Charlotte Mary Yonge.

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THE UNIVERSITY

OF ILLINOIS

LIBRARY

vexdy

V.l



im



BOOKS

y BY THE

AtJTHOR OF "THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE."



I. THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE. 2 vols. 12mo.. paper cov-
er, $1 ; cloth, $1 50.

IT. DYNEVOR TERRACE ; or, the Clue of Life. 2 vol.^,
12mo., paper, .$1 ; cloth, ^1 50.

TIL HEARTSEASE; or, the Brother'.^ Wife. 2 vols. 12mo.,
l^aper cover, .$1 ; cloth, ^1 50.

IT. KENNETH ; or, the Rear Guard of the Grand Army. 1

vol. 12nio., paper, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.

Y. THE CASTLE BUILDERS. 1 vol. 12mo., paper, 50 cents;
cloth, 75 cents.

YT. THE TWO GUARDIANS ; or, Home in this World. 1

vol. 12mo., paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.

YII. BEECHCROFT. 1 vol. 12mo., paper cover, 50 cents ; cloth,

75 cents.

YIII. RICHARD THE FEARLESS. 1 vol. 12mo., 62 cents.
IX. THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD. 1 vol. 16mo., 75 cents.



Extract from a review of "The Heir of Redelyffe," and ''Heartsease,"
ia the North American Review for April.

" The first of her writings vaiicii jiade a sensation here was the
' Heir,' and what a sensation it was ! Referring to the remains of the

TEAR- washed COVERS OF THE COPY AFORESAID, WE FIND IT BELONGED TO IHE
' EIGnni THOUSAND.' IIOW MANY THOUSANDS HAVE BEEN ISSUED SIXCrt BY
THE PUBLISHERS TO StTPLY THE DEMAND FOR NEW, AND THE PLAC^i OI"
DROWNED, DISSOLVED, OR SWEPT AWAY OLD COPIES, WE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO

CONJECl'URE. ISTOT INDIVIDUALS MERELY, BUT HOUSEHOLDS CONSISTING IN

GREAT PART OF ' TENDER-HEARTED YOUNG DAMSELS WERE PLUNGED INTO

MOURNING. WiTif A TOLERABLE ACQUAINTANCE WITH FICTITIOUS HEROES (noT
TO SFICAK OF REAL ONEs), FROM SiR CllARLES GraNDISON DOWN TO THE NUH-

PERY IDOL Carlton, we have little hesitation in pronouncing Sir Guy

MORVILLE, OF ReDCLYIFE, BaRONET, THE MOST ADMIRABLE ONE WE EVER MET
WITH, IN STORY OR OUT. ThE GLORIOUS, JOYOUS BOY, THE BR LLfANT, ARL'ENT
CHILD OF GENIUS AND OF FORTUNE, CROWNED WITH THE BEAUTY OF HIS EARLY
HOLINESS, AND OVERSHADOWED WITH THE DARKNESS OF HIS HEREDITARY

GLOOM, AND THE SOFT AND TOUCHING SADNESS OF HIS EARLY DEATH WHAT A

CAUTION IS THERE ! "NYhaT A VISION ! "



Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive

in 2010 witin funding from

University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign



http://www.archive.org/details/dynevorterraceor01yong



DYNEYOR TERRACE:



OB,



C|i €Im of fife.



BY THE

AUTHOR OF ' THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE.'



Who wisdom's sacred prize -would win.
Must with the fear of God begin *
Immortal praise and heavenly skill
Have they who know and do His will.

Xew Version.



IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.



XEW Y^OEK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

846 & 843 BROADWAY.

M.DCCC.LVII,



^



S^3



CONTENTS OF VOL. I.



5p



CHAP

I. CHARLOTTE ....

II. AN OLD SCHOOLMISTRESS

III. LOUIS LE DEBONNAIRE

IV. THISTLE-DOWN

T. THE TWO MINISTERS
TI. FAREWELLS ....
VII. GOSSAMER ....

VIII. A TRUANT DISPOSITION
IX. THEi FAMILY COMPACT
X. THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR
XI. A HALTING PROPOSAL
XII. CHILDE ROLAND . . . ,

XIII. FR0ST7, BUT KINDLY
XIV. NEW ^INHABITANTS . . ,

XV. MOTiEY THE ONLY WEAR
XVI. THEii'RUIT OF THE CHRISTMAS-TREK
XVII. THE RIVALS ....

XVIII. REST: FOR THE WEARY .
XIX. MOONSHINE ....

XX. THE FANTASTIC VISCOUNT
XXI. THE HERO OF THE BARRICADES
XXII. BURGOMASTERS AND GREAT ONE-EYERS



PAGB

1

20

36

54

67

82

96

114

129

186

153

175

184

200

223

235

248

261

275

292

803



1 008635



DTNEYOR TERRACE.



CHAPTEE I.



CHAPvLOTTE.



Farewell rewards and fairies,
Good housewives now may say,
For now foul sluts in dairies
May fare as well as they.

Bp. Coebet,

An ancient leafless stump of a horse-chesnut stood in the
middle of a dusty field, bordered on tke south side by a row
of houses of some pretension.

Against this stump, a pretty delicate fair girl of seven-
teen, whose short lilac sleeves revealed slender white arms,
and her tight, plain cap tresses of flaxen hair that many a
beauty might have envied, was banging a cocoa-nut mat,
chanting by way of accompaniment in a sort of cadence —

' I have found out a gift for my fair,
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed ;
But let me the plunder forbear,
She will say '

• Hollo, I'll give you a shilling for 'em ! ' was the unlooked-
for conclusion, causing her to start aside with a slight
Bcream, as there stood beside her a stout, black-eyed, round-
faced lad, his ruddy cheeks and loutish air showing more
rusticity than agreed with his keen, saucy expression, and
mechanic's dress.



2 DYNEVOR TERRACE.

' So that's what you call beating a mat,' said he, catch-
ing it from her hands, and mimicking the tender clasp of her
little fingers. ' D'je think it's alive, that you use it so gin-
gerly ? Look here ! Give it him well ! ' as he made it
resound against the tree, and emit a whirlwind of dust.
' Lay it into him with some jolly good song fit to fetch a
stroke home with ! Why, I heard my young Lord say, when
Shakspeare was a butcher, he used to make speeches at the
calve«, as if they was for a sacrifice, or ever he could lift a
knife to 'em.'

' Shakspeare ! He as wrote Romeo and Juliet, and all
that ! He a butcher ! AVhy, he was a poet ! ' cried the girl,
indignantly.

' If you know better than Lord Fitzjocelyn, you may ! '
said the boy.

' I couldn't have thought it ! ' sighed the maiden.

' It's the best of it ! ' cried the lad, eagerly. ' Why, Char-
lotte, don't ye see, he rose hisself. Anybody may rise his-
self as has a mind to it ! '

' Yes, I've read that in books,' said Charlotte. ' You
can, men can, Tom, if you would but educate yourself like
Edmund in the Old English Bai^on. But then, you know
whose son you are. There can't be no catastrophe — '

' I don't want none,' said Tom. ' We are all equal by
birth, so the orator proves without a doubt, and we'll show
it one of these days. A rare lady I'll make of you yet,
Charlotte Arnold.'

' hush, Tom, I can never be a lady — and I can't stand
dawdling here — nor you neither. 'Tisn't right to want to
be out of our station ; though I do wish I lived in an old
castle, where the maidens worked tapestry, and heard min-
strels, and never had no stairs to scour. Come, give me my
mats, and thank you kindly ! '

' I'll take 'em in,' said Tom, shouldering them. ' 'Tis
breakfast-hour, so I thought I'd just run up and ax you
when my young Lord goes up to Oxford.'

' He is gone,' said Charlotte ; ' he was here yesterday to
take leave of missus. Mr. James goes later — '

' Gone ! ' cried Tom. ' If he didn't say he'd come and
see me at Mr. Smith's ! '

' Did you want to speak to him ? '

* I wanted to see him particular. There's a thing lays



CHAHLOTTE. 3

heavy on my mind. You see that place down in Ferny dell
— there's a steep bank down to the water. Well, my young
Lord was very keen about building a kind of steps there in
the summer, and he and I settled the stones, and I was to
cement 'em. By comes Mr. Frost, and finds fault, what I
thought he'd no call to ; so I flings down my trowel, and
wouldn't go on for he ! I was so mortal angry, I would not
go back to the work ; and I believe my Lord forgot it — and
then he went back to college ; and Framptou and G-ervas,
they put on me ; and you know how 'twas I come away from
Ormersfield. I was not going to say a word to one of that
lot ! but if I could see Lord Fitzjocelyn, I'd tell him they
stones arn't fixed ; and if the frost gets into 'em, there'll be
a pretty go next time there's a tolerablish weight ! But
there — it is his own look-out ! If he never thought it worth
his while to keep his promise, and come and see me — '

'0 Tom ! that isn't right ! He only forgot — I hear
Mrs. Beckett telling him he'd forget his own head if it
wasn't fixed on, and Mr. James is always at him.'

' Forget ! Aye, there's nothing gentlefolks forget like
poor folks. But I've done with he ! Let him look out — I
kept my promises to him long enough ; but if he don't keep
his'n— '

' For shame, for shame, Tom ! You don't mean it ! '
cried Charlotte. ' But, oh ! ' with a different tone, ' give me
the mat ! There's the old Lord and Mr. Poynings riding
down the terrace ! '

' I ain't ashamed of nothing ! ' said the lad, proudly ; and
as Charlotte snatched away the mats, and vanished like a
frightened hare, he stalked along like a village Hampden,
muttering, ' The old tyrant shall see whether I'm to be
trampled on ! ' and with both hands in his pockets, he gazed
straight up into the face of the grave elderly gentleman, who
never even perceived him. He could merely bandy glances
with Poynings, the groom, and he was so far from indifferent
that he significantly lifted up the end of his whip. Nothing
could more have gratified Tom, who retorted with a grimace
and murmur, ' Don't you wish you may catch me 'i You
jealous syc — what is the word, sick of uncles or aunts, was
it, that the orator called 'em ? He'd say I'd a good miss
of being one of that sort, and that my young Lord there
opened my eyes in time. No better than the rest of 'em — '



4: DTNEVOR TERRACE.

And the clock striking eight, he quickened his pace to
return to his work. He had for the two or three previous
years been nominally under the gardener at Ormersfield, but
really a sort of follower and favorite to the young heir, Lord
Fitzjocelyn — a position which had brought on him dislike
from the superior servants, who were not propitiated by his
independent and insubordinate temper. Faults on every
side had led to his dismissal ; but Lord Fitzjocelyn had
placed him at an ironmonger's shop in the town of North-
wold, where he had been just long enough to become acces-
sible to the various temptations of a lad in such a situation.

Charlotte sped hastily round the end of the block of
buildings, hurried down the little back garden, and flew
breathlessly into her own kitchen, as a haven of refuge ; but
she found a tall, stiff, starched, elderly woman standing just
within the door, and heard her last words.

' Well ! as I said, 'tis no concern of mine ; only I thought
it the part of a friend to give you a warning, when I seen it
with my own eyes !-^Ah ! here she is ! ' as Charlotte dropped
into a chair. ' Yes, yes, Miss, you need not think to deceive
me ; I saw you from Miss Mercy's window — '

' Saw what ? ' f\iiatly exclaimed Charlotte.

' You know well enough,' was the return. ' You may
think to blind Mrs. Becket here, but I know what over good-
nature to young girls comes to. Pretty use to make of your
fine scholarship, to be encouraging followers and sweethearts,
at that time in the morning too ! '

' Speak up, Charlotte,' said the other occupant of the room,
a pleasant little brisk woman, with soft brown eyes, a clear
pale skin, and a face smooth, in spite of nearly sixty years;
' speak up, and tell Mrs. Martha the truth, that you never
encouraged no one.'

The girl's face was all one flame ; but she rose up, and
clasping her hands together, exclaimed — ' Me encourage ! I
never thought of what Mrs. Martha says ! I don't know
what it is all about ! '

' Here, Jane Beckett,' cried Mrs. Martha ; ^ d'ye see what
'tis to vindicate her ! AVill you take her word against mine,
that she's been gossiping this half-hour with that young
rogue as was turned off at Ormersfield ? '

■ Tom Madison ! ' cried the girl, in utter amaze. ' Oh !
Mrs. Martha ! '



CHARLOTTE. 5

' Well ! I can't stop ! ' said Martha. ' I must get Miss
FaithfuU's breakfast ! but if you was under me, Miss Char-
lotte, I can tell you it would be better for you I You'll sup
sorrow yet, and you'll both recollect my advice, both of you.'

Wherewith the Cassandra departed, and Charlotte throw-
ing her apron over her face, began to cry and sob piteously.

' My dear ! what is it now ? ' exclaimed her kind compan-
ion, pulling down her apron, and trying to draw down first
one, then the other of the arms which persisted in veiling
the crimson face. ' Surely you don't think missus or I
would mistrust you, or think you'd take up with the likes of
him!'

' How could she be so cruel — so spiteful,' sobbed Char-
lotte, ' when he only came to ask one question, and did a
good turn for me with the mats. I never thought of such a
thing. Sweetheart, indeed ! So cruel of her.'

' Bless me ! ' said Jane, ' girls used to think it only civility
to say they had a sweetheart ! '

' Don't, Mrs. Beckett ! I hate the word ! I don't want
no such thiDg ! I won't never speak to Tom Madison again,
if such constructions is to be put on it ! '

' Well, after all, Charlotte dear, that will be the safest
way. You are J^oung yet, and best not to think of settling,
special if you aren't sure of one that is steady and religious ;
and you'd better keep yourself up, and not get a name for
gossiping — though there's no harm done yet, so don't make
such a work. Bless me, if I don' hear his lordship's voice !
He ain't never come so early ! '

' Yes, he is,' said Charlotte, recovering from her sobs ;
* he rode up as I came in.'

' Well, to be sure, he is come to breakfast ! I hope
nothin's amis with my young Lord ! I must run up with a
cup and plate ; and you, make the place tidy, in case Mr.
Poynings comes in. You'd better run into the scullery and
wash your face ; 'tis all tears ! You're a terrible one to cry,
Charlotte ! ' with a kind, cheering smile and caress.

Mrs. Beckett bustled ofi", leaving Charlotte to restore
herself to the little handy piece of household mechanism
which kind, patient, motherly training had rendered her.

Charlotte Arnold had been fairly educated at a village
school, and tenderly brought up at home till left an orphan,
when she had been taken into her present place. She had



6 DTNEVOR TERRACE.

mucli native refinement and imagination, which, half culti-
vated, produces a curious mixture of romance and simplicity.
Her insatiable taste for reading was meritorious in the eyes
of Mrs. Beckett, who, unlearned herself, thought any book
better than ' gadding about,' and, after hearing her daily
portion of the Bible, listened to the most adventurous
romances, with a sense of pleasure and duty in keeping the
girl to her book. She loved the little fragile orphan, taught
her, and had patience with her, and trusted the true high
sound principle which she recognised in Charlotte, amid
much that she could not fathom, and set down alternately to
the score of scholarship and youth.

Taste, modesty, and timidity were guards to Charlotte.
A broad stare was terror to her, and she had many a fictitious
horror, as well as better-founded ones. Truly she said, she
hated the broad words Martha had used. One who craved a
true knight to be twitted with a sweetheart ! Martha and
Tom Madison were almost equally distasteful, as connected
with such a reproach ; and the little maiden drew into herself,
promenaded her fancy in castles and tournaments, kept
under Jane's wing, and was upheld by her as a sensible,
prudent girl.



CHAPTEE n.

AN OLD SCHOOLMISTRESS.

I praise thee, matron, and thy due
Is praise, heroic praise and true ;
With admiration I behold
Thy gladness unsubdued and bold.
Thy looks and gestures all present
The picture of a life well spent ;
• Our human nature throws away

Its second twilight and looks gay.

WOEDSVOETH.

Unconscious of Charlotte's flight and Tom's affront, the Earl
of Ormersfield rode along Djnevor Terrace — a row of houses
with handsome cemented fronts, tragic and comic masks
alternating over the downstairs windows, and the centre of
the block adorned with a pediment and colonade ; but there
was an air as if something ailed the place : the gardens were
weedy, the glass doors hazy, the cement stained and scarred,
and many of the windows closed and dark, like eyes wanting
speculation, or with merely the dreary words ' To be let '
enlivening their blank gloom. At the house where Charlotte
had vanished, he drew his rein, and opened the gate — not one
of the rusty ones — he entered the garden, where all was trim
and fresh, the shadow of the house lying across the sward,
and preserving the hoar-frost, which, in the sunshine, was
melting into diamond drops on the lingering China roses.

Without ring or knock, he passed into a narrow, carpetless
vestibule, unadorned except by a beautiful blue Wedgcwood
vase, and laying down hat and whip, mounted the bare stair-
case, long since divested of all paint or polish. Avoiding the
door of the principal room, he opened another at the side, and
stood in a flood of sunshine, pouring in from the window, which



8 DTNETOE TEEEACE.

looked over all the roofs of the^ town, to the coppices and
moorlands of Ormersfield. On the bright fire sung a kettle,
a white cat purred on the hearth, a canary twittered merrily
in the window, and the light smiled on a languishing Dresden
shepherdess and her lover on the mantelpiece, and danced on
the ceiling, reflected from a beautifully chased silver cream-
jug — an inconsistent companion for the homely black teapot
and willow-patterned plates, though the two cups of rare
Indian porcelain were not unworthy of it. The furniture
was the same mixture of the ordinary and the choice, either
worn and shabby, or such as would suit a virtuoso, but the
whole arranged with taste and care that made the effect
bright, pleasant, and comfortable. Lord Ormersfield stood
on the hearth-rug waiting. His face was that of one who
had learnt to wait, more considerate than acute, and bearing
the stamp both of toil and suffering, as if grief had taken
away all mobility of expression, and left a stem, thoughtful
steadfastness.

Presently a lady entered the room. Her hair was white
as snow, and she could not have seen less than seventy-seven
years ; but beauty was not gone from her features — smiles
were still on her lips, brightness in her clear hazel eyes, buoy-
ancy in her tread, and alertness and dignity in her tall, slen-
der, unbent figure. There was nothing so remarkable about
her as the elasticity as well as sweetness of her whole look
and bearing, as if, while she had something to love, nothing
could be capable of crushing her.

^ You here ! ' she exclaimed, holding out her hand to her
guest. ' You are come to breakfast.'

'Thank you; I wished to see you without interrupting
your day's work. Have you many scholars at present ? '

* Only seven, and three go into school at Easter. Jem
and Clara wish me to undertake no more, but I should sorely
miss the little fellows. I wish they may do me as much
credit as Sydney Calcott. He wrote himself to tell me of his
success.'

' I am glad to hear it. He is a very promising young
man.'

' I tell him I shall come to honour, as the old dame who
taught him to spell. My scholars may make a Dr. Busby of
me in history.'



AN OLD SCHOOLMISTRESS. 9

* I am afraid your preferment will depend chiefly on James
and young Calcott.'

' Nay, Louis tells me that he is going to read wonderfully
hard ; and if he chooses, he can do more than even Sydney
Calcott.'

'If!' said the Earl.

Jane here entered with another cup and plate, and Lord
Ormersfield sat down to the breakfast-table. After some
minutes' pause he said, ' Have you heard from Peru ? '

' Not by this mail. Have you ? '

' Yes, I have. Mary is coming home.'

' Mary ! ' she cried, almost springing up — ' Mary Ponson-
by ? This is good news — unless,' as she watched his grave
face, ' it is her health that brings her. '

' It is. She has consulted the surgeon of the Libra, a
very able man, who tells her that there is absolute need of
good advice and a colder climate ; and Ponsonby has con-
sented to let her and her daughter come home in the Ziihra.
I expect them in February.'

' My poor 3Iary ! But she will get better away from him.
I trust he is not coming ! '

' Not he,' said Lord Ormersfield.

' Dear, dear Mary ! I had scarcely dared to hope to see
her again,' cried the old lady, with tears in her eyes. ' I hope
she will be allowed to be with us, not kept in London with
his sister. London does her no good.'

' The very purport of my visit,' said Lord Ormersfield,
* was to ask whether you could do me the favour to set aside
your scholars, and enable me to receive Mrs. Ponsonby at
home.'

' Thank you — oh, thank you. There is nothing I should
like better, but I must consider — '

* Clara will find a companion in the younger Mary in the
holidays ; and if James would make Fitzjocelyn his charge,
it would complete the obligation. It would be by far the
best arrangement for Mary's comfort, and it would be the
greatest satisfaction to me to see her with you at Ormers-
field.'

* I believe it would indeed,' said the old lady, more
touched than the outward manner of the Earl seemed to war-
rant. ' I would — you know I would do my very best that
you and Mary should be comfortable together ' — and her

YOL. I.— 1*



10 DYNEYOR TEKRACE.

voice trembled — ' but you see I cannot promise all at once.
I must see about tbese little boys. I must talk to Jem. In
short, you must not be disappointed ' — and she put her
hands before her face, trying to laugh, but almost overcome.

' Nay, I did not mean to press you,' said Lord Ormers-
field, gently ; ' but I thought, since James has had the fel-
lowship and Clara has been at school, that you wished to give
up your pupils.'

' So I do,' said the lady, but still not yielding absolutely.

' For the rest, I am very anxious that James should ac-
cept Fitzjocelyn as his pupil. I have always considered their
friendship as the best hope ; and other plans have had so lit-
tle success, that — '

' I'm not going to hear Louis abused,' she exclaimed,
gaily.

' Yes,' said Lord Ormersfield, with a look nearly ap-
proaching a smile, ' you are the last person I ought to invite,
if I wish to keep your nephew unspoiled.'

' I wish there were any one else to spoil him ! '

' For his sake, then, come and make Ormersfield cheer-
ful. It will be far better for him.'

* And for j^ou, to see more of Jem,' she added. ' If he
were yours, what would you say to such hours ? '

The last words were aimed at a young man who came
briskly into the room, and as he kissed her, and shook hands
with the Earl, answered in a quick, bright tone, ' Shocking,
aye. All owing to sitting up till one ! '

' Reading ? ' said the Earl.

' Reading,' he answered, with a sort of laughing satisfac-
tion in dashing aside the approval expressed in the query,
' but not quite as you suppose. See here,' as he held up ma-
liciously a railway novel.

' I am afraid I know where it came from^' said Lord Or-
mersfield.

' Exactly so,' said James, ' It was Fitzjocelyn's deser-
tion of it that excited my curiosity.'

' Indeed. I should have thought his desertions far too
common to excite any curiosity.

' By no means. He always has a reason.'

' A plausible one.'

' More than plausible,' cried James, excitement sparkling
in his vivid black eyes. ' 1+' happens that this is the very



AX OLD SCHOOLMISTRESS. 11

book that you would most rejoice to see distasteful to him —
low morality, false principles, morbid excitement, not a line
that ought to please a healthy mind.' —
' Yet it has interest enough for you.'

* I am not Fitzjocelyn.'

' You know how to plead for him.'

* I speak simple truth,' bluntly answered James, running
his hand through his black hair, to the ruin of the morning
smoothness, so that it, as well as the whole of his quick, dark
countenance seemed to have undergone a change from sunny
south to stormy north in the few moments since his first ap-
pearance.

After a short silence. Lord Ormersfield turned to him,
saying, ' I have been begging a favour of my aunt, and I have
another to ask of you,' and repeating his explanation, begged
him to undertake the tutorship of his son.

' I shall not be at liberty at Easter,' said James ; ' I have
all but undertaken some men at Oxford.'

* Oh, my dear Jem ! ' exclaimed the old lady, ' is that
settled beyond alteration ? '

' I'm not going to throw them over.'

' Then I shall hope for you at Midsummer,' said the
Earl.

' We' shall see how things stand,' he returned, ungra-
ciously.

' I shall write to you,' said Lord Ormersfield, still un-
daunted, and soon after taking his leave.

' Cool ! ' cried James, as soon as he was gone. ' To ex-
pect you to give up your school at his beck, to come and keep
house for him as long as it may suit him ! '

' Nay, Jem, he knew how few boys I have, and that I
intended to give them up. You don't mean to refuse Louis ? '
she said, imploringly.

' I shall certaiuly not take him at Easter. It would be
a mere farce intended to compensate to us for giving up the



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