THE HEIRESS.
Glanyravon Park lay, as we have said, in the parish of which Mr Jonathan
Prothero was vicar, but as the parish and park were large, the house was
three or four miles from the church; and it was on account of this
distance of Glanyravon and its dependencies from church and school, that
Miss Gwynne had induced her father to build the school-house, of which
mention has been already made, since there was a large school in the
village for such children as were within its reach. She would have had
him build a small church also, and endow it, to remove all excuse, as
she said, from the chapel-goers; but this was an undertaking too mighty
for him. However, the school flourished wonderfully, both on week days
and Sundays, and Miss Gwynne always filled every corner of an omnibus in
which the servants went to church with such of the children as could not
walk so far. Miss Hall was an admirable assistant to the school-mistress
during the week; and Gladys, with Mrs Prothero's permission, undertook
the Sunday duty for the mistress, in order that she might have a holiday
on that day. Miss Gwynne also attended, but she was too impatient and
imperious to be a good teacher, much as she wished to be one.
Miss Gwynne had great ideas of doing good; grand schemes that she tried
to carry out, but in which she often failed. Nevertheless, she did a
great deal of good in her own peculiar way.
She had been reading of the 'harvest homes' that they were endeavouring
to revive in England, and had induced her father to have one in the
park. Happily, the day fixed for this general rejoicing was during Mrs
Prothero's convalescence, and before Rowland's return to London, so that
most of the members of the Prothero family could be present. They also
yielded to Miss Gwynne's ready assistance in such preparations as she
made, and were the instruments in surprising her and her father by some
tasteful decorations in their honour, unknown to them. Owen and Gladys
worked very hard at floral and evergreen mottoes for the tent, whilst
Rowland gave his advice as he sat with his mother, and tried to amuse
her during the tedium of her recovery.
A few hours before the general gathering, a messenger arrived at the
Park in great haste, bearing a note to Miss Gwynne, containing the
information that the vicar had sprained his ankle just as he was going
to set out for Glanyravon, and was unable to move. There was another
note for Rowland, which was to be carried on to the farm, requesting him
to supply his uncle's place.
Miss Gwynne was greatly annoyed; wished that the vicar would not go
wandering about after old stones, as she was sure he had done; knew that
Rowland would never be able to manage and was very sorry she had
attempted the treat at all.
Whilst she was still grumbling, and Miss Hall laughing and consoling,
Rowland arrived. This was his first visit to the Park since he had been
in the country, and Mr Gwynne was delighted to see him. He perceived at
once that Miss Gwynne's equanimity was disturbed; and said that he was
very sorry to come as a substitute for his uncle, but that he would do
his best. His manner was so quiet and composed, and he seemed so little
alarmed by the honours thrust upon him, that Miss Gwynne gradually
became reassured.
In less than half-an-hour she told Miss Hall that he was worth a hundred
of the vicar, and that after all the sprained ankle was rather a
fortunate accident.
At about two o'clock the guests began to assemble at the school-house,
over the door of which was the motto in dahlias on a ground of
evergreens, 'Welcome for all,' which had been arranged by Miss Hall. The
school-room was very tastefully decorated by the mistress, Gladys, and
the children; and the motto, 'Long Live Miss Gwynne,' was very apparent
in scarlet letters amongst a crown of laurels.
All the children and their teachers were assembled here, and a great
many of their relations, also most of the farmers and their families. In
addition, there were Mr and Miss Gwynne, Miss Hall, Lady Mary and Miss
Nugent, Colonel Vaughan, who was staying at the Park, Sir Hugh Pryse,
Mrs Jonathan Prothero, who left her husband at his particular request,
and Rowland. No one out of the precincts of the Park had been invited,
and as it was, there was a goodly number.
As there was no church near enough for them to go to, Rowland read the
evening service in the school-room; after this he gave out one of the
hymns for harvest, and led the youthful band in singing it. His fine
clear voice seemed to give the children courage, especially when a
beautiful full treble joined, to which they were evidently accustomed.
It was impossible not to try to discover from whom those sweet notes
proceeded, and one by one everybody looked at Gladys, who had a
magnificent voice; she, however, was unconscious of observation, for her
eyes were fixed on her hymn-book that she was sharing with a small
child.
It must be acknowledged that she not unfrequently distracted the
attention of many a young man from his hymn-book on Sunday, when at
church; and on the present occasion, what with the face and the voice,
more than one pair of eyes were fixed on her. Owen, I am sorry to say,
looked more attentively at her than at his book; and, as to Colonel
Vaughan, he never took his eyes off her face, and was heard to whisper
the question of 'Who is that girl?' to Lady Mary Nugent.
When the hymn was sung, Rowland stood behind the high desk of the
mistress, and gave a short lecture on the words, 'Thou crownest the year
with thy goodness.' Rowland was not ungifted with the talent for
extempore preaching, common to so many of his countrymen, and therewith
possessed, in general, much self-possession; on the present occasion, it
must be confessed that he felt unusually nervous, still he commanded
himself and his feelings, and by degrees, forgetting them and his
hearers, in his subject, warmed into a natural flow of eloquence that
somewhat astonished his congregation, and entirely gained their
attention.
Beneath a quiet exterior Rowland hid a romantic and poetic mind, which
few, if any of his friends knew anything about; for he had never shown
his poetry to them, and never attempted to publish it. But it sometimes
appeared, in spite of his efforts to repress it, in his sermons; and now
it made a desperate effort to burst forth, and conquered.
There was so much to excite the enthusiasm of a young preacher in that
harvest-home gathering--in the mows of golden corn heaped up against the
future--in the splendid autumn weather they were then enjoying--in the
bright sunshine and many-hued leaves of the changing trees--and the
goodness of God crowning the whole!
I am not going through his sermon, for I should only mar what his
feelings made powerful. Suffice it to say that some of his friends had
tears in their eyes as he preached; others, according to the custom of
their country, uttered occasional exclamations of approval as he went
on, and some were glad to own him as their near and dear relation.
Perhaps the proudest moment of the farmer's life was when Mr Gwynne went
up to him after that short discourse, and shook him by the hand, with
the words--emphatic words for him--
'Well, Prothero, I congratulate you upon your son. You have reason to be
proud of him. He managed his sermon well at a short notice, clear,
poetical, etc., and all that sort of thing.'
The abrupt termination to the speech was occasioned by the approach of
Lady Mary Nugent, who also congratulated Mr Prothero.
'Thank you, sir; thank your ladyship; glad you approve,' was all the
proud father could say, with the tears in his eyes all the while.
As to Rowland, he was undergoing an ovation of hand-shakings and praises
from everybody present, which he was fain to put an end to, by beginning
to organise the procession to the tent. One simple sentence, however,
rang in his ears for the remainder of that day.
'Thank you, Mr Rowland, for your sermon. I hope you have done us all
good,' said Miss Gwynne.
She began to think more highly of him than she had ever thought before,
and owned to Miss Hall that he had words at command, and that at a short
notice.
The procession was very pretty. The school-children walked two and two,
and looked like so many large scarlet poppies, as they wended their way
through the avenue. Miss Gwynne gave them all their outer garments, and
it was her picturesque and pleasing fancy to keep to the national
costume; so they had high-crowned black beaver hats, scarlet cloaks with
hoods, striped linsey frocks, and woollen aprons. They carried a due
amount of little flags with appropriate mottoes, and some few of the
Glanyravon musicians formed a band for the occasion, and played
cheerily, 'The March of the Men of Harlech.'
Mr Prothero and his son Owen headed the tenantry, and carried between
them a magnificent banner, fashioned at the farm, bearing as motto,
'Prosperity to Glanyravon.' Others followed with appropriate Welsh
mottoes. And one was conspicuous as containing the sentiment, 'Long live
our Vicar and his Lady.'
A large tent was erected in front of the house, ornamented with flowers,
wreaths of evergreens, devices, and mottoes. The most conspicuous of
these was in Welsh, and above Mr Gwynne's seat at the head of the long
table. It was composed of wheat-ears and oak-leaves, and contained the
words, 'May God bless Gwynne of Glanyravon and his daughter.' Mr Gwynne
felt almost uncomfortable in seating himself beneath such a sentence,
but having consented for the first time in his life, and, he earnestly
hoped, for the last, to become a hero, he knew he must go through with
it. Accordingly, with Colonel Vaughan on his left, and Lady Mary Nugent
on his right hand he prepared to do the honours of a most substantial
feast to his tenantry, their wives and children. When every one was
seated Rowland said grace, and they began the feast _con amore_. They
were as merry and happy a party as could be assembled on a fine autumn
day. Every one was in good humour, and thoroughly enjoyed the treat. As
soon as they had feasted enough, they proceeded to give toasts, which
were enthusiastically drunk in good Welsh ale.
Mr Gwynne proposed the health of the Queen and royal family. Sir Hugh
proposed Mr Gwynne and his daughter, the kind and liberal donors of the
feast, in a hearty speech, which all understood. Mr Gwynne did his best
to return thanks, but found that he could not get much beyond,--'I feel
most grateful for the honour you have done me, but--my
feelings--been--and--and--all that sort of thing,' at which point the
cheers grew so deafening that he sat down quite overwhelmed, and wished
himself in his library.
'So very exciting, so complimentary, so touching,' whispered Lady Mary
Nugent to Mr Gwynne.
Rowland was again called upon to exert his eloquence in responding for
the Church, which he did in a short, apt speech, duly applauded.
He, in return, proposed the army, coupled with Colonel Vaughan,
who--and, he said, he knew he was expressing the thoughts of all
present--was heartily welcomed home, and earnestly entreated to remain
in his native country.
Colonel Vaughan delighted every one by a most eloquent response. 'Such a
grand gentleman, but so humble,' was the general opinion of him. As for
the ladies, they were all in love with him. Lady Mary Nugent, Freda,
Miss Nugent--they had never seen so charming a man. And he was so
universally gallant that he might have been in love with them all in
return. He gave the 'Welsh Yeomanry,' for whom Mr Prothero returned
thanks, and right well he did it; giving the colonel to understand in
something more than a hint, that if he wished the farmers and farming to
improve, he, and other absent landlords, must come and live on their
property as Mr Gwynne did, and then there would be more wealth and
prosperity, and more 'harvest homes.'
And so, with various other toasts, including the vicar and his lady, for
whom Owen had to return thanks, the afternoon wore on. The children were
playing at games in the Park, and by degrees the elders joined them.
Here Gladys was foremost. It was wonderful to see how she had gained the
affections of the young. One and all were round her, and when the
gentlemen and ladies came to look on, and join in the revels, the first
thing that attracted them was the flushed face and graceful figure of
this really beautiful girl, as she led the boisterous youngsters in a
game of 'French and English.'
In a moment Colonel Vaughan was in the ring heading the boys; but Gladys
immediately retired, abashed, as he stood opposite to her, as captain on
the French side. But Owen came to the rescue, and the gallant officer
and equally gallant sailor headed the ranks, as commanders of the bands
of French and English. They had a hard fight on both sides, but at last
the English conquered, and Owen and his party won the day amidst great
cheering.
Sir Hugh and Rowland joined in the succeeding games; and sixpences,
sweetmeats, apples, and every available prize was given to the boys and
girls for racing, jumping, singing, and the like, until the shades of
evening fell over the scene.
Lady Mary Nugent and her daughter were the first to wish good-night; as
they were to walk home, Colonel Vaughan proposed accompanying them.
'You will return at once?' asked Freda, rather peremptorily, for she
disliked that the Nugents should carry off the all-fascinating colonel.
He bowed and said 'yes,' and Rowland, who was near, saw Freda's cheek
flush as he looked at her.
It chanced that Rowland and Miss Gwynne were left together at a distance
from the revel. They stood awhile, looking on, and talking over the day.
Rowland said it had been most successful. Indeed he felt that all had
been pleased; none more than himself, for had not everyone congratulated
him, and above all, had not Miss Gwynne been even kinder and more
friendly, than when by his mother's bed side she had seemed to him as a
sister?
'If it has been successful, Mr Rowland, it is in a great measure due to
you,' said Miss Gwynne, looking up into his face with a smile of real
satisfaction. 'I should never have managed the children so well, and I
must say, much as I like your uncle, I don't think he would have managed
the services so well as you have done.'
Reader! were you ever praised by a very handsome woman, whom you have
loved all your life, when standing with her alone under a wide-spreading
oak, in a noble park, with mountains bathed in the red and yellow of the
sunset before you, and a broad harvest-moon rising above your heads? If
so, you will not wonder at the end of this chapter.
Rowland suddenly fixed his fine, dark eyes upon Freda's face, and looked
into it, as if he would read her soul. For a moment she was abashed at
the gaze, and coloured deeply, whilst her eye-lids drooped over the eyes
he sought. Was there ever a woman who was not flattered and excited by
such a look?
'Miss Gwynne,' at last said Rowland tremulously, 'if in any way I can
have served and pleased you I am happy. For this, in part, I have
laboured, and still would labour. You do not, you cannot know how I have
loved you all my life.'
Poor Rowland almost whispered these few words, and as he did so, wished
he could recall them, but now the deed was done, and she knew the secret
of his childhood, boyhood, and manhood. He said no more, but stood
looking down upon her with his heart beating as it had never beaten
before.
Higher and higher rose the colour on her cheek. What were the feelings
that deepened it so? Alas! poor Rowland! Pride, only pride. For a moment
she stood as if hesitating what to say, then, suddenly drawing herself
up to her full height, she looked haughtily at him, and said words that
he never forgot to his dying day.
'Mr Rowland Prothero, have you quite forgotten who I am, and who you
are?'
With these words she made a stately bow, and turned towards the house.
Proudly and hastily she walked up the avenue; once she had turned round,
and seeing Rowland standing exactly where she had left him, hurried on
until she found herself in her own room, indulging in a very decided
flood of indignant tears.