The higher nature may pity the lower and long to elevate it, but the two cannot work as friends without such assimilation.
There must at least be kindred principles strong enough to overcome, or even utilize the many minor points of difference which may exist, without proving any bar to a real friendship, or the closer union of which marriage should be the precursor.
Alas, that so close a union should not always mean true unity of hearts, aims, hopes, and lives!
Of Captain Torrance's character something has already been told. Of Aylmer Matheson's only good can be written.
An only son and idolized by his father, he repaid this affection by filial devotion. A man of scholarly attainments and refined tastes, whose society was much sought after, Aylmer was content to share the country pursuits in which his father delighted, and to live almost wholly at Westhill after leaving Oxford. Whilst at college he had been the generous friend and helper of young men who needed such aid. In society he was self-possessed, but modest; in manners as courteous and considerate to the lowly as to those who filled high places.
In one respect Aylmer and his father closely resembled each other. Unlike too many young men, Aylmer was not ashamed to confess Christ before the world, but gladly acknowledged that his chief desire was to be numbered amongst His true soldiers and servants, and to spend and be spent in doing His will.
It will be easily imagined that friendship between Captain Jack Torrance and Aylmer Matheson could hardly exist.
CHAPTER V UNDER WATCH AND WARD
IT seemed strange that the huge building which was the country residence of the Honourable Edmund Arthur Holwynd, Earl of Waybridge, should be simply Hollingsby, whilst the smaller, but far prettier home of the Mountfords, should be styled Hollingsby Hall. But so it was, and though ignorant strangers would sometimes call the latter Little Hollingsby by way of distinction, such were always sternly rebuked by the older dwellers in the neighbourhood.
Everybody knew that the earl was only the representative of a very modern peerage, and that his rambling house, red brick with white stone facings, was no old family-seat, but the outcome of a large expenditure of money with the minimum of taste on the part of his father, the first peer.
The Hall, on the contrary, was known to occupy part of the site of a much larger building that had stood there centuries ago, and always this spot had been owned by a Mountford.
Kathleen's father had told her a good deal about her home and those who had owned it.
"You ought to know all about it, Kitty," he said, "for it will be yours some day. The estate which goes with the Hall is not a large one, but it is large enough to keep up a house of this size. You have heard of estates being burdened, and even lost, because some foolish owner could not be satisfied without building a place too large for his means. The Mountfords of old were wiser in their day and generation."
"One of them, four grandfathers back, I believe, was living like some who had gone before, in the old Hall, or rather part of it, for it was too big for the income. So like a wise man he saved enough to pull it down and to build this pretty nest in which you were born."
"The Mountfords have been very jealous about their lands, and proud of their name. They would never entail the estate, but trusted to each generation to pass it on intact to the next. So it has been hitherto, though, so far, an heir has never been lacking. Now the good name of the old Mountfords will have to be kept up by a slip of a girl when I am gone. Remember, dear, ours is an honest name. We have prided ourselves on living within our means, that we might have something wherewith to show our love to God by helping our neighbour; on hating debt and keeping aloof from habits and associates who were likely to lead us into it."
"Kitty darling, when you are mistress of Hollingsby Hall, keep to the old Mountford traditions, and show that in all that is lovely and of good report, a woman need not be a whit behind the men of her family. If I should be taken from you, you will be lovingly guarded, and I trust you will look on those to whose care you are committed as representing your parents, for they have been prayerfully chosen, and are worthy of your esteem."
Of course Kathleen had wept when she heard these words, and had thrown herself into her father's arms, ready to promise anything, and feeling resolved that the old name, home, and estates should never be lowered, lost, or lessened through her. All the same, she hoped that the dear father would live to see her quite old, a wish not destined to be realized.
Mr. Mountford had directed that Kathleen should be educated at home, and, as Mrs. Ellicott's daughter, Geraldine, or Ger, as her cousin called her, was only two years older, the girls would study together happily enough. A liberal income was to be set aside for the maintenance of the home, and Kathleen was to be brought up with the same surroundings as she would have been had her father lived.
"Better she should be accustomed to all that her means justify, than be deprived of what she has been used to from childhood, and then placed in absolute possession of a large fortune when she comes of age," he had said.
So Hollingsby Hall showed little change during Kathleen's girlhood. All the old servants stayed on under Mrs. Ellicott's rule; but the large sum of money which Mr. Mountford had left to his daughter in addition to the estate became larger each year, as the income from the latter more than met all expenses.
Geraldine Ellicott presented a great contrast to the young heiress; but the cousins were strongly attached to each other, and had many tastes in common.
Externally they were altogether unlike. Miss Ellicott was very tall, and too slender for her height, but erect and graceful in spite of it. She had no decided complexion. Her features would never have been chosen as models by painter or sculptor, and most people, looking at her face in repose, would have pronounced her decidedly plain. But her broad brow suggested intellect, and she was a most thoughtful student and reader.
Kathleen and she were alike musical, yet with a difference. Each was naturally gifted; but whilst the one was contented with the facility which followed a moderate amount of effort, Geraldine was ever working to turn to the best account every talent she possessed.
"When I play or sing, people listen, smile, and say, 'Thank you so much! What a charming voice you have, Miss Mountford!' or, 'What a lovely touch!' When you lift up that grand contralto voice of yours, there is a silence that one feels, and they pay you the greater compliment of forgetting to thank you. They are absorbed. They give little gasps as the last note dies away, and there is a look of awe on some faces, as if there might be an uncanny element in a voice which so entrances the hearers. How I envy your power!" Kathleen would often say.
Geraldine would laugh at her cousin's words, but there were many who felt what Kathleen expressed, and went further still, declaring that when Miss Ellicott sang, she became positively beautiful, there was so much soul shining in her eyes, which were as fine as Miss Mountford's, whilst in herself she was the dearest, kindest creature possible.
Pretty Mrs. Stapleton once ventured to remark that Geraldine Ellicott was a girl whom every one liked, but no one would ever fall in love with. The speaker was, however, one whose judgment was not absolutely infallible.
It sometimes happens that those whose good looks are their sole attraction, are unable to understand the attractiveness which exists and lasts, without them.
When Kathleen returned to the Hall, after her drive to the meet, she rushed to her cousin's room, and flung herself into an easy-chair without waiting to take off her outdoor garments.
Miss Ellicott was looking out of the window, but she turned to greet Kathleen with a bright smile on her face, as if it were reflecting happy thoughts.
"Well, Kitty, have you enjoyed your drive? I was just thinking how lovely the colouring would be on the hedgerows, with the sun shining. I have been revelling in it without leaving home."
"I might as well have stayed here, for the drive only made me ill-tempered and envious;" and Kathleen gave her cousin an account of what and whom she had seen on the road, a half-defiant expression showing itself in face and tone as she alluded to Captain Torrance.
"You must have laughed, Ger, had you seen the way aunty ignored Captain Jack and gave him the back of her bonnet to contemplate, when he was dying to speak to her. However, she had to be civil when he came up afterwards. What a splendid boy little Ralph is!"
"He is a fine little fellow. I always feel so sorry for him," replied Geraldine, ignoring Kathleen's allusion to Mrs. Ellicott's coolness to Captain Jack.
"I cannot see much need for pity, Ger. Ralph's father dotes on that child. It is beautiful to see them together."
"I am sure it is. No one doubts the father's love for Ralph. But who would not pity a motherless boy, for the best of fathers could not make up for such a loss, and—" Geraldine paused, and Kathleen completed the sentence in her own fashion—
"And Ralph has not the best of fathers, I suppose you would say."
"Do not put words into my mouth, Kitty dear. It is not for me to judge, only, without disparaging Captain Torrance, one can hardly think it is good for that dear boy to be associated with his father's friends in all their pursuits. He must see and learn many things that are hardly fitting for a child to know."
The gentle reply mollified Kathleen, and she replied, "I dare say you are right, but I really believe Ralph's father is so fond of the boy, that he cannot bear him out of his sight."
"I can quite understand that, Kitty. You see, Captain Jack is of an affectionate nature, and the sort of man who could not endure loneliness."
Geraldine had no desire to prolong a conversation of which Captain Torrance was the subject. She could not agree with her cousin's estimate of his character, and would not irritate her by expressing her own opinion. She could, however, hardly suppress a smile at the idea of Captain Jack in solitude at Monk's How. Everybody knew that it was seldom without a crowd of guests, who were helping its owner to get rid of what was left of his once ample fortune.
"I need not say that my honoured guardian was not at Hollingsby this morning. Like Aunt Ellicott, he sympathizes with the fox," said Kathleen, after a pause.
"Mr. Matheson called here whilst you were out."
"Expecting to see me, no doubt. How disappointed he would be at finding only you!"
She looked archly at her cousin, but in Geraldine's face there was no self-consciousness.
"I am certain he was disappointed," continued Kathleen. "Perhaps he came round to make sure that I had not mounted Polly and gone after the hounds. Eh, Ger?"
"Do not say that, Kitty dear. Such a thought would never enter his mind. He knows you would never break your promise to your father."
"Yet, after I made it, my poor father himself doubted whether I should keep it. I cannot tell you, Ger, how the thought of this one thing troubles me, and all the more, because he had said so much about the Mountfords, and that I, a girl, need not be a whit behind the noblest of the men who had gone before me. I am certain something has been hidden from me. I was just told what everybody else knew, that my mother's blindness and helplessness were the result of a fall from her horse. But I am not prohibited from riding. It torments me to think there is a mystery about the whole thing. I am not a child. I ought to know all."
Kathleen waited for no reply, but snatched up her gloves and left the room hastily, that Geraldine might not notice her springing tears.
Mrs. Ellicott entered almost directly afterwards.
"Is anything wrong with Kitty?" she asked. "She rushed past me just now, and I fancied she was crying. Surely you girls have not been quarrelling!"
"No fear of that, mother," said Ger; and then she told what had passed, adding, "Can you not tell her? I do believe the knowledge of the whole truth about her mother's accident would help poor Kitty to battle against the fits of wilfulness which come on from time to time."
"Perhaps so, dear. I will think about it."
Mrs. Ellicott did think, and decided that what Kitty called "a hateful mystery" should be one no longer. Holding the girl's hand in hers, Mrs. Ellicott told her niece the story of her mother's misfortune, and what led to it. Tenderly, we may be sure, and not forgetting to picture the after penitence and patience of the sufferer.
"I loved your mother so dearly, Kitty," she said, "that it gives me a great pang to speak of the fault for which she paid so heavy a penalty. Your father gave me permission to tell you all, if it would be for your good to know it. He only concealed so much because it seemed hard to expose a mother's fault to her child, especially as you only knew her during those last years. You remember how lovely and how patient she was. Your father thought it would be best for you to picture her just as you saw her after—"
Mrs. Ellicott stopped to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"I am ashamed of myself!" cried Kathleen. "I might have been sure that my father was silent for a good reason; and here have I been giving way to pettishness and ill-temper, because he, in tenderness to my mother's memory, and out of love to me, withheld this sorrowful story from me. Forgive me for the trouble I have given you, aunty! I hope what I have heard will be a lesson and a help to me. I would not be without the memory of my sweet mother's face for all the world, and now I know everything, I grieve for her more than I can tell you."
Mrs. Ellicott could not regret having told Kathleen the truth, for she became much more gentle for a time and watchful over herself. An incident which occurred the same evening made her specially hopeful on the girl's account.
As Mountain was returning to his cottage, after a visit to the stables, he was accosted by a smart groom, whose face was strange to him, but whose livery showed that he was in the service of Captain Torrance.
"This is Little Hollingsby, isn't it?" asked the man.
"Not that I know of," replied Mountain.
"Why, don't you live here?" pointing to the Hall.
"I live there!" returned Mountain, indicating his humbler dwelling by pointing his thumb at it.
