Lydford

“ The grand Tavy Cleave, one of the famous beauty spots of the moor, is just south of Amicombe Hill. The Tavy, one of the many rivers that spring from the morasses around Cranmere, here tumbles—in summer a cooling stream, in winter an impetuous torrent—among scattered boulders and crags at the foot of the bare hills. Very different is this scene from Lydford Gorge, but far more typically moorland. There is no woodland here, but the gaunt flanks of granite upheavals, and a restless stream gushing through stark lichened rocks. Grim summits cap the ravine ”

“ As the evening drew to a close, and Amos went out to his chickens as usual after Lizzie had gone to bed, John turned to Lydia.
"What are you reading, these days, young Lydia?"
"Browning—'The Ring and the Book,'" replied Lydia.
John shook his head. "Really grown up, aren't you, Lydia? Do you enjoy being a young lady?"
"Yes, I do, only I miss the old days when I saw so much of you."
"Do you, my dear?" asked Levine, eagerly. "In what ways do you miss me?"
"Oh, every way! No one will ever understand me as you do."
"Oh, I don't know. There are Billy and Kent." ”

“ Lydia's father looked at her, long and meditatively. He was pretty well discouraged about the probability of ever getting a clear title to the land through Kent or Marshall. And the longer he looked at Lydia, the more his mind reverted to New England, to old tales of the farm on which he and his ancestors had been bred.
"A man with three hundred and twenty acres of land is a power in the community," he said, suddenly.
"Oh, yes, Dad!" cried Lydia.
"You never know what a feeling of independence is," said Lizzie, "till you own land and raise wheat."
Amos stared out the door into the darkness. ”

“ Don't you expect Lydia to find her young man and settle down?"
"No, I don't!" snapped Amos. "There isn't a man on earth good enough for Lydia. I don't want her to marry. I'll take care of her."
"Humph! Nothing selfish about a man, is there?" muttered Lizzie.
Kent and Lydia strolled along the leafy road, with the tang of the autumn in their nostrils, and the blue gleam of the lake in their eyes. It was only a half mile to the Willows and as they turned in, Kent took Lydia's hand and drew it through his arm. ”

“ Naps followed such early rising as a matter of course, and Lydia, after a peep, came tiptoeing out on the porch as softly as could be for fear of wakening him. Her ill-humor had vanished, and she listened to her mother’s directions with not a cloud on her face.
“Go up the village road and take the first turn,” said Mother in a whisper. “Walk along until you come to something that doesn’t look one bit like a shoemaker’s shop. You will know it by the flowers, and by the trademark over the door. The shoemaker’s name is Mr. Jolly.”
So Lydia skipped up the road with her old shoes under her arm. ”

“ Lydia looked up from her story with a quick flash of tragedy in her eyes.
"Well," said John, smiling at her gently, "if you don't want to be rich, Amos, Lydia does. I'll give her the cottage here, the first fifty thousand I make off of Indian pine lands."
"I swan," exclaimed Amos, "if you do that, I'll buy a cow and a pig and some chickens and I can pretty near make a living right here."
"You're foolish, Amos. This isn't New England. This is the West. All you've got to do is to keep your nerve, and any one with sense can make a killing. Opportunity screams at you." ”

“ All the rest of the winter afternoon, Lydia slept. The sun dipped low beyond the white hills, filling the living-room with scarlet for one breathless moment, before a blanket of twilight hid all save the red eyes of the base burner. Amos came home at seven and he and Lizzie ate supper in silence except for the old lady's story of Kent's visit.
"Poor young one," muttered Amos, looking slowly toward the quiet blond head on the faded brown cushion. "I'm glad she's a child and 'll forget it soon."
Lizzie gave Amos a curious glance. "You don't know Lydia, Amos," she said. ”

“ Track that woman,” (and here Lydia Holdfast appeared, smiling in triumph) , “follow her, do not allow her out of your sight. But be careful; she is as cunning as a fox, and will slip through your fingers when you least expect it.” Then she and Lydia Holdfast alone played parts in the running commentary of her dreams. “What do you want to find out,” said Lydia Holdfast; “about me? I am a simple creature—but you are much more simple. It is a battle between us, for the life of a man, for the honour of a man. ”

“ Lydia jumped to her feet. "You make me sick, Kent Moulton!" she snapped. "All men make me sick. I'm going to bed." And she stalked off in her hunting boots, without a good night to any one.
Kent looked after her with an expression half sheepish, half admiring.
"What's the matter with Lyd?" asked Olga.
"Doesn't care about the spooning bee," replied Kent.
"Proper is Lydia's middle name," commented Gustus.
"Lydia is absolutely O. K.," said Charlie.
"Bet your life," agreed Kent. "Get your big head over, Gustus, and give me a piece of Margery's knee." ”

“ Lydgate, conscious of an energetic frame in its prime, felt some compassion when the figure which he was likely soon to overtake turned round, and in advancing towards him showed more markedly than ever the signs of premature age—the student’s bent shoulders, the emaciated limbs, and the melancholy lines of the mouth. “Poor fellow,” he thought, “some men with his years are like lions; one can tell nothing of their age except that they are full grown.”
“Mr Lydgate,” said Mr Casaubon, with his invariably polite air, “I am exceedingly obliged to you for your punctuality. ”

“ With her bright cheeks and her yellow hair above the fawn-colored corduroy, Lydia looked half boy, half woman.
"My soul, Lydia, they're just grand!" cried Lizzie.
"What boys are going in that crowd?" demanded Amos.
"Charlie and Kent and—Margery's mother's given in—'Gustus Bach. I told you. Daddy, don't you like the suit?"
"Like it!" exclaimed Amos. "Lydia, I'm stunned by it! It makes me realize my little girl's growing up to be a pretty woman. I wish I could have bought you your first suit myself, Lydia. ”

“ Lydia laughed. "It was nip and tuck between you and Adam, Lizzie. Let's get in away from the mosquitoes—I'm so glad I had this talk with you, Mr. Levine."
"Lydia should have been a boy," said Amos; "she likes politics."
"I'd rather be a girl than anything in the world," protested Lydia, and the two men laughed. If there was still a doubt in the back of Lydia's mind regarding the reservation, for a time, at least, she succeeded in quieting it. She dreaded meeting Charlie and was relieved to hear that Dr. Fulton had taken him East with him for a couple of weeks to attend a health convention. ”

“ A sudden realization of the loneliness of Lydia's unmothered girlhood, of her innocent faith in him, touched the best that was in him. His voice was a little husky but he answered coolly.
"A hussy, Lyd, is a flirt who's gone to the bad. Those around Lake City chase after the students and the Indians who've got Government allowances, and get their money away from them."
"Oh," said Lydia. "Oh!" Then thoughtfully, "Aren't men silly!"
"Yes, they are," agreed Kent. "And, Lyd, whenever you want to know about such things, you ask me. It's a man's place to tell a girl the things she ought to know." ”

“ Trees, fells, grass were steeped in a wan, gold light, a mingling of sunset and moonrise. The sky was clear; the gradations of colour on the hills ethereally distinct. From a clump of trees came a soft hooting of owls; and close behind them a tall hedge of roses red and white made a bower for Lydia's light form, and filled the night with perfume.
"What do great men matter?" said Tatham incoherently as they paused; "what does anything matter—but—Lydia!" ”

“ She looked with a clear affectionate gaze on his thin smooth-shaven face, and into his tired black eyes.
"Why do you always say 'young' Lydia?" asked the child.
"That's what I want to know, too," agreed Amos.
"Because, by heck! she's so young to be such an old lady." He smoothed the short curly hair with a gesture that was indescribably gentle. "I tell you what, young Lydia, if you were ten years older and I were ten years younger—"
Lydia leaned against his knee and took a large bite of cake. "You'd take me traveling, wouldn't you, Mr. Levine?" she said, comfortably. ”

“ For the strangers in Green Cottage had departed, and Lydia was again within his reach.
The return to Duddon after an absence had never lost its freshness for Victoria. Woman of fifty as she was, she was still a bundle of passions, in the intellectual and poetic sense. The sight of her own fells and streams, the sound of the Cumbrian "aa's," and "oo's," the scurrying of the sheep among the fern, the breath of the wind in the Glendarra woods, the scent of moss and heather—these things rilled her with just the same thrills and gushes of delight as in her youth. ”

“ Lydia blushed. "Oh, not for a long time. Now, let's go and tell my people, Billy."
Out in the night again! Curious how long the short walk to the cottage could be made! Curious how near the stars were—heaven just over the road where the lovers strolled. Not strange that such ecstasy cannot last forever. The human mind could not bear that heaven-born rapture too long.
Lizzie was mending. Amos was sitting in his arm chair, with a bit of paper on which he was figuring. Lydia flew across the room and dropped on her knees beside him. ”

“ No man can be a match for such a creature as Lydia Holdfast—let us call her by that name. It must be a case of Greek meeting Greek, and in me this woman will find more than her match. So for the present do not move openly; do not run the risk of being discovered. Do nothing that will put our enemies on their guard; above all, do not write to the newspaper which published Lydia Holdfast’s infamous story; a friend has already stepped forward in vindication of your character, and that should be a comfort to you, as it is to me. ”

“ Kent crossed over to the couch and took Lydia's hand, while Margery went for her wraps. "Good-by, dear," he whispered, "get well fast for me."
Lydia smiled at him over the bunch of violets.
Billy was the next caller. "I left Dad and Amos saving the Nation through Free Trade," he said. "Gee, Lydia, but you do look better! You don't suppose you could possibly go to the Prom., just for one or two dances, do you?"
Lydia shook her head. "No clothes," she said, briefly. "Ask some other girl."
"There isn't any other girl," replied Billy. "If I can't go with you, I'll be hanged if I go at all! ”

“ Lydia looked at her disconcerting grandparent in silence.
She knew herself far better able to steer clear of his many and violent prejudices than was matter-of-fact Uncle George, or unfortunate Aunt Beryl, who often seemed to go out of her way in order to fall foul of them. But this time she was conscious of perplexity.
“I don’t understand, Grandpapa. I really do want your advice.”
“Advice is cheap,” said Grandpapa. “A great many people say they want it, especially women. What they really want, Lyddie, is an opportunity for telling someone what they have already decided to do. ”

“ Neither Kent nor Lydia ever had seen Charlie thus before. He was neither arrogant nor sullen. He was pleading with a tragic hopelessness that moved his two hearers profoundly.
"Oh, Charlie! I will try," cried Lydia. "I truly will."
"I knew you would," said Charlie, huskily, and he turned back abruptly to the camp.
"Gee!" exclaimed Kent. "Chapter number two!"
Lydia stamped her foot. "How can you speak so, Kent! It's a frightful thing!"
"Sure it's frightful, but it can't be helped. The whites have got to have this land. Might's right."
"What makes the whites so crazy for it?" asked Lydia. ”

“ Lydia's face, as she sat on the grass at Lady Tatham's feet, looking toward the fells, was scarcely visible to her companion. Victoria could only admire the beauty of the girl's hair, as the wind played with it, and the grace of her young form.
"I am afraid he is disappointing all his friends," she said gravely.
"Is it his fault?" exclaimed Lydia. "Mr. Melrose must be mad!"
"I wonder if that excuses Mr. Faversham?"
"It's horrible for him!" said Lydia in a low, smothered voice. "He wants to put things right?" ”

“ In the studio a fire was blazing and crackling, and Lydia lay down on the rug to watch it and wait for Father to come home. Her head was whirling with all the pleasant happenings of the day. Even the flames seemed to have merry faces that smiled and nodded to her as they rose and fell.
“Red and orange and yellow fairies, and little blue ones too,” thought Lydia. “And they dance and they dance and they never stop. I wonder if they ever go to bed?” And with that Lydia shut her eyes and sailed off to sleep herself. ”

“ She had been wishing that Lizzie was a neat maid with a white apron! A sense of shame overwhelmed her and she threw her arms about her kind old friend.
"Lizzie, you're a lot too good to me," she whispered.
Lydia was sitting on the front steps, the next afternoon, with a book in her lap and Adam at her feet, when Billy Norton called. He stopped for a chat in the garden with her father, before coming up to greet Lydia.
"He is awful homely. A regular old farmer," she thought, comparing him with the elegant Gustus and with Kent's careless grace. ”

“ Lydia could not help thinking that “they” had some excuse in supposing Grandpapa to be blind and deaf to his protégé’s iniquities, but she put out her hand and patted the dog’s rough head.
“Would you look after Shamrock, Lyddie?”
“Yes, Grandpapa, I am very fond of him.”
“Why?” said Grandpapa sharply.
“Because he amuses me,” answered Lydia truthfully.
“Ah ha! we all find it amusing to see other people being made fools of!” was Grandpapa’s charitable sentiment. “Well, you shall have him one of these days, Lyddie. I hope you’ll have a good home to give him. ”