Chapter I: Grandmamma's Story

"YES, children, I will tell you the story of Aunt Milly's diamonds; and in telling about them, you must hear the tale of my own life almost, because one is so mixed up with the other that they can scarcely be separated."

The speaker, an old lady, looked pleasantly at a group of grandchildren, her Christmas visitors; who, tired with many a merry game, were clustering round her and asking for the story.

It was Christmas Eve, and they had been making the old hall at Denesfield Manor ring with happy voices. And now, in the dim twilight hour, they came into the drawing-room, and begged that before the gas was lighted, Grandmamma would tell them all about "those diamonds."

A charming group they made. The girls with their young, fair faces, and streaming curls, the boys full of life and strength and fun; yet all so loving to the silver-haired lady who delighted to see them round her at happy Christmastide.

Picture them for yourselves; some, the elder girls, demurely seated, ready to listen; two little ones on footstools by Grandmamma's knees, each holding a hand tenderly imprisoned; the lads just stretched here and there upon the rug, while on their upturned faces the blaze of a Christmas fire shone and danced merrily.

But listen. Grandmamma is beginning her story:

Aunt Milly and my own dear mother were sisters; but there was a great difference in their ages, and still more in their worldly positions. My aunt married, while very young, the owner of Denesfield Manor, where we are now gathered to spend our Christmas, you know, children. Her husband, Squire Dene, was a very rich man, and the diamonds you have heard so much about were his wedding-gift to Aunt Milly. They were worth many thousands of pounds, and were talked about all over the county.

But though they were so much admired, both for their cost and beauty, I do not think anybody envied Aunt Milly the possession of them.

You know, dears, there is a great difference in the way persons use jewels. If people think themselves the better for possessing them, and look down upon their neighbours because they cannot have such costly things, they show a foolish pride and a wrong spirit.

But if they look upon them as beautiful things that God has created, and to which He has been pleased to compare His own beloved servants and children in Christ, just using them in a spirit of thankfulness to their Maker, they will stir up no envy amongst those who do not possess jewels themselves.

I believe that Aunt Milly looked at her diamonds in this way. She used to say that she never put them away so carefully in their cases, and locked them up in their strong box, without thinking of God's promise to them that "feared Him, and spake often one to another." The text is in Malachi, and the words are: "And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels."

Aunt Milly told me that the sight of her husband's costly gift made her often pray to be numbered amongst the jewels of the Lord of Hosts.

My dear mother's home was very different from Denesfield. Her husband was a clergyman; and though for a few years the sisters lived near each other, my parents removed to Welland Vicarage whilst we children were quite young, and then we were a hundred and fifty miles from Aunt Milly and Denesfield.

Soon after came a great sorrow. Mr. Dene and my aunt went abroad for the winter; and while travelling together in Southern Italy, he met with an accident, from the effects of which he never recovered.

My father went to try to comfort my aunt, and thought she would return to England with him. But she could not bear to think of that fair home where her brightest and happiest years had been spent, and he came back alone, leaving her in Italy. Beautiful Denesfield was deserted, and only a few old servants remained in charge, and looked longingly, year after year, for the return of their mistress.

Welland Vicarage, where my youth was passed, was a happy, peaceful place. My dear father was the beloved vicar of the parish, and his wife and children found a welcome in every house, from the cottage to the hall.

We knew little of such great wealth as Aunt Milly could command, for Mr. Dene had left all to her; but on the other hand, we were free from those small economies and anxieties which, alas!—harass so many. The income of the vicarage was not large; but my mother's little fortune, and a small property of my father's, made our means quite sufficient.

Possessing plenty without luxury, and having occupation without wearing toil, surely we could say that "the lines were fallen unto us in pleasant places."

There was no small excitement in our country home when one day my mother, after reading a long letter from her sister, exclaimed:

"How glad I am I Aunt Milly is coming home at last!"

My father looked up with an expression of pleased surprise; and we four girls plied our mother with questions as to when Aunt Milly would arrive. Would she stay with us at Welland? And if not, where?

"Aunt Milly is going to her own home. They are now preparing Denesfield, and in a month she hopes to be settled there."

As children we had always been warmly welcomed under our aunt's roof; but during the long years which had passed since our removal to Welland, we had forgotten what Denesfield was like. We told our mother so, when she spoke of its beauty.

"You will soon have an opportunity of refreshing your memories," she answered. "Listen to what your aunt writes;" and she read from the letter:

"I hope my young nieces will be my guests as often and for as long a time as you can spare them. As Mildred is my namesake and god-daughter, you must let her come as soon as possible after I reach home. Alice, Ellen, and Miriam will forgive me this preference. Tell them, with my love, that I hope Aunt Milly's house will be a second home to them all."

There was no feeling of envy because I received the first invitation. We sisters loved each other, and if one had a special pleasure, the rest rejoiced with her. There was no striving amongst us; and, as I look back, I often feel how the sympathy which reigned amongst us increased our happiness.

I own that I was nearly wild with delight at the prospect of leaving Welland for a time. I longed to take all my dear ones with me; but in that quiet spot, with its round of duties and pleasures, the days seemed so much alike that I was eager for a change.

The time came to an end at last, and I started on my journey. Travelling was not so easy then as now; but I was able to go nearly the whole distance under the care of an old friend. Two miles from Denesfield, I changed my seat in the mail-coach for one in my aunt's carriage, which was waiting for me.

But I received my welcome before I reached the house. A tall, stately-looking lady stood on the pavement as the coach drew up, and having seen her likeness, I recognised my aunt. I sprang forward, exclaiming:

"You must be Aunt Milly, I am sure!"

What a beautiful, hearty smile of welcome lighted her face as she answered, "And you are my niece, Mildred Corsor, my dear sister Ellen's child. I am so glad to see you!"

She kissed me tenderly, and then, bidding the footman see to my luggage, she led me to the carriage, and we started for Denesfield.