[3] Since the serial publication of these sketches, the death of the venerable writer has taken place.
MRS. ALEXANDER FRASER.
A rapid run of about an hour and a half in duration from Victoria, with just a change of carriages at Three Bridges, but no delay, and you are set down one bright, fresh morning at the pretty and picturesque station of Faygate, Sussex, which presents a curiously countrified and even primitive aspect, considering the many large properties and cottages that lie in its close vicinity. A well turned-out little carriage and pair of handsome, high-stepping chestnuts has been sent to convey you to Carylls, the lovely home of Mrs. Alexander Fraser of Durris.
The whole place is bathed in sunshine, and the air, though somewhat frosty, is wonderfully exhilarating, as you are carried swiftly along a good winding road, with trees on either side, the branches meeting overhead. Here and there, as the horses go more slowly up a gentle acclivity, you turn round to reconnoitre a little, and find that there is a charming view behind. On the left, Leith Hill, with a tower crowning it, rises up in purple tints against the horizon. On the right lies a lovely view of undulating country, broad green fields, trim hedges, brown brakes and hollows, with a background of luxuriant wood. After a short drive, the carriage turns into a gate flanked by two high turreted walls, and a neat little lodge with diamond-paned windows, peeping out of a mass of ivy, stands just within. Leaving it on the left, you go up a wide gravelled drive through an avenue of poplars; the lawns, which are undulating, and cover about three acres of ground, are laid out with low terraced walls, over which in summer time the roses trail in rich profusion, and edged with a row of weeping ash and elm trees, they lie on both sides right up to the entrance of a big red brick house, lavishly covered with ivy, wisteria, and roses, with quaint gables and many-shaped chimneys, which is altogether most picturesque. A large conservatory unites the right and left wings, and once within this conservatory it is difficult to realize that it is still winter. Heated to a pleasant temperature, full of bright and rare bloom, the gentle breath of sweet-scented gardenias and tuberoses pervading the atmosphere, cages of many-coloured foreign birds, a gleam of Moorish lamps against the greenery overhead, comfortable lounges, wickerwork tables, Turkish rugs strewn on the tesselated floor—all combine to make it a delightful place in which to while away the time, with book or work, in friendly converse, or perhaps in solitary day dreaming.
At the present moment it is passed in friendly converse. Mrs. Alexander Fraser has received you with much cordiality, and whilst lingering amongst the flowers and the ferns, the talk drifts away to India, America, and the Continent of Europe, where she tells you the earlier part of her life was spent, and that for many years past her home has been at Carylls. She is fair and rather pale, her eyes are brown, and have a slight droop of the lids, which gives them a soft expression. The profile is just a trifle aquiline, is delicate in form, and the mouth and chin are well cut. Her hair—a little lighter in colour than the eyes, is worn in a loose, curly roll over her brow, and a thick coil on the nape of her neck. She is attired in a most becoming and well-fitting gown of black velvet and grey fur, and her manner is frank and informal.
Carylls is a very old place; a part of it, indeed, was built in 1640, but so well have all the additions and improvements of later years been carried out that the two form a truly artistic whole. Originally belonging to the well-known Roman Catholic family of Caryll, it is mentioned in Pope's poems, several of which he wrote under the old oak trees, and it is considered quite one of the show-places of this part of Sussex. Mrs. Fraser says that it suits her in every way. The air is splendid, the society is good, and she is not far enough away from town to feel out of the world. The conservatory glass door opens into a very large and lofty drawing-room with oak ceilings and great bay windows. It looks more like a foreign than an English room. An immense Indian carpet is spread over the floor, the sea-green walls are hung with many mirrors in black and gold frames, several lovely old cabinets, and plenty of Dresden, Sèvres, Chelsea, and Capo de Monti, are to be seen everywhere. Two superb silver repoussé-work Lucknow bowls are especially attractive; one, containing a many-leafed palm, stands on the grand piano, and in its fellow is a large fern, the delicate fronds drooping over a beautiful alabaster "Magdalen" close by.
"I admire these more than anything else in the room," says Mrs. Fraser, pointing to some photographs on an inlaid iron table. "These two are my sons, both of them very good-looking, as you see," she continues, smiling with very pardonable pride as she places the pictures in your hand. And truly she has a good right to feel proud of these handsome, noble-looking young men, one of whom is in the uniform of the Gordon Highlanders. Here, too, is a portrait of the Prince of Wales, with his autograph below, presented by his Royal Highness to General Fraser, which is a much-valued gift, and the others are pictures of different Indian viceroys and their wives, all given by themselves, Lord and Lady Dufferin, Lord and Lady Lytton, the latter in a frame designed by himself, which is quite a work of art, with a coronet in blue-and-white enamel. An hour is passed very pleasantly amongst the many curiosities which Mrs. Fraser has brought chiefly from foreign lands. The room is, in fact, quite a small museum. Going back through the conservatory into the other wing of the house, an open door gives a peep of the dining-room in passing. It is a good-sized room, with oak ceiling, crimson walls, and a quantity of carved oak furniture.