whichseemed to look through and through the person to whom she was speaking,while her countenance, utterly devoid of colour, was wrinkled andpuckered in a curious way. She always wore rouge, and was dressed inthe height of fashion. She very soon discarded her widow's ugly cap,and the gayest, of colours decked her shrivelled form, the waist almostclose up under the arms, and the dress very low, a shawl being flungover her shoulders. She could laugh and enjoy a joke, but her voice wasdiscordant, and even when she wished to be most courteous there was awant of sincerity in its tone. Lady Tryon had been maid of honour inher youth to a royal personage, and possessed a fund of anecdote aboutthe Court, which was listened to with respectful delight by her countryneighbours. She was supposed to have very literary tastes, and to haveread every book in existence. The fact was that she scarcely everlooked into one, but she picked up a semblance of knowledge, and havinga retentive memory was able to make the most of any information sheobtained. In the same way she had got by heart a large supply ofpoetry, which she was very clever in quoting, and as her audience wasnot often very critical, any mistakes of which she might have beenguilty were rarely discovered. Her chief talent was in letter-writing,and she kept up a constant epistolary correspondence with aristocraticfriends. No one could more elegantly turn a compliment or expresssympathy with sorrow and disappointment. She occasionally, too, penneda copy of verses. If there was not much originality in the lines, thewords were well chosen, and the metre correct. She described herself asbeing a warm friend and a bitter enemy. The latter she had undoubtedlyproved herself on more than one occasion; but the warmth of herfriendship depended rather upon the amount of advantage she was likelyto gain by its exhibition than from any sensation of the heart. Infact, those who knew her best had reason to doubt whether she waspossessed of that article. In reality, its temperature was, withoutvariation, down at zero. Poor Sir Harcourt, a warmhearted man, haddiscovered this fact before he had been very long united to her. She,however, managed from the first to rule him with a rod of iron, and togain her own way in everything. Most fatally had she gained it in themanagement of her son, whom she had utterly ruined by her pernicioussystem of education. Sir Harcourt endeavoured to make all the excusesfor her in his power.
"She is all mind!" he used to observe. "A delightful woman--such powersof conversation! We must not expect too much from people! She has awonderful command of her feelings: never saw her excited in my life! Awonderful mind, a wonderful mind has Lady Tryon!"
Lady Tryon had, however, one passion. It absorbed her sufficiently tomake her forget any annoyances. She was fond of play. She would sit uphalf the night at cards, and, cool and calculating, she generallymanaged to come off winner. Of late years she had not been sosuccessful. Her mind was not so strong as it was, and all her powers ofcalculation had decreased. Still she retained the passion as strong asever. In London she had no difficulty in gratifying it, but during herforced visits to the country she found few people willing to play withher. At first, her country neighbours were highly flattered at beinginvited to her house, but they soon found that they had to pay somewhatdear for the honour. Still her ladyship, while winning their money, wasso agreeable, and smiled so sweetly, and spoke so softly, that likeflies round the candle, they could not resist the temptation offrequenting her house. For some years she managed to rule theneighbourhood with a pretty high hand. There was only one person whorefused to succumb to her blandishments, and of her she consequentlystood not a little in awe. This person was an authoress, not unknown tofame. She had more than once detected the piracies of which Lady Tryonhad been guilty in her poetical effusions, and could not resist, whenher ladyship spoke of books, asking her in which review she had seensuch and such remarks. Miss Bertrand was young, not pretty, certainly,but very genuine and agreeable, and possessed of a large amount oftalent. She drew admirably, and her prose and poetical works weredelightful. Lady Tryon looked upon her as a rival, and hated heraccordingly.
Such was the grand-dame under whose care Harry Tryon was to be broughtup. Dr. Jessop was not happy about the matter. He would far ratherthat the honest clerk had taken charge of the boy. He resolved,however, as far as he had the power, to counteract the injudicioussystem he discovered that Lady Tryon was pursuing. For this purpose hewon the little fellow's affection, and as he was a constant visitor atthe house in his official capacity, he was able to maintain hisinfluence. When her ladyship went to town he induced her to allow Harryto come and stay with him, and on these occasions he never failed toinvite Roger Kyffin down to pay him a visit. The worthy clerk'sholidays were therefore always spent in the neighbourhood of Lynderton.The two kindly men on these occasions did their best to pluck out theill weeds which had been growing up in Master Harry, while under hisgrandmother's care. It was, however, no easy task to root them out, andto sow good seed in their stead. Still, by their means Harry did learnthe difference between good and evil, which, if left to Lady Tryon'sinstructions, he certainly would never have done. He also became verymuch attached to the old doctor and to his younger friend, and wouldtake advice from them, which he would receive from no one else. He grewup a fine, manly boy, with many right and honourable feelings; andthough his mental powers might not have been of a very high order, hehad fair talents, and physically his development was very perfect. LadyTryon herself began to teach him to read, and as he showed aconsiderable aptitude for acquiring instruction, and gave her notrouble, she continued the process till he was able to read withoutdifficulty by himself. She put all sorts of books into his hands, fromwhich his brain extracted a strange jumble of ideas. He certainlyacquired very good manners from his grandmother, and to the surprise ofthe neighbourhood, when he was ten years old there was scarcely a betterbehaved boy in Lynderton. Dr. Jessop then suggested that he should besent to Winchester School, or some other place of public instruction.Lady Tryon would not hear of this, though she consented that he shouldattend the grammar school at Lynderton. For this the worthy doctor wasnot sorry.
"I can look after him the better," he said to himself, "and go on withthe process of pulling up the weeds during her ladyship's absence."Harry's holidays were generally spent in the country. Twice, however,his grandmother had him up to London in the winter. On these occasions,Mr. Kyffin got leave from her ladyship to have him to stay with him partof the time. Every spare moment of the day was devoted to the lad. Hetook him to all the sights of London, and in the evenings contrived forhim variety of amusement. Harry became more and more attached to Mr.Kyffin, and more ready to listen to his advice, and more anxious toplease him. Thus the boy grew on, gaining mental and physical strength,though without forming many associates of his own rank in life. Hismanners were very good, and his tastes were refined, and this preventedhim associating with the ordinary run of boys at the grammar school.
CHAPTER FOUR.
HARRY TRYON'S FIRST ADVENTURE.--LYNDERTON AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
Harry Tryon in his new home had the sea constantly before his eyes.Sometimes he saw it blue and laughing, and dotted over with the whitecanvas of numerous vessels glistening in the sunshine. At other timesthe stout ships were tossed by tempests, or doing battle with thefoaming waves. Often the boy longed for the life of a sailor, to goforth over that broad unknown ocean in search of adventure; but the oldlady would not hear of it. It was the only wish in which she thwartedhim: she usually spoiled him, and gave him everything he asked for,especially if he cried loud enough for it. But he was now getting tooold to cry for what he wanted, and he must take some other means toobtain his wishes. Poor Harry! his nursery life had been a checkeredone; sometimes shut up by himself in a dark room, sometimes almoststarved and frightened to death; at others pampered, stuffed with richfood, exhibited in the drawing-room as a prodigy, his vanity excited,and allowed to do exactly as he listed. Perhaps one style of treatmentchecked the bad effects of the other.
Lynderton stood on the bank of a small river. Harry had no difficultyin obtaining a boat, in whi
ch he learned to row. Lady Tryon did notknow how he was employed, or she would probably have sent for him, andkept him driving about in her musk-smelling carriage, which Harry hated.As he grew older he managed to get trips in fishing vessels, on boardsmall traders which ran between the neighbouring ports, and sometimes hegot a trip on board a revenue cruiser--the old "Rose," well known on thecoast. There were not many yachts in those days; but two or three ofthe people residing at Lynderton had small vessels, and Harry was alwaysa welcome guest on board them. His love for the sea was thus partiallygratified and fostered, and he became a first-rate hand in a boat oryacht. Still he yearned for something else.
One day he was standing on the quay at the foot of the town, when astout sailor lad stopped near him, and putting out his hand exclaimed:"Well, Master Harry! I did not know you at first: you are grown so.You're
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