196

THE PANELLED HOUSE.

“Putting this matter out of the question, can
you deny that you are three hundred pounds in
debt ?” said his father.

Escott had not realized that the whole of his
debts amounted to so much, and stood silent and
confused, but none the less angry.

“It is the old story,” said Colonel Armyn:
'<“the way all the Escotts have gone, one after
| another. You can’t say that I did not warn you,
| my poor boy.”

“T don’t wish for your pity, thank you, sir,
said Escott bitterly, “I intend to pay my debts
honourably—you need not fear. What a pity you

christened me Escott, since you have such an

33

aversion to the family.”

“ No insolence, if you please,” said the Colonel,
roused to a sudden soldierly dignity which was
not without effect on his son. “I do not intend
to expose you to any more of such temptations. I
will pay your debts, but I shall not send you to
Oxford again at the end of your year. I propose
that you should spend your time in studying for
the artillery with me for some little while: after-

9

| wards
| scott had been dumbfounded during the time
in which his father had said the last twenty words:
then his eyes blazed, he gave vent to an angry
imprecation, and then, like Naaman, he “turned
_and went away in a rage,” more furious than he
had ever been before.

The fact of the beginning of his troubles being
undeserved suffering, voluntarily endured for an-
other, did not save him now. Strength of will
-and generosity will not make up for the want of
humility and submission: and when Escott went
wrong at this crisis of his history, it even seemed
as if this act of nobleness had made him a worse
man. Of course it was not so in reality: every
good deed, as we know, is but a step to a higher :
but if that higher is refused, the fall is all the
deeper from it. And so, for the present, we leave
him, a prey to the demon of wrath and discontent,
driven out for a season by Winny’s sweet influence,
but returned in sevenfold power to the empty
| chamber of his heart. Poor Escott little knew
what he was harbouring, or what future he was
preparing for himself.

| VIII.
BISHOP MORNINGTON’S CHAPEL.

At last I got unto the gladsome hill,
Where lay my hope,

Where lay my heart: and climbing still,

When IT had gain’d the brow and top,

A lake of brackish water on the ground
Was all I found.

| G. HERBERT.
|
~“ Arr you going into the town so early, Nest ?”

said Winny one day about a month later, in the
beginning of the harvest.

“Yes: I want to get through my shopping, and
have the cathedral service afterwards as a treat,”
said Nest. “I shall manage it nicely as it is, I
think.”

“ Aunt Hermy wants something, I know,” said
Winny : “wait a little while, and I will find out
what.” And she flew out of the room, while Nest
took up a volume of Tennyson, and was quite lost
|in it by the time Winny came back armed with
sundry commissions for her.

‘A new flower-vase for the best room, because
Edward is coming on Saturday. There, Nest:
you will do that with all your heart, won’t you?
I will pick a bunch of Gloire de Dijon roses to
put in it, to hail him back after his long absence.”

“Tt will be very nice to see him again,” said
Nest. “A whole month next Saturday since he
has been here !”

“You take the scarcity of his letters very calmly,
at any rate,” said Winny, making a sort of tentative
thrust.

“Of course I do,” said Nest looking up. “If
you trust people you don’t get angry because they
happen to be too busy to write to you. That is
what I hope you will know soon, dear Winny.”

“Oh, Nest, I know it’s very horrid and wretched
of me to tease you,” said Winny repentantly : “but
I couldn’t help it then for the life of me. Now
go off, there’s a dear, or you'll never get to the
cathedral before five.”

And Nest went obediently, looking as fresh and
cool as a white violet in her cotton dress and shady
hat. Winny watched her until she turned into
the lane and out of sight, and then all the bright-
ness went out of her face, and she leaned her head
upon her hands. Her thoughts were something
like this: she did not speak them, for people never
do soliloquize in real life; and then she was hardly
conscious enough of them to be said to say them
to herself :—

“T wish I knew how to set things right !
are all going wrong.

They

it; and I know every thing is wrong with Escott
and me. How pleased I was when he told me
about his Oxford scrape, and he really was very
good about it. I hoped he was always going to
be good after it ; and yet I am afraid—I am afraid
he has not been. Oh, Escott, if you knew how I
think of you all day long, I know you would try
to be good for my sake !

“How odd it is how one changes! once I

if any body I cared for was unhappy, and now I
really think I should not care so much to hear that
i he was unhappy, if I could be sure he was trying

I know something is wrong |
with Nest and Edward, though she won’t believe |

thought it the very worst thing that could happen |