



Produced by Sandra Laythorpe.  HTML version by Al Haines.










LADY HESTER;

OR,

URSULA'S NARRATIVE.


by

CHARLOTTE M. YONGE





CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.     SAULT ST. PIERRE

CHAPTER II.    TREVORSHAM

CHAPTER III.   THE PEERAGE CASE

CHAPTER IV.    SKIMPING'S FARM

CHAPTER V.     SPINNEY LAWN

CHAPTER VI.    THE WHITE DOE'S WARNING

CHAPTER VII.   HUNTING

CHAPTER VIII.  DUCK SHOOTING

CHAPTER IX.    TREVOR'S LEGACY





CHAPTER I.

SAULT ST. PIERRE.


I write this by desire of my brothers and sisters, that if any reports
of our strange family history should come down to after generations the
thing may be properly understood.

The old times at Trevorsham seem to me so remote, that I can hardly
believe that we are the same who were so happy then.  Nay, Jaquetta
laughs, and declares that it is not possible to be happier than we have
been since, and Fulk would have me remember that all was not always
smooth even in those days.

Perhaps not--for him, at least, dear fellow, in those latter times; but
when I think of the old home, the worst troubles that rise before me
are those of the back-board and the stocks, French in the school-room,
and Miss Simmonds' "Lady Ursula, think of your position!"

And as to Jaquetta, she was born under a more benignant star.  Nobody
could have put a back-board on her any more than on a kitten.

Our mother had died (oh! how happily for herself!) when Jaquetta was a
baby, and Miss Simmonds most carefully ruled not only over us, but over
Adela Brainerd, my father's ward, who was brought up with us because
she had no other relation in the world.

Besides, my father wished her to marry one of my brothers.  It would
have done very well for either Torwood or Bertram, but unluckily, as it
seemed, neither of them could take to the notion.  She was a dear
little thing, to be sure, and we were all very fond of her; but, as
Bertram said, it would have been like marrying Jaquetta, and Torwood
had other views, to which my father would not then listen.

Then Bertram's regiment was ordered to Canada, and that was the real
cause of it all, though we did not know it till long after.

Bertram was starting out on a sporting expedition with a Canadian
gentleman, when about ten miles from Montreal they halted at a farm
with a good well-built house, named Sault St. Pierre, all looking
prosperous and comfortable, and a young farmer, American in his
ways--free-spoken, familiar, and blunt--but very kindly and friendly,
was at work there with some French-Canadian labourers.

Bertram's friend knew him and often halted there on hunting
expeditions, so they went into the house--very nicely furnished, a
pretty parlour with muslin curtains, a piano, and everything pleasant;
and Joel Lea called his wife, a handsome, fair young woman. Bertram
says from the first she put him in mind of some one, and he was trying
to make out who it could be.  Then came the wife's mother, a neat
little delicate, bent woman, with dark eyes, that looked, Bertram said,
as if they had had some great fright and never recovered it.  They
called her Mrs. Dayman.

She was silent at first, and only helped her daughter and the maid to
get the dinner, and an excellent dinner it was; but she kept on looking
at Bertram, and she quite started when she heard him called Mr. Trevor.
When they were just rising up, and going to take leave, she came up to
him in a frightened agitated manner, as if she could not help it, and
said--

"Sir, you are so like a gentleman I once knew.  Was any relation of
yours ever in Canada?"

"My father was in Canada," answered Bertram.

"Oh no," she said then, very much affected, "the Captain Trevor I knew
was killed in the Lake Campaign in 1814.  It must be a mistake, yet you
put me in mind of him so strangely."

Then Bertram protested that she must mean my father, for that he had
been a captain in the --th, and had been stationed at York (as Toronto
was then called), but was badly wounded in repulsing the American
attack on the Lakes in 1814.

"Not dead?" she asked, with her cheeks getting pale, and a sort of
excitement about her, that made Bertram wonder, at the moment, if there
could have been any old attachment between them, and he explained how
my father was shipped off from England between life and death; and how,
when he recovered, he found his uncle dying, and the title and property
coming to him.

"And he married!" she said, with a bewildered look; and Bertram told
her that he had married Lady Mary Lupton--as his uncle and father had
wished--and how we four were their children.  I can fancy how kindly
and tenderly Bertram would speak when he saw that she was anxious and
pained; and she took hold of his hand and held him, and when he said
something of mentioning that he had seen her, she cried out with a sort
of terror, "Oh no, no, Mr. Trevor, I beg you will not.  Let him think
me dead, as I thought him."  And then she drew down Bertram's tall head
to her, and fairly kissed his forehead, adding, "I could not help it,
sir; an old woman's kiss will do you no harm!"

Then he went away.  He never did tell us of the meeting till long
after.  He was not a great letter writer, and, besides, he thought my
father might not wish to have the flirtations of his youth brought up
against him.  So we little knew!

But it seems that the daughter and son-in-law were just as much amazed
as Bertram, and when he was gone, and the poor old lady sank into her
chair and burst out crying, and as they came and asked who or what this
was, she sobbed out, "Your brother Hester!  Oh! so like him--my
husband!" or something to that effect, as unawares.  She wanted to take
it back again, but of course Hester would not let her, and made her
tell the whole.

It seems that her name was Faith Le Blanc; she was half English, half
French-Canadian, and lived in a village in a very unsettled part, where
Captain Trevor used to come to hunt, and where he made love to her, and
ended by marrying her--with the knowledge of her family and his brother
officers, but not of his family--just before he was ordered to the Lake
frontier.  The war had stirred up the Indians to acts of violence they
had not committed for many years, and a tribe of them came down on the
village, plundering, burning, killing, and torturing those whom they
had known in friendly intercourse.

Faith Le Blanc had once given some milk to a papoose upon its mother's
back, and perhaps for this reason she was spared, but everyone
belonging to her was, she believed, destroyed, and she was carried away
by the tribe, who wanted to make her one of themselves; and she knew
that if she offended them, such horrors as she had seen practised on
others would come on her.

However, they had gone to another resort of theirs, where there was a
young hunter who often visited them, and was on friendly terms.  When
he found that there was a white woman living as a captive among them,
he spared no effort to rescue her.  Both he and she were often in
exceeding danger; but he contrived her escape at last, and brought her
through the woods to a place of safety, and there her child was born.

It was over the American frontier, and it was long before she could
write to her husband.  She never knew what became of her letter, but
the hunter friend, Piers Dayman, showed her an American paper which
mentioned Captain Trevor among the officers killed in their attack.
Dayman was devoted to her, and insisted on marrying her, and bringing
up her daughter as his own.  I fancy she was a woman of gentle passive
temper, and had been crushed and terrified by all she had gone through,
so as to have little instinct left but that of clinging to the
protector who had taken her up when she had lost everything else; and
she married him.  Nor did Hester guess till that very day that Piers
Dayman was not her father!

There were other children, sons who have given themselves to hunting
and trapping in the Hudson's Bay Company's territory; but Hester
remained the only daughter, and they educated her well, sending her to
a convent at Montreal, where she learnt a good many accomplishments.
They were