Wee Wifie Part 14

"Hush, dear, we can not talk any more now; we have pa.s.sed the church and the vicarage already--we are nearly home;" and as he spoke they came in sight of the lodge, where Catharine was waiting with her baby in her arms.

Fay smiled and nodded, and then they turned in at the gate, and the darkness seemed to swallow them up.

The avenue leading to Redmond Hall was the glory of the whole neighborhood.

Wayfarers, toiling along the hot and dusty road that leads from Singleton to Sandycliffe, always paused to look through the great gate at the green paradise beyond.

It was like a glade in some forest, so deep was its shadowy gloom, so unbroken its repose; while the arrowy sun-shafts flickered patterns on the mossy footpaths, or drew a golden girdle round some time-worn trunk.

Here stood the grand old oaks, under whose branches many a Redmond played as a child in the days before the Restoration--long before the time when Marmaduke, fifth baronet of that name, joined the forces of Rupert, and fell fighting by the side of his dead sons.

Here too were the aged beeches; some with contorted boles, and marvelously twisted limbs, like t.i.tans struggling in their death-throes, and others with the sap of youth still flowing through their woody veins, as they stood clothed in the beauty of their prime.

Fay had often played in this wonderful avenue. She remembered, when she was a child, rambling with her nurse in the Redmond woods, with their copses of nut-trees and wild-rose thickets; and their tiny sylvan lawns, starred over with woodland flowers, such as Spenser would have peopled "with bearded Fauns and Satyrs, who with their horned feet do wear the ground, and all the woody nymphs--the fair Hamadryades;" but though she peered eagerly out in the darkness, she could see nothing but the carriage lamps flashing on some bare trunk or gaunt skeleton branches.

"Dear Hugh," she whispered, timidly, "how gloomy and strange it looks--just like an enchanted forest."

"They have not thought fit to cut down the trees to give light to your ladyship," observed her husband, laughing at her awe-struck tone.

"Give me your hand, you foolish child; when we have pa.s.sed the next turning you will see the old Hall. There will be light enough there;"

and scarcely had the words pa.s.sed his lips before the Hall burst upon them--a long low range of building, with its many windows brilliantly illuminated and ruddy with firelight, while through the open door the forms of the a.s.sembled servants moved hither and thither in a warm background of light.

"What a lovely old place," cried Fay, breathless with excitement. "I had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, but I shall see it better by daylight to-morrow."

"Yes," he returned, with a sigh, "I shall have plenty to show you, Fay, but now let me help you off with those furs, and lift you out."

Fay shook herself free of the heavy wraps, and then sprung lightly to the ground; and with her head erect like a little queen, stepped over the threshold of her new home with her hand still in her husband's.

The circle of men and women gathered in the great hall, with the housekeeper and gray-haired butler at their head, thrilled with a vague surprise and wonder at the sight of the childish figure beside their master.

"Good evening to you all," said Hugh, trying to speak cheerfully, though there was a huskiness in his pleasant voice that was foreign to it. "You see I have brought home your new mistress at last, Ellerton.

Mrs. Heron," shaking hands with her, "you must give Lady Redmond a hearty welcome."

"Yes, indeed, Sir Hugh," and the stately housekeeper folded her plump hands and looked complacently at the pretty face before her. "A thousand welcomes both to you and her ladyship, Sir Hugh, and a long life and a happy one to you both."

But the housekeeper, as she ended her little speech with an elaborate courtesy, was marveling in her kindly heart what on earth had possessed her master to bring this lovely child to be the mistress of Redmond Hall.

"Thank you, very much," returned Fay, timidly, and her sweet face flushed as she spoke. "I trust we shall soon become good friends. I know how you all love my dear husband, and I hope in time that you will be able to love me too for his sake."

"There can be no doubt of that, I should think, Mrs. Heron," returned Sir Hugh, moved in spite of himself; and at his tone the shy fingers closed more tightly round his. Those who were standing by never forgot Fay's look, when the girl-wife raised her beautiful eyes to her husband's face.

"And now," continued Sir Hugh, "you are very tired, Fay, but our good Mrs. Heron will show you your rooms, that you may rest and refresh yourself after your long journey. This is your maid, I believe,"

turning to a fresh, bright-looking girl behind him; then, as Fay obediently left him, "What time will dinner be served, Ellerton?"

"At a quarter to eight, Sir Hugh."

"Very well; I hope there are lights and a fire in the study."

"Yes, Sir Hugh, and in the damask drawing-room as well." But his master did not seem to hear him, as he walked slowly across the hall on his way to his dressing-room.

CHAPTER XII.

IN THE BLUE NESTIE.

....This perhaps was love-- To have its hands too full of gifts to give For putting out a hand to take a gift, To have so much, the perfect mood of love Includes, in strict conclusion, being loved; As Eden dew went up and fell again, Enough for watering Eden, obviously She had not thought about his love at all.

The cataracts of her soul had poured themselves, And risen self-crown'd in rainbow; would she ask Who crown'd her?--it sufficed that she was crown'd.

E. B. BROWNING.

Redmond Hall was a curious old house; it had been built originally in Gothic style, but an aspiring Redmond, who was ignorant of the laws of architecture and not possessed with the spirit of uniformity, had thrown out windows and added wings that savored strongly of the Tudor style, while here and there a b.u.t.tress or arch was decidedly Norman in its tendency.

To a connoisseur this medley of architecture was a great eye-sore, but to the world in general the very irregularity of the gray old pile added to its picturesque entirety, and somehow the effect was very pleasing.

The various owners of the Hall, holding all modern innovations in abhorrence, had preserved its antiquity as far as possible by restoring the old carvings and frescoes that were its chief ornaments.

The entrance-hall was of n.o.ble dimensions, with a painted ceiling, and a great fire-place surrounded by oaken carvings of fruit and flowers, the work of Gibbon, with the Redmond motto, "Fideles ad urnam," in the center.

The walls were adorned with stags' antlers, and other trophies of the chase, while implements of warfare, from the bow and arrow to the modern revolver, were arranged in geometrical circles round the battered suits of armor.

The dwelling-rooms of the house, with the exception of the drawing-room and billiard-room, were long and low, with the same painted ceilings and heavy oak carvings; and some of the windows, especially in the library and morning-room, were furnished with such deep embrasures, as to form small withdrawing rooms in themselves, and leave the further end of the apartment in twilight obscurity even on the brightest summer's day.

Many people were of opinion that the old Hall needed complete renovation, but Sir Wilfred had cared little for such things. In his father's time a few of the rooms had been modernized and refurnished, the damask drawing-room for example, a handsome billiard-room added, and two or three bedrooms fitted up according to nineteenth century taste.

But Sir Wilfred had preferred the old rooms in the quaint embrasures, where many a fair Redmond dame had worked with her daughters at the tapestry that hung in the green bedroom, which represented the death of Saul and the history of Gideon.

In these rooms was furniture belonging to many a different age.

Carpets and chair-cushions worked in tent st.i.tch and cross st.i.tch and old-fashioned harpsichord; gaudy white and gold furniture of the Louis Quatorze time, mixed with the spindle-legged tables of the Queen Anne epoch.

At the back of the Hall lay a broad stone terrace reaching from one end of the house to the other.

On one side were the stables and kennels, and on the other a walled sunny garden, with fruit trees and a clipped yew-hedge, and a sun-dial, on which a stately race of peac.o.c.ks loved to plume themselves.

Beyond, divided by the yew-hedge, was the herb-garden, where in the olden time many a notable house-mother, with her chintz skirts hustled through her pocket-holes, gathered simples for her medicines, and sweet-smelling lavender and rosemary for her presses of home-spun linen.

These gardens were walled and entered by a curiously wrought iron door, said to be Flemish work; and below the terrace lay a smooth, gently sloping lawn, that stretched to the edge of a large sheet of water, called by courtesy the lake--the whole shut in by the background of the Redmond wood.

Here through the sunny afternoon slept purple shadows, falling aslant the yellow water-lilies, and here underneath the willows and silvery birches, in what was called "The Lover's Walk," had Hugh dreamed many a day-dream, whose beginning and whose end was Margaret.

Poor Hugh! he little thought as he paced that walk that the day should come when his wife should walk there beside him, and look at him with eyes that were not Margaret's.

When Fay, escorted by Mrs. Heron and followed by Janet, had ascended the broad oaken staircase, and pa.s.sed through the long gallery, the housekeeper paused in a recess with four red-baized doors.

"Sir Hugh's dressing-room, my lady," she explained, blandly, "and the next door belongs to Sir Hugh's bathroom, and this," pointing solemnly to the central door, "is the oriel room."

"What," faltered Lady Redmond, rather fearing from Mrs. Heron's manner that this room might be the subject of some ghost story.

"The oriel room," repeated the housekeeper still more impressively, "where the Redmond ladies have always slept. In this room both Sir Wilfred and Sir Hugh were born, and Sir Marmaduke and his sons Percy and Herewald were laid in state after the battle."