Aldyth's Inheritance by Eglanton Thorne

MISS LORRAINE succeeded in creating an interest in the literature lectures, and carried out her project with little difficulty, though not without encountering opposition. There were various individuals who, like Guy Lorraine, could not see what good the lectures were to do. Some of the elders declared that there were excitements enough for the young people as it was. If they wanted to improve their minds, why could they not read quietly at home instead of gadding out to lectures at the Town Hall? And the mention of Shakespeare in connection with the lectures alarmed these good people. Study Shakespeare, indeed! What could that foster but a love of play-acting and theatre-going?

Happily Miss Lorraine was not wanting in tact. She persuaded the friends who had formed themselves into a committee that Shakespeare must stand aside for the present. They must not begin by riding rough-shod over people's prejudices. No one could object to a course of lectures on Wordsworth and the poets of the Lake School. Let them begin with Wordsworth, and trust that in time the minds of certain persons at Woodham would become enlightened with respect to the value of Shakespeare as a teacher of truth.

Her advice was followed, and by the beginning of October, every available wall and hoarding about Woodham bore posters announcing the course of lectures on literature to be given at the Town Hall, on Thursday evenings, by John Glynne, B. A., of Trinity College, Cambridge. The novelty of the idea caused considerable excitement in the little town. Every one talked about the lectures, and the tickets were sold with a rapidity that surpassed the most sanguine hopes of the projectors of the scheme.

The first lecture proved a grand success. The Town Hall was full. Every person of importance at Woodham seemed to be there. Conspicuous in the front rank of seats, reserved for the committee, sat Miss Lorraine, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her whole face radiating satisfaction, as, with head turned towards the door, she watched the people pressing in, and welcomed her friends with nods and smiles.

Not far from her sat Aldyth, between Kitty and Hilda Bland. Aldyth's satisfaction was more quietly evinced; but her face was bright with subdued pleasure. She rather shrank from the eager whispers in which Kitty, whose head was turning in all directions, made her observations on every one who appeared.

To the no small astonishment of his cousin, Guy Lorraine was present, seated at the other side of Hilda, on whom he was bestowing a good deal of attention. Miss Lorraine had given her little musical party a fortnight earlier, and Guy had made Mr. Glynne's acquaintance. But the new tutor did not seem to have made a more favourable impression on him on that occasion than at first sight. Guy continued to find much to ridicule in him. Perhaps the interest which Aldyth and her friends manifested in Mr. Glynne, and their enthusiasm about the lectures, kindled in Guy some unconscious jealousy.

The lecturer had stepped on to the low platform; he had placed his manuscript on the reading desk, and was about to begin his lecture, when the arrival of a late-comer created such a stir in the audience as obliged him to wait for a few moments. A young lady, dressed in the most extreme style of fashionable attire, came sweeping down the room. She would have been pretty but for the elaborate "get up" by which she endeavoured to attract attention to herself. The mass of light, frizzy hair which shaded her eyes completely concealed any intellectual attraction her countenance might possess, and the pearl powder lavishly applied to it reduced her complexion to an unnatural deadness of hue, and rendered invisible the quick changes of colour, the subtle play of expression on which the charm of a woman's face largely depends.

But however others might criticize her, Miss Clara Dawtrey seemed fully satisfied with the result of the pains devoted to her toilet. It gave her pleasure to feel that all eyes were fixed on her as she passed down the room, pushing her way to the front, though it was obvious that there were no vacant seats in that direction. When at last she halted, with a dramatic air of dismay, within a few paces of the lecturer, a gentleman rose to give her his chair, and after a faint protest, she dropped languidly into it. The lecturer, who had been somewhat anxiously watching the movements of the young lady, cleared his brow and began to address the audience.

"Well," whispered Kitty, in Aldyth's ear, "I do hope Clara Dawtrey is satisfied with the sensation she has created. The idea of her coming to literature lectures!"

But Aldyth's eyes were on Mr. Glynne, and she was too anxious to lose no word to pay much heed to Kitty.

John Glynne was a good speaker. He had a full, deep, musical voice. He began his lecture in a calm, quiet manner, which was nevertheless impressive. But as he went on, he soon began to display the fire and energy of one who was keenly interested in the subject with which he had to deal. He was a young man, and might be expected to display some timidity in addressing a strange audience; but his manner was singularly fearless and unaffected. He appeared too much in earnest to be troubled with self-consciousness.

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, no matter what the subject, and that one lecture was, to Aldyth Lorraine at least, a revelation of the man. It showed her that John Glynne was a religious man-religious in the highest and deepest meaning of the term, a large-hearted man, to whom all life was dear, one who could enjoy much, but one ever actuated by a strong, inflexible sense of duty.

The first lecture was introductory, dealing with the general character of the poetry of the age preceding the era of Wordsworth and Coleridge. There were a few earnest words concerning poetry, which stirred Aldyth's heart with delight.