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Transcript for Daphne and Other Works
Rachel Laue ( Transcriber )
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Subjects / Keywords:
Women Pioneers -- Jacksonville (Fla.)
Description and Travel -- Florida
Spatial Coverage:
North America -- United States -- Florida -- Duval -- Jacksonville


This lovely manuscript contains a handwritten novel of romance and deception set against the background of Jacksonville in the early 1900s. Nothing is known of the author. By her spelling and choice of words she was clearly American, and acquainted with Florida, though she inevitably chose to make her heroines English. The plot traces the travails of Eleanor Barton as she seeks to unravel a family mystery and reunite with the love of her life. The backdrop for the story includes the Great Freeze and the Great Fire of Jacksonville (misdated, as the author admits, for the convenience of the plot). The manuscript is highlighted throughout with original floral designs, similar to that shown on the title page, and contains several other stories, "The Bays Double," "A Double Event," and "The Winning Woman." The material in "Daphné" reveals a general first-hand knowledge of Florida, such as might be obtained on a visit, but information on the Freeze and the Fire seems to rely on newspaper or gazetteer accounts for specifics. Much of the action takes place at the imaginary plantation of Seville.

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P.K. Yonge Library of Florida History, UF
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University of Florida
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1 Daphne Or Wits and Wooing Author U nkn own T ranscription by Rachel Laue (Graduate Research Assistant, History, University of Florida, Fall 2020) Frontispiece The Daphne Bush All about the daphne bush the happy fairies went, And spread abroad their silken hair to catch its magic scent; They changed little silver tunes, they danced the whole day long, The rosy bush was ringed around with chains of coloured song, They danced, they sang, they flung about their tiny fairy names, Till swiftly over all the sky there ran the sunset flames; Then high into the glowing air they leapt with joyful shout, And with ruddy shreds of mist they wrapped themselves about. Into my quiet garden close they swiftly dropped again (The music of their merriment tinkled like falling rain); Laughing they swayed, while from their hair they shook the warm perfume, Till all the place seemed filled with clouds of drifting daphne bloom. R.F. Contents Chapter Page 1. Eleanor meets Richard out hunting 00 5 2. Death of Mrs. Barton 0 14 3. Eleanor leaves Castleton 0 26 4. The Proctors at Sevill a 0 37 5. Eleanor crosses the Atlantic 0 46 6. Eleanor visits the Country Club 0 56 7. Eleanor visits the Proctors at S evilla 0 64 8. Mr. Procter visits the Mal colms and A t twells 0 78 9. Ida confides in Eleanor 0 84 10. The Mal colms v isit S evilla in the Ro deric 0 91 11. Florida ponies as useful as English hunters 108 12. The Picnic 114 13. Eleanor visits the A ttwells 129 14. The big freeze 144 15. Eleanor visits Sp arks at Philadelphia 153 16. Edmund and Mr. Proctor 164


2 17. The big fire 174 18. Eleanor visits the Atkinsons 183 19. Eleanor and Edmund go north 198 20. Eleanor as Lady Bountiful 206 21. Eleanor and Richard 223 22. The two weddings 240 23. Eleanor and Richard go out hunting 252 Epilogue I h ave taken a liberty with the date of the big fire. I apologize to the fire for setting it alight some years before it was ready. Chapter I Eleanor meets Richard out hunting A southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaimed to those interested that it was a perfect hunting morning, and the Daleshire hounds were awaiting only the arrival of their M.F.H. Mr. Leesborough to be thrown into a well known and sure fo x finding covert [sic] not far away. Amongs t the now numerous field was a young lady twenty three years of age, mounted on a magnificent bay, standing nearly sixteen hands. The lady was Eleanor Barton, the only child, and heiress, after her mother, to the large estates of Castleton Priory. She lived alone with her mother, her father having been dead for some years. Eleanor was tall with dark blue eyes of the Irish type, dark brown hair, strikingly regular features, beautifully shaped hands, neck and bust: had an intellectual face, and attracted attention wherever she went . A girl who would be a desirable wife for either peer or connoisseur even without a fortune, but so far no one had made the slightest impression on her hea rt, though several young men (egged on by their mothers) had unsuccessfully tried. The principal rea son probably being that she was entirely absorbed in the companionship and care of her mother. A groom on a nearly equally good animal at a respectful distance, and each person passing touched their hats and said good morning, which was returned with a kin d word and a pleasant smile. After a short wait the M.F.H. accompanied by a friend of his, came cantering up, dismounted, and swung themselves into the saddles of two useful looking hunters. The friend was Richard Proctor, a young man twenty four years ol d. He was broad shouldered, with a well bronzed complexion, wavy brown hair, and brown eyes, with [a] small moustache and pleasant frank face. gee [sic] , you well if we are luck y enough to have a chase see you out this fine day. We ought to have a fair bit of sport, and Sir Galahad looks as fit as a you to Mr. Richard Proctor , the son of Leonard Proctor. He is staying


3 not deep enough for me to go out often, but Leesborough was dining with my father the other evening, and invited me eeling, as she is not very strong He i s my favorite hunter. Many a good r un we have had together, and he is as keen as I am when we are once away. I hope that we shall show you some sport , and the country is a fair one. Mr. Leesborough said that you lived principally out of England. In what part of the and indeed I ought to be there at this season of the year, but my father wanted me to come and this is my last opportunity in the hunting field as I return almost immediately. It is very curious Miss Barton, but I seem to know your face so well. I am certain I have never se en you before, There is [the] fox and Sir Galahad is getting impatient, so we had better be try and follow your line. Mr. Leesbor ough says that this horse is a clever fencer, and I shall try my best to keep short check, and that horse of your is simply splendid. Nothing in the w orld can equal a day like galoped [sic] on. A little later she went at a nasty look place which Sir Galahad easily cleared, but He kept hold of the reins, but found a remount seeing that his horse was dead lame, h aving badly sprained his off fetlock joint . He dismounted and foun d a gate leading into a lane, and decided on following in the direction that the hounds had gone. He soon came to a main road, and seeing a roadside Inn, called the ostler, and having seen him give the horse a rubdown and a feed, ordered some bread and che ese and beer for himself; also enquiring the way and distance to Holcombe. easy to find. r to bring my He started. Heard horses at a jog trot behind him, and on looking round saw Miss Barton followed by her groom, who soon came up to him. but we went on and killed, and as I never stay late am now homeward bound. What do you intend [on] walk. I propose you get on to my grooms [sic] horse. He will lead yours to Castleton. From there


4 I can send you home, and you can tell Mr. Leesborough to leave his horse in our care for a few palm. The best of horses blu nder sometimes. Even Sir Galahad gave me a spill one day, though perhaps sense of animals. and Richard saw before him a park with noble trees and deer, and after a trot of some half a mile on the greenest and softest of sward, found himself gazing at a fine old house, partly ivy clad. It was a house that had had many alterations made to it. Took up three sides of a square, the fourth being a handsome grille in stone work with great iron and glass gates in the centre. The whole Court had been covered with glass, and you drove into a winter garden filled with plants and flowers: the sides being as high as the ground floor while the centre rising much higher, was crowned by a dome, covered insi de with [ xxx? ] and roses, the effect being very fine. They dismounted outside the Court, Eleanor leading the way through it into a something to drink and smok e, which you are privileged to do here, and if you will excuse me for a few minutes I will go and see my mother, change my things, then we will have some lunch, after which I will send you home in the dogcart. I will not be long, and meantime here is the m We will leave Richard reading the paper and go upstairs with Eleanor. usual, went splendidly. How are you feeling to day[sic]? Mrs. Barton was a charming middle aged lady who I cannot describe better than by saying that she was an elderly edition of Eleanor herself, who resembled her so much that she might have been take for a younger siste r. She was lying on one of the large old fashioned sofas surrounded with pretty cushions in an upstairs boudoir which she preferred to one of the downstairs rooms. Partly on account of the magnificent view of park, terraces, lake, and finely timbered count ry beyond, also perhaps on account of its seclusion. She was a model chatelaine giving from her sofa the necessary orders which were faithfully carried out, and she, like Eleanor, was adored by her whole household. She was not strong, suffering from heart trouble, therefore ordered to keep quiet as much as possible. the morning news. She re stay fo r I have brought back with me a gentleman, a friend of Mr. Leesborough whose horse lent


5 by him, went dead lame, and I have promised him some lunch, and to send him to Holcombe in [sic] pleasing young fellow. Come down and see him mother. I think that you wo uld like him. descended the staircase. Chapter II Death of Mrs. Barton assistance; you would Mrs. Barton kept looking at Richard and then at Eleanor to whom she suddenly held out her h and, which Eleanor took, feeling her mother clasping it convulsively. She seemed to wish to rise up from her chair, but instead sank back with a long drawn sigh, and immediately became unconscious. Richard got up and rang the bell violently while Eleanor t ried vainly to support her In a minute or two both the housekeeper and maid came in, and betwee n them they took wish to intrude, but had you not better send for a doctor, I do not like [how] Mrs. Barton looks at Richard finding himself left alone some time after and evidently forgotten, at last rang the bell and asked for news. We are expecting the doctor any minute. If you will come into the dining room I will get you some lunch, or perhaps you would rather have a sandwhich [sic] and a glass of sherry in peace, me have a dogcart as arranged and start home without bothering her. You will make my


6 The lunch was brought in, the footman saying et sir; we are getting is the worst possible. Mrs. Barton has passed away. It is solicitor to come at once, and I hope that Mrs. Snowden will accompany him. In fact, I am sure The old housekeeper who had been for years with the family on hearing that all was over . My poor dear mistress is past all help. Come with e room. In a short time the tolling of the church bell caused many enquiries to be made as to who was dead, and great was the sorrow on hearing the sad news, for Mrs. Barton was not only respected but loved. That same evening both Mr. and Mrs. Snowden arrived. Mr. Snowden was a tall man, but so well proportioned that he did not look his height. He had iron grey hair, what was left of it; short greyish whiskers, no mustache, rather large hands, a fine nose, and pink cheeks. There was a stern look about h is mouth, offset by a kindly twinkle in his eyes. A man who could be very decided, but whose heart, delighting in friendliness, was as large as his brilliant intellect. Mrs. Snowden was a charming middle aged woman; not good looking if you took each feat ure, one of those women who improve in looks as the years pass over their heads. You could trace in her eyes and mouth a kindly disposition, and her quiet repose of manner showed that for many years she must have lived a happy contented life. She had never had any children and had given all her affection to Eleanor, whom she regarded as nearly as possible in the light of her own. called her) sympathetic protecting arms, was able to give full sway to her intense grief. After she had somewhat calmed down Mr. Snowden said en I mentioned Mr. slight hesitation to come down willingly. I noticed that she looked at him very fixedly but that was all that was unusual. She was quite herself when she spoke to him and he answered her . dogcart got r eady for him as I had arranged to do. When my dear mother was taken ill, he was


7 I am going to look through her papers and see if there is anything which bears on her private life That afternoon he said to his wife some interesting papers, but I must think Mr. Snowden had with difficulty persuaded Eleanor to come down to lunch and told the manservant to wait at table. The days went slowly by. Mr. Snowden havi ng other business to attend to, came and went, until at length the day of the funeral arrived. There were no relations, but on the other hand both rich and poor for miles round or sent their [xxx?] to do honour to her who had lived so long in their midst. After the ceremony was over Mr. Snowden went up to Richard Proctor who was standing house and have some lunch before returning home. You have plenty of time Mr. Proctor if you on me in town. Here is my address (giving him a card) I am always at home after 8:30 PM. After everyone had left, Mr. Snowden sought out Eleanor who was upstairs with his wife, out estates, besides fifty thousand pounds invested in different securities and a considerable sum of ready cash in the Bank. There are annuities a nd gifts to certain of the old servants, and I will send those who are named into the library and let them know. Everything is to be kept up as before and the property is entailed on you and your heirs. Two thousand pounds have been left for a purpose in w hich your mother was much interested in, and for which I am trustee. Five hundred pounds is left to the local hospital, and except a legacy left to myself of a thousand pounds, and a choice of some jewelry to Betty which you two are to decide on, everythin g else is your absolutely to do what you like with; though as your mother says in her will with you for a bit, but I will come myself for a few hours whenever I can spare the time. You must trust me dear, that whatever I do will be in your best interests. Someday let us hope that you will find someone worthy to help you manage this large proper ty, and be a companion for yourself. You are young, and time mercifully


8 member that this is a loss which we all A few weeks passed away. Betty, wanted at home had sent her sister to take her place, but both found that Eleanor was hard to rouse. She wandered about the house without taking an interest in anything and Mr. Snowden decided that a p lan he had been turning over in his mind would have to be carried out. A day or two after the funeral he had received a visit from Richard, and as he had told him that his father was away , he invited him to come to dine out with him the following evening , just a quiet dinner for two. After the host and guest had settled down to a bottle of 1870 port and it. und, a most trustworthy capable young chap working for me as foreman. In fact I should not have been in England now if of mine was writing about them not long ago. Mr. Proctor I am going to place myself entirely in your hands, and you may take it as a great compliment, as to a project that I have for Miss Barton who I think will shortly be the better for a entire change of sc ene and people. I want to send her on a visit to the Ma lcolms, who no doubt you well know, and I have already written to them proposing her visit. To tell you frankly, you are my only stumbling block. I should not like it to be known how well off she is. Y ou know yourself what the result would be. She would be plagued to go into all sorts of money making schemes. She would be persuaded to buy orange groves all over the State, and every pre co cious young Englishman for fifty miles round would be asking her to advance money on his grove, besides trying to marry her. Of the latter I am not afraid, she is not one to give herself away to the first comer. I am going to propose to her that she admits to s ome four hundred a year: enough to be independent and even that will attract the flea bagging round. The following letter from her guardian.


9 Have pity on a lonely old man and te ll Betty that I cannot get along any longer without her. I am nearly ruined with frivolous offences: drinks at the Club, cabs, theatres, concerts, dinners and I know not what. Pack up and come with her, and leave your grand mansion to take care of itself. Besides, I want you. I am going to suggest something to you, too long to write, so save me the trouble. Only one more day of jollification, and tonight I am going to make it a regular latch key affair. Have already ordered the supper and sent the flowers. Expect you both tomorrow. The fatted calf is killed. Your affectionate old guardian, James Snowden h me. He would be so disappointed you did not, and he has been very good in letting me stay so often. He is never contented when I Chapter III Eleanor l eav e s Castleton The day following, Eleanor left her big house in its solitude, taking with her hampers of fruit and flowers and also a quiet brougham, as Mr. Snowden kept a carriage. It was with a curiously shy feeling that she drove through the crowded s treets and congested traffic, so different from the quiet park to which she had kept for the last few weeks. It seemed to her that everyone must know that it was the first time that she had been into the moving world since her mothers [sic] death, showing how much she had taken it to heart, and with what morbid feelings she had been overtaken. She asked herself how it was that everyone was going about as if nothing had happened, knowing all the time how foolish such ideas were; still she sank back in the carriage as if she did not wish to be seen. Indeed she had seen nobody since the funeral. Mrs. Snowden and her sister having received any visitors who had come on visits of condolence. This feeling left her to some extent as she arrived at the Snowden ho use, where the servants who had been there for years met her with sympathetic faces, for with them, as at home, she had always had a kind word, and a pleasant smile. A thrill of loneliness came over her however, as she remembered that when she came there last , her mother had been with her, and that now there were none of those little acts of care to do for her, in which she had always so much delighted. Mrs. Snowden ,with that tact which a true woman possesses, instead of putting her into the best bedroo m which her mother had always had, gave her the room she was used to, knowing that she would feel more at home. It was a fine old house, once in the most fashionable part of town, and the Snowdens had Heavy mahogany in the dining room and rosewood in the drawing room, all kept beautifully polished. Everything was soli d and ponderous, from the staid old butler to the silver, and it all


10 Not that there was not an air of brightness about it. The drawing room curtains were of the richest chintz in a bea utifully designed pattern, with that gloss on it which makes it look so handsome. There were plants and flowers in profusion, in pots and vases, mostly from Castleton, and in the centre of the carpetless back drawing room stood a fine toned grand piano, fo r though Mrs. Snowden played but little herself, both she and her husband were passionately fond of it and often had in some good performer who was ready to give them pleasure. After dinner and when they had returned to the drawing room Mr. Snowden said: Eleanor for my little surprise. I have written to some old friends of mine, the Malcolms who live until I have finished. I have come to the conclusion th at an entire change of scene, climate and people would do you more good than any change you could get at only a few hours from home. To use a military expression, I want to cut you loose from your base. You will see a different life from that we lead here, and you will meet a number of well bred English ladies and gentlemen. town where half the population is coloured, there would always be the risk of rough c ustomers. Besides, being with the Malcolms will give you the necessary introductions to the people there who you will find very hospitable. You could not stay there knowing no one. The trip across the big pond is nothing in these days of comfort in big ste amers, very different from the old days. There are also other considerations to be thought of. One is that you must not refuse to go into society. Everyone and everything will be new to you. I know that it would not seem or be right now, but by the time you have crossed the Atlantic you will have met strangers on board and be seeing things under brighter skies. The next point is the most important. I strongly advise you to let it be thought that you have about four hundred a year, and no more, and so fa thought of it too and have stopped his mouth by a solemn promise to say nothing. You can stay out there until you are tired of it, and I will then arrange for you a trip through the States and Canada before returning home. I am sure that you will return feeling better in every way from a contact with the world and its ways. By the way, I had Richard Proctor to dine with me one evening, and was very pleased with his straightforward manner. He asked to be remembered to you and also to thank you for hospitality to self and horse, which Mr. Leesborough had written to say was quit e sound again. aptains [sic] charge on board; and if little children of five or six can cross alone with only their name and address sewn on to their clothes, a young lady of twenty three can well do it, and without a label. Only you must look after yourself, you must no t take a maid, that would never do on four hundred a year; besides such a swell female would utterly disturb the domestic economy of the Malcolms household, for their ways, though comfortable, are very different from ours, and the mistress has to see herse lf to many things being done that we only order: and poor old Catherine would be like a fish out of water out there and very likely be seasick all the way over.


11 from getting too fat. Some of the horses had better be sold, or they will eat t heir heads off. Any you wish to keep can be turned out to grass later. Perhaps Mr. Leesborough would like one or , you must look after the shooting. While Aunty Betty is seeing to the interior, you can have a shot at the bunnies and other game. I will see Blackburn and tell him to a year you must take swift fin gers to become stiff for want of use. Go at once and please me by playing some of my Eleanor did so, only stopping when a sudden snore told her that her guardian was fast asleep. pleasure and James too, at first, by your There was nothing to do now but wait until a reply came from the Malcolms, a favorable one coming a few days later. Eleanor spending the time quietly with her old friends, feeling better already for the change. She then returned home with Mrs. Snowden to arrange things. Mr. Snowden joining them when he could get away. At length all was ready; but it was only when the time came to leave the beautiful place and say goodbye for an indefinite time to the house in which she had spent so many happy years that she thoroughly realized all that she was about to do. She took a last walk with her dogs along her favorite paths: gave Sir Galahad a last c and after saying a sorrowful farewell to some of the old retainers, entered the carriage and drove off, taking one last look through the window at the familiar old place. Mrs. Snowden leaving her al one to give her mind time to return to its usual repose. A day or two after her return to London, she started for New York. the brougham, and come to you every mornin g for orders. It is such a pleasure to me to do it that


12 to Liverpool with you. I have not had a holiday for weeks, Betty and you have watched me so As the train went through one of the most beautiful parts of the country, Eleanor, looking , Eleanor. All the same , every country has a charm of its own, and you will find some beauty spot, some view of river, or foliage that we have not here which will At Liverpool Eleanor was put into the C aptains [sic]special charge, after which Mr. Snowden took a look round the steamer and then said goodbye. As he was going down the gang going to Jacksonville to stay with the Malcolms for a change, having lately lost her mother. Make her acquaintance and look after her on board. Also, if there is an ything you can do for her having helped me some time ago, and I will place myself unres Chapter IV The Proctors at Sevilla Florida had got ov er its summer heat. Those inhabitants who had not been able to go north were revelling in its delightful winter, and had recovered from the trying September when the body has become exhausted with the long continued heat. Not that there are not countries w here the temperature rises much higher, but there is an enervating atmosphere which is felt by those not born there. The little seaside places were now empty. Those with only small purses, or whose business would not let them go far away had been content to patronize them, while the more fortunate well to do had gone, either up north or somewhere into the mountain where they were probably not half as comfortable as they were at home, but had the change of food, scene, and society which was what they neede d. Hotels were filling up, and visitors from the north were rapidly becoming more frequent. Amongst the new arrivals at Sevilla, essentially an English colony near Jacksonville, was Mr. Leonard Proctor who had arrived there the evening before. you slept well, and found everything that you wanted, said Richard to his father me to be once again with you her after breakfast. Attwell has got it into capital order during my absence and must have kept the


13 o be away so frequently during the latter part of your stay at home but it could not have been well avoided. I never like to refuse invitations as I hope that you will rest a bit and take things easily. You were working all the time I was in England when you were not visiting ds a He felt a triumph in thinking of the many statues that had gone to adorn the mansions of the rich, and his fame was very dear to his soul. To see the notices of his work in the papers always with some flattering remarks was incense to him. He was a man who when he travelled, felt that everyone ought to know that he was the celebrated Leonard Proctor, and he ready to bow the knee to him, as much as he, in truth, did to his patrons. There were two things in life that he lov ed besides himself his work and his son. Of him he was intensely proud, for he saw with clear eye, that he was a man to be respected in all ways, and in his heart he knew that he did not come up to that standard. He ought to have been rich, but had been made so much of by those who patronized him that it had led him into extravagant ways, and now he found himself harassed with debts which at present it was not in his power to pay. He had come this time to Florida in hope of realizing a large sum by the sale of his grove, and was anxious to see whether it had improved as much as he hoped for since his last visit. you were last here, father, and expect a heavy crop. Indeed, there is one, but as you know the prices are not up to much. Do you feel up to walking, or will you have the buggy. Better still, ave finished breakfast, before it gets too warm. grove, and the leaves have all a dark healthy colour. You have not spared the fertilizer, and had some good rain whole place as e turning over three thousand to you. Altogether it will leave me a large profit on the original investment, and to tell you the truth my boy I am somewhat in debt and shall be glad of some of the capital. These trees have been very carefully pruned Richar woods, as a protection from the wind. here, an You must have worked yourself and the horses hard.


14 k mules. They seem to is finished, they have their corn, and are then turned out into the yard whe re they can eat all the reminds me of someone. I cannot think who at this minute. As he said this, they turned into the sitting room in which was the statue of Daphne he had sent to his son. His eyes rested on it and he felt an uneasy sensation creep over him as he imm coincidence or what. I will have another talk with the man this afternoon. I might propose to make a statue of him. I want some work to do while I am here, and if Richa rd can spare him I should like to make a companion statue to Daphne, with him as model, which I will present you it will amuse you to do so; but I thought that you came here to rest, that man of yo im if he As soon as the necessary arrangements had been made and the artist was ready for him, the sittings began and Mr. Proctor plied him with questions, but could learn nothing more; but the more he knew the man the more he was impressed with his good qualities. He was widely read; kept up with the politics of the day, naturally more especially of the United States politics, and it was easy to see that being endowed with fine natural gifts and a kind ly disposition, he had made the most of the opportunities he had had given him. He had a natural talent for drawing and watercolours, with which amusements he spent much of his spare time. He was now working on


15 the grove, not so much for the pay, but so as to learn as much as he could, before perhaps starting one for himself. Mr. Proctor worked hard with extraordinary quickness and decision, and the nearer the statue got to completion, the more noticeable was the likeness between it and the Daphne: also the more uneasy in his mind became the artist. The more intimate he became with his model, the more impressed was he with him, so much so that he began to look forward to his days work with much pleasure. Had somehow come to change the formal Attwell into Edmund: and because of his esteem[?], combined with the resemblance and som e inner promptings for which he could not account, determined to interview the old Attwell couple and try and find out from them who they were. t think that I am like either of them , he replied. I must have gone back to a former generation. I think that they have some old daguerreotypes at home somewhere which might prove the missing link, but I have never taken interest in such things myself. I w ill take I do not want him with me, he said to himself. I want to ask them some questions that I had rather he did not hear. Chapter V Eleanor c rosses the Atlantic Eleanor, who was about to start her first trip across the Atlantic, found that she had a large stateroom to herself, and that the Captain had told the head stewardess to look after her personally. As happens at times the winter passage was a very fine one, the ocean being on its best behavior. Twice a day, with Mr. Marshall, a man of some forty years of age, to whom she too k a long constitutional round and round the deck, soon finding her sea legs. Under his guidance she visited the steerage where several of the sickly female passengers had to thank her for fruits and dainties which she had brought from home. One day when Eleanor so many years h ave passed away of a certain transaction which I took part in, and where a young lady about your age was concerned. You are so like her that if it was not for the interval of time I eanor. (for something to say.) in her. She was a beautiful charming girl, and I somehow never forgot her, and there were reasons which I cannot explain which brought her to my recollection when I saw you here the


16 and have daughter s of my own. I am an agent for the firm of Johnson and Cope. I always cross steerage so as to save money for their education, and every little helps. I have never heard of the e steerage is not very attractive, yet ten days is soon passed away, Though she did not care to do so, yet remembering her guardian s e [sic] , and being very unselfish, Eleanor, persuaded by the Captain, played at the usual concert, where she was one of the principal successes of the evening. She was too feeling much better. The change from the dreariness and solitude of the big house where everything reminded her of her loss to the tonic of the strong sea air, was bringing back the beautiful flush to her cheeks which had been forgetting together with the vitality of youth, had helped her to shake off the morbid state into which he had got in her own home: every little thing, even the decorously dis mal look of the servants when she saw them, bringing it all to her mind. Sitting next to her at the table was a Mrs. Atkinson who Eleanor found very friendly. She and her husband had been visiting relatives in England and were now on their way to Sevilla where they owned a house and where they always spent the winter. They naturally knew the Malcolms and Proctors, already knew Mr. Marshall, and for Richard Proctor had nothing but praise. , said Mrs. Atkinson one day, and you must come and pay us a visit at Sevilla. We are quiet folk and you will find that our house is a Liberty Hall where during the winter we are permanent picknickers, for we only have nigger help, and not always that, but we will give you a One day towards the end of the voyage as Eleanor was taking her daily exercise with Mr. have ever travelled alone, or had to look after things for myself and without your kind solicitude which has touched me deeply and will be as much appreciated by my guardian and his wife, who are like parents to me. I should have been s Barton when I first met you and tried to do what little I could, it was to show my gratitude to Mr. Snowden who helped me out of a legal trouble which I had unwittingly got into; but lately it has been as much for yourself as for him. When you get to Jac ksonville command me in every way you want, I am often there, know everyone and we are certain to meet. This is the last night on board and tomorrow morning you will be surprised to see the mass of humanity on deck that has hidden itself below. The view of the Bay as they approached New York after seeing nothing but water for so many days gave Eleanor the same pleasure that it does to all passengers, especially those crossing for the first time, and she was eager to see that land which she had heard so mu ch about. The appearance of the skyscrapers which were beginning to show their head above the skyline even in those days, caused her astonishment.


17 some American friends of his, the Chilhams, who after she had introduced the Atkinsons and Mr. Marshall and bidden them a cordial farewell, took her home with them, and after keeping her for a couple of days and showing her all the principal sights of the city, saw her, after loading her with bon bons and books into the train for Jacksonville, accompanied by the Atkinsons and Mr. Marshall who had, all three, at the last minute , decided to go at the same time. The journey interested her greatly. The huge ferry boats crossing the Hudson: the size of the Pullmans and their striking arrangements: the line in places running through the streets, the absence of platforms at the stati ons; the number of wooden houses built after much the same design with its little verandah in front: all so different from England, and especially the variety of scenery she saw. Now and then during the night , not being able to sleep in her unaccustomed surroundings, she would look out of the window and notice the miles of cypress swamps and desolate long leafed piney woods through which the passed: then as the train got farther south, the novel sight of the p almettos, showing the gradual change of climate, until at length the train rumbled amid much bell clanging from the locomotion into the station at Jacksonville. A gentleman on the lookout for someone, saw the Atkinsons and was introduced by them to Eleanor . time. Mr. Snowden has written such a nice letter about you that we have all been looking forward to making your acquaintance, and I hope that you will soon feel qu with his kind face and way of speaking) I have heard such pleasant things about yourself and your family from Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson and Mr. Marsha ll who came across the Atlantic in the see her the first chance I have. Remember your promise to come and see me. though it is rather soon to be going out after my dear mo thers [sic] death, yet my guardian you shall be with limitations. Anyhow we are only one large family here, and I might also add that the joys and sorrows of one are nearly the joys and sorrows of all. You will therefore be Eleanor was not at all impressed with her first view of Jacksonville as s he drove from the station. The street was unpaved and the squalid buildings on either side gave a depressing feeling. As they turned however to the better part of the town, the little one story shanties and dissipated looking saloons disappeared, and an en tirely different class of buildings were seen by the time the carriage pulled up at the Malcolm house. Eleanor was greeted at the door by Mrs. Malcolm, a robust woman about forty years of age, with a strongish [sic] voice, yet pleasant features. Very pro ud of her family and her possessions. upstairs and tell Mary to come an d help you with the luggage. We use this entrance hall as an overflow sitting room Miss Barton. To the left is the dining room and the room on the right is our


18 living room, but you will see all that later. Let me show you the way. I have given you our best bedroom, and have tried to see that you have everything necessary. Things are not exactly the same scale that they are in the old country, but I have never spared expense in trying to have comfort, and that the cheapest thing does not always bring. Luckil y my husband has some good appointments which enables me to do it. Ah! Here are your things. You will I am sure like a wash, (Jane bring Miss Barton some hot water.) and a change after the dusty train before you come down, and a little quiet rest. I will s end you up a cup of tea, and expect you when I see you. You can easily find your way to the sitting room and Jane will unstrap your trunks and do with that the good lady talked herself out of the room. est, feeling much refreshed, she descended and was made acquainted with the rest of the family, consisting of two sons, Ted and Andrew, aged seventeen and sixteen respectively, and a nice looking girl of nineteen called Ida. They showed her photographs o f the town and river and by adroit questioning she soon found out how far it was to Sevilla and the Proctor Place, thinking of Richard who she would some day meet again. Mrs. Malcolm, after lunch, showed her all over the house which was quite comfortable ; but she was surprised at the small amount of room given over to the servants and the kitchen department, after being used to the numerous and large rooms in England, and she wondered what old Catherine would have done or they with her in such small quar ters. Chapter VI Eleanor visits the Country Clu b Eleanor soon settled down to her new phase of life. Several days passed quietly away giving her an opportunity of resting and getting over the fatigues of the journey, and getting more intimately acquaint ed with the Malcolms who were very kind to her, even the boys not thinking her in the way, a nd though she never had been used to boys, she listened to their stories and took an interest in their doings. Eleanor found, [that struck out by author] as Mr. Sno wden had said, that she was very comfortable: that somewhere between Mrs. Malcolm, Ida and Jane, the latter of whom [who struck out by the author] was soon quite devoted to her, she wanted for nothing. She found the table excellent. [She] Was introduced to oyster stew, oyster fry, sweet potatoes, had fish and grape fruit [sic], finding them all good. The dishes were perhaps of a simpler kind than she had had at home, but she was easily contented and there was always a pleasant friendly conversation going on which helped her to forget her own late loss. ( as she had begun to call her) will you come to the Country Club with us this afternoon ? The principal amusement is golf, and you will meet some of your c ountrymen and women, amongst them probably the Atkinsons, possibly too Richard Proctor, though he is too busy to come often, and we finish up with a cup of you The democratic way of going about in the street cars , to her, who had always had a carriage at her disposal, amused her greatly, but she soon became accustomed to such conditions , and no one would have suspected by her manner that she was living in a totally different style to which she had been accustomed. Richard Proctor, somewhat to her disappointment did not put in an appearance at the Club that afternoon, but amongst the othe r people that she met besides the


19 Atkinsons was a Mr. and Mrs. Pratt. He, a land agent doing a thriving business in Florida land , was a typical Englishman, sturdily built, hair beginning to show signs of gr e y, and of a slow careful conversation. His wif e was of rather a generous scale and reminded one of the story of the stout woman ided; a no meaning a no. To try and counteract the unfortunate embonpoint to which Mrs. Pratt was inclined, they had tried so many ways of feeding that they can become very faddy. For a few weeks, their breakfast would consist of only a cup of coffee foll owed by pineapple. For another period of time coffee would be vigorously tabooed, and the great virtues of postum [sic] brought to your notice, neither [xxx?] in showing any diminution of avoirdupois, but with all their fads they were a kind hearted couple, and though they kept themselves much to themselves were genuinely respected and made welcome whenever they did go out. your visit to England, that it fully repays one studying them. fairly But they might be doing much better. The y never save up for a rainy day. What money they make on their orange groves, they spend in gadding about, with the result that a good many of the groves are heavily mortgaged. Picnics and dances seem to be their one that there are some fine groves near here. I hope to see one some day. To you it is a common sight, but to an entire stranger who has only seen the few trees in town, or in and English greenhouse, it is a novelty. The look of an orange grove is quite unkno about talking of prices or people, but as you are only a bird of passage and mot mixed up with any of the colony here, I will gi ve you, if you will not repeat it, an idea of their value. Mr. Proctor who has a magnificent grove at Sevilla,, has just now, through my agency, an offer of Mr. Proctor, as perhaps you already know is the well known sculptor, and his son Richard has been most successfully managing the prove for some years. He is hard working steady going young man, and is one of the Englishmen here for whom I have the greatest m one day in England. (and she was on the enough to take you with us if you care to come. It is rather a long way, and the road is not particularly good, so that we shall have to quite well. I have been looking at you, quite


20 Eleanor. over your fatigue? You look all [sic] right. And how are you Mr. Pratt. I hope that things are eased to be once more at the old stand and meet old friends. It was extra pleasant on board this time crossing over, Miss Barton, Mr. getting round the course, and have been lucky today. Mrs. Musg rove let me introduce you to Miss ociety said Mrs. Musgrove, and perhaps play for us later on. Mrs. Malcolm says that you play beautifully. O, Will, Will, (calling her husband) What are you doing? I see. Drinking a whiskey and soda. Give me your glass. No not to drink. There is Mr. Marshal l. Go and tell him that I want to see him. How are you Mr. Marshall? Have a cup O you know one another, as she saw Eleanor holding out her ha [sic] came over in the same ship. I am glad to see Miss Barton that you but if it pleases them I should let them keep on trying said Mrs. Malcolm. I see that my husband has finished his game. I hope that you have enjoyed our little afternoon Chapter VII Eleanor visits the Proctors at Sevilla


21 if the day is fine Mrs. Pratt and himself are going to drive to the Proctors and offering to take me with them. Will you please to order a ca rriage for one to take me as far as the ferry where I am to nued Eleanor, for I shall be under . You will be in safe hands with that steady going couple, and you will see one of the finest and best looked after groves in these parts. Remember me to Mr. Proctor and highly of him.) They had a pleasant drive along the dirt road, which had not yet attained to the dignity of Macadam, but was kept in order by the people, each contributing so many days work in its value: the work consisting of digging or ploughing up the sandy dirt at the sides and throwing it into the centre [sic]. After crossing the river on the steam ferry, the way led past detach ed houses of small size, each with its verandah and little garden shaded by umbrella trees, in which the flowers or vegetables struggled hard to keep alive and grow in the sandy soil: it then went through the piney woods with here and there a pretty glimps e of the river, reminding Eleanor of Mrs. Pratt chattered away the whole distance, telling her about the ways of Florida life, and of her latest fad, which turned out to be the eating of nuts for the midday meal, they having taken the place of bananas. The approach to Sevilla which was on the St. Johns was quite pretty, there being a line of nice houses built in the colonial style, some distance apart, near a row of fine old oaks, unde r the shade of which the road ran between them and the river, across which there was a view of two miles. liberty of bring ing a friend of ours with us, Miss Barton, who is staying with the Malcolms for a short time. She has lately aid the artist as he helped her down out of the carriage. [sic] Taking a look at him, Eleanor saw a man about sixty years old, grey hair , dark brown eyes, clean shaven, slightly stooping with muscular hands. They entered a fairly spacious sitting room, comfortably furnished, running through the depth of the house, the only difference from a town house being that the walls were of varnished wood. As Look Miss Barton, in that semi circular Eleanor looked. Her look grew into wonder and astonishment as sh e saw a most beautifully finished statue in the purest white marble, which might have been her mother in her


22 younger days so much did it resemble her. As she look ed , she sank into the nearest chair and for a short time was incapable of speech. Mrs. Pratt possession A sudden vertigo beautiful? continued Mrs. Pratt. It seems such a pity not to have it in had a very fine model Mr. Proctor. It looks as if it might have been a labour [sic] remember about tha t particular model. As she said this she saw him turn pale. His eyes too turn ed towards Eleanor, as if trying before? My God! She too is like Daphne. What can be happening? A little time ago it was Attwell, and now her. It is a coinciden is he who under my As regards his personal appe arance, she saw a man in an old dirty working [xxx?] , both a fine face and a good voice, though it had a pronounced American accent, which was natural, and which she had noticed even in some of the English people who had been away from some years. She had heard Mr. Proctor speak highly of him so she prolonged the conversation by ame out to Florida soon after I was . Miss Barton. I noticed it myself and was so struck by it that I am making a


23 what a resemblance there was to yoursel better be going on Eleanor started to go, but suddenly turned round and held out her hand, saying, with a statue will be As they moved away Attwell said El your foreman the original of the statue and myself, have had a long way back a common octor. It must be a coincidence with her, and he felt slight relieved.) They walked along looking at the trees, Mr. Proctor telling Eleanor what a difference there was in the flower of oranges; as much he told her as between a rare and a common wine; when Instead of seeing a young man correctly dress ed in hunting suit she saw him before her wearing with a white sh i rt a pair of blue jean trousers and an old hat. She recognized his frank open expression and pleasant manly very glad to see you once more Miss Barton. You must excuse my appearance. Had I known that you were coming I would have been more suitable attired. Here I am only a workman myself most of the time that Eleanor was at a loss what to say. results you see before Mr. Proctor smiled, but it rather went against the grain to hear the two coupled together as if on an equality. Yet there was nothing to cavil at. He felt, however, that he had done his duty vouchsafe to many. Who would have thought to have seen you so soon at Sevilla. I knew that you were in Jacksonville and was looking forward to seeing you. I hope that you ar e


24 comfortable. I know how different everything is from from England, but I am sure that all will g ave me your nice message. I barely know myself out he a great treat to me. Something so absolutely new. The mass of trees with their golden fruit has a beautiful effect, especially the mandarins with their immense crop. de, the it, interrupted Richard. I have always thought that his face was He in turn told me that I resembled the statue. A regular epidemic of likenesses breaking e is Miss ng special on. I cannot spare the time. There is so much to do in this large place. Even if I am not working myself, the men know Steady in every way. I was most fortunate when I got him. Also he is well educated, and we have many a talk on a variety of subjects whenever we are working lightens the work. I do not know whether a young man like yourself is quite doing himself justice came about unexpectedly. My father came over here on a visit to some friend s and bought the place as a speculation. On his return home he asked me if I would like to come and look after it, expecting to sell it in a short time. I had then not settled down to anything, so agreed, thinking for one thing that it would give me an opportunity of some travelling, and it has ended by my staying on here. I am now so fond of the place that I should regret leaving it and yet I do not know. It is not what I intended. wherever you happen to be placed. I was not feeling very well this morning and am getting rather ) afraid Mrs. Pratt, she said, that I have rather over tired myself. Can I not lie down


25 and a glass of wine if that will d ? [sic] I am afraid, though t the artist , that I shall always think about her. Chapter VIII Mr. Proctor visits the Malcolms and Attwells Jacksonville friends, and also Mr. Pratt. I want to find out how the sale of the grove is progressing. You can tell Attwell that I shall not want him today . It will be a beautiful day on the river. Glorious Florida sunshine and no Mr. Proctor was so uneasy aft giving as excuse, though none was needed, that he wished to enquire after her health. On reaching the house and finding Mrs. Malcolm at home, after some little talk on local topics, he brought the conversation round to Eleanor who happened to be in her room writing a long letter to her guardians. of her, she o t know of any other reason. She has lately lost her mother and I suppose that Mr. Snowden knowing that she was quite alone thought that a erstand somehow that she has some four hundred a year: enough to be independent . But you are putting me through a regular cross examination Mr. Proctor. Have you got it into your head (she went on, smiling) that she would make Richard a good wife? She is v ery pretty, and quite a lady, and Mr. Snowden


26 thinks a great deal of her by the letter he wrote, telling us to be sure and do everything that we you these questions is that there is such an extraordinary likeness between her and my statue of Indeed I know nothing about her family. She has not told us, and I have not asked . Mr. to who you are and may ask you. The y say that women are inquisitive, and I suppose that we are, preparing herself for the coming interview. much enjoyed my day Mr. Proctor, seeing your grove which is magnificent and your Daphne which is extremely beau tiful, and all the resemblances made it most interesting. Have you been n wondering whether any of your relatives might have been hers, which might help me to recollect the name. Might I ask you, if you will not think it rude, who your mother roctor, going pale and clutching tightly the back of a chair. Miss Fairleigh and you are trying to establish some relationship between us ? It would be curious m y having come all the way to Florida to find traces of a new relation. (and she laughed as s he finished.) But you will really have to excuse me. I am writing a letter to my guardian, telling him all about Daphne, which I am sure will interest him greatly, especial ly now that I think I know the room.) thee, Dr. Fell. The reason why She left Mr. Proctor to digest her attack as best he might and Mrs. Malcolm was feeling rather annoyed at the whole conversation, but as society does, she showed a smiling face, and Like all match making mothers she had a little wish in her mind that Richard might take a liking to Ida, and she encouraged it in every way she could, but neither one or the other had any desire for such a thing to happen. invitation, answered Mr. Proctor, but, (looking at his watch) I am


27 He too went out, feeling that between him and the girl there was something antagonistic. Having found out all he could from Eleanor, Mr. Proctor decided to see what he could find out from the Attwells, so after having seen Mr. Pratt and had lunch at the Windsor, he found his way know how please what is right wherever he is. He went th ere to please himself and learn. I was not anxious for him hoped to sell the grove in a few days.) ne reason he likes working with your son, and would stay for a time to match another one I have which I made a good many years ago. He has a fine inte llectual face and I should like to know if you can give me any information about your family. I cannot trace The old people put on their guard by this question looked at each other, and then the old man answered, At this mo st unexpected question the pair were much taken aback and surprised. Had they been younger, there would have been a start or some look in the face which the questioner might have seized, but at their age they took things calmly and placidly, and as if it h ad required With that information Mr. Proctor had to be content. There did not seem to be anything hidden by them, and he came to the conclusion that as regards Edmund it was all his fancy. He had given the Daphne to his son, not liking to have it under his eyes, look ing, as he though t , reproachfully at him, nor had he liked to sell it. He had often wondered what had become of the girl, and the faces s o like her, was making him recall the past every time he saw the statue or his present model. As soon as he had left t b . Leave him to fight his own battle. He never stays very long and once on the other side of the Atlantic he will have other things to attend to than trying to it there. We have trusted him for a good


28 Chapter IX Ida confides in Eleanor Eleanor sat in her room after lunch finishing her letter to her guardian which included the r when there was a knock on the door and Ida asked to come in, so once again the letter had to be postponed for some other opportunity. Ida was an attractive girl with dark hair and eyes, complexion of rather an olive tint, possibly the result of the Flor ida climate which does not encourage the healthy rosy tints of energetic character, and Eleanor had taken a great liking for her. hen as far as the ostrich farm, go in and see the big birds and walk After they had made the tour of the ostrich far m and seen the driving of one, they started tell you all about it. love and who loves me, but neither my father or my mother think that he has a good enough are right Ida. It very much depends on the character of the man for I have noticed that being in business seems to make no difference out here Everyone seems to hy I wanted to tell you about it. What did you saw you I saw such a likeness between you and him, and it made me want to love you as well. What can we do? I do not see what you can do at present but have patience. A little time of waiting will do you no harm. You are young, and if you really love one another, the bond between you will give you courage to wait. Something or other may arise which will make you r parents see a union between you in a different light. Trust me too Ida to help you if I see my way. You really love


29 yes! I am sure of it. If you only kne w him as I do and what everyone thinks o f it Ida?? be pleased at the idea, Edmund tells me th at they are very non committal , and will not say that ome money invested for that happy day. Some one [sic] may give you a him a visit if we were once over there, and perhaps some other relatives. Unfortunately before magic consent with spring fro m the tip. Hope that the next wave of the wand will cause a sufficiently large flow of the good things of the earth to descend on you both. Hope that she will lover fairy and as we are at home again our fairy aspirations cannot be realized now: but let u s hope for inviting us to a small party tomorrow evening at Sevilla. A steamer is to leave at 7 PM to take The following morning a letter came to Eleanor from Mrs. Atkinso hope to see you at the Proctors. If so will you make arrangements to come and stay with us for two or three days


30 of s eeing Edmund Attwell again and also because at the bottom of her heart there was a strong desire to see more of Richard. Chapter X The Malcolms visit Sevilla in the Roderic and Andrew enjoy steering and running the engine, even if they do make themselves queazy [sic]. It is a very comfortable boat and I have fitted her up with ev erything one can possibly want on board. We always keep some provisions on her, so [we] can get a meal ready on the oil stove in a few minutes, besides, for a short trip like this we take things prepared at home as well. I propose that we start about half past five o clock, make fast on the way at some dock where we will dine, and then go on to Sevilla. It will be something new for you, and it is a thing we often s aid Mrs. Malcolm later in the day. There is the Roderic Bleu; or seldom. e motor that runs her. My husband bought the best that he could get. It alone cost some five hundred pounds. Ours is one of the first large ones [in the] South [sic] , but in the north they are much more common. This is the little galley where we do the coo king, and this is my stateroom. Everything is just as comfortable as at home on a small scale. We can go where and when we will, and she is very novelty to h er. , it is getting too dark to see much. My boys know the river so well that we go at any time, and at night there are the beacons to steer by. Here we are. chairs are quite comfortable. Today has been quite warm, but I see in the papers that they are having a very severe cold snap (as they call it here,) up north. I hope that it will not come as far south as this. We get warnings from the weather bureau, and if there is danger of a coming freeze the locomotives give warning in a particular way as they pass through the country, which gives an opportunity to the fruit growers to either quickly pick their fruit or make fires round their principal groves and tree s to keep up the temperature. Cold snaps get here usually nearly a week after there has been one up north, but there has been nothing serious to hurt for many years, and I hope and think that we are too far south for much damage to be done. A little fruit thousands today would be worthless. I am always relieved when the winter is safely o ver, just the same as in the West Indies where they are thankful when the hurricane season is past. Here we are; slowing down to make the dock and stop for dinner, so I must go below and begin to get things ready. Come down if you feel cold. Perhaps you ha idea of such a low temperature.


31 They had a very pleasant little dinner, Mr. Malcolm being, as he always was, a delightful host. He beguiled the time by telling Eleanor of some of their boating adventures. , forgotten. They were part Draggled and tired, limp and worn. They got on shore in the early morn; And sneaked to their homes as with craning necks, The house holders spied the feminine wrecks; Who with sad sweet smile, yet sky raised hea d, Walked slowly along, and yearned for bed. While the men, though showing some signs of grime, Yet down in their hearts their tale of woe, Did not correspond with their bravado. Empty and stiff, unwashed and faint, Who can fairly the said tale paint. Their frocks, once clean, out in the mist; The launches going with turn and twist; Not a sign of the town or its environs, So they anchored their craft and their hopes till dawn; And thought of their rest so sadly shorn; Till draggled and tired, and limp, and worn, They crept to their homes in the early dawn. , the same it was no joke for the wo men. It would not have mattered in their boat for they would have been under cover, but we were so cramped for room that we could hardly move. Now boys, They found on arriving at Sevilla that they were the first comers, and were met on the dock by Richard. apologise [sic] for Ida who has had to stay at home to nurse a bad headache. She was dreadfully disappointed. She so enjoys a d (So society fibs. The truth being that Mrs. Malcolm was not going to bring Ida to Sevilla with the chance of her slipping out and seeing Edmund Attwell.) care t


32 other guests, I will return to evening is over. You will see how we country people live. I enjoy my months here more than I can say. Here is a happy informality about eve rybody and everything. A delightful change from city life. This is your first visit to Florida, but you will get like the rest of us, the Florida fever as been pleasant enough, but so A few minutes later a laughing crowd of people landed some of whom Eleanor knew. Mrs. Musgrove took he How lovely the river is by moonlight, with the rippling water and the light shining over the colouring [sic] that I have ever seen. There were oranges, reds, greens, purples and brown, with a background of light blue. It was truly magnificent, almost worth h aving crossed the Atlantic delight in the firmaments. You must persuade the Malcolms to take you up the river above Sanford some day, where the rive Cabbage palmettos they are called. A part of them that is quite at the top is eaten and is call the Of its beauties we often have read: But it wears which is funny you all will agree, The boot on the top of its head. ough that the flavour [sic] was something between an oyster and there is Mr. Marshall who has managed to get l. Try the prescription. It says, u Marshall, said Mr. Proctor senior. Malcolm is waiting and


33 to have a few words with you. I could not well say what I wished to with Mrs. Malcolm in the room. The name of my model was Miss Fairleigh. I met Miss Fairleigh at a country house years ago, and after a great deal of difficulty persuaded her to become my model fo r Daphne. When that was finished I entirely lost sight of her and was naturally overcome when I saw how like her connected with that model to make you naturall ished to have been straightforward with me, as you have repeatedly told me that you could not remember your of your questions to me at the Malcolms. Think of your denials here the instead of pain you have given me uncertainty. An uncertainty too which mu st be cleared up, not living must be found. I shall write to Mr. Snowden and tell him all that you have told me, and ask him to make enquiries, and until I have th at reply there is nothing more to be said on the subject, except perhaps that as a guest in your house my regrets that such a disagreeable With that Eleanor left him and went across the room to Mrs. Atkinson who was si tting close to the Daphne, and Eleanor standing up, the two heads were side by side. Mrs. Musgrove Look! One would almost think that Miss Barton had been your mo del for Daphne. Did you ever What a saint you Mrs. Musgrove went up to Eleanor and said Mr. Proctor went int o the dining room and took a long and a strong drink, saying to d mess to get into and that young lady, charming though they all call her, is as decided in her opinions as I hear Mr. Snowden is. What a fool I was to admit that the mode l


34 was a Miss Fairleigh. As long as I could not remember who she was, nothing could be proved. I think though that she will find it difficult to discover anything else. Now O, well, as they girl lass again. Eleanor, having found a seat was also feeling much upset at the conversation and at the possibility of an aunt who had never even been hinted at by her mother, or her name mentioned in the will, unless indeed the two thousand pounds had been fo r that purpose, but then it would have been more. Suddenly her thoughts went back to the conversation in the steerage between the man named Sparks and herself, and she decided that Mr. Snowden should know about that also though she had an idea that in her daily dairy to her Aunty Betty she had mentioned it. intending to come to you for some time but I saw that you were being looked after and I had to start the dancing, but they are taking care of themselves now. I know that you are not dancing, and I am not going to ask you, but had you not rather come into the other room where it is not so e can go, but you will find it very damp. A fog is rising and will probably be worse. He looked at her. How beautiful she was. How could I make her love me, what have I got to offer? Nothing! It is hopeless. returned into the dancing room, two or three involuntary wallflowers who would beam on you if Eleanor. ings have come to my knowledge in connection with myself since I came to Florida, and I hope that Mr. Snowden may be able to clear them up. They have greatly I may want to prevent a certain deed being signed, which bears on the ave to find


35 The evening passed away much as such evenings do, and at the end Eleanor said goodbye to the Malcolms and went home with the Atkinsons. The time came for the Malcolms to start, but by now there was a heavy fog on the river and even the captain of the steam er was doubtful about finding his way, but would do his best. Mrs. Malcolm had no doubt. id Mr. Proctor, that you and your husband had better stay with So off they started, going dead slow. S oon they realized that they were lost. Once they grounded, and backed off, then started and grounded again, when Mr. Malcolm said in an angry riding light and tu The next morning after the sun had gradually cleared away the fog, they found to their surprise that they were but a short distance from the dock they had left, and Mr. Malcolm said to The return journey was made nearly in silence and Mrs. Malcolm retired to her bed immediately on reaching home: while the boys, thankful that Eleanor was not on board, moodily sat about disgusted with themselves and the fog. Chapter XI Florida ponies as useful as English Hunters The next morning was sp ent quietly by Eleanor, who was shown around the Atkinson home and grounds, which also had a river view. They only had a few orange trees round the house just enough to give them all they wanted, without the trouble of looking after a grove. In the afterno on Richard, after interviewing Mrs. Atkinson for a few minutes went into come in fear and trembling to make you a little proposition for this afternoon. It will be , for you, It is I have no magnificent Sir Galahad, but I have a capable little Florida pony which will carry you well. I have borrowed a side saddle and Mrs. Atkinson will fit you out with an improvised skirt, and I have had the loan of a horse for myself from Mr. Cartwri go and make preparat


36 then be on the best of terms with each other. It is seldom that any one mounts him except Eleanor held out the palm of her hand in the orthodox way causing Mrs. Atkinson to say: looked at Richard and he at her. Eleanor as she mounted on his horse, could not help thinking of how she had mounted him when his horse was lame. [sic] (and Richard could hear a quiver in her voice.) After a pause " It is the first time that I can talk as my real self since I left England; the first time that I have been on a horse since the day we first met, and now and then the strain has e you I wonder more and more at your great courage and self I have heard some news which has distressed me greatly. Mr. Proctor if some day you hear of something I have done of which you do not altogether approve tances. Knowing your It was good of you giving me up your own pet. You ought to have put me on the one you are asked to be remembered to you and coolly said, fail nothing in the world to equal such a run together. It makes one rejoi thing seemed so real that when I woke up, which I must have done directly, I stared round After this they went some little way without either of them speaking, each having their thoughts.


37 through the piney woods interspersed w ith hammock land and its different trees, including the beautiful magnolias. They took a longish round, Eleanor thinking at times that they mu st be lost, but found themselves back, in time, at the Atkinson door. cut with the whip, and the last thing seen of Simon as he disappeared round the corner where he nearly fell off, was that he was clinging desperately to the mane and calling out woa, woa. Sanc the intelligent little animal at a steady trot. Chapter XII The Picnic The morning had dawned brightly, and Eleanor was sitting quietly reading when Mrs. other guests waiting at the launch. Ho. Here comes Richard to help us . Our party includes Bessie Armstrong and Bill Stevens both of whom you know, and who rumour [sic] couples together. We shall be three ladies and three gentlemen. We are going to land somewhere, have lunch, and stroll and sit about in the woods. The day is happily perfect, and the sun will soon dry up the


38 r. It seems so cruel to kill such pretty creatures. We always liked to see them running about in the was about to say park.) them if they were not kept Simon walked slowly off. The little launch chuffed, chuffed her way along steadily, and Eleanor with one hand dangling in the water over the side of the boat was thinking how pleasant it all was, and how pretty, when they turned out of the broad river int o a side creek up which they went some little distance, it getting narrower all the time, until it look as if there was hardly room to turn the launch when the engine was stopped and they landed. Here Eleanor saw again the piney woods in all their solitude . Here and there were some cattle grazing and an old sow with a litter of squeaking little ones at the base of a tree, in a wild condition, but generally the rough brown trunks with the dark green of the pine, the blazing sky above and the [xxx?] wire gras s below, (the cattle preferring to starve to death than to eat it.) is left to itself. Whatever roads there were, were made by simply cutting down the trees that were in the way, leaving the stumps in the ground. On landing the couples paired off, Bill di sappearing with Bessie while Eleanor found herself strolling about with Richard. Leesborough on one of his off days and two neighbours [sic] and had made a good bag. He enclosed a pheasant feather as proof he said, though he added that the bird might have been bought. He is the kindest hearted man I ever knew, and he sent it simply because it came from the dear old place, and he knew that it would please me. And Aunt Betty told me how the dogs, remember John) directions she had given Sir Galahad a carrot in his loose box. That the ponies had such l ong coats on them that she hardly knew them. It was such a delight getting such charming letters. I sat in my room for an hour, and could see it all before me. Sometimes I feel as


39 is from my selfish point of view. You have become so much one of ourselves and all are so attached to you that your departure would make quite a blank. All would miss you. I know that I should dreadfully. Since you came s calling, (feeling that the conversation was taking a Florida. The niggers either forget everything, or break everything, or have some s uch wonderful thin sneaked off and hid behind a tree, where he promptly began singing.) c As prize for de cake walk. goodness I put the food in myself except myself, dree [sic] greys dis


40 dye.) s Barton said he. Here is a rug to sit on. I always think that a picnic meal is the most uncomfortable way one can eat, but it makes a change from the daily routine and that is what we need: besides I can enjoy my pipe after without being told that it make Are you being looked after Miss Barton? Richard it is your fault if she wants anything. I can trust Ar e generally honest enough, but cannot resist a chicken or a watermelon. their crocker y was dirty, when they had to, and I am not certain that they did not turn the plates said Mr. Atkinson, of those who are here are what we call remittance men receiving so much every three months from home, and as they generally spend it directly it good natured boys ready to help in any way they can. Is it not so Bill? He is one. Now if you have finished your smokes, and by th e time that the things are packed up, it will be time to be quirrel. Luckily that I did not depend on you, but your punishment shall be the eating of the extra simon abery ting [sic] at onet [sic]. You axes [sic] too much you does. (as he stalked off after picking up the glasses.)


41 The engine was started and they pushed off into the stream and were going down at a good pace, when owing to Mr. Atkinson hugging one bank too closely, the launch struck a snag, raised up on it, slid its length and fell over on her side, throwing Eleanor a nd Bessie Armstrong, who were sitting on the low side, into the water, there ten feet deep. Luckily, the young men living on the banks of the St. Johns, accustomed to bathing for many months of the year are all good swimmers, so that the two girls had hard ly disappeared under the water before Richard and Bill had flung off their coats and followed them and catching them as they came to the surface, brought them to the bank, up it, and so on to dry land. Unfortunately Simon happened to be standing up near th e bow, passing a rug to Mrs. Atkinson as the boat keeled over, and backwards he went into the water giving a yell that could have been heard a mile off. He came up sputtering, for as he went under his mouth which had the usual nigger width was wide open so that the amount of water which he had swallowed was considerable. round, saw, wha t he took to be a gator behind him, but what was in reality a brown round log that the wash of the launch in passing had detached from the bank. He gave another yell and forgetting in his fright and excitement to keep on swimming, and expecting every secon d to feel the snap of the big jaws round one of his legs, again went under, taking in a fresh quantity of water. Mr. Atkinson then threw him a line and hauled him to the bank. Wet as were the other four, they all joined in the laughter which was the one t hing needed to divert their attention for a few minutes from the thought of their involuntary bath. Something however had to be done. The girls could not go home in that wet condition, so all hands set to work to collect wood to make a hot fire, Bill makin g Simon run with his loads to warm him. things. Put on these coats and wrap yourselves up in the rugs while they are drying, and Fanny as there are some lemons and whiskey left, make a good strong brew for each of the girls. It will after the whiskey and you have sufficiently dry to be put on; the launch was righted and the engine started, but it was found th at the shaft was so bent that all they could do was to row home. The oars were got out and Richard and Bill, glad of the opportunity of warming themselves started rowing; a laborious business with a launch. It was along ten miles home and Mrs. Atkinson was getting anxious about colds when her led willingly gave them a tow home. Mrs. Atkinson ordered Eleanor to bed for an hour bringing her up some tea, so that by the time evening came she was quite restored. They had a merry evening Richard, Bill and his girl coming in. Just before saying goodni you did for me this afternoon, but I shall never forget it. But for your promptitude I might have


42 n my Chapter XIII Eleanor visits the Attwells As Eleanor left the dock the next morning on the steamer going to Jacksonville, she was surprised to see Edmund Attwell among the passengers. He saw her and coming to her she asked him to sit down as she wished to speak to him. resemblance we have all noticed. I feel very curious as to the original o with properties and their management, and Malcolm has been telling me a little story about you both, and I want you to know that you have my sympathy, and I have also promised Ida my help. It may not amount to much, and yet it may someday, so I am going to tell you as I have told her, have patien ce. She believes thoroughly in you, and from the little I have seen of you and the more that I have heard of you I hope and think that she has acted wisely and I am glad to be able to add that I think you have too. Besides, with your resemblance to myself, have done, and I hope that I shall never do anything to forfeit your esteem. Here we are at Jacksonville. Will you let me es After lunch Eleanor went to call on the Attwells to see whether they would help her about the resemblance. Their history is this. As a boy Arthur Attwell had been taken to work in the kitchen of a second class restaurant in London, where he had been so steady and so observant that he had become one of t he cooks. It was there that he had met the girl he had made his wife, she being one of a very large family and brought up to make every penny tell. The young couple began from the beginning to save all that they could, their ambition being later to open a restaurant themselves, but they soon realized that to save the necessary capital (as they were determined not to start in debt) was beyond their efforts, and hearing about that time of the number of English people in and around Jacksonville, they decided o n emigrating. On their arrival, and having looked round a bit he decided on feeling his way before starting business on his own account, so went to work as a cook for the next six months in one of the principal restaurants in the town, while his wife went as a day cook to an English family. Attwell during those months kept his eyes open, learning American ways of doing business to which he was able to add his English experience, and having found a convenient site, opened a restaurant which not only drew a l arge American trade but practically all the English as


43 well. Both he and his wife had the happy faculty of making each guest think that he was the favoured [sic] one. He had for the English people set aside a comfortable room in which they could sit and sm oke and read most of the leading English papers and as years went by it was rumoured [sic] that more than one impecunious young Englishman had been given his board for weeks at a time, and it is pleasant to be able to record that Attwell always declared th at his kindness had never been abused. His wife backed him up in everything, and as their own living practically cost them nothing, they saved and invested all they made. As time passed by they saw the town increasing in numbers, and their restaurant much enlarged, growing in importance, but they themselves have the large business you are doing. The building was, by this time, their own and they received a large sum for the lease and goodwill, retiring to a little house where they were often visited by their old clients, and where welcome. much more polished than he had been as a young man, and he had been for some years one of the most reliable and permanent members of the St. Johns church, all hol ding him in the highest their numerous investments they thought it better to remain in the States. Besides which, they now occupied a position which would have been impossible to them in England. Eleanor found them at home in a small room comfortably furnished in American style, and what amused her much was to see the old couple in rocking chairs which they kept going during a good part of her visit. The old woman, nicely but plainly dressed had greyish hair tightly drawn down the side of the face, fastened in a little round knob behind and on her head a small cap. She had a well wrinkled face, shrewd eyes and a kindly smile: while her husband, of small stature, looked frail, but had good spirits, and they both greeted her kindly on her entry. Altogether they might be set down as a jolly old couple, which indeed they we re. Their stress of life was over, and now they were enjoying the reward of their many years of faithful toil, interested in all that went on round them. the pleasure of seeing your son the other day, and coming to Jacksonville from Sevilla on the at me closely: wait a minute while I take off my h at: you will see how like I am to your son, and both of us to continued Eleanor. More than a mere coincidence, and I believe that you both can, if you will, tell me the reason. Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that Mr. Proctor has confessed to me during my stay at Sevilla that the name of his model of Daphne was


44 Eleanor, that the name is not unknown to you. Mr. Proctor asked me if my mother has a sister? To which I had to tell him that I had never heard of one, but that I should write to my guardian an eminent solicitor in London and get him to make enquiries. Owi ng to the resemblance I intend to try and find out all about it before I have done, and now ask you frankly; did you ever know a Miss Fairleigh, and if so under what circumstances. I implore you to give me a straight forward answer yes or no. I do not beli eve that either of you would like to feel that you had told me a lie. The way that you have brought up your son would not admit of it. You mother, and since I came her e and saw these resemblances I have hoped and thought that perhaps I might find some one of my own blood. There is a mystery somewhere, please (holding out a The old man nodded to his wife whose cheeks the tears were quietly trickling, and said older a good b but she was dead and she, in her distress told us that she was married and deserted that the man had left her sudde nly that she was think. But my mother married my father Mr. Barton; and how co uld she do so with Mr. Proctor still alive. O, no! My mother was not the kind of woman to do a thing like that. From what you say it makes her out to be a bigamist. There is something not right somewhere. And I I who venerated and loved both my parents. Wh at am I? Only a child of love. God help me. (and she my poor dear.) Edmund was her child not yours and Mr. Pro said a voice which was so full of distress that it was hard to believe that it was Edmund who stood before them. They had, all three, been giving their whole attention to the conversation and had not heard the door open behind them, while Ed mund who had been thinking much of Eleanor since surprised that he had stood where he was and heard what his parents had just said. , who I have loved as the authors of my being. Are been greatly agitated by this most unexpected meeting.


45 Edmund I (holding out her hand to him) am your half sister. We both had the same Mother for you will always be to me my honoured [sic] parents, give me the money to pay him back every cent that I have received. (his thoughts tur ned in another direction.) Richard! His own son. He must be my half brother. So this is why you would not encourage my suit with Ida, and r, deeply distressed; To every cloud there is a silver lining. I came over here, sent by my guardian, because my mother was dead, and I, left alone, was in a despairing mood. I came here, saw the resemblances, and then found out all. When you think of your pain, think what I must be suffering. A girl who was brought up to know nothing but love and affection. A girl brought up to know nothing but good. Whose mother had been to her a pattern mother. A woman who was loved by all and delighted in kind and chari table deeds. Then ought to have thought of you but the blow was too sudden. Could I change places with you, much as I should also feel it, I would do so willingly if it would save you a pang! Someday I shall have a settlement with Mr. Proctor, the deserter of my mother and the son as companion to the mother. Son, she continued, come here. Kiss me (and she put her arms round his neck as he knelt at her side). As long as we live our house is your house. Do we not both love you? Have you ever caused us one minute of sorrow? Not one! Yo u have been the joy of our lives, and we have thanked God every day for the blessing he sent us when he gave hand which Edmund grasped. at home and think it all over, said Eleanor. Consider what to do. I have to do the same. Do not forget Edmun d that if you will accept me, that I am from now on, your sister. I have no kin, and my hope now is that I have found a brother on whom I may rely. In my misery, it is my only consolation. And you two. Will you not forgive me the grief I have caused you? I know what you must have felt. For you I have the deepest respect, and greatest sympathy. For Edmund I tell you both as I have told Ida, as I have t old him trust me. In my great suffering After she had recovered some of her self possession she held out her hand, and as he took it gave him her first sisterly kiss which she told him to return, and when she had kissed the old couple after putting on her hat, she went out. They sat for a minute or two without breaking the silence when his mother (for we must her awful sorrow she still thought of you. She truly said that to every cloud there was a silver lining, for you have not lost us and you have gained her, and perhaps through her Ida.


46 ally adopted you, and except Ida (for een fairly earned by the sweat of your aight to her room, feeling utterly exhausted and incapable of meeting any of the family. Mrs. Malcolm came to her, but found that all she wanted was to be left alone. She went to bed and tossed about all night, feeling how hard it was to be left to her own resources, with no one to confide in: but towards morning she fell Mr. Snowden received the cable, and pondered f or some time as to how he should answer that there must be another side to the story, and took heart. Chapter XIV The big freeze Before she lost her mother and left home she had led the life of the usual English well to do young lady. Had gone into the usual society: read the latest novels: hu nted: and had been, even she could be. Now that she had come with entirely different surroundings into a more intimate acquaintance with the work a day world, her character had developed and broadened, and as a loveable girl that she had always been. The hardened side of her mind then decided her to make the guilty man suffer f or his deed of the past, and so she determined if not to ruin him, for she did not know the extent of his resources, but to cripple him as much as might be in her power, by making him lose the sale of his property: and thinking of what Mr. Pratt had let ou t about its river about the damage a killing frost could do, she determined to carry into effect what she had arranged with Mr. Marshall. The weather conditions seemed to be working towards that end. It was still warm, and up to now, there had not been much if any anxiety for a change of wind to the proper quarter would be enough to send the cold blast on to the Atlantic or stop it on its way. That had occurred s o many times during the last years that the people had begun to believe that it would always do so, forgetting that years before a killing frost had swept much farther south throughout the state. So had passed the following days, still the warm weather con tinued, though the weather bureau was beginning to be alarmed. On the morning of the day on which Eleanor had discovered that the deed was to be signed, the outlook became much more serious. She made up her mind that now was the time to act. Her plot might end in failure. It might not it was, from her point of view, worth trying so


47 she sent a telegram to Mr. Marshall with the three agreed upon words, the result being that Mr. Pratt, much as he disliked doing it just then, hurried off by the first train to S anford after leaving a note in his office for Mr. Proctor and another for the would be purchaser saying that the signing of the deed would have to be postponed until the following morning. About midday there was a downpour of torrential rain, following whi ch, and during the lull the wind shifted round from southeast to northwest, and the temperature immediately began to drop. All through the day the engines and steamers were whistling their fateful notes of warning as they passed along; men and women too, l eft their ordinary occupations and began with feverish haste to pick the fruit (and you cannot pull off an orange properly, you have to cut the stalk). Many instead of losing time casting it under [xxx?] dug holes and buried it, whilst others, instead of p icking, hauled great stacks of wood round their groves and trees, ready to set fire to them before the temperatures got down to the danger point. Men out of work were being employed to help, at a large advance on the usual wage, and Mr. Proctor was wanderi ng up and down half distracted at the thought of the possibility of his not making his hoped for sale. Edmund at the first note of warning had put his private feelings aside, and procuring men wherever he could, had hurried back to Sevilla and was doing hi s utmost to save for the sake of Richard the grove into which both had put so much work and pride. They had agreed to try and save as much fruit as possible, for no one, even them, had any notion of the severity of the cold snap. Of Mr. Proctor he took no notice. In the state of work he could well take no notice of anyone without anything unusual being observed, and indeed he had no time to think of anything except his work. Mr. Atkinson having no oranges to lose was helping by keeping Simon at work. Mr. Pr octor was in and out of doors, one minute, before it got too dark, he was working on his statue, the next, sniffing the air and watching the thermometer. He could not rest, for the thought of a severe freeze on the top of his debts, was for him the last st raw. As the evening wore on, someone would go out and report the temperature every few minutes with the invariable news that it was still falling, and it dropped dropped dropped until when daylight came it was known that the very trees were frozen down to the ground. Never was such widespread ruin. These who had gone to bed rich or well to do, and few people in the country places had gone to rest at all, were now penniless. Mr. Pratt, on going to his office after his return from Sanford, found that the wou ld be thousand pounds, generously gave him the commission he would naturally have received. Banks which had advanced large sums of money on groves, now found the mselves with hundreds of acres of land, for the time being, absolutely worthless. All confidence in the State was gone, and no one would invest a penny. Mr. Malcolm was nearly in the same condition as the others. True he had more than one iron in the fire, but he had many acres quite unproductive, all his other enterprises indirectly hit, and a large house and expensive family to support, and he could not expect the same income. The merchants especially were foreseeing hard times and wondering how they were going to make both ends meet with no country trade to support them. Breakfast was a sad meal in many a household that morning. Mr. Proctor came down looking ten years older and sat down to the table, but he had no m afraid that this has hit you terribly hard father I do


48 that it would cost me fifteen thousand pou nothing much to help you with. There is a little in the given to me: work hard and economize, and that I shall do at once. I h When Edmund, who had not been to bed at all, saw in the morning the extent of the ase of rats deserting a sinking ship, but there is absolutely nothing for me to do here, and my parents want me at home for a time, but I will come again and see you before long. Also, by my leaving I shall be saving you some unnecessary expense. There is only the gathering and packing of the saved fruit, which two or three of the best niggers can well do under your supervision. The commission men are not likely to give high prices being afraid of frozen fruit. On the other hand this grove and you are so we ll known and thought of that with the shortage of fruit there will be, you may get more than usual. I think if I was you that I should telegraph a guarantee and ask prices. We saved quite a lot altogether, thought I have no idea of the number of crates. My we could have stuck it without that hot coffee and the men appreciated it. My hands and feet I shall do. You are such a practical chap that you can turn your hand to anything, but if they want you at home you must go. My father is hard hit by this freeze and the loss of the sale of the grove and is returning to England nearly directly. I think tha t he wants a day or so to work on your statue to Chapter XV Eleanor visits Sparks at Philadelphia tomorrow 9PM Clarendon Hotel. An She then went during the afternoon to the Attwells finding Edmund there as well, and Philadelphia where I hope to fi nd out the truth of the story about our mother. I came across a man in the steamer who I think knew a little of her in her younger days, and on seeing me was struck by my resemblance to her. I have telegraphed, and find that he is at home and will come to


49 me to go to Philadelphia tonight. Mr. Snowden knows all about it and it is from his answer to my cable of yesterday that I am going. I do not want any remarks made about it and would like your facts t The next evening found Eleanor and Edmund waiting in a private sitting room in the Clarendon hotel at Philadelphia for the arrival of Sparks. About 9 P.M. a waiter announced his arrival, that hour having been chosen as he was then free. He entered and immediately recognized Eleanor by sayi straight to the point. My guardian, an eminent solicitor in London, Mr. Snowden, has by cable commissioned me to offer you a hundr ed pounds in exchange for full information concerning the marriage of the lady who you say I resemble. I add in his name that in case anything legal should found out in Florida that you know the missing link, and I can prove it by telling you that my everything about that marriage, but I will do it, and as some compensation for my share in it which I have always regretted without your offered recompse [sic]. I will write down the whole


50 pounds in the Consolidated to the credit of Adela Sparks (write me down your address please) to be left untouched until she is either married or attains the age While Eleanor and Edmund were having their breakfast the next morning, a waiter brought in the expected letter from Sparks. of which I had better consult Mr. Snowden before anyone else knows. When you have finished breakfast go out for a walk. Go and see the Town Hall, and th e Liberty Bell and find out at what As soon as he was gone, Eleanor when into her own room, locked the door, and began cam in! If only my guardian was here! What would he advise? Edmund said that he would willingly put himself in my place. Can I put myself in his? Knowing now what I do, I must cable my guardian. Here you are Edmund, anxious to know what is in the letter. I can tell you this much raised other complications of which I can sa y nothing until Mr. Snowden has seen the letter, or rather a copy, for I shall keep the original. I will put on my hat while you order a carriage and we will go to the Consolidated and finish that business, and afterwards we will go for a drive, during whi is returning to England almost directly. That he is terribly hard hit by the freeze, owing to the grove not having been sold. If I do see him before he goes, what England, a very rich woman, with many thousands of pounds a year, and you, being my half brother, I am ready to help so as to give you happiness. You must promis e me not to tell anyone; on the same day that my mother died. She had heart disease, and the meeting with Richard under her roof was you may talk to him about it. He promised my guardian faithfully not to disclose anything and


51 and re read it and ruminated over it for a time, when he suddenly banged his fist on the table, ng the burden on her own shoulders. What am I to do? Who could have foreseen this complication when I sent her across And he told her all, winding up with also reasoned that her mother so particularly told Eleanor in her will to confide in me bec ause she wanted me to know all about it. You know in what a condition of prostration she was in at it. I made enquiries, easy enough as it happened. I found th at the Attwells were living in Jacksonville That Leonard Proctor was going there in a few days That the statue of Daphne was over there as well, so that when I got Eleanor there too, all the puppets for my play were ready to begin, and we had all noticed t he great resemblance between Eleanor and her mother. The events passed off just as I hoped they would until this last contretemps occurred, which as far as she is concerned is happily righted; but until it was, what a day for her to have passed thinking of hands, and there I am going to leave it for a little while longer, but I shall send her some day her t me that Eleanor returned to the Malcolms who asked no questions, while Edmund returned home where he told the result of the visit as far as he knew. He also found a letter from Mr. Proctor, Chapter XVI Edmund and Mr. Proctor


52 The artist generally be gan his work about nine o clock and for measurement and comparison he had some days previously had the Daphne moved into the studio. This morning model for Daphne? why it had been put; his hand shaking so much that he had to stop work. connected with it. Perhaps you have also forgotten the name of an old friend of yours called ated Mr. Proctor. any idea of what was about to happen he had taken up a hammer and wi th one furious blow broke it in pieces. Mr. Proctor half rose from his chair, but the damage was already done, and feeling as if all his strength had gone out of him, with big drops of perspiration falling from his forehead, he sank back with a groan. attempt at mastery. His th oughts flew back to the days when time and again he had tried unsuccessfully to persuade the girl to become his model. exhausting itself, and he had suddenly remembered Elea came into his mind his arm gradually sank to his side, and the hammer dropped to the floor. have made a fi every time I looked at the statue. Instead of gloating over it, it has been a constant punishment and often I have should know; and now I am going back to those who cared for me when a baby: who have looked after me like the tenderest father and mother, and who knowing my distress of mind, say,


53 Barton! Ever since I first saw her, and she began to question me about the Daphne your own undoing. You for is that when Miss Barton came here she had no idea of anything of the kind, and the whole denouncement has come about from the resemblances. Your statue of Daphne has been the princip al evidence against you and your own work has been the cause of your undoing. This recrimination does no good, and this interview has been painful to both of us. I hesitated some time before deciding to come this morning, but thought that it was a duty owi ng to Miss Barton and myself to let you know who we were. I will not intrude upon you farther. I leave you to your own reflexions [sic], but before I go I ask you to forgive me for my passion for I forgot in the So saying he slowly left the room while his father after one quick glance at him, hung his head, and then hid his face in his hand outburst of passion and wondering what Eleanor would say to the destroyal [sic] of the statue. His thoughts then went back to her awful grief when she found out about her mother, and from that to how brave she had been and unselfish and he determined for her sake to try and be equally so. At lunch, Mr. Proctor, who Richard saw was looking very haggard but put it down to the the train for New York this evening, and the first steamer home, and the sooner I start the better as I have to see Having found a vehicle into the studio to get them, when to his astonishment he saw the fragments of Daphne on the floor. He collected the tools and went upstairs. Mr. Proctor had quite forgotten all about it, the whole thing seemed to have stunned him, cannot myself tell you, but when I am gone you will find a letter which I am going to write and have for you to read. It will explain all. I grieve leaving you like this. I will try to find something for you to do in England if you like. I know that you prefer an out of door life. Perhaps among the rich peo


54 sell the mules which are known as good ones. Shall I come and see you off? I can drive the tram back. transac That evening Richard said goodbye to his father at the station, both of them feeling depressed at the separation. Richard drove back to Sevilla, had his supper and them decided to open the letter. I am going, I kn ow, to grieve you, but I cannot go away without having left behind me an avowal which I am ashamed to tell you myself. Even in writing I am not going into details, but I want you to know that Edmund Attwell is in truth my own son. I could prove it if neces sary, but I think that the resemblance to Daphne and to Miss Barton who is his half sister, will be proof enough that I am telling the truth. Each of you think highly of one another. Let him know that I have told you, as some very slight expiation of my h aving deserted him and his mother, and forgive me the pain this letter will cause you. I have deeded you all my Florida property and livestock to do as you like with. I would have divided it with Edmund, but it would have made complications which I thought better to avoid. Ever my own dear boy, Your affectionate father, Richard, surprised at this most unexpected news, decided on going into Jacksonville the next morning and seeing Edmund. Finding him or half brother It is all the same. For over a year we have worked together side by side. We have known each other, and mutually respected each other. Give did I tell you Edmund, said Mrs. Attwell, did I not say that you had not lost us but ones, with a bot tle of wine to celebrate this occasion. We are going to put all our cares on one Chapter XVII The big fire


55 cast out and take everything for granted; looking forward as to what we can do, instead of looking back. What can I do with the place at Sevilla. Let it or sell it now that it is my own. To you at home for the is time, and I butler, footmen and large gardens, stables and such a splendid hunter she has. She does look you are not d. Here we are near the house, but I smell burning, and look over there at that smoke. It must be a fire and a big one. We had better first go They hurried along, but did not get far before they saw and met people fleeing before it, w ho told them that it was spreading in all directions, fanned by the strong north wind. boys and get dinner ready. I told you to sta threatening to destroy the whole city, and may reach us here. Put all the provisions you can into one or two baskets and I will run with them to Forsy gone get your [xxx?] and most useful clothes and bring them here, and father you do the same with yours.


56 On his return he went to the attic and brought down a trunk. e stopped before it reaches here, but we kitchen table, told his father to get a He again ran upstairs, found two more small valises, which he filled with useful things and was he made up a bundle of linen in a table cloth for his father to carry, and a smaller one for his mother, who was trembling so much that she was of little use, but whose eyes followed E dmund carrying the heavy trunk. They arrived safely at the dock, the heat of the fire having been felt the whole way where the Attwells were so well known and liked that though many people were waiting to cross over, they were quickly put into a boat with their things and taken across the river, and so out of danger. Richard managed shortly after to persuade the owner of a launch to take them straight to Sevilla. He had reported on his return that the Malcolms were so far safe; that the boys had brought two and hurrying them on to the Roderic. Mr. Malcolm was deploring the loss of his library when some one also had suggested burying them, so while a man was digging a hole Id a and Eleanor were busy carrying the most valuable, the two girls already having sent off their more necessary things. The fire crept nearer and nearer until it was dangerous to stay any longer and Mrs. Malcolm taking one last look at all her cherished pos sessions in which she had taken so much hundreds of others who had not a roof to shelter them. Meantime the fire had spread with terrific rapidity. Sparks flew fr om house to house, from street to street, and as except in one or two streets the houses and roofs were all of wood, by the time one house was ablaze, the next was smoking and the heat was terrific. The conflagration as it spread gathered strength taking e verything that came in its path, whether of brick or wood; one crumbled as quickly as the other. Churches and public buildings vanished. The light in the sky was seen twenty miles away and it was not until the wind dropped in the evening that hope arose of saving any of the city, and when at last the fire was stopped it was seen that an area two miles long by three quarters of a mile wide has disappeared. After Richard and Edmund had seen the old couple off, accompanied by some other people who having lost all and having friends at Sevilla were glad of the opportunity of getting there. They got a row boat and made their way to the Roderic to see whether they wanted any help. They found the Roderic full to overflowing, with the whole Malcolm family, Eleanor, and the two maidservants Mary and Jane. The whole family had worked hard, and having the waggons [sic], had been able to save a considerable quantity of small or portable things, so that


57 the Roderic both on deck and below was crowded with all kinds of thin gs thrown down here and there in their haste. Having told what they had done with the Attwells, and been given a most welcome restoring drink by Mr. Malcolm, and seeing that there was nothing that they could do, they rowed back to the town, spending the r est of the evening in helping other unfortunates. They then went on to the launch of a friend where they had left one of the baskets of provisions, had something to eat and being completely fagged out put the cushions on the floor, lay down and were soon f ast asleep. It was not the reunion dinner that the Attwells had intended, but the two brothers only made known to each other that morning as brothers, had been working together all the afternoon, and now were sleeping side by side. It was a heartrending sc ene that the morning sun shone on. All the big hotels were gone. Whole streets had so disappeared that it was almost impossible to tell where such and such a street had been; and most of the docks on the river front had been swept away leaving only charred piles showing above the water. Chapter XVIII Eleanor stays with the Atkinsons Eleanor was agreeably surprised during the morning by receiv ing a letter from Mrs. Atkinson saying: We are shocked beyond measure at such a terrible disaster. Use our house as your own My wife is busy getting our spare room ready for yours and yourself. Sorry we have only you had better go to Sevilla and get Mrs. Atkinson to give you some lunch, and on the way up, as only the boys are going to sleep on board and they can stay in the saloon, suppose you stow away all the things that you can into the stateroom. You can do without that. I will go and lunch at the Musgroves and tell them that you are coming, and have a carriage or a wagon at the dock here to take away what you want say a t three o clock On hearing this Mrs. Malcolm went up to her husband and wh ispered something, to


58 ys are going to stay on the Roderic. Miss Barton and Ida are going to the Atkinsons, and we are going to the Musgroves. Mary and Jane are going to help that. As you are going to Sevilla will you take me. I was rather wondering how On arriving Mrs. Atkinson gave them all lunch, much helped in her domestic arrangements by Mary and Jane, who nearly drove Simon frantic with the number of things they oing to After lunch the Roderic immediately returned to Jacksonville. Two days passed, when a letter came from Mrs. Malco house and will send for Ida and Mary tomorrow. Can you keep Jane if she will stay? We have not room or work for more than one. What with our things on the Roderic and some that kind friends who were not burnt out have give n us, we have enough to start housekeeping in a modest way. It is a humble abode, but we are fortunate to get it, besides we must economize. We are surprised at the quantity of useful things the boys thought of saving and Eleanor and Ida will be pleased to For those at Sevilla the two days passed very happily. It was impossible to keep Edmund and Ida apart and neither Mrs. Atkinson or Eleanor tried. The latter knowing that in time she hoped to overcome the seeing each other, so much so that on one of the afternoons she went for another ride with Richard, leaving the other two to stroll about as they pleased. the two brothers Richard determined to put up his place to auction. As it then was, it was depressing to see the leaves wilted and brown that had dropped off the trees and the golden fruit in its thousands lying on the ground or staying on the trees rotti better to cut loose from Florida entirely and quickly. He therefore advertised the sale on fifteen days as it was unlikely in the present condition of affairs that any northern capitalists would be tempted to come down and invest. Mr. Atkinson was anxious to bid for it but his wife vetoed it to make my stay in Florida a tim e of hard work looking after that big house. We will stay where Eleanor too was beginning too [sic] feel that she must make a change: that her visit had lasted an unjustifiable time; when a letter from her Aunty Betty, part of which we give, gave her long that you ought to go up north for the summer, not only to get away from the Florida summer, not only to get away from the Florida climate, but to have a change after the trying scenes you have lately been through. Why not go to the Chilhams. They would be delighted to


59 She sent a note by Simon to the Attwells asking them to come over with Edmund and see her. The old people were living hap pily with Richard and Edmund though probably in their hearts they regretted their quiet little home, as much as Eleanor, on her side, was beginning to do her large one. They came over, saying that Edmund would follow in a few minutes. ow called the old lady) I am thinking of going north for a long trip. am going to leave Jane with you. I will circumstances that could not take place before next winter. Now that I am over here, I should like to see something of this country and of Canada. I cannot go alone, so I intend taking Edmund with me, not only for myself but for him. I want him to learn something of the wor ld and its ways. Someday he and his wife will be going to England and will meet well to do people and travelling now and seeing how things are done will put that polish that only experience can he best we could for him here, but two brothers are north for the summer and to see something of the country so I wan t to make out at trip beginning For the next hour the two were busy discussing ways and places, and Eleanor made him get a piece of paper and make out a bit of the places [horses?]; and when they had once more arrived (on paper) at Jacksonv from Ida for some months, and when we do return, I hope that you will be soon after a happy him various things.) Eleanor told Mrs. Atkinson of her plans, the taking of Edmund being rather a s urprise, but she understood that his parents were anxious to send him north, and Edmund would make a good escort as far as the Chilhams where Eleanor was to go first.


60 st eamer to retire into a rocking chair and read the daily paper. This time he had hardly opened it een received, saying that the were in one boat, and after being rescued were taken to Liverpool in the steamer Detroit. We give below the names of the rescued. That is the steamer his father was on, and his name is not er and break the news to the poor boy. It will be a hen I will go, said the good natured lady. I hate is as much as you do but some one She saw at a glance that Richard alread y knew of it. His head was in his hands and on his looking up, she saw that his eyes were full of tears, and the open newspaper lying on the floor. already. I came over on purp ose to try and soften the blow. It is so sudden, and to think that he was in our midst only the other day. The whole artist world will grieve for he was a true and great artist Richard, and the thought of that will be some consolation to you, and having Ed mund place which he much needed, and there was something else which had m we are more than sorry and Miss Barton told me to tell you that the sad news reminded her of the Eleanor, knowing that the Attwells would be cared for during her abs ence, turned her thoughts to the Malcolms. She felt that they had been, one and all, very kind to her, and for that them. It ended in her writing a letter to Mr. M arshall asking him to come and see her, which he did, and after a lengthy conversation agreed to all she wanted him to do for her. A few days after, Eleanor and Edmund left for Jacksonville, she first going and saying goodbye to the Attwells and Richard, w


61 of course do not know anything about your affairs and do not wish to be thought interfering, but if you do not know any responsible person in England, why not write to Mr. Snowden, enclosing a power must have many things of value in his house, and tell him that I told you to write and I will do so me to say that the poor old place has been sold to a stranger for five hundred pounds. That if I am willing he will come with a valuer and make an offer for the furniture, live stock, and implements, and if I wish to stay on and work the place he is prepar ed to give me a salary and provide two men to do the hard work. It is, under the circumstances, a very liberal offer, and I think that I cannot do better than accept it for now that my poor father is gone, all hope of an English estate agency, which he was going to try and get Jane is such a thoughtful girl that I have, if you will have her, as ked her to come over here during my absence, and look after the old people. Of course she looks to me for her salary, and I am people: after working hard all their lives, to lose their little home, where they were so happy and contented. It does seem hard. For myself I know that I ought to consider myself very fortunate when you think of the number of groves being sold for a song , and of the many young fellows whose groves were mortgaged, who someday, and by then I feel sure that you will be feeling better. Edmund will write to you regularly and tell you of our wanderings, and perhaps we shall both be glad to get back here once more, for after all that has passed I should not like to return home, much as I may want to, until I have bee Chapter XIX Eleanor and Edmund go north It is of no use our following Eleanor and Edmund on their eight months tour, except to tell how delighted especially Edmund was with all they saw. The magnificent scenery of the Rockies, to him who had never seen anything but the Florida flat woods, and the giants of the Yosemite valley filled him with the greatest delight. Also to tell h ow attentive he was to and more deserving he was of all that was being done for him. He took the slightest hint and studied in all ways to make himself as she woul d wish him to be. They met many people during their absence for the Chilhams started them with letters of introduction; Mr. Snowden sent them others, until they seemed to be passed on from town to town, from friend to friend. In Canada they found the same welcome but no heartier than that they received from their American acquaintance. To go back to the day after the departure of our two travellers [sic], Mrs. Musgrove came to call on Mrs. Malcolm and soon turned the conversation to them, it being really h


62 th Mrs. Malcolm was between two fires. She too dearly loved a gossip, and had herself nothing in it at all. The Attwells are comfortably off and are sending Edmund up north to find something to do. Finding that Eleanor was going too they offered him as escort as far as New York, where she is going to stay wi s. Malcolm. Miss Barton is much too much of a When therefore the end of October came, and the two once more arri ved in Jacksonville those who came to greet them saw a nice looking young man, with the manners that a man of polish ought to have. Not that there was the trace of a fop about him, but he moved with ease, knew what to do with his hands and had, as Beaucras k [sp?] might have said, a fine deportment and knew how to carry himself, and did Eleanor credit for the trouble she had taken. Richard had driven in from Sevilla and took Edmund at once back to the Attwells, who had missed him more than they would admit, he never having been far from them before, while Eleanor after lunching with the Malcolms to whom she had frequently written and sent useful relationship to h er, without telling them the details. They had invited her to return to them, and had arranged their going south to suit her time of arrival. Jane had of course returned to them to be with Eleanor again. A great part of the time was now spent by Edmund in telling Richard and his foster parents of all he had seen, and in showing them photographs of most of the different places, he whatever was the theme on whi ch they were conversing, it was of what Eleanor had said or done so constantly mentioning her, that he had read them again and again and no letter came withou t some kind message from her. han that Richard: look on and hope as I do I am only in the hoping stage, but I have seen so much happen during this last year, that I hope with all my heart, and have a More than a year had now passed quite given up her mourning she had taken the opportunity when she was staying with the All[xxx?] up north, of replacing her black with pretty greys and whites, in which she looked more charming than ever.


63 She noticed a great change already in Jacksonville. Buildings had sprung up as if by magic. The debris of the fire had been cleared away and the people had taken fresh heart. The colony at Sevilla was much smaller. There were many empty houses and ma ny abandoned groves but those who remained were putting in other crops and doing what they could to retrieve their positions. There was not as much gaiety, everyone was too busy. Eleanor went the day after she returned to Sevilla to see the Attwells, Richa flushing with pleasure as he saw her come in. After a long chat with the old people, who were O, the poor trees How bare it looks. and thin k over what it was. I lost everything at once, and am only on here as you perhaps have heard, at the will of the purchaser. Still I cannot complain, and ought not to be repining on a day like this when I see you here again; besides Mr. Marshall, who pays m e is very generous. If anything is wanted it is immediately supplied, but there is next to nothing coming in, and it is no the Daphne is no more. My father and it went within a few days of each other, one drowned, the other broken in pieces, (but even then he was loyal to Edmund and would not say how it was fortune will smile on you once more, and that these days wi Chapter XX Eleanor as Lady Bountiful A few days after, Eleanor received two letters, one from her guardian which read as fol lows: This will be the most serious letter that I have ever written to you, for I have to explain enclosed. It caused me great grief, not only on account of what it told, but also because she had not confided in me. I can understand the repugnance that she had in doing so; but if she had known what a number of skeletons there are in many family cupboards, secrets of all descriptions which if known and I could perhaps have done, though not as well, what you unaided have accomplished. As to Edmund, I quite understand that as some expiation for his desertion, you have taken his dishono ur [sic] on your own shoulders. It was a noble act and at present I do not see that any harm can arise. He keeps his name of Attwell, so his birth is regularized: but I must impress upon you that if you marry you must first tell your husband to be the whol e truth.


64 As to opening a private letter addressed to yourself, which was not a proper thing to do I admit, I did it partly as your guardian and also because, at the time, you were in such a state of prostration that you were totally unfit to have been told anything else, and I still think that I acted wisely. One thing more. The two thousand pounds left in the will were for the succour [sic] of such a particular i nterest in that subject. Now my dear, I have done with the serious side of my letter, and will continue in a lighter vein. But please condole with me on the long letters you oblige me to write. Keep on O keep on. My! but you are making the money fly, so mu ch so that I am beginning to be curious. I hope that my next paragraph will please you. As I have not had a long holiday for years I have decided to come and see for myself what you are doing, and have persuaded Betty to come with me. No! That is not quite the truth, she will not let me come alone. I am very interested in all that you have done and are doing, and want to meet each individual character. I think though that your designs on the Malcolms almost amount to bribery, making it impossible for them t o refuse to give Ida to Edmund. It is all right, and I could not have managed the business half as well myself. Let me know when we are to start and give me time to lick my office boys into shape before they see my back. I am with love from both of us, You r affectionate old guardian, Eleanor put the enclosed letter in her pocket to read when she could be alone, and opened and I hope will be satisfa ctory. I will be at the dock tomorrow morning to meet the steamer in Eleanor, after telling Mrs. Atkinson that she had some business in Jacksonville which would take a few days, left Sevilla with Edmund. After being met by Mr. Marshall, who took them to an [sic] hotel, they set to work running here, running there, spending a fortune in carriage hire from morning till night, for several days, until even Eleanor was satisfied with the work done. She then took a carriage and was driven to th asked to see Mr. Malcolm privately. going to ask you to give me a sound promise that certain portions of it will not be divulged by Eleanor then told him the story of the resemblances and the denouncement. n that I have told you this is because as you well know Edmund loves Ida. Wait a minute please (holding up her hand) and let me finish. I have another little secret to tell you, and this one concerns myself. The fact is that I am very much better off than I led you to half brother was to take him away, and now I think as regards personal appearance and manners, you will find him everything that a gentleman shoul d be. He has always been praised as an honest, hardworking, upright man, and the Attwells love him for himself, and if you had been, as I have been, his intimate companion for eight months you would know, as I do, what a fine, unselfish character he posses ses. The unfortunate part is the bar on his birth poor fellow. He himself does not know the whole truth. He has been legally adopted by the Attwells. Why not leave it at that. He thinks that


65 he is legitimate, and that Richard and I are not, and I am not g oing to tell him. He will always bear the Attwell name, for I feel sure that he on his side would not like to raise the question of through the marriage service, and for peculiar reasons left the baby with the Attwells. Or say diplomacy. I quite understand that I cannot ask you to give him Ida, penniless as he is, so this is at present what I have done for him. I have deeded him the Proctor place, of which I was the purchaser. True it is not of much value at the present time, bu t it has a good house on it and may become more valuable some day. I have also given him the Roderic which I purchased through Mr. Marshall, and I tell you frankly that I did it thinking that it would be, at the time, a help to yourself. I have also starte d him with five yet, Mr. Malcolm. There is more to come. I can add that the Attwells intend leaving him all they possess, which the old man thinks will some day be of great value: the property consisting of several corner lots in the best part of the city. He told me that every penny that they could lay see that Edmund will some day be very comfortably off, possibly a rich man, so for all these reasons I want you to give him Id a. They love each other truly, I heard it from him and I heard it from her. It is no passing fancy. It was partly for that reason that I took him away. I wanted to see whether on both sides their love would stand the test of absence. It has done so, and no w I highly I appreciate all you have done; your wonderful generosity about his birth and all the trouble you have taken, I am inclined to say yes, but ther e is my wife to consult and she well (laughing) and her little ways we all have little ways but at the bottom of them she has a kind generous heart, and I think that, if you will forgive my saying so, the money part of the affair will go a long way towards making her consent. Please do not call it bribery (smiling as she said so) much as it looks like it. I prefer to think of it as marriage settlements made on a brother by his sister. Also think of the kinship which I ho pe may shortly as his, you may rest assured that none of the unfortunate part of the story you have told me shall r. Malcolm and am glad that you mentioned it yourself, for I was have both agreed to accept your offer and give Ida to Edmund. You have been very generous to him and kind to us in buying the yacht when you did. Not that she was not worth the money, but a purchaser ju st then, except at a ruinous sacrifice would have been hard to find, and (smiling)


66 asure of telling him that bit of news myself. I felt it my duty to keep them apart before and for which I do not think you can blame me; but now that I know that he is your half brother and not penniless it art of the business that brought me here this morning, said Eleanor, and for the other part of it I want the whole family. As I do not want the public to know all about my affairs, I am going to ask you Mrs. Malcolm to be responsible for the family keeping it a They got into the carriage making a good load, which after going some little dis tance pulled up at a house only just finished. In the entrance hall, the first person that Mrs. Malcolm saw was Edmund who looked such a trim young gentleman that she hardly recognized him, not having seen him since his ince coming to town from Sevilla. to At this denouncement Ida who had turned pale on seeing him now blushed crimson, while the boys grinned and nudged each other. Ida powerful pleading, we have agreed to sanction an engagement between you two. I hope that you young people will be very happy an d Edmund I will try my best to love you as a mother should she did after giving her father and mother such a kiss. to Mrs. Malcolm who was staring round, looking at first one thing, then at another, evidently perplexed. one and all of you, present your husband and yourself with the title deeds of this house (handing


67 them over) and its contents. Knowing how fond you were of the old one, and having heard you say that some day you hoped to make certain improvements which you pointed out, I have had them put into the present building, wh ile as to the furniture I have also tried to copy it as nearly Mrs. Malcolm was so surprised that all she could do for a minute was to look at the envelope as if not certain whether she heard aright. might leak out before you had given m building it so like our old one; and he told me that it belonged to a stranger who had asked him to supervise During this time, Ida had knelt down by Eleanor and was kissing her hand, and Mrs. Malcolm gradually realizing the beautiful idea of the gift, came over to Eleanor, and putting her arms round her thanked you yet, said Mr. Malcolm. It is one of those things for which any thanks must be inadequate, but I can say one thing, which is, that it is an act of forethought, long as we ran upstairs. downstairs each holding in his hand an envelope, which contained a hundred dollars and said O n opening it, it was found to contain five hundred dollars, with a paper on which was ood fairy and her wand of the consent of the shower of good things of the happiness, that I said that I should like my fairy to look just like you, and you told me that when I had them what my share must be. I promise you Eleanor that you shall never, neve After the excitement had a little


68 kisses could thank you, you would be s Malcolm had had an unexpected present, and had given you all a little surprise, and all that he will have to do when questioned is to look wise and say little, and the dear public will be quite Mother uld like you to move in at once as I want to come back to you for a few days before leaving for England. I came to you first. You welcomed me They drove down to the dock where they met the Attwell s who Eleanor had told to come to town that morning, and the same scene was repeated in a comfortable little house which she had had built for them; the only difference being that it was to be furnished with some of the things now in the Proctor house at S evilla. There is no need of our dwelling on their delight and gratitude. They were like two children, going about from room to room, hand in hand, findi ng out all sorts of contrivances for their comfort. Chapter XXI Eleanor and Richard ooked round enough for want of it moved from Sevilla as s you for all you have done for me. To the end of my days I shall pray for you daily and also hope that you yourself may some day have the happiness whic h you so richly deserve, and have given think that our mother if she could see us would be contented. I am going to put my hope of happine a mean streak in him, and Eleanor h not dare to come


69 During the afternoon Eleanor set out to see Richard, knowing that the one crisis which all women in their minds hope to look forward to, was approaching. It was with joy in her heart that she covered the distance between the two h ouses. Although there were yet the disclosures to make, if he truly loved her and she would put him to the test as Edmund had said, nothing she could say would alter it and his words had given her much encouragement: yet as she came nearer and nearer, she felt herself walking slower and slower, and could hear the beating of her heart as she reached the house and stopped. Richard heard the knock on the door, and thinking of her, as he always was, on opening it and seeing her before him, had a feeling of gre at contentment, and putting out his hand said: Edmund? Has h morning and I felt so lonely that I got on Sancho and took a ride through the woods, and I me to tell you Richard that I have finished all that I wanted to do and I leave for that something is that you love me. O, I have struggled hard not to tell you that I love you. I cannot bear to love you. I know that I am not worthy of you, giv her voice, but at the same time radiantly happy at having forced the confession of love from him) this letter to read, which my guardian has just sent me, but before you read it you must make me a solemn promise that Edmund shall never know the contents. He must never have to pass through the hours of anguish and humiliation that I had to before I knew Richard opene d the letter, and read as follows.


70 I, like you soon will be, for I know that I have heart disease and may die at any moment, was left an orphan, not guarded as you are and will be, but alone and penniless. Luckily I had been given a g ood education and found a place as amanuensis to a gentleman whose love and devotion to art gave him a good deal of correspondence and many visitors. Amongst them was an artist who though young was already famous for his sculpture. For weeks at every visit he begged me to become his model for a statue of Daphne he wished to make, and I as constantly refused him. He at last promised to marry me if I would consent. As I still refused to pose until he had married me, he persuaded me on account of business pur poses he said to consent to a private marriage. I went up to town a few days after, where he showed me what purported to be a license, and in my sitting room, before, as I thought a clergyman and two witnesses, we were married. I returned to my patron the next day and asked to be released. He let me go, and I went back to town when the sittings began, lasting many weeks. When the statue was finished the artist exhibited it at the Academy, which kept him busy for several days, and I was wondering when he wou ld return, when I received a letter from him enclosing a hundred pounds and saying that the marriage was not valid, the man not having been in Holy orders, and the license spurious, and that he had left me forever. Judge of my dismay, all the more as I fou nd that I was going to be a mother. In my despair I found the sister and her husband, of an old nurse, to whom I told that I had been privately married and deserted, and implored their help. They had compassion on me and looked after me until I was able to be about again. Then, through the influence of my old patron, I found another position, where I had the good fortune to meet your father who had just arrived from Australia, and married him. When I left to take up my new position, the people who had taken care of me agreed to keep the baby, and just before I met your father I received a letter from them saying that if I would send them fifty pounds towards paying their expenses, they would adopt the child as their own. I had no way of keeping the poor litt le thing, and sooner than leave it to look after, being unmarried and ashamed, I agreed, and sent them the money. Though I have been more sinned against than sinning, I have always felt that since I was rich I ought to have tried to find them out and help them all. As a dying wish I implore of you my daughter to do so, and if you do find my child now a man and [if] he is worthy, help him in memory of me. The people the child was left with were named Arthur and Jane Attwell and lived in Marylebone parish Lon don, and the boy was christened Edmund. He would now be twenty six years old. As you know, I was to your father a true and loving wife, but now, to my regret, I confess that I never had the moral courage to tell him the truth, though I think that he would have forgiven me: but to be cast down from the lofty pedestal on which he had always placed me was more than I had the heart to do. I feel sure quite sure of your continued love for me, and I also know that you will try and carry out my last wish. May God in Heaven bless you and help you in the sincerest prayer of your dying mother, Louisa M. Barton P.S. It has, since writing this, come into my memory that the artist who you will easily identify as Leonard Proctor, addressed one of the witnesses by the


71 Eleanor came back a few minutes after Richard had finished reading the letter. He that I did not humiliate my father, by having let him tel suffer so cruelly, your father ought to be made to suffer as well. While I only ruined his fortune, he ruined her honour [sic]. It was I who was the cause of the deed not being signed that day by come between us and our happiness. I am almo st penniless, and to ask you with your great riches looked at the Dap He came close to her, and her colour [sic] deepened. He looked into her eyes and there saw the light of the unutterable love he had been yearning for, for so many months. He took her, unresisting, in his arms, and as she put her [arms] round his neck, they gave each other the first blissful kiss of love. After they had somewhat recove red from their first transport of affection, and their some news for you which I know will give you great pleasure. I have persuaded Mr. Malcolm to give Ida to Edmu just finished always yo I have still more news. I gave Mr. Malcolm and his wife a surprise, and they move tomorrow into a new house built after the plan of their old home, and I join them there when you all go to live in town. It is a r the same day. We have neither of us anyone to ask, me away, but married or not married I am going to be at home for Christmas. I am longing to get eve that Edmund as staid on the Roderic all this time so as to keep out of the way. He begged me to come and see you this morning. He said you


72 have a cable to send tomorrow and I must go to town and try and persuade the Malcolms to hurry As Eleanor turned away homeward, not havi ng let Richard accompany her, he gazed after her wondering, as she grew less and less in the distance, whether the interview just finished was the sober truth, hardly daring to believe that the glorious woman, the one women on earth for him, had told him t hat she loved him and was his for all time. While she, on her part, knew with thankful joy that she had given herself to a man who through all the chances and changes of life would be, to her, a tower of strength, and she rejoiced exceedingly. The Atkinso ns were delighted when Eleanor told them the news of the double event, especially about herself for they had begun to love Eleanor as if they had known her for years. After going to Jacksonville the next morning, and telling the Malcolms the news about he rself and having obtained their consent to the double wedding, easily done as it was impossible to refuse her anything she might wish for, Eleanor sent Mr. Snowden the following cable. return home for Mr. Snowden was genuinely excited: put aside some stiff law papers over which he was poring; got his hat and hurried home. of him, that she has chosen the That evening Wilton was shown into the dining room after dinner. before Christm Snowden. We h ave nothing you know but this horse in town and a trap horse at Castleton and the


73 A few days after, Mr. and Mrs. Snowden were on their way to New York. During part of that time Mrs. Malcolm, Eleanor and Ida were in New York buying enough [xxx?] to carry them to London where the brides prepared to buy most of the things, Eleanor insisting that the wedding dresses should be id entical: and while the women were thus engaged Richard and Edmund were packing up at Sevilla and transforming all that was needed to the Attwells new house, the remainder being taken to the little house which the Malcolms had vacated, so as to be ready for Edmund on his return. After some discussion, the statue of Edmund was sent to Castleton. Chapter XXII The two weddings The arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Snowden was the signal for much jollification at the Malcolms where the new house was being given a thorough house warming. They were met at the station by Eleanor and Richard, the former being with great difficulty presented a few tears of joy mingling with her delight at seeing her dear kind old friends once more. reserved for Mr. Marshall, who had done such a lot of work for them, while the boys were supremely happy on the Roderic, where Mr. Malcolm said that Ted had put a mattress down by his beloved engine and was found fast asleep with one ar m round it. no argument. Put your pride in your pocket and with it this note for a thousand dollars and, Mr. Malcolm, you may thank your boys for this American bit of s y are coming down specially for the wedding and asking you to engage a suite of rooms for them wherever they will be the most comfortable, and that they want to give a swell dinner to us all, friends, bridesmaids anyone we like to ask the evening before, a kind of them and all I have to say about it is that if it is not done as the say, flowers and everything to match, they will be deeply hurt. They give the most gorgeous entertainment up the hotelkeeper and arrange it all among yourselves. I can assure you that I have my hands full in getting things ready for Ida and yourself, a nice lot of troubl


74 but there I was alone; here went to him and kissed him.) Owing to the fire the weddings were to take place in the pretty little church at Sevilla. Mrs. Malcolm had suggested a drawing room wedding as is so often done in the States, but to that Eleanor had strongly objected, her whole bringing up having been contrary to such ideas. Steamers therefore were specially engaged the brides going up earlier in the Roderic to the Atkinsons where they dressed. Mr. Marshall acte d as best man for Richard and Bill Stevens for Edmund, while three girl A pretty little [xxx?] scene took place in church directly the service was over, by t he two brides going at once to the Attwells and kissing each of them, which unexpected as it was, made presented her with a complete costume for the occasion, and her husband told her that he had got a young wife again. The wedding party immediately returned to Jacksonville where carriages were waiting surrounded by a large crowd of expectant gazers, but the Roderic bringing back the brides and grooms was taken as ar ranged to another quiet dock so that they go back to the house fairly quietly. The breakfast was held in a large marquee at which the Attwells were the guests of honour [sic]. The speech of the day was made by Mr. Snowden. He said, after referring to the kindness of all and the happy events of the day: guardian, with considering my charge not too many cares: and even she, my late ward, at the first opportunity took the pre caution of putting over three thousand miles between us, so that if there was anything that I did not like, any little friction, I might have time to cool off before opening the vials of my wrath upon her. To give you an instance. She cabled me one day there was only one thing to do to come and give her away, and I am glad that I did it. So now I am free, but though free, to tell you the truth, am feeling so lost without such an occupation, that I am going, unless I can find one here (looking round the table) to advertise for some charming young girl to appoint me to the post of guardian. With the vast experience I have had she must at the same privilege of kissing, the post will be a sinecure. Applications and tenders of affection from the would be wards must be given in triplicate not later than 10 PM. Ladies pardon me. For a minute I forgot that I was a married man. It is rather an awkward fix to be in, for I cannot well deny my words before so many witnesses, but I will explain afterwards to my wife that at a wedding breakfast many little slips have to be put down to the baneful influence of Vieve Cliquet [sp?] or some other equally popping bound, and I hope that she will forgive me. Ladies and gentlemen this is my first trip to Florida. Will not some of you young people give me an excuse for another, for I am thoroughly enjoying it. I appeal to t he bridesmaids, I


75 suggest it to the best men. Before I sit down I want you all to drink with me the health of our host and hostess. I am glad that I have not had to arrange the thousand and one details which go towards making the success of a day like this . I venture to say that nowhere could anything have been better done. Some men are born organisers [sic]. Our host is one. Some women are born to back them up, and our hostess has done it. I therefore beg you all to rise with me and drink long life and gre of the Attwells, and it had naturally made some talk, but as the Attwells had nothing to say about it, and nothing could be learnt from the Malcolms, besides Eleanor being a favorite, and very rich, and had even satisfied Mrs. Musgrove by playing splendidly for the Musical Society, and that the Malcolms were very pleased with the match, there did not seem much to say. As for the boys, Edmund had promised them the loan of the Roderic during his absence which had at once established him in their eyes as a bully brother in law. Mrs. Snowden had brought with her as her wedding present to Eleanor, (and it is not an easy thing to choose a w edding present which will give true pleasure) a whole series of large size had consented to their being shown. There were views of each face of the house, the winter garden, the terraces, the park, the deer, the principal rooms, the ponies, and the last of all was one of Sir Galahad, saddled, and was the Attwells who were the most interested, from it having been the home of the Miss Fairleigh they knew; so much so that Mrs. Snowden wrote home and ordered a set to be sent to them. When the question of where Eleanor would like to go for the honeymoo n came up she I took Sometimes when ill luck or misfortune has seemed to knock persistently at your door there has been a rebound a of your household effects that I enclose a cheque for five hundred pounds, fifty pounds of which Ida had not travelled much, so she and Edmund agreed to go to New Orleans, from there up the Mississippi as far as St. Louis and so to New York where they were to join the Snowdens and Proctors. Be The Snowdens were to pay a long visit to the Chilhams who after giving as elaborate an entertainment as Jacksonville could provide, had returned home agai n. Their wedding present to Eleanor, besides a beautiful ring, was the sending [of] their own private railway carriage to Jacksonville to bring them to New York. That implied, attendant, cook, a first class cuisine, and every luxury that a modern American millionaire can possibly want. The trip up the St. Johns was of course enjoyed, the young couple would have thought any scenery exquisite. They returned to the Malcolms for a night before leaving for the north, and while there Eleanor wrote a very grateful letter of thanks to Mr. Marsha ll, enclosing a


76 substantial cheque and thanking him for the entertainment he had given them at Sanford, also inviting him to come over for a month in June at the same time as the Atkinsons, and she hoped the Malcolms. The parting with the Attwells was th e only sad feature of all that had taken place, but Eleanor promised them a visit some day, and Mrs. Malcolm agreed to look after them during Their farewell to Jacksonville was something in the nature of an ovation, all their friend comi ng to see them off, and there were almost as many flowers as are seen at a first class funeral, She was thinking of all that had happened since her arrival only a little more than a year before and how much had been accomplished. Chapter XXIII Eleanor and Richard go out hunting agnificent in all its appointments, while the newly married couples were in New York, and the next day they all left for the old country; Edmund and Ida on a visit. The passage was rather rough as they reached the roaring forties, and Mrs. Snowden and Ida had to keep to their staterooms, while Eleanor, was as before, when the weather was fine Mr. Snowden was the life of the ship and a general favorite. He made a capital chairman at the concert for which Eleanor again played. He was counsel for the defense at a mock trial got up during the passage where his knowledge of law and his caustic remarks to the unfortunate judge, who was not so well versed provoked round after round of appla use. He went so far as to admit to Eleanor that he would not have enjoyed it half as much if Betty had not been with him, and on arriving at Liverpool he insisted on the two couples coming home with him. The ladies seemed to have a great deal of business to attend to, sometimes not coming into lunch and leaving Richard to show London to Edmund, while Mr. Snowden would disappear for a day or two, on business, as he said, and grumble on his return that his business was going to the dogs. On announcing two or two longer eating your heads off doing nothing. We all leave this door at 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow of Castleton where I have left Betty to see that you have clean sheets and something to eat; and as you may meet some friends, new lives. May they bring prosperity and happiness to you all. Eleanor, keep a spare room f or Betty and myself when we want a holiday. For you two, Ida and Edmund, do not think that because you will shortly be far away that we shall forget you. None of us can ever forget this


77 past year. All of you have only to look forward now to happy contented homes, and your share of the good things which Providence in His wisdom has ordained. May you be as happy as Betty All four in union lifted up their glasses as if it had been a pre arranged affair and called ou guardian who was ever given to a young and inexperienced girl. God Mr. Snowden was visibly affected said nothing but getting up from his chair, came along upstairs. Open the pian o Eleanor and give me some of my favorites. Come along all of After an hour and half journey by train the next morning, they arrived at a station where were waiting two carriages, one a handsome barouche drawn by two magnif icent iron greys with Beginning to be rather surp rised at all this ceremonial arrangement, Richard followed Eleanor in after she had shaken hands with Wilton and sat by her side. They drove through a lovely country for about four miles when they came to the handsome park gates. Above them was a gaily dec of flags. An attempt was made at the gate to take off the horses but this Eleanor begged them not ter garden gate. children showered flowers on them, they went at a walking pace along the beautiful avenue. Eleanor, flushing, put her hand into that of her husband. beginning to feel a bit nervous Eleanor. They are giving you quite a triumphal Soon he saw before him the noble pile, with a crowd of people all gazing at the approaching carriage, and as it drew nearer the church bells began to ring out a j oyous peal. At the gate the horses were quickly taken off and the carriage drawn by some of the young men of the estate, all in their best clothes up to the front door, where were assembled those we know, the clergyman of the parish and a good many of the neighbors. l know her. Know her kindness her. There are, considering the season, amusements for you all, and a dinner later, during which anor, Eleanor dearest whispered Richard, what a reception. How they must love There was a very merry lunch, but at which Richard was rather silent, and Mr. Snowden realizing that as yet he did not feel at home in his new surroundings came nobly to t he rescue and filled in any awkward gaps with his usual tact, breaking up the party as soon as he decently could; and the guests knowing as well that the bride and groom would be glad to have the house


78 to themselves soon after said goodbye. There was still the outside party to visit but when that She showed him all over the fine old house, then through the gardens to the stab les where she gave Sir Galahad a carrot. They then inspected the new horses and Richard thought that they had seen them all when Wilton threw open the door of a loose box and he saw to his surprise Sancho who he had made a present of to Edmund, who in turn had sent it across to Richard as his wedding present. Both were delighted, especially after Richard had sent Wilton for some sugar. Richard let Sancho follow him a little distance, gave him the sugar and told him to go as you are doing make me the happiest woman in England. You can help me to make all those who belong to us happy and contented; and you can by your good example and uprightness of character, show that you are worthy of the place to which you have been ook at the beautiful flowers, all colour [sic] and brightness, as they should be on a day like this. We have not the beautiful Florida winter climate with its bright skies, but we have the greenest of green lawns, the most perfect of trees and shrubs, and a home scenery, which while other places are The festivities for Christmas were carried out on a larger scale than usual, partly to make up for the previous year which had naturally be[en] much shorn of its joyousness. Amon g the letters awaiting Eleanor on the breakfast table that morning was one from Mr. Leesborough, which read. The best wishes and compliments of the season from my wife and self to you both. I am commissioned by the Daleshire hunt to a sk you if you will receive them officially at the Priory on New Years day, (weather permitting.) They all wish to meet your husband and renew acquaintance with yourself. With kindest remembrances to you both, Believe me. Very Sincerely Yours, J. Leesb The bells were ringing a joyous peal on New Years morning as the people were beginning to assemble in the park. The deer had been penned in their enclosure and all the gates of the park were open ed wide. It was the most numerously attended hunt ever seen by the Daleshire, and attested to the affection given to the owner of Castleton. Inside the great dining hall, only used on rare occasions, and with its table opened out to its fullest length, the re was a


79 scene of great hilarity. Everyone was anxious to congratulate the newly married pair, who were once more in hunting dress, Richard for the first time wearing a red coat with the Daleshire buttons, and all were doing justice to the bountiful spread which had been provided. When the clatter and laughter had a little subsided, Mr. Leesborough got up and said: people can hear them, I am going to request you all to come with me outside the great gate of the welcome to the husband of a lady who has been a favorite of us all for some years, and who this morning has so worthily kept up the traditional hospitality of Castleton. We are here also to take this opportunity of showing our appreciation of the munificent help which the Barton fa mily have always given to the Daleshire hunt in financial support, backed up by forces. It is one of the estates where foxes and game have always gone hand and hand, and the hunt appreciates it. Very few of you have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Proctor before today. I have known him for some time and can call him a personal friend, as I hope most of you will be able to say before long. The Daleshire hunt, as a whole, have commissioned me to be their spokesman on this occasion and present Mr. Proctor with this hunter, which I request him now to mount with the hope that long may it carry him in many a rattling galop [sic] with our much loved Daleshire When these had subsided and the horses quieted dow n: Richard, taking off his hat, and Leesborough, ladies and gentlemen. This generous act on your part has taken me quite by surprise. It has been a secret well kept. In th e great compliment which you have paid me a stranger I see the strong feeling of affection, I may say love, you have for my wife. Think then what mine must be. Since I have known her, her one aim has been to make other people happy, and I feel sure that th e honour [sic] you have paid me has given her more pleasure than anything you could have given to herself. If therefore on some future occasion you see her mounted on this beautiful horse, I hope that the hunt will see in that another proof of the perfect love which exists between us. Ladies and gentlemen, I am not used to speechifying, no more evidently is this noble animal, (as he began to fidget) which I will try my best to do justice to later. I thank you all hounds moved off. To satisfy the foot people the hounds w ere thrown into a nearby covert, and a fox was found, but he had no chance of getting away and was quickly chopped after a few minutes run. The hunt then moved off several miles when a fine dog fox was put up which gave them an hour and a quarter of the fi nest run, so far, of the season. good a horse as Sir Galahad and the members of the hunt who saw Richard at work were pleased to see that his mount and himself and Sir Galah ad and Eleanor were worthy of each other. bounds. When I think of all that you have done for me and the others since you left your beautiful home, contented to live as you did for so long a time, I am more and more astonished.


80 Time shall prove that I will try always to be worthy of the great trust that you have so generously on of the good one can do in the world. It has let me see a side of human life which I should never otherwise have seen, and Here we will leave them, their hearts filled with love, contented t o know that for the rest of their lives they would be all in all to each other. Epilogue Some of our readers who have felt interested in the various characters may like to know what we have heard of them lately. The Malcolms, once more fairly prosperous, still live in Jacksonville, where they are at the head of all the social events at which the English preponderate. The Country Club is more flourishing than ever in a new site. Mrs. Musgrove has worked so energ etically for her beloved society that it is now one of the most important in the south. Mr. Pratt is still ruminating on to the extraordinary way in which the Proctor sale was of it; and if he thinks of Eleanor he puts the idea on one side, for she was, as he told her, only a bird of passage besides which, she married Richard, then why ruin him. The only result has been to make him shut his mouth as tight as the proverbial oyste r. Both his wife and himself have put on a few pounds since we last saw them to their great disgust, and they carefully scan the papers to see how they can change their diet with benefit to themselves. Mr. Marshall has just taken a large contract to haul timber from the woods near the St. Johns to a well known sawmill, besides helping to operate a large turpentine farm, and is in a fair way to become rich. He says that he is ready to marry when he can find another Miss Barton. office for a time but finding that he was expected to learn things on the silent system left: and having wisely invested his money, is now deeply interested in several local industries. He still owns the Roderic which is kept going by the Malcolms and him self as a family concern. The Snowdens are as well as ever and are in and out of Castleton, whenever they can get away, for they need no invitation. The old couple, if not very hale, are still very hearty; and whenever the weather is fine enough, the old lady can be seen toddling along the street to pay a visit to Mrs. Edmund and the beloved baby. They are very proud at always being called grandpapa and grandmama. Sir Galahad is still to the fore: but while Eleanor has been out hunting several times on Seminole Richard has always refused to ride Sir Galahad feeling that he is exclusively for The Atkinsons and Chilhams think nothing of crossing the Atlantic and are frequent visitors at Castleton. Richard, besides being a justice of t he peace, a county magistrate, treasurer of the hospital, one of the hunt committee, and half a dozen other non paying honours [sic], which take up a great deal of his time, is also the father of a fine boy, and the devoted husband of as he says, the best wife in the world. The last thing heard of the happy pair was that the Chilhams,


81 Atkinsons, and of course the Malcolms had persuaded them to come and pay them a visit during the coming winter. Ida hearing of it wrote that her little Eleanor was dying to be introduced to the little Edmund, and Eleanor has almost consented to take the baby partly because Jane, who begged to follow her mistress to England, and is now head nurse at Castleton, wants to go and talk it all over with Mary, and Wilton says that it w ill be her last opportunity. We have tried to tell the happenings of a little over a year in Florida, and its life there, and we now take leave of all of those who have been for some little time our companions, with a lingering regret that we shall see no more of our dear Lady Bountiful. The Bay s Double T ranscription by Rachel Laue (Graduate Research Assistant, History, University of Florida, Fall 2020) (giving Barbara a kiss.) So spoke Anna, Barbara Triga November morning. e one of the oldest county families in Midshire, living at Draynook Hall, an old fashioned comfortable house, which had no great pretension to architectural beauty, except for its very large and lofty entrance hall panelled [sic] in oak and its two immense wide and deep fireplaces. The house stood on a slight elevation in a finely wooded park, the principal feature of the grounds being the beautiful gardens, the pride of both the squire and his wife. The village of Draybook belonged to the estate, and it was easy to see by the neatness of the cottages and gardens; by that air of peace and contentment on the whole property, which is still to be seen in many parts of rural England, that the owner was a man who was proud of his ancestral possessions, and dese rved the love and esteem of his tenants and neighbours [sic]. They clever, and very old pony, now peacefully ending its days. Barbara quickly opened the lett read as follows. Many happy returns of the day my dearest daughter from your mother and myself. We have been consulting with each other as to whether you would like to have something in the diamond line as a remembrance of your twenty first birthday, or would prefer a new hunter. The stable opinion as got from Sedgwick is that Nabob is not as steady on his pins fored [sic] as he might be. Therefore we fancy that a hunter would be the more useful. I am therefore enclosing a blank cheque, signed, (which do not leave about,) so that you can get something that will be able to satisfy your ambition, and carry you in the first flight without breaking your neck. Accept it, and with it the l ove of your fond old dad,


82 Just like dear thoughtful old dad, said Barbara to herself, as she hurried out of bed and plunged No! I am not going to initiate any young male reader into the mysteries of a ladies toilette, so I exchange the plunge, and say that after a certain time she descended to the dining room, where she found her mother making the tea, and her father having had morning prayers, for which she was often late, diligently reading the daily paper until breakfast should be ready. The reading was interrupted by two arms being thrown round his neck, while thanks and loving kisses were given: also to her mother; then after sundry birthday letters had been glanced over, and presents looked at, the meal commenced. Soon Mr. Trigault began about the horse. Take your time, sa id he, in choosing an animal. When you are able to put whatever price you like into a horse, you expect that horse not only to be sound, but to have good manners, be intelligent, have a good mouth and be a safe fencer. Try here try there : be chary of hors e marts. Tell Sedgwick to keep his ears open, and if you hear of a likely horse for sale, go and see for yourself how he behaves in the hunting field. Barbara took al l this advise [sic] to heart, but found that it was not at all an easy thing to find a horse which would fulfil all the requirements though both Sedgwick and herself looked at many. At last, the former heard of one which it seemed might answer. It was own ed by a man, Bennett by name, a former stud groom to a nobleman, who when he died, left him a lump sum down and an annuity. With the capital he purchased likely young horses, and having himself an excellent temper and a light hand, two necessary things wit h such cattle, he turned out some good hunters, and turned over an increasing ba n king account, his clients having great confidence in his judgement. He always hunted with the Daleshire where he know what sort of a place I am The Daleshire could be got at fairly easily by rail from Draynook, so one fine hunting morning, Barbara on Nabob attended by the faithful Sedwick [sic] found herself after nearly an hour by rail and a four mile r horse over, which Sedgwick had been told was a bright bay, with a star on its forehead, standing fifteen three, and having one white stocking; and after a talk to the owner, watch the performance over a country. She knew no one in those parts, the only person who had taken any notice of her being the M.F.H. who seeing a strange young lady, well turned out, with a staid looking man servant, saluted her as he passed. Soon after , Barbara thought that she recognized the horse she was looking for, and pointed it out to Sedgwick, who, happening not to be looking in exactly the same direction, and all the horses being more or less excited and moving about, saw another bright bay, whi ch he thought was the one that Barbara had pointed out, so asked a groom to whom it belonged. Sedgwick repeated this to Barbara, who had been keeping her eye on the horse she had Hall Midshire and I have come this morning to see your horse which I hear is for sale. Will you please tell me his age: if he can be w arranted sound; and of course a safe fencer. I should like to see him during a run and have a talk to you afterwards. The rider seemed inclined, once or twice, to break into the conversation, but restraining himself smiled and answered.


83 ee you Miss Trigault. I have often heard of your hunting abilities from some friends of mine who hunt with the Midshire. My horse is rising six, sound, and a perfect fencer. As the only way to find out what a horse is like is to be on its back, I propose t hat we change saddles. I shall be pleased to give you a mount on mine and will treat your horse carefully. In case you leave me far behind which with your light weight you are likely to do, I Sed gwick was beckoned to and told to change the saddles, which he did, but with some rider on its back. Soon after, a fox was found, and a very enjoyable g alop [sic] followed, in which Barbara, considering that she was in a strange country and on a strange horse, did herself credit. As the rider had suggested, Nabob was unequal to the unaccustomed weight and was soon left behind. It seems that he had a secon injunctions to be careful with him, he mounted it and managed to regain some of the lost ground. Sedgwick, who also soon saw that he was outpaced, on seeing Nabob given to the groom, rode up stud [sp?] gr stud [sp?] groom nothing , re p lied the by now deeply injured man. My master is Lord Sedgewick was almost dumbfounded, stared at the groom, then putting spurs to his own, By good luck; some craftiness; aided by a welcome check, he managed to get up to his mistress, and had just time to tell he r what a mistake had been made, when Lord Longhome rode fences superbly. Lord Longholme! How can I thank yo u for having given me such a treat. You see that by knowing your name, I know all about my dreadful mistake. How my man and I got mixed up in horses; and, O dear me, how deeply I have put my foot in it. After all, except that I deprived you of your mount, hope that there is no harm done. I will now change back on to my own horse, as I see a groom coming this way with him. I can only thank you again for your great courtesy and good nature, and as has been a pleasure to me, not only to see how well Crusader has behaved with a lady on his back, but also to see how well you have ridden him; and you must remember that when I offered you the mount, I knew who you were. I must insist though that you finish out the day on him, if only for the reason that it is the only way by which you can make good those regretful ox ahead of


84 So Nabob was sent off to the Station Inn with the groom, and Sedgwick seeing that he would be having his mistress in safe hands, asked permission to go with him. We can imagine the way that the two talked as they jogged along about the good qualities of their respective master, mistress and horses, and th eir gossip over their ale for the next hour or two; also Sedgwick complaining how the mistake had come about, much to the grooms amusement: for as Barbara rode to such good purpose, that when it was pulled down in the open after a fast thirty minutes, the Master awarded he r the brush. He had by this time found out who Barbara was, and had been introduced to her by Lord Longholme. On hearing that she had to make her way to Forsett Junction, now some fifteen miles off to get a train home; and finding, on looking at his watch , that she could not possibly programme [sic] in my mind, which will I think suit the case. We cannot allow a young lady to come hunting alone from a distance, and have her with such a long ride ahead, and a fatiguing train to follow without offering her some hospitality. I therefore propose that you should come home with me, which will put you three miles nearer to Forsett, and let my wife, Mrs. Leesborough give you a cup of tea and something to eat. You will also be able to have nearly an can return in it. You take your saddle. He brings back his. Good for you: good for the Barbara, and it will give me great pleasure to know your wife, for friends of mine know her d better, if only to see I could have given you all a good galop to try and young lady introduces herself in a strange hunting country to well known Lord, w ith a fine mount o disappeared over the nearest fence before she , resumed Barbara, the horse is sent back with a note of apology, saying that it The three miles were soon covered with such badinage and talk, and after a very pleasant hour with Mrs. Leesborough, Barbara started for Forsett, Lord Longholme insisting on accompanying her as Sedgwick and the horse had to be found.


85 As they left th What with the joke of the two bays, the chat about mutual friends, the details of the last galop, and the pe rformance of the horses, the time passed quickly enough, so that the twelve mile drive they both felt was over all too soon. But it was getting on for train time, and they had soon after to say goodbye, though Lord Longholme told Barbara that after such a pleasant day he slowly, Barbara did not notice. Since the last hand clasp she had something else to think about. A day had been spent which she would never forget, and she arrived home happy but tired. Before retiring for the night she had however to put up with some little teasing from her father on A few days after, Barbara, who had written both to Mrs. Leesborough and Lord Longholm hem, and also hoping that she would be out. opportunity of thanking him personally for having looked after you so well the other day. Write and tell him that your mother and I hope that after the hunt he will come here to dine and sleep. The invitation was accepted. It turned out to be a perfect hunting morning, and the Spinney held a fox whi ch took the same line as it had a fortnight before; and there was a burning scent, the hounds fairly running away from the horses. After forty five minutes the gallant fox was lost at exactly the same spot on the previous run. The afternoon consisted princ ipally in pottering about, as happens at times with the best of packs. But they had shown what they could do, and neither Barbara or her escort seemed very much to mind as they were too engrossed in some of the neighbours. And a very pleasant evening they had, the young couple finishing with a visit to the billard room, where Lord Longholme found that he had no mean adversary in Barbara. After this that he had just as good sport with the Midshire as with the Daleshire, that the country wa s as good and the people more sociable. Having seen what a happy family the Trigaults were, he managed to find his way to Draynook on every convenient opportunity: and having brought a large stud of horses with him, he could do no less than give Barbara a mount now and then on Crusader, a pleasure she keenly enjoyed. The adventure ended in the only possible way it could, the climax coming about in this way. One day, during a run, Nabob came down so heavily at a fence with a nasty drop on the far side, sh owing that Sedgwick had been right in saying that he was getting shaky on his pins, that Barbara had a very severe fall, and though not seriously hurt, was a good deal shaken. Lord Longholme was quickly off his horse and had her in his arms, finding out i n his agitation what he had been for some time suspecting, and that was, that his love for her was so great that he could not do without her.


86 After some time she recovered sufficiently to be able to mount again and proceed slowly home, during which he fou nd opportunity to tell of his feelings at seeing her fall. This led to the old, old story being once again told to the mutual delight of both. Mr. and Mrs. Trigault welcomed their future son in law with great cordiality; her father blushes by telling her that she had hunted for a husband better than she had for a horse, and hoping that he had all the good points he had told her were necessary. Barbara, after pretending to box his ears, kissing him and hiding her blushes on his should er, told him that he need not be afraid: that she had kept all his advice in her mind, and that her lover was the proof. mistakenly tried to buy; and Mr. Trigault on heari ng such a good account from Lord Longholme Barbara to her new home. H A Double Event T ranscription by Rachel Laue (Graduate Research Assistant, History, University of Florida, Fall 2020) country town. They were Dr. Gayland, and old fashioned and much respected medical man: his two daughters, Maria and Emily, aged thirty one and twenty six respectively: the fourth being John Cranett, a clever young man, who the doctor had lately taken into partnership, and whose one pleasure outside his profession was foxhunting; for which, and his rural work, he kept two useful nags, ready for either riding or driving; and when hunting, able to show their owner a fair amount of sport. As he told the doctor, it always gave him healthy exercise: and being a good rider, showed his neighbours [sic] that he had nerve, besides being as he was, a very pleasant young man, beginn ing to be well thought of. For the girls, no longer chickens, the mere fact at their age, of neither of them being married, speaks for itself that there was nothing particularly attractive about them. They were just two good, honest, rather plain English country girls, who were, if not admired, respected. I have now said enough to let my readers know who we shall meet during the few minutes we shall spend together.


87 Dick was the one horse the doctor had, and had owned him for many years, having until lately, always ridden him to visit his patients, though now he generally drove. The girls had each a riding habit, and were accustomed to riding the horse, but at a very stea dy pace when either of them wished to visit some friend at beyond a comfortable walking distance. as far as the Meet, if she thinks that As I have said, Maria was the eldest, and as eldest felt that on this occasion she had should not have Dick, as you only had another horse? I would lend you one of mine, but they are hardly quiet en ough when hunter Mr. Cranett. I do not want to jump. I never jumped a fence in y share the expense, said At dinner the question was again raised and Cranett reported. able which I think will do. It once belonged to a lady who was well known for her fearless riding, but it is now old and is principally used for fly work and such like jobs. It is a large chestnut, standing seventeen hands and was in its youth called Culli nane or big diamond, but has so come down from its high estate in the stable world that the ostler has renamed it Stilts. Its cost as it is for you will be seven If you decide on going, said Cranett, I will escort you both as far as the covert side, and all you will have to do then will be to wait about as long as you like, and then return home at


88 escort [xx]ases. Let We need not go into the details of preparation, but considering their age both Maria and Emily were quite excited, and the latter quite annoyed their old coachman by suggesting an e xtra At the time appointed next morning Stilts arrived, and Maria going to his side, said, with to watch the start. saddle, after being helped on to the chair. It is to be presumed that Stilts who had been given some extra rations of oats, on finding ears had been but bad dreams, and that his youth had returned, for when the groom let go his head, he proudly discomfort, and when old Dick, who in size was not much mo re than a stocky cob, appeared from his stable, he turned to see what his companion was like, and snorted a challenge as if he Emily was quickly mounted, and as soon as Cranett had got his nag, they started; Dr. Gayland They went at a quiet walk as long as they were in the streets, old Stilts trembling with excitement. He felt sure that he must have drank that morning of the fountain of youth, now and then breaking into an uneasy amble, which all three turned into a steady trot when they found themselves on the soft grass at the side of the country road. So they went, a little over two miles, when they turned off the main road up a long grassy lane to the right, leading t o a farm and near it a wood called Hillbrow Copse. They only just arrived in time, as a minute or two after they had passed through a gate into a grass field, the hounds came up. Both riders and horses were recognized by many of the hunt, and the girls ha d numerous enquiries as to whether they were going to follow, to which a very decided negation was given. After little delay the hounds were put into the wood, and the horsemen began riding along its upper side to be in readiness in case a fox slipped awa y as he often did on the lower. The grass field in which they were, was divided from some newly turned clay plough land, which was very wet in places after some heavy rains, by only a small hedge, without ditch, which had been lately cut and plashed. It wa s, as a whole, hardly as high as a sheep tray, of which several that guarded it in places still remained. Only a few minutes passed before the music of the pack was heard, showing that a fox was on foot, and Stilts at the well remembered sound lifted up his long neck, pricked forward his ears, his eyes staring wildly about, and began, for him, a spirited dance of delight. This was


89 intensified by his seeing the rest of the field topping the fence and disappearing in the distance; amongst others, John Crane tt, who according to agreement considering his duties at an end, had gone off after wishing the girls a pleasant ride home. grasp, gave a bound in the air, and galoped [ sic] at the diminutive obstacle in front of him as if it had been a Leicestershire bullock fence. Unfortunately his legs were not the equal of his spirits. And on alighting he struck one of them against a particularly high and still ridge, and down he went she ought to do, and she felt herself going up, up, high in the air, and then begin to come down, down, when with her arms stretched in front of her she was shot lik e a catapult on to the sodden ground, where she lay for a minute uninjured, but too dazed to rise: having her hat battered in and her habit plastered with mud, altogether much to be pitied: but she fell fortunately clean of the horse. Stilts tried to get up: managed to raise himself on his forelegs, hung there for half a minute, raised his head in a supreme effort; gave a loud neigh, and fell down dead. The excitement and the fall had been too much for him, and he died of a broken heart. His remains were l ater given, as he would perhaps have wished, to the hounds he had loved so well in his younger and happier days. We must now return to Emily and see what she was doing. She had noticed the ridiculously easy way in which every horse, and even a boy on a li ttle pony had hopped over the small hedge, and seeing Stilts start on his galop towards it, had quickly decided that Maria was going to do the same; and not wishing to be the only one left behind, she gave Dick a dig with her heel, two or three sharp cuts with her whip, and put him at a canter at the fatal hedge. But Dick was of other metal than Stilts. It is doubtful whether he had ever attempted a jump in his life, and at his age he was not going to try; so on reaching the hedge he stopped dead short, wit h his forelegs well out in front of him, and his neck stretched out looking on to the ploughed land, while Emily, making a vain grab at the pommel, found herself also flying through the air, only at a lower level than Maria, until she in turn landed in the mud only a few feet from her sister. discovered that the same fate had befallen them both. They were so surprised and shaken that words failed: all they could do wa s to stare at each other. Two men would have probably either and when at length Maria turned her gaze on poor Stilts and saw that he was lying there dead, she bu John Cranett, while this was happening, had got to the corner of the wood, and was going the fox had doubled back. Expecting, now that all was quiet, that it would break at the upper corner, he hurried back, and great was his astonishment at seeing the two girls, who he thought were by this time on their way home, standing afoot in the ploughe d field, and on galoping [sic] up to them, saw the extent of the on each of them taking a drink from his flask: then assisted by other men who had come up, th e so that the girls could pass through, Maria was put on Dick who had not moved, while Emily mounted the hunter lead by Cranett the sorrowing party started for ho me.


90 The Winning Woman T ranscription by Rachel Laue (Graduate Research Assistant, History, University of Florida, Fall 2020) It was supper time at the Royal Avalanche restaurant, and the large rooms were aglow with the usual lights, colours [sic] and flowers, only waiting for its guests; for whom the waiters were more or less hovering round the entrance, for it was yet early. On e of them had evidently done a good stroke of business for himself in his mind, by persuading a lady and gentleman to take a much favoured [sic] corner table, where they sat with their backs to the company: and the raised menu which had been ordered, toget her with the champagne, gave promise of a tip which would add to the comfort of the missis and the little ones at home. This little party of two had been the result of an introduction some hour before, between the Honorable Marmaduke James Bellamy, only s on of Lord Medland, and popularly known as wards, so to invite the girl to supper he was nothing loath: neither was she to accept; for besides being partial to nice things, a good supper would make the recollection of a semi cold corn beef and cabbage dinner, which had been her fate that day, fade into the forg otten.


91 There is nothing much to describe about the Honorable Jimmie. He was a fine upstanding young Englishman, well groomed, could hold his own over a country; at a shoot, or over a golf course, and was never happier than when off roughing it on some big game hunting expedition. As for Marian Travis; she was a tall, graceful girl, twenty years of age; ambitious, large blue eyes, dark brown hair, set off by a hat and costume which though home made, showed considerable taste, while she had a musical sympat hetic voice which would in its clear enunciation and carrying quality do its share in helping her forward whenever she got a chance. It is needless to say that she was thoroughly enjoying the various dishes which were in turn being placed on the table, no r had she as yet put her hand over her glass to signify that she had had enough champagne. The conversation between the two had, so far, been of the usual kind. The weather, of course: the latest theatrical success: the last on dits [sic] and the fullness of the big city. The restaurant too had been gradually filling up with the usual after theatre crowd. At the next table behind, two men had sat down, one of whom evidently knew Marian, ut she had not noticed their arrival, and indeed people can come and people can go from the next table to your own in a restaurant and you many not notice it. By now the conversation was beginning to take a more personal turn, and the Honorable Jimmie was then giving his companion a vivid description of the wonderful private theatre which his governor had just finished building at his country seat Torpleigh Towers, with its stage equipment, drawing rooms, electric lighting, far in advance of many a London t heatre doing a big business. would like to have the house full of pretty girls, with myself as stage manager, and taking the principal parts, for neither of which I ha ve any particular aptitude. His other hobby is to see me as M.F.H. One such accomplishment is generally considered sufficient for one brain, but I confess that I had rather manage a pack of foxhounds, swear occasionally at our riding, or conciliate the far though a good many men seem to find a certain fascination in so doing. It was only this morning you whenever you say the word; and it is up to you to arrange the initial performances. Miss Travis, you are an actress, and know the ropes, here is where you come in. Give me some suggestion that will help During the latter part of the conversa tion, Marian had been fidgetting [sic] and longing to you, and shall be delighted to do so. What would you say to be able to give the first performance of a new play which I feel sure is going to be the sensation of the season. I heard it read, and indeed have been promised a very small part. What with a little i nfluence that I have with the Manager, together with the substantial interest that your father will undoubtedly give, I feel sure This caused the two men at the next table to quickly raise their heads and listen. Marian then began; giving scene after scene, climax after climax: showing a wonderful memory and grasp of the characters and action. At the end of each act she rested a minute or two and took a sip of champagne, while evidently linking up the characters and scene s to come, causing the


92 greatest interest not only to her companion, but also to the two men behind, of whose presence she had not the faintest nation: but who were more than astonished at the way in which she was describing the play after having only heard it once. In time she reached the last scene, which she gave with great spirit: and when the imaginary curtains finally went down, and Jimmie had once again filled their glasses, she in her excitement half rose from her chair and held up her glass, saying The sentence was never finished. As she rose to a higher level, the reflexion [sic] in the looking glass opposite showed her two faces side by side: two faces staring into hers: faces she alas! knew too well, for were th ey her face, and saw an ashy grey colour [sic] take its place. Had it not been for the stimulant of the champagne she would have undoubtedly fainted. She knew tha t unless she could immediately imagine something which would give a totally different turn to the present awful muddle, she was ruined. Some idea, which if it did not really deceive the other two, might clear the way. Meantime her brain was fast recovering from the shock, and beginning to think furiously as the seconds went by, and the blood gradually returned to her face. For how long a time she had held the glass rigid to her lips she never knew, but she sank slowly down in her chair, opened her mouth, tossed down the champagne with a gay laugh, and called on her companion for his card. Having received it, she turned round and handing it to the to one anot her, (mentioning their names) and (to Jimmie) I hope that the little Comedy played for your benefit will have so sincerely interested the gentlemen, that your father will have no trouble in coming to an agreement with them. Now if you will, after a parting glass see me to a taxi, I She had carried her little scene through at such a whirlwind pace, that she was gone before anything could be said, and in a few minutes Jimmie found himself back again and doing as s he had suggested. There was a most satisfactory meeting the next morning between the management of the proceedings with the greatest interest. The business part of the af fair had been easily arranged on a very generous basis; but he had made one proviso, and that was, that for Miss Travis to share in making the arrangement: for having, by her excellent memory shown that she had the ability, and by her level headiness that she had nerve to extricate herself from an embarrassing position, she should be given the principal leading part. Both the author and the manager seemed dubious, but after talking it over, weighing the pros and cons, and who, after all was taking the ris k and paying the piper, it was in the end Some four weeks later Torpleigh Tower was filled to repletion, and bubbl ing over with audience, which was to be from the Royalties themselves, to the cottagers on the estate; everyone having been invited. The company had been the sole guests at the Towers during the past week, and, not withstanding the, at times, hard work, very pleasant quarters they had found it; most of them having the time of their lives. Now There was a certain amount of nervousness in the air, due


93 to a first night ; yet the dress rehearsal on the previous night had been so successful that all agreed that the comedy was a sure winner. Marian, herself, had worked strenuously to do justice to her part, which luckily suited her temperament admirable. Punctual to the m inute the orchestra playing the national anthem caused the audience to rise from their seats, and the scene was one long to be remembered; the grandest and fairest in the land being present; those who had received invitations considering themselves highly favoured. [sic] A few minutes after, the curtain was rung up and the play began. The first act had enough with and life in it to cause the critics to expect excitement enough as the plot developed; the curtain going down to generous applause. Everybody po ured out into the magnificent promenade which surrounded the auditorium; and so far it was hard to say whether the building or the Comedy was taking the lead. There was no doubt whatever by the end of the second act, for Marian had appeared and scored a s uccess in each of her scenes. The duel of wits between herself and her rival, hugely enjoyed by the audience, whose ripples of laughter extended over the whole house had grown in intensity with each act, until when at length the curtain was dropped for the last time, she found that she was famous; the company applauding her as generously as the audience. She had had her opportunity and conquered. thanking the audience f or their overwhelming appreciation, he requested permission to postpone any speech until after supper in the Banqueting Hall, to which he hoped all his friends would come, and that meantime, until the bugles sounded, there would be dancing in the ballroom for all who cared to do so. About this time, a scene was being enacted between Jimmie and Marian, which, though not on the programme [sic] was on the cards. The scene ended in Marian scoring another triumph as a winning woman, for had she not won the genui ne love of Jimmie; a love which she as honestly returned. thoughts of mutual happiness; Jimmie left to see his father and ask his sanction, which he had not much difficult y in securing; for besides having now proved herself an accomplished actress, Lord Medland, who had seen a good deal of Marian during the past week, had been greatly attracted by her bright sunny disposition and natural charm of manner: so he lost no time in seeking her out, embracing her, and hailing her as his daughter in law to be. A couple of house or so later, after the regular toasts had been given, Lord Medland stood my friends of having found her. I confess that I had not quite anticipated the large proportions of the success, but even from your point of view she seems to ha ve given the most lively satisfaction. (hear, hear) My own is not a whit inferior, in fact, much greater, and I gladly ask you all to join And here again, as in the Royal Avalanche restaurant the toast was once more interrupted: this tim e by Royalty; who after whispering a few words to his host, stood up, and nd of the brilliant young lady sitting by his side, his affianced bride, and a very winning


94 For a couple of minutes there was a hurricane of cheering which was suddenly hushed as one of the celebrated voices of the country began the first strains o f the national anthem taken up with telling effect by everyone in the Hall to the full power accompaniment of the magnificent pipe organ. It was a fit ending to an entertainment which would never be forgotten by those present: and when a few evenings later the play had its first night in town, there was no doubt that the crowd which gave their popular verdict were quite as enthusiastic as the Torpleigh Towers audience in their delight and appreciation of the Winning Woman. Finis.