The Mistletoe Bough

by Anthony Trollope

The Mistletoe Bough was published in Trollope's Tales of All Countries series.

"Let the boys have it if they like it," said Mrs. Garrow, pleadingto her only daughter on behalf of her two sons."Pray don't, Mamma," said Elizabeth Garrow. "It only means romping.To me all that is detestable, and I am sure it is not the sort ofthing that Miss Holmes would like.""We always had it at Christmas when we were young.""But, Mamma, the world is so changed."The point in dispute was one very delicate in its nature, hardly tobe discussed in all its bearings, even in fiction, and the verymention of which between mother and daughter showed a great amountof close confidence between them. It was no less than this. Shouldthat branch of mistletoe which Frank Garrow had brought home withhim out of the Lowther woods be hung up on Christmas Eve in thedining-room at Thwaite Hall, according to his wishes; or shouldpermission for such hanging be positively refused? It was clearly athing not to be done after such a discussion, and therefore thedecision given by Mrs. Garrow was against it.I am inclined to think that Miss Garrow was right in saying that theworld is changed as touching mistletoe boughs. Kissing, I fear, isless innocent now than it used to be when our grand-mothers werealive, and we have become more fastidious in our amusements.Nevertheless, I think that she made herself fairly open to theraillery with which her brothers attacked her."Honi soit qui mal y pense," said Frank, who was eighteen."Nobody will want to kiss you, my lady Fineairs," said Harry, whowas just a year younger."Because you choose to be a Puritan, there are to be no more cakesand ale in the house," said Frank."Still waters run deep; we all know that," said Harry.The boys had not been present when the matter was decided betweenMrs. Garrow and her daughter, nor had the mother been present whenthese little amenities had passed between the brothers and sister."Only that Mamma has said it, and I wouldn't seem to go againsther," said Frank, "I'd ask my father. He wouldn't give way to suchnonsense, I know."Elizabeth turned away without answering, and left the room. Hereyes were full of tears, but she would not let them see that theyhad vexed her. They were only two days home from school, and forthe last week before their coming, all her thoughts had been toprepare for their Christmas pleasures. She had arranged theirrooms, making everything warm and pretty. Out of her own pocket shehad bought a shot-belt for one, and skates for the other. She hadtold the old groom that her pony was to belong exclusively to MasterHarry for the holidays, and now Harry told her that still waters randeep. She had been driven to the use of all her eloquence ininducing her father to purchase that gun for Frank, and now Frankcalled her a Puritan. And why? She did not choose that a mistletoebough should be hung in her father's hall, when Godfrey Holmes wascoming to visit him. She could not explain this to Frank, but Frankmight have had the wit to understand it. But Frank was thinkingonly of Patty Coverdale, a blue-eyed little romp of sixteen, who,with her sister Kate, was coming from Penrith to spend the Christmasat Thwaite Hall. Elizabeth left the room with her slow, gracefulstep, hiding her tears,--hiding all emotion, as latterly she hadtaught herself that it was feminine to do. "There goes my ladyFineairs," said Harry, sending his shrill voice after her.Thwaite Hall was not a place of much pretension. It was a moderate-sized house, surrounded by pretty gardens and shrubberies, closedown upon the river Eamont, on the Westmoreland side of the river,looking over to a lovely wooded bank in Cumberland. All the worldknows that the Eamont runs out of Ulleswater, dividing the twocounties, passing under Penrith Bridge and by the old ruins ofBrougham Castle, below which it joins the Eden. Thwaite Hallnestled down close upon the clear rocky stream about half waybetween Ulleswater and Penrith, and had been built just at a bend ofthe river. The windows of the dining-parlour and of the drawing-room stood at right angles to each other, and yet each commanded areach of the stream. Immediately from a side of the house stepswere cut down through the red rock to the water's edge, and here asmall boat was always moored to a chain. The chain was stretchedacross the river, fixed to the staples driven into the rock oneither side, and the boat was pulled backwards and forwards over thestream without aid from oars or paddles. From the opposite side apath led through the woods and across the fields to Penrith, andthis was the route commonly used between Thwaite Hall and the town.Major Garrow was a retired officer of Engineers, who had seenservice in all parts of the world, and who was now spending theevening of his days on a small property which had come to him fromhis father. He held in his own hands about twenty acres of land,and he was the owner of one small farm close by, which was let to atenant. That, together with his half-pay, and the interest of hiswife's thousand pounds, sufficed to educate his children and keepthe wolf at a comfortable distance from his door. He himself was aspare thin man, with quiet, lazy, literary habits. He had done thework of life, but had so done it as to permit of his enjoying thatwhich was left to him. His sole remaining care was theestablishment of his children; and, as far as he could see, he hadno ground for anticipating disappointment. They were clever, good-looking, well-disposed young people, and upon the whole it may besaid that the sun shone brightly on Thwaite Hall. Of Mrs. Garrow itmay suffice to say that she always deserved such sunshine.For years past it had been the practice of the family to have somesort of gathering at Thwaite Hall during Christmas. Godfrey Holmeshad been left under the guardianship of Major Garrow, and, as he hadalways spent his Christmas holidays with his guardian, this,perhaps, had given rise to the practice. Then the Coverdales werecousins of the Garrows, and they had usually been there as children.At the Christmas last past the custom had been broken, for youngHolmes had been abroad. Previous to that, they had all beenchildren, excepting him. But now that they were to meet again, theywere no longer children. Elizabeth, at any rate, was not so, forshe had already counted nineteen winters. And Isabella Holmes wascoming. Now Isabella was two years older than Elizabeth, and hadbeen educated in Brussels; moreover she was comparatively a strangerat Thwaite Hall, never having been at those early Christmasmeetings.And now I must take permission to begin my story by telling a lady'ssecret. Elizabeth Garrow had already been in love with GodfreyHolmes, or perhaps it might be more becoming to say that GodfreyHolmes had already been in love with her. They had already beenengaged; and, alas! they had already agreed that that engagementshould be broken off!Young Holmes was now twenty-seven years of age, and was employed ina bank at Liverpool, not as a clerk, but as assistant-manager, witha large salary. He was a man well to do in the world, who had moneyalso of his own, and who might well afford to marry. Some two yearssince, on the eve of leaving Thwaite Hall, he had with low doubtingwhisper told Elizabeth that he loved her, and she had flowntrembling to her mother. "Godfrey, my boy," the father said to him,as he parted with him the next morning, "Bessy is only a child, andtoo young to think of this yet." At the next Christmas Godfrey wasin Italy, and the thing was gone by,--so at least the father andmother said to each other. But the young people had met in thesummer, and one joyful letter had come from the girl home to hermother. "I have accepted him. Dearest, dearest Mamma, I do lovehim. But don't tell papa yet, for I have not quite accepted him. Ithink I am sure, but I am not quite sure. I am not quite sure abouthim."And then, two days after that, there had come a letter that was notat all joyful. "Dearest Mamma, it is not to be. It is not writtenin the book. We have both agreed that it will not do. I am so gladthat you have not told dear papa, for I could never make himunderstand. You will understand, for I shall tell you everything,down to his very words. But we have agreed that there shall be noquarrel. It shall be exactly as it was, and he will come atChristmas all the same. It would never do that he and papa shouldbe separated, nor could we now put off Isabella. It is better so inevery way, for there is and need be no quarrel. We still like eachother. I am sure I like him, but I know that I should not make himhappy as his wife. He says it is my fault. I, at any rate, havenever told him that I thought it his." From all which it will beseen that the confidence between the mother and daughter was veryclose.Elizabeth Garrow was a very good girl, but it might almost be aquestion whether she was not too good. She had learned, or thoughtthat she had learned, that most girls are vapid, silly, anduseless,--given chiefly to pleasure-seeking and a hankering afterlovers; and she had resolved that she would not be such a one.Industry, self-denial, and a religious purpose in life, were thetasks which she set herself; and she went about the performance ofthem with much courage. But such tasks, though they are excellentlywell adapted to fit a young lady for the work of living, may also becarried too far, and thus have the effect of unfitting her for thatwork. When Elizabeth Garrow made up her mind that the finding of ahusband was not the only purpose of life, she did very well. It isvery well that a young lady should feel herself capable of goingthrough the world happily without one. But in teaching herself thisshe also taught herself to think that there was a certain merit inrefusing herself the natural delight of a lover, even though thepossession of the lover were compatible with all her duties toherself, her father and mother, and the world at large. It was notthat she had determined to have no lover. She made no such resolve,and when the proper lover came he was admitted to her heart. Butshe declared to herself unconsciously that she must put a guard uponherself, lest she should be betrayed into weakness by her ownhappiness. She had resolved that in loving her lord she would notworship him, and that in giving her heart she would only so give itas it should be given to a human creature like herself. She hadacted on these high resolves, and hence it had come to pass,--notunnaturally,--that Mr. Godfrey Holmes had told her that it was "herfault."She was a pretty, fair girl, with soft dark-brown hair, and softlong dark eyelashes. Her grey eyes, though quiet in their tone,were tender and lustrous. Her face was oval, and the lines of hercheek and chin perfect in their symmetry. She was generally quietin her demeanour, but when moved she could rouse herself to greatenergy, and speak with feeling and almost with fire. Her fault wasa reverence for martyrdom in general, and a feeling, of which shewas unconscious, that it became a young woman to be unhappy insecret;--that it became a young woman, I might rather say, to have asource of unhappiness hidden from the world in general, and enduredwithout any detriment to her outward cheerfulness. We know thestory of the Spartan boy who held the fox under his tunic. The foxwas biting into him,--into the very entrails; but the young herospake never a word. Now Bessy Garrow was inclined to think that itwas a good thing to have a fox always biting, so that the tormentcaused no ruffling to her outward smiles. Now at this moment thefox within her bosom was biting her sore enough, but she bore itwithout flinching."If you would rather that he should not come I will have itarranged," her mother had said to her."Not for worlds," she had answered. "I should never think well ofmyself again."Her mother had changed her own mind more than once as to the conductin this matter which might be best for her to follow, thinkingsolely of her daughter's welfare. "If he comes they will bereconciled, and she will be happy," had been her first idea. Butthen there was a stern fixedness of purpose in Bessy's words whenshe spoke of Mr. Holmes, which had expelled this hope, and Mrs.Garrow had for a while thought it better that the young man shouldnot come. But Bessy would not permit this. It would vex herfather, put out of course the arrangements of other people, anddisplay weakness on her own part. He should come, and she wouldendure without flinching while the fox gnawed at her.That battle of the mistletoe had been fought on the morning beforeChristmas-day, and the Holmeses came on Christmas-eve. Isabella wascomparatively a stranger, and therefore received at first thegreater share of attention. She and Elizabeth had once seen eachother, and for the last year or two had corresponded, but personallythey had never been intimate. Unfortunately for the latter, thatstory of Godfrey's offer and acceptance had been communicated toIsabella, as had of course the immediately subsequent story of theirseparation. But now it would be almost impossible to avoid thesubject in conversation. "Dearest Isabella, let it be as though ithad never been," she had said in one of her letters. But sometimesit is very difficult to let things be as though they had never been.The first evening passed over very well. The two Coverdale girlswere there, and there had been much talking and merry laughter,rather juvenile in its nature, but on the whole none the worse forthat. Isabella Holmes was a fine, tall, handsome girl; good-humoured, and well disposed to be pleased; rather Frenchified in hermanners, and quite able to take care of herself. But she was notabove round games, and did not turn up her nose at the boys.Godfrey behaved himself excellently, talking much to the Major, butby no means avoiding Miss Garrow. Mrs. Garrow, though she had knownhim since he was a boy, had taken an aversion to him since he hadquarrelled with her daughter; but there was no room on this firstnight for showing such aversion, and everything went off well."Godfrey is very much improved," the Major said to his wife thatnight."Do you think so?""Indeed I do. He has filled out and become a fine man.""In personal appearance, you mean. Yes, he is well-looking enough.""And in his manner, too. He is doing uncommonly well in Liverpool,I can tell you; and if he should think of Bessy--""There is nothing of that sort," said Mrs. Garrow."He did speak to me, you know,--two years ago. Bessy was too youngthen, and so indeed was he. But if she likes him--""I don't think she does.""Then there's an end of it." And so they went to bed."Frank," said the sister to her elder brother, knocking at his doorwhen they had all gone up stairs, "may I come in,--if you are not inbed?""In bed," said he, looking up with some little pride from his Greekbook; "I've one hundred and fifty lines to do before I can get tobed. It'll be two, I suppose. I've got to mug uncommon hard theseholidays. I have only one more half, you know, and then--""Don't overdo it, Frank.""No; I won't overdo it. I mean to take one day a week, and workeight hours a day on the other five. That will be forty hours aweek, and will give me just two hundred hours for the holidays. Ihave got it all down here on a table. That will be a hundred andfive for Greek play, forty for Algebra--" and so he explained to herthe exact destiny of all his long hours of proposed labour. He hadas yet been home a day and a half, and had succeeded in drawing outwith red lines and blue figures the table which he showed her. "IfI can do that, it will be pretty well; won't it?""But, Frank, you have come home for your holidays,--to enjoyyourself?""But a fellow must work now-a-days.""Don't overdo it, dear; that's all. But, Frank, I could not rest ifI went to bed without speaking to you. You made me unhappy to-day.""Did I, Bessy?""You called me a Puritan, and then you quoted that ill-naturedFrench proverb at me. Do you really believe your sister thinksevil, Frank?" and as she spoke she put her arm caressingly round hisneck."Of course I don't.""Then why say so? Harry is so much younger and so thoughtless thatI can bear what he says without so much suffering. But if you and Iare not friends I shall be very wretched. If you knew how I havelooked forward to your coming home!""I did not mean to vex you, and I won't say such things again.""That's my own Frank. What I said to Mamma, I said because Ithought it right; but you must not say that I am a Puritan. I woulddo anything in my power to make your holidays bright and pleasant.I know that boys require so much more to amuse them than girls do.Good night, dearest; pray don't overdo yourself with work, and dotake care of your eyes."So saying she kissed him and went her way. In twenty minutes afterthat, he had gone to sleep over his book; and when he woke up tofind the candle guttering down, he resolved that he would not beginhis measured hours till Christmas-day was fairly over.The morning of Christmas-day passed very quietly. They all went tochurch, and then sat round the fire chatting until the four o'clockdinner was ready. The Coverdale girls thought it was rather moredull than former Thwaite Hall festivities, and Frank was seen toyawn. But then everybody knows that the real fun of Christmas neverbegins till the day itself be passed. The beef and pudding areponderous, and unless there be absolute children in the party, thereis a difficulty in grafting any special afternoon amusements on theSunday pursuits of the morning. In the evening they were to have adance; that had been distinctly promised to Patty Coverdale; but thedance would not commence till eight. The beef and pudding wereponderous, but with due efforts they were overcome and disappeared.The glass of port was sipped, the almonds and raisins were nibbled,and then the ladies left the room. Ten minutes after that Elizabethfound herself seated with Isabella Holmes over the fire in herfather's little book-room. It was not by her that this meeting wasarranged, for she dreaded such a constrained confidence; but ofcourse it could not be avoided, and perhaps it might be as well nowas hereafter."Bessy," said the elder girl, "I am dying to be alone with you for amoment.""Well, you shall not die; that is, if being alone with me will saveyou.""I have so much to say to you. And if you have any true friendshipin you, you also will have so much to say to me."Miss Garrow perhaps had no true friendship in her at that moment,for she would gladly have avoided saying anything, had that beenpossible. But in order to prove that she was not deficient infriendship, she gave her friend her hand."And now tell me everything about Godfrey," said Isabella."Dear Bella, I have nothing to tell;--literally nothing.""That is nonsense. Stop a moment, dear, and understand that I donot mean to offend you. It cannot be that you have nothing to tell,if you choose to tell it. You are not the girl to have acceptedGodfrey without loving him, nor is he the man to have asked youwithout loving you. When you write me word that you have changedyour mind, as you might about a dress, of course I know you have nottold me all. Now I insist upon knowing it,--that is, if we are tobe friends. I would not speak a word to Godfrey till I had seenyou, in order that I might hear your story first.""Indeed, Bella, there is no story to tell.""Then I must ask him.""If you wish to play the part of a true friend to me, you will letthe matter pass by and say nothing. You must understand that,circumstanced as we are, your brother's visit here,--what I mean is,that it is very difficult for me to act and speak exactly as Ishould do, and a few unfortunate words spoken may make my positionunendurable.""Will you answer me one question?""I cannot tell. I think I will.""Do you love him?" For a moment or two Bessy remained silent,striving to arrange her words so that they should contain nofalsehood, and yet betray no truth. "Ah, I see you do," continuedMiss Holmes. "But of course you do. Why else did you accept him?""I fancied that I did, as young ladies do sometimes fancy.""And will you say that you do not, now?" Again Bessy was silent,and then her friend rose from her seat. "I see it all," she said."What a pity it was that you both had not some friend like me by youat the time! But perhaps it may not be too late."I need not repeat at length all the protestations which upon thiswere poured forth with hot energy by poor Bessy. She endeavoured toexplain how great had been the difficulty of her position. ThisChristmas visit had been arranged before that unhappy affair atLiverpool had occurred. Isabella's visit had been partly one ofbusiness, it being necessary that certain money affairs should bearranged between her, her brother, and the Major. "I determined,"said Bessy, "not to let my feelings stand in the way; and hoped thatthings might settle down to their former friendly footing. Ialready fear that I have been wrong, but it will be ungenerous inyou to punish me." Then she went on to say that if anybodyattempted to interfere with her, she should at once go away to hermother's sister, who lived at Hexham, in Northumberland.Then came the dance, and the hearts of Kate and Patty Coverdale wereat last happy. But here again poor Bessy was made to understand howterribly difficult was this experiment of entertaining on a footingof friendship a lover with whom she had quarrelled only a month ortwo before. That she must as a necessity become the partner ofGodfrey Holmes she had already calculated, and so much she wasprepared to endure. Her brothers would of course dance with theCoverdale girls, and her father would of course stand up withIsabella. There was no other possible arrangement, at any rate as abeginning.She had schooled herself, too, as to the way in which she wouldspeak to him on the occasion, and how she would remain mistress ofherself and of her thoughts. But when the time came the difficultywas almost too much for her."You do not care much for dancing, if I remember?" said he."Oh yes, I do. Not as Patty Coverdale does. It's a passion withher. But then I am older than Patty Coverdale." After that he wassilent for a minute or two."It seems so odd to me to be here again," he said. It was odd;--shefelt that it was odd. But he ought not to have said so."Two years make a great difference. The boys have grown so much.""Yes, and there are other things," said he."Bella was never here before; at least not with you.""No. But I did not exactly mean that. All that would not make theplace so strange. But your mother seems altered to me. She used tobe almost like my own mother.""I suppose she finds that you are a more formidable person as yougrow older. It was all very well scolding you when you were a clerkin the bank, but it does not do to scold the manager. These are thepenalties men pay for becoming great.""It is not my greatness that stands in my way, but--""Then I'm sure I cannot say what it is. But Patty will scold you ifyou do not mind the figure, though you were the whole Board ofDirectors packed into one. She won't respect you if you neglectyour present work."When Bessy went to bed that night she began to feel that she hadattempted too much. "Mamma," she said, "could I not make someexcuse and go away to Aunt Mary?""What now?""Yes, Mamma; now; to-morrow. I need not say that it will make mevery unhappy to be away at such a time, but I begin to think that itwill be better.""What will papa say?""You must tell him all.""And Aunt Mary must be told also. You would not like that. Has hesaid anything?""No, nothing;--very little, that is. But Bella has spoken to me.Oh, Mamma, I think we have been very wrong in this. That is, I havebeen wrong. I feel as though I should disgrace myself, and turn thewhole party here into a misfortune."It would be dreadful, that telling of the story to her father and toher aunt, and such a necessity must, if possible, be avoided.Should such a necessity actually come, the former task would, nodoubt, be done by her mother, but that would not lighten the loadmaterially. After a fortnight she would again meet her father, andwould be forced to discuss it. "I will remain if it be possible,"she said; "but, Mamma, if I wish to go, you will not stop me?" Hermother promised that she would not stop her, but strongly advisedher to stand her ground.On the following morning, when she came down stairs beforebreakfast, she found Frank standing in the hall with his gun, ofwhich he was trying the lock. "It is not loaded, is it, Frank?"said she."Oh dear, no; no one thinks of loading now-a-days till he has gotout of the house. Directly after breakfast I am going across withGodfrey to the back of Greystock, to see after some moor-fowl. Heasked me to go, and I couldn't well refuse.""Of course not. Why should you?""It will be deuced hard work to make up the time. I was to havebeen up at four this morning, but that alarm went off and neverwoke me. However, I shall be able to do something to-night.""Don't make a slavery of your holidays, Frank. What's the good ofhaving a new gun if you're not to use it?""It's not the new gun. I'm not such a child as that comes to. But,you see, Godfrey is here, and one ought to be civil to him. I'lltell you what I want you girls to do, Bessy. You must come and meetus on our way home. Come over in the boat and along the path to thePatterdale road. We'll be there under the hill about five.""And if you are not, we are to wait in the snow?""Don't make difficulties, Bessy. I tell you we will be there. Weare to go in the cart, and so shall have plenty of time.""And how do you know the other girls will go?""Why, to tell you the truth, Patty Coverdale has promised. As forMiss Holmes, if she won't, why you must leave her at home withMamma. But Kate and Patty can't come without you.""Your discretion has found that out, has it?""They say so. But you will come; won't you, Bessy? As for waiting,it's all nonsense. Of course you can walk on. But we'll be at thestile by five. I've got my watch, you know." And then Bessypromised him. What would she not have done for him that was in herpower to do?"Go! Of course I'll go," said Miss Holmes. "I'm up to anything.I'd have gone with them this morning, and have taken a gun if they'dasked me. But, by-the-bye, I'd better not.""Why not?" said Patty, who was hardly yet without fear lestsomething should mar the expedition."What will three gentlemen do with four ladies?""Oh, I forgot," said Patty innocently."I'm sure I don't care," said Kate; "you may have Harry if youlike.""Thank you for nothing," said Miss Holmes. "I want one for myself.It's all very well for you to make the offer, but what should I doif Harry wouldn't have me? There are two sides, you know, to everybargain.""I'm sure he isn't anything to me," said Kate. "Why, he's not quiteseventeen years old yet!""Poor boy! What a shame to dispose of him so soon. We'll let himoff for a year or two; won't we, Miss Coverdale? But as there seemsby acknowledgment to be one beau with unappropriated services--""I'm sure I have appropriated nobody," said Patty, "and didn'tintend.""Godfrey, then, is the only knight whose services are claimed," saidMiss Holmes, looking at Bessy. Bessy made no immediate answer witheither her eyes or tongue; but when the Coverdales were gone, shetook her new friend to task."How can you fill those young girls' heads with such nonsense?""Nature has done that, my dear.""But nature should be trained; should it not? You will make themthink that those foolish boys are in love with them.""The foolish boys, as you call them, will look after thatthemselves. It seems to me that the foolish boys know what they areabout better than some of their elders." And then, after a moment'spause, she added, "As for my brother, I have no patience with him.""Pray do not discuss your brother," said Bessy. "And, Bella, unlessyou wish to drive me away, pray do not speak of him and me togetheras you did just now.""Are you so bad as that,--that the slightest commonplace joke upsetsyou? Would not his services be due to you as a matter of course?If you are so sore about it, you will betray your own secret.""I have no secret,--none at least from you, or from Mamma; and,indeed, none from him. We were both very foolish, thinking that weknew each other and our own hearts, when we knew neither.""I hate to hear people talk of knowing their hearts. My idea is,that if you like a young man, and he asks you to marry him, youought to have him. That is, if there is enough to live on. I don'tknow what more is wanted. But girls are getting to talk and thinkas though they were to send their hearts through some fiery furnaceof trial before they may give them up to a husband's keeping. I amnot at all sure that the French fashion is not the best, and thatthese things shouldn't be managed by the fathers and mothers, orperhaps by the family lawyers. Girls who are so intent upon knowingtheir own hearts generally end by knowing nobody's heart but theirown; and then they die old maids.""Better that than give themselves to the keeping of those they don'tknow and cannot esteem.""That's a matter of taste. I mean to take the first that comes, solong as he looks like a gentleman, and has not less than eighthundred a year. Now Godfrey does look like a gentleman, and hasdouble that. If I had such a chance I shouldn't think twice aboutit.""But I have no such chance.""That's the way the wind blows; is it?""No, no. Oh, Bella, pray, pray leave me alone. Pray do notinterfere. There is no wind blowing in any way. All that I want isyour silence and your sympathy.""Very well. I will be silent and sympathetic as the grave. Onlydon't imagine that I am cold as the grave also. I don't exactlyappreciate your ideas; but if I can do no good, I will at any rateendeavour to do no harm."After lunch, at about three, they started on their walk, and managedto ferry themselves over the river. "Oh, do let me, Bessy," saidKate Coverdale. "I understand all about it. Look here, MissHolmes. You pull the chain through your hands--""And inevitably tear your gloves to pieces," said Miss Holmes. Katecertainly had done so, and did not seem to be particularly wellpleased with the accident. "There's a nasty nail in the chain," shesaid. "I wonder those stupid boys did not tell us."Of course they reached the trysting-place much too soon, and werevery tired of walking up and down to keep their feet warm, beforethe sportsmen came up. But this was their own fault, seeing thatthey had reached the stile half an hour before the time fixed."I never will go anywhere to meet gentlemen again," said MissHolmes. "It is most preposterous that ladies should be left in thesnow for an hour. Well, young men, what sport have you had?""I shot the big black cock," said Harry."Did you indeed?" said Kate Coverdale."And here are the feathers out of his tail for you. He dropped themin the water, and I had to go in after them up to my middle. But Itold you that I would, so I was determined to get them.""Oh, you silly, silly boy," said Kate. "But I'll keep them forever. I will indeed." This was said a little apart, for Harry hadmanaged to draw the young lady aside before he presented thefeathers.Frank had also his trophies for Patty, and the tale to tell of hisown prowess. In that he was a year older than his brother, he wasby a year's growth less ready to tender his present to his lady-love, openly in the presence of them all. But he found hisopportunity, and then he and Patty went on a little in advance.Kate also was deep in her consolations to Harry for his ducking; andtherefore the four disposed of themselves in the manner previouslysuggested by Miss Holmes. Miss Holmes, therefore, and her brother,and Bessy Garrow, were left together in the path, and discussed theperformances of the day in a manner that elicited no very ecstaticinterest. So they walked for a mile, and by degrees theconversation between them dwindled down almost to nothing."There is nothing I dislike so much as coming out with peopleyounger than myself," said Miss Holmes. "One always feels so oldand dull. Listen to those children there; they make me feel asthough I were an old maiden aunt, brought out with them to dopropriety.""Patty won't at all approve if she hears you call her a child.""Nor shall I approve, if she treats me like an old woman," and thenshe stepped on and joined the children. "I wouldn't spoil eventheir sport if I could help it," she said to herself. "But withthem I shall only be a temporary nuisance; if I remain behind Ishall become a permanent evil." And thus Bessy and her old loverwere left by themselves."I hope you will get on well with Bella," said Godfrey, when theyhad remained silent for a minute or two."Oh, yes. She is so good-natured and light-spirited that everybodymust like her. She has been used to so much amusement and activelife, that I know she must find it very dull here.""She is never dull anywhere,--even at Liverpool, which, for a younglady, I sometimes think the dullest place on earth. I know it isfor a man.""A man who has work to do can never be dull; can he?""Indeed he can; as dull as death. I am so often enough. I havenever been very bright there, Bessy, since you left us."There was nothing in his calling her Bessy, for it had become ahabit with him since they were children; and they had formerlyagreed that everything between them should be as it had been beforethat foolish whisper of love had been spoken and received. Indeed,provision had been made by them specially on this point, so thatthere need be no awkwardness in this mode of addressing each other.Such provision had seemed to be very prudent, but it hardly had thedesired effect on the present occasion."I hardly know what you mean by brightness," she said, after apause. "Perhaps it is not intended that people's lives should bewhat you call bright.""Life ought to be as bright as we can make it.""It all depends on the meaning of the word. I suppose we are notvery bright here at Thwaite Hall, but yet we think ourselves veryhappy.""I am sure you are," said Godfrey. "I very often think of youhere.""We always think of places where we have been when we were young,"said Bessy; and then again they walked on for some way in silence,and Bessy began to increase her pace with the view of catching thechildren. The present walk to her was anything but bright, and shebethought herself with dismay that there were still two miles beforeshe reached the Ferry."Bessy," Godfrey said at last. And then he stopped as though hewere doubtful how to proceed. She, however, did not say a word, butwalked on quickly, as though her only hope was in catching the partybefore her. But they also were walking quickly, for Bella wasdetermined that she would not be caught."Bessy, I must speak to you once of what passed between us atLiverpool.""Must you?" said she."Unless you positively forbid it.""Stop, Godfrey," she said. And they did stop in the path, for nowshe no longer thought of putting an end to her embarrassment byovertaking her companions. "If any such words are necessary foryour comfort, it would hardly become me to forbid them. Were I tospeak so harshly you would accuse me afterwards in your own heart.It must be for you to judge whether it is well to reopen a woundthat is nearly healed.""But with me it is not nearly healed. The wound is open always.""There are some hurts," she said, "which do not admit of an absoluteand perfect cure, unless after long years." As she said so, shecould not but think how much better was his chance of such perfectcure than her own. With her,--so she said to herself,--such curingwas all but impossible; whereas with him, it was as impossible thatthe injury should last."Bessy," he said, and he again stopped her on the narrow path,standing immediately before her on the way, "you remember all thecircumstances that made us part?""Yes; I think I remember them.""And you still think that we were right to part?"She paused for a moment before she answered him; but it was only fora moment, and then she spoke quite firmly. "Yes, Godfrey, I do; Ihave thought about it much since then. I have thought, I fear, tono good purpose about aught else. But I have never thought that wehad been unwise in that.""And yet I think you loved me.""I am bound to confess I did so, as otherwise I must confess myselfa liar. I told you at the time that I loved you, and I told you sotruly. But it is better, ten times better, that those who loveshould part, even though they still should love, than that twoshould be joined together who are incapable of making each otherhappy. Remember what you told me.""I do remember.""You found yourself unhappy in your engagement, and you said it wasmy fault.""Bessy, there is my hand. If you have ceased to love me, there isan end of it. But if you love me still, let all that be forgotten.""Forgotten, Godfrey! How can it be forgotten? You were unhappy,and it was my fault. My fault, as it would be if I tried to solacea sick child with arithmetic, or feed a dog with grass. I had noright to love you, knowing you as I did; and knowing also that myways would not be your ways. My punishment I understand, and it isnot more than I can bear; but I had hoped that your punishment wouldhave been soon over.""You are too proud, Bessy.""That is very likely. Frank says that I am a Puritan, and pride wasthe worst of their sins.""Too proud and unbending. In marriage should not the man and womanadapt themselves to each other?""When they are married, yes. And every girl who thinks of marryingshould know that in very much she must adapt herself to her husband.But I do not think that a woman should be the ivy, to take thedirection of every branch of the tree to which she clings. If shedoes so, what can be her own character? But we must go on, or weshall be too late.""And you will give me no other answer?""None other, Godfrey. Have you not just now, at this very moment,told me that I was too proud? Can it be possible that you shouldwish to tie yourself for life to female pride? And if you tell methat now, at such a moment as this, what would you tell me in theclose intimacy of married life, when the trifles of every day wouldhave worn away the courtesies of guest and lover?"There was a sharpness of rebuke in this which Godfrey Holmes couldnot at the moment overcome. Nevertheless he knew the girl, andunderstood the workings of her heart and mind. Now, in her presentstate, she could be unbending, proud, and almost rough. In that shehad much to lose in declining the renewed offer which he made her,she would, as it were, continually prompt herself to be harsh andinflexible. Had he been poor, had she not loved him, had not allgood things seemed to have attended the promise of such a marriage,she would have been less suspicious of herself in receiving theoffer, and more gracious in replying to it. Had he lost all hismoney before he came back to her, she would have taken him at once;or had he been deprived of an eye, or become crippled in his legs,she would have done so. But, circumstanced as he was, she had nomotive to tenderness. There was an organic defect in her character,which no doubt was plainly marked by its own bump in her cranium,--the bump of philomartyrdom, it might properly be called. She hadshipwrecked her own happiness in rejecting Godfrey Holmes; but itseemed to her to be the proper thing that a well-behaved young ladyshould shipwreck her own happiness. For the last month or two shehad been tossed about by the waters and was nearly drowned. Nowthere was beautiful land again close to her, and a strong pleasanthand stretched out to save her. But though she had sufferedterribly among the waves, she still thought it wrong to be saved.It would be so pleasant to take that hand, so sweet, so joyous, thatit surely must be wrong. That was her doctrine; and Godfrey Holmes,though he hardly analysed the matter, partly understood that it wasso. And yet, if once she were landed on that green island, shewould be so happy. She spoke with scorn of a woman clinging to atree like ivy; and yet, were she once married, no woman would clingto her husband with sweeter feminine tenacity than Bessy Garrow. Hespoke no further word to her as he walked home, but in handing herdown to the ferry-boat he pressed her hand. For a second it seemedas though she had returned this pressure. If so, the action wasinvoluntary, and her hand instantly resumed its stiffness to histouch.It was late that night when Major Garrow went to his bedroom, buthis wife was still up, waiting for him. "Well," said she, "what hashe said to you? He has been with you above an hour.""Such stories are not very quickly told; and in this case it wasnecessary to understand him very accurately. At length I think I dounderstand him."It is not necessary to repeat at length all that was said on thatnight between Major and Mrs. Garrow, as to the offer which had nowfor a third time been made to their daughter. On that evening,after the ladies had gone, and when the two boys had takenthemselves off, Godfrey Holmes told his tale to his host, and hadhonestly explained to him what he believed to be the state of hisdaughter's feelings. "Now you know all," said he. "I do believethat she loves me, and if she does, perhaps she may still listen toyou." Major Garrow did not feel sure that he "knew it all." Butwhen he had fully discussed the matter that night with his wife,then he thought that perhaps he had arrived at that knowledge.On the following morning Bessy learned from the maid, at an earlyhour, that Godfrey Holmes had left Thwaite Hall and gone back toLiverpool. To the girl she said nothing on the subject, but shefelt obliged to say a word or two to Bella. "It is his coming thatI regret," she said;--"that he should have had the trouble andannoyance for nothing. I acknowledge that it was my fault, and I amvery sorry.""It cannot be helped," said Miss Holmes, somewhat gravely. "As tohis misfortunes, I presume that his journeys between here andLiverpool are not the worst of them."After breakfast on that day Bessy was summoned into her father'sbook-room, and found him there, and her mother also. "Bessy," saidhe, "sit down, my dear. You know why Godfrey has left us thismorning?"Bessy walked round the room, so that in sitting she might be closeto her mother and take her mother's hand in her own. "I suppose Ido, papa," she said."He was with me late last night, Bessy; and when he told me what hadpassed between you I agreed with him that he had better go.""It was better that he should go, papa.""But he has left a message for you.""A message, papa?""Yes, Bessy. And your mother agrees with me that it had better begiven to you. It is this,--that if you will send him word to comeagain, he will be here by Twelfth-night. He came before on myinvitation, but if he returns it must be on yours.""Oh, papa, I cannot.""I do not say that you can, but think of it calmly before youaltogether refuse. You shall give me your answer on New Year'smorning.""Mamma knows that it would be impossible," said Bessy."Not impossible, dearest.""In such a matter you should do what you believe to be right," saidher father."If I were to ask him here again, it would be telling him that Iwould--""Exactly, Bessy. It would be telling him that you would be hiswife. He would understand it so, and so would your mother and I.It must be so understood altogether.""But, papa, when we were at Liverpool--""I have told him everything, dearest," said Mrs. Garrow."I think I understand the whole," said the Major; "and in such amatter as this I will not give you counsel on either side. But youmust remember that in making up your mind, you must think of him aswell as of yourself. If you do not love him;--if you feel that ashis wife you should not love him, there is not another word to besaid. I need not explain to my daughter that under suchcircumstances she would be wrong to encourage the visits of asuitor. But your mother says you do love him.""I will not ask you. But if you do;--if you have so told him, andallowed him to build up an idea of his life-happiness on suchtelling, you will, I think, sin greatly against him by allowing afalse feminine pride to mar his happiness. When once a girl hasconfessed to a man that she loves him, the confession and the lovetogether put upon her the burden of a duty towards him, which shecannot with impunity throw aside." Then he kissed her, and biddingher give him a reply on the morning of the new year, left her withher mother.She had four days for consideration, and they went past her by nomeans easily. Could she have been alone with her mother, thestruggle would not have been so painful; but there was the necessitythat she should talk to Isabella Holmes, and the necessity also thatshe should not neglect the Coverdales. Nothing could have beenkinder than Bella. She did not speak on the subject till themorning of the last day, and then only in a very few words."Bessy," she said, "as you are great, be merciful.""But I am not great, and it would not be mercy.""As to that," said Bella, "he has surely a right to his ownopinion."On that evening she was sitting alone in her room when her mothercame to her, and her eyes were red with weeping. Pen and paper werebefore her, as though she were resolved to write, but hitherto noword had been written."Well, Bessy," said her mother, sitting down close beside her; "isthe deed done?""What deed, Mamma? Who says that I am to do it?""The deed is not the writing, but the resolution to write. Fivewords will be sufficient,--if only those five words may be written.""It is for one's whole life, Mamma. For his life, as well as myown.""True, Bessy;--that is quite true. But equally true whether you bidhim come or allow him to remain away. That task of making up one'smind for life, must at last be done in some special moment of thatlife.""Mamma, Mamma; tell me what I should do."But this Mrs. Garrow would not do. "I will write the words for youif you like," she said, "but it is you who must resolve that theyshall be written. I cannot bid my darling go away and leave me foranother home;--I can only say that in my heart I do believe thathome would be a happy one."It was morning before the note was written, but when the morningcame Bessy had written it and brought it to her mother."You must take it to papa," she said. Then she went and hid herselffrom all eyes till the noon had passed. "Dear Godfrey," the letterran, "Papa says that you will return on Wednesday if I write to askyou. Do come back to us,--if you wish it. Yours always, Bessy.""It is as good as though she had filled the sheet," said the Major.But in sending it to Godfrey Holmes, he did not omit a fewaccompanying remarks of his own.An answer came from Godfrey by return of post; and on the afternoonof the sixth of January, Frank Garrow drove over to the station atPenrith to meet him. On their way back to Thwaite Hall there grewup a very close confidence between the two future brothers-in-law,and Frank explained with great perspicuity a little plan which hehad arranged himself. "As soon as it is dark, so that she won't seeit, Harry will hang it up in the dining-room," he said, "and mindyou go in there before you go anywhere else.""I am very glad you have come back, Godfrey," said the Major,meeting him in the hall."God bless you, dear Godfrey," said Mrs. Garrow, "you will findBessy in the dining-room," she whispered; but in so whispering shewas quite unconscious of the mistletoe bough.And so also was Bessy, nor do I think that she was much moreconscious when that introduction was over. Godfrey had made allmanner of promises to Frank, but when the moment arrived, he hadfound the moment too important for any special reference to thelittle bough above his head. Not so, however, Patty Coverdale."It's a shame," said she, bursting out of the room, "and if I'dknown what you had done, nothing on earth should have induced me togo in. I won't enter the room till I know that you have taken itout." Nevertheless her sister Kate was bold enough to solve themystery before the evening was over.

　　THE END.

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