Aldyth's Inheritance by Eglanton Thorne

THE house in which Aldyth Lorraine lived with her aunt was scarcely ten minutes' walk from Mrs. Bland's. The High Street took a turn just above the Blands' door, and winding round to the left, ended at an open space where three roads met. To the left diverged the Tolleshunt and Longbridge roads. The road, which was almost a continuation of the High Street, was known as the London Road, and was the more fashionable part of Woodham. Here were the newest and smartest villas that the little town could boast; but here and there amongst them stood a house with a history, a history which went back through many generations, so that one might imagine the old dwelling to look with contempt on its modern, upstart neighbours.

Miss Lorraine's house was one of the old ones, and was known as Myrtle Cottage. It was not very convenient, but it was picturesque, having a thatched roof, and walls tapestried with ivy. It stood in a pretty garden, sheltered by a thick hawthorn hedge, and, as it was the last of the houses, and the road dipped sharply on the other side, it had a fine view of a wide expanse of flat country, green meadows and hedgerows, cornfields and copses, melting away into the exquisite blue of distance.

Leaving the Blands, Aldyth walked quickly to the cottage, but her haste did not prevent her pausing for a moment with her hand on the gate to gaze at the far-reaching prospect bathed in the mellow light of the lovely September afternoon. There was something to Aldyth very heart-satisfying in that broad, fair landscape, and she never wearied of looking at it.

But as she gazed now, she became aware that a young man was seated on the low bank at the other side of the road. For a moment she imagined that he was merely sitting there to enjoy the prospect, but another glance showed her that he was very pale, and there was blood on the handkerchief he was pressing to his temple; his cap lay in the dust, and leaning against the hedge, a few paces down the bill, was a bicycle, which seemed to have come to grief. Instantly Aldyth crossed the road, saying, kindly-

"I fear you have had an accident. Are you much hurt?"

"Oh, it is nothing, thank you," said the stranger, in refined, courteous tones; "I have had an awkward fall and cut my forehead, but the pain is nothing, if only it would stop bleeding."

"Won't you come in and let my aunt see what she can do for you? " said Aldyth. "This is her house, and she is rather clever at dressing wounds."

"You are very kind," said the young man, meeting Aldyth's glance with a pair of clear blue eyes that had a very penetrative gaze; "but I think there is no need to trouble your aunt; I shall be all right in a few minutes."

But a fresh spurt of blood from the wound made him press the handkerchief closer to his face, and the colour which had returned to it died away.

"Indeed, you had better come in," said Aldyth, earnestly. "You know you really cannot go home like that. People would stare at you so."

The last words had their effect. The young man's face broke into a merry smile.

"They would indeed," he said. "I had not thought of that. And the boys! What entertainment for them! Thank you, I will avail myself of your kindness."

"That is right," said Aldyth, making a movement as though she would pick up his cap, but he saw her intention and was before her, though stooping brought a return of the giddiness which he had at first experienced. She had to help him bring his bicycle within the garden, then she hurried on to the house, the stranger following with a slow and somewhat uncertain step.

Happily Miss Lorraine was at home. She was seated at her desk in the little drawing room which opened at one side of the front door. A great talker, Miss Lorraine was not less great as a correspondent. When not paying calls or entertaining visitors, she was generally to be found writing letters.

"Aunt Lucy, here is a gentleman I met at the gate. He has had an accident; he fell from his bicycle. Do come and see what you can do for him."

"My dear! An accident? " cried Miss Lorraine, springing up with alacrity.

She came bustling into the hall, a comely little woman, whose age it would have been difficult to determine, for her black hair was scarce touched with grey, her eyes bright; she moved and spoke briskly, and was always dressed in a dainty, becoming style. Of great energy, she loved to be of use in any way, and, as Aldyth knew well, was delighted by this unexpected call to render surgical aid.

Aldyth had not given a thought to the individuality of the stranger, but Miss Lorraine recognized the gentleman who had been pointed out to her that morning as the new master at the Woodham Grammar School. She welcomed him heartily, took him in hand at once in her quick, energetic fashion, and had soon sponged the wound and dressed it, not unskilfully, with lint and plaster.

"Now, Mr. Glynne, you must stay and take tea with me and Aldyth. Yes, indeed you must rest after such a shock, and the quieter you keep, the sooner the wound will heal."

"You are very kind," said John Glynne, feeling the attraction of the bright little home in which he found himself, and inclined to accept the invitation; "but you have the advantage of me, since you know my name, whilst I have yet to learn to whom I am indebted for such kind services."