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NORSTON'S REST.
BY
MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
AUTHOR of "BERTHA'S ENGAGEMENT," "FASHION AND FAMINE," "MABEL'S
MISTAKE," "THE OLD COUNTESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY," "THE
REIGNING BELLE," "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "MARRIED IN HASTE," "THE
SOLDIER'S ORPHANS," "WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE,"
"MARY DERWENT," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," "A NOBLE WOMAN," "THE CURSE
OF GOLD," "THE GOLD BRICK," "DOUBLY FALSE," "PALACES AND
PRISONS," "THE HEIRESS," "SILENT STRUGGLES," "REJECTED WIFE,"
"BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE," "WIFE'S SECRET."
_Why did he love her? Ask the passing breeze
Why it has left the lilies in their bloom--
The great white blossoms of magnolia trees,
And jasmine flowers, that kindle up the gloom
Of Southern woods, where the vast live oak grows,
And mocking birds sing love notes to the rose.
Ask why it turned from these and lowly flew
To kiss the purple violets in their dew._
_Yes, ask the breezes;--love is like to them
In the free poising of his restless wing.
Sometimes he searches for a priceless gem,
But often takes a pebble from the spring.
To his veiled eyes the humble pebble shines
Bright as a jewel from Golconda's mines.
Expect no answer why love chooses so--
His reasons are as vague as winds that blow._
PHILADELPHIA;
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;
306 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS.
Each work is complete in one volume, 12mo.
_NORSTON'S REST._
_BERTHA'S ENGAGEMENT._
_BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE; or, Bought With A Price._
_LORD HOPE'S CHOICE; or, More Secrets Than One._
_THE OLD COUNTESS. Sequel to Lord Hope's Choice._
_A NOBLE WOMAN; or, A Gulf Between Them._
_PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile._
_WIVES AND WIDOWS; or, The Broken Life._
_RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY; or, Married By Mistake._
_FASHION AND FAMINE._
_THE CURSE OF GOLD; or, The Bound Girl and Wife's Trials._
_MABEL'S MISTAKE; or, The Lost Jewels._
_SILENT STRUGGLES; or, Barbara Stafford._
_THE WIFE'S SECRET; or, Gillian._
_THE HEIRESS; or, The Gipsy's Legacy._
_THE REJECTED WIFE; or, The Ruling Passion._
_THE OLD HOMESTEAD; or, The Pet From the Poor House._
_DOUBLY FALSE; or, Alike and Not Alike._
_THE REIGNING BELLE._
_MARRIED IN HASTE._
_THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS._
_MARY DERWENT._
_THE GOLD BRICK._
Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.
Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any one
or all of the above books, will be sent to any one, to any place,
postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers,
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
TO
MRS. GEN. WILLIAM LESLIE CAZNEAU,
OF
KEITH HALL, JAMAICA, W. I.
ONE OF
THE OLDEST AND DEAREST FRIENDS THAT I HAVE,
THIS BOOK
IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
ANN S. STEPHENS.
NEW YORK , _May 31, 1877_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. GATHERING OF THE HUNT
II. THE HILL-SIDE HOUSE
III. WAITING AND WATCHING
IV. THE SON'S RETURN
V. CONFESSING HIS LOVE
VI. CONFESSIONS OF LOVE
VII. JUDITH
VIII. WAITING FOR HIM
IX. THE NEXT NEIGHBOR
X. JEALOUS PASSIONS
XI. PROTEST AND APPEAL
XII. THE HEART STRUGGLE
XIII. ONE RASH STEP
XIV. ON THE WAY HOME
XV. THE LADY ROSE
XVI. ALONE IN THE COTTAGE
XVII. A STORMY ENCOUNTER
XVIII. AN ENCOUNTER
XIX. FATHER AND DAUGHTER
XX. THE TWO THAT LOVED HIM
XXI. BOTH HUSBAND AND FATHER
XXII. WAS IT LIFE OR DEATH?
XXIII. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH
XXIV. A FATHER'S MISGIVING
XXV. THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT
XXVI. TRUE AS STEEL
XXVII. A CRUEL DESERTION
XXVIII. THE WIFE'S VISIT
XXIX. BY MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN
XXX. THE BARMAID OF THE TWO RAVENS
XXXI. THE OLD LAKE HOUSE
XXXII. THE NEW LEASE
XXXIII. SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH
XXXIV. THE SICK MAN WRITES A LETTER
XXXV. WITH THE HOUSEKEEPER
XXXVI. UNDER THE IVY
XXXVII. A STORM AT THE TWO RAVENS
XXXVIII. A PRESENT FROM THE FAIR
XXXIX. A WILD-FLOWER OFFERING
XL. SEEKING A PLACE
XLI. THE FATHER'S SICK-ROOM
XLII. PROFFERED SERVICES
XLIII. THE LOST LETTER
XLIV. THE HOUSEKEEPER'S VISIT
XLV. EXCELLENT ADVICE
XLVI. THE SERPENT IN HER PATH
XLVII. NIGHT ON THE BALCONY
XLVIII. WATCHING HER RIVAL
XLIX. BROODING THOUGHTS
L. YOUNG HURST AND LADY ROSE
LI. THE GODMOTHER'S MISTAKE
LII. SITTING AT THE WINDOW
LIII. DEATH
LIV. THE GARDENER'S FUNERAL
LV. SEARCHING A HOUSE
LVI. A MOTHER'S HOPEFULNESS
LVII. WAITING AT THE LAKE HOUSE
LVIII. SIR NOEL'S VISITOR
LIX. PLEADING FOR DELAY
LX. LOVE AND HATE
LXI. HUNTED DOWN
LXII. STORMS AND LADY ROSE
LXIII. THE PRICE OF A LIFE
LXIV. JUDITH'S RETURN
LXV. ON THE PRECIPICE
LXVI. SIR NOEL AND RUTH
LXVII. SHOWING THE WAY
LXVIII. FORSAKING HER HOME
LXIX. THE SOUL'S DANGER
LXX. ON THE TRAIN
LXXI. THE SPIDER'S WEB
LXXII. THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE
LXXIII. SEARCHING THE LAKE HOUSE
LXXIV. COMING HOME
NORSTON'S REST.
CHAPTER I.
GATHERING OF THE HUNT.
In the highest grounds of a park, almost an estate in itself, stood
one of those noble old mansions that are so interwoven with the
history of mother England, that their architecture alone is a record
of national stability and ever-increasing civilization, written out in
the strength of stone and the beauty of sculpture. This building,
however grand in historical associations, was more especially the
monument of one proud race, the Hursts of "Norston's Rest."
Generation after generation the Hursts had succeeded in unbroken
descent to "The Rest" and its vast estates since the first foundation
stone was laid, and that was so long ago that its present incumbent,
Sir Noel Hurst, would have smiled in derision had the Queen offered to
exchange his title for that of a modern duke.
Sir Noel might well be proud of his residence, which, like its owners,
had kept pace with the progress of art and the discoveries of science
known to the passing generations; for each had contributed something
to its gradual construction, since the first rough tower was built
with the drawbridge and battlements of feudal times, to the present
imposing structure, where sheets of plate glass took the place of
arrow slits, and the lace-work of sculpture was frozen into stone upon
its walls.
This glorious old park, like the mansion it surrounded, brought much
of its antique beauty from the dead ages. Druid stones were to be
found beneath its hoary old oaks. Its outer verge was wild as an
American forest, and there one small lake of deep and inky blackness
scarcely felt a gleam of sunshine from month to month. But nearer the
old mansion this wilderness was turned into an Eden: lawns of velvet
grass--groves where the sunshine shone through the bolls of the trees,
turning the grass under them to gold--lakes starred half the summer
with the snow of water-lilies--rose gardens that gave a rare sweetness
to the passing wind--shadowy bridle-paths and crystal streams spanned
by stone bridges--all might be seen or guessed at from the broad
terrace that fronted the mansion.
Here all was light gayety and pleasant confusion. Sir Noel had many
guests in the house, and they were all out upon the terrace, forming a
picture of English life such as no country on earth can exhibit with
equal perfection.
It was the first day of the hunt, and the gay inmates of the house
were out in the bright freshness of the morning, prepared for a
glorious run with the hounds. The gentlemen brilliant in scarlet, the
ladies half rivalling them in masculine hats, but softening the effect
with gossamer veils wound scarf-like around them, and a graceful flow
of dark drapery.
Beneath, breaking up the gravel of the carriage road with many an
impatient hoof, was a crowd of grooms holding slender-limbed horses,
whose coats shone like satin, when the sun touched them, while their
hoofs smote the gravel like the restless feet of gipsy dancing-girls
when a thrill of music stirs the blood.
Further on keepers were scattered about, some looking admiringly at
the brilliant picture before them, others holding back fiery young
dogs, wild for a run with their companions of the kennel.
Gradually the light laughter and cheerful badinage passing on the
terrace died into the silence of expectation. The party was evidently
incomplete. Sir Noel was there in his usual dress, speaking with
polite composure, but casting an anxious look now and then into the
open doors of the hall.
Some fair lady was evidently waited for who was to ride the chestnut
horse drawn up nearest the steps, where he was tossing his head with
an impatience that half lifted the groom from his feet when he
attempted to restrain the reckless action.
It was the Lady Rose, a distant relative of Sir Noel's, who had been
her guardian from childhood, and now delighted to consider her
mistress of "The Rest," a position he fondly hoped she might fill for
life.
Sir Noel came forward as she appeared, and for a moment the two stood
together, contrasted by years, but alike in the embodiment of
patrician elegance. She in the bloom and loveliness of her youth: he
in that exquisite refinement which had been his inheritance through a
long line of cultivated and honorable ancestry. Turning from Sir Noel,
Lady Rose apologized to his guests, and with a winning smile, besought
their forgiveness for her tardy appearance.
That moment a young man, who had been giving some orders to the
grooms, came up the steps and approached the lady.
"Have you become impatient?" she said, blushing a little. "I am so
grieved!"
The young man smiled, as he gave her a fitting answer. Then you saw at
once the relationship that he held with Sir Noel. It was evident, not
only in the finely cut features, but in the dignified quietude of
manner that marked them both.
"Mack has no idea of good breeding, and is getting fiercely
impatient," he said, glancing down at the chestnut horse.
Lady Rose cast a bright smile upon her guests.
"Ladies, do not let me keep you waiting."
There was a general movement toward the steps, but the young lady
turned to Sir Noel again.
"Dear uncle, I wish you were going. I remember you in hunting-dress
when I was a little girl."
"But I have grown old since then," answered the baronet, with a faint
smile.
"This is my first day, and I shall be almost afraid without you," she
pleaded.
The baronet smiled, shook his head, and glanced at his son.
"You will have younger and better care," he said.
The young man understood this as a request that he should take
especial care of his cousin, for such the lady was in a remote degree,
and for an instant seemed to hesitate. Lady Rose saw this, and, with a
hot flush on her face, ran down the steps.
Young Hurst was by her side in a second, but she sprang to the saddle,
scarcely touching his proffered hand with her foot; then wheeled the
chestnut on one side, and waited for the rest to mount.
Down came the party, filling the broad stairway with shifting colors,
chatting, laughing, and occasionally giving out little affected
screams, as one fell short of the saddle, or endangered her seat by a
too vigorous leap; but all this only added glee to the occasion, and a
gayer party than that never left the portal of "Norston's Rest" even
in the good old hawking days of long ago.
Young Hurst took his place by the side of Lady Rose, and was about to
lead the cavalcade down the broad avenue, which swept through more
than a mile of the park before it reached the principal entrance gate,
but instantly there arose a clamor of feminine opposition.
"Not that way! It would lead them in the wrong direction; let them
take a run through the park. They would have rougher riding than that
before the day was over."
Young Hurst seemed disturbed by this proposal; he even ventured to
expostulate with his father's guests. "The park was rough in places,"
he said, "and the side entrance narrow for so large a party."
His argument was answered by a merry laugh. The ladies turned their
horses defiantly, and a cloud of red coats followed them. Away to the
right the whole cavalcade took its way where the sun poured its golden
streams on the turf under the trees, or scattered itself among the
leaves of the hoary old oaks that in places grew dangerously close
together.
As they drew toward that portion of the park known as "The
Wilderness," a wonderfully pretty picture arrested the swift progress
of the party, and the whole cavalcade moved more slowly as it came
opposite a small rustic cottage of stone, old, moss-grown, and
picturesque, wherever its hoary walls could be seen, through masses of
ivy and climbing roses. One oriel window was discovered through the
white jasmine that clustered around it, and the verbenas, heliotrope,
and scarlet geraniums that crept beneath it from the ground.
The vast park, in whose deepest and coolest verdure this little
dwelling stood, was like a world in itself; but through the noble old
trees the stately mansion-house they had left could be seen in
glimpses from this more humble dwelling. This stood on the edge of a
ravine, left in all its ferny wildness, through which a stream of
crystal water leaped and sparkled, and sent back soft liquid murmurs,
as it flowed down in shadows, or leaped in bright cascades to a lake
that lay in the wildest and lowest depths of the park, as yet
invisible. Young Hurst had urged his horse forward when he came in
sight of this wood-nest, and an angry flush swept over his face when
the party slackened its speed to a walk, and for an instant stopped
altogether, as it came in front of the rustic porch; for there, as if
startled by the sudden rush of hoofs, stood a young girl, framed in by
the ivy and jasmine. She had one foot on the threshold of the door,
and was looking back over her left shoulder, as if held in that
charming attitude by a sudden impulse of curiosity while she was
retreating. Two or three exclamations broke from the gentlemen, who
were taken by surprise by this beautiful picture; for in her pose, in
the dark frightened eyes, and the warm coloring of face and garments,
the girl was a wonder of picturesque beauty.
"Who is she? Where did the pretty gipsy come from?" questioned one of
the gentlemen nearest to Hurst. "Upon my word, she hardly seems
real."
"She is the daughter of my father's gardener," said Hurst, lifting his
hunting-cap as the girl's eyes sought him out in her sudden panic.
"Shall we ride on, gentlemen? Our presence seems to disturb her."
"Is it true? Is the pretty thing only a gardener's child?" questioned
one of the ladies, drawing close to Lady Rose.
"She certainly is only that," was the low, almost forced answer. "We
have always thought her pretty, and she is certainly good."
Hurst heard this and turned a grateful look upon the fair girl. She
saw it, and for an instant the color left her face. Then she touched
her horse, and the cavalcade dashed after her through the depths of
the park and into the open country, where the hounds were to meet, all
feeling in a different way that there was some mystery in the living
picture they had admired.