ISDERI
Three miles above Llaniago, the river On, which had flowed peaceably
and calmly for some miles through fair meadows and under the spanning
arches of many a bridge, seemed to grow weary of its staid behaviour
and suddenly to return to the playful manners of its youth. In its
wild exuberance it was scarcely recognisable as the placid river which,
further in its course, flowed through Llaniago and Castell On. With
fret and fume and babbling murmurs it made its way through its rocky
channel, filling the air with the sound of its turmoil. Both sides of
its precipitous banks down to the water's edge were hidden in woods of
stunted oak, through whose branches the sound of its flow made
continual music, music which this evening reached the ears of a
solitary man, who sat at the open window of a large house standing near
the top of the ravine, its well-kept grounds and velvet lawn reaching
down to the very edge of the oak wood, and even stretching into its
depths in many a green glade and avenue. There was no division or
boundary between the wood and the lawn, so that the timid hares and
pheasants would often leave their leafy haunts to disport themselves
upon its soft turf. It was Dr. Owen who, contrary to his usual careful
habits, sat at that open window in the gathering twilight, dreaming
dreams which were borne to him on the sound of the rushing waters,
which lulled his senses, and brought before him the scenes of his past
life. The twilight darkened into gloom, and still he sat on in
brooding thought, letting the voice of the river bear to him on its
wings sweet memories or sad retrospect as it chose. The early days of
his childhood came back to him, when with a light heart he had roamed
over moor and sandy beach, or over the grassy slopes of Garthowen. The
river still sang on, and before him rose the vision of a man of homely
and rustic appearance, who urged and encouraged his youthful ardour in
the pursuit of knowledge, who rejoiced at his successes, and supplied
his wants, who laid his hand upon his young head with a dying blessing.
How vividly the scene returned to him! The dismay of the household
when that rugged figure disappeared from the scene, the difficulties
which had crowded his path in the further pursuance of his education,
the arduous steps up the ladder of learning, the perseverance crowned
with success! Still the rushing river filled his ears and brought
before him its phantom memories--his successful career in the
Church--his prosperous marriage, the calm domestic life which
followed--the wealth--the honour--the prestige--what had they led
to?--an empty home, a solitary hearth, no heir to inherit his riches,
no young voices to fill the house with music and laughter--no--it had
all turned to dust and ashes--there was no one to whom he could confide
his joys or his sorrows--he was alone in the world, but need it always
be so? and again he listened, deep in thought, to the spirit voices
which the roar of the river seemed to carry into his soul. What a
change would Will's presence bring into his life. How much ruddier
would be the glow of the fire! how much more cosy the lonely hearth!
How pleasant it would be to see him always seated at the well-appointed
table! how the silver and glass would sparkle! how they would wake the
echoes of the old house with happy talk and merry laughter! and the old
man became quite enamoured of the picture which his imagination had
conjured up.
"Yes," he said aloud, for there was no one to hear him, "I will no
longer live alone; I will adopt Will as my son and heir. I think he is
all I could wish him to be, and I believe he will reflect credit on my
choice."
And when he closed the window and turned to his book and reading-lamp
it was with a pleased smile of content, and a determination to carry
out his plans without delay. Will should be fully informed of his
intentions.
"It will give him confidence," thought the old man, and the feeling of
kinship which had so long slept within him began to awake and to fill
his heart with a warm glow which he had missed so long, though perhaps
unconsciously.
In the following week Will came for a two days' visit, and Dr. Owen
looked forward to their evening smoke with eager impatience. When at
last they were seated in the smoking-room and Will had, with thoughtful
care, pushed the footstool towards him and placed the lamp in his
favourite position on the table at his back, he no longer delayed the
hour of communication.
"Thank you, my boy, I quite miss you when you are away; you seem to
fall into your place here so naturally I almost wish your college life
was over so that I might see more of you."
"It would be strange if I did not feel at home here, you are so
indulgent to me, uncle. If I were your own son I don't think you could
be kinder."
"Well, Will, that is what I want you to become--my own son, the comfort
of my declining years, and the heir to my property when I die. Does
that agree with your own plans for the future, or does it clash with
your inclination?"
"Sir! Uncle!" exclaimed Will, in delighted astonishment, "how can I
answer such a question? Such a change in my prospects takes my breath
away. What can I say to you? I had never thought of such a thing,"
and he rose, with a heightened colour and an air of excited surprise,
which left Dr. Owen no doubt as to the reality of his feelings. They
were not, however, altogether real, for Will had latterly begun to
suspect the true meaning of his uncle's kindness to him.
"There is only one thing to be said, sir. Did it clash with my own
plans there would be no sacrifice too great for me to make in return
for your kindness. But you must know, uncle, that not only the ties of
gratitude compel me, but the bonds of relationship and affection (may I
say love) are strong upon me, and I can only answer once more that I
accept your generosity with the deepest gratitude. I little thought a
year ago that I should ever feel towards you as I do now. I felt a
foolish, boyish resentment at the enstrangement between you and my
father, but now I am wiser, I see the reason of it. I know how
impossible it would be to combine the social duties of a man in your
position with continued intimate relations with your old home. The
impossibility of it even now hampers me, uncle, and I feel that it will
be well for me to break away from the old surroundings if I am ever to
make my way up the ladder of life. Your generous intentions towards me
smooth this difficulty, and I can only thank you again, uncle, from my
heart. I hope my conduct through life may be such that you will never
regret the step you have taken, certainly I shall endeavour to make it
so."
"Agreed, my boy!" said the Dr., holding out his hand, which Will
grasped warmly, "we understand each other, from this time forward you
are my adopted son; the matter is settled, let us say no more about
it," and for a few moments the two men followed the train of their own
thoughts in silence.
"How plainly we hear the On to-night," said Will, "it seems to fill the
air. Shall I close the window?"
"Yes," said Dr. Owen, "if you like, Will; I have never heard it so
plainly before. There is something solemn at all times in the sound;
but to you it can bring no sad memories from the days gone bye, you
have so lately left that wonderful past, which, as we grow older,
becomes ever more and more bathed in the golden tints of imagination,
'that light which never was on sea or land.' You owe something to
those rushing waters, Will, for while I sat here alone one evening,
they flooded my soul with old and tender memories, and bore in upon me
the advisability of the offer which I have just made you, and to which
you have agreed."
Not a word was said as to the possibility of Ebben Owens objecting to
the arrangement, in fact, neither of them thought of the old man, who
even now was sitting in the chimney corner at Garthowen, building
castles in the air, and dreaming dreams in which Will ever played the
part of hero.
Later on, when the latter lay wakeful in the silent hours of night, the
distant roar of the river carried home to his heart too, the memory of
the old homestead, of many a scene of his careless and happy boyhood,
and of the old man, the warmth of whose affection for him he was
beginning to find rather irksome and embarrassing.
On the following day Dr. Owen called all his servants together, and in
a few words but with a very decided manner, made them acquainted with
the important step which he had taken with regard to Will, and bade
them bear in mind, that for the future, his nephew would hold, next to
himself, the highest place in the household. Will had been careful to
ingratiate himself as much as possible with the old servants, whose
opinions he thought might weigh somewhat in their master's decisions,
the younger ones he treated with a somewhat haughty bearing.
"You will be coming again next week," said the Dr., as they both sat at
dinner together; "the Trevors are coming, you know, to spend a few days
with me, a long promised visit. We shall have a day with the otter
hounds. Colonel Vaughan and Miss Gwenda are coming too, did I tell
you?"
"No," said Will, "I did not know that. Do they often stay with you?"
"No, they have never been here before. They were dining at the
Trevors. I included them in the invitation, and they promised to come.
Miss Gwenda is a great favourite of mine, and of yours, Will, eh? Am I
right?"
Will's handsome face flushed as he answered with some embarrassment,
for he was not at all sure that his uncle would approve of the
entanglement of a love affair.
"I--I. Well, sir, no one can be acquainted with Miss Vaughan without
being impressed by her charms both of mind and person, but further than
that, it would--I have no right to--in fact, uncle, it would be madness
for a young man in my station, I mean--of my obscure birth, to think of
a young lady like Miss Vaughan."
"Oh, that you can leave out of your calculations henceforth, I imagine.
I know the world better than you do, Will, and I shall be much
surprised if the advantages of being my adopted son and my heir will
not far outweigh the fact of your rustic birth. Money is the lever
which moves the world now-a-days. That has been my experience, and, if
you act up to the position which I offer you, your old home will not
stand in your way much. Of course I need not tell a young man of your
sense and shrewdness that it will not be necessary for you to allude to
it. Let the past die a natural death."
This was exactly what Will meant to do, but, expressed in his uncle's
cold, business-like tones, its callousness jarred upon him, and he felt
some twinges of conscience, and a regretful sympathy with his old
father rose in his heart, which brought a lump in his throat and an
unwonted moisture in his eyes. But he mastered the feeling, and
assumed an air of pleased compliance which for the moment he did not
feel.
"As for Gwenda Vaughan," continued his uncle, "you could never make a
choice that would please me better; and, if she is at all inclined
towards you, I fancy you will find your stay together here will mark a
new era in your acquaintance."
"I do not think she dislikes me," said Will; "but more than that it
would be presumption on my part to expect."
"H'm. Faint heart never won fair lady," laughed the Dr.
Will left Isderi much elated by his good fortune. Fortunately for him,
he was possessed of a full share of common sense which came to his aid
at this dangerous crisis of his life and prevented his head being
completely turned by the bright hopes and golden prospects which his
uncle's conversation suggested to him. It had been settled between
them that it would be advisable not to make Ebben Owens at once
acquainted with their plans, but to let the fact dawn upon him
gradually.
"He will like it, my dear boy," said his uncle, when Will a little
demurred to the necessity of keeping his father in the dark; "he will
be proud of it when he sees the real and tangible advantages which you
will gain by the arrangement. You will go and see him sometimes as
before, and it need make no difference in your manner towards him,
which, I have no doubt, has always been that of a dutiful son."
One day in the following week, Will returned to Isderi; and it was with
a delightful feeling of prospective proprietorship that he slipped into
the high dog-cart which his uncle sent for him. He took the reins,
naturally, into his own hands, and the servant seemed to sink naturally
into his place beside him; and if, as he drove with a firm hand the
high-stepping, well-groomed horse along the high-road, he felt his
heart swell with pride and self congratulation, can it be wondered at?
On reaching the drive, which wound through the park-like grounds, he
overtook his uncle and Colonel Vaughan. Alighting, he joined them; and
Dr. Owen introduced him to his visitor.
"Ah! yes, yes, your nephew of course--we have met before," said the old
man awkwardly, and he shook hands with Will in a bewildered manner.
"Of course, of course; I remember your pluck when you tackled that
bull. Pommy word I think Gwenda owes her life to you. I shall never
forget that, you know."
"Well, you must give me a fuller account of that affair some day," said
Dr. Owen. "You are come just in time, Will. Colonel Vaughan suggests
that a break in those woods, so as to show the river, would be an
improvement, and I think I agree with him. What do you say to the
idea?"
"I think Colonel Vaughan is quite right, uncle; the same thing had
already struck me."
"That's right; then that settles the matter," said Dr. Owen, who had
determined to leave no doubt in his guest's mind of his nephew's
importance in his estimation, and of his generous intentions towards
him.
Gwenda was sitting alone in the drawing-room when Will entered, and it
was a great relief to him that this was the case, for he was not yet so
completely accustomed to the small convenances of society as to feel no
awkwardness or nervousness upon some occasions. Free from the
restraint of Mrs. Trevor's presence, however, he made no attempt to
hide the pleasure which his meeting with Gwenda aroused in him. She
was looking very beautiful in a dress of some soft white material, and
as she held out her hand to Will a strange feeling came over him, a
feeling that that sweet face would for ever be his lodestar, and that
firm little white hand would help him on the path of life. He scarcely
dared to believe that the blush and the drooping eyes were caused by
his arrival, but it was not long before he had conquered his
diffidence, and remembering his golden prospects had recovered his
self-confidence sufficiently to talk naturally and unrestrainedly.
"Never saw such a thing," said the old colonel, later on in the day, to
his niece, sitting down beside her for a moment's talk, under cover of
a song which Mrs. Trevor was singing. "Dr. Owen seems wrapped up in
his nephew, and the fellow seems to take it all as naturally as a duck
takes to the water. Pommy word, he's a lucky young dog."
And naturally and quietly Will did take his place in the household,
never pleasing his uncle more than when he sometimes unconsciously gave
an order to the servants, and so took upon himself the duties which
would have devolved upon him had he been his son instead of his nephew.
Gradually, too, Colonel Vaughan became accustomed to the change in the
"young fellow's" circumstances, and accepted the situation with
equanimity. Will left no stone unturned to ingratiate himself with the
old man, and was very successful in his attempts. So much so, that
when he and Gwenda would sometimes step out of the French window
together, and roam through the garden and under the oak trees side by
side, her uncle noticed it no more than he would have had Will been one
of the average young men of On-side society.
Meanwhile, for the two young people, the summer roses had a deeper
glow, the river a sweeter murmur, and the sky a brighter tint than they
had ever had before; and while Gwenda sat under the shade of the
gnarled oaks, with head bent over some bit of work, Will lying on the
green sward beside her in a dream of happiness, Mrs. Trevor watched
them from her seat in the drawing-room with a smile full of meaning,
and Dr. Owen with a look of pleased content.
"You must find it a very pleasant change from hard study to come out
here sometimes," said Gwenda, drawing her needle out slowly.
"Yes, very," said Will; "I never bring a book with me, and I try to
banish my studies from my mind while I am here."
"Do you find that possible? I am afraid I have a very ill-regulated
mind, as an interesting subject will occupy my thoughts whether I like
it or not."
"Well, of course," said Will, plucking at the grass, "there are some
subjects which never can be banished. There is one, at all events,
which permeates my whole life; which gilds every scene with beauty, and
which tinges even my dreams. Need I tell you what that is, Miss
Vaughan?"
Gwenda's head bent lower, and there was a vivid glow on her cheek as
she answered:
"Your life here must be so full of brightness, the scenes around you
are so lovely, it is no wonder if they follow you into your dreams.
But--but, Mr. Owen, I will not pretend to misunderstand you."
"You understand me, and yet you are not angry with me? Only tell me
that, Miss Vaughan, and I shall be satisfied; and yet not quite
satisfied, for I crave your love, and can never be happy without it."
There was no answer on Gwenda's lips, but the eyes, which were bent on
her work, grew humid with feeling.
"I love you, but dare I have the presumption to hope that you return my
love? You know me here as my uncle's nephew, but it is not in that
character that I would wish you to think of me now."
What was it in the girl's pure and honest face which seemed to bring
out Will's better nature?
"I am only William Owens" (he even added the plebeian "s" to his name)
"the son of the old farmer Ebben Owens of Garthowen; 'tis true my uncle
calls me his son, and promises that I shall inherit his wealth, but
there is no legal certainty of that. He might die to-morrow, and I
should only be William Owens, the poor student of Llaniago College, and
yet I venture to tell you of my love. I think I must be mad! I seek
in vain for any possible reason why you should accept my love, and I
can find none."
"Only the best of all reasons," said Gwenda, almost in a whisper.
"Gwenda! what is that?" said Will, rising to his feet, an action which
the girl followed before she answered.
"Only because I love you too."
"Gwenda!" said Will again.
They had been resting on the velvet lawn that reached down to the oak
wood, and now they turned towards its shady glades, and Mrs. Trevor,
who had been watching them with deep interest, was obliged to control
her curiosity until, when an hour later, they entered the house
together, Will looking flushed and triumphant, and Gwenda with a glow
of happiness which told its own tale to her observant friend.
"It's all right, my love, I see it is! I needn't ask any questions, he
who runs may read! You have accepted him?"
"I don't know what my uncle will say, it all depends upon that."
"Never mind what he says, my dear. You and I together will manage him,
we'll make him say just what we please, so _that's_ settled!"
In fact, Will's wooing seemed to belie the usual course of true love.
Upon it as upon everything else connected with him, the fates seemed to
smile, and Colonel Vaughan was soon won over by Gwenda's persuasions.
"Well! pommy word, you know, Gwenda, I like the young fellow myself.
Somehow or other he has taken us by storm. Of course, I should have
been better pleased if he were Dr. Owen's son instead of his nephew."
"Well, he is next thing to it, uncle," said the girl coaxingly. "He is
his adopted son, and will inherit all his wealth, and you know how
necessary it is for me to marry a rich man, as I haven't a penny
myself. Of course I will never marry him without your consent, uncle
dear, but then I am going to get it," and she sat on his knee and drew
her soft hands over his bald head, turning his face up like a cherub's,
and pressing her full red lips on his wiry moustache.
"Not a penny yourself! Well! well! we'll see about that. Be good,
girl, and love your old uncle, and I daresay he won't leave you
penniless. But, pommy word! look here, child, we must ask him here to
stay a few days. He won't be bringing old Owens Garthowen here, I
hope; couldn't bear that, you know."
"I am afraid he doesn't see much of his old father and sister," she
said pensively.
"Afraid! I should think you would be delighted."
"No, I should prefer his being manly enough to stick to his own people,
and brave the opinion of the world. _I_ should not be ashamed of the
old man; but, of course, I would never thrust him upon my relations."
"Well! well! you are an odd little puss, and know how to get over your
old uncle, whatever!"
And so all went smoothly for Will. At the end of two years he took his
degree, and another year saw him well through his college course;
complimented by his fellow students, praised and flattered by his
uncle, and loved by as sweet a girl as ever sprang from a Welsh stock.
Before entering upon the curacy which his uncle procured for him with
as little delay as possible, he spent a few days at Garthowen, during
which time he was made the idol of his family. Full of new hopes and
ambitions, he scarcely thought of Morva, who kept out of his way as
much as possible, dreading only the usual request that she would meet
him by the broom bushes; but no such request came, and, if the truth be
told, he never remembered to seek an interview with her, so filled was
his mind with thoughts of Gwenda.
He had been studiously reticent with regard to his engagement to her,
at her special request. She knew how much gossip the news would
occasion, and felt that the less it was talked about beforehand the
less likelihood there would be of her relations being irritated and
annoyed by ill-natured remarks. She was happier than she had ever
hoped to be, and if she sometimes saw in her lover a trait of character
which did not entirely meet the approbation of her honest nature, she
laid the flattering unction to her soul, "When we are married I will
try to make him perfect."