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 OF THE 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 F8t2.^
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL 
 
 V 
 
 JOHN M. FOTHERGILL 
 
 ' 'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 
 And ask them what report they bore to heaven, 
 And how they might have borne more welcome news.' 
 
 Young. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 
 AU rights reserved.
 
 ^ lilt 9 a n : 
 
 CLAY AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS.
 
 825 
 
 V 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 TO 
 
 ®lxbtx WthwMl f olmes, 
 
 IN ADMIRATION OF HIS WRITINGS AND 
 
 REGARD FOR HIS WORTH 
 
 THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP. p^gE 
 
 I. ENOUGH TO MAKE A SQUIRE SWEAR ... 1 
 
 II. THE WHARTOXS ... ... ... ... 26 
 
 III. THE squire's HEIR ... ... ... 51 
 
 IV. FOWRASS GRANGE ... ... ... 76 
 
 V. THE REFORM MILL GRINDS ... ... 102 
 
 VI. HAVE ALL MAIDENS HEARTS TO LOSE ? ... 128 
 
 VII. PROBABLY THEY HAVE ... ... ... 155 
 
 VIIL THE FIRST PEAL OF THUNDER ... ... 181 
 
 IX. THE CLOUD GATHERS ... ... ... 207 
 
 X. A CHANGE OF FRONT ... ... ... 233 
 
 XL THE CHARTER ... ... ... ... 259 
 
 XII. YES OR NO? ... ... ... ... 285
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 ENOUGH TO MAKE A SQUIRE SWEAR. 
 
 ' ! It is surely not true ! ' 
 
 It was a full round oath such as an old- 
 fashioned Squire of hasty temper would be 
 likely to utter under intense feeling. It 
 was all the more significant from the fact 
 that Squire Wharton was not in the habit 
 of swearing, fashionable still at that time. 
 
 'It is those bloodthirsty Chartist fellows 
 that have done the foul deed. Some of 
 those scoundrels that attend meetings when 
 they ought to be at work ; who cry down 
 the Corn Laws instead of trying to honestly 
 earn the bread they eat. And now they 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 add murder, cold-blooded murder, planned 
 and carried out in cold blood, to their argu- 
 ments. I wonder what Nephew Jack will 
 say to this ? '' Peace, Law, and Order ! " 
 Yes ; that is a fine motto ! But midnight 
 murder scarcely tallies with it. Poor Tom ! 
 as honest a fellow as ever breathed. To 
 be shot like a dog ! It is enough to make 
 one swear, though I am ashamed of myself 
 for doino[ so. Confound it ! I'll have some 
 of them hanged for it. I can't bring the 
 poor fellow to life again ; but I can do my 
 duty by him. I can see that the villains 
 are brought to justice. I'll spare no money, 
 and no pains. They can come and burn 
 Gaythorne Hall over my head and me in 
 it; but that is not a prospect likely to 
 frighten an old soldier from his duty. I 
 don't care what they may threaten. I'll let 
 them see they shall not go on in riot, and 
 murder, and violence. It is a thousand 
 pities the Government don't suspend the 
 Habeas Corpus Act, and declare martial law 
 in the land. We might then do something
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 3 
 
 to put down this lawlessness. But a white- 
 livered, mealy-mouthed Whig Government 
 will do as little as possible to protect their 
 loyal subjects. I wish the Duke were in 
 power ! ' 
 
 Here the Squire ceased his invective for 
 a moment while the messenger who brouo^ht 
 the news stood trembling, uncertain whether 
 to go or stay ; afraid to move, yet scarcely 
 daring to remain. Mrs. AUouby, the 
 Squire's housekeeper, stood still, apparently 
 also uncertain what to do in the presence 
 of such unwonted passion. She evidently 
 was at a loss how to proceed ; and in doubt 
 whether a remark would soothe her master, 
 or rouse him to another outburst. Like a 
 prudent person she followed the old counsel 
 — when in doubt do nothing ! So she 
 stood silent and motionless, waiting to see 
 what would happen. 
 
 'The vile, cowardly assassins,' broke out 
 the Squire after a brief silence. * To 
 shoot the man from behind a fence 1 A 
 Red Indian's trick all over. I did not think 
 
 B 2
 
 4 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 Yorkshire the place for such a deed. It 
 is that cursed Sheffield, where they think 
 so little of murder. It always has been so. 
 Some of those wild beasts in human form 
 who delight in bloodshed. Poaching and 
 rioting, arson and murder. This is what 
 we are coming to ! And then when they 
 carry their Charter they will soon confiscate 
 property. Let the multitude get the upper 
 hand, and we shall have the French Kevo- 
 lution over again. Mob-law ! That is the 
 blessed end that nephew Jack and these 
 peaceful, radical, reforming, moral-force 
 Chartist fellows are after. Well : this is a 
 part of the beginning. Torchlight processions, 
 armed mobs. That is the gospel of peace ! 
 Such cant ! Chartism is nothing more than 
 the rule of lawlessness. The man who has 
 nothing shall share with the man who has 
 something. Very likely ; but I am not a 
 convert to that doctrine. I have something : 
 and I'll spend some of it to avenge poor 
 Tom's murder. I'll swear I will ! ' 
 
 No one that knew Squire Wharton had
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 5 
 
 any doubt about liis keeping liis word. 
 Indeed ' I have said it and I'll do it ' was 
 a favourite expression of his. And in this 
 matter there could be no questionings that 
 this rule would be carried out. His eye 
 gave evidence of his earnestness, quite as 
 unmistakable as the tones of his voice. 
 ' I swear it ; and I'll do it. Poor Tom's 
 blood shall not cry up in vain ! ' 
 
 Passion is a fearful thing to behold. 
 Even a little child convulsed with rage is 
 a shocking sight ; but when an elderly 
 man is shaken with anger it is a sight 
 which fills one with sadness, blended with 
 a sense of fear. The distorted features, 
 the i^nwonted tones, the sheer abandon of 
 the moment, combine to produce an effect 
 which is as awe-inspiring as it is revolting. 
 The messeno-er's alarm now became so 
 intense and obvious that Mrs. Allonby felt 
 that at least she must ask if he might go. 
 So she took advantage of a momentary lull 
 to ask : 
 
 ' May the messenger go now, sir ? '
 
 6 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 * Go ? certainly. Let bim go into the 
 kitchen, I may want to ask him some 
 questions. He must stay awhile.' 
 
 The messenger lost no time in availing 
 himself of the permission to leave the 
 room : and to the end of his days he 
 used to tell of the fear that fell on 
 him through the Squire's thunderstorm of 
 passion. 
 
 ' Yo' may go that loikes to tell th' Squire 
 his gamekeeper's shot i' th' woods. I']! 
 go no moore ! ' he would assert after he 
 had recited the affair. * I w^or' glad to 
 get to th' kitchen, I can tell yo' ! ' 
 
 After the messenger had left the room 
 the Squire broke out again ; but the out- 
 burst was less violent. 
 
 * Sit down, Mrs. Allonby, sit down : 
 what are you standing there for ? Are 
 you surprised I am in a passion ? Such 
 a passion as you have never seen before. 
 Well, I can't help it when I think of poor 
 Tom Earnshaw shot from behind a hedge. 
 The cowardlv assassins ! If it had been a
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 7 
 
 fair fight where he could have had a chance 
 for his life, I would not have minded so 
 much. It would have been bad enouofh 
 for me to have lost the faithful fellow ; 
 and for him to have lost his life ! But it 
 would have been better than this. Shot 
 from behind a fence, as he was walkinor 
 along the edge of the wood ! Lying out 
 all night in the rain ; while his wife was 
 wondering what ever had happened him. 
 Looking after poachers, I dare say she 
 thought. Tom never shirked his duty. 
 He didn't lie in the blankets while the 
 thieving poachers fetched the pheasants 
 down out of the trees. That was not Tom's 
 way of earning his wages. He was a true- 
 hearted, honest fellow as ever broke bread ! ' 
 
 Mrs. AUouby watched the gradual stilling 
 of the storm in motionless silence. She 
 was mistress of Gaythorne Hall to all 
 intents and purposes in ordinary times, 
 and under everyday circumstances. But, 
 now, she knew her place ; and kept it ! 
 
 'He had his enemies, Tom had; like
 
 8 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 every man that does his duty. He hated 
 a poacher as a terrier hates a rat. The 
 rat hates the terrier in turn ; and the 
 poachers have paid him out. Yes ; and 
 111 pay them out for this ! ' continued 
 the Squire. *He has got a lot of them 
 into trouble at time and time : and I 
 dare say while they were in prison they 
 planned how to do for him. And they 
 have done for him too ! Stone-dead and 
 cold, when he was found, with the gun 
 beside him at half-cock. It had not gone 
 off when he fell. He could have had no 
 suspicion of what was going to happen ? ' 
 
 *None whatever, it seems, from what 
 Tunstall says,' replied Mrs. Allonby, under- 
 standing from the Squire's tones that he 
 wished her to speak. ' It's very dreadful I ' 
 
 *And the queer thing is, no one heard 
 a shot fired. It was a close, thick night ; 
 when did it begin to rain ? ' 
 
 ' The rain began about ^ve : it was dark 
 soon.' 
 
 *I suppose the villains had just light
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 9 
 
 enough to see to shoot by. It was a 
 dastardly foul scheme ; to escape into the 
 wood if any one had happened to hear the 
 shot, and come to see what it was about.' 
 
 The Squire was now passing into that 
 comparative calm which follows a storm — a 
 calm which will soon in its turn give way to 
 action, however; a period of C[uiescence, when 
 the forces are gathering for new activity. 
 His brain was busy forming — not. resolves, 
 they w^ere already taken ; but schemes, devis- 
 ing the measures that were to be adopted ; 
 for he had been a soldier, and was ready of 
 resource and prompt to act. After a period 
 of silence, he commenced : * The first thing 
 to be done is to have the ground searched 
 to see if any traces of the scoundrels can 
 be made out. The next thing: is to offer 
 a reward without delay. Times are bad : 
 but I will give two hundred pounds to 
 any one who will tell us the murderer's 
 name, or point him out. That ought to 
 tempt some one to tell out. Any one but 
 the man that pulled the trigger ought to
 
 10 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 jump at it. He could go away and 
 start life afresh on that. Tell Timstail I 
 wish to see him again, Mrs. Allonby ! ' 
 The housekeeper did as she was requested, 
 and brought Tunstall back into the room ; 
 after that taking up a position beside 
 her master's chair. Tunstall had obeyed 
 the order in fear and trembling ; and 
 could hardly be persuaded to revisit the 
 Squire, until thoroughly assured that his 
 rage was greatly spent. With some per- 
 sistence Mrs. Allonby induced him to pluck 
 up courage enough to face the Squire. 
 If it had been a fight, a tussle with men 
 in his own rank in life, Ned Tunstall would 
 never have flinched for a moment ; but 
 he had the awe for his master which such 
 a servant of that time felt. His master 
 belonged to a totally difl'erent class in life ; 
 which he had always been brought up to 
 look up to as his betters. He went in 
 considerable fear of the Squire at all 
 times ; and that outburst of passion had 
 simply frightened him. To have entered
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 11 
 
 the Squire's own rooms would have been 
 a serious matter to him under any circum- 
 stances ; but as it was, his courage forsook 
 him. It was evident agony to him to 
 stand where he was; and the Squire 
 observed it. 
 
 ' The first thing to be done, Tunstall, 
 is to examine the place to see if there is 
 any paper that has been used for wadding ; 
 that might tell us much. Then see if there 
 are any footprints ; though I fear the rain 
 will have washed all traces away, unless 
 there is some clay not covered by leaves : 
 it's a chance, but try it. Then see if there 
 is a piece of rag on any thorn near. When 
 a man is in a hurry lie is very apt to get 
 a tear, and a bit of his clothes is left 
 behind. That is a tell-tale the Indians 
 always looked for carefully. If you find 
 any bit of cloth, don't take it down at 
 once : look, and see how it hangs, and 
 how it has been torn. You can't ^ut it 
 back as you find it if once you shift it. 
 Bulman has got the rheumatics ; get old
 
 12 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 
 
 Jim Woodcock to go with you. He is 
 as cunning as a fox ; and thougli lie is one 
 of those cursed Chartists, Jim is no 
 " physical force " man. He'll help you. 
 You two will see as much as ten men, 
 and not tread about so much. Tell old 
 Jim there is to be two hundred pounds 
 reward. That will give him an interest 
 in the search. Go at once, before it gets 
 known, and a crowd gathers, till you can 
 find nothing, and all traces of footsteps 
 are lost.' 
 
 Ned listened as attentively as the state 
 of his faculties would permit. His natural 
 acumen enabled him to follow the Squire, 
 and to see the points he put. In fact 
 Ned's respect for his master was raised 
 to that pitch on seeing how quickly his 
 rage had passed into collected thought, 
 that he held him ever after as almost 
 more than human. When telling the tale 
 of his fright in after days he never forgot 
 to describe his wonderment at the Squire's 
 clear orders after so brief an interval.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 13 
 
 He did not need to be told to go twice ; 
 and set off for old Jim AVoodcock's as fast 
 as his legs could carry him. Jim was a 
 cobbler and a strong politician ; and a 
 man of keen wit, and shrewd good sense 
 to boot. He listened to the story of the 
 finding of poor Earnshaw, the taking of 
 his body into his cottage ; and then of the 
 Squire's passion, and his after directions, 
 without comment. 
 
 * Odds wunds, man ! but it's a grievous 
 tale yo' tell. The Squire '11 be rare an' 
 mad, I'sc warrant yo'. Let's be gooin'. If 
 w^e can du enny good the suiner we're after 
 it the better,' replied old Jim at last. 
 ' Let's be off ; ' falling, as most men do 
 who speak a vernacula, rinto the dialect all 
 the more strongly when under emotion. 
 
 They set off together to the scene of the 
 murder. It was a long pasture running 
 alongside the wood which formed Squire 
 "Wharton's main preserve. It w^as an ex- 
 tensive wood, well stocked with pheasants 
 and ground game ; and consequently w^as
 
 14 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the object of poor Earnshaw's best atten- 
 tions. A stout lioUy-fence, common in that 
 part of the country, formed the boundary 
 betwixt the pasture and the wood. The 
 wood consisted largely of comparatively 
 young oak trees ; and the undergrowth of 
 hazel with a few blackthorns and briars, 
 was pretty thick. The assassin had chosen 
 the place well, for the holly-fence screened 
 him perfectly from his victim ; and also 
 from any one who might, by any accident, 
 have seen Earnshaw fall, and come to see 
 what was the matter. The fence was un- 
 broken for three or four hundred yards, and 
 if some one had been attracted to the spot, 
 the assassin could have escaped into the 
 brushwood and been lost in the shades of 
 evening, long before any pursuer could have 
 got round the end of the holly-fence into 
 the wood. All this the two noted carefully, 
 and commented on the cunning displayed 
 in the manner of the deed. Here and there 
 near the fence were clumps of gorse ; and 
 it was close to one of these that Earnshaw
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 15 
 
 fell when sliot. Had any one heard the 
 shot and looked towards the direction of 
 the sound, the body on the ground would 
 scarcely have been distinguishable from the 
 dark gorse. The close dark night, with 
 impending rain, made it most unlikely that 
 any one would be about, Earnshaw w^as 
 very fond of sauntering^ along; the edsre of 
 the wood in an evening, and if a rabbit 
 showed itself to bag it ; but he never 
 allowed his dogs to accompany him in this 
 stroll, as they disturbed the game too much. 
 Consequently there was no dog to give any 
 alarm. Whoever had done the deed was 
 evidently very familiar with his habits. 
 
 At last they came to the place where the 
 body was found. A patch of bloody grass 
 told where the blood had soaked into the 
 o-round ; and the heavy rain had washed it 
 so that no clots had formed. The grass, 
 too, still bore the impression of the form 
 that had rested on it for some fourteen 
 hours. When Tunstall had gone to look 
 for Earnshaw, he had got quite close to
 
 16 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the body before he discerned it. The 
 face wore that calm which is found in 
 death from a gunshot-wound. When the 
 cause of death is a sword or bayonet- 
 wound, the features still w^ear in death 
 the expression they bore when the fatal 
 w^ound was received. A gunshot is un- 
 seen ; and the features are comparatively 
 expressionless. Tunstall was surprised to 
 find him lying calm on his left side : his 
 gun, w^hich he had been carrying in his 
 arm, lying under him. His velvet coat 
 was soaked with rain ; and its collar was 
 torn with shot, and stained with blood. 
 The neck showed a ra2:o:ed wound beneath 
 the ear. It was evidently made with a 
 charge of shot. The murderer had obviously 
 taken a deliberate aim from behind the 
 fence and shot him at a short distance, 
 thus making sure of his object. The shot 
 tore through the large blood-vessels of the 
 neck, and he must have rapidly bled to 
 death. It was skilfully planned altogether; 
 both with a view to the success of the deed
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 17 
 
 and the escape of the murderer; and so 
 both of the men felt. After having sur- 
 veyed the ground carefully in search of any 
 piece of paper which had been used as 
 wadding in the loading of the weapon, to 
 their surprise none could be discovered. 
 The matter was debated whether the 
 assassin had come round and removed 
 the paper after it had fallen, or not. This 
 hypothesis was rejected as impossible. To 
 do this he must have returned in the dark, 
 and so cunning a villain would never have 
 exposed himself along that long, impene- 
 trable fence ; and would have had to have 
 used a light. It was next conjectured that 
 he might have used some dry leaves or 
 grass, which would be blown completely 
 to pieces by the explosion. Then the fence 
 was examined ; there were no marks of 
 gunpowder anywhere, and no leaves had 
 been torn by shot. The wonderment of 
 the searchers waxed greater and greater. 
 They then placed a mark on the top of 
 the fence, so as to recognise the precise 
 VOL. 1. c
 
 18 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 
 
 spot from the inside of the hedge ; and 
 having done this, they went away to the 
 entrance of the wood. Tunstall easily made 
 his way along the rides of the wood till 
 they approached the scene of the murder. 
 Here he plunged into the underwood, and 
 soon found the mark they had placed on 
 the fence. They then searched narrowly 
 everywhere ; but nothing betrayed the 
 recent presence of man. The grass was 
 long and tangled, covered with fallen 
 leaves. If these had been recently dis- 
 turbed, the heavy rain had obliterated 
 every trace of such disturbance. The 
 underwood around was mainly hazel ; there 
 were neither thorns nor briars near, con- 
 sequently no rag of clothing could be 
 expected. They then looked for foot- 
 prints, but in vain. The weather had 
 been fine for- a day or two and the 
 ground w^as hard, so that there were no 
 footprints ; at least that an English eye 
 could detect. Perhaps the Eed Indian or 
 the native of Australia could have found
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 19 
 
 them readily ; but there were no traces the 
 two Yorkshire men could find, thouo-h 
 they searched carefully and long. 
 
 ' I'm feared we're goin' to find nought, 
 Ned/ said old Woodcock at last. ' I'm 
 fair beaten. He's known what he's bin 
 doin', the chap 'at planned this job.' 
 
 *Aye, that he hes. But we mun try a 
 bit longer. Th' Squire '11 be anxious to 
 know that all's bin done.' 
 
 But no further search availed them any- 
 thing. It was quite clear that the villain 
 had thought the matter well over, and taken 
 care to make no oversight ; fully impressed 
 that in murder it is only the blunderers 
 who get caught. There was no clue to 
 be found, and very unwillingly the two 
 gave up their efforts. Eetracing their 
 steps, they left the wood, and returned to 
 where the body was found. It was useless 
 to look for anything there. There were 
 to be seen the marks made on the wet 
 ground by Tunstall and the others who 
 helped him to carry the body of the 
 
 C 2
 
 20 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 
 
 murdered man to his cottage ; but these 
 were unimportant. 
 
 'I'm feard we'll hev to give up the 
 job/ exclaimed Woodcock, evidently greatly 
 chamned at their failure. ' Whativver will 
 
 CD 
 
 th' Squire say, does t' tbink ? ' 
 
 *ril noan go and see,' replied Ned. 
 * I'se not forgit in a hurry t' scene this 
 mwornin. Ye mun gang yersen, Jim ; I 
 daren't ! ' 
 
 All the old cobbler's persuasive powers 
 were unequal to inspiring Tunstall with the 
 courage to face the Squire again. So he 
 set off by himself to announce the failure 
 of all their efforts. 
 
 He was shown into the Squire's room, 
 where the inmate was still fuming, his rage 
 having but partially subsided. His con- 
 dition was that of the sea after a storm. 
 As the waters seethe in restless unquiet, so 
 the old Squire's mind was jDcrturbed and 
 uneasy. He felt that if he could only get 
 some trace of the murderer, some hope or 
 prospect of bringing him to justice, of
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 21 
 
 avenging poor Earnsliaw's death, he could 
 be somewhat pacified. He had great hopes 
 that the searchers would find some evidence 
 which might point out the assassin. But his 
 hopes were dashed to the ground by Wood- 
 cock's report. 
 
 ' Are you quite sure, Woodcock, that you 
 took every pains ; that you have neglected 
 nothing ? ' 
 
 'As sure as I am that I'm standin here 
 
 afore you. We sought ivverywhere, and 
 
 could find nouorht — neither ras: nor foot- 
 er o 
 
 step. He was owre- cunning to leave a 
 single evidence o' any kind.' 
 
 ' That's very extraordinary,' replied the 
 Squire. 'It seems to have been some one 
 who was quite familiar with Earnshaw's 
 ways, and the ground ; who has laid 
 his plans very skilfully. Indeed, he must 
 have surveyed the ground very care- 
 fully ; both as to the certainty of killing 
 the poor fellow and escaping after- 
 wards.' 
 
 ' That he has, sir. He's non goin' to be
 
 22 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 caught if he can help it. He's a crafty 
 villain.' 
 
 'You are rio^ht there, Woodcock. You 
 know all the " physical force " men among 
 the Chartists round here : who do you think 
 has done it ? I know you have no sympathy 
 with the " physical force " men.' 
 
 'Not I, sir. I'm only too sorry that 
 these rough chaps hav' joined us. They'll 
 only bring discredit on the party, and do 
 it harm i' the end. But are you sure, sir, 
 that the Chartists have done it ? ' 
 
 ' Who else would be likely to have done 
 it ? No one on the other side would have 
 injured Earnshaw. Why, with the winter 
 coming oii, every friend of order felt Tom 
 to be invaluable. He hated a Chartist as 
 he did a poacher ; indeed they were the 
 same to him. These ''physical force" men 
 are all a lot of ruffians, who if they are 
 only defying the law are happy. It must 
 have been one of them that owed poor Tom 
 a grudge ; and perhaps wanted him out of 
 the way. If they are planning some mid-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 23 
 
 riio'lit oiitraires, some more rick-burninors, 
 Tom was just the man they would want to 
 get rid of ; the villains ! I wonder respect- 
 able men like you and my nephew, who 
 ought to know better, countenance such 
 lawlessness. You ought to be ashamed of 
 yourselves, both of you : though the ease is 
 w^orse with him than with you. He has a 
 vote ; he does not need to seek one. You 
 haven't one, and naturally want one. But 
 I don't think pikes and riots, lawlessness 
 and outrao-e, shootino- nien from behind a 
 fence, the road to the franchise ; or indeed 
 to any of the points of the Charter.' 
 
 This was rather unfair to Woodcock, who 
 deprecated violence as much as any of the 
 opponents of Chartism, and who raised his 
 voice against it at every opportunity. 
 
 ^ I think you are rather hard upon us, sir. 
 I am sure that the real reformers seek to 
 attain their ends by legal measures ; the 
 " physical force " men are only drawbacks 
 to our cause. We regret violence, and 
 speak against it as much as you or any
 
 24 GAYTHOENE PIALL. 
 
 other magistrate can. I don't think you 
 are just to us *' moral force" Chartists, that 
 wish to do all legally. '' Hold fast by the 
 laws," old Major Cartwright used to say ; 
 and we hold with him. I'm sure, sir, I am 
 as sorry as you are. I am sorry about poor 
 Tom Earnshaw ; and I am sorry that this 
 has happened, for the sake of the cause ; ' 
 his language rising with his subject. 
 
 The Squire felt the old man's rebuke, 
 and his natural generosity prompted him at 
 once to apologise. 
 
 * I am sorry I said what I did, Woodcock. 
 You are right, it was not quite fair to charge 
 you and your party with abetting violence ; 
 I was unjust. But then I am under great 
 provocation.' 
 
 ^That's true,' replied the old reformer. 
 ' You've been greatly tried, sir, and pro- 
 voked ; and I'm sorry we've been unable 
 to find any trace of the scoundrel. We did 
 our best, I can assure you.' 
 
 ' I am sure you did, Woodcock, and I 
 am very much obliged to you. My grati-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 25 
 
 tude will take another form than words. I 
 shall not forget your ready help in this 
 terrible trouble that has come upon us. Do 
 you think a reward might bring anything 
 out?' 
 
 ' It's well worth tryin', sir. But I'm 
 feared this is a single-handed job ; an' if he 
 keeps his own counsel he's safe.' 
 
 ' Well, we must try, and see wdiat it will 
 do. Good morning, Woodcock.' 
 
 The old Chartist w^as turninoj to g;o, when 
 he halted, saying, 
 
 ' If it's bin done by the " physical force " 
 men hereabouts, Dan Appleyard will know 
 something about it.' 
 
 ' Do you say so ? ' the Squire said eagerly. 
 * Then the reward may do some good.'
 
 26 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTEK 11. 
 
 THE W H A E T N S. 
 
 The old Squire's efibrts remained barren 
 of result. The only effect of the reward 
 was to arouse the anger of his turbulent 
 neighbours, the * physical force ' Chartists. 
 It came somehow to Dan Appleyard's ears 
 that the reward was supposed to be related 
 to him in particular ; and conscious of his 
 innocence and his ignorance on the matter, 
 Dan felt very much injured. Peo23le who 
 know that they are not beyond suspicion on 
 many matters, can usually be specially virtu- 
 ous and indignant when they do chance to 
 be charged unjustly. Dan might never have 
 coveted a pheasant, or listened to a Chartist 
 speaker, to judge by the wails he sent up at 
 being supposed to be cognisant of the per- 
 petrator or perpetrators of Tom Earns haw's
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 27 
 
 murder. It was a dastardly deed, was 
 a^^reed on all sides. 
 
 The inquest was held ; Ned Tunstall and 
 Jim Woodcock said wdiat they had to say, 
 and were complimented by the coroner on 
 the pains they had taken and the intelli- 
 gence they had displayed in the matter ; 
 but the A^erdict w\as — ' Wilful murder : but 
 by whom committed there is no evidence 
 to show.' 
 
 The matter soon ceased to be actively 
 debated ; but the Scjuire did not stand alone 
 in his opinion that the murder was the work 
 of some of the lawless fellows who joined 
 the ranks of the Chartists, and who would 
 join any movement directed against the 
 Government, or those in authority : men 
 who cared only to oppose law and order, 
 and recked not under what banner they 
 arrayed themselves, so long as they were in 
 revolt against the ruling powers. They 
 were the bane of the Chartists. Those who 
 were true to the matter of reform as a cure 
 for the evils around them, and who, like
 
 28 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 Jim Woodcock, honestly believed that in 
 the Charter they had a panacea for the 
 national troubles ; and those of the upper 
 classes who sympathised with them, re- 
 garded the ' jDhj'sical force ' men as more 
 injurious to their cause than their avowed 
 enemies, Whig or Tory. To this last class, 
 namely, those socially above the Chartists 
 (who were mainly belonging to the wage- 
 class), who sympathised with them, or, in 
 their own words, held that ' the earth was 
 made for the many, and not for the few,' 
 belonged the old Squire's nephew Jack ; his 
 heir in default of a lawful son of his own. 
 
 It may now be well to see what kind 
 of folks the AYhartons were. They were 
 gentlefolks ; a younger branch of the great 
 Wharton family of the North, whose attach- 
 ments to the Stuarts cost them so dear. 
 The Bibles and prayer-books still distributed 
 yearly over the old manors of the Whartons, 
 which have passed into other hands, keep 
 the memory of the family, if not green, still 
 in remembrance. These Whartons had
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 29 
 
 had of later years Whig leanings, and the 
 old Squire of Gaythorne Hall, who died in 
 1801, was a Whig. He had married a 
 Miss Rolleston, the daughter of another 
 Yorkshire squire, who died before him in 
 1790. Both families were old, highly 
 respected, and though without titles, be- 
 longed to the rank of the county families ; 
 among whom many a plain squire holds a 
 prominent position in Yorkshire. From 
 their union sprang three boys — Charles, 
 born in 1772 ; Edward, born in 1775 ; and 
 Francis, born in 1778. There were no girls. 
 The Wharton property was a handsome 
 one, free from incumbrance, so that there 
 was no need for any economy ; and Gay- 
 thorne Hall, the family residence of the 
 Whartons, was known for its plenty of 
 everything to eat and drink ; both with the 
 family and the domestics. Beef and ale 
 were to be found there in no stinted 
 quantities. Neither the Squire nor his 
 wife cared to travel, and consequently they 
 were profuse at home. They of course
 
 30 GAYTHORNP] HALL. 
 
 observed tlie rule of saving a certain 
 portion of tlieir income yearly for their 
 children ; but three sons and no daughters 
 were a family, measured by a Yorkshire 
 standard, which called for little thrift or 
 forethought ; these boys could easily be 
 provided for. The eldest would of course 
 have the estate ; Edward would be a 
 soldier ; and Francis be a clergyman, or 
 enter the navy, according to the tastes he 
 might develop as he grew up. It was 
 necessary to provide for their education : 
 to give Charles an eldest son's allowance 
 while his father lived ; to buy Edward a 
 commission, and supplement his pay, so 
 that he could live as became a Wharton ; 
 and to make provision for the future needs 
 of Francis. But all this rather furnished 
 material for Squire AVharton and his wife 
 to talk about, than necessitated that self- 
 denial of which so much was heard and 
 so little seen. 
 
 Mrs. Wharton's dower consisted of 
 £7000, well invested in shares in the Aire
 
 GAYTHOKXE HALL. 31 
 
 and Calcler Canal Company ; and the liigli 
 rate of interest which they paid enabled 
 her to save a sum yearly which would 
 provide Edward with all he would require. 
 So they lived easily without anxiety, and 
 were happy : perhaps happier than many 
 of their neighbours who found London in 
 the season an irresistible attraction, and 
 Bath in the winter almost a necessity. 
 
 The Whartons stayed at home : the 
 Squire looked after his property and his 
 tenants ; while his lady looked after the poor. 
 
 The farmers prospered ; they had ready 
 markets for their corn, their butter, their 
 fat cattle in the neighbouring towns of 
 Barnsley and Sheffield ; and the labourers 
 shared in their prosperity. The parish of 
 Brigstone, on the high ground which slopes 
 up to the moors lying betwixt Lancashire 
 and Yorkshire, was a model rural 
 parish. Its south-eastern lip touched the 
 famous Satanstoe collieries, where the coal 
 comes almost to the surface, and so was 
 easily worked.
 
 32 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 But the border-scrap of the parish was 
 allied to Satanstoe in every respect : and 
 knew nothing of its connection with Brig- 
 stone except by the collection of the rates ; 
 and the facts that its denizens went to 
 Brigstone to marry, to bury, and to christen. 
 As a matter of fact, Brigstone was a strictly 
 agricultural parish. The village itself had, 
 besides the rectory, two taverns, a large 
 house where dwelt the solicitor, who was 
 also Squire Wharton's man of business ; a 
 less pretentious house tenanted by the 
 village doctor ; a farrier of local rejDute ; 
 and the usual craftsm.en — smith, carpenter, 
 mason, shoemalver, and tailor, found in all 
 village communities. The AVhartons were 
 the family of the parish, and occupied the 
 high-railed pew in the parish church. Ex- 
 cept the rector, the solicitor, and the 
 doctor, all were home products — sons of 
 the soil of Brigstone. Every man knew 
 all about his neighbour ; every woman was 
 familiar with the smallest details in the 
 lives of her gossips. Lying away from the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 33 
 
 great industrial fields of Yorkshire, it turned 
 its back on Lancashire ; consequently re- 
 ceived no incomers, who had their own 
 private reasons for leaving their native 
 places : such sought rather the manufactur- 
 ing towns. From this Mrs. Wharton 
 had the satisfaction of knowing precisely 
 who and what kind of persons the recipients 
 of her bounty were. 
 
 Mrs. Wharton's fortune, by some whim 
 upon her father's part, was settled upon 
 her ; and after that upon her first female 
 grandchild, no matter by which of her 
 own children. Until the first female 
 grandchild came of age the income of the 
 shares was to be enjoyed by the holder 
 of the estate : it being enjoined that it was 
 expected he would make the girl, while a 
 minor, an appropriate yearly allowance ; 
 but this was optional, and no amount was 
 suggested. As to any other grandchildren, 
 male or female, their parents must provide 
 for them, as seemed fit unto themselves. 
 Under the settlement the income fell to 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 84 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the old Squire on his wife's death in 1790. 
 When he followed her in 1801, his eldest son 
 Charles drew the interest ; and a very com- 
 fortable addition to his own income he found 
 it. It enabled him to continue an allow- 
 ance to Edward beyond what he inherited 
 under his father's will ; and to continue 
 Francis at Cambridge with ample funds. 
 He was a right brotherly brother : and as 
 his own tastes were strictly squirely, he 
 had enough for himself and to spare. His 
 pride made him very sensitive about the 
 position of the Whartons ; and as his own 
 position was beyond dispute, his anxieties 
 lay with his brothers and their respective 
 positions. Consequently he was generous 
 to them to an unusual extent. His dog, 
 his gun, his fishing-rod, his roadster, were 
 the objects of his thoughts ; as to the 
 carriage-horses, they were the business of 
 the coachman. A kindly genial Squire, 
 fond of a rubber of whist, and a glass of 
 good port : that was his character. He 
 attended the petty sessions, but was scarcely
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 35 
 
 an active magistrate. CoDsequently lie 
 developed a latent tendency to gout which 
 ran in the Wharton blood. 
 
 He remained a bachelor ; Ed^Yard bought 
 a commission ; Francis passed through a 
 creditable college course at Cambridge ; 
 but could not decide upon a subsequent 
 career. He was reckoned a good classic 
 and a sound mathematician ; and what 
 more did a man want in that day ? He 
 had no ambition to stay at Cambridge, and 
 did not take such a class, or such a position 
 in the mathematical tripos as to encourage 
 any hopes he might have held of gaining a 
 position there. He had a studious turn, 
 but would not enter the Church ; neither 
 was he inclined to enter the navy, though 
 Nelson's deeds had rendered the naval 
 service at that time very attractive to the 
 cadets of good families. He had declined 
 to be a midshipman, and preferred a civilian 
 life ; so he had been sent to school, and 
 after that to the University, without any 
 definite aim ; and chiefly because the old 
 
 D 2
 
 36 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Squire did not see what else to do with 
 him. He was too much of a Wharton to 
 think of manufacture or commerce for his 
 son. Yet Francis was not lazy. When his 
 elder brother Charles came to be the head 
 of the f[imily he had even less inclination 
 to press anything upon his younger brother. 
 So Francis went here and there for a year 
 or two, seeing most of the prominent towns 
 of England. He had been to Bath, was 
 familiar with Cheltenham, had visited 
 Brighton ; and had kept always in a good 
 circle. The Squire's disinclination to marry ; 
 Edward's connection with the army, which 
 was not favourable to matrimony ; caused 
 Francis to be looked upon as the one by 
 whom the Wharton estates would be handed 
 down to posterity. At last he came to 
 Gaythorne Hall ; and found amongst Lis 
 brother's neighbours a Miss Marston, of 
 Fowrass Grange. 
 
 Fowrass Grange was a comfortable if 
 small country house, with a property at- 
 tached to it — the Grange Farm. Her father,
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 37 
 
 Mr. iMarston, was an asthmatic, and bad 
 been compelled to reside in the south, tak- 
 ing up his abode at Hastings. He was a 
 widower of literary tastes, and brought up 
 his daughter to share them. When his 
 death permitted of Miss Marston return- 
 ino- to Fowrass Grans-e, the neiorhbourinor 
 Squires, their wives and daughters, were 
 rather afraid of the well-read young lady; 
 who if not quite so wealthy as themselves, 
 stood above them in cidture. She was a 
 tall, auburn-haired lady, of erect carriage, 
 aud a decided will of her own. It is need- 
 less to say that Squire Wharton made no 
 approaches to her, or her hand. He was a 
 perfectly courteous neighbour ; no more. 
 But when the college-bred Francis came to 
 Gaythorne Hall, a very different state of 
 affairs began. The attraction was obviously 
 mutual : the Squire had no objection to 
 Miss Marston as a sister-in-law ; she was of 
 age, with no one to consult. She was not 
 rich enough to attract that contemptible 
 social parasite the fortune-hunter ; nor was
 
 38 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 she a very promising object for liis wiles. 
 So it ended in Francis settling down at Fow- 
 rass Grange ; near enough to Gaythorne Hall 
 for intimate association betwixt the brothers. 
 Perhaps Charles always entertained a little 
 feeling of fear towards his handsome, 
 clever, and managing sister-in-law. 
 
 The Whartons were fair : and the dark 
 auburn hair of Mrs. Wharton formed a con- 
 trast to her husband's locks. They were 
 held to be a handsome couple ; and when a 
 little boy came in 1808 he was considered a 
 beautiful baby. Some years elapsed before 
 a little girl was added to the family group. 
 When the last arrival came on the scene, 
 the little heir of the Whartons was a re- 
 markably handsome boy, with hair and 
 eyes the colour of a new-fallen chestnut. 
 He was of a more intense shade of colour 
 than hitherto belonged to the Whartons. 
 A bright little fellow he was, too, full of 
 curiosity and willingness to learn ; and a 
 great favourite with his uncle the Squire. 
 
 ' Why should I marry, with a little chap
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 39 
 
 like that for an heir ? ' he would say in his 
 good-natured way. ' I don't believe if I 
 married I should ever have half such a 
 fellow^ of my own. The Whartons w^on't 
 drop out of their position with 3^ou at the 
 head of them, Jack.' 
 
 Soon after his marriage Mr. Francis 
 found that the Marston property w^as in a 
 very confused condition. There was a good 
 deal of it, scattered about ; but there w^ere 
 also several mortg^ao-es. Mr. Marston had 
 left his affairs in the hands of his solicitor, 
 and the solicitor had made work for himself 
 out of it. It w\as determined to make a 
 clean sweep of it ; so all was sold except Fow- 
 rass Grano;e and the Grang;e Farm ; and the 
 balance remaining after the expenses, and 
 mortgages, &c. were all paid, was invested 
 in some new docks building in Liverpool. 
 
 ' The investment won't pay for a year or 
 two, but it will come in pleasantly when 
 the boy will have to go to college,' w^as 
 the remark made over and over again by 
 Francis to his wife.
 
 40 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 
 
 When the little girl came the Squire was 
 greatly delighted. 'Now I can bear the 
 expenses of this one/ he would say. ' This 
 one is my care. Now for the old Eolleston 
 dower. I think fifty pounds a year for a 
 start will feed and clothe her. At present 
 at least ! How do the docks get on, Frank ? 
 Not much plunder yet, eh ? ' he would con- 
 tinue in his genial brotherly way. 
 
 The old housekeeper at Gaythorne Hall 
 was even fonder of the children than her 
 master ; and many a mild reproof little 
 Jack got from his mother for visits to her 
 room, where a carnival, threatening a 
 stomach-ache, was invariably provided for 
 him. But one day the old body caught 
 cold, and was soon in her grave. The 
 Squire hated new faces, and was determined 
 to make Mary Allonby, the parlour-maid, 
 housekeeper. Mrs. Wharton was firmly 
 opposed to this, urging that a more ex- 
 perienced person was desirable. But the 
 Squire showed that beneath the greatest 
 good-nature there may lie, hidden from
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 41 
 
 ordinary vision, a hard piece of stubborn- 
 ness in the groundwork of the character. It 
 was the only difference which ever cropped 
 up in the relations betwixt the two brothers. 
 Mrs. Wharton retained her connections, 
 and was always courteous and civil to the 
 new housekeeper ; but always preserved a 
 distinct distantness of manner. Mrs. 
 Allonby, as she now was termed, felt this, 
 as she was intended to feel it ; but gave 
 no sign of her feelings. The little fellow 
 missed the old housekeeper, as the new one 
 treated him less liberally than lier prede- 
 cessor ; who endured his mother's protests 
 without the slio'htest intention of heedino^ 
 them. But under the circumstances such 
 a position could not be continued, so Mrs. 
 Allonby practised economy towards him ; 
 which was more trying to herself even than 
 the boy. The relations of the two house- 
 holds were unaffected by this attitude of 
 Mrs. Wharton towards the new housekeeper ; 
 who simply kept out of the lady's way at 
 her visits.
 
 42 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Then the Squire went the way of liis 
 fathers, to the regret of every one. * No 
 man's enemy, but his own ! ' was the uni- 
 versal remark. 
 
 Edward had now to leave the army, 
 where he had served with distinction in 
 the war of 1812 betwixt Great Britain and 
 the United States. He had been in Canada 
 some fourteen years, and, except his brother's, 
 all the faces almost at Gaythorne Hall were 
 new. He made little chano^e in the domestic 
 arrangements of the Hall ; and was as fond 
 as his brother before him of seeing the 
 children and their parents. Mrs. Wharton 
 and he soon became great friends ; he was 
 glad to find some one with wider sympa- 
 thies and a more extended knowledge than 
 obtained among country families in those 
 days. She too was delighted to have a 
 neighbour who knew something of the world 
 outside the West Eidins; and its local inter- 
 ests. So the good feeling was mutual. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Wharton made their visits more 
 frequent even than before ; while the nurse
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 43 
 
 was at Gaytliorne Hall with the children 
 every day that the weather would permit. 
 
 They were two sweet children ; the little 
 girl being a paler, less intensely coloured, 
 copy of her brother. Squire Edward was 
 (pite as inclined as his brother before him 
 to jji'Gfer a claim to her, and to honour the 
 clause in his father's and Miss Eolleston's 
 marriage settlement. But a very curious 
 accident had happened ; the document had 
 disappeared. Old Squire Wharton had 
 always kept his deeds, and all papers and 
 parchments relating to his property in an 
 old oak chest, of massive character, guarded 
 by portentous locks. He was afraid of 
 their being mislaid, or lost : but he evi- 
 dently entertained little or no fear of fire. 
 Had a fire ever occurred at the Hall, that 
 chest must have been carried out bodily ; 
 for he kept the key of one lock, and his 
 solicitor the key of the other. It was a 
 great affair at the Hall w^hen this chest 
 was opened. When Charles had deposited 
 his will in it a year or tw^o before his death,
 
 44 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 every paper and every deed was there. But 
 after his will had been taken out, it was 
 found on reading it desirable to consult 
 the marriao^e settlement of Miss Eolleston. 
 But it was not forthcoming when looked 
 for. Another search followed, but was 
 equally barren of result. It could not 
 easily have been mislaid : it was too bulky 
 to drop out of sight very easily. Poor 
 Mr. Wordsworth the solicitor was greatly 
 puzzled about it. 
 
 * Wherever can it be ? ' he said. ' What- 
 ever can have happened to it ? The vouchers 
 of the shares, they are all right ! It was 
 no use to anybody. There is no dispute 
 in the family ; there is no motive for any 
 one to take it. Miss Edith will lose no- 
 thing by her uncle's death. The Captain 
 can allow her what he likes. There is 
 nobody else for the money. Wherever is 
 the deed '? ' he asked of himself again and 
 again, and of all around him. ' The new 
 Squire will be so annoyed,' he remarked. 
 In vain Mr. Francis tried to soothe him.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 45 
 
 ' Look here, Wordsworth ! ' he would say. 
 What is the use of bothering about it ? 
 The shares are there, safe and sure ; wdiat 
 is the use of troubling yourself ? Edward 
 Tvill do just the same without it as wdth 
 it. He knows about the original settle- 
 ment as well as I do ; or you either. I 
 would not worry if I were you ! ' 
 
 * Very likely ; you are not the family 
 solicitor. I am responsible for the docu- 
 ments. A pretty story it w'ould be at 
 Barnsley if Jeffcock and Wordsworth cannot 
 keep their clients' deeds safe ; w^hether they 
 are at their homes, or at our office. I tell 
 you I must find it.' 
 
 ' Very well ; but how do you propose 
 to do it ? ' 
 
 It W'as no use ; w^hatever injury and detri- 
 ment, through loss of reputation, to the firm 
 of ' Jeffcock and AVordsworth, solicitors,' 
 mio-ht be the result, the marriag-e settlement 
 of Miss Kolleston refused to be discovered 
 anywhere. When Squire Edward, for he 
 dropped his military title w^hen he w^as
 
 46 CAYTHOE^E HALL. 
 
 made a Justice of the Peace, on taking the 
 Wharton Estates, heard of the incident, 
 he treated it with the utmost unconcern. 
 He continued the allowance of fifty pounds 
 a year, and washed to double it. So taken 
 up was he with his little nephew and 
 niece, that shrewd judges declared he would 
 never marry. ' The late Squire looked on 
 them as if they were his owm, and the 
 new Squire's the same,' was the local com- 
 ment. The opinion was w^arranted by the 
 facts : for handsome as he was, with his 
 erect military bearing giving him a com- 
 manding look ; highly cultured with the 
 reputation of a brave and skilful soldier ; 
 a gallant man in every respect as ever 
 took a lady's eye ; the Squire remained 
 unmarried. The single ladies of the neigh- 
 bourhood took this as a personal affront ; 
 and there were a number of spinsters around 
 Gaythorne Hall who thought, and not un- 
 reasonably, that the}^ could play the part 
 of its mistress well. Some declared their 
 conviction that the reason was that the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 47 
 
 Squire was too fond of his good-looking 
 housekeeper : who certainly filled the posi- 
 tion to perfection, and let all beneath her, 
 at least, know that she was the house- 
 keeper ; though it was never urged that 
 she did so in any unkindly manner. Others 
 were equally certain that the rejection of 
 the married state was due to his sister- 
 in-law. No one was so blamed as Mrs. 
 Wharton : he wanted a wife like her : they 
 had not mind enough : such and such like 
 were the remarks made by the disappointed 
 spinsters. But, whatever the reason, the 
 fact remained. 
 
 Years rolled on and the prospect of 
 Squire Wharton's taking unto himself a 
 wife died away even in the bosoms of the 
 most sanofuine of the marriagreable maidens 
 of the district. Two widows had set their 
 caps at him, and besieged his heart with much 
 courage ; but without success. The citadel 
 could neither be taken by assault, nor carried 
 by time. Both retired baffled and chagrined 
 at their failure. He remained a bachelor.
 
 48 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 
 
 If lie was without wife, he could scarcely 
 be said to be without children ; for his 
 nephew and niece were almost as much 
 his as their parents^ 
 
 ' Jack takes like me, to the Eollestons,' 
 the Squire w^ould say ; ' he has more inches 
 than the old Whartons ; and he is heavier 
 about the shoulders. He is close upon six 
 feet. He would make a fine Guardsman, 
 Frank 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, so he would,' replied the father, 
 looking on the youth with fond paternal 
 pride ; * but Jack has no warlike ambition.' 
 
 ' He has a lot of the Marston in him 
 too ; look at the tinge of colour in his hair 
 and eyes, it is deeper than the blonde of 
 the Whartons. It's a pity he has no fancy 
 for a uniform 1 ' 
 
 ' He is like his father ; a peaceful war- 
 fare his will be. But there is the fighting 
 blood in him all the same. He will make 
 a mark of his own, Ned ; if you will be 
 good enough to live on, and not spoil the 
 prospects by dying : and so thrusting him
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 49 
 
 away from his own career by making him 
 Squire of Gaythorne Hall.' 
 
 ' Why, but you would be that, Frank ! ' 
 
 * I don't think so. You will outlive me. 
 I don't say anything about it, it would worry 
 the wife so. But I know it.' 
 
 ' Tush ! I hope not. One of us must 
 hang on if only for the lad's sake : if he 
 would be spoiled by the Wharton estates.' 
 Such was their brotherly affection. 
 
 And Miss Wharton, Edith, what of her? 
 She still remained a paler copy of her 
 brother. Erect, high - spirited, ' leonine, 
 tawny-haired, amber -eyed, full-throated, 
 skin like a blanched almond ; calm, high- 
 tempered,' she was a ' positive blonde ' 
 after Oliver Wendell Holmes's own heart. 
 She was a lighter shade of auburn than her 
 brother. There was, too, much suppressed 
 energy in her. Calm ordinarily, those eyes, 
 ' shot through with golden light, dipped in 
 yellow sunbeams,' could ' light up like 
 lambent flame ' when the feelings were 
 roused by the tale of wrong or oppression. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' He'll have his work cut out that marries 
 that girl, Frank/ her uncle would remark. 
 
 * She will not need the canal shares to 
 get her off. But it may be well to keep 
 my grip on them until we see what the 
 fortunate fellow is like. She will please 
 herself on that point, however willing to 
 yield ordinarily.'
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE squire's heir. 
 
 Such then were the Whartons of the 
 rising generation. A handsome pair they 
 were too, as was universally admitted. 
 Their father watched them with an interest 
 intensified by the conviction that he would 
 not be with them lons^. He beo^an to look 
 hacrcrard, wasted, and havino^ lived to see 
 his boy of age, passed quietly away. His 
 brother felt the wrench keenly. At Fowrass 
 Grange the blow was received with an out- 
 ward calm which told of inward sorrow. 
 Mrs. Wharton was devoted to her husband, 
 whom she worshipped. He was her idol, 
 her embodiment of wisdom and goodness ; 
 for under his quiet exterior there lay quali- 
 ties which perhaps were evident to her 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 •IJINOIS LIBRART^
 
 52 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 alone, and at which his brother even only- 
 guessed. He would say — 
 
 ' Frank was a fine fellow, but he never 
 made any figure ; hadn't enough of go in 
 him. Would have made a capital member 
 of Parliament. Could have thrown a lot 
 of light on some of these questions that 
 are causimr so much commotion. But he 
 was not likely to sit for a close borough ; 
 and never would have contested a large 
 constituency. His talents were rather 
 buried, I think,' he would conclude ; think- 
 ing vaguely of those whose lives were 
 utilized but to the half of their full 
 capacities. Possibly he had some rather 
 sharp twinges about his own life. 
 
 Mrs. Wharton's sorrow was dry-eyed for 
 the husband she loved so well. She seemed 
 to devote herself more completely now to 
 her daughter, to whom she was an elder 
 sister as well as a mother. All her ener- 
 gies were bent on the completion of her 
 dauo-hter's education, which had been con- 
 ducted by her father and herself. The
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 53 
 
 little maid liad always been quick to learn, 
 and had a retentive memory. Consequently, 
 while her brother was away at school and 
 college, she was the object of her parents' 
 care, and her mind expanded naturally ; 
 and w^as neither dwarfed nor distorted by 
 the boarding-schoo] education of that day. 
 She was a companion for her brother in 
 his holiday rambles, and kept up with him 
 in his studies very fairly. She had a 
 smattering of Latin, and some mathematics, 
 but her French was good. Mr. Francis 
 Wharton had been very fond of the French 
 language, so that the Squire (who was not 
 given to study, but had picked up a collo- 
 quial French among the French colonists 
 in Canada) often talked in that tongue ; 
 while the children were brought up to speak 
 French and English alike, ^Irs. Wharton 
 being much exercised to correct the errors 
 acquired by the Squire's example. In con- 
 versation with her daughter, in the study of 
 history, in w^hich French literature was ex- 
 tensively employed, and in other matters,
 
 54 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 Mrs. Wharton found relief from her inward 
 thoughts. But it was clear that she would 
 ere Ions: follow her husband. Edith's mind 
 was constantly exercised about her mother's 
 health, and in study each found diversion 
 from the thoughts which at other times 
 engrossed them. 
 
 When John was at home all seemed 
 lively by comparison. He was a keen 
 student, who, when he had completed a long 
 spell of reading, w^ould start, stick in hand, 
 and go for a stroll over the Gog Magog 
 Hills, or even as far as the heath of New- 
 market. He was, in fact, a studious man 
 by habit, and was believed to be one of the 
 most promising men at his father's old 
 college, King's, at Cambridge. It w^as evi- 
 dent that he was a worker by choice ; that 
 it required no strain to keep him w^ell in 
 the collar with the traces tight. He took a 
 better position in his final examinations than 
 his father did ; and might have claimed from 
 his college some recognition of his position, 
 but he had no wish to settle in Cambridge.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 55 
 
 He evidently inherited liis father's tenden- 
 cies to wander about, or perhaps in each 
 case there was a return to the ways of our 
 okl nomadic ancestors ; and he was fond of 
 mounting a knapsack and, stick in hand, 
 setting off to see some place, some historic 
 site, some fine scenery, or some industry 
 which attracted his attention. One matter 
 especially attracted his thoughts and en- 
 listed his enthusiasm, and that was the 
 progress of reform : the subject then con- 
 vulsing the whole nation. As a student he 
 had taken an active part in the politics of 
 the day, and was frequently a speaker in 
 the debates which went on in Cambridge. 
 His sympathies were with the party of 
 reform, and he was a Whig. Consequently 
 after his college career was over he made 
 himself familiar with diflferent districts of 
 England. 
 
 The rejection of the proposed bill of re- 
 form brought forward by Earl Grey, by the 
 House of Lords in 1831, had been followed 
 by a wild outburst of violence. The riotous
 
 56 GA.YTHORNE HALL. 
 
 mobs of different towns retaliated on their 
 enemies. Some of the prominent peers 
 were assaulted and put in peril of their 
 lives. Not only that, but their castles were 
 fired or sacked. The Duke of Newcastle 
 had to endure both, and his seat, Notting- 
 ham Castle, was burned to the ground. 
 Belvoir Castle, the Duke of Eutland's, was 
 attacked. Bristol plunged into riots such 
 as have scarcely been witnessed in this 
 country, when its recorder went there, who 
 had been a strenuous opponent of the bill. 
 Bread-riots were not unknown there ; but 
 in this burst of fury the Mansion House, 
 the Bishop's palace, the Custom House, 
 warehouses and private dwellings, went up 
 in flames, while the 14th Light Dragoons 
 charged the masses. The mob at Derby 
 broke open the gaol. All w^as fury. The 
 opponents of reform grew alarmed. Amidst 
 all too there was the incubus, the burden 
 of the Corn Laws goading the poor to mad- 
 ness. The opponents of reform were par 
 excellence the large landed proprietors, the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 57 
 
 bulk of the peers who rejected the Reform 
 Bill after it had passed the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 * Still tlieir spells they mutter in the storm, 
 Eetarding long the march of slow reform.' 
 
 Their opposition to the will of the people 
 was producing the effects that might have 
 been anticipated. Violence was afoot. The 
 peojjle and the landowners were locked in 
 deadly strife. 
 
 * While tower and temple at their bidding burn, 
 And the land reels and rocks from side to side, 
 A sailless wreck, with none to save or guide ; 
 A sailless wreck, with multitudes to do 
 Deeds more accursed than pirates' deck ere saw ; 
 A helmless wreck, a famine-frantic crew, 
 All rage and hunger, hand and voice and maw ; 
 And in that rolling wreck, no food, no hope, no law.' 
 
 Such was the condition of the country. 
 No wonder a thoughtful man like John 
 Wharton was occupied with the events 
 around him. 
 
 And how did this terrible deadlock end ? 
 It forms an epoch in our history. Once 
 more the bill passed the Commons ; the
 
 58 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Lords successfully opposed it ; the Whig 
 ministry resigned ; the Duke of Wellington 
 tried to form a Tory ministry, but failed. 
 The Whigs went to the King, and at last 
 wrung from him a promise to create as 
 many new peers as would cast the balance 
 of the House of Lords in favour of the bill. 
 Lord Brougham asked the King to put his 
 consent in writing. The King complied; 
 and the House of Lords sullenly bowed their 
 stubborn heads, and passed the bill. The 
 contest between tiie coronetted peers and 
 the people was decided. The people had 
 won ; but at what price ? The verses above 
 tell. And the multitude had learned the 
 danorerous secret, — the value of violence. 
 This gave a stamp to the times which seem 
 almost incomprehensible to us at the present 
 day ; removed though we are from them by 
 but half a century. 
 
 Leaving his mother and sister safe under 
 the protection of his uncle, and amidst a 
 rural population endeared to the family for 
 their kindness and goodness in times past,
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 59 
 
 as well as present, John Wharton took his 
 staff in hand and went out over the land — 
 to see what he did see. And what he saw 
 was not comforting. The country still 
 seethed in disquiet : and demoralized by 
 the old poor-law, the lower section of the 
 wage classes was in a state disturbing to 
 think of still. He returned much perturbed 
 and decidedly of the opinion of Ebenezer 
 Elliot, the poet, — the author of the 'Corn 
 Law Ehymes.' He often repeated the lines — 
 
 * To live in vain ! to live in pain ! 
 To toil in hopeless sadness ! 
 Is this the doom of God-like man, 
 God of Love and Gladness 1 ' 
 
 The passing of the Eeform Bill in 1832 
 had done much to allay the social hurricane. 
 The new men of the House of Commons 
 were far more the representatives of the 
 people than the members of the 'rotten 
 boroughs ' could pretend to be. The middle 
 classes were represented : and hope animated 
 the lower classes that their turn would 
 follow. The Whig ministry brought with
 
 60 GAYTHORXE HALL. 
 
 the reformed parliament a new increment 
 of power, and set to work with a will to 
 put the nation in order. 
 
 The lull gave him an opportunity of 
 going over to the Continent, where he 
 wandered first through Belgium and then 
 through Normandy. First he went to 
 Antwerp ; and while he gazed with a 
 student's interest upon the grand records 
 of the great industrial epoch, when the 
 wool of England went to the looms of 
 Flanders, he carefully studied the people. 
 Then leaving the wooden sabots as winter 
 drew on, he skated over the canals of 
 Holland, noting, observing, and reflecting. 
 Then as spring approached he made a walk- 
 ing tour through Normandy. Here he 
 was recalled by a letter from his sister, 
 saying that his mother was not so well ; the 
 winter had tried her, and her strength was 
 failinof, and her couo[h more troublesome. 
 
 When John Wharton returned from this 
 tour of observation his opinions were dis- 
 tinctly formed. It is needless to say they
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 61 
 
 diflferecl widely from those entertained by 
 liis uncle. The latter was one of the land- 
 owning party in every sense of the word. 
 He did his duty to his tenants ; and he 
 also knew what was due to the landlord. 
 He thought the Corn Laws a part of the 
 wisest devices ever ordained by heaven for 
 the benefit of man. His nephew, though 
 himself a landowner to a limited extent, 
 did not share the views of his uncle. They 
 differed, and differed widely ; and did not 
 agree to differ. The nephew, as a young 
 man who felt keenly, could not be expected 
 to rest satisfied with a chill neutral position 
 on so l)urning a question. His tempera- 
 ment was ardent. It was a time of change 
 and of active thoudit. The air was filled 
 with reform. The mighty deeds of the 
 reformed parliament were illustrating the 
 wisdom of the Eeform Bill. The people 
 were eager for further reform ; believing it 
 would bring: with it further blessino;s. The 
 position is not difficult to understand. John 
 Wharton held with the masses. His uncle
 
 62 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 held the reformed parliament to be a pack 
 of busy-bodies, who could let nothing alone, 
 but must be tinkering and mending every- 
 where, till they would improve the British 
 Constitution off the face of the earth ; and 
 leave nothing but mob-law : believing this, 
 Squire Wharton was also not likely to be 
 a passive spectator of what was going on 
 around him. He was quite satisfied with 
 what he saw, and what he had seen ; and 
 his own opinions thereon. He could never 
 understand his nephew's craving for wander- 
 ing about to see things for himself. 
 
 ' It is just poor Frank's way over again. 
 It did him no good, and it will do you no 
 good. I've been abroad, I've not been a stay- 
 at-home man. I've been far enough from 
 the old country to see her in comparison with 
 the rest of Europe. I saw how far she 
 was in advance of the other countries when 
 I was in Canada. I came back and found 
 it so. But you,' he would say, ' you only 
 go about, it seems to me, to unsettle your 
 mind. You come back to join the people
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 63 
 
 who think that England of all countries in 
 the worid is in most need of doctoring. 
 Yes, that Dick, Tom, and Hariy can guide 
 the helm of state a precious deal better 
 than the Duke ; the only man who was 
 more than a match for Napoleon. If that 
 is the only outcome of your travel, I think 
 you would have been a great deal better 
 at home.' 
 
 John had his own private opinion that 
 Canada was scarcely the standpoint from 
 which to view Europe, or the best country 
 to contrast with England, but he did not 
 say so ; so he put off his uncle's last argu- 
 ment by replying — 
 
 *Your observations have not been con- 
 fined to England, I am quite ready to 
 admit ; but you must see, uncle, what a 
 difference the tax on corn has made with 
 the people.' 
 
 ' Tax on corn made on the people ! What 
 do you suppose the Canadian farmer thinks 
 about it ? ' he would burst in hotly. ' Do 
 you think he would not sell his corn to
 
 64 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 England ? lias he no grievance as he calls 
 it?' 
 
 ' Well, let him send it here, there are 
 mouths that would be glad to eat it.' 
 
 ' Yes, and how would the farmer pay his 
 rent, do you think, in that case ? The people 
 must share the burden of the land ; and 
 how can they do it better than by paying 
 a fair price for corn ? Thus they share the 
 farmer's burdens. Quite right they should 
 too!' 
 
 ' But then they don't see it in that light, 
 uncle. Perhaps an empty stomach warps 
 their judgment. They think the loaf a 
 little too dear.' 
 
 * Then let them work a little harder 
 for it. What do I see, but a great lot 
 of idle fellows who will never work an 
 honest day's work as long as they can get 
 a living out of the rates. Plenty of 
 them ! ' 
 
 John knew that this was a strong point 
 in his uncle's storehouse of argument, so 
 he would reply after this fashion :
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 65 
 
 ' But will not the new act to do away 
 with the old poor laws, and refuse relief to 
 any man that can work, except in the 
 workhouse, be a cure for the evil ^ and a 
 terrible evil it is, no doubt.' ^ 
 
 ' Another bit of patching and mending. 
 I wonder what will be left of the constitu- 
 tion when this reforming Whig government 
 has done its do. Every evil to be mended 
 right away. I wonder, however, the old 
 country got on so far. Out of the frying- 
 pan into the fire ! Patch, and mend, and 
 reform ! ' 
 
 At this point the Squire's arguments 
 began to get rather mixed, whereupon he 
 would conclude : ' Always the way ; has 
 been, and will be ; the young folks so much 
 wiser than their elders.' 
 
 'But did not Job find wisdom in the 
 youngest of his counsellors ? ' 
 
 ' Job be hanged ! ' was the irreverent 
 answer. * I don't remember who his coun- 
 sellors were ; but if the youngest was the 
 wisest of them, I fancy they were a poor 
 
 VOL. L F
 
 66 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 set. They wouldn't do in these times, 
 however they got on then.' 
 
 It would be clear that at this point the 
 Squire was moving from the ground of 
 argument to the morass of declamation ; 
 and his nephew would beat a retreat. His 
 respect and affection for his uncle over- 
 ruled his strong convictions to the point 
 of retiring: — when he found that he could 
 not yield. 
 
 Such is a sample of the conversations 
 which frequently occurred betwixt uncle 
 and nephew ; both hasty in temperament 
 and decidedly self-willed. Neither seemed 
 at all likely to convert the other. Every 
 fibre of the ex -warrior vibrated in 
 harmony with the policy of the rulers as 
 against the ruled. His nephew, on the 
 other hand, not only was free from preju- 
 dices in favour of what had been, but he 
 recognized the energy of the reformed 
 parliament ; both in what had been achieved, 
 and what was proposed to be done, with 
 every prospect of accomplishment. Despite
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 67 
 
 these collisions the relations of the Squire 
 and his brother's family were as cordial as 
 ever. 
 
 Mrs. AVharton's coug^h was growing^ worse, 
 and at times she was seized with attacks 
 of difficulty of breathing ; and then some 
 dropsy showed itself. It was clear to all 
 that her time upon earth was limited, and 
 very limited. John gave up his travels 
 and settled down at home, where he made 
 an assiduous nurse. Tenderly, carefully, 
 kindly, considerately the brother and sister 
 tended their failino; mother. She in turn 
 looked the position calmly in the face ; she 
 knew death was coming. But as life was 
 closing in upon her, the prospect of rejoin- 
 ing her beloved husband was enlarging, and 
 brightening as the time drew near when 
 they should meet again. If she regretted 
 the fact that she was leaving earth rapidly 
 behind her, it was solely on account of her 
 children. But, she reflected, they can do 
 without me better than many children can 
 their only parent. The lessons I have 
 
 F 2
 
 68 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 tauglit them are like the seed that fell 
 upon good ground. Their characters are 
 formed ; their principles good ; and their 
 faith sound. She sighed sometimes when 
 the thought flashed upon her that she 
 would have liked to have seen whom they 
 would marry. The mother's heart in her 
 yearned after their future happiness. It 
 would be well with them, she felt assured ; 
 and then anxieties would thrust themselves 
 upon her. When feeling fairly well she 
 was pretty hopeful ; when not so well, 
 then the dark troop of imaginings would 
 hover around her. AVhen feeling decidedly 
 ill the horizon of the future was very dark. 
 But in these varying moods, even at the 
 worst, she felt that her training had been 
 the wisest she could have given them ; and 
 that it, added to their native disposition, 
 would enable them to outride any storm that 
 was likely to ha23pen. The waves of sin 
 would never engulf them, she felt ; she 
 hoped ; she prayed. Patient and long-suffer- 
 ino^ too she was. ' How long, Lord ? '
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 69 
 
 was often in her heart, if rarely on her 
 lips. But the disease steadily progressed, 
 and she no longer could sit by the fire, 
 but was confined to bed ; here her children 
 nursed her more attentively than ever. 
 Beyond the daily walk each took from a 
 strictly hygienic point of view, neither son 
 nor daughter was ever seen, even at church. 
 This w^alk, except when something very 
 pressing took them elsewhere, w^as invari- 
 ably up to the Hall, to tell Uncle Edward 
 how his sister-in-law fared. Sometimes he 
 had come to see the invalid ; but he took 
 into his head his visits distressed her, re- 
 minded her of the past, and so agitated 
 her. His natural delicacy of feeling 
 prompted him accordingly to stay away. 
 He was right as to the fact, but in error 
 in his interpretation. His visits did agi- 
 tate the invalid, did remind her of the 
 past ; but she did not think of the past 
 to regret the present ; she thought of the 
 past in connection with the future. His 
 visits recalled to her the time when lier
 
 70 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 husband was with her upon, earth. The 
 thoughts they raised within her were of 
 their being together once more in heaven. 
 
 At last the long-looked-for end came, 
 kte in the autumn of 1834 ; and the loving 
 wife was reunited to her husband in the 
 spirit : while all that was mortal of her was 
 laid beside his remains in Brigstone church- 
 yard, in the family burying-ground of the 
 Whartons. It was a large gathering at the 
 funeral, for the old-fashioned 'bidding' of 
 the AVhartons extended over the wide- 
 spread parish ; and all honoured it, and the 
 deceased lady by attending to it. It was 
 the last act of respect they could pay the 
 dead : and the rough, homely north-country 
 folk have deep buried in them sentiment 
 which they only manifest on special occa- 
 sions, of which a funeral is the chief. She 
 had not bought their respect by gifts, for 
 her charity was limited by her means, but 
 by her walk in life. Every one pointed to 
 Mrs. Wharton as an example to be fol- 
 lowed in the manner in which she had
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 71 
 
 brought up her children, and especially her 
 daughter. 
 
 ' The finest, bonniest girl far and wide,' 
 they said in Yorkshire phraseology, in which 
 * bonny ' means rather mentally attractive ; 
 whereas the Scotch ' bonnie ' applies rather 
 to good looks. Looked at indeed from 
 either point of view, Edith Wharton was 
 in fact * bonny.' Grave, sad, thoughtful, 
 bearing on her features the evidence of her 
 patient vigils, — her long, long watching, in 
 her mourning dress of crape she looked 
 statuesque and even imposing. The rude 
 crowd looked at the brother and sister with 
 feelings of admiration, closely linked with 
 profound respect ; which found ready ex- 
 pression as it broke away from the church- 
 yard to the liberal tea at the Brigstone 
 Inns, the immemorial custom of the place. 
 John and Edith Wharton went home to 
 realize fully aud distinctly that their mother 
 could return to them no more. Keenly as 
 they felt this, they inherited much of the 
 Marston qualities, and occupied themselves ;
 
 72 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 realizing tlie fact that there is no evicting 
 one set of thouglits effectually except by 
 the steady introduction of other thoughts. 
 So Edith went south for a visit to her 
 father's cousin, Lady Barbara Saville, the 
 daughter of the Earl of Horncastle, who had 
 married a Eolleston. The Lady Barbara 
 lived at Great Stanmore, in Middlesex. 
 
 It was a long journey; and when she 
 arrived at her destination, Miss Wharton 
 looked indeed like the motherless girl she 
 was, — greatly in need of some one to look 
 after her. Compared with Brigstone, Stan- 
 more was a semi-tropical climate, though 
 its slopes are comparatively high ; and 
 along the footpaths for w^iicli the meadow 
 lands and pastures of Middlesex and Surrey 
 are famous, the girl regained her wonted 
 vigour, and the hue of health ; albeit in a 
 winter sun. Every one at Stanmore knew 
 the Lady Barbara, and doffed their hat or 
 dropped their curtsey, from the landlord 
 of the Crown to the urchins who slided 
 on the village pond in front of Thirlmere
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 73 
 
 Lodge ; when there was any ice permitting 
 of that amusement. 
 
 John found some occupation at home. 
 When the Grauge Farm was let on lease 
 the brothers decided it w^ould be well to 
 make the lease expire shortly after Edith 
 came of acre, so that John mio'ht act as he 
 pleased ; for Francis knew he would never 
 live to see the lease out. Consequently the 
 tenant of the Grange Farm would leave the 
 ensuing spring, and John consulted his 
 uncle as to what should be done. 
 
 ' I don't like the idea of a Wharton being 
 eno:ao:ed in farminsr ; thou2:h, of course, it is 
 somewhat different when the land is your 
 own. It would be impossible to farm land 
 from another. There is a good deal to be 
 said, Jack, for your taking the land into 
 your own hand. It would keep you near me : 
 and though, my lad, we do see some things 
 differently, I would not like to see less of 
 you. And of course Edith will go with you, 
 till she joins a husband; and that would 
 please me. Perhaps, too, if you shared the
 
 74 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 lot of the landowners a little more it would 
 do your views no harm. Old Holroyd was 
 a good tenant, had saved money; you were 
 never in any anxiety about your rent. But 
 you must have a manager, Jack ; I couldn't 
 have my nephew and heir going to markets 
 to sell corn, or buy cattle ; or going round 
 his stock with a cattle-jobber, or a butcher. 
 That would not do.' 
 
 This difficulty in a managing man was 
 solved by John Wharton mentioning to a 
 friend what his design was ; and how he felt 
 his trouble about a man. 
 
 * Man ! ' he exclaimed ; * I know the very 
 fellow for you. He had a small farm of his 
 own, copyhold ; he had to put a bit of a 
 mortgage on to pay his brothers and sisters 
 out, when his father died. Then the owners 
 were a racketing set, and brother after 
 brother died, at short intervals — those fast 
 Lacklands you may have heard of — and the 
 fines at the death of the lord counted up, till 
 he decided to sell the place ; as he would 
 have to mortgage it up to the hilt other-
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 75 
 
 wise. So he sold it, and after all was paid 
 he had a small balance left ; not enough to 
 make a fresh start : but, as he says, it will 
 be a nest-egg for his savings till he can 
 start ao;ain. Luke Ellwood's his name. A 
 steady, decent fellow, wife to match ; only 
 one child. She is a good manager. Luke 
 would like to make a beginning as a wage- 
 servant somewhere where he was not known. 
 He is the very man for you.' 
 
 So negotiations were set on foot which 
 ended in Luke and his wife and child bring- 
 ing their furniture with them, and settling 
 down at the Grangre Farmhouse. Luke 
 soon found he had got a master to his mind ; 
 and as for John Wharton, he was not long 
 in discovering that his foreman was all he 
 was represented to be ; and could discharge 
 for him most efficiently those portions of his 
 duties as a farmer, which the old Squire 
 regarded as beneath the dignity of a 
 Wharton.
 
 76 GAYTHOHNE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 F W R A S S GRANGE. 
 
 So John Wharton settled down as a 
 gentleman farmer ; and found in his new 
 position much to interest, as well as to 
 occupy him. He was brought into closer 
 contact with national and local interests 
 than he had hitherto been. To receive the 
 rent punctually from a first-rate tenant 
 leaves only a lukewarm interest in agricul- 
 ture. Old Holroyd was a shrewd, calculating 
 farmer, who had early in his lease seen that 
 the position of the Grange Farm and its 
 altitude w^as not favourable to the growing 
 of wheat ; or, indeed, to tillage of any kind. 
 
 * Keep th' land th' green side upmost,' 
 was his maxim. ' We can't grow corn to 
 a profit up here. But th' limestone makes
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 11 
 
 it grand butter land ; nothing can touch 
 limestone for butter. And th' lime makes 
 bone. Good for th' young stock. Grass- 
 farm the Grange ; them's my views. Good 
 markets for butter close at hand ; and 
 handy for th' butcher too. But it all lies 
 i' th' judgment i' th' matter of stock ; ' he 
 would continue, with a twinkle in his keen 
 blue eye, and a half- smile passing over his 
 weather-beaten face. * Anybody can grow 
 corn where th' land and th' climate are 
 right, wi' th' Corn Laws at their back. But 
 all the corn laws i' th' warld won't make th' 
 Grange Farm a corn farm ; not as I can see.' 
 And the old man proved the practical 
 wisdom of his view by prospering, as a 
 waxing balance at his banker's told. So 
 when Luke EUwood came to the farm. Old 
 Holroyd, who had gone into Brigstone, 
 retired (' to live a gentleman,' as is the 
 north-country term for a life not entailing 
 w^ork of any kind), would not unfrequently 
 walk over to see the old place, with which 
 so many memories were linked.
 
 78 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ^ He's got a good head on 'im, tliat 
 manasfer o' th' master's. I wonder how 
 he comes to be takin wage ? The master 
 won't do far wrong by takin' the place into 
 his own han' wi' him there ; if he'll only 
 let him have his head. But the Whartons 
 like their own way ; and the Marston cross 
 has not lessened that bit of 'em. But I'll 
 try a word or two with th' master the first 
 chance I get.' 
 
 It was not long before the opportunity 
 came for the old man expounding his views. 
 ' I've done well by th' place, an' I could 
 like to see you do well too, sir. There's 
 them as would laugh if you didn't succeed ; 
 an' I would not like to see them pleased ; ' 
 was his conclusion. 
 
 ' I suppose I am rather self-willed, Hol- 
 royd ; but I hope I am open to conviction. 
 You made the place pay, you say.' 
 
 ' Aye, I did. It paid me ; an' it will pay 
 you, wi' the man you've got.' 
 
 * Then you think Ell wood's the right 
 man ? '
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 79 
 
 ' You're i' luck wi' him at any rate. An' 
 if you'll only bear i' mind the natar' o' th' 
 farm, and what it's fit for, you'll do right 
 enough.' 
 
 John Wharton pondered over the matter 
 frequently, and asked Luke what he 
 thought. 
 
 ' I'm o' th' ould man's opinion, sir. This 
 place is a grass farm, and nothing else. 
 He's a clivver ould chap, kept his eyes 
 open ; and then he was well backed up wi' 
 his women-folk. You can do no good wi' 
 young stock and butter if the women won't 
 help i' earnest. A good milk-stock all the 
 year round : some of the cows to calve i' the 
 spring, and some at the back-end, when 
 butter is dear ; and a few young stock to 
 fat i' th' summer. I agree wi' old Mr. 
 Holroyd. That's the way he did it : and 
 that is the way for you, sir, if I may say so.' 
 
 This was a long speech for Luke, but he 
 wanted 'to have his say out' when the 
 chance came ; just like old John Holroyd, 
 who could not screw himself up to talk to
 
 80 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 'til' young Squire/ as he was familiarly 
 termed in the neighbourhood, while still a 
 tenant of his. 
 
 'Well, how do you propose to carry it 
 out, Luke ? ' 
 
 ' IVe been turning it over i' my mind, 
 sir. I and the man can look after the 
 stock, indoor and out ; and the wife will see 
 to the milk and butter, if she had a strong 
 lass to help her. If you would just walk 
 over the pastures now and again and see th' 
 stock are all right, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Well, my part of the farming is not going 
 to be very heavy, so far as I can see, Luke.' 
 
 ' I hope not, sir. But you'll have to be 
 there pretty constant, for I can't look after 
 the stock i' the fold and be away both ; 
 leastwise mostly.' It was quite evident 
 Luke was prepared to do his part ; but he 
 wished a clear understanding on the matter 
 with his master. 
 
 John Wharton saw this, and felt his 
 confidence in Luke all the strono;er for 
 taking up this position.
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 81 
 
 ' I cannot expect the plan to succeed if I 
 set the example of shirkiag myself, Luke. 
 It is my affair, and I must look after it. 
 You will have to teach me a good many 
 things, I suspect. I used to think it was 
 very nice of old Holroyd to keep the place, 
 as he calls it, " the green side up," when I 
 went out with my gun; but I cannot say 
 I ever gave my mind to his reasons for 
 avoiding the plough. I knew he was a 
 capital tenant; that was all. We bought 
 a good deal of his stock at the sale, didn't 
 we, Luke ? ' 
 
 * Yes ; a fairish lot, I'm glad to say ; 
 and I wish we'd had more. We'll have to 
 get some more soon, sir.* 
 
 ' Well, I tlioudit it well to be neio;h- 
 hourly. John had always been a good 
 neighbour, as well as a tenant, and been 
 very obliging. I could not do less. And 
 it seems in doing a neighbourly turn I 
 have profited myself. When do you 
 propose to buy some more stock ? ' 
 
 * There's a spring fair at Huddersfield 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 next week. I thought o' seeing if I could 
 find anything to my mind thear; if you 
 could let me have th' money, sir. My 
 little bit's locked up.' 
 
 * Bless me, certainly ; I never thought 
 about that. I will give you so much, and 
 you must keep an account.' 
 
 * I'll keep the accounts, sir, I'se warrant 
 you. It wasn't the want of keeping 
 accounts that sent Annas and me away ,. 
 fra' th' old place. But o' th' keepin' th' 
 accounts i' th' warld wouldn't keep the 
 Lacklands fra' drinking ; and the fines 
 ruined us.' 
 
 ' I am aware of all that, Luke ; though of 
 course I did not like to say anything. I 
 have every confidence in you ; I can assure 
 you. I have been thinking though, that it 
 is hardly fair of you to get no more for 
 doing your work thoroughly than if you 
 only got through it anyhow. If things do 
 well this year, I am going to propose to you 
 to take a per centage on the profits, if they 
 reach a certain figure. What do you say ? '
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 83 
 
 ' Well, I'd like to think it over, sir. I 
 couldn't enter into such a bargain, wi'out 
 on th' other hand taking a share i' th' 
 losses. I couldn't do th' one, and not 
 t'other. I'd like to talk it over wi' th' wife, 
 sir. Women like to be consulted i' these 
 matters when they are concarned : as you'll 
 find when you're married, sir. Excuse my 
 saying so.' 
 
 ' That's your opinion is it, Luke ? I am 
 a bachelor, and therefore can have nothing 
 to say. It is evident you respect your 
 wife's opinion, Luke. You can tell me 
 what your conclusion is after you have 
 talked it over together.' 
 
 Matrimonial relations were evidently sub- 
 jects which had not particularly interested 
 John AVharton, so far at least ; but Luke's 
 remark was not forgotten. 
 
 ' I shall be very glad if this plan will 
 work. Of course I should like the scheme 
 to succeed. As old Holroyd says, there are 
 those who no doubt would enjoy a laugh at 
 my expense if it didn't ; and I cannot say
 
 84 OAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 the Whartons, or the Mars tons either, for 
 that matter, have any liking for being 
 laughed at. We are too thin-skinned for 
 that. I am so thankful too that such a 
 plan would do away with any questionings 
 about the right to grow corn under the 
 existing corn laws, and my private views 
 upon the subject. I certainly should not 
 like to have to grow corn ; and it is a 
 mercy that I can do without doing so.' 
 
 After he had matured his plans, he was 
 telling his uncle about what he had decided 
 upon. 
 
 * I think you are decidedly prudent in 
 following old Holroyd's example ; and the 
 scheme is a sound one. All depends upon 
 Ellwood's judgment in buying the stock. 
 Does old Holroyd seem to think he is equal 
 to it ? ' 
 
 * He tells me so. He has been very good 
 in giving us every information his experi- 
 ence can suggest ; he gave Ell wood, what 
 seems in the face of it, some practical advice 
 the other day.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 85 
 
 ' What was that ? ' asked the Squire, 
 rather eagerly. 
 
 ' He said, never buy any stock from 
 below you, from the lowlands ; they never 
 do so well when brought to a place higher 
 up. Look to the moor-farmers for 
 your stock. Xo matter if they are in 
 poor condition ; they will come out 
 on a good pasture. Always buy from 
 above, never from below ; that was his 
 advice.' 
 
 * Shrewd old dog, Holroyd. He never 
 feathered his nest so well out of the Grange 
 Farm without using his wits. And he left 
 it in capital condition too. Rather too 
 much grass, I fancy.' 
 
 ' The last season has been favourable to 
 tillage I admit, and the arable land did 
 well ; but, I think, as a general rule, old 
 John was right. I am glad the farm is in 
 grass, as I am in no trouble between my 
 convictions and my interests.' 
 
 * What do you mean ? ' 
 
 * Well, I am glad I shall not grow corn ;
 
 86 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 I could not do so with a clean conscience, 
 holding the opinions I do.' 
 
 ' I should fancy not. If you had a field 
 of waving corn of your own, perhaps the 
 corn laws would not look so abominable, 
 I see this scheme will suit you capitally. 
 My hopes that a little practical experience 
 of farming would convert you, are dashed 
 to the ground. Your interests and your 
 opinions will not clash under these circum- 
 stances : ' continued the Squire ; nettled at 
 an arrangement which did away with one 
 argument upon which he had relied, with 
 some confidence, for his nephew's conversion. 
 His nephew thought it well to let this item 
 of the conversation drop ; so instead of 
 answering directly, he replied, 
 
 ' It will give me a good deal to do in 
 the way of seeing after the cattle in the 
 pastures ; I must be out every day. I 
 cannot play at farming, and merely see the 
 men are at w^ork ; as an arable farm would 
 permit.* 
 
 * I suppose so. If the place was in Essex
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 87 
 
 you would ride about and see the men were 
 after the plough, or sowing the seed, or 
 pitching the corn-sheaves. You would 
 realize the value of corn then ! But, how- 
 ever, I am glad your time will be largely 
 occupied. When you come to know a little 
 more about the land and its burdens your 
 eyes will be opened.' 
 
 The Squire was still unquiet ; but was 
 hopeful of his nephew's experience in con- 
 nection with agriculture weaning him from 
 the objectionable views which had taken 
 possession of him. 
 
 ' Have you heard from Edie lately ? ' he 
 went on. ' I hope she will be coming back 
 soon. I want to see her. She will be 
 staying down there till some young fellow 
 will be persuading her to share lots with 
 him.^ 
 
 ' I don't think so, uncle. That idea has 
 not struck me about Edie.' 
 
 ' Very likely not ; but it has me. Now 
 look here, Jack ! you and your sister are my 
 care now that you are left. You can go
 
 88 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 your own way; and will do it, despite 
 anything I might say ' 
 
 * Nay, uncle, that is scarcely fair. I am 
 sure I shall always consult your wishes 
 when possible/ 
 
 * When possible, very likely ; that is, 
 when your own wishes harmonise with 
 mine. But when your principles interfere, 
 an uncle without offspring on an entailed 
 estate does not count for much. Well, 
 well ! I shall let you do your own way. 
 But about Edie, she is of age now. I sup- 
 pose she will be your housekeeper — until, of 
 course, she goes to keep some other young 
 fellow's house. Now I dare say your fine 
 farming scheme will not be very lucrative 
 at first : aud I am not going to have Edie 
 pinched, or short of money when starting 
 housekeeping ; so I am going to double the 
 allowance I have made her hitherto.' 
 
 * It is very handsome of you, I am sure.' 
 
 ' But remember she has not to take it to 
 help in the housekeeping expenses. That 
 is not my design. I want her to have
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 89 
 
 what money she may require for herself, 
 without bothering you for anything. If the 
 plan does not pay, you may not have much 
 to spare. I don't want you to feel her a 
 burden.' 
 
 'I don't think I should ever feel her 
 that, uncle. Besides, she has something of 
 her own from mother. And I have my 
 dock shares. I think we can get along 
 without my having to stint Edie at all.' 
 
 * I dare say you can, my boy ; and I am 
 very glad to hear of the dock shares paying 
 welL Times have been good with me too. 
 Farming has been profitable the last year 
 or two ; and the canal shares pay well. 
 If those confounded railroads do not spoil 
 the canal business. But you know, Jack, 
 I am not o-oingj to hand over the canal 
 shares. Your father and I agreed that I 
 was to keep my grip on them until we, or 
 rather your late mother and I, saw her 
 choice. She is high-spirited ; and high- 
 spirited girls are apt to be headstrong. If 
 I gave up the shares, they would be a
 
 90 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 temptation to some fellows wlio are not 
 desirable. As it is, I am partly master of 
 the situation. He will have to satisfy me 
 as well as her, you know.' 
 
 * That is a matter on which I cannot 
 interfere, uncle. That you will act for the 
 best I know well. I quite understand 
 about increasing the yearly allowance to 
 Edie ; it is very kind and considerate of 
 you, and I thank you, and I have no doubt 
 Edie will too. I am sure if I was not very 
 full of funds, she would do anything sooner 
 than ask me for money. And I may not be 
 successful, though I shall try hard. "It is 
 not every one that can command success," 
 you know, uncle.' 
 
 ' I know ; and I know the rest of the 
 quotation — " But we'll do more, Sempronius, 
 we'll deserve it." I dare say you will do 
 that too. I am sure I wish you may ; both 
 for your sister's sake, and your own. You 
 will write and tell her what I have said. I 
 find writing letters harder work than it 
 used to be.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 91 
 
 ' I will write to her at once ; and T dare 
 say slie will write to you directly, ere long.' 
 
 'Mind you give her my best love, and 
 kindest regards to Cousin Barbara. She 
 used to be a kindly-hearted, gossiping 
 soul ; I fancy she has not altered much. 
 The girl will be full of all the gossip about 
 the court. No harm in that now. Queen 
 Adelaide has made the court fit for the 
 little daughter of the Duke of Kent to live 
 in, if she lives to come to the throne ; as 
 I am sure 1 wish she may. You won't 
 forget.' 
 
 However stoutly John Wharton might 
 adhere to his convictions, and in so far 
 oppose his uncle, he never could be other 
 than sensible of his uncle's thorough good 
 will and his generosity. 
 
 "When Edith Wharton received the letter 
 acquainting her with her uncle's intentions, 
 she told Lady Barbara ; and both admired 
 very much his kind-heartedness and his 
 generosity. 
 
 * The money comes out of the old
 
 92 , GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 KoUeston canal shares, does it not, Edith "? * 
 her hostess asked. ' Was not the old settle- 
 ment lost ? ' 
 
 ' So I have heard ; when Uncle Charles 
 died it could not be found. But it was 
 always held that it made little matter unless 
 Uncle Edward married.' 
 
 ' And very little then, my dear, from 
 what I have understood of your uncle's 
 character. It only makes this difference ; 
 that instead of having the money in your 
 own right, you have to await your uncle's 
 discretion. You know, my dear, you will 
 excuse my saying so, but I think you are 
 quite as well without the money in hand.' 
 
 ' Whatever do you mean. Lady Barbara ? ' 
 said Edith, flashing up. ' I cannot conceive 
 your meaning.' 
 
 ' xAlIi, there it shows, the compound of 
 the Wharton and the Marston ! You are a 
 fine, handsome girl ; but, my dear, you are 
 hasty. I am sure you will admit that is 
 not unfair criticism.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am, I know it, and I do struggle
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 93 
 
 with it ; but I cannot always command my- 
 self as I would like. But wdiat do you mean 
 about it being well that I must await Uncle 
 Edward's discretion about the money?' 
 
 * Well, my dear, a handsome, impulsive 
 girl like you, with money of your own, 
 mio^ht attract admirers — well ! w^ho would 
 not press their attentions upon you while 
 your uncle holds these shares.' 
 
 ' And do you think I would be taken by 
 a man in that way — a bird for the fowler ? ' 
 she replied. * I have all the self-respect of 
 the Whartons and the ' Marstons : to say 
 nothing of my mother's training.' 
 
 She w^as evidently w^ounded deeply ; and 
 yet the Lady Barbara meant what she said 
 in the very kindliest spirit. With her it 
 was nothing more than the truism, that a 
 handsome, w^ell-bred girl, with money of 
 her own, is the aim of the fortune-hunter. 
 
 ' You feel too intensely for your own jieace 
 of mind, my dear, I fear, at times. But 
 come, kiss me, Edith, I did not mean to vex 
 you ; ' went on the good-natured lady.
 
 94 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 * Your Uncle Edward's kindness is all the 
 same, despite my thoughtless remark. It 
 is the sort of advice we older folks are 
 constantly giving to girls. You know 
 old people think they are so wise. I am 
 over sixty, you know ; I am getting quite 
 an old woman.' 
 
 * It is very foolish of me, I know. I am 
 so sorry. You are quite right. But girls 
 sometimes are sensitive about such remarks 
 — some girls more than others. I am sure 
 I have never thought of marriage, though 
 I know Stephen Oldfiekl has an eye to me. 
 The little conceited creature ! ' 
 
 ' Then, my dear, if you have not thought 
 about the matter, my remark was the more 
 excusable. You will have to think about 
 it, my dear. You see, if you don't ; the 
 gentlemen think about you evidently. Who 
 is this Stephen Oldfiekl ? ' 
 
 ' I wish I had not mentioned his name. 
 He lives at Orton Hall, a few miles away, 
 and pays court to Uncle Edw^ard. John 
 does not care much about him. He says he
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 95 
 
 is a cunning, artful, self-seeking, sleek -haired 
 humbug/ 
 
 'My clear, that is very strong language 
 to use about a neighbour. What makes 
 John say so ? ' 
 
 * He does not like him. He says he is a 
 Jacob — a smooth man. iVnd John detests 
 Jacobs. I can t like Mr. Oldfield ; though 
 he is always very kind and neighbourly.' 
 
 ' I am afraid John has prejudices, my 
 dear. We should always avoid prejudices 
 above all things. You know, if we hold 
 prejudices we may be very unfair to people 
 whom we may come to like and respect, 
 when we know more about them. We 
 should always be open to conviction. I am 
 sure Mr. Oldfield must have some good 
 points about him, else your Uncle Edward 
 would not approve of him, or associate 
 with him.' 
 
 It was quite clear that Lady Barbara was 
 fully impressed with the wisdom of elders, 
 as was natural, when she herself was ad- 
 vancing in years.
 
 96 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' Oh, lie is an active magistrate, and a 
 staunch true-bhie Tory. He agrees with 
 uncle against reform, and all other political 
 questions. John says he ought to know 
 better.' 
 
 * But, my dear, I am afraid John is wrong 
 in his extreme views. From what you tell 
 me, I fear he is inclined to be a reformer — 
 one of those persons who wish to overturn 
 society ; as I understand. I am like your 
 uncle, I don't like these views. I wish 
 John would give them up. Tell him so, 
 from me, when you get home.' 
 
 Edith thought her brother was not very 
 likely to be influenced by the message, but 
 she promised to deliver it ; and as the old 
 lady seemed to think she had accomplished 
 a piece of far-sighted diplomacy which would 
 have great results, she did not like to 
 undeceive her complacent satisfaction. 
 Next day she wrote a long letter to her 
 uncle, in wdiich she thanked him very 
 prettily for his considerate generosity ; 
 telling him too, that in a few days more
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 97 
 
 she would be back again at Brigstone, well 
 and strong. 
 
 Lady Barbara was very sorry to part with 
 her handsome young relative, who had 
 become a general favourite amons^ the 
 families at Stanmore and the neighbour- 
 hood ; and made her promise not to be very 
 long in repeating her visit. 
 
 ' I am getting an old woman, you know, I 
 cannot expect to see you often. Come again 
 as soon as you can. There is the horn of the 
 coach. Wrap up and keep yourself warm.' 
 
 The coach pulled up at the Crown, 
 and Miss Wharton took her place inside, 
 while her travelling trunk was placed on the 
 top. Then the coachman started his horses 
 at a gallop at the hill on the road leading 
 out to Watford, and Stanmore was quickly 
 out of sight. 
 
 As she crossed the Midlands Miss Whar- 
 ton's thoughts often reverted to her journey 
 of a few months before. Then all was j)re- 
 paring for winter ; now the winter was over 
 and all were looking for spring. When she 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 
 
 travelled the road before she was under the 
 cloud of a great grief, worn out with long 
 watching ; now she was in vigorous health 
 and buoyant with hope, full of her brother's 
 schemes. Sometimes she felt as if she was 
 wanting in respect to her mother's memory 
 to forget the past ; but she recognized it 
 would neither be right nor proper to brood 
 over it. Her elastic temperament rebounded 
 from the depression of the past — and she 
 felt it was not wrong, not failing in loyalty 
 to her mother's memory, to look forward to 
 the future. 
 
 When she arrived at Sheffield the Squire's 
 carriage was there to meet her, and her 
 brother with it of course. When they had 
 reached a private room, her brother took 
 her in his arms and kissed her ; while a long 
 lingering look told him she was fully re- 
 stored to health. 
 
 ' You have indeed made good use of 
 your visit, Edie. I must write and thank 
 Lady Barbara for the care she has taken of 
 you ; that is the least I can do.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 99 
 
 * I have a message for you from her ; it 
 will keep. I will tell you it when you get 
 home. Don't bother about it now 1 ' 
 
 He did not bother : his utter want of 
 curiosity as to its nature would have sadly 
 discomposed the good lady had she seen 
 him. It did not suggest that her message 
 would have any very magical effect in 
 altering his views, when he did hear it. 
 
 ' How is Uncle Edward ? ' she went on. 
 ' And the Pryors ; are they well ^ ' 
 
 ' Uncle has had a little gout, which has 
 made him slightly irascible, otherwise he is 
 very well. The Pryors too are well ; and, 
 like him, are glad to hear of your return.' 
 
 Such and such-like was the staple of 
 their conversation, as might be expected 
 when one member of a family had been 
 away in the olden time. Now it would be 
 something of this kind. ' How late you 
 are ! What was it '? ' ' Oh, we had to wait 
 at Market Harboro' for some horse-boxes to 
 be put on, and then at Derby for the Bristol 
 train.' * What a nuisance ! Are your traps 
 
 H 2
 
 100 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 all safe ? Have you got an evening paper ? 
 This is the newspaper train. Oh, you've got 
 the " Globe." All right ! Your uncle has 
 had the fidgets : his doctor calls it the gout. 
 It makes him deucedly nasty I know. How 
 was the old girl when you left her ? ' From 
 which it would appear, that though modern 
 means of travelling are much more expe- 
 ditious and agreeable than a stage coach ; 
 the conversation of the present is not so 
 conspicuously superior to the talk of a by- 
 past generation. 
 
 On their arrival at Fowrass Grange their 
 conversation turned upon the new scheme, 
 and all that each intended. 
 
 * I am going to take a share in the in- 
 terest, Jack. I am going with you when it 
 is fine to see the cattle in the pastures. 
 And I want to learn to make butter. I 
 wonder if Mrs. Ellwood will be pleasant, and 
 let me go in to the dairy ? ' 
 
 *I don't know about Mrs. Ellwood, and 
 her private views ; but I do know your 
 Uncle Edward will object to it. You are
 
 GAYTHOR^JE HALL. 101 
 
 a Wbarton, you know. He found my turn- 
 ing farmer rather a large pill to swallow ; it 
 took several gulps to get it down. But I 
 fancy be will never manage such a bolus as 
 you turning dairymaid, and making butter.' 
 
 * Dear Uncle Edward, he is so good. But 
 he is so impressed with what belongs to the 
 Whartons. I can't do it against his know- 
 ledge ; however shall I manage it 1 ' 
 
 'Female diplomacy will do it, Edie, I'll 
 be bound ; if it can be done at all' And 
 somehow or other the young lady did con- 
 trive to overcome her uncle's objection, — 
 to the extent of making the butter required 
 for her brother and herself; with no little 
 pride in her success. Still to have sent her 
 uncle a pat would not have been a politic 
 step.
 
 102 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 THE EEFOEM MILL GRINDS. 
 
 The most frequent visitor at Fowrass 
 Grange was the Rev. Henry Pryor, rector 
 of Brigstone. His visits were no less frequent 
 than welcome. He was a "parish priest" 
 indeed, as his flock called him, for he knew 
 his parishioners. 
 
 There was a sprinkling of dissent in 
 Brigstone, but it was not enough to leaven 
 the parish ; and there was no chapel except 
 a miniature one on the edge of the Satanstoe 
 collieries. At every house the rector was 
 welcome, and he had been an especial 
 friend of Mrs. Wharton's in her last illness. 
 A casual observer would note that he 
 seemed naturally fitted for his calling, 
 and his ordination vow was not a mere
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 103 
 
 matter of form. He was an Oxford man, 
 and had naturally a good deal of the spirit 
 of the Tractarian movement which sprang 
 up after he was at Queen's College. This 
 protest against the spiritual deadness of. 
 the Church of England had attracted the 
 attention of earnest men throughout the 
 land, who wished to be somethins: more 
 than the mere civil servants of the State, 
 with certain duties to discharge in return 
 for their stipends. This was not the 
 view of Mr. Pryor. He had much of the 
 enthusiasm of the apostolic age, and laboured 
 amongst his people as one who should give 
 an account of his stewardship. During Mrs. 
 Wharton's illness he constantly visited her, 
 read to her, and comforted her. But he 
 made no exception to his rule in thus 
 ministering to the dying lady at Fowrass 
 Grange ; the meanest and poorest of his 
 parishioners shared with her his ministra- 
 tions. When then the Tractarian move- 
 ment sprang up, and the glowing fire of 
 enthusiasm swept through the ranks of
 
 104 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the Anglican party ; and church building, 
 church extension, and parish visitation 
 were the outward form of the inward feel- 
 ing ; Mr. Pryor rejoiced. Especially he 
 approved of its design to charm, to win 
 proselytes ; its avoidance of all aggres- 
 sion. It came not to plunge a parish 
 into discord ; but to unite it in the 
 bonds of peace, as well as of earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 In John Wharton the rector found a 
 parishioner with whom he could hold con- 
 verse as a scholar. Thus there was a double 
 tie betwixt him and the inmates of Fowrass 
 Grange. When Mrs. Wharton died, the 
 memory of his kindness to her lived in 
 the breasts of her children. It was not 
 merely the force of habit which caused him 
 to continue his visits to Fowrass Grange. 
 A strong friendship had sprung up betwixt 
 him and John Wharton. He was glad to 
 have a cultured, college - bred man for a 
 parishioner ; both personally and as the 
 spiritual head of the parish. The rector
 
 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 105 
 
 thought his parishioner could be made 
 useful, and ought to be utilized. 
 
 * I want you very much to do something 
 for me, AYharton/ he said one day. 
 
 'What is it, Mr. Pryor ? I will oblige 
 you if I can ; you know that.' 
 
 * Yes ; but this is a great matter. T want 
 you to think it over before deciding.' 
 
 'Whatever can it be? You seem so 
 serious ! ' 
 
 * I am very serious indeed. I want you 
 to be a guardian of the jDoor under this 
 new poor law. I cannot make a slight 
 matter of it.' 
 
 ' What amount of duty will it entail ? 
 You know I have taken the Grange Farm 
 into my own hands. This will make con- 
 siderable demands upon my time. I must 
 know if I can afford the time to do the 
 duties properly, before I can entertain the 
 proposition.' 
 
 * The board-day will be once a fortnight, 
 and be held at Wybrow, where the work- 
 house is to be for our little union. I
 
 106 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 propose to be one guardian, tliougli it is 
 a secular matter ; and I think you are the 
 most suitable person for the other repre- 
 sentative of the parish. We will have to 
 meet the magistrates, who are ex-officio 
 members. Your uncle is one, and Mr. 
 Oldfield is another, and Canon Wordsworth, 
 and one or two more. There will be a 
 good deal to do at first till we get the 
 thing into working order ; and, if possible, 
 men of position and education must be 
 secured, in order to act firmly with the 
 rough fellows who fastened themselves on 
 the rates under the old law, — the " charge- 
 able labourers " as they are called.' 
 
 * Those fellows that Uncle Edward in- 
 veighs so terribly against.' 
 
 'The same. They will form a great 
 difficulty ; especially as the premises we 
 have secured as a workhouse will require 
 a lot of alterations before being fit to be 
 occupied ; and you see we will not be able 
 to offer them "the house," the " Whio- 
 Bastille" as they call it, until it is ready.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 107 
 
 'They must be firmly dealt with, else 
 we will be beset with difficulties. I will 
 think it over ; and it may be well to sound 
 Uncle Edward on the matter.' 
 
 * That will be a proper step. How soon 
 do you think you can give me an answer ? 
 There is to be a meeting of the rate-payers 
 at the latter part of next week ; will you 
 be able to let me know your decision by 
 then ? I should much like to have you and 
 myself proposed at the meeting.' 
 
 'I will give the subject my best atten- 
 tion. It is a grave matter to decide upon ; 
 as, if I put my hand to the plough, I can- 
 not very well withdraw it.' 
 
 The subject engaged John Wharton's 
 thoughts very gravely. In the discussions 
 he had heard on the matter he had taken 
 no more than a casual interest. Not having 
 any formed views as to where he should 
 reside or what he should do, he had not 
 given his attention much to the subject. 
 But now, as Mr. Pry or presented it to him, 
 its full importance forced itself upon him.
 
 108 GAYTHOBNE HALL. 
 
 He was at heart a reformer. When then 
 an opportunity came to take a practical 
 share in the work of reform, he could not 
 well stand aloof. That was one side of the 
 question. Then came in the personal ele- 
 ment. If Mr. Pryor seriously wished him 
 to assume the duties of guardian, he could 
 scarcely refuse him. The post was not one 
 to be coveted ; it involved a good deal 
 of labour, and a certain amount of odium. 
 The ' chargeable labourers ' were like leeches 
 who had once tasted blood, they kept on 
 sucking. Having once established them- 
 selves on the rates, there was no prospect 
 of readily driving them oflf. There was 
 no great amount of these aggressive paupers 
 in Brigstone, the Whartons had prevented 
 that evil ; but in the other parishes, which 
 formed the rest of the union, the evil was 
 considerable. 
 
 In order to enable the reader to under- 
 stand the proposed change, which has been 
 a matter of great national importance, a 
 brief historical summary is essential. The
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 109 
 
 duty of the overseer of the poor in each 
 parish was to find work for the unemployed ; 
 or, if that could not be done, to find them in 
 food. This had been established by acts 
 dating from the time of Elizabeth. Sturdy 
 vagabonds, now called vagrants, were a 
 greater nuisance then than they are now. 
 Consequently stern measures were adopted 
 to repress them. Each parish kept its 
 inmates to itself, as far as possible ; and 
 wandering was made decidedly unpleasant. 
 But if a parish could not find work for its 
 poor, they could not be allowed to die of 
 hunger. Starvation could not be per- 
 mitted. Consequently * workhouses ' were 
 instituted, where the overseers of the parish 
 could 'take order for setting the poor to 
 work.' 
 
 By a bloody code of laws crime was 
 repressed according to the light of that 
 day. In 1796 the device was hit upon 
 of eking out the wages of the poor from 
 the parochial rate, otherwise called ' the 
 allowance system.' It was a benevolent
 
 110 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 design ; but its outcomes merely furnislied 
 one more illustration that a certain un- 
 savoury place is paved with good inten- 
 tions. This ' partial payment of wages out 
 of the poor rates ' became in time an 
 intolerable nuisance. Idle fellows would 
 not, and pleaded they could not, find work ; 
 and threw themselves on the rates. Thus 
 subsidized, they poached, got up rows, and 
 were the terror of all around them ; where 
 they were strong in number, and the rate- 
 payers weak or timid. In some places the 
 farmers forced down wages in order that 
 the working class might be aided by ' the 
 allowance system,' when the other rate- 
 payers of the parish were wealthy enough 
 to offer temptation. In other parishes ' the 
 chargeable labourers' became so numerous 
 that farms were unlet ; men simply would 
 not apply for them because the rates were 
 so heavy. The device weighed so heavily 
 on the land that even the Corn Laws could 
 not secure tenants. A whole brood of 
 pauperism had grown up over the land,
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. Ill 
 
 w'hich constantly received recruits ; but 
 never furnished any free labourers, or 
 * independent labourers/ as those were 
 termed who kept themselves off the 
 rates. ' Once a pauper always a pauper/ 
 was the saying. The parish rate for the 
 poor was the equivalent of the pension- 
 list of the aristocracy. The evil became 
 so great that some leading reformers de- 
 spaired of remedying it in any other way 
 than by the entire abolition of the poor 
 rates ; and so leaving starvation and private 
 charity face to face with each other. St. 
 Paul's maxim, ' If ye will not work, neither 
 shall ye eat,' was, however, scarcely com- 
 patible with the instincts of the nineteenth 
 century. A commission appointed to in- 
 quire into the matter decided that the 
 scheme was ' destructive to the industry, 
 forethought, and honesty of the labourers, 
 to the wealth and morality of the employers 
 of labour and the owners of property, and 
 to the mutual goodwill and happiness of 
 all.' This sweeping condemnation was
 
 112 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 endorsed by all classes of society except ' tlie 
 chargeable labourers ' themselves : who, how^ 
 ever, not being represented in parliament, 
 were legislated for. And for this legislation 
 they were not thankful. 
 
 By the new act parishes were grouped 
 into unions ; each union had its workhouse ; 
 which really became in time an asylum for 
 those incapable of working, rather than the 
 house where work was found for the un- 
 employed : retaining its old name when 
 serving quite an opposite end. For the 
 ao:ed and infirm outside the workhouse, or 
 those temporarily compelled to apply to 
 the rates, a relieving- officer was appointed ; 
 the old overseers of the poor only acting 
 in emergencies. To work the scheme, the 
 ratepayers of each parish elected so many 
 guardians of the poor to represent them on 
 the Board ; while the magistrates were ex- 
 officio guardians by virtue of their position. 
 To supervise all there was a Central Board 
 in London. Contracts with medical men 
 for the workhouses, and the ' districts/ as the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 113 
 
 divisions of the Unions were called, to each 
 of which a medical officer was appointed, had 
 to be sanctioned by the central authority ; 
 as were all other important matters. 
 
 Such central control limited the local 
 powers, and acted as a wholesome restraint 
 on local opinion in many ways. It was one 
 of the greatest of the reforms ; and its 
 effects have been admitted by all to have 
 been most beneficial. AVithout it Pharaoh's 
 seven lean kine would before long have 
 eaten Pharaoh's seven fat kine ; and the 
 fat kine saw what was coming. 
 
 One great difficulty in the old arrange- 
 ment was 'settlements.' Vagabondism was 
 sternly repressed by it; and only handi- 
 craftsmen who had served a regular appren- 
 ticeship to their craft were allowed to travel 
 in search of work according to the demand 
 for labour, known as 'journeymen.' Un- 
 skilled labour had no encouraijement sfiven 
 it to wander in search of employment. But 
 men would and did wander ; or perhaps ran 
 away from home for some social offence or 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 petty crime. When one of these wanderers 
 became chargeable to the rates his ' settle- 
 ment ' was searched out, and he was returned 
 to his proper parish. Great cost was in- 
 volved in so returning a pauper, often with 
 a wife and family, to his native ' parish ; ' 
 and far greater sums were spent in lawsuits 
 by the respective parishes. By the new 
 scheme the pauper would be relieved on the 
 spot, and the amount charged to his own 
 parish. The machinery of this large com- 
 prehensive Act, involving all England and 
 Wales, enabled such matters to be carried 
 out equitably and peacefully. 
 
 Such then was the huge social transform- 
 ation in which the Rev. Henry Pryor wished 
 his neighbour and parishioner, John Whar- 
 ton, to take a share. Educated men were 
 essential to the w^orking of this new machine ; 
 though others might serve as Guardians 
 when once all was got thoroughly into 
 working order. To ' the chargeable labourer ' 
 the whole thing was iniquitous class legisla- 
 tion ; the Board of Guardians was unmiti-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 115 
 
 gated tyranny ; and the workhouses were 
 * Whig Bastilles.' He saw clearly that ' no 
 out-door relief for the able-bodied,' the soul 
 of the new Poor Law, was the death-knell of 
 idleness ; and he did not like it. However 
 desirable for the rest of society, it was a 
 change of which he could not be expected 
 to approve. But the rest of society being 
 not only the majority, but holding the 
 purse-strings, the pauper had to submit. 
 There was no longer * parish pay ' except at 
 the discretion of the Board of Guardians. 
 This did not meet his views at all. Idle 
 fellows who spent their earnings in drink as 
 quickly as possible in order to qualify for 
 ' parish pay ; ' lawless fellows who poached 
 and often stole ; idle dissolute women who 
 would do anything but work ; saw with 
 dismay that a change was at hand. How- 
 ever good for them other people might hold 
 the prospect, it had no attractions for the 
 class who were mainly to be benefitted by 
 the new Act. The old plan suited them very 
 
 I 2
 
 116 ' GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 well, and they had no goodwill towards the 
 new Poor Law. 
 
 In the half-century ending 1833 the 
 population had increased 75 per cent., while 
 the Poor Law levy had in the time increased 
 300 per cent. It was high time the fat 
 kine were lookiner about them. Even the 
 Duke of Wellington, staunch Tory and 
 opponent of reform as he was, supported the 
 measure in the House of Lords. 
 
 Thunderstorms clear the air ; but in the 
 mean time thunderstorms are decidedly 
 unpleasant. Such was the thunderstorm to 
 which Mr. Pryor invited John Wharton to 
 give him his assistance as regards Brigstone, 
 and the Union to which it belonged. John 
 Wharton spoke to his uncle about his being 
 a Guardian. 
 
 ' Capital ! ' answered the old Squire ; 
 ' nothing could possibly be better. You are 
 just the sort of man for an elected Guardian 
 to work with the magistrates. The farmers 
 are too dense, they would never be put into 
 motion ; and there is a great deal to be done.
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. Il7 
 
 I am very glad Mr. Pryor thought of it. 
 And another thing, nephew mine, when you 
 come to mix with the poor officially as a 
 Guardian it will cure you of some of your 
 romantic notions. You will cool down into 
 a o'ood upholder of society in time. You 
 will not be such a fiery reformer, you'll 
 find; 
 
 ' Well, suppose I do, — though I am not 
 so sanguine of my conversion, — you must 
 admit that this piece of the reformed parlia- 
 ment's work is acceptable to you,' he replied 
 rather mischievously ; knowing the Squire's 
 susceptibility to any insinuation of change 
 in his views. 
 
 ' Well, something had to be done ; we 
 could not go on as we were. The Whigs 
 were in power, and of course must deal with 
 the matter. I dare say we will find plenty 
 of difficulties in carrying it out. It will be 
 time to crow when we see how it works. I 
 am oiad you are o-oino; to bear a baud. The 
 Wybrow Board of Guardians promises to be 
 as cfood a team as any I can hear of. You
 
 118 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 and the Kector will hobnob with the magis- 
 trates capitally/ 
 
 * I am heartily glad you approve of it, 
 uncle. I w^as undecided what to do ; now 
 I shall call and tell Mr. Pryor without delay 
 that I am willing to serve.' 
 
 The Kector was delighted to hear his 
 decision : and when the meetinc^ of the rate- 
 payers came off, the two were proposed and 
 elected unanimously. Not only that, but 
 the people of Brigstone w^ere delighted that 
 Mr. Wharton was going to take an interest 
 in parish matters. 
 
 ' Eh, but I'm fine an' glad that gentle- 
 folks like til' parson and Mr. Wharton are 
 going to tak' this job i' hand. I were so 
 feared as it would break down i' th' work- 
 ing. We ratepayers won't be long i' seeing 
 the last of our friend " the charfreablc 
 labourer," who'se bin a charge to us lang 
 eneauf, to my mind. His back's th' best 
 sight of 'im i' oor eyes ; ' was the comment 
 of one sturdy farmer. 'Mr. AVharton will 
 stand by th' magistrates, I reckon ; but
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 119 
 
 there'll be some sharp work afore these 
 *' chargeable labourers" '11 be gotten rid of/ 
 
 Nor was the farmer far out in his fore- 
 cast ; there was some 'sharp work.' 
 
 The first meeting: of the local Wit ten- 
 agemot, otherwise the Wybrow Board of 
 Guardians, was held in the rooms of the 
 King's Head, the best hotel in the town ; a 
 roomy place, well adapted for the purpose. 
 The magistracy mustered in strong force, 
 and every one of the elected Guardians, 
 the representatives of the ratepayers, was 
 present. The senior magistrate present, 
 Canon Wordsworth, a man of great energy 
 and decision of character, was voted to the 
 chair ; and a very capable chairman he was 
 too. After the vice-chairman had been 
 elected, the Canon, as chairman, made a few 
 brief but appropriate remarks. He com- 
 menced by pointing out what a vast measure 
 of reform the new Poor Law was, and how 
 necessary it had become to deal firmly with 
 the waxing abuse of ' parish pay.' Had the 
 old plan continued long, the burden of
 
 120 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 pauperism would have become intolerable. 
 ' We must act, gentlemen/ lie insisted, ' with 
 firmness and decision, as well as with discre- 
 tion/ He was glad to see the direct repre- 
 sentatives of the ratepayers joining hands 
 with the magistrates in dealing with the 
 immense subject. Concluding, ' Gentlemen, 
 there is a very great deal to be done, and I 
 think we had better start at once to do it 
 than waste time in talking about it. What 
 is the first business, Mr. Clerk ? ' 
 
 *The first matter, Mr. Chairman, is to 
 deal with the applicants for out-door relief ; 
 some of whom are very noisy outside.' 
 
 The first applicant was a widow, who 
 held up her hands stifi*ened by rheumatism 
 as evidence that she could not maintain 
 herself. It was decided that she was a fit 
 subject for out-door relief, so her name was 
 entered upon the relieving officer's list. 
 Next came a cripple who did any odd job 
 that he could find. His name went down. 
 Then came in a burly ruffian, Will Da] ton, 
 a 'chargeable labourer' of old standing,
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 121 
 
 who was a noted poacher ; a bully who was 
 dreaded by the public-houses, their keepers, 
 and their frequenters ; a fellow who was a 
 first-rate hedger and ditcher, thresher, and 
 thatcher — when he pleased : but this last 
 was verv seldom. He had lonof decided 
 
 J o 
 
 that he would have a tussle with the new 
 Board. ]\Jost of them knew him well. The 
 magistrates knew him for a bold, desperate 
 poacher, greatly detested by their game- 
 keepers ; the farming element knew him for 
 a man who would steal a stake whenever he 
 got a chance, who pulled down their fences 
 for firewood ; all the more delighted when 
 by doing so their cattle could get out at the 
 opening, and stray. He stepped forward 
 with alacrity, looked about him with a keen 
 discriminating gaze, and took the measure 
 of his company. His name he gave in a loud 
 offensive tone, which the Chairman marked. 
 
 ' William Dalton, what do you desire ? ' 
 he asked, with a certain edge in his tone in 
 return. 
 
 ' Summat to eat. That's what I want.'
 
 122 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' Then why do not you go and get it ? ' 
 ' Haven't got any brass.' 
 ' Then you must go and earn some 
 money.' 
 
 ' Can't find ought t' do.' 
 ' You are able to work.' 
 
 * Aye ; I can work, if I could get any.' 
 
 ' Why will not the farmers employ you ? ' 
 ' 'Cause they've getten a spite agin' me.' 
 ' Is that the whole truth, Mr. Pearson ? ' 
 
 asked the chairman. ' Let us have the 
 
 facts, please.' 
 
 Mr. Pearson was one of the elected 
 
 Guardians of Wybrow. 
 
 ' It is not, in my opinion,' was the answer. 
 
 * Dalton can work, and do as good a day's 
 
 work as any man in Wybrow ; but the 
 
 farmers will not employ him. He knows 
 
 why well enough.' 
 
 * What do you say to that, Dalton ? ' 
 
 'I know nought about what he means. 
 He owns I can do a day's work.' 
 
 * Then you know nothing of the farmers' 
 objections to employing you 1 '
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 123 
 
 ' It's nought but spite,' he replied 
 savagely. 
 
 The chairman looked at Mr. Pearson, as 
 much as to say — * What is it ? ' 
 
 ' He robs their fences on his way home. 
 And they suspect he takes corn away in 
 his pockets after he has been threshing ; 
 although none of them like to search 
 him. They prefer not to employ him ; to 
 keep clear of him altogether.' 
 
 * It's a lee ! ' was the comment of the 
 accused. 
 
 * You must not speak like that here, my 
 man,' said the chairman. ' You are not 
 dealing with a parish overseer now ; but a 
 body of gentlemen who are met to carry 
 out the law.' 
 
 Dalton was not in the least abashed. 
 ^I'm clamming.* I want summat to 
 eat.' 
 
 * Then I am afraid you must pledge your 
 credit ; and see if you can find some one to 
 
 * Lancashire ' clemming,' a well-known word, which 
 means ' hun serins:.'
 
 124 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 trust you ; we cannot relieve you. Bat 
 I will take the sense of tlie Board.' 
 
 The sense of the Board was unmistakable ; 
 every hand was held up against allowing 
 the applicant any relief. 
 
 ' I am afraid you must apply elsewhere, 
 William Dalton ; the Board do not regard 
 you as a proper person to receive relief. 
 The able-bodied poor can have no relief 
 given them out of the house. If you will 
 make an application to be admitted to the 
 workhouse, it will be entertained.' 
 
 ' What ! the Bastille ovver thear ? ' nod- 
 ding his head in a certain direction. ' Fll 
 do nought o' th' sort.' 
 
 ' Then we can do nothing for you. What 
 is the next case, clerk ? ' 
 
 ' I'll let ye see whether yo can do 
 nought for me, or not. I'll stop here till 
 ye gie me summat,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Porter, remove this man ! ' said the 
 chairman without hesitation. 
 
 ' Come away,' said the official, putting 
 his hand on the ruffian's collar.
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 125 
 
 * I'll do nought of the sort for yo, nor 
 nought like ye ! ' was the gruff answer. 
 
 *Take hhn away, porter,' said the chairman. 
 
 The porter tried, but failed signally. 
 
 The scene was one which could not be 
 tolerated ; an example must be made of 
 the ruffian. The pohce were called in from 
 outside, and after a desperate struggle, in 
 which one policeman got badly bitten, 
 Dalton was handcuffed and disabled. 
 
 * Lock him up, sergeant ; and bring him 
 before us to-morrow mornino^. We will 
 deal with him then.' Dalton was removed. 
 
 ' You see, gentlemen, what we have to 
 deal with. That is a specimen ; but we 
 will make an example of the ruffian to- 
 morrow. What is the next case, clerk ? ' 
 
 The business was got through quickly 
 and yet properly ; as is usually the case 
 where there is a really efficient chairman, 
 at once clear-headed and decided. 
 
 There were one or two more of the Will 
 Dalton type, but they were quieted down 
 considerably by the sight of that hero in
 
 126 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the hands of the police ; who were not the 
 only ones who had suffered in the struggle. 
 The spectacle cowed them, and they con- 
 fined their remonstrances to pleading they 
 were ' clamming ' ; while two took the ofier 
 of the house. 
 
 'He is a hard-hearted auld tyrant, th' 
 Canon. He wadn't let the uthers giv' us 
 ought ; if they wer' inclined. But mebbe 
 some of these days ther'll be a row. And 
 there's no swearing to slugs. His day may 
 come.' Such was the expression and half- 
 threat of one of the baffled applicants. 
 But they felt that the Board was going to 
 be master. If the Guardians stood firm, 
 they were powerless. It would be no use 
 to try violence. They were in a hopeless 
 minority. 
 
 Next day the Canon presided at the 
 madstrates' meetinor. Will Dalton was 
 charged with assaulting the police in the 
 discharge of their duty. The charge was 
 heard ; the Bench carefully deliberated 
 before the decision was pronounced.
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 127 
 
 ' William Dalton/ said the Canon, witli 
 slow speecli telling of fixed determination, 
 * you have committed a very grave offence. 
 You came to defy a very important law, 
 which must be carried out firmly. You 
 resisted the officers ordered to remove you : 
 one of whom was severely injured by you. 
 It is our duty to pronounce an exemplary 
 sentence. You, and those who hold your 
 views, must be taught a lesson ; you must 
 go to prison for six months with hard 
 labour.' 
 
 For a moment Dalton was staggered by 
 the sentence ; then he again resorted to 
 violence, which was useless. 
 
 ' A specimen, gentlemen, of what we have 
 to deal with. We must do our duty. 
 Anything else on the list, sergeant ? ' 
 
 The ' chargeable labourers ' of the Wybrow 
 Union took the lesson to heart.
 
 128 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 HAVE ALL MAIDENS HEARTS TO LOSE ? 
 
 Miss Edith Wharton, having taken up 
 lier position as her brother's housekeeper, 
 her neighbours felt themselves bound to 
 make the proper calls, in acknowledgment 
 thereof, at Fowrass Grange. Convention- 
 ality carries with it some advantages, if it 
 has its drawbacks. If a gentleman con- 
 tracts a mesalliance^ the ladies of the neigh- 
 bourhood do not call upon his wife. By 
 this simple negative act she is told in the 
 most emphatic manner that she is a black 
 sheep ; and her neighbours will have none 
 of her. Yet the act is without offensiveness. 
 By simply declining to call she is given to 
 understand in an unmistakable manner 
 that she is a social pariah. It is useless for
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 129 
 
 the victim to resent the attitude. She is 
 powerless. She might as well attempt to 
 influence the Fates. When the ladies of a 
 locality have decided not to visit a new- 
 comer, they are inflexible, unrelenting, un- 
 yielding. The new-comer may live down 
 the opposition if she belong to a sufiiciently 
 long-lived family, and can endure the long 
 period of probation requisite for her end. 
 Calls tell of new positions. So her friends 
 called upon Miss Wharton. 
 
 One day a carriage drove up to Fowrass 
 Grange, drawn by two red-roan horses. It 
 was very evident the owner of the conspi- 
 cuous pair was fully conscious that he was 
 somebody ; at least in and near Brigstone. 
 So he was too ! Stephen OldfielJ, of Orton 
 Hall, was a squire and a magistrate of con- 
 siderable means, and good social position. 
 His father died young, and at an early age 
 Stephen became the head of the Oldfields. 
 The Oldfields thought pretty well of them- 
 selves ; and in this respect Stephen mani- 
 fested no degeneracy. He had remained a 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 GA.YTHORNE HALL. 
 
 bachelor so far ; whether because he could 
 not induce any of the fair sex to take him 
 at his own estimate, or because he had 
 never given his mind to courtship, was a 
 matter on which there was no approach to 
 agreement amidst the gossips of high aud 
 low degree around Orton Hall. His leading 
 mental characteristic was he was circumspect. 
 His circumspection revealed itself in every- 
 thing and everywhere. It spoke in his neat 
 attire ; it was eloquent in his suppressed 
 manner ; the tones of his voice pealed it 
 in muffled chimes. He saw as much of his 
 neighbour's hand as he could ; but never 
 showed his own. He phiyed a good hand 
 at whist ; and he knew it. He was well 
 informed ; aud he knew that too. He held 
 a good position ; it was not necessary to 
 inform him of the fact. His consciousness 
 was acute and sleepless. His sister looked 
 up to him as her idol. A man must have 
 something in him when his sister looks up 
 to him with reverence ! Why did not other 
 men's sisters regard him in the same light ?
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 131 
 
 Perhaps their reverence was such that it 
 overwhelmed and smothered every other 
 feeling ! 
 
 He is worth a little study : if only as one 
 of a well-marked type of man. He was 
 slight ; he was short ; he was sandy. A very 
 neat, quiet, subdued ; yet self-conscious per- 
 sonage he was. He knew exactly how the 
 little curl of his sandy hair stood out over 
 each ear. He knew his hair came to a neat 
 point at the back of his neck, exactly in 
 the middle line. His clothes were worn 
 with precision ; and came from a first-class 
 London tailor. He constantly looked as if 
 he was going to have his portrait painted. 
 
 Mentally his personality was equally pro- 
 nounced. Prudence is the only virtue 
 which is certain of its reward in this world ! 
 This was the centre-point of his creed. He 
 was exceedingly careful to gain the good 
 opinion of others ; and certainly held his 
 own good opinion as worth winning. He 
 instinctively hated any one who did not 
 care for his opinion. His estimate of 
 
 K 2
 
 132 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 himself was not a lowly one ; and he cer- 
 tainly was a Pharisee. ' Thank God, I am 
 not as other men are/ suffused the whole 
 of his being. 
 
 All who had transactions with him spoke 
 highly of his integrity. Stephen Oldfield's 
 good opinion of himself was evidently war- 
 ranted by the facts. Considerate for all, 
 his sister declared he was the best of 
 brothers ; his domestics pronounced him 
 the best of masters. Squire AVharton gave 
 it as his opinion that Oldfield had more 
 respect for the opinions of his elders than 
 any other young fellow he knew. Nor was 
 this respectful attitude towards his seniors 
 marked by any servility, any approach to 
 humility. The little sandy -haired man 
 always maintained his position — in his own 
 quiet way. 
 
 His features were not plain : yet he was 
 not a handsome man. He had a good 
 forehead, a bushy, sandy eyebrow, and 
 under it an eye which was observant. 
 It was rather a difficult eye to describe :
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 133 
 
 its groundwork was grey, yet the eye was 
 sandy. At the outer rim of the iris was a 
 circle of a darker shade ; while at the pupil 
 there was a distinct line of yellow : that 
 yellow ring which gives steadiness to the 
 gaze. The nose was prominent, and was 
 pointed ; it was cut away, however, at the 
 tip, so that it formed a very obtuse angle 
 v/ith the upper lip, w^hich was long. The 
 mouth was compressed. The whole face 
 had an intent look ; yet its muscles were 
 immobile, trained to keep still, as carefully 
 as ever pointer was trained. There was 
 much individuality about the man ; con- 
 siderable force of character ; and intense 
 self-consciousness. His mariner was studied. 
 He looked you gravely in the face when 
 addressed, not a quiver of a fibre of any 
 of the muscles of expression escaped his 
 ken. He read the faces of those with 
 whom he came into contact, like the pages 
 of an open book. Yet no one seemed to 
 regard him as a genius. His name was not 
 in the mouths of men as a cominir man ;
 
 134 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 there was no transcendent ability about 
 him. Yet no one ever spoke of him in 
 any contemptuous tone, or affected to hold 
 him cheap. He was a staunch Tory ; this 
 did not require any positive action from 
 him; he stood on a strong defensive posi- 
 tion. He could criticize the proposals of 
 the Whigs from this position. It was im- 
 possible to convince him. He could stand 
 argument, reason, persuasion ; and with- 
 stand them. He was as immovable as a 
 rock. * A safe, sound Tory without any 
 fancies,' was the judgment of his neighbours 
 about him. As a magistrate he kept him- 
 self in the background, yet he was never 
 out of view ; as a junior he gave his opinion 
 last. When the sides were equally balanced 
 this often gave him the casting vote. In- 
 deed it had become recognized that his 
 opinion often gave the decision. He was 
 not unaware of this fact. Wherever he 
 was he was not a cipher ; he was a numeral. 
 But you might place as many ciphers be- 
 hind the numeral as you pleased ; the
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 135 
 
 number did not disturb him. How many 
 ciphers stood behind the numeral in his 
 heart of hearts, no one ever knew ; probably 
 he had never calculated himself. His pre- 
 cise value in the eye of his Maker will only 
 he revealed at the last assize, when all hearts 
 are opened. 
 
 This prim, formal personage was accom- 
 panied by a lady, so closely resembling 
 him that a casual glance told she was his 
 sister. They were not twins, but they 
 might have been. The external likeness 
 was not the only likeness between the two ; 
 mentally they were alike, allowing for the 
 differences between the male and the female 
 mind. Miss Oldfield, though so like her 
 brother, was plainer ; perhaps her mind 
 stood in something of the same kind of 
 relation to her brother's as did their 
 respective features. Women always spoke 
 kindly of her ; and she was certainly 
 obliging. Whether she had ever had an 
 offer or not, was unknown to any one 
 but herself; it was never a topic of
 
 136 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 conversation either in her presence — or 
 out of it. 
 
 The Oldfields were a well-to-do county 
 family, who were present at the county 
 balls ; and sat on the raised benches beside 
 the Judges when they attended the assizes. 
 Squire Oldfield's carriage with its red-roans 
 was well known at Sheffield, and even at 
 Wakefield. It was not unlikely that some 
 day he would be pricked by the Lord- 
 Lieutenant for High Sheriff. They visited 
 a good deal, and were particular about 
 whom they visited. Had any test been 
 required as to the position of the Whartons 
 when John had decided upon farming his 
 own land, it would have been furnished by 
 the action of the Oldfields. Their carriage 
 at Fowrass Grange was a distinct intimation 
 that John Wharton was still a gentleman if 
 a farmer. No other evidence was required. 
 
 They alighted, and were shown into the 
 drawing-room on one side of the hall, where 
 Miss Wharton received them after a little 
 while.
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 137 
 
 ' You will find my brother in the dining- 
 room with the Eev. Mr. Pry or,' remarked 
 Miss Wharton. She did not appear to 
 wish to be rid of the gentleman ; yet clearly 
 she was in no way anxious to induce him 
 to remain with them in preference to joining 
 the gentlemen. 
 
 The gentlemen knew each other well, 
 and the greeting was brief. 
 
 'We are talking: over our meetiiis: the 
 other day. It went off very successfully ; 
 w^e think,' said Mr. Pry or. 
 
 ' I share that opinion with you,' said Mr. 
 Oldfield ; looking very much like an incar- 
 nate note of interrogation. 
 
 * That is our view as elected guardians. 
 It is a novel union of the magistrates and 
 the representatives of the ratepayers,' said 
 Wharton rather awkwardly. ' Mr. Pryor 
 and I were speculating as to how far the 
 magistrates were prepared to accept their 
 new colleao;ues.' 
 
 ' It is an important national work on 
 which we are engaged ; which will require
 
 138 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 the best energies of both classes of guar- 
 dians, the representative as well as the ex- 
 officio, for its satisfactory execution. We 
 shall be glad of any suggestions, you may 
 be sure/ was the response. 
 
 * The Canon is evidently determined to 
 stand no nonsense from the old " charge- 
 able labourers." ' 
 
 ' That impudent scoundrel Dalton was 
 soon disposed of. He deserved his sentence/ 
 said the Rector. 
 
 ' I am glad you think so. We felt a 
 great responsibility in forming our decision. 
 The Canon thought a distinctive sentence, 
 even if it seemed somewhat harsh, was real 
 mercy to the class ; and would prevent 
 others from following in Dalton's footsteps.' 
 
 ' Well, they will find his footsteps on the 
 treadmill, if they are anxious to tread in 
 them,' commented Wharton without any 
 intention to pun. 
 
 ' You have put it rather happily,' said Mr. 
 Oldfield, who evidently had his own reasons 
 for cultivating John Wharton ; yet it was
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 139 
 
 not natural sympathy wliich drew tliem 
 together. 
 
 'The new Poor Law is a great boon in 
 every way so far as I can see/ went on the 
 Eector. * Look at that poor fellow Weatheral 
 who has just become chargeable to the 
 rates. He came here a year or two ago 
 with his wife and a child. He was a steady 
 fellow, but she was a shiftless creature : 
 they never had a penny. He fell ill the 
 other week, soon his credit was exhausted, 
 and his wife had to apply for relief. Under 
 the old plan he must have been conveyed 
 to Ashbourne, to which he belongs ; a long 
 journey which would have taken three days 
 in his condition slowly plodding through 
 the Derbyshire hills. As it is, we relieve 
 him, and the amount is charged to Ash- 
 bourne. The whole cost of keeping him 
 till he is well, will be less than the cost 
 of conveying him would have been.' 
 
 * Quite so. Out-door relief in such a 
 case is quite proper. It was its being given 
 to able-bodied fellows which made it so
 
 140 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 objectionable under the old law. The old 
 law went by the name of the 43rd of 
 Elizabeth. It seems our Poor Law dates 
 back to that time. I know the fact ; but 
 I am in ignorance how it comes to be so.' 
 
 John Wharton declared he could throw 
 no light upon the subject. 
 
 ' What do you say, Mr. Pryor "? ' con- 
 tinued the interrogator, fixing his gaze 
 upon the Eector. 
 
 ^ I fancy the question is mixed up with 
 the dissolution of the monasteries. They 
 seemed to have the poor under their pro- 
 tection. When they were abolished it 
 became necessary to do something in the 
 matter ; but there was something more 
 than that. The poor were recognized in 
 the tithe. The Church took a third, the 
 incumbent a third ; while the other third 
 went to the poor. Fassere (jregem verbo, 
 exemplo, cibo : that was the duty of the 
 clergyman in the days of old.' 
 
 'Indeed! how very interesting. I did 
 not know that before ; ' continued the Justice
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 141 
 
 of the Peace, * I do not think you will 
 forget any of the three now, Mr. Pryor.' 
 
 * Fortunately the '' ciho" is also Avithin 
 my power. With roany of my poorer 
 brethren, the two first alone are possible. 
 Yet there is no denying a little of the 
 last, — a little appeal to the stomach predis- 
 poses the brain to listen patiently to the 
 word, and to consider the example.' The 
 Eector evidently was a student of human 
 nature. ' However, I must be going, and 
 say good-bye to you two gentlemen. The 
 duties of guardian must be subordinate to 
 and not superior to the other duties of the 
 pastor. The sick have more than material 
 wants ; the word in season is desirable.' 
 So saying, the rector departed. 
 
 ' Shall we join the ladies ? ' asked 
 Wharton. 
 
 ' With pleasure.' 
 
 ' We will let Pryor have his word with 
 them first, though.' 
 
 ' Certainly. How is Miss Wharton ? 
 Has she recovered her wonted good health
 
 142 GAYTHORXE HALL. 
 
 with lier stay in the south ? She had a 
 long strain upon her.' 
 
 ' She is quite strong, thank you. She is 
 taking up the subject of horseback exercise. 
 Uncle Edward has doubled the allowance 
 made to her from the canal shares.' (He 
 knew he need not explain what the allow- 
 ance was, or what the reference to the canal 
 shares meant, to his auditor.) ' He thinks 
 my farming operations may not be very 
 remunerative, and he does not want Edith 
 to be pinched.' 
 
 ' How very considerate of him ! ' 
 
 'He is a kind, generous fellow. As she 
 has made up her mind to settle with me ; 
 she thought the only use the money 
 could be put to was to have a horse, so 
 as to ride about with me.' 
 
 * Capital ! Miss Wharton will look well 
 on horseback. I must congratulate her 
 upon her decision. She will make a famous 
 horsewoman, I know.' 
 
 Here the front - door could be heard 
 to close, as the Kector passed out, and
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 143 
 
 the gentlemen turned to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Fowrass Grange was rather small as a 
 country house. It had a central hall with 
 a room on each side, each with a large 
 mullioned window ; above these were bed- 
 rooms also with mullioned windows ; and 
 above these again were dormer window^s. 
 If small it was a hijou residence ; and it 
 was one of those houses which stretch back- 
 wards, and cover more space than is apparent 
 at first sight. Its windows looked out upon 
 a lawn, pretty thickly covered w^ith ever- 
 green shrubs ; with a drive down to the 
 road, at a distance of some sixty yards. 
 
 ' Spring is coming upon us,' said Mr. 
 Oldfield. ^ I hope it will be favourable 
 to the agricultural interest. You have a 
 pleasant view from the window ; I don't 
 think I ever noticed it so distinctly before.' 
 Possibly not : Fowrass Grange never had 
 occupied so much of Mr. Oldfield's thoughts 
 until lately. 'Miss Wharton,' he said 
 impressively, ' I must congratulate you
 
 144 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 on your appearance. You seem quite 
 strong/ 
 
 The amber-hued blonde did indeed look 
 well in her mourning attire, which seemed 
 to become her. Mr. Oldfield was perfectly 
 sincere in his enthusiastic address. Her 
 features seemed to possess a more distinct 
 maturity, a full development of expression, 
 which Mr. Oldfield thought he had never 
 observed before. 
 
 * I am very well, thank you,' she replied. 
 
 * Then do you like the north after your 
 experience in the south ? I am afraid we 
 lose by the comparison.' 
 
 ' I do not think so. Cousin Barbara will 
 not admit that the north folk are in any 
 way inferior to the southern. It is a great 
 point with her.' 
 
 ' And do you share her opinion ? * 
 
 ' On the whole, I think I do.' 
 
 * You are going to have a horse of your 
 own, and ride,' went on the Squire : he 
 was very soon away from the Lady Barbara. 
 * So your brother tells me.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 145 
 
 *Yes, I have been thinking it will be 
 pleasant to ride out with my brother. The 
 climate of Brigstone is not favourable to the 
 roads, and walking. I shall often be able 
 to get out on horseback when I could not 
 possibly go out on foot.' 
 
 ' I am afraid the roads here do not com- 
 pare favourably with those of Stanmore. 
 On the slope there they are soon dry. You 
 see you are critical about our roads since 
 you have had an experience elsewhere.' 
 
 The lady did not seem particularly in- 
 terested in these comparisons, and the 
 conversation had no great charm for her. 
 Yet Mr. Oldfield was doing his best to be 
 aofreeable. He observed the slio-ht chano;e 
 of expression on her features, and changed 
 his front. 
 
 ' Have you got a steed yet, Miss "Wharton, 
 or are you still looking about for one ? ' 
 
 ' My brother has seen nothing to his 
 mind yet. It must meet w^ith his approval 
 before it will be submitted for mine.' 
 
 ' It will not be easy to find the horse for 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 you, Miss "Wharton. It must be handsome, 
 of course ; safe and trustworthy. Your 
 brother will be careful about that, I am 
 sure.' 
 
 * Yes ; I think he is too exigeant. He 
 will never obtain the perfect animal he has 
 set his mind on ; at least not at the price I 
 am willing to give/ 
 
 * But you must do yourself justice with 
 your horse, Miss Wharton. A good-looking 
 horse costs no more to keep than a plain 
 one. It is only the first cost.' 
 
 * But that first cost is a consideration. I 
 am not rich. If I had a fortune I might do 
 as I pleased.' 
 
 * You possess what is better than mere 
 wealth.' Miss Wharton looked inquiringly 
 at the speaker ; a tendency to undervalue 
 riches had never been a conspicuous element 
 in the Oldfields. ' You have qualities which 
 throw riches into the shade.' 
 
 'I was not aware of them,' she answered 
 rather coldly. 
 
 * You would accuse me of flattery if I
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 147 
 
 told you what I think, so I must refrain 
 from saying it. I should not like to forfeit 
 your good opinion of my sincerity.' 
 
 *I am. afraid flattery would be wasted 
 upon me ; if I recognized it was flattery, of 
 course. If I did not, then my vanity would 
 be gratified, I dare say.' The last remark 
 was made rather as the continuation of the 
 thought than as a deliberate utterance. 
 
 ^ Truth is not flattery, Miss Wharton. 
 There can be no insincerity in speaking the 
 truth. Nature has been bountiful to you 
 in many ways.' 
 
 This was said with a certain amount of 
 e7npressment. Miss Wharton began to 
 realize the position, and felt it a little 
 awkward. Mr. Oldfield had always ex- 
 hibited a preference for her ; he now evi- 
 dently was in earnest as a suitor. 
 
 It is always somewhat of the nature of 
 a surprise to a girl when brought face to 
 face with a lover, who is gradually bringing 
 his parallels nearer and nearer. She is in 
 a sense like a beleaguered fortress ; the 
 
 L 2
 
 148 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 besiegers gradually complete the circuit ; then 
 their lines creep closer and closer. With 
 the latter, however, the intention is obvious. 
 With a girl who is being courted it is not 
 so easy to be certain about the gentleman's 
 intentions ; consequently she must wait, 
 she cannot act till the proposal is made. 
 Especially is this the case where a certain 
 amount of intimacy has long existed. With 
 a comparatively new acquaintance it is not 
 difficult to distinguish clearly when the 
 attentions pass from mere politeness to 
 something more distinctly personal. If 
 disposed she can arrest the progress by an 
 attitude of distance ; but when the gentle- 
 man stands on the footing of an old friend, 
 one known familiarly from early years, a 
 cool distance is not alw^ays so easily main- 
 tained. Mr. Oldfield was evidently advanc- 
 ing a nearer parallel. Miss Wharton gave 
 an almost imperceptible start as the change 
 in the tone struck her. This is courtship, 
 — was the conclusion flashed upon her. She 
 had no intention of being courted. What
 
 GAYTHOP.XE HALL. 149 
 
 was she to do ? Yes : what was to be 
 done ? 
 
 John Wharton was talkmo; to Miss Old- 
 field, who was listening with evident atten- 
 tion. The topic was the new poor-Law, 
 and its probable effect upon the ranks of 
 pauperism. There was no courtship going 
 on there, evidently ; so Miss Wharton 
 thought. Old Lady Barbara would not 
 have been so confident. To be an attentive 
 listener is a subtle flattery ; especially when 
 the speaker is pursuing a topic on which he 
 feels keenly. Miss Oldfield really wanted 
 to know something of the subject, and was 
 as absorbed in what John Wharton was 
 saying almost as himself. Hearer and 
 speaker were mutually interested ; so Miss 
 Wharton could scarcely break in upon their 
 Ute-d-ttfe. She must fall back upon herself ; 
 and she adopted a line which never fails 
 any one in a dilemma, and especially a 
 woman in a difficulty like the present. 
 
 ' I cannot say. that I quite comprehend 
 you,' was the answer.
 
 150 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 This threw upon the speaker the onus of 
 further explanation ; without making the 
 said explanation at all easy. It was quite 
 clear Miss Wharton was not going to ad- 
 vance, to say nothing of meeting him half- 
 way ; as she might have done, if disposed. 
 
 Cautious, circumspect as he habitually 
 was, Stephen Oidfield felt he must pluDge ; 
 nothing else was feasible in the emergency. 
 So he plunged. 
 
 ' Surely, Miss Wharton,' he said, ' you are 
 conscious that nature has given you many 
 attractions ? But if you do not realize the 
 fact, others do — at least I do,' lowering his 
 voice. 
 
 This was a very decided plunge ; especially 
 from a person with Mr. Oldfield's qualities. 
 It virtually was a proposal ; a very guarded 
 proposal truly ; a proposal at arm's length ; 
 a stretching out the hand no further than 
 admitted of its readily being withdrawn. 
 
 Time cannot be measured by the chrono- 
 meter at such moments ; a second seems 
 half a lifetime. Miss Wharton seemed to
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 151 
 
 be passing through a long experience, to 
 judge by her sensations. She was not 
 prepared for decisive action. She had long 
 been aware that Stephen Oldfield looked 
 upon her as a potential Mrs. Oldfield ; but 
 the prospect had never seemed to be near 
 enough to call for any serious thought. 
 But here behold, the distance had become 
 measurable. She had no time for proper 
 consideration on the spot ; she must make 
 an answer. This answer, as might be ex- 
 pected, was of the nature of a compromise. 
 It was neither definite encouragement to 
 proceed, nor did it block any further 
 advances. 
 
 * It is very kind of you to say so ; but 
 then you are partial to me, Mr. Oldfield. 
 I know you always were most polite to me 
 when quite a little child ; you are an old 
 friend, you know.' This left the matter in 
 abeyance. She had taken up no definite 
 attitude. 
 
 Mr. Oldfield was not clear whether this 
 meant that he was still to regard himself as
 
 152 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 
 
 in the position of an old friend ; or he might 
 consider the admission as establishing him on 
 such a footing as admitted of his advancing 
 to something more. In such times of emerg- 
 ency the mind is apt to take its view from 
 the standpoint of the inclinations. Stephen 
 Oldfield decided that he might hope to be 
 some day something more than an old family 
 friend : but that the lady was not disposed to 
 give him any distinct encouragement just 
 then. Whether Miss Wharton meant this, 
 or not, was not so clear. When she came to 
 think all over, perhajDs she might take the 
 contrary view. However, her end was served 
 so far as extricating herself from the imme- 
 diate dilemma. 
 
 Inspired by hope Mr. Oldfield proceeded : 
 * I hope our friendship will permit of 
 my saying that when you get your horse, 
 you and your brother will include Orton 
 Hall within the range of your rides. Mr. 
 Wharton,' he said, breaking in upon his 
 conversation with Miss Oldfield, * I hope 
 you and Miss Wharton will not omit Orton
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 153 
 
 Hall in your list of riding excursions. I 
 am sure my sister and I will be very glad 
 to see you whenever you can call.' 
 
 * I hope you will come, Mr. Wharton. 
 Do promise me, Edith, that you will come. 
 Miss Oldfield adopted a conventional prefix 
 to Mr. Wharton's name, while she gave 
 Miss Wharton her Christian name. This 
 passed unnoticed. 
 
 The promise was given and the visitors 
 departed. John Wharton thought no more 
 about the visit. His sister, however, carried 
 with her a vivid remembrance that Stephen 
 Oldfield had made an advance, a clear and 
 definite advance towards a proposal, — the 
 shadow thrown forward. Keally his remark 
 bore the same relation to a definite proposal 
 that the outside signals at a railway station 
 bear to the inner signals. He had then 
 passed the outer signals on his way to Miss 
 Wharton's hand ; and she realized this. 
 When would he attempt the inner signals ? 
 She felt that her lack of decision had 
 rendered her liable to a proposal from him.
 
 154 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 She must reo^ard him as a suitor for her 
 hand, she began to see. What should she 
 say when the next advance was made ? She 
 was angry with herself. She did not see 
 how she could have acted otherwise ; and 
 yet she was dissatisfied. She had no in- 
 tention of saying ' Yes:' and such being the 
 case, she must say ' No ' when the time 
 came. When would it come ?
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 155 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 PROBABLY THEY HAVE. 
 
 The thought of what had occurred at 
 that, to her, memorable visit troubled Miss 
 Wharton exceeding^ly. We must remember 
 she was only just twenty-one; and that her 
 experience had not been that of many 
 sophisticated town girls, who at that age 
 are familiar with suitors and offers. An 
 experienced damsel of the present day 
 would quickly dismiss such a matter from 
 her mind, if not from her memory ; and feel 
 quite equal to the emergency when the 
 definite proposal came, whenever that might 
 be. But not so Edith Wharton ; who be- 
 longed to an earlier epoch, when being 
 eng:ag;ed meant somethinor more than a 
 recognized position, and a right to seek 
 each other's society — until it could be
 
 156 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 broken off if desirable. A proposal and 
 an engagement were in those days the end 
 of a courtship, almost as sacred as marriage 
 itself (the Verlobung of the Germans) ; 
 not the formal commencement of court- 
 ship, — as it has now become. An engage- 
 ment is now nothing more than a sort of 
 feeler of each other's inclinations, — a per- 
 mission to examine into each other's ways 
 and thoughts by an intimacy otherwise 
 impossible. It is a sanction to a tentative 
 courtship ; not the indication that the 
 courtship has culminated in a step that 
 can scarcely be retraced. 
 
 Edith Wharton now felt the want of a 
 mother's counsel as she stood alone. Pro- 
 bably if her mother had been living this 
 unpleasant episode could never have hap- 
 pened at all. She could not speak to her 
 brother on the subject. That Stephen 
 Oldfield would be some day a suitor for 
 Edith's hand was a matter tacitly recog- 
 nized by all. He was distinctly eligible, 
 even to freedom from vicious practices ;
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 157 
 
 and there was even a sense of fitness in 
 such union. There was nothing which had 
 transpired that could be made an excuse 
 for limiting the friendly intercourse betwixt 
 Orton Hall and Fowrass Grange. Yet the 
 episode allowed Stephen Oldfield to throw a 
 certain tenderness into his polite attentions 
 to Miss Wharton, which she recognized ; 
 and which he knew she recognized. Yet 
 this link was irksome to her, and certainly 
 did not tend to produce a better under- 
 standing between them. Like a great 
 many scheming persons, Mr. Oldfield looked 
 down the line of facts in the light of his 
 wishes. He did not grasp the idea that, 
 looked down by the light of Miss Wharton's 
 feelings, their aspect might be widely 
 different. He realized that he had placed 
 himself in a position from which advances 
 could readily be made ; he did not equally 
 clearly realize that his attentions were not 
 much appreciated by the lady. He had 
 stolen a march upon her, and done it very 
 artfully too ; but he miscalculated the girl
 
 158 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 he had to deal with. An ordinary girl 
 might have recognized the position, but 
 decided to let the matter drift, trustinor to 
 chance to help her out ; and if no such 
 rescue turned up, reconciled herself to her 
 fate, on the what's-done-can't-be-helped 
 argument. But such was not Edith Whar- 
 ton's way of looking at the matter. She 
 felt injured by the march stolen upon her ; 
 it was not quite fair, she felt. He had 
 taken her at an advantage, and evidently 
 meant to stick to the claim which had then 
 been implied, rather than admitted in her 
 evasive answer. Why could not she have 
 said something else, been more self-pos- 
 sessed ? This was a question she asked 
 herself hundreds of times : and the more 
 she turned the matter over in her mind, 
 the more she resented it ; and the more her 
 heart hardened ao^ainst the man who had 
 stolen the march on her. It was a very 
 clever step on the part of Mr. Oldfield ; but 
 it just happened that it really was a step 
 backwards, and not forwards.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 159 
 
 At last a horse was found to John 
 Wharton's mind, a bay with black points. 
 A nice lady's horse in all respects ; good- 
 tempered, gentle, with a small clean head, 
 and a nose small and brown, like a deer's. 
 Probably it had some Arab blood in it ; it 
 looked like it. It soon established itself 
 as a prime favourite with all. The groom 
 doted on it. Luke EUwood gave it as his 
 opinion that — 
 
 ' It's just the varra nag for the young 
 lady. If ye searched Yorkshire through ye 
 couldn't find a mair suitable herse ; and 
 well she luiks on its back ; they're the 
 bonniest pair ye'll see anywhere. And it 
 is as sure-footed as it's good-looking.' 
 
 Sometimes, when the weather was too bad 
 for her to get out, Luke would ride * Daisy ' 
 through the fields to see to the stock; and the 
 care he would take of her was quite motherly. 
 The feeling of attachment was mutual. 
 
 ' It's as wise as a body,' he would say, ' and 
 a sight mair to be trusted than a many.' 
 
 As to Miss Wharton, she was very proud
 
 160 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 of * Daisy,' wlio carried her so easily, and 
 was so graceful, 
 
 John Wharton began to think the old 
 horse which had been his father's, and 
 which used to draw the little old-fashioned 
 four-wheel (a phaeton), for him and Mrs. 
 Wharton, aud afterwards Mrs. Wharton 
 and her daughter, getting altogether too 
 antiquated for his requirements. Luke 
 argued it would be just the horse for the 
 farm, to cart the coals from the collieries a 
 few miles away, and do the odd jobs ; and 
 he would take good care of it. The last 
 sealed the old horse's fate. John could not 
 bear the idea of parting with him, for fear 
 he might find a hard lot somewhere ; but 
 with Luke he was safe from ill-usage. Of 
 course this entailed a new investment. He 
 soon found a steed to his mind, a dark- 
 brown horse of great power, a hunter that 
 did not take kindly to his fences. * That 
 will constitute no drawback with me,' 
 thought the would-be purchaser. ' I shan't 
 take any fences.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 161 
 
 So he bought the horse, and the brother 
 and sister now rode out together regularly. 
 They commonly rode up to Gaythorne Hall, 
 as Uncle Edward wished to see how the 
 new steeds went on ; especially Edith's. 
 
 * She and the horse are a regular picture/ 
 Mrs. Allonby would say ; ' don't you think 
 so, sir "? ' 
 
 Mrs. Allonby was Squire Wharton's 
 factotum. 
 
 ' And a handsome picture too,' he would 
 add. *Miss AVharton sits so straight and 
 square. Though she is my niece, she is the 
 handsomest girl in South Yorkshire. Daisy 
 seems quite proud to carry you, Edie,' he 
 would remark. ' I declare she is.' 
 
 ' Then the pride must be mutual, uncle ; 
 for I am sure I am proud of her.' 
 
 * Have you been to Orton Hall lately ? 
 What do the Oldfields say ? Stephen is a 
 good judge of a horse. In fact he has 
 good judgment all round.' (It was quite 
 clear that Mr. Oldfield had an ally in the 
 Squire.) 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 ' He is very complimentary on the sub- 
 ject. Almost too much so ; it makes me 
 uncomfortable.' 
 
 The Squire cast a keen look at his niece ; 
 for he noticed the remark, and the tone in 
 which it was uttered. 
 
 * Oh, he is an old friend. His criticism 
 and compliment are both natural, both go 
 free. Young ladies are apt to be exacting, 
 and so very particular at times.' 
 
 Edith made no remark. That a marriage 
 betwixt Mr. Oldfield and herself would meet 
 with her uncle's sanction, and even favour, 
 she knew well enough. She felt that she 
 stood on ground which gave her admirer 
 the advantage : which he took. It was not 
 generous of him, she felt. His whole con- 
 duct was scarcely that of the man she 
 would wish to marry. Something to look 
 up to, not to look down upon : that was 
 the natural lord of a lady like Edith 
 Wharton. 
 
 When they visited Orton Hall its Squire 
 was all attention. Under the cover of
 
 UAYTHORNE HALL. 163 
 
 admiring Daisy, he could pay astute com- 
 pliments to the lady on her back. 
 
 ' There is a natural sense of fitness 
 betwixt you and your steed, Miss Wharton. 
 She is such a handsome well-bred little 
 mare, and carries you so w^elL' The infer- 
 ence was unmistakable. ' You seem on 
 excellent terms.' 
 
 Daisy was very fond of a biscuit, a piece 
 of bread, or even an apple. This predilection 
 was never forgotten. She would sniff about 
 if something was not forthcoming, in a most 
 suggestive manner. 
 
 * Want something, Daisy ? ' the observant 
 swain would say. * I'll get you something.' 
 
 It is possible to court a lady through her 
 steed, if so minded. So* an equine honne 
 boiiche would be forthcoming, w^hich Daisy 
 would munch with a relish which was 
 unmistakable. 
 
 * She has a very amiable disposition, your 
 mare. Miss Wharton/ the Squire once con- 
 tinued, after Daisy had finished her little 
 repast ; * it is quite remarkable.' 
 
 M 2
 
 164 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ^ I am afraid it is more than can be said 
 of her mistress/ was the response. 
 
 'Do you know, Miss Wharton, you are 
 given to depreciate yourself; you do your- 
 self injustice.' 
 
 This was said with a marked ei^nesse- 
 ment, implying the right of the speaker to 
 address her in the manner he did. It was 
 one of those tugs at the chain which con- 
 nected them that roused Miss Wharton's 
 ire, and she resented it. 
 
 * I do not know why you object to my 
 speaking the truth about myself. You 
 seem to assume that I am amiable. I know 
 that I am not ! ' (And at that moment she 
 certainly did not look so either. Her 
 appearance bore out her words.) The 
 Squire took a note of this, but went on. 
 
 * Is it fair, or right to be unjust to your- 
 self, any more than to some one else ? I 
 question it.' 
 
 ' I wish you would not persist in holding 
 me better than I am,' she replied rather 
 pettishly. 'It worries me.'
 
 GAYTHOEXE HALL. 165 
 
 * I am sure I am the last person who 
 would do anything against your wishes, 
 Miss Wharton. I have no desire to do so.' 
 
 What was she to do with such a man ; 
 who understood so well the soft answer 
 which turneth away wrath ? It was impos- 
 sible to say anything more on the subject. 
 But the soft answer of some men, if it 
 makes wrath impossible at the time, only 
 fans it into a steadier glow. This was 
 Mr. Oldfield's error, and one he constantly 
 made, — his besetting sin. Because the 
 answer prevented any outbreak or exhi- 
 bition at the time, the feeling only rankled 
 in the other person's mind. He thought 
 he had cleverly disposed of the difficulty ; 
 really he only put it away for the time — to 
 brood. This constantly making her feel the 
 bond, and leaving her so that she could not 
 in common politeness take overt notice of 
 it, began to chafe on Miss Wharton. Her 
 feelings towards her suitor were taking 
 shape ; but it is to be feared it w^as the 
 shape of dislike.
 
 166 GAYTHOHNE HALL. 
 
 He calculated very carefully the position. 
 He knew that the world, — at least that 
 portion of the world immediately surround- 
 ing Orton Hall and Fowrass Grange, looked 
 upon the intimacy existing betwixt the Old- 
 fields and the Whartons as the prelude to 
 closer relations in the not far distant future. 
 It had grown accustomed to associate Mr. 
 Oldfield and Miss Wharton together, as a 
 matter of course. It would end in a match, 
 everybody said. His attentions were skil- 
 fully measured. There was just that amount 
 of personality in them which a single man 
 may pay to a lady of his acquaintance, 
 which shows, in northern country phrase, 
 * that there is something between them ' ; 
 but it gives no iudication of the dimensions 
 of the something. And yet it was not 
 more than courteous politeness. His 
 gradual recognition of this relation made 
 it increasingly difficult to the lady to re- 
 treat or escape from the position into which 
 she was being edged. That Mr. Oldfield 
 should be all politeness was looked upon
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 167 
 
 by all as a matter of course. When the 
 old Squire asked his niece if they had been 
 at Orton Hall lately, his inquiry was made 
 as if it was natural that he should ask that 
 question ; as if something underlay the 
 question which it was unnecessary to put 
 into words. It was an astute line of attack ; 
 but whether it was the form of assault to 
 carry that particular virgin-fortress may 
 be questioned. If the lady had rested upon 
 popular opinion for her convictions, she 
 must have yielded. But a careful observer 
 would doubt how far this line of attack was 
 adapted to the case of a lady with Marston 
 blood in her, and decidedly given to think 
 for herself. The besieger was pursuing a 
 plan which would drive most birds into his 
 net ; a slow, steady sap and mine, the most 
 certain of all forms of siege. Time would 
 fiofht for him, he felt. 
 
 The position in which Mr. Oldfield thus 
 placed Miss Wharton is one by no means 
 uncommon even yet in remote rural areas ; 
 but which was more frequent in past times,
 
 168 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 when travelling was less easy, and areas 
 were more localized. It is one which tells 
 hardly upon the lady. There is a certain 
 understanding, vague but recognized ; and 
 the outer world knows it. Consequently 
 any other suitor is warned off; to pay the 
 lady any attentions is pretty much like 
 poaching. It would not be quite an honour- 
 able action to break in upon the gentleman's 
 preserves. With the lady thus hedged off, 
 time fights for the gentleman. Whether it 
 is quite an honourable line for a gentleman 
 to take is another question. All is fair in 
 love and war ! But it is a very safe line, 
 and usually ends in success. The lady 
 reconciles herself to the arranorement in 
 time, a formal engagement follows; and 
 shortly after that the irrevocable step, and 
 the lady is finally secured. All depends 
 upon how far the friends on each side favour 
 the prospect of a union. If they do not 
 look favourably upon it, the scheme breaks 
 down ; if they are in favour of it, the lady 
 is sooner or later won over ; they court for
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 169 
 
 the gentleman, and the lady sooner or later 
 succumbs. It was quite clear in this case 
 the Whartons and Oldfields were in favour 
 of such alliance ; and it became tacitly under- 
 stood that the match would come off when 
 the two contracting parties could make up 
 their minds. In this instance the gentle- 
 man had made up his mind distinctly 
 enough, and only waited the favourable 
 opportunity. The lady bad not made up 
 hers, how^ever ; and so far as she had travelled 
 towards a decision, it was against Mr. 
 Oldfield. 
 
 Thus matters stood, and time went on 
 without any change or advance being made. 
 Mr. Oldfield was not the kind of man to lay 
 himself open to be refused when he proposed 
 to a lady ; so he bided his time. Miss 
 "VYharton was a lady who, if young, possessed 
 much force of character, and was scarcely 
 likely to capitulate to any siege, however 
 persistently pushed on ; and w^hen slie com- 
 muned with her own heart, which she 
 frequently did, she could not find that her
 
 170 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 feelings towards Mr. Oldfield grew warmer 
 as time flew. Nevertheless she recognized 
 the position in which she was placed. Had 
 her mother still lived, she would soon have 
 extricated her from the dilemma ; but that 
 active brain, that loving heart, were moulder- 
 ing in the grave. But her wise plan of 
 forming her daughter's character survived 
 her, and her lessons were not lost upon her 
 in deciding upon action. 
 
 Matters thus stood still, nearinsc some solu- 
 tion of the problem of course ; an end being 
 one day involved in the flight of time. So 
 long as no one else appeared on the field 
 Mr. Oldfield felt pretty secure of ultimate 
 success ; but a new factor entered into the 
 position, very gradually, insensibly, and 
 apparently unnoticed by all. 
 
 The railway system was extending. London 
 was united to Birmingham ; and then the 
 Grand Junction was to unite Birmins^ham to 
 the Manchester and Liverpool Company by a 
 line running in at Newton Bridge. A proposal 
 to join Sheffield to Manchester was set on foot,
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 171 
 
 and a firm of surveyors were working at the 
 district to see how the line must run. John 
 Wharton was in favour of such a scheme, 
 while his uncle was tooth and nail opposed 
 to it. Among the surveyors engaged was 
 one George Ashworth, a junior partner in 
 the firm. He was a tall, lithe, active fellow, 
 with a keen, quick eye ; dark and sinewy, 
 capable of immense labour ; sanguine, and 
 ambitious. He was the son of a Lincoln- 
 shire clergyman who farmed his own glebe ; 
 a father who made all the provision for his 
 progeny of which his circumstances would 
 permit. He belonged to a fairly good 
 family, but not occupying quite such a 
 good social position as the Whartons. On 
 first sight it was easy to see the young 
 surveyor was a gentleman. John Wharton 
 met him casually ; and as they fell into con- 
 versation, their views on mauy important 
 matters were found to be very similar. The 
 natural result followed, and George Ash- 
 worth was invited to dine at Fowrass 
 Grange.
 
 172 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 From that time he came to be a frequent 
 visitor, always welcome. The conversation 
 ran commonly on the feasibility of making 
 the proposed line ; at other times on the 
 work of the reformed parliament. Miss 
 Wharton sat w^ith her large wooden knitting- 
 needles, working steadily away at some 
 woollen comforter, or wrap, for some old man 
 or woman near by. She listened, as ladies 
 like to listen to the conversation of gentle- 
 men w^henever they get the opportunity ; 
 further, it made a change, and the evenings 
 were very quiet at Fowrass Grange. In the 
 day there was the ride, or a walk in the 
 fields, or a visit to the Kectory, or Gaythorne 
 Hall ; or a visit to read awhile to some 
 invalid, or bed-ridden person among the 
 poor ; or if wet to go to the Grange Farm 
 and watch Mrs. EUwood in her dairy, or 
 maybe to make a few pats of butter if 
 churning was going on. But the evenings 
 were very quiet, and George Ashworth 
 made an agreeable diversion. Still not 
 even Mr. Oldfield saw underneath this
 
 GAYTHOKXE HALL. 173 
 
 friendship betwixt the gentlemeD, anything 
 which would affect Miss Wharton. John 
 Wharton held advanced views ; but that was 
 23ermissible, a mere eccentricity in a man 
 Avho was bound hy family ties to the govern- 
 ing chisses. George Ashworth was a man 
 who, if a gentleman by birth and breeding, 
 worked for a living:. Advanced views in 
 him were c^uite another matter. He was a 
 radical, a reformer: one of those men who 
 wished to overturn the car of state in 
 order to see what might fall to them in the 
 confusion. Had he aspired to Miss Whar- 
 ton's hand, it was certain the Squire would 
 put his foot on the matter and suppress it 
 at once. It was not even likely that John 
 Wharton would be prepared to accept the 
 young surveyor as a brother-in-law. There 
 was no evidence that lie looked upon Miss 
 Wharton in any other light than the future 
 Mrs. Oldfield ; as all around Briorstone 
 assumed. Furtlier, no one supposed for a 
 moment that Miss Wharton had any objec- 
 tion to become Mrs. Ohlfield. Mr. Oldfield
 
 174 GAYTHOPvXE HALL. 
 
 seemed indifferent about the visits of the 
 young surveyor, even if he knew of them. 
 The conversation related to anything but 
 courting or love-making ; it never ran on 
 sentiment or poetry ; it was as practical and 
 realistic as the young surveyor's measuring- 
 chain. The tunnel which would be neces- 
 sary to pierce the mountain ridge at Dunton 
 Bridge, the heavy ascent from Sheffield ; the 
 probable opposition of the landowners like 
 Squire Wharton, who would not sell an 
 inch of ground if possible ; or what was 
 being done, or had been done at Westminster 
 — such were the topics. They recounted 
 the triumphs of the Whig ministry : and 
 pointed with pride to the new poor-law ; 
 the abolition of negro slavery ; the move- 
 ments made for the relief of the 'white 
 slaves ' in factories and mines, and espe- 
 cially the unfortunate children who were 
 terribly overworked in both. Lord Ashley 
 had taken the poor little white-slave child 
 under his care ; and white and black were 
 both to be free. Or they discussed the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 175 
 
 question of education, and the effect it 
 would have upon the nation. The mere 
 mustard-seed of a beginning had been 
 made by Parliament voting a small sum, 
 some £30,000 for educational purposes. 
 
 * It is the beginning, anyhow,' John 
 Wharton went on ; ' but it must take a 
 considerable time before the educational 
 movement can tell. The children affected 
 by it must grow up before they can exercise 
 any influence. I am inclined to think more 
 immediate results will follow from the re- 
 duction of the newspaper tax. Fourpence 
 constituted a prohibitory tax, and forbade 
 a cheap newspaper ; bat now that the tax 
 is reduced to a penny it will be possible to 
 have newspapers at twopence : and then 
 even the artisan can have his own news- 
 paper.' 
 
 ' It will have a good effect throughout 
 the country. As we go about we see a 
 good deal of what goes on. In the little 
 villages you will often find a newspaper 
 left weekly at one of the inns, usually a
 
 176 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 Tory paper. On asking how they come to 
 take it, the answer is, '' Oh, it comes every 
 week, we know nothing about it ; there is 
 never any charge made for it." And on 
 inquiry it turns out that the leading Tory 
 peer of the neighbourhood has a number 
 of inns, to which a newspaper is sent gratis.' 
 
 * I see ; educates the people to hold the 
 right views by sending the only newspaper 
 w^hich penetrates the neighbourhood. It is 
 not a bad piece of tactics ; represents to the 
 free and independent voters the right aspect 
 of thing's. But the new act in reducinoj 
 the newspaper stamp will rather upset that 
 astute arrangement.' 
 
 ' I don't know that the Tory squires are 
 to be blamed for their conduct. The existing 
 state of affairs suits them ; they have got 
 their interests to look after, and they look 
 after them. I should probably feel with 
 them if I were one of them. Your brother 
 is an exception to the class to which he 
 belongs, Miss Wharton ! " 
 
 ' How am I to take that, Mr. Ash worth ?
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 177 
 
 My uncle holds the opposite views ; and I 
 am sure Uncle Edward is a good and a 
 kind man. My brother is the same : yet 
 they never agree about this question of 
 reform.' 
 
 ' It is not so much a question of right 
 and wrong, as a question of feeling. One 
 man holds one set of views ; another man 
 another. For instance, we surveyors are 
 most variously regarded. In one place we 
 find the people quite ready to believe that 
 a railroad would be a good thing for the 
 district ; while in other places the farmers 
 and their men will come with pitchforks 
 and other weapons, and drive us aw^ay, 
 because they think a railroad would injure 
 them. 
 
 * How strange ! ' And then the feminine 
 intellect would once more turn itself to 
 the knitting, and apparently become obli- 
 vious of the topic of conversation. 
 
 ' It is no doubt a question of interests to 
 a very large extent. The reformers have al- 
 ways inveighed against class legislation ; and 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 asserted that if our legislators are derived 
 mainly from the land-owning class, and the 
 property qualification is maintained, so 
 long the said legislators will look after the 
 landed interests. That of course is the 
 raison d'etre of the Corn Laws, And 
 naturally they have exhibited no inclina- 
 tion to ease the burdens of manufacturers. 
 The reduction of the duty on paper is an 
 evidence that the present parliament does 
 not- maintain the old attitude of hostility 
 to producers. It is a step in the right 
 direction, in that respect, and also in 
 another. The cost of books and news- 
 papers will be considerably reduced by it. 
 Cheap books and cheap newspapers will soon 
 be quite common. This will be a great 
 boon to the working classes, and give a 
 stimulus to the Mechanics' Institutions 
 spriDging up everywhere ; but it will 
 bring with it some alloy : there is no such 
 thing as unalloyed good in this imperfect 
 world. What do you say on the subject, 
 Mr. Ashworth ? '
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 179 
 
 * I think the movement is in the right 
 direction. Very likely we will get a 
 number of noisy fellows who will produce 
 a good deal of disturbance, and furnish 
 the Tories with aro^uments in their favour. 
 That can scarcely be helped. You rarely 
 get a piece of rich alluvial land by a river- 
 edge, but you find a bit of marsh here and 
 there. But for all that we do not object 
 to the arrangement, upon the whole : we 
 would rather take the marsh with the flat 
 than be without both.' 
 
 * Yes, but the Tory will only see the 
 marsh, on which his eye will be steadily 
 fixed ; and he will take his stand accordingly. 
 In every movement likely to benefit the 
 people at large he detects lurking danger 
 to the landed interest.' 
 
 Such and such like were the conversations 
 which went on ; but soon Mr. Ashworth 
 had to shift his quarters, and left the 
 neighbourhood of Brigstone for a position 
 nearer the Manchester end of the proposed 
 railway. Surely there was nothing here 
 
 N 2
 
 180 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 to militate against Mr. Oldfield's interests. 
 Cupid could never shelter himself behind 
 such prosaic matters as railroads and poli- 
 tics. Besides, Mr. Ash worth knew that Miss 
 Wharton was as good as engaged to Squire 
 Oldfield. He himself might be engaged 
 for anything the Whartons knew. Yet 
 somehow it was no uncommon thing for 
 the Whartons on a quiet evening to wish 
 Mr. Ashworth were near them again, so 
 that he could drop in as of yore : Miss 
 Wharton joining in her brother's regret 
 without reserve.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 181 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE FIRST PEAL OF THUNDER. 
 
 The life led at Fowrass Grange was as 
 quiet as that led by the denizens of Gay- 
 thorne Hall, and Orton Hall respectively. 
 It was a quiet and perhaps humdrum life, 
 as some might choose to think it, when the 
 stage-coach rattling past was the incident 
 of the day ; and when the guard's horn 
 had not given way to the more piercing 
 but less melodious railway-whistle. John 
 Wharton, gentleman-farmer, had prospered ; 
 first, because the seasons were good ; and 
 secondly, because the advice of old John 
 Holroyd to keep the place ' the green side 
 up,' and always ' to buy stock from above 
 and not below,' was rigidly adhered to in 
 both instances. Nor did he, or his man
 
 182 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Luke either for tliat matter, feel disposed 
 to call in the plough though the price of 
 wheat kept steadily rising. 
 
 ' Won't the price of wheat tempt you to 
 plough out that pasture, Jack?' inquired 
 his uncle one day. * My rent-audit came 
 off well the other day. The times are 
 good ; manufacturers are busy and paying 
 good wages ; their work-folk can buy freely ; 
 and, thanks to the Corn Laws, the farmers 
 are prospering.' 
 
 The Squire knew the allusion to the Corn 
 Laws was like treading on his toes ; but 
 he resolved not to deny himself his say. 
 If the seasons continued as they had been 
 for the last two years, farming, and especi- 
 ally tillage, would pay very well. 
 
 * I am very glad to hear it, uncle, both 
 for the farmers' sakes and your own ; but 
 I am satisfied. The experiment has been 
 successful; and I have been the better for 
 it in many respects. I have had to look 
 into many matters that I merely glanced 
 at before ; and consequently seen many
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 183 
 
 things I should otherwise probably not 
 have noticed. But I am not yet a convert 
 to the Corn Laws : indeed my opinion has 
 not changed about them at all.' 
 
 ' But surely you see that good trade and 
 busy manufacture give good wages, and the 
 working people can readily buy the loaf 
 at the present price ; and that helps the 
 landed interest : and we all profit by it : all 
 round/ 
 
 'Yes, in favourable times when wages are 
 good, and the harvests plentiful, the objec- 
 tions to the Corn Laws are not so obvious as 
 they become under opposite circumstances. 
 However, I am not going to set my sails to 
 the Corn Law winds.' 
 
 ^ Spoken like a AVharton and a Marston 
 in one. Yerily, Jack, thou art an obstinate, 
 self-willed fellow ; and I don't believe all 
 the arguments I can bring to bear upon 
 thee will make any impression.' 
 
 ' My dear uncle, we will never agree 
 upon that head. But what do you say to 
 the working of the new Poor Laws ? '
 
 184 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' What have I to say ? That I think the 
 seasons have been much in their favour. 
 If we had had slack times and bad harvests, 
 we would have heard more of our departed 
 friend, '' the chargeable labourer." I don't 
 often attend the Board of Guardians : how 
 are you getting on there ? ' 
 
 *We are now working out Lord John 
 EusselFs new Act on the General Eegis- 
 tration of Births, Deaths, and Marriages. 
 It seems a useful Act.' 
 
 * Oh, of course it is if it is the work of 
 the Eeformed "Whig Parliament; it could 
 not help but be good. How much better 
 is it than the old Parish Register kept in 
 the Church?' 
 
 * That can still be kept. But the clergy 
 did not always keep their record very care- 
 fully. For instance, they entered the date 
 of the christening ; but they did not always 
 say how old the infant was. And there 
 was no machinery for collecting the dates. 
 Now each registrar keeps his book, and 
 annually all will be taken together and the
 
 GAYTHOBNE HALL. 185 
 
 result published. We shall know where we 
 are nationally/ 
 
 ' As a testimony to the prosperity of the 
 country under the Whig reformers. Perhaps 
 after all Providence, and the good seasons, 
 have had something to do with this national 
 prosperity. How will it be if the seasons 
 take a turn ? * 
 
 ' They very likely will ; seasons run in 
 cycles, and I should not be at all surprised 
 if we have a series of indifferent harvests.' 
 
 * Wouldn't you ? But if bad seasons do 
 come upon us you will see what will be the 
 effect upon these reformers you seem so 
 wrapt up in. You'll find out how many 
 more mouths there will be to feed : your 
 new registration will tell you that.' 
 
 ' Then we had better know it ; and then 
 the foreign farmers will know how many 
 to provide for. If the English acres remain 
 the same, and there are so many more 
 mouths to fill, the more need of foreign 
 corn.' The old Squire perceived that this 
 line of argument was going in the wrong
 
 186 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 direction for him, so he prudently changed 
 the subject. 
 
 ' How is Edie, Jack ? Is the little horse 
 as great a favourite as ever. She has not 
 ridden up here for a fortnight : how's that ? 
 She has always been up on foot. I either 
 forgot to ask after " Daisy," or it has slipped 
 me what she said about her/ 
 
 ' The blacksmith got a nail too near the 
 quick the last time she was shod, and she 
 limped ; so Luke must needs have her 
 ridden on grass only till the foot gets well. 
 Of course Edie quite agreed to what he 
 said, and consequently she has only ridden 
 round the fields with me lately. I believe 
 the invalid is going on so well she will be 
 on the roads again shortly. Then Edie 
 will bring her up to show to you. She 
 will be very anxious to learn your opinion 
 as to whether you think the prick will do 
 any permanent harm, or not.' 
 
 ' She is a kindly-hearted creature, and 
 sets great store by her old uncle's opinion. 
 More than you do, you self-willed young
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 187 
 
 scamp 1 ' It would seem that disregard of 
 the opinions of their seniors has been a 
 characteristic of young blood from times 
 immemorial. Each age regrets the past 
 when speaking of youthful obedience to 
 their elders, or the want of it : so the 
 Squire continued : * I don't know what we 
 are coming to. It is not that the young 
 are to obey their elders ; but, that the 
 elders have to be guided in counsel by 
 their juniors.' 
 
 ' Oh no, uncle, not that quite ; but as 
 Canon Wordsworth is so fond of insisting 
 at our Board meetings — "The young to 
 pull, and the old to guide ; that is the true 
 division of labour." Don't you think he is 
 right ? ' 
 
 ' Humph ! I don't know. Take care the 
 young ones do not pull the elders' arms off 
 in their anxiety to get on. The Canon 
 knows human nature, and how to manage 
 the youthful element ; just keeps things 
 going capitally. I really don't know where 
 you could find such another chairman.'
 
 188 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 ' We would rather not have to try ; at 
 least just at present. I must be going/ 
 
 John Wharton left Gaythorne Hall, and 
 instead of going in the direction of Fowrass 
 Grange turned to Brigstone, and halted at 
 the shop of ' James Woodcock, Master 
 Shoemaker ' : knocking at the door, he then 
 lifted the latch, and bowing his head, for 
 the doorway was low, he disappeared. 
 
 ' Busy, Jim ? ' was the question asked in 
 a cheery tone. John Wharton had gone to 
 Jim Woodcock's ever since a boy. Some 
 times for a * wax-end ' (the tapering end of 
 the shoemaker's threads, in great demand 
 with boys, chiefly for the bristles with 
 which they are tipped) ; or a bit of shoe- 
 maker's wax for his silk for fishing pur- 
 poses; or, with it, a hint about the proper 
 fly for the season, and how to dress it. 
 Mrs. Wharton had discouraged his visits 
 as much as possible : not that she had 
 any objection to Jim himself, but because 
 the shoemaker's shop was a sort of village 
 lounge, where idle fellows dropped in when
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 189 
 
 tliey had no money to spend at the Black 
 Swan, or the Stanhope Arms. But Jim, 
 knowing her views on the subject, always 
 attended to Master Wharton, and got him 
 off when any undesirable characters were 
 in without delay ; conduct which Mrs. 
 Wharton appreciated. If the coast was 
 clear, then he dusted a seat with his leather 
 apron ; and, with a significant look, indicated 
 to his journeyman and apprentice the neces- 
 sity for a prudent tongue and their best 
 behaviour. 
 
 * Bless me, Mr. Wharton. Is that you ? 
 Why you're quite a stranger,' said Jim, 
 heartily. 'Will ye tek' a seat, or yell 
 stand ? ' 
 
 'I think I'll stand, Jim, if you don't 
 object ? And then I shall see if the shop 
 is altered : I think it is much the same.' 
 So saying he cast his eye around the 
 familiar sight. There were the sides of 
 brown sole-leather, and the bit of * Settle 
 blue-bend,' prized beyond all other leather 
 for durability ; and a pile of upper leather :
 
 190 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 with one hide devoted to thongs, which old 
 Jim cut so neatly. There were the balls of 
 cotton for the threads ; a bucket of water iu 
 which the spare pieces of wax floated, safe 
 from mischief; a,nd, by the window, the 
 bundle of bristles. There was the old 
 lapstone on which Jim taught the apprentice 
 to beat the soles so conscientiously ; the 
 clams for closing the uppers ; the well-worn 
 seats, with the little square divisions for 
 tacks, sparrables (the nails driven into the 
 soles) ; the wax ; while the multifarious 
 tools lay over the rest of the settle. He 
 took them all in at a glance, with the back- 
 ground of lasts hanging against the wall. 
 All was as of yore ; especially the peculiar 
 smell of a shoemaker's shop. 
 
 * I don't see any change, except in the 
 faces, Jim. They're new.' 
 
 * I'm glad the pleace isn't changed. Have 
 you bin fishing much this year, sir ? Now, 
 my lad, get on wi' th' thread. No idling 
 allowed here ! ' This was addressed to the 
 apprentice, who was slowly progressing
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 191 
 
 round an old shoe, to wMch he was attach- 
 ing a new sole : awl in one hand and a 
 bristle-pointed thread in each. * There's no 
 excuse for your hands not goin' if there is 
 some one i' th' shop/ 
 
 The boy blushed, and applied himself to 
 his work with great determination ; his 
 temporary arrest of labour being rather 
 due to amazement at the appearance of 
 the visitor, so unlike their usual visitors, 
 than to any inherent laziness. 
 
 * He's a good lad, an' a capital worker 
 upo' th' whole. I must say that for him ; ' 
 continued his master, too penetrated with 
 a sense of fairness to allow Mr. Wharton to 
 carry away a wrong impression about the 
 boy. ' Do you remember him, sir ? He 
 was th' lad I got from the Board at 
 Wybrow.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I remember him well. I am 
 glad you give him a good character. We 
 are always glad to hear how our apprentices 
 get on.' The boy applied himself to work 
 with an assiduity which told that he was
 
 192 GAYTHOUNE HALL. 
 
 resolved not to be the subject of conversa- 
 tion, if possible. ' You will set him a good 
 example, Jim, I know. And not be too 
 hard on him.' 
 
 'He's a good lad an' comes o' decent 
 people, if he is a parish apprentice : and I 
 mun' do my duty by 'im. Ould Jim's no 
 respecter of persons, — they say, that wish 
 to hav' a fling at him.' 
 
 ' Those who object to your views as a 
 reformer.' 
 
 ' That's about it, sir. And they're likely 
 to keep on saying it. I'm a people's man. 
 And they say this stir i' th' '' London 
 Working Men's Association" will lead to 
 something. Lovett's got Mr. Eoebuck to 
 tak' an interest i' th' subject, an' Colonel 
 Perronet Thompson, an' Wakley. They're 
 good men ; but I can't say I care about Dan 
 O'Connell.' 
 
 ' Then you don't fancy '* the repealer " ? ' 
 
 'I can't say I do. I don't trust him. 
 He's a man that strikes me as always 
 lookin to his own hand : to see how he
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 193 
 
 can better himself : two for mysel' and one 
 for my neighbour. But of course they 
 couldn't well do otherwise. They've long 
 kept th' public attention awake, and th' 
 petition's been signed by three thousand 
 persons. Th' House can't but notice it.' 
 ' What do you think of their programme ? ' 
 ' I think th' principle's right enough. 
 But I'm not so sure that they'll mak' any- 
 thing out. I should like to think other- 
 wise ; an' I'm right glad they're going to 
 mak' a trial. I've no opinion o' th' reform 
 of the House of Lords being listened to. 
 They'd better let that hare sit, and do their 
 best to try and get th' House o' Commons to 
 entertain th' matter o' th' Charter. You know, 
 sir, as well as I do, that the people, that is the 
 working class, hev' ni wer bin satisfied about 
 the Eeform Bill. They helped th' middle 
 classes to th' franchise, expectin' naturally, 
 that when th' middle-class got a voice, — an' 
 what's mair, a vote, they'd bear them i' 
 mind ; and help them i' turn. But reform 
 stopped where it was left in '32, and th' 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 working class feel as if they'd bin' deceived 
 like ; and as if faith hadn't been kept wi' 
 them.' 
 
 * I don't think they are wrong about that. 
 But many of the Whigs think the franchise 
 has gone low enough for the present ; and 
 are not at all inclined to take up the question 
 of further reform. They say they are doing 
 good work ; and it cannot be denied they 
 are ; and that they cannot abandon practical 
 work, which all but the ultra Tories admit 
 to be good, for chimerical work that they 
 can't see the end of. The Tories and these 
 lukewarm Whigs are too many for Lord 
 Durham's men.' 
 
 * Aye ; that's only owre true. Having got 
 what they want, they care nothing about 
 th' people. When they wanted th' franchise, 
 they could ask th' people to come to th' 
 hustings, and hold up their hands, and 
 shout ; with a riot now and again, or a stack 
 or two i' flames, just to keep th' warld i 
 mind they didn't like the Corn Laws. 
 That was all right then when it suited
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 195 
 
 them ; but it's all wrong now when they're 
 satisfied.' 
 
 Jim spoke with the bitterness which all 
 his class felt at the manner in which they 
 had been treated in the matter. They had 
 been utilized, and then cast aside. It had 
 been a bitter experience to many of the 
 earnest reformers. 
 
 ' I am afraid there is too much truth in 
 what you say, Jim. The people feel that 
 they have not been fairly, let alone well- 
 treated, in this matter. The Whigs have 
 not kept their promises, except such as it 
 suited them to keep. They have carried 
 some very important measures ; such as the 
 Parliament, as constituted before the Reform, 
 would never have attempted.' 
 
 * That's what makes it so hard to bide. 
 The Tories reckoned that if th' Reform Bill 
 passed, th' end o' all things was at hand ; 
 that th' bonds o' society would be unloosed, 
 and that all 'ud be anarchy. Instid o' that 
 we've seen seek mighty deeds dune as we 
 nivver saw afore. There's th' new Poor 
 
 2
 
 196 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Law ; and th' slave abolition ; and th' Educa- 
 tion vote ; and th' newspaper stamp, and th' 
 duty off paper ; th' masses are to hav' inform- 
 ation ; and Lord Ashley askin' about th' 
 " white slave " at home. There was Cor- 
 poration reform ; and th' doing away wi' th' 
 press-gang. It's a grand roll o' deeds ; but 
 ane can see th' energy's wearing out o' th' 
 Whigs ; half of 'em are getting tired, and 
 wantin' to rest. And th' people cry, " See 
 th' results o' Reform ! Let us hav' mair 
 Eeform, and we'll hav' still greater results 1 " 
 Surely they've reason upo' their side i' that ? 
 If all th' forecasts of evil indulged in by th' 
 Tories hav' remained unrealized, what right 
 hav' they to keep on saying that all manner 
 of evil will happen if th' franchise's lowered 
 any further ? It's all a pack o' lies ! That's 
 my opinion, sir.' 
 
 * The argument that any further lowering 
 of the franchise will be followed by mob-law, 
 — by the rule of numbers, and that the many 
 unwise will rule the few wise, and destruc- 
 tion lie close ahead of us, is quite d priori
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 197 
 
 argument ; which is not borne out by our 
 experience of Eeform, and is certainly 
 negatived by the experience of Switzerland 
 and the United States of America.' 
 
 ' They know that as well as we do ; but 
 they'll neither read the past, nor look around 
 them. Th' many unwise rule the few wise ! 
 — aye, and how have the few wise ruled us 1 
 Over a million of us working men hav' 
 perished i' the bloody wars they've waged 
 since th' last century began. And how 
 much money hav' these wars cost ? Not less 
 than three thousand millions o' money. 
 That is what class legislation has done for 
 us. Just think what that auld fule George 
 th' Third cost us wi' his war wi' France. 
 Because France threw off those Bourbons — 
 an' sarved them reet too — and would be 
 ruled her own way, " we must have a bloody 
 war with France ; a long and bloody war," 
 said Burke i' th' House o' Commons. To 
 be sure his brain was givin' way, an' he 
 was not th' man he once was. But to 
 think that because France was tired o' they
 
 198 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Bourbons, that niwer learned ought nor for- 
 gat ought, we mun' ga t' war wi' her. What 
 did that cost th' country, d'ye think ? I 
 think th' many unwise could do quite as 
 sensibly as th' few wise hav' done, i' some 
 o' their ^^ class legislation/' ' 
 
 John Wharton knew that ' the black 
 record of class legislation,' the cost of our 
 wars waged for dynastic purposes, in men 
 and money, were stock arguments with the 
 reformers before and after the Reform Bill ; 
 and that no satisfactory answers ever had 
 been made to the charge. So he kept 
 silence, and did not break in on the thread 
 of the old reformer's thoughts ; but as he 
 took in the effect he could not help being 
 somewhat amused. The journeyman was 
 putting the last touch to the soles of a pair 
 of shoes, but was arrested by the harangue ; 
 there he sat with the little candle burning 
 with which he heated his iron to smooth 
 the black rim of the soles, burning but only 
 wasting ; his tool in his hand, but no use 
 made of it. The apprentice was industri-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 199 
 
 ously using his awl, then fumbling his 
 bristles through the hole and drawing the 
 threads taut with an unsteady hand and 
 unpractised arm ; giving himself to his work 
 with abandon, after having been the subject 
 of conversation and attention. Alone — he 
 had no interest in the burning words of the 
 speaker. 
 
 * Aye, th' unwise many hav' a score again 
 th' wise few, for the auld days. But it's 
 nought to what they think about th' Corn 
 Laws. There's a bit o' class legislation, if 
 ye like ! . There's no denying that ! That 
 th' poor man's bread has to be taxed that 
 th' landlord wi' his mortgaged acres can get 
 his rent ! Do ye think that one o' God's 
 laws ? Nay indeed ; it's th' wickedest 
 law man ivver invented. That th' land- 
 owners may live i' plenty the poor man's 
 bairn can't get enough o' bread. I've 
 watched th' eflfects o' th' taxed bread-laws ; 
 the childer' getting whiter and shorter ; less 
 bone to fill out wi' th' flesh they nivver 
 get ; a punier race altogether than their
 
 200 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 
 
 fathers an' grandfathers. Especially i' th 
 towns you see th' childer' growing up into 
 weedy men and lasses. Th' young fellows 
 ye'll see now are nothin' like th' fine 
 straight old chaps that ye see here and 
 there, the men that fought Bonny. I've 
 watched th' results of that divilish law, an' 
 see them i' th' faces of th' growin' genera- 
 tion. Just luik at th' lad there : d'ye think 
 he'll ivver get to six foot ? — yet his father 
 stood six feet in his stockings.' 
 
 The allusion to him seemed to strike the 
 boy as reflecting upon him in some way, 
 and his face flushed ; while he fumbled more 
 than usual with his awl, and seemed ready 
 to burst into tears. His kindly-hearted old 
 master did not observe this, else he would 
 have had his word of explanation and 
 approval, to put the boy's mind at ease. 
 Not noticing the efi'ect of the allusion, he 
 pursued his line of thought. 
 
 * They'll find their reward, sir, when they 
 see and realize what they've done. They've 
 cut down th' bone and th' sinew of th'
 
 GAYTHOPvNE HALL. 201 
 
 country wi' their class legislation, and the 
 bread-tax. D'y^ think a law like that 
 would ivver hav' been passed if tV people 
 that eat th' bread had had a voice i' th' 
 law-makin' ? Not it. The poor know 
 they've been sacrificed to th' interests o' th' 
 great. Times are good, an' wages are good, 
 an' th' harvests hav' been good ; an' for a 
 year or two there's been no want to goad 
 th' people to madness. But just let times 
 tak' a change, an' you'll see what '11 happen. 
 Th' red cock '11 crow again, ye '11 see. I had 
 a man wi' me a year or two ago that was 
 working i' th' west when th' Bristol riots 
 brak' out. He said it was na uncommon 
 thing to luik out of a neet, and see a stack 
 blazing : that was nothing thought of. The 
 folk that had to eat th' taxed loaf burnt a 
 stack when they wer' hungry. Hungry folk 
 are not reasonable folk ; and th' proverb 
 says, " Oppression will mak' a wise man 
 mad." And an empty stomach is a Strang 
 argument ; and an indifierent heart maks 
 th' empty stomach a' th' worse to bear.
 
 202 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 The let-well-alone party i' th' Hoose will 
 perhaps doubt their wisdom i' refusing to 
 alter th' Corn Laws if bad times come, an' 
 th' red cock begins to crow again. What 
 was that cost th' Bourbons their heads i' th' 
 French Revolution ? It wasn't so much th' 
 rule o' th' Bourbons, tho' God knows that 
 was bad enough. It was that speech o' 
 Queen Marie Antoinette, when they telled 
 her th' poor o' Paris were famishing for 
 want o' bread, " Then let them eat legs o' 
 mutton." Legs o' mutton ! — that might be 
 a come-down for a queen ; but legs o' mutton 
 were out o' th' reach o' folks that couldn't 
 get enough o' bread to fill their stomachs 
 wi'. The Charter '11 be a grand thing. Th' 
 barons wrested a charter fra' King John ; 
 now th' people '11 wrest a new charter fra' 
 th' legislative order, — th' great folk that rule 
 us, an' mak' th' laws for us. When we've 
 our own Parliament, then th' laws '11 be 
 just, and proportioned to th' wants o' th' 
 nation. Not a patch here, and a bit o' 
 justice there ; but broad comprehensive
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 203 
 
 laws sic as we hav' had a few since th' 
 reformed Parliament gat to wark. Let ns 
 hav' th' Charter, and then th' bread-laws '11 
 soon be abolished ; an' a few mair thinors 
 beside. There's a many need it.' 
 
 The old man pulled up at last, seeming 
 to recollect himself. 
 
 ' You have the heart of the old reformer 
 in you yet, Jim. Peterloo has not been 
 forgotten. And you really do think that 
 the Charter would be desirable ? Is there 
 not some real fear that if the franchise was 
 extended there would be some danger of 
 ignorance getting the upper hand some- 
 times ? Is there not something in that 
 argument ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; there is something ! It is a refuge 
 for those who are determined to let things 
 remain as they are. Th* rough, ignorant 
 fellows cannot rule th' rest o' society. 
 There's not euough of them 1 Here and 
 there thev miorht cast an election ; but that 
 would have no real influence. They nivver 
 could do anything unless their demand had
 
 204 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 til' country at its back. There's no real 
 danger, sir, fra them. The ignorant folk 
 are not so proud o' their ignorance, as to 
 want to Stan' again' their betters. Not 
 they ! They'll want to go wi' other folk, 
 ye '11 see. Unless, as I said, hunger comes 
 to upset them. Th' empty stomach argu- 
 ment will touch th' poorer end, no doubt ; 
 but then who '11 be to blame for that ? 
 Why th' men that made th' Corn laws, 
 and th' men that uphold them. But the 
 Charter's right, so far as it goes. They '11 
 hav' to agitate and mak' a row over th' 
 feace o' th' land, afore any notice '11 be taken 
 o' them. But if they stick to what is legal 
 they '11 win notice. " Hold fast by th' 
 laws," that was auld Major Cartwright's 
 advice i' th' auld days afore Peterloo ; an' 
 it was sound advice too. Now, sir, you're 
 a sensible man, that I know o' my own 
 experience ; an' a far-larned man by what I 
 hear ; do you think now ' — and here Jim 
 dropped his vernacular in order to give 
 emphasis to what he said — ' As a reasoning
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 205 
 
 man, do you think that change will come 
 from those that are satisfied ; or do you 
 think the dissatisfied will have to win 
 over the satisfied to their way of think- 
 ing ? What is your opinion on that 
 subject ? " 
 
 ' Put in that way, Jim, of course I agree 
 with you : the satisfied will not move until 
 the dissatisfied have put them into action. 
 The principle must be adiriitted ; but how 
 about the practice^ — the getting it worked 
 out ? ' 
 
 * Aye, sir ; that's the rub ! But if those 
 that can think won't help those that 
 can not ; what will be th' result, d'ye 
 think ? Those that hav' th' cause o' 
 th' people at heart must tak' th' lead. 
 There's no other way for it, that I can 
 see.' 
 
 * It is a matter one can not shirk, or 
 thrust from one ; one must be for it, or 
 against it. I am a Benthamite — the happi- 
 ness of the greatest number is the true 
 aim.'
 
 206 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 ' You'll have no difficulty, sir, in decid- 
 ino^ i' that case. You must be a Chartist ! ' 
 
 ' It would seem so ! ' and John Wharton 
 left the master shoemaker, and went away 
 in deep thought.
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 207 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE CLOUD GATHERS. 
 
 While John Wharton was taking a 
 practical interest in the condition of the 
 people, and working hard as a guardian, his 
 sister shared his interests and imbibed his 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 ' Am I powerless to help in the work ? Is 
 there no way in which I could make myself 
 useful ? Women seem restricted to domestic 
 work. Are there no other spheres for her ? 
 Is she simply to look on ? ' said Miss 
 Wharton one evening;, after a long; talk with 
 her brother on the state of the people. 
 
 * I do not know, I am sure ; certainly 
 not in the way in which I am engaged. 
 Perhaps Mr. Pry or could utilize you. Mere 
 perfunctory district -visiting, because it is
 
 208 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 right to be trying to do some good, or as a 
 lady-like occupation admitting of the grati- 
 fication of curiosity and a prying into the 
 affairs of the poor, will never gain his 
 approval. But if you seriously wish to do 
 something and to help, I am sure you will 
 find him most willing to aid you.' 
 
 Having thought the matter over until she 
 was confident that she was in earnest, and 
 not persuading herself she was in earnest 
 and so deluding herself, Miss Wharton went 
 one day to off'er her services as a volunteer. 
 The Eectory was a large, roomy edifice of 
 imposing character, suggestive of a comfort- 
 able stipend, very neatly kept, and bearing 
 evidence of attention and taste. The Eev. 
 Henry Pryor was a large, heavy, yet not 
 corpulent, man. That he was kind-hearted, 
 industrious, and active has been shown ; 
 he was also thoroughly sincere, and full of 
 the dignity of his office. Mrs. Pryor was 
 middle-sized, energetic, kindly, and well- 
 informed, a good housekeeper, and a well- 
 read, intelligent companion to her husband.
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 209 
 
 Miss Wharton looked up to her, and con- 
 sulted her in all difficulties ; except such as 
 she brought before her uncle's housekeeper, 
 Mrs. AUonby, which greatly flattered that 
 functionary's vanity. One day she was rather 
 surprised by Miss Wharton saying, * I am 
 come with a new want, Mrs. Pryor ; I am 
 anxious to be doing something among the 
 people ; I seem to be leading such an idle 
 life.' 
 
 ' My dear, how can you call yours an 
 idle life ? Henry often says how you are 
 always engaged in something or another ; 
 that your hands are always full when he 
 calls ; and I know how many comforters 
 you knit for the poor.' 
 
 ' That is true. But I want to be doing 
 something more. What John tells me 
 about the condition of the poor has im- 
 pressed me : so I have come to offer my 
 services to Mr. Pryor as a volunteer.' 
 
 *Then you must wait till he comes in. 
 He is out at present, but will be in shortly. 
 Can you stay with me ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' I should certainly like to do so, if I am 
 not in the way.' 
 
 ' Put your mind at rest on that head. I 
 shall be glad to have your company. I 
 should indeed be glad to see more of you ; 
 but I could not say so when you were 
 occupied with nursing your mother ; may I 
 say so now ? ' 
 
 ' Tt is very kind of you ; but really what 
 with going over the farm with John, and 
 riding out with him, and calling upon Uncle 
 Edward, and attending to housekeeping, 
 where I found I had much to learn, and 
 learning to make butter with Mrs. Ellwood ; 
 my time seemed quite taken up. And then 
 John likes me to take an interest in what he 
 is reading in an evening, and I feel interested 
 in it, and the evenings slip away so quickly 
 I seemed to have no spare time. But I feel 
 I ought to be doing something more. I 
 hope Mr. Pryor will not think I am going 
 to be a meddlesome person in the parish.' 
 
 ' He will have to change his opinion con- 
 siderably if he does. Have you read about
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 211 
 
 the young Queen, — how she received the 
 deputation announcing her uncle's death ? 
 The King seems to have died rather unex- 
 pectedly, with his head on Queen Adelaide's 
 shoulder. The young Queen was in bed, 
 and had to dress hastily to receive the 
 deputies. It was a trying scene for her.' 
 
 ' It must have been ; but she carried 
 herself through it with much dignity.' 
 
 ' So she did. One is naturally very 
 desirous of knowing something about her. 
 Her mother seems to have brought her up 
 in great seclusion ; and her father died 
 in debt ; they must have had to practise 
 economy.' 
 
 ' It gives one quite an' interest in her to 
 learn this. The coronation must also have 
 taxed her self-command.' 
 
 ' She seems to have behaved quite prettily, 
 and to have won the hearts of all. Lord 
 Melbourne and the Duke of Wellington are 
 like parents to the fatherless girl. For that 
 is what she is, though she is also Queen of 
 England.' 
 
 P 2
 
 212 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 
 
 ' Yes ; it is more than seems to have been 
 expected of Lord Melbourne from what one 
 has heard of him. The Duke, of course, 
 is another sort of person altogether.' 
 
 *And this action of paying her father's 
 debts as soon as she has the means, be- 
 tokens a good disposition. It is a promising 
 beginning.' 
 
 Just at this moment the Eector en- 
 tered. 
 
 'What is this about "a promising begin- 
 ning," Agnes ? How do you do. Miss 
 Wharton,' he said, cordially shaking hands 
 with her. 
 
 ' We were talking about the Queen going 
 to pay her father's debts.' 
 
 ' And why should she not, like any other 
 girl who has got the means at last to 
 carry out her wishes ? Quite proper, Miss 
 Wharton, eh ? ' 
 
 * But Miss Wharton also wants to make a 
 beginning ; she is a young lady of merit, 
 too, I think.' 
 
 ' Certainly. What is it, Miss Wharton ? '
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 213 
 
 She explained her errand with much 
 diffidence and many apologies. 
 
 ' I may seem to have remained oblivious 
 of what I now think my duty for a long 
 time. But I have explained to Mrs. Pryor 
 how it was I had many demands upon my 
 time.' 
 
 * I think I comprehend the circumstances, 
 Miss Wharton. You need not take yourself 
 to task. It is not yet the eleventh hour. 
 And if it were, who am I to judge ? ' 
 
 * It looks rather like it though, does it 
 not?' 
 
 * I can't admit that. But with so engaging 
 a volunteer, what can a parochial pastor do? 
 Certainly he can not decline her services.' 
 
 After much consultation it was decided 
 that Mrs. Pryor and Miss Wharton should 
 make periodical visits to the poor. 
 
 * You will not make it uncomfortable for 
 them. The poor things have got used to 
 me ; and don't mind my visits. They will 
 feel rather afraid of you at first; especially 
 you, Miss Wharton. The people here are
 
 214 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 accustomed to look up to the Whartons 
 as people immeasurably above them. Your 
 uncle is held in great awe, as well as 
 respect, I can assure you. And what does 
 he say to this proposal of yours, Miss 
 Wharton ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he grumbled at first, and said the 
 admixture of the Marston blood had curi- 
 ously altered the Wharton character. The 
 Whartons were distinctly patrician, he said ; 
 but the Marstons are certainly plebeian in 
 their instincts. He says it is rather hard 
 upon a Tory Squire to have only one 
 nephew and one niece, and both bitten with 
 such Kadical tendencies. He calls John a 
 " Chartist," because he holds the Charter 
 would be an improvement on the present 
 state of affairs. ' 
 
 * It is not likely that he and your brother 
 will take the same sides on that question. 
 He is a worthy old gentleman, but he is 
 certainly wedded to the past ; and the 
 word Eeform is very objectionable to him.* 
 
 'It is a source of perpetual wonder to
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 215 
 
 me that he has not wedded in the past,' 
 commented Mrs. Pryor, who held strong 
 views on prepositions. ' Such a fine hand- 
 some man, and always so courteous to the 
 sex, too ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I cannot tell why Uncle Edward 
 has remained a bachelor. He was very fond 
 of mother, and my brother, and self.' 
 
 ' I fancy that has had a great deal to do 
 with it ; he would not have you disinherited, 
 even by children of his own.' 
 
 ' My wife looks upon your uncle, Miss 
 Wharton, as a sort of modern knight- errant 
 in the romantic self-devotion with which 
 she credits him.' 
 
 ' I do not think I do anything of the kind, 
 Henry. I think him a splendid specimen of 
 the country gentleman. Canon Wordsworth 
 with all his height and his appearance, never 
 looks so thoroughbred as Mr. Wharton.' 
 
 ' You see she is devoted to her idol. It 
 is useless to attempt to influence the opinions 
 of your sex in matters of that kind. So we 
 will change the subject. You are my two
 
 216 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 lady-curates, when do you propose to set 
 to work. The summer is getting on, and 
 the outlook of things is not very promising. 
 We have had good harvests now for a few 
 years. A change may be at hand. I should 
 like you to commence before the bad weather, 
 and, perhaps too, the bad times, come. It 
 would be well to know something of your 
 own observations about the poor before the 
 time arrives, when ycur discrimination may 
 be taxed.* 
 
 ' Perhaps the female eye may possess some 
 power of observation not given to the male 
 eye. We may not need so long a time to 
 estimate the women at least, as is necessary 
 in the case of the lords of creation.' 
 
 Mrs. Pryor was full of the respect due 
 to her husband, as head of the house and 
 spiritual head of the parish ; but a little 
 playful banter escaped her at times. 
 
 * Then make a good use of the power, 
 please. Now I have something to attend 
 to, and will leave you ladies to lay down 
 your plans.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 217 
 
 Accordingly they set to work to devise 
 what time they could devote to the work ; 
 how they should cut out their visits so as 
 to take ill the different portions of the 
 parish, and see each section in turn. At 
 last this was satisfactorily arranged. 
 
 ' One thing remains, Miss Wharton, that 
 must be considered, and carefully considered 
 by us, and it is this : What are we going to 
 do to help these poor people, — when we have 
 decided that they are proper persons to be 
 helped ? ' 
 
 * I have been trying to think about it ; 
 but have come to no satisfactory conclusion.' 
 
 * They will scarcely thank us if we have 
 never anything more for them than words ; 
 yet at the same time we must not let them 
 expect too much from us. A certain por- 
 tion, I fear, will look at us from the stand- 
 point of what they can get. ' 
 
 * I suppose they will. But we must use 
 our eyes. Cleanliness, I think, would weigh 
 with me.' 
 
 * It is not a bad thing to start from. Yet
 
 218 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 I fear in some of the houses there can be no 
 cleanliness ; we must take some other test.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to say there are people 
 who do not care about cleanliness, or that it 
 is impossible for them ? ' 
 
 ' I fear in some cases it is scarcely reason- 
 able to expect much of it.' 
 
 * How shocking ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid we must make up our minds 
 to see a great deal we would rather not see ; 
 and be compelled to know much we would 
 rather not know.' 
 
 ' I have thought of that. But the know- 
 ledge can do us no harm.. Can it ?' 
 
 * I think not. But there will be much to 
 think about which will not be pleasant 
 matter for thought.' 
 
 * I am prepared for that. Let us know 
 ,the facts. Knowledge must precede action/ 
 
 ' A very pretty axiom, Miss Wharton ; 
 but the acquisition of the knowledge will 
 involve much that, at times at least, we 
 may wish we had never known. You are 
 young, very young, you know.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 219 
 
 M suppose I am. But my mother always 
 trained me to look at tilings as tliey are. 
 Knowledge is always better than ignorance. 
 There may be a healthy knowledge and an 
 unhealthy ignorance, you would say. I 
 thought all over well before I made up my 
 mind.' 
 
 * On this understanding, then, we will pro- 
 ceed. We are not going to pose as Ladies 
 Bountiful. That is one satisfactory thought.' 
 
 And so they started on their visits, and 
 were variously received. By some distantly, 
 as if suspicious of their motives. By others 
 cordially ; in some cases so cordially as to 
 raise the suspicions of the visitors. By all, 
 w^h ether distant or cordial, wdth respect. 
 
 One old crone confined to the house with 
 the rheumatism was very glad to see them, 
 and to be read to. 
 
 ' Eh, bless ye, ladies, I'm pleased to see 
 ye. Mr. Pry or often reads to me, whenivver 
 he has th' toime ; but he hasn't over mich 
 o' that to spare for me. I've my share 1 
 But sit ye doan ; don't stan' about i' th'
 
 220 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 floar.' Taking chairs as requested, one 
 would read a chapter slowly, with careful 
 enunciation, and with explanation where re- 
 quired. ' Eh, but it does me good to hear 
 ye ! Ye read soa different fro' th' other folk. 
 I can understand ye. They ayther read too 
 fast for me, or they stop to spell th' words, 
 and then I loise th' sense of it.' 
 
 In another cottage they found a young 
 woman whom Mrs. Pryor remembered some 
 years before as a domestic servant. 
 
 ' When I knew her first she was a smart 
 girl, with a face always clean, her hair neat, 
 with a clean apron ; and see now, poor 
 thing, her face is dirty, her tangled hair 
 over her eyes, her apron all crumpled and 
 dirty, and her whole appearance slovenly 
 and neglected.' * How is this, Annie ? ' 
 she asked. * You are not so neat as you 
 used to be.' 
 
 * It's all very well, ma'am ; when you've a 
 good hahse (house) to live in yo can tak' 
 some proide in it, and yer sen'. But leuk 
 at this hut, wi' th' rain coming in hear and
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 221 
 
 tliear. It's heart-breakkin' ; ane nivver can 
 be tidy. Gi' me anuther hahse, and I'll be 
 anotber woman.' 
 
 Tbe argument seemed on tbe face of it a 
 very strong one. 
 
 Tbey bad not pursued tbeir visits long 
 before it seemed very clear tbat there were 
 many families where the father was gone, 
 leaving a young widow with a large family 
 of little ones. In many such cases it was 
 simply impossible for the widows to earn 
 sufficient for their families. The death of 
 the father meant parochial aid, and that 
 again pauperism. 
 
 * It is very sad,' said Mrs. Pryor one 
 day ; ' Henry tells me this is the outcome 
 of the early marriages engendered by the 
 old Poor Law. A young fellow found it 
 easy to get parochial relief when he had 
 nothing except bare walls, and a wife and 
 two or three children : there was no ques- 
 tion about it. So he never tried to do any 
 better. Henry says that in the evidence 
 given before the Commission about the
 
 222 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 working of the old law, one man said, " I 
 had saved a little money, got a cow and 
 a pig or two, and got my cottage fairly 
 well-furnished. My master was obliged to 
 discharcre me : he had no more work for 
 me. I couldn't find any work. I couldn't 
 get work. I was ' an independent labourer,' 
 and I could not take the wages of ' the 
 chargeable labourer,' who got an allowance 
 from the parish ; I could not live on such 
 wao^es. So all went : and when I was 
 beggared of everything, then I got parish 
 pay, and with it and the wages I earned I 
 got on." ' 
 
 ' How very horrible ! Why it seems that 
 that was the very way to encourage pauper- 
 ism. There was no inducement for a man 
 to try to have a decent cottage and to save 
 a little.' 
 
 " That was the effect of the old law. 
 All these young widows were married under 
 the old law ; paupers they are, and paupers 
 they must be till their children grow up.' 
 
 * I often hear John talk about the results
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 223 
 
 of the new Poor Laws. I hope they will 
 do the work which is expected of them.' 
 
 ' This early widowhood and pauperism 
 is a sad thino^. There is no chance of a 
 widow with a family getting married again. 
 No man will start to work for what 
 they call hereabouts " a ready - made 
 family." ' 
 
 * Well, one could hardly expect him. It 
 is scarcely likely a man would. But it is 
 very hard all the same for the widows.' 
 
 Then they came to a cottage where an old 
 dame was looking after a number of very 
 young children. 
 
 ' Where have you got all these little ones 
 from, Grannie ? ' asked Mrs. Pryor. 
 
 * Eh, ye may well ask me that. Their 
 mothers are away i' th' hay-field, makin' 
 a little brass for th' winter. They pay me 
 a trifie to leuk after th' childer.' 
 
 * You have one or two asleep, I see. How 
 good they are ! ' remarked Miss Wharton. 
 
 ' Aye, the're good childer', these. The're 
 varry quiet ; they sleep most o' ther toime.
 
 224 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 But I gi'e them a little drop when they 
 wakes, an' then they goes off ageain.' 
 
 ' What do you give them in the little 
 drop ? ' 
 
 'Just a drop o' laudanum i' some gin. 
 It sleeps them foin. They's vary good 
 wi' it.' 
 
 ' But don't a great many die with it ? ' 
 
 ' I can't say as they does.' 
 
 ' But the doctor tells a diiferent tale. 
 He says half the children hereabouts die 
 before they are three years old.' 
 
 ' I can't think as th' doctor's reet aboot 
 hear. It may be true i' th' touns. I've 
 heard it said about Sheflfeeld. But ye can't 
 keep them quiet no uther way as I knows 
 of Leuk at that 'un liggin' i' th' corner. 
 Fra th' moment he's awake the cry 's nivver 
 out of his mouth till he's had a drop, and 
 then he drops off in a minute.' 
 
 On looking carefully at the child they 
 found its face in deep wrinkles, looking 
 rather more like an old person's face reduced, 
 than an infant's face.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 225 
 
 ' She loises flesh, she does ; sh'll nut be 
 long wi' us, that 'un, I fear.' 
 
 It was clear the old woman looked upon 
 gin and laudanum as part of the necessaries 
 of life ; and a high infant mortality as part 
 of the plan of Providence for keeping down 
 the population. 
 
 ' Bless ye, they nivver misses 'em. As 
 one gooes another comes. They've always 
 as many as they can feed.' 
 
 ' What a Malthusian old wretch she is ; ' 
 said Mrs. Pryor, after they had turned 
 away. 
 
 * The cold-blooded old vampire ! Getting 
 a living by sucking the life-blood out of 
 those unhappy infants.' 
 
 ' She does not see it in that light. She 
 makes a trifle by looking after them w^hile 
 their mothers are helping their fathers in 
 the fields. They are so accustomed to see 
 children tended, and kept quiet by tliis, or 
 some other like means, that they think 
 nothing about it.' 
 
 ' She seemed a kind-hearted old body, 
 
 VOL. 1. Q
 
 226 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 who would not be unkind to them. And 
 3he was very clean, — kept herself clean, and 
 the children, as far as she could. 
 
 'Old Hannah is held in great respect, I 
 can assure you. She is in great demand 
 hereabouts in hay-time and harvest ; and 
 is rather a character.' Mrs. Pry or had 
 accompanied her husband often enough to 
 know the parish well. They saw much 
 that was painful, much that they deplored, 
 much that they would willingly blot out of 
 their recollection, had that been possible. 
 
 Especially was this the case when they got 
 to the edge of the parish lying close to the 
 Satanstoe collieries. Bad as things were 
 before, they found them worse there. The 
 cottages were worse kept ; there w^as more 
 dirt about ; the gardens, what there were 
 of them, were untilled and overgrown with 
 weeds. The same number of children 
 were seen about, the same slatternly 
 wenches, only more of them ; many, too, 
 without the wedding-ring of the married 
 woman. The morals of the pitmen were
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 227 
 
 sadly loose ; indeed they could scarcely be 
 said to have any morals. AVhat could be 
 expected "? Women and children worked in 
 the pits at that time under the men — rough, 
 reckless fellows, who gambled with life, and 
 whose pleasures were of the lowest. Their 
 highest pleasure was music, and many of 
 them sang well. But beyond that it was 
 drink — and worse. And what could be 
 expected ? A man would go to the work- 
 houses far and near, and hire apprentices, 
 lads who for seven years would never have 
 a penny to call their own. Such a boy was 
 a ' butty,' merely a slave of his master. 
 He would treat his own children much the 
 same. When the poor little fellows were 
 mere children they were taken down into 
 the pits, to keep the doors here and there ; 
 when they heard the little waggon coming 
 they pulled open the door, and woe betide 
 them if they were found asleep. Yet they 
 had to sit all alone in the darkness without 
 a light. The waggons were drawn by 
 boys a little older, who had been door-
 
 228 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 keepers themselves ; and who revenged the 
 suffering they, as such, had undergone upon 
 the poor little wretches at their mercy. 
 
 But the waggons were not always drawn 
 by boys. It was given in evidence before a 
 Royal Commission that women and girls 
 worked in the coal-pits. With a chain 
 around the waist, boys or gills upon all- 
 fours drew the waggons along by chains 
 which passed between their legs, — through 
 ways more like a common sewer than any- 
 thing else. Labour in the pits utterly 
 brutalized the women who worked there. 
 They had no sense of decency left ; and 
 never washed their bodies, only tbeir faces, 
 necks, and ears. The clothes of boys and 
 girls who were ' drawers,' as they were 
 termed, wore the dirt off as they themselves 
 were worn out. On Sundays the collier 
 would turn out, if a buck, in white 
 stockings, and very tall shirt-necks, stiffly 
 starched, and even ruffles at times ; with his 
 best clothes on ; his ' posy jacket,' as he 
 called his best coat, from the * posy ' or
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 229 
 
 flower he was wont to wear in the button- 
 hole. But underneath this finery he was 
 utterly unwashed, and his skin was in- 
 grained with coal-dust. Sights they saw 
 here that neither maid nor mother should 
 see. They might have said as Kingsley 
 said in his ' Rough Rhymes on a Rough 
 Matter/ at a later day : 
 
 'Our daughters with base-born babies 
 Have wandered away in their shame ; 
 
 If your misses had slept, Squire, where they did, 
 Your misses might do the same.' 
 
 But they went through it all dutifully ; 
 
 bearing in mind that unto the pure in heart 
 
 all is pure. Amidst these brutalized beings 
 
 who had lost all but the semblance of 
 
 womanhood, they went stoutly. 
 
 ' Gie mah my coit, th' leddies ar' comin',' 
 
 a rude collier would say, who had been all 
 
 but nude ; so far as a thick covering of 
 
 dried sweat and coal-dust permitted of the 
 
 word * nude ' being applied. * Ah'd geen 
 
 owre leuking for 'en to-day. Let mah hev' 
 
 my booits. I mun hev' them on when they 
 
 come into th' hahse.'
 
 230 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 All tried to put on their best appearance 
 when the ladies were in the neighbourhood. 
 In one house into which they entered they 
 found a collier lying in bed, with an injury. 
 He had had a quarrel with a mate in the pit, 
 and had been hit by him with his pick. He 
 had received an ugly wound, and the other 
 man was in gaol for the assault. They saw a 
 pick in the corner of the room ; and on asking 
 why it was there, were told that it was the 
 pick with which the injury had been inflicted, 
 and that it was very carefully watched. If 
 the pick rusted, the wound would canker ; 
 in which case the man would die. 
 
 ' It is inconceivable,' said Miss Wharton, 
 when they had got outside the house, ' that 
 such a superstition should linger still in 
 these days. Why, this takes one back to 
 the middle ages ; or rather to the dark ages 
 before them.' 
 
 ' It tells of the state of mind of the 
 collier, poor fellow ; no wonder^ with his 
 range of mind, if his pleasures are coarse : of 
 the earth, earthy ! '
 
 GAYTHOHNE HALL. 231 
 
 ' We must Dot judge them too harshly/ 
 Such were the experiences Mrs. Pryor 
 and Miss Wharton met in their visits about 
 the parish of Brigstone. Often they found 
 poverty which they were glad to relieve. 
 Often, too, they found poverty where some 
 counsel was as much required as an}^ 
 material help. Sometimes the poverty 
 seemed wilful. But everywhere almost 
 they saw evidence of lack of thrift, — the 
 want of preparation for a rainy day. Each 
 could intelligentlv follow the conversation 
 when it ran on the poor, the state of the 
 country, and the price of food. And as the 
 harvest went on the weather worsened, and 
 it became clear the price of corn must rise. 
 Already the corn merchants were holding 
 their stocks, and forcing up prices. It was 
 becoming only too clear that a certain 
 amount of ' clamming ' was inevitable. 
 
 ' We will have that ugly argument old 
 Jim Woodcock dreads so, to deal with ere 
 long, I fear — " the empty stomach," — and a 
 terrible argument it is,' John Wharton
 
 232 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 would remark. ' Tlie rouoh fellows who 
 have had a sort of rade plenty for a year 
 or two will begin to feel the pinch ; and 
 then they will raise an outcry for the old 
 " outdoor relief," and perhaps riot. I am 
 sorely afraid we shall soon see troublous 
 times.' 
 
 Miss Wharton would listen with a feeling 
 of impending evil. Her recent experiences 
 had made these topics of enthralling interest 
 to her. She was almost as absorljed in them 
 as her brother himself. If her grasp of 
 the subject w^as not so wide, her sympathy 
 was even keener.
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CHANGE OF FRONT. 
 
 No one can suppose that in a society so 
 limited as the world of Brigstone, the new 
 step taken by Mrs. Pry or and Miss Wharton 
 passed unnoticed. It attracted the attention 
 of alL The Rector, of course, approved of 
 it. Squire Wharton said : 
 
 ' My sister-in-law was a clever, well- 
 informed, good woman ; but she brought 
 up the children too much to think for 
 themselves : because they think differently 
 from their elders, it does not follow they 
 are wiser. This admixture of blood is a 
 queer thing: the Whartons were never given 
 to these whimsies ; they left the Govern- 
 ment to look after the people. This interest 
 in the people only upsets them, I fear.
 
 234 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Still, it is not a matter in which I can 
 interfere/ 
 
 The people took various views. One saw 
 very little come out of it ; the poor had got 
 little. Another did not see why one family 
 should have benefited, while another had 
 been passed over ; she would have dis- 
 tributed the charity differently. But as she 
 did not practically interfere in the way of 
 doing anything for those who, in her 
 opinion, had been passed over, it is not 
 necessary to set much store by her thoughts. 
 
 * Perhaps,' said another, ' since the ladies 
 are beginning to look into things for 
 thersens, we may get some better laws. 
 There is a stir being made up in London 
 about the Charter ; and, I hear, against the 
 Corn-Laws too ; but it will never reach 
 Brigstone, I fear. But the ladies' visiting 
 may do something.' 
 
 A larger section were of the opinion that 
 a number of the old people had got com- 
 fortable winter wraps, the work of Miss 
 Whartou ; and so had reason to be thankful.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 235 
 
 It was a step which was a good deal 
 canvassed among the better classes of so- 
 ciety. Now, it is quite usual for ladies in 
 the best social positions to visit the poor, 
 even to the lowest neighbourhoods. Nothing 
 is said of such action but approval. But 
 at that time such action was novel ; and 
 novelty always brings upon itself much 
 criticism ; and, usually, among minds op- 
 posed to all change, a certain amount of 
 condemnation. Even Canon Wordsworth 
 thought it a questionable step. Meeting 
 the Kector and John Wharton one day, 
 before the Board met at Wybrow, he opened 
 up the subject abruptly. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, how is all in the parish 
 of Wybrow 1 What do the ladies say about 
 the people ? I am afraid they see much 
 that they ought not to see.' 
 
 ' In what way ? ' asked John Wharton. 
 
 ' Sights and scenes a lady does not care 
 to look upon ; much that they must revolt 
 at.' 
 
 ' And if they do,' said the Eector, firmlj^
 
 236 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' shall they go on in ignorance that it 
 exists, not knowing and not caring ; or if 
 it is there, and they see it, and if they 
 think it should not be, should they not 
 say so ? Which of the two is to be pre- 
 ferred ? If there exists what they ought 
 not to see, should we shut our eyes to the 
 facts? — or ought we to recognize its exist- 
 ence and do away with it? Surely the whole 
 of our aim in being here is to devise the 
 best plans for dealing with poverty and 
 wretchedness.' The Canon saw that there 
 was little to be gained by pursuing the 
 main line of inquiry, so he deftly turned 
 it aside. 
 
 'Of course we know and recognize that 
 knowledge must guide us in action ; and 
 perhaps ladies see some things more clearly 
 than we men do. But this is a novel step. 
 Mrs. Pry or is married, and, as the clergy- 
 man's wife, might be expected to see for 
 herself; but Miss Wharton is young — much 
 younger, and single too.' The old Canon 
 was an energetic man of the w^orld as well
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 237 
 
 as an ecclesiastic, and recognized social laws 
 and regulations. 
 
 ' Of course if much exists that is objec- 
 tionable, they cannot well avoid seeing it. 
 But, after all, is seeing it worse than hearing 
 of it, or reading about it ? The impression 
 made is more vivid certainly,' said John 
 Wharton. 'I do not think my sister will be 
 injured by what she sees.' 
 
 ' I see you, neither of you 1 see much 
 objection to it. And, after all, you must 
 be the judges on the matter. I only re- 
 flected what I hear said around me. Will 
 we have much business to transact to-day, 
 do you think ? ' The practical Canon felt 
 that the business was none of his particu- 
 larly. From the remarks both gentlemen 
 learned that district-visiting by ladies w^as 
 an innovation of which the local Mrs. 
 Grundy did not much approve ; and at 
 which she was disposed to shake her head. 
 
 At Orton Hall the subject w^as gravely 
 debated. Stephen Oldfield knew all that 
 went on amongst local social respecta-
 
 238 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 bilities ; while, of course, Miss Oldfield 
 heard what was said by the ladies of their 
 large visiting circle. As said before, it was 
 generally recognized that ' there was some- 
 thing' between Stephen Oldfield and Miss 
 Wharton ; and consequently several well- 
 intentioned ladies took the opportunity of 
 informing Miss Oldfield of what was said, 
 and thought about the action of one with 
 whom they were so closely linked. 
 
 ' Miss Wharton is very young, you ?ee, 
 for such a step. And uumarried too ! Not 
 even engaged ! It would be well for her 
 to observe conventional laws a little more, 
 I think ; * said one old lady, wise in the 
 wisdom of this world. 
 
 ' It is scarcely becoming ; though she 
 never goes alone, 1 hear, and only with 
 Mrs. Pryor. I think it well for ladies to 
 let these matters alone. It is well enough 
 to be charitable ; and to give orders to the 
 cook to supply sundry articles to those of 
 the poor of whom one has certain know- 
 ledge from the clergyman, or the doctor-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 239 
 
 But not to go any further.' Certainly ; she 
 was right if it was merely the duty of the 
 rich to give to the poor out of their super- 
 abundance. But if human sympathy, and 
 the great Christian principle of the strong 
 helping the weak, had to extend no further 
 than this, ' love ' and ' charity ' have very 
 restricted meanino^s : and the Levite who 
 crossed over to the other side could not 
 exactly be called a bad neighl)our, though 
 scarcely helpful. But the example of Christ, 
 and his association with publicans and 
 sinners, tell us that something more is 
 involved in the Christian brotherhood. 
 Else, why should the rich man have been 
 condemned, for Lazarus was ' fed with the 
 crumbs which fell from the rich man's 
 table ' ; and yet this was as much as the 
 lady was proposing should be done ; and 
 no more ! But perhaps the old lady did 
 not read her Bible very attentively. 
 
 * How does your brother like Miss 
 Wharton going about in this way, Maria ? ' 
 asked another old dame, whose feelinofs
 
 240 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 were none of the finest ; who had a strong 
 judgment, little guided by tact. This 
 placed Miss Oldfield most awkwardly. She 
 knew very well that ' the something ' was 
 nothing very definite, and that her brother 
 was not in a position to remonstrate ; though 
 very possibly the old lady imagined he 
 was. 
 
 ' He thinks it is very good of her to see 
 about the poor for herself. It shows great 
 self-denial, I am sure.' 
 
 ' It shows great " self-will," my dear, that 
 is my opinion ; and if she belonged to me, 
 or mine I would very soon let her know 
 what I thought about it. I wonder her 
 uncle does not put his foot down upon such 
 goings - on. They don't belong to the 
 Whartons, I am sure. I always thought 
 their mother, Mrs. Wharton that was, had 
 a great deal of self-satisfaction about her. 
 They take at her clearly. I hear John 
 Wharton is in favour of the Charter ; which 
 means the division of property, and mob 
 law, and the reduction of the rich to
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 241 
 
 poverty, by what I hear. It is scarcely 
 quite respectable, my dear.' 
 
 ' They both certainly are inclined to think 
 for themselves ; whatever other people think 
 about them : ' was Miss Oldtield's answer. 
 
 The remarks made to Mr. Old field were 
 conceived in the same spirit, if couched in 
 more guarded speech. He began to grow 
 very uncomfortable about the matter. One 
 day he said to his sister : 
 
 ' Maria, can you spare me a few minutes ? 
 I wish to consult you upon a matter of 
 grave importance.' 
 
 ' Certainly, Stephen ; I am at your service. 
 What is it you wish to talk about ? ' 
 
 * Well, Maria, my mind is much exercised 
 about Miss Wharton ; and what is said about 
 her. Don't you think it is a great pity ? ' 
 
 * Which do you mean ? — a pity she is 
 going on as she is doing ; or a pity that 
 such remarks are beintr made ? ' 
 
 o 
 
 'Well, both/ Mr. Oldfield was not 
 the person not to see a subject in all its 
 bearings ! 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' What should be done about it ? ' 
 
 ' How can we interfere in any way ? There 
 is no engagement betwixt you and her/ 
 
 ' No ; that is it ; if there w^ere I could 
 interfere. But as it is, we are only old 
 friends and well-wishers.' 
 
 ' Certainly, we are those. Have you 
 resolved to ask Miss Wharton for her 
 hand?' 
 
 ' Maria, you speak of it in such formal 
 terms.' It was rather surprising to hear 
 the little prim gentleman speaking so of 
 ' formal.' 
 
 ' How else am I to put it ? Are you 
 paying your addresses to her ? Will that 
 dor 
 
 ' Of course I am. I should like to make 
 Miss Wharton my w^fe. She will be 
 acceptable to you as such, Maria ? * 
 
 ' Most assuredly,' she replied ; kissing her 
 brother — a rather unusual stej) for them, 
 except the regular customary night and 
 morning salute, to assure him of her feeling. 
 
 ' Then I think I will speak to John
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 243 
 
 Wharton on the subject, before asking the 
 lady herself.' 
 
 ' That is the first step, without doubt. 
 And her uncle ; what shall you do about 
 him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I shall speak to him too. But I 
 have my own reasons for thinking he will 
 raise no objections to my suit. 1 am not so 
 sure about John Wharton.' 
 
 ' Why not about him, Stephen '{ 1 am 
 sure he is always most courteous.' 
 
 ' Yes, he is ; but at bottom he holds me 
 a true-blue Tory, and he has no liking 
 for me.' 
 
 ' Men may differ about their views on 
 politics, but that should not affect their 
 friendship. Squire Wharton is a Tory ; yet 
 he and his nephew are on excellent terms. 
 I do hope John Wharton will not stand in 
 the way. I would take an early opportunity 
 of speaking to him, how^ever.' 
 
 After this family council, and the formal 
 assurance that his sister approved of his 
 offering his hand to Miss Whartou, Mr. 
 
 E 2
 
 244 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 Oldfield set to work in earnest to bring his 
 relations with that lady into some tangible, 
 definite shape. He also arrived at the con- 
 clusion that he would call at Fowrass 
 Grange some day, when he would be likely 
 to find John Wharton alone. He had 
 calculated that it would be well to gain 
 his permission first ; after that to consult 
 the Squire ; and then so armed, and on the 
 vantage-ground of the sanction of her family, 
 to seek the consent of the lady herself. It 
 was a well-laid plan. It placed Edith 
 Wharton in the difficulty of seeming to 
 run counter to the wishes of her family, if 
 she declined his attentions. 
 
 It might not be a very gallant way of 
 approaching a lady ; not a chivalrous one 
 certainly ; but Stephen Oldfield was not of 
 a particularly chivalrous nature. It did, 
 however, contain more promise of success 
 than any other scheme he could devise. 
 And, after all, he thought in his innermost 
 heart, there is nothing so successful as 
 success.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 245 
 
 It was not long before he found the 
 opportunity of calling upon John Wharton, 
 and found him alone. This was no mere 
 fortuitous matter : he had carefully informed 
 himself of Miss Wharton's movements, and 
 had good reasons for believing she would 
 not be at Fowrass Grange at the time of his 
 visit. Shown in to Mr. Wharton, the usual 
 civilities and salutations were interchanged ; 
 after which the suitor opened out his errand. 
 
 " I am desirous of ascertaining your views 
 upon a very important matter, Wharton.' 
 
 ' I am all attention : proceed,' was the 
 reply, rather off-hand ; but then the little 
 man's formality was so habitual that his 
 remarks might have been the prelude to the 
 question of whether out-door relief or the 
 ' house ' was to be offered to some particular 
 applicant for parochial relief. The tone was 
 rather disconcerting, considering the inten- 
 tion of the speaker ; but he proceeded : 
 
 'You have doubtless observed that my 
 attentions to Miss Wharton have been some- 
 what marked. We have been old friends.
 
 246 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 But a warmer feeling has sprung up in me ; 
 which, without wishing to be chargeable 
 with vanity, I venture to think is reciprocal 
 betwixt your sister and myself.' John 
 Wharton began to listen very attentively 
 now. ' If I didn't feel an assurance that 
 such was the case, I should scarcely have 
 thought it proper to take the step I am now 
 taking. In such belief, then, I now ask you 
 formally if my suit for your sister's hand ' — 
 and heart, he would have added had he felt 
 that in John Wharton he had a warm ally 
 — ' will be acceptable to you ; or not. You 
 are her brother, and her natural guardian; I 
 must have the knowledge that my action 
 will be agreeable to you before I can address 
 her.' 
 
 John Wharton was not exactly taken by 
 surprise by this request ; yet he was hardly 
 prepared for it : thinking it still ia the 
 distance only, he had not given it the 
 attention he had intended to give to it. 
 Nevertheless, the whole circumstances were 
 well known to him : there was no sufficient
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 247 
 
 reason for declining to give a positive answer 
 until he could think the matter over, 
 Stephen Oldfield was not a man after his 
 own heart ; but he was in every way 
 eligible. 
 
 'I have no objection to oflfer; all must 
 depend upon her own decision. She usually 
 knows her own mind : and on a matter of 
 this, kind I think the lady herself must be 
 the sole judge ; if competent to judge for 
 herself.' 
 
 ' Which Miss Wharton certainly is. 
 Then I am to understand that you, — as her 
 natural guardian, — have no objection to 
 my seeking your sister's hand ? ' 
 
 ' Quite so. She shall not be influenced 
 by me in the matter at all. I will drop no 
 hint even that you have consulted me on 
 the subject.' 
 
 This was an attitude so definitely neutral, 
 so entirely negative, that even a personage 
 so habitually self-satisfied as Mr. Oldfield, 
 did not get much encouragement therefrom. 
 Still it was consent : there was no mistake
 
 248 OAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 about that. He had got his foot down on 
 the first rung of the ladder which reached 
 up to Miss Wharton's hand. 
 
 ' I thank you. I think I would prefer 
 you to say nothing.' 
 
 Now this was not untrue ; because he 
 felt that if John Wharton did speak to his 
 sister on the subject, it would not be warm 
 advocacy of his suit. But at the same time, 
 it was not exactly correct ; for he would 
 have liked that Miss Wharton should know 
 that he had obtained her brother's con- 
 sent, when the momentous time of proposal 
 came. But, failing advocacy, a neutral 
 attitude was certainly the best thing for 
 him. 
 
 ' I should be prepared with suitable set- 
 tlements ; I should like you to understand 
 that.' 
 
 ' I quite believe so ; but are these not 
 matters of detail which it is rather prema- 
 ture to discuss at this stage ? ' 
 
 This was rather cruel ; rather like a sharp 
 frost on a tender shoot : but still it was fair
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 249 
 
 and proper ; though young love did wince 
 under it. 
 
 •' Certainly. I merely wished to intimate 
 to you that I quite appreciate the value of 
 Miss Wharton ; and would do what a gentle- 
 man should do to testify his appreciation. 
 A practical evidence of his feelings ; you 
 understand/ 
 
 ' Quite so ; your habitual thoughtfulness 
 is well-known, Oldfield. Had you not 
 better see Uncle Edward before taking any 
 positive step '? I think he would like it.' 
 
 * Most assuredly. I should not think of 
 taking a step involving those belonging to 
 him, without first consulting him. I shall 
 wait upon him shortly.' 
 
 After he had taken his departure, John 
 Wharton mused : ' He is anxious to be my 
 brother-in-law. Not on my account, I fancy. 
 However has Edie evoked the fire of love in 
 the breast of that piece of formality ! It is 
 testimony to the powder of her charms, which 
 cannot be gainsaid. I wonder how she will 
 take it. I should not give much for his
 
 250 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 chances ; at least the first time of askinor. 
 Once, twice, will not deter him. He is one of 
 the most determined of mortals. I hope he 
 won't pester the girl. I should not like the 
 thought of thafc. Uncle Edward will receive 
 him cordially. Well ; if he does not, the 
 little man can hardly think the Wharton 
 connection very anxious about the alliance. 
 I am afraid I was not very enthusiastic. I 
 must drop no hint to Edie. I wonder if she 
 will be taken by surprise. I hardly think so. 
 Women are said to have a very keen scent 
 for any love-making. And certainly the 
 little man has tried to throw some tender- 
 ness into his manner of late ; now I begin to 
 think about the matter seriously. I wonder 
 if he will make her happy. He is a steady- 
 going fellow ; nothing fast about him. If 
 anything, rather staid ; but she will not 
 object to that. But he is a true-blue Tory : 
 that is rather against him. I suppose they 
 will learn to compromise, as all married people 
 do, I am told.' Here John Wharton re- 
 vealed the fact that he still walked about in
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 251 
 
 the nightly darkness of bachelor ignorance ; 
 nor did the soliloquy indicate the dawn of 
 any coming matrimony. His wonders were 
 natural under the circumstances; and he 
 felt a most genuine, unaffected interest in 
 the question of his sister's future. ' He has 
 got my consent : even if not very cordially 
 given. And Uncle Edward's is certain. He 
 will make the most of these facts, if he 
 experiences any difficulty. I wonder if she 
 will be quick enough to see the stealthy 
 approach ? Women's wits are keen. I hope 
 she will not allow him to make too much 
 of our consent. After all, I should not be 
 grieved if she said him, No. And yet the 
 match is a proper one in every respect.' 
 
 So much for John Wharton. 
 
 When Stephen Oldfield called upon Squire 
 Wharton he found him in his sitting-room 
 with its dark oak panelling, smoking a cigar, 
 and listening to some remarks from Mrs. 
 Allonby. He at once observed the Squire 
 was in an excellent good humour. So far, 
 so good, he thought. Mrs. Allonby seemed
 
 252 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 to tctke in the errand intuitively ; and after 
 answering his rather marked inquiries after 
 her health, found that there was something 
 requiring her immediate attention in the 
 domestic quarter of Gaythorne Hall. After 
 the usual civilities had been interchanged, 
 Mr. Oldfield proceeded : 
 
 ' I have come to see you in a new cha- 
 racter, Mr. Wharton. I am come as a suitor 
 for your niece's hand. I dare say you have 
 long observed that my attentions to her 
 were rather more marked than are those of 
 mere neighbourly friendliness. I have asked 
 her brother's consent, and now I am come 
 to ask yours.' 
 
 ' And what did Jack say ? ' asked the 
 Squire eagerly. 
 
 ' He has given me his consent' 
 
 ' Has he, by Jove ! I was not so sure 
 about him. You have mine, my boy. I 
 have long looked on the match as likely 
 to come off; though, of course, I could 
 neither make ; nor meddle. I wish you all 
 success.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 253 
 
 ' It is very good of you to say so, I am 
 sure, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Oldlield never forgot what was re- 
 spectful to his elders ; and the Squire's 
 warmth was a contrast to his nephew's 
 chilly coldness. He began to think that 
 Miss Wharton was his. He had a staunch 
 ally in her uncle, that was clear. 
 
 ' I am deuced glad things have come to 
 this point, Oldfield. You see Jack holds 
 strong views ; even to the advocacy of the 
 Charter. Of course I do not approve of 
 them ; and so I let him know. But that 
 does not affect him much. And of course 
 Edith takes her opinions from him ; and is 
 a high-spirited, strong-willed girl — though 
 for all that an excellent girl ; as I know well. 
 And I have always had a fear that she 
 might be thrown in the way of some of his 
 reforming acquaintances, and become en- 
 tangled with some one of whom I cannot 
 approve. It will put my mind at rest to 
 know that all is settled ; and that she is in 
 the hands of some one I can trust.'
 
 254 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' I trust I shall prove worthy of your 
 good opinion of me. I can assure you, Miss 
 Wharton's many good qualities are not lost 
 upon me. As to her high spirit, I think I 
 like her the better for it.' 
 
 ' Possibly so ; though if it prompts her to 
 say " no " the first time you ask her, it may 
 not seem so admirable. But you are not 
 the man who would be deterred from asking 
 a lady a second time ; if she happened not 
 exactly to know her mind at the first 
 asking.' Mr. Oldfield winced here ; he was 
 by no means deficient in perseverance, in- 
 deed possessed a great deal of that quality ; 
 but this particular exercise of it involved his 
 vanity. He was not the man to take * No ' 
 from a lady with a good grace. His mind 
 was rapidly surveying the position, when 
 the Squire went on, ' Faint heart never won 
 fair lady,' I fear. And I don't think my 
 niece will be any exception to the rule. If 
 she did not say yes at first, I think, when 
 she came to think it over, she would change 
 her mind. She has got plenty of good
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 255 
 
 sense as well as a high spirit, has Edie. 
 And common sense and high-spiritedness 
 are not always seen together in girls ; at 
 least in my experience/ 
 
 This turn of the conversation favoured the 
 suitor, — to use the language of greyhound 
 coursing ; and gave him an opportunity for 
 a complimentary remark. 
 
 ' Miss Wharton's good sense has always 
 impressed me. She has many attractions.' 
 
 ' Quite right ; and if all goes well she 
 will have those canal shares altogether. If 
 you make a match of it, I will give them 
 up. I know they are safe with you.' Could 
 any uncle be more gracious to the suitor 
 who seeks the hand of his niece ? Mr. Old- 
 held showed his gratefulness with dignity ; 
 and all was pleasant and agreeable. 
 
 The Squire quickly after this, assuming 
 the topic to have been exhausted, turned to 
 other matters. 
 
 ' 1 tell you what it is, Oldfield, we landed 
 proprietors must stick well together, and 
 keep a good front to the enemy. There
 
 256 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 must be no division in our ranks, and no 
 faint-heartedness. We seem likely to see 
 some troublous times. The bad harvest 
 has sent up the price of wheat, and bread 
 is dear. If it were not for the Corn Laws, 
 I do not see how the farmers could pay their 
 rent. And the league forming against the 
 Corn Laws will try to make a stir. Confound 
 those manufacturing fellows, they only want 
 to get cheap bread in order to pull down wages. 
 Cutting thongs out of other people's hides. 
 It is clear enough what they are after.' 
 
 ' I think there can be no question about 
 that, Mr. Wharton.' 
 
 ' I should think not. They will agitate 
 and upset people's minds, now when the bad 
 harvests are telling. And that abomination 
 " the Charter " is laying hold of all those 
 who do not possess the franchise We land- 
 owners will have to stand by each other in 
 the coming trials. Fortunately the Duke is 
 well. I have no faith in Lord Melbourne, 
 if a revolutionary epoch set in. But the 
 Duke is to be relied on.'
 
 GAYTHOKNE HALL. 257 
 
 'The Duke possesses the entire confid- 
 ence of the country ; and he has all 
 an old soldier's dislike of lawlessness and 
 turbulence.' 
 
 ' That he has ; and a soldier likes order 
 and discipline. If we should have any 
 rioting, such as there was in the winter of 
 1831-32, when excitement and dear bread 
 were present together, it will be well to 
 have a man of decision at the head of affairs. 
 It wiU set an example to the country.' 
 
 ' We are not far from Sheffield, which has 
 always been a town prone to excitement 
 and disaster, and at times to violence.' 
 
 ' That old rhyming steel-merchant, Ebe- 
 nezer Elliott, does them a lot of harm, with 
 his rhymes and his songs. I wish we could 
 get him into gaol, like Lovett, out of the 
 way of further mischief. What has he to 
 do with the nation, setting class against 
 class, and putting words into the mouths of 
 the dissatisfied, that they would never find 
 for themselves ? Such men do far more 
 mischief than the torchlight processions, 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 which without their songs would do very 
 little harm. But they listen to wild har- 
 angues, and then they sing their songs, till 
 their evils seem twice as big as they really 
 are ; and they fan themselves to fury.' 
 
 ' That is quite true, sir.' 
 
 * I wish we had a few more of their 
 leaders laid by the heels out of the way. 
 We must keep them in check at the sessions. 
 I know I can count on your loyal coopera- 
 tion. We sit on the bench together. I 
 hope soon to see us in closer relationship. 
 But be careful ; young fillies are apt to be 
 skittish. If girls don't know their minds, 
 they are sure to be awkward. But you can 
 always ask them again. Good-bye.'
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CHARTER. 
 
 What was this Charter which seemed to 
 be so disturbing at this time ? 
 
 It was an organized attempt at parlia- 
 mentary reform ; an attempt to give the 
 people a greater voice in the law-making 
 of the country. From the time of the 
 Plantagenet Kings it had become customary 
 for the King to summon advisers from 
 various parts of his dominions : indeed the 
 Parliaments which Edward I. ' gathered at 
 the close of his reign are absolutely 
 identical with those which still sit at 
 St. Stephen's (' History of the English 
 People,' J. R. Green). And so matters had 
 remained. The King's writs called members 
 from places which, once populous and of 
 
 S 2
 
 260 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 repute, had in many instances died down, 
 till Old Sarum had no longer an inhabit- 
 ant or a house left, any more than Perse- 
 polis ; yet it still was represented in 
 Parliament. Ludgershall in Wiltshire had 
 one owner and one member ; the owner 
 elected himself. Another place had seven 
 electors ; and so on, and so on, till more 
 than half the House of Commons consisted 
 of the nominees of lords and squires. 
 These effete constituencies had become 
 known as ' rotten boroughs.' In one of 
 the struggles against the iniquitous minis- 
 tries of the early years of George III., 
 Lord Chatham advocated a scheme of 
 parliamentary reform. On January 22nd, 
 1 770, he said in the House of Lords, ' The 
 boroughs of this country have properly 
 enough been called the " rotten parts " of 
 the Constitution ' ; and the Saxon adjective 
 remained linked to the boroughs till 1832. 
 Why did it take more than half a century 
 to do away with such obvious abuse ? A 
 retrospect may tell us !
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 261 
 
 Chatham's scheme was to infuse new blood 
 into Parliament by adding one more to the 
 members of each county. In 1780 the 
 electors of Westminster appointed a Com- 
 mittee to consider the matter of the election 
 of members of Parliament. Charles James 
 Fox, the great AVhig leader, was one of 
 the chairmen of this committee. They 
 recommended the following programme : 
 
 1. Annual Parliaments. 
 
 2. Universal Suffrage. 
 
 3. Equal Voting Districts. 
 
 4. No Property Qualification. 
 
 5. Voting by Ballot. 
 
 6. Payment op Members. 
 
 In the same year the Duke of Rich- 
 mond introduced a Bill into the House of 
 Lords in favour of Annual Parliaments, 
 and giving a vote to every man not con- 
 taminated by crime, nor incapacitated by 
 want of reason. Three years later Colonel 
 Sharman wrote his famous letter in which 
 he declared, ^ The subject of parliamentary 
 reform is that which, above all others, most 
 deserves the attention of the public,' and
 
 262 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 advocated the before-named changes. But 
 the French Eevolution arrested all reform. 
 Many Englishmen espoused the cause of 
 the French Eevolutionists ; the alarm spread. 
 Patriotism bore down reform, and nothing 
 was done. But reform was not killed 
 outright. In 1792, the 'Society of the 
 Friends of the People ' was established by 
 Charles Grrey, Esq. ; who forty years after- 
 wards was the Earl Grey of the Reformed 
 Parliament. 
 
 In 1795 the Society published a declara- 
 tion that there should be ' no condition of 
 life in which the right of voting might not 
 be acquired by labour, by industry, by 
 talents.' But the deadly struggle with 
 Napoleon kept England too engaged for 
 any question of internal reform. So low 
 indeed had reform sunk that in 1816 Lord 
 (then Mr.) Brougham said it was ' opposed 
 by some, deserted by others, and espoused 
 by persons whose conduct excited no small 
 degree of disgust out of doors.' But a 
 little later on the people took it up,
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 263 
 
 especially in the North ; and the writings 
 of William Cobbett were largely read in 
 South Lancashire and the North Midlands. 
 ' Cobbett's Weekly Political Register ' was 
 a single sheet of octavo, and cost twelve- 
 pence-halfpenny, which placed it out of the 
 reach of the poor. At the end of 1815 
 he brought out * The Twopenny Register,' 
 and swiftly every cottager knew his name. 
 ' Hampden ' Clubs sprang up everywhere, 
 while the Sunday schools were means of 
 teaching men to read, and so becoming 
 readers and speakers. Poetry became com- 
 mon, which, if rude, still appealed to the 
 heart. The programme of that time was 
 as follows : ' All males over eighteen years 
 of age who paid taxes were to have a vote ; 
 Annual Parliaments ; every 20,000 of the 
 people to have a member : no placeman 
 or pensioner to sit in Parliament.' All 
 who have read that very interesting little 
 book, ' Passages from the Life of a Radical,' 
 by Samuel Bamford, know how the people 
 were taken up with the question of reform.
 
 264 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 A large meeting in Manchester, on August 
 16th, 1819, was suddenly attacked by 
 the Yeomanry, and some scores were 
 wounded and a number killed. Bamford 
 suffered imprisonment in Lincoln gaol for 
 his part in the affair, as the virtual leader 
 of the Middleton men; while the grand jury 
 threw out the bill against the men who 
 caused ' the Peterloo massacre ' ; while the 
 Prince Eegent thanked them for their 
 promptitude. The Six Acts were passed, 
 and the consequence of all this was — ' It 
 filled the working class with a fierce 
 contempt and hatred of every one wear- 
 in 2f a decent coat' Class hatred became 
 rife, and the interests of the people and 
 their rulers clashed till the clang went 
 throuofbout the land. The Prince Eegent 
 had a disgraceful contention with his 
 wife ; and the latter found her supporters 
 amidst the ranks of the reformers, and 
 her famous advocates in Denman and 
 Brougham, — the latter the very cynosure 
 (jf the Reform party. Yet when the
 
 GAYTHOENE HALL. 265 
 
 Eeform Bill did ultimately pass what was 
 the result ? As regards the counties, the 
 franchise was restricted to the old forty- 
 shilling freeholder of the days of the 
 Edwards and the Henrys, and the fifty- 
 pound a year tenant. The result was not 
 very satisfactory : it may be put in the 
 words of the clerk in the village in which 
 the writer was reared. He often used to 
 point to the absurdity of the franchise so : 
 " Look round the villag^e : there is the 
 curate, the doctor, and the schoolmaster, 
 next to the vicar the best educated men in 
 the village, and not one of them a vote ; 
 while the parish clerk, because he has an 
 old tumble -down cottage and garden of his 
 own, has a vote.' 
 
 This state of affairs was obviously 
 absurd, and reformers still agitated for 
 reform. They had learned a lesson which 
 they were not likely to forget. In the 
 Catholic Emancipation, in the Eeform Bill 
 itself, they had seen that their rulers 
 had yielded not to the justice of a demand.
 
 266 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 but to the vigour with which the demand 
 was made. If there was agitation enough, 
 and force enough to render resistance to 
 the law possible, — and the threat of the 
 latter was made, — they yielded. A threat of 
 resort to violence alone could secure justice. 
 That was conceded to clamour wbich was 
 never allowed to mere right. 
 
 In the opening of the first Parliament 
 of the Queen, an amendment to the Address 
 to the Crown was made by a radical member, 
 to the effect that the Ballot and shorter 
 Parliaments were desirable. It received a 
 very limited support. Lord John Russell, 
 the then Home Secretary, announced that 
 it was not the intention of the Government 
 to deal any further with reform ; a speech 
 which procured for him the nickname of 
 * Finality John.' He said to do so was to 
 commit a breach of faith with those who 
 allowed the Bill to be carried on the under- 
 standing that the reform question should 
 rest where it was put in 1832. The great 
 mass of reformers regarded this as a
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 267 
 
 distinct breach of faith with them. A 
 number of the radical members, including 
 Mr. Eoebuck and the famous Irish lepealer, 
 Dan O'Connell, met the London Working 
 Men's x\ssociation, and ' the Charter/ a name 
 given to the projected Reform Bill by 
 the latter, was drawn up by Wm. Lovett ; 
 who was to have had the cooperation of 
 Mr. Roebuck, but the latter was too much 
 engaged. The six points of the Charter 
 were the old recommendations of the West- 
 minster Committee, under Charles James 
 Fox, in 1780; except — Manhood Suffrage 
 came before Annual Parliaments. The 
 Charter's six points were : 
 
 1. Manhood Suffrage. 
 
 2. Annual Parliaments. 
 
 3. Vote by Ballot. 
 
 4. Abolition of Property Qualification. 
 
 5. Payment of Members. 
 
 6. Equal Electoral Districts. 
 
 The " property qualification " consisted of 
 landed property to the extent of £500 per 
 annum ; the consequence of which was that 
 every member of Parliament was, by this
 
 268 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 fact, more or less linked with the cause 
 of the land and the landowners. Annual 
 Parliaments, it was contended, would do 
 away with all the bribery and corruption 
 involved in Septennial Parliaments ; as it 
 would be impossible for any one to go to 
 such expense yearly. 
 
 It was a very reasonable proposition 
 itself, and already some of the points have 
 been gained, as, for instance, the aboli- 
 tion of the property qualification, and the 
 ballot ; while every new reform has lowered 
 the franchise ; and the redistribution of 
 seats is proceeding in the direction taken 
 in the Charter of equal electoral districts. 
 The payment of members and annual 
 elections will come ; as the principle is 
 recognized that to be a member of Parlia- 
 ment is not an honour, and, too often, a 
 sinecure for some local magnate, but a 
 serious occupation dealing with the vessel 
 of the State — with national interests. But 
 if the Charter in itself was a very innocent 
 affair, the movement was fraught with
 
 GAYTHOF.NE HALL. 269 
 
 dangerous elements. At once class hatreds, 
 class interests, and all the dissatisfied 
 elements in the country took sides. From 
 a mere political movement amongst those 
 who were sincerely interested in the subject 
 of parliamentary reform, it soon became a 
 rolling stream, involving every opponent 
 of the existing Government — honest or dis- 
 honest. The decision of ' Finality John ' 
 awoke a national hurricane, some of the 
 effects of which will be seen in these pages. 
 There were soon two great divisions of the 
 Chartists — the ' moral force ' men, who 
 trusted to ' Truth and Reason ; ' and the 
 'physical force' men, who were prepared to 
 resort to violence. And hunger soon brought 
 violence. The winter of 1837-38 was a 
 severe one, and corn kept steadily rising. 
 Trade was bad, and wages low. A cry arose 
 from the hungry, who joined the Chartists 
 for the simple reason that they were 'against 
 the Government.' What says a Chartist 
 pamphlet of this time ? ' The first edition 
 of the Charter was published in 1838. It
 
 270 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 may be well to state that such was the 
 respect entertained by great numbers of the 
 middle classes in favour of the exertions 
 of the Working Men's Associations in the 
 great work of political and social reform at 
 that period, that the first meeting called 
 in London in support of the Peoples' 
 Charter, was called by requisition of the 
 electors of AVestminster, and hoi den in 
 Palace Yard, the High Bailiiff presiding. 
 We regret, however, to state that all these 
 growing promises of good, tending to the 
 union of the two classes in favour of reform, 
 were frustrated by the blustering and fight- 
 ing projects of the physical force party, 
 who had hitherto been engaged in the 
 Anti-Poor Law agitation.' That is, the 
 reformers were joined by the insubordinate 
 elements of society, and, most unfortunately, 
 by the mass of ignorance, idleness, and 
 rowdyism, which had hitherto fought against 
 the new Poor Law. And the rise in the 
 price of bread from bad harvests, simul- 
 taneously with a fall in wages from bad
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 271 
 
 trade, brouglit want to bear on this seething 
 mass of misery and insubordination ; and 
 threats of violence were freely used at their 
 meetings. Of course some of the wilder 
 and less discreet reformers fanned the pas- 
 sions of the rabble, with the design to 
 frighten the Government into yielding to 
 their demands. Torch-light meetings w^ere 
 held, to which many went armed ; pikes 
 were made by the hundred by village 
 blacksmiths; and in some districts, especially 
 over the manufacturing area of the North, 
 firearms were freely purchased. Violence, 
 too, did here and there take the form of 
 riot ; as in Newport, near the Welsh coal 
 region ; in Birmingham, and elsewhere ; 
 while a diabolical plot to burn down 
 Shefiield was set on foot in the winter 
 of 1839-40, of which somewhat more will 
 be seen further on. Wild terror seized 
 upon a large portion of the community, 
 which added to the general national anxiety. 
 The Government trusted to its soldiers ; the 
 physical force party furbished up their
 
 272 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 f pikes and cleaDed their guns. ; It is very 
 difficult for us, living in peace and security, 
 to conceive the condition of society at that 
 time. There was reform in the air ; and 
 many believed that the passing of the 
 Charter would be followed by the repeal 
 of the Corn Laws, and all the other laws 
 which pressed unfairly or hardly upon the 
 masses. But, as usual, it was hunger which 
 bred violence. From the passing of the 
 Eeform Bill till the time of want there 
 was no rioting and bloodshed. The return 
 of want brought violence in its train. 
 After the series of bad harvests passed 
 away, the Chartists held meetings and 
 conventions ; but there was none of the 
 wild schemes then which marked the 
 times of famine. It was wdien they were 
 ' clemming ' the work-people of the North 
 
 / became w^olfish. 
 
 What sayeth our great contemporary 
 historian of those terrible times ? ' Wide 
 and almost universal discontent among 
 the working-classes in town and country,
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 273 
 
 still helped to swell the Chartist ranks. 
 The weavers and stockingers in some of 
 the manufacturing towns were miserably poor. 
 Wages were low everywhere. In the agri- 
 cultural districts the complaints against the 
 operation of the new Poor Law were 
 vehement and passionate ; and although 
 they were unjust in principle, and sustained 
 by monstrous exaggerations of statement, 
 they were none the less potent as recruiting 
 agents for Chartism. There was also a 
 profound distrust of the middle class and 
 their leaders. It is clear that at that time ? 
 the Chartists, who represented the bulk of 
 the artisan class in most of the large towns, 
 did to their very hearts believe that England 
 was ruled for the benefit of aristocrats and 
 millionnaires, who were absolutely indifferent 
 to the sufferings of the poor. It is equally 
 clear that most of what were called the 
 ruling class did really believe the English 
 working men who joined the Chartist move- 
 ment to be a race of fierce, unmanageable, and 
 selfish communists, who, if they were allowed 
 
 VOL. T. T
 
 274 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 their own way for a moment, would prove 
 themselves determined to overthrow throne, 
 altar, and all established securities of society. 
 An ignorant panic prevailed on both sides.' 
 Yes : and a very real panic existed in the 
 breasts of the timid, and certainly among 
 the female element, in the middle and upper 
 classes. 
 
 Of course it cannot be denied that a 
 number among the Chartists were wild 
 demagogues fond of hearing their own 
 voices ; not very particular about what 
 they said, provided they carried their 
 hearers with them ; and far from averse 
 from a row% A more limited number 
 talked open sedition and handled their 
 weapons in private. 
 
 The Government were embarrassed, and 
 Lord Melbourne w^as not the man adapted 
 to disturbed times. Though the Duke of 
 Wellington was opposed to the Government, 
 the country placed its confidence in him to 
 maintain order if the riotous feeling broke 
 out into open civil war. The Tories taunted
 
 OAYTHORNE HALL. 275 
 
 the Whigs with having begot Chartism by 
 the agitation for reform. Macaulay put 
 their argument so — ' The country is not in 
 a satisfactory state. There is much reck- 
 lessness, much turbulence, much craving for 
 political change ; and the cause of these evils 
 is the policy of the Whigs. They rose to 
 power by agitation in 1830; they retained 
 power by means of agitation through the 
 tempestuous months which followed ; they 
 carried the Reform Bill by means of agita- 
 tion ; expelled from office, they forced them- 
 selves in again by means of agitation, and 
 now we are paying the penalty of their 
 misconduct. Chartism is the natural off- 
 spring of Whigism. From those who caused 
 the evil we cannot expect the remedy. The 
 first thing to be done is to dismiss 
 them, and to call to power men who, not 
 having instigated the people to commit 
 excesses, can, without incurring the charge 
 of inconsistency, enforce the laws.' Such 
 indeed forms a complete confession of 
 faith in the matter for men like Squire 
 
 T 2
 
 276 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Wharton, wlio were quite honest in their 
 belief. 
 
 The determination of the Whio^ Govern- 
 ment, as expressed by ' FinaHty John/ led 
 to a counter-manifestation by the reforming 
 party which plunged the country into dis- 
 order, aggravated by the general distress 
 from scarcity of food. A man who remem- 
 bers this time well told this story to the 
 writer : — ' I was living in Bucks then ; we 
 had a pretty big garden, and a pig, with a 
 side of bacon always hanging up. The loaf 
 was fourteen pence, and we could not afford 
 bread, it was too dear ; so we put a piece 
 of fat bacon in the pot, and a cabbage, and 
 then a lot of potatoes, and boiled them all 
 together. And so we did without bread.' 
 But how about those who did not have the 
 pig, and a big garden ? There was a sub- 
 stratum of hunger on which the agitator 
 could work, and did work with success. An 
 empty stomach inclines a man to listen to 
 an argument which promises to fill it, 
 which would never touch him when his
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 277 
 
 stomach was fairly full. Wild harangues 
 coasequently were readily and greedily 
 hearkened to. Machinery was fast coming 
 into use, while the population was equally 
 rapidly increasing. There was a large un- 
 employed body of youths, rash, foolish, 
 ready to follow any unwise counsel. Nor 
 did the unwise counsel always proceed from 
 honest reformers. Their opponents had 
 hired traitors in their ranks, urging violence, 
 advocating the appeal to force, keeping up 
 the general state of terror. There were paid 
 agitators going about telling the people that 
 the new Poor Law was a system of legalized 
 murder, and that children were being slowly 
 tortured to death by the mill-owners. 
 Charges and counter-charges, hired agitators 
 and mad physical force Chartists, all were 
 at work on a people almost frenzied. The 
 manufacturing class pointed to the Corn 
 Laws as the main cause of the troubles of 
 the times ; while the landed interest was 
 equally confident that the mill-owmers only 
 wished the repeal of the Corn Laws to pull
 
 278 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 down wages. Looking round everywhere, 
 the true reformer saw in improved laws the 
 only cure for the unhealthy social condition. 
 With the Charter all would be put right. 
 The masses groaned under the tyranny of 
 the upper ten thousand, and speech was 
 found for them in words like these : — 
 
 ' Here too, Queen, thy woe-worn people feel 
 The load they bear is more than they can bear ! 
 Beneath it twenty million workers reel ! 
 While fifty thousand idlers rob and glare, 
 And mock the sufferings which they yet may share.' 
 
 Their misery may have made them un- 
 just ; but the masses were penetrated through 
 and through with the belief that Govern- 
 ment was all against the many, and in 
 favour of the few. 
 
 But it would be unfair to represent the 
 Chartists as everywhere tending to violence. 
 In certain towns, Birmingham, and some in 
 the north, undoubtedly rioting went on, 
 and property was destroyed ; or the house 
 of an obnoxious magistrate was sacked, or 
 burned down ; or midnight meetings were
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 279 
 
 held by torchlight, to which many went 
 armed, probably with no more serious intent 
 than a boyish delight in the possession of a 
 weapon. Much depended, doubtless, on 
 local leaders and the prominent members of 
 the Eadical associations which were scattered 
 all over the land, and which took up the 
 Charter in all its entirety and in all earnest- 
 ness. At most of the places the reformers 
 confined themselves to peaceful means of 
 attaining their ends — at most shouting 
 and marching in procession, singing hymns 
 and rhymes of their own. Indeed the 
 Chartists possessed a literature of their 
 own in this respect. Thomas Cooper tells 
 us how the weavers and stockingers of 
 Leicester behaved. He secured a room, 
 the Shakesperian room, and organized a 
 Sunday-school for men and boys who were 
 at work all the week. Those who knew a 
 little willingly taught those who knew less, 
 and the room was filled morning and even- 
 ing. Their classes bore fancy names, as 
 the ' Algernon Sidney ' class, the ' John
 
 280 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 Hampden ' class, and the ' William Tell ' 
 class. Many became teetotallers, and 
 pledged themselves to abstain from all 
 drink till the ' People's Charter ' became 
 the law of the land. Then they got on 
 to holding their meetings on one or two 
 week-days in the evening, after work-hours. 
 Some of them with a poetical turn com- 
 posed songs, while Cooper gave lectures on 
 interesting and instructive topics. They 
 had two newspapers of their own. When 
 work grew slack, in the summer evenings 
 he would lead the poverty-stricken stocking- 
 ers out into the roads outside the town, and 
 into the neighbouring villages, singing and 
 marching along — quite peaceably. From 
 natural pulpits of rock sermons were 
 delivered to the assembled crowds, just 
 as in outdooor camp-meetings, such as 
 Wesley called together. On having nothing 
 to do, the poor stockingers would gather 
 round his house in an evening, and he 
 would make them a speech, or form them 
 into a procession, and start them off, sing-
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 281 
 
 ing, ' The Lion of Freedom lias come from 
 his den/ or 
 
 * Spread, spread the Charter — 
 Spread the Charter through the land ! 
 Let Britons bold and brave join hand in hand.' 
 
 He says, ' Our singing through the streets 
 in the fine evenings, often accompanied 
 with shouts for the Charter, had no harm 
 in it, though many of the shop-keepers 
 would shut up their shops in real or affected 
 terror. This only caused our men to laugh, 
 since they all knew there was no thought 
 of injuring anybody.' And more or less 
 the same was the case over the whole area, 
 from the valley of the Trent away to and 
 across the Scotch border to the Tay. Over 
 the whole manufacturing area all was fer- 
 ment ; the one subject of conversation was 
 the Charter or the Corn Law repeal. 
 
 ' It was not simply a few^ poor ragged 
 Chartists at Leicester who were expecting 
 a change. It was expected in all the indus- 
 trial regions. Agitation under the influence 
 of the powerful League w^as rife all over
 
 282 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 the midland and the northern counties. 
 Manufacturers declared things could not go 
 on much longer as they were. They began 
 to threaten they would close their mills ; 
 or, as the Tories interpreted these threats, 
 to try to precipitate a revolution.' Hopes 
 ran high then which were never realized. 
 Leaders were not, however, all good, clear- 
 headed men like Cooper. The great leader, 
 Feargus O'Connor, the editor of the great 
 Chartist newspaper, ' The Northern Star,' 
 was a hot-headed, fiery Irishman, fond of a 
 row of any kind ; and as ready to go in for 
 a battle of fists as for a war of words. 
 Chartist conventions were held, and some 
 very foolish propositions were made. But 
 it was amidst the young, excitable town 
 populations, the sons of immature parents, 
 that riots obtained. Over the face of the 
 country the advocates of the people's Char- 
 ter were intelligent artisans, like Jim 
 Woodcock, serious, earnest men, who firmly 
 believed that in parliamentary reform was to 
 be found the remedy, the panacea for all
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 283 
 
 hardships and all wrongs. Unfortunately, 
 however, the riots, the excesses of these 
 town populations filled people's minds with 
 terror. There was the ^ ignorant panic,' and 
 all people who loved order, and especially 
 all timid persons who lived in dread of 
 lawlessness, exaggerated the deeds and in- 
 tentions of a body of men who were, as a 
 rule, honest, hard-handed artisans, who were 
 engaged in seeking their rights. Such men 
 as these were rather the backbone of the 
 working-classes than the scum of society — 
 men too who were in advance of their time, 
 many of whom have survived to see one bit 
 after another of their end attained. The 
 constant tendency of legislation has gone in 
 the direction of the Charter, only piecemeal 
 and not en masse. We look back with 
 surprise blended with horror at times so 
 near to us, — yet so far away. 
 
 At this time, however, it was ter- 
 ribly earnest, when the hard times of 
 famine in a bread- taxed epoch were 
 added to political excitement ; then came
 
 284 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 a period of great social disturbance and 
 
 suffering. 
 
 ' And still they pass, and shade on shade 
 Deepens their woe-marked path along; 
 But Thou, God, art strong t3 aid : 
 Ay, and in Thee the weak are strong.' 
 
 Free thought might be rampant among 
 the Chartists in some areas ; but their poetry 
 in many cases indicated a sound, healthy, 
 living faith in Providence. A strange weird 
 time in our history is the epoch of the 
 Chartist agitation. 
 
 This chapter may to many readers seem 
 dry and outside the story. But without a 
 sufficient comprehension of the precise facts 
 the reader will scarcely follow the plot, or 
 conceive its realism. Acquaintance with 
 what was then going on will enable the 
 more careful reader to grasp the whole more 
 completely. It will be a bad day for 
 fiction when careful readers no longer open 
 the pages of a novel ; though no doubt 
 much of modern fiction is unknown to the 
 better class of readers.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 YES OR NO ? 
 
 Stephen Oldfield pondered carefully 
 over what the Squire had said to him, and 
 especially his last remark about girls being 
 skittish when they did not know their own 
 minds. He was sincerely anxious to secure 
 Miss Wharton's acceptance of him for 
 various reasons. No one could know the 
 girl without perceiving her sterling worth. 
 She possessed, too, much self-respect — so 
 much that she would never forget herself. 
 There was no fear of her ever committing 
 herself ; her mother's lessons had sunk too 
 deeply into a mind naturally fitted to receive 
 them, and retain them. This weighed 
 potently with so prudent and circumspect 
 a personage as Stephen Oldfield, a county
 
 286 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 magistrate, who was very likely one day 
 to be pricked for sheriff, to whom the idea 
 of conjugal folly was especially distasteful. 
 Cupid in this case sat on a firm stool of com- 
 mon sense ; and in his love-making even 
 the prudent man allows his judgment to 
 weigh with him. Beyond all this he had a 
 genuine admiration for the beautiful blonde, 
 the high-spirited girl. Indeed, he liked her 
 all the better for the district-visiting, as an 
 evidence of individuality ; though he was 
 anxious to put a stop to it, in what he 
 veritably believed to be the interests of the 
 girl herself. 
 
 But, on the other hand, he could not 
 bear the idea of rejection. His vanity 
 dreaded any such mortification, and his 
 self-pride recoiled from the possibility of 
 such a humiliation. Then hope came in 
 with the flattering suggestion that Miss 
 Wharton was no flirt ; she had now for 
 some time past permitted of attentions too 
 marked to allow of any mistake about them. 
 Ho23e and fear, love and prudence, chased
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 287 
 
 eacli other over his mental processes — one 
 day one being in the ascendant, another 
 day another. The oscillations were almost 
 rhythmic. A day of hope was almost always 
 followed by one of doubt. In this he shared 
 the lot of all lovers ; except those who are 
 swept away on a flood-tide of complacent 
 conceit, without a question or a doubt ; often 
 to be rudely dispelled, however, at last. 
 Time wore on, and the opportunity seemed 
 never to offer itself. Miss Oldfield shared 
 in all her brother's hopes and fears, and 
 was almost as anxious about the result as 
 himself. She was very desirous of seeing 
 Edith Wharton her sister-in-law. She had 
 even decided to accept her as the future mis- 
 tress of Orton Hall, and to become a practical 
 cypher where she now for years had ruled 
 — no easy decision for a woman ; especially 
 when she means honestly to abide by it. 
 
 As to Miss Wharton herself, it is not 
 easy to describe her state of mind. That 
 Mr. Oldfield would some day make her a 
 formal proposal she knew well ; and never
 
 288 GAYTHOENE HALL. 
 
 attempted to disguise the fact from herself. 
 She was no flirt : she was an honest, truth- 
 ful girl, free from any desire to trifle with 
 a man's feelings ; who lived before flirting 
 had become regarded as a legitimate pastime 
 for men and maidens, — and perhaps widows 
 too. She had no low motives of seeing 
 how far she could bring her suitor under 
 her influence, to fling his love away when 
 the time of offering it came ; no callous 
 delight in torturino^ a man who is weak 
 enough to admire her, such as some girls 
 indulge in. She was too old-fashioned, as 
 well as too honourable, to calmly calculate 
 that Mr. Oldfield was one string to her bow, 
 who could be utilized if no more attractive 
 string came to hand. She liked him ; he 
 had never done anything to forfeit her 
 regard ; his assumption of some shadowy 
 authority over her, and her actions, had 
 never done more than slightly chafe at 
 times ; while his attentions were not dis- 
 ao^reeable, at least as a rule. Yet her feel- 
 ingrs were vague and chaotic.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 289 
 
 Perhaps she felt it unmaidenly to calcu- 
 late upon an offer which had not been made. 
 Possibly she felt that it would be time 
 to consider the question seriously when it 
 seemed imminent. It is certain that she 
 had not systematically studied the males 
 of her acquaintance, and weighed each care- 
 fully in her mental balance, and had each 
 ticketed with his precise value down to 
 pennyweights, ready against an emergency ; 
 as it is said is not unknown to the present 
 practical generation. She knew she was 
 good-looking. It was impossible that a lady 
 so neat in her attire, so particular about 
 her appearance, could consult her mirror so 
 rigorously, and not know^ her own features ; 
 and what they were like. But she had 
 never subjected them to any definite ap- 
 praisement for the matrimonial market. 
 Further, she had been deeply impressed 
 with what she had seen, and become familiar 
 with in company with Mrs. Pryor. Her 
 mind was in no mood to contemplate matri- 
 mony in a light and airy manner as a 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 woman's ultimate destiny. Life had looked 
 a little too serious to her of recent times 
 to apjDroach so grave a subject in a spirit 
 of levity. She had indeed rather been 
 inclined to put the subject away from her. 
 The condition of the times was such that 
 a proposal was not likely to be made to 
 her by Mr. Oldfield, she thought ; that is, 
 if she thought about the subject at all, 
 as perhaps she did, but, if so, very occasion- 
 ally. She did not know what motives were 
 prompting that gentleman to take action, 
 out of the best of feelings towards her ; if 
 not quite disinterestedly ! 
 
 However the eventful moment came, and 
 rather in the nature of a surprise to each. 
 Mr. Oldfield called at Fowrass Grange one 
 day, and found Miss Wharton alone. She 
 had been busy at the Grange Farm, and 
 having laid aside her outdoor wraps was 
 clad in a simple grey linsey-woolsey dress, 
 perfectly plain ; which set off her fine and 
 rather stately figure to advantage. The 
 exertion she had undergone had lent a little
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 291 
 
 colour to her usually pale cheek, which 
 became her well. She carried herself with 
 her usual stateliness, but her step seemed 
 even more springy than was habitual to it. 
 Her healthy vigorous womanhood was no 
 less obvious than her personal charms. Mr. 
 Oldfield gazed upon her with an admiration 
 which, unnoticed by its object, made the 
 pulsations of his heart plainly felt by 
 him. 
 
 The usual conventional conversation 
 having been discharged, Mr. Oldfield felt 
 he must take the momentous plunge. ' I 
 was wishful to see you alone, Miss Wharton. 
 I have something important to say to you ; 
 important to me ; and to you too, I venture 
 to think.' 
 
 ' I shall be glad to listen to what you 
 have to say,' was the ready reply. For she 
 scarcely thought anything more involved 
 than some social affliir on which he wished 
 to take her opinion without consulting her 
 brother about the matter ; and so wished 
 to see her idone. Had she anticipated a 
 
 u 2
 
 292 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 proposal, her tones might have been less 
 possessed and calm. 
 
 This looked like, or at least sounded like, 
 encouragement ; and in times of tension, 
 when hope and doubt are struggling for 
 mastery, the ear is very sensitive to a 
 tone. 
 
 ' I am glad you can listen to me. The 
 matter is one which has occupied my mind. 
 You must be aware of your attractions, your 
 charms. Miss Wharton ! ' The announce- 
 ment came upon her as a surprise carrying 
 with it a full consciousness of its import. She 
 gave a perceptible start, but did not break 
 the brief silence. Mr. Oldiield went on : 
 ' Nor can you, I venture to think, bo 
 unaware of the state of my feelings towards 
 you. They have been manifest for some 
 time, so as to be unmistakable.' This was 
 rather coldblooded love-making ; but Mr. 
 Old field became painfully aware of his 
 stature, and realized that there was no 
 courting that grand Alrunen-maiden in 
 the manner in which these must have been
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 293 
 
 courted, wooed, and won by their Norse 
 warrior-suitors, who put an arm round 
 them, firm and strong, the muscles hard- 
 ened by toil and warfare ; their natural 
 boldness of mind developed by 'a war- 
 like career. Perhaps, for once, he would 
 have liked to have added a cubit to his 
 stature. In an emergency he fell back 
 instinctively on his habitual caution. He 
 hesitated. 
 
 Miss Wharton looked calm and composed ; 
 but it cannot be said that she felt either. 
 Her first offer is a momentous matter to 
 a girl ; even when she has made up her 
 mind to say " Yes." But in this instance 
 the lady had no such prejudgment of the 
 case in her mind. There was much to 
 be said in favour of Mr. Oldfield ; and she 
 knew her uncle would be very glad if 
 she accepted him. She felt a momentary 
 chilliness, as if a cold draught of air 
 had suddenly fallen upon her — a slight 
 nervousness, in fact, as she answered : 
 
 ' I had not thought of them in that
 
 294 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 light. I always looked upon you as an 
 intimate friend.' 
 
 This was quite true as regards the last 
 statement. Was the first quite true ? A 
 stern moralist might raise some doubts ; 
 but the writer believes that the verdict 
 of his lady-readers will give the lady the 
 benefit of the doubt. In the whirl of a 
 proposal it is impossible to dot every * i ' 
 and cross every * t.' Mr. Oldfield realized 
 that his position was a doubtful one. 
 
 ' I have felt for some time past that 
 1 should like to stand on some nearer 
 relationship than that of a friend, Miss 
 Wharton. I have examined my own feel- 
 ings, and find that my feeling towards you 
 is a warmer one — indeed is that of love 
 itself" 
 
 Here he ventured to take her hand, 
 which felt cold and marbly. It lay im- 
 passive in his, listless, and without its 
 usual firm touch, for a moment ; and then 
 was gently, but firmly withdrawn. 
 
 ' I have further noted your behaviour,
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 295 
 
 and I have dared to think that the feelmo[ 
 was returned. May I ask if it is so ? ' 
 
 This last was said with a passionate 
 emphasis, unlike the usual guarded accents 
 of the speaker. Miss Wiiarton was moved. 
 
 ' I wish you had not thought so ! ' she 
 replied. 
 
 ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' Because I fear you have made a 
 mistake.' 
 
 This was said very quietly and slowly ; 
 the speaker experiencing a slight shiver. 
 
 'Mistake! Miss Wharton. It is im- 
 possible. I have watched you carefully. 
 I cannot be mistaken ! ' 
 
 ' I fear you are,' she said gravely. 
 
 ' Do not say so ; please do not say so ; it 
 is impossible, Miss Wharton ; you cannot 
 imagine what my feelings are towards you, 
 when you speak so coldly. No ; I cannot 
 be mistaken. I have carefully watched your 
 every word, its emphasis, and every action 
 and gesture. Surely I cannot be mistaken ! ' 
 The energy with which this was uttered
 
 296 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 made Miss Wharton look at her suitor with 
 a more intense scrutiny. She saw how 
 terribly in earnest he was. His eyes were 
 dilated as he rivetted his gaze upon her ; 
 they almost seemed to speak in their 
 expectancy. His features were set ; the 
 long upper lip was compressed, yet seemed 
 to quiver faintly. His whole attitude was 
 that of a man at the utmost point of 
 tension. She could not remain unaffected 
 by the sight. Her sympathies were dis- 
 tinctly aroused ; her pity for him grew strong 
 within her. But, with these, other feelings 
 were stirred. Hers was not the nature to 
 throw away the past and the future at the 
 dictate of the present, however imperative. 
 It was not that emotional, impulsive nature, 
 to be swept away in a current of feeling 
 over which her judgment could exercise 
 no control. Her will was not powerless ; 
 though the strain upon it was painful to 
 bear. She spoke very quietly, as she 
 said : 
 
 ' My feelings towards you are those of a
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 297 
 
 friend — a sincere friend. But, Mr. Old field, 
 friendship is not love ! ' 
 
 ' But friendship may grow into love ! ' 
 he gasped desperately ; ' your friendliness 
 will grow into something more ; I feel a con- 
 viction of it, Miss Wharton. You cannot 
 have inquired of your own heart — search it 
 asfain — this cannot be true.' A hurricane of 
 emotion passed over the little gentleman, 
 so unlike his wonted gravity ; he seemed 
 positively shaken with his emotion. 
 
 Miss Wharton felt the position becoming 
 intensely painful. It cut her to the heart 
 to see her old friend so troubled, when a 
 word of hers could put him at ease. It was 
 only a word; but that word she could not 
 speak. The feeling within her grew stronger 
 and stronger ; that to say ' yes ' to end a 
 painful scene was a sacrifice which could 
 not be made, it would not be fair to either. 
 With a mighty effort, she answered : 
 
 ' Mr. Oldfield, it distresses me very much 
 to see you ; to hear you.. I am so sorry this 
 has happened. Could not the mistake
 
 298 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 have been prevented ? Why have I not 
 foreseen this ; and so have prevented it ? ' 
 
 ' Do not say so, Miss Wharton ; do not 
 say that. Why should it not be as I wish ? 
 Why can you not love me ? Oh, tell me 
 that ^ ' 
 
 The intense emotion with which these 
 words were uttered told of the amount of 
 earnestness which underlay the habitual 
 reserve. 
 
 * My feelings are not such as to warrant 
 my saying that they are love. They are 
 friendship ; but nothing more.' 
 
 ' Could you not think of it in time ? 
 Think it over, Miss Wharton. I have taken 
 you by surprise. I will wait till another 
 time — till you have considered the matter.' 
 
 The eager gaze, the tremulous tones, the 
 tight clutch on her hand, testified to the 
 speaker's earnestness. 
 
 ' I fear it is useless. You ask what will 
 make no change. Time will not change 
 friendliness to love.' 
 
 She looked at him firmly, but kindly.
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 299 
 
 ' You have not given your love to an- 
 other ? ' he asked hoarsely, with intense 
 suspense. 
 
 * I have not,' was the steady response ; as 
 if the speaker were glad to assuage the 
 terrible agony which it went to her heart 
 to witness. 
 
 * Thank heaven for that, Miss Wharton. 
 I have hope — indeed I have.' This one 
 gleam of comfort was like a flash of sunlight 
 through a rift in a black bank of cloud. 
 Its momentary comfort soothed the agitated 
 suitor, and he continued : * I can live in 
 hope ; I will wait with patience.' He 
 seemed bowed and broken with the trial to 
 which his self-command had just been ex- 
 posed. He felt as if rest were at hand. 
 ' You will listen to me at another time. 
 You do not know how complete is my love 
 for you.' 
 
 What was Miss Wharton to do ? — the 
 position was most embarrassing. To inflict 
 pain upon Mr. Oldfield was the last thing 
 in her thoughts. She would willingly save
 
 300 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 him pain. She was suffering herself. She 
 kaew that. But she also realized that her 
 suffering was as nothing to his. Her heart 
 was not a hard one ; it was full of sym- 
 pathy for suffering. She halted, she hesi- 
 tated ; she felt she ought not to leave him 
 under a false impression; she ought to let 
 him know precisely her position. No change 
 of feeling was to be looked for ; she felt it 
 was her duty to say so. But she did not 
 say it. Her womanly pity for the man so 
 utterly humbled before her ; her remem- 
 brance of the many kindnesses she had 
 received at his hands ; perhaps the subtle 
 flattery of love to which it is said a woman 
 can never be utterly deaf, or insensible, 
 pleaded for him. In the conflict within her 
 she felt unable to destroy his last hope. It 
 may have been weakness — contemptible 
 weakness. It may have been positively 
 wrong. Woman must be her judge. Man 
 can find valid extenuating circumstances 
 for her conduct. After a pause, she replied : 
 ' r will think it over.'
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 301 
 
 ' How I thank you from the bottom of 
 my heart ! You will think it over. How 
 good of you ! ' The reaction came, and from 
 the depths of despair his hope bounded 
 upwards. ' I may hope, then 1 ' 
 
 But Miss Wharton had no intention to 
 deliberately deceive. Her answer had been 
 wrested from her by the terrible strain on 
 her feelinofs. It was said rather as an 
 escape from a position that was growing 
 intolerable, than as encouragement to Mr. 
 Oldfield to persevere. She saw the error, 
 and tried to amend it. 
 
 ' I will think it over, as you request ; but 
 I cannot say that there is much prospect 
 of my decision being altered. I must be 
 truthful to you, Mr. Oldfield.' 
 
 Here once more the ordinary calmer, 
 more rational, less intense, feelings were 
 beginning to take the place of the high- 
 strung emotion which had held a complete, 
 if brief, sway over both. The usurpation of 
 passion was yielding to less absorbing con- 
 siderations. Mr. Oldfield became conscious
 
 302 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 of the alteration — the change. It favoured 
 him. The significance of hesitation under 
 circumstances of this nature is universally- 
 recognized. Hope will whisper through the 
 narrowest chink. 
 
 ' You are always truthful, Miss Oldfield. 
 It is your very truthfulness which has made 
 you distrust your own feelings at the pre- 
 sent. You will find, as you examine your- 
 self, that your feelings are warmer than you 
 yourself can all at once realize. I feel a 
 strong trust that time will work for me/ 
 
 The tones of his voice told of returning 
 confidence ; hope was gaining the ascendant. 
 Miss Wharton felt this was really unwar- 
 ranted. In the rapid self-communing of the 
 past few minutes she could find no feeling 
 in her heart she could call love. But she 
 could not dash his rising hopes utterly to 
 the ground. She permitted him to go on 
 without a check ; as she ought not to have 
 done, doubtless ; but then she was young, 
 very inexperienced, — and this was her 
 first offer. She was thinking of the poor
 
 GAYTHORXE HALL. 303 
 
 man's suffering at the immediate present. 
 She was not thinking of how her conduct 
 would look when she came to inspect it 
 after a distinct lapse of time, — w^hen the 
 emotions had calmed down. 
 
 ' Do not be too certain of that, Mr. Old- 
 field/ was all she managed to say. 
 
 * But I do feel so. I am sure you will see 
 the matter as I do, Edith. May I not call 
 you Edith, Miss Wharton, in future ? " 
 
 This was very natural: but it flashed 
 across the girl's mind that this was a famili- 
 arity that could only give rise to erroneous 
 and false impressions ; could only lead others 
 to believe that their relations were other 
 than they really were. She saw the danger, 
 and replied : 
 
 ' I have no special objection to your doing 
 so. But do you think it desirable to make 
 any change at present ? ' 
 
 This allusion to the future again struck 
 him ; and he concluded it augured well for 
 him. Everything referring to the future 
 seemed to be in his favour.
 
 304 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' I will not be in haste to use the privilege,' 
 he replied. * But may I not think of you 
 as Edith ? ' This was a still further decline 
 towards strictly conventional love-making ; 
 and Miss Wharton felt it to be so, clearly 
 and positively. 
 
 ' I can exercise no control over your 
 thoughts, Mr. Oldfield. But I must ask you 
 not to let your thoughts pass your lips. 
 May I in turn ask this ? " 
 
 ' You may indeed. I thank you sincerely 
 for your permission. I shall still think of 
 you as possibly mine. Do you know, Miss 
 Wharton, I have already ascertained the 
 views of your family on this matter ? ' 
 Miss Wharton again started. This was 
 new to her indeed. She felt somewhat 
 angry at the announcement ; and yet 
 it was only what she might have ex- 
 pected. 
 
 ' You surprise me,' she said, rather 
 haughtily. The tone struck him. She 
 was indignant evidently, and resented this 
 action. He saw the tide of feeling was
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 305 
 
 turning against liim ; and he tried to 
 retrieve his error. So he continued : 
 
 * I felt it my duty to gain the permission 
 of your brother and your uncle; to ascer- 
 tain if my proposition would meet with 
 their approval, before I spoke to you 
 on the momentous subject/ Here Mr. 
 Oldfield was taking the vulpine track 
 habitual to him. Miss Wharton saw clearly 
 how by so doing, and having gained their 
 consent, he had practically their sanction ; 
 and that in declining his proposal she placed 
 herself in a certain antagonism to her 
 family. She felt as if he had stolen a 
 march upon her. Her temper was none 
 of the mildest : and she fired up as these 
 thouo^hts flashed throuorh her mind like 
 lightning; as thoughts will in times of 
 intense feeling. 
 
 'You may have secured their consent ; 
 but you have not yet gained mine. You 
 understand that ! ' 
 
 He did understand indeed the words, and 
 the tone in which they were uttered. His 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 faculties, never dull, were sharpened by the 
 emergency. He saw she was angry. 
 
 ' I could not have done otherwise, Miss 
 Wharton. I could not have spoken to 
 you without having first ascertained if 
 such action would be agreeable to your 
 relatives.' Miss Wharton felt that he had 
 reason upon his side in this ; and a re- 
 action set in, based on the feeling that 
 she might have been unjust in the suspicion 
 which prompted her harsh remark. 
 
 'You were quite right, I admit. But it 
 does not follow that I must yield to the 
 wishes of my brother and my uncle.' 
 
 ' I never hinted at such a thing, I assure 
 you. I merely wished you to understand 
 that my present action is no momentary 
 impulse ; but the result of deliberate thought, 
 Miss Wharton. Do not misunderstand me.' 
 
 His appeal to the generous element in 
 her nature was successful ; and Mr. Oldfielcl 
 observed the effect, and continued : 
 
 ' If you knew. Miss Wharton — Edith ! 
 all that has gone on in my mind ; all the
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 307 
 
 thought that has told me how my love for 
 you has become a part of my existence, 
 — you would not put my love away from 
 you.' 
 
 ' I have hot put it away from me, Mr. 
 Oldfield. I have told you that my feelings 
 are those of friendship ; not of love. Our 
 feelings are not at beck and call. They do 
 not obey us : we have to obey them. If 
 your feelings have induced you to offer 
 your hand ; mine tell me I cannot accept it.' 
 
 ' But you have promised to think the 
 subject over. I may speak to you again 
 at some future day.' 
 
 ' I have promised. And you may do so. 
 But I have told you, have warned you, 
 that I do not anticipate any change in 
 my feelings.' 
 
 Here he suddenly seized her hand once 
 more ; and, before she could withdraw it, he 
 had imprinted on it a kiss. The unexpected 
 act sent a thrill through her ; and yet it 
 was not a thrill of delight. 
 
 ' I must go now, Mr. Oldfield,' she said 
 
 X 2
 
 308 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 firmly ; the tone telling him that the 
 interview was ended. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Edith/ he said. She did not 
 reprove him for using her name. After- 
 wards she thought she ought to have 
 done so. 
 
 Mr. Oldfield left Fowrass Grange with 
 many thoughts and feelings surging through 
 his mind. He felt mortified that he had 
 not been successful. But his wounded 
 pride sought solace in the promise that 
 Miss Wharton had given him to think the 
 matter over, and that he might speak to 
 her again. Her uncle had told him he 
 might not be successful the first time of 
 asking ; he must try again. But his self 
 pride told him that he would not relish 
 failure a second time. He had not been 
 flatly refused. He might call her ^ Edith.' 
 He had gained something. He had broken 
 the ice, and she knew the position. Yes ; 
 arid he might some day speak to her again. 
 Still the position was far from satisfactory. 
 
 It had not been a long scene; probably
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 309 
 
 it had only occupied a few minutes. But 
 it already seemed to have saturated his 
 past for years back. Counted by his 
 emotions the interview might have ex- 
 tended over several hours. He felt wearied, 
 as if he had gone through a long struggle. 
 His mind seemed exhausted. He could 
 come to no conclusion ; yet the subject 
 occupied his mind to the exclusion of all 
 other topics. When he reached home, his 
 sister's keen eye took in the circumstances 
 in a moment. Her eagerness to know the 
 facts overcame her habitual deference. 
 
 'You have proposed to Miss Wharton, 
 Stephen. What did she say ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' She said she would think the matter 
 over.' 
 
 ' Was that all ? I fear she is a trifler. 
 Yet I never thought of her in that light. 
 You surprise me.' 
 
 He did not feel inclined, at that time at 
 least, to enter into any details. ^' 
 
 As to Miss Wharton, she felt bruised by 
 the episode. It had been a greater trial to
 
 310 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 her than she realized while the scene was 
 being enacted. After she had sat down 
 and thought it all over, she felt wounded; 
 and yet she could not well tell in what 
 her sense of injury consisted. Mr. Oldfield 
 had testified his regard for her in the 
 strongest manner that a man can testify 
 his regard ; he had offered her his hand. 
 She had rather liked than disliked him. 
 Certainly she did not despise him : the 
 fatal feeling for a lover. Yet as certainly 
 she did not look up to him. There was 
 not that respect which often precedes, and 
 is easily transformed into love. Then she 
 felt that he had rather taken advantao^e 
 of her in alluding to the permission 
 he had gained from her uncle and her 
 brother. How could her decision be ex- 
 plained to them ? What would they think 
 when they came to find out that no engage- 
 ment existed between them ? It was a 
 very awkward dilemma, she felt. What 
 could she say the next time Mr. Oldfield 
 spoke to her ? The future seemed no more
 
 GAYTHORNE HALL. 311 
 
 attractive than the present. Would she 
 ever like Mr. Oldiield more than she then 
 did 1 She feared not. And then the image 
 of another rose up in her mind — his tall 
 figure, his earnest mien. If it had been he 
 that had asked her to wait — to think ; what 
 would her answer have been ? Aye, what 
 would it have been ? Who knows ! 
 
 And so Mr. Oldfield had made his long- 
 deferred proposal to Miss Wharton ; and 
 she had not accepted him. W^hat had been 
 gained ? Very little ! He was stung at 
 not being accepted. She smarted with the 
 sense that her action would be construed 
 into opposition to the wishes of her family. 
 She could not speak to her brother, she 
 thought ; but on further reflection she felt 
 she must. What would her brother say ? 
 When he came in she went up to him, and 
 nestlino^ her head on his breast, she said : 
 
 CD ' 
 
 ' John, Mr. Oldfield has proposed to me.' 
 He held her firmly, and gazed at her 
 with a searching look. 
 ' And the result was ? '
 
 312 GAYTHORNE HALL. 
 
 ' I have not accepted him.' 
 
 He folded her in his arms and kissed 
 her. It was evident he was not angry 
 with her. 
 
 Such, then, was the position of affairs 
 betwixt the Old fields and the Whartons, 
 and of the Whartons towards their uncle ; 
 when the catastrophe of Tom Earnshaw's 
 murder came upon them all, and changed 
 the face of affairs profoundly. 
 
 END OF VOL. L
 
 H
 
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