LI B RARY
OF THL
U N IVLR5ITY
OF ILLINOIS
813
T6>85b
V.3
BOND AND FREE.
BY
THE AUTHOR OF "CASTE,"
ETC., ETC.
" Zwei sind die Wege, auf welchen der Mensch zur Tugend emporstrebt;
Schliesst sich der eine dir zu, thut sich der andre dir auf.
Handelnd erringt der Gliickliche sie, der Leidende duldend.
Wohl ihm, den sein Geschick liebend auf beiden geftlhrt!"
LN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. HE.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1860.
The right of Translation is reserved.
V.3
BOND AND FREE.
CHAPTER I.
" His honour rooted in dishonour stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true."
Wilfred could in no way clear himself to
himself. It is true that, on that fatal morn-
ing, he had been surprised by the tempta-
tion of sudden certainty of Felicia's love
for him — that his passions had then es-
caped from his control, and a kind of
frenzy had possessed him ; but he knew
to how many minor temptations he had
voluntarily yielded — how many voluntary
steps had led up to the involuntary climax.
VOL. III. B
2 BOND AND FREE.
He had only become the slave of over-
mastering passion after repeated and volun-
tary submission to a resistible tyranny.
On his hurried homeward journey Wil-
fred formed the determination, at all costs,
to break off his engagement with Eleanour :
not that he had the slightest or most fleet-
ing hope of winning Felicia — a thousand
things told him that with her esteem he
had lost her love ; that he had been her
idol, and that the fall from the pedestal
of her high estimation had dashed his
image in pieces. If the poor child had
known how many sources of pain he had
found in her conduct at leave-taking, her
own pain would have been doubled. Her
withdrawal from the room polluted by his
presence (so he interpreted that withdrawal)
— her involuntary shrinking from him when
her mother gave him leave to kiss her —
the calmness with which she had extended
BOND AND FREE. 3
her hand — and the calmness of the few
last words, to speak which had cost her
such a struggle — everything she had said
or done was tortured into an expression
of the indifference of contempt. No ! he
was moved to the determination of giving
up Eleanour by no hope of winning Felicia,
He knew now certainly that he never had
loved, and never would love, Eleanour Nar-
penth ; that, however strong had been the
attraction of her beauty, her accomplish-
ments, her devotion, and all her nameless
power of fascination, these things had not
kindled in him answering love, and never
could kindle such love ; and he understood
now, as he had never done before, the
danger and the wickedness of marriage
without love.
On his arrival in London — travel-worn
and thought-worn as he was — Wilfred went
directly to Mr. Narpenth's. His arrival was
B 2 '
4 BOND AND FREE.
unexpected. He noticed nothing, asked no
questions, but allowed himself to be ushered
into the drawing-room, unwashed and un-
rested as he was.
The room was full of people : its blaze
of lights and hum of talk at first dazzled
and bewildered him. His appearance caused
a momentary lull, which attracted Miss Nar-
penth's attention just as Wilfred had de-
scried her. She was seated at the piano
at the far end of the room — her handsome,
animated face turned towards a bearded man
who leant over her chair.
Wilfred would willingly have retired — he
did not wish to meet Eleanour thus, in
public; but Mr. Narpenth's welcoming hand
detained him and led him towards the
place where she was. She had risen, and
her colour had changed : she stood leaning
on the piano, irresolute how to meet him,
doubtful how he had taken her last letter,
BOND AND FREE. 5
and yet deeply pleased and flattered by
the way in which he answered it.
" You come among us like a ghost — we
thought you still at Heidelberg ! " she said,
as her hand entered Wilfred's, and pressed
it in a fervent grasp.
" Heidelberg ! — pray introduce me to the
gentleman who has just left my dear and
lovely Heidelberg ! — my native town."
As he spoke, the bearded individual who
had hung over Miss Narpenth's chair turned
a remarkably frank and pleasant face, lighted
by a pair of glowing eyes, on Wilfred,
and immediately strove to engage him in
conversation. Eleanour stood by for a few
minutes, then, passing close to Wilfred on
her way from the room, said : —
"Escape to the library as soon as you
can — you are too tired to be here."
Wilfred gave a sign of assent; the stran-
ger, noticing the " confidence of eyes,"
b BOND AND FREE.
paused abruptly in the middle of a sen-
tence— to look from Eleanour to Wilfred
inquiringly. During this pause all his en-
thusiasm for lovely Heidelberg seemed to
pass off — for when he spoke again, it was
coldly and absently. Wilfred soon found an
opportunity of withdrawing from the room.
Eleanour had ordered tea to be brought
into the library, and she waited there for
Wilfred. For the first few moments, while
the servant was passing in and out, they
stood opposite each other by the fire, and
talked of the weather and of Wilfred's
journey. When they were alone Eleanour
began to pour out tea, and to overwhelm
Wilfred by her attentions : she spoke but
little and did everything in a feverish,
abrupt way which jarred upon his worn
nerves painfully.
Wilfred, little at his ease in her presence,
presently begged that he might not detain
BOND AND FREE. 7
her from her guests, and apologized for his
sudden and, as it had proved, ill-timed appear-
ance. She made him no answer of any kind ;
but, when she had no longer the occupation
of waiting on him, she suddenly came and
knelt down before him: folding her white
and jewelled arms upon his knees, she
looked up searchingly into his face.
He could not bear the look or her atti-
tude.
" For heaven s sake, rise, Eleanour ! " he
cried ; then added in a less tragic tone : —
" You are crushing and spoiling that
beautiful dress ! "
" Is it beautiful ? Am I beautiful in
it?" she asked, without rising or moving
her eves from his face.
u You know you are beautiful in it —
and you also know that it was not put
on for me."
Wishing to give a light tone to the con-
8 BOND AND FREE.
versation he went on to speak in further
praise of her dress, and to admire the
ornaments she wore on her neck and arms,
and in her hair. She did not heed what
he said, but kept her position and continued
to gaze into his face.
" Do not look at me to-night," he said,
nervously ; " I have travelled without stop-
ping; I feel worn out. To-morrow "
He paused, thinking of what must be
said to-morrow. Already it began to seem
to him impossible that he should have the
courage to say what must then be said, if
he kept his resolution.
"To-morrow you will quarrel with me,
I suppose/' Eleanour spoke with a certain
air of defiance.
" Do not let me keep you here/' he
said again. "I am thoroughly stupefied
and bewildered to-night, and you look bril-
liantly lovely. The sight of you dazzles my
BOND AND FREE. V
tired eyes. Indeed, you must rise, Elea-
nour — I cannot bear to see you there, on
your knees before me."
She let him lift her up : then she
walked to the fire, leant her head against
the marble mantel-piece, and burst into
tears — stormy passionate tears which startled
and annoyed him. When he approached and
spoke to her she turned, threw herself into
his arms, and hid her face upon his shoulder.
"You are angry with me about that
letter, and so you will kill me by cold-
ness, " she said, when she was calm enough
to speak. "Just now I was longing to
ask you whether you still love me ; but I
do not ask it — I dare not ask it — your
' no ' would crush me. I thought that
perhaps you had lost some of your power
over me — that I might learn to give you
up, if you did not love me — but I
cannot — I cannot ! I love you beyond my
10 BOND AND FREE.
life or my pride. I cannot give you
up — I cannot, and I will not — not even if
you ask me — I cannot and I will not be-
lieve that you do not love me."
Wilfred spoke vaguely soothing words,
and felt as if his weak heart must break
or his weak will yield. " Oh, for rest,
even for the rest of death ! " was the cry of
his soul while he held that beautiful wo-
man in his arms.
Looking up into his face, Eleanour said
presently : —
"You say I was not dressed for you
to-night; that is true — I was trying if I
could be pleased to please another than
you. You come ; and I feel at once that
I do not care for the praise and admira-
tion of all the world if you do not
love me."
Eleanour did not let Wilfred start apart
from her when the door was opened ; Mr.
BOND AND FREE. 11
Narpenth entering, found her resting in
Wilfred's arms ; his first words were : —
" So ! you have made it up, children.
Eleanour has been very angry and very
jealous, Wilfred."
" Say nothing about that now, papa," Elea-
nour begged. Soon after she left them —
to compose her face, shake out her tumbled
skirts, and then return to the drawing-room.
" Have you any recent news of Ireton ? "
Wilfred asked, his thoughts turning to what
began to seem the only chance of respite —
the chance of Mr. Ireton's death.
"He has alternately sunk and rallied
many times : he may live on thus for
years. Suspense, and the petty persecu-
tions she is subject to from her brother,
wear Eleanour's spirits cruelly ; I have
resolved to let you fix your wedding-day
between you — as early a day as you both
choose. Eleanour loves you devotedly; she
1 2 BOND AND FREE.
would never relinquish you — no end is to
be served by waiting — I wish to see her
happy. And so "
Wilfred interrupted : —
"May I talk with you in the morning?
I have no head for anything now."
" Yes, yes — you sleep here of course.
Your room is ready. I won't keep you
up — you don't look as robust as I could
wish, but that is only owing to the fatigue
of your hurried journey, I hope."
With a cordial "Good night" Wilfred
was dismissed to his luxurious chamber.
" Retreat is impossible," he thought, as
he tossed on his bed and sought sleep
vainly. He felt indeed that he was weak,
and that to be weak is to be miserable.
His soul was full of the bitterest self-
contempt, but to release himself from his
bonds seemed a thing beyond his power.
He longed, with fevered intensity of long-
BOND AND FREE. 13
ing, to have the tangled and mysterious
skein of his life unravelled for him — to
feel the cool, calming hand of death laid
on his brow and breast.
He made himself think of Eleanour —
of her beauty as she had knelt before
him, her white arms and shoulders bare,
and her splendid eyes searching his face;
he thought, too, of her love which showed
itself with such passionate, impetuous aban-
donment ; overwhelming her pride, prov-
ing itself so grandly disinterested. Surely
such love might in time kindle answering
love. Such love ! — true it was not such a
pure and pale, mild and yet strong, flame
as had been his ideal of woman's love ; but
it was such love as God had made it this
woman's nature to feel — and how should he
dare put his ideal higher than God's real?
He thought of Eleanour as at that very
hour waking, perhaps weeping, in some near
14 BOND AND FREE.
chamber ; mourning over his ungenerous cold-
ness, and over the resistless might of her
own passion — and his thoughts of her grew
warm and tender. She not being by — to
make him vividly conscious of the uncon-
geniality of their natures — he again began
to believe it impossible but that he should
learn to love so beautiful and so devoted
a woman.
"I must marry her — and I must make
my life one endeavour to reward her for
her generous love."
There was a superficial nobility, a show
of self-sacrifice, about this resolve that
soothed Wilfred ; at last, just as it grew
light, he fell asleep.
Wilfred slept late ; when he went down
Mr. Narpenth had left the house. Elea-
nour, who dreaded this interview, looked
so pale and sad, so almost meek, that his
heart smote him. He told her of what
BOND AND FREE. 15
her father had said to him ; and — being
feverishly anxious to escape from the pos-
sibility of further wavering — he pleaded
with lover-like eloquence that she would
marry him soon. After his marriage he
hoped that the calm of irrevocability would
settle on his life; and calm was the great
good for which he now longed.
His warmth and eloquence made Elea-
nour kindle — her large eyes shone with
love, and a glow of pleasure fixed itself
on her cheek.
"I promise you, Wilfred," she said, at
the close of a long morning spent together,
"that I will never be jealous of your
work, as a weaker woman might be. I
shall not let you settle down to slothful
ease — I shall triumph in your fame! Oh!
Wilfred, we will lead a glorious life ! "
She looked grandly beautiful as she
spoke. Wilfred, leaning his head on his
16 BOND AND FREE.
hand, watched her admiringly — called her
his Sybil, and satisfied her proud heart with
praise.
" He does love me," she thought.
" What if, while he was away from me,
he had a pale, passing passion for that
Felicia ? I can forgive him. Have I not
loved before? — and yet I love him deeply
and desperately — "
Just then a servant announced " Mr.
Edler;" and that bearded native of Heidel-
berg, and admirer of Miss Narpenth, en-
tered.
Eleanour's reception of her visitor was
cold, almost repelling, but he was not to
be disconcerted thereby.
"You asked me to come in and look
at your last picture," he said to her, after
he had sat chatting some time. Turning
to Wilfred, he added : —
" Miss Narpenth was one of my first
BOND AND FREE. 1 7
pupils. I have given her lessons — both
abroad and after I came to England —
and I am proud of my pupil."
He rose and led the way to the studio.
Eleanour followed him, but Wilfred did not.
Mr. Edler looked at everything and criti-
cized everything — not paying any heed to
Eleanour' s ungracious manner, which plainly
expressed her desire that he should be gone.
"Rather a successful likeness," he said,
taking up a canvas that had been turned
towards the wall. " But, while you have
hardly done justice to the delicate refine-
ment of detail in the features, you have
given a fire and force to the expression
that are wholly wanting in the original.
I am sure you never saw so determined a
look about that mouth, or such concen-
tration of purpose in those eyes."
" This is not the picture for which I
desired your criticism," Eleanour said, try-
vol. in. C
18 BOND AND FREE.
ing to take the portrait from his hand;
but he retained it, and imprisoned her
fingers, while he gazed into her eyes — not
boldly, but very fixedly and resolutely, as
if reading his fate in them. She coloured
deeply, and, turning her head away, looked
uneasily towards the room in which she had
left Wilfred.
" Is it so ? " he asked. " Is the past
so completely forgotten? Has such a gulph
opened between us ? "
" It was a very foolish past — a girl and
boy's dream," Eleanour answered, hurriedly.
" Never mind the pictures — let us go back
to the drawing-room. "
"My share of the dream has been mo-
tive strong enough to make me work my
way up in life with clenched teeth and
clenched hands, and — "
" I cannot hear this, Mr. Edler. I am
sorry, very sorry — "
BOND AND FREE. 19
" Am I to give up the hope that I
have held so long — utterly — at once ? "
He spoke quietly, but his lips whitened
and his eyes flamed.
" In a few months I shall marry Mr.
Mason."
" Thank you for that much of frank-
ness. You may continue to rely upon my
discreet silence concerning the past. For
your future, I wish you all happiness. I
have a feeling that we do not part for
ever to-day. Time will show. I shall
never love any other woman, even if I
meet with one more worthy of constant
love."
She could not tell if he were most
hurt or angry, grieved or contemptuous.
She could not even tell to what extent
he had been serious. He was gone ; and,
holding Wilfred's portrait in her hand, she
went back into a dream of the past — of
c2
20 BOND AND FREE.
the past when she had loved Hermann
von Edler, a poor Art student — from which
dream she roused herself with a sigh.
" And so he has remembered me all
these years, it seems ! " she said to herself,
as she went slowly back to the room where
she had left Wilfred. " And a little of
the love I lavish upon Wilfred, and might
almost as well lavish upon his effigy in
marble, would bring Hermann to my feet —
ready to die there with rapture. I cannot
help it — I cannot help it ! It is my fate
and not my fault."
21
CHAPTER II.
" The soul is lapped in a false peace serene ;
Fate, with the stern face of an angry friend,
Heading a band of troubles, steps between."
On a perfectly fair summer evening,
having perfect promise of a perfect mor-
row, Eleanour and Wilfred were together —
on the hill behind the cottage where
Wilfred had so long lodged. At the
little church of Thorndon they were to
be married in three days.
Eleanour sat on the trunk of a felled
tree, leaning back against a spreading
oak, and Wilfred lay at her feet. He
22 BOND AND FREE.
had been thinking and speaking of his
past life — always a lonely, often a mise-
rable life ; whether miserable or not,
always an unanchored, unsatisfied, unsatis-
factory life. He had been speaking also
of the persistent Fate which had brought
his life and Eleanour's together — of their
meeting on the wild Welsh shore, on
the Rhine boat, and on the white road
near the quiet little English village ; and
as he thought and spoke, he gazed upon
his beautiful betrothed, and felt only gra-
titude for her love, tender affection for
herself, and an earnest determination to do
what in him lay to make her happy.
Eleanour was beautiful to-night, content
dwelt on her mouth, happiness shone
from her eyes, and her brow was calm
and serene : the hand and arm resting on
Wilfred's shoulder were a marvel of blue-
veined, creamy whiteness, of satin smooth
BOND AND FREE. 23
softness ; his lips were often pressed upon
that hand and arm.
By-and-by Wilfred took out his note-
book, the same in which he had often
written at Heidelberg ; he scribbled down
some verses — read them to Eleanour —
and, as he listened to her fond praise,
let the book fall by his side, without
heeding that it did so.
" I wish I had my colour-box and
sketch-book, that I, too, might make a
tiny sketch by which to recall this happy
evening ! " Eleanour said.
" Let me fetch them — tell me where to
find them."
" I will not have you go — it was
only a passing whim. If I had my things
I should not use them — I am too idly
happy."
" But I should like you to make just
a small sketch to-night — of the common,
24 BOND AND FREE.
the low purple hills, and the sky. Where
are your box and your book ? "
" In my room, I believe — Mary will
find them ; but I do not want you to
go for them, and I do not think I shall
let you go."
She bent over him, imprisoned him
with her arms, and kissed him. For a
few moments he allowed himself to be
her prisoner. The drowsy hum of summer
insects, the languid whisper of the wind
among the trees, the subdued glory that
was over everything, combined to steep
his soul in a soft, luxurious dreaminess,
from which he roused himself with effort.
The church clock struck eight.
" Kelease me, darling," he said. " I
really want a sketch made to-night, ever
so slight a one — if I do not get your
colours now, it will be too dark."
He ran down the hill, pausing and turning
BOND AND FREE. 25
once to say — " You are sure you do not mind
remaining there alone — I will be very quick."
He was soon out of sight of Eleanour's
worshipping eyes.
It was a long time before the maid
could find her mistress's sketch-book and
colours, such things not being in her de-
partment. When at last she gave them
to Wilfred he hastened back to where he
had left Eleanour, and found her gone.
He searched for her through the small
wood ; calling her again and again ; then,
full of vague alarm, he rushed back to
the house.
Mr. Narpenth was alone in the drawing-
room.
" Where is Eleanour ? " Wilfred asked
eagerly.
" What have you done to her ? is the
question. Have you been quarrelling at
the eleventh hour?"
26 BOND AND FREE.
"You have seen her? She is safe in
the house, then ? "
" 1 met her in the garden a few mo-
ments after I saw you rush off towards
the hill. She came out of the shrubbery.
I told her you had just gone to rejoin
her. She did not open her lips, but en-
tered the house and went to her own room.,,
" Thank God she is safe ! But it is
very strange that she should not have
waited."
" Have you had no quarrel, then ? "
"None whatever."
" That something has happened I am
sure, by Eleanour's face."
" She must be ill. May I go to her
door and speak to her ? "
"You had better."
Wilfred bounded up the stairs and knocked
at the closed door. He called to Eleanour
in a voice of anxious entreaty. He received
BOND AND FREE. 27
no answer, and heard no sound. Trying
the door, he found it locked.
" Speak to me, Eleanour — just a word —
just to say that you are not ill — only
speak to me ! "
Still he did not receive the slightest
answer, or hear the slightest sound. He
returned to Mr. Narpenth to beg that the
door might be forced open ; he felt sure
that Eleanour must have been seized with
sudden illness — what else could have hap-
pened ? The words Mr. Narpenth greeted
him with, however, stopped those that were
upon his own lips.
" See here ! " — pointing to the first para-
graph of the Times, which lay open on the
table before him — " Ireton is dead ! — died
yesterday — suddenly ! "
Wilfred turned deathly pale; spider-like
and icy-cold spirit fingers seemed to move
among the roots of his hair.
28 BOND AND FREE.
"Be composed, and let us think what is
to be done," Mr. Narpenth said. " Your mar-
riage may, perhaps, have to be postponed for
a few days ; a change of name will make
more work for the lawyers. The first thing to
be done is for you to open the packet you
possess. Where is it ? Can it be opened at
once ? I suppose you keep it about you."
" The packet ? — my mother's letter ? It
is in the keeping of — of a friend, who is
abroad. I must take a long journey to
reclaim it."
" That is vexatious — it will lengthen the
delay and suspense."
" I had better start to-night."
" Certainly."
" But I must see Eleanour first."
" Of course. I will order the carriage
to take you to town — meanwhile you can
see Eleanour."
" I will at least attempt to do so."
BOND AND FREE. 29
Again Wilfred stood before the closed
door, his heart beating violently. This time
he heard a heavy pacing to and fro. When
he spoke there was a pause. He hurriedly
explained that he was about to start on a
journey — explained the nature of his errand,
and entreated Eleanour to let him see her first.
Just as — his patience exhausted — he was
about to turn from the obdurate door, it
opened, and Eleanour stood before him. Her
appearance shocked him : he started back
from her — the face that had been so beau-
tiful and so happy a face a few hours be-
fore had no beauty now — no beauty of
form, colour, or expression ; it was distorted
by passion, disfigured by rage and hate: the
eyes, swollen and inflamed as they were,
would alone have marred the loveliness of
the most perfect face.
Before Wilfred could recover from the
shock her appearance gave him sufficiently
30 BOND AND FREE.
to address her Eleanour spoke — in a harsh,
imperious voice that seemed as strange to
him as her altered face.
"You are going to Heidelberg?"
" Yes."
" Yes ; and the letter which ' is in a
friend's keeping'? is that friend a girl —
Felicia Southern?"
"Yes."
"Yes/' she echoed mockingly, with an
evil sneer on her lips. For a moment her
eyes flamed furiously into his ; then she drew
back, and closed the door upon him. So
they parted.
Wilfred lingered a few moments; when he
turned away, he felt utterly confused : it
seemed to him impossible that what had
just passed should be real — he felt that
he must be wandering through the mazes
of a bad dream ; but he could not wake !
When day dawned he was nearing the coast.
31
CHAPTER III.
" In that so heavenly mild and pure fair face,
Pity hath love's, and love hath pity's grace :
Which is the sweeter shining in that place —
Or where one ends, and where begins the other,
No human eyes may, surely, ere discover."
Heidelberg, in its full summer glory, was
thronged by tourists and pleasure-seekers.
Wilfred's face of pale desperation was in
strong contrast with the gay and sun-
burned faces of the people he met ; it
drew many eyes upon him as he crossed
the square, on his way to the small house
in the terraced garden.
Occupied by one intense curiosity, one
32 BOND AND FREE.
absorbing desire, it was not till he had
turned from the hot and dusty road into
the green and shady garden — not till, the
ladies being out, he sat alone in the vine-
screened parlour, which had been the scene
of so many happy hours, waiting for their
return — that the full idea of the pain and
embarrassment this sudden meeting would
cause presented himself to him.
He found that it would not do to think,
and he strove to turn his attention outward
— observing how the vine had grown over
the window without, and how the ivy within
had made new shoots — so that the sun
could hardly penetrate the leafy screen.
The wind stirred the snowy curtains ;
the room was dim and cool — to Wilfred's
fevered blood it struck cold ; now and
again he shivered. A vase of white
roses stood on Felicia's table, another near
Mrs. Southern's arm-chair ; some work and
BOND AND FREE. 33
a few books lay about the scrupulously
neat room ; everything seemed to speak to
him of Felicia. He leant his brow on the
folded arms which rested on her little
table, and listened to the whirling in his
brain, and the irregular pulsation of his
heart while he waited.
Evening fell ; the dimness of the room
had increased to duskness when, at last,
Felicia and her mother passed the window.
Mrs. Southern came first — walking and
talking briskly. Felicia's step was slow
and, Wilfred fancied, weary. At the house-
door Mrs. Southern paused, so that Felicia
entered the room first ; she came in with
a thoughtful brow, and with downcast eyes
that saw nothing.
Wilfred spoke abruptly, before she had
seen him.
" The letter — my mother's letter ;
VOL. in. D
34 BOND AND FREE.
nothing else could have brought me. I
want the letter."
" Then like a ghost she lifted up her face,
And like a ghost without the power to speak."
Mrs. Southern followed almost imme-
diately upon her daughter, and to her
Wilfred explained his errand.
A few moments afterwards Felicia stood
before him, offering him the long-kept
packet. As he took it, he met the sweet
pity of her eyes : recalling her face, as it
looked then, when he had left it far
behind, he knew that it was paler and
thinner than he had been used to see it —
but he also knew that it was wonderfully
clear and untroubled.
" We will leave you," Mrs. Southern
said, passing her arm round Felicia, as
Wilfred broke the seal.
" No ; lend me your eyes ; read for me,
I cannot read it," he cried.
BOND AND FREE. 35
There was not light enough for Mrs.
Southern. Felicia took the letter, held it
close to the window, and read : —
11 When you have opened this, go
quickly to your guardian's house, if you
should at that time be absent from it.
There you will hear of your mother. If
she is dead — or must still, for your good,
be dead to you — Martha Smith shall then
have power to tell you all that you may
know about her. If she is alive and
free to claim her son, she herself will
meet you there. I am growing strong,
Wilfred, in the hcpe of some day meet-
ing my son. I shall live to be old, yet
your guardian believes that I am dying —
will believe that I am dead. God for-
give me this one more deceit — this for your
sake, my heart's darling, because I will
not be a link between you and shame.
God grant me strength to persevere and so
d2
36 BOND AND FREE.
save you from the knowledge of your father."
The letter was dated — a date of five-
and- twenty years ago.
" Read it again ! " Wilfred twice en-
treated.
With haggard eyes, he watched Felicia
as she read : quiet tears streamed down
her white face, and the last daylight
seemed to linger upon it.
" Your poor, poor mother ! " the girl
breathed out softly.
" My mother ! "
" Will you not thank God that she lives
to have the joy of seeing her son ? I
feel that she does live. Will you not thank
God that you have a mother ? "
" My mother lives — I have a mother ! "
Wilfred appeared as if stunned. He did
not remove his eyes from Felicia's agitated
face ; he seemed only capable of echoing
her words.
BOND AND FREE. 37
" Go away, dear child — go away for a
little while," Mrs. Southern said.
She led her daughter from the room, and
then she took a seat close to Wilfred; she
laid her hand on his, spoke to him, and
strove, as tenderly and as sedulously as if
he had been her son, to rouse and soothe
him. After a time he said : —
"I will thank God for infinite goodness,
if my mother still lives. If she still lives,
I will find her."
His face lit up with inexpressible rap-
ture, and he rose, adding,
" I have no time to lose. God reward
you for your sympathy, and make me less
unworthy of it, and of a mother's love."
"Can you take no rest — no refreshment?"
"I shall not rest, nor eat, till I have
found her. I will find her : even if she
still tries to hide herself, I will find her.
I will joyfully take upon myself what-
38 BOND AND FREE.
ever grief and shame she has borne alone
all these long years."
He paused at the door, and looked
round the room wistfully — but he did not
see Felicia again.
Late into the night the mother and
daughter talked of Wilfred, and of Wilfred's
mother.
"I do not know what to hope/' Mrs.
Southern said. "It may be that it would
be better for him to find that she is dead.
One cannot tell what her sins may have
been ; one can hardly believe that she is
a good woman."
"Think how unselfishly she -must have
loved her child, though, mamma — to have
given him up for what she thought his good,
and to have kept her secret for his sake all
these lonely years. I do hope she lives,
that she may have some happy years to
make up for all."
BOND AND FREE. 39
"Wilfred will now, perhaps, have to
choose between his mother and his bride.
His mother may be such a woman as it
would be too great a trial for any girl to
accept as a constant companion.''"
aLet us hope the best, mamma. It
seems to me that there must be something
very noble about Wilfred's mother, or she
could not have acted as she has done. I
suppose it was wrong of her, because it
was rot natural, to give up her child; but
surer/- it was grandly unselfish."
" f her motives were all good and pure,
it wis. Any way, she must have suffered
crudly, poor thing ! We will, as you say,
mj daughter, hope the best."
" I have a strangely strong feeling that
al will end happily."
" Good child ! may you be a true prophet."
40
CHAPTER IV.
"While he lived, I feared his scorn:
He is cold — I creep forlorn
To his feet. I weep and mourn,
Would he could rise and would strike me ddd!
Pityful God ! what words have I said !
O wipe them out with the tears I shed."
Again, once again, and after so many ysars,
Wilfred stood before his guardian's buse
— stood waiting to be let in at the (lice
familiar door. He had reached it just at dawi,
the fiery dawn of a wild and windy da?.
The rosy glare struck against black blarfe
windows, and found no entrance. The hous*
that had always been a dead house was
now a house of death; but it could not
BOND AND FREE. 41
well look more gloomy than it had always
been wont to look since Wilfred remem-
bered it.
The door was opened to him by Mrs,
Smith.
" Is she here ? — my mother ? " was his
question.
"Yes." She added, beneath her breath.
"I shouldn't have known you. I suppose,
though, it is Mr. Wilfred."
The door closed, shutting out light and
air — shutting Wilfred within the dusky,
mouldy-smelling house. Just then a cry
rang through the dead silence ; it was not
loud, yet it seemed to pierce him through
both heart and brain.
As the cry rang out there came down
the stairs a woman, the whiteness of whose
face was conspicuous in that dusky twi-
light ; she fell heavily into Wilfred's arms,
instinctively held out towards her, clasping
42 BOND AND FREE.
hers round him with a clasp like that of
one dying. After her cry and the words,
" my son ! my son ! " she did not speak,
and her arms fell from round him.
" Poor worn-out thing ! Likely enough
she has swooned. She has watched for
you so long, and had most given you
up. Can you carry her, Mr. Wilfred, just
in here ? "
Mrs. Smith opened the door of the
dining-room as she spoke, and proceeded
to unclose the shutters ; but the fasten-
ings were rusty, and she fumbled over
them some time. As Wilfred groped his
way into the dark room, carrying his
mother, its chilly, sepulchral atmosphere
struck to his heart. The obstinate fasten-
ings at last giving way, light streamed in
and fell on the face of Mrs. Lister. With
a cry for air, Wilfred sank half-fainting
upon the ground beside the couch on
BOND AND FREE. 43
which he had deposited his burden. The
cool morning-wind, blowing in keenly and
kindly, soon restored him.
* # # # *
The funeral was fixed to take place
upon that day. A few hours after their
meeting the mother and son went together
to the room where the dead man lay.
Wilfred saw his mother bow down and
press her lips upon the dead hand, mur-
muring, " for the last time." Then she
knelt beside the coffin, hiding her face
from him and from the light. He saw how
she was shaken by convulsive sobs. Stand-
ing by in reverent silence, he marvelled
greatly, thinking " she loved this man,
then." When she rose, he drew her arm
through his, and led her away ; but the
lingering look she cast upon the face of
the stern dead, the deep remorse expressed
by the few words she dropped, made a
44 BOND AND FREE.
deep and painful impression upon her son.
When the dead man had been lain in
the ground, and all the duties of the day
fulfilled, Wilfred and his mother sat to-
gether in the dull dining-room. It was
not a house and this was not a time in
which that woman's heart could feel the
full measure of any joy ; but as she met
the concentration of unutterable tenderness
which shone from her son's eyes, her heart
literally leapt with happiness.
aDo not love me yet — do not call me
mother yet," she said, checking her joy
in awe of its fullness. " You must hear
much first. Before you decide to give your
erring mother an honourable place in your
heart you must be her judge."
He kissed her hand, and held it pressed
against his cheek.
" For myself, I do not want to know
anything, except that you are the mother
BOND AND FREE. 45
who has suffered so much, and so long,
for my sake — and from whom, except for
a few hours, I never mean to part."
" i Never mean to part ! ' and Eleanour — "
" I have wronged her cruelly — she must
judge me. Till I have seen her again, I
can tell you nothing, except that we — you
and I — will not part."
"You shall not make this sacrifice for
me ; if you love her, I will not stand
between you."
"Alas ! it is not in my power to
make any sacrifice. I have been very
weak and very wicked. Eleanour, when
she knows all, will despise me and give
me up. I shall be frank, and tell her
all, doing her a very tardy justice. By
this time she would have been my wife
— my poor, wronged Eleanour ! "
" I wonder has she been frank with
you?"
46 BOND AND FREE.
"She has shown devotion and disinter-
ested passion. I have been treacherous,
and — I cannot bear to think of my weak
wickedness. I shall have no rest till I
have ended all. Dear mother, tell me
quickly just such bare facts as I ought
to tell Mr. Narpenth: my father's name
— his — his crime. Is he still alive?"
All joy died out of the mother's face.
"No — no, he is not alive, or you would
not have found me here," she answered.
"His name — and yours, alas, my poor, poor
boy — was well enough known five-and-
twenty years ago. But he is dead — no
one can force it on us now. Tell Mr.
Narpenth that you are Verbane's son.
You need say no more. The son of a man
who betrayed his friend's trust, who was
a thief, a forger, and, in intent, a mur-
derer. Do not shrink from me — indeed
he is dead, or I would never have claimed
BOND AND FREE. 47
you. He died three years ago, but it
was only five days ago that I got certain
tidings of his death. You shall see the
letter; there is no room for doubt. Oh,
yes ! Mr. Narpenth knows your father's
name ; once, when I was by, speaking of
execrable criminals he described the career
of your father and my husband."
Suddenly the poor woman fell on her
knees, raised her clasped hands, and
cried : —
"Oh, God! visit not my sins, and the
sins of his father, on this, my innocent
son. Turn not his heart against his
mother. Be pityful to him, and strengthen
him to bear his burden."
"Mother, be calm, or I dare not leave
you," Wilfred said, as he raised her. "I
solemnly declare that I will love, cherish,
and reverence you always. I solemnly
declare that this knowledge is to me as
48 BOND AND FREE.
nothing — that the joy of finding a mother
far outweighs everything else ; and that,
in my eyes, and, I believe, in God's
also, the love you have borne me, and
the patience with which you have suffered
for me, blot out any sin or transgression
of yours. You shall not make me your
judge, mother ; I am content and proud
to be your son."
49
CHAPTER V.
** Was dahin ist und vergangen,
Kami's die Liebe seyn ?
Hirer Flamme Himmels-gluth
Stirbt sie, wie ein irdisch Gut ? "
The dewy garden was cool and peaceful,
Thorndon House, all open-windowed, turned
a sunny, every-day face towards Wilfred,
as he approached it early in the morning.
Mr. Narpenth, taking his usual before-
breakfast stroll, suddenly came into con-
tact with a man so travel-soiled, so hollow-
cheeked, and feverish-eyed, that in him
he did not immediately recognize Wilfred.
VOL. HI. E
50 BOND AND FREE.
When he did recognize him, he greeted
him in a confused manner, and began to
hurry him towards the house, saying : —
" See Eleanour, Mason — see Eleanour !
No explanations to me — see Eleanour,
Mason, see Eleanour ! "
" Not l Mason ' — Yerbane is, I find, my
name — and I mean to bear it."
Wilfred watched the effect of these words,
expecting some sudden recoil from him who
claimed this name.
" Yerbane," echoed Mr. Narpenth; " I have
some associations with the name — at pre-
sent, I cannot recall when, or where, or
how, I have heard it ; but see Eleanour,
my good fellow, see Eleanour ; I do not
pretend to understand her, but I think
you will find that we have no longer any
more right to your secret than has all the
rest of the world. I have had no expla-
nation with Eleanour — she will not have
BOND AND FREE. 51
your name mentioned; what the cause of
this rapid change is — whether she has just
cause for anger — I do not know. I am
very sorry for you. I wish you well .
through the meeting — I wish you well in
every way. I shall always remember that
you have a claim on me — that you saved
my girl's life — and, whatever happens, I
shall wish you, too, to remember this."
He grasped Wilfred's hand, and pushed
him within the breakfast-room door. Wil-
fred heard him call his daughter, and then
leave the house again.
He had to wait — to wait cruelly long;
and he was already faint and weary. Mr.
Narpenth's words had, for the first time,
recalled to him the exact nature of his
parting with Eleanour. At last she came
into the room. Her face was sullen and
resentful — in her hand she carried a small
book.
E 2
52 BOND AND FREE.
She spoke first, with cold abruptness.
" Of course, I know your errand," she
said ; " of course, you remember how we
parted ; remembering that, you will un-
derstand my saying, that I have no inte-
rest in any revelations you may have come
here to make. I hasten to say this, be-
cause you shall not have it in your power
to say that anything external to yourself
made me give you up — that I shrank from
sharing your fortune when it was clouded
over, or refused to take a name to which
disgrace was attached. Neither — if good
fortune has fallen to you and you are come
to tell me that, no longer needing my
wealth, you mean to share your prosperity
with the girl you love — shall you have
power to insult me by renouncing me. Ke-
member that, before you have spoken, I say,
I give you up and never wish to see
your false face again ! "
BOND AND FREE. 53
" If you thank Heaven for the inter-
position which hinders your now being my
wife, you do well — but ."
" Most fervently do I thank Heaven for the
interposition — which is not what you think."
" You have cause for gratitude. It would
have been no enviable lot to have linked
your life with that of a man doomed to
bear a dishonoured name. A man, too,
whom you have so readily learnt to hate.
I do not understand what has changed
your feelings, and I overlook the studied
insult you have cast upon me. You are
angry — I accept that anger as my due,
though in some ways you do me less than
justice. Knowing what I now know, my
name and the character of my father "
"Stop!" she interrupted, imperiously; "I
swear that if you could now say {and if I
could believe your words) i Eleanour, I love
you, and of all women desire you only as
54 BOND AND FREE.
my wife,' — if you could say this, and I
could believe this, I would to-day become
your wife. You cannot say this. You have
used me wickedly and deceitfully — you have
let me throw myself at your feet and into
your arms, while your heart, if it beat at
all, beat for another woman. For what mo-
tive you have done this, you only know.
My blood burns when I think of the love
I have wasted on you — of the passion I
have felt for you. I feel that passion
still — changed to hate. It is because you
are nothing I believed you to be that I
give you up — that I hate you and despise
you. Yes, sir, hate you. You have humili-
ated me cruelly — you have trampled upon
me — you have set me up as a foil to a
meek rival — you have coldly and devilishly
played with my heart — you "
Her passionate voice broke down ; she
flung herself upon a couch and wept
BOND AND FREE. 55
stormily. He stood by her, waiting till
there was a chance of being heard.
"You have said little that I did not
deserve, Eleanour," he began at last. "I
came here to-day determined to make a
full confession to you, and to throw myself
upon your mercy. You seem to know
more than all my guilt. From what
source you have gained your knowledge —
who has borne witness against me, I can-
not guess — I — "
"You have borne witness against your-
self/' she cried. "Do you not recognize
this? Do you not remember what is
written in it ? "
Her eyes flashing through tears, she
held up the book which he had lost on
the hill and had not missed, and shook
a folded paper from it.
In a moment now he understood it all.
That little book contained both food for
56 BOND AND FREE.
the jealousy of a jealous woman, and for
the indignation of a just one. Many-
poems in it, passionate in Felicia's praise,
had been scribbled down on feverish wake-
ful nights at Heidelberg ; never having
been looked at by that daylight which
they could so ill bear, they had since, till
this moment, been completely forgotten.
" You have read the contents of this
book?" Wilfred asked.
"Every word. Looking into it that
evening on the hill, I soon found I had
read too much, or not enough. I took
it to my room and read more. Your
false heart lay bare before me. I had
indeed done you less than justice when I
thought you cold."
Wilfred stood silent and abashed, while
Eleanour scorned him with eye and tongue.
The only mitigation of his guilt that he
could have pleaded — her having bestowed
BOND AND FREE. 57
her love on him unsought — it would have
been an insult to her, and a farther injury,
to plead. So he stood a silent mark for
her scorn. But her tone changed sud-
denly to one of anguish as she said : —
"Wilfred ! you have made the whole
world an evil world for me. You have
poisoned my whole life — you have de-
prived me of faith in the truth and
honour of man. How I shall endure to
live I do not know ! Would you had
let me die on that Welsh shore long ago.
Oh! Wilfred, why, why did you deceive me
— me who loved you so ? "
" Be merciful, Eleanour ! Each word of
yours goes to my heart. Be merciful! I
attempt no justification — God knows I have
sinned against you ! It is no defence to
say that I was more weak than wicked in
my sin. But he merciful ! "
" Heaven only knows how I have loved
58 BOND AND FREE.
you ! — you who loved another. We must
never meet again. Go now, and remember
we must never meet again."
" I shall pray for your happiness, Elea-
nour. I would, for your sake and mine,
that you could let me carry away some
assurance of your forgiveness. It is true,
that I have never loved you with the
one love, Eleanour ; but I did not know
that surely till the last few months. If
I had married you, it would have been
the study of my life to make you happy
— to reward you for your generous, de-
voted love."
"Stop ! Say no more — I cannot bear
your voice ! Go quickly. I do not want
to have my anger wiped out ! I do not
want to feel that you have been little more
wrong than I ! " She had seized his arm
with both her hands as she bade him leave
BOND AND FREE. 59
her. Gazing into his face, the thought
crossed her —
" He will not live to be Felicia's. He
is dying ! "
" I do forgive you," she said aloud. " The
blame has not been all yours."
" God reward you for those words of
forgiveness, Eleanour."
Suddenly, stormily she closed him in her
arms, drew his head down to a level with
her own, and pressed her lips to his again
and again.
"I did love you!" she cried; "and I
shall never, never, see you again ! God
pity me, for I think I love you still ! "
Those last words of hers were barely
audible. As Wilfred staggered from the
house Eleanour rushed to her own room.
60
CHAPTER VI.
"Wer harrte liebend bei mir aus?
Wer steht mir trostend noch zur Seite?"
The mother took her weary son home — to
a cottage near Tyngelt, a small town in
a mining district, not far from the coast.
This cottage had been her own retreat
since she left Mr. Narpenth's. Up and
down a natural terrace near the top of
one of the swelling green hills which rose
behind the cottage Wilfred paced one serene
September afternoon. He had been ill, and
was still weak, with that delicious weakness
of convalescence which is as a sense of new
birth, giving a charm of exquisite freshness
BOND AND FREE. 61
to all pleasures both of soul and sense.
The terrace up and down which he paced —
often pausing to gaze out seawards — over-
looked a small bay, in which emerald-green
and crystal-clear water was for ever fretting
itself into foaminess among black and jagged
rocks. The little bay was one of a chain
of similar bays, and Wilfred from his eleva-
tion could see the deeply-indented, ship-
wrecking coast, guarded by fearfully-fantastic
gigantic blocks of broken cliff, stretching
away on either side of it. It was
late afternoon now ; the white sea-birds
were whirling homewards, glittering in the
level beams and against the deepening blue
of the cloudless sky : their human-like
screams and weird laughter were the only
sounds that reached Wilfred ; for, though
the water imprisoned in the bay fretted
and foamed, the sea was a calm expanse,
into which the sun would soon dip calmly;
62 BOND AND FREE.
and there was no roar and dash of heavy
breakers to send their voices to where he stood.
On this scene Wilfred gazed with a feel-
ing as of consciousness of moving beneath
a new heaven, upon a new earth. His
mother's love had apparently exercised a
renewing power upon his spiritual as upon
his physical life ; his mother's love, which
seemed to him a love compounded of all
that is best in all human loves ; a love
quiet in its perfectness, its utter meekness,
and its freedom from all taint of selfish-
ness. " A soul shall be saved by love."
Through and by such a love, would not
a nature like Wilfred's be surely drawn
unto God's love ? To-day he wept and
was not ashamed, as his thoughts dwelt
long upon the infinity of God's love and
mercy, manifested to him. He felt as if
all burdens had fallen from his soul — as if
he were free to walk — free spirit through
BOND AND FREE. 63
free life — on and on towards eternity, bearing
only the cross which, voluntarily taken up,
is no burden.
All mortals, till they yield up their
wills, move beneath a sense of weight.
Mere existence is a burden. Some groan
beneath, and fret against, and curse their
load : others recognize in it a glorious
symbol of immortality — the presence of a
dim consciousness of power, superfluous to
all the requirements of this life, which
the will ever vainly strives to use and to
comprehend. It is only when we take up
the cross that we can wholly throw off all
other burdens. The bearing of that cross of
utter resignation to God's will — which seems
possible to so few till they are unwilled by
the hand of death — precludes the conscious-
ness of other burdens.
The blow which he had dreaded all his
life had fallen. Wilfred found himself heir
64 BOND AND FREE.
to a disgraced name — the son of a father
whose fame was infamy. Instead of sink-
ing beneath a knowledge the mere dread
of which had done so much to crush all
true manliness out of him, he began to
see that it was the striving of his own
will against God's will — consequent upon
the want of faith — that had wearied him
and weakened him, till he had possessed
no strength to bear his real burdens — or
to fight the fight with self and sense re-
quired of all men — but had allowed him-
self to fall into that abject passivity be-
neath the sway of his own passions,
which had made him alternately the play-
thing and the slave of circumstance.
Planting firmer feet upon the soil, raising
resolute eyes to heaven, Wilfred asked for
strength and life to make his future dif-
ferent— strength and life to do some ser-
vice to God by serving his fellow-men.
BOND AND FREE. 65
The sun set into the sea ; the wind
sprang up suddenly, driving the tide into
the rocky bay with greater force; the sea-
birds after congregating on the cliffs gra-
dually disappeared in their crevices. Wilfred
turned his eyes towards the nest-like cot-
tage at the foot of the hill ; he saw his
mother come out into the small garden and
look upwards, seeking him; a few moments
brought him to her side.
"You stayed rather late— it is cold for
you — come in and drink the coffee I have
made," was her greeting.
They went in arm-in-arm, and Wilfred
was made to rest by the bright little fire
which had been kindled in his absence.
" What are these ? " he asked, pointing
to old letters and newspapers which were
arranged upon the table.
" I shall be happier when you know all.
I want you to read these to-night — what
VOL. III. F
66 BOND AND FREE.
they do not tell you I have written on
this paper."
"And it has pained you! I see it in
your face, and hear it in your voice. Did
I not tell you that I was satisfied to have
you for my mother — that I wanted to know
no more ? "
"It is for his sake — that you may think
of him more justly "
" For his sake ! My father's ? "
"I was not thinking of your father, but
of — of your guardian," she said, in- a voice
low and tremulous. There followed silence.
" I shall leave you/' she added, pre-
sently ; "I have promised to visit a sick
woman in the village to-night — I could
not bear to sit by you while you read
these."
After lingering a few moments — lighting
the candles, drawing the curtains, and
making up the fire — she left the house.
BOND AND FREE. 67
Wilfred, contending with almost invincible
reluctance, turned to those papers.
At seventeen Hesther Grey had allowed
herself to be betrothed to Mr. Ireton,
then thirty-seven. She was an orphan,
and not happy with the relatives under
whose care she had been placed. She
had not found out that she had a heart :
she respected Mr. Ireton, and was flat-
tered by his preference.
Soon after the engagement, however, a
young relative of her aunt's — who was the
son of Ireton's oldest and dearest friend,
and filled a confidential post in his employ —
came on a visit to the quiet country-
house which he had never before honoured
by his presence. Whether mere idle love
of mischief or deliberate malice prompted
this first visit of Wilfred Verbane's, no
one could tell. Mr. Ireton, always a
diligent man of business, was especially
f2
68 BOND AND FREE.
occupied at that time — working doubly
then, for leisure by-and-by, and using
present leisure to superintend the building
of a house in a spot where Hesther had
once said she should like to live. His
visits to his betrothed were few : he was
a man of deeds, not words, and his
short, dry letters revealed to her eager
and inexperienced eyes little of the love
and tenderness treasured up in the store-
house of his heart, to be one day lavished
on his young wife.
That first visit of Wilfred Verbane's
was repeated ; he took care to let Hesther
know, and to conceal from everyone else,
that she was the attraction which drew
him to Stone Hall. That he might go to
work more unsuspectedly, he paid open
court to the daughter of a neighbouring
house. Cold and cautious when others
were present, he was ardent and daring when
BOND AND FREE. 69
he found himself alone with his young
and beautiful victim. He fed his love by
hate at first — for he hated his employer ;
afterwards he fed his hate by love, for he
soon began to feel the passion he had
feigned. Only a few years older than
Hesther — but used to society and admira-
tion, experienced in evil, and practised in
most ways of wickedness — singularly hand-
some, with a manner towards women of
soft caressing fascination — gifted with the
ready and superficial cleverness that ensures
success in the world and dazzles the in-
experienced, and also with the perfect self-
confidence which looks like unconscious
frankness — accustomed from infancy to com-
pass his own ends by deceit and cunning,
and perfectly unfettered by any principles
likely to impose self-restraint — -Wilfred
Verbane succeeded in captivating the fancy
and rousing the passions of the girl for
70 BOND AND FREE.
whom his love was such as an utterly-
selfish and sensual nature is capable of.
Love, revenge, and self-interest — for Hesther
was an heiress — all combined to make
him determine that he would win her.
He gained his footing, step by step,
leaving no way of winning influence un-
tried. He practised upon her natural
indignation at Mr. Ireton's apparent neg-
lect, till he had fanned it into a fierce
flame : by dwelling on his harsh sternness
he deepened her slight awe of him into
positive fear ; and he worked upon her
tender-heartedness, speaking pathetically of
his own sad position, orphaned and de-
pendent upon a tyrant.
All this was done gradually, subtly —
so skilfully, that her heart melted towards
the schemer, as it rebelled against his
master ; while, insensibly to herself, her
pity for the oppressed, and resentment
BOND AND FREE. 71
against the oppressor, combined to feed a
clandestine passion. A servant-girl in the
house was bribed, and taken into the
confidence of the lovers. Notes contain-
ing expressions of most devoted, ardent,
and despairing passion found their way to
the victim's chamber, under her very
pillow — read by stealth, and at night, they
did their work well.
At last, moved by his representations
that he could see her in no other way,
without betraying his passion to others —
and by his threats of self-destruction if
she refused to comply with his entreaty —
Hesther consented to give Verbane a secret
meeting in the plantation at night. His pas-
sion was real enough now; he exerted all his
eloquence in pleading it, and extorted a con-
fession that it was not unreturned. From
that time she was made to feel that she
was in his power. He bound her to secrecy
72 BOND AND FREE.
by the most solemn oath ; and no subse-
quent prayers of hers, to be allowed to
throw herself at her betrothed's feet and
confess all, availed to win her release.
He gave her little time for reflection ;
they met constantly — always secretly now.
He kept her passions awake, her con-
science asleep, and worked alike upon
her fear and love, till the very eve of
the time fixed for her marriage with Mr.
Ireton.
The bridegroom, loaded with gifts — and
wearing in his heart the jewel of a deep
and tender, though undemonstrative, love —
came to fetch home his bride. The very
night before the wedding-day the favoured
lover decoyed the bride away. At mid-
night she stole from the house to meet
him, and by morning she was scores of
miles from the village church which was
being adorned for her bridal — scores of
BOND AND FREE. 73
miles from the one true heart which alone
loved her.
"It is her treachery that maddens me/'
Mr. Ireton said, in a letter to Hesther's
aunt, written some days after the elope-
ment. " I hate myself for the veriest of
fools, when I think of the soft nonsense
I talked to her that last night — of the
rapture I felt when I kissed her cheek
— of the timidity with which I pressed
my lips upon it, where his have been
pressed a hundred times — the first woman's
cheek I have kissed since I was a boy.
Her cheek was hot — ay, and it was guilt,
not, as I thought, modesty, that made it
burn. Well, she has chosen a miserable
lot. I find he is more a villain than I
thought at first. I am robbed and cheated
to an extent that will be my ruin, and
that of others with me. It was not mere
malice that dictated the time of the elope-
74 BOND AND FREE.
ment. In my absence everything was in
his hands. He has shown a calculating
scoundrelism which is positively devilish.
My curse will be, that I shall never be
able to forgive. If he had but spared
my honest name — but his forgeries have
blackened that for ever."
Too noble to seek a revenge that must
strike the woman whom he had loved,
he was not noble enough to forgive; and
this proved indeed the curse of his life.
In his first despair he let ruin come
and met it stoically ; afterwards, the dreary
aim of his life was to retrieve, to more
than retrieve, his position, and to make
reparation to those who had been involved
with him.
Hesther lived abroad with her husband
for a few years, till he had spent her whole
fortune, had dragged her through various
depths of misery and degradation, and was
BOND AND FREE. 75
tired of her. A depraved husband will
necessarily drag a woman downward — God
only can see to what extent her descent
is voluntary.
When all their money was spent, Yerbane
brought his wife to England ; where he en-
tered upon a fresh career of crime. His
last exploit was to attempt the life of his
former employer : he was convicted of the
minor offence of house-breaking, and trans-
ported— but not for life.
From the newspapers Wilfred obtained
full particulars of the trial and sentence;
of the demeanour of "the wretched culprit,"
his father, and of his prosecutor.
It was when her boy, whom she had
supported by the work of her hands, began
to grow out of infancy, and her own health
became feeble and uncertain, that a ghastly
terror took possession of the mother — a
terror lest her son should fall some day
76 BOND AND FREE.
into his father's hands — learn to tread in
his father's footsteps — shamed by the bear-
ing of a branded name — rebelling against
her weak, worshipping, insufficient sway —
or, by her death, left without even that
poor shield. This terror, gaming complete
possession of her shaken faculties, gra-
dually led her up to the resolve of
abandoning her idol to Mr. Ireton's guar-
dianship. The course commended itself to
her doubly — it was salvation to her boy,
and reparation towards one whom she had
wronged; for she did not dream but that
her one jewel must be almost as precious
in other eyes as in her own.
" When he said, ' I may hate the boy/
I did not believe that to be possible. I
humbled myself at his feet, begging his
promise to take my child into his house
on my death, and never to let him hear
of his father. He gave me the promise I
BOND AND FREE. 77
desired. A few days after I sent you to
him, and left his neighbourhood. I ordered
a small legacy that had been left me by
my aunt, since my husband's transportation,
to be paid to Mr. Ireton, to defray the
expenses of your education. Of course he
then believed that I was dead. I meant
him to believe that I was dead."
The narrative went no further. Of all
his mother's lonely years, after she had
relinquished him, Wilfred learnt nothing. He
mused and mused; by-and-by a slight noise
made him lift his eyes from the fire and
turn — in the doorway stood his mother,
gazing at him.
Without a word he went to her and
took her in his arms. Then he read her
face over and over — finding this line of
love and longing, this of sorrow and care,
this of want and suffering, this of self-
denial : one by one he kissed them, saying : —
78 BOND AND FREE.
" God reward you and requite you,
mother — I never can, though I will try with
all my life."
When she was seated by him, she said
softly : —
"I was wrong, Wilfred — I know now
that I was wrong — in giving you up. It
was going against nature — making myself
your Providence, instead of trusting in God.
I should have known that as I pined for
my child he would pine for his mother. We
ought not to have parted."
" We ought not ; but however much
you were mistaken, your sacrifice was as
great : the self-denying love that prompted
it was gloriously strong ! I am proud of my
mother ! "
"I did not know how his grief and the
wrong that had been done him had soured
him. I did not believe that he could keep
his heart closed against you. Mistrusting
BOND AND FREE. 79
myself and my power to keep from you,
I went abroad after I had given you up.
I lived first as nurse, then as governess,
in several German families : working my
way up, I at last became English teacher
in one of the best schools in Hanover, and
afterwards obtained private pupils. It was
while I taught at the school, many weary,
dreary years after I had first gone abroad,
that I became acquainted with Eleanour
Narpenth. She took one of her capricious
fancies to me — and this led to my being,
long years afterwards, offered a situation
as her companion. This offer I accepted
because I believed there was a chance of
hearing of your guardian at her father's
house, and my hunger and thirst after
news of you were becoming uncontrol-
lable."
" Did you know me at once, mother,
when we met at Thorndon ? "
80 BOND AND FREE.
" I ean hardly say that I did or that I
did not. Ignorant of your position, even of
the name your guardian had given you,
I had paid no heed to anything that was
said about ' Mr. Mason/ till I read some
poems of yours : it seemed to me that they
must be written by a man in such a posi-
tion as that of my unknown son. Then
when you called yourself Wilfred Mason
irresistible conviction flashed upon me; the
wildest of wild struggles began within me.
How many times and how desperately I
longed to have you in my arms, if only
for a moment! — how many times I longed
to push all others from you, to claim you
as mine, and only mine ! "
" Oh, mother ! if you had but done
so!"
" Your father's sentence had expired,
Wilfred, and I did not know that he was
dead ! Do you wonder that, expecting his
BOND AND FREE. 81
return, I strove to be silent longer? — I saw
that you were sensitive — was it likely that,
if I could help it, I should let you be
haunted by such dread as haunted me ?
The more I gloried in having such a son,
the more I felt that I must not claim
him, while "
Here the trembling voice utterly broke
down ; but only for a few moments — the
poor woman was soon calm again.
" The time when I tried to stand be-
tween you and Eleanour Narpenth, and
brought your indignation upon me, Wilfred,
was the bitterest time of all my life," she
said. "Then I felt how foolishly wise I
had been — felt that all your temptations
came to you through me — felt paralyzed
of all power to help you — that time was
like a bad dream."
" God grant that my life may be one
VOL. III. G
82 BOND AND FREE.
long effort to make you happy ! " said her
son, as he kissed her.
" There is no need of any effort — my
heart is brimful of the clearest and purest
joy. The mere possession of your love, and
the knowledge of how sweet, and good,
and noble you are, is enough. Even if,
for your happiness, I should some day be
called upon to give you up — in your hap-
piness I should still be happy."
" Praise me, mother — call me noble, strong,
heroic, all that I am not ! God willing,
I will grow towards the standard of your
belief. I feel weak and ignorant as a
little child: with God's blessing, the strength
of true manliness may grow from this child-
like weakness.''
83
CHAPTER VII.
" And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, Rest ;
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast."
Wilfred and his mother, sitting at their
breakfast-table, merrily discussed ways and
means of living. Wilfred had nothing, and
his mother had but little ; yet neither of
them seemed the least dismayed at their
position.
Mrs. Smith — for whom her late master
had comfortably provided — had arrived at
Tyngelt the night before, meaning to re-
g 2
84 BOND AND FREE.
side there for the future. She brought
with her news from the outer world which
might not otherwise have reached the
Verbanes. Mr. Ireton, dying a wealthy
man, had left the bulk of his property
to Mrs. Southern, in reparation of losses
her late husband had sustained through
him. But an appeal had been made
against this will by the heir-at-law, and
there was a slight doubt whether some
legal flaw might not prevent its being
carried into execution.
Returning to their first topic, after hav-
ing commented upon Mrs. Smith's news,
Wilfred said : —
"The question is, how shall we manage
to remain at Tyngelt? I know that you
love the place."
"Yes I do love it! — but that is no
reason why you should bury yourself here,
so completely out of the world — for I
BOND AND FREE. 85
shall love any place where we may live
together."
"From what I have seen, and from
what you have told me of the place, I
should say there is plenty of work to
be done here. This thickly - populated
mining district appears to be a virgin
field, ripe for harvest and calling earnestly
for labourers. What I want to discover is
some way of bread-winning that will allow
of our remaining at Tyngelt. You look
surprised, mother ; but I have made a
twofold resolution — never to expose you to
the vicissitudes of dependence upon my
literary work for bread, or myself to the
temptation of knowing you to be dependent
upon it. What I want is some regular way
of earning what people call l a modest and
independent maintenance/ "
" We can live here very cheaply — the
price of everything is so moderate."
86 BOND AND FREE.
"Still we cannot live upon nothing."
"I am a very clever person, Wilfred.
I can turn my hand to most things. In
the great house — Tyngelt Place, where the
Tregarthers live — I might meet with em-
ployment of some kind, if — "
"Thank you, mother, that is the very
thing."
"You will let me try, then? You will
not insist upon my being a dead weight
on your hands?"
" What are you talking about, mother,
dear? I beg your pardon, but I was
thinking of this."
As he spoke he pointed to an advertise-
ment in the county-paper which lay on the
table between them.
" An advertisement for a Secretary —
that would not suit me," his mother said,
in a disappointed tone.
" But it may suit me. I am far too
BOND AND FREE. 87
selfish to be thinking of you. I mean to
have all the pleasure of work to myself.
Tregarther ! I thought I knew the name
— young Tregarther — he was drowned on
the south coast a few years since — was a
friend of poor Herbert Southern's. It is
curious that you should have settled in
their neighbourhood. "
" Not curious ; for it was not chance
— not even what people call chance,
Wilfred. I felt sure that Mr. Ireton
must be known here ; I felt sure that I
could get tidings of him from the fore-
man of the works here : and so there
still seemed a link between you and
me while I lived in this place."
" Do you know anything about Tre-
garther ? Have you heard him spoken of
since you have been here ? "
" He is in Parliament — people say he
is both liberal and ambitious, but not
88 BOND AND FREE.
clever. He married a lady of title, who
I should think is clever and ambitious and
not liberal. I hear that he is philanthropic
— desirous of establishing schools, and of
building a lecture-hall — but not energetic.
I should think that what he wants is
some one to do all the work, while
he has all the praise."
"I fancy the secretaryship may suit me,
and that I may suit the secretaryship.
How far off is Tyngelt Place?"
"Nearly three miles across the moor,
and nearly five by the carriage-road. I
do not think the situation is good enough
for you, my son. In introducing yourself,
Wilfred, shall you make use of your old
name, as well as of your real one ? "
: "I do not wish to bridge over the
space between my past and present life
more than I can help. I think I may
venture to refer Mr. Tregarther to Mr.
BOND AND FREE. 89
Narpenth for such information about me
as he may desire. By-the-by, mother, has
any news of — of the Narpenths reached
you lately ?"
Mrs. Verbane's face clouded over; see-
ing which, Wilfred's assumed an anxious,
troubled expression.
" Do not hesitate to tell me anything
you may have heard — I had rather know
anything you know about Eleanor/'
" She is going to be married — to an
artist, of the name of Edler — a German."
" Going to marry Edler !- — he is a noble-
looking fellow ! I hope she will not make him
unhappy ; but it seems so very sudden —
one cannot help fearing that she is acting
recklessly. "
" They are old friends — this Mr. Edler
taught drawing at the Hanover school
where I was English teacher. He became
attached to Miss Narpenth, and received
90 BOND AND FREE.
considerable encouragement from her.
When she returned to England — this I
heard from Miss Narpenth herself — he fol-
lowed her, and obtained pupils in London,
she being one of them. He was of good
family and good character ; and when he
became sure that his love was returned,
he asked her father's sanction to an en-
gagement between them. His own pros-
pects being fair, I think that if Captain
Narpenth had not interfered, the young
people would have had it all their own
way. But Captain Narpenth had other
views for his sister ; he worked upon his
father, and made him refuse his consent;
and for this, and the ridicule he poured
upon her, Miss Narpenth never forgave
him. Her love grew stronger for being
thwarted. I think that she herself proposed
an elopement. Her maid found this out, and
betrayed her mistress to Captain Narpenth.
BOND AND FREE. 91
I do not know exactly what followed ; but
after having gone so far that she ought, I
think, to have sacrificed all for her lover —
to have married him and shared his poverty —
for she had then no control over her own
fortune, she proved herself as weak as she
had been impulsive, and gave him up. He,
it seems, never gave her up.
"I hope Eleanour's love for so constant
a lover will be such as he deserves. To
be sure that she is happy would be a great
relief to me ; freeing me not from self-
reproach — from that I can never escape —
but from remorse for the consequences of
criminal weakness."
" I cannot see the criminality of your
conduct, Wilfred. Miss Narpenth did not
strive to hide the fact that she loved you.
She is beautiful and fascinating ; for you
she was also gentle and amiable. It was
natural that you should allow yourself to
92 BOND AND FREE.
believe that you loved her. I do not
think that one man out of a hundred
would have acted differently."
Wilfred paused before he answered ; full
confession trembled on his lips, but not
even to his mother could he yet speak
calmly of Felicia.
"You forget, mother," he said by-and-
by, "that I firmly believed that while I
was ignorant of my name and birth I
had no right to marry. In seeking Elea-
nour's society, and in other ways, I exposed
myself to temptations which I was too
feeble to overcome. I selfishly sought my
own pleasure, shutting the eyes of my con-
science to the possible consequences for
her. Surely nothing can be less manly
than for a man — for the mere pleasure,
luxury and excitement of his senses — -to
allow himself to become the object of a
woman's passionate attachment or of her
BOND AND FREE. 93
reverent affection, without trying himself to
ascertain whether he is love-worthy, capable
of loving her again for herself alone — free
to love her again, only and solely, as she
loves him." He could not help thinking of
Felicia as well as of Eleanour as he spoke.
"Do you think she loved you for your-
self alone ? — you only and solely ? She
would never have loved you, if she had
known you first as her father's clerk.
Even while she loved you, she sometimes
let her fancy amuse itself with the love
another man bore her/'
" It seems to me, dear mother, that
you, like all other women I have known,
judge men too leniently, and women too
sternly. Don't you think that, for one girl
who plays with a man's heart and en-
dangers his happiness, there are a hundred
unmanly men who study to make them-
selves beloved, or allow themselves to become
94 BOND AND FREE.
so, without any thought or care about
repaying the love they win ? "
" It may be so ; but the fault is blacker
in the woman than in the man. I cannot
reason upon what I mean ; yet I feel that
I am right when I say that one woman
who invites, or self-indulgently permits, love
which she cannot return to be poured out
at her feet, does more evil, both to other
women and to men, than do the hundred
men-triflers acting in the same way. It
sounds cruel to say it ; but I think it is
true that it does a true woman no moral
and spiritual harm to suffer; that when a
woman 'goes wrong' after a disappointment,
it is fair to believe that under no cir-
cumstances would she have led a beautiful
life. Women are born more patient than
men ; to suffer patiently is no great merit
in them, and is the discipline of their lives :
both love and suffering — suffering through
BOND AND FREE. 95
love, or suffering loss of love — are needful
for the full awakenment of a woman's nature.
I suppose you think that it sounds cruel to
say that it does women no harm to suffer ;
it is not a doctrine that it would be safe to
preach to most men ; but I think that most
true women will feel that it is a true doc-
trine. I did not mean to make a long
harangue, Wilfred ; I only wanted to defend
myself from your accusation of sternness.
Of the harm done by deceit and faithless-
ness in a woman I know only too much,
knowing how the whole nature of a good
man was hardened and embittered by my
treachery. The woman he loves should be
for a man a revelation of something higher
than he finds elsewhere in this world,
opening to him something of heaven; when,
instead, his glimpses into her nature are
more like glimpses of hell — when he finds
his love made sport of, and his faith abused
96 BOND AND FREE.
— who shall calculate the amount to which
he is injured "
"Say no more on the subject, dearest
mother. It is natural that you should
feel as you do; no doubt it is a dim con-
sciousness of the truth of what you say
that makes women often, as we think,
hard in their judgments of each other.
Still I cannot help believing that sin,
being sin, in either man or woman, is judged
as such in both, and in the one case acts
and reacts as infinitely as in the other. If
my conduct towards Eleanour has driven
her into the arms of another from reckless-
ness rather than from love — and if, when it
is too late, he feels this and resents it — who
shall say where that misery which I have set
going will stop ; but I trust in God such is
not the case — I trust that the old love may
prove itself to have been the real love."
As Wilfred, rising to leave the house,
BOND AND FREE. 97
having kissed his mother, stood gazing at
her for a few moments, he thought how
beautiful she was now, with the spiritual
beauty of peaceful joy after long-suffering.
" What time shall you be home, my son ? "
"Not till dinner-time. I am going to
try my fortune at Tyngelt Place."
Wilfred's progress across the moor was
but slow. This morning all nature seemed
clothed in intensely-significant beauty. He
thought much and tenderly of Eleanour
Narpenth; and he prayed earnestly for her
happiness — feeling almost overpowered by
gratitude for the serenity and peace that
had fallen upon his own life.
He had to rouse himself from his musing
mood when he found himself at the great
bronze gates of Tyngelt Place.
The present house, a long, low, range of
building, stood on the site of the ancient
mansion ; the avenue of magnificent old limes
vol. in. H
98 BOND AND FREE.
which led up to it in a semicircular sweep
seemed out of harmony with the white new-
ness of the rather ugly structure.
Wilfred was ushered into a library, open-
ing, as did all the long range of windows
at the west side of the house, upon a piazza,
from which an expanse of smoothest lawn
sloped down to a stream. Beyond the stream
were a few groups of forest-trees; between
them you saw the half-encircling belt of
limes. Growing on much lower ground than
that on which the house was built, the
trees allowed glimpses of flashing blue sea to
be discerned above their piny, browning crests.
Wilfred had sent in a card, with the
name of Wilfred Verbane written upon it.
After some delay, Mr. Tregarther came into
the room, holding this card and an open
letter in his hand. Only a few prelimi-
nary remarks were exchanged before he put
the letter into Wilfred's hand, asking,
BOND AND FREE. 99
" Do you know anything of the writer ? "
Glancing at once at the signature, Wilfred
answered —
" Yes."
" Pray read the note itself; I received
it only a few days before I heard of the
writer's death."
The note was simply this : —
" I have just heard that a woman,
whose real name is Hesther Verbane (born
Grey), but who may now pass by some
other — in which case let her real name re-
main known only to you — a woman whom,
till to-day, I believed to have died up-
wards of five-and-twenty years ago, is now
living near the village of Tyngelt. If you
can in any way serve her — or her son,
should he be living with her — you will
oblige,
" Your obedient servant,
" John Masters Ireton."
h 2
100 BOND AND FREE.
The date of the note was that of the
day before the writer's death; the clause
" or her son, should he be living with
her," inserted above the line, was evidently
an after-thought.
Mr. Tregarther had turned away to the
window : there was a considerable pause
before ATOfred spoke.
" Hesther Verbane is my mother," he
said ; and said nothing more.
Mr. Tregarther took no further notice
of the letter ; but, trying to draw Wilfred
out, began to speak on political subjects,
touching upon most of the social topics of
the day.
The interest Wilfred had in these matters
was a new interest, born of new views of
life and new hopes of usefulness — conse-
quently it was a warm interest, touched with
enthusiasm. As far as Mr. Tregarther
could enter into Wilfred's meaning, his
BOND AND FREE. 101
ideas seemed to him to coincide with
his own ; or to be an idealization of his
plainer, more practical notions. As Wilfred
kindled, his manner and whole bearing
exercised a sort of fascination over the
great man, who — borne along by the elo-
quence of his language, while he was flat-
tered by the deference and gentleness,
captivated by the originality and indepen-
dence of his address, and impressed by its
grace and refinement — found himself, in the
pleasure of conversation with one who not
only apprehended his ideas, but, as it were,
interpreted him to himself, forgetting the
business which had brought him this plea-
sure.
At the first pause in the flow of talk
Wilfred rose : then, before he had time to
return to the subject of the secretaryship,
Mr. Tregarther said, with something apolo-
getic in his hurried manner : —
102 BOND AND FREE.
" How soon may I avail myself of your
services should the proposal I make you —
which I had better make in writing, in-
stead of detaining you now — be satisfactory
to you ? I am overwhelmed with business,
and am anxious to set on foot some of
the schemes to which I have alluded."
"I am quite at liberty at present —
next week."
" That would do charmingly."
" But — as to references, you will re-
quire "
" This letter, and, excuse my freedom,
your own appearance, amply suffice."
" May I beg to be allowed to keep
this letter? Circumstances render it parti-
cularly valuable to me."
" Certainly, pray do so."
The great man himself ushered Wilfred
into the hall, and there cordially shook
hands with him ; rather to the disgust of
BOND AND FREE. 103
his Lady who crossed it at the time.
Returning to his library, he rubbed his
hands together softly, and soliloquized in a
self-congratulatory manner —
" A most superior man ; I must try
hard to secure him and to keep him — won-
derful that he should think of burying him-
self at Tyngelt. Something rather mysterious
about his history, perhaps."
Wilfred met his mother near the cot-
tage ; she was coming to meet him, anxious
to know the result of his application.
Questioning his face, she found something
strange shining in his eyes. With a few
words of explanation, he put the note into
her hands.
" Forgiven ! " she breathed out, and a
great joy irradiated her face. Then she
pulled her veil over it, leant on her son's
arm, and they walked home in perfect
silence.
104 BOND AND FREE.
To herself, through that day and aloud
at night, she many times repeated that
WOrd — "forgiven." This joy was no selfish
joy — it was as much that he forgave, as
that she was forgiven, that she rejoiced
and felt that the crowning crown had
fallen upon her happiness.
105
CHAPTER VIII.
" Ein guter Abend kommt heran,
Wenn ich den ganzen Tag gethan."
Five years had past since Mrs. Yerbane
had brought her son to Tyngelt. Summer
was in its full glory still. Each succeed-
ing month and year had made Mr. Tre-
garther more aware of the value of his
secretary, and had increased his direct and
indirect dependance upon him. Even Lady
Tregarther was forced to acknowledge to
herself that her husband owed a great
deal to " that talented and indefatigable
person, Mr. Yerbane." At the same time,
106 BOND AND FREE.
she considered Wilfred's influence to be
somewhat dangerous. Mr. Tregarther was
now and then carried away by the enthu-
siasm of his secretary, hurried along a
good road faster and further than he had
entertained any intention of travelling —
much further and faster than his Lady con-
sidered it desirable that he should travel.
She feared, too, that his liberalism was
inclined to become rampant — that his views
were slightly tinged with quixotism. Her tory
friends hinted at a tendency towards radical-
ism and republicanism, and these two words
were terrible to the ears of Lady Tre-
garther. It also appeared to the practical
and prudent lady that Wilfred's hand was
always in her husband's purse : lavish of
his own time and thought, he did not let
false delicacy prevent his making large and
frequent claims upon his employer's wealth.
The town of Tyngelt — which was about
BOND AND FREE. 107
equally distant from Seafern Cottage and
from Tyngelt Place, and lay further inland
than either of them — now boasted of a
building — of its kind the largest and hand-
somest in the county — erected and endowed by
Mr. Tregarther, and devoted to educational
purposes — principally to the education of
adults. Very shortly — upon Mr. Tregarther's
return from a brief sojourn abroad, which
his Lady had thought requisite for his health
— this building was to be publicly opened.
The good work that was to be carried on in
it had long since been unostentatiously com-
menced by Wilfred and his mother. Hav-
ing hired the two largest and most com-
modious rooms to be had in the town,
they had converted one into a reading
and class-room, where Wilfred had attended
twice a-day — reading the papers to such of
the miners as could not read and chose
to frequent this room — teaching reading
108 BOND AND FREE.
and writing to such as wished to be taught,
and delivering simple and elementary lec-
tures on various subjects likely to interest
his hearers. In the other room Mrs. Ver-
bane had pursued a somewhat similar course
with girls and women.
It was the success of this modest at-
tempt, testified to by the crowded state of
the rooms, that had stimulated Wilfred to
urge Mr. Tregarther on to the execution
of a scheme which he had vaguely enter-
tained for years — even before he knew Wil-
fred he had gone so far as to employ an
architect to draw plans for the Tyngelt
Mechanics' Institute. So far, but no fur-
ther. Now the Tyngelt Mechanics' Institute
— with its lecture-hall, reading, coffee, and
class rooms, well-built, well-planned, and
well-arranged — was a substantial reality,
likely to become the pride of Mr. Tregar-
ther's heart, as it was already the joy of
BOND AND FREE. 109
Wilfred's and of his mother's — to whose
exertions it was mainly owing that the
place and the people were ripe to reap
the advantages it offered them.
For a considerable portion of every year
Wilfred's daily attendance at Tyngelt Place
had not been a necessity. During such
holiday times he had devoted himself more
to his mother, to his work among the
people, and to his literary work.
About this time he had in the press
a volume of Essays — chiefly upon such
questions as the relation of class to class,
and the duties of the employer to the
employed — so thoughtful, so practical, so
high-toned, and yet so simple of apprehen-
sion, that when they appeared their recog-
nition was general and enthusiastic. The
writing of them had been a labour of love
to Wilfred — their subjects were such as
formed his keenest interests now, and he
110 BOND AND FREE.
wrote with knowledge of both sides of the
truths of which he treated. Knowledge
gained by his intercourse with Mr. Tre-
garther, and by those frequent expeditions
which he and his mother made into the
neighbourhood — the object of which was to
seek new pupils, or to endeavour to re-
lieve some case of misery and destitution
of which they had been told.
Both gifted with that unconscious tact
which exists as an instinct in some deli-
cately-organized natures, they succeeded in
coming heart to heart with those among
whom they went — in penetrating into the
very depths of their needs — into the se-
crets of their crimes and of their virtues.
Often they returned from their expeditions,
not only physically weary, but with spirits
depressed to something like despair. The
field of labour was so wide, the labourers
were so few, and the ill weeds which choked
BOND AND FREE. Ill
the grain were so deep-rooted. At such
times each cheered the other, till both were
cheered. There were bright things shining
here and there in the awful darkness —
jewels flashed forth from dunghills, and
pearls lying among swine were trampled
on and not destroyed.
Sitting by his mother among her roses,
after one of their longest and weariest
days, Wilfred said : —
"The more crime and misery I see, the
better, on the whole, do I think of human
nature. Perhaps, though, I ought hardly
to say of human nature — it is the divinity
in man that asserts itself so nobly here
and there, shining with such pure lustre
through so thick a night. Putting oneself,
in imagination, into the position of some
of the most wretched creatures we have
seen to-day — thinking of the evil influ-
ences that have surrounded them from the
112 BOND AND FREE.
dawn of reason — of the foulness of the
atmosphere they have inhaled as native
air — is not the natural feeling one of
wonder that they are no worse ; and of
awful recognition of that dignity in man
which survives such degrading humiliations,
and such polluting associations ? "
" I think so — quite. A few times I
have seen the death of women as wicked
and as miserable as any in this dis-
trict— I dare call them positively miser-
able, but the worst of them I would
not dare call positively wicked. Trying
to imagine what of them would remain
when all that was of the earth had pe-
rished, I have been wonderfully comforted.
Thinking of them as removed from a foul
atmosphere, raised above the temptations
consequent upon misery, I could believe —
judging by passing flashes that revealed a
core of truth and love in their hearts —
BOND AND FREE. 113
that in a pure and beautiful atmosphere
they would have led lives at least as
pure and beautiful as those of many wo-
men, to think of whom in the same ca-
tegory with them seems at first monstrous.
After all, therefore, the change from the
sinful woman to a creature, like-minded
with a little child, who may hope to
enter into the kingdom of heaven, is not
so much, it seems to me, a transformation,
as the falling off of outer husks to leave
a wholesome kernel free."
Exchanging thoughts and experiences
thus, enjoying the cool air from the sea,
and the fragrance from the garden, after
the heat and toil of the day — who can
doubt that Wilfred and his mother were
happy?
Wilfred had once said —
" I half suspect that a man is not
worthy the love of a true and beautiful-
vol. in. I
114 BOND AND FREE.
natured woman, till, being sure of her hap-
piness, he can be happy without her
love."
This was an article in his creed now.
At the same time with those practical
essays, a volume of poems, all written
during his five years' residence at Tyn-
gelt, was to appear. He was conscious
that these poems — the fruits of a nature
to which moral activity and practical Chris-
tianity had given new bones and sinews,
and which were the expressions of its
clearest recognitions of highest truths, its
deepest feelings of purest human love,
and its most intense and worshipful con-
victions of divine goodness — were not to be
classed with those earlier productions which
had been the mere expressions of the
morbid self-consciousnesses of a poetic na-
ture. He knew also, and by experience,
that there was not, as might at first
BOND AND FREE. 115
appear, anything inconsistent in the ener-
gies of one man being practically occu-
pied by the most homely and real needs
and interests of humanity, and by the
contemplation of its most exalted and ideal
wants and possibilities. The deepest depths of
human feeling stirred, by witnessing the crimes
and miseries of men, he felt that he must
be overpowered by emotions of sorrow and
despair, or must turn with intensified wor-
ship of recognition to the contemplation of
the grandeur of nature, and the goodness of
God.
Profoundest pity for his suffering fellows —
earnest desire to serve them, and loving sym-
pathy with them — minute appreciation of the
varying shades of natural beauty, and high
faith in its God-given power over the souls of
men — spoke from all Wilfred Yerbane wrote
at this time : but more strongly, subtlely, beau-
tifully, from his poetry than from his prose.
I 2
116
CHAPTER IX.
' Saying, 'tis good enough for these,
My fellows — it will pass and please —
How arrogant are they who sit at ease ! "
" Very glad to see you again, Mr. Ver-
bane. And how have things been pro-
gressing in my absence ? " was Mr. Tre-
garther's greeting as he entered his secre-
tary's room on the first morning after
his return.
"Well, the Institute is quite free from
workmen/'
" That is right. I have asked a few
friends down to be present at the open-
BOND AND FREE. 117
ing, and I should like the first of August
to be the day. How about your lec-
tures ? "
" I have worked at them industriously
— they will be ready in time, I hope."
" But are not yet completed ! Excuse
my saying so, but I am afraid they will be
too learnedly-elaborate. Had I fancied they
would cost you so much labour, I should
have hesitated about asking you to give
them. I thought you could easily dash off
something slight, sketchy, and suggestive ;
and I knew that, the men being accustomed
to your voice and manner, it would be a
great thing gained if you, rather than any
stranger, gave the first lectures of the
course."
" I think that on consideration you must
agree with me in thinking that one must be
complete master of a subject in order to be
able to treat it slightly, sketchily, and, at
118 BOND AND FREE.
the same time, suggestively ; also, that
such a style of treatment is only adapted
for an audience who are already in a posi-
tion to fill up the outlines of one's sketch
and to follow out its suggestions — conse-
quently only adapted for an audience who
are almost as much masters of the subject
as is the speaker. It seems to me," pur-
sued Wilfred, with the peculiarly gentle
smile and the persuasive voice with which
he often tore to shreds Mr. Tregarther's
commonplaces or laid bare his want of
logic, " that the nature of my audience
— which, at first sight, would appear to
make careful elaboration a waste of time —
in reality demands it. I am therefore
laboriously endeavouring to carry my hearers
with me step by step — to make all my
assertions self-evident — to divest my style
of any idiosyncrasy — to be sharp clear, and
concise, so that no peculiarity or ambiguity
BOND AND FREE. 119
of mine may distract and embarrass those
who listen to me. I am endeavouring,
too, by leaning more on biography than on
history, to clothe dry bones of dates and
facts in human flesh and blood, and so to
infuse a human interest into my subject."
" I am only concerned that you should
give yourself so much trouble, and expend
so much original thought."
" I believe I must work in my own way
— interest myself before I can hope to
interest others. Besides, don't you think
that, in all work, one must be true to
one's utmost capabilities in that direction ?
— that a man has no right to offer less
than his best to his fellows? If I were
to stand before those eager, hard-working
seekers after knowledge with a carelessly-
prepared and ill-digested lecture, I think
I should be guilty of sin against them,
against myself, and against God. It seems
120 BOND AND FREE.
to ine that, in order to meet their honest
ignorance as it ought to be met, I must
stretch to the utmost all my own power
and knowledge."
" You know best, doubtless ; but I should
have thought that it was easy to be easy
— that what was easy to write would be
easy to understand — that one might treat
the ignorant and uneducated as one would
treat children. My notions, I suppose, are
plain and practical, while yours are rather
poetical and metaphysical."
" I think, Mr. Tregarther," Wilfred an-
swered, laughingly, "that I am the more prac-
tical of the two for once. ' There is nothing
so difficult as simplicity/ the French lady
said, and this you would feel if you had to
teach young children or ignorant men.
To be superficial and general is easy enough,
as everybody knows ; to be simple and
comprehensive, to begin at the beginning of
BOND AND FREE. 121
any subject, is harder than any one who
has not made the effort would believe."
" Yet books for children and tracts for
the poor are generally written by persons of
inferior intellect and ability — by women and
comparatively uneducated men. How sel-
dom the first writers of the day attempt any
thing of the kind."
" That is very true : only — and this ex-
ception of mine touches on one of our old
subjects of dispute — I would not include
women in this sweeping classification of in-
capability, because they often work better from
instinct than men do from knowledge. Per-
haps its being true accounts for the disheart-
ening character of this class of literature,
which is mostly produced by persons too
superficial to distinguish between superfi-
ciality and simplicity — not enlightened enough
to comprehend the difficulty and dignity of
what they undertake. Those more fitted for
122 BOND AND FREE.
the work are apt to recognize and shrink
from its difficulties. Very few men are
wise enough, good enough, or humble
enough to write for children and for the
uneducated. I do not feel that I am
— and therefore, attempting to instruct
and interest the latter, I feel bound to
do my very utmost ; if I fail, it shall be
for want of power, not for want of will."
" Your views are rather at variance
with received notions : they have some-
thing in them, no doubt ; but do you
not push them to an extreme ? Espe-
cially as regards these lectures to be
delivered to an audience of miners, which
you are elaborating as if your audience
were to include the great and learned
of the earth."
"I am sure that if you consider the
case of these men — the sacrifices they
make, and the obstacles they have to
BOND AND FREE. 123
contend with in their pursuit of know-
ledge— your good heart will lead you
to acknowledge that what they have a
right to is — our very best, presented to
them in the very best way. If, standing
before them, I offered them any less
than this, I should feel humiliated in
their eyes and in my own."
" You drive me into a corner, and
force me to confess that there is some
selfishness at the bottom of my concern
that you should bestow so much time and
labour upon these lectures. I want you
for many things just now, and wished to
propose that you should, for the present,
give me more of your time."
"If it is really necessary, I can do
so ; but I have been thinking that I
should like to take young Hind into my
employ, as a sort of secretary's secre-
tary."
124 BOND AND FREE.
" That young scapegrace ! "
" The less said about his past life the
better, I believe. At the same time, I
have a strong feeling that he has valuable
qualities, and may yet make a worthy
man. If I employ him, I shall let him
understand that I make myself responsible
to you for his conduct."
u He is a clever fellow, I know ; but weak
of principle — always ready to be led away.
He is continually getting into trouble — ex-
posing himself to temptations, which he is not
strong enough to resist."
" As do so many of us," said the secretary,
with his twilight smile. He added —
" My plan, if you approve it, is to keep
him working at our cottage ; where he can
be constantly under my mother's surveil-
ance, or my own. I have, as you know
unlimited faith in my mother's influence
for good ; she will endeavour to give the
BOND AND FREE. 125
young man tastes that will raise him above
such temptations as those to which he has
generally fallen a victim, and to strengthen
feelings and principles that will raise him
above yet higher temptations."
" I have nothing to say against your
employing Hind; see that he does not take
you in, that is all : for the rest, use your
own judgment. By-the-by, can you spare
Lady Tregarther a few moments ? She wants
to consult you about some of her arrange-
ments for the first of August."
" Be so good as to make my excuses for
to-day. It is already late — my mother will
be waiting dinner."
Wilfred never encountered Lady Tregarther
when he could avoid her. She was one of
those women from whom such men as Wil-
fred must always instinctively shrink. She
had substantial good qualities, perhaps — so
her friends said — but her character was
1 26 BOND AND FREE.
liard and un feminine, and her manner des-
titute of all redeeming charm. When she
wished to please, she could be neither
gracious nor graceful ; and when, desiring
to mark her consciousness of the difference
between her position and that of the person
whom she addressed, she meant to be merely
frigid and formal, she was often rude and
insulting. Priding herself on her candour,
she seemed ignorant that what she regarded
as candour was often mere discourtesy and
brusquerie : utterly wanting in the instinctive
tact of a refined nature, and despising the
conventional polish of society, which might
have disguised this want, she constantly
wounded the feelings of those with whom
she came in contact, and had no sweet-
ness or generosity by which to heal the
wounds she made.
To-day, however, Wilfred was doomed to
sustain an encounter with this dreaded lady :
BOND AND FREE. 127
his retreat was cut off, and he was entrapped
into Lady Tregarther's morning room. Though
he refused to sit down, and pleaded, half-
laughingly, half-pathetically, his hunger, and
his mother's anxiety, he was obliged to
listen to a list of the guests who were
expected at the Place, and to give his
opinion upon matters connected with the
arrangements for the fete, and the amuse-
ments for the succeeding days.
When, at last, Wilfred reached Seafern
Cottage, his mother, who stood at the garden
gate, watching for him, immediately detected
an expression of pain or of annoyance, on
his face.
" The heat tires you, my son ! " she
said, as Wilfred dismounted from his horse —
which was a recent present from Mr. Tre-
garther — and threw the reins to his small
groom.
" A little, mother ; and you," he added,
128 BOND AND FREE.
brightening, " nothing tires you — you grow
younger and more beautiful every day."
" Flatterer ! "
"This evening light is the only flatterer
— slanting on your cheek, it shows how
smooth and clear it is. I am sure I look
too old to be your son ! "
That was really the case. At this time
strangers often imagined the relation be-
tween them to be that of husband and
wife. She was but nineteen years older
than her son; her hair was no greyer
than his ; her face had gained a smooth
roundness of outline, while his had a wasted
look — as if the constant toil that kept his
spirit so healthily and serenely quiet, tasked
his body over-much. His temples, from
which the hair had receded, appeared
thought-worn — worn (or so any woman who
loved him would have believed) by thoughts
so high and noble, by cares so unselfish
BOND AND FREE. 129
and pure, that any other woman loving
him must have longed to share his mother's
privilege of pressing tender lips upon those
worn temples — of lavishing tender cares on
all his life.
Mrs. Verbane led her son into the tiny-
room, which all day she had sedulously kept
dim and cool, and to the table on which
a cold dinner, temptingly-arranged, had been
waiting for more than an hour.
After dinner, when the sun had set and
the evening-breeze had risen, the mother
and son strolled slowly to and fro upon
the velvet turf at the cliff's edge.
"Tyngelt Place is to be very gay this
autumn," Wilfred said ; "I shall have a
good deal to endure there from Lady Tre-
garther. She wants me to arrange archery-
fetes, and wants my advice about all sorts
of things completely out of my line. I
shall be obliged to resort to cunning to
VOL. III. K
130 BOND AND FREE.
get clear of the house every evening — she
is quite unscrupulous."
" You promised me a holiday-tour this
year — why should not we go away at the
gay time, and so escape from all the
bustle?"
"It would be pleasant, but it is simply
impossible, dearest mother. We must stay
and endure/'
" I remember — the lectures and the open-
ing of the Institute. Of course you could
not leave. I should not wish you to leave.
I shall be so proud of you ! "
" Poor mother ! "
" Not poor in anything. Why do you
say l poor mother ' ? "
" Because your son is so different from
anything you think him ! "
By-and-by Mrs. Verbane went indoors.
Then Wilfred, all weary to-night — heart,
brain, and body — threw himself down on the
BOND AND FREE. 131
turf, " in half disgust of love, life, all things/'
and gave himself up to long-banished tor-
mentors. A few words of Lady Tregarther's
had raised the unwelcome legion.
Perhaps he passed half-an-hour in un-
profitable repining and self-tormenting ;
then, suddenly, he sprang erect, crying —
" No more of this ! " and went home. A
cup of tea taken, and half-an-hour spent
with his mother, he went off to his night-
class. He threw himself into his work
even more completely than usual, and
even more completely than usual he fettered
the attention of his rough and grimy
scholars. One or two of the more tender
and sympathetic-natured among his pupils
noticed his haggard looks — all felt the
warmth and earnestness of his manner.
By this time there were many men in
Tyngelt and in the district round it who,
but for shame, would have liked to press to
k2
132 BOND AND FREE.
their lips the pale hand that was always
busy for their good ; many women, too,
who remembered Wilfred nightly in their
prayers, as the deliverer of sons or hus-
bands from a slavery worse than death.
Wilfred kept his friends longer than
usual to-night, and dismissed them with a
heartier hand-shake. When — having put
out the lights and locked up the place,
ascended the steep street and gained the
open moor — he was at last again alone ;
he felt that the legion had been put to
flight, that he had regained the mastery
of himself, that he was free again — free to
serve God, through his fellow-men, with
the service of a free man.
133
CHAPTER X.
"Twilight hath spirits passing pure and fair:
But now there flitted by — as through the room
Gather'd a summer-night's soft restful gloom —
A radiant form with radiant-gleaming hair."
On the day before that important first of
August which he secretly dreaded, as a
day that would strip something of its silence
— as he feared, too, something also of its
sanctity — from his work, Wilfred was forced
to remain very late at Tyngelt Place.
The luxuriant summer growth of the
creepers climbing up the pillars of the
Piazza darkened the room, so that it had
134 BOND AND FREE.
already become dim, while the daylight
outside had hardly begun to fade into
twilight. Hoping to finish his work before
it should be necessary to have the lamp
kindled, Wilfred wrote on eagerly. Close
application and the heat of the day had
rather fevered him ; yet when the evening
wind rose and rustled among his papers,
telling of tempting coolness on the moor
and on the shore, he merely glanced up
and out hurriedly, then bent again over
his work. This glance, and the breath of
the wind, assured him that all was sub-
dued and fragrant beauty without; it
showed him, between the crests of the
limes, a strip of deep-hued water, and
above them a sea of greenish-gold clear
light, in which floated islands of amber
and crimson. Postponing his enjoyment of
all this beauty till his homeward ride,
Wilfred worked on. He had just finished,,
BOND AND FREE. 135
and could no longer see, when a slight
rustling at the window attracted his atten-
tion. A lady, dressed in a pearly-coloured
glistening silk which seemed to catch and
imprison the last light of evening, stepped
in to the room — then paused, and turned
from the darkness within to gaze down the
darkening lawn.
All the windows of the west wing open-
ing on the Piazza, this lady — one of Lady
Tregarther's numerous and lately-arrived
guests — had, of course, made a mistake
among them. To warn her of her mistake
and of his presence, Wilfred rustled his
papers more than was needful as he put
them away. At the noise, she turned :
there was just light enough to enable her
to discover that this was not the room
in which she had expected to find herself;
and that a gentleman was, or had been,
writing at a table in its centre.
136 BOND AND FREE.
"I fear I have disturbed Mr. Tregarther
in his library," she said. "I have made
a mistake among so many windows. Where
shall I find myself if I go through this
room ? "
"This door opens into a passage which
leads into the corridor. If you will allow
me, I will conduct you to the drawing-
room." Wilfred's voice was unsteady as he
spoke, and therefore had not its natural
tone.
He opened the door. The lady passed
out of it, and he followed her. The pas-
sage was lighter than the library had been.
Accepting his offer of escort, the lady
glanced at Wilfred: then it seemed as if
the uncertain light made her afraid to
advance, for she suddenly paused.
" Will you take my arm ? The servants
should have lighted the lamps before this.
You may trust me as a safe guide, for I
BOND AND FREE. 137
am familiar with the house." His voice was
more unsteady, and still less like his usual
voice now : perhaps, too, there was some-
thing cold and restraining in its constrained
tone.
Her hand resting lightly on his sleeve,
the lady glided along the dim passages at
Wilfred's side. There was no further inter-
change of words.
They reached the drawing-room door ;
Wilfred opened it and bowed ; taking her
hand from his arm, the lady, too, bowed,
but without lifting her eyes to his face.
At that moment a servant passed with a
taper, and its light fell on them both ; it
made no difference — he did not need that
light, and she had not looked at him again.
She passed into the room, and he returned
to his dark retreat.
Of mature age and grey-headed as he
was, this encounter agitated Wilfred as no-
138 BOND AND FREE.
thing had agitated him for long, long years.
And yet, thanks to Lady Tregarther, he
was not quite unprepared for the chance of
such a meeting. She had enumerated Mrs.
and Miss Southern in the list of her expected
guests. Throwing himself into a chair, he
bowed his head down upon his arms, pres-
sing his forehead upon the sleeve on which
Felicia's fingers had rested. What other
follies he committed shall not be revealed.
Just as he had risen, and as he was
groping about for his hat, Mr. Tregarther
entered.
" In darkness ! " he exclaimed, the light
streaming in from the now kindled passage-
lamp, showing him that Wilfred was not
yet gone.
"I am just about to leave — I am already
very late," Wilfred answered.
Then, as it occurred to him that Felicia,
if she had not recognized him to-night
BOND AND FREE. 139
must certainly do so to-morrow, he said : —
"A lady, whom I believe to have been
Miss Southern, of Beech Holmes, passed
through the room just now. It was nearly
dark, but I do not think I could have
been mistaken in her."
" You know the Southerns, then ? "
" The only son — he died some years
ago — was a school-friend of mine. I have
been a guest at Beech Holmes."
"Your name has been mentioned several
times within the last day or two. Mrs.
Southern takes an interest in you from
what she has heard of the good you are
doing in the neighbourhood ; but she did
not appear to remember the name."
" I was known to Mrs. Southern under
a different name — that of Mason."
Having said just enough to shield
Felicia from any unpleasant shock of sur-
prise to-morrow, Wilfred passed to another
140 BOND AND FREE.
subject in so decided a manner, as to
check any expression of surprise from Mr.
Tregarther. The lamp had been lighted
now, and Mr. Tregarther was burrowing
among a heap of books which covered a
side-table.
" Here it is ! " he said, as he ap-
proached Wilfred with a small, plainly-
bound volume in his hand. "I want you
to read this book — my nephew Templar
has been talking about it, he can't say
enough in its praise ; it seems that it treats
of subjects in which you and I are es-
pecially interested. We may get some
useful hints from it, I fancy. Will you
take this copy home with you ? I have
a second.''
Wilfred recognised the book as his own
— it was the volume of his essays which
had just been published.
lf It was my intention to beg your
BOND AND FREE. 141
acceptance of a copy of this very book,"
he said. " I wrote it."
" You wrote these essays ! Dear me !
Allow me to congratulate you. My nephew,
Templar, says that the book will make a
great stir — be one of the successes of the
day. I am half-offended that I hear of it,
as yours, only in this casual way. Is this
your first published work ? "
« No— oh, no."
"Are you likely to take to literature as
a profession ? Am I likely to lose you ?
You see how selfish I am."
" I shall never again make literature
my dependance as a bread-earning profes-
sion. I did so formerly, and found that
to do so was, as far as I am concerned,
a mistake. Really, I must wish you good-
night ; my mother will think I am lost."
" You will not forget that we depend on
142 BOND AND FREE.
you and your mother to join us to-morrow
evening — after the lecture ? 1
"I believe that my mother has declined
Lady Tregarther's invitation."
" We cannot hear of that — come you
must, both of you. Templar will be more
than ever desirous of an introduction to
you; and I am sure Mrs. Southern will
be disappointed if she sees nothing of
you."
Wilfred muttered something barely intel-
ligible— and, at last, escaped. Late as it
was, he forgot to make haste; his horse
picked its way at its own pace through
the soft, warm darkness of the summer
night.
"Mother, after all, we must join the
dinner-party to-morrow," Wilfred said, in
the course of the evening.
" Must we ? You said that you should
BOND AND FREE. 143
be too tired — I believe the truth was that
you thought I did not wish to go — I told
Lady Tregarther that we should not go."
" What have you fit to wear ? You
know quite well that I am proud of you.
I want you to look your best."
" I have the dress I wore the day we
went with Miss Narpenth to the Opera —
black velvet, and old lace that was my
mother's."
"That will do beautifully."
" The make is old-fashioned."
"That is no matter — you will look
lovely."
"I am afraid that to-morrow will weary
you and try you dreadfully, my son."
"I shall survive it. I did not expect
all this fuss and display. Still it is to be
a general holiday, and will, I hope, be a
happy day for hundreds. I think that you,
mother, will have no sinecure — with the
144 BOND AND FREE.
monster tea-party to manage in the after-
noon, my lecture to listen to, to dress for
Tyngelt Place and dine there — all this
after the ceremonial of the morning.
Heigho ! it will be a hard day's work ! "
145
CHAPTER XL
" A man of sensitive temperament, working for others
in singleness of heart, has often more to endure from the
way of the world's recognition of his work, than from
its neglect of it."
The great day was come — the day of the
opening of the Tyngelt Mechanics' Institute.
From the platform erected at one end
of the lecture-hall various great men of
the neighbourhood addressed the hundreds
assembled in the body of the room. The
platform and the whole Hall were tastefully
adorned — with gorse and heather from the
moor, ferns from the lanes, evergreens from
the Tyngelt Place shrubberies, cabbage-roses
VOL. III. L
146 BOND AND FREE.
and a profusion of other homely flowers
from the cottage-gardens round. The Hall
was lofty, well proportioned, spacious and
airy ; spotlessly fresh and simply decorated :
the effect was good, even grand — especially
to those who, from the elevation of the plat-
form, commanded the whole sea of eager
faces uplifted towards the speakers. Wil-
fred was one of these.
The two front rows of seats were occu-
pied by Lady Tregarther's guests. Of these
Wilfred only saw his own mother, her face
pale from excitement ; Felicia Southern, with
a ray of subdued light slanting on her
bright hair; a gentleman, who sat between
her and her mother, and was devotedly
attentive to them both; and that mother.
The spot where they sat was the one
spot towards which he tried not to look ;
yet their faces were the only faces that
he saw from among those front ranks.
BOND AND FREE. 147
The part Wilfred had to play was the
difficult one of acting as mouth-piece for
the working men — returning thanks for
them to Mr. Tregarther. This he rose to
do towards the conclusion of the pro-
ceedings.
At first he spoke with painful effort.
Felicia's face, at which he did not look,
seemed to waver before his eyes and confuse
him ; but as he went on, he succeeded in
concentrating his attention upon his subject
— in keeping his bodily eye and his mind's
eye upon those eager-faced miners — in iden-
tifying himself with them, and speaking
right out from their hearts. The manner
in which he expressed their gratitude was
noble and simple ; without a touch of syco-
phancy or servility. He dwelt upon the
conviction entertained by the more thought-
ful among them, that employers would never
have cause to regret anything done to
l2
148 BOND AND FREE.
elevate the mental condition of the em-
ployed— as the result of such efforts would
always be, to win them higher service from
higher motives. He believed, he said, that
it was only when the working-man picked
up half-knowledge and half-truth in spite
of efforts made by his employer to keep
him down and keep him back, that this
distorted truth and imperfect knowledge
puffed him. up with arrogance, led him to
take a defiant attitude, and to set himself
hand-to-hand against his employer, whom
he then regarded as his oppressor.
The posture Wilfred assumed for those
for whom he spoke was at once dignified
and appreciative — dignified in its recog-
nition of their claims, and appreciative of
the signal advantages now offered them.
While he spoke every eye was fixed
on his calm, white face, and deep-set,
shining eyes. Till he had finished, and had
BOND AND FREE. 149
disappeared among the other gentlemen
who occupied the platform, scarcely a
breath seemed to be drawn in the room ;
then there was a burst of such deafening
applause as made fine ladies turn pale and
red by turns.
This applause ceased suddenly : it was
followed by a stir and hum in the back
of the room — then by an expectant hush. A
stalwart miner mounted upon a form, and
his stentorian voice broke the silence.
He spoke right to Wilfred, who, gently
pushed to the front of the platform by his
companions, that the giant might have him
in his sight, stood there motionless and
colourless, leaning on the rail.
Just as he would have spoken to him
had they two been alone, the miner now
spoke to his schoolmaster ; every word
was expressive of heartfelt gratitude, and
of an esteem amounting to veneration.
150 BOND AND FREE.
The words were few and strong ; they were
almost too many and too strong for
Wilfred.
A second man rose up from among the
crowd of workers, and addressing "Lords,
Ladies, and Gentlemen," made a brief state-
ment of the nature and extent of the work
that had been done during the last five
years by Mr. Verbane and " the good
lady, his mother."
The proceedings had taken an unex-
pected and most embarrassing turn. The
flood-gates once opened, there was no know-
ing, as Lady Tregarther said, where this sort
of thing would stop.
Wilfred's eyes, a gesture of his hand,
a few words from him expressive of the
painful humiliation of over-appreciation, his
paleness, and the advice given by some
woman in the crowd —
" Don't ! he can't abear this public-like
BOND AND FREE. 151
talk — say the rest quiet to him another
time."
This, and Wilfred's disappearance from
the platform and from the room, brought
the proceedings to a close.
The next thing in the order of the
day's festivities was the clearance of the
Hall, preparatory to the setting out of the
tables for the monster dinner : this was
done, and the good and substantial cheer
brought in and arranged in a wonderfully
short space of time.
As Mr. Tregarther's deputy, Wilfred had
been obliged to promise to take the head
of the long centre table, while the fore-
man of the works presided at its foot ;
so there was little rest or quiet for him
this day.
The enjoyment round him was, however,
so real, the mirth so genial that, after
the first half-hour, he found it easy to
152 BOND AND FREE.
shake off the oppression of personal feel-
ing— to throw himself into the spirit of
the thing, to rejoice heartily with those who
rejoiced.
The dinner was followed up by coffee in
the news-room, and games on the piece of
moor which had been enclosed within the
precincts of the Institute, and which was to
be used as a public play-ground.
The Hall was only cleared of the men,
and of the dinner-cloths, plates, and glasses,
to be prepared for the women's tea-drinking.
Wilfred went home to fetch his mother,
who was to superintend this branch of the
festivities ; having seen her deep in the
mysteries of tea-making he returned to the
cottage, and tried to look over his lecture.
He found it impossible to fix his attention;
besides, he already almost knew it by heart ;
so, abandoning the vain attempt, he threw
himself down in a shady spot of the garden,
BOND AND FREE. 153
and indulged in the rest of day-dreaming.
But on this busy day there was but brief
space for any such indulgence. The dinner
had commenced at twelve, the tea at three ;
the lecture was to be delivered at five, in
order to meet the dining-time at Tyngelt
Place, which was to-day an hour later
than usual.
After the excitement of the morning, the
mere delivering of a carefully-prepared lec-
ture seemed a tame and ordinary affair; yet
Wilfred was not quite calm about it. He
stood among a knot of his big pupils, and
watched the carriages drive up from Tyngelt
Place and the occupants descend, till, hav-
ing seen Felicia walk up the room with the
same gentleman who had been seated by her
side in the morning, and whom he knew to
be Mr. Tregarther's nephew, Mr. Templar,
he saw no more. Felicia had passed close
to him and had not seen him, appearing
154 BOND AND FREE.
to be deeply interested in what her com-
panion was saying to her.
A few moments after, he mounted the
platform with his written lecture in his
hand ; he was introduced to his audience —
a very unnecessary proceeding — by a Lord
somebody, who made a little speech, some-
thing in which excited laughter, something
else applause. All this Wilfred heard, as if
he were hearing things in a dream : the
sound of his own voice was the first thing
that roused him to the reality of all around
him.
His lecture occupied little more than an
hour.
" Admirable !•" " masterly ! " and other
flattering epithets were lavishly used by the
aristocracy of the front ranks. Wilfred
himself was almost satisfied ; for, attentively
watching his own peculiar audience, the
miners, he had seen many faces brighten
BOND AND FREE. 155
to intelligent interest — very few show signs
of weariness. Mr. Tregarther, feeling a sort
of ownership in his secretary, triumphed
in his triumph ; his face expressed the most
beaming satisfaction as he pressed Wilfred's
hand at the close of the lecture. One of
the Tyngelt carriages was to take Wilfred
and his mother to the cottage, and to wait
for them while they made their toilettes
for the dinner at Tyngelt Place — so they
escaped quickly from the crowded Hall.
"It has been almost too much, my son!"
Mrs. Yerbane said. " I wish all were over
and we could have a long drive through
this delicious quiet and coolness! Still, I
want to see more of your friends — of Mrs.
and Miss Southern."
"Why that sigh, mother ?"
" I was only thinking that the time may
come — I often pray that it may come — when
156 BOND AND FREE.
your old mother will not be the first in
your heart. I did not mean to sigh."
" There is no first and last in pure love,
mother. You will, I think, have me all,
and always. At all events, I love you for
ever. We will never part — never ! "
As Wilfred spoke, his thoughts flew back
over many years, and, landing him on the
terrace at Beech Holmes, showed him the
child Felicia clinging to her mother, and
declaring, with soft steadfastness, that she
would never leave her- — never!
157
CHAPTER XII.
" We meet — after a lapse of changeful years ;
We ask, with heart-beats, mingling hopes and fears,
If time has dimmed the memory of those tears —
Some bitter-sweet, some wrung from purest pain —
We wept for Love, sweet Love, then newly slain,
Do we ask, too, can dead Love live again ? "
Even had not her idol been dashed from its
pedestal, and her hero lowered lower than
the common level, it is possible that the
glamour of intellectual gifts and graces,
and the charm of chivalric gentleness, which
had combined to captivate the child, and
the child-hearted girl, would not have suf-
ficed to hold captive the thoughtful, true-
158 BOND AND FREE.
natured woman. What subtle avenues to
the woman's heart were now, however,
opened for that man, of whose good deeds,
good influence, unflinching energy, and noble
self-devotion, facts, and public opinion, agreed
to speak eloquently ! Unless some other love
had replaced the early reverent worship in
Felicia's heart, was not the hero of the
girl's fancy likely to become the object of
the woman's love?
A faithful and tender woman's heart can
never quite close itself against the power
and charm of early associations : it never
forgets. It is only the hardened woman
of the world who can meet the lover of
her girlhood, or the object of her girlish
love, and not be conscious of a quicker
pulse, a stronger heart-beat, or a varying
heat and colour on her cheek: even such
are not always proof against the weapons of
memory.
BOND AND FREE. 159
Mr. and Mrs. Verbane entered the drawing-
room at Tyngelt Place after all the other
guests had assembled there; and when the
room, shaded by the creeper-screened Piazza,
was already getting dusky.
The first glance showed Wilfred that Mrs.
Southern sat near a distant window — that
Felicia stood behind her chair in the shadow
of the curtains.
After having been subject to many greet-
ings, introductions, and congratulations,
Wilfred found himself at last, his mother
still leaning on his arm, approaching that
window. Mrs. Southern rose, outstretch-
ing both her hands, her bright eyes shining
affectionately into his.
"My dear boy, my dear boy's friend,
I am proud of you — you have made an
old woman's heart swell with joy ! " she
said, soitly.
Mrs. Southern was lame now ; having
160 BOND AND FREE.
risen to greet Wilfred, she sat down again,
making room for his mother beside her.
Felicia advanced a little, holding her hand
out to Wilfred. In the obscure corner in
which she stood, she had looked like a
moon-lighted mist ; but the hand was the
soft, warm hand of a mortal maiden, and
its singularly firm and fast, though gentle,
clasp was the clasp of Felicia Southern.
Before Wilfred and Felicia had exchanged
a single sentence, Mr. Tregarther brought
his nephew up to the group to introduce
him to Wilfred and to Mrs. Verbane.
Just at this moment dinner was announced
as served. Mr. Templar offered one arm
to Mrs. Verbane, the other to Felicia, while
Wilfred's arm was taken by Mrs. Southern.
At table Wilfred found himself seated be-
tween the mother and daughter.
Mr. Templar vainly tried to monopolize
Felicia's attention, the responsibility of
BOND AND FREE. 161
amusing Mrs. Yerbane having been taken
off his hands by her neighbour on the
other side. Felicia was interested in the
conversation carried on between her mother
and Wilfred, and was natural enough to
show that she was interested — so much
interested, that only the great sweetness
of her disposition enabled her to give
heed enough to Mr. Templar's almost un-
interrupted flow of clever talk, to prevent
his being wounded by her want of appre-
ciation.
And Wilfred? Felicia was near him
— her full, soft dress touched him ; more
than once he purposely and reverently
laid his hand on it. More than once he
found an opportunity of addressing her ;
when she turned and answered him — the
low-toned sweetness of her voice — the happy
serenity of her eyes, so strangely touched
and thrilled him, that he felt it almost
VOL. III. M
162 BOND AND FREE.
needful to shrink back from her, that the
joy these woke in him might not too plainly
shine from his face into hers.
Turning towards him and her mother,
Felicia seemed the same Felicia as of old,
with the old child-like grace and lowly
candour in every look and word ; for
others — even for Mr. Templar — Wilfred
noticed that she was different — for others
there was something of stateliness in her
sweet grace, and of grave reticence in her
truthful candour.
" I do not say ' all or nothing/ "
Wilfred thought, noticing this. " I will
thank God for any place in that dear
heart. If, as a woman, her love is given
elsewhere, I will be grateful even for
that pitying affection she gave me as a
child."
The long and ceremonious dinner did not
seem long to Wilfred. Sitting very near
BOND AND FREE. 163
a window, he escaped by it soon after
the ladies left the table.
It was a softly-brilliant night, the
moon near the full : many of the younger
ladies were grouped on the dewless
lawn or pacing up and down the Piazza.
Felicia was not amongst them.
Entering the nearly empty drawing-
room, Wilfred saw his mother and Mrs.
Southern seated close together in a far
corner of it, talking earnestly — while Felicia,
resting her cheek on her mother's shoulder,
kept her eyes fixed on Mrs. Verbane's
face. He retreated unseen ; passing along
the Piazza, he found the library window
open and the room unlighted ; here he
lingered, enjoying an interval of rest
and of pleasant thought, till he heard
Mr. Tregarther's voice asking —
" Where is Mr. Verbane ? Has anyone
seen Mr. Verbane ? "
M 2
1 64 BOND AND FREE.
It was not till just as they were about
to leave that Wilfred was able to ap-
proach Mrs. Southern again.
" I have been asking your mother to
let us visit you to-morrow," she said.
" We stay here only a day or two longer,
and I want to see more of you both.
You must both visit Beech Holmes soon."
" What time will you come to us? I do
not wish to run any risk of being out. It
is very kind of you to think of coming."
u We will come in the afternoon. We
are going to have tea with you, and
remain till dusk. I have settled it all
with your mother."
" Thank you very much."
" You ought to go home now. It
must have been such a tiring, trying
day ! Your mother is looking for you, I
see — so good night — good-bye till to-
morrow "
BOND AND FREE. 165
Wilfred took his leave, only half satis-
fied, for he could not see Felicia to say
good night to her.
166
CHAPTER XIII.
" Each liveth in the other ; and yet see
With careful reverence how they stand apart !
Each shrouding from the other a warm heart,
Beating with true love and pure constancy."
That morning Wilfred went early to Tyn-
gelt Place, and proceeded straightway to
the library. Allowing himself a few mo-
ments' indulgence before he began work,
he walked to the window to look out —
a light shawl and a book were on a
chair on the lawn and near them, upon
the grass, lay a little glove. After a hasty
and guilty glance round, Wilfred stepped
BOND AND FREE. 167
from the window, crossed the Piazza, stooped,
and possessed himself of that little glove —
never doubting to whom it belonged.
He retreated into the room with his
treasure, seated himself at his writing-table,
and — what he might have done with the
little glove it is impossible to say, for a
step without disturbed him. Obeying a
hasty impulse, he thrust it within his
waistcoat ; his hand was free only just in
time to return the cordial grasp of Mr.
Templar's.
" I beg your pardon for my hasty en-
trance. I did not know you came so
early. I am looking for Miss Southern's
glove. I thought she might, by chance,
have passed through this way and dropped
it."
Wilfred's cheek burnt, as, when left alone,
he busied himself among his papers ; he
felt that a boyish and foolish action had
168 BOND AND FREE.
betrayed him into an absurd position — and
he was inclined to think that young Tem-
plar half-suspected him of the theft of
which he had been guilty. It was even
possible that he might have seen its com-
mission. He resolved to punish himself by
returning the precious glove to its owner
when he should find opportunity, with any
such matter-of-fact excuse, or apology, as
should not be untrue.
Mr. Tregarther appeared by-and-by, and
pressed Wilfred to remain to luncheon ;
but he resolutely declined to do so, and,
his business transacted, rode quickly home,
ill-pleased with himself.
When the early dinner at Seafern Cot-
tage was over, Wilfred busied himself with
womanishly minute cares — striving to make
his home look its best and prettiest.
His mother had already done her part :
the muslin-curtains in the little parlour
BOND AND FREE. 169
were white as snow, and the garden was
scrupulously neat. The roses in the cot-
tage-garden thrived better than those in
the rosary at Tyngelt Place. Mrs. Verbane
had tilled several glasses with them, so
that the room was full of their fragrance.
Wilfred arranged and re-arranged books,
pictures and statuettes, till, his mother re-
proving him for his fidgetiness, he retired
to his own peculiar den, and tried to
occupy himself till his guests should arrive.
Lady Tregarther herself accompanied them,
but she did not alight. The first sound of
wheels brought Wilfred to the garden-gate,
ready to help Mrs. Southern to step out of
the carriage, and to ascend the garden-path.
- At the house-door Mrs. Verbane met
and warmly welcomed her dear son's kind
friends. Tears of pleasure rose to her eyes
as she did so.
Felicia was the quietest of the party,
170 BOND AND FREE.
and she looked very pale to-day : the
face of Wilfred's mother seemed to have
a powerful attraction for her — her eyes
sought it again and again, expressing —
those sweet and truthful eyes ! — tender
interest and admiration ; and as she looked,
she forgot to talk.
"It is pleasant to escape from one of
the long, formal dinners of Tyngelt Place ! "
Mrs. Southern remarked, when, by-and-by,
the neat damsel began to bring in the tea.
" We always dine early at Beech Holmes,
and Mr. Tregarther's dinners tire me very
much.''
" Our dinner-time is rather uncertain, "
Mrs. Verbane said. " In one way or another
Wilfred works so hard ! — now-and-then he
does not come home to dinner at all. How
do you think he looks, Mrs. Southern ?
Sometimes I am afraid that he is wearing
himself out."
BOND AND FREE. 171
"I am middle-aged and gray -haired, you
see, Mrs. Southern," Wilfred interposed,
trying to laugh off the embarrassment he
felt; " and yet, would you believe it? this
mother of mine — who by-the-by works twice
as hard as I do — pets me and cares for
me as if "
"As if you were her only son, and a
right good son ! " Mrs. Southern said,
warmly.
After tea, Mrs. Yerbane wished to take
Mrs. Southern over the house, and then they
all meant to mount as far as the green hill-
terrace.
Felicia and Wilfred, both leaning in the
open window, found themselves left alone.
Wilfred's heart beat strangely : he remem-
bered the glove and the promise he had
made to himself — but it seemed very difficult
to keep this promise.
The glove was nevertheless presently pro-
duced, with the words —
172 BOND AND FREE.
" This is yours, I think, Miss South-
ern ?"
The grave question sounded very abrupt,
and startled a deep colour into Felicia's
face.
" I must make confession of how I be-
came possessed of it." Wilfred added, " I
had picked it up on the lawn and I was
contemplating its minuteness in the library
when Mr. Templar came in search of it.
Perhaps I was afraid of being suspected of
a romantic theft, quite unbecoming my age
and my position. Obeying a hasty impulse,
I concealed the glove. I hope that you
have not been inconvenienced by its loss."
" Not at all, thank you."
Felicia spoke sweetly, but with involun-
tary stateliness. She felt unreasonably
chilled by the manner of her old friend;
so close together — standing side by side —
looking from one window — each felt the
BOND AND FREE. 173
other to be further off than when hundreds
of miles had been between them. They
were glad when the two mothers returned
ready equipped for walking. Mrs. South-
ern went first, leaning on Wilfred's arm ;
Mrs. Yerbane and Felicia followed, very
slowly, for they were intently interested, both
in each other, and in that of which they
spoke. Wilfred's work among the people
round Tyngelt — the veneration with which
he was looked upon — Wilfred's sweetness at
home, and his loving care of his mother —
these formed the chief topics of Mrs.
Verbane's talk.
When, reaching the hill-terrace, they all
sat down, Mrs. Southern put her hand in
Mrs. Verbane's.
Wilfred was near Felicia ; he watched
her ungloved fingers toying with the grass —
with a restlessness of gesture that he had
never noticed in her formerly — till he longed
174 BOND AND FREE.
to take the hand in his and hold it still —
longed with an intensity of longing that be-
came almost uncontrollable. How happily,
how quietly, might the little hand then have
entered his and rested there !
Withdrawing presently from the dangerous
near neighbourhood of that desired hand,
Wilfred passed a little way round the hill,
and threw himself down upon the turf, where,
unseen himself, he could still see Felicia.
The evening light shining full on the clear
oval of her partly-averted face showed him
that she was changed — more changed than
he had thought. She still looked " die
Schone Engel-mild," but the mildness of her
face was more grave — her smile was as lovely
as ever, but less frequent ; it died away
more quickly, and left, as it found, an ex-
pression of confirmed stedfastness upon the
delicate sweetness of her mouth. One felt
more sure than formerly that the serenity of
BOND AND FREE. 175
her face signified more than the mere fine
weather serenity of an untried spirit : that
it signified power of suffering patiently and
submitting faithfully — self-restraint so ha-
bitual, that it had ceased to need effort — self-
denial so spontaneous that it was unconscious.
He felt even more sure than formerly, that
the face betokened depth and strength as
well as sweetness of feeling — that its owner's
love might be " difficile a acquerir," and
would be " plus difficile a perdre."
As Wilfred gazed, he murmured to him-
self:—
" In angeborner stiller Glorie,
Mit sorgenlosem Leichtsinn, mit des Anstands
Schnelmassiger Berechnung unbekannt,
Gleich feme von Verwegenheit und Furcht
Mit festem Heldenschritte wandelt sie
Die schmale Mittelbahn des Schicklichen."
He thought that Felicia's face would
have served as fittest model for that of a
Madonna, the highest impersonation of calm
176 BOND AND FREE.
power and love ; or for that of some virgin
martyr triumphing by power of faith and by
the strength of meekness over the weak-
ness of the flesh, and the terrors and tempta-
tions of the devil.
He thought these things and many more
as he gazed at Felicia, till the overpower-
ing force of the return tide of his love,
swelling high and strong and threatening
to sweep away many of the newly-set
landmarks on the firm ground of tempta-
tions overcome, alarmed him.
"It is not safe," he said, aloud ; "I
am not fit or free to love her."
He averted his face, and, with his eyes
fixed seawards, looking into infinity, he
wrestled with his own soul.
" The old leaven of passionate selfish-
ness is in me yet," he said. " If not, why
can I not be happy, believing her heart to be
given to another, whom all men would count
BOND AND FREE. 177
worthy ? What can I offer her ? How dare
I think of desiring her love? How fair
she is, and how spotlessly pure has been
the book of her life always ! It is true
that she loved me once, and that her nature
is constant and faithful; but she was as
a child, and I was not what she thought
me. She can only love what she believes
to be all noble and worthy — this she
knows I am not. I cannot help myself
from loving her - — I must love her for
ever; but it must be without hope or de-
sire of winning love from her; with the
wish that she should give her life to one
younger, worthier-— all ways more fit to
be loved by her/'
After awhile Wilfred rose and rejoined the
three ladies.
"Mother, do you think it is prudent of
you to sit still so long? Is it not too cool
here for Mrs. Southern ?"
VOL. III. N
178 BOND AND FREE.
" Wondrous prudent are the young peo-
ple of this generation ; my girl has been
warning me and shawling me, and now
here comes your boy ! "
Mrs. Southern held her hand out to
Wilfred as she spoke, that he might help
her to rise ; but she took Mrs. Verbane's
arm to assist her in descending the hill-side,
and left " the young people " to follow.
It was not till Felicia had slipped on
the short dry turf, and had nearly fallen,
that Wilfred offered her his arm. Without
a word she put her hand within it.
They walked on silently for some time ;
till Wilfred, oppressed by this silence, made
some laughing comment on it, and added,
what he felt, immediately he had spoken the
words, had better not have been added—
" We used to find plenty to talk
about."
" We used to know each other well ;
BOND AND FREE. 179
Mr. Verbane makes me feel that he is quite
a stranger."
Felicia said this quietly ; but when she
had spoken her face crimsoned, to turn very
white afterwards.
A flood of thought and feeling rushed
to Wilfred's lips, demanding expression :
such things as he had schooled himself to
believe that he must not even think almost
forced themselves into speech. Commanding
himself by a great effort, not even pre-
suming to press nearer to him the hand
that rested on his arm, he said —
" I think I ought to desire that all
whom I wish should think well of me
should meet Wilfred Yerbane as a stranger,
not associating him in any way with Wil-
fred Mason."
They had reached the garden-gate. Fe-
licia, withdrawing her hand from Wilfred's
arm, bent her face over a white rose-
n2
180 BOND AND FREE.
bush, which, covered with blossoms, looked
very lovely in the twilight. Perhaps she
concealed a quick-risen tear as she did
this, and as she called her mother's attention
to the beauty of the flowers.
Promising his mother that he would be
absent a shorter time than usual, Wilfred
set off for the Institute, while the ladies went
into the house to rest.
"I should like you to see him in the
midst of his big rough pupils ! " his mother
said. " He looks so slight and weak among
them, and yet a word or look of his con-
trols and subdues them completely."
"From what I saw and heard yester-
day, I can form an idea of the nature and
of the extent of his influence ! My own poor
boy loved him, and always prophesied good
and great things for him. I think that
watching his friend's life now must be one
of Herbert's joys where he is."
BOND AND FREE. 181
To this, and much more kindred talk — all
sounding praise of Wilfred — Felicia listened
with silent shining eyes. After giving a
brief outline of her life to Mrs. Southern,
Mrs Verbane said —
"You can judge how strange it seems to
me that I should be blest with such a son,
while you ."
Here she felt her hand taken in Felicia's,
raised to Felicia's lips : she added —
"But you have the dearest and sweetest
of daughters " — and kissed the girl's forehead
fondly.
Wilfred returned about half-past nine, and
then the supper of fruit and simple country
dainties was brought in. The carriage from
Tyngelt Place came at ten. Wilfred had
his horse brought round, that he might
escort the ladies across the moor.
Mrs. Southern did not part from Mrs.
Verbane without having extracted a pro-
182 BOND AND FREE.
mise from her that, nothing unforseen inter-
vening, she and Wilfred would visit Beech
Holmes at Christmas.
When they had started Mrs. Southern
told Wilfred that she was sleepy, and that
he must ride beside Felicia and talk to her.
He obeyed the former part of the com-
mand ; but again they were both very silent.
The dewy moor and the glittering sea looked
dreamily beautiful in the moonlight: it was
almost as bright as day. They both seemed
to find occupation enough in looking at the
moor and the sea.
Leaning one hand on the carriage-door —
as he called Felicia's attention to a line of
ships whose sails were shining snow-white in
the distance — bending down very near her,
as he showed her in what direction to look-
Wilfred saw that tears hung on the lashes
of the true eyes that were raised to his
face before they followed the direction of
BOND AND FREE. 183
his finger. He fancied that, as lie ad-
dressed her as Miss Southern, the eyes
appealed from his formal manner, with pain
and tenderness mingling in them. As he
fancied this, and was struck by the un-
changed child-likeness of her look at the
moment her eyes met his, his heart beat
thick and fast — he was tempted — how sorely
those only can know who have experienced
like temptation — to breathe a few tender
words, and to press his lips on the white
brow which bent above those dear, tearful
eyes.
He moved his hand from the door — he
drew himself further from the carriage —
he forced himself to talk on trifling unin-
teresting topics — and when the often-coveted
hand met his in leave-taking, he did not
hold it so long, or press it so warmly, as
he did that of Mrs. Southern. Nothing
could have been calmer than his face and
184 BOND AND FREE.
his manner — how cold, too, both seemed
only Felicia's timid, shivering heart could
have told.
Poor Felicia! Poor Wilfred! Yet per-
haps Edgar Templar, who happened to be
strolling about before the house when the
carriage drove up the avenue, and who eagerly
advanced to assist the ladies to alight —
Edgar Templar, whom Wilfred envied just
then with a bitter, burning envy — was far
more to be pitied than either Wilfred or
Felicia.
When the hall-door had closed upon his
friends, Wilfred dashed down the avenue at
the maddest of paces, unheeding its fairy-
like moonlighted beauty. But when he
found himself near home, he checked his
horse to the slowest of slow walks.
The day had been one of self-restraint;
now he let imagination run riot with loose
rein.
BOND AND FREE. 1 85
" Felicia ! Felicia ! my heart seems to tell
me that one day yet, in spite of all, you
will be my Felicia ! If I were but worthy
— if my life had but been pure and true —
— difference of fortune, of position, should
weigh for nothing, and I would try and
win her. What grieved her to-night ?
What brought tears to her sweet eyes ? I
would give much to know — I never shall
know. Eeason says, she never can be my
Felicia ! "
186
CHAPTER XIV.
"O well for him whose will is strong!
He suffers, but he will not suffer long;
He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong."
One heavy afternoon, late in the autumn,
Wilfred came home from Tyngelt Place
unfit for anything but to lie on the sofa
and be waited on.
There had been a long struggle going
on within him. It seemed that he had
won the victory over his spirit at the ex-
pense of his body. The two months that
had passed since Felicia and her mother
had left Tyngelt, had been two months of
BOND AND FREE. 187
constant, unvaried work : not work with
the will, either, but against the will —
against a demon of listless despondency
that had taken possession of him, and
which, he thought, was only to be starved
out by finding nothing within him on which
to prey. So he had allowed himself no
idle moments, but had worked on till he
was well nigh worn out : at Mr. Tregarther's
work — at his own private literary work —
at his good work at the Institute, and
among the people. In doing thus he had
over-shot his mark, overstrained his physi-
cal power, and now he fell prostrate ; not,
however, as one vanquished, but as the
vanquisher, whose strength fails him in the
moment of victory. The wasted face on
which his mother's sorrowful eyes were
fixed was a quiet and not unhappy face.
"I am just tired, mother — too tired to
eat or sleep; that is all. I am quite
188 BOND AND FREE.
content to be here to-night, and to do nothing
but watch the fire and your nimble fingers
— quite content and quite happy. I have
good news for you, too, mother. Mr. Tre-
garther is going to remain abroad some
time longer yet, and he wishes me to take
a complete holiday. Here is his letter : he
generously encloses a cheque, which he re-
quests me to spend in travelling. What do
you say? Shall we leave Tyngelt to itself
for a few weeks ? "
"I meant to insist on your doing so —
otherwise you will get no rest. Your holi-
days try you more than your working-days.
Young Hind is quite capable of doing a
great part of your work, and I am con-
vinced that you absolutely require rest and
change. It is your duty just now to
consider your own health before anything
— for my sake, and the sake of the work
you may yet do."
BOND AND FREE. 189
"I believe I shall be the better for rest
and change; though indeed, mother, there's
not much the matter. When shall we
start ? Where shall we go ? "
There followed a consultation, Wilfred's
part of which was conducted somewhat
languidly.
* * # # *
A heavy thunder-storm, and a deluge of
drenching rain, detained Wilfred and his
mother at a small road-side inn, in the
heart of the most mountainous district of
North Wales.
A gentleman and lady staying there had
monopolized the best accommodation the
house afforded, and the travellers could be
but uncomfortably lodged.
"I am sorry I can do no better for
you, mother/' Wilfred said, as they sat
down to a scanty dinner in the small
public room, which was redolent of stale
190 BOND AND FREE.
tobacco, and damp coats and umbrellas ;
and the window of which at present seemed
to command a view of nothing but a
muddy road. " The worst of it is that I
hear that, having missed the coach this
afternoon, we shall be obliged to stay here
till Monday."
"I do think it is going to clear," Mrs.
Yerbane said, with a hopeful glance out-
wards ; " if it is fine we shall not much
care what our indoor accommodation is.
I prophesy that, before sunset, the weather
will be lovely."
Mrs. Verbane was right. As the clouds
rolled away from the sky, and the mist
from the hills, they found that the window
of the despised little room commanded a
grand prospect. The sun came out, too,
shedding a parting smile on the drenched
landscape, and promising a fine day to-
morrow. The gravel outside the inn door
BOND AND FREE. 191
presently crunched beneath the feet of a
pony, and Mrs. Verbane rose, saying, as
she went to the window : —
" We shall see our enemies now — the
people who have monopolized the best of
everything ; they are going out, I think."
Wilfred followed his mother. They saw a
a dapper little groom holding a beautiful
pony ; then a smart lady's-maid came out on
tip-toe, carrying a plaid which she arranged
upon the saddle. A gentleman — a fine, tall
fellow, in a tourist's travelling suit, whose
face they could not see — next appeared upon
the scene, carefully examined the pony's
equipments, and re-arranged the plaid.
At last, after a considerable delay — during
which the gentleman glanced into the house,
down the valley and at his sketching appara-
tus alternately — a lady appeared. The gentle-
man lifted her into the saddle, and the maid
arranged the folds of her habit, while the
192 BOND AND FREE.
groom still stood at the pony's head. The
drooping feathers and lace of the lady's hat
concealed her features, though her face was
turned towards the inn, till, just as she
was starting, she raised her head, and
passed the window in review.
A sudden clutch of the rein, a sharp
touch of the whip, and the pony, knocking
down the groom, darted off at mad speed.
The maid screamed, the groom picked him-
self up, and his master — whose face Wil-
fred and his mother saw now, and saw
how white it had turned - — dashed after
the runaway.
After some moments the lady rode
quietly by the window, the gentleman
walking at her side. He picked up the
sketch-book he had thrown down when
he ran after the pony, and they pro-
ceeded in the opposite direction to that
they had at first taken.
BOND AND FREE. 193
"She recognized you, Wilfred, but she
did not see me. Her husband did not see
either of us — he was too much engrossed
by his cares for her," Mrs. Verbane said,
turning to look at Wilfred.
While his mother went for her bonnet
and cloak Wilfred remained at the window
lost in thought.
"Was Eleanour happy? — did she love
her husband ? " he wondered. He imagined
that hers was a nature which would love
with passion or not at all — with passion
that being itself a form of selfishness
swallowed up all other selfishnesses while it
lasted : it was thus that she had loved him.
He could not imagine Eleanour as a wife
who would love her husband with quiet
and undemonstrative, because perfect, house-
hold love — with such love as is a daily de-
votion of unconscious self-sacrifice. Neither
could he imagine the possibility of two
VOL. III. 0
194 BOND AND FREE.
passionate loves in one woman's life. How
then could Eleanour be happy ?
Next morning Wilfred went out early
for a solitary walk; when he returned to
the house Mr. Edler was lounging in the
porch, sunning himself. He recognized
Wilfred immediately, but with sufficiently
evident surprise to show that his wife had
not informed him of her having done so
the night before. Appearing glad to meet
anybody with whom to exchange a few
words he detained Wilfred. In the course
of conversation he said (he had addressed
Wilfred as Mason) : —
" Do you know the name of a dark-
haired middle-aged lady who is staying
in the house ? I met her on the stairs
just now and seemed to know her face."
" Her name is Verbane," Wilfred an-
swered, and did not enter into any expla-
nation.
BOND AND FREE. 195
"I do not know the name, and yet I
seemed to know the face. I am afraid
any lady must be uncomfortably lodged
here. I should like my wife to see about
it — her maid occupies a room which we have
no right to monopolize/7
Considering this as only a passing thought
in a good-natured man's mind Wilfred took
no notice of it, but gave a new turn to
the conversation. As he and his mother
lingered over their late breakfast, however,
a rustling in the passage was followed by a
knock at their door, and Mrs. Edler's maid
entered to ask if Mrs. Verbane would see
her mistress. The answer being of course
affirmative Mr. and Mrs. Edler entered.
Eleanour came in with superciliously-
drooped lids, leaning on her husband's
arm, looking stately, languid, and handsome ;
but much aged since Mrs. Verbane had last
seen her. When she raised her sullenly-
o 2
196 BOND AND FREE.
haughty eyes and found herself face to face
with ' Wilfred Mason ' and ' Mrs. Lister '
every trace of colour left her face.
She turned sharply to her maid, saying —
" This is one of your stupid mistakes,
Ann — this person is not Mrs. Verbane."
Mr. Edler, astonished to find Wilfred
and the lady whose face he had thought
he ought to know and whom he now re-
membered to have known as Mrs. Lister,
domesticated together, looked to Wilfred
for an explanation.
" This lady is Mrs. Yerbane, and my
mother," Wilfred said, fixing his eyes
sternly on Eleanour as he placed a
chair for her. Her eyes immediately fell
before this look from his. She took the
chair he offered her, and appeared to wrap
herself in a mantle of unapproachable
silence, while her husband, Mrs. Verbane,
and Wilfred tried to decrease the awk-
BOND AND FREE. 197
wardness of the meeting by conversing on
safe general topics, even by slight and
general explanations. When Wilfred ad-
dressed her Eleanour just answered him
and then relapsed into her former
statuesque coldness and silence : to all her
husband's efforts to rouse her and draw
her into the conversation she was wholly
irresponsive.
After sitting in this manner for about
a quarter of an hour she rose abruptly,
gathered her shawl round her, called for
her husband — and, after a haughty and
formal leave-taking, standing silent and
still, while her husband made kind
offers and said good-natured things for her
and for himself, she swept from the room.
Wilfred threw up the window as far as it
would go directly the door closed behind
her. A rich, strong perfume which Elea-
nour Narpenth had always used pervaded
198 BOND AND FREE.
the small room, making its atmosphere op-
pressive— but was it only this of which he
wished to rid it ?
Neither he nor his mother made other
comment on their visitors than this, and the
significant words, " Poor Edler."
Meanwhile Eleanour, having regained
her pretty sitting-room upstairs, threw
herself on the sofa, exclaiming —
" See what you have subjected me to by
your absurd quixotism, Hermann ! The
shock I have received has knocked me up
for the day!"
" Did you know of Mason's, or rather
of Verbane's, presence in the house ? "
" I saw him at the window last night."
" Just before your pony started off ? "
" Just before my pony started off."
" Did you know of his change of name?"
" I knew he had changed his name —
nothing more. Don't bore me by ques-
BOND AND FREE. 199
tions. Eead to me — something amusing. I
feel that I shall be ill after this shock. "
" What shock ? As you knew that
Mason was in the house I do not see
what overwhelming shock you can have re-
ceived. But had you treated me with can-
dour I could have spared you this meeting."
Mr. Edler's manner was cold, nay even
somewhat contemptuous. Eleanour was evi-
dently astonished by it. Half raising her-
self, resting on her arm, she looked at*him
with kindling eyes and rising colour.
" You ask what shock it is to which
you have subjected me. It will be well
for you not to repeat that question, Mr.
Edler; it may receive too plain an answer."
"I do repeat my question, Eleanour —
to what great shock have I subjected
you?"
" I will tell you then," she answered,
defiantly and passionately. " The shock of
200 BOND AND FREE.
being brought face to face with a man
whom I loved, as I never loved and
never shall love you — loved with a de-
vouring, uncontrollable passion that be-
trayed itself to him and demanded his
love — loved with such a love as made me
cling to him, and shut my eyes to the
truth that he did not love me. The
shock of meeting this man face to face
to feel that his old power is not gone —
that I could have thrown myself at his
feet to-day as I have done in times gone
by — the shock of feeling this and of read-
ing in his eyes love for a woman I hate,
and cold, contemptuous reproof for me.
Have you heard enough, Mr. Edler or
shall I tell you more ? "
Her husband had drawn near her : he
stood looking down on her — their eyes
met — perhaps she read in his something
of the work she had done — perhaps she
BOND AND FREE. 201
was frightened by the expression of his
face. She averted hers, buried it in the
sofa -cushions, and began to sob convul-
sively. He waited by her and watched
her with unflinching and unsoftening eyes.
She was mistaken if she thought her tears
and sobs could bring him to her feet.
" You have taught me a lesson for
which I thank you," he said, when she
was quiet enough to hear him. u For five
long years, years which crowned the con-
stancy of a life, I have tried by untiring
devotion to win your love. There shall be
no more of this folly. You shall have no
more chance of trampling on my love ; and
of stabbing my honour with your tongue.
I will change our way of life."
Dangerous sparks flashed from his eyes ;
he pushed the slightly-grizzled, strong, black
hair back from his resolute brow, and
stood above her a justly-angry, much-
202 BOND AND FREE.
wronged man — a man who had endured
long, and meant to endure no longer.
" You will play Petruchio, perhaps ? "
she said, attempting a tone of raillery.
" Be warned ! I am a shrew he would
never have tamed — he would have died
by my hand."
" Play Petruchio ? " he asked, bitterly.
" For what ? Indeed, I shall not be at
that trouble. For Petruchio there was a
prize worth winning — a shrew worth tam-
ing. Katherine was what my wife has
shown me that she is not."
" Make use of my confession ! Perhaps
I said more than I meant. Your in-
difference roused me to anger. Load me
with insult — threaten me — that is manly ! "
" The manliness a woman of your sort can
alone appreciate ; manly forbearance, consi-
deration, gentleness, all go to feed your
faults. You have taught me that women and
BOND AND FREE. 203
cowards only love those who oppress them
and trample on them — as far as is in my na-
ture I will profit by your lesson. You are
right to treat a man who has fawned on
you and followed you like a spaniel as you
might have treated that spaniel — only worse,
far worse. You are right to lavish on a scorn-
ful lover the regrets that a more simple
woman might regard as treason against a
devoted husband ! I choose now to exchange
parts with you — I will exact obedience, the
sacrifice of your charming caprices. You must
conform your life to mine. I have a serious
purpose in life — you have none. I will
bear this in mind. You think me brutal
to-day — you will often think me so. I
have to thank you for a rough awaken-
ing from an enervating dream. You are
morally sick with a sickness unto foul
disease and death ; I mean to undertake
your cure. You will not thank me now —
204 BOND AND FREE.
any more than a spoiled child thanks the
father who chastises it. I know that you
will not. You will be violent and mutinous.
I, however, am not a man to be conquered
by a woman who does not love me. I will
be rough and resolute. I leave you now.
I am going to church — I am superstitious
enough to desire to ask a blessing there
upon my work as a physician."
He left her alone through all the weary
hours of a fine Sunday. Coming home at
night he found her asleep on the couch
where he had left her. As he stood by her,
watching her uneasy slumber, there was a
heartstricken mournfulness in his face, and
his eyes expressed a sorrowing pity— of him-
self, of her, or of them both.
" Strengthen me for the work — let me
win her and save her ! " he cried.
He left her where he found her and him-
self retired to rest. Worn out by fatigue
BOND AND FREE. 205
and fasting he was surprised by the sleep
he had meant to feign.
Little by little, slowly and toilfully, love,
wise now and no longer blind, conquered
and won love again. Not pure, unselfish,
and all-comprehending love — but such love
as being a second selfishness kept more
direct selfishness in abeyance — such love as
owed some of its strength to fear and
yielded as its chief fruit obedience.
Hermann Ecller, therefore, found the
chief good of life to consist in work : he
devoted himself to art and won fame.
For the tinge of mournfulness in all his re-
presentations of life — for his deep-lying
scepticism of human happiness — for his con-
stant dwelling on one theme in its infi-
nite varieties — the reaping of misery and
disappointment from fulfilled wishes and
granted prayers — for these things his
wife must answer as best she may.
206
CHAPTER XV.
11 A shock of pleasure may be or may be of pain
And then the hopes that had ebbed out — hopes idly vain,
Return in full spring- tide to flood the heart again."
"You, perhaps, have already heard of this,
Verbane ? " Mr. Tregarther said, entering
paper in hand the library at Tyngelt Place
where his secretary was writing. " This may
possibly account for Miss Southern's having
discouraged my nephew, Templar."
Mr. Tregarther did not raise his eyes
from the paper ; Wilfred's fingers still
moved over a half-covered sheet, as he said,
feeling that he was expected to say some-
thing—
BOND AND FREE. 207
" Miss Southern is married then ? "
" Married ! who told you so ? "
" I imagined that that paper told you so."
" Dear me, no ! "
Wilfred laid down his pen and leant
back in his chair, looking at Mr. Tregarther
for an explanation.
" To what do you allude, then ? "
" Beech Holmes is the name of the South-
ern's place, is it not ? "
" Certainly."
" Beech Holmes is advertised for sale —
here, read the advertisement. No name of
the owners is mentioned, but it is not
likely that there are two estates of that
name in the same county. I can't in the
least understand it. The sum Ireton left
Mrs. Southern was a large one — yet, you
see — ' to be sold for benefit of the creditors,
etc., '"
The words, all contained in the advertise-
208 BOND AND FREE.
ment, "Manor-house," "timber," "pasture,"
"sheep-walks," jumbled themselves together
unintelligibly in Wilfred's head. He pushed
the paper from him.
" You know nothing more than you have
learnt from this ? " he asked.
" Nothing — and you ? "
"Nothing."
"I am deeply concerned for them, so
will Lady Tregarther be. I must go and
talk it over with her and see if nothing
can be done in the way of inviting them
here."
"Mr. Tregarther lingered at the door
for some time longer before he was
fairly gone — but Wilfred heard very little
of what was said.
When he was alone again he remained
idle for a few moments, and his face was
grave, and intently thoughtful. After those
few moments he continued his interrupted
BOND AND FREE. 209
business, quickly completed it and then rode
home very fast through driving, blinding
November rain and sleet.
"You have heard it already," he said,
after a glance into his mother's face.
"This letter from Mrs. Southern came
just after you left the house." As she
spoke, she helped to pull off his wet coat ;
then having brought him his slippers and
pushed his chair near the fire she stood
in the window, looking out, watching the
rain ; listening to its dreary splashing,
and pitying the poor battered-about late
flowers, while Wilfred read.
Mrs. Southern's letter was addressed to
his mother.
" Dear Friend," it began :—
" Our Christmas meeting, if indeed
we meet at all, will not be at Beech
Holmes, as we had planned. No doubt you
have already heard of our changed for-
VOL. III. p
210 BOND AND FREE.
tune. You must forgive us that you were
left to hear of it indirectly. Felicia and I
each believed that the other had written
to you. My girl does everything — I thought
that she had done this.
" I never valued the fortune that came to
us so unexpectedly. It caused us much
trouble in its coming, and I always felt that
it came too late — too late to save my
son, whose health was undermined by long
unremitting application ; but now its sudden
departure leaves us poorer than it found us
— burdened by debts to pay off which
we sell Beech Holmes. I have to reproach
myself, too, for our losses ; I allowed a per-
son towards whom I had alwavs felt a
■I
certain amount of distrust to manage all
the business, and did not seek advice from
any one. Well, he was not much better
than a swindler, and was connected with
swindlers, and this is the consequence.
BOND AND FREE. 211
"We linger at Beech Holmes as long as
it is any way possible. God knows that it
will be a trial to us to leave it ; but as
yet we keep quite cheerful — perhaps we
have not yet taken our trial home. Fe-
licia is always an angel of consolation ;
yet, of course, it is for her I grieve —
wealth in her hands would have been a
blessing to hundreds. She says, however,
that she should have been made unhappy
by its responsibilities — that, but for having
to leave Beech Holmes, she should be glad
that our wealth was gone — that she has
never been very happy since it came.
" Of our plans for the future I can say
nothing yet. I have no one with whom
to consult ; both Arthur and John Lan-
don are still abroad with their wives and
families, and Mary's husband has accepted
an East Indian appointment.
" Felicia is everything to me. Even I, who
p2
212 BOND AND FREE.
know her well, am astonished sometimes
by the depth of her calm, practical sense,
and by her unruffled cheerfulness.
" It shall not be long before I write
again. Greet your son fondly for me, and
" Believe me, my dear friend,
" Ever faithfully yours,
" Edith Southern."
" I shall go to Beech Holmes, mother ! "
Wilfred said; the tone — clear, firm, almost
joyous — startled Mrs. Verbane ; "I must
start to-night; it is not fit for them to be
so alone at such a time — I may be of
some use to them."
" Directly I had read Mrs. Southern's
letter I answered it, Wilfred, in the way
I thought you would wish. I asked them
to come and be our guests for a while.
Need you go, as I have done this?"
" I think I need, mother. They will not
come."
BOND AND FREE. 213
" You must judge, my son — I will get your
portmanteau ready at once/'
As the mother and son parted a few
hours later Mrs. Verbane said : —
" In all things do what is best for you
and for them — do not study me. I shall
be content and happy any way ! "
" God bless you, mother!" was his fer-
vent answer.
214
CHAPTER XVI.
"For Love himself took part against himself."
About nine o'clock on a dismal November
night Wilfred reached Beech Holmes. The
moon's light struggling through the fog
showed him the gaunt, bare arms of the
noble beeches swinging and swaying about;
a sound as of sobbing and wailing eddied
in the air — perhaps it was the sound of their
leave-taking lament as they stretched their
aged hands to each other across the road —
for on the trunks of some of them were fatal
figures, telling that their days were num-
bered.
BOND AND FREE. 215
As Wilfred went up the avenue, as-
cended the terrace-steps, crossed the flags
and stood in the porch, the past and pre-
sent mingled strangely : it seemed to him
that Herbert's arm was passed through his
— that Herbert's breath was on his cheek
— and his kind words of welcome sounding
in his ear.
" As far as is in my power I will take
your place/' he said aloud ; " I will strive
to put self aside for a time and to be a son
to your mother, a brother to your sister."
He did not give his name to the ser-
vant who admitted him, but merely asked
to see Mrs. Southern. Following the girl
across the cold dismantled hall, past the
open doors of desolate, dark chambers, she
led him to the door of the small oak-
panelled room which had been Mrs. South-
ern's peculiar den, and left him to enter
unannounced.
216 BOND AND FREE.
The room was dimly lighted.
Felicia sat at a table littered with papers,
her face was turned from the door and
towards the fire by which Mrs. Southern
was lying half-asleep. The servant shut
the door after Wilfred rather noisily. Fe-
licia did not look up from the figures on
which she seemed so intent, but the sound
roused Mrs. Southern. She rose, peered
at Wilfred with something like terror in
her face, and then advanced a few steps
towards him.
Her voice had a shrill intonation which
made Felicia look up with a startled air
as she asked : —
"Is it Wilfred? Wilfred Mason?'7
" It is Wilfred — Wilfred Verbane," he
said, as he took her hand in his and led
her back to her couch. She sat down on
it speechless and trembling.
"I am very sorry I startled you — I did
BOND AND FREE. 217
not mean to do that," Wilfred observed,
penitently.
" This is kind, and a great pleasure,"
Felicia said. She had had time to recover
from her first surprise and came towards
Wilfred with outstretched hand. The face
she raised towards his was very pale — the
eyes that looked into his with such soft
thankfulness were full of tears ; he t took
her hand in both his, bent over her
and kissed her cheek, saying, as he did
so : —
" I want to fill Herbert's place — let me
be as a brother, your elder brother to you
for a time."
The expression of child-like reliance with
which that poor, pale face had looked up
into his, had made the action seem natural.
His kiss had been kind and calm ; but
when he saw a faint crimson suffuse Fe-
licia's cheeks as she turned quickly from
218 BOND AND FREE.
him, he was troubled, and doubted had he
acted well.
As a lover he would not have dared to
kiss her then, he would have thought it
cruel and cowardly to presume to do so ;
but his was not a lover's kiss, he had
temporarily abrogated other hopes and
claims, and wished her to feel in him
only the calm, protecting tenderness which
a brother would have shown her — that she
might freely come to him for such aid
as a brother might have given her.
Felicia did not misunderstand his action ;
it was his kindness, contrasting with the
coldness of his manner towards her at
Tyngelt, that had overwhelmed her for a
moment ; but after that moment she re-
gained her self-possession — she showed that
she had not misunderstood his action by
treating him as if indeed he had been
her brother.
BOND AND FREE. 219
Mrs. Southern made Wilfred take an easy-
chair by the fire, upon which she piled
wood with her own hands, while Felicia
herself superintended the preparation of his
supper. He was made to feel that he was
a most welcome guest.
" I have longed to have some one be-
sides that poor child to lean on," Mrs.
Southern said, while Felicia was absent;
" for I feel as if she were a slender reed,
which I am bowing down to the ground.
I cannot thank you enough for coming, so
I shall not try to thank you at all." She
went on to speak more of her daughter.
After supper, Felicia again bending over
those weary papers, Mrs. Southern gave
Wilfred a full and detailed account of the
events of the last few months — of the
nature of the fraud of which she had been
a victim. He was not a very attentive
listener; for his watchful eyes noted that
220 BOND AND FREE.
Felicia's hand was once or twice raised
and pressed against her brow, and that
her mouth, by its firm compression, gave
sign of suffering.
" You are tiring yourself," he said, at
last, approaching and stooping over her.
" You might trust a brother to attend to
this for you — might you not ? "
"I will do no more to-night," she an-
swered, looking up into his face with a
sweet smile, that was by no means a sad
smile — his kindness made her very happy.
"I am tired — a little. My head is always
a very stupid one at figures." She left
the table and took the chair that Wilfred
placed for her by the fire.
Mrs. Southern, wishing to see that
Wilfred's room was ready and a good
fire burning there, left them together by-
and-by. Of course they then talked chiefly
of her. Felicia spoke of her mother's bright
BOND AND FREE. 221
heroic way of bearing trouble, of her rapidly
increasing infirmities, and of her fear that
her courage must give way when it came
to the last — to leaving Beech Holmes.
"At your mother's age, and by people
with your dear mother's faith, such things
are not acutely felt, I think," Wilfred
said. "We all, I suppose, comfort ourselves
more or less in times of trouble by think-
ing of the shortness of life, by dwelling
on the fact that each day we leave behind
shortens by so much our time of trial.
At your mother's age this consolation is
more vividly present; she feels herself to
be near her long home. It is for you,
Felicia, that she regrets this change the
most." There was a pause ; then he added
— " Did you think me presumptuous in
asking to be looked upon as a brother ? —
an elder brother ? "
"No! Oh no!"
222 BOND AND FREE.
" But perhaps you would hardly suffer
even an elder brother to approach the subject
on which I want to speak a few words.
Your mother, while you were from the
room, told me of Mr. Templar's visit — of
the way in which he pressed his former
suit when he heard of your change of
fortune. Will my praise of Mr. Templar
have any weight with you? I could tell
you much about him that would raise him
in any good woman's estimation. He is
an excellent young fellow, with aims
and views far higher than ordinary."
" Mr. Templar has his final answer."
Felicia spoke with something more like
petulance and haughtiness than Wilfred had
ever heard her use before. " He meant
well," she said, " and, no doubt, the world
would say that he acted generously ; but
it was with difficulty that I could refrain
from showing that I thought him imper-
tinent and ungenerous."
BOND AND FREE, 223
" Why so, Felicia ? " He looked at her,
leaning his head on his hand and shading
his face from the light of the fire.
"What right had he to dream that my
change of fortune could change my heart?
Was it not something like an insult to
act as if he thought this possible ? Must
he not have thought very meanly of women
before he could have done this?" Felicia,
with kindled eyes, burning cheeks, and a
thrill of passion trembling through her
voice, was very different from any Felicia
Wilfred had known before ; nevertheless,
this Felicia would have pleased him well,
but for one thought that rose in his mind.
"You judge young Templar sternly —
with less than your wonted charity," he
said, reprovingly.
"He could not have acted as he did
had his love been unselfish." She persisted
— " He must have thought too much of
224 BOND AND FREE.
how grandly generous his offer proved him
to be — not enough of how mean and base
I should have proved myself had I ac-
cepted it."
" This is not like you — you are not
charitable, Felicia/' Wilfred spoke harshly,
stung with pain by the thought — " Will
she judge me thus if, by-and-by, I sup-
plicate for that for which I did not ask
while I believed her to be wealthy?"
" Not charitable ? " she asked, while her
lip quivered. "I hope I am not becoming
hard and bitter ; sometimes I fear I am.
I think I shall grow better now that we
are poor again — as we were when we lived
abroad. I have not been happy lately."
Meeting Wilfred's eyes, all soft once more,
and full of pity, she bowed her head down
on her hands and let her tears have way —
only for a moment.
" Is not this ungrateful?" she asked.
BOND AND FREE. 225
" You see I am a spoiled child, and cry
if I am scolded. Do not scold me to-
night— I am very tired, you cannot think
how tired. Mamma thinks me so strong
and so wise, and I am very glad, for
that is a comfort to her; but really I
am very, very weak and foolish. I feel some-
times as if my heart would break : it
seems sometimes as if I could find no-
thing safe, nothing sure, to rest upon.
This must be because I am not good —
must it not? I know I ought not to
feel like this."
It might have required more strength for
self-restraint than Wilfred even now possessed
to make him refrain from taking this weary,
weeping child into his arms and telling her
of his love and of how she must learn to
rest upon that; but just at this moment
Mrs. Southern returned to the room.
VOL. III. Q
226 BOND AND FREE.
For the next few days Wilfred ruled
himself with a hand of iron ; he had his re-
ward— the reward he desired — he was allowed
to arrange and settle everything for Mrs.
Southern and Felicia, thus sparing them much
trouble and much pain. He could not, how-
ever, prevail upon them to accept his
mother's invitation and become her guests;
he found that they had already taken a
small house, standing in the Minster Yard
of the neighbouring town of Silver-Thorpe,
to which they meant to remove on the
day before the sale. They had no secrets
from him ; he knew that at present Mrs.
Southern's income was enough to pay the
rent of this house, and to leave them
about twenty pounds a-year besides ; but
there was some hope that in a few years
this small income would be doubled.
As a means of increasing this scanty
pittance, Felicia proposed to give lessons ;
BOND AND FREE. 227
she had already made her wish to obtain
pupils known.
Wilfred endured much during these days,
while — maintaining resolute silence as to
his hope and his love — he heard the kind
of life Felicia planned for herself calmly
discussed. To think of such a life for
Felicia — and to dread that, not loving
him with such love as could mature to
wifely love, she would refuse to share
with him a life which if she loved him
they could each make so bright for the
other — to bear about this unresolved
doubt and dread was indeed stern torture.
The last day of lingering at Beech
Holmes came, bringing with it a pause from
incessant thought and toil : everything that
had to be done was done, and this day
was to be a day of rest.
Mrs. Southern was, by her own wish,
left alone in her room for the greater part
Q2
228 BOND AND FREE.
of it. Towards afternoon, Felicia, having
for the last time visited every part of
the house, came to the room which they
had alone used of late, where Wilfred was.
She was very wan and cold : the smile
with which she answered Wilfred's look
was a sickly smile ; she did just as he
desired her — sat down on the couch which
he drew close to the fire, dropping her,
head upon the pillow so wearily ! She
closed her eyes, but he saw the tears
creeping through the lashes and trickling
down the white cheeks — saw the quivering of
her mouth, and the painful working of her
slight fingers.
Seeing all this, he mused. She looked
so very frail, so utterly weary, so unfit
for the life of toil that was just opening
before her, as if the very prospect and
contemplation of it might be enough to
crush her!
BOND AND FREE. 229
"If she loves me," he thought to him-
self— " if she loves me, it will be good for
her now to know of my love, and to have
that dreary, weary prospect shut out. She
would rest upon my love — lean upon it
in full confidence ; it would strengthen
and comfort her, the poor, tired child!
If she does not love me — Well, any way
I must go home soon, there is not much
more that I can do. Even if she does
not love me, to know of my love, sometimes
to think of it, might change the sad current
of her thoughts and give her some rest
from those which trouble her.
So he mused. Then he spoke, saying
only her name.
" Felicia ! " At the sound of his voice
the dim eyes opened and fixed themselves
on him, but the girl did not raise her
head. His heart beat violently — his breath
230 BOND AND FREE.
came fast and thick. He drew a little
nearer, but not close to her.
" Felicia, you will not condemn me as
you did Mr. Templar — you must not —
you cannot, for you know that I loved
you long ago, when I was utterly un-
worthy— not only unworthy of your love,
but utterly unworthy to love you. I do
not mean that I am worthy now ; but I
love you, Felicia, with all love — I have
never ceased to love you. I have kept
this love in my own heart very long, but
it will be heard at last. You will never
part from your mother — I never will part
from mine ; but if you love me, Felicia —
if you feel that, knowing of my love,
you can learn to love me, let us be one
household — be my wife, come home to me
with your mother."
She had raised her head from the pil-
low to listen. As he spoke, light, warmth,
BOND AND FREE. 23 L
and beauty came back into her face — her
eyes shone wtth a great awe and joy.
Implicitly believing what he told her of
his constant love, she triumphed in it —
not for her own sake, but for his —
triumphed in his nobleness of constancy.
She understood both his self-restraint in
not speaking earlier and his reason for
speaking now — all he had done, and his mo-
tives where he had forborne to do — everything
connected with him presented itself to her in
a glorified light. She exulted in the great-
ness and the goodness of the man whom
she loved — loved utterly.
Wilfred came no nearer : he did not
understand the expression of her face.
He could have fallen on his knees and
worshipped its pure beauty — he stood still,
waiting for her judgment.
He spoke again — before she had time
to collect her thoughts : —
232 BOND AND FREE.
" One entreaty I have to make : if you
do not love me with such love as I bear
you — and I hardly dare dream that you
do — forget what I have said. Let me be
anything, so that I still may be some-
thing to you. I can live without your
love, perhaps ; but your friendship, your
affection, I must have, Felicia."
She rose and approached him. He felt
instantly that she came to him not to
give him herself, but her denial.
" Only that I know that you would be
pained to see me kneel, I could thank
you on my knees for your noble love and
constancy — love and constancy which I
cannot repay in the way you wish, but
to think of which seems like some won-
derfully-beautiful, strange dream to me.
Dear Wilfred, you have made me very
happy, but it cannot be as you desire —
I cannot be your wife ! "
BOND AND FREE. 233
Her voice was hardly audible speaking
the last few words. She held her hands
out to him, but did not trust herself to meet
his eyes. Taking her hands, he bowed his
head over them submissively. Leaning his
forehead on them, he said : —
" God has decided. I am not worthy.
He has not let your heart love me."
Her lips parted and her face flushed.
" Never say that you are not worthy ! "
she cried. " It hurts me to hear you say
that ! It is I who have not been worthy to
have been constantly loved by a heart given
to the service of God and of your fellow-
men as yours has been. It is strange and
wonderful to me that you should love me."
He looked up — an eager, inquiring look,
in which was a dawn of transient hope.
" It cannot be — I cannot be your wife !
I have decided ! " she said, in a low, firm
voice.
234 BOND AND FREE.
Wilfred bowed his head down upon her
hands again and then a momentary anguish
dashed her solemn joy ; as her eyes rested on
the greyness of that bowed head her soul
was penetrated by pity.
When he dropped her hands and once
more stood erect, her face was clear, pure,
and serene. They looked fearlessly into
each other's eyes, and he felt that she
indeed loved him ! — with the love of angels —
with love akin to divine love, with love that
loves what most needs loving. Nevertheless,
he implicitly believed her words — that she
could not be his wife — believed that God
had not suffered her heart to be drawn to-
wards him in that way.
Putting away personal pain — suppressing
the anguish of his disappointment, he
said : —
" This need make no difference between
us. You may trust me — I will conquer my-
BOND AND FREE. 235
self. I will never importune you to give
me what you choose to withhold from me.
I will be content to be your friend — but I
must be a close and dear friend. "
That last clause had a touch of passionate
imperiousness.
" My very dearest friend/ ' she said, true-
heartedly. " I shall never have a dearer — I
feel that nothing will come between us here
or hereafter."
She feared she had said too much — yet
she felt she owed him no less. She did not
think at all of her own dignity — she only
longed to give him all assurance of all love
— save only such assurance of such love
as would give him a right to claim her
as his own — to take her burdens upon him-
self.
He sighed, perhaps incredulous of the en-
durance of such a bond. Other words trem-
bled on her lips ; but she turned and fled —
236 BOND AND FREE.
ran upstairs to her own little room, her
harbour of refuge. Alone ! no ears to hear
her, her heart would speak !
" I love him ! I have always loved him !
I am proud that I love him ! His wife !
— I would gladly be his slave ; he would
be more tender to his slave than other
men to their wives — more tender and more
true. Ah, I love him ! Do I remember
the time when I did not love him? And
now I know surely that he loves me
must I be for ever silent about my love?
My tears fell among his grey hairs — as
I looked at them I almost gave way.
Why must I turn away from happiness
purer, clearer, deeper than I ever dreamed
life would offer me? Because I love him.
Does pure love lay heavy burdens on what
it loves, and fetter it with heavy chains?
I know what his life now is — what a
glorious good life it is, and — he has his
BOND AND FREE. 237
mother — he was happy when I saw him
at Tyngelt — and he was free — his noble
hands were free — his noble thoughts were
free. Oh for a little of our wealth to
come back ! then he should take us home
with him ! — take me and my mother, and
I should be his wife, and know such rest !
Oh, pitiful Father ! show me, teach me
— do I do well ? Must I relinquish this
great happiness ? "
She was on her knees by her bedside
now, wringing her upraised hands while
tears streamed down her cheeks.
" I cannot see Thee — I cannot feel
Thee, Father ! — all is dark, and I am
alone, alone ! " she moaned. Then, from
striving to pray, she found her thoughts
wandering to what might be, if- she
dared not contemplate the bright possi-
bility.
" He has had a hard life — he is grow-
238 BOND AND FREE.
ing old before his time — grey and wasted
and worn — how can I lay more burdens
on him — clog his usefulness and cause his
hand to refrain from giving and his
thoughts from travelling wheresoever they
will? Would not his mother hate me? —
his mother, who sacrificed so much for
him ? "
Felicia rose from her knees less calmed
and comforted than ever before in her life ;
she had no confidence in her own decision
— she mistrusted her heart and her reason
equally.
That night, as she lay by her mother,
awake through all the hours of the last
night in their old home, she said to her-
self perpetually : —
"If I have done right, why am I not
at peace? As a child I was only miser-
able when I was naughty. Why can I
find no peace, no rest? Why does my
BOND AND FREE. 239
heart ache in this way ? Does Wilfred
suffer as I do ? If so, I must be wrong
to give him such pain — such gnawing,
wearing pain. But no ! he is a man —
and is doing a noble man's work. I am
but a weak-hearted woman. It is not
likely that he suffers as I do ; he will go
home to his mother and his work, and
will — not forget me — no, but remember me
only as a dear, distant friend."
It was new for Felicia to feel her life-
barque tossing on such troubled waters. Now
it seemed to her that her conduct in deny-
ing herself to Wilfred was presumptuous —
that, loving her as he did, he had a right
to her. Then, again, as she thought of
his mother and of hers, of the sensitive
delicacy of his physical organization and
of his anxious, nervous temperament,
her love justified the decision of her
reason, and she told herself that it was
240 BOND AND FREE.
selfishness, not love, which urged her
to be deaf to all besides, and to listen
only to her own importunate heart.
"Yet, if I am doing right, why am I
not at peace ? " she asked herself again
and again.
241
CHAPTER XVII.
M My pent-up tears oppress my brain,
My heart is swollen with love unsaid ;
Oh, let me weep and tell my pain,
And on thy shoulder rest my head."
Mrs. Southern and Felicia soon settled
down in their new home. It was a small
house in the quiet Minster Yard of
Silverthorpe : its front windows looked
upon some fine old trees which, when
clothed, nearly shut off the Minster, and
from which arose that cawing of rooks
always so suggestive of immemorial
calm. At the back lay a rich open
VOL. III. R
242 BOND AND FREE.
country, bounded by the hills that rose
behind Beech Holmes.
To look upon these familiar hills, even
from an unfamiliar point of view, was a
pleasure to Felicia. Many favourite books
and ornaments and a few small pieces of old-
fashioned furniture which had found their
way from Beech Holmes to Silverthorpe,
gave the small house a pleasant, home-
like aspect.
Wilfred had remained at Beech Holmes
a day or two after the departure of the
mother and daughter in order to make
some final arrangements in their name.
He now lingered in Silverthorpe, sleeping
at the " Golden Lion," but spending
nearly all his time at Mrs. Southern's.
Each day was to be his last day; but he
lingered on, detained by a dim hope and
suspicion — hope and suspicion born of
Felicia's changed manner towards him.
BOND AND FREE. 243
But both his hope and his suspicion
were dim — sometimes they died out utterly.
These days of lingering were peculiarly
trying to Felicia. There was a pause in
her life — a pause between the past and
future — past excitement and future work.
They should have been days of rest. She
deeply needed rest, but she could find no
rest while Wilfred was still near her, and
still so far from her. She earnestly de-
sired that he would leave her and go
home ; and she sickened at the very thought
of the desolation, she should feel when he
was gone. He treated her with a reverent
tenderness and a gentle consideration that
often nearly overpowered her — waking in
her such longing to fall at his knees, and
to confess all her love and all her deep dire
pain ! Her manner towards him became
very uncertain : sometimes she shunned
him, and could hardly bear to meet his
K2
244 BOND AND FREE.
eyes — at other times she could not tear
herself from his presence, and her own
eyes would dwell with overflowing love on
his averted face. Felicia felt herself to be
changed — it seemed to her as if things
foreign to her nature warred within her —
as if some power beyond her control
worked upon her. Sometimes she glided
from the room where Wilfred and her
mother sat, and, locking herself into her
own, abandoned herself to grief — so
wild, so passionate, that she herself was
frightened at its force, and would after-
wards fervently ask God to forgive her
wickedness — to aid her to cast out the evil
spirit that possessed her ; but these fits
were not frequent — generally she was quiet
and her grief was dumb. Of what had
passed between her and Wilfred she had
as yet told her mother nothing ; she
waited till Wilfred should be gone — ah !
BOND AND FREE. 245
when would he go? — what should she do
when he was gone ? — how bear and hide
her deep desolation ?
Poor girl ! — she was truly not herself —
she was over-worn and ill — unable to sus-
tain this self-conflict. The heaviest heavi-
ness of her trouble was, that, un-
like all other trouble she had known in
her short life, she could not lay it down
in prayer. She found no rest for it on
God — no peace within herself — no peace of
conscience. Her very dreams were dreams of
dread : sometimes Wilfred's face, lighted
by reproachful eyes, haunted them ;
sometimes his mother appeared before her
and cried — " You have stolen my son —
you have killed him — you have laid heavy
burdens on him, and have crushed him to
the ground ! "
At last Wilfred one day said firmly: —
" I go to-morrow. "
246 BOND AND FREE.
Felicia felt that this was a fixed
decree. He came to the house at dusk
on his last evening. The house had two
tiny parlours, one on each side the
door. In one Mrs. Southern was
asleep on the sofa — in the other Felicia
was working by the light of a solitary
candle : she could not bear idleness and
fire-light thoughts. Letting him in softly,
that no noise might be made to rouse
her mother, she led him into the room
where she had been sitting.
"Mamma had a wakeful night and is
asleep now," she said. Then she took up
her work again, and drew the candle
nearer.
All the bloom of Felicia's beauty was
gone ; her thin cheeks wore an ashen
pallor, telling of a languid beating heart,
and of sad and stagnant blood. Her mouth
had a painful, quiveringly-compressed ex-
BOND AND FREE. 247
pression ; her eyes were surrounded by-
dark circles, and appeared to hold within
them little but trouble and pain ; even her
beautiful hair seemed to have lost its gloss
and brightness — to-night it was carelessly-
pushed back behind her small ears, leav-
ing the blue-veined temples bare — and this
added greatly to the faded and forlorn look
of her face. And all this faded forlorn-
ness, this change, this waste of beauty, did
but move Wilfred's heart to more intense
love — mixing new elements of sorrow and of
pity with the clear, pure flame of his passion.
" I think I ought to ask your pardon for
having lingered here so long, Felicia, "
Wilfred said, as he watched her fingers;
"I fear it was selfish and has given you
pain; I certainly leave to-morrow/'
" Your mother will be very glad to have
you home," she answered, without raising
her eyes.
248 BOND AND FREE.
Her heart beat suffocatingly now with
what seemed to her a muffled violence ; she
thought drearily how cold and ungrateful,
how insensible to his devotion, he must
think her ! — and she could not help his
thinking her so : she must repress and not
express her feelings — did she but give way
a little, all would be lost.
" You look ill, dear Felicia — ill, and not
happy," Wilfred ventured to remark. " Is
it because, in the tenderness of your heart
and its pity for me, you reproach yourself
for not being able to love me in the way
I desire? If so, be comforted — I shall
always thank God that I have loved you —
that I love you ; my love for you has
been, and will always be, a purifying, high
influence. If you cannot love me as I would
fain be loved by you, I take that as a
sign from God that I am unworthy of the
blessing I desired."
BOND AND FREE. 249
" Oh, hush ! " she said, hastily ; " you
pain me — you think of me so much too
well ; I am so different from what you
think me!"
He smiled, sadly enough — but even sadly
she could not smile.
"Is that Wilfred? Is Wilfred there?"
Mrs. Southern asked from the next room.
" Go to my mother : all the afternoon
she has been watching for you," Felicia
said. The hand she held out to him was
like a hand of ice; he held it a moment
in his, chafing it gently ; but she had
turned her head from him. He released
her hand, sighed, and went to Mrs.
Southern. She did not follow him.
One of Wilfred's gloves lay on the table
near Felicia ; she stretched out her hand
towards it, drew it to her, put her cheek
down upon it. She sat thus, listening to the'
murmur of voices in the next room, till,
250 BOND AND FREE.
stupefied by vague, dull pain, she fell
asleep.
She was awakened with a start by the
cautious closing of a door — the house-door ;
the candle had burnt out — she was alone
in cold and darkness.
" He is gone," she thought ; "I have
slept away the last hour I may ever pass
in the same house with him — stupid, misera-
ble sleep."
" He is gone, mother," she said aloud,
as she knelt down by her mother and
rested her head on her lap.
" Wilfred says that you look very ill,
my child — is it so? Lift up your head,
dearest."
She obeyed, repeating " He is gone, then,
mother ! " The mother read her face, the
despair that made her tone so quiet, the
desolation expressed by her deep eyes. She
felt that her mother read her secret ; she did
BOND AND FREE. 251
not care : he was gone — the struggle was over.
She was sinking — sinking into unconscious-
ness, when her mother's words recalled her.
" He is gone for to-night, love. He
has taken leave of me, knowing that I do
not rise early now : in the morning he comes
to bid you good-bye. You are deathly cold,
darling. Felicia ! n she added solemnly. " I
say only this, and let my few words have
weight : if you sacrifice your happiness for
me, you will make me wish, and will make
me pray, that God should take me out of
this world at once ! "
" Mother ! I have not made, I do not
make, I will not make, any sacrifice for you ! "
Her tone carried conviction with it, for
what she said was true : all her life she
had never contemplated the possibility of
parting from her mother ; if she sacrificed
her happiness it was for Wilfred — Wilfred,
whom she felt to-night could not be happy
252 BOND AND FREE.
unless he believed her happy. Oh! how
should she escape from this maze of doubt
and contradiction into the clearness of sim-
plicity and truth?
Though Mrs. Southern was a talker, on
some subjects she was as reserved as the
most silent of women — she did not probe
her daughter's heart ; she said no more
than, " God guide you, child ; consider your
own heart — God guide you.''
One more wakeful night, hearing the
Minster chimes through all the long hours
of darkness. With dawn light seemed to
come to her mind.
"Am I not acting a lie in letting him
think that I do not love him ? " she
asked herself. " Can this ever be right ?
I will be true to-day, and let God order
all else. The mere knowledge of his love
should have made me infinitely happy ; had
I not been doing wrong, wrong to him, it
BOND AND FREE. 253
would — it must have done so. I will be
true, and leave all else to God."
She rose, and found the morning fair
and mild. "I am very glad he will have
a pleasant journey," she thought. When
she stood before her glass her own face
looked more familiar to her than it had
done for many a day. She made her
mother's breakfast and took it to her,
but she could touch nothing herself this
morning. She had risen so early that she
had to wait some time before Wilfred came.
" If he should not come ? "
Her heart sickened with wistful expec-
tation. When she heard his step and voice
it seemed literally to die within her, and
she grew cold and faint.
"Your mother told me to come this
morning, " he said. "She thought that it
would grieve you if I went without bidd-
ing you good-bye, and I could not wake
254 BOND AND FREE.
you last night ; you had looked so weary,
I was glad to see you sleeping. Was your
mother right? Is it right of me to be
here?"
" Oh, yes ! " She could not look up as
she gave him her hand, for her eyes were
heavy with tears. Presently the heavy tears
fell. Then she raised pure, clear eyes to
his, and tried to speak. She was fair
again now — very fair : her blood was elo-
quent, her heart beat quickly. His eyes
told her so plainly that she was fair, that
her eyes fell again, and a soft blush
mantled her cheek.
"Your sleep did you good, Felicia, and
you rested well last night. I could almost
be sorry to see you looking so glad to-
day, it seems as if you rejoiced that I am
at last going ! "
His face was haggard and wan enough,
she saw. She felt ashamed of her own bloom
as she answered —
BOND AND FREE. 255
" I had no rest last night. For many
nights I have had no rest — I have not been
truthful, and I have had no peace. I did
not trust you as I ought, and I have been
very miserable."
Her blush deepened as she spoke.
Wilfred recoiled.
" I had no right to your confidence — I
have now no right. I desire no confidence,"
he said, hurriedly. " If you had loved me
you would, I know, have had no secrets
from me. But you think too well of me
if you think I can bear to be told of your
love for 'another, and not — not hate that
other ! No ! no ! forget those hasty words —
I will not hate anyone whom you love. Tell
me all : if it is in my power to help you, or
your — your lover — I solemnly declare I will
help you, or him. This is what I promised
— what my promise meant — when — "
" What did my words mean, Wilfred, when
256 BOND AND FREE.
I told you that you would ever be my
dearest friend — that nothing, no one would
ever become between us ? " she asked softly,
and with downcast eyes.
"They meant "
Wilfred bent towards her with agonized
eagerness speaking from his face, but he did
not draw nearer to her.
She rose from her seat, went close to
him, faltered a moment, then knelt down
at his feet, resting her hands on his
knees.
" They meant " — she looked up now
straight into his eyes — " if you had not
been so good and humble you must have
seen that they meant that 1 loved you
better than I can love anyone else — I love
you with all love ! "
He snatched her up into his arms and
held her there. Her poor weary head found
rest, at last, upon his shoulder — her heart
BOND AND FREE. 257
found rest upon his heart. For a little she
knew nothing but this rest — thought of no-
thing but this rest — nay, for a few moments
she knew not even this. He clasped her
close, but so tenderly ! — tenderly as a mo-
ther clasps her babe. This rest was short
and perfect !
At last, pressing his lips on her sealed
lids, he roused her by one word, softly ut-
tered—" Mine ! "
" Yes, always yours in the future, as I
have been always yours in the past; but
not all yours yet — perhaps never. I am
earnest, dear Wilfred. This morning I pro-
mised myself that I would be true — that I
would act a lie no longer. Do not let me
repent my confession. No ! I never can re-
pent it," she said, blushing vividly. "But
do not let me have to strive with you ; for
I am weary of striving — of striving against
my own heart."
VOL. III. S
258 BOND AND FREE.
"In anything reasonable, dear child, your
will shall be mine. Be calm, believing this,
and tell me what it is that you desire."
"To live here with my mother for the
present, Wilfred — for at least two years."
"Two years! — two springs, two summers,
two autumns, two winters. Well, they will
pass — but why should we not pass them to-
gether?— why should we shorten our hap-
piness by two years ? "
Wilfred spoke this calmly, but holding her
close, as if he never meant to part from
her again.
She could not say to him, " In two years
time I may be richer — our little income
may be doubled then and I shall work
during those two years and earn something."
She looked up into his face, her head rest-
ing still against his breast, and said : —
"It will not shorten our happiness !
Those two years will be happy years — such
BOND AND FREE. 259
happy years ! It must be poor, weak love,
that cannot make the absent present. Let
me have my own way; leave me here two
years with my mother. Do not make me
want to fight against your will : I do not
want to strive — I want to rest. Let me
have my way in this; for, indeed, I feel
that my way is right."
Her face, transfigured by love and joy,
shone up into his with radiant light — shone
with something of angelic light — steadfast
in meekness.
" Oh ! my darling ! do with me as you
will ! " he said in a voice of inexpressible
tenderness, which seemed to melt her heart
and will, as sun or fire melt wax : he
felt her tremble in his arms.
" It is well for me that I can put my
trust in your goodness, your generous for-
bearance," she said. " I feel that I can put
no trust in my own strength now or hence-
s2
260 BOND AND FREE.
forward. Yet, let it be as I say in this —
afterwards your words shall be mine — I
will then say — ' Do with me as you will.' "
"It shall be as you wish."
" Oh, why was I not true with you at
once? Forgive me for having given you
pain. I, too, have suffered ! "
" I know it, my poor child ! "
After a pause, she asked — " But, Wil-
fred, how could you believe that I did not
love you? I cannot understand."
"That you should love me is what I
cannot understand, my darling — my Schiitz-
engel ! "
"Must you still go to-day, Wilfred — -just
as -we have found each other?"
" Yes ; because I wrote to my mother
that I certainly would come to-day. You
will write to me often ? — and I may write
to you?"
The manner of her assent gave him a
BOND AND FREE. 261
happy glimpse into the wealth and power
of that kingdom of her love over which she
elected him to reign.
It was soon time for them to part.
Facing the full light, they each looked
with happy awe into the face of the other;
each recognized the work of love in the
other's altered, glorified countenance.
Wilfred paled suddenly.
" Two years, Felicia ! What if God's
angel, Death, should gather thee or me
before two years ? "
" God's angel, Death, can only do God's
bidding, dearest ; can only do what is — in
all ways — best. Even then we should have
known great happiness on earth : even then
we should not be divided. I do not feel
as if anything — not even death — could now
deprive me of you ! "
" God grant we — neither of us — may be
262 BOND AND FREE.
so tried. Two years, Felicia, darling ! It
is a long, long time ! "
" It will pass quickly — and oh, so happily !
I feel that I live to-day for the first time
for many days. How have I deserved to be
so happy?"
263
CHAPTER XVIII.
" in Ruh und Freude,
Frei von Furcht, zu gross zum Neide,
Lieb ich, ewig lieb' ich Sie."
"Two years is a great while. She should
remember how long you have loved her
— that you are no longer young. She
should not try you so."
"I do not quite understand why she
makes me wait so long ; but I have
full faith in her, mother — she is right, no
doubt."
"You must not expect me to judge her
quite as you do."
264 BOND AND FREE.
"Mother?"
"I only mean that I am not her lover.
She is a sweet, gentle creature. I will
love her dearly, for your sake and for her
own ; only you must not expect me to
think her quite perfection, in all things,
as you do."
" Not so, dearest mother — she is too per-
fect a woman to be perfection. She has
faults, doubtless; but faults for which a
man must only love her the more."
Gentle as was the check to the outpour-
ing of his rapture which Wilfred received
in this first evening talk after his return,
it was a check, and served him as a warn-
ing: he forebore afterwards to speak much
or otherwise than quietly of Felicia. His
mother felt that he had placed his love
under restraint and knew why he had done
so : she studied to undo what she had done.
As time went on she felt assured that she
BOND AND FREE. 265
was no less to her son than formerly :
her place in his heart was a peculiar one
— no love of wife or child could, she felt,
ever displace the love he bore her. By-
degrees her joy in her son's joy absorbed
all selfish elements that had hindered her
heart from knowing unmixed joy — by de-
grees her love for Felicia became a love
such as angels might look upon.
Lady Tregarther and her husband called
on Mrs. Verbane a few weeks after Wil-
fred's return, to congratulate her on her
son's engagement.
Mr. Tregarther spoke of Wilfred in a
way which showed him to entertain posi-
tive, almost fatherly, affection for his secre-
tary, and which brought tears to the eyes
of Wilfred's mother.
" I envy you, madam," he concluded —
" I envy you the possession of such a
son, and the prospect of having such a
266 BOND AND FREE.
daughter ! Ah ! if I had such a son ! If
my dear boy had lived ! " His own eyes
twinkled with moisture as he spoke.
Lady Tregarther sat by, enduring much
uneasiness ; she feared that her husband
would lower his own dignity in Mrs. Ver-
bane's eyes by so exalting the character
and importance of his secretary. She need
not have feared that any words of Mr.
Tregarther's could have raised Wilfred in
the estimation of his mother higher than
the constant companionship of more than
five years had already set him.
"You know somewhat how I feel towards
your son now, madam," Mr. Tregarther
said, as he took his leave ; " and I throw
myself on your candour — what can I do
for him ? I have always felt that the re-
muneration he has accepted from me has
been inadequate. Now I must and will do
something for him. I am not quixotic and
BOND AND FREE. 267
disinterested/' he said, with a glance at his
lady, whom he wished away; "I want to
fix him here, in my neighbourhood. Shall
I build him a house? This will not be
large enough for him when he brings home
his wife and her mother. Turn the matter
over in your mind, and let me know if
this is the best thing I can do for him."
Lady Tregarther looked to see Mrs.
Yerbane quite overcome by the splendour
of her husband's offer ; but Mrs. Verbane
showed no great emotion — she was gra-
tified, and she said so in a manner at
once meek and dignified. She promised to
ascertain her son's wishes, and mentioned
her own idea, which was, that an enlarge-
ment of Seafern Cottage would be all that
Wilfred would desire.
Not long afterwards the .architect who
had built the Tyngelt Institute came to in-
spect the Cottage, and to plan extensive
268 BOND AND FREE.
enlargements and alterations. The conse-
quence was, that the house was given up
to workpeople for six months, during which
time Wilfred and his mother occupied rooms
at Tyngelt Place. The alterations were
commenced in spring and finished by the
autumn. The house, and a considerable
piece of ground round it, were then pre-
sented to Wilfred — a free gift from his
landlord and employer.
Young Hind, Wilfred's protege, about this
time married a daughter of one of the most
respectable men of the place. On the death
of his father — Mr. Tregarther's bailiff — he
was able to do more than fill that father's
situation, by virtue of his superior educa-
tion and intelligence, and of his equal
honesty and general trust-worthiness. He
never forgot what he owed Wilfred, and
was able to serve him and lighten his
labours in many ways — both as regarded
BOND AND FREE. 269
Mr. Tregarther's business and affairs, and
the good work carried on at the Institute.
The first anniversary of the day when
Felicia's love had been confessed to Wil-
fred came round. During all the year all
his life had been hers — -somewhat in the
same sense as all men's lives should be
God's ; but of every day some portion was
more peculiarly her own; each day had a
rest-time, a holy time spent in reading
and in answering her letters.
On the morning of this anniversary he
sat in his new study at Seafern Cottage,
and wrote to her: —
" You were right, my own love ; half
the time of waiting you imposed has
passed — passed like a happy dream — not
an idle dream : the year has been one
of preparation — of preparation for my great
happiness — the looking forward to which,
and learning to believe in which, has been
270 BOND AND FREE.
happiness enough. But, the next year,
Felicia ! Your home here is almost ready
for you — my new book is almost finished
— it will be hard to be patient through
another year.
" Your mother hints to mine that you
work too hard — give too many lessons in
a day, and take too little rest. If so,
this is wrong, my child. I did not think
that you had been too proud to owe all
to one who loves you as I do. Remem-
ber you are mine — that you have no
right to hurt yourself — that, in doing so,
you are hurting me.
" One whole year more- — it can hardly
be — you could hardly wish it to be if
you knew the strength and depth of my
longing to touch your hand and hear your
voice — if you had tried to take any mea-
sure of my love.
" See, dearest — I must write no more.
BOND AND FREE. 271
I was patient and quiet when I 'began;
now my heart is beating wildly for you,
and I grow almost angry with you for
your steadfastness."
In one of Felicia's letters, she said :
"I am happy —so happy, that I doubt
if I can be happier. From so many little
things I gain pleasure so intense that my
life is rich indeed.
"Indeed, Wilfred, I do remember always
that I am yours. I have the most careful
care of myself, because I am yours ; but
nothing seems able to hurt me, or weary
me — I have such rest in thinking that I
am yours.
" I do not long for you, in the way you
say you long for me. I can always call
you to me when I will. Once or twice I
have been startled, for I have pictured you
so vividly that I believed I saw you with
my bodily eyes.
272 BOND AND FREE.
" Last evening I was just a little tired,
so I stayed at home when mamma went to
spend the evening with an old friend of
hers who is come to live at Silverthorpe.
I wrote to you and read your dear letters ;
then I put myself on the sofa, meaning to
read (something of yours, I will not tell
you what) ; but I did not open the book
directly — I let it lie on my heart, and I lay
thinking of you till I fell asleep.
" I woke feeling rather strange, and
found that you were sitting by me. My
candle was gone out, but there was enough
fire-light in the room for me to see you
by. I did not speak to you at once, but
lay looking at you. I did not feel fright-
ened or even surprised — but so quiet, rested
and happy. I know I was awake. Pre-
sently I spoke to you — you did not an-
swer. I turned cold when — putting my hand
towards you to touch you — I found that
BOND AND FREE. 273
you were not there, that there was nothing
where I had seen you. Then I behaved
like a disappointed, unreasonable child. I
began to cry. I did not feel happy
again till I got your sweet, dear letter this
morning.
" I often laugh to myself, when I won-
der what some of my employers would
think if they knew a few of the things
which I know about the sedate and precise
Miss Southern."
"Another letter like the last," Wilfred
wrote in answer, "And I must fly to you
and claim you, at once. Of what stuff do
you think that I am made? I do not be-
lieve in your being strong, you fair, frail
lily of my heart.
"Sometimes it is with me as it was
with you that night — sometimes you flit
through the library at Tyngelt Place, as
you did once — sometimes you sit by me
VOL. III. T
274 BOND AND FREE.
in my study at home, as you never did, but
as, please God, you will do ; but this is when
my brain has been overworked, or my strength
in some way overtasked."
That winter was one of great distress in
the north, and even the quiet town of
Silverthorpe shared the general fate ; the
following spring and summer were unset-
tled and unhealthy — during the autumn the
mortality was great.
Mrs. Southern's letters to Mrs. Verbane
at this time showed great uneasiness about
Felicia, and were not always shown to
Wilfred.
" She seems to feel that her own great
happiness gives others all sorts of claims
upon her." Her mother wrote once — " Her
life is more entirely for others than ever
now : she has acted as sick-nurse in several
instances. I cannot but fear that she will
wear herself out. She says that she feels
BOND AND FREE. 275
that she cannot do enough, cannot spend
herself for others utterly enough, to show
her gratitude to God for her own happi-
ness. The fever so prevalent here is not
infectious ; I feel no alarm on that head —
my fear is for the consequence of all this
exertion, and of the painful excitement she
has gone through."
Mrs. Verbane thought it right to show
Wilfred the letter in which this passage
occurred : after reading it, he wrote a
solemn and impassioned appeal to Felicia.
Felicia's answer, beginning with an un-
wonted outbreak of love and longing, con-
tained a mild rebuke : —
."That I am not my own, but yours,
is my most urgent reason for doing as I
have done," she said. " If I had acted
otherwise, I should have dishonoured you.
How could I refrain my hands from doing
what little they could of the much that
t2
276 BOND AND FREE.
was to do, when I remembered that they
are your hands? Thank God! things mend
round us daily, now — this early, bracing
cold drives sickness away. Though I do
not think I ever felt less in need of nursing
and of rest, to please you, and to please
mamma, I will rest now " There was
a break in the letter — then, in a feeble
hand, followed these words : —
" I grew excited over this long letter,
and, for almost the first time in my life,
fainted. I tell you this that you may be
sure that I am always and all true with you.
It was nothing ; I am going to bed — to-
morrow morning I shall be quite well, please
God."
Next morning a little note was written,
which declared Felicia to be quite well
again, only still " a little tired."
After that note came silence — no more of
those loving letters, but silence. A heavy
BOND AND FREE. 277
and early fall of snow obstructed the roads in
many parts of England. For a day or two
Wilfred suffered this to be an excuse for
this silence : but soon the silence grew
and stirred for him — with images of dread.
"If Felicia were ill, her mother would
write/' Mrs. Verbane said. " It cannot be
that — some accident must have occurred to
the mails."
" It is a week since I heard. Mr. Tre-
garther had letters by the north mail to-
day. I can bear this suspense no longer.
I must go to Silverthorpe."
Mrs Verbane offered no opposition. Of
this she was very glad, when, an hour
after Wilfred had left her, a mounted
messenger brought a telegraphic message
from the neighbouring town : —
"Come quickly. F. S. is ill."
278
CHAPTER XIX.
"Fast this life of mine was dying —
Blind already, and calm as death ;
Snow-flakes on her bosom lying,
Scarcely heaving with her breath."
Snow-plains bounded by snow-covered hills
surrounded Silverthorpe : the town was
purely white, and deathly silent — purely
white and deathly silent as a maiden's
death- chamber, as the little room, looking
towards the hills, in which Felicia lay.
Day was closing in : fire-light was gain-
ing over the sad twilight — it was only the
ruddy fire-light that lent a life-like glow
BOND AND FREE. 279
to anything in that room. Felicia lay as
she had long lain ; the face on the pillows
was as white, as calm — almost as cold —
as one of sculptured marble. Her mother
sat by her, keeping a hopeless, breathless
watch — her face almost as calm, in its des-
pair, as the face upon which she gazed.
The thick-lying snow muffled all sounds
in the Minster Yard; for days no foot-fall
had been heard to echo there. The phy-
sician who sat in the little parlour waiting
for the final change, the end, was this
evening startled by a light tap against
the glass, and by seeing a face pressed
close against the uncurtained window.
Startled for a moment only : then he rose,
and noiselessly opened the hall-door, ad-
mitting Wilfred, covered with snow-flakes.
" Mr. Verbane ? Exactly. You have
been long expected: I fear you come too
late. There will hardly be any return of
280 BOND AND FREE.
consciousness now — nature is completely
exhausted."
"She still lives?"
"And that is all. More utter prostra-
tion of the system I have rarely seen.
She suffers no pain : death will come
insensibly. We looked for you yesterday,
and the day before."
" I have walked many miles. There
was an accident on the line : I was
stunned for a few hours — then communica-
tion was cut off. I could not hire any
conveyance."
As he spoke he freed himself from his
over-coat, and shook the snow from his
hair ; then asked —
" I can do no harm by seeing her ? "
"None."
Hopeless grief is passionless. The first
shock of a great sorrow numbs the soul,
unless it is met and resisted by incredulity
BOND AND FREE. 281
which will not abandon hope. There was
a dead calm in Wilfred's heart — a sus-
pension of feeling : thought and sensation
were alike deadened. He mounted the
stairs slowly ; with mechanical caution he
opened the chamber door softly.
He approached the bed on the opposite
side to that on which the mother watched.
As he did so, she lifted her eyes in weary
recognition, murmured— " God pity you,
and pardon you — you come too late ! "
and then let them resume their unflinch-
ing and nothing-hoping vigil.
As Wilfred stood there in that white
and silent chamber — as he looked down
upon the white and silent face of his
almost lost love, a change came over him
— a revulsion of feeling. He rebelled
against the mastery of awe-born despair
which held him passive. A hot passion
of desperate resistance surged up in him
suddenly.
282 BOND AND FREE.
"I do not give her up — I will not !
Felicia, come back to me ! " he cried,
and his voice sounded like a trumpet-call
through the hushed house, as, bending
over her, he repeated her name. Such
subtle change as showed it was not a
face of marble stole over the countenance
of the dying girl. He saw it and hoped
— her mother saw it and feared ; he
threw himself down by Felicia, laid his
face against hers upon the pillow, and
cried : —
" Felicia ! my Felicia, hear me ! — return
to me, if only for a moment, return to
me!"
He took her in his arms now, held
her breast to breast, pressed his burning
lips again and again upon her cold
mouth, and murmured over her words most
passionately tender.
Mrs. Southern was roused to horror as
she saw this.
BOND AND FREE. 283
" Oh, Wilfred, Wilfred ! be calm/' she
cried, " let my poor child die in peace ! "
He paid no heed to her, but, after a
little, raised his head, pointed to the
face resting on his breast, and said —
" Mother ! this is not death. God
gives her back to me — she will live ! "
Even as he spoke Felicia's dim eyes
unclosed, a faint smile dawned upon her
lips, and her breast heaved with a long,
deep breath.
The physician now approached the bed,
laid a finger on the girl's pulse, pro-
nounced that there was more vitality than
he had expected, ordered stimulants to be
administered freely and frequently, and
spoke of hope. Promising to return
before morning, he left the house.
Hour after hour Wilfred held his so
nearly lost love in his arms.
It was long before she slept ; he
284 BOND AND FREE.
watched the mists of languor, of a weari-
ness that had been unto death, roll
slowly from before the soft dove-like eyes,
and he gazed upon the ineffable sweet-
ness of the peaceful mouth, till, when the
eyes were clear again to look into his,
and the lips at last had power to form
his name — when he knew that God had
indeed permitted him to win his bride
back from the jaws of death — the strength
of his joy and gratitude overmastering him,
blinding him by a sudden rush of tears,
he laid his head down beside her and
wept.
" So late ! * Felicia murmured, when
she heard the midnight chimes. " You
and my mother must rest now — I shall sleep
well to-night."
She moved her head from his shoulder
to the pillow, smiled into his face,
gently returned the pressure of his
BOND AND FREE. 285
hands, and sank into a warm, rosy sleep,
with that smile still on her mouth. ■
Unbroken silence again reigned in the
house ; but it was the silence of night and
of natural rest.
286
CHAPTER. XX.
"Owe will walk this world,
Yoked in all exercise of noble end ;
And so through those dark gates, across the wild
That no man knows."
M Beloved, let us love so well,
Our work shall still be better for our love,
And still our love be sweeter for our work ;
And both commended, for the sake of each,
By all true workers and true lovers born."
"Never again to part!" On this Wil-
fred insisted.
" Meeting as we met, we must never again
part. It is simply impossible," he said.
" We neither of us care anything for idle
ceremony or etiquette — nothing for the
BOND AND FREE. 287
gossiping comment of this place, which
we shortly leave, nor of the place to
which we go. We will not part again :
when you are strong enough to go out —
strong enough to travel — you shall fix the
day for our wedding : after it we will all
go home. Till then you must suffer me
here — me and my mother."
Felicia's recovery was not rapid. Mrs.
Yerbane came to Silverthorpe that they
might all spend Christmas together; but
she stipulated that she should afterwards
be allowed to return to Tyngelt alone, to
make all things ready for the coming home
of the bride.
After the early and severe cold of the
autumn, Christmas-day came like a day of
spring. On this day Felicia was, for the
first time since her illness, brought down
to the little sitting-room. It had been
made gay and sweet — a bouquet of violets
288 BOND AND FREE.
and Christmas roses was on the table, and
sprigs of scarlet-berried holly brightened
the walls. Here Felicia and Wilfred kept
holy day together — the two mothers having
gone to the morning service in the Min-
ster.
Felicia lay on the couch by the fire —
Wilfred occupied a low seat by her.
" You are thinking, love— of what ? " he
asked, after a long silence.
" Hardly thinking — I was more sunning
myself in my own happiness : the thought
that God let you give me back my life
is such a very sweet thought — my life re-
turned to me through you, to be shared
with you, seems so dear and beautiful.
Had you not come I should indeed have
died that night. So now more than ever
I feel that my life belongs to you; feel-
ing this, I love it and value it as I never
did before — is this wrong ? "
BOND AND FREE. 289
" Felicia, sometimes I could almost wish
you a little different, a ■ little less humble,
that it might be possible for you to un-
derstand the nature of my love for you
— the height and depth of my reverence
for you. But, love, be ever as you are ; it
is good for me that my spirit should lie
at your feet — and it is your humility, more
than any other grace or virtue of yours,
that has drawn it there."
A shadow of perplexity crossed Felicia's
clear brow and eyes.
" It is a great mystery," she said, thought-
fully ; "it makes me very happy to be
loved ; but what you have said of rever-
ence puzzles, almost pains me. If I ven-
ture to compare myself with you, I can
find nothing that you should reverence — I
feel myself so ignorant, so shallow — I want
your love, and nothing but your love : when
you speak of reverence, I tremble lest it
VOL. III. u
290 BOND AND FREE.
should prove that you have loved some
fancied Felicia, and not the real one. Do
not look pained, dearest — I feel that every
hour I spend with you makes me more
worthy of you. Every day will, please
God, lift me nearer to you ; living with you
always, I shall grow more and more like
what you now believe me to be — at least,
I shall pray God that it may be so."
" Your memory for evil fails you,
Felicia ; you forget some parts of my life.
I will not speak of them now — we will
quarrel when you are stronger." He noted
a deepening flush on Felicia's cheeks, and
over-much light in her eyes. " One thing
I do, thank God, heartily believe — it is,
that Felicia's husband must necessarily be
a good, true man — that nothing fosters true
manliness so much as the love and contem-
plation of such true womanliness as yours.
You, dear child, must be content to have
me owe much to you. If you choose,
BOND AND FREE. 291
you shall believe that I am very-
strong of mind, an intellectual giant,
able to master things that transcend
your apprehension ; but then you must let
me believe in the perfection of your child-
like goodness and God-given wisdom, and
find my best rest on this belief. If you
can, you shall believe that I am, even in
a high sense, a poet ; but then you must
be patient with my belief that your life
is poetry ! "
She had listened intently while he spoke ;
now, letting her head sink upon his breast,
and clasping his hand in both hers, she
said, a little weariedly, but brightening as
she proceeded —
"Let everything be as you will — what
I am, and what you are, God only really
knows. I am content to know that I love
you l over and over, and through and through,'
as I used to say to mamma — to know that
I believe in the goodness and purity of your
292 BOND AND FREE.
every thought, and the nobleness of your
whole nature. Oh, Wilfred, when I was at
Tyngelt I heard so much, so many different
things from so many different people, about
you! When I saw you that night, and
heard you speak for the miners, and then
heard them speak of you, I knew certainly
that though you might not always have
been all that was manly and noble, you
were then all noble. The joy this certain
knowledge gave me was unspeakably great.
Before, when we met the Tregarthers in
London, and heard so much from them about
a Mr. Verbane, I used sometimes to lie
awake at night, feeling very unhappy, vaguely
jealous of this stranger's noble usefulness,
and anxious — oh, so anxious about you ! To
find you in this Mr. Verbane, and to feel
again in your presence as I used to feel
in former times — like a little child being
taught by a dear master what it is only just
able to learn — would have made me more
BOND AND FREE. 293
happy than I could have borne to be then,
if you had not seemed so cold and distant,
if I had not felt as if I stood such a very
long way off you ."
" As I felt that you did and should, my
child ; for I constantly remembered the un-
worthiness of my past conduct — its cowardice
and treachery, and felt myself unfit to stand
in your presence, my child — my sweet, dear
loving, and trusting child. Ah, Felicia ! "
he added, "I think a man can only fully
understand our Saviour's reverence for chil-
dren— his injunction to his followers to be
as little children — when he loves a child-
hearted woman with all the powers of all
his nature ! But, love, you have talked too
much, I think — rest now, or your mother
will scold me, seeing these over-bright eyes."
"Life is all rest for me," she said — " no-
thing but rest for me. Oh, why should I
be allowed to know such great, such perfect
happiness ? "
294 BOND AND FREE.
When, by-and-by, they saw the two mo-
thers coming homeward across the Minster
Yard, Felicia said —
"Don't you think that some day we may
forget which is which of the two mothers —
which was once only yours, which was
once only mine — loving them both so dearly
— so just alike ? "
The four who kept this Christmas-day
together believe that they shall keep all
future Christmas-days together : even when
two only are left on earth, or it may be when
only one is left.
Early in the new year Wilfred took his
wife and her mother home to his mother
at Seafern Cottage.
Of this husband and wife it may be said,
that
" these twain, upon the skirts of Time,
Sit side by side, full-suinm'd in all their powers;
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self-reverent each, and reverencing each ;
Distinct in individualities,
But like each other, ev'n as those who love."
BOND AND FREE. 295
From the schools and institutes of Tyn-
gelt, and from those springing up in the
neighbourhood, may come working men
whose work will tell largely upon the
world; men, whose strength for good will
lie as much in the tenderness of their hearts
and of their consciences, as in the keenness
of their intellects or their might of moral
muscle.
Wilfred's Felicia is the Felicia of many
homes. A wife — rejoicing in a justified faith
in the high possibilities of humanity, and
with a heart at rest, because of the perfect-
ness of its love and its conviction of the
perfect worthiness of the one loved — may
often lead two lives and work two works
in the world — may do an angel's work and
a woman's, working good both consciously
and unconsciously. Without pain, save such
pain of pity as angels feel — without the
slightest sullying of her white robe of child-
like faith and love — she may walk this earth
296 BOND AND FREE.
gloriously free, and cause the light and the
breath of heaven to penetrate its darkest
and foulest places.
Women whose hearts have found no rest
either on God or man, throwing themselves,
whether with arrogant or generous temerity,
into the first work so-called " good " pre-
sented to them, may lower and pollute their
natures by familiar contact with things im-
pure, and so cease to have any power of
good over those for whom they have blindly
sacrificed themselves ; but for Felicia — the
meekness of whose faith in God, and the
quietness of whose love for her husband,
are the pledges of the stability and perfect-
ness of this faith and this love — there exists
no such danger.
THE END.
R. BORN, PRINTER, GTX>UCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK.
NOW IN COUKSE OP PUBLICATION,
HURST AM) BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY
OF CHEAP EDITIONS OF
POPULAR MODERN WORKS.
Each, in a single volume, elegantly printed, bound, and illustrated, price os.
A volume to appear every two months. The following are now ready.
VOL. I.— SAM SLICK'S NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY LEECH,
" The first volmneof Messrs Hurst and Blackett's Standard Library of Cheap Editions
of Popular Modern Works forms a very good beginning to what will doubtless be a very
successful undertaking. ' Nature and Human Nature ' is one of the best of Sam. Slick s
witty and humorous productions, and well entitled to the large circulation which it
cannot fail to obtain in its present convenient and cheap shape. The volume combines
with the great recommendations of a clear, bold type, and good paper, the lesser, but
still attractive merits, of being well illustrated and elegantly bound."— Horning Post.
" This new and cheap edition of Sam Slick's popular work will be an acquisition to
all lovers of wit and humour. Mr Justice Haliburton's writings are so well known to
the English public that no commendation is needed. The volume is very handsomely
bound and illustrated, and the paper and type are excellent. It is in every way suited
for a library edition, and as the names of Messrs Hurst and Blaekett warrant the
character of the works to be produced in their Standard Library, we have no doubt the
project will be eminently successful."— Sun.
VOL. IL— JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.
" This is a very good and a very interesting work. It is designed to trace the career
from boyhood to age of a perfect man— a Christian gentleman, and it abounds in incident
both well and highly wrought. -* Throughout it is conceived, in a high spirit, and written
with great ability. This cheap and handsome new edition is worthy to pass freely from
hand to hand as a gift book in many households." — Examiner.
" The new and cheaper edition of this interesting work will doubtless meet with great
success. John Halifax, the hero of this most beautiful story, is no ordinary hero, and this,
his history, is no ordinary book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentleman, one of
nature's own nobility. It is also the history of a home, and a thoroughly English one.
The work abounds in incident, and many of the scenes are full of graphic power and true
pathos. It is a book that few will read without becoming wiser and better."— Scotsman.
VOL. III.— THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS.
BY ELIOT WARBURTON.
"Independent of its value as an original narrative, and its useful and interesting
information, this work is remarkable for the colouring power and play of fancy with
which its descriptions are enlivened. Among its greatest and most lasting charms is its
reverent and serious spirit."— Quarterly Review.
" A book calculated to prove more practically useful was never penned than ' The
Crescent and the Cross' — a work which surpasses all others in its homage for the sub-
lime and its love for the beautiful in those famous regions consecrated to everlasting
immortality in the annals of the prophets, and which no other writer has ever depicted
with a pencil at once so reverent and so picturesque."— Sun.
VOL. IV.— NATHALIE. BY JULIA KAVANAGH.
" ' Nathalie ' is Miss Kavanagh's best imaginative effort. Its manner is gracious and
attractive. Its matter is good. A sentiment, a tenderness, are commanded by her which
are as individual as they are elegant. We should not soon come to an end were we to
specify all the delicate touches and attractive pictures which place ' Nathalie ' high among
books of its class."— Athenceum.
"A more judicious selection than 'Nathalie' could not have been made for Messrs
Hurst and Blackett's Standard Library. The series as it advances realises our first im-
pression, that it will be one of lasting celebrity."— Literary Gazette.
[JOE OTHEK VOLUMES SEE NEXT PAGE.]
HURST AND BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY
(continued).
VOL. V.— A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN.
BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."
" A book of sound counsel. It is one of the most sensible works of its kind, well-writ-
ten, true-hearted, and altogether practical. Whoever wishes to give ad\:ice to a young
lady may thank the author for means of doing so." — Examiner.
" These thoughts are good and humane. They are thoughts we would wish women to
think." — Atlienceum.
" This really valuable volume ought to be in every young woman's hand. It will teach
her how to think and how to act."— Literary Gazette.
VOL. VI.— ADAM GRAEME OF MOSSGRAY.
BY THE AUTHOR OF " MRS MARGARET MAITLAND."
" • Adam Graeme ' is a story awakening genuine emotions of interest and delight by its
admirable pictures of Scottish life and scenery. The plot is cleverly complicated, and
there is great vitality in the dialogue, and remarkable brilliancy in the descriptive pas- '
sages. The eloquent author sets before us the essential attributes of Christian virtue,
their deep and silent workings in the heart, and their beautiful manifestations in the
life, with a delicacy, a power, and atruth which can hardly be surpassed."— Post.
VOL. VIL— SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS
AND MODERN INSTANCES.
" The best of all Judge Haliburton's admirable works. It is one of the pleasantcst
books we ever read, and we earnestly recommend it." — Standard.
" The present production is remarkable alike for its racy humour, its sound philo-
sophy, the felicity of its illustrations, and the delicacy of its satire.— Post.
VOL. VIIL— CARDINAL WISEMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE LAST FOUR POPES.
" A picturesque book on Rome and its ecclesiastical sovereigns, by an eloquent Roman
Catholic. Cardinal Wiseman has here treated a special subject with so much generality
and geniality, that his Recollections will excite no ill-feeling in those who are most
conscientiously opposed to every idea of human infallibility represented in Papal domin-
ation."— Atlienceum.
VOL. IX.— A LIFE FOR A LIFE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."
" We are always glad to mention Miss Muloch. She writes from her own convictions
and she has the power not only to conceive clearly what it is that she wishes to say, but
to express it in language effective and vigorous. In 'A Life for a Life she is iortunate
in a good subject, and she has produced a work of strong effect. The reader having
read the book through for the story, will be apt (if he be of our persuasion) to return
and read aeain many pages and passages with greater pleasure than on a first perusal.
The whole book is replete with a graceful, tender delicacy; and, m addition to its other
merits, it is written in good, careful English."— Atlienceum.
VOL. X.— THE OLD COURT SUBURB.
BY LEIGH HUNT. (May 1.)
" A delightful book. A work that will be welcome to all readers, and most welcome
to those who have a love for the best kinds of reading."— Examiner. .
"A more agreeable and entertaining book has not been published since Boswell pro-
duced his reminiscences of Johnson."— Observer.
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.