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                             LADY WILLIAM

                       [Illustration: colophon]




                             LADY WILLIAM

                                  BY
                             MRS. OLIPHANT

                                London
                           MACMILLAN AND CO.
                             AND NEW YORK
                                 1894

                         _All rights reserved_


           _First Edition (3 Vols. Crown 8vo) January 1894_
                       _Reprinted February 1894_
             _Second Edition (1 Vol. Crown 8vo) May 1894_




I


The village of Watcham is not a village in the ordinary sense of the
word, and yet it is a very pretty place, with a charming picturesque
aspect, and of which people say, ‘What a pretty village!’ when they come
upon its little landing-place on the riverside, or drive through its
old-fashioned green, where some of the surrounding houses look as if
they had come out of the seventeenth century, and some as if they had
come out of the picture-books of Mr. Randolph Caldecott. It is a village
of genteel little houses where a great many people live who have
pretensions, but are poor: and some who have no pretensions and yet are
poor all the same, and find the little, fresh, airy villa houses, with
their small rooms and little gardens, a wonderful relief from London,
even from the suburbs which are almost as rural as Watcham. Watcham,
however, has various advantages over Hampstead or Wimbledon. It is close
by the river, where a little quiet boating may be had without any fear
of plunging into the mob of excursionists from London on one side, who
make some portions of that river hideous, or the more elegant mob of
society on the other, who do not add to its charm. But I need not linger
on the attractions of this little place, with which the reader will, no
doubt, if he (or she) has patience enough, become well acquainted in
time.

The church in Watcham is a pretty church of very old foundation, low in
stature and small in size, its porch covered with climbing roses, its
modest little spire rising out of a mantle of ivy. Inside I have always
felt that there was a faint breath of generations past, perhaps not so
desirable as the traces of them left on the walls--which mingled with
the breath of the congregation, and the whiff of incense, which was now
and then added to the composite atmosphere. For the Rector was ‘High,’
and, though he never laid himself open to troublesome proceedings, was
watched with great attention by a little band of parishioners very
anxious to be aggrieved, who kept an eye upon all he did, in the hope of
some day catching him at an unguarded moment, in the act of lighting a
candle or donning a vestment which exceeded the rubric. But Mr. Plowden
was quite aware of this watch, and delighted in keeping his critics up
to the highest mark of vigilance without ever giving them the occasion
they desired. The Rectory was an old red-brick house showing rather high
and narrow above its garden wall, and the Plowden family consisted,
besides the Rector, of his wife, a son, and two daughters, to whose
credit the floral decorations, for which the church was famous, were
laid, undeservedly, by the strangers and visitors who frequented the
place--though this was always indignantly contradicted by the
inhabitants, to whom it was well known that Miss Grey was the real
artist who made the church so beautiful, and seemed to invent flowers
when none were to be had by other persons, for the adornment of the
little sanctuary. There were a few houses dotted about in their gardens
in the neighbourhood of the church which contained the aristocracy of
the place. These were generally very small, but, on the other hand, they
were very refined, and contained old china and dainty pieces of old
furniture such as might have made a dozen connoisseurs happy. They,
however, were inhabited chiefly by ladies, though there was an old
soldier and an old clergyman among them who stood out very strongly on
the feminine background. The old clergyman, indeed, was no better than
an old lady himself, and so considered in the place, which sent him on
errands, and set but little store by his opinion; but the General! the
General was very different. He had seen a great deal of service; and on
occasions when he went at strictly-regulated intervals to a levée or
other great function, with all his medals upon his ancient bosom, he was
a sight to see. It was believed generally in the village that he had won
several victories with his own right hand, and the sword which hung in
his room was believed to have been bathed in blood on many terrible
occasions; but, as was to be expected, the old soldier bore no terrible
aspect, but was very amiable and gentle to his neighbours. The
Archdeacon, of whom nobody stood in any awe, was on occasion ten times
more severe.

It will be perceived that society in Watcham was