



Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by Google Books.










Transcriber's Notes:
     1. Page scan source:
        https://books.google.com/books?id=QKYxAQAAMAAJ
        (Cornell University)






COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS


TAUCHNITZ EDITION.

=============

VOL. 966.

THE RED COURT FARM.

BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD.

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. 2.



LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.
PARIS: C. REINWALD & CIE, 15, RUE DES SAINTS-PÈRES.
PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI,
     AND AT NICE, 48, QUAI ST. JEAN BAPTISTE.


_This Collection is, published with copyright for Continental
circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to
introduce the volumes into England or into any British Colony_.






COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS.

VOL. 966.
---------
THE RED COURT FARM BY MRS. HENRY WOOD.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.






THE
RED COURT FARM.

A NOVEL.

BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD,
AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "TREVLYN HOLD," ETC.


_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.



LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1868.

_The Right of Translation is reserved_.







CONTENTS

OF VOLUME II.

CHAP.
      I. At School in London.
     II. Captain Copp.
    III. Isaac Thornycroft's Stratagem.
     IV. In Love.
      V. Wilful Disobedience.
     VI. The Half-moon Beach.
    VII. My Lady at the Red Court.
   VIII. A Last Interview.
     IX. The Crowd in the Early Morning.
      X. Shot down from the Heights.
     XI. The Coroner's Inquest.
    XII. Robert Hunter's Funeral.
   XIII. Curious Rumours.
    XIV. Robert Hunter's Ghost.
     XV. In the Churchyard Porch.
    XVI. In the Dog-cart to Jutpoint.
   XVII. Ladies disputing.
  XVIII. Disclosing it to Justice Thornycroft.






THE RED COURT FARM.



PART THE THIRD.




CHAPTER I.
At School in London.


Two years have gone by, and it is June again.

A good, substantial house in one of the western suburbs of the
metropolis--Kensington. By the well-rubbed brass plate on the iron
gate of the garden, and the lady's name on it--"Miss Jupp"--it may be
taken for a boarding-school. In fact, it is one: a small select school
(as so many schools proclaim themselves now; but this really is such);
and, kept by Miss Jupp, once of Katterley. That is, by Miss Jupp and
two of her sisters, but she wisely calls it by her own name singly,
avoiding the ugly style of the plural "Miss Jupp's establishment."

Fortune changes with a great many of us; every day, every hour of our
lives, some are going up, others down. When death removed old Mr. Jupp
(an event that occurred almost close upon poor Mrs. Lake's), then his
daughters found that they had not enough to get along in the world.
Wisely taking time and circumstances by the forelock, the three elder
ones, Mary, Margaret, and Emma, removed to London, took a good house
at Kensington, and by the help of influential friends very soon had
pupils in it. Dorothy and Rose were married; Louisa remained at
Katterley with her widowed mother. They professed to take ten pupils
only: once or twice the number had been increased to twelve; the terms
were high, but the teaching was good, and the arrangements were really
first-class. It was with the Miss Jupps that Mary Anne Thornycroft had
been placed. And she did not run away from them.

Quite the contrary. The summer holidays have just set in, and she is
to go home for them; as she did the previous midsummer; but she is
expressing a half wish, now as she stands before Miss Margaret Jupp,
that she could spend them where she is, in London. Long and long ago
has she grown reconciled to the regularity of a school life, and to
regard Miss Jupp's as a second and happy home. She spent the first
Christmas holidays with them; the second Christmas (last) at
Cheltenham with her stepmother; she and her brother Cyril.

Lady Ellis (retaining still the name) is in very ill health now.
Almost simultaneously with quitting the Red Court after her marriage,
a grave inward disorder manifested itself. Symptoms of it indeed had
been upon her for some time, even before leaving India; but--as is the
case with many other symptoms--they had been entirely disregarded,
their grave nature unsuspected. Instead of leading a gay life at the
gay inland watering-place, flaunting her charms and her fashion in the
eyes of other sojourners, Lady Ellis found herself compelled to live a
very quiet one. She has a small villa, an establishment of two
servants only; and she does not wish for more. In heart, in nature,
she is growing altered, and the refining, holy influence that very
often--God be praised!--changes the whole heart and spirit with a
change which is not of this world, is coming over her. Two visits only
has she paid to the Red Court Farm, staying about six weeks each time,
and Mr. Thornycroft goes to Cheltenham two or three times a year. Miss
Thornycroft and her stepmother are civil to each other now, not to say
friendly; and when she invited the young lady and her brother Cyril
for the holidays last Christmas, they went. The previous midsummer
they had spent together at Coastdown, it having been one of the
periods of my lady's two visits. Fortune had contrived well for Lady
Ellis, and her marriage with the wealthy master of the Red Court Farm
enabled her to enjoy every substantial comfort in her hour of need.

Two other young ladies connected in a degree with this history are at
Miss Jupp's this evening; the rest of the pupils have left. One of the
two we have met before, one not. They are in the room now, and you may
look at them. All three, including Miss Thornycroft, are about the
same age--between eighteen and nineteen. She, Mary Anne, is the same
tall, stately, fair, handsome, and (it must be owned) haughty girl
that you knew before; the fine face is resolute as ever, the cold blue
eyes as honest and uncompromising. She had been allowed to dress as
expensively at Miss Jupp's as her inclination leads: to-day she wears
a rich pale-blue silk; blue ribbons are falling from her fair hair.
She is standing doing nothing: but sitting in a chair by her side,
toying with a bit of fancy-work, is a plain, dark, merry-looking girl
in a good useful nut-brown silk, Susan Hunter. She is the sister of
Robert Hunter, several years his junior, and has been sent up from
Yorkshire by her aunt, with whom she lives, to have two years of
"finish" at a London school. Accident--not their having once known
something of her brother--led to the school fixed on being Miss
Jupp's. And now for the last.

In a grey alpaca dress, trimmed with a little ribbon velvet of the
same hue, her head bent patiently over a pile of drawings that she is
touching up, sits the third. A very different footing in the school,
hers, from that of the other two; _they_ pay the high, full terms;
_she_ pays nothing, but works out her board with industry. Have you
forgotten that pale, gentle face, one of the sweetest both in feature
and expression ever looked upon, with the fine silky chestnut hair
modestly braided round it, and the soft brown eyes that take all the
best feelings of a genuine heart by storm? The weary look telling of
incessant industry, the pile of work that she does not look up from,
the cheap holiday-dress (her best) costing little, all proclaim
sufficiently her dependent position in the house--a slight, graceful
girl of middle height, with a sort of drooping look in her figure, as
if she were, and had been all her life, in the habit of being pushed
into the background?

It is Anna Chester. Her life since we saw her has been like that
of a dray horse. Mrs. Chester placed her at an inferior school as
pupil-teacher, where she had many kinds of things to do, and the
mistress's own children to take care of in the holidays. For a year
and a half she stayed at it, doing her best patiently, and then the
Miss Jupps took her. She has to work very much still, and her health
is failing. Captain and Mrs. Copp have invited her to Coastdown for a
change, and she goes down to-morrow with Miss Thornycroft. Miss Hunter
spends the holidays at school.

Mrs. Chester? Mrs. Chester quitted Guild, to set up a fashionable
boarding-house in London. It did not answer; the mass of people
remained cruelly indifferent to its advertisements; and the few who
tried it ran away and never paid her. She then removed to Paris, where
(as some friends assured her) a good English boarding-house was much
wanted; and, if her own reports are to be trusted, she is likely to do
pretty well at it.

There remains only one more person to mention of those we formerly
knew; and that is Robert Hunter. Putting his shoulder to the wheel in
earnest, as only a resolute and capable man can put it; I had almost
said as one only who has some expiation to work out; his days are
spent in hard industry. He is the practical energetic man of business;
never spending a moment in waste, never willingly allowing himself
recreation. The past folly, the past idleness of that time, not so
very long gone by, recurs to his memory less frequently than it used,
but ever with the feeling of a nightmare. He is still with the same
firm, earning a liberal salary. Since a day or two only has he been in
London, but there's some talk of his remaining in it now. Nothing
seems to be further from his thoughts than any sort of pleasure: it
would seem that he has one vocation alone in life--work.

These three young ladies were going out this afternoon. To a grand
house, too: Mrs. Macpherson's. The professor, good simple man, had
been content, socially speaking, with a shed on the top of Aldgate
pump: not so madam. As the professor rose more and more into
distinction, _she_ rose; and the residence in Bloomsbury was exchanged
for a place at Kensington. Possibly the calling occasionally on the
Miss Jupps, had put it into her head. A house as grand as its name
in the matter of decoration; but not of undue size: Mrs. Macpherson
had good common sense, and generally exercised it. A dazzling white
front with a pillared portico and much ornamentation outside and
in--"Majestic Villa." The professor had wanted to change the name, but
madam preferred to retain it. It was not very far from Miss Jupp's,
and these young ladies were going there to spend the evening.

In all the glory of her large room, with its decorations of white and
gold, its mirrors, its glittering cabinets, its soft luxurious carpet,
its chairs of delicate green velvet, sat Mrs. Macpherson, waiting for
these young guests. In all her own glory of dress, it may be said, for
that was not less conspicuous than of yore, and that of to-day looked
just as if it were chosen to accord with the hangings--a green satin
robe with gold leaves for trimmings, and a cap that could not be seen
for sprays and spangles. In her sense of politeness--and she possessed
an old-fashioned stock of it--Mrs. Macpherson had dressed herself
betimes, not to leave the young ladies alone after they came. Thus,
when they arrived, under the convoy of Miss Emma Jupp, who left them
at the door, Mrs. Macpherson was ready to receive them.

It was the first time they had been there for many weeks; for the
professor had been abroad on a tour in connexion with some of the
ologies, as his wife expressed it, in which she had accompanied him.
The result of this was, that Mrs. Macpherson had no end of Parisian
novelties, in the shape of dress, to display to them in her chamber.

"I know what girls like," she said, in her hearty manner, "and that
is, to look at new bonnets and mantles, and try 'em on."

But Mary Anne Thornycroft--perhaps because she could indulge in such
articles at will--cared not a jot for these attractions, and said she
should go down to see the professor.

He had some rooms at the back of the house, where his collection of
scientific curiosities--to call things by a polite name--had been
stowed. And here the professor, when not out, spent his time. Mary
Anne quite loved the man, so simple-minded and yet great-minded at one
and the same time, and never failed to penetrate to his rooms when
occasion offered. Quickly wending her way through the passages, she
opened the door softly.

It was not very easy to distinguish clearly at first, what with the
crowd of things darkening the windows, and the mass of objects
generally. At a few yards' distance, slightly bending over a sort of
upright desk, as if writing something, stood a gentleman; but
certainly not the professor. His back was towards her; he had
evidently not heard her enter, and a faint flush of surprise dawned on
Mary Anne's face, for in that first moment she thought it was her
brother Cyril. It was the same youthful, supple, slender figure; the
same waving hair, of a dark auburn, clustering round the head above
the collar of the coat. Altogether, seen in this way, there was a
certain resemblance; and that was the first primary link in the chain
that attracted Mary Anne to him. The door, which she had left open,
closed with a slight bang, and the gentleman spoke, without lifting
his head.

"I have worked it out at last. You were right about its being less
than the other."

"Is Dr. Macpherson not here?"

He turned sharply at the words, a pencil in his hand, surprise on his
face. A good face; for its old gay careless look had departed for
ever, and the dark blue eyes--darker even than of yore--wore a serious
gravity that never left them, a gravity born of remorse. The face was
older than the figure, and not in the least like Cyril Thornycroft's;
it looked fully its seven-and-twenty years--nay, looked nearer thirty;
but all its expression was merged in surprise. No wonder; to see a
beautiful girl in blue silk, with blue ribbons in her fair hair,
standing there; when he had only expected the professor, in his old
threadbare coat and spectacles. It was Robert Hunter.

"I beg your pardon," he said, coming forward. "Can I do anything for
you?"

"I thought Dr. Macpherson was here. I came to see him."

Never losing her calm self-possession on any occasion, as so many
young ladies do on no occasion at all, Miss Thornycroft stepped up to
the side glass cases to examine the curiosities, talking as easily to
him as though she had known him all her life. Without being in the
least free, there was an openness of manner about her, an utter
absence of tricks and affectation, a straightforward independence,
rather remarkable in a young lady. For Robert Hunter it possessed a
singular charm.

Before the professor came in, who had forgotten himself down in his
cellar, where he had gone after a cherished specimen in the frog line;
before Mr. Hunter had pointed out to her a quarter of the new
acquisitions in the glass cases--animal, vegetable, and mineral--they
knew all about each other: that he was Susan Hunter's brother, and
that she was Miss Thornycroft of Coastdown. At mention of her name, a
brief vision connected with the past floated across Robert Hunter's
brain--of a certain summer evening when he was returning to Guild with
his poor young wife, and saw the back of a high open carriage bowling
away from his sister's gate, which he was told contained Mr. and Miss
Thornycroft. Never since that had he heard the name or thought of the
people.

"Do you know, when I came into the room just now, and you were
standing with your back to me, I nearly took you for one of my
brothers. At the back you are just like him."

Robert Hunter smiled slightly. "And not in the face?"

"Not at all--except, perhaps, a little in the forehead. Cyril has
hazel eyes and small features. The hair is exactly like his, the same
colour, and grows just as his does in front, leaving the forehead
square. If you were to hide your face, showing only the top of the
forehead and the hair, I should say you were Cyril."

The professor appeared, and they went into the more habitable part of
the house. Robert had not seen his sister since she was a little girl;
he had not seen Anna since they parted at Guild. It was altogether an
acceptable meeting; but he looked at Anna's face somewhat anxiously.

"Have you been working very much, Anna?" he took occasion to ask,
drawing her for a moment aside.

"I am always working very hard," she answered, with her sweet smile of
patient endurance. "There is a great deal to be done in schools, you
know; but I am well off at Miss Jupp's compared to what I was at the
other place. They are very kind to me."

"You have a look upon you