Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

29 articles on this Page

I "JUST AS I AM."

News
Cite
Share

I "JUST AS I AM." BY MISS BRADDON. — + 8HAPTER XVIII.—A LINK IN THE CHAIN OF THE PAST. Holbrook farm, with its grey olrl homestead, on the Blackford-road, belonged to the Blatchmar- 0s&n estate, which would have been a fine pro- perty had it not been encumbered with the mort- ifcgBs of a spendthrift race, The farmhouse, on j^pbis bright wintry day, had that air ot unearthly ,<r*iet which such places are apt to wear in the •arty afternoon. Morton led his charge in at the wide gateway, ttad round the gravelled sweep to the moss-grown bid porch. Tuere was an old-fashioned garden in jfront of the house, more useful than ornamental, ana in the rear there were barns and rickyards which dwarfed the low and irregular homestead. On one side spread level pastures, on the other there W;1S an orchard, bounded by a ploughed field. Everything had a look of utter btillness and repose. The sound of the horses' hoofs plish- Eashing on the soft road seemed almost a startling fcerruption of the all-pervadingpeace. The place looks as if there w is not a living creature within call," said Morton "but I sup- Eose we shall unearth somebody if we try very aid." He pulled an iron ring v hich hung from a rusty chain in the porch, and far away at the back of the premises there sounded the cling-clang of a hoarse and feeble bell, After waiting two or three minutes he ie; eatedthis operation, but with- out any effect whatever. So he bethought himself thathis own lungs might be stronger than the de- Wepid old bell, and he gave a stentorian shout of i •* House This set a bass dog and a tenor dog barking in an excited duet, which momentarily IncreaKed in vehemence, whereupon came the Bound of pattens clicking along a stone passage, and the door was opened by a ruddy-cheeked, plump, wholesome female, smelling of t'o dairy. Did you please to ring, sir?" she inquired, ad then seeing Lady Francis on the horse, she ex- claimed, Lord bless us and keep us, if it isn t my lord's daughter, looking as white as a curd. "Yes it is I, Mrs Dawley," ans vered Frances, Flipping off her masontino saddle and alighting on Hie gravel path, where Morton supported her Jrith one arm while he held the somewhat fidgetty horse with the other. "I've had something in the Otayoi a fall, as you may see from the state of my habit. I've come to ask for your hospitality Until the carriage from iilatchmardean fetches live," "Lor, my lady. you're free and welcome to all this house holds. You must have some dry clothes nrsfc thing, if you'll be so kind as to sten upstairs with me. My gowns won't fit you, my lady, but Mry things are better than wet things any day. Lady Frances hesitated, and looked down, at her ^"Do you think it matters?" she wked. "I've had a ducking before to-day, and I daresay the Carriage will be here in half an hour. My dear Fanny, don't be foolish expostu- lated Morton. Unless you have an ardent desire for an attack of pleurisy or rheumatic fever, f ou'd better accept this good woman a offer. "My clothes are homely, my lady, bat they're dfean, said Mrs Dawley. •* My good soul, do you suppose I don t know ayaf 'vvell, if you don't mind the trouble of lend- ing'me a gown, I suppose I'd better get off this Wet hatit. I begin to feel rather shivery." "jPhorite," called the matron, whereat a red- haired damsel, with bare arms and tucked up gfown, issued from the back premises. "Just set ja light to the fire in the best parlour, and put the setfie on in the kitchen. Perhaps you'll be so jgood as to step into the parlour, sir, while my lady changes her clothes. »»■ *4 With pleasure," answered Morton, "if you'll fcindly allow somebody to take Care of my horse Phoebe, just you run and call Bill to take the •entleman's horse round to the stable." € Mrs Dawley opened the door of a la<rge, low fcting-room, and ushered in Morton, having S' lready made up her mind that he was L&dy "ranees Grange's "young man." Had he not stalled her his dear Fanny, and assumed a tone of I authority which no ordinary acquaintance would Venture to use towards an earl's daughter. Upstairs in the lavender-scented dimity-cur- Joined bedroom Frances tnade her hasty toilet, laughing a good deal the while at the absurdity of the situation, though she was still so weak and J Jiddy that it was as much as she could do to jltaud without Mrs Dawley's help. With the aid M that hospitable matron she contrived to array jherself in a starched white petticoat, and gaudy jfafittted-flannel morning gown, which Mrs Dawley Informed her had been her sitting-up dress after mo birth of her last baby. # V Dawley saw the stuff at the draper's in IDgh- tfere on market day, and took a fancy to it because 'it was a cheerful pattern," she explained. ¥ &ady Frances smiled at the image in the glass, wr pallid face made whiter by the orange, and Itue, and red in the cheerful-patterned dressing •Own. There Was a taasled girdle with whioh she was able to tie the voluminous folds round her won waist, Pit have your habit dried and brushed by the 1 fate you want to go home, my lady, so yon eedn't be afraid of having to go back to your Pa poking an object," said the farmer's wife, "and kow your ladyship must have some refreshment, Dmething warm and comforting. I should say low that the best thing you could take would be < lalf a tumbler of brandy and water, hot, sweet, md strong." My dear soul, not for the world." A glass of sherry wine negus, then 1" Please, if I am to have anything, let it be a Jfcip of tea." w*' Of course, my lady, if your ladyship likes. Will you come down to the sitting-room, and rest jbit on the sofa, or would you like to lie down on jbq spare bed and take a little nap ?* f m No, thank you, Mrs Dawley, I feel too ex- ited to sleep, I'm so vexed at having lost the run. »think I'd better go down stairs and tell Mr Siiake that he needn't stay. There's not the least aeed for him to stop now that I am in such com- rtable quarters." 55 Lor, my lady, he'll stop, you may be sure. e won't want to go away," said Mrs Dawley, pith a grin that was like a burst of sunshine. 1 Frances went slowly downstairs, holding the ptmnister-rail as she went, and feeling very faint Jpnd tottery. Morton was standing at the window, Booking out at the wide monotonous landscape. Where was a cheerful fire of turf and wood in the papacious old-fashioned grate. The farm nobse fcarlour, with its drab wainscot and gay chintz Surtains, bad a pleasant home-like aspect. Mrs jDawley eame bustling in with the tea-tray, and n tolay the table with a homespun cloth, on Shjoh she set forth her best tea-pot, her old Staffordshire cups and saucers, a home-made loaf. dish of golden-tinted butter, and a substantial jpDt-and-come-again plum cake. r Now, Morton, I want you to go about your IÍnesa immediately," said Frances, settling her- melS in the roomy chintz-covered arm chair by the Mre," Mrs Dawley will take care of; me till the featfiage comes from Blatchmardean, If you ride tfleverly you may manage to fall in with -the "Tfoank, you Fanny, I know when I am well Wf replied Morton, smiling at her. "I am not jSoing to pound over half the country in a 'utile USodeavour to come up with the hounds. I bad foaph rather sit by this oomfortahte fire and enjoy Sdish of Mrs Dawley's tea. f The farmer's wife, busy with the arrangement -Of her tea-table, heard all the conversation, and e up her mind that Lady Frances's young man Iras all that a lover should be. "But it seems too absurd that you should Waste all your day in dancing attendance upon toe," sRid Frances, sipping her tea, when Mrs awley had replenished the bright wood nre, and t her visitors to themselves. I see nothing absurd in the matter, and it is ] rather advantageous to me. I have been oat of 'gear fdr my ordinary pursuits of late, haven't been able to 'frame' to anything, as the Lancashire iflolks say, and it is a relief to me to waste a few jfiours in cheerful society." ( Frances remembered the time when he had Went Che greatest part of his leisure in her com* matty and wondered if it Beemed strange to him flDrenew the old easy-going companionship, a* if » were a dropped thread in'the fabric of his life, Which be was trying to take up „ h Why do you never bring Dulcie to Mfe mlted "I am not able to invite her m ftomSEl way, for you know that tts face against all ceremonious lb* the simple reason that he can t afford them. me had to make our choice between fables and aeneral society: and, as we are all much fonder or OMes than of the ruck of our fellow creatures, we 088 stables. But so far as five o clock goes, I •m allowed to be as hospitable as I like; and I ieve Beville can always give his friends mpoQinatis or St Galmier. You might bring jDulcie to Blatchmardean now and then to waste iMI afternoon with me. I know that it is a dull, ijhabby old place." • ^"It is a dear old place," protested Morton, -^aome of the happiest hours of my life were spent You mUtt" D01l say "1.1. U Y èP, I must. Do you suppose a man does Mot know what happiness means until he falls in lore ? I may have_ found out another and more Intense happiness since those days, but why should (Xnbt admit that those days were very happy > Frances did not argue the point. She felt a nrious gladness at the idea that he had once aken pleasure in her company-that those idle tours at Blatchmardean had sweet^ to him hough, perhaps, not so sweet to him as they had ieento her nor' yet so dear to lcok back upon fee w.s silent for a little whde, watching the ►Urning wood as it blazed and reddened, and Srutnbled away into white ashes. It s.emed Jlmost an emblem of life and love^-a P^ionate wm—the deep red glow of feeling and •oldness and pallid ashes. "Do you remember how you used to lecture me those juvenile days of mine?" asked Frances Presently. M J am sure I deserved it, for (I know most have been an unmitigated hoyden." "If I did presume to lecture the process must five been beneficial, for I'm sure nobody could id fault with you now," said Morton, pmiling at as she lay back in her deep arm chair, with e pretty boyish head reclining against the chintz Cushion, Now, Morton, if you talk like that I shall ijnow that our friendship is at an end," she re- monstrated. If If I am to believe you retain the least vestige of your brotherly regard for your fiend's sister you must go on lecturing. Tiny jpefhf me you strongly disapprove of a woman fronting." Tiny takes my. particular objection for a axaneral one. Icertainly did object to the idea of ITiny riding Butterfly to the hounds, partly out of regard for the mare. and, perhaps—" ?L Be truthful, now, Morton, or you will sink frthoms deep in mv respect." C Perhaps a little because I think that a girl pho has not been, as it were, born in the hunting jeld, may as well keep out of it altogether. But jfor a girl who rides as you do, and who has been witought up as you have—" v" One-third in the nursery, and two-thirds in stable and and saddle-room. Yes, I under* Morton—for me it is different. I am out* »<* > the pale." j'To-.v y-Ti par Riicl) thingp, nny ?" „ iiov/ v u» i ihinkin^r tliorn, ai: wh" '<003 matter whether i.sav tliem of ieas\; cfh«un un- j said ? They- true, I mu; t ay the penalty for haying beeu brimght I,p with a brother for my omy companion—-loving the sports he loves— caiin? for none of ti e tilings that other girls care for—having few feminine vanities, and fewer virtues." "My dear F;uiny, you must know, in your heart of hearts, that you are charming, and that there are plenty of mes in the world who would rave about you ?'' "Yes, but they are just the kin 1 of men I should detest. I hope you don't suppose because I adore horses that I like horsey men. The quad- ruped is all; that is admirable; but I draw the line at the biped," "And no doubt you will have yonr reward. Some mnn « ho is the very reverse of horsey—who never jumped so much as a gully-some grave young senator, or enthusiastic scientist will fall over head and ears in love with my pretty Fanny, and wean her heart from stables and saddle room." When that bright particular star appears on my horizon I well let you know," answered Fanny. "If my poor Primus had broken his back to-day f don't think I should ever have hunted again," she went on musingly. "I never could have got over his death." Mrs Dawley came in with more logs and more turf to replenish the fire. She had changed her gown in honour of her visitor, and had put on a smart cap. I hope you are feeling better by this time, my lady," she said. I am feeling as well as ever I felt in my hfe, except that I am dreadfully savage with myselt for being out of what I know will be described to me as the very best run of the season. It always is when one isn't in it." "Lor, my lady, but you've had so many of em, one more or less can't count. You've got quite a pretty collection of foxes' tails hanging up iu your boodwower, ill be bound." "I never saw a fox's tail in my life, Mrs Daw- ley," answered Frances, gravely, "but when I was a child the huntsman gave me a brush or two. He left off doing so ages a?o, when the business began to get monotonous. Now, please, sit down, and make yourself at home in your own parlour, and let us have a chat." I'm sure I shall be too pleased, my lady, if I don't intrude." My dear soul, how can you intrude in your own parlour." "Circumstances alter cases, my lady, and I hope I know what's due to my lord's daughter." "If you are so ceremonious I shall think you have forgotten the days when Beville and I used to camp out on Ailsa Common, and used to come here for cream and eggs and butter for our gipsy tea." "I remember it all as well as if it was yester- day, my lady—two rare young pickles you was, begging your ladyship's pardon—regular young turks." "Ah, I se« you have not forgotten," said Frances., "Now do sit in that nice chair by the fire, and tell me all the news of the neighbour- hood. What is there going on just now—court- ships, marriages, deaths, and burials ?" Well, my lady, there aint much," replied Mrs Dawley smoothing her black silk apron, and seat- ing herself with ceremonious stiffness in the chair opposite Lady Fraocea, Morton having wheeled his own chair round to make room for her I did think we should have a funeral this side of Christmas, for Farmer Briarwood's asthma seemed as if it was coming to a head, but he do linger and linger, poor soul, and I should be surprised if he was to last till the March brewings. It's a dead- and-alive place this, my lady,*>neighbours few and far between, you see, and there aint much doing any time, except at harvest homes, and such like. The only thing folks have been talking about lately has been this trial for murder at Highclere." Frances was going to stop her, but Morton gave her a look and put his finger to hit lipa, as much, as to say let her go on. "iOh, your neighbours talk of the trial, do they," he said, 1D an enconraging tone. Yes, sir, they do. You see it's such a roman- x tic story altogether, a man giving himself up after twenty years. It's only natural folks should talk about it. My master was at the trial-he said you might have heard a pin drop, most especially when the lawyer waa questioning Sir Everard Courtenay, asking him questions about his poor dtjid wife, just as if he was the lowest day- labourer in the land, instead of one of the leading gentry. Them lawyers didn't ought to be allowed suoh licenM. Isay, It was a shame to bring Lady Courtenay s u«me into it, after she's been lying in her grave these twenty years.- t j0U/-iS^e^ y°-u a particular interest in .Lady Courtney," said Morton, intent upon the woman's every word. "Didyou know her!" No, air, I can't- say that I did; but I've seen her driving through Highclere on a market day when I used to go there to do my topping. She was the prettiest woman I ever saw in my life j but there Was something delicate, wh*t you might call vanishing like, about her, as mad. one think she wasn't long for this world. I used to hear a great deal about her years ago when I was a young woman, and when she was Miss Alice Bothney, for my father kept the shop in the viliage next Templewood, Lord George Rothney's seat, and my first cousin, Lucy Stevens, was in service there. She was own maid to the foar Miss Rothneya, and she had a pretty hard plaoe, for Lord George wasn't rich, and didn't keep any more cats thap could catch mice, I can tell you, my lady. Miss Alice was so fond of our Lucy that when she married Sir Everard Courtney nothing would do but Lucy must go abroad with her as her maid, and she was with till her the poor young lady's death, which happened, as you have heard, my lady, within a year of her marriage, and on the very night after Mr Blake's murder. Ah that was a black night for Austhorpe, and well might the ohurch bell be set tolling at midnight. I've heard Austhorpe people speak of it many a time. It was a clear, frosty night, and the bell ■ was heard for miles around, scaring the children and the old folks in their beds. There were some that woke up startled, thinking it was the end of the world, and the bell calling them to judg- ment I" Mrs.Dawley dwelt on these gloomy memories with a ghoulish gusto, as she sat blinking at the cheer- ful fire, and enjoying the unusual luxury of repofae in the middle of the afternoon. "Is your cousin still living ?" enquired Morton. Well, sir, she is, and when you've said that you've said all," returned Mrs Dawley, "for a weaker, sicklier, more fretful creature to be alive you could hardly find between here and London. And yet she was a bright, pretty-looking girl enough when she was at Templewood, But after Lady Courtney's death ahe took to wandering like, and went from place to place, a regular rolling stone, and then when she was thirty-three years of age, and aught to have knowe better, she took and married a young man in the musical line, and there they are starving genteelly in a back street at Avonmore. He keeps a music shop, and tunes pianos, when he can get any to tune, and plays the cornet at concerts and halls, and even circuses, when he can get employed and she does a little millinery, and between them might do pretty well, I daresay, if he wasn't wild and racketty in his ways, but as it is they just manage to keep the wolf from the door. My husband's very good. and lets me send poor Lucy a well-filled hamper once a quarter or 80; and I don't suppose they ever have a real good satisfying dinner except when they get one of my legs of pork and a pair of my barn-door fowls. "What is the musical gentleman's name?" asked Morton, as if with a polite 'desire to keep up the conversation. Frances had lapsed into a dreamy state, and sat looking idly at the fire. "His name is Green, sir. Charles Churchill Greên, though it's my private opinion that he haa no better right to call himself Churchill than I have to call myself Nebuchadnezzar," answered Mrs Dawley, bridling a little as she smoothed her apron "amd a precious deal he thinks of himself. As my husband says, in his witty way, you mierht turn a pretty penny if you could buy him at your price and sell him at his own. When he married our Lucy he pretended that his father was a gen- tleman of property in London; but JLucy found out afterwarda that his property was a livery-yard in Lambeth, and that he'd been bankrupt thiee times. The airs this Churchill gives himself, all on the strength of a slim figure, a small foot, and rather a pretty talent for musio. And such a flighty and flirty ^oung fellow, that poor Lucy's life has been a misery to her ever since she mar- ried him. But as my husband saysi in his deep, far-seeing way, 'as you make your bed so you must lie upon it,' "Does your cousin ever pay you a visit here r Well. no, she's never been since her marriage. First and foremost if she was to leave Green to his oWn devices for a week or two she'd be miserable all the time, taking it into her head that he was going to elope with a countess, or something of that kind, for she thinks there never was such a man as that blessed husband of hers, and that the highest ladies in Avonmore are ready to fall in love with him secondly because Dawley don't like doleful people, and poor Lucy has been all in the miaerables ever since she married. So you see as it's my first duty to please my husband 1 don t ask her though I daresay our fine country air and good living would freshen her up a bit. Ouce in a way when I've got a leisure day, and the gig- horse isn't wanted for the plough, I drive oyer to Avonmore and take a cup ot tea with her, and hear her talk over her troubles, and I know that does her good." « x)0n't you think the carriage ought to have been here by this time!" asked Frances, to whom the conversation had become somewhat uninterest- ing Brooks must have got to Blatchmardean an hour and a half ago, unless he absolutely crawled. I think I'd better put on my habit, Mrs Dawley, if it's nearly dry." "I'm afraid it won't be anything like drv yet awhile, my lady," said the farmer's wife, 4 tho 1 its hanging as near the kitchen fire as I could venture to put it." Perhaps your people will have the sense to send you over some clothes," said Morton. "Brooks knew you had been in the water." • And Brooks is a nice fatherly man.' Yes, I daresay they 11 send me some dry garments, and I can take my habit home in a bundle. An igno- minious close to an ignominious day; isn't it ?I' Morton?" "You can afford to end ignomimottsly for once in your life* You have had a long career of 'Rarrin honours, worthless laurels 1"exclaimed France? witb a .laagh that was half sad, half cynical. anrmd of carriage wheels as she There came the s « ^er deep chair to run spoke, and she sprang Ott* 01 UOi to the window. «ood old Yes, here is the brougham, and 8™ m Moulty, I declare; and now, Morton, y*. y Consider your duty at an end, so you can your horse and ride away. I hope you don t me for having caused you to waste a any, • I never spent a day less wastefully, answered Morton, gravely, "How solemn you look as you say that, vven, it is a very pretty compliment to Mrs Dawley and me, especially Mrs Dawley, for I'm sure fehe has done the best pait of the talking. Here comes Miss Moulton with a carpet-bag and now, if 1 may go up to your room once .more, Mrø Dawley, I'll get ready to go home. She ran out of the room, and almost tumbled into the arms of a stout, comfortable-looking, middle-aged woman, who had come to Blatch- mardean eleyen years ago, as Lady Frances Grange's governess, and who stayed there now as the girl's guide, philosopher, and friend. She had striven conscientiously to teach so long as Frances would consent to ba fcaozht s sto tad trwd to stock her pupil's mjud with the most soiid goods in the way of information; she had laboured assiduously to import languages, alia histories, and oloRie., but all her efforts in the teaching line had been futile, and Fanny had hardly learnt any- thing from her governess except a sincere respect and love for that worthy person. "You dear! how good of you to come! cried Frances. "Come upstairs, and I'll tell you my adventures while I change my gown. My darling, they told me you had been half ^Only ducked, Curly, dear; drowned is far too dignified a word." She had surnamed her governess Curly on the strength of two bunclies of old-fashioned ringlets which shaded Miss Maulton's plump cheeks. "Isn't the word a little vulgar?" Of course, dear. Haven't I a natural leaning that way?" asked Frances, gaily. Morton went out to look for his horse while Frances was dressing, and laving ordered that animal to be in readiness for him, he walked up and down the gravel path in front of the house, waiting to hand Lady Frances into her carriage before he rode off. He was impatient to be gone, and it seemed to him that the lady was unduly long at her toilet. "Here is a link in the chain of the past," he said to himself, reflecting upon what he had heard from Mrs Dawley. (To be continued.)

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.I

rI A LAD'S ROMANCE.

JEWISH CANDIDATES" AND -'.MEMBERS.

[No title]

WELSH MARTYRS.. : :Co.—

A MAD SHIPMASTER.

--... NORTH EAST LANCASHIRE…

[No title]

-jY GOLOFN GYMREIG -'.

I AT EIN GOHEBWYR.

BARDDONIAETH.

Y DELYN DEIRlfs.

LLYN GEIRIONYDD, YN AHFON,"

ENGliYNION I DR. J. D. JAME9,…

OLWYN Y BYD.,

.AWDL 0 DDIOLOHGARWCH AM Y…

. TRO YR OLWYN.

AN. EXPENSIVE KISS.

A SHIPWRECKED CREW.

..RIOTOUS PROCEEDINGS.

[No title]

-----THE LATE WEST OF ENGLAND…

ALARMING FIRE ON THE EAST…

SUNDAY TRAVELLERS AT LLAN…

[No title]

.-NOTES ON AGRICULTURE. ..

THE WEATHER AND FARM WOHK.

MR E. J. REED WITH THE FORESTERS.