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than any one of the little ones bare-legged I could trust that kind and generous heart aod rosy and tattered, such as those Jane which had ever been so true to her, to and Martha were used to teach and have them all. The rain was gathering again; up to play in the garden. But a well- the sisters urged her to stay, but she was dressed, beautiful lady is an interesting impatient - suddenly impatient — to get sight to a country woman. Martha from back. A feeling which seemed strange, babit, perhaps, kept watch over Phrasie, indescribable, outside everyday tbings and but Jane's eyes rested gently upon the common feelings, had fallen on her once young mother.

more; was it the storm in the air? As Susy lingered on. There was a sense she looked at the opposite hills, she felt of peace within as without the cottage, a as if the very line of the clouds against the feeling of goodoess, of quiet duty fulfilled, sky had terror in it. No tangible impresand unpretending refinement. A thought sion was in her mind, but a restless alarm crossed her mind, what a happy life she and discomfort. Susy wondered if she might have led if only these women could was going to be ill, though she was not have been her sisters — true ladies in- given to fancies; her one desire was to deed they seemed to be - tranquil, courte. get home, and she took leave, hastily ous in their ways, making no difference gathering up her skirts with Wilkins's between persons, as gentle and as wel- help, tucking Phrasie safe into the folds comiog to the shepherd's wife, who came of her pelisse. Jane and Martha looked drenched to the door in her clogs, to re- gravely at her, and did not attempt to de. port of Mrs. Barrow, as to Susy herself, tain her. “ Take care of ye’sell,” they the lady of the place. While the neigh- said. Martha came with them to the garbors talked on, Susy, girl-like, began to den gate, and stood holding it open, and as picture a life with John, in a pleasant cot. they were starting, they heard a step hur. tage with a garden full of flowers. She rying up from below. It was one of the seemed putting off the moment of return grooms from the Place, who, not seeing and explanation, and trying to think of Susy, exclaimed, – other things. Susy dreaded going home, "Oh! Miss Fletcher, have you heard dreaded the explanation before her, that there's been a' accident across the dreaded the pain she must give her hus. lake? The colonel and Mr. Jo have been baod if she told him all she felt, and that cast out of t'dog-cart. I'm seeking Mrs. his decision seemed to her upjust and Dymond.” arbitrary; dreaded the concealment if she “ An accident!” said Susy, coming for. hid the truth. Some instinct seemed to ward, holding Phrasie very tight. tell her that Miss Bolsover, whatever they hurt, James ? Is the colonel bappened, would make ill-will between • Neither o' the gentlemen had spoke them all, and that trouble was at hand; when I came away to seek ye, mem," said and yet the heavy, indefinable sense which the man, with a pale face, and some wonhad baunted her all the morning, was der at seeing her so composed. George lighter since she had reached that peace. Tyson brought them across in t boat wi' ful home, and seen the simple and com- doctor; the parson is there wi' Miss Bol. forting sight of two contented souls. sover. We have beeo looking for you,

These fancies did not take long, a little ma'am, a long while." ray of light came straggling by the lattice. Pbrasie leaped and laughed in the doorway at the kitten's antics ; suddenly the child came running back to her mother's knee, and hid her face in her lap and be. The train came is in the early morn. gan to cry.

ing, and the great London doctor got out; "My Phrasie, what is it?" said Susy, he had travelled all night comfortably stooping and lifting her up. “ Did the enough in his first class corner; he was kitty scratch you ?" but little Phrasie there to see what could be done; he had dido't answer at first, then looking up into a confident, cheerful aspect, which gave ber mother's face,

hope to the bystanders. The porter be. " Papa, Fayfay wants papa," was all she gan to think the colonel might recover said.

after all; the station-master also seemed “ I think papa must be home by this,” to regain confidence. Mr. Bolsover, who said Susy, going to the door with the child had come to meet the train, and who liked in her arms; and she felt that with to take things pleasantly, shook the oracle Phrasie in her arms she could speak, warmly by the hand.

" I'm afraid you protest for Tempy's future rights. She will find things as bad as can be,” he said,

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CHAPTER XVI.

THE DOCTOR AND THE LADY.

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as if he was giving a welcome piece of thing curiously tidy and well-ordered. news, though his pale round face belied The Army List and Directory, the Brad. his cheery tones. “Jeffries has been up shaws and Whitaker, were each in their all night. I have brought the carriage for due place on the table in a sort of patyou. We telegraphed to you last night tero. The bookcases were filled, and when Jeffries thought so badly of him, every shelf was complete; the writing poor fellow. Get in, please; drive hard, apparatus was in order, with good peos George."

and fresh ink, for Dr. Mayfair to write “Is M Dymond aware of the dan. the prescriptions with. They could do ger?" said the doctor, as he got into the little good now, for all the good pens and carriage, after seeing that his bag was paper. The neat packets of letters, ansafely stowed on the box.

swered and unanswered, with broad, elas. “She is anxious, very anxious,” said tic straps, lay on the right and left of the Mr. Bolsover; “so are my wife and sister, writing-book'; the post bay was banging who are nursing them all most devotedly. on a nail, with a brass plate fixed above, You know the boy is hurt too; broken on which the hours of the post were en. rib - concussion. They were driving graved. Everything spoke of a leisurely, home together; they think poor Dymond wellordered existence, from the shining fainted and fell, the horse was startled, the spurs on their stands, to the keys in the carriage upset just by the forge. Luckily despatch-box. The doctor had not long one of Dymond's own men was standing to wait; the door opened, and a lady came by; the poor fellows were brought straight in - a fat, florid lady, who seemed to have home across the lake in the ferry-boat. performed a hasty toilette, not without Mrs. Dymond was from home at the time. care. She was wrapped in a flowing, flowThe boy recovered consciousness almostery tea-gown, a lace hood covered her immediately, but my poor brother-in-law many curls and plaits; she had gold slipseems very ill, very bad indeed,” said Mr. pers, emerald and turquoise rings; she Bolsover, with an odd chirruping quake in advanced with many agitated motions. his voice; then recovering and trying to “Oh, doctor! - oh, how we have looked quiet himself. “Do you dislike this?" for you! You may imagine what this and be pulled a cigar-case out of his night has been. How am I to tell you pocket.

all? A chair. Thank you. Yes, oh yes ! “Not at all not at all,” said the doc- our darling boy scarcely conscious tor, looking out of the window. “What a his father in this most alarming condi. delightful place you have here!”

tion," and she laid her jewelled fingers on “It is almost all my brother-in-law's the doctor's sleeve. " Mr. Bolsover will property,” said Mr. Bolsover; "all en have told you something, but he has no iailed upon my nephew. We married conception of what we have suffered, what sisters, you know."

anxiety we have endured. My brain Oh, indeed!” said the doctor. “I seems crushed," said the lady. did not know.

felt my pulse, doctor, you would see that "I was not speaking of the present the heart's action is scarcely perceptible.” Mrs. Dymond,” says Mr. Bolsover has- "You are very anxious, of course,” said tily. "The second wife is quite a girl; the doctor, rather perplexed, “shall I come some of us thought it a pity at the time. up.stairs at once? Is Mr. Jeffries upPoor child, it will be easier for her now, stairs ? " perhaps, than if they had been longer

" He will be here in a minute, if you married."

will kindly wait, and you must be wanting The horses hurried on, the gates were some refreshment,” said the lady. “ Dr. reached, the neat sweep, the pleasant Mayfair, do you prefer tea or coffee? shade of trees; the doors of the house Here are both, as I ordered. One requires flew open, and the servants appeared, as all one's nerve, all one's strength for the on that day when the colonel had brought sad scene up.stairs the strong man cast Susy home as a bride. The doctor was down in his prime — let me pour out the shown into the colonel's study, where a tea." fire had been lighted and some breakfast The doctor, somewhat bored by the

The master was lying scarcely lady's attentions, stood before the fire conscious on bis bed up-stairs, but bis waiting for the arrival of Mr. Jeffries, and daily life seemed still to go on in the room asking various details of the illness, of below. The whips and sticks were neatly the accident, to which his hostess gave stacked against the walls, bis sword was vague and agitated answers. “I was rest slung up, his belt, his military cap, every-ling in my room before dressing to drive

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out, when my maid brought me word of nothing was changed from yesterday ; only the dreadful report. I lost not a moment, the beauty of it all seemed aching and I told them to bring me a cloak, a hat, stinging instead of delighting her, its very anything, the first come, to order the car. sweetness turned to grief, its peace jarred riage, to send a messenger to say that I like misery, a great flash of brilliant pain was on the way. But one has to pay for seemed spread out before her. Why had such efforts, nature will not be defrauded they ever come there, Susanna thought. of her rights. You, doctor, know that Oh, why? How happy she had been alone better than I do."

with him in London! How unhappy she “Oh, of course, no, yes," says the doc: had been among these cruel people! How tor with a vacant eye drinkiog his tea and dear and how kind he had been; how looking round; was this the enthusiastic little they knew her! All the spiteful young girl disapproved of by the poor things Miss Bolsover had ever said came colonel's relations ! "Mr. Jeffries has into her mind with a passionate exaggera. been sent for, you tell me,” said the great tion. Ah! she was not ungrateful, she man, politely interrupting,

was not mercenary, she had not married " I hear him now," said Miss Bolsover for money and mean things. Her hus. excitedly, and rushing to the door she band had been her kindest, tenderest opened it wide. “Here, come in here, friend, he had helped her in her sorest Doctor Mayfair is expecting you," said trouble, and she had come to bim gratethe lady in a loud whisper. Oh, Mr. fully and with trust. And now all was Jeffries, you can tell him what we have all over; and they would no longer molest endured, you can tell him what a lifelong ber. tie it has been between us. How unlike Poor Susy wrung her hands in a miser. that of a few short months; how much able impatience. She was a young crea. deeper, how much Mr. Jeffries ture still, exaggerated and uncharitable, looked round uneasily, he was followed by as young, warm-hearted people are. The Susanna, still strangely quiet, scarcely lovely sweetness of the morning, the tenuttering a word, but with anxious, dark. der light upon the sky, only seemed to encircled eyes trying to read from their sting her to fresh pain. Then she thought faces what was written there. She heard of his dear, pale face upon the bed upMiss Bolsover's speech, and crimsoned stairs — of his look of wistful love with up as she turned a quick, reproachful some sad terror of conviction. She had glance upon her; even at such terrible meant to speak to him that very day, to moments people are themselves, alas ! tell him all her heart, and now it was too and their daily failings do not die when late, it was over now. All was coming to those they love lie down for the last time, an end forever, and she had not half loved but assert themselves, bitter, exaggerated him, half told him how she felt his good. To reproach her at such a time! Oh, it ness. Reader, forgive her if she with the was cruel, Susy thought, and then she rest of us is selfish in her great grief, so forgot it all — Miss Bolsover's speers, keen, so fierce, distorting and maddening and the petty pangs and smarts of daily every passing mood and natural experijealousies; she caught sight of a glance ence. She could not stand. She fell on which passed between Mr. Jeffries and her knees, poor child, with a sudden over. Dr. Mayfair, and all her strength and powering burst of sobbing pain. There courage seemed suddenly to go, and she was an iron roller somewhere by the wall, sat down for a moment in the nearest and she laid her poor head upon the iron chair, wbile Miss Bolsover followed the with incoherent sobs and prayers for his doctors out of the room. Susy herself life, for strength to love him as she ought, bad no hope, Jeffries's deprecating look for forgiveness for the secret rancor which answered her most anxious fears, she had bad poisoned her life. As she knelt there watched all through the night and each two kind, warm arms were flung round bour as it passed seemed to weigh more her, “Dear Susy, don't, don't,” sobs heavily upon her heart. Now for a mo. Tempy, who had come to look for her, ment the load seemed so great that she “don't, don't, don't,” was all the girl could scarcely bear it, she seemed sud-could say; "be good, be brave, I've come denly choking, and she opened the win. to fetch you." Susy started up, quiet dow and went out into the open air to again, ruling herself with a great effort. breathe. There – he was dying and all Mr. Jeffries had also come down hurriedly the garden was so sweet, so full of early into the drawing-room to look for her, and green and fowers. He was doomed, she as the two women entered through the koew it, and a new day had dawned, and open casement, pale and shaking still, he

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looked very grave, and beckoned them | erately and of set purpose. One can well up-stairs. “ He is come to bimself, he is understand how history, so written, will asking for you,” he said to Susy; "you usually begin with a maxim and invariably must be very calm, dear Mrs. Dymond." end with a moral. Tempy was now sobbing in her turn, Susy What we are told on p. 166 follows in was white, quiet, composed. Her hus. logical sequence upon our first quotation band knew her to the last, and looked up - namely, that "history fades into mere with a very sweet smile as she came to literature (the italics are ours) when it his side.

loses sight of its relation to practical poliAn hour afterwards she was a widow, tics.” In this grim sentence we read the and the grand London doctor went back dethronement of Clio. The poor thing to town.

must forswear her father's house, her tunefưl sisters, the invocation of the poet, the worship of the dramatist, and keep her terms at the university, where, if she

is really studious and steady, and avoids From The Contemporary Review.

literary companions (which ought not to THE MUSE OF HISTORY.

be difficult), she may hope some day to be The regius professor of modern history received into the Royal Society as a secat the University of Cambridge has so ond-rate science. The people who do not many claims upon the attention of all usually go to the Royal Society will miss good men, and has such especial claims their old playmate from her accustomed upon mine, that I feel a certain shyness slopes, but, even were they to succeed in in giving audible expression to views tracing her to her new home, access would about history and history-writing which be denied them; for Professor Seeley, are not his. The uodertaking, however, that stern custodian, has his answer ready though desperate, is lawful, and may be for all such seekers. “ If you want recconducted without offence.

reation, you must fiod it in poetry, parEver sioce the printing-press of his ticularly lyrical poetry. Try Shelley. We university published Professor Seeley's can no longer allow you to disport yourwork on Stein, bis tone in referring to selves in the fields of history as if they other historians has become severe, and were a mere playground. Clio is enhe has spoken of them as if they were but closed.” unauthorized practitioners of the science At present, however, this is not quite of history, and as though their pleasant the case; for the old literary traditions volumes were but plausible quackeries, all are still alive, and prove somewhat irritat. jelly and no powder.

ing to Professor Seeley, who, though one This view of things, after finding chance of the most even-tempered of writers, is expression in lectures and papers, has to be found on p. 173 almost angry with received more definite treatment in Pro- Thackeray, a charming person, who, as fessor Seeley's most recent and most op. we all know, had, after his lazy, literary portune book, which everybody has read, fashion, made an especial study of Queen “The Expansion of England,” which Anne's time, and who cherished the pleasopens thus: “It is a favorite maxim of ant fancy, that a man might lie in the mine that history, while it should be sci- beather with a pipe in his mouth, and yet, entific in its method, should pursue a if he had only an odd volume of

"The practical object — that is, it should not Spectator” or “ The Tatler”in his hand, merely gratify the reader's curiosity about be learning history all the time. the past, but modify his view of the pres. read in these delightful pages,” says the ent and his forecast of the future. Now, author of "Esmond," " the past age reif this maxim be sound, the history of turns; the England of our ancestors is England ought to end with something revivified; the Maypole rises in the that might be called a moral.”

Strand; the beaux are gathering in the This, it must be admitted, is a large coffee houses;” and so on, in the style order. The task of the historian, as here we all know and love so well, and none explained, is not merely to tell us the better, we may rest assured, than Prostory of the past, and thus gratify our fessor Seeley himself, if only he were not curiosity, but, pursuing a practical object, tortured by the thought that people were to seek to modify our views of the pres taking this to be a specimen of the science ent and help us in our forecast of the fu- of which he is a regius professor. His ture; and this the historian is to do, not comment on this passage of Thackeray's unconsciously and incidentally, but delib. is almost a groan. " What is this but the

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old literary groove, leading to no trust. A talent for history [I am quoting from an worthy koowledge?” and certainly no one author whose style, let those mock at it who of us, from letting his fancy gaze on the may, will reveal him] may be said to be born Maypole in the Strand, could ever have with us as our chief inheritance. History has foretold the Griffin.

been written with quipo-threads, with feather

On the same page pictures, with wampum belts, still oftener with he cries: “Break the drowsy spell of nar-earth-mounds and monumental stone-heaps, rative. Ask yourself questions, set your whether as pyramid or cairn, for the Celt and self problems; your mind will at once the Copt, the red man as well as the white, take up a new attitude. Now modern lives between two eternities, and warring English bistory breaks up into two grand against oblivion, he would fain unite himself problems – the problem of the colonies in clear, conscious relation, as in dim, uncon. and the problem of India.” The Cam- scious relation he is already united with the bridge School of History with a ved. whole future and the whole past. geance.

To keep the past alive for us is the In a paper read at the South Kensington pious function of the historian. Our cu. Museum on the 4th of last August, Pro, riosity is endless, his the task of gratifying fessor Seeley observes : “ The essential

it. We want to know what happened point is this, that we should recognize long ago. Performance of this task is that to study history is to study.not merely only proximately possible – but none the a narrative, but at the same time certain less it must be attempted, for the demand theoretical studies.” He then proceeds for it is born afresh with every infant's to came them as follows: political phil.

cry. History is a pageant and not a philosophy, the comparative study of legal

osophy. institutions, political economy, and inter

Poets, no less than professors, occa. national law. These passages are, I think, adequate and the following oracular utterance of

sionally say good things even in prose, to give a fair view of Professor Seeley's Shelley is not pure nonsense: “ History position. History, is a science, to be is the cyclic poem written by time upon written scientifically, and to be studied the memories of men. The past, like an scientifically in conjunction with other inspired rhapsodist, fills the theatre of studies. It should pursue a practical ob- everlasting generations with her harmo. ject and be read with direct reference to

ny." practical politics - using the latter word,

If this be thought a little too fanciful, no doubt, in an enlightened sense. His.

let me adorn this page with a passage tory is not a narrative of all sorts of facts from one of the great masters of English - biographical, moral, political — but of such facts as a scientific diagnosis bas that the pious labor of transcription could

prose — Walter Savage Landor. Would ascertained to be historically interesting. confer the tiniest measure of the gift! In In fine, history, if her study is to be prof. that bundle of imaginary letters Landor itable and not a mere pastime, less ex. called “Pericles and Aspasia,” we fiod hausting than skittles and cheaper than horse exercise, must be dominated by follows:

Aspasia writing to her friend Cleone as some theory capable of verification by reference to certain ascertained facts be. To-day there came to visit us a writer who longing to a particular class.

is not yet an Author: his name is Thucydides. Is this the right way of looking upon We understand that he has been these several history? The dictionaries tell us that years, engaged in preparation for a history. bistory and story are the same word, and that wonderful man had returned to our coun

Pericles invited him to meet Herodotus, when are derived from a Greek source, signify- try and was about to sail from Athens. Until ing information obtained by inquiry. The then it was believed by the intimate friends of natural definition of history, therefore, Thucydides that he would devote his life to surely is the story of man upon earth, and Poetry, and such is his vigor both of thought the historian is he who tells us any chapter and expression that he would have been the or fragment of that story. All things that rival of Pindar. Even now he is fonder of on earth do dwell havé, no doubt, their talking on poetry than any other subject, and history as well as man; but when a mem- blushed when history was mentioned.' By de. ber, however humble, of the human race grees, however, he warmed, and listened with

deep interest to the discourse of Pericles on speaks of history without any explanatory the duties of a historian. context, he may be presumed to be allud.

“May our first Athenian historian not be the ing to his own family records, to the story greatest,” said he, “as the first of our dramaof humanity during its passage across the tists has been, in the opinion of many. We earth's surface.

are growing too loquacious both on the stage

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