Waynflete

“ Are you going to let Waynflete again for the summer and autumn? No air ever suited me so well, and as for the noises, one gets used to them. I found the old horseman at last quite companionable.” Suddenly Constancy broke in, in clear, deliberate tones. ”

“ Guy got up, and, unlocking a drawer, he laid a row of small objects on the table, setting the photograph of the Waynflete picture beside them.
These were the old likenesses of their father and grandfather, a handsome, well-set-up photograph of himself taken at Oxford, and another more recent one.
“Oh, I say,” said Godfrey, “why did you sit when you were looking so ill? Yes, there’s a good deal of likeness; but, oh, chuck this one with the eyes into the fire—I don’t like it. Eh! What’s this? Have you been drawing yourself? You have made yourself look quite fiendish.” ”

“ Godfrey looked on delighted, and drew quite false conclusions; for, if Constancy loved Rawdie, and admired Mrs Waynflete, it was for their own sakes and not for his.
The hour and the maiden had come for the happy, prosperous youth. The vigorous inspiring companionship filled him with delight, the roses of that summer were redder and its sun warmer than he had ever known. Love came upon him with a rush of joyful hope, and, as was natural to him, his passion became a purpose, which he expected to fulfil. He would work hard for a degree, for she would scout a failure. He must win her ”

“ New sorts of people teach one more than hooks. I got heaps of ideas from Mrs Waynflete. All that business life was so new to one. I do like meeting new kinds of people. Every one here is so groovy. University life is very narrow. It is much more original and interesting, if you have brains, to spend them on doing than on learning. Mrs Waynflete was far cleverer than any literary woman. I am glad Guy is better, and that ‘Mr Godfra’,’ as old Cooper called him, is being such a good boy, and minding his business. If you can manage a private interview with Rawdie, you might give him my love. ”

“ But surely the true end of Guy Waynflete’s story, of the battle which every soul that is born into the world must fight, but which he waged under such strange conditions, is not here, but in that unseen world, where the souls of the old Waynfletes had gone before him, where the real issues of the battle are decided, where the real story began.
There only, where the souls of the wicked, as well as of the righteous, are in the hand of God, can be gathered the fruits of Guy’s victory. ”

“ Mrs Waynflete, however, kept no count of his movements; she took no notice till the first train the next morning brought over the Ingleby stable-boy with Rawdie, Godfrey’s bag, and a note from Guy, in which he stated that he would not be able to come to Waynflete at present, as he was going on “a little outing” with Staunton. Godfrey felt certain that the little outing was to Moorhead, and when he read as a conclusion, “Cheer up, old boy; there’s worse luck in the world than yours,” he felt as if Guy was mocking his trouble. ”

“ At first Guy wished for no more. He did not try to draw Florella more closely into his inner life, she made the outer one so fair. It was delightful to see her cut cake and pour out tea, to hear her chat to her aunt, or play with Rawdie, and when, at Mr Clifton’s suggestion, she undertook some little kindnesses to a few old women, a little notice of some rough girls, when she put her hand to the help of Waynflete, it seemed to Guy in truth like the descent of an angel. ”

“ Godfrey and his dog were privileged offenders.
“Going to Waynflete is a jolly idea,” said Godfrey; “but Cousin Susan and Sarah Jane will be confounded bores, if they’re to stay here for good.”
“They will so,” said Guy. “As for Waynflete, it’s a great move for my aunt at her age.”
“Oh, she’s up to anything. I say, do you remember waking me up because you had the nightmare. You ate too many raspberries with those jolly girls in the old fruit-garden. That story would be a fortune to the fellows who go in for spooks. Do you ever see ghosts now?” ”

“ Guy Waynflete—she did not try in her thoughts to separate the generations—seemed to have been pursued by an evil power. Was there no good angel to help him?
Florella saw—as she saw the thought in her pictures—the radiant image, all light and wings and glory, the instinctive presentment of a heavenly being which was her spiritual and artistic inheritance. Perhaps, in the light of that fair fancy, she fell asleep; but suddenly there was no outward vision any more, but a great awe and a passionate yearning within. A voice seemed to cry from the depths, “Oh, helping is so hard—so hard! ”

“ When old Miss Maxwell, picking York and Lancaster roses in her little garden, looked down the bleak grey street of Ouselwell, and beheld a stranger riding up, she felt, as she said afterwards, a presentiment of something unusual, which, as strange and striking young men were not common in Ouselwell, was perhaps not surprising. But it was fulfilled when the stranger left his horse at the inn, and walking up to her gate, bowed politely, and introduced himself as Guy Waynflete, a friend of her cousin, Mr Cuthbert Staunton. ”

“ The lads had to make the most of a few bits of needlework, a stiff little note or two, and a photograph of their mother, of so much weaker a type that it had left but little impress on their strong Waynflete features. There were old likenesses, too, of father and grandfather, at which Guy looked earnestly, and then cast a stealthy glance across the room. ”

“ You are fond of pictures?”
“I can’t draw,” said Guy; “but I can write down faces in pen-and-ink outline. I can’t make pictures. I don’t think I enjoy them.”
“Waynflete likes music,” said Cuthbert; “that is more in his line.”
“Tunes often put drawings into my head,” said Florella, simply. “The time when I began to do flower pictures was at Waynflete,” she added. “Some of the flowers there looked so wonderfully old; and age is a very difficult sentiment to convey in a flower! I never could manage it.”
As she spoke, there was a movement among the guests, and Mrs Palmer caught the name. ”

“ A great many young women aspired to the friendship of Constancy Vyner, and courted her, as girls do court each other. Florella’s friends did not make her of so much importance; but they told her all their troubles.
Part 1, Chapter X. “The One Maid for Me.” When old Margaret Waynflete drove up to the door of Waynflete Hall in the Rilston fly—for the old stables were not calculated for the accommodation of valuable horses—she never thought of herself in a picturesque light, nor felt, as Godfrey and even Jeanie in a measure did, for her, that this was the moment for which she had lived. ”

“ You do say extremely clever things sometimes. Yes, so they ought. But this isn’t a big situation, though Godfrey Waynflete is a very big young man.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Florella, beginning to get up. “You’re simply flirting, and talking fine about it. But, I don’t think Godfrey Waynflete is flirting, and you may find that the situation grows.”
“Well! I’ll see if I can grow up to it,” said Constancy. “But you know, in these days a girl like me is much more likely to flirt too little than too much.” ”

“ For Violet, in startling confirmation of the last words, had suddenly rushed forward and launched herself on the neck of a young man in brown tweed, who was coming up the steps of the verandah.
“Cuth, Cuth! Oh, how lovely! Oh, did you know we were here?”
“I have known long enough to mitigate my alarm at your greeting. Your letters were at the post-office. Yes—here we are. How do you do, Miss Vyner?”
“I shall believe in brain-waves in future,” said Constancy, as she gave him her hand. “I had just recalled a conversation with you and Mr Waynflete, and I see you coming. Is he with you?” ”

“ Guy does not care about Waynflete,” said Godfrey, thoughtlessly.
“Eh?” said his aunt. But here a rapturous bark from Rawdon Crawley, who had been penitently licking the blacking off his master’s boots, directed attention to Guy’s figure at the house door. ”

“ As she had dimly felt at first, the object of a life’s labour is not so dear as the labour itself; and whenever the charms of Waynflete were discussed, Margaret felt that she was an Ingleby woman. She was as constant to the facts of her life as she had been to the idea that had dominated it.
Under the influence of these feelings, she one day sat down, and wrote to Guy a note in which she told more of the truth than she had admitted to those living in the house with her. ”

“ Jeanie sprang up from her knees with a scream, and let the candle she held fall over and go out upon the floor.
There, within the door, stood Guy, white and wild, with eyes that seemed the very home of fear.
He came unsteadily forward, and, as Godfrey started up, sank on his knees by the bedside.
Mrs Waynflete opened her eyes wide, and looked hard at him, struggling to speak.
“Aunt Margaret,” he said, steadily and clearly, “I am not too late; I can’t satisfy your mind about the business, but you may be satisfied with me. I have got past, and I have come. You can die in peace.” ”

“ But it was quite safe, even to the fine edges of its gilt roses.
“He is a nice-looking fellow, but his fingers should have been rapped when he was little to cure him of fidgeting,” she said, when they were alone. “But I shouldn’t think old Mrs Waynflete knew much about children.”
“He didn’t like to discuss his ghost,” said Constancy; “that was why he fidgeted. Family ghosts are personal.”
“Cosy,” said Florella, as her aunt left the room, “I can’t bear to think of the tricks we played at Waynflete. We ought to tell. It’s far too serious a thing to give a place the name of being haunted.” ”

“ I’ve an invitation for you, which I’ve a mind you shall accept.”
“Are the Rabys giving a dance?” asked Guy, who was becoming an eligible partner.
“No; this is from Constance Palmer. Her husband was your great-uncle’s cousin. She wanted to spend some months in bracing air, so I let Waynflete to her. You know the old lease of the house fell in this spring. She asks you two to come there for a visit. You shall go.”
“I should like to see Waynflete,” said Guy, with some curiosity, while Godfrey said—
“Is it only an old lady? Will there be any other fellows there?”
“She isn’t old, young gentleman. ”

“ Miss Maxwell looked at the blooming girl with her outspoken voice and her straight-looking eyes, her sailor hat, and her boyish jacket, as if she had never thought of any one like her before; she sighed and looked solemn, but pulled out the drawer of the card-table, and took therefrom, with great mystery, two or three yellow-looking letters, an old Prayer-book, and a very dirty pack of cards, and on one of these she pointed out a dark stain. “My loves,” she whispered; “this was stained on that fatal night with Squire Waynflete’s life blood.” ”

“ When he Arrived in the Early Morning, he was Undoubtedly in liquor, which was his Custom, therefore His Statement that the Spirit of his Ancestor, Guy Waynflete, Who Betrayed his Friend, and the Father of his Future wife, and so Disgraced his Family at the Time of the Lamentable Rebellion of the Duke of Monmouth, stood in his Path, and Prevented Him from Crossing the River Flete, hath no Credit with Reasonable Men. There be Some that say Highwaymen are Plentiful, but Lies, in the mouth of this Young Gentleman, are more Plentiful still. ”

“ Any one may give away roses to anybody. But when you leave them behind on your dressing-table, and they come down in the vase, to be done up for the next person—well, you don’t care very much anyhow. Oh—oh—you didn’t stay long at Munich, Mr Van Brunt—good morning. This is my cousin—Mr Waynflete.”
A slender, dark-haired young man, with bright eyes behind a pair of pince-nez, made Guy a formal bow, and Jeanie vanished, while her “cousin,” considerably embarrassed, bowed much less gracefully, and remarked that it was a fine morning. ”

“ He’s too young for her, and Ingleby wouldn’t suit her at all. But clever girls often take to handsome men with nothing in them.”
“But Godfrey Waynflete has a good deal in him, Aunt Con.”
“Well, he hasn’t much to say. I expect Guy was too clever for old Mrs Waynflete, and wouldn’t give her her own way. But what Cosy will do when she comes home, I can’t think. She’ll never find enough to occupy her talents. I wish she would marry—some one who could give her a career.”
Florella did not pass over to her aunt a letter which she had just received from Constancy. ”

“ The eldest ought to have Waynflete; but it did not suit with her ideas to make him the squire and his brother the mill-owner, as might have seemed natural. The money that had been made in Ingleby Mills ought not to be diverted from their interests for the support of the Squire of Waynflete. He must be a partner in the business, even if the chief management of it fell to his brother. And the Squire of Waynflete ought to be the eldest son. ”

“ Then he knelt down, and laid his hand on that of the dead woman, starting a little at the unaccustomed chillness of the touch, and before her face, and in the sight of God, he vowed that he would never profit by the results of his wicked action, never enjoy the fortune from which he had ousted Guy, never be master of Waynflete. ”

“ The last five years had increased Mrs Waynflete’s wrinkles, but she was still upright, slim, and vigorous, enjoying the presence of her younger nephew, and, possibly also, the elder one’s absence. The expression is rather strong; but Guy was so uncongenial to her that his presence could not be said to add to her happiness.
“Eh, well,” she said; “I like a man that can speak up to you, and has got some grit. I’ve no opinion of limp characters.”
“Things generally settle themselves if a fellow looks them in the face,” said Godfrey, cheerfully. ”