Penelope Brandling: A Tale of the Welsh coast in the Eighteenth Century

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t's there are no neighbours; or if there are (but the nearest large house is ten miles off, and belongs to a noble lord who never leaves London) they do not show themselves. I do not even know what there is or is not in the country that lies inland; in fact, since our coming, I have never left the grounds and park of St. Salvat's, nor gone beyond the old fortified walls which encircle them. My very curiosity has gradually faded. I have never pressed Hubert for the saddle horse and the eq

ls which I throw aside, or putting a few stitches into useless tambour work; I who could form

ers later, and great barons fighting at Crecy and at Agincourt-once played so great a part, and now they have dwindled into common smugglers, for 'tis my growing persuasion that such is th

on the occasion of my late brother-in-law's wake; a barbarous funereal feast habitual in these parts, and during which a drunken guest set fire to the draperies of the coffin. I did not ask whether the body of Sir Thomas, which had been brought by sea from Bristol after his violent end there, had been destroyed in this extraordinar

in the flames!" I exclaimed with

nds, which indeed bear t

that I had taken the precaution to remove the most valuable books before giving over the library to their drunken rites. As it was, they b

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to make a deep cavity in the wall; and there, what should appear, but a number of skeletons, nine or ten, walled up erect in the thickness of the masonry. I was taking the air on the terrace outside, and hearing the men's exclamations, ran to the spot. It was a ghastly sight. But my uncle Simon, who was smoking his pipe in the great empty room, burst into uncontrollable laughter

red, and, with his wolf's e

sights for a lady, you hog, Simon?" and taking me brusquely by the hand, leads me away, and

h soldiers, though princes of these parts; and the relics of their games scarce f

e, methought, worse than drunken Simon, a

. My ancestors also were soldiers-soldiers on the field of battle-thou

f those days, dear Lady Brandling, hundreds and tho

or I hated him at that moment, "ah well, I had thoug

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share with a wife; not because she is only a wife, and he a husband, for my dear Eustace's mind is too enlightened and generous, too thoroughly imbued with the noble doctrines of our days, to admit of such a difference. But there is one of my mother's sayings which has worked very deeply into my mind. It was on the eve of my wedding. "Remember, dear little Penelope," she said, "that no degree of love, however pure, noble, and perfect, can really make two souls into one sou

h seems already so remote, he has often described to me this very house, these very rooms, told me his childish solitude and terrors, and spoken quite freely of the unhappy life of his mother by the side of his cruel and violent father, and among his father's brutal besotted companions; he had told me of the horrid heartlessness with which his only brother played upon his sensitiveness and abused his weakness, and of the evil habits, the odious scenes of intemperance and violence from which he was screened by his poor mother, and finally saved by her generous decision to part with him and have him educated abroad. He had mentioned the continual brawls of his uncles. But since his succession to the property, never a word has alluded to any of these things, nor to the knowledge he had given me of them. Once or twice, when I have mentioned, quite naturally, his dead

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quite wonderful how he lights up whenever he can get Eustace (no easy matter) to speak on philosophic subjects; it is a kind of transfiguration, and all the obliquity and fawningness about the creature vanishes. He has a good knowledge of mathematics, Eustace tells me, is a skilful mechanic, and would evidently enjoy assisting my husband in his experiments if he would let him. Towards myself he has, I do believe, a kind of sentiment, and what is worse, of paternal sentiment! Worse because my whole nature recoils from him. He is most passionately fond of mus

ugh for a gown, though Heaven knows there is no occasion for such finery at St. Salvat's! And this evening, after listening to me through some songs of Monsieur Piccini, and teaching me some of the plaintive airs of the Welsh peasantry, the man drew from his coat a fine shagreen case, which proved to contain a str

your husband, not your uncle, to hand them y

ad," I answered hotly, "the better, Uncle

hope you will accept them from me as a token of admiration and regard-or," and he fell back into his cringing yet bantering ma

te Uncle

essing table; Hubert evidently refuses to let me off his present. But I doubt whether I shall ev

bished, even to a little chalk about it. But-the man must be oddly ignorant in such matters-the pearls, seen by daylight, have evidently not come from a j

pretext, however poo

e, "you must put these pearls in a box with

he sea! What do you mean, dear Lady Brandling?" he cries.

and that's why sea water cures them when th

"that I had actually forgotten that pearls were not

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ainly trying to hide his disappointment out of gentleness towards me) would bring us once more together. Perhaps it was wicked graspingness to count upon two happinesses when one had been granted to me. Be this as it may, my ingratitude has been horribly chastened. I told my husband this morning. He was surprised; taken aback;

ll difficulties and worries to his mind. "To Bristol! to Bath!" I exclaimed, "and you speak as if you intended leaving me there

om of your country and mine that ladies of your condition should have every advanta

a physician here at the proper time? Besides," I added, "I promised, and in you

ey as that from Switzerland to Bath-for Bath is the more suitable place, upon consideration. But seeing that, as I have twice sa

ry. I should have left him; but I felt my heart swell

d very tenderly after a moment, "had

you care? Aren't you glad? Why do you talk only of plans and difficulties? W

aying. And if I send you away-if I deprive myself of the joy of being with you, believe me, it is because I cannot help it. My presence is required here. And now," he added, pu

of mothers, and what was once the kindest of husbands, and th

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riving, he has learned something which has poisoned his life and sapped his manhood. What that something is, I can in a measure guess, and it seems to me as if I ought to help him either to struggle with or else to bear it, although bearing it seems little to my taste. It is some time since I have seen through the silly fiction of the pilchard fishery of St. Salvat's; and although I have not been out of my way to manifest this knowledge, I have not hidden it, methinks, from Eustace or even from Uncle Hubert. The rooms and rooms crammed with apparent lumber, the going and coming of carriers' wagons (so that my husband's cases of instruments and my new pianoforte arrived from Bristol as by magic), the amount of money (the very maids gambling for gold in the laundry) in this beggarly house; and the nocturnal and mysterious nature of the fishing expeditions, would open the eyes even of one as foolish and inexperienced as I; nor is any care taken to deceive me. St. Salvat's Castle is simply the headquarters of the smuggling business, presided over by my uncles and doubtless constituting the chief r

With this is doubtless mingled a sense of responsibility towards me, and perhaps (for his dreamer's conscience is most tender) of exaggerated shame for bringing me here. If this be as I think, it is for me to h