CHAP. I.

OF

CAPTAIN GAINSBOROUGH'S ACCOUNT EXPLORATIONS ABOUT FAIRCLOUGH AND

THE SURROUNDING PARTS.

Silver Swan, Dingleton, near Tudfield. MY DEAR WIFE, I arrived here before ten last night, without any incident on the journey worth naming, excepting that at Marsham I took a fancy to a dog, and bought him for you. I hope and believe he will turn out a good dog. At all events he shows good temper; and as he was evidently ill-treated and half-starved in his last place, the probability is that he will take kindly to Fairclough and to

was as thin as a marlin-spike when a lad, she may not be far out of her reckoning.

Wainwright had left the keys with her; so I told them to call me at six; took a glass of grog; saw my coat put to dry; and turned in.

Now you want to know what the house looks like, Mary; and I hardly know how to describe it. However, it did not disappoint me. If not pretty, it looks snug. It is a dry house, solidly built of red brick, with stone cornice, chimneys &c.

There are some good views from the windows, especially towards the west. The house fronts the Tudfield road, which, after passing it, merges in a green lane, first throwing out two important branches. That on the right slopes downward to the village: the other winds up the hill facing the house, and disappears in a narrow pass leading to Gatton Marsh.

I believe it will save much time and some mistakes if I make you a chart of the domain. Here it is

A will make a capital summer parlour. The windows open on a balcony overlooking the garden.

The house is on the side of a hill sloping downwards frum south-east to north-west; so you may understand why it is that whereas the floor of the house is but two steps above the level of the road in front, some six or eight are required to lead from the balcony of the back parlour to the garden. It is from this balcony and the room above that the view I referred to is to be seen. Cardington Castle, three miles off to the right; the sea running in among sands and red rocks. Further out you may see ships pass, in clear weather. Don't forget, Mary, to put up one of my telescopes with your traps; the small Dolland's I think will suit you, it will help to amuse you.

From the next parlour window B nothing at present is to be seen but a brick wall with a heavy paling on the top, and through the gate a peep of the hillside opposite. Now the road, as I have said, takes a pretty wind up the hill, and I dare say in the winter time you may like to sit at that window with your work, and see the country people trudging along. So, as for that wall, down it shall go, and we will see if we cannot make the paling do.

There are sundry large beams running across the ceilings of the hall and the kitchens, [c r and G]. This side of the building is evidently ancient. The chimney shaft [marked E] is remarkably large, and the fireplaces cornerways. Evidently the place has had little attention of late years, but it is a substantial bit of building. There are oak doors, wainscots, and staircase, which, by the way, my lass, you are not to have polished to a looking-glass, to break your precious little neck down, but get a sensible carpet put over. I dare say you would have done this without telling; for, though the gods have made you poetical, you have as pretty a notion of common sense as most folk,

There are good store-closets [marked H] and cellarage, a cowhouse, stable, and coachhouse, [I, J and K].

I have not thought it necessary to map out the croft: you see where it lies. There are some good shrubs in the garden. A shady walk along the wall extends along the croft to our tenant's cottage. I looked in there after surveying the house. The widow, Mrs. Barncliffe, seems a decent woman, and her sons are stout lads. One of them is a carpenter, and a sort of genius in his way. Of course he is set to work; but it was as well I took the precaution of requesting Mrs. Peters to look up some workmen beforehand, or I must have lost some time about it. It is noon. I have given my orders and seen that they are properly set about. Now I am off to Wainwright's.

five, and ordered dinner for that hour; calculating on being here at least half-an-hour earlier, so as to finish my letter, and tell you the result of my interview with Mr. Wainwright.

Well, my dear, you shall have all the longer account by way of compensation; for here I am, just having dined, with the evening before me, and nothing else but pen, ink, and paper.

I have told you of a certain winding road leading from Fairclough to Gatton Marsh. That is the road to Darliston Hall, Mr. Wainwright's place. Great part of the farm land about it has been reclaimed from the marsh, and I fancy that during the fifty years or so that astute individual has been in possession, he has not let grass grow under his feet if any thing more profitable could be cultivated.

Fairclough, which is the nearest house, is nearly a mile away. In no other direction is there a decent road or dwelling visible; but Gatton marsh, east and west and south. A few cartroads there are, and here and there a bridle road, only safe in broad day-light, save to the initiated. A strange, desolate situation.

As for the building, it is a large old farmhouse with nothing handsome about it outside or inexcepting indeed the eyes of a queer little lass who came into the parlour where I was waiting, with a jug of ale in her hand, and told me if I liked to smoke there were pipes in the cupboard, and she would bring me some tobacco.

Of course, I said I smoked sometimes, but never in ladies' company: whereat the handsome eyes opened wide, and seemed gravely considering to what species of the genus homo I belonged.

Mr. Wainwright I knew had been sent for, but was not likely to join me for nearly an hour. In these circumstances, seeing the little lass was sheering off, I thought it expedient to ask if she would be so kind as to find me something to read.

"Grandfather took this morning's paper in his pocket," she said, "but there's yesterday's. I answered, "Thank you, Miss Wainwright I think I am pretty well up in the news." "My name is not Wainwright; I am Helen Dalziel."

"I beg your pardon. I ought to have remembered Mr. Wainwright had no son. When I was last here, some twenty years ago, I saw a Miss Wainwright. Your mother perhaps?"

"Yes, that was my mother. I do not know what I can find that you would like to read. Grandfather never takes in anything but the papers."

"And will you not trust me with one of your books, Miss Helen? I will promise not to smoke

over it."

"I am afraid I have nothing that will interest you. My books are few, and old-fashioned." Have you a volume of Shakespeare?" "Yes, four."

I was about to tell her that nothing would please me better, when a young man walked unceremoniously into the room, and, as near as I can remember, spoke thus:

Stuff, with your trashy novels, Helen!

The eyes had flashed something like "Mind your own business," at the commencement of this speech. Then with a quiet contempt all over, which I felt was ready to fall on me also should I prove recreant to Shakespeare, she waited my reply.

دو

"Thank you," I said, “Miss Dalziel has a book to lend me, which I prefer even to the account you speak of. I know something of the author already, and like his company.' This was no hint to the youngster: indeed I did not suppose it would be. Perhaps the damsel was quicker of comprehension, for after bringing me in the four volumes, she addressed the other by the name of "Grant Wainwright," and said he was wanted at the stables. A good woman came in at the same time with bread and cheese, and I was left to my lunch and Shakespeare.

The four volumes were part of an old edition. There were illustrations-not bad ones. The ladies I thought very pretty, and the gentlemen too, in rather a Corydon style, but all seemed to me to savour more of sixty years ago than of the original old times.

I was deep in the first part of Henry the Sixth, among alarums, excursions, &c., when the before-mentioned good woman, whose entrance I had not taken notice of, startled me up with a scream, and a cry of "O gracious! He'll be thrown-he'll be thrown, to a certainty !" She was looking through the window, from which a side view of part of the farm-yard was visible.

66

Hang the lad!" she went on; "why will he do such things? Look, sir! she'll throw him to a certainty! The black mare he's a riding, and she won't bear mortal creature on her back but Miss Helen. Oh, won't she be in a fine tantrum! The wild lad!I guess it's just to plague her he's doing it; for they've been at it all day about something or other. Oh, how she do kick!" And then she ran into the hall, and shouted up the staircase, "Helen! Miss Helen! here's Grant a riding your mare!" Certainly the fellow's horsemanship was worth looking at. I stood outside the hall door to watch the result. It seemed a doubtful case which would come off conqueror. Suddenly the young girl Helen dashed past me, and ran towards the yard.

"Grant Wainwright, how dare you?" she cried in no light-pitched tone. "Get off my mare this instant! my poor mare-you'll ruin her temper."

He laughed "I'm doing her a deal of

A fine dark grey horse stood saddled beside the gate. It was his; and seeing her hasten towards it, I wondered what course of retaliation she was about to take. Doubtless she would set it free to gallop away? No. Raising herself by stepping on a bar of the gate to a level with the horse's neck, she lifted a lock of his long silky mane, and in the other hand held up a small pair of scissors.

"Grant, look here! one, two, three," and the scissors went to work.

A broadside of oaths did not deter her from proceeding; and the owner of the unlucky grey was evidently at a loss what to do, when the mare decided for him. Taking advantage of the disturbance of his attention, she cleverly pitched him on to a very soft, but not otherwise desirable spot in the yard, and with a whinny of triumph, trotted into her stable. Helen's laugh was good to hear; she clapped her hands, and peal after peal echoed among the old farm buildings.

My attention was taken from her by the appearance at the gate of the old man. He had evidently witnessed the catastrophe.

"Well done," he said; "laugh again, Helen; for thou beest the winner! Hey, Grant lad, thou'st gotten it this time; and serve thee right. Thou'st best get one of the lads to wipe thee down with a wisp o' straw."

Whether the quarrel was made up or not, and, if it was, in what manner, is not for me to tell. In another minute I was engaged in a discourse on the affairs of Leyton farm, and listening to business details which would be troublesome for me to write of, and for you to read. The upshot of it was this-I agreed to let young Valentine Merrivale have the farm. Mr. Wainwright says that as I am not prepared to go to extremities with the family, this is my best chance of recovering the rent due by his late father. He says, though so young, he is remarkably steady; and from the circumstance of his elder brother having married early and left home, he has been for some time the mainstay of his mother and sisters.

Then, Mary my love, I asked if he could find me a good quiet pony for my wife to ride to market "Mind,” I said, "nothing of the sort of that black mare of yours."

on.

"What-Hecate ?" he said. "No; I would set no town-bred lady upon her, nor many country ones. Helen has been accustomed to ride anything, and the mare is gentle enough with her. I have a brown pony at the Rood Farm, I think likely to suit your good lady. It is quiet, and qnick, and goes well in harness. If you like to see it, I will have it sent to the Swan to-morrow."

"Do so, if you can manage it by ten; for I am off early to Tudfield."

I have also, my dear Mary, spoken to Mrs,

as she knew he wanted her to take up with somebody else. He was ever a stern man to thwart that everyone knows. So they went off together without a word, and he took her to India some short while after they were married. Helen was born on the way out." "Born at sea, Mrs. Peters ?"

I think of securing the first, as she bears a good character. It will give you time to choose for yourself.

Mrs. Peters has brought in my tea, and by the way she is fidgeting with the spoons, I can tell she has something to say; so I shall lay down my pen.

This is what she said— "Lor, sir; is it true that Mr. Grant Wainwright got throwed to-day?" 66 Yes, Mrs. Peters. extraordinary?

Is that anything very

"Well, sir, not to say extraordinary, but I never heard that such a thing happened before. May-hap sir, if you saw it you can tell me what horse he was a-riding?"

Said I to myself, "Mrs. Peters, you are curious;" to that good lady, "A very spirited black mare."

"Oh, Miss Dalziel's mare," quoth Mrs. Peters; "I wonder she let him risk his neck mounting Hecate. But then that's a sort of danger neither one nor the other seems to think much of. I heard they had a bit of a quarrel like, as young folks will when they are a-keeping company; but I am sure she would not have had him ride her mare if she thought he'd ha' been throwed."

"Then do you suppose this young man is a lover of Miss Dalziel's? Ah, Mrs. Peters! you good women are always looking out for love affairs among the young people. Now in this case I should say you are mistaken."

And

"Oh, dear! no sir. They're as good as engaged; everybody knows that. Why, did not old Mr. Wainwright lease him the Rood Farm on purpose to keep him in the country? surely, who else should she marry?" "I should say, Mrs. Peters, she's over young to marry yet."

"Not so young as she looks, sir. She's eighteen if she's a day. And then the old man is past eighty, that I know; and he's like to be anxious to see her settled: especially as her mother took herself off in that way with the Captain."

"The Captain-What Captain ?” "Why, may-hap you might know something of Captain Dalziel; as you have had, I have heard say, a good deal to do with India. He came of a good family it was said, but he was not rich. They had no assistance from his friends, and be sure none from Mr. Wainwright. He was mighty vicious at her, for choosing for herself. I believe she was a poor timid creature, and did not dare speak her mind before him,

"Yes, sir. Well, and the poor Captain was killed in some skirmish out there with_the

It

land to live upon her pension at a sea-side place. But she had taken some complaint out in India they said: leastways she did not live long. was thought she had written to her father many times; but he would not write to her, and he never saw her living. When he heard she was dead, like enough he repented being so harsh. He went to Scarborough and buried her, and brought home this girl, and, to do him justice, in his way he has been kind enough to her."

"What do you call his way, Mrs. Peters?"

Why, you see sir, everybody knows Mr. Wainwright is a strange man and a near. Now it seems to me that as long as Miss Helen don't contradict him, she may take her way with others, and he'd rather like her the better for showing a spirit. When a little child he put her to school, she was back in three days-had walked out of the house with a bundle in her hand, and half-way home he chanced to meet her. Very tired she was, like enough, for she had walked eight miles; and he lifted her on his horse, and had her back to Darliston Hall; laughing, I've heard say, for hours, at the queer tales she had to tell of her teachers and schoolfellows.

66 Then, as I was saying, he's near; and even her he pinches so that she goes with little money in her pocket, and not much to speak of on her back, except of a Sunday, when he will have her come out grand; because you see, sir, he's a mighty proud man, and it's then that she's seen by the county people. I have heard say that she will have a pretty fortune, and it's like enough; but it is a pity he has not spent more on her education."

"I think so too, Mrs. Peters. But surely she has had a governess?"

66

Well, sir, she has had two; but one stopped only three months, and said the place did not agree with her health. The other had a quarrel with Miss Helen, and was sent about her business. However, she took it into her head twelve months ago, to fancy a school at Tudfield-Mrs. Thomason's. Twice a week she goes there, and I do hear she's getting on wonderful with dancing and the piano." "And has Miss Dalziel had no quarrel with this lady?"

IN

Your affectionate husband,

RICHARD GAINSBOROUGH. P.S.-Thursday morning. The pony will do.

CHAP. II.

WHICH MRS. GAINSBOROUGH COMMENCES A DIARY, AND IS QUICKLY FURNISHED WITH A ROMANTIC INCIDENT.

I have been ten days at Fairclough. days at home. Yes, home I feel it will be, though at present a certain small corner of the good ship Alexander contests the claim; and I do not think I shall quite feel it is home until the Captain has felt so too.

But does he not? In a measure no doubt; and so do I in a measure. It is his house; this furniture is all his; the carpet and rug he helped me to choose, and this writing table was his gift. On the walls before me hangs his chart of the voyage of the Ajax among the islands of the South Pacific, and when I look through the window I see a pretty hillside, which but for his kind thought for me would❘ have been hidden from my view.

He has been here at all events; and though he cannot see the change wrought in Fairclough, during the last ten days, still he can I trust picture it all pretty accurately, and think of it as home.

How long it is that I have quite neglected writing anything like a diary! No wonder that a little melancholy feeling comes over me at recommencing, for I left it off for very happiness, and I return to it because of loneliness. Well, because it is a consolation of loneliness I recommence it. Because it ministers to some want in my nature which I could not feel while I had one with me to whom my thoughts and fancies, wise and foolish, could be takencould be as it were brought forward to light, shaken out, and then dismissed or cherished.

Let me think that this journal of mine is commenced under pleasanter circumstances than formerly. Then it was merely from very necessity of nature-to ease my heart and brain. Now I have other motives-to be able hereafter to compare events with my goodman, so that though our days are spent apart, we may not feel as if they were lost to each other.

Very busy I have been these ten days; working as if Fairclough had to be made ready to receive its master in a fortnight, instead of well, never mind saying how long: just now is not the time to begin to count. However, it has been no doubt the best course to drive away care; and now, rather tired of other worries

Susan, my servant, has proved helpful and able in every way. As I have had her working at the curtains with me, I accepted Mrs. Barncliffe's offer of assistance. She seems a useful sort of person in the kitchen. Her sons William and Lancelot, and Mrs. Peters, are the only persons besides that I have yet spoken with.

Saturday morning.-I have had a visitor : a tall sallow old man, with keen dark eyes-Mr. Wainwright of Darliston Hall.

I can hardly say the impression he has made is a very favourable one; but though he does not answer to my ideal of an old country gentleman, he is evidently disposed to be obliging, and may prove a very good neighbour in his way. He did not bring his grand-daughter with him, nor mention her; and as the ostensible purpose of his visit was to ask when I would like the pony sent, I am debating whether to return the call next week, or wait until I have an ostensible reason.

I believe Miss Dalziel passed twice yesterday. In the afternoon I saw her, for I chanced to be at my bedroom window searching a bag, by what light remained, for a ball of crochet cotton. She went past at a gallop, unattended; and I heard the sound of her black mare's hoofs ascending the hill at the same pace for some while. I have commenced crocheting short blinds for my bedrooms. They do not shut out the view as muslin does.

I can make out a small portion of the ruin of St. Bride's Abbey on the top of the hill. As soon as the ground is dry enough to cross fields, I intend to make my way there, and see if there is any change since my mother made her sketch of it.

Tuesday, March 15th.-Mr. Valentine Merrivale of Leyton Farm called yesterday with his eldest sister. Of course it was a sort of ceremonial visit. I like them sufficiently to wish to know more of them, bur fear, as we stand, it might not be pleasant