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 LETTER 
 
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 L I B RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 
 ?■
 
 THE 
 
 LADIES OF BEVER HOLLOW. 
 
 A Tale of English Country Life, 
 By the Author of "Mary Powell." 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Our name, while virtue thus we tender, 
 Shall sweetly sound, where'er 'tis spoke, 
 And all the great ones, they shall wonder 
 How they respect such little folk. 
 
 Still shall each kind returning season 
 
 Sufficient for our wishes give ; 
 
 For we wiU live a life of reason, 
 
 And that 's the only life to live! " — Winipbeda, 
 
 LONDON ; 
 Printed for RICHARD BENTLEY. New Burlington Street. 
 
 1858.
 
 LONDON : 
 R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL,
 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 .^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Butter Badger i 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 The Female Farmers 8 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 Theodora i\ 
 
 N CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Footsteps in the Sno^i 37 
 
 rS CHAPTER V. 
 . r A Snug Fireside 46 
 
 I CHAPTER VL 
 
 I ' Mr. George's Rrveries 58 
 
 ^ CHAPTER VII. 
 
 \ 
 
 The Farm-yard Awake 71 
 
 On 
 
 •^ CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1^ The De Bones ^^ 
 
 L
 
 IV CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pamela's Peccadillos 114 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Green Wig 141 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Pamela's Troubles 157 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sifting 198 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Decision 206 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 New Lights 231 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Pamela's Cogitations . . . .\\ 240 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 RhodcHs Ruminations 258 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Mrs. Brand 177
 
 TO THE KEADER. 
 
 There are some traits in one of the ladies 
 of Bever Hollow that may remind a few of 
 one whom they loved and lost, but whose 
 circumstances had no resemblance to those of 
 the fictitious character, except that she bore 
 a wasting, fatal illness, with fortitude and 
 cheerfulness. Advantage is taken, however, of 
 her position as a sufferer, to speak sundry words 
 of counsel and comfort to those in like case, 
 though the accidents of her story are only 
 useful to heighten the interest. 
 
 Sir E. Bulwer Lytton has lately found it 
 needful to remind his readers that ideal art and 
 matter-of-fact portraiture are wholly distinct from 
 each other. 
 
 June 1, 1858.
 
 THE LADIES 
 
 OF 
 
 BEVER HOLLOW 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Butter Badger. 
 
 Bent as he moves, and needing frequent rest. 
 
 Yet do such travellers find their own delight ; 
 
 And their hard service, deemed debasing now, 
 
 Gained merited respect in simpler times. 
 
 When squire, and priest, and they who round them dwelt 
 
 In rustic sequestration, all dependent 
 
 Upon the pedlar's toil, supplied their wants 
 
 Or pleased their fiancies with the wares he brought. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 OOME years ago, a man with a basket and 
 ^ pack was crossing a lone moor, in one of 
 our midland districts, bending his face against 
 the wind, and making as direct a way as he 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 T^he Ladies of 
 
 could towards a white house, set against a dark 
 hill. 
 
 He was one of those negotiators who still, 
 perhaps, in some secluded parts of the country, 
 go from one lonely farm-house to another, to 
 pick up such fresh butter, honey, and eggs as 
 thrifty housewives have to dispose of, in the 
 way of barter for tea, sugar, snufF, and such 
 small groceries. 
 
 He was now on his way to the Hill-house 
 Farm. It stood rather disconsolately peering 
 over a high brick-wall, a few yards of which 
 were considerately cut down before the entrance, 
 and supplied by a row of white palings, but 
 which almost entirely concealed the small farm 
 in the rear. The front of the house faced the 
 north, which made it look bleak and cold: 
 there were no carts or wains lumbering to and 
 fro, no horses being watered in the pond, no 
 sound of the flail in the barn ; and, altogether,
 
 Bever Hollow, 3 
 
 it did look rather dreary and uninviting. All 
 who are acquainted with farm life must be 
 familiar with this occasional appearance of 
 torpor. 
 
 The butter-badger, no whit dismayed, raised 
 the latch of a small side-door in the wall, but 
 found the inside bolt shot. This threw him 
 out: however, he next applied himself to the 
 little white gate facing the front door, the 
 knocker of which he boldly raised to give a 
 loud single knock. After waiting some time for 
 a response, he knocked again; after another 
 pause, a third time ; and then his patience gave 
 way, and he began to think that, unless he were 
 quite certified to the contrary, he should have 
 concluded nobody to be at home. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, he proceeded 
 
 along the little pebbled walk between the house 
 
 and the palings, and looked furtively in at one 
 
 of the windows. The strip of garden in front 
 
 b2
 
 4 T^he Ladies of 
 
 was kept with perfect neatness, and planted 
 with larkspurs, marigolds, lavender, stocks, and 
 other common flowers; none of which throve 
 very well, by reason of the bleak aspect. The 
 butter-badger paid them no attention at all ; 
 but, peering into the parlour window, at first 
 timidly and next scrutinizingly, he saw what 
 petrified him — a bundle of lilac-coloured drapery 
 lying on the floor, which contained the senseless 
 body of a lady. 
 
 It was no time to stand upon trifles — the 
 butter-badger ran with all his force against the 
 green door of a slight lath partition, which, con- 
 necting the house with the garden-wall, where 
 it joined the palings, aided in shutting the inner 
 premises out of sight. 
 
 The door, thus assailed, easily gave way; and 
 the butter-badger rushed into a blaze of warm, 
 sunny light, — the mellow autumnal sun stream- 
 ing brightly on a sheltered country garden, full
 
 Bever Hollow. 5 
 
 of gaudy flowers, fruit-trees on southern walls, 
 straight turfen walks, clipped arbours, stone 
 images, and grottoes. 
 
 The badger ran round to the scullery-door, 
 which he found on the latch, — passed through 
 the empty kitchen, along a stone passage, which 
 presently became covered with matting, — and 
 bolt into the parlour, which he had never entered 
 before in his life. 
 
 Having, with great trepidation, raised the 
 lady in his arms, and placed her on a sofa, he 
 discovered, on hasty examination, a small wound 
 near the temple, from which blood was trickling. 
 To his relief, there were no signs of suicide or 
 murder— the case appeared simply one of acci- 
 dent. But as his experience in such cases was 
 small, he only ventured to fetch some cold water, 
 and dash it in her face, before he set out in 
 quest of assistance. 
 
 Instead of returning to the moor, he ran down
 
 6 T^he Ladies of 
 
 a pleached alley, and opened a garden-door, 
 which let him out on a sort of straggling 
 common, with several small cottages about it. 
 He was proceeding to the nearest of these, when 
 he saw a young lady, dressed in white, with 
 a green parasol, walking leisurely along. To 
 her he forthwith applied with, " Sarvant, miss — 
 beg pardon, but missis is in a fit ! " 
 
 *' A fit !— Mrs. who ? " said the young lady, 
 looking much alarmed. 
 
 *' Mrs. Althea — that's to say, the eldest of 
 the Miss Halls, of the Hill Farm; and there 
 seems to be nobody with her in the house." 
 
 " Dear me 1 " ejaculated the young lady, *' and 
 we have never seen one another! " 
 
 This was addressed rather to herself than to 
 the butter-badger, whom she immediately and 
 alertly followed whence he came. 
 
 On passing through the door in the wall into 
 that gay old garden, with its wealth of dahlias.
 
 Bever Hollow. J 
 
 hollyliocks, escolzias, geraniums, and roses, she 
 quite started at the unexpected brightness and 
 beauty of the scene ; but, the next moment, fol- 
 lowed him into the house, and busied herself in 
 humane care of the swooning lady. Almost the 
 next minute, a stupid -looking country girl, 
 with a key on her finger and a small mug in 
 her hand, appeared in the doorway, and stood 
 agape ; then exclaimed, " Law, whatever's come 
 over missis?"
 
 ^he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Female Farmers. 
 
 As, ceaseless still, she throve, alert, alive, 
 The working bee in full or empty hive, 
 Busy and careful, like that working bee. 
 No time for love nor tender cares had she. 
 But when the farmers paid their amorous vows. 
 She talked of market-steeds and patent ploughs^ 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 rpiIERE were two Miss Halls, Althea and 
 -*- Catherine, daughters of a country gentleman 
 of ancient family, whose son had been sheriff of 
 the county. But the family had dwindled to 
 nothing ; the estate had melted away, and death 
 had deprived it of all but these two female re- 
 presentatives. On losing their father, whose ener- 
 gies were much impaired during the last years
 
 Bever Hollow. 9 
 
 of his life, the sisters found themselves in 
 middle age, with about four hundred pounds 
 apiece, and no one to help them. 
 
 Both had great force of mind ; but one was 
 studious, the other active ; one was thoughtful, 
 the other practical; one could conceive and 
 suggest, the other could execute; one could 
 bear much pain, the other go through much 
 labour ; one was cheerful, but serious, the other 
 jovial, and occasionally dull ; one was Mary, 
 the other Martha. 
 
 Though their persons were not unpleasing, 
 they were not so young as to be likely to be 
 sought in marriage by men suitable to their 
 birth and education. They had no kindred to 
 offer them a genteel dependence, nor any incli- 
 nation to separate from one another, and go out 
 into a world of which they had seen little, in 
 quest of lucrative employment. So, having 
 talked the matter well over, they took a farm.
 
 lo T^he Ladies of 
 
 hired labourers, and embarked in husbandry. 
 Mrs. Kitty soon became a capital practical 
 farmer, without having much native elegance 
 to lose, nor any need to lose her sterling good- 
 nature and kindness. Mrs. Althea read treatises 
 on agriculture, kept the accounts, wrote busi- 
 ness-letters, looked after the housekeeping, and 
 managed the flower-garden and the bees, till 
 she was laid low by a tedious and sometimes ex- 
 cruciating chronical ajffection, which threatened 
 to last all her life, without much shortening 
 it. They had gone on prosperously for many 
 years, respected and loved by gentry, yeomanry, 
 and peasantry \ and if there were a few sneering 
 fellows, who would speak among themselves of 
 Farmer Kitty and Master Kate, they were not 
 those whose word went for much, or who had 
 the good word of many others. 
 
 When Mrs. Althea came to herself, she 
 looked, as the butter-badger afterwards ex-
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 1 
 
 pressed it, " skeared-like ; " which was natural 
 enough, seeing that she found two persons look- 
 ing closely at her, one of whom she had never 
 seen before ; the other, never in that room. 
 
 With a somewhat bewildered air, she said, 
 " Who are you? is anything the matter?" 
 
 " I am Khoda Hill — the youngest Miss Hill 
 of Carlton Hall," replied the young lady ; 
 " and was told by this good man that he had 
 found you in a fit." 
 
 " Why, — you are John Twiddy, I 
 
 think ? " said Mrs. Althea, doubtfully. 
 
 " Just so," said the badger, ducking his 
 head ; " I finds you on the gi'und, mum, all of 
 a crump, and splashes some cold water on ye, 
 and fetches this young gentlewoman, no one 
 seeming to be in the house to tend on ye — and 
 now, may be, I'd best cut away." 
 
 " I'll thank you better the next time I see 
 you, John, than I can now," said Mrs. Althea,
 
 12 T^he Ladies of 
 
 as lie suited the action to the word. " Where 
 have you been, Jenny? " 
 
 *' I'm sure my back wasn't turned a minute," 
 said the girl, looking both ashamed and sulky. 
 There are some who always turn sulky when 
 they ought simply to be ashamed. 
 
 " Well, get me another dress as quickly as 
 you can, at any rate," said Mrs. Althea, " for 
 this is quite wet : I suppose some water has 
 been thrown upon me." 
 
 " By the man, not by me," said Bhoda, as 
 Jenny went off; "I dare say he hardly knew 
 what he did, for he seemed very much fright- 
 ened. Are you in pain ? " 
 
 " I feel bruised and shaken, that is all. What 
 is this?" 
 
 " Your temple was bleeding, and I dare say 
 it is very tender: I have closed the wound 
 pretty well." 
 
 " Thank you gratefully. Ah ! I remember
 
 Bever Hollow. 13 
 
 now all about it. Our old, faithful servant has 
 a holiday, a rare indulgence; and this lass, 
 being unaccustomed to my ways or to confine- 
 ment, has left me to wait pretty much on my- 
 self. It was time to take my medicine; she 
 had put the little hand-bell out of my reach ; I 
 was not strong enough to make her hear my 
 voice; and, in attempting to reach the bell, 
 I lost my balance, and fell with my head 
 against the fender." 
 
 " But, dear me ! how unfit you are to be left ! 
 and what a much worse accident it might have 
 been." 
 
 "It might, indeed, my dear; — excuse my 
 calling you so, but your kindness has made us 
 friends at once." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you for calling 
 me one," said Rhoda, shyly. 
 
 " Why, you have been a good Samaritan to 
 me," said Mrs. Althea; " I shall tell Kitty so,
 
 14 T^he Ladies of 
 
 when she returns from the horse-fair: she is 
 gone to sell our old gi^ey, and get a useful little 
 pony. Oh, here comes my dress ! " 
 
 And with some difficulty the two inexpe- 
 rienced assistants inducted the poor lady into 
 her dry habiliments; after which she made 
 Jenny give her her medicine, and then laid back 
 her head on the cushion Ehoda had lightly 
 shaken up for her. 
 
 " And now, my kind young friend," said she, 
 " you may leave me with an easy mind, for 
 I shall settle to sleep, and want nothing." 
 
 " Do you mind my being here?" said Rhoda, 
 timidly. 
 
 " Mind it ! oh no ! I am always grateful for 
 the sight of a bright young face." 
 
 " Please, then, to let me stay ; for it is quite 
 a treat to me to have anything like a duty to 
 fulfil. Mine is such a purposeless life ! " 
 
 " It should not be — but, my dear, my eyes
 
 Bever Hollow. 15 
 
 are involuntarily closing under the influence of 
 my narcotic. I am afraid I shall be asleep 
 in another minute." 
 
 " Oh, never mind : I will take up a book, and 
 read till you wake." 
 
 '* Aye, that will be your only resource," 
 drowsily responded Mrs. Althea, whose eyes 
 were fast closing ; and the next minute she was 
 in profound repose. 
 
 Rhoda presently raised her eyes from her 
 book to the careworn but pleasant face of her 
 charge, whom she gazed on with interest and 
 respect. 
 
 Having dwelt and speculated sufficiently on 
 her personal appearance, which was unmistake- 
 ably that ctf a gentlewoman, and woven a 
 fanciful little romance in connexion with the 
 hair ring on the pale hand, she next began 
 quietly to extend her observations to the room 
 in which she was sitting. It was long, low,
 
 1 6 T^he Ladies of 
 
 and irregular, with three windows, one of which, 
 being that through which the badger had espied 
 Mrs. Althea, was dull enough, overlooking the 
 moor ; another was a semi-hexagon bow, open- 
 ing with folding sashes, painted white, into the 
 cheerful garden; and the third was a smaller 
 window, in an odd little niche, contrived by 
 removing a cupboard, which was in the side 
 wall of the house, and, shaded by honeysuckle 
 and Cape jessamine, commanded a side view of 
 the garden wall, with bee-hives under it, and 
 a peep into the farmyard. This was Mrs. 
 Kitty's favourite corner ; here were her wicker 
 chair, stuffed footstool, gardening scissors, and 
 a bundle of red and blue shreds for the fruit- 
 trees, to testify to the fact. The^ ceiling was 
 lt)w, and crossed by one or two whitewashed 
 beams : the walls were panelled, but disfigured 
 by the hand of bad taste, which had painted 
 them pea-green, picked out with white. But
 
 Beaver Hollow, 17 
 
 little of them, however, offended the eye, the 
 greater portion being covered with neat, plain 
 bookcases, filled with an inviting and very mis- 
 cellaneous collection of history, travels, memoirs, 
 essays, poetry, moral philosophy, divinity, 
 treatises on farming and gardening, — aye, 
 and sundiy old novels too, some worth much, 
 others little or nothing. Here, by way of 
 curiosity, are a few of the names of works 
 long since devoted to the grocer and pastry- 
 cook — 
 
 " Constantia Neville ;" " Shenstone Green 
 '' The Poet's Day, or Imagination's Kamble 
 " A Plain Answer to a Plain Question 
 "Eemarks on the late Session of Parlia- 
 ment;" (date, 1804!) " The Linnet, or Annual 
 Museum ; being a Collection of all the Songs for 
 the year 1803, with a Frontispiece." "Amaze- 
 ment ;" by Mrs. Meeke. '* Virtuous Poverty ; " 
 by Henry Siddons, 3 vols., boards. " The Oppor- 
 
 VOT. I. C
 
 1 8 T^he Ladies of 
 
 tunity ; or, Eeasons for an Immediate Alliance 
 with St. Domingo ;" by the Author of " The 
 Crisis of the Sugar Colonies." "A Dive into 
 Buonaparte's Councils;" "The Wiccamical 
 Chaplet; a selection of Original Poetry, com- 
 prising smaller poems, classical trifles; edited 
 by George Huddersford." " Alvar and Sera- 
 phina; or, the Troubles of Murcia;" "The 
 Tourifications of Malachi Meldrum ;" " Edwin ; 
 or, the Heir of Ella;" &c., &c., &c. 
 
 Along with these, none of which, to do them 
 justice, appeared with uncut pages, were to be 
 seen in graver guise, Spenser, Chaucer, Shak- 
 speare, Milton, Sidney's " Arcadia ;" Kollin, 
 Rapin, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Bede, John 
 Speed, "Old Stow;" Clarendon's Life, in 
 three volumes, and Clarendon's Eebellion, in 
 six ; Jackson's Works, Hammond's ditto ; 
 Sherlock, Atterbmy, Tillotson; all the British 
 Essayists, from the Spectator to the Lounger;
 
 Bever Hollow, 19 
 
 all the British poets published by Cooke ; Sir 
 Thomas More's Life, bj his grandson ; *' The 
 Utopia ; '^ Karamsin's Travels ; Pictet's 
 "Voyage en Angleterre;" Miss Seward's 
 Works; Correspondence of Miss Talbot with 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Carter ; Walter Scott's Poems, 
 in quarto; the earliest editions of Southey, 
 Wordsworth, Coleridge, Crabbe, Miss Edge- 
 worth, Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, Mrs. Grant 
 of Laggan, &c., &c., &c. 
 
 Ehoda, who was a book-devourer^ fed upon 
 these and other titles with a hungry eye. Then 
 she beheld with wondering admiration, the 
 expenditure of industrious ingenuity in the 
 curtains and carpet of the room. The former 
 were of patchwork, in roses of many-coloured 
 hexagons, on a sad-coloured ground, lined with 
 pea-green, and fringed with a pretty home- 
 manufactured fringe of green and white. The 
 carpet was dark green cloth or dnigget, bordered 
 c2
 
 20 7 he Ladies of 
 
 with a broad edging of gay flowers in worsted- 
 work. The chair-seats, also, were tent-stitch ; 
 there were globes, a tambour-frame, a lace- 
 pillow, a spinning-wheel, a striking-clock in 
 a square picture framed and glazed, a case 
 of dried butterflies^ another of stuffed birds, 
 various curious specimens of turning and 
 carving, an ebony cabinet, and an old piano, 
 painted like Salvator Rosa's harpsichord, with 
 a design comprising music-books, wind-instru- 
 ments, an hour-glass, and a skull.
 
 Bever Hollow. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Theodora, 
 
 A creature not too bright or good 
 For human natvire's daily food, 
 For transient sorrows, simple wiles. 
 Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles. 
 
 T) HODA was turning round after completing 
 -^^ her survey, when she started and blushed 
 a little to find Mrs. Althea's hazel eyes fixed 
 on her with a keen and amused scrutiny. 
 
 There is something in youth and fireshness 
 peculiarly pleasant to an invalid in the decHne 
 of life, whose shady hours are seldom lighted 
 up by such moral sunbeams. Nor was Rhoda 
 too gay, brilliant, and flaunting for the subdued 
 tone of a patient sufferer. There is a passage
 
 22 T^he Ladies of 
 
 in an old number of Blackwood's Magazine 
 that will give no bad idea of Rhoda Hill. 
 It begins thus : — 
 
 " In the spirit, we have had for nearly 
 twenty years, an only daughter, and her Chris- 
 tian and Scriptural name is Theodora, — 'the 
 gift of God; 
 
 "The creature is most religious. Of all 
 books, she loves best her Bible; of all days, 
 most blessed to her is the Sabbath. She goeth 
 but to one church. That one pew is a pleasant 
 place, hung round with holy thoughts as with 
 garlands of flowers, whose bloom is perennial, 
 and whose balm breathes of a purer region. 
 
 " She is not the mere child of impulse. In 
 her bosom, pure and shady, feeling has grown 
 up in the light of thought. Simple indeed is 
 her hearty but wise in its simplicity : — inno- 
 cence sees far and clear with her dove-like 
 eyes. Theodora has her duties; on them she
 
 Bever Hollow, 23 
 
 meditates both day and night. A life of duty 
 is the only cheerful one ; for joy springs from 
 the affections, and 'tis the great law of nature 
 that, without good deeds, all good affection 
 dies, and the heart becomes utterly desolate. . . 
 
 . . . "And what books, besides her Bible, 
 does Theodora read? History, to be sure, and 
 romances, and voyages and travels, and poetry. 
 Preaching and praying are not the whole of 
 religion: sermons, certainly, are very spiritual, 
 especially Jeremy Taylor's ; but so is Spenser's 
 ' Fairy Queen,' if we mistake not, and Milton's 
 * Paradise Lost.' This our Theodora knows, 
 nor fears to read them. . . . 
 
 " And what may be the amusements of our 
 Theodora? Whatever her own heart, thus 
 instructed and guarded, may desire. No nun 
 is she ; no veil hath she taken, but the veil 
 which nature weaves of mantling blushes. 
 
 . . . '' Now, were you to meet our Theodora
 
 24 ^h^ Ladies of 
 
 in company, ten to one, you would not know 
 it was she ; possibly you might not see any- 
 thing very beautiful about her ; for the beauty 
 we love strikes not by a sudden and single 
 blow; but is like the vernal sunshine, still 
 steal, steal, stealing through a dim, tender, 
 pensive sky, and even when it has reached its 
 brightest, tempered and subdued by a fleecy 
 veil of clouds." 
 
 Thus far the venerable Christopher; a true 
 poet in prose. Having likened Rhoda to Theo- 
 dora, it remains for you, reader, to become 
 acquainted with her by degrees, as Mrs. Althea 
 was about to do. 
 
 " Well," said she with a smile that had 
 much sweetness in it, "I dare say you are 
 wondering how my sister Kitty and I can set 
 any value on such a collection of old rubbish 
 as we are sm-rounded by; — but they are all 
 family relics, my dear ; all have their pedigree
 
 Bever Hollow, 25 
 
 — fi-om the ostricli-egg and cocoa-nuts mounted 
 in filigree, to the Noah's Ark in bugle-work, 
 and the landscape burnt on wood with a red- 
 hot poker. All have their story ; and, to Kitty 
 and me, theu' value. Why, our plate-chest 
 (not quite so considerable as yours at the Hall !) 
 contains simdry articles, the very names and 
 uses of which have become obsolete! What 
 think you of a silver posnet, to butter eggs? 
 or a plum-porridge ladle? or a broad-rimmed 
 silver plate for sugar with Rhenish wine? 
 Kitty and I have a sort of pride and fond 
 pleasure in the little worn-out nicknacks that 
 connect us with old times." 
 
 " I should have just the same," cried Ehoda. 
 " But, tell me ; are you not now in pain ? " 
 
 " No, I have slept it off, though my head 
 aches, and my forehead, if touched, feels very 
 tender. But the accident might have been far 
 worse. I had a providential escape. It was
 
 26 The Ladies of 
 
 full of mercy, as everything that befals us is. 
 But now, my dear, you had really better go 
 home, unless you will remain to drink tea with 
 Kitty and me. We have tea at six." 
 
 " And we dine at seven," said Rhoda, laugh- 
 ing ; " so I shall reach home in plenty of time 
 after giving up my charge of you to your sister, 
 if she is punctual." 
 
 " Oh yes, she will return before dusk, though 
 the days are fast shortening. And she will 
 coftie home with her pockets full of gingerbread 
 nuts, and her head full of news. We always 
 make a little festival of market-days, and have 
 a cosy fire, and something extra for the tea- 
 table, and shut ourselves up snug, and then she 
 tells and I hear all the news." 
 
 ^' How very cheerful you are ! " 
 
 " Where's the good of being othei-wise ? If 
 Religion is the champion under whose shield 
 the poor invalid is glad to take refuge. Amuse-
 
 Bever Hollow, 27 
 
 ment is no less the little foot-page who helps to 
 cany the invalid^s burthen. Una herself was 
 no better attended ! But I can't be cheerful 
 sometimes. Nature will extort tears and sighs. 
 Still, it is a duty to be cheerful when we can." 
 
 " When we can. And yet, do you know, Mrs. 
 Althea, that I, who have no pain to bear, and 
 whose little grievances I should be ashamed to 
 tell you lest you should laugh at them, — have 
 often great difficulty in being cheerful ; nay, I 
 sometimes cannot accomplish it." 
 
 " My dear, I am not at all surprised to hear 
 you say so." 
 
 " Indeed? I thought you would be very 
 much surprised." 
 
 " My dear young friend, I have been young 
 myself." 
 
 And she took Rhoda's hand with an air of 
 such great kindness, that tears started into the 
 young girl's eyes.
 
 28 The Ladies of 
 
 " Oh," said Ehoda, stooping to kiss that pale 
 hand, " how precious sympathy is ! " 
 
 " Why don't you show it more, then, to 
 others ? I have taken you by surprise ! You 
 were thinking of others sympathising with you ; 
 but, my dear, our Lord has said, 'it is more 
 blessed to give than to receive ; ' and if this 
 holds good with regard to the perishable things 
 of this life, how much more of those which, as 
 you truly say of sympathy, are really precious ? 
 If we had never felt the want of it ourselves, 
 we should not know from experience how largely 
 we should bestow it. We are expressly told 
 that even our Saviour was sent into the world 
 to know suffering, often unpitied and misunder- 
 stood, that He might be able by personal ex- 
 perience to succour others." 
 
 " Mrs. Althea ! you seem the very friend I 
 want ! Will you let me come and see you 
 often?"
 
 Bever Hollow, 29 
 
 " Mj dear, it will be a great pleasure to me. 
 Though I hope 1 know how to value in some 
 degree the blessings of seclusion, and in the 
 day of young health and imagination was even 
 very fond of it, a worn invalid may have too 
 much of it, in hours when she cannot even 
 think. The smallest change, the entrance of a 
 little child, of a merry schoolboy, of a homely 
 dependent, is then a boon : how much more 
 so the entrance of a feeling, cultivated com- 
 panion ! " 
 
 " Feeling, I can say I am, though very im- 
 perfectly cultivated," said Khoda. '' But our 
 ages are so different that I thought you might 
 not care to see me." 
 
 " Differences of taste and principle are more 
 important than differences of age," said Mrs. 
 Althea. " And even great differences of tastes, 
 characters, and habits may exist between com- 
 panions who get on very well together. How
 
 3© 'The Ladies of 
 
 many men choose wives who are their oppo- 
 sites ! And Kitty and I go on as harmoniously 
 as possible, though as different as black and 
 white. You and your sisters — " 
 
 " I have no sisters ! — " 
 
 *' You surprise me. I thought there had 
 been three Miss Hills of the Hall." 
 
 '■'' Two are my cousins, and I am the third. I 
 have lost my dear father and mother, and live 
 with my uncle, who is very kind to me, but to 
 whom I am of no importance or particular 
 interest. I have lived with him nearly two 
 years : my cousins are handsome, accomplished 
 girls ; but somehow we do not take much plea- 
 sure in one another. They are older than I 
 am, very high spirited, and fond of gaiety. At 
 first they were feeling and compassionate ; but 
 since I put off my black dress, they seem to 
 think I can have nothing to be sorry for any 
 longer — "
 
 Bever Hollow, 31 
 
 " M7 dear, that is always the case." 
 
 " And I don't know what to do, what to set 
 about. I was my dear mother's nurse, house- 
 keeper, amanuensis: now, I seem wanted by 
 nobody." 
 
 " I exactly understand your case. Say no 
 more of it : I will think it over." 
 
 " What did you find good for yourself when 
 you were orphaned ? " 
 
 " Many things. One of them was consider- 
 ing the pathway already traced by my own 
 dear mother's footsteps in the snow'' 
 
 Ehoda was going to speak, when looking up, 
 she saw Mrs. Kitty standing in the doorway, 
 in a man's hat and cravat, with a riding-habit 
 dragged over her arm. 
 
 " Servant, Miss," said Mrs. Kitty, touching 
 her hat, and advancing into the room. This 
 was meant for humour, for Mrs. Kitty was a 
 rough diamond.
 
 X 
 
 32 The Ladies of 
 
 " How have you got on, old lady ? " said she, 
 bluntly, but kindly, to Mrs. Althea. " Why, 1 
 thought you would have quite a spread for me ; 
 and there's neither tea-kettle nor fire. Never 
 mind. My horse has warmed me, and I've 
 warmed my horse." 
 
 "We have had a little accident in your 
 absence, Kitty," said Mrs. Althea. "I fell 
 down and stunned myself, while Jenny was 
 out ; and the butter-badger, who happened to 
 look in, fetched this kind young lady — Miss 
 Ehoda Hill— to my assistance." 
 
 " Stiiined? that sounds ugly! Let us see," 
 said Mrs. Kitty, scrutinizing her sister's forehead 
 with considerable anxiety. " Humph ! it does 
 not look very bad — " and turning away from 
 what did not seem a veiy serious matter at first 
 sight, she paid her respects with civility and cor- 
 diality to the young visitor, who related the 
 details of the accident more fully than Mrs.
 
 Bever Hollow, 33 
 
 Althea had done. This produced a proper 
 amount of interest in kind ]Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 ]\Ieanwhile, a hard-favoured, but not un- 
 pleasant-looking elderly woman, with her 
 bonnet on, entered with an armful of oak chips, 
 rammed them into the grate, put on a few coals 
 and cinders, kindled the chips with an old- 
 fashioned match, and made up a brisk fire in 
 three minutes. Next, she cleared a little round 
 table, spread it with a green baize, brought in 
 the tea-tray, toast, butter, cream, and spiced- 
 beef, and, finally, a steaming copper kettle. 
 
 " Here are some crumpets, Hannah," said 
 Mrs. Kitty, producing a paper bag ; " toast 
 them directly, butter them plentifully, and 
 bring them in, bm'ning hot, with another tea- 
 cup and saucer." 
 
 " Oh, I must not stay," said Rhoda. 
 
 "Why not?" said Mrs. Kitty. "The tea 
 will brew while I am pulling off my riding- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ^he Ladies of 
 
 habit ; and a cup of hot tea will send you out 
 warm into the evening mist." 
 
 " But we dine at seven, and no one knows 
 where I am." 
 
 " That's another matter," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Yes, go, my dear ; for you ought," said 
 Mr«. Althea. " I will not seek to detain you." 
 
 Rhoda, therefore, tied on her bonnet and 
 drew on her gloves, but yet lingered. 
 
 " You look so snug and comfortable," said 
 she, " that I hardly like going." 
 
 " Stay, then," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 "No; I must not." 
 
 " Come again, then, to-morrow — or, at any 
 rate, when you can," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " I certainly will. — There ! the button has 
 come off my glove." 
 
 " Sew it on, — here are needles and thread. 
 Well, Kitty, have you bought a pony?" 
 
 " No ; there wasn't one worth having ; but
 
 Bever Ho/Zoiv. 
 
 35 
 
 Farmer Brent says he knows of a nice like nag, 
 will suit me exactly ; so I am going to see it 
 to-morrow. Nothing doing among horses or 
 cattle to-day. Corn-market, also, very thinly 
 attended. Flour met a slow sale at a reduction 
 of a shilling a sack. The demand for oats and 
 oatmeal was limited." 
 
 " That would not affect yow." 
 
 "Xo; barley was more in my way. Barley, 
 both malting and grinding, very firm. There 
 has been a trifling reaction in the grain trade. 
 Must you go, Miss Hill? The crumpets will 
 be here directly." 
 
 " Thank you, I must not stay," said Rhoda. 
 " Good bye, Mrs. Althea — I will call to-morrow 
 to see how you are." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear — thank you for all 
 your kindness." 
 
 " Oh, don't mention it ! " 
 
 "Beans fully command late rates," cried 
 d2
 
 36 The Ladies of 
 
 JM[rs. Kitty. " Feeding beans realized a slight 
 advance. Well, if you will go, good-bye. The 
 acquaintance seems oddly commenced, but we 
 shall always be happy to see ye ! "
 
 Bever Hollow, 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Footsteps in the Snow. 
 
 Calm is all nature as a resting wheel ; 
 
 The kine are couched upon the dewy grass ; 
 
 The horse, alone, seen dimly as I pass. 
 
 Is cropping audibly his later meal. 
 
 Dark is the ground ; a slumber seems to steal 
 
 O'er vale and mountain and the starless sky. 
 
 Now, in this blank of things, a harmony 
 
 Home-felt and home-created, comes to heal. 
 
 nnHE evening liad closed in faster than Rhoda 
 -■- was aware of, and she walked briskly- 
 forward, in the face of the cold moist air, and 
 dim religious gloom of an autumnal evening, 
 conscious of a luxurious influence imparted 
 from without, and an unwonted glow of heat 
 within. 
 
 "Footsteps in the snow!" thought she.
 
 38 T^he Ladies of 
 
 " Ah ! here is one at last who seems to have 
 trodden the path I must tread, and who will 
 lead me along." 
 
 Meanwhile, her own footsteps over the spongy 
 heath were as light and springing as those of a 
 Highlander. Now and then, in her endeavours 
 to reach home more quickly by cutting across 
 the common than by pursuing the devious 
 sandy road, the uncertain light betrayed her 
 into stepping into a rabbit-hole or tuft of 
 prickly furze, or slipping down a bank of loose 
 sand. Now and then, sounds and glimpses of 
 animal life, such as had never been noted by 
 her in broad daylight, struck her eye and ear 
 with something wild, mysterious, and interest- 
 ing. Now it was a stoat or weasel crossing her 
 path ; now, a grey rabbit ; now, the squeak of 
 a shrew-mouse, the call of some unknown bird, 
 the rustle of some unseen wing. The short, 
 sharp bark of a distant dog, the whistle of his 
 master, the gradual forcing itself into light
 
 Bever Hollow, 39 
 
 of some evening star, the sudden "blazing up 
 of some remote bonfire of weeds, the kindling a 
 candle in some cottage across the heath with 
 door set ajar that its '• long levelled rule of 
 streaming light" might guide the goodman to 
 his home — each and all of these accessories 
 of an autumnal evening walk across a wild 
 common, had their intense charm for Rhoda. 
 
 The sound of a far-off clock striking seven 
 broke the spell, and made her the subject of 
 only a troubled joy during the remainder of 
 her walk. She feared her absence might be 
 taken amiss at home ; the darkness was closing 
 round her too fast ; her quick walk became 
 almost a run ; all pleasure in it was gone ; she 
 panted as she posted along under the mossy 
 park-palings ; and, when a man rode up to 
 her and said, •' Whither away so fast, Miss 
 Rhoda?" she almost cried out. 
 
 He lauo-hed a little, and she knew him for
 
 40 T^he Ladies of 
 
 Mr. George Mildmay. He only said, " I won't 
 detain you — I know you are late" — and rode 
 on. They were close to the lodge ; she ran up 
 the avenue ; saw the hall blazing with light, 
 hastily rang for admittance ; saw hot dishes on 
 their transit from the dining-room, and fear- 
 fully and apologetically put her flushed face 
 and long uncurled ringlets within the door 
 without going in. 
 
 '' Better late than never, Miss Ehoda," said 
 her good-natured uncle, who was the first to 
 see her. 
 
 "Why, Rhoda! where have you been?" 
 cried Anna, sharply. " What manners ! " 
 
 " I'll be down directly," said Ehoda, hur- 
 riedly; and catching up a wax-light from the 
 hall-table, she darted up the wide shallow stairs 
 and along the thickly-carpeted gallery to her 
 own snug room ; where, with the assistance of 
 a good-natured lady's-maid, she succeeded in
 
 Bever Hollow, 41 
 
 entering the dining-room in a blue silk dress, 
 and with smooth hair, just in time for the last 
 course. 
 
 *' A new style of head-dress, Ehoda, I 
 think," said Mr. Hill, who, nineteen times out 
 of twenty, would not have noticed it. 
 
 " She has only put her hair in bands because 
 it was out of curl, papa," said Anna. " And 
 they don't become her at all." 
 
 " Nothing is more stupid," said Charlotte, 
 " than for several members of a family to adopt 
 the same style of hair-dressing, or of anything 
 else. It looks as if they had but one idea. So, if 
 Rhoda is going to wear braids, I shall go into ring- 
 lets. What took place at the town-hall, papa?" 
 
 The details of a county meeting at For- 
 dington left Rhoda at liberty to get through 
 a competent share of stewed pears and custard, 
 sponge-cake and jelly; and though, as the 
 malicious wit said in the French coffee-house to 
 a decayed gentleman of quality, " A jelly is but
 
 42 The Ladies of 
 
 a poor sort of a dinner," young people have no 
 objection, on sundry occasions, to resign solids 
 for sweets. 
 
 ■ At length Mr. Hill found leisure to inquire, 
 " What kept you out so late, Ehoda?" 
 
 " I was walking on the common, uncle, when 
 a man ran up to me and told me a lady was in 
 a fit— Miss Hall of the Hill" 
 
 ''Miss Hall of the Hill!" exclaimed the 
 sisters simultaneously. 
 
 " What did you do, Rhoda ? What had you 
 to do with it?" 
 
 " The man — a kind of pedlar — said there 
 seemed to be no one in the house with her ; so 
 I followed him through the garden (such a 
 beautiful, old-fashioned garden, uncle !) into the 
 house, where the poor lady lay upon the sofa, 
 quite senseless. I did what I could for her; 
 and just as she was recovering, the servant-girl 
 returned, from some en-and apparently ; and 
 then the man went away."
 
 Bever Ho /low, 43 
 
 " The servant-girl ! So, then, they onlj keep 
 , one," said Anna. 
 
 " Report says thej are very proud, and very 
 poor," said Charlotte. 
 
 " Proud they are not, though rich they are 
 not," said Rhoda. 
 
 " You speak very confidently, I think, on a 
 very short acquaintance." said Anna. 
 
 " Because I saw so much more of them — at 
 least, of Mrs. Althea — than I should have done 
 in a common visit," said Rhoda. 
 
 " Mrs. Althea! who calls her Mrs. Althea?" 
 cried Anna. 
 
 *' Everybody ; at "least, all the poor people," 
 interposed Charlotte. *' Sometimes they say, 
 ' the ladies of Bever Hollow.' " 
 
 " Bever Hollow is not theirs now," 
 said Anna. " And where was the other 
 sister?" 
 
 *' Mrs. Kitty had gone to the horse-fair, to 
 buy a pony."
 
 44 ^h^ Ladies of 
 
 Mr. Hill, as well as his daughters, burst into 
 a hearty fit of laughter. 
 
 " And very capable she is of buying a good 
 one," cried Mr.Hill merrily, ' ' if report speak true." 
 
 *' Oh, they say she is a regular jockey," said 
 Charlotte. " Quite a man in petticoats. I'm 
 sure she looks so." 
 
 " Visited by the best county families, though," 
 said Anna. 
 
 " Yes, because their brother was high sheriff," 
 said Charlotte. 
 
 "Very ancient family, my dears," said Mr. 
 Hill. " Best blood in the county." 
 
 " That's why one would like to know them," 
 said Anna. " It was very awkward, Miss 
 Hill's being so ill when we first came, because 
 we couldn't call first." 
 
 " Miss Kitty might have called," said Char- 
 lotte. " But the excuse was, her sister's health 
 prevented her making any new acquaintance." 
 
 *' A very sufiicient one," said Mr. Hill.
 
 Bever Hollow. 45 
 
 *' Well, papa, people might as well be neigh- 
 bourly; and I see no right a couple of old 
 ladies have to give themselves airs, just because 
 thej can count up a squire Peregrine in the 
 family ever since Edward the Third. Pretexts 
 are often found for exclusiveness ; but I, for one, 
 shall not humour it or make it of any moment 
 to me. If they like to keep themselves to 
 themselves, let them." 
 
 " There is no harm in my going to see ^Ii's. 
 Althea^ however," said Khoda, " after what has 
 occurred. Is there, uncle?" 
 
 " Surely no," said Mr. Hill. 
 
 " No, I suppose not," said Anna reluctantly. 
 " It's as well not to be the only family kept out 
 of the house, though I have not the smallest 
 desire to enter it. So, as Rhoda has com- 
 menced the acquaintance so oddly, she may as 
 well take the trouble to keep it up ; saying all 
 sorts of proper things for us, of course. And 
 now, papa, we'll leave you to take your nap."
 
 46 T!he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Snug Fireside, 
 
 Nor unemployed her evenings passed away ; 
 Amusement closed, as business filled her day. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 "l /TRS. KITTY, after laying aside her habit 
 -^*-'- and putting on her easy shoes, found the 
 spiced beef so good and had so much news 
 to tell, that the evening meal was considerably 
 prolonged. She had been too lazy to fetch 
 a cap, and was sitting " in her hair," which 
 was rather rough, and played round a good- 
 humoured face. 
 
 There was a ring at the gate, a knock at 
 the house-door. 
 
 " Who can that be," says Mrs. Kitty, " at 
 this time of night?" For the old picture-
 
 Bever Hollow. 47 
 
 clock had just struck seven, and it was quite 
 
 dark, except for the bright firelight. 
 
 Mrs. Althea looked up and saw some one, 
 
 blythe, debonair, and six feet high, standing 
 
 in the doorway. 
 
 "Why, George!" cried she, "can that be you?" 
 " Just my very own self/' says George, 
 
 walking in and extending a hand to each lady 
 
 at once, sitting down at the same time before 
 
 the fire. 
 
 " This looks jolly," said he, " crumpets and 
 
 spiced beef ; what a lot you have been eating, 
 
 Mrs. Kitty!" 
 
 " How do you know that, Mr. George ? " 
 " Give me a cup of tea and I'll tell you." 
 " But all the strength of the tea is gone — 
 
 never mind, I'll make you some fresh." 
 
 " x\ye, do, there's a good soul. Well, Mrs. 
 
 Althea, how have you been getting along since 
 
 I saw you?" 
 
 " I have tripped and fallen against the fender.
 
 48 The Ladies of 
 
 George. Don't you see this great patch ? 
 Please, don't hurt me ! — it is going on very 
 well, I believe." 
 
 " Spliced up neatly enough, ma'am ; but 
 you've been within an inch of your life, I can 
 tell you. Our friend Kitty has strapped you 
 up with that skill for which she is eminently 
 distinguished." 
 
 " Quite out, George. It was done by 
 younger and whiter hands than Kitty's." 
 
 *' Can that be possible ?" cried he, with mock 
 incredulity. 
 
 " Don't say who it was," cried Mrs. Kitty, 
 " till he tells us how he came to know I had 
 eaten so much spiced beef." 
 
 " Mrs. Kitty, looks betray ! And you look 
 very high fed." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! I haven't altered since the 
 day before yesterday." 
 
 " You are becoming very rotund, ma'am — 
 quite of a full habit."
 
 Bever Hollow. 49 
 
 " I wish my habit were a little fuller," said 
 Mrs. Kitty. "I was thinking to-day whether 
 I could not have an extra breadth put in — " 
 
 " Aye, a breadth, or a plait, or a gosset, 
 or something; or 'twill be like a ripe goose- 
 berry bursting." 
 
 '* George ! don't be coarse ! " 
 " 'Tis you, my fair friend, I am afraid will 
 become so. Eeally, Miss Kitty, you must eat 
 less, drink less, sleep less, and study more, or 
 you will become quite obese." 
 
 ''Quite a beast!" cried she, wilfully mis- 
 understanding him. " Now you have done for 
 yourself, George ! Nothing shall you have 
 but the weakest of tea and the tou2;hest of 
 toast." 
 
 " This crumpet is hot, and steeped lusciously 
 in butter. The aroma of this tea is perfection." 
 "Well, I'm glad you are satisfied." 
 " And who was the young lady ?" 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 The Ladies of 
 
 " Aha ! don't think to carry your point quite 
 so quickly, with a few flattering words !" 
 
 "/flatter!" 
 • *' Yes, you." 
 ' "It was one of the Miss Wells." 
 
 "It was not." 
 
 " It was one of the Miss Ills." 
 
 "You are right, George," said Mrs. Althea. 
 " It was the youngest — the cousin — Miss 
 Rhoda Hill; and a very nice, pretty girl she 
 is. Tell me all you know about her." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Althea, not till I have heard a 
 little more about yourself. I have talked and 
 rattled with Mrs. Kitty ; and now for business." 
 
 After their little consultation, Mrs. Althea 
 revived the former subject by saying, " Come, 
 George, tell me all about the Hills." 
 
 " Why, ma'am, all I have to tell, you know 
 already. They are nobodies, have no antiquity 
 whatever, the father is a retired manufacturer.
 
 Bever Hollow. ^I 
 
 who on his wife's death (he always calls her 
 Mrs. Ill) came to settle at the All. And he's a 
 very good-hearted, unassuming man ; but his 
 daughters are assuming, and don't seem to 
 have any hearts — their father would say, ' any 
 arts.' " 
 
 " You told us there were three sisters." 
 " Well, how should I know '? I saw three 
 young ladies, two in blue muslin and one in 
 pink, and they called each other by their 
 Christian names, so of course I took them to 
 be sisters. They have had no illness to speak 
 of since they came, and the old gentleman 
 seems to prefer my esteemed partner to myself, 
 so that I have seen little of them, and that 
 little I have not liked." 
 
 " You are too fastidious, George," said Mrs. 
 
 Kitty, settling herself in her easy chair before 
 
 the fire, with her feet on the fender and 
 
 Chinese screen in her hand. '' Either of them 
 
 e2 
 
 BewW 

 
 52 The Ladies of 
 
 would be a very good match for you ; they are 
 handsome and — " 
 
 *' Thank you, Mrs. Kitty, but I prefer 
 choosing for myself." 
 
 '■'' And of course will choose the penniless 
 cousin." 
 
 " There is no penniless cousin in the case. 
 Miss Khoda, of whom I have seen little, and 
 who does not particularly interest me, is the 
 owner of a few thousand pounds, I believe." 
 
 " Oh, you have found out that much of a 
 young lady who does not interest you." 
 
 " No finding out in the case. Mr. Forest 
 mentioned it in my hearing, but not to me. So 
 your little romance falls to the ground. What 
 pretty slippers those are of yours, Mrs. Kitty! " 
 
 " George," said Mrs. Kitty, immediately pop- 
 ping her feet out of sight, '' you really are too 
 familiar sometimes. It was the fault of your, 
 father before you."
 
 Bever Hollow. 53 
 
 '• Ah, you never could see his merits. Fve 
 heard of your slipping out of the parlour on a 
 cold night, and sewing up a little l^it of every 
 one of the hutton-holes of his great-coat, 
 so as to make them just the least in the 
 world too small for the buttons to get through 
 them." 
 
 "• Ha, ha, ha— ho, ho I " laughed l^Irs. Kitty. 
 " Yes, I remember doing it very well. He was 
 a nice man too, George, but fitter for Althea 
 than me. I can't think what made him like 
 me so." 
 
 " Why, you are as bad as little Charity 
 Bohun," cried George, " who twists her head 
 this way and that, looking up through her long 
 ringlets, and says, affectedly enough for a grown 
 young lady : * I can't think what makes people 
 like me so.' " 
 
 Both of the ladies laughed heartily at his 
 mincing caricature; but Mrs. Althea said she
 
 54 ^/^^ Ladies of 
 
 did not think a daughter of Mr. Bohun's could 
 be affected. 
 
 " By the bye, George," said Mrs. Kitty, " the 
 bats come down our wide kitchen chimney and 
 gnaw the bacon. Can you undertake to kill 
 them ? " 
 
 "I'll fire a gun up the chimney, ma'am, if 
 you like." 
 
 " And bring down all the soot about our ears. 
 No, thank you, I don't admire that plan of 
 sweeping the chimney." 
 
 " Poor little wretches, it would be too hard 
 upon them. I got very fond of a female bat 
 once, and used to feed her upon cockchafers." 
 
 " That was humanity, I suppose." 
 
 " She used to part her hair all down her back 
 as you part yours down the front of your head, 
 leaving as neat a white line — dirizzitura the 
 Italians call it — as possible." 
 
 "George!"
 
 Bever Ho/low, ^^ 
 
 "Fact, I assiire you. This elegant little 
 creature, whose name was Xoctula, was as 
 cleanly as a lady, as playful as a kitten, and 
 lived respected and died regretted." 
 
 " Pray, George," said Mrs. Althea, *' how 
 come we to be honoured by this visit "? It is 
 not your day." 
 
 " Well, ma'am, it is a very good way some- 
 times for doctors to change their day, and take 
 their patients by surprise. Then there's no 
 time for getting themselves up with rouge and 
 furbelows, and what-d'ye-callums. You^ Mrs. 
 Althea, are not quite so trig as rusual." 
 
 " You ironical young gentleman ! Miss Ehoda 
 Hill and Jenny Plover slipped me into this 
 wrapper because my dress was wet through. 
 You are too young a doctor. Good, steady Mr. 
 Forest would never notice such things." 
 
 "Not notice! He notices everything, Mrs. 
 Althea."
 
 56 The Ladies of 
 
 "• He keeps his observations to himself tlien," 
 said Mrs. Althea, looking rather disconcerted. 
 
 " Never trust a quiet man, ma'am. It's we 
 talkers who are to be trusted. Now, if / were 
 to catch you boiling a pipkin over a parlour fire, 
 and popping it under the sofa directly you 
 heard me coming in, I should find some plan 
 of letting you know it before I went away." 
 
 " But I never do boil a pipkin on the parlour 
 fire." 
 
 " No, I know you don't, or the illustration 
 would not have been polite. Well, ladies, I 
 have to thank you for a most agreeable hour, 
 and am sorry I must go ; but — the way is long, 
 the wind is cold, though the party is neither 
 infirm nor old. Should you turn a little faintish, 
 Mrs. Althea, between this and bedtime, take a 
 dose of your cordial — " 
 
 " But I have just had one, George ! " 
 
 *«Hey?"
 
 Bever Hollow. 57 
 
 " You liave been a cordial to me, as you 
 always are." 
 
 " Thank 'e, Mrs. Althea, you are always kind, 
 though Kitty does snap me up. You shall see 
 the old gentleman next time." 
 
 " But I really like you the best, except when 
 I am seriously worse." 
 
 " He's ten times cleverer than me, ma'am, if 
 he a'n't so pleasant." 
 
 ^' Nay, he's very pleasant, George." 
 
 '' Oh well, there's no accounting for tastes. 
 Good night ! good night ! "
 
 T!he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mr. Georges Reveries. 
 
 The domestic affections make the bed of sickness almost a 
 luxury ; they impart a healthy atmosphere to home ; they 
 obscure from all men the miseries of life ; and they cast a halo 
 of cheerfulness around the dailj' toil whereby the poor man's 
 family is supported. — Glen's Prize Essay on the Influence of 
 the Mind over the Body. 
 
 "T OFTEN wonder," thinks the genial, 
 -*- heart-whole young man to himself, as he 
 rides homewards, " what sort of liking Mrs. 
 Althea had in early days for my poor father; 
 and what perversity induced him to prefer Mrs. 
 Kitty. Well, some people prefer Forest to me. 
 And Kitty has a nice smile, and her nose is 
 not bad, and her complexion may have been 
 pretty, and she has pretty hair even now, 
 though to-night it was all in a frizz ; but, she 
 never could have been a shrimp !
 
 Bever Hollow. 59 
 
 " Then, her manners. That woman under- 
 stands the points of a horse as well as I do, and 
 market prices far better, and what manures are 
 best for land, and all about drain-tiles, and 
 pasture, and crops, and drenches for horses, and 
 warm mashes for cows, and how to fatten 
 poultry, pigs, and calves ; but as for reading^ — 
 the county paper is enough for her, except a 
 few novels. Stay, I am forgetting that the 
 Bible is well studied by both. 
 
 " Mrs. Althea is, perhaps, a trifle too blue. 
 Yet no, I will not find a fault in the dear old 
 girl. Books are her ' animi pabulum,' and 
 ' animi medicina ' too ; they quiet her pulse, 
 amuse her in the absence of pain, and soothe 
 her under it. AYhat a fine thing a love of 
 reading is,' to be sure ! for one's friends, as well 
 as one's self. Here now, when Mrs. Althea 
 and I get together by ourselves, we can gossip 
 by the hour about ' Isaac Walton,' and ' Don 
 
 y
 
 6o The Ladies of 
 
 Quixote,' and the ^Yicar of Wakefield,' and 
 ' Boswell's Johnson,' and the * Mysteries of 
 Udolpho.' Many a book has she induced me 
 to read ; many a thought I owe to her ; many 
 a nice note has she written me. I fancy 
 neither of the good old girls like me the 
 worse, the one for having had a tendresse for 
 my pater, the other for my pater having had 
 a tenderness for her,'' 
 
 Mr. George's reflections then took a difierent 
 course, with which it is not our province to inter- 
 meddle. Let us hope he reached Fordington 
 safely, had a good supper, and an unbroken 
 night's rest. 
 
 Rhoda awoke in a very cheerful mood the 
 next morning, and, as bright as the October sun- 
 shine, was able to take unaiFected interest in her 
 uncle's remarks about his gun and shooting- 
 pony, in Anna's suspense about the arrival of 
 her new shawl, and Charlotte's anticipation of
 
 Bever Hollow, 6l 
 
 pleasure in making a round of morning visits. 
 As cheerfulness, when not ill-timed, is very 
 communicative, Ehoda's imparted itself to the 
 rest ; and she was even wished a pleasant walk 
 to the Hill-house Farm in a tone of cordialitj. 
 
 It was one of those lovely, fresh, genial 
 autumn days when even an old, worn heart 
 rejoices in its life; much more^ then, a young 
 one. As Ehoda pursued her way with a light, 
 springing step, first along a sandy lane and 
 then across the heath, there seemed some new 
 beauty in eveiything she looked upon ; especi- 
 ally in the wild flowers and herbs she often 
 stopped to gather and examine. Now, it was 
 the Artemisia, with its smooth green leaves and 
 whitish flowers ; now the bright yellow stars of 
 that village heal-all, the elecampane. The 
 crowded clusters of the golden-rod reminded 
 her that formerly this plant was highly valued 
 for its medicinal qualities, and brought from
 
 62 The Ladies of 
 
 foreign countries at great expense, till, being 
 discovered wild in our own woods, it fell into 
 contempt. " How often this is the case with us 
 in greater and better things ! " thought she. 
 *' We value a book, a picture, a cast, till a 
 cheap edition of the book comes out, the picture 
 is engraved and seen in the print-shops, the 
 cast is multiplied, and hawked all over the 
 country by little Italian boys ; then we call it 
 hackneyed, and contemn it, though its beauty 
 is the same." 
 
 Khoda thought Mrs. Althea was just the 
 person to be fond of wild flowers; and she 
 gathered for her a handful of what her cousins 
 would have called sad rubbish ; now stretching 
 across a little pool for " Job's tears," now 
 tugging at a pretty little spray of heath, and 
 at length, to her great joy, espying a treasure 
 that would crown all, because of its appropriate 
 name, '^ Althea officinalis." Perhaps it was
 
 Bever Hollow, 63 
 
 "because she hacl a bit of mugwort in her nose- 
 gay that she was so little tired by her walk, 
 for in olden times it was believed that travellers 
 and wayfarers who bore a branch of it were 
 unconscious of fatigue. 
 
 A change came over the spirit of her medi- 
 tations when she reached a little knoll, which 
 brought her immediately in sight of the Hill- 
 house, at the gate of which were an open 
 carriao^e and two saddle-horses. The friend- 
 ships of young people are often of as rapid 
 growth as Jonah's gourd ; and, when they find 
 they are not quite so vividly reciprocated, or 
 when any obstacle to their enjoyment inter- 
 venes, they are apt to be unreasonably disap- 
 pointed. Thus, Ehoda had been anticipating 
 a thousand pleasant things that were to pass 
 between her new friend and herself; but 
 directly she had reason to think her pre-engaged 
 by some other acquaintance her heart fell, and
 
 64 T^he Ladies of 
 
 she "began to fear she should only be in the 
 way. 
 
 Now, it would often happen that days and 
 weeks passed without the advent of a visitor to 
 enliven the seclusion of Mrs. Althea; and at 
 other times, some provoking chance would bring 
 several visitors together, each of whom would 
 have been acceptable separately, but whose 
 united effect produced fatigue approaching to 
 exhaustion. 
 
 Thus it happened that when Ehoda entered 
 Mrs. Althea's parlour, she found her surrounded 
 by the county member's lady and daughters, 
 while Mrs, Kitty, in her best green silk, which, 
 like all her dresses, was too tight and too short, 
 was entertaining Miss Roberta Hickards, whose 
 strong, loud voice had invariably the effect of 
 raising the pitch of all other voices but Mrs. 
 Althea's, as if in rivalry of her own. 
 
 Ehoda immediately felt herself one too many ;
 
 Bever Hollow, 65 
 
 and thougli Mrs. Kitty's reception was hearty, 
 and Mrs. Althea's eyes spoke the kindest 
 welcome, she sat on thorns throughout the 
 visit ; and at length, dismayed at Miss Eickards' 
 declaring she would dismiss her gToom and 
 horses to the stables and spend tlie day with 
 her old friends, she rose and took leave, 
 which she thought Mrs. Althea's jaded look 
 rendered but common humanity. She had 
 left her wild flowers on the hill side ; and when 
 she reached the spot on her return, they had 
 lost their beauty and freshness. She pursued 
 her way, feeling dull enough; and seeking 
 refuge in that poor consolation, '' Ah well, it is 
 my fate ! It is just so, always, with whatever 
 I set my heart upon." Her little efibrt at im- 
 proving an attractive acquaintance had fallen 
 quite flat : Mrs. Althea had led her to suppose 
 that she would be hailed like sunshine in her 
 shady room; whereas the case proved quite 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 The Ladies of 
 
 different, and she found her surrounded "by some 
 of the highest people in the neighbourhood, 
 who seemed to be on the footing of attached 
 friends, and to value the privilege of being 
 admitted. 
 
 All this while, poor Mrs. Althea was rather 
 piteously endeavouring to make her inflictions 
 blessings. Though the Harford family were 
 gone, Miss Eoberta Rickards remained, the 
 very tone of whose voice affected her nerves 
 and made her feel irritable. And be it known, 
 that an irritable temper was one of poor Mrs. 
 Althea' s characteristic blemishes, though curbed 
 by divine grace. But, were not all these small 
 trials allotted to her for correction of that very 
 infirmity ? If they had been increased tenfold, 
 should she dream of murmuring? Why, then, 
 when they were only minor grievances ? If they 
 troubled her to-day, she knew she should be 
 able to laugh at them to-morrow.
 
 Bever Hollow, 6? 
 
 So she fought her hard little battle with 
 herself, and conquered. How ? some invalid maj 
 perhaps ask. Well — she first darted up a little 
 ejaculation for self- victory ; then, while Miss 
 Roberta had retired to arrange her dress, she 
 lay quite prone on her sofa, for a little while, 
 practising that difficult art of not thinking. 
 Thirdly, she followed Sydney Smith's advice, 
 thought of something agreeable, and ate a 
 sweetmeat; so that when Miss Rickards re- 
 turned to the room, she was able to lie quietly 
 knitting and listening to her gossip with 
 Kitty about old friends and new acquaintance. 
 The waning light at length reminded the 
 fair equestrian that the days were shorten- 
 ing, and she had a long ride before her. 
 Mrs. Althea, for once, felt grateful for the short 
 days. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Kitty had sped the parting 
 guest, she hastily exchanged the green gown 
 f2
 
 68 T^he Ladies of 
 
 for the brown one, and was soon heard uttering 
 the voice of command in the dairy. Just as 
 the parlour was becoming dark, she briskly 
 re-entered it, gave the fire a rousing stir, which 
 suddenly produced -a cheerful blaze, snapped 
 the window-fastenings, dragged the curtains 
 across the windows with a jarring clang of the 
 rings along the rods, pulled her easy chair 
 forward, threw herself into it, and placed her 
 feet on the fender without any fear of George 
 Mildmay. 
 
 " Roberta's a famous companion," said she, 
 " and does you a world of good ; but she ter- 
 ribly cut up my afternoon's work. However, 
 things have turned out better than might have 
 been expected — six-and-twenty beautiful pats 
 of butter, the pans scalded, and the cream set 
 for the night. What do you think Eoberta 
 has brought you ? " 
 
 " I cannot imagine."
 
 Bever Hollow, 69 
 
 " A bottle of real Anstrucli Tokay, that 
 used to be worth a guinea a bottle ! sweet and 
 rich to the last degree ! that's what I call real 
 kindness; for she has only two left." 
 
 " It is ; very kind ; whether I like the Tokay 
 or not." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, you're sure to like it. Where's 
 my slate? The herb-man will be here to- 
 morrow." 
 
 And, setting to work with slate and slate- 
 pencil, Mrs. Kitty began to calculate how much 
 the herbalist owed them for lavender and rose- 
 mary. 
 
 " That's your perquisite, Althea : 'twas your 
 idea to grow them." 
 
 "No, Kitty, I really cannot take it, for you 
 have had all the trouble." 
 
 " 'Tis yours, I say, ma'am ! Haven't I the 
 honey ? " 
 
 " Oh, very well, I'll take it and be thankful.
 
 70 The Ladies of 
 
 Four pounds, seventeen shillings ! How mnch 
 good may be done with it, to be sure ! " 
 
 And the evening sped pleasantly with the 
 sisters, as they in imagination distributed the 
 profits of their herbs and their honey.
 
 Bever Hollow. 71 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 The Farm-vard Awake, 
 
 When strayed her lambs where goi-se and greenweed grow, 
 When rose her grass, in richer vales below, 
 When pleased she looked on all the smiUng land, 
 And viewed the hinds who toiled at her command, 
 WhUe Bridget churned the butter close at hand, 
 Geese, hens, and turkeys following where she went. 
 Then, dread o'ercame her — that her day was spent. 
 
 Ceabbe. 
 
 \T7HEN Rhoda next called at the Hill- 
 ' * house, she found the farmyard alive, and 
 as different from its former self as Sleeping 
 Beauty from Beauty awake. Labourers were 
 in the barn, the stable, the yard ; boys riding 
 cart-horses to water, geese noisily streaming 
 along the broad margin of turf, turkeys gob- 
 bling, hens and pigeons picking up grains, and 
 Mrs. Kitty trudging hither and thither on
 
 72 The Ladies of 
 
 pattens, much too occupied to be spoken to 
 except on business. 
 
 Rhoda found Mrs. Althea on her sofa, quite 
 as busy as Mrs. Kitty in the farmyard : cutting 
 out papers for patchwork, piecing fragments 
 into spensers and tippets, contriving list gloves, 
 and in various ways converting the useless into 
 the useful. 
 
 '^ Oh, how I should like to help you! " cried 
 Ehoda. "Can I?" 
 
 " Certainly. I have placed these pieces 
 to form a tippet : you can join them, and then 
 add a strong, clean, though not new lining." 
 
 *^ What nice list gloves you are making." 
 
 *' I hope to give them to Mr. Bohun, when 
 he comes to read prayers, this evening. He is 
 kind enough always to come to me on Wed- 
 nesdays." 
 
 " Is he your clergyman? " 
 
 " Yes, and a very good one."
 
 Bever Hollow, 73 
 
 " We have a very poor one at Fordington 
 church ; but my uncle likes him pretty well. 
 I should like to hear your Mr. Bohun." 
 
 " Will you join us this evening ? " 
 
 " I fear I cannot — " 
 
 " Do not think of it, then. There are many 
 things we should like to do, but cannot." 
 
 *' Ah ! how many ! " 
 
 " For instance, I should like a walk over 
 the heath, to admire the gorse and furze, and to 
 look at the cricketers, and talk to the cottagers 
 who live around it, — hear who is well and who 
 is ill, how such a girl likes her place, and how 
 such a boy gets on at sea, — know what they 
 want and what they are doing, hoping, and 
 fearing. If I could not help them much with 
 money, I might at least cheer them by my 
 sympathy." 
 
 " Something like that, I might do." 
 
 " Certainly you might." 
 
 " The worst is, I feel so awkward — "
 
 74 ^he Ladies of 
 
 *' You would soon get over that." 
 
 Here Mrs. Kitty entered, looking very im- 
 ^^t>ttant, and carrying a small tray, 'on which 
 were a cobwebbed bottle, a corkscrew, a wine- 
 glass, and a thin slice of crisp toast in an old- 
 fashioned plate of rare china, with gold, crimped 
 edges. Having set down her tray, she greeted 
 Rhoda, and then — 
 
 " Now, Althea," said she, '' you are going to 
 have a glass of Tokay." 
 
 "No, I am not, Kitty, unless you have one too." 
 
 " Nonsense ; I am not going to touch it. I 
 never care about such things." 
 
 " Nor do I." 
 
 "But it will strengthen you, and do you 
 good. Come, don't be childish, but take the 
 good things that come to your share." 
 
 "Well, you know I really am not fond of 
 wine, and don't require it ; but this was sent 
 so kindly — stop, that's enough ! only half a 
 glass : remember, it is a liqueur."
 
 Bever Hollow, y^ 
 
 " Well, and is not this a liqueur-glass ? " 
 said Mrs. Kitty, examining the beverage with 
 the air of a connoisseur. " Now then, madam. 
 Well, what do you think of it ? " 
 
 " Do you call this rich and sweet to the last 
 degree ? " said !Mrs. Althea, after a cautious 
 sip. 
 
 '' Why, don't ^ow.?" 
 
 '' Taste it, Kitty." 
 
 "What's the matter with it?" said Mrs. 
 Kitty, looking half affronted as she took the 
 glass. Then, after swallowing a little of its 
 contents, she made a horribly wry face. 
 
 " Whatever can this be ? " cried she. 
 
 " Not Tokay, I presume," said Mrs. Althea, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Why, it's worse than the sourest small 
 beer ! One of Koberta's blunders," said Mrs. 
 Kitty. 
 
 " Well, I am glad you admit it to be one,
 
 76 T^he Ladies of 
 
 instead of insisting on my drinking it," said 
 Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " But, whatever could she have been think- 
 ing of? " 
 
 " Of doing a kind thing, we may be quite 
 sure ; so do not let us say anything about it." 
 
 *' I certainly shall name it to her the very 
 first opportunity ; or she will send some of the 
 stuff to another invalid." 
 
 " She has but two bottles left, and I don't 
 think any one will drink enough to be hurtful." 
 
 Mrs. Kitty sat down and enjoyed a hearty 
 laugh. " She's a good creature, too," said she ; 
 '-'- one of the best creatures in the world, though 
 eccentric. But fie on it! here comes the 
 farrier; I must run off to say a word to him, 
 for I think Dobbin's malingering." 
 
 And she capered away as lightly as a girl of 
 sixteen. 
 
 "What is malingering?" said E,lioda«
 
 Bever Hollow, jj 
 
 " Shamming ill to escape work," said Mrs. 
 A-lthea, laughing. 
 
 ''How active Mrs. Kitty is!" said Rhoda, 
 with wonder rather than admiration. 
 
 " Ah, Kitty was young and very pretty 
 once," said Mrs. Althea; " and when she darts 
 about the house in that youthful way, it puts 
 me so in mind of old times that I am ready to 
 fancy her young and pretty still. But she has 
 gone through a great deal. And now she kills 
 useless regrets by being incessantly and bene- 
 ficially employed. Few know how much there 
 is in Kitty, though she is universally liked and 
 respected. Did you ever see Bever Hollow? " 
 
 ''No! what's that?" said Bhoda, surprised 
 at what seemed an abrupt transition. 
 
 " The place where we were born and brought 
 up — an old manor-house, partly like what the 
 Scotch borderers used to call a peel: that is, 
 a tower of defence. It was not in a good
 
 78 T^he Ladies of 
 
 defensive position, however, though surronnded 
 by a moat. A kind of embattled farm-house 
 had been built on to the tower ; chiefly of grey 
 stone, hard as adamant, but partly of that old, 
 time-worn red brick, discoloured and faded in 
 course of years, which at length becomes 
 mottled with grey, green, white, black, yellow, 
 every colour, in short, except red — and is then 
 the most picturesque of building materials, 
 especially when crumbled here and there by the 
 tooth of time, and overgrown with moss, ivy, 
 snap-dragon, wall-flower, and stone-crop. So it 
 is, or was, with Bever Hollow ; Vieio Hollow 
 my father loved to call it, and truly there was 
 a lovely view from it ; hence its name — Bever, 
 evidently corrupted from Beau- voir." 
 
 '' How sorry you must have been to leave 
 such a place." 
 
 " No, my love ; I was very glad." 
 
 "Glad! why?"
 
 Bever Hollow, 79 
 
 " Ah, it's a sad story," said Mrs. Althea, with 
 a tear in- her eye. 
 
 " Oh, then I will not ask," said Rhoda, who 
 was just of the age to love sad stories. 
 
 " There is no reason, my dear, why you 
 shauld not know. We were of ancient, but 
 very decayed gentility — my father loved to feel 
 himself connected with the past, and to keep up 
 everything he could that belonged to it. This 
 led, perhaps, to some absurdities, forgiven by 
 the good-natured, and laughed at by the un- 
 kind. What was worse, it led him into many 
 extravagancies. He loved my brother Peregrine 
 to idolatry, as his only son, and the repre- 
 sentative of his house : to put him in that 
 position, and enable him to make that figure 
 which he desired, he pinched himself and us. 
 My mother, who had a large, comprehensiv^e 
 mind, often warned him he would niin his 
 darling son ; and in the end he did. Peregrine
 
 8o The Ladies of 
 
 was, to use an old phrase, ' lovely in counte- 
 nance, and of most sweet conditions.' His 
 natural disposition was affectionate and amiable, 
 but it gradually became spoilt by indulgence. 
 As a little fellow, he was extraordinarily generous 
 and self-denying, and would accumulate his 
 pocket-money to relieve a poor person, or give 
 a present to one of us ; but too soon he became 
 prodigal in his own pleasures, and destitute of 
 means to contribute to those of others. Losing 
 the means, he lost the inclination, as he became 
 more and more selfish. His college bills nearly 
 reduced us to penury, but he did not distinguish 
 himself. On the contrary, he was the com- 
 panion of those who only cared for boating, 
 riding, driving, hunting, and drinking; who 
 were shunned by the truly gTeat and good. My 
 mother, whose letters and universal conduct to 
 him would have redeemed him if anything 
 could, was at length reduced to despair. She
 
 Bever Hollow. 8i 
 
 then applied herself to the practice of an almost 
 niggardly economy, to pay our necessary ex- 
 penses. We kept no company ; onr lives were 
 considered intolerably dull by our acquaintance, 
 but they were not, though they were very 
 unhappy. Sometimes Kitty suffered most, 
 sometimes I did ; but my mother most of all." 
 
 " What a sad stoiy." 
 
 " She sickened of her fatal illness, which 
 lasted ten years. Kitty and I might have 
 married, my love, during that time, but we 
 would not. Indeed, — but no; there's no need 
 to say that. Meantime, Peregrine married a.n 
 heiress, and might have begun a better course, 
 if he had had resolution : in fact, my mother's 
 death-bed entreaties made him attempt it, but 
 not for long. He stood for the county, but was 
 ousted. My father took his defeat greatly to 
 heart, more than the expense, more than even 
 my mother's death. However, he was after- 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 82 The Ladies of 
 
 wards gratified by my brother's being county 
 sheriff. As Peregrine's manners were very 
 captivating, he was almost as popular as George 
 Evelyn of Wotton. But his wife 'died ; then 
 his only son ; he drowned care by returning to 
 his old courses, and broke his neck by riding 
 into a lime-pit, coming home from a convivial 
 party." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Althea, don't say any more ! — 
 you are agitating yourself too much." 
 
 '* My dear, there is little more to tell 
 
 My father's faculties received a shock which 
 they never recovered ; he became quite unfit to 
 manage his affairs, and yet did not like to give 
 them up to us, so that they grew more and 
 more involved. At length, after languishing 
 through years of illness, and sorrow for his son, 
 my poor father died. Kitty and I were no 
 longer young; we feared to find ourselves 
 destitute; however, by giving up the house,
 
 Bever Hollow, 83 
 
 selling a few good pictures and some massy 
 old plate, we proved not only able to pay 
 all, but possessed of a small sum of ready 
 money." 
 
 '' How people must have respected you !" 
 *' My love, their kindness far exceeded our 
 desert. After revolving the few plans of life 
 remaining to us, we embarked our all in this 
 farm, and have lived on it ever since." 
 "It was a hazardous undertaking." 
 " It was. However, we have done well ; 
 chiefly through Kitty's energy. She has ma- 
 naged the farm admirably. Many voices warned 
 us against the experiment, but we stuffed our 
 ears with cotton, like the Princess Parizade, 
 and did not mind what they said. My dear, I 
 begin to feel I have talked rather too much. 
 Will you read to me ? George Withers' poems 
 are on the table. There are some lines of his 
 I particularly admire — 
 g2
 
 84 The Ladies of 
 
 ' My cares are blessed thistles unto me, 
 Which wholesome axe, although they bitter be, 
 And though their leaves with pricks are overgrown 
 (Which pain me), yet their flowers are full of down.' " 
 
 As Khoda rose for the book, her eye glanced 
 at one or two rather rueful portraits suspended 
 between the bookcases. 
 
 "Are you looking for Peregrine?" said 
 Mrs. Althea. " Ah, you won't find him there. 
 That young gentleman fondling a dog, and 
 dressed in a scarlet gown with that extra- 
 ordinary piece of green drapery appended to it, 
 is my uncle Peregrine. That lady in sky-blue 
 and yellow, with white beads in her hair, is not 
 my mother, but her grandmother. Peregrine 
 is among the miniatures." 
 
 " He has a very engaging face," said Ehoda, 
 when she had found his likeness. 
 
 " Ah, he was engaging," said Mrs. Althea, 
 sighing. " And there's Kitty, though I dare 
 say you hardly recognise her."
 
 Bever Holhw, 85 
 
 It was a good-humoured, blooming, Hebe 
 face ; though under the disadvantage of a dre.ss 
 out of date. 
 
 " This is you, I am sure, Mrs. Althea !" 
 cried Ehoda, looking complacently at a very 
 pleasant portrait. 
 
 '■''Me! Oh, no, my dear I My great-aunt 
 Bridget."
 
 86 T^he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The De Bones, 
 
 A good man was there of religion, 
 
 That was a pauvre parson of a town. 
 
 But rich he was in holy thought and work ! 
 
 He also was a learned man, a clerc 
 
 That Christ his gospel truelie did preach ; 
 
 His parishioners devoutly he did teach. 
 
 Benign he was, and wondrous diligent, 
 
 And in adversity full patient. 
 
 Wide was his parish — the houses far asunder ; 
 
 But these he shunned not, nor for rain nor thunder, 
 
 In sickness or in trouble, to visite. 
 
 The farthest in his parish, great and litt'. 
 
 Upon his feet ; and in his hand a staff, 
 
 A noble example to his sheep he gaff ! 
 
 Chaucer. Canterbury Tales, 
 
 OF the Reverend Launcelot Bohun, curate 
 of CoUington, it might almost literally be 
 said — 
 
 A man he was to all the country dear. 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
 
 Bever Hollow, 87 
 
 For forty, read eighty. On this stipend, he, 
 the descendant of that Hugh Bohun whom good 
 old Sir Eichard Baker calls Hugh De Bones, 
 had religiously and respectably reared ten 
 thriving children; and not on potatoes and 
 apple-dumplings. For, did he not kill his own 
 mutton, and salt his own pork, and breed his 
 own poultry, and catch his own trout, and gi'ind 
 his own corn, and grow his own leeks, parsnips, 
 turnips, carrots, and pot-herbs ; besides killing 
 a cow every Christmas? So that, though 
 potatoes and apple-dumplings were neither 
 unknown nor despised by the young De Bones, 
 these wholesome, homely dishes had not to 
 withstand alone the hungry onslaught of ten 
 young healthy appetites. Besides, though the 
 Reverend Launcelot did not shoot his own 
 game, many a thumping basket of hares, 
 pheasants, and, now and then, a quarter of doe- 
 venison, found their way to him from the
 
 88 The Ladies of 
 
 Squire, accompanied, about Christmas-tide, by 
 a drum of figs, a box of raisins, a loaf of sugar, 
 and half-a-dozen pounds of tea, from the 
 Squire's lady. And though it is more blessed 
 to give than to receive, yet lie — who never spent 
 an idle moment or an idle penny, who never 
 sent a poor vagrant from his door without a 
 halfpenny and a slice of bread, and who, like 
 Eobert Walker, dressed all his fresh meat for 
 the week on the Sabbath, that as many of 
 those who came from afar as chose to partake of 
 his bounty, might dine in his kitchen on the 
 broth — deserved to enjoy, and did enjoy both 
 sorts of blessedness. As there are always those 
 who will find a sable lining to the purest silver 
 cloud and turn it wrong side outwards, some 
 one was actually heard to say that Mr. Bohun, 
 for as good as he seemed, gave Sunday dinner- 
 parties. " Yes, madam," replied one of the 
 company (Mr. Forest, in fact), ''but they are
 
 Bever Hollow. 89 
 
 such parties as our Kedeemer commanded us to 
 assemble when we make a feast; — the blind, 
 the maimed, the halt; of whom He said: — 
 ' they cannot recompense thee, but thou shalt 
 be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.' " 
 
 Now, Mr. Bohun, faring so sumptuously 
 every day, could not be expected to afford very 
 extravagant tailors' bills. Indeed, all his habili- 
 ments, save one sacred suit for Sundays, were of 
 home-manufacture, and, in part, the production 
 of his own herds and flocks. For the hide of 
 the Christmas cow was tanned into leather for 
 the shoes of all his house, and the good man 
 might commonly be seen in a parson's grey suit 
 of his wife's tailoring, a shirt of his daughters' 
 making, stockings of his daughters' knitting, 
 and a straw hat of his daughters' plaiting. 
 
 If he were not much indebted to art for 
 his appearance (though, in truth, everything 
 became him), he was under considerable obli-
 
 90 'The Ladies of 
 
 gations to nature. A iiner-made person of 
 
 nobler bearing did not exist in the country. 
 
 He stepped like a king, and carried his 
 
 head like one ; he might have sat, any day, 
 
 for the model of King David or King Solomon. 
 
 His dark, keen eye was both piercing and 
 
 pleasant, his nose aquiline, his hair coal-black, 
 
 his complexion nut-brown and healthy ; his 
 
 smile, 
 
 n lampeggiar dell' angelico riso, 
 
 like sudden sunlight over a beautiful country ; 
 his laugh, musical and mirthful ; his frown, 
 awful ; his voice a perfect instrument, managed 
 with excellent skill. 
 
 This was the man who married Pamela 
 Watts without a halfpenny, and brought her 
 merrily home to the parsonage-house, of which 
 the incumbent, being non-resident, allowed 
 him the gratuitous occupation. It was a 
 long, low, one-storied house, of a faded red
 
 Bever Hollow, 91 
 
 brick, with stone dressings, and with large 
 attic-windows in the deep, many-gabled, 
 golden-mossed roof. Birds built under the 
 eaves; a pear-tree, nailed against the wall, 
 covered one end of the house ; a vine, that 
 produced excellent black grapes, ran over the 
 front. The curate was famous for his grape 
 and elderberry wine. Beyond this, his cellar 
 boasted no fermented liquors, for he and his 
 family were water-drinkers. Over his hos- 
 pitable hearth was graven — 
 
 " Eat the fat and drink the sweet, and send 
 portions unto them for whom nothing is 
 prepared." 
 
 Over his stable, " Where no cattle are, the 
 crib is clean; but much increase is by the 
 strength of the ox." Over the shed that 
 covered his plough and harrow, "He that 
 tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread." 
 On the wall facing his servant's bed, "Love
 
 92 The Ladies of 
 
 not sleep, lest thou come to poverty." Over 
 the wood-house, " Where no wood is, the fire 
 goeth out ; so where there is no talebearer, the 
 strife ceaseth." In the dairy, " Surely the 
 churning of milk bringeth forth butter ; so the 
 forcing of wrath bringeth forth strife." On his 
 cellar door, " Give strong drink to him that is 
 ready to perish ; and wine unto those that be 
 of heavy hearts." And in his wife^s closet, 
 Solomon's virtuous woman at full length. 
 
 Mr. Bohun, on baptising his fourth son, was 
 heard to say that, had he known he was going 
 to have so many, he would have named them 
 after the four Evangelists. However, he at 
 length numbered six, and their profane, not 
 sacred names seemed taken out of the History of 
 England. They were Fulk, Geoffrey, Hugh, 
 Kalph, Humphrey, and Eoger. The girls were 
 Pamela, Prudence, Patience, and Charity. These 
 three last names their mother and brothers
 
 Bever Hollow. 93 
 
 abridged, much against Mr. Boliun's will, 
 into Prue, Patty, and Cherry. 
 
 It was this good man whom Mrs. Althea 
 was expecting to see, on hearing the house-bell 
 ring, a little before six on Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 Instead of whom, she beheld a lad or strip- 
 ling of blooming, beautiful face and most sweet 
 and honest expression, fit to remind one of 
 the youngest son of Jesse before the Lord 
 took him from the sheep-folds to rule his 
 people Israel. He had a little rushen basket in 
 his hand containing a trout about half a yard long. 
 
 " Why,Fulk,isityou?" cried Mrs. Althea. " I 
 have not seen you, my dear boy, this many a day." 
 
 " More's my loss," said Fulk, kissing her; 
 *' I thought I would not come empty-handed. I 
 said to mammy, ' I'll catch a trout;' and I did. 
 Isn't he a regular beauty ? This old fellow has 
 wasted me many a half-hour ; but I don't 
 count them wasted now I have him at last. 
 He lived in a little cave the size of my hat,
 
 94- ^he Ladies of 
 
 under an old grey oak that overhangs the 
 stream, just like the oak that gave way under 
 poor Ophelia and toppled her into the water. 
 There lived my gentleman; I could see him, 
 and I fancy he could see me, for he was as shy 
 of me as possible. I kept tempting him and 
 coaxing him with everything that was good, 
 and flattering him with, ' Sir, you're a royal 
 dish — you are intended for Mrs. Althea;' 
 but no, he was as deep as the sea ! However, 
 the shyest fish are caught at last." 
 
 " He really is a beauty, Fulk ! " 
 
 " Isn't he ? I'll go and lay him on the 
 larder-stones, and be back directly." 
 
 Off he went ; and when he returned, Mrs. 
 Althea said with a smile, " You know your 
 way about the premises." 
 
 " Haven't I a right to ? How often, when I 
 was that high, have I trotted after you and 
 Mrs. Kitty to larder, safe, and dairy ! Ah, and 
 slept in a nice little crib in your bedroom, too.
 
 Bever Hollow. 95 
 
 Mrs. Althea ! Well, I glanced just now into 
 the dairy, and there's Mrs. Kitty skimming the 
 cream off a dozen leads, so we're safe for the 
 next half-hour, are not we?" 
 
 "Safe, you funny boy, yes!" said Mrs. 
 Althea, amused at his quick, eager look. 
 
 " Then I'll seize the occasion," said he, 
 shutting the door alertly, and then throwing 
 himself on the rug, with his arm on her sofa. 
 " I have some very serious things to talk to 
 you about, Mrs. Althea." 
 
 " Have you ? Then I to hear them will 
 seriously incline." 
 
 " That's just what I want. You will advise 
 me, help me, or console me. My father wants 
 me to go to St. Bees. But I don't like the 
 thought of St. Bees ; I can't bear St. Bees." 
 
 " How few sons, Fulk, can bear what their 
 fathers propose for them ! " 
 
 " Ah, but this is not in the spirit of opposi-
 
 g6 The Ladies of 
 
 tion — how should it be ? But it will affect my 
 whole future life. I shall never be looked upon 
 as if I had graduated at Oxford or Cambridge. 
 My father himself is an Oxford man, and I 
 want to tread in the footsteps of my father." 
 
 " You and I know very well, Fulk, what 
 must be his only motive for not sending you 
 there — necessity.' ' 
 
 " Well, but if I were to get a scholarship that 
 led to a fellowship, as I'm pretty sure I should 
 — for oh, I would work so hard! — I'd rather be 
 a doorkeeper in the — I'd rather be a servitor, or 
 a commoner, or a janitor in the halls of Oxford, 
 than dwell in the tents of St. Bees !" 
 
 '-' I know you think you would, though you 
 are talking at random, and though you would 
 be unable to help feeling the servile position 
 you are contemplating very uncomfortable." 
 
 " Not a bit ! some of our greatest men have 
 gone through their studies that way! I
 
 Bever Hollow, 97 
 
 shouldn't mind blacking the shoes of another 
 man, or brushing his coat, in the least! I 
 should make a pleasantry of it. Besides, my 
 godfather, the Squire, would, I fancy, give me 
 a lift if he were asked." 
 
 " Would you like to ask him?" 
 
 *' Why, yes, I should not so very much mind 
 it, I think. But, might not dear daddy?" 
 
 *' Nay, Fulk! how can you expect your 
 father to ask a favour he does not wish for, of 
 a person you hesitate to ask a favour you do 
 wish for?" 
 
 "Hum!" 
 
 " Have you asked your father to ask?" 
 
 *' No ; I wish you would, Mrs. Althea." 
 
 " I should hardly dare to propose his altering 
 any scheme for the welfare of his children that 
 his excellent judgment may have formed." 
 
 "Here he is!" cried Fulk, leaping up and 
 looking from the window. "No, he isn't." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 The Ladies of 
 
 And, returning to his place, ^' Come," said he, 
 '' we will dismiss trouble number one for number 
 two. I will say no more just now about 
 St. Bees. The next thing that disturbs me ia 
 about Pamela." 
 
 " Pamela ! She is not ill, I hope ! " 
 
 " Well, I don't know what to think of it. 
 She mopes and droops a good deal. My mother 
 is giving her bark, but I don't think that's any 
 use. She wants change." 
 
 " This would be a poor change from your 
 merry house, or I would say Let her come 
 here." 
 
 " Oh, it would not be a poor change at all, 
 Mrs. Althea! In the first place, you know, 
 there would be change of scene and change of 
 faces ; then, you have far more society than we 
 have." 
 
 *' Why, Fulk! sometimes no one comes near 
 us for weeks!"
 
 Bever Hollow, 99 
 
 " Well, then, there are yourselves, ma'am ; 
 and you know how infatuated we are with you 
 and 3Ii's. Kitty. We think there's no finer 
 company. We tn\j the maid that waits on 
 you at table. We know beforehand we shall 
 like everything you say, and, when said, we 
 treasure it and repeat it. So there's for you. 
 Besides, to any one who loves books, what 
 treasures there are in this room ! Turn Pamela 
 or me into it, we could be content to be snowed 
 up for weeks. Then there are your picture- 
 books, and your curiosity-drawers, and your old 
 stories when you sit by the fire." 
 
 " Well, Fulk, if any or all of these things 
 have any attraction for Pamela, she shall cer- 
 tainly come, if yom- father and mother will 
 let her." 
 
 " Thank you, ^L'S. Althea, Then there's 
 Hugh." 
 
 " Well, what is the matter with Hugh ?" 
 h2
 
 1 oo The Ladies of 
 
 " He has a stye in Ills eye." 
 
 " I should think," said Mrs. Althea, laugh- 
 ing, *' a chemist's apprentice might cure that for 
 himself." 
 
 " Why, I should have thought so too," said 
 Fulk, joining in the laugh; "however, it is 
 very aggravating to poor Hugh, because he has 
 borrowed ' Ivanhoe ' and can't read one word of 
 it. Moreover, he says the customers laugh at 
 him ; and the draught in the shop makes it 
 worse." 
 
 " Tell him to foment it well with warm 
 water and a soft handkerchief ; and when it is 
 dispersed, to keep it from returning by using 
 cold salt and water continually." 
 
 " Thank you ! I was sure you knew of some- 
 thing. Poor Hugh! he says he'd rather be 
 loblolly-boy to George Mildmay than ap- 
 prentice to old Binkes." 
 
 " Ambition again. Oh you boys, you boys ! "
 
 Bever Hollow, loi 
 
 " Nay, dear Mrs. Althea, is there any harm 
 in a little ambition?" 
 
 " There is great harm, Fulk, in discontent.'* 
 
 *' Ah, we're not come to that yet !" 
 
 "How is Geoffrey?" 
 
 '* No discontent in that quarter, Mrs. Althea. 
 Busy as a bee, and merry as a cricket. He 
 says, if he had only a little more time to write 
 verses, he wouldn't mind being an usher at 
 a grammar-school all his life J" 
 
 "Good Geoffrey!" 
 
 " Well, I think that's being a little too un- 
 ambitious. Besides, he could never marry." 
 
 " Could you, if you had only a fellowship?" 
 
 " Well, that's a con-si-de-ra-tion," said Fulk, 
 looking very grave about it ; so grave that Mrs. 
 Althea smiled. 
 
 " Time enough before that need trouble you," 
 said she. 
 
 " I don't know that," said Fulk, shaking his
 
 102 'The Ladies of 
 
 head. " There's a' young lady somewhere about 
 here, pretty enough to be queen of the fairies — 
 however, I won't tell you about that, for you 
 will only laugh at me." 
 
 " Perhaps I might take that liberty. Blue- 
 eyed, is she, Fulk, with long, nut-brown, 
 curling hair ? " 
 
 ''Yes! Who ^5 she? Do say." 
 
 But Mrs. Althea only laughed, and said, 
 "How can I tell?" 
 
 " It was only fancy's sketch, then ?" said Fulk, 
 disappointed. "But here is daddy, this time." 
 
 "Hallo, Fulk! you here?" said his cheerful 
 father, coming in with a great folio under his 
 arm, which he unceremoniously relieved himself 
 of by handing it to his son. Having greeted 
 Mrs. Althea in the most cordial manner, he 
 stood before the fire, face to face with Fulk, 
 surveying him with no small contentation. 
 
 " He believes he knows everything in that
 
 Bever Hollow, 103 
 
 boy's heart, . . . and yet he does not," thought 
 Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Fulk, your hair wants cutting," said Mr. 
 Bohun, suddenly. '' Eemember Absalom. Your 
 locks are quite bushy." 
 
 " Yes, father, but my mother really shears 
 us too close now; so I thought I would give 
 Tresham a turn the next time I went into town, 
 hey, father?" 
 
 " Tresham a turn, indeed!" said Mr. Bohun, 
 with infinite contempt; "Tresham will be 
 immensely obliged to you for your patronage. 
 Sixpence a quarter: for I suppose you won't 
 want trimming oftener than once in three 
 months — Absalom only polled his hair once 
 a year." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, it won't ruin you, 
 father." 
 
 " No, my boy ; only when it comes to be 
 multiplied by , but give Tresham a benefit,
 
 1 04 The Ladies of 
 
 by all means if jou will ; only don't get buying 
 perfumery." 
 
 " Certainly not — thank you, papa — father, I 
 mean." 
 
 " We are growing very manly, now," said 
 Mr. Bohun, smiling at Mrs. Althea. "And 
 this young fellow, who cannot submit his head 
 to the maternal scissars, thinks he could be a 
 sizar at Oxford. But what make you from 
 Wittemburg, Fulk?" 
 
 " Father," said the lad, very ingenuously, ** I 
 came over here to talk about St. Bees with Mrs. 
 Althea, and see if she could not come over to 
 my way of thinking, or else convert me to hers." 
 
 '■'• That's my honest boy. Talk it over, and 
 welcome ; but consider Oxford quite out of your 
 reach." 
 
 "Why, father? why?" 
 
 "Why, my boy? Because of pounds shil- 
 lings and pence."
 
 Bever Hollow, 105 
 
 "Father," said Fulk, "I have seen the 
 college bills of Tom Slater, who was a sizar of 
 St. John's, and I saw with my own eyes that 
 the necessary expenses need not be more than 
 12Z. or 15?. a year." 
 
 ** Pooh, pooh, Fulk." 
 
 *' He was at college three years, father ! He 
 arrived with only 10?. in his pocket, and had no 
 friends, or income, or emolument whatever, 
 except the profits of his sizarship. He said it 
 is only men's extravagance that makes college 
 life so expensive. He has his dinners and 
 suppers for nothing, and if he gives up tea, and 
 breakfasts on bread and milk, he spends next to 
 nothing on his board. The supper-bell rings at 
 a quarter to nine, and they don't rise from 
 dinner till half-past three, so that one may very 
 well give up his cup of tea. Indeed, I'll give 
 up mine at home, henceforth, if you like it, 
 father."
 
 1 06 T^he Ladies of 
 
 " Well, Fulk, there will be some sense in 
 that, because you can find how you like it." 
 
 '' Furniture for my rooms I should want, but 
 not much. Henry Kirke White's only cost him 
 \U. Only think, father, of Kirke White ! A 
 butcher's son! carrying out the basket! pro- 
 moted, as a great favour, to be serving-boy to a 
 hosier." 
 
 " Aye, Fulk ! — he died at twenty-one !" 
 
 " Leaving a name, though, father, that will 
 never die! — hey?" 
 
 " You are right.'* 
 
 "The worst of it," pursued Fulk, in a 
 melancholy tone, "is about the gyps. Kirke 
 Whitens gyp stole a sack of coals a week, and 
 used to steal two candles out of every pound, 
 six to the pound. As for tea, sugar, and 
 pocket-handkerchiefs, they were his regular 
 prey. I wonder whether I couldn't do without 
 a gyp. I could do without tea and sugar, but
 
 Bever Hollow, 107 
 
 I couldn't do without coals. — Oh, but I might 
 have a padlock ! " 
 
 "And you might carry your pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs about you," said his father, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 "No, papa, not a whole dozen. Oh, dear! 
 but 1 had nearly forgotten Samuel Wesley — 
 the father of the famous Wesley, you know. 
 He walked to Oxford, entered himself at Exeter 
 College as a poor scholar, and began his studies 
 there with no larger a fund than two pounds 
 sixteen shillings. Yet, by great frugality, he 
 not only supported himself, but when he went 
 to London to be ordained, he had accumulated 
 ten pounds fifteen shillings I " 
 
 " Here comes Mrs. Kitty," said Mr. Bohun, 
 " the harbinger of tea with all its goodly con- 
 comitants. [Accumulated, quotha ! ) " 
 
 " How did you like your heavy book, Mr. 
 Bohun?" said Mrs. Kitty.
 
 io8 T!he Ladies of 
 
 " Better to read than to carry, Mrs. Kitty. 
 There's a body of sound divinity in Jackson." 
 
 "A little soul wanting, though, I think," 
 said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 *' I don't admit that," said Mr. Bohun ; " but 
 his sentences are too long for ladies. The great 
 Hooker " 
 
 " Hooker went to London on foot," cried 
 Fulk ; " and the horse that Bishop Jewel gave 
 him for his journey was a walking-stick. 
 Father, you might afford me such an equipage 
 as that I" 
 
 *'I might, Fulk. I was going to say that 
 even Hooker, if his fame were not his usher, 
 would be thought heavy, now. Even Dr. 
 Johnson " 
 
 "Johnson and Garrick went up to London 
 with a shilling in their pockets," said Fulk. 
 
 **Just enough for one day's dinner," said 
 Mr. Bohun. " Even Johnson's sense and wit
 
 Bever Hollow. 109 
 
 are barely enougli to carry down his sesquipe- 
 dalian words." 
 
 " 0, father ! do you call Johnson witty ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed, Fulk." 
 
 " Well, I do think Rasselas and the Kambler 
 as heavy as lead !" 
 
 *' But not his talk in Boswell." 
 
 " That must be Boswell's merit, then," mur- 
 mured Fulk, helping himself temperately to 
 marmalade. 
 
 " What is wit?" said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " I heard Sydney Smith, who ought to know 
 something about it," said Mr. Bohun, " define 
 it as the ready power of finding likenesses in 
 things apparently dissimilar. Whereas judg- 
 ment is shown in detecting distinctions in 
 things apparently similar." 
 
 *' Capital," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Ex. gra. — " said Mr. Bohun, turning sud- 
 denly on his son.
 
 1 1 o The Ladies of 
 
 "Pope and the note of interrogation," said 
 Fulk, readily. 
 
 "Good," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 "Now for the other," said his father. 
 
 "Dr. Johnson generally expresses sound 
 sense in polysyllabic words," said Fulk, after 
 a moment's pause. " His imitators generally ex- 
 press poor sense in words equally grandiloquent." 
 
 " Very fair, my boy." 
 
 "You were later here than usual, this even- 
 ing, Mr. Bohun," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Because I came round by Bever Hollow." 
 
 "Ah, dear old View Hollow!" cried Mrs. 
 Althea. 
 
 " And not only came round by it, but called 
 there and sat some time with old Mrs. Glyn." 
 
 " How did the dear old place look?" 
 
 "Very well indeed; well kept up, and in 
 good though plain style. Mrs. Glyn thinks her 
 two little grand-daughters are getting rather too
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 1 1 
 
 wild, and in want of a governess. I immediately 
 thought of Pamela." 
 
 " Oh, father ! " cried Fulk, remonstratingly. 
 
 " Yes, Fulk, the situation is not an arduous 
 one, and would be an excellent beginning for 
 her. It is what she must come to when I 
 die " 
 
 " Unless she marries,'' suggested Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Which so pretty a girl is sure to do," added 
 Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Pretty girls do not always marry, Mrs. 
 Kitty." 
 
 " We boys could work for her," cried Fulk. 
 
 " You boys will have to work for yourselves, 
 my lad." 
 
 " Yes, father ; but, really, Pamela is the light 
 of the house, and my mother's right hand, and 
 would be dreadfully missed." 
 
 " All very true," said Mr. Bohun, dwelling on 
 her image with a smile of parental affection.
 
 1 1 2 T^he Ladies of 
 
 " Besides, she is not well enough — not strong 
 enough." 
 
 *' I told Mrs. Glyn she was not quite well at 
 present, and she is perfectly ready to wait till 
 Pamela is a little stronger. There is no hurry; 
 and as I am speaking in confidence to my 
 friends here, you will oblige me by saying 
 nothing of it at home, where I shall, at present, 
 only communicate it to your mother. Nothing 
 is settled, and she may side with you." 
 
 " I'll live in hopes," said Fulk. 
 
 " It is a good plan, I think," said Mr. Bohun 
 questioningly to Mrs. Althea, " to let Pamela 
 get a little over this nervousness, or whatever it 
 is, that hangs about her, before we startle her 
 with any new prospects." 
 
 " Much the best," cried Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " And I was proposing to Fulk, and meaning 
 to propose to you," said Mrs. Althea, " that she 
 should come to us for a little change, as soon as 
 convenient."
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 1 3 
 
 " Thank you ; that will be very salutary and 
 very acceptable," said Mr. Bohun, " as far as we 
 are concerned ; but are you sure it will be con- 
 venient to yourselves ? " 
 
 "Quite! — we love to have young people 
 about us." 
 
 " But are you well enough?" 
 
 " Oh, that will make no difference ! When 
 pain comes, I must bear it, whether she be in or 
 out of the house. In suffering, she will soothe 
 me; in ease, she will cheer and amuse me." 
 
 ** Very well; then she shall come to-morrow." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 1 1 4 The Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Pamelas Peccadillos. 
 
 Yet was she, certes, but a country lass — • 
 Yet she all country lasses far did pass. 
 
 Spenser. 
 And well, with ready hand and heart, 
 Each task of toilsome duty taking, 
 Did one dear inmate bear her part. 
 The last asleep, the earliest waking. 
 Her hands each nightly couch prepared, 
 And frugal meal on which they fared ; 
 Unfolding spread the servet white. 
 And decked the board with tankard bright. 
 Through fretted hose and garment rent, 
 Her tiny needle deftly went, 
 Till hateful penury, so graced. 
 Was scarcely in their dwelling traced. 
 With reverence to the old she clung, 
 With sweet affection to the young ; 
 To her was crabbed lesson said, 
 To her the sly petition made. 
 To her was told each petty care. 
 To her was lisped the nightly prayer, 
 What time the urchin, half undressed. 
 And half asleep, was put to rest. 
 
 Joanna Bailiats..— Metrical Legends. 
 
 " TOHN! John!" a most lovely little boy of 
 
 ^ four years old is saying to a country lad, 
 
 wlio is trenching garden-ground for the winter,
 
 Bever Hollow, 115 
 
 " what's the reason that when you cut a warm 
 in half with your spade, it can -^Triggle itself 
 together again?" 
 
 " Indeed I don't know^ sir," says John, 
 spitting upon his hands, and then resuming his 
 labours. 
 
 The little boy is not much better dressed 
 than John, and yet in every limb and lineament 
 is written gentleman ; more especially in the 
 beautiful little fat, white hands, with taper 
 fingers. He cannot yet speak plainly : he calls 
 John, " Don." 
 
 " If you were cut in half, John, could you 
 wriggle together again ? " 
 
 " Don't think I could, sir." 
 
 *' Then, why can the worm ? " 
 
 " Blest if I knows, sir." 
 
 " What do you mean, John, by ' blest if I 
 knows?' " 
 
 " About the worm, sir, You^d better go and 
 ask Miss Pamela." 
 
 i2
 
 1 1 6 T^he Ladies of 
 
 Off trots the little boy from tlie great, pro- 
 lific, sun-baked kitchen-garden adjoining the 
 old parsonage, to a hazel-hedge, beneath which, 
 in deep shade, sits a young girl on a mossy 
 bank, in luxurious abandon^ deep in the enjoy- 
 ment of a book. Her large straw hat has been 
 borrowed by a younger sister, who is nutting, 
 for a basket. Up trots the baby-boy of the 
 house. 
 
 " Pamma, what does John mean by ' blest if 
 I knows?' " 
 
 " John is very vulgar to use such expressions, 
 Koger ; you must not learn them. John ! " 
 (raising her voice rather indignantly) " you 
 must mind what you say to Master Roger." 
 
 " Yes, miss," respectfully touching the rim 
 of a crownless hat. 
 
 Just then, some one from behind softly fans 
 the back of her neck with a large leaf. 
 
 *' Don't be teasing, Fulk — I am going to get
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 17 
 
 ready directly. But just listen, first, to this 
 lovely passage — " 
 
 He clears his throat a little. She goes on, 
 without looking up ; reclining still more at her 
 ease on the mossy bank. 
 
 " I'm in the ninth canto, Fulk, of book six. 
 'Tis so lovely! Calidore is inquiring for the 
 Blatant Beast (that's Slander^ isn't it ?) of some 
 country shepherds, who, of course, know nothing 
 about him (I don't know that that's of course, 
 though) ; and while he is dining with them, he 
 spies a pretty shepherdess, dressed in green, 
 with a garland of flowers about her head, whom 
 they seem to have made May-queen, for they 
 are all dancing around her. Well, Calidore falls 
 in love with her; and she, being the principal 
 person in the place, and given to hospitality, 
 invites him home to her father's little loam 
 cottage; where old Melibee and his good bel- 
 dame receive him kindly. The word beldame,
 
 1 1 8 "The Ladies of 
 
 Fulk, is here used quite honourably in respect 
 of a good old woman; and, plainly, it comes 
 from helle daine, you know, though it never 
 struck me before. Pastorella spreads a neat 
 little supper, and the knight and the old shep- 
 herd get on quite comfortably together. Hear 
 how nicely they talk : — 
 
 " ' How much,' said he, * more happy is the state 
 In which ye, father, here do dwell at ease, 
 Leading a life so free and fortunate 
 From all the tempests of these worldly seas 
 Which toss the rest in dangerous disease ! 
 Where wars and wrecks, and wicked enmity 
 Do them afflict, which no man can appease ; 
 That, certes, I your happiness envy, 
 And wish my lot were placed in such felicity.' 
 
 ' Surely, my son,' then answered he again, 
 ' If happy, then it is in this intent. 
 That, having small, yet do I not complain 
 Of want, nor wish for more it to augment ; 
 But make myself with what I have content ; 
 So taught of nature, which doth little need 
 Of foreign helps to life's due nourishment. 
 The field's my fold ; my flock my raiment breed. 
 No better do I wear, no better do I feed.'
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 19 
 
 Something like papa, isn't he ? 
 
 " ' Therefore I do not any one envy, 
 Nor am envied by any one therefore.' 
 
 See what high authority Dame Briggs has for 
 saying ^nvy ! 
 
 *' ' They that have much, fear much to lose thereby. 
 And store of cares doth follow riches' store. 
 The little that I have grows daily more 
 Without my care, but only to attend it ; 
 My lambs do every year increase their score, 
 And my flock's Father daily doth amend it. 
 What have I, but to praise the Almighty that doth 
 send it ? ' 
 
 Sir Calidore gets so charmed with this pious 
 old shepherd (and his daughter), that he re- 
 solves to stay there. He soon finds Pastorella 
 has another lover, Corydon ; a sad, unmannered 
 lout, whom she despises, and Corydon becomes 
 spitefully jealous of the knight. But Calidore 
 (who, you know, is courtesy itself) takes no 
 unfair advantage of him. (Do keep the lash 
 of your whip out of my eyes ! my box is
 
 I20 T^he Ladies of 
 
 packed, and I am going to get ready directly). 
 He is of so excellent a nature that * he shews 
 no sign of rancour nor of jar,' but puts Cory- 
 don's clumsy attempts at compliment in the 
 most pleasing light ; and when he brings her 
 sparrows' nests or squirrels, and such like, he 
 commends them to her and speaks up for them. 
 And so — 
 
 " One day, as they all three together went 
 Into the woods, to gather strawberries. 
 There chanced to them a dangerous accident, 
 A tiger — " 
 
 Here a little growl close behind her inter- 
 rupted, but did not frighten her. 
 
 '^ A tiger forth out of the wood did rise — 
 
 Where did you get that?" exclaimed Pamela, 
 stopping short, as a repeater struck twelve close 
 to her ear. Looking round, she started up, on 
 seeing Mr. George Mildmay.
 
 Bever Hollow, 121 
 
 " I thought it was Fnlk ! " said she, turning 
 Very red. 
 
 " So I found," said he, smiling. *' Thank 
 you for reading me those pretty verses." 
 
 *' Oh, I did not read them to you — I — Will 
 you come into the house? " 
 
 " Thank you — I cannot spare time this 
 morning." 
 
 He rode off after a few minutes' chat, looking 
 rather amused. 
 
 Pamela had been very glad to accept Mrs. 
 Althea's invitation, and Fulk drove her over to 
 the Hill House, in a light chaise he had 
 borrowed of a farmer. 
 
 She was about eighteen, tall, slender, bru- 
 nette, with the eyes, teeth, and hair of a 
 beautiful gipsy. But the joyousness of girl- 
 hood, which usually so well became her, was 
 not now to be seen ; in its place she had an air 
 of lassitude and depression, which occasionally,
 
 122 T^he Ladies of 
 
 when she spoke, gave place to a degree of 
 asperity and peevishness quite foreign to her 
 usual good humour. The younger members of 
 her family had been the special sufferers by 
 this; and as Mrs. Bohun saw the injury to 
 their tempers that might ensue from their being 
 the subjects of frequent and unreasonable cross- 
 ness, she was heartily glad, for both parties' 
 sakes, when the news of Mrs. Althea's season- 
 able invitation reached her. 
 
 As Pamela expected nothing but pleasure 
 and relief from her visit, it was not likely that 
 these unfavourable symptoms would soon ap- 
 pear at the Hill House ; nor did they, except in 
 a single brief tone and expression in something 
 she said to her brother relative to home, which 
 escaped not the silent observation of Mrs. Al- 
 thea ; who thereupon said to herself, " Some- 
 thing's wrong. I must find out what it is, and 
 mend it."
 
 Bever Hollow, 123 
 
 When, however, Fulk had departed, and 
 Pamela, having made her little arrangements in 
 the pretty bedroom allotted to her, came down 
 smiling and pleasant, there seemed nothing that 
 wanted mending. She said, " What can I do 
 to help you, Mrs. Althea? " 
 
 So then Mrs. Althea gave her a skein of silk 
 to wind, and talked to her of various matters 
 unconnected with her home. Pamela, having 
 wound the silk, asked for some work ; and was 
 asked in return, " Have you brought none? " 
 
 " Oh yes, some of those everlasting socks to 
 knit, and some of those eternal wristbands to 
 stitch." 
 
 "If they are eternal and everlasting," said 
 Mrs. Althea quietly, " they will not soon need 
 to be replaced." 
 
 " Really, Pamela," said Mrs. Kitty, who was 
 just leaving the room, " such solemn terms as 
 everlasting and eternal used for such trifling
 
 1 24 T^he Ladies of 
 
 matters, seem to me to partake of the nature of 
 swearing." 
 
 Pamela gave lier a startled look with her 
 brilliant black ejes, that one would think might 
 have pierced poor Mrs. Kitty to the backbone, 
 but which could not reach her through a deal 
 door, which luckily that unconscious lady had 
 interposed between herself and the bright eyes 
 as she spoke. Mrs. Althea could not help 
 laughing. Pamela laughed a little, too, but not 
 as if she thought it a very civil joke. 
 
 " Where was the fun ? " said she. 
 
 " You are a comical lass," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 *' I think it was Mrs. Kitty who was comical, 
 if anybody was," said Pamela. 
 
 "Now then," said Mrs. Althea, without pur- 
 suing the subject, " will you put a new lining 
 and strings to this bag for me, or hem these 
 frills?" 
 
 " Oh, the bag, please ! What pretty pink
 
 Bever Hollow. 125 
 
 persian ! May I make the bag rather prettier 
 in shape, Mrs. Althea ? " 
 
 '' Yes, my love, I shall like it all the better." 
 Chatting of one thing and another, they got 
 on most harmoniously and cheerfully together 
 till tea-time. Mrs. Althea related the story of 
 her accident, her debt of gratitude to the butter- 
 badger, and her singular introduction to Khoda, 
 who, Pamela was convinced, must be a very 
 nice girl indeed. 
 
 " What tempting little slices of buttered 
 roll ! " said she, as Hannah spread the tea- 
 table. " We have such great thick slices of 
 bread-and-butter, they take away one's appetite." 
 " You have rather a larger party at your 
 house than ours," said Mrs. Kitty, " and rather 
 younger appetites." 
 
 " Yes, and even if we have toast, we must 
 make it ourselves ; and mamma does not like us 
 to cut thin slices like these."
 
 126 .7 he Ladies of 
 
 " I should think not," said Mrs. Kitty ; 
 " they take twice as much butter. I had no 
 idea, though, missy, that you were so par- 
 ticular." 
 
 " When people lose their appetite for their 
 daily food," said Pamela, rather faltering, 
 " perhaps it makes them particular." 
 
 " Soho ! you've lost your appetite, have 
 you?" cried Mrs. Kitty, looking very hard at 
 her ; " pray, how comes that ?" 
 
 *' Kitty, you looked so like old Mrs. Bolton 
 at that instant," said Mrs. Althea, laughing. 
 
 '* Thank'e, ma'am, for the compliment." 
 
 Mrs. Althea was determined to cany the 
 war into the enemy's quarter, and give Pamela 
 time to avoid crying ; "which she did so effec- 
 tually, with plenty of drollery, and not the 
 least ill-nature, that, at the end of tea, she was 
 quite tired. 
 
 " Now, you've knocked yourself up," said
 
 Bever Hollow, 127 
 
 Mrs. Kitty,, who had laughed as much as 
 Pamela. 
 
 " Something like it," said Mrs. Althea ; " so 
 you shall read to me, Pamela, till I have re- 
 covered myself." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Pamela ; " what 
 shall it be ? " 
 
 " Choose your own book, my dear." 
 
 " Here seems to be a novel called, ' Things 
 by their right Names,' " said Pamela, examin- 
 ing the shelves. 
 
 " A capital one, too," said Mrs. Althea, 
 " only I am afraid I know it by heart. If I 
 were not so tired, you should try me." 
 
 " My dear child," interposed Mrs. Kitty to 
 Pamela, " do look out something a little im- 
 proving. We're not exactly eighteen." 
 
 "Fie, Kitty ! " said Mrs. Althea ; " 70U know 
 very well you love a good novel now as dearly
 
 128 "The Ladies of 
 
 as ever, and have done so ever since you were 
 younger than Pamela." 
 
 Mrs. Kitty muttered something about no 
 good novels coming out now, to which nobody 
 replied. 
 
 " Here's ' The Gleaner,' " said Pamela : " it 
 looks like an agreeable miscellany." 
 
 " And is so, too," said Mrs. Althea. " How 
 I used to pore over it when I had the hooping- 
 cough ! " 
 
 " Plenty of novelettes in that^ young lady," 
 said Mrs. Kitty, biting oiF her thread. 
 
 " Nay, Mrs. Kitty, here are some dull 
 articles to balance them. Perhaps I shall find 
 something here to suit all parties." And she 
 returned to the table, with the four volumes. 
 
 " Would not one at a time have suflSced ? " 
 said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Then I should have had four walks to the 
 book-case," said Pamela, hardily.
 
 Bever Hollow, 120 
 
 *' Now, stir the fire, the candles snuff. 
 And pray be sure they're long enough. 
 
 '' ' Reflections on the Tombs in Westminster 
 Abbey.' That will be improving, I should 
 think, Mrs. Kitty ? ' Marriage, happiness or 
 misery of, a Eeverie.' What a felicitous title ! 
 ' Poetry — The despairing Lover.' Oh, Mrs. 
 Kitty ! Mrs. Kitty ! listen to this !— 
 
 " Distracted with care 
 For Phyllis the fair. 
 Since nothing would move her, 
 Poor Damon, her lover, 
 Eesolves not to languish 
 And bear so much anguish ; 
 But, mad with his love. 
 To a precipice goes. 
 Where a leap from above 
 Would soon finish his woes. 
 When in rage he came there. 
 Beholding how steep 
 The sides did appear, 
 And the bottom how deep. 
 His torments projecting. 
 And sadly reflecting 
 That a lover forsaken 
 A new love might get, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 The Toadies of 
 
 But a neck when once broken 
 
 Can never be set. 
 
 And that he could die 
 
 Whenever he would. 
 
 But that he could live 
 
 But as long as he could, 
 
 How grievous soever 
 
 His torments might grow. 
 
 He scorned to endeavour 
 
 To finish it so ; 
 
 But, bold, unconcerned 
 
 At the thoughts of the pain, 
 
 He calmly returned 
 
 To his cottage again ! " 
 
 " Like a sensible fellow," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 «' Why, yes, I tliink so," said Pamela, laugh- 
 ing. " Then comes ' The Old Maid's Wish.' " 
 
 " Ah, I like that," said Mrs. Althea. *'Let 
 me hear it, my dear." 
 
 " As I grow an old maid, and find I go down, 
 Nor adored in the country, nor courted in town ; 
 In coTintry or town let this still be my fate. 
 Not the jest of the young, nor of aged the hate. 
 May I govern my temper with absolute sway, 
 May my wisdom increase as my youth wears away, 
 And good-nature attend to my very last day.
 
 Bever Hollow, 1 3 1 
 
 *' With the young or the old, with the maid or the wife. 
 Oh may I enliven the evening of life ; 
 Still gay without pride, and jocose without art. 
 With some sense in my tongue, and much truth in my heart. 
 
 May I, &c. 
 
 *' May I not have one thought or desire to appear 
 In parties of pleasure, 'mong the young and the fair, 
 But with grave sober dames all my wishes fulfil, 
 With three dishes of tea, and three games of quadrille. 
 
 May I, &c. 
 
 *' When grown still more old (as not courted when yoimg), 
 May I ne'er wish to listen to man's flatt'ring tongue ; 
 And should some young spark to my fortime make love. 
 With scorn and contempt at his scheme, may I prove 
 I can govern my passions with absolute sway. 
 For my wisdom increases as youth wears away. 
 And good-nature attends to my very last day." 
 
 " Would that suit yo^i, missy ? " said Mrs. 
 Kittv, abruptly. 
 
 " Where's the need of personal application ? " 
 said Pamela. " No — I don't think ' three dishes 
 of tea and three games of quadrille ' would suit 
 me. If I am to be an old maid at all, as very 
 likely I shall be, I hope I shall be like Mrs. 
 k2
 
 132 The Ladies of 
 
 Altliea, and not want to go out to card-parties. 
 Otherwise, I like the verses." 
 
 ." Soberly, though," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Well, they are sober verses," said Pamela. 
 " ' Sketch of some worn-out Characters of the 
 last Century.' * The Haunted House, an Anec- 
 dote.' That sounds promising." 
 
 *' And fulfils its promise," said Mrs. Althea. 
 " I am very fond of that paper." 
 
 " I will read it, then," said Pamela. And she 
 read about the country squire's maiden aunt, 
 with her phthisicky pug-dog, her keys at her 
 apron-string, and her cupboards full of cherry 
 and raspberry brandy, seed-cake, washes for 
 the complexion, and physics for the poor; of 
 " the little, independent gentleman " of three 
 hundred pounds a year, in his plain drab or 
 plush coat, large silver buttons, and jockey-cap, 
 his travels limited to the next county town at 
 session and assize time, his dinners with the
 
 Bever Hollow. 133 
 
 country attorneys and justices, his vestry-meet- 
 ings and his evenings at the alehouse : ending 
 with, *' Alas ! these men and these houses are 
 no more." 
 
 "And a very good thing too, I think," said 
 Pamela. 
 
 " I can remember just such fellows," said 
 Mrs. Kitty. " Sim Stokely : you recollect 
 him, Althea?" 
 
 " To be sure I do," said Mrs. Althea. " And 
 Joe St. Leger. Joey, my father used to call 
 him. Many's the time I've sat on his knee. 
 As George Mildmay said of his bat, ' he lived 
 respected and died regretted.'' " 
 
 "What bat?" said Pamela. 
 
 " A tame bat that put its hair in curl-papers 
 every night," said Mrs. Kitty. " But you 
 haven't given us ' The Haunted House,' Pamela." 
 
 "Nor the verses," said Mrs. Althea, ''be- 
 ginning —
 
 134 ^^^ Ladies of 
 
 '* If from the cerements of the silent dead 
 Our long-departed friends could rise anew. 
 Why feel a horror, or conceive a dread, 
 To see again those friends whom once we knew ?" 
 
 *' Dear Mrs. Althea, if you have tliem by 
 heart already," said Pamela, "why would you 
 
 *' Hear again those lines which once you knew ?" 
 
 " There is a charm in the sound of our 
 favourite pieces, my dear girl," said Mrs. 
 Althea. " We do not always relish a tale 
 the less for being twice told, or twenty times 
 told." 
 
 " Such a tale as this, for instance," said 
 Pamela, laughing ; and she read out some ridi- 
 culous passages in " The Adventures of Emma." 
 " I suppose that used to be called fine writing," 
 said she. 
 
 " Such stories as those brought novel-reading 
 into ill repute/' said Mrs. Althea; "and no 
 wonder."
 
 Bever Hollow. 135 
 
 " Ah, I once thought that talc a sweet thing," 
 said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Yea, Mrs. Kitty, I am sure it is bedewed 
 witli some long-dried tears. 8ee, the paper is 
 ({uite crumply and mouhly in one place." 
 
 *' No, that was when George Mildmay's 
 father found me reading it under the crab-apple 
 tree — Jack Mildraay, we used to call him — I 
 jumped up to run away (for I couldn't bear 
 him), and let the book fall on the wet grass." 
 
 " I fancy, Mrs. Kitty, some comical stories 
 might be divulged of you and old Mr. Mild- 
 may." 
 
 " Old Mr. Mildmay ! Come, I like that ! 
 No older than you will be, if you live as long. 
 He was very well-looking, and very fond of me, 
 I can assure you." 
 
 ^'Then why were not you equally fond of 
 him?" 
 
 " There*s no accounting for tastes, you know," 
 said Mrs. Kitty,
 
 136 The Ladies of 
 
 "Was he at all like his son?" said Pamela, 
 appealing to Mrs. Althea. 
 
 "My dear?" returned Mrs. Althea with a 
 start. " I beg your pardon ! I believe I was 
 not attending." 
 
 Mrs. Kitty laughed. "Well," said she, 
 " that's a subject you seldom fail to rouse at. 
 But you are getting sleepy now : we will have 
 prayers and supper, and go to bed. Bring me 
 the great Bible, Pamela." 
 
 When Pamela retired for the night, she was 
 surprised to reflect how remote from everything 
 leading to her home had been the various sub- 
 jects of their conversation. "Well," thought 
 she, " every one lives in their own little circle, 
 and has their own round of ideas, which some- 
 times get very wearisome and perplexing ; and 
 then it is a very good thing to break through 
 them." 
 
 With morning dawn, every one in her father's
 
 Bever Hollow, 137 
 
 busy house was accustomed to arise ; for he in- 
 culcated that " a sluggard is next to a waster," 
 and acted on the principle of those simple, 
 forcible lines, by Knight of Covent Garden — 
 
 " Oh, waste not thou the smallest thing 
 
 Created by Divinity, 
 For grains of dust the mountains make, 
 
 And atomies infinity* 
 And waste thou not the smallest time, 
 
 'Tis man's insane infirmity ; 
 For well thou knowest, if aught thou knowest. 
 
 That moments make eternity." 
 
 But, knowing that ^Irs* Kitty, though early 
 afoot, was engrossed by her dairy cares at that 
 hour, and that Mrs. Althea's ill health pre- 
 vented her leaving her room so soon as would 
 otherwise have been the case, Pamela had an 
 extra hour's luxurious enjoyment of her pillow, 
 which, to the over-wrought in mind or body, 
 is occasionally as salutary as it is delightful. 
 To Pamela it was, for the time, quite restoring. 
 Of course, she had a good scolding from Mrs.
 
 138 The Ladies of 
 
 Kitty wlien tliey met at breakfast ; but Pamela 
 had a kind* of sturdiness which made her im- 
 penetrable to chiding when causelessly bestowed ; 
 and " the soft word that breaketh the bone," 
 and melteth the rock, would, from Mrs. Althea, 
 at any time, have sunk into her heart, when 
 Mrs. Kitty's objurgations proved but the " hard 
 words that break no bones." 
 
 After breakfast, Pamela industriously applied 
 herself to her stitching, as well from an innate 
 principle of duty as from a secret consciousness 
 that Mrs. Althea would sooner see her so em- 
 ployed than turning over the leaves of the most 
 innocently amusing book. Besides, she had the 
 prospect of a long, uninterrupted morning with 
 that loved friend ; and needlework left her mind 
 and tongue at leisure for many a theme interest- 
 ing and pleasant to them both. After two 
 hours of this intercourse, however, Mrs. Althea 
 thought it expedient to propose air and exercise
 
 Bever Hollow, 139 
 
 to her young friend ; but Pamela demurred, and 
 as a little change of occupation, eVen though 
 of light reading before sunset, seemed earned, 
 (though the reverse was the home rule), she 
 took the first volume of ' Things by their Eight 
 Names ' from the shelf, placed herself in jNIrs. 
 Kitty's bee-hive chair, and was soon immersed 
 in her book ; while Mrs. Althea, with her little 
 writing apparatus at her elbow, pondered, con- 
 stinicted, and revised a letter to ' the Squire,' on 
 Fulk's character and prospects, before she com- 
 mitted a word of it to paper. Their silent com- 
 panionship received no interruption till a chaise 
 drove briskly to the gate. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Forest," cried Pamela, starting 
 up. "■ I shall leave you to your consultation." 
 
 " Ketum before he goes, then," said ]Mrs. 
 Althea, " for I want him to see you." 
 
 " But I don't want to see Am," interrupted 
 Pamela, "for I would rather not have any of
 
 140 T^ he Ladies of 
 
 his advice ; so pray don't tell him I am here. 
 I shall run off with my book to one of the 
 gi'een wigs." 
 
 And laughing as she spoke, she darted away 
 just in time to escape him.
 
 Bever Ho/low. 14.% 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Green Wig. 
 
 Benevolence, from its veiy nature, composes the mind, 
 warms the heart, enlivens the whole frame, and 
 brightens every feature of the countenance. It may 
 justly be said to be medicinal, both to soul and body. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Keid, 
 
 II /TR. FOREST was a middle-aged man, 
 ^■^ clever and kind, but not addicted, like his 
 junior partner, to much unprofessional talking ; 
 for which, indeed, his extended practice seldom 
 gave him time. 
 
 However, he used to relax a little sometimes 
 in Mrs. Althea's behalf, by chatting for ten 
 minutes on the news of the day. Having done 
 so in the present instance, he had leisure to 
 observe a fine geranium at the other end of the
 
 142 T^he Ladies of 
 
 room, and walked towards it to admire it ; after 
 which he looked through the bow window into 
 the garden. 
 
 "It is getting rather too late in the season 
 for sitting out of doors," said he. "There's 
 some one in the arbour." 
 
 " Before the leaves fell, that arbour could not 
 be seen from the window," said Mrs. Althea, 
 inwardly amused. " It is sheltered from the 
 north." 
 
 "It is not Mrs. Kitty," said he, after a 
 moment's pause, " unless she wears a large 
 straw hat with a blue ribbon." 
 
 " Which she has not done these twenty 
 years," said Mrs. Althea, laughing. " It is 
 Pamela Bohun, who is spending a few days 
 with us. You frightened her away." 
 
 " I am sorry I am so formidable," said Mr. 
 Forest, still looking out. 
 
 " I wanted you to see her," said Mrs. Althea,
 
 Bever Hollow, 143 
 
 " for she is not very well ; but slie started off at 
 the first word." 
 
 " Perhaps she likes George's advice better 
 than mine," said Mr. Forest. " He has seen 
 her once or twice ; and so have I." 
 
 " What ails her, do you suppose?" 
 
 " Well, to tell you the plain truth, I think it 
 is merely from being overwrought in various 
 ways. They are a large family, a very large 
 family, with very little to live upon : all putting 
 their shoulder to the wheel that can ; and some 
 of them overtaxing their strength. There's the 
 mother, nearly ready to break down; and 
 Pamela, discerning it with quick affection, does 
 too much herself in order to relieve her." 
 
 " Just what I thought ! One cannot help 
 loving her for it." 
 
 " Help it ! Xo ! But we must not let it go 
 on so, for all that, or she'll go into a decline, 
 9^d so break the heart of the mother she wishes
 
 144 ^^^ Ladies of 
 
 to spare every sorrow and trouble. And, just 
 because I give her to understand as much, she 
 does not like to see me. However, I want to 
 speak a word to her, notwithstanding; and, 
 with your permission, I'll just step through that 
 glass door." 
 
 " She'll see you, and run away. No ; if you 
 really want to catch her, you had better go out 
 of the front gate, and round under the garden 
 wall to the little postern-door, which is pretty 
 sure to be unlatched, and which is just behind 
 the arbour." 
 
 " Thank you ; I will. And I can tell John, 
 at the same time, to drive round, so that I need 
 not come back." 
 
 He went, but lost his object ; for the parlour 
 having a double light, Pamela, looking up from 
 her book, saw him in the window, guessed he 
 must see her, and darted from the " green wig," 
 down the pleached alley, through the scullery.
 
 Bever Hollow. 145 
 
 kitchen, and stone passage, np into her own 
 bedroom, where she remained snuglj ensconced 
 till she heard the muffled sound of his gig 
 dri\ang over the turf across the common. 
 
 Then she returned to Mrs. Althea, in such 
 glee at the success of her retreat, that Mrs. 
 Kitty, coming in with a cottager's " amazing 
 fat baby," that she thought Mrs. Althea must 
 admire, could not imagine what they were both 
 laughing so heartily at. When told, the joke 
 seemed to her poor enough ; but it supplied 
 Pamela with good spirits for the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 Meanwhile Rhoda's thoughts were running 
 so much on Bever Hollow, that her uncle, who 
 wanted to call on ^Ir. Glyn, offered to make 
 her his companion. Anna and Charlotte had 
 already exchanged visits with Mrs. Glyn, whom 
 they thought a repelling old lady ; and, as they 
 had no particular taste for old tumble-down 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 The Ladies of 
 
 places with long pedigrees, they only h^^g^di 
 their father, if Mr. Glyn were at home, which 
 he never seemed to be, and if he appeared worth 
 knowing, to invite him to dinner, without stand- 
 ing on ceremony. 
 
 Rhoda was very fond of riding with her 
 uncle, which she could not do except when she 
 could have one of her cousins' horses. As they 
 cantered over the smooth turf and along the 
 road, her colour and spirits rose, and she became 
 quite talkative, much to the benefit of Mr. Hill, 
 who, being a quiet man, was glad when his 
 companions took the trouble of amusing him 
 and themselves. 
 
 The first view of Bever Hollow, backed by 
 the steep downs dotted with sheep, and with its 
 numerous irregular gables, chimney-stacks, and 
 casements peering among some fine oaks and 
 chestnuts, even surpassed her expectations. 
 Through the gateway, which had three escut-
 
 Bever Hollow, 147 
 
 cheons over it, was riding forth a very hand- 
 some young man, well mounted, with a grey- 
 hound, whom the gatekeeper was evidently 
 saluting as his master. The gentleman drew 
 his rein on seeing the visitors approach, giving 
 them an inquiring look ; and then, riding up to 
 them, said — 
 
 " Mr. Hill, I believe?— my name is Glyn;" 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 " I am glad to make yom* acquaintance, sir," 
 said Mr. Hill. '' My niece. Miss Ehoda Hill." 
 On which, bows were exchanged ; and Mr. Glyn 
 turned his horse about, to accompany them to 
 the house. 
 
 " Pray don't return on our account," said 
 Mr. Hill. " I dare say you have affairs else- 
 where." 
 
 " Don't mention them, pray," said Mr. Glyn, 
 cordially. " I have nothing which may not 
 very well be deferred to prevent my having now 
 l2
 
 148 T^he Ladies of 
 
 the pleasure I have already missed of seeing you 
 in my own house." 
 
 " A fine old place, sir," said Mr. Hill ; '' those 
 are the arms of its former occupants, the Halls, 
 over the gateway, I presume ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Mr. Glyn, smiling. " If we 
 were merely life-tenants, or tenants-at-will, I 
 would never have displaced the old escutcheons, 
 if I had found any. But, you see, the place is 
 mine; and therefore it was quite simple that I 
 should put up the arms of the Glyns, Lewk- 
 uors, and De Eosendales. We intermarried, you 
 know, in the time of Henry the Sixth, with the 
 younger brother of the Sir Thomas Lewknor 
 who married the heiress of Sir Eichard Dalyn- 
 grudge." 
 
 Mr. Hill knew nothing about it ; but he only 
 said, " Ah, I see," and began to admire the 
 timber. 
 
 " You have some fine wood about the Hall,"
 
 Bever Ho//ow. 149 
 
 said Mr. Glyn, rather condescendingly ; for 
 though it had a great many more trees, they 
 were not nearly so old. 
 
 " The Hall is a larger place, but not nearly 
 so pretty as View Hollow," said Ehoda. 
 
 " View Hollow ! Do you mean Bever Hol- 
 low?" cried Mr. Glyn, arching his eyebrows. 
 
 '' I forgot," said Rhoda, laughing. " That 
 was only Mrs. Althea's old name for it." 
 
 Mr. Glyn laughed very heartily, and said he 
 thought it a very original translation of Beau^ 
 voir. Besides, it had sprung up among the old 
 inhabitants, and had therefore something re- 
 spectable in it. He understood the Halls were 
 very worthy people, though he had not the 
 pleasure of their acquaintance. 
 
 " I should have thought they would be just 
 the sort of people you would like," said Ehoda, 
 simply. 
 
 '' Why?" said Mr. Glyn, with surprise.
 
 1 ^o The Ladies of 
 
 " Because their family is so ancient." 
 
 " Oh ! Pretty well for that, though we came 
 in with the Conqueror." 
 
 " But they are Saxon." 
 
 " Thegns, then, I think," said Mr. Glyn. 
 " They were men of peace, and we were men 
 of war." 
 
 " None the better for that, perhaps," said 
 Khoda, briskly. 
 
 He looked amused, and said, " Why, you are 
 doing battle yourself. I see I shall find you 
 a sharp antagonist — quite a Clorinda!" 
 
 This silenced Ehoda, who coloured a little, 
 and thought she had been too forward. 
 
 "If you look down upon all who did not 
 come in with the Conqueror, I am afraid you 
 will have little to say to me," said ]\Ir. Hill 
 good-humouredly, " for I can't trace my line up 
 higher than my grandfather." 
 
 " I was just going to remark to Miss Hill,"
 
 Bever Ho /low. 151 
 
 said Mr. Glyn, " that one does not value people 
 simply for their descent, though it is a good 
 thing to have it. Consequently, their ancient 
 blood alone was hardly temptation enough to 
 induce my mother and me to go so far in quest 
 of two old ladies." 
 
 " Two such nice old ladies," said Ehoda, 
 timidly. 
 
 " Are they ? " said Mr. Glyn, doubtfully. 
 
 *' Mrs. Althea is, at any rate. And I believe 
 Mrs. Kitty is very amiable." 
 
 *' Well, I hope she is," said Mr. Glyn, 
 smiling ; " but she does look funny, riding about 
 in that mannish attire. Why need she unsex 
 herself?" 
 
 At this moment, they reached the Hall-door ; 
 on the lawn in front of which, two pretty little 
 girls of six and eight years old were playing 
 with a little white dog with a blue ribbon round 
 his neck. 
 
 l2
 
 152 ' The Ladies of 
 
 "- Eun in, Adela and Mab," said Mr. Glyn, 
 '' and tell grandmamma here are Mr, and Miss 
 Hill come to call on her," — at the same time 
 assisting Ehoda from her horse before Mr. Hill 
 could get his feet out of his stirrups. 
 
 The entrance-hall was very dark, and rendered 
 more so by the narrow slits of windows being 
 glazed with painted glass, covered with coats-of- 
 arms and medioeval saints. The drawing-room 
 was quaint, and replete with comfort, from the 
 heavy ruby-coloured curtains to the snow-white 
 sheepskin hearth-rug. The old lady did not 
 seem inclined to hurry herself for her guests, 
 therefore Mr. Glyn did the best he could for 
 them in her absence by pointing out to Mr. Hill 
 a picture of the Four Evangelists by Andrea 
 Mantegna, and calling Ehoda' s attention to 
 a casket engraved with arabesques by Maso 
 Finiguerra, 
 
 When old Mrs. Glyn entered in all her
 
 Bever Hollow. 
 
 ^SZ 
 
 majesty, in her black velvet gown, and leaning 
 on her ivoiy-headed cane, she looked almost 
 forbidding ; but as soon as she saw that Ehoda 
 was neither Anna nor Charlotte, her countenance 
 cleared, and she proved that she could be both 
 couiteous and pleasant. Her youngest grand- 
 daughter, holding her by the skirt, peeped 
 shyly through her long flaxen curls ; and Ehoda 
 thought they might aptly have been painted as 
 personifying Age and Childhood. 
 
 When Mr. Glyn had seen his visitors off, he 
 returned to his mother. 
 
 " The old gentleman has invited me to 
 dinner," said he. 
 
 " Surely he might have waited till we asked 
 him first," said Mrs. Glyn. 
 
 " In that case, my dear mother, he would 
 have waited long enough ; for you know you 
 meant never to invite him at all." 
 
 " Well, Charles, this forwardness of his shows
 
 154- The Ladies of 
 
 him for what I thought him — an upstart, un- 
 acquainted with the usages of good society. Are 
 you going ? " 
 
 " Why, yes. He seems a well-meaning, un- 
 pretending man enough, and his niece is a 
 pleasant, unaffected girl." 
 
 " More than can be said of his daughters. 
 He certainly appears to more advantage without 
 them. They are decidedly pushing ; and scheme- 
 ing too, I fancy." 
 
 " That is only fancy, however." 
 
 '^ Not quite. This dinner may be a trap for 
 you." 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho! ^' 
 
 " Ah, you may laugh, but I know girls better 
 than you do. And I think these are deep. 
 I am sure they are disagreeable. But I like 
 the niece." 
 
 " So do I, and I can get on very well with 
 the old gentleman, though he does call this
 
 Bever Hollow, ^SS 
 
 Bever Ollow ! His niece calls it View Hollow ; 
 what do you think of that, mother? " 
 
 Anna and Charlotte were considerably im- 
 pressed with Ehoda's description of ^Ir. Glyn, 
 though Charlotte observed they must deduct 
 sixty per cent, from it, because she also spoke 
 in favour of ^Irs. Glyn, whom they knew to be 
 a repulsive old lady. Any way, it was pleasant 
 to think Mr. Glyn was coming to dinner ; and 
 the chief question was, how they should make 
 up a suitable party to meet him. 
 
 From whatever cause it might be, it was an 
 undeniable fact that the Hills had not hitherto 
 become very popular in the neighbom-hood. 
 They were rich, but they did not seem to know 
 how to spend their money; they were osten- 
 tatious in some things, and parsimonious in 
 others. Many of the estabUshed families had 
 called on them, to see what they were ; but 
 finding them neither clever nor entertaining,
 
 156 The Ladies of 
 
 nor highly educated, nor very well-bred, nor 
 accustomed to the usages of the best society, 
 they had been pronounced rather mauvais ton, 
 and the calls were repeated at long intervals, if 
 repeated at all, and in most cases were not suc- 
 ceeded by invitations. Still there are always 
 some who like to visit everybody ; and thus the 
 Miss Hills were not destitute of acquaintance, 
 though there were several house-s from which, to 
 their chagrin, they were shut out. Hence, when 
 they came to draw out a list for their dinner- 
 party, they found its component parts rather 
 heterogeneous, and were afraid that if they had 
 any refusals they should even be deficient in 
 numbers.
 
 Bever Hollow. i ^y 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 PameMs Troubles. 
 
 And thou, though strong in love, art all too weak 
 
 In reason : in self-government too slow. 
 
 I counsel thee, by fortitude to seek 
 
 Our blest reunion in the shades below. 
 
 The invisible world with thee hath sympathized. 
 
 Be thy aflfections raised and solemnized, 
 
 Wordsworth, — Laodamia. 
 
 rilHE next day was Sunday. 
 
 -*- " Shall I stay at home and read with you, 
 
 Mrs. Althea?" said Pamela. 
 
 " By no means, my dear," said Mrs. Althea. 
 " Hannah always remains with me in the 
 morning, and Kitty in the afternoon. At one 
 time I was bold enough to think I could spare 
 them both, but Kitty would not hear of it.
 
 158 The Ladies of 
 
 unless I had a young girl who lives on the 
 skirts of the common to take Hannah's place. 
 So Sally Price came, — though, as she was kept 
 from church instead of Hannah, I cannot say 
 much good was gained." 
 
 *' She would not have gone to church," in- 
 terrupted Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not. But Sally was a 
 coward, — one of those lasses that never have 
 their wits about them. It was fair-time, and 
 though we are not very near the fair-ground, a 
 good many tramps always pay us their respects 
 on that occasion, hanging about the common, 
 boiling their potatoes under hedges, laying 
 their hands on geese, hens, and linen spread to 
 bleach, — now and then frightening people in 
 lone farm-houses. One of these sturdy fellows, 
 shaggy as a lion, found his way to the back- 
 door the first (and only) Sunday Sally had me 
 in charge. She, doubtless showing her fears in
 
 Bever Hollow. 1 59 
 
 her face, told him to go away, instead of which 
 he took hold of the lintel of the door, to prevent 
 her closing it. So then she banged it against 
 his fingers, making him roar out with pain, and 
 not only roar, but, as she said, ' to cuss and to 
 swear,' and vow she should be the worse far it. 
 As soon as she had bolted out this * thundering 
 rogue,' as Hannah calls him, she came into the 
 parlour, crying aloud, and begging she might 
 sit with me till Hannah came back. When 
 Kitty returned, and found I had been protector, 
 she said she would have no more nonsense, and 
 that Hannah and she must never go to church 
 together again." 
 
 " Quite right," cried Pamela. ^' Fancy a 
 person as helpless as you are, at the mercy of a 
 * thundering rogue I '" 
 
 "Althea tried her best upon Sally," said 
 Mrs. Kitty, laughing, *' in the way of reading, 
 writing, and arithmetic ; but she found all her
 
 i6o T^he Ladies of 
 
 pains lost. So then I took lier in hand, and 
 made her a thorough cleaner." 
 
 " Yes ; and Sally is not the only unpromising 
 subject," said Mrs. Althea, " that Kitty has 
 converted into a good farm-servant." 
 
 ".Oh, she wasn't tliaV^' said Kitty; ^'for a 
 good farm-servant wants a head, as well as 
 other people." 
 
 '^ Some seem born without one," said Pamela, 
 " and yet they get on somehow. I never can 
 make out how far it is desirable to educate the 
 poor." 
 
 " What sort of books does your father re- 
 commend for them?" said Mrs. Altliea. 
 
 " Well, you will perhaps consider him rather 
 narrow-minded. A man has lately come round 
 to our houses and cottages, with a good many 
 cheap serials, stories, histories, biographies, in 
 penny numbers, with gay paper covers and 
 showy frontispieces. Papa does not encourage
 
 Bever Hollow. i6i 
 
 him — he says our poor people have so little 
 time to read, that that little should not be 
 frittered away and diverted from the Bible and 
 solid books." 
 
 "Excellent," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 "Excellent," said Mrs. Althea, doubtfully; 
 "and yet I am not quite sure that it works 
 as well as it sounds. Jewellers find that the 
 purest gold requires alloy to make it work well. 
 The theory is excellent, but is the practice 
 quite satisfactory? I am afraid, if I had early 
 been restricted to solid books, 1 should not have 
 been much of a reader. At any rate, I should 
 have missed the desultory accumulation of a 
 great deal of miscellaneous knowledge that has 
 turned to various accounts throughout my life ; 
 and though I would not recommend quite such 
 a desultory course of reading, yet a general — a 
 miscellaneous course I would recommend to 
 any one who had it within their reach. Mrs. 
 Raffarty's Grecian colonnade at the top of her 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 T^he Ladies of 
 
 verandah is not very safe architecture; but in 
 reading, I think, the solids sometimes get the 
 upper place." 
 
 "Well, Pamela, it is time for us to get 
 ready," said Mrs. Kitty; "for it is a good pull 
 to Collington church." 
 
 "How I wish we could take you with us!" 
 said Pamela, lingering. 
 
 " Ah, don't name it," said Mrs. Althea, with 
 a tear twinkling in her eye. " What must be, 
 must — and I don't often yield to regrets; 
 though I should enjoy it if we could go up to 
 the house of the Lord in company." 
 
 " ' Pain, pain, go to Spain ! ' " said Pamela, 
 smiling, and kissing her. 
 
 "No, no! I must not, will not echo that I 
 Pain is pain ; though whether it be an evil or 
 not, I have not, all this long while, clearly 
 made out. But, grant it an evil. Well, then ! 
 the Christian may say — 
 
 ' Evil, be thou my good ! '
 
 Bever Hollow, 163 
 
 in a different sense from that of the lost arch- 
 angel. But, now, you have no time to lose." 
 
 When Pamela came down from her room, 
 and saw Mrs. Althea lying peacefully with 
 folded hands, " and looks commercing with the 
 skies," she, who had hardly known a day's 
 illness, felt impressed by it, and said, with a 
 little awe, — 
 
 '' Perhaps you are the most enviable of us, 
 after all!" 
 
 " How so ?" said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Oh, — ^you are so weaned from the world, — 
 you have so much leisure for prayer and good 
 thoughts." 
 
 '^My dear," said Mrs. Althea, quickly, 
 " never say anything of that sort again ! I 
 have had a good deal to wean me from the 
 world, but that is a very different matter fr-om 
 being weaned. And ' leisure ' ? Truly, I have 
 enough and to spare! — but I can't always 
 K 2
 
 1 64 The Ladtes of 
 
 employ It In prayer, nor even In good thoughts. 
 It is my burthen that I cannot. But I 
 don't want to talk about this — there's Kitty 
 coming down stairs, and you have a nice, 
 brisk walk to church before you, and a soul- 
 cleansing service to take part in, and a good 
 sermon to hear — and, my dear, you have no 
 time to lose. I am glad Kitty has you here 
 to-day. Dear soul, she does not often get a 
 companion." 
 
 This was another new light to Pamela. 
 "She does not, certainly," thought she, as she 
 followed her brisk, elderly friend. " Poor Mrs. 
 Kitty ! it must be dull to her to be always 
 nursing. Not that she minds it a bit, I know 
 very well ; she is too good for that — ^but still, 
 we all like a little variety, and require it too ; 
 so I will make her as cheerful as I can.'* 
 
 When Rhoda called, the next day, at the 
 Hill House, she felt rather jealous at finding a
 
 Bever Hollow, 165 
 
 nice girl established in Mrs. Althea's parlour; 
 but Pamela was so pretty and pleasant that 
 her heart soon warmed towards her, and Mrs. 
 Althea presently sent them into the garden to- 
 gether, to cut her a nosegay of autumn flowers. 
 
 Soon afterwards, George Mildmay dropped 
 in ; and, after a little personal talk, !Mrs. Althea 
 said, " George, I advise you to take a turn in 
 our garden this fine morning." 
 
 " Why? " said he, with surprise. 
 
 "Oh, — because it looks so nice just now; 
 especially with two nice young ladies in it.'^ 
 
 " Who are they ? " said he, laughing. " You 
 know I'm very select." 
 
 " You may be as select as you like, then," 
 said Mrs. Althea, " if neither Miss Rhoda Hill 
 nor Miss Bohun are worthy of your attention." 
 
 " Oh, come ! they are too great attractions," 
 said he, starting up. " One of them is a beau- 
 tiful girl, at any rate."
 
 1 66 T^he Ladies of 
 
 " AVhich ? " said Mrs. Althea, looking keenlj 
 at him. 
 
 " Aye, which ! " said he, laughing. ^^ There's 
 something for you to amuse yourself about while 
 I'm away, for I'm not going to tell you." And 
 he walked off without further ceremony. 
 
 The girls had just reached the end of the 
 turf- walk, and were turning round, — Pamela 
 with a few flowers and the garden scissars in 
 her hand. 
 
 " Here comes Mr. Mildmay," observed Rhoda. 
 '^ Is it true, do you think, that he cured a poor 
 labouring man of epilepsy with musk, at a 
 guinea a dose, which he paid for out of his own 
 pocket?" 
 
 " Quite true," said Pamela. " That is to 
 say, the man is not thoroughly cured, for he 
 still has fits sometimes, though not so badly 
 nor so often; but I know Mr. Mildmay gave 
 him the musk at his own expense. The man
 
 Bever Hollow, 167 
 
 belongs to our parish. Stay — there is a lovely- 
 rose ! " 
 
 George here came up to the yomig ladies, 
 whom he greeted with equal deference. " Mrs. 
 Althea sent me out," said he, *^^for the benefit 
 of my health or spirits, I don't exactly know 
 which ; but she is always doing, or trying to do 
 good. Allow me to get that rose for you. Miss 
 Bohun." 
 
 ''Is nobody ill this morning?" said she, 
 gaily. 
 
 '' Well, a poor fellow may take ten minutes' 
 relaxation sometimes, I hope, without any ma- 
 terial sacrifice of his professional duties ; or if 
 I find he cannot, I won't transgress again — (till 
 tlie next time). Will that satisfy you? " 
 
 '' I suppose it must." 
 
 " Will it satisfy you, Miss Hill ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, quite ! — till I am ill and under 
 your care, and find you neglect me."
 
 t68 The Ladies of 
 
 " That shall never happen ! Never ! Witness 
 it, all ye roses and posies ! By the bye, how 
 very late some of Mrs. Althea's flowers are 
 blowing ! — you are making quite a summer 
 nosegay." 
 
 " I would sooner have flowers blow late than 
 early, said Pamela. " I don't like forestalling 
 the seasons." 
 
 ^^ Do you think the seasons are later than 
 they used to be in former times ? " said Rhoda. 
 
 " Yes — no — I have heard people say so." 
 
 '^ The whitethorn we call May," pursued 
 Rhoda, " seldom blows till June, and I have 
 read that formerly white lilies were used in 
 decorating churches on St. John's day ; but 
 now they do not blow till July." 
 
 " Do you not know the reason of that ? '* 
 cried Pamela, springing back from tlie centre 
 of a flower-border, and leaving a very pretty 
 little footprint on the soft mould. " The differ-
 
 Bever Hollow, 169 
 
 ence of style ! The year was set forward fifteen 
 days, when the style was altered, so that the 
 flowers which our old poets speak of as bloom- 
 ing in the middle of May, are in reality not 
 due till the beginning of June ; and so with the 
 other months." 
 
 " I never thought of that," said Rhoda, " nor 
 heard it before. Did you, Mr. Mildmay ? " 
 
 " No," said George. " Miss Bohun is always 
 broaching extraordinary new ideas." 
 
 '' Not heteroclite ones, though," said Pamela. 
 
 " Heteroclite? " repeated Rhoda. 
 
 " Heterodox, she means," explained George, 
 " only that's too common, except for such as 
 I am." 
 
 " That's the worst of living among boys," 
 said Pamela, worrying off a sprig of sweet- 
 briar. " Mamma says sometimes I have had 
 but a boy's education." 
 
 "Oh, she cannot mean that," said Rhoda;
 
 170 The Ladies of 
 
 with an interrogative look, however, towards 
 George. 
 
 '^ No," said George ; " Miss Bohun can do 
 beadwork, and patchwork, and fretwork, and 
 all the other works, like all other young ladies, 
 I believe." 
 
 '^ Fretwork, indeed ! " said Pamela. 
 
 " Well, can't you make people fret? " 
 
 " If I can, I never do." 
 
 ^' How can you say so ? " 
 
 " Why, who?- " said she, turning short upon 
 him, and looking scandalized. He laughed, 
 and did not reply. 
 
 " There, I have completed my nosegay," 
 said Pamela. '^ Shall we go in ? " 
 
 " Oh, take another turn ! " pleaded George. 
 And, at the same moment, the spray of a 
 prickly shrub catching the ribbon of Ehoda's 
 bonnet, he sprang forward, and began to dis- 
 entangle it with great energy.
 
 Bever Hollow, 171 
 
 " Thank you — gently, gently, please," said 
 Rhoda. 
 
 George threw still more ardour into his exer- 
 tions. " I was reading the casket-scene in the 
 Merchant of Venice, last night," said he. " Do 
 you remember those capital lines of the Prince 
 of Arragon ? " And, with a great deal more of 
 theatrical action than the passage required, he 
 hegan to spout — 
 
 ' Let none presume 
 To wear an undesened dignity ! 
 that estates, degrees, and offices 
 "Were not derived corruptly ! and that honour 
 Were purchased by the merit of the wearer.' 
 
 — " For then, don't you see. Miss Hill, / should 
 be parish-doctor instead of Tom Knight? " Then, 
 clasping his hands with vehemence, and step- 
 ping backwards before her, as she advanced, — 
 
 ' How many, then, should cover, that stand bare ? 
 How many be commanded, that command.' 
 
 — ^' isn't it SO, Miss Hill?"
 
 172 T'he Ladies of 
 
 " Indeed, I hardly know," said Khoda, with 
 embarrassment. " I believe I do not quite 
 understand you — " 
 
 "'Who can ? " said Pamela. " What appli- 
 cation' is there? or how do such lines require 
 such violent action? You are laughing at us, 
 I believe, though I don't know why you 
 should ! " 
 
 " I? " exclaimed George, still in heroics, "I 
 dare to laugh at you ? or at you, Miss Hill ? 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Kitty, standing at the win- 
 dow, was saying to her sister, " Whatever can 
 George be about? He's talking to Miss Hill 
 so vehemently ! — " 
 
 " Miss Hill ! " repeated Mrs. Althea, looking 
 up from her book. 
 
 " Clasping his hands like an actor," pursued 
 Mrs. Kitty, " and walking backwards, just in 
 front of her. Oh, he's very eager about some- 
 thing or other, I can tell you — "
 
 Bever Hollow, 173 
 
 "Dear me," said Mrs, Althea. **^And where's 
 Pamela?" 
 
 "Walking behind — close to them though — 
 now, she is saying something, rather in a hufF, 
 I fancy — do you feel sure of her temper, 
 Althea?" 
 
 " O, quite," said Mrs. Althea. 
 " Well, I suspect it's rather warm." 
 "Why, you and I are warm, sometimes, 
 are not we? and yet neither of us thinks 
 the other ill-tempered." 
 Mrs. Kitty laughed. 
 
 "Well, we are rather quick, at times," said 
 she, " and that's the truth on't." 
 
 " Still water is not always the purest or 
 the sweetest," said Mrs. Althea, " and even 
 the sweetest and purest may he ruffled.'''' 
 
 "Aye, that's it with Pamela," said Mrs. 
 Kitty, " sweet and pure as heart can wish, 
 but easily ruffled as you say; and we'll
 
 174 T^he Ladies of 
 
 lay the fault on the winds and not on the 
 waves." 
 
 " yes ! and there are no waves, so to 
 speak — only a dimpling ripple, when the 
 breeze blows np-current." 
 
 "Which it does just now, decidedly," said 
 Mrs. Kitty. "George is saying something 
 that nettles her, or else she thinks he is 
 paying Miss Hill too much attention." 
 
 " She would not be so silly," muttered 
 Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Well, they are all coming in now," said 
 Mrs. Kitty; and, the next minute, George 
 and Ehoda entered talking and laughing, with 
 Pamela just behind them, twisting a vine- 
 tendril round her nosegay ; " Is not that 
 lovely?" said she, as she gave it to Mrs. 
 Althea with a sweet smile. 
 
 " They are lovely in themselves, and you 
 have arranged them beautifully," said Mrs.
 
 Bever Hollow. 175 
 
 Althea, who continued admiring the flowers, 
 and asking questions about them, while Pamela 
 stood beside her, dangling her straw hat by its 
 ribbon: George and Rhoda still continuing 
 their lively chat, into which they had drawn 
 Mrs. Kitty. Pamela looked serious, but not 
 at all cross, and proceeded to arrange the 
 flowers in water. 
 
 George at length started up, declaring that 
 he really dared loiter no longer; and, as he 
 shook hands with Mrs. xVlthea, he gaily said, 
 " You must not lay such traps for me again ! 
 Forest would rate me soundly if he knew how 
 I have been wasting the last half-hour ! " 
 
 And, as he rode ofi", rather a mischievous 
 light sparkled in his eye, and a smile curled 
 his lip, as he thought within himself, "Aha 
 Mrs. Althea! I've set you on a false scent, 
 ma'am, for as wise as you think yourself! " 
 
 Whether Mr. Mildmay were justified in so
 
 176 The Ladies of 
 
 doing, at the price it might cost other people, 
 a jury of elderly ladies may determine. On 
 a grand scale, certainly no; on such a small 
 one, perhaps yes. 
 
 In the evening, the Hill-house party were 
 very quiet. Mrs. Kitty was studying the 
 county paper, Pamela was immersed in a book, 
 and Mrs. Althea lay resting, and revolving 
 many things in her mind. 
 
 All at once, Pamela exclaimed indignantly, 
 " Call these heroines, indeed ! they are a couple 
 of underbred, vulgar girls ! " 
 
 "Heyday! what now?" said Mrs. Kitty, 
 looking up from her paper, "what book have 
 you got hold of?" 
 
 "The Vicar of Wakefield," said Pamela, 
 "Geoffrey has been reading it, and praising 
 it to the skies, so I thought I should like it 
 too; but I have no patience with Olivia and 
 Sophia."
 
 Bever Hollow, 177 
 
 " Times and manners are altered ; " said 
 Mrs. Kitty, returning to the corn-market.. 
 
 "And Sophia is much better than Olivia/' 
 said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Why, her father says so," rejoined Pamela 
 doubtfully ; " but, at the beginning, I don't 
 think there is much to choose between them. 
 'The one vanquished by a single blow, the 
 other by efforts successively repeated.' Efforts, 
 indeed ! — Two girls as young as I am ! " 
 
 "Girls were not educated then as they are 
 now, Pamela," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " I should think not ! How could they be, 
 by such a vulgar, ignorant mother? a woman 
 who could laugh and jeer at this good old 
 respectable Mr. Burchell, and whose economy, 
 even her partial husband said, never made him 
 any richer." 
 
 ''OU Mr. Burchell?" cried Mrs. Kitty. 
 " Why, he was but thirty \ " 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 The Ladies of 
 
 " But he is drawn older," interposed Mrs. 
 Althea, " and his short, dry speech, keeps up 
 the illusion." 
 
 "Thirty? I should think Mr. Glyn must 
 be thirty," said Pamela reflectively. "Don't 
 you, Mrs. Althea?" 
 
 " My love, I never saw him." 
 
 " I've seen him," said Mrs. Kitty, "he is a 
 very handsome man, under thirty, I should say." 
 
 " But, dear Mrs. Kitty, he has two little 
 girls, the eldest of whom must be eight years 
 old at least. Their mother died when the 
 youngest was a baby." 
 
 " Yes, and a very sad afiair it was," said 
 Mrs. Althea, " I remember hearing of it from 
 Mr. Forest. The grandmother has taken care 
 of them ever since." 
 
 " A great charge for her," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " I should think she could have no greater 
 pleasure," said Mrs. Althea.
 
 Bever Hollow, 179 
 
 " I should think so too," said Pamela : " she 
 is a very nice old lady. Papa sees her often." 
 Then, returning to her enemy, the Yicar : '' But, 
 just hear this, Mrs. Althea ! * A suit of momTi- 
 ing has transformed my coquette into a prude, 
 and a new set of ribbons has given her younger 
 sister more than natural vivacity.' 0, stupid, 
 senseless girls ! with their pomades and patches, 
 and washes for the complexion ! I 'm glad their 
 father overturned the pipkin. If Prudence and 
 I were to go on so, what would my father do, 
 I wonder?" 
 
 As one quiet day followed another, Mrs. 
 Althea was pleased to mark that Pamela was 
 gradually throwing off the traces of lassitude 
 and in-itability, and being restored to her 
 cheerful, active self. 
 
 On the Wednesday following Pamela's ar- 
 rival, when her visit had just extended to a 
 week, Mr. Forest again called on Mrs. Althea, 
 n2
 
 i8o 7 he Ladies of 
 
 but took her by surprise by entering from the 
 garden. 
 
 "Well," said he, laying aside his hat and 
 gloves, and looking rather grave ; '* I found 
 somebody in the arbour this time. Guessing 
 that the postern-door might again be open, I 
 tried and found it so, and caught Pamela in the 
 arbour. I might just as well have spared my 
 pains, Mrs. Althea ! She won't hear a word I 
 have to say." 
 
 He looked so hurt, that Mrs. Althea felt con- 
 cerned for him. 
 
 '' Wilful girls must have their way," said 
 she ; " and it seems that Pamela has not quite 
 got over her little fit of perversity yet ; but you 
 know as well, perhaps, as I do, that it is not 
 her natural character to be perverse ; and I am 
 happy to tell you that I really think there is 
 less need of your kind advice now than there 
 was a week ago."
 
 Bever Hollow. i8i 
 
 *' That depends on the nature of the advice," 
 said he, so drjlj, that Mrs. Althea, with a 
 woman's quick instinct, instantly felt something 
 more to be meant than met the ear. What 
 could it be ? Had it anj reference to George ? 
 Had he suspected any unrequited attachment 
 for him, and taken the officious step of warning 
 her that nothing could, would, or ought to come 
 of it ? Mrs. Althea had not leisure to unravel 
 this web at once, for Mr. Forest began to 
 question her about herself; and then to speak 
 of a trying case he was watching; which, for 
 the time, engrossed all her thoughts. 
 
 After he was gone, she did not think again 
 of Pamela till dinner, when the sight of her 
 eyes, looking very red, as if with much crying, 
 fixed her attention. 
 
 " My dear ! '* cried she, startled ; " what's the 
 matter? are you not well ? " 
 
 *' Quite well, thank you," said Pamela, in a
 
 i8o The Ladies of 
 
 but took her by surprise by entering from the 
 garden. 
 
 "Well," said he, laying aside his hat and 
 gloves, and looking rather grave ; " I found 
 somebody in the arbour this time. Guessing 
 that the postern-door might again be open, I 
 tried and found it so, and caught Pamela in the 
 arbour. I might just as well have spared my 
 pains, Mrs. Althea ! She won't hear a word I 
 have to say." 
 
 He looked so hurt, that Mrs. Althea felt con- 
 cerned for him. 
 
 " Wilful girls must have their way," said 
 she ; " and it seems that Pamela has not quite 
 got over her little fit of perversity yet ; but you 
 know as well, perhaps, as I do, that it is not 
 her natural character to be perverse ; and I am 
 happy to tell you that I really think there is 
 less need of your kind advice now than there 
 was a week ago."
 
 Bever Hollow, i8i 
 
 *' That depends on the nature of the advice," 
 said he, so dryly, that Mrs. Althea, with a 
 woman^s quick instinct, instantly felt something 
 more to be meant than met the ear. What 
 could it be ? Had it any reference to George ? 
 Had he suspected any unrequited attachment 
 for him, and taken the officious step of warning 
 her that nothing could, would, or ought to come 
 of it ? Mrs. Althea had not leisure to unravel 
 this web at once, for Mr. Forest began to 
 question her about herself; and then to speak 
 of a trying case he was watching ; which, for 
 the time, engrossed all her thoughts. 
 
 After he was gone, she did not think again 
 of Pamela till dinner, when the sight of her 
 eyes, looking very red. as if with much crying, 
 fixed her attention. 
 
 *' My dear ! " cried she, startled ; " what's the 
 matter? are you not well ? " 
 
 " Quite well, thank you," said Pamela, in a
 
 1 82 T^he Ladies of 
 
 broken voice, and retreating towards the dining- 
 parlour. 
 
 " Dinner ! dinner ! " cried Mrs. Kitty, run- 
 ning down stairs, and rapping the door with 
 her knuckles; and Pamela hastily obeyed the 
 summons, apparently glad to escape any more 
 questioning. Mrs. Althea meditated much over 
 her boiled mutton-chop, and finally arranged a 
 nice little way of resuming the subject ; but 
 when Pamela reappeared, it was in her straw 
 hat, and she said Mrs. Kitty had commissioned 
 her to carry some tea and sugar to a poor sick 
 person in a distant cottage. 
 
 It was Mr. Bohun's evening, and when he 
 saw Mrs. Althea, she took a letter from her 
 pocket and silently gave it him to read ; watch- 
 ing his face as he did so, with a smile. It was 
 from Mr. Heathcote, in other words, "the 
 Squire,^^ promising to pay Fulk's reasonable ex- 
 penses at Oxford for three years. Mr. Bohun,
 
 Bever Hollow, 183 
 
 as soon as he had run through it, warmly 
 grasped her hand. 
 
 "It will be the making of the boy!" cried 
 he. " How much good jou do on your sofa ! " 
 
 ''Not much," replied she, deeply gratified, 
 " but I am thankful to be permitted to do a 
 little. The Squire is going to do a good deal." 
 
 "Pamela, read that!" cried her father, 
 holding out the letter to her, as she entered the 
 room, and then taking her in his arms — " Why, 
 my girl, you are pale and heavy-eyed still." 
 
 " She has not been so till to-day," said Mrs. 
 Althea. " We thought her wonderfully im- 
 proved ; but just now she is no credit to us." 
 
 As Pamela^s eye darted over the letter, how- 
 ever, her brilliant colour and beautifid smile 
 returned. 
 
 " Dear, dear Mrs. Althea ! " cried she, throw- 
 ing her arms round her; "how can we ever 
 thank you enough ? "
 
 i86 T^he Ladies of 
 
 hanging over my head. I believe I guess what 
 it is." 
 
 " Then there is the less need of my telling," 
 said he, smiling. 
 
 She was going to answer him rather impa- 
 tiently, when Hannah entered with the tea- 
 kettle, preceded by Mrs. Kitty ; and with a sigh, 
 and another piteous look at him, she gave up 
 the subject for the time. Nor was it resumed, 
 except to be shortly and imperatively, though 
 kindly, broken off by him, at the close of the 
 evening, when he wished her good night, with 
 " My love, you know that what your mamma 
 and I say is law. You shall know all in good 
 time." 
 
 And Pamela went to bed, to steep her pillow 
 with tears. 
 
 " This will never do," thought Mrs. Althea, 
 the next morning, when she saw Pamela's red 
 eyes, and heard Mrs. Kitty charge her with
 
 Bever Hollow. 187 
 
 having been reading in bed ; which was neither 
 assented to nor denied. " Mr. Bohun means all 
 for the best, but it is all for the worst ; suspense 
 wears us more than anything, and I must get it 
 ended." 
 
 " Come, Pamela, what is it ? " said she, in 
 her gentlest tone, as soon as they were by 
 themselves. 
 
 " What is what?" said Pamela, starting. 
 
 " The trouble in hand," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Ah, there are so many!" said she, snatch- 
 ing up her work. " All this stitching must 
 come out." 
 
 " Thus one trouble entails another," said 
 Mrs. Althea. " Many people hate undoing their 
 own work. Give it me ; I will pick it out 
 for you." 
 
 '' Oh, no, thank you — I must be doing some- 
 thing;" and, sighing, she set to work very 
 industriously.
 
 1 88 The Ladies of 
 
 " A heavy sigh for a few false stitches," said 
 Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Ah, it was not for them ! " said Pamela. 
 
 "For what then?" 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Althea, if I dared, I would say 
 you were very pertinacious !" 
 
 " And so you do say, in that pretty peri- 
 phrasis ! Well, I mean to be pertinacious, till 
 I know what vexes you. Nothing ever vexes 
 me so, dear, as seeing those vexed whom I 
 love.'' 
 
 " It is not vexing, exactly," said Pamela, 
 with tears starting into her eyes, " but I don't 
 see my way clear.'' 
 
 " That happens to every one, at some time or 
 other, my dear Pamela ; and a very great trial 
 it is." 
 
 " Oh, it is, indeed ! You see, we are such 
 a large family." 
 
 " ' Like as the arrows in the hand of a giant,
 
 Bever Hollow. 1 89 
 
 even so are the young children,' " repeated Mrs. 
 Althea. " * Happj is the man that hath his 
 quiver full of them.' " 
 
 " If he has plenty of money to bring them 
 up on," said Pamela; "otherwise, I'm afraid, 
 they are arrows that pierce him." 
 
 " Not if they are good, obedient, and loving," 
 said Mrs. Althea. *' A great responsibility, of 
 course, they are ; but yet they bring their joys 
 with their troubles. I'll answer for it, your 
 mother never wished to change with Kitty or 
 me ; and if you were to marry, her heartfelt 
 desire would be to see you the mother of a fine 
 family.'* 
 
 *' Like Mrs. Primrose," said Pamela, laugh- 
 ing : — " ' Well, upon my word, Mrs. Primrose, 
 you have the finest children in the whole 
 country!' " 
 
 " I am sure that might be said to Mrs. Bohun 
 without compliment," said Mrs. Althea.
 
 1 90 The Ladies of 
 
 " And then mamma ought to say, * Aye, 
 neighbour, they're as heaven made them — hand- 
 some enough, if good enough ; for handsome is 
 that handsome does!' and bid us hold up our 
 heads!" 
 
 " You see, that book has taken hold of you, 
 after all, as works of real genius always do." 
 
 " Oh, the book is a pretty book — I like it 
 very much ; but I do think all the women in it 
 vulgar." 
 
 " Well, but to return to the matter in hand ; 
 I am surprised to hear an affectionate girl like 
 you grumbling at having so many brothers and 
 sisters." 
 
 " That may be because I am an affectionate 
 daughter, Mrs. Althea." 
 
 " You do not dislike children in a general way, 
 then, and consider them pests and plagues ? ^' 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am very fond of them. You 
 know, the baby, while we had one, was seldom
 
 Bever Hollow, 191 
 
 out of mj arms ; and now that they are getting 
 older, and can talk, and play, and say funny 
 things, and learn lessons, I find them even still 
 more interesting. Indeed, mamma thinks I 
 have a gift for teaching; — it is only because 
 I love it." 
 
 " Love teaching your younger brothers and 
 sisters?" 
 
 " Yes, and other children too, in an inferior 
 degree, though poor children are so dirty. Do 
 you know, Mrs. Althea, I should like to be a 
 governess ; only I'm afraid mamma would not 
 like to part with me, and could not very well 
 spare me. The thought has often crossed me, 
 only I have not knovm how to bring it out. It 
 sprang up when papa said yesterday evening, 
 ' your mother and Prudence must do without 
 you some of these days.' I thought he was 
 looking forward to my working for them after 
 his death. But I don't want to wait for that."
 
 192 The Ladies of 
 
 And she put her head down on her arms, and 
 cried bitterly. 
 
 " Why should you?" said Mrs. Althea feel- 
 ingly, " why should you? " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Althea, do ask them to let me gQ 
 out at once, will you ? and w^ork now instead of 
 then? while I am young, and strong, and 
 cheerful. Perhaps both of them may live the 
 longer for it, instead of wearing themselves out 
 as they are doing now. Put it to them so that 
 they can't help seeing it in the right light, and 
 don't let me hear anything about it till they 
 say yes, for I'm weak and can't stand it! " 
 
 " Certainly I will, since you wish it, though 
 I am quite surprised you find the subject other 
 than an easy one." 
 
 "I am too much interested in it. Directly 
 I try to begin, something swells in my throat. 
 And if we were to attempt talking it over, I 
 know I should cry ; and there would be the end
 
 Bever Hollow. 193 
 
 of it ! For they would think 1 could not 
 bear to leave home, and so would not let 
 me go ! " 
 
 " Well, Pamela, but what kind of situation 
 do you feel equal to ? You would not like one 
 in the West Indies, for instance ! " 
 
 " Surely not." 
 
 "Nor yet at the Land's End? " 
 
 " No, not beyond reach of a messenger from 
 home in case of any emergency. At any rate, 
 not beyond a day's post." 
 
 "And yet, being near home and not in it, 
 might produce a hankering." 
 
 " Am I hankering now ? " 
 
 " No, but this is very different ; you are here 
 only for a little while." 
 
 " Well, ' Jacob served Laban seven years for 
 Rachel, and they seemed unto him as seven 
 days, for the love he bare unto her.' What 
 strong affections he must have had, Mrs.Althea ! 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 ^h^ Ladies of 
 
 How happy those seven years must have been to 
 him ! And I feel as if seven years of industry 
 might seem but as seven days to me, for the 
 love I bear to my father and mother." 
 
 " And you will be quite young, even then. 
 Quite young enough to marry." 
 
 " I can't bear marriage to be put into con- 
 nexion with this question," said Pamela with 
 disgust. 
 
 "How old would you like your pupils to 
 be?" said Mrs. Althea. "Twelve or four- 
 teen?" 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Althea, consider ! — / am only 
 eighteen." 
 
 " Ten or eight, then, suppose ; and not too 
 many of them." 
 
 " No — Three little girls between six and ten, 
 I think I could manage." 
 
 " Three docile little girls." 
 
 " Pd make them docile ! "
 
 Bever Hollow. 195 
 
 " Humph ! Perhaps you would prefer some 
 who require breaking in ! " 
 
 " No, I should not prefer it ; but I would not 
 mind it." 
 
 "Now we are getting into a ring — Three 
 little girls, or boys ?'' 
 
 " I would not mind one of the three being a 
 boy such as Eoger." 
 
 " Between the ages of six and ten ; whether 
 docile or otherwise — Within a day's post of 
 home. Salary — " 
 
 " Anything I could get, to begin with." 
 
 " Salary no object at first, so much as a com- 
 fortable home. Well, I think that might do. 
 Let us consider all the eligible families within 
 our ken. There are no children at the Hall . . ." 
 
 "Nor at Beechenshade, nor the Hollies." 
 
 " Humph ! — Bever Hollow — I don't know 
 the Glyns." 
 
 " But papa does," cried Pamela with sudden 
 animation, '' and there are two nice little girls 
 02
 
 196 The Ladies of 
 
 there, who would suit me exactly. But I sup- 
 pose they donH want a governess yet." And 
 she sighed. 
 
 ^^ John Twiddy has brought you this parcel, 
 miss,'' said Hannah, coming in, ^^ and he waits 
 to know if there's anything he can take back for 
 you to the Kectory." 
 
 " Oh yes ! " cried Pamela, and she started up 
 and ran up-stairs. 
 
 ^^ Let John Twiddy come in here when I 
 ring,'' said Mrs. Althea ; and taking up her pen, 
 she wrote the following little note : — 
 
 " Dear Mr. Bohun, 
 " I as nearly as possible let out the secret. 
 Do let me tell the child all. She is quite pre- 
 pared for it, and nothing is so injurious to the 
 health as suspense. With kindest regards to 
 
 Mrs, Bohun, 
 
 " Yours always truly, 
 
 "Althea Hall."
 
 Bever Ho/low, 197 
 
 Then she rang the bell for the butter-badger, 
 and had a chat with him, till Pamela came in 
 with her packet for home. 
 
 In the afternoon, George Mildmay called, and 
 remained about twice as long as usual ; which 
 made Mrs. Althea arrive privately at the con- 
 clusion, that however much he liked the old 
 lady, he liked the young lady more. 
 
 George mentioned that he had been invited, 
 rather late in the day, to join the Hall dinner- 
 party, and did not seem much flattered by the 
 impression that it was only to fill a gap.
 
 198 T^he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sifting, 
 
 Retirement is, I believe, the best state for the mind 
 of man ; solitude, almost the worst. In complete soli- 
 tude the eye wants objects, the heart wants attach- 
 ments, the understanding wants reciprocation. Where 
 the intercourse is very unequal, society is something 
 even worse than solitude. — Hannah Moke. 
 
 "11 /TRS. Altliea lay silently cogitating for some 
 -*-*-^ time after George's departure, and at 
 length said — 
 
 " What can have made you take up such 
 strong opinions against matrimony, Pamela?" 
 
 " I ? " said Pamela, colouring very deeply and 
 suddenly ; " who has made you think so ? " 
 
 " That is no answer." 
 
 " I suppose I owe the question to Mr. Forest," 
 said Pamela, with pique.
 
 Bever Hollow, 199 
 
 " He had nothing to do with it/^ 
 
 " More goose, then, I, for supposing he had," 
 muttered Pamela, 
 
 '' You suggested it to me yourself. When I 
 said you would he quite young enough to 
 marry, at five and twenty, you said, ' I can't 
 bear marriage to be brought into connexion 
 with this question ! " 
 
 "Not as a matter of business, I meant," said 
 Pamela. '' Dear Mrs. Althea, it argued any- 
 thing but a low opinion of mandage, which I 
 think far too sacred a thing to be considered 
 merely as affording a more or less comfortable 
 home than governessing." 
 
 " Why, yes ; that was not the light in which 
 I had any intention of viewing it. There are 
 such things, I suppose you admit, as exceedingly 
 happy marriages.^^ 
 
 " Certainly ; and if I were so silly as to 
 be hoping much for one of that kind, I
 
 200 The Ladies of 
 
 should think it a pity to wait to five-and- 
 twenty.^' 
 
 " But, shut up in a school-room, you see you 
 will have no chance of one as long as you are a 
 governess/' 
 
 ^^ Certainly not : I have thought of that, as 
 much as it needs to be thought of, which is 
 very little; but it has not deterred me from 
 taking my part. If God chooses me to marry, 
 I shall, at his fit time and no other." 
 
 '^ You speak quite like a predestinarian.'^ 
 
 ^^ However, I speak truth.'' 
 
 " And common-sense, too. How well would 
 it be for many girls, my dear Pamela, if they 
 took your way of considering the question, and 
 only busied themselves with their immediate 
 concerns ; remembering that ' Duties are ours, 
 events are God's ! ' " 
 
 " Oh yes, it puts every care for the future to 
 rest ! "
 
 Bever Hollow, 201 
 
 ^^ Still, if you remained at liotnej it would 
 afford many opportunities of seeing and being 
 seen/^ 
 
 "How ca7i you talk in that way, Mrs.Althea? 
 Seen by whom ? By young farmer Hawthorn, 
 and old farmer Grubbs, and Mr. Spitchcock, 
 and Kalph Hieover, and Peter Watts ! '^ 
 
 " Not a very eligible list of admirers, cer- 
 tainly. Can't you think of any one more 
 respectable?" 
 
 ''No/' 
 
 " I don't think you are speaking the truth." 
 
 " I suppose you are thinking of Mr. Tom- 
 kins," said Pamela, blushing a little. '' He 
 would not do." 
 
 " I never heard of Mr. Tomkins. Come, you 
 must have had some better admirer than that." 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Althea, how you do teaze one !" 
 
 " Come, Pamela, think ! " 
 
 "I do believe you know something all this
 
 202 The Ladies of 
 
 while;" said Pamela, with still deepening 
 colour. " What a shame ! '^ 
 
 "What is a shame?'' 
 
 "Why, for any one to tell you a thing he 
 promised to say nothing about/' 
 
 "Nobody has done so. I was only guess- 
 ing." 
 
 " Shame on you^ then, Mrs. Althea ! " 
 
 " Yes, I was guessing ; and you showed me 
 there was something to guess. However, 
 Pamela, I force no confidence. I have nothing 
 but your welfare and happiness at heart, my 
 love." 
 
 " Don't talk in that way, please !" 
 
 "I will not. Everything shall be between 
 us as before; as if this subject had never 
 arisen." 
 
 "That cannot be, now," said Pamela, rue- 
 fully, after some minutes' silence. "You 
 have found out, or think you have found out, a
 
 Bever Hollow. 203 
 
 secret, and you cannot forget having done so, I 
 fear, though you may say nothing about it." 
 
 " Perhaps not." 
 
 " Well, then, dear Mrs. Althea, let me tiy to 
 tell you. But, in the first place, don't you 
 consider, that providing I devote myself for the 
 sake of my family, the way of my doing so may 
 be left to myself?" 
 
 "Not if you think of devoting yom'self like 
 Curtius, by leaping into a gulf; — in other 
 words, by anything tantamount to a moral or 
 mental suicide." 
 
 " And a self-sacrifice by marriage would be 
 that very thing!" 
 
 " Yes, I think it would." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! Now I can speak out. 
 Good, well-meaning Mr. Forest, considering my 
 father and mother encumbered, I fancy, by too 
 large a family, has thought he might relieve 
 them of one responsibility at least, by making
 
 204 ^f^^ Ladies of 
 
 me Mrs. Forest. Now, you see, Mrs. Althea, 
 he is not quite so old as Robin Grey ; nay, lie is 
 rather what ladies call a popular, personable, 
 middle-aged man ; and in any other light I like 
 him very well ; but in this light I can't endure 
 him!^' 
 
 " I should think not!" cried Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " Oh ! thank you for saying so ! " 
 
 " No, Pamela ; if it had been George Mild- 
 may . , . J^ 
 
 ^^Mr. Mildmay is nothing to me," said 
 Pamela, blushing ; " he has nothing whatever 
 to do with the question. We now need say no 
 more about it. You have entirely relieved me 
 by what you have said — I feared you would 
 think me acting selfishly and imprudently in 
 refusing what people call 'so good a settle- 
 ment ;* but, since I have you on my side, I will 
 tell papa and mamma that I am ready to go out 
 as soon as a good situation offers."
 
 Bever Hollow, 205 
 
 " A good situation will offer, depend upon 
 it," said Mrs. Althea, sagacionslj. 
 
 " You look as if you had one in petto'' said 
 Pamela, laughing. ^' Be that as it may, I shall 
 let things take their course." And she went 
 away, singing.
 
 2o6 The Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Decision, 
 
 Where'er this garden-fence is wound. 
 So subtly are our eyes beguiled, 
 We see not nor suspect a bound. 
 No more than in some forest wild. 
 The sight is free as air ! or crost 
 Only by art in nature lost. 
 
 Apt emblem, for reproof of pride. 
 This delicate inclosiu-e shows, 
 Of modest kindness, that would hide 
 The firm protection she bestows : 
 Of manners, like its unseen fence 
 Ensuring peace and innocence ! 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 *' TTJAMELA, you have a pretty voice," said 
 -* Mrs. Kitty at tea-time ; '' it only wants 
 a little cultivation."
 
 Bever Hollow. 207 
 
 " What it can't have, it must continue to 
 want," said Pamela. 
 
 ** Yes, but, my dear, you need not say ' it 
 can't have,' with Aprilli's Solfeggi in the 
 house and me to give you a lesson. I will 
 hunt up the book presently, and open the 
 piano." 
 
 "I should not be surprised if you found a 
 mouse's nest in it," said Mrs. Althea, smiling. 
 
 "Nonsense, Althea! As if the furniture 
 was never dusted ! ^^ 
 
 "I can see a cobweb over the key-hole, 
 at any rate." 
 
 " Scandal, I'm sure," cried Mrs. Kitty, start- 
 ing up, and flying at it with her pocket-hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 " Take care, take care ! " cried Pamela, run- 
 ning to the rescue. "I'll help to move the 
 things off it, Mrs. Kitty. Sure enough, there 
 runs a spider. What shall I do with this glass
 
 20 8 The Ladies of 
 
 globe? And this case of Brazilian beetles? 
 Pretty creatures ! I never saw them in a full 
 light before. How they glitter ! — I'll move the 
 books, Mrs. Kitty; you'll be smothered in 
 dust.^^ 
 
 " There's none to speak of/^ persisted Mrs. 
 Kitty. 
 
 " Enough to sneeze at," said Mrs. Althea, as 
 Pamela gave two sudden sneezes. 
 
 ''My dear, you've a cold in your head,^' 
 said Mrs. Kitty. ''Why will you sit in the 
 arbour so often?" 
 
 " I don't know that I shall, any more, 
 Mrs. Kitty. My associations with it are not 
 pleasant." 
 
 "Now for it, then," said Mrs. Kitty; 
 "where's the key?" 
 
 "It only sticks—" said Mrs. Althea. "Put 
 out a little strength." 
 
 "It's locked ^^^ said Mrs. Kitty positively;
 
 Sever Hollow. 209 
 
 putting out considerable strength at the same 
 time. She nearly fell backwards as the piano 
 flew open. Pamela received her in her arms. 
 
 " Mj goodness, what's this ? " cried Mrs. 
 Kitty, snatching up something withinside. It 
 was a half-eaten apple, very mouldy. She 
 burst into a fit of laughter. " I remember very 
 well," said she, " about a year ago, — no, it 
 could not be so long ago as that ! — I was eating 
 an apple, when I saw Sir John Tyree coming- 
 in; and having no better resource at hand, I 
 popped it into the piano, intending to finish it 
 when he was gone.^' 
 
 "Ah, murder will out,^^ said Mrs. Althea, 
 highly amused. '' Sir John's last visit was 
 more than twelve months ago.^^ 
 
 " My dear Althea, it could not be so, because 
 — well, it don't matter. Where there's no 
 wrong, sh^me needn't last long. Or, if you 
 like it better, where there's no blame, there 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 T^he ha dies of 
 
 need be no sliame. Come along, Pamela; 
 we're quite clean now and fit for immediate 
 service. Here's the book, — follow my lead. 
 Now then; begin with Do. Fie! what a 
 jingle ! " 
 
 In fact, the piano being miserably out of 
 tune, besides having lost several strings, the 
 first chord played by Mrs. Kitty's strong 
 fingers produced a crash which sent Mrs. 
 Althea's hands to her ears, and made her 
 shake with laughter. 
 
 "Kitty, you'll be the death of me,^' said 
 she. " I really cannot stand that.^^ 
 
 "Where's the tuning-fork?^' said Mrs. 
 Kitty. " However, tuning a piano is always 
 rather trying to the nerves, and here seem a 
 good many strings broken; so I believe we 
 may as well leave it alone, this time. But 
 really, Pamela, this has in its day been a 
 capital instrument.'^
 
 Bever Hollow, 211 
 
 "Ah, like its mistress/^ said Mrs. Althea 
 with a sigh and a smile — " some good tones, 
 a pleasant touch, once upon a time; but that 
 time has long past/^ 
 
 " No, it has not," said Pamela. 
 
 " She's fishing for a compliment," said Mrs. 
 Kitty. " Don't humour her." 
 
 Mrs. Althea, however, had been set afloat in 
 a sea of what John Bunyan called "similitudes," 
 and she went on stringing them together, with- 
 out minding what was said. 
 
 ^^ Neither of them were beauties," said she, 
 " and it was not every one that could bring out 
 their best tones — sometimes they were alto- 
 gether out of tune, and jarred sadly — at other 
 times, a single key would go dumb, and it was 
 of no use to hammer on it. Now and then, 
 they would get rubbed up and fresh strung, and 
 come out quite strong at Christmas parties and 
 family festivities ; but they never were brilliant, 
 p2
 
 2 1 a T^he Ladies of 
 
 after all, and were best adapted for * a brave 
 tune set to solemn words,' ' psalms, and hymns, 
 and spiritual songs.' The last time, however, 
 that I touched the keys of that old instrument, 
 I thought its tones were fuller, mellower, and 
 sweeter than ever. O that it may be so with 
 mine." 
 
 A short silence ensued; broken by Mrs. 
 Kitty's exclaiming, " Come, Pamela, do read 
 us something, and let it be instructive, child ! '' 
 
 " Kitty, does not Pamela remind you of 
 Kneller's picture of aunt Diana ? " said Mrs. 
 Althea. 
 
 "I protest, now you name it, she certainly 
 does," said Mrs. Kitty. " If she had but the 
 shepherdess' hat." 
 
 '' That would be the hat, not the face," said 
 Mrs. Althea. 
 
 *'But I have an old cheiTy-coloured sacque 
 of aunt Diana's in my curiosity-box," continued
 
 Bever Hollow. 2 1 3 
 
 Mrs. Kitty, " and I declare Hannah shall bring 
 it down ; and I will dress up Pamela, and make 
 her look as like aunt Diana as one t^^ to 
 another." 
 
 " Aye, do," said Mrs. Althea ; and under 
 Mrs. Kitty's auspices, Hannah, with one or two 
 grunts of dissatisfaction, brought down the 
 curiosity-trunk, and thumped it down on the 
 rug, within an inch of Pamela's feet. Pamela 
 gave an amused look, and retreated as grace- 
 fully as if she had learnt to dance. 
 
 This trunk proved worthy of its name. It 
 was full, to repletion, of curiosities; and each 
 had its pedigree; so that it was a good while 
 before the dressing-up took place. First, there 
 were some wonderfully yellow fine laces and 
 muslins ; then the sacque ; then a chintz gown 
 and coats ; then a black silk calash ; then, a 
 mode cloak. — Now, a large Indian fan ; then, a 
 pair of high-heeled shoes ; sundry roUs of faded
 
 214 ^^^^ Ladies of 
 
 ribbons ; stockings with scarlet clocks ; mittens 
 that drew up to the elbow ; an old sweet-bag, 
 that only smelt of snufF; an etui, a little muff, 
 a black velvet half-mask trimmed with lace, 
 that had really been used at a masquerade ! 
 Pamela's only disappointment was that there 
 was no hoop. 
 
 They were all very merry, talking and laugh- 
 ing, and Pamela was just equipped like the 
 bride in Marriage-a-la-Mode, when Mrs. Althea 
 cried " What's that ? " and turned pale. 
 
 Mrs. Kitty repeated, ''What?" and turned 
 red. 
 
 A man's voice was heard at the front door. 
 He was saying to Hannah, 
 
 " I was afraid they would think it was at 
 Collington." 
 
 "It's Mr. Mildmay!" ejaculated Pamela, 
 with a dismayed look at her friends ; and 
 sweeping up her ot\ti habiliments from the
 
 Bever Hollow, 215 
 
 floor, she cast them into Mrs. Kitty's curtained 
 recess, just as George put his head in at the 
 door. 
 
 "May I come in?" said he, looking round 
 rather curiously, but without seeing Pamela — 
 " They are burning weeds out beyond Platchet, 
 and it looks so exactly in the direction of Col- 
 lington that — " 
 
 " Collington ! " cried Pamela. 
 
 " Bless my heart ! " exclaimed he, with a 
 start. Then, after an amazed look which made 
 them all laugh : " Upon my word, Miss Bohun, 
 said he, " the Mildmays have never liked being 
 frightened; and really at first I didn't know 
 whether you were a ghost or a guy ! " 
 
 "Why, did not you know I was staying 
 here?" said Pamela, looking provoked at his 
 stupidity. " Where 's the fire ? " 
 
 '' See ! " said he, going to the front window, 
 and drawing back the curtains. There was a
 
 2 1 6 T^he Ladies of 
 
 lurid, red glare towards the horizon, against a 
 black sky. 
 
 " It does look fearful ! " said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 '' And very much as if it were at Collington," 
 said Pamela, very gravely. " Thank you very 
 much, Mr. Mildmay, for coming to tell me — us, 
 I mean. There ! how it blazes up ! It is very 
 awful-looking. You are quite sure it is not 
 near the rectory ? " 
 
 " Quite." 
 
 " There, now it is gone out quite suddenly! " 
 said Mrs. Althea. Turning her head, she saw 
 George was looking intently, not towards the 
 fire, but at Pamela. 
 
 " There is surely," said he, catching Mrs. 
 Althea' s eye, " something out of the common 
 in Miss Bohun's appearance to-night." 
 
 "Aye, I'm going to a masquerade," said 
 Pamela, laughing, and putting the mask over 
 her face.
 
 Bever Hollow, 217 
 
 ''With Mr. Bohun's approval, of course," 
 said George, very gi-avelj. 
 
 "Why, you can't believe me serious ! " cried 
 Pamela, indignantly. 
 
 " Then why should you believe me so ? " said 
 he, looking much amused. '' Hallo, I nearly 
 stumbled over this trunk — I would rather set 
 other people's bones than my own." 
 
 " Hannah has put it there, just on purpose 
 for people to stumble over, one would think," 
 said Mrs. Kitty, dragging it out of the way. 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Kitty ; I'm off. 
 I only looked in to prevent an alarm." 
 
 " And thereby occasioned one, Mr. George ! 
 for Althea verily thought you were a house- 
 breaker, and turned as white as death ; whereas, 
 the shutters being shut, and she sleeping at 
 the back of the house, we should never have 
 known of the bonfire, sir, if you had not 
 told us."
 
 2 1 8 The Ladies of 
 
 " Hum ! then I seem to have been rather 
 officious," said George. 
 
 "Oh no, indeed!" said Pamela, "I assure 
 you I feel grateful to you if no one else does ; 
 for my window faces the fire, and I always look 
 out before I go to bed." 
 
 " Miss Bohun, upon my word, you look very 
 
 peculiar, and charming, and so forth, in 
 
 that comical dress." 
 
 Pamela did not say a word, but looked a 
 little put out, and lighted a candle, as if she 
 were going away to change her costume. 
 
 " No, don't go," said George, taking it out of 
 her hand, and using the extinguisher, "for I 
 must." 
 
 "No, don't," said Mrs. Kitty; "but stay to 
 supper, for there's a little meat pie." 
 
 " What sort of meat, Mrs. Kitty?" 
 
 " Yeal, sir ; with shreds of ham, hard eggs, and 
 a delicate crust; since you are so very inquisitive."
 
 Bever Hollow. 219 
 
 " These are the things ladies eat among 
 themselves," groaned George. " No wonder 
 they are so often on our books ! Well, Mrs. 
 Kitty, it is not every meat pie that I would 
 trust myself to eat at this time of night, — but 
 since I know the lady that made it, and — being 
 veal, not pork, you see, — and for a few other 
 considerations, — I think I'll be guided by your 
 advice, and stay to try it." 
 
 Pamela looked amazed, and then amused. 
 " What are you going to do with your horse ? " 
 said she. 
 
 " Do you particularly wish to know, Miss 
 Bohun?" 
 
 " Why, it is not a secret, is it ? " 
 
 " To gratify you, then, I will tell you that I 
 stabled him before I came in." 
 
 '^Then you meant to stay!" exclaimed 
 Pamela. 
 
 Mrs. Althea laughed till she was exhausted.
 
 220 The Ladies of 
 
 " Pamela ! " said Mrs. Kittj, triumphantly ; 
 " he scented the pie ! " 
 
 The next morning, Mrs. Kitty challenged 
 Pamela to help her move all her geraniums into 
 the sun, and was accoutring herself in her 
 gardening-trim, which was convenient, but not 
 becoming, when she exclaimed — 
 
 "Who can this smart man be, riding up 
 to the gate ? Pm not fit to be seen, so I shall 
 decamp. Come along, Pamela." 
 
 Mrs. Althea thought Pamela might as well 
 have remained, but she followed her leader 
 before there was time to say so ; and Mrs. 
 Althea had not spent two minutes in specu- 
 lating who the stranger might be, when Mr. 
 Glyn was announced and shown in. 
 
 His address was pleasant and prepossessing. 
 He apologized for calling, and for his mother^s 
 not having called long before, as soon as she 
 had heard of Mrs. Althea^s being unable to
 
 Bever Hollow, 221 
 
 leave the house ; but they had understood that 
 she had so large a circle of friends and acquaint- 
 ance, comprising the best society in the county, 
 that in her state of health the intrusion of 
 strangers could hardly be acceptable. 
 
 Mrs. Althea replied she was always glad to 
 see those who took any interest in her, whenever 
 she was well enough ; and that of late she had 
 been much more free from pain. 
 
 Mr. GljTQ hoped it gave her friends reason to 
 look forward to her recovery. His mother 
 would be very glad to wait upon her, though 
 she called upon few. She was healthy for her 
 time of life, but not very locomotive — perhaps 
 not very sociable. 8he found her almost exclu- 
 sive occupation within the house, and in looking 
 after her two little grand-daughters, who were 
 now becoming almost too much for her. 
 
 Mrs. Althea thought that Mrs. Glyn would 
 probably find great relief in committing them
 
 222 The Ladies of 
 
 to tlie charge of a thoroughly well-principled, 
 good-humoured governess. Children could 
 hardly be too early removed from the influence 
 of servants ; and yet their high spirits, which it 
 was a pity to curb, were frequently the occasion 
 of more noise than a person advanced in years 
 could comfortably bear. 
 
 Mr. Glyn said, " Precisely." That was just 
 his mother's case. He could not bear to see her 
 suffering from his little girls' innocent merri- 
 ment ; and yet they were now beyond the 
 nursery. He had suggested a governess to his 
 mother : she had at first demrn'red ; then enter- 
 tained the idea; but was doubtful of finding 
 one sufficiently cheerful, and yet steady. She 
 had spoken of it to the Eeverend Mr. Bohun ; 
 and Mr. Bohun had thought it might be dif- 
 ficult, but not hopeless, to find such a young 
 person, and had promised to bear it in mind. 
 Afterwards, it had occurred to Mrs. Glyn, that
 
 Bever Hollow. 223 
 
 as Mr. Bohun's emoluments were far inferior to 
 his merits and to the size of his family, it might 
 possibly be desirable to him to place out one of 
 his own daughters in a quiet, respectable family ; 
 but she felt some delicacy in opening the ques- 
 tion, as he already knew her want, and had not 
 suggested its supply. However, he had met 
 Mr. Bohun that morning, scarcely an hour ago ; 
 and Mr. Bohun had himself entered on the sub- 
 ject with great frankness, and said how much 
 pleasure it would give Mrs. Bohun and himself, 
 if their daughter should be permitted to under- 
 take the care of the two little girls. 
 
 " I immediately caught at the offer," said 
 Mr. Glyn; " and, as it then appeared that Miss 
 Bohun herself had never been spoken to on the 
 subject, but that it was likely she would give it 
 a favourable hearing, especially under your in- 
 fluence, I thought I would ride over here, and 
 broach it to her or to you myself. Her father
 
 224 '^^^^ Ladies of 
 
 said we should find she had had but an old- 
 fashioned sort of education — the education of 
 circumstances; but I told him we could allow 
 for that." 
 
 " I have lived long enough," said Mrs. Althea, 
 " to learn that in many cases the education of 
 circumstances is the best." 
 
 " In what way, may I ask, have you learnt 
 that?" saidMr.Glyn. 
 
 *' Well, in the first place, I was left much to 
 myself as a child; and I now find that what 
 I taught myself, or what I learnt accidentally or 
 providentially, under strong impulse, has been 
 best remembered, and most useful. To be self- 
 taught, or taught by snatches, is a wonderful 
 advantage, counterbalanced, in some degree, of 
 course, by subordinate disadvantages." 
 
 " To an ardent, inquiring disposition, they 
 may, perhaps, be subordinate," said Mr. Glyn, 
 doubtfully.
 
 Bever Hollow, 225 
 
 '' Perhaps siicli an irregular course is less 
 favourable to the morals than to the intellect," 
 said Mrs. Althea. " TVe do not so naturally 
 seek God as seek knowledge." 
 
 " There's deep truth in that," said he, quickly. 
 " But Miss Bohun would, doubtless, have the 
 best of religious education from her father. I 
 have no fears in that direction." 
 
 " You need have none," said Mrs. Althea. 
 *' And in finding her a true Christian, only think 
 how much that includes ! Christianity teaches 
 the finest manners ; for it inculcates true gentle- 
 ness, it represses vulgarity, it insists on pm-ity 
 and on truth. Were I a father or a mother, 
 I should think more of these graces than of 
 a certain amount of music, Italian, and ' the use 
 of the globes.' " 
 
 " Besides, my little girls will not want much 
 in that way yet,^^ said Mr. Glyn. " An intel- 
 ligent young woman may easily keep ahead of 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 2 26 The Ladies of 
 
 tlicm for some time. 1 am inclined to think 
 tliat too much is generally attempted in modern 
 education." 
 
 " It attempts at once too much and too little," 
 said Mrs. Althea. " It often ignores common 
 sense, imagination, feeling, and health, — reve- 
 rence, and implicit, affectionate obedience." 
 
 Mr. Glyn laughed at Mrs. Althea's list of 
 evils. " I believe there is but too much truth in 
 what you say," returned he ; " and, for my part, 
 as I certainly don't aspire to make my girls 
 professors, I shall be content to see them ac- 
 quiring solid good for some years to come, with- 
 out too impatiently hastening them to school 
 for accomplishments; especially as I shall not 
 readily part with my merry little playmates." 
 
 " Why should you?" said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 ^^ Oh, boys are pushed on more at school, and 
 I suppose the same holds good with girls." 
 
 " Ah, that pushing !" said Mrs. Althea, smiling.
 
 Bever Hollow. 227 
 
 ^' You don't approve of it ? Well, there's no 
 need in some cases. My little Mab will pro- 
 bably get forward without it ; Adela, I believe, 
 will require emulation/' 
 
 " I would try better incentives first, though," 
 said !Mrs. Althea. '' There are mechanical diffi- 
 culties in the way of educating different classes 
 of minds separately in schools; but the com- 
 parative facility for this is one of the grand 
 advantages of home education. For my part, 
 I hate the very names of emulation and com- 
 petition." 
 
 " You do ? " cried Mr. Glyn, looking highly 
 amused. ^' Why, they are the very life of public 
 schools ! " 
 
 "There let them dwell then," said Mrs. 
 Althea, " without invading smaller circles." 
 
 " What ' better incentives ' can you substi- 
 tute for them ? " 
 
 " Let Pamela show you," said Mrs. Althea. 
 q2
 
 228 The Ladies of 
 
 '^ Do you mean Miss Boliun ? Well, if her 
 plans answer, I shall not interfere. Can I see 
 her?" 
 
 "I will send for her/^ said Mrs. Althea, 
 ringing the belL 
 
 It was soon found, however, that Pamela was 
 not with Mrs. Kitty, hut had walked into the 
 village ; and Mr. Glyn, in the course of a fe-w 
 minutes, took his leave. 
 
 Mrs. Kitty bounced in, directly after, in a 
 state of great excitement. 
 
 " Only think ! " cried she, " malting barley 
 up to three-and-sixpence a bushel ; and grind- 
 ing, three-and-three ! I shall make my fortune ! 
 Didn't I tell you how good a thing it would be 
 to put down plenty of it? But you are knocked 
 up, my lady, and must have something to do 
 you good." 
 
 Mrs. Althea was beginning to recover her- 
 self, when Pamela came in with Mr. Bohun.
 
 Bever Hollow. 229 
 
 " IVe picked up papa on the common," said 
 she gaily ; '^ and he has told me the very thing 
 I am glad to hear — that Mr. Glyn wants me to 
 be his little girls' governess/' 
 
 "And Mr. Glyn has been here in the in- 
 terim," said Mrs. Althea, " and told me the 
 same thing." 
 
 "Well," muttered Mrs. Kitty, "if nothing 
 comes of it — " She thought better of what she 
 was going to say, and broke off her sentence. 
 
 " But something will come of it," said Mr. 
 Bohun, " since all parties are agreed. And 
 Pamela, in leaving her home for the sake of 
 those dear to her, will be better loved by us 
 than ever." 
 
 He kissed her fondly as he spoke. She 
 looked deeply gratified, and no tear started to 
 her eye. 
 
 " Ah, papa," said she softly, " we only seem 
 just to have learnt to know one another."
 
 230 T^he Ladies of 
 
 All were silent for a few minutes. Then it 
 was arranged that as Pamela's time would be 
 short, and there were many things to be done 
 and thought of, she should return home the next 
 day.
 
 Bever Hollow, z^i 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 New Lights. 
 
 A perpetually recurring small expense is more to be 
 avoided than an incidental great one. The narrow- 
 minded woman succeeds tolerably in th.e filling up, but 
 never in the outUne. She is made up of detail, but 
 destitute of jDlan, — Hannah More. 
 
 TM-ES. 
 
 Althea, how much — I mean, how 
 little — do you think a fellow may 
 many on?" 
 
 '*^Well, Greorge, that depends on what sort 
 of a fellow he is. The Reverend Robert Walker, 
 of Seathwaite, married on a curacy of five 
 pounds a year, with a cottage attached.^^ 
 " Starved ; or had a private fortune ? '^ 
 ^' No, he did whatever came to hand — taught 
 the parish children eight hours daily in the
 
 232 ,The Ladies of 
 
 church, sitting within the communion-rails and 
 spinning wool while they learnt their tasks; 
 carried his wool on his back to market, no 
 matter in w^iat weather : — in the evenings, 
 wrote wills and conveyances for his parishioners, 
 for the little remuneration they could afford to 
 give." 
 
 " Singular character ! ^' 
 
 '^ He dug his own garden, looked after two 
 cows and a few sheep, and tilled his glebe-land. 
 He brought up eight industrious and aifectionate 
 children, was a good husband, father, and 
 parish priest, and read the Scriptures and 
 preached with such fervour and unction as to 
 reach the hardest, most indifferent heart." 
 
 " Well, this is rather wide of the mark." 
 
 " What think you of the genteel^ economy of 
 Mr. Peregrine Langton, who lived in Lincoln- 
 shire, on an annuity of two hundred pounds? 
 The rent of his house, with two or three small
 
 Bever Hollow, 233 
 
 fields, was twenty-eiglit pounds; his family 
 consisted of a sister, who paid him eighteen 
 pounds a year for her board, and a niece. He 
 kept two livery servants and t^^o maids ; a post- 
 chariot and three horses. He kept a good table 
 and entertained his friends as frequently as they 
 entertained him ; dressed well, saved something, 
 and gave something to the poor." 
 
 "Ah, I remember that in Boswell. Xever 
 could make out how he managed it." 
 
 "One thing was, he never kept a running 
 account. He paid his bills weekly, and his 
 servants and landlord quarterly, so that he 
 always knew what he had in hand." 
 
 " Capital fellow. Well, Mrs. Althea, all this 
 sounds practical, but not very practicable; so 
 I'll just change the subject and go off to the 
 dinner at the Hall. Famous dinner, as far as 
 eating went, but queer people to eat. Kot the 
 eUte^ save and except the noble Mr. Glyn, who
 
 234 ^he Ladies of 
 
 sat at Miss Hill's right hand, and played the 
 agreeable to her. He couldn't draw her out 
 much, though; for why? there's so little to 
 draw. I sat next to Miss Rhoda ; and a tolerably 
 nice girl she is." 
 
 "Come, I admire that. She is certainly 
 above the average of our belles." 
 
 "Well, she is gentle, and girlish; cheerful, 
 and unaiFected. Pretty well read, too, and up 
 to the affairs of the day, yet not obliged to 
 make them her staple; and has ideas of her 
 own." 
 
 " Oh, she has, has she ? What sort of ideas, 
 pray?" 
 
 "Ma'am, you may be incredulous and iron- 
 ical ; but Miss Rhoda certainly has some 
 original ideas." 
 
 " As, for instance ? — " 
 
 "As, for instance, that much better con- 
 versation is to be found in books, in novels, 
 than in real life."
 
 Bever Hollow. 235 
 
 ''Well, may it not be so ?" 
 
 *' Why, ' to speak like a book ^ is tbe essence 
 of bad taste! What! the preaching of Tre- 
 maine and his college friend to be tolerated in 
 real life ?^^ 
 
 "That was not table-talk, but the serious 
 debate of friend with friend." 
 
 " Well then, the light, frothy stuff in fashion- 
 able novels, professing to show up high life 
 which the wi'iters have never seen. No, I con- 
 sider Miss E,hoda clearly wrong. Any way, 
 imitations can never come up to originals; 
 therefore, imaginary conversations can never 
 equal real ones." 
 
 "In what? In closeness of thought, and 
 neatness and felicity of expression?" 
 
 "Ah, well, those we may find better in a 
 book, but not the summer-lightning wit that 
 comes and goes 'ere one can say it lightens.' 
 Again, — she fancies people are really better,
 
 236 T^he Ladies of 
 
 more virtuous, in the country than in town ! 
 You and I know, unfortunately, there is not 
 much to chose between them." 
 
 "An innocent illusion, — and not altogether 
 illusory. Country influences are the befet. 
 However, there is no influence that really 
 cleanses the heart but that of the Holy Spirit." 
 
 " And she thinks women are no better than 
 men!" 
 
 "I am afraid we are both bad enough. You 
 seem to have got upon some tolerably tough 
 subjects between the courses." 
 
 " But what did she know of them ?" 
 
 "Well, it was rather presumptuous of my 
 little friend ; but we may presume her to have 
 read a little, in the school-room, of such persons 
 as Queen Jezebel and Catherine de' Medicis." 
 
 " At all events, we kept up the ball famously, 
 and I thought Mr. Glyn looked our way now 
 and then as if he envied me."
 
 Bever Hollow. 237 
 
 " Sheer conceit, George ! I suppose Miss 
 Hill, too, looked at her cousin, now and then, 
 as if envying lier. No commoner trait of self 
 complacence than fancying that other people are 
 envying us." 
 
 " Well, but, ^Irs. Althea, I must tell you of 
 an extraordinary thing I saw as I came along 
 to-day—" 
 
 '"' Forgive me, George, if I ask you to wait 
 one moment, — but here comes Hannah for the 
 tax-gatherer's money, which Kitty left with me 
 before she went out. . . . Now, then, I am all 
 attention, all expectation; — an extraordinary 
 thing? Dear me, what could it be?" 
 
 " I saw Miss Bohun, walking along, hand in 
 hand with the two little Glyns, near Bever 
 Hollow!" 
 
 ''Is that your extraordinary news? What 
 of it?" 
 
 "What of it? Why, the distance from her
 
 238 l^he Ladies of 
 
 own home was considerable, and I did not 
 think she knew the Glyns — nay, I am sure she 
 didn't a very little while ago ! And here was 
 she, walking with the children, just like a 
 servant." 
 
 " That, I will take upon me to say, she 
 was not, George. Pamela Bohun would never 
 look like a servant, let her perform what 
 useful office she might. She is the children's 
 governess." 
 
 "Governess?" said George, changing colour, 
 and pausing. " How long," said he, at length, 
 "has that been?" 
 
 "Quite recently. Her motives do her the 
 highest honour." 
 
 " This is sudden — I was not prepared — that 
 is, I was not expecting — " 
 
 He broke off; and seeing Mrs. Althea look- 
 ing at him earnestly, started up, colouring a 
 little, and said : —
 
 Bever Hollow. 239 
 
 *' I have paid you quite a visitation. Good 
 bye." 
 
 " Stay. Are you really tliinking ill of Miss 
 Bohun for endeavouring to lighten her parents' 
 burthen?" 
 
 " Dear me, far from it ; only it places her in 
 a different position, you see ; and. altogether, I 
 wish she had not done it." 
 
 " I had not thought you so worldly." 
 
 "You need not think me so now, ma'am; 
 but you must see that Miss Bohun has taken a 
 measm-e that will stick by her for life. If she 
 leaves at the month's end, and marries a duke 
 at the year's end, the Glyns will always be able 
 to say ' Oh, yes, she was our governess.' " 
 
 " And if they can and do, where's the harm? 
 Good-bye, George ; I am ashamed of the view 
 you take of it. I had thought better things of 
 you."
 
 Z4-0 ^he Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Pamela s Cogitations. 
 
 Yet who can tell ? Within that breast, 
 
 That pure and hallowed cell 
 
 Of a heart where grief should never rest, 
 
 Some latent woes may dwell. 
 
 For grief may lurk in the throbbing heart, 
 
 That is jDure as the mountain stream. 
 
 And tears from the fount of eyes depart 
 
 That are bright as the morning beam, 
 
 And the bosom may seem as light as air, 
 
 Yet misery find a dwelling there ! 
 
 Dr. a. T. Thomson. 
 
 rPHE hardest transition of tlie young is from 
 -^ the warmed, lighted-up chm'ch of Imagi- 
 nation, into the cold night-air of Duty. Daz- 
 zled with romantic instances of self-devotion, 
 they incline to wait in idleness for similar 
 opportunities of exerting themselves ; disdaining
 
 Bever Hollow, 241 
 
 or disgusted with that regular but unobtrusive 
 kind of moral defence which, like the Chinese 
 wall, is destitute of sufficient grandeur to at- 
 tract the eye ; yet is interminable in length and 
 surmounts all obstacles. 
 
 Pamela Bohun had early learnt to endure 
 hardness; but she was now placed in a new 
 position, the trials of which were wholly dif- 
 ferent from those her imagination had presented. 
 Fortunately she found herself quite able to meet 
 them. The routine of teaching, the confinement, 
 the monotony, were either lightly borne by her, 
 or well supported by a sense of duty ; she was, 
 however, very homesick ; and continually long- 
 ing for some glimpse and speech of those she 
 loved. She was unaccustomed, also, to the 
 conventionalities of a large household, but not 
 over-sensitive or ready to fancy slights, owing 
 to her subordinate position in it ; and though 
 she would not, in any circumstances, have put 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 The Ladies of 
 
 herself forward in the family circle, there was a 
 native self-possession, wholly distinct from con- 
 ceit, which gave her a frankness and fearlessness 
 of being suspected of doing wrong when she 
 was meaning to do right, that at first gave Mrs. 
 Glyn a little umbrage, and at length, no little 
 confidence in her. 
 
 When she went up to her neat, snug little 
 room the first night, — the room which had once 
 been Mrs. Kitty's, and which had old-fashioned 
 prints of Versailles on the wall, and a Dutch- 
 tiled fire-place, — there was a brisk fire burning 
 in the grate! Oh, luxury for a governess! 
 Pamela had never had a fire in her bedroom 
 before, even on cold nights ; and how luxurious 
 it now was, to draw a comfortable old easy-chair 
 before it, and sit musing and gazing on the 
 glowing embers; and in a leisurely way, take 
 down her long, redundant hair, and brush it 
 deliberately. How comfortably she could finish
 
 Bever Hollow. 243 
 
 unpacking, and making her various little ar- 
 rangements : how gratefully take out her Bible 
 and read it longer than usual ; then gaze into 
 the fire and muse again — then kneel down and 
 pray — then go to bed and lie down quite peace- 
 fully and contentedly, and bless Mrs. Glyn for 
 this unexpected indulgence, and feel sure all 
 would go well ; and with home in her heart and 
 a prayer for home on her lips, fall into dream- 
 less, refreshing sleep. 
 
 A sack or two of coals during the winter 
 makes no great difference to a moderately easy 
 housekeeper ; and how much gratitude and com- 
 fort may they promote ; and what a character 
 for kindliness and liberality may they establish ! 
 
 Pamela's meeting with George Mildmay hap- 
 pened thus. She was telling the little girls 
 what pretty nosegays might be made of dead 
 leaves of every variety of colour and shade, 
 from the gayest yellow and scarlet to dark 
 e2
 
 244 ^^^^ Ladies of 
 
 brown, myrtle green, and mulberry colour — 
 " murray colour," as the old name was, — when 
 suddenly, a surprised voice behind her smote 
 her ear, with 
 
 " Miss Bohun ! " 
 and turning round, she saw George Mildmay 
 riding close to the path. 
 
 " So far from home? " he said. 
 
 " Yes — " said she, without having anything 
 else immediately to say ; for something inqui- 
 sitive and distrustful in his eye made her 
 embarrassed, she knew not why. 
 
 " All well at home, I hope ? " said he. 
 
 " Quite well, thank you, I believe." 
 
 "You believe? are you, then, staying at 
 Bever Hollow?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " She lives with us ! " said the little Mabel, 
 explanatorily. 
 
 George looked quickly at her. Pamela
 
 Bever Hollow. 245 
 
 blushed. AYhy should she? Why should he 
 bow more distantly than usual, and ride off? 
 Pamela could not tell ; she could only feel flut- 
 tered and uncomfortable, as if he had found 
 out something she had not cared he should 
 know ; whereas, up to that minute, it had 
 never occurred to her to care at all about the 
 matter. 
 
 "Go on — go on with what you were telling 
 us, please ! " cried Adela. 
 
 "What was it, dear?" 
 
 " About the winter garland on your mamma's 
 birthday." 
 
 "See! there's a squirrel, running to that 
 tree!" 
 
 Away flew the children ; and Pamela, instead 
 of thinking over Mr. Mildmay's equivocal 
 tone, look, and bow, stoutly set herself to 
 repeat those noble lines in Wordsworth's ^ Ode 
 to Duty.'—
 
 246 ^he Ladies of 
 
 stem lawgiver ! yet dost thou wear 
 The godhead's most benignant grace. 
 Nor know we anything so fair 
 As is the smile upon thy face. 
 Flowers laugh before thee in their beds. 
 And fragrance in thy footing treads : 
 Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, 
 And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh 
 and strong.' 
 
 " You all look merry enough," said Mr. 
 Glyn, coming up with the party just as they 
 readied the escutcheoned gate. Each hand 
 was instantly appropriated by his little girls. 
 
 " Well, Miss Bohun, how have they got on 
 to-day ? Have they given you any trouble ? " 
 
 " I did not consider if it were trouble or not," 
 said Pamela, "for we all liked what we were 
 about." 
 
 "Yes, papa, Miss Bohun says she likes 
 teaching," cried Adela, " and she likes play too. 
 We had such a game of play in the hall ! " 
 
 " Yes, for we thought it would rain and we
 
 Bever Hollow. 247 
 
 should lose our walk," said Mabel; ''but it 
 cleared up afterwards, so grandmamma said we 
 might come out." 
 
 " I have been round jour way," said Mr. 
 Glyn to Pamela ; " and just looked in at the 
 vicarage, for I knew I should be more welcome 
 if I brought you word that all were well." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " cried Pamela, brightening. 
 
 "And there was your father, like another 
 Hooker, rocking the cradle." Pamela laughed. 
 
 "Xot a literal wicker-cradle, I own," said 
 Mr. Glyn, "but walking up and down the 
 room with a little sleepy boy in his arms, 
 whom he soon rocked to sleep. And your 
 mother was rubbing up an old picture with 
 sweet oil, and bringing out its beauties ama- 
 zingly, while two of her children were watch- 
 ing the process as earnestly as Teniers' child 
 watches the housewife scraping the carrot. We 
 had a long chat about you, and I told them
 
 248 T^he Ladies of 
 
 how famously we were getting on together. 
 All sent loves ; and your mother made me the 
 bearer of this little packet for you, which, of 
 course, you will be glad to run off with and 
 examine." For they had just reached the hall 
 steps. 
 
 "Oh, thank you ! " cried Pamela ; and, 
 running off, all smiles, to her own room, she 
 met Mrs. Glyn. "Was that my son, coming 
 in with you?" said she. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, we met him at the lodge," 
 said Pamela cheerfully, " and he has been so 
 kind as to call on papa and mamma, and has 
 brought me word they are quite well." 
 
 "Oh indeed! Well, my dear, when you 
 have changed your dress, you can come to me 
 and read me the review that you said I should 
 like . . . There's something frank and open in 
 that girl," thought Mrs. Glyn as Pamela ran 
 off, " that suits me amazingly. Not one of
 
 Bever Hollow, 249 
 
 your mincing misses, full of self-conscious- 
 ness." 
 
 The review was of Bisliop Corrie's Life. 
 Pamela presently came to the following passage: 
 
 " ' I feel, decidedly and painfully, that large 
 means have not been of advantage to myself or 
 my family.' 
 
 '•Dear me," inteijected Pamela, "he could 
 not have knowTi how to use them then, I 
 should think. How much he might have 
 given away!" 
 
 " ' My own soul has lost much of the liveli- 
 ness I once possessed in religion.' (Surely, that 
 would not have been the case if his deeds, his 
 alms-deeds, had kept pace with his means?) 
 ' The willingness to labour, the readiness to 
 attend to the poor, the pleasures of going here 
 and there to serve others, either officially or 
 of choice, is departed from me.' — Poor man; 
 poor bishop."
 
 250 'The Ladies of 
 
 " You have been accustomed only to see the 
 other half of the picture, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Glyn rather grandly, "and have fancied that all 
 the evils of life could be remedied by riches." 
 
 " Many of them, by riches well applied," 
 said Pamela thoughtfully. 
 
 "Whereas you see this good man found them 
 a temptation and a burthen — " 
 
 " Like that on the camel's back, which must 
 be unloaded before it can pass through the 
 narrow wicket they call ' the needle's eye,' " 
 said Pamela. 
 
 " They'^ Who ? " cried Mrs. Glyn. 
 
 " People in the east. — The people of Jeru- 
 salem, I think," said Pamela. "At night, 
 after the great gates are shut, no one can enter 
 except through a very narrow door called ' the 
 needle's eye ; ' and, if there is occasion to bring 
 in a camel, it must be unloaded first, and can 
 even then only squeeze through with difficulty."
 
 Bever Hollow. 251 
 
 " That is new to me," said Mrs. Gljn with 
 interest, — '' it throws a new light on the ' strait 
 gate and narrow way.' You should tell the 
 children of it." 
 
 "I Avill, ma'am, when we come to the 
 passage referring to it." 
 
 " What is it you are talking of ? " said Mr. 
 Glyn, coming in and throwing himself on a 
 sofa. 
 
 "Needles," said Pamela, rising and laying 
 down the book. 
 
 " ]\[y dear, don't leave us in that marked 
 way," said Mrs. Glyn in an under-tone. "I did 
 not mean that, when I said . . . and besides, 
 that was not a proper answer of yours ; it was 
 flighty, and deceived my son." 
 
 "You are right, ma'am," said Pamela con- 
 tritely, and resuming her seat. 
 
 "Tell him the real thing. Miss Bohun is 
 going to tell you something curious, Charles."
 
 252 T^he Ladies of 
 
 "What is it?" said he, rising and drawing 
 near the fire. She briefly related it. 
 
 " Ha ! " said he, when she had done ; and 
 that was all. He rang the bell directly she had 
 ended, and accosted the servant with, 
 
 " Tell Davies that Wellington must have a 
 warm mash in the morning." 
 
 " Yes, sir. Dinner is on table, sir." 
 
 Mr. Glyn offered his arm to his mother. 
 " Too bad to leave you behind," said he to 
 Pamela. 
 
 " Thank you, I like early hours," said 
 Pamela. 
 
 He nodded slightly, as much as to say " all 
 right," and led his mother down "stairs. Then 
 Pamela returned to the school-room, took pos- 
 session of a very easy chair, and had a luxu- 
 rious reverie about home. 
 
 Her cogitations took somewhat of this form : 
 " It must require an apprenticeship, I think, to
 
 Bever Hollow. 253 
 
 eat hot meat, and so many other things, so late 
 in the day, — must make people feel heavy and 
 sleepy, what the Bible calls ' full of bread,' dis- 
 inclined for any active duty or study. Whereas 
 papa starts up from table, after his early dinner, 
 as fresh as a lark ; and is ready to read, write, 
 walk, talk, or work in the garden. Dear papa ! 
 he has now just finished his tea, and taken his 
 fireside seat, with a youngster on each knee ; 
 Patience has put his list slippers to warm, and 
 thrown on some fresh turfs ; Fulk is lying on 
 the hard little couch, not quite out of the fire- 
 light ; and mamma is knitting. And what are 
 they all talking about? Very likely, of me! 
 How nice ! Perhaps, too, of Mr. Grlyn. Mamma 
 is saying he is a personable man, but carries his 
 head rather high. Papa says, * Nonsense, my 
 dear! — would you have him stoop?' and bids 
 the little ones carry their heads like Mr. Glyn, 
 and remember they are De Bones. It was very
 
 254 ^h^ Ladies of 
 
 kind of Mr. Glyn to promise papa his Times, 
 only one day old, if I would take the trouble of 
 tying it up, and giving it to Bates every morning 
 at a certain hour. Of course I will, especially 
 as I have been told I may put in a little note 
 now and then. Memorandum : One of my 
 private restrictions must be, not to encroach. 
 When people are so kind already, I ought not 
 to take advantages or liberties. No ; it is best 
 for those we live with and serve under to say, 
 ' Friend, come up higher,' rather than need to 
 be repressed. I know this loan of the Times 
 will be valuable to papa, notwithstanding what 
 he said about its tempting him to idle ; because 
 he now only has the weekly county paper, 
 which, as he says, contains little, and that little 
 not worth knowing. He will now know what 
 people marry, die, get public places, make grand 
 discoveries, what is said in parliament, what is 
 done at the universities and in foreign countries,
 
 Bever Hollow. 255 
 
 what new books come out, and what old ones 
 are sold at auctions when gentlemen of property 
 go abroad. Papa is not a man to idle for one 
 minute he cannot spare. And as for mamma, 
 who has no leisure for amusing books, she will 
 yet find it now and then for a paragTaph in the 
 Times, which will divert her from too anxiously 
 thinking how to make one penny go as far as 
 two. How many inexpensive ways there are of 
 showing kindness ! — ways that the rich, and 
 those, too, who are not rich, frequently neglect 
 to improve. Here, now, Mr. Glyn says he does 
 not care what becomes of the papers, providing 
 they are retmned to be filed at last; so that 
 papa will be able to lend them to uncle Xed, 
 who is confined to his arm-chair, and who really 
 has no turn for any harder reading ; and he will 
 con them over, and forget to fret at my aunt 
 and the maid. 
 
 " I wonder how Prudence gets on with Fulk's
 
 256 The Ladies of 
 
 shirts. I would gladly have brought the wrist- 
 bands and collars with me to stitch ; but mamma 
 said I must not give a divided attention, when 
 I was paid for the whole ; and that if I under- 
 took them, half my thoughts would be on my 
 pupils and half on my work. I believe she was 
 right. The other day, when I tried a little 
 fancy-knitting while lessons went on, I found 
 I became impatient ; and at home, where I was 
 constantly obliged to do two things at once, it 
 frequently made me feverish and captious. 
 Mamma says, two things at once are only for 
 her and Julius Caesar. Governessing ! how 
 easy it is, compared with the duties of many 
 a mother and many a daughter ! How many 
 things are made easy for us — how many taken 
 off our hands altogether ! Why, when the 
 children are in bed, or with their old nurse, or 
 in the drawing-room, I am completely my own 
 mistress! — with free access to that delightful
 
 Bever Hollow, 257 
 
 library, and with those fine pictures to see 
 daily ! The separation from those one loves is 
 the grand thing ; and should I not be separated 
 from them if I married ? — married Mr. Forest ? 
 Fulk will be separated from us at college, and 
 yet he revels in the thought of going. Cer- 
 tainly, I do not like meeting such strange looks 
 as Mr. Mildmay gave me this morning; but 
 might it not have been partly my own fault? 
 Of course he would be surprised to know I was 
 here, if he had not been told already." 
 
 At this instant, the entrance of the tea-urn 
 put an end to the cogitations of Pamela. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 258 The Ladies of 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Rliodcis Ruminations. 
 
 ! let the ungentle spirit learn from hence, 
 A small iinkindness is a great offence, 
 Large bounties to bestow, we seldom gain, 
 But all may shun the guilt of giving pain. 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
 " T) EALLY, Mr. Mildmay can be very coni- 
 -*-*' panionable when he chooses," said 
 
 Charlotte Hill to her sister. " I was quite as 
 
 well pleased he should have come this morning 
 
 as if he had been Mr. Forest." 
 
 " Your cold is so very slight," said Anna, 
 
 " that I think he answered every purpose ; and 
 
 it is just possible his partner may have had 
 
 some more serious case." 
 
 " Of course," said Charlotte, coughing a little,
 
 Bever Hollow, 259 
 
 " thougli mj throat really is very sore. "What 
 I meant to say was, he was very pleasant and 
 chatty." 
 
 " Oh, he will chat with anybody ! " said 
 Anna — " with Rhoda, up the avenue." 
 
 Just then Rhoda came in, fresh from the keen 
 open air. 
 
 " Well, Rhoda, I hope you liked your com- 
 panion!" 
 
 "Companion?" said Rhoda, amazed. "I 
 have seen no one but ^Ir. George Mildmay 
 between this and the lodge." 
 
 " And he did not turn about with you, I 
 suppose?" said Anna, sarcastically. 
 
 '• Certainly he did for about a dozen yards, 
 and told me that ]Mrs. Althea " 
 
 " Oh, I am tired of Mrs. Althea ! " said Anna. 
 '* She had better get worse or get well." 
 
 " I'm sure, I hope, then, she will get well,'' 
 said Rhoda. '' Mr. Mildmay thinks she may 
 s2
 
 26o 'The Ladies of 
 
 rally very much next year, if she can get 
 through this winter. He told me something 
 that surprised me — " 
 
 " What was that ? " said Charlotte. 
 
 " That Miss Bohun, — that beautiful Pamela 
 I told you of, — is governess to the Miss Glyns." 
 
 " Indeed? " cried Anna. " Depend upon it, 
 then, she hopes to be Mrs. Glyn some day ! " 
 
 " Dear Anna, how can you be so severe on 
 one whom you have never seen ? " 
 
 " Human nature is the same all the world 
 over. I don't say she'll succeed, but I'm sure 
 she will try." 
 
 " Well, I think otherwise," said Ehoda, sigh- 
 ing, and wishing she had not named it. She 
 went up to her own room, and sat with her 
 bonnet hanging from her hand by the string, 
 musing in a desultory kind of way. She had 
 come home sunny, and was now shady. 
 
 " Very likely Miss Bohun has not a room
 
 Bever Hollow, 261 
 
 half so nice as this," thought she. " And she 
 has to work for her livelihood, while I, as the 
 little hymn says, — 
 
 * — have food while others starve, 
 And beg from door to door.' 
 
 — But, energy, sympathy ! the power of being 
 useful ! the sweetness of having your efforts 
 appreciated ! . . . Ah, Pamela ! I should like to 
 change with you ! — And yet even you are evil 
 spoken of and unfairly judged. All that Mr. 
 Mildmay said of you was kind and feeling, but 
 how gratuitously injurious were Anna's suspi- 
 cions of you ! Marry Mr. Glyn, indeed ! I 
 dare say Pamela would as soon think of marry- 
 ing the Man in the Moon. What a pity it is 
 people cannot help judging one another ! Well, 
 but then Anna would say, ' you are judging 
 me ! ' And thus the imperfections of those who 
 are dear to us, and with whom we live, are apt 
 to become our own."
 
 262 The Ladies of 
 
 Rhoda's somewhat melancholy ruminations 
 were abandoned for thoughts of a much livelier 
 complexion, when, on rejoining her cousins, she 
 found that a dinner-invitation to the whole 
 family had arrived from Mrs. Glyn. That there 
 might be no doubt as to her share in it, she had 
 a separate invitation. 
 
 " And written in the most beautiful, of 
 hands," said Charlotte, highly elated. " Oh, — 
 Miss Bohun, no doubt." 
 
 This party occasioned far more excitement 
 among the Miss Hills than anywhere else. 
 Mrs. Glyn's stiff sense of propriety caused her 
 to return the compliment paid to herself and 
 her son ; but the reception-rooms at Bever 
 Hollow were of moderate dimensions, and a 
 dozen persons were as many as she chose to 
 receive in them, except on extraordinary occa- 
 sions. F.om' Hills, her son and herself, supplied 
 half the number ; the others were Mr. and Mrs,
 
 Bever Hollow, 263 
 
 Heathcote, Miss Eickards and her brother, ^Ir. 
 Forest, and a Colonel Enderby. These were 
 not the elite of Mrs. Glyn's acquaintance ; she 
 did not mean them to be ; but thej were guests 
 against whom the Hills could take no excep- 
 tions. 
 
 When Ehoda entered Mrs. Glyn's drawing- 
 room, she looked round, rather foolishly hoping 
 to see Pamela ; but neither governess nor chil- 
 dren were there. The assemblage was of the 
 stiffest ; and there sat Miss Eoberta Eickards, 
 bolt upright, in the stiffest of silks, talking in 
 a mannish voice to Mr. G1}ti about his stud ; 
 Anna was promoted to a seat next Mrs. Glyn ; 
 Mrs. Heathcote addressed some civil nothings 
 to Charlotte ; Mr. Hill joined Mr. Forest and 
 the two other gentlemen ; and Ehoda, as was 
 frequently the case, found herself alone in a 
 pre-occupied circle. Presently, to her surprise 
 and great pleasure, Mr. Glyn addressed her,
 
 264 The Ladies of 
 
 and led the way to cheerful conversation. 
 Dinner was announced too soon, she thought, 
 for it broke up the dialogue, and she found 
 herself consigned to the care of the colonel. 
 A very common-place colonel he proved. 
 
 When the ladies returned to the drawing- 
 room, Pamela and the children were sitting 
 round the fire, and amusing themselves by 
 fancying grotesque images in it. Rhoda in- 
 stantly hastened towards her: the pleasure of 
 the two girls in meeting each other was mutual ; 
 and while the other ladies gathered round the 
 fire, with the exception of Miss Rickards, who, 
 planted bolt upright in the centre of a large 
 sofa Which her ample robes completely covered, 
 surveyed Pamela with a fixed, indomitable 
 stare, they, with the children, retreated to a 
 table covered with books of prints and en- 
 gravings, in the most distant corner of the 
 drawing-room. Adela was soon begging Ehoda
 
 Bever Hollow. 265 
 
 to decide whether the graceful honeysuckle or 
 dangerous thistle were to be preferred in Grand- 
 ville's " Fleurs Animees;" while Pamela and 
 Mab were equally interested in a volume of 
 Bewick's vignettes. 
 
 " Look ! " said Pamela, '^ here is a poor, old, 
 broken-down soldier, with a wooden leg, hun- 
 grily sucking a bare bone, which, I suppose, 
 is all the relief he has obtained at that gi-and 
 house among the trees. And his gaunt, half- 
 starved dog eagerly yet patiently waits for the 
 reversion of the bone ; while that peacock, 
 perched on the park-wall, surveys them both 
 with disdain." 
 
 " Poor old man ! poor dog I " said little Mab. 
 " I've seen this picture so often. Miss Bohun, 
 and never understood it so well before. Tell 
 us some more, please." 
 
 " Do you remember those pretty lines of 
 Cowper's," said Pamela, looking at Rhoda,—
 
 266 The Ladies of 
 
 " 'That self-approving bird the peacock, see — 
 Mark what a sumptuous Pharisee is he ' — 
 
 and so forth ? " 
 
 " No— Oh, do go on." 
 
 " Oh, it goes on to describe a pompous pro- 
 fessor under the metaphor, and then contrasts 
 him with the humble-minded believer's tjrpe, 
 the pheasant — 
 
 ' Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes, 
 Though he, too, has a glory in his plumes ; 
 He, Christian -Uke, retires with modest mien 
 To the far grove, or dim sequestered green. 
 And shines, vnthout desiring to be seen.' " 
 
 " Beautiful ! " said Khoda. . 
 
 " See, here is our old friend the soldier, 
 again," said Pamela, after tul'ning over a few 
 leaves. " Here is a house in process of building, 
 on the skirts of a heath. See, Mab! see, 
 Adela! one of the bricklayers with a hod on 
 his shoulder, and dressed in an old regimental 
 coat, recognizes a long-lost brother, or at any
 
 Bever Hollow, 267 
 
 rate a brother-in-arms, in the old soldier, and 
 shakes him joyfully by the hand ! " 
 
 "Oh, a real brother, please!" cried Adela. 
 " What pretty stories you do tell ! " 
 
 " Nay, the prints tell them, I think. Look 
 at this poor, half-starved maid of all work, 
 giving a tremendous thump with a gridiron to 
 the voracious dog that is devouring her half- 
 pound of beef-steak. Perhaps he wants it, 
 though, as much as she does. Miss Hill will 
 see more in the next than you will." — (Rhoda 
 leant over her shoulder) — " A white-haired old 
 man directs the attention of a lad to the inscrip- 
 tion on a Runic monument in the midst of a 
 wild moor. In the distance, a man is plough- 
 ing ; still further off, you see, is the tall 
 chimney of a manufactory. What a lapse of 
 time we are carried through ! From the days 
 of Runic monuments to those of cotton-mills 
 and sugar-boilers ! "
 
 268 The Ladies of 
 
 *' We are, indeed," said Rlioda, looking at 
 her in a kind of surprise. " What is the next ? 
 I cannot make them out as you do. It seems to 
 me nothing but the moon shining on a lone rock 
 in a wild sea." * 
 
 ''' Nothing hut' ? '' 
 
 "What, then?" 
 
 " Suppose a man should have been just 
 washed off that rock ! Or, that it should never 
 have been seen by human eye since the creation 
 of the world ! And yet we know that nothing 
 was created for nothing. See here, again, a 
 lonely and rugged shore, lashed by stormy 
 waves, which have cast on it a broken rudder 
 and compass. There, at least, is something 
 suggestive of human danger and woe. And 
 here is a companion sea-piece — A mariner on 
 a lone rock, round which the waves are rising, 
 lifting his hands, perhaps for the first time, in 
 prayer."
 
 Bever Hollow. 269 
 
 " ' For tlie first time ' ? Your suggestions are 
 very imaginative," said Mr. Glyn, who, un- 
 observed, was standing behind her. 
 
 Pamela started. " Bewick meant us to see 
 all these things," said she. " See ; there is the 
 mast of a shipwrecked vessel just appearing 
 above the waves." 
 
 " Oh, tell us about a fonnj one, please," in- 
 terposed Mabel. But Pamela seemed hampered, 
 which, Mr. Glyn observing, he made his way 
 to the sofa where Miss Kickards still seemed 
 to find inexhaustible employment in staring at 
 Pamela. 
 
 " Prodigious fine girl," said she. 
 
 " She has better points than her looks," said 
 Mr. Glyn. " I rather fancy we have £ound a 
 prize. Her indirect teaching of my children is 
 capital." 
 
 " I hate everything indirect," cried Miss 
 Roberta. " I like everything straightforward."
 
 270 T^he Ladies of 
 
 " She is very straightforward too," said Mr. 
 Glyn. " Straightforward without being blunt." 
 
 " The reverse of blunt is sharp," said Miss 
 Rickards. " Now, I don't like sharp people." 
 
 "Nor do I," said Mr. Glyn. "I think 
 Miss Bohun has never spoken a sharp word 
 to either of the little girls since she came into 
 the house; and yet her rule over them is 
 perfect." 
 
 "Then I suppose you think her equal to 
 Pope's model- wife," said Miss Roberta, — 
 
 " She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, 
 And if she rules him, never shows she rules." 
 
 " I don't know whether Miss Bohun would 
 make a model- wife," said Mr. Glyn, " but she 
 seems something very like a model-governess." 
 
 "0, one will lead to t'other," said Miss 
 Roberta ; " I hate your model people for my 
 part, they're always so conceited. But 'tis pity 
 so much beauty and instruction should be
 
 Bever Hollow, 271 
 
 destined, in all probability, to be wasted on 
 some country-clodhopper." 
 
 " It was, perhaps, to be beyond the reach of 
 such a fate," said Mr. Glyn, " that she came 
 here." 
 
 " ' Came here ' ? Humph ! " 
 
 "A girl, willing to secure her own inde- 
 pendence by industry, is not very likely to 
 marry for a settlement." 
 
 " That depends upon what sort of settlement 
 it is." 
 
 *' Precisely," said Mr. Glyn, smiling and 
 retreating. He thought the controversy had 
 gone quite far enough. 
 
 There was a piercing frost this night, as 
 every one found to their discomfort, during 
 their long homeward progress. From this time, 
 the winter set in with great severity, with every 
 variety of frost black and white, east and north 
 winds, hail, ice, and snow. People heaped
 
 272 The Ladies of 
 
 roaring logs on blazing coals, and yet shivered 
 over their fires ; horses were rough-shod ; door- 
 steps sanded, pathways brushed free from snow ; 
 and few ventured needlessly out of cover except 
 the busy or the hardy. 
 
 This was a very trying season to Mrs.Althea. 
 She shrank before it like a sensitive plant. 
 Mrs. Kitty nailed list round the doors, pasted 
 up the windows, tried coal, coke, turf, peat, 
 billets, one after another, and yet could not raise 
 the thermometer. 
 
 " This is desperate dull work for you, Althea," 
 said she at last. " Not a creature comes near us." 
 
 " Never mind : how should they ? " said 
 Mrs. Althea, " our lots are more equalized than 
 you think. I have the warmest comer, and 
 every one is glad, now, to get near the fire. It 
 is when the hedges are green, the sun warm, 
 and the windows wide open, that I would be 
 like other people if I could."
 
 Bever Hollow, 273 
 
 That evening, Mrs. Kitty came in, much 
 excited. " The stars are blazing like — fury," 
 said she, " you must and shall take a peep at 
 your old friend Arcturus ! " and suddenly lifting 
 Mrs. Althea in her arms, the kind-hearted 
 Kitty carried her, in spite of her exclamations 
 and remonstrances, quite to the other end of the 
 room, and set her up before the uncurtained 
 window. Mrs. Althea, between laughing and 
 crying, could not express what she felt at this ; 
 so, after brushing away a few tears and kissing 
 Kitty heartily, she suffered herself to be propped 
 up with sofa cushions so as to gaze at her ease, 
 on the starry heavens. 
 
 "How they blink!" cried Mrs. Kitty, 
 opening and shutting her hand very fast several 
 times, to express the twinkling of the fixed stars. 
 
 " What varieties of splendour ! " ejaculated 
 Mrs. Althea. " How one would like to know 
 whether the difference in their glories is real or 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ^he Ladies of 
 
 only apparent — whether it betokens various 
 distances, or only magnitudes." 
 
 "What good would it do us?" asked Mrs. 
 Kitty. 
 
 " Nay, Kitty, do not bring me down so soon 
 from my altitudes. We see, indeed, that they 
 are irregularly distributed, that a great many 
 more are perceptible towards the east than 
 towards the north. You and I, without the aid 
 of glasses, can see no stars smaller than those 
 of the sixth degree of magnitude ; but we know 
 that the telescope brings to light thousands and 
 millions that are smaller or else farther off. 
 Observe, when Hannah brings in the candles 
 presently, how quickly the light travels into the 
 room ; it darts into every corner in far less than 
 a moment — yet the light which now reaches us 
 from some of those stars, travelling at the same 
 rapid rate, left their surfaces a hundred and 
 forty years ago."
 
 Bever Hollow. 275 
 
 " You maze me," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 ''Ah, we may well be amazed," said Mrs. 
 Althea. 
 
 " I said mazed — puzzled. It bewilders me 
 to think about it," said ]\Irs. Kitty. 
 
 " Well, mazed and amazed are both one,"' 
 said ^Irs. Althea, " though a-mazed is the more 
 dignified and Saxon. 'When I consider the 
 heavens, the work of thy hands, the moon 
 and the stars which thou hast ordained; what 
 is man, that thou are mindful of him ; the son 
 of man that thou visitest him ' ? " 
 
 " Aye, what, indeed," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 " David felt he knew very little about it." 
 
 " And yet, there were grand astronomers in 
 those old days," said Mr. Althea. " Chaldeans 
 and Babylonians." 
 
 " Star-gazers — star- worshippers," said Mrs. 
 Kitty. 
 
 " Something more than that, I incline to 
 1?2
 
 276 The Ladies of 
 
 think," said Mrs. Althea, " though, it is to be 
 feared, their star-gazing did lead at last to star- 
 worshipping." 
 
 " That's just what I said," rejoined Mrs. 
 Kitty. " Come, you're getting too excited about 
 it ; I don't think I'm very fond of hearing 
 about such things — they make us seem so 
 small." 
 
 " Not smaller than we are," insisted Mrs. 
 Althea. 
 
 " So insignificant," said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " No, Kitty, there you are wrong. A single 
 soul is of more importance to the Almighty than 
 all material existence." 
 
 After a little pause, she softly repeated, 
 " ' In my Father's house are many mansions.' — 
 Perhaps those stars may be our future homes."
 
 Bifver Hollow, 277 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 Mrs, Brands 
 
 But wiio is this ? what thing of sea or land 
 Comes this way sailing, like a stately ship, 
 Sails set, and streamers waving ? 
 
 Milton, Samson Agonistes. 
 
 rjlHIS little treat was not without its evil con- 
 sequences to Mrs. Althea. Perhaps she 
 would have been soon ill again at any rate ; but 
 however that might be, a very severe access of 
 suffering came on, which she got through as 
 she could ; for her doctors being very busy and 
 supposing her to be much as usual, absented 
 themselves for several days. George Mildmay's 
 heart smote him, when he came in glowing 
 with health and exercise, and saw her wan, 
 withered, and looking ready to die. Mrs. Kitty
 
 278 The Ladies of 
 
 was very anxious, and yet provoked with her- 
 self and Mrs. Althea for being too much so ; 
 and when George pronounced *' You'll get over 
 it this time, ma'am" — she followed it up with 
 "That's what / say;" and shortly afterwards 
 told Hannah it was nothing in the world but 
 the cold, and they had all been frightened too 
 easily. 
 
 Mrs. Althea, however, continued to droop, 
 without having the monotony of her daily life 
 cheered by a new face. She did not know what 
 a treat was in store for her ! 
 
 "What are you so hampered about, K^tty?" 
 said she one morning to her sister, who was 
 reading a letter. 
 
 " Here's a letter from Eliza Brand," said 
 Mrs. Kitty, " She seems very uncomfortable." 
 
 "What! in hot water again?" said Mrs. 
 Althea, " She is seldom out of it, I think." 
 
 "Don't be too severe, Althea; we have all
 
 Bever Ho/low, 279 
 
 our trials. Eliza Brand has hers as you have 
 yours." 
 
 " She certainly may have," said Mrs. Althea. 
 
 " And has,'' said Mrs. Kitty. " Sheperton has 
 become such a very unpleasant place to her that 
 she is forced to leave it." 
 
 " She has made it too hot to hold her, in fact/' 
 said Mrs. Althea ; '' Not the first place ! " 
 
 " Well, Althea, I pity her more than you do. 
 There is no law I know of, to oblige her to re- 
 main at Sheperton." 
 
 " None whatever. ' The world is all before 
 her, where to choose,' " said Mrs. Althea, " I 
 only hope she won't come here." 
 
 " Well, she rather wishes to do so." 
 
 " Oh, Kitty !" and Mrs. Althea turned pale. 
 
 " What now?" said Mrs. Kitty. 
 
 " As she only rather wishes, I verT/ much hope 
 you will give her no encouragement." 
 
 "I!" cried IVIrs. Kitty, "She wants no
 
 28o The Ladies of 
 
 encouragement of mine. She is as free to settle 
 in this neighbourhood, if she wishes it, as we 
 were. She doesn^t want anything at all of the 
 sort ; a little village is not enough for her ; but 
 she would be glad to get lodgings at Fording- 
 ton or Collington ; I suppose that would do us 
 no harm." 
 
 ^' Of course not," said Mrs. Althea, re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 " And all she wants," continued Kitty, hesi- 
 tating, "is to come here a little while till she 
 has found lodgings." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mrs. Althea, groaning, " Don't ! 
 Don't let it be, Kitty! so nicely as we are 
 going on! She'll disorganize us all. She'll 
 wever find lodgings if she once comes here." 
 
 " Well," said Kitty, shedding a tear, " I must 
 say you are very unkind, Althea." 
 
 "O Kitty! don't say that ! " 
 
 " You are. Very unkind. Surely I might
 
 Bever Hollow. 281 
 
 ask an old schoolfellow to the house for a few 
 days." 
 
 " If you put it in that way, Kitty, you know 
 I am silenced." 
 
 " Even if she were ever so unpleasant to you," 
 continued Kitty, " if she were ever so disagree- 
 able — whereas she is a person that everybody 
 likes"— 
 
 "Kitty, Kitty!"— 
 
 " — and that never hurt you" — 
 
 " Ah—" sighed Mrs. Althea. 
 • "Yes, I know what that sigh means — that 
 the last time she was with us " 
 
 " Kitty, don't talk of those times, please. 
 You know they affect me too much. Do not 
 take on in this way, nor raise your voice at me 
 — let us speak gently." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not going to argue about it," said 
 Mrs. Kitty, still very hotly, " only say yes or 
 no, for you're the eldest "
 
 282 The Ladies of 
 
 " I wish I might say No," said Mrs. 
 Althea. " You know I cannot bear to dis- 
 oblige you." 
 
 " Deeds, not words, for me," said Kitty. 
 
 " Just hear me. You have read the letter 
 hastily; you are talking and feeling hastily 
 now ; but give yourself time to cool. The 
 letter need not be answered this minute ; nay, 
 there is no opportunity of posting it. Let it 
 alone till to-morrow ; and then, when you have 
 thought it over calmly, if you still desire to take 
 a step which I consider very inexpedient, invite 
 her here for a week." 
 
 " A week ! it would be an affront to pro- 
 pose to her so short a time, with her limited 
 finances." 
 
 "A fortnight, then; on the express under- 
 standing that it is to accommodate her in 
 looking out for lodgings." 
 
 "If I write to her at all, I shall write
 
 Bever Hollow, 283 
 
 civilly," cried Kitty. *' I'm not going to insult 
 my friend." 
 
 And turning very red, she was about to 
 continue the strife, when Hannah, opening the 
 door, said, demurely : — 
 
 " Please, mum, the donkey's ate all them 
 beans!" 
 
 ''All? then he'll burst!'' exclaimed ]\Irs. 
 Kitty, darting out of the room. Mrs. Althea 
 began to laugh ; but she was so weak that the 
 laugh became a cry ; and she lay, weeping salt 
 tears, till the words occurred to her, " Call upon 
 me in the day of trouble, and I will answer 
 thee." And she called upon Him. 
 
 Shortly after the dinner-party at Bever 
 Hollow, Miss Roberta Rickards rode over, 
 through mud and mire, to call on Mrs. Glyn, 
 and ask her how she came to engage that 
 prodigious fine girl as governess. Mrs. Glyn 
 gave her very good reasons for it; but
 
 284 ^/^^ Ladies of 
 
 Miss Eickards remained of opinion that it 
 was a very dangerous experiment, and hoped 
 Mrs. Glyn might not come to think so, some 
 fine day. 
 
 Although Mrs. Glyn knew Miss Koberta's 
 ways of talking and thinking perfectly well, 
 and was by no means accustomed to take her 
 for an oracle, she was much annoyed by this 
 attack, and ruminated over it after her visitor's 
 departure. Since the evenings had become 
 long and a little dull, she had encouraged 
 Pamela, who was rising more and more in her 
 good opinion, to spend them in the drawing- 
 room. Pamela, who relished solitude and 
 society, but rather preferred the latter, when 
 agreeable, accepted this encouragement with 
 pleasure; and the three companions went on 
 most harmoniously. Sometimes Mr. Glyn read 
 aloud, — oftener to himself; sometimes he and 
 his mother played backgammon or cribbage;
 
 Bever Hollow, 285 
 
 sometimes Pamela threaded the old lady's 
 needle or recovered a dropped stitch in her 
 knitting; but, however it was, she was felt to 
 be an agreeable addition to the little party by 
 mother and son. Now, however, that Mrs. 
 Glyn had been made uncomfortable by Miss 
 Rickards, she began to consider whether this 
 sociability might be prudent, or whether it 
 might not be expedient for her to set Pamela 
 back in her old position. 
 
 Probably it was while she was thinking of 
 one thing and doing another, that the old lady, 
 coming out of her dressing-room that evening, 
 missed her footing on the highly waxed oaken 
 stairs, and slipped down. Pamela, hearing a 
 heavy fall and a cry, ran out of the school-room, 
 raised her in her arms, and, with the aid of 
 a servant, placed her in a chair. The accident 
 appeared serious ; Mrs. Glyn was not only 
 frightened, but much hurt, and desired to be
 
 286 'The Ladies of 
 
 carried up to her bed-room. This was with 
 some little difficulty accomplished. Pamela 
 assisted in undressing her^ and placing her in 
 bed ; and prevailed on her to allow Mr. Forest 
 to be sent for, though she would by no means 
 permit Mr. Glyn to be summoned from Squire 
 Heathcote's dinner-party. 
 
 Pamela placed herself beside the bed, to per- 
 form any little office of kindness that might be 
 needed ; and Mrs. Glyn seemed gratified by her 
 presence ; yet once or twice said, " You need 
 not stay; Hutchins can do for me; you can 
 go down." 
 
 " Why should I? " said Pamela ; " the little 
 girls are gone to bed. I hope, dear madam, you 
 will allow me to remain." 
 
 " Be it so, then," said Mrs. Glyn ; and, as 
 she closed her eyes, Pamela thought she desired 
 either sleep or silence, and sat perfectly still. 
 
 " A heavy fall is often a serious thing at my
 
 Bever Hollow, lij 
 
 time of life," said Mrs. Glyn, presently. " My 
 
 father had one, from which he never recovered." 
 
 " But, I dare say," replied Pamela, " that for 
 
 one fall that proves serious, there are fifty that 
 do not." 
 
 " Perhaps so, my dear ; but mine may be 
 
 that one. -If anything should happen," she 
 
 added presently, in rather an indistinct manner, 
 " you'll send for Mrs. Jay." 
 
 Pamela did not catch the name, nor did she 
 precisely know what Mrs. Glyn supposed might 
 happen ; but, thinking she seemed falling asleep, 
 she sat quite quiet, while Hutchins went down 
 to her supper. 
 
 Presently, Mrs. Glyn, rousing a little, mut- 
 tered, " Yes, send for Mrs. Jay — send for Sophia 
 
 Jay. Let her stay all the while, till — till 
 
 Oh, are you there, Sophia? " 
 
 Pamela remained sUent and still. She began 
 to think Mrs. Glyn was wandering a little.
 
 288 The Ladies of 
 
 This impression was confirmed, when Mrs. 
 Glyn, after some time, resumed — 
 
 " I suppose you have seen her, my dear. She 
 is a very nice girl indeed — one of a very large 
 family. I'm quite sorry to throw her out of 
 a situation; hut, you see, it would not do. 
 Roberta said it would not ; no, not exactly that, 
 because then it had not happened — I'm a little 
 confused. But she came over to warn me, I 
 think, because of something she'd seen or heard 
 — I don't know what it was — I never inquired. 
 I did not take it quite kindly of her ; but, my 
 dear, she meant it well." 
 
 Though Pamela had no clue to these broken 
 sentences, she had a glimmering of their sense 
 here and there, that sufficed to make her un- 
 comfortable. The time passed heavily. After 
 a long silence, Mrs. Glyn again spoke, but 
 more feverishly and impatiently. 
 
 *' It will never do ! " cried she. " She must
 
 Bever Ho/low. 289 
 
 go at once out of the house. There may be 
 a good deal of art in all this. I have known 
 3-oung girls very designing. I was quite blind, 
 I assure you, till Roberta came over, one morn- 
 ing, — Charles calls her a man in petticoats ; but 
 she is acute enough, for all that I did not 
 take it kindly of her at the time ; not at all ; 
 though I did not show it. We had hashed 
 venison that day — Charles dined out." 
 
 " We had hashed venison to-day," thought 
 Pamela. " Miss Eickards called this after- 
 noon, and Mr. Glyn is dining out. / must 
 be the designing girl ! Oh me, what shall 
 I do ? " 
 
 "Who's there?" cried Mrs. Glyn, sharply 
 and suddenly. 
 
 " Pamela, madam." 
 
 " My dear, give me your hand. How cool 
 it feels, and mine is so hot ! Stoop down over 
 me, and look me in the face." 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 29C> The Ladies of 
 
 Pamela did as she was desired, and Mrs. 
 Glyn looked hard at her. 
 
 " You are a pretty girl, and a good girl, I do 
 believe,'* said she. 
 
 " I hope I am the last, ma'am," said Pamela. 
 
 " Yes, yes; there— you may go." Murmur- 
 ing, as she turned her face to the pillow, " For 
 all that, she would never do." 
 
 The colour mounted into Pamela's face. Just 
 then, she heard a little bustle down stairs. 
 " Mr. Forest is come, I believe, ma'am," said 
 she. 
 
 " Raise me up a little, then," said Mrs. Glyn. 
 *' Higher ! higher ! I have slipped down from 
 my pillow." 
 
 Pamela, kneeling on the bed, took the old 
 lady under the arms, and with all her strength 
 was endeavouring to raise her nearer the head 
 of the bed, when George Mildmay entered. 
 Mr. Forest had been from home when the
 
 Bever Hollow, 291 
 
 messenger arrived. Mrs. Glyn was not well 
 pleased at the exchange of the elder partner 
 for the young one, and answered him ver}" drily. 
 He made out, however, that no bones were 
 broken ; but thought her head a little affected ; 
 prescribed a quieting draught, which happened 
 to be within reach, and assured Pamela there 
 was no need for her to sit up, as Mrs. Glyn was 
 more accustomed to the services of her maid, 
 whose nm'sing would be quite sufficient. 
 
 END OF FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 R. CLAY, PKIMEE, BKEAD STEEET HILl.
 
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