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POOR DADDY LONG-LEGS 



AND 



OTHER STORIES 




sfie pRirj06ss.;inD neR AJS^enonn^s. 



Poor Daddy Long-Legs 



AND 



OTHER STORIES 



By L. C. 



Mitb SUuetratione 



•* Some said, • Do print it ;* others said, ' Not so ;' 
Some said, ' It might do good;' others said, 'No;' 

And so I penned 

It down, until at last it came to be. 

For length and breadth, the bigness which you see." 

BUNYAN. 



IBublin: 

HODGES, FIGGIS, & CO., GRAFTON STREET 

LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., STATIONERS* HALL COURT 

1885 



J^^__ 



*> 1 . 



ipDf ^^^' 



.* 



OXFO' 



Bebicateb 



TO MY DAUGHTERS 



LENORE AND LOUISE 



"SWEETS TO THE SWEET" 



CONTENTS.. 



■•^ »• 



PAGE 

Daddy Long- Legs, ...... 3 

The Castle by the Sea, . . . . .18 

The Arm-Chair s Story, • • • • • 33 

The Jewel Palace, . . . . . -55 



DADDY LONG-LEGS. 



^NCE upon a time (all good stories you know begin in this way, 
and as this is going to be a good story it must begin in the proper 
way) — well, once upon a time, a great many years ago, before you or I 
were born, there lived in a certain village a very tall man, who was called 
by all the little people round him Daddy Long-Legs, and by-and-by the 
neighbours became so accus- 
tomed to hearing the child- 
ren call him this, that they 
forgot he ever had any other 
name, and so, as he was 
always called Daddy Long- 
Legs by every one, we may 
as well call him so too. He 
was seven feet high, and 
quite thin ; his legs were so 
long, and his arms were so 
long, and his body was so 

lank, that he really looked ~" ^,*-.-.. *-V^ " 

like the insect whose name he bore, especially as, when he walked about, 
he used to twist and twirl his arms in all directions ; indeed I believe he 
occasionally imagined that they were wings, and that he was flying I— for 



4 DADDY LONG-LEGS. 

this long man was not quite as wise as most of the world, not even as 
wise as the little folk in the village where he lived. Some people thought 
his body had grown so much when he was a lad that his wits had had no 
time to grow ; / don't know whether this was the case or not; and anyhow 
it does not make much difference now, does it ? Well ! — one cold night 
in winter, when all the children were snugly tucked up in their warm beds 
(and very glad to be there, for the snow was lying thickly on the ground, 

and every now and then more 
flakes dropped down silently 
and softly from the dark sky), 
Daddy Long-Legs sat dozing 
over a bright wood fire in his 
little cottage. The door was 
shut and locked, the one little 
window was closed and the 
shutter fastened, and poor 
Daddy was taking a little 
sleep over the cheery fire be- 
fore going to his bed in the 
corner of the room. Suddenly he started with a shiver and a feeling of 
a biting cold blast in the room ; he opened his eyes, and there, opposite 
him, sitting on a three-legged wooden stool, was a little old man ; very 
old, very ugly, and covered with snow, which the fire was gradually 
melting, causing him to look even wetter and drearier than before. 
Daddy stared at him ; then he rubbed his eyes and stared harder ; 
finally he said, in rather a shaky voice — for it must be confessed he was 
just a little frightened — "Who are you?" 



DADDY L ONG-LEGS. 5 

The old man nodded and nodded, but said never a word. 

"Where did you come from?" whispered Daddy. 

" Fairy-Land," squeaked the little man, in a strange high voice. 

" Where ?" 

"Fairy-Land," he repeated, rather pettishly this time, for he did 
not like having to say the same thing twice. 

"I don't believe you," said Daddy; "there's no such place." 

" You are very rude — ^you know nothing about it — ^you know nothing 
about anything," squeaked the little man, frowning violently. 

"You shouldn't tell fibs, I know that," snapped Daddy; "and 
besides, fairies are supposed to be pretty, and you '' 

"Hold your tongue, you great lumbering lout," shouted the little man 
very angrily, rising as he spoke, and shaking off the last few snow-flakes 
as he did so, for they had nearly all melted with the heat of the fire. 
" Unbeliever that you are, you shall see ; come along, come along." 

And in some odd, unaccountable way, Daddy felt obliged to get up and 
follow. He did not want to leave his nice bright fire and his comfortable 
bed, but he could not help himself. He had to go, just as he was, without 
even a hat on his poor bare head, out into the cold night ; and it seemed 
to him singular — to say the least of it — that the door opened of itself, and 
shut behind them quite silently. 

Down through the empty street the pair went, and very odd they 
looked — one so tall, the other so small ; but there was no one there to see 
them, so it didn't much signify how they looked, and moreover they went 
so quickly, it was more like a gust of wind passing by than two men. 
Out of the village, across the deserted snow-covered fields, on they went ; 
on to the foot of a high hill, up which Daddy had gone many a time, little 



6 DADDY LONG-LEGS, 

thinking that he should one day, or rather one night, go inside it. But 
go inside it he did ; for the old man wallced through the side as though 
it were an open door, and Daddy followed him. 

It was very dark outside in the night, but it was quite light 
inside the hill, as bright as if a thousand lamps were lighted ; but 

there was not one to be 
seen, no, nor even a can- 
dle. Daddy thought it 
was all very wonderful ; 
and though he felt fright- 
ened enough, yet he was 
obliged to do exactly as 
his little guide wished, 
for the very good reason 
that he could not help 
himself. He had lost all 
power of will ; and though 
he could not help thinking 
he ought to be able to 
crush that little man, in point of fact he wasn't able so much as to 
put out a hand to stop him. 

On they went, down ever so many flights of steps and along numberless 
passages, all equally lighted, the little old man never even turning his 
head to look after Daddy, but gliding on without pause or falter until he 
arrived at a glass door. Against this he tapped twice, and immediately it 
flew open, and he and Daddy passed through into a most wonderful hall. 
The floor was all shining as if it were made of chased silver ; the walls 



DADDY LONG^LEGS. 7 

were of crystal, cut like the drops of a glass chandelier, so that they showed 
every hue, and flashed light and colour in all directions. 

The ceiling looked as if it were made of the sky — dark, blue, fathomless; 
and thickly strewn over it were diamond stars, so bright, so luminous, that 
they served to render the whole hall as brilliant as though the sun, moon, 
and stars were all shining and sparkling together in it. And it was the 
largest room Daddy had ever seen ; or any one else, as far as that goes. 
There were fountains of coloured gems tossing jets of melted rainbow ; 
there were trees and flowers more lovely than could be imagined ; pictures, 
gleaming statues, vases of most exquisite beauty, chairs and couches of 
gold and ivory draped in lustrous silks and richest velvets. Down the 
centre was a long table covered with the daintiest dishes, splendid fruit, 
and the most perfect glass and china. All that a much more enlarged 
mind than poor Daddy possessed could conceive was there, and more 
than that. 

Perfect beauty reigned everywhere, but perfect silence as well. There 
was not a soul to be seen. 

Certainly this is Fairy-Land, thought Daddy, as he looked over the 
whole scene ; and even as the thought entered his mind, the old man 
turned for the first time and said triumphantly, ''Now I" 

Daddy blushed; he knew quite well what the other meant, and 
immediately began to apologise. " I beg your pardon. Sir, I am sure " 

" There I there, that will do, don't bother ; you are only a man ! '' 

The tone of this last sentence somehow made Daddy feel very hot 
and angry ; for after all he was young, and though he had not much brains 
he had plenty of feeling, and it annoyed him to be made so little of. 
However, he thought it best to say nothing, and the other went on, '* This 



8 DADD Y L ONG-LEGS. 

is a part of my Palace. I am King Irascible, and the reason I have brought 
you here is this — I and my two brothers, Kings Sobersides and Flatterer, 
are all in love with the same lady, the Princess Honoria, daughter of a 
neighbouring king, and she has sworn to give her hand to whichever of 
us shall show her the tallest man. Why she hit upon such an idea I can't 
say, the whims of females are not to be accounted for ; however, at twelve 
o'clock to-night we are all to meet here with our findings, and the hand 
of the Princess is to reward the winner. I flatter myself / have succeeded 
pretty well." With that he contemplated the tall proportions of the man 
beside him, and nodded his head several times in a satisfied way. With 
the last nod an invisible clock began to strike XII., and at the same 
moment various crystal doors opened, and processions of diminutive people, 
gorgeously dressed, walked in and up to the upper end of the hall, where, 
on a raised dais, was a golden chair inlaid with rare jewels and cushioned 
with sapphire velvet. 

'' Make way for the Princess," was heard on all sides, and little men 
with white wands kept running about pushing the people into their places. 
Presently all were settled, and then there sounded a blast of trumpets — 
another — and another ; then faint cheers, growing louder and nearer each 
moment ; finally a great hush. 

Up through the long room came a lady, taller than any one else 
excepting Daddy (who was hiding nervously behind a crystal pillar). She 
was robed in silvered satin encrusted with rubies ; a train of turquoise 
blue, embroidered with seed pearls, was fastened to the shoulders with 
large single diamonds ; diamonds and rubies sparkled on head, neck, and 
arms ; and yet, with all this magnificence. Daddy's eyes, after the first quick 
glance, went up to her face, and rested there. 



DADDY LONG-LEGS. 9 

Of all the wonderful and beautiful things around, this face was the 
most wonderful and the most beautiful, and he did not feel surprised the 
three kings were all In love with her. 

She walked composedly to the gold chair and took her seat, her 
train-bearers, six lovely girls, standing on either side of her, and then' 
she spoke. 

" Have their Majesties arrived ?" 

Out stepped King Irascible, followed by Daddy Long-Legs, and both 
bowed to the ground. 

" Ahem ! a tall man, certainly 
a very tall man ! I admire you 
immensely," she continued, turning 
to Daddy with a beautiful smile ; 
and the poor foolish fellow yielded 
up his heart to her at once. 

"O, madam," he said, "you 
are too good." 

"You see, Sir," she replied, 
" I have had the great misfortune : 

to be born taller than any one else 
in these lands, and I get so tired 

of looking down upon everyone, that I determined I would see some 
one I could look up to before settling myself for life ; and so, as these 
three beings were all fighting for my favour, I let it be understood 
that I would marry whichever of them should bring me the tallest 
man to be my slave and train-bearer — perhaps even my friend," she 
said in a lower, softer key, glancing again at Daddy. 



lo DADDY LONG-LEGS. 

"When I'm your husband, I'll take care you don't look down on me," 
snapped King Irascible. 

" Why I do you intend to go on stilts ?" said she. 
" Yes, if I like, and make you feel them too," he growled. 
" First catch your bird," said the Princess calmly. 
At this moment a door opened, and another little old man, not unlike 
King Irascible, but something taller, and with a smoother and more bland 
countenance, entered, made his way up to the Princess, and bowed low. 

" Most lovely and gracious lady, your servant has found a man taller 
than all others, and craves permission to present him to you." 

— "Produce him, King Flatterer. 

We have already a tall and proper man 
before us. I scarce think you will 
show me a taller." 

King Flatterer turned and beck- 
oned, and up through the hall strode a 
tall, bulky personage. Large-headed, 
large bodied, large limbed, he was as 
fat as Daddy was thin, and rejoiced 
in the nickname of " Bolster." 

" A very fine man indeed," said the 

Princess, " but hardly taller than the 

other, I fancy; let them be measured." 

Measured they accordingly were, and both were precisely seven feet 

high, neither more nor less. 

" Most Divine Princess " began King Flatterer. 

" Fiddlesticks I" interrupted the Princess. 



DADDY LONG-LEGS. i r 

"There's some mistake," snarled King Irascible. "Measure them 
again ; I'm sure it will turn out that I have won." 

" I'll turn you out if you interfere," retorted the Princess. 

"Ugh!" growled King Irascible; but he didn't venture to say any 
more, for he knew the Princess was, comparatively, strong-bodied as well 
as strong-minded. 

" We must wait for King Sobersides," observed Her Royal Highness, 
" and here he comes." 

Up walked another little old man, exceedingly like the other two 
kings, but with a long- -^o 

drawn face, and a slow, 
melancholy gait. He gave 
Daddy the impression of 
having been nursed on very 
flat beer instead of whole- 
some sweet milk. Immedi- 
ately behind him came a 
man, tall, broad, red-nosed, 
red-haired, decidedly ugly ; 
and, being given to drink 
more punch than he ought, 
he was generally called 
" Toddy." 

King Sobersides bowed sadly. " Royal lady, I have sought to do 
your bidding in procuring for your august inspection the most — h'm — 
elevated mortal that is to be found. Here is the individual. I opine he 
can scarcely be matched." 



12 DADDY L ONG-L EGS. 

" Measure him," said the Princess curtly. She didn't like the look 
of Toddy, and also King Sobersides' face made her feel dull. 

They measured him ; they measured the others again. They were all 
seven feet high, neither more nor less. 

King Sobersides sighed profoundly several times in succession, which 
made the Princess feel angry ; she therefore rose up and lifted her hand, 
and instantly there was a perfect silence. 

" Kings, Lords, and Ladies, I promised my hand to that Sovereign 
who should be able to show me the tallest man. There is no tallest man 
here. They are all three equal ; therefore my promise is null and void. 
I now solemnly declare, in the presence of you all, that I will give my hand 
to whichever of these six persons before me, the three kings and their three 
tall men, shall pay me the greatest compliment, giving five minutes for 
consideration. Do I say well ?" A murmur of applause ran through the 
assembly, and the Princess resumed her seat. 

For three hundred seconds a profound silence reigned, even King 
Sobersides suppressed his sighs and King Irascible his growls, and then 
the latter came forward and said — 

" It is not in my nature to make pretty speeches and pay empty 
compliments, and I feel sure, Madam, you are above listening to them." 

•*Hal ha!" laughed she, "there's a good deal in that; nevertheless 
I am not above listening to them, and liking them too." 

Then King Flatterer advanced and spoke. " Bestow upon me the light 
of your countenance, sweetest lady, and all other lights will become dark ; 
only smile upon me once, and my whole life will be flooded with sunshine." 

" Shut your eyes," said the Princess. 

He did so, and she smiled graciously upon him, but he didn't see it. 



DADDY LONG-LEGS. 1 3 

"Do you feel happy?" said she, as he opened them. 

" Not yet, Divine Princess." 

"Then I'm afraid you tell fibs ;" and she beckoned King Sobersidesr 
forward. 

He bowed, he sighed. " My life is wasting away in sighs for your 
sweet sake." (" Small size," muttered the Princess.) "Neither Fairy-Land 
nor any other land can produce for me a second Honoria." 

" Stuff," said the Princess, and gave herself a shake, for she felt 
gloomy. 

Then Bolster turned to her and said, " You are the very fairest and 

< 

daintiest lady I ever set eyes on, but I doubt you'd always be as soft as 
my feather bed ;" and he shook his fat head slowly and sadly, as he 
thought of his comfortable couch so far away. 

" ril drink your health as soon as I get something to drink it in, and 
I'll go on drinking it as long as you like ; I couldn't say more than that, 
I'm sure," said Toddy. 

Then Daddy advanced shyly, and, hesitating for a moment, took the 
Princess's hand, and bowed over it till his lips touched the soft, white, 
jewelled fingers. " Madam, I love you," he said simply. 

The Princess smiled, and, placing her other hand in his, said — 

" Sir, I thank you ; you have paid me the greatest — the only great — 
compliment worth having, and I bestow on you my hand and all my 
possessions. Let us adjourn to the banquet, and celebrate our wedding 
with merriment and festivity. 

Down the room they went, he in his every-day working clothes, she 
in her glistening satin and jewels ; down towards the seats of honour at 
the richly-spread table ; but, alas ! Daddy in his great elation forgot to 



14 DADDY LONG-LEGS. 

look at anything but his bride, and suddenly he struck sharply against 
a crystal pillar and fell heavily to the ground. 

Rising hastily and looking round, he saw before him a little old- 
fashioned grate with a few grey ashes lying in it, a dark, dingy room with 
a gleam of daylight creeping through a crevice in a wooden shutter, and a 
three-legged stool lying on the floor. He stared amazed, he rubbed his 
eyes, he pinched himself — it was his own ugly little cottage he saw. His 
bride, the banquet, the wonderful hall, the 
kings, the company, were gone — vanished — 
and he was alone in his dingy home, cold and 
comfortless. 

While he was still staring round him, 

the door was shaken sharply ; he opened it 

mechanically, to find a neighbour's wife with 

a fresh egg in her hand, a little present for 

Daddy's breakfast. He looked at the woman 

blankly, saying in a kind of unconscious voice, 

" Where is the banquet ? where is the Princess ?" 

" What is it you say ?" asked Mrs. Grey. 

" '^ " Where is my bride, the Princess ?" 

The woman felt frightened, and hurried away to tell the neighbours 

that poor Daddy had gone quite crazed, and was talking utter nonsense. 

Soon the little boys and girls came crowding round the cottage to look at 

" Mad Daddy," and they all began to talk at once and ask him all sorts 

of questions, till at last he felt so worried, he said if they would but be 

silent he would tell them of all the wonders he had seen and heard during 

the night ; and this he accordingly did, as accurately as he could. But 



DADDY LONG-LEGS. 15 

they only laughed and jeered the more, and called him " King Daddy," and 
asked him where his crown was, and when he was going again to his 
Palace and his Princess. Poor Daddy got more and more angry ; all he 
could say they would not believe him, till at last he hunted them out of 
the house, saying he would go that very night to the mountain and would 
mark the way, and then, when 
he was quite sure of it, he 
would lead them all to this 
Fairy-Land and show them 
its glories. 

Late that night, in the 
bitter cold, with the snow 
falling thicker and faster each 
minute, Daddy slipped out 
through the silent, sleeping 
town, over the snow-clad de- 
serted fields, on, on, up to the 
high hill ; and the snow fell 
faster and faster, and the 
wind began to howl in a 

horrible, weird way, and every few minutes blew with doubled force, 
and with each gust thick masses of snow drifted and lay together. 

In the morning, when the village children looked out of their windows 
and doors, they saw that there had been a great snow-storm, and in the 
grey, leaden-hued sky there was every sign of more snow, and even as they 
looked it began to fall again, and no one could go outside his house 
neither that day nor the next. Then there came a change, and a cold, pale 



1 6 DADD Y LONG'LEGS. 

sun stole out and tried to look a little bright and cheerful, but it was very 
hard work, and in spite of its efforts it was a very melancholy-faced sun 
that glanced down on the white world, and slowly, slowly melted the snow 
into tears for very sorrow. By-and-by people began to venture out 
of their houses and look about them, and some of the bigger children 
contrived to get over to Daddy's cottage to ask him if he had seen any 
more of his beautiful Princess. But Daddy wasn't there. The cottage 
was empty, the hearth desolate. He never was there again ; and though 
he was sought for in all directions, no one could find any trace of him ; 
and the little folks began to think that perhaps there really was a Fairy- 
Land after all, and that Daddy had gone back to it and to all the beauties 
he had described to them. But some of the older children were frightened 
when they remembered how they had jeered the poor half-witted fellow, 
and how he had declared he would go out that night and mark the way ; 
and they knew if he had wandered on to the hill in that terrible snow-storm, 
it was little marvel his cottage was empty for ever after. 



In the bright, glad spring-time, when many a pretty blossom was 
pushing its fair little head up through the ground and lifting its delicate 
face to the tender blue sky, a great many of the village children went out 
for a day's pleasuring on to the hill. There, in a deep hollow, they came 
upon a tall skeleton form lying with a few rotten rags about its bleaching 
bones — ^just enough to show that it was the remains of the poor lost 
Daddy they had found. 

« 

It was a very sad pleasure-party that returned that day to the village 
to tell what they had discovered, and I think none of them ever again 



DADD Y LONG-LEGS. 1 7 

mocked and jeered any poor soul who was more foolish than they 
were ; and I know when they grew up and had little children of their 
own, they told them the story of poor Daddy Long-Legs — how he 
must have dreamed about the beautiful Fairy Hall, and how they, in 
the plenitude of their sense, as they thought it, had scorned and mocked 
the poor silly fellow, and so had driven him out in that terrible night 
to his death in the cruel snow. 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 



THEN I was a little girl, I lived in a large house near the sea; 
it was not very much of a sea, to be sure, being rather an inlet 
of a bay, but it had its waves, and sometimes very big and dashing ones 
they were, breaking madly over the low sea-wall, and doing a great 
deal of damage to the roadway, which ran beside the wall. But as a rule 
it was a calm and placid sea, and the tide, when it went out, left a long, 
wide stretch of sand exposed, and in this sand cockles innumerable 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 19 

might be found by the patient seekers. It was a great delight to me, 
when I was allowed to pin up my already short frock, to remove my 
stockings and boots, and, armed with a razor shell and a basket, to join 
in the search for the shell-fish which in those days I thought so excellent. 
How one's tastes change! I don't think any persuasion now-a-days 
would induce me to eat 
a raw cockle ; and in 
that old, bygone time, 
not one, but thirty or 
more, would be swal- 
lowed by my eager greed 
with unspeakable satis- 
faction ! I was a lonely 
little girl enough, for 
though I had brothers, _ 
they were nearly always 
at school ; I had no 
sister, and my mother 
was too great an invalid 
to attend much to her 

solitary daughter : so I — 

grew accustomed to make my own little plays and games, and to enter- 
tain myself by myself; for my governess was a foreigner, and her 
tastes and mine were naturally very different. 

Our gate-lodge was about half-a-mile from the shore, and between 
the two, but much nearer to the latter, was a large demesne surrounding 
a grand old castle of imposing architecture, and with great castellated 



20 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

stone towers and turrets, on the highest of which a lofty flag-staff raised 
its bare pole high into the air. The grey stone of the castle stood out 
in fine relief against a thick background of old elm trees, whose dark 
silence was perpetually broken and enlivened by the chattering and 
cawing of innumerable rooks, who had reared for themselves a great 
colony amidst the dark foliage of the ancient trees. I don't know that 
I should have taken very particular notice of the castle and its 
surroundings, had I had childish playmates and merry games to amuse 
me; but being, as I was, always either quite alone or with those who 
were many years my seniors, I grew into a habit of making mountains 
out of molehills, of weaving all sorts of romances out of cobwebs, and of 
building beautiful castles in the air even out of the commonest materials. 

Naturally, then, this grand old castle, with its always bare 
flag-staff, its silent avenues and neglected gardens, became to me 
'*a perpetual feast" as regards invention. For as long as I could 
remember, no one had ever lived there; no smoke was ever seen to 
creep and curl from the great stacks of stone chimneys; no hand ever 
opened the shuttered windows, or unbarred the great oaken hall-door; 
and yet the castle was no ruin — far from it. Handsome, strong, and 
apparently untouched by either time or weather, it stood ; even the paint 
and varnish on windows and doors did not seem to crack or blister, and 
in fact the castle always looked as if the inhabitants had only left it a 
day or two ago, whereas I was told they had shut it up and departed 
at the time of my birth, just ten years before. 

But if the castle looked in good order, not so the gardens; a 
tangled wilderness of flowers, grass, roses, weeds, and briars mingled 
together in the wildest confusion ; it was even in places difficult to 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 21 

distinguish where the paths had been, and I had many a time to wade 
waist-deep through greenery to reach a sort of summer-house or bower, 
in which I loved to spend my play-time, either with a story-book or 
my little dog, or, more often still, merely occupied in dreaming wonderful 
day-dreams about the castle and its contents. Oh, how I did wish I 
could get inside that great door, and wander at will through the deserted 
rooms and galleries ! If I could only have found out who held the keys, 
I would have begged and prayed that person to take me in and show 
me the mansion ; but I could not discover who was the possessor. No 
one seemed to know, and, what to me was far more odd, no one 
seemed to care. 

My nurse had once told me briefly, two or three years ago, before 
I had been promoted regularly to the schoolroom, that there had been 
great trouble in the family just at the time of my birth, and that Lord 
Careysville, the owner, had shut up and locked every room, and had 
departed with his family from the spot, vowing never more t-o see it. 
She would not tell me what the trouble was, and this bald statement only 
whetted my childish curiosity, and made me more eager than ever to get 
inside what had gradually become, to my mind, a regular enchanted castle ! 

One sunny summer's day, I ran down alone to the shore, with 
my little basket as usual, to collect seaweeds or shells, or anything else 
that I considered curious or pretty, and on my way, I determined to go 
in through the near gate of the castle demesne, down the elm avenue 
at the far side of the building, and so on to the sea-shore. This, of 
course, added to my walk, but I had plenty of time before me, it being 
a half-holiday, and, as usual, a kind of fascination drew me inside the 
big gates. I ought to say that the two lodges of the demesne were 



22 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

inhabited, and the good-natured occupants were always ready to let me 
through, and, indeed, to chat away as long as my impatience allowed 
me to linger near them. On this particular day, judge of my surprise 
to find the gates wide open, and a whole army of labourers busy with 
spades, scythes, hoes, rakes, and what not, cleaning and trimming the 
long-neglected avenues and side paths. Not waiting to investigate the 
reason of such a surprising innovation, I ran hurriedly past the workmen, 
and up the terraced walks, to the castle itself, with a kind of vague half 
hope that perhaps — perhaps the great, ponderous oaken door might at 
last be open, and that I could realise my heart's desire, and get inside 
the wondrous mansion. 

Surely it was. 

*' No, no, it's impossible ; I must be dreaming," I said to myself. 

But I wasn't dreaming; for, oh! hurrah I it was open — ^wide, wide 
open, and not a soul to be seen to forbid my entrance. 

With my heart beating wildly, and my cheeks burning, I 
flew rather than ran up the wide marble steps, across the inlaid, 
mosaic floor of a small ^nte-room, into a large, lofty, oak-panelled 
hall, with great stained-glass windows, through which the sun cast all 
sorts of wondrous coloured lights on furniture, pictures, and statues. 
It was a handsome, nay, a splendid room, no doubt; but I was dimly 
conscious of a slight shock to my romantic visions. There was nothing 
wonderful in it; I had seen just as handsome rooms before, and with 
a much slower movement I opened one of the doors nearest me, and 
entered what I took to be the library. 

It also was oak-panelled, with oak book-shelves, and legions of 
books in all kinds of colours and bindings. Through this room I 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 23 

wandered into a billiard-room ; from it into what I supposed must be 
a smoking room; out again into the great hall; then into a suite of 
three large drawing-rooms, handsomely furnished, the end one opening 
into a large conservatory, in which marble statues presented a curiously 
cold and sad appearance, amongst large and small pots and tubs, in 
which the flowers, plants, and palms were all quite withered and dead, 
while spiders had spun innumerable webs from the dead stems round 
and over the dusty forms of the once white statues. 

With an ever-growing disappointment, I left these rooms and 
was back in the hall, whence I slowly ascended a flight of very wide, 
handsomely-carpeted stairs, that at the first landing broke off to right 
and to left, both flights meeting again in the gallery that went round 
three sides of the hall, and from which doors opened into various bed 
and dressing-rooms. I looked at them all ; then at the far end of the 
gallery I opened a door, to find myself in a long, lofty corridor, lighted 
from the roof, on one side of which hung many pictures and portraits, 
and on the other was a row of doors leading into more bedrooms. 
I could distinctly hear the voices of men and women below me, but I 
could see no one, so I concluded that there were rooms beneath this 
gallery, where probably cleaning, etc., was going on. 

By this time I was a completely disenchanted child ; all my romance 
was gone; there was nothing wonderful in the house — nothing in the 
least supernatural — nothing, in fact, that was much superior to my own 
large and comfortable home. The tears of utter disappointment were 
welling up into my eyes as I opened the very last door in the gallery, 
and went slowly into what had evidently been ''my lady's boudoir." 
It was a smallish, oval room, with a wide bow window, which, like all 



24 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

the other windows in the usually shut-up house, was wide open, and 
evidently a sort of hasty cleaning had gone on, as there was no great 
amount of dust lying on tables or chairs, and my footsteps on the carpet 
did not produce clouds of grey particles, as had been the case in most 
of the rooms I had previously entered. Still wrapped in my great 
disappointment, I was slowly quitting this apartment also, when my eye 
was caught by a portrait, over the door, of a delightful-looking boy. 
Crisp, curly, bright brown hair waved over a fair, open forehead ; great 
orange-brown eyes, with black lashes, and somewhat strongly-marked 
dark brows, illumined a most attractive face ; while rosy, slightly parted 
lips seemed to be smiling straight down at me. His right hand rested 
on the head of a noble-looking deer-hound, while his left held towards 
the dog, as if showing it to him, a large, oval, medallion picture, evidently 
a portrait. 

The artist must have been a very superior one, for even to my 
childish eyes the picture had a most vivid life; while the dog seemed 
to be actually slowly wagging its tail, as its large dark eyes gazed into 
the medallion. Delighted with the handsome boy and grand dog, I 
exclaimed, *'Why! 'tis Prince Charming himself;" and, drawing nearer, 
I looked closely into the picture to see 

Heavens ! what did I see ? Impossible ! For the second time that 
day I asked myself if I were dreaming, and this time with a distinct 
sensation of fear! 

Again I stared at the picture — at the medallion ; and then, seizing 
a chair, I placed it before the empty fire-place, and stood on it, in 
order to gaze into the mirror over the mantel-shelf. 

What did I see there? 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 25 

A delicate, pale, oval face, with long masses of wavy, curly, light 
gold hair; darkish eyebrows, slightly arched; two great, solemn blue- 
black eyes, with long dark fringes ; and a small, sensitive, tremulous 
mouth, with an expression of grave 
melancholy that even to myself seemed 
unusual in a child. 

Down I got from the chair, and 
crept back to the picture of the boy, 
staring at the medallion he was holding 
to show the dog. 

Again what did I see ? 

A little girl, pale-skinned, oval-faced, 
with great, sad, blue-black eyes ; with a 
tender, tremulous mouth, and clouds of 
waving, curling, golden hair. 

That was what the portrait repre- 
sented — that was what the mirror por- 
trayed. There could be no sort of doubt ; it was I, Ethel Courtenaye — 
I myself — just as I stood there that day ; and the great tawny eyes of 
the boy in the picture seemed to smile at me, and the half-opened, merry 
lips absolutely appeared to say, " Yes, yes, it is you I " 

Even as I stood gazing, awe-struck, half terrified, half interested, 
I heard a loud clang, and almost immediately afterwards many voices 
talking outside the castle. I rushed to the window, to see a troop of 
girls, women, and men going away from the house, and in an instant 
realised that the great clang meant that the hall-door was shut, and 
that I had been fastened in alone in that great, lonely dwelling. 



26 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

With a wild cry I leant over the window-sill, flinging my arms out 
into the empty air. 

But the chattering men and maidens did not heed me, and in another 
moment or so they were out of sight and out of hearing. 

Oh, horror I Here was I alone — ^alone in that great house shut 
up — no one knowing where I was; and in the very room with me 
was — a thing — ^a ghost — of my own self I 

I was here in the flesh, alive, suffering, shivering with terror: I was 
there in the picture, calm, silent, impassive ; and the cold stillness of the 
pictured Me seemed only to increase the miserable, nervous terror of 
the real Me! 

With a loud, piteous scream, I rushed half blindly towards the door, 
and was suddenly stopped and caught by two strong arms that encircled 
my poor little quivering frame, and at the same instant a voice asked — 
''What is the matter, dear?" 

With a thrill and a throb of unutterable relief, I looked up and saw — 
Prince Charming himself! — older, taller, no doubt, but still the same 
wonderful, handsome, attractive boy I had called by that fairy-tale name. 
" Oh !" I cried, half gasping, half sobbing, *' I feared I was shut up here 
alone." 

**Why," said he, staring wonderingly at me, as he sank into 
a chair — *' why, 'tis verily my great-aunt come to life again ! Ethel 
Careysville has resumed life and childhood together." 

So strangely he spoke, so wonderingly he looked, that I hastily 
drew myself from the protecting arms I had been so thankful to feel 
a few moments ago; and making a demure little curtsey, I said, ''No, 
sir, I am not a great-aunt, nor yet Ethel Careysville ; I am only little 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 27 

Ethel Courtenaye, of the Grange, and " — half sobbing — *' I got shut 
in here by accident a little while ago." 

" Well, to be sure ! " said the youth, laughing merrily, " this is a 
curious coincidence. She is Ethel " (nodding at the medallion), '* and he 
is Guy" (waving his hand towards the picture boy), "and here are you — 
Ethel, and here am I — Guy. They were brother and sister ; and didn't 
you say your name was Courtenaye ? Why, we must be cousins ! My 
great-aunt married your grandfather. Don't be frightened, little Ethel," 
he continued ; and he put his arm again round me, for I was still 
trembling perceptibly with the childish anguish of those previous 
moments. ''I do think you are my own little cousin, and, my dear, 
you are so wonderfully like my great-aunt, whose portrait you see in 
that picture, that I consider you ought to make friends with me at once ; 
for she, you know, dearly loved her only brother Guy, and he was my 
grandfather, and I am his namesake." 

''And you are exactly like him," I exclaimed, *'and he looks so nice, 
I ^(7 think I shall like you;" and then a little shyly I added, "I called 
him Prince Charming the first moment I saw him." 

•'Did you?" exclaimed the young man. "How strange, and" — 
colouring a little — " how glad I am ! Do you know, the moment I saw 
that picture, about an hour ago, I called the little girl in the medallion 
' My Queen,' she seemed so sweet, so true, so gracious, and I came back 
now on purpose to look at her again before I left the castle for the night. 
And oh," he added, " how glad I am I came ; for otherwise I should not 
have found you, and you would have been frightened for several hours, 
you poor little soul ! because my people were not coming back till sun- 
down, to close the windows and make all safe for the night." And with 

D 



28 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

ft 

f 

tender, kindly fingers he stroked my hair, and petted my hands, and 
comforted and soothed me with a manly gentleness that even to this 
day I cannot forget. 

All in a moment, I suddenly became aware that I was not at all sure 
of who my young companion actually was ; so, shrinking away from his 
arms, I said, ''You told me just now your name was Guy. Are you 
Lord Careysville's son ? '' 

" I am Lord Careysville," he answered gravely. '* My father died 
abroad six months ago, my mother more than two years since ; I am an 
orphan, without either brother or sister ; I am quite alone in the world, 
little Ethel." 

He spoke so sadly, he looked so sadly, that my heart was 
instantly wrung to see how, all in a moment, the merry brightness of 
my Prince Charming was gone ; my glad-eyed, laughing-lipped boy had 
all at once become a grave and sad young man ; and, holding out my two 
hands towards him, I exclaimed — " No father, no mother, no brother 
or sister ! Oh, I am sorry ! Oh, I wish you would let me help you ; 
oh, I wish you would have me for your sister ! " 

He caught my hands, and held them ; the tears welled in his rich 
brown eyes, and, bending forward, he kissed my lips, saying tenderly, 
*' My little Queen, do you know what you have done ? You have 
turned my sorrowful home-coming into a happy one ; you have greeted 
me on the threshold of my new life with sympathy. 'The darkest 
cloud has a silver lining,' and, please God, my dark dfcmds have passed, 
and His silver lining will grow and increase, till all my life shines 
with the glow of a glad and thankful heart." 

As he spoke the last words, he rose from the chair in which he had 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 29 

been sitting, and, still holding my left hand in his right, he drew me from 
the room, along the great corridor, round the hall gallery, down the wide 
stairs, through hall and ante-hall, out of the great oaken door, into the 
sweet, pure air without. 

Half-frightened, but wholly fascinated, I accompanied him, as silent 
as he himself was; but as we went down the elm avenue, I at last 
ventured to say, " Will you tell me where we are going ? " 

He looked down at me with a half smile, as he answered, "We are 
going to the sea-shore, to pick cockles, shells, seaweed, anything; you 
are not afraid of my company, are you ? I want to be a boy again ; 
it seems such years since I have been a boy, and yet I am only eighteen. 
Come, little Ethel, can you run ? " 

"Yes, that I can," I answered, and we did run. 

A tall, handsome young man of eighteen, an Oxford student, and 
the fourteenth Baron Careysville, and a small, fragile little girl, of ten ; 
what a curious and incongruous contrast! and yet, Til venture to say, 
in those two hours spent on the sea-shore, Ethel Courtenaye of the 
Grange was not the more childish of the two. 

My Prince Charming had come back — mirth, merriment, gentle fun, 
shone in every movement, word, and deed. 

Never had I been so happy; never before had the time flown on 
such rapid wings, and it was with a heart-pang of unmistakable dismay 
and regret that I heard the church clock strike six, and knew I must 
hasten home to avoid a scolding. 

"Oh, I am late," I exclaimed, "I must go home this instant, 
Mademoiselle does not like my keeping her waiting for tea. Oh, good- 
bye, and I do thank you. I have been so happy." 



30 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

'' I am coming too," he said. *' I am going to the Grange with you ; 
it is an experiment, to be sure" — laughing awkwardly — " but I hope, oh, 
I hope your people will see me, and that the old feud between our 
families may be allowed to die out." 

''The feud I" I answered; ''I did not know there was anything 
wrong; but" — and I caught his hand impetuously — ''if there has been, 
/ don't care, whatever happens, for ever and always you are ' my Prince 
Charming.'" 

Well, I brought him home, and I told my little story, and Guy, 
Lord Careysville's bonny face and manner at once won the hearts of 
my father and mother, who forthwith agreed that the- old dead times 
should be buried with those that were gone, and that the houses of 
Careysville and Courtenaye should meet as friends, neighbours, and 
relations, as they ought to do. 

I heard the story of the feud later on, and, briefly, it was this : — 
George, thirteenth Baron of Careysville (Guy's father), had been violently 
in love with an exceedingly beautiful girl called Katherine Nelson, 
daughter of a clergyman of good family. Whether she had encouraged 
his attentions, or more probably had simply accepted them in a genial 
girlish way, as she accepted others, I cannot certainly say ; but, at all 
events, he had imagined he was sure to win her, and, feeling so sure, 
had gone off suddenly abroad on a business expedition, without proposing 
in form. He expected to be absent only a couple of months, but, owing 
to various circumstances, over a year had elapsed before he reached home 
again, to find that his idolized Katherine had been married a fortnight 
before to Hugh Courtenaye of the Grange. In the bitterness of his 
disappointment and anger, George, Lord Careysville, went off straight 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 31 

to Lady Mary Manners, who had on sundry previous occasions showed 
a readiness to receive his attentions, and in six weeks the pair were 
married. 

But Lady Mary knew of her husband's previous attachment, and 
never could get over her jealousy of Mrs. Courtenaye; and, being a 
woman of violent temper, the result grew naturally to be that the old 
intimacy between the connections of Castle and Grange waned and waned. , 
And the year I was born. Lady Careysville's jealous temper, overcoming 
all other feelings, induced her to go up to the Grange, and to abuse my 
mother with such vicious bitterness as quite to upset her health, and so 
to be the cause of a premature confinement, which endangered her life 
for many days. 

I believe Lord Careysville never forgave his wife ; he waited on at 
the castle till the doctor said Mrs. Courtenaye would live, though never 
again to be a robust or healthy woman; and he then shut and locked 
every room, and took his wife and two sons abroad, vowing never to 
return while Lady Careysville lived. Her second son died abroad, and 
shortly before my narrative opens, George, the thirteenth baron, had also 
died, some eighteen months after his wife, and Guy, the heir, came home 
to live at his ancestral castle. 

Many merry, happy days I had after that home-coming. Guy 
spent two or three years at Oxford University, but though he took 
brilliant places in the examinations, he never grew too old or too 
fine to neglect his little girl cousin ; and as time passed on, though 
my old romance had quite died away, and I associated no more fantastic 
marvels with that Castle by the Sea, another romance, stranger, sweeter 
far, gradually crept in; the days became more lovely, the nights more 



32 THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

heavenly fair, the lapping tides and the crested waves alike murmured 
gentle tales or passionate ones to my fascinated ears — 

v\ \ " Love took up the glass of time, 

And turned it in his glowing hands, 
Every moment, lightly shaken, 
Ran itself in golden sands." 



"Thy Queen, Prince Charming? 
Husband." 



Oh, beautiful world ! Oh, 
enchanting Castle by the Sea! 
Life was Love, and Love was 
Life— for Prince Charming had 
held my hands in his, whisper- 
ing, "Oh, sweet I oh, love! be 
mine, my Queen I" And birds 
and blossoms and all glad things 
seemed to echo my low reply — 
Oh, better still ! thy Wife— my 




THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 



j^T'S easy work talking, and precious easy to go in for abuse, 
and that sort of thing ; but abuse alone does not carry much 
weight with it, when it comes from a useless, inexperienced 
thing like you. You are very fine to look at, no doubt ; but what do 
you know of life ? Made by machinery, and sold at a bazaar, or some 
such shabby place, what opportunities have you had for learning a 
thing or two? Oh, it's very fine to say I'm 2, dilapidated, stuffy old 
thing. It's lucky I am stuffy, or very uncomfortable I should be ; and 
as to dilapidated I Forty-seven years' good service would naturally 
rub a bit of leather off here and there, and scratch some lines on my 
mahogany. But what of that ? Seven-and-forty years I Heigh-ho ! 
I was smart and bright enough then." 

The speaker was an old-fashioned, red leather Arm-Chair, drawn 
up near a quaint old fire-place in a large oak-panelled dining-room ; 



34 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

and its observations were addressed to a scarlet Cushion, with gold- 
embroidered sides, that .had been brought that very afternoon and laid 
in the Arm-Chair. The room was large and lofty, and the flames of 
a good wood fire lighted up the sombre shades of the rich Turkey 
carpet, danced merrily over massive carved sideboards, and played at 
hide-and-seek in the folds of the heavy crimson velvet curtains that 
shrouded windows and alcove. 

Everything betokened wealth and comfort ; and certainly, by con- 
trast with the rest of the room and furniture, the old red leather 
Chair had a somewhat worn and shabby appearance. The Cushion 
lying upon it had a curiously pert expression ; its red velvet sides 
were so very plump and bright, the gold-braid embroidery dazzling in 
its newness, and the tassels at each corner fell stiffly, as if bristling 
with a sense of injury at their contact with the worn leather of the 
old Chair. On one side of the wide fire-place was the portrait of a 
handsome fair-haired gentleman ; on the other side hung a painting 
of a girl, a child — brown-haired, brown-eyed, beautiful ; but with the 
saddest expression that ever looked out of a frame on to the world 
around. And this portrait, though full of artistic genius, and full 
also of intense life, was unfinished. 

•' Heigh-ho ! " again said the old Chair ; and so deep was the 
sigh, that its seat heaved slightly, raising the Cushion with the 
movement. 

'* ril thank you to stay quiet,'* angrily exclaimed that gaudy article. 
'* It's bad enough for me to be obliged to stay here, without being 
worried by your groans. A nice day I have had altogether ; knocked 
about from one hand to another : examined, and pinched, and squeezed — 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 35 

then disposed of in a miserable raffle, as if I were not handsome 
enough to be bought in a proper way ; and now, at last, tossed down 
on the very shabbiest piece of furniture I ever saw." 

" You ever saw!" said the Chair; "and who are you, I should like 
to know ? By your own account, no one considers you of much value, 
and I can tell you / don't covet your neighbourhood. When I think 
of the people who have sat 
where you are, I only wish I 
could sigh strongly enough to 
toss you off on to the floor. 
That's where you ought to be, 
with some over-fed, asthmatical 
lap-dog lying upon you." 

" What an irritable old 
thing you are, to be sure," said 
the Cushion. "As you catit 
knock me over, you might as 
well be a little more civil. We 
have got to stay together all 
night, at all events, so there is 
no use grumbling or quarrel- 
ling. Suppose, as I have had no experiences, you give me the benefit 
of some of yours) I'm not above listening to you, you see, though 
the back of you is above me. Forty-seven years old I Gracious I what 
an age I / was only finished a few days ago. It's no wonder you are 
a bit grey in places, you poor old chair." 

" What a chatterbox you are," interrupted the Chair crossly. " What 



36 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

matters a few grey patches? I should like to know what you will be 
like in forty-seven years." 

*' Now, don't lose your temper again, old fellow," said the Cushion. 
** It would be much nicer of you to turn your old toes comfortably 
towards that jolly fire, and beguile some of the hours by telling me 
your history. I daresay, now, you know all about that gentleman and 
that little girl up there" (nodding a tassel towards the two pictures). 
'' She looks as if she were listening to us. Is she, I wonder ? " 

'* Not she, indeed, poor little soul," answered the Chair. " Her 
life was too short and sad for her to wish to come back to it. I knew 
her well, and many s the time she sat where you are, with her dainty 
silken head lying against me. She was a little bit of a thing, you see, 
and her head did not reach to the top of my back. Poor, pretty little 
soul! Hers was but a short life, and had a sad ending to it" 

For some moments there was silence in the room, except for the 
occasional fall of a cinder, or a crackle from the burning wood ; while 
the Cushion stared up at the pictured face, and the Chair mused on 
bygone days; and then the Cushion said quickly, "Tell me all about 
her, there's a good creature." 

''Ohl I'm a 'good creature' now, am I ? A while ago I was a 
dilapidated, stuffy old thing. It's wonderful how amiable a body becomes 
when it wants anything. Well, welll The hours do hang a little 
heavily, and I may as well talk a bit of old times as sit here thinking 
over them. So if you will keep quiet, and not interrupt me with your 
saucy remarks, I'll tell you all about her. But just move a little bit 
to the right, please, for you are lying on the weakest part of my spring, 
and if it were to go altogether, I'd never have breath enough to get 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 37 

through my story. There, that's better, thank you," as the Cushion, 
with some difficulty, pushed itself a little to the other side. '' Now Tm 
ready ; are you ? " 

"All right," answered the Cushion; "go on." 

Forty-seven years ago — ^and Christmas Eve. Such an evening I 
Snow lying thickly on hills and roads and fields. Trees and hedges 
masses of white, and from the grey and starless sky the flakes falling 
thick and fast ; everything outside cold, white, and cheerless ; everything 
inside — such a contrast ! A glorious fire, heaped with coal and yule logs ; 
soft carpets, heavy curtains, brilliant lights sparkling and shimmering 
on a snowy table-cloth, with its dainty appointments of silver and crystal. 
Wreaths of holly and ivy, with their dark, glossy leaves and vivid berries, 
twined with the mystic mistletoe round sideboards and mantel-piece; 
while, chiefest ornament of all, a fair, gracious lady stood with her two 
snowy hands clasped round a gentleman's arm, gazing upon — me. I had 
just arrived straight from an upholsterer s shop miles away, fresh, bright, 
perfectly new. I had been selected as a Christmas gift by the gentleman 
for his wife, who was just then in very delicate health, and who required 
every luxury in the way of comfortable couch and easy chair. 

" Do you like it, Ethel, my darling ?" said Sir Arthur Lloyd, my 
new master; "and will you be able to come to dinner and sit in it 
this very night?" 

" Oh yes, indeed, Arthur," she answered. " It is perfect ; and so 
comfortable." 

And so saying, she quitted his arm and sat down in me. Black 
velvet robes contrasted with my crimson, and the fairest head in Christen- 



38 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

dom laid its silken braids against my back. Don't say chairs haven't 
feelings. When that sweet body rested in me, I felt disposed to close my 
two arms round her, and keep her in my embrace for ever. Alas I she 
never sat in me again. No Christmas Eve saw her at dinner, neither that 
night, nor ever. Half-an-hour before the dinner-bell rang, she was taken 
ill; and before the early dawn came peeping greyly down on the white world, 
a new life had come into being, and a precious soul had gone home to God. 
Sir Arthur Lloyd was a widower, with a baby daughter for his only 
comfort. I can tell nothing of his grief, or of the funeral arrangements, 
for early that day I was carried out of the dining-room, and hurriedly 
placed in an empty and darkened bedroom. Frequent steps passed the 
door for some days, and then there came a time of utter silence — long, 
dark, dismal. For how long it lasted I could not tell ; I had no means 
of counting time ; the room was always dark, and no one ever came near 
it for years. Many a time I wished myself back in the luxurious dining- 
room, or even in the upholsterer's shop; but I had to content myself 
with wishing, until, one blessed day, unwonted noises broke the silence ; 
bustle and activity took possession of the deserted corridors ; doors and 
windows were thrown open, and upon my dreary gloom there burst the 
glorious sunshine of a fair June day. Light flooded the darkness, soft 
breezes lightened the heaviness, sweet scents of lime blossoms and 
new-made hay perfumed the dusty and mouldy atmosphere. The master 
was coming home, and not alone. He was bringing a new wife with 
him, as well as the little daughter left motherless six and a-half years ago! 
This I gathered from the conversation of two maids, who, with brushes 
and rubbers, were busy clearing away the accumulated dust of years. 
''Where shall we put the chair, Mary?" said one of the girls. 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 39 

laying a grimy hand on my arm. " Mrs. Moon, the housekeeper, said 
the master couldn't abear the sight of it since the night his first lady 
died, poor thing." 

"Oh, that's years agone, Sarah, and Sir Arthur has taken a new 
wife now, he won't mind the chair; but perhaps we had better put it 
in the little Miss's room, it can't be out of place there. Give us a 
hand with it, Sarah." 

Busy and bustling were the days that followed ; activity reigned 
everywhere. As for me, I was deposited in a small, nicely-furnished 
apartment on the same landing as the room in which I had been shut 
away so long. Well I remember my changed surroundings; and I 
fancy I can see again that cosy little room, with its light-hued walls, 
muslin window draperies, and general air of dainty freshness ; but even 
as I think, all the beauty is shaded, and the sweet freshness sullied 
by the sorrow that swamped all fairness, and turned the loveliest life 
into saddest ruin. Oh, my little fair-haired darling 1 Oh, my sweet, 
rose-lipped lassie 1 When I remember what I heard, and what I saw, 
is it a wonder my crimson turned to grey, and my crisp freshness to 
limp decay? Alas, alas! Ah, my bright, fresh cushion-friend, you 
may thank your stars, or your bright gilt tassels, that you have no bitter 
memories to tarnish your glittering gaudiness. 

Here the old Chair lapsed into silence, and for some moments the 
only sound that broke the stillness of the room was the gentle creaking 
of the weak spring, as the poor old seat sighed and sighed again. 

At last the Cushion lost all patience, and with a hasty jerk, ejaculated, 
''Good gracious, you poor asthmatical old thing, what's the matter? Is 



40 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

your breath too bad to continue? Because, if not, Td be obliged if you'd 
hurry on a bit, otherwise I shall turn my attention to Nod-land." 

''Oh, Vm going on," said the Chair sadly; "but old times come 
back with such a gush of freshness, that I could almost imagine it was 
h\xi yesterday the tragedy happened." 

"If you were I," murmured the Cushion, "and could look at yourself, 
you would not for a moment imagine it was only yesterday." ("Such 
a ghastly, grey old concern as it is," it muttered to itself.) 

"Well," resumed the Chair, apparently heedless of this last remark. 
"Well, to continue." 

On that bright spring day I told you of, I was placed in a 
charming room, daintily furnished ; and on the evening of the day 
following, there sat in me the prettiest, dearest little maiden that 
ever lived in this old world of ours — my first poor mistress's little 
daughter — the baby legacy she left to her husband s love, when she 
herself went to heaven. Many and many were the times the dear girl 
leant her silken head against me, as she nestled in my lap, holding her 
doll, or, more often, her kitten in her hands ; and many were the innocent 
talks she held with her pets, unconscious of the fact that I was listening 
to all her little heart-secrets. For the first days of the home-coming the 
little maid seemed blithe and merry, and bursts of laughter would 
intersperse her chats to the kitten; but by degrees, by slow, almost 
imperceptible degrees, the bright childish peals grew less frequent, and 
then there came times when little sighs, and sometimes sobs, made me 
ache to listen to. One night, when Ethel lay asleep in her little muslin- 
shaded bed in the adjoining room, the two maids I mentioned before 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 41 

came into the sitting-room, and in hushed whispers they talked together. 
'* I don't like it, Sarah, the way the poor lamb is going on. It's not 
that my lady is unkind to Miss Ethel, but she neglects her, and, worse still, 
she pushes her out of her father's heart, and even out of his memory 
at times. The child is fretting and pining, that's what ails her, and it is 
pitiful to see her, poor little soul." 

"Yes, indeed, Mary. I never see a young lady change so in such 
a short time — the bright, merry little beauty she was six months 
ago, when they all came home; and now she is that thin and pale 
and weak-looking, and no heart for play or anything, poor dear! 
Couldn't you tell Mrs. Moon to speak to Sir Arthur, Mary? She's 
been housekeeper here these many years, and need not be afeard 
to tell him the child wants doctoring and looking after." 

"So I will, Sarah, so I will; and a good thought too. I'll talk to 
her this night as ever was. She speaks so warm of the first lady, she 
ought to have a feeling for the poor lady's bairn. Come along, Sarah, 
there's no time like the present." And they both went off. 

The very next day. Sir Arthur Lloyd came into the room, and 
without even observing me, he sat down right upon me, and called his 
daughter to him. 

" Ethel, my dear, Mrs. Moon tells me you are not very well, 
and she thinks you require change of air, or some strengthening tonic. 
Do you feel ill, my child ? " 

"Oh, papa," she said, flinging herself into his arms — ^and so 
light was she, I scarcely felt the additional weight at all — "oh, papa, 
I don't think I am ill; but I am not happy, dear. I used to be with 
you always — ^your dear little companion and pet — and now I never seem 



42 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

even to see you. You are always away, or busy, or occupied with Lady 
Lloyd, and your poor Ethel is lonely and sad." 

"But, my dearest child, I can't well help it at present. You see, 
my wife is a stranger, and I must show her the country, and make 
her known to all the county people. Then, by-and-by, dear, I shall have 
more liberty to spend with you. Til tell you what it is, Ethel, you 
want sea air. I'll arrange for you and your maid to go to Scarboro' 
for a month, and there you will get well and strong in no time." 

" No, no, papa," said the little girl, " it is not sea air I want ; 
it is you, it is youl Oh, papa, I was always with you till the new 
mamma came, and she does not love me, papa; she does not 
like me to be near you, and she sends me away; and oh I" — here 
the poor child burst into sobs — "papa, papa, I have nobody but you, 
and you don't want me now as you used to do." And light as was 
the poor little soul, I could feel my whole frame-work shaking and 
vibrating with her sobs. 

Well, after a bit she grew calmer; her papa kissed and petted 
her, and assured her he loved her as dearly and closely as ever ; 
and by-and-by she smiled again, and the two went off together, 
hand-in-hand, to go and look at a family of little pigs that had lately 
arrived in the farm-yard. Her bright, merry laugh, as she frolicked 
off with her dearly-loved father, did my heart good to hear. Oh, you 
may sneer, Master Cushion, but I have a heart, such as it is ; it is not 
pretty to look at, I dare say, but it can feel, I can tell you 1 

" Pretty to look at 1" laughed the Cushion (and a very curious noise it 
made when laughing) ; '* I should think not, indeed ; it's made of musty 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 43 

old horse-hair, and rusty, cracked springs, and, indeed, it passes me 
to understand how it can feel anything at all." 

"You shut up — or /will/' angrily said the Chair. " I'm as good as 
you any day. What is your heart made of, I should like to know ? 
Down, out of a goose. Out of a goose I Do you hear ? Ha, ha ! Don't 
you talk of hearts, indeed ;" and it kept creaking on to itself — but just 
loud enough for the Cushion to hear — ''Out of a goose — a goose — 
a goose 1" 

Here the Cushion jerked itself with difficulty right on to the Chair's 
weakest spring, and settled itself with a sort of solid determination there. 

" Oh, oh 1 my dear Master Cushion," croaked the poor Chair. " Oh, 
kindly move back again. I can't go on with my story while you put 
me to such pain. Ugh I" 

"Will you hold your ancient tongue about the goose if I move?" 
asked the Cushion. 

"Yes; oh, dear me, yes. I'll not allude to it again, I promise. 
Ughl" gasped the suffering Chair. 

So the Cushion edged itself cautiously to the side, and as the poor 
Chair heaved a great gasp of relief, the Cushion said — 

"Go on with your story, old slow-coach. At this rate of telling, it 
won't be finished before morning." 

" I'm going on," said the Chair. " Where was I ? Oh, I remember. 
The child had just gone off with her father, as merry as a cricket, to see — 
to see — the little — pigs — the little — pigs little pi — g — s." 

Here a sudden silence ensued. The Chair had fallen asleep. 

"Bother the little pigs," snapped the Cushion. "Wake up, can't 
you. Wake up, I sayl Oh, hurrah I here's a fine long needle some 

F 



44 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

one has left in me ; that will rouse the old thing, I think. Here goes," 
and here the Cushion ran about two inches of fine steel right into the 
seat of the Chair. With a violent jerk, and a creaking groan, the old 
creature waked up, and hastily resumed the interrupted tale. 

Well, for a few days little Ethel was quite cheery and merry, and 
like her own bright self again, and as she laid her little head against me, 
while fondling her kitten, I could hear her whisper — " My papa loves me, 
Kitty, my papa loves me." And Kitty would purr away loudly, quite as 
if she understood the little lady. Ah, happy few days ! How quickly 
they passed, and how slowly but surely gloom settled again round and 
upon the little girl. 

By-and-by there came a day when merry peals rang out from the old 
church bells, and tenants and labourers came eagerly up to the castle to 
wish Sir Arthur joy — for a son and heir was born ; a future little baronet 
had come into the world, and Ethel was no longer a great heiress. But 
her sweet, gentle heart only thought of the little brother that God had 
sent to her, and of the happy days they two would have together when he 
grew a little older ; and she whispered to her kitty, as she rubbed her 
soft cheek against my arm, upon which Kitty was seated, " Won't it be 
nice, pussy? A dear little brother to play with and love. He is so 
pretty, Kitty, and so white and small ; much prettier than my new wax 
doll ; and his little fingers can open and shut, and hold on to my hand. 
Oh, Kitty, I love him." 

Dear, tender little heart, how it was blighted. As my lady grew 
stronger, she became more and more jealous of Ethel, and would not 
allow the little girl near the baby. The poor child was always sent away 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 45 

when her step-mother caught sight of her. The child's starved heart had 

nothing but cold words and neglect to live upon ; for even Sir Arthur 

himself was taken up day and night with his wife and baby son. But 

I must hurry on to the bitter, bitter end, and so I will skip over a period 

of two years, and resume my story when baby Guy was a handsome, 

sturdy little fellow of two years and two months old, and his half-sister 

was rather over nine years. It was then that the artist, who painted 

yonder picture, came 

to take a likeness of 

the precious heir, and 

while at the castle. 

Sir Arthur thought 

he might as well paint 

the little girl also. The 

picture was painted in 

Ethel's own room, and 

it was in me she sat 

while the artist worked. 

The boy's picture was 

finished, and I heard 

was a great success, but the little girl's still required a good deal of 

work, which, alas ! it never got. One day she was sitting where you 

are now, Cushion, a little to one side, with her head leaning against my 

back, and her sweet, sad eyes fixed on the painter, when she suddenly 

started and exclaimed, "Guy wants me!" Without another word, she 

sprang to the ground, caught up her hat that was lying on the floor, and 

rushed from the room. A few minutes later, a shrill, wild scream was 



46 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

borne on the breeze through the open window. Again and again it rang. 
A child's cry of awful horror I But before the third cry had echoed 
through the room, the painter had flung down his brushes and was gone. 
I heard all the miserable story afterwards, through the talk and 
gossip of servants, and this is what had happened. It seems the nurse 
had taken her little charge, Master Guy, out for his usual airing in his 
perambulator, and had wheeled him down into the cool shade of some 
large trees growing beside a lake not far from the house. While here, 
the under-gardener (who, it turned out, was paying attentions to the 
nurse, or rather to her money, of which she had a goodish sum laid by) 
came up and beguiled the woman off" to chat, out of sight of the child, 
leaving him in his little carriage at the edge of the lake, well sheltered 
from the sun by the overhanging branches. Some time probably elapsed, 
the nurse too absorbed in her pleasure to take notice of how the minutes 
flew by, when the child must have grown tired of the silence and stupidity 
of his position, and so endeavoured to undo the straps and get out of his 
perambulator. In doing this, his weight, thrown on one side of the frail 
little carriage, tilted it over, and both fell into the lake. At the same 
instant, Ethel must have rushed up to the spot, and, seeing what was 
happening, screamed wildly for help — those screams that reached me in 
her room — those screams that, alas I reached her father's ears as he sat 
in the terrace room with Lady Lloyd by his side. " Papa! papal" '' It is 
Ethel's voice," exclaimed the baronet, springing up; but Lady Lloyd 
caught his arm, saying, '* No, no, it is not ; it is that child at the 
steward's lodge, it is always screaming." Again came that wild, piteous 
cry, shrill and sharp — '' Papa !" " It is Ethel," he said, " there is some- 
thing amiss; let me go, Amy, for mercy's sake." "No," she gasped. 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 47 

clinging fast to his arm with unexpected strength, "you shall not go; 
there is nothing wrong with the child ; there never is," she muttered 
bitterly. "But you are always considering her, even before me, your 
wife, and I can't bear it I" — and here she burst into tears. 

Oh, precious moments I Oh, wasted moments I He listened to her, 
he did not go ; but tried to soothe and comfort her ; and for her, what 
thoughts passed through 
her mind in those min- 
utes ? God only knows. 
Did she feel and know it 
was Ethel's voice — Ethel 
in sore need and danger? 
Did she feign the jealousy 
and force the tears in order 
to keep the father from 
his child ? Who can tell ? 
But the artist had no 
woman's wiles to check 
him, and he ran madly to 
where the screams came 
from, to see the terrible 

picture of the fair, delicate girl striving with all her young strength to 
extricate the baby lad from the little carriage that had fallen sideways 
with him — under the water. She had sprung into the lake herself, 
and its waters were splashing up to, and indeed above her waist ; 
while her feeble hands, endued with the strength of despair, were 
tearing at the obstinate leather straps that held the bonny boy a prisoner. 



48 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

With a few frantic bounds the artist was beside her; in another instant, 
perambulator and child were lifted on to the land, and the little girl 
was helped out. By this time the nurse and gardener (who at length 
had heard the screams) hurried up, and the man fled off to call Sir 
Arthur, who, with Lady Lloyd, was quickly at the lake. 

" She has murdered my baby," cried Lady Lloyd. " The miserable, 
horrid child has killed my son. She pushed him into the lake. I know 
it. She was always jealous of him, my baby heir." 

Thus, and worse, spoke the distracted mother, while messengers 
were despatched for the doctors, and every effort was made to revive 
the child. 

Ethel stood as if stunned ; drenched and pallid, and shivering from 
head to foot, till suddenly her fathers wild eyes fell on her. He had 
heard his wife's words ; he saw the child silent, pale, dripping, with terror 
in her eyes, and slowly from his lips came the cruel words — 

"You, who have tried to murder your own brother, how dare you 
stand there to look at your horrible deed ? Go out of my sight." 

The poor pretty little mouth quivered ; the white lips tried to speak ; 
in vain — no words would come. Without one denial she moved a step — 
two — and then fell prone and silent into the long grass. 

Then with angry, rapid words, the painter told the whole story: 
how the child had known, by some strange intuition of love, that the 
boy was in danger ; how she had fled from the painting-room, exclaiming, 
"Guy wants me!" how he heard her wild screams, and rushed to the 
spot, to find the brave child, heedless of her own danger, standing in 
the lake, and, with hands torn and bleeding, striving with frantic force 
to release her brother, whose nurse was nowhere in sight, and only 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 49 

appeared later, with the gardener, when the child's wild cries for help had 
at last reached their occupied attention ; and how the woman's first words 
were, " Oh, my God ! he must have tried to get out of the perambulator, 
and tumbled it over in the effort; for he has done the same before^ 

Hearing this, Sir Arthur snatched his little daughter to his heart, 
with wild words of sorrow and regret, and prayers for pardon. 

Oh, miserable father! his prayers fell on deaf ears, his passionate 
kisses on lips that felt nothing. Little Ethel was insensible, and in the 
same condition she remained when they carried her upstairs, and laid 
her in me. Yes I in me they placed the little senseless form ; against my 
fading leather they laid the little soft brown head; for the last time, 
ah, me ! for the last time, I held my little darling in my silent embrace, 
while doctors, and nurse, and father alike strove to bring her back to 
sense and life. And a faint colour did steal back to the waxen face, 
and the fringed lids did open once more to life ; but, ah I not to sense. 
Little Ethel knew no one — knew nothing. Her unseeing eyes gazed 
blankly into space, her trembling lips muttered over and over again the 
same piteous words, " I killed him, they said ; / killed him." 

Oh, miserable father! your repentance, your prayers, your tender, 
passionate caresses are all too late. The little heart you stabbed will 
beat no more for you in this world ; the eyes that shrank from your angry 
gaze will never again smile and melt with love as they meet your own ; 
the sweet, childish voice will never more bless your aching ears with 
its tender tones, its sweet " Papa, papa, my own papa, I only want you." 

Oh, thrice miserable father ! In the heat of a moment's thought- 
lessness, in the mistaken anger of a horrible and unjust accusation, you 
broke your little daughter's heart — and your own. 



50 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

The months and years of thoughtless neglect had told on the sensitive 
little frame, and she was in no fit state of health to encounter the horror 
of that scene at the lake. Add to this the over-exertion her delicate 
strength had suffered, combined with the drenching, and think, if you 
can, what it was to her when Lady Lloyd accused her of killing her own 
beloved brother, and her father — her idolised father — addressed those 
awful words to her. Who can wonder body and mind gave way together ! 

The Chair gave a great sigh, and paused awhile ; then said, very 
slowly and solemnly — 

" Boys flying kites draw back their white-winged birds, 
You can't do this way, when you're flying words. 
Cautious with fire is good advice, we know ; 
Cautious with words is ten times doubly so. 
Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead ; 
But God Himself can't kill them when they're said." 

There was a long silence. The Cushion had forgotten to be either 
restless or flippant, and it was in quite a gentle tone that it at last 
inquired, "And what was the end?'' 

" She died,'' answered the Chair. "They carried her into her room, 
and put her to bed, and I saw the doctors and nurses, and her father, 
going in and out for two or three days. Then there came a hush ; there 
were no more goings to and fro, until one morning they bore her out 
in her little flower-covered coffin, into the sweet sunshine, to lay her 
beside her mother under the marble cross in the old churchyard. I saw 
Sir Arthur that day ; he was shrunken and bent, his erect carriage, his 
proud, fearless way of holding up his head, were gone, and, I think, 
gone for ever." 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 51 

*' And the boy, the little son/' asked the Cushion, "did he recover?'* 

"No," said the Chair, "the doctors could do nothing; they said 
if he had been one minute less under water he would probably have been 
saved. One minute less — think of it ; and if my lady had let Sir Arthur 
go when they heard the first cry for help, in all probability he would 
have been in time, as the terrace room was nearer the lake than the 
child's room where the artist was sitting, and was, moreover, on the 
ground floor, and opened straight on to the terrace, and the cries must 
have reached Sir Arthur and Lady Lloyd first of all." 

" Does she know what the doctors said ?" whispered the Cushion. 

" Yes ; there was an inquest on the boy, and every particular 
came out." 

"And you believe she knew it was Ethel calling, and, thinking only 
of harm to her, kept him back on purpose ? Oh, unfortunate mother ! 
She must for ever feel she killed her own child, as well as '* 

"Hush!" interrupted the Chair. "God knows. It is not for us to 
judge. If she did this thing, surely her punishment is almost heavier 
than she can bear." 

"What became of Sir Arthur and Lady Lloyd ?" asked the Cushion, 
after a pause. 

"They shut up the house and went away immediately after the 
double funeral. Sir Arthur came back occasionally, but my lady never. 
He ordered me to be put back into this room, and each time he came 
he would sit for hours just where you are. Cushion, and stare up at the 
portrait of his lost daughter. It is a year ago now since he last came, 
and I heard him mutter as he leant back in me, with one hand pressed 
to his heart, and his sad eyes fixed on the picture, ' Will you come to 

G 



52 THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 

meet me in the Better Land? wHI you forgive me then, little daughter? 
Your earthly father turned traitor, but your Heavenly Father became your 
Everlasting Comforter. He wiped all tears from your sweet eyes. Oh, 
little Ethel ! I have carried a dagger in my heart for all this time — night 
and day. I sleep and wake with the echo of those words in my ears, 
** You, who have tried to murder your brother, how dare you stand there 
and look at your horrible deed ? Go out of my sight.'* Go out of my 
sight/ he repeated, moaning. 'And she went — oh, God help me! — she 
went. Until seventy times seven,' he whispered presently; and then, 
with a heart-broken sigh, he got up and went away. 

" He left the castle next day to return to Lady Lloyd, and lately I 
heard the servants say he had died abroad, and that the new heir is 
coming home." 

*' I suppose it's true," said the Cushion, '* or why should I have been 
brought here ; and, moreover, a quantity of other new things came at the 
same time as I did. Poor Sir Arthur, I can't help pitying him greatly, 
and that poor pretty little girl." 

" She is better off," said the Chair. ''She had too tender and sensitive 
a nature for the wear and tear of life. She would have suffered too much 
had she lived. I expect God knew that, and so He took her back to 
her mother." 

"And to Himself," whispered the Cushion. 

"Yes," answered the Chair, reverently. "And now Sir Arthur is 
with them, and all dark things are made clear." 

" I am much obliged for your story, Mr. Chair," said the Cushion 
politely, "and I'm very sorry I was hasty and disagreeable, and said 
nasty things of your faded look and old horsehair stuffing. You have 



THE ARM-CHAIR'S STORY. 53 

seen great sorrow, and you have a good heart. I respect and admire 
you, and I'll never again try to hurt your poor weak spring." 

" Thank you," answered the Chair. " I hope they will let you remain 
in me, for I find you warm and comfortable to my old frame ; and now 
that you are so civil and nice-spoken, it is quite a pleasure to chat with 
you. But I declare the dawn begins to peep in through the shutters ; 
let us both try to get a nap before the housemaids come in to dust us 
and push us about." 

" Good night, then, or rather good morning," said the Cushion. 
" You ought to sleep well after all this talking." 

"Good night," answered the Chair; and in another minute the gilt 
tassels were slowly bobbing to and fro, and Master Cushion was asleep. 

But the old Chair, looking up at the child's picture, whispered, 
" Little sweetheart, it is all right now, you have found your father again ; 
his sore heart is comforted and healed, for he knows he is forgiven." 



THE JEWEL PALACE 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 



I AM so tired of lying here, Maggie ; I do wish I were you, and 
I could run and play as you do. Oh, it's very hard," said little 
Tim Macgregor to his sister, one sunny summer day, when the latter 
ran into the cottage room, all flushed and breathless with playing and 
romping. 

The speaker was a pale-faced, sickly-looking boy of about nine years 
of age, with great grey solemn eyes, under which sickness had painted 
two dark hollows with brushes steeped in pain and sleeplessness. He 
was lying on a rough couch, drawn as near the open window as the 
space would allow, and the crutches beside him told that the poor lad 
was a cripple. For seven years he had been as hardy and merry as 
anyone could wish, but a fall from a ladder one sad day had injured 
his spine and hip, and poor Tim would never again in this world be 
straight or strong. His sister Maggie, who was a year younger, was 
very good and kind to him, and often left her companions and their 



58 THE JEWEL PALACE. 

merry play to sit by Tim, and amuse him with chat, and such little 
games as he was able for. 

Mrs. Macgregor was a widow, and, being left in very poor circum- 
stances by her late husband, was obliged to work as a charwoman to 
support herself and children. She was, consequently, a great deal 
away from home ; and when Maggie was at school, or at play, little 
Tim had to spend many weary, lonely hours, only occa- 
sionally cheered by the kindly visit of some neighbour. 

On his good days he was able to move about the 

room a little, with the aid of his crutches, but a few 

steps at a time tired him, and very often for weeks 

together he was quite unable to stir from his couch. 

Every evening a labouring man, who lived close by, came 

into the cottage to carry Tim up to his little bedroom 

in the roof; and each morning the same kind neighbour 

brought him down again to the little sitting-room beside 

the kitchen. The cottage consisted of these two rooms 

on the ground floor, and above were two bedrooms, only 

separated from each other by a slight partition, in one of 

which Mrs. Macgregor and Maggie slept, and the other belonged to Tim. 

It was a poor close little chamber enough, but it had a good-sized 

window, through which Tim often gazed for many silent, painful hours 

at the sky and stars, wondering if up in those lovely peaceful regions 

pain and sorrow existed, and if he should ever put aside his wooden 

crutches and his couch, and walk and skip and run in the heavenly 

habitations that, he felt sure, must lie somewhere up there behind those 

glittering constellations. 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 59 

On this particular day when my story opens, poor Tim had been 
more than usually suffering and irritable; the hours of his loneliness 
had seemed terribly long, and when little Maggie burst in, beaming with 
strong health and youthful energy, the sick boy felt with renewed keenness 
and regret the fact of his own incapacity, and out came the outspoken 
moan, " I'm so tired of lying here, Maggie ; I do wish I were you, and 
could run and play as you do. Oh, it is very hardl" And so saying, 
poor Tim broke into a flood of bitter tears. Maggie was very kind and 
gentle and sympathising, and kissed and petted little Tim, and told him 
she had come to stay with him now, and 
would read to him out of her beautiful 
new fairy-tale book, that kind Miss 
Graham at the Hall had given her a few 
days ago ; and after a little Tim grew 
calmer, and consented to listen to the 
reading ; so Maggie fetched from up- 
stairs her book, unfolding its paper wrap- 
ping with much pride and delight, and 

softly rubbed her first finger up and down the smooth, bright red cover, 
with its gilt embellishments. She settled Tim's pillows more comfortably 
for him, and then brought a low stool for herself, and, placing this at the 
head of the couch, she sat down and opened the precious volume. 

"Which story shall I read, Tim?" she asked. "There are ever so 
many in my book." 

" Read me out some of the names," he answered, "and then I'll tell 
you which I'd like." 

So she turned to the table of contents, and read— "The Legend 



6o THE JEWEL PALACE. 

of the Snow Wind," ''Little Marjories Dream," ''The Coral City," 
"The Star Fairy," and the 

"Stop!" interrupted Tim quickly, "that will do; read me about the 
Star Fairy. Fm always wishing I could know something about the 
beautiful stars. Fm quite ready, Maggie; begin, please." 

And so Maggie, somewhat slowly, and with a good deal of emphasis 
on wrong words and many mispronounced ones, proceeded to read 
the story. 

Fm not going to follow her, my little friends, because any of you 
that likes can buy the story of the Star Fairy, and it had, apparently, 
no actual bearing on my little history, although, no doubt, it had its 
influences. Suffice it to say, that Maggie read as well as she could, 
and Tim listened with rapturous attention, frequently clasping his slender 
thin fingers, and sighing with excess of satisfaction. 

When, by-and-by, Mrs. Macgregor came home, she found her 
two children happily chatting together, and after supper, their kind 
neighbour, Patrick Nicholls, came in as usual, and carried Tim up the 
narrow little wooden stairs to his room. Mrs. Macgregor and Maggie 
both saw him comfortably settled, kissed him, and said "Good-night;" 
and then, leaving the window, as usual, with the curtain undrawn, they 
left him to himself and to sleep. 

But Tim could not sleep. He kept thinking of the Star Fairy, and 
wondering if he should ever see her and her beautiful home; and then, 
as he stared out through his window at the darkening sky, he saw, one 
by one, the bright clusters of twinkling gold break through the deep blue 
cloud-curtain, and his heart beat quicker, and his blood ran faster in his 
veins, as he thought that perhaps — perhaps, some day, he might throw 



THE yEWEL PALACE. 6i 

aside his crutches and wallc hand-in-hand with the Star Fairy right into 
those wonderful, sparlcling countries. And as he stared at the twinkling 
sky, one particular star, larger than the rest, began to assume a shape, 
or rather seemed to Tim to be 
getting into the form of a great 
castle or palace I 

With a low laugh, he mur- 
mured, " I 'm dreaming," and, 
rubbing his eyes, looked again 
through the transparent window- 
panes. Yes 1 truly it was so I 
The great star in front was not 
only enlarging, but was distinctly 

shaping itself into the similitude of a great palace. As Tim gazed, 
it grew larger and larger ; and by degrees, just outside his window, 
there stood, or seemed to stand, an enormous, gorgeous castle, its 
windows, doors, sides, roofs, all alike glittering and beautiful. Little 
Tim sprang excitedly up, and seized his crutches (forgetting entirely his 
scanty night-attire and the fact of his powerlessness) ; he made straight 
for the stairs, which he descended with merely a vague, passing wonder 
at the ease with which he was able to go down them. He crossed the 
little room below, opened the door, and went noiselessly out into the 
cool night air. 

A narrow roadway and a little bit of grass-common only seemed 
to separate him from the shining palace, and he hurried on his crutches 
across both ; but only to find that a flat field lay before him, and the 
longed-for and lovely dwelling seemed to lie on the far side. Across 



62 THE JEWEL PALACE. 

the field Tim limped and stumbled, and still the enchanted mansion 
seemed no nearer. On the poor boy went — on — over several fields, 
across sundry roads, with an intense longing in his heart, and a 
strange, resolved patience in his spirit, 
till at last — oh, happy moment ! — he 
reached the golden, glittering portals. 
And — the door stood open I 

With a low cry, Tim sprang for- 
ward, clasping his hands together, and, 
in doing so, dropped his crutches just 
outside the entrance door — dropped them 
quite unconsciously, and unheeded. 

Through the porch Tim ran, rather 
than walked, into a most beautiful hall. 
He could not describe its beauties by- 
and-by, when he tried to ; and if he 
who saw could not, how can I, who 
have not seen ? But picture to your- 
selves all you can imagine that is most fair, and perhaps you may 
gain a faint idea of what this palace was like. 

Its marble floors, its crystal walls, its golden doors, its ceiling of 
twinkling stars, all combined to produce a picture of great beauty; and 
yet this hall seemed to be only the ante-room to still more perfect saloons; 
for, as Tim gazed, amazed and bewildered, a great purple cloud-curtain 
seemed to drift aside, and out through the opening so revealed flew a 
number of figures — all alike clothed in white raiment, all alike with soft, 
transparent, feathery wings, and each and all glittering with crown and 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 63 

collar of wonderful jewels. Softly they all alighted, just in front of Tim, 
and one sprang forward whose brows were crowned with turquoise-stones, 
and his throat and waist collared and girded with the same clear blue, 
and whose fair hands held a great cluster of star-like forget-me-nots; 

and he spoke — 

" I am the Turquoise Jewel, and my clear blue can still be found 
on earth, even in the darkest places; so seek for me, little Tim, and 
forget me not." 

And as the fair creature fluttered and faded into space, a choir of 
voices seemed to sing, '* Blessed are they that have Faith ; for they shall 
abide for ever in the Palace of the King." 

Then out floated another lovely Being, clear-eyed, fair, and beautiful, 
and the silver-soft radiance of moonlight shimmered in her every 
movement ; and she spoke — 

" I am the Pearl Jewel ; see round my head and throat the chaplet 
and collar of lustrous pearls ; they are my emblems, and you, little 
mortal, can win them also, if you try." 

And again the voices rang out in lovely chorus — " Blessed are the 
pure in heart; for they shall gleam as pearls in the Palace of the 
King." 

Then yet another spirit came towards Tim ; his fair white robes 
were brocaded with rubies, his shoes even were sewn with the precious 
stones, and on his brow was a glowing coronet of the same ; and he 
clasped his hands together and spoke aloud — 

" I am the Ruby Jewel, and my name is Devotion. On earth I 
was poor and pale and ugly and sick, but I knew how to love. I 
loved my everlasting Sovereign ; all my heart's best worship I gave to 



H 2 



64 THE JEWEL PALACE. 

Him ; and now He has filled me with colour and beauty, and I shine 
for ever in the Palace of my King." 

And the others all sang in jubilant chorus, ''Oh, blessed are they 
who love ; for the Lord God shall wipe all tears from their eyes, and 
they shall glow as rubies in the Palace of the King." 

Then from out the throng of shining star-like spirits, flashed one 
whose robes were fashioned of star-dust, glittering, colour-full, whose 
brow was surmounted with rays of flashing, full-hued lights, whose every 
movement showed a rainbow radiance more lovely than words could tell ; 
and he spoke — 

" I am the Diamond Jewel. Oh, little Tim, pure as pearls, clear as 
crystal, rare as the flawless diamond, and perfect as Heaven itself, is 
the Truth Spirit. Seek for it, pray for it, and by-and-by who knows 
but that your everlasting robes shall be also glittering with star 
diamonds, and your brow crowned with the jewels of truth." 

And the voices sang forth, "Blessed are they who seek Truth and 
love it ; for they shall be as diamonds in the Palace of the King." 

And yet once more there came forth one whose robes were of soft, 
transparent sea-blue, and her waist girt with great stones of clear 
sapphire, and her fair hair crowned with them, and out of her lily-hued 
face two pure blue eyes, like stars of God's own making, looked down 
straight into Tim's ; and she spoke — 

"Oh, little Tim, I was once weak and crooked and crippled like 
you, and the world was to me a place of sore trouble, need, and suffering, 
I envied the strong, I repined over my own weakness; but one day, 
down through the sunbeams. One came to me who knew all my grief 
and understood all my trouble, and as one whom his mother comforteth 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 65 

so He comforted me, and He showed me how to travel along life's 
journey, and how to gain admittance into the 'Jewel Palace,' and into 
the presence of the King." 

And little Tim, clasping his hands and gazing at the Sapphire Jewel, 
said, " How ? oh, teach me how ! " 

And the Jewel answered, "You must travel along the road called 
Patience ; it is narrow and long, and often steep and difficult, and many 
are the rough and stony places that lie in its way. Oh, I was tired 
often, and sometimes all but hopeless; but at those times I would 
close my eyes and think, and straight through 
the strange mists of thought would come into 
my mind a verse I had heard once in church — 
'And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord, in 
that day when I make up My jewels.' One 
of the Lord's jewels I Oh, what a comfort 
that was to a helpless, crippled, useless child I 
and when I opened my eyes, there, beside me 
in the thorny road, was a beautiful cluster of 

forget-me-nots. I pulled them, and put them into my bosom, and while 
they bloomed there I felt and knew that I and my need would never be 
forgotten ; and so, whenever the Patience road grew very hard to follow, 
I went to seek again at the roadside for the sweet blue star forget-me-nots." 

"But," said Tim, very slowly, "if there were none there?" 

A radiant smile beamed from the sapphire eyes of the Spirit, as she 
answered, " None ever sought for Faith and failed to find it ; in my need, 
in my faltering weakness, I prayed for the star flowers, and I always 
found them, Tim." 



66 THE JEWEL PALACE. 

" But," objected Tim, frowning slightly, with a puzzled expression, 
" is Faith enough ? The other spirits told me that Purity, Love, Truth, 
were their jewels in the Palace of the King, and you, I don't know what 
you 2LTe?" And even as the questioning words died on his lips, there 
burst forth from the spirit throng a song of exceeding beauty, " Blessed 
are the peace-makers, blessed are the comforters ; for they shall glow as 
I sapphires in the Palace of the 

ij. ,1 King." 

" No, little Tim," answered the 
Sapphire Jewel, " Faith is not 
enough, but it comes first. Gather 
your star Forget-me-nots, and bear 
them always with you, for they will 
speak to your heart, and tell you 
more still is wanted. They will 
whisper to you that out of true 
Faith good work must come ; a 
pure life, a perfect truth, a devoted 
love that brings forth fruits of 
charity and good living; these are all wanted to fit you for the Palace 
of the King." 

"Then," asked the little boy, "why are you not covered with pearls, 
and rubies, and diamonds, and other jewels, as well as sapphires; and 
why are the other spirits not ?" 

"Oh, little inquiring mortal," interrupted the Sapphire Jewel, "no 
creature is ail perfect. In the robes of the King alone all excellence, all 
perfection, all beauty are combined. In His glory all jewels are united; 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 67 

but we who are His servants rejoice even in possessing a portion of His 
lustre/' 

''And what will be my jewel if I walk along the Patience road, and 
gather the flowers of Faith ?" asked Tim anxiously. 

And the spirit chorus sang in melodious unison, '' Blessed are they 
who suffer in patient endurance ; for they shall gleam as beryls in the 
Palace of the King." 

And as they sang in fuller, louder chorus, the great purple cloud- 
curtain swept down and hid away the jewel spirits, and floated its soft 
folds even between the glorious glittering mansion and the little crippled 
boy, who suddenly found himself outside the lovely Jewel Palace; the 
door shut, and his crutches again in his hands. As he gazed perplexedly 
at the closed golden door, it grew paler; the whole building began to 
get dimmer and more indistinct each instant— diminishing, fading, 
passing — until, all in a moment, Tim was lying in his own poor 
little room, staring through his open window at the great glittering 
star, that almost seemed to smile on him as he looked. 

When Mrs. Macgregor entered Tim s room in the morning, the little 
boy was lying fast asleep, one little thin arm flung under his head, and 
on his delicate face lay the radiance of a lovely smile — so fair a smile, 
that the mother who saw it suddenly thanked God that some vision 
of joy had come to her poor crippled boy. 

All that morning Tim was very quiet and thoughtful, and when 
Maggie returned from school in the afternoon, he asked her to pick 
him a bunch of forget-me-nots, which she very quickly did, as plenty 
of them grew beside a little streamlet that trickled at the back of Mrs. 
Macgregor's cottage. 



68 THE JEWEL PALACE. 

**Put them in a mug for me, Maggie dear," he said; ''and then 
will you bring me some paper and a pencil ? for I want to write down 
something before I forget" 

''What do you want to write?" asked Maggie curiously, as she 
brought the necessary materials ; but Tim only smiled at her, and said, 
"You shall hear some day, Maggie, but not yet; I must see first what 
good things my star-flowers will help me to win," and his thin fingers 
lovingly caressed the blue blossoms. 

"What do you mean, Tim? I don't see how these blue flowers 
can bring you any good things; why, they are only common weeds!" 

"Common! No, Maggie; God made them, and they are called 
' Forget-me-nots/ They mean belief, Maggie— trust— they are the very 
emblems of Faith." 

Maggie was rather puzzled, and a little surprised; and she grew 
more puzzled and surprised still, as days and weeks went on ; and not 
only she, but her mother and the neighbours also, for Tim was like a 
different boy — so gentle, so quiet — enduring hours of pain and sleepless- 
ness with a sweet patience that won him the love and tender admiration 
of all around. The irritable moments came sometimes ; a repining word 
would now and then rise to his lips ; but when the bitter spirit came to 
tempt and try him, he closed his eyes and prayed for the gift, of Faith, 
and truly, as the Sapphire Jewel had told him, he never failed to find 
it, and with it the will, the power to bring forth the fruits of Faith. 

And now I think I can hear some little reader ask, "And what 
became of Tim? and did he ever read to Maggie the story of his 
wonderful dream ? " 



THE JEWEL PALACE. 69 

And because I remember how greatly I myself always desired to 
hear "the very end," I will tell you just what I know about it. 

It was only the other day that Tim put his little manuscript into 
Maggie's hands, with permission to read it. 

Maggie is growing into a woman now, and a good and useful 
woman she promises to be, for Tim's example and life have had a great 
and holy influence upon her ; and when she placed the pencilled papers 
- before me, a beautiful smile filled her eyes, that were moist with unshed 
tears, as she said, " I don't grieve for Tim, ma'am. I am glad the 
Patience road is travelled, the Jewel Palace entered ; and I know — I know 
the Heavenly Voices are singing in glorious welcome — 

" Blessed are they who do the will of our Father which is in 
Heaven; for they shall shine as Stars in the Palace of the King." 



MtTGut Ward & Co.. Umited, Rojml Ulctcr Woriu, BelTait.