GUY LORRAINE.
ALDYTH rose early the next morning, that her letter might be finished
and posted ere the morning mail went out. The clock had not long
struck seven, when she threw wide her casement, and let in the fresh,
delicious air. Birds were chirping beneath the eaves, and fluttering to
and fro; the dewy grass was sparkling in the sun, and the garden looked
most tempting; but Aldyth turned resolutely from the window, and seated
herself at her writing-table.
One may often gain insight into a girl's character by a glance round
her room. Aldyth's room, in which she took some pride, as girls do
in a place that is their very own, revealed that she had a refined
and cultured mind. There was nothing luxurious in its arrangements,
but it was a pretty room despite the disadvantage, that, owing to the
old-fashioned construction of the house, the ceiling sloped sharply on
one side. Flowers stood in glasses on the dressing-table, and bees were
buzzing over the mignonette planted in a box on the window sill.
Water-colour drawings adorned the walls, some of them painted by
Aldyth, and some the gifts of school friends, and here and there were
photographs Of Aldyth's favourite heroes—Carlyle, Ruskin, and Charles
Kingsley, Tennyson, and Browning. The little wooden bookcase held a
selection of books any girl might be proud to possess. There were
daintily-bound editions of all our greatest poets, with some of our
noblest works of fiction, and standard works of prose, too, showing
that Aldyth did not read for mere entertainment, though in reading she
found one of the highest pleasures of her life. For Aldyth loved books;
she stinted herself of many of the pretty things girls love, that she
might spend her pocket money on books, and at any time a bookshop had
more attraction for her than a milliner's.
In a handsome frame on the mantelshelf stood the latest portrait of
her mother which Aldyth had received. A similar one, reduced in size,
Aldyth wore constantly in a gold locket, suspended by a slender chain
from her neck. It was the photograph of a lady who might have been
thirty years of age, but looked no older, with a beautiful face,
faultless in form and feature, and luxuriant masses of hair dressed
high on the crown of the head, after the fashion of the day. The pose
of the head was queenly, the exquisite lips had a somewhat disdainful
curl, as though conscious of their beauty. It was a face which demanded
admiration; whether it would as readily call forth love, the portrait
did not reveal. It is never safe to judge a person from a photograph.
This was Aldyth's beautiful mother, of whom she had dreamed all her
life. Often did her eyes rest on the portrait with a sense of hungry,
yearning love, and she longed for the time when she could look into
her mother's face, and meet the kiss of her sweet lips. With passing
years the longing came to have somewhat of the bitterness of a deferred
hope. There were hours when it was positive pain to Aldyth to think of
the love she had missed through the long separation from her mother.
But her nature was too bright and hopeful for this thought to sadden
her long. She was more wont to look forward to the perfect joy of the
long-deferred meeting, and dream of the happiness that would then be
hers.
Near Mrs. Stanton's portrait were portraits of the two daughters who
had been born to her in Australia. They were taken as children, but
even these juvenile portraits showed that the elder one, a girl about
thirteen, had inherited the beauty of her mother, while the little
one, dark, heavy-browed, and somewhat stolid-looking, was unlikely to
develop good looks.
Aldyth's eyes turned instinctively to her mother's picture as she laid
down her pen, after signing herself, "Your ever-loving daughter."
"Oh, mother! When will you come to me?" she cried in her heart.
If she could have had her own way, Aldyth would long ago have sailed to
join her mother at Melbourne, but Mrs. Stanton had reasons for wishing
that Aldyth should remain at Woodham with her aunt. Five miles from
Woodham lay Wyndham, the family estate of the Lorraines, and at Wyndham
Hall lived Aldyth's grand-uncle, an old bachelor, strong-willed,
crotchety, eccentric, and possessed of considerable wealth.
Stephen Lorraine was the eldest and the last of three brothers, who had
been well-known in the neighbourhood of Woodham. His brother William
had practised as a medical man there, winning much love and honour,
but he died at the age of fifty, leaving two children, a son and a
daughter. The son, a handsome young fellow, was a great favourite with
his uncle Stephen, and was looked upon as his heir. With his uncle's
approval, he made the army his profession. Stephen Lorraine had a
decided notion that his heir must conform to his will in everything,
and as long as the young man did so, all went well.
But a time came in Captain Lorraine's history, when love proved
stronger than expediency, and he dared his uncle's anger by marrying
into an Essex family for which old Stephen had a particular dislike.
It was an offence not to be condoned, and Stephen Lorraine at once
announced his intention of leaving his property to the only son of his
brother James, who had taken holy orders, and after officiating for a
while as a curate at Woodham, had been presented to a living in the
north of England. At his uncle's request, this young man, Guy Lorraine
by name, came to Woodham, and took up his abode at the Hall. He brought
with him a delicate young wife and a bright boy of two years.
Meanwhile Captain Lorraine, the discarded heir, disappointed in his
married life and depressed by disease, was wandering from place to
place, seeking health, and vainly hoping that his uncle would relent
towards him. If the news of his death stirred a too late regret within
the heart of old Stephen Lorraine, he showed no sign of it, unless the
increased bitterness of feeling he manifested towards his nephew's
widow might be so regarded. He hated the very name of Aldyth's mother,
but he expressed a wish to see the little girl who had been left in
the care of her father's sister at Woodham, and as soon as he saw her,
Aldyth won her way to his heart.
A few months after the death of Captain Lorraine, Guy Lorraine's young
wife also passed away, so that when Aldyth's mother finally left her to
her aunt's care, Miss Lorraine—or Lucy Lorraine, as every one called
her in those days—had as good as two motherless children to love and
cherish. Little Guy and Aldyth were constantly together. If Guy were
not spending the day at Miss Lorraine's cottage, Aldyth would be
playing with him at the Hall, to her childish mind the most delightful
place in the world; for Stephen Lorraine made a great pet of the tiny
daughter of his favourite nephew. He would walk about the house and
garden with the little damsel seated on his shoulder, clinging to his
rough, wiry locks; and Aldyth's earliest rides were taken on a little
Shetland pony, attached by a rein to the stout cob ridden by her
grand-uncle. The servants at the Hall whispered to each other that the
squire cared more for the girl than for the boy, and they found the
cause in Aldyth's strong resemblance to her father.
But as young Guy grew into a robust, high-spirited boy, he too won his
grand-uncle's affection; and when by his father's sudden death from an
accident in the hunting-field he was made, as it seemed, the heir to
Wyndham, most persons in the neighbourhood believed that it was Stephen
Lorraine's intention that the cousins should marry, and Wyndham thus
become the home and inheritance of them both. But up to the time at
which our story commences, when the young people were both of age, no
one had heard old Stephen give the least hint of any such intention.
So far he had been content to let things take their course, judging
perhaps from his past experience, that by active interference, he might
defeat his own ends.
The old man had long outlived his two brothers, and he had seen several
of the younger generation of his family pass away; but he was still
hale and hearty, though in his eightieth year. Aldyth continued very
dear to him, and he liked to have her often at the Hall. And it was
because of her uncle's affection for her that Mrs. Stanton wished
Aldyth to remain at Woodham. When the girl in her letters pleaded to
be allowed to join her mother, Mrs. Stanton would reply that she felt
it would be wrong to take Aldyth from the poor old man, who evidently
found such comfort in her society.
"Do all you can to please your uncle, darling," her mother wrote. "Make
it your duty to cheer his old age, and by so doing you may atone for
the harm I did when married your father, and so deprived him of his
uncle's favour. Who knows? He may even come to forgive poor me for your
dear sake."
But as yet, Stephen Lorraine had shown no sign of forgiving Mrs.
Stanton. He preferred to regard her as one who had no connection with
him whatever, having passed out of his family when she married her
second husband. To Aldyth he never named her mother.
As Aldyth, having finished her letter, ran down stairs, a young man
was entering the house with the air of one who felt at home there. He
was a tall broad-chested fellow, and his shooting suit well became his
fine proportions. Of fair complexion, which the sun had brought to a
warm hue, with light hair curling crisply over his forehead, well-cut
features, and eyes that might pass for blue, he was a typical specimen
of an English country gentleman, and most persons considered him very
good-looking. He was carrying several brace of partridges strung
together. At the sight of Aldyth, he smiled brightly, and lifted his
cap with easy grace.
"Good morning, Aldyth," he said; "I'm an early visitor. I had to drive
a fellow up to catch the first train, so I took the opportunity to
bring cousin some birds. There are some for Mrs. Bland too, but I could
hardly call on them before breakfast."
"No, really? I should have thought your audacity might have carried
you so far;" said Aldyth, merrily. "However, in consideration of your
bringing us those birds, we'll give you some breakfast, and then, if
you like, I will walk down with you to the Blands, for I want to see
Kitty."
"Kitty! I thought Hilda was your particular friend."
"So she may be, but Kitty is my friend too. I have something to tell
her that will interest her very much." And Aldyth's eyes shone with
amusement as she pictured Kitty's excitement when she heard her news.
"What's up? What has happened?" asked Guy, looking at her with
curiosity.
But Aldyth only laughed in a tantalizing manner, and at that moment
Miss Lorraine made her appearance.
"This is good of you, Guy," she said, lifting her face for him to kiss,
for Guy had the place of a nephew in Miss Lorraine's heart. "I thought
we should see nothing of you whilst you had such a shooting-party at
the Hall. What fine partridges! You must be having good sport."
"Pretty fair," replied the young man; "the birds are not so plentiful
as last year; the wet spring thinned the broods. Still, we made
tolerable bags yesterday."
"So it seems," said Miss Lorraine, eyeing the birds with admiration,
and immediately beginning to plan a little supper-party, to which Mr.
Glynne should be invited. "How good of you to remember me! But here is
the coffee—come in and get your breakfast. You must need it after your
drive."
"When are you and Aldyth coming to Wyndham again?" inquired Guy, as he
helped himself to some of Miss Lorraine's excellent ham. "Uncle was
saying yesterday what a time it was since we had seen you."
"Well, you see, Guy, we feel rather shy of coming whilst you have a
house full of gentlemen," said Miss Lorraine. "You don't want ladies
about when you are so busy with the shooting."
"You forget that we do not shoot in the evenings," replied Guy. "Why
can't you and Aldyth come down to dinner one evening? I should like you
to see Captain Walker and Marriott. Marriott's awfully fond of music,
and sings well. You might ask the Blands to come with you, and then we
could have quite a musical evening."
"Well, perhaps; I must think about it," said Miss Lorraine, dubiously.
"But you must ask the Blands, Guy, not I."
"All right; that's easily managed," said Guy.
"Why should you not bring Captain Walker and young Marriott here one
evening?" asked Miss Lorraine. "Then I would invite the Blands and Mr.
Glynne to meet you."
"Who in the world is Mr. Glynne?" asked Guy, opening his eyes.
"The new master just come to the school," explained Miss Lorraine.
"Aldyth and I made his acquaintance yesterday." And she related the
circumstances that had led to the introduction.
Guy's lips curled satirically as he listened. To him the whole story
was absurd, and his comments on the incident were not entirely
agreeable to Miss Lorraine, who had taken a great fancy to John Glynne.
"How any man can make himself so ridiculous as to go grinding about the
country on one of those trumpery machines is beyond my comprehension,"
he said. "A good horse is worth fifty of them. I should be very sorry
to sit astride such a thing."
"There is no reason why you should, you have always a horse at your
command," said Aldyth. "I have no doubt Mr. Glynne would think a horse
preferable, if he could afford one; but a horse is expensive to buy and
expensive to keep, whilst a bicycle is no trouble at all, and its rider
is delightfully independent."
"Yes, especially when he falls off and cuts his head open," said Guy,
laughing.
"Now, Guy, I will not have you laugh at Mr. Glynne's misfortune," said
Miss Lorraine. "For my part, I was glad the accident happened when and
where it did, since it made us acquainted with so nice a man. He is not
one to ridicule, I assure you. He is a B.A. of Cambridge University,
and a highly cultured man. I hope we may be able to induce him to give
us a course of lectures during the winter."
"Lectures!" exclaimed Guy, lifting his brows. "What—to you and poor
dear Aldyth?"
"Don't be absurd; you know that is not my meaning. We want him to give
a course of lectures on literature at Town Hall, or some such place,
which any lady or gentleman may attend, who chooses to take a ticket."
"Whatever is the good of that?" asked Guy, with a simplicity which made
Aldyth laugh.
"The good is that we shall have a chance of improving our minds and
gaining some fresh ideas," said Miss Lorraine. "It will be a great
advantage to the young people, if we can arrange for such lectures. You
must take a ticket, Guy."
"I will take a ticket with pleasure, to oblige you," he said. "But
please do not ask me to sit for an hour on one of those hard benches in
the Town Hall, and listen to a dry lecture. I could not do it really.
What is the good of it?"
"Guy, you are shockingly lazy!" said Aldyth. "I am just longing for
the lectures to begin; and I know that Hilda and Kitty Bland will be
delighted when they hear of our grand scheme. I have no fear that the
ladies of Woodham will not muster strong at the lectures. I believe we
read and think more than the men do."
"Of course; you have nothing else to do," said Guy, who, like many
persons who enjoy unlimited leisure, was able to persuade himself that
he led a busy life. "But why women want to study so hard I cannot
think. They are no more attractive, in my eyes, for knowing a good
deal. Indeed, I dislike learned women."
"They are so much more difficult to talk to, are they not, Guy?" said
Aldyth, mischievously. "But I see you want to be off, so I will get my
hat."
As they walked to the Blands, Aldyth and her cousin met Mr. Glynne
hurrying along on his way to the school. It was but a few steps from
his lodgings, and he wore his gown and college cap, which made him
rather an imposing spectacle in the High Street. As he lifted his cap,
the patch of plaster on his brow was plainly visible. Aldyth smiled
frankly as their eyes met, and received a bright smile in response. Guy
looked at the new master with cold, critical eyes.
"How ridiculous to wear that mortar-board!" he said. "If that's your
grand lecturer, I don't think much of his appearance."
"I never said that he was handsome," replied Aldyth; "but I think he
looks strong in every way."
Breakfast was still on the table in the Blands' dining room, and Hilda
sprang up with rather a shame-faced look as the Lorraines entered the
room.
"Yes, Aldyth, it is very shocking, I know," she exclaimed, as her
friend shook her head with affected gravity. "But every one cannot have
your energy, and it is really mamma's fault that I am late, for she did
not call me this morning."
"Oh, of course; it is always some one else's fault," remarked Kitty,
running in from the garden with a basket of pears in her hand.
"And a very satisfactory thing that is," said Guy. "I never care as
long as I can find some one to bear the blame of my misdeeds. Why
should people make such a fuss about early rising? It is all very well
to get up if there is shooting or anything to get up for; but otherwise
I would rather stay in bed."
Every one laughed at this candid confession, and Hilda's face
brightened. They strolled out through the open door into the garden.
"Aldyth has prime news for you, Kitty," said Guy. "It seems there is a
new tutor come to the school, and he must needs prostrate himself at my
cousin's gate last evening. Aldyth found him there—a gory spectacle.
Being, as you know, one of the most strong-minded of her sex, she did
not faint, but promptly conveyed him into the house, where she, and
Cousin Lucy devoted themselves to binding up his wounds."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Kitty. "I never heard such a rigmarole.
Aldyth, what does he mean?"
"It is quite true, I assure you," said Guy. "We met the wounded knight
not five minutes ago, with his forehead plastered up, looking like the
hero of a hundred fights."
"Do be sensible and tell me what you mean," pleaded Kitty. "Aldyth, is
there a word of truth in what he says?"
"It is remotely 'founded on fact,' like the stories auntie used to read
when she was a girl," said Aldyth, "and the facts are these: Mr. Glynne
had a fall from his bicycle near our gate yesterday afternoon. He cut
his forehead rather badly, and I persuaded him to come in and let aunt
attend to it."
"You don't mean it! What a joke!" cried Kitty. "Do tell me about it,
Aldyth."
"Indeed I will not, if you are going to make a joke of another's
suffering—you unfeeling creature!" said Aldyth.
"Why, was he much hurt?" asked Kitty, quickly. "You might tell me,
Aldyth."
"I think he will get over it," said Aldyth, with a merry twinkle in her
eyes. "He recovered sufficiently to talk a good deal to aunt and me
before he left. And what do you think, girls? He is perhaps going to
give a course of lectures during the winter."
"A course of lectures!" said Hilda, quickly. "On what subject?"
"Oh, on literature—the poets, perhaps," said Aldyth, vaguely. "Aunt is
delighted with the idea; she means to do all she can to realize it."
"Then she will succeed," said Kitty. "I never yet knew Miss Lorraine
fail to carry through any plan she had set her heart upon."
"The poets! That will be lovely!" cried Hilda.
"Then you will go to these lectures?" said Guy, his face clouding a
little as he spoke.
They walked on down the garden path, leaving the others a little way
behind. Hilda's slender form looked more fairylike than usual in
contrast to Guy's height and breadth.
"Of course, if they are held, I shall attend them," said Hilda; "I
would not miss them on any account. It will be a grand opportunity for
self-improvement."
"Some persons do not need improvement," said Guy in a low voice, as his
eyes rested admiringly on her. "I like you just as you are. You would
be spoiled if you became very learned."
His look and words brought a warm flush to Hilda's face. She was
embarrassed, but not annoyed. She gave a little nervous laugh, and said—
"I am sure I ought to feel much flattered. Fortunately there is little
danger of my ever becoming very learned."
Aldyth was replying as best as she could to a volley of questions from
Kitty concerning Mr. Glynne. She stayed talking for a while after Guy
had excused himself and gone off to his shooting. As she quitted the
house, she glanced down the High Street, and saw her aunt coming out
of the bank. Aldyth went to meet her. Miss Lorraine's face was radiant
with satisfaction.
"It is all right, Aldyth," she said. "Mr. Greenwood quite approves of
the lectures, and he has promised me his support."
Aldyth could fully sympathize with her aunt's satisfaction. Mr.
Greenwood, the banker, and his brother, Mr. Ralph Greenwood, the
solicitor, were highly influential members of Woodham society.