Victorian Women

To Whom She Said Yes - Chapter Eight

2010-01-13T03:35:00.000-08:00

OVERTAKEN

Shivering a little at the change from the warm hall to the northerly wind, Eden drew her scarf closer to her throat, and comforted herself with the thought that she should soon reach the shelter of the plantations.

But ere she had gone more than half way across the open ground she thought she heard a footstep behind her, and looked back, expecting to see Flip.

Her heart bonded joyfully at this proof that she was already missed and sought. it was so pleasant to think that everyone did not despise her because she was poor; but still she resolutely determined not to be induced by any arguments to return and expose herself a second time to Mrs. Merstham's ill nature.

However, it was neither of the Stretbys whom she saw approaching, but Captain Lyssendon, whose long strides were bringing him towards her so rapidly that she saw the impossibility of avoiding him, and, therefore, waited in grave silence until he came up.

"Miss Aubrey, you left us so suddenly that your friends had not time to provide you with an escort," he said, courteously. "Will you permit me to see you home?"

"Thanks; but Flip knows that I am never afraid to go alone. And," thought Eden, with a little touch of pique, "even were I willing to have a companion, you are the last person whose society I should care to accept, until I have learned to guard my tongue a little better."

She wished him good evening, and walked on, as if her civil refusal had settled the question; but still he kept beside her, saying that he could not think of allowing a lady to cross the lonely copses by herself.

"But if I prefer it, sir?" she asked, beginning to feel annoyed at his pertinacity.

"If that means that you expect some one to meet you, and I should be in the way," he retorted, significantly, "why, of course, I will leave you. If not, I may surely be permitted to see you in safety to the entrance of the village."

To this speech Eden made no other reply than a resentful flash of her brown eyes. What business had he - a stranger - to take such a significant tone, and utter insinuations that offended her modesty? He might - may, it seemed that he would - walk beside her if he pleased, and she knew not how to prevent it' but she would be so mute, that he should have no further opportunity of affronting her, nor carry away with him the flattering idea that his society had proved acceptable.

But Frank Lyssendon had seen that resentful glance, and availed himself of it to enter on his defence.

"You are very angry with me, Miss Aubrey, for forcing myself upon you in this way, and so I'll own at once that I followed you from the rink because I owe you an apology. Nay, pray hear me out. I was unpardonably insolent to you the other day. I don't know what evil spirit could have taken possession of me when I made myself so disagreeable. I daresay you have called me a bear and a brute in your thoughts ever since."

"I certainly have thought that you were very cross with me, and I knew I had not done anything - purposely, I mean - to deserve it."

"Of course you had not: the fault was wholly mine; and the only excuse that I can offer is, that something had occurred as my friends and I were on our way to The Beeches that very much vexed me; and when you avowed an intimacy with my cousin Verna -"

Eden's exclamation of astonishment caused him to stop suddenly.

"I did not know that you and Mrs Merstham were related. But I beg your pardon," she added. "Of course that is nothing to me. What I wanted to say is this: you forget that there can be no intimacy between a person in her position and one in mine."

"Yes, Mrs Merstham is my cousin," Captain Lyssendon repeated, speaking with much deliberation; "and some some years since we had a dispute about - money, which ended in a total estrangement. As is frequently the case when people quarrel, she thought herself in the right, while I considered myself so much aggrieved, that I did not wish to see her again; and when you hinted that she had been showing you a silly picture, which she ought to have burned..."

"How you jump at conclusions!" cried Eden saucily. "I could and would have told you, if you had not been too angry to listen, that she did not show me that picture, and that she never made any allusion to the gentleman who figures in it. On the contrary, when I remarked on the careful painting of the Romeo, she gave me to understand by her chilling silence that she considered me impertinent for noticing anything but the likeness of her own beautiful self."

"Every word you say makes me feel more and more ashamed of my diabolical fit of temper!" exclaimed Frank. "I must have been out of my senses - really I must! What! don't you believe me?"

For Eden was looking very much inclined to laugh at him.

"Believe that you think you were foolish to take any notice of my incautious remark? Oh yes! Because if you had only smiled at it, or just said, 'Oh! Indeed! there would have been no necessity for this long apology."

"But you do believe that I am more sorry than I can express for my rudeness to you? No, I don't think you do, for you are laughing again."

"I was thinking of Major Halliss. he told me that you are under his tuition, and I find that he has taught you some of his own - accomplishments, shall I call them?"

"Which of them?" asked Frank, now laughing too. "But no, don't tell me, for I really am neither exaggerating nor fibbing when I say that I have been looking quite anxiously for an opportunity of expressing my deep - my very deep regret -"

"Oh! don't go to the lowest depths of contrition for so slight an offence!" cried the amused Eden. "It has been a silly affair altogether. I ought not to have told my thoughts so hastily, and you - well, we will say no more about your little fit of temper. I have one myself sometimes."

"And so you are going to be merciful and forgive me?"

"If there is anything to forgive. You were cross, it is true; but then I have revenged myself by saying all sorts of spiteful things of you - only mentally of course. I do not mean to speak my thoughts aloud any more."

"Then, it's my turn to be magnanimous; and so, Miss Aubrey, I forgive you; but don't transgress again. When you think of me in future - and may it be often! - Let it be kindly, not spitefully."

"It shall - that is, if I ever do think of you," said Eden, demurely. "One sees so many strange faces at Mr Stretby's now, that it's impossible to remember them all."

"I'll contrive to keep myself in your remembrance somehow or other," was the reply. "Do you carry a note-book? If so, pray lend it to me. I only want to pencil down a few memorandums to assist your very treacherous memory."

"I have a book in my pocket," said Eden; but it contains notes of lessons for my little pupils. If you can give me a few facts concerning minerals and metals, or the British constitution, it is at your service; but not for any more ignoble purpose."

"I'll read up on those subjects, and let you have the results some other time," said Frank. "In the meanwhile, please write from my dictation: 'Mem. Not to forget that at the next skating party E. A. is to rink with F. L. Also, that E. A. is not to be induced to throw him over by any artifices Major Halliss may employ. Also, that she is to greet him at all times with sweetest smiles.'"

"Halte-la!" cried Eden. "It would be a waste of time and paper to write down resolutions that cannot be kept."

"Cannot, Miss Aubrey?"
"No; for I have already made two or three which render them null and void. Firstly, to rink no more."

he looked incredulous.

"I hope this is only a young lady's resolution, made that I may have the pleasure of persuading you to break it."

"If that is your idea of my sex's strength of purpose, I hope to have the pleasure of disappointing you," retorted Eden, with a pout.

"But why should you adhere to a resolve that sounds so - so unkind?" the young officer queried. "Pray tell me."

But Eden shook her head.

"As you despise young lady resolutions, I'm afraid young lady motives would have the same fate at your hands; therefore excuse me."

"Very well, Miss Aubrey," he said, assuming a resolute air. "As you refuse to confide in me, I'll resort to other means of bringing you to reason. I'll consult flip - she and I were sworn allies in bygone days, and we'll renew the alliance. I shall not be able to believe that you have taken me into favour again till we have had another hour together on the skates. It was such a delightful task, teaching you, that I felt quite envious when I saw it taken out of my hands this afternoon by Halliss. he is an officious puppy, and I hope you snubbed him well."

Eden laughed gaily.

"Oh ! he is a most amusing companion. The veracious style with which he tells the most absurd tales renders him an incomparable storyteller."

"Figuratively and literally," added Captain Lyssendon. "I should certainly like to hear you call me a pleasant companion; but I hope it will not be for the same reason. don't be obstinate, Miss Aubrey, but give me a chance of proving that I can be somewhat different from the surly fellow you found me the other day."

Eden put up her finger.

"I thought we had agreed to bury the past? And, while you talk, are you aware that you are getting far beyond the boundaries of Mr Stretby's estate? I'm afraid you will find yourself benighted before you can return to the house."

"And you?"

"I have only to run across this field, and I am at home; so I will bid you good-evening. Many thanks for your protection, although it was, as you perceive, quite unnecessary."

"Pray, don't thank me." he cried, gallantly, "for giving myself a delightful walk with a charming ---"

"Good night, sir," said Eden, so coldly that he hastened to retract what he had just said. she had laughed and chatted with him merrily enough, but he saw that he must not presume on her frankness. She was not so weak as to feel flattered by a compliment, but more disposed to regard it as an impertinence.

"Good-night, Miss Aubrey," he said, in very respectful tones; "but I must be allowed to repeat that I have had one of the most delightful walks I have yet enjoyed in this charming neighbourhood. It must be very pretty in summer."

"Very," said Eden dryly, for the ingenious turn he had given his speech had not deceived her. "I suppose I am not such an enthusiast as yourself, for I think the copses detestable when the paths are so muddy, and the air so raw. As you, however, consider it delightful, I'll not pity you for having to retrace your way. Although it is too dark to avoid the marshy places, you'll find it charming."

"Miss Aubrey, I don't like you when you are sarcastic."

"Captain Lyssendon," was the prompt retort, "I do not like you when you are ungentlemanly."

"Good heavens! what have I said to deserve such a charge as that?" he exclaimed, reddening, and gnawing his lip. "I hope you are not in earnest!"

Eden did not reply, but bestowed on him one quick, steadfast glance, which made him redden still more, hardy soldier and experienced man of the world though he was.

"I'll never plead guilty to having intentionally affronted you," he said softly; "so don't be too hard upon me for a foolish slip of the tongue!"

"You must bear in mind that you will have to turn to the left when you reach the clump of thorn trees," said Eden, coolly ignoring his last speech. "Unless you are careful to take the right path you will find yourself at Mrs Merstham's instead of The Beeches."

"I will remember every word you say to me," he answered, with unusual humility; "but may I not help you across this stile before I turn back?"

"Just as you please," said Eden, with a superb air of indifference.

Dud she know that all those subtle changes of mood, from reproachful to gay, from arch to haughty, made her positively fascinating to the young officer? Verna Merstham was a finished coquette, who enhanced her charms by every aid that dress of the mysteries of the toilet could bestow. Her attitudes were studied, her voice carefully subdued to the tone most likely to thrill her hearers, and her smiles, aided by the sudden raising or lowering of the lids that veiled her glorious eyes, enthralled the gazer. Yet Frank Lyssendon, who knew that those smiles would have rewarded him for holding out the olive branch, preferred to loiter here, and saw more to admire in the fresh, girlish beauty and bewitching frankness of Eden Aubrey.

He retained the hand she would have withdrawn as soon as she had crossed the stile, but it was in too respectful a manner to alarm or offend her.

"Is it peace, Miss Aubrey?"

It was not many who could have resisted the smile and pleading tone of the handsome militaire; but Eden steeled herself against them, and carelessly responded:

"Peace, did you say? I thought that word was hateful to the ears of a soldier. It shall be war if you prefer it."

"But I can assure you that I do not. a civil war is always repugnant to the feelings. And so we part friends, do we not?"

"Immutable ones, of course; for have we not known each other nearly three hours?" she archly queried.

"Is friendship measured by time?" he demanded.

"I suppose so' one couldn't reel it off by the foot or yard; or if we did, how much of mine should I have to award you? not the sixteenth of an inch; so small a particle, that you would lose it in the first puddle you have to wade through as you go back."

"But jesting apart' have you quite forgiven all my misdemeanours? No; I object to be put off with a smile that may mean fifty things. Let me have my acquittal by word of mouth."

"But jesting apart, as you say; perhaps Major Halliss's very promising pupil, like my sister Lottie, only pleads penitence to feel at liberty to transgress again."

"Not in this case, I assure you; so shake hands, and send me away happy."

but instead of complying, Eden retreated from him, and put her hands behind her.

"That last sentence spoiled the effect of your speech. do you have private theatricals at Aldenby? and was that a reminiscence of one of your attempts at the tragic?"

"I was quite serious I assure you."

"Quite? " and Eden looked so arch and incredulous, that he bit his lip again; but this time it was to keep back a smile. "Then I ought to have been very much affected. Why wasn't I? Oh, send me away happy! How exquisitely that was declaimed! I hope you'll give us another specimen of your talents at the Eastham penny readings. We're sadly in want of some one there to evoke our sensibilities."

"Go on," said Frank, resignedly. "I am at your mercy. Laugh at me - taunt me - mock me, I'll not complain; I daresay I deserve it all. The other day I was too rude; this afternoon I am too civil; but never mind, I shall hit the juste-milieu presently, and then, perhaps, Miss Aubrey -"

"And then you would be the first to acknowledge that Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle," retorted Eden, speaking lightly enough, but conscious the while of a pang at her heart.

Was she not speaking sober truth? This young officer - this relative of the wealthy Mrs Merstham - had certainly taken the trouble to follow her, and offer an apology for his ill-humour; but when next she met him, must she forget the wide gulf that the difference of their position placed betwixt them? or would he do so?

"Sobered by these thoughts," she added, in a graver tone, "it will be my turn to offer excuses if I stay her talking nonsense any longer. So once more, Captain Lyssendon, I will wish you adieu."

"Till when - till when?" he demanded, eagerly. "Have I not earned one little concession by my heroic endurance of all the buffets you have dealt me?" If I may not say let us be rinds, I may surely ask for one kind au revoir?"

"If I am not to laugh at you again," cried Eden, hastily, "You must not provoke me to it by attempting the sentimental. Pray go; you will never find your way back, if you let the night overtake you."

"Then you are resolved to be obdurate. do you think that it will drive me away in despair? Do you forget what Shakespere says? You draw me, you hard hearted adamant."

"He also says 'Men were deceivers, ever.' So don't provoke me to give you quotation for quotation; so many apt and bitter ones are crowding into my mind, that you would go back to Aldenby ashamed of your sex."

"But not of myself, if you condone my errors. Miss Aubrey, pray stop one moment" - for she was now waving him a farewell, and hurrying along the narrow field-path. "Will you not give me your hand, and promise to rink with me once - just once more?"

"And if I did?" said Eden, pausing, and looking back.

"If you did, I should be more grateful than I can express."

"Then I will not, for such excessive gratitude would bore me. Adieu, and shall I say au revoir?"

Having winged this parting shaft, Eden ran on again too rapidly to admit of his overtaking her. But when she reached the gate of the cottage garden, she stopped, and leaned against it, not only to recover breath, but to meditate.

"I'm afraid I've been flirting desperately," she avowed; "and with one of those dreadful Aldenby officers, as miss Olivia Tibbetts calls them; I'm sure I don't know why. are they really more wicked and heartless than other men? They are certainly very much nicer."

Oh fie! Eden, if Miss Tibbetts could have heard that!

"Major Halliss, and even this Captain Lyssendon, in spite of a little tendency to be presumptuous - for which I hoped I snubbed him sharply enough - have behaved to me as if were a lady, though only a poor one, and had a claim to their courtesy and respect; but it has been quite the reverse with the two or three of the farmers' sons who have condescended to recognise my existence, for they have made me hot and angry with their boorish ways. Shall I ever forget how indignant I felt when I overheard young Brown confiding to a companion that I wasn't a bad-looking girl, and might have been worth looking after, if I'd had any money. He, or such as he, to speak as if it would be a condescension to woo me!"

Eden stamped her little foot angrily, and clenched her hands with a passionate gesture; then smiled at her own folly.

"How silly I am to dwell upon such a trifle as the mere passing admiration of any man! Have not I mamma, whose love is worth more to me than fifty suitors? I'm afraid, though, she'll be half ashamed of her Eden when she hears how recklessly she has been chattering to a person she has never but once seen before. But I shall not feel easy till I have made confession, and kissed away her reproving hlooks. So, now to make a clean breast of it."

And Eden, who thought her courage might cool if she loitered any longer, darted into the house, threw open the parlour-door, and found herself confronting - not her mother, but a stranger.

to be continued...............

To Whom She Said Yes - Chapter Seven

2010-01-13T03:32:00.000-08:00

For the Second Time

"Why did you run away from us theother afternoon in such a hurry?" asked Flip, as she sat in Mrs Aubrey's parlour, waiting for her sisters to finish the romp into which they had beguiled Lottie after lessons. "I meant to come and inquire the reason yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, but pa has been breaking in a new horse - such a fiery rascal! - and, what with going out with him in case he should meet with an accident - get upset, or something of the sort, in one of these lonely lanes - and stopping at home with ma to keep her up if she was nervous about him, we have all had enough to do."

"So I suppose," said Eden, laughing at this rather incoherent explanation. "and, as I see you here now, I need not ask if the horse-breaking has been successfully accomplished."
Flip nodded.
"Yes; I think Mazeppa will do when his education is completed. We shall fire off a few cartridges close ot his ears to-morrow. As pa says, it's no use for us to have a brute that shies at a noise, like those stupid little ponies of Mrs Merstham's. She called upon us yesterday. Did I tell you?"
"Is she not a beautiful creature?" cried Eden, enthusiastically' but Flip made a wry face.
"She is what pa calla a re-markably fine woman, and she dresses well, and all that; but she didn't please me; for there's nothing jolly about her. Wasn't she civil to us? Oh! yes; she was civil enough; but those black eyebrows of hers go up every now and then , as if she felt very much astonished, and very much inclined to say so. Of course, it don't signify; if she thinks us odd, she's not the first that's done so; but one don't care to be eye-browed so much in one's own house."

"Still, she is very handsome." Eden persisted; "and the coldness of her manner may be owing to the solitary life she has been leading."
"Handsome! Why, so is our baby; and she never looked at him. Certainly, he wasn't at his best; for the twins had let him slip into the cistern, and we had wrapped him up in some cotton wool we happened to have handy till dry clothes could be aired. I think a sweet tempered face like ma's worth a dozen of your handsome ones. But how I am chattering! You haven't told me why you ran away. Papa scolded because he meant Rifles to have driven you home. You are going back with me now to make up for it."

"Thanks; but I'd rather not," Eden replied. "I have some work I want to finish."
"But you were going out for a stroll; then why shouldn't you walk to The Beeches with us, and take another lesson in rinking? 'The Boys' have promised to come over, so there'll be somebody to help you again."
"I should very much prefer to come when you are alone," said Eden decidedly. She had no desire to encounter the young man whom she had unwittingly contrived to provoke into such a fit of ill-humour.
"Lor. Why?" asked Flip. "Skating isn't half as jolly when there's no one to laugh at, or with you. but if you'd rather not - "
"Stop a minute; I've changed my mind. I will go with you, if you'll have me!" exclaimed Eden, running to the looking-glass to put on her hat in front of it, and give a touch to the coquettish little crimson bow at her throat, that brightened the sober gray of her costume. Why - she had suddenly asked herself, in a spirit of feminine wilfulness - why should she be deprived of an hour's amusement, because this pettish gentleman might chance to come in her way? She had no reason for avoiding him; and it would be pleasant to let him see, by the gay indifference of her manner, that she cared not whether he were pleased or offended.
It was, therefore, with the slightest possible recognition that she passed Frank Lyssendon, who was just donning his skates. Flip bade Rifles attend to Miss Aubrey; but, as the man was busy, and she did not choose to remain in such close proximity to the gentleman whose eyes were endeavouring to meet her own, she walked into the hall. Once there, she soon made her way to a seat beside the organ, around which Mr Stretby was wont to hover, expressing to everyone who came near his admiration of the genius who first hit upon the idea of making music discourse itself.

There was a larger gathering at Mr Stretby's rink than on the previous occasion. The fame of it had spread, and everyone at Aldenby barracks who could claim the slightest acquaintanceship with the hospitable gentleman was finding his way to The Beeches, and manoeuvering for invitations to the skating parties.
Flip and her sisters were quickly surrounded, and Eden smiled to see in what a frank, sisterly way they greeted everyone who approached them. No one ever thought of making love to or even getting up a flirtation with the Stretby girls; they would only have been laughed at for their pains, and teased unmercifully; so one and all fell into the brotherly familiarily, that made an afternoon spent at The Beeches very pleasant.

Besides the gentlemen Eden had previously seen, there were several fresh faces; amongst them Captain Vinson, who had been drawn thither by a hint that the beautiful widow had consented to join the rinkers. Mrs Merstham, her fine figure displayed to advantage by a black velvet skirt and jacket, trimmed with the fur of the silver fox, was gliding leisurely about the hall, with her hands in her muff, and her lip curved, as if she were secretly condemning the sport in which she had suffered herself to be persuaded to take a part.
With girlish curiousity, Eden watched her when Romeo - the only name by which she knew her pettish acquaintance of the preceding day - came near. She saw Verna draw her hand out of her muff, as if to offer it in friendly clasp; but the stiffness of the bow she received evidently deterred her. More than this, when Mrs Merstham dropped her fan, and looked helplessly round, Frank Lyssendon, who was certainly nearest to her, drew back, and let Captain Vinson pick up the costly toy, and restore it to its owner.

"No; they never could have been in love with each other," Eden concluded. "It must have been mere acting after all. Anyhow, the artist must have very much idealised, as Mrs Merstham expresses it, that stern face, to make it wear a look so impassioned and tender as the Romeo of his picture."

But, while Eden thus speculated on feelings to which she had no clue, Ensign Whiting, with a pair of lady's skates in his hand, was whispering to Major Halliss:
"I say Jimmy, no one's attending to that pretty Miss aubrey. I shall go and do the agreeable to her."
"My precious William, don't trouble yourself," said the Major, coolly relieving him of the skates. "I'll go and look after the young lady for you. It is a shame, that she should be neglected. Let me see: what did you call her? Aubrey - Miss Aubrey? thank you."

And the next minute Eden found him standing before her, and glibly apologising for the time that she had been kept waiting for skates, which he insisted on being allowed to buckle on.

"And now I am to have the honour of taking care of you, and to lie under the weight of Miss Flip's displeasure, if I let you come to grief," added the audacious Major.
"But are you quite sure that I may venture to trust myself with a gentleman who has so many falls himself?" asked Eden, half in fun, half in earnest.
"Quite sure," he replied, with his hand on his heart. "When I have only myself to take care of, I may indulge in little flights of fancy and sportive somersaults; but when a lady is on my arm, you'll find me as steady as Old Time. Try me; and if I don't answer to the character you're having with me, send me to the right-about quick march. Our mutual friends," he said presently, when he had so carefully guided Eden round the hall a few times that she had lost all fear - "our mutual friends are rather remiss; for they have not formally introduced us to each other. I know that you are Miss Flip's dear friend, and that you are named Aubrey - "
"And that I am the daughrer of the music mistress, residing at Eastham," added Eden, too proud and too frank to owe the attentions she was receiving to a mistake.
"I thought you had a muscial face!" cried the Major, whom nothing disconcerted - not even the quizzical smile with which his exclamation was heard, and the gravely-put question:
"What constitutes a musical face?"
"If I were to answer, you might, in your modesty, accuse me of flatering you; and, being a very truthful person, there's nothing pains me more than to have doubt cast on my veracity," was the reply. "When you know me better - By the by, do you know me at all? - my name, I mean?"
Eden avowed her ignorance. Flip had been so eager to join in the rinking that she had not stayed to answer the questions her companion would have liked to have put to her.
"Everyone here, except the Stretbys, Mrs Merstham, and our surgeon, are strangers to me," she confessed.
"Then I shall have the pleasure of acting as master of the ceremonies. Those be-whiskered fellows over yonder, whom Miss Lin is piloting, are cousins of mine; Lieutenant Colonel and Captain Lefoy. Observe the elegance of their movements, and the heavenly sweetness of the smiles they exchange as they blunder against each other!"
"Pray don't speak so loud, or you will be overheard," entreated Eden, struggling to control her laughter.
"And challenged to single combat by the afronted heroes? don't be alarmed. We give and take a great deal of chaff in the army. Yes, I know what that inquiring look means. You have a speaking face, Miss Aubrey. By the way, that play on words is original, I assure you. Your look asked if we were all military men. Yes, I too am one of those unhappy fellows who are sworn to die for their country; and I am called Halliss, Major James Hallis, a votre service, mademoiselle. What a happy combination we present Miss Aubrey. Beauty and chivalry."

"Is that gentleman an officer, too?" inquired Eden glancing shyly towards Frank Lyssendon, who was learning some intricate figure under the tuition of Venetia and Flip.
"Which one? The amiable boy who is practising the Dutch roll so perseveringly? Yes, that is Ensign Whiting, and the fellow whom he seems bent on tripping up is Vinson, another of my comrades in arms. Ah! I see now, at whom you are looking. Frank Lyssendon is one of the happy youths who has the benefit of my example and tuition. But I thought you knew him; were you not skating together the other day?"
"Yes; but I did not hear his name. Do you like Aldenby?" she added, hurriedly changing the subject.
"Do I like sand in my boots when I walk, in my food when I eat, in my glass when I drink, in my eyes whenever the wind blows?" he demanded with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "No Miss Aubrey, I do not; and, therefore, I consider Aldenby detestable. I once read of a person who dwelt in some such a district till the sand even pervaded her temper, and made that gritty . Although I am the most placable of men, I'm afraid that it will be my own case, if I'm not removed before long from my present quarters."
"Are you the only sufferer?" inquired the amused Eden.
"No; but the greatest, because I am of a more sensitive disposition than the rest. Now, there's Lyssendon - My dear Frank, get farther away, please; I was just going to abuse you to Miss Aubrey, and it's awkward to do it while you are within hearing."
"I dare say Miss Aubrey thinks that I deserve the worst you can say of me," said Frank trying, as before, to catch her eyes, for he felt that he owed her an apology, and would not have been sorry if a relenting smile had given him the assurance that he was forgiven.
But Eden chose to be blind and deaf to everything but Major Halliss's lively badinage, and she was proceeding to invite more of it by some question or other, when Mrs Merstham stopped before them, and asked Major Halliss to hold her muff, and his companion to assist her in looping up her dress.

Verna Merstham was not actually ill-natured, but she was soured and mortified by the consciousness that she had failed in the object that induced her to be civil to the Stretbys. To have married Frank Lyssendon when they were both poor would have been a sacrifice too great for one so ambitious; but now that she was not only wealthy, but free, she was quite willing to lure back her former captive. Had he been sullen or resentful she would have felt that he still wore her chains, but his studied avoidance of her, and chilling refusal to see her pleading looks, baffled her.
Already irritated by the failure of her efforts to draw him to her side, she was just in the humour to feel spiteful towards the mere child, the obscure girl, whose rippling laughter grated on her ear, and who, without half her own charms, was monopolising one of the gayest, best looking officers on the rink. As far as she was concerned, she did not care a jot for Major Halliss, and possibly would have snubbed him, as she had just snubbed Captain Vinson, if he had presumed to approach her; but she was seized with a fit of angry annoyance that Eden should be so much happier than herself.

What business had she - the music mistress's little daughter - to be here at all? Was it some inexplicable foreboding that made Verna Merstham suddenly resolve that this presumptuous girl must be swept out of her path, and compelled to feel her insignificance?
It is not always possible to analyse the motives of our actions, and the beautiful woman who possessed all the advantages of wealth and station could scarcely have told why she was seized with this longing to sting the innocent girl, whose only crime was that she was happy.

"You have not been to see me lately," she said, in patronising tones. "Have you forgotten that I am in your debt for the hours I employed you as a model? But no; it is not likely you would forget that. I have been thinking that perhaps you would be glad to get more work of the kind, unless you think it pays you better to be a daily governess."

Eden's cheek grew crimson. Although she knew no reason why Mrs Merstham should dislike her, she intuitively comprehended that it was that lady's deliberate intention to humiliate her in the presence of Major Halliss. She also knew that Captain Lyssendon, who had stopped to do something to his skate, was near enough to have heard all she said.
"She thinks that these gentlemen do not know how poor I am and that I ought to be punished for putting myself on an equality with them. My birth may be as good as theirs, but I am poor, and she would set her haughty foot upon me. Oh! She is cruel!"
As these thoughts swiftly passed through the girl's throbbing heart, she was seized with a passionate longing to be able to retaliate; but also had too strong a sense of her womanly dignity to yield to it, and the next moment was gently ansering:
"I will tell mamma what you say. I am sure she will decide what is best for me. I shall never be ashamed to work for her, even as she has worked for me ever since papa died. You were speaking of Aldenby, Major Halliss. Mamma had pupils offered her in the family of one of the officers, but the distance was too great. It is, however, a pretty walk in summer."

He took the cue, and, as he led her away, resumed his gay chat; but Eden now listened to him with but forced smiles. Her enjoyment was at an end. She had been reminded by Mrs Merstham's ill-nature that it was growing late, and that she must hasten, if she would reach home before twilight.

Pleading fatigue, she sat down, and, while he skated away to get her a glass of the wine Rifles was decanting at a side table, she contrived to catch hold of Venetia, say her adieux, and in a very few minutes was walking rapidly across the park by the now well trodden route that led through the copses toward her mother's cottage.

To Whom She Said Yes - chapter Six

2009-11-19T02:14:00.000-08:00

A First Attempt

On that same afternoon, Eden Aubrey sat in the little parlour of her mother's cottage, looking weary and flushed with her efforts to engage the attention of her pupils. Mrs Aubrey had been persauded to consent for the twins to share Lotty's lessons, and H and P, having taken a liking to pretty Miss Aubrey, came with tolerable regularity to receive her instruction.

They were not intractable girls, and they had a fair share of intellect, but the scrambling life, to which they had always been accustomed, made it very difficult to induce them to study with any degree of regularity. Sometimes their minds were so absorbed in the marvellous good qualities of their last new pet - they had them of all kinds - that Eden's lessons were continually interrupted in some such fashion as this:

"The first king of England was - was - oh! Bob the donkey; what do you think he did, Miss Aubrey? he got into the conservatory and kicked up his heels against a tall pile of flowerpots; it was such a jolly smash, you can't think!-"

"Or 'fifty shillings are two pounds ten; that's just what papa gave for the white cockatoo, and she swears so dreadfully that Lin has been obliged to shut her up in a room by herself."

Sometimes they would burst in, loaded with gay pieces of silk and satin, for Lottie to convert into dresses for her dolls. They had taken a great fancy to Eden's quiet, delicate little sister, and regarded her achievements in doll-dressing as marvels of taste and elegance. Or they came accompanied by one or other of the many dogs about Mr Stretby's establishment, and then it would be difficult to say which proved the more unmanageable, the animal or his young mistress. On two occasions they contrived to steal the baby out of the nursery, and brought him with them; and how could Eden teach while they would persist in stopping in the middle of repetition to nod and laugh at their prize, or express their fears that he must have put one of his toys too far down his throat, as he looked as if he were choking.

However, she persevered; and a hint from her amused mother inducing her to introduce story-telling into her routine, they were enthralled by her graphic recitals, for she possessed the gift of telling a story well. They received the instruction thus conveyed with great docility. It is true that they sometimes confused what they had heard, and that Eden was shocked to find them firmly convinced that Oliver Cromwell not only murdered the little princes in the tower, but guillotined Louis the Sixteenth. It often cost her a great deal of pains to unravel the tangled skein of their ideas, but still she had gained their ears; they came to her willingly, and if she could not hope to convert them into clever scholars, she was certainly instilling a little more knowledge into their minds than they had hitherto stood any chance of obtaining.

"You've got to go back with us, this afternoon Miss Aubrey," said Hyacinthe, unceremoniously, as she began to twist herself into her fur jacket. "Flip gave me a message for you, but that's allI remember of it."

"Let me help you, dear; it does not look nice to see you struggling into your clothes in that fashion," said Eden, gently pressing down the arms that were raised above the child's head, as if she were going to draw a sack down upon it. "Does our sister really want me for anything?"

"Oh, yes! and so she did yesterday, only you didn't go to her."

"How coud I? You brought me no message. I saw nothing of you."

"Oh! That was because an old woman's pig got out of it's sty as we were coming through Eastham." Persis explained, "and we gave chase - H and I. You never saw such a pig to run, Miss Aubrey! Away it went over the green, and through a hole in a hedge, and then across a cabbage-garden! We should have had it there, only I fell over a stump and it wasn't caught till it had led us into a bog, where I left one of my boots - the one with the broken lace - and had to hop home the best way I could. So you see it wasn't our fault that we weren't here," she complacently added, in conclusion.

"You'll go back with us, Miss Aubrey?" queried her sister. "Flip and Lin both told us that we were on no account to show orselves without you."

Eden was nothing loth; for there was always a cordial welcome for her at The Beeches. Mrs Merstham, since the day she sat for the picture, merely acknowledged her with the coldest of bows; but the more genial Stretbys never varied in their demeanour. The Misses Tibbetts, amongst the first to call on the new-comers, had hinted to dear Mrs Stretby their surprise that she permitted her daughers to make a companion of Eden Aubrey, whose mother was only a Frenchwoman and a music-mistress, but placid Mrs Stretby either did not or could not understand them, and merely replied that Eden was so nice, that she did not wonder at the girls being so fond of her. That they ought to treat with discourtesy the ladylike, obliging young creature, whose only crime was her poverty, never entered the heads of this unworldly family, and Eden might have spent half her time at The Beeches if she had not had home duties, which her otherwise-indulgent mother would not permit her to neglect.

This afternoon, however, she could go there with a clear conscience. Lotty had an important affair on hand: the ironing of a week's wash for one of her waxen and china babies, and promising to be home in time to make tea for mamma, Eden hastily dressed and accompanied her pupils.

Mrs Stretby was alone in the drawing-room when they entered it, dozing in front of a blazing fire; but she woke up to inform Eden and the twins that they would find everyone else at the rink, which they were trying for the first time.

Across the grounds to the pretty gothic building, which had been hastily patched up and rendered weather-proof, dashed H and P, eager to share in the amusement, and Eden more leisurely followed them. She had never seen anything of the kind, and anticipated some pleasure from looking on, but as soon as she entered the building, Flip, who was waiting her appearance in a king od lobby or ante-chamber, pounced upon her.

"Then here you are at last! Rifles, a pair of skates for Miss Aburey! Sit down, Eden, and let him strap them on. You can't skate? Well, what of that? No more cold I till some one taught me, and I'm going to teach you. It's quite easy, and jolly fun, I can tell you!"

As it was no use resisting, the laughing Eden submitted to have the wheeled-skates buckled on her feet, and then the impetuous Flip again took possession of her.

"Now give me your hands. Steady! don't be afraid."

And skating backwards, she drew Eden into the hall, then suddenly released her, saying: "There, now all you have to do is to slide forward, first on one foot, and then on the other. You'll learn faster if you're left entirely to yourself, so strike out boldly, just as you see me do."

With the ease and grace of a practised skater, away went Flip, and Eden, attempting to follow her example, subsided on to the asphalte. There she sat for a minute or two in too much confusion to stir; but presently struggling to her feet again, she contrived to get as far as one of the slender columns that supported the roof, and clinging there bagan to look around.

The twins darted by, kissing their hands to her as they went, and at the other end of the hall she saw their sisters and Mr Stretby, the Doctor, and his wife - a pleasant, homely young couple - and some gentlemen, who were strangers to her - all engaged in gliding through the figures of a set of quadrilles. They were rinking to the sound of a large, self-acting organ, a purchase on which Mr Stretby very much prided himself, though the works not being in the best of order, it was not always certain whether the tune it was playing could be "Adeste Fideles" or "the Blue Danube Waltzes."

When Eden's eyes had become accustomed to the scene, she found plenty in it to divert her. Venetia Stretby and her sisters had leaned the art of skating long ago in the frostier clime of Canada, and their evolutions were as daring as they were graceful The quadrille over, they began to circle round the hall, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes describing figures of eight, and proving themselves adepts in everything they attempted. Eden thought that she had never seen them appear to so much advantage, though she could not include Mr Stretby in her praises.

He went by her, smiling placidly, it is true, but with his tall angular figure drawn up as at attention, and looking as if skates and all had been cut out of one solid piece, and forgotten to be jointed.

The strangers, though not unaccustomed to the amusement, were evidently troys compared with their host and his daughters. One of them, a tall youth, known to our readers already as Ensign Whiting, was rashly skating backwards in imitation of Flip, whose fearlessness had won his admiration; but the result was not always satisfactory, and his frantic efforts to save himself from the falls that menaced him, his wild grasps at the air, and his look of relief when he succeeded in recovering his equilibrium once more, convulsed Eden with mirth.

His companion, Major Halliss, was even more daring and more unfortunate, for every attempt he made at figure-skating ended in a fall. How many times he measured his length on the asphalte it would be difficult to calculate; but still he proved indomitable. No matter how heavily he came to the ground, still laughing and shaking himself, he would rise again and again, and make fresh starts with a perseverance and stoicism that led Eden to ask at last:

"Is he made of flesh and bones, like ourselves, or India-rubber?"

The words unconsciously spoken aloud were answered by some one who had approached her unseen.

"He is very hardy and persevering. Don't you think so? Does not the sight of his courage inspire you with a little? You have been standing here so long, that Miss Streby bid me tell you that hugging a post was not in the instructions she gave you."

Thus suddenly addressed, and afraid to turn and confront the speaker lest she should find herself at his feet, Eden only knew that it was a gentleman in a grey suit, irreproachable in style and fit, who was standing by her. However, he must be answered, and she conquered her embarrassment to say:

"I think I was very foolish to let myself be persuaded to put these skates on, for this is the first time I have seen rinking practised. If you will be so kind as to ask Rifles to come and take them off for me, I shall feel obliged."

"Before you have made a trial of them? But that would be a pity. I assure you it is very easy."

"To skate or to fall?" querried Eden.

"Well, perhaps, both." was the laughing reply. "But if you will let me help you, I will take care that you shall not do the latter."

"Thanks, but Flip assured me I should learn best by myself," said Eden, hesitatingly.

She longed to accept the assistance thus courteously offered, yet a dread of appearing awkward deterred her.

"Let me prove to you that Ma'amselle Flip is not always right. I am sure you would get on better with a little help from me. Will you not be persauded to try?"

When Frank Lyssendon had skated up to the girl, whom he saw clinging to the column, it was simply to deliver Flip's message, and then return and finish his chat with the doctor, for he was not in a social humour this afternoon, and had already drawn upon himself the reproach of being sulky and lazy from Venetia, who treated him with the careless familiarity she would have bestowed on a brother or cousin. But when he looked down at the pretty and youthful face of Eden Aubrey, and saw her left so entirely to her own resources, he felt as if it would be ungenerous to skate away, and leave her shut out, as it were , from the amusement of the rest.

Another persuasive speech, and she had shyly consented to twine her arms in his, and make the circuit of the hall. She was both light and active, and his firm, yet gentle grasp, soon relieved her of all feeling of insecurity. A little while, and she could balance herself admirably; a little longer and with her lithe form steadied by her partner, she was flying round the rink, and timing her movements to the measured cadences of the music. Major Halliss, who was on the floor again, forgot to pick himself up, as he watched the pair float past, and Ensign Whiting anathematised himself as an idiot, for not having perceived how very pretty the little girl was, and gone to her assistance before Lyssendon robbed him of his chance. Mr Stretby, standing by to rest awhile, clapped his hands approvingly, as soon as Eden and her supporter came near, and Flip and Lin, wheeling round and round their course, predicted that she would soon rival them. The time had fled but too quickly when she was obliged to confess that she ws getting breathless and giddy, and was carefully led to a seat, Captain Lyssendon skating away again to borrow the fan hanging at Venetia's girdle to cool the flushed cheeks of his pretty partner.

It was not till he was returning, that Eden - hitherto so much engrossed in her efforts to preserve her footing as to have scarcely glanced at him - obtained a full view of her new acquaintance. He was as tall as the Ensign, but more robust and his naturally fair complexion had been darkened by exposure to weather. His brown moustache partly concealed his mouth, yet when he smiled, as he met the intent look of Eden, it was by that she recognised him. Yes, there could be no doubt of it; he was the Romeo of Mrs Merstham's water-colour drawing; and, forgetting that he was observing her, and even wondering at her abstraction, she sat, noting the changes that had swept over his face since the artist, availing himself of the moment when it glowed with passionate idolatry for the beautiful Verna, transferred the record of that love to his canvas.

And what were those changes? Ah! Eden Aubrey was too inexperienced to have divined how strangley and sadly the bitterness of a great disappointment, and the gnawing sense of injustice, stamps itself on the character, as well as the features; but she could see that the ingeniousness of youth had vanished from the brow; that the eyes were not only darker, but sterner; and that, if the lips could still smile almost as sweetly as then, it was but seldom. They now closed too firmly over the white teeth, or if they parted, it was more frequently in mockery than mirth; and, handsome though that face must undeniably be called, there was a tinge of recklessness and scorn of the world's opinions, and defiance of the promptings of his better self, that marred its noblest outlines.

In her innocence and ignorance, she guessed but dimly what this meant. He was older than when that sketch had been taken, and graver - ah! yes - and sadder. could it be that Mrs Merstham had not used him well, this Romeo, who must have loved her so dearly?

"Well, and what is the result?" asked Frank, quizzically, as he stood and fanned her.

Eden started from her reverie with a blush.

"The result? Of what? Of the trouble yo are taking? Oh! That I am cooler already."

"Don't affect to misunderstand me. did you think I could not see that you were studying my character? Perhaps all young ladies adopt some favouurite ology, yours may be phrenology. Shall I take off my hat? and if I do, will you tell me which are most prominent, my good organs or my bad ones?"

"You are quizzing me," said Eden "But I daresay I deserve it for being so foolish."

"I never think a young lady foolish for looking at me, provided she looks kindly; but you do not tell me what conclusions you came to."

"That I had seen you before," said Eden, regretting the avowal as soon as it had been uttered. "Telling the truth is my best and only excuse for behaving oddly."

"I think it is I who ought to make excuse," Captain Lyssendon exclaimed, "for not being able to recall the name of a lady whose better memory enables her to tell me that this is not our first meeting. I will fetch one of the Misses Stretby, and she shall introduce me in proper form."

"Oh! no; I beg that you will not!" cried Eden, her embarrassment increasing. "I ought to have told you - or they ought - that I m not a friend of the family, but only the governess of the younger girls; and - and I did not mean that we have really met, but that I have seen your portrait. That is all, I assure you; pray think no more of it!"

But Frank Lyssendon's curiosity was now fully aroused, and he persisted in questioning her.

"You have seen a portrait of me! Indeed! May I ask when, and where?"

But Eden was silent. It was by accident she had beheld that picture, and as the Juliet he had then wooed had become the wife and widow of another, it was not all likely that he would care to be reminded of the past.

"Will you not tell me?" he asked. "Is there any secret attached to this little confession?"

"If there is, it is not mine," she answered, more steadily. "When you hear that it was by chance I saw the portrait, you will acknowledge that I am not justified in saying more."

Suddenly his brow darkened, and the eyes that had been gazing at her with a blending of curiosity and amusement, lost their pleasant light.

"As you have avowed thus much, young lady, you may as well tell me the rest, or I may come to the conclusion that you and the possessor of that picture have been heartlessly amusing yourselves at my expense. I have no doubt that there are women who are coarse and unfeeling enough to preserve every token they can gather together of men's youthful folies, that they may display them to their confidantes, and entertain them with recollections which, had they any womanly feeling, they would be ashamed to revive."

In his excitement he had snapped the sticks of the fan he was holding, and Eden who knew that Venetia valued it, was divided between her anxiety to rescue it from utter destruction, and her regret that her incautious avowal had offended him.

"Were you prompted to remind me of that picture?" he queried, so sternly, that Eden's spirit was roused, and with flashing eyes she retorted upon him.

"Why do you interrogate me in that tone? I told you truly, that I have seen what I believe to be your likeness, but I do not know your name, nor anything concerning you. I have never been in Mrs Merstham's house but twice, nor am I likely to go there again. I am sorry that anything I have said should have annoyed a person who has been kind to me, but I do not think the fault is wholly mine."

She beckoned to Rifles, who relieved her of the skates, and then, bending her head slightly to Captain Lyssendon, she quitted the hall and hurried home.

"Have you had a pleasant afternoon, petite?" Mrs Aubrey inquired, as they sat at tea.

"Yes - and - no, mamma. How is it that your silly daughter contrives to give offence without intending it?"

"If you would not be so impulsive, my Eden!" sighed the mother when she had heard the history of her child's troubles.

But with many promises of amendment, the slight frown was kissed from her brow, and the subject prudently vanished.

To be continued.............

To Whom She Said Yes - Chapter Five

2009-11-13T03:16:00.001-08:00

Frank Lyssendon

When the barracks at Aldenby were full, the last comers were generally drafted into tents, in the summer, and long rows of huts in the winter - low wooden erections dating from the Crimean war, and certainly neither comfortable nor picturesque; although many efforts were made to redeem their ugliness by laying out the surrounding space in flower beds, and covering the walls with climbing plants.

In one of these huts, of which the furniture was sparse, and all of that portable nature which is handiest to a military man, sat the original of Verna Merstham's sketch of Romeo. His American folding-chair was tilted back to enable him to rest his legs on the table; his eyes were riveted on the novel he had santched up half an hour earlier when he had come in from a long morning on the parade ground, and he was smoking a quaint little pipe, the gift of an Indian chief.

His dress was as degagé as his attitude, for his sword-belt had been unbuckled and tossed aside with his cap; his tunic was unbuttoned, and his boots exchanged for slippers. He might have sat there till it was time to dress for dinner, if his solitude had not been noisily invaded by a brother officer, the Major Halliss, whom Mr Stretby had mentioned while conversing with Mrs Merstham.

"Just as I expected," said the Major, with a twinkle of his merry dark eyes. "If you don't get lazier and lazier every hour of your miserable life. You'll grow to that chair some day. Is this the way you keep your promises?"

"To myself, yes," was the reply, as the young man dropped his book, and, leaning back to yawn more comfortably, folded his arms behind his head. "I made up my mind to have a quiet afternoon, to compensate for all the fagging old Fitz gave us this morning. Why did you come and disturb me?"

"Because you are due at Stretby's in half an hour. I told him to expect us about three o'clock. His rink is ready for use, and we shall have a jolly time of it. Come, Frank, slip into your coloured clothes, and be quick about it."

"But, my good fellow, I never agreed to go," his friend remonstrated, without stirring except to dodge the nutshell flipped at his nose.

"Never mind that. I promised and vowed it for you. I told Stretby I should be obliged to bring you with me, for you were never happy away from your beloved brother-in-arms, and he was quite touched at such a proof that your wits were sprouting as well as your moustache."

"How far is it to The Beeches?" asked Frank Lyssendon, glancing irresolutely at the window, through which the sun of a January day was shining.

"Three miles - not more."

"Not more! The coolness of asking one to walk three miles, and then rink for a couple of hours, after what I have ploughed through today. Get you to some greater flat than myself, Jimmy Halliss, for I'll none of you."

He stretched out his hand for his book, but with a switch of the Major's cane it was jerked beyond his reach.

"Frank, don't be a fool!"
"No - no, my dear boy; I leave that to you."
"Then you're an idiot, and that's worse; do you know the consequences of lounging about like a woman, reading novels, and smoking bad tobacco? Look at me and tremble! I used to indulge in such habits, and now its the trouble of my life to keep my weight down. I'm so horribly plump, that I shall have to starve myself if there isn't an alteration. Neither my daily labours at the gymnasium, nor on my bicycle, nor the rides I take, suffice to reduce my figure to its proper proportions. A little embonpoint is not unbecoming to me; but it would convert you into a fright; so take warning. You're not much to look at now, but you might be worse; so, dress and be thankful that you've a friend at your elbow always ready to point his precepts with example."

"who's going besides you?" inquired Frank, raising himself into a sitting position.
"Sweet William - I like the boy, although he is the greatest blunderer that ever existed - and Vinson. I saw him before his looking-glass, oiling his hair, about an hour and a half ago, so I daresay he's nearly ready by this time. I wish you wouldn't put me to the trouble of talking so much; it makes me thristy, got any soda or seltzer?"

"There's a coule of bottles in that cupboard, and some sherry. Vinson and Whiting going with you? Ah! then you'll not want me. Drink your soapsuds, and depart. Bless you my boy, and farewell! Hand us that book before you go, and let me be happy my own way."

"With pleasure," said Halliss, jerking the volume to the other end of the room; "but I'm not gone yet. As soon as I have swallowed all your sherry, I shall read you a lecture on the sin of ingratitude. Stretby was like a father to you, you young bear! When you first went to Canada; and now you think it too much trouble to walk three miles to shake hands with him."
"Oh, bother!" cried Frank, springing to his feet, and kicking off his slippers; "I suppose I shall have no peace if I don't go with you. but no, I won't!" and he sat down again. "Look here, Jimmy' I like the Stretbys, one and all, and I should be pleased to renew the acquaintances; but there's a relative of mine living in their neighbourhood, whom I don't care to meet."

"Then come with me by all means. Don't you know that if you try to keep out of the way of a bore, you're certain to rush into his arms? but if you go where you make sure of meeting him, it's nine chances to one if you do."

Frank laughed, and began pulling off his regimental tunic. "Yours may be logical reasoning; but it isn't very convincing. However, I'll be guided by it for once; so here goes."
"If it's an affair of money," said the Major, "I've often declared that I'd share my last shilling with you. I'd rather you did not ask me to do so today, because I'm not quite certain whether there's one left in my purse to share! but I shall be in funds again next week, and if a loan - "
"Thanks!" cried Frank Lyssendon, colouring high; "but it's not a question of cash. Say no more. There's those fellows at the door; let them in and I'll be ready in a few minutes."

The Major admitted his friends, and, having accommodated them with the only chairs the hut contained, returned to his own seat on the table; from that post of observation he surveyed them, and admired the camelia in vinson's button-hole, making that gentleman turn pale with suppressed anger by inquiring confidentially if his washerwoman's daughter sent it home in his clean linen. But he did not venture on any further jesting with him, having learned by expereince that it was dagerous.

Captain Vinson was a very polite little man, always precise, always punctual, very moral and discreet, and never in debt or disgrace. Colonel FitzGeorge was wont to say that he was quite a credit to the regiment; yet no one really liked him, and it was well known that an offence given to Basil Vinson was neither forgotten nor forgiven until an opportunity had occurred for repaying it with interest.

But the restless Jimmy, who could bear the sharpest cuts with invincible good humour, and was always the first to laugh at his own mistakes, could not be quiet long; so he turned his attention to the young Ensign, whom he had dubbed Sweet William, asking him seriously if he thought his mamma would approve of his visiting at a house where there were half a dozen unmarried daughters! and if he was aware that Mr Stretby had fought no fewer than twenty duels with presuming youths who had ventured to shake hands with them, and then protested that they had no intentions!

Finding that Ensign Whiting was not to be daunted by these mysterious hints, he was doing his best to make the lad unhappy by discovering that his coat was not cut properly, and that he had seen the ring and breast-pin he had just bought, worn the previous week by a Jew clothesman, when Frank Lyssendon pronounced himself ready to start.

As they quitted the hut, Ensign whiting, encouraged by the sly chuckles of the Major, contrived to get behind Vinson, and mimicked with boyish mischief, the walk and gestures of the apparently unconscious officer. But his mirth was followed by an exclamation of pain and an impromptu dance on one leg, for Vinson suddenly stepped back, affecting to stumble, and planted the heel of his neat boot on the lad's toe with crushing force.

Nothing could be more civil than his apologies. He was so profuse in his expressions of astonishment at his own clumsiness, and his hopes that he had not been as unlucky as to step on a pet corn, that Whiting, after his first wild contortions of agony, stifled his feelings, and heroically declared that it was not worth mentioning - that he was scarcely hurt at all; but as he limped beside frank, he whispered the question:
"Don't you believe that he did it on purpose? I do. I forgot that he could see me in that glass that hangs over Lyssendon's stove. I gave him a poke in the ribs with a foil at the Gym. the other day - just in fun, you know - and he appeared to take it quite pleasantly. But he challenged me yesterday to a bout at singlestick, and I was fool enough to feel flattered by his selecting me; but, by George! I never had such a drubbing before; my bones ache when I think of it and I was so simple as to take it all in good part, till Filder - the Captain, of the Gym., you know - says to me when he'd gone, 'you got it hot and strong, then, young 'un. What had you done to offend him?'"
"He never falls foul of me," said Frank, quietly. "Shall I tell you why? Because I let him alone."

"That's just what I'm not inclined to do," grumbled the Ensign. "There's nothing I should enjoy more than pitching into him."

"Better not. He's too strong for you, and it don't do. We may not always like our brother officers; but we are thrown together, and may as well make the best of each other. Besides, such horseplay as you indulge in is ungentlemanly."

"By George! I've seen you as ready for a spree as anyone!" retorted Whiting.
"I should hope so; but there are sprees and sprees, oh! William, don't you know that yet? Jimmy!" he shouted, to the Major, "look here, my bounding boy! What an excellent constitutuional it would be for you if you were to run Whiting from this gate to yonder oak! It's a capital piece of flat road."

The young men were walking along a quiet country lane, where they were not likely to be interrupted by many passers-by, and the Major, who was proud of his skill in all athletic exercises, immediately agreed to the proposal. But just as they were taking their places for the start, and Captain Vinson's watch was in his hand to time them, the trampling of horses arrested their attention, and a phaeton came in sight, drawn by two ponies, over which the driver - a lady in half-mourning - had lost all control.

Though so frightened that every vestige of colour had fled from both cheek and lip, she steadily kept her place and her hold on the reins; but whither the animals - startled by the sudden firing of a gun on the other side of the hedge - would have borne her, or how she would have escaped severe injury, there is no knowing, if Frank Lyssendon had not rushed forward, and boldly grasped their heads, as they came clattering by.

He did not succeed in retaining his hold, but the check thus given them enabled Captain Vinson to seize the reins, and his firmer hand compelled them, after a short, sharp, struggle, to succumb. Then the lady, who had neither screamed nor spoken, sank back in her carriage, and covered her eyes with her hands for a moment, as if overcome at the thought of the perilous position from which she had just been rescued.

When she looked up again, and tried to smile her gratitude to the gentlemen who had come so promptly to her assistance, Captain Vinson, enthralled by her beauty, pressed forward; but Frank Lyssendon recoiled, muttering to himself;
"Verna! Good Heavens, it is Verna!"

While the others patted and soothed the now trembling ponies, and congratulated the lady, who thanked them with much grace for the aid they had rendered her, he continued to stand aloof, till she caught sight of him, and glanced inquiringly at his face. Then her own grew crimson, and she seemed uncertain whether to appear as if she had not recognised his features, or boldly address him. But his own presence of mind had, by this time, returned, and, lfiting his hat, he courteously accosted her.

"I was just asking myself whether I dared hope that Mrs Merstham wouuld remember an old acquaintance, Frank Lyssendon, of the 160th."

Deeper still grew the flush upon her cheek. Perhaps she would have been better pleased had he manifested more emotion, but trying in vain to emulate his unembarrassed manner, she held out her gloved fingers, saying, in a tremuless whisper:
"I never foret old friends, but I did not know till lately that you were in the neighbourhood."

"We have not been long at Aldenby," he answered, carelessly. "May I introduce to you the gentlemen who have had the pleasure of being of some service to you?"
"I shall be most happy to know any friends of yours," said Verna, softly; but the young man's brows only contracted as he heard this, and he hastened to name his companions in succession; then drew back, while Vinson, whose eagerness contrasted strongly with his own coldness, begged to be permitted to drive Mrs Merstham home; protesting that, unnerved as she must be by what had happened, it would never do to take the reins herself.

Mrs Merstham glanced at Frank, but he would not see that half-entreating look, and sharply biting her lip, she accepted the escort of Vinson, who stepped with alacrity into the phaeton, and seated himself beside her.

"I believe there are a few fine pheasants in my plantations," Verna said, as she bowed her adieux. "If either of you gentlemen feel disposed to come and shoot them, my people will give you any information you require, and my luncheon hour is two o'clock. I hope no one will wait for a more formal invitation. I am a brave soldier's daughter, so I could not regard you as strangers, even if I did not owe you my life."

She looked back to bow and smile once more as she was being driven away, but it was only the Major and Whiting who responded, for Frank Lyssendon was walking along with his hands thrust deeply into his pockets, and his eyes bent on the ground.

"I say, Frank," Major Halliss suddenly exclaimed, "is this lady - this Mrs Merstham, the relative to whom you were alluding?"
"Yes," was the brief and snappish reply.
"Ha! hum! I think I begin to understand the state of affairs."
"I don't think you do; and I'll thank you not to mention her name to me again."

This was said so sharply, that the Major shrugged his shoulders and promised compliance.

to be continued.........

To Whom she said Yes - Chapter Four

2009-11-09T01:59:00.000-08:00

Eden's mind was still busy with the proposal thus abruptly made when she set off on the following morning to keep her appointment at Mrs Merstham's. She had been eager for some time past, to be allowed to give her mother some assistance in providing for their little household; but hitherto Mrs Aubrey had put her off with loving assurances that it was unnecessary - that the profits accruing from her own teaching made a sufficient addition to the small - very small - income she already possessed.

But Eden was too affectionate a daughter to be satisfied with this; and she was too young and inexperienced to comprehend how Mrs Aubrey, who had transferred to her first-born all the passionate love she had felt for her husband, dreaded exposing her child to the annoyances and slights that often fell to her own lot. It was one of her greatest consolations to know that when she returned home she should find Eden awaiting her, with the happy smiles of untroubled girlhood beaming in her eyes. It would be time enough for her darling to go for the an d toil in the cold, rude world when she was no longer able to do so; and thinking thus, she evaded Eden's pleas to be made useful.

Of late, too, more ambitious thoughts for her daughter had begun to fill her mind. Eden's voice promised to be a soprano of exquisite sweetness, and the mother - herself an excellent musician - resolved to train it for a year or two and then take her up to London, and place her under the care of some eminent master, thus enabling her to escape the drudgery of a life like her own. She shuddered whenever she pictured her child doomed, as she had been ever since her early widowhood to be a teacher of music in an obscure country village, where the farmers, whose children she instructed, were incapable of appreciating the refinement and ability of their instructress.

But Eden, who was as yet in ignorance of her mother’s intentions, was beginning to chafe at the inactivity to which she was condemned. What was the use of her practising day after day, week after week, if she were not permitted to make use of what she was attaining? It was true that mamma praised her as the best of housekeepers, and that she had found plenty of occupation, until lately, in nursing and teaching Lotty, who had been a most delicate child. But now that her sister's health was established, and their one servant so thoroughly trained as to be a domestic treasure, Eden's daily avocations did not suffice for the active mind of an intelligent, animated girl, and she hailed with delight the idea of having he dull hours devoted to one slow pupil brightened by the presence of the lively, noisy twins. She was not at all afraid that she should not be able to manage them; and someone to share Lotty's lessons, to tease her a little over her old-fashioned notions, and, in fact, render her more child-like, was just the sort of impetus the little girl required.

On first hearing of the plan, Mrs Aubrey had demurred, and expressed her fears that Eden would find a couple of pupils, whose parents would not properly uphold her authority, very troublesome ones; but her daughter, relying on the naturally good dispositions which all the Stretby's appeared to possess, had begged permission to make the trial, and was now speculating as to what the answer her mother had promised to give in the evening would be.

This subject, and the best method of imparting instructions to such wild damsels, was still uppermost in Eden's thoughts when she was ushered, as before, into Mrs Merstham's studio. She had a tolerably gracious reception, and was encouraged to talk as she sat in the prescribed attitude, while Verna at her easel sketched into her picture the face whose expression had taken her fancy.

For some time the artist worked con amore, amused by Eden's naive but clever comments on the copies from the old masters that hung around.

"I must not forget to show you the portrait of myself that hangs in the green drawing room," she observed, presently. "I should like to hear whether you opinion of it coincides with my own."

"That is putting me to a sharp test, isn't it?" asked Eden. "I am no judge of painting. I merely commend what I see because I like it, perhaps for the sentiment more than the execution; while you have an educated eye and taste, and would be quick to discover defects or beauties which I am too ignorant to descry."

"Don't affect so much humility, Miss Aubrey, or I shall begin to think that you were not in earnest when you honoured that crude water colour drawing with such a long and apparently gratified inspection."

"I was quite in earnest in thinking it charming," Eden assured her. "I have just been reading 'Romeo and Juliette' for the first time, and that picture brought the play before me so vividly, that I could have gazed at it ever so much longer."

"then it was for the its associations you admired it, and not because you thought the Juliet a capital likeness." Verna observed, with an indulgent smile. "Am I not right?"

"I scarcely know," was the frank reply. "It is like you, and yet it is not like you."

"the attitude is bad," Mrs Merstham commented, with a glance at her statuesque form and well-shaped head in the mirror that hung so conveniently near.

"Is it? I did not notice that. The picture pleased me so well that I forgot to criticise the details; but I remember thinking, when I perceived that the principal female figure was intended for you, that the painter must have caught you in one of your happiest moods; the face wears so soft - so sweet an expression."

"I was happy then - in a fool's paradise. I believe," murmured Verna, falling into a reverie, and forgetting for a few moments that she was not alone. "But it would have been madness! and I acted wisely in marrying as I did. Even he must think so now."

Eden, who instinctively knew that these words were not for her ear, stooped to caress and talk to the little spaniel that lay at her feet until Mrs Merstham aroused herself from her day-dream and resumed work.

"I suppose, Miss Aubrey, I ought to be very modest and deprecate your praises of my portrait; but the honest truth is, that I like to be considered beautiful. When I was a child there was at one time a fear expressed that a painful disease, from which I was suffering, would disfigure me; and the anxiety that was manifested by everyone about me, lest it should be so, taught me to value my good looks."

Eden was sympathetic enough to induce the lady to proceed in the same strain.

"I was very young when that little sketch you admire so much was painted. it was just before my marriage, and I was barely nineteen when Mr Merstham proposed. do you think I was handsomer then than now?"

"Oh no!" was the prompt reply. "But -" and then Eden paused, in confusion. In what words could she explain to Mrs Merstham that what her features had gained in beauty of colour and decision of outline they had lost in the half-bashful, half-arch prettiness that must have formerly characterised them? The Juliette of the picture was an opening rosebud in the garden of girls; the lady who awaited her reply with such grave expectancy was a glowing queen rose, superb in her beauty, but not half as sweet as the earlier blossom.

"Pray don't stop at a but, Miss Aubrey!" cried Verna, impatiently, "or you will lose your character for candour. Do you think I have faded since my marriage? I know that Mr Merstham's death, and in the hideous cap I was obliged to wear, I looked quite old and haggard. I had endured enough to make me both. heaven knows the comparative happiness of these last few months has been dearly bought; but I fancied that I had succeeded in nursing myself back to something like the Verna of my girlhood. Tell me honestly what you were about to say."

"I believe I was thinking that many would consider you much more beautiful than you were when that picture was taken."

"But you do not. And why?"
Eden smiled
"Take your stand before that glass, Mrs Merstham, and let your features assume the tender, half-pleased, half-frightened expression they were in that picture, and then you will know what I mean."

Verna coloured, laughed, called her a ridiculous child, and then stood idly playing with her pencils and yielding to the spell of memories that made her sometimes frown, sometimes sigh. but at last, with a pettish stamp of her foot, as if angry at her weakness, she dipped her brush in her paint, and made a few more strokes.

"You are a keen observer, Miss Aubrey," she said, presently. "If I had anything to conceal, I should be half afraid of you, but I have no greater fault to confess to than a little more that worldly wisdom most women of my age think it is most romantic to decry. Suppose, as you have given me your opinion of the Juliet of my picture, you now tell me what you think of the Romeo in it? but perhaps," she added, catching her breath slightly and laughing a little affectedly - "perhaps you took no notice of what I have been inclined to think the better drawn and more interesting figure of the two?"

"Oh! yes I did," responded Eden, ingenuously. "I thought it more carefully painted than your own, and I have never seen a face I liked so well. I tried to draw it from memory, but could not succeed."

T this Mrs Merstham made no response, and was silent so long that Eden would have surmised that something in her speech had given offence, if the warmth of the room had not made her so sleepy that when Verna ceased to call upon her to talk, she had some difficulty in keeping her eyes open.
She started perceptibly when the lady threw down her brushes, and coldly informed her that the sitting was over.

"I don't think I need to trouble you to come again. At all events, I cannot ask you to do so, unless you consent to be remunerated for your services."

The distant tone Mrs Merstham had suddenly assumed displeased as much as it surprised Eden Aubrey, who contented herself with simply bowing ash she rose to resume the wraps she had thrown off on her arrival.

"Perhaps you would like to see what I have done?" said Verna, rather more civilly; and, thus invited, the young girl stepped towards the easel, but it was only to recoil and exclaim, impulsively:
"Is this meant for me?"
"I told you I should be obliged to idealise your features very much," Mrs Merstham replied. "Surely, my good child, you were not vain enough to suppose that I should coy them faithfully for a representation of the Madonna."

Eden bit her lips, and stammered something, she knew not what.

Whether purposely, or from want of skill, who shall say? but it was an unpleasant fact, that Mrs Merstham had produced on her canvas a face which could only be called a hideous caricature of the fair one of her model.

"It served me right," was Eden's mental summing up. "What business had I to feel flattered at being selected to sit for such a picture? But I cannot help hoping that in my worst humours I do not resemble this thing."

"Who is that person now crossing the lawn?" Verna exclaimed, as the young girl was about to bid her adieu.

"Mr Stretby, the new tenant of The Beeches," and Eden’s smiles returned, as the ludicrous scenes of the previous day recurred to her memory.

"You know him? then stay till he has gone. It is not pleasant for me to have to receive a stranger alone. I suppose I shall be obliged to advertise for a companion to reside with me."

Eden was half inclined to resent the peremptory manner in which she was directed to remain; but remembering that she need not expose herself to a repetition of it, she sat down again, and when Mr Stretby entered the room, shyly but gracefully, introduced him to Mrs Merstham.

He had called to ask information respecting the boundaries of their several grounds, lest he, in shooting, should trespass on those of his fair neighbour.

Mrs Merstham answered his questions, but it was with such freezing politeness that Eden thought her almost rude, and anyone but Mr Stretby would have been discouraged. he, however, evidently attributed her curt monosyllables to want of spirits, and pitied her heartily and openly.

"A widow, and so young! My dear Mrs Merstham, I can't express how sorry I am for you. Are you living here alone? Dear me! alone! What! no darling little children to enliven you, and give you an interest in life? 'Pon my word, I can't imagine how anyone can live in a house that has no merry children in it."

"I do not like children" he was told.

"I daresay not. Living such a solitary life has made you feel quite nervous and eccentric; unable to like anyone or anything." was the commiserating reply. "Whatever induced you to come to such a secluded place?"

"Perhaps it was to get out of the way of impertinent and over-officious people," said Verna, haughtily.

"Ah! I daresay your grief made you feel irritable," replied her imperturbably visitor; "and then the efforts of your friends to console you had the contrary effect. But you really ought not to be living here - alone too."

"I am very well satisfied with my house, sir," he was told in icy tones.

"Yes, that's where the mischief lies. you have moped till you don't care to exert yourself - till you can't shake off your melancholy; but cheer up - cheer up! I'll bring Mrs Stretby and the girls to see you. Why, my dear, you are but a girl yourself, and ought to be as full of fun and ripe for a frolic as my Flip - bless her. A widow, and so young! Dear - dear - dear!"

Mrs Merstham rose from the chair into which she had thrown herself, and, compressing her lips, swept across the room towards the bell, intending to ring for a servant, and then excuse herself in as few words as possibly, and leave her visitor, whose commiseration annoyed her. Mr Stretby, who fancied that she was going to ring for refreshments, started up to save her the trouble; but happening, as he passed the table, to glance at the open sketch-book, he was transfixed, and stood staring at it, and exclaiming:

"By Jove! What a likeness! It's him - it's his very self! Poor old Frank! That's just how he used to look before he grew a moustache. Bless the boy! How came his picture here?"

"Lunch, and bring with it some of that sherry. I want Mr Stretby's opinion on it," said Mrs Merstham to the servant who answered the summons.

and then, to the astonishment of Eden, who had been both pained and perplexed by the reception she gave the ex-miliataire's well-meant speeches, she returned to his side and accosted him with a winning smile.

"I hope we shall be very good neighbours, although, as I am only just putting off my mourning, you must not be surprised if I still court seclusion."

"Oh! but we must not let you seclude yourself any longer," cried Mr Stretby, patting her shoulder in fatherly fashion. "If you had friends about you I shouldn't take upon myself to interfere, but as it is - being your neighbours - we must do our best to rouse you. We mean to be very jolly here at Eastham. The girls love riding - they shall lend you a horse if you have not one - and dancing; no harm in a carpet dance, though you are a widow - and skating; going to have a rink of our own, you know, in the old banqueting house - excellent exercise for all young people. Yes, yes - you must come to us often. Can't let you be here alone any longer - impossible!"

"I think you were recognising one of the picture in my little collection of scraps," said Mrs Merstham, carelessly, as she turned over the leaves of the sketch book.

"Yes, yes, of course. I know the young fellow for whom it is intended, Frank Lyssendon. He was an ensign in the regiment to which I was attached; joined us while we were quartered at Canada, and made our house his home, as most of the lads used to do, by the bye. Left England, poor boy! because his sweetheart threw him over for a rich man - heartless jilt! Let me see; I did not notice the lady with whom he is sketched. Perhaps -"
But Verna's hand was on his arm.

"Pray come and taste this much be-praised wine, that poor Mr Merstham purchased just before his death. I am no judge of its merits myself. Miss Aubrey, you positively shall not run away till you have had a slice of chicken!"

she played the hostess so charmingly, that Mr Stretby forgot the picture, till she said, carelessly: "I used to know Lieutenant Lyssendon before he went abroad. Is he still in Canada?"

"Captain," Mr Stretby corrected. "He is a Captain Lyssendon now. In Canada? OH! no. I heard yesterday that the regiment is in England - quartered, in fact, at Aldenby, close by."

The glass Mrs Merstham insisted in filling for Eden dropped from her hand with a crash, and she sank back in her chair.

She quickly recovered herself, and turned the conversation to other subjects; but for hours after her visitors left her, there was a strange look upon the face, to which the colour had not returned. Was it triumph? or was it fear?

to be continued............

To Whom She Said Yes - Chapter Three

2009-11-02T02:20:00.000-08:00

Eden Aubrey had amused herself and her mother by describing all that she had heard and seen both at Mrs Merstham's and Mr Stretby's.
She had won her consent to sit to Verna for the picture that lady was painting; and on the morning after her adventures - as she merrily styled them - she was sitting patiently helping her younger sister with her lessons when the waggonette of the Stretby's dashed up to the door.

The charioteer was her companion of the preceding evening - that daughter of Mr Stretby who rejoiced in the comical appellation of Flip.

The young lady was quite alone, and after securing her reins to a post, in the methodical manner of a person accustomed to have the sole control of a couple of spirited horses, she came nimbly towards the porch, into which Eden - excited by the prospect of another break in the monotony of her quiet life - had hurried to meet her.

"What a pretty cottage!" was Miss Stretby's first exclamation. "Is this little girl your sister? And how are you? Not too busy, I hope to go with me?"

"Unfortunately, no - I am not busy at all," Eden replied. "But don't think my answer rude. I mean that mamma, who always spends this one day in the week at home, has been obliged to go out; and losing her society, just as we had planned to be so happy together, has made me cross and idle."

"and not able to settle to anything else," said Miss Stretby, with a sagacious nod. "I know the feeling. How lucky it is that I have arrived just as you've nothing better to do than help me! Put on your hat, will you? and come at once. Our horses are soon fidgetty if they're kept standing ' and Rifles was too busy to drive me, so I'm on honour to get home again without any disastors."

"But where do you want me to go?" asked Eden, glancing doubtfully at the pawing, snorting animals.
"To fifty places; but I can explain all that as we go along. No, don't look doubtful. I'll not upset you, and your sister will spare you, I'm sure, if I promise to come some other day, and give her a long country drive."

Lotty who was rather glad than sorry to escape the long chapter of history Eden was inflicting on her, nodded assent, and ran off at once to her dolls, of which, being a shy, peculiar child, she was fonder than of the very few playmates their somewhat isolated dwelling enabled her to have.

And Eden, always willing to oblige, hurriedly donned her outdoor dress, and in a very few minutes pronounced herslef ready to accompany Miss Stretby.

"Now may I know where you are taking me," She said, when, after a little plunging about, the restless steeds permitted themselves to be guided in the direction of the village street.

"That depends on you," was the reply. "I came down here to order in stores for the garrison, and could get scarcely a thing I asked for. In some articles I had exhausted the supply last evening, and others are only to be had when ordered. The butcher, who is also the grocer, only kills beef once a week. Fish must be procured from Alderby, and for eggs, fowls, cream, butter, and cheese, I am directed to the farm houses round about. Now, where is 'round about?' When I inquired which way I had better take, Mrs Butcher - Mr Butcher was out pig-buying - got into a fog. I might go to Smith's farm if I liked, but she wasn't sure whether they'd any butter to spare. Or I might try Brown's, but their fowls was always terrible poor; and as for them Jones's - but I didn't stop to hear any more, for it had just popped into my head that you would be more likely to help me than this slow, stupid woman. Here we are at the cross roads. Which one am I to take?"

Her brisk proceedings almost took Eden's breath away; but after very brief consideration, she had decided where the Stretby's were most likely to get what they needed. Eden Aubrey's bonny face was well known at most of the farmhouses around Eastham, for she was a good walker, and the winning manner inherited from her mother - always so gay and so gracious - made the old women and children her friends wherever she appeared.

With a little aid and advice from her, Miss Stretby transacted her business satisfactorily, and turned her horses' heads homeward, with the carriage filled with provisions, and a regular supply promised to the household at The Beeches by the farmers' wives, to whom her companion had introduced her. She had proved herself such an adept at bargaining, that Eden laughingly expressed a little surprise.

"Lor now, does it strike you as odd?" said Flip, laughing too. 'You see I like buying, but I know no reason why I should pay away more of pa's money for an article than it is worth. We never run bills; it's always, 'how much is it,' and 'here's the cash.' But I once heard somebody say that we are a queer family; and perhaps it's true."

"How did you pass the night? Has your furniture arrived?" were the questions Eden now put to her.

"The night? Oh! We got on very well," was the careless reply. "The old woman came home soon after you had left us, and when she had got over the fright papa's scolding gave her, she was quite useful - found us some delicious home-baked bread, and lent us a feather bed for ma; and we made her sit up with us and tell us all the old ghost stories she could remember, only pa spoiled the effect of the most exciting by snoring his loudest in the middle of it."

"And the furniture?" queried Eden again. "I felt quite uncomfortable when the wind howled towards morning, to think of you all in that empty, desolate house."

Flip opened her eyes to their fullest extent.
"Lor now, did you? Why we had a jolly fire, and were comfortable enough. Lin went into fits of laughter when she woke at daybreak and looked round her. She said she never saw human creatures sleeping in such ridiculous attitudes before. But we jumped up none the worse for it, except one of the twins, I put her to bed on a wide shelf, and she fell off and bruised her nose."

"But your furniture?" said Eden, for the third time.

"Oh, that came in sight just as I started, so we shall be able to give you your luncheon on a table, instead of spreading the cloth on the floor, as we did at breakfast-time. No, indeed, you are not going to leave me yet. Ma wants to ask you something, and made me promise not to go back without you."

So Eden had to keep her seat till they arrived at The Beeches, where they found confusion worse confounded. Huge vans were drawn up in front of the house, and workmen, under the direction of Rifles, were toiling up the staircases with heavy chests of drawers, etc. A buxom cook - who, with half a dozen more servants had just arrived in the roomy carriage of their employers - came out to greet Miss Flip and carry off the contents of the wagonnette. The maids ran to and fro trying to reduce to something like order the chaos around them; and to make the turmoil greater, the younger Stretbys were dancing a sort of war dance around a fat placid baby, the last born, the only boy, who sat in the arms of his nurse chuckling and crowing at his worshippers, to their intense delight.

Eden looked round for Mr Stretby; but, cigar in his mouth, he had sallied forth to have a chat with a man who had offered himself as gardener. Mrs Stretby was reclining on a pile of cushions in one of the bay-windows of the drawing-room, doing nothing but play with the rings on her plump fingers and smile at her daughters whenever one of them rushed in to announce some new discovery, pat up her cushions, and fly off again. There were noises around her that would have distracted some matrons - hammering and knocking, lumbering of heavy feet overhead, a crash of glass down below, and presently a shrill scream so startling to Eden that she offered to go and ascertain what had occasioned it.

"Thank you my love, but I don't think I need trouble you," said Mrs Stretby , calmly. "It isn't baby's voice; I rather think that it is only Priss, our housemaid; she is nervous, poor thing, and is always fancying she sees a mouse or feels a spider. It was annoying till were were used to it, but she's an excellent servant, and a little brandy generally brings her to."

Eden then condoled with her on the confusion that reigned around, but was answered in the same placid strain.
"Ah! yes; I suppose the house does look untidy, but we shall get settled by-and-by, I dare say. Pray sit down. Ah! I forgot that there are no chairs unpacked; do have one of my cushions, unless you prefer the window-seat."

"Thanks, but is there nothing I can do for you? to assist, I mean, in arranging either of the rooms. I shall be so pleased to be of some use."

"You are very good natured, my love," said Mrs Stretby, leaning back to look up into the pretty, animated face of her visitor; "but there really isn't the least occasion for you to tire yourself.
The servants are here, and they will do all that is required. Not today, perhaps we must give them time, poor things! but in the course of a week or two everything will be in its place, I dare say. Have you seen baby? He's somewhere about, I've no doubt. I should like you to see our only boy."

Yes, Eden had caught more than one glimpse of the heir of the Stretby's; sometimes borne on the shoulders of one of his elder sisters, as they wandered about the house watching the workmen, sometimes tucked up under the arm of the more energetic Flip, as she bustled away to point out the place for some piece of furniture; then, for a little while, the object of dispute with the twins who struggled for him till any other infant would have squalled lustily; but beyond screwing up his features and converting his mouth into a round O, Master Stretby bore the pulling and lugging to which he was subjected, as if it were second nature. The last time an opening door enbabled Eden to glance into the hall; he was there, and had been squeezed into a basket and propped up with a hassock, that the young lady who, by dint of greater strength, had gained possession of him might the more conveniently feed him with sugar-plums and bites from a raw apple.

"Venetia darling, I should like Miss Aubrey to see Roderick," said Mrs Stretby, when her eldest daughter came in sight, laden with music books. Down went the pile of large volumes, and away went Venetia in serach of the infant. Eden saw her run across the court-yard with him, possibly in the direction of the pump, because he was in too sticky a condition to be presentable, for when she bore him into the room his rosy little face was still wet, shining with his recent ablutions.

While Eden romped with and tickled the plump baby, it was quite amusing to see the placid complacency with which Mrs Stretby looked on. She roused herself once to proffer a request that Roderick might be allowed to come to his mamma to be nursed, and the child was seated on her knee; but after apostrophising him once or twice with a gentle, "Oh! baby, baby!" she looked helplessly round; and Flip seized her little brother, proclaiming that he was too much for ma. Another contest for possession of him then arose, in which the twin, who had been worsted in the first battle, came off victorious, and danced off with her prize hanging over her shoulders, and only saved from falling by her grasp of his mottled legs.

Feeling that she could not be of any further service, Eden would have departed, but Mrs Stretby entreated her to stay a little longer.
"Pray don't go yet, my love, for there is something I particularly wish to say to you. Venetia, what is it I wanted to ask Miss Aubrey?"
Venetia took hold of the extreme tip of her roman nose, and meditated.
"Was it oatmeal, ma?"
"I think not, love, though somebody did saysomething to me about it being excellent food for children; and I believe I made up my mind to ask some one or other if it were true, but still I don't think it was that."

"Goats?" now queried Venetia.
"For baby's chaise? Ah! Perhaps Miss Aubrey can tell us if they are to be had here; but still, that isn't it."

"Patterns, then, of her dress and jacket? Pa said she dressed better than any girl he had seen for some time - so stylish, and yet so quiet and ladylike."

The blushing Eden hastened to disclaim any credit for this.
"Mamma cuts out and plans my dressed. It is she who has both taste and ingenuity - not me."
"no, it was not patterns," said Mrs Stretby beginning to look hopelessly perplexed, 'though I believe I said I'd ask Miss Aubrey who made for her. Ah! now, I remember: it was the twins and their education. They must be taught something. I'm quite anxious about them; I am indeed!"

"You are in want of a governess?" asked Eden.
"Oh! no; not a resident one. We have tried that plan, but somehow it doesn't answer. Mr Stretby doesn't like to see the poor dears cry over their lessons, or fret at being confined too strictly to the school-room."

"Then you would prefer a daily governess?"
Mrs Stretby meditated.
"I don't know what to say about that. I am afraid it would worry me to have a stranger coming to the house at regular hours; because, you see, she would expect to find her pupils always ready for her, and they are such haram-scarum little creatures, one never knows where to find them."
"Then I don't think I quite underrstand what it is you wish," said Eden, hesitatingly, as she glanced from Mrs Stretby to her daughters.
"It is a difficult question, isn't it?" Murmured the matron. "But I am so anxious that their education shouldn't be neglected, that Flip - where's Flip? - seeing how it harassed me, came to my aid with a proposal. Now, what was it she proposed? Where is she?"

"Here am I, ma," said that young lady wheeling in a small table on which to deposit the luncheon-tray a servant was bringing. "I know what we planned last night. The old woman told us that Miss aubrey is highly accomplished, and regularly teaches her little sister, and I said how nice it would be if she would let H and P share the child's lessons."

"H and P?" repeated Eden, half-laughing, half-bewildered.

"Yes, the twins; don't you know that they are called that in short for Hyacinthe and Persis, just as I am Flip for Philippina, and Lin was christend Ethelinda? Ma always chooses from some romance she has read, but pa hates what he calls crack-jaw names, and curtails them as much as he can. But what do you say to my scheme, Miss Aubrey? Will you agree to it? Pray do; it will be such a relief to poor dear ma! her head quite ached with thinking about it."

Before Eden could make any reply, Mr Stretby came bustling into the room.
"Girls, I've had a visitor, and he's given me an idea," he exclaimed, as soon as he had shaken hands with Eden. "I had walked down to the gates with the new gardener, when who should come riding by but Halliss. You remember him? he was once a lieutenant in ours, and now he's a Major in the 150th - one of the regiments stationed at Aldenby."

"Why didn't you bring him in to luch, pa?" asked Miss Venetia.
"Because, my dear Sneshy, I couldn't be sure that the state of the larder admitted it. Besides, he had an engagement; but I have promised to dine at the mess tomorrow, and then I can tell him and his friends to come over whenever they feel inclined."

This free and easy style of giving invitations was evidently the usual thing, for no remark was made upon it, Flip only inquiring what had been Major Halliss's clever idea.

"Ah! I was forgetting it! He walked with me as far as a building that stands in the grounds - a banqueting hall, or something of the kind, - and what do you think he said?"
"Go on pa!" cried Lin imperiously. "I hate the bother of guessing."

"He said: 'Why don't you lay down some asphalte here, and convert it into a rink? Our fellows are moped to death at Aldenby, which is the dullest, dirtiest hole imaginable; and they'd regard you as their best friend if you'd do this, and let them come and rink with the young ladies.' and by Jove, girls! I don't think I could do better than act upon the suggestion, for an English winter is not like a Canadian one, and you'll terribly miss your skating, and sleighing, and tobogginning. Come and have a look at the place."

Away they ran at his heels, carrying the baby with them, and Eden, who had declined to accompany them, bade Mrs Stretby farewell, having first promised to consult her mother respecting the pupils so suddenly offered to her.

to be continued.........

To whom she said "Yes" - Chapter Two

2009-10-29T04:37:00.000-07:00

The Beeches

"Now, which way am I going home?" said Eden to herself, making a pause as the iron gates of Mrs Merstham's grounds clanged behind her. "Along the high road? No, it is too formal, too dull; and the last time I went that way, I forgot myself , and whistled a tune, and the Reverend Jonas was just coming out of a cottage and heard me. I didn't mean to shock him, I'm sure; and though mamma laughed a little when I mimicked his look of horror, she begged me not to offend against the proprieties in that way again. The fields, then? No, the heavy rains have flooded them, and it's too cold to doff boots and hose and wade through the water, as I should dearly like to do. Why shouldn't I take a short cut across the plantations of The Beeches? Everyone does it, though it's trespassing; but while the house is empty and the place a perfect wilderness, what harm can it be?"

So away went Eden. There was a gate to climb, and a broken paie to squeeze through; but she was a country girl, and accustomed to surmount such obstacles. Onward she went, dancing though the fallen leaves, sometimes chasing a rabbit, sometimes stopping to listen to the song of a robin, till she drew near the long-deserted house, when, suddenly remembering that her mother had expressed a wish to have a receipt of Granny Myers, the care-taker, had promised her, Eden thought it would be an excellent opportunity for calling and procuring it.

But, as soon as she emerged from the shrubbery, she stopped, and began to retreat, for a stranger, a male one, was walking to and fro in front of the portico, brandishing a large white umbrella, as if threatening some imaginary foe.

His quick, roving glances lighted on the young girl as she began to move away, and he came striding across the lawn at a tremendouus rate, in order to intercept her.

"Do you know who I am?" he demanded, as soon as he was near enough to make himself heard.

"I am very sorry that I have trespassed!" faltered Eden, alarmed at his gruff voice and belligerent manner. "I did not know that anyone was here but Mrs Myers, who knows me very well, and --"

"But, my good young lady, Mrs Myers is not here; and that's why I'm in a dilemma." he retorted, wiping his forehead and making a dive with the umbrella at the air, as if he were thrusting a lance thorugh a Cossack. "Let me introduce myself, for I can see that you do not know me. I am Robert Stretby, ex-major in Her Majesty's 160th regiment; and I have rented this house because Mrs Stretby thinks the children's education can be carried out better in the country. She'll be here directly - Mrs Stretby, I mean. I've walked on to stretch my legs; and the furniture has not arrived, and the con - beg pardon! - the old woman is out, the shutters are shut, the doors are all locked, and I cannot get in. Pretty state of things, in a strange country, isn't it? How will Mrs Stretby look when she gets here, I should like to know? And I told her she'd find everything in applie-pie order. Only think! Why, she'll colapse, positively!"

As Mr Stretby's imagination pictured his wife's discomfiture, he broke into a little chuckle, which soon beame a roar of laughter, so hearty, so gleeful, that Eden could scarcely help joining in it.

"Well, it is ludicrous, isn't it?" he said, when he had exhausted himself. "Yet, it's aggravating, too; and I'm horribly annoyed, although I've the consolation of being able to laugh at my own misfortunes; but, by Jove! it's going to rain, and there isn't an hotel in Eastham; for I inquired when I was here the other day, and that old woman's not to be found. Have you any idea where she is?"

"Gone into the village, perhaps, for a gossip," said Eden, who knew Mrs Myers had plenty of acquaintances in Eastham. "But there is a window at the back of the house through which I think you might obtain an entrance. Shall I show you which one I mean?"

"If you please; for Mrs Stretby will be here in a minute; and if she finds neither fire nor shelter, food nor furniture, she'll think she has some reason to scold me; though you are witness, my young lady, that the fault is not mine, but that con - beg pardon, I'm sure - tiresome old woman's."

While he talked he was hurrying Eden towards the house; his long legs taking three steps to one of hers.

Mr Stretby was very tall, very thin, and gray, with a huge white moustache ornamenting a face that had been burned a deep brick red with exposure, and overhanging brows, also white, beneath which his eyes gleamed or twinkled, according to his mood, as brightly as in his youth.

Altogether he was a very fierce-looking vieux militaire; and yet he contrived to convey the impression that he was the best-tempered of men.

Eden laughed outright, when, having clambered to the window and pulled up the sash, he suddenly shot through it head-foremost. But he peeped out, to assure her that there was nothing broken, and ask which way he must turn to find the outer door.

She had scarcely finished directing him, when an open carriage was heard rolling up the drive, and she saw three or four feminine faces peeping from it at her, as she stood undecided whether to depart or to stay and ascertain whether she would be of any further service to these newcomers.

The carriage was a roomy waggonette, and a young lady tall, thin, and with prominent features, like Mr Stretby, had taken the reins from the servant, who was an old soldier and was driving.

The seats of the wagonette were occupied by more young ladies, all bearing the same likeness to their father - all wearing the same happy expression of features; and with them there was a stout, rosy, placid matron, who, although she was evidently in excellent health, was propped up with cushions and half smothered in wraps.

"Woa!" cried the driver to her steeds, as she reined up in front of the house. "No shutters opened, no fires alight, and no pa to be seen anywhere. Why ma, can this be our new bungalow?"

"Of course it's not, my dear Venetia," said Mrs Stretby mildly. "I told you I was almost sure we had taken the worng turning. And where poor dear papa can be, goodness only knows."

"Lost himself, most likely." said Miss Venetia Stretby. "It's a chance if we see him again till tomorrow morning. I vote that we drive back to the place where he left us, and wait there till he turns up again. So here goes!"

"Wouldn't it be as well to make some inquiries first?" cried another of the daughters; and, jumping nimbly from the carriage, she ran up to Eden, who, confused by the non-appearance of Mr Stretby, and the loud voices and rapid utterance of the ladies of his household, had not been able to offer any explanation.

"Yes, this is The Beeches," she now contrived to say; "but the person who has the key of the house is absent, and Mr Stretby has been obliged to obtain admission by climbing in at one of the windows."

"Then papa is here!" and a rush was made from the carriage to inspect the narrow casement through which he had squeezed himself. Mrs Streby rose to follow her daughters, and, the man being busy with his horses, she gave such an entreating look at Eden, that, fancying she must be lame, the latter courteously went to her assistance.

Some years since, Mrs Stretby had suffered a long but not dangerous illness, through which she had been most affectionately nursed by her husband and daughters; and, although she had quite regained her health, they continued to cosset and watch over her with the same jealous care, till she had grown so accustomed to it, that she now received these attentions as a matter of course. One of her daughters dutifully ran back as soon as she preceived that Mrs Stretby was alighting; and, leaning on her arm and Eden's, she joined the group beneath the window.

"If papa's here, what's become of him?" inquired some one.

"Gracious me! something's happened to him," cried Mrs Stretby, plaintively. "Something always is happening to him."

"Now, ma, this won't do!" cried Miss Venetia, snatching off her hat to fan her mother. "You must keep up! Pat her back, Flip, there's a dear! Pa will never forgive us if we let you worry yourself into another illness. Lin, run to the trap, and find the brandy flask; and send the twins to look for the smelling salts. Do you hear, ma? You've got to sit down on this green bank, and do your best to keep up."

"But where is he?" asked Mrs Stretby, clinging to Eden, and looking to her for an answer.

"I'm here, my dears!" shouted her spouse, through the keyhole of a door, and tugging desperately at the rusty bolts.

"I'm all right, and very much obliged to that young lady - just ask her name, will you? - for directing me, though I believe I must have misunderstood what she said, for I fell into a cellar, and con - take the bolt, what a plague it is to me!"

The next minute he appeared in their midst, very hot and grimy; and Eden , feeling herself de trop, would have glided away and walked into Eastham, to find and despatch Granny Myers to their assistance, if Mrs Stretby, in her excitement, had not held her so fast that she could not release herself.

In a matter of fact manner, that was highly amusing to a looker-on, Mr Stretby's daughters instantly took possession of him, and while one on either side brushed him down, another removed the cobwebs from his hat, a fourth, with her handkerchief, wiped a streak of dirt off his forehead, and with a pocket-comb, frizzed up his short, stubbly gray hair, while the twins - girls about twelve years of age - who had scampered off for the flask, on finding that their maternal parent no longer requied its contents, proffered it to their paternal one, who evidently appreciated the attention.

"Why aren't the shutter open, Robert?" asked Mrs Stretby, when this little performance was over.

"La, yes," said Miss Venetia, replacing her hat on her head, and gazing about her; "and where is the funiture?"

"Where indeed!" echoed her father, with a groan, and a vicious pull at his long moustache "I never was so near falling into a passion as when I reached this place and found an empty house, and not a creature to explain the reason of it! Have you asked this young lady her name, and thanked her for her courtesy? If it hadn't been for a bright thought of hers, we shouldn't have gained entrance at all."

"But where is the furniture?" Mrs Stretby mildly inquired again.

"That's the question my dear, I keep asking, and can't find any answer. I went to the upholsterer myself - myself, remember - paid for all the artciles you had selected, gave him the address legibley written, and ordered him to pack and despatch them here."

"But did you write and tell him that we were coming to The Beeches a day earlier than we originally proposed?" And then Mrs Stretby gently shook her finger at her husband, "No, Robert, you need not hesitate; I know you did not."

"But, indeed I did, my dear. Ask the children; they saw me upset the ink-bottle in the act."

"But did you post your note? You know how forgetful you are! Now I'm sure by your looks that you didn't! Just examine your papa's pockets, girls! Ah! There it is," she added, triumphantly, as one of them held up a letter.

"What a con- beg pardon - old idiot I am!" cried Mr Stretby, ruefully. "Now wht's to be done? Can anyone tell me what's to be done?"

"My name is Aubrey, and I live in Eastham," said Eden. "Can I be of any use to you?"

"Thank you, love," Mrs Stretby smilingly responded, as she settled herslef comfortably on the green bank, to which her daughters had led her. "You are very kind; but it's not of much consequence. We shall manage somehow."

"Manage somehow!" Eden repeated, looking so perplexed that one of the girls began to titter, her sisters followed suit, and Mr Stretby burst into one of his heartiest roars of laughter.

"'Pon my word, we've had many adventures; but this is one of the queerest! children, bring your mamma in doors out of the rain."

"But what will you do?" Eden inquired, as the whole party turned into the empty hall, carrying her with them.

"Bivouac in the snuggest corner, eh, papa?" cried Venetia. "Ma can have the cushions out of the carriage, and all the cloaks and shawls, and the rest of us will build a great fire - there must be lots of wood about - and we'll sit round it and tell stories till morning!"

"Oh! Jolly!" exclaimed the twins.
"And look here," cried the girl next in age to Venetia. Before Rifles takes the horses out I shall drive into the village; Miss Aubrey says she lives there, so she will go too, and show me th w ay to the butcher's and the baker's, and if we can pounce upon the old woman, we'll arrest her for neglect of duty, and I'll bring home my prisoner along with the provisions."

"Flip, my child, that's a capital idea," said her father, approvingly. "So be off with you, or it will be dark before you start. Don't forget some tobacco for Rifles, and a tea-kettle. We can't make a comfortable night of it without a tea-kettle."

"All right, sir," said Flip, giving her father a military salute. "I'm off at once; but where's the family purse?"

For this article there was a long search. Mamma remembered to have had it to give some halfpence to a beggar, and the twins had borrowed it when solicited to buy some apples by a travelling hawker; but it seemed to be generally understood that all missing articles found their way into one or other of the pockets in Mr Stretby's shooting-jacket; and from the deepest of them it was at last extracted.

Then, a little to her astonishment, as well as amusement, Eden was escorted to the carriage by paterfamilias, hat in hand; Flip scrambled in after her, and, with the latter young lady shouting back an injuction to her sisters to take care of ma, they were driven off to Eastham.

During the rapid journey, Flip was engaged in telling off on her fingers the items she proposed carrying back to the empty house, appealing every now and then to the taciturn servant when she found herself in dager of forgetting some necessary.

"No, thank you; there's not the slightest occasion for it," she tranquilly replied, when Eden good-naturedly proposed procuring from her mother the loan of such comforts as bedding, etc. "Ma don't mind, nor we don't, and pa's an old soldier, and used to roughing it. There's two or three vans of furniture on the road, and they will turn up some time or other. We were worse off than this once in Canada; for the tents were on one side of a wide river, and we on the other; the ferryboat had come to grief, and there wasn't a house within ten miles of us. Papa owns that he should have been a bad general; for he always contrives to get in advance of his baggage and commissariat; but then it's his only fault, so it's no use making a trouble of it."

And in the same comfortable frame of mind, Miss Stretby invaded the general-shop, secured a supply of edibles, and drove off again with her lap full of cups and saucers, nodding and smiling at the amused Eden, who stood by the roadside, waving farewells to her new acquaintance, until the waggonette disappeared in the darkness of the fast-falling night.

To be continued....

To Whom she said "Yes" - Chapter One

2009-10-27T01:33:00.000-07:00

by the author of "Wilful Winnie." "The Bride's Jewels" "Holly and Ivy" "Waiting for the May," "Not to be won," "Positively ugly," etc

(taken from The Young Woman, 1877) A story in 30 chapters.

Chapter One

Verna Merstham

One of the prettiest rooms in Mrs. Merstham's house was called her studio: although it cannot be said to have borne much resemblance to the apartment in which painters - with true masculine untidiness - contrive to surround themselves with litter while they work.

It is true that there were a few casts from the antique in Mrs. Merstham's studio, but then they stood on polished marble pedestals; there were half-finished pictures against the walls, but they were placed on neat stands, made for that purpose and there were easels, and colour-boxes, and pallets, and pencils, but all of the daintiest make and finish, and all arranged with an eye to effect as well as to order.

Moreover, when Mrs Merstham - who was a handsome young widow, with the eye of a Juno, and the proud gait of a Diana - took it into her head to play at painting, she did not disguise herself with a shapeless blouse; her black robes were exchanged for a crimson tunic, bordered with gold, that was confined at her waist with a zone, from which it swept in voluminous folds to her feet; and her raven hair, of which she was justly proud, was tied back with a crimson fillet, or looped up with diamond-headed arrows that glittered and flashed in its dark waves most picturesquely.

Verna Merstham was standing before her easel one morning when visitors were announced, and though her deeply-curved lip curled scornfully when she glanced at the card her pretty saucy page presented, she gave orders that they were to be admitted. Any society was better than no society. Though she prided herself on her strength of mind, she was in a morbid mood just then - tired of herself, of her surroundings, fair and costly though they were - of the solitary state in which she had passed the year of her widowhood; and was for the first time half inclined to ask herself if the wealth, for which she had wedded an aged, ill-tempered millionaire, had proved worth the price she had paid for it.

But she had composed her features into the haughty calm that generally characterised them when she laid down her brush and maul-stick to greet her guests; two withered, fluttering elderly ladies, like autumn leaves, all brown and yellow in complexion, as well as dress. The Misses Tibbetts were maiden sisters, whose small income, by great care, enabled them to keep up appearances in one of the prettiest but also smallest of the villas in the High Street of Eastham.

"So glad to see you looking so lovely my dear Mrs Merstham," began Miss Olivia Tibbetts, breathlessly. She always was breathless, especially when she had news to tell. "So kind of you to break through your rule, and admit us."

"Flattered!" added Cornelia Tibbetts, who was not given to wasting her words, and therefore contented herself with acting as a sort of appendix to her sister.

"There is no rule to break," said Verna, languidly. "I gave everyone to understand when I came hre4r three months since, that I should not receive any visitors till the year of my mourning had expired. It ended yesterday, and as I have no desire to be considered eccentric, I shall do as other people do, and be civil to my neighbours."

"How brave of you, after such a bereavement!" ejaculated Miss Olivia, admiringly.

"It shows great - great -"

"Fortitude" said her sister.

"Ah! Yes, fortitude. Dear Cornelia has such a head! Such a memory! Then you will receive callers, my dear Mrs Merstham, and pay visits, and all that?"

Verna Merstham smiled at the little lady's eagerness.

"I suppose so; quietly, of course. I came to this house - which my husband had bought and fitted up just before his death to live in the retirement I considered decorous, under the circumstances - and I shall continue to do so till - well, till the London season commences. But you talk of callers, Miss Tibbetts; who is there living in Eastham with whom I could exchange visits?"

The haughty tone in which she spoke disconcerted Miss Olivia. Eastham, though nestled in one of the loveliest of dells, with shady lanes around it that were beautiful in every season, was a pastoral village, with only two good houses in its vicinity: Mrs Merstham's, and a room, old-fashioned mansion, known as The Beeches, and so terribly out of repair, that no one cared to rent it. There were also half-a-dozen neat little eight-roomed semi-detached dwellings at the best end of the village street, known as The Villas: but with these exceptions Eastham was in the hands of burly farmers and hop-growers.

Miss Olivia meditated, coughed, and glanced at her sister, who breathed the word "Doctor!"

"Ah! yes; an excellent man, Mr Snubbs; but you know him already, don't you, Mrs Merstham?"

Again the full lips parted into a scornful smile.

"Yes; and his wife; but I cannot say that I feel disposed to be intimate with either."

"Well certainly they are not quite the sort of people with whom you would care to associate; and Vineton, the lawyer, is the crustiest old bachelor that ever lived, and the rector being gouty and his wife an invalid, and the Aldenby people – Ah! I had forgotten them; but I suppose you have no military acquaintances, Mrs Merstham?”

A dark red flush slowly mounted to Verna Merstham’s brows, and she glanced sharply at the speaker; but Miss Tibbetts looked so unconscious of any intention of giving offence, that, dropping her eyes again, and resuming her former listless attitude, she answered, slowly:

“Military acquaintances! My dear Miss Tibbetts, how very odd a question!”

“Oh I beg pardon, really! I know that many people have a prejudice against the army. We have ourselves, haven’t we, Cornelia? Ever since a most impertinent –“

“Handsome!” interposed Cornelia.

“Well, he certainly wasn’t bad-looking,” her sister admitted. “A handsome, but most impertinent young officer whom we met during out daily constitutional, not only insisted on helping us over a stile, but – you’ll not mention this, my dear Mrs Merstham? – Kissed his hand to us. But still there are, I daresay, men of good character in the British army, although I have heard that the swearing, and the gambling, and the drinking ---“

“Have mercy, Miss Tibbetts!” said Verna, quietly. “My father was a soldier.”

Miss Tibbetts apologised till she was hoarse; and then, timidly, as if afraid of making more mistakes, observed that she had been about to remark that she didn’t suppose Mrs Merstham had any acquaintances amongst the military men at Aldenby.

Now, Aldenby was a busy and extensive town, some three miles away, with large barracks on the outskirts, in which two or three regiments were generally quartered; and occasionally a party of gay militaries and ladies on horseback disturbed the quiet of Eastham by riding along the principal street; but apparently the widow had no predilection for the scarlet or blue of our army; for in her coldest tones, she made answer that she might have met some of them in society but she did not even know what regiments were quartered at Aldenby, and should not care to inquire.

“But you’ll not find it dull here,” cried Miss Olivia briskly. “Oh! dear No! although there certainly is a dearth of society; for we manage to suffice for ourselves, don’t we, Cornelia? There are reading rooms; they are only meant for the gentlemen , you know; but the librarian is a most obliging man, and never makes any remark if we ladies slip in for an hour in the afternoon just to have a peep at Punch and the papers; and there are the Dorcas meetings in the winter, and the annual concert, and the children’s school treat in the summer; and I’m sure you’ll give us a pic-nic in your own beautiful grounds, Mrs Merstham; and good – gracious! Cornelia, how could you let me forget it? – The Beeches is let!”

Verna, who had been stifling a yawn, glanced towards a window, though which there was a distant view of a clump of the above-mentioned trees, and some curiously twisted chimneys peering betwixt them as she murmured an interrogatory:

“Yes?”

“It’s quite true; for I had it from the auctioneer himself. Let to a Canadian gentleman with a large family; he intends to come into occupation immediately; was down here a day or two since, to decide upon it; and his name’s Stretby. I was so glad to hear it!”

“And I am sorry,” said Verna coldly. “I liked rambling and sketching in the grounds; for they were wilder and more picturesque than my own; and I detest people with large families; they are worse nuisances than – “ Old maids, she was about to add; but checked herself, and made a diversion by pointing to a figure tripping across her own lawn and asking;

“Who is this?”

Miss Olivia glanced at the figure, and stood on tip-toe, in her astonishment.

“Dear, dear me! It’s Eden Aubrey? Do you know her, Mrs Merstham?”

“I think I’ve seen her at church. Who is she?” asked that lady, as she gave orders for the stranger to be admitted.

“Only the daughter of Mrs Aubrey, the poor thing who gives music-lessons.”

“French woman,” asserted Cornelia

“Yes; I am afraid she is,” sighed Miss Olivia; “and although it may be uncharitable, I never have had much opinion of the French; not but what Mrs Aubrey has behaved very well ever since she came to Eastham. Her husband was a young surgeon, who bought Dr MacMurdo’s practice; but he died when the children were babies; and there was so little for the widow, that she had to take to teaching. But what brings Eden here? – uninvited too! – unless it’s with one of her mother’s circulars.”

“Can Mrs Aubrey expect to find a pupil in me?” asked Verna, who had developed into a brilliant player, under the tuition of some of the most eminent masters. “How absurd!”

“Of course it is – quite absurd!” echoed Miss Tibbetts. “If she had consulted me, I should have told her so; but Mrs Aubrey is very odd, very reserved; never takes anyone into her confidence, and has a – a sort of way when you offer suggestions that is really quite repelling.”

“Faults of her nation,” said Cornelia.

“Well perhaps it is” replied her sister, adding benevolently; “And if so, we mustn’t visit it on the poor children. Oh! here’s Eden – ridiculous name to give her, isn’t it?” You may step forward, my dear. Mrs Merstham will grant you an interview.”

Eden Aubrey, who had just been ushered into the room, opened her soft, gray eyes widely, with a comical air of astonishment at hearing herself thus addressed; then, perceiving the speaker, who was half hidden by Mrs Merstham’s easel, she gave her an amused smile and nod of recognition.

She was, young, impulsive and high spirited, and did not understand being patronised by the fussy officious spinster, who sometimes contrived to arouse even her forebearing mother’s indignation by her ill-timed comments on Mrs Aubrey’s arrangements; and, after thus acknowledging Miss Tibbett’s presence, and replying to Cornelia’s “Good morning,” she took no further notice of the spinsters but moved easily and gracefully towards Mrs Merstham.

Eden Aubrey was not more than seventeen, and was an innocent, inexperienced, lovable girl, with a slight, willowy figure that, in the course of a few years, would be perfect; and a face so riante, so expressive, that Mrs Merstham marvelled that she had not noticed it before: in repose it was so sweet and childlike, and yet, as soon as she spoke or smiled, so arch, so intelligent in its prettiness.

The wild rose tints on her cheeks deepened as she perceived how critically Mrs Merstham was surveying her; but she was not troubled with awkward shyness. Why should she be? she would have asked. Mamma had taught her how to deport herself, and to be either rude or stupid would be to disgrace that dear teacher.

Without the slightest embarrassment, and without appearing to perceive that she had not been invited to seat herself, she laid on the little inlaid table, at Verna’s elbow, a roll of music, and told her errand.

Mr Green the stationer, had been in despair (Eden had picked up some of the foreign phrases as well as the piquante intonation of her Parisian mother) at his inability to procure the songs Mrs Merstham had ordered; and, learning that Mamma had them, he had asked her to part with them. As the gift of a friend, they were valuable to Mrs Aubrey; but she would be much gratified if Mrs Merstham would make use of them or any others in her collection, for as long as she wished.

The offer, so politely made, was accepted, and Eden Aubrey would have withdrawn if Verna had not suddenly aroused herself from her languid indifference, and requested her to stay.

“If you have walked from the further end of the village, I am sure you will be glad of some luncheon. I will ring for the tray, and ask Miss Tibbetts to entertain you for me while I change my dress.”

“A charming room this!” said Miss Olivia seeing that the young girl’s eyes were wandering around it after Mrs Merstham had left them.

“I don’t suppose you have ever seen anything to equal it.”

“No – never” answered Eden, frankly. “I shall ask Mrs Merstham to let me have a closer view of the pictures in the hall or ante chamber thought which they led me; for I had a glimpse of two or three lovely ones.”

“My good child, what are you thinking of?” exclaimed Miss Tibbetts, in accents of severe rebuke. “How can you dream of taking such a liberty?”

“A liberty!” repeated Eden, smiling. “How funny you are, Miss Tibbetts! Do you imagine that Mrs Merstham will feel offended with me for admiring the beautiful things with which she has surrounded herself?”

“But you talk and behave as if you were her equal; and in a young person in your position, I really think its – “

But Eden’s uplifted finger made the spinster pause and Cornelia cough, dubiously.

“I would rather not hear what you think of me, Miss Tibbetts. When I go home, I will ask mamma if I have said or done anything wrong. I always guide myself by her opinions.”

And Eden continued her inspection of some paintings till Mrs Merstham returned, and, seeing that she was interested in them, opened portfolio after portfolio of photographs and engravings, displaying her art treasures long after the Misses Tibbetts, having lunched to their satisfaction had grown as tired of saying “How beautiful!” as their hostess was of hearing it, and gone away.

“I am afraid I have stayed too long!” cried Eden, at last, blushing beautifully, as she started up. “But you have been so kind that I forgot the time.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Verna, letting the sketch book she had been holding slip from her lap, as she leaned back in her velvet chair, a picture herself of luxurious repose. “I wanted to ask you to do something for me; and that is why I kept you. Look here, Miss Aubrey!” and, extending her hand, she drew aside the baize that concealed a half-finished drawing. “I am copying a Holy Family that has taken my fancy. But, as you perceive, the faces of the Virgin is that of a coarse, stolid Dutch peasant, and ruins the effect of the group. My cousin Hilda offered to sit for me, but hers are the stereotyped features of a fine lady, and will not represent a village maiden’s ; but it struck me, as you stood in the doorway, when you first entered the room, that yours was the kind of profile that would suit me.”

Eden glanced towards the mirror, colouring, and smiling very prettily.

“I am afraid my face Is not refined enough.”

“Of course, I shall have to idealise it a great deal,” said Verna in the coldest tones; “but I think it will do. When can you sit for me?”

“I do not know. I will consult Mamma. If she has no objection, I have none.”

Verna raised her finely pencilled brows, as if she had not imagined for a moment that either Mrs Aubrey or Eden could hesitate to accede to her request, and then repeated her question:

“When can you sit for me? To-morrow?”

“Oh! no; it is mamma’s only day at home, and I always devote it to her. But, if I can be spared, I will come to you on Thursday. Will that do?”

“I suppose it must,” said Mrs Merstham, rather ungraciously. “And about remuneration for your trouble, Miss Aubrey?”

Eden, who had stooped for the sketch book, looked up with a little air of surprise and reproach.

“I thought you asked me to do this for you, Mrs Merstham – not for payment.”

“I do not like to be under obligations,” was the haughty response.

“And I should not like to sell the use of my face,” cried Eden merrily. “For leave to paint my eyelids, so much; for one hour at my nose ditto! It sounds comical, doesn’t it? And, seriously, the pleasure of looking at your pictures will amply repay me for the trouble of sitting still for an hour or two.”

“You had better consult your mother about this, too,” said Verna, dryly. “and bring me her answer on Thursday. I will be ready for you by eleven.”

“By eleven,” Eden mechanically repeated, for her eyes were fixed on a water-colour drawing, at which the book she picked up had opened. It represented the ball scene in “Romeo and Juliet,” and the moment in which, at the ardent entreaty of the enamoured Romeo, the beautiful daughter of the Capulets removes her mask.

There was no mistaking the identity of the Juliet. A little younger and more animated, perhaps; yet with the same stately pose and haughty lip, it was an admirable likeness of Verna Merstham.

But it was on the Romeo of the picture that Eden’s gaze was lingering, for it was in this figure the limner had displayed most skill. The attitude of passionate eagerness to behold his lady, the half-parted lips, the entranced eye, were all dashed off crudely, but with excellent effect. This Romeo looked at least two years the junior of Mrs Merstham. His frame, though well knit, had scarcely attained its full proportions. His cheek was smooth, and the down upon his lip was scarcely perceptible. Yet it was a winning, as well as a manly, face; and although too Saxon in its hues and contour to be outwardly a good representation of a fiery Italian youth, it was evident that the actor had thoroughly entered into the character, and that it was with no more semblance of stage-love he was wooing the proud beauty who breathed in his ears the tender speeches of Shakespere’s heroine.

“I beg your pardon, but it is so beautiful,” said Eden, relinquishing the book to Mrs Merstham, when, for the second time, that lady asked what was so engrossing her.

Verna glanced at the drawing, sighed deeply, then pushed the book across the table with such force that it fell on the other side.

“Pshaw! A roughly painted recollection of some private theatricals; that is all. The artist did not do me justice; my attitude is positively ungraceful. When you come again I will show you a far better portrait of myself, but I’ll not detain you now.”

And comprehending directly that this was intended as her dismissal, Eden bade the lady farewell, wondering as she went who the gentleman could be, whose share in the picture and the play Mrs Merstham had chosen to wholly ignore. Not the husband for whom she was just throwing off the crape of widowhood; for his portrait, wrinkled, sallow and peevish, frowned down on the beholder from the wall behind Verna’s chair. What, then, could have become of the ardent, handsome youth who had played the Romeo to her Juliet with such a depth of passionate devotion?

A Homely Man's Wit - The Young Ladies Journal, 1877

2009-10-26T02:56:00.000-07:00

Abdul Aziz, says Lord Staleybridge, was not impervious to the shaft of wit. Once, in his younger days, as he was hunting in the valley, he met one morning as the day dawned an uncommonly ugly man, at the sight of whom his horse started. Being nearly dismounted, and deeming it a bad omen, he called out in a rage to have his head struck off. The poor peasant, whom they had seized and were on the point of executing, prayed that he might be informed of his crime.

"Your crime," said the Sultan, "is your unlucky countenance, which is the first object I saw this morning, and which had nearly caused me to fall from my horse."

"Alas!" said the man, "by this reckoning what term must I apply to your majesty's countenance, which is the first object my eyes met this morning, and which is to be the cause of my death?"

The Sultan smiled at the wit of the reply, ordered the man to be released, and gave him a present instead of taking off his head.

coming next - Romantic Fiction from the 1870's - a longer story this time so will take me a little while to upload. Bear with me. :-)

Part Three - A Midnight Adventure

2009-10-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

Continued from previous post....

"Is Godwyn very ill, Dr Harcourt?" asked Sunny in a low tone, that would tremble in spite of her, and lifting her lovely brown eyes pleadingly as though he could alter the dread fact.

"You cannot hope to keep her long with you, Miss Haverford," answered John Harcourt, in grave sympathetic tones, "She may last for months, or the end may come in a week or two."

There was a long silence. Sunny was battling with her tears, resolutely forcing them back, and Dr Harcourt was well assured that conversation would be distasteful to her just now.

"This is our destination," he said, at last, as he drew up in front of a large handsome house. "Don't be too modest in your terms, Miss Haverford, they can afford to pay handsomely. I must leave you for a few minutes," he continued, as they were shown into the drawing-room. "I have a professional visit to pay to one of your future pupils." He was not long away, and soon returned, accompanied by Lady Stanton.

She greeted Sunny very kindly, and came to terms at once. "I thought of having Signor Mancini for my girls, and should have paid him seventy guineas a year for each. I will give you fifty each, if you decide to take them. I daresay you will think it rather unjust to offer you less, but, you see, Mancini has a name."

"I do not think it at all unjust," answered Sunny, with a pretty laugh. "I know a name is worth a great deal. I hope to have one myself some day."

"I suppose you will not object to let me hear you play," said Lady Stanton, moving across the room, and opening the piano; "you will find something you play here, I daresay."

Sunny chose the Sonata Pathetique, it was in accordance with her thoughts, and unconsciously she gave it wonderful expression that went to the hearts of her auditors. A short silence followed the closing notes.

"You play exquisitely," said Lady Stanton, at last.

They took their leave after a few more words; and John Harcourt divining Sunny's anxiety to be at home, turned his horse's head and drove back - not stopping to call elsewhere - and deemed himself amply repaid by a grateful glance from Sunny's brown eyes, and a low spoken word of thanks.

The two sisters exchanged news.

"I too am in employment now," said Mildred. "I went to the china-painters Miss Harcourt told me of. They were very pleased with my designs, and bought several, and have given an order for a heap more. so Godwyn can have all she requires now. Oh, Sunny, darling!" she broke off abruptly. "Do you know - has Dr Harcourt told you?-"

"That we cannot keep her long? Yes!"
Sunny turned abruptly away.

"Oh, Mildred! Mildred! it does seem hard."

It did seem hard, as days, weeks, even months went on, to see the lovely, gentle girl fading slowly, but only too surely, away. Doubly hard, too, when their fortunes were so steadily increasing.

Sunny found herself a fashionable musician, and had no lack of pupils; whilst Mildred had every spare moment taken up by her drawing.

Dr Harcourt and his sister were unremitting in their attentions.

"Janet," said John Harcourt, rather hesitatingly, one day.

"Well," answered Miss Harcourt, uncompromisingly, though there was a twinkle in her eyes.

"You have often said you wished I would get married," went on the doctor.

"Provided I approved of the bride elect," interrupted Miss Harcourt, sharply.

"Just so. Do you approve of Sunny Haverford?"

"Have you asked her to have you?" demanded Miss Harcourt, breaking her cotton viciously.

"Yes! She has accepted me."

"I do approve of her thoroughly," answered Janet, heartily. "She is a sweet-tempered, sensible, clever, and beautiful girl. I know of no one I should like better."

"Not even Miss Grand?" inquired the doctor mischievously.

"Don't be impertinent," replied Miss Harcourt, declining to discuss the young lady, she being the last of the matrimonial ventures she had propounded to her brother.

Dr Harcourt was crossing over the passage, when there came a hurried ring at the bell. Being near, he opened the door himself. Mrs Brown, flushed and panting stood there, her hand already raised for a second impatient summons.

"Please come at once, sir," she said wiping away a few tears. "They're afraid Miss Godwyn's dying, sir. And, please, she's asked for Miss Harcourt, too, sir, if she'll please come."

"Janet," shouted the doctor, "those poor girls want you."

Without waiting for an answer, he went away at a pace Mrs Brown found it difficult to keep up with.

He entered the dying girl's room, followed by his sister, gently and reverently. Godwyn lay back in Sunny's arms, panting slightly and deathly pale, otherwise she looked much as usual.

"Don't cry so, Milly, please," she said laying her transparent hand on the girl's bowed head.

Mildred with a mighty effort choked back her tears.

"I am afraid the girls will be lonely after I am gone. You will be kind to them, won't you, Janet?"

"My dear, of course I will," replied Miss Harcourt, taking the light burden from Sunny's arms, into her own.

"Can you do nothing?" asked Sunny, in an agonized whisper, turning to Harcourt.

"Nothing. She is out of my hands altogether."
"I wish they had a brother to take care of them," they heard Godwyn's faint voice saying.

John Harcourt came to her side, holding Sunny's hand, "Godwyn, would it make you happier to know they have a protector. Sunny has given herself to me, and I will be a brother to Mildred."

"I am so glad. I hoped it would be so," said Godwyn, smiling, and holding out her hand to Harcourt. he took it, and after a moment's hesitation bent down and kissed her cheek.

They laid her back on her pillows, and for an hour the stillness of the room was broken only by a smothered sob from Mildred.

Sunny, her grief sternly repressed, sat with her eyes fixed on Godwyn, her hands tightly clasped. Miss Harcourt, her face hidden in her hands, sat close to her; whilst John stood near them. All at once he touched his sister. She looked up.

Godwyn had raised herself, an unearthly radiance overspread her face. "Mother!" she gasped, "I am coming." And she sank back lifeless on her pillow.

Eighteen months after there was a quiet wedding, and John Harcourt and Sunny Haverford were made one.

"Won't you change your mind, dear?" asked Sunny after she had taken off her shimmering white robe, and donned her traveling dress.

"No," answered Mildred, with a smile. "Janet and I are going to take a little house by ourselves. We shall give you plenty of company, but we think it better to live by ourselves. Good-bye darling, John is impatient for you. Good-bye."

The End.

Competition winning story written by 'Darkie' - A Midnight Adventure from Sylvia's Home Journal 1886

This story has all the elements of what we would consider a classic Victorian tale (the only thing missing is the ghost!). A poverty stricken beautiful heroine who is also quiet, good, moral, honest, gentle, innocent etc... who is threatened by ruffians (bonus!), forced to show her vulnerability and thereby her bravery, wonderful stuff!

And then there is the death-bed scene, I do wonder, has this author experienced a death-bed scene such as this? So very melodramatic - or perhaps real Victorian death-bed scenes were just too gruesome! The doctor certainly was totally useless!! But I thought his way of putting it... 'you cannot hope to keep her long' was rather sensitive and nice and altogether too well practiced... I guess doctor's in those days lost a lot of their patients. Had Darkie heard a doctor saying this? At any rate, he came good by marrying the girl and therefore rescuing her, but also her sister displays a certain amount of independence and desire to not want to be a 'kept' woman - some women were starting to show their independence at this time, but it might have been controvesrsial to make such an independent woman the heroine of the story. The style of writing aside (which can only be very old fashioned to us - and Darkie whoever she is, is no Jane Austin or Charlotte Bronte) but...What did you think of the story?

Part Two - A Midnight Adventure

2009-10-22T07:50:00.000-07:00

...cont'd from previous post.......

Sunny tried to raise her, but in vain. she flew into Mildred's room.

"Mildred! Mildred! come at once. Godwyn is fearfully ill. I don't know what to do. she stood up by herself for a few minutes, and then fell down. She seems in dreadful pain."

"Was she in bed?" asked Mildred, hurrying on her dressing gown.

"No," answered Sunny, as they ran back to Godwyn's room. "I asked her once if she would go, but she said, 'No, she was resting so comfortably on the couch, she would not go yet.'"

The two girls raised the slight, convulsed form, and laid it gently on the bed.

"Sunny, run and ask Mrs. Brown to go, or send for the doctor," said Mildred, as with trembling hands she endeavoured to force a little brandy between Godwyn's white lips and clenched teeth.

Sunny hesitated but a moment, "Mrs Brown and Maria are both out, I must go myself."

It needed no little courage for the delicately-nurtured girl to go out alone after midnight - in London too. But necessity knows no law. Sunny snatched up a fur-lined cloak, and without any covering on her head ran swiftly downstairs, opened the door, and out into the street.

The rain had passed away, and it was a clear, cold, moonlight night. The doctor who had attended Godwyn upon several occasions before, lived only two or three streets away, and Sunny, as she sped swiftly along, devoutly hoped no one would meet her, as with her sunny-brown hair hanging round her, she looked somewhat remarkable. But she reached the door in safety, and giving a hasty pull at the bell stood back in the shadow of the doorway, and twisted her bright hair into a great knot.

She waited a moment, and then rang again. Would they never come, she thought, standing there alone in the night, the minutes seeming hours, and a terrible fear knocking at her heart lest Godwyn should die before she could bring assistance. At that moment a party of half drunken young men turned the corner of the street.

Sunny shrank back as far as she could, and drew the dark cloak closely round her. But in vain - a gleam of moonlight caught her white gown, and one of the party springing forward, seized her roughly by the arm.

"Hallo! my pretty one. I must have a kiss from those ripe lips," he cried, drawing her towards him.

"Let me go, I beseech you," implored the terrified girl. "I am waiting for the doctor. I am on an errand of life or death."

If they had been sober, her words would have carried conviction; but as it was, they were met with a jeering laugh, and again her persecutor nearly touched her blanched cheek with his lips. With a cry for help, Sunny desperately wrenched herself free, and, forgetful of all else, fled away down the street, pursued by one or two of the men. Flying round a corner, Sunny ran against a stalwart policeman.

"Oh, save me! save me!" she gasped, clinging to his arm. The man put her behind him, and without any very great difficulty dispersed her pursuers.

"Why, bless my heart and soul, it's Miss Sunny Haverford!" he exclaimed, in an astonished tone, as the light from a gas lamp fell full on her white face and disordered hair.

"Yes," answered Sunny, when she had somewhat regained her composure, and feeling it incumbent upon her to give some explanation of her appearance at that time of night. "My eldest sister has been taken dreadfully ill, and as our landlady and her servant are both out, I had to come for the doctor myself. I rang and rang, but could make no one hear, and while I was waiting at the door those men came by. Will you come back with me, please, I am afraid to go alone, and - and -" Sunny fairly broke down.

"Of course I'll come, Miss; don't take on so. I'll rouse the Doctor up in no time, I warrant," said the man, quite melted at the sight of Sunny's tears. He pulled at the bell with such a hearty good will that a window was instantly thrown open, and a voice demanded, "What the devil he meant by ringing like that!"

"The doctor's wanted at once. That's what I mean. There's been a young lady ringing here for twenty minutes and more."

"I'm the Doctor. Who wants me?"

"The Miss Haverfords, at Mrs. Brown's, 20, East Crescent, Bulkedy Road," was the concise answer.

"I will be there immediately." The head was withdrawn, and the window slammed down.

"Now I'll see you safely home, Miss. How did I know you? Why, you see I'm a friend of your landlady's, and so, of course, I know all her lodgers."

Sunny parted from her friendly policeman at the door, and again thanking him for his timely aid, hurried upstairs.

The man walked away, muttering to himself, "Well! Well now, to think of that pretty young creetur being out alone at this time of night. If I hadn't happened to know Mrs. Brown as well as I do, I might have taken her for - goodness knows what." So saying, the honest man drew himself up and walked briskly away on his interrupted beat.

"Sunny, what a time you have been, it has seemed hours," said Mildred. "Why, dear, you are as white as a ghost and shaking like a leaf.""I was detained," said Sunny, trying to smile reassuringly. "I'll tell you about it by and bye. How is Godwyn now?"

"I don't know," answered Mildred, in a distressed tone. "she is unconscious still, and I cannot - There's the doctor I suppose. I will open the door, you don't look fit to stand."

Mildred returned immediately, ushering in the doctor, a handsome grave looking man of thirty four or five.

"Will you call your servant to get some hot water ready," he said after a few moments, during which the girls watched him anxiously.

"She is out for a holiday," explained Sunny. "There are only ourselves in the house. I will see about the water."

"If you will show me the way to the kitchen I will light the fire," said the doctor, with a half smile. "It won't be the first time I have done so, I assure you."

Sunny led the way in silence, and then fetched wood and paper, while the doctor quickly raked out dead ashes and re lit the fire, and soon a bright blaze was roaring up the chimney. Sunny filled the kettle and put it on, and then they returned to the room above.

"Do either of you know much of illness?" asked the doctor, abruptly.

"Hardly anything," replied Mildred. "Godwyn has always been an invalid, but never like this before. Is she very ill?"

"I can't tell yet," answered the doctor, with a grave, kindly, sympathy in his tones. "I will return home, and send my sister, who is an experienced nurse, in my place. I can do nothing in this case, at present, that she cannot. I will come again myself in the morning."

"Thank you so very much," said Mildred, with tears in her eyes. "If your sister will come we shall be so much obliged. But I am afraid it is too much to ask her, as we are perfect strangers to her."

"You will not feel strange with her long, and I assure you she will think herself the obliged one; she likes nursing. Good night, Miss Haverford. Good night, Miss Sunny. No! don't trouble to come down. I shall find my way out all right."

In less than ten minutes after his departure, they heard a sharp knock at the door, and Sunny, opening it, ushered in a bright active little woman of sever or eight and thirty.

"Now, my dears, the first thing is to get this poor girl to bed," she said, and between them they tenderly undressed poor Godwyn and laid her in bed. The doctor's sister, Miss Harcourt, seemed at home at once, and gave confidence to the girls, who were terrified at Godwyn's prolonged unconsciousness.

"Have you any flannels handy?" she asked cheerfully. "Get them out then, while Sunny and I go for the hot water. This is Sunny isn't it?" Ah! I thought so." And talking thus the little lady bustled away. It was wonderful to see her quick, quiet, deft ways about the invalid girl.

"So! That's better," she said quietly, when Godwyn opened her dark eyes languidly, at last. "Now, I suppose one of you two girls will want to sit up with me, and the other must go to bed. There is not the slightest reason for both to be up, or even one, as far as that goes. But you would not be happy to leave her entirely with me, I suppose."

"I should like to stay up, if you do not mind," said Mildred pleadingly; "Sunny must go to bed. She sat up with Godwyn the first part of the night, while I was asleep."

So it was settled, and Sunny left the two watchers beside the patient sufferer.

Miss Harcourt poured a little claret and water into a glass, and carefully measured a few drops of a dark coloured liquid into it.

Now my dear, give this to your sister. It is a sleeping draught that John said she was to have when she recovered consciousness. I daresay she will like to take it from you better than from me."

Mildred gently raised Godwyn's head, and put the glass to her lips. She drank the contents obediently, and in less than half an hour her nurses had the satisfaction of seeing her in a quiet sleep. Before morning, kindly Miss Harcourt had gleaned some particulars of the Haverford girls' troubles, and in her own bright way had done not a little towards smoothing them. Her brother knew, she told Mildred, of a lady who wanted a finished musician to improve her three daughters, and that he would gladly introduce Sunny to her. She also gave Mildred some kindly sensible advice about herself, and gave her the name of a large firm of china-painters. "You are more likely to succeed there, my dear, if you can adapt your designs to the style of work. There are so many who could design a mantel border, or curtain, who would be all at sea if you asked them to design a group for a vase."

The bright genial woman spent her time in doing good and petting her brother, spoiling him, he said. Her sympathy was always so delicately expressed that the proudest did not rebel against it. Her heart warmed towards these motherless girls fighting so bravely against fate. True - she did not know the extent of their poverty, but she guessed enough to enlist her warmest sympathy.

When Mrs Brown returned in the morning, great was her consternation at the events of the previous night, and as there was nothing else for her to do, she set about preparing a prodigious breakfast that could not have been eaten by a dozen people. Great also was her disappointment when Miss Harcourt declared she must go home to hers, and to see that her brother had his properly. As for the two girls they hardly ate anything.

"I don't know what we are to do, Sunny," said Mildred, choking back her tears. "Miss Harcourt says Godwyn must have plenty of nourishing food. I could not tell her we have only elevenpence in the world. I think we have sold everything we have that is saleable. Even if you get those pupils, I do not suppose they will pay in advance."

"I must ask for it, that's all," said Sunny, despondingly. To see Sunny lose heart, was dreadful. She pushed away the plate she had been toying with, and rose. She left the room, and for about an hour Mildred saw no more of her. When she came back her face looked a little brighter, although Mildred saw she had been crying.

"I have been having a long talk with nursie," she said, "and she has lent us this. I thought I would rather ask her than a stranger." Sunny opened her hand and displayed five sovereigns.

"She was very kind," said the girl, with a little tremor in her voice.

"And I think she was pleased to lend it. She has got three more lodgers coming, and she hinted delicately that she shouldn't miss the money at all, that in fact she had not known quite what to do with it."

At this juncture Dr. Harcourt and his sister returned.

"Mildred, will you take John up to see your sister. Can you spare time, Sunny, to go out now? for if so, John will take you at once to see about getting Lady Stanton's daughters."

"Oh! thank you so much," cried Sunny brightening. "I hope it will not be putting Dr Harcourt out."

"I don't think he will find it so," said Miss Harcourt smiling, and looking admiringly at the girl's fair sweet face.

Sunny did not keep Dr Harcourt waiting, and by the time he came down from Godwyn's room she was ready.

"That is very good of you, Miss Sunny," he said approvingly. "I thought ladies took about half an hour to get ready."

"I never take so long as that," said Sunny with a faint smile.

Dr Harcourt handed her into his phaeton which was waiting at the door, and they drove away.

to be continued.... check back soon for the next and final part of this story.

Part One - A Midnight Adventure

2009-10-21T23:51:00.000-07:00

This story was the winner in a competition for best short story held in 1886. The winner's name is given only as 'Darkie'.

"No luck again," said Mildred Haverford, sinking wearily into a chair, in the shabby, comfortless room, looking doubly cheerless now, as the rain pattered drearily against the begrimed window, and cold gusts of wind shook and rattled the crazy frame. her sigh was echoed by the younger girl, as she drew near her sister, and kissed the cold face, and tenderly smoothed back the wet hair.

"Mildred, darling, you must go and change your dress, you are quite wet and so cold. I will light the fire; it will not be a very great extravagance, and it is such a wretched night!"

"I will go and change my dress. But, Sunny, you must not light the fire, dear. I changed our last shilling tonight to buy Godwyn's flower. I could not bear to disappoint her, and it was only a penny."

"Oh no! of course not," said Sunny, her bright face clouding. "Take it to her, dear, as soon as you have changed your gown. she has been quite anxious about you being out in this terrible rain."

Mildred left the room, and proceeded upstairs to the bedroom these two sisters shared, where she changed her wet dress, then crossing over the landing opened another door.

A girl lay on a couch, drawn in front of a small fire. Some attempts the sisters had made to brighten the patient invalid's room. cheap, pretty chintz curtains had replaced the faded green ones belonging to the landlady. A set of stained wood bookshelves held a selection of handsomely bound books - relics of former days - and one or two pieces of old blue china stood on the mantelpiece. A not of bright ribbon tied back the plain white bed curtains, and upon a little table by the sofa stood a pretty glass vase of flowers, and an empty specimen glass was waiting for to-day's fresh flower.

Mildred came quietly up behind her sister, and held the flower she carried against her colourless, delicate cheek.

Godwyn's face lighted up. "A rose, that's nice! I have been wondering what flower you would bring me, it is quite an excitement, and I never guess right."

"What did you guess today?" asked Mildred, whose eyes, despite her resolve to be cheerful, had filled with tears at Godwyn's pleasure.

"I guessed a dahlia today," answered Godwyn, smiling a little. "come round here, dear, I cannot see you where you are now. did you get very wet, poor child?"

Mildred resolutely forced back her tears, and came round to the other side of the couch, and kneeling down put her arm about her sister.

"No, not very," she answered cheerfully. "You see omnibuses are so plentiful at this time."

She had not come home in an omnibus, for fear of spending another penny of her slender stock, but Godwyn must not know that.

The door opened, and Sunny came in and joined the two at the fire.

They were a pretty group. The pale, lovely girl on the sofa, her chestnut hair rippling back from her patient, suffering face; Mildred with her dark blue eyes fixed on the fire, her dark head resting against the couch; and Sunny, with her bright face and sunny curly locks, and her loving brown eyes, smiling at Godwyn.

Godwyn was the first to speak. "Milly, do you know your hair is quite wet? You ought to dry it, dear. How did you get it so damp if you came home in an omnibus?"

"I had to walk a little way up Oxford Street before I saw one," replied Mildred. This was true enough.

"I am going to unfasten your hair and dry it, Milly," said Sunny, proceeding to let down her sister's beautiful dark hair, that fell in clustering curls about her shoulders. "You ought always to wear your hair down," she said, having at last completed her drying process, and letting the heavy mass of curls fall from her hands; "oughtn't she, Godwyn?"

"Yes I think so," replied Godwyn looking admiringly at her pretty sisters.

A tap at the door, and a quiet, motherly-looking woman came in. "Tea is ready, Miss Mildred," she announced.

"Thanks, Mrs Brown, we will come now," said Sunny, taking Mildred's arm. "I am going to make this sister of mine have her tea without doing her hair up. She has got it quite wet."

"Quite right too," responded Mrs Brown, following the two girls out, and closing the door gently behind her.

Mrs Brown had been an old servant of the Haverfords before the crash came that broke up their pleasant home, and caused Mr Haverford to follow the gentle mother, who was but a dim memory to the two elder girls, and a sacred name only to Sunny.

Mrs Brown had married, and was now a widow; and eked out the small income left her by her husband, by letting lodgings.

When the girls had been thrown on their own resources, two years ago, they had gone to their old nurse, and Mildred and Sunny had devoted themselves to keeping their suffering eldest sister from want. Hitherto, their efforts had been crowned with success, but it now seemed as if Fate itself was against them. The firm that employed Mildred in designing, had failed, and every subsequent effort had proved of no avail. Whilst Sunny, who taught music, and, in consequence of her gift for it had a large number of pupils, lost them all through three having a bad attack of diphtheria.

"I'm dreadfully vexed, Miss Mildred," began Mrs Brown, standing at the door of the girls' sitting room. "But I promised Maria three days' holiday, and said she might go to night. You see she lives in Hampshire, and she wants all the time at home, and mother has sent round to know if I can spend the night with her, as she isn't all well, and...." here Mrs Brown paused perplexedly.

"You need not hesitate on our account, nursie," said Mildred smiling. "No one is likely to run away with us in one night"

"I don't half like it, Miss Mildred. but I clear don't know what to do - and that's the truth. it wouldn't be kind to stop Maria from starting tonight, as she have wrote home to say she's coming and all; and I don't like to disappoint mother either."

Of course you don't" said Sunny briskly. "Neither Milly nor I are afraid. And of course you mustn't stop Maria, and of course yo must go to your mother."

"Thank you very much," replied Mrs Brown, gratefully. "Shan't I light the fire, Miss Mildred, before I go?"

"No thanks," answered Mildred, "it is hardly worth while. We shall go up to Godwyn's room directly after tea."

"I had a hamper from my sister in Devon today, and so I made bold to bring you a few things up. She sent such a lot, I couldn't eat all myself, nohows." Mrs Brown fairly ran out of the room to escape the girls' thanks.

"I am so glad," said Mildred, placing some fine strawberries and delicious clotted cream on a plate, and spreading a thin slice of real home-made bread with fresh golden butter, "I think Godwyn will enjoy these so much."

"I wonder if Mrs Brown knew how nearly our own butter was at an end," said Sunny, with a touch of bitterness, "see". she had unlocked a cupboard, and taken thence a plate holding a bit of butter about the size of a walnut.

"Don't be spiteful, Sunny. Will you take Godwyn's tea, or shall I?"

"You take it!"

Mildred soon reappeared.

"Did she like it?"

"Yes I think so."

After tea the two girls went to their sister's room.

"Oh Godwyn," exclaimed Sunny, reproachfully, "you have eaten nothing."

"I am very sorry, dear," answered Godwyn, penitently. "But I am not hungry at all tonight."

"Hungry? As if anyone need be hungry to eat strawberries and clotted cream!"

"I did eat two strawberries."

"Well I suppose I mustn't scold after such a meal as that," said Sunny, arranging her sister's pillows tenderly.

"Now shall we have some reading?"

Sunny got her book and began reading, and Mildred her porfolio, to make more sketches, in the hope of producing something better still. Thus the evening wore away, Sunny exchanging reading for playing, until at last Mildred announced she was going to bed. Sunny followed her sister from the room. "I shall sit up with Godwyn tonight," she said in a low tone.

"no, not you, you sat up last time, and, besides, you are worn out with your journeyings today, poor old darling. I am rather uneasy about her. But there is not the slightest need for you as well,m so go to bed like a good girl."

The sisters kissed, and separated for the night.

Sunny selected the most comfortable chair, replaced her dress by a pretty dressing gown of white flannel plentifully trimmed with lace, unfastened and shook her hair, then ensconced herself in her chair, and took up a book. She read steadily on for three or four hours, looking up now and then to watch her sleeping sister, or to noiselessly replenish the fire.

"Godwyn! what is the matter?" she cried, in a terrified tone.

Godwyn had risen into a sitting posture, and was gasping for breath.

Sunny flung open the window, and let the cool refreshing night air into the room.

Godwyn sprang from the couch, tottered a few steps across the room, and then sank to the floor, half-insensible, and writhing in agony.

...to be continued...(check back soon for the next instalment).

Apologies

2009-05-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

for not having updated for some time... at the moment life seems to be very hectic indeed. I will get my act together at some point... but probably not for another month or two..... if you want to stop following this blog I will not be offended... honest!

Flabby People

2009-04-25T00:51:00.000-07:00

Flabby people! Do we not all know them? No matter how limited is our acquaintance, we must know some to whom this adjective applies in its fullest significance; people who never seem to know what to do, where to go, or how to spend their money; who are continually asking for advice, always consulting their friends as to what books they ought to read, what music they should play, what amusements they ought to see - who are, in fact, perpetually falling about in a state of helpless perplexity, like a shape of jelly that will not turn out, but lies in a confused mass on the dish.

"If they only had a little cohesion, a little grit, a little backbone!" we exclaim piteously, but it is a vain wish. Flabby people remain flabby to the end of the chapter. It is no use to prop them up artificially or to try and put new gelatine into them; they only get flabbier and flabbier the longer they live. Whenever a decision has to be made about any ordinary matter and such decisions confront us at every hour in the day - this aggravating flabbiness peeps out with startling distinctness. To drive or not to drive, to dress or not to dress, eat or not to eat, to sing or not to sing, to mourn or not to mourn, to dance or not to dance, to laugh or not to laugh, to speak or not to speak, to bow or not to bow, to visit or not to visit, to frown or not to frown; these are some of the critical problems that flabby people have to solve continually. They are unable to cut the knot by one swift prompt step, and so the daily burden of all these important decisions seem to them almost too heavy to be borne. The old man and his ass, in the fable, is a type of such people. "I really don't know what to decide about this visit to Brighton," says Mrs. Flabbimore to her particular friend; "some people strongly advise me to go, others persuade me not to go; my sisters are all for my going, and my children urge me to give up the idea. It is very hard to make up one's mind. I really don't know what to decide on." And then comes a look of utter bewilderment, which belongs exclusively to our dear flabby friends. They are very fond of sheltering themselves under that indefinite "one," and continually speak of "one's feelings," "one's family," and "one's servants."

Though flabbiness is more a feminine defect than a masculine one, still there are flabby men, and they are even more provoking than flabby women, because we naturally expect to find sturdiness and power of will in the stronger sex. The best thing that can happen to a flabby man is for him to find a strong-minded wife, who is able to rule him as well as herself. Unless he does, he is perpetually falling into unpleasant scrapes, taking somebody's advice and putting his money into rotten investments, or falling a victim to some clever impostor who knows how to gull the unwary. Flabby people are fair game for all kinds of schemers, and prove an easy prey. They answer ingeniously -worded advertisements, sell their curiosities at a loss, and then remark what fools they have been. They are often charitable, amiable, and loving, only - they are flabby! And just as in a mild foggy day, we sometimes long for a sharp north-east wind to blow its vigorous breeze into the dull air, so when we are with flabby people, we often long for prompt decision and firmness, even though they may be accompanied by a brusque manner and a loud dictatorial voice.
Slyvia's Home Journal, 1886

Venice in Spring

2009-04-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

People who write about Venice are, more often than not, lamentably like lovers. They rave about 'the jewel in the waters,' the tender hues of its heavens at all hours of the day, and even of the night, the unutterable charm of its decay, the romance of its history, the amiability of its men and women, and (mirabile dictu) its boys, and the infinite sweetness of the bond which subtly attaches them to the dear mouldering old city of the Lagoons - precisely as a lovelorn youth rates of his mistress's eyebrows. Their shibboleth, like that of the lover's is not understanded of the people. Only they who are in the secret have any sympathy with it.

Now such a strain, however harmonious, is, I think, apt to irritate honest people who stay at home at ease, crystallised into contentment, and who like their literature to suggest that their course of life is out of question the wisest possible. One sees its parallel effect in the heaving of the shoulders and the pursing of the lips of the middle-aged bachelor who, in a country lane, comes at hazard upon a pair of sweethearts in the first stage of their delirium. Who can wonder at this? Such writers are both impolitic and selfish. They would know better than to exhaust their vocabulary in laud of a friend whom they desired to recommend to the goodwill of others. Dispraise is often kinder than faint praise or over-praise. And, on the other hand, by their dithyramb, they make one fancy that it is not Venice they are in love with, so much as their own delightful powers of description; that, in fact, they forget their subject, and remember only themselves. Even so the lover who dotes on the fair face of his mistress loves her the more that he beholds his own reflection in her beautiful eyes.
Cornhill Magazine, 1889.

A Stroll through the Parliamentary Lobby

2009-04-08T01:05:00.000-07:00

Comparatively few persons know how interesting an insight into Parliamentary life may be got in what is well known at Westminster as "the Lobby". This name, simple and unpretentious, does not include the public corridors or the outer precincts, where strangers may loiter at will. It applies exclusively to the more reserved inner circle, at the main entrance to the House of commons, which only Members of Parliament and other privileged persons may frequent. In this advantageous arena for observation, a visitor can not only, as the familiar phrase goes, rub shoulders with any of our leading politicians, but may also watch the varied incidents which enliven leisure intervals, when senators retreat from the occasional tedium of the legislative chamber.

The approaches to the Lobby are guarded by police whose duty, discharged with firmness and courtesy, is to prevent the entrance of persons not entitled to admission. Each of these officers has a list of those who, not being members of the House, are yet authorised by the Sergeant-at-Arms, on behalf of the Speaker, to enter here without let or hindrance. They include a number of public officials, private secretaries to the right hon. gentlemen, the accredited agents of leading political organisations, the City Remembrancer, and a representative of each of the press agencies, as well as of the principal newspapers. Other persons may be introduced for a short time by members, upon whom there are many calls daily for the exercise of this prerogative. Frequenters of the Lobby soon learn its habits, by which may be understood the times when this select area is seen to most advantage. Between eight and ten o'clock each evening the place looks empty and deserted, most of the members having then gone to dinner; but at certain other hours, both before and after that quiet interval, it is thronged by those whom public business or private friendship brings together at this favourite rendezvous. Opposite the entrance passage are the portals of the House of Commons, jealously guarded on either side by trusty servants of the State. No rash intruder dare cross this threshold, save only the favoured few whom members, by virtue of an order from the Speaker, may conduct to the select seats under the galleries devoted to peers and distinguished strangers. The more absolute line of reserve is drawn at the Bar, within which none may enter but the duly elected and sworn representatives of constituencies. On the left hand side of the Lobby is the members' private entrance, and the Conference-room - where deputations frequently interview representatives of the Government. Near this apartment are the offices of the political "whips", who look closely after the due attendance of the members of their respective parties in critical divisions, or, more reluctantly, arrange the "pairing off" of such as partially atone for absence from an important vote by getting coupled with other absentees from the opposite side. The Liberal and Conservative parties have each two responsible whips and a couple of assistants, who are seldom absent from the Lobby when the House is in session. A staff of messengers is in constant attendance upon these gentlemen, ready to be sent upon such hurried errands as the exigencies of Parliamentary business may require.

From the right-hand side of the Lobby there branches off the carpeted corridor which leads to the reading-room, dining room, library, tea-room, smoke room etc, which all contribute towards placing the House of Commons foremost in some respects among the many clubs of London. On mild summer evenings the favourite retreat for members is the private terrace by the river-side where overlooking the Thames, in full view of St Thomas's Hospital and the electrically lighted Embankment - wearied legislators escape for a time the prolixity of dull debates. In describing the other accessories of the Lobby, a post office and refreshment bar, occupying opposite corners, should be mentioned as two convenient institutions which both command a due share of patronage.

Cassells Family Magazine, 1883.

Nursing as a Profession for Women

2009-04-06T06:58:00.000-07:00

The number of women in the United Kingdom who earn their living as attendants on the sick has been estimated as 20,000. Of these, about 15,000 earn only from £20 to £25 a year, and probably not more than 200 earn over £100 a year; so that at first sight nursing does not seem to offer great monetary advantages. The "plums" of the profession are very, very few. What, then, is the attraction which causes some hundreds of women to apply for every vacancy for a probationer which offers at a good nurse-training school? The chief attraction, doubtless, is the universal esteem in which attendance on the sick is held, and has ever been held, by all sorts and conditions of men. George Eliot expresses this very finely when she writes: "Here is a duty about which all creeds and all philosophies are at one; here you may begin to act without settling one preliminary question. As we bend over the sick-bed, all the forces of our nature rush towards the channel of pity, of patience, and of love, and sweep down the miserable, choking drift of our quarrels, our debates, our would-be wisdom, and our clamorous selfish desires. This is one source of the sweet calm which is often felt by the watcher in the sick-room, even when the duties there are of a hard and terrible kind." Then, not only is the work satisfactory in itself, but it is pre-eminently woman's work. There is no competition with men, no thought of lowering the wages of male breadwinners, or facing black looks from students of the other sex. And if the actual pay of nurses is small, it is nearly always a case with them of "everything found," so that save for their annual holiday and their personal clothing they have no expenses. The last advantage of the profession, but by no means the least, is that there is not necessarily any premium required, or any previous training. If a woman will consent to bind herself for three years to serve in a hospital, she is taught her profession for nothing, and is independent from the moment of entering the hospital doors. For instance, at the Middlesex Hospital, Mortimer Street, the probationers are paid £12, £18, and £20 for the first three years; after that, the wages of nurses rise to £25, or of sisters to £30. these payments are typical of those existing in other hospitals. Be it noted in passing that the term "sister" has no religious signification whatever in hospital life; it is merely the name given to distinguish the head nurse who has charge of a ward, from her subordinates.

Of course there are hospitals where paying probationers are taken - ladies who pay a guinea a week for the privilege of learning a little about nursing without having to bind themselves for a lengthy period. If a would-be nurse can afford it, this is an excellent way of gaining an insight into hospital life, and finding out if the work is agreeable and possible. For nursing is very trying and serious labour for both heart and hand. It is impossible to minister constantly wearied in body and distressed in mind. And yet a nurse must be ever cheerful and bright; to be attended when ill by a listless and spiritless person is to sap the little bit of life and hope out of one; therefore no one should attempt to be a nurse who is not naturally strong both physically and mentally. Also young girls should never be allowed to become nurses; twenty-one for a children's hospital, or twenty-five for a general hospital, should be the age limits.
The Young Woman, January, 1893.

Our Summer Gathering in Lucerne

2009-04-05T06:23:00.000-07:00

We are making arrangements for a great gathering of the readers of THE YOUNG WOMAN and THE YOUNG MAN, to be held at Lucerne during August next. Parties will leave London every Tuesday and Friday in August, and the tour will last twelve days - seven of which will be spent in Lucerne, and the rest in various trips to other parts of Switzerland. The cost of second-class return tickets (with first class on boat) and full hotel accommodation will be £10, 10s.

The programme will be an exceptionally attractive one. It will include a paper by Miss Annie S. Swan, lectures and sermons by Rev. W. J. Dawson, a lecture by Dr. Conan Doyle, two sermons by the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes, a concert in which Mrs Mary Davies, Madame Antoinette Sterling, and other distinguished artistes will take part, a lecture by the Rev. Silas K. Hocking, who will also read a paper on "Novels and Novel-Writing," and a lecture by the Rev. J. Reid Howatt. Mrs. Crawford, the Paris correspondent of the Daily News, has promised to be present and to read a paper on "Journalism as a Profession for Women"; and social receptions will be held on August 5th and 12th by Mr Frederick A. Atkins and the Rev. W.J. Dawson.

With such a brilliant programme, and such a cheap and attractive holiday trip, we are not surprised to find that there is already a great demand for tickets. As the accommodation is limited, we advise our readers to book as early as they possibly can. Applications (enclosing a guinea, half of which will be returned if the applicant is unable to go) should be addressed to the Editor of The Young Woman, 9 Paternoster Row, London, E.C. The remaining nine guineas need not be paid until a month before leaving England. Further particulars will be found in the circular which we send out with this number.
The Young Woman, January 4th, 1893.

The Inductophone

2009-03-29T01:58:00.000-07:00

An interesting development of the telephone has recently been made by Mr Willoughby Smith, the well-known electrician. It has long been known that telephonic sounds could be transmitted through the air by means of "induction" from one wire to another, and, in the early days of the telephone, persons listening at a telephone connected to one telegraph line could overhear music and conversation being sent along a neighbouring wire. Mr Smith has devised an apparatus on this principle of induction, which enables a number of persons in the same room to hear telephonic sounds by simply holding a telephone to their ears in the neighbourhood of the apparatus in question, the influence being transmitted to the telephones through the air by induction. The inductophone, as the instrument is called consists of a wooden frame, in size and shape like an ordinary flat looking glass frame. The frame is wound across in a vertical direction with very fine platinum wire covered with silk, to prevent the different turns touching each other, and short-circuiting the current of electricity, which is received from the distant station and passed through the coil. This current, which conveys the sound, is in Mr. Smith's original apparatus transmitted by a vibrating tuning-fork, at the distant station. The tuning fork is placed in the circuit of a battery, and the line-wire, and at each vibration it sends a pulse of electricity into the line. These pulses traverse the wire of the inductophone at the receiving station, and in doing so produce a magnetic field around the coil which appears to extend to a considerable distance, and penetrates brick walls, glass, gutta-percha, and other non-magnetic substances. If now a telephone, which may have its coil removed and consist only of the iron diaphragm and magnet is held to the ear in the neighbourhood of the coil, the magnetic changes produced in the surrounding magnetic field by the intermittent current, circulating in the fine wire, will so affect the diaphragm that the sound of the tuning-fork will be clearly audible. The skeleton telephone should be held so that the iron diaphragm cuts the "lines of magnetic force" in the space around the coil, otherwise if it is parallel to these lines there will be no effect. While upon this subject, we may mention that a secret telephone company has been started in New York, whereby it is rendered very difficult for any one to overhear a message except the parties concerned. For this purpose two wires far apart are used, and the message is sent piecemeal over one or other wire, alternately, by means of a rapidly-rotating contact-maker. Any one tapping a single wire can thus only hear snatches of the message. For state and business uses this arrangement may be very serviceable.
Cassell's Family Magazine, 1883.

Oil on the Waves

2009-03-26T01:36:00.000-07:00

It is well known that the ancient metaphor about "pouring oil on troubled waters" to calm them is literally true; and ships at sea have been saved from foundering by pouring barrels of oil upon the waves around. A striking experiment of the kind was recently made at Peterhead in Scotland, in order to allow a fleet of fishing-boats to enter the stormy harbour with their cargoes. By means of a reservoir and pipes leading to the harbour, a stream of oil was discharged upon the water, and spreading in a thin film over its surface, reduced the rough waves to a mere swell, and permitted the boats to land. The chief action of the oil is probably to diminish the friction between the wind and water, and thus prevent the formation of waves, while the existing motion of the water quickly subsides into a low heaving. Probably the experiment, after the success at Peterhead, will be repeated elsewhere.
Cassell's Family Magazine, 1883.

Syrup of Figs

2009-03-25T01:40:00.000-07:00

Nature's Pleasant Laxative,

Is the very perfection of laxative and purifying medicine. It is pleasant to the taste, gentle but thorough in action and for CONSTIPATION, BILIOUSNESS, HEADACHE, and all kindred complaints, it may be relied upon as an unfailing and permanent remedy. The original and genuine preparation is made only by the CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO., and unless you see their trade mark on the package you have been served with an imitation that will prove a source of disappointment.

Of all chemists, 1d, 2 1/2d and 2s 5d or post free on receip0t of price from the Depot for Great Britain and Colonies: 32 Snow Hill, London, E.C.

Home Chat magazine May 9, 1896

Living Signs

2009-03-19T02:08:00.000-07:00

How they advertise in New York and Chicago

There seems to be no limit to the ingenious schemes of the Yankee business man to advertise his wares, and the countryman or foreigner who happens to walk along Broadway, New York, or State Street, Chicago, any one of these days finds himself ejaculating, "Well, I wonder what they'll be doing next!" Whilst there appears to be no drop in the number of whole page advertisements in the monthly magazines and daily newspapers, and while there is scarcely a historic spot or famous haunt on earth without its immense signboard about somebody's pills or anybody's soap, the advertising people pay huge sums of money for still newer methods for a "business-fetching ad.," while keeping up their unstinted usage of the old mediums. The latest of these newer schemes is the"living sign."

Described generally, the "living sign" is a person who, while walking about the streets like an ordinary citizen, does something unusual to attract the attention of a large crowd, and then suddenly pulls out a banner containing an announcement that Smith's cigars are the best on earth. Of course everybody laughs at being "taken in" so cleverly. While, on the face of it, one would think that making a fool of a man is a bad way to to try to win his patronage, the living sign has the desired effect, for the striking scene is sure to induce the spectators to tell their friends all about it when they reach their office or their homes.

A few months before this was written, the living sign was practically unknown - unless one includes the time-out-of-mind "sandwich men." To-day, however, nearly every large soap-making firm, patent medicine manufacturer, or cigar maker of New York has one or more living signs constantly parading the streets, and there is scarcely any line of business in which at least one firm has not put forward its living advertisement.
The Royal Magazine, January, 1900

Care of the Hair, Eyes, Etc.

2009-03-17T02:20:00.000-07:00

No girl can be really plain who has good eyes and abundant hair, if she will only refrain from screwing up her locks into a displeasing tightness. With the hair, as with the face, ineffable cleanliness is a wonder - worker. "What lovely hair!" said a girl once, taking up a long, thick tress that lay on the glass counter in a barber's shop. A curious expression came into the man's face, as he replied, "It's your own, miss." She had grown that hair on her own head, but no one would ever have dreamed that what was on her own head at the moment had the smallest affinity with it. The dissevered tress was clean! In it were many shades of glossy brown, some like the rind of a horse chestnut, others with a tint of gold in them. The dull, dead, muddy brown of the hair under her hat needed only a touch from the magic wand of the fairy Cleanliness to be as beautiful.

The loveliest hair I ever saw belonged to a beautiful woman well-known in the highest circles of London society. That lovely hair lies low now, with the sweet grey eyes and the commanding beauty of the graceful figure. "How do you keep your hair so bright in all this horrid London fog?" she was once asked, and replied that her brushes were never used twice without having been washed in the interval. Six of them lay on her toilet-table, and these were used in rotation. The inconvenience of frequently washing and drying such a quantity of hair with the attendant risk of catching cold, was thus avoided. The method is a good one. Hair and brushes both get dusty, but if the latter are kept immaculately clean they do much to make and keep the former so.
How to be Pretty though Plain by Mrs Humphry "Madge" of "Truth" author of "Manners for Men" Publication undated but from illustration on cover dated to the latter part of the 1890's possibly early 1900's.

The Englishwoman's Conversazione

2009-03-15T02:14:00.000-07:00

Leonora - Is the wearing of jewellery on the decline, or otherwise? On the decline, most certainly, in a general sense, but on state occasions the blaze of diamonds is not less than ever. Beautiful execution and design in ivory, jet, or stone are now-a-days often more esteemed than ugly masses of gold and brilliants. The love of variety too, prompts even ladies of rank to change the fashion of their jewellery, and to be happier with an electro-plate duplicate of a work of fine art, which cost but a few pounds, than when adorned with a "gem" which would buy a German dukedom. The following historical facts, ancient and comparatively modern, are particularly interesting on this subject: - Sollia Paulina, a Roman lady, being invited to a banquet went to it bearing about her person chains, carcanets, and precious stones worth a million of money. Sir Walter Raleigh was observed at the court of Queen Elizabeth to wear his shoes so set with pearls and precious stones that they were estimated to exceed the value of six thousand six hundred crowns; and George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, the favourite of James I, when admitted to an audience by Louis XIII, King King of France, as ambassador from the King of Great Britain, had jewels on his coat to the value of £100,000. These facts undoubtedly apply to state occasions; but, even at such times as those, we, in these latter days, do not desire to vie with our ancestors.
The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine, October 1862

The Young Woman in Society by Frances E Willard.

2009-03-13T02:47:00.000-07:00

It is hard to write upon this subject, especially when one is a stranger in a strange land, but my interest in the young woman as represented by this magazine, and the young woman as an entity in England and America, is such that I will try to jot down a few points that occur to me. To my mind, the general principle that should govern our relations to society is this - we should try to make those around us better and happier in the most wise and tactful ways, and to adapt those ways to the age, circumstances, and outlook of those with whom we mingle.

A young woman of my acquaintance happily expressed her idea of the best way to conduct oneself in society by saying, "Try to make everybody have a good time, and yet at the same time be doing good to somebody."

"The doing of good" is a wide expression, but it would seem to apply with most force to the building up of those around us against what may be their most subtle and dangerous temptations. For a young woman to take on the air of an exhorter, a mentor, a teacher, or a superior, is odious, and may in every instance defeat her aim, if she is thoughtful enough to have one.

Man must be taught as though you taught him not,

And things remembered told as things forgot.

The right angle is by no means as graceful as the parabola. The circle is the line of beauty, the square the line of use; to combine these should be our aim. By way of practical illustration along paths with which I am familiar, may I mention that when first I began my temperance work, the prettiest and most popular young woman in the senior class of the university in which I was a professor came to me and said, "I really did not think much about the temperance movement until you joined it, and began to speak in public. Your pupils wish to help you in every way they can. Then we have ourselves received what you often call 'the arrest of thought.' Until now I certainly had not a thought upon the subject, but it comes to my mind that I am to entertain our class in my home within a week, and I have purchased a pretty little autograph album, which I have brought with me, that you may write in it the temperance pledge, and sign it yourself as an example to the flock. I will put my name under yours, and we will have the book on a table in some convenient corner of the drawing-room, where from time to time I can show it to different members of our class, both the young men and the young women, - for I should not like to single out the young men and ask them to sign it, " she added , with a wise forethought. This we agreed upon, and the evening in question resulted in a charming social entertainment, and the autographs of nearly every member of the class - there were well-nigh a hundred - being written in the book. Nobody was urged; there was just a little pleasantry about how glad Miss _____ would be to secure the names of her class friends, and a playful exhibition of the "prefatory note in the form of the pledge."

Excerpt from The Young Woman Magazine February, 1893.

Feverish Unrest

2009-03-11T02:05:00.000-07:00

Our great-grandmothers taught that "repose of manner" was an essential attribute to all true gentlewomen. When a woman talked it must be in a low, soft voice, and without gesticulation, no matter what pretty rings she might be wearing, nor how dainty and white were her hands. In sitting neither the feet nor the knees might be crossed; it was not "nice." But we of to-day seemed to have reversed these edicts. "Whatever you do, don't be stiff," has become our motto. Our girls all seem to stand in such fear of being voted "slow" or "stiff" that they risk running to the opposite extreme, and becoming "loud" or "eccentric." In the craze after "naturalness" the pendulum has swung to the opposite extreme, and we have feverish unrest.
Home Chat Magazine, 1896.

Notice to Correspondents And Subscribers Generally

2009-03-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

Inquisitive Polly - (1) You can purchase the nose machine from Mr Alex Ross, 248 High Holborn, London. It can be sent by post. (2) No, it is always better for the gentleman to be a few years the senior. (3) John signifies "God's gift;" Arthur, "High, Noble;" Eliza, "a worshipper of God;" Annie, "Grace, Goodwill;" (4) Washing the face every other night with spirits of wine is said to remove the little specks that fill up the pores of the skin. (5) We can recommend you nothing better than the frequent use of glycerine. (6) Take a good deal of exercise in the open air, and avoid eating bread, potatoes, sugar, or, in fact, anything containing saccharine matter. Drink claret, and avoid beer.

Nellie Ray - (1) The mixture for whitening the skin, called Creme de Beaute, is prepared by Mr. Rimmel, 96, Strand, London. The price per bottle is 1s. or 2s 6d. (2) For improving the texture of the skin , see our answer No 5. to "Inquisitive Polly." (3) Wash to whiten the nails: Take of diluted sulphuric acid two drachms; pump water, 4 oz; tincture of myrrh, one drachm; mix. First cleanse with soap-and-water, then dip the tips of the fingers into the wash.
Taken from The Young Ladies' Journal No. 668, 1877.

Nothing changes does it? - A Modern Scam in 1886

2009-03-09T01:49:00.000-07:00

Muriel Merton writes - Dear Sylvia, I have obtained a situation as a nursery governess, and as I am quite new to the duties, etc, would be glad if you will kindly answer one or two questions. 1. How often is it usual to have a holiday? (Generally one day a month, but it is according to arrangement when the engagement is made.) 2. How would the salary be paid, monthly or quarterly? (Monthly, as a rule.) 3. I should like to know if your readers know anything of some people who are constantly advertising for ladies to undertake home needlework. I have answered several, and find that the usual mode of procedure is to send a printed circular, offering to send materials for a sample yard of bugle lace trimming in return for so many stamps, varying from thirteen to eighteen. They agree to inspect the work when completed, remit stamps to value, and if the work is up to their standard, to supply constant employment. In one instance, I sent eighteen stamps, and sent home the yard of lace, which, I may mention, occupies from two to three days, working about ten hours a day. They acknowledged that the work was very good, and actually offered me the handsome sum of eightpence. Of course I preferred keeping my work. They went on to say that for work equal to sample, they would pay 8s. per dozen yards, the worker to find her own materials -net, 1s a dozen; bugles, 1s a lb, which would bring down the price of the work to 6d. per yard, and a worker would at this rate earn from 2s to 3s per week. Now, is it possible that anyone would work for that, taking into consideration that the work is extremely trying to the eyesight, and often makes one suffer from bad headaches, so that it would be almost impossible to continue at it for any length of time. And yet these people keep on advertising, evidently they find it pay. I daresay there are hundreds like myself, who send for the sample yard, and then give it up in disgust. Of course, a yard of net, a few bugles, and pattern, is not worth more than a few pence. I wish some of your readers would state their experience, for it is quite time these things were stopped. It seems so cruel in these days when so many are seeking for employment, and perhaps some people would send their last shilling, only to be disappointed. (Your letter came too late for reply in our May Number, I sincerely wish we could stop these people who thrive on the needs and distress of friendless women.)

Taken from Sylvia's Journal, Our Drawing Room, June, 1886.

Where Women are Never Loved

2009-03-08T01:34:00.001-08:00

Mrs. Archibald Little, the well-known traveller, records some interesting impressions of China. She says:- "In China women are held in the greatest contempt. A Chinaman habitually alludes to his better half as 'my wretched thorn,' and except in the poorest circles the wife never sits down to meals with her husband. Women are completely ignored. When a Chinese mandarin calls on my husband, he pretends not to see me. I may be sitting within a couple of yards of him, but he will still affect to be unconscious of my presence. The Chinese don't make love. Marriages are conducted through agents. As a rule a Chinaman never sees his wife until the wedding ceremony, when she unveils in his presence for the first time."
The Young Woman February 1900.

How to Win the Boys

2009-03-05T00:43:00.000-08:00

Light bright fires in the home at night. Illuminate your rooms. Hang pictures upon your walls. Put books and magazines and newspapers upon your tables. Have music and entertaining games. Invent occupations for your sons. Simulate their ambitions in worthy directions. While you make home their delight, fill them with higher purposes than mere pleasure. Whether they shall pass boyhood and enter upon manhood with high tastes and noble ambitions depends on you. With exertion and right means, a mother may have more control over the destiny of her boys than any other influence whatever.
Home Words, 1894

Our Drawing Room

2009-03-04T00:42:00.000-08:00

Two correspondents, who write very badly - in blue ink - and if possible spell still worse, address us on the subject of matrimony. They want to make the leap through the golden hoop, and consider that if their wishes were made known in the "drawing-room," there would be no difficulty about it. We decline to have anything to do with it; and we advise both young ladies to improve their education, and to try to exercise some share of modesty and good sense.
Taken from the regular feature "Our Drawing Room" where correspondents queries are answered. The Young Englishwoman, January, 1867.

Society Small Talk

2009-03-02T00:39:00.000-08:00

One of the incidents at a huge charity bazaar, held at the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg, was the winning of a valuable prize in a gigantic raffle. The children of all the schools in the capital were presented with a ticket, and one of the poorest amongst them drew a valuable picture by a French artist, Bertier. The Czar himself bought the little one's possession for 20,000 francs; so that she is now a lucky heiress, and has good reason to remember with pleasure the "Good Czarina's" Bazaar.
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Miss Lillian Hamilton, an Englishwoman, has been appointed chief physician of the Emir of Afghanistan.
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Collectors of Napoleonic relics will soon have a unique opportunity of adding to their treasures, provided their purses be sufficiently long to enable them to bid successfully. Amongst the selection of furniture belonging to the late Cardinal Bonaparte, which is to be put up to auction by his executor, the throne of Napoleon I. will be under the hammer, together with the writing table which he used at St. Helena, and a very beautiful miniature of the Empress Josephine. There will be other pictures also belonging to the Bonaparte family.
Home Chat May 2, 1896.

A New Food-Preserver

2009-02-27T02:09:00.000-08:00

Professor Barff has discovered a new antiseptic for preserving flesh and other fresh foods liable to decay. It is well known that boracic acid is an excellent preserver, but it has the draw back of not being easily soluble in water, and hence is difficult to apply in a liquid state to the purpose in question. Professor Barff has, however found a promising solvent in glycerine, and the mixture of these two substances, or "boro-glyceride" as it is called, is the antiseptic discovered. A quart of cream treated with an ounce of boro-glyceride keeps quite good even in the hottest weather, and a quantity of it has been sent to Zanzibar though the furnace of the Red Sea without impairing its sweet qualities. Fresh fruit, guavas, tamarinds, green sugar-cane, as well as raw turtle and pigeon , were sent from Jamaica preserved in the fluid, and proved to be good and wholesome, retaining still their characteristic flavours. Professor Barff proposes to save railway carriage on milk by condensing it in the country and mixing it with boro-bloyceride, so that it has only to be mixed with water when required for use. The meat now wasted on the South American plains could also be preserved for transport to the coast and the European markets. Beef-tea, raw beef juice, which is recommended by medical men for some conditions of the digestive system, soups, and other delicacies can be preserved for any length of time by the new substance. When introduced into liquids capable of fermentation it prevents the process, unless the latter has already begun, when it only exercises a moderating influence.

Professor Barff is also the inventor of the plan for coating iron with a rustless skin of oxide of iron, and we may add here that frying pans, saucepans, and other vessels usually made of copper, are now made of iron treated by the Bower-Barff process of preventing rust, and found very convenient. In working this process it has been found that the cost of enamelling the iron with the magnetic oxide forming the rustless coating is much reduced by first oxidising the articles before enamelling them. Further, it has been discovered that a skin or bloom of all the more ornamental metals can be given to the grey surface of the rustless coating, by simply brushing it over with a wire brush of the metal required to be deposited, whether bronze, brass, copper, silver, nickel, or gold. The particles of the brush rubbed off by friction fill up the pores of the coating, and by slightly heating the article they are fixed there.
Cassell's Family Magazine 1883.

Things Wives Write in 1917

2009-02-25T01:09:00.000-08:00

But you must have it taken, dear. It'll be something for the boy to show in after years - a father in the Great War.
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Whoever thought you'd be a soldier? I shall never forget the first day I saw you in khaki!
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I aired your overcoat today - I doubt if it will fit you when you come home!
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I never closed my eyes that night I got your letter saying you were booked for next draft.
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It's silly, I know, but I always dread to open the papers in the morning.
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Tom always adds to his prayers, "And please, God, let daddy bring home a German helmet!"
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Home Chat magazine. March 24, 1917. (Not strictly Victorian women... but I felt it should be included).

Royalty on Active Service

2009-02-24T01:18:00.000-08:00

Not the first, but certainly the first famous royalty who went out in person at the head of her troops to fight England's battles, is Queen Boadicea. Hence her place of honour at the head of this article.

Today kings and queens have practically ceased from leading their armies into the fray, the last of the fighting sovereigns being the great Napoleon. Of course, the Emperor William I. of Germany, and Napoleon III. accompanied their respective armies in the Franco-Prussian war, but less as commanders than mere spectators; and equally, of course, the present Emperor William may do the same thing, should Germany go to war again, though I very much doubt whether he would be content to remain a mere spectator - a role that scarcely seems to fit his character.

But if the supreme head of the state is no longer a fighting man, the royal families of Europe, and especially the royal family of England, have all through the present century given their countries brave and capable warriors.

It was in the wars directly following on the French Revolution and before the rise of Buonaparte, that the Duke of York, the Queen's uncle, especially distinguished himself. The Republican armies were already superbly successful in all parts of Europe. But at the Troisville Redoubts, near Cambray, on the Belgian frontier, they met one of their severest repulses, the opposing hosts being commanded by the Duke of York, who, during the engagement, showed remarkable personal bravery.

The Duke of Kent, the Queen's father, and brother to the Duke of York, was a famous warrior in his day, courageous to a degree, and noted for the severity with which he maintained military discipline. he saw active service on more than one occasion, but especially distinguished himself in the expedition under Sir Charles Grey, against the French in the West India Islands. The impetuous bravery with which he led the flank division against certain important posts, in Martinique, became a by-word in the army.

The Crimean war saw no less than three members of royal houses at the front - the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of Saxe Weimar, and Prince Napoleon Buonaparte. The first success of that terrible and misguided war - the Battle of Alma - saw all three actively engaged. The Duke of Cambridge did splendid work in the famous storming of the great redoubt. At a critical stage of the battle he and Sir Colin Campbell received orders to take this difficult position. Success meant victory; failure spelt defeat. The Guards and Highlanders advanced in splendid order, and cheered by their commanders dashed up the slopes reckless of shot and shell. They encountered the Russians, muzzle to muzzle; scaled the redoubt; and, driving all before them, won for England one of the most splendid of her victories.

By Reginald Maingay for The Royal Magazine December 1899

Answers to Correspondents

2009-02-22T00:17:00.000-08:00

Helena Taylor, it really is impossible to say what is the best material for cleaning teeth, so much depends upon the state of the teeth and the bodily health of different persons: but all teeth, we think, may be safely kept clean with simple white curd soap. Your handwriting is pretty, but not sufficiently firm. Bessie, Vol. I. of the Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine can be had complete with Fashion Plates, price 5s. Vol. II. is also ready. The covers for binding Vols I. and II. with Index and Title-page, can be had, post free for 1s; the Index separately for 2d. Fanny is informed that moles are rarely removed by any process; but freckles may be eradicated. A good wash for the purpose may be made as follows:- Take one drachm of muriatic acid, half a pint of rain-water, half a teaspoonful of spirits of lavender. Mix, and apply two or three times a day to the freckles with a bit of linen, or a camel-hair pencil. Sixpence in postage-stamps has been received from Blandford, with one of our printed forms, ordering the Double Number of the Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine for May but with no address. There are no publishers in London more lavish of advertisements than ourselves, and yet we are, day by day, receiving 6d. for a 1s book, and orders - to be executed "by return of post" - without any clue whither they are to go. Dinah Harris. Mrs Wilcockson. Goodge-Street, Tottenham-court-road, sells silk for embroidering shawls.- Harry. Those "horrid little insects" you speak of may be kept under, as housewives say, by ceaseless cleaning; but the only effectual way to destroy them all, your house being very old, is to destroy the house.
The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine, September, 1861.

Our Sisters Across the Sea

2009-02-21T09:27:00.000-08:00

Miss Jessie Harlan Lincoln, the daughter of Robert T. Lincoln, United States Minister to Great Britain, has entered the Iowa Wesleyan University, and will take the classical course.

The answer to the question why many young women prefer to lead single lives of loneliness, is perhaps to be found in a statistical report from Chicago, where, it is said, 20,000 husbands are supported by their wives.

Permission has been given to Miss Ray Beveridge, of San Francisco, to set up and operate a miniature blacksmith's forge in the California Building at the Chicago World's Fair. Miss Beveridge is a niece of Ex-Governor Beveridge of Illinois, and is said to be an expert at the anvil.

Miss Homans, the accomplished Director of the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics, speaks encouragingly of the progress of dress-reform in Boston: "Two years ago, out of a class of thirty seven, there were but two of the young women at the end of the school year who continued to wear corsets, and no one continued to wear French heels. Last year, out of a class of seventy one, seven eighths gave up wearing corsets." Which shows that Boston girls are made of sensible stuff. It is a reform in the right direction, and one which we hope has come to stay - but, of corsets not a subject which can properly be discussed by
Brother Jonathan, Junior.
Taken from The Young Woman, December 1892.

Tight Lacing

2009-02-20T02:33:00.000-08:00

Now, I am far from wishing to encourage tight-lacing, but if girls and women will practise it I should like to point out how it may be done with the least possible injury to the organs of the body. But I must repeat that in doing this it is under protest against tightening the stay-lace at all. However, girls (and women) will tight-lace, no matter what strength of protest is made, and it is better for them to do it in the least injurious way, if possible. Therefore I offer the following advice:-

Instead of one long stay-lace, three shorter ones should be used. The top one should be carried down to a depth of about five eyelet holes, and there should be a bountiful provision of the lace left here, in order to give abundant breathing room to the lungs, permitting the chest to expand to the fullest, and allowing long, deep breaths to be drawn without that peculiar catch which denotes injurious tightness. There need be no exaggerated looseness, but only sufficient to afford perfect freedom from pressure. Instead of spoiling the look of the figure, this actually improves it.

The second lace should fill the eyelet holes below the first one down to the waist line, and should end there. It is sometimes, even, advisable to leave an eyelet hole on either side free from lacing, between the first and second stay-lace. But the object of the whole arrangement is to enable the second one to be drawn tight without squeezing in the upper part of the figure in the least. And the third lace, in the same way, enables the wearer to avoid pressure on the hips, where it is highly injurious to some of the internal organs.

Of course, this is all unnecessary when funds are available to command a well-made corset from a trained physiologist, as are all really good corsetiers, who fit the figure with exactest skill, and, without squeezing or tightening, give it a graceful outline. But with the cheap, ready-made article the above advice will, I believe, be found really useful.

I should like again to repeat that I wholly disapprove - but, no. I have said enough.
from How to be Pretty though Plain by Mrs Humphry "Madge" of "Truth" author of "Manners for Men" (this publication is not dated, though the cover bears an illustration that puts it mid 1890's)

Notice to Correspondents and Subscribers Generally

2009-02-19T01:00:00.000-08:00

As our correspondence has greatly increased with the increased popularity of our Journal, we purpose from this date to answer questions of immediate importance by post within a few days of their receipt. A stamped, addressed envelope must be forwarded for the reply, and in no case shall we answer in envelopes addressed to be left at a post-office. Our subscribers must not expect us to reply by post to questions that are not of urgent importance.

Adelia Susanna - The egg should be well beaten in a saucer before being used.
Perticia - 1. Either glycerine or honey soap are very good toilet soaps. 2. In no. 665, in the articles on "Women's Domestic, Useful, and Lucrative Employments," you will see there is a school of telegraphy in Osnaburgh Street, Regent's Park. Notices of vacancies for pupils are advertised in the daily papers.
Theo's Darling- 1. As you say you have met the gentleman frequently, and have spoken to him, it would certainly be wanting in politeness to pass him in the street without a bow of recognition. 2. It is not necessary to wash the head. If you are afraid of taking cold, brush the hair night and morning with a brush dipped into cold water; it will strengthen it, and prevent its falling off. 3. If the toothache arises from decayed teeth nothing will permanently cure it but having the tooth extracted. Temporary relief may be obtained by soaking a piece of brown paper in whisky, and sprinkling it with cayenne pepper, and applying it to the face; it draws out the cold, and leaves no mark on the skin.
White Blossoms - We have heard that the following recipe will remove moles: Bichloride of mercury 5 grains, hydrocholic acid thirty drops, lump sugar 1 oz; agitate together until the whole is dissolved; apply with the finger every night and morning.
Margaret M - 1. Many of the best West End business houses will not take young ladies as apprentices. We do not know if the firm you mention take them: if you write they would, of course, reply. 2. We cannot tell you the premium likely to be required, as it varies in different houses.
Marguerita - 1. We do not know the qualities of the medicine you mention. 2. Castile soap is considered very good for the skin; it is not expensive, and is usually sold by chemists. 3. Briggs' tracing paper can only be used once. 4. Nine yards of cashmere would make a handsome morning robe. 5. We never heard of the chemical you mention being used for improving the texture of the skin, and should judge it would be rather injurious than otherwise. Fuller's earth is of a very healing nature, and if applied in a rather thick paste, and allowed to remain on the skin until it is dry, it certainly gives a soft appearance to the skin. 6. Serges are advertised from 61/2 yer yard. You could get a really useful one for 2s. 3d or 2s 6d. per yard. 7. You could get alcohol for the purpose you need of a chemist. 8. 1/4oz gum tragacanth, dissolved in a pint of rose-water, will make a very nice mixture for the purpose; if your hair is rather stiff, use a little less gum, or a little more rose-water.
The Young Ladies' Journal, 1877.

The Queen

2009-02-18T01:02:00.000-08:00

On May 24th the Queen will be older than any monarch who has reigned in England, except only her grandfather, King George III. Let us hope that she will be mercifully spared to us in health and strength for many more years, and that the nonsense discussed in some circles as to the possibility of her abdicating in favour of the Prince of Wales will long remain amongst the impossibilities.

Pensions to old retainers are becoming less and less frequent in these days, when noble families have so many calls upon them, and the deterioration of landed property has lowered so many incomes. It is interesting to know that one of the acts of Her Majesty the Queen, after the first grief had passed on hearing of the death of the late Prince Henry of Battenberg was to summon the personal servants of the Prince and assure them herself that his death should make no difference in their emoluments and position. Occupation should be found for them in the Royal Household in some way as if the Prince had lived to return and need their services.
Home Chat magazine, May 2nd 1896.

The Care of the Insane

2009-02-17T01:12:00.000-08:00

I have frequently noticed that a look of intense sadness distinguishes those who have much to do with the insane - doctors, clergymen, women attendants cannot throw off in a moment the gloom caused by constant communication with those deprived of the light of intellect.

"It is not because of the monotony, for the life has much variation." Said a lady friend to me, who has been superintendent at a large asylum in the country, "but it depresses one from the helplessness one feels as to doing real good. We can house them, and feed them, and keep them occupied, but we cannot restore that which is lost for ever. However, such a state of mind is only a reaction, for when at your post, I assure you, there is more to make a person laugh than cry. Their delusions are so odd, and take such unexpected turns. And remember, except on one point, many are as sane as you or I. Indeed, this curious fact often caused a difficulty with my subordinates. Many a wardroom maid has come to me with a long tale of the cruelty of keeping Miss S or Mrs. B who had 'more sense than most people outside,' and if I didn't watch sharply, her sympathies would inevitably lead her to infringe discipline, in some way, either by smuggling up food, or posting letters, or bringing in literature which excited the patent's nerves. I used often to wish that school could be formed for those who intend to take service in any capacity where the insane are under treatment, in which they might learn first a little of lunatics and their ways. So many attendants come to us expecting to find howling, drivelling maniacs, and when they only see quiet, hard-working individuals, they immediately form the idea we are keeping them under lock and key for our own pleasure, and easily fall victims to the patients' cunning.

I recollect a case where a patient with a taste for reading was always bemoaning the dead sameness of our literature, and actually induced an attendant to procure her penny novelettes. The constant repetition of suicides haunted her brain, and, though up till then gentle and manageable, she became possessed with the suicidal mania, and after four fruitless attempts succeeded at last in wilfully choking herself with the stuffing of a mattress."

Taken from a series entitled Behind Bars II The Care of the Insane - The Young Woman November 1899.

The Real American Girl

2009-02-16T00:59:00.000-08:00

"The truest, best, and sweetest type of the American girl of to-day does not come from the home of wealth; she steps out from a home where exist comforts rather than luxuries," writes Edward W. Bok, the editor of the Ladies' Home Journal. "She belongs to the great middle class - that class which has given us the best American wifehood; which has given helpmates to the foremost American men of our time; which teaches its daughters the true meaning of love; which teaches the manners of the drawing-room, but the practical life of the kitchen as well; which teaches its girls the responsibilities of wifehood and the greatness of motherhood.

These girls may not ride in their carriages, they may not wear the most expensive gowns, they may even help a little to enlarge the family income, but these self-same girls are to-day the great bulwark of American society, not only present, but of the future. They represent the American home and what is best and truest in sweet domestic life, and they make the best wives for our American men. I have no patience with the theories that would seek to place the average American girl in any other position than that which she occupies, ornaments, and rightfully holds: the foremost place in our respect, our admiration, and our love. She is not the society girl of the day, and she is better for it. She believes no woman to be so sweet as her mother; no man so good as her father. She believes that there are good women and true men abroad in the world, and thank God, her belief is right. And that man will ever be happiest who takes such a girl for his wife."
The Young Woman, 1893.

In Captivity

2009-02-15T01:43:00.000-08:00

Fast bound in Love's sweet Chains am I,

Yet not a king so free;

O may I fettered live and die

A captive, Love, to thee!

I would not, if I might, arise

So dear my bonds have grown,

For in thine eyes my kingdom lies,

And there I reign alone!

Oh, Love! In all the world's wide space

My one desire art thou;

I would not change they soft embrace

For sceptred freedom now;

and night or day I only pray

Thy captive still to be,

and ever in thy heart to stay

In such sweet slavery!

M. J. Farrah

from The Royal Magazine -February, 1900.

Hints for Housewives

2009-02-14T01:32:00.000-08:00

Tablecloths and Serviettes ought to be slightly starched; this will make them last clean and retain their fresh appearance for a much longer time.
Add a little Borax to the water in which sateen or any cotton material is rinsed, it will help to retain the shiny glossy appearance.
When the Bread Trencher is a bad colour, try scouring it with rough salt or sand and water. Leave it until dry. Care should be taken that no butter gets on the trencher, for grease marks are very unsightly; if ordinary cleaning does not remove them, a paste made of fuller's e-earth and cold water should be spread on; this will absorb the grease from the wood.
To Prepare a Floor for a Dance, it should be swept and scrubbed, and then, when dry, well sprinkled with powdered boracic acid, which should be rubbed in thoroughly. The children of the house may with advantage be allowed to dance on it, or to slide up and down, for nothing polishes a floor better than a few pairs of active feet.
The 'Isobel' Handbooks No 12. Things a Woman Wants to Know

Coiffure Maintenon and Hair Appendages from Mr. Douglas's, New Bond Street London W.

2009-02-13T01:37:00.000-08:00

Formerly a little repugnance was felt in making use of false hair, when more simple coiffures were in vogue; now this is no longer the case, when on account of the voluminous nature of dress generally, elaborate headdresses are absolutely necessary. Bows of hair, curls of every shape and length, and plaits are purchased to form a portion of the headdress, just as our grandmothers purchased flowers or ribbons; and ladies now think no more of their false plaits than their progenitors of their ribbons and flowers; for the moderns do not pretend to make people think that the rich, handsome plaits and curls which ornament their heads are their own hair, more than the ancients wished to persuade others that the flowers they were grew on the head they adorned. And there is a substratum of common-sense at the bottom of this arrangement. If a lady happens to have a really good head of hair, it is a pity to cut, frizz, and crimp it, when by a small outlay she may obtain something to wear which will preserve her own beautiful locks. Of course we are now speaking of our friends who insist on being in the fashion, and are suggesting a few remarks to them.
Domestic Magazine Supplements - January, 1863

Court News

2009-02-12T01:33:00.000-08:00

Buckingham Palace - The Royal West Pennard cheese was brought to Buckingham Palace last Friday for presentation to the Queen. Her majesty saw the cheese privately, and was graciously pleased to express her approbation. His Royal Highness Prince Albert received the deputation by whom it was brought, at one o'clock, and expressed himself much pleased and gratified with the present.

We understand that the Lord Steward of Her Majesty's Household has it in command to express to the parties by whom the cheese was sent, Her Majesty's gratification at the present.
Blackwood Lady's Magazine - March 1841.

Dressmaking at Home

2009-02-11T00:32:00.000-08:00

No doubt at many of the seaside towns where my readers are taking their holidays, bathing is the event of the morning. Apart from the hygienic point of view, I look upon bathing as one of the most healthy amusements a girl can have. It is certainly part of her education, so pleasant a part that it may be carried on during the holidays. Let each girl have her own bathing dress, and let it be either of bunting, the delights of which I spoke in these columns a few weeks ago, or else of light coloured cotton material. Avoid white, for it does not look well in the water. Instead, choose any bright colour which suits the wearer. Yellow bathing dresses are exceedingly becoming to brunettes, but no doubt, "Mother Eve" is so fully developed in girls of the present time, that they will not require any advice from me on what suits them.

One word before I close. I would remind you that a pattern of a bathing dress for a girl (no. 785, which appeared in the June number of Fashions for Children) can still be had from this office, price 61/2d, post free.

Home Notes, August 24, 1895.

What to wear on a bicycle

2009-02-10T00:53:00.000-08:00

Coventry Rotary writes - Dear Sylvia, In answer to Brownie's question in the March number of Sylvia's Home Journal, I wish to say, that I have ridden both on single and double tricycles, and was at first equally perplexed with herself as to the most suitable dress to wear. I should recommend her to wear a perfectly plain skirt with a pair of the Dress Reform Association trousers beneath. I sent to Mrs King for a pattern of tricycling suit, and she forwarded me a pattern of trousers, skirt and bodice. The skirt is made with a loose front, and to that there is this objection - it blows up. I should in future make a perfectly plain skirt. I found the trousers, however, very comfortable, and should always wear them. I wear one petticoat, open in front, half way up, to allow the knees free play, and find it quite sufficient with the deep flannel band to which the trousers are buttoned.

Of course, in a large town where there are so many rough people, one has to get accustomed to such remarks as "look at her trousers", but I think that is better than "Look at her ankles." They are very comfortable, and with a plain all round skirt, I don't think they would show at all, for mine were only noticeable by reason of the loose front. I sewed it down eventually and then it was all right.
Sylvia's Home Journal, April 1886.

Proposals

2009-02-09T00:49:00.000-08:00

Your letter "Jessie" (Woodlands), is quite right in its tone and sentiments. It is considered very bad form for a woman, generally speaking, to allow a man to propose whom she has no intention or idea of accepting. As you say, she can, in most cases, let him see beforehand that such a proposal would not meet with her approval, and, as a rule, a man will not persist further. To encourage proposals merely to boast of having had so many is, as you justly remark, both heartless and wrong.
Editorial Chit Chat - Home Chat Magazine, May 30, 1896.

The Electric Light in Trains

2009-02-08T02:01:00.000-08:00

The new Pullman express running from London to Brighton, which is said to be the best-equipped train in the world, has been fitted with Edison's incandescent electric lights, fed with electricity from the accumulators or electric reservoirs of M. Faure. The train consists of four Pullman cars, each 58 feet in length, and providing a continuous passage from end to end of 232 feet. That next the engine is a parlour car, and is divided into three compartments having seats and tables, lavatory and dressing-room. The second carriage is furnished like a drawing-room, and has at one end a ladies' boudoir, and at the other a storeroom and locker. It is reserved for ladies travelling alone or accompanied by gentlemen. The third car is for refreshments, and the fourth is for smoking in. Parts of the latter car contains the baggage and the eighty Faure accumulators charged with electricity. The ventilation is effected by louvre windows in the roof, and the furnishings are of walnut and deep red Utrecht velvet. Each palace car is lighted by five pairs of incandescent lamps suspended with their reflectors from the ceiling, and the smoking car is lighted by five single lights in the same manner. During the passage of the train through tunnels these lights are flashed on. Electric bells are placed in all the carriages to call the attention of the refreshment bar. Along the floor there is a continual circulation of heat by means of hot-water pipes, and thermo-meters, barometers and clocks are placed in the carriages. To make the train complete, a newspaper stand and letter-box are provided for the convenience of passengers.
Cassell's Magazine February, 1883.

The Evils of "Sweating"

2009-02-07T02:12:00.000-08:00

In these days when one hears so much of the evils of "sweating", the question naturally occurs to a thoughtful woman: "What am I individually doing as regards this evil?"

No tender-hearted woman can hear without pain of the cruelly insufficient payment that is often given to poor women for the cheap clothing they make. Do they bear this knowledge in mind when they go out shopping and resolve that they will, if possible only deal with those firms which pay a fair wage for honest labour?

Those who buy are to some extent responsible for the sweating of the poor workers, and I think that if people would only realise this, they would not be so keen as many are now for cheap things. Remember, this terrible cheapness sometimes means starvation wages. For myself, I must say that I like the old fashioned way of having things made for me, instead of buying them ready-made, for them, at any rate, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I am not taking anyone's work without giving proper payment for it.
Excerpt from regular feature entitled 'Fireside Talks' in Home Notes - February 16 1895.

How to be Happy though Single

2009-02-06T04:37:00.000-08:00

By the author of "How to be Happy though Married", "The Five Talents of Woman," etc.

Two bachelor maids, as they loved to call themselves, shared a flat for nearly three years. Each had a latchkey and did what she liked. Every day they told each other that they would never surrender to the tyranny of man, but one of them being pretty did at last fall into the arms of a husband.

The other abused the deserter, and was thus answered - "Women may grow newer and newer, but they will never be so new as to really despise the old, old story; and no woman sits long among the scorners of men who feels by anticipation little children tugging at her skirts. Now, dear, take my advice: marry whenever you can, for there is not enough of work, or fame, or fortune in this world to fill the void in a woman's heart when she is forty and stands alone.
Home Chat Magazine - 1895

The Tragedy of Fashion

2009-02-03T10:50:00.000-08:00

Unhappily, though the truth about these things has been declared persistently for many years past, the fashion in feathers is more cruel to-day than ever. Never was there such an enormous demand for plumes as last year in London. The slaughter of bird life is becoming appalling. In Venezuela alone, more than two million birds were killed last year, and one London dealer admitted a dozen years ago, when the trade was not nearly so flourishing as it is now, that he sold two millions of small birds in twelve months.

Three recent consignments to London included 10,000 birds of paradise, nearly 800 packages of osprey feathers, 6,700 crested pigeons, 5,500 Impeyan pheasants, 500 bird skins, 270 cases of peacocks' feathers, 1,500 Argus pheasants, and 500 various small birds. Fifty thousand ounces of white egret feathers were sold at auctions in London last year. The figures should bring a blush to the cheeks of every gentlewoman. Six egrets must be killed for every ounce of this feather, so that the number of adult birds killed for those feathers was 900,000. That, however, takes no note of the young birds which perished of hunger and neglect. This would bring the number up to at least a million, so that we find that the feathers sold in London alone to deck the hats of the women of "Christian" England involved the torture and death of a million beautiful birds!

Excerpt taken from The Young Woman Illustrated Monthly Magazine - July 1900