LOOKING BACK.
A few miles from Meadow Farm, the birthplace of Edward Armstrong, stood
a nobleman's mansion, which in spite of modern alterations and
adornments, gave numerous proofs of its antiquity. The building formed
three sides of a square, the fourth enclosed by iron railings and a
curiously carved gate, gilded escutcheons and coats of arms forming its
chief ornaments. The house stood on the brow of a hill, looking across
the town of Basingstoke, which lay beneath it at a distance of a few
miles.
A streamlet, issuing in little rills from springs on the summit of the
ascent, fell in tiny cascades through woody glens and artificial
grottoes till it approached the house. Here it formed a miniature lake
on which the majestic swans sailed in stately pride. Continuing its
course, it passed under a rustic bridge, a limpid stream, in which the
speckled trout sported, fearless of the angler's line, beneath the
shadow of lofty elms or gracefully bending willows.
Within, the house was equally attractive. A large hall occupied the
centre of the building, its lofty dimensions reaching to the roof, and
lighted by tall narrow windows which faced the entrance gates. From this
hall, doors and a noble staircase led to other apartments, the
dining-room and drawing-room occupying a similar space at the back. In
the former room, a few days after the marriage of Arthur Franklyn to
Fanny Halford, a family party were assembled at breakfast. From a deep
oriel window, with its lattice and diamond panes open to the sweet
perfumed air of spring, could be seen, not only gardens, shrubberies,
and a richly wooded park, but a distant prospect of hill and valley,
field and meadow, equalled, no doubt, but not often surpassed in our
fertile island.
The furniture of the room, though suited to its antique architecture,
wore an appearance of brightness which the light though simple morning
attire of some of its occupants greatly increased.
The party consisted of three ladies, a gentleman in the prime of life,
and a youth of sixteen. The eldest of the ladies, though pale and
delicate, appeared almost too youthful to be the mother of the two girls
of seventeen and nineteen who sat at the table by her side.
The younger of them had the _Times_ newspaper in her hand, and appeared
to be deeply engaged in examining its first column. The elder presided
at the breakfast-table.
"Well, Dora," said her father, "what have you found in the paper
interesting enough to make you oblivious to the fact that your breakfast
is getting cold?"
"Why, papa," she replied, laughing, "I am not particularly interested,
but puzzled with the advertisement of a wedding. The house of the
bride's father has the same name as ours,--at least, not exactly; but
listen, papa.
"'On the 6th instant, at the parish church, Kilburn, Arthur Leigh
Franklyn, Esq., solicitor, of Clement's Inn, London, and Brook House,
Clapton, to Frances Clara, only daughter of Dr. Halford, Englefield
Grange, Kilburn.'"
"Halford's daughter married!" exclaimed the earl, for such he was;
"truly indeed time flies: it seems but the other day that he and I were
travelling together on the Continent, and studying men and manners."
"Oh, papa, I remember now. Dr. Halford was your tutor. I thought I had
heard the name; but how came his house to be called Englefield Grange?"
"A liberty rather, I should say," remarked the young heir to the title
and estate, Lord Robert, Viscount Woodville.
"My _friend_ James Halford," said Earl Rivers, with a stress upon the
word, "intended it as a compliment, Robert, yet he waited for my
father's permission before he named his house Englefield Grange. My
conscience smites me for having neglected him so long. I must pay them a
visit this season while we are in London."
"I have heard your mother speak of Dr. Halford," said Lady Rivers; "did
he not marry your sister's governess?"
"Yes, Clara Marston. Why, it must be two or three and twenty years ago.
They lived at Bayswater for some time after their marriage, but I have
seen nothing of them since they removed to Kilburn."
"And this daughter, papa," said Lady Dora, "did you ever see her?"
"Well, my dear, I have some recollection of a little dark-eyed girl
named Fanny, to whom I was introduced in one of my visits at Bayswater.
She was then, I should say, about eight years old, and the Halfords have
resided nearly eleven years at Kilburn."
"If the little girl was named Fanny, papa, she must be the same who has
just married, for the name in the paper is Frances. Oh yes," added Lady
Dora, after another glance at the _Times_, "and it says only daughter,
so this must be the bride."
"You appear greatly interested in this young married lady, my dear,"
said her father.
Lady Dora blushed. Her interest was only that of girls of seventeen in
all ranks of society about brides in general, and one in particular if
her age, parentage, and antecedents are known. "I think I am interested
now," replied the young lady, "because you knew the bride when she was a
little girl, and her father was your tutor; but the name of Englefield
first attracted me in the newspaper. Papa," she continued after a slight
pause, during which no one spoke, "Englefield is a strange title for any
house, especially such a beautiful estate as this. Do you know how it
originated?"
"From nothing very mysterious or romantic," said her father,
laughing,--"at least, none that I ever heard of. According to the
etymology of the word, however, we ought to be descended from the
gipsies, for Engle is evidently derived from the old Saxon word Ingle,
which signifies a hearth or chimney corner. Ingle or Engle in a field,
as the name of this estate implies, must denote a cosy, homelike
fireplace, in a meadow or on a common, such as only gipsies can invent.
But you must decide upon this matter yourself, Dora," continued the
earl, as he rose and looked at his watch; "I have no time for farther
discussion upon the origin of a name which belonged to this estate more
than four hundred years ago."
"How very absurd you are, Dora!" said her elder sister, when the earl
had left the room, "just as if it mattered to us what originated the
name of an estate which has descended to papa through so many
generations. And why you should be interested about the marriage of a
schoolmaster's daughter I cannot imagine."
"A schoolmaster's daughter!" repeated Lady Dora, "I did not know Dr.
Halford kept a school."
"He does, my dear," said Lady Rivers, gently, "but Dr. Halford and his
wife are truly well-bred people, and their profession has never lessened
the respect and kind interest with which both your father and
grandfather have always treated them."
Lady Mary Woodville shrugged her shoulders; she had been a frequent
visitor at her grandmother's, the Dowager Lady Rivers, and this lady's
influence and opinions had fostered in the heart of Lady Mary her
natural pride of birth, and a foolish contempt for those who had to work
for their living.
"You have not much to boast of, Mary," said her brother, laughing, as he
rose from his seat and approached the window, "if, as papa suggests, we
are descended from the gipsies."
"What nonsense you talk, Robert!" replied his sister.
"Well, perhaps I ought to have addressed you, Dora, instead of Mary, for
with your brown face and your flashing black eyes you are an out-and-out
little gipsy;" but as the youth spoke, his glance of affection too
plainly proved that the "little gipsy" was a favourite sister.
"I am like papa, Robert," she replied, good-naturedly.
"Of course you are, my dear," said Lady Rivers, "and he has nothing of
the gipsy about him; but do not waste time in talking nonsense.--Robert,
I thought you asked Dora to ride with you this morning, and the sooner
you order the horses the better, for this bright April weather may not
continue all day."
Lord Robert hastened to follow his mother's advice, while Lady Dora
gladly escaped from the room to prepare for her ride.
This little peep into the domestic habits and manners of the family at
Englefield will give our readers some idea of the pleasant home in which
James Halford met his future wife, Clara Marston, in the years gone by.
The present Earl Rivers, who had been Dr. Halford's pupil for three
years from the age of twenty-one, had reached his forty-fifth year at
the time of which we write. Well might Lady Rivers assert that there was
nothing of the gipsy in his appearance, in spite of the dark eyes and
hair in which, as well as in features, his youngest daughter so strongly
resembled him. Lord Rivers' tall, commanding figure, noble bearing, and
marked features belonged to the class which an Englishman designates
aristocratic. Yet he had no proud assumption of superiority on this
account. Although polished and refined, and a true English gentleman of
the olden times, his manners were simple and unobtrusive; and now, as he
rides his horse slowly through the park and along the road to the
station, he recalls with pain the fact that he has neglected his friend
Dr. Halford long enough for his little daughter Fanny, whose marriage is
in the _Times_, to grow to womanhood and become a bride.
"I will pay them a visit next week," was his decision at length, as he
put his horse into a canter.
April had fulfilled its proverbial destiny. It had passed away in
"showers" and sunshine, leaving behind as its trophies the "May flowers"
which were to gladden the earth with their beauty and fragrance in this
the first summer month of the year.
One morning, while Kate Marston was busy in one of the rooms overlooking
the road, she saw a gentleman on horseback stop at the gate and alight.
She heard the peal of the gate bell, and then the question to the
man-servant who answered it--
"Is Dr. Halford at home?"
The next moment the tall figure of a stranger to Kate approached the
house, and she could hear the footsteps ascending the stairs to the
drawing-room.
"Some gentleman about pupils," said Kate to herself, as she returned to
her occupation. Yet she could not get rid of the idea that the visitor
was not exactly of the same stamp as those who generally presented
themselves at Englefield Grange.
Meanwhile Dr. Halford's man-servant had placed a card in his master's
hand which made him rise hastily from his desk, leave the schoolroom to
the care of the assistants, and hasten upstairs to welcome his visitor.
As the two gentlemen shook hands, so many recollections of the past
thronged to their memories that neither for a moment could utter a word.
Lord Rivers recovered himself first.
"Doctor," he said, the old familiar title coming naturally to his lips,
"I am positively ashamed to meet you again after so many years of
neglect, but here I am at last, to plead for myself, and ask you and
your wife to forgive me."
"Lord Rivers," replied Dr. Halford, "there is nothing to forgive. I know
too well what the demands upon the time of a man in your position must
be, and my old pupil will always be welcome at Englefield Grange;" and
as the gentleman spoke he placed a chair for his visitor and begged him
to be seated.
"And this is the house you have named after Englefield," said the earl.
"Well, it is a charming spot; and what a splendid prospect from that
window!" he added, rising and approaching to obtain a more extended
view. "I feel myself honoured by your choice of a name for such a
residence."
"It can scarcely be called an honour," said the doctor, "but this house
is a great improvement upon the one at Bayswater; do you remember it,
Lord Rivers?"
"Indeed I do, to my regret. My last visit there must be nearly ten years
ago, and that reminds me--I will make my confession at once--I saw in
the _Times_ of last week a notice of the marriage of your only daughter.
I suppose the little Fanny I met at my last visit. The name of
Englefield Grange attracted my youngest daughter's notice, and when she
pointed it out to me I felt inclined to say, like the chief butler in
Pharaoh's court, 'I do remember my faults this day.'"
"My dear Lord Rivers," began Dr. Halford, but the visitor stopped him.
"I will not say another word on the subject, doctor. And now tell me all
about your daughter; whom she has married, and how many sons you have.
And one question I should have asked first--how is Mrs. Halford? I must
not go away without seeing her."
Dr. Halford was at this time fourteen years younger than on the day when
Mrs. Armstrong called upon him to arrange about her little boy; a man
still in the prime of life, scarcely ten years older than his late
pupil, yet the parting with his only daughter had sprinkled the first
grey streaks in his dark hair, and already aged him in appearance. Lord
Rivers had brought to his memory the occasion to which his lordship had
referred. On that last visit at Bayswater, Fanny, the eldest, had not
been the _only_ girl: his family consisted then of five children; four
of these he had lost during a few succeeding years, and of the two boys
born since, his son Henry alone survived.
The bereaved father felt that while the loss of his daughter Fanny was
such a recent event he must nerve himself before he could call up old
memories to enlighten his kind visitor.
Lord Rivers, he knew, was actuated by the kindest interest in
questioning him on the past, and the earl's present ideas about Fanny's
marriage were formed on the supposition that it was a matter for
congratulation, and a time of joyful hopes. All this was evident to Dr.
Halford, and he gladly seized upon the opportunity offered by the
mention of Mrs. Halford's name to say--
"Lord Rivers, you will stay and lunch with us in our plain simple way;
you must not refuse, indeed you must not, for the sake of olden times,"
he added quickly, as he noticed a look of hesitation in his friend's
face.
"I do not mean to refuse," said his lordship, "but I was thinking about
the horses and my groom; if he could be told to take them to the inn for
an hour or so, and get provender for them and himself, I will gladly
remain with you to lunch."
Glad of an excuse to leave the room and tell Mrs. Halford of the
arrival, Dr. Halford, with a hasty apology and a promise to send the
order of Lord Rivers to the groom, left the gentleman to himself.
But Mrs. Halford, the Clara Marston of olden times, was more calm and
self-possessed in cases of emergency than her erudite husband. She had
heard from Kate of the arrival of a gentleman on horseback, and from
Thomas the name on the card.
Giving orders at once for lunch to be prepared in the private
dining-room, she made some trifling addition to her dress, and waited
for a summons from her husband.
As he left the drawing-room she met him on the stairs.
"Lord Rivers is here, Clara," was his flurried remark.
"I know it, my dear; everything is ready. Whither are you going?"
"To send Thomas out to the groom about the horses. You go up to the
visitor; he is going to lunch with us."
"Do not be long," she said, as she continued her way upstairs and
entered the room.
Lord Rivers started forward with pleasure to receive her, and in a very
few minutes they were talking eagerly of old times at Englefield, when
the earl, then Lord Woodville, a youth in his teens, had been sometimes
a troublesome intruder on the school hours or music and drawing lessons
of his two young sisters, Miss Marston's pupils.
Presently Dr. Halford joined them; he was more able to touch upon family
sorrows with his wife for an ally, and a great amount of the sad part of
the details was got over before the summons to lunch.
In one point, however, Lord Rivers did some real good.
Dr. Halford was expressing a kind of mournful regret that his daughter's
marriage should take her so far away from home, when Lord Rivers
interrupted him.
"My dear doctor, you are not keeping pace with the times. In the present
day a voyage to Australia is not more distant as regards time than
America or even the Mediterranean in years gone by. And the wonderful
facility of communication by post unites friends personally separated by
thousands of miles as closely in these days of rapid travelling as those
who a hundred years ago merely occupied different parts of our own
little island."
"Very true," replied Dr. Halford, "yet, still----" and he paused.
"Not satisfied yet?" exclaimed Lord Rivers, cheeringly, as they
descended to the dining-room. "Are you more hopeful about your daughter,
Mrs. Halford?"
"I am getting more reconciled to her loss," was the reply, "and perhaps
in time the interchange of letters and news of Fanny's happiness will
complete the cure."
During luncheon the conversation became more cheerful, and Lord Rivers
was about to express his regret that he must leave such pleasant
society, when the door opened and a little blue-eyed boy of about eight
years old entered the room.
"Ah," exclaimed the visitor, "this is your youngest child, doctor, I
suppose, of whom you were speaking just now.--Come here, my little man,
and shake hands with papa's friend."
The boy advanced fearlessly and placed his little hand in that of his
father's old pupil, while he looked in the face of Lord Rivers with
bright, intelligent eyes, and that peculiar smile which even in
childhood added such a charm to the face of Henry Halford.
"My only boy, Henry, and my only child now, I may say," was the remark
of the father, in a rather sad tone.
"I see nothing in that fact calculated to make you speak sadly, doctor,"
said the nobleman, pushing back the brown curls from the child's broad
white forehead. "There is room for any amount of knowledge here, I
should say. Are you fond of your books, my boy?"
"I like reading history," replied Henry, simply--"all about those
wonderful Greeks and Romans, and the great Northmen that conquered so
many countries," and then the child paused suddenly, as if ashamed of
his enthusiasm.
Lord Rivers, with a glance at the radiant face of the proud mother, drew
the boy nearer to him, and said--
"Go on, Henry, tell me what books you like best; have you begun to learn
Latin yet?"
"Oh yes, sir," said Henry, "I've been all through my Latin grammar and
the Delectus, and now I'm learning Greek."
"So you mean to be a learned man like your father, eh, Master Henry?"
"I don't know, sir; but I should like to be a learned man very much."
"And I daresay you will, if you study very hard."
Lord Rivers glanced at his old tutor as he spoke, and said, "What do you
mean to make of this boy, doctor?"
"Go into the schoolroom, Henry," said his father, "and ask Mr. Howard to
assemble the classes for afternoon school."
Henry turned to obey. Lord Rivers detained him a moment.
"May I?" he said, holding a sovereign in his hand, which could only be
seen by Dr. Halford. "Just a trifle to purchase any books he may choose,
and consider them my present."
There was a silent acquiescence to this appeal, which Lord Rivers
quickly understood.
Turning to the boy he placed the sovereign in his hand, saying,
"Good-by, Henry; there is something to buy you any books you wish for,
and you must call them my present."
The child for a moment looked bewildered, then he turned to his father
with inquiring eyes.
"Thank Lord Rivers for his kind present, Henry," said his father, "and
when you have delivered my message to Mr. Howard you can return here."
"Thank you, Lord Rivers," said the child; and then with an earnest look
in the nobleman's face he asked, "Was papa your tutor once?"
"Yes, my boy," said the earl; and as he stooped to kiss the bright,
intelligent face, he added, "And now go and deliver papa's message."
With a quick movement the boy, turning to his father, placed the
sovereign in his hand, and hastily left the room.
"What a splendid boy!" was the earl's remark as the door closed on the
child. "What do you intend to make of him? he has genius enough for any
position."
"I hope to send him to the university," replied Dr. Halford, "and if I
find he has any predilection that way, I shall encourage him to take
orders."
"Almost a pity, doctor, to bury such talents in the Church, and limit
the young man's income to 100_l._ a year as a curate."
"I shall be guided by the boy's own wishes; but if I find he desires to
become a clergyman as earnestly as I did, I will not raise a single
obstacle in his path."
"Well, no," said Lord Rivers, rising as Thomas entered with the
information that the horses were at the door. "I can quite understand
your wish that your son should not be thwarted in his hopes as you were;
and remember one thing--if in the years to come your son Henry should
become a clergyman, I have two livings in my gift, one of which shall be
his as soon as it becomes vacant after he is ordained."
Before the delighted parents could express their warmest thanks for this
promise, the little boy made his appearance, and accompanied his father
to the gate with the visitor.
The child's eager admiration of the beautiful high-bred animal which the
earl mounted, and indeed of the earl himself, was so enthusiastic that
it formed an epoch in his life never to be forgotten while memory should
last.
Not more lasting and real was the earl's promise in the memory of the
doctor and his wife; and this promise, added to the fact that Henry
Halford's talents and wishes tended the same way, led to the results
which have been described in the preceding chapters of this history.
Perhaps Dr. Halford, whose character was not hopeful, did not allow
himself to trust too much in the earl's promise. He remembered the
words, "Put not your trust in princes, for vain is the help of man." Yet
it influenced him to a certain extent, for he felt convinced that if his
old pupil lived, and the opportunity presented itself, Lord Rivers was
not likely to forget his promise.