Aldyth's Inheritance by Eglanton Thorne

ALDYTH and Hilda were very busy during the next few days. They were writing their essays on the "Characteristics of Eighteenth Century Poetry," and whenever they met, they discussed the subject, and manifested considerable excitement as to the result of their work. Hilda, indeed, was so absorbed in this new interest that Kitty laughingly declared that she was lost to the nineteenth century, and would have been oblivious of every duty she owed to her contemporaries if she had not looked after her.

"It is well I am a prosaic mortal," Kitty would say as she arranged flowers, watered the plants in the conservatory, and attended to the various little details on which the beauty and comfort of a home depend; "not a room in the house would be fit to be seen if they were left to Hilda."

And Hilda would smile dreamily, and, with an untroubled conscience, devote all her time to reading and study. Kitty liked active duties, she had no intellectual tastes; why should Hilda interfere to prevent her performing as many such duties as possible?

Aldyth had no sister to relieve her of unwelcome tasks, and Miss Lorraine, who was so much engaged outside her home, expected her niece to assist her in domestic matters. Aldyth did not let her interest in the literature lectures lead her to slight these. Each duty was conscientiously discharged, but, by rising early and making the most of every opportunity, she managed to secure time for reading and writing.

Mr. Glynne's second lecture, which described the influence of the French Revolution on English literature, was even more interesting than the former one had been. Aldyth's paper was returned to her with a few words of commendation written on it. Hilda's, too, was marked "good," but it was criticized as being rather too diffuse, and in some respects not to the point. Hilda, who had spent hours over her essay, and flattered herself that it was well done, was disappointed to find it unequal to Aldyth's.

"Aldyth's is the best essay," said Kitty to Miss Lorraine, as they met near the door of the hall. She spoke in loud, clear tones, as she generally did, and her words were heard by Clara Dawtrey, to whom Miss Lorraine had just been speaking.

"That Miss Aldyth Lorraine should stand first is only what one would expect," Clara remarked with a simper.

Kitty gave her rather a haughty look of inquiry. But Miss Dawtrey had turned to greet an acquaintance, and Kitty's look was apparently lost on her.

"Now what did she mean by that, I wonder? " said Kitty, lowering her voice.

"I am sure I cannot say," replied Miss Lorraine, rather belying her words the next moment, however, by remarking, "I hope there will be no nonsense of that kind. There never was such a place for gossip as Woodham."

John Glynne no longer felt himself a stranger to people who gathered to hear him lecture. The society of a small country town is not usually reluctant to show hospitality to a young man of good family and high personal credentials, and Woodham was no exception to this rule.

The young tutor sometimes was embarrassed by the number of invitations he received, and had to use considerable tact in order to avoid offending any of the many persons who wished for the pleasure of his acquaintance. His frank, genial manner and good spirits made him popular in every home. He was not musical in the ordinary sense of the term; but he could appreciate good music, and so was a welcome addition to the musical parties for which the little town was famous.

There were two houses in which John Glynne felt perfectly at home, and an invitation to either was most acceptable to him. These were Mrs. Bland's and Miss Lorraine's. His lodgings being close by in the Longbridge Road, it was easy to drop into either. Needless to say, good Mrs. Bland's heart went out towards the lonely young man, and for the sake of his absent mother, she showed him many a motherly kindness. And he enjoyed the life and freedom he found in her home. He was sure that his sister would like the girls. Aldyth Lorraine, too; Mary could not help liking her. She was somehow different from any girl he had ever met before.

John Glynne little suspected that he never ran up the Blands' steps or stopped in the High Street to speak to the Bland girls or their friend Aldyth, without a pair of keen, dark eyes noting that he did so. The eyes were those of the Blands' neighbour, Miss Tabitha Rudkin, an elderly maiden lady, grand-aunt to Clara Dawtrey. Her house stood opposite to Mrs. Bland's, just at the bend of the High Street, where a narrow lane ran into it, and was so built that the windows commanded two directions. The use which its occupant made of these windows had led the Bland girls to name the house the "Observatory. " Nothing that happened in the High Street could escape the observation of Miss Rudkin and her hired companion, Miss Purkiss.

In her way Miss Rudkin was a power in the little town, but, alas! it was a power for evil. She was one of those unhappy spinsters who have brought a slur upon the character of elderly single women. Of cold, selfish nature and ill-disciplined mind, without occupation or any close ties of affection, she had grown more and more unamiable, more suspicious, more prone to believe the worst of her fellow mortals with advancing years. Although it was no kindly interest she took in her neighbours, the interest was intense. No one knew so much as Miss Rudkin about all that happened or might happen at Woodham. She was the most arrant gossipmonger in the place, if, indeed, she might not be described as manufacturer of that commodity. All those who had a relish for the latest piece of scandal, and could enjoy hearing the character of a neighbour pulled to pieces, without being particular as to the accuracy of the statements made, were wont to frequent Miss Rudkin's house; and many others paid her attention, not because they liked her, but because they feared her.