George Manville Fenn

“ He pressed on through the fir wood, then across the birch plantation, where the partridges loved to hide, and the copse where the poachers knew the pheasants roosted on the uncut trees at the edge, but dared not go, because it was so near the keeper’s cottage.
Then on to Thoreby Wood, in and out among the bronze-red fir-tree trunks, under the dark green boughs, where the wind was always moaning, as if the sea shore was nigh, and the bed of needles silenced his footfalls, for the way was easy now. In another minute he would be out of the clearing, close to the cottage—at the back. ”

“ The ex-keeper smiled, as if the doctor’s words coincided with his own thoughts, and he stood watching Oldroyd, as he rode off, getting a peep at Judith seated by the window working hard as he went by, the girl’s face looking pale and waxen in the shade.
“Fretting a bit, by the look of her, and those dark rings,” said Oldroyd, as he rode away. “How much happier a place the world would be if there were no marrying and giving in marriage—no making love at all. Causes more worry, I think, than the drink.” ”

“ There was a few minutes’ silence here, broken at last by Glynne, as she said in a low, thoughtful voice,—
“How much you know. How grand it must be.”
Alleyne laughed softly before replying.
“How much I know!” he said, in a voice full of regret. “My dear madam, I know just enough to see what a very little I have learned; how pitifully small in such a science as astronomy is all that a life devoted to its depths would be.”
“For shame, Moray,” cried Lucy, warmly. “You know that people say you are very clever indeed.” ”

“ Yes, I will now be a man. I will show you—the world—that one can be a great student and thinker, and at the same time a man of that world—a gentleman of this present day. The man who calculates the distance of one of the glorious orbs I have made my study, rarely is as others are in manners and discourse—educated in the ordinary pursuits of life—without making himself ridiculous if he mounts a horse—absurd if he has to stand in competition with his peers. Yes, you are right, Lucy, I have been a dreaming recluse ”

“ Here was a sketch of the father; there one of the uncle; close by, arch and mocking of aspect, a clever representation of Lucy Alleyne; and, in a fit of fury, the major strode to the wall, tore it down, and stamped it under foot.
“What cursed stroke of fate brought them here?” he said hoarsely.
“Hush! This is no time for loud anger, Jem. We must act—like men—for her sake, old fellow! My God, Jem! what sin have I committed that the punishment should be struck at me through her? My poor, poor girl!” ”

“ The major stuck his stick into the turf with a furious stab, as if he had a feud with mother earth; then, dragging round the creel he banged the bright trowel with which he had been gesticulating into the basket, and giving the wicker a swing back, caught up his stick and strode away without a word.
“Confound his insolence!” cried Sir John furiously, “I won’t have it. My own brother: my junior by two hours! A man who has been petted and pampered too, because—because he is my brother—because he has been in the wars—because—because—because he is—my brother—because—hang it all!” ”

“ She is jealous, dear, and proud and watchful of our every act. It is her great love for us. There, there, kiss me; and go to your room for a while. Everything will be well when you come down again.”
“Will it, Moray?” whispered Lucy, nestling more closely to him. “Is my brave, strong, noble brother going to be himself once more?”
She held herself from him so that she might gaze full in his face, but he kept his eyes averted.
“Moray, I am so little and weak,” she whispered, “but I have my pride. You must not let a disappointment eat out all the pleasure of your life.” ”

“ She did not shrink this time, as, throbbing with passion, and uttering threats against the scoundrel, Rolph once more folded her in his arms.
Again she struggled from him, trembling.
“I am not doing right,” she said firmly. “If you love me, Rob—”
“If I love you!” he said reproachfully.
“I am sure you have pity for me,” she said, taking his hand and raising it to her lips, to utter a cry of horror, for the hand was bleeding freely, and the ruddy current dyed her lips.
“Hurt in my defence,” she said with a pained smile, as she bound her own handkerchief about the bleeding knuckles. ”

“ Glynne was entertaining them, for Sir John had, on leaving his brother, gone down into the cellar for the special bottle of port, and, after its selection, found so much satisfaction in the mildewy, sawdusty, damp-smelling place that he stopped for some twenty minutes, poking his bedroom candlestick into dark corners and archways where the bottoms of bottles could be seen resting as they had rested for many years past—each bin having a little history of its own, so full of recollections that the baronet had at last to drag himself away, and hurry up to dress. ”

“ I didn’t bear no malice again him for all that, as long as he was square toward Judith; but he’s thrown her off, and I’m going to see him about it.”
“Man, man, what are you going to do?” cried Oldroyd.
“What am I going to do?” roared Hayle, blazing up into sudden fury. “You’re going to marry sweet young Miss Lucy, yonder. S’pose eighteen or nineteen years, by-and-by, doctor, there’s another Miss Lucy as you’re very proud on. You’re genteel people, we’re not; but the stuff’s all the same. I was proud o’ my Judith, same as you’ll be proud of your Miss Lucy when she comes. What am I going to do? ”

“ Why not take to gardening?”
“Take to gardening?” said Alleyne, shaking off the dreamy air that had come upon him as he mechanically ate what his mother had carefully placed upon his plate, that lady selecting everything, and her son taking it without question, as a furnace fire might swallow so much coal.
“Yes; take to gardening, my good sir,” said Oldroyd. “It is a very ancient occupation, and amply rewards its votaries.”
“I am well rewarded by much higher studies,” said Alleyne, smiling; and Oldroyd was more than ever impressed by his voice and manner. ”

“ You felt what you thought to be a just indignation on my behalf. It is so easy to think those we love must be in the right, so hard to see when we alone are in the wrong. There, let us talk about it no more, for—Why, Lucy! what is the matter?”
Lucy hurried into the observatory, looking hot and excited, threw herself into a chair, sobbing hysterically, and for some time not a word could be obtained from her.
Mrs Alleyne was the first to get an answer, as she at last exclaimed,—
“Then someone has insulted you?”
“No, no!” she cried; and then more emphatically, “No! Glynne, Glynne!” ”

“ For answer Eliza put her hands behind her, and seemed as if she were indulging in the school-girl trick of what is called “making a face” at the doctor, for she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, wrinkled her brow, and put out a very long red tongue, which quivered and curled up at the point.
“That’ll do,” said Oldroyd, hiding a smile; and the tongue shot back, Eliza’s eyes opened, her mouth closed, and the wrinkles disappeared from her face.
“Will that do, sir?”
“Yes; your tongue’s beautifully healthy, your eyes are bright, and your skin moist and cool. Why, what’s the matter?” ”

“ I’m not afraid of Caleb Kent,” she thought to herself; and her eyes flashed again, and in imagination she seemed to see once more the opening where the lodge stood. Her face grew pale, and a curious shrinking sensation attacked her as she recalled Rolph’s face, his eyes searching hers with such a bitter look of contempt and scorn.
Then instantly she seemed to be gazing at herself in the library, clinging to her cousin, till he violently wrenched himself from her, leaving her hopeless and crushed; and she longed bitterly for the opportunity to make some one suffer for this. ”

“ What would the Days say—Sir John and Glynne? If it had been she, I would not have cared.”
“Let the Days be,” he said gruffly.
“I will,” said Mrs Rolph; “but listen, Rob, dear; think of poor Madge.”
“Hang poor Madge! Look here, once for all, mother; I’m not a witch in Macbeth. I don’t want three ounces of a red-haired wench—nor seven stone neither.”
“Rob! Shame!”
“I’m not going to have Madge rammed down my throat. If I’m to marry, she’s not in the running.”
“What? when you know my wishes?”
“Man marries to satisfy his own wishes, not his mother’s. I have other ideas.” ”

“ Poor darling Glynne! My poor cousin! It will drive him mad!”
“Hush, my dear; be calm; try and be calm,” whispered Sir John, laying his hand gently upon her head.
“Yes,” she said amidst her sobs, “I am trying so hard, dear Sir John, for everybody’s sake. My poor aunt! It will nearly kill her. I thought it would be so much better if I went myself to break the dreadful news.”
“Yes,” said Sir John, raising her. “Heaven bless you for your forethought. It is a time when we want a gentle woman’s help.” ”

“ He’s the most unselfish, patient fellow in the world,” cried Lucy.
Glynne turned from her almost impatiently to Alleyne, who said, with a grave smile upon his face,—
“You have no brother, Miss Day. If you had, I hope you would not do all you could, by flattery and spoiling, to make him weak and conceited.”
“Indeed I don’t do anything of the kind, Moray,” said Lucy, indignantly; “and now, for that, I’ll tell the truth, Glynne; he’s a regular bat, an owl, a recluse, and we’re obliged to drag him out into the light of day, or he’d stop in his room till he grew mouldy, that he would. ”

“ Rolph moved angrily, and crumpled up the paper, but Mrs Rolph bent down and kissed him.
“There, all right,” he said, “only don’t bother me about it so. I can’t forget that other cursed muddle, if you can.”
“No, my dear, of course not, but you should try to. And, Rob, dear, be a little more thoughtful about dearest Madge. She has, I know, suffered cruelly in the past, and does so now at times when you seem neglectful—no, no, don’t start, dear; I know you are not, but girls are exacting, and do love to spoil men by trying to keep them at their feet.” ”

“ I cannot interfere.”
“Hang honour!” cried the major excitedly. “I’d give up all the honour in the world sooner than that girl’s life should be blighted. Jack, Jack, my dear brother, we are old men now. We’ve had our fling of life. Let’s think of our darling’s happiness, and not of what the world thinks of us.”
“Too late, Jem! too late!” said Sir John.
“I tell you it is not too late, Jack. Hang it man, I’ll do anything. I’ll challenge and shoot this confounded Rolph sooner than he shall have her.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Jem—don’t talk nonsense. I’ve sounded Glynne well, and it is too late.” ”

“ The group formed a pretty enough natural picture, upon which a silvery rain of sunshine was poured through the dense foliage of the overhanging boughs, for, without being classically beautiful, Glynne Day was as fair a specimen of a young English lady as a country visitor would be likely to see in one twenty-four hours. Her’s was the kind of face with its sweet, calm, placid repose that asked for a second look and then for a third: and when this was complete, he who gazed, old or young, wanted to look again, and so on, in never tiring mood. ”