aspenel 
 could speak to lier husband concerning the 
 desirability of sending Janet to school. He 
 had remained in London two or three 
 nights, and had brought friends, or, more 
 properly, acquaintances, to the Park on 
 the others. She broached the subject at 
 breakfast, when Mr. Aspenel suddenly 
 looked up from his paper and inquired if 
 Mrs. Nunn were gone. 
 
 This ill-matched pair sat opposite each 
 ■other in a delightful breakfast-room, he 
 engrossed in some calculation induced by 
 the shipping-news, she reading her letters.
 
 HIS daughters' education. 95 
 
 He was, as usual, scrupulously got up, 
 and, personally, at least, he was unobjec- 
 tionable. Save for ^ the ferrets,' as she 
 called his eyes, he would have been even 
 good-looking. She was decidedly hand- 
 some, and a stranger would have said, 
 ' What a prosperous, happy couple !' But 
 strangers always make mistakes. First 
 impressions are delusive and hasty judg- 
 ments unsound. At least, it is best to 
 think twice in most cases. 
 
 ' Mrs. Nunn left last week, and I wish 
 to consult you on what it is best to do 
 with your daughters. At their respective 
 ages they cannot be left to the exclusive 
 instruction of their nurse,' said Mrs. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 She always spoke to her husband satir- 
 ically ; she could not help it. She neither 
 knew nor cared whether he understood 
 her manner or not, and he never gave sign 
 of doing so. 
 
 * My daughters ! Can't you teach them,
 
 96 KESTITUTION. 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel? You are very talented,' lie 
 replied, returning to the shipping interest. 
 
 ' I ! What will you propose next ? I 
 think Janet, at least, should be sent to 
 school. She is beyond my control, and 
 treats Bruce abominably. They are always 
 squabbling.' 
 
 * Bruce ! School !' repeated Mr. Aspenel, 
 who had a habit of saying over the last 
 words of the person to whom he was speak- 
 ing, while his mind was intent on its own 
 particular problem. 
 
 'Yes; Bruce will do better without 
 Janet, and she may perhaps be controlled 
 at school.' 
 
 'But schools are so expensive. Some 
 run you up bills of a couple of hundred 
 pounds. I could not afford it, I have had 
 so many losses lately. I may be on the 
 verge of ruin.' 
 
 'Then it might be wise to give your 
 daughters such an education as might 
 enable them to support themselves. As
 
 HIS daughters' education. 97 
 
 you are polite enough to consider me ac- 
 complished, I might also turn my talents 
 to account.' 
 
 'Account! It is difficult to make up 
 one's accounts, Mrs. Aspenel. Mine are so 
 complicated that it is impossible to keep 
 them distinct, and, although you will not 
 believe it, I may be ruined any moment. 
 I wanted to send young Clarville to look 
 after my affairs in America, and he won't 
 go. I call that ingratitude, seeing that 
 both he and his mother owe everything to 
 me.' 
 
 'A heavy debt, indeed, Mr. Aspenel ! 
 A nomination to a charitable institution 
 that you do not support, and a clerkship 
 that probably costs you little !' 
 
 ' Two hundred a-year. And he declines 
 to oblige me, because he can't leave his 
 mother.' 
 
 ' I hope Bruce may turn out as good a 
 son, Mr. Aspenel. But what are we to do 
 with Edith and Janet ? I have written to 
 
 VOL, I. H
 
 98 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Lady Ascham, and she recommends several 
 schools.' 
 
 Something like a smile passed over Mr. 
 Aspenel's enigmatical face as he replied,' 
 
 ' Lady Ascham ! She has a registry- 
 office, hasn't she ? What percentage does 
 she get ?' 
 
 * Really, Mr. Aspenel, you insult Lady 
 Ascham. She is very philanthropic, and 
 interests herself in finding situations and 
 canvassing for votes for all sorts of people. 
 She knows all the institutions and schools, 
 both at home and abroad.' 
 
 ' Depend upon it, she doesn't work for 
 nothing. Nobody does. But she needn't 
 expect a percentage from me. since I am 
 not to be taken in. The aristocracy are 
 just as fond of money as the rest of us, 
 and go into trade, or drive coaches and 
 omnibuses, or keep cabs and job them, or 
 do anything to hold them above water. 
 You would be surprised at the applica- 
 tions I have from them for positions that
 
 HIS daughters' education. 99 
 
 they could not fill. But I am wide awake.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel laughed satirically. 
 
 'In business, perhaps, but not at home,' 
 she said. 
 
 ' Which school does Lady Ascham re- 
 commend ?* he asked. 
 
 ' Here are the prospectuses she has sent 
 me,' she replied, passing a heap of papers 
 a,cross the table. 
 
 ' I will look them over, ^Irs. Aspenel. 
 It might not cost much more to send 
 Janet to school than to keep a governess 
 at home.' 
 
 ' You must do both ; for Edith's educa- 
 tion is not finished, and Bruce must be 
 taught.' 
 
 ' I cannot be bored by another governess, 
 always complaining and wanting an increase 
 of salary. Why can't Edith have lessons 
 of the old ladies at the Aspenel Homes ? 
 They are all highly educated, and would 
 be glad of an extra pound or so. There 
 is Miss Lilyton for music, Mrs. Vigors 
 
 h2
 
 100 KESTITUTION. 
 
 for general literature, Mrs. Clarville for 
 languages, and ' 
 
 Mr. Aspenel's calculations were arrested 
 by a laugh so unaffected that he looked at 
 his wife in astonishment. Natural laughter 
 was not her tendency. 
 
 ' Poor Edith !' she exclaimed. ' Miss 
 Short might teach her how to use a walk- 
 ing-stick, and Mrs. Lucy give her lessons 
 in deportment.' 
 
 ' Precisely. Will you settle it ? I dare- 
 say twenty pounds a-year would cover it 
 all; and money is a consideration just now, 
 when one's ships are going to pieces like 
 cartridge-paper. What with the storms and 
 the shocks of earthquake, and the tidal 
 wave, and one confounded thing and 
 another, there's no calculating either dis- 
 tance or atmosphere. A fog comes on, and 
 an ironclad goes down, and with it one of 
 one's own vessels. I don't see what use 
 the weather forecasts are, when one's ships 
 are in mid-ocean. You may laugh, Mrs.
 
 HIS daughters' education. 101 
 
 Aspenel, but these are serious times — very 
 serious times.' 
 
 ' Providence circumvents plans. Still, 
 a few hundred thousands would not be of 
 much moment to you, who have millions at 
 your disposal.' 
 
 ' Millions ! Where did you pick up that 
 notion ? Why, the times are so bad that 
 we may soon be without a house over our 
 heads. I assure you the failures are 
 enormous, and my speculation in West 
 Indian sugar-plantations has been worse 
 than a loss. Those rascally Germans, with 
 their beetroot sugar, undersell and ruin us.' 
 
 'Ah, I hear there are great complaints 
 against the influx of Germans in London 
 and elsewhere.' 
 
 ' Capital fellows ! They work for next 
 to nothing, and live on less than that. If 
 Clarville doesn't take care — and you may 
 tell his mother so — he w^ill be superseded 
 by a German, who won't want his salary 
 raised.'
 
 102 EESTITUTION. 
 
 * You will let me know about the school^ 
 Mr. Aspenel ; for there is no time to lose, 
 if your daughters are to be made fit for 
 their station in life.' 
 
 ' Station ! Ah, to be sure. I will look 
 over these ; but you can settle with the 
 old ladies about Edith. She is better at 
 home.' 
 
 If there was a vulnerable part in Mr. 
 Aspenel's ojold-encased heart, his daughter 
 Edith had found it. His wife knew this, 
 and, with that strange inconsistency attri- 
 buted to human nature, was jealous of it — 
 jealous on her own and her boy's account. 
 While her husband was gathering up the 
 prospectuses, she cast another arrow at 
 him. 
 
 ' Is Bruce also to be consigned to the old 
 ladies ?' 
 
 ^ I should think you could teach him for 
 the present, Mrs. Aspenel — until, at least, 
 I am more at ease concerning my foreign 
 investments.'
 
 HIS DAUGHTEES' EDUCATION. 103 
 
 'From India to Peru, Mr. Aspenel?' 
 
 ' Just so ; or from Australia to Chili. 
 As soon as Harton's son Tom returns from 
 abroad, I think of asking him to undertake 
 Bruce. He wouldn't charge much, and 
 would be glad of a little help. His father's 
 going to the dogs.' 
 
 Further discussion was cut short by Mr. 
 Aspenel glancing at his watch, and find- 
 ing himself five minutes late. He bustled 
 off with a hasty ' Good-morning, Mrs. 
 Aspenel,' and left that lady to her thoughts. 
 She did not indulge in them long, however, 
 but went to her morning-room, and bade 
 her maid summon Edith. 
 
 ' What have you been doing, Edith ?' 
 was Janet's exclamation when the sum- 
 mons reached the school-room. 
 
 'You stopped out too late last night. 
 Mammy said so,' shouted Bruce. 
 
 ' We weren't out last night, you story- 
 teller,' said Janet, following Edith from 
 the room, and detaining her in the passage
 
 104 RESTITUTION. 
 
 with the following cautions : — ' Hold your 
 own, Edith. Don't be a white mouse any 
 longer. Say you're nearly grown up and 
 want finishing-masters. Say I must have 
 lessons in painting, and am ready to go to 
 school. Say we will both go to the same 
 school. Say ' 
 
 ' Dear Janet, I pray to say what is right. 
 I have learnt this from Nurse True. But 
 I have done nothing wrong and have no- 
 thing to fear.' 
 
 ' But she never sends for us at this hour, 
 Edith, and it is a shame you don't break- 
 fast with her and — papa.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel soon quieted Edith's mind 
 by telling her what her father had said 
 concerning her education. She had a 
 malicious pleasure in this, for she could 
 never rouse the girl to cast a stone at her 
 father. She was, however, deceived in her 
 notion that she would give annoyance. 
 
 ' What do you say to your finishing- 
 mistresses, Edith?' she asked, with her
 
 HIS daughters' education. 105 
 
 mocking laugh, which always grated on 
 the nerves of the delicate girl. 
 
 ' 1 should like them better than masters,' 
 replied Edith, smiling as she thought of 
 Janet's injunctions. 
 
 ' You would like to be taught by those 
 rusty pieces of machinery ?' 
 
 ' I would rather not leave home, and, as 
 papa objects to another governess, I might 
 pick up learning enough from the ladies, 
 if they Avould undertake me. They have 
 all been teachers in their youth except Mrs. 
 Clarville and Miss Lome. But they will 
 not like to begin again.' 
 
 ' AVhy do you prefer so doubtful and 
 desultor}^ an education to a school?' 
 
 ' Because I could not leave Nurse True. 
 And I might, perhaps, in time, be of use 
 to papa, and to you and Bruce.' 
 
 'Thank you, Edith, for including us. 
 Even the last dregs of sympathy are wel- 
 come when the full cup is denied one.' 
 
 ' I wish I could be of any use. Indeed,
 
 106 EESTITUTION. 
 
 I should clearly like to love you if you 
 would let me.' 
 
 Edith spoke these words timidly, for she 
 was afraid of her step-mother, but she had 
 long been waiting an opportunity to say 
 them, and now they came. She had not 
 realised that there are many people who 
 resist the encroachments of love until no 
 further inroads can be attempted ; some 
 from pride, others from coldness, all fi'om 
 lack of sympathy. In Mrs. Aspenel's case, 
 however, these encroachments had not 
 hitherto been attemj^ted, and they came 
 upon her with surprise. She believed 
 Edith to be hyjDocritical in making them, 
 and put her to the test. 
 
 ' If you are sincere in what you say, you 
 will undertake Bruce's education till Mr. 
 Tom Harton returns from his tutor-tour. 
 He will not learn of me.' 
 
 ' I would do my very best. If only I 
 could please papa, and be of some use to
 
 HIS daughters' education. 107 
 
 you, I should be quite hapj^y — at least, if 
 Janet were happy.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel was silent a minute, and 
 looked at Edith with some surprise. She 
 still misdoubted her. She had a suspicious 
 nature, and the circumstances of her mar- 
 ried life tended to foster it. She did not 
 believe it possible that any girl approach- 
 ing womanhood could be satisfied with the 
 life she led. She asked, therefore, 
 
 ' What do you expect from this self- 
 sacrifice ?' 
 
 'I do not quite understand you,' was 
 the repl3^ ' I should not be separated 
 from Nurse True, who has been with me 
 all my life. I would try to win Bruce's 
 and your love, and to help papa. I should 
 still visit the poor people, and teach in the 
 school. The animals and birds would not 
 miss their little treats, and my dog True 
 and my dove would not pine after me. I 
 am happier here than I should be at any
 
 108 RESTITUTION. 
 
 school, and it miglit amuse our ladies to 
 help me, as Miss Vigors helps Fan.' 
 
 Edith always called the inmates of the 
 Cottages ' our ladies.' She had an instinc- 
 tive dislike to ' the old ladies ' and ' the 
 old maids,' as employed by others. 
 
 ^ I wish you could talk over this matter 
 with your father as you are doing with 
 me, Edith,' said Mrs. Aspenel, with a voice 
 out of which had died all sarcasm and 
 asperity. 
 
 ' I should be afraid. Still, it is wrong 
 to fear one's own father,' replied Edith, 
 going close to Mrs. Aspenel, attracted by 
 the voice. 
 
 ' You might, perhaps, soften him, and 
 prove that there are better things in life 
 than gold.' 
 
 'My mother tried, and failed. But, as 
 Nurse True says, God can bring to nought 
 the treasures of this world, and open the 
 soul to receive those of another and a 
 better.'
 
 HIS daughters' education. 109' 
 
 As she spoke, Edith bent over Mrs, 
 Aspenel, and kissed her forehead. This 
 involuntary action touched her feelings. 
 The cold kiss night and morning impressed 
 on her cheek by her step-children had 
 been all the signs of affection hitherto 
 interchanged ; and this spontaneous act, 
 and the pressure of a small hand on her 
 shoulder, she felt to be genuine. 
 
 ' I am not so hard-hearted as you think 
 me, Edith,' she said. ' But Janet exasper- 
 ates me, and, between her and your father, 
 I know not how to endure the life I lead. 
 I should end it, but for Bruce.' 
 
 'Oh! Mrs. Aspenel.' 
 
 ' I do not mean that I should destroy 
 
 myself, but ' Mrs. Aspenel paused, 
 
 then added : ' Thank you for the first sym- 
 pathetic word I have heard since I married 
 your father.' 
 
 Again Edith kissed the forehead, and 
 felt a slight quiver run through the shoul- 
 der which her hand pressed. It was tran-
 
 110 RESTITUTION. 
 
 sitory, and the old satirical manner returned 
 when Mrs. Aspenel spoke again. 
 
 ' We will ask the old ladies to tea, and 
 see what they think of your father's original 
 plan. Suppose you all walk down with 
 the invitation this afternoon, for to-mor- 
 row. They are not so overdone with en- 
 gagements as to object to short notice. 
 Five o'clock, of course. You might sound 
 Mrs. Clarville. If her son chance to be 
 with her, tell her to bring him. What 
 dissipation for Janet ! Five calls in one 
 day !• 
 
 ' We shall all like to go,' said Edith, and 
 she returned to the school-room.
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 
 
 The ladies from the Cottages accepted 
 Mrs. Asperiel's invitation. They all arriv- 
 ed separately. There was no esprit de corps 
 amono;st them, and they took some pride 
 in being independent of one another : and 
 what is independence, if it is not to have 
 a house of one's own, which each of them 
 had ? Mrs. Aspenel, who was by nature 
 hospitable, had provided something more 
 than a five-o'clock tea for them, and they 
 partook of a substantial meal. Unfortu- 
 nately, Gerard was not at the Cottages, 
 but the rector answered Mrs. Aspenel's 
 summons, and joined them ; so that they
 
 112 RESTITUTION. 
 
 were not quite doomed to female gossip. 
 He, like them, dined early, and rejoiced in 
 cold chicken and pigeon pie when he could 
 get it ; so did Edith and Janet, to say 
 nothing: of Bruce, who made a second male 
 ingredient in what Janet called le pate aux 
 femm.es. 
 
 Edith had hinted to Mrs. Clarville 
 the plan for her education, and that 
 lady had judiciously sounded her fellow 
 ' cottagers.' All were quite excited at the 
 chance of turning an honest penny and the 
 prospect of the honour in store for them ; 
 all save Mrs. Clarville herself, who foresaw 
 disagreeable complications, and thought 
 the idea absurd. 
 
 When the tea was over, and the party 
 adjourned to the drawing-room, Mrs. As- 
 pen el broached the subject. The fact was, 
 she said, that her husband would not part 
 with Edith ; indeed, none of them could 
 do without her. At this assertion Edith 
 looked at her step-mother in astonishment,
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 113 
 
 and Janet covered her mouth to suppress 
 a laugh. 
 
 ^Mr. Aspenel thinks/ pursued Mrs. As- 
 penel, ' that vdih so many clever ladies at 
 hand, Edith might be educated at home, 
 and that, if she could receive lessons from 
 you in the branches in which you excel, 
 she might remain at the Park while Janet 
 goes to school.' 
 
 ' I should be most happy to impart such 
 knowledge as I possess to one who endears 
 herself to me as she does to everyone,' said 
 strong-minded Miss Vigors, holding out 
 her hand patronisingly to Edith. ' Fan 
 only reads with me occasionally, and 
 Miss Aspenel might come on alternate 
 days.' 
 
 ' It would be jolly to learn with Fan,' 
 put in irrepressible Janet. 
 
 ' I am afraid my style is old-fashioned,' 
 remarked humble Miss Lilyton. ' My 
 school, both in music and singing, was the 
 Italian ; and now nothing but German goes 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 RESTITUTION. 
 
 down. But I suppose the rules and rudi- 
 ments are always the same.' 
 
 'Why, you understand music from begin- 
 ning to end, tonic solfa and all,' said Mr. 
 Austen. 
 
 'And she plays and sings beautifully/ 
 ventured Edith. 
 
 ' Old Lucas said the other day Miss Lily- 
 ton had the prettiest pipe in the village,' 
 put in Janet, demurely, at which the 
 performer blushed. 
 
 ' I'm afraid I'm past work. One can't 
 settle to teaching at eighty,' said Miss 
 Short, ' but I hope the dear child will look 
 in upon me and Nurse Sampson, as she 
 has been used to do.' 
 
 Everybody laughed, for Sampson was a 
 huge Persian cat, with a tail of abnormal 
 size. 
 
 ' And on me,' said sentimental Mrs. 
 Lucy. ' I should be delighted to help her 
 with her embroidery ; but perhaps Mr. 
 Aspen el might consider that waste of time ?'
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 115 
 
 ' And Mrs. Clarville?' asked Mrs. Aspe- 
 nel, doubtfully. 
 
 ' Edith knows that she can come to me 
 whenever she likes ; but I am too desultory 
 a person myself to promise to give regular 
 lessons — indeed, I should not know how to 
 set about it.' 
 
 ' I will undertake the divinity, and we 
 will make a genius of you amongst us,' 
 laughed Mr. Austen, who perceived that 
 Mrs. Clarville was in some difficulty. 
 
 ' We may do more for her, Mr. Austen, 
 than all these colleges and high-schools 
 could do,' said Miss Vigors, authoritatively. 
 ' I do not believe in them. No individual 
 teaching, and probing the mind, and exer- 
 cising the judgment ; but all superficial, 
 just to get a degree. These modern in- 
 novations on time-honoured institutions 
 make me ill. Cramming, and nothing 
 else.' 
 
 ' Poor Edith! poor Fan !' muttered Janet. 
 
 ' You are all so kind,' said Edith, flitting 
 
 i2
 
 116 RESTITUTION. 
 
 like a white butterfly from one old friend 
 to another. ' If you will undertake me, I 
 feel sure that I shall get on. Mrs. Nunn 
 said I was beginning to improve when she 
 left.' 
 
 Nothing conciliates so much as an inter- 
 change of benefits. It is cold work when 
 they are all on one side. The ladies grew 
 conversational and at home Avhen they 
 found that they could oblige those to whom 
 they were under obligations, and, when 
 Mrs. Aspenel said she would tell her 
 husband of their willingness to oblige him, 
 they displayed more of their natural 
 manner than Mrs. Aspenel had ever seen 
 before. Miss Vigors began to talk of the 
 nobleman's family in which she had been 
 so many years governess ; Miss Lilyton of 
 the organ of infinite stops she had once 
 played ; Mrs. Lucy of her ancestors ; and 
 Miss Short of the wonderful health and 
 vigour she enjoyed at fourscore. Mrs. 
 Clarville, with Bruce on her lap and a
 
 A GOOD GTRL. 117 
 
 girl on either side, did not join ; but Mr. 
 Austen, with proper clerical tact, made up 
 for her reticence. As to Mrs. Aspenel, all 
 her guests affirmed they had never seen 
 her so agreeable before, and when they 
 rose to take leave thanked her for ' a 
 delightful afternoon.' 
 
 Just as this ceremonial was concluding, 
 who should appear but the master of the 
 mansion. He had returned earlier than 
 usual, and his wife's manner, Avhich was 
 waxing cordial, suddenly relapsed into 
 frigidity. He shook hands with the ladies 
 — that is to say, their palms touched — 
 and spoke to Mr. Austen with as much 
 friendliness as he ever displayed. 
 
 ' Another ironclad sunk. An emigrant 
 ship. Have you seen the account ? 
 Frightful loss of money. It is on all the 
 placards,' he said. 
 
 ' What lives lost?' asked Mr. Austen. 
 
 ' I was in a hurry and didn't stop to 
 look,' replied Aspenel.
 
 118 EESTITUTION. 
 
 The ladies departed, and Janet and 
 Bruce fled from the paternal presence. Mrs. 
 iVspenel took Edith aside, and told her she 
 must speak to her father, and make the 
 best she could of the novel arrangement 
 for her future education. 
 
 ' I cannot, T dare not,' said Edith; but 
 her step-mother gave her no choice, for she 
 left her alone with her father when the 
 rector took his leave. 
 
 He seemed unconscious of her presence, 
 having taken a pocket-book from his 
 pocket, and being instantly engaged with 
 his accounts. She summoned courage to 
 interrupt him. Some unflattering epithet 
 rose to his lips, but stopped there when he 
 perceived that it was Edith. 
 
 ' Thank you, papa, for letting me remain 
 at home,' she began, timidly. ' The ladies 
 are quite willing to help me with my 
 education, and I shall be delighted to do 
 what I can for Bruce.'
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 119 
 
 'A good girl. You will save money, 
 which gets scarcer every day. I suppose 
 the old ladies won't charge anything,' said 
 he. 
 
 ' I think they will expect to be paid. 
 But there will only be two, Miss Vigors 
 and Miss Lilyton. 1 will ask them about 
 
 it; 
 
 ^ About it ; no, you had better let it 
 remain uncertain. What did Mrs. Clarville 
 say?' 
 
 ' I am sure she will help me, but she 
 cannot undertake regular tuition.' 
 
 ' Like mother, like son. An ungrateful 
 couple.' 
 
 'Oh no, papa. They are excellent 
 people. Everybody says so.' 
 
 'Everybody! ha, ha! What do you 
 know about it? But I'm glad you are 
 settled, as well as Janet and Bruce.' 
 
 'Have you decided for Janet, papa?' 
 
 ' Yes, I've seen Mrs. Aspenel's universal
 
 120 RESTITUTION. 
 
 provider, Lady Ascliam, and she recom- 
 mends a school where they don't run you 
 up such frightful bills as they do in some 
 places. This is a French school ; that is 
 to say, the principals are French. ^'A 
 gentleman and lady of the old noblesse," 
 said Lady Ascham. As if that mattered, 
 so long as they don't ruin one. But she 
 didn't ask for a percentage, as I expected 
 — indeed, still expect. People don't work 
 for nothing in these days of competition.' 
 ' I don't quite understand you, papa.' 
 ' I daresay not. Women never do un- 
 derstand pounds, shillings, and pence, and 
 that's why they ruin the men. My num- 
 ber three would soon ruin me if I would 
 let her.' 
 
 When Mr. Aspenel was at his ease, he 
 would occasionally affix numbers to his 
 wives as a shorter and easier means of dis- 
 tinguishing them than the first, second, or 
 third Mrs. Aspenel. This was one of his 
 very few jokes, for he was not jocular.
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 121 
 
 'When is Janet to go, yjapa?' asked 
 Edith, waxing bolder as her father grew 
 communicative. 
 
 ' The next term, as they call it ; and, as 
 she and her mother and brother don't get 
 on, 1 have arranged for her to spend her 
 holidays with this Monsieur and Madame 
 de Belleville. They go to Paris most years, 
 and will take her with them.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! Will she never come 
 home ?' 
 
 The despair in Edith's voice attracted 
 her father's close attention. Looking at 
 her, he perceived that her hands were 
 clasped and that her face expressed abso- 
 lute terror. 
 
 ' Come home ! Oh, yes, now and then, 
 of course. We shall all do better without 
 her. She wants more discipline than she 
 has ever had from that foolish old woman 
 Trueman. I should have sent her off, had 
 
 I not promised your Well, I promised 
 
 to keep her, and I suppose I must.'
 
 122 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' She is our best and most faithful 
 friend,' said Edith, whose pulses were qui- 
 vering with the excitement caused by 
 what she had heard. * Perhaps I had 
 better go now,' she added, fearing to give 
 way before her father, who brooked no 
 tears. 
 
 ' Perhaps. Tell your mother — I mean 
 Mrs. Aspenel — what I have arranged for 
 Janet. She will be pleased, for once. 
 Tell Miss Vigors that she must be parti- 
 cular in teaching you arithmetic thorough- 
 ly. Many a man is ruined because his 
 family know nothing of £ s. d. I shall be, 
 if we don't take care.' 
 
 ' I hope not, papa. I will help you if I 
 can. I wish to be of service to you.' 
 
 The 'ferrets ' were turned sharply upon 
 Edith, and when Mr. Aspenel perceived 
 that she was really in earnest his face re- 
 laxed. It seemed usually strained to the 
 uttermost, like a working machine. 
 
 ' That is what your mother used to say.
 
 A GOOD GIRL. 123^ 
 
 But she was delicate, like you, and noth- 
 ing came of it,' he said. ' Nobody is of 
 use to me. I can only trust as far as I can 
 see.' 
 
 Edith looked disappointed, and he mut- 
 tered something about ' a good girl,' which 
 raised a smile. She left him and went to 
 Mrs. Aspenel. Bruce was with her. She 
 told her what her father had done as briefly 
 as she could, and it was evident that Mrs. 
 Aspenel was delighted, while Bruce clap- 
 ped his chubby hands, and cried, ' I'll tell 
 Janet.' He was half-way up the stairs 
 before the others knew what he was about, 
 and in the school-room in no time. 
 
 * Let him alone,' said Mrs. Aspenel. ' He 
 will only break the news, and Janet has 
 not much feeling.' 
 
 ' You do not know her, Mrs. Aspenel,^ 
 said Edith. 
 
 ' I know a great deal too much of her, 
 and shall be thankful when she is under 
 proper government.'
 
 124 EESTITUTION. 
 
 ' I will go to her, if you please,' said 
 Edith. 
 
 ' We will both go,' replied the step- 
 mother. 
 
 To their amazement, they found Janet 
 dancing round the room Avith Bruce, and 
 Nurse True expostulating. Both were 
 shouting ' Hurrah !' and appeared to be on 
 the most amicable terms, and in uproarious 
 spirits. When Janet perceived Mrs. As- 
 pen el, she danced up to her, exclaiming, 
 
 'Is it true ? Am I really going to 
 school?' 
 
 ' Oh, Janet !' sighed Edith. 
 
 'You will all be better without me. 
 You know I am the plague of your lives. 
 I shall learn painting, and have nobody to 
 smudge my drawings. Bruce will torment 
 somebody else ' 
 
 ' Let us dance again, Janet,' interrupted 
 Bruce, tugging at her skirts. 
 
 ' You see, he doesn't hate me, after all, 
 Mrs. Aspenel,' cried Janet. ' We quarrel
 
 A GOOD GIKL. 125 
 
 and make it up — don't we, Bruce ? You'll 
 have no playfellow, when I'm gone.' 
 
 ' You are certainly very provoking, Janet,' 
 said Mrs. Aspenel, leaving the room as sud- 
 denly as she had entered it. 
 
 Janet's spirits were soon calmed when 
 she heard the actual state of the case, and 
 that she might possibly be separated from 
 Edith and Nurse True for a long time. 
 She saw, besides, that Edith was very 
 unhappy. 
 
 ' You will have companions, I none,' said 
 the latter. 
 
 ' You will have the six juveniles at the 
 Cottages, who are devoted to you, and 
 Nurse True, and Bruce, and Fan,' returned 
 Janet, telling them off on her fingers, ^ and 
 Cousin Gerard, who is worth them all. I 
 wish I weren't going,' she added, throwing 
 her arms round her sister, and beginning 
 to cry. 
 
 ^ You have your wish. Miss Janet. Don't 
 make Miss Edith miserable,' said Nurse
 
 126 KESTITUTION. 
 
 True. ' You must try to improve, for 
 everybody's sake. It is better to learn than 
 to idle, my dear ; and I daresay this moun- 
 seer and madam will be kind. I only hope 
 they ain't Papists, and that you won't 
 come back Frenchified. I can't under- 
 stand why English people want their chil- 
 dren to be brought up French.' 
 
 ' I don't care which I am, for my part,' 
 said Janet, recovering her spirits. ' I'm 
 not so proud of my parentage, and don't 
 seem to have any ancestors.' 
 
 Nurse True was wdse enough not to 
 reply to this sally, and Janet began to 
 question Edith closely as to what their 
 father had said, Bruce listening with those 
 long ears said to belong to little pitchers.
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 
 
 Before Janet was sent to school, Mrs. 
 Asp en el managed to have an interview 
 with Lady Ascham. She was only too 
 glad of an excuse for a visit to London, 
 and appointed a day to have luncheon 
 with her friend in Belgravia, in order, as 
 she expressed it, 'to talk over the mat- 
 ter on which Mr. Aspenel had consulted 
 her.' These ladies corresponded chiefly on 
 post-cards, for Lady Ascham was always 
 too busy to fold a letter, place it in an 
 envelope, and gum it down, and preferred 
 being spared the trouble of opening and 
 unfolding similar missives. Thus, they
 
 128 EESTITUTION. 
 
 sometimes found it difficult to throw a veil 
 over their language, in order to make it 
 invisible to the curious eyes of domestics. 
 Not that such a veil is necessary now-a- 
 days, since concealment is impossible where 
 education is universal. We can no longer 
 say, 'The best servant I ever had could 
 neither read nor write,' but must change 
 it to ' The best servant I ever had minded 
 his own business.' 
 
 Lady Ascham was wont to enunciate 
 this in the presence of her household, and, 
 being indifferent to its opinion, found good 
 results. Mr. Aspenel was not far wrong 
 when he called her 'The Universal Pro- 
 vider,' quoting from an advertisement he 
 was in the habit of seeing ; for, as she sat 
 awaiting Mrs. Aspenel, she might have 
 been Secretary of State. She was a widow 
 and childless, and employed her time, 
 energy, and superfluous feelings for the 
 good of the public. On the library table 
 at which she sat, and on every other avail-
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 129 
 
 able chair and table, were scattered pros- 
 pectuses, voting-papers, appeals, petitions, 
 letters from every quarter of the globe, 
 presentation copies of pamphlets concern- 
 ing charitable institutions, reports of all 
 known and unknown charities, and post- 
 cards without end. Her face indicated 
 the perplexity into which this philan- 
 thropic undertaking had cast her. Her 
 forehead was much wrinkled, and she 
 looked worn-out by the multiplicity of her 
 self-imposed duties ; for nothing accumu- 
 lates like charity. The appellants have no 
 compassion, and are like so many cormor- 
 ants pouncing upon their prey. It must 
 be confessed that Lady Ascham liked to be 
 a victim, and nothing pleased her better 
 than to sigh out her fatigue after a hard 
 day's work to some sympathetic friend in 
 such words as, ' I am really exhausted 
 with the appeals I have had to-day. I 
 have no time for private or personal 
 affairs,' etc., etc. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' Always at it, Selina !' said Mrs. As- 
 penel, as she was ushered into her friend's 
 presence. 
 
 ' No diminution in my responsibilities, 
 dear,' replied Lady Ascham, embracing 
 her warmly. ' I was never so surprised in 
 my life as by that visit from Mr. Aspenel. 
 He was really quite agreeable, and amused 
 me by saying that he might have to make 
 an appeal soon on his own behalf, for he 
 was on the verge of ruin.' 
 
 'He is always saying that. I should 
 like to know something of the school he 
 has chosen, for we don't quite want a Do- 
 the-Girls Hall,' said Mrs. Aspenel. 
 
 ' I have nothing of the kind on my 
 books, Dorothea. But we will talk it over 
 at luncheon, for I have not a moment to 
 lose. I have a committee at three, and I 
 am obliged just to look in at a charity 
 concert afterwards, and in the evening 
 there are the theatricals by the Roaming 
 Roysterers, on behalf of the Home for —
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 131 
 
 I positively forget what at this moment, 
 but an excellent institution.' 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel laughed. It was pleasant 
 to see her show her white teeth, and re- 
 veal a dimple that was usually hidden. 
 She seldom laughed when at home. Still, 
 in spite of her grievances, she was a much 
 more cheerful-looking woman than was 
 her friend, who made her own grievances, 
 if she had any, and looked pale, care- 
 worn, and anxious — years older than Mrs. 
 Aspenel, who was about her age. 
 
 At luncheon she dismissed the man, and 
 began at once upon the subject of Janet's 
 school. Food, like everything else, gave 
 way before work, and people wondered 
 how she existed. 
 
 ' The De Bellevilles are old friends of 
 mine. Not teachers w^ho want to be kept 
 afloat, exactly, but refugees of the old 
 noblesse. You understand, Dorothea. 
 They don't pester me with prospectuses, 
 but I send them a pupil when I can ; for 
 
 k2
 
 132 KESTITUTION. 
 
 " il faut vivre^'' as Monsieur De Belleville 
 says, ironically. They take daily pupils, and 
 have only three or four boarders, who live 
 entirely with them, and have the benefit 
 of their pure Parisian French. They have 
 a vacancy just now, and I hope your — 
 what shall I call her ? — step-child may fill 
 
 it; 
 
 ' Call her Janet. She is a very disagree- 
 able girl, and quite unmanageable.' 
 
 'That is what I hear of all the girls, 
 and boys too. I am told that they are 
 men and women before their time, and 
 parents obey them, thus reversing the 
 commandment.' 
 
 ' Mr. Aspenel's children are not exactly 
 that, but they set their faces against me, 
 and, now that their governess has left, I 
 don't know what to do with them.' 
 
 'Perhaps you set 3^our face against 
 them, Dorothea. I remember you had 
 always strong likes and dislikes. But Mr. 
 Aspenel seemed to jump at the De Belle-
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 133 
 
 villes when I told him that a hundred a-year 
 would cover all expenses.' 
 
 'I can quite imaojine that. Where do 
 they live?' 
 
 'At Clifton, in the Paragon, where, I 
 believe, Hannah More lived — a good pre- 
 cedent. At least, people who want my 
 nomination or recommendation make a 
 point of telling me about the reputation 
 of the place or people for a century back.' 
 
 Lady Ascham then proceeded to describe 
 her foreign friends, and, had Mrs. Aspenel 
 been really anxious about Janet, she would 
 have been satisfied with the account. As 
 it was, she thought the school would be as 
 well as another. She did not, however, 
 think it would be strict enough, and plied 
 Lady Ascham with questions as to rules 
 and discipline. Of these she kncAV nothing 
 — indeed, she had not time to go into them, 
 for her carriage drove up, and she exclaimed, 
 
 ' I shall be late for the committee. 
 Where can I drive you, Dorothea?'
 
 134 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' To Eegent Street, if convenient.' 
 LadyAschara suddenly bethoup;ht her- 
 self of her want of hospitality, and entreated 
 her to remain until she returned from the 
 committee, to go with her to the concert, 
 stay to dinner, do any and everything, in 
 short, save interfere with her engagements. 
 Your busy people have no time for friend- 
 ship. But Mrs. Aspenel declined. She 
 had her own plans. She wanted to make 
 the best of a brief afternoon by doing a 
 vast amount of shopping and calling on 
 several friends. Somewhat against her 
 incHnation, she had promised her husband 
 to return home with him, therefore she 
 had not much time. She accordingly got 
 through her engagements as quickly as 
 possible, in order to join him. Just as her 
 cab drew up at his office in the City, a 
 strange-looking man came out of it. He 
 was ill-clad, and had a bold, defiant air ; 
 still he was handsome, and attracted her. 
 Beneath his slouched wideawake glanced
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 135 
 
 piercing black eyes, and a bushy black 
 beard and whiskers covered and concealed 
 an oval, olive- complexioned face. As she 
 was about to enter the huge, many-storeyed 
 house, dignified by the name of office, or, 
 more properly, offices, this man accosted 
 her. 
 
 ' You are Mrs. Aspenel ; may I have a 
 word with you ?' 
 
 He accompanied her into the hall, and 
 forcibly stopped her as she was about to 
 mount the staircase, in the hope of escaping 
 from him. Her husband's offices were on 
 the first floor. The hall was dark, and, 
 although she knew she was in the very 
 centre of life, she was frightened. 
 
 ' You needn't be alarmed,' said the man. 
 ' It is of your husband I want to speak. 
 If you have any influence with him, tell 
 him that his life isn't worth a penny if he 
 doesn't do what I say ; neither is yours, 
 for that matter. He doesn't care to see me 
 starve and die — and — and — he has known
 
 136 RESTITUTION. 
 
 me all his life. Give me money or food, 
 for pity's sake.' 
 
 ' I have no influence with Mr. Aspenel, 
 but here is money. Let me pass,' she said, 
 producing her ^^urse. 
 
 He seized it with the words, ' Tell him I 
 have taken what he refused to give,' and, 
 before she could utter either cry or remon- 
 strance, was gone. Her fear was now 
 heightened by the fact that she had lost 
 not only her money but her railway-ticket ; 
 she ran upstairs, nevertheless, preferring 
 rather to face her husband than to turn 
 in pursuit of the robber. She found 
 Gerard Clarville with Mr. Aspenel, and 
 heard the words : 
 
 'That is the Wandering Will whom you 
 and your mother object to looking after.' 
 
 ' Is he the man I have just met ?' she 
 exclaimed, not noticing in her excitement 
 that the men she saw before her were as 
 flustered as she, and that the room was in 
 confusion.
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 137 
 
 ' Whom do you mean ?' stammered her 
 husband, whose hands trembled and whose 
 voice shook audibly. 
 
 * An awful wretch, who told me to tell 
 you that neither your life nor mine is 
 worth a penny unless you comply with his 
 demands ; who snatched my purse from my 
 hands, and said he had taken what you 
 refused to give.' 
 
 ' Give ! Your purse ! What was in 
 it?' gasped Mr. Aspenel, recovering his 
 strength. 
 
 ' Not much ; only my railway-ticket was 
 there also.' 
 
 ' Then you will be obliged to get 
 another. Why did you let him have your 
 purse ?' 
 
 Gerard could not help smiling at the 
 sudden transition from terror to greed. 
 He had been at work in the next room, 
 when he heard a scuffle and loud cry. He 
 rushed into Mr. Aspenel's office, and found 
 him struggling wdth the man who had
 
 138 KESTITUTION. 
 
 just left, and getting the worst of it. He 
 separated them, but before he could seize 
 on the assailant he was gone. He was 
 about to pursue him, when Mr. Aspenel 
 stopped him with a ' Let him go ; he is not 
 worth catching.' 
 
 The trio stood a moment looking at one 
 another. Gerard spoke first. 
 
 ' You should have let me run after him, 
 sir. Once caught he wouldn't have needed 
 watching. A thief in handcuffs is worth 
 two on Roselands Common.' 
 
 ' I want nothing public ; but, if he 
 threatens life and property, he must be 
 watched — watched.' 
 
 ' Get a detective. Set the police on him,' 
 said Gerard. 
 
 ' I must know my own affairs best, Mr. 
 Clarville.' 
 
 Gerard felt himself snubbed, and was 
 about to withdraw, when he perceived that 
 Mrs. Aspenel, usually cold and self-pos-
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 13^ 
 
 sessed, looked pale and frightened still, and 
 signed to him to remain. 
 
 ' Would it not be well for Mr. Clarville 
 to go with us to Roselands ?' she asked, 
 timidly, of her still more timid spouse. 
 ' We hear of such terrible tragedies in 
 railway carriages that one scarcely feels 
 safe after that ruffian's intimidation.' 
 
 ' Well, it might not be amiss. I suppose 
 you have no engagement, Clarville ? Your 
 mother would be glad to see you. We 
 could come up together to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I shall be delighted, sir. Only I shall 
 not be able to iinish that extra work.' 
 
 ' Never mind, for once. You can work 
 later to-morrow. But we have lost the 
 train. However, there is another in half- 
 an-hour.' 
 
 Gerard said this would just give him 
 time to run to his lodging and meet thetn 
 at the station. His rooms were not very 
 far from the office. They were snug^
 
 140 RESTITUTION. 
 
 decent apartments, and he was wont to 
 argue with his friends who lived farther 
 afield that he was better oif than they 
 were, since he had within reach ' forests of 
 masts and the silvery Thames.' He cer- 
 tainly had good experience of human 
 nature round about him, and, being 
 energetic, he spent some of the scant 
 leisure granted to him amongst the so- 
 called ' dangerous classes.' He believed 
 that it was every man's duty to help his 
 neighbour to the extent of his ability, and 
 was not of the opinion of the multitude 
 that a philanthropist could not be a hero 
 of romance just as well as the sentimental 
 or sensational individual generally ap- 
 proved. But people are beginning to 
 appreciate the self-denying efforts of the 
 City clerk or curate who devotes himself to 
 the good of his fellow-creatures, and is of 
 much more use in his o^eneration than monk 
 or devotee. 
 
 So, Avhen Gerard hurried to his first-floor
 
 AN ASSAULT FRUSTRATED. 141 
 
 lodging in his ^ close,' several workmen 
 touched their hats to him, and when he 
 entered the house his landlady received 
 him with maternal effusion. The house 
 was one of the relics of the past, and had 
 been once an important mansion, just as 
 the great warehouses which surrounded it 
 had been, maybe, princely dwellings. But 
 Gerard lived more in the present than the 
 past, and considered a human soul of more 
 value than all the bricks and mortar of a 
 city that contains more bricks and mortar 
 than has any other since the Creation. 
 Thus his neighbours had, perhaps, a higher 
 opinion of him than his patron and master, 
 Mr. Aspen el. 
 
 Be that as it may, he gathered together 
 one or two things that he wished to take 
 to his mother, and left his somewhat un- 
 tidy apartment to the care of Mrs. Pottle, 
 his landlady, who, despite her name, had. 
 as she expressed it, ' seen better days.' 
 
 While he was threading his way through
 
 142 KESTITUTION. 
 
 the ever-sHfting crowds to London Bridge, 
 Mrs. Pottle began to ' tidy up ' his room, 
 assisted by two juvenile Pottles, who 
 hindered more than they helped. 
 
 ' Bless his heart ! how he do leave his 
 things about !' she said. ' But all the 
 men's alike; they just throw down a-pur- 
 pose for the women to pick up. I, for one, 
 should be a deal better without 'em. As 
 well to be a maid-of- all- work.'
 
 143 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 
 
 Mrs. Aspenel invited Gerard not only to 
 dine but to sleep at the Park, and Mr. 
 Aspenel seconded the invitation. He 
 declined, however, and, when about to 
 separate from them at the station, was 
 surprised at their eagerness to drive him to 
 the Cottages. Their carriage had been 
 waiting some time, and the horses were 
 impatient. He got in at once, and on the 
 way home was minutely questioned by Mr. 
 Aspenel as to the sleeping and other 
 accommodation in his mother's small abode; 
 for, said he, ' Each house was only intended
 
 144 EESTITUTION. 
 
 for one inmate and a servant, and it could 
 never have entered the founder's mind that 
 a male visitor could find either room or 
 food. Forty pounds a-year is ample for 
 one, but not enough for two.' 
 
 ' Like the time-honoured ^^oose,' laughed 
 Gerard ; ' when I arrive unexpectedly, as 
 to-night, my mother and Miranda make 
 me a shakedown on the sofa, in the sitting- 
 room ; but usually I sleep at the rectory, 
 or sometimes at Hoplands. Mr. Austen is 
 kind enough to say that he likes a visitor, 
 and you know he always keeps open house.' 
 
 Mr. Aspenel frowned, and Gerard saw 
 that he had talked too fast. 
 
 ' If he can afford to keep open house he 
 shouldn't complain if his tithes aren't paid,' 
 said the former ; then, arriving at the iron 
 gates, he added, ' These Aspenel Homes 
 are absurdly grand for places of charity. 
 It would be more appropriate if they were 
 built plain. Have an eye to Wandering 
 Will, and tell your mother just enough to
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 145 
 
 convince her that she ouo^ht to look after 
 him. I hear she preaches to the gipsies.' 
 
 He nodded as Gerard got out of the 
 carriage, but Mrs. Aspen el gave him a 
 warm hand-grasp. 
 
 * Come to the Park for me to-morrow 
 precisely at 8.30,' shouted Mr. Aspenel 
 after him ; and Gerard thought to himself 
 that he Avas exj^ected to play policeman. 
 
 But he soon forgot all else in his mo- 
 ther's delighted welcome. He found her 
 and Miranda together ; for she was giving 
 the girl her nightly lessons in reading and 
 needlework, Miranda's education having 
 been much neglected in the boat-cabin 
 where she had been born and bred. 
 
 ' Here's Mr. Clarville, missus. I knows 
 his step,' cried excited Miranda, as he was 
 ascending the stairs, and to whom a new 
 face looked ' quite 'eavenly in that out-o'- 
 the-way place,' as she was wont to say. 
 
 She nearly tumbled into his arms in her 
 zeal to open the door, which his mother 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 RESTITUTION. 
 
 did entirely when he was inside it. But 
 maternal fears soon asserted themselves, 
 and, ' Have you lost your situation ?' was 
 the first inquiry. 
 
 Gerard quieted them, and briefly detailed 
 the events of the afternoon. 
 
 * I think I have seen the man,' said Mrs. 
 Clarville ; ' but he does not often come to 
 these parts. I was at the camp to-day, 
 and the gipsies were loud in their com- 
 plaints of Mr. Aspenel's persecution, as they 
 call it. Fan told me that Mr. Harton thinks 
 he means to exterminate them. She was 
 there this morning, and I am afraid her 
 gipsy proclivities increase. They look upon 
 her as one of them, and impose on her in 
 many ways. She will never settle down, 
 and Miss Vigors is in despair, because she 
 cannot interest her in the books she wishes 
 her to read.' 
 
 ' I don't wonder,' laughed Gerard. 
 
 ' Supper is served,^ interrupted the con- 
 versation, as Miranda, with important
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 147 
 
 manner and glowing face, threw the door 
 open. 
 
 ' Where did she learn that ?' asked 
 Gerard. 
 
 ' From Hopkins, who tells her how she 
 managed when she used to live in good 
 families,' laughed his mother. 
 
 Hopkins was Miss Short's devoted at- 
 tendant. 
 
 Everything that the larder contained 
 was placed on the table in the hall, and 
 the feast was crowned by early radishes 
 and mustard-and-cress from Mrs. Clarville's 
 small garden. 
 
 ' Miranda, you have been robbing your 
 mistress,' said Gerard. 
 
 ' There's a sight more a- coming up, sir,' 
 replied Miranda, abashed at the reproof of 
 her particular hero. 
 
 Nevertheless, she was off, unbidden, to 
 prepare the shakedown, happy in any event 
 that could change the even tenor of her 
 day. 
 
 l2
 
 148 EESTITUTION. 
 
 Mother and son sat up late, discussing 
 Mr. Aspenel and the gipsies, and consult- 
 ing what they could do to be of service on 
 either side. 
 
 Gerard was at the Park punctually at 
 the appointed hour. Mrs. Aspenel man- 
 acled to see him durino^ a brief interval. 
 She appeared holding up a purse. 
 
 ' This was returned to me last night,' 
 she began. 'A gipsy lad gave it to one of 
 the servants, saying I had lost it. He was 
 off immediately. On opening it, I found 
 that the money was all there, but the rail- 
 way-ticket had been abstracted. Mr. As- 
 penel thinks it was probably used by the 
 man who assaulted him to convey him in 
 the same train as the one we came by. 
 But for your presence, we might have seen 
 more of him. I shall always be grateful 
 to you. In the purse was this paper, with 
 these words scrawled on it, "No robber, 
 after all." ' 
 
 Gerard's response was interrupted by
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 149 
 
 Janet, who came flying into the dining- 
 room, followed by Bruce. Mrs. Aspenel 
 looked displeased, but all she thought of 
 ■was her cousin. 
 
 ' I must say good-bye, Gerard,' she said. 
 * Perhaps I shan't see you again before I 
 go to school. Do get out of the way, Bruce. 
 You interrupt everything.' Bruce, in fact, 
 managed to get before her, and to encircle 
 Gerard's knees with his chubby arms. 
 ' Good-bye, Gerard. Make haste. Here's 
 papa,' she continued, tugging at Bruce, who 
 would not be removed. 
 
 Gerard bent over the child to meet 
 Janet, who offered her face for the cousinly 
 kiss to which she was accustomed, when 
 Mr. Aspenel came in. 
 
 ' What is this ?' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' I am only saying good-bye to Cousin 
 Gerard, and Bruce has come between us, 
 as usual,' replied Janet, forgetting natural 
 fear in the uncertain moment, and putting 
 her arms round her cousin's neck.
 
 150 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' My clerk ! Mother in the almshouses ! 
 I had forgotten the relationship,' muttered 
 Mr. Aspenel. ' The carriage is waiting/ 
 he added, and motioned to Gerard to 
 precede him. 
 
 Gerard freed himself from the children, 
 shook hands with Mrs. Aspenel, and went 
 out. Janet, for the first time in her life, 
 followed, and stood at the door to see the 
 last of him. Bruce, of course, ran after 
 her ; despite their antagonism, she was his 
 only companion. 
 
 ^Good-bye, Gerard, good-bye!' she 
 screamed, heedless of her father's frown- 
 ing face, who looked on, wondering what 
 could have brought wife and children 
 from their breakfast-tables to meet his 
 clerk. His clerk ! 
 
 He made a mental resolve to invite him 
 to the Park no more, and upbraided himself 
 for his weakness in taking a connection of 
 Number Two into his service. 
 
 ' Why did you come down unsum-
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 151 
 
 moned ?' asked Mrs. Aspenel, when the 
 carriage had driven off. 
 
 • Because I wanted to wish Cousin 
 Gerard good-bye. He is my best and 
 dearest friend,' replied the girl. 
 
 ' You are too old to throw your arms 
 round young men's necks ; and your father 
 was displeased,' said Mrs. Aspenel, severely. 
 
 ' He is my own cousin ! I don't care !' 
 flouted Janet. 
 
 ' Naughty Janet ! Wicked Janet !' cried 
 Bruce, and Janet gave him a sisterly shove. 
 
 ' There will be an end of this,' apostro- 
 phised Mrs. Aspenel, as Janet ran off, 
 pursued by Bruce. 
 
 In fact, the end alluded to was immi- 
 nent. Madame de Belleville consented to 
 take Janet for the half-term, and to keep 
 her through the holidays, if her ' parents ' 
 wished; so preparations were soon in 
 progress. 
 
 She was in great spirits, which not even 
 Edith's depression and the prospect of
 
 152 RESTITUTION. 
 
 partino^ from her could allay. To get 
 away from home was elysium. Her step- 
 mother positively forbade further leave- 
 takings, and told Nurse True that she 
 would have no village gossip concerning 
 Miss Janet's education. Mrs. Clarville 
 would naturally come to wish her good- 
 bye, and there were no other neighbours 
 sufficiently intimate to necessitate farcAvells. 
 Mr. Austen she would see, of course. Ac- 
 cordingly, Nurse True did not take her 
 charge outside the Park walls until she 
 accompanied Janet to school. 
 
 On that eventful morning all was excite- 
 ment in school-room and nursery. A first 
 journey is an event in life, and Janet slept 
 little the previous night and ate little at 
 breakfast. Indeed, the quiet tears in 
 Edith's eyes, which no sly application of 
 handkerchief could get rid of, would have 
 sufficed to destroy any appetite. More- 
 over, Bruce would not leave her for a 
 moment, and declared he would not let
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 153 
 
 her go. He was more affectionate in her 
 departure than in her companionship. 
 She, too, felt some remorse when she re- 
 membered that she had not been a perfect 
 sister to him. 
 
 ' There is the carriage. You must go 
 down and wish your papa good-bye,' said 
 Nurse True. 
 
 ' I am afraid,' responded Janet. 
 
 I will 2:0 with 
 
 t) 
 
 you. 
 
 ' And me,' cried Edith and Bruce. 
 
 The trio crept to the breakfast-room, all 
 more or less in awe of him whom they 
 should have loved. Edith went in first. 
 
 * Janet is come to say good-bye, papa,' 
 she said. 
 
 'Janet!' he repeated, glancing up from 
 his papers, which he was hastily tying to- 
 gether with red tape. ' Good-bye, child. 
 I hope you will take advantage of your 
 chances of education. Nobody knows how 
 soon you may have to turn them to ac- 
 count. Above all, learn French thorough-
 
 154 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ly ; that carries you everywhere. Many 
 men and women get clerkships through a 
 knowledge of French and other modern 
 languages. They are far more useful than 
 Greek and Latin.' 
 
 Janet stood before her father dumb- 
 foundered. She had never heard him say 
 so much before. 
 
 ' Speak,' whispered Edith. 
 
 'Yes, papa, I will learn everything I 
 can ; but I like painting best. I am very 
 glad to go,' she said, with provoking non- 
 chalance. 
 
 ' I daresay. We are always glad of 
 excuses for a change. Good-bye.' 
 
 He held out his thin hand, which she 
 took coldly. 
 
 ' Won't you kiss her, papa ?' asked tear- 
 ful Edith. 
 
 'Kiss her? Yes, if she wishes. But 
 she must not strangle me, as she did Clar- 
 ville. That was quite unnecessary.'
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 15 5 
 
 ' No fear,' said Janet, presenting her 
 cheek. 
 
 There was something in that round, 
 blooming face which touched a parental 
 spring somewhere. He stooped to kiss 
 it, and his eyes had a spark of apparent 
 feeling. 
 
 Janet saw it, and did, in spite of pro- 
 hibition and previous fear, cast her arms 
 round his neck, saying, in a choked 
 voice, 
 
 ' I wish I could love you, papa. I do 
 indeed.' 
 
 There was no response. Mr. Aspen el 
 hurried to his carriage, while his wife 
 looked on wondering, and Edith sobbed 
 out, 
 
 * How could you say that, Janet?' 
 
 There was no time to lose. The car- 
 riage that took Mr. Aspenel to the station 
 was to return, and in the course of an 
 hour convey Janet thither. They all went
 
 156 RESTITUTION. 
 
 upstairs to prepare, and the sisters were 
 alone for a short space. 
 
 * What shall I do without you, my dar- 
 ling ?' was all Edith could say. 
 
 * Better than with me ; for I know I am 
 very provoking,' sobbed Janet. 
 
 * I have not been as good to you as I 
 ought, Janet. Our mother told me never 
 to leave you, and now you are leaving 
 me.' 
 
 ' That is my fault. You have been better 
 than best. But you will have True, and 
 I — I shall have lots of people, and I mean 
 to come home for the holidays by hook or 
 by crook.' 
 
 She cast her arms about Edith, and the 
 pair knew for the first time what the word 
 ' parting ' meant. 
 
 The real one came all too soon. Mrs. 
 Aspen el, Edith, and Bruce accompanied 
 Janet to the station. She was more annoy- 
 ed than flattered by her step-mother's and 
 brother's presence ; she would have pre-
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 157 
 
 ferred Nurse True in the carriage, instead 
 of in the rumble. 
 
 At the station were Mrs. Clarville, Mr. 
 Austen, and Fan. The latter had come 
 uninvited to see the last of Janet. She 
 generally went where she pleased, whether 
 her company were acceptable or not. 
 Janet, who was brimming over with regret- 
 ful affection for all her friends, embraced 
 her with the rest. 
 
 ' Be a good girl,' said Mr. Austen, with 
 clerical propriety. 
 
 Til try,' returned Janet. 
 
 Up steamed the train, in went Nurse 
 True and the sandwiches, and in hopped 
 Janet like a bird. Her last embrace and 
 last look were for Edith, whose white face 
 and tearful eyes touched the hearts of her 
 friends. 
 
 Mrs. Aspen el summoned her and Bruce 
 to the carriage, saying they would go for 
 a drive, and the breezes of May and 
 the deliditful lanes soothed Edith. Mrs.
 
 158 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Aspen el took advantage of the occasion to 
 inform her that, now Janet was gone, 
 certain changes must be made in the house- 
 hold arrangements. 
 
 ' I did not like to propose that you 
 should breakfast with your father and me 
 always, and dine when there is no company, 
 so long as Janet was at home,' she said. 
 * But as you are nearly grown up, and must 
 be introduced in due course, and as you 
 have no resident governess, you cannot 
 continue to live entirely with Nurse True, 
 however delightful she may be ' 
 
 The last part of this speech was spoken 
 ironically, and it roused Edith from the 
 tearful absorption into which she had 
 fallen, and from which Bruce, with child- 
 like intuition, was using every effort to 
 disturb her. 
 
 ' Nurse True has been with me ever since 
 I was born, and has supplied my own 
 mother's place as well as she could,' she 
 said, suppressing a rising sob.
 
 A FIRST PARTING. 159 
 
 ' That may be ; but she is scarcely com- 
 panionable, I should think. You cannot 
 object to be more with your father and me 
 than with her. It will look better in the 
 eyes of the world, if not in your own, that 
 you should accept me as chaperone, instead 
 of a domestic, estimable as she may be. I 
 flatter myself that, in spite of stepmother- 
 dom, I am at least as agreeable as Nurse 
 True or those old ladies whom you so 
 greatly rejoice in.' 
 
 Edith was astonished at this advance on 
 Mrs. Aspenel's part, who had never said so 
 much to her before. She felt that it was 
 her duty to meet it briskly, but she had 
 neither the will nor the power. All she 
 could do was to sob out meekly that she 
 would endeavour to act as Mrs. Aspenel 
 ^vished, and would be ready to join her at 
 the breakfast- table on the morrow.
 
 160 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 SCHOOL. 
 
 Edith did not know what absolute loneli- 
 ness meant until she found herself at tea 
 Avith Bruce. Thanks to Mrs. Aspenel, she 
 had got through the day tolerably well. 
 That lady had told her that she would not 
 expect her at dinner until she had men- 
 tioned the subject to her father, so she and 
 Bruce were sole companions. No Janet ; 
 no Nurse True. How desolate it was ! 
 But solace came when she least expected 
 it. 
 
 ' I'll be a good boy, Edith, and learn all 
 my lessons, if you'll let me sleep with you.
 
 SCHOOL. 161 
 
 Ellen says I sha'n't, and I say I will — in 
 Janet's bed, in your room,' said Bruce, a 
 slice of bread-and-butter in one hand, a 
 cup of milk in the other. 
 
 ' You shall, if you will promise to love 
 Janet,' replied Edith. 
 
 ' I wish Janet was back, T do,' said 
 Bruce, putting down the cup and rubbing 
 his sleeve across his eyes. ' I want to 
 play, I do.' 
 
 Up rose Edith and embraced Bruce, and 
 then and there told Ellen, the imder-nurse, 
 that Master Bruce might sleep in her room 
 for once, if Mrs. Aspenel had no objection. 
 And thus it came to pass that Bruce 
 occupied Janet's bed, instead of his own 
 in Xurse True's room, and Edith was 
 consoled. 
 
 Meanwhile, what of Janet? She had 
 just reached her destination. After an 
 enjoyable journey, much good advice from 
 True, and all the excitement of expecta- 
 tion, she found herself at the door of a 
 
 VOL. I. i\r
 
 162 EESTITUTION. 
 
 good-sized house, which overlooked the 
 Severn and its surrounding woods. 
 
 ' This is much more beautiful than the 
 Park !' she cried, enthusiastically, when 
 Nurse True had rung the bell. 
 
 No sooner were they in the hall than 
 out came the loveliest lady Janet had ever 
 seen, so she thought ; and she was not far 
 wrong. She shook hands with Nurse 
 True ; kissed Janet on both cheeks ; paid 
 the cabman, told him to assist the maid in 
 carrying up the luggage, and did it all so 
 rapidly that even Nurse True was sur- 
 prised. There was a foreign accent on the 
 English, otherwise, Janet thought, with 
 some disappointment, she need not have 
 been a Frenchwoman at all. 
 
 ' Still,' she argued to herself, ' I have 
 never seen anyone like her.' 
 
 She was right. Madame de Belleville, 
 at about forty, retained the beauty and 
 vivacity of half that age. She was of 
 medium height, stout, with that embon-
 
 SCHOOL. 163 
 
 point characteristic of her countrywomen, 
 round-faced, and clear coniplexioned. Her 
 eyes were large and of that pure, trans- 
 parent hazel which always emits a <2jolden 
 light ; while they, and her somewhat wide 
 mouth, seemed to be ever smiling together. 
 Her hair was grey before its time, and she 
 wore it in large, short curls, which became 
 her well. It was surmounted by no cap, 
 but drawn up to the crown and fastened 
 by a tortoiseshell comb. 
 
 She took her new arrivals upstairs to a 
 double-bedded room, and begged them to 
 take off their things preparatory to tea. 
 Nurse True demurred. 
 
 ' I have made this apartment prepared 
 for you both to-night. You will sleep 
 here, madame, and when you leave to- 
 morrow the dear child will be already 
 reconciled to her ncAv home, and will have 
 made de acquaintance of her companion.' 
 
 Saying this, Madame de Belleville tapped 
 Janet on the cheek, and left the room. 
 
 m2
 
 164 EESTITUTION. 
 
 ' Isn't she a love ? isn't she a dear ?' cried 
 Janet. 
 
 * If only her teaching and example are as 
 honest as her face, she certainly is,' replied 
 Nurse True, reflectively. ^ I had a preju- 
 dice, but it is half gone already.' 
 
 It was wholly gone before long. Madame 
 soon re-appeared, and led them downstairs, 
 talking all the while. She took them into 
 a comfortable dining-room, where a gentle- 
 man and three young ladies were seated 
 at tea. 
 
 'Here she is, mon ami ; here she is, mes 
 enfans P she exclaimed, leading Janet, first 
 to Monsieur de Belleville, and then to each 
 of the girls. 
 
 ' Vous parlez Franqais ? Non P Den 
 you must be my j^oiJig de cote at table, till 
 you speak courammeni. What de English 
 of dat, Lizzie ?' said monsieur, shaking 
 hands. 
 
 'Fluently, monsieur,' was the ready 
 answer of a fair girl about Janet's age, who
 
 SCHOOL. 165 
 
 received her with an air of patronage and 
 looked her well over. 
 
 Several remarks passed in French, while 
 madame seated Janet and Nurse True be- 
 fore an omelette and a haricot, cooked in 
 true French fashion. These remarks were 
 complimentary to Janet. She was con- 
 sidered very pretty, and, strange to say, 
 exceedingly like madame. The girls talked 
 freely in French, with true Parisian accent. 
 
 ' She resembles you greatly, iiia mie^ 
 said monsieur, contemplating the new- 
 comer with increased interest. 
 
 Monsieur de Belleville's English was far 
 less perfect than his wife's, for, being also 
 a teacher of his own language, and a lec- 
 turer therein, he made a conscience of 
 speaking it to his pupils, and rarely in- 
 dulged in — or aired, as it is now the cus- 
 tom to say — his English. He was a tall, 
 thin, sallow, black-eyed, black-haired man, 
 €very inch a Frenchman, and every inch 
 a gentleman. He was, as Lady Ascham
 
 166 RESTITUTION. 
 
 had said, ^ of the old noblesse^'' and he and 
 his charming wife had a sorrowful story 
 hidden down deep below the cranny whence 
 issued their easy and pleasant manner. Mr. 
 or Mrs. John Bull would not have finished 
 oif a long train of misfortunes so airily as 
 did these strays of a revolution, but would 
 probably have jDroclaimed their grievances 
 by their countenances : while our new ac- 
 quaintances either concealed, ignored, or 
 forgot theirs. 
 
 As soon as the young ladies had finished 
 their tea, they disappeared, to the great 
 relief of the travellers, who felt uncomfort- 
 able beneath their scrutiny and foreign 
 tongue. Janet knew enough of French to 
 interpret some of their remarks, and un- 
 derstood when madame bade them be cau- 
 tious. But she perceived that they were 
 perfectly at ease. 
 
 ' I will leave you to finish your repast,' 
 said madame ; and she and monsieur with- 
 drew.
 
 SCHOOL. 167 
 
 • It is not like a school. They won't be 
 strict enough,' moralised Nurse True, while 
 Janet made a fine tea. 
 
 ' It is not a school, " only classes." I 
 poked that out of Mrs. Aspenel,' said Janet. 
 ' You weren't strict with me, old True !' 
 
 ' Better if I had been, perhaps, my dear ; 
 but I couldn't find it in my heart to 
 punish you poor motherless children.' 
 
 When they had finished tea, madame 
 reappeared, and suggested that they should 
 arrange Janet's wardrobe. Accordingly 
 they went upstairs again. Just as they were 
 entering their room, they were accosted by 
 the fair girl called Lizzie. 
 
 ' I can tell you what to do, for I am to 
 sleep with you,' she said, unceremoniously 
 preceding them. ' I gave up my bed for 
 the night, and am to share Bella's. We 
 shan't have too much room, but it will be 
 great fun. This is your chest of drawers 
 and washstand, near your bed, and these 
 are mine. We have the wardrobe between
 
 168 KESTITUTION. 
 
 US. We must be tolerably tidy, but ma- 
 clarae isn't too neat herself. The French 
 never are, you know.' 
 
 Nurse True uplifted her hands, and 
 exclaimed, 
 
 ' Then who teaches you good habits, my 
 dear ?' 
 
 Lizzie, having learnt Nurse True's posi- 
 tion, was slightly offended by this familiar 
 question, and answered, curtly, 
 
 ^Nobody. They come naturally to 
 ladies.' 
 
 ' Indeed they do not ! I am very un- 
 tidy ; but perhaps I'm not a lady. I 
 should have no habits at all, but for Nurse 
 True,' said Janet. 
 
 'Aren't you one of the Aspenels of As- 
 penel Park? My mother knows your 
 mother a little.' 
 
 ' My dear mother is dead. The present 
 Mrs. Aspenel is only my step-mother.' 
 
 ' Never mind. 'Tis all the same. Aspenel 
 is a good name, and a park's a park. My
 
 SCHOOL. 169 
 
 name is Hazelwoocl. ISly father is Sir 
 James Hazelwoocl, of Hazelwood Grange. 
 There's the bell. We read and work an 
 hour before we o;o to bed. French, of 
 course ; and sometimes monsieur reads to 
 us.' 
 
 Miss Hazelwood ran off, and Nurse 
 True began to arrange Janet's wardrobe. 
 She bade her remark where each article 
 was, so that she might ' keep her things 
 tidy.' 
 
 * A place for everything, and every- 
 thing in its place,' she said, with nursely 
 acumen. 
 
 At half-past eight o'clock they were 
 summoned to prayers. This comforted 
 Nurse True. Two respectable-looking ser- 
 vants were present, and madame read 
 them in English. Monsieur was not there. 
 Janet felt more of amusement than devo- 
 tion, because of madame's somewhat rapid 
 reading and peculiar pronunciation ; but, 
 when she subsequently remarked upon
 
 170 RESTITUTION. 
 
 this to Nurse True, slae was rebuked by 
 that o'ood woman. 
 
 ' You will never forget to say your own 
 prayers and read a chapter before you go 
 to bed,' said True. ' If you promise me 
 this, I shall be happy about you, for I am 
 sure you will be kindly treated if you are 
 good and obedient. I have put your Bible 
 and prayer-book on your drawers, with 
 dear Miss Aspenel's text-book. When you 
 look at them, you will think of us.' 
 
 ' I would rather not promise, dear old 
 True, because I always break my promises ; 
 but I will try,' replied Janet, humbly. 
 
 ' We will pray together to-night, my 
 deary, and read in the Blessed Book, and 
 that may help you to remember,' said 
 True, taking the Bible, and opening it at 
 her favourite book of Proverbs. 
 
 She read aloud the first nine verses of 
 the twenty-second chapter, which called 
 forth from Janet the satisfactory inter- 
 ruption of
 
 SCHOOL. 171 
 
 ' I'm sure you've done all you could to 
 " train us up in the way we should go," 
 and I'll do my best not to " depart from 
 it " when I'm old ; but that's a long way 
 off, dear True.' 
 
 True shook her head, and Janet added, 
 penitently, that she would try to begin at 
 once. They knelt side by side in silent 
 prayer, which the simple but wise woman 
 concluded aloud by ' Our Father,' and 
 ' The grace of our Lord.' Impressionable 
 Janet was in tears, and flung herself into 
 her good friend's arms, by which she was 
 tenderly enfolded. 
 
 Nurse True was to leave by an early 
 train the following morning, so she aroused 
 Janet at break of day. Kind Madame de 
 Belleville gave them a private breakfast, 
 which enabled them to ' gather up the 
 crumbs ' of the last words, ever so signi- 
 ficant. Janet had not believed that she 
 could have felt so miserable as she did 
 when the cab was announced, and madame
 
 172 RESTITUTION. 
 
 came, all smiles and promises, to wish 
 Nurse True good-bye. 
 
 ' I will be a mother to the child, be 
 assured,' she said. ' I have one son of my 
 own, and know what is maternity.' 
 
 ' Thank you, madame,' replied True, as 
 she released herself from clinging Janet, 
 and got into her cab.
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 bruce's tutor. 
 
 Mr. Tom Harton came home from his^ 
 travels. He arrived a year or more after 
 Janet went to school, and meanwhile 
 Bruce had received a desultory education. 
 Edith was strictly conscientious, and taught 
 him to the best of her ability when not 
 herself under tuition at the Cottages. He, 
 with truly masculine in constancy, clamoured 
 for Janet, and, what with maternal indulg- 
 ence and indomitable self-will, did not 
 make much progress. However, it must 
 be confessed that there was more peace in 
 the domestic economy of the Park without 
 Janet than there had been with her.
 
 174 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Mr. Tom Harton increased it fourfold. 
 What terms Mr. Aspenel had made with 
 him did not transpire, but he ao;reed to 
 undertake Master Bruce's education while 
 himself workins: for his deo;ree at home. 
 He resided at Hoplands with his father, 
 while devotino; his mornins: hours to 
 Bruce ; and a study was prepared for that 
 juvenile autocrat, where, it was whispered, 
 the tutor kept a rod in pickle. At any 
 rate he succeeded in bringing the boy into 
 subjection to himself, whatever the power 
 he exercised, by way of indemnity, over 
 his former instructors. But Tom Harton 
 had a way of subjecting most people to him- 
 self. No one knew where lay his talent, 
 but his father said it was in his own un- 
 conquerable will. Be that as it may, even 
 Fan obeyed him, while she heartily disliked 
 him. 
 
 He was the eldest son, and the only one 
 who had displayed a taste for letters. He 
 was somewhat of a pedant as well as a
 
 bruce's tutor. 175 
 
 scholar, and argued witli his father until 
 he silenced if he did not convince him. 
 Mr. Harton preferred his literary jousts 
 with Miss Vigors and the rector, but Tom 
 was omnipotent, and put them all down. 
 He was a reformer, besides, and disapproved 
 of his father's easy ways, not only with his 
 workpeople and servants, but with the 
 gipsies and other vagrants. He was a 
 favourite of Mr. Aspenel's, who would fain 
 have had him as a clerk or factotum had 
 he felt so disposed. He had good manners, 
 good looks, and, before all, a good opinion 
 of himself, which, when not conspicuous, 
 carries weight with the ladies. It certainly 
 did with Mrs. Aspenel. He had travelled 
 a good deal as tutor, and his knowledge of 
 the world made him an oracle at Roselands. 
 He either was, or fancied himself, irresistible 
 to the fair sex, and had a very flattering 
 manner with all but Fan. 
 
 Sauntering one morning over Roselands 
 Common, he saw that damsel hovering
 
 176 RESTITUTION. 
 
 about the gipsies' camp, attended, as usualy 
 by her dogs. She was talking to an old 
 woman who might have been her grand- 
 mother, so strange was the typical likeness 
 between them. Several ragged urchins 
 Avere squatting about, a couple of donkeys 
 were browsing near, and a rough cur was 
 impudently disputing territory with Fan's 
 more aristocratic canine friends. Within 
 a small low tent a couple of men were 
 tinkering and making skewers, and beyond, 
 near a cart, a w^oman vv^as spreading out 
 some clothes to dry. 
 
 Tom Harton drew near, unperceived 
 at first, but Fan soon turned and faced 
 him. 
 
 'This is Mrs. Lee, who is almost queen 
 of the gipsies,' she said. ' She is of a very 
 old family, Tom, and you are always talk- 
 ins; about old families. Tell him about 
 your family, Mrs. Lee. She thinks I must 
 belong to the Hearns, because Clorandy, 
 which was my mother's name, was a
 
 bruce's tutor. 177 
 
 Hearn. But the Hearns are not quite so 
 old a family as the Lees.' 
 
 *Ours is too remote to be traced/ ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Lee, in excellent English, 
 'but I believe we are of the stock of 
 Abraham. I'm told he lived in a tent.' 
 
 ' I should think it time for you to dwell 
 in stone walls at your age, and to find more 
 suitable occupation for your descendants. 
 Fan, come with me,' returned Tom, severe- 
 ly, glancing about him. 
 
 ' I could no more die in a house than 
 could my fathers before me. Smoke 
 suffocates me ; and I'll commit my soul to 
 the natural elements, and leave my body in 
 my tent, or I'll not die at all.' 
 
 Mrs. Lee stood with flashing eyes and 
 arms akimbo. With many-coloured shawl 
 and fantastic head-gear she looked like a 
 sibyl, and Tom longed to place her on the 
 oracle-giving tripod. But he said, sen- 
 tentiously, 
 
 ' We must send the inspector to look 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 RESTITUTION. 
 
 after these children. They ought to be at 
 school. I daresay they can neither read 
 nor write.' 
 
 At the word ' Inspector/ the boys took 
 to their heels, and were half across the 
 common in no time. Fan laughed, and Mrs. 
 Lee drew herself up majestically. 
 
 ' We are more learned than you think. 
 I can draw your horoscope or tell your 
 fortune by your palm. Let me try, my 
 fine gentleman.' 
 
 ' And be put in prison for your pains. 
 The law is stringent now, Mrs. Lee.' 
 
 ' Law is hard : so is Aspenel : so are you. 
 Good-day, sir.' So saying, the gipsy woman 
 drew her shawl about her and strode off in 
 the direction of the boys. 
 
 ' She doesn't know you are a Harton,' 
 said Fan. They walked away together, 
 she and Tom. 
 
 ' Have you nothing to do at home, that 
 you pass your time with the gipsies?' 
 asked Tom. ' I should have thought that
 
 bruce's tutor. 179 
 
 a girl could have occupied herself more 
 jDrofitably in many ways. I believe you 
 are taking lessons of Miss Vigors.' 
 
 ' I don't understand them, but I do the 
 gipsies. That is natural, since I am of 
 their race. I try to find out my parentage.' 
 
 ' Better leave that in doubt, unless you 
 wish to rejoin them,' said Tom, coldly. 
 
 ' Perhaps I do — who knows ? But I 
 love Sir, and would not leave him if I 
 could help it. I wish Jack would come 
 home. How far is it to America?' 
 
 'If you paid more attention to your 
 geography, and less to gipsies, you would 
 not ask such foolish questions. Of what 
 use are you in the world, if you do nothing 
 but wander about ?' 
 
 ' I am of some use. I help to make the 
 beds, and mend Sir's stockings, and feed 
 the poultry, and see to the dogs, and nurse 
 Sir when he is ill, and make the tea, and 
 do a lot more things. I really do try, Mr. 
 Tom; but I am afraid I am a born gipsy, 
 
 n2
 
 180 EESTITUTION. 
 
 and I shall never be good for mucli. Jack 
 says I shall go and keep house for him. 
 I think I mio^ht manao^e awiojwam.' 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted 
 by the appearance of Mrs. Clarville and 
 Edith. They were on their way to the 
 encampment the others had left. Mrs. 
 Clarville was taking Edith to see for her- 
 self the poor people whom her father was 
 trying to exterminate. She had not met 
 the Wandering AVill whom Mr. Aspenel 
 was anxious to find, and she and her son 
 continued to do what they could for the 
 gipsies. 
 
 ' They are much to be pitied, but they 
 must be educated,' said Tom Harton. 
 * They cannot evade the law much longer.' 
 
 But Fan managed to elude Tom, and was 
 on the watch for Mrs. Clarville and Edith 
 when they returned. 
 
 ' Do you think they are so very wicked ?' 
 she asked, breaking in upon them from a 
 neighbouring covert, where she had been
 
 bruce's tutoe. 181 
 
 lying in ambush. ' Is it very bad to be a 
 born gipsy, like me ? Oh, I wish I were 
 white and good, like you, Miss Aspenel !' 
 
 The o:irl was in a state of o-reat excite- 
 ment, and there were tears in her large 
 black eyes. 
 
 ' What have they been saying to you. 
 Fan ?' asked Mrs. Clarville ; and Fan 
 poured out her version of Tom's opinions. 
 
 ' Everybody talks of the gipsies as if 
 they weren't human beings, much less 
 Christians,' she said, indignantly. ' But 
 I'm a gipsy, and yet Tm a human being 
 and a Christian.' 
 
 * But you are trained and educated, 
 dear,' said Mrs. Clarville, kindly. 'The 
 real gipsy, or Egyptian, as may be, has 
 wandered so long, and had such curious 
 ways, that he has passed out of the road 
 to education, until he shuns it as an 
 enemy. We who call ourselves Christians 
 are much to blame for this state of things ; 
 but we are aroused at last, and, what with
 
 182 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Board-schools and everybody's wish to do 
 good to somebody else, the gipsies are 
 likely either to be rooted out or made like 
 the rest of us.' 
 
 • I'm sure I hope they won't grow like 
 Tom,' said Fan, reflectively. ^ He scolds 
 me for trying to look after my own people. 
 But you and Mr. Clarville are very good 
 to them, and they love you, if they some- 
 times laugh at you. I tell them they 
 oughtn't to laugh, because you only preach 
 to them for their good.' 
 
 ' Why do they laugh at us, Fan ? ' 
 asked Mrs. Clarville, restraining a laugh 
 herself. 
 
 ' I think I oughtn't to tell; but I will, 
 if 3'ou will not tell again,' replied Fan, 
 confidentially. ' They say that, with all 
 your wisdom, you're not half as learned as 
 they are ; for you can only tell them what 
 has happened already, and they can tell 
 you w^hat is to come to pass ; for they 
 believe in themselves and their predictions.^
 
 bruce's tutor. 183 
 
 ' And is that all the good we have done 
 them, Fan T asked Mrs. Clarville, sadly. 
 
 ' Oh, no. One thing that you teach 
 them is, they say, far more wonderful 
 than all their arts, because it tells of past 
 and future, and of a world beyond the 
 stars they pretend to prophesy by. This 
 is the history of our Lord Jesus Christ.' 
 
 Fan spoke this solemnly, and bowed her 
 head. 
 
 ' If we have done only this, we have not 
 utterly failed,' said Mrs. Clarville. ' But, 
 if you believe this marvellous and mysteri- 
 ous story of the salvation of our fallen 
 race, you may be of immense service to 
 your people, as you call our wandering 
 friends.' 
 
 'How?' asked Fan, suddenly standing 
 still and facing Mrs. Clarville with hands 
 outspread, eyes dilated, and lips apart. 
 
 ' By studying well the Holy Scriptures 
 yourself, and teaching them to the tribes 
 who eschew both church and chapel.'
 
 184 EESTITUTION. 
 
 ' I will !' cried Fan, casting up her 
 hands, and uplifting her eyes in a way 
 that in anyone else might have seemed 
 theatrical. 
 
 ' But, my dear child, you cannot under- 
 take this great work without faith and 
 prayer. We can do nothing of ourselves.' 
 
 ' Will you teach me, ma'am ? Mrs. Lee 
 says you could convert the world. May I 
 learn of you, instead of Miss Vigors, who 
 only gives me hard books to read that 
 aren't of any use — all about things that 
 have happened long ago, while I want 
 to know all that is going on now. I like 
 the newspapers best, though they make 
 me cry. Is not the world very, very 
 sad?' 
 
 ' It is. But each of us can help to make 
 it less so.' 
 
 ' How ?' exclaimed both the young girls 
 at once ; for each in her different way was 
 excited by what her friend was saying. 
 
 ' First by doing our duty to God and
 
 bruce's tutor. 185 
 
 the relations and friends to whom Ave 
 belong ; secondly, to our neighbour.' 
 
 ' I want to know what my duty is,' cried 
 Fan, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. 
 Clarville. 
 
 ^ Come to me to-morrow afternoon, and 
 we will see what God's Word teaches us,' 
 said ]\Irs. Clarville. 
 
 'May I come, too, dear auntie?' asked 
 Edith. 
 
 ' If Mrs. Aspenel has no objection.' 
 
 ' She don't like me. She don't think 
 me good enough for Miss Aspenel — I, a 
 born gipsy,' said Fan, humbly. 
 
 They w^ere at the gate of the Cottages, 
 which was nccirly opposite the Park gates, 
 so they separated, Mrs. Clarville going to 
 her small abode, the girls turning towards 
 their homes. 
 
 ' May I walk a little way with you. Miss 
 Aspenel ?' asked Fan. 
 
 Edith looked doubtfully at the dogs, and 
 felt dubious about Fan.
 
 186 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ^To heel, Rolf! to heel, Jack!' shouted 
 Fan, and her faithful attendants slunk 
 behind her. Then to Edith : ' I will run 
 away the moment T see anyone ; but I 
 want to ask you something particular, 
 Miss Aspenel.' 
 
 'Then we will take the side-path,' re- 
 plied Edith ; and, instead of the drive, 
 they skirted the Park wall. 
 
 ' If my mother, Clorandy, is still alive, 
 and if I have a father, and if I should 
 find them, and if they wanted me, ought 
 I to go away with them, and leave Mr. 
 Harton ?' asked Fan, speaking rapidly. 
 
 Edith was taken by surprise, and could 
 not answer at once. Fan began again — 
 
 ' If 3'our father was to lose all his money, 
 and be an outcast, or a bankrupt, or what- 
 ever they call it, and if everyone was to 
 forsake him, even Mrs. Aspenel, and he 
 was left all alone in the w^orld, Avould you 
 stand by him and try to comfort him, even
 
 bruce's tutor. 187 
 
 though he isn't a very kind father, and 
 nobody likes him ?' 
 
 ' I think — I hope 1 should, Fan,' replied 
 Edith at last, slowly and reflectively. 
 
 ' I thou;2;ht you would say that,' con- 
 tinned Fan, a shadow j)assing over her 
 features. ' But, if you had some one you 
 loved very dearly far, far away, would you 
 leave 3^our father and run after him?' 
 
 ' I hope not, Fan. But such a thing 
 could never happen to me. I have no 
 friends at a distance, except Janet, and 
 she, you know, is at schooL' 
 
 ' If 3'ou had somebody you hated tor- 
 menting you all day long, would you run 
 away from him ? I suppose you don't 
 hate Mrs. Aspenel, though I think Mis& 
 Janet does ; but, if you did, would you run 
 away from her ?' 
 
 ' I think not. I must do my duty to 
 my father, and sister, and brother. Be- 
 sides, I have Nurse True.'
 
 188 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Fan's countenance changed ; it grew 
 reflective. Then she said, 
 
 ' Miss Janet isn't as good as you. She 
 would like to run away. She told me so.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Fan, you are older than Janet, 
 and should know better. She is very 
 happy at school. She is making many 
 friends, and monsieur and madame are 
 very kind to her. She spent her holidays 
 with them in Paris, and is to go for Christ- 
 mas with her friend, Miss Hazelwood, to 
 their place in the north. She sent us 
 home a beautiful painting, which her mas- 
 ter considers well done, and says she is 
 working quite hard.' 
 
 ' Then why doesn't she come home ? 
 What right has Mrs. Aspenel to keep her 
 away from you? There is nothing but 
 injustice in all the world !' 
 
 ' Fan ! you should not speak so. Good- 
 bye ; I think I must make haste home.' 
 
 * I beg your pardon, Miss Aspenel. I 
 didn't mean to be rude. Mr. Tom says
 
 bruce's tutor. 189 
 
 I am rude, and that it is my gipsy blood. 
 I think that is rude, don't you ?' 
 
 ' Very ; but good-bye, Fan. We must 
 try to do right, notwithstanding our 
 temptations to do wrong.' 
 
 With which laconic truism Edith hur- 
 ried oif, leaving Fan in doubt whether she 
 had offended her or not.
 
 190 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 UNE PETITE PAKTIE CAKREE. 
 
 When Edith reached the house, after she 
 left Fan, she went to her kind friend and 
 counsellor, Nurse True. She was much 
 distressed at the hint concerning; Janet's 
 desire to ^ run away,' and wondered how 
 and when she could have made a confi- 
 dante of Fan. Nurse True reassured her, 
 as usual, by saying that Fan had probably 
 imagined it, because people gossiped about 
 her disagreements with her step-mother. 
 
 'At any rate, Miss Janet is safe now, 
 deary,' she said. ' She will have no 
 temptation to run away from those nice, 
 kind people who keep the school. All I
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CARREE. 191 
 
 fear is that she'll be as much spoilt by 
 them as she was kept under by Mrs. As- 
 penel. As for poor Fan, she can no more 
 help wandering than I can help sitting 
 still. Her forbears w^ere gipsies ; mine w^ere 
 factory hands ; and as the tree's bent so 
 it lies. 'Tis like the sins o' the fathers. 
 We inherit by nature, but are changed by 
 grace.' 
 
 ' I say, Edith, you must dress for dinner,' 
 here broke in Bruce, whip in hand. ' I 
 want to be nauo'htv. Xurse True, I will 
 be naughty.' 
 
 Edith, who dreaded all battles and dis- 
 putes, ran to her room. Bruce, held in 
 awe by his tutor, gave vent to his feelings 
 when away from him, and Xurse True, as 
 wx41 as Mrs. Aspenel and Edith, had more 
 than they could do to curb him. As to 
 Edith, she w^as in a perpetual turmoil. 
 Her shy, peace-loving nature was attacked 
 on all sides. Since she had made one of 
 the family-party at meals, her mind had
 
 192 KESTITUTION. 
 
 been constantly disturbed. She wanted to 
 ' honour her father,' and love her step- 
 mother; she tried to do it with all her 
 strength, and was miserable because she 
 failed. In all that great house the only 
 one she could honour and love was Nurse 
 True. And she was not yet clear-sighted 
 enough to understand either her father or 
 his wife. She did not realize that greed 
 on one side and profusion on the other 
 caused the disputes and bickerings to 
 which she had become an unwilling lis- 
 tener, or that the awful craze for money 
 was at the root. Money to save or money 
 to spend — what is the difference, when the 
 saving or spending is for mere personal 
 gratification ? 
 
 Edith was always glad when their trio 
 became a quartette by the addition of a 
 guest ; for she was not relegated to the 
 nursery or school-room for one visitor, but 
 always for more. On this occasion, when 
 she and Bruce descended toofether, she
 
 UNE PETITE P ARTIE CARREE. 193 
 
 found Mr. Tom Harton in the drawing- 
 room. Bruce, who was in hilarious spirits, 
 was subdued as by a spell ; and Edith, in 
 spite of her pleasure at seeing a guest, 
 shrank back from the ultra-politeness and 
 studied refinement of Fan's enemy. But 
 Mrs. Aspenel, who liked him and was al- 
 ways agreeable in society, came in and 
 saved Edith from the difficult duty of con- 
 versation. She took refuge wdth Bruce, 
 "svho was seated demurely on the edge of 
 a low ottoman, and listened to the polite 
 and flattering speeches of her step-mother 
 on the progress of that hopeful only son. 
 Bruce listened too, and began to think 
 himself quite a prodigy. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel w^as rather late, but when 
 he arrived, spic and span, the conversation 
 turned upon the state of the money-market 
 until dinner was announced. 
 
 Here was no stint ; for Mrs. Aspenel 
 would entertain according to her state, 
 saying, when her husband remonstrated, 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' If you choose to bring people to dinner, 
 I choose to feed them properly.' 
 
 The battle raged when the bills came in. 
 
 It was a ]jetite partie carree^ and Edith 
 was seated opposite Mr. Tom Harton. She 
 was conscious that he was always looking 
 at her, or seemed to be. He addressed her 
 occasionally ; but the talk flowed princi- 
 pally from him to Mrs. Aspenel. She 
 answered when addressed, like any other 
 good child, but, although in her seven- 
 teenth year, was too timid to originate 
 a sentence. Mrs. Aspenel looked at her 
 occasionally, as if she longed to say, ' How- 
 stupid you are, Edith !' But politeness 
 forbade this manifestation of opinion. Her 
 father was engrossed by his speculations 
 and his dinner combined, and was almost 
 as silent as she ; but he made up for it 
 when she and Mrs. Aspenel left the dining- 
 room. 
 
 ' What are we to do with those pests of 
 creation, the gipsies ?' he began. ' Your
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CARREE. 195 
 
 father persists in letting them pitch their 
 tents on his common, and my object is to 
 root them out.' 
 
 ' Send the School-Board inspector after 
 them. Insist on the children being sent 
 to school and the parents paying. Of 
 course, if you can bring proof of robbery, 
 or fortune-telling, or other misdemeanour, 
 you can get rid of them. My father has 
 been infatuated by them all his life, and 
 now the girl my mother brought up rules 
 him.' 
 
 'She was a gipsy, eh?' asked Mr. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 ' I suppose so. She has all their pecu- 
 liarities, and also their Eastern appearance,' 
 replied Harton. 
 
 ' She is handsome enough for an Indian 
 queen, much less a Cleopatra,' said Aspenel. 
 ' I see her in church and meet her some- 
 times. But there seems no harm in her. 
 "What I want is to be rid of the tribe. Do 
 you know anything of a fellow they call
 
 196 EESTITUTION. 
 
 Wandering Will, who prowls about some- 
 times ? He is a bad lot, and I should like 
 to get him sent abroad.' 
 
 ^ Certainly, Mr. Aspenel. I remember 
 him when I was a boy. He was a clever 
 fellow, and scarcely a born gipsy. My 
 father used to say he must have had some 
 education.' 
 
 ' If your father had done his duty, he 
 wouldn't be roaming about still. Where 
 did you learn to make yourself so agreeable 
 to the ladies?' 
 
 This sudden change of subject might 
 have disconcerted a less self-possessed man 
 than Tom Harton, and the sharp, inquisi- 
 tive glance that accompanied the question 
 would have been still more embarrassing ; 
 but Tom only smiled, and said blandly, 
 
 ' Am I agreeable to them ? I am glad. 
 They always appear beyond the mark of an 
 impecunious fellow like me, and I never 
 bestow a thought on them after I have 
 met them. My studies engross all my time.
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CARREE. 197 
 
 But when in society I go with society. 
 You and I are equally averse to loss of time, 
 I think, Mr. Aspenel, though one must 
 dine.' 
 
 ^ And pay for one's dinner. You would 
 be astonished if you knew how expensive 
 keeping up such a house as this is.' 
 
 ' I can well imagine it. We must train 
 Bruce to understand pounds, shilhngs, and 
 pence thoroughly. That is a part of edu- 
 cation too much neglected, Mr. Aspenel.' 
 
 ' Neglected ! You are right. And all 
 for Latin, and Greek, and mathematics, and 
 tomfooleries that will never make a fortune. 
 But geography and modern languages — 
 work him up in those, I beg you.' 
 
 Whatever was Mr. Aspenel's method of 
 saving, Tom Harton remarked that it 
 did not include wine. He drank freely — 
 too freely, he thought. Harton was him- 
 self all but a teetotaller, so he was the 
 better able to estimate the consumption of 
 others. It rather pleased him to find that
 
 198 KESTITUTION. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel had a vulnerable point in his 
 gold-encased character. 
 
 When they joined the ladies, Mrs. As- 
 penel was at the piano. She played and 
 sang like an artist, and she had discovered 
 that Tom Harton was musical. 
 
 ' Edith, let us hear what the old ladies 
 have taught you — if there is such a thing 
 as an old lady — eh, Harton?' said Mr. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 '• Ladies, like wine, mellow by age, Mr. 
 Aspenel. Certainly those at the Aspenel 
 Homes must be extremely mellow.' 
 
 Tom Harton said this with an inde- 
 scribable nonchalance which made Mrs. 
 Aspenel laugh and Edith wonder. 
 
 ' What do you think of them ? What 
 are they doing for you, Edith ?' asked Mr. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 ' They are exceedingly kind. They are 
 doing their best to teach me,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 ' Then let us hear results. In business
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CARREE. 199 
 
 we judge by results. Which is the sing- 
 ing-mistress ? If you can't sing in public, 
 we must stop the supplies. I don't believe 
 in giving something for nothing.' 
 
 ' I will accompany you, Edith,' said Mrs. 
 Aspenel. .' Miss Lilyton has really a good 
 method, and must have been an accom- 
 plished teacher.* 
 
 Poor Edith was sadly nervous, but she 
 did not dare to disobey her father. She 
 had a singularly sweet and sympathetic 
 voice, and timid Miss Lilyton understood 
 both it and her, so she was making progress 
 under her tuition. But she failed to do 
 herself justice, in spite of the ' Bravo ! 
 charming !' of Tom Harton. However, she 
 proved that she had a voice and was in 
 good training ; so her father was satisfied, 
 and said, 
 
 * That isn't bad. The old ladies aren't 
 to be despised, after all. But you won't 
 make your fortune on the boards, if I 
 should lose mine, which is only too likely.
 
 200 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Continental bourses flat, premium on gold 
 of Buenos Ay res fell, and there's no know- 
 ing how soon I may be ruined.' 
 
 ' Not much fear of that, I should say, 
 Mr. Aspenel,' said the aiFectionate wife. 
 
 ' What do you know about it, Mrs. As- 
 penel?' returned the loving husband. 
 
 When Tom Harton took his leave, he did 
 not go straight home, but took the road that 
 led to Roselands or Hoplands Common, as 
 it was indifferently called. When he arrived 
 at the encampment, it was about eleven 
 o'clock. He took care to stand upon the 
 outskirts of it, lest he should excite sus- 
 picion ; but he need not have feared, for 
 his plans, if he had any, were circumvented 
 by his finding the population in repose. 
 
 The scene was picturesque. The dark 
 sky, with its crescent moon and sparkling 
 constellations, looked down on the gorse- 
 clad common and its tiny village of low 
 tents, sleeping donkeys, van, and carts. 
 No human form was visible. There was
 
 UNE PETITE P ARTIE CARREE. 201 
 
 no midniojht marauder bringing in stolen 
 poultry or game, as lie had hoped — no out- 
 lying guard keeping watch. 
 
 *The nineteenth-century gipsy is not 
 what he used to be,' he muttered. ' He is 
 simply inoffensive. But I must do some- 
 thing to please the millionaire ; for has he 
 not daughters?' 
 
 A cur suddenly dashed out from a tent 
 and began to bark. He instantly walked 
 off, taking the path that led through one 
 of his father's copses to the back of 
 his house. Hoplands was an old-fashioned 
 place, half farm, half country-seat, and the 
 outbuildings were large. Yard, drying- 
 ground, and coach-house spoke of a former 
 position superior to the present ; but they 
 were in bad repair, and Tom grumbled as 
 he approached them with words to the 
 effect that his father was letting his 
 property go to rack and ruin. 
 
 As he emerged from the copse which 
 flanked the house on one side, he saw the
 
 202 RESTITUTION. 
 
 fiorure of a man near the o:ate which led 
 into the spacious yard. He was standing 
 as if looking at the premises or at a large 
 yew-tree which had stood for generations 
 in the centre of the 3^ard. He must have 
 been unusually quiet, or Lion, the watch- 
 dog, would have been aroused. Tom came 
 upon him from behind, and laid his hand 
 on his shoulder with the words, 
 
 ^ What may you be doing here at this 
 time of night ?' 
 
 ' No harm. I am footsore, and resting 
 by the gate before going by the copse to 
 the common,' responded the jnan, with per- 
 fect coolness, turning and facing him. 
 
 The voices and the rustle now aroused 
 Lion, who began to bark furiously. Tom 
 quieted him by a few words. Lion, like 
 Bruce and the Hoplands' household gener- 
 ally, instinctively obeyed Mr. Tom. 
 
 ' I should say you were here for no 
 good. I suppose you belong to the gipsy 
 vagabonds on the common, and are on
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CAEREE. 203 
 
 your way to the encampment,' said Tom, 
 trying to look under a slouched, brigand- 
 like hat, which hid all the man's face, save 
 his bushy beard. 
 
 * I do. I am on my way to the common. 
 Thanks to Mr. Harton, the poor, persecuted 
 fugitives from Asia and Africa are allowed 
 breathing-space. Ever since the days of 
 Tamerlane we have been wanderers, and 
 doubtless are of the lost tribes of Israel. I 
 am, if not the Wandering Jew, a wandering 
 Jew.' 
 
 Tom was astonished at the effrontery 
 and mocking tone of the man, as well as at 
 his language. He spoke in good. English, 
 and with pure accent. 
 
 ' Whether Jew or Gentile, you have no 
 business here,' said Tom. 
 
 ' Then, with your good pleasure, I will 
 take my departure. I am the last person 
 in the world to stay where 1 am not 
 wanted. My versatile talents usually en- 
 sure me a welcome. You would scarcely
 
 204 RESTITUTION. 
 
 believe that I have been, as the song 
 «ays, 
 
 " In court, in camp, and grove ; 
 For love is heaven, and heaven is love." ' 
 
 ' You are an impudent vagabond,' said 
 Tom. 
 
 ' Not so. I am myself, as you are your- 
 self. If I am a vagabond, you are one. I 
 merely wander up the copse to the tents ; 
 you wander from the tents down the copse. 
 Vagare, to wander, you know. Remark 
 that I omit the unpolite epithet of " impu- 
 dent." We are both scholars ; but my lore 
 embraces the heavens, yours grovels on 
 the earth. Good-night.' 
 
 He waved his arms in a semi-circle 
 towards the star-tessellated arch above, 
 and then swept the ground as with a 
 scythe. Before Tom could either reply or 
 seize him, as he would fain have done, he 
 was out of sight in the copse. Tom's im- 
 pulse was to loosen Lion and send him 
 after him ; but he was a cautious soul, and
 
 UNE PETITE PARTIE CAREEE. 205 
 
 reflected that if Lion bit him he might 
 feign hydroj^hobia, and he, not believing 
 in Pasteur, would not know what to do 
 with him. Therefore he went into the 
 house, and left Lion to his rest. 
 
 He found his father and Fan waiting up 
 for him. 
 
 ' I couldn't get Fan to bed,' began Mr. 
 Harton. * She wants to know what you 
 had for dinner, what the ladies had on, 
 and how you all comported yourselves, 
 generally and individually.' 
 
 ' Indeed I do not, sir. You sat up, and 
 I sat up with you ; that was all,' said Fan. 
 
 ' AVell, what's the news ? Are the ten- 
 ants behaving better, and does the im- 
 poverished Aspenel mean to join the tithe 
 agitation against Austen, and has he put 
 down the gipsies ?' asked Mr. Harton. 
 
 'Not the latter, certainly,' replied his 
 son. *I walked round the encampment, 
 and found a peaceful colony asleep.' 
 
 ' Spy !' interjected Fan.
 
 206 restitutio:^. 
 
 'And then I came through the copse, 
 and met with a suspicious-looking person- 
 age leaning on the back-gate. He could 
 not have been there for lawful reasons at 
 such an hour.' 
 
 'Why not?' asked Fan. 
 
 ' How do 3^ou know he was a gipsy V 
 asked Mr. Harton. 
 
 Tom recounted the conversation word 
 for word ; for, amongst his manifold ac- 
 complishments, he had a remarkable 
 memory. 
 
 ' That must be Wandering Will back 
 again,' said Mr. Harton, laughing heartily. 
 ' I haven't seen him for years. He is a 
 character worth studying, and you, as a 
 student, should avail yourself of the op- 
 portunity. All sorts of things have been 
 said of him. He has been a prince in dis- 
 guise, roaming, like Haroun al Raschid, to 
 see the world ; a philosopher, like Dio- 
 genes, looking for truth, and not finding 
 it; a swindler, like half our race, who has
 
 UNE PETITE P ARTIE CARREE. 207 
 
 swindled once too often ; a madman, like 
 the other half, who ought to be shut up ; 
 and a fool, like all of us together, who 
 fancies he knows everything, and knows 
 nothino;. I used to think him more roo-ue 
 than fool ; for there's nothing he cannot 
 do, and nothing he has not done.' 
 
 While Mr. Harton spoke, Fan's eyes 
 seemed fastened upon him, and Tom 
 w^atched her narrowly. 
 
 'You know something of this gentle- 
 man. Fan ?' he said. 
 
 ' I have heard of him, but I never saw 
 him, Mr. Tom. I want to see him. Mrs. 
 Lee has told me about him.' 
 
 'What! the old Tigress?' asked Mr. 
 Harton. 
 
 ' She says they call her Tigress because 
 she loves her whelps,' replied Fan, indig- 
 nantly. ' I think it wrong to give people 
 nick-names. She is a ver}^ nice old lady.' 
 
 ' Well done, Fan ! She is a connection 
 of Wandering Will's, 1 have heard; but
 
 208 RESTITUTION. 
 
 how I can't conceive, for he is a man of 
 education, and she — well. Fan, I suppose a 
 tigress can't be educated.' 
 
 ' I don't know, sir ; but they are very 
 clever at the circuses.' 
 
 *As you have nothing more to wait up 
 for, Fan, perhaps you had better go to 
 bed,' said inexorable Tom. 
 
 She made an involuntary little face at 
 him at which Mr. Harton laughed, kissed 
 her benefactor, and withdrew. 
 
 The others soon followed, Tom mut- 
 tering, 
 
 'Wandering Will! Wandering Will! 
 That's the man Mr. Aspenel wants. I'll 
 have him.'
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Edith's schooling. 
 
 Edith's education was strangely desultory, 
 but as she was in earnest in pursuino; 
 it, and as her mistresses were equally in 
 earnest in imparting what they knew, she 
 did not do amiss. It was delightful to her 
 to know that she gave new life to the 
 inmates of the Cottages. They actually 
 rubbed up the rusty iron of their lore, and 
 took to all sorts of accomplishments in her 
 service. The expected guerdon from her 
 father was second to the gift she bestoAved 
 — she and Fan — for they both brightened 
 up the lives of the good ladies. Edith 
 spent the best part of her day with them, 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 RESTITUTION. 
 
 and it might have made the cynical or satiri- 
 cal smile to watch her go from one flower- 
 encircled door to another, to take her vari- 
 ous lessons. But she saw nothing ridiculous 
 in it. Her teachers were accomplished 
 women, and each instructed her in the art 
 she understood best. Neither she nor Fan 
 had been thrown much with other girls, so 
 they had not acquired the manners of the 
 day. They did not call their friends 
 * Poor old thing !' which is the pitifully 
 respectful epithet by which young people 
 speak of their elders, or patronise them as 
 if they had been born before the Eocene 
 period, whatever that may be ; or take the 
 words out of their mouths because they 
 were so ' awfully slow.' On the contrary, 
 Edith was grateful to them — genuinely 
 grateful, and reproved Fan when she 
 sometimes grumbled at Miss Vivors' • hard 
 books.' These they managed to study 
 together when fortunate chance permitted, 
 and nothing pleased Miss Vigors more
 
 Edith's schooling. 211 
 
 than to deliver a lecture on some learned 
 topic to the two girls, who were expected 
 to take notes, and to give her a full, true, 
 and particular account of it. 
 
 ' People suppose, my dears, that because 
 one is not certified one knows nothing 
 thoroughly. A great mistake,' she said 
 one day, as she sat, spectacles on nose, cap 
 erect, and huge book before her, giving 
 a history lesson. ' I hate cramming. One 
 ounce of well-digested food is more nour- 
 ishing to the body than one pound of ill- 
 digested. And so with the mind. One 
 thing at a time. History to-day, geography 
 to-morrow, and so on.' 
 
 ' I wish it was always geography,' sighed 
 Fan. ' I should like to go all over the 
 world.' 
 
 ' And I to stay at home,' put in Edith. 
 
 They were a great contrast. Edith with 
 her pale, fair, sweet, intellectual face, and 
 small, delicate form ; Fan mth her russet 
 cheeks, black, glittering eyes and hair, red 
 
 p2
 
 212 EESTITUTION. 
 
 lips, and strongly-built figure ; a greater 
 contrast, indeed, than were Edith and 
 Janet. But Janet was Fan's favourite, 
 and she never tired of asking questions 
 about her and her education. Edith dis- 
 covered that Janet had never planned to 
 run away, but had only said how much 
 she should enjoy it, when Fan had sug- 
 gested the charms of a roving life. That 
 Janet should actually be chained to the 
 desk, learning languages of native teachers, 
 and pursuing the ' abstruse sciences,' as 
 she called them in her letters, bewildered 
 Fan, while it delighted Edith. 
 
 The sisters wrote once a week to one 
 another, and the minute details on either 
 side were quite a domestic diary, in which 
 the ladies of the Cottages and the mon- 
 sieur and madame of the Yale figured 
 largely. 
 
 To return to Miss Vigors from this 
 digression. 
 
 'I considered myself a traveller, my
 
 Edith's schooling. 213 
 
 dears, when I was young,' she said, 'for I 
 went Avith a family to Boulogne. Now 
 people go from Pole to Pole. Apropos of 
 the Poles, Fan, what can you tell me about 
 them?' 
 
 Fan, who was expecting a foreign 
 episode, started. 
 
 'The Poles, Miss Vigors! AVhy, they 
 are the ends of the great, big axle, on 
 which the earth turns like a big wheel ; 
 but I never shall understand how the axle 
 was pushed through, or how the earth 
 runs round upon it, and we don't tumble 
 off. Miss Aspenel says she does, but I 
 don't.' 
 
 ' The laws of gravitation ' began 
 
 Miss Vigors, extending her hand, in which 
 she held a paper-knife, when there came a 
 tap at the door. 
 
 It was Mrs. Clarville, and both girls rose 
 to give her an enthusiastic greeting, as 
 they always did. 
 
 'I fancied your time was up. Miss
 
 214 EESTITUTION. 
 
 Vigors/ she said. ' I just looked in to 
 arrest Fan before she goes home.' 
 
 ' It is more than up,' said Fan, pulling 
 out a small silver watch, a parting gift 
 from her friend Jack. 'It is nearly a 
 quarter-past twelve, instead of twelve ; and 
 Miss Aspenel ought to be at Miss Lilyton's 
 at twelve.' 
 
 'Then you are kept in,' laughed Mrs. 
 Clarville. 
 
 ' When I once begin my historical lecture, 
 I forget time. Young ladies, you are dis- 
 missed,' said Miss Vigors, who never forgot 
 what she considered due to the scholastic 
 scheme. 
 
 Fan put on her hat with alacrity, and 
 went olf with Mrs. Clarville, while Edith 
 lingered to thank Miss Vigors for her pains- 
 taking lesson. 
 
 ' It is a pleasure to teach you, my dear; 
 but Fan !' Miss Vigors uplifted her hands 
 significantly, while Edith busied herself 
 in replacing the school-books beneath a
 
 EDITHS SCHOOLING. 215 
 
 curtain in the passage, improvised to con- 
 ceal them. 
 
 Miss Viofors' sitting-room resembled no- 
 thing if not a bazaar. Every available 
 space was covered with ornaments, to 
 which even her favourite authors <rave 
 way, and were relegated to a bookshelf on 
 the small landing. ' Presents from my 
 pupils, my dears. I, like her most gracious 
 Majesty, our pattern Queen, have kept 
 every gift I ever received, from childhood 
 until now,' she would say. To which 
 Edith would reply, 'How very nice of you, 
 Miss Vigors ;' and Fan, ' No wonder you've 
 got so many, ma'am, for that must have 
 been a long time ago.' 
 
 Edith hastened on to Miss Lilyton, who 
 was seated at her piano, industriously 
 practising the accompaniments to the 
 exercises and songs she was teaching her. 
 The piano and music-stand occupied much 
 space ; and Miss Lily ton's room was not as 
 neat as it should be. It was strewn with
 
 216 llESTITUTION. 
 
 music, hymn-books, scores for the choir, 
 and all the other accessories of village 
 practice, for Miss Lilyton Avas the organist's 
 right hand ; indeed, people were so ill- 
 natured as to say that not only she, but 
 others of the ' old ladies,' as they were 
 called by their neighbours, had an eye to 
 the widowed rector. 
 
 But he knew better, though he and Mr. 
 Harton would sometimes poke Miss Vigors 
 and Miss Lilyton at one another, for they 
 both loved a joke. Mrs. Lucy was not 
 beyond suspicion ; but nobody ventured to 
 suggest Mrs. Clarville, who, having a 
 grown-up son, was considered sufficiently 
 provided for. 
 
 ' Widowers, widows, and old maids are 
 staple commodities at Roselands,' Tom 
 Harton would say to Mrs. Aspenel, when 
 wishing to be amusing, which he was not 
 by nature, only satirical. 
 
 However, to see meek Miss Lilyton giv- 
 ing Edith her lesson, you Avould not have
 
 Edith's schooling. 217 
 
 supposed lier capable of matrimonial aspira- 
 tions ; she was too much engrossed with 
 her music. So Avas Edith, who loved both 
 the art and her mistress too well to think 
 of anything else while engaged with them. 
 Fan once called them a Christmas rose and 
 a snowdrop ; and her illustration suited 
 them. 
 
 Fan was eno:a2:ed in serious conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. Clarville Avhile the sino-inff 
 lesson went on. That lady had given 
 much time to Fan of late, for she had dis- 
 covered in her a strange spirit of restless- 
 ness, which she could not account for, and 
 Fan would not. 
 
 Mrs. Clarville had undertaken the 
 superintendence of the Sunday-school, in 
 which Fan had a class that she managed 
 remarkably well. Her pupils were devoted 
 to her, and whatever Fan said was law. 
 Of course she had her own irregular 
 method of teaching, but she taught, and 
 Mrs. Clarville did not interfere.
 
 218 RESTITUTION. 
 
 It was in connection witli this class and 
 in reference to a previous interview that 
 Mrs. Clarville wished to speak to her. 
 Fan had ah^eady poured out her heart to 
 this friend, on the subject that had fright- 
 ened Edith, and had received counsel that 
 she did not seem inclined to follow. When 
 they were seated in Mrs. Clarville's pretty 
 room. Fan began : 
 
 'Sir says that he will fight Squire 
 Aspenel to the death before the gipsies 
 shall be expelled from the common. He 
 has offered to pay for the children's school- 
 ing, and Mr. Tom is in a great Avay. I 
 can't live any longer with Mr. Tom, ma'am. 
 I shall run away, I know I shall.' 
 
 'Nonsense, Fan. You must stop and 
 teach the gipsy children. If Mr. Harton 
 will pay for them at the Board-school, and 
 we can get them to Sunday-school, think 
 what good we may do.' 
 
 ' They're too wild and dirty. Tidy 
 children won't learn with them. They've
 
 Edith's schooling. 210 
 
 no shoes and stockings, and wouldn't wear 
 them if they had.' 
 
 ' But, Fan, the inspector has been down 
 upon them and caught them. If they do 
 not go to school they will be fined, and, if 
 they decamp, Mr. Aspenel will follow them 
 up. They are liable to imprisonment for 
 breaking the law, and he is resolved to root 
 them out.' 
 
 ' Horrid old miser ! How did he manage 
 to be Miss Aspenel's and Miss Janet's 
 father ? Now, I'm just like my fathers, and 
 I suppose you are, ma'am. " Cat after 
 kind," Mr. Tom says of me. But he isn't 
 like Sir.' 
 
 Fan looked reflective ; Mrs. Clarville 
 laughed. 
 
 'Heredity is a difficult question, Fan ; 
 but, if you will help me and my son, we 
 may perhaps be of use to your fathers, as 
 you call the gipsies. Gerard is accustom- 
 ed to meeting all sorts of people when he 
 prowls about London to try to do good ;
 
 220 RESTITUTION. 
 
 and you know he and I visit the encamp- 
 ment most weeks. To-morrow is Saturday, 
 and he will be down, If you will come 
 with us, we will try to persuade the child- 
 ren to come to Sunday-school, as a pre- 
 liminary to Board-school ; you can have 
 them in your class. Once bring the young 
 under Christian teaching, and they will 
 tell their parents of Him who died to save 
 them.' 
 
 ' That's what I want to do. I must find 
 my mother Clorandy, and ask her for my 
 father, and give them the " glad tidings.' 
 ' That's the meaning of " Gospel," Mr. Aus- 
 ten told me.' 
 
 Fan rose in her excitement, and stood 
 before Mrs. Clarville. 
 
 ' In God's good time, dear Fan, you may 
 even do this. But first let us help our 
 friends who are near us. Ask Mr. Harton 
 if you may come with us to-morrow after- 
 noon.' 
 
 ' Mustn't tell Tom. He's like a weasel.
 
 Edith's schooling. 221 
 
 That's the same as a skunk which Jack 
 killed, only it don't smell like those 
 American beasts. Tom is always after me 
 and pokes his nose into everybody's aifairs. 
 I'll manage to puzzle him to-morrow, 
 though, and put him on another scent, 
 while we go to the common. I'll say Mr. 
 Aspenel has sent for him — oh ! it won't be 
 a story, ma'am, for he has — and he'd make 
 his way through the earth, like that dreadful 
 axle, straight to the Poles, for an Aspenel. 
 How does the axle get through the earth, 
 and what a big piece of iron it must be ? 
 I can't believe all that Miss Vigors tells 
 us : and what's the use ?' 
 
 This question was too deep for Mrs. 
 Clarville, who, like Fan, found enough to 
 do immediately round her, and never 
 puzzled her brains over abstruse matters. 
 She had, however, relaxed somewhat in 
 her determination not to undertake Edith's 
 coaching-up in languages ; for she read 
 and spoke French and German with her
 
 222 RESTITUTION. 
 
 whenever opportunity offered. But this 
 was done with the proviso that no return 
 should be made; for Mrs. Clarville had an 
 independent spirit, albeit, poor lady she 
 was living, as she herself expressed it, ' on 
 charity.' These anomalies are curious, and 
 occur turn where you will ; but her pride 
 resisted what it called being under an 
 obligation to Mr. Aspenel. The founder of 
 the ' Homes ' had nothing to do either with 
 him or his family ; therefore she did not 
 owe her house or annuity to him. Edith, 
 who looked on her as a perfect woman, did 
 not understand the root of her apparent 
 generosity. 
 
 While she and Fan were still discoursing 
 of the plans for the morrow, Edith appeared. 
 She was in haste, for it was nearly the 
 Park luncheon-time. She said she would 
 return in the afternoon, and then she and 
 Fan departed together. She did return in 
 the afternoon, and found her friend ready 
 for her. Mrs. Clarville, though a clever
 
 Edith's schooling. 223 
 
 linguist, was not a teacher, so the lesson 
 was more conversational than theoretical ; 
 but they both enjoyed it. According to 
 modern custom they discussed their English 
 friends in French, and Janet and Gerard 
 were their themes. 
 
 ' I promised to go to Mrs. Lucy,' ex- 
 claimed Edith, in the midst of a maternal 
 effusion. ' I am learning a wonderful em- 
 broidery stitch, which she says is hundreds 
 of years old, l^ut which has been reproduced 
 at the School of Art.' 
 
 ' Nothing new under the sun,' laughed 
 Mrs. Clarville, and Edith proceeded to Mrs. 
 Lucy. 
 
 No one knew exactly how Mrs. Lucy 
 managed to keep up with her age in the 
 High- Art school of needlework ; but she 
 did, and, it was shrewdly suspected, turned 
 an honest penny — as many a richer woman 
 does, to whom the sous is not a necessity 
 — by supplying a certain shop with her 
 work. Pride as-ain ! She did not confess
 
 224 RESTITUTION. 
 
 this, but preferred conversing on past gen- 
 erations of Lucys to her OAvn praiseworthy- 
 exertions. For she owed the power of 
 helping occasionally the poor around her 
 to the sale of the beautiful and fanciful 
 designs that grew beneath her lingers. 
 Edith admired and imitated, and Mrs. Lucy, 
 in her most lackadaisical voice, generally 
 wound up her lesson by, ' My dear Miss 
 Aspenel, you will soon surpass me.' 
 
 She and Edith might have been them- 
 selves media3val as they sat over their 
 embroidery in that small Elizabethan room ; 
 for Mrs. Lucy had managed to save such 
 remnants of her former home as were stifFest 
 and ugliest. She called it aesthetic and 
 artistic, and prided herself on having 
 nothing absolutely modern in her very 
 small abode. A great display of blue ware 
 hung between the family portraits, and the 
 village carpenter had surpassed himself in 
 certain shelves that surmounted the chim- 
 ney-piece, and contained crockery- ware
 
 Edith's schooling. 225 
 
 enough for the use of all the Cottages. She 
 endeavoured to educate Edith up to High- 
 Art and High-Church ; but, as Fan said, 
 ' Miss Aspenel is too lowly for that sort of 
 thing,' and she did not make much way. 
 
 However, obedient Edith made the best 
 of her opportunities, and Avas quite happy 
 so long as she was not separated from her 
 old friends and Xurse True. Her scholastic 
 day w^ould not be fniished without a visit 
 to bedridden Miss Lome and energetic Miss 
 Short, both of whom welcomed her, as did 
 their faithful attendants, as moonlight on 
 the evenino^ of their lives. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 226 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 Gerard always said, change of occupation 
 is recreation, which his affectionate mother 
 believed to be a proverb, whereas he made 
 it out of his own head, as the children say. 
 He could not always secure a half-holiday 
 on Saturday, for Mr. Aspenel used many 
 curious arts to deprive him and his 
 other employes of it ; but he managed to be 
 at the encampment on this particular Sat- 
 urday at about four o'clock. His mother 
 and Fan were with him. The trio went 
 into the midst of the gipsies, just as if it 
 was a natural thing, and began to converse 
 with them freely. Mrs. Lee, or the Tigress,
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 227 
 
 ns she was called, was chief speaker, but 
 such men and women as were ' at home ' 
 joined occasionally. Preparations for de- 
 camping appeared to be in progress, and 
 there was an unusual stir when the visitors 
 appeared. Children and dogs were numer- 
 ous, as usual, and the scene was diversified 
 by the return of certain members of the 
 community, who had been abroad selling 
 their wares. Men with skewers, pegs, or 
 cane for chair-mending ; women with 
 baskets of all kinds of goods, and babies 
 tightly shaAvled to their sides. They spoke 
 to one another in a jargon incomprehensi- 
 ble to our friends, but havino^ its oridn in 
 Romany, diluted and degraded by inter- 
 mixture of the born gipsy Avith the travel- 
 ling vagrant of less pretentious lineage. 
 Indeed, the genuine gipsy is fast dying out 
 of the land, and the Tigress was a true 
 specimen of the vanishing race. 
 
 It was a clear September day. The air 
 was bracing, the sun was not too hot, and 
 
 q2
 
 228 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Gerard felt that it was a boon to breathe 
 and feel. He thought of the multitudes 
 he had left, crowding bridge, riverside, and 
 wharf, and no longer wondered that his 
 bare-footed, brightly-clad brothers and sis- 
 ters preferred the breezy common and can- 
 vas tent to the close room and foggy 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Mrs. Clarville was a frequent visitor to 
 these poor people, and, thanks to the rec- 
 tor and Mr. Harton, seldom came unpro- 
 vided with comforts for such as were sick ; 
 though the invalids were few. She man- 
 aged, however, to enter, by stooping, into 
 a low tent where a woman lay on a bed on 
 the ground, with a week-old baby by her 
 side, and to administer a small deed and 
 word of comfort ; but, as this was not the 
 object of her visit, she did not remain long. 
 Glancing into another tent, she fancied she 
 saw a man at the further end, but she did 
 not venture to intrude. The major part 
 of her motley acquaintance were in view.
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 229 
 
 Having paved the way by this kindly act, 
 she opened the campaign. 
 
 '■ We are old friends now, and I shouldn't 
 advise you against your interest,' she be- 
 gan ; ' but, since it is the law of the land 
 that all children shall be educated, why 
 don't you take advantage of your present 
 situation, so near the Board-school, and 
 send your children ?' 
 
 ' We want none of their eddication ; we 
 won't be beholden to them,' said the 
 Tigress, extending her arm, and stamping 
 her foot. 
 
 ' We ain't got no money, ma'am,' put in 
 a man, with a whining voice. 
 
 ^ Perhaps the money would be found for 
 a week or so, just to make a trial,' con- 
 tinued Mrs. Clarville. ' Only think how 
 much better it is to grow up with know- 
 ledge than without it. Such of you as can 
 read confess that.' 
 
 ' Yes ; there's some truth in what you 
 say, missus,' growled another itinerant.
 
 230 EESTITUTIOX. 
 
 who was no more of a gipsy than Mrs, 
 Clarville herself. 
 
 Here Gerard broke in. 
 
 'Why, my friends, I shouldn't have a 
 shirt to my back but for the three R's. 
 You know what that means, Reading, Rit- 
 ing, and Rithmetic.' A laugh, ' In these 
 days you haven't a chance without learn- 
 ing. You may as well go to jail or work- 
 house, if you don't know how to use what 
 brains you have. Tents are pleasant, God's 
 air is delightful ; but railroads and fresh 
 towns leave no space for tents, and the 
 smoke from machinery blackens the pure 
 air. By the time these boys are men, 
 they won't find standing-room, unless they 
 force their way through the throng by 
 learning. AVhy, friends, you stand in their 
 light by letting them run away from school.' 
 
 ' Force us to school — force us to stone 
 walls — force us to death in stifling smoke !' 
 cried the Tigress, the crimson kerchief that 
 covered her head trembling as she shook
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 231 
 
 it and her fist. ^ Never ! I'll die where 
 I've lived, under God's heaven, with 
 my grandchildren and great-grandchildren 
 round me.' 
 
 ' God's heaven canopies city as well as 
 moor,' replied Gerard, reverently. ' Our 
 Father cares for us everywhere, and we 
 should show our gratitude by following 
 Him. But how can we do that unless 
 we learn the way? And how can we 
 understand that unless we read it ?' 
 
 Murmurs of ' True for you. I don't 
 want to know the way. He speaks like a 
 parson,' succeeded this effort, accompanied 
 by whiffs of tobacco smoke. 
 
 One handsome young fellow stood up, 
 however, and spoke out. He was the hus- 
 band of the young woman in the tent, and 
 both were of the old families of Lee and 
 Boswell. He glanced deprecatingly at his 
 grandmother, the Tigress, and addressed 
 Mrs. Clarville. 
 
 ' I'm all for learning, ma'am. I can
 
 232 KESTITUTION. 
 
 read a little myself. There's my eldest, 
 turned five, and you may have him, if we 
 stops on here. You've been kind to my 
 Avife and all of us. But I couldn't sell no 
 skewers to-day, and where the money for 
 the schooling's to come from, I can't tell.' 
 
 * Let him come to Sunday-school to- 
 morrow,' cried Fan, seizing on the ragged 
 urchin indicated by the father, who, him- 
 self, looked almost a youth ; 'you needn't 
 pay for that; and I'll give bullseyes and 
 toiFy and a halfpenny to every boy and 
 girl that is in my class by half-past nine 
 o'clock. Who'll come ?' 
 
 ' I will,' and ' I will,' and ' 1 will,' sound- 
 ed on all sides, and every child of the 
 encampment surrounded Fan. 
 
 * A miracle ! a miracle !' were words that 
 reached Gerard's ears, in the midst of the 
 children's ' I wills.' He glanced in the 
 direction whence they seemed to come, 
 and saw a head peering through the open- 
 ing of one of the tents. A slouched gipsy
 
 AT THE EXCAMPMENT. 233 
 
 hat enveloped it so efficiently that beyond 
 a row of gleaming white teeth, just visible 
 through a black, bushy beard, he discerned 
 nothing of the said head. It was with- 
 drawn when he looked towards it. He 
 thought it strange, and resolved to see 
 more of its owner, if possible. A fairer 
 sight awaited him, however, for on the 
 outskirts of the camp, just beyond this 
 particular tent, stood Edith and Bruce, 
 w^ith Nurse True as chaperone. They had 
 been attracted by Fan, and the ' I wills.' 
 
 ' Let them all come to-morrow, Mrs. 
 Lee,' said Fan, persuasively, facing the 
 Tigress. ' I'll see they have fair play ;' 
 then she whispered something which the 
 old woman alone could hear, and which 
 took instantaneous effect. 
 
 ' I'm conwerted ! I'm conwerted !' she 
 exclaimed. 'We'll stop and see the end 
 on't. We won't move on to-morrow morn- 
 ing as we was to. We'll be here for jonr 
 sermon, young mister, if you'll preach to
 
 284 KESTITUTION. 
 
 US. I always listens, and now I'm con- 
 wertecL' 
 
 This conversion had been effected by 
 Fan's whispered finale — 
 
 ' You can circumvent Squire Aspenel.' 
 
 Then she continued aloud, 
 
 ' No child shall have bullseyes or half- 
 pence who hasn't clean face and hands 
 and feet — legs, I mean ; because, if it 
 should rain, your feet must get a little 
 dirty. Nine o'clock sharp, remember.' 
 
 ' Shall us have bullseyes and halfpennies 
 if we goes to Board-school ?' asked a young- 
 ster rolling about at Fan's feet. 
 
 ' Perhaps ; I'll ask. There's no knowing 
 what you may get if you try.' 
 
 ' More kicks than half-pence, maybe,' 
 hissed a bystander. 
 
 ' Learning is better than house and 
 land,' came in a mocking tone from the 
 man in the tent. 
 
 ' We don't w^ant houses or land ; we 
 only want the common, what's public pro-
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 235 
 
 perty, and the fresh air, and to be let 
 alone,' responded a neighbour. 
 
 ' And the learning, which is better,' put 
 in Gerard, good-humouredly. 'Our friend 
 over there has hit the right nail on the 
 head. Some of you who say you can see 
 into the future by means of the occult 
 sciences, can't you prognosticate which of 
 those children may be member of Parlia- 
 ment some of these days, and help to make 
 the laws for the Egyptians ? "Who knows 
 but your native country, Egypt, may 
 belonf^ to us before long?' 
 
 '• Our ancestors were Asiatic,' came from 
 the tent. 
 
 ' No matter ; we've lots of possessions in 
 Asia,' replied Gerard. 
 
 A suppressed laugh from the tent was 
 followed by an inroad upon it. Master 
 Bruce suddenly escaped from True, broke 
 through the encampment, and made for 
 this particular tabernacle. He wanted to 
 find out what was inside, and unceremoni-
 
 236 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ously penetrated the almost imperceptible 
 opening. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Gerard, will you fetch him 
 out?' pleaded Edith, who had followed 
 him, and stopped near Gerard. 
 
 Gerard hastened to the tent. Its owner 
 was using bad language, and Bruce was 
 evidently paying the penalty of his intru- 
 sion, for he was screaming lustily. He 
 thrust open the curtains and crept in, 
 striking his head against the tent-pole as 
 he did so. He saw a man holding Master 
 Bruce by the arm, and cuffing him soundly. 
 ' You deserve it,' was on his lips ; but 
 Bruce in his efforts to escape had managed 
 to throw off the brigand hat, and he recog- 
 nised the man from whose grasp he had 
 rescued Mr. Aspenel. He seized Bruce, 
 and pushed him outside the tent, then 
 faced the Wandering Will that his employer 
 had bade him track. 
 
 * I have seen you before,' he said. 
 
 ' Yes ; you have had the best of it twice.
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 237 
 
 Beware the third time,' replied Will, non- 
 chalantly. ' Your patron fears me too 
 much to bring me to justice, so you had 
 better let me alone. Mind your business 
 of trucklino: to a miser and snivellino; to 
 unbelievers, and I'll mind mine. I'm a 
 philosopher, and only want enough to eat. 
 That was all I was after when your master 
 and I came to blows. I'm neither murderer 
 nor thief. I took the fine lady's purse, 
 and availed myself of one shilling to buy a 
 meal and her railway-ticket to come down 
 here. Ha, ha, ha ! I daresay he stormed 
 at taking another. I saw you on guard, 
 travelled with you, only I didn't go first- 
 class. " He who steals my purse steals 
 trash," said I with my namesake Will, and 
 sent back the miser's gold. I mean to 
 return the shilling when I get one. Tell 
 him so, with my compHments, and that 
 he'd better not send spies after me. I 
 nearly strangled that imp of his. Better 
 let me pass quietly, for I've the best of
 
 238 RESTITUTION. 
 
 it here, if I had the worst you know 
 where.' 
 
 Before Gerard could find words to reply 
 to this rhodomontade, the man fell upon 
 all fours, crept from beneath the tent, and 
 vanished. 
 
 Gerard, who was less nimble, though 
 many years his junior, got out with an 
 effort, and, glancing round, saw him scud- 
 ding across the common. 
 
 ' He's not to be caught,' said the Tigress, 
 defiantly ; and, as Gerard did not wish to 
 catch him, he turned to look for Bruce, 
 who was carried ofi* in a contrary direction 
 by his two guardians. 
 
 'Didn't he howl!' laughed Fan, approach- 
 ing him. ' But we had better go now, 
 before they all change their minds.' 
 
 Gerard agreed ; for he was doubtful as 
 to what course to pursue with regard to 
 the fugitive. He went round to take leave 
 of the gipsies. 
 
 ' You'll come and preach to-morrow ; for
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 239 
 
 I'm conwertecl,' said the Tigress, her eyes 
 flashing ominously. 
 
 ' If the children are at school in the 
 morning, you shall have a sermon in the 
 afternoon,' said ready Fan. 
 
 But Gerard was uncertain. Wandering 
 Will's speech had troubled him, and he 
 began to fear that his friends the gipsies 
 mio'ht be harbourino: a criminal. 
 
 His mother came forward, and promised 
 that she at least would visit them on the 
 morrow, and then the trio departed. 
 
 Fan's curiosity concerning Gerard's en- 
 counter with the man in the tent was 
 insatiable, but he thought it best not to 
 gratify it. He evaded her questions, and 
 she grew almost as fierce as the Tigress, 
 declaring that she ought to know every- 
 thing ; for wasn't she ' a born gipsy, as Tom 
 said?' 
 
 He and his mother left her at Hoplands 
 and on their way to the Homes he con- 
 sulted Mrs. Clarville as to what he ought
 
 240 RESTITUTION. 
 
 to do, having first recounted his adventure. 
 
 ' I think you should be before Bruce in 
 telling Mr. Aspenel/ she advised. 'The 
 boy will complain to his mother, who will 
 make the worst of it, and Mr. Aspenel will 
 take out a summons for assault, and the 
 gipsies will get into trouble, just as we 
 may be softening them.' 
 
 Mrs. Clarville was of a sanguine, hope- 
 ful nature, and ' believed all things ' — even 
 in the conversion of a Mahommedan, much 
 less a gipsy. Gerard's faith Avas scarcely 
 less, only it was tempered by greater 
 w^orldly wisdom. He believed it to be his 
 duty to his employer, however, to tell him 
 of this second episode of strife between an 
 Aspenel and a vagrant, and turned into 
 the Park instead of the Cottages. 
 
 He found Mr. Aspenel at home, and was 
 ushered into his sanctum — if a room dedi- 
 cated to Mammon can be called a sanctum. 
 He was, as usual, surrounded by bills — 
 always settling accounts. Gerard related
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 241 
 
 as briefly as he could what had occurred. 
 Mr. Aspenel turned livid, whether with 
 fear or rage Gerard kneAv not. 
 
 'Always haunting me! Prowling about! 
 My life isn't safe,' he muttered. ' Tom 
 Harton has just been here with a similar 
 story. Better keep it close. Don't let it 
 get abroad; but watch, watch. This is 
 what I say to Harton — watch.' 
 
 The words recalled to Gerard irresistibly 
 similar words in Holy Scripture, and the 
 association was painful to him. 
 
 ' If I knew who and why I sliould watch,* 
 he said, ' I should do so on your account, 
 sir ; but I cannot work in the dark.' 
 
 ' Those who work for me must do my 
 bidding. I can find plenty of willing 
 hands,' returned Mr. iVspenel. ' That man 
 is my enemy, and my life and property are 
 not safe. Return the shilling ! A spend- 
 thrift vagrant such as he ! That isn't 
 likely.' 
 
 * But he returned the purse. If he is a 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 RESTITUTION. 
 
 robber, and threatens your life, lie should 
 be brought to justice.' 
 
 ^No, no. We must get rid of him 
 secretly. I mean, send off the gipsies with 
 whom he has fraternised at present. They 
 shall go to prison if they don't obey the 
 laws, and they won't send their children to 
 school because they can't pay. I expect 
 they will all have decamped to-morrow 
 morning. Sunday is their day, because 
 they have nothing else to do — no fairs and 
 fortune-telling, no selling and buying. 
 What a lot of time we lose — and time is 
 money, you know — by this Sabbatarianism. 
 But we're getting enlightened by degrees.' 
 
 ' I thought you respected the Sabbath, 
 sir.' 
 
 ^ So I do ; of course I do. Only it comes 
 in the way of business. Many a stroke of 
 luck fails because the Stock Exchange and 
 the shipping offices and the General Post 
 Office are shut on Sundays.'
 
 AT THE ENCAMPMENT. 243 
 
 ' But the managers and the clerks want 
 rest, sir. The Day of Rest is a gracious 
 institution of the great Creator. Can I do 
 anything for you ?' 
 
 ' To-morrow, do you mean ? Certainly, 
 you can help me to get through this pile 
 of work. Noljody will be the wiser.' 
 
 ' I meant with regard to Wandering 
 Will.' 
 
 This name recalled Mr. Aspen el from a 
 momentary abstraction, and relieved Gerard 
 from a sudden terror. He was always in 
 fear lest his employer should want him to 
 work on Sunday, and he should lose his 
 situation by refusing. 
 
 ' Wandering Will ! Let him alone for 
 the present. He is probably on the railway 
 by this time. I wish he were ' 
 
 What he ^vished did not transpire ; for a 
 servant knocked at the door, and asked if 
 Mr. Tom Harton could see him for a few 
 minutes.
 
 244 EESTITUTION. 
 
 ' Certainly. Bring him in here,' replied 
 Mr. Aspenel, with alacrity ; and Gerard 
 withdrew, to be replaced by a more willing 
 slave.
 
 245 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 
 
 Fan was at her post in the Sunday-school 
 the following morning punctually at half- 
 past nine. She had asked Edith the 
 previous day to take her class, fearing that 
 the children of the decent cottagers would 
 rebel against learning with the gipsies. 
 She had also consulted Mr. Austen on her 
 plan of campaign, and he entered into it, 
 albeit doubtful as to the propriety of brib- 
 ing ' the young idea ' into religion by means 
 of bullseyes. 
 
 ' They wouldn't come without them,' 
 said Fan, and that argument was con- 
 clusive.
 
 246 EESTITUTION. 
 
 Certainly that very appetising tempta- 
 tion brouglit tlieni — rags, clean faces, bare 
 feet, and all. The other children looked 
 on in astonished consternation as Fan 
 marshalled her new class and placed them 
 around her. Mrs. Clarville, as superin- 
 tendent, bade them be good and quiet, and 
 Mr. Austen welcomed them kindly. They 
 were a shrewd lot of youngsters, and had 
 not roamed the world without picking up 
 bits of its wisdom ; but their hearts were 
 set on the loaves and fishes more than on 
 the instruction they were to receive, and 
 Fan knew this. 
 
 ' You shall each have a bullseye and a 
 lollipop and a halfpenny if you are good,' 
 she whispered, when she was sure no one 
 else was listening. ' But you must all 
 kneel down like the other children, and 
 listen to that lady and say '' Our Father" 
 after her.' 
 
 This when Mrs. Clarville opened the 
 school with prayer. The black-eyed and
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 247 
 
 wide-awake gipsies did as they were bid, 
 and knelt down by tbe form at which Fan 
 placed them ; but of the ' Our Father ' they 
 knew next to nothing. One, only, joined 
 in that prayer so free to all, with a proud 
 consciousness of superior knowledge. An- 
 other seemed to be acquainted with the 
 tune of the hymn that followed the prayer, 
 and hummed it amid the nods and re- 
 proofs of his companions. But these 
 juvenile wanderers Avere not ill-behaved. 
 Although their only education had been in 
 the cleverest way to beg, their manners 
 were superior to those of the ragged 
 classes generally. Two or three of them 
 had actually put on shoes, which Fan be- 
 lieved to be a concession on the part of 
 their parents not to be disregarded. They 
 had, indeed, been ' got up ' Avith some idea 
 of effect. When Fan placed the easiest 
 lesson-books she could find into their 
 hands, their thoughts again turned to the 
 promised sweets, and she had much diffi-
 
 248 RESTITUTION. 
 
 culty in keeping their attention alive. But 
 some of them were not quite ignorant of 
 letters, and declared their capability of 
 reading with much boldness. 
 
 ' That's big 0, and that's A, and that's 
 c, a, t — cat,' echoed through the school- 
 room ; and poor Fan found her task even 
 more difficult than she imagined. 
 
 She taught them the verse of a hymn ; 
 she told them a Bible story ; she amused 
 them, in short, until it was time for 
 church ; and then she kept them back 
 while the other children filed off, and 
 quietly presented them with the promised 
 dole. 
 
 ' Shall I make them go to church?' she 
 whispered to Mrs. Clarville. 
 
 ' Better not ; you have done enough for 
 one day,' replied that lady, passing the 
 class with an approving smile. 
 
 ' We'll go to school again to-morrow, we 
 will,' said the childreri, their mouths full 
 of bullseyes.
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 249 
 
 Fail marshalled them a little way down 
 the village in the direction of the common, 
 then watched them a moment as they 
 scam^Dcred off towards the encampment. 
 She did not see that her gift of halfpence 
 resulted in many games of pitch and toss, 
 as they slackened pace outside the village ; 
 nor hear their account of their various ex- 
 periences when they reached their vagrant 
 friends. 
 
 She was late for morning service, and 
 was met by a disapproving frown from 
 Tom. Mr. Harton, on the contrary, gave 
 her an inquiring glance, and she managed 
 to reply to it, unobserved by her enemy, 
 by whispering, ' They all came. They'll 
 go to-morrow.' After this she essayed to 
 be reverent and attentive, for she was 
 always occupied by a mental study and 
 imitation of Edith, who sat opposite her in 
 the chancel, and thought that, if she was 
 only as fair and gentle and well-behaved 
 as she, there would be no impediment in
 
 250 RESTITUTION. 
 
 the way of her getting to heaven. ' How 
 to get to heaven,' was as much one of her 
 problems, as how to serve her mother's 
 relatives, the gipsies. Mr. Austen would 
 make the abstruse subject clear on Sunday, 
 but Tom would cast many clouds over it 
 during the week^ aad assure her that she 
 was ^ too disobedient for anything.' 
 
 ' Am I disobedient, sir ?' Fan would say 
 to Mr. Harton, with angry tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Not to me, Fan ; but then you know 
 Tom is so good^ he would reply, with an 
 amused twinkle. 
 
 On this particular Sabbath she was 
 especially tried by this all-absorbing 
 question. She wanted to make all the 
 gipsies good, that they might not be ex- 
 cluded from this happy region, and her 
 thoughts wandered off from her mother, 
 Clorandy, to the ragged urchins she had 
 been seeking to reform. She wished she 
 had brought them to church ; she wished
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 251 
 
 she knew whether her mother were in 
 heaven ; she wondered if Tom would ever 
 get there ; she felt sure that Mr. Harton 
 and Jack would, because they were so 
 kind. Then she fell to thinking of other 
 members of the congregation, settling their 
 future according to their deserts, and 
 finally fixed her eyes and thoughts on Mr. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 No one in that sacred edifice was so 
 devout as he, except perhaps Tom. Mr. 
 Aspenel did precisely what Miss Vigors 
 told Fan she should do — kept his eyes on 
 his book, stood, knelt, and sat precisely at 
 the proper moment, and joined both in the 
 responses and singing. Fan had never 
 spoken to him in her life, but she had 
 watched him narrowly, and had heard 
 people talking of him every day. What 
 they said was certainly not in his favour, 
 and she sometimes fancied that he had a 
 queer way of looking up from his book 
 without uplifting his eyelids. All this
 
 252 RESTITUTION. 
 
 puzzled her, and, when the Tigress talked 
 of her ^ conwersion,' she wondered if Mr. 
 Aspenel was, after all, as good as the 
 Tigress. Of course Fan ought to have 
 been looking into her own soul instead of 
 the spiritual condition of her neighbours ; 
 but she had not been very carefully 
 educated, and her mind ran adrift. Does 
 yours ever run the same way, gentle 
 reader ? Are you ever guilty of speculat- 
 ing on the state of the soul of some son of 
 Mammon, or that of his richly-attired, 
 defiant-looking wife, or innocent daughter? 
 Then you will make excuses for Fan. 
 
 She made none for herself, for her mind 
 was in a constant state of turmoil about 
 her manifold sins of omission and commis- 
 sion, and, had it not been for Mrs. Clarville, 
 she would often have been in an un- 
 naturally depressed condition. She poured 
 out her troubles to her whenever she had 
 an opportunity, and was taught where 
 alone she could find the way to heaven
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 2/) 3 
 
 over which she was puzzling. Mrs. Clar- 
 ville never tired of pointing to the Scrip- 
 tures as the only certain guide. 
 
 It got abroad, somehow, that her son, 
 Gerard, was going to preach to the gipsies, 
 and, much to his annoyance, his congrega- 
 tion was increased by outsiders. Country 
 people taking their Sunday walk on the 
 common often tarried awhile to listen, but, 
 on this occasion, Tom Harton, Mrs. Aspenel, 
 and Edith, as well as three of the ladies of 
 the Cottages, stood on the outskirts of his 
 camp. His mother and Fan were at his 
 side, together with Miss Lilyton who was 
 always ready to lead the singing ; and 
 these interlopers, as Gerard considered 
 them, placed themselves in their vicinity. 
 
 ^ I had heard of your son's powers of 
 eloquence, and was curious to listen to 
 them,' said Mrs. Aspenel to Mrs. Clarville. 
 ' I hope we shall not be in the way.' 
 
 * Not in ours, but your presence may in- 
 terfere with the attention of the poor
 
 254 KESTITUTION. 
 
 people,' replied Mrs. Clarville. 'I hope 
 you won't make Gerard nervous.' 
 
 ^ Oh ! he always seems self-possessed,' 
 put in Tom Harton, with a sort of sneer. 
 
 If Gerard was nervous he did not show 
 it, and his more aristocratic audience must 
 have been disappointed if they expected 
 either a display of talent or a sermon. 
 Neither was forthcoming. He began his 
 little service by giving out one of Moody 
 and Sankey's hymns familiar to the gipsies, 
 and he and Miss Lilyton and Fan led it off. 
 Book in hand, he went in amongst them, 
 singing as he walked, and, as if reproached 
 by his presence, the men and children who 
 were lounging on the ground sprang 
 to their feet singing vigorously. The 
 women, always more piously disposed, 
 were already attentive, and stood about 
 with the Tigress as their centre. If you 
 take religion to the backslider, the fallen, 
 or the vagrant, they give you their atten- 
 tion sometimes out of politeness, sometimes
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 255 
 
 conviction ; and Gerard knew his people 
 and how to deal with them. 
 
 ' He is very shy,' whispered Fan to Mrs. 
 Clarville, as she perceived that he had no 
 intention of returning to their vicinity, but 
 placed himself at the other end of the en- 
 campment. 
 
 The gipsies followed him, and Tom 
 Harton and all the ladies were left a solitary 
 group. All but Fan, who was after him 
 like a shot. What people chose to call his 
 * sermon,' was simply a familiar address, 
 couched in such terms as his audience 
 could understand, and took the form of a 
 conversation. They responded, applauded, 
 or condemned according as their feelings 
 or consciences were aroused, and, as Gerard 
 was bold in the truth, he did not hesitate 
 to speak out. Mr. Austen had joined him 
 once or twice, but it was found that 'the 
 parson's choker' interfered with the success 
 of the work. The gipsies, like hosts of 
 other ne'er-do-weels, had a decided objec-
 
 256 KESTITUTION. 
 
 tion to the ' cloth.' Still, in the midst of 
 an entreaty that they would ' Seek the 
 Lord before it was too late, and let their 
 children learn of Him,' one man interrupted 
 by ' Then we must send 'em to the par- 
 son's school. No 'spectors there. Haven't 
 got no money, or mine should go for a 
 week or so. 'Tisn't conwenient to move on 
 just now.' 
 
 ' We'll have bullseyes and halfpence 
 there,' shouted the children. 
 
 ' Didn't I say that I was conwerted and 
 that they should go,' broke in the Tigress, 
 stamping her foot. ' Let the gentleman 
 go on with his preachment.' 
 
 She and Fan had been holding a whis- 
 pered conversation to the effect that Mr. 
 Harton was still willing to help with the 
 school-fees, which the Tigress concluded 
 with the mysterious words, ' And we must 
 stop here till we know that he who ran oiF 
 yesterday is safe.' 
 
 By this time the interlopers had cauti-
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL, 257 
 
 ously skirted the encampment, and were 
 standing near the speakers. Perceiving 
 this, Gerard gave out another hymn, and 
 even the cynical Tom and the high-spirited 
 Mrs. Aspenel were surprised at the volume 
 of song that succeeded. 
 
 ' I am trusting, Lord, in Thee, 
 Blessed Lamb of Calvary,' 
 
 rang out upon the autumnal air, and who 
 shall say which was the most impressed, 
 the millionaire's wife or the gipsy queen ? 
 Certain it is, that this and similar hymns 
 have a great effect on those classes which 
 can only be reached by a force external to 
 the regulated religious services of any sect 
 whatsoever. 
 
 A short but solemn prayer succeeded, 
 asking for the blessing of the Almighty on 
 the assembly, through that ' Lamb of 
 Calvary ' of whom they had sung. Most 
 of the faces were covered by the hands, 
 but such as came for curiosity saw a won- 
 
 VOL, I. s
 
 258 RESTITUTION. 
 
 derful sight. In the midst of a little 
 crowd, all standing, Mrs. Lee, the so-called 
 Tigress, was on her knees, her hands up- 
 lifted, her head bent low. Fan saw this, 
 and, with some uncontrollable impulse, 
 knelt down beside her. 
 
 ' That is the way to heaven,' said excited 
 Fan, when she rose. 
 
 ' Through the wilds, through the wilder- 
 ness ; in the tempest, in the calm ; under 
 the tent, under the sky ; that is the way, 
 and we will tread it,' shouted the Tigress, 
 making her way to Gerard and extending 
 her hand. ' You, none of you believe it, 
 but I'm conwerted. Henceforth I tell no 
 more fortunes, no more lies. I change my 
 life. Let us sing " Shall we gather at the 
 river r 
 
 Gerard was startled but not convinced. 
 He had seen many excited women at re- 
 vivals, and had discovered that the Tigress 
 was an actress as well as a fortune-teller ;
 
 THE GIPSIES AT SCHOOL. 259 
 
 still, he gave out the hymn she asked for, 
 and far away over the common and high 
 up in the air floated the words, ' River, 
 silver river.' 
 
 s2
 
 260 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A SHIP LOST. 
 
 Fan seemed to be the person most likely 
 to catch Wandering Will, if she chose. 
 That very Sunday evening she met him, 
 as she was returning alone from evening 
 service. 
 
 She was alone, because Mr. Harton did 
 not go to church of an evening, and 
 Tom was dining at the Park. Most of 
 her friends had remained behind for the 
 choir practice, superintended by Miss Lily- 
 ton and Gerard, but she felt singularly 
 restless, and thought she would go home 
 to her ever-sympathising benefactor. As
 
 A SHIP LOST. 261 
 
 she passed the big Board-school, which 
 was closed, she heard herself called from 
 the surrounding copse. 
 
 ' Fan !' 
 
 She was so accustomed to the name that 
 she did not pause to consider who uttered 
 it, but involuntarily answered, 
 
 ' Yes, who wants me ?' 
 
 ' I do,' was the reply, and she saw Wan- 
 dering Will's head protruded above the 
 hedge which divided the road from the 
 adjoining pine wood. She was not in the 
 least frightened, nor was she surprised at 
 the man's freedom ; indeed, nothing seemed 
 either to frighten or surprise her. 
 
 ' Hide yourself,' she whispered. * I'm 
 coming, so is somebody else,' for she heard 
 footsteps in the lane. 
 
 A countryman passed her with a ' Good- 
 night, Miss Fan,' to which she responded 
 by a ' Good-night, Hawkins,' and, having 
 waited till he was out of sight, she climbed 
 a neighbouring high gate, and joined
 
 262 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Wandering Will, who was in hiding 
 beneath the hedge. 
 
 ' Wliat do you want with me ?' she asked, 
 boldly, but in a suppressed voice. 
 
 ' I want to make your personal and 
 intimate acquaintance,' he replied. ' I 
 know you by repute ; I have seen you 
 at a distance ; 1 wish to meet you face to 
 face.' 
 
 'That will do you no good, and you will 
 be caught and imprisoned, if you don't 
 take care. They say the police are after 
 you,' she said. 
 
 • No fear ; I have a hundred lives, and 
 if, hydra-like, they take one, another will 
 replace it. A sort of transmigration. Fan. 
 I have already inhabited numerous taber- 
 nacles, and am perfect in the art of trans- 
 formation. I know the Avorld and its dis- 
 guises, Fan, having w^ell scoured it.' 
 
 ' You talk a deal of nonsense. One can 
 scour pots and pans, but not this dirty 
 earth. What do you want with me?'
 
 A SHIP LOST. 263 
 
 ' I want you to keep an eye on that 
 electric eel, Tom Harton.' 
 
 ' I always have. That's only tit for tat, 
 because he keeps an eye on me.' 
 
 * But I want you to find out and tell me 
 all you can about Aspenel, the so-called 
 squire, through Tom Harton, who we will 
 call the electric eel.' 
 
 'Why must I do this, Mr. Wandering 
 Will?' 
 
 ' Because you are one of us, and I knew 
 your mother, Clorandy, and I promised 
 her, when she died, never to lose sight of 
 you.' 
 
 ' Then you have broken your promise ; 
 for she died when I was seven, and now I 
 am nearly seventeen. The Tigress told me 
 all about it.' 
 
 'And, when I was in foreign parts, she 
 kept me informed of you, from time to 
 time, when the tribe pitched their tents 
 on Hoplands Common. I have not lost 
 sight of you. Fan, and never shall.'
 
 264 RESTITUTION. 
 
 'That's a story; for you could not see 
 me when you were in other parts of the 
 world. I suppose you mean you heard of 
 me.' 
 
 * Yes. You are sharp, Fan. You and I 
 could make a fortune together. You are 
 bolder, braver, handsomer even than your 
 mother, Clorandy. I have always been on 
 the point of making a fortune, but my fate 
 has interfered. Aspenel has not half my 
 talent or education, and see how rich he 
 
 IS. 
 
 ' But I would rather be you than he. 
 You are free, and he is afraid of his 
 shadow.' 
 
 'Afraid of me ! Well said, Fan. I am 
 his shadow, and will follow him whereso- 
 ever he goeth. In spite of his plots and 
 his millions, I will be after him ; and, if 
 you will help me, have the best of it. 
 Gather up stores of honey against you see 
 me. It may be in a month ; it may be in 
 a year; but we shall meet again. Re-
 
 A SHIP LOST. 265 
 
 member, child, that, if you tire of the life 
 you lead, and if the electric eel annoys 
 3^ou beyond your endurance, you can come 
 to me. You belong to us. You are more 
 mine than Mr. Harton's, though he has 
 done better for you than I have. Perhaps 
 I will tell you more when we meet again. 
 My stars have been against me all my life, 
 so says the Tigress.' 
 
 It was getting dark, and Fan knew that 
 she ought to be in doors ; but the fascina- 
 tion of this man held her. His voice and 
 manner were those of a gentleman, his ap- 
 pearance of a vagrant. Was he mad or 
 sane ? She would ask him in Mr. Harton's 
 words. 
 
 *Are 3^ou knave or fool?' she said. 
 
 ' Both, Fan,' he replied ; and face and 
 manner grew stern. 'But I am not mad. 
 I am as sane as my enemy, Aspenel. Go.' 
 
 He waved his hand towards the gate, 
 and himself vanished into the wood. She 
 stood to look after him. The moon was
 
 266 RESTITUTION. 
 
 careering amid the clouds above ; the 
 breeze was moving the trees around ; 
 shadows lay thick and heavy everywhere. 
 
 * Strange ! — what can he mean ?' she 
 muttered, when she had seen the last of 
 him, and was turning, slowly, towards the 
 gate. 
 
 ' What are you doing there, Fan ?' came 
 in a severe voice from the road. 
 
 It was Tom returning from the Park. 
 
 ' Gipsying, Mr. Tom,' she said, climbing 
 the gate and running off down the road 
 as fast as she could. 
 
 He had the curiosity to examine the 
 spot, and saw other footprints than Fan's 
 on the dew-bespangled turf Doubtless 
 he drew his conclusions, but they were 
 not the right ones. Fan was home long 
 before him, and had much difficulty in 
 evading Mr. Harton's inquiries concerning 
 her prolonged absence. But he soon re- 
 verted to what he called his ' tussle with
 
 A SHIP LOST. 267 
 
 the squire,' which enabled Fan to enlarge 
 on her gipsy-class and the camp-meeting. 
 
 'You must pay the school-fees, Fan,' 
 he said, laughing. ' I shall make you my 
 scapegoat. But I don't promise to provide 
 the bullseyes and coppers.' 
 
 ' I wish we were a better race !' sighed 
 Fan. 
 
 ' You may be made so by Act of Par- 
 liament, Fan. We are going to provide 
 education for the world on wheels, and all 
 the vans and travelling villages, and, I 
 take it, the very menageries that roll from 
 place to place, will be taught their duty to 
 their neighbour. I hope the lions will 
 then conscientiously abstain from laying a 
 paw on their keepers, and the tigers Avon't 
 look hungrily at the outside multitude.' 
 
 ' Oh ! sir, but then the gipsies will be 
 like everybody else, and that would be a 
 pity.' 
 
 ' The result of education. Fan. Your
 
 268 KESTITUTION. 
 
 friend Clarville thinks we should be all 
 alike, and nothing but preaching will make 
 us resemble one another.' 
 
 ' He wants to convert us, sir,' said Fan, 
 solemnly. 
 
 Here Tom came in and Fan escaped, 
 leaving that worthy to give his father the 
 history of the footprints on the dewy grass. 
 Mr. Harton only laughed and shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 The following morning the juvenile gip- 
 sies came to school, and when Mr. Aspenel 
 was driving to the station he met some of 
 them en route. His suspicions were excited ; 
 but then people of suspicious temperament 
 always have their suspicions excited about 
 something or other ; and a very unhappy 
 state of mind it is — a state to be religiously 
 shunned. Instead of shunning it, however, 
 he fostered it, and during his short drive 
 to the station he was wondering what mis- 
 chief the gipsies, and particularly Wan- 
 dering Will, were brewing. Gerard was
 
 A SHIP LOST. 269 
 
 waiting for the train, and he bade him 
 come into his compartment. If Fan was 
 Mr. Harton's scapegoat, Gerard was cer- 
 tainly Mr. Aspenel's, only Fan incurred 
 no expense, whereas poor Gerard did. It 
 never occurred to Mr. Aspenel that he 
 deemed it his duty to pay the difference 
 between his third-class ticket and the first- 
 class which did him the honour of receivinor 
 him at the squire's command. 
 
 ' What are the gipsies up to ?' he asked^ 
 as soon as they were seated. ' I saw a 
 lot of shameless children near the Board- 
 school.' 
 
 ' I fancy they are obeying the inspector's 
 orders, and going to school as long as they 
 remain on Hoplands Common,' returned 
 Gerard. 
 
 ' Then Wanderino^ Will is sure to be 
 about. Is this the result of your snivel- 
 ling and preaching, Mr. Clarville ?' 
 
 ' I fear not. I wish I could think any- 
 thing I said bore such good fruit. They
 
 270 EESTITUTION. 
 
 are going to school, because it is conve- 
 nient to them to remain on the common, 
 and they say everybody except Mr. Harton 
 hunts them off his land.' 
 
 ' Quite right too. Harton is an ass. 
 They ought to be exterminated root and 
 branch. But for them, my life wouldn't 
 be in danger.' 
 
 ' But, sir, you have the law in your own 
 hands. If you set the police after that 
 man, they could catch him easily. I saw 
 him attacking you — Mrs. Aspenel's purse 
 was seized by him — we should both recog- 
 nise him. I knew him when I rescued your 
 son from him. It seems that he should be 
 prosecuted in the interests of justice.' 
 
 ' I know my own affairs best, Mr. Clar- 
 ville. I don't want the fellow shut up, but 
 I want him kept at a distance.' 
 
 Gerard was silent, and Aspenel's face 
 wore an ominous frown. They were tete- 
 ^-iete^ for early travellers by first-class were
 
 A SHIP LOST. 271 
 
 rare from Roselands station. To Gerard's 
 relief, a lady got in at the next station. It 
 was Lady Ascham. She bowed to Mr. 
 Aspenel, whose frown vanished, and whose 
 company manners returned. 
 
 ' I have been staying at Beechton from 
 Saturday to Monday,' she said. ' I had not 
 a moment to drive over and see Mrs. As- 
 penel. How is she? She knows how busy 
 I am, and will excuse me. Is that your 
 son ? Oh ! I beg your pardon, I see he is 
 too old ; but I seem to recognise him. May 
 I ask ' 
 
 * It is Mr. Clarville, one of my employes' 
 said Aspenel, with a sort of half-introduc- 
 tory, half-patronising manner. 
 
 ' Mr. Gerard Clarville ! I am so glad 
 to meet you,' said Lady Ascham, stretching 
 forward and holding out her hand. ' I 
 knew your mother years ago, and should 
 much like to see her again. But I have no 
 time even for old friends, as Mr. Aspenel
 
 272 RESTITUTION. 
 
 knows. You too will understand, for I 
 hear you are engaged in charitable pur- 
 suits. Somebody told Lady Beechton that 
 you were interested in the gipsies, and so 
 am I. We must have them brought under 
 instruction by Act of Parliament, like the 
 riverside population. Will you call on 
 me ? Any evening after nine — or perhaps 
 you will come to dinner. Here is my 
 card. We could work together in many 
 ways ; but I am quite unconventional.' 
 
 ' His time is mine, Lady Ascham. It 
 does not benefit young men to take them 
 out of their sphere of labour,' put in Mr. 
 Aspenel, ominously. 
 
 ' Certainly not, Mr. Aspenel; but natur- 
 ally his evenings are his own. I may 
 reckon on seeing you, Mr. Clarville ?' 
 
 Gerard could not help smiling, though 
 he felt that the plot was thickening round 
 him ; and that he would have to be cautious 
 if he meant to keep his situation. 
 
 ^ I shall be very glad to call, Lady As-
 
 A SHIP LOST. 273 
 
 cliam; but my time is pretty well filled up/ 
 he replied, diplomatically. ^ It belongs, 
 indeed, to Mr. Aspenel.' 
 
 An approving smile passed over the 
 millionaire's face, not unperceived by Lady 
 Ascham, who glanced at Gerard. She 
 wondered if he were a time-server, but his 
 eyes were honest, and his countenance 
 impressed her favourably. He looked, 
 indeed, singularly straightforward. She 
 saw that he might have a difficult part to 
 play. 
 
 • I shall expect you some evening. Come 
 Avhen you can manage it,' she said. Then, 
 without waiting Gerard's thanks, she 
 turned to Mr. Aspenel, with, 'How does 
 your daughter Janet get on with my old 
 friends. Monsieur and Madame de Belle- 
 ville ?' 
 
 'Very well, I believe,' replied Mr. As- 
 penel, busying himself with his bag, for he 
 had never inquired. 
 
 They reached Charing Cross, where Lady 
 
 VOL. L T
 
 274 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Ascham got out. She shook hands with 
 both gentlemen, and said, aside to Gerard, 
 ^ Don't forget.' They proceeded to London 
 Bridge, whence they went in a cab to the 
 office. 
 
 Gerard had scarcely settled to his work 
 when an office-boy summoned him to Mr. 
 Aspenel. He found him seated at his 
 table with an open telegram before him. 
 His face was white, and he was trembling 
 either with passion or terror. He pointed 
 to the telegram, which was from South 
 America, and announced the loss of one of 
 Mr. Aspenel's largest ships. ' Crew saved 
 — cargo sunk,' were the last Avords, and 
 Gerard involuntarily uttered a cry of 
 thankfulness that, though the freight of 
 gold which the vessel bore was lost, the 
 souls of men were saved. Mr. Aspenel 
 clenched his fist and struck the table, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 ' You rejoice in my ruin, sir ! Your own 
 ruin ! Our ruin ! A shipload of gold at the
 
 A SHIP LOST. 275 
 
 bottom of tlie sea. Do you know what 
 that means T 
 
 *Yes, sir, but ' 
 
 ' Come with me to the Stock Exchange ; 
 call Mason. Grant, Leslie, Brown — no ; I'll 
 cable back at once. If you had gone out 
 to Chili, as I wished, you might have 
 averted this, if ' 
 
 Aspenel sank back in his chair, and 
 Gerard witnessed the awful power of gold. 
 He grew livid, and gasped as if he were 
 dying. Gerard unfastened his neckerchief, 
 gave him water, and stood by while he 
 recovered himself, not daring to speak to 
 one who would resent any word he should 
 utter. 
 
 The offices were soon all astir with the 
 news, and, although the clerks knew well 
 enough that a loss which might ruin a 
 poorer man would scarcely be felt by Mr. 
 Aspenel, they doubted if they might not 
 be dismissed upon plea of it. 
 
 ' Hundreds of thousands !' was the mil- 
 
 t2
 
 276 EESTITUTION. 
 
 lionaire's cry, as he tore open several 
 other letters and documents that lay be- 
 fore him. One of these contained the 
 ominous words, 
 
 ' / must have money ^ — W. L/ 
 
 With a muttered imprecation he thrust 
 this into a drawer, turned the key, and 
 again summoned Gerard, whom he had 
 dismissed. He asked him if he would go 
 for him to a certain small street leading 
 down to the Thames, and inquire if a Mr. 
 Loveridge had been there lately. 
 
 ^ [ can only beg a confidential person 
 to do this, for it is important,' he said, giv- 
 ing him an address. 
 
 ' Wharf Court. I know it,' said Gerard, 
 whose habit it was to thread all sorts of 
 courts and alleys, and he liked nothing 
 better. 
 
 But as he left his patron, and soon 
 found himself engaged in this congenial 
 occupation, he began to wonder whether 
 he was being made a catspaw of How-
 
 A SHIP LOST. 277 
 
 ever, lie ^ot involved in a labyrinth, and 
 forgot everything but how best to thread 
 it. Down narrow streets, under arches, 
 through crowded courts, past huge ware- 
 houses, into densely-peopled alleys, and 
 finally within a small space surrounded by 
 high, dirty, squalid houses, — and this was 
 "Wharf Court. 
 
 He knocked at a dingy door, and in- 
 quired if Mr. Loveridge were Avithin. 
 
 A suspicious-looking man, who eyed 
 him askance through the half-opened door, 
 said, 
 
 * No, he isn't ; but he will be about ten 
 o'clock to-night.' 
 
 ' If I should come again, could I see 
 him?' asked Gerard. 
 
 * That's more'n I can tell,' was the surly 
 reply. 
 
 Gerard reported the result of his visit to 
 Mr. Aspenel, whom he found almost as he 
 had left him, seated grim and deep in 
 thought.
 
 278 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ' Would you mind going again at ten 
 o'clock?' asked Mr. Aspenel, in a hoarse, 
 despondent voice. 
 
 ' Not if I can be of use — and — and — it is 
 a righteous cause,' replied Gerard. 
 
 *Whatdoyou mean, sir ?' shouted Mr. 
 Aspenel, roused from his lethargy. 
 
 ' That it is a queer place to go to at that 
 hour,' said Gerard ; ' and one would almost 
 need the escort of a policeman.' 
 
 ^ You needn't be afraid. I owe the man 
 Loveridge money, and I want to get it 
 safely conveyed to him. You shall be no 
 loser if you will take it to him.' 
 
 'I want no gain, sir. But I will do 
 what you ask.' 
 
 ' Then come to me before I leave. Now 
 I must see about this loss. A hundred 
 thousand pounds !' 
 
 Mr. Aspenel covered his face with his 
 hands, and so Gerard left him.
 
 279 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 * A KUINED man/ 
 
 Gerard was in Wharf Court punctually at 
 ten p.m. He had left his watch and chain 
 and his seal ring at his lodging, and had 
 hidden the envelope directed to Mr. Love- 
 ridge carefully between his waistcoat and 
 shirt. The court was truly a shady and 
 retired spot, and, unlike many a similar 
 one that he had visited, was strangely 
 quiet. A solitary lamp blinked at him as 
 he entered, and lights dimly burst here 
 and there in the houses, just making the 
 darkness visible. As to the moon, she 
 never looked beyond the roofs and chim- 
 neys of Wharf Court, and not a ray of her
 
 280 EESTITUTION. 
 
 heavenly light ever penetrated to its pave- 
 ment. As he approached the house he 
 had visited in the morning, he saw a man 
 lounging against the wall, smoking his pipe. 
 He could not discern his face even when 
 quite near him, but the voice seemed 
 familiar. He spoke first. 
 
 ' You come from Mr. Aspenel. I hear 
 he has lost a ship,' he said, and Gerard 
 wondered how the news could have already- 
 reached Wharf Court. 
 
 ' Your name ?' asked Gerard. 
 
 ' Loveridge. If the rich miser has given 
 you a dole, 'tis for the poor spendthrift 
 before you.' 
 
 'How am I to know ?' asked Gerard. 
 
 ' By this sign,' replied the man, removing 
 the pipe from his mouth, and taking a dry 
 piece of paper from his pocket. ' I have 
 written my receipt, for I expected you, 
 and the pass-word is " Never again." ' 
 
 Gerard took the envelope from its hiding- 
 place, and gave it to him. He opened it,
 
 A RUINED MAN. 281 
 
 struck a match, and examined the con- 
 tents. 
 
 ' This will do for the present, but I 
 must be paid up,' he said. ' I wonder he 
 ventured to send you. He must have 
 either a very good or a very bad oj^inion of 
 you. You'd better be off as quick as you 
 can, for Wharf Court isn't the safest place 
 in the world about midnight. The police 
 would rather come here in couples than 
 singly.' 
 
 ' Then why are you here?' asked Gerard, 
 boldly. 'You don't belong to the class 
 that frequents these parts.' 
 
 ' I'm a nob amongst 'em ; but between 
 ourselves, I belong to no particular class. 
 I'm Al to-day, and the dregs of society to- 
 morrow. There are many like me. Take 
 care you don't come down to our level.' 
 
 ' Have we ever met before ?' asked 
 Gerard. 
 
 ' I shouldn't wonder if we had, for I've a 
 large acquaintance. More know W. Love-
 
 282 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ridge than W. Loveridge knows. Good- 
 night. My compliments to the miser.' 
 
 He opened the house-door and went in, 
 leaving Gerard to make his way back to his 
 lodging. 
 
 While this was passing in Wharf Court, 
 a very different scene was enacting at 
 Aspenel Park. Its master did not return 
 till late, and, naturally, dinner had been 
 kept waiting. Mrs. Aspenel and Edith 
 were waiting also, so was the establishment. 
 When a punctual man is two or three hours 
 behind time, it would seem that the whole 
 world is at a standstill. 
 
 ' Some accident must have happened. 
 We hear of such awful ones !' said trem- 
 bling Edith. 
 
 ' Nothing ever happens to Mr. Aspenel 
 but loss of money,' returned Mrs. Aspenel, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 Her words were soon verified, for the 
 husband of whom she spoke arrived with
 
 A RUINED MAN. 283 
 
 blanched face, and the news that he was a 
 ruined man. He spoke so confidently that 
 even his wife's incredulity was staggered. 
 However, dinner was served immediately, 
 and no further allusion was made to money 
 matters until the servants left the dinino^- 
 room. Then Mr. Aspenel, usually so secre- 
 tive, poured out his grievances. While 
 doing so he drank freely. Whether he 
 believed himself ruined or not, his listeners 
 could not discover; but his wife, at least, 
 did not believe it. She knew enough of 
 his wealth to be convinced that the loss of 
 one ship, however valuable, could scarcely 
 lessen its enormous bulk. But, perceiving 
 that he was in an unnatural state of ex- 
 citement, she bridled her sarcastic tongue^ 
 and did her best to calm him. 
 
 ' I daresay it will all come right,' she 
 said, soothingly. 
 
 ' That is what you women always say. 
 Come right! Would you like to be
 
 '284 KESTITUTION. 
 
 obliged to give up the Park, and to retire 
 to an obscure lodging? Would you call 
 that coming right ?' 
 
 ' Certainly not. But we have not 
 arrived at that pass. I daresay you will 
 easily get over this loss.' 
 
 ' This loss ! It is the forerunner of utter 
 ruin, I tell you, Mrs. Aspenel. You must 
 all set to Avork to retrench. You must 
 draw in your expenses, reduce the number 
 of servants, keep no company.' 
 
 'We can scarcely reduce the latter item,' 
 interrupted Mrs. Aspenel, who could not 
 restrain a mocking laugh. ' Our stock- 
 in-trade consists of the old ladies, the 
 rector, Mr. Tom Harton, and occasionally 
 Gerard Clarville. Seriously, Mr. Aspenel, 
 we must give a dinner-party, if not a 
 ball.' 
 
 'A ball! And I have just lost a hun- 
 dred thousand pounds — a hundred thou- 
 sand pounds, I say.' 
 
 ' A large sum, yet only the tenth of a
 
 A RUINED MAN. 285- 
 
 million. Edith will be eighteen in a few 
 weeks, and must come out.' 
 
 *I would rather remain just as I am/ 
 put in Edith, quietly. ' You need give no 
 dinner-party or ball on my account, papa. 
 What was the name of the vessel?' 
 
 ' The vessel ? The Aspcnel. One of 
 the largest in the world. Only surpassed 
 by the Great Eastern. An ironclad war- 
 ranted to breast every storm. I would 
 have wagered her against all the gold of 
 the Australian mines. And she is lost — 
 sunk — gone to the bottom with a cargo of 
 gold.' 
 
 ^ There are better things than gold, papa,'' 
 said Edith, hesitating. 
 
 ' What ?' thundered her father. 
 
 ' Love. God's love — our love.' 
 
 He looked at her keenly for a moment, 
 then rose and left the room. 
 
 ' What have I said — what have I done ?' 
 she asked, appealing first to his vacant 
 chair, then to her step-mother.
 
 286 EESTITUTION. 
 
 ' Done us out of a little gaiety, probably. 
 Your father is somewhat excited at this loss, 
 which can only be a drop from the ocean 
 of his riches. I hope it will do him good,' 
 replied Mrs. Aspenel, philosophically. 
 
 ' I must follow him. He looked almost 
 beside himself 
 
 ' You are mistaken. He knows perfectly 
 well what he is about.' 
 
 But Edith went to her father's business- 
 room and listened at the door. She heard 
 the customar}^ rustle of papers, and open- 
 ing and closing of drawers, and did not 
 venture further. She ran upstairs to 
 Nurse True, and detailed to her what she 
 had already heard from others of the 
 servants. Edith, happily for her, believed 
 in her father's truthfulness, and did not 
 doubt that the ruin he foretold was really 
 imminent. 
 
 ' You need not be alarmed, lovey,' said 
 Nurse True. * I daresay Mr. Aspenel is 
 troubled at his loss ; but they say he is so
 
 A RUINED MAN. 287 
 
 ricli that he won't really feel it. Money- 
 is a burden grievous to be borne, yet none 
 of us care to lay it down.' 
 
 'And what use is it? Oh, Nurse True, 
 what is it doing for any of us ?' 
 
 ' Nothing, my deary. Like seed, its only 
 use is when sown and scattered. You 
 must help to mind Mr. Aspenel of this.' 
 
 Edith ran back to wish her step-mother 
 good-night. A kinder feeling had sprung 
 up between them during Janet's length- 
 ened absence, and comparative calm in 
 school-room and nursery had penetrated 
 even to Mr. Aspenel, who agreed with his 
 wife that Janet's holidays were well spent 
 in perfecting her education in Paris. 
 
 Mr. Aspenel did not go to bed that 
 night. This was all that was known of 
 him by the outer world. He apx3eared at 
 breakfast the following morning, but was 
 so absorbed by his loss, and the telegraphic 
 report of it in the Times^ that he spoke 
 even less than he generally did. He looked
 
 288 RESTITUTION. 
 
 haggard, and his personal appearance was 
 less spruce than usual. He volunteered 
 one question, howcA'er, and that was as 
 to whether anything had been heard of 
 the gipsies. His wife answered it. 
 
 ' Mr. Tom Harton says they are settling 
 down again, and that the children have 
 actually been to school. He thinks the 
 Clarvilles have influenced them, and says 
 his father will not allow them to be mo- 
 lested so long as they keep the law.' 
 
 ' Old Harton shall pay for this,' mut- 
 tered Aspenel. ' As to Mrs. Clarville and 
 Gerard, they are absolute fools.' 
 
 Edith longed to say a word in their 
 favour, but forbore. She had, since her 
 admission to the breakfast-table, been in 
 the habit of quietly helping her father to 
 collect and tie up his various papers, and 
 to place them in the black bag awaiting 
 them. She was the first person whom he 
 had ever allowed to meddle with his docu- 
 ments, but she managed so unostentati-
 
 A RUINED MAN. 289 
 
 ously that he was scarcely conscious of her 
 interference. On this occasion, he per- 
 mitted her to arrange the whole matter ; 
 for, after the brief interlude of the gipsies, 
 he fell into a state of abstraction, and for- 
 got the necessity of having the black bag 
 ready by the time the carriage was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 * I think it is all right, papa,' she said, 
 timidly, when he was aroused by, ' Carriage 
 at the door, sir.' 
 
 'Thank you, Edith,' he said, and his 
 voice trembled. 
 
 The words rang gladly in her ears the 
 whole day; and, incongruous as it may 
 seem, Mrs. Aspenel resented them. He 
 rarely thanked her for anything, but then 
 she seldom volunteered to do anything for 
 him. ' She was tired of trying,' she said 
 to herself, wearily. 
 
 And she was weary — weary of her life. 
 Yet she had chosen it: sold herself for 
 gold; that idol which had sunk with the 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 RESTITUTION. 
 
 steamer — her husband's idol ! Indeed, 
 her life seemed a burden to her, and but 
 for Bruce, she sometmies thought, she 
 would gladly have ' cast off this mortal 
 coil.' She thought little of the sacredness 
 of life, less of its responsibilities. She 
 was content if her wearisome days wore 
 through without accident, and if their 
 monotony was broken by an occasional 
 guest or morning-caller. She welcomed 
 the advent of Tom Harton, because he 
 was not only a man of education, but 
 good-looking and agreeable. Few days 
 passed that she did not invite him to her 
 presence, after he had finished his morn- 
 ings with Bruce ; and luncheon was the 
 inevitable consequence. Bruce behaved 
 so well at that meal when Harton was 
 there, that his mother and Edith were 
 only too glad to have him kept in order. 
 Thus the tutor grew into the friend. Mrs. 
 Aspenel did not consider that she was 
 throwing temptation in Edith's path, or
 
 A RUINED MAN. 291 
 
 imagine that the devotion paid to her 
 might have an ulterior object. As to Mr. 
 Aspenel, he suited him so well that he 
 never complained of his presence. 
 
 He chanced to be at the station when 
 Mr. Aspenel reached it — /.(?., it was pre- 
 meditated chance which brought him there. 
 He had a few words to say, which were for 
 Mr. Aspenel's ear alone. 
 
 ' I have every reason to believe that 
 Wandering Will was in this neighbour- 
 hood on Sunday evening,' he began. ' He 
 was tampering with my father's gipsy 
 protegee^ or I am greatly mistaken. I have 
 been sounding her, but can make nothing 
 of her, except through her inadvertent ad- 
 missions, which tend to show that it was 
 he to whom she was talking in the copse, 
 when I saw her near the gate by the school 
 house. I have been several times to the 
 encampment since, but have not caught 
 sight of him.' 
 
 ' Have you heard of my loss ? I am a 
 
 u '1
 
 292 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ruined man !' interrupted Mr. Aspenel, the 
 remembrance of his gold overmastering 
 fear. 
 
 *]Sfo ! What can you mean, Mr. Aspenel T 
 exclaimed Tom Harton, with genuine 
 alarm. 
 
 But up steamed the train, and there was 
 no time for an answer. He saw Mr. 
 Aspenel in, shut the door of his compart- 
 ment, and turned towards the Park. 
 
 ' A ruined man ! Impossible,' he repeated, 
 as he walked meditatively along the bright 
 country road, not heeding the carpet of 
 red and brown leaves spread by the trees 
 that overhung the Park wall. 
 
 He turned into the gates opposite the 
 Cottages, and in doing so was arrested by a 
 voice. It was Miss Short, who was taking 
 her constitutional, and who, seeing him in 
 the distance, hurried after him. She was 
 panting and puffing from the exertion. 
 
 ' Is it true, Mr. Tom, that Mr. Aspenel 
 has lost everything he possesses, and that
 
 A RUINED MAN. 293 
 
 the Park will be sold, and we shall all be 
 ruined together?' she said, pausing at 
 every three words. 
 
 ' I hope not, Miss Short. But Mr. 
 Aspenel, himself, says so,' replied Tom, 
 hastening on to avoid further questions. 
 
 ' There must be something in it,' he 
 thought, as he walked up the drive, and 
 then made a detour to throw a piece of 
 bread to Edith's swans. 
 
 He was in the habit of telling her that 
 he fed them regularly, and, at sight of him, 
 they sailed majestically towards him, their 
 snow-white plumage gleaming beneath the 
 morning sunshine. In his poetical moods 
 — and he was no mean poet — he was wont 
 to write sonnets to Edith and. her swans. 
 However, he left them hastily, and went 
 on to the house, gleaming, like the swans, 
 in the sunlight. 
 
 He was early, therefore unexpected quite 
 ^o soon. Bruce had been naughty, and 
 he found Mrs. Aspenel and Edith with
 
 294 KESTITUTION. 
 
 him, endeavouring to soothe him into pro- 
 priety. Harton's presence effected this. 
 The boy grew in a moment smooth as satin, 
 smothering sobs and drying tears with 
 wonderful self-control. 
 
 ' How can you manage him T whispered 
 Mrs. Aspenel, aside. 
 
 ' By the law of obedience,' he whispered 
 back. 
 
 'Have you heard of Mr. Aspenel's loss?' 
 she asked. 
 
 ' I have seen him,' he replied. 
 
 ' And what did he say ?' 
 
 ' That he was ruined.' 
 
 ' How absurd. He has only lost a valu- 
 able ship and cargo. Bad enough, I dare- 
 say ; but not ruin. What with this craze 
 about the gipsies, and constant complaints 
 of losses and crosses, one is driven out of 
 one's senses. You will stay to luncheon, 
 and we can talk it over.' 
 
 ' Thank you. I shall be only too glad.'
 
 A RUINED MAN. 295 
 
 While this was passing, Bruce whispered 
 to Edith, 
 
 ' If papa is ruined, he can't keep a school- 
 master, and you shall teach me again/ 
 
 It was curious how the flames spread. 
 Before Mr. Aspenel returned that evening, 
 it was currently reported in Roselands 
 and the immediate neighbourhood that 
 Aspenel Park was likely to be sold, and 
 people speculated as to whether a new 
 owner might be better than the old. 
 
 ' Can't be worse,' was the fiat, ' but I'm 
 sorry for the young ladies.' 
 
 And so Mr. Aspenel's own words were 
 the key-note to a more than seven-days' 
 gossip.
 
 296 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 JANET AT LAST. 
 
 All the details of home life at Aspenel 
 Park reached Janet at school, in the shape 
 of a diary written by Edith, who rarely 
 retired to rest without detailing the events 
 of the day. This was despatched once a 
 week, and never failed to arrive on Satur- 
 day morning. Janet was less regular, 
 because, she said, she had less of mutual 
 interest to communicate ; but really be- 
 cause she had less time at her own disposal, 
 and was more carried away by her sur- 
 roundings. The account of Mr. Aspenel's 
 losses and crosses were written by Edith 
 for Janet's edification, and, though they
 
 JANET AT LAST. 297 
 
 were slightly modified the day after our 
 winding up in the last chapter, Janet, when 
 she had read her diary, became quite con- 
 vinced that ruin was staring her in the 
 face. Being a highly impressionable girl, 
 she rushed with her documents to Madame 
 de Belleville, and burst into a passion of 
 tears. 
 
 'Edith says Mr. Aspenel is ruined, 
 niadame,' she cried, throwing her arms 
 round this friend, to Avhom she was en- 
 tirely devoted. 
 
 ' Oh ! I am sorry ; but that cannot be, 
 assuredly,' said madame, patting her on 
 the cheek. 'And, if it is so, you know you 
 desire nothing better than to work for your 
 own bread.' 
 
 ' But what will Edith and Nurse True 
 do if cast upon the world ? and Mrs. As- 
 penel and Bruce ? I cannot work for 
 all.' 
 
 ' I think that you have not need to dis- 
 tress yourself. I daresay your sister, in
 
 298 RESTITUTION. 
 
 her fear, has exaggerated matters. On dit 
 that your father is immensely rich.' 
 
 ' But if his ships have been wrecked, and 
 his money lost, he must be ruined, as Edith 
 says.' 
 
 'And even then, my dear Janet, your 
 desires will be gratified. You will have 
 your wish, and work for your living.' 
 
 It was one thing to imagine a life of 
 labour, and another to face it. Youth is 
 sanguine and fancies all things ; but when 
 the reality arrives fancy fades. Madame 
 was very fond of Janet, and, by opening 
 her almost maternal arms, received bound- 
 less aifection in return. Youth is also, or 
 should be, trustful; but Janet had been 
 bred so entirely in the region of uncer- 
 tainty that she was doubtful of everything 
 save of the love of Edith and Nurse True. 
 Her father was always on the eve of ruin, 
 her step-mother ever mistrustful, and her 
 one prevailing idea was to help herself. 
 
 She had confided this to madame, and
 
 JANET AT LAST. 299 
 
 during the two years she had been with 
 her she had worked energetically, particu- 
 larly at painting. Madame could never 
 understand why she remained with her 
 during the holidays, though Janet failed 
 not to assure her that it was the fault of 
 her step-mother, for whom she had a cordial 
 dislike. 
 
 ' Has Mr. Aspen el paid you, madame,' 
 asked Janet. ' If he has not, you must 
 take me as a pupil-teacher till I am fit for 
 something. I will work for you and mon- 
 sieur with all my might. Mr. Bellamy 
 thinks I have a talent for painting ; mon- 
 sieur says my French is nearly perfect ; 
 Herr Pauer declares I shall never make 
 anything of German ; my music is detest- 
 able, and I hate everything ancient ; and 
 Miss Lawrence is always complaining of 
 my general requirements. What can I do, 
 dear madam e ?' 
 
 'In the first place, let me tell you that I 
 have been regularly paid to the last sou.
 
 300 EESTITUTION. 
 
 There was, indeed, one penny in the last 
 account, and monsieur your father sent me 
 one stamp for it. We will wait till Christ- 
 mas, which will soon be here, till we 
 commence the pupil-teacher. Now calm 
 yourself, and we will adjourn to the class- 
 room. What will the young ladies think 
 of your red eyes ?' 
 
 ' What matters, dear madame, if we are 
 ruined ? Nobody cares whether poor 
 people have red eyes or not. But, while 
 you are rich, it is important to keep your 
 looks. I daresay my nose is also red.' 
 
 This fortunate change of conversation 
 turned the current of Janet's thoughts. 
 She looked in the glass, and was so horrified 
 at the effect of eyes and nose that she for- 
 got the impending ruin. She clasped her 
 hands, shrugged her shoulders, and burst 
 out laughing. She was more French than 
 English, to judge from her attitudes ; in- 
 deed, she loved Paris and the French so 
 dearly that she slightly afi'ected Parisian
 
 JANET AT LAST. 301 
 
 manners. The language she had quite 
 mastered. Not that she was aiFected, in 
 the generally received acceptation of the 
 word, but she was imitative, and so full of 
 buoyant life that the easy brilliancy and 
 lightheartedness of the French pleased her 
 more than the heavy intellect and ' insular 
 dulness ' of her own country-people. 
 
 ' Chere madarae, I must wash my eyes 
 and restore my nose to its natural whiteness 
 before I present myself to the gaze of the 
 girls,' she said, and left her friend as 
 unceremoniously as she met her. 
 
 ' It cannot be as she says,' ejaculated 
 madame ; 'if so, what will become of her?* 
 
 She had no time to answer her own 
 question, but went off to her work while 
 Janet was in her bed-room vigorously dry- 
 ing her tears, and faintly striving to efface 
 the red. 
 
 * It only gets worse and worse,' she mur- 
 mured, rushing from washstand to glass. 
 
 ' What have you been doing ? Oh I
 
 302 RESTITUTION. 
 
 what a fright !' exclaimed her friend, Lizzie 
 Hazelmere, entering suddenly. ' What is 
 the matter, Janet?' 
 
 * Mr. Aspenel, I mean my — my — papa, 
 is rained,' she replied, covering her face 
 with her towel. 
 
 ' It would take a great deal to ruin him, 
 I should think,' said Lizzie, philosophically. 
 ' Try a little cold cream or pomatum ; I 
 wonder what Maximilien or Wilbraham 
 would say to you now ?' 
 
 At these magnificent names Janet laugh- 
 ed ; for the one was Monsieur and Madame 
 de Belleville's only son, the other Lizzie 
 Hazelmere's eldest brother ; and their 
 opinion of Janet, expressed in their mother 
 tongues, was that she was belle et piquanie^ 
 ' handsome and jolly.' 
 
 And she certainly was all this, in spite of 
 the roseate glow left by her copious tears ; 
 for Janet never did anything by halves. 
 If she laughed, she laughed, so said her 
 mentorias, too immoderately ; and if she
 
 JANET AT LAST. 303 
 
 cried, tlie tears came in torrents. Happily, 
 she did not cry often, though she had 
 suiFered from occasional storms during her 
 school-life. 
 
 ' I shall have to support myself; I always 
 knew I should,' she said, despondently. 
 
 ' But you needn't take all the girls into 
 your confidence,' returned Lizzie. ' I 
 should be much too proud. Whatever 
 happens, you know I am your friend, and, 
 Avhen I leave school at Christmas, you can 
 come and stay with me. But you mustn't 
 think of Wilbraham, for papa says he must 
 have money.' 
 
 ^ What do you mean ? I never did 
 think of him. He is the stupidest owl I 
 ever saw.' 
 
 The ringing of the school-bell put a stop 
 to this discourse, which would soon have 
 waxed into a dispute, for the friends fre- 
 quently quarrelled. Both were hot-tem- 
 pered, and Janet often longed for Edith's 
 quiet voice to soothe her turbulent spirit.
 
 304 RESTITUTION. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon her as slie 
 entered the class-room, for, in spite of 
 water and pomatum, her face showed that 
 she had been crying, and the girls wonder- 
 ed ' what sort of row Janet had been get- 
 ting into.' 
 
 But she soon recovered her complexion 
 and her equanimity. Her application was 
 such all that morning that she was com- 
 mended by Miss Lawrence, usually slow to 
 praise, and ever ready, Janet thought, to 
 blame her. But a weight was on her 
 spirits, and her companions failed to rouse 
 her to her usual hilarity. Lizzie's opinion 
 that it was not necessary to make her 
 possible change of circumstances generally 
 known was an incredible restraint, for she 
 was naturally so open that what she knew 
 and did was patent to all. However, when 
 the day-girls had departed at two o'clock, 
 and the four boarders went to dinner, she 
 no longer disguised the cause of her tears. 
 Her father had lost a ship worth a hundred
 
 JANET AT LAST. 305 
 
 thousand pounds, and they might have to 
 leave Aspenel Park, and go nobody knew 
 where. Edith had emphasised * the obscure 
 lodging,' suggested by her father to Mrs. 
 Aspenel. 
 
 ' You won't miss the Park, Janet,' re- 
 marked Marcella Walsh, ' for you never go 
 near it. For my part I would rather have 
 a poor home that I lived in, than a rich 
 one that I never saw.' 
 
 ' How rude to say that, Marcella,' ex- 
 claimed Lizzie, for conversation was not 
 only general but unrestrained at dinner. 
 * I don't believe that Mr. Aspenel will be 
 obliged to give up the Park.' 
 
 ' What does it matter ? We shall spend 
 our vacations in Paris all the same,' put in 
 monsieur. 'My friends, reverses of fortune 
 are salutary. I have seen enough of them 
 and so has madame. We should not be 
 here with you, or have made the acquaint- 
 ance of hospitable England, but for the re- 
 volutions of our country and our family.' 
 
 VOL. J. X
 
 306 RESTITUTION. 
 
 * And I am sure the Somersets have seen 
 enough/ said Bella, whose forte was his- 
 tory, and w^ho never tired of poring over 
 the family-tree. 
 
 ' The Hazelmeres have always held their 
 own,' said Lizzie, with dignity. ' As my 
 father says, an old baronetcy is grander 
 than a new peerage. But, if Mr. Aspenel is 
 really ruined, he will not be made a peer, 
 I suppose.' 
 
 ' My children, pray finish your dinner. 
 You generally like my hoeuf a la mode that 
 I prepare myself, because no English cook 
 is capable of doing it; but to-day you 
 scarcely eat. Janet, you must not lose 
 your appetite. You generally set an ex- 
 cellent example.' 
 
 Madame's cuisine was her particular 
 forte, and the girls declared that she was 
 prouder of her hoeuf a la mode and haricots 
 veris^ and omelettes, and other dainties, 
 than she was of their literary attainments. 
 They certainly did credit to her cookery,
 
 JANET AT LAST. 307 
 
 and were as bright and happy a quartette 
 as school-life ever saw. 
 
 All that afternoon Janet was pondering 
 over Edith's dolorous diary. Even her 
 painting was irksome to her, and as to the 
 practice, which, at best, she disliked, it be- 
 came hateful. A walk across the Downs, 
 usually so exhilarating, only depressed her, 
 and her conversation with madame was 
 entirely on the subject of her father's 
 losses. She always walked with madame, 
 and was generally regarded as her daugh- 
 ter. They were known as the handsome 
 French-women, for Janet, to the best of her 
 ability, aifected the dress, air, and manners 
 of her friend's countrywomen. She had 
 spent three sets of holidays in Paris, one 
 at Hazelmere. She loved the bright gaiety 
 of Monsieur and Madame de Belleville's 
 friends, and the petits soins of their only 
 son, Maximilien, who was studying art in 
 the French capital ; while she cared little 
 for what she was pleased to call the 
 
 x2
 
 308 RESTITUTION. 
 
 aristocratic monotony of Hazelmere. She 
 laughed at the little romance woven by 
 her friend Lizzie concerning the future 
 baronet, Wilbraham, and herself; and 
 declared that Maximilien was infinitely 
 more interesting. Girls will weave such 
 romances, and Lizzie was essentially 
 romantic. She was to leave school and be 
 ' introduced,' as the phrase is, at Christmas, 
 and the two friends had planned that Janet 
 should spend her holidays at Hazelmere. 
 But now this announcement of Edith's 
 upset their arrangements ; for neither knew 
 exactly what the ruin of a millionaire 
 meant. Never had hastily-written diary 
 caused more commotion. 
 
 ' You see, madame,' said Janet, ^ Edith 
 distinctly says ruined ; and she entreats 
 me to make the most of my education.' 
 
 'I will write to Lady Ascham, and 
 inquire what the reports are,' said madame, 
 struck suddenly with this happy thought. 
 
 * How clever of you, dear madame,' ex-
 
 JANET AT LAST. 309 
 
 claimed Janet. ' Edith says at the very 
 end of her letter that Cousin Gerard has 
 met LadyAscham, and she has invited him 
 to call on her ; Aunt Clarville told Edith, 
 and Gerard must know all about Mr. 
 Aspen el's affairs.' 
 
 ' Mr. Aspenel,' as Janet persisted in call- 
 ing her father, was a sort of myth to the 
 girls and madame, Lizzie alone having 
 learnt, on reliable authority, that he was 
 enormously rich. Madame knew only that 
 her accounts were duly paid to the utter- 
 most farthing, and that she was limited in 
 the pocket-money she was instructed to 
 give her pupil, and restricted as regarded 
 her dress ; for the arrangement made by 
 Mr. Aspenel was that she should pay every- 
 thing and remit the bills to him. No half- 
 year had passed without various question- 
 ings respecting certain items in the different 
 accounts, which had given madame so 
 much trouble that she had more than 
 once been on the eve of sending Janet
 
 310 RESTITUTION. 
 
 home ; but she was so sincerely attached 
 to the young girl, and herself so dependant 
 on her pupils for support, that she refrain- 
 ed. But she had not an exalted opinion 
 of Mr. Aspenel. 
 
 Now she wondered whether his niggard- 
 ly payments were caused by this impend- 
 ing ruin. 
 
 The remainder of that day, and even the 
 following week, was spent in speculations 
 on Janet's future. The day-girls were as 
 much interested as the boarders, and 
 various reports were brought to her from 
 parents and guardians concerning her 
 father's loss. Edith's next diary was more 
 reassuring. In it she said that, although her 
 father made the worst of everything, other 
 people only laughed, and that in the village 
 and at ihe Cottages they called it ' a scare.' 
 Lady Ascham replied to madame's letter of 
 inquiry that she had heard nothing about 
 it ; but that she was hoping for a visit from 
 young Clarville, and would ask him. Thus
 
 JANET AT LAST. 311 
 
 matters went on till the approach of Christ- 
 mas, and Janet was in a fever of anxiety 
 concerning her holidays. The De Belle- 
 villes were not going to Paris, and she 
 could get no answer as to whether she 
 might go to Hazelmere. The effect on her 
 was salutary, for she set to work with a 
 will, and, according to results, made more 
 general progress in two months than she 
 had previously made in two years. On 
 the Saturday before the breaking-up day 
 she received the following letter from 
 Edith : 
 
 ' Darling Janet, 
 
 'Oh, what joy ! You are to 
 come home for the holidays. It is only 
 just settled, and I think it is Mrs. As- 
 penel's doing. Papa tells me to write to 
 you. I think he is less depressed, and 
 hope he has overrated his losses. Mr. Tom 
 Harton thinks so too. He is a great com- 
 fort both to papa and Mrs. Aspenel, but
 
 312 RESTITUTION. 
 
 Bruce detests him. Not another word. All 
 the rest viva voce. True dying to see you. 
 Bruce in the extremest excitement. My 
 heart seems burstinsf with o^ladness. 
 
 ' Your loving sister, 
 
 Edith.' 
 
 Janet's excitement was as great as 
 Bruce's, but like him she scarcely knew 
 whether to be glad or sorry. Truly glad 
 she was at the prospect of seeing Edith 
 and Nurse True and Fan and all the rest ; 
 much enchanted with the idea of meeting 
 her heau ideal, Tom Harton ; but strangely 
 depressed when she thought of her former 
 relations with her father, step-mother, and 
 her torment, Bruce. 
 
 END OF the first VOLUME. 
 
 London : Printed hy Duncan Macdonald, Blenheim House