Aldyth's Inheritance by Eglanton Thorne

IT was the last day of the year. A thaw had set in and disappointed the skaters, but now the ground was again hard with frost, and a cold, grey sky seemed to presage snow. Early in the afternoon, Aldyth went down to the Brands, to see if the girls were inclined for a walk, but found neither of them at home, so after a brief chat with their mother, she started alone, and turning into the Tolleshunt Road, set off for a brisk walk.

It was very cold, but to Aldyth's vigorous young frame, the cold brought only enjoyment. She was not sorry to take a solitary walk. The close of the year gave her much to think about. She liked to look back over its months, and recall all that had happened. There was pleasure, too, in conjecturing as to the coming year, for Aldyth's past had known no shadows that could make her look forward with dread to the unknown future. She did not cherish melancholy thoughts, and indulge in gloomy imaginations, like Hilda Bland. Aldyth's inner life was healthy and glad. She did not magnify her girlhood's trials, nor brood over past vexations. Already she could smile at Guy's folly on Hilda's birthday night, and persuade herself that her grand-uncle would soon learn how unreasonable was his expectation with regard to her. It was not in the power of such considerations to depress her long.

They seemed of such slight moment in comparison with all the beautiful things of life, which for her had still the "glory and the freshness of a dream. " It was by virtue of her childlike joy in life that Aldyth helped to make life beautiful to others, who scarcely knew to what they should ascribe the charm they found in her sweet, genial presence.

Aldyth's mind in its retrospection had travelled along the year to the time of John Glynne's coming to Woodham. She was recalling her annoyance at having to give up the lectures, when, raising her eyes, she perceived the lecturer within a few yards of her. She smiled involuntarily. It seemed so strange that he should appear at that moment.

Mr. Glynne had several boys with him, Charlie Bland amongst the number, and they seemed to have had a long tramp in the country. He was a great favourite with his pupils, and even in the holidays they gathered about him. It was by no laxity of rule that he had won their liking, for he had the character of being the strictest of all the Grammar School masters. In no other class was such perfect discipline maintained as in his. A look, or at most a word, from him was sufficient to check all unruliness. The boys knew that he was not to be trifled with, for John Glynne had the sternness which, in a strong character, counterbalances gentleness and goodness of heart. No one could be more severe when the occasion was one which demanded severity. The boy detected in cramming or shamming was likely to receive a lesson he would not soon forget.

John Glynne met Aldyth's recognition with one of the full, sweet smiles which gave to his face, homely enough otherwise, a rare attraction. He paused to speak to her, and the boys trooped on, all except Charlie Bland, who felt as if Aldyth belonged to him, and he had a right to linger by her side.

"I am glad to meet you, Miss Lorraine," he said. "I was thinking of dropping in presently to say good-bye to your aunt. I am going up to town by the five o'clock train."

"Oh, are you really going home? " said Aldyth. "Then your sister is better?"

"She pronounces herself quite well now. She was to return with my mother from Brighton this morning. The house is ready, so we meet again as a united family to-night to begin the New Year together."

"Oh, that is nice," said Aldyth, heartily; "I am very glad your sister is all right again. You know I feel as if I knew her, although we have never met."

"I wish very much that she could meet you," said John Glynne, earnestly; "I am sure you two would be friends. Well, I must say good-bye, Miss Lorraine, though not for long. We shall soon be at work again, eh, Charlie?"

Charlie made such a comical grimace that Aldyth laughed.

"That is not a pleasant anticipation for Charlie, I am afraid," she said. "Do not trouble to call on aunt, Mr. Glynne; you would not find her at home."

"No? Then I must ask you to tell her of my intention. Good-bye, Miss Aldyth; I wish you a happy New Year."

"Thank you," said Aldyth. "And I wish you and your mother and sister the same. Somehow, I think it must be a happy New Year."

"For you, no doubt," he replied, looking a little enviously at the girl's glad face, glowing with health and happiness. "You have a bright prospect before you."

"Oh, I don't know," said Aldyth, a little sigh escaping as she spoke. "I begin every year with hope-the hope that it will bring my mother home to me. It seems to me that she will surely come next year; but I may be disappointed again. You cannot understand what it is to be separated from your mother all your life."

"No, I cannot," he said, his tone full of sympathy. "It must be hard. I do hope the New Year will bring you the great joy of her return."

Aldyth smiled; but her eyes grew moist. The very thought of that joy affected her like pain.

"It is a pity you are going away just as there is a chance of some skating," remarked Charlie to his tutor as they walked on. "You should see Aldyth skate. I think she is as clever on her skates as Kitty; though every one says Kitty is the best girl skater at Woodham. Guy was trying to teach Hilda last winter; but she is a duffer! She is too afraid of falling to do anything."