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But the tumbling red-gold of the hair, the frank dignity of expression, belonged to no mere cloistered maid. Meynell heard the news of Miss Puttenham's collapse with a sigh checked at birth. He asked few questions about it; so Mary reflected afterward. He would come in again on the morrow, he said, to inquire for her.
Then came William Webbe's Discourse of English Poesie, 1586, which had been preceded by Sidney's charming Defence of Poetry, composed in or about 1579, but not published till 1593. This and Puttenham's elaborate treatise, The Art of English Poesie contrived into three books , had indeed marked an epoch in the history of criticism.
The line of hills trended away greatly to the left, and the enemy had neglected to secure the passes over the hills on this flank; consequently, at nine o'clock in the morning, the British passed the range of hills without resistance, and occupied Bedford in its rear. Had Sir William Howe now pushed on vigorously, the whole of Puttenham's force must have been captured.
The excerpt which comes next in this miscellany is by the author of that treatise which is, with the exceptions, perhaps, of George Puttenham's Art of English Poesie and Ben Jonson's Discoveries, the most precious contribution to criticism made in the Elizabethan age; but, indeed, the Defence of Poesie stands alone: alone in originality, alone in inspiring eloquence.
Howe, as usual, delayed giving orders for an advance, and thus permitted the whole of Puttenham's brigade, who were cut off and must have been taken prisoners, to escape unharmed. And thus, with comparatively little loss, the Americans drew off, leaving behind them only a few heavy cannon and some bayonets and stores.
It was true that there was much friction and difference between Hester and the Fox-Wilton family; that Alice Puttenham's position and personality had always teased the curiosity of the neighbourhood; that the terms of Sir Ralph's will were perplexing; and that Meynell was Hester's guardian in a special sense, a fact for which there was no obvious explanation.
"Not so will I fight for thee, my God! not so!" he said to himself in great anguish of mind. It was true indeed that at some future time Alice Puttenham's poor secret must be told to a specified person, with her consent, and by the express direction of that honest, blundering man, her brother-in-law, whose life, sorely against his will, had been burdened with it.
Rose laughed, and glanced at the girl sitting hidden behind the tea-table. "Oh, I had had quite enough of Mr. Barron. Mr. Meynell, have I ever introduced you to my niece?" "Oh, but we know each other!" said Meynell, eagerly. "We met first at Miss Puttenham's, a week ago and since then Miss Elsmere has been visiting a woman I know." "Indeed?"
At Miss Puttenham's gate he paused, hesitated a moment, then went straight into the twilight garden, where he imagined that he should find its mistress. He found her, in a far corner, among close-growing trees and with her usual occupations, her books and her embroidery, beside her. But she was neither reading nor sewing.
"A dim and perilous way," his mind went sounding back along the intricacies of Alice Puttenham's story. The old problems arose in connection with it problems now of ethics, now of expediency. And interfused with them a sense of dull amazement and yet of intolerable repetition in this difficulty which had risen with regard to Hester. The owner of Sandford and Hester!
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