little astonished at hearing the nature of the grievance, and perhaps
thought Anne's distress more exaggerated than it need have been. "Dr.
Lewis wrote to me last night about some alteration he wants to make in
the garden; I have come to speak to him about it."
"Alteration in the garden!" mechanically repeated Anne. "I have heard
nothing about it."
He passed into the house to the doctor. We picked on at the currants,
and then took them into the kitchen. Anne sat down on a chair to strip
them from their stalks. Presently we saw Sir Robert and the doctor at
one end of the garden, the latter drawing boundaries round a corner with
his walking-stick.
"Oh, I know," exclaimed Anne. "Yesterday Mrs. Podd suggested that a
summer-house in that spot would be a delightful improvement. But I
never, never could have supposed papa meant to act upon the suggestion."
Just so. Dr. Lewis wished to erect a summer-house of wood and
trellis-work, but had not liked to do it without first speaking to his
landlord.
As the days went on, Anne grew to feel somewhat reassured. She was very
busy, for all kinds of preparations had to be made in the house, and the
wedding was to take place at once.
"I think, perhaps, I took it up in a wrong light, Johnny," she said to
me one day, when I went in and found her sewing at some new curtains. "I
hope I did. It must have been the suddenness of the news, I suppose, and
that I was so very unprepared for it."
"How do you mean? In what wrong light?"
"No one seems to think ill of it, or to foresee cause for apprehension.
I am so glad. I don't think I can ever much like her: but if she makes
papa happy, it is all I ask."
"Who has been talking about it?"
"Herbert Tanerton for one. He saw Mrs. Podd at Worcester last week, and
thought her charming. The very woman, he said, to do papa good; lively
and full of resource. So it may all be for the best."
I should as soon have expected an invitation to the moon as to the
wedding. But I got it. Dr. Lewis, left to himself, was feeling helpless
again, and took me with him to Worcester on the eve of the happy day. We
put up at the Bell Hotel for the night; but Anne went direct to Lake's
boarding-house. I ran down there in the evening.
Whether an inkling of the coming wedding had got abroad, I can't say; it
was to be kept private, and had been, so far as any one knew; but Lake's
house was full, not a room to be had in it for love or money. Anne was
put in a sleeping-closet two yards square.
"It is not our fault," spoke Miss Dinah, openly. "We were keeping a room
for Miss Lewis; but on Monday last when a stranger came, wanting to be
taken in, Mrs. Podd told us Miss Lewis was going to the hotel with her
father."
"My dear love, I thought you were," chimed in Mrs. Podd, as she patted
Anne on the shoulder. "I must have mis-read a passage in your dear
papa's letter, and so caught up the misapprehension. Never mind; you
shall dress in my room if your own is not large enough. And I am sure
all young ladies ought to be obliged to me, for the new inmate is a
delightful man. My daughters find him charming."
"The room is quite large enough, thank you," replied Anne, meekly.
"Do you approve of the wedding, Miss Dinah?" I asked her later, when we
were alone in the dining-room. "Do you like it?"
Miss Dinah, who was counting a lot of glasses on the sideboard that the
maid had just washed and brought in, counted to the end, and then began
upon the spoons.
"It is the only way we can keep our girls in check," observed she;
"otherwise they'd break and lose all before them. I know how many
glasses have been used at table, consequently how many go out to be
washed, and the girl has to bring that same number in, or explain the
reason why. As to the spoons, they get thrown away with the dishwater
and sometimes into the fire. If they were silver it would be all the
same."
"Do you like the match, Miss Dinah?"
"Johnny Ludlow," she said, turning to face me, "we make a point in
this house of not expressing our likes and dislikes. Our position is
peculiar, you know. When people have come to years of discretion, and
are of the age that Mrs. Podd is, not to speak of Dr. Lewis's, we must
suppose them to be capable of judging and acting for themselves. We have
not helped on the match by so much as an approving word or look: on the
other hand, it has not lain in our duty or in our power to retard it."
Which was, of course, good sense. But for all her caution, I fancied she
could have spoken against it, had she chosen.
A trifling incident occurred to me in going back to the Bell. Rushing
round the corner into Broad Street, a tall, well-dressed man, sauntering
on before me, suddenly turned on his heel, and threw away his cigar. It
caught the front of my shirt. I flung it off again; but not before it
had burnt a small hole in the linen.
"I beg your pardon," said the smoker, in a courteous voice--and there
was no mistaking him for anything but a gentleman. "I am very sorry. It
was frightfully careless of me."
"Oh, it is nothing; don't think about it," I answered, making off at
full speed.
St. Michael's Church stood in a nook under the cathedral walls: it is
taken down now. It was there that the wedding took place. Dr. Lewis
arrived at it more like a baby than a bridegroom, helpless and nervous
to a painful degree. But Mrs. Podd made up for his deficiencies in her
grand self-possession; her white bonnet and nodding feather seemed to
fill the church. Anne wore grey silk; Julia and Fanny Podd some shining
pink stuff that their petticoats could be seen through. Poor Anne's
tears were dropping during the service; she kept her head bent down to
hide them.
"Look up, Anne," I said from my place close to her. "Take courage."
"I can't help it, indeed, Johnny," she whispered. "I wish I could. I'm
sure I wouldn't throw a damper on the general joy for the world."
The wedding-party was a very small one indeed; just ourselves and a
stern-looking gentleman, who was said to be a lawyer-cousin of the
Podds, and to come from Birmingham. All the people staying at Lake's
had flocked into the church to look on.
"Pray take my arm. Allow me to lead you out. I see how deeply you are
feeling this."
The ceremony seemed to be over almost as soon as it was begun--perhaps
the parson, remembering the parties had both been married before, cut it
short. And it was in the slight bustle consequent upon its termination
that the above words, in a low, tender, and most considerate tone, broke
upon my ear. Where had I heard the voice before?
Turning hastily round, I recognized the stranger of the night before. It
was to Anne he had spoken, and he had already taken her upon his arm.
Her head was bent still; the rebellious tears would hardly be kept back;
and a sweet compassion sat on every line of his handsome features as he
gazed down at her.
"Who is he?" I asked of Fanny Podd, as he walked forward with Anne.
"Mr. Angerstyne--the most fascinating man I ever saw in my life. The
Lakes could not have taken him in, but for mamma's inventing that little
fable of Anne's going with old Lewis to the Bell. Trust mamma for not
letting us two girls lose a chance," added free-speaking Fanny. "I may
take your arm, I suppose, Johnny Ludlow."
And after a plain breakfast in private, which included only the
wedding-party, Dr. and Mrs. Lewis departed for Cheltenham.
+Part the Second.+
"Johnny, what can I do? What do you _think_ I can do?"
In the pretty grey silk that she had worn at her father's wedding, and
with a whole world of perplexity in her soft brown eyes, Anne Lewis
stood by me, and whispered the question. As soon as the bride and
bridegroom had driven off, Anne was to depart for Maythorn Bank, with
Julia and Fanny Podd; all three of them to remain there for the few days
that Dr. and Mrs. Lewis purposed to be away. But now, no sooner had the
sound of the bridal wheels died on our ears, and Anne had suggested that
they should get ready for their journey home, than the two young ladies
burst into a laugh, and said, _Did_ she think they were going off to
that dead-alive place! Not if they knew it. And, giving her an emphatic
nod to prove they meant what they said, they waltzed to the other end of
the room in their shining pink dresses to talk to Mr. Angerstyne.
Consternation sat in every line of Anne's face. "I cannot go there
alone, or stay there alone," she said to me. "These things are not done
in France."
No: though Maythorn Bank was her own home, and though she was as
thoroughly English as a girl can be, it could not be done. French
customs and ideas did not permit it, and she had been brought up in
them. It was certainly not nice behaviour of the girls. They should have
objected before their mother left.
"_I_ don't know what you can do, Anne. Better ask Miss Dinah."
"Not go with you, after the arrangements are made--and your servant
Sally is expecting you all!" cried Miss Dinah Lake. "Oh, you must be
mistaken," she added; and went up to talk to them. Julia only laughed.
"Go to be buried alive at Maythorn Bank as long as mamma chooses to stay
away!" she cried. "You won't get either of us to do anything of the
kind, Miss Dinah."
"Mrs. Podd--I mean Mrs. Lewis--will be back to join you there in less
than a week," said Miss Dinah.
"Oh, will she, though! You don't know mamma. She may be off to Paris and
fifty other places before she turns her head homewards again. Anne Lewis
can go home by herself, if she wants to go: I and Fanny mean to stay
with you, Miss Dinah."
So Anne had to stay also. She sat down and wrote two letters: one to
Sally, saying their coming home was delayed; the other to Dr. Lewis,
asking what she was to do.
"And the gain is mine," observed Mr. Angerstyne. "What would the house
have been without you?"
He appeared to speak to the girls generally. But his eyes and his smile
evidently were directed to Anne. She saw it too, and blushed. Blushed!
when she had not yet known him four-and-twenty hours. But he was just
the fellow for a girl to fall in love with--and no disparagement to her
to say so.
"Who is he?" I that evening asked Miss Dinah.
"A Mr. Angerstyne," she answered. "I don't know much of him, except that
he is an independent gentleman with a beautiful estate in Essex, and a
fashionable man. I see what you are thinking, Johnny: that it is curious
a man of wealth and fashion should be staying at Lake's boarding-house.
But Mr. Angerstyne came over from Malvern to see Captain Bristow, the
old invalid, who keeps his room upstairs, and when here the captain
persuaded him to stay for a day or two, if we could give him a room.
That's how it was. Captain Bristow leaves us soon, and I suppose Mr.
Angerstyne will be leaving too."
I had expected to go home the following day; but that night up came two
of the young Sankers, Dan and King, and said I was to go and stay a bit
with them. Leave to do so was easily had from home; for just as our
school at old Frost's was reassembling, two boys who had stayed the
holidays were taken with bad throats, and we were not to go back till
goodness knew when. Tod, who was on a visit in Gloucestershire, thought
it would be Michaelmas.
Back came letters from Cheltenham. Mrs. Lewis told her girls they might
remain at Worcester if they liked. And Dr. Lewis wrote to Anne, saying
she must not go home alone; and he enclosed a note to Mrs. Lake, asking
her to be so kind as to take care of his daughter.
After that we had a jolly time. The Sankers and Lakes amalgamated well,
and were always at one another's houses. This does not apply to Mrs.
Lake and Miss Dinah: as Miss Dinah put it, they had no time for gadding
down to Sanker's. But Mr. Angerstyne (who had not left) grew quite
familiar there; the Sankers, who never stood on the slightest ceremony,
making no stranger of him. Captain Sanker discovered that two or three
former naval chums of his were known to Mr. Angerstyne; one dead old
gentleman in particular, who had been his bosom friend. This was quite
enough. Mr. Angerstyne had, so to say, the key of the house given him,
and went in and out of it at will.
Every one liked Mr. Angerstyne. And for all the pleasurable excursions
that now fell to our lot, we were indebted to him. Without being
ostentatious, he opened his purse freely; and there was a delicacy in
his manner of doing it that prevented its being felt. On the plea of
wanting, himself, to see some noted spot or place in the neighbourhood,
he would order a large post-carriage from the Star or the Crown, and
invite as many as it would hold to accompany him, and bring baskets of
choice fruit, or dainties from the pastry-cook's, to regale us on. Or he
would tell the Sankers that King looked delicate: poor lame King, who
was to die ere another year had flown. Down would come the carriage,
ostensibly to take King for a drive; and a lot of us reaped the benefit.
Mrs. Sanker was always of the party: without a chaperon, the young
ladies could not have gone. Generally speaking the Miss Podds would
come--_they_ took care of that: and Anne Lewis always came--which I
think Mr. Angerstyne took care of. The golden page of life was opening
for Anne Lewis: she seemed to be entering on an Elysian pathway, every
step of which was strewn with flowers.
One day we went to Holt Fleet. The carriage came down to the Sankers' in
the morning, Mr. Angerstyne in it, and the captain stepped out of doors,
his face beaming, to see the start. Once in a way he would be of the
party himself, but not often. Mr. Angerstyne handed Mrs Sanker in, and
then called out for me. I held back, feeling uncomfortable at being
always taken, and knowing that Fred and Dan thought me selfish for it.
But it was of no use: Mr. Angerstyne had a way of carrying out his own
will.
"Get up on the box, Johnny," he said to me. And, close upon my heels,
wanting to share the box with me, came Dan Sanker. Mr. Angerstyne pulled
him back.
"Not you, Dan. I shall take King."
"King has been ever so many times--little wretch!" grumbled Dan. "It's
my turn. It's not fair, Mr. Angerstyne."
"You, Dan, and Fred, and Toby, all the lot of you, shall have a carriage
to yourselves for a whole day if you like, but King goes with me," said
Mr. Angerstyne, helping the lad up.
He got in himself, took his seat by Mrs. Sanker, and the post-boy
touched up his horses. Mrs. Sanker, mildly delighted, for she liked
these drives, sat in her ordinary costume: a fancy shawl of some thick
kind of silk crape, all the colours of the rainbow blended into its
pattern, and a black velvet bonnet with a turned-up brim and a rose in
it, beneath which her light hair hung down in loose curls.
We stopped at Lake's boarding-house to take up the three girls; who got
in, and sat on the seat opposite Mrs. Sanker and Mr. Angerstyne: and
then the post-boy started for Holt Fleet. "The place is nothing,"
observed Captain Sanker, who had suggested it as an easy, pleasant drive
to Mr. Angerstyne; "but the inn is comfortable, and the garden's nice to
sit or stroll in."
We reached Holt Fleet at one o'clock. The first thing Mr. Angerstyne did
was to order luncheon, anything they could conveniently give us, and to
serve it in the garden. It proved to be ham and eggs; first-rate; we
were all hungry, and he bade them keep on frying till further orders. At
which the girl who waited on us laughed, as she drew the corks of some
bottled perry.
I saw a bit of by-play later on. Strolling about to digest the ham and
eggs, some in one part of the grounds, which in places had a wild and
picturesque aspect, some in another, Mr. Angerstyne suddenly seized
Anne, as if to save her from falling. She was standing in that high
narrow pathway that is perched up aloft and looks so dangerous,
steadying herself by a tree, and bending cautiously forwards to look
down. The path may be gone now. The features of the whole place may be
altered; perhaps even done away with altogether; for I am writing of
years and years ago. He stole up and caught her by the waist.
"Oh, Mr. Angerstyne!" she exclaimed, blushing and starting.
"Were you going to take a leap?"
"No, no," she smiled. "Would it kill me if I did?"
"Suppose I let you go--and send you over to try it?"
Ah, he would not do that. He was holding her all too safely. Anne made
an effort to free herself; but her eyelids drooped over her tell-tale
eyes, her conscious face betrayed what his presence was to her.
"How beautiful the river is from this, as we look up it!" she exclaimed.
"More than beautiful."
Julia Podd rushed up to mar the harmony. Never does a fleeting moment of
this kind set in but somebody does mar it. Julia flirted desperately
with Mr. Angerstyne.
"Mr. Angerstyne, I have been looking for you everywhere. Mrs. Sanker
wants to know if you will take us for a row on the water. The inn has a
nice boat."
"Mrs. Sanker does!" he exclaimed. "With pleasure. Are you fond of the
water, Miss Lewis?"
Anne made no particular reply. She stood at a little distance now,
apparently looking at the view; but I thought she wanted to hide her hot
cheeks. Mr. Angerstyne caught her hand in his, playfully put his other
hand within Miss Julia's arm, and so piloted them down. Ah, he might
flirt back again with Julia Podd, and did; with Fanny also; but it was
not to them his thoughts were given.
"Go on the water!" said Mrs. Sanker, who was sitting under the shade of
the trees, repeating one of her favourite ballads to King in a see-saw
tone. "_I!_ Julia Podd must have misunderstood me. To go on the water
might be nice for those who would like it, I said. I don't."
"Will you go?" asked Mr. Angerstyne, turning to Anne.
Anne shook her head, confessing herself too much of a coward. She had
never been on any water in her life until when crossing over from
France, and never wished to be. And Mr. Angerstyne ungallantly let the
boat alone, though Julia and Fanny told him they adored the water.
We sat down in the shade by Mrs. Sanker; some on the bench by her side,
some on the grass at her feet, and she recited for us the time-worn
ballad she had begun for King: just as the following year she would
recite things to us, as already told of, sitting on the floor beam of
the turret-room. It was called "Lord Thomas." Should you like to hear
it?
Lord Thomas he was a bold forester,
And a keeper of the king's deer;
Fair Ellenor, she was a fair young lady,
Lord Thomas he loved her dear.
"Come, read me a riddle, dear mother," said he,
"And riddle us both as one:
Whether fair Ellen shall be mine--
Or to bring the brown girl home?"
"The brown girl she hath both houses and lands;
Fair Ellenor, she has none:
Therefore I'd advise thee, on my blessing,
To bring the brown girl home."
Then he decked himself and he dressed himself,
And his merry men, all in green:
And as he rode through the town with them
Folks took him to be some king.
When he came to fair Ellenor's bower
So boldly he did ring;
There was none so ready as fair Ellen herself
To loose Lord Thomas in.
"What news, what news, Lord Thomas,
What news have you brought unto me?"
"I'm come to invite you to my wedding;
And that is bad news for thee."
"Oh, now forbid," fair Ellenor said,
"That any such thing should be done:
For I thought to have been the bride myself,
And that you would have been the bridegroom.
"Come, read me a riddle, dear mother," said she,
"And riddle us both as one:
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or whether I shall tarry at home?"
"There's one may be thy friend, I know;
But twenty will be thy foe:
Therefore I charge thee, on my blessing,
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go."
"There's one will be my friend, I know,
Though twenty should be my foe:
Betide me life, or betide me death,
To Lord Thomas's wedding I go."
Then she went up into her chamber
And dressed herself all in green:
And when she came downstairs again,
They thought it must be some queen.
When she came to Lord Thomas's castle
So nobly she did ring:
There was none so ready as Sir Thomas himself
To loose this lady in.
Then he took her by her lily-white hand
And led her across the hall;
And he placed her on the daïs,
Above the ladies all.
"Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?
I think she looks wondrous brown:
You might have had as fair a young maiden
As ever trod English ground."
"Despise her not," said Lord Thomas;
"Despise her not unto me;
I love thy little finger, Ellen,
Better than her whole body."
The brown girl, having a knife in her hand,
Which was both keen and sharp,
Between the long ribs and the short,
She pierced fair Ellenor's heart.
"Oh, what's the matter?" Lord Thomas said,
"I think you look pale and wan:
You used to have as fine a colour
As ever the sun shone on."
"What, are you blind, now, Thomas?
Or can't you very well see?
Oh, can't you see, and oh, can't you see my own heart's blood
Run trickling down to my knee?"
Then Lord Thomas, he took the brown girl by the hand,
And led her across the hall;
And he took his own bride's head off her shoulders,
And dashed it against the wall.
Then Lord Thomas, he put the sword to the ground,
The point against his heart:
So there was an end of those three lovers,
So sadly they did part!
* * * * *
Upon fair Ellenor's grave grew a rose,
And upon Lord Thomas's a briar:
And there they twixed and there they twined, till they came to
the steeple-top;
That all the world might plainly see, true love is never forgot.
"Oh, how delightful these old ballads are!" cried Anne, as Mrs. Sanker
finished.
"Delightful!" retorted Julia Podd. "Why, they are full of queer phrases
and outrageous metre and grammar!"
"My dears, it is, I suppose, how people wrote and spoke in those old
days," said Mrs. Sanker, who had given great force to every turn of the
song, and seemed to feel its disasters as much as though she had been
fair Ellen herself.
"Just so," put in Mr. Angerstyne. "The world was not full of learning
then, as it is now, and we accept the language--ay and like it, too--as
that of a past day. To me, these old ballads are wonderful: every one
has a life's romance in it."
And that day at Holt Fleet, the only time I, Johnny Ludlow, ever saw the
place, lives in my memory as a romance now.
* * * * *
As the days went on, there could be no mistake made by the one or two of
us who kept our eyes open. I mean, as to Mr. Angerstyne's liking for
Anne Lewis, and the reciprocal feelings he had awakened. With her, it
had been a case of love at first sight; or nearly so. And that, if you
may believe the learned in the matter, is the only love deserving the
name. Perhaps it had been so with him: I don't know.
Three parts of their time they talked together in French, for Mr.
Angerstyne spoke it well. And that vexed Julia and Fanny Podd; who
called themselves good French scholars, but who somehow failed to
understand. "They talk so fast; they do it on purpose," grumbled Fanny.
At German Mr. Angerstyne was not apt. He spoke it a very little, and
Anne would laughingly correct his mistakes, and repeat the German words
slowly over, that he might catch the accent, causing us no end of fun.
That was Anne's time of day, as Fanny Podd expressed it; but when it
came to the musical evenings, Anne was nowhere. The other two shone like
stars then, and did their best to monopolize Mr. Angerstyne.
That a fine gentleman, rich, and a man of the great world, should stay
dawdling on at a boarding-house, puzzled Miss Dinah, who knew what was
what. Of course it was no business of hers; she and Mrs. Lake were only
too glad to have one who paid so liberally. He would run upstairs to sit
with Captain Bristow; and twice a week he went to Malvern, sometimes not
getting back in time for dinner.
The college school had begun again, and I was back at Lake's. For Tom
and Alfred Lake, who had been away, were at home now: and nothing would
do but I must come to their house before I went home--to which I was
daily expecting a summons. As to the bride and bridegroom, we thought
they meant to remain away for good; weeks had elapsed since their
departure. No one regretted that: Julia and Fanny Podd considered
Maythorn Bank the fag-end of the world, and hoped they might never be
called to it. And Anne, living in the Elysian Fields, did not care to
leave them for the dreary land outside their borders.