Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft Part 2

'Not an elegant comparison,' said Lilias; 'besides, you must remember that your hasty brawling streams do not reflect like tranquil lakes.'

'One of Lily's poetical hits, I declare!' said Lord Rotherwood, 'but she need not have taken offence--I did not refer to her--only Claude and Emily, and perhaps--no, I will not say who else.'

'Then, Rotherwood, I will tell you what I am--the Lily that derives all its support from the calm lake.'

'Well done, Lily, worthy of yourself,' cried Lord Rotherwood, laughing, 'but you know I am always off when you talk poetry.'

'I suspect it is time for us all to be off,' said Claude, 'did I not hear it strike the quarter?'

'And to-morrow I shall be off in earnest,' said Lord Rotherwood.

'Half way to London before Claude has given one turn to "his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head."'

'Shall we see you at Easter?' said Emily.

'No, I do not think you will. I am engaged to stay with somebody somewhere, I forget the name of place and man; besides, Grosvenor Square is more tolerable then than at any other time of the year, and I shall spend a fortnight with my mother and Florence. It is after Easter that you come to Oxford, is it not, Claude?'

'Yes, my year of idleness will be over. And there is the Baron looking at his watch.'

The 'Baron' was the t.i.tle by which the young people were wont to distinguish Mr. Mohun, who, as Lily believed, had a right to the t.i.tle of Baron of Beechcroft. It was certain that he was the representative of a family which had been settled at Beechcroft ever since the Norman Conquest, and Lily was very proud of the name of Sir William de Moune in the battle roll, and of Sir John among the first Knights of the Garter. Her favourite was Sir Maurice, who had held out Beechcroft Court for six weeks against the Roundheads, and had seen the greater part of the walls battered down. Witnesses of the strength of the old castle yet remained in the ma.s.sive walls and broad green ramparts, which enclosed what was now orchard and farm- yard, and was called the Old Court, while the dwelling-house, built by Sir Maurice after the Restoration, was named the New Court. Sir Maurice had lost many an acre in the cause of King Charles, and his new mansion was better suited to the honest squires who succeeded him, than to the mighty barons his ancestors. It was substantial and well built, with a square gravelled court in front, and great, solid, folding gates opening into a lane, bordered with very tall well- clipped holly hedges, forming a polished, green, p.r.i.c.kly wall. There was a little door in one of these gates, which was scarcely ever shut, from whence a well-worn path led to the porch, where generally reposed a huge Newfoundland dog, guardian of the hoops and walkingsticks that occupied the corners. The front door was of heavy substantial oak, studded with nails, and never closed in the daytime, and the hall, wainscoted and floored with slippery oak, had a n.o.ble open fireplace, with a wood fire burning on the hearth.

On the other side of the house was a terrace sloping down to a lawn and bowling-green, hedged in by a formal row of evergreens. A n.o.ble plane-tree was in the middle of the lawn, and beyond it a pond renowned for water-lilies. To the left was the kitchen garden, terminating in an orchard, planted on the ramparts and moat of the Old Court; then came the farm buildings, and beyond them a field, sloping upwards to an extensive wood called Beechcroft Park. In the wood was the cottage of Walter Greenwood, gamekeeper and woodman by hereditary succession, but able and willing to turn his hand to anything, and, in fact, as Adeline once elegantly termed him, the 'family tee totum.'

To the right of the house there was a field, called Long Acre, bounded on the other side by the turnpike road to Raynham, which led up the hill to the village green, surrounded by well-kept cottages and gardens. The princ.i.p.al part of the village was, however, at the foot of the hill, where the Court lane crossed the road, led to the old church, the school, and parsonage, in its little garden, shut in by thick yew hedges. Beyond was the blacksmith's shop, more cottages, and Mrs. Appleton's wondrous village warehouse; and the lane, after pa.s.sing by the handsome old farmhouse of Mr. Harrington, Mr. Mohun's princ.i.p.al tenant, led to a bridge across a clear trout stream, the boundary of the parish of Beechcroft.

CHAPTER III--THE NEW PRINCIPLE

'And wilt thou show no more, quoth he, Than doth thy duty bind?

I well perceive thy love is small.'

On the Sunday evening which followed Eleanor's wedding, Lilias was sitting next to Emily, and talking in very earnest tones, which after a time occasioned Claude to look up and say, 'What is all this about?

Something remarkably absurd I suspect.'

'Only a new principle,' said Emily.

'New!' cried Lily, 'only what must be the feeling of every person of any warmth of character?'

'Now for it then,' said Claude.

'No, no, Claude, I really mean it (and Lily sincerely thought she did). I will not tell you if you are going to laugh.'

'That depends upon what your principle may chance to be,' said Claude. 'What is it, Emily? She will be much obliged to you for telling.'

'She only says she cannot bear people to do their duty, and not to act from a feeling of love,' said Emily.

'That is not fair,' returned Lily, 'all I say is, that it is better that people should act upon love for its own sake, than upon duty for its own sake.'

'What comes in rhyme with Lily?' said Claude.

'Don't be tiresome, Claude, I really want you to understand me.'

'Wait till you understand yourself,' said the provoking brother, 'and let me finish what I am reading.'

For about a quarter of an hour he was left in peace, while Lily was busily employed with a pencil and paper, under the shadow of a book, and at length laid before him the following verses:-

'What is the source of gentleness, The spring of human blessedness, Bringing the wounded spirit healing, The comforts high of heaven revealing, The lightener of each daily care, The wing of hope, the life of prayer, The zest of joy, the balm of sorrow, Bliss of to-day, hope of to-morrow, The glory of the sun's bright beam, The softness of the pale moon stream, The flow'ret's grace, the river's voice, The tune to which the birds rejoice; Without it, vain each learned page, Cold and unfelt each council sage, Heavy and dull each human feature, Lifeless and wretched every creature; In which alone the glory lies, Which value gives to sacrifice?

'Tis that which formed the whole creation, Which rests on every generation.

Of Paradise the only token Just left us, 'mid our treasures broken, Which never can from us be riven, Sure earnest of the joys of Heaven.

And which, when earth shall pa.s.s away, Shall be our rest on the last day, When tongues shall fail and knowledge cease, And throbbing hearts be all at peace: When faith is sight, and hope is sure, That which alone shall still endure Of earthly joys in heaven above, 'Tis that best gift, eternal Love!'

'What have you there?' said Mr. Mohun, who had come towards them while Claude was reading the lines. Taking the paper from Claude's hand, he read it to himself, and then saying, 'Tolerable, Lily; there are some things to alter, but you may easily make it pa.s.sable,' he went on to his own place, leaving Lilias triumphant.

'Well, Claude, you see I have the great Baron on my side.'

'I am of the Baron's opinion,' said Claude, 'the only wonder is that you doubted it.'

'You seemed to say that love was good for nothing.'

'I said nothing but that Lily has a rhyme.'

'And saying that I was silly, was equivalent to saying that love was nothing,' said Lily.

'O Lily, I hope not,' said Claude, with a comical air.

'Well, I know I often am foolish, but not in this,' said Lily; 'I do say that mere duty is not lovable.'

'Say it if you will then,' said Claude, yawning, 'only let me finish this sermon.'

Lily set herself to reconsider some of her lines: but presently Emily left the room, Claude looked up, and Lily exclaimed, 'Now, Claude, let us make a trial of it.'

'Well,' said Claude, yawning again, and looking resigned.

'Think how Eleanor went on telling us of duty, duty, duty--never making allowances--never relaxing her stiff rules about trifles-- never unbending from her duenna-like dignity--never showing one spark of enthusiasm--making great sacrifices, but only because she thought them her duty--because it was right--good for herself--only a higher kind of selfishness--not because her feeling prompted her.'

'Certainly, feeling does not usually prompt people to give up their lovers for the sake of their brothers and sisters.'

'She did it because it was her duty,' said Lily, 'quite as if she did not care.'

'I wonder whether Frank thought so,' said Claude.

'At any rate you will confess that Emily is a much more engaging person,' said Lily.

'Certainly, I had rather talk nonsense to her,' said Claude.