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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6c29ce --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61447 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61447) diff --git a/old/61447-8.txt b/old/61447-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 588c7df..0000000 --- a/old/61447-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15850 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wrecked in Port, by Edmund Yates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Wrecked in Port - A Novel - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: February 18, 2020 [EBook #61447] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRECKED IN PORT *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the US Web Archive - - - - - - - - - - -Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=aJMOAAAAIAAJ - (Stanford University Libraries) - - - - - - -WRECKED IN PORT. - - - - - - - -EDMUND YATES'S NOVELS. - -_In boards, 2s. each; in cloth, 2s. 6d. each_. - -RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. -KISSING THE ROD. -ROCK AHEAD. -BLACK SHEEP. -RIGHTED WRONG. -YELLOW FLAG. -IMPENDING SWORD. -A WAITING RACE. -BROKEN TO HARNESS. -TWO BY TRICKS. -A SILENT WITNESS. -DR. WAINWRIGHT'S PATIENTS. -NOBODY'S FORTUNE. -WRECKED IN PORT. -THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE. - - - - - - -WRECKED IN PORT. - - -A Novel. - - - - -BY -EDMUND YATES, -AUTHOR OF "THE ROCK AHEAD," "BLACK SHEEP," "LAND AT LAST," ETC. - - - - - "All things that are -Are more with spirit chased than enjoyed." - SHAKESPEARE. - - - - - -LONDON: -GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, -BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL. -NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET. - -1879. - - - - - - -TO -FRANK IVES SCUDAMORE - -This Book -IS VERY CORDIALLY INSCRIBED. - - - - - - -CONTENTS. - -CHAPTER - - -I. MORIBUND. -II. RETROSPECTIVE. -III. MARIAN. -IV. MARIAN'S CHOICE. -V. WOOLGREAVES. -VI. BREAD-SEEKING. -VII. A NEW FRIEND. -VIII. FLITTING. -IX. THE TENTH EARL. -X. AN INTERIOR. -XI. THE LOUT. -XII. A REMOVAL. -XIII. LIFE AT WESTHOPE. -XIV. LADY CAROLINE. -XV. "NEWS FROM THE HUMMING CITY." -XVI. "HE LOVES ME; HE LOVES ME NOT." -XVII. BECOMING INDISPENSABLE. -XVIII. THE RUBICON. -XIX. MARIAN'S REPLY. -XX. DURING THE INTERVAL. -XXI. SUCCESS ACHIEVED. -XXII. THE GIRLS THEY LEFT BEHIND THEM. -XXIII. WEDNESDAY'S POST. -XXIV. POOR PAPA'S SUCCESSOR. -XXV. CLOUDING OVER. -XXVI. IN HARNESS. -XXVII. RIDING AT ANCHOR. -XXVIII. THE OPPORTUNITY. -XXIX. CANVASSING. -XXX. BAFFLED. -XXXI. AN INCOMPLETE VICTORY. -XXXII. THE SHATTERING OF THE IDOL. -XXXIII. TOO LATE. -XXXIV. FOR ONCE GERTRUDE TAKES THE LEAD. -XXXV. LADY CAROLINE ADVISES ON A DELICATE SUBJECT. -XXXVI. NIGHT AND MORNING. -XXXVII. MARIAN'S RESOLVE. -XXXVIII. THE RESULT. - - - - - - -WRECKED IN PORT. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -MORIBUND. - - -"I say! Old Ashurst's going to die." - -"No! How do you know? Who told you?" - -"I heard Dr. Osborne say so to Miss Winter." - -"Ah! so likely Dr. Osborne would tell that old beast! Why was its name -throughout doctors are the silentest fellows in the world. My uncle -Robert is a doctor, and I know all about it." - -"Well, I'll take my dick I heard old Osborne say so! I say, Hawkes, if -Ashurst does die, we shall break up at once, sha'n't we?" - -"I should think so! Stunning!" - -"And we sha'n't come back till there's a new head master?" - -"Of course not, you young ass! That don't matter much to me; I'm going -to leave this term." - -"Don't I wish I was, that's all! I say, Hawkes, do you think the -governors will give old Ashurst's place to Joyce?" - -"Joyce?--that snob! Not they, indeed! They'll get a swell from Oxford, -or somewhere, to be head master; and I should think he'll give Master -Joyce the sack. Baker, lend me twopence!" - -"No--I say, Hawkes, you owe me----" - -"I know all about that, you young beggar--pay you on Saturday. Hand -out now, or I'll fetch you a lick on the head." - -Under the pressure of this awful threat, little Sam Baker produced the -required sum from his trousers-pocket, and gave the coins to big -Alfred Hawkes, who threw them into the air, caught them over-handed, -and walked off, whistling. Little Sam Baker, left to himself, turned -out the pocket of his trousers, which he had not yet explored, found a -half-melted acidulated drop sticking in one corner, removed it, placed -it in his mouth, and enjoyed it with great relish. This refection -finished, he leaned his little arms over the park-paling of the -cricket-field, where the above-described colloquy had taken place, and -surveyed the landscape. Immediately beneath him was a large meadow, -from which the hay had been just removed, and which, looking brown and -bare and closely shorn as the chin of some retired Indian civilian, -remained yet fragrant from its recent treasure. The meadow sloped down -to a broad sluggishly-flowing stream, unnavigated and unnavigable, -where the tall green flags, standing breast-high, bent and nodded -gracefully, under the influence of the gentle summer breeze, to the -broad-leaved water-lilies couchant below them. A notion of scuttling -across the meadow and having "a bathe" in a sequestered part of the -stream which he well knew, faded out of little Sam Baker's mind before -it was half formed. Though a determined larker and leader in mischief -among his coevals, he was too chivalrous to take advantage of the -opportunity which their chief's illness gave him over his natural -enemies, the masters. Their chief's illness! And little Sam Baker's -eyes were lifted from the river and fixed themselves on a house about -a quarter of a mile further on--a low-roofed, one-storeyed, red-brick -house, with a thatched roof and little mullioned windows, from one of -which a white blind was fluttering in the evening breeze. "That's his -room," said little Sam Baker to himself. "Poor old Ashurst! He wasn't -half a bad old chap; he often let me off a hundred lines he--poor old -Ashurst!" And two large tears burst from the small boy's eyes and -rolled down his cheeks. - -The boy was right. Where the white blind fluttered was the dominie's -bedroom, and there the dominie lay dying. A gaunt, square, ugly 'room -with panelled walls, on which the paint had cracked and rubbed and -blistered, with such furniture as it possessed old-fashioned, -lumbering, and mean, with evidence of poverty everywhere--evidence of -poverty which a woman's hand had evidently tried to screen and soften -without much effect. The bed, its well-worn red-moreen curtains, with -a dirty yellow border, having been tightly bound round each sculptured -post for the admittance of air, stood near the window, on which its -occupant frequently turned his glazed and sunken eyes. The sun had -gone to rest, the invalid had marked its sinking, and so had those who -watched him, and the same thought had occurred to all, but not a word -had been spoken; but the roseate flush which it leaves behind still -lingered in the heavens, and, as if in mockery, lent momentarily to -the dying man's cheek a bright healthy hue such as it was not destined -to wear in life again. The flush grew fainter, and faded away, and -then a glance at the face, robbed of its artificial glory, must have -been conclusive as to the inevitable result. For the cheeks were -hollow and sunken, yellowish-white in colour, and cold and clammy to -the touch; the eyes, with scarcely any fire left in them, seemed set -in large bistre rings; the nose was thin and pinched, and the -bloodless lips were tightly compressed with an expression of acute -pain. - -The Rev. James Ashurst was dying. Every one in Helmingham knew that, -and nearly every one had a word of kindness and commiseration for the -stricken man, and for his wife and daughter. Dr. Osborne had carried -the news up to the Park several days previously, and Sir Thomas had -hemmed and coughed; and said, "Dear me!" and Lady Churchill had shaken -her head piteously on hearing it. "And nothing much to leave in the -way of--eh, my dear doctor?" It was the doctor's turn to shake his -head then, and he solaced himself with a large pinch of snuff, taken -in a flourishing and sonorous manner, before he replied that he -believed matters in that way were much worse than people thought; that -he did not believe there was a single penny--not a single penny: -indeed, it was a thing not to be generally talked of, but he might -mention it in the strictest confidence to Sir Thomas and my lady, who -had always proved themselves such good friends to the Ashursts--that -was, he had mentioned to Mrs. Ashurst that there was one faint hope of -saving her husband's life, if he would submit to a certain operation -which only one man in England, Godby of St. Vitus's Hospital in -London, could perform. But when he had mentioned Godby's probable -fee--and you could not expect these eminent men to leave their regular -work, and come down such a long distance under a large sum--he saw at -once how the land lay, and that it was impossible for them to raise -the money. Miss Ashurst--curious girl that, so determined and all that -kind of thing--had indeed pressed him so hard that he had sent his man -over to the telegraph-office at Brocksopp with a message inquiring -what would be Godby's exact charge for running down--it was a mere -question of distance with these men, so much a mile, and so much for -the operation--but he knew the sum he had named was not far out. - -From the Park, Dr. Osborne had driven his very decorous little -four-wheeler to Woolgreaves, the residence of the Creswells, his other -great patients, and there he had given a modified version of his -story, with a very much modified result. For old Mr. Creswell was away -in France, and neither of the two young ladies was of an age to feel -much sympathy, unless with their intimate relations, and they had been -educated abroad, and seen but little of the Helmingham folk; and as -for Tom Creswell, he was the imp of the school, having all Sam Baker's -love of mischief without any of his good heart, and would not have -oared who was ill or who died, provided illness or death afforded -occasion for slacking work and making holiday. Every one else in the -parish was grieved at the news. The rector--bland, polished, and well -endowed with worldly goods--had been most actively compassionate -towards his less fortunate brother; the farmers, who looked upon -"Master Ashurst" as a marvel of book-learning, the labourers, who had -consented to the removal of the village sports, held from time -immemorial on the village green, to a remote meadow, whence the noise -could not penetrate to the sick man's room, and who had considerately -lowered the matter as well as the manner of their singing as they -passed the schoolhouse at night in jovial chorus--all these people -pitied the old man dying, and the old wife whom he would leave behind. -They did not say much about the daughter; when they referred to her it -was generally to the effect that she would manage tolerably well for -herself, for "she were a right plucked un, Miss Marian were." - -They were right. It needed little skill in physiognomy to trace, even -under the influence of the special circumstances surrounding her, the -pluck and spirit and determination in every feature of Marian -Ashurst's face. They were patent to the most ordinary beholder; patent -in the brown eye, round rather than elongated, small yet bright as a -beryl; in the short sharply curved nose, in the delicately rounded -chin, which relieved the jaw of a certain fulness, sufficiently -characteristic, but scarcely pretty. Variety of expression was -Marian's great charm; her mobile features acting under every impulse -of her mind, and giving expression to her every thought. Those who had -seen her seldom, or only in one mood, would scarcely have recognised -her in another. To the old man, lying stretched on his death-bed, she -had been a fairy to be worshipped, a plaything to be for ever prized. -In his presence the brown eyes were always bright, the small, sharp, -white teeth gleamed between the ripe red lips, and one could scarcely -have traced the jaw, that occasionally rose rigid and hard as iron, in -the soft expanse of the downy cheek. Had he been able to raise his -eyes, he would have seen a very different look in her face as, after -bending over the bed and ascertaining that her father slept, she -turned to the other occupant of the room, and said, more in the tone -of one pondering over and repeating something previously heard than of -a direct question---- - -"A hundred and thirty guineas, mother!" - -For a minute Mrs. Ashurst made her no reply. Her thoughts were far -away. She could scarcely realise the scene passing round her, though -she had pictured it to herself a hundred times in a hundred different -phases. Years ago--how many years ago it seemed!--she was delicate and -fragile, and thought she should die before her husband, and she would -lie awake for hours in the night, rehearsing her own death-bed, and -thinking how she should tell James not to grieve after her, but to -marry again, anybody except that Eleanor Shaw, the organist's -daughter, and she _should_ be sorry to think of that flighty minx -going through the linen and china after she was gone. And now the time -had really come, and he was going to be taken from her; he, her James, -with his big brown eyes and long silky hair, and strong lithe figure, -as she first remembered him--going to be taken from her now, and leave -her an old woman, poor and lone and forlorn--and Mrs. Ashurst tried to -stop the tears which rolled down her face, and to reply to her -daughter's strange remark. - -"A hundred and thirty guineas! yes, my dear, you're thinking of -Mr.---- I forget his name--the surgeon. That was the sum he named." - -"You're sure of it, mother?" - -"Certain sure, my dear! Mr. Casserly, Dr. Osborne's assistant, a very -pleasant-spoken young man, showed me the telegraph message, and I read -it for myself. It gave me such a turn that I thought I should -have dropped, and Mr. Casserly offered me some sal volatile or -peppermint--I mean of his own accord, and never intended to charge for -it, I am sure." - -"A hundred and thirty guineas! and the one chance of saving his life -is to be lost because we cannot command that sum! Good God! to think -of our losing him for want of---- Is there no one, mother, from whom -we could get it? Think, think! It's of no use sitting crying there! -Think, is there no one who could help us in this strait?" - -The feeling of dignity which Mrs. Ashurst knew she ought to have -assumed was scared by her daughter's earnestness, so the old lady -merely fell to smoothing her dress, and, after a minute's pause, said -in a tremulous voice-- - -"I fear there is no one, my dear! The rector, I dare say, would do -something, but I'm afraid your father has already borrowed money of -him, and I know he has of Mr. King, the chairman of the governors of -the school. I don't know whether Mr. Casserly----" - -"Mr. Casserly, mother, a parish doctor's drudge! Is it likely that he -would be able to assist us?" - -"Well, I don't know, my dear, about being able, I'm sure he would be -willing! He was so kind about that sal volatile that I am sure he -would do what---- Lord! we never thought of Mr. Creswell!" - -Set and hard as Marian's face had been throughout the dialogue, it -grew even more rigid as she heard these words. Her lips tightened, and -her brow clouded as she said, "Do you think that I should have -overlooked that chance, mother? Do you not know that Mr. Creswell is -away in France? He is the very first person to whom I should have -thought of applying." - -Under any other circumstances, Mrs. Ashurst would have been -excessively delighted at this announcement. As it was, she merely -said, "The young ladies are at Woolgreaves, I think." - -"The young ladies!" repeated Marian, bitterly--"the young ladies! The -young dolls--dolts--dummies to try dresses on! What are Maude and -Gertrude Creswell to us, mother? What kindness, courtesy even, have -they ever shown us? To get at their uncle's purse is what we most -need----" - -"Oh, Marian, Marian!" interrupted Mrs. Ashurst, "what are you saying?" - -"Saying?" replied Marian calmly--"Saying? The truth! What should I say -when I know that if we had the command of Mr. Creswell's purse, -father's life might--from what I gather from Dr. Osborne, most -probably would--be saved! Are these circumstances under which one -should be meek and mild and thankful for one's lot in life! Is this a -time to talk of gratitude and---- He's moving! Yes, darling father, -Marian is here!" - - -Two hours afterwards, Marian and Dr. Osborne stood in the porch. There -were tears in the eyes of the garrulous but kindly old man; but the -girl's eyes were dry, and her face was set harder and more rigid than -ever. The doctor was the first to speak. - -"Good night, my dear child," said he; "and may God comfort you in your -affliction. I have given your poor mother a composing draught, and -trust to find her better in the morning. Fortunately, you require -nothing of that kind. God bless you, dear! It will be a consolation to -you, as it is to me, to know that your father, my dear old friend, -went off perfectly placid and peacefully." - -"It is a consolation, doctor--more especially as I believe such an -ending is rare with people suffering under his disease." - -"His disease, child? Why, what do you think your father died of?" - -"Think, doctor? I know! Of the want of a hundred and thirty guineas!" - - - - -CHAPTER II. -RETROSPECTIVE. - - -The Reverend James Ashurst had been head master of the Helmingham -Grammar School for nearly a quarter of a century. Many old people in -the village had a vivid recollection of him as a young man, with his -bright brown hair curling over his coat-collar, his frank fearless -glances, his rapid jerky walk. They recollected how he was by no means -particularly well received by the powers that then were, how he was -spoken of as "one of the new school"--a term in itself supposed to -convey the highest degree of opprobrium--and how the elders had shaken -their heads and prophesied that no good would come of the change, -and that it would have been better to have held on to old Dr. Munch, -after all. Old Dr. Munch, who had been Mr. Ashurst's immediate -predecessor, was as bad a specimen of the old-fashioned, -nothing-doing, sinecure-seeking pedagogue as could well be imagined; a -rotund, red-faced, gouty-footed divine, with a thick layer of limp -white cravat loosely tied round his short neck, and his suit of -clerical sables splashed with a culinary spray; a man whose originally -small stock of classical learning had gradually faded away, and whose -originally large stock of idleness and self-gratification had -simultaneously increased. Forty male children, born in lawful wedlock -in the parish of Helmingham, and properly presented on the foundation, -might have enjoyed the advantages of a free classical and mathematical -education at the Grammar School under the will of old Sir Ranulph -Clinton, the founder; but, under the lax rule of Dr. Munch, the forty -gradually dwindled to twenty, and of these twenty but few attended -school in the afternoon, knowing perfectly that for the first few -minutes after coming in from dinner the doctor paid but little -attention as to which members of the class might be present, and that -in a very few minutes he fell into a state of pleasant and unbroken -slumber. - -This state of affairs was terrible, and, worst of all, it was getting -buzzed abroad. The two or three conscientious boys who really wanted -to learn shook their heads in despair, and appealed to their parents -to "let them leave;" the score of lads who enjoyed the existing state -of affairs were, lad-like, unable to keep it to themselves, and went -about calling on their neighbours to rejoice with them; so, speedily, -every one knew the state of affairs in Helmingham Grammar School. The -trustees of the charity, or "governors," as they were called, had not -the least notion how to proceed. They were, for the most part, -respectable tradesmen of the place, who had vague ideas about -"college" as of a sequestered spot where young men walked about in -stuff gowns and trencher caps, and were, by some unexplained -circumstance, rendered fit and ready for the bishop to convert into -clergymen. There must, they thought, probably be in this "college" -some one fit to take the place of old Dr. Munch, who must be got rid -of, come what may. At first, the resident "governors"--the tradesmen -of Helmingham--thought it best to write to two of their colleagues, -who were non-resident, and not by any manner of means tradesmen, -being, in fact, two distinguished peers of the realm, who, holding -property in the neighbourhood, had, for political reasons, thought fit -to cause themselves to be elected governors of old Sir Ranulph -Clinton's foundation. The letters explaining the state of affairs and -asking for advice were duly written; but matters political were at a -standstill just then; there was not the remotest chance of an election -for years; and so the two private secretaries of the two noble lords -pitched their respective letters into their respective wastebaskets, -with mutual grins of pity and contempt for the writers. Thrown back on -their own resources, the resident governors determined on applying to -the rector; acting under the feeling that he, as a clergyman, must -have been to this "college," and would doubtless be able to put them -in the way of securing such a man as they required. And they were -right. The then rector, though an old man, still kept up occasional -epistolary intercourse with such of his coevals as remained at the -university in the enjoyment of dignities of fellowships; and, being -himself both literate and conscientious, was by no means sorry to lend -a hand towards the removal of Dr. Munch, whom he looked upon as a -scandal to the cloth. A correspondence entered into between the rector -of Helmingham and the Principal of St. Beowulph's College, Oxford, -resulted in the enforced resignation of Dr. Munch as the head master -of Helmingham Grammar School, and the appointment of the Reverend -James Ashurst as his successor. The old doctor took his fate very -calmly; he knew that for a long time he had been doing nothing, and -had been sufficiently well paid for it. He settled down in a pleasant -village in Kent, where an old crony of his held the position of warden -to a City Company's charity, and this history knows him no more. - -When James Ashurst received his appointment he was about -eight-and-twenty, had taken a double second class, had been scholar -and tutor of his college, and stood well for a fellowship. By nature -silent and reserved, and having found it necessary for the achievement -of his position to renounce nearly all society--for he was by no means -a brilliant man, and his successes had been gained by plodding -industry, and constant application rather than by the exercise of any -natural talent--James Ashurst had but few acquaintances, and to them -he never talked of his private affairs. They wondered when they heard -that he had renounced certain prospects, notably those of a -fellowship, for so poor a preferment as two hundred pounds a year and -a free house: for they did not know that the odd, shy, silent man had -found time in the intervals of his reading to win the heart of a -pretty trusting girl, and that the great hope of his life, that of -being able to marry her and take her to a decent home of which she -would be mistress, was about to be accomplished. - -On a dreary, dull day, in the beginning of a bitter January, Mr. -Ashurst arrived at Helmingham. He found the schoolhouse dirty, dingy, -and uncomfortable, bearing traces everywhere of the negligence and -squalor of its previous occupant; but the chairman of the governors, -who met him on his arrival, told him that it should be thoroughly -cleaned and renovated during the Easter holidays, and the mention of -those holidays caused James Ashurst's heart to leap and throb with an -intensity with which house-painting could not possibly have anything -to do. In the Easter holidays he was to make Mary Bridger his wife, -and that thought sustained him splendidly during the three dreary -intervening months, and helped him to make head against a sea of -troubles raging round him. For the task on which he had entered was no -easy one. Such boys as had remained in the school under the easy rule -of Dr. Munch were of a class much lower than that for which the -benefits of the foundation had been contemplated by the benevolent old -knight, and having been unaccustomed to any discipline, had arrived at -a pitch of lawlessness which required all the new master's energy to -combat. This necessary strictness made him unpopular with the boys, -and at first with their parents, who made loud complaints of their -children being "put upon," and in some cases where bodily punishment -had been inflicted had threatened retribution. Then the chief -tradespeople and the farmers, among whom Dr. Munch had been a daily -and nightly guest, drinking his mug of ale or his tumbler of -brandy-and-water, smoking his long clay pipe, taking his hand at -whist, and listening, if not with pleasure, at any rate without -remonstrance, to language and stories more than sufficiently broad and -indecorous, found that Mr. Ashurst civilly, but persistently, refused -their proffered hospitality, and in consequence pronounced him -"stuck-up." No man was more free from class prejudices, but he had -been bred in old Somerset country society, where the squirearchy -maintained an almost feudal dignity, and his career in college had not -taught him the policy of being on terms of familiarity with those whom -Fortune had made his inferiors. - -So James Ashurst struggled on during the first three months of his -novitiate at Helmingham, earnestly and energetically striving to do -his duty, with, it must be confessed, but poor result. The governors -of the school had been so impressed by the rector's recommendation, -and by the testimonials which the new master had submitted to them, -that they expected to find the regeneration of the establishment would -commence immediately upon James Ashurst's appearance upon the -scene, and were rather disappointed when they found that, while the -number of scholars remained much the same as at the time of Dr. -Munch's retirement, the general dissatisfaction in the village -was much greater than it had ever been during the reign of that -summarily-treated pedagogue. The rector, to be sure, remained true to -the choice he had recommended, and maintained everywhere that Mr. -Ashurst had done very well in the face of the greatest difficulties, -and would yet bring Helmingham into notice. But, notwithstanding -constant ocular proof to the contrary, the farmers held that in the -clerical profession, as in freemasonry, there was a certain occult -something beyond the ordinary ken, which bound members of "the cloth" -together, and induced them to support each other to the utmost stretch -of their consciences--a proceeding which, in the opinion of -freethinking Helmingham, allowed for a considerable amount of -elasticity. - -At length the long-looked-for Easter tide arrived, and James Ashurst -hurried away from the dull gray old midland country village to the -bright little Thames-bordered town where lived his love. A wedding -with the church approach one brilliant pathway of spring flowers, a -honeymoon of such happiness as one knows but once in a lifetime, -passed in the lovely Lake country, and then Helmingham again. But with -a different aspect. The old schoolhouse itself brave in fresh paint -and new plaster, its renovated diamond windows, its cleaned slab so -classically eloquent on the merits _fundatoris nostri_ let in over the -porch, its newly stuccoed fives' wall and fresh-gravelled playground; -all this was strange but intelligible. But James Ashurst could not -understand yet the change that had come over his inner life. To return -after a hard day's grinding in a mill of boys to his own rooms was, -during the first three months of his career at Helmingham, merely to -exchange active purpose for passive existence. Now, his life did but -begin when the labours of the day were over, and he and his wife -passed the evenings together, in planning to combat with the present, -in delightful anticipations of the future. Mr. Ashurst unwittingly, -and without the least intending it, had made a very lucky hit in his -selection of a wife, so far as the Helmingham people were concerned. -He was "that bumptious" as they expressed it, or as we will more -charitably say, he was sufficiently independent, not to care one rap -what the Helmingham people thought of anything he did, provided he -had, as indeed at that time he always had--for he was conscientious in -the highest degree--the knowledge that he was acting rightly according -to his light. In a very few weeks the actual sweetness, the quiet -frankness, the most enthusiastic charm of Mrs. Ashurst's demeanour had -neutralised all the ill-effects of her husband's three months' -previous career. She was a small-boned, small-featured, -delicate-looking little woman, and as such excited a certain amount of -compassion and kindness amid the midland-county ladies, who, as their -husbands said of them, "ran big." It was a positive relief to one to -hear her soft little treble voice after the booming diapason of the -Helmingham ladies, or to see her pretty little fat dimpled hands -flashing here and there in some coquetry of needlework after being -accustomed to looking on at the steady play of particularly bony and -knuckly members in the unremitting torture of eminently utilitarian -employment. High and low, gentle and simple, rich and poor, still felt -equally kindly disposed towards Mrs. Ashurst. Mrs. Peacock, wife of -Squire Peacock, a tremendous magnate and squire of the neighbouring -parish, fell so much in love with her that she made her husband send -their only son, a magnificent youth destined eventually for Eton, -Oxford, Parliament, and a partnership in a brewery, to be introduced -to the Muses as a parlour-boarder in Mr. Ashurst's house; and Hiram -Brooks, the blacksmith and minister of the Independent Chapel, who was -at never-ending war with all the members of the Establishment, made a -special exception in Mrs. Ashurst's favour, and doffed his greasy -leathern cap to her as she passed the forge. - -And his pretty little wife brought him good fortune, as well as -domestic happiness? James Ashurst delighted to think so. His -popularity in the village, and in the surrounding country, was on the -increase; the number of scholars on the foundership had reached its -authorised limit (a source of great gratification, though of no -pecuniary profit to the head master); and Master Peacock had now two -or three fellow-boarders, each of whom paid a fine annual sum. The -governors thought better of their head master now, and the old rector -had lived long enough to see his recommendation thoroughly accepted, -and his prophecy, as regards the improved status of the school, duly -fulfilled. Popular, successful in his little way, and happy in his -domestic relations, James Ashurst had but one want. His wife was -childless, and this was to him a source of discomfort, always felt and -occasionally expressed. He was just the man who would have doated on a -child, would have suffered himself to have been pleasantly befooled by -its gambols, and have worshipped it in every phase of its tyranny. But -it was not to be, he supposed; that was to be the one black drop in -his draught of happiness: and then, after he had been married for five -or six years, Mrs. Ashurst brought him a little daughter. His hopes -were accomplished, but he nearly lost his wife in their -accomplishment; while he dandled the newly born treasure in his arms, -Mrs. Ashurst's life was despaired of; and when the chubby baby had -grown up into a strong child, and from that sphere of life had -softened down into a peaceful girl, her mother, always slight and -delicate, had become a constant invalid, whose ill-health caused her -husband the greatest anxiety, and almost did away with the delight he -had in anticipating every wish of his darling little Marian. - -James Ashurst had longed for a child, and he loved his little daughter -dearly when she came; but even then his wife held the deepest and most -sacred place in his heart, and as he marked her faded cheek and -lustreless eye, he felt a pang of remorse, and accused himself of -having set himself up against the just judgment of Providence, and -having now received the due reward of his repining. For one who -thought his darling must be restored to health, no sacrifice could be -too great to accomplish that result; and the Helmingham people, who -loved Mrs. Ashurst dearly, but who in their direst straits were never -accustomed to look for any other advice than that which could be -afforded them by Dr. Osborne, or his village opponent, Mr. Sharood, -were struck with admiration when Dr. Langton, the great county -physician, the oracle of Brocksopp, was called into consultation. Dr. -Langton was a very little man, noted almost as much for his reticence -as his skill. He never wasted a word. After a careful examination of -Mrs. Ashurst he pronounced it to be a tiresome case, and prescribed a -four months' residence at the baths of Ems as the likely treatment to -effect a mitigation, if not a cure. Dr. Osborne, after the great man's -departure, laughed aloud in his bluff way at the idea of a country -schoolmaster sending his wife to Ems. - -"Langton is so much in the habit of going about among the country -families, and these _novi homines_ of manufacturers who stink of -brass, as they say in these parts, that he forgets there is such a -thing as having to look carefully at ways and means, my dear Ashurst, -and make both dovetail. Baths of Ems, indeed! I'm afraid you've thrown -away your ten guineas, my good friend, if that's all you've got out of -Langton!" - -But Dr. Osborne's smile was suddenly checked when Mr. Ashurst said -very quietly that as his wife's health was dearer to him than anything -on earth, and that there was no sacrifice which he would not make to -accomplish its restoration, he should find means of sending her to -Germany, and keeping her there until it was seen what effect the -change had on her. - -And he did it! For two successive summers Mrs. Ashurst went to Ems -with the old nurse who had brought her up, and accompanied her from -her pretty river-side home to Helmingham; and at the end of the second -season she returned comparatively well and strong. But she needed all -her strength and health when she looked at her husband, who came to -meet her in London, and found him thin, changed, round-shouldered, and -hollow-eyed, the very shadow of his former self. James Ashurst had -carried through his plans as regarded his wife at enormous sacrifice. -He had no ready money to meet the sudden call upon his purse which -such an expedition rendered necessary, and he had recourse to -money-lenders to raise the first loans required, then to friends to -pay the interest on and obtain renewals of these loans, then to other -moneylenders to replace the original sums, and to other friends to -repay a portion of the first friendly loans, until by the time his -wife returned from the second visit to the Continent he found himself -so inextricably involved that he dare not face his position, dare not -think of it himself, much less have taken her into his confidence, and -so went blindly on, paying interest on interest, and hoping ever with -a vague hope for some relief from his troubles. - -That relief never came to James Ashurst in his lifetime. He struggled -on in the same hopeless, helpless, hand-to-mouth fashion for about -eight years more, always impecunious in the highest degree, always -intending to retrieve his fallen fortune, always slowly but surely -breaking and becoming less and less of a man under the harass of -pecuniary troubles, when the illness which for some time had -threatened him set in, and, as we have seen, he died. - - - - -CHAPTER III. -MARIAN. - - -The little child who was so long prayed for, and who came at last in -answer to James Ashurst's fervent prayers, had nothing during her -childhood to distinguish her from ordinary children. It is scarcely -worthy of record that her mother had a hundred anecdotes illustrative -of her precocity, of her difference from other infants, of certain -peculiarities never before noticed in a child of tender years. All -mothers say these things whether they believe them or not, and Mrs. -Ashurst, stretched on her sick-couch, did believe them, and found in -watching what she believed to be the abnormal gambols of her child, a -certain relief from the constant, dreary, wearing pain which sapped -her strength, and rendered her life void and colourless and -unsatisfactory. James Ashurst believed them fervently; even if they -had required a greater amount of credulity than that which he was -blessed with, he, knowing it gave the greatest pleasure to his wife, -would have stuck to the text that Marian was a wonderful, "really, he -might say, a very wonderful child." But he had never seen anything of -childhood since his own, which he had forgotten, and the awakening of -the commonest faculties in his daughter came upon him as extraordinary -revelations of subtle character, which, when their possessor had -arrived at years of maturity, would astonish the world. The Helmingham -people did not subscribe to these opinions. Most of them had children -of their own, who, they considered, were quite as eccentric, and odd, -and peculiar as Marian Ashurst. "Not that I'm for 'lowin that to be -pert and sassy one minute, and sittin' mumchance wi'out sa much as a -word to throw at a dog the next, is quite manners," they would say -among themselves; "but what's ye to expect? Poor Mrs. Ashurst layin' -on the brode of her back, and little enough of that, poor thing, and -that poor feckless creature, the schoolmaster, buzzed i' his 'ed wi' -book larnin' and that! A pretty pair to bring up such a tyke as Miss -Madge!" - -That was in the very early days of her life. As the "tyke" grew up she -dropped all outward signs of tykishness, and seemed to be endeavouring -to prove that eccentricity was the very last thing to be ascribed to -her. The Misses Lewin, whose finishing-school was renowned throughout -the county, declared they had never had so quick or so hardworking a -pupil as Miss Ashurst, or one who had done them so much credit in so -short a time. The new rector of Helmingham declared that he should not -have known how to get through his class and parish work had it not -been for the assistance which he had received from Miss Ashurst at -times when--when really--well, other young ladies would, without the -slightest harm to themselves, be it said, have been enjoying -themselves in the croquet-ground. When the wardrobe woman retired from -the school to enter into the bonds of wedlock with the drill-sergeant -(whose expansive chest and manly figure, when going through the -"exercise without clubs," might have softened Medusa herself), Marian -Ashurst at once took upon herself the vacant situation, and resolutely -refused to allow any one else to fill it. These may have been put down -as eccentricities; they were evidences of odd character certainly not -usually found in girls of Marian's age, but they were proofs of a -spirit far above tykishness. All her best friends, except, of course, -the members of her family whose views regarding her were naturally -extremely circumscribed, noticed in the girl an exceedingly great -desire for the acquisition of knowledge, a power of industry and -application quite unusual, an extraordinary devotion to anything she -undertook, which suffered itself to be turned away by no temptation, -to be wearied by no fatigue. Always eager to help in any scheme, -always bright-eyed and clear-headed and keen-witted, never unduly -asserting herself, but always having her own way while persuading her -interlocutors that she was following their dictates, the odd shy child -grew up into a girl less shy, indeed, but scarcely less odd. And -certainly not lovable: those who fought her battles most strongly--and -even in that secluded village there were social and domestic battles, -strong internecine warfare, carried on with as much rancour as in the -great city itself--were compelled to admit there was "a something" in -her which they disliked, and which occasionally was eminently -repulsive. - -This something had developed itself strongly in the character of the -child, before she emerged into girlhood; and though it remained vague -as to definition, while distinct as to impression in the minds of -others, Marian herself understood it perfectly, and could have told -any one, had she chosen, what it was that made her unlike the other -children, apart from her being brighter and smarter than they, a -difference which she also perfectly understood. She would have said, -"I am very fond of money, and the others are not; they are content to -have food and clothes, but I like to see the money that is paid for -them, and to have some of it, all for myself, and to heap it up and -look at it, and I am not satisfied as they are, when they have what -they want--I want better things, nicer food, and smarter clothes, and -more than them, the money. I don't say so, because I know papa hasn't -got it, and so he cannot give it to me; but I wish he could. There is -no use talking and grumbling about things we cannot have; people laugh -at you, and are glad you are so foolish when you do that, so I say -nothing about it, but I wish I was rich." - -Marian would have made some such answer to any one who should have -endeavoured to get at her mind to find out what that was lurking -there, never clearly seen, but always plainly felt, which made her -"old fashioned," in other than the pathetic and interesting sense in -which that expression has come to be used with reference to children, -before she had entered upon her teens. - -A clever mother would have found out this grave and ominous component -of the child's character--would have interpreted the absence of the -thoughtless extravagance, so charming, if sometimes so trying, of -childhood--would have been quick to have noticed that Marian asked, -"What will it cost?" and gravely entered into mental calculation on -occasions when other children would have demanded the purchase of a -coveted article clamorously, and shrieked if it were refused. But Mrs. -Ashurst was not a clever mother--she was only a loving, indulgent, -rather helpless one; and the little Marian's careful ways were such a -practical comfort to her, while the child was young, that it never -occurred to her to investigate their origin, to ask whether such a -very desirable and fortunate effect could by possibility have a -reprehensible, dangerous, insidious cause. Marian never wasted her -pennies, Marian never spoiled her frocks, Marian never lost or broke -anything; all these exceptional virtues Mrs. Ashurst carefully noted -and treasured in the storehouse of her memory. What she did not notice -was, that Marian never gave anything away, never voluntarily shared -any of her little possessions with her playfellows, and, when directed -to do so, complied with a reluctance which all her pride, all her -brave dread of the appearance of being coerced, hardly enabled her to -subdue, and suffered afterwards in an unchildlike way. What she did -not observe was, that Marian was not to be taken in by glitter and -show; that she preferred, from the early days in which her power of -exhibiting her preference was limited by the extent of the choice -which the toy-merchant---who combined hardbake and hairdressing with -ministering to the pleasures of infancy--afforded within the sum of -sixpence. If Marian took any one into her confidence, or asked advice -on such solemn occasions--generally ensuing on a protracted hoarding -of the coin in question--it would not be by the questions, "Is it the -prettiest?" "Is it the nicest?" but, "Do you think it is worth -sixpence?" and the child would look from the toy to the money, held -closely in the shut palm of her chubby hand, with a perturbed -countenance, in which the pleasure of the acquisition was almost -neutralised by the pain of the payment--a countenance in which the -spirit of barter was to be discerned by knowing eyes. But none such -took note of Marian's childhood. The illumination of love is rather -dazzling than searching in the case of mothers of Mrs. Ashurst's -class, and she was dazzled. Marian was perfection in her eyes, and at -an age at wthe inversion of the relations between mother and -daughter, common enough in later life, would have appeared to others -unreasonable, preposterous, Mrs. Ashurst surrendered herself wholly, -happily, to the guidance and the care of her daughter. The inevitable -self-assertion of the stronger mind took place, the inevitable -submission of the weaker. In this instance, a gentle, persuasive, -unconscious self-assertion, a joyful yielding, without one traversing -thought of humiliation or deposition. - -Her daughter was so clever, so helpful, so grave, so good; her economy -and management--surely they were wonderful in so young a girl, and -must have come to her by instinct?--rendered life such a different, so -much easier a thing, delicate as she was, and requiring so -disproportionate a share of their small means to be expended on her, -that it was not surprising Mrs. Ashurst should see no possibility of -evil in the origin of such qualities. - -As for Marian's father, he was about as likely to discover a comet or -a continent as to discern a flaw in his daughter's moral nature. The -child, so longed for, so fervently implored, remained always, in her -father's sight, Heaven's best gift to him; and he rejoiced -exceedingly, and wondered not a little, as she developed into the girl -whom we have seen beside his death-bed. He rejoiced because she was so -clever, so quick, so ready, had such a masterly mind and happy faculty -of acquiring knowledge; knowledge of the kind he prized and -reverenced; of the kind which he felt would remain to her, an -inheritance for her life. He wondered why she was so strong, for he -knew she did not take the peculiar kind of strength of character from -him or from her mother. - -It was not to be wondered at that these peculiarities of Marian -Ashurst were noticed by the inhabitants of the village where she was -born, and where her childish days had been passed; but it was -remarkable that they were regarded with anything but admiration. For a -keen appreciation of money, and an unfailing determination to obtain -their money's worth, had long been held to be eminently characteristic -of the denizens of Helmingham. The cheesefactor used to declare that -the hardest bargains throughout his county connection were those which -Mrs. Croke, and Mrs. Whicher, and, worst of all, old Mrs. M'Shaw (who, -though Helmingham born and bred, had married Sandy M'Shaw, a Scotch -gardener, imported by old Squire Creswell) drove with him. Not the -very best ale to be found in the cellars of the Lion at Brocksopp (and -they could give you a good glass of ale, bright, beaming, and mellow, -at the Lion, when they choose), not the strongest mahogany-coloured -brandy-and-water, mixed in the bar by the fair hands of Miss Parkhurst -herself, not even the celebrated rum-punch, the recipe of which, like -the songs of the Scandinavian scalds, had never been written out, but -had descended orally to old Tilley, the short, stout, rubicund -landlord--had ever softened the heart of a Helmingham farmer in the -matter of business, or induced him to take a shilling less on a -quarter of wheat, or a truss of straw, than he had originally made up -his mind to sell it at. - -"Canny Helmingham" was its name throughout the county, and its people -were proud of it. Mr. Chambré, an earnest clergyman who had succeeded -the old rector, had been forewarned of the popular prejudice, and on -the second Sunday of his ministry addressed his parishioners in a very -powerful and eloquent discourse upon the wickedness of avarice and the -folly of heaping up worldly riches; after which, seeing that the only -effect his sermon had was to lay him open to palpable rudeness, he -wisely concentrated his energies on his translation of Horace's Odes -(which has since gained him such great renown, and of which at least -forty copies have been sold), and left his parishioners' souls to take -care of themselves. But however canny and saving they might be, and -however, sharply they might battle with the cheesefactor and look -after the dairymaid, as behoved farmers' wives in these awful days of -free trade (they had a firm belief in Helmingham that "Cobden," under -which generic name they understood it, was a kind of pest, as is the -smut in wheat, or the tick in sheep), all the principal dames in the -village were greatly shocked at the unnatural love of money which it -was impossible to help noticing in Marian Ashurst. - -"There was time enow to think o' they things, money and such-like -fash, when pipple was settled down," as Mrs. Croke said; "but to see -children hardenin' their hearts and scrooin' their pocket-money is -unnatural, to say the least of it!" It was unnatural and unpopular in -Helmingham. Mrs. Croke put such a screw on the cheesefactor, that in -the evening after his dealings with her, that worthy filled the -commercial room at the Lion with strange oaths and modern instances -of sharp dealing in which Mrs. Croke bore away the palm; but she -was highly indignant when Lotty Croke's godmother bought her a -savings-bank, a gray edifice, with what theatrical people call a -practicable chimney, down which the intended savings should be -deposited. Mrs. Whicher's dairymaid, who, being from Ireland, and a -Roman Catholic in faith, was looked upon with suspicion, not to say -fear, in the village, and who was regarded by the farmers as in -constant though secret communication with the Pope of Rome and the -Jesuit College generally, declared that her mistress "canthered the -life out of her" in the matter of small wages and much work; but Mrs. -Whicher's daughter, Emily, had more crimson gowns, and more elegant -bonnets, with regular fields of poppies, and perfect harvests of ears -of corn growing out of them, than any of her compeers, for which -choice articles the heavy bill of Madame Morgan--formerly of Paris, -now of Brocksopp--was paid without a murmur. "It's unnat'ral in a gell -like Marian Ashurst to think so much o' money and what it brings," -would be a frequent remark at one of those private Helmingham -institutions known as "thick teas." And then Mrs. Croke would say, -"And what like will a gell o' that sort look to marry? Why, a man maun -have poun's and poun's before she'd say 'yea' and buckle to!" - -But that was a matter which Marian had already decided upon. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -MARIAN'S CHOICE. - - -At a time when it seemed as though the unchildlike qualities which had -distinguished the child from her playmates and coevals were -intensifying and maturing in the girl growing up, then, to all -appearance, hard, calculating, and mercenary, Marian Ashurst fell in -love, and thenceforward the whole current of her being was diverted -into healthier and more natural channels. Fell in love is the right -and the only description of the process so far as Marian was -concerned. Of course she had frequently discussed the great question -which racks the hearts of boarding-school misses, and helps to fill up -the spare time of middle-aged women, with her young companions, had -listened with outward calmness and propriety, but with an enormous -amount of unshown cynicism, to their simple gushings, and had said -sufficient to lead them to believe that she joined in their fervent -admiration of and aspiration for young men with black eyes and white -hands, straight noses and curly hair. But all the time Marian was -building for herself a castle in the air, the proprietor of which, -whose wife she intended to be, was a very different person from the -hairdressers' dummies whose regularity of feature caused the hearts of -her companions to palpitate. The personal appearance of her future -husband had never given her an instant's care; she had no preference -in the colour of his eyes or hair, in his height, style, or even of -his age, except she thought she would rather he were old. Being old, -he was more likely to be generous, less likely to be selfish, more -likely to have amassed riches and to be wealthy. His fortune would be -made, not to be made; there would be no struggling, no self-denial, no -hope required. Marian's domestic experiences caused her to hate -anything in which hope was required; she had been dosed with hope -without the smallest improvement, and had lost faith in the treatment. -Marriage was the one chance possible for her to carry out the dearest, -most deeply implanted, longest-cherished aspiration of her heart--the -acquisition of money and power. She knew that the possession of the -one led to the other; from the time when she had saved her schoolgirl -pennies and had noticed the court paid to her by her little friends, -to the then moment when the mere fact of her having a small stock of -ready money, even more than her sense and shrewdness, gave her -position in that impecunious household, she had recognised the -impossibility of achieving even a semblance of happiness in poverty. -When she married, it should be for money, and for money alone. In the -hard school of life in which she had been trained she had learned that -the prize she was aiming at was a great one, and one difficult to be -obtained; but that knowledge only made her the more determined in its -pursuit. The difficulties around her were immense; in the narrow -circle in which she lived she had not any present chances of meeting -with any person likely to be able to give her the position which she -sought, far less of rendering him subservient to her wishes. But she -waited and hoped; she was waiting and hoping, calmly and quietly -fulfilling the ordinary duties of her very ordinary life, but never -losing sight of her fixed intent. Then across the path of her life -there came a man who seemed to give promise of eventually fulfilling -the requirements she had planned out for herself. It was but a -promise; there was nothing tangible; but the promise was so good, and -the girl's heart yearned for an occupant, for, with all its hard -teaching and its worldly aspirations, it was but human after all. So -her human heart and her worldly wisdom come to a compromise in the -matter of her acceptance of a lover, and the result of that compromise -was her engagement to Walter Joyce. - -When the Helmingham Grammar School was under the misrule of old Dr. -Munch, then at its lowest ebb, and nominations to the foundation were -to be had for the asking, and, indeed, in many cases sent a-begging, -it occurred to the old head master to offer one of the vacancies to -Mr. Joyce, the principal grocer and maltster of the village, whose son -was then just of an age to render him accessible to the benefits of -the education which Sir Ranulph Clinton had devised to the youth of -Helmingham, and which was being so imperfectly supplied to them under -the auspices of Dr. Munch. You must not for an instant imagine that -the offer was made by the old doctor out of pure loving-kindness and -magnanimity; he looked at it, as he did at most things, from a purely -practical point of view: he owed Joyce the grocer so much money, and -if Joyce the grocer would write him a receipt in full for all his -indebtedness in return for a nomination for Joyce junior, at least he, -the doctor, would not have done a bad stroke of business. He would -have wiped out an existing score, the value of which proceeding meant, -in Dr. Munch's eyes, that he would be enabled at once to commence a -fresh one, while the acquisition of young Joyce as a scholar would not -cause one atom of difference in the manner in which the school was -conducted, or rather, left to conduct itself. The offer was worth -making, for the debt was heavy, though the doctor was by no means sure -of its being accepted. Andrew Joyce was not Helmingham-born; he had -come from Spindleton, one of the large inland capitals, and had -purchased the business which he owned. He was not popular among -the Helmingham folk, who were all strict church-people so far as -morning-service attending, tithe-paying, and parson-respecting were -concerned, from the fact that his religious tendencies were suspected -to be what the villagers termed "Methodee." He had his seat in the -village church, it is true, and put in an appearance there on the -Sunday morning; but instead of spending the Sabbath evening in the -orthodox way--which at Helmingham consisted in sitting in the best -parlour with a very dim light, and enjoying the blessings of sound -sleep while Nelson's _Fasts and Festivals_, or some equally proper -work, rested on the sleeper's knee, until it fell off with a crash, -and was only recovered to be held upside down until the grateful -announcement of the arrival of supper--Mr. Joyce was in the habit of -dropping into Salem Chapel, where Mr. Stoker, a shining light from the -pottery district, dealt forth the most uncomfortable doctrine in the -most forcible manner. The Helmingham people declared, too, that Andrew -Joyce was "uncanny" in other ways; he was close-fisted and niggardly, -his name was to be found on no subscription-list; he was litigious; he -declared that Mr. Prickett, the old-fashioned solicitor of the -village, was too slow for him, and he put his law-matters into the -hands of Messrs. Sheen and Nasmyth, attorneys at Brocksopp, who levied -a distress before other people had served a writ, and who were -considered the sharpest practitioners in the county. Old Dr. Munch had -heard of the process of Messrs. Sheen and Nasmyth, and the dread of -any of it being exercised on him originally prompted his offer to -Andrew Joyce. He knew that he might count on an ally in Andrew Joyce's -wife, a superior woman, in very delicate health, who had great -influence with her husband, and who was devoted to her only son. Mrs. -Joyce, when Hester Baines, had been a Bible-class teacher in -Spindleton, and had had herself a fair amount of education--would have -had more, for she was a very earnest woman in her vocation, over -striving to gain more knowledge herself for the mere purpose of -imparting it to others, but from her early youth she had been fighting -with a spinal disease, to which she was gradually succumbing; so that -although sour granite-faced Andrew Joyce was not the exact helpmate -that the girl so full of love and trust could have chosen for herself, -when he offered her his hand and his home, she was glad to avail -herself of the protection thus afforded, and of the temporary peace -which she could thus enjoy until called, as she thought she should be, -very speedily to her eternal rest. - -That call did not come nearly as soon as Hester Baines had -anticipated, not, indeed, until nearly a score of years after she gave -up Bible-teaching, and became Andrew Joyce's wife. In the second year -of her marriage a son was born to her, and thenceforward she lived for -him, and for him alone. He was a small, delicate, sallow-faced boy, -with enormous liquid eyes, and rich red lips, and a long throat, and -thin limbs, and long skinny hands. A shy retiring lad, with an -invincible dislike to society of any kind, even that of other boys; -with a hatred of games and fun, and an irrepressible tendency to hide -away somewhere, anywhere, in an old lumber-room amid the disused -trunks, and broken clothes-horses, and general lumber, or under the -wide-spreading branches of a tree, and then, extended, prone on -his stomach, to lie with his head resting on his hands, and a book -flat between his face-supporting arms. He got licked before he had -been a week at the school, because he openly stated he did not like -half-holidays, a doctrine which when first whispered among his -schoolfellows was looked upon as incredible, but which, on proof of -its promulgation, brought down upon its holder severe punishment. - -Despite of all Dr. Munch's somnolency and neglect, despite of all his -class fellows' idleness, ridicule, or contumely, young Joyce would -learn, would make progress, would acquire accurate information in a -very extraordinary way. When Mr. Ashurst assumed the reins of -government at Helmingham Grammar School, the proficiency, promise, and -industry of Walter Joyce were the only things that gave the now -dominie the smallest gleam of interest in his fresh avocation. With -the advent of the new head master Walter Joyce entered upon another -career; for the first time in his life he found some one to appreciate -him, some one who could understand his work, praise what he had done, -and encourage him to greater efforts. This had hitherto been wanting -in the young man's life. His father liked to know that the boy "stuck -to his book;" but was at last incapable of understanding what that -sticking to the book produced; and his mother, though conscious that -her son possessed talent such as she had always coveted for him, had -no idea of the real extent of his learning. James Ashurst was the only -one in Helmingham who could rate his scholar's gifts at their proper -value, and the dominie's kind heart yearned with delight at the -prospect of raising such a creditable flower of learning in such -unpromising soil. He busied himself, not merely with the young man's -present but with his future. It was his greatest hope that one of the -scholarships at his old college should be gained by a pupil from -Helmingham, and that that pupil should be Walter Joyce. Mr. Ashurst -had been in communication with the college authorities on the subject; -he had obtained a very unwilling assent--an assent that would have -been a refusal had it not been for Mrs. Joyce's influence--from -Walter's father that he would give his son an adequate sum for his -maintenance at the University, and he was looking forward to a -quick-coming time when a scholarship should be vacant, for which he -was certain Walter had a most excellent chance, when Mrs. Joyce had a -fit and died. - -From that time forth Andrew Joyce was a changed man. He had loved his -wife in his grim, sour, puritanical way, loved her sufficiently to -strive against this grimness and puritanism to the extent of his -consenting to live for the most part from the ordinary fashion of -the world. But when that gentle influence was once removed, when the -hard-headed, narrow-minded man had no longer the soft answer to turn -away his wrath, the soft face to look appealingly up against his harsh -judgment, the quick intellect to combat his one-sided dogmatisms, he -fell away at once, and blossomed out as the bitter bigot into which he -had gradually but surely been growing. No college education for his -son then; no assistance from him for a bloated hierarchy, as he -remarked at a public meeting, glancing at Mr. Sifton, the curate, who -had eighty pounds a year and four children; no money of his to be -spent by his son in a dissolute and debauched career at the -University. Mr. Stoker had not been at any university--as, indeed, he -had not, having picked up most of his limited education from a -travelling tinker, who combined pot-mending and knife-grinding with -Bible and tract selling;--and where would you meet with a better -preacher of the Gawspel, a more shining light, or a comelier vessel? -Mr. Stoker was all in all to Andrew Joyce then, and when Andrew Joyce -died, six months afterwards, it was found that, with the exception of -the legacy of a couple of hundred pounds to his son, he had left all -his money to Mr. Stoker, and to the chapel and charities represented -by that erudite divine. - -It was a sad blow to Walter Joyce, and almost as sharp a one to James -Ashurst. The two men--Walter was a man now--grieved together over the -overturned hopes and the extinguished ambition. It was impossible for -Walter to attempt to go to college just then. There was no scholarship -vacant, and if there had been, the amount to be won might probably -have been insufficient even for this modest youth. There was no help -for it; he must give up the idea. What, then, was he to do? Mr. -Ashurst answered that in his usual impulsive way. Walter should become -under master in the school. The number of boys had increased -immensely. There was more work than he and Dr. Breitmann could manage; -oh yes, he was sure of it--he had thought so a long time; and Walter -should become third classical master, with a salary of sixty pounds a -year, and board and lodging in Mr. Ashurst's house. It was a rash and -wild suggestion, just likely to emanate from such a man as James -Ashurst. The number of boys had increased, and Mr. Ashurst's energy -had decreased; but there was Dr. Breitmann, a kindly, well-read, -well-educated doctor of philosophy, from Leipzig; a fine classical -scholar, though he pronounced "amo" as "ahmo," and "Dido" as "Taito," -a gentleman, though his clothes were threadbare, and he only ate meat -once a week, and sometimes not then unless he were asked out, and a -disciplinarian, though he smoked like a limekiln; a habit which in the -Helmingham schoolboys' eyes proclaimed the confirmed debauchee of the -Giovanni or man-about-town type. Welter Joyce had been a favourite -pupil of the doctor's, and was welcomed as a colleague by his old -tutor with the utmost warmth. It was understood that his engagement -was only temporary; he would soon have enough money to enable him, -with a scholarship, to astonish the University, and then---- Meanwhile -Mr. Ashurst and all around repeated that his talents were marvellous, -and his future success indisputable. - -That was the reason why Marian Ashurst fell in love with him. As has -before been said, she thought nothing of outward appearance, although -Walter Joyce had grown into a sufficiently comely man, small indeed, -but with fine eyes and an eloquent mouth, and a neatly turned figure; -nor, though a refined and educated girl, did she estimate his talents -save for what they would bring. He was to make a success in his future -life; that was what she thought of--her father said so, and so far, in -matters of cleverness and book-learning, and so on, her father's -opinion was worth something. Walter Joyce was to make money and -position, the two things of which she thought, and dreamed, and hoped -for night and day. There was no one else among her acquaintance with -his power. No farmer within the memory of living generations had done -more to keep up the homestead bequeathed to him whilst attempting to -increase the number or the value of his fields, and even the -gratification of her love of money would have been but a poor -compensation to a girl of Marian's innate good breeding and refinement -for being compelled to pass her life in the society of a boor or a -churl. No! Walter Joyce combined the advantage of education and good -looks with the prospect of attaining wealth and distinction: he was -her father's favourite, and was well thought of by everybody, and--and -she loved him very much, and was delighted to comfort herself with the -thought that in doing so she had not sacrificed any of what she was -pleased to consider the guiding principles of her life. - -And he, Walter Joyce, did he reciprocate--was he in love with Marian? -Has it ever been your lot to see an ugly or, better still, what is -called an ordinary man--for ugliness has become fashionable both in -fiction and in society--to see an ordinary-looking man, hitherto -politely ignored, if not snubbed, suddenly taken special notice of by -a handsome woman, a recognised leader of the set, who, for some -special purpose of her own, suddenly discovering that he has brains, -or conversational power, or some peculiar fascination, singles him out -from the surrounding ruck, steeps him in the sunlight of her eyes, and -intoxicates him with the subtle wiles of her address? It does one -good, it acts as a moral shower-bath, to see such a man under such -circumstances. Your fine fellow simpers and purrs for a moment, and -takes it all as real legitimate homage to his beauty; but the ordinary -man cannot, so soon as he has got over his surprise at the sensation, -cannot be too grateful, cannot find ways and means--cumbrous -frequently and ungraceful, but eminently sincere--of showing his -appreciation of his patroness. Thus it was with Walter Joyce. The -knowledge that he was a grocer's son had added immensely to the -original shyness and sensitiveness of his disposition, and the free -manner in which his small and delicate personal appearance had been -made the butt of outspoken "chaff" of the schoolboys had made him -singularly misogynistic. Since the early days of his youth, when he -had been compelled to give a very unwilling attendance twice a week at -the dancing academy of Mr. Hardy, where the boys of the Helmingham -Grammar School had their manners softened, nor were suffered to become -brutal, by the study of the Terpsichorean art, in the company of the -young ladies from the Misses Lewin's establishment, Walter Joyce had -resolutely eschewed any and every charge of mixing in female society. -He knew nothing of it, and pretended to despise it. It is needless to -say, therefore, that so soon as he was brought into daily -communication with a girl like Marian Ashurst, possessed both of -beauty and refinement, he fell hopelessly in love with her, and gave -up every thought, idea, and hope, save that in which she bore a part. -She was his goddess, and he would worship her humbly and at a -distance. It would be sufficient for him to touch the hem of her robe, -to hear the sound of her voice, to gaze at her with big dilated eyes, -which--not that he knew it--were eloquent with love, and tenderness, -and worship. - -Their love was known to each other, and to but very few else. Mr. -Ashurst, looking up from his newspaper in the blessed interval between -the departure of the boys to bed and the modest little supper, the -only meal which the family--in which Joyce was included--had in -private, may have noticed the figures of his daughter and his usher, -not his favourite pupil, lingering in the deepening twilight round the -lawn, or seen "their plighted shadows blended into one" in the soft -rays of the moonlight. But if he thought anything about it, he never -made any remark. Life was very hard and very earnest with James -Ashurst, and he may have found something softening and pleasing in -this little bit of romance, something which he may have wished to -leave undisturbed by worldly suggestions or practical hints. Or, he -may have had his idea of what was actually going on. A man with an -incipient disease beginning to tell upon him, with a sickly wife, and -a perpetual striving not merely to make both ends meet, but to prevent -them bursting so wide asunder as to leave a gap through which he must -inevitably fall into ruin between them, has but little time, or -opportunity, or inclination, for observing narrowly the conduct even -of those near and dear to him. Mrs. Ashurst, in her invalid state, was -only too glad to think that the few hours which Marian took in respite -for attendance on her mother were pleasantly employed, to inquire -where or in whose society they were passed--neither Marian's family -nor Joyce kept any company by whom their absence would be missed; and -as for the villagers, they had fully made up their minds on the one -side that Marian was determined to make a splendid match; on the -other, that the mere fact of Walter Joyce's scholarship was so great -as to incapacitate him from the pursuit of ordinary human frailties: -so that not the ghost of a speculation as to the relative position of -the couple had arisen amongst them. And the two young people loved, -and hoped, and erected their little castles in the air, which were -palatial indeed as hope-depicted by Marian, though less ambitious as -limned by Walter Joyce, when Mr. Ashurst's death came upon them like a -thunderbolt, and blew their unsubstantial edifices into the air. - - -See them here on, this calm summer evening, pacing round and round the -lawn, as they used to do, in the old days already ages ago as it -seems, when, James Ashurst, newspaper in hand, would throw occasional -glances at them from the study window. Marian, instead of letting her -fingers lightly touch her companion's wrist, as is her wont, has -passed her arms through his, and her fingers are clasped together -round it, and she looks up in his face, as they come to a standstill -beneath the big outspread branches of the old, oak, with an earnest -tearful gage such as she has seldom, if ever, worn before. There must -be matter of moment between these two just now, for Joyce's face looks -wan and worn; there are deep hollows beneath his large eyes, and he -strives ineffectually to conceal, with an occasional movement of his -hand, the rapid anxious play of the muscles round his mouth. Marian is -the first to speak. - -"And so you take Mr. Benthall's decision No final, Walter, and are -determined to go to London?" - -"Darling, what else can I do? Here is Mr. Benthall's letter, in which -he tells me that, without the least wish to disturb me--a mere polite -phrase that--he shall bring his own assistant master to Helmingham. He -writes and means kindly, I've no doubt--but here's the fact!" - -"Oh yes, I'm sure he's a gentleman, Walter; his letter to mamma proves -that, offering to defer his arrival at the schoolhouse until our own -time. Of course that is impossible, and we go into Mrs. Swainson's -lodgings at once." - -"My dearest Marian, my own pet, I hate to think of you in lodgings; I -cannot bear to picture you so!" - -"You must make haste to get your position, and take me to share it, -then, Walter!" said the girl, with a half-melancholy smile; "you must -do great things, Walter. Dear papa always said you would, and you must -prove how right he was." - -"Dearest, your poor father calculated on my success at college for the -furtherance of my fortune, and now all that chance is over! Whatever I -do now must be----" - -"By the aid of your own talent and industry, exactly the same -appliances which you had to rely on if you had gone to the University, -Walter. You don't fear the result? You're not alarmed and desponding -at the turn which affairs have taken? It's impossible you can fail to -attain distinction, and--and money and--and position, Walter--you -must,--don't you feel it?--you must!" - -"Yes, dear, I feel it; I hope--I think; perhaps not so strongly, so -enthusiastically as you do. You see,--don't be downcast, Marian, but -it's best to look these things in the face, darling!--all I can try to -get is a tutor's, or an usher's, or a secretary's place, and in any of -these the want of the University stamp is heavily against me. There's -no disguising that, Marian!" - -"Oh, indeed; is that so?" - -"Yes, child, undoubtedly. The University degree is like the Hall-mark -in silver, and I'm afraid I shall find very few persons willing to -accept me as the genuine article without it." - -"And all this risk might have been avoided if your father had -only----" - -"Well, yes; but then, Marian darling, if my father had left me money -to go to college immediately on his death I should never have known -you--known you, I mean, as you are, the dearest and sweetest of -women." - -He drew her to him as he spoke, and pressed his lips on her forehead. -She received the kiss without any undue emotion, and said-- - -"Perhaps that had been for the best, Walter." - -"Marian, that's rank blasphemy. Fancy my hearing that, especially, -too, on the night of my parting with you! No, my darling, all I want -you to have is hope, hope and courage, and not too much ambition, -dearest. Mine has been comparatively but a lotus-eating existence -hitherto; to-morrow I begin the battle of life." - -"But slightly armed for the conflict, my poor Walter." - -"I don't allow that, Marian. Youth, health, and energy are not -bad weapons to have on one's side, and with your love in the -background----" - -"And the chance of achieving fame and fortune for yourself--keep that -in the foreground!" - -"That is to me, in every way, less than the other; but it is, of -course, an additional spur. And now----?" - -And then? When two lovers are on the eve of parting, their -conversation is scarcely very interesting to any one else. Marian and -Walter talked the usual pleasant nonsense, and vowed the usual -constancy, took four separate farewells of each other, and parted with -broken accents and lingering hand-clasps, and streaming eyes. But when -Marian Ashurst sat before her toilet-glass that night in the room -which had so long been her own, and which she was so soon to vacate, -she thought of what Walter Joyce had said as to his future, and -wondered whether, after all, she had not miscalculated the strength, -not the courage, of the knight whom she had selected to wear her -colours in his helm in the great contest. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -WOOLGREAVES. - - -"You will be better when you have made the effort, mother," said -Marian Ashurst to the widow, one day, when the beauty of the summer -was at its height, and death and grief seemed very hard to bear, in -the face of the unsympathising sunshine. "Don't think I underrate the -effort, for indeed I don't, but you will be better when you have made -it." - -"Perhaps so, my dear," said Mrs. Ashurst, with reluctant -submissiveness. "You are right; I am sure you always are right; but it -is so little use to go to any place where one can't enjoy one's self, -and where everybody must see that it is impossible; and you have--you -know----" Her lips trembled, her voice broke. Her little hands, still -soft and pretty, twined themselves together, with an expression of -pain. Then she said no more. - -Marian had been standing by the open window, looking out, the side of -her head turned to her mother, who was glancing at her timidly. Now -she crossed the room, with a quick steady step, and knelt down by Mrs. -Ashurst's chair, clasping her hands upon the arm. - -"Listen to me, dear," she said, with her clear eyes fixed on her -mother's face, and her voice, though softened to a tone of the utmost -tenderness, firm and decided. "You must never forget that I know -exactly what and how much you feel, and that I share it all" (there -was a forlornness in the girl's face which bore ample testimony to the -truth of what she said) "when I tell you, in my practical way, what we -must do. You remember, once, then, you spoke to me about the -Creswells, and I made light of them and their importance and -influence. I would not admit it; I did not understand it. I had not -fully thought about it then; but I admit it now. I understand it now, -and it is my turn to tell you, my dearest mother, that we must be -civil to them; we must take, or seem to take, their offers of -kindness, of protection, of intimacy, as they are made. We cannot -afford to do otherwise, and they are just the sort of people to be -offended with us irreparably, if we did not allow them to extend their -hospitality to us. It is rather officious, rather ostentatious; it has -all the bitterness of making us remember more keenly what they _might_ -have done for us, but it _is_ hospitality, and we need it; it _is_ the -promise of further services which we shall require urgently. You must -rouse yourself, mother; this must be your share of helpfulness to me -in the burden of our life. And, after all, what does it matter? What -real difference does it make? My father is as much present to you and -to me in one place as in another. Nothing can alter, or modify, or -soften; nothing can deepen or embitter that truth. Come with me--the -effort will repay itself." - -Mrs. Ashurst had begun to look more resolved, before her daughter, who -had spoken with more than her usual earnestness and decision, had come -to an end of her argument. She put her arm round the girl's neck, and -gave her a timid squeeze, and then half rose, as though she were ready -to go with her, anywhere she chose, that very minute. Then Marian, -without asking another word on the subject, busied herself about her -mother's dress, arranging the widow's heavy sombre drapery with a deft -hand, and talking about the weather, the pleasantness of their -projected walk, and the daily dole of Helmingham gossip. Marian cared -little for gossip of any kind herself, but it was a godsend to her -sometimes, when she had particular reasons for not talking to her -mother of the things that were in her mind, and did not find it easy -to invent other things to talk to her about. - -The object which Marian had in view just now, and which she had had -some difficulty in attaining, was the inducing of her mother, who had -passed the time since her bereavement in utter seclusion, to accept -the invitation of Mr. Creswell, the owner of Woolgreaves, the local -grandee _par excellence_, the person whose absence Marian had so -lamented on the occasion of her father's illness, to pass "a long day" -with him and his nieces. It was not the first time such an invitation -had reached Mrs. Ashurst. Their rich neighbour, the dead -schoolmaster's friend, had not been neglectful of the widow and her -daughter, but it was the first time Marian had made up her mind that -this advance on his part must be met and welcomed. She had as much -reluctance to break through the seclusion of their life as her mother, -though of a somewhat different stamp; but she had been pondering and -calculating, while her mother had been only thinking and suffering, -and she had decided that it must be done. She did not doubt that she -should suffer more in the acting upon this decision than her mother; -but it was made, and must be acted upon. So Marian took her mother to -Woolgreaves. Mr. Creswell had offered to send a carriage (he rather -liked the use of the indefinite article, which implied the extent of -his establishment) to fetch the ladies, but Marian had declined this. -The walk would do her mother good, and brace her nerves; she meant to -talk to her easily, with seeming carelessness, of the possibilities of -the future, on the way. At length Mrs. Ashurst was ready, and her -daughter and she set forth, in the direction of the distressingly -modern, but really imposing, mansion, which, for the first time, they -approached, unsupported by him, in whose presence it had never -occurred to them to suffer from any feeling of inferiority of position -or means, or to believe that any one could regard them in a slighting -manner. - -Mr. Creswell, of Woolgreaves, had entertained a sincere regard, built -on profound respect, for Mr. Ashurst. He knew the inferiority of his -own mind, and his own education, to those of the man who had -contentedly and laboriously filled so humble a position--one so -unworthy of his talents, as well as he knew the superiority of his own -business abilities, the difference which had made him a rich man, and -which would, under any circumstances, have kept Mr. Ashurst poor. He -was a man possessed of much candour of mind and sound judgment; and -though he preferred, quite sincerely, the practical ability which had -made him what he was, and heartily enjoyed all the material advantages -and pleasures of his life, he was capable of profound admiration for -such unattainable things as taste, learning, and the indefinable moral -and personal elements which combine to form a scholar and a gentleman. -He was a commonplace man in every other respect than this, that he -most sincerely despised and detested flattery, and was incapable of -being deceived by it. He had not failed to understand that it would -have been as impossible to James Ashurst to flatter as to rob him; and -for this reason, as well as for the superiority he had so fully -recognised, he had felt warm and abiding friendship for him, and -lamented his death, as he had not mourned any accident of mortality -since the day which had seen his pretty young wife laid in her early -grave. Mr. Creswell, a poor man in those days, struggling manfully -very far down on the ladder, which he had since climbed with the ease -which not unfrequently attends effort, when something has happened to -decrease the value of success, had loved his pretty, uneducated, merry -little wife very much, and had felt for a while after she died, that -he was not sure whether anything was worth working or striving for. -But his constitutional activity of mind and body had got the better of -that sort of feeling, and he had worked and striven to remarkably -good purpose; but he had never asked another woman to share his -fortunes. - -This was not altogether occasioned by lingering regret for his pretty -Jenny. He was not of a sentimental turn of mind, and he might even -have been brought to acknowledge, reluctantly, that his wife would -probably have been much out of place in the fine house, and at the -head of the luxurious establishment which his wealth had formed. She -was humbly born, like himself, had not been ambitious, except of love -and happiness, and had had no better education than enabled her to -read and write, not so perfectly as to foster in her a taste for -either occupation. If Mr. Creswell had a sorrowful remembrance of her -sometimes, it died away with the reflection that she had been happy -while she lived, and would not have been so happy now. His continued -bachelor estate was occasioned rather by his close and engrossing -attention to the interests of his business, and, perhaps, also to the -narrow social circle in which he lived. Pretty, uneducated, simple -young country women will retain their power of pleasing men who have -acquired education, and made money, and so elevated themselves far -above their original station; but the influence of education and -wealth upon the tastes of men of this sort is inimical to the chances -of the young women of the classes in society among which they -habitually find their associates. The women of the "well-to-do" world -are unattractive to those men, who have not been born in it. Such men -either retain the predilections of their youth for women like those -whose girlhood they remember, or cherish ambitious aspirations towards -the inimitable, not to be borrowed or imported, refinement of the -women of social spheres far above them. - -The former was Mr. Creswell's case, in as far as anything except -business can be said to have been active in his affairs. The "ladies" -in the Helmingham district were utterly uninteresting to him, and he -had made that fact so evident long ago that they had accepted it; of -course regarding him as an "oddity," and much to be pitied; and since -his nieces had taken up their abode, on the death of their father, Mr. -Creswell's only brother, at Woolgreaves, a matrimonial development in -Mr. Creswell's career had been regarded as an impossibility. The owner -of Woolgreaves was voted by general feminine consent "a dear old -thing," and a very good neighbour, and the ladies only hoped he might -not have trouble before him with "that pickle, young Tom," and were -glad to think no poor woman had been induced to put herself in for -such a life as that of Tom's step-mother would have been. - -Mr. Creswell's only brother had belonged, not to the "well-to-do" -community, but, on the contrary, to that of the "neer-do-weels," and -he had died without a shilling, heavily in debt, and leaving two -helpless girls--sufficiently delicately nurtured to feel their -destitution with keenness amounting to despair, and sufficiently -"fashionably," _i.e_. ill, educated to be wholly incapable of helping -themselves--to the mercy of the world. The contemplation of this -contingency, for which he had plenty of leisure, for he died of a -lingering illness, did not appear to have distressed Tom Creswell. He -had believed in "luck" all his life, with the touching devotion of a -selfish man who defines "luck" as the making of things comfortable for -himself, and is not troubled with visions of, after him, the modern -version of the deluge, which takes the squalid form of the -pawnbroker's and the poor-house; and "luck" had lasted his time. It -had even survived him, so far as his children were concerned, for his -brother, who had quarrelled with him, more from policy and of -deliberate interest, regarding him as a hopeless spendthrift, the -helping of whom was a useless extravagance, than from anger or -disgust, came to the aid of the widow and her children, when he found -that things were very much worse than he had supposed they would prove -to be. - -Mrs. Tom Creswell afforded a living example of her husband's "luck." -She was a mild, gentle, very silly, very self-denying, estimable -woman, who laved the "ne'er-do-weal" so literally with all her heart -that when he died she had not enough of that organ left to go on -living with. She did not see why she should try, and she did not try, -but quietly died in a few months, to the astonishment of rational -people, who declared that Tom Creswell was a "good loss," and had -never been of the least use either to himself or any other human -being. What on earth was the woman about? Was she such an idiot as not -to see his faults? Did she not know what a selfish, idle, extravagant, -worthless fellow he was, and that he had left her to either pauperism -or dependence on any one who would support her, quite complacently? If -such a husband as _he_ was--what she had seen in him beyond his -handsome face and his pleasant manner, _they_ could not tell--was to -be honoured in this way, gone quite daft about, in fact, they really -could not perceive the advantage to men in being active, industrious, -saving, prudent, and domestic. Nothing could be more true, more -reasonable, more unanswerable, or more ineffectual. Mrs. Tom -Creswell did not dispute it; she patiently endured much bullying by -strong-minded, tract-dropping females of the spinster persuasion; she -was quite satisfied to be told she had proved herself unworthy of a -better husband. She did not murmur as it was proved to her, in the -fiercest forms of accurate arithmetic, that her Tom had squandered -sums which might have provided for her and her children decently, and -had not even practised the poor self-denial of paying for an insurance -on his life. She contradicted no one, she rebuked no one, she asked -forbearance and pity from no one; she merely wept and said she was -sure her brother-in-law would be kind to the girls, and that she would -not like to be a trouble to Mr. Creswell herself, and was sure her Tom -would not have liked her to be a trouble to Mr. Creswell. - -On this point the brother of the "departed saint," as the widow called -the amiable idler of whose presence she considered the world unworthy, -by no means agreed with her. Mr. Creswell was of opinion that so long -as trouble kept clear of Tom, Tom would have been perfectly -indifferent as to where it lighted. But he did not say so. He had not -much respect for his sister-in-law's intellect, but he pitied her, and -he was not only generous to her distress, but also merciful to her -weakness. He offered her a home at Woolgreaves, and it was arranged -that she should "try" to go there, after a while. But she never tried, -and she never went; she "did not see the good of" anything; and in six -months after Tom Creswell's death his daughters were settled at -Woolgreaves, and it is doubtful whether the state of orphanhood was -ever in any case a more tempered, modified misfortune than in theirs. - -Thus the family party at the handsome house, which Mrs. Ashurst and -her daughter were about to visit, was composed of Mr. Creswell, his -son Tom, a specimen of the schoolboy class, of whom this history has -already afforded a glimpse, and the Misses Creswell, the Maude and -Gertrude of whom Marian had, in her grief, spoken in terms of sharp -and contemptuous disparagement which, though not entirely censurable, -judged from her point of view, were certainly not altogether deserved. - -Mr. Creswell earnestly desired to befriend the visitor and her -daughter. Gertrude Creswell thought it would be very "nice" to be -"great friends" with that clever Miss Ashurst, and had, with all the -impulsiveness of generous girlhood, exulted in the idea of being, in -her turn, able to extend kindness to people in need of it, even as she -and her sister had been. But Maude, who, though her actual experience -of life had been identical with her sister's, had more natural -intuition and caution, checked the enthusiasm with which Gertrude drew -this picture. - -"We must be very careful, Gerty dear," she said; "I fancy this clever -Miss Ashurst is very proud. People say you never find out the nature -of any one until trouble brings it to the light. It would never do to -let her think one had any notion of doing her services, you know. She -might not like it from us; uncle's kindness to them is a different -thing; but we must remember that _we_ are, in reality, no better off -than she is." - -Gertrude reddened. She had not spoken with the remotest idea of -patronage of Miss Ashurst in her mind, and her sister's warning pained -her. Gertrude had a dash of her father's _insouciance_ in her, though -in him it had been selfish joviality, and in her it as only happy -thoughtlessness. It had occurred to Gertrude, more than once before -to-day, to think she should like to be married to some one whom she -could love very much indeed, and away from this fine place, which did -not belong to them, though her uncle was very kind, in a home of her -awn. Maude had a habit of saying and looking things which made -Gertrude entertain such notions; and now she had, with the best -intentions, injured her pleasure in the anticipation of the visit of -Mrs. Ashurst and Marian. - -It was probably this little incident which lent the slight touch of -coldness and restraint to the manner of Gertrude Creswell which Marian -instantly felt, and which she erroneously interpreted. When they had -met formerly, there had been none of this hesitating formality. - -"These girls don't want us here?" said Marian to herself; "they grudge -us their uncle's friendship, lest it should take a form which would -deprive them of any of his money." - -Perhaps Marian was not aware of the resolve, lurking in her heart even -then, that such was precisely the form which that friendship should be -made to take. The evil warp in her otherwise frank and noble mind told -in this. Gertrude Creswell, to whom in particular she imputed -mercenary feeling, and the forethought of a calculating jealousy, was -entirely incapable of anything of the kind, and was actuated wholly by -her dread that Marian should misinterpret any premature advance -towards intimacy on her part as an impertinence. Thus the foundation -of a misunderstanding between the two was laid. - -Marian's thoughts had been busy with the history of the sisters, as -she and her mother approached Woolgreaves. She had heard her father -describe Tom Creswell and his wife, and dwell upon the fortunate -destiny which had transferred Maude and Gertrude to their uncle's -care. She thought of all that now with bitterness. The contrast -between her father's character, life, and fate, and the character, -life, and fate of Tom Creswell, was a problem difficult to solve, hard -to endure. Why had the measure been so differently--she would, she -_must_ say so unjustly--meted to these two men? Her fancy dwelt on -every point in that terrible difference, lingered around the two -deathbeds, pictured the happy, sheltered, luxurious, unearned security -of those whom the spendthrift had left uncared for, and the harsh, -gloomy future before her mother and herself, in which only two things, -hard work and scanty means, were certain, which had been the vision -her father must have seen of the fate of those he loved, when he, so -fitted to adorn an honoured and conspicuous position, had died, worn -out in the long vain strife with poverty. Here were the children of -the man who had lived utterly for self, and the widow and child of the -"righteous," who had done his duty manfully from first to last. Hard -and bitter were Marian's reflections on this contrast, and earnestly -did she wish that some speedy means of accelerating by efforts of her -own the fulfilment of those promises of Providence, in which she felt -sometimes tempted to put little faith, might arise. - -"I suppose he was not exactly 'forsaken,'" said the girl in her mind -as she approached the grand gates of Woolgreaves, whose ironmongery -displayed itself in the utmost profusion, allied with artistic designs -more sumptuous than elegant, "and that no one will see us 'begging -our bread;' but there is only meagre consolation to me in this, since -he had not what might--or all their service is a pretence, all their -'opinions' are lies--have saved him, and I see little to rejoice in in -being just above the begging of bread." - -"They have done a great deal to the place since we were here, Marian," -said Mrs. Ashurst, looking round admiringly upon the skilful gardening -and rich display of shrubs and flowers and outdoor decorations of all -kinds. "It must take a great many hands to keep this in order. Not so -much as a leaf or a pebble out of its place." - -"They say there are four gardeners always employed," said Marian. "I -wish we had the money it costs; we needn't wish Midsummer-day further -off then. But here is Mr. Creswell, coming to meet us." - -Marian Ashurst was much more attractive in her early womanhood than -she had promised to be as a very young girl, and the style of her face -and figure was of the kind which is assisted in its effect by a -somewhat severe order of costume. She was not beautiful, not even -positively handsome, and it is possible she might have looked -commonplace in the ordinary dress of young women of limited means, -where cheap material and coarse colouring must necessarily be used. In -her plain attire of deep mourning, with no ornament save one or two -trinkets of jet which had been her mother's, Marian Ashurst looked far -from commonplace, and remarkably ladylike. The strongly defined -character in her face, the composure of her manner, the quietness of -her movements, were not the charms which are usually associated with -youth, but they were charms, and her host was a person to whom they -were calculated to prove especially charming. Except in his generally -benevolent way of entertaining a kindly regard for his friend's -daughter, Mr. Creswell had never noted nor taken any particular notice -of Marian Ashurst; but she had not been an hour in his house before -she impressed herself upon him as being very different from all the -other girls of his acquaintance, and much more interesting than his -nieces. - -Mr. Creswell felt rather annoyed with his nieces. They were civil, -certainly; but they did not seem to understand the art of making the -young lady who was visiting them happy and "at home." There was none -of the freemasonry of "the young person" about them. After a while, -Mr. Creswell found that the order of things he had been prepared -for--what he certainly would have taken to be the natural order of -things--was altered, set aside, he did not know how, and that he was -walking along the trim garden-paths, after luncheon, with Miss -Ashurst, while Maude and Gertrude took charge of the visitor to whom -he had meant to devote himself, and were making themselves as amiable -and pleasant to her as they had failed to make themselves to Marian. -Perhaps the fault or the reason was as much on Miss Ashurst's side as -on theirs. Before he had conducted his visitor over all the "show" -portions of the grounds and gardens, Mr. Creswell had arrived at the -conclusion that Marian was a remarkable young woman, with strong -powers of observation, and a decided aptitude for solid and sensible -conversation, which probably explained the coldness towards her of -Maude and Gertrude, who were not remarkable, except for fine -complexions, and hair to correspond, and whose talk was of the most -vapid description, so far as he had had the opportunity of observing. - -There was not much of importance in appearance to relate about the -occurrences of a day which was destined to be remembered as very -important by all who passed its hours at Woolgreaves. It had the usual -features of a "long day," spasmodic attacks of animation and lapses of -weariness, a great deal of good eating and drinking, much looking at -pictures and parade-books, some real gratification, and not a little -imperfectly disguised fatigue. It differed in one respect, however, -from the usual history of a "long day." There was one person who was -not glad when it came to an end. That person was Mr. Creswell. - -Poor Mrs. Ashurst had found her visit to Woolgreaves much more -endurable than she expected. She had indeed found it almost -pleasurable. She had been amused--the time had passed, the young -ladies had been kind to her. She praised them to Marian. - -"They are nice creatures," she said; "really tender-hearted and -sincere. Of course, they are not clever like you, my dear; but then -all girls cannot be expected to be _that_." - -"They are very fortunate," said Marian, moodily. "Just think of the -safe and happy life they lead. Living like that _is_ living; _we_ only -exist. They have no want for the present; no anxiety for the future. -Everything they see and touch, all the food they eat, everything they -wear means money." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Ashurst; "and after all, money is a great thing. Not, -indeed," she added, with tears in her eyes, "that I could care much -for it now, for it could not, if we had it, restore what we have -lost." - -"No," said Marian, frowning, "but it could have saved us from losing -it; it could have preserved love and care, home, position, and -happiness to us. True, mother, money is a great thing." - -But Marian's mother was not listening to her. Her mind had returned to -its familiar train of thought again. - -Something had been said that day about Mrs. Ashurst's paying -Woolgreaves a longer visit, going for a week or two, of course -accompanied by Marian. Mrs. Ashurst had not decidedly accepted or -negatived the proposition. She felt rather nervous about it herself, -and uncertain as to Marian's sentiments, and her daughter had not -aided her by word or look. Nor did Marian recur to the subject when -she found themselves at home again in the evening. But she remembered -it, and discussed it with herself in the night. Would it be well that -her mother should be habituated to the comforts, the luxuries of such -a house, so unattainable to her at home, so desirable in her state of -broken health and spirits? This was the great difficulty which beset -Marian, and she felt she could not decide it then. - -Her long waking reverie of that night did not concern itself with the -people she had been with. It was fully occupied with the place. Her -mind mounted from floor to floor of the handsome house, which -represented so much money, reviewing and appraising the furniture, -speculating on the separate and collective value of the plate, the -mirrors, the hangings, the decorations. Thousands and thousands of -pounds, she thought, hundreds and hundreds of times more money than -she had ever seen, and nothing to do for it all. Those girls who lived -among it, what had they done that they should have all of it? Why had -she, whose mother needed it so much, who could so well appreciate it, -none of it? Marian's last thought 'before she fell asleep that night -was, not only that money was a great thing, but that almost anything -would be worth doing to get money. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -BREAD-SEEKING. - - -There are few streets in London better known to that large army of -martyrs, the genteelly poor, than those which run northward from the -Strand, and are lost in the two vast tracts of brick known under the -name of Covent Garden and Drury Lane. Lodging-house keepers do not -affect these streets, preferring the narrow no-thoroughfares on the -other side of the Strand, abutting on the river, streets eternally -ringing with the hoarse voice of the costermonger, who descends on one -side and ascends on the other, eternally echoing to the grinding of -the organ-man, who gets through his entire _répertoire_ twice over -during his progress to the railing overlooking the Embankment, and his -return to the pickle-shop at the top, eternally haunted by the -beer-boy and the newspaper-boy, by postmen infuriated with wrongly -addressed letters, and by luggage-laden cabs. In the streets bearing -northward no costermonger screams and no organ is found; the denizens -are business-people, and would very soon put a stop to any such -attempt. - -Business, and nothing but business, in that drab-coloured house with -the high wire-blinds in the window, over which you can just catch a -glimpse of the top of a hanging white robe. Cope and Son are the -owners of the drab-coloured house, and Cope and Son are the largest -retailers of clerical millinery in London. All day long members of -"the cloth," sleek, pale, emaciated, high-church curates, stout, -fresh-coloured, huge-whiskered, broad-church rectors, fat, -pasty-faced, straight-haired evangelical ministers, are pouring into -Cope and Son's for clothes, for hoods, for surplices, for stoles, for -every variety of ecclesiastical garment. Cope and Son supply all, in -every variety, for every sect; the M.B. waistcoat and stiff-collared -coat reaching to his heels in which the Honourable and Reverend Cyril -Genuflex looks so imposing, as he, before the assembled vestry, defies -the scrutiny of his evangelical churchwarden; the pepper-and-salt -cutaway in which the Reverend Pytchley Quorn follows the hounds; the -black-stuff gown in which the Reverend Locock Congreve perspires and -groans as he deals out denunciations of those sitting under him; and -the purple bed gown, turned up with yellow satin, and worked all -over with crosses and vagaries, in which poor Tom Phoole, such a -kind-hearted and such a soft-headed vessel, goes through his -ritualistic tricks,--all these come from the establishment of Cope and -Son's, in Rutland Street, Strand. - -The next house on the right is handy for the high-church clergymen, -though the evangelicals shut their eyes and turn away their heads as -they pass by it. Here Herr Tubelkahn, from Elberfeld, the cunning -worker in metals, the artificer of brass and steel and iron, and -sometimes of gold and silver, the great ecclesiastical upholsterer, -has set up his Lares and Penates, and here he deals in the loveliest -of mediaevalisms and the choicest of renaissance wares. The sleek -long-coated gentry who come to make purchases can scarcely thread -their way through the heterogeneous contents of Herr Tubelkahn's shop. -All massed together without order; black oaken chairs, bought up by -Tubelkahn's agents from occupants of tumbledown old cottages in -midland districts, crosiers and crucifixes, ornate and plain, from -Elberfeld, sceptres and wands from Solingen, lecterns in the shape of -enormous brazen eagles with outstretched wings from Birmingham, -enormous candelabra and gaseliers of Gothic pattern from Liège, and -sculptured pulpits and carved altar-rails from the Curtain Road, -Shoreditch. Altar-cloths hang from the tables, and altar-carpets, none -of your common loom-woven stuff, but hand-worked and--as Herr -Tubelkahn gives you to understand--by the fairest fingers, are spread -about to show their patterns to the best advantage, while there is so -much stained glass about ready for immediate transfer to the oriel -windows of country churches, that when the sun shines, Herr -Tubelkahn's customers seem to be suddenly invested with Joseph's -garment of many colours, and the whole shop lights up like a -kaleidoscope. - -Many of the customers, both of Messrs. Cope and Tubelkahn, were -customers, or, more euphuistically, clients, of Messrs. Camoxon, who -kept the celebrated Clerical and Educational Registry higher up the -street; but these customers and clients invariably crossed and -recrossed the road, in proceeding from the one to the other of these -establishments, in order to avoid a certain door which lay midway -between them. A shabby swing-door, sun-blistered, and with its bottom -panel scored with heel and toe kicks from impatient entrance-seeking -feet; a door flanked by two flaming bills, and surrounded by a host of -close-shaven, sallow-faced men, in shabby clothes and shiny hats, and -red noses and swinging canes, noble Romans, roistering cavaliers, -clamorous citizens, fashionable guests, virtuous peasants--all at a -shilling a night; for the door was, in fact, the stage-door of the -Cracksideum Theatre. The shabby men in threadbare jauntiness smiled -furtively, and grinned at each other as they saw the sleek gentlemen -in shining broad-cloth step out of their path; but the said gentlemen -felt the proximity of the Thespian temple very acutely, and did not -scruple to say so to Messrs. Camoxon, who, as in duty bound, shrugged -their shoulders deprecatingly, and--changed the conversation. They -were very sorry, but--and they shrugged their shoulders. When men -shrug their shoulders to their customers it is time that they should -retire from business. It was time that the Messrs. Camoxon so retired, -for the old gentleman now seldom appeared in Rutland Street, but -remained at home at Wimbledon, enacting his favourite character of the -British squire, and actually dressing the part in a blue coat and gilt -buttons, gray knee-breeches, and Hessian boots; while young George -Camoxon hunted with the Queen's hounds, had dined twice at the Life -Guards' mess at Windsor, and had serious thoughts of standing for the -county. - -But the business was far too good to give up; every one who had a -presentation or an advowson to sell took it to Camoxons'; the head -clerk could tell you off-hand the net value of every valuable living -in England, the age of the incumbent, and the state of his health. -Every rector who wanted assistance, every curate who wanted a change, -in servants' phrase, "to better himself," every layman who wanted a -title for orders, every vicar who, oddly enough, wanted to change a -dull, bleak living in the north for a pleasant social sphere of duty -in a cheerful neighbourhood in the south of England; parents on the -lookout for tutors, tutors in search of pupils--all inscribed their -names on Camoxon's books, and looked to him for assistance in their -extremity. There was a substantial, respectable, orthodox appearance -about Camoxons', in the ground-glass windows, with the device of the -Bible and Sceptre duly inscribed thereon; in the chaste internal -fittings of polished mahogany and plain horsehair stools, with the -Churchman's Almanack on the wall in mediaeval type, very illegible, -and in a highly mediaeval frame, all bosses and clamps; in the big -ledgers and address-books, and in the Post-office Directory, which -here shed its truculent red cover, and was scarcely recognisable in a -meek sad-coloured calf binding; and, above all, in the grave, solemn, -sable-clad clerks, who moved noiselessly about, and who looked like -clergymen playing at business. - -Up and down Rutland Street had Walter Joyce paced full a thousand -times since his arrival in London. The name of the street and of its -principal inhabitants was familiar to him through the advertisements -in the clerical newspaper which used to be sent to Mr. Ashurst at -Helmingham; and no sooner was he settled down in his little lodging in -Winchester Street than he crossed the mighty artery of the Strand, and -sought out the street and the shops of which he had already heard so -much. He saw them, peered in at Copes', and at Tubelkahn's, and looked -earnestly at Camoxons' ground-glass window, and half thought of going -in to see whether they had anything which might suit him on their -books. But he refrained until he had received the answers to a certain -advertisement which he had inserted in the newspaper, setting forth -that a young man with excellent testimonials--he knew he could get -them from the rector of Helmingham--was desirous of giving instruction -in the classics and mathematics. Advertising, he thought, was a better -and more gentlemanly medium than causing a detailed list of his -accomplishments to be inscribed in the books of the Ecclesiastical -Registry, as a horse's pedigree and performances are entered in the -horsedealer's list; but when, after hunting for half an hour through -the columns of the newspaper's supplement, he found his advertisement -amongst a score of others, all of them from men with college honours, -or promising greater advantages than he could hold forth, he began to -doubt the wisdom of his proceeding. However, he would wait and see the -result. He did so wait for three days, but not a single line -addressed, as requested, to W.J. found its way to Winchester Street. -Then he sent for the newspaper again, and began to reply to the -advertisements which he thought might suit him. He had no high -thoughts or hopes, no notions of regenerating the living generation, -or of placing tuition on a new footing, or rendering it easy by some -hitherto unexplained process. He had been an usher in a school; for -the place of an usher in a school he had advertised; and if he could -have obtained that position he would have been contented. But when the -few answers to his advertisement arrived, he saw that it was -impossible to accept any of the offers they contained. One man wanted -him to teach French with a guaranteed Parisian accent, to devote his -whole time out of school-hours to the boys, to supervise them in the -Indian-sceptre athletic exercises, and to rule over a dormitory of -thirteen, "where, in consequence of the lax supervision of the last -didaskolos, severe measures would be required," for twenty pounds a -year. Another gentleman, whose notepaper was ornamented with a highly -florid Maltese cross, and who dated his letter "Eve of S. Boanerges," -wished to know his opinion of the impostor-firebrand M. Luther, and -whether he (the advertiser) had any connections in the florist or -decorative line, with whom an arrangement in the mutual-accommodation -way could be entered into; while a third, evidently a grave -sententious man, with a keen eye to business, expressed, on -old-fashioned Bath-post, gilt-edged letter-paper, his desire to know -"what sum W.J. would be willing to contribute for the permission to -state, after a year's residence, that he had been one of Dr. Sumph's -most trusted helpmates and assistants." - -No good to be got that way, then, and a visit to Camoxons' imminent, -for the money was running very, very short, and the conventional -upturning of stones, by no means leaving one in its normal position, -must be proceeded with. Visit to Camoxon's paid, after much staring -through the ground-glass window (opaque generally, but transparent in -the Bible and Sceptre artistic bits), much ascent and descent of two -steps cogitatively, final rush up top step wildly, and hurried, not to -say pantomimic, entrance through the ground-glass door, to be -confronted by the oldest and most composed of the sable-clad clerks. -Bows exchanged; name and address required; name and address given in a -low and serious whisper, and repeated aloud in a clear high treble, -each word as it was uttered being transcribed in a hand which was the -very essence of copperplate into an enormous book. Position required? -Second or third mastership in a classical school, private tutorship, -as secretary or librarian to a nobleman or gentleman. So glibly ran -the old gentleman's steel pen over these items that Walter Joyce began -to fancy that applicants for one post were generally ready and willing -to take all or any, as indeed they were. "Which University, what -college?" The old gentleman scratched his head with the end of his -steel penholder, and looked across at Walter, with a benevolent -expression which seemed to convey that he would rather the young man -would say Christchurch than St. Mary's, and Trinity in preference to -Clare Hall. Walter Joyce grew hot to his ear-tips, and his tongue felt -too large for his mouth, as he stammered out, "I have not been to -either University--I----" but the remainder of the sentence was lost -in the loud bang with which the old gentleman clapped-to the heavy -sides of the big book, clasped it with its brazen clasp, and hoisted -it on to a shelf behind him with the dexterity of a juggler. - -"My good young friend," said the old clerk blandly, "you might have -saved yourself a vast amount of vexation, and me a certain amount of -trouble, if you had made that announcement earlier! Good morning!" - -"But do you mean to say----" - -"I mean to say that in that book at the present moment are the names -of sixty gentlemen seeking just the employment which you have named, -all of whom are not merely members of colleges, but members who have -taken rank--prizemen, first-class men, wranglers, senior optimes; they -are on our books, and they may remain there for months before we get -them off. You may judge, then, what chance you would have. At most -agencies they would have taken your money and given you hope. But we -don't do that here--it isn't our way. Good morning!" - -"Then you think I have no chance----" - -"I'm sure of it--through us, at least. Good morning!" - -Joyce would have made another effort, but the old gentleman had -already turned on his heel, and feigned to be busy with some letters -on a desk before him, so Walter turned round too, and silently left -the registry-office. - -Silently, and with an aching heart. The old clerk had said but little, -but Walter felt that his dictum was correct, and that all hopes of -getting a situation as a tutor were at an end. Oh, if his father had -only left him money enough to go to college, he would have had a -future before him which---- But then, Marian? He would never have -known that pure, faithful, earnest love, failing which, life in its -brightest and best form would have been dull and distasteful to him. -He had that love still, thank Heaven, and in that thought there were -the elements of hope, and the promptings to bestir himself yet once -more in his hard, self-appointed task of bread-winning. - -Money running very short, and time running rapidly on. Not the -shortest step in advance since he had first set foot in London, and -the bottom of his purse growing painfully visible. He had taken to -frequenting a small coffee-house in the neighbourhood of Covent -Garden, where, as he munched the roll and drank the tea which now too -often served him as a dinner, he could read the newspapers, and scan -the advertisements to see if there were anything likely to suit him -among the myriad columns. It was a quiet and secluded little place, -where but few strangers entered; he saw the same faces night after -night, as he noticed--and where he could have his letters addressed to -him under his initials, which was a great comfort, as he had noticed -lately that his landlady in his riverside lodging-house had demurred -to the receipt of so much initialed correspondence, ascribing it, as -Walter afterwards learned from the "slavey," or maid-of-all-work, -either to "castin' 'orryscopes, tellin' charickters by 'andwritin', or -rejen'rative bolsum for the 'air!"--things utterly at variance with -the respectability of her establishment. - -A quiet, secluded little place, sand-floored and spittoon-decorated, -with a cosy clock, and a cosy red-faced fire, singing with steaming -kettles, and cooking chops, and frizzling bacon, with a sleepy cat, a -pet of the customers, dozing before the hearth, and taking occasional -quarter-of-an-hour turns round the room, to be back-rubbed and -whisker-scratched, and tit-bit fed, with tea and coffee and cocoa, in -thick blue china half-pint mugs, and with bacon in which the edge was -by no means to be cut off and thrown away, but was thick, and crisp, -and delicious as the rest of it, on willow-pattern plates, with little -yellow pats of country butter, looking as if the cow whose impressed -form they bore had only fed upon buttercups, as different from the -ordinary petrified cold cream which in London passes current for -butter as chalk from cheese. "Bliffkins's"--the house was supposed to -have been leased to Bliffkins as the Elephant, and appeared under that -title in the Directories; but no one knew it but as Bliffkins's--was a -Somersetshire house, and kept a neat placard framed and glazed in its -front window to the effect that the _Somerset County Gazette_ was -taken in. So that among the thin, pale London folk who "used" the -house you occasionally came upon stalwart giants, big-chested, -horny-handed, deep-voiced, with z's sticking out all over their -pronunciation, jolly Zummerzetshire men, who brought Bliffkins the -latest gossip from his old native place of Bruton and its -neighbourhood, and who, during their stay--and notably at cattle-show -period--were kings of the house. At ordinary times, however, the -frequenters of the house never varied--indeed, it was understood that -Bliffkins's was a "connection," and did not in the least depend upon -chance custom. Certain people sat in certain places, ordered certain -refreshment, and went away at certain hours, never varying in the -slightest particular. Mr. Byrne, a wizened old man, who invariably -bore on his coat and on his hair traces of fur and fluff and wool, who -was known to be a bird-stuffer by trade, and an extreme Radical in -politics, and who was reputed to be the writer of some of those -spirit-stirring letters in the weekly press signed "Lucius Junius -Brutus" and "Scrutator," sat in the right-hand corner box nearest the -door, where he was out of the draught, and had the readiest chance of -pouncing upon the boy who brought in the evening papers, and securing -them before his rival, Mr. Wickwar, could effect a seizure. Mr. -Wickwar, who was a retired tailor, and had plenty of means, the sole -bane of his life being the danger to the Constitution from the -recklessly advanced feeling of the times, sat at the other end of the -room, being gouty and immobile, contented himself with glaring at his -democratic enemy, and occasionally withering him with choice extracts -from the _Magna Charta_ weekly journal. The box between them was -usually devoted of an evening to Messrs. O'Shane and Begson, gentlemen -attached to the press, capital company, full of anecdote and repartee, -though liable to be suddenly called away in the exigence of their -literary pursuits. The top of the policeman's helmet or the flat cap -of the fireman on duty just protruded through the swing-door in this -direction acted as tocsins to these indefatigable public servants, cut -them off in the midst of a story, and sent them flying on the back of -an engine, or at the tail of a crowd, to witness scenes which, -portrayed by their graphic pencils, afforded an additional relish to -the morning muffin at thousands of respectable breakfast-tables. -Between these gentlemen and a Mr. Shimmer, a youngish man, with bright -eyes, hectic colour, and a general sense of nervous irritation, there -was a certain spirit of _camaraderie_ which the other frequenters of -Bliffkins's could not understand. Mr. Shimmer invariably sat alone, -and during his meal habitually buried himself in one of the choice -volumes of Bliffkins's library, consisting of old volumes of -Blackwood's, Bentley's, and Tait's magazines, from which he would -occasionally make extracts in a very small hand in a very small -note-book. It was probably from the fact of a printer's boy having -called at Bliffkins's with what was understood to be a "proof," that a -rumour arose and was received throughout the Bliffkins's connection -that Mr. Shimmer edited the _Times_ newspaper. Be that as it might, -there was no doubt, both from external circumstances and from the -undefined deference paid to him by the other gentlemen of the press, -that Mr. Shimmer was a literary man of position, and that Bliffkins -held him in respect, and, what was more practical for him, gave him -credit on that account. An ex-parish clerk, who took snuff and sleep -in alternate pinches; a potato salesmen in Covent Garden, who drank -coffee to keep himself awake, and who went briskly off to business -when the other customers dropped off wearily to bed; a "professional" -at an adjoining bowling-alley, who would have been a pleasant fellow -had it not been for his biceps, which got into his head and into his -mouth, and pervaded his conversation; and a seedsman, a terrific -republican, who named his innocent bulbs and hyacinths after the most -sanguinary heroes of the French revolution,--filled up the list of -Bliffkins's "regulars." - -Among these quiet people Walter Joyce took up his place night after -night, until he began to be looked upon as of and belonging to them. -They were intolerant of strangers at Bliffkins's, of strangers, that -is to say, who, tempted by the comforts of the place, renewed their -visits, and threatened to make them habitual. These were for the most -part received at about their third appearance, when they came in with -a pleasant smile and thought they had made an impression, with a -strong stare and a dead silence, under the influences of which they -ordered refreshment which they did not want, had to pay for, and went -away without eating, amid the contemptuous grins of the regulars. But -Walter Joyce was so quiet and unobtrusive, so evidently a gentleman -desirous of peace and shelter and refuge at a cheap-rate, that the -great heart of Bliffkins's softened to him at once; they themselves -had known the feelings under which he sought the asylum of that -Long-Acre Patmos, and they respected him. No one spoke to him, there -was no acknowledgment of his presence among them; they knew well -enough that any such manifestation would have been out of place; but -when, after finishing his very simple evening meal, he would take a -few sheets of paper from his pocket, draw to him the _Times_ -supplement, and, constantly referring to it, commence writing a series -of letters, they knew what all that portended, and all of them, -including old Wickwar, the ex-tailor and great Conservative, silently -wished him Godspeed. - -Ah, those letters, dated from Bliffkins's coffee-house, and written in -Walter Joyce's roundest hand, in reply to the hundred of chances which -each day's newspaper-sheet offered to every enterprising bread-seeker, -chances so promising at the first glance, so barren and so full of -rottenness when they came to be tested! Clerkships? clerkships in -galore! legal, mercantile, general clerks were wanted everywhere, only -apply to A.B. or Y.Z., and take them! But when A. B. or Y. Z. replied, -Walter Joyce found that the legal clerks must write the regular -engrossing hand, must sweep out the office ready for the other clerks -by nine a.m., and must remain there occasionally till nine p.m., with -a little outdoor work in the service of writs and notices of -ejectment. The duties required of the mercantile clerk were but little -better, and those of the general clerks were worst of all, while -throughout a net income of eighteen shillings a week appeared to be -the average remuneration. "A secretary wanted?" certainly, four -secretaries wanted nearly every day, to public companies which were -about to bring forth an article in universal demand, but of which the -supply had hitherto been limited, and which could not fail to meet -with an enormous success and return a large dividend. In all cases the -secretary must be a man of education and of gentlemanly manners, so -said the advertisements; but the reply to Walter Joyce's application -said in addition that he must be able to advance the sum of three -hundred pounds, to be invested in the shares of the company, which -would bear interest at the rate of twenty-five per cent, per annum. -The Press? through the medium of their London fraternity the -provincial press was clamorous for educated men who could write -leading articles, general articles, and reviews; but on inquiry the -press required the same educated men to be able to combine shorthand -reporting with editorial writing, and in many cases suggested the -advisability of the editorial writer being able to set up his own -leaders in type at case. The literary institutions throughout the -country were languishing for lecturers; but when Walter Joyce wrote to -them, offering them a choice of certain subjects which he had studied, -and on which he thought himself competent of conveying real -information, he received answers from the secretaries, that only men -of name were paid by the institutions, but that the committee would be -happy to set apart a night for him if he chose to lecture gratis, or -that if he felt inclined to address the inhabitants of Knuckleborough -on his own account, the charge for the great hall was three pounds, -for the smaller hall thirty shillings a night, in both cases exclusive -of gas, while the secretary, who kept the principal stationer's shop -and library in the town, would be happy to become his agent, and sell -his tickets at the usual charge of ten per cent. Four pounds a week, -guaranteed! Not a bad income for a penniless man! to be earned, too, -in the discharge of a light and gentlemanly occupation, to be acquired -by the outlay of three shillings' worth of postage stamps. Walter -Joyce sent the postage stamps, and received in return a lithographic -circular, vary dirty about the folded edges, instructing him in the -easiest method of modelling wax flowers! - -That was the final straw. On the receipt of that letter, or rather on -the reading of it--he had taken it from the stately old looking-glass -over the fireplace to the box where of late he usually sat--Walter -Joyce gave a deep groan, and buried his face in his hands. A minute -after he felt his hair slightly touched, and looking up, saw old Jack -Byrne bending over him. - -"What ails ye, lad?" asked the old man tenderly. - -"Misery--despair--starvation!" - -"I thought so!" said the old man calmly. Then taking a small battered -flask from his breast and emptying its contents into a clean cup -before him--"Here, drink this, and come outside. We can't talk here!" - -Walter swallowed the contents of the cup mechanically, and followed -his new friend into the street. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -A NEW FRIEND. - - -When they stood in the street, with the fresh night-wind blowing upon -them, the old man stopped, and, peering anxiously into his companion's -face, said abruptly-- - -"Better?" - -"Much better, thank you; quite well, in fact. There's no occasion for -me to trouble you any more; I----" - -"What? All gaff, eh? Old Jack Byrne sold, eh? Swallowed his brandy, -and want to cut--is that the caper?" - -"I beg your pardon, I don't quite clearly understand you, I'm sorry to -say"--for Walter knew by the tone of his voice that the old man was -annoyed--"I'm very weak and rather stupid--I mean to say, in--in the -ways and the talk of London--and I don't clearly follow what you said -to me just now; only you were so kind to me at first, that----" - -"Provinces!" muttered the old man to himself. "Just like me; treating -him to my pavement patter, and thinking he understood it! All right, I -think, as far as one can judge, though God knows that's often wrong -enough!" Then, aloud, "Kind! nonsense! I'm an odd old skittle, and -talk an odd language; but I've seen the ups and downs of life, my lad, -and can give you good advice if I can't give anything else. Have you -anything to do to-night? Nothing? Sure I'm not keeping you from the -Opera, or any swell party in Park Lane? No! Then come home with me and -have a bit o' pickled salmon and a glass of cold gin-and-water, and -let's talk matters out." - -Before he had concluded his sentence, the old man had slipped Joyce's -arm through his own, and was making off at a great rate, and also with -an extraordinary shamble, in which his shoulder appeared to act as a -kind of cutwater, while his legs followed considerably in the rear. -Walter held on to him as best he could, and in this fashion they made -their way through the back streets, across St. Martin's Lane, and so -into Leicester Square. Then, as they arrived in front of a brilliantly -lighted establishment, at the door of which cabs laden with -fashionably dressed men and gaudily dressed women were continually -disgorging their loads, while a never-ceasing stream of pedestrians -poured in from the street, Jack Byrne came to a sudden halt, and said -to his companion---- - -"Now I'm going to enjoy myself!" - -Walter Joyce had noticed the style of people pouring in through the -turnstiles and paying their admission money at the brilliantly lit -boxes; and as he heard these words he unconsciously drew back. You -see, he was but a country-bred young man, and had not yet been -initiated into the classical enjoyments of London life. Jack Byrne -felt the tug at his arm, and looked at him curiously. - -"What is it?" said he. "You thought I was going in there? I? Oh, my -dear young friend, you'll have to learn a great deal yet; but you're -on the suspicious lay, and that's a chalk to you! You thought I'd -hocussed the brandy I gave you at Bliffkins's; you thought I was going -to take you into this devil's crib, did you? Not I, my dear boy; I'd -as soon take you in as myself, and that's saying a good deal. No; I -told you I was going to enjoy myself--so I am. My enjoyment is in -watching that door, and marking those who go through it, not in -speculating on what's going on inside, but in waiting for the end, my -young friend--in waiting for the end! Oh yes, jump out of your -brougham, my Lord Tomnoddy; but don't split your lavender gloves in -attempting to close the door behind you--the cad will do that, of -course! Beautiful linen, white as snow, and hair all stuck close to -his head, look. But mark his forehead--what's your name--Joyce? Mark -his forehead, Joyce; see how it slopes straight away back. Look at -that noble space between his nose and his upper lip--the ape type, my -friend--the ape type! That's one of your hereditary rulers, Joyce, my -boy! That fellow sits and votes for you and me, bless him! He's gone -in now to improve his mind with the literature of comic songs, and the -legs of the ballet, and the fascinations of painted Jezebels, and to -clear his brain with drinks of turpentine and logwood shavings! And -that's one of our hereditary legislators! Oh, Lord, how much -longer--how much longer!" - -The policeman on duty at the door, whose mission it was to keep the -pathway clear, now sallied forth from the portico and promenaded in -the little crowd, gently pushing his way amongst them with a -monotonous cry of "Move on, there, please--move on!" Joyce noticed -that his companion regarded this policeman with a half-defiant, -half-pitying air, and the old man said to him, as they resumed their -walk-- - -"That's another of the effects of our blessed civilization! That -gawk in blucher boots and a felt helmet--that machine in a shoddy -great-coat, who can scarcely tell B from a bull's foot, and yet -has the power to tell you and me and other men, who pay for the -paving-rate--ay, and for the support of such scum as he is, for the -matter of that--to move on! Suppose you think I'm a rum un, eh?" said -Mr. Byrne, suddenly changing his voice of disgust into a bantering -tone. "Not seen many like me before; don't want to see any more, -perhaps?" - -"I don't say that," said Joyce, with a half smile; "but I confess the -sentiments are new to me, and----" - -"Brought up in the country; my lord or the squire, eh? So pleased to -receive notice coming out of church, 'plucks the slavish hat from the -villager's head,' and all that! Sorry I've not a manorial hall to ask -you into, but such as it is you're welcome. Hold hard, here." - -The old man stopped before a private door in a small street of very -small shops running between Leicester Square and the Haymarket, took -out a key, and stood back for his companion to pass before him into a -dark and narrow passage. When the door was closed behind him, Mr. -Byrne struck a light, and commenced making his way up the narrow -staircase. Joyce followed him flight after flight, and past landing -after landing, until at length the top story was reached. Then Mr. -Byrne took out another key, and, unlocking the door immediately in -front of him, entered the room and bade his companion follow him. - -Walter Joyce found himself in a long low room, with a truckle bed in -one corner, bookshelves ranged round three sides, and in the middle, -over which the curtains were now drawn, a large square table, with an -array of knives and scissors upon it, a heap of wool in one corner, -and an open case of needles of various kinds, polished bright and -shining. On one end of the mantelpiece stood a glass case containing a -short-horned white owl, stuffed, and looking wonderfully sagacious; on -the other a cock, with full crop and beady eye, and open bill, with -one leg advanced, full of self-sufficiency and conceit. Over the -mantlepiece, in a long low case, was an admirably carried out bit of -Byrne's art, representing the death-struggles of a heron struck by a -hawk. Both birds were stuffed, of course, but the characteristics of -each had been excellently preserved; the delicate heron lay completely -at the mercy of his active little antagonist, whose "pounce" had -evidently just been made, and who with beak and talons was settling -his prey. - -While Joyce was looking round at these things, the old man had lit a -lamp suspended from the ceiling, and another standing on the square -work-table; had opened a cupboard, and from it had produced a black -bottle, two tumblers, and a decanter of water; had filled and lit a -mighty pipe, and had motioned his companion to make free with the -liquor and with the contents of an ancient-looking tobacco-jar, which -he pushed towards him. - -"Smoke, man!" said he, puffing out a thin line of vapour through -his almost closed lips, and fanning it away lazily with his -hand--"smoke!--that's one thing they can't keep from us, though they'd -like. My lord should puff at his havannah while the commonalty, the -plebs, the _profanum vulgus_, who are hated and driven away, should -'exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming weed!' Thank God we've altered all -that since poor John Philips's day; he'd get better change for his -Splendid Shilling now than ever he did in his time, eh? Talking Greek -to you, am I? or worse than Greek, for that you'd understand, I dare -say, and you'll never understand my old mutterings and quotations. You -can read Greek?" - -"Yes," Joyce said; "I am reckoned a tolerable Grecian." - -"Indeed!" said the old man, with a grin; "ah! no doubt you were an -honour to your college." - -"Unfortunately," said Walter, "I have never been to college." - -"Then your state is the more gracious! By George! I thought I'd picked -up with a sucking don, all trencher-cap, and second aorist, and -Conservative principles, Church and State, a big Bible with a sceptre -stretched across it, and a fear of the 'swart mechanics' bloody -thumbs' printed off on my lord's furniture, as provided by Messrs. -Jackson and Graham! You don't follow me, young fellow? Like enough, -like enough. I think myself I'm a little enigmatical when I get on my -hobby, and it requires a good steady stare of honest wonderment, such -as I see on your face now, to bring me up short. I'm brought up short -now, and can attend to more sublunary matters, such as yours. Tell me -about yourself." - -"What shall I tell you?" asked Joyce. "I can tell nothing beyond what -you already know, or can guess. I'm without friends, without work; -I've lost hope----" - -"No, no, my boy not lost, only mislaid it. We never lose hope so long -as we're good for anything! Sometimes, when I've been most depressed -and down, about the only thing in life that has any interest for me -now--and you've no idea what that is, have you, Joyce, eh?" - -"No, indeed; unless, perhaps, your children!" - -"Children! Thank God, I never had a wife or a child to give me a care. -No; the People's cause, my boy, the People's cause! That's what I live -for, and sometimes, as I've been saying, I've been downhearted about -that. I've seen the blood beating us down on the one side, and the -money beating us down on the other, and I've thought that it was -useless kicking against the pricks, and that we had better cave in and -give up!" - -"But you say you never lost hope?" - -"Never, entirely. When I've been at my lowest ebb, when I've come home -here with the blood in my veins tingling from aristocratic insult, and -with worse than that, contempt for my own fellow working-men surging -up in my heart, I've looked up at that case there over the -mantelshelf, and my pluck's revived. That's a fine bit of work, that -is, done by an old pupil of mine, who worked his soul out in the -People's cause in '48, and died in a deep decline soon after. But what -a fancy the lad had! Look at that heron! Is not it for all the world -like one of your long, limp, yaw-yaw, nothing-knowing, nothing-doing -young swells? Don't you read 'used-up' in his delicate plumage, -drooping wings, lack-lustre eye? And remark how the jolly little hawk -has got him! No breed about him; keen of sight, swift of wing, active -with beak and talon--that's all he can boast of; but he's got the -swell in his grip, mind you! And he's only a prototype of what's to -come!" - -The old man rose as he spoke, and taking the lamp from the table, -raised it towards the glass case. As he set it down again he looked -earnestly at Joyce, and said-- - -"You think I'm off my head, perhaps--and I'm not sure that I'm not -when I get upon this topic--and you're thinking that at the first -convenient opportunity you'll slip away, with a 'Thank ye!' and leave -the old lunatic to his democratic ravings? But, like many other -lunatics, I'm only mad on one subject, and when that isn't mentioned I -can converse tolerably rationally, can perhaps even be of some use in -advising one friendless and destitute. And you, you say, are both." - -"I am, indeed; but I scarcely think you can help me, Mr. Byrne, though -I don't for an instant doubt your friendship or your wish to be of -service. But it happens that the only people from whom I can hope to -get anything in the way of employment, employment that brings money, -belong to that class against which you have such violent antipathies, -the--the 'swells,' as you call them." - -"My dear young fellow, you mistake me. If you do as I should like you, -as an honest Englishman with a freeman's birthright, to do; if you do -as I myself--old Jack Byrne, one of the prisoners of '48; 'Bitter -Byrne,' as they call me at the club--if you do as I do, you'll hate -the swells with all your heart, but you'll use 'em. When I was a young -man, young and foolish, blind and headstrong, as all young men are, I -wouldn't take off my cap to a swell, wouldn't take a swell's orders, -wouldn't touch a swell's money! Lord bless you, I saw the folly of -that years ago! I should have been starved long since if I hadn't. -My business is bird-stuffing, as you may have heard or guessed; and -where should I have been if I'd had to live upon all the orders for -bird-stuffing I got from the labouring classes? They can't stuff -themselves enough, let alone their birds! The swells want owls, and -hawks, and pheasants, and what not, stuffed with outspread wings for -fire-screens, but the poor people want the fire itself, and want it so -badly that they never holloa for screens, and wouldn't use 'em if they -had 'em. No, no; hate the swells, my boy, but use 'em. What have you -been?" - -"An usher in a school." - -"Of course! I guessed it would be some of those delightful occupations -for which the supply is unlimited and the demand nothing, but I -scarcely thought it could be so bad as that! Usher in a school! hewer -in a coal-pit, stone-breaker on a country road, horse in a mill, -anything better than that!" - -"What could I do?" - -"What could you do? Sell your books, pawn your watch, take a steerage -passage and go out to Australia. Black boots, tend sheep, be cad to an -omnibus, or shopwalker to a store out there; every one of 'em better -than dragging on in the conventional torture of this played-out -staggering old country! That's gassy a little, you'll think, and so it -is; but I mean better than that. I've long-standing and intimate -connections with the Zoological Acclimatisation Society in Melbourne, -and if you can pay your passage out, I'll guarantee that, in the -introductions I give you, they'll find you something to do. If you -_can't_ find the money for your passage out, perhaps it can be found -for you!" - -Not since James Ashurst's death, not for some weeks before that event, -indeed, when the stricken man had taken leave of his old pupil and -friend, had Walter Joyce heard the words of friendship and kindness -from any man. Perhaps, a little unmanned by the disappointment and -humiliation he had undergone since his arrival in London, he was a -little unmanned at this speech from his newly found friend; at all -events, the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice was husky as he -replied-- - -"I ought to be very much obliged to you, and indeed, indeed I am; but -I fear you'll think me an ungrateful cub when I tell you that I can't -possibly go away from England. Possibly is a strong word, but I mean, -that I can't think of it until I've exhausted every means, every -chance of obtaining the barest livelihood here!" - -The old man eyed him from under his bent brows earnestly for a moment, -and then said abruptly, "Ties, eh? father?" - -"No!" said Joyce, with a half blush--very young, you see, and country -bred--"as both my mother and father are dead, but--but there is----" - -"Oh, Lord!" grunted Mr. Byrne, "of course there is; there always is in -such cases! Blind old bat I was not to see it at first! Ah, she was -left lamenting, and all the rest of it; quite knocks the Australian -idea on the head? Now let me think what can be done for you here! -There's Buncombe and Co., the publishers, want a smart young man, -smart and cheap they said in their letter, to contribute to their new -Encyclopaedia, the Naturalist. That'll be one job for you, though it -won't be much." - -"But, Mr. Byrne," said Joyce, "I have no knowledge, or very little, of -natural history. Certainly not enough to----" - -"Not too much to prevent your being too proud to take a hint or two -from Goldsmith's _Animated Nature_, my boy, as he took several from -those who preceded him. That, and a German book or two you'll find on -the shelves--you understand German? that's right--will help you to all -the knowledge Buncombe will require of you, or all they ought to -expect, for the matter of that, at ten-and-six the column. You can -come here of a morning--you won't interfere with me--and grind away -until dark, when we'll have a walk and a talk; you shall tell me all -about yourself, and we'll see what more can be done, and then we'll -have some food at Bliffkins's and learn all that's going on!" - -"I don't know how to thank you," commenced Joyce. - -"Then don't attempt to learn!" said the old man. "Does it suit you, as -a beginning only, mind! do you agree to try it--we shall do better -things yet, I hope; but will you try it?" - -"I will indeed! If you only knew----" - -"I do: good night! I got up at daybreak, and ought to have been in bed -long since. Good night!" - -Not since he had been in London, had Walter Joyce been so light of -heart as when he closed Mr. Byrne's door behind him. Something to do -at last! He felt inclined to cry out for joy; he longed for some one -to whom he could impart his good fortune. - -His good fortune! As he sat upon his wretched bed in his tiny lodging, -luxurious words rang in his ears. "And the chance of achieving fame -and fortune, keep that in the foreground!" Fame and fortune! And he -had been overjoyed because he had obtained a chance of earning a few -shillings as a bookseller's hack, a chance for which he was indebted -to a handicraftsman. But a poor first step towards fame and fortune, -Marian would think! He understood how utter had been her inexperience -and his own; he had learned the wide distance between the fulfilment -of such hopes as theirs, and the best of the bare possibilities which -the future held for them, and the pain which this knowledge brought -him, more for the sake of his own share in it, was doubly keen for -hers. It was very hard for Walter Joyce to have to suffer the terrible -disappointment and disenchantment of experience; but it was far harder -for him to have to cause her to share them. Marian would indeed think -it a "poor first step." He little knew how much more decisive a one -she was about to take herself. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -FLITTING. - - -Marian Ashurst dearly loved her home. To her concentrative and -self-contained nature local associations were peculiarly precious; the -place in which she had lived the life so essentially her own was very -dear. The shabby old house, though she perfectly understood its -shabbiness, and would have prized the power of renovating and adorning -it as thoroughly as any _petite maîtresse_ would have prized the power -of adorning her _bijou_ residence with all the prettiness of modern -upholstery, was a shrine in her eyes. Base and unbeautiful, but -sacred, the place in which her father had dutifully and patiently -passed his laborious life--had it not been wasted? the proud -discontented spirit asked itself many a time, but found no voice to -answer "no." - -She had often pictured to her fancy what the house might have been -made, if there had but been money to make it anything with, money to -do anything with; if only they had not always been so helpless, so -burdened with the especially painful load of genteel poverty. She had -exercised her womanly ingenuity, put forth her womanly tastes, so far -as she could, and the house was better than might have been expected -under all the circumstances; but ingenuity and taste, which double the -effect of money when united to that useful agency, are not of much -avail without it, and will not supply curtains and carpet, paint, -varnishing, and general upholstery. There was not a superfluous -ornament, and there were many in the drawing-rooms at Woolgreaves very -offensive to her instinctively correct taste,--whose price would not -have materially altered the aspect of Marian Ashurst's home, as she -had recognised with much secret bitterness of spirit, on her first -visit to the Creswells. She would have made the old house pretty and -pleasant, if she could, especially while he lived, to whom its -prettiness and pleasantness might have brought refreshment of spirit, -and a little cheerfulness in the surroundings of his toilsome life; -but she loved it, notwithstanding its dulness and its frigid -shabbiness, and the prospect of being obliged to leave it gave her -exquisite pain. Marian was surprised when she discovered that her -feelings on this point were keener than those of her mother. She had -anticipated, with shrinking and reluctance of whose intensity she felt -ashamed, the difficulty she should experience when that last worst -necessity must arise, when her mother must leave the home of so many -years, and the scene of her tranquil happiness. Mrs. Ashurst had been -a very happy woman, notwithstanding her delicate health, and the -difficulties it had brought upon the little household. In the first -place, she was naturally of a placid temperament. In the second, her -husband told her as little as possible of the constantly pressing, -hopelessly inextricable trouble of his life. And lastly, Mrs. -Ashurst's inexperience prevented her realising danger in the future -from any source except that one whence it had actually come, fallen in -its fullest, fatalmost might--the sickness and death of her husband. - -When that tremendous blow fell upon her, it stunned the widow. She -could not grieve, she could not care about anything else. She was not -a woman of an imaginative turn of mind; feeling had always been -powerful and deep in her; but fancy had ever been active, so that when -the one awful and overwhelming fact existed, it was quite enough for -her, it swamped everything else, it needed not to bring up any -reinforcements to her discomfiture. She was ready to go anywhere with -Marian, to do anything which Marian advised or directed. The old house -was to be left, a new home was to be sought for. A stranger was coming -to be the master where her husband's firm but gentle rule had made -itself loved, respected, and obeyed for so long; a stranger was to sit -in her husband's seat, and move about the house where his step and his -voice were heard no more, listened for no longer, not even now, in the -first confused moments of waking after the blessed oblivion of sleep. - -And in that awful fact all was included. Poor Mrs. Ashurst cared -little for the linen and the china now. Whether they should be packed -up and removed to the humble lodgings which were to be the next home -of herself and her daughter, or whether Mr. Ashurst's successor should -be asked to take them at a valuation, were points which she left to -Marian's decision. She had not any interest in anything of the kind -now. It was time that Marian's mind should be made up on these and -other matters; and the girl, notwithstanding her premature gravity and -her habit of decision, found her task difficult in fact and sentiment. -Her mother was painfully quiescent, hopelessly resigned. In every word -and look she expressed plainly that life had come to a standstill for -her, that she could no longer feel any interest or take any active -part in its conduct; and thus she depressed Marian very much, who had -her own sense of impending disappointment and imperative effort, in -addition to their common sorrow, to struggle against. - -Mrs. Ashurst and her daughter had seen a good deal of the family at -Woolgreaves since the day on which Marian's cherished belief in the -value and delight of wealth had been strengthened by that visit to the -splendid dwelling of her father's old friend. The young ladies had -quite "taken to" Mrs. Ashurst, and Mrs. Ashurst had almost "taken to" -them. They came into Helmingham frequently, and never without bringing -welcome contributions from the large and lavishly kept gardens at -Woolgreaves. They tried, in many girlish and unskilful ways, to be -intimate with Marian; but they felt they did not succeed, and only -their perception of their uncle's wishes prevented their giving up the -effort. Marian was very civil, very much obliged for their kindness -and attention; but uncordial, "un-getatable," Maude Creswell aptly -described it. - -The condition of Mr. Ashurst's affairs had not proved to be quite so -deplorable as had been supposed. There was a small insurance on his -life; there were a few trifling sums due to him, which the debtors -made haste to pay, owing, indeed, to the immediate application made to -them by Mr. Creswell, who interfered as actively as unostentatiously -on behalf of the bereaved woman; altogether a little sum remained, -which would keep them above want, or the almost equally painful effort -of immediate exertion to earn their own living, _with management_. -Yes, that was the qualification which Marian understood thoroughly, -understood to mean daily and hourly self-denial, watchfulness, and -calculation, and more and worse than that--the termination on her part -of the hope of preventing her mother's missing the material comforts -which had been procured and preserved for her by a struggle whose -weariness she had never been permitted to comprehend. - -The old house had been shabby and poor, but it had been comfortable. -It had given them space and cleanliness, and there was no vulgarity in -its meagreness. But the only order of lodgings to which her mother and -she could venture to aspire was that which invariably combines the -absence of space and of cleanliness with the presence of tawdriness -and discomfort. And this must last until Walter should be able to -rescue them from it. She could not suffice to that rescue herself, but -he would. He must succeed! Had he not every quality, every facility, -and the strongest of motives? She felt this--that, in her case, the -strongest motive would have been the desire for success, _per se_; but -in his the strongest was his love of her. She recognised this, she -knew this, she admired it in an odd abstract kind of way; when her -heart was sufficiently disengaged from pressing care to find a moment -for any kind of joy, she rejoiced in it; but she knew she could not -imitate it--that was not in her. She had not much experience of -herself yet, and the process of self-analysis was not habitual to her; -but she felt instinctively that the more selfish instincts of love -were hers, its noble influences, its profounder motives her lover's. - -It was, then, to him she had to look, in him she had to trust, for the -rescue that was to come in time. In how much time? in how little? Ah, -there was the ever-present, ever-pressing question, and Marian brought -to its perpetual repetition all the importance, all the unreasonable -measurement of time, all the ignorance of its exceeding brevity and -insignificance inseparable from her youth. - -She had nearly completed the preparations for departure from the old -home; the few possessions left her and her mother were ready for -removal; a lodging in the village had been engaged, and the last few -days were dragging themselves heavily over the heads of Mrs. Ashurst -and Marian, when Mr. Creswell, having returned to Woolgreaves after a -short absence, came to see them. - -Mrs. Ashurst was walking in the neglected garden, and had reached the -far end of the little extent when Mr. Creswell arrived at the open -door of the house. A woman-servant, stolid and sturdy, was passing -through the red-tiled square hall. - -"Is Mrs. Ashurst in?" asked the visitor. "Mrs. Ashurst is in the -garden, I see--don't disturb her." - -Marian, who had heard the voice, answered Mr. Creswell's question by -appearing on the threshold of the room which had been her father's -study, and which, since his death, her mother and she had made their -sitting-room. She looked weary; the too bright colour which fatigue -brings to some faces was on hers, and her eyelids were red and heavy; -her black dress, which had the limp, ungraceful, lustreless look of -mourning attire too long unrenewed, hung on her fine upright figure -after a fashion which told how little the girl cared how she looked; -and the hand she first held out to Mr. Creswell, and then drew back -with a faint smile, was covered with dust. - -"I can't shake hands," she said; "I have been tying up the last -bundles of books and papers, and my hands are disgraceful. Come in -here, Mr. Creswell; I believe there is _one_ unoccupied chair." - -He followed her into the study, and took the seat she pointed out, -while she placed herself on a pile of folios which lay on the floor -in front of the low wide window. Marian laid her arm upon the -window-sill, and leaned her head back against one of the scanty frayed -curtains. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a slight shudder passed -over her. - -"You are very tired, Miss Ashurst, quite worn out," said Mr. Creswell; -"you have been doing too much--packing all those books, I suppose." - -"Yes," said Marian, "I looked to that myself, and, indeed, there was -nobody else to do it. But it is tiring work, and dirty,"--she struck -her hands together, and shook her dress, so that a shower of dust fell -from it--"and sad work besides. You know, Mr. Creswell"--here her face -softened suddenly, and her voice fell--"how much my father loved his -books. It is not easy to say good-bye to them; it is like a faint -echo, strong enough to pain one, though, of the good-bye to himself." - -"But why are you obliged to say good-bye to them?" asked Mr. Creswell, -with genuine anxiety and compassion. - -"What could we do with them?" said Marian; "there's no place to keep -them. We must have taken another room specially for them if we took -them to our lodgings, and there is no one to buy them here, so we are -going to send them to London to be sold. I suppose they will bring a -very small sum indeed--nothing, perhaps, when the expenses are paid. -But it is our only means of disposing of them; so I have been dusting -and sorting and arranging them all day, and I am tired and dusty and -sick--sick at heart." - -Marian leaned her head on the arm which lay on the window-sill, and -looked very forlorn. She also looked very pretty, and Mr. Creswell -thought so. This softened mood, so unusual to her, became her, and the -little touch of confidence in her manner, equally unusual, flattered -him. He felt an odd sort of difficulty in speaking to her--to this -young girl, his old friend's orphan child, one to whom he intended so -kindly, towards whom his position was so entirely one of patronage, -not in any offensive sense, of course, but still of patronage. - -"I--I never thought of this," he said hesitatingly; "I ought to have -remembered it, of course; no doubt the books must be a difficulty to -you--a difficulty to keep and a harder one to part with. But bless me, -my dear Miss Ashurst, you say there is no one here to buy them--you -did not remember me? Why did you not remember me? Of course I will buy -them. I shall be only too delighted to buy them, to have the books my -good friend loved so much--of course I shall." - -"I had seen your library at Woolgreaves," said Marian, replying to Mr. -Creswell's first impetuous question, "and I could not suppose you -wanted more books, or such shabby ones as these." - -"You judge of books like a lady, then, though you were your -father's companion as well as his pet," said Mr. Creswell, smiling. -"Those shabby books are, many of them, much more valuable than my -well-dressed shelf-fillers. And even if they were not, I should prize -them for the same reason that you do, and almost as much--yes, Miss -Ashurst, almost as much. Men are awkward about saying such things, but -I may tell his daughter that but for James Ashurst I never should have -known the value of books--in other than a commercial sense, I mean." - -"I don't know what they are worth," said Marian, "but if you will find -out, and buy them, my mother and I will be very thankful. I know it -will be a great relief to her to think of them at Woolgreaves, and all -together. She has fretted more about my father's books being -dispersed, and going into the hands of strangers, than about any other -secondary cause of sorrow. The other things she takes quietly enough." - -The widow could be seen from the window by them both as she pursued -her monotonous walk in the garden, with her head bowed down and her -figure so expressive of feebleness. - -"Does she?" said Mr. Creswell. "I am very glad to hear that. -Then"--and here Mr. Creswell gave a little sigh of relief--"we will -look upon the matter of the books as arranged, and to-morrow I will -send for them. Give yourself no further trouble about them. Fletcher -shall settle it all." - -"You will have them valued?" Marian asked with business-like -seriousness. - -"Certainly," returned Mr. Creswell. "And now tell me what your plans -are, and where these lodgings are to which you alluded just now. Maude -and Gertrude have not seen you, they tell me, since you took them?" - -"No," said Marian, without the least tone of regret in her voice; "we -have not met since your visit to Manchester. Miss Creswell's cold has -kept her at home, and I have been much too busy to get so far as -Woolgreaves." - -"Your mother has seen my nieces?" - -"Yes; Miss Gertrude Creswell called, and took her for a drive, and she -remained to lunch at Woolgreaves. But that was one day when I was -lodging-hunting--nothing had then been settled." - -"The girls are very fond of Mrs. Ashurst." - -"They are very kind," said Marian absently. The Misses Creswell were -absolutely uninteresting to her, and as yet Marian Ashurst had never -pretended to entertain a feeling she did not experience. The threshold -of that particular school of life in which the art of feigning is -learned lay very near her feet now, but they had not yet crossed it. - -Marian and Mr. Creswell remained a long time together before Mrs. -Ashurst came in. The girl spoke to the old gentleman with more freedom -and with more feeling than on any previous occasion of their meeting; -and Mr. Creswell began to think how interesting she was, in comparison -with Maude and Gertrude, for instance; how much sense she had, how -little frivolity. How very good-looking she was also; he had no idea -she ever would have been so handsome--yes, positively handsome--he -used the word in his thoughts--she certainly had not possessed -anything like it when he had seen her formerly--a dark, prim, -old-fashioned kind of girl, going about her father's study with an air -of quiet appreciative sharpness and shrewdness which he did not -altogether like. But she really had become quite handsome then, in her -poor dress, with her grieved, tired face, her hair carelessly pushed -off it any way, and her hands rough and soiled; she had made him -recognise and feel that she had the gift of beauty also. - -Mr. Creswell thought about this when he had taken leave of Mrs. -Ashurst and Marian, having secured their promise to come to -Woolgreaves on the day but one after, when he hoped Marian would -assist him in assigning places to the books, which she felt almost -reconciled to part with under these new conditions. He thought about -them a good deal, and tried to make out, among the dregs of his -memory, who it was who had said within his hearing, when Marian was a -child, "Yes, she's a smart little girl, sure enough, and a dead hand -at a bargain." - -Marian Ashurst thought about Mr. Creswell after he left her and her -mother. Mrs. Ashurst was very much relieved and gratified by his -kindness about the books, as was Marian also. But the mother and -daughter regarded the incident from different points of view. Mrs. -Ashurst dwelt on the kindness of heart which dictated the purchase of -the dead friend's books as at once a tribute to the old friendship and -a true and delicate kindness to the survivors. Marian saw all that, -but she dwelt rather on the felicitous condition which rendered it -easy to indulge such impulses. Here was another instance, and in her -favour, of the value of money. - -"It has made more than one difference to me," she thought that night, -when she was alone, and looked round the dismantled study; "it has -made me like old Mr. Creswell, and hitherto I have only envied him." - - -"Do be persuaded, dear Mrs. Ashurst," said Maude Creswell, in a tone -of sincere and earnest entreaty. She had made her appearance at the -widow's house early on the day which succeeded her uncle's visit, and -had presented, in her own and in her sister's name, as well as in that -of Mr. Creswell, a petition, which she was now backing up with much -energy. "Do come and stay with us. We are not going to have any -company; there shall be nothing that you can possibly dislike. And -Gerty and I will not tease you or Miss Ashurst; and you shall not be -worried by Tom or anything. _Do_ come, dear, dear Mrs. Ashurst; never -mind the nasty lodgings; they can go on getting properly aired, and -cleaned, and so on, until you are tired of Woolgreaves, and then you -can go to them at any time. But not from your own house, where you -have been so long, into that little place, in a street, too. Say you -will come, now do." - -Mrs. Ashurst was surprised and pleased. She recognised the girl's -frank affection for her; she knew the generous kindness of heart which -made her so eager to do her uncle's bidding, and secure to those -desolate women a long visit to the splendid home he had given his -nieces. Nothing but a base mean order of pride could have revolted -against the offer so made and so pressed. Mrs. Ashurst yielded, and -Maude Creswell returned to her uncle in high delight to announce that -she had been successful in the object of her embassy. - -"How delightful it will be to have the dear old lady here, Gerty!" -said Maude to her sister. "The more I see of her the better I like -her; and I mean to be so kind and attentive to her. I think Miss -Ashurst is too grave, and she always seems so busy and preoccupied: I -don't think she can rouse her mother's spirits much." - -"No, I think not," said Gertrude. "I like the old lady very much too; -but I don't quite know about Miss Ashurst; I think the more I see of -her, the less I seem to know her. You must not leave her altogether to -me, Maude. I wonder why one feels so strange with her? Heigh-ho!" said -the girl, with a comical look, and a shake of her pretty head, "I -suppose it's because she's so superior." - -On the following day, Mrs. Ashurst and Marian took leave of their old -home, and were conveyed in one of Mr. Creswell's carriages to -Woolgreaves. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -THE TENTH EARL. - - -Hetherington House stands in Beaufort Square, forming one side of that -confessedly aristocratic quarter. The house stands back in melancholy -"grounds" of dirty gravel, brown turf, and smutted trees, while the -dwarf wall which forms the side of the square, and is indeed a -sufficiently huge brick screen, fences off the commonalty, and -prevents them from ever catching so much as a glimpse of the paradise -within, save when the great gates are flung open for the entrance or -exit of vehicles, or when the porter, so gorgeous and yet so simple, -is sunning himself in the calm evening air at the small postern-door. -The Countess of Hetherington likes this brick screen, and looks upon -it as a necessary appanage of her rank. When visitors, having -exhausted every topic of conversation possible to their great minds--a -feat which is easily performed in the space of five minutes--and, -beginning to fear the immediate advent of brain-softening if not of -idiotcy, suddenly become possessed with a fresh idea after a -lengthened contemplation of the wall in front of them, and with an air -of desperation ask whether it does not make the house dull, Lady -Hetherington says that, on the contrary, it is the only thing that -renders the house habitable. She confesses that, during the time she -is compelled to be in London, the sight of hack cabs, and policemen on -their beat, and those kind of things, are not absolutely necessary to -her existence, and as Sir Charles Dumfunk insists on her rooms facing -the west, she is glad that the wall is there to act as a screen. Oh -yes, she is perfectly aware that Lord Letterkenney had the screen of -Purcell House pulled down and an open Italian façade erected in its -place, the picture of which was in the illustrated papers; but as Lady -Letterkenney until her marriage had lived in Ireland, and had probably -never seen anything human except priests and pigs, the sight of -civilised beings was doubtless an agreeable novelty to her. The same -circumstances did not exist in her, Lady Hetherington's, case, and she -decidedly liked the screen. - -The Earl likes the screen also, but he never says anything about it, -chiefly because no one over asks his opinion on any subject. He likes -it because it is his, the Earl of Hetherington's, and he likes looking -at it as he likes looking at the coronet on his plate, on his -carriage-panels, and his horses' harness, at his family history as set -forth by Burke and Debrett, and at the marginal illustrations of his -coat-of-arms as given in those charming volumes, at his genealogical -tree--a mysterious work of art which hangs in the library, looking -something like an enlarged "sampler" worked by a school-girl, and from -the contemplation of which he derives intense delight. It does not -take a great deal to fill Lord Hetherington's soul with rapture. Down -in Norfolk villages, in the neighbourhood of his ancestral home, and -far away in scattered cottages on the side of green Welsh mountains, -where the cross-tree rears its inopportune head in the midst of the -lovely landscape, and where smoke and coal-dust permeate the soft -delicious air, his lordship, as landlord and mine-holder, is spoken of -with bated breath by tenants and workmen, and regarded as one of the -hardest-headed, tightest-fisted men of business by stewards and -agents. They do not see much, scarcely anything, of him, they say, and -they don't need to, if he's to be judged by the letters he writes and -the orders he sends. To screw up the rents and to lengthen the hours -of labour was the purport of these letters, while their style was -modelled on that used by the Saxon Franklin to his hog-hind, curt, -overbearing, and offensive. Agents and stewards, recipients of these -missives, say bitter words about Lord Hetherington in private, and -tenants and workmen curse him secretly as they bow to his decree. To -them he is a haughty, selfish, grinding aristocrat, without a thought -for any one but himself; whereas in reality he is a chuckle-headed -nobleman, with an inordinate idea of his position certainly, but -kindly hearted, a slave to his wife, and with one great desire in -life, a desire to distinguish himself somehow, no matter how. - -He had tried politics. When a young man he had sat as Lord West for -his county, and the first Conservative ministry which came into office -after he had succeeded to his title, remembering the service which -Lord West had done them in roaring, hooting, and yar-yaring in the -House of Commons, repaid the obligation by appointing the newly -fledged Earl of Hetherington to be the head of one of the inferior -departments. Immensely delighted was his lordship at first; went down -to the office daily, to the intense astonishment of the departmental -private secretary, whose official labours had hitherto been confined -to writing about four letters a day, took upon himself to question -some of the suggestions which were made for his approval, carped at -the handwriting of the clerks, and for at least a week thought he had -at length found his proper place in the world, and had made an -impression. But it did not last. The permanent heads of the department -soon found him out, scratched through the external cuticle of pride -and pomposity, and discovered the true obstinate dullard underneath. -And then they humoured him, and led him by the nose as they had led -many a better man before him, and he subsided into a nonentity, and -then his party went out of office, and when they came in again they -declined to reappoint Lord Hetherington, though he clamoured ever so -loudly. - -Social science was the field in which his lordship next disported -himself, and prolix, pragmatical, and eccentric as are its professors -generally, he managed to excel them all. Lord Hetherington had his -theories on the utilisation of sewage and the treatment of criminals, -on strikes and trades unions--the first of which he thought should -be suppressed by the military, the second put down by Act of -Parliament--and on the proper position of women; on which subject be -certainly spoke with more than his usual spirit and fluency. But he -was a bore upon all; and at length the social-science audiences, so -tolerant of boredom, felt that they could stand him no longer, and -coughed him down gently but firmly when he attempted to address them. -Lord Hetherington then gave up social science in disgust, and let his -noble mind lie fallow for a few months, during which time he employed -himself in cutting his noble fingers with a turning-lathe which he -caused to be erected in his mansion, and which amused him very much: -until it suddenly occurred to him that the art of bookbinding was one -in which his taste and talent might find a vent. So the room in which -the now deserted turning-lathe stood was soon littered with scraps of -leather and floating fragments of gilt-leaf; and there his lordship -spent hours every day looking on at two men very hard at work in their -shirt-sleeves, and occasionally handing them the tools they asked for: -and thus he practised the art of book-binding. Every one said it was -an odd thing for a man to take to, but every one knew that Lord -Hetherington was an odd man; consequently no one was astonished, after -the bound volumes had been duly exhibited to dining or calling -friends, and had elicited the various outbursts of "Jove!" "Ah!" -"Charming!" "Quite too nice!" and "Can't think how he does it, eh?" -which politeness demanded--no one was astonished to hear that his -lordship, panting for something fresh in which to distinguish himself, -had found it in taxidermy, which was now absorbing all the energies of -his noble mind. The receipt of a packet of humming-birds, presented by -a poor relation in the navy, first turned Lord Hetherington's thoughts -to this new pursuit; and he acted with such promptitude, that before -the end of a week Mr. Byrne--small, shrunken, and high-shouldered--had -taken the place at the bench erst occupied by the stalwart men in -shirt-sleeves; but the smell of paste and gum had been supplanted by -that of pungent chemicals, the floor was strewn with feathers and wool -instead of leather and gilt-leaf, and his lordship, still looking on -and handing tools to his companion, was stuffing birds very much in -the same way as he had bound books. - -It was a fine sight to see old Jack Byrne, "Bitter Byrne," the -ultra-radical, the sourest-tongued orator of the Spartan Club, the -ex-Chartist prisoner, waited on by gorgeous footmen in plush and silk -stockings, fed on French dishes and dry sherry, and accepting it all -as if he had been born to the situation. - -"Why should I quarrel with my bread and butter, or what's a devilish -deal better than bread and butter," he asked in the course of a long -evening's ramble with Walter Joyce, "because it comes from a -representative of the class I hate? I earn it, I work honestly and -hard for my wage, and suppose I am to act up to the sham self-denial -preached in some of the prints which batten on the great cause without -understanding or caring for it--suppose I were to refuse the meal -which my lord's politeness sends me, as some of your self-styled -Gracchi or Patriots would wish, how much further should we have -developed the plans, or by what the more should we have dealt a blow -at the institution we are labouring to destroy? Not one jot My maxim, -as I have told you before, is, use these people! Hate them if you -will, despise them as you must, but use them!" - -The old man's vehemence had a certain weight with Joyce, who, -nevertheless, was not wholly convinced as to the propriety of his -friend's position, and said, "You justify your conduct by Lord -Hetherington's, then? You use each other?" - -"Exactly! My Lord Hetherington in Parliament says, or would say if he -were allowed the chance, but they know him too well for that, so he -can only show by his votes and his proxies--proxies, by the Lord! -isn't that a happy state of things when a minister can swamp any -measure that he chooses by pulling from his pocket a few papers sent -to him by a few brother peers, who care so little about the question -in hand that they won't even leave their dinner-tables to come down -and hear it discussed?--says that he loathes what he is pleased to -call the lower classes, and considers them unworthy of being -represented in the legislature. But then he wants to stuff birds, or -rather to be known as a bird-stuffer of taste, and none of the House -of Peers can help him there. So he makes inquiries, and is referred to -me, and engages me, and we work together--neither abrogating our own -sentiments. He uses my skill, I take his money, each has his _quid pro -quo_; and if the time were ever to come,--as it may come, Walter, -mark my words--as it _must_ come, for everything is tending towards -it,--when the battle of the poor against the rich, the bees against -the drones, is fought in this country, fought out, I mean, practically -and not theoretically, we shall each of us, my Lord Hetherington and -I, be found on our respective sides, without the slightest obligation -from one to the other!" - -Joyce had come to look forward to those evening walks with the old man -as the pleasantest portion of the day. From nine till six he laboured -conscientiously at the natural-history work which Mr. Byrne had -procured for him, dull uninteresting work enough, but sufficiently -fairly rewarded. Then he met his old friend at Bliffkins's, and after -their frugal meal they set out for a long ramble through the streets. -Byrne was full of information, which, in his worldly wise fashion, he -imparted, tinged with social philosophy or dashed with an undercurrent -of his own peculiar views. Of which an example. Walter Joyce had been -standing for five minutes, silent, rapt in delight at his first view -of the Parliament Houses as seen from Westminster Bridge. A bright -moonlight night, soft, dreamy, even here, with a big yellow harvest -moon coming up from the back, throwing the delicate tracery into -splendid relief, and sending out the shadows thick and black; the old -man looking on calmly, quietly chuckling at the irrepressible -enthusiasm mantling over his young friend's cheeks and gleaming in his -eyes. - -"A fine place, lad?" - -"Fine! splendid, superb!" - -"Well, not to put _too_ fine a point upon it, we'll say fine. Ah, they -may blackguard Barry as much as they like--and when it comes to -calling names and flinging mud in print, mind you, I don't know -anybody to beat your architect or your architect's friend--but there's -not another man among 'em could have done anything like that! That's a -proper dignified house for the Parliament of the People to sit -in--when it comes!" - -"But it does sit there, doesn't it!" - -"It? What? The Parliament of the People? No, sir; that sits, if you -would believe certain organs of the press, up a court in Fleet Street, -where it discusses the affairs of the nation over screws of shag -tobacco and pots of fourpenny ale. What sits there before us is the -Croesus Club, a select assemblage of between six and seven hundred -members, who drop down here to levy taxes and job generally in the -interval between dinner and bed." - -"Are they--are they there now?" asked Joyce eagerly, peering with -outstretched neck at the building before him. - -"Now? No, of course not, man! They're away at their own devices, -nine-tenths of them breaking the laws which they helped to make, and -all enjoying themselves, and wondering what the devil people find to -grumble at!" - -"One of the governors of the old school, down, down at -Helmingham"--a large knot swelled in Joyce's throat as he said the -word, and nearly choked him; never before had he felt the place so far -away or the days spent there so long removed from his then life--"was -a member of Parliament, I think. Lord Beachcroft. Did you ever hear of -him?" - -The old man smiled sardonically. - -"Hear of him, man? There's not one of them that has made his mark, or -that is likely to make his mark in any way, that I don't know by -sight, or that I haven't heard speak. I know Lord Beachcroft well -enough; he's a philanthropist, wants camphorated chalk tooth-powder -for the paupers, and horse-exercise for the convicts. Registered among -the noodles, ranks A1, weakly built, leaden-headed, and wants an -experienced keeper!" - -"That doctrine would have been taken as heresy at Helmingham! I know -he came there once on our speech-day to deliver the prizes, and the -boys all cheered him to the echo!" - -"The boys! of course they did! The child is father to the man! I -forgot, people don't read Wordsworth nowadays, but that's what he -says, and he and Tennyson are the only poet-philosophers that have -risen amongst us for many years; and boys shout, as men would, at the -mere sight, at the mere taste of a lord! How they like to roll your -'lordship' round their mouths, and fear lest they should lose the -slightest atom of its flavour! Not that the boys did wrong in cheering -Lord Beachcroft! He's harmless enough, and well-meaning, I'm sure, and -stands well up among the noodles. And it's better to stand anywhere -amongst them than to be affiliated to the other party!" - -"The other party? Who are they, Mr. Byrne?" - -"The rogues, lad, the rogues! Rogues and noodles make up the blessed -lot of senators sitting in your gimcrack palace, who vote away your -birthright and mine, tax the sweat of millions, bow to Gold Stick and -kiss Black Rod's coat-tails, send our fleets to defend Von Sourkraut's -honour, or our soldiers to sicken of jungle fever in pursuit of the -rebel Lollum Dha's adversaries! Parliament? Representatives of the -people? Very much! My gallant friend, all pipeclay and padded breast, -who won't hear of the army estimates being reduced; my learned friend, -who brings all his forensic skill and all his power of tongue-fence, -first learned in three-guinea briefs at the Old Bailey, and now -educated up into such silvery eloquence, into play for the chance of a -judgeship and a knighthood; the volatile Irish member, who subsides -finally into the consulate of Zanzibar; the honourable member, who, -having in his early youth swept out a shop at Loughboro', and arrived -in London with eightpence, has accumulated millions, and is, of -course, a strong Tory, with but two desires in life--to keep down 'the -people,' and to obtain a card for his wife for the Premier's Saturday -evenings--these are the representatives of the people for you! Rogues -and noodles, noodles and rogues. Don't you like the picture?" - -"I should hate it, if I believed in it, Mr. Byrne!" said Joyce, moving -away, "but I don't! You won't think me rude or unkind, but--but I've -been brought up in so widely different a faith. I've been taught to -hold in such reverence all that I hear you deny, that----" - -"Stick to it, lad! hold to it while you can!" said the old man kindly, -laying his hand on his companion's arm. "My doctrines are strong meat -for babes--too strong, I dare say--and you're but a toothless infant -yet in these things, anyhow! So much the better for you. I recollect a -story of some man who said he was never happy or well after he was -told he had a liver! Go on as long as you can in pleasant ignorance of -the fact that you have a political liver. Some day it will become -torpid and sluggish, and then--then come and talk to old Dr. Byrne. -Till then, he won't attempt to alarm you, depend upon it!" - -Not very long to be deferred was the day in which the political -patient was to come to the political physician for advice and for -treatment. - - -Beaufort Square looked hideously dull as Lord Hetherington drove -through it on his way to his home from the railway station a few days -after the conversation above recorded, and the clanging of his own -great gates as they shut behind him echoed and re-echoed through the -vast deserted space. The gorgeous porter and all the regiment of -domestics were down at Westhope, the family place in Norfolk, so the -carriage-gates were opened by a middle-aged female with her head tied -up for toothache, and Mrs. Mason, the housekeeper, with a female -retinue, was waiting to receive his lordship on the steps. Always -affable to old servants of the family, whose age, long service, and -comfortable comely appearance do him credit, as he thinks, Lord -Hetherington exchanges a few gracious words with Mrs. Mason, desires -that Mr. Byrne shall be shown in to him so soon as he arrives, and -makes his way across the great hall to the library. The shutters of -his room have been opened, but there has been no time given for -further preparations, and the big writing-table, the globes, and the -bookcases are all swathed in ghostly holland drapery. The bust of the -ninth earl, Lord Hetherington's father, has slipped its head out of -its covering, and looks astonished and as if it had been suddenly -called up in its nightclothes. My lord looks dismayed, as well he may, -at the dreary room, but finds no more cheerful outlook from the window -into the little square garden, where a few melancholy leaves are -rotting in the dirty corners into which they have drifted, and where -Mrs. Mason's grandson, unconscious of observation, is throwing stones -at a cat. My lord rattles the loose silver in his trousers-pockets, -and walks up to the fireplace and inspects his tongue in the -looking-glass, whistles thoughtfully, sighs heavily, and is beginning -to think he shall go mad, when Mrs. Mason opens the door and announces -"Mr. Byrne." - -"How do, Byrne?" says his lordship, much relieved. "Glad to see -you--come up on purpose--want your help!" - -Mr. Byrne returns his lordship's salutations, and quietly asks in what -way he can be of use. His lordship is rather taken aback at being so -suddenly brought to book, but says with some hesitation-- - -"Well, not exactly in your own way, Byrne; I don't think I shall do -any more what-d'ye-call-ums, birds, any more--for the present, I mean, -for the present. Her ladyship thought those last screens so good that -it would be-useless to try to improve on them, and so she's given -me--I mean I've got--another idea." - -Mr. Byrne, with the faintest dawn of a cynical grin on his face, bows -and waits. - -"Fact is," pursues his lordship, "my place down at Westhope, full of -most monstrously interesting records of our family from the time -of--oh, the Crusaders and Guy Fawkes and the Pretender, and all that -kind of thing; records, don't you know; old papers, and what they call -documents, you know, and those kind of things. Well, I want to take -all these things and make 'em into a sort of history of the family, -you know, to write it and have it published, don't they call it? You -know what I mean." - -Mr. Byrne intimates that they do call it published, and that he -apprehends his lordship's meaning completely. - -"Well, then, Byrne," his lordship continues, "what I sent for you for -is this. 'Tisn't in your line, I know, but I've found you clever, and -all that kind of thing, and above your station. Oh, I mean it, I do -indeed, and I want you to find me some person, respectable and -educated and all that, who will just go through these papers, you -know, and select the right bits, you know, and write them down, you -know, and, in point of fact, just do--you know what I mean." - -Mr. Byrne, with a radiant look which his face but seldom wore, averred -that he not merely understood what was meant, but that he could -recommend the very man whom his lordship required: a young man of -excellent address, good education, and great industry. - -"And he'll understand----?" asked Lord Hetherington hesitatingly, and -with a curious look at Mr. Byrne. - -"Everything," replied the old man. "Your lordship's book will be the -most successful thing you've done." - -"Then bring him to the Clarendon at twelve the day after to-morrow. As -he's to live in the house, and that kind of thing, her ladyship must -see him before he's engaged." - - -"I suppose I may congratulate you, my boy," said Byrne to Joyce a day -or two afterwards, as they walked away from the Clarendon Hotel after -their interview, "though you don't look much pleased about it." - -"I am an ungrateful brute," said Walter; "I ought to have thanked you -the instant the door closed; for it is entirely owing to you and your -kindness that I have obtained this splendid chance. But----" - -"But what?" said the old man kindly. - -"Did you notice that woman's reception of me, and the way she spoke?" - -"That woman? Oh, my Lady! H'm--she's not too polite to those she -considers her inferiors." - -"Polite? To me it was imperious, insolent, degrading! But I can put up -with it!" And he added softly to himself, "For Marian's sake!" - - - - -CHAPTER X. -AN INTERIOR. - - -Marian Ashurst had begun, soon after their parting, to feel that she -had been somewhat too sanguine in her anticipations of the immediate -success of Walter Joyce. Each little difficulty she had had to -encounter in her own life until the old home was left behind had aided -to depress her, to force her to understand that the battle of life was -harder to fight than she had fancied it, and had brought to her mind a -shapeless fear that she had mistaken, overvalued, the strength and -efficacy of the weapons with which she must fight that battle. -Walter's letters had not tended to lift her heart up from its -depression. His nature was essentially candid; he had neither the -skill nor the inclination to feign, and he had kept her exactly -informed. On his return home after his interview with Lord and Lady -Hetherington, Joyce found a letter awaiting him. It was from Marian, -written to her lover from Mr. Creswell's house, and ran as follows: - - - "Woolgreaves, Wednesday. - -"MY DEAREST WALTER, - -"The project I told you of, in my last letter, has been carried out; -mamma and I are settled for the present at Woolgreaves. How strange it -seems! Everything has been done so suddenly when it came to the point, -and Mr. Creswell and his nieces turned out so differently from what I -expected. I did not look for their taking any notice of us, except in -the commonplace way of people in their position to people in ours. I -always had a notion that 'womankind' have but a small share in men's -friendships. However, these people seem determined to make me out in -the wrong, and though I do not give the young ladies credit for more -than intelligent docility, making them understand that their best -policy is to carry out their uncle's kind intentions--that they have -more to gain by obedience in this respect than to lose by anything -likely to be alienated from them in our direction--I must acknowledge -that their docility is intelligent. They made the invitation most -graciously, urged it most heartily, and are carrying out all it -implied fully. You will have been surprised at mamma's finding the -idea of being in any one's house endurable, under the circumstances, -but she really likes it. Maude and Gertrude Creswell, who are the very -opposites of me in everything, belong to the 'sweet-girl' species, and -mamma has found out that she likes sweet girls. Poor mamma, she never -had the chance of making the discovery before! I do believe it never -occurred to her that her own daughter was not a 'sweet girl,' until -she made the conquest of the hearts of these specimens. The truth is, -also, that mamma feels, she _must_ feel, every one must feel the -material comfort of living as we are living here, in comparison with -the makeshift wretchedness of the lodging into which we shall have to -go, when our visit here comes to a conclusion, and still more, as a -_thoroughly known and felt_ standard of comparison, with the intense -and oppressive sadness, and the perpetual necessity for watchfulness -in the least expense, which have characterised our dear old house -since our sad loss. She is not herself aware of the good which it has -done her to come here, she does not perceive the change it has wrought -in her, and it is well she should not, for I really think the simple, -devoted, grieving soul would be hurt and angry with herself at the -idea that anything should make any difference to her, that she should -be 'roused.' How truly my dear father understood, how highly he prized -her exquisite sensitiveness of feeling; he was just the man to hold it -infinitely above all the strong-mindedness in the world! I am stronger -minded, happily--I wonder if you like to know that I am, or whether -you, too, prefer the weaker, the more womanly type, as people say, -forgetting that most of the endurance, and a good deal of the work, in -this world, is our 'womanly' inheritance, and that some of us, at -least, do it with discredit. You don't want moralising, or -philosophising, from me, though, dearest Walter, do you? You complain -of my matter-of-fact letters as it is. I must not yield to my bad -habit of talking to myself, rather than to you on paper. - -"Well, then, we came to Woolgreaves, and found the heartiest of -welcomes, and everything prepared for our comfort. As I don't think -you know anything more of the place than could be learned from our -summer-evening strolls about the grounds, when we always took such -good care to keep well out of sight of the windows, I shall describe -the house. You will like to know where and how I live, and to see in -your fancy my surroundings. How glad I shall be when you, too, can -send me a sketch of anything you can call 'home!' Of course, I don't -mean that to apply to myself here; I never let any feeling of -enjoyment really take possession of me because of its transitoriness; -you know exactly in what sense I mean it, a certain feeling of comfort -and quiet, of having to-morrow what you have had to-day, of seeing the -same people and the same things around, which makes up the idea of -home, though it must all vanish soon. I wonder if men get used to -alterations in their modes of life so soon as women do? I fancy not. I -know there is mamma, and I am sure a more easily pleased, less -consciously selfish human being never existed (if her share in the -comforts of home was disproportionate, it was my dear father's doing, -not of her claiming), and yet she has been a week here, and all the -luxury she lives in seems as natural to her, as indispensable as the -easy-chair, the especially good tea, the daily glass of wine, the -daintiest food which were allotted to her at home. I saw the girls -exchange a look this morning when she said, 'I hope it won't rain, I -shall miss my afternoon drive so much!' I wonder what the look meant? -Perhaps it meant, 'Listen to that upstart! She never had a carriage of -her own in her life, and because she has the use of ours for a few -clays, she talks as if it were a necessary of life.' Perhaps--and I -think they may be sufficiently genuinely sweet girls to make it -possible--the look may have meant that they were glad to think they -had it in their power to give her anything she enjoyed so much. I like -it very much, too; there is more pleasure in driving about leisurely -in a carriage which you have not to pay for than I imagined; but I -should be sorry the girls knew I cared very much about it. I have not -very much respect for their intellects, and silly heads are apt to -take airs at the mere idea of being in a position to patronise. -Decidedly the best room in the house is mamma's, and she likes it so -much. I often see the thought in her face, 'If we could have given him -all these comforts, we might have had him with us now.' And so we -might, Walter, so we might. Just think of the great age some of the -very rich and grand folks live to; I am sure I have seen it in the -papers hundreds of times, seventy, eighty, ninety sometimes, just -because they _are_ rich; rank has nothing to do with it beyond -implying wealth, and if my father had been even a moderately rich man, -if he had been anything but a poor man, he would have been alive -to-day. We must try to be rich, my dearest Walter, and if that is -impossible (and I fear it, I fear it much since I have been here, and -Mr. Creswell has told me a good deal about how he made his money, and -from all he says it seems indispensable to have _some_ to begin with, -there is truth in the saying that _money makes money_)--if that is -impossible, at least we must not think of marrying while we are poor. -I don't think anything can compensate to one's self for being poor, -and I am quite sure nothing can compensate for seeing any one whom one -loves exposed to the privations and the humiliations of poverty. I -have thought so much of this, dearest Walter, I have been so doubtful -whether you think of it seriously enough. It seems absurd for a woman -to say to a man that she ponders the exigencies of life more wisely, -and sees its truths more fully than he does; but I sometimes think -women do so, and in _our_ case I think I estimate the trial and the -struggle there is before us more according to their real weight and -severity than you do, Walter, for you think of me only, whereas I -think of you more than of myself, and as _one_ with myself. I have -learned, since I came here, that to understand what poverty really -means one must see the details of wealth. We have only a general idea -of a fine house and grounds, a luxurious table and a lot of servants. -The general idea seems very grand and attractive, but when one sees it -all in working order, when one can find out the cost of each -department, the price of every article, the scale on which it is all -kept up, not for show, but _for every-day use_, then the real meaning -of wealth, the awful difficulty of attaining it, realise themselves to -one's mind. The Creswell girls know nothing about the mechanism of -their splendid home, not much about even their personal expenses. -'Uncle gives us a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and tells us we may -send him in any reasonable number of bills besides,' Maude told me. -And it is quite true. They keep no accounts. I checked her maid's book -for Gertrude, warning her not to let her servant see her ignorance, -and she says she does not think she ever had some of the things put -down. Just think of that! No dyeing old dresses black for mourning -for them, and turning rusty crape! Not that that sort of thing -signifies--the calculation is on too large a scale for such small -items--they only illustrate the whole story of poverty. The -housekeeper -and I are quite friendly. She has a notion that ladies ought to -understand economy, and she is very civil. She has explained -everything -to me, and I find the sums which pass through her hands alone would be -a fortune to us. There are twenty servants in the house and stables, -and their 'hall' is a sight! When I think of the shabby dining-room in -which my dear father used to receive his friends--great people, too, -sometimes, but not latterly--I do feel that human life is a very -unfair thing. - -"The great wide hall, floored with marble, and ornamented with -pictures, and lamps on pedestals, and stags'-heads, and all the things -one sees in pictures of halls, is in the centre of the house, and has -a dark carved-oak gallery all round it, on which numerous rooms open; -but on the ground-floor there is a grand dining-room, and a smaller -room where we breakfast, a billiard-room, a splendid library (all my -father's books are in it now, and look nothing in the crowd), an -ante-room where people wait who come on business to Mr. Creswell (all -his business seems to consist in disposing surplus money to -advantage), and at the back of all, opening on the most beautiful -flower-garden you can conceive, an immense conservatory. This is a -great pleasure to mamma; there are no painful associations with _such_ -flowers for her; my father never gave her such bouquets as Gertrude -brings to the breakfast-table every morning and presents to her with a -kiss, which her uncle seems to think particularly gracious and kind, -for he always smiles at her. - -"Indeed, he smiles a good deal at every one, for he is a very -good-natured, amiable, and kindly man, and seems to think little of -his wealth. I am sure he is dreadfully imposed upon--indeed, I have -found out many instances of it. How happy he could make _us_ if he -would! dare say he would not miss the money which would make us -comfortable. But I must not think of such a thing. No one could afford -to give so much as it would be _wise_ to marry on, and we never should -be happy if we were not wise. I don't think Mr. Creswell has a trouble -in the world, except his son Tom, and I am not sure that he is a -trouble to him--for he doesn't talk much about himself--but I am quite -sure he ought to be. The boy is as graceless, selfish, heartless a -cub, I think, as ever lived. I remember your thinking him very -troublesome and disobedient in school, and he certainly is not better -at home, where he has many opportunities of gratifying his evil -propensities not afforded him by school. He is very much afraid of me, -short a time as I have been here, that is quite evident; and I am -inclined to think one reason why Mr. Creswell likes my being here so -much is the influence I exercise over Tom. Very likely he does not -acknowledge that to himself as a reason, perhaps he does not even know -it; but I can discern it, and also that it is a great relief to the -girls. They are very kind to Tom, who worries their lives out, I am -sure, when they are alone; but 'schoolmaster's daughter' was always an -awful personage in the old days, and makes herself _felt_ now very -satisfactorily, though silently. I fancy Tom will turn out to be the -crook in his father's lot when he grows up. He is an unmannerly, -common creature, not to be civilised by all the comfort and luxury of -home, or softened by all the gentleness and indulgence of his father. -He is doing nothing just now; he did not choose to remain with papa's -successor, and is running wild until he can be placed with a private -tutor--some clergyman who takes only two or three pupils. Meantime, -the coachman and the groom are his favourite associates, and the -stable his resort of predilection. - -"Do you remember the beech-copse just beyond Hillside Road? The -windows of my room look out in that direction, far away, beyond the -Woolgreaves grounds; I can see the tops of the trees, and the winding -road beyond them. I go up to my room every evening, to see the sun set -behind the hill there, and to think of the many times we walked there -and talked of what was to be. Will it ever be, Walter? Were we not -foolish boy and girl--foolish paupers? Ay, the word, hard, ugly, but -_true_. When I look round this room I feel it, oh, so true! Mamma and -I have a pretty sitting-room, and a bedroom each on opposite sides of -it. Such rooms the very simplicity and exquisite freshness of their -furniture and appointments are more significant of wealth, of the ease -of household arrangement, and the perfection of household service, -than any amount of rich upholstery. And then the drawing-rooms, -and the girls' rooms, and the music-room, and the endless spare -rooms--which, by-the-by, are rarely occupied; for so rich a man, and -one with such a house, Mr. Creswell seems to me to have singularly -little society. No one but the clergyman and his wife has been since -we came. I thought it might be out of delicate consideration for us -that Mr. Creswell might have signified a wish for especial privacy, -but I find that is not the case. He said to me to-day that he feared -we found Woolgreaves dull. I do not. I have too much to think of to be -affected by anything of that kind; and as my thoughts are rarely of a -cheerful order, I should not ingratiate myself by social agreeability. -Our life is quietly luxurious. I adhere to my old habits of early -rising; but I am the only person in the house who enjoys the beauty of -the gardens and grounds in the sweet morning. We breakfast at ten, and -mamma and the girls go out into the lawn or into the garden, and they -chat to her and amuse her until luncheon. I usually pass the morning -in the library, reading and writing, or talking with Mr. Creswell. It -is very amusing and interesting to me to hear all about his career, -how he made so much money, and how he administers it. I begin to -understand it very well now. I don't think I should make a bad woman -of business by any means, and I am sure everything of the kind would -have a great interest for me, even apart from my desire for money, and -my conviction that neither happiness nor repose is to be had in this -world without it. The old gentleman seems surprised to find me -interested and intelligent about what he calls such dry detail; but, -just as books and pictures are interesting, though one may never hope -to possess them, so money, though it does not belong to myself, and -never can, interests me. Oh, my dearest Walter, if we had but a -little, just a few hundreds of pounds, and Mr. Creswell could teach -you how to employ it with advantage in some commercial undertaking! He -began with little more than one thousand pounds, and now! But I might -as well wish you had been born an archbishop. In the afternoon, there -is our drive. What handsome houses we see, what fine places we pass -by! How often I occupy myself with thinking what I should do if I only -had them, and the money they represent! And how hard the sight of them -makes the past appear! How little, falling to _our_ share, would make -the future smiling and happy! - -"The girls are not interesting companions to Mr. Creswell. He is fond -of them, and very kind to them--in fact, lavishly generous--they never -have an ungratified wish; but how can a man, whose whole life has been -devoted to business, feel much companionship with young girls like -them, who do not know what it means? Of course, they think and talk -about their dead parents--at least, I suppose so--and their past -lives, and neither subject has any charms for their uncle. They -read--especially Maude--and, strange to say, they read solid books as -well as novels; they excel in fancy-work, which I detest, probably -because I can't do it, and could not afford to buy the materials if I -understood the art; and they both play and sing. I have heard very -little good music, and I am not a judge, except of what is pleasing to -myself; but I think I am correct in rating Maude's musical abilities -very highly. Her voice thrills me almost to pain, and to see my -mother's quiet tears when Maude plays to her in the dim evening is to -feel that the power of producing such salutary healing emotion is -priceless indeed. What a pity it is I am not a good musician! Loving -music as you love it, dearest Walter, it will be a privation to -you--if ever that time we talked of comes, when we should have a -decent home to share--that I shall not be able to make sweet music for -you. They are not fond of me, but I did not think they would be, and I -am not disappointed. I like them, but they are too young, too happy, -and _too rich_ for me not to envy them a little, and though love and -jealousy may coexist, love and envy cannot. - -"In all this long letter, my own Walter, I have said nothing of _you_. -You understand why. I _dare_ not. I dare not give utterance to the -discouragement which your last vague letter caused me, lest such -discouragement should infect you, and by lowering your spirits weaken -your efforts. Under these circumstances, and until I hear from you -more decisively, I will say nothing, but strive and hope! On my side, -there is little striving possible, and I dare not tell you how little -hope. - - "Your own - - "MARIAN." - - -To the strong, loving, and loyal heart of Walter, a letter from Marian -was a sacred treasure, a full, intense, solemn delight. She had -thought the thoughts, written the words, touched the paper. When -disappointment, distress, depression, and uncertainty accumulated upon -him most ruthlessly, and bore him most heavily to the ground, he shook -them from him at the bidding of a letter from her, and rose more than -ever determined not to be beaten in the struggle which was to bring -him such a reward. The calmness, the seeming coldness even of her -letters did not annoy or disappoint him; theirs was the perfect love -that did not need protestation--that was as well and as ill, as fully -and as imperfectly, expressed by the simplest affirmation as by a -score of endearing phrases. No letter of Marian's had ever failed to -delight, to strengthen, to encourage Walter Joyce, until this one -reached him. - -He opened the envelope with an eager touch, his dark cheek flushed, -and a tender smile shone in his eyes; he murmured a word of love as -the closely written sheets met his impatient gaze. - -"A long letter to-day, Marian, my darling. Did you guess how sadly I -wanted it?" - -But as Walter read the letter his countenance changed. He turned back, -and read some portions twice over, then went on, and when he concluded -it began again. But not with the iteration of a lover refreshing his -first feeling of delight, seeking pet passages to dwell on afresh. -There was no such pleasurable impulse in the moody re-reading of his -letter. Walter frowned more than once while he read it, and struck the -hand in which he held it monotonously against his knee when he had -acquired the full unmistakable meaning of it. - -His face had been sad and anxious when the letter reached him--he had -reason for sadness and anxiety--but when he had read it for the last -time, and thrust it into his breast-pocket, his face was more than sad -and anxious--it was haggard, gloomy, and angry. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -THE LOUT. - - -Mr. Creswell's only son, who was named after Mr. Creswell's only -brother, by no means resembled his prototype either in appearance, -manners, or disposition. For whereas Tom Creswell the elder had been a -long, lean, washed-out-looking person, with long, wiry black hair, -sallow complexion, hollow cheeks, and a faint dawn of a moustache (in -his youth he had turned down his collars and modelled himself -generally on Lord Byron, and throughout his life he was declared by -his wife to be most aristocratic and romantic-looking), Tom Creswell -the younger had a small, round, bullet head, with closely cropped -sandy hair, eyes deeply sunken and but little visible, snub nose, wide -mouth, and dimpled chin. Tom Creswell the elder rose at noon, and lay -upon the sofa all day, composing verses, reading novels, or playing -the flute. Tom Creswell the younger was up at five every morning, -round through the stables, saw the horses properly fed, peered into -every corn-bin ("Darng, now whey do thot? Darnged if un doesn't count -cam-grains, I think," was the groom's muttered exclamation on this -proceeding), ran his hand over the animals, and declared that they -"didn't carry as much flesh as they might," with a look at the helpers -which obviously meant that they starved the cattle and sold the oats. -Then Tom the younger would go to the garden, where his greatest -delight lay in counting the peaches and nectarines, and plums and -apricots, nestling coyly against the old red south wall, in taking -stock of the cucumbers and melons under their frames, and in ticking -off the number of the bunches of grapes slowly ripening in the sickly -heat of the vinery, while the Scotch head-gardener, a man whose -natural hot-headedness was barely kept within bounds by the strictness -of his religious opinions, would stand by looking on, outwardly -placid, but inwardly burning to deliver himself of his sentiments in -the Gaelic language. Tom Creswell the elder was always languid and -ailing; as a boy he had worn a comforter, and a hare-skin on his -chest, had taken cough-lozenges and jujubes, had been laughed at and -called "Molly" and "Miss" by his schoolfellows, and had sighed and -simpered away his existence. Tom Creswell the younger was strong as a -Shetland pony, and hard as a tennis-ball, full of exuberant vitality -which, not finding sufficient vent in ordinary schoolboy fun, in -cricket, or hockey, or football, let itself off in cruelty, in teasing -and stoning animals, in bullying smaller boys. Tom Creswell the elder -was weak, selfish, idle, and conceited, but--you could not help -allowing it--he was a gentleman. Tom Creswell the younger--you could -not possibly deny it--was a blatant cad. - -Not the least doubt of it. Everybody knew it, and most people owned -it. Down in the village it was common talk. Mr. Creswell was -wonderfully respected in Helmingham town, though the old people minded -the day when he was thought little of. Helmingham is strictly -Conservative, and when Mr. Creswell first settled himself at -Woolgreaves, and commenced his restoration of the house, and was known -to be spending large sums on the estate, and was seen to have horses -and equipages very far outshining those of Sir Thomas Churchill of the -Park, who was lord of the manor, and a county magnate of the very -first order, the village folk could not understand a man of no -particular birth or breeding, and whose money, it was well known, had -been made in trade--which, to the Helmingham limited comprehension, -meant across a counter in a shop, "just like Tom Boucher, the -draper"--attaining such a position. They did not like the idea of -being patronised by one whom they considered to be of their own order; -and the foolish face which had been transmitted through ten -generations, and the stupid head which had never had a wise idea or a -kindly thought in it, received the homage which was denied to the -clever man who had been the founder of his own fortune, and who was -the best landlord and the kindest neighbour in the country round. But -this prejudice soon wore away. The practical good sense which had -gained for Mr. Creswell his position soon made itself felt among the -Helmingham folk, and the "canny" ones soon grew as loud in his praise -as they had been in his disparagement. Even Jack Forman, the -ne'er-do-weel of the village, who was always sunning his fat form at -alehouse-doors, and who had but few good words for any one, save for -the most recent "stander" of beer, had been heard to declare outside -that Mr. Creswell was the "raight soort," a phrase which, in Jack's -limited vocabulary, stood for something highly complimentary. The -young ladies, too, were exceedingly popular. They were pretty, of a -downright English prettiness, expressed in hair and eyes and -complexion, a prettiness commending itself at once to the uneducated -English rustic taste, which is apt to find classical features "peaky," -and romantic expression "fal-lal." They were girls about whom there -was "no nonsense"--cheerful, bright, and homely. The feelings which -congealed into cold politeness under the influence of Marian Ashurst's -supposed "superiority" overflowed with womanly tenderness when their -possessor was watching Widow Halton through the fever, or tending -little Madge Mason's crippled limb. The blight faces of "the young -ladies" were known for miles through the country round, and whenever -sickness or distress crossed the threshold they were speedily followed -by these ministering angels. If human prayers for others' welfare -avail on high, Mr. Creswell and his nieces had them in scores. - -But the Helmingham folk did not pray much for young Tom; on the -contrary, their aspirations towards him were, it is to be feared, of a -malignant kind. The warfare which always existed between the village -folk and the Grammar-School boys was carried on without rancour. The -farmers whose orchards were robbed, whose growing wheat was trampled -down, whose ducks were dog-hunted, contented themselves with putting -in an occasional appearance with a cart-whip, fully knowing, at the -same time, the impossibility of catching their young and active -tormentors, and with "darnging" the rising generation in general, and -the youth then profiting by Sir Ranulph Clinton's generosity in -particular. The village tradesmen whose windows were broken, when they -discovered who were the offenders, laid on an additional item to their -parents' account; when they could not bring the crime home to any boy -in particular, laid on an additional item to Mr. Ashurst's account, -and thus consoled themselves. Moreover, there was a general feeling -that somehow, in a way that they could not and never attempted to -explain, the school, since Mr. Ashurst had had it in hand, had been a -credit to the place, and the canny folk, in their canniness, liked -something which brought them credit and cost them nothing, and had -friendly feelings to the masters and the boys. - -But not to young Tom Creswell. They hated him, and they said so -roundly. What was youthful merriment and mischief in other boys was, -they averred, "bedevilment" in young Tom. Standing at their doors on -fine summer evenings, the village folk would pause in their gossip to -look after him as he cantered by on his chestnut pony--an animal which -Banks, the farrier, declared to be as vicious and as cross-grained as -its master. Eyes were averted as he passed, and no hat was raised in -salutation; but that mattered little to the rider. He noticed it, of -course, as he noticed everything in his hang-dog manner, with furtive -glances under his eyebrows; and he thought that when he came into his -kingdom--he often speculated upon that time--he would make these dogs -pay for their insolence. Jack Forman was never drunk; no given amount -of beer--and it was always given in Jack's case, as he never paid for -it--could make him wholly intoxicated; but when he was in that state -which he explained himself as having "an extry pint in him," Jack -would stand up, holding on by the horse-trough in front of the Seven -Stars, and shake his disengaged fist at young Tom riding past, and -express his wish to wring young Tom's neck. Mr. Benthall, who had -succeeded Mr. Ashurst as head-master of the school, was soon on -excellent terms with Mr. Creswell, and thus had an opportunity of -getting an insight into young Tom's character--an opportunity which -rendered him profoundly thankful that that interesting youth was no -longer numbered among his scholars, and caused him much wonderment as -to how Trollope, who was the curate of a neighbouring parish, who had -been chosen for young Tom's private tutor, could possibly get on with -his pupil. Mr. Trollope, a mild, gentlemanly, retiring young man, with -a bashful manner and a weak voice, found himself utterly unable to -cope with the lout, who mocked at him before his face and mimicked him -behind his back, and refused to be taught or guided by him in any way. -So Mr. Trollope, after speaking to the lout's father, and finding but -little good resulting therefrom, contented himself with setting -exercises which were never done, and marking out lessons which were -never learned, and bearing a vast amount of contumely and -unpleasantness for the sake of a salary which was very regularly paid. - -It must not be supposed that his son's strongly marked characteristics -passed unobserved by Mr. Creswell, or that they failed to cause him an -immensity of pain. The man's life had been so hard and earnest, so -engrossing and so laborious, that he had only allowed himself two -subjects for distraction, occasionally indulged in; one, regret for -his wife; the other, hope in his son. As time passed away and he grew -older, the first lessened and the other grew. His Jenny had been an -angel on earth, he thought, and was now an angel in heaven, and the -period was nearing, rapidly nearing, when, as he himself humbly hoped, -he might be permitted to join her. Then his son would take his place, -with no ladder to climb, no weary heart-burning and hard slaving to go -through, but with the position achieved, the ball at his foot. In Mr. -Creswell's own experience he had seen a score of men, whose fathers -had been inferior to him in natural talent and business capacity, and -in luck, which was not the least part of the affair, holding their own -with the landed gentry whose ancestry had been "county people" for -ages past, and playing at squires with as much grace and tact as if -cotton-twist and coal-dust were things of which they might have heard, -indeed, but with which they had never been brought into contact. It -had been the dream of the old man's life that his son should be one of -these. The first idea of the purchase of Woolgreaves, the lavish -splendour with which the place had been rehabilitated and with which -it was kept up, the still persistent holding on to business and -superintending, though with but rare intervals, his own affairs, all -sprang from this hope. The old gentleman's tastes were simple in the -extreme. He hated grandeur, disliked society, had had far more than -enough of business worries. There was plenty, more than plenty, for -him and his nieces to live on in affluence, but it had been the -dearest wish of his heart to leave his son a man of mark, and do it he -would. - -Did he really think so? Not in his inmost heart. The keen eyes which -had been accustomed for so long to read human nature like a book -refused to be hoodwinked; the keen sense used to sift and balance -human motives refused to be paltered with; the logical powers which -deduced effect from cause refused to be stifled or led astray. To no -human being were Tom Creswell's moral deficiencies and shortcomings -more patent than to his father; it is needless to say that to none -were they the subject of such bitter anguish. Mr. Creswell knew that -his son was a failure, and worse than a failure. If he had been merely -stupid there would have been not much to grieve over. The lad would -have been a disappointment--as how many lads are disappointments to -fond parents!--and that was all. Hundreds, thousands of stupid young -men filled their position in society with average success. Their money -supported them, and they pulled through. He had hoped for something -better than this for his son, but in the bitterness of his grief he -allowed to himself that he would have been contented even with so -much. But Mr. Creswell knew that his son was worse than stupid; that -he was bad, low in his tastes and associations, sordid and servile in -his heart, cunning, mean, and despicable. All the qualities which -should have distinguished him--gentlemanly bearing, refined manners, -cultivated tastes, generous impulses--all these he lacked: with a -desire for sharp practice, hard-heartedness, rudeness towards those -beneath him in the social scale, boorishness towards his equals, he -was overflowing. Lout that he was, he had not even reverence for his -father, had not even the decency to attempt to hide his badness, but -paraded it in the open day before the eyes of all, with a kind of -sullen pride. And that was to be the end of all Mr. Creswell's -plotting and planning, all his hard work and high hopes? For this he -had toiled, and slaved, and speculated? Many and many a bitter hour -did the old man pass shut away in the seclusion of his library, -thinking over the bright hopes which he had indulged in as regarded -his son's career, and the way in which they had been slighted, the -bright what might have been, the dim what was. Vainly the father would -endeavour to argue with himself, that the boy was as yet but a boy; -that when he became a man he would put away the things which were not -childish indeed, for then would there have been more hope, but bad, -and in the fulness of time develop into what had been expected of him. -Mr. Creswell knew to the contrary. He had watched his son for years -with too deep an interest not to have perceived that, as the years -passed away, the light lines in the boy's character grew dim and -faint, and the dark lines deepened in intensity. Year by year the boy -became harder, coarser, more calculating, and more avaricious. As a -child he had lent his pocket money out on usury to his schoolfellows, -and now he talked to his father about investments and interest in a -manner which would have pleased some parents and amused others, but -which brought anything but pleasure to Mr. Creswell as he marked the -keen hungry look in the boy's sunken eyes, and listened to his -half-framed and abortive but always sordid plans. - -Between father and son there was not the smallest bond of sympathy; -that, Mr. Creswell had brought himself to confess. How many score -times had he looked into the boy's face, hoping to see there some -gleam of filial love, and had turned away bitterly disappointed! How -often had he tried to engage the lad in topics of conversation which -he imagined would have been congenial to him, and on which he might -have suffered himself to be drawn out, but without the slightest -success! The jovial miller who lived upon the Dee was not one whit -less careless than Tom Creswell about the opinion which other folks -entertained of him, so long as you did not interfere with any of his -plans. Even the intended visit of Mrs. Ashurst and Marian to -Woolgreaves elicited very little remark from him, although the girls -imagined it might not be quite acceptable to him, and consulted -together as to how the news should be broken to the domestic bashaw. -After a great deal of cogitation and suggestion, it was decided -that the best plan would be to take the tyrant at a favourable -opportunity--at meal-time, for instance--and to approach the subject -in a light and airy manner, as though it were of no great consequence, -and was only mentioned for the sake of something to say. The plot thus -conceived was duly carried out two days afterwards, on an occasion -when, from the promptitude and agility with which he wielded his knife -and fork, and the stertorous grunts and lip-smackings which -accompanied his performance, it was rightly judged that Master Tom was -enjoying his dinner with an extra relish. Mr. Creswell was absent--he -seldom attended at the luncheon-table--and the girls interchanged a -nod of intelligence, and prepared to commence the play. They had had -but little occasion or opportunity for acting, and were consequently -nervous to a degree. - -"Did you see much of Mrs. Ashurst in--in poor Mr. Ashurst's time, at -the school, Tom?" commenced Gertrude, with a good deal of hesitation -and a profound study of her plate. - -"No, no, not much--quite enough!" returned Tom, without raising his -head. - -"Why quite enough, Tom?" came in Maude to the rescue. "She is a most -delightful woman, I'm sure." - -"Most charming," threw in Gertrude, a little undecidedly, but still in -support. - -"Ah, very likely," said Tom. "We didn't see much of her--the day-boys, -I mean; but Peacock and the other fellows who boarded at M. Ashurst's -declared she used to water the beer, and never sent back half the -fellows' towels and sheets when they left." - -"How disgraceful! how disgusting!" burst out Maude. "Mrs. Ashurst is a -perfect lady, and--oh, what wretches boys are!" - -"Screech away! I don't mind," said the philosophic Tom. "Only what's -up about this? What's the matter with old Mother Ashurst?" - -"Nothing is the matter with Mrs. Ashurst, your father's friend, Tom," -said Gertrude, trying a bit of dignity, and failing miserably therein, -for Gertrude was a lovable, kissable, Dresden-china style of beauty, -without a particle of dignity in her whole composition. "Mrs. Ashurst -is your father's friend, sir, at least the widow of his old friend, -and your father has asked her to come and stay here on a visit, -and--and we all hope you'll be polite to her." It was seldom that -Gertrude achieved such a long sentence, or delivered one with so much -force. It was quite plain that Mrs. Ashurst was a favourite of hers. - -"Oh," said Tom, "all right! Old Mother Ashurst's coming here on a -visit, is she? All right!" - -"And Miss Ashurst comes with her," said Maude. - -"Oh, Lord!" cried Tom Creswell. "Miss Prim coming too! That'll be a -clear saving of the governor's vinegar and olives all the time she's -here. She's a nice creature, she is!" - -And he screwed up his mouth with an air of excessive distaste. - -"Well, at all events, she's going to be your father's guest, and we -must all do our best to make the visit pleasant to them," said -Gertrude, who, like most people who are most proud of what they do -least well, thought she was playing dignity admirably. - -"Oh, I don't care!" said Tom. "If the governor likes to have them -here, and you two girls are so sweet upon them all of a sudden, I say, -all right. Only look here--no interference with me in any way. The -sight of me mustn't make the old lady break down and burst out -blubbering, or anything of that sort, and no asking me how I'm getting -on with my lessons, and that kind of thing. Stow that, mind!" - -"You needn't trouble yourself, I think," said Maude; "it is scarcely -likely that either Mrs. or Miss Ashurst will feel very keen interest -in you or your pursuits." - -And out of Maude's flashing eyes, and through Maude's tightly -compressed lips, the sarcasm came cutting like a knife. - -But when their visitors had been but a very short time established at -Woolgreaves, it became evident not merely to Mr. Creswell, but to all -in the house, that Master Tom had at last met with some one who could -exercise influence over him, and that some one was Marian Ashurst. It -was the treatment that did it. Tom had been alternately petted and -punished, scolded and spoiled, but he had never been turned into -ridicule before, and when Marian tried that treatment on him he -succumbed at once. He confessed he had always thought that "he could -not stand chaff," and now he knew it. Marian's badinage was, as might -be supposed, of a somewhat grave and serious order. Tom's bluntness, -uncouthness, avarice, and self-love were constantly betraying -themselves in his conversation and conduct, and each of them offered -an admirable target at which Marian fired telling shots. The girls -were at first astonished and then delighted, as was Mr. Creswell, who -had a faint hope that under the correction thus lightly administered -his son might be brought to see how objectionable were certain of his -views and proceedings. The lout himself did not like it at all. His -impossibility of standing "chaff," or of answering it, rendered him -for the first time a nonentity in the family circle; his voice, -usually loud and strident, was hushed whenever Marian came into the -room. The domestic atmosphere at Woolgreaves was far more pleasant -than it had been for some time, and Mr. Creswell thought that the -"sweet little girl" was not merely a "dead hand at a bargain," but -that she possessed the brute-taming power in a manner hitherto -undreamed of. Decidedly she was a very exceptional person, and more -highly gifted than any one would suppose. - -Tom hated her heartily, and chafed inwardly because he did not see his -way to revenging himself on her. He had not the wit to reply when -Marian turned him into ridicule, and he dared not answer her with mere -rudeness; so he remained silent and sulky, brooding over his rage, and -racking his brains to try and find a crack in his enemy's armour--a -vulnerable place. He found it at last, but, characteristically, took -no notice at the time, waiting for his opportunity. That came. One -day, after luncheon, when her mother had gone up for a quiet nap, and -the girls were practising duets in the music-room, Marian set out for -a long walk across the hard, dry, frost-covered fields to the village; -the air was brisk and bracing, and the girl was in better spirits than -usual. She thoroughly appreciated the refined comforts and the -luxurious living of Woolgreaves, and the conduct of the host and his -nieces towards her had been so perfectly charming, that she had almost -forgotten that her enjoyment of those luxuries was but temporary, and -that very shortly she would have to face the world in a worse position -than she had as yet occupied, and to fight the great battle of life, -too, for her mother and herself. Often in the evening, as she sat in -the drawing-room buried in the soft cushions of the sofa, dreamily -listening to the music which the girls were playing, lazily watching -her mother cosily seated in the chimney-corner, and old Mr. Creswell -by her, quietly beating time to the tune, the firelight flickering -over the furniture and appointments bespeaking wealth and comfort, she -would fall into a kind of half-trance, in which she would believe that -the great desire of her life had been accomplished, and that she was -rich--placed far above the necessity of toil or the torture of penury. -Nor was the dream ever entirely dispelled. The comfort and luxury were -there, and as to the term of her enjoyment, how could that be -prolonged? Her busy brain was filled with that idea this afternoon, -and so deeply was she in thought, that she scarcely started at a loud -crashing of branches close beside her, and only had time to draw back -as Tom Creswell's chestnut mare, with Tom Creswell on her back, landed -into the field beside her. - -"Good heavens, Tom, how you startled me!" cried Marian; "and what's -the matter with Kitty? She's covered with foam, and trembling all -over!" - -"I've been taking it out of the blunder-headed brute, that's all, Miss -Ashurst," said the lout, with a vicious dig of his spurs into the -mare's sides, which caused her to snort loudly and to rear on -end.--"Ah, would you, you brute?--She's got it in her head that she -won't jump to-day, and I'm showing her she will, and she must, if I -choose.--Stand still, now, and get your wind, d'ye hear?" And he threw -the reins on the mare's neck, and turned round in his saddle, facing -Marian. "I'm glad I've met you, Miss Ashurst," he continued, with a -very evil light in his sullen face, "for I've got something to say to -you, and I'm just in the mood to say it now." - -He looked so thoroughly vicious and despicable, that Marian's first -feeling of alarm changed into disgust as she looked at him and said-- - -"What is it, Tom?--say on!" - -"Oh, I intend to," said the lout, with a baleful grin. "I intend to -say on, whether you like it or not. I've waited a precious long time, -and I intend to speak now. Look here. You've had a fine turn at me, -you have! Chaffin' me, and pokin' your fun at me, and shuttin' me up -whenever I spoke. You're doosid clever, you are, and so sharp, and all -that; and I'm such a fool, I am, but I've found out your game for all -that!" - -"My game, Tom! Do you know what you're talking about, and to whom you -are talking?" - -"Oh, don't I! That's just it. I'm talking to Miss Marian Ashurst, and -Miss Marian Ashurst's game is moneymaking! Lord bless you, they know -all about it down in the village--the Crokes, and the Whichers, and -them, they're full of stories of you when you was a little girl, and -they all know you're not changed now. But look here, keep it to -yourself, or take it away from our place. Don't try it on here. It's -quite enough to have those two girls saddled on the family, but they -are relations, and that's some excuse. We don't want any more, mark -that. My father's getting old now, and he's weak, and don't see things -so clearly as he did, but I do. I see why your mother's got hold of -those girls, and how you're trying to make yourself useful to the -governor. I heard you offering to go through the Home-Farm accounts -the other day." - -"I offered because your--because---- Oh, Tom, how dare you! You -wicked, wicked boy!" - -"Oh yes, I know, very likely; but I won't let any one interfere with -me. You thought you were going to settle yourself on us. I don't -intend it. I'm a boy--all right; but I know how to get my own way, and -I means to have it. This hot-tempered brute" (pointing to the pony) -"has found that out, and you'll find it out, too, before I have done -with you. That's all.--Get on, now!" - -The pony sprang into the air as he gave her a savage cut with his -whip, and he rode off, leaving Marian in an agony of shame and rage. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -A REMOVAL. - - -Some few minutes passed before Marian felt sufficiently recovered to -move. The attack had been so unexpected and so brutal that she would -have been perfectly paralysed by it even if the words which the boy -had used had been the outpourings of mere random savagery, instead -of, as they evidently were, the result of premeditated and planned -insult--insult grounded on hate, and hate springing from fear. -Marian's quick intelligence made that plain to her in a moment. The -boy feared her, feared that she might obtain an ascendancy over -his father, and get the old gentleman to advance money to Mrs. -Ashurst--money that ought not to go out of the family, and should be -his at his father's death--or perhaps fancied she was scheming to -quarter herself at Woolgreaves, and---- Good heavens, could he have -thought that! Why, the idea had never crossed her mind. She dismissed -it at once, not without a half smile at the notion of the retribution -she could inflict, at the thought that the boy had suggested to her -what might be such a punishment for himself as she had never dreamed -of. - -She walked on quickly, communing with herself. So they had found her -out, had they? Tom's blurted warning was the first intimation she had -had that what she knew to be the guiding purpose of her life, the -worship of, love for, intended acquisition of money, was suspected by -any, known to any one else. No syllable on the subject, either -jestingly or reproachfully, had ever been breathed to her before. It -was not likely that she would have heard of it. Her father had -considered her to be perfect; her mother had set down all her small -economies, scrapings, and hoardings which were practised in the -household to Marian's "wonderful management;" and however the feminine -portion of the Whicher and Croke families might talk among themselves, -their respect for the schoolmaster and their dread of Marian's powers -of retort always effectually prevented them from dropping any hints at -the schoolhouse. So Marian heard it now for the first time. Yet there -was nothing in it to be ashamed of, she thought; if her poor father -had been guided by this sentiment his life might have been perhaps -preserved, and certainly an immense amount of misery would have been -spared to them all. Love of money, a desire to acquire wealth,--who -should reproach her for that? Not Mr. Creswell, of whose good opinion -she seemed to think first, for had not his whole life been passed in -the practice, and was not his present position the result, the example -to which she could point in defence of her creed? Not Maude or -Gertrude Creswell, who if they had possessed the smallest spark of -independence would have been earning their bread as companions or -governesses. Not the people of the village, who---- Yes, by Tom's -account they did talk of her; but what then? What the people in the -village thought or said about her had never been of the smallest -interest to Marian Ashurst when she lived among them, and was brought -into daily communion with them; it was therefore not likely that she -would take much heed of it now, as she had made up her mind that she -and her mother must go and live in another place, far away from all -old scenes and associations, when they left Woolgreaves. - -When they left Woolgreaves! Hitherto she had not bestowed much thought -upon that necessarily closely approaching event, but now she turned -her attention to it. Under ordinary circumstances, even if things had -gone on pleasantly as heretofore, if their stay had been made as -comfortable to them, the attention of Mr. Creswell and his nieces had -been as great, and the general desire for them to remain as obvious, -they would have had in common decency to propose some date for the -expiration of their visit. And now that Tom, who had hitherto been -only a negative nuisance, developed into a positive enemy, it was -doubly necessary that they should take precaution not to outstay their -welcome. Yes, they must go! Give up all the comforts and luxury, the -fine airy rooms, the bedroom fires, the carriage drives, the good -living, the wine, and attention, all of which combined had done Mrs. -Ashurst so much good, and rendered her stronger and sounder than she -had been for years--all these must be given up, and they must go away -to poky, stivy lodgings, with dirt and discomfort of every kind; with -wretched cooking which would turn her mother sick, and the attendance -of a miserable maid-of-all-work, who would not understand any of their -ways, and the perpetual presence of penury and want making itself felt -every hour of their lives. The picture was so horrible, so repugnant -to Marian, that she determined not to let it engross her thoughts in -anticipation; it would be quite sufficient to cope with when it came, -and she should require all her energies fresh and untaxed for the -encounter. So she walked briskly on, and as she had now reached the -village her attention was soon quickly absorbed by the greetings which -she received, and the talk in which she had to take part. - -The first greetings were from Mr. Benthall. Marian had determined that -she would not go down Southwood Lane, which led to the schoolhouse, as -she had no desire of encountering either master or boys in her then -mood. She had not been near the school since she and her mother left -the house, and she had arranged in her mind a little farewell on her -part to both when she left the village. And now here was Mr. Benthall -advancing straight towards her, and there was no possibility of -escape, as she remembered that it was the Saturday half-holiday, and -that she should probably have to run the gauntlet of a score of -friends. Mr. Benthall was a brisk, lively, agreeable man, with -cheerfulness and pleasant manners, and plenty of small talk. He was, -moreover, a gentleman and a man of the world, and he knew exactly how -to pitch the key of his conversation to a young lady, the daughter of -his predecessor, who might or might not--Mr. Benthall's experience of -human nature told him might, and probably would--feel somewhat -antipathetic towards him. So Mr. Benthall talked of Mrs. Ashurst, and -of Mr. Creswell, and of the young ladies, and of Tom. "My friend -Trollope's young charge," as Mr. Benthall spoke of him, with a -somewhat malicious sparkle in his eye. And the weather was quite cold, -was it not? and the frost had set in quite early, had it not? And Miss -Ashurst was looking so blooming that Mr. Benthall had no need to ask -her how she was, which was, indeed, the reason why he had not done so -long since, but must beg her to take charge of his kindest compliments -for her mother and the young ladies and Mr. Creswell. And Mr. Benthall -had taken off his well-brushed hat, and had skipped across the road in -his well-brushed, shapely boots, and Marian was contrasting him with -that figure which was ever present to her memory--her father, bowed, -and shrunken, and slatternly, and ill-dressed--when she heard her -Christian name called aloud, and Dr. Osborne, in his little -four-wheeled pony-carriage, drew up by her side. - -"Well, Princess!" said the cheery old medico; "for since I have made -you hear I may as well address you by your title--well, Princess, how -goes it?" - -"It goes very well indeed, dear Dr. Osborne," said Marian, returning -his hand-pressure. "But why Princess?" - -"Why Princess! What lower rank could a girl be who lives in a palace, -over there, I mean, with 'vassals and slaves by her side,' as I've -heard my girl sing years ago, and all that kind of thing?" - -"But surely only a princess of the Cinderella style, my dear doctor; -only enjoying the vassals and the slaves, and what you call 'that kind -of thing,' for a very limited time. Twelve o'clock must strike very -soon, dear old friend, in our case, and then this princess will go -back to the pots and kettles, and cinder-sifting, and a state of life -worse than ever she has known before." - -"God forbid, my dear!" said the doctor seriously. "Which way are you -going--back again to Woolgreaves? All right. I'm driving that road, -and I'll set you down at the gates. Jump in, child. I wanted a few -minutes' talk with you, and this has just happened luckily; we can -have it without any interruption." - -He stretched out his hand and helped Marian into the seat by his side; -then gave the brisk little pony his head, and they rattled cheerily -along. - -"Let me see, my dear, what was I saying?" said the doctor, after the -silence of a few minutes. "By the way, I think I ought to have called -in the village to see little Pickering, who's in for measles, I -suspect. I must start a memorandum-book, my memory is beginning to -fail me. What was I saying, my dear?" - -"You were saying that you wanted to talk to me--about Woolgreaves, I -think it must have been." - -"About Woolgreaves--the palace, as I called it--oh yes, that was it. -See here, child; I'm the oldest friend you have in the world, and I -hope one of the truest; and I want you to answer my questions -frankly, and without reserve, just as if I were your father, you -know." - -"I will do so," said Marian, after a faint flutter at her heart, -caused by the notion of the little doctor, good little soul as he was, -comparing himself with her dead father. - -"That's right," said Dr. Osborne. "I knew you almost before you came -into the world, and that gives me some right to your confidence. Now, -then, are you happy at Woolgreaves?" - -Marian hesitated a moment before she replied: "Happier than I thought -I could have been--yet." - -"Ah, that's right, and straightforward. Mind, in all these questions -I'm alluding to you, not to your mother. I know her--charming lady, -affectionate, and all that, but clinging and unreasoning, likes to lie -where she falls, and so on; whereas you've got a head on your -shoulders, finely developed and--so on. Now, are they all kind to you -at Woolgreaves? Old gentleman kind?" - -"Most kind!" - -"Of course he is. Never was a man so full of heart as he is. If he had -only been at home when your poor father--ah, well, that's no matter -now." - -"What's that you said, Dr. Osborne--that about my father?" - -"Stupid old fool to go blundering into such a subject! Why couldn't I -have let it alone? 'Let the dead past bury its dead.' What's that I've -heard my girl sing?" the old gentleman muttered to himself. Then -aloud, "Nothing, my dear. I was only thinking that if Mr. Creswell had -been at home just at the time I dare say we might have made some -arrangement, and had Godby down from St. Vitus, and then----" - -"And then my father need not have died for the want of a hundred and -thirty guineas! Oh, don't think I forget." And there came into the -girl's face the hard, stony, rigid look which Dr. Osborne remembered -there so well on the night of her father's death, six months before. - -"Well," said the little doctor, laying the whip across his knee and -blowing his nose so loudly that the pony shied at the noise--"well, -well, dear, Mr. Creswell's absence at that particular time was, to say -the least of it, unfortunate; we may say that. Now, what about the -girls; are they kind?" - -"Very, in their way." - -"Good!" said the little doctor, bringing his hand down with a ringing -slap on the chaise-apron, "I like that! Dry--deuced dry. Like your -poor father, that. 'In their way.' Ha, ha I understand. Their way is -not much yours?" - -"They are very good-tempered and polite, and press one to eat and -drink a great deal, and hand chairs and footstools, and always sing -when they are asked. And," added Marian, after a moment's pause, and -under a fear that she had been unduly cynical, "and they are most -attentive and affectionate to mamma." - -"I am delighted to hear that, for that's just as it should be, just as -one would have wished it to turn out. Oh yes, quite ladies, with all -the feelings and perceptions of ladies, and talking to your mother -nicely, and so on. Not too bright--not to be compared with you or my -girl. Ah, there would have been a companion for you, my dear; all -soul, and such an arm for the harp, but married to the coastguard in -Dorsetshire!--but still nice girls. Well, I'm glad you give me this -account, my dear, for it suits exactly the suggestion I was about to -make. But before I made it I wanted to be quite sure of your position -at Woolgreaves, and to know for certain that you were liked by all the -family." - -"You are not certain of that yet, doctor. There is one of the family -about whom you have made no inquiry." - -"One of the family--at Woolgreaves? Oh, by Jove, Tom--Master Tom! I -recollect now--a most important personage in his own esteem, and -really some one to be thought of in such a matter as this. And how -does Master Tom behave to you?" - -"Like a--like a scoundrel!" cried Marian, her eyes flashing, and all -the colour ablaze in her cheeks: "He has been, ever since we have been -there, either rude and rough, or sulky and unpleasant; but to-day, -just before I saw you, not an hour ago, he met me in the fields, and -insulted me in the grossest manner; talked about our poverty, and -hinted that--hinted----" and the remainder of the sentence was lost in -a burst of tears. - -"Happy hit of mine, that," muttered the doctor to himself. "I seem to -be distinguishing myself to-day. Young ruffian, that Tom. He shall -have a pretty dose next time I'm sent for to him, I'll take -care.--Come, my dear, then, you must not mind; he's only a boy--a rude -beastly boy, with no manners, and no heart either, and not much chest -or stomach, for the matter of that. You must not mind him. It's a pity -he's not nice to you, because he has a certain power in that house; -and if he were to pronounce himself as decidedly in opposition to the -little scheme I had in my mind, and about which I was going to talk to -you, it is very probable it might fall to the ground. But there are -various ways of getting over objectionable boys. Lord bless me! in my -time I've taken boys into the surgery, and brought them round by a -handful of acidulated drops, and have tamed the most refractory by a -Tolu lozenge." - -"I scarcely think that Tom Creswell is to be bought over on such easy -terms," said Marian, with a faint and weary smile. "But, doctor, what -was the suggestion you were about to make?" - -"Simply this, my dear: That instead of your removing into Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings, which are by no means suited for you, and where I -should be very sorry to see you, or into any lodging at all, -you should--when I say you, I mean, of course, you and Mrs. -Ashurst--should remain at Woolgreaves." - -"Remain at Woolgreaves? For how long?" - -"Well, as romantic or thoughtless people say, 'for ever;' at all -events, until the condition of each of you is changed--by different -means, let us hope." - -"And under what conditions is this scheme to be realised? I suppose -Mr. Creswell would scarcely take us in as boarders at Woolgreaves, -doctor?" - -"No, my dear child, no. You are pleased to be satirical, but I am in -earnest. That the labourer is worthy of his hire is a principle that -has been recognised for centuries; and you shall labour, and for hire. -See here, this is how the thought first came into my head. Mrs. Caddy, -the housekeeper at Woolgreaves, a very worthy woman, has been ailing -of late, and came to consult me last week. Our climate don't do for -her. She's a little touched in the chest, and must get away further -south for the winter. I told her so plainly, and she didn't seem at -all uncomfortable about it. Her friends live in Devonshire, and she's -saved a good bit of money, I should think, since she's been in Mr. -Creswell's service. All that seemed to worry her was what they would -do at Woolgreaves without her. She harped upon this several times, and -at last a ray of light seemed to break upon her as she asked why her -place should not be taken by 't' young girl, schoolmaster's -daughter?'" - -"Dear me! Mrs. Caddy's place taken by me?" - -"By you. It was an irreverent way to speak of you, Marian my dear, -I'll admit, but there was no irreverence intended. Mrs. Caddy, once -set going, launched out into an interminable list of your special -virtues. There never was a girl who 'cottoned' so completely to her -style of pickling and preserving; there never was a girl who so -intuitively grasped the great secret of making cherry-brandy, or who -so quickly perceived the shortcomings of the still-room maid in the -matter. And this talk of the worthy woman's gave me an idea." - -"The same idea as Mrs. Caddy's?" - -"The same, with a difference. Mrs. Caddy's was preposterous, mine is -possible. And mine is this: When Mrs. Caddy goes, let it be understood -that Mrs. Ashurst has consented to superintend the Woolgreaves -household. There would be nothing derogatory in the position; all with -whom she would be brought in contact would take care of that; and -though she would not have the least qualification for the post, poor -woman--no affront to you, my dear, but she wouldn't--you would be able -to keep all smooth, and take care that everything went straight." - -"But even such an establishment as Woolgreaves would not require two -housekeepers, doctor?" - -"Of course it would not," said the old gentleman, pleased to see by -Marian's brightening face that the proposition was not so disagreeable -to her. "Of course it would not. Mrs. Ashurst would be the responsible -housekeeper, while your position as companion to the young ladies -could be very easily defined, and would be very readily understood. Do -you like the plan?" - -All the details of the proposition rushed through her mind before she -spoke. Home-comforts, luxury, good living, warmth, care, attention, -money, or at least the command if not the possession of money, that is -what it meant, instead of a wretched lodging, a starveling income, -penury, and perhaps, so far as certain necessaries for her mother were -concerned, want. What would they sacrifice? Not freedom--they had -never had it; and if their lives were still to be passed in drudgery, -it would, at all events, be better to be the drudge of a kind old man -and two insignificant girls, than of a set of rackety schoolboys, as -they had hitherto been. Position? No sacrifice there; the respect -always paid to them was paid to them as James Ashurst's wife and -daughter, and that respect they would still continue to receive. All -in the village knew them, the state of their finances, the necessity -of their availing themselves of any opportunity for bettering their -condition which might present itself; and out of the village they had -but few acquaintances, and none for whose opinion they had the least -care. So Marian, with beaming eyes and heightened colour, said-- - -"Yes, dear old friend, frankly, I _do_ like the plan. If it were -carried out an immense load of anxiety would be removed from my mind -respecting mamma's immediate future, you know, and it would suit our -circumstances in various ways. Is it possible? How can it be brought -about?" - -"You are as prompt as ever, Marian," said the doctor, smiling. "I -never saw a girl retain so many of her childish characteristics." -Marion winced a little as he said this, remembering Tom's remarks that -afternoon on her childish character as depicted by Mesdames Whicher -and Croke. "Yes, I think it is perfectly feasible, and it can be -brought about by me. Mr. Creswell, having known me for many years, and -believing that I never advise him but for his good, is always ready to -listen to any advice I give him, and if I judge rightly, will be -already predisposed to agree with this proposition, and to take it as -though you and your mamma were conferring a favour on him rather -than---- Dear me, look at this foolish fellow coming towards us at -full gallop! The man must be drunk.--Hallo, sir; hi, hallo!--Why, it's -one of the Woolgreaves grooms, isn't it? I think I know the man's -appearance.--Hallo, sir, hi! what is it?" and the little doctor pulled -the chaise close into the left bank, and stood up, waving his whip, -and shouting lustily. - -The horseman, who was urging his horse to yet faster speed, paid no -attention to the shouts, and contented himself by rising in his -stirrups and waving his hand as though bespeaking a clear way, until -he came close upon the chaise, when he apparently recognised its -occupants, and strove to pull up his horse. With some difficulty, and -not until he had shot past them, he succeeded; then turning back, he -cried out-- - -"Dr. Osborne, I was going for you, sir. For God's sake, drive up to -the house at once--you're wanted awful bad!" - -"What is it?" asked the doctor.--"Quiet, my child, don't be alarmed; -don't shake so.--There is nothing happened to your master?" - -"No, sir; Master Tom." - -"What of him--taken ill?" - -"No, sir--chucked off the chestnut mare, and took up for dead in the -Five Acres. Ben Pennington was bird-scarin' close by, and he see the -accident and hollered out, and gave the alarm. And some of the -farm-men came and got a hurdle, and put Master Tom on it and carried -him up to the house. Master see 'em coming, and ran out, and would -have fell down when he see who it was, but they caught hold of him; -and they say he's like a madman now, and Miss Maude, she told me to -come after you. Make haste, sir, please. Hadn't you better jump on -this mare, sir? she'll carry you quicker nor that cob of yourn, and -I'll drive Miss Ashurst home." - -"Not for any money," said the doctor; "get on that horse, indeed! -There'd be another accident, and no one to be of any assistance. I -shall be up at the house in a very few minutes; ride on and say I'm -coming.--Lord, my dear, fancy such an interruption to our -conversation--such a bombshell bursting over the castle we were -building in the air!" - - -"The doctor wishes to speak to you, miss, outside master's door," said -Mrs. Caddy, in that hissing whisper which servants always assume in a -house of sickness. "He didn't say anything about Master Tom, but his -face is as white as white, and----" - -"Thanks, Mrs. Caddy; I'd better go at once;" and Marian left the -dining-room, where she had been doing her best to calm her mother's -agitation, which expressed itself in sparse tears, and head-shakings, -and deep-drawn sighs, and flutterings of her feeble hands, and -ascended the stairs. As she gained the landing, the little doctor, who -had evidently been on the watch, came out of a bedroom, shutting the -door cautiously behind him, and hastening to her, took her hand and -led her into the recess of a bay-window, round which was a luxurious -ottoman. - -When they had seated themselves, Marian broke silence. - -"You have examined him, doctor? You know the worst?" - -"I say nothing about the worst, my dear, as I just told our old -friend; that is not for us to say. Poor boy! he is in a very bad way, -there's no disguising that. It's a case of fracture of the skull, with -compression of the brain--a very bad case indeed!" - -"Does he know what has happened? Has he given any explanation of the -accident?" - -"None. He is insensible, and likely to remain so for some time. Now, -my dear, you're the handiest person in the house, and the one with -your wits most about you. This poor lad will have to be trepanned--ah! -you don't understand what that is; how should you?--I mean, will have -to be operated upon before he gets any relief. Under the -circumstances, I don't choose to take the responsibility of that -operation on myself, and, with Mr. Creswell's consent, I've -telegraphed to London for one of our first surgeons to come down and -operate. He will bring a professional nurse with him, but they cannot -arrive until the mail at two in the morning, and as I must go down to -the surgery for two or three little matters, and see some of my -patients tucked up for the night, I intend leaving you in charge of -that room. You have nothing to do but to keep everybody else--except, -of course, Mr. Creswell--out of the room. You must not be frightened -at Tom's heavy breathing, or any little restlessness he may show. -That's all part of the case. Now, my child, be brave, and so good -night for the present." - -"Good night, doctor. Oh, one minute. You said you had telegraphed for -a London surgeon. What is his name? - -"What on earth makes you ask that, you inquisitive puss?" said the old -gentleman, with a smile. "Have you any choice among London surgeons? -His name is Godby--Godby of St. Vitus!" - - -Godby of St. Vitus! That was the name. She remembered it at once. The -man for whom Dr. Osborne had telegraphed to come and see her father, -or rather would have sent for, but for the amount of his fee. Good -God, what a contrast between that sick room and this! The boy had been -carried into his father's bedroom, as nearer and larger than his own; -and as Marian looked around on every side, her glance fell on signs of -comfort and luxury. The room was very large, lit by a broad bay -window, with a splendid view of the surrounding country; the walls -were hung with exquisite proof-prints in oaken frames, a table in the -centre was covered with books and periodicals, while on a smaller -table close by the bed was a plate piled with splendid grapes. The bed -itself, with fresh bright chintz curtains hanging over it, and a rich -eider-down quilt thrown on it, stood in a recess, and on it lay the -suffering lad, giving no sign of life save his deep, heavy, stertorous -breathing, and occasional restless motion of the limbs. How vividly -the other room rose to her memory! She saw the ugly panelled walls, -with the cracking, blistering paint, and knew the very spots from -which it had been worn off. She saw the old-fashioned, lumbering -bedstead, and the moreen curtains tied round each sculptured post. She -remembered the roseate flush which the sunlight shed over the face of -her dying father, the hopeless expression which remained there when -the light had faded away. It was money, only money, that made the very -wide difference between the two cases, and money could do anything. -Money was fetching this clever surgeon from London, who would probably -save the life of this wretched boy. What was the value of a life like -this as compared to her father's? But, for the want of money, that -sacred life had been suffered to pass away. Thoughts like these -crowded on her brain, and worked her up to a pitch of feverish -excitement during the early part of the night. She had plenty of time -for reflection, for she had become accustomed to the regular heavy -breathing of the patient, and no one entered the room save Mr. -Creswell, who would sit for an hour together by his boy's bedside, and -then, watch in hand, get up and murmur piteously: "Will the night -never go! Will the man never come!" - -"The man," Mr. Godby, principal surgical lecturer and demonstrator at -St. Vitus's Hospital, was coming as fast as the mail-train could bring -him. Unlike most of his brethren, he was essentially a man of the -world, fond of studying all sorts and conditions of men, and with all -his enormous practice finding time for society, theatres, music, and -literature of all kinds. He was engaged out to dinner that day--to a -very pleasant little dinner, where he was to have met the -private secretary of a Cabinet minister, a newspaper editor, a -portrait-painter, a duke, and a clerk in an insurance office, who gave -wonderful imitations. The hostess was a French actress, and the -cooking would have been perfect. So Mr. Godby shook his head very -mournfully over the Helmingham telegram, and had he not held his old -friend Osborne in great respect, and wished to do him a service, he -would have refused to obey its mandate. As it was, he resigned himself -to his fate, and arrived, chilled to the bone, but bright-eyed and -ready-witted, at Woolgreaves at two in the morning. He shook his head -when he saw the patient, and expressed to Dr. Osborne his doubt of the -efficacy of trepanning, but he proposed to operate at once. - - -"It's all over, mother," said Marian to Mrs. Ashurst, the next -morning. "Mr. Godby was right; poor Tom never rallied, and sank at -seven this morning." - -"God help his poor father!" said the old lady, through her tears; "he -has nothing left him now." - -"Nothing!" said Marian; then added, half unconsciously--"except his -money! except his money!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. -LIFE AT WESTHOPE. - - -"Tea, my lady!" - -"Very well. Tell Lady Caroline---- Oh, here you are! I was just -sending to tell you that tea was ready. I saw you come in from your -ride before the curtains were drawn." - -"Did you? Then you must have seen a pretty draggletailed spectacle. -I've caked my habit with mud and torn it into shreds, and generally -distinguished myself." - -"Did Mr. Biscoe blush?" - -"Not a bit of it. Mr. Biscoe's a good specimen of a hard-riding -parson, and seemed to like me the better the muddier and more torn I -became. By the way, his wife is coming to dinner, isn't she? so I must -drop my flirtation with the rector, and be on my best behaviour." - -"Caroline, you are too absurd; the idea of flirting with a man like -that!" - -"Well, then, why don't you provide some one better for me? I declare, -Margaret, you are ignorant of the simplest duties of hospitality! I -can't flirt with West, because he's my brother, for one reason, and -because you mightn't like it, perhaps, and because I mightn't care -about it myself much. And there's no one else in the house who---- Oh, -by the way, I'll speak about that just now--who else is coming to -dinner?" - -"Some people from the barracks--Colonel Tapp, and Mr. Frampton, the -man who hunted through all those papers the other day to find the -paragraph you asked him about, don't you know; a Mr. Boyd, a -good-looking fair-haired boy, with an eyeglass, one of the Ross-shire -Boyds, who is reading somewhere in the neighbourhood with a tutor; the -Biscoes, the Porters--people who live at those iron gates with the -griffins which I showed you; and--I don't know--two or three others." - -"Oh, heavens, what a cheerful prospect! I hate the army, and I detest -good-looking boys with eyeglasses; and I've been all day with Mr. -Biscoe, and I don't know the griffin people, nor the two or three -others. Look here, Margaret, why don't you ask Mr. Joyce to dinner?" - -"Mr. Joyce? I don't know---- Good heavens, Caroline, you don't mean -Lord Hetherington's secretary?" - -"I do indeed, Margaret--why shouldn't I? He is quite nice and -gentlemanly, and has charming eyes." - -"Caroline, I wonder at your talking such nonsense. You ought to know -me sufficiently----" - -"And you ought to know me sufficiently to understand there's nothing -on earth I detest like being bored. I shall be bored out of my life by -any of the people you have mentioned, while I'm sure I should find -some amusement in Mr. Joyce." - -"You might probably find a great deal of amusement in Norton, the -steward, or in William, my footman; but you would scarcely wish me to -ask them to dinner?" - -"I think not--not in William, at all events. There is a dull decorum -about Mr. Norton which one might find some fun in bearing----" - -"Caroline, be quiet; you are _impayable_. Are you really serious in -what you say about Mr. Joyce?" - -"Perfectly--why not? I had some talk with him in the library the other -day, and found him most agreeable." - -"Well, then, I will send and say we expect him; will that satisfy you? - -"No, certainly not! Seriously, Margaret, for one minute. You know that -I was only in fun, and that it cannot matter one atom to me whether -this young man is asked to join your party or not. Only, if you _do_ -ask him, don't send. You know the sort of message which the footman -would deliver, no matter what formula had been intrusted to him; and I -should be very sorry to think that Mr. Joyce, or any other gentleman, -should be caused a mortification through any folly of mine." - -"Perhaps you think I ought to go to him and offer him a verbal -invitation?" - -"Certainly, if you want him at all--I mean, if you intend asking him -to dinner. You'll be sure to find him in the library. Now, I'm dying -to get rid of this soaked habit and this clinging skirt! So I'm off to -dress." - -And Lady Caroline Mansergh gave her sister-in-law a short nod, and -left the room. - -Left alone, Lady Hetherington took a few minutes to recover herself. -Her sister-in-law Caroline had always been a spoiled child, and -accustomed to have her own way in the old home, in her own house when -she married Mr. Mansergh--the richest, idlest, kindest old gentleman -that ever slept in St. Stephen's first and in Glasnevin Cemetery -scarcely more soundly afterwards--and generally everywhere since she -had lost him. But she had been always remarkable for particularly -sound sense, and had a manner of treating objectionably pushing people -which succeeded in keeping them at a distance better even than the -frigid hauteur which Lady Hetherington indulged in. The countess knew -this, and, acknowledging it in her inmost heart, felt that she could -make no great mistake in acceding to her sister-in-law's wishes. -Moreover, she reflected, after all it was a mere small country-house -dinner that day; there was no one expected about whose opinion she -particularly cared; and as the man was domiciled in the house, was -useful to Lord Hetherington, and was presentable, it was only right to -show him some civility. - -So, after leaving the drawing-room on her way to dress for dinner, -Lady Hetherington crossed the hall to the library, and at the far end -of the room saw Mr. Joyce at work, under a shaded lamp. She went -straight up to him, and was somewhat amused at finding that he, either -not hearing her entrance, or imagining that it was merely some servant -with a message, never raised his head, but continued grinding away at -his manuscript. - -"Mr. Joyce!" said her ladyship, slightly bending forward. - -"Hey?" replied the scribe, in whose ear the tones, always haughty -and imperious, however she might try to soften them, rang like a -trumpet-call. "I beg your pardon, Lady Hetherington," he added, rising -from his seat; "I had no idea you were in the room." - -"Don't disturb yourself, Mr. Joyce; I only looked in to say that we -have a few friends coming to dinner tonight, and it will afford Lord -Hetherington and myself much pleasure if you will join us." - -"I shall be most happy," said Mr. Joyce. - -And then Lady Hetherington returned his bow, and he preceded her down -the room, and opened the door to let her pass. - -"As if he'd been a squire of dames from his cradle," said her ladyship -to herself. "The man has good hands, I noticed, and there was no -awkwardness about him." - -"What does this mean?" said Walter Joyce, when he reached his own room -and was dressing for dinner. "These people have been more civil than I -could have expected them to be to a man in my position, and Lord -Hetherington especially has been kindness itself; but they have always -treated me as what I am--'his lordship's secretary.' Whence this new -recognition? One comfort is that, thanks to old Jack Byrne's -generosity, I can make a decent appearance at their table. I laughed -when he insisted on providing me with dress-clothes, but he knew -better. 'They can't do you any harm, my boy,' I recollect his saying, -'and they may do you some good;' and now I see how right he was. Fancy -my going into society, and beginning at this phase of it I wonder -whether Marian would be pleased? I wonder----" - -And he sat down on the edge of his bed and fell into a dreamy -abstracted state; the effect caused by Marian's last long letter was -upon him yet. He had answered it strongly--far more strongly than he -had ever written to her before--pointing out that, at the outset, they -had never imagined that life's path was to be made smooth and easy to -them; they had always known that they would have to struggle; and that -it was specially unlike her to fold her hands and beg for the -unattainable, simply because she saw it in the possession of other -people. "She dared not tell him how little hope for the future she -had." That was a bad sign indeed. In their last parting walk round the -garden of the old schoolhouse at Helmingham she had hinted something -of this, and he thought he had silenced her on the point; but her want -of hope, her abnegation of interest, was now much more pronounced; and -against such a feeling he inveighed with all the strength and power of -his honest soul. If she gave in, what was to become of him, whose -present discomforts were only made bearable by anticipation of the -time when he would have her to share his lot? - -"And after all, Marian," he had said in conclusion, "what does it all -mean? This money for which you wish so much--I find the word studding -every few lines of your letter--this splendour, luxury, comfort--call -it by what name you will--what does it all mean?--who benefits by it? -Not the old gentleman who has passed his life in slaving for the -acquisition of wealth! As I understand from you, his wife is dead, and -his son almost estranged from him. Is this the end of it? If you could -see his inmost heart, is he not pining for the woman who stood by his -side during the conflict, and does he not feel the triumph empty and -hollow without her to share it with him? Would he not sooner have his -son's love and trust and confidence than the conservatory and the -carriages and the splendour on which you dwell so rapturously? If you -could know all, you would learn that the happiest time of his life was -when he was striving in company with her he loved, and that the end -now attained, however grand it may be, however above his original -anticipations, is but poor and vain now she is not there to share it -with him. Oh, Marian, my heart's darling, think of this, and be -assured of its truth! So long as we love each other, so long as the -sincerity of that love gives us confidence in each other, all will be -well, and it will be impossible to shut out hope. It is only when a -shadow crosses that love--a catastrophe which seems impossible, but -which we should pray God to avert--that hope can in the smallest -degree diminish. Marian, my love, my life, think of this as I place it -before you! We are both young, both gifted with health and strength -and powers of endurance. If we fight the battle side by side, if we -are not led away by envy and induced to fix the standard of our -desires too high, we shall, we _must_ succeed in attaining what we -have so often hopefully discussed--the happiness of being all in all -to each other, and leading our lives together, 'for better for worse, -for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us -part.' I confess I can imagine no greater bliss--can you?" - -He had had no answer to this letter, but that had not troubled him -much. He knew that Marian was not fond of correspondence, that in her -last letter she had given a full account of her new life, and that she -could have but little to say; and he was further aware that a certain -feeling of pride would prevent her from too readily indorsing his -comments on her views. That she agreed with those comments, or that -they would commend themselves to her natural sound sense on -reflection, he had no doubt; and he was content to await calmly the -issue of events. - -The party assembled were waiting the announcement of dinner in the -library, and when Joyce entered the room Lord Hetherington left the -rug where he had been standing with two other gentlemen, and, -advancing towards his secretary, took his hand and said-- - -"I am glad her ladyship has persuaded you to come out of seclusion, -Mr. Joyce. Too much--what is it?--books, and work, and that kind of -thing, is--is--the deuce, in point of fact!" And then his lordship -went back to the rug, and Joyce having received a sufficiently distant -bow from Lady Hetherington, retreated into a darkish corner of the -room, into which the flickering firelight did not penetrate, and -glanced around him. - -Lady Hetherington looked splendidly handsome, he thought. She was -dressed in maroon-coloured velvet, the hues of which lit up -wonderfully in the firelight, and showed her classically shaped head -and head-dress of velvet and black lace. Joyce had read much of -Juno-looking women, but he had never realised the idea until he gazed -upon that calm, majestic, imperious face, so clearly cold in outline, -those large, solemnly radiant eyes, that splendidly moulded figure. -The man who was bending over her chair as he addressed her--not -deferentially, as Joyce felt that (not from her rank, but rather her -splendid beauty) she should be addressed; on the contrary, rather -flippantly--had a palpable curly wig, shaved cheeks, waxed moustache, -and small white hands, which he rubbed gently together in front of -him. He was Colonel Tapp, a Crimean hero, a very Paladin in war, but -who had been worn by time, not into slovenry, but into coxcombry. Mr. -Biscoe, the rector of the parish--a big, broad-shouldered, bull-headed -man, with clean-cut features, wholesome complexion, and breezy -whiskers: excellent parson as well as good cross-country man, and as -kind of heart as keen at sport--stood by her ladyship's side, and -threw an occasional remark into the conversation. Joyce could not see -Lady Caroline Mansergh, but he heard her voice coming from a recess in -the far side of the fireplace, and mingled with its bright, ringing -Irish accent came the deep growling bass of Captain Frampton, adjutant -of the depot battalion, and a noted amateur singer. The two gentlemen -chatting with Lord Hetherington on the rug were magnates of the -neighbourhood, representatives of county families centuries old. Mr. -Boyd, a very good-looking young gentleman, with crisp wavy hair and -pink-and-white complexion, was staring hard at nothing through his -eyeglass, and wondering whether he could fasten one of his studs, -which had come undone, without any one noticing him; and Mr. Biscoe -was in conversation with a foxy-looking gentleman with sunken eyes, -sharp nose, and keen, gleaming teeth, in whom Joyce recognised Mr. -Gould, Lord Hetherington's London agent, who was in the habit of -frequently running down on business matters, and whose room was always -kept ready for him. - -Dinner announced and general movement of the company. At the table -Joyce found himself seated by Lady Caroline Mansergh, her neighbour on -the other side being Captain Frampton. After bowing and smiling at Mr. -Joyce, Lady Caroline said-- - -"Now, Captain Frampton, continue, if you please!" - -"Let me see!" said the captain, a good soldier and a good singer, but -not burdened with more brains than are necessary for these -professions--"let me see! Gad--'shamed to say, Lady Car'line, forgot -what we were talkin' of!" - -"Mr. Chennery--you remember now?" - -"Yas, yas, course, thousand pardons! Well, several people who heard -him -at Carabas House think him wonderful." - -"A tenor, you say?" - -"Pure tenor, one of the richest, purest tenor voices ever heard! Man's -fortune's made--if he only behaves himself!" - -"How do you mean, 'behaves himself,' Captain Frampton?" asked Lady -Caroline, raising her eyebrows. - -"Well, I mean sassiety, and all that kind of thing, Lady Caroline! Man -not accustomed to sassiety might, as they say, put his foot in it!" - -"I see," said Lady Caroline, with an assumption of gravity. "Exactly! -and that would indeed be dreadful. But is this gentleman not -accustomed to society?" - -"Not in the least; and in point of fact not a gentleman, so far as I'm -led to understand. Father's a shepherd; outdoor labouring something -down at Lord Westonhanger's place in Wiltshire; boy was apprenticed to -a stonemason, but people staying at the house heard of his singing, -sent for him, and Lord Westonhanger was so charmed with his voice, had -him sent to Italy and taught. That's the story!" - -"Surely one that reflects great credit on all concerned," said Lady -Caroline. "But I yet fail to see why Mr. Chennery should not behave -himself!" - -"Well, you see, Lady Caroline, Carabas House, and that sort of -thing--people he'll meet there, you know, different from anything -he's ever seen before." - -"But he can but be a gentleman, Captain Frampton. If he were a prince, -he could be no more!" - -"No, exactly, course not; but pardon me, that's just it, don't you -see, the difficulty is for the man to be a gentleman." - -"Not at all; not the slightest difficulty!" And here Lady Caroline -almost imperceptibly turned a little towards Joyce. "If Mr. Chennery -is thrown into different society from that to which he has been -hitherto accustomed, and is at all nervous about his reception or his -conduct in it, he has merely to be natural and just as he always has -been, to avoid any affectation, and he cannot fail to please. The -art which he possesses, and the education he has received, are -humanising influences, and he certainly contributes more than the -average quota towards the enjoyment of what people call society." - -Whether Captain Frampton was unconvinced by the argument, whether he -found a difficulty in pursuing it, or whether he had by this time -realised the fact that the soup was of superior quality, and worth -paying attention to, are moot points; at all events, the one thing -certain was, that he bowed and slightly shrugged his shoulders, and -relapsed into silence, while Lady Caroline, with a half smile of -victory, which somehow seemed to include Walter Joyce in its expanding -ripple, replied across the table to a polite query of Mr. Biscoe's in -reference to their recent ride. - -She certainly was very beautiful! Joyce had thought so before, as he -had caught transient glimpses of her flitting about the house; but now -that he had, unnoticed and unseen, the opportunity of quietly studying -her, he-was astonished at her beauty. Her face was very pale, with an -impertinent little nose, and deep-violet eyes, and a small rosebud of -a mouth; but perhaps her greatest charm lay in her hair, which lay in -heavy thick chestnut clumps over her white forehead. Across it she -wore the daintiest bit of precious lace, white lace, the merest -apology for a cap, two long lapels pinned together by a diamond -brooch, while the huge full clump at the back, unmistakably real, was -studded with small diamond stars. She was dressed in a blue-satin -gown, set off with a profusion of white lace, and on her arm she wore -a large heavy gold bracelet. Walter Joyce found himself gazing at her -in an odd indescribable way. He had never seen anything like her, -never realised such a combination of beauty, set off by the advantages -of dress and surroundings. Her voice too, so bright and clear and -ringing, and her manner to him--to him? Was it not to him that she had -really addressed these words of advice, although they were surely said -in apparent reply to Captain Frampton's comments? If that were so, it -was indeed kind of Lady Caroline, true noble-hearted kindness: he must -write and tell Marian of it. - -He was thinking of this, and had in his mind a picture, confused -indeed, but full of small details which had a strange interest for -him, and a vivid sadness too, of the contrast between the scene of -which he formed at this moment a part, and those familiar to himself -and to Marian. He was thinking of the homely simple life of the -village, of the dear dead friend, so much a better man, so much a -truer gentleman than any of these people, who were of so much -importance in a world where he had been of so little; of the old -house, the familiar routine of life, not wearisome with all its -sameness, the sweetness of his first love. He was thinking of the -splendour, the enervating bewildering luxury of his present -surroundings, among which he sat so strange, so solitary, save for the -subtle reassuring influence, the strange, unaccountable support and -something like companionship in the tones of that fair and gracious -lady's voice, in the light of her swift flitting smile, in which he -thought he read an admission that the company was little more to her -taste than to his, had as little in common with her intellectual -calibre as with his. He could not have told how she conveyed this -impression to him, if he had tried to explain his feelings to any -third person; he could not explain it to himself, when he thought over -the events of the evening, alone in his room, which was a dingy -apartment when compared with the rest of the house, but far better -than any which had ever called him master; but there it was, strong -and strangely attractive, mingling with the sights and sounds around -him, and with the dull dead pain at his heart which had been caused by -Marian's letter, and which he had never quite succeeded in conquering. -There were unshed but not unseen tears in his eyes, and a slight -tremulous motion in his lips, which one pair of eyes at the table, -quick with all their languor, keen with all their disdainful slowness, -did not fail to see. The owner of those beautiful eyes did not quite -understand, could not "fathom" the meaning of the sudden glitter in -his--"idle tears," indeed, on such an occasion, and in such -company!--but, with the fine unfailing instinct of a coquette, she -discerned, more clearly than Walter Joyce himself had felt it, that -she counted for something in the origin and meaning of those unshed -tears and of that nervous twitching. - -Lady Caroline had just removed her eyes with well-feigned carelessness -from Walter's face, after a covert glance, apparently casual, but in -reality searching, in order to effect which she had leaned forward and -plucked some geranium-leaves from a bouquet near her on the table; and -Walter was removing himself still farther from the scene around, into -the land of reverie, when a name spoken by Mr. Gould, and making an -odd accidental harmony with his thoughts, fixed his wandering -attention. - -"What sort of weather had you in Hampshire?" asked Lord Hetherington, -in one of those irksome pauses usually selected by some individual who -is at once commonplace and good-natured enough to distinguish himself -by uttering an inane sentiment, or asking an awkward question. - -"Awful, I should fancy," said Lady Hetherington, in the most languid -of her languid tones. "Awful, if it has been like the weather here. -Were you really obliged to travel, Mr. Gould? I can't fancy any one -going anywhere in such weather." - -"As it happened," said Mr. Gould, with a rather impatient glance -towards her ladyship--for he could not always smile complacently when -she manifested her normal unconsciousness that anybody could have -anything to do not entirely dependent on his or her own pleasure and -convenience--"as it happened, I had not to go. A few days after I told -his lordship the particulars of the sale of land, I had a letter -informing me that the matter was all off for the present." - -"Indeed!" said Lord Hetherington; "a domed bore for Langley, isn't it? -He has been wanting to pick up something in that neighbourhood for a -long time. But the sale will ultimately come off, I suppose, unless -some one buys the land over Langley's head by private contract." - -"There's no fear of that, I think," said Mr. Gould; "but I took -precautions. I should not like Sir John to lose the slice off -Woolgreaves he wants. The place is in a famous hunting country, and -the plans are settled upon--like Sir John, isn't it?--for his -hunting-box." - -"I don't know that part of Hampshire at all," said Lord Hetherington, -delighted at finding a subject on which he could induce one of his -guests to talk without his being particularly bound to listen. "Very -rich and rural, isn't it? Why didn't the--ah, the person sell the land -Langley wanted there?" - -"For rather a melancholy reason," replied Mr. Gould, while Lady -Hetherington and the others looked bored by anticipation. Rather -inconsiderate and bad taste of Mr. Gould to talk about "melancholy -reasons" in a society which only his presence and that of the -secretary rendered at all "mixed." But Mr. Gould, who was rather full -of the subject, and who had the characteristic--so excellent in a man -of business in business hours, but a little tiresome in social -moments--of believing that nothing could equal in interest his -clients' affairs, or in importance his clients themselves, went on, -quite regardless of the strong apathy in the face of the countess. -"The letter which prevented my going down to Woolgreaves on the -appointed day was written by a lady residing in the house, to inform -me that the owner of the property, a Mr. Creswell, very well known in -those parts, had lost his only son, and was totally unfit to attend to -any business. The boy was killed, I understand, by a fall from his -pony." - -"Tom Creswell killed!" exclaimed Walter Joyce, in a tone which -directed the attention of every one at the table to the "secretary." - -"I beg your pardon," Joyce went on, "but will you kindly tell me all -you know of this matter? I know Mr. Creswell, and I knew this boy -well. Are you sure of the fact of his death?" - -The paleness of Walter's face, the intensity of his tone, held Lady -Caroline's attention fixed upon him. How handsome he was! and the man -could evidently feel too! How nice it would be to make him feel, to -see the face pale, and to hear the voice deepen, like that, for her! -It would be quite _new_. She had any amount of flirtation always at -hand, whenever she chose to summon its aid in passing the time; but -feeling did not come at call, and she had never had much of _that_ -given her. These were the thoughts of only a moment, flashing through -her mind before Mr. Gould had time to answer Joyce's appeal. - -"I am sorry I mentioned the fact at so inappropriate a time," said Mr. -Gould, "but still more sorry that there is no doubt whatever of its -truth. Indeed, I think I can show you the letter." Mr. Gould wore a -dress-coat, of course, but he could not have dined comfortably if he -had not transferred a mass of papers from his morning-coat to its -pockets. This mass he extricated with some difficulty, and selecting -one, methodically indorsed with the date of its receipt, from the -number, he handed it to Walter. - -Lady Hetherington was naturally shocked at the infringement of the -_bien-séances_ caused by this unfortunate incident, and was glancing -from Mr. Gould to Mr. Joyce--from one element of the "mixture" in the -assembled society to the other, with no pleasant expression of -countenance--when Lady Caroline came to the rescue, with gracefulness, -deftness, lightness all her own, and by starting an easy unembarrassed -conversation with the gentleman opposite to her, in which she -skilfully included her immediate neighbours, she dissipated all the -restraints which had temporarily fallen upon the party. Something -interesting to the elevated minds of the party, something different -from the unpleasantness of a boy being killed whom nobody knew -anything about, at a place which did not belong to anybody,--and the -character of the dinner-party, momentarily threatened, was -triumphantly retrieved. - -Walter saw that the letter which Mr. Gould handed him was in Marian's -writing. It contained an announcement of the calamity which had -occurred, and an intimation that Mr. Creswell could not attend to any -matters of business at present. That was all. Walter read the brief -letter with sincere concern, commiseration for the childless rich man, -and also with the thrill, half of curiosity, half of painless -jealousy, with which one regards the familiar and beloved handwriting, -when addressed, however formally, to another. He returned the letter -to Mr. Gould, with a simple expression of thanks, and sat silent. No -one noticed him. Every one had forgotten the dismal occurrence about -somebody whom nobody knew, down in some place that did not belong to -anybody. He had time to think unquestioned. - -"I wonder she has not written to me. The accident occurred four days -ago," he thought. "I suppose she has too much to do for them all. God -bless her, she will be their best comfort." - -Though unversed in the minor arts and smaller tactics of society, -Walter was not so dull or awkward as to be ignorant of the skill and -kindness with which Lady Caroline had acted on his behalf. When the -ladies were to leave the room, as she passed him, their eyes met, and -each looked at the other steadily. In her glance there was -undisguised interest, in his--gratitude. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. -LADY CAROLINE. - - -The Lady Caroline liked late hours. She was of a restless temperament, -and hated solitude, though she was also intolerant of anything like -dulness in her associates, and had sufficient taste for the -accomplishments which she possessed to render her independent of -society. Nevertheless she underwent an immense deal of boredom rather -than be alone, and whenever she found herself in a country house, she -set to work to form a coterie of late sitters, in order to avoid the -early hours which were her abhorrence. She was not an empty-headed -woman--far from it. She had a good deal more knowledge than most women -of her class, and a great deal of appreciation, some native humour, -and much of the kind of tact and knowledge of society which require -the possession and the exercise of brains. Nobody would have -pronounced her stupid, but every one agreed that she was supercilious -and superficial. The truth was that she was empty-hearted, and where -that void exists, no qualities of head will fill it; and even those -who do not know what it is they miss in the individual are impressed -by the effect of the deficiency. The Lady Caroline loved no one in the -world except herself, and sometimes she took that solitary object of -affection in disgust, which, if transient, was deep. She had arrived -at Westhope in one of those passing fits of _ennui_, mingled with -impatience and disgust of herself and irritation with everybody around -her. She never at any time liked Westhope particularly, and her -brother and his wife had no more interest for her, no more share in -her affections, than any other dull lord and lady among the number of -dull lords and ladies with whom she was acquainted. Her brother loved -her rather more than other people loved her, and Lady Hetherington and -she, though they "got on" charmingly, knew perfectly well that the -very tepid regard which they entertained for each other had nothing in -it resembling sympathy or companionship. - -When the Lady Caroline retired to her own rooms after the dinner-party -at which Walter Joyce had learned the news from Woolgreaves, she was -no more inclined than usual to try the efficacy of a "beauty" sleep; -but she was much less inclined to grumble at the dulness of Westhope, -to wish the countess could contrive to have another woman or two whom -she might talk to of an evening, and who would not want such a lot of -sleep to be resorted to so absurdly early, and to scold her maid, than -usual. The maid perceived the felicitous alteration in her ladyship's -mood immediately. It made an important difference to her. Lady -Caroline allowed her to remove all her ornaments and to brush her hair -without finding fault with her, and surprised the patient Abigail, who -must have had it "made very well worth her while" to endure the -fatigues of her office, by telling her she should not require her any -longer, and that she was sure she must be tired. Left to herself, the -Lady Caroline did not feel so impatient of her solitude as usual, but -fell into a reverie which occupied her mind completely. We have seen -this nobly born, and in some respects (chiefly external) highly -gifted, woman as she appeared among her brother's guests. While she -sat by the fire in her dressing-room--with which she never dispensed, -at any season, in "the odious English climate," as she was wont to -call it--l-et us look into her life and see her as she really was. - -Lady Caroline Mansergh had married, or rather, her mother had married -her to, a gentleman of considerable importance, wealth, and more than -mature years, when she was just seventeen. Very fair and very sweet -seventeen, whom it had been somewhat difficult to convince of the -delights and advantages of being "an old man's darling." But Lady -Hetherington had not accustomed her children to gentle or affectionate -treatment, or to having their inclinations consulted in any way. She -no more recognised Lady Caroline's right to choose her own husband -than she would have consulted her taste in her babyhood about her own -sashes; and the girl's feeble attempt at remonstrance in opposition to -the solid advantages of the proposals made by Mr. Mansergh did not -produce the least effect at the time. Her ladyship carried her point -triumphantly, and the girl found her fate more endurable, on the -whole, than she had expected. But she never forgave her mother, and -that was rather odd, though not, when looked into, very unreasonable; -Mr. Mansergh never forgave her either. The countess had accomplished -his wishes for him, the countess had bestowed upon him the wife he -coveted, but she had deceived him, and when he won his wife's -confidence he found her mother out. He had not been se foolish as to -think the girl loved him, but he had believed she was willing to -become his wife--he had never had a suspicion of the domestic scenes -which had preceded that pretty _tableau vivant_ at St. George's, -Hanover Square, in which every emotion proper to the occasion had been -represented to perfection. Fortunately for Lady Caroline, her elderly -husband was a perfect gentleman, and treated her with indulgence, -consideration, and respect, which appealed successfully to her -feelings, and were rewarded by a degree of confidence on her part, -which insured her safety and his peace in the hazardous experiment of -their unequal marriage. She told him frankly all about herself, her -tastes, her feelings--the estrangement, almost amounting to dislike, -which existed between herself and her mother--the attempt she had made -to avoid her marriage; in short, the whole story of her brief life, in -which there had been much to deplore. Mr. Mansergh possessed much -firmness of character and good sense, which, though it had not -preserved him from the folly of marrying a girl young enough to be his -daughter, came to his aid in making the best (and that much better -than could have been expected) of the perilous position. Lady Caroline -did not, indeed, learn to love her husband in the sense in which alone -any woman can be justified in becoming the wife of any man, but she -liked him better than she liked any one in the world, and she regarded -him with real and active respect, a sentiment which she had never -entertained previously for any one. Thus it fell out--contrary to the -expectations of "society," which would have acted in the aggregate -precisely as Lady Hetherington had done, but which would also have -congratulated itself on its discernment, and exulted hugely had the -matrimonial speculation turned out a failure--that Lady Caroline -Mansergh was happy and respectable. She never gave cause for the -smallest scandal; she was constantly with her husband, and was so -naturally unaffectedly cheerful and content in his company, that not -the most censorious observer could discover that he was used as a -shield or a pretence. There was a perfectly good understanding between -Mr. Mansergh and his young wife on all points; but if there was more -complete accord on one in particular than on others, it was in keeping -the countess at a distance. The manoeuvring mother profited little by -the success of her scheme. To be sure she got rid of her daughter at -the comparatively trifling expense of a splendid _trousseau_, and the -unconsidered risk of the welfare and the reputation of the daughter in -question, and she had the advantage over the majority of her friends -of having married her advantageously in her first season. But the -profit of the transaction terminated there. In her daughter's house -Lady Hetherington remained on the same ceremonious footing as any -other visiting acquaintance, and every attempt she made either to -interfere or advise was met by a polite and resolute coldness, against -the silent obstinacy of which she would have striven unsuccessfully -had she not been much too wise to strive at all. If the barrier had -been reared by Lady Caroline's hands alone, though they were no longer -feeble, the countess would have flung it down by the force of her -imperious will; but when she found that her daughter had her husband's -opinion and authority to back her, Lady Hetherington executed the -strategic movement of retreat with celerity and discretion, and would -never have been suspected of discomfiture had she not spoken of her -daughter henceforth with suspicious effusion. Then "society" smiled, -and knew all about it, and felt that Mr. Mansergh had been foolish -indeed, but not immoderately, not unpardonably so. Lady Caroline was -very popular and very much admired, and had her only friend's life -been prolonged for a few years, until she had passed the dangerous -period of youth, she might have been as worthy of esteem and affection -as she was calculated to inspire admiration. But Mr. Mansergh died -before his wife was twenty-three years old, and left her with a large -fortune, brilliant beauty, and just sufficient knowledge of the world -to enable her to detect and despise its most salient snares, but with -a mind still but half educated, desultory habits, and a wholly -unoccupied heart. Her grief for her husband's loss, if not poignant -and torturing, was at least sincere, deep, and well founded. When he -died, she had said to herself that she should never again have so -true, so wise, and so constant a friend, and she was right. Life had -many pleasant and some good things in store for Lady Caroline -Mansergh, but such a love as that with which her husband had loved her -was not among them. She acknowledged this always; the impression did -not fade away with the first vehemence of grief--it lasted, and was -destined to deepen. She strayed into a bad "set" before long, and to -her youth and impulsiveness, with her tendency to _ennui_, and her sad -freedom from all ties of attachment, the step from feeling that no one -was _so_ good as her husband had been, to believing that no one else -was good at all, was very easy. And so Lady Caroline acquired a -dangerous and demoralising trick of contempt for her fellows, which -she hid under a mask of light and careless good-nature indeed, and -which was seriously offensive to no one, but which condemned her, -nevertheless, to much interior solitude and dreariness. That she was -not _of_ the world she lived in, was due less to any elevation of -sentiment than to a capricious and disdainful humour, which caused her -to grow bored very readily, and to dismiss her associates from her -thoughts after a brief scrutiny, in which their follies and foibles -came into strong light, and the qualities which would have required -time and patience to find out remained undiscovered. - -It had occurred to Lady Caroline Mansergh, on several occasions of -late, to wonder whether she was destined ever to experience the -passion called love. She had not remained ignorant of the science of -flirtation up to her present time of life, but she had not been -beguiled, ever so briefly, into mistaking any of her flirtations for -love. So she was accustomed to wonder wearily, when in an unusually -desultory mood, whether she should ever feel that there existed in the -world a human being for whom she should be willing to suffer, with -whom life would be happy, without whom it would be intolerable, and -whose welfare she could deliberately and practically prefer to her -own. Of late she had begun to think that Fate was against her in this -particular. The idea of the possibility of feeling love for one of the -men whom she was in the habit of meeting was quite preposterous; she -did not hold her favourite followers half so dear as Hassan, her black -barb, or like them half so well as Gelert, her greyhound. Her life -would doubtless continue to be the bright, fashionable, flimsy, -careless, rather _ennuyé_ existence it had hitherto been, and she -should never know anything of the power, the pain, the engrossing -influence of love. So much the better, she would think, in her more -hopeful moods; it must be a narrowing kind of influence, bounding all -one's horizon within such small limits, shutting up one's mortal vista -with one figure. - -When the Lady Caroline dismissed her maid, and resigned herself to -reverie, on this night, it was not, after her accustomed fashion, to -dwell in her thoughts on the dulness, staleness, flatness, and -unprofitableness of the world in general, and the section of it in -which she lived in particular. She had quite a distinct subject for -thought, she had a figure and a face in her fancy, a voice in her -memory which filled them wholly. What if she had been wrong, if not -only love were coming to her, to fill her life with delight, and turn -its weariness with purpose and meaning, but love at first sight? A -ridiculous notion, entertained by school-girls, housemaids, novelists, -and poets, but scouted by all reasonable people of the world, and in -"society." She knew this, but she did not care; there was a strange -delicious thrill about her heart; and in the swift flight of her -thoughts she swept the beams of happy possibilities, and felt that she -could, and would, and did despise society and its notions on this -point. - -What did she know about Walter Joyce? Absolutely nothing, but that he -was young, handsome, brightly intelligent, presumably poor, and -socially insignificant, or he would not be her silly brother's -secretary. Her attention had been directed to him at first, because -she felt a compassionate curiosity about the person whom circumstances -had oppressed so cruelly as to oblige him to purvey ideas, and -language in which to express them, for Lord Hetherington. Curiosity -and compassion had been replaced, within a few minutes, by admiration, -which the difference between the manners and bearing of Walter, and -those of the men with whom she was accustomed to associate, rather -tended to increase. There was no awkwardness about Walter, but neither -was there the slightest pretence. He was at ease in the unaccustomed -company he found himself among, but he did not affect to be other than -an observant stranger in it. - -"He has an intellect and a heart," said Lady Caroline half aloud, as -she rose from her seat by the fireside, and brought her reverie to a -conclusion, "and why should I care for the world's opinion? It could -not make me happy, if I conciliated it; but I think _he_ could, if I -defied it for his sake." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. -"NEWS FROM THE HUMMING CITY." - - -After the ladies left the dining-room, Walter Joyce, in the general -re-arrangement of seats thereon ensuing, found himself placed next to -Mr. Gould. It was soon obvious that his propinquity was not accidental -on Mr. Gould's part. That keen-looking gentleman at once wheeled round -in his chair, helped himself to a few olives and a glass of the driest -sherry within his reach, and then fixing his bright steel-blue eyes on -his neighbour, said-- - -"That was news for you, that about young Creswell's accident, Mr. -Joyce?" - -"It was indeed," replied Walter; "and--to a certain extent--sad news." - -"You knew the boy who was killed, and his father?" - -"Both. I knew the boy well; he was a pupil in the school where I was -an usher, and I knew the father--by sight--as a man in my position -would know a man in his." - -"Ah--of course!" and Mr. Gould glanced more keenly than ever at his -interlocutor, to see whether he was speaking earnestly or -contemptuously. Earnestly, he thought, after a glance, and Joyce fell -a little in the worldly man's opinion. He sucked an olive slowly, made -a little pattern on his plate with the stones, and then said, "Do you -think this affair will make any difference in Mr. Creswell's future?" - -"In his future? Will the loss of his son make any difference in his -future? Are you serious in asking such a question, Mr. Gould? Will it -not leave his life a blank, a vague misery without----" - -"Yes, yes, of course; I know all about that. You'll pardon me, Mr. -Joyce, I'm a much older man than you, and therefore you won't mind my -experiencing a certain amount of delight in your perfect freshness -and simplicity. As to leaving the man's life blank, and all -that--nonsense, my dear sir, sheer nonsense. He'll find plenty of -distraction, even at his age, to fill up the blank. Now, I was not -considering the question from a domestic point of view in the least; -what I meant was, do you think that it will alter any of his -intentions as regards public life?" - -"Public life?--Mr. Creswell?" - -"Yes, indeed, public life, Mr. Creswell! I suppose now there's no harm -in telling you that the Conservative authorities in London, the -wire-pullers in Westminster, have long had it in their minds to wrest -the seat for Brocksopp from the Liberals, that at the next general -election they have determined to make the fight, and they have -selected Mr. Creswell as their champion." - -"Mr. Creswell of Woolgreaves--going into Parliament?" - -"Well, that's rather a summary way of putting it, Mr. Joyce," said the -lawyer, with a chuckle. "Say rather, going to try to get into -Parliament! Bidwell, of Brocksopp, the Liberal agent, is a deuced -long-headed fellow, and will make a tremendous struggle to keep Mr. -Creswell out in the cold. Do you know Bidwell, of Brocksopp?" - -"I have a slight acquaintance with him." - -"Then you've a slight acquaintance with a remarkably sharp character, -and one who never misses a chance for his party. It will be a -tremendous fight, sir, this next election," said Mr. Gould, warming -up, placing all his olive-stones in a row, and charging at them with -his dessert-knife; "they'll do all they can to beat us, and we shall -have to do all we know to hold our own. When I say 'we,' of course I -reckon you as a Conservative." - -"I--I have no political opinions. I take no interest in politics," -said Joyce absently. - -Mr. Creswell, from any but a domestic point of view, could not rouse -an emotion in him. - -"Don't you indeed? No political opinions? Ah, I remember when I hadn't -any myself. That was--dear me!" and the astute parliamentary agent -made a new pattern with the olive-stones, while his thoughts went back -for a quarter of a century, to a time when he was under articles in -Gray's Inn, used to frequent the Cider Cellars, and was desperately in -love with the columbine of the Adelphi. - -They went to the drawing-room soon afterwards. There was some -instrumental music of the most approved firework style, and then -Captain Frampton growled away at "Il Balen" with great success, and -Joyce was just making up his mind to slip away, when Lady Caroline -Mansergh sat down to the piano, and began to sing one of Moore's -melodies to her own accompaniment. Ah, surely it is not laying one's -self open to the charge of fogeyism to grieve over the relegation to -the "Canterbury" of those charming ballads, wherein the brightest -fancies were wedded to the sweetest sounds? If the "makers of the -people's ballads" possess the power ascribed to them, there is, -indeed, but little cause to wonder at the want of tone prevalent in a -society, which for its drawing-room music alternates between mawkish -sentimentality and pot-house slang. When the first note of Lady -Caroline's rich contralto voice rippled round the room, the guests -standing about in small knots, coffee-cup in hand, gradually sidled -towards the piano, and ere she had sung the first stanza even Colonel -Tapp's ventriloquial grumbling--he was discussing army estimates, and -the infernal attempts at cheeseparing of the Manchester School--was -hushed. No one in the room was uninfluenced by the singer's spell, on -no one had it so much effect as on Walter Joyce, who sat far away in -the shadow of a curtain, an open photograph-book unheeded on his knee, -drinking in the melody and surrendering himself entirely to its potent -charms. His eyes were fixed on the singer, now on her expressive face, -now on her delicate little hands as they went softly wandering over -the keys, but his thoughts were very, very far away. Far away in the -old school garden, with its broad grass-plots, its ruddy wall, its -high elm trees, frame-like bordering the sweet domestic picture. Far -away with Marian, the one love which his soul had ever known. Ah, how -visibly he saw her then, the trim figure noiselessly moving about on -its domestic errands, the bright beryl eyes upturned in eager -questioning towards his own, the delicate hand with its long thin -fingers laid in such trusting confidence on his arm! What ages it -seemed since he had seen her! what a tremendous gulf seemed ever to -separate them! And what prospect was there of that union for which -they had so fervently prayed? The position he was to gain--where was -that? What progress had he made in--"friends once linked together I've -seen around me fall, like leaves in wintry weather!" Ay, ay, the poor -old dominie, at rest--better there than anywhere else, better to be -out of the strife and the worry, and--good heavens was this what he -had promised her? was this the courage on which he had prided himself, -and which was to carry him through the world? "Brava! brava! Oh, thank -you so very much, Lady Caroline. Mayn't we hope for another? Thanks, -so much!" The song was over; the singer had left the piano. He caught -one glance as he bowed and murmured his thanks. He could not stand it -any longer, his thoughts had completely unmanned him, and he longed -for solitude. If it were rude to leave the party he must brave even -Lady Hetherington's wrath, but he would try and get away unobserved. -Now, while the hum of admiration was still going on, and while people -were gathering round Lady Caroline, was the opportunity. He availed -himself of it, slipped away unperceived, and hurried to his own room. - -He closed the door behind him, turned the key, and flung himself on to -the bed, in the dark. He felt that he could contain himself no longer, -and now that he was alone and unseen, there was no further reason to -restrain the tears which had been welling into his eyes, and now -flowed unchecked down his cheeks. He was a man of nervous temperament, -highly wrought susceptibilities, and acute sympathies, which had -been over-excited during the evening by the story of Tom Creswell's -death, his own recollections of his past life, and the weird -thought-compelling power of Lady Caroline's music. There was no -special occasion for these tears; he knew nothing had happened to -Marian, nothing--no, nothing had happened calculated in any way to -interpose any--any barrier between them; his position was pleasant, -his prospects brighter than he could have hoped--and yet, and yet! How -very strange that she had not written lately!--unless, indeed, she had -been completely absorbed by ministering to the trouble round her. -Walter could easily picture to himself the comfort she must have been -to all in the midst of the desolation which had fallen upon that -hitherto prosperous house; he recollected how even in the midst of her -own deep sorrow she had been able, at the time of her father's death, -to rouse her mother from the lethargic state of grief into which she -had fallen; and if Marian could do that then, while her own heart was -bleeding, how much more would she be able to bestir herself now, when -neither for the dead, nor for those left behind, had she anything but -a kindly interest? And might not this sad event prove a useful lesson -to her; might it not prove the one thing needful to render her a -perfect character, showing her, as it would, that there are worse -misfortunes than poverty, and that grief can slip in behind the -shields of wealth and position, and abase the heads of their -possessors to the dust? That longing for money and worship of position -was the only blot in Marian's character, as seen by Walter Joyce's -eyes, and if this accident led to its eradication, it would not have -been without its beneficent purpose. - -He rose from the bed, and felt his way towards his dressing-table. As -he was groping for the matches, his hand fell upon an unopened letter. -From Marian, without a doubt; he felt his heart throbbing; at once he -struck a light and looked hurriedly for the familiar writing. No, not -from Marian! Totally unlike her square neatly written notes; a large -blue letter, directed in a straggling hand, and awkwardly folded. -Though Joyce was disappointed and, vexed for an instant, he quickly -recovered himself, and he took the letter up and smiled at it -pleasantly, for he had recognised the style and the writing, and he -knew that it had come from old Jack Byrne. - -Thus it ran: - - - "London, Thursday. - -"MY DEAR BOY, - - "You'll wonder I haven't answered that capital letter you -sent me, giving a description of Westhope and its people, and your -life there. You'll wonder, because you are young; when you're as old -as I am you won't wonder at anything, except when you sometimes find a -man tell the truth; but you shouldn't wonder then, because it would -only be an accident. I am very glad that you seem to be so comfortable -among the swells, but I never had much fear about it. I know them root -and branch, the whole lot, though I'm only an old bird-stuffer; but -I'm like Ulysses, I've seen men and cities, and used my eyes--used 'em -so much that, by Jove! I don't think they'll last me much longer--at -least, for the fine work in my business. What was I saying? Oh, I see; -I know the swells, and I know that if they see a man respect himself -they always respect him. All of 'em, sir; don't make any mistake about -it. All of 'em, the most ineffable transparencies, who think you're -sewn up and stuffed in quite a different way from themselves, the -kindly noodles, and the clever people--for there are clever people, a -few, even among swells--all like to see a man respect himself. You'll -have found out by this time, if you did not know it before, that Lord -Hetherington is one of the kindly noodles, and one of the best of 'em. -He can't help believing in his blood, and his lineage, and his descent -from those bloodthirsty, ignorant old ruffians of the Middle Ages, -whose only good was that they killed other bloodthirsty, ignorant old -ruffians, and he can't help being a fool, that being the penalty which -a man generally has to pay for being able to boast of his descent; but -he is harmless and kind-hearted. How goes on the book? Take my advice, -and make it light and anecdotical. Boil down those old chronicles and -parchments of the great West family, and serve them up in a -_soufflet_. -And don't let your heavy pedagogical style be seen in the dish! If you -do, everybody will know at once that my lord has had nothing to do -with the book on the title-page of which his name figures. I suppose -it wouldn't do to put in any bad spelling, would it? That would be -immensely reassuring to all who know Lord Hetherington as to the real -authorship. - -"And my lady, how is that _grande dame_? I've grinned a hundred times, -thinking over your face of indignation and disgust at the manner in -which she received you that day we went to call on their magnificences -at the Clarendon, with a view to your engagement! How does she treat -you now? Has she ordered you to black her boots yet, or to wash her -lap-dog, or to take your meals with her lady's-maid? Or, more likely -still, has she never taken any notice at all of you, having no -idea of your existence, beyond the fact that there is a -writing-machine--you--in the library, as there is a churn in the -dairy, and a mangle in the laundry! And does this behaviour gird you, -and do you growl inwardly about it, or are you a philosopher, and able -to despise anything that a woman can do to hurt you? If the latter, -come up to town at once, and I will exhibit you in a show as a _lusus -naturae_, and we will divide the profits and make our fortunes. - -"And while on that subject, Walter, let me drop my old cynical fun, -and talk to you for a minute honestly and with all the affection of -which my hard, warped, crabbed nature is capable. I can write to you -what I couldn't say to you, my boy, and you won't think me gushing -when I tell you that my heart had been tight locked and barred for -years before I saw you, and that I don't think I've been any the worse -since you found a key somehow--God knows how--to unlock it. Now, then, -after that little bit of maudlin nonsense, to what I was going to say. -The first time we were ever in my old room together talking over your -future, I proposed to start you for Australia. You declined, saying -that you couldn't possibly leave England; and when I pressed you about -the ties that bound you here, and learned that you had no father or -mother, you boggled, and hesitated, and broke down, and I was obliged -to help you out of your sentence by changing the subject. Do you -remember all that? And do you think I didn't know what it all meant? -That marvellous stupidity of young men, which prevents them from -thinking that any one has ever been young but themselves! I knew that -it meant that you were in love, Walter, and that's what I want to ask -you about. From that hour until the day we pressed hands in farewell -at Euston Square, you never alluded to her again! In the long letter -which you sent me, and which now lies before me, a letter treating -fully of your present and your future life, there is no word of her -Don't think I am surprised at a fine, generous, hearty, hopeful young -fellow not giving his love-confidence to a withered, dried-up old -skittle like myself; I never expected it; I should not mention it now, -save that I fear that the state of affairs can be scarcely -satisfactory between you, or you, who have placed your whole story -unreservedly before me, would not have hidden this most important part -of it. Nor do I want to ask you for a confidence which you have not -volunteered. I only wish you to examine the matter calmly, quietly, -and under the exercise of your common sense, of which you have plenty. -And if it is unsatisfactory in any way---_give it up!_ Yes, Walter, -give it up! It sounds harshly, ridiculously, I know, but it is honest -advice, and if I had had any one to say it to me years and years ago, -and to enforce my adoption of it, I should have been a very different -man. Believe in no woman's love, Walter; trust no woman's looks, or -words, or vows. 'First of all would I fly from the cruel madness of -love,' says Mr. Tennyson, and he is right. Cruel madness, indeed we -laugh at the wretched lunatic who dons a paper crown, and holds a -straw for a sceptre, while all the time we are hugging our own tinsel -vanities, and exulting in our own sham state! That's where the swells -have the pull, my boy! They have no nonsense about mutual love, and -fitness, and congeniality, and all that stuff, which is fitted for -nothing but valentine-mongers and penny-romancists; they are not very -wise, but they know that the dominant passion in a man's heart is -admiration of beauty, the dominant passion in a woman's is ambition, -and they go quietly into the mart and arrange the affair, on the -excellent principle of barter. When I was your age I could not believe -in this, had high hopes and aspirations, and scouted the idea of -woman's inconstancy--went on loving and hoping and trusting, from -month to month, and from year to year, wore out my youth and my -freshness and my hope, and was then flung aside and discarded, the -victim of 'better opportunities' and 'improved position.' Oh, Lord! I -never intended to open my mouth about this, but if you ever want to -hear the whole story, I'll tell you some day. Meanwhile, think over -these hints, my boy Life's too short and too hard as it is, -and--_verbum sap_. - -"Most probably you'll never take any further notice of me, after that. -If you have corns, I must have been hard and heavy upon them, and -you'll curse my impertinence; if you haven't, you'll think me the -prosiest of old bores. Just like me. I see plainly that I must have -made a mess of it, whichever way it turns up. - -"You tell me to send you news. Not much about; but what there is, -encouraging and good for the cause. There is very little doubt that at -the general election, which will come off in a few months, we shall be -stronger by far than we ever expected, and shall cut the combs of some -of those aristocrats and plutocrats very close indeed. There is a -general feeling that blood and moneybags have divided the spoil too -long, and and that worth and intellect may be allowed a chance of -being brought into play. There are three or four men at the club, whom -you know, and who are tolerably certain of seats, and who, if once -they get the opportunity of making their voices heard in Parliament, -will show the world of what stuff real Englishmen consist. Who do you -think is helping us immensely? Shimmer, he of Bliffkins's! He has got -an engagement on the _Comet_--a new journal which has just started in -our interest, and he is writing admirably. A good deal of Lemprière's -dictionary, and Bohn's quotations, and Solomon's proverbs, mixed up -with a dashing incisive style and sound Saxon English, has proved -immensely telling. People are buying the _Comet_ everywhere, and -Shimmer's salary has been twice raised, and he has been applied to for -his photograph. He does not come much to Bliffkins's now, greatly to -old Wickwar's relief. The old gentleman has expressed his opinion that -since Robsperry (he is supposed to have meant Robespierre) there has -been no such sanguinary democrat as Shimmer. When will you come back -to us, Walter? I look at the place where I used to see you sitting, -before I ever spoke to you; I sit and stare at it now until I feel my -eyes---- D--d old fool! - -"Good-bye, boy. Let me hear from you again soon. You know what you -promised if ever you wanted money or anything. J.B. - -"Opened again to say Shimmer has been here inquiring after you. -_Comet_ people want a correspondent at Berlin--special and important. -S. thinks you'll do. Will you go? J.B." - - -The company had long since departed from Westhope; the family had -long since retired to rest; dim lights glimmered here and there in the -windows; but Walter Joyce remained sitting on the side of his bed, -with Jack Byrne's open letter in his hand. When he wrote it the old -man little thought what a field of painful speculation he had laid -open for its recipient. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. -"HE LOVES ME; HE LOVES ME NOT." - - -The interest which Walter Joyce had awakened in Lady Caroline Mansergh -on the night of the dinner-party by no means died out, or even waned. -Flirtation is certainly not an exceptional amusement in the dead level -of dreary occupations which a country-house life affords, but this -word-pastime was certainly not flirtation. The notion of flirting with -her brother's secretary, which would have been exceedingly comic to -the rest of the world, and afforded a vast deal of amusement to the -kindly noodle portion of the Westhope society, did not strike Lady -Caroline at all in a ridiculous light; but to flirt with Walter Joyce -she knew would be impossible. The sighing and looking, the giving and -taking, the fetching and carrying, and all the poodle tricks which are -played by the best style of male flirts, in the best style of society, -she knew would be impossible to him; and though she had had long -practice in the art, and had derived no little amusement from it, she -felt it would be repulsive to her to try her hand on such a subject. -If not a desire for flirtation, what was it that irresistibly impelled -her to seek this man's society; that made her start and thrill at the -unexpected sound of his voice; that enabled her to picture to herself -so vividly certain expressions in his eyes, gestures of his hands, to -recall phrases of his conversation? Was it real passion? Had love come -to her at last? Was this the man with whom her fate was to be for ever -bound up? Lady Caroline half smiled as she contemplated this -tremendous possibility. It was too wild, too romantic, this story of -the Lord of Burleigh with the sexes reversed, and with herself for -heroine; the man was different from those with whom her life had been -passed, had brains and courage to use them, did not think the society -thoughts nor speak the society language, and was not conformable in -any way to the society pattern. That was what it meant. That was the -source of the strange interest she felt in him--interest which was -friendly and appreciative, but nothing further. - -Nothing further. That was why she had manoeuvred, carefully, -skilfully, and with perfect feminine tact, never ceasing until the -object was accomplished, that it was understood that Mr. Joyce joined -the family circle always after dinner, whether there were visitors or -not; that was why she invariably found opportunities to have him -seated by her side, or standing by her turning over the pages of her -music, while Lord Hetherington, with a dexterity only acquired by long -practice, held up the newspaper before him, being at the time sound -asleep, and her ladyship, scorning concealment, slumbered placidly in -the garish light of the moderator lamp. - -Nothing further. That was why Lady Caroline had suddenly taken to -pedestrian exercise, wanted an escort occasionally to the village, and -hated the idea of being followed about in the country by a footman; -found she had quite forgotten that charming Shakespeare, and -determined to read his dear plays again, and would not trouble Mr. -Joyce to send those heavy big volumes from the library, but would come -in and read them there occasionally, if he was quite sure she did not -disturb him. The jealous tortures endured by the valiant Othello, -which Lady Caroline selected for her first Shakespearian reading, -apparently did not interest her very much. The great family history of -the Wests, derived from ancient chronicles and documents, upon which -Lord Hetherington's secretary was engaged, made but little progress on -the occasions of her ladyship's visits. There were the longest and the -pleasantest talks. In Caroline Mansergh's hands Joyce was as pliable -as potter's clay. In less than a week after the dinner-party he had -told her the history of his life, made her acquainted with his hopes -and fears, his wishes and aspirations. Of course she heard about his -engagement to Marian; equally of course that was the part of the story -in which she felt and shared the greatest interest. Very quickly she -knew it all. Under her skilful questioning, Joyce not merely told her -what had actually occurred, but opened to her the secret chambers of -his heart, and displayed to her penetrating sense feelings with the -existence of which he himself was scarcely acquainted. The odd -uncomfortable sensation which first came over him in his last walk -with Marian round the school garden, when she spoke of how it might -have been better if they had never met, and how poorly armed he was -for the great conflict of life, the renewal of the sting with its -bitterness increased fifty-fold at the receipt of her letter dilating -on the luxury of Woolgreaves, and her dread of the poverty which they -would have to encounter, the last hint given to him in the worldly -advice contained in Jack Byrne's letter--all these were submitted to -Lady Caroline's keen powers of dissection, without Walter's being in -the least aware how much of his inner life he had made patent to her. -A look, a nod, a word here or there, begat, increased, and developed -his assurance of sympathy; and he could have talked till all eternity -on the subject dearest to his heart. - -Lady Caroline let him talk, and only starred the dialogue with -occasional interjections, always of a sympathising character. When she -was alone, she would sit for hours reviewing the conversation just -past in the minutest detail, weighing and reweighing sentences and -even words which Joyce had spoken, sifting, balancing, ascribing to -such and such influences, putting aside such and such theories, -bringing all her feminine wits--and in the great points of feminine -cleverness, an odd common sense, and an undefinable blundering on to -the right, she had no superior--to the solution of the question of -Walter Joyce's future so far as Marian Ashurst was concerned. Whatever -conclusion she may have arrived at she kept to herself; no one ever -had the slightest glimmering of it. Her talks with Walter Joyce were -as numerous as ever, her interest in his career no less, her delight -in his society by no means impaired; but the name of Miss Ashurst -never passed Lady Caroline's lips, and whenever she saw the -conversation necessarily veering that way, she invariably struck it -out into some new channel. Not that Lady Caroline Mansergh had any -jealousy of this "simple maiden in her flower;" she would not have -allowed that for an instant, would not have allowed, in her most -secret communings with herself, that such a thing could be possible; -for she had been properly and rigidly brought up in the Belgravian -code of morals, though a little inclined to kick against them now and -think for herself; and the Belgravian code of morals holds the -cultivation of the _bien-séances_ as the most essential portion of a -young lady's curriculum, and the _bien-séances_ effectively ignored -the existence of any such low sentiment as jealousy in the minds of -perfectly constituted members of the upper classes. Not that Walter -Joyce would have noticed the display of any such passion as jealousy, -or, as Lady Caroline thought rather ruefully, could allow any -such feeling to be excited in him. In all her experience--and -it had been large and vast--she had never come across a man so -completely---- Well, she could scarcely find a term for it. It was not -apathetic; because he was bright and intelligent and earnest. Perhaps -confiding was the best word to use so far as his relations with Marian -were concerned, though, as Lady Caroline felt, those relations were a -little dashed with recent doubt; and as for his feelings with regard -to herself, skilled mistress as she was in the art of such wordy -warfare, Lady Caroline could never trap him into an ambuscade, or -force him into anything like an acknowledgment of a liking for her. It -was not for the want of trying to evoke it, not for lack of given -opportunity on her part, that this avowal never was made. Fortune -favoured her, notably on one occasion; and if Walter Joyce had ever -contemplated anything beyond a feeling of pleasant friendship for Lady -Caroline Mansergh, he would have availed himself of that occasion for -expressing it. Thus it came about. Lady Caroline was sitting half -buried in a big soft easy-chair before the library fire, presumably -enjoying _Othello_, but really watching her brother's secretary, who -was busily transcribing from a big black-letter volume before him some -of the glorious deeds of her remote ancestry. Raising his eyes after -one of his pen-dips, Joyce met Lady Caroline's glance fixed straight -upon him, and said-- - -"Thinking of Iago's subtlety, Lady Caroline, or Desdemona's innate -weakness? The former, I should say, judging from your expression." - -"My expression must be very poor, then, Mr. Joyce, or your powers of -reading expression must be extremely limited. I was thinking of -something totally different." - -"May one ask of what?" - -He had had a long day at the chronicles of the West family, and a -little relief was absolutely necessary. - -"Oh dear, yes; my thoughts were certainly not to be marked -'confidential' or even 'private.' I was thinking about our going back -to town." - -"Oh, indeed! Is that imminent?" - -"I should say certainly. Parliament meets within a fortnight, and -West, I mean Lord Hetherington, never misses that. Lady Hetherington -won't let him go alone, and once in Beaufort Square, I suppose they'll -stop on." - -"I suppose so. This house will seem wonderfully different when you -have all left it." - -"Naturally. Deserted houses must be different to those filled with -company, though their actual appearance is of course only known to the -housekeeper who is left in them, and housekeepers seldom give their -impressions to the world." - -"If you are interested in the subject, perhaps you will permit me to -give you a faithful photograph of Westhope in its dismantled state." - -"Evolved from your inner graciousness, like the German's idea of the -camel?" - -"On the contrary, drawn in the minutest detail from personal -observation. The exact position of the pen which Lord Hetherington -threw down after signing his last cheque for Mr. Deacon, the steward, -the state of the withering hothouse flowers left by her ladyship on -her table in the drawing-room, the vacant chair in the library once -filled by----" - -"Thanks, that's enough! I won't trouble you to be poetical, Mr. Joyce; -that will be wanted one day at Helmingham, I suppose, and it's never -wise to be extravagant with one's ideas. But you don't mean to say you -think you will be left behind here, at Westhope, when the family -returns to town?" - -"Assuredly, Lady Caroline! How else should I be able to make any -progress with my work?" - -"I think you will find," said Lady Caroline, with a smile, "that the -history of our family, wonderfully interesting as it doubtless is, and -anxiously expected by the literary world, as it necessarily must be, -will have to remain in abeyance for a little time. The fact is, that -Lord Hetherington has been recently much struck with the levelling and -democratic spirit of the age, and has determined, so far as he is -able, to stem the torrent. He will need a certain amount of assistance -before bringing the matter before the House of Lords, and for that -assistance I know he looks to you!" - -He was a trying man, this Mr. Joyce. There was a scarcely suppressed -gleam of fun in Lady Caroline's usually earnest eyes that ought to -have -conveyed to any man acquainted with the circumstances of the position -the fact that this new combination had been suggested by her, and by -her alone, and that she perfectly appreciated not merely its -serviceable but its ludicrous side. Walter Joyce appreciated neither. -He should of course be ready to give his services in whatever way they -might be required, he said, adding with clumsy candour that he had -been almost looking forward to the time of the family's departure for -the additional facilities which would be afforded him in getting on -with his work. - -This was too much for Lady Caroline. A flush passed across her cheek, -as she said-- - -"It has been Lady Hetherington's accidental, and by no means wilful -error, Mr. Joyce, that your time has been already so much intruded on. -We have, unfortunately for us no doubt, been unaccustomed to the ways -of recluses, and have preposterously imagined that a little society -might be more agreeable to them than----" - -But here she stopped, catching sight of the troubled expression on his -face, of his downcast eyes and twitching lips. There was silence for a -moment, but he soon mastered his emotion. - -"I see plainly that I have blundered, as was not unnatural that I -should, through the lack of power of expressing myself clearly. -Believe me, Lady Caroline, that I am infinitely indebted to Lord and -Lady Hetherington, and to you especially. Yes, indeed, for I know -where the indebtedness lies--more especially to you for all the -kindness you have shown me, and the notice you have taken of me. And -I--I intended----" - -"Will you prove the truth of your protestations by never saying -another word on the subject? The give-and-take principle has been -carried out in our society as much as the most ardent democrat, -say yourself, Mr. Joyce, could have desired. I am sure you are too -good-natured to mourn over the hours torn from your great work and -frittered away in frivolous conversation when you know that you have -helped Lady Hetherington and myself to undergo an appalling amount of -country people, and that while the dead Wests may grieve over the -delay in the publication of their valour and virtue, the living Wests -are grateful for assistance rendered them in their conflict with the -bores. However, all that is nearly at an end. When the family is at -Hetherington House, I have no doubt you will be enabled to enjoy the -strictest seclusion. Meantime, there is only one festivity that I know -of which is likely to cause us to ask you to tear yourself away from -your chronicles." - -"And that is?" - -"A skating-party. Consequently dependent on the state of the weather. -So that if you are still hermitically inclined, you had better pray -for a thaw. If the frost holds like this, we are anticipating a very -pleasant afternoon to-morrow: the people from the barracks and some -others are coming over, the men report the ice in capital order, and -there's to be luncheon and that kind of thing. But perhaps, after all, -you don't skate, Mr. Joyce?" - -"Oh yes, indeed--and you?" - -"Nothing in the world I'm so fond of, or, if I may say so, that -I do so well. We wintered one year in Vienna; there was a piece of -water privately enclosed called the Schwann Spiegel, where the -Emperor--never mind!" - -The next day was very bright and very pleasant. Whether Walter Joyce -had prayed for a thaw or not, it is certain that the frost of the -previous night had been very mild as compared with its immediate -predecessors; the wind had shifted round to the south-west, the sun -had actual warmth, and weatherwise people assumed to notice a certain -dun effect of the atmosphere, and therefrom to presage snow. The -notion of the skating-party about to take place had been received with -immense delight at the barracks at Brocksopp, and at the various -houses to which invitations had been forwarded. To exhibit themselves -in becoming costume a little removed from ordinary every-day dress was -in itself a delight to the younger members of society; while the -elders, independently of their gratification in being brought -personally into contact with the Lord-Lieutenant of the county, knew -the capabilities of the Westhope cellar and kitchen, and recognised -the fact that luncheon under such auspices meant something more than -sandwiches and cheap sherry. The gathering was held on a large sheet -of water which was a pond, but which, being situate in the Westhope -domain, profited by the generally aristocratic nature of its -surroundings and was called a lake, lying about half a mile from the -house. A large tent had been pitched on the bank, and as of course it -was impossible to have any regular sit-down luncheon, refreshments -were perpetually going on, "snacks" were indulged in between the -performance of wild evolutions given out to be quadrilles, and gone -through to the music of the military band, which, with very blue -cheeks and very stiff fingers, was playing on the bank, and the -consumption of liquids, from champagne in tumblers to curaçoa in -wine-glasses, was tremendous. - -The party from Westhope had driven down in a break, in which a seat -had been offered to Walter Joyce by Lady Hetherington herself, who had -condescended to visit the library for the express purpose. It -happened, however, that the secretary was specially engaged on an -important letter, which it was necessary should be despatched that -day, so that he was compelled to ask to be allowed to find his own way -to the lake. When he arrived, there was already a large gathering, the -bank was lined with spectators, and there was a tolerably large number -of skaters. Lord Hetherington, wrapped in an enormous fur coat, with a -hood hanging half-way down his back, was standing looking on with a -somewhat melancholy expression. It had just occurred to him that -skating was a pleasant pastime, that to skate well was a thing of -which a man might reasonably be proud; at the same time he realised -the fact that it was a thing impossible to be done by proxy--he could -not get any man to skate for him and give him the credit of it. -Colonel Tapp, cleaner shaved and waxier moustached than ever, stood by -his lordship. The colonel did not skate--not that he could not; in his -youth he had been a proficient in the art, but he was not in his youth -now, and was so strapped, and busked, and laced into his various -garments, outer and inner, that he feared if by mischance he fell it -might either be impossible for him to get up at all, or something -might give way and cause him to be raised in a limp and unpresentable -condition. Mr. Biscoe had no such qualms, and was buckling on his -skates with all his characteristic impetuosity--old-fashioned skates, -cumbrous with woodwork, and with curly tops, very different from the -light and elegant trifles in which handsome little Mr. Boyd was -performing all sorts of figures before the countess and a group of -ladies gathered together on the bank, and trying to look as if they -were interested and amused. - -"Charmin' scene!" said Lord Hetherington, surveying the lake in a -birdlike fashion, with his head on one side. "Quite charmin'! Whenever -I see ice and that kind of thing, always reminds me of some humorous -adventures I once read in a book 'bout man on the ice; Pickwinkle, or -some such name. 'Commonly humorous book, to be sure!" and his lordship -laughed very heartily at his reminiscences. - -"You mean Pickwick, my lord," said the colonel. "Ah! hope what -happened to him won't happen to any of our party, specially our fair -friends who are pirouetting away there so prettily. If you recollect -the ice broke and Mr. Pickwick got a ducking. How's the ice, Boyd?" to -the boy who came spinning to the edge at the moment. - -"First class, colonel; couldn't be in better form; it's as hard as -nails and as slippery as--as old boots," said Mr. Boyd, after -hesitating an instant for an appropriate simile. - -"Ah! but just keep up this end, will you?" said Mr. Biscoe, looking -up, his face purple with the exertion of pulling at a refractory -strap. "I was past here yesterday morning and saw that at the other -end the men had broken up the ice for the deer or the waterfowl, and -consequently what's there is only last night's frost, binding together -the floating bits of yesterday, and likely to be very rotten." - -"Better have a board with 'Dangerous' or somethin' of that sort -written on it and stuck up, hadn't we?" suggested Lord Hetherington, -with Serpentine reminiscences. - -"Scarcely time to get one prepared, my lord," replied Mr. Biscoe, with -a slight smile. "Here, two of you men take a rope and lay it across -the ice just below that alder tree--that'll warn 'em; and you, Boyd, -tell 'em all to keep above that line. No good having any bother if one -can prevent it." And Mr. Biscoe hobbled down the bank and shot away -across the lake, returning in an instant, and showing that if his -skates were old-fashioned, he could keep pace with any of the young -ones notwithstanding. - -"Nice exercise--very," said the colonel, who was getting so cold that -he was almost prepared to risk the chance of a tumble, and "have a -pair on." "I do like to see a woman skating; there's something in it -that's--ah!" and the old colonel kissed the tips of his fingers, -partly to warm them, partly to express his admiration. "Now, who is -that in the brown velvet trimmed with fur?--she seems to know all -about it." - -"That's my sister Caroline," said his lordship, looking through his -double glass. "Yes, she skates capitally, don't she? Pretty dress, -too; looks like those people in the pictures outside the polkas, don't -it? Who's---- Oh, Mr. Joyce! How d'ye do, Mr. Joyce? My secretary; -very decent young man, that." - -The colonel merely coughed behind his buckskin glove. He did not think -much of secretaries, and shared Jack Cade's opinion in regard to the -professors of the arts of reading and writing. Just then Lady Caroline -approached the bank. - -"Colonel, are you inclined to back the service in general and your own -regiment in particular? Mr. Patey and I are going to have a race. Of -course he gives me a long start. Will you bet?" - -"Too delighted to have the chance of losing," said the colonel with -old-fashioned gallantry. "And I'll give odds, too--a dozen pairs to -half-a-dozen.--Patey, sustain the credit of the corps in every -particular." - -"Depend on me, colonel," said Mr. Patsy, a long-limbed lieutenant of -untiring wind. "Mr. Boyd, take Lady Caroline to her place, and then -start us." - -Walter Joyce had heard none of this colloquy. He had joined Mr. -Biscoe, with whom he had formed a great friendship, and was showing -him how to shift from the outer edge of an "eight," and shoot off into -a "spread eagle,"--an intricate movement requiring all your -attention,--when he heard a sharp crack, followed by a loud shout. -Without a word they dashed off to the other end of the lake where the -crowd was greatest. Joyce arrived first. What he saw was a large pool -of water where ice had been; floating on it a small round velvet cap -trimmed with fur. He looked hastily round. She was not there--then he -knew what had occurred. - -At that instant his arm was seized by Mr. Biscoe, who whispered-- - -"Wait, man! They're fetching the rope!" - -"Stand back," he cried, "it'd be too late! Let me go!" and the next -instant he was diving beneath the floating fragments of the ice. - - -"It was as near as a toucher," Mr. Boyd said; and he was right. When -they pulled him in, Joyce's arm, which had been wound round Lady -Caroline, had nearly given way, and the hand with which he had clung -to the ice-edge was all bruised and bleeding. Just as they were lifted -on shore he thought he saw her lips move. He bent his head, and heard -one word--"Walter!"--then he fainted. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. -BECOMING INDISPENSABLE. - - -"Master will be glad to see you, miss, in the library, if you please." - -"Very good, Wilson. Is Mr. Creswell alone?" - -"Mr. Radford, the agent from Brocksopp, have been with him for the -last half-hour, miss; but he's on the point to go. I saw him getting -on his gloves as I left the room." - -"Very good; tell Mr. Creswell I will be with him at once." - -The servant retired, closing the door behind her, and Marian was left -alone with her mother. They were in what they had become accustomed to -call "their own" sitting-room, with its bright chintz furniture and -tasteful appointments, as Marian had described them in her letter to -Walter. It was tolerably early morning, just after ten o'clock, and -the sun lit up the garden and the grass-plot, from which the slight -frost had not yet disappeared, though the snowdrops and the crocuses -were already showing their heads in the flower-borders, while the -ditch-banks of the neighbourhood were thick with promised crops of -violets and primroses. Mrs. Ashurst, whose infirmities seemed greatly -to have increased within the past six months, was sitting by the fire -with her face turned towards the window, enjoying the brightness of -the morning; but her back was turned to the door, and she had not -caught the servant's message. - -"What was that Martha said, my dear?" she asked. "My hearing's getting -worse, I think. I miss almost everything that's said now." - -"You had your back towards her, dear mother; and you were too -pleasantly occupied looking at the bright weather outside, and -thinking that we should soon be able to get you out for a turn up and -down the long walk, in the sun. Martha came to say that Mr. Creswell -wanted to see me in the library." - -"Again, Marian? Why, you were with him for hours--when was it?--the -day before yesterday." - -"Yes, mother; you're quite right. I was there, helping him with his -accounts. But there was some information which had to be supplied -before we could finish them. I suppose he has obtained that now, and -we can go on with our work." - -"You're a clever child, my dear," said the old lady, fondly stroking -her daughter's shining hair. - -"There's more use than cleverness in what I'm doing for Mr. Creswell, -darling mother. Don't you remember how I used to make out the -boarders' bills for poor papa, and the 'general running account' to be -submitted half-yearly to the governors? These are larger and more -intricate matters, of course, dealing as they do with the amount and -sources of Mr. Creswell's income; but I think I have mastered the -method of dealing with them, and Mr. Creswell, I imagine, thinks so -too." - -"It must be a very large income, my dear, to keep up all this place, -and----" - -"Large! You have no conception of it, mother. I had no conception of -it, nor of how it came in, and grew, and is for ever growing, until it -was before me in black and white. Original funds, speculations, -mortgages, investments in this and that, in ships and wharves and -breweries, in foreign railroads, and---- Ah! good heavens, it's enough -to turn one's brain to think of." - -And the girl pressed her forehead with her hands, and stood -motionless. - -"Yes, my dear," said the old lady, stretching out her hand, and, -drawing her daughter gently towards her. "I've thought more than once -that this house with its surroundings was scarcely the best school for -a young girl who had to face poverty, and battle for her livelihood. -And, indeed, I'm far from thinking that, even so far as I'm concerned, -it was wise that we should originally have come here, or that we -should have stayed so long. I wish you would propose about Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings again, Marian, for----" - -"For Heaven's sake, don't mention Mrs. Swainson's horrid lodgings -again, mother. Are you tired of your visit here?" - -"No, my dear, not in the least; I'm very happy, as happy as I ever -expect to be again in this world; but I know there's such a thing as -outstaying your welcome, and----" - -"Who has been putting such ideas into your head? Not those horrible -girls! They have nothing to do with the arrangements of the house, -they--there, I always lose my head when I think or speak of them!" - -"You do indeed, Marian; I cannot imagine how it is that you and Maude -and Gertrude don't get on together. You always seem to blaze up like I -don't know what, especially you and Maude! No, my dear, the young -ladies have always hoped we should stay on, but that of course is -impossible, and----" - -"Perhaps not impossible, mother!" - -"Why not, my dear? Do you think that---- Oh no, thank you! I guess -what you mean; I'm an old woman, I know, but I've still my faculties -left, and I can see through a millstone as well as most people of my -age, and though I'm not apt to be--I forget the word, but you know -what I mean--I declare once for all I won't do it!" - -"Won't do what, mother? I declare I have no notion what you mean." - -"Oh yes, you have, Marian. You heard what Dr. Osborne, whom I never -could abide, but that's neither here nor there, suggested about my -becoming Mrs. Caddy, or rather Mrs. Caddy's successor, when she went. -I'm sure you, who talk of having a spirit and a proper pride, ought to -see that I couldn't do that! Your poor father wouldn't rest in his -grave if he knew it! You remember he never would let me do anything -with the boys' clothes, or hair-brushes, or that--always would have a -wardrobe woman; and now to think of my becoming a housekeeper----" - -"But, mother--there! you shall not worry yourself with that idea any -more, and still we won't think just yet of Mrs. Swainson's nasty -lodging! Kiss me now, and let me go! I've been keeping Mr. Creswell -waiting full ten minutes." - -What change had come over Marian Ashurst to cause her to speak in this -way to her mother with flushed cheek, and kindling eye, and elated -look? What hope was dawning over the deep of that black blank sunless -future, which she had seen before her in all its miserable intensity, -its unavoidable dead level gloom, when first she arrived on a visit at -Woolgreaves? What was the vision which during all that period, but -especially since Tom Creswell's death, had haunted her waking and -sleeping, in company and in solitude, had been ever present to her -thoughts, and had wrung her heart and disturbed her mental peace more -keenly even than the thought of poverty, the desire for wealth? Dare -she do it? She could, she had but little doubt of that, but little -doubt of Mr. Creswell's daily increasing dependence on her and regard -for her. There was no one else in the world now in whom he seemed to -take the slightest interest. He had been deeply grieved at his son's -death, laid up for weeks afterwards--one would have thought that life -for him had lost all its zest and flavour; but lately, in going -through his business details with Marian, he had referred to the dead -lad almost calmly, and had spoken of him almost as he used to speak of -him in the days when his _brusquerie_ and bad style and consequent -unpopularity were gall and wormwood to his father's heart. She was -thoroughly and entirely essential to him. He had told her so. He had -said plainly enough that with no one else, no paid hirelings, no -clerk, however trustworthy or confidentially employed, could he have -gone through the private accounts, which showed the sources of his -revenue and its investment, and which had dropped into almost hopeless -confusion and arrear, from which they were only rescued by her quick -apprehension, clear business knowledge, and indefatigable industry. He -sat by in mute wonder, as she seized upon each point as it was laid -before her, and stopped him in the midst of his verbose and clumsy -explanation, to show how clearly she comprehended him, and how lightly -she undertook the unravelment of matters which seemed to him almost -hopeless in their chaotic disarrangement. - -What a wonderful girl she was, Mr. Creswell thought, as he looked at -her poring over the items of account as he read them out to her, and -marked the sudden manner in which her cheek flushed and her bosom -heaved and her eye dilated, while that ready pen never ceased in its -noiseless course over the paper. How thoroughly natural to be able to -throw herself so entirely into the work before her, to take evident -interest in what would be to others the driest detail, mere husk and -draff of soulless business! He knew nothing of Marian Ashurst, less -than nothing. That dry detail and those soulless figures were to her -more interesting than the finest fiction, the most soul-stirring -poetry. For they meant something much better than fiction; they meant -fact--wealth, position, everything. She remembered, even as she jotted -down from Mr. Creswell's loose memoranda or vague recollections of -sums invested here or securities lying there, or interest payable at -such and such dates--she remembered how, as a child, she had read of -Sinbad's visit to the Valley of Diamonds, and how, in one of the few -novels she had come across in later life, she had been breathlessly -interested in the account of the treasure in Monte Christo's grotto. -Those delights were fictional, but the wealth recorded in her own -handwriting before her own eyes was real--real, and, if she mistook -not, if the golden dreams had not warped her intellect and dazzled her -brain, enjoyable by her. Thoroughly enjoyable, not as a miserable -dependent permitted to bask in the rays of prosperity, but as the -originator of the prosperity itself, the mistress of the -fortune--the---- No wonder her cheek flushed; she felt her brain throb -and her head whirl; the magnitude of the stakes, the chances of -success appalled her. She had never realised them before, and, while -they were beginning to dawn on her, the desperate effect of her -proposed end upon one who had hitherto been loved by her she had -steadfastly contrived to ignore. - -If she dared to do it? Why should she not dare; what was it to dare, -after all? Was she to lose her chance in life, and such a chance, -simply because as a girl she had agreed to a foolish contract, which, -as it seemed, it was impossible could ever be fulfilled? Was her youth -to be sacrificed to a preposterous engagement, which, if it was -ratified at all, could only be ratified in grim middle age, when all -power of enjoying life would have fled, even if the hope of anything -to enjoy were then vouchsafed her? She knew too well that people would -be ready enough to bring accusations against her, but of what could -they accuse her? Of selfishness? but it would not be merely for her -own self-advancement that she would take advantage of the opportunity -that offered for bettering her position in life. Her mother was -thoroughly dependent upon her, and the past few months had made a -wonderful difference in her mother's physical condition. With plenty -of comfort and attention, with a command of certain luxuries and the -power of remaining perfectly quiescent, knowing that there was not the -smallest occasion for mental disquietude, Mrs. Ashurst's life might -last for some time, but the smallest mental worry would probably be -fatal. This Dr. Osborne had said, and it behoved Marian to think of -her mother before any one else in the world. - -And yet--and yet? Was it all to be forgotten and stamped out, that one -halcyon time of her existence, that one period in which she had ceased -to think of the struggle for living, and to love life for being as it -was? Was that one green oasis where she had rested so pleasantly, -forgetful of the annoyances past, not caring for the dangers to come, -as she lay beside the bubbling fountain of Hope, and drank of its pure -waters--was that to be swallowed up in the world's simoom, and to -vanish with every trace obliterated? Or was it but a mere mirage, -unsubstantial and unreal? As she battled with herself she pressed her -eyes tightly with her hands, and endeavoured to recall those scenes of -her life. She would see her lover, modest, earnest, hopeful, delighted -at his so-far success, sanguine as to that which was to come. She -would remember the cheery manner in which he would meet her doubts, -the calm self-reliance, never degenerating into bravado, with which he -spoke of their future as perfected by his efforts. Reminiscences, -looks, tones, each had their effect upon her. Then she would think of -that future, even when painted as glowingly as in Walter's fervent -expectation. And what was it? Genteel poverty at its best. The coming -together of two hearts in a cheap lodging, with a necessity for -watching the outlay of every sixpence, and a short career of starved -gentility as the coming result of a long life of labour and waiting. -And to give up all she had in prospect, all she had in command, she -might almost say, for this---- Poor Walter, poor Walter what would he -do? All his whole life was bound up in her, in her his every thought -centred. How would he---- Wait, though! She was not so sure of what -she was saying. Who was this Lady Caroline Somebody of whom he wrote -so strongly? Two or three times he had mentioned her in his letters. -Marian recollected having smiled at Walter's first description of this -great lady, who, though he tried to disguise it, had evidently been -struck with him; but now she seized on the idea with quite a different -object in view. Suppose she should carry out what she had in her -mind, it would be expedient for her to show to the world--to such -portion of the world as chose to be inquisitive or indignant about her -proceedings--that all shame, so far as breaking off the original -engagement was concerned, did not rest with her, that Walter himself -had not kept faith with---- She broke off the thread of her thought -abruptly, she could not battle with herself, she knew how vain and -ridiculous the accusation would be, how the object of it would shake -it from him with scorn; but it had a certain semblance of truth and -likelihood, and it would do to bring forward, in case any such defence -was ever needed. - -"Well, missy," said Mr. Creswell, looking up from the papers on which -he was engaged, "you see I've been compelled to send for my assistant; -I couldn't get on without her." - -"Your assistant is only too glad to come when she finds she can be of -use to you, sir. Has the pass-book come from the bank, and did you get -those returns you asked for from the Wharfdale Company?" - -"What a memory you have, child! I declare I had forgotten what had -stopped our work the other morning. I remembered only that you would -have gone on until you dropped, but for want of material. Yes, they -are both here." - -"I see; and the totals both approximate to the sums you mentioned. -There will be no difficulty now in preparing the rough balance-sheet. -Shall I begin that at once?" - -"No, no, missy; that is too large an undertaking for you. I'll have -that done down at the office. I'm only too thankful to you for the -assistance you've rendered me in getting the items into order, and in -checking matters which I could not possibly have submitted to an -uninterested person, and which I'm--well, I'm afraid I must say -it--too old to go into myself!" - -"Since you praise me, I have a right to claim a reward, and I demand -to be allowed to carry out my work to the end. I shall be proud of it, -proud to think that, when next these accounts are gone through, you -will be able to look at mine, and see that they do no discredit to -your book-keeping pupil." - -There was a slight change in Mr. Creswell's voice as he said-- - -"My child, I don't suppose this task will occur again, in my lifetime. -It would have stood over well until my poor boy came of age, had it -pleased God to spare him; but I have only done it now from a renewal -of the old stock-taking habit, a desire to see how my worldly affairs -stood before----" - -But the voice broke, and the sentence was left unfinished. - -"But surely, sir, it must be a source of pride, and of pleasure too, -to you, being, as you have often pointed out to me, the architect of -your own fortunes, to have this convincing proof of their stability -and your success?" - -"Success! my dear child; pride! pleasure! Ah, missy, a man must have -lived but a small life, if towards the end of it he looks for pride -and pleasure in the amount of his balance at his bankers', or for his -success in having heaped up more money than his fellows!" - -"No; not in that entirely, of course; but in having carried out the -main idea of his life, and----" - -"The main idea of my life that was in existence but a very little -while, missy! The main idea of my life was to make my poor Jenny a -good husband, and afterwards--when the boy was born--to leave him a -good and honoured name. Both those hopes are extinguished now, Marian. -The first went years ago, the last--you know when. And this," pointing -with his pen to the bankbook in front of him--"this has no power to -fill their place." - -Both were silent for some minutes; then Marian said, "You have shown -me how silly I was to speak as I spoke just now." - -"My child, you spoke as a child; as one who has never known--who, -please God, never will know--the vanity of such resources as those in -time of trouble." - -"I spoke as one who has known sorrow, Mr. Creswell, but who also has -known, and who never can too gratefully acknowledge, the kindness of -friends who were willing and able to help her. I think, I am sure, it -will be a source of satisfaction to you to remember that your position -enabled you to soften, very much to soften, the severity of the blow -which so recently fell upon my mother and myself." - -"There, indeed, you show me some use in what you are pleased to call -my 'position.' It is long since I have experienced such gratification -as in being enabled to show some neighbourly civility to the wife and -daughter of my old friend. Even if you had been personally very -different from what you are, I should have been pleased to do it in -remembrance of him; but your mother is the gentlest and the most -amiable creature in the world, while as for you----" - -He paused for an instant, and her heart beat high. Only for an -instant; she resumed her normal respiration as he laid his hand softly -on her head, and said, "If I had had a daughter, child, I could have -wished her not one whit different from you." - -She was quite calm again, as she said, "I am so pleased to hear you -say that, sir; for as you know, there are few to give me that -affection which you truly describe as being the only thing worth -living for. And I am so glad that I have been able to be of use to -you, and to have shown you, in a very poor way indeed, how grateful I -am to you for all your kindness to us before we leave you." - -"Leave me, Marian? What are you talking of, child?" - -"The fact," she replied, with a sad smile--"the dire hated fact. We -must go, sooner or later; and it is the best for me--for us, I -mean--that now it should be sooner. We have remained here longer than -we intended, many weeks longer, owing to--to circumstances; and we -have been, oh, so happy! Now we must go, and it will be better for us -to look the fact in the face, and settle down in Mrs. Swainson's -lodgings, and begin our new life." - -Mr. Creswell's face had grown very white, and his hands were plucking -nervously at his chin. Suddenly a light seemed to break in upon him, -and he said, "You won't go until you've finished the balance-sheet? -Promise me that." - -"No," said Marian, looking him straight in the face, "I'll finish -that--I promise you." - -"Very good. Now leave me, my dear. This unexpected news has rather -upset me. I must be alone for a little. Good-bye! God bless you!" And -he bent, and for the first time in his life kissed her forehead. -"You--you won't forget your promise?" - -"You may depend on me," said Marian as she left the room. - -Outside the door, in the bay-window where she had held her colloquy -with Dr. Osborne on the night of Tom's death, were Maude and Gertrude, -seated on the ottoman, one at work, the other reading. Neither of them -spoke as Marian passed; but she thought she saw a significant look -pass between them, and as she descended the stairs she heard them -whispering, and caught Maude's words: "I shouldn't wonder if poor Tom -was right about her, after all." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. -THE RUBICON. - - -Of course Walter Joyce was a hero of heroes for days after the -ice-accident. Lady Hetherington for the time being threw off every -semblance of insolence and patronage, complimented him in the highest -terms on his bravery and presence of mind, and assured him that he had -established a claim upon their gratitude which they could never repay. -Lord Hetherington was visibly affected, and had great difficulty in -thanking his sister's preserver in anything like a coherent manner, -lapsing into wild outbursts of "Don't you know!" and explaining that -it would be impossible for him to express the feelings and that kind -of thing under which he laboured. The gentlemen from the barracks, who -had hitherto regarded "old Hetherington's secretary-fellow" as a -person utterly unworthy of notice, began to think that they had been -mistaken. Young Patey sent a short account of the incident to the -sporting paper of which he was an esteemed correspondent, and made a -mental note to ask Joyce to play in a football-match which was about -to come off, and of which he had the direction. Colonel Tapp not -merely assisted in carrying Joyce's senseless body to the tent, -whereby he became much damped with drippings, which he nobly ignored, -but sent off one of the men for the surgeon of the depôt and evinced -an amount of interest and attention very rare in the self-sustained -old warrior. Mr. Biscoe said very little indeed; he had been the only -person close to the ridge of the broken ice, and he might have heard -what Lady Caroline whispered in Joyce's ear, and he might have formed -his own opinion of how matters stood from what he saw of them then. -But he said nothing. His lips wreathed into a peculiar smile two or -three times in the course of the evening, but nothing escaped them; -and as he was smoking his after-dinner cigar in his study, he chuckled -in a manner which was not to be accounted for by the perusal of -anything in the _Guardian_, which he was supposed to be reading, more -especially as he dropped his eyeglass, lay down the paper, and rubbed -his hands with intense enjoyment. Just before he dropped asleep, he -said-- - -"It's a thousand pities Joyce is not in orders! He'd have had -Chudleigh Rectory when old Whiting goes, as safe as possible; old -Whiting can't live long, and Chudleigh must be worth twelve hundred a -year." - -"Mr. Joyce have Chudleigh? Why should he have had Chudleigh? What -makes you think that, Robert?" asked the partner of his joys, from the -neighbouring pillow. - -"Ah! what indeed?" was all the answer Robert made, and was snoring in -an instant. - -What did Lady Caroline herself say? Very little. She had a slight -access of fever for three days, and kept her room for a week. The -first time Joyce saw her was in the library, where he was at work. She -came across the room with outstretched hand, and in a few very simple -words told him she owed her life to him, and had come to tell him so, -and to thank him for it. She was looking wonderfully beautiful; Joyce -thought he had never seen her to such advantage. The usual pallor of -her cheeks was relieved by a deep rose flush, her violet eyes were -more than ever luminous, and she had departed from her usual style of -coiffure, her chestnut hair being taken off her forehead, and gathered -up in a huge plait at the back of her head. - -"You recollect my first mention to you of the intention of having that -dreadful ice-party, Mr. Joyce?" said Lady Caroline, after the first -speeches of acknowledgment. - -"Perfectly; it was in this room, almost where we are sitting now." - -"Don't you remember--I hope you don't, and if you don't, it's silly in -me to remind you, though I can't help it--that I had been quizzing you -about the way in which you remained devoted to your writing, and -assured you that we should only attempt to tear you away from it, and -to get you to join us on one other occasion before we went to town, -and that was to this skating affair? It would have been but a poor -look-out for one of the party if you hadn't been there." - -"You're giving me much greater credit than I deserve, Lady Caroline; -and indeed during all the past week I've felt that I've been placed in -a false position in the hero-worship I've received. It certainly -happened that I got to the lake before Mr. Biscoe, and I was in -quicker than he, but that was because I was a little younger, and had -longer limbs. But what I've done to be made so much of, I really don't -know!" - -"You've saved my life, Mr. Joyce--and won my eternal gratitude!" - -And again she stretched out her hand. - -"The last is ample reward for the first, Lady Caroline! No other -recognition is necessary!" - -And he took her hand, but he merely held it for an instant, and bowed -over it and let it go. Did not even press it, never thought of -attempting to raise it to his lips. Lady Caroline withdrew it quietly -with a half laugh. He was the coldest, most insensate, impassible man -in the world, she thought; clever, and with a great amount of odd -indescribable fascination, but a perfect stone. - -He was not. He was a simple, single-minded man, unaccustomed to the -ways of flirtation, and utterly uncomprehending any of the mysteries -of the craft. He had felt naturally proud of the notice which Lady -Caroline had taken of him, had written of it to Marian, attributing -it, as he honestly thought it was due, to Lady Caroline's superior -education and greater love of books attracting her to him for -companionship. He was by no means an observant man, as but few -students are, but he had noticed, as he thought, a certain amount of -freedom in manners generally at Westhope, which was very different -from anything he had previously seen. He ascribed it to the different -grade of society, and took but little notice of it. He must, however, -have been more than blind not to have seen that in Lady Caroline's -conduct towards him at the time of the accident there was something -more than this; that in that whispered word, "Walter!" and the tone in -which it was whispered, there was an unmistakable admission of a -sentiment which he had hitherto chosen to ignore, and which he -determined to ignore still. - -Walter Joyce was but human, and it would be absurd to deny that his -vanity was flattered. He had a sufficient feeling for Lady Caroline, -based on gratitude, and nurtured by general liking, to experience a -certain compunction for her, placed as she must inevitably find -herself by his mode of treatment of her; but regarding that mode of -treatment he had never an instant's doubt. He had been brought up in -far too strict a school of honour ever to palter with himself for a -moment, much less with any one else. His heart was in Marian Ashurst's -keeping, his liege love, and in not one single pulsation should it be -false to her. All this he had thought out before the interview with -Lady Caroline, and his conduct then was exactly as he had prescribed -to himself it should be. He took no credit to himself for his coldness -and reserve, nor indeed did he deserve any, for he felt as calmly and -coldly as he acted. There was but one person in the world with power -to make his heart leap, his pulses fill, to rouse his energy with a -look, to cloud his hopes with a word. Why was she silent, then? She -could not know how critical the time might have been, she should never -know it, but he felt that he wanted her advice, advice on the general -questions of his life, and he determined to write to her in a way that -should elicit it. - -Thus he wrote: - - "Westhope, Friday. - -"MY DEAREST MARIAN, - - "I am still without any news of you, although this is the -third letter I have written since I received your last. I know that -you must have been very much and very specially engaged. I know, as -you will have gathered from my last hasty few lines, that poor Tom -Creswell is dead, and I feel that you must have been called upon to -your utmost to play the part of comforter, and to bring your keen -sympathies and busy brains into active use to restore something like a -semblance of ordinary comfort to that disordered and desolate -household. That you are the mainstay of the family in their trouble, -as of course few would be, I happen to know. Did I tell you how? Mr. -Gould, who is Lord Hetherington's principal business agent, showed me -a letter he had had from you, written in Mr. Creswell's behalf, about -the impossibility of the poor old gentleman's carrying out some sale -of land, about which he had been previously negotiating, under the -existing melancholy circumstances. It seemed so strange to see the -handwriting, so familiar, and so dear to me, addressed to another; -treating of business topics, and yet conveying information, which was -surely interesting to me, but of which I was yet ignorant. However, -you had your duty to do to the people who had been so kind to you, and -who had done much more than their duty by you during the time of your -trials, and I, who know you so well, have no doubt that you have done -it, not merely in the letter but in the spirit. - -"I suppose that by this time the first shock of grief will have passed -away, and that the household at Woolgreaves will be assuming something -like its normal state, and I presume, therefore, that you and Mrs. -Ashurst will be soon thinking of bringing your visit to an end, even -if by this time you have not already entered upon the lodgings which -you told me you had in view. I have no doubt that if this be so now, -or whenever it comes, both you and Mrs. Ashurst will much miss the -material comfort which you have enjoyed during the last few months. It -is impossible that it should be otherwise, but you, at all events, -have long had a clear idea of your future, and so long as you are with -her I do not fear Mrs. Ashurst's becoming a prey to despair. The woman -who battled so bravely by your dear father's side is not likely to -give way now that the heat of the contest is over, and a retreat, -humble indeed, but sufficient for existence, is provided for her. I -should almost rather fear the effect of the change upon you. I should -very much fear it if I laid much stress upon the opinions with which -the last letter I received from you was rife, opinions breathing the -very essence of worldly philosophy, but scarcely such as one would -expect to find in a young girl's letter to her lover. However, I do -not lay much stress on these opinions; I know that it is the fashion -just now to affect a cynicism which is not really felt, and to ascribe -to one's self faults and follies which have no substantial basis. I am -sure that you must have become infected with this idea, and that you -wrote under its influence, for nothing could be more opposite than -your new doctrine to the teachings of your youth and the example of -your parents. - -"It is time, however, my dear Marian, that we should each shake -ourselves free from any little affectations or delusions which have -hitherto possessed us, and make up our minds to look our position -resolutely in the face. I say both of us, because I am perfectly -conscious of having permitted myself to start in life as the victim of -a delusion of a very different kind from yours. I was as sanguine as -you were depressed, and when, on the day we parted, you had a notion -that there was an end to all happiness to be enjoyed mutually by us, I -bad a feeling that I was taking my first step towards the premiership, -or the governorship of the Bank of England. I pray God that your idea -was as baseless as mine. I _know_ that my position can never be a -great or a wealthy one, that all I ever get I must earn by my -handwork, and I am perfectly content, so long as I have your approval -of my steps, and you yourself as my reward. - -"But we must not dream any more, Marian, either of us, and you, -especially, must not suffer yourself again, for whatever reason, to be -tempted out of your regular sphere. All your attention henceforth must -be given to the joint interests which must be paramount in your heart. -Life progresses, dear. How the months have slipped away since we -parted! and we must not let youth and health and all that is best pass -out of it, and leave us still pursuing a flying shadow, and waiting -for better days till we shall come together. Not now, or ever, will I -take any step as regards my future without your counsel and consent, -considering as I do that that future is yours as much as mine. But I -want to be assured of your hearty interest and desire for co-operation -in my affairs, Marian. I feel sure I have it; I know it is almost -absurd in me to doubt its existence, but I have been so long away from -you, and you have been so long without writing to me, that I long to -read the assurance in your own hand. What would I not give--if I had -anything, poor wretch!--to hear it from your lips! but that is -impossible just yet. - -"Now, what we have to think of is definite and pressing. I must give a -decisive answer within a week, and you will see the bearing and -importance of that decisive answer on our future. I believe I could -stay on here for any time I chose. The big history-book, though I work -hard at it every day, is as yet only in its commencement, and I am -told that when the family goes to town next week I am to accompany -them, and to devote my time in London to purely secretarial work, -correcting my lord in his speeches, writing his letters, etc., while -the history of the Wests is to remain in abeyance until the autumn. -Everybody is particularly kind to me, and had I never 'lifted my eyes -to my master's daughter,' like the 'prentice of old, I might have been -very happy here. But I have other hopes in view, and a married private -secretary would be impossible. It's lucky, then, that there is another -opening--yes, Marian, a new chance, which, I think, promises, -splendidly promises, to realise all we have hoped--all I have hoped -for, all you can have justly anticipated--speedy union for us both, -under decent competence when united. Listen. - -"My old friend Byrne, of whom you heard so much when I was in London, -wrote to me some time since, telling me that my name had been -suggested as the correspondent then required for a London newspaper in -Berlin. I thought but little of it at the moment, for though, thanks -to old Dr. Breitmann, in the dear old days at Helmingham, I knew -myself to be a tolerable German scholar, I doubted whether I had -sufficient 'nous' and experience of the world for the post. I wrote -this to Byrne, and I think he was rather of my opinion; but the man -with whom the recommendation rested, and who knew me from having met -me constantly during those weeks I was living with Byrne, and knew -also some of my qualifications, as it was through him I obtained those -odd jobs on the press, declared that I would be the very man for their -purpose, and has so pressed the matter that I have agreed to let them -have their answer with my decision in a week's time. For that decision -I come to you. They offer me a year's engagement to start with, with -the certainty of renewal if I fulfil their expectations, and four -hundred a year, with the prospect of a rise. Four hundred a year, -Marian, and in a country where money goes much further than in -England! Four hundred a year, and we united for ever, and dear Mrs. -Ashurst for, of course, she will be with us--with a son as well as a -daughter to tend and care for her! Now you see why I made the -commencement of my letter rather sombre and gloomy, in order to -heighten the brilliancy of the finish. Now you see why I talked about -the lodgings and the privations--because there is no need to submit to -any of them. - -"Marian darling, you must answer this instantly! I have no doubt as to -the tone of your reply, but I can do nothing until I get it, and time -presses. Don't be afraid of any ill-feeling on the part of Lord -Hetherington or any one here. I have been able to render them -something of a service--I will tell you about it when we meet--and -they will all be delighted at anything which brings good fortune to -me. And now good-bye! Think how little time now before I shall hold -you in my arms! Write at once. God bless you, now and ever. - -"Your WALTER." - - -Sunday morning at Woolgreaves; bright splendid sunshine, the frost all -gone, and Nature, renovated by her six months' sleep, asserting -herself in green bud and lovely almond blossom, and fresh sprouting -herbage on every side. Far away on the horizon lay Brocksopp, the -week-day smoke cloud, which no wind dispelled, yet hovering like a -heavy pall over its sabbath stillness; but the intervening landscape -was fresh and fine, and calculated to inspire peaceful thoughts and -hopeful aspirations in all who looked on it. Such thoughts and such -aspirations the contemplation of the scene inspired in old Mrs. -Ashurst, who sat propped up by pillows in a large easy-chair in her -sitting-room, gazing out of the window, looking at nothing, but -enjoying everything with the tranquil serenity of old age. For several -years past there had not been much life in the old lady, and there was -very little now; her vital powers, never very strong, had been -decaying slowly but surely, and Dr. Osborne knew that the time was not -far distant when the widow of his old friend would be called away to -rejoin the husband she had so dearly loved in the Silent Land. - -"A case of gradual decay, my dear sir," said the little doctor, who -had been up all night, bringing the heir of a neighbouring squire into -the world, and who had stopped at Woolgreaves on his way home, and -asked for breakfast--a meal which he was then taking in company with -his host; "what we call the _vis vitae_ quietly giving way." - -"And by what I gather from you, doctor, I fear our old friend will not -be much longer with us?" - -"It is impossible to say, but I should think not. Sad thing for the -daughter; she's very much attached to her mother, and will feel the -loss very much. Wonderful girl that, sir!" - -"Miss Ashurst? She is, indeed!" said Mr. Creswell abstractedly. - -"Such a clever head, such individuality, such dominant will! Let her -make up her mind to a thing and you may consider it done! Charming -girl, too; simple, unaffected, affectionate. Dear me! I think I can -see her now, in frilled trousers, bowling a hoop round the schoolhouse -garden, and poor Ashurst pointing her out to me through the window! -Poor Ashurst! dear me!" - -Dr. Osborne pulled out a green silk pocket-handkerchief ornamented -with orange spots, buried his face in it, and blew a loud and long -note of defiance to the feelings which were very nearly making -themselves manifest. When he reappeared to public gaze, Maude and -Gertrude had entered the room, and the conversation took a different -turn. The young ladies thought it a lovely morning, so fresh and nice, -and they hoped they would have no more of that horrid winter, which -they detested. Yes, they had seen dear Mrs. Ashurst, and she seemed -much the same, if anything a little brighter than last night, but then -she always was brighter in the mornings. Miss Ashurst had gone for a -turn round the garden, her mother had said. And did uncle remember -that they must go to Helmingham Church that morning? Oh! Dr. Osborne -didn't know that Hooton Church was going to be repaired, and that -there would not be service there for three or four Sundays. The snow -had come through on to the organ, and when they went to repair the -place they found that the roof was all rotten, and so they would have -to have a new roof. And it was a pity, one of the young ladies -thought, that while they were about it they didn't have a new -clergyman instead of that deaf old Mr. Coulson, who mumbled so you -couldn't hear him. And then Dr. Osborne told them they would be -pleased at Helmingham Church, for they had a new organist, Mr. Hall, -and he had organised a new choir, in which Miss Gill's soprano and Mr. -Drake's bass were heard to the greatest effect. Time to start, was it -not? Uncle must not forget the distance they had to walk. Yes, Maude -would drive with Dr. Osborne with pleasure. She liked that dear old -pony so much. She would be ready in an instant. - -Marian went with the rest of the party to church, and sat with them -immediately opposite the head-master's seat, where she had sat for so -many years, and which, was directly in front of the big school pew. -What memories came over her as she looked across the aisle! Her eyes -rested on the manly figure and the M.B. waistcoat of Mr. Benthall, who -sat in the place of honour; but after an instant he seemed to -disappear as in a dissolving view, and there came in his place a bowed -and shrunken elderly man, with small white hands nestling under his -ample cuffs, all his clothes seemingly too large for him, big lustrous -eyes, pale complexion, and iron-gray hair. No other change in the -whole church, save in that pew. The lame man who acted as a kind of -verger still stumped up the pulpit-stairs, and arranged the cushion, -greatly to the horror of the preacher of the day, Mr. Trollope, who, -being a little man, could hardly be seen in the deep pulpit, and whose -soft little voice could scarcely be heard out of the mass of wood and -cotton velvet in which he was steeped to the ears. The butcher, who -was also churchwarden and a leading member of the congregation, -still applied to himself all the self-accusatory passages in the -responses in the Psalms, and gave them out, looking round at his -fellow-parishioners, in a tone of voice which seemed to say, "See what -an infernal scoundrel I am, and how I delight in letting you know it!" -The boys in the school were in the same places--many of them were the -same boys; and the bigger ones, who had been in love with Marian when -she lived among them, nudged each other as she came in, and then -became scarlet from their clean collars to the roots of their freshly -pomatumed hair. Fresh faces nowhere but there. Change in no life but -hers. Yes, as her eye rested on Mr. Creswell's solemn suit of black -she remembered that life had changed also for him. And somehow, she -could scarcely tell how, she felt comforted by the thought. - -They left the church when the service was ended, but it was some time -before they were able to start on their way home. Mr. Creswell came so -seldom into Helmingham, that many of his old acquaintances saw him -there for the first time since his wife's death, and came to offer -their long-deferred condolence, and to chat over matters of local -gossip. Marian, too, was always a welcome sight to the Helmingham -people, and the women gathered round her and asked her about her -mother's health, and of their prospects, and when they were going to -leave Woolgreaves; to all of which questions Marian replied with -perfect self-possession and without giving her querists any real -information. - -At last they set out homeward. Maude and Gertrude started off at a -rapid rate, and were soon out of sight. Mr. Creswell and Marian walked -quietly on together, talking on various subjects. Mr. Creswell was the -principal speaker, Marian merely answering or commenting on what he -said, and, contrary to her usual custom, never originating a subject. -Her companion looked at her curiously two or three times during their -walk; her eyes were downcast, her forehead knit, and there was a -generally troubled expression in her face. At length, when they had -nearly reached their destination, and had turned from the high-road -into the Woolgreaves grounds through a private gate, he said---- - -"You are strangely silent to-day, missy. Has anything happened to vex -you?" - -"To vex me? Nothing in the world. And it had not even struck me that I -was particularly silent. It seems to me as though we had been talking -ever since we left Helmingham." - -"We? I, you mean. You have been almost monosyllabic in your replies." - -"Have I? That was scarcely polite when you take the trouble to talk -to me, my kind friend. The fact is that I have been in a kind of -day-dream, I believe." - -"About the future, Marian?" Mr. Creswell said this so earnestly that -the girl looked up into his face. His eyes fell before hers as she -said, steadily---- - -"No; about the past. The sight of the school pew, and of another -person there in papa's place, called up all sorts of recollections, -which I was revolving instead of listening to you. Oh no!" she added, -after a pause; "I love dreaming of the past, because, though it has -here and there its dim hues and its one great and ineffaceable shadow -of papa's loss, it was, on the whole, a happy time. But the -future----" and she stopped suddenly, and shuddered. - -"You have no pleasant anticipations of the future, Marian?" asked Mr. -Creswell in a lower tone than he had hitherto spoken in. - -"Can you ask me--you who know me and know how we are circumstanced? I -declare I---- There! I'm always apt to forget myself when this subject -is broached, and I speak out without thinking how uncalled for and -ridiculous it is. Shall we walk on?" - -"Not for an instant. I wanted to say a few words to you. I was talking -to Dr. Osborne this morning about Mrs. Ashurst." - -"About mamma?" - -"The doctor said what cannot fail to have struck you, Marian, who are -so devotedly attached to your mother and so constantly in attendance -on her--that a great change has recently come over her, and that she -is much more feeble and more helpless than she used to be. You have -noticed this?" - -"I have indeed. Dr. Osborne is perfectly right. Mamma is very much -changed." - -"It is obviously necessary that she should not feel the loss of any -little comfort to which she may have been accustomed. It is most -essential that her mind should not be disturbed by any harassing fears -as to what might become of you after she was gone." - -Marian was silent. Her face was deadly pale, and her eyes were -downcast. - -"There is only one way of securing our first object," continued Mr. -Creswell, "and that is by your continuing in this house." - -"That is impossible, Mr. Creswell. I have already explained to you the -reason." - -"Not impossible in one way, Marian--a way too that will secure the -other object we have in view--your mother's peace of mind about you. -Marian, will you remain in this house as its mistress--as my wife?" - -It had come at last, the golden chance! She knew that he understood -she had accepted him, and that was all. Mr. Creswell went on -rapturously, telling her how his love had grown as he had watched her -beauty, her charming intelligence, her discretion, and her worth; how -he had been afraid she might think he was too old for her; how she -should prove the warmth of his affection and the depth of his -gratitude. All this he said, but she heard none of it. Her brain was -running on her having at last achieved the position and the wealth so -long a source of bitter misery and despair to her. The end was gained; -now life would indeed be something to her. - - -When they reached the house, Mr. Creswell wanted to go with her at -once to Mrs. Ashurst's room; but Marian begged to be alone for a few -moments, and parted with him at the door. As she passed through the -hall she saw a letter lying on the table addressed to her. It was the -letter from Walter Joyce. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. -MARIAN'S REPLY. - - -Marian held the letter in her hand for a moment, irresolute whether to -open it and read it at once, or to defer its perusal until another -opportunity, when her mind might be less perturbed, and the feeling of -conscious guilt then uppermost in her soul might have become quieted -and soothed down. She was fully alive to the knowledge that she had -behaved with the blackest treachery to Walter Joyce, had dealt him the -severest stab, the deadliest blow, of which she was capable, had--for -the time at least--completely blackened his future prospects; and yet, -although he had done nothing to deserve this base treatment--on the -contrary, had been for ever loyal and devoted to her under the most -adverse circumstances--her feeling for him was not one of pity, of -regret, or even of contempt, but of downright hatred. She knew that -she had been seriously to blame in neglecting all correspondence with -her lover of late, and she imagined that the letter, which she still -held unopened in her hand, was doubtless one of remonstrance or -complaint. He had no right now to address her after such fashion, or -indeed after any fashion whatever. This last thought struck her for an -instant with a touch of tenderness, but she quickly put it aside as -she thrust the letter into the bosom of her dress, and made her way -to her mother's room. - -She found Mrs. Ashurst seated in the bay-window, at the little -round table, on which lay her large-printed Bible, her bottle of -smelling-salts, and her spectacle-case. Mrs. Ashurst had always been a -small-framed, delicate-featured woman, but in these last few months -she seemed to have shrunk away almost to nothing. The light steel -frame of her spectacles looked disproportionately heavy on her thin -nose, and her sunk pallid face, with the complexion of that dead white -colour so often seen in old women, was almost lost in the plaits and -frills of her neat cap. Though the day was fine and bright outside, -the old lady evidently felt the cold; she wore a thick twilled woollen -shawl thrown over her shoulders, and her cosy armchair was in the full -view of the fire. She looked up as Marian entered, and, when she -recognised the visitor, gave a little smile of welcome, took off her -spectacles, closed her book, and put up her face for her daughter's -kiss. - -"What a long time you have been away, dear!" she said, in the softest -little voice. "I thought you were never coming back! I was wondering -what had become of you!" - -"Did you think Dr. Osborne had run off with me in the four-wheeler, -mother?" said Marian, smiling. "The knight and his means of flight are -about equally romantic! We're later than usual, dear, because Hooton -Church is closed for repairs, and we've been to Helmingham!" - -"Yes, I know that; but Maude and Gertrude went to Helmingham too, -didn't they? And I'm sure I've heard their voices about the house this -half-hour!" - -"There were all sorts of Helmingham people to speak to in the -churchyard after service--Mrs. Simmons, who is growing quite gray; and -old Mrs. Peak, whose feet are very bad again, so bad that she can -hardly get about now, poor soul; and young Freeman and young Ball, who -have taken Mr. Smyth's corn-chandlery business at Brocksopp, and go -over there next week; and Sam Baker, who is very much grown, and of -whom Mr. Benthall speaks very highly. They all asked very kindly after -you, mother!" - -"I'm very much obliged to them, my dear. I shan't trouble them long, -and----" - -"Now, don't you remember your promise never to talk in that way -again?" - -"Well, my dear, I won't if you don't like it. As for myself--however, -no matter! And did you walk back with Mr. Creswell?" - -"Yes, mother. Maude and Gertrude hurried on, and Mr. Creswell and I -came leisurely after." - -"You'll become quite old-fashioned if you're so much with Mr. -Creswell, Marian. Though why I say 'become,' I'm sure I don't know. -You've always been old-fashioned from a child up." - -"And am likely to remain so, dear, to all appearances!" said Marian, -with a soft smile, bending down and kissing her mother's forehead. -"Have you taken your medicine? No! then let me give it to you!" She -went to a small cabinet, and brought out a tumbler and a spoon. - -"I'm very glad you thought of the medicine, Marian," said the old -lady; "not that it does me the least good, let Dr. Osborne say -what he may, but because your fetching those things from that place -reminded me of something I wanted to say to you. I've been all this -morning--ever since I finished reading the lessons--I've been going -through the furniture in that parlour of Mrs. Swainson's in my mind, -and I'm perfectly certain there's nothing, not even a common cupboard, -to lock up anything!" - -"Isn't there, mother?" said Marian wearily. - -"Isn't there? No, indeed there is nothing, dear! Though you don't seem -to think much about it, it's a very serious thing. Of course, one -would keep the tea and sugar in the caddy, but there are many little -odds and ends that ought to be locked up, and---- Are you listening to -me, Marian?" - -"Yes, mother," she said, but her looks belied her words. She was -leaning against the mantelpiece, her head resting on her hand, and her -thoughts were evidently far away. - -"I wonder you had not noticed that, Marian, when we went over the -lodgings," pursued Mrs. Ashurst. "You're generally such a one to -notice these kind of things, and I've been used to depend upon you, so -that I think nothing about them. What shall we do about that? I -suppose Mrs. Swainson would not be inclined to buy a cabinet--a -second-hand one would do perfectly----" - -"I don't think we need go into the question. We shall never go to Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings!" - -"No? What shall we do, then?" - -"Remain here!" - -"Well, my dear," said the old lady, "if you change your plans so -often, how am I possibly to know where we're going, or what we're -going to do? Not that I want to be consulted, but I really might as -well be a chair or a table for the manner in which I am treated. I -thought you said, not more than a fortnight ago, that it was -impossible we could stop here any longer!" - -"So I did, mother; but circumstances have changed since then. This -morning, as we walked from church, Mr. Creswell asked me to become his -wife." - -"His wife! Mr. Creswell! you to--and you accepted him?" - -"I did!" - -The old lady fell back in her chair, her eyes closed, her hands -fluttering nervously before her. Marian ran to her mother and knelt by -her side, but Mrs. Ashurst revived almost immediately--revived -sufficiently to place her hand round her daughter's neck and to -whisper in her ear, "For my sake?" - -"I don't understand you, dearest mother." - -"For my sake? You've done this for my sake that I may be comfortable -and happy for the rest of my life, that I may have these things, -luxuries"--pointing with her hand round the room. "You've sacrificed -yourself! It must not be; listen, Marian--it must not be!" - -"Darling mother, you're all wrong, indeed you are--you're quite -mistaken." - -"Marian, it must not be! I'm a weakly woman, I know, but what answer -should I make to your dear father when I meet him again--soon now, -very soon, please God!--if I permitted this thing! What would he say -if he learned that I was selfish enough to permit you to sacrifice -yourself, you whom he so worshipped, to become the wife of an old man, -in order that I might profit by it? What would he think of Mr. -Creswell, who pretended to be his friend, and who would----" - -"Mother, dearest mother, you must not speak against Mr. Creswell, -please! Recollect he is to be my husband!" - -"Very well, my dear," said the old lady quietly; "I'll ask you one -question, and after that you'll never hear me open my lips on the -matter. Do you love Mr. Creswell?" - -"Yes, mother." - -"Better than any other man living?" - -"Ye-yes, mother." She hesitated for an instant, but the answer came -round and firm at last. - -"You swear that to me?" - -"Yes, mother." - -"That's enough, my dear! I shall be ready to face your father now." -Mrs. Ashurst then removed her arm from her daughter's neck and lay -back in her chair. After a minute or two she told Marian she had heard -the luncheon-gong sound, and that she would prefer being left alone -for a little. When Marian came up to kiss her before leaving the room, -the little old lady's white face became suffused with a glow of -colour, and the voice in which she prayed God to bless her child, and -keep her happy throughout her life, was broken with emotion, and -weaker and fainter than ever. - -When she was alone Mrs. Ashurst pondered long and earnestly over what -she had just heard. Of course, the question of Marian's future--and to -her parents as well as herself the future of every girl means her -marriage--had been often thought of by her mother. She and her dead -husband had talked of it in the summer evenings after supper and -before retiring to rest, the only time which the school-work left for -James Ashurst to devote to himself, and even then he was generally -rather fatigued with past, or preoccupied with growing work. It was -very general, the talk between them, and principally carried on by -Mrs. Ashurst; she had wondered when Marian would marry, and whom; she -had gone through the list of eligible young men in the neighbourhood, -and had speculated on their incomes and their chances of being thrown -with Marian in such little company as they kept. She had wondered how -they at home would be able to get on without her; whether she herself -would be able to undertake the domestic superintendence, as she had -done in the old days before Marian was of an age to be useful; whether -Marian would not settle somewhere near, where she might still take an -interest in her old work, and many other odd and profitless -speculations, to which the dominie would give an affirmative or -negative grunt or comment, wondering all the while how he was to meet -that acceptance which he had given to Barlow, and which became due on -the twenty-seventh, or whether his old college chum Smith, now a -flourishing physician in Cheltenham, would lend him the fifty pounds -for which he had made so earnest an appeal. But all this seemed years -ago to Mrs. Ashurst as she thought of it. For many months before her -husband's death the subject had not been mooted between them; the cold -calm external impassibility, and the firm determination of Marian's -character, seemed to her mother to mark her for one of those women -destined by nature to be single, and therefore somewhat fitted for the -condition. A weak woman herself, and with scarcely any perception of -character, believing that nearly all women were made in the same mould -and after the same type, Mrs. Ashurst could not understand the -existence of the volcano under the placid surface. Only gushing, -giggling, blushing girls fulfilled her idea of loving women, or women -lovable by men. Marian was so "odd" and "strange," so determined, so -strong-minded, that she never seemed to think of love-making, nor -indeed, her mother thought, had she been ever so much that way -disposed, would she have had any time for it. - -And now Marian was going to be married! Years rolled away, and the old -lady saw herself in the same condition, but how differently -circumstanced! Her James was young and strong and handsome. How -splendid he looked in his flannel boating-dress, when he came to spend -a hurried holiday at her father's river-side cottage! How all the -people in the church admired him on their wedding-day It was -impossible that Marian could love this man, who was quite old enough -to be her father,--love him, that is, in the proper way, in the way -that a husband should be loved. She could look up to him, and respect -and reverence him, and so on; but that was not the way in which she -had loved her James. She had not the least respect for him, but used -to laugh at him for his awkwardness, and great strong clumsy ways, -never knowing what to do with his long legs and his great feet, and -used to call him "a great goose;" she recollected that, and the -recollection brought the colour to her face, and made her smile in -spite of herself. Marian could never call Mr. Creswell "a great -goose," could never think of him so familiarly, no matter how long -they might be married. What could have brought it about? She had very -good eyes, she thought, and yet she had never suspected Mr. Creswell -of any partiality for Marian; any, at least, beyond that which a man -in his position and of his age might be expected to feel for a bright -intelligent girl with whom he was thrown into frequent contact. And as -for Marian, it was the last thing she should have expected of her. If -she were to think of marriage, which Mrs. Ashurst never contemplated, -she would not have suffered herself to be thrown away on a man so much -older than herself; she would have looked for some one whom she could -love. No; it was what had first struck her, and the more she thought -about it the more convinced she grew. Marian had sacrificed herself on -the shrine of filial duty; she had accepted the position of Mr. -Creswell's wife in order that her mother might be able to continue in -the house where all possible comforts and luxuries were at her -command. It was a good motive, a noble affectionate resolve, but it -would never turn out well, she was sure of that. There had been a -baronet once under James's tuition--what was his name? Attride, Sir -Joseph Attride, a young man of rather weak intellect--who had been -sent by his friends to be what James called "coached for something," -and who had a very large fortune; why did not Marian take him, or Mr. -Lawrence, the miller and churchwarden, who was very rich, and took so -much snuff? Either of them would have been much more suited to her -than Mr. Creswell. And so the old lady sat--chewing the cud of sweet -and bitter fancy, but always coming back to her proposition that -Marian had sacrificed herself for her mother's sake--throughout the -afternoon. - -When Marian left her mother she did not take the hint about the -luncheon-gong--the pretence under which Mrs. Ashurst had asked to be -left to herself. She knew that if her absence from the table were -remarked, it would be attributed to the fact of her being engaged in -attendance on her mother. She knew further that Mr. Creswell would not -expect to see her just then, and she calculated on having two or three -hours to herself free from all interruption. So she went straight to -her own room, turned the key in the lock, sat herself down in a low -chair opposite the fire--fires are kept constantly alive in that -north-midland county, where coals are cheap, and the clay soil cold -and damp--took Walter Joyce's letter from the bosom of her dress, -opened, and began to read it. It was a task-work which she had to go -through, and she nerved herself as for a task-work. Her face was cold -and composed, her lower jaw set and rigid. As she read on the rigidity -of her muscles seemed to increase. She uttered no sound, but read -carefully every word. A slight expression of scorn crossed her face -for a moment at Walter's insisting on the necessity of their good -faith towards each other, but the next instant it vanished, and the -set rigidity returned--returned but to be equally fleeting, to be -swept away in a storm of weeping, in a hurricane of tears, in a wild -outburst of genuine womanly feeling, showing itself in heaving bosom, -in tear-blistered face, in passionate rocking to and fro, in frenzied -claspings of the hands and tossing of the head, and in low moaning -cries of, "Oh, my love! my love!" - -It was the perusal of the end of Joyce's letter that had brought -Marian Ashurst into this state; it was the realisation of the joy -which, in his utter devotion to her, must have filled his heart as he -was enabled to offer to share what he imagined great prosperity with -her, that wrung her conscience and showed her treatment of him in its -worst light. It was of her alone that he thought when this offer was -made to him. He spoke of it simply as a means to an end--that end -their marriage and the comfort of her mother, whose burden he also -proposed to undertake. He said nothing of what hard work, what -hitherto unaccustomed responsibility, it would entail upon him; he -thought but of the peace of mind, the freedom from worry, the -happiness which he imagined it would bring to her. How noble he was -how selfless and single-minded! This was a man to live and die for and -with indeed! Was it too late? Should she go bravely and tell Mr. -Creswell all? He was sensible and kind-hearted, would see the -position, and appreciate her motives, though the blow would -be a heavy one for him. He would let her retract her consent, he -would---- Impossible! It might have been possible if she had read the -letter before she had told her mother of Mr. Creswell's proposal, but -now impossible. Even to her mother she could not lay bare the secrets -of her heart, disclose the slavery in which she was held by that one -ruling passion under whose control she had broken her own plighted -word, and run the risk of breaking one of the truest and noblest -hearts that ever beat. - -No; she could not do that. She was growing calmer now; her tears had -ceased to flow, and she was walking about the room, thinking the -matter out. No; even suppose--well, this proposal had not been made: -it would have been impossible to move Mrs. Ashurst in her then state -to Berlin, and she could not have gone without her; so that Walter -must either have gone alone, or the marriage must have been deferred. -And then the income--four hundred a year. It was very good, no doubt, -in comparison to what they had been existing on since papa's -death--very superior to anything they could have expected, quite a -sufficiency for one or two young people to begin life upon; but for -three, and the third one an invalid, in a foreign country? No; it was -quite impossible. Marian looked round the room as she said these -words; her eyes lighted on the bright furniture, the pretty prints -that adorned the walls, the elegant ornaments and nick-nacks scattered -about, the hundred evidences of wealth and taste which were henceforth -to be at her entire command, and repeated, "Quite impossible!" more -decisively than before. By this time she was quite herself again, had -removed every trace of her recent discomposure, and had made up her -mind definitively as to her future. Only one thing troubled her,--what -should be her immediate treatment of Walter Joyce? Should she ignore -the receipt of his letter, leave it unanswered, take the chance of -his understanding from her silence that all was over between them? -Or should she write to him, telling him exactly what had -happened--putting it, of course, in the least objectionable way for -herself? Or should she temporise, giving her mother's delicate state -of health and impossibility of removal abroad as the ground of her -declining to be married at once, as he required, and beginning by -various hints, which she thought she could manage cleverly enough, to -pave the way for the announcement, to be delayed as long as -practicable, that their engagement was over, and that she was going to -marry some one else? At first she was strongly inclined to act upon -the last of these three motives, thinking that it would be easier to -screen herself, or at all events to bear the brunt of Joyce's anger -when he was abroad. But after a little consideration, a better spirit -came over her. She had to do what was a bad thing at best; she would -do it in the least offensive manner possible,--she would write to him. - -She sat down at the little ink-bespattered, old-fashioned writing-desk -which she had had for so many years, on which she had written so often -to her lover, and which contained a little packet of his letters, -breathing of hope and trust and deep-rooted affection in every line, -and wrote-- - - "Woolgreaves, Sunday. - - "MY DEAR WALTER, - -"I have something to tell you which you must know at once. I can -approach the subject in no roundabout fashion, because I know it will -cause you a great shock, and it is better for you to know it at once. -I do not pretend to any doubt about the pain and grief which I am sure -it will cause you. I will tell you my reasons for the step I am about -to take when I tell you what I have already done. Walter, I have -broken my engagement with you. I have promised to marry Mr. Creswell. - -"I write this to you at once, almost directly after he proposed to me, -and I have accepted him. Does it seem harsh and coarse in me to -announce this to you so immediately? Believe me, the announcement is -made from far different motives. I could not bear to be deceiving you. -You will sneer at this, and say I have been deceiving you all along. I -swear I have not. You will think that the very silence for which you -reproached me in the letter just received has been owing to my dislike -to tell you of the change in affairs. I swear it has not. I had no -idea until this morning that Mr. Creswell liked me in any especial -way; certainly none that he would ever ask me to become his wife. - -"When he asked me, I had not had your letter. If I had, it would have -made no difference in the answer I made to Mr. Creswell, but it -deepens the pain with which I now write to you, showing me as it does, -to an extent which I did not before quite realise, the store which you -set by what is now lost to us for ever. I do not say this in excuse of -myself or my deeds; I have no excuse to make. I have tried, and tried -hard, to live in the position of life in which I have been placed. I -have struggled with poverty, and tried to face the future--which would -have been worse than poverty, penury, misery, want perhaps--with -calmness. I have failed. I cannot help it, it is my nature to love -money and all that money brings, to love comforts and luxuries, to -shrink from privation. Had I gone straight from my father's deathbed -to your house as your wife, I might perhaps have battled on; but we -came here, and--I cannot go back. You will be far happier without me -when your first shock is over. I should have been an impossible wife -for a poor man, I know I should--complaining, peevish, irritable; ever -repining at my poverty, ever envying the wealth of others. You are -better without me, Walter, you are indeed! Our ways of life will be -very different, and we shall never come across each other in any -probability. If we should, I hope we shall meet as friends. I am sure -it will not be very long before you recognise the wisdom of the course -I am now taking, and are grateful to me for having taken it. You are -full of talent, which you will now doubtless turn to good account, and -of worthy aspirations, which you will find some one to sympathise -with, and share the upward career which I am sure is before you. I -thought I could have done as much at one time, but I know now that I -could not, and I should be only acting basely and wickedly towards -you, though you will not think it more basely and wickedly than I am -now acting with you, if I had gone on pretending that I could, and had -burdened you for life with a soured and discontented woman. I have no -more to say. - - "MARIAN." - - -"You do not repent of what you said to me this morning, Marian?" said -Mr. Creswell in a whisper, as he took her in to dinner. - -"On the contrary," she replied in the same tone, "I am too happy to -have been able to gratify you by saying it." - -"What has happened with Miss A.?" whispered Gertrude to Maude, at the -same time; "I don't like the look in her eyes." - -And certainly they did look triumphant, almost insolently so, when -their glance fell on the girls. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. -DURING THE INTERVAL. - - -Saturday morning, the day after that on which Joyce had sent off the -eventful letter to Marian. Twelve o'clock, and no appearance as yet of -Lady Caroline Mansergh, who had sent word that she had a slight -headache, and would take her breakfast in her room. Lady Hetherington -hated people having breakfast in their rooms: it did not, of course, -inconvenience her in the least; she herself was never particularly -lively in the morning, and spoke very little, and disliked being -spoken to, so that it was not the loss of companionship that she -regretted; it was merely what people called a "fad" of hers, that the -household generally should assemble at the breakfast-table, and she -was annoyed when anything occurred to prevent it. - -Her ladyship was generally out of temper that morning, several things -having conspired to disturb her equanimity. They were about to move -the establishment to London, which was always a sore trial for her at -the best of times; but now that they were going up before Easter, it -was specially hard to bear. She had told Lord Hetherington, as she -pathetically narrated both orally and by letter to all her friends, -that it was useless their going to Hetherington House at that time of -the year, when they would find no one in town but members' wives who -had come up for the session, and the wretched people who live there -all their lives; there wouldn't be a soul they knew, and the draughts -at Hetherington House were perfectly awful; and yet Lord Hetherington -would go. She could not imagine what had come to him. The last -morning's post had brought her a letter from her milliner, asking for -money; and even the greatest ladies sometimes not merely dislike being -asked for money, but have difficulty in finding it; and the countess's -stock of ready cash happened to be very low at that moment. And the -new housekeeper who had come from Lady Rundell Glasse's, and who was -so highly recommended, had turned out a complete failure, and must be -got rid of before they go to town; and old Mrs. Mason, the town -housekeeper, must be telegraphed to to look out for some one else; and -altogether her ladyship was thoroughly upset, and, wanting some one to -vent her ill-humour on, and having lost her judgment as well as her -temper, thought she would find that some one in Lady Caroline. So, -when twelve o'clock arrived, and her sister-in-law had not put in an -appearance, the countess went to her room, entered upon her knock, and -found Lady Caroline buried in a huge chair in front of the fire -reading a book, while her maid was combing her hair. There was -scarcely anything which Lady Caroline liked better than having her -hair combed--not dressed, that she hated--but quietly combed and -brushed alternately. She almost purred under the sensation, like a cat -whose fur is smoothed the right way; it was pleasant, it was -refreshing, it soothed her, and put her on good terms with the world; -so that when she looked up and saw Lady Hetherington, to whom she was -not very partial, she received her with a smile, and expressed her -delight at the visit. - -"It is really immensely good of you to come and see me, Margaret, -especially when I know you're not fond of taking trouble in a general -way," she said, putting her book on to her lap and looking up -languidly. - -"They told me you were ill, or I don't know that I should have come," -retorted Lady Hetherington with some asperity. - -"Ah, that was quite right of them; I told them to say that.--You can -go, Phillips"--to the maid--"I'll ring when I want you.--I don't -suppose there's any harm in sending mendacious messages by the -servants; do you? It would be far more demoralising to them if one -were to tell the truth and say one was lazy, and that kind of thing, -because it would provoke their contempt instead of their pity, and -fill them with horrible revolutionary ideas that there was no reason -why they shouldn't be lazy as well as we, and all sorts of dreadful -things." - -"If I had thought it was mere laziness that kept you to your room this -morning, Caroline, I think my dislike 'of taking trouble in a general -way' would have influenced me in this particular instance, and saved -you the bore of my interrupting you." - -"That's where you're so ungenerous, Margaret. Not the smallest bore in -the world; the stupidity of this book, and Phillips's action with the -hair-brush combined, were sending me off to sleep, and you interfered -at an opportune moment to rescue me. How is West this morning?" - -"Very much as he was last night. Intent on distinguishing himself on -this--what do you call it?--irrigation scheme." - -"Oh dear, still harping on those channels and pipes, and all the rest -of it! Poor Mr. Joyce! there is plenty of work in store for him, poor -fellow." - -"Dreadful, will it not be, for that charming young man to be compelled -to work to earn his wages?" said Lady Hetherington with a sneer. - -Lady Caroline looked up, half astonished, half defiant. "Salary, not -wages, Margaret," she said, after a moment's pause. - -"Salary, then," said her ladyship shortly; "it's all the same thing." - -"No, dear, it isn't. Salary isn't wages; just as the pin-money which -West allows you isn't hire. You see the difference, dear?" - -"I see that you're making a perfect fool of yourself with regard to -this man!" exclaimed Lady Hetherington, thoroughly roused. - -"What man?" asked Lady Caroline in all apparent simplicity. - -"What man? Why, this Mr. Joyce! And I think, Caroline, that if you -choose to forget your own position, you ought to think of us, and have -some little regard for decency; at all events, so long as you're -staying in our house!" - -"All right, dear," said Lady Caroline with perfect coolness. "I'm -sorry that my conduct gives you offence, but the remedy is easy. I'll -tell West how you feel about it at luncheon, and I'll leave your house -before dinner!" - -A home-thrust, as Lady Caroline well knew. The only time that Lord -Hetherington during his life had managed to pluck up a spirit was on -the occasion of some real or fancied slight offered by his wife to his -sister. Tail-lashings and roarings, and a display of fangs are -expected from the tiger, if, as the poet finely puts it, "it is his -nature to." But when the mild and inoffensive sheep paws the ground, -and makes ready for an onslaught with his head, it is the more -terrible because it is so unexpected. Lord Hetherington's assertion of -his dignity and his rights on the one occasion in question was so -tremendous that her ladyship never forgot it, and she was extremely -unwilling to go through such another scene. So her manner was -considerably modified, and her voice considerably lowered in tone as -she said---- - -"No, but really, Caroline, you provoke me into saying things which you -know I don't mean. You are so thoughtless and headstrong----" - -"I never was cooler or calmer in my life! You complain of my conduct -in your house. It would be utterly beneath me to defend that conduct, -it requires no defence, so I take the only alternative left, and quit -your house." - -"No; but, Caroline, can't you see----" - -"I can see this, Lady Hetherington, and I shall mention it once for -all. You have never treated that gentleman, Mr. Joyce, as he ought to -be treated. He is a gentleman, in mind and thought and education, and -he comes here and does for poor dear stupid West what West is totally -unable to do himself, and yet is most anxious to have the credit of. -The position which Mr. Joyce holds is a most delicate one, one which -he fills most delicately, but one which any man with a less acute -sense of honour and right might use to his own advantage, and to bring -ridicule on his employer. Don't fancy I'm hard on dear old West in -saying this; if he's your husband he's my brother, and you can't be -more jealous of his name than I am. But it's best to be plainspoken -about the matter now, it may save some serious difficulties hereafter. -And how do you treat this gentleman? Until I spoke to you some months -since you ignored his presence; although he was domesticated in your -house you scarcely knew his personal appearance. Since then you bow, -and give him an occasional word, but you're not half so polite to him -as you are to the quadrille-bandsman when he is in much request, or to -the Bond Street librarian when stalls for some particular performance -are scarce. I am different; I am sick to death of 'us' and our 'set,' -and our insipid _fade_ ways, and our frightful conventionality and -awful dulness! Our men are even more odious than our women, and that's -saying a good deal; their conversation varies between insolence and -inanity, and as they dare not talk the first to me, they're compelled -to fall back on the second. When I meet this gentleman, I find him -perfectly well-bred, perfectly at his ease, with a modest assurance -which is totally different from the billiard-table swagger of the men -of the day; perfectly respectful, full of talk on interesting topics, -never for an instant pressing himself unduly forward, or forgetting -that he is what he is--a gentleman! I find a charm in his society; I -acknowledge it; I have never sought to disguise it. The fact that he -saved my life at the hazard of his own does not tend to depreciate him -in my eyes. And then, because I like him and have the honesty to say -so, I am bid to 'think of' my relations, and 'have regard for -decency!' A little too much, upon my word!" - -People used to admire Lady Caroline's flashing eyes, but her -sister-in-law had never seen them flash so brilliantly before, nor had -her voice, even when singing its best, ever rung so keenly clear. For -once in her life, Lady Hetherington was completely put down and -extinguished; she muttered something about "not having meant -anything," as she made her way to the door, and immediately afterwards -she disappeared. - -"That woman is quite too rude!" said Lady Caroline to herself, ringing -the bell as soon as the door closed behind her sister-in-law. "If she -thinks to try her tempers on me, she will find herself horribly -mistaken. One sufferer is quite enough in a family, and poor West must -have the entire monopoly of my lady's airs!--Now, Phillips, please to -go on brushing my hair!" - -Meantime, the cause of all this commotion and outbreak between these -two ladies, Walter Joyce, utterly unconscious of the excitement he was -creating, was pursuing the even tenor of his way as calmly as the -novel circumstances of his position would admit. Of course, with the -chance of an entire change in his life hanging over him--a change -involving marriage, residence in a foreign country, and an occupation -which was almost entirely strange to him--it was not possible for him -to apply his mind unreservedly to the work before him. Marian's face -would keep floating before him instead of the lovely countenance of -Eleanor de Sackville, erst maid of honour to Queen Elizabeth, who had -this in common with Marmion's friend, Lady Heron, that fame "whispered -light tales" of her. Instead of Westhope, as it was in the old days, -with its fosse, drawbridge, portcullis, ramparts, and all the -mediaevalisms which it is in duty bound to have, Walter's fancy was -endeavouring to realise to itself the modern city of Berlin, on the -river Spree, while his brain was busied in conjecturing the nature of -his forthcoming duties, and in wondering whether he possessed the -requisite ability for executing them. Yes! he could get through them, -and not merely that, but do them well, do anything well with Marian by -his side. Brightened in every possible way by the prospect before him, -better even in health and certainly in spirits, he looked back with -wonder on his past few months' career; he could not understand how he -had been so calm, so unexpectant, so unimpassioned. He could not -understand how the only real hopes and fears of his life, those with -which Marian was connected, had fallen into a kind of quiescent state, -which he had borne with and accepted. He could not understand that -now, when the hopes had been aroused and sent springing within him, -and the fears had been banished, at least for a while. For a -while?--for ever! The mere existence of any fear was an injustice to -Marian. She had been true and steadfast, and good and loving. She had -proved it nobly enough. The one weakness which formed part of her -character, an inability to contend with poverty--a venial failing -enough, Walter Joyce thought, especially in a girl who must have -known, more particularly in one notable instance, the sad results of -the want of means--would never now be tried. There would be no need -for her to struggle, no necessity for pinching and screwing. -Accustomed since his childhood to live on the poorest pittance, -Joyce looked at the salary now offered to him as real wealth, -position-giving, and commanding all comforts, if not luxuries. The -thought of this, and the knowledge that she would be able to take her -mother with her to share her new home, would give Marian the greatest -pleasure. He pictured her in that new home, bright, sunny, and -cheerful; the look of care and anxiety, the two deep brow-lines which -her face had worn during the last year of their residence at -Helmingham quite obliterated; the old, cheerful, ringing tone restored -to her voice, and the earnest, steadfast, loving gaze in her quiet -eyes; and the thought almost unmanned him. He pulled out his -watch-chain, took from it the locket containing Marian's portrait (but -a very poor specimen of photography, taken by an "arteeste" who had -visited Helmingham in a green van on wheels, and who both orally and -in his printed bills laid immense stress on the fact that not merely -the portrait, but a frame and hook to hang it up by, were in certain -cases "given in"), and kissed it tenderly. "In a very little time now, -my darling!" he murmured--"in a very little time we shall be happy." - -Pondering on his coming meeting with Marian actively suggested the -thought of the severance of existing ties, and the parting with the -people with whom he was then domesticated. He had been very happy, he -thought, all things considered. He was in a bright pleasant mood, and -thus indisposed to think harshly of anything, even of Lady -Hetherington's occasional fits of temper or insolence. Certainly Lady -Hetherington had always treated him with perfect courtesy, and since -the great day of the ice-accident had evinced towards him a marked -partiality. As for Lady Caroline--he did not know why his cheek should -flush as he thought of her, he felt it flush, but he did not know -why--as for Lady Caroline, she had been a true friend; nothing could, -exceed the kindness which she had shown him from the day of his -arrival among the family, and he should always think of her with -interest and regard. It was clearly his duty to tell Lord Hetherington -of the offer he had received, and of the chance of his leaving his -secretaryship. Or, as Lord Hetherington was scarcely a man of -business, and as Lady Hetherington cared but little about such -matters, and might not be pleased at having them thrust under her -notice, it would be better to mention it to Lady Caroline. She would -be most interested, and, he thought, with the flush again rising in -his face, most annoyed at the news; though he felt sure that it was -plainly a rise in life for him, and his proper course to pursue, and -would eventually give her pleasure. He would not wait for the receipt -of Marian's reply--there was no need for that, his bounding heart told -him--but he would take the first opportunity that offered of telling -Lady Caroline how matters stood, and asking her advice as to how he -should mention the fact to her brother. That opportunity came -speedily. As Joyce was sitting in the library, his desk an island in a -sea of deeds and papers and pedigrees, memorials of bygone Wests, his -pen idly resting in his hand, his eyes looking steadfastly at nothing, -and his brains busy with the future, the door opened, and Lady -Caroline entered. Joyce looked up, and for the third time within an -hour the flush mounted to his face. - -"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Mr. Joyce," said her ladyship, "but I -have two or three notes for to-night's post, and the house is so upset -with this coming departure for London, that there's not a quiet place -where one can write a line but here. I'll sit down at West's -writing-table and be as mute as a mouse." - -"There's no occasion for silence, Lady Caroline," replied Joyce. "I am -not specially busy just now, and indeed I was going to ask the favour -of a little conversation with you." - -"Conversation with me?" And Lady Caroline's voice, unconsciously -perhaps, became a little harder, her manner a little less familiar as -she spoke. - -"With you, if you please. I have some news to tell, and some advice to -ask." - -"I'm sure I shall be delighted to hear the first and to give the -second--that is, if advice from me would be of any use to you, which I -very much doubt." Neither voice nor manner were in the least relaxed, -and Lady Caroline's face was very pale, and rather hard and stern. -"However," she added, after a moment's pause, finding he did not -speak, and in a different tone, "under present circumstances I ought -to feel very little compunction in disturbing you, for you go to town -on Wednesday, and you know you prophesied for yourself the strictest -seclusion when once you arrived at Hetherington House." - -"That is the very matter on which I wanted to speak to you, Lady -Caroline!" - -"Indeed!" said Lady Caroline, with a rather disappointed air. - -"I don't suppose that I shall ever set foot inside Hetherington -House." - -"Why, you don't mean to say you have gone back to that originally -preposterous notion of remaining here after we have all gone? Do you -remember the man who was going to play Othello and blacked himself all -over, Mr. Joyce? There is such a thing as overdoing one's devotion to -one's duty; or rather, what one imagines one's duty." - -"No, I certainly do not intend to remain at Westhope." - -"You are pleased to speak in enigmas to-day, Mr. Joyce, and as I am -horridly stupid at such things, and never guessed one of them in my -life, I must be content to wait until you are further pleased to -explain." There was an impertinence about her ladyship sometimes in -look and tone which became her immensely, and was extraordinarily -provoking. - -"Seriously, then, Lady Caroline, I am thinking of leaving my present -occupation----" - -"Of leaving us--I mean Lord Hetherington?" interrupted Lady Caroline. - -"Yes. Not that I am not, as I ought to be, thoroughly grateful to his -lordship and to everybody of his family for their kindness and -consideration to me, but the fact is that I have received an offer of -employment which, perhaps, will suit me better, and----" - -"You would be very foolish not to avail yourself of it, then, Mr. -Joyce," again interrupted Lady Caroline, the chilling tone coming back -to her voice and the stern look to her face. - -"Will you kindly hear me out?" said Joyce. "I am not exaggerating when -I say that I am so grateful for all the kindness which I have received -in this house, that nothing would tempt me to leave it that did not -give me the chance of being enabled to gratify the one wish of my -life. The offer which has been made to me will, I think, do this. You -have been good enough, Lady Caroline, to admit me to sufficient -intimacy to talk of my private affairs, and when I mention the one -wish of my life, you will know that I mean my marriage with Miss -Ashurst." - -"Certainly," said Lady Caroline, full of attention; "and the -proposition which is under your consideration--or, rather, which I -suppose you have accepted--will enable you to carry out this plan?" - -"It will. There shall be no disguise with you. I am offered the post -of Berlin correspondent to a London newspaper. The salary would not be -considered large by you, or any one of your--you know what I mean," he -said, in answer to an impatient movement of her head. "But it is -sufficient to enable me to offer Marian the comforts which she ought -to have, and to receive her mother to live with us." - -"That will be very nice--very nice indeed," said Lady Caroline -reflectively. "I'm sure I congratulate you very heartily, Mr. -Joyce--very heartily. I think you said, when that man--what's his -name?--Lord Hetherington's agent--said something about a boy whom you -knew being killed--I think you said you had not heard from Miss -Ashurst for some time." - -"Yee; I did say so." - -"Have you heard since?" - -"No, I have not. But I can perfectly understand her silence, and you -would if you knew her. Marian is one of those persons who, on -occasions like this--of illness and death, I mean--are the mainstay of -the place wherever they may happen to be, and have to take the whole -burden of management on to their own shoulders." - -"Of course--certainly--no doubt," said Lady Caroline. "And she has not -written since the boy's death?" - -"No, not since." - -"It must have been a sad blow for the old father to bear. I don't know -why I call him old, though. What age is he?" - -"Mr. Creswell? About fifty-five, I should think." - -"Ah, poor man! poor man!" said Lady Caroline, with much greater -expression of pity for Mr. Creswell than when she first heard of Tom's -death. "You have written to Miss Ashurst, informing her of this -proposition, you say, Mr. Joyce?" - -"Yes, I wrote directly the offer assumed a tangible form." - -"And as yet you have not had her reply?" - -"No; there has not been time. I only wrote yesterday; she will not get -the letter until to-morrow." - -"True, a two days' post from here to--where she is staying. Then you -will look for her answer on Wednesday. Are you entirely depending on -Miss Ashurst's reply?" - -"I scarcely understand you, Lady Caroline." - -"I mean, you are waiting until you hear from Miss Ashurst before you -send your acceptance of this offer? Exactly so! But--suppose Miss -Ashurst thought it unadvisable for her to leave this place where she -is staying just now----" - -"That is an impossible supposition." - -"Well, then, put it that her mother's health--which you told me was -ailing--was such as to prevent her from undertaking so long and -serious a journey, and that she thought it her duty to remain by her -mother----" - -"'Forsaking all other, and cleaving only unto him,'" quoted Joyce with -gravity. - -"Yes, yes, my dear Mr. Joyce, very proper; but not the way of the -world nowadays; besides, I'm sure you would not be selfish enough to -have the old lady left behind amongst strangers. However, grant it -hypothetically--would you still take up this appointment?" - -"I cannot possibly say," replied Joyce, after a moment's pause. "The -idea is quite new to me. I have never given it consideration." - -"I think I should, under any circumstances, if I were you," said Lady -Caroline earnestly, and looking hard at him. "You have talent, energy, -and patience, the three great requisites for success, and you are, or -I am very much mistaken, intended for a life of action. I do not -advise you to continue in the course now opening to you. Even if you -start for it, it should be made but a steppingstone to a higher and a -nobler career." - -"And that is----" - -"Politics! Plunged in them you forget all smaller things, forget the -petty disappointments and discouragements which we all have equally to -contend with, whatever may be our lot in life, and wonder that such -trivial matters ever caused you annoyance! Wedded to them, you want no -other tie; ambition takes the place of love, is a thousand times more -absorbing, and in most cases offers a far more satisfactory reward. -You seem to me eminently suited for such a career, and if you were to -take my advice, you will seek an opportunity for embracing it." - -"You would not have me throw away the substance for the shadow? You -forget that the chance of my life is now before me!" - -"I am by no means so certain that it is the chance of your life, Mr. -Joyce! I am by no means certain that it is for the best that this -offer has been made to you, or that the result will prove as you -imagine. But in any case you should think seriously of entering on a -political career. Your constant cry has been on a matter on which we -have always quarrelled, and a reference to which on your part very -nearly sent me off just now--you will harp upon the difference of -social position. Now, distinction in politics levels all ranks. The -two leaders of political parties in the present day, who really have -_pas_ and precedence over the highest in the land, who are the -dispensers of patronage, and the cynosures of the world, are men -sprung from the people. There is no height to which the successful -politician may not attain." - -"Perhaps not," said Joyce. "But I confess I am entirely devoid of -ambition!" - -"You think so now, but you will think differently some day, perhaps. -It is a wonderfully useful substitute." - -"Would you advise me to speak to Lord Hetherington about my -intentions?" - -"I think not just yet, seeing that you scarcely know what your -intentions are. I think I would wait until after Wednesday. Good-bye, -Mr. Joyce; I have gossiped away all my spare time, and my letters must -wait till to-morrow. You will not fail to let me know when you receive -your reply. I shall be most anxious to know." - - -"This country beauty is playing fast and loose with him," said Lady -Caroline to herself, as the door closed behind her. "She is angling -for a bigger fish, and he is so innocent, or so much in love--the same -thing--as not to perceive it. Poor fellow it will be an awful blow for -him, but it will come, I feel certain." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. -SUCCESS ACHIEVED. - - -The step which Mr. Creswell took in asking Marian Ashurst to become -his wife was not taken without due care and consideration. As, during -a lifetime which had now exceeded half a century, he had been -accustomed to ponder over, sift, and weigh the most minor details of -even trivial schemes before carrying them out, it was not likely that -he would give less attention to a plan, on the successful or -unsuccessful result of which his whole hope of future earthly -happiness or misery might be based. The plan presented itself to him -squarely and from a business-like point of view, like all other plans -which he entertained, and had two aspects--as to how it would affect -himself, and how it would affect others. He took it under the first -aspect and thought it out carefully. His was a loving nature, always -desiring something to cherish and cling to. In bygone years he had had -his wife, whom he had worshipped with all the warmth of his loving -nature. She had been the sharer of his struggles, but it had not -been permitted to her to take part in his success; doubtless for the -best--for Mr. Creswell, like all men who have been thoroughly -successful, and with whom everything has gone straight, had perfect -trust and reliance on the dispensations of Providence--she had been -removed before his position was acquired. But she had left behind her -a son for whom that position was destined, for whom his father slaved -for years, adding to his wealth and establishing his name, all the -while hoping against hope that the boy might one day learn how to use -the former and how to maintain the latter. As the lad grew up, and -year by year showed his real nature more and more, so the hope grew -fainter and fainter in the father's heart, until it was finally -extinguished by Tom's death. And then he had no hope left in the -world, or rather he would have had none had it not been for Marian. It -seemed as though matters had been providentially arranged, Mr. -Creswell thought. The dependent state of Marian and her mother, his -power of assisting them, their being domiciled under his roof, which -had given him such opportunity of studying Marian's character, and had -so entirely reversed his original opinion of her, the assistance and -support she had afforded him during that sad period of poor Tom's -death,--all seemed predestined and prearranged. He knew her now. It -was not like taking a girl with whom his acquaintance had been slight, -or even one whom he might have thought he knew intimately, but whom he -had only seen on her society-behaviour, or in such guise as she would -naturally affect before any one whom she knew to be noticing her with -an object. He had seen Marian Ashurst under all circumstances, and in -all places. Under the strongest and hardest trials he had always seen -her come out brightest and best, and he had had full opportunity of -observing the sterling worth of her character. Was the end of all his -life of toil and strife to be an unloved and unloving old age? Was the -position which he had acquired to benefit no one but himself, and to -die out with him? Was the wealth which he had amassed to be filtered -away into dirty channels, or left for the benefit of charities? If -these questions were to be answered in the negative, where could he -find such a helpmate as Marian, where could he dream of looking for -such another? His conduct could scarcely be characterised as selfish, -he thought, if after the life of work and anxiety which he had passed, -he tried to render its latter portion peaceful and happy; and that, he -felt, was only to be done by his marriage with Marian. - -So much for himself; but how would it affect others? Marian, first? -Mr. Creswell was so true and so honourable a man that even in a case -like the present, where the interest of his future was at stake, he -would not have used an argument in the firm basis of which he did not -himself believe. In pleading his cause to Marian, he had somewhat -enlarged upon the responsibility laid on her in regard to her -mother--responsibility which, he argued, would be considerably -lightened, if not entirely removed, by her acceptance of the position -which he offered her. He believed this firmly, setting it down as an -undoubted gain to Marian, who would also have position, wealth, a -home, and a protector. What on the other side--what, as they said in -business, per contra--what would she lose? He hoped, nothing. To many -girls, to most girls, a husband old enough to be their father would -have been in the highest degree objectionable; but Marian was so -different to any girls he had ever seen. She was so staid, so -decorous, so old-fashioned; her life had been one of such quietude and -earnestness; she had always been associated with people so much older -than herself. And then she had never had any love-affair! Mr. Creswell -thanked Heaven for that. He could not fancy anything worse than -playing the part of Auld Robin Gray in the ballad, and being received -and accepted for the sake of his money, and, more than that, causing -the rejection of a poorer suitor. That would be too dreadful! No. -Marian had not been thrown in the way of that kind of thing; her -father had neither entertained company nor taken her into society, and -there was no one in the village, Mr. Creswell thought with a grave -smile, who would have ventured to uplift his eyes towards her. He -should not expect from her any romantic worship, any girlish devotion, -but, at all events, she would come to him heart-whole, without any -remains of previous attachments or bygone passions. - -Who else would be affected by this marriage? His nieces. At least, so -the world would think and say, but he should take care that the world -was wrong. On the contrary, if anybody rather benefited by the step he -was about to take, it should be those girls; principally because they -were the persons who would be selected for the world's pity, and also -because, he could not tell why, he rather disliked them. It was very -wrong, he knew, and he had often reasoned with himself, and struggled -hard against it, but the result was always the same. They were no -companions for him. He had tried very hard to make himself feel -interested in them, but, beyond his natural kinsman interest and -compassion for their forlorn state of orphanage, without effect. He -had examined himself as to the cause of this want of interest, and had -explained to himself that they were "frivolous;" by which he meant -that they had no notions of business, of money, of responsibility, of -the various items which make up the serious side of life. All those -qualities which made up the charms of Marian Ashurst were wanting in -these girls. In reality they were not in the least frivolous; they -were far better educated and informed than most young ladies of their -class, and one of them, Maude, had superior natural gifts. But they -were not after their uncle's bent, and he could not make them so. -That, however, was the exact reason why a man with such a keen sense -of honour as Mr. Creswell should treat them with even extra -consideration, and should be more than ever cautious that no such -proceeding as his marriage should injure them in any possible way. He -thought it was due to the girls, as well as advisable for many -reasons, that they should be made acquainted with the forthcoming -change as speedily as possible; and he took an opportunity of saying -so to Marian on the Sunday evening. Marian quite agreed with him. She -had never been enthusiastic on the subject of the girls, and she did -not pretend to be now. - -"It would only be right that they should know it at once," she said. -"I had rather, if you please, that you should tell them. It will come -from you better than from me. I suppose I shall get on very well with -them." - -"Get on very well with them!" repeated Mr. Creswell. "With the girls? -Why, of course you will, dearest. What reason could there be why you -should not get on with them?" - -"Oh, none in the least--of course not! It was a silly remark of mine." - -Mr. Creswell knew that she never made silly remarks; one of his avowed -boasts about her was, that she never spoke without thinking, and -always spoke at the right time. He felt a little uncomfortable, -therefore, and dropped the subject, saying, "I will tell them, then, -to-morrow morning. Did you speak to Mrs. Ashurst?" - -"I did!" - -"And she----?" - -"And she is almost as happy as her daughter at the thought! Is that -sufficient?" - -"God bless her!" said Mr. Creswell. "Her comfort shall be our first -care! Ah, Marian, you are an angel!" And Marian thought it mattered -very little how the young ladies might receive the announcement of -their uncle's intended marriage, so long as their uncle held that last -expressed opinion. - -The next morning, while the young ladies were at their music practice, -they received a message that their uncle wished to see them. It was -not meant to be a formal message, but it certainly smacked somewhat of -formality. Hitherto, whenever their uncle wanted them, he had been in -the habit of either coming to their room, or of calling them to him. -Maude looked astonished at the solemnity of the phrase "wishes to see -you" as the servant delivered it, while Gertrude raised her eyebrows -at her sister, and audibly wondered what it meant. - -They found their uncle seated in his library, the desk before him as -usual heaped with papers and accounts, and plenty of Miss Ashurst's -handwriting, so horribly neat and so painfully legible, as Gertrude -described it, to be seen everywhere. Mr. Creswell rose as they -entered, and received them with all his usual kindness; Maude thought -his manner was a little flurried and his face a little pale, but she -could not gather from anything she saw the reason of their summons. -Gertrude had made up her mind that somebody, she did not know who, had -proposed for Maude; but then she could not see why she was required to -be present at the announcement. - -There was rather an uncomfortable hitch in the proceedings at first, -Mr. Creswell obviously finding it difficult to touch upon the topic -which he had to treat, and the girls having no topic to touch upon. At -length, Maude broke the silence by saying, "You sent for us, uncle. -You wished to see us." - -"Yes, my dears--yes, girls, I wanted to see you, and I asked the -servant to beg you to step here, as I had something special that I -wanted to say to you, for you know, my dear children, that since you -came to live with me, I have always treated you as if you were my -daughters--at least, I hope I have; it has been my wish to do so." - -"You always have done so, uncle!" said Maude, decisively. - -"Always, uncle!" echoed Gertrude, who was best as chorus. - -"That's right, my dears. I'm glad you've found it so, as I intended -it. So long as I live you will find that you will be treated in the -same way, and I have made such provision for you in my will as I would -have made for my own daughters, if it had pleased God to give me any. -Having told you this, it's right that I should tell you of something -which is going to happen in this house, though it won't make any -difference in your position, nor any difference to you at all that I -know of, but yet it's right you should be made acquainted with it. -I'm--I'm going to be married!" - -There was a pause for an instant, and then it was Gertrude spoke. - -"To be married!" she said. "You going to be married!--Oh, uncle, I -know to whom! I'm sure I can guess!" - -"Guess, then, my dear," said Mr. Creswell. - -"To dear old Mrs. Ashurst, isn't it?" cried Gertrude. "I'm sure it is! -She is the very kindest, sweetest old thing and if she only had better -health---- I'm right, uncle, am I not?--it is Mrs. Ashurst?" - -"No, my dear," said Mr. Creswell, with hesitating voice and glowing -cheeks--"no, my dear, it's not Mrs. Ashurst!" - -"Ah, then, it's some one you have met away from Woolgreaves, away from -the neighbourhood, some one we don't know!" - -"No, indeed!" said Mr. Creswell, "it is some one you know very well, -and I hope love very much. It is Marian--Miss Ashurst." - -"Oh, my!" exclaimed Gertrude. - -"I wish you all happiness, dear uncle," said Maude, rising from her -seat, crossing to her uncle, and bending down to kiss him as he sat. - -"So do I, dear uncle," said Gertrude, following her sister. - -"Thank you, my dears," said Mr. Creswell; "thank you very much. I said -before that nothing should make any difference in your position here, -nor in my intentions for the future--nor will it. Besides, it isn't as -if it were a stranger--you've known Marian so long----" - -"Oh yes, we've known Miss Ashurst for some time!" said Maude, with -emphasis. - -"Exactly!" said Mr. Creswell. "As I say, it isn't as if it were a -stranger. Marian has been domiciled with us now for some time, and -there is no reason why, so far as you and she are concerned, things -should not go on exactly as they have done! At least, I know this to -be her wish and mine," he added, after a short pause. - -"Whatever is your wish, uncle, I'm sure Gertrude and I will be -delighted to fulfil----" - -"Delighted!" interposed Gertrude. - -"And I don't think Miss Ashurst will find us give her any trouble." - -"Miss Ashurst! Why not speak of her as Marian, my dear?" said Mr. -Creswell. - -"She has always been Miss Ashurst to me hitherto, and you know I'm not -going to marry her, uncle!" said Maude, almost brusquely. - -"What do you think of Miss A. now?" said Gertrude, when the girls were -back in their room. "I used to laugh about her being superior! But she -has shown herself superior to us with a vengeance! Fancy having her -for an aunt, and having to ask her permission to do this and that, and -go here and there! Oh, my! Why don't you speak, Maude? why don't you -say something about all this?" - -"Because I can't trust myself to speak," said Maude hurriedly. -"Because I'm afraid of blurting out something that were better left -unsaid." - -"Oh, then, you're not so pleased at the connection! I'm sure by the -way in which you wished your uncle happiness, one would have thought -that the dearest wish of your heart had been realised. What do you -think of Miss A.'s conduct, I mean as regards this matter?" - -"Just what I think of it, and have always thought of it as regards -every other matter, that it is selfish, base, and deceitful. That -woman came here with a predetermined plan of marrying uncle, and -chance has helped her to carry it into effect even more quickly than -she anticipated. Tom saw that; he told us so, if you recollect. Poor -Tom! he was a dull, unpleasant lad, but he was wonderfully shrewd, and -he saw through this woman's tactics in a minute, and determined to -spoil them. He would have done so, had he lived, and now, I've no -doubt that the very fact of his death has been the means of hurrying -uncle into taking this step!" - -"Do you think Miss A. cares for uncle, Maude?" - -"Cares for him--what do you mean?" - -"Well, of course, I don't mean to be awfully fond, and all that sort -of thing, like lovers, you know, and all that! What do you think -she--well, she's fond of him?" - -"Of _him_? No! she's fond of his name and his position, his money and -his influence! She's fond of Woolgreaves; she has become accustomed to -its comforts, and she does not choose to give them up!" - -"I don't know that Miss A. is to be particularly pitched into for -that, Maude," said Gertrude. "I think, perhaps, we ought to look at -home before making any such suggestions! We have become accustomed to -the comforts of Woolgreaves, and we--at least I--should be uncommonly -sorry to give them up!" - -"Well, but we have some claim to them; at all events, we are of -uncle's blood, and did not come here designedly, with a view to -establish ourselves here, as I'm certain this woman did! And when you -talk of our not giving up our present life--look to it!" - -"Look, Maude! what do you mean?" - -"What do I mean! That we shall have to change our lives very quickly! -You don't suppose Marian Ashurst is going to live her life with us as -constant reminders to her of what was? You don't suppose that we--that -I, at least, am going to waste my life with her as my rock ahead--not -I, indeed!" - -"Well, Maude," said Gertrude quietly, "I don't suppose anything about -anything! I never do. What you propose I shall agree to, and that's -all I know, or all I care for!" - - -It was Marian's wish that the marriage should be delayed for some -little time, but Mr. Creswell was of the opposite advice, and thought -it would be better to have the ceremony as soon as possible. "Life is -very short, Marian," he said, "and I am too old to think of deferring -my happiness. I am looking to you as my wife to brighten and soothe -the rest of my days, and I am selfish enough to grudge every one of -them until you are in that position! It is all very well for young -people to have their term of courtship and engagement, and all the -rest of it, but you are going to throw yourself away on an old man, -dear one"--and he smiled fondly and patted her cheek, "and you must be -content to dispense with that, and come to him at once!" - -"Content is not the word to express my feelings and wishes in the -matter," said Marian; "only I thought that--after Tom's death, so -soon, I mean--people might say that it would have been better to have -waited till----" - -"My dearest child, no waiting would restore my poor boy to me; and I -look to you to fill the void in my heart which his loss has made. As -for people talking, I have lived too long, child, to pay the slightest -heed to what they say. If such gossip moved me one jot, it would -rather strengthen my wish to hasten our marriage, as it supplies me -with an argument which you evidently have not perceived----" - -"And that is----" - -"And that is, that you may depend upon it these sticklers for the -proprieties and conventionalities, these worshippers of Mrs. Grundy, -will be very much interested in our movements, and highly scandalised -if, under these fresh circumstances which they have just learned, you -remain an inmate of my house. What has been perfectly right and -decorous for the last few months would be highly improper for the next -few weeks, according to their miserable doctrine. I should not have -named this to you, Marian, had not the conversation taken this turn; -nor even then, had you been a silly girl and likely to be influenced -by such nonsense. However much you might wish to go away and live -elsewhere until our marriage, you cannot. Your mother's state of -health precludes any possibility of her removal, and therefore the -only thing for us to do is to get the marriage over as quickly as -possible, and thus effectually silence Mrs. Grundy's disciples." - -"Very well," said Marian. "I suppose for the same reason it will be -better that the wedding should be here?" - -"Here? Why, my dearest Marian, where would you wish it to be?" - -"Oh, I should like us to go away to some quiet little place where we -were neither of us known, and just walk into the church----" - -"And just smuggle through the ceremony and slip away, so that no one -should see you were marrying a man old enough to be your father! Is -that it, pet? I ought to feel highly complimented, and----" - -"Please, not even in joke! No, no; you know what I mean. I cannot -explain it, but----" - -"I know exactly, darling, but we can't help it. If you wish it, the -wedding shall be perfectly quiet, only just ourselves; but it must -take place here, and I don't suppose our good neighbours would let it -pass off without some demonstration of their regard, whatever we might -say to them. By the way, I mentioned it to the girls this morning." - -"And what did they say?" Marian asked with, for her, rather unusual -eagerness. "Or, rather, what did Maude say; for Gertrude, of course, -merely echoed her sister?" - -"Poor Gerty!" said Mr. Creswell, smiling; "hitherto she has not -displayed much originality. Oh, Maude was very affectionate indeed; -came over and kissed me, and wished me all happiness. And, as you say, -of course Gertrude did and said ditto. Have they--have they said -anything to you?" - -"Not a word. I have scarcely seen them since yesterday." - -"Ah! They'll take an opportunity of coming to you. I know they are -delighted at anything which they think will conduce to my happiness." - -"Perhaps they don't think that your marrying me will have that -effect," said Marian with a half smile. - -"'Please, not even in joke'--it is my turn to say that now," said Mr. -Creswell. - - -It was a perfect godsend to the people of Helmingham, this news; and -coming so soon, too--a few months' interval was comparatively nothing -in the village--after the excitement caused by young Tom's death. They -had never had the remotest idea that Mr. Creswell would ever take to -himself a second wife; they had long since given up the idea of -speculating upon Marian Ashurst's marriage prospects; and the -announcement was almost too much for them to comprehend. Generally, -the feeling was one of satisfaction, for the old schoolmaster and Mrs. -Ashurst had both been popular in the village, and there had been much -commiseration, expressed with more warmth and honesty than good taste, -when it was murmured that the widow and Marian would have to give up -housekeeping--an overwhelming degradation in the Helmingham mind--and -go into lodgings. A little alloy might have existed in the fact that -no new element would be brought into their society, no stranger making -her first appearance as the "squire's lady," to be stared at on her -first Sunday in church, and discussed and talked over after her first -round of visits. But this disappointment was made up to Mrs. Croke and -Mrs. Whicher, and others of their set, by the triumph and vindication -of their own perspicuity and appreciation of character. They appealed -to each other, and to a sympathising audience round a tea-table -specially spread, directly authentic confirmation of the news of the -intended marriage was received, whether they had not always said that, -"That girl's heart was set on money!" That it would take some one "wi' -pounds an' pounds" to win her, and they had proved right, and she were -now going to be made mistress of Woolgreaves, eh? Money enough there, -as Mrs. Whicher told Mrs. M'Shaw, to satisfy even her longing for -riches. "But it's not all goold that glitters," said the thrifty -housewife; "and it's not all sunshine even then. There's givin' up -liberty, and suchlike, to who? It 'minds me of the story of a man as -cam' to market wi' a cart-load o' cheeses and grindstones. The cheeses -was that beautiful that every one wanted they, but no one bought the -grindstones; so seein' this, the man, who were from where your husband -comes from, Mrs. M'Shaw, the north, he said he wouldn't sell ere a -cheese unless they bought a grindstone at the same time; and so he -cleared off the lot. I'm thinkin' that wi' Marian Ashurst the money's -the cheese, but she can't take that wi'out the old man, the -grindstone." Scarcely anything was said about the singularity of the -circumstance that a pretty girl like Marian had not had any lovers. -Mrs. Croke remarked that once she thought there would be "something -between" Marian and "that young Joyce," but she was promptly put down; -Mrs. Whicher observing scornfully that a girl with Marian's notions of -money wasn't likely to have "taken up wi' an usher;" and Mrs. Baker, -little Sam's mother, clearing it would have been an awful thing, if -true, as she was given to understand that young Joyce had "leff for a -soldier," and the last thing heard of him was that he had actually -'listed. - -The wedding-day arrived, to Marian's intense relief. She had been -haunted by an odd feeling that Walter Joyce might even come to see -her, or at all events might write to her, either to induce her to -change her resolution or to upbraid her with her perfidy. But he had -made no sign, and there was no chance of his doing so now. She was -perfectly calm and composed, and steadily contemplated her future, and -had made up her mind as to her intended disposal of various persons so -soon as she commenced her new path in life. That would not be just -yet; they were going away for a fortnight to the seaside, Mrs. Ashurst -being left to the care of the girls, who were delighted at the charge. -Maude and Gertrude were to be bridesmaids, and no one else was to be -officially present at the ceremony save Dr. Osborne, who, as Marian's -oldest friend, was to give her away. The little doctor was in the -greatest delight at the match, which he looked upon as being somewhat -of his own making, though he thought it the best joke in the world to -rally Marian by telling her that "her housekeeper project was a much -better one than his. He had only thought Mrs. Ashurst might succeed -Mrs. Caddy for a little time; but, by George, little Marian all the -time intended to make herself head of the house for life!" The -villagers, however, were not to be balked of their ceremonial, The -bells were rung, general holiday was made, and Marian Creswell, -leaning on her husband's arm, walked from the church on flowers strewn -on the path by the girls who a few years before had been her -schoolfellows. - -"What an incongruous time for such a letter to arrive!" said Mr. -Creswell to Marian, as they were waiting for the carriage to drive to -the railway, handing her a paper. She took it and read: - - -"DEAR SIR, - General E. will be about six weeks hence. Please be -prepared. We calculate on you for B. - - "Yours truly, - - "J. GOULD." - - -"I can't understand it," said Marian. "Who is General E., and where -will he be about six weeks hence? Why are you to be prepared, and what -is B. that they calculate on you for?" - -"General E.," said Mr. Creswell, laughing, "is the general election, -and B. is Brocksopp, for which borough I've promised to stand. -However, there's enough of that now. My darling, I hope you will never -regret this day." - -"I am certain I shall not," she replied, quite calmly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. -THE GIRLS THEY LEFT BEHIND THEM. - - -It is a conventional, but by no means a correct, notion, that at the -time of a social separation those who are left behind have so very -much the worst of it. People imagine that those who remain must -necessarily be so dull after the departure of their friends; though -very frequently those departing are the very persons who have imported -gloom and misery into the household, who have sat like social old men -and women of the sea on the necks of the jovial Sindbads, who have -been skeletons at the feast, and wet blankets, and bottle-stoppers, -and kill-joys, and mirth-quenchers, and story-balkers. It is by no -means an uncommon occurrence, that there has been no such pleasant -music for weeks, in the ears of those remaining in the house, as the -noise of the wheels of the carriage speeding the parting guest. - -The people of Helmingham village, when they saw the carriage -containing Mr. Creswell and his bride spinning away to the station, -after indulging in a fresh theme of talk expressive of their surprise -at all that had happened, and their delight at the cleverness of the -schoolmaster's daughter, who had, as they politely expressed it, -"carried her pigs to such a good market," began to discuss the -situation at Woolgreaves; and as it had been universally agreed that -the day should be made a general holiday, the new-married folk, and -their kith and kin, their past and future, were served up as topics of -conversation, not merely at the various village tea-tables, but in the -commercial room of the Lion at Brocksopp, which, there being no -commercial gentlemen staying in the house, had been yielded up to the -tenantry on the estate, who were given to understand that Mr. -Teesdale, Mr. Creswell's agent, would attend to the bill. It was long -since the Lion had done such a roaring trade, for the commercial -gents, by whom the house was chiefly frequented, though convivial -souls, were apt to be convivial on small orders, "fours" of rum and -"sixes" of brandy; and it was only on exceptional occasions that old -Mr. Mulock, who "travelled in hardware," would suffer himself to be -fined a crown bowl of punch for having committed the uncommercial -atrocity of smoking in the commercial room before seven o'clock, or -young Mr. Cunynghame, who represented his own firm in Scotch goods--a -very pushing young gentleman, and a wonderful fellow to get on--would -"stand champagne round" when he had received a specially remunerative -order. But now Miss Parkhurst, in the bar, had not a second to -herself, the demand for her strong mahogany-coloured brandy-and-water -was so great; steaming jorums of "hot with" here, huge goblets of -"cold without" there; the fascinating Hebe of the Lion had not -dispensed so much drink at one time since the day when old Major Barth -was returned in the Conservative interest for Brocksopp--and the -major, it is allowed, was not merely a hard drinker himself, but -the cause of hard drinking in others; while as for old Tilley, the -jolly landlord, he was so overwhelmed with the exertion of -punch-compounding, that he took off the short-tailed snuff-coloured -coat which he usually wore, and went to work in his shirt-sleeves, -slicing lemons, mixing, strengthening, sweetening--ay, and tasting -too--until his pleasant face, always round and red, assumed a greater -rotundity and an extra glow, and his little, short, fat body ached -again with fatigue. - -But, as is very often the case in better society than that with which -we are now engaged, the amount of conversation indulged in had not -been in equal ratio with the amount of liquor consumed. They were very -quiet drinkers in those parts, and on great occasions sat round the -council fire as silently and gravely as a set of aboriginal Indians. -They had touched lightly on the subject of the wedding, but only as -men who knew that they had an interminable subject at hand, ready to -fall back upon whenever they felt disposed, and from that they had -jumped at a tangent to discussing the chances of the lambing season, -where they were far more at home, and much more practical in what they -had to say. The fertility of Farmer Gardner's ewes, or the -carelessness of Tom Howson, Farmer Jeffrey's shepherd, were topics -which went home to every man present; on which each had a distinct -opinion, which he delivered with far greater force and emphasis than -when called upon to pronounce upon an analysis of the guiding motives -of the human heart in connection with the choice of a husband. Indeed, -so much had to be said upon the subject of these "yows," that the -conversation began to become rather tiresome to some members of -the company, who were also tenants of the bridegroom's, but whose -business connections were rather with commerce than agriculture or -stock-purchase. These gentry, who would have sat interested for that -indefinite period known as "a blue moon," had the talk been of -markets, and prices, and "quotations," at length thought it time to -vary the intellectual repast, and one of them suggested that somebody -should sing a song. In itself not a bad proposition, but one always -hard to be properly carried out. A dead silence fell upon the company -at once, broken by Farmer Whicher, who declared he had often heard -neighbour Croke "wobble like a lavrock," and moved that neighbour -Croke be at once called upon. Called upon Mr. Croke was unanimously, -but being a man of uncertain temper he nearly spoiled the harmony of -the evening by declaring flatly that he would be "darnged" if he -would. A bookkeeper in one of the Brocksopp mills, a young man of -literary tendencies, who had erected several _in memoriam_ tombstones -to his own genius in the _Brocksopp Banner and County Chronicle_, then -proposed that Mr. M'Shaw, who, as the speaker remarked, "came from the -land which produced the inspired exciseman," would favour them with a -Scotch ballad. But Mr. M'Shaw declined the compliment. A thrifty man, -with a large family, Alick M'Shaw always kept himself in check in -every way where expense was concerned, and now for the first time for -years he found himself in the position of being able to consume a -large quantity of whisky, without being called upon to pay for it. He -knew that the time taken up in singing the ballad would be so much -time wasted, during which he must perforce leave off drinking; and so, -though he had a pretty tenor voice, and sang very fairly, he pleaded a -cold and made his excuse. Finally, everybody having been tried, and -everybody having in more or less cantankerous manner refused, it fell -upon Farmer Whicher to sing that ditty for which he was well known for -a score of miles round, which he had sung for nearly a third of a -century at various harvest-homes, shearing-feasts, and other country -merry-makings, and which never failed--it being a supposed joyous and -bacchanalian chant--in crushing the spirits and subduing the souls of -those who listened to it. It was a performance which never varied the -smallest iota in its details. The intending singer first laid down his -pipe, carefully knocking out the ashes, and placing it by his right -hand to act on emergency as a conductor's bâton; then, assuming a most -dismal expression of countenance, he glared round into the faces of -those surrounding him to sue for pity, or to see if there were any -chance of a reprieve, and finding neither, he would clear his throat, -which was in itself an operation of some magnitude, and commence the -song as a solemn recitation; but the chorus, which was duly sung by -all present, each man using the most doleful tune with which he was -best acquainted, ran thus: - - - "Then push, push, push the bowl about, - And push the bowl to me-ee-- - The longer we sits here, and drinks, - The merr-i-er we shall be!" - - -It is doubtful to what extent this doleful dirge might have been -protracted, for the number of verses is beyond human reckoning, and -the more frequently the choruses were repeated the more they are -prolonged; but Mr. Teesdale, the agent, a shrewd man of business, saw -his opportunity for making a cast, and accordingly, at the end of the -ninth stanza, he banged the table with such energy that his cue was -taken by the more knowing ones, and the harmony was abandoned as Mr. -Teesdale went on to say---- - -"Capital, bravo, excellent! Always look to you, Whicher, to sing us a -good song! First time I heard you sing that was years ago, when our -old friend Hardy gave us a supper on the occasion of opening his -dancing-school! Poor Hardy, not well, eh? or he'd have been here among -us. Push the bowl about, eh? Ah, we're likely to have plenty of that -sort of fun soon, if I'm correctly informed!" - -"What's that, Muster Teesdale?" asked Farmer Adams. "Somebody going to -be married, eh?" - -"No, no, one at a time, Adams, one at a time!" - -"What's comin' off then, Muster Teesdale?" - -"Well, it's expected that in about a couple of months' time there'll -be a general election, Mr. Adams, and you know what that means! I -wasn't far out when I said that the bowl would be pushed about at such -a time as that, was I?" - -"That 'ee warn't, Muster Teesdale, that 'ee warn't! Not that we hold -much wi' 'lections about here!" - -"That's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," said Mr. Croke, -who was accustomed to speak very loudly and freely on political -matters, and who was delighted at seeing the conversation taking this -turn; "that's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," he -repeated, looking round him, partly in triumph, partly to see if any -antagonist were making ready net and spear. "They Tories is 'lowed to -walk over the course and du just as pleases 'em!" - -"What sort of opp'sition could you expect, Muster Croke?" said Farmer -Spalding, puffing at his long churchwarden. "What good could Lib'rals -do in a borough like this here Brocksopp, for instance, where its -factories, and works, and mills, and suchlike, are held by rich folk -as ought to be Lib'rals and is Tories?" - -"Why ought they?" asked Mr. Croke; and while his interlocutor was -gathering up his answer, old Croke added, "I'm all for argeyment! I'm -a Tory mysel', as all my house have been, but I like to see a -opp'sition in everything, and a proper fight, not one-sided 'lections, -such as we have seen! Well, Muster Spalding, and why should our rich -party folk be Lib'rals and not Tories?" - -"Because," said Mr. Spalding, fanning away the smoke from before him, -and speaking with great deliberation--"because they sprung from the -people, and therefore their symp'ties should be wi' those of whom they -were afore they became rich." - -"Like enough, like enough, neighbour Spalding. That's what's called -mo-rality, that is; but it's not common sense! Common sense is, that -it's lucky they grew rich; they becam' Tories, which is the same thing -as meaning they wanted their money taken care of." - -"Ay, ay, that's it, Croke!" said Farmer Adams. "You've just hit the -way to put un! Lib'rals when they've got nothing and want everything, -Tories when they've got something and want to take care of it." - -"Well, but what's Tories goin' to do this time?" asked Mr. Moule, a -maltster in the town. "Our presen' member, Sir George Neal, won't -stand again! Told me so his own self last time he was in town for -quarter sessions--says he's too old. My 'pinion is his wife won't let -un. He's a rum un, is Sir George, and when he gets up to London by -himself, he goes it, they _du_ say!" - -"Nansense, Moule! I wunner at a man o' your sense talkin' such stuff," -said Farmer Croke. "That's playin' the Lib'ral game, that is!--though -I hey understood that Sir George won't come forrerd again." - -"And the Lib'rals is going to mek a tre-menjous struggle this time, -I've heerd," observed Moule. - -"Who are they goin' to bring forrerd, hev you heerd?" asked Mr. -Spalding with interest. - -"Well, I did hear, but I've a'most forgot," said Mr. Moule, who was of -a misty and a muddled nature. "No, now I reck'lect, it was young -Bokenham!" - -"What, son of old Tom Bokenham of Blott's Mills?" asked Mr. Spalding. - -"That same! Old man's terrible rich, they du say; firm was Bokenham -and Sculthorpe, but Sculthorpe broke his leg huntin' wi' Squire -Peacock's harriers, and has been out of business for some time." - -"He's just built two saw-mills in Galabin Street, hasn't he?" asked -Mr. Croke. - -"He has, and that plant in Harmer's Row is his too. Young Tom, he's -lawyer up in London--lawyer they say, tho' I thowt he was a parson, as -they told me he lives in a Temple, and he's wonderful clever in -speakin' at club-meetin's and suchlike, and they du say that he's not -only a Lib'ral, but"--and here Mr. Moule sank his voice to a whisper -to give due horror to his revelation--"that he's an out-and-out Rad.!" - -"You don't say that!" said Farmer Adams, pushing away his chair with a -creak, and gazing with terror at the speaker. - -"They du!" said Mr. Moule, delighted and astonished to find himself of -so much importance. - -"That's a bad job!" said Mr. Croke reflectively; "they carry a main -lot o' weight in this borough do they Bokenhams--a main lot of -weight!" - -And Mr. Croke shook his head with great solemnity. - -"Don't be down-hearted, Mr. Croke!" said Mr. Teesdale, who had been a -silent and an amused spectator of this scene. "No doubt Tommy -Bokenham, who they say is a clever chap, and who'll be well backed by -his father's banking account, is a formidable opponent. But I much -doubt if our side won't be able to bring forward some one with as good -a head on his shoulders and as much brass in his pockets!" - -"Where's he to be found, Muster Teesdale? Sir George won't stand, and -it would welly nigh break any one else's back in the neighbr'ood, -'less it were young Rideout, and all his money goes in horse-racin'!" - -"What should you say," said Mr. Teesdale, becoming very much swollen -with importance--"what should you say to Mr. Creswell?" - -"Muster Creswell! What, Squire Creswell, your master, Muster -Teesdale?" exclaimed Croke, completely astounded. - -"My _employer_--Squire Creswell, my _employer!_" said Mr. Teesdale, -making a mental note to refuse Farmer Croke the very next request he -made, no matter what it might be. - -"Are you in ayrnest, Muster Teesdale?" asked Spalding. "Is th' old -squire comin' forward for Parlyment?" - -"He is, indeed, Mr. Spalding," replied Teesdale; "and he'll make the -Lion his head-quarters, won't he, Mr. Tilley?" he said to the old -landlord, who had just entered bearing a steaming bowl of punch. - -"I hope so, sir--I hope so!" said the old man in his cheery voice. -"The Lion always was the Blue house. I've seen Sir George Neal, quite -dead-beat wi' fatigue and hoarse wi' hollerin', held up at that window -by Squire Armstrong on one side, and Charley Rea, him as left here and -went away to Chiney or some furrin part, on the other, and screechin' -for cheers and Kentish fires and Lord knows what to the mob outside! I -ha' got the blue banner somewhere now, that Miss Good, as was barmaid -here afore Miss Parkhurst came, 'broidered herself for Sir George at -last election." - -"Well, there'll be no banners or anything of that kind now, Tilley; -that's against the law, that is, but there'll be plenty of fun for all -that, and plenty of fighting, for the matter of that, for Mr. Creswell -means to win!" - -"He really du?" asked Farmer Croke, once more in high spirits. - -"He really does! And, what's more, I may tell you, gentlemen, as it's -no longer any secret, that Mr. Creswell's candidature is approved by -her Majesty's Government, by Sir George Neal, and by the principal -county gentlemen, so that there's no likelihood of any split in the -Conservative camp! And as for young Mr. Bokenham, of whom our friend -Moule here has told us so much, well--even if he is all that our -friend Moule has made him out--we must try and beat him even then!" - -Poor Mr. Moule! it was lucky he had enjoyed his temporary notoriety, -for the sarcasm of the agent speedily relegated him to his old post of -butt and dolt. - - -The household at Woolgreaves seemed to get on very well during the -absence of its legitimate heads. The young ladies rather gloried in -their feeling of independence, in the freedom from the necessity of -having to consult any one or to exercise the smallest system of -restraint, and they took pleasure in sitting with Mrs. Ashurst and -ministering to her small wants. They had always had a kindly feeling -towards the old lady, and this had been increased by her helplessness, -and by her evident unconsciousness of the manner in which the world -was slipping away from her. There is something sad in witnessing the -struggle for resignation with which persons, smitten with mortal -disease, and conscious of their fate, strive to give up all worldly -hopes and cares, and to wean their thoughts and aspirations from those -things on which they have hitherto been bent; but there is something -infinitely more sad in watching the sick-bed of one who is all -unconscious of the fiat that has gone forth, who knows, indeed, that -her strength is not what it was, but who has no idea that the hand is -already uplifted and the dart already poised. Mrs. Ashurst was in this -last-named condition; she had gradually been growing weaker and -weaker, but there were times when she plucked up wonderfully, and when -she would talk of things present, ay, and of things future, as though -she had years of life to run. The girls encouraged her to talk. Dr. -Osborne had told them that she must be "roused" as much as possible, -and they would sit with her and chatter for hours, the old lady taking -no inconsiderable share in the conversation. It was astonishing with -what unanimity they had hitherto kept off the subject of the marriage, -the very topic which one might have imagined would have been the first -they would have discussed; but whenever they came near it, whenever -they grew "warm," as children say in the old-fashioned game, they -seemed by tacit instinct bound to draw away and leave it untouched. At -last one day, after the married couple had been a week absent, Mrs. -Ashurst said quietly-- - -"Maude, my dear, weren't you very much astonished when you heard your -uncle was going to marry my Marian?" - -"No, dear Mrs. Ashurst. Though I'm not very old, I've lived too long -to be astonished at anything, and certainly that did not surprise me!" - -"It did me!" said Gertrude, for once venturing on an independent -remark. - -"And why did it surprise you, Gerty?" asked the old lady, already -smiling at the quaint reply which she always expected from Gertrude. - -"Because I didn't think uncle was so silly!" Gertrude blurted out. "At -least, I don't mean that exactly; don't misunderstand me, dear Mrs. -Ashurst, but I never thought that uncle would marry again at -all.--Such an idea never entered our heads, did it, Maude?" But Maude -declining to play chorus, Gertrude continued: "And if I had thought of -such a thing, I should always have set uncle down as marrying some one -more his own age, and--and that kind of thing!" - -"There is certainly a great disparity of years between them," said -Mrs. Ashurst, with a sigh. "I trust that won't work to the -disadvantage of my poor dear girl!" - -"I don't think you need fear that, dear old friend!" said Maude; and -then thinking that her tone of voice might have been hard, she laid -her hand on the old lady's shoulder, and added, "Miss Ash--I mean Mrs. -Creswell, you know, is wise beyond her years! She has already had the -management of a large household, which, as I understand, she conducted -excellently; and even did she show a few shortcomings, uncle is the -last man to notice them!" - -"Yes, my dear, I know; but I didn't mean that! I was selfishly -thinking whether Marian had done rightly in accepting a man so much -older than herself. She did it for my sake, poor child--she did it for -my sake!" And the old lady burst into tears. - -"Don't cry, dear!" said Gertrude. "You are not to blame, I'm sure, -whatever has happened." - -"How can you make yourself so perfectly ridiculous, Gertrude?" said -strong-minded Maude. "No one is to blame about anything! And, my dear -Mrs. Ashurst, I don't think, if I were you, I should look upon your -daughter's present proceeding as such an act of self-sacrifice. Depend -upon it she is very well pleased at her new dignity and position." -Maude knew that the Creswells were only "new people," but she could -not sit by and hear them patronised by a schoolmaster's widow. - -"Well, my dear, very likely," said the old lady meekly; "though she -might have been a baronet's lady if she had only chosen. I'm sure -young Sir Joseph Attride would have proposed to her, with a little -more encouragement; and though my poor husband always said he had -pudding in his head instead of brains, that wouldn't have been any -just cause or impediment. You never heard about Sir Joseph, Maude?" - -"No; Miss Ashurst never spoke to us of any of her conquests," said -Maude, with something of a sneer. - -"Well, ray dear, Marian was never one to say much, you know; but I'm -sure she might have done as well as any girl in the county, for the -matter of that. There was Sir Joseph, and young Mr. Peacock before he -went up to live in London, and a young German who was over here to -learn English--Burckhardt his name was, and I think his friends were -counts, or something of that kind, in their own country--oh, quite -grand, I assure you!" - -"I wonder whether uncle knows of all these former rivals?" asked -Gertrude. - -"No, my dear, of course he doesn't, and of course Marian would not be -such a goose as to tell him. I think I'll sleep for a bit now, dears; -I'm tired." - -They kissed her, and left the room; but before the old lady had -dropped off, she said to herself, "I wasn't going to let them crow -over me, or think that my Marian couldn't have had her pick and choice -of a husband, if she'd been so minded." - -Maude and Gertrude were going towards the garden, after leaving Mrs. -Ashurst; they saw the postman quitting the door, and the servant came -to them with a letter, which she handed to Maude. That young lady -opened and read it, but she could scarcely have gone through a few -lines, when a particularly stern expression came over her face, her -brows were knit, and her lips set tightly together. - -"What's the matter, Maude?" asked Gertrude, looking on in wonder. -"Who's the letter from?" - -"From our new mistress," said the girl; "at least, I expect she -intends we should regard her as such--Mrs. Creswell. They are to be at -home at the end of next week, and my lady thinks she shall require -what is now our music-room for her boudoir. We can have the room at -the end of the north passage. Can we, indeed! How very considerate! -And it's no use appealing to uncle! He daren't help us, I know! What -did I tell you, Gertrude? This woman won't rest until she has crushed -us into a state of mere dependence!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. -WEDNESDAY'S POST. - - -Lord Hetherington was a powerful man, who had great influence in most -things, but he could not get his letters delivered at Westhope before -eleven o'clock. Not that he had not tried. He had, as he expressed it, -"put on all kinds of screws," but he could not manage it, and if he -had had to wait for the regular delivery by the walking postman, it -would have been much later. A groom, however, always attended at the -nearest post-town on the arrival of the London mail, and rode over -with the Westhope letter-bag, which was unlocked by the butler, and -its contents distributed. There was never much curiosity or anxiety -about letters exhibited at Westhope, at least, amongst the members of -the family. Of course young visitors had occasional faint flutterings -of interest about a certain portion of their correspondence, but they -were too true to the teachings of their order to allow any vulgar -signs of excitement to be visible; while the letters received by Lord -and Lady Hetherington were too uniformly dull to arouse the smallest -spark of emotion in the breast of any one, no matter how excitably -inclined. Lady Caroline Mansergh's correspondence was of a different -kind. A clever woman herself, she was in the habit of writing to, and -receiving letters from, clever people; but they simply contained -gossip and small-talk, which might be read at any time, and which, -while pleasant and amusing when taken in due course, did not invite -any special eagerness for its acquisition. In a general way, Lady -Caroline was quite content to have her letters brought to her in -whatever room she might happen to be, but on this Wednesday morning -she was seated at the window as the postbag-bearing groom came riding -up the avenue, and a few minutes afterwards she stepped out into the -hall, where the butler had the letters out on the table before him, -and ran her eye over them. - -There it was, that plain, square letter, addressed to him in the firm, -plain hand, and bearing the Brocksopp postmark! There it was, his -life-verdict, for good or ill. Nothing to be judged of it by its -appearance--firm, square, and practical; no ridiculous tremors -occasioned by hope or fear could have had anything to do with such a -sensible-looking document. What was in it? She would have given -anything to know! Not that she seemed to be in the least anxious about -it. She had asked where he was, and had been told that he was at work -in the library. He was so confident of what Miss Ashurst's answer -would be, that he awaited its arrival in the most perfect calmness. -Would he be undeceived? Lady Caroline thought not just yet. If the -young woman were, as Lady Caroline suspected, playing a double game, -she would probably find some excuse for not at once linking her lot -with Walter Joyce's--her mother's ill-health seemed expressly suited -for the purpose--and would suggest that he should go out first to -Berlin, and see how he liked his new employment, returning later in -the year, when, if all things seemed convenient, they could be -married. She was evidently a clever girl, and these were probably the -tactics she would pursue. Lady Caroline wondered whether she was right -in her conjecture, and there was the letter, a glance at which would -solve her doubts, lying before her! What a ridiculous thing that -people were not allowed to read each other's letters! Her ladyship -told the butler to see that that letter was sent at once to Mr. Joyce, -who was in the library expecting it. - -The Westhope household was eminently well drilled, and the footman who -handed the letter on the salver to Mr. Joyce was as respectful as -though the secretary were my lord himself. He had heard Lady -Caroline's remark to the butler, and had turned the missive over and -scrutinised it as he carried it along the passages. The handwriting of -the address, though firm, was unmistakably feminine, and the footman, -a man of the world, coupling this fact with what he had heard, arrived -at the conclusion that the letter was from Mr. Joyce's "young woman." -He walked up to Joyce, who was busily engaged in writing, croaked out, -"A letter, sir," in the tone usually adopted by him to offer to dinner -guests their choice between hock and champagne, and watched the -secretary's manner. Joyce took the letter from the salver, muttered -his thanks, and turned back to his work. The footman bowed and left -the room, with the idea, as he afterwards remarked to the butler, that -if his suppositions were correct, the secretary was not "a fellow of -much warmth of feelin'; looked at it and put it down by his arm as -though it was a bill, he did!" - -But when the door had shut behind the retreating figure of the Mercury -in plush, Walter Joyce threw down his pen and took up the letter, and -pressed it to his lips. Then he opened it, not eagerly indeed, but -with a bright light in his eyes, and a happy smile upon his lips. And -then he read it. - -He started at the first line, astonished at the cold tone in which -Marian addressed him, but after that he read the letter straight -through, without evincing any outward sign of emotion. When he had -finished it he paused, and shook his head quickly, as one who has -received some stunning blow, and passed his hand rapidly across his -brow, then set to work to read the letter again. He had been through -it hurriedly before, but this time he read every word, then he pushed -the paper from him, and flung himself forward on the desk, burying his -face in his hands. Thus he remained during some ten minutes; when he -raised himself, his face was very white save round the eyes, where the -skin was flushed and strained, and his hands trembled very much. He -reeled, too, a little when he first stood up, but he soon conquered -that, and began silently pacing the room to and fro. Some time -afterwards, when asked to explain what he had felt at that crisis in -his life, Joyce declared he could not tell. Not anger against Marian, -certainly, no vindictive rage against her who had treated him so -basely. His life was spoiled, he felt that; it had never been very -brilliant, or very much worth having, but the one ray which had -illumined it had been suddenly extinguished, and the future was in -utter darkness. He was in the condition of a man who has been stunned, -or has fainted, and to whom the recollection of the events immediately -engrossing his attention when, as it were, he was last in life, came -but slowly. He had but a confused idea of the contents of Marian's -letter. Its general tenor of course he knew, but he had to think over -the details. The letter was there, lying before him on the desk where -he had thrown it, but he seemed to have an odd but invincible -repugnance to reading it again. After a somewhat laborious process of -thought he remembered it all. She was going to be married to Mr. -Creswell--that was it. She could not face a life of poverty, she said; -the comforts and luxuries which she had enjoyed for the last few -months had become necessary to her happiness, and she had chosen -between him and them. She did not pretend to care for the man she was -about to marry; she merely intended to make use of him as the means to -an end. Poor Marian! that was a bad state for her to be in--poor -Marian! She had jilted him, but she had sacrificed herself: he did not -know which was the more forlorn out-look. - -Yes, it was all over for him! Nothing mattered much now! Copy out -anecdotes from the family chronicles, hunt up antiquities and -statistics for those speeches with which Lord Hetherington intended to -astonish the world in the forthcoming session, settle down as -librarian and secretary for as long as this noble family would have -him, and when they kicked him out, live by literary hack work until he -found another noble family ready to receive him in the old capacity -for a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Why not? He smiled grimly to -himself as he thought of the Berlin proposition, and how astonished -old Byrne would be when he wrote to decline it--for he should decline -it at once. He had thought about it so often and so much, he had -allowed his imagination to feast him with such pictures of himself -established there with Marian by his side, that he felt utterly unable -to face the dark blank reality, heartbroken and alone. Besides, what -motive had he for work now? Experience had taught him that he could -always find sufficient press-work in London to keep body and soul -together, and what more did he want! What more did---- Was it all -real, or was he dreaming? Marian! was it all over between him and her? -was she no longer his Marian? was he never to see her, to touch her -hand, to hold her in his arms, to live in the light of those loving -eyes again? He thought of their last conversation and their parting, -he thought of his last letter to her, so full of hope and love; so -tender of the past, so full of the future; and there, to that, was the -reply lying before him announcing her marriage. Her marriage?--her -sale! She had bartered herself away for fine houses, horses, -carriages, dresses; she, daughter of James Ashurst, who had loved her -as the apple of his eye, and would as soon have thought of her -renouncing her religion as of her breaking her plighted word. - -It was odd he could not explain it; but his thoughts ran more upon her -than upon himself. He found himself picturing her as the squire's -lady, taking up her position in society, seated at the head of her -table, receiving her guests, at church in the pew which he recollected -so well. He recollected the back of her head, and the kneeling figure -as he had noticed it Sunday after Sunday when he sat amongst the boys -in the school pew immediately behind her, recollected the little grave -bow she would give him as she passed to her seat, and the warm -hand-pressure with which she always met him after morning service. His -love had lived on that warm hand-pressure for days; hers, it seems, -was not so easily nourished. He wondered at himself for the way in -which he found himself thinking of her. Had the mere notion of such -treatment ever entered his mind, he should have been raving; now when -the actual fact had occurred, he was quiet. He ran through the whole -matter in his mind again, pointed out to himself the deception that -she had practised on him, the gross breach of faith of which she had -been guilty, showed himself plainly how her desertion of him had -sprung from the basest motives, not from lack of love for him, not -from overweening fancy for another--those were human motives and might -be pardoned her--but from mere avarice and mammon-worship. And, after -cogitating over all this, he felt that he pitied rather than hated -her, and that as to himself he had not the remotest care what became -of him. - -A knock at the door, and before he could answer Lady Caroline had -entered the room. Joyce was rather pleased than otherwise at the -interruption. He had taken her ladyship so far into his confidence -that it was impossible to hide from her this last act in the drama, -and it was infinitely pleasanter that the explanation should come -about here--accidentally, as it were--than that he should have to seek -her with his story. - -"Good morning, Mr. Joyce." - -"Good morning, Lady Caroline." - -"Mr. Joyce, a triumphal procession, consisting of Lady Hetherington -and the new housekeeper, is marching round the house, settling what's -to be done in each room between this and the autumn. I confess I have -not sufficient strength of mind to be present at those solemn rites, -and as this is the only room in the house in which no change ever -takes place--save the increase of dust, and lately the acquisition of -a _bonâ-fide_ student--I have taken refuge here, and have brought the -_Times_ in order that I may be sure not to disturb you by chattering." - -"You will not disturb me in the least, I assure you." - -"Why, what a dreadfully hollow voice! and--Mr. Joyce," continued Lady -Caroline, changing her tone, "how very unwell you look--so strangely -pale and drawn! Is anything the matter?" - -"Nothing, nothing in the least!" he replied. "You have been good -enough to let me talk to you about myself and my hopes and -aspirations, Lady Caroline Mansergh. You have probably forgotten"--ah, -man, devoid of the merest accidence of worldly grammar!--"you have -probably forgotten that this is the morning on which I was to expect -my answer from Miss Ashurst. It has come! It is here!" and he stooped -forward, picked from the table the letter, and handed it to her. - -Lady Caroline seemed rather surprised at this mode of proceeding. She -took the letter from Walter's hand, but held it unopened before her, -and said-- - -"You wish me to read it?" - -"If you please," he replied. "There is no other way by which you could -exactly comprehend the situation, and I wish you to be made aware of -it--and--and to advise me in it." - -Lady Caroline blushed slightly as she heard these last words, but she -said nothing--merely bowed and opened the letter. As she read it, the -flush which had died away returned more brightly than before, her eyes -could not be seen under their downcast lids, but the brows were knit, -the nostrils trembled, and the mouth grew hard and rigid. She read the -letter through twice; then she looked up, and her voice shook as she -said-- - -"That is a wicked and base letter, very heartless and very base!" - -"Lady Caroline!" interrupted Joyce appealingly. - -"What! do you seek to defend it?--no, not to defend it, for in your -own heart you must know I am right in my condemnation of it, but to -plead for it. You don't like to hear me speak harshly of it--that's so -like a man I tell you that it is a heartless and an unwomanly letter! -'Deepens the pain with which she writes,' indeed! 'Deepens the pain!' -and what about yours? It is her nature to love money and comforts, and -luxuries, and to shrink from privations. Her nature! What was she bred -to, this duchess?" - -In his misery at hearing Marian thus spoken of, since the blow had -fallen upon him he had never been so miserable as then, when she was -attacked, and he saw the impossibility of defending her. Joyce could -not help remarking that he had never noticed Lady Caroline's beauty so -much as at that moment, when her eyes were flashing and her ripe lips -curling with contempt. But he was silent, and she proceeded-- - -"She says you are better without her, and, though of course you doubt -it, I am mightily disposed to agree with her! I--Mr. Joyce!" said her -ladyship, suddenly softening her tone, "believe me, I feel earnestly -and deeply for you under this blow! I fear it is none the less severe -because you don't show how much you suffer. This--this young lady's -decision will of course materially affect the future which you had -plotted out for yourself, and of which we spoke the last time we were -here together?" - -"Oh yes, of course. Now I shall--by the way, Lady Caroline, I -recollect now--it scarcely impressed me then--that during that -conversation you seemed to have some doubts as to what Marian--as to -what might be the reply to the letter which I told you I had written?" - -"I certainly had." - -"And you endeavoured to wean me from the miserable self-conceit under -which I was labouring, and failed. I recollect your hints now. Tell -me, Lady Caroline, why was I so blind? What made you suspect?" - -"My dear Mr. Joyce, you were blind because you were in love! I -suspected because, being merely a looker-on--an interested one, I -acknowledge, for I had a great interest in your welfare, but still -merely a looker-on, and therefore, according to the old proverb, -seeing most of the game--I could not help noticing that the peculiar -position of affairs, and the length of time you remained without any -news of your _fiancée_ afforded grave grounds of suspicion." - -"Yes," said poor Walter; "as you say, I am blind. I never noticed -that." - -"Now, Mr. Joyce," said Lady Caroline, "the question is not with the -past, but with the future. What do you intend doing?" - -"I have scarcely thought. It matters very little." - -"Pardon my saying that it matters very much. Do you think of taking up -this appointment for the newspaper that you spoke of--this -correspondentship in Berlin?" - -"No; I think not. I really don't know--I thought of remaining as I -am." - -"What! pass the rest of your life in writing Lord Hetherington's -letters, and cramming him for speeches which he will never deliver?" - -"It is an honest and an easy way of earning a living, at all events." - -"Of earning a living? And are you going to content yourself with -'earning your living,' Mr. Joyce?" - -"Oh, Lady Caroline, why should I do anything else? The desire for -making money has gone from me altogether with the receipt and perusal -of that letter. She was the spur that urged me on; my dreams of fame -and wealth and position were for her, not for myself; and now----" - -"And now you are going to abandon it all--do you mean to tell me that? -That you, a young man possessing intellect, and energy, and industry, -with a career before you, are about to abandon that career, and to -condemn yourself to vegetation--sheer and simple vegetation, mind, not -life--merely because you have been grossly deceived by a woman, who, -your common sense ought to have told you, has been playing you false -for months, and who, as she herself confesses, has all her life rated -the worthiness of people as to what they were worth in money? You are -clearly not in your right mind, Mr. Joyce. I am surprised at you!" - -"What would you have me do, Lady Caroline? You sneer at the notion of -my remaining with Lord Hetherington. Surely you would not have me go -to Berlin?" - -"I never sneer at anything, my dear Mr. Joyce; sneering shows very bad -breeding. I say distinctly that I think you would be mad to fritter -away your days in your present position. Nor do I think, under -circumstances, you ought to go to Berlin. It would have done very well -as a stepping-stone had things turned out differently; but now you -would be always drawing odious comparisons between your solitary lot -and the 'what might have been,' as Owen Meredith so sweetly puts it." - -"Where, then, shall I go?" - -"To London. Where else should any one go with a desire to make a mark -in the world, and energy and determination to aid him in accomplishing -his purpose? And this is your case. Ah, you may shake your head, but I -tell you it is. You think differently just now, but when once you are -there, 'in among the throngs of men,' you will acknowledge it. Why, -when you were there, at the outset of your career, utterly friendless -and alone, as you have told me, you found friends and work; and now -that you are known, and by a certain few appreciated, do you think it -will be otherwise?" - -"You are marvellously inspiriting, Lady Caroline, and I can never be -sufficiently grateful for the advice you have given me--better still, -for the manner in which you have given it. But suppose I do go to -London, what--in the cant phrase of the day--what am I to 'go in -for'?" - -"Newspaper-writing--what do they call it?--journalism, at first; the -profession in which you were doing so well when you came here. That, -if I mistake not, will in due course lead to something else, about -which we will talk at some future time." - -"That is just what I was coming to, Lady Caroline. You will allow me -to see you sometimes?" - -"I shall be always deeply interested in your welfare, Mr. Joyce, and -anxious to know how you progress. Oh yes; I hope both to see and hear -a great deal of you. Besides, Lord Hetherington may feel inclined to -take up the chronicles again; he is rather off them just now, I know; -and then you can give your successor some very valuable hints." - -When Lady Caroline Mansergh was alone in her own room after this -conversation, she reflected long and deeply upon the effect which the -receipt of that letter would probably produce upon Walter Joyce, and -was sufficiently interested to analyse her own feelings in regard to -it. Was she sorry or glad that the intended match had been broken off, -and that Joyce was now, so far as his heart was concerned, a free man? -That he was free she was certain; that he would never return to the -old allegiance she was positive. Lady Caroline in her worldly -experience had frequently come across cases of the kind, where the -tender regret which at first forbade any harsh mention, scarcely any -harsh thought of the false one, had in a very short time given place -to a feeling of mortified vanity and baffled desire, which prompted -the frankest outpourings, and made itself heard in the bitterest -objurgations. The question was, how it affected her. On the whole, she -thought that she was pleased at the result. She did not attempt to -hide from herself that she had a certain regard for this young man, -though of the nature of that regard she had scarcely troubled herself -to inquire. One thing she knew, that it was very different from what -she had at first intended it should be, from what in the early days of -their acquaintance she had allowed it to be. Of course, with such a -man, flirtation, in its ordinary sense, was out of the question; she -would as soon have thought of flirting with the Great Pyramid as with -Walter Joyce. In its place there had existed a kind of friendly -interest; but Lady Caroline was fully cognisant that, on her side, -that friendly interest had been deepening and strengthening, until, -after a little self-examination, she felt forced to confess to herself -that it would bear another name. Then came the question, And if it -did, what matter? She had never particularly set herself up as a -strict observant of the conventionalities or the fetish worship of -society; on the contrary, her conduct in that respect had been rather -iconoclastic. There need be no surprise, therefore, on the part of the -world if she chose to marry out of what was supposed to be her "set" -and station in society; and if there had been, she was quite -strong-minded enough to laugh at it. But to a woman of Lady Caroline's -refinement it was necessary that her husband should be a gentleman, -and it was necessary for her pride that, if not her equal in rank, he -should not merely be her superior in talent, but should be admitted to -be so. Under the fresh disposition of circumstances she saw no reason -why this should not be. Walter Joyce would go to London, would there -resume his newspaper occupations, and would probably, as she guessed -from occasional hints he had recently let fall, turn his attention -more to politics than he had hitherto done. He must be clever, she -thought. She knew him to be clever, in a woman's notion of cleverness, -which was so different to a man's; but he must surely be clever in a -man's way too, or they would never have offered him this Berlin -appointment, which, according to her notions, required not merely a -bright literary style, but, in a far greater degree, the faculty -of observation and knowledge of the world. His experience had been -very small, but his natural ability and natural keenness must be -great. Granted his possession of these gifts, pushed as he would -be by her influence--for she intended to give him some excellent -introductions--there was little doubt of his success in life, and of -his speedily achieving a position which would warrant her in accepting -him. In accepting him? Lady Caroline laughed outright, rather a hard -bitter laugh, as this idea crossed her mind, at the remembrance that -Walter Joyce had never said the slightest word, or shown the smallest -sign, that he cared for her as--as she wished to be cared for by him, -much less that he ever aspired to her hand. However, let that pass! -What was to be, would be, and there was plenty of time to think of -such things. Meanwhile, it was decidedly satisfactory that the -engagement was broken off between him and that girl, whom Lady -Caroline had been accustomed to regard as a simple country wench, a -bread-and-butter miss, but who certainly had done her jilting with a -coolness and _aplomb_ worthy of a London beauty in her third season. -She would have been a drag on Walter's life; for, although ambitious -to a degree, and always wanting to rise beyond her sphere, she would -have induced him to persevere at his work, and have encouraged him to -great efforts; yet, according to Lady Caroline's idea, fame could not -be achieved when a man was surrounded by babies requiring to be fed, -and other domestic drawbacks, and had not merely himself but a large -family to drag up the hill of difficulty, ere eminence was attained. -Now Walter would be really free, even from mental ties, Lady Caroline -thought, with a half sigh, and if he were ever to do anything worthy -of himself, the beginning at least should be now. - -The conversation with Lady Caroline Mansergh had not merely the effect -of diverting Walter Joyce's thoughts from the contemplation of his own -unhappiness for the time being, but rousing within him certain -aspirations which he had scarcely ever previously entertained, and -which, when they had occasionally arisen in his mind, he had -successfully endeavoured to stifle and ignore. No doubt the advice -which Lady Caroline had given him was most excellent, and should be -followed. There was a future before him, and a brilliant one! He would -prove to Marian (already his feelings towards her were beginning to -change)--he would prove to Marian that his life was not made utterly -blank on account of her cruel treatment; on the contrary, he would try -and achieve some end and position, such as he would never have aspired -to if he had remained in the calm jog-trot road of life he had planned -for himself. He would go to London, to old Byrne, and see whether -instead of being sent to Berlin he could not be received on the -staff of the paper in London; and he would turn his attention to -politics--old Byrne would be of immense use to him there--and he would -study and work night and day. Anything to get on, anything to become -distinguished, to make a name! - -His decision once taken, Joyce lost no time in communicating it to -Lord Hetherington. He said that circumstances of great family -importance necessitated his immediate return to London, and would -require all the attention he could bestow on them for many months to -come. Lord Hetherington was a little taken aback by the suddenness of -the announcement, but as he had always had a kindly feeling towards -Joyce, and since the day of the ice-accident he had regarded him with -especial favour, he put the best face he could on the occasion, and -expressed his great regret at his secretary's intended departure. His -lordship begged that when Mr. Joyce had any leisure time at his -disposal he would call upon him at Hetherington House, where they -would be always glad to see him; and Joyce trusted that if ever his -lordship thought that he (Joyce) could be useful to him in any way, -more especially as connected with the chronicles, with which he was so -familiar, he would do him the honour to send for him, through Mr. -Byrne, who would always know his address. And thus they parted, after -the interview, with mutual expressions of goodwill. - -This was a little excitement for Lord Hetherington, who at once -started off, so soon as Joyce had left him, to tell her ladyship the -news. - -Lady Hetherington was far more interested in the fact that the -secretary had given warning, as she persisted in calling it, than her -husband had anticipated. She had always, except when temporarily -aroused on the occasion of the accident, been so determined to ignore -Mr. Joyce's existence, or had treated him with such marked coldness -when compelled to acknowledge it, that his lordship was quite -astonished to see how interested she showed herself, how she persisted -in cross-questioning him as to what Joyce had stated to be the cause -of his leaving, and as to whether he had mentioned it to any other -person in the house. On being assured by her husband that he had come -straight to her boudoir after parting with the secretary, Lady -Hetherington seemed pleased, and strictly enjoined the little lord not -to mention it to any one. - -They were a very small party at dinner that day, only Mr. Biscoe being -present in addition to the members of the family. The conversation was -not very brisk, the countess being full of the coming London season, a -topic on which Mr. Biscoe, who hated town, and never went near it when -he could help it, could scarcely expect to be enthusiastic, Lord -Hetherington being always silent, and Lady Caroline on this occasion -preoccupied. But when the cloth was removed, and the servants had left -the room, Lady Hetherington, in the interval of playing with a few -grapes, looked across at her sister-in-law, and said-- - -"By the way, Caroline, Lord Hetherington's secretary has given -warning!" - -"You mean that Mr. Joyce is going away, is that it? I thought so, but -you have such a curious way of putting things, Margaret!" - -"How should I have put it? I meant exactly what I said!" - -"Oh, of course, if you choose to import the phraseology of the -servants'-hall into your conversation, you are at perfect liberty to -do so." - -"Anyhow, the fact remains the same. We are to be bereaved of the great -secretary! Weren't you astonished when I told you?" - -"Not the least in the world!" - -"Because you had heard it before?" - -"Exactly!" - -"From Lord Hetherington?" - -"Oh no!" laughed Lady Caroline; "don't scold poor dear West on the -idea that he had anticipated you! I heard it from Mr. Joyce himself." - -"Oh, of course you did!" said Lady Hetherington, slightly tossing her -head. "Well, of course you're very much grieved. He was such a -favourite of yours." - -"Just because I like Mr. Joyce very much, or, as you phrase it, -because he is a favourite of mine, I'm very pleased to think that he's -going away. A man of his abilities is lost in his present position." - -"I quite agree with you, Lady Caroline," said Mr. Biscoe. "Sound -scholar, Mr. Joyce, clear head, well grounded, and quick at picking -up--good fellow, too!" - -"I'm sure," said Lord Hetherington, "I've grown so accustomed to him, -I shall feel like--what's-his-name--fish out of water without him." - -"I dare say we shall manage to exist when Mr. Joyce has left us," said -the countess; "we scrambled on somehow before, and I really don't see -the enormous improvement since he came." - -Nobody commented on this, and the conversation dropped. Lady -Hetherington was cross and disappointed. She expected to have found -her sister-in-law very much annoyed at the fact of Mr. Joyce's -departure, whereas, in place of visible grief or annoyance, there was -a certain air of satisfaction about Lady Caroline which was dreadfully -annoying to the countess. - -Two days after, Joyce left for London, Marian's letter, on Lady -Caroline's advice, and in accordance with his own feelings, remaining -without notice. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. -POOR PAPA'S SUCCESSOR. - - -It has been seen that Mr. Creswell's marriage with Marian Ashurst was -sufficiently popular amongst the farmer class at Helmingham, but it -was by no means so warmly received in other grades of society. Up at -the Park, for instance, the people could scarcely restrain their -indignation. Sir Thomas Churchill had always been accustomed to speak -of "my neighbour, Mr. Creswell," as a "highly respectable man, sprung, -as he himself does not scruple to own, from the people," chirrupped -the old Sir Thomas, whose great-grandfather had been a tanner in -Brocksopp,--"but eminently sound in all his views, and a credit to -the--ahem!--commercial classes of the community." They sat together on -the magistrates' bench, met on committees of charitable associations, -and suchlike, and twice a year solemnly had each other to dinner to -meet a certain number of other county people on nights when there was -a moon, or, at least, when the calendar showed that there ought to -have been one. In the same spirit old Lady Churchill, kindliest of -silly old women, had been in the habit of pitying Marian Ashurst. -"That charmin' girl, so modest and quiet; none of your fly-away -nonsense about her, and clever, ain't she? I don't know about -these things myself, but they tell me so; and to have to go into -lodgin's, and all that! father a clergyman of the Church of England -too!"--staunch old lady, never moving about without the Honourable -Miss Grimstone's Church-service, in two volumes, in her trunk--"it -really does seem too bad!" But when the news of the forthcoming -marriage began to be buzzed about, and penetrated to the Park, Sir -Thomas did not scruple to stigmatise his neighbour as an old fool, -while my lady had no better opinion of Miss Ashurst than that she was -a "forward minx." What could have so disturbed these exemplary people? -Not, surely, the low passions of envy and jealousy? Sir Thomas -Churchill, a notorious _roué_ in his day, who had married the -plainest-headed woman in the county for her money, all the available -capital of which he had spent, could not possibly be envious of the -fresh young bride whom his old acquaintance was bringing home? And -Lady Churchill, to whom the village gossips talked incessantly of the -intended redecoration of Woolgreaves, the equipages and horses which -were ordered, the establishment which was about to be kept up, the -position in parliament which was to be fought for, and, above all, -the worship with which the elderly bridegroom regarded the juvenile -bride-elect--these rumours did not influence her in the bitter -depreciation with which she henceforth spoke of the late -schoolmaster's daughter? Of course not! The utterances of the baronet -and his lady were prompted by a deep regard to the welfare of both -parties, and a wholesome regret that they had been prompted to take a -step which could not be for the future happiness of either, of course. - -Mr. Benthall, who, it will be recollected, had succeeded the late Mr. -Ashurst at the Helmingham school, and was comparatively new to the -neighbourhood, took but little interest in the matter, so far as Miss -Ashurst was concerned. He had a bowing acquaintance with her, but he -had neither had the wish nor the opportunity of getting on more -familiar terms. Had she married any one else but Mr. Creswell, it -would not have mattered one jot to the Rev. George Benthall; but, as -it happened, Mr. Benthall had a certain amount of interest in the -doings of the household at Woolgreaves, and the marriage of the chief -of that household promised to be an important event in Mr. Benthall's -life. - -You could scarcely have found a greater difference between any two men -than between James Ashurst and his successor. When James Ashurst -received his appointment as head-master at Helmingham, he looked upon -that appointment as the culmination of his career. Mr. Benthall -regarded the head-mastership as merely a steppingstone to something -better. Mr. Ashurst threw his whole soul into his work. Mr. Benthall -was content to get people to think that he was very hard-working and -very much interested in his duties, whereas he really cared nothing -about them, and slipped through them in the most dilettante fashion. -He did not like work; he never had liked it. At Oxford he had taken no -honours, made no name, and when he was nominated to Helmingham, every -one wondered at the selection except those who happened to know that -the fortunate man was godson to one of the two peers who were -life-governors of the school. Mr. Benthall found the Helmingham school -in excellent order. The number of scholars never had been so large, -the social status of the class which furnished them was undeniably -good, the discipline had been brought to perfection, and the school -had an excellent name in the county. It had taken James Ashurst years -to effect this, but once achieved, there was no necessity for any -further striving. Mr. Benthall was a keen man of the world, he found -the machine in full swing, he calculated that the impetus which had -been given to it would keep it in full swing for two or three years, -without the necessity for the smallest exertion on his part, and -during these two or three years he would occupy himself in looking out -for something better. What that something better was to be he had not -definitely determined. Not another head-mastership, he had made up his -mind on that point; he never had been particularly partial to boys, -and now he hated them. He did not like parochial duty, he did not like -anything that gave him any trouble. He did like croquet-playing and -parsonical flirtation, cricket and horse exercise. He liked money, and -all that money brings; and, after every consideration, he thought the -best and easiest plan to acquire it would be to marry an heiress. - -But there were no heiresses in those parts, and very few marriageable -girls. Mr. Benthall had met the two young ladies from Woolgreaves at -several garden-parties, and had conceived a special admiration for -Gertrude Creswell. Maude was far too grand, and romantic, and -self-willed for his taste, but there was something in Gertrude's fresh -face and quaint simple manner that was particularly pleasing to him. -But after making careful inquiries, Mr. Benthall discovered that Miss -Gertrude Creswell's chance of wealth was but small, she being entirely -dependent on her uncle, whose affections were known to be entirely -concentrated on his son. She might have a few hundred pounds perhaps, -but a few hundred pounds would not be sufficient to enable Mr. -Benthall to give up the school, and to live idle for the rest of his -life. The notion must be given up, he feared. He was very sorry for -it, for he really liked the girl very much, and he thought she liked -him. It was a bore, a nuisance, but the other thing was impossible! - -Then came Tom Creswell's death, and that gave affairs another aspect. -There was no son now to inherit all the accumulated wealth. There were -only the two nieces, between whom the bulk of the property would -doubtless be divided. That was a much more healthy outlook for Mr. -Benthall. If matters eventuated as he imagined, Miss Gertrude would -not merely have a sufficiency, but would be an heiress, and under this -expectation Mr. Benthall, who had not seen much of the young ladies of -Woolgreaves for some time, now took every opportunity of throwing -himself in their way. These opportunities were tolerably frequent, and -Mr. Benthall availed himself of them with such skill and success, that -he had finally made up his mind to propose for Gertrude Creswell's -hand, with the almost certainty of acceptance, when the news came down -to the village that Mr. Creswell was going to be married to Marian -Ashurst. That was a tremendous blow! From what Mr. Benthall had heard -about Miss Ashurst's character in the village, there was little doubt -in his mind that she had deliberately planned this marriage with a -view to the acquisition of fortune and position, and there was no -doubt that she would hold to both. The chance of any inheritance for -the girls was even worse than it would have been if Tom had lived. In -that case a sense of justice would have impelled the old gentleman to -do something for his nieces, but now he would be entirely under the -sway of this money-loving woman, who would take care to keep -everything to herself. It was a confounded nuisance, for in regard to -Gertrude Creswell Mr. Benthall had progressed considerably beyond the -"liking" stage, and was really very much attached to her. What could -be done? It would be impossible for him to marry a portionless girl. -It would be utterly useless for him to ask her uncle to endow her, as -Mr. Creswell would at once refer the question to his new wife, who--as -he, Mr. Benthall, happened to know from one or two little scenes at -which he had been present, and one or two little circumstances of -which he had heard--was by no means lovingly inclined towards the -young ladies who had become her step-nieces. It was horribly -provoking, but Mr. Benthall could not see his way at all. - -One evening, some two or three days after Mr. Creswell's marriage, Mr. -Benthall was sitting in his study, when there came a knock at the -door, and a smart housemaid entering told him that Mrs. Covey had come -back, and would be glad to see her master. Mrs. Covey was an old woman -who for many years had lived as cook with the Ashursts, and who, on -their recommendation, had been accepted in a similar capacity by Mr. -Benthall, on his assumption of office. But the old lady had been away -from her work for some few weeks with a sharp attack of illness, which -rendered her unfit for her duties, and she had been staying with a -married daughter some miles on the other side of Brocksopp. A few days -previously she had reported herself as cured, and as about to return -to her place, and in due time she arrived at the schoolhouse. Mr. -Benthall was glad to hear of the old woman's safe return; not that he -cared in the least about her, or any other old woman, but she -understood the place, and did her duty well, and some of the boarders -had given decided evidence of the unpopularity of Mrs. Covey's _locum -tenens_ by leaving their dinners untouched, and making their meals in -furtive snatches from their lockers during school-hours of provisions -purchased at the "tuck-shop." This sort of mutiny annoyed Mr. Benthall -considerably, and consequently he was very glad to have the news of -Mrs. Covey's recovery, and gave orders that she should be sent up to -him at once. - -Whatever might have been the nature of Mrs. Covey's illness, it -certainly had not had the effect of toning down her complexion. She -was a singularly red-faced old lady, looking as if constant exposure -to large fires had sent the blood to her cheeks and kept it there, and -she wore a very fierce little black front, with two screwy little -curls just in front of either ear, and in honour of her return and of -her presentation to her master, she had put on a gigantic structure of -net and ribbon which did duty for a cap. She seemed greatly pleased at -the notice which Mr. Benthall took of her, and at the interest he -seemed to show in her recovery, but nothing would induce her to be -seated in his presence, though he repeatedly urged the advisability of -her resting herself after her journey. Finding her obdurate in this -matter, Mr. Benthall let the old lady have her way, and after he had -chatted with her about her illness, and about her family, he thought -he had exhausted the topics of interest between them, and inwardly -wished she would go. But as she evinced no intention of stirring, he -was obliged to cast about for something to say, and oddly enough hit -upon a subject, the discussion of which with this old woman was -destined to have a certain amount of influence on his future life. - -"Well, we've had wonderful changes here in Helmingham since you've -been away, Mrs. Covey," he remarked. - -"Ah! so I did heer, sir!" said the old woman. "Poor old Muster -Pickering gone to his feaythers, and Mrs. Slater's bad leg brokken out -again, and not likely to heal this time, Anne told me Dr. Osborne -says." - -"Ay, ay, but I'm not talking about old Pickering or Mrs. Slater. I -mean the wedding--the great wedding!" - -"Ah, well, I've heerd nowt o' that," said Mrs. Covey; adding in a -grumbling undertone, "I'm a stupid owd woman, and they tell me nowt." - -"Not heard of it? Well, I wonder at that," said Mr. Benthall, "more -especially as it concerns your young mistress that was--Miss Ashurst, -I mean!" - -"What, is she married at last?" asked the old woman. - -"She is indeed, and to Mr. Creswell--Squire Creswell of -Woolgreaves---" - -"What!" screamed Mrs. Covey, falling backward into the chair, which -was fortunately close behind her. "You don't tell me that!" - -"I do indeed! When was it?--last Thursday. The--the happy couple" (and -Mr. Benthall gave a cynical grin as he said the words)--"the happy -couple are away now on their wedding-trip." - -"Well, I niver did! I niver did! The old squire to come and marry Miss -Marian! He that was allays so mumchance and so meek, and had a sweet -tooth in 's head after all I thowt it was to talk wi' the poor old -master about book-larnin' and such stuff that he comed here! I'd niver -an idee that he'd an eye for the young gell." - -"Only shows how sly these old gentlemen can be when they choose, Mrs. -Covey," said Mr. Benthall, much amused, "if they can deceive such -sharp eyes as yours." - -"Dear heart, I've no cause to call mine sharp eyes any longer, I -think," said the old woman, shaking her head, "for I was took in by -both on 'em. I niver thowt Miss Marian would throw t'other one over, -that I niver did." - -"What's that you're saying, Mrs. Covey?" asked Mr. Benthall, sharply. - -"I was sayin' that I allays thowt Miss Marian would howld by the -t'other one, and----" - -"Other one? What other one? I never heard of there being any 'other -one,' as you call it, in regard to Miss Ashurst." - -"No! You didn't, I dare say! Nor didn't not no one else!" said the old -lady, with a frightful redundancy of negatives; "but _I_ did." - -"And who was this 'other one,' if one may ask, Mrs. Covey?" - -"One may ask, and there's only one can answer, and that one's me. Ah, -well, there's no harm in tellin', now that she's married, and all -that, though I niver opened my mouth about it before to livin' soul, -hopin' it would come all right like. Miss Marian were keepin' company -wi' young Joyce!" - -"Joyce! Joyce!" repeated Mr. Benthall. "What, young Mr. Joyce, who was -one of Mr. Ashurst's masters here?" - -"That very same! ay, and he were Miss Ashurst's master, he were, at -the time I'm speakin' of!" said the old woman. - -"Too much kitchen-fire has brought on softening of this old person's -brain!" said Mr. Benthall to himself. "There can't be a shadow of -foundation for what she says, or I should surely have heard of it in -the village!" Then aloud, "What makes you think this, Mrs. Covey?" - -"What meks me think it? Why, my own eyesight meks me think it, and -that's the best think I can have i' the matter," replied the old -woman, waxing rather cross at her master's evident incredulity. -"Nobody niver spoke of it, becos' nobody knowed it; but I've sat at -the kitchen-window o' summer nights and seen 'em walkin' roun' the -garden for hours thegither, hand in hand, or him wi' his arms round -her waist, and I know what that means, tho' I may be an old fool!" - -"No, no, Mrs. Covey, no one ever thought that for a minute," said Mr. -Benthall, anxious to soothe the old woman's offended dignity, and -really very much interested in the news she had given him. "No doubt -you're quite correct, only, as I had never heard a hint of this -before, I was rather startled at the suddenness of the announcement, -Tell me now, had Mr. Ashurst any notion of what was going on?" - -"Wasn't the schoolmaster, poor feckless critter, allays buzzed in th' -heed wi' book-larnin' and troubles o' all sorts? No bittle as iver -flew war blinder, nor deafer, than my poor owd master in matters what -didn't concern him!" - -"Nor Mrs. Ashurst?" - -"Ah, the poor sickly thing, wi' pains here and aches there, and so -dillicate, and niver 'nuff strength to look after what she ought, let -alone anything else! No! they kept it to themselves, the young pipple, -and nobody knowed nowt about it but me, and they didn't know as I -knew, for the kitchen-window, as you know, is hid wi' fuzz and -creepers, and you can see out wi'out bein' seen! Lor, lor, and so -she's gone and married that owd man! And t'other one's gone for a -sojer, they say, and all that story, as I used to sit i' the kitchen -and make up in my head, will niver be! Lor, lor, what a world it is!" - - -Mr. Benthall was very much surprised at the information which had come -to him in that odd way. He had never thought much about Marian -Ashurst, but he knew perfectly well that popular opinion in Helmingham -and the neighbourhood held to the fact that she had never had any love -affair. He was disposed to regard her with rather more favour than -before, for if what Mrs. Covey stated of her were true, it showed that -at one time she must have possessed a heart, though she had allowed -herself to ignore its promptings under the overweening influence of -avarice. Mr. Benthall thought a good deal over this story. He wondered -when, how, and under what circumstances Miss Ashurst had broken her -engagement, if such engagement existed, with Joyce. Whether she had -deliberately planned her marriage with old Creswell, and had -consequently abandoned the other design; or whether the old gentleman -had proposed suddenly to her, and the temptation of riches and -position being too great for her to withstand, she had flung her first -lover aside on the spur of the moment, and thereby, perhaps, rendered -herself wretched for life. Or what was it that the old woman said, -about Joyce enlisting as a soldier? Perhaps that step on her lover's -part had been the cause of Miss Ashurst's determination. No! on -reflection, the enlisting, if he ever did enlist, looked like a -desperate act on Joyce's part, done in despair at hearing the news of -Marian's intended marriage! Mr. Benthall did not pin much faith to the -enlisting part of the story. He had heard a good deal about Joyce from -various sources, and he felt confident that he was by no means the -kind of man who would be led to the perpetration of any folly of the -kind. Mr. Benthall was puzzled. With any other two people he could -have understood the hand in hand, and the arm-encircled waist, as -meaning nothing more than a pleasant means of employing the time, -meaning nothing, and to be forgotten by both persons when they might -chance to be separated. But Mr. Joyce and Miss Ashurst were so -essentially earnest and practical, and so utterly unlikely to disport -themselves in the manner described without there had been a sincere -attachment between them, that, taking all this into consideration in -conjunction with the recent marriage, Mr. Benthall came to the -conclusion that either Mrs. Covey must have, unintentionally of -course, deceived herself and him, or that there was something -remarkably peculiar in the conduct of Miss Ashurst, something more -peculiar than pleasant or estimable. He wondered whether Gertrude or -Maude had any suspicions on the matter. They had neither of them ever -spoken to him on the subject, but then Maude generally left him alone -with Gertrude, and when he and Gertrude were together, they had other -things than other people's love-affairs to talk about. He had not been -up to Woolgreaves since the wedding, had not--which was quite a -different matter--seen either of the girls. He would ride over there -the next afternoon, and see how matters progressed. - -Accordingly the next day, while Maude and Gertrude were walking in the -garden and discussing Mrs. Creswell's newly arrived letter, or rather -while Maude was commenting on it, and Gertrude, as usual, was -chorusing her assent to all her sister said, they saw Mr. Benthall, at -the far end of a long turf walk, making towards them. Immediately on -recognising the visitor Maude stopped talking, and looked suddenly -round at Gertrude, who, of course, blushed a very lively crimson, and -said, "Oh, Maud, I wish you wouldn't!" - -"Wish I wouldn't what, Gertrude?" - -"Make me so hot and uncomfortable!" - -"My dear, _I_ don't make you hot and uncomfortable! We have been -talking together for the last half-hour perfectly quietly, when -suddenly--why, of course, it's impossible for me to say--you blush to -the roots of your hair, and accuse me of being the cause!" - -"No; but, Maude, you don't mind his coming?" - -"No indeed, Gertrude, I like _him_, if you mean Mr. Benthall, as of -course you do, very much; and if you and he are both really in -earnest, I think that you would. Here he is!" - -"Good day, ladies!" said Mr. Benthall, advancing with a bow. "I -haven't seen you since you were left deserted and forlorn, so I -thought I would come over and ask what news of the happy couple." - -"They will be back at the end of the week; we heard from Mrs. Creswell -this morning." - -"Ah, ha, from the blushing bride! And how is the blushing bride, and -what does she say?" - -"She makes herself rather more odious and disagreeable than ever!" -said Gertrude. "Oh, I don't mind, Maude! Geo--Mr. Benthall knows -precisely what I feel about Miss Ashurst and her 'superior' ways and -manners and nonsense!" - -"What has she done now?" - -"Oh, she has--no, Maude, I will speak! She has written to say that -Maude must give up her music-room, you know, where she always sits and -practises, and where she's happier than anywhere else in the house, -because my lady wants it for a boudoir, or something, where she can -show off her 'superiority,' I suppose." - -"Of course," said Maude, "Mrs. Creswell has a perfect right to----" - -"Oh, bother!" said Gertrude; "of course it's perfectly disgusting! -Don't you think so, Mr. Benthall?" - -"That's a home question," said Mr. Benthall, with a laugh; "but it is -scarcely in good taste of Mrs. Creswell so soon to----" - -"I should think not, indeed!" interrupted Gertrude. "Oh, I see plainly -what it will be. We shall lead nice lives with that awful woman!" - -"I don't think you'll find, as I've told you before, that that 'awful -woman,' as you call her, will trouble herself with our companionship -for long," said Maude; "and I cannot say that when she once comes into -the house as mistress I should feel the least desire to remain here." - -"And she'll do anything with poor uncle," said Gertrude; "he dotes on -her." - -"Naturally," said Mr. Benthall; "and she is very much attached to -him?" - -This question was rather addressed to Maude, and she answered it by -saying quietly, "I suppose so." - -"Oh, nonsense, Maude!" said Gertrude; "uncle's an old dear--kindest, -nicest old thing in the world, but not for a girl to like in--well, in -that sort of way, don't you know! Not the sort of man to be a girl's -first love, I mean!" - -"Are you sure that your uncle is Miss Ashurst's first love?" - -"We never heard of any other. What is it, George--Mr. Benthall, I -mean? You've found out something! Oh, do tell us!" - -"Did you know anything of a Mr. Joyce, who was one of Mr. Ashurst's -masters?" - -"Certainly--a small, slim, good-looking young man," said Maude. - -"Good looking, oh?" said Mr. Benthall. - -"Should not you say so, Gertrude?" - -"Well, I don't know," said Gertrude; "he was too short, I think, and -too dark. I like a--I mean----" And Gertrude broke down, and flew the -flag of distress in her face again. - -"What of Mr. Joyce, in connection with the subject on which we were -talking, Mr. Benthall?" asked Maude. - -And then Mr. Benthall told them all he had heard from Mrs. Covey. - - -Gertrude went alone with Mr. Benthall to the gate, and they were a -very long time saying their adieux. When she came back to the house, -she found her sister in the hall. - -"You found the gate very difficult to open, Gerty!" said Maude, with -her grave smile. - -"Yes, dear, very difficult! Do you know, dear,--he hasn't said -anything, but I think Mr. Benthall is going to ask me to be his wife!" - -"Well, Gerty, and what then?" - -"Then I shall have a home to offer you, my darling! a home where we -can be together, and needn't be under the rule of that beautiful, -superior creature!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. -CLOUDING OVER. - - -Gertrude Creswell was not wrong in her supposition that Mr. Benthall -intended asking her to become his wife. It is not often that mistakes -are made in such matters, despite all we read of disappointed maidens -and blighted hopes. Life is so very practical in this portion of the -nineteenth century, that, except in very rare cases, even love-affairs -scarcely care to avail themselves of a halo of romance, of that veil -of mystery and secrecy which used to be half the charm of the affair. -"The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love" are now never seen, in -anything like good society, where the intention of two young persons -to marry as soon as--sometimes before--they have met, and the -"understanding" between them is fully recognised by all their friends; -while as to the "matron's glance which would such looks reprove," it -is entirely obsolete, and never brought into play, save when the -bashful virgins bend their sidelong looks of love on good-looking -young paupers in the government offices or the army--a proceeding -which it is but fair to say the bashful virgins "of the period" very -rarely indulge in. Gertrude Creswell was as unlike a "girl of the -period," in the present delightful acceptation of that phrase, as can -well be imagined; that is to say, she was modest, frank, simple, -honest, and without guile; but she was a woman, and she knew perfectly -that she had engaged George Benthall's attention, and become the -object of his affection, although she had had no previous experience -in the matter. They had lived such quiet lives, these young ladies, -and had slid so tranquilly from the frilled-trouser-wearing and -_les-graces_-playing period of childhood, to the long skirts, croquet, -and flirtation of marriageable age, that they had hardly thought of -that largest component part of a girl's day-dream, settling in life. -There was with them no trace of that direct and unmistakable line of -demarcation known as "coming out"--that mountain-ridge between the -cold dreary Switzerland of lessons, governesses, midday dinner, -back-board, piano practice, and early bed, and the lovely glowing -Italy of balls, bouquets, cavaliers, croquet, Park, Row, crush-room, -country-house, French novel, and cotillon at five a.m. So Gertrude had -never had a love-affair of any kind before; but she was very quiet -about it, and restrained her natural tendency to gush, principally for -Maude's sake. She thought it might seem unkind in her to make a fuss, -as she described it, about her having a lover before Maude, who was as -yet unsuited with that commodity. It puzzled Gertrude immensely, this -fact of her having proved attractive to any one while Maude was by; -she was accustomed to think so much of her elder sister, on whom she -had endeavoured to model herself to the best of her ability, that she -could not understand any one taking notice of her while her sister was -present. Throughout her life, with her father, with her mother, and -now with her uncle, Gertrude Creswell had always played the inferior -part to her sister; she was always the humble confidante in white -muslin to Maude in Tilburina's white satin, and in looks, manner, -ability, or disposition, was not imagined to be able to stand any -comparison with the elder girl. - -But Mr. Benthall, preferring Gertrude, had given long and serious -thought as to his future. He had taken the trouble to do something -which he knew he ought to have done long since, but which he had -always resolutely shirked--to look into the actual condition of his -school, and more especially of his boarders; and after careful -examination, he confessed to himself, as he smoked a costly -cigar, pacing slowly up and down the lane, which was ablaze with -apple-blossom--it would never have done to have been caught in the -wildly dissipated act of smoking by any of the boys, or, indeed, by a -good many of the villagers--he confessed to himself that he wanted a -companion, and his establishment wanted a head, and that Mrs. Covey, -excellent in her way, was scarcely a proper representative of the -female element in the household of the head-master of Helmingham -school. Thus minded, Mr. Benthall rode over to Woolgreaves, was -received by a benevolent grin from the stable-helper, to whom he -confided his horse (confound those fellows, with what an extraordinary -facility they blunder on to the right scent in these matters!), went -into the house, paid his suit to the two young ladies, had but a few -words with Miss Maude, whose services, in consequence of an -unfavourable turn of Mrs. Ashurst's illness, were required upstairs, -and a prolonged interview of a very satisfactory kind with Miss -Gertrude. With a portion only of this interview have we to do; the -remaining portion can be much "more easily imagined than described," -at least, by those to whom the circumstances of the position have -been, or actually are, familiar--perhaps no inconsiderable proportion -of the world. - -"By the way," said Mr. Benthall, as, after a third ridiculous attempt -at pretending he was going, he had again settled himself in his chair, -but had not thought it necessary to give up Miss Gertrude's hand, -which he had taken in his own when he had last risen to say adieu--"by -the way, Miss--well, Gertrude--what was that you were saying last time -I was here about Mrs. Creswell?" - -"What I was saying about Mrs. Creswell? I don't exactly know, but it -wouldn't be very difficult to guess! I hate her!" said Gertrude -roundly. - -"Ah, yes!" said Mr. Benthall, "I think I managed to gather that from -the general tone of your conversation; but what were you saying -specifically?" - -"I don't know what specifically means, I think!" said Gertrude, after -a moment's reflection; "but I do know why I hate her!" - -"And that is because----" - -"Because she pretends to be so awfully superior, and goes in to be so -horribly good and demure, and all that kind of thing," said Miss -Gertrude, growing very becomingly red with excitement. "She always -reminds me of the publican in the parable, who, 'standing afar -off'--you know what I mean! I always thought that the publican went in -to draw more attention to himself by his mock humility than all the -noise and outcry which the Pharisee made, and which any one would have -put down to what it was worth; and that's just like Miss A.--I mean -Mrs. Creswell--I'm sure I shall call her Miss A. to my dying day, -Maude and I are so accustomed to speak of her like that--you'd -think butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; and this is so shocking, and -that is so dreadful, and she is so prim, and so innocent, and so -self-sacrificing; and then she steps in and carries off our uncle, for -whom all the unmarried girls in the county were angling years ago, and -had given up the attempt in despair!" - -"But you must have seen all this in her for months, over since she has -been in the same house with you. And yet it is only since she achieved -her conquest of your uncle that you've been so bitter against her." - -"Not at all, George. That's so like a man, always to try and say an -unpleasant thing about the want of generosity, and all that. Not at -all! I don't mind so much about her marrying uncle; if he's such a -silly old thing as to like to marry her, that's his look-out, and not -ours. And I've no doubt she'll make him what people call a good wife, -awfully respectable, and all that kind of thing. And I don't believe -she's ever been in love with anybody else, notwithstanding your -stories about that Mr. Joyce. I like your talking about women's -gossip, sir; a fine story that was you brought us, and all started by -some old woman, wasn't it? But what annoyed me worst was the way in -which she wrote about making Maude give up her music-room. I call that -regularly cruel, because she knew well enough that Maude was awfully -fond of that room, and--and that's what makes me hate her!" - -"And Maude seemed to think that that was to be but the beginning of a -series of unpleasant measures." - -"Well, you know Maude's blood is regularly up in this matter, and of -course she is prejudiced to a certain extent, and I don't know--I'm -not clever, you know, like she is--how far she's right. But I think -plainly enough that Miss A.--I mean Mrs. Creswell--intends to have her -own way in everything; and as she doesn't like us, and never did, -she'll set much against us, and goodness knows the result!" - -Mr. Benthall could not have been described as "goodness," nor was he a -particularly far-seeing man, but he thought he knew the result. As he -cantered slowly home that afternoon, he thought the matter out, and -came to the conclusion that if Mrs. Creswell were the woman she was -described, she would tolerate but for a very little time the presence -of two persons so obnoxious in the same house with her, and that when -that climax arrived, it was the time for the Rev. George Benthall to -step in and do himself and everybody else concerned a good turn by -taking Gertrude off her uncle's hands. - -There was very little doubt that the shelter of the Woolgreaves roof -and the luxuries of the Woolgreaves establishment would be required by -one of its inmates for but a very short time. Mrs. Ashurst's strength, -which had been gradually declining, began to fail her altogether, and -it was evident to all that the end was at hand. Dr. Osborne, who was -in constant attendance--and the little man never showed to such -advantage as under the most trying professional circumstances--shook -his head sadly, and confessed that it had now become a question of -days. But the old lady was so tranquil, and apparently so happy, that -he hesitated to summon her daughter, more especially as the newly -married couple were so soon expected home. The girl who attended on -the old lady in the capacity of night-nurse had a different experience -from Dr. Osborne so far as the tranquillity of the patient was -concerned. She knew when she was awake--and considering that she was a -full-blooded, heavy, bacon-fed lass, she really deserved much credit -for the manner in which she propped her eyelids up with her -forefingers, and resorted to sniffing instead of snoring--she knew -that Mrs. Ashurst had very disturbed nights, when she lay moaning and -groaning and plucking at the bedclothes, and constantly murmuring one -phrase; "For my sake! Lord help her! God grant it may turn out right! -She did it, I know, for my sake!" Gradually she lost consciousness, -and in her wandering state she repeated nothing but this one phrase, -"For my sake!" Occasionally she would smile placidly, and look round -the room as though in admiration of its comfort and appointments, but -then the sad look would come over her face, and she would repeat the -melancholy sentence in the saddest of tones. Dr. Osborne, when he -eventually came to hear of this, and to witness it, confessed he could -not understand it. It was not a case for the College of Surgeons, nor -getatable by the Pharmacopoeia; it was what Shakespeare said--he'd -heard his girl read it--about not being able to minister to a mind -diseased, or something of that sort; and yet, God bless him, Mrs. -Ashurst was about the last woman to have anything of the kind. -However, he should be deuced glad when little Marian--ah, mustn't call -her little Marian now; beg pardon, Mrs. Creswell--funny, wasn't it? -couldn't get that into his head! had known 'em all so long, and never -thought--nor anybody else, for the matter of that. However, that's -neither here nor there. What's that proverb, eh?--"There's no fool -like an----" No, no, mustn't say that before him, please. What was he -saying? Oh, he should be glad when Mrs. Creswell came home, and took -her mother under her own charge. - -Mr. and Mrs. Creswell came home two days before they were expected, or -rather before they had originally intended. Marian had heard of her -mother's illness, and expressed a wish to go to her at once--a wish -which of course decided Mr. Creswell's course of action. The tenants -and villagers, to whom the news of Mr. Creswell's intended political -experiment had been imparted during his absence, had intended to give -him a welcome in which they could express their sentiments on flags -and mottoes and triumphal arches; and they had already arranged an -alliterative sentence, in which "Creswell and Conservatism!" each -picked out with gigantic capital letters, were to play conspicuous -parts; but Dr. Osborne, who got wind of what was threatened, drove -off to Brocksopp in his little pony-chaise, and there took Mr. -Teesdale, the agent, into confidence, and revealed to him the real -state--hovering between life and death--in which Mrs. Ashurst then -lay. On the reception of this information, Mr. Teesdale took upon -himself to hint that the intended demonstration had better be -postponed for a more convenient season; and accordingly Mr. and -Mrs. Creswell, arriving by the train at Brocksopp, and having -their carriage to meet them, drove through the streets when the -working-people were all engaged at their factories and mills, and made -their way home, scarcely exciting any recognition. - -The two girls, on the alert at hearing the wheels of the approaching -carriage, rushed to the door, and were honoured by being permitted to -kiss the cheek of the bride, as she swept past them. No sooner had -they kissed their uncle, and were all assembled in the drawing-room, -than Marian asked after her mother. - -"I'm afraid you will find her very much changed, Mrs. Creswell," said -Maude, who, of course, was spokeswoman. "Mrs. Ashurst is very much -weaker, and has--has occasional fits of wandering, which----" - -"Why was I not informed of this?" asked Marian, in her chilliest -tones. "Were you both so much engaged, that you could not manage to -let me have a line to tell me of this change in my mother's state?" - -"Maude wanted to write and tell you, but Dr. Osborne wouldn't let -her," blustered out Gertrude. "She never will say anything for -herself, but I'm sure she has been most attentive, Maude has, and I -don't think----" - -"I'm sorry to interrupt this _lobgesang_, Gertrude; but I must go up -and see my mother at once. Be good enough to open the door." "And she -sailed out of the room," Gertrude said, afterwards, "as though she'd -been a duchess! In one of those rustling silks, don't you know, as -stiff as a board, which look as if they'd stand up by themselves!" - -When Marian reached her mother's door, and was just about entering, -she stopped short, arrested by a low dull moaning sound which fell -upon her ear. She listened with her blood curdling within her and her -lips growing cold and rigid. Still it came, that low hollow moan, -monotonous, dreadful. Then she opened the door, and, passing swiftly -in, saw her mother lying tossing on the bed, plucking furtively at the -bedclothes, and moaning as she moved her head wearily in its unrest. - -"Mother!" cried Marian--"mother, darling mother don't you know me?" -And she flung herself on the bed, and, taking the old woman's head in -her arms, softly kissed her lips. - -The bright, the momentarily bright, eyes looked at her without seeing -her--she knew that--and presently moved away again round the room, as -Mrs. Ashurst raised her long lean hand, and, pointing to the wall, -said, "Pictures--and books--all fine--all fine!--for my sake!" -uttering the last words in a deep hissing whisper. - -Marian was too shocked to speak. Shocked, not frightened; she had much -natural strength of mind, and had had experience of illness, though -not of this character. But she was shocked to see her mother in such a -state, and deeply enraged at the fact that the increase of the illness -had been kept from her. "Don't you know me?" she repeated; "mother, -darling mother, don't you know me? Marian, poor Marian! your daughter -Marian!" - -"Ah, don't blame her!" said the old woman, in the same whisper. "Poor -Marian! poor dear Marian! my Jimmy's pet! She did it for my sake, all -for my sake! Carriages and horses and wine for me--wine, rich strong -wine for me--all for me, all for my sake, poor Marian! all for my -sake!" - -"Is she often in this way? Does she often repeat those horrible -words?" asked Marian of the servant, of whose presence she then, on -raising her head, became for the first time aware. - -"Oh yes, miss--I mean, mum!--constantly, mum! She never says anything -else, mum, but about some things being for her sake, mum. And she -haven't said anything else, miss, since she was off her head--I mean, -since she was delirrous, mum!" - -"Does she always mention my name--Marian?" - -"Always, mum, 'Poor Marian'--savin' your presence, and not meanin' a -liberty--is what she do say, miss, and always about 'for her sake' -it's -done, whatever it is, which I don't know." - -"How long has she been like this? How long have you been with her?" - -"A week last Wednesday, mum, was when I was brought from the laundry -to be nurse; and if you find your collars and cuffs iron-moulded, mum, -or not properly got up, you'll understand it's not me, Dr. Osbin -having had me fetched here as bein' strong for nussin' and a good -sitter-up o' nights----" - -"Yes, I understand!" said Marian, vacantly; "you won't have to sit up -any more; I shall relieve you of that. Just wait here; I shall be back -in a few minutes." - -Marian hurried downstairs, and in the drawing-room found her husband, -the two girls, and Dr. Osborne, who had joined the party. There must -have been some peculiar expression in her face, for she had no sooner -opened the door than Mr. Creswell, looking up, hurried across the room -and took her hand, saying anxiously, "What is the matter, Marian? what -is it, my love?" - -"Simply that I arrive here to find my mother wandering and -imbecile--she whom I left comparatively cheerful, and certainly in the -possession of all her senses--that is all, nothing more," said Marian, -in a hard low voice, and with a dead-white face and dried bloodless -lips. "I thought," she continued, turning to the girls, "that I might -have left her safely in your charge. I never asked for your sympathy, -God knows; I would not have had it if you had offered it to me; but I -thought you seemed to be disposed kindly and affectionately towards -her. There was so much gush and display in your attachment, I might -have known it had no real foundation." - -"You have no right to speak to us in this way, Mrs. Creswell!" cried -Maude, making a step in advance and standing very stiff and erect; -"you have no right to----" - -"Maude," broke in Mr. Creswell, in his coldest tone, "recollect to -whom you are speaking, if you please." - -"I do recollect, uncle; I am speaking to Mrs. Ashurst's daughter--dear -Mrs. Ashurst, whom both Gertrude and I love, and have tried to show we -love her, as she would tell you, if she could, poor darling! And it is -only because Mrs. Creswell is her daughter that I answer her at all, -after her speaking to me in that way. I will tell you now, Mrs. -Creswell, what I should not otherwise have mentioned, that Gerty and I -have been constant in our attendance on Mrs. Ashurst, and that one or -other of us has always slept in the next room, to be within call if we -were wanted, and----" - -"Why did you take upon yourselves to keep me in ignorance of the -change in my mother's mental state, of this fearful wandering and -unconsciousness?--that is what I complain of." - -"Oh, I must not let them say they took it upon themselves at all," -said Dr. Osborne, who had been looking on uncomfortably during this -dialogue; "that was my fault entirely; the girls wanted to send for -you, but I said no, much better not. I knew you were due home in a few -days, and your earlier arrival could not have done the least good to -my poor old friend upstairs, and would only have been distressing to -you." - -"Oh, you accept the responsibility, Dr. Osborne?" said Marian, still -in the same hard voice. "Would you have acted in the same way with any -ordinary patient, any stranger?" - -"Eh?" exclaimed the little doctor, in a very loud key, rubbing his -face hard with his pocket-handkerchief. "What do you ask, Marian?--any -stranger?" - -"Would you have taken upon yourself to keep a daughter from her mother -under similar circumstances, supposing they had been strangers to -you?" - -"No--no, perhaps not," said the little doctor, still wildly -astonished. - -"It will be perhaps better, then, if henceforth you put us on the -footing of strangers!" said Marian. - -"Marian!" exclaimed Mr. Creswell. - -"I mean what I said," she replied. "Had we been on that footing now, I -should have been at my mother's bedside some days since!" And she -walked quickly from the room. - -Dr. Osborne made two steps towards his hat, seized it, clapped it on -his head, and with remarkably unsteady legs was making his way to the -door, when Mr. Creswell took him by the arm, begged him not to think -of what had just passed, but to remember the shock which Marian had -received, the suddenness with which this new phase of her mother's -illness had come upon her, etc. The little doctor did not leave the -room, as apparently he had intended at first; he sat down on a chair -close by, muttering-- - -"Treat her as a stranger rocked her on my knee brought her through -measles! father died in my arms treat her as a stranger!" - - -Two days afterwards Marian stood by the bed on which lay Mrs. Ashurst, -dead. As she reverently arranged the gray hair under the close cap, -and kissed the cold lips, she said-- - -"You did not enjoy the money very long, darling mother! But you died -in comfort, at any rate and that was worth the sacrifice--if sacrifice -it were!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. -IN HARNESS. - - -It was the autumn of the year, in the spring of which Walter Joyce had -returned to London from Westhope. Six months had elapsed since he had -read what he had almost imagined to be his death-warrant in Marian's -reply to his letter containing the Berlin proposal. It was not his -death-warrant; he had survived the shock, and, indeed, had borne the -disappointment in a way that he did not think possible when the blow -first fell upon him. Under the blessed, soothing influence of time, -under the perhaps more effectual influence of active employment, his -mind had been weaned from dwelling on that dread blank which, as he at -first imagined, was to have been his sole outlook for the future. He -was young, and strong, and impressionable; he returned to London -inclined to be misanthropical and morose, disposed to believe in the -breaking of hearts and the crushing of hopes, and the rather pleasant -sensations of despair. But after a very short sojourn in the -metropolis, he was compelled to avow to himself the wisdom of Lady -Caroline Mansergh's prognostications concerning him, and the absolute -truth of everything she had said. A life of moping, of indulgence in -preposterous cynicism and self-compassion, was not for him; he was -meant for far better things--action in the present, distinction in the -future--those were to be his aims, and after a fortnight's indolence -and moodiness, he had flung himself into the work that was awaiting -him, and begun to labour at it with all his energy and all his -brain-power. - -Some little time afterwards, when Joyce thought over his mental -condition in those first days of his return to London, the cheap -cynicism, the pettishness, and the languor which he had suffered to -possess him, he wondered why old Jack Byrne, with whom he had taken up -his quarters, had not rebuked him for it, and one day, with some -considerable confusion, he asked the old man the reason. - -"Why didn't I speak to you about it, and pitch into you for it, my -boy?" said the old man, with his peculiar soft laugh. "Because it's -best to let some things have their run, and come to a stop of their -own accord. I saw plainly enough what would be the result of that love -business, long ago, when you first told me of it. Why didn't I say so -then? Why, you don't imagine I should have attempted to influence you -in such a matter, when I had never even seen the lady, and had only -general experience to take as my guide? I did give you as many hints -as I thought prudent or decent in a letter which I wrote to you, my -lad; but you didn't seem to profit by them much, or, indeed, to take -any heed of them. You went sailing away straight and smoothly enough -until that squall came down upon you and carried away your masts and -your rigging, and left you a helpless log tossing on the waters. It -was so nice to be a helpless log, wasn't it?--so nice that you thought -you would never be anything else. But, God bless you, I knew -differently; I'd seen the same case a hundred times before, and I knew -if you were left alone you would come all right in time. And now you -have come all right, and you're doing your work well, and they think -highly of you at the _Comet_ office." - -"I'm glad of that; that's the best news you could give me. Do they -think well of me? Do they think I do my work well, and----" - -"Good Lord, what a swallow the lad has for flummery!" grumbled old -Byrne. "He'd like me to repeat every word of praise to him. It's -wonderful to see how he glows under it--no, not wonderful, when one -recollects how young he is. Ah, youth, youth! Do they? Yes, of course -they do; you know that well enough. It's deuced lucky you gave up that -notion of going to Berlin, Walter, boy." - -"Yes," said Joyce, with a sigh, as he remembered all about the -proposal; "I'm better here." - -"Better here, I should think you were, indeed! A correspondent can't -do much in the way of making his mark. He can be serious and well -informed, or chatty and nonsensical; he can elect between describing -the councils of cabinets or the circumference of crinolines; but in -either case his scope is limited, and he can never get much fame for -himself. Now in your present position as an essayist and leader-writer -of remarkable ability--oh, you needn't pretend to blush, you know I -shouldn't say what I didn't think--there is possibly a very bright -future in store for you! And to think that years ago you possessed a -distaste for politics!" - -"It does seem ridiculous," said Walter, smiling. "I am always amused -when I remember my very wilful ignorance on such matters. However, the -credit of the conversion, if credit there be, is entirely owing to you -and O'Connor." - -"Not entirely, I'm thinking," said the old man. "I recollect your -telling me of a conversation you had with Lady Caroline Mansergh, in -which certain hopes were expressed and certain suggestions made, -which, I should say, had their effect in influencing your conduct. Am -I right, Walter?" And Mr. Byrne looked hard and keenly from under his -bushy eyebrows at his young friend. - -"Perfectly right!" said Walter, meeting his glance. "I think that the -remembrance of Lady Caroline's advice, and the knowledge that she -thought I had within me the power of distinguishing myself, were the -first inducements to me to shake off that horrible lethargic state -into which I had fallen!" - -"Well, we must take care that you fulfil all her ladyship's -expectations, Walter! What you are doing now must merely be a -stepping-stone to something much better. I don't intend to die until I -have seen you a leader in the people's cause, my boy! Oh yes, I allow -you're soundly with them now, and fight their battles well and -effectively with the pen; but I want to live to see you in Parliament, -to hear you riddling the plutocrats with your banter, and overwhelming -the aristocrats with your scorn!" - -"My dear old friend, I fear you pitch the note a little too high," -said Joyce, with a laugh. "I don't think you will ever see me among -the senators." - -"And why not?" asked old Byrne, in a very excited manner--"and why -not, pray? Is there any one speaks better at the Club? Is there any -one more popular among the leaders of the cause, or with them? If -those miserable Tories had not swallowed the leek fifty times in -succession, as they have just done, and thereby succeeded in clinging -to office for yet a few months, the chiefs of the party, or at least -of one section of it--the 'ultras,' as they are good enough to call -us--would have relied greatly on your advice and assistance, and when -the election comes, as come it must within a very short time, you will -see how you will be in requisition. And about your position, Walter? I -think we should look to that at once. I think you should lose no time -in entering yourself at some Inn of Court, and commence reading for -the bar!" - -"Don't ask me to make any change in my life at present, old friend!" -said Walter. "No!" as he saw the old man with an impatient gesture -about to speak--"no, I was not going to plead the want of the money; -for, in the first place, I know you would lend it to me, and in the -second I am myself making, as you know, an excellent income. But I -don't want to undertake anything more just now than what I am actually -engaged in. I am quite sufficiently occupied--and I am very happy." - -Old Byrne was compelled to be satisfied with this declaration, but he -grumbled out that it should only be temporary, and that he intended to -see Walter in a very different position before he died. - -Walter Joyce said nothing more than the truth when he said that he was -very happy. He had fallen into exactly the kind of life which suited -him, the pursuance of a congenial occupation amongst companions of -similar tastes. There are, I take it, but few of us professional -plyers of the pen who do not look back with regret and with something -akin to wonder to that halcyon time when we first entered upon -authorship; when the mere act of writing was in itself pleasant, when -the sight of a proof-sheet was calculated to fill one with infinite -delight, when one glowed with delight at praise, or writhed in agony -under attack. In after life, when the novelty has entirely worn off, -when the Pegasus which ambled, and kicked, and pranced, has settled -down into the serviceable hack of ordinary use, often obliged, like -other hacks, to go through his work and to put forth his paces at -inopportune times and seasons, it seems impossible to believe that -this freshness of feeling, this extraordinary enthusiasm, can ever -have existed; unless, perchance, you see the reflex of yourself in -some one else who is beginning to pursue the sunny verdant end of that -path which with you at present has worn down into a very commonplace -beaten track, and then you perceive that the illusion was not -specially your own, but is common to all who are in that happy -glorious season of youth. - -Walter Joyce was thoroughly happy. He had pleasant rooms in Staples -Inn--a quiet, quaint, old-world place, where the houses with their -overhanging eaves and gabled roofs and mullioned windows recall -memories of Continental cities and college "quads," and yet are only -just shut off from the never-ceasing bustle and riot of Holborn. The -furniture of these rooms was not very new, and there was not very much -of it; but the sitting-room boasted not merely of two big easy-chairs, -but of several rows of bookshelves, which had been well filled, by -Jack Byrne's generosity, with books which the old man had himself -selected; and in the bedroom there was a bed and a bath, which, in -Joyce's opinion, satisfied all reasonable expectations. Here, in the -morning, he read or wrote; for he was extending his connection with -literature, and found a ready market for his writings in several of -the more thoughtful periodicals of the day. In the afternoon he would -go down to the _Comet_ office, and take part in the daily conference -of the principal members of the staff. There present would be Mr. -Warren, the proprietor of the paper, who did not understand much about -journalism, as, indeed, could scarcely be expected of him, seeing that -the whole of his previous life had been taken up in attending to the -export provision trade, in which he had made his fortune, but who was -a capital man of business, looked after the financial affairs of the -concern, and limited his interference with the conduct of the paper in -listening to what others had to say. There would be Mr. Saltwell, who -devoted himself to foreign politics, who was a wonderful linguist, and -a skilful theological controversialist, and who, in his tight drab -trousers, cut-away coat, and bird's-eye cravat, looked like a racing -trainer or a tout; Mr. Gowan, a Scotchman, a veteran journalist of -enormous experience, who, as he used to say, had had scores of papers -"killed under him;" Mr. Forrest, a slashing writer, but always in -extremes, and who was always put on to any subject which it was -required should be highly lauded or shamefully abused--it did not -matter much to Mr. Forrest, who was a man of the world; and Mr. -Ledingham, a man of great learning but very ponderous in style and -recondite in subject, whose articles were described by Mr. Shimmer as -being "like roast pig, very nice occasionally, but not to be indulged -in often with impunity," were also usual attendants at the conference, -which was presided over by the recognised editor of the _Comet_, -Terence O'Connor. - -Mr. O'Connor was the type of a class of journalists which yet exists, -indeed, but is not nearly so numerous as it was a few years ago. Your -newspaper editor of to-day dines with the duke and looks in at the -countess's reception; his own reporter includes him amongst the -distinguished company which he, the reporter, "observes" at select -reunions; he rides in the Park, and drives down to his office from the -House of Commons, where he has been the centre of an admiring circle -of members, in his brougham. Shades of the great men of bygone -days--of White and Berry, of Kew and Captain Shandon--think of that -Terence O'Connor was of the old school. He had made journalism his -profession since he left Trinity, and had only won his position by -hard labour and untiring perseverance, had written in and edited -various provincial newspapers, had served his time as sub and hack on -the London press, and had eventually risen to the editorial chair -which he filled so admirably. A man of vast learning, with the -simplicity of a child, of keen common sense tempered with great -amicability, an admirable writer, an ardent politician, wielding great -power with never-failing impartiality, Terence O'Connor passed his -life in a world in which he was exceptionally influential, and to -which he was comparatively unknown. His neighbours at Clapham had -no idea that the slim gray-haired gentleman whom they saw pottering -about in his garden on summer afternoons, or lying on the grass -under the shade of a big tree playing with his children, was the -lightning-compeller and the thunder-creator of the _Comet_. Though -most earnest while engaged in his work, it was his greatest delight to -leave every trace of it behind him at his office, and to be entirely -free from its influence when at home with his wife and children. -Occasionally, of course, the few old friends who dined with him would -start a political or literary discussion, in which he would bear his -part; but he was never happy until the conversation found its way back -into the ordinary social channels, or until a demand was made for -music, of which he was passionately fond. It was a lucky thing for -Walter Joyce to make the acquaintance and to win the regard of such a -man as Terence O'Connor, who had a wonderfully quick eye for -character, and who, having noticed Walter's readiness of appreciation -and bright incisive style in the few articles which he wrote on the -occasion of his first introduction by Mr. Byrne, suggested that the -post at Berlin should be offered to him. The more they were thrown -together the better they liked each other. Walter had the greatest -admiration for O'Connor's talent and power of work; while the elder -man looked kindly on his young friend's eagerness and enthusiasm, his -desire for distinction, and his delight at laudation, perhaps as -somewhat reflecting his own feelings before he had become settled down -to the mill-horse grind--ah, how many years ago! - -After the conference had broken up, Joyce, to whom, perhaps, a subject -had been given to treat, would go back to his chambers and work at it -for two or three hours, or he would remain at the office discussing -the matter in detail with Terence O'Connor, and taking his friend's -advice as to the manner of treatment. Or, if he were free, he would -lounge in the Park, and stare at the equipages, and the toilettes, and -the London panorama of luxury there constantly going by, all new to -the country-bred young man, to whom, until he went to Lord -Hetherington's, the old rumbling chariot of Sir Thomas Churchill, with -its worsted-epauletted coachman and footman, was a miracle of comfort -and a triumph of taste. Or he would ramble out with Shimmer, or -Forrest, or some other of his colleagues, to the suburbs, over the -breezy heights of Hampstead, or through the green Willesden lanes, and -get the city dust and smoke blown out of them. When he was not on duty -at the office at night, Walter would sometimes take the newspaper -admission and visit the theatre; but he had little taste for the -drama, or rather, perhaps, for such dramatic representations as were -then in vogue, and it pleased him much more to attend the meetings of -the Forum, a club constituted for the purpose of discussing the -principal political and social questions of the day, and composed -of young barristers and newspaper writers, with a sprinkling of -public-office men, who met in the large room of a tavern situated in -one of the quiet streets leading from Fleet Street to the river. The -leaders of the different political parties, and others whose deeds or -works had given them celebrity or notoriety, were happy in their -ignorance of the existence of the Forum, or they must have been -rendered uncomfortable by finding themselves the objects of so much -wild denunciation. The members of the Forum were not in the habit of -concealing their opinions, or of moderating the language in which -those opinions were expressed; and the debate in which the then -holders of office were not denounced as effete and useless -nincompoops, bound by degrading ties of subserviency to a policy -which, while originally dangerous, was now degrading, or in which the -leaders of the Opposition were not stigmatised as base-bred ruffians, -linked together by the common bond of ignorance with the common hope -of rapine--was considered dull and spiritless indeed. As Mr. Byrne had -intimated, Walter Joyce was one of the most prominent members of this -debating club; he had a clear resonant voice, capable of excellent -modulation, and spoke with fluency. His speeches, which were tinged -with a far more pronounced radicalism--the effect of the teaching of -Jack Byrne--than had previously been promulgated at the meetings of -the Forum, soon became widely talked of among the members and their -friends, and Walter's rising was eagerly looked forward to, and warmly -hailed, not merely for the novelty of his doctrine, but for the -boldness and the humour with which he sought to inculcate it. His -success was so great that the heads of the Tory party in the club -became alarmed, and thought it necessary to send off for Alister -Portcullis, who was formerly the great speaker on their side, but who -had recently become editor of a provincial paper, to return to town, -and oppose Joyce on one or two special subjects of discussion. -Portcullis came up to London, and the encounter took place before -a room crowded to the ceiling (it was rumoured--and believed by -some--that the Premier and the leader of the Opposition were present, -with wigs drawn over their eyes and comforters over their noses), and -re-echoing to the cheers of the partisans. Walter was understood to -have held his own, and, indeed, to have had the best of it; but -Portcullis made a very good speech, covering his opponent with sarcasm -and invective, and declaiming against the cause which he represented -with a whirlwind of fury which greatly incensed old Jack Byrne, who -happened to be sitting immediately beneath him. - -Political feeling ran very high just at that time, and the result of -the forthcoming election was looked forward to with the greatest -confidence by the Radicals. The organisation of the party was very -complete. A central committee, of which Mr. Byrne and Terence O'Connor -were members, had its sittings in London, and was in daily -communication with the various local committees of the principal -provincial towns, and most of the intending candidates had been -despatched to make a tour of the neighbourhood which they proposed to -represent, with the view of ascertaining the feelings of the electors, -and ingratiating themselves with them. - -Among these touring candidates was young Mr. Bokenham, who aspired to -represent the constituency of Brocksopp. Young Bokenham had been -selected by the central committee principally because his father was a -very influential manufacturer, and because he himself, though not -specially clever or deeply versed in politics, was recommended as -fluent, of good appearance, and eminently docile and lead able. The -reports which during and after his visit came up from the local to the -central committee by no means bore out the recommendation. The fact -was that young Mr. Bokenham, who had at a very early age been sent to -Eton, who had been a gentleman commoner of Christchurch, and who had -always had his own way and the command of large sums of money to -enable him to do as he pleased, had become, as is very often the case -under the influence of such surroundings, a perfect type of the -parvenu and the plutocrat, and had, if anything, rather an antipathy -for that cause of which he was about to offer himself as one of the -representatives. To announce this would, however, he was aware, be -simply to renounce the very large fortune which would accrue to him at -his father's death, and which the old man, who had been a staunch -Radical from his earliest days, and who gloried in being a self-made -man, would certainly have dispersed through a thousand charitable -channels rather than allow one penny of it to be touched by his -politically renegade son. Moreover, young Bokenham pined for the -distinction of parliament membership, which he knew, for the present -at least, was only to be obtained by holding to his father's political -principles; and so ho professed to be in earnest in the matter, and -went down to Brocksopp and called on the principal people of the -place, and convened a few meetings and delivered a few speeches. But -the Brocksopp folk were very badly impressed. They utterly failed to -recognise young Tommy Bokenham, as they had always spoken of him among -themselves during all the years of his absence, in the bearded, -natty-booted, delicately gloved gentleman, who minced his words and -used a perfumed handkerchief, and talked about the chah-tah of our -lib-ah-ties. His manner was unpleasant and offensive, and his matter -was not half sufficiently peppered to suit the tastes of the Brocksopp -Radicals, who could not be too frequently reminded that they were the -salt of the earth, and that the horny hand of labour was what their -intending representative was always wishing to clasp. Young Mr. -Bokenham, no longer Tommy after he had once been seen, objected to the -horny hand of labour, disliked the smell of factories, and the manner -and appearance of the working-classes altogether. He could not drink -much at the public-houses, and the smell of the strong shag tobacco -made him ill, and in fact his first tour for canvassing was a woful -and egregious failure, and was so reported to the central committee in -London by their Brocksopp agents. - -On this report the committee met, and had a long and earnest -consultation. Brocksopp was an important place, and one which it was -most desirable to secure. No other candidate possessing such wealth or -such local influence as young Bokenham could be found, and it was -therefore imperative that he should be carried through. It was, -however, necessary that his mistakes should be pointed out to him, and -he should be thoroughly well schooled and advised as to his future -proceedings. He was accordingly invited to attend the next meeting of -the committee, which he did, and received a three-hours' drilling with -great composure. He promised to adopt all the suggestions which were -made, and to carry out all the plans which were proposed. Walter -Joyce, who happened to be present, was much amused at Mr. Bokenham's -great amiability and power of acquiescence, and was about saying so to -Mr. Byrne, who was seated next him, when he was startled by hearing -the candidate say, in answer to a question from one of the committee -as to whether any one was in the field on the Tory side-- - -"Oh yes; an old gentleman named Creswell, a retired manufacturer of -great wealth and position in those parts." - -"Is he likely to make a strong fight?" - -"Well, ya-as!" drawled young Bokenham. "Old boy's not supposed to care -particularly about it himself, don't you know; but he's lately married -a young wife--doosid pretty woman, and all that kind of thing--and -they say she's set her heart on becoming the memberess." - -"Do you hear that?" whispered Byrne to Joyce. - -"I do," replied Walter. "This man is a fool; but he must be got in, -and Mr. Creswell must be kept out, at all hazards." - -And Jack Byrne grinned. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. -RIDING AT ANCHOR. - - -The intention, one of the first which Marian Creswell had expressed -after her marriage, and one which had so incensed Gertrude, of -converting the girls' music-room into a boudoir, had long since been -carried out. Almost immediately after he had returned from his wedding -trip, Mr. Creswell had sent to London for decorators and upholsterers. -An army of foreign artists, much given to beard and pantomimical -gesture, to humming scraps of operas over their work, and to furtively -smoking cigarettes in the shrubberies whenever they could evade the -stern eye of the overseer, had arrived upon the scene; and when they -returned to town they left the music-room, which had been a bleak, -gaunt, cheerless apartment enough, a miracle of brightness and -cosiness, elegance and comfort. Everybody was astonished at the -change, and the young ladies themselves were compelled to confess that -the boudoir, as it then appeared, was perfectly charming, and that -really, perhaps, after all, Mrs. Creswell might have been actuated, -apart from mere malevolence and spite, by some sense and appreciation -of the capabilities of the room in the selection she had made. There -was a good deal of actual truth in this judgment; Marian had -determined to take the earliest opportunity of asserting herself -against the girls and letting them know the superiority of her -position; she had also intended, if ever she were able, to gratify -the wish to have a room of her own, where she might be absolute -mistress, surrounded by her books, pictures, and other belongings; and -by the acquisition of the music-room she was able to accomplish both -these intentions. Moreover, the windows of the music-room looked out -towards Helmingham. Half-way towards the dim distance stood the old -schoolhouse, where she had been born, where all her childhood had -been spent, and where she had been comparatively innocent and -unworldly; for though the worship of wealth had probably been innate -in her, and had grown with her growth and strengthened with her -strength, she had not then sacrificed others to her own avarice, nor -forfeited her self-respect for the gratification of her overwhelming -passion. In a person differently constituted, the constant -contemplation of such views might have had an irritating or a -depressing effect, but Marian's strength of mind rendered her -independent of any such feeling. She never thought with regret of the -step she had taken; she never had the remotest twinge of conscience as -to the manner in which she had behaved to Walter Joyce; she was -frequently in the habit of passing all the circumstances in review in -her mind, and invariably came to the conclusion that she had acted -wisely, and that, were she placed in a similar position again, she -should do exactly the same. No; she was able to think over all the -passages of her first and only love--that love which she bad -deliberately cast from the pedestal of her heart, and trampled under -foot--without an extra pulsation of excitement or regret. She would -pass hour after hour in gazing from her window on distant places -where, far removed from the chance of intrusion by the prying -villagers--who, however, were profoundly ignorant of what was going -on--she would have stolen interviews with her lover, listening to his -fond words, and experiencing a kind of pleasure such as she had -hitherto thought nothing but the acquisition of money could create. -Very tranquilly she thought of the bygone time, and looked across the -landscape at the well-known places. She had slipped so easily into her -present position, and settled herself so firmly there, that she could -scarcely believe there had been a time when she had been poor and -dependent, when she had been unable to exercise her every whim and -fancy, and when she had been without an elderly gray-haired gentleman -in constant attendance upon her, and eager to anticipate her very -slightest wish. - -One afternoon, about eight months after her mother's death, Marian was -sitting at the window of her boudoir, gazing vacantly at the landscape -before her. She did not see the trees, erst so glorious in their -russet garments, now half-stripped and shivering in the bitter -autumnal wind that came booming over the distant hills, and moaned -wearily over the plain; she did not see the little stream that lately -flashed so merrily in the summer sunlight, but had now become a brown -and swollen foaming torrent, roaring where it had softly sung, and -bursting over its broad banks instead of coyly slipping through its -pebbly shallows; she did not see the birds now skimming over the -surface of the ground, now rising, but with no lofty flight, the -harbingers of coming storm; she did not see the dun clouds banking up -to windward; nor did she note any of the outward characteristics of -the scene. She was dull and bored, and it was a relief when she heard -the handle of the door turned, and, looking round, saw her husband in -the room. - -There was nothing of palpable uxoriousness--that most unpleasant of -displayed qualities, especially in elderly people--in the manner in -which Mr. Creswell advanced and, bending over his wife, took her face -in his hands and kissed her cheek; nor in the way in which he sat down -beside her and passed his hands over her shining hair; nor in the -words of tenderness with which he addressed her. All was relieved by a -touch of dignity, by an evidence of earnest sincerity, and the veriest -cynic and scoffer at the domesticity and what Charles Lamb called the -"behaviour of married people," would have found nothing to ridicule in -the undisguised love and admiration of the old man for his young wife, -so quietly were they exhibited. - -"What made you fly away in that hurry from the library just now, -darling?" said he. "You just peeped in, and were off again, never -heeding my calling to you to remain." - -"I had no notion you were engaged, or that anybody was here!" said -Marian. - -"I am never engaged when you want me, and there is never anybody here -whose business is of equal importance with your pleasure." - -"When did you cultivate the art of saying pretty things?" asked -Marian, smiling. "Is it a recent acquisition, or one of old standing, -which had only rusted from disuse?" - -"I never had occasion to try whether I possessed the power until you -came to me," said Mr. Creswell, with an old-fashioned bow. "There, -oddly enough, I was talking about speaking in public, and the trick of -pleasing people by public speaking, to those two men when you looked -into the room." - -"Indeed. Who were your visitors?" - -"I thought you would have recognised old Croke, of Brocksopp; he -seemed a little hurt at your running away without speaking to him; but -I put him right. The other gentleman has corresponded with you, but -never seen you before--Mr. Gould, of London. You wrote to him just -after poor Tom's death, you recollect, about that sale." - -"I recollect perfectly," said Marian. (She remembered In an instant -Joyce's allusion to the man in his first memorable letter.) "But what -brought him here at this time? There is no question of the sale now?" - -"No, dearest; but Mr. Gould has a very large practice as a -parliamentary agent and lawyer, and he has come down here about the -election." - -"The election? I thought that was all put off!" - -"Put off?" repeated Mr. Creswell. "Indefinitely? For ever?" - -"I'm sure you told me so." - -"Now, that is so like a woman The idea of an election being quietly -put aside in that way! No, child, no; it was postponed merely; it is -expected to come off very shortly." - -"And what have these two men to do with it?" - -"These two men, as you call them, have a great deal to do with it. Mr. -Croke is a leading man amongst the Conservative party--that is my -party, you understand, child--in Brocksopp, and Mr. Gould is to be my -London agent, having Mr. Teesdale, whom you know, as his lieutenant, -on the spot." - -"You speak of 'my party,' and 'my agent,' as though you had fully made -up your mind to go in for the election. Is it so?" - -"I had promised to do so," said Mr. Creswell, again with the -old-fashioned bow, "before you did me the honour to accept the -position which you so worthily fill; and I fear, even had you -objected, that I should scarcely have been able to retract. But when I -mentioned it to you, you said nothing to lead me to believe that you -did object." - -"Nor do I in the very smallest degree. On the contrary, I think it -most advisable and most important. What are your chances of success?" - -"Well, on the whole, good; though it struck me that our friends who -have just gone were a little too sanguine, and--at least, so far as -Mr. Croke was concerned--a little too much disposed to underrate the -strength of the enemy." - -"The enemy? Ah!--I forgot. Who is our opponent?" Mr. Creswell heard -the change in the pronoun, and was delighted. - -"A certain young Mr. Bokenham, son of an old friend and contemporary -of mine, who was launched in life about the same time that I was, and -seemed to progress step by step with me. I am the younger man by some -years, I believe; but," continued the old gentleman, with an odd, -half-sheepish look, "it seems curious to find myself running a tilt -with Tommy Bokenham, who was not born when I was a grown man!" - -"The position is one with which age has very little to do," said -Marian, with a slight hardening of her voice. "No, if anything, I -should imagine that a man of experience and knowledge of the world had -a better chance than a young and necessarily unformed man, such as Mr. -Bokenham. You say that your friends seemed confident?" - -"A little too confident. Old Croke is a Tory to the backbone, and will -not believe in the possibility of a Liberal being returned for the -borough; and Mr. Gould seems to depend very much on the local reports -which he has had from men of the Croke stamp, and which are all of the -most roseate hue." - -"Over-certainty is the almost infallible precursor of failure. And we -must not fail in this matter. Don't you think you yourself had better -look into it more closely than you have done?" - -"My darling one, you give me an interest in the matter which -previously -it never possessed to me! I will turn my attention to it at once, go -into the details as a matter of business, and take care that, if -winning is possible, we shall win. No trouble or expense shall be -spared about it, child, you may depend; though what has given you this -sudden start I cannot imagine. I should have thought that the ambition -of being a member's wife was one which had never entered your head." - -"My head is always ready to serve as a receptacle for schemes for my -husband's advancement, whether they be of my own, or his, or other -people's prompting," said Marian, demurely. And the old gentleman bent -over her again, and kissed her on the forehead. - -What was this sudden interest in these election proceedings on -Marian's part, and whence did it arise? Was it mere verbiage, pleasant -talk to flatter her husband, showing feigned excitement about his -prospects to hide the real carelessness and insouciance which she -could not choose but feel? Was she tired of his perpetual presence in -waiting upon her, and did she long to be rid of her patient slave, -untiring both in eye and ear in attention to her wants, almost before -they were expressed? There are many women who weary very speedily of -suit and service perpetually paid them, who sicken of compliments and -attentions, as the pastry-cooks' boys are said to do, after the -unrestricted gratification of their tart-appetites, in the early days -of their apprenticeship. Did she talk at random with the mere idea of -making things pleasant to her husband, and with the knowledge that the -mere fact of any expression of interest on her part in any action of -his would be more than appreciated? Not one whit. Marian never talked -at random, and knew her power sufficiently to be aware that there was -no need for the expression of any forced feeling where Mr. Creswell -was concerned. The fact was--and it was not the first time she had -acknowledged it to herself, though she had never before seen her way -clearly to effect any alteration--the fact was that she was bored out -of her life. The golden apples of the Hesperides, gained after so much -trouble, so much lulling of the dragon of conscience, had a smack of -the Dead Sea fruit in them, after all! The money had been obtained, -and the position had been compassed, it was true; but what were they? -What good had she gathered from the money, beyond the fact of the mere -material comforts of house, and dress, and equipage? What was the -position, but that of wife of the leading man in the very narrow -circle in which she had always lived? She was the centre of the -circle, truly; but the circle itself had not enlarged. The elegant -carriage, and the champing horses, and the obsequious servants, were -gratifying in their way; but there was but little satisfaction in -thinking that the sight of her enjoyment of them was confined to Jack -Forman, sunning himself at the ale-house door, and vacantly doffing -his cap as homage to her as she swept by, or to the villagers amongst -whom she had been reared, who ran to their doors as they heard the -rumbling of the wheels, and returned to their back parlours, envying -her her state, it is true, but congratulating themselves with the -recollection of the ultimate fate of Dives in the parable, and -assuring each other that the difference of sex would have no material -effect on the great result. Dull, cruelly dull, that was all she could -make of it, look at it how she would. To people of their social status -society in that neighbourhood was infinitely more limited than to -those in lower grades. An occasional visit from, and an occasional -dinner with, Sir Thomas and Lady Churchill at the Park, or some of the -richer and more influential Brocksopp commercial magnates, comprised -all their attempts at society. The rector of Helmingham was a studious -man, who cared little for heavy dinner-parties, and a proud man, who -would accept no hospitality which he could not return in an equal way; -and as for Dr. Osborne, he had been remarkably sparing of his visits -to Woolgreaves since his passage-of-arms with Mrs. Creswell. When he -did call he invariably addressed himself to Mr. Creswell, and did not -in the least attempt to conceal that his feelings had been wounded by -Marian in a manner which no lapse of time could heal. - -No! the fact was there: the money had been gained, but what it had -brought was utterly insufficient to Marian's requirements. The evil -passion of ambition, which had always been dormant in her, overpowered -by the evil passion of avarice, began, now that the cravings of its -sister vice were appeased, to clamour aloud and make itself heard. -What good to a savage is the possession of the gem of purest ray -serene, when by his comrades a bit of glass or tinsel would be equally -prized and appreciated? What good was the possession of wealth among -the inhabitants of Helmingham and Brocksopp, by whom the Churchills of -the Park were held in far greater honour, as being--a statement which, -though religiously believed, was utterly devoid of foundation--of the -"real owd stock"? The notion of her husband's election to Parliament -gave Marian new hopes and new ideas. Unconsciously throughout her life -she had lived upon excitement, and she required it still. In what she -had imagined wore merely humdrum days in the bygone times she had had -her excitement of plotting and scheming how to make both ends meet, -and of dreaming of the possible riches; then she had her love affair, -and there had flashed into her mind the great idea of her life, the -intention of establishing herself as mistress of Woolgreaves. All -these things were now played out; the riches had come, the old love -was buried beneath them, the position was attained. But the necessity -for excitement remained, and there was a chance for gratifying it. -Marian was pining for society. What was the use of her being clever, -as she had always been considered, if the candle of her talent were -always to be hidden under the Brocksopp bushel? She longed to mix with -clever people, amongst whom she would be able to hold her own by her -natural gifts, and more than her own by her wealth. To be known in the -London world, with the entry into it which her husband's position -would secure to her, and then to distinguish herself there, that was -the new excitement which Marian Creswell craved, and day by day she -recurred to the subject of the election, and discussed its details -with her husband, delighting him with the interest which she showed in -the scheme, and by the shrewd practical common sense which she brought -to bear upon it. - -Meanwhile the relations existing between Mrs. Creswell and her -recently acquired connections, Maude and Gertrude, had not been placed -on any more satisfactory footing. They lived together under an armed -truce rather than a state of peace, seeing as little of each other as -possible, Marian ignoring the girls in every possible way, except when -they were perforce brought under her notice, and the girls studiously -acting without reference to any supposed wishes or ideas of Mrs. -Creswell's. Mr. Creswell followed his wife's lead exactly; he was so -entirely wrapped up in her and her doings that he had no eye nor ear -for any one else, and he would probably have been very much astonished -if he had been told that a complete estrangement had taken place -between him and the other members of his family, and would positively -have denied it. Such, however, was the case. The girls, beyond seeing -their uncle at meals, were left entirely to their own devices; and it -was, under the circumstances, fortunate for their future that their -past training had been such as it had been. Gertrude, indeed, was -perfectly happy; for although Mr. Benthall had not actually proposed -to her, there was a tacit understanding of engagement between them. He -occasionally visited at Woolgreaves, and during the summer they had -met frequently at various garden-parties in the neighbourhood; and -Maude was as quiet and earnest and self-contained as ever, busied in -her work, delighting in her music, and, oddly enough, having one thing -in common with Mrs. Creswell--an interest in the forthcoming election, -of which she had heard from Mr. Benthall, who was a violent politician -of the Liberal school. - -One day the girls were sitting in the room which had been assigned to -them on the establishment of the boudoir, and which was a huge, lofty, -and by no means uncomfortable room, rendered additionally bright and -cheerful by Gertrude's tasty handiwork and clever arrangement. It was -one of those close warm days which come upon us suddenly sometimes, -when the autumn has been deepening into winter, and the reign of fires -has commenced. The sun had been shining with much of his old summer -power, and the girls had been enjoying his warmth, and had let the -fire out, and left the door open, and had just suspended their -occupations--Maude had been copying music, and Gertrude -letter-writing--owing to the want of light, and were chatting previous -to the summons of the dressing bell. - -"Where is madam this afternoon, Maude?" asked Gertrude, after a little -silence. - -"Shut up in the library with uncle and Mr. Gould--that man who comes -from London about the election. I heard uncle send for her." - -"Lor', now, how odd!" said unsophisticated Gertrude; "she seems all of -a sudden to have taken great interest in this election thing." - -"Naturally enough, Gerty," said Maude. "Mrs. Creswell is one of the -most ambitious women in the world, and this 'election thing,' as you -call it, is to do her more good, and gain her higher position, than -she ever dreamed of until she heard of it." - -"What a curious girl you are, Maude! How you do think of things! What -makes you think that?" - -"Think it--I'm sure of it. I've noticed the difference in her manner, -and the way in which she has thrown herself into this question more -than any other since her marriage, and brought all her brains--and she -has plenty--to uncle's help. Poor dear uncle!" - -"Ah, poor dear uncle! Do you think madam really cares for him?" - -"Cares for him? Yes, as a stepping-stone for herself, as a means to -the end she requires." - -"Ah, Maude, how dreadful! But you know what I mean; do you think she -loves him--you know?" - -"My dear Gerty, Marian Ashurst never loved anybody but one, and--" - -"Ah, I know who you mean; that man who kept the school--no, not kept -the school, was usher to Mr. Ashurst--Mr.--Joyce: that was it. She was -fond of him, wasn't she?" - -"She was engaged to him, if the report we heard was true; but as to -fond of him--the only person Marian Ashurst ever cared for was--Marian -Ashurst!--Who's there?" - -A figure glided past the open door, dimly seen in the waning -light. But there was no response, and Gertrude's remark of "Only one -of the servants" was almost drowned in the clanging summons of the -dinner-bell. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. -THE OPPORTUNITY. - - -Mr. Bokenham did not improve in the estimation either of the -constituency of Brocksopp, or of those in London who had the guidance -of electioneering matters in the borough in the Liberal interest. The -aspiring candidate was tolerably amenable at first, went down as often -as the policy of such a course was suggested to him, and visited all -the people whose names were on the list with which he was supplied; -though his objectionable manner, and his evident lack of real interest -in the place and its inhabitants, militated very much against his -success. But after a little time he neglected even these slight means -for cultivating popularity. A young man, with an excellent income, and -with the prospect of a very large fortune on his father's death, has -very little trouble in getting into such society as would be most -congenial to him, more especially when that society is such as is most -affected by the classes which he apes. Young Mr. Bokenham, whose chief -desire in life was, as his sharp-seeing, keen-witted old father said -of him, to "sink the shop," laid himself out especially for the -company of men of birth and position, and he succeeded in hooking -himself on to one of the fastest and most raffish sets in London. The -fact that he was a _novus homo_, and that his father was "in trade," -which had caused him to be held up to ridicule at Eton, and had -rendered men shy of knowing him at Christchurch, had, he was delighted -to perceive, no such effect in the great city. He began with a few -acquaintances picked up in public, but, he speedily enlarged and -improved his connection. The majors, with the billiard-table brevet, -the captains, and the shabby old bucks of St. Alban's Place, with whom -Tommy Bokenham at first consorted, were soon renounced for men of a -widely different stamp, so far as birth and breeding were concerned, -but with much the same tastes, and more means and opportunities of -gratifying them. It is probable that Mr. Bokenham owed his -introduction among these scions of the upper circles to a notion, -prevalent among a certain section of them, that he might be induced to -plunge into the mysteries of the turf, and to bet largely, even if he -did not undertake a racing establishment. But they were entirely -wrong. Young Tommy had not sufficient physical go and pluck in him for -anything that required energy; he commanded his position in the set in -which, to his great delight, at length he found himself, by giving -elaborate dinners and occasionally lending money in moderate amounts, -in return for which he was allowed to show himself in public in the -company of his noble acquaintances, and was introduced by them to -certain of their male and female friends, the latter of whom were -especially frank and demonstrative in their reception and welcome of -him. - -The fascination of this kind of life, which began to dawn on young Mr. -Bokenham almost concurrently with the idea of his standing for the -borough of Brocksopp, soon proved to be incompatible with the proper -discharge of the duties required of him as candidate. He found the -necessity for frequent visits to his intended constituents becoming -more and more of a nuisance to him, and entirely declined a suggestion -which was made to the effect that now, as the time of the election was -so near at hand, it would be advisable for him to take up his -residence at his father's house, and give his undivided attention to -his canvassing. It was pointed out to him that his opponent, Mr. -Creswell, was always on the spot, and, quite unexpectedly, had -recently shown the greatest interest in the forthcoming struggle, and -was availing himself of every means in his power to insure his -success; but Tommy Bokenham refused to "bury himself at Brocksopp," as -he phrased it, until it was absolutely necessary. "It is positively -cruel," wrote Mr. Harrington, a clever young clerk, who had been -despatched by his principals, Messrs. Potter and Fyfe, the great -parliamentary agents, to report how matters were progressing in the -borough, "to see how Mr. B. is cutting out the running for the other -side! I've had a talk with South, the attorney, who is acting for us -down here, a shrewd, sensible fellow, and he says there is every hope -of our pulling through, even as we are, but that if we had only -brought another kind of man to the post, our success would be a -moral." Old Mr. Potter, a very rigid old gentleman residing at -Clapham, and deacon of a chapel there, growled very much, both over -the matter and the manner of this communication. - -"What does this young man mean," he asked, peering over the paper at -his partner through his double glasses, "by using this turf slang? -Bring a man to the 'post!' and a 'moral' indeed!--a word I should not -have expected to find in this gentleman's vocabulary." But Mr. Fyfe, -who had a sneaking liking for sport, appeased the old gentleman, and -pointed out that the letter, though oddly worded, was really full of -good and reliable information, and that young Harrington had executed -his commission cleverly. Both partners shook their heads over this -further account of their candidate's shortcomings, and decided that -some immediate steps must be taken to retrieve their position. The -time of election was imminent; their opponent was resident, -indefatigable, and popular; and though the report from Harrington -spoke of ultimate success with almost certainty, it would not do to -run the smallest risk in a borough which they had pledged their credit -to wrest from Tory domination. - -Messrs. Potter and Fyfe were not likely men to ventilate in public any -opinions which they may have held regarding the business matters on -which they were employed, but the inattention of Mr. Bokenham to his -duties, and the manner in which he was throwing away his chances began -to be talked of at the _Comet_ office, and the news of it even -penetrated to Jack Byrne's little club. It was on the day after he had -first heard of it that the old man walked up to Joyce's chambers, and -on entering found his friend at home, and glad to see him. After a -little desultory conversation, old Byrne began to talk of the subject -with which he was filled. - -"Have you heard anything lately of that man who was going to contest -your old quarters, or thereabouts, for us, Walter? What's his name? -Bokenham! that's it," he said. - -"Oh yes," answered Joyce, "oddly enough, they were talking of him last -night at the office. I went into O'Connor's room just as Forrest, who -had come down with some not very clearly defined story from the -Reform, was suggesting a slashing article with the view of what he -called 'rousing to action' this very young man. O'Connor pooh-poohed -the notion and put Forrest off; but from what he said to me -afterwards, I imagine Mr. Bokenham is scarcely the man for the -emergency--a good deal too lukewarm and dilettante. They won't stand -that sort of thing in Brocksopp, and it's a point with our party, and -especially with me, that Brocksopp should be won." - -"Especially with you," repeated the old man; "ay, ay, I mind you -saying that before! That's strong reaction from the old feeling, -Walter!" - -"Strong but not unnatural, I think. You, to whom I told the story when -I first knew you, will remember what my feelings were towards--towards -that lady. You will remember how entirely I imagined my life bound up -in hers, my happiness centred on all she might say or do. You saw what -happened--how she flung me aside at the very first opportunity, with -scant ceremony and shallow excuses, careless what effect her treachery -might have had upon me." - -"It was all for the best, lad, as it turned out." - -"As it turned out, yes! But how did she know that, when she did it? -Had she known that it would have turned out for the worst, for the -very worst, would she have stayed her hand and altered her purpose? -Not she." - -"I don't like to see you vindictive, boy; recollect she's a woman, and -that once you were fond of her." - -"I am not vindictive, as I take it; and when I think of her treatment -of me, the recollection that I was fond of her is not very likely to -have a softening effect. See here, old friend: in cold blood, and with -due deliberation, Marian Ashurst extinguished what was then the one -light in my sufficiently dreary life. Fortune has given me the chance, -I think, of returning the compliment, and I intend to do it." - -Jack Byrne turned uneasily in his chair; it was evident that his -sentiments were not in accord with those of his friend. After a -minute's pause he said, "Even supposing that the old eye-for-eye and -tooth-for-tooth retribution were allowable--which I am by no means -disposed to grant, especially where women are concerned--are you quite -sure that in adopting it you are getting at what you wish to attain? -You have never said so, but it must be as obvious to you as it is to -me that Mrs. Creswell does not care for her husband. Do you think, -then, she will be particularly influenced by a matter in which his -personal vanity is alone involved?" - -Joyce smiled somewhat grimly. "My dear old friend, it was Mrs. -Creswell's ambition that dealt me what might have been my _coup de -grâce_. My anxiety about this contest at grimly springs from my desire -to wound Mrs. Creswell's ambition. My knowledge of that lady is -sufficient to prove to me, as clearly as though I were in her most -sacred confidence, that she is most desirous that her husband should -be returned to Parliament. The few words that were dropped by that -idiot Bokenham the other day pointed to this, but I should have been -sure of it if I had not heard them. After all, it is the natural -result, and what might have been expected. During her poverty her -prayer was for money. Money acquired, another want takes its place, -and so it will be to the end of the chapter." - -As Joyce ceased speaking there was a knock at the door, and Jack Byrne -opening it, admitted young Mr. Harrington, the confidential clerk of -Messrs. Potter and Fyfe. Young Mr. Harrington was festively attired in -a garb of sporting cut, and wore his curved-rimmed hat on the top of -his right ear; but there was an unusual, anxious look in his face, and -he showed signs of great mental perturbation, not having, as he -afterwards allowed to his intimate friends, "been so thoroughly -knocked out of time since Magsman went a mucker for the Two Thou'." -This perturbation was at once noticed by Mr. Byrne. - -"Ah, Mr. Harrington," said he; "glad to see you, sir. Not looking -quite so fresh as usual," he added, with a cynical grin. "What's the -matter--nothing wrong in the great turf world, I trust? Sister to -Saucebox has not turned out a roarer, or Billy Billingsgate broken -down badly?" - -"Thank you very much for your kind inquiries, Mr. Byrne," said Mr. -Harrington, eyeing the old man steadily, without changing a muscle of -his face. "I'll not forget to score up one to you, sir, and I'll take -care to repay you that little funniment on the first convenient -opportunity. Just now I've got something else in hand. Look here, -let's stow this gaff! Mr. Joyce, my business is with you. The fact is, -there is an awful smash-up at Brocksopp, and my governors want to see -you at once." - -"At Brocksopp?" said Joyce, with a start. "A smash at Brocksopp?" - -"Yes," said Mr. Harrington. "The man that we were all depending on, -young Mr. Bokenham, has come to grief." - -"Dead?" exclaimed old Byrne. - -"Oh no, not at all; political rather than social grief, I should -have said. The fact is, so far as we can make out, Lord and Lady -Steppe--you know Lady Steppe, Mr. Joyce, or, at all events, your -friend Shimmer of the _Comet_ could tell you all about her: she was -Miss Tentose in the ballet at the Lane--have persuaded our sucking -senator to go to Egypt with them for the winter. Lady S.'s influence -is great in that quarter, I understand--so great that he pitches up -Brocksopp, and let's us all slide!" - -"Given up Brocksopp?" said old Byrne. - -"Chucked up his cards, sir," said Harrington, "when the game was in -his hand. My governors' people are regularly up a tree, cornered, and -all that; so they want to see you, Mr. Joyce, at once, and have sent -me to fetch you." - -"To fetch him! Potter and Fyfe, of Abingdon Street, have sent you to -fetch him" cried old Byrne, in great excitement. "Walter, do you -think--do you recollect what I said to you some time ago? Can it be -that it's coming on now?" - -Joyce made no verbal reply, but he grasped his old friend's hand -warmly, and immediately afterwards started off with Mr. Harrington in -the hansom cab which that gentleman had waiting at the door. - - -The idea that had flashed through old Jack Byrne's mind, -preposterously exaggerated as it had at first seemed to him, was -nevertheless correct. When Joyce arrived at Messrs. Potter and Fyfe's -office, he found there not merely those gentlemen, but with them -several of the leading members of the party, and a deputation of two -or three Liberals from Brocksopp, with whom Joyce was acquainted. Mr. -Moule and Mr. Spalding, nervously excited, stepped forwards and shook -hands with the young man in a jerky kind of manner. Immediately -afterwards, backing again towards their chairs, on the extremest -edge of which they propped themselves, they hid their hands in their -coat-sleeves, and looked round in a furtive manner. - -After a few formal speeches, Mr. Potter proceeded at once to business. -Addressing Joyce, he said it was probably known to him that the -gentleman on whom they had hitherto depended as a candidate for -Brocksopp had thrown them over, and at the eleventh hour had left them -to seek for another representative. In a few well-chosen and -diplomatically rounded sentences, Mr. Potter pointed out that the task -that Mr. Bokenham had imposed upon them was by no means so difficult a -one as might have been imagined. Mr. Potter would not, he said, -indulge in any lengthened speech. His business was simply to explain -the wishes of those for whom he and his partner had the honour to -act--here he looked towards the leaders of the party, who did not -attempt to disguise the fact that they were growing rather bored by -the Potterian eloquence--and those wishes were, in so many words, that -Mr. Joyce should step into the place which Mr. Bokenham had left -vacant. - -One of the leaders of the party here manifesting an intention of -having something to say, and wishing to say it, Mr. Fyfe promptly -interposed with the remark that he should be able to controvert an -assertion, which he saw his young friend Mr. Joyce about to make, to -the effect that he would be unable to carry on the contest for want of -means. He, Mr. Fyfe, was empowered to assert that old Mr. Bokenham was -so enraged at his son's defalcation, which he believed to have been -mainly brought about by Tory agency, Lord Steppe's father, the Earl of -Stair, being a notoriously bigoted Blue, that he was prepared to -guarantee the expenses of any candidate approved of by the party and -by the town. Mr. Fyfe here pausing to take breath, the leader, who had -been previously baulked, cut in with a neat expression of the party's -approval of Mr. Joyce, and Mr. Spalding murmured a few incoherent -words to the effect that during a life-long acquaintance with his -young friend the people of Brocksopp had been in entire ignorance -that he had anything in him, politically or otherwise, beyond -book-learning, and that was the main reason for their wishing him to -represent them in Parliament. - -Although a faint dawning of the truth had come across him when Mr. -Harrington announced young Bokenham's defection, Walter Joyce had no -definite idea of the honour in store for him. Very modestly, and in -very few words, he accepted the candidature, promising to use every -exertion for the attainment of success. He was too much excited and -overcome to enter into any elaborate discussion at that time. All he -could do was to thank the leading members of the party for their -confidence, to inform the parliamentary-agent firm that he would wait -upon them the next day, and to assure Messrs. Spalding and Moule that -the Liberals of Brocksopp would find him among them immediately. Did -Walter Joyce falter for one instant in the scheme of retribution which -he had foreshadowed, now that he was to be its exponent, now that the -vengeance which he had anticipated was to be worked out by himself? -No! On the contrary, he was more satisfied in being able to assure -himself of the edge of the weapon, and of the strength of the arm by -which the blow should be dealt. - - -"We calculated too soon upon the effect of young Bokenham's escapade, -darling," said Mr. Creswell to his wife, on his return after a day in -Brocksopp. "The field is by no means to be left clear to us. The walls -of the town are blazing with the placards of a new candidate in the -Liberal interest--a clever man, I believe--who is to have all the -elder Bokenham's backing, and who, from previous connection, may -probably have certain local interests of his own." - -"Previous connection--local interest? Who can it be?" asked Marian. - -"An old acquaintance of yours, I should imagine; at least, the name is -familiar to me in connection with your father and the old days of -Helmingham school. The signature to the address is 'Walter Joyce.'" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. -CANVASSING. - - -Splendid as was the opportunity just offered to Walter Joyce by the -parliamentary agents, it is more than probable that he would have -declined to profit by it had the scene of action been laid anywhere -else than in Brocksopp, and his opponent been any one other than Mr. -Creswell. Although utterly changed from the usher in a country school, -who was accustomed to take life as it came,--or indeed from the young -man who, when he obtained Lord Hetherington's private secretaryship, -looked upon himself as settled for life,--Joyce had even now scarcely -any ambition, in the common acceptation of the word. To most men -brought up as he had been, membership of parliament would have meant -London life in good society, excellent station of one's own, power of -dispensing patronage and conferring favours on others, and very -excellent opportunity for getting something pleasant and remunerative -for one's self, when the chance offered. To Walter Joyce it meant the -acceptance of a sacred trust, to the proper discharge and fulfilment -of which all his energies were pledged by the mere fact of his -acceptance of the candidature. Not, indeed, that he had ever had any -thoughts of relinquishing his recently acquired profession, the press; -he looked to that as his sole means of support; but he felt that -should he be successful in obtaining a seat in the House, his work -would be worth a great deal more than it bad hitherto been, and he -should be able to keep his income at the same amount while he devoted -half of the time thus saved to his political duties. - -But being, as has been said, thoroughly happy in his then career, -Joyce would never have thought of entertaining the proposition made to -him through the medium of Messrs. Potter and Fyfe had it not been for -the desire of revenging himself on Marian Creswell by opposing to the -last, and, if possible, in every honourable way, by defeating, her -husband. Joyce felt perfectly certain that Mr. Creswell--quiet, -easy-going old gentleman as he had been of late years, and more likely -than ever to be disinclined to leave his retirement and do battle in -the world since his son's death--was a mere puppet in the hands of his -wife, whose ambition had prompted her to make her husband seek the -honour, and whose vanity would be deeply wounded at his failure. -Walter Joyce's personal vanity was also implicated in the result, and -he certainly would not have accepted the overtures had there not been -a good chance of success; but Mr. Harrington, who, out of his -business, was a remarkably sharp, shrewd, and farseeing man of the -world and of business, spoke very positively on this point, and -declared their numbers were so strong, and the popular excitement so -great in their favour, that they could scarcely fail of success, -provided they had the right man to bring forward. To win the day -against her; to show her that the man she basely rejected and put -aside was preferred, in a great struggle, to the man she had chosen; -that the position which she had so coveted for her husband, and -towards the attainment of which she had brought into play all the -influence of her wit and his money, had been snatched from her by the -poor usher whom she had found good enough to play with in her early -days, but who was thrust aside, his fidelity and devotion availing him -nothing, directly a more eligible opportunity offered itself--that -would be sweet indeed! Yes, his mind was made up; he would use all his -energies for the prosecution of the scheme: it should be war to the -knife between him and Marian Creswell. - -Joyce's manner was so thorough and so hearty, his remarks were so -practical, and his spirits so high, when he called on Messrs. Potter -and Fyfe on the next day, that those gentlemen were far better pleased -with him, and far more sanguine of his popularity and consequent -success at Brocksopp, than they had been after the first interview. -Modesty and self-depreciation were qualities very seldom seen, and -very little esteemed, in the parliamentary agents' offices in Abingdon -Street. The opinion of the head of the firm was that Walter wanted -"go;" and it was only owing to the strenuous Interposition of Mr. -Harrington, who knew Joyce's writings, and had more than once heard -him speak in public, that they did not openly bemoan their choice and -proceed to look out for somebody else. This, however, they did not do; -neither did they mention their doubts to the deputation from -Brocksopp, the members of which did not, indeed, give them time to do -so, had they been so inclined, clearing out so soon as the interview -was over, and harking back to the Tavistock Hotel, in Covent Garden, -there to eat enormous dinners, and thence to sally forth for the -enjoyment of those festivities in which our provincials so much -delight, and the reminiscences of which serve for discussion for -months afterwards. The parliamentary agents were very glad of their -reticence the next day. The young man's heartiness and high spirits -seemed contagious; the sound of laughter, a phenomenon in Abingdon -Street, was heard by Mr. Harrington to issue from "the governors' -room;" and old Mr. Potter forgot so far the staid dignity of a -chapel-deacon as to clap Walter Joyce on the back, and wish him luck. -Joyce was going down on his first canvass to Brocksopp by himself; he -would not take any one with him, not even Mr. Harrington; he was much -obliged to them; he knew something of Mr. South, the local Liberal -agent (he laughed inwardly as he said this, remembering how he used to -look upon Mr. South as a tremendous gun), and he had no doubt they -would get on very well together. - -"You know South, Mr. Joyce?" said Mr. Fyfe; "what a very curious -thing! I should have thought that old South's celebrity was entirely -local, or at all events confined to the county." - -"Doubtless it is," replied Joyce; "but then you know I----" - -"Ah! I forgot," interrupted Mr. Fyfe. "You have some relations with -the place. Yes, yes, I heard! By the way, then, I suppose you know -your opponent, Mr. Kerswill--Creswell--what's his name?" - -"Oh yes, I remember Mr. Creswell perfectly; but he never saw much of -me, and I should scarcely think would recollect me!" - -"Ah! you'll excuse me, my dear sir," Mr. Fyfe added, after a short -pause; "but of course there's no necessity to impress upon you the -importance of courtesy towards your opponent--I mean Kerswill. You're -certain to meet on the hustings; and most probably, in a swellish -place like Brocksopp, you'll be constantly running across each other -in the streets while you're on your canvass. Then, courtesy, my dear -sir, before everything else!" - -"You need not be afraid, Mr. Fyfe," said Joyce, smiling; "I shall be -perfectly courteous to Mr. Creswell." - -"Of course you will, my dear sir; of course you will! Mustn't think it -odd in me to suggest it; part of my business to point these things out -when I'm coaching a candidate; and necessary too, deuced necessary -sometimes, though you wouldn't think it. Less than six months ago, -when poor Wiggington was lost in his yacht in the Mediterranean--you -remember?--we sent down a man to stand for his borough. Lord---- No! I -won't tell you his name; but the eldest son of an earl. The other side -sent down a man too--a brewer, or a maltster, or something of that -kind; but a deucedly gentlemanly fellow. They met on their canvass, -these two, just as you and Kerswill might; and this man, like a -gentleman, took off his hat. What did our man do? Stopped still, stuck -his glass in his eye, and stared; never bowed, never moved; give you -my word. Had to withdraw him at once; his committee stood by and saw -it, and wouldn't act for him any more. 'Lordship be damned!' that's -what they said. Strong language, but that's what they said; give you -my word. Had to withdraw him, too late to find another man; so our -people lost the seat." - -The first thing that astonished Joyce on his arrival at Brocksopp was -the sight of his own name printed in large letters on flaming -placards, and affixed in all the conspicuous places of the town. He -had not given consideration to this sudden notoriety, and his first -realisation of it was in connection with the thought of the effect it -would have on Marian, who must have seen it; her husband must have -told her of the name of his opponent; she must have been certain that -it was not a person of similar name, but her discarded lover himself -who was waging battle against her, and attacking her husband in the -stronghold which he might have even considered safe. She would know -the sentiments which had prompted him in leaving her last letter -unanswered, in taking no notice of her since the avowal of her -perfidy. Up to this time she might have pictured him to herself as -ever bewailing her loss--as would have been the case had she been -taken from him by death--as the prey of despair. Now she must know him -as actuated by feelings far stronger and sterner; he was prepared to -do battle to the death. This feeling was pre-eminent above all others; -this desire for revenge, this delight at the occasion which had been -offered him for lowering the pride and thwarting the designs of the -woman who had done him such great wrong. He never faltered in his -intention for a moment; he abated his scheming not one jot. He had -some idea on the journey down to Brocksopp that perhaps the old -reminiscences, which would naturally be kindled by the sight of the -familiar scenes among which he would soon find himself, and of the -once familiar faces by which he would be surrounded, would have a -softening effect on his anger, and perhaps somewhat shake his -determination. But on experience he did not find it so. As yet he had -religiously kept away from the neighbourhood of Helmingham; he thought -it better taste to do so, and his duties in canvassing had not called -him thither. He had quite enough to do in calling on the voters -resident in Brocksopp. - -As Walter Joyce had not been to Helmingham, the village folk, who in -their old-fashioned way were oddly punctilious, thought it a point of -etiquette not to call upon him, though such as were politically of his -way of thinking took care to let him know he might reckon on their -support; and of all the people whom Walter had been in the habit of -seeing almost daily in the village, Jack Forman, the ne'er-do-weel, -was the only one who came over expressly to Brocksopp for the purpose -of visiting his old friend. It was not so much friendship as constant -thirst that prompted Jack's visit; he had been in the habit of looking -on elections as institutions for the gratuitous supply of ale and -spirits, extending more or less over the term of a month, to all who -chose to ask for them, and hitherto he had been greatly disappointed -in not finding his name on the free list of the Helmingham taverns. So -it was well worth Jack's while to spend a day in staggering over to -Brocksopp, and on his arrival he met with a very kind reception from -Walter, sufficiently kind to enable him to bear up against the black -looks and ill-suppressed growls of Mr. South, who, in his capacity of -clerk to the magistrates, only knew Jack as a bit of a poacher, and a -great deal of a drunkard. - -Immediately on his arrival in Brocksopp, and after one or two -preliminary interviews with Mr. South, who, as he imagined, had -forgotten all about him, and was much struck by his knowledge of -neighbouring persons and localities, Joyce proceeded with his canvass, -and after a very brief experience felt that Mr. Harrington had not -taken too rose-coloured a view of his chance of success. Although to -most of the electors of Brocksopp he was personally unknown, and -though such as remembered his father held him in recollection only as -a sour, cross-grained man, with a leaning towards "Methodee" and a -suspicion of avarice, the fact that Walter was not an entire stranger -had great influence with many of the electors, and his appearance and -manner won him troops of friends. They liked his frank face and hearty -demeanour, they felt that he was eminently "thorough," the lack of -which quality had been the chief ground of complaint against young -Bokenham, and they delighted in his lucid argument and terse way of -laying a question before them and driving it home to their -understanding. In this he had the advantage of his opponent; and many -waverers, with undefined political opinions, who attended the public -meetings of both parties, were won over to Joyce's side by the -applause with which his speeches were received, and by the feeling -that a man who could produce such an effect on his hearers must -necessarily be a clever man, and the right person to be sent by them -to Parliament. The fact was allowed even by his opponents. Mr. -Teesdale wrote up to Mr. Gould that things were anything but bright, -that the new man was amazingly popular, and quite young, which was not -a bad thing when great exertion was required; that he was, moreover, a -clever, rapid, forcible speaker, and seemed to be leaving their man -very much behind. And old Croke, who had been induced to attend a -meeting convened by the Liberals, and who, though for respectability's -sake he had made no open disturbance, had been dreadfully shocked at -the doctrines which he had heard, not merely promulgated, but loudly -applauded, was afterwards compelled to confess to a select few at the -Lion that the manner, if not the matter of Walter Joyce's speech was -excellent. "Our squire," he said, "speaks like a gen'alman as he is, -soft and quiet like, on and on like the droppin' o' watter, but this -un du screw it into you hard and fast; and not content wi' drivin' on -it home, he rivets un on t'other side." - -Electioneering matters in Brocksopp wore a very different aspect to -that which they had borne a short time previously. Mr. Teesdale had -seen from the beginning that the candidature of young Mr. Bokenham was -not likely to be very dangerous to his opponent, however liberally he -might be backed by his indulgent father. The local agent, who had -lived all his life among the Brocksoppians, was quite aware that they -required a man who would at all events pretend to be in earnest, -whichever suffrages he courted, and his keen eyes told him at the -first glance that young Tommy was a vacillating, purposeless -pleasure-lover, who would command no confidence, and receive but few -votes. When the Bokenham escapade took place Mr. Teesdale telegraphed -the news to his principal, Mr. Gould, and in writing to him on the -same subject by the next post said, "It is exactly what I always -anticipated of young B., though his friends did not apparently see it. -I think it will be a shock to the L.'s, and should not be surprised if -our man had a walk-over." Mr. Teesdale was essentially a country -gentleman, and though he thought Mr. Harrington a "turfy cad," saw no -harm in occasionally employing a sporting phrase, even in his -business. But now all was altered; the appearance of Walter Joyce upon -the scene, the manner in which he was backed, his gentlemanly conduct -and excellent speaking had an immediate and extraordinary effect. The -Tory influence under Sir George Kent had been so all-powerful for -many years, that all thoughts of a contest had, been abandoned, and -there were scores of men, farmers and manufacturers, on the register, -who had never taken the trouble to record their vote. To the -astonishment and dismay of Mr. Teesdale, most of them on being waited -on in Mr. Creswell's interest, declared that their leanings were more -towards Liberalism than Conservatism, and that now they had the chance -of returning a candidate who would do them credit and be a proper -advocate of their views, they should certainly give him their support. -The fact, too, that Joyce was a self-made man told immensely in his -favour, especially with the manufacturing classes. Mr. Harrington, who -had paid a couple of flying visits to the town, had possessed himself -of certain portions of Walter's family history, and disseminated them -in such quarters as he thought would be advantageous. - -"Father were grocer in village hard by!" they would repeat to one -another in wonder, "and this young un stuck to his buke, and so -crammed his head wi' lurnin' that he's towt tu three Lards up in -London, and writes in newspapers--think o' that now!" It was in vain -that Mr. Teesdale, when he heard of the success of his opponent's -move, went about pointing out that Mr. Creswell was not only a -self-made man, having risen from nothing to his then eminence, but -that all the money which he had made was engaged in the employment and -development of labour. The argument was sound, but it did not seem to -have the same effect; whatever it was, it had the same result, a -decided preference for Mr. Joyce as against Mr. Creswell, amongst -those who, possessing votes, had hitherto declined to use them. - -But there was another class which it was necessary to propitiate, and -with which Mr. Teesdale was afraid he stood but little chance. Many of -the "hands" had obtained votes since the last election, and intended -making use of their newly acquired prerogative. There was no fear of -their not voting; the only question was on which side they would cast -the preponderance of their influence. This was soon seen. Naturally -they were inclined to support Walter Joyce, but whatever lingering -doubts they may have had were dispelled as soon as Jack Byrne appeared -upon the scene, and, despite of Joyce's protests, determined on -remaining to assist in the canvass. "Why not?" said Jack; "let me have -my way. I'm an old man now, lad, and haven't so many fancies that I -mayn't indulge one now and again. The business suffer!" he said, in -reply to something that Walter had said; "the business, indeed! You -know well enough that the bird-stuffing now is a mere pretext--a mere -something that I keep for my 'idle hands to do,' and that it's no -necessity, thank the Lord! So let me bide here, lad, and aid in the -good work. I think I may be of use among a few of them yet." And he -was right. Not merely was the old man's name known and venerated among -the older "hands," as one of the "martyrs of '48," but his quaint -caustic tongue made him an immense favourite with the younger men; and -soon there were no meetings brought to a close without loud demands -for a "bit speech" from Jack Byrne. - -Nor was it amongst the farmer and manufacturing classes alone that Mr. -Joyce received pledges of support. Several of the neighbouring county -gentry and clergy, who had hung back during Mr. Bokenham's -candidature, enrolled themselves on the committee of the new-comer; -and one of his most active adherents was Mr. Benthall. It was not -until after due deliberation, and much weighing of pros and cons, that -the head-master of Helmingham Grammar School took this step; but he -smiled when he had thoroughly made up his mind, and muttered something -to himself about its being "a shot for madam in more ways than one." -When he had decided he was by no means underhand in his conduct, but -went straight to Mr. Creswell, taking the opportunity of catching him -away from home and alone, and told him that the Benthall family had -been staunch Liberals for generations; and that, however much he might -regret being opposed in politics to a gentleman for whom he -entertained such a profound esteem and regard, he could not forswear -the family political faith. Mr. Creswell made him a polite reply, and -forthwith forgot all about it; and Marian, though she was in the habit -of questioning her husband pretty closely at the end of each day as to -the progress he had made, looked upon Mr. Benthall's vote as so -perfectly secure that she never asked about the matter. - -Notwithstanding the favourable reception which he met with everywhere, -and the success which seemed invariably to attend him in his canvass, -Joyce found it very heavy work. The constant excitement soon began to -tell upon him, and the absurdity of the questions sometimes asked, or -the pledges occasionally required of him, irritated him so much that -he began to inquire of himself whether he was really wise in going -through with the affair, and whether he was not paying a little too -dearly even for that revenge for which he had longed, and which was -almost within his grasp. His fidelity to the cause to which he had -pledged himself would doubtless have caused him to smother these -murmurings without any extraneous aid; but just at that time he had an -adventure which at once put an end to all doubt on the subject. - -One bright wintry morning he arose at the hotel with the determination -to take a day's rest from his labours, and to endeavour to recruit -himself by a little quiet and fresh air. He had been up late the -previous night at a very large meeting of his supporters, the largest -as yet gathered together, which he had addressed with even more than -wonted effect. He felt that he was speaking more forcibly than usual; -he could not tell why, he did not even know what prompted him; but he -felt it. It could not have been the presence of the parliamentary -agent, Mr. Fyfe, who had come down from London to see bow his young -friend was getting on, and who was really very much astonished at his -young friend's eloquence. Walter Joyce was speaking of the way in -which the opposite party had, when in power, broken the pledges they -had given, and laughed to scorn the promises they had made when -seeking power, and in dilating upon it he used a personal -illustration, comparing the voters to a girl who had been jilted and -betrayed by her lover, who had been unexpectedly raised to riches. -Unconsciously fired by his own experience, he displayed a most -forcible and highly wrought picture of the despair of the girl and the -villainy of the man, and roused his audience to a perfect storm of -enthusiasm. No one who heard him, as he thought, except Jack Byrne, -had the least inkling of his story, or of its effect upon his -eloquence; but the "hands" were immensely touched and delighted, and -the effect was electrical. Walter went home thoroughly knocked up, and -the next morning the reaction had set in. He felt it impossible to -attend to business, sent messages to Mr. Fyfe and to Byrne, telling -them they must get on without him for the day, and, after a slight -breakfast, hurried out of the hotel by the back way. There were always -plenty of loafers and idlers hanging round all sides of the house, -eager to stare at him, to prefer a petition to him, or to point him -out to their friends; but this morning he was lucky enough to escape -them, and, thanks to his knowledge of the locality, to strike upon an -unfrequented path, which soon took him clear of the town and brought -him to the open fields. - -He had forgotten the direction in which the path led, or he would most -probably have avoided it and chosen some other, for there lay -Helmingham village directly before him. Hitherto he had carefully -avoided even looking towards it, but there it was, under his eyes. At -some distance it is true, but still sufficiently near for him, with -his knowledge of the place, to recognise every outline. There, away on -the horizon, was the schoolhouse; there the church; there, dipping -down towards the middle of the High Street, the house which had been -so long his father's. What years ago it seemed! There were -alterations, too; several newly built houses, a newly made road -leading, he supposed, to Woolgreaves. Woolgreaves! he could not see -the house, he was thankful for that, but he overlooked a portion of -the grounds from where he stood, and saw the sun reflected from much -sparkling glass, evidently conservatories of recent erection. "She's -spending the price for which she sold me!" he muttered to himself. - -He crossed a couple of fields, clambered over a hedge, and jumped down -into the newly made road which he had noticed, intending, after -pursuing it a short distance, to strike across, leaving Woolgreaves on -his right, and make for Helmingham. He could roam about the outskirts -of the old place without attracting attention and without any chance -of meeting with her. He had gone but a very little way when he heard a -sharp, clear, silvery tinkling of little bells, then the noise of -horse-hoofs on the hard, dry road, and presently came in sight a -little low carriage, drawn by a very perfect pair of iron-gray ponies, -and driven by a lady dressed in a sealskin cloak and a coquettish -sealskin hat. He knew her in an instant. Marian! - -While he was deliberating what to do, whether to remain where he was -or jump the hedge and disappear, before he could take any action the -pony carriage had neared him, and the ponies were stopped by his side. -She had seen him in the distance, and recognised him too; he knew that -by the flush that overspread her usually pale face. She was looking -bright and well, and far handsomer than he ever remembered her. He had -time to notice all that in one glance, before she spoke. - -"I am glad of this accidental meeting, Mr. Joyce!" she said, with the -slightest tremor in her voice, "for though I had made up my mind to -see you I did not see the opportunity." - -Walter merely bowed. - -"Do you mind walking with me for five minutes? I'll not detain you -longer." Walter bowed again. "Thank you very much. James, follow with -the ponies." She stepped out of the carriage with perfect grace and -dignity, just touching with the tips of her fingers the arm which -Walter, half in spite of himself, held out. - -"You will not expect me to act any part in this matter, Mr. Joyce," -she said, after a moment's pause. "I mean to make no pretence of being -astonished at finding you here, in direct opposition to me and mine!" - -"No, indeed! that would be time wasted, Mrs. Creswell," said Walter, -speaking for the first time. "Opposition to you and yours is surely -the thing most likely to be expected in me." - -"Exactly! Although at first I scarcely thought you would take the -breaking off of our relations in the way you did, I guessed it when -you did not write; I knew it, of course, when you started here, but I -was never so certain of your feelings in regard to me as I was last -night." - -"Last night?" - -"Last night! I was present at the Mechanics' Institute, sitting in the -gallery with my maid and her brother as escort. I had heard much of -your eloquence, and wanted to be convinced. It seems I selected a -specially good occasion. You were particularly scathing." - -"I spoke what I felt----" - -"No doubt; you could not have spoken so without having felt all you -described, so that I can completely imagine how you feel towards me. -But you are a sensible man, as well as a good speaker, and that is why -I have determined to apply to you." - -"What do you want, Mrs. Creswell?" - -"I want you to go out of this place, Mr. Joyce; to take your name off -the walls, and your candidature out of the county! I want you to give -up your opposition to my husband. You are too strong for him--you -personally; not your cause, but you. We know that; the last three days -have convinced everybody of that, and you'll win the election if you -stop." - -Joyce laughed aloud. "I know I shall," he said, his eyes gleaming. - -"What then?" said Marian, quietly. "Do you know what a poor member of -Parliament is, 'hanging on' at every one's beck and call, bunted by -all, respected by none, not knowing which to serve most as most likely -to be able to serve him--would you like to be that, would your pride -suffer that? That's all these people want of you--to make you their -tool, their party's tool; for you yourself they have not the remotest -care. Do you hear?" - -"I do. But you have not told me, Mrs. Creswell, what I should get for -retiring?" - -"Your own terms, Walter Joyce, whatever they were. A competence for -life--enough to give you leisure to follow the life in which, as I -understand, you have engaged, in ease, when and where you liked. No -drudgery, no anxiety, all your own settled on yourself!" - -"You are strangely anxious about the result of this election, Mrs. -Creswell." - -"It am--and I am willing to pay for it." - -Joyce laughed again--a very unpleasant laugh. "My dear Mrs. Creswell," -said he, "if government could promise me ten times your husband's -fortune to withdraw from this contest, I would refuse. If I had your -husband's fortune, I would gladly forfeit it for the chance of winning -this election, and defeating you. You will excuse my naming a money -value for such pleasure; but I know that hitherto it has been the only -one you could understand or appreciate. Good morning!" And he took off -his hat and left her standing in the road. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. -BAFFLED. - - -Marian remained standing where Walter Joyce had left her, gazing after -his retreating figure until it had passed out of sight. At first so -little did she comprehend the full meaning of the curt sentence in -which he had conveyed to her his abrupt rejection of the bribe which -she had proposed to him, his perfect appreciation of the snare which -she had prepared for him, that she had some sort of an idea that he -would hesitate on his career, stop, turn back, and finally consent, if -not to an immediate concession to her views, at all events to some -further discussion, with a view to future settlement. But after his -parting bow he strode unrelentingly onward, and it was not until he -had reached the end of the newly made road, and, dropping down into -the meadows leading to Helmingham, had entirely disappeared, that -Marian realised how completely she had been foiled, was able to -understand, to estimate, and, in estimating, to wince under, the -bitter scorn with which her suggestion had been received, the scathing -terms in which that scorn had been conveyed. A money value for -anything to be desired--that was the only way in which he could make -it clear to her understanding or appreciation--was not that what he -had said? A money value Marian Creswell was not of those who -sedulously hide their own failings from themselves, shrink at the very -thought of them, make cupboard-skeletons of them, to be always kept -under turned key. Too sensible for this, she knew that this treatment -only enhanced the importance of the skeleton, without at all -benefiting its possessor, felt that much the better plan was to take -it out and subject it to examination, observe its form and its -articulation, dust its bones, see that its joints swung easily, and -replace it in its cupboard-home. But all these rites were, of course, -performed in private, and the world was to be kept in strict ignorance -of the existence of the skeleton. And now Walter Joyce knew of it; a -money value, her sole standard of appreciation. Odd as it may seem, -Marian had never taken the trouble to imagine to herself to what -motive Walter would ascribe her rejection of him, her preference of -Mr. Creswell. True, she had herself spoken in her last letter of the -impossibility of her enjoying life without wealth and the luxuries -which wealth commands, but she had argued to herself that he would -scarcely have believed that, principally, perhaps, from the fact of -her having advanced the statement so boldly, and now she found him -throwing the argument in her teeth. And if Walter knew and understood -this to be the dominant passion of her soul, the great motive power of -her life, the knowledge was surely not confined to him--others would -know it too. In gaining her position as Mr. Creswell's wife, her -success, her elation, had been so great as completely to absorb her -thoughts, and what people might say as to the manner in which that -success had been obtained, or the reasons for which the position had -been sought, had never troubled her for one instant. Now, however, she -saw at once that her designs had been suspected, and doubtless talked -of, sneered at, and jested over, and her heart beat with extra speed, -and the blood suffused her cheeks, as she thought of how she had -probably been the subject of alehouse gossip, how the townsfolk and -villagers amongst whom, since the canvassing time, she had recently -been so much, must have all discussed her after she had left their -houses, and all had their passing joke at the young woman who had -married the old man for his money. She stamped her foot in rage upon -the ground as the idea came into her mind; it was too horrible to -think she should have afforded scandal-matter to these low people, it -was so galling to her pride; she almost wished that--and just then the -sharp, clear, silvery tinkle of the little bells sounded on her ear, -and the perfectly-appointed carriage with the iron-gray ponies came -into view, and the next minute she had taken the reins from James, had -received his salute, and, drawing her sealskin cloak closely round -her, was spinning towards her luxurious home, with the feeling that -she could put up with all their talk, and endure all their remarks, so -long as she enjoyed the material comforts which money, had undoubtedly -brought her. - -Marian started on her return drive in a pleasant frame of mind, but -the glow of satisfaction had passed away long before she reached home, -and had been succeeded by very different feelings. She no longer cared -what the neighbouring people might say about her; she had quite got -over that, and was pondering, with gradually increasing fury, over the -manner in which Walter Joyce had received her proposition, and the -light and airy scorn, never for one moment striven to be concealed, -with which he had tossed it aside. She bit her lip in anger and -vexation as she thought of her tremendous folly in so speedily -unfolding her plan without previously making herself acquainted with -Joyce's views, and seeing how he was likely to receive the suggestion; -she was furious with herself as she recalled his light laugh and easy -bearing, so different from anything she had previously seen in him, -and--by the way, that was odd; she had not noticed it before, but -undoubtedly he was very much improved in appearance and manner; he had -lost the rustic awkwardness and bashfulness which had previously -rendered him somewhat ungainly, and had acquired confidence and ease. -She had heard this before; her husband had mentioned it to her as -having been told him by Mr. Teesdale, who kept the keenest outlook on -Joyce and his doings, and who regarded him as a very dangerous -opponent; she had heard this before, but she had paid but little -attention to it, not thinking that she should so soon have an -opportunity of personally verifying the assertion. She acknowledged it -now; saw that it was exactly the manner which would prove wonderfully -winning among the electors, who were neither to be awed by distant -demeanour nor to be cajoled by excessive familiarity. In Walter -Joyce's pleasant bearing and cheery way there was a something which -seemed to say, "I am of you, and understand you, although I may have -had, perhaps, a few more brains and a little better education;" and -there was nothing that more quickly got to the hearts of the -Brocksoppians than the feeling that they were about to elect one of -themselves. This was a chord which Mr. Creswell could never touch, -although he had every claim to do so, and although Mr. Gould had had -thousands of a little pamphlet struck off and circulated among the -voters--a little pamphlet supposed to be Mr. Creswell's biography, -adorned with woodcuts borrowed from some previous publication, the -first of which represented Mr. Creswell as a cabin-boy, about to -receive the punishment of the "colt" from the mate--he had scarcely -been on board ship during his life--while the last showed him, and -Mrs. Creswell, with short waist, long train, and high ostrich feathers -in her head (supposed to have been originally the _vera_ effigies of -some lady mayoress in George the Third's, time), receiving the cream -of the aristocracy in a gilded saloon. But the people declined to -believe in the biography, which, indeed, did rather more harm than -good, and cast doubt on the real history of Mr. Creswell's -self-manufacture, than which, in its way, nothing could be more -creditable. - -Before Marian had reached her home she had revolved all these things -very carefully in her mind, and the result which she arrived at was, -that as it was impossible to purchase peace, and as the fight must now -be fought out at all hazards, the only way--not indeed to insure -success, for that was out of the question, but to stand a good chance -for it--was to pay fresh and unremitting attention to the canvassing, -and, above all, to try personally to enlist the sympathies of the -voters, not leaving it, as in Woolgreaves it had hitherto been done, -to Mr. Teesdale and his emissaries. With all her belief in money, -Marian had a faith in position, which, though lately born, was -springing up apace, and she felt that Squire Creswell might yet win -many a vote which would be given to him out of respect to his status -in the county, if he would only exert himself to obtain it. - -Full of this idea, she drove through the lodge-gates at Woolgreaves, -any little qualms or heart-sinkings which she might have recently felt -disappearing entirely as she looked round upon the trim gardens, trim -even in those first days of winter, and upon the long line of -conservatories which had recently risen under her direction, as the -hall-doors opened at her approach, and as she stepped out of her -pony-carriage, the mistress of that handsome mansion, warmed and -flower-scented and luxurious. Her pleasure was a little dashed when -she found that Mr. Creswell had been carried off into Brocksopp by Mr. -Gould, who had come down unexpectedly from London, and that Mr. -Benthall was seated in the drawing-room with Maude and Gertrude, -evidently intending to remain to luncheon, if he were invited. But she -rallied in a moment, and accorded the invitation graciously, and did -the honours of the luncheon table with all proper hospitality. Once or -twice she winced a little at the obvious understanding between -Gertrude and Mr. Benthall; a state of things for which, though to some -extent prepared, she was by no means particularly grateful. It was not -entirely new to her, this flirtation; she had noticed something of it -a while ago, and her husband had made it the subject of one of his -mild little jokes to her; but she had matters of greater import to -attend to just then, and would see how it should be treated when the -election was over. - -After luncheon Marian, recollecting the determination she had arrived -at in her homeward drive, was minded to put it in force at once, and -accordingly said to her visitor, "Are you going back to the school, -Mr. Benthall, or do you make holiday this afternoon?" - -"Fortunately, my dear Mrs. Creswell," said Mr. Benthall, with a slight -sign of that indolence which the consumption of an excellent luncheon -superinduces in a man of full habit--"fortunately the law has done -that for me! Wednesdays and Saturdays are half-holidays by--well, I -don't know exactly by Act of Parliament, but at all events by -Helmingham rule and system; so, to-day being Saturday, I am absolved -from further work. To my infinite satisfaction, I confess." - -"I am glad of that," said Marian; "for it will leave you free to -accept my proposition. I have some business in Brocksopp, and I want -an escort. Will you come?" - -"I shall be delighted," replied Mr. Benthall, "though I shall keep up -my unfortunate character for plain speaking by asking you not to -dawdle too long in the shops! I do get so horridly impatient while -ladies are turning over a counterful of goods!" - -"My dear Mr. Benthall, pray spare yourself any such dreadful -anticipations! The business that takes me into Brocksopp is of a -widely different character." - -"And that is----" - -"How can you ask at such a crisis?" said Marian, in a mock heroic -style, for her spirits always rose at the prospect of action. "In what -business should a wife be engaged at such a time but her husband's? My -business of course is--electioneering!" - -"Electioneering--you?" - -"Well, canvassing; you know perfectly well what I mean!" - -"And you want me to go with you?" - -"Why not? Mr. Benthall, what on earth is all this questioning about?" - -"My dear Mrs. Creswell, do you not know that it is impossible for me -to go with you on the expedition you propose?" - -"No, I do not know it! Why is it impossible?" - -"Simply because in politics I happen to be diametrically opposed to -Mr. Creswell. My sympathies are strongly Liberal." - -"Then, in the present election your intention is to vote against Mr. -Creswell, and for his opponent?" - -"Undoubtedly. Is this the first time you have heard this?" - -"Most unquestionably! Who should have told me?" - -"Mr. Creswell! Directly it was known that he would come forward in the -Conservative interest, I told him my views!" - -"He did not mention the circumstance to me," said Marian; then added, -after a moment, "I never asked him about you, to be sure! I had no -idea that there was the least doubt of the way in which you intended -to vote." - -There was a dead silence for a few minutes after this, a pause during -which Gertrude Creswell took advantage of Marian's abstraction to -catch Maude's eye, and to shape her mouth into the silent expression -of the word "Row"--delivered three times with great solemnity. At -last Marian looked up and said, with an evidently forced smile, "Well, -then, I must be content to shrug my shoulders, and submit to these -dreadful politics so far dividing us that I must give up all idea of -your accompanying me into Brocksopp, Mr. Benthall; but I shall be -obliged if you will give me five minutes' conversation--I will not -detain you longer--in the library." - -Mr. Benthall, muttering that he should be delighted, rose from his -chair and opened the door for his hostess to pass out; before he -followed her he turned round to glance at, the girls, and again -Gertrude's fresh rosy lips pressed themselves together and then opened -fur the silent expression of the word "Row," but he took no notice of -this cabalistic sign beyond nodding his head in a reassuring manner, -and then followed Mrs. Creswell to the library. - -"Pray be seated, Mr. Benthall," said Marian, dropping into a -chair at the writing-table, and commencing to sketch vaguely on the -blotting-book with a dry pen; "the news you told me just now has come -upon me quite unexpectedly. I had no idea--looking at your intimacy in -this house--intimacy which, as far as I know, has continued -uninterruptedly to the present moment--no idea that you could have -been going to act against us at so serious a crisis as the present." - -Mr. Benthall did not like Mrs. Creswell, but he was a man of the -world, and he could not avoid admiring the delicious insolence of the -tone of voice which lent additional relish to the insolence of the -statement, that he had continued to avail himself of their -hospitality, while intending to requite it with opposition. He merely -said, however, "The fault is not mine, Mrs. Creswell, as I have before -said; immediately on the announcement of the contest, and of Mr. -Creswell's coming forward as the Conservative candidate, I went -straight to him and told him I was not a free agent in the matter. I -labour under the misfortune--and it is one for which I know I shall -receive no sympathy in this part of the country, for people, however -good-hearted they may be, cannot pity where they cannot understand--I -labour under the misfortune of coming of an old family, having had -people before me who for years and years have held to Liberal opinions -in fair weather and foul weather, now profiting by it, now losing most -confoundedly, but never veering a hair's breadth for an instant. In -those opinions I was brought up, and in those opinions I shall die; -they may be wrong, I don't say they are not; I've not much time, or -opportunity, or inclination, for the matter of that, for going very -deeply into the question. I've taken it for granted, on the strength -of the recommendation of wiser heads than mine; more than all, on the -fact of their being the family opinions, held by the family time out -of mind. I'm excessively sorry that in this instance those opinions -clash with those held by a gentleman who is so thoroughly deserving -of all respect as Mr. Creswell, and from whom I have received so -many proofs of friendship and kindness. Just now it is especially -provoking for me to be thrown into antagonism to him in any way, -because--however, that's neither here nor there. I dare say I shall -have to run counter to several of my friends hereabouts, but there is -no one the opposition to whom will concern me so much as Mr. Creswell. -However, as I've said before, it is a question of sticking to the -family principles, and in one sense to the family honour, and--so -there's nothing else to be done." - -Marian sat quietly for a minute, before she said, "Not having had the -honour of belonging to an old family so extensively stocked with -traditions, not even having married into one, I am perhaps scarcely -able to understand your position, Mr. Benthall. But it occurs to me -that 'progress' is a word which I have heard not unfrequently -mentioned in connection with the principles for the support of which -you seemed prepared to go to the stake, and it seems to me an -impossible word to be used by those who maintain a set of political -opinions simply because they received them from their ancestors." - -"Oh, of course it is not merely that! Of course I myself hold and -believe in them!" - -"Sufficiently to let that belief influence your actions at a rather -important period of your life? See here, Mr. Benthall; it happens to -be my wish, my very strong wish, that my husband should be returned -for Brocksopp at this election. I do not hide from myself that his -return is by no means certain, that it is necessary that every vote -should be secured. Now, there are certain farmers, holding land in -connection with the charity under which the school was founded--there -is no intended harm in my use of the word, for my father was paid out -of it as well as you, remember--farmers who, holding the charity land, -look to the master of the school, with an odd kind of loyalty, as -their head, and, in such matters as an election, would, I imagine, -come to him for advice how to act. Am I right?" - -"Perfectly right." - -"You know this by experience? They have been to you?" - -"Some of them waited on me at the schoolhouse - several days ago!" - -"And you made them pledge themselves to support Mr.--Mr. Joyce?" - -"No, Mrs. Creswell, I am a schoolmaster and a clergyman, _not_ an -electioneering agent. I explained to them to the best of my power the -views taken by each party on the great question of the day, and, when -asked a direct question as to how I should myself vote, I answered -it--that was all." - -"All, indeed! It is sufficient to show me that these unthinking people -will follow you to the polling-booth like sheep! However, to return to -what I was about to say when I thought of these farmers; is your -belief in your attachment to these principles so strong as to allow -them to influence your actions at what may be an important period of -your life? I know the Helmingham school-salary, Mr. Benthall; I know -the life--Heaven knows I ought, after all the years of its weariness -and its drudgery which I witnessed. You are scarcely in your proper -place, I think! I can picture you to myself in a pleasant rectory in a -southern or western county, with a charming wife by your side!" - -"A most delightful idea, Mrs. Creswell, but one impossible of -realisation in my case, I am afraid!" - -"By no means so impossible as you seem to imagine. I have only to say -one word to my husband, and----" - -"My dear Mrs. Creswell," said Mr. Benthall, rising, and laying his -hand lightly on her arm, "pray excuse my interrupting you; but I am -sure you don't know what you are saying or doing! Ladies have no idea -of this kind of thing; they don't understand it, and we cannot -explain. I can only say that if any man had--well, I should not have -hesitated a moment in knocking him down!" And Mr. Benthall, whose -manner was disturbed, whose voice trembled, and whose face was very -much flushed, was making rapidly to the door, when Marian called him -back. - -"I am sorry," she said, very calmly, "that our last interview should -have been so disagreeable. You will understand that, under present -circumstances, your visits here, and your acquaintance with any of the -inmates of this house, must cease." - -Mr. Benthall looked as though about to speak, but he merely bowed and -left the room. When the door closed behind him, Marian sank down into -her chair, and burst into a flood of bitter tears. It was the second -repulse she had met with that day, and she had not been accustomed to -repulses, of late. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. -AN INCOMPLETE VICTORY. - - -Mr. Benthall's neat cob was not standing in a loose box in the -Woolgreaves stable, as was its usual wont when its master had paid a -visit to that hospitable mansion. On this occasion the schoolmaster -had walked over from Helmingham, and, though by nature an indolent -man, Mr. Benthall was exceedingly pleased at the prospect of the walk -before him on emerging from Woolgreaves after his interview in the -library with Mrs. Creswell. He felt that he required a vent for the -excitement under which he was labouring, a vent which could only be -found in sharp and prolonged exercise. The truth was that he was very -much excited and very angry indeed. "It is a very charitable way of -looking at it--a more than charitable way," he muttered to himself as -he strode over the ground, "to fancy that Mrs. Creswell was ignorant -of what she was doing; did not know that she was offering me a bribe -to vote for her husband, and to influence the farmers on this estate -to do the same. She knew it well enough; she is by far too clever a -woman not to understand all about it. And if she would try that game -on with us, who hold a comparatively superior position, what won't she -do with those lower on the electoral roll? Clever woman too, thorough -woman of the world. I wonder at her forgetting herself, and showing -her hand so completely. How admirably she emphasised the 'any of the -inmates' in that sentence when she gave me my congé! it was really -remarkably well done! When I tell Gertrude this, it will show her the -real facts at once. She has had a firm impression that, up to the -present time, 'madam,' as she calls Mrs. Creswell, has had no idea as -to the state of the case between us; but I don't think even -incredulous Gertrude would have much doubt of it if she had been -present, and caught the expression of Mrs. Creswell's face as she -forbade my communication with 'any' of the inmates of her house. -Neither look nor tone admitted of the smallest ambiguity, and I took -care to appreciate both. Something must be done to circumvent our -young friend the hostess of Woolgreaves." - -Thus soliloquised the Reverend George Benthall as he strode across the -bleak barren fields, chopping away with his stick at the thin naked -hedges as he passed them, pushing his hat back from his brow, and -uttering many sounds which were at least impatient, not to say -unclerical, as he progressed. After his dinner, feeling that this was -an exceptional kind of evening, and one which must be exceptionally -treated, he went down to his cellar, brought therefrom a bottle of -excellent Burgundy, lit up, his favourite pipe, placed his feet on the -fender, and prepared himself for a careful review of the occurrences -of the day. On the whole, he was satisfied. It may seem strange that a -man, indolent, uncaring about most things, and certainly desirous of -the opportunity for the acquisition of worldly goods, should have -refused the chance of such a position as Marian hinted he might aspire -to--a position which her own keen natural instinct and worldly -knowledge suggested to her as the very one which he would most -covet--but it must be remembered that Mr. Benthall was a man of birth -and family, bound to indorse the family politics in his own person, -and likely to shrink from the merest suggestion of a bribe as the -highest insult and, indignity that could possibly be offered him. One -of Marian's hints went home; when she told him that all acquaintance -between him and any member of the Woolgreaves household must cease, -the bolt penetrated. The easy attention which Mr. Benthall had just -paid to the rather odd, but decidedly amusing, niece of rich Squire -Creswell had developed into a great liking, which had grown into a -passion deeper and stronger than this calm, placid--well, not to -disguise the fact, selfish--clergyman had ever imagined he could have -experienced; and although in his homeward walk he was pleased to smile -in his complimentary fashion at Mrs. Creswell's skill in aiming the -arrow, when he turned the whole matter over in his mind after dinner, -he was compelled to allow that it was exceedingly unpleasant, and that -he did not see how affairs between himself and Gertrude were to be -carried out to a happy issue without bringing matters to a crisis. For -this crisis long-headed and calculating Mr. Benthall had been for some -time prepared--that is to say, he had long entertained the idea that -after a time Mrs. Creswell, getting tired of the alternations in the -state of armed neutrality or actual warfare, in one or other of which -she always lived with the young ladies, and feeling towards them as -Haman felt towards Mordecai, with the aggravation of their all being -women, would certainly do her best towards getting them removed from -Woolgreaves; and doing her best meant, when Mr. Creswell was the -person to be acted upon, the accomplishment of her designs. But Mr. -Benthall felt tolerably certain, from his knowledge of Mr. Creswell, -and the conversation in some degree bearing on the subject which they -had had together, that though the old gentleman would not be able to -withstand, nor indeed would for a moment attempt to fight against the -pressure which would be put upon him by his wife for the -accomplishment of her purpose, even though that preference were to the -disadvantage of his blood relations, that result once achieved, he -would do everything in his power to insure the girls' future comfort, -and would not abate one jot of the liberal pecuniary allowance which -he had always intended for them on the occasion of their marriage. It -was very comforting to Mr. Benthall, after due deliberation, to come -to this conclusion; for though he was very much attached to Gertrude -Creswell, and though of late he had begun to think she was so -indispensable to his future happiness that he could almost have -married her without any dowry, yet it was pleasant to think -that--well, that she would not only make him a charming wife, but -bring a very handsome increase to his income--when the storm arrived. - -The storm arrived sooner than Mr. Benthall anticipated: it must have -been brewing while he was seated with his feet on the fender, enjoying -that special bottle of Burgundy and that favourite pipe. As he sat at -his breakfast he received a note from Gertrude, which said, "There has -been the most terrible fuss here this evening! I don't know what you -and madam can have fought about during that dreadfully solemn -interview in the library to which she invited you, _but she is furious -against you!_ She and uncle were closeted together for nearly an hour -after he came in from Brocksopp; and when, they joined us in the -dining-room his eyes were quite red, and I'm sure he had been crying. -Poor old darling! isn't it a shame for that--never mind. After dinner, -just as we were about to run off as usual, madam said she wanted to -speak to us, and marched us off to the drawing-room. When we got there -she harangued us, and told us it was only right we should know that -you had behaved in a most treacherous and unfriendly manner towards -uncle, and that your conduct had been so base that she had been -compelled to forbid you the house. I was going to speak at this, but -Maude dashed in, and said she did not believe a word of it, and that -it was all madam's concoction, and that you were a gentleman, and I -don't know what--you understand, all sorts of nice things about you! -And then madam said you had thrown over uncle, to whom you owed such a -debt of gratitude--what for, goodness knows!--and were going to vote -for uncle's opponent, Mr. Joyce, who---- But then I dashed in, and I -said that, considering what people said about her and Mr. Joyce, and -the engagement that had existed between them, she ought not to say -anything against him. And Maude tried to stop me; but my blood was up, -and I would go on, and, I said all kinds of things; and madam grew -very pale, and said that, though she was disposed to make every -allowance for me, considering the infatuation I was labouring -under--that's what she said, infatuation I was labouring under--she -could not put up with being insulted in her own house, and she should -appeal to uncle. So she went away, and presently she and uncle came -back together, and he said he was deeply grieved and all that--poor -old dear, he looked awful--but he could not have his wife treated with -disrespect--disrespect, indeed!--and he thought that the best thing -that could be done would be for us to go away for a time, at least; -only for a time, the dear old man said, trying to look cheerful; for -if he succeeded in this election he and Mrs. Creswell would -necessarily be for several months in London, during which we could -come back to Woolgreaves; but for a time, and if we would only settle -where we would go, Parker, our maid, who is a most staid and -respectable person, would go with us, and all could be arranged. I -think Maude was going to fly out again; but a look at the dear old -man's woebegone face stopped her, and she was silent. So it's decided -we're to go somewhere out of this. But is it not an awful nuisance, -George? What shall we do? Where shall we go? It will be a relief to -get rid of madam for a time, and out of the reach of her eyes and her -tongue; but doesn't it seem very horrible altogether?" - -"Horrible altogether! It does, indeed, seem very horrible altogether," -said Mr. Benthall to himself, as he finished reading this epistle, and -laid it down on the breakfast-table before him. "What on earth is to -be done? This old man seems perfectly besotted, while this very -strong-minded young woman, his wife, has completely gleaned the brains -out of his head and the kindliness out of his heart. What can he be -thinking about, to imagine that these two girls are to take some -lodging and form some course for themselves? Why, the thing is -monstrous and impossible! They would have to live in seclusion; it -would be impossible for any man ever to call upon them; and oh, it -won't do at all, won't do at all! But what's to be done? I can't -interfere in the matter, and I know no one with whom I could consult. -Yes, by George! Joyce, our candidate, Mr. Joyce; he's a clear-headed -fellow, and one who, I should think, if Mrs. Covey's story be correct, -would not object to put a spoke in Mrs. Creswell's wheel. I'll go and -see him. Perhaps he can help me in this fix." - -No sooner said than done. The young gentlemen on the foundation and -the head-master's boarders had that morning to make shift with the -teaching of the ushers, while the neat cob was taken from his stable -at an unwonted hour, and cantered down to Brocksopp. Mr. Joyce was not -at his head-quarters, he was out canvassing; so the cob was put up, -and Mr. Benthall started on a search-expedition through the town. -After some little time he came up with the Liberal candidate, with -whom he had already struck up a pleasant acquaintance, and begged a -few minutes of his time. The request was granted. They adjourned to -Joyce's private sitting-room at the inn, and there Mr. Benthall laid -the whole story before him, showing in detail Marian's machinations -against the girls, and pointing out the final piece of strategy by -which she had induced her husband to give them the rout, and tell them -they could no longer be inmates of his house. Joyce was very much -astonished; for although the film had gradually been withdrawn from -his eyes since the day of the receipt of Marian's letter, he had no -idea of the depth of her degradation. That she could endeavour to win -him from the tournament now he stood a good chance of victory; that -she would even endeavour to bribe a man like Benthall, who was -sufficiently venal, Walter thought, who had his price, like most men, -but who had not been properly "got at," he could understand; but that -she could endeavour to attempt to wreak her vengeance on two -unoffending girls, simply because they were remotely connected with -one of the causes of her annoyance, was beyond his comprehension. He -saw, however, at once, that the young ladies were delicately situated; -and, partly from an innate feeling of gallantry, partly with a desire -to oblige Benthall, who had proved himself very loyal in the cause, -and not without a desire to thwart what was evidently a pet scheme -with Mrs. Creswell, he took up the question with alacrity. - -"You're quite right," he said, after a little consideration, "in -saying that it would be impossible that these two young ladies could -go away and live by themselves, or rather with their maid. I know -nothing of them, beyond seeing them a long time ago. I should not even -recognise them were we to meet now; but it is evident that by birth -and education they are ladies, and they must not be thrown on the -world, to rough it in the manner proposed by their weak uncle, at the -instigation of his charming wife. The question is, what is to be done -with them? Neither you nor I, even if we had the power and will, dare -offer them any hospitality, miserable bachelors as we are. The laws of -etiquette forbid that; and we should have Mrs. Grundy, egged on by -Mrs. Creswell, calling us over the coals, and bringing us to book very -speedily. It is clear that in their position the best thing for them -would be to be received by some lady relative of their own, or in -default of that, by some one whose name and character would be a -complete answer to anything which our friends Mrs. Grundy or Mrs. -Creswell might choose to say about them. Have they no such female -relations? No! I fear then that, for their own sakes, the best thing -we can do is not to interfere in the matter. It is very hard for you, -I can see clearly, as you will be undoubtedly deterred from paying any -visits to Miss Gertrude until---- Stay, I've an idea: it's come upon -me so suddenly that it has almost taken my breath away, and I don't -know whether I dare attempt to carry it out. Wait, and let me think it -over." - -The idea that had occurred to Joyce was, to lay the state of affairs -before Lady Caroline Mansergh, and ask her advice and assistance in -the matter. He felt certain that she would act with promptitude, and -at the same time with great discretion. Her knowledge of the world -would tell her exactly what was best to be done under the -circumstances; while the high position which she held in society, and -that not alone by reason of her rank, would effectually silence any -malicious whisperings and ethical comments which would inevitably be -made on the proceedings of a less-favoured personage. The question -was, dare he ask her to interfere in the matter? He had no claim on -her, he knew; but she had always shown him such great favour, that he -thought he might urge his request without offence. Even in the last -letter which he had received from her, just before he started on his -election campaign, she reminded him of his promise to allow her to be -of service to him in any possible way, said never to permit any idea -of the magnitude or difficulty of the task to be undertaken to -influence him against asking her to do it. Yes, he felt sure that Lady -Caroline would be of material assistance to him in this emergency; the -only question was, was he not wasting his resources? These young -ladies were nothing to him; to him it was a matter of no moment -whether they remained at Woolgreaves or were hunted out to genteel -lodgings. Stay, though. To get rid of them from their uncle's house, -to remove them from her presence, in which they were constantly -reminding her of bygone times, had, according to Mr. Benthall's story, -been Marian Creswell's fixed intention from the moment of her -marriage. Were they to leave now, outcast and humbled, she would have -gained a perfect victory; whereas if they were received under the -chaperonage of a person in the position of Lady Caroline Mansergh, it -would be anything but a degradation of station for the young ladies, -and a decided blow for Mrs. Creswell. That thought decided him; he -would invoke Lady Caroline's aid at once. - -"Well," said he, after a few minutes' pause, when he had come to this -determination, "you have waited, and I have thought it over----" - -"And the result is----?" asked Mr. Benthall. - -"That I shall be bold, and act upon the idea which has just occurred -to me, and which is briefly this: There is in London a lady of rank -and social position, who is good enough to be my friend, and who, I -feel certain, will, if I ask her to do so, interest herself in the -fortunes of these two young ladies, and advise us what is best to be -done for them under present circumstances. It is plain that after what -has occurred they can stay no longer at Woolgreaves." - -"Perfectly plain. Maude would not listen to such a thing for a moment, -and Gertrude always thinks with her sister." - -"That's plucky in Miss Maude; and pluck is not a bad quality to be -possessed of when you are thrown out into the world on your own -resources, as some of us know from experience. Then they must leave as -soon as possible. Lady Caroline Mansergh, the lady of whom I have just -spoken, will doubtless be able to suggest some place where they can be -received, and where they would have the advantage of her occasional -surveillance." - -"Nothing could possibly be better," cried Mr. Benthall, in great glee. -"I cannot tell you, Mr. Joyce, how much I am obliged to you for your -disinterested co-operation in this matter." - -"Perhaps my co-operation is not so disinterested as you imagine," said -Joyce, with a grave smile. "Perhaps--but that's nothing now." - -"Will you write to Lady Caroline Mansergh at once? Time presses, you -know." - -"Better than that, I will go up to London and see her. There will -necessarily be a lull in the canvassing here for the next two or three -days, and I shall be able to explain far more clearly than by letter. -Besides, I shall take the opportunity of seeing our friends Potter and -Fyfe, and hearing the best news from head-quarters." - -"That is merely an excuse," said Mr. Benthall; "I am sure you are -undertaking this journey solely with the view of serving these young -ladies and me." - -"And myself, my good friend," replied Joyce; "and myself, I assure -you." - - -Lady Caroline Mansergh had a very charming little house in -Chesterfield Street, Mayfair, thoroughly homeish and remarkably -comfortable. Since she had been left a widow she had frequently passed -the winter, as well as the season, in London, and her residence was -accordingly arranged with a due regard to the miseries of our -delightful climate. Her ladyship was in town, Joyce was glad to find; -and after he had sent up his name, he was shown into a very cosy -drawing-room, with a large fire blazing on the hearth, and all the -draughts carefully excluded by means of portières and thick hanging -curtains. He had merely time to notice that the room was eminently one -to be lived in, and not kept merely for show--one that was lived in, -moreover, as the sign of a woman's hand, everywhere recognisable, in -the management of the flowers and the books, in the work-basket and -the feminine writing arrangements, so different, somehow, from a man's -desk and its appurtenances, plainly showed--when the door opened, and -Lady Caroline entered the room. - -She was looking splendidly handsome. In all the work and worry of his -recent life, Joyce had lost all except a kind or general remembrance -of her face and figure, and he was almost betrayed into an exclamation -of astonishment as he saw her advancing towards him. There must have -been something of this feeling in the expression of his face, for Lady -Caroline's cheeks flushed for an instant, and the voice in which she -bade him welcome, and expressed her pleasure of seeing him, was rather -unsteady in its tone. - -"I imagined you were at Brocksopp," she said, after a minute; "indeed -I have some idea that quite recently I saw a report in the paper of -some speech of yours, as having been delivered there." - -"Perfectly correct: I only came up last night." - -"And how goes the great cause? No, seriously, how are you progressing; -what are the chances of success? You know how interested I am about -it!" - -"We are progressing admirably, and if we can only hold out as we are -doing, there is very little doubt of our triumph!" - -"And you will enter upon the career which I suggested to you, Mr. -Joyce, and you will work in it as you have worked in everything else -which you have undertaken, with zeal, energy, and success!" said Lady -Caroline, with flashing eyes. "But what has brought you to London at -this particular time?" - -"You, Lady Caroline!" - -"I?" and the flush again overspread her face. - -"You. I wanted your advice and assistance." - -"Ah! I recollect you said just now, 'if we could only hold out as we -are doing.' How foolish of me not at once to---- Mr. Joyce, you--you -want money to pursue this election, and you have shown your friendship -for me by----" - -"No, indeed, Lady Caroline, though there is no one in the world to -whom I would so gladly be under an obligation. No; this is a matter of -a very different kind;" and he briefly explained to her the state of -affairs at Woolgreaves, and the position of Maude and Gertrude -Creswell. - -After he had concluded there was a momentary pause, and then Lady -Caroline said, "And you do not know either of these young ladies, Mr. -Joyce?" - -"I do not. I have scarcely seen them since they were children." - -"And it is for the sake of revenge on her that he is taking all this -trouble!" thought Lady Caroline to herself; "that woman threw away a -priceless treasure; the man who can hate like this must have a great -capacity for loving." Then she said aloud, "I am very glad you came to -me, Mr. Joyce, as this is plainly a case where prompt action is -needed. When do you return to Brocksopp?" - -"To-night." - -"Will you be the bearer of a note from me to Miss Creswell? I shall be -delighted to have her and her sister here, in this house, as my -guests, as long as it may suit them to remain." - -"Lady Caroline, how can I thank you?" - -"By asking me to do some service for you yourself, Mr. Joyce. This is -merely general philanthropy." - - -Marian Creswell was in great exultation, for several reasons. Mr. -Joyce had hurried suddenly to London, and a report had been started -that he was about to abandon the contest. That was one cause for her -delight. Another was that the girls had evidently accepted their -defeat in the last contest as final, and she should be rid of them for -ever. She had noticed various preparations for departure, and had seen -heavy boxes lumbering the passages near their rooms, but had carefully -avoided making any inquiries, and had begged her husband to do -likewise. - -"They will go," she said, "and it will be for the best. Either they or -I must have gone, and I suppose you would prefer it should be they. It -is their duty to say where they purpose going, and what they purpose -doing. It will be time enough for you to refuse your consent, if the -place of selection be an objectionable one, when they tell us where it -is." - -Two days after that conversation Mr. and Mrs. Creswell were sitting -together after luncheon, when Maude entered the room. She took no -notice of Marian, but said to her uncle, "Gertrude and I are going -away to-morrow, uncle, for some time, if not for ever. You won't be -astonished to hear it, I know, but it is our duty to tell you." - -"Well, Maude, I--going away--I confess, not entirely news to me," said -Mr. Creswell, hopelessly feeble; "where are you going, child?" - -"We have accepted an invitation we have received, uncle." - -"An invitation? I did not know you knew any one, Maude. From some of -your old school companions?" - -"No, uncle; from Lady Caroline Mansergh--a friend of Mr. Benthall's -and Mr. Joyce's, uncle." - -Marian looked up, and the light of triumph faded out of her eyes. It -was but an incomplete victory, after all! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. -THE SHATTERING OF THE IDOL. - - -The fact that his nieces had actually left the shelter of his roof, -although, as he had hitherto believed, that result had been brought -about by their own wilfulness and impatience of control, came upon Mr. -Creswell with almost stunning force. True, Marian had mentioned to him -that it was impossible that she and the girls could ever live together -in amity--true, that he himself had on more than one occasion been -witness of painful scenes between them--true, that the girls' -departure had been talked of for a week past as an expected event, and -that the preparations for it lay before his eyes; but he had not -realised the fact; his mind was so taken up with the excitement of the -coming election contest, that he had scarcely noticed the luggage -through which he had occasionally to thread his way, or, if he had -noticed it, had regarded its presence there as merely a piece of -self-assertion on the part of impetuous Maude or silly Gertrude, -determined to show, foolish children as they were, that they were not -to be put down by Marian's threats, but were ready to start -independently whenever such a step might become necessary. That Marian -would ever allow them to take this step, Mr. Creswell never imagined; -he thought there had always been smouldering embers of warfare, -needing but a touch to burst into a blaze, between his wife and his -nieces; he knew that they had never "hit it," as he phrased it; but -his opinion of Marian was so high, and his trust in her so great, that -he could not believe she would be sufficiently affected by these -"women's tiffs" as to visit them with such disproportionate -punishment. Even in the moment of adieu, when Gertrude, making no -attempt to hide her tears, had sobbingly kissed him and clung about -his neck, and Maude, less demonstrative, but not less affectionate, -had prayed God bless him in a broken voice--she passed Mrs. Creswell -with a grave bow, taking no notice of Marian's extended hand--the old -man could scarcely comprehend what was taking place, but looked across -to his wife, hoping she would relent, and with a few affectionate -words wished the girls a pleasant visit to London, but bid them come -back soon to their home. - -But Marian never moved a muscle, standing there, calm and statuesque, -until the door had closed upon them and the carriage had rolled away; -and then the first sound that issued from her lips was a sigh of -relief that, so far, her determination had been fulfilled without much -overt opposition; and without any "scene." Not that she was by any -means satisfied with what she had done; she had accomplished so -much of her purpose as consisted in removing the girls from their -uncle's home, but instead of their being reduced in social position -thereby--which, judging other people, as she always did, by her own -standard, she imagined would be the greatest evil she could inflict -upon them--she found her plans had been attended with an exactly -opposite result. The entrance into society, which she had so long -coveted, and which she had hoped to gain by her husband's election, -not merely now seemed dim and remote, owing to the strong possibility -of Mr. Creswell's failure, but would now be open to Maude and -Gertrude, through the introduction of this Lady Caroline Mansergh, of -whose high standing, even amongst her equals, Marian had heard -frequently from Mr. Gould, her one link with the great world. This -was a bitter blow; but it was even worse to think that this -introduction had been obtained for the girls through the medium of -Walter Joyce--the man she had despised and rejected on account of his -poverty and social insignificance, and who now not merely enjoyed -himself, but had apparently the power of dispensing to others, -benefits for which she sighed in vain. Now, for the first time, she -began to appreciate the estimation in which Walter was held by those -whose esteem was worth having. Hitherto she had only thought that the -talent for "writing" which he had unexpectedly developed had made him -useful to a political party, who, availing themselves of his services -in a time of need, gave him the chance Of establishing himself in -life; but so far as position was concerned, he seemed to have already -had, and already to have availed himself of, that chance; for here was -the sister of an earl, a woman of rank and acknowledged position, -eager to show her delight in doing him service! "And that position," -said Marian to herself, "I might have shared with him! Marriage with -me would not have sapped his brain or lessened any of those wonderful -qualities which have won him such renown. To such a man a career is -always open, and a career means not merely sufficient wealth, but -distinction and fame. And I rejected him--for what?" - -These reflections and others of similar import formed a constant -subject for Marian's mental exercitation, and invariably left her a -prey to discontent and something very like remorse. The glamour of -money-possession had faded away; she had grown accustomed to all it -had brought her, and was keenly alive to what it had not brought her, -and, what she had expected of it--pleasant society, agreeable friends, -elevated position. In her own heart she felt herself undervaluing the -power of great riches, and thinking how much better was it to have a -modest competence sufficient for one's wants, sufficient to keep one -from exposure to the shifts and pinches of such poverty as she had -known in her early life, when combined with a position in life which -gave one the chance of holding one's own amongst agreeable people, -rather than to be the Croesus gaped at by wondering yokels, or capped -to by favour-seeking tenants. A few months before, such thoughts would -have been esteemed almost blasphemous by Marian; but she held them -now, and felt half inclined to resent on her husband his ignorant and -passive share in the arrangement which had substituted him for Walter -Joyce. - -That was the worst of all. After Maude and Gertrude Creswell left -Woolgreaves, an unseen but constantly present inmate was added to -the household, who sat between husband and wife, and whispered into -their ears alternately. His name was Doubt, and to Mr. Creswell he -said--"What has become of all those fine resolutions which you made on -your brother Tom's death?--resolutions about taking his children under -your roof, and never losing sight of them until they left as happy -brides? Where are they now? Those resolutions have been broken, have -they not? The girls, Tom's daughters--orphan daughters, mind--have -been sent away from what you had taught them to look upon as their -home--sent away on some trivial excuse of temper--and where are -they now? You don't know!--you, the uncle, the self-constituted -guardian--positively don't know where they are! You have had the -address given you, of course, but you cannot imagine the place, for -you have never seen it; you cannot picture to yourself the lady with -whom they are said to be staying, for you never saw her, and, until -your wife explained who she was, you had scarcely even heard of her. -Your wife! Ah! that is a pleasant subject! You've found her all that -you expected, have you not? So clever, clear-headed, bright, and, -withal, so docile and obedient? Yet she it was who quarrelled with -your nieces, and told you that either she or they must leave your -house. She it was who saw them depart with delight, and who never -bated one jot of her satisfaction when she noticed, as she cannot have -failed to notice, your emotion and regret. Look back into the past, -man--think of the woman who was your trusted helpmate in the old days -of your poverty and struggle!--think of her big heart, her indomitable -courage, her loving womanly nature, beaming ever more brightly when -the dark shadows gathered round your lives!--think of her, man, -compare her with this one, and see the difference!" - -And to Marian the dim personage said--"You, a young woman, handsome, -clever, and with a lover who worshipped you, have bartered yourself -away to that old man sitting there--for what? A fine house, which no -one comes to see--carriages, in which you ride to a dull country -town to receive the bows of a dozen shopkeepers, and drive home -again--hawbuck servants, who talk against you as they talk against -every one, but always more maliciously against any whom they have -known in a different degree of life--and the title of the squire's -lady! You are calculated to enjoy life which you will never behold, -and to shine in society to which you will never be admitted. You -wanted money, and now you have it, and how much good has it done you? -Would it not have been better to have waited a little--just a -little--not to have been quite so eager to throw away the worshipping -lover, who has done so well, as it has turned out, and who is in every -way but ill replaced by the old gentleman sitting there?" - -The promptings of the dim presence worked uncomfortably on both the -occupants of Woolgreaves, but they had the greatest effect on the old -gentleman sitting there. With the departure of the girls, and the -impossibility which attended his efforts to soften his wife's coldness -and do away with the vindictive feeling which she entertained towards -his nieces, Mr. Creswell seemed to enter on a new and totally -different sphere of existence. The bright earnest man of business -became doddering and vague, his cheery look was supplanted by a worn, -haggard, fixed regard; his step, which had been remarkably elastic and -vigorous for a man of his years, became feeble and slow, and he -constantly sat with his hand tightly pressed on his side, as though to -endeavour to ease some gnawing pain. A certain amount of coldness and -estrangement between him and Marian, which ensued immediately after -his nieces' departure, had increased so much as entirely to change the -ordinary current of their lives; the pleasant talk which he used to -originate, and which she would pursue with such brightness and -earnestness as to cause him the greatest delight, had dwindled down -into a few careless inquiries on her part, and meaningless replies -from him; and the evenings, which he had looked forward to with such -pleasure, were now passed in almost unbroken silence. - -One day Mr. Gould, the election agent, arrived from London at -Brocksopp, and, without going into the town, ordered the fly which he -engaged at the station to drive him straight to Woolgreaves. On his -arrival there he asked for Mrs. Creswell. The servant, who recognised -him and knew his business--what servant at houses which we are -in the habit of frequenting does not know our business and all about -us, and has his opinion, generally unfavourable, of us and our -affairs?--doubted whether he had heard aright, and replied that his -master had gone to Brocksopp, and would be found either at the mills -or at his committee-rooms. But Mr. Gould renewed his inquiry for Mrs. -Creswell, and was conducted by the wondering domestic to that lady's -boudoir. The London agent, always sparse of compliments, spoke on this -occasion with even more than usual brevity. - -"I came to see you to-day, Mrs. Creswell, and not your husband," said -he, "as I think you are more likely to comprehend my views, and to -offer me some advice." - -"Regarding the election, Mr. Gould?" - -"Regarding the election, of course. I want to put things in a clear -light to you, and, as you're a remarkably clear-headed woman--oh no, I -never flatter, I don't get time enough--you'll be able to turn 'em in -your mind, and think what's best to be done. I should have made the -communication to your husband six months ago, but he's grown nervous -and fidgety lately, and I'd sooner have the advantage of your clear -brain." - -"You are very good--do you think Mr. Creswell's looking ill?" - -"Well--I was going to say you mustn't be frightened, but that's not -likely--you're too strong-minded, Mrs. Creswell. The fact is, I do see -a great difference in the old--I mean Mr. Creswell--during the last -few weeks, and not only I, but the people too." - -"You mean some of the electors?" - -"Yes, some of his own people, good staunch friends. They say they -can't get anything out of him now, can't pin him to a question. He -used to be clear and straightforward, and now he wanders away into -something else, and sits mumchance, and doesn't answer any questions -at all." - -"And you have come to consult me about this?" - -"I've come to say to you that this won't do at all. He is pledged to -go -to the poll, and he must go, cheerily and pleasantly, though there is -no doubt about it that we shall get an awful thrashing." - -"You think so?" - -"I'm sure so. We were doing very well at first, and Mr. Creswell is -very much respected and all that, and he would have beat that young -What's-his-name--Bokenham--without very much trouble. But this Joyce -is a horse of a different colour. Directly he started the current -seemed to turn. He's a good-looking fellow, and they like that; and a -self-made man, and they like that; and he speaks capitally, tells -'em facts which they can understand, and they like that. He -has done capitally from the first; and now they've got up some -story--Harrington did that, I fancy, young Harrington acting for -Potter and Fyfe, very clever fellow--they've got up some story that -Joyce was jilted some time ago by the girl he was engaged to, who -threw him over because he was poor, or something of that sort, I can't -recollect the details--and that has been a splendid card with the -women; they are insisting on their husbands' voting for him; so that -altogether we're in a bad way." - -"Do you think Mr. Creswell will be defeated, Mr. Gould? You'll tell me -honestly, of course." - -"It's impossible to say until the day, quite impossible, my dear Mrs. -Creswell; but I'm bound to confess it looks horribly like it. By what -I understand from Mr. Croke, who wrote to me the other day, Mr. -Creswell has given up attending public meetings, and that kind of -thing, and that's foolish, very foolish." - -"His health has been anything but good lately, and----" - -"I know; and of course his spirits have been down also. But he must -keep them up, and he must go to the poll, even if he's beaten." - -"And the chances of that are, you think, strong?" - -"Are, I fear, very strong! However, something might yet be done if he -were to do a little house-to-house canvassing in his old bright -spirits. But in any case, Mrs. Creswell, he must stick to his guns, -and we look to you to keep him there!" - -"I will do my best," said Marian, and the interview was at an end. - -As the door closed behind Mr. Gould, Marian flung herself into an -easy-chair, and the bitter tears of rage welled up into her eyes. So -it was destined that this man was to cross her path to her detriment -for the rest of her life. Oh, what terrible shame and humiliation to -think of him winning the victory from them, more especially after her -interview with him, and the avowal of her intense desire to be -successful in the matter! There could be no doubt about the result. -Mr. Gould was understood, she had heard, to be in general inclined to -take a hopeful view of affairs; but his verdict on the probable issue -of the Brocksopp election was unmistakably dolorous. What a bitter -draught to swallow, what frightful mortification to undergo! What -could be done? It would be impolitic to tell Mr. Creswell of his -agent's fears; and even if he were told of them, he was just the man -who would more than ever insist on fighting until the very last, and -would not imagine that there was any disgrace in being beaten after -gallant combat by an honourable antagonist. And there was no possible -way out of it, unless--great Heaven, what a horrible thought!--unless -he were to die. That would settle it; there would be no defeat for him -then, and she would be left free, rich, and with the power to---- She -must not think of anything so dreadful. The noise of wheels on the -gravel, the carriage at the door, and her husband descending. How -wearily he drags his limbs down the steps, what lassitude there is in -every action, and how wan his cheeks are! He is going towards the -drawing-room on the ground-floor, and she hastens to meet him there. - -"What is the matter? Are you ill?" - -"Very--very ill; but pleased to see you, to get back home." This with -a touch of the old manner, and in the old voice. "Very ill, Marian; -weak, and down, and depressed. I can't stand it, Marian; I feel I -can't." - -"What is it that seems too much for you?" - -"All this worry and annoyance, this daily contact with all these -horrible people. I must give it up, Marian; I must give it up!" - -"You must give what up, dear?" - -"This election. All the worry of it, the preliminary worry, has been -nigh to kill me, and I must have no more of it!" - -"Well, but think----" - -"I have thought, and I'm determined; that is, if you think so too. -I'll give it up, I'll retire; anything to have done with it!" - -"But what will people say----?" - -"What people, who have a right to say anything?" - -"Your committee, I mean--those who have been working for you so -earnestly and so long." - -"I don't care what they say. My health is more important than anything -else--and you ought to think so, Marian!" - -He spoke with a nervous irritability such as she had never previously -noticed in him, and looked askance at her from under his gray -eyebrows. He began to think that there might be some foundation of -truth in Gertrude's out-blurted sentiment, that Mrs. Creswell thought -of nothing in comparison with her own self-interest. Certainly her -conduct now seemed to give colour to the assertion, for Marian seemed -annoyed at the idea of his withdrawal from seeking a position by which -she would be benefited, even where his health was concerned. - -Mr. Creswell was mistaken. Marian, in her inmost heart, had hailed -this determination of her husband's with the greatest delight, seeing -in it, if it were carried out, an excellent opportunity for escaping -the ignominy of a defeat by Walter Joyce. But after this one -conversation, which she brought to a close by hinting that of course -his wishes should be acted upon, but it would perhaps be better to -leave things as they were, and not come to any definite conclusion for -the present, she did not allude to the subject, but occupied her whole -time in attending to her husband, who needed all her care. Mr. -Creswell was indeed very far from well. He went into town -occasionally, and, at Marian's earnest request, still busied himself a -little about the affairs a the election, but in a very spiritless -manner; and when he came home he would go straight to the library, and -there, ensconced in an easy-chair, sit for hours staring vacantly -before him, the shadow of his former self. At times, too, Marian would -find his eyes fixed on her, watching all her motions, following her -about the room, not with the lingering loving looks of old, but with -an odd furtive glance; and there was a pitiful expression about his -mouth, too, at those times, which was not pleasant to behold. Marian -wondered what her husband was thinking of. It was a good thing that -she did not know; for as he looked at her---and his heart did not -refuse to acknowledge the prettiness, and the grace, and the dignity -which his eyes rested on--the old man was wondering within himself -what could have induced him, at his time of life, to marry again--what -could have induced her, seemingly all sweetness and kindness, to take -an inveterate hatred to those two poor girls, Maude and Gertrude, who -had been turned out of the house, forced to leave the home which they -had every right to consider theirs, and he had been too weak, too much -infatuated with Marian, to prevent the execution of her plans. But -that should not be. He was ill then, but he would soon be better, and -so soon as he found himself a little stronger he would assume his -proper position, and have the girls back again. He had been giving way -too much recently, and must assert himself. He was glad now he had -said nothing about giving up the election to any one save Marian, as -he should certainly go on with it--it would be a little healthy -excitement to him; he had suffered himself to fall into very dull -moping ways, but he would soon be all right. If he could only get rid -of that odd numbing pain in the left arm, he should soon be all right. - - -Little Dr. Osborne was in the habit of retiring to rest at an early -hour. In the old days, before his "girl" married, he liked to sit up -and hear her warble away at her piano, letting himself be gradually -lulled off to sleep by the music; and in later times, when his -fireside was lonely and when he was not expecting any special work, he -would frequently drive over to Woolgreaves, or to the Churchill's at -the Park, and play a rubber. But since he had quarrelled with Mrs. -Creswell, since her "most disrespectful treatment of him," as he -phrased it, he had never crossed the threshold at Woolgreaves, and the -people at the Park were away wintering in Italy, so that the little -doctor generally finished his modest tumbler of grog at half-past ten -and "turned in" soon after. He was a sound sleeper, his housekeeper -was deaf, and the maid, who slept up in the roof, never heard -anything, not even her own snoring, so that a late visitor had a bad -chance of making his presence known. A few nights after the events -just recorded, however, one of Mr. Creswell's grooms attached his -horse to the doctor's railings and gave himself up to performing on -the bell with such energy and determination, that after two minutes a -window opened and the doctor's voice was heard demanding, "Who's -there?" - -"Sam, from Woolgreaves, doctor, wi' a note." - -"From Woolgreaves!--a note! What's the matter?" - -"Squire's bad, had a fit, I heerd housekeeper say, and madam she have -wrote this note for you! Come down, doctor; it's marked 'mediate, -madam said. Do come down!" - -"Eh?--what--Woolgreaves--had a fit--Mrs. Creswell--I'm coming!" and -the window was shut, and in a few minutes Sam was shivering in the -hall, while the doctor read the note by the gaslight in his surgery. -"Hum!--'No doubt you'll be surprised'--should think so, indeed--'has -been long ill'--thought so when I saw him in the Corn Exchange on -Saturday--'just now had some kind of frightful seizure'--poor dear old -friend--'calls for you--insists on seeing you--for God's sake -come'--dear me, dear me!" And the doctor wiped his honest old eyes on -the back of his tattered old dressing-gown, and poured out a glass of -brandy for Sam, and another for himself, and gave the groom the key of -the stable, and bade him harness the pony, for he should be ready in -five minutes. - -The house was all aroused, lights were gleaming in the windows, as the -doctor drove up the avenue, and Marian was standing in the hall when -he entered. She stepped forward to meet him, but there was something -in the old man's look which stopped her from putting out her hand as -she had intended, so they merely bowed gravely, and she led the way to -her husband's room, where she left him. - -Half an hour elapsed before Dr. Osborne reappeared. His face was very -grave and his eyes were red. This time it was he who made the advance. -A year ago he would have put his arm round Marian's neck and kissed -her on the forehead. Those days were past, but he took her hand, and -in reply to her hurried question, "What do you think of him?" said, "I -think, Mrs. Creswell, that my old friend is very ill. It would be -useless to disguise it--very ill indeed. His life is an important one, -and you may think it necessary to have another opinion"--this a little -pompously said, and met with a gesture of dissent from Marian--"but in -mine, no time must be lost in removing him, I should say, abroad, far -away from any chance of fatigue or excitement." - -"But, Dr. Osborne--the--the election!" - -"To go through the election, Mrs. Creswell, would kill him at once! He -would never survive the nomination day!" - -"It will be a dreadful blow to him," said Marian. But she thought to -herself, "Here is the chance of our escape from the humiliation of -defeat by Walter Joyce! A means of evoking sympathy instead of -contempt!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. -TOO LATE. - - -Dr. Osborne's opinion of Mr. Creswell's serious state, and the -absolute necessity for the old gentleman's immediate withdrawal from -everything calculated to cause worry or excitement, consequently from -the election, was soon promulgated through Brocksopp, and caused the -greatest consternation amongst the supporters of the Tory policy. Mr. -Teesdale was summoned at once to Woolgreaves, and there had a long -interview with Mrs. Creswell, who convinced him--he had been somewhat -incredulous at first, being a wary man of the world, and holding the -principle that doubt and disbelief were on the whole the safest and -most remunerative doctrines--that it was physically impossible for her -husband to continue the contest. The interview took place in the -large, carpeted, and furnished bow-window recess on the landing -immediately outside the door of Mr. Creswell's room, and, as Mr. -Teesdale afterwards remarked in conversation with Mr. Gould, whom he -summoned by telegraph from London, there was no question of any -malingering or shamming on the old gentleman's part, as he could be -heard groaning, poor old boy, in a very lamentable manner, and Dr. -Osborne, who called at the time, said his patient was by no means out -of the wood yet. Mr. Teesdale's talk, professional as it was, was -tinged with more sympathy and respect for the sufferer than were Mr. -Gould's remarks. Mr. Teesdale had other relations in business with Mr. -Creswell; he was his land agent and general business representative, -had known him intimately for years, and had experienced innumerable -kindnesses at his hands; whereas, Mr. Gould had simply made Mr. -Creswell's acquaintance in his capacity of Conservative candidates' -dry-nurse, and Mr. Creswell was to him merely an errant and peccant -ninepin, which, from fate or its own shortcomings, it was impossible -for him, skilful "setter-up" though he were, to put properly on end. -He saw this after five minutes' conversation with his local -representative, Mr. Teesdale, and saw that there was an end of his -chance, so far as Brocksopp was concerned. "It won't do here, -Teesdale," he said; "this finishes our business It hasn't looked very -promising throughout, but if this old character had gone to the poll, -and specially if he had said one or two things you could have crammed -him with on the nomination day, we might have pulled through! You see -he's so eminently respectable, and though he, of course, is not to be -compared with this young chap that Potter and Fyfe's people have got -hold of--and where they dug him up astonishes me! Newspaper office, -eh? 'Gad, we haven't got much of that sort of stuff in the newspaper -offices of our party-I'm not sure that we couldn't have got him in. -They'd have had the show of hands and the hurraying and all that; but -we know how much that's worth, and what with Sir George Neal's people -and our own, we could have run him deuced close, even if we didn't -win. Nuisance it is, too, for he's kept us from running anybody else. -There was young Clare, Sir Willis Clare's eldest son, was up in Pall -Mall the other day, ready to go in for anything, and with rather a -hankering for this place, which his father sat for once; but I said we -were booked, and now--confound it!" - -Mr. Teesdale was scarcely less upset. He talked vaguely of getting Mr. -Creswell's consent, so soon, as he was sufficiently recovered to be -able to entertain the topic, to the substitution of some good -Conservative candidate in his place; but Mr. Gould treated this -proposition with a scornful laugh, and told him that they would have -had to do all they knew to pull Mr. Creswell through, and that to -attempt to run anybody else at that late period would be madness. So a -private meeting of the principal supporters of the party was held at -the Lion, and Mr. Gould--who had run up to London in the interim, and -had an interview with the chief wire-pullers--announced that in -consequence of Mr. Creswell's unfortunate illness, it had been decided -to withdraw him from the candidature, and, as there was no prospect of -success for any one else who might be started in the same interest, to -refrain from contesting the borough at this election. This -announcement was received in dead silence, broken by Mr. Croke's frank -and outspoken denunciation of the cowardice, the "trem'lousness," the -"not to put too foin p'int upon it, the funk" which seemed to have -seized upon some as "owt t' knaw better." The meeting was held in the -evening, most of the company present had steaming glasses of grog -before them, and Mr. Croke's outspoken oratory elicited a vast amount -of applause and knocking on the tables with the stalwart feet of the -tumblers. A young farmer of the neighbourhood, popular from his -openhandedness and, his skill in rifle-shooting--he was champion -badge-holder in the local volunteers--rose and suggested that any such -abject surrender as that proposed was ill-advised and inexpedient, and -sat down, after finishing a long rambling speech, the purport of which -was that some one should be put forward to fill the gap created by Mr. -Creswell's lamented but unavoidable illness. That the gap should be -filled, seemed to be a popular idea; but each of the ten or twelve -speakers who subsequently addressed the meeting had different people -for the post: and it was not until Mr. Teesdale pointed out the utter -futility of attempting to begin the fight anew under a fresh banner, -confessing that they would have had very great difficulty in bringing -matters to a successful issue even with all the prestige of Mr. -Creswell's name and position, that it seemed to dawn upon the meeting -that their chance was hopeless. This had been told them at the outset -by Mr. Gould; but he was from London, and, consequently, in the ideas -of the farmers present, steeped in duplicity of every kind, and -labouring under an impossibility of truth-speaking. Mr. Teesdale had -infinitely more weight with his audience. They knew him as a man whose -word was to be relied on, and the impossibility of doing anything -beyond swallowing the bitter pill was acknowledged among them from -that moment. True, that the pill was so bitter as to require the -consumption of an extraordinary amount of brandy-and-water to get it -down, a fact which helped to console old Tilley, the landlord, for the -shock to his political principles. It is to be noted, also, that after -the withdrawal of Messrs. Gould and Teesdale, the meeting gave itself -up to harmony of a lugubrious character, and dismal ditties, mixed -with fierce denunciations of democrats and reformers, were borne away -on the still night air. - -So, within a day or two, the walls of Brocksopp were covered with -placards signed in Mr. Creswell's name, setting forth the sad cause -which prevented him from further exertion in the interests of freedom -and purity of election, lamenting the impossibility of being able -conscientiously to recommend a proper candidate to the constituency at -so short a notice, but bidding the electors not to despair so long as -there remained to them a House of Lords and an omniscient aristocracy. -This document, which was the production of Mr. Teesdale (Mr. Gould had -been called away to superintend certain other strongholds where the -fortifications showed signs of crumbling), was supplemented by the -copy of a medical certificate from Dr. Osborne, which stated that Mr. -Creswell's condition was such as to imperatively demand the utmost -quietude, and that any such excitement as that to be caused by -entering on an election contest would probably cost him his life. - -The news was already known at the enemy's headquarters. On the morning -after the meeting at the Lion, Mr. Harrington, who had been duly -informed of all that had taken place by a spy in whom he could place -implicit confidence, walked over to Shuttleworth, the nearest -telegraphic station, and thence despatched the following enigmatic -message to his firm: "Brocksopp Stakes. Old Horse broken down in -training. Our Colt will walk over." It happened that Mr. Potter was -alone when this telegram arrived, and to him it was utterly -unintelligible; but Mr. Fyfe, who came in shortly afterwards, and who -was acquainted with and tolerant of the vagaries of his clerk's -intellect, soon guessed at the situation, and explained it to his -partner. - -So it fell out that the election for Brocksopp, which had attracted -attention even amongst great people in the political world, and which -was looked forward to with intense interest in the neighbourhood, -passed off in the quietest and tamest manner. The mere fact of the -knowledge that there was to be no opposition, no contest, robbed the -nomination day of all its interest to hundreds of farmers in outlying -places, who did not care to give up a day's work when there was to be -no "scrimmage" as a requital for their sacrifice of time; and the -affair was consequently thoroughly orderly and commonplace. There were -comparatively few persons present, and five minutes after Joyce's -speech, in which he returned thanks for the honour done to him, and -alluded with much nice feeling to his late opponent's illness, had -concluded, the market-square was deserted, and the clumsy hustings -remained the sole memorial of the event to which so many had looked -forward for so long. - -Jack Byrne was horribly disgusted at the tame manner in which the -victory had been won. The old man's life had been passed in the arena: -he was never as happy as when he or some of his chosen friends were on -the verge of conflict; and to see the sponge thrown up when the boy -whom he had trained with so much care, and on whom he placed every -dependence, was about to meet with, a foeman worthy of his steel, who -would take an immense deal of beating, and whom it would be a signal -honour to vanquish, annoyed the old free lance beyond measure. It was -only by constantly repeating to himself that his boy, his Walter, whom -he had picked up starving and friendless at Bliffkins's coffee-house, -was now a member of Parliament, with the opportunity of uttering in -the British senate those doctrines which he had so often thundered -forth amidst the vociferous applause of the club, those opinions with -which he, old Jack Byrne, had indoctrinated him, that he was able to -perceive that, although without any grand blaze of triumph, a great -result had been achieved. Mr. Harrington, too, was by no means pleased -that all his jockeyship should have been thrown away on so tame an -event. He admitted as much to Mr. South, the local agent, who was -mildly rejoicing in the bloodless victory, and who was grateful for -the accident by which success had been secured. Mr. Harrington -entirely dissented from this view of the case. "I call it hard," he -said, "deuced hard, that when I had reduced the thing to a moral, when -I had made all arrangements for a waiting race, letting the other side -go ahead, as I knew they would, making the running like mad, and -getting pumped before the distance; we waiting on them quietly, and -then just at the last coming with a rush, and beating them on the -post,--I say it is deuced hard when a fellow has given all his time -and brains to arranging this; to find he's reduced to a mere w.o. To -be sure, as you say, one collars the stakes all the same, but still it -ain't sport!" - -There was one person, however, to whom the knowledge that the election -had gone off flatly was delightful--Marian Creswell. As she had stood -that night in her dressing-gown, with her dishevelled hair hanging -over her shoulders, listening to Dr. Osborne's verdict on her -husband's state, she had seen in his strongly pronounced opinion a -safe, plausible, and immediate chance of escape from that most dreaded -defeat by Walter Joyce at the election; and though she had apparently -received the decision with deepest regret, she was inwardly delighted. -At all events, there would be no absolute victory. Walter Joyce could -not go away and tell his friends in the great world in London that he -had defeated his adversary. No one could say what might have been the -issue of the contest had Mr. Creswell's health not given way; and -Marian was perfectly confident that Walter's chivalrous nature would -prevent his ever mentioning to any one the interview which had taken -place between him and her, or what passed thereat. On the whole, it -was the best thing that could have happened for her. She had for some -time foreseen that there was no chance of establishing herself in -society through the election as she had once hoped; and anything would -be better than that she should suffer defeat--absolute defeat--in a -matter which she had so nearly at heart. - -Anything? her husband's illness, dangerous illness, for instance? Yes, -anything. She had never pretended to herself that she had loved Mr. -Creswell. She had done her duty by him strictly, even to casting out -all thoughts, all remembrance, of the lover of her youth; and it is an -odd and not a very gratifying sign of the weakness of the human heart -to think that Marian had frequently taken credit to herself for the -sense of wifely duty which had induced her to eliminate all memories -of early days, and all recollections of Walter Joyce, from her mind. -Her husband was very much her senior; she could not have hoped that he -would live very long, and if he were to be removed---- There was, -however, no question of that at present. Within a few days of the -attack to which Dr. Osborne had been called, Mr. Creswell had -recovered consciousness, and gradually had so far mended as to be able -to take interest in what was passing round him. One of his first -expressed wishes was to see Mr. Benthall, and when that gentleman, who -was very much touched by the sight of the old man's altered -expression, and wandering eyes, and strange twitching face, was left -alone with him, he asked hurriedly, but earnestly, for news of the -girls, his nieces, and seemed much relieved when he heard they were -well and happy. To Marian her husband's manner was wonderfully -altered. He was kind always, occasionally affectionate, but he seemed -to have lost all that utter trust, that reliant worship, which had so -characterised his attentions to her in the early days of their -marriage. Of the election he spoke freely, expressing his sorrow for -the disappointment which his friends would suffer owing to his forced -defection, and his pleasure that, since a representative of opposite -politics must necessarily be chosen, the town would have the advantage -of returning a man with the high character which he had heard on all -sides ascribed to Mr. Joyce. When, on the evening of the nomination -day, Mr. Teesdale waited on his chief, and detailed to him all that -had taken place, dwelling on the mention which Joyce had made of his -absent opponent, and the high opinion which he had expressed of him, -the old gentleman was very much moved, and sank back on his pillows -perfectly overcome. Marian by no means appreciated Mr. Teesdale that -evening, and got rid of him as soon as possible. She was much pained -at the display of what she considered her husband's weakness, and -determined on following Dr. Osborne's advice as to removing him as -soon as he was able to travel. It was noted just at that time that -Mrs. Creswell spoke far more favourably of her husband's state of -health than she had done for some time previously, and betrayed an -unmistakable desire to get him away from Brocksopp neighbourhood and -influences without delay. - -When Dr. Osborne was consulted on the matter, he said that as the -election, which was the greatest risk of excitement for his patient, -had now passed by, it would depend greatly on Mr. Creswell's own -feelings and wishes as to whether he should leave his home. A change -would most probably be beneficial; but the doctor knew that his old -friend had always been wedded to his home, and had a great aversion to -being away from it when no absolute necessity for his absence existed. -However, Mr. Creswell, when appealed to, seemed to have lost any vivid -interest in this as in all other matters of his life. He answered, -mechanically, that he would do just as they thought best, that he had -no feeling one way or the other about it, only let them decide. He -said this in the wearied tone which had now become habitual to him; -and he looked at them with dim, lustreless eyes, out of which all -expression seemed to have faded. Dr. Osborne tried to rouse him, but -with such little success that he began to think Mr. Creswell's malady -must have made rapid progress; and he took an early opportunity of -submitting him to another examination. - -Marian was not aware of this. She met the doctor coming out of her -husband's room. They were on semi-friendly terms now, and she said to -him-- - -"I was coming to you, doctor, this afternoon. I have just settled to -take Mr. Creswell away for a few weeks, but of course I wanted you to -see him before he went. And now you have seen him?" - -"Yes; I have just left him." - -"And what do you say?" - -"I say that he must not be moved, Mrs. Creswell; that he must remain -here at home, with every comfort that he may require, and that he must -be carefully watched and tended by us all." - -"Do you find him changed--for the worse? I thought myself that I had -noticed during the last few days---- Do you apprehend any immediate -danger?" - -"He is very much changed for the worse; the disease has made great -progress, and if he were suddenly disturbed or excited I would not -answer for the consequences." - -"I did right, then, in refusing Mr. Teesdale access to him, yesterday. -There is some disputed election account, and Mr. Teesdale was most -urgent to see Mr. Creswell, but I thought it better to prevent him." - -"You aid perfectly right; he must be denied to everybody save those -immediately around him, and all matters of business and anything -likely to excite or worry him in the least must be studiously kept -from him." - -They were descending the stairs as the doctor spoke, and in the hall -they found Mr. Teesdale, who had just ridden up in hot haste, and was -parleying with one of the servants. He took off his hat when he saw -Mrs. Creswell and the doctor, and was about to speak, but Marian was -before him--"I hope you are not again wishing to see my husband, Mr. -Teesdale, as I shall be compelled again to refuse you! Dr. Osborne -here will tell you that I am acting in accordance with his strict -orders." And the doctor then repeated to the agent all that he had -just said to Marian. - -"It's an uncommonly vexatious thing," said Mr. Teesdale, when the -doctor had concluded: "of course it can't be helped, and whatever you -say must be attended to, but it's horribly annoying." - -"What is it?" asked Dr. Osborne. - -"A matter of Ramsay's, that truculent brute of a fellow who holds the -White Farm down Helmingham way. He's made a claim that I know the -chief wouldn't acknowledge, and that consequently I daren't pay; -though, knowing the fellow as I do, I'm not sure it wouldn't be safest -and best in the long run." - -"Wiry don't you act on your own responsibility, then?" - -"Not I The chief had a throw-up with this man before, and declared he -would never give in to him again. He's an ill-conditioned scoundrel, -and vows all kind of vengeance if he isn't paid." - -"My good friend," said the doctor, "you and I know pretty well that -Mr. Creswell is able to laugh at the threatened vengeance of a person -like this Mr. Ramsay. I must not have my patient disturbed for any -such matters. Carry on the business yourself, Teesdale. I know what -trust Mr. Creswell places in you, and I know how well it is deserved." - -"Then I shall tell Mr. Ramsay to go to----" - -"Exactly," said the doctor, interrupting. "You could not consign him -to more fitting company." - -On the evening of the second day from this colloquy, Marian returned -from a long drive in her pony carriage, during which her thoughts had -been of anything but a cheerful character. She had been suffering from -that horrible sinking of heart which comes sometimes, we know not why, -bringing with it the impression that something, we know not what, save -that it is unpleasant, is impending over us. When she alighted, she -inquired whether Mr. Creswell had rung for anything, and whether Dr. -Osborne had called, and received answers in the negative in both -cases. A letter marked "immediate" had come for master, that was all. -A letter! Where was it? Mr. Barlow, the butler, had taken it up to -master's room, the valet being out. Marian heard of the arrival of -this letter with a strange sense of fear, and hurried up to her -husband's room. - -She entered noiselessly and advanced quickly to the bed. Mr. Creswell -was lying back, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes closed, -his face very gray and rigid. She thought at first that he was dead, -and half screamed and called him by his name, but then, without -speaking, without looking, he unclasped his hands, pointed to a folded -paper on the coverlet, and then resumed his former position. The -letter! She took it up and read it eagerly. It was dated from the -White Farm, and signed John Ramsay. It commenced with setting forth -his claims to money which was due to him, and which he knew would have -been paid "had the squire been about," and it proceeded to revile Mr. -Teesdale, and to declare that he was robbing his employer, and -"feathering his own nest." The last paragraph ran thus-- - -"And you must be sharp and get about again, squire, and look to your -own. You are bamboozled and cheated in every way right under your -nose, in your own house, by your own wife. Why, it's common talk in -the town how you was done in the election by Mrs. C. She had young -Joyce for a sweetheart long before she knew you, when he was a school -usher, and gave him the sack and threw him over when she wanted you -and your money, which she always hankered after, and took on with him -again when she saw him down here, and got that old thief Osborne, -which overcharges the poor for his beastly drugs, to square it and -keep you out of the fun." - -As Marian read and re-read this paragraph she turned sick at heart and -thought she should have fainted, but was recalled to herself by a cold -clammy touch on her wrist, and looking down she saw her husband's eyes -open and his lips moving. Standing over him she heard him say--"Is it -true?" - -"True! how can you ask me such a question? I swear it is not." - -"No, no, not the last part of course but any of it? That young -man--was he fond of you--were you engaged?" - -A bright flush suffused her face, but she answered steadily, "We -were." - -"And what made you break with him? Why did you quarrel? You don't -answer. Is the letter right? Did you give him up for me? Did you let -my position, my money, weigh more with you than his love and his -heart? Did you do this?" - -"And suppose I did--what then?" said Marian, with flashing eyes--"are -you here to plead his cause? Have I not been a dutiful and a proper -wife to you? You yourself have just spoken of this vile slander with -the scorn it deserves Of what then do you complain?" - -"Of nothing. I complain of nothing, save perhaps of your ignorance of -me! Ah, good heavens did you know me so little as to think that your -happiness was not my aim, not so much my own? Did you not know that my -love for you was so little selfish, that if I had had the least dream -of your engagement to this young man, I should have taken such delight -in forwarding it and providing for you both? You would have been near -me still, you would have been a daughter to me, and---- Lift me up the -cordial--quick!" and he fell back in a faint. - -Dr. Osborne was sent for, and came at once, but it was plain to all -that Mr. Creswell's end was at hand. He had two severe paroxysms of -pain, and then lay perfectly still and tranquil. Marian was sitting by -his bedside, and in the middle of the night she felt his hand plucking -at the sleeve of her gown. She roused herself and looked at him. His -eyes were open, and there was a bright, happy expression on his thin -face. His mind was wandering far away, back to the early days of his -poverty and his struggles, and she who had shared both was with him. -He pulled Marian to him, and she leaned eagerly forward; but it -was not of her he was thinking. "Jenny!" he said, and his tongue -reverted to the old familiar dialect which it had not used for so many -years--"Jenny! coom away, lass! Taim's oop!--that's t' mill bell -ringin'! Thou'rt a brave lass, and we've had hard taim of it; but -we're near t' end now! Kiss me, Jenny! Always good and brave, -lass--always----" And so he died. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. -FOR ONCE GERTRUDE TAKES THE LEAD. - - -The lives of the two girls at Lady Caroline's were so completely -happy, that they were induced to doubt whether they had ever really -lived before. The difference between their rackety, disorderly, -Bohemian existence while their father was alive, the pinched and -poverty-stricken home which they shared with their mother until her -death, and the refined comforts and luxuries which awaited them at -their uncle's, was, of course, very great. But they were too young to -feel it at the time, and they had come to look upon Woolgreaves as -their home, and until Marian Ashurst entered upon it as its mistress, -as an epitome of everything that was charming. Lady Caroline's house -was much smaller than Woolgreaves; her income, probably, was nothing -like their uncle's; and yet about her house and her servants, her -carriage, and everything she had, there was a stamp of refinement and -of good taste, springing from high breeding, such as they had never -witnessed, even under Mrs. Creswell's _régime_; and whatever other -fault the girls found with Mrs. Creswell, they invariably allowed her -the possession of good taste. And Lady Caroline herself was so -different, so immeasurably superior to any woman they had ever seen. -With the exception of Lady Churchill, they had known no one save the -village people and the wives of the principal manufacturers at -Brocksopp, who had been daughters of other principal manufacturers at -Shuttleworth and Combcardingham, and might have been made in one -mould, or punched out of one piece; and Lady Churchill was a stupid -old woman in a brown front, who, as Gertrude knew, said "obleege," -and "apurn" for apron, and "know-ledge," and nearly drove you mad by -the way in which she stared at you, and rubbed her nose with a -knitting-needle, while you were attempting to find conversation for -her. But, in the girls' eyes, Lady Caroline was perfection; and it -would have been indeed odd had they not thought her so, as, for -reasons best known to herself, she went in more determinedly to make -herself agreeable to them than she had done to any one for some years -previous. - -One reason was that she liked the girls, and was agreeably -disappointed in them; had expected to find them provincial -_parvenues_, thrown upon her by their quarrel with a person of similar -position and disposition with themselves, and had found them quiet -lady-like young women, unpretentious, unobtrusive, and thoroughly -grateful to her for the home which she had offered them in their time -of need. From the step which she had taken so chivalrously Lady -Caroline never shrank, but she told the girls plainly, in the presence -of Mr. Joyce, that she thought it highly desirable that the fact of -their being there as her guests should be officially made known to Mr. -Creswell, to whom every consideration was due. As to Mrs. Creswell, -there was no necessity to acknowledge her in the matter; but Mr. -Creswell was not merely their nearest blood relation, but, until -adverse influences had been brought to bear upon him, he had proved -himself their most excellent friend; and even at the last, so far as -Lady Caroline could gather from Gertrude, had made some feeble kind of -fight against their leaving his house. Mr. Joyce and the girls -themselves were also of this opinion, Gertrude jumping at the prospect -of any reconciliation with "dear old uncle," but avowing her -determination to have nothing more to do with "that horrid madam;" and -it was on Maude's suggestion, backed by Walter, that the services of -Mr. Gould were employed for mediatory purposes. This was just before -the election, and Mr. Gould declared it was utterly impossible for him -to attend to anything that did not relate to blue and yellow topics; -but a little later he wrote a very kind letter, announcing Mr. -Creswell's illness, and deploring the strict necessity for keeping -from the old gentleman any subjects of an exciting nature. - -The corroboration of this bad news was brought to the little household -in Chesterfield Street by Mr. Benthall, who, about that time, ran up -to London for a week, and, it is needless to say, lost very little -time in presenting himself to Miss Gertrude. The relations between the -Helmingham schoolmaster and Gertrude Creswell were, of course, -perfectly well known to Lady Caroline through Walter Joyce, who had -explained to her ladyship that the causeless exclusion of Mr. Benthall -from Woolgreaves had been the means of bringing about the final -domestic catastrophe, and had led more immediately than anything else -to the departure of the young ladies from their uncle's house. So that -Lady Caroline was predisposed in the clergyman's favour, and the -predisposition was by no means decreased when she made his -acquaintance, and found him to be one of the Shropshire Benthalls, -people of excellent family (a fact which always has immense weight -with other people who can make the same boast), and essentially a man -of the world and of society. A girl like Gertrude Creswell, who, -charming though she was, was clearly nobody, might think herself lucky -in getting a man of family to marry her. Of course, Mrs. Creswell -could not understand that kind of thing, and took a mere pounds, -shillings, and pence view of the question; but Mrs. Creswell had no -real dominion over her husband's nieces, and as that husband was now -too ill to be appealed to, and the girls were staying under her -chaperonage, she should, in the exercise of her discretion, give Mr. -Benthall full opportunity for seeing as much of Gertrude as he chose. - -Lady Caroline did not come to this determination without consulting -Walter Joyce, and Walter did not express his opinion without -consulting Maude Creswell, of whose clear head and calm common sense -he had conceived a high opinion. The joint decision being favourable, -Mr. Benthall had a very happy holiday in London, finding, if such a -thing were possible, his regard for Gertrude increased by the scarcely -hidden admiration which the bright complexion, pretty hair, and trim -figure of the country girl evoked from the passers-by in the public -places to which he escorted her. Indeed, so completely changed by an -honest passion for an honest girl was this, at one time, selfish and -calculating man of the world, that he was most anxious to marry -Gertrude at once, without any question of settlement or reference to -her uncle, declaring that, however Mrs. Creswell might now choose to -sneer at it, the school income had maintained a gentleman and his wife -before, and could be made to do so again. - -Mr. Benthall spoke with such earnestness, that Joyce conceived a much -higher opinion of him than he had hitherto entertained, and would have -counselled Lady Caroline to lend her aid to the accomplishment of the -schoolmaster's wish, had it not been for Maude, who pointed out that -in such a case a reference was undoubtedly due to their uncle, no -matter what might be his supposed state of health. If he were really -too ill to have the matter submitted to him, and an answer--which, of -course, would be unfavourable--were to be received from Mrs. Creswell, -they might then act on their own responsibility, with the feeling that -they had done their duty towards the old gentleman, and without the -smallest care as to what his wife might say. - -This view of Maude's, expressed to Joyce with much diffidence, at once -convinced him of its soundness, and a little conversation with those -most interested showed them the wisdom of adopting it. - -Mr. Benthall wrote a straightforward manly letter to Mr. Creswell, -asking consent to his marriage with Gertrude. The day after its -despatch, Maude the impassible, who was reading the _Times_, gave a -suppressed shriek, and let the paper fall to the ground. Joyce, who -was sitting close by talking to Lady Caroline, picked it up, and read -in it the announcement of Mr. Creswell's death. - -Of course this news caused an indefinite postponement of the marriage. -The two girls grieved with deep and heartfelt sorrow for the loss of -the kind old man. All little differences of the past few months were -forgotten. Marian had no part in their thoughts, which were all of the -early days, when, two miserable little orphans, they were received at -Woolgreaves, at once put into the position of daughters of the house, -and where their every wish was studied and gratified. - -Gertrude's grief was especially violent, and she raved against the -hard fate which had separated them from their uncle at a time when -they would have so much wished to have been near him to minister to -and nurse him. - -Evidence soon came that Mr. Creswell's sense of what was honourable -and right had prevented him from allowing any recent events to -influence his intentions towards his nieces. In his will they were -mentioned as "my dearly loved Maude and Gertrude, daughters of my -deceased brother Thomas, who have been to me as my own daughters -during the greater part of their lives;" and to each of them was left -the sum of ten thousand pounds on their coming of age or marriage. -There were a few legacies to old servants and local charities, five -hundred pounds each to Dr. Osborne and Mr. Teesdale, his two -executors, and "all the rest of my property, real and personal, of -every kind whatsoever, to my beloved wife Marian." - -"And my beloved wife Marian will have about fifteen thousand a year, -as near as I can fix it," said Mr. Teesdale, as he left Woolgreaves, -after the reading of the will; "and if the railway people take that -twenty acres off that infernal Jack Ramsay's farm, about a couple of -thou' more!" - -It was not to be supposed that Mr. Benthall professed himself -indifferent to the splendid legacy which Gertrude had inherited. As he -had been willing and anxious to take her for herself, and to share -what he had with her, so he was very much pleased to find that their -future would be rendered considerably less anxious, and more -comfortable than they had anticipated, and in his honest open-hearted -way he did not scruple to say so. - -The death of their uncle did not make any difference in the course of -the girls' lives. They still remained with Lady Caroline, whose regard -for them seemed to increase daily; and it was understood that they -would continue to inhabit Chesterfield Street until Gertrude was -married, and that after that event Maude would frequently return -there, making it her London home, and visiting it whenever she was not -staying with her sister. So at least Lady Caroline proposed, and -begged Mr. Benthall to make the suggestion to Maude at the first -convenient opportunity. The opportunity occurred very shortly, and -arose from Maude's saying, when they were sitting together one -morning-- - -"I saw Mr. Joyce yesterday, George, and took occasion to ask his -advice on that matter." - -"And what might that matter be, Maude? There are so many matters of -importance on just now, that you must be more definite." - -"It is well Gertrude is not here to hear you! In your present -condition there should be only one matter of any importance to you, -and that of course is--" - -"Our marriage--to be sure! Well, you asked Joyce--what a wonderful -fellow he is, by the way; his parliamentary business does not seem the -least to have interfered with his writing, and with it all he seems to -find time to come up here two or three times a week." - -"He has the highest regard for Lady Caroline, and the greatest respect -for her judgment," said Maude. - -"Naturally, so have we all," said Mr. Benthall, with a gradually -spreading smile. - -"Yes; but Mr. Joyce consults her in--how ridiculous you are, George! -you're always saying stupid things and forgetting your subject. What -were we talking about?" - -"I like that; and you talk about forgetfulness! You were saying that -you had spoken to Mr. Joyce about my marriage, though why you should -have----" - -"Don't be tiresome, you know what I mean! He perfectly agrees with you -in thinking there is no necessity for postponing the marriage any -further. Poor uncle has now been dead three months, and you have no -necessity to consider whether Mrs. Creswell might think it too soon -after that event or not!" - -"We have no reason to be bound by what she would say, but I think it -would be only right in Gertrude to write and tell her that the wedding -is about to take place." - -"That you and Gertrude must settle between you. For my part, I should -not think of---- However, I confess my judgment is not to be relied on -when that person is in question." Then she added in a low voice, and -more as if speaking to herself, "How strange it will seem to be away -from Gerty!" - -Benthall heard the remark, and he took Maude's hand as he said, "But -you won't be away from her, dear Maude! We have all of us talked over -your future, and Gertrude and I hope you will make your home with us, -though Lady Caroline insists on claiming you for some portion of the -year." - -"You are all of you very good, George," said Maude; "you know how much -I should love to be with you and Gerty, and what gratitude and -affection I have for Lady Caroline. But I don't think the life you -have proposed would exactly suit me." - -"Not suit you, Maude?" cried Mr. Benthall in astonishment; "why, what -would you propose to do?" - -"I cannot say exactly, though I have some ideas about it which I can't -clearly express. You see I shall never be married, George--don't laugh -at me, please, I'm speaking quite seriously--and there is this large -sum of money which uncle left me, and which I don't think should be -either squandered away or left lying idle!" - -"Why, my dear, what on earth do you propose to do with the money?" -asked practical Mr. Benthall. - -"To put it to some good use, I hope; to use it and my own time and -services in doing good, in benefiting those who need it----" - -"You're not going to give it to the missionaries, or any rubbish of -that kind, I trust," interrupted Mr. Benthall. "Look here, Maude, -depend upon it---- Oh! here's her ladyship, don't say a word about it -before her. Good morning, Lady Caroline! This young lady and I have -been discussing the propriety of writing to Mrs. Creswell announcing -Gertrude's approaching marriage." - -"I don't think there can be a doubt as to the propriety of such a -course," said Lady Caroline. "Of course, whatever she might say about -it would not make the slightest difference to us." - -"Of course not." - -"But I don't think you need fear any disagreeables. Mrs. Creswell is -in a very different position now from that which she held when she -thought fit to behave badly to those young ladies, and their relations -with her are also quite altered. And by all accounts she is quite -sufficient woman of the world to understand and appreciate this." - -Lady Caroline was right. In reply to Gertrude's letter announcing her -marriage, came a most affectionate note from Marian to her "dearest -Gertrude," congratulating her most heartily; complimenting her on her -choice of a husband; delighting in the prospect of their living so -near to her; hoping to see much of them; regretting that her recent -bereavement prevented her being present at the ceremony, or having it -take place, as she should so much have wished, at Woolgreaves; and -begging permission to send the enclosed, as her contribution, to aid -in the setting up of the new household; and the enclosure was a cheque -for three hundred pounds. - -Mr. Benthall winced a little when he saw the cheque, and Mr. Joyce -gave a very grim smile when his friend informed him of the affair; but -advised Mr. Benthall to pocket the money, which Mr. Benthall did. As -has been said, he did not pretend to despise money; but he was -essentially a gentleman in his notions as to the acceptance of -favours. He had thought several times about that conversation with -Maude, in which she had mentioned the manner in which she had wished -to dispose of her fortune and her future. This had caused Mr. Benthall -some uneasiness; he had no hankering after his future sister-in-law's -fortune; there was nothing he would have liked so much as to see her -happily married; but he did not like the idea of the money being -foolishly invested in useless charity or gotten hold of by -pseudo-philanthropists. A conversation which he had with Gertrude a -few days before their marriage seemed, however, to do away with all -his fears, and render him perfectly easy in his mind on this point. A -short conversation which ended thus-- - -"And you're sure of it, Gerty?" - -"Positive! I've thought so a long time--now I'm sure! And you must be -a great goose, George, not to have noticed it yourself." - -"I am not a great goose, and I certainly had some suspicions at one -time; but---- Well, now, that would be highly satisfactory." - -"Do you think there is anything remaining from--from the other one, -George?" - -"From the other one? You mean from Mrs.---- Not the remotest thought -of her even." - -"Well, then, it rests with him entirely. Wouldn't it be nice for them -both?" - -"It would, indeed--and for us too. Well, we'll see what can be done." - -Enigmatical, but apparently satisfactory. - - -So George Benthall and Gertrude Creswell were married at St. James's -Church in Piccadilly, by the Reverend John Bontein, a High-Church -rector of a Worcestershire parish, and an old college chum of the -bridegroom's. A very quiet wedding, with Maude as the sole bridesmaid, -and Joyce as best man, and Lady Caroline, and, oddly enough, Lord -Hetherington, who had just come up to town from Westhope, and, calling -at his sister's, had learned what was going to take place, and thought -he should like to see it, don't you know? Had never been at any -wedding except his own, and didn't recollect much about that, except -that--curious thing, never should forget it--when he went into the -vestry to sign his name, or something of that kind, saw surplice -hanging up behind the door--thought it was ghost, or something of that -kind--give you his word! So the little earl arrived the next morning -at eleven at the church, and took his place in a pew near the altar, -and propped his ear up with his hand to listen to the marriage -service, at which he seemed to be much affected. When the ceremony was -over, he joined the party in the vestry, insisted on bestowing a -formal salute upon the bride--Lady Hetherington, he knew, was safely -moored at Westhope--and, as some recompense for the infliction, he -clasped on Gertrude's arm a very handsome bracelet, as his bridal -gift. No bells, no bishop, no fashionable journal's chronicler, -minutely noting down all that took place, and chronicling the names of -"distinguished persons present." Pew-opener and beadle hearing "my -lord" and "her ladyship" mentioned, seeing broughams, and cockades, -and other signs of aristocracy with which they are familiar, are -unable to reconcile the presence of these with absence of outward and -visible signs in which great ones of this earth delight; and conclude -either that it is a runaway match winked at by a portion only of the -family, or some such low affair as the union of the tutor with the -governess, kindly patronised by their employers. A happy wedding, -though--happier far than most which are made up in that same -temple--love-match founded on long knowledge of each other, not -hurried, not forced, not mercenary; no question of love in a -cottage either, and the flight of Amor through the window concurrently -with the entrance of the wicked man of the drama--one Turpis -Egestas--through the door. - -Such a marriage promised to prove a happy one. In its early days, of -course, everything was rose-coloured--those days when Maude went down -to stay with George and Gertrude at the school, and when, a little -later, Walter Joyce ran down for the Easter holidays to his old -quarters. He was glad of the chance of seeing them once again, he -said, and determined to avail himself of it; and then George Benthall -looked in his face and smiled knowingly. Walter returned the grin, and -added: "For it's a chance that may not happen to me again." And when -his friend looked rather blank at this, and asked him what he meant, -Joyce laughed again, and finally told him that Lord Hetherington had -just had a piece of patronage fall to his share--the rectory of -Newmanton-by-Perringden, a lovely place in the Isle of Wight, where -the stipend was not sufficiently great to allow a man with a large -family to live on it, but the exact place for a parson with a little -money of his own. And Lord Hetherington had inquired of Joyce whether -his friend, that remarkably pleasant fellow,--bless my soul, forget my -own name next! him we saw married, don't you know?--whether he was not -exactly the sort of fellow for this place, and would he like it? -Walter thought that he was and he would; and Lord Hetherington, -knowing Joyce was going down to see his friend, bid him inquire, and -if all were straight, assure Mr. Benthall that the living was his. - -And this was how Walter Joyce executed his commission, and this was -how George Benthall heard this most acceptable news. - -"By the way, what made you grin, Benthall, when I said I had come down -here for my holiday to look at my old quarters?" asked Walter. - -"Because I thought there might be yet another reason which you had not -stated. Anxiety to see some one here!" - -"Anxiety is the wrong word. Strong wish to see you and your wife -again, and----" - -"My wife and I are out of the affair! Come, confess!" - -"I give you my honour I don't know what you mean." - -"Likely enough; but I'm older than you, and, parson though I am, I -declare I think I've seen more of the world. Shall I tell you what -brought you down here? I shall!--then I will!--to see Maude Creswell." - -"Maude Creswell! What on earth should I--what--why--I mean--what, is -Miss Creswell gone?" - -"Simply the woman who thinks more about you than any other creature on -earth. Simply the girl who is raving--head over ears in love with you. -Don't pretend you don't know it. Natural instinct is too strong to -allow any doubt upon that point." - -"I swear you surprise me beyond belief! I swear that---- Do you mean -this, Benthall?" - -"As a gentleman and a Christian, I've told you what I believe; and as -a man of the world, I tell you what I think, whether wittingly or -unwittingly, you are very far gone in returning the young lady's -sentiments!" - -"I--that is--there's no doubt she is a girl of very superior mind, -and--by Jove, Benthall, you've given a most singular twist to my -holiday!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. -LADY CAROLINE ADVISES ON A DELICATE SUBJECT. - - -The communication which Mr. Benthall, in his bluff offhand manner, had -made to Walter Joyce, had surprised the latter very much and -embarrassed him not a little. Ever since the receipt of Marian -Ashurst's letter announcing her intention of marrying Mr. -Creswell--ever since the subsequent interview with Lady Caroline, in -which she counselled him to discharge the subject from his mind, to -encourage new hopes, and to cultivate aspirations of a different -kind--Joyce had lived absolutely free from any influence of "the cruel -madness of love, the poison of honey flowers, and all the measureless -ill." All his thoughts had been given up to labour and ambition, and, -with the exception of his deep-rooted and genuine regard for Lady -Caroline, and his friendly liking for the Creswell girls, he -entertained no feeling for any woman living, unless a suspicion of and -an aversion to Marian Creswell might be so taken into account. Had he -this special partiality for Maude Creswell, of which Benthall had -spoken so plainly? He set to work to catechise himself, to look back -through the events of the past few months, noting what he remembered -of their relations to each other. - -Yes, he had seen a great deal of Maude; he remembered very frequent -occasions on which they had been thrown together. He had not noticed -it at the time; it seemed to come naturally enough. Gertrude, of -course, was engaged with Benthall when he was in town--in writing to -him or thinking of him when he was away--and Lady Caroline had to -go through all the hard work which fell upon a great lady in -society--work the amount of which can only be appreciated by those who -have performed it or seen it performed. So that, as Joyce then -recollected, he and Maude had been thrown a great deal together, and, -as he further recollected, they had had a great many discussions on -topics very far removed from the mere ordinary frivolity of society -talk; and he had noticed that she seemed to have clear ideas which she -understood how to express. What an odd thing, that--what Benthall -said--had never struck him before! It must have been patent to other -people, though; and that put the matter, unpleasantly, in rather a -ridiculous light. After all, though, what was there ridiculous in it? -Maude was a very handsome girl, a clever girl, and an unmistakable -lady. What a pretty, slight, girlish figure she had!--such a graceful -outline!--her head was well posed upon her neck! And Joyce smiled as -he found himself drawing lines in the air with the paper-knife which -he had been idly tossing in his hand. - -And he had Benthall's assurance that the girl cared for him--that was -something. Benthall was a man careful in the extreme as to what he -said, and he would not have made such a statement where a girl was -concerned, and that girl his own sister-in-law, unless he was -tolerably certain of being right. His own sister-in-law; he had it -then, of course, from Gertrude, who was Maude's second self, and would -know all about it. It was satisfactory to know that there was a woman -in the world who cared for him, and though without the smallest -particle of vanity he accepted the belief very readily, for his -rejection by Marian Ashurst and the indignity which he had suffered at -her hands had by no means rendered him generally cynical or suspicious -of the sex. Marian Ashurst! what an age ago it seemed since the days -when the mention of that name would have sent the blood flowing in his -cheek, and his heart thumping audibly, and now here he was staying in -the old house where all the love scenes had taken place, walking round -the garden where all the soft words had been spoken, all the vows made -which she had thrown to the winds when the last parting, with what he -then and for so long afterwards thought its never-to-be-forgotten -agony, had occurred, and he had not felt one single extra -palpitation. Mrs. Creswell was staying away from Woolgreaves just -then, at some inland watering-place, for the benefit of her health, -which it was said had suffered somewhat from her constant attendance -on her husband, or Joyce might have met her. Such a meeting would not -have caused him an emotion. When he had encountered her in the lane, -during the canvassing time, there was yet lingering within his breast -a remembrance of the great wrong she had done him, and that was fanned -into additional fury by the nature of her request and the insolence -with which she made it. But all those feelings had died out now, and -were he then, he thought, to come across Marian Creswell's path, she -would be to him as the merest stranger, and no more. - -If he were to marry, he knew of no one more likely to suit him in all -ways than Maude. Pretty to look at, clever to talk to, sufficiently -accustomed to him and his ways of life, she would make him a far -better wife than nine-tenths of the young ladies he was accustomed to -meet in such little society as he could spare the time to cultivate. -Why should he marry at all? He answered the question almost as soon as -he asked it. His life wanted brightening, wanted refining, was at -present too narrow and confined; all his hopes, thoughts, and -aspirations were centred on himself. He was all wrong. There should be -some one who--the chambers were confoundedly dreary too, when he came -home to them from the office or the House; he should travel somewhere -abroad when the House rose, he thought, and it would be dull work -moving about by himself, and-- - -What pretty earnest eyes Maude had, and shining hair, and delicate -"bred"-looking hands! She certainly was wonderfully nice, and if, as -Benthall avowed, she really eared for him, he---- Who was this coming -to break in on his pleasant day-dream? Oh, Gertrude. - -"I was wondering where you were, Mr. Joyce! You said you wanted your -holiday, and you seem to be passing it in slumber!" - -"Nothing so commonplace, Mrs. Benthall." - -"One moment, why do you call me Mrs. Benthall? What has made you so -formal and ridiculous all of a sudden? You used to call me Gertrude, -in London?" - -"Yes, but then you were an unmarried girl; now you are a wedded woman, -and there's a certain amount of respect due to matronhood." - -"What nonsense! Do call me Gertrude again, please; Mrs. Benthall -sounds so horrid! I should like the boarders here in the house to call -me Gertrude, only George says it wouldn't be proper! And so you -weren't asleep?" - -"Not the least bit! Although I'm ready to allow I was dreaming." - -"Dreaming!--what about?" - -"About the old days which I spent in this place--and their -association!" - -"Oh yes, I know--I mean to say----" - -"No, no, Gertrude, say what you had on your lips, then! No -prevarication, and no hesitation--what was it?" - -"No, really, nothing--it is only----" - -"I insist!" - -"Well, what I mean to say is--of course, people will talk in a -village, you know--and we've heard about your engagement, you know, -and how it was broken off, and how badly you were treated, and--oh, -how silly I was to say a word about it! I'm sure George would be -horribly cross if he knew!" - -"And did you imagine I was grizzling over my past, cursing the day -when I first saw the faithless fair, and indulging in other poetic -rhapsodies! My dear Gertrude, it's not a pleasant thing being jilted; -but one lives to get over it and forget all about it, even to forgive -her whom I believe it is correct to call the false one!" - -"Yes, I dare say! In fact, George and Maude both said you didn't think -anything about it now, and----" - -"Maude! did she know of it too?" - -"Oh yes, we all knew of it! The old woman who had been housekeeper, -or cook, or something here in the old Ashurst's time, told George, -and----" - -"What did Maude say about it?" interrupted Joyce. - -"She said--I forget what! No! I recollect she said that--that Mrs. -Creswell was just the sort of woman that would fail to appreciate -you!" - -"That may be taken in two senses--as a compliment or otherwise," said -Joyce, laughing. - -"I'm sure Maude means it nicely," said Gertrude earnestly. Then added, -"By the way, I wanted to talk to you about Maude, Mr. Joyce." - -"About Maude!" said Walter. Then thought to himself, "Is it possible -that the seeds of match-making are already developing themselves in -this three months' old matron?" - -"Yes. I don't think George mentioned it to you, but he had a talk with -Maude, just before our marriage, about her future. George, of course, -told her that our house would be her home, her permanent home I mean; -and he gave her the kindest message from Lady Caroline, who bargained -that at least a portion of the year should be spent with her." - -"What did your sister say to that?" - -"Well, she was much obliged and all that; but she did not seem -inclined to settle down. She has some horrible notions about duty and -that sort of thing, and thinks her money has been given to her to do -good with; and George is afraid she would get what he calls 'let i' -by some of those dreadful hypocritical people, and we want you to talk -to her and reason her out of it." - -"I? Why I, my dear Gertrude?" - -"Because she believes in you so much more than in anybody else, and is -so much more likely to do what you advise her." - -"She pays me a great compliment," said Joyce, rising, "and I'll see -what's to be done. The first thing, I think, is to consult Lady -Caroline, who would be sure to give good advice. I shall see her -to-morrow, and I'll----" - -"See Lady Caroline to-morrow! I thought you were not going back till -Saturday?" - -"I've just thought of some special business about which I must see -Lady Caroline at once, and I'll mention this at the same time. Now, -let us find George. Come for a turn." - -They found George and went for their turn, and when their turn was -over, and Gertrude was alone with her husband, she told him the -conversation which she had had with Walter Joyce. The schoolmaster -laughed heartily. - -"'Pon my word, Gerty," he said, "match-making appears to be your -forte, born and bred in you! I never believed in the reality of those -old dowagers in Mrs. Trollope's novels, until I saw you." - -"Well, I declare, George, you are complimentary! old dowagers, indeed! -But, seriously, I wish Walter wasn't going to Lady Caroline!" - -"Why, what on earth has that to do with it?" - -"Well, I mean speaking in Maude's interest!" - -"Why, one would think that Lady Caroline was in love with Walter Joyce -herself!" - -"Exactly!" - -"Why--why--you don't think so, my dear?" - -"I'm sure so, my dear!" - -And, as response, the Reverend George Benthall whistled in a loud and -unclerical manner. - - -When Walter Joyce arrived in Chesterfield Street, he found Lady -Caroline was absent--passing the holidays with Lord and Lady -Hetherington at Westhope--and, after a little hesitation, he -determined to go down there and see her. He had not seen anything of -the Hetheringtons since his election: his lordship was occupied with -some new fad which kept him in the country, and her ladyship did not -care to come to town until after Easter. Lord Hetherington had viewed -the progress of his ex-secretary with great satisfaction. His -recollections of Joyce were all pleasant; the young man had done his -work carefully and cleverly, had always been gentlemanly and -unobtrusive, and had behaved deuced well--point of fact, deuced -well--brave, and all that kind of thing--in that matter of saving -Car'line on the ice. Her ladyship's feelings were very different. She -disliked self-made people more than any others, and those who were -reckoned clever were specially obnoxious to her. She had heard much, a -great deal too much, of Joyce from Mr. Gould, who, in his occasional -visits, delighted in dilating on his recent foeman's abilities, -eloquence, and pluck, partly because he respected such qualities -wherever he met with them, but principally because he knew that such -comments were very aggravating to Lady Hetherington (no great -favourite of his); and she was not more favourably disposed towards -him, because he had adopted political principles diametrically opposed -to those which she believed. But what actuated her most in her -ill-feeling towards Mr. Joyce was a fear that, now that he had -obtained -a certain position, he might aspire to Lady Caroline Mansergh, who, as -Lady Hetherington always suspected, would be by no means indisposed to -accept him. Hitherto the difference in their social status had -rendered any such proceeding thoroughly unlikely. A tutor, or a--what -did they call it?--reporter to a newspaper, could scarcely have the -impertinence to propose for an earl's sister; but, as a member of -Parliament, the man enjoyed a position in society, and nothing could -be said against him on that score. There was Lady Violet Magnier, -Lord Haughtonforest's daughter. Well, Mr. Magnier sold ribbons, and -pocket-handkerchiefs and things, in the City; but then he was member -for some place, and was very rich, and it was looked upon as a very -good match for Lady Violet. Mr. Joyce was just the man to assert -himself in a highly disagreeable manner; he always held views about -the supremacy of intellect, and that kind of rubbish; and the more he -kept away from them, the less chance he would have of exercising any -influence over Lady Caroline Mansergh. - -It may be imagined, then, that her ladyship was not best pleased when -her sister-in-law informed her that she had had a telegram from Walter -Joyce, asking whether he might come down to Westhope to see her on -special business, and that she "supposed Margaret had no objection." - -Margaret had strong objections, but did not think it politic to say so -just then, so merely intimated that she would be happy to see Mr. -Joyce whenever he chose to come. - -The tone in which this intimation was conveyed was so little pleasing -to Lady Caroline, that she took care to impress on her sister-in-law -the fact that Joyce's visit was to her, Lady Caroline, and that she -had merely mentioned his coming as a matter of politeness to her -hostess, which did not tend to increase Lady Hetherington's regard for -Walter Joyce. - -But the _bien-séances_ were never neglected on account of any personal -feeling; and when Joyce arrived at the station, he recognised the -familiar livery on the platform, and found a carriage in waiting to -convey him to Westhope. - -During the drive he occupied himself in thinking over the wondrous -changes which had taken place since his first visit to that -neighbourhood, when, with a wardrobe provided by old Jack Byrne, and a -scanty purse supplied from the same source, he had come down in a -dependent position, not knowing any of those amongst whom his lot in -life was to be passed, and without the least idea as to the kind of -treatment he might expect at their hands. That treatment, he knew, -would have been very different had it not been for Lady Caroline -Mansergh. But for her counsel, too, he would have suffered himself to -have remained completely crushed and vanquished by Marian Ashurst's -conduct, would have subsided into a mere drudge without energy or -hope. Yes, all the good in his life he owed to the friendship, to the -kindly promptings of that sweetest and best of women. He felt that -thoroughly, and yet it never struck him that in asking her to advise -him as to his marriage with some one else, he was committing, to say -the least of it, a solecism. The axiom which declares that the -cleverest men have the smallest amount of common sense, has a broader -foundation than is generally believed. - -On his arrival at Westhope, Joyce was informed by the butler that Lord -Hetherington had gone round the Home Farm with the bailiff, and that -her ladyship was out driving, but that they would both be home to -luncheon, when they expected the pleasure of his company; meanwhile -would he walk into the library, where Lady Caroline Mansergh would -join him? He went into the library, and had just looked round the room -and viewed his old associations--glanced at the desk where he had sat -working away for so many hours at a stretch, at the big tomes whence -he had extracted the subject-matter for that great historical work, -still, alas! incomplete--at the line of Shakespearean volumes which -formed Lady Caroline Mansergh's private reading--when the door opened, -and Lady Caroline came in. Country air had not had its usual -beneficial effect, Joyce thought as he looked at her; for her face was -very pale, and her manner nervous and odd. Yet she shook him warmly by -the hand, and bade him be seated in her old cheery tone. - -"It is very good of you to let me come down here, breaking in upon the -rest which I have no doubt you want, and boring you with my own -private affairs," said Joyce, seating himself in the window-sill close -by the armchair which Lady Caroline had taken. - -"It is not very good of you to talk conventionalities, and to pretend -that you don't know I have a deep interest in all that concerns you," -replied Lady Caroline. - -"I have every reason to know it, and my last words were merely a -foolish utterance of society talk----" - -"Which you always declare to despise, and which you know I detest." - -"Quite true; think it unspoken and absolve me." - -"I do; but if we are to have what you used to call a 'business talk,' -we must have it at once. In half an hour Lord and Lady Hetherington -and the luncheon will arrive simultaneously, and our chance is at -an end. And you did not come from London, I suppose, to discuss -tenant-right, or to listen to Lady Hetherington's diatribes against -servants?" - -"No, indeed; with all deference to them, I came to see you, and you -alone, to ask your advice, and to take it, which is quite a different -thing, as I have done before in momentous periods of my life." - -"And this is a momentous period?" - -"Undoubtedly--as much, if not more so, than any." - -Had she any notion of what was coming? Her pale face grew paler; she -pushed back the rippling tresses of her chestnut hair, and her large -eyes were fixed on him in grave attention. - -"You alone of any one in the world, man or woman, know the exact story -of my first love. You knew my confidence and trust, you knew how they -were abused. You saw how I suffered at the time, and you cannot be -ignorant of what is absolute fact; that to your advice and -encouragement I owe not merely recovery from that wretched state, but -the position to which I have since attained!" - -"Well?" - -"That first love fell dead--you know when! Ambition, the passion that -supplied its place, was sufficient for a time to absorb all my -thoughts, hopes, and energies. But, to a certain extent it has been -gratified, and it suffices me no longer. My heart wants some one to -love, and turns to one to whom it owes gratitude, but whom it would -sooner meet with a warmer feeling. Are you not well, Lady Caroline?" - -"Quite well, thanks, and--and interested. Pray go on!" - -"To go on is difficult. It is so horrible in a man to have to say that -he sees he has awakened interest in a woman, that she shows all -unknowingly to herself, but still sufficiently palpable, that he is -the one person in the world to her, that she rejoices in his presence, -and grieves at his absence; worst of all, that all, this is pointed -out to him by other people----" - -Lady Caroline's cheeks flushed as she echoed the words, "Pointed out -to him by other people!" - -"Exactly. That's the worst of it. However, all this being so, and my -feelings such as I have described, I presume I shouldn't be repeating -my former error--inviting a repetition of my previous fate--in asking -her to be my wife?" - -"I--I should think not." The flush still in her cheeks. "Do I know the -lady?" - -"Do you know her? No one knows her so well!" The flush deeper than -ever. "Ah, Lady Caroline, kindest and dearest of friends, why should -I keep you longer in suspense? It is Maude Creswell!" - -Her face blanched in an instant. Her grasp tightened rigidly over the -arm of the chair on which it lay, but she gave no other sign of -emotion. Even her voice, though hollow and metallic, never shook as -she repeated the name, "Maude Creswell!" - -"Yes. Maude Creswell! You are surprised, I see, but I don't think you -will blame me for my choice! She is eminently ladylike, and clever, -and nice, and----" - -"I don't think you could possibly---- What is it, Thomas?" - -"Luncheon, my lady." - -"Very well. I must get you to go in to luncheon without me, Mr. Joyce; -you will find Lord and Lady Hetherington in the dining-room, and I -will come down directly. We will resume our talk afterwards." - -And she left the room, and walked swiftly and not too steadily up the -hall towards the staircase. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. -NIGHT AND MORNING. - - -Both Lord and Lady Hetherington were in the dining-room when Joyce -entered, the former with his brown velveteen suit splashed and -clay-stained, and his thick boots rich with the spoil of many a furrow -(he was bitten with a farming and agricultural mania just then), and -the latter calm and collected as Walter ever remembered her. She -received the visitor with perfect politeness, expressed in a few -well-chosen sentences her pleasure at seeing him again and the -satisfaction with which she had learned of his improved position; -then, after scanning him with rather a searching glance, she turned to -the footman, and asked where was Lady Caroline, and whether she knew -luncheon was ready. Joyce replied for the man. Lady Caroline had heard -the announcement of luncheon, but had asked him to come in by himself, -saying she would follow directly. Her ladyship had gone up to her -room, the footman added; he did not think her ladyship was very well. -The footman was new to Westhope, or he would have known that the -domestics of that establishment were never allowed to think, or at -least were expected to keep their thoughts to themselves. - -Lady Hetherington of course ignored the footman's remark entirely, but -addressed herself to Joyce. - -"I hope you did not bring down any ill news for Lady Caroline, Mr. -Joyce?" - -"Not I, indeed, Lady Hetherington. I merely came to ask her ladyship's -advice on--well, on a matter of business." - -"In which she was interested?" - -"No, indeed! I was selfish enough to lay before her a matter in which -my own interests were alone concerned." - -"Ah!" said Lady Hetherington, with a sigh of relief, "I was afraid it -might be some business in which she would have to involve herself for -other people, and really she is such an extraordinary woman, -constituting herself chaperone to two young women who may be very well -in their way, I dare say, but whom nobody ever heard of, and doing -such odd things, but--however, that's all right." - -Her ladyship subsiding, his lordship here had a chance of expressing -his delight at his ex-secretary's advancement, which he did warmly, -but in his own peculiar way. So Joyce had gone into Parliament; right, -quite right, but wrong side, hey, hey? Radicals and those sort of -fellows, hey? Republic and that sort of thing! Like all young men, -make mistakes, hey, but know better soon, and come round. Live to see -him in the Carlton yet. Knew where he picked up those atrocious -doctrines--didn't mind his calling them atrocious, hey, hey?--from -Byrne; strange man, clever man, deuced clever, well read, and all that -kind of thing, but desperate free-thinker. Thistlewood, Wolfestone, -and that kind of thing. Never live to see him in the Carlton. No, of -course not; not the place for him. Recollect the Chronicles? Ah, of -course; deuced interestin', all that stuff that--that I wrote then, -wasn't it? Had not made much progress since. So taken up with farmin' -and that kind of thing; must take him into the park before he left, -and show him some alterations just going to be made, which would be an -immense improvement, immense imp---- Oh, here was Lady Caroline! - -What did that idiotic footman mean by saying he thought Lady Caroline -was not well? She came in looking radiant, and took her seat at the -table with all her usual composure. Lady Hetherington looked at her in -surprise, and said-- - -"Anything the matter, Caroline?" - -"The matter, Margaret! Nothing in the world. Why?" - -"You told Mr. Joyce to come in to luncheon without you, and Thomas -said you had gone upstairs. I feared you had one of your faint -attacks." - -"Thanks for your sympathy. No! I knew Mr. Joyce would be leaving -almost directly after luncheon, and I had a letter to write which I -want him to be good enough to take to town for me. So I seized the -only chance I had and ran off to write it." - -"Deuced odd that!" said Lord Hetherington; "here's British -post-office, greatest institution in the country. Rowland Hill, and -that kind of thing; take your letters everywhere for a penny--penny, -by Jove, and yet you'll always find women want fellows to make postmen -of themselves, and carry their letters themselves." - -"This is a special letter, West," said Lady Caroline. "You don't -understand." - -"Oh yes, I do," said his lordship with a chuckle, "women's letters all -special letters, hey, hey? order to the haberdasher for a yard of -ribbon, line to Mitchell's for stalls at the play--all special, hey, -Mr. Joyce, hey?" - -When luncheon was over Joyce imagined that Lady Caroline would return -with him to the library and then renew their conversation. He was -accordingly much surprised when she suggested to Lord Hetherington -that he should show Mr. Joyce the alterations which were about to be -made in the park. His lordship was only too glad to be mounted on his -hobby, and away they went, not returning until it was time for Joyce -to start for the station. He did not see Lady Hetherington again, but -his lordship, in great delight at the manner in which his agricultural -discourse had been listened to, was very warm in his adieux, and -expressed his hope that they would meet in town. "Politics always laid -aside at the dinner-table, Mr. Joyce, hey, hey?" - -And Lady Caroline, after bidding him farewell, placed a note in his -hand, saying, "This was the letter I spoke of." - -He glanced at it and saw it was addressed to himself, and the next -instant the carriage started. Addressed to himself! Did she not say at -luncheon that she had been writing a note which she wanted him to take -to town for her, and--and yet there was the address, Walter Joyce, -Esq., in her bold firm hand. There must be an enclosure which he was -to deliver or to post. - -And then he did what he might have done at first--broke open the seal -of the envelope and took out the contents. One sheet of note paper, -with these words-- - - -"I think you will be doing rightly in acting as you propose. Miss -Creswell is handsome, clever, and exceptionally 'thorough.' From what -I have seen of her I should think she would make you an excellent -helpmate, and you know I should not say this were I not tolerably -certain about it. I may not see you again for a few weeks, as I detest -this specially cold spring, and shall probably run away to Torquay, or -perhaps even to Nice, but letters to Chesterfield Street will always -find me, and I shall always have the warmest and deepest interest in -your welfare. Good-bye. C.M." - - -"She is a woman of extraordinary mental calibre," said Joyce to -himself, as he refolded the note and placed it in his pocket. "She -grasps a subject immediately, thinks it through at once, and writes an -unmistakable opinion in a few terse lines. A wonderful woman! I've no -doubt she had made up her mind, and had written that note before she -came down to luncheon, though she did not give it to me until just -now." - -Walter Joyce was wrong. The interval between leaving him and her -arrival in the dining-room had been passed by Lady Caroline on her -bed, where she fell, prone, as the door closed behind her. She lay -there, her face buried in the pillow, her hands tightly clasped behind -her head, her hair escaped from its knot and creeping down her back, -her heart beating wildly. Ah, what minutes of agony and humiliation, -of disappointment and self-contempt! It had come upon her very -suddenly, and had found her unprepared. She had never dared to analyse -her feeling for Joyce; knew of its existence, but did not know or -would not admit to herself what it was. Tried to persuade herself that -it was "interest" in him, but laughed contemptuously at the poor -deceit when she found her heart beating double pace as she read of his -progress at the election, or her cheek flaming and her lip quivering -as she did battle against Lady Hetherington's occasional impertinences -about him. Those were the signs of something more than interest--of -love, real, unmistakable passion. What a future might it not have been -for her? She had respected her first husband for his kindness, his -confidence, his equable temper. She would have respected this man -too--respected him for his talent, his bravery, his skill and courage -with which he had fought the great battle of life; but she would have -loved him too--loved him with that wild passion, with that deep -devotion. For the first time in her life she had learned what it was -to love, and learned it too late. On those few occasions when she had -dared to reveal to herself what was hidden in the inmost recesses of -her soul, she had come to the conclusion that though the happiness for -which she pined would never be realised--and she never concealed from -herself the improbability of that--yet she should always hold the -first position in his thoughts. The bitter disappointment which he had -suffered at Miss Ashurst's hands had, she thought, effectually -extinguished all idea of marriage in his mind. And now he came to -her--to her of all women in the world--to tell her of his loneliness, -his want of some one to sympathise with and be his companion, and to -ask her advice as regarded his selection of Maude Creswell! It was too -hard upon her, too much for her to bear this. A score of schemes -flashed through her brain. Suppose she were to temporise with this -question? A word from her would make Joyce defer taking any steps in -the matter for the present, and in the interval she could easily let -him see how she--the state of her---- Ah, the shame, the wretched -humiliation! Was she bewitched, or was she in sober seriousness--she, -Caroline Mansergh, whose pride as Caroline West was a byword--was she -going to throw herself at the head of a man who had not only never -shown any intention of proposing to her, but had actually come to -consult her about his marriage with another woman It was impossible. -_Noblesse oblige_. Lady Caroline West's pride, dormant and overlaid -with other passions, yet lived in Lady Caroline Mansergh, and asserted -itself in time. She rose from the bed, bathed her face, adjusted her -hair, poured some sal-volatile in a glass with a shaking hand, and -swallowed it through her set teeth, then went down to luncheon, as we -have seen. She expressly avoided any chance of future conversation -with Walter, and the note was written while he was out with Lord -Hetherington. - -Of course, Walter Joyce was utterly ignorant of Lady Caroline's -feelings. As she hid them from herself as much as possible, it was -unlikely that she would suffer him to catch the smallest inkling of -them; and it is very questionable whether, had his powers of -divination been infinitely stronger than they were, he would have -understood them. The one spark of romance with which nature had -endowed him had been completely stamped out by Marian Ashurst, and the -rest of his organisation was commonplace naturally, and made more -commonplace by practical experience of the world. He wondered Lady -Caroline had not arranged to have a farther talk with him. She had -left him, or rather they had been interrupted just at the critical -moment, just when he had told her the object of his visit; and it was -odd, to say the least of it, that she did not seek an early -opportunity for letting him know her opinion on the really weighty -question on which he had consulted her. And yet she always knew best; -no doubt she thought it was essential that he should please Lord -Hetherington, who was evidently bent on showing him those alterations, -and, perhaps, she thought, too, that he might like to have her answer -in writing to refer to on occasion. What a capital answer it was! He -palled it out of his pocket, and looked at it again, so clear and -concise and positive. His excellent helpmate. Yes, that was what he -wanted. How exactly she appreciated him! Running to Torquay or Nice? -What a funny thing! He had never heard her complain of being affected -by the cold before, and--however she approved of his intentions in -regard to Maude Creswell--that was the great point. So ruminated -Walter Joyce, the hard-headed and practical, sliding gradually into a -hundred other thoughts of work to be done and schemes to be looked -into, and people to be seen, with which he was so much engaged that, -until he reached London, both Maude and Lady Caroline were fairly -obliterated from his mind. - -He slept at his chambers that night, and went down to Helmingham the -next day. There was a station now at the village, and it was here that -Joyce alighted, not merely because it was more convenient than going -to Brocksopp, but because it saved him the annoyance of having to run -the gauntlet of a walk through the midst of his constituency, every -other member of which had a complaint to make or a petition to prefer. -The Helmingham people, of course, were immensely impressed by the -sight of a man who, originally known to them as pursuing the -mysterious profession of a Schoolmaster, had grown into that yet more -inscrutable being, a Member of Parliament; but their wonderment was -simply expressed in gaping and staring. They kept their distance -peasant-like, and never dreamed of button-holing their member, as did -the Brocksoppians. The road that led from the station to the village -skirted the wall of the school-garden. It was a low wall, and looking -over it, Joyce saw Maude Creswell tying up a creeper which was trained -round the study window. Her attitude was pretty, a sunbeam shone on -her hatless head, and the exertion given to her task had brought a -bright colour to her usually pale face. Never before had she looked so -attractive in Joyce's eyes. He dismissed from his mind the interesting -question of compulsory education for factory children, which he had -been revolving therein for the last hour and a half, and quickened his -pace towards the house. - -Maude was in the study when he entered. The flush had left her face, -but returned when she saw him. He advanced and took her hand. - -"So soon back!" she cried. "When I came down yesterday, they told me -you had gone to town, and probably would not return; and I was so -horribly vexed!" - -"Were you? That's kind of you, indeed!" - -"Well, you know--I mean----" - -"What you say. I believe that firmly, for you have the credit of being -quite unconventional. No, I merely went to London on business, and -that finished I returned at once. Where is your sister?" - -"Out." - -"And her husband?" - -"How can you ask such a question? With her, of course. They have gone -to pay a visit." - -"A visit; where? I--I beg your pardon; how very rude of me to ask such -a question! What a tell-tale face you have, Miss Creswell I saw the -rudeness I had committed by your expression." - -"You give me credit for more power than I possess. There was no -rudeness in your asking. They have gone to Woolgreaves." - -"To Woolgreaves!" - -"Yes. Mrs. Creswell called here two days ago--the day you went to -London; but Gertrude and George were out, So she left a note stating -she was very anxious to see them, and they have gone over there -to-day. They had no notion you would have come down, or they would not -have gone. I am so sorry they are not here." - -"I confess I am not." - -"Not sorry! That's not polite. Why are you not sorry?" - -"Because I wanted to talk to you." - -"To me?" - -"Yes, to you. I've something to consult you about, in relation to my -recent, visit to town; rather a difficult matter, but I have all faith -in your good judgment." - -"I'm afraid you rate my judgment too highly, Mr. Joyce; but at all -events, you may be assured of my answering you honestly, and to the -best of my power." - -"That is all I ask. That granted, I can make sure of the rest. And -really it is not such a great matter after all. Only a little advice; -but such advice as only a woman--more than that, only a peculiar kind -of woman--can give." - -"Do I fulfil the requirements?" - -"Exactly." - -"Then proceed at once; and I will promise to answer exactly as I -think." - -"Well, then, I have a friend, about my own age, of sufficiently mean -birth, whose father was a man of restricted views and small mind, both -cramped and narrowed by the doctrines of the religious sect to which -he belonged, but whose mother was an angel. Unfortunately the mother -died too soon after the boy's birth to be of much good to him, beyond -leaving him the recollection of her sweet face and voice and -influence--a recollection which he cherishes to this day. After his -wife's death the boy's father became more and more imbued with the -sectarian doctrines, an undue observance of which had already had its -effect in his home, and, dying shortly after, left his son almost -unprovided for, and friendless, save in such friendship as the lad -might have made for himself. This, however, proved sufficient. The -master of the school at which the lad attended took great interest in -him, half-adopted him as it were, and, when the youth was old enough, -took him as his assistant in the school. This would have met my -friend's views sufficiently--for he was a plodding, hardworking -fellow--had he had no other motive; but he had another: he was in love -with the schoolmaster's daughter, and she returned the passion. Am I -wearying you with this rigmarole?" - -"You know you are not. Please go on!" - -"So they proceeded in their Arcadian simplicity, until the -schoolmaster died, leaving his wife and daughter unprovided for; and -my friend had to go out into the world to seek his fortune--to seek -his bread rather, I should say--bread to be shared, as soon as he had -found enough of it, with his betrothed. But while he was floundering -away, throwing out a grappling-iron here and there, striving to attach -himself to something where bread was to be earned, the young lady had -a slice of cake offered to her, and, as she had always preferred cake -to bread, she accepted it at once, and thought no more of the man who -was hunting so eagerly for penny rolls for her sake. You follow me?" - -"Yes, yes! Pray go on!" - -"Well, I'm nearly at the end of my story! When my friend found that -the only person in the world which was dear to him had treated him so -basely he thought he should die, and he said he should, but he didn't. -He suffered frightfully; he never attempts to deny that, though there -was an end of all things for him; that life was henceforth a blank, -and all that sort of thing, for which see the circulating library. And -he recovered; he threw himself into the penny-roll hunting with -greater vigour than ever, and he succeeded wonderfully. For a time, -whenever his thoughts turned towards the woman who had treated him so -shamefully, had jilted him so heartlessly, he was full of anger and -hopes for revenge, but that period passed away, and the desire to -improve his position, and to make progress in the work which he had -undertaken, occupied all his attention. Then he found that this was -not sufficient; that his heart yearned for some one to love, for some -one to be loved by: and he found that some one, but he did not ask her -to become his wife!" - -"He did not. Why not?" - -"Because he was afraid her mind might have been poisoned by some -warped story of his former engagement, some----" - -"Could he swear to her that his story--as you have told it to me--is -true?" - -"He could, and he would!" - -"Then she would not be worthy of his love; if she refused to believe -him!" - -"Ah, Maude, dearest and best, is there any need to involve the story -further; have you not known its meaning from the outset? Heart whole -and intact, I offer you my hand, and swear to do my best to make the -rest of our lives happy if you take it. You don't answer. Ah, I don't -want you to. Thanks, dear, a thousand times for giving me a new, -fresh, worthy interest in life!" - - -"You here, Mr. Joyce? Why, when did you get back?" - -"Half an hour since, Gertrude. You did not expect me, I hear!" - -"Certainly not, or we shouldn't have gone out. And we did no good -after all." - -"No good? How do you mean?" - -"Oh, madam was out. However, bother madam. Did you see Lady Caroline?" - -"I did." - -"And did you settle about Maude's staying with us?" - -"No." - -"Nor about her going to her ladyship's?" - -"No." - -"Why, what on earth was the use of your going to town? What have you -settled?" - -"That she's to stay with--me." - -"With you?" - -"With me." - -"Why, you don't mean to say that you're going--that she's going----?" - -"I do--exactly that." - -"Oh, you dear Walter! I am so delighted! Here, George! What did I say -about those three crows we saw as we were driving in the pony-chaise? -They did mean a wedding, after all!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. -MARIAN'S RESOLVE. - - -To have an income of fifteen thousand a year, and to be her own -mistress, would, one would have imagined, have placed Marian Creswell -on the pinnacle of worldly success, and rendered her perfectly happy. -In the wildest day-dreams of her youth she had never thought of -attaining such an income, and such a position as that income afforded -her. The pleasures of that position she had only just begun to -appreciate; for the life at Woolgreaves, though with its domestic -comforts, its carriages and horses and attentive servants, infinitely -superior to the life in the Helmingham schoolhouse, had no flavour of -the outside world. Her place in her particular sphere was very much -elevated, but that sphere was as circumscribed as ever. It was not -until after her husband's death that Marian felt she had really come -into her kingdom. The industrious gentlemen who publish in the -newspapers extracts from the last will and testaments of rich or -distinguished persons--thereby planting a weekly dagger in the bosoms -of the impecunious, who are led by a strange kind of fascination to -read of the enormous sums gathered and bequeathed--had of course not -overlooked the testamentary disposition of Mr. Creswell, "of -Woolgreaves, and Charleycourt Mills, Brocksopp, cotton-spinner and -mill-owner," but had nobly placed him at the head of one of their -weekly lists. So that when Mrs. Creswell "and suite," as they were -good enough to describe her servants in the local papers, arrived at -the great hotel at Tunbridge Wells, the functionaries of that -magnificent establishment--great creatures accustomed to associate -with the salt of the earth, and having a proper contempt, which they -do not suffer themselves to disguise, for the ordinary traveller--were -fain to smile on her, and to give her such a welcome as only the -knowledge of the extent to which they intended mulcting her in -the bill could possibly have extorted from them. The same kindly -feeling towards her animated all the sojourners in that pleasant -watering-place. No sooner had her name appeared in the Strangers' -List, no sooner had it been buzzed about that she was the Mrs. -Creswell, whose husband had recently died, leaving her so wonderfully -well off, than she became an object of intense popular interest. - -Two ladies of title--the widow of a viscount (Irish), and the wife of -a baronet (English), insolvent, and at that moment in exile in the -island of Coll, there hiding from his creditors--left cards on her, -and earnestly desired the pleasure of her acquaintance. The roistering -youth of the place, the East India colonels, the gay dogs -superannuated from the government offices, the retired business-men, -who, in the fallow leisure of their lives, did what they would,--all -looked on her with longing eyes, and set their wits to work on all -sorts of schemes to compass knowing her. Over the laity the clergy -have a great advantage--their mission is in itself sufficient -introduction--and lists of all the local charities, district churches -to be erected, parsonages to be repaired, and schools to be -established, had been presented by those interested in them to the -rich widow in person before she had been forty-eight hours in the -place. - -It was very pleasant, this popularity, this being sought after and -courted and made much of, and Marian enjoyed it thoroughly. -Unquestionably, she had never enjoyed anything so much in her previous -life, and her enjoyment had no alloy. For although just before her -husband's death, and for some little time after, she had had certain -twinges of conscience as to the part she had acted in leaving him -ignorant of all her relations with Walter Joyce when she married him, -that feeling had soon died away. Before leaving home she had had a -keen experience of absolute enjoyment in signing cheques with her own -name, and in being consulted by Mr. Teesdale as to some business of -her estate, and this feeling increased very much during her stay at -Tunbridge Wells. Nevertheless, she did not remain there very long; she -was pleased at being told that her duties required her at home, and -she was by no means one to shirk such duties as the management of an -enormous property involved. - -So Marian Creswell went back to Woolgreaves, and busied herself in -learning the details of her inheritance, in receiving from Mr. -Teesdale an account of his past stewardship, and listening to his -propositions for the future. It was very pleasant at first; there were -so many figures, the amounts involved were so enormous, there were -huge parchment deeds to look at, and actual painted maps of her -estates. She had imagined that during that period just prior to their -marriage, when she made herself useful to Mr. Creswell, she had -acquired some notion of his wealth, but she now found she had not -heard of a tenth part of it. There was a slate quarry in Wales, a -brewery in Leamington, interest in Australian ships, liens on Indian -railways, and house property in London. There seemed no end to the -wealth, and for the first few weeks, looking at the details of it with -het own eyes, or listening to the account of it in Mr. Teesdale's -sonorous voice, afforded her real pleasure. Then gradually, and almost -imperceptibly, came back upon her that feeling which had overwhelmed -her in her husband's lifetime, of which she had gotten rid for some -little space, but which now returned with fifty-fold free-questioning, -"What is the good of it all?" - -What indeed? She sat in the midst of her possessions more lonely than -the poorest cotter on any of her estates,--less cared for than the -worn-out miner, for whom, after his day's toil, his wife prepared the -evening meal, and his children huddled at his knee. Formerly her -husband had been there, with his kindly face and his soft voice, and -she had known that, notwithstanding all difference of age and -temperament between them, so long as he lived there was one to love -her with a devotion which is the lot of few in this world. Now he was -gone, and she was alone. Alone! It was a maddening thought to a woman -of Marian's condition, without the consolation of religion, without -the patience calmly to accept her fate, without the power of bowing to -the inevitable. Where money was concerned she could scarcely bring -herself to recognise the inevitable, could scarcely understand that -people of her wealth should, against their own will, be left alone in -this world, and that love, friendship, and all their sweet -associations, could not be bought. - -Love and friendship! Of the latter she could scarcely be said to have -had any experience; for Marian Ashurst was not a girl who made -friends, and Mrs. Creswell found no one equal to being admitted to -such a bond; and as to the former, though she had enjoyed it once, she -had almost forgotten all about it. It came back to her, however, as -she thought over it; all the sweet words, the soft endearing epithets, -and the loving looks came back to her, all the fond memory of that -time when, for a period, the demon of avarice was stilled, the gnawing -desire for money, and what money in her idea might bring, was -quenched; when she was honestly proud of her lover, happy in the -present, and expectant of the future. She recollected the poor dresses -and the cheap trinkets which she had in those days; the wretched -little presents which she and Walter had exchanged, and the pleasure -she experienced at receiving them at his hands. She remembered the -locket, with her portrait, which she had given him, and wondered what -had become of it. He had it, doubtless, yet, for he had never returned -it to her, not even in that first wild access of rage which he may -have felt at the receipt of the letter announcing her intended -marriage, nor since, when he had cooled down into comparative -carelessness. Surely that argued something in her favour? Surely that -showed that he had yet some lingering regard for her? In all that had -been told her of him--and specially during the election time she had -heard much--no mention had ever been made of any woman to whom he was -paying attention. She had thought of that before; she remembered it -delightedly now. Could it be that in the secret recesses of his heart -there glimmered yet, unquenched, a spark of love for her, the idol of -his youth? It was not unlikely, she thought; he was very romantic, as -she remembered him--just the sort of man in whom commerce with the -world would be insufficient to blot out early impressions, to efface -cherished ideals. - -Could it be possible that the great crisis in her life was yet to -come? That the opportunity was yet to be given her of having wealth -and position, and, to share them with her, a husband whom she could -love, and of whom she could be proud? Her happiness seemed almost too -great; and yet it was there on the cards before her. Forgetting all -she had done, and shutting her eyes to the fact that she herself had -made an enormous gulf between them, she blindly argued to herself that -it was impossible such love as Walter Joyce's for her could ever be -wholly eradicated, that some spark of its former fire must yet remain -in its ashes, and needed but tact and opportunity on her part to fan -it again into aflame. What would not life be, then, were that -accomplished? She had been pleased with the notion of entering society -as Mr. Creswell's wife (poor prosaic Mr. Creswell!), but as the wife -of Walter Joyce, who was, according to Mr. Gould, one of the most -rising men of the day, and who would have her fortune at his back to -further his schemes and advance his interests, what might not be done! -Marian glowed with delight at this ecstatic day-dream; sat cherishing -it for hours, thinking over all kinds of combinations; finally put it -aside with the full determination to take some steps towards seeing -Walter Joyce at once. - -How lucky it was, she thought, that she had behaved amiably on the -announcement of Gertrude Creswell's marriage, and not, as she had felt -inclined at first to do, returned a savage, or at best a formal, -answer! These people, these Benthalls, were just those through whose -agency her designs must be carried out. They were very friendly with -Walter, and of course saw something of him; indeed, she had heard that -he was expected down to stay at Helmingham, so soon as he could get -away from London. If she played her cards well--not too openly at -first, but with circumspection--she might make good use of these -people; and as they would not be too well off, even with the interest -of Gertrude's money, if they had a family (and these sort of people, -poor parsons and schoolmasters--James Ashurst's daughter had already -learned to speak in that way--always had a large number of children), -she might be able, in time, to buy their services and mould them to -her will. - -It was under the influence of these feelings that Marian had -determined on being exceedingly polite to the Benthalls, and she -regretted very much that she had been away from home at the time when -they called on her. She wrote a note to that effect to Mrs. Benthall, -and intimated her intention of returning the visit almost immediately. -Mrs. Benthall showed the note to her husband, who read it and lifted -his eyebrows, and asked his wife what it meant, and why the widow had -suddenly become so remarkably attached to them. Mrs. Benthall -professed her inability to answer his question, but remarked that it -was a good thing that "that" was all settled between Maude and Walter, -before Walter came in madam's way again. - -"But he isn't likely to come in her way again," said the Reverend -George. - -"I don't know that," said Gerty; "this sudden friendship for us looks -to me very much as though----" - -"You don't mean to say you think Mrs. Creswell intends making a -convenience of us?" asked Mr. Benthall. - -"I think she did so intend," said Gertrude; "but she----" - -"We'll have nothing of that sort!" cried Mr. Benthall, going through -that process which is known as "flaring up;" "we can get on well -enough without her and her presents, and if----" - -"Ah, you silly thing," interrupted Gertrude, "don't you see that when -Walter marries Maude, there will be an end of any use to which we -could be put by Mrs. Creswell, even if we were not going away to the -Newmanton living in a very few weeks? You may depend upon it, that as -soon as she hears the news--and I will take care to let her know it -when she calls here--she will gracefully retire, and during the -remainder of our stay in Helmingham we shall see very little more of -the rich widow." - - -On the night of his acceptance by Maude Creswell, Walter wrote a long -letter to Lady Caroline. He wrote it in his room--the old room in -which he used to sleep in his usher-days: he had bargained to have -that when he came down--when all the household was in bed, after an -evening passed by him in earnest conversation with Maude and Gertrude, -while Mr. Benthall busied himself with an arrangement of affairs -consequent upon his giving up the school, which he had decided upon -doing at midsummer. In the course of that long conversation Walter -mentioned that he was about to write to Lady Caroline, acquainting her -with what had taken place, and also told the girls of his having -consulted her previous to the step which he had taken. He thought this -information, as showing Lady Caroline's approbation of the match, -would be hailed with great delight; and he was surprised to see a look -pass between Maude and Gertrude, and to hear the latter say-- - -"Oh, Walter, you don't mean to say you asked Lady Caroline's advice as -to your marrying Maude!" - -"Certainly I did; and I'm sure Maude will see nothing strange in it. -She knows perfectly well that----" - -"It is not for Maude's sake that I spoke; but--but, Walter, had you no -idea, no suspicion that----" - -"That what, my dear Gertrude? Pray finish your sentence." - -"That Lady Caroline cared for you herself?" - -"Cared for me!" - -"Cared for you loved you! wanted to marry you! Can I find plainer -language than that?" - -"Good heavens, child, what nonsense are you talking! There is not the -remotest foundation for any such belief. Lady Caroline is my kindest -and best friend. If there were no social difference between us, I -should say she had behaved to me as a sister; but as for anything -else--nonsense, Gertrude!" - -Gertrude said no more; she merely shrugged her shoulders and changed -the subject. But the effect of that conversation was not lost on -Walter Joyce. It showed in the tone of his letter to Lady Caroline -written that night, softening it and removing it entirely from the -brusque and business-like style of correspondence which he generally -indulged in. - -The next day he left Helmingham early, having had a stroll with -Maude,--in which he expressed his wish that the marriage should take -place as soon as possible,--and a short talk with Gertrude, in which, -however, he made no reference to the topic discussed on the previous -evening. - -It was a lucky thing that Mr. Joyce had started by an early train; for -the Benthalls had scarcely finished their luncheon, before there was a -violent ringing at the gate-bell,--there was no servant in the county -who, for his size, could make more noise than Marian's tiger,--and -Mrs. Creswell was announced. She had driven the ponies slowly over -from Woolgreaves, and had been enjoying the bows and adulation of the -villagers as she came along. Though of course she had driven through -the village scores of times, she had never been to the schoolhouse -since she left it with her mother on their memorable visit to -Woolgreaves, that visit which resulted in her marriage. - -She was not an emotional woman, Mrs. Creswell; but her heart beat -rather faster than its placid wont as she crossed the threshold of the -gate, and stepped at once into the garden, where so many of the scenes -of her early history had been passed. There was the lawn, as untidy as -in her poor father's days, bordered by the big elm-trees, under whose -shadow she had walked in the dull summer evenings, as the hum from the -dormitories settled down into silence and slumber; and her lover was -free to join her there, and to walk with her until their frugal supper -was announced. There were the queer star and pear-shaped flower-beds, -the virginia-creeper waving in feathery elegance along the high wall, -the other side of which was put to far more practical purposes--bore -stucco instead of climbers, and re-echoed to the balls of the -fives-players. There were the narrow walks, the old paintless -gate-bell, that lived behind iron bars, the hideous stone pine-apples -on either side of the door, just as she remembered them. - -In the drawing-room, too, where she was received by Mrs. Benthall, -with the exception of a smell of stale tobacco, there was no -difference: the old paper on the walls, the old furniture, the old -dreary outlook. - -After the first round of visiting talk, Marian asked Gertrude how she -liked her new home. - -Gerty was, if anything, frank. - -"Well, I like it pretty well," she said. "Of course it's all new to -me, and the boys are great fun." - -"Are they?" said Marian, with an odd smile; "they must have changed a -great deal. I know I didn't think them 'great fun' in my day." - -"Well, I mean for a little time. Of course they'd bore one awfully -very soon, and I think this place would bore one frightfully after a -time, so dull and grim, isn't it?" - -"It's very quiet; but you mustn't let it bore you, as you call it." - -"Oh, that won't matter much, because it will only be for so short a -time." - -"So short a time! Are you going to leave Helmingham?" - -"Oh yes; haven't you heard? George has got a living--such a jolly -place, they say--in the Isle of Wight; Newmanton they call it; and we -give up here at midsummer." - -"I congratulate you, my dear Gertrude, as much as I bewail my own -misfortune. I was looking forward with such pleasure to having you -within reachable distance in this horribly unneighbourly -neighbourhood, and now you dash all my hopes! Whence did Mr. Benthall -get this singular piece of good fortune?" - -"George got the presentation from Lord Hetherington, who is a great -friend of Wal--I mean of a great friend of ours. And Lord Hetherington -had seen George in London, and had taken a fancy to him, as so many -people do; and he begged his friend to offer this living to George." - -"That is very delightful indeed; I must congratulate you, though I -must say I deserve a medal for my selflessness in doing so. It will be -charming for your sister, too; she never liked this part of the -country much, I think; and of course she will live with you?" - -"No, not live with us; we shall see her whenever she can get away from -London, I hope." - -"From London! ah, I forgot. Of course she will make your friend -Lady--Man--Lady Mansergh's her headquarters?" - -"No; you are not right yet, Mrs. Creswell," said Gertrude, smiling in -great delight, and showing all her teeth. "The fact is, Maude is going -to be married, and after her marriage she will live the greater part -of the year in London." - -"To be married! indeed!" said Marian--she always hated Maude much -worse than Gertrude. "May one ask to whom?" - -"Oh, certainly; every one will know it now,--to the new member here, -Mr. Joyce." - -"Indeed!" said Marian quite calmly (trust her for that!). "I should -think they would be excellently matched!--My dear Gertrude, how on -earth do you get these flowers to grow in a room? Mine are all -blighted, the merest brown horrors." - - -"Would he prefer that pale spiritless girl--not spiritless, but -missish, knowing nothing of the world and its ways--to a woman who -could stand by his side in an emergency, and help him throughout his -life? Am I to be for ever finding one or other of these doll-children -in my way? Shall I give up this last new greatest hope simply because -of this preposterous obstacle? Invention too, perhaps, of the other -girl's, to annoy me. Walter is not that style of man--last person on -earth to fancy a bread-and-butter miss, who---- We will see who shall -win in this round. This is an excitement which I certainly had not -expected." - -And the ponies never went so fast before. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. -THE RESULT. - - -The second day after Mrs. Creswell's visit to Helmingham, Walter Joyce -was sitting in his chambers hard at work. The approaching change in -his condition had affected him very little indeed. He had laughed to -himself to think how little. He would have laughed more had he not at -the same time reflected that it is not a particularly good sign for a -man to be so much overwhelmed by business or so generally careless as -to what becomes of him, as to look upon his marriage with very little -elation, to prepare for it in a very matter-of-fact and unromantic -way. That no man can serve two masters we know on the best authority; -and there are two who certainly will not brook being served at the -same time by the one worshipper, love and ambition. Joyce had been -courting the latter deity for many months with unexampled assiduity, -and with very excellent success, and, in reality, had never swerved in -his allegiance. He was afraid he had; he induced himself to believe -that that desire for some one to share his life with him was really -legitimate love-prompting, whereas it was much more likely a mere -wish, springing from vanity, to have some one always at hand with the -censer, some one to play the part of the stage-confidante, and receive -all his outpourings while at the same time she was loud in his -praises. The love which he felt for Maude Creswell differed as much -from the passion with which, in the bygone years, Marian Ashurst had -inspired him, as the thick brown turgid Rhine stream which flows past -Emmerich differs from the bright, limpid, diamond-sprayed water which -flashes down at Schaffhausen; but there was "body" in it, as there is -in the Rhine stream at Emmerich, sufficient to keep him straight from -any of the insidious attacks of ambition, as he soon had occasion to -prove. - -Not that the news which Gertrude Benthall had confided to him in -regard to Lady Caroline Mansergh had touched him one whit. In the -first place, he thought Gertrude had deceived herself, or, at all -events, had misconstrued the feelings by which Lady Caroline was -actuated towards him; and in the second--supposing the girl was right, -and all was as she believed--it would not have had the smallest -influence in altering anything he had done. He was not a brilliant -man, Walter Joyce, clever in his way, but lacking in _savoir faire_; -but he had a rough odd kind of common sense which stood him in better -stead than mere worldly experience, and that showed him that in his -true position the very worst thing he could have done for himself -would have been to go in for a great alliance. Such a proceeding would -have alienated the affections and the confidence of all those people -who had made him what he was, or rather who had seen him struggle up -to the position he enjoyed, and given him a helping hand at the last. -But it was because he had struggled up himself by his own exertions -that they liked him, whereas any effort in his favour by the aid of -money or patronage would have sent them at once into the opposition -ranks. No, Lady Caroline was still the kindest, the dearest, the best -of his friends! He found a letter from her on his return to chambers, -full of warm congratulations, telling him that she was compelled to -follow the medical advice of which she had spoken to him, and to leave -London for a few weeks; but she hoped on her return to welcome him and -his bride to Chesterfield Street, and retain them ever on the very -narrow list of her chiefest intimates. He was engaged on a letter to -Jack Byrne when there came a sharp clear knock at the door; such a -different knock from that usually given by the printer's boy, his most -constant visitor, that he laid down his pen, and called sonorously, -"Come in!" - -The handle was turned quietly, the door was opened quickly, and Marian -Creswell came into the room. - -Walter did not recognise her at first; her veil was half over her -face, and she was standing with her back to the light. A minute after, -he exclaimed, "Mrs. Creswell!" - -"Yes, Mr. Joyce; Mrs. Creswell! You did not expect me." - -"I did not, indeed. You are, I confess, one of the last persons I -should have expected to see in these rooms." - -"No doubt; that is perfectly natural; but I come on a matter of -business." - -"As does every one who favours me with a visit. I cannot imagine any -one coming here for pleasure. Pray be seated; take the 'client's -chair.'" - -"You are very bright and genial, Mr. Joyce; as every successful man -is." - -"As every man ought to be, Mrs. Creswell; as every tolerably -successful man can afford to be." - -"I suppose you wonder how I found your address." - -"Not the least in the world. Unfortunately I know too well that it is -in the archives of the _Post-office Directory_. Behold the painful -evidences of the fact!" and he pointed to a table covered with papers. -"Petitions, begging-letters, pamphlets, circulars, all kinds of -unreadable literature." - -"Yes; but I don't study the _Post-office Directory_, as a rule." - -"No; but you looked at it to-day, because you had an object in view. -Given the object, you will not hesitate to depart in any way from your -usual course, Mrs. Creswell." - -"I will not pretend to ignore your sarcasm, nor will I say whether it -is deserved or undeserved, though perhaps my presence here just now -should have induced you to spare me." - -"I did not mean to be sarcastic; I simply gave utterance to a thought -that came into my mind. You said you came on a matter of business? I -must be rude enough to remind you that I am very busy just now." - -"I will detain you a very short time; but, in the first place, let us -drop this fencing and folly. You know my husband is dead?" - -Joyce bowed. - -"And that I am left with a large, a very large fortune at my -disposal?" - -"I heard so, not merely when I was down at Helmingham the other day, -but here in London. It is common talk." - -"You were down in Helmingham the other day? Ah, of course! However, -suppose I had come to you to say----" and she paused. - -Joyce looked at her with great composure. "To say!" he repeated. - -"I must go through with it," she muttered beneath her breath. "To say -that the memory of old days is always rising in my mind, the sound of -old words and places always ringing in my ears, the remembrance of old -looks almost driving me mad! Suppose I had come to say all this--and -this besides--share that fortune with me!" - -"To say that to _me!_" - -"To you!" - -"It is excessively polite of you, and of course I am very much -flattered, necessarily. But, Mrs. Creswell, there is one thing that -would prevent my accepting your very generous offer." - -"And that is--" - -"I am engaged to be married." - -"I had heard some report of that kind; but, knowing you as I do, I had -set very little store by it. Walter Joyce, I have followed your -fortunes, so far as they have been made public, for many months, and I -have seen how, step by step, you have pushed yourself forward. You -have done well, very well; but there is a future for you far beyond -your present, if you but take advantage of the opportunity which I now -offer you. With the fortune which I ask you to share with me--a -fortune, mind; not a few thousand pounds such as you are anticipating -with Maude Creswell, but with a fortune at your back, and your -talents, you may do anything; there is no position which might not be -open to you." - -"You are drawing a tempting picture." - -"I am drawing a true one; for in addition to your own brains, you -would have those of a woman to aid you: a woman, mind, who has done -for herself what she proposes to do for you; who has raised herself to -the position she always longed for--a woman with skill to scheme, and -courage to carry out. Do you follow me?" - -"Perfectly." - -"And you agree?" - -"I think not. I'm afraid it's impossible. I know it's not an argument -that will weigh with you at all, or that, perhaps, you will be able to -understand; but, you see, my word is pledged to this young lady." - -"Is that all? I should think some means might be found to compensate -the young lady for her loss." - -Walter Joyce's face was growing very dark, but Marian did not perceive -it. - -"No, it is not all," he said coldly; "the thing would be impossible, -even if that reason did not exist." - -She saw that her shaft had missed its mark, but she was determined to -bring him down, so tried another. - -"Ah, Walter," she said, "do you answer me like this? In memory of the -dear old days----" - -"Stop!" he cried, bringing his hand down heavily on the writing-table -before him, and springing to his feet. "Stop!" he cried, in a voice -very different from the cold polite tone in which he had hitherto -spoken; "don't name those times, or what passed in them, for in your -mouth such allusions would be almost blasphemy. Marian Creswell--and -the mere fact that I have to call you by that name ought to have told -you what would be my answer to your proposition before you came -here--perhaps if I were starving I might take an alms of you, but -under no other circumstance would I touch a farthing of that money -which you pride yourself on having secured. You must have been -strangely forgetful when you talked to me, as you did just now, of -having 'raised yourself to the position you always longed for,' and of -having 'skill to scheme and courage to carry out' what you desire. You -forgot, surely, that in those words you told me--what I knew before, -by the way--that you longed for your present position while you were -my promised wife; and that you were bringing your skill and your -courage to work to obtain it, while I was striving, and hoping, and -slaving for you." - -"We had better put an end to this interview," said Marian, attempting -to rise. "Ah, Walter, spare me!" - -"Spare you!" he cried in unaltered tones. "Did you spare me while all -this was going on? Did you spare me when"--he opened a drawer at his -side and took out a folded paper---"when you wrote me this cruel -letter, blasting my hopes and driving me to despair, and almost to -madness? Spare you! Who have you spared? Did you spare those girls, -the nieces of the kindly old man whom you married, or, because they -were in your way, did not have them turned out of his house, their -natural home? Did you spare the old man himself when you saw him -fretting against the step which you had compelled him to take? Who -have you spared, whom have you not overridden, in your reckless career -of avarice and ambition?" - -She sat cowed and trembling for a moment, then raised her head and -looked at him with flashing eyes. - -"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Joyce," she said in a very hard voice, -that came clipping out between her tight lips,--"I am much obliged to -you for permitting me to be present at a private rehearsal of one of -your speeches. It was very good, and does you great credit. You have -decidedly improved since I saw you on the platform at Brocksopp. Your -style is perhaps a little turgid, a little bombastic, but that -doubtless is in accordance with the taste of those of whose sentiments -you are the chosen and the popular exponent. I must ask you to see me -to the cab at the door. I am unaccustomed to London, and have no -footman with me. Thanks!" And she walked out of the door which he had -opened for her, and preceded him down the staircase, with a volcano -raging in her breast, but with the most perfect outward composure. - - -See the curtain now about to drop on this little drama,--comedy of -manners rather,--where nothing or no one has been in extremes; where -the virtuous people have not been wholly virtuous; and where the -wickedest have had far less carmine and tinsel than the author has on -former occasions found a necessity to use. There is no need to "dress" -the characters with military precision in a straight line; for there -is no "tag" to be spoken, no set speech to be delivered; and, -moreover, the characters are all dispersed. - -Gertrude and her husband are in their seaside home, happy in each -other and their children. Walter and his wife are vey happy, too, in -their quiet way. He has not made any wonderful position for himself as -yet; but he is doing well, and is well thought of by his party. Dr. -Osborne has retired from practice; but most of the Helmingham and -Brocksopp folk are going on much in their usual way. - -And Marian Creswell? The woman with the peaked face and the scanty -hair turning gray, who is seldom at her own house, but appears -suddenly at Brighton, Bath, Cheltenham, or Torquay, and disappears as -suddenly, is Marian Creswell. The chosen quarry of impostors and -sycophants, she has not one single friend in whom to confide, one -creature to care for her. She is alone with her wealth; which is -merely a burden to her, and has not the power of affording her the -smallest gratification. - - - - -THE END. - - - - -PRINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wrecked in Port, by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRECKED IN PORT *** - -***** This file should be named 61447-8.txt or 61447-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/4/4/61447/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the US Web Archive -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Wrecked in Port - A Novel - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: February 18, 2020 [EBook #61447] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRECKED IN PORT *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the US Web Archive - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=aJMOAAAAIAAJ<br> -(Stanford University Libraries)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>WRECKED IN PORT.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>EDMUND YATES'S NOVELS.</h4> -<h5> <i>In boards, 2s. each; in cloth, 2s. 6d. each</i>.</h5> -<div style="margin-left:15%"> -<p style="font-weight:bold">RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.<br> -KISSING THE ROD.<br> -ROCK AHEAD.<br> -BLACK SHEEP.<br> -RIGHTED WRONG.<br> -YELLOW FLAG.<br> -IMPENDING SWORD.<br> -A WAITING RACE.<br> -BROKEN TO HARNESS.<br> -TWO BY TRICKS.<br> -A SILENT WITNESS.<br> -DR. WAINWRIGHT'S PATIENTS.<br> -NOBODY'S FORTUNE.<br> -WRECKED IN PORT.<br> -THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE.</p> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>WRECKED IN PORT.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<h5>A Novel.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>EDMUND YATES,</h4> -<h5>AUTHOR OF "THE ROCK AHEAD," "BLACK SHEEP," "LAND AT LAST," ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center">"All things that are<br> -Are more with spirit chased than enjoyed."</p> -<h5>SHAKESPEARE.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><span style="font-size:smaller">LONDON:</span><br> -GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,<br> -BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET.<br> -1879.</span></h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>TO</h5> -<h4>FRANK IVES SCUDAMORE</h4> - -<h5>This Book</h5> -<h4>IS VERY CORDIALLY INSCRIBED.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table style="width: 90%; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 5%" cellpadding="10" id="table1"> -<colgroup> -<col style="width: 10%; vertical-align: top; text-align: right"> -<col style="width: 90%; vertical-align: top; text-align: left"> -</colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"> -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -</td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>MORIBUND.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td>RETROSPECTIVE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td>MARIAN.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>MARIAN'S CHOICE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td>WOOLGREAVES.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>BREAD-SEEKING.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>A NEW FRIEND.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>FLITTING.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>THE TENTH EARL.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td>AN INTERIOR.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>THE LOUT.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td>A REMOVAL.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td>LIFE AT WESTHOPE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td>LADY CAROLINE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td>"NEWS FROM THE HUMMING CITY."</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td>"HE LOVES ME; HE LOVES ME NOT."</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td>BECOMING INDISPENSABLE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE RUBICON.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td>MARIAN'S REPLY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td>DURING THE INTERVAL.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td>SUCCESS ACHIEVED.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td>THE GIRLS THEY LEFT BEHIND THEM.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td>WEDNESDAY'S POST.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td>POOR PAPA'S SUCCESSOR.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV.</a></td> -<td>CLOUDING OVER.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI.</a></td> -<td>IN HARNESS.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII.</a></td> -<td>RIDING AT ANCHOR.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE OPPORTUNITY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX.</a></td> -<td>CANVASSING.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX.</a></td> -<td>BAFFLED.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI.</a></td> -<td>AN INCOMPLETE VICTORY.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII.</a></td> -<td>THE SHATTERING OF THE IDOL.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33">XXXIII.</a></td> -<td>TOO LATE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34">XXXIV.</a></td> -<td>FOR ONCE GERTRUDE TAKES THE LEAD.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_35" href="#div1_35">XXXV.</a></td> -<td>LADY CAROLINE ADVISES ON A DELICATE SUBJECT.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_36" href="#div1_36">XXXVI.</a></td> -<td>NIGHT AND MORNING.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_37" href="#div1_37">XXXVII.</a></td> -<td>MARIAN'S RESOLVE.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_38" href="#div1_38">XXXVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE RESULT.</td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>WRECKED IN PORT.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> -<h5>MORIBUND.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"I say! Old Ashurst's going to die."</p> - -<p>"No! How do you know? Who told you?"</p> - -<p>"I heard Dr. Osborne say so to Miss Winter."</p> - -<p>"Ah! so likely Dr. Osborne would tell that old beast! Why was its name -throughout doctors are the silentest fellows in the world. My uncle Robert is a -doctor, and I know all about it."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll take my dick I heard old Osborne say so! I say, Hawkes, if -Ashurst does die, we shall break up at once, sha'n't we?"</p> - -<p>"I should think so! Stunning!"</p> - -<p>"And we sha'n't come back till there's a new head master?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not, you young ass! That don't matter much to me; I'm going to -leave this term."</p> - -<p>"Don't I wish I was, that's all! I say, Hawkes, do you think the governors -will give old Ashurst's place to Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Joyce?--that snob! Not they, indeed! They'll get a swell from Oxford, or -somewhere, to be head master; and I should think he'll give Master Joyce the -sack. Baker, lend me twopence!"</p> - -<p>"No--I say, Hawkes, you owe me----"</p> - -<p>"I know all about that, you young beggar--pay you on Saturday. Hand out now, -or I'll fetch you a lick on the head."</p> - -<p>Under the pressure of this awful threat, little Sam Baker produced the -required sum from his trousers-pocket, and gave the coins to big Alfred Hawkes, -who threw them into the air, caught them over-handed, and walked off, whistling. -Little Sam Baker, left to himself, turned out the pocket of his trousers, which -he had not yet explored, found a half-melted acidulated drop sticking in one -corner, removed it, placed it in his mouth, and enjoyed it with great relish. -This refection finished, he leaned his little arms over the park-paling of the -cricket-field, where the above-described colloquy had taken place, and surveyed -the landscape. Immediately beneath him was a large meadow, from which the hay -had been just removed, and which, looking brown and bare and closely shorn as -the chin of some retired Indian civilian, remained yet fragrant from its recent -treasure. The meadow sloped down to a broad sluggishly-flowing stream, -unnavigated and unnavigable, where the tall green flags, standing breast-high, -bent and nodded gracefully, under the influence of the gentle summer breeze, to -the broad-leaved water-lilies couchant below them. A notion of scuttling across -the meadow and having "a bathe" in a sequestered part of the stream which he -well knew, faded out of little Sam Baker's mind before it was half formed. -Though a determined larker and leader in mischief among his coevals, he was too -chivalrous to take advantage of the opportunity which their chief's illness gave -him over his natural enemies, the masters. Their chief's illness! And little Sam -Baker's eyes were lifted from the river and fixed themselves on a house about a -quarter of a mile further on--a low-roofed, one-storeyed, red-brick house, with -a thatched roof and little mullioned windows, from one of which a white blind -was fluttering in the evening breeze. "That's his room," said little Sam Baker -to himself. "Poor old Ashurst! He wasn't half a bad old chap; he often let me -off a hundred lines he--poor old Ashurst!" And two large tears burst from the -small boy's eyes and rolled down his cheeks.</p> - -<p>The boy was right. Where the white blind fluttered was the dominie's bedroom, -and there the dominie lay dying. A gaunt, square, ugly 'room with panelled -walls, on which the paint had cracked and rubbed and blistered, with such -furniture as it possessed old-fashioned, lumbering, and mean, with evidence of -poverty everywhere--evidence of poverty which a woman's hand had evidently tried -to screen and soften without much effect. The bed, its well-worn red-moreen -curtains, with a dirty yellow border, having been tightly bound round each -sculptured post for the admittance of air, stood near the window, on which its -occupant frequently turned his glazed and sunken eyes. The sun had gone to rest, -the invalid had marked its sinking, and so had those who watched him, and the -same thought had occurred to all, but not a word had been spoken; but the -roseate flush which it leaves behind still lingered in the heavens, and, as if -in mockery, lent momentarily to the dying man's cheek a bright healthy hue such -as it was not destined to wear in life again. The flush grew fainter, and faded -away, and then a glance at the face, robbed of its artificial glory, must have -been conclusive as to the inevitable result. For the cheeks were hollow and -sunken, yellowish-white in colour, and cold and clammy to the touch; the eyes, -with scarcely any fire left in them, seemed set in large bistre rings; the nose -was thin and pinched, and the bloodless lips were tightly compressed with an -expression of acute pain.</p> - -<p>The Rev. James Ashurst was dying. Every one in Helmingham knew that, and -nearly every one had a word of kindness and commiseration for the stricken man, -and for his wife and daughter. Dr. Osborne had carried the news up to the Park -several days previously, and Sir Thomas had hemmed and coughed; and said, "Dear -me!" and Lady Churchill had shaken her head piteously on hearing it. "And -nothing much to leave in the way of--eh, my dear doctor?" It was the doctor's -turn to shake his head then, and he solaced himself with a large pinch of snuff, -taken in a flourishing and sonorous manner, before he replied that he believed -matters in that way were much worse than people thought; that he did not believe -there was a single penny--not a single penny: indeed, it was a thing not to be -generally talked of, but he might mention it in the strictest confidence to Sir -Thomas and my lady, who had always proved themselves such good friends to the -Ashursts--that was, he had mentioned to Mrs. Ashurst that there was one faint -hope of saving her husband's life, if he would submit to a certain operation -which only one man in England, Godby of St. Vitus's Hospital in London, could -perform. But when he had mentioned Godby's probable fee--and you could not -expect these eminent men to leave their regular work, and come down such a long -distance under a large sum--he saw at once how the land lay, and that it was -impossible for them to raise the money. Miss Ashurst--curious girl that, so -determined and all that kind of thing--had indeed pressed him so hard that he -had sent his man over to the telegraph-office at Brocksopp with a message -inquiring what would be Godby's exact charge for running down--it was a mere -question of distance with these men, so much a mile, and so much for the -operation--but he knew the sum he had named was not far out.</p> - -<p>From the Park, Dr. Osborne had driven his very decorous little four-wheeler -to Woolgreaves, the residence of the Creswells, his other great patients, and -there he had given a modified version of his story, with a very much modified -result. For old Mr. Creswell was away in France, and neither of the two young -ladies was of an age to feel much sympathy, unless with their intimate -relations, and they had been educated abroad, and seen but little of the -Helmingham folk; and as for Tom Creswell, he was the imp of the school, having -all Sam Baker's love of mischief without any of his good heart, and would not -have oared who was ill or who died, provided illness or death afforded occasion -for slacking work and making holiday. Every one else in the parish was grieved -at the news. The rector--bland, polished, and well endowed with worldly -goods--had been most actively compassionate towards his less fortunate brother; -the farmers, who looked upon "Master Ashurst" as a marvel of book-learning, the -labourers, who had consented to the removal of the village sports, held from -time immemorial on the village green, to a remote meadow, whence the noise could -not penetrate to the sick man's room, and who had considerately lowered the -matter as well as the manner of their singing as they passed the schoolhouse at -night in jovial chorus--all these people pitied the old man dying, and the old -wife whom he would leave behind. They did not say much about the daughter; when -they referred to her it was generally to the effect that she would manage -tolerably well for herself, for "she were a right plucked un, Miss Marian were."</p> - -<p>They were right. It needed little skill in physiognomy to trace, even under -the influence of the special circumstances surrounding her, the pluck and spirit -and determination in every feature of Marian Ashurst's face. They were patent to -the most ordinary beholder; patent in the brown eye, round rather than -elongated, small yet bright as a beryl; in the short sharply curved nose, in the -delicately rounded chin, which relieved the jaw of a certain fulness, -sufficiently characteristic, but scarcely pretty. Variety of expression was -Marian's great charm; her mobile features acting under every impulse of her -mind, and giving expression to her every thought. Those who had seen her seldom, -or only in one mood, would scarcely have recognised her in another. To the old -man, lying stretched on his death-bed, she had been a fairy to be worshipped, a -plaything to be for ever prized. In his presence the brown eyes were always -bright, the small, sharp, white teeth gleamed between the ripe red lips, and one -could scarcely have traced the jaw, that occasionally rose rigid and hard as -iron, in the soft expanse of the downy cheek. Had he been able to raise his -eyes, he would have seen a very different look in her face as, after bending -over the bed and ascertaining that her father slept, she turned to the other -occupant of the room, and said, more in the tone of one pondering over and -repeating something previously heard than of a direct question----</p> - -<p>"A hundred and thirty guineas, mother!"</p> - -<p>For a minute Mrs. Ashurst made her no reply. Her thoughts were far away. She -could scarcely realise the scene passing round her, though she had pictured it -to herself a hundred times in a hundred different phases. Years ago--how many -years ago it seemed!--she was delicate and fragile, and thought she should die -before her husband, and she would lie awake for hours in the night, rehearsing -her own death-bed, and thinking how she should tell James not to grieve after -her, but to marry again, anybody except that Eleanor Shaw, the organist's -daughter, and she <i>should</i> be sorry to think of that flighty minx going -through the linen and china after she was gone. And now the time had really -come, and he was going to be taken from her; he, her James, with his big brown -eyes and long silky hair, and strong lithe figure, as she first remembered -him--going to be taken from her now, and leave her an old woman, poor and lone -and forlorn--and Mrs. Ashurst tried to stop the tears which rolled down her -face, and to reply to her daughter's strange remark.</p> - -<p>"A hundred and thirty guineas! yes, my dear, you're thinking of Mr.---- I -forget his name--the surgeon. That was the sum he named."</p> - -<p>"You're sure of it, mother?"</p> - -<p>"Certain sure, my dear! Mr. Casserly, Dr. Osborne's assistant, a very -pleasant-spoken young man, showed me the telegraph message, and I read it for -myself. It gave me such a turn that I thought I should have dropped, and Mr. -Casserly offered me some sal volatile or peppermint--I mean of his own accord, -and never intended to charge for it, I am sure."</p> - -<p>"A hundred and thirty guineas! and the one chance of saving his life is to be -lost because we cannot command that sum! Good God! to think of our losing him -for want of---- Is there no one, mother, from whom we could get it? Think, -think! It's of no use sitting crying there! Think, is there no one who could -help us in this strait?"</p> - -<p>The feeling of dignity which Mrs. Ashurst knew she ought to have assumed was -scared by her daughter's earnestness, so the old lady merely fell to smoothing -her dress, and, after a minute's pause, said in a tremulous voice--</p> - -<p>"I fear there is no one, my dear! The rector, I dare say, would do something, -but I'm afraid your father has already borrowed money of him, and I know he has -of Mr. King, the chairman of the governors of the school. I don't know whether -Mr. Casserly----"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Casserly, mother, a parish doctor's drudge! Is it likely that he would -be able to assist us?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't know, my dear, about being able, I'm sure he would be willing! -He was so kind about that sal volatile that I am sure he would do what---- Lord! -we never thought of Mr. Creswell!"</p> - -<p>Set and hard as Marian's face had been throughout the dialogue, it grew even -more rigid as she heard these words. Her lips tightened, and her brow clouded as -she said, "Do you think that I should have overlooked that chance, mother? Do -you not know that Mr. Creswell is away in France? He is the very first person to -whom I should have thought of applying."</p> - -<p>Under any other circumstances, Mrs. Ashurst would have been excessively -delighted at this announcement. As it was, she merely said, "The young ladies -are at Woolgreaves, I think."</p> - -<p>"The young ladies!" repeated Marian, bitterly--"the young ladies! The young -dolls--dolts--dummies to try dresses on! What are Maude and Gertrude Creswell to -us, mother? What kindness, courtesy even, have they ever shown us? To get at -their uncle's purse is what we most need----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Marian, Marian!" interrupted Mrs. Ashurst, "what are you saying?"</p> - -<p>"Saying?" replied Marian calmly--"Saying? The truth! What should I say when I -know that if we had the command of Mr. Creswell's purse, father's life -might--from what I gather from Dr. Osborne, most probably would--be saved! Are -these circumstances under which one should be meek and mild and thankful for -one's lot in life! Is this a time to talk of gratitude and---- He's moving! Yes, -darling father, Marian is here!"</p> - -<p> -Two hours afterwards, Marian and Dr. Osborne stood in the porch. There were -tears in the eyes of the garrulous but kindly old man; but the girl's eyes were -dry, and her face was set harder and more rigid than ever. The doctor was the -first to speak.</p> - -<p>"Good night, my dear child," said he; "and may God comfort you in your -affliction. I have given your poor mother a composing draught, and trust to find -her better in the morning. Fortunately, you require nothing of that kind. God -bless you, dear! It will be a consolation to you, as it is to me, to know that -your father, my dear old friend, went off perfectly placid and peacefully."</p> - -<p>"It is a consolation, doctor--more especially as I believe such an ending is -rare with people suffering under his disease."</p> - -<p>"His disease, child? Why, what do you think your father died of?"</p> - -<p>"Think, doctor? I know! Of the want of a hundred and thirty guineas!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> -<h5>RETROSPECTIVE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The Reverend James Ashurst had been head master of the Helmingham Grammar -School for nearly a quarter of a century. Many old people in the village had a -vivid recollection of him as a young man, with his bright brown hair curling -over his coat-collar, his frank fearless glances, his rapid jerky walk. They -recollected how he was by no means particularly well received by the powers that -then were, how he was spoken of as "one of the new school"--a term in itself -supposed to convey the highest degree of opprobrium--and how the elders had -shaken their heads and prophesied that no good would come of the change, and -that it would have been better to have held on to old Dr. Munch, after all. Old -Dr. Munch, who had been Mr. Ashurst's immediate predecessor, was as bad a -specimen of the old-fashioned, nothing-doing, sinecure-seeking pedagogue as -could well be imagined; a rotund, red-faced, gouty-footed divine, with a thick -layer of limp white cravat loosely tied round his short neck, and his suit of -clerical sables splashed with a culinary spray; a man whose originally small -stock of classical learning had gradually faded away, and whose originally large -stock of idleness and self-gratification had simultaneously increased. Forty -male children, born in lawful wedlock in the parish of Helmingham, and properly -presented on the foundation, might have enjoyed the advantages of a free -classical and mathematical education at the Grammar School under the will of old -Sir Ranulph Clinton, the founder; but, under the lax rule of Dr. Munch, the -forty gradually dwindled to twenty, and of these twenty but few attended school -in the afternoon, knowing perfectly that for the first few minutes after coming -in from dinner the doctor paid but little attention as to which members of the -class might be present, and that in a very few minutes he fell into a state of -pleasant and unbroken slumber.</p> - -<p>This state of affairs was terrible, and, worst of all, it was getting buzzed -abroad. The two or three conscientious boys who really wanted to learn shook -their heads in despair, and appealed to their parents to "let them leave;" the -score of lads who enjoyed the existing state of affairs were, lad-like, unable -to keep it to themselves, and went about calling on their neighbours to rejoice -with them; so, speedily, every one knew the state of affairs in Helmingham -Grammar School. The trustees of the charity, or "governors," as they were -called, had not the least notion how to proceed. They were, for the most part, -respectable tradesmen of the place, who had vague ideas about "college" as of a -sequestered spot where young men walked about in stuff gowns and trencher caps, -and were, by some unexplained circumstance, rendered fit and ready for the -bishop to convert into clergymen. There must, they thought, probably be in this -"college" some one fit to take the place of old Dr. Munch, who must be got rid -of, come what may. At first, the resident "governors"--the tradesmen of -Helmingham--thought it best to write to two of their colleagues, who were -non-resident, and not by any manner of means tradesmen, being, in fact, two -distinguished peers of the realm, who, holding property in the neighbourhood, -had, for political reasons, thought fit to cause themselves to be elected -governors of old Sir Ranulph Clinton's foundation. The letters explaining the -state of affairs and asking for advice were duly written; but matters political -were at a standstill just then; there was not the remotest chance of an election -for years; and so the two private secretaries of the two noble lords pitched -their respective letters into their respective wastebaskets, with mutual grins -of pity and contempt for the writers. Thrown back on their own resources, the -resident governors determined on applying to the rector; acting under the -feeling that he, as a clergyman, must have been to this "college," and would -doubtless be able to put them in the way of securing such a man as they -required. And they were right. The then rector, though an old man, still kept up -occasional epistolary intercourse with such of his coevals as remained at the -university in the enjoyment of dignities of fellowships; and, being himself both -literate and conscientious, was by no means sorry to lend a hand towards the -removal of Dr. Munch, whom he looked upon as a scandal to the cloth. A -correspondence entered into between the rector of Helmingham and the Principal -of St. Beowulph's College, Oxford, resulted in the enforced resignation of Dr. -Munch as the head master of Helmingham Grammar School, and the appointment of -the Reverend James Ashurst as his successor. The old doctor took his fate very -calmly; he knew that for a long time he had been doing nothing, and had been -sufficiently well paid for it. He settled down in a pleasant village in Kent, -where an old crony of his held the position of warden to a City Company's -charity, and this history knows him no more.</p> - -<p>When James Ashurst received his appointment he was about eight-and-twenty, -had taken a double second class, had been scholar and tutor of his college, and -stood well for a fellowship. By nature silent and reserved, and having found it -necessary for the achievement of his position to renounce nearly all -society--for he was by no means a brilliant man, and his successes had been -gained by plodding industry, and constant application rather than by the -exercise of any natural talent--James Ashurst had but few acquaintances, and to -them he never talked of his private affairs. They wondered when they heard that -he had renounced certain prospects, notably those of a fellowship, for so poor a -preferment as two hundred pounds a year and a free house: for they did not know -that the odd, shy, silent man had found time in the intervals of his reading to -win the heart of a pretty trusting girl, and that the great hope of his life, -that of being able to marry her and take her to a decent home of which she would -be mistress, was about to be accomplished.</p> - -<p>On a dreary, dull day, in the beginning of a bitter January, Mr. Ashurst -arrived at Helmingham. He found the schoolhouse dirty, dingy, and uncomfortable, -bearing traces everywhere of the negligence and squalor of its previous -occupant; but the chairman of the governors, who met him on his arrival, told -him that it should be thoroughly cleaned and renovated during the Easter -holidays, and the mention of those holidays caused James Ashurst's heart to leap -and throb with an intensity with which house-painting could not possibly have -anything to do. In the Easter holidays he was to make Mary Bridger his wife, and -that thought sustained him splendidly during the three dreary intervening -months, and helped him to make head against a sea of troubles raging round him. -For the task on which he had entered was no easy one. Such boys as had remained -in the school under the easy rule of Dr. Munch were of a class much lower than -that for which the benefits of the foundation had been contemplated by the -benevolent old knight, and having been unaccustomed to any discipline, had -arrived at a pitch of lawlessness which required all the new master's energy to -combat. This necessary strictness made him unpopular with the boys, and at first -with their parents, who made loud complaints of their children being "put upon," -and in some cases where bodily punishment had been inflicted had threatened -retribution. Then the chief tradespeople and the farmers, among whom Dr. Munch -had been a daily and nightly guest, drinking his mug of ale or his tumbler of -brandy-and-water, smoking his long clay pipe, taking his hand at whist, and -listening, if not with pleasure, at any rate without remonstrance, to language -and stories more than sufficiently broad and indecorous, found that Mr. Ashurst -civilly, but persistently, refused their proffered hospitality, and in -consequence pronounced him "stuck-up." No man was more free from class -prejudices, but he had been bred in old Somerset country society, where the -squirearchy maintained an almost feudal dignity, and his career in college had -not taught him the policy of being on terms of familiarity with those whom -Fortune had made his inferiors.</p> - -<p>So James Ashurst struggled on during the first three months of his novitiate -at Helmingham, earnestly and energetically striving to do his duty, with, it -must be confessed, but poor result. The governors of the school had been so -impressed by the rector's recommendation, and by the testimonials which the new -master had submitted to them, that they expected to find the regeneration of the -establishment would commence immediately upon James Ashurst's appearance upon -the scene, and were rather disappointed when they found that, while the number -of scholars remained much the same as at the time of Dr. Munch's retirement, the -general dissatisfaction in the village was much greater than it had ever been -during the reign of that summarily-treated pedagogue. The rector, to be sure, -remained true to the choice he had recommended, and maintained everywhere that -Mr. Ashurst had done very well in the face of the greatest difficulties, and -would yet bring Helmingham into notice. But, notwithstanding constant ocular -proof to the contrary, the farmers held that in the clerical profession, as in -freemasonry, there was a certain occult something beyond the ordinary ken, which -bound members of "the cloth" together, and induced them to support each other to -the utmost stretch of their consciences--a proceeding which, in the opinion of -freethinking Helmingham, allowed for a considerable amount of elasticity.</p> - -<p>At length the long-looked-for Easter tide arrived, and James Ashurst hurried -away from the dull gray old midland country village to the bright little -Thames-bordered town where lived his love. A wedding with the church approach -one brilliant pathway of spring flowers, a honeymoon of such happiness as one -knows but once in a lifetime, passed in the lovely Lake country, and then -Helmingham again. But with a different aspect. The old schoolhouse itself brave -in fresh paint and new plaster, its renovated diamond windows, its cleaned slab -so classically eloquent on the merits <i>fundatoris nostri</i> let in over the -porch, its newly stuccoed fives' wall and fresh-gravelled playground; all this -was strange but intelligible. But James Ashurst could not understand yet the -change that had come over his inner life. To return after a hard day's grinding -in a mill of boys to his own rooms was, during the first three months of his -career at Helmingham, merely to exchange active purpose for passive existence. -Now, his life did but begin when the labours of the day were over, and he and -his wife passed the evenings together, in planning to combat with the present, -in delightful anticipations of the future. Mr. Ashurst unwittingly, and without -the least intending it, had made a very lucky hit in his selection of a wife, so -far as the Helmingham people were concerned. He was "that bumptious" as they -expressed it, or as we will more charitably say, he was sufficiently -independent, not to care one rap what the Helmingham people thought of anything -he did, provided he had, as indeed at that time he always had--for he was -conscientious in the highest degree--the knowledge that he was acting rightly -according to his light. In a very few weeks the actual sweetness, the quiet -frankness, the most enthusiastic charm of Mrs. Ashurst's demeanour had -neutralised all the ill-effects of her husband's three months' previous career. -She was a small-boned, small-featured, delicate-looking little woman, and as -such excited a certain amount of compassion and kindness amid the midland-county -ladies, who, as their husbands said of them, "ran big." It was a positive relief -to one to hear her soft little treble voice after the booming diapason of the -Helmingham ladies, or to see her pretty little fat dimpled hands flashing here -and there in some coquetry of needlework after being accustomed to looking on at -the steady play of particularly bony and knuckly members in the unremitting -torture of eminently utilitarian employment. High and low, gentle and simple, -rich and poor, still felt equally kindly disposed towards Mrs. Ashurst. Mrs. -Peacock, wife of Squire Peacock, a tremendous magnate and squire of the -neighbouring parish, fell so much in love with her that she made her husband -send their only son, a magnificent youth destined eventually for Eton, Oxford, -Parliament, and a partnership in a brewery, to be introduced to the Muses as a -parlour-boarder in Mr. Ashurst's house; and Hiram Brooks, the blacksmith and -minister of the Independent Chapel, who was at never-ending war with all the -members of the Establishment, made a special exception in Mrs. Ashurst's favour, -and doffed his greasy leathern cap to her as she passed the forge.</p> - -<p>And his pretty little wife brought him good fortune, as well as domestic -happiness? James Ashurst delighted to think so. His popularity in the village, -and in the surrounding country, was on the increase; the number of scholars on -the foundership had reached its authorised limit (a source of great -gratification, though of no pecuniary profit to the head master); and Master -Peacock had now two or three fellow-boarders, each of whom paid a fine annual -sum. The governors thought better of their head master now, and the old rector -had lived long enough to see his recommendation thoroughly accepted, and his -prophecy, as regards the improved status of the school, duly fulfilled. Popular, -successful in his little way, and happy in his domestic relations, James Ashurst -had but one want. His wife was childless, and this was to him a source of -discomfort, always felt and occasionally expressed. He was just the man who -would have doated on a child, would have suffered himself to have been -pleasantly befooled by its gambols, and have worshipped it in every phase of its -tyranny. But it was not to be, he supposed; that was to be the one black drop in -his draught of happiness: and then, after he had been married for five or six -years, Mrs. Ashurst brought him a little daughter. His hopes were accomplished, -but he nearly lost his wife in their accomplishment; while he dandled the newly -born treasure in his arms, Mrs. Ashurst's life was despaired of; and when the -chubby baby had grown up into a strong child, and from that sphere of life had -softened down into a peaceful girl, her mother, always slight and delicate, had -become a constant invalid, whose ill-health caused her husband the greatest -anxiety, and almost did away with the delight he had in anticipating every wish -of his darling little Marian.</p> - -<p>James Ashurst had longed for a child, and he loved his little daughter dearly -when she came; but even then his wife held the deepest and most sacred place in -his heart, and as he marked her faded cheek and lustreless eye, he felt a pang -of remorse, and accused himself of having set himself up against the just -judgment of Providence, and having now received the due reward of his repining. -For one who thought his darling must be restored to health, no sacrifice could -be too great to accomplish that result; and the Helmingham people, who loved -Mrs. Ashurst dearly, but who in their direst straits were never accustomed to -look for any other advice than that which could be afforded them by Dr. Osborne, -or his village opponent, Mr. Sharood, were struck with admiration when Dr. -Langton, the great county physician, the oracle of Brocksopp, was called into -consultation. Dr. Langton was a very little man, noted almost as much for his -reticence as his skill. He never wasted a word. After a careful examination of -Mrs. Ashurst he pronounced it to be a tiresome case, and prescribed a four -months' residence at the baths of Ems as the likely treatment to effect a -mitigation, if not a cure. Dr. Osborne, after the great man's departure, laughed -aloud in his bluff way at the idea of a country schoolmaster sending his wife to -Ems.</p> - -<p>"Langton is so much in the habit of going about among the country families, -and these <i>novi homines</i> of manufacturers who stink of brass, as they say -in these parts, that he forgets there is such a thing as having to look -carefully at ways and means, my dear Ashurst, and make both dovetail. Baths of -Ems, indeed! I'm afraid you've thrown away your ten guineas, my good friend, if -that's all you've got out of Langton!"</p> - -<p>But Dr. Osborne's smile was suddenly checked when Mr. Ashurst said very -quietly that as his wife's health was dearer to him than anything on earth, and -that there was no sacrifice which he would not make to accomplish its -restoration, he should find means of sending her to Germany, and keeping her -there until it was seen what effect the change had on her.</p> - -<p>And he did it! For two successive summers Mrs. Ashurst went to Ems with the -old nurse who had brought her up, and accompanied her from her pretty river-side -home to Helmingham; and at the end of the second season she returned -comparatively well and strong. But she needed all her strength and health when -she looked at her husband, who came to meet her in London, and found him thin, -changed, round-shouldered, and hollow-eyed, the very shadow of his former self. -James Ashurst had carried through his plans as regarded his wife at enormous -sacrifice. He had no ready money to meet the sudden call upon his purse which -such an expedition rendered necessary, and he had recourse to money-lenders to -raise the first loans required, then to friends to pay the interest on and -obtain renewals of these loans, then to other moneylenders to replace the -original sums, and to other friends to repay a portion of the first friendly -loans, until by the time his wife returned from the second visit to the -Continent he found himself so inextricably involved that he dare not face his -position, dare not think of it himself, much less have taken her into his -confidence, and so went blindly on, paying interest on interest, and hoping ever -with a vague hope for some relief from his troubles.</p> - -<p>That relief never came to James Ashurst in his lifetime. He struggled on in -the same hopeless, helpless, hand-to-mouth fashion for about eight years more, -always impecunious in the highest degree, always intending to retrieve his -fallen fortune, always slowly but surely breaking and becoming less and less of -a man under the harass of pecuniary troubles, when the illness which for some -time had threatened him set in, and, as we have seen, he died.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> -<h5>MARIAN.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The little child who was so long prayed for, and who came at last in answer -to James Ashurst's fervent prayers, had nothing during her childhood to -distinguish her from ordinary children. It is scarcely worthy of record that her -mother had a hundred anecdotes illustrative of her precocity, of her difference -from other infants, of certain peculiarities never before noticed in a child of -tender years. All mothers say these things whether they believe them or not, and -Mrs. Ashurst, stretched on her sick-couch, did believe them, and found in -watching what she believed to be the abnormal gambols of her child, a certain -relief from the constant, dreary, wearing pain which sapped her strength, and -rendered her life void and colourless and unsatisfactory. James Ashurst believed -them fervently; even if they had required a greater amount of credulity than -that which he was blessed with, he, knowing it gave the greatest pleasure to his -wife, would have stuck to the text that Marian was a wonderful, "really, he -might say, a very wonderful child." But he had never seen anything of childhood -since his own, which he had forgotten, and the awakening of the commonest -faculties in his daughter came upon him as extraordinary revelations of subtle -character, which, when their possessor had arrived at years of maturity, would -astonish the world. The Helmingham people did not subscribe to these opinions. -Most of them had children of their own, who, they considered, were quite as -eccentric, and odd, and peculiar as Marian Ashurst. "Not that I'm for 'lowin -that to be pert and sassy one minute, and sittin' mumchance wi'out sa much as a -word to throw at a dog the next, is quite manners," they would say among -themselves; "but what's ye to expect? Poor Mrs. Ashurst layin' on the brode of -her back, and little enough of that, poor thing, and that poor feckless -creature, the schoolmaster, buzzed i' his 'ed wi' book larnin' and that! A -pretty pair to bring up such a tyke as Miss Madge!"</p> - -<p>That was in the very early days of her life. As the "tyke" grew up she -dropped all outward signs of tykishness, and seemed to be endeavouring to prove -that eccentricity was the very last thing to be ascribed to her. The Misses -Lewin, whose finishing-school was renowned throughout the county, declared they -had never had so quick or so hardworking a pupil as Miss Ashurst, or one who had -done them so much credit in so short a time. The new rector of Helmingham -declared that he should not have known how to get through his class and parish -work had it not been for the assistance which he had received from Miss Ashurst -at times when--when really--well, other young ladies would, without the -slightest harm to themselves, be it said, have been enjoying themselves in the -croquet-ground. When the wardrobe woman retired from the school to enter into -the bonds of wedlock with the drill-sergeant (whose expansive chest and manly -figure, when going through the "exercise without clubs," might have softened -Medusa herself), Marian Ashurst at once took upon herself the vacant situation, -and resolutely refused to allow any one else to fill it. These may have been put -down as eccentricities; they were evidences of odd character certainly not -usually found in girls of Marian's age, but they were proofs of a spirit far -above tykishness. All her best friends, except, of course, the members of her -family whose views regarding her were naturally extremely circumscribed, noticed -in the girl an exceedingly great desire for the acquisition of knowledge, a -power of industry and application quite unusual, an extraordinary devotion to -anything she undertook, which suffered itself to be turned away by no -temptation, to be wearied by no fatigue. Always eager to help in any scheme, -always bright-eyed and clear-headed and keen-witted, never unduly asserting -herself, but always having her own way while persuading her interlocutors that -she was following their dictates, the odd shy child grew up into a girl less -shy, indeed, but scarcely less odd. And certainly not lovable: those who fought -her battles most strongly--and even in that secluded village there were social -and domestic battles, strong internecine warfare, carried on with as much -rancour as in the great city itself--were compelled to admit there was "a -something" in her which they disliked, and which occasionally was eminently -repulsive.</p> - -<p>This something had developed itself strongly in the character of the child, -before she emerged into girlhood; and though it remained vague as to definition, -while distinct as to impression in the minds of others, Marian herself -understood it perfectly, and could have told any one, had she chosen, what it -was that made her unlike the other children, apart from her being brighter and -smarter than they, a difference which she also perfectly understood. She would -have said, "I am very fond of money, and the others are not; they are content to -have food and clothes, but I like to see the money that is paid for them, and to -have some of it, all for myself, and to heap it up and look at it, and I am not -satisfied as they are, when they have what they want--I want better things, -nicer food, and smarter clothes, and more than them, the money. I don't say so, -because I know papa hasn't got it, and so he cannot give it to me; but I wish he -could. There is no use talking and grumbling about things we cannot have; people -laugh at you, and are glad you are so foolish when you do that, so I say nothing -about it, but I wish I was rich."</p> - -<p>Marian would have made some such answer to any one who should have -endeavoured to get at her mind to find out what that was lurking there, never -clearly seen, but always plainly felt, which made her "old fashioned," in other -than the pathetic and interesting sense in which that expression has come to be -used with reference to children, before she had entered upon her teens.</p> - -<p>A clever mother would have found out this grave and ominous component of the -child's character--would have interpreted the absence of the thoughtless -extravagance, so charming, if sometimes so trying, of childhood--would have been -quick to have noticed that Marian asked, "What will it cost?" and gravely -entered into mental calculation on occasions when other children would have -demanded the purchase of a coveted article clamorously, and shrieked if it were -refused. But Mrs. Ashurst was not a clever mother--she was only a loving, -indulgent, rather helpless one; and the little Marian's careful ways were such a -practical comfort to her, while the child was young, that it never occurred to -her to investigate their origin, to ask whether such a very desirable and -fortunate effect could by possibility have a reprehensible, dangerous, insidious -cause. Marian never wasted her pennies, Marian never spoiled her frocks, Marian -never lost or broke anything; all these exceptional virtues Mrs. Ashurst -carefully noted and treasured in the storehouse of her memory. What she did not -notice was, that Marian never gave anything away, never voluntarily shared any -of her little possessions with her playfellows, and, when directed to do so, -complied with a reluctance which all her pride, all her brave dread of the -appearance of being coerced, hardly enabled her to subdue, and suffered -afterwards in an unchildlike way. What she did not observe was, that Marian was -not to be taken in by glitter and show; that she preferred, from the early days -in which her power of exhibiting her preference was limited by the extent of the -choice which the toy-merchant---who combined hardbake and hairdressing with -ministering to the pleasures of infancy--afforded within the sum of sixpence. If -Marian took any one into her confidence, or asked advice on such solemn -occasions--generally ensuing on a protracted hoarding of the coin in -question--it would not be by the questions, "Is it the prettiest?" "Is it the -nicest?" but, "Do you think it is worth sixpence?" and the child would look from -the toy to the money, held closely in the shut palm of her chubby hand, with a -perturbed countenance, in which the pleasure of the acquisition was almost -neutralised by the pain of the payment--a countenance in which the spirit of -barter was to be discerned by knowing eyes. But none such took note of Marian's -childhood. The illumination of love is rather dazzling than searching in the -case of mothers of Mrs. Ashurst's class, and she was dazzled. Marian was -perfection in her eyes, and at an age at wthe inversion of the relations between -mother and daughter, common enough in later life, would have appeared to others -unreasonable, preposterous, Mrs. Ashurst surrendered herself wholly, happily, to -the guidance and the care of her daughter. The inevitable self-assertion of the -stronger mind took place, the inevitable submission of the weaker. In this -instance, a gentle, persuasive, unconscious self-assertion, a joyful yielding, -without one traversing thought of humiliation or deposition.</p> - -<p>Her daughter was so clever, so helpful, so grave, so good; her economy and -management--surely they were wonderful in so young a girl, and must have come to -her by instinct?--rendered life such a different, so much easier a thing, -delicate as she was, and requiring so disproportionate a share of their small -means to be expended on her, that it was not surprising Mrs. Ashurst should see -no possibility of evil in the origin of such qualities.</p> - -<p>As for Marian's father, he was about as likely to discover a comet or a -continent as to discern a flaw in his daughter's moral nature. The child, so -longed for, so fervently implored, remained always, in her father's sight, -Heaven's best gift to him; and he rejoiced exceedingly, and wondered not a -little, as she developed into the girl whom we have seen beside his death-bed. -He rejoiced because she was so clever, so quick, so ready, had such a masterly -mind and happy faculty of acquiring knowledge; knowledge of the kind he prized -and reverenced; of the kind which he felt would remain to her, an inheritance -for her life. He wondered why she was so strong, for he knew she did not take -the peculiar kind of strength of character from him or from her mother.</p> - -<p>It was not to be wondered at that these peculiarities of Marian Ashurst were -noticed by the inhabitants of the village where she was born, and where her -childish days had been passed; but it was remarkable that they were regarded -with anything but admiration. For a keen appreciation of money, and an unfailing -determination to obtain their money's worth, had long been held to be eminently -characteristic of the denizens of Helmingham. The cheesefactor used to declare -that the hardest bargains throughout his county connection were those which Mrs. -Croke, and Mrs. Whicher, and, worst of all, old Mrs. M'Shaw (who, though -Helmingham born and bred, had married Sandy M'Shaw, a Scotch gardener, imported -by old Squire Creswell) drove with him. Not the very best ale to be found in the -cellars of the Lion at Brocksopp (and they could give you a good glass of ale, -bright, beaming, and mellow, at the Lion, when they choose), not the strongest -mahogany-coloured brandy-and-water, mixed in the bar by the fair hands of Miss -Parkhurst herself, not even the celebrated rum-punch, the recipe of which, like -the songs of the Scandinavian scalds, had never been written out, but had -descended orally to old Tilley, the short, stout, rubicund landlord--had ever -softened the heart of a Helmingham farmer in the matter of business, or induced -him to take a shilling less on a quarter of wheat, or a truss of straw, than he -had originally made up his mind to sell it at.</p> - -<p>"Canny Helmingham" was its name throughout the county, and its people were -proud of it. Mr. Chambré, an earnest clergyman who had succeeded the old rector, -had been forewarned of the popular prejudice, and on the second Sunday of his -ministry addressed his parishioners in a very powerful and eloquent discourse -upon the wickedness of avarice and the folly of heaping up worldly riches; after -which, seeing that the only effect his sermon had was to lay him open to -palpable rudeness, he wisely concentrated his energies on his translation of -Horace's Odes (which has since gained him such great renown, and of which at -least forty copies have been sold), and left his parishioners' souls to take -care of themselves. But however canny and saving they might be, and however, -sharply they might battle with the cheesefactor and look after the dairymaid, as -behoved farmers' wives in these awful days of free trade (they had a firm belief -in Helmingham that "Cobden," under which generic name they understood it, was a -kind of pest, as is the smut in wheat, or the tick in sheep), all the principal -dames in the village were greatly shocked at the unnatural love of money which -it was impossible to help noticing in Marian Ashurst.</p> - -<p>"There was time enow to think o' they things, money and such-like fash, when -pipple was settled down," as Mrs. Croke said; "but to see children hardenin' -their hearts and scrooin' their pocket-money is unnatural, to say the least of -it!" It was unnatural and unpopular in Helmingham. Mrs. Croke put such a screw -on the cheesefactor, that in the evening after his dealings with her, that -worthy filled the commercial room at the Lion with strange oaths and modern -instances of sharp dealing in which Mrs. Croke bore away the palm; but she was -highly indignant when Lotty Croke's godmother bought her a savings-bank, a gray -edifice, with what theatrical people call a practicable chimney, down which the -intended savings should be deposited. Mrs. Whicher's dairymaid, who, being from -Ireland, and a Roman Catholic in faith, was looked upon with suspicion, not to -say fear, in the village, and who was regarded by the farmers as in constant -though secret communication with the Pope of Rome and the Jesuit College -generally, declared that her mistress "canthered the life out of her" in the -matter of small wages and much work; but Mrs. Whicher's daughter, Emily, had -more crimson gowns, and more elegant bonnets, with regular fields of poppies, -and perfect harvests of ears of corn growing out of them, than any of her -compeers, for which choice articles the heavy bill of Madame Morgan--formerly of -Paris, now of Brocksopp--was paid without a murmur. "It's unnat'ral in a gell -like Marian Ashurst to think so much o' money and what it brings," would be a -frequent remark at one of those private Helmingham institutions known as "thick -teas." And then Mrs. Croke would say, "And what like will a gell o' that sort -look to marry? Why, a man maun have poun's and poun's before she'd say 'yea' and -buckle to!"</p> - -<p>But that was a matter which Marian had already decided upon.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> -<h5>MARIAN'S CHOICE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>At a time when it seemed as though the unchildlike qualities which had -distinguished the child from her playmates and coevals were intensifying and -maturing in the girl growing up, then, to all appearance, hard, calculating, and -mercenary, Marian Ashurst fell in love, and thenceforward the whole current of -her being was diverted into healthier and more natural channels. Fell in love is -the right and the only description of the process so far as Marian was -concerned. Of course she had frequently discussed the great question which racks -the hearts of boarding-school misses, and helps to fill up the spare time of -middle-aged women, with her young companions, had listened with outward calmness -and propriety, but with an enormous amount of unshown cynicism, to their simple -gushings, and had said sufficient to lead them to believe that she joined in -their fervent admiration of and aspiration for young men with black eyes and -white hands, straight noses and curly hair. But all the time Marian was building -for herself a castle in the air, the proprietor of which, whose wife she -intended to be, was a very different person from the hairdressers' dummies whose -regularity of feature caused the hearts of her companions to palpitate. The -personal appearance of her future husband had never given her an instant's care; -she had no preference in the colour of his eyes or hair, in his height, style, -or even of his age, except she thought she would rather he were old. Being old, -he was more likely to be generous, less likely to be selfish, more likely to -have amassed riches and to be wealthy. His fortune would be made, not to be -made; there would be no struggling, no self-denial, no hope required. Marian's -domestic experiences caused her to hate anything in which hope was required; she -had been dosed with hope without the smallest improvement, and had lost faith in -the treatment. Marriage was the one chance possible for her to carry out the -dearest, most deeply implanted, longest-cherished aspiration of her heart--the -acquisition of money and power. She knew that the possession of the one led to -the other; from the time when she had saved her schoolgirl pennies and had -noticed the court paid to her by her little friends, to the then moment when the -mere fact of her having a small stock of ready money, even more than her sense -and shrewdness, gave her position in that impecunious household, she had -recognised the impossibility of achieving even a semblance of happiness in -poverty. When she married, it should be for money, and for money alone. In the -hard school of life in which she had been trained she had learned that the prize -she was aiming at was a great one, and one difficult to be obtained; but that -knowledge only made her the more determined in its pursuit. The difficulties -around her were immense; in the narrow circle in which she lived she had not any -present chances of meeting with any person likely to be able to give her the -position which she sought, far less of rendering him subservient to her wishes. -But she waited and hoped; she was waiting and hoping, calmly and quietly -fulfilling the ordinary duties of her very ordinary life, but never losing sight -of her fixed intent. Then across the path of her life there came a man who -seemed to give promise of eventually fulfilling the requirements she had planned -out for herself. It was but a promise; there was nothing tangible; but the -promise was so good, and the girl's heart yearned for an occupant, for, with all -its hard teaching and its worldly aspirations, it was but human after all. So -her human heart and her worldly wisdom come to a compromise in the matter of her -acceptance of a lover, and the result of that compromise was her engagement to -Walter Joyce.</p> - -<p>When the Helmingham Grammar School was under the misrule of old Dr. Munch, -then at its lowest ebb, and nominations to the foundation were to be had for the -asking, and, indeed, in many cases sent a-begging, it occurred to the old head -master to offer one of the vacancies to Mr. Joyce, the principal grocer and -maltster of the village, whose son was then just of an age to render him -accessible to the benefits of the education which Sir Ranulph Clinton had -devised to the youth of Helmingham, and which was being so imperfectly supplied -to them under the auspices of Dr. Munch. You must not for an instant imagine -that the offer was made by the old doctor out of pure loving-kindness and -magnanimity; he looked at it, as he did at most things, from a purely practical -point of view: he owed Joyce the grocer so much money, and if Joyce the grocer -would write him a receipt in full for all his indebtedness in return for a -nomination for Joyce junior, at least he, the doctor, would not have done a bad -stroke of business. He would have wiped out an existing score, the value of -which proceeding meant, in Dr. Munch's eyes, that he would be enabled at once to -commence a fresh one, while the acquisition of young Joyce as a scholar would -not cause one atom of difference in the manner in which the school was -conducted, or rather, left to conduct itself. The offer was worth making, for -the debt was heavy, though the doctor was by no means sure of its being -accepted. Andrew Joyce was not Helmingham-born; he had come from Spindleton, one -of the large inland capitals, and had purchased the business which he owned. He -was not popular among the Helmingham folk, who were all strict church-people so -far as morning-service attending, tithe-paying, and parson-respecting were -concerned, from the fact that his religious tendencies were suspected to be what -the villagers termed "Methodee." He had his seat in the village church, it is -true, and put in an appearance there on the Sunday morning; but instead of -spending the Sabbath evening in the orthodox way--which at Helmingham consisted -in sitting in the best parlour with a very dim light, and enjoying the blessings -of sound sleep while Nelson's <i>Fasts and Festivals</i>,or some equally proper -work, rested on the sleeper's knee, until it fell off with a crash, and was only -recovered to be held upside down until the grateful announcement of the arrival -of supper--Mr. Joyce was in the habit of dropping into Salem Chapel, where Mr. -Stoker, a shining light from the pottery district, dealt forth the most -uncomfortable doctrine in the most forcible manner. The Helmingham people -declared, too, that Andrew Joyce was "uncanny" in other ways; he was -close-fisted and niggardly, his name was to be found on no subscription-list; he -was litigious; he declared that Mr. Prickett, the old-fashioned solicitor of the -village, was too slow for him, and he put his law-matters into the hands of -Messrs. Sheen and Nasmyth, attorneys at Brocksopp, who levied a distress before -other people had served a writ, and who were considered the sharpest -practitioners in the county. Old Dr. Munch had heard of the process of Messrs. -Sheen and Nasmyth, and the dread of any of it being exercised on him originally -prompted his offer to Andrew Joyce. He knew that he might count on an ally in -Andrew Joyce's wife, a superior woman, in very delicate health, who had great -influence with her husband, and who was devoted to her only son. Mrs. Joyce, -when Hester Baines, had been a Bible-class teacher in Spindleton, and had had -herself a fair amount of education--would have had more, for she was a very -earnest woman in her vocation, over striving to gain more knowledge herself for -the mere purpose of imparting it to others, but from her early youth she had -been fighting with a spinal disease, to which she was gradually succumbing; so -that although sour granite-faced Andrew Joyce was not the exact helpmate that -the girl so full of love and trust could have chosen for herself, when he -offered her his hand and his home, she was glad to avail herself of the -protection thus afforded, and of the temporary peace which she could thus enjoy -until called, as she thought she should be, very speedily to her eternal rest.</p> - -<p>That call did not come nearly as soon as Hester Baines had anticipated, not, -indeed, until nearly a score of years after she gave up Bible-teaching, and -became Andrew Joyce's wife. In the second year of her marriage a son was born to -her, and thenceforward she lived for him, and for him alone. He was a small, -delicate, sallow-faced boy, with enormous liquid eyes, and rich red lips, and a -long throat, and thin limbs, and long skinny hands. A shy retiring lad, with an -invincible dislike to society of any kind, even that of other boys; with a -hatred of games and fun, and an irrepressible tendency to hide away somewhere, -anywhere, in an old lumber-room amid the disused trunks, and broken -clothes-horses, and general lumber, or under the wide-spreading branches of a -tree, and then, extended, prone on his stomach, to lie with his head resting on -his hands, and a book flat between his face-supporting arms. He got licked -before he had been a week at the school, because he openly stated he did not -like half-holidays, a doctrine which when first whispered among his -schoolfellows was looked upon as incredible, but which, on proof of its -promulgation, brought down upon its holder severe punishment.</p> - -<p>Despite of all Dr. Munch's somnolency and neglect, despite of all his class -fellows' idleness, ridicule, or contumely, young Joyce would learn, would make -progress, would acquire accurate information in a very extraordinary way. When -Mr. Ashurst assumed the reins of government at Helmingham Grammar School, the -proficiency, promise, and industry of Walter Joyce were the only things that -gave the now dominie the smallest gleam of interest in his fresh avocation. With -the advent of the new head master Walter Joyce entered upon another career; for -the first time in his life he found some one to appreciate him, some one who -could understand his work, praise what he had done, and encourage him to greater -efforts. This had hitherto been wanting in the young man's life. His father -liked to know that the boy "stuck to his book;" but was at last incapable of -understanding what that sticking to the book produced; and his mother, though -conscious that her son possessed talent such as she had always coveted for him, -had no idea of the real extent of his learning. James Ashurst was the only one -in Helmingham who could rate his scholar's gifts at their proper value, and the -dominie's kind heart yearned with delight at the prospect of raising such a -creditable flower of learning in such unpromising soil. He busied himself, not -merely with the young man's present but with his future. It was his greatest -hope that one of the scholarships at his old college should be gained by a pupil -from Helmingham, and that that pupil should be Walter Joyce. Mr. Ashurst had -been in communication with the college authorities on the subject; he had -obtained a very unwilling assent--an assent that would have been a refusal had -it not been for Mrs. Joyce's influence--from Walter's father that he would give -his son an adequate sum for his maintenance at the University, and he was -looking forward to a quick-coming time when a scholarship should be vacant, for -which he was certain Walter had a most excellent chance, when Mrs. Joyce had a -fit and died.</p> - -<p>From that time forth Andrew Joyce was a changed man. He had loved his wife in -his grim, sour, puritanical way, loved her sufficiently to strive against this -grimness and puritanism to the extent of his consenting to live for the most -part from the ordinary fashion of the world. But when that gentle influence was -once removed, when the hard-headed, narrow-minded man had no longer the soft -answer to turn away his wrath, the soft face to look appealingly up against his -harsh judgment, the quick intellect to combat his one-sided dogmatisms, he fell -away at once, and blossomed out as the bitter bigot into which he had gradually -but surely been growing. No college education for his son then; no assistance -from him for a bloated hierarchy, as he remarked at a public meeting, glancing -at Mr. Sifton, the curate, who had eighty pounds a year and four children; no -money of his to be spent by his son in a dissolute and debauched career at the -University. Mr. Stoker had not been at any university--as, indeed, he had not, -having picked up most of his limited education from a travelling tinker, who -combined pot-mending and knife-grinding with Bible and tract selling;--and where -would you meet with a better preacher of the Gawspel, a more shining light, or a -comelier vessel? Mr. Stoker was all in all to Andrew Joyce then, and when Andrew -Joyce died, six months afterwards, it was found that, with the exception of the -legacy of a couple of hundred pounds to his son, he had left all his money to -Mr. Stoker, and to the chapel and charities represented by that erudite divine.</p> - -<p>It was a sad blow to Walter Joyce, and almost as sharp a one to James -Ashurst. The two men--Walter was a man now--grieved together over the overturned -hopes and the extinguished ambition. It was impossible for Walter to attempt to -go to college just then. There was no scholarship vacant, and if there had been, -the amount to be won might probably have been insufficient even for this modest -youth. There was no help for it; he must give up the idea. What, then, was he to -do? Mr. Ashurst answered that in his usual impulsive way. Walter should become -under master in the school. The number of boys had increased immensely. There -was more work than he and Dr. Breitmann could manage; oh yes, he was sure of -it--he had thought so a long time; and Walter should become third classical -master, with a salary of sixty pounds a year, and board and lodging in Mr. -Ashurst's house. It was a rash and wild suggestion, just likely to emanate from -such a man as James Ashurst. The number of boys had increased, and Mr. Ashurst's -energy had decreased; but there was Dr. Breitmann, a kindly, well-read, -well-educated doctor of philosophy, from Leipzig; a fine classical scholar, -though he pronounced "amo" as "ahmo," and "Dido" as "Taito," a gentleman, though -his clothes were threadbare, and he only ate meat once a week, and sometimes not -then unless he were asked out, and a disciplinarian, though he smoked like a -limekiln; a habit which in the Helmingham schoolboys' eyes proclaimed the -confirmed debauchee of the Giovanni or man-about-town type. Welter Joyce had -been a favourite pupil of the doctor's, and was welcomed as a colleague by his -old tutor with the utmost warmth. It was understood that his engagement was only -temporary; he would soon have enough money to enable him, with a scholarship, to -astonish the University, and then---- Meanwhile Mr. Ashurst and all around -repeated that his talents were marvellous, and his future success indisputable.</p> - -<p>That was the reason why Marian Ashurst fell in love with him. As has before -been said, she thought nothing of outward appearance, although Walter Joyce had -grown into a sufficiently comely man, small indeed, but with fine eyes and an -eloquent mouth, and a neatly turned figure; nor, though a refined and educated -girl, did she estimate his talents save for what they would bring. He was to -make a success in his future life; that was what she thought of--her father said -so, and so far, in matters of cleverness and book-learning, and so on, her -father's opinion was worth something. Walter Joyce was to make money and -position, the two things of which she thought, and dreamed, and hoped for night -and day. There was no one else among her acquaintance with his power. No farmer -within the memory of living generations had done more to keep up the homestead -bequeathed to him whilst attempting to increase the number or the value of his -fields, and even the gratification of her love of money would have been but a -poor compensation to a girl of Marian's innate good breeding and refinement for -being compelled to pass her life in the society of a boor or a churl. No! Walter -Joyce combined the advantage of education and good looks with the prospect of -attaining wealth and distinction: he was her father's favourite, and was well -thought of by everybody, and--and she loved him very much, and was delighted to -comfort herself with the thought that in doing so she had not sacrificed any of -what she was pleased to consider the guiding principles of her life.</p> - -<p>And he, Walter Joyce, did he reciprocate--was he in love with Marian? Has it -ever been your lot to see an ugly or, better still, what is called an ordinary -man--for ugliness has become fashionable both in fiction and in society--to see -an ordinary-looking man, hitherto politely ignored, if not snubbed, suddenly -taken special notice of by a handsome woman, a recognised leader of the set, -who, for some special purpose of her own, suddenly discovering that he has -brains, or conversational power, or some peculiar fascination, singles him out -from the surrounding ruck, steeps him in the sunlight of her eyes, and -intoxicates him with the subtle wiles of her address? It does one good, it acts -as a moral shower-bath, to see such a man under such circumstances. Your fine -fellow simpers and purrs for a moment, and takes it all as real legitimate -homage to his beauty; but the ordinary man cannot, so soon as he has got over -his surprise at the sensation, cannot be too grateful, cannot find ways and -means--cumbrous frequently and ungraceful, but eminently sincere--of showing his -appreciation of his patroness. Thus it was with Walter Joyce. The knowledge that -he was a grocer's son had added immensely to the original shyness and -sensitiveness of his disposition, and the free manner in which his small and -delicate personal appearance had been made the butt of outspoken "chaff" of the -schoolboys had made him singularly misogynistic. Since the early days of his -youth, when he had been compelled to give a very unwilling attendance twice a -week at the dancing academy of Mr. Hardy, where the boys of the Helmingham -Grammar School had their manners softened, nor were suffered to become brutal, -by the study of the Terpsichorean art, in the company of the young ladies from -the Misses Lewin's establishment, Walter Joyce had resolutely eschewed any and -every charge of mixing in female society. He knew nothing of it, and pretended -to despise it. It is needless to say, therefore, that so soon as he was brought -into daily communication with a girl like Marian Ashurst, possessed both of -beauty and refinement, he fell hopelessly in love with her, and gave up every -thought, idea, and hope, save that in which she bore a part. She was his -goddess, and he would worship her humbly and at a distance. It would be -sufficient for him to touch the hem of her robe, to hear the sound of her voice, -to gaze at her with big dilated eyes, which--not that he knew it--were eloquent -with love, and tenderness, and worship.</p> - -<p>Their love was known to each other, and to but very few else. Mr. Ashurst, -looking up from his newspaper in the blessed interval between the departure of -the boys to bed and the modest little supper, the only meal which the family--in -which Joyce was included--had in private, may have noticed the figures of his -daughter and his usher, not his favourite pupil, lingering in the deepening -twilight round the lawn, or seen "their plighted shadows blended into one" in -the soft rays of the moonlight. But if he thought anything about it, he never -made any remark. Life was very hard and very earnest with James Ashurst, and he -may have found something softening and pleasing in this little bit of romance, -something which he may have wished to leave undisturbed by worldly suggestions -or practical hints. Or, he may have had his idea of what was actually going on. -A man with an incipient disease beginning to tell upon him, with a sickly wife, -and a perpetual striving not merely to make both ends meet, but to prevent them -bursting so wide asunder as to leave a gap through which he must inevitably fall -into ruin between them, has but little time, or opportunity, or inclination, for -observing narrowly the conduct even of those near and dear to him. Mrs. Ashurst, -in her invalid state, was only too glad to think that the few hours which Marian -took in respite for attendance on her mother were pleasantly employed, to -inquire where or in whose society they were passed--neither Marian's family nor -Joyce kept any company by whom their absence would be missed; and as for the -villagers, they had fully made up their minds on the one side that Marian was -determined to make a splendid match; on the other, that the mere fact of Walter -Joyce's scholarship was so great as to incapacitate him from the pursuit of -ordinary human frailties: so that not the ghost of a speculation as to the -relative position of the couple had arisen amongst them. And the two young -people loved, and hoped, and erected their little castles in the air, which were -palatial indeed as hope-depicted by Marian, though less ambitious as limned by -Walter Joyce, when Mr. Ashurst's death came upon them like a thunderbolt, and -blew their unsubstantial edifices into the air.</p> - -<p> -See them here on, this calm summer evening, pacing round and round the lawn, as -they used to do, in the old days already ages ago as it seems, when, James -Ashurst, newspaper in hand, would throw occasional glances at them from the -study window. Marian, instead of letting her fingers lightly touch her -companion's wrist, as is her wont, has passed her arms through his, and her -fingers are clasped together round it, and she looks up in his face, as they -come to a standstill beneath the big outspread branches of the old, oak, with an -earnest tearful gage such as she has seldom, if ever, worn before. There must be -matter of moment between these two just now, for Joyce's face looks wan and -worn; there are deep hollows beneath his large eyes, and he strives -ineffectually to conceal, with an occasional movement of his hand, the rapid -anxious play of the muscles round his mouth. Marian is the first to speak.</p> - -<p>"And so you take Mr. Benthall's decision No final, Walter, and are determined -to go to London?"</p> - -<p>"Darling, what else can I do? Here is Mr. Benthall's letter, in which he -tells me that, without the least wish to disturb me--a mere polite phrase -that--he shall bring his own assistant master to Helmingham. He writes and means -kindly, I've no doubt--but here's the fact!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I'm sure he's a gentleman, Walter; his letter to mamma proves that, -offering to defer his arrival at the schoolhouse until our own time. Of course -that is impossible, and we go into Mrs. Swainson's lodgings at once."</p> - -<p>"My dearest Marian, my own pet, I hate to think of you in lodgings; I cannot -bear to picture you so!"</p> - -<p>"You must make haste to get your position, and take me to share it, then, -Walter!" said the girl, with a half-melancholy smile; "you must do great things, -Walter. Dear papa always said you would, and you must prove how right he was."</p> - -<p>"Dearest, your poor father calculated on my success at college for the -furtherance of my fortune, and now all that chance is over! Whatever I do now -must be----"</p> - -<p>"By the aid of your own talent and industry, exactly the same appliances -which you had to rely on if you had gone to the University, Walter. You don't -fear the result? You're not alarmed and desponding at the turn which affairs -have taken? It's impossible you can fail to attain distinction, and--and money -and--and position, Walter--you must,--don't you feel it?--you must!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear, I feel it; I hope--I think; perhaps not so strongly, so -enthusiastically as you do. You see,--don't be downcast, Marian, but it's best -to look these things in the face, darling!--all I can try to get is a tutor's, -or an usher's, or a secretary's place, and in any of these the want of the -University stamp is heavily against me. There's no disguising that, Marian!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed; is that so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, child, undoubtedly. The University degree is like the Hall-mark in -silver, and I'm afraid I shall find very few persons willing to accept me as the -genuine article without it."</p> - -<p>"And all this risk might have been avoided if your father had only----"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes; but then, Marian darling, if my father had left me money to go to -college immediately on his death I should never have known you--known you, I -mean, as you are, the dearest and sweetest of women."</p> - -<p>He drew her to him as he spoke, and pressed his lips on her forehead. She -received the kiss without any undue emotion, and said--</p> - -<p>"Perhaps that had been for the best, Walter."</p> - -<p>"Marian, that's rank blasphemy. Fancy my hearing that, especially, too, on -the night of my parting with you! No, my darling, all I want you to have is -hope, hope and courage, and not too much ambition, dearest. Mine has been -comparatively but a lotus-eating existence hitherto; to-morrow I begin the -battle of life."</p> - -<p>"But slightly armed for the conflict, my poor Walter."</p> - -<p>"I don't allow that, Marian. Youth, health, and energy are not bad weapons to -have on one's side, and with your love in the background----"</p> - -<p>"And the chance of achieving fame and fortune for yourself--keep that in the -foreground!"</p> - -<p>"That is to me, in every way, less than the other; but it is, of course, an -additional spur. And now----?"</p> - -<p>And then? When two lovers are on the eve of parting, their conversation is -scarcely very interesting to any one else. Marian and Walter talked the usual -pleasant nonsense, and vowed the usual constancy, took four separate farewells -of each other, and parted with broken accents and lingering hand-clasps, and -streaming eyes. But when Marian Ashurst sat before her toilet-glass that night -in the room which had so long been her own, and which she was so soon to vacate, -she thought of what Walter Joyce had said as to his future, and wondered -whether, after all, she had not miscalculated the strength, not the courage, of -the knight whom she had selected to wear her colours in his helm in the great -contest.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> -<h5>WOOLGREAVES.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"You will be better when you have made the effort, mother," said Marian -Ashurst to the widow, one day, when the beauty of the summer was at its height, -and death and grief seemed very hard to bear, in the face of the unsympathising -sunshine. "Don't think I underrate the effort, for indeed I don't, but you will -be better when you have made it."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so, my dear," said Mrs. Ashurst, with reluctant submissiveness. "You -are right; I am sure you always are right; but it is so little use to go to any -place where one can't enjoy one's self, and where everybody must see that it is -impossible; and you have--you know----" Her lips trembled, her voice broke. Her -little hands, still soft and pretty, twined themselves together, with an -expression of pain. Then she said no more.</p> - -<p>Marian had been standing by the open window, looking out, the side of her -head turned to her mother, who was glancing at her timidly. Now she crossed the -room, with a quick steady step, and knelt down by Mrs. Ashurst's chair, clasping -her hands upon the arm.</p> - -<p>"Listen to me, dear," she said, with her clear eyes fixed on her mother's -face, and her voice, though softened to a tone of the utmost tenderness, firm -and decided. "You must never forget that I know exactly what and how much you -feel, and that I share it all" (there was a forlornness in the girl's face which -bore ample testimony to the truth of what she said) "when I tell you, in my -practical way, what we must do. You remember, once, then, you spoke to me about -the Creswells, and I made light of them and their importance and influence. I -would not admit it; I did not understand it. I had not fully thought about it -then; but I admit it now. I understand it now, and it is my turn to tell you, my -dearest mother, that we must be civil to them; we must take, or seem to take, -their offers of kindness, of protection, of intimacy, as they are made. We -cannot afford to do otherwise, and they are just the sort of people to be -offended with us irreparably, if we did not allow them to extend their -hospitality to us. It is rather officious, rather ostentatious; it has all the -bitterness of making us remember more keenly what they <i>might</i> -have done for us, but it <i>is</i> hospitality, and we need it; it <i>is</i> the -promise of further services which we shall require urgently. You must rouse -yourself, mother; this must be your share of helpfulness to me in the burden of -our life. And, after all, what does it matter? What real difference does it -make? My father is as much present to you and to me in one place as in another. -Nothing can alter, or modify, or soften; nothing can deepen or embitter that -truth. Come with me--the effort will repay itself."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ashurst had begun to look more resolved, before her daughter, who had -spoken with more than her usual earnestness and decision, had come to an end of -her argument. She put her arm round the girl's neck, and gave her a timid -squeeze, and then half rose, as though she were ready to go with her, anywhere -she chose, that very minute. Then Marian, without asking another word on the -subject, busied herself about her mother's dress, arranging the widow's heavy -sombre drapery with a deft hand, and talking about the weather, the pleasantness -of their projected walk, and the daily dole of Helmingham gossip. Marian cared -little for gossip of any kind herself, but it was a godsend to her sometimes, -when she had particular reasons for not talking to her mother of the things that -were in her mind, and did not find it easy to invent other things to talk to her -about.</p> - -<p>The object which Marian had in view just now, and which she had had some -difficulty in attaining, was the inducing of her mother, who had passed the time -since her bereavement in utter seclusion, to accept the invitation of Mr. -Creswell, the owner of Woolgreaves, the local grandee <i>par excellence</i>,the -person whose absence Marian had so lamented on the occasion of her father's -illness, to pass "a long day" with him and his nieces. It was not the first time -such an invitation had reached Mrs. Ashurst. Their rich neighbour, the dead -schoolmaster's friend, had not been neglectful of the widow and her daughter, -but it was the first time Marian had made up her mind that this advance on his -part must be met and welcomed. She had as much reluctance to break through the -seclusion of their life as her mother, though of a somewhat different stamp; but -she had been pondering and calculating, while her mother had been only thinking -and suffering, and she had decided that it must be done. She did not doubt that -she should suffer more in the acting upon this decision than her mother; but it -was made, and must be acted upon. So Marian took her mother to Woolgreaves. Mr. -Creswell had offered to send a carriage (he rather liked the use of the -indefinite article, which implied the extent of his establishment) to fetch the -ladies, but Marian had declined this. The walk would do her mother good, and -brace her nerves; she meant to talk to her easily, with seeming carelessness, of -the possibilities of the future, on the way. At length Mrs. Ashurst was ready, -and her daughter and she set forth, in the direction of the distressingly -modern, but really imposing, mansion, which, for the first time, they -approached, unsupported by him, in whose presence it had never occurred to them -to suffer from any feeling of inferiority of position or means, or to believe -that any one could regard them in a slighting manner.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell, of Woolgreaves, had entertained a sincere regard, built on -profound respect, for Mr. Ashurst. He knew the inferiority of his own mind, and -his own education, to those of the man who had contentedly and laboriously -filled so humble a position--one so unworthy of his talents, as well as he knew -the superiority of his own business abilities, the difference which had made him -a rich man, and which would, under any circumstances, have kept Mr. Ashurst -poor. He was a man possessed of much candour of mind and sound judgment; and -though he preferred, quite sincerely, the practical ability which had made him -what he was, and heartily enjoyed all the material advantages and pleasures of -his life, he was capable of profound admiration for such unattainable things as -taste, learning, and the indefinable moral and personal elements which combine -to form a scholar and a gentleman. He was a commonplace man in every other -respect than this, that he most sincerely despised and detested flattery, and -was incapable of being deceived by it. He had not failed to understand that it -would have been as impossible to James Ashurst to flatter as to rob him; and for -this reason, as well as for the superiority he had so fully recognised, he had -felt warm and abiding friendship for him, and lamented his death, as he had not -mourned any accident of mortality since the day which had seen his pretty young -wife laid in her early grave. Mr. Creswell, a poor man in those days, struggling -manfully very far down on the ladder, which he had since climbed with the ease -which not unfrequently attends effort, when something has happened to decrease -the value of success, had loved his pretty, uneducated, merry little wife very -much, and had felt for a while after she died, that he was not sure whether -anything was worth working or striving for. But his constitutional activity of -mind and body had got the better of that sort of feeling, and he had worked and -striven to remarkably good purpose; but he had never asked another woman to -share his fortunes.</p> - -<p>This was not altogether occasioned by lingering regret for his pretty Jenny. -He was not of a sentimental turn of mind, and he might even have been brought to -acknowledge, reluctantly, that his wife would probably have been much out of -place in the fine house, and at the head of the luxurious establishment which -his wealth had formed. She was humbly born, like himself, had not been -ambitious, except of love and happiness, and had had no better education than -enabled her to read and write, not so perfectly as to foster in her a taste for -either occupation. If Mr. Creswell had a sorrowful remembrance of her sometimes, -it died away with the reflection that she had been happy while she lived, and -would not have been so happy now. His continued bachelor estate was occasioned -rather by his close and engrossing attention to the interests of his business, -and, perhaps, also to the narrow social circle in which he lived. Pretty, -uneducated, simple young country women will retain their power of pleasing men -who have acquired education, and made money, and so elevated themselves far -above their original station; but the influence of education and wealth upon the -tastes of men of this sort is inimical to the chances of the young women of the -classes in society among which they habitually find their associates. The women -of the "well-to-do" world are unattractive to those men, who have not been born -in it. Such men either retain the predilections of their youth for women like -those whose girlhood they remember, or cherish ambitious aspirations towards the -inimitable, not to be borrowed or imported, refinement of the women of social -spheres far above them.</p> - -<p>The former was Mr. Creswell's case, in as far as anything except business can -be said to have been active in his affairs. The "ladies" in the Helmingham -district were utterly uninteresting to him, and he had made that fact so evident -long ago that they had accepted it; of course regarding him as an "oddity," and -much to be pitied; and since his nieces had taken up their abode, on the death -of their father, Mr. Creswell's only brother, at Woolgreaves, a matrimonial -development in Mr. Creswell's career had been regarded as an impossibility. The -owner of Woolgreaves was voted by general feminine consent "a dear old thing," -and a very good neighbour, and the ladies only hoped he might not have trouble -before him with "that pickle, young Tom," and were glad to think no poor woman -had been induced to put herself in for such a life as that of Tom's step-mother -would have been.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell's only brother had belonged, not to the "well-to-do" community, -but, on the contrary, to that of the "neer-do-weels," and he had died without a -shilling, heavily in debt, and leaving two helpless girls--sufficiently -delicately nurtured to feel their destitution with keenness amounting to -despair, and sufficiently "fashionably," <i>i.e</i>. ill, educated to be wholly -incapable of helping themselves--to the mercy of the world. The contemplation of -this contingency, for which he had plenty of leisure, for he died of a lingering -illness, did not appear to have distressed Tom Creswell. He had believed in -"luck" all his life, with the touching devotion of a selfish man who defines -"luck" as the making of things comfortable for himself, and is not troubled with -visions of, after him, the modern version of the deluge, which takes the squalid -form of the pawnbroker's and the poor-house; and "luck" had lasted his time. It -had even survived him, so far as his children were concerned, for his brother, -who had quarrelled with him, more from policy and of deliberate interest, -regarding him as a hopeless spendthrift, the helping of whom was a useless -extravagance, than from anger or disgust, came to the aid of the widow and her -children, when he found that things were very much worse than he had supposed -they would prove to be.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Tom Creswell afforded a living example of her husband's "luck." She was -a mild, gentle, very silly, very self-denying, estimable woman, who laved the -"ne'er-do-weal" so literally with all her heart that when he died she had not -enough of that organ left to go on living with. She did not see why she should -try, and she did not try, but quietly died in a few months, to the astonishment -of rational people, who declared that Tom Creswell was a "good loss," and had -never been of the least use either to himself or any other human being. What on -earth was the woman about? Was she such an idiot as not to see his faults? Did -she not know what a selfish, idle, extravagant, worthless fellow he was, and -that he had left her to either pauperism or dependence on any one who would -support her, quite complacently? If such a husband as <i>he</i> was--what she -had seen in him beyond his handsome face and his pleasant manner, <i>they</i> -could not tell--was to be honoured in this way, gone quite daft about, in fact, -they really could not perceive the advantage to men in being active, -industrious, saving, prudent, and domestic. Nothing could be more true, more -reasonable, more unanswerable, or more ineffectual. Mrs. Tom Creswell did not -dispute it; she patiently endured much bullying by strong-minded, tract-dropping -females of the spinster persuasion; she was quite satisfied to be told she had -proved herself unworthy of a better husband. She did not murmur as it was proved -to her, in the fiercest forms of accurate arithmetic, that her Tom had -squandered sums which might have provided for her and her children decently, and -had not even practised the poor self-denial of paying for an insurance on his -life. She contradicted no one, she rebuked no one, she asked forbearance and -pity from no one; she merely wept and said she was sure her brother-in-law would -be kind to the girls, and that she would not like to be a trouble to Mr. -Creswell herself, and was sure her Tom would not have liked her to be a trouble -to Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>On this point the brother of the "departed saint," as the widow called the -amiable idler of whose presence she considered the world unworthy, by no means -agreed with her. Mr. Creswell was of opinion that so long as trouble kept clear -of Tom, Tom would have been perfectly indifferent as to where it lighted. But he -did not say so. He had not much respect for his sister-in-law's intellect, but -he pitied her, and he was not only generous to her distress, but also merciful -to her weakness. He offered her a home at Woolgreaves, and it was arranged that -she should "try" to go there, after a while. But she never tried, and she never -went; she "did not see the good of" anything; and in six months after Tom -Creswell's death his daughters were settled at Woolgreaves, and it is doubtful -whether the state of orphanhood was ever in any case a more tempered, modified -misfortune than in theirs.</p> - -<p>Thus the family party at the handsome house, which Mrs. Ashurst and her -daughter were about to visit, was composed of Mr. Creswell, his son Tom, a -specimen of the schoolboy class, of whom this history has already afforded a -glimpse, and the Misses Creswell, the Maude and Gertrude of whom Marian had, in -her grief, spoken in terms of sharp and contemptuous disparagement which, though -not entirely censurable, judged from her point of view, were certainly not -altogether deserved.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell earnestly desired to befriend the visitor and her daughter. -Gertrude Creswell thought it would be very "nice" to be "great friends" with -that clever Miss Ashurst, and had, with all the impulsiveness of generous -girlhood, exulted in the idea of being, in her turn, able to extend kindness to -people in need of it, even as she and her sister had been. But Maude, who, -though her actual experience of life had been identical with her sister's, had -more natural intuition and caution, checked the enthusiasm with which Gertrude -drew this picture.</p> - -<p>"We must be very careful, Gerty dear," she said; "I fancy this clever Miss -Ashurst is very proud. People say you never find out the nature of any one until -trouble brings it to the light. It would never do to let her think one had any -notion of doing her services, you know. She might not like it from us; uncle's -kindness to them is a different thing; but we must remember that <i>we</i> are, -in reality, no better off than she is."</p> - -<p>Gertrude reddened. She had not spoken with the remotest idea of patronage of -Miss Ashurst in her mind, and her sister's warning pained her. Gertrude had a -dash of her father's <i>insouciance</i> in her, though in him it had been -selfish joviality, and in her it as only happy thoughtlessness. It had occurred -to Gertrude, more than once before to-day, to think she should like to be -married to some one whom she could love very much indeed, and away from this -fine place, which did not belong to them, though her uncle was very kind, in a -home of her awn. Maude had a habit of saying and looking things which made -Gertrude entertain such notions; and now she had, with the best intentions, -injured her pleasure in the anticipation of the visit of Mrs. Ashurst and -Marian.</p> - -<p>It was probably this little incident which lent the slight touch of coldness -and restraint to the manner of Gertrude Creswell which Marian instantly felt, -and which she erroneously interpreted. When they had met formerly, there had -been none of this hesitating formality.</p> - -<p>"These girls don't want us here?" said Marian to herself; "they grudge us -their uncle's friendship, lest it should take a form which would deprive them of -any of his money."</p> - -<p>Perhaps Marian was not aware of the resolve, lurking in her heart even then, -that such was precisely the form which that friendship should be made to take. -The evil warp in her otherwise frank and noble mind told in this. Gertrude -Creswell, to whom in particular she imputed mercenary feeling, and the -forethought of a calculating jealousy, was entirely incapable of anything of the -kind, and was actuated wholly by her dread that Marian should misinterpret any -premature advance towards intimacy on her part as an impertinence. Thus the -foundation of a misunderstanding between the two was laid.</p> - -<p>Marian's thoughts had been busy with the history of the sisters, as she and -her mother approached Woolgreaves. She had heard her father describe Tom -Creswell and his wife, and dwell upon the fortunate destiny which had -transferred Maude and Gertrude to their uncle's care. She thought of all that -now with bitterness. The contrast between her father's character, life, and -fate, and the character, life, and fate of Tom Creswell, was a problem difficult -to solve, hard to endure. Why had the measure been so differently--she would, -she <i>must</i> say so unjustly--meted to these two men? Her fancy dwelt on -every point in that terrible difference, lingered around the two deathbeds, -pictured the happy, sheltered, luxurious, unearned security of those whom the -spendthrift had left uncared for, and the harsh, gloomy future before her mother -and herself, in which only two things, hard work and scanty means, were certain, -which had been the vision her father must have seen of the fate of those he -loved, when he, so fitted to adorn an honoured and conspicuous position, had -died, worn out in the long vain strife with poverty. Here were the children of -the man who had lived utterly for self, and the widow and child of the -"righteous," who had done his duty manfully from first to last. Hard and bitter -were Marian's reflections on this contrast, and earnestly did she wish that some -speedy means of accelerating by efforts of her own the fulfilment of those -promises of Providence, in which she felt sometimes tempted to put little faith, -might arise.</p> - -<p>"I suppose he was not exactly 'forsaken,'" said the girl in her mind as she -approached the grand gates of Woolgreaves, whose ironmongery displayed itself in -the utmost profusion, allied with artistic designs more sumptuous than elegant, -"and that no one will see us 'begging our bread;' but there is only meagre -consolation to me in this, since he had not what might--or all their service is -a pretence, all their 'opinions' are lies--have saved him, and I see little to -rejoice in in being just above the begging of bread."</p> - -<p>"They have done a great deal to the place since we were here, Marian," said -Mrs. Ashurst, looking round admiringly upon the skilful gardening and rich -display of shrubs and flowers and outdoor decorations of all kinds. "It must -take a great many hands to keep this in order. Not so much as a leaf or a pebble -out of its place."</p> - -<p>"They say there are four gardeners always employed," said Marian. "I wish we -had the money it costs; we needn't wish Midsummer-day further off then. But here -is Mr. Creswell, coming to meet us."</p> - -<p>Marian Ashurst was much more attractive in her early womanhood than she had -promised to be as a very young girl, and the style of her face and figure was of -the kind which is assisted in its effect by a somewhat severe order of costume. -She was not beautiful, not even positively handsome, and it is possible she -might have looked commonplace in the ordinary dress of young women of limited -means, where cheap material and coarse colouring must necessarily be used. In -her plain attire of deep mourning, with no ornament save one or two trinkets of -jet which had been her mother's, Marian Ashurst looked far from commonplace, and -remarkably ladylike. The strongly defined character in her face, the composure -of her manner, the quietness of her movements, were not the charms which are -usually associated with youth, but they were charms, and her host was a person -to whom they were calculated to prove especially charming. Except in his -generally benevolent way of entertaining a kindly regard for his friend's -daughter, Mr. Creswell had never noted nor taken any particular notice of Marian -Ashurst; but she had not been an hour in his house before she impressed herself -upon him as being very different from all the other girls of his acquaintance, -and much more interesting than his nieces.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell felt rather annoyed with his nieces. They were civil, certainly; -but they did not seem to understand the art of making the young lady who was -visiting them happy and "at home." There was none of the freemasonry of "the -young person" about them. After a while, Mr. Creswell found that the order of -things he had been prepared for--what he certainly would have taken to be the -natural order of things--was altered, set aside, he did not know how, and that -he was walking along the trim garden-paths, after luncheon, with Miss Ashurst, -while Maude and Gertrude took charge of the visitor to whom he had meant to -devote himself, and were making themselves as amiable and pleasant to her as -they had failed to make themselves to Marian. Perhaps the fault or the reason -was as much on Miss Ashurst's side as on theirs. Before he had conducted his -visitor over all the "show" portions of the grounds and gardens, Mr. Creswell -had arrived at the conclusion that Marian was a remarkable young woman, with -strong powers of observation, and a decided aptitude for solid and sensible -conversation, which probably explained the coldness towards her of Maude and -Gertrude, who were not remarkable, except for fine complexions, and hair to -correspond, and whose talk was of the most vapid description, so far as he had -had the opportunity of observing.</p> - -<p>There was not much of importance in appearance to relate about the -occurrences of a day which was destined to be remembered as very important by -all who passed its hours at Woolgreaves. It had the usual features of a "long -day," spasmodic attacks of animation and lapses of weariness, a great deal of -good eating and drinking, much looking at pictures and parade-books, some real -gratification, and not a little imperfectly disguised fatigue. It differed in -one respect, however, from the usual history of a "long day." There was one -person who was not glad when it came to an end. That person was Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>Poor Mrs. Ashurst had found her visit to Woolgreaves much more endurable than -she expected. She had indeed found it almost pleasurable. She had been -amused--the time had passed, the young ladies had been kind to her. She praised -them to Marian.</p> - -<p>"They are nice creatures," she said; "really tender-hearted and sincere. Of -course, they are not clever like you, my dear; but then all girls cannot be -expected to be <i>that</i>."</p> - -<p>"They are very fortunate," said Marian, moodily. "Just think of the safe and -happy life they lead. Living like that <i>is</i> living; <i>we</i> only exist. -They have no want for the present; no anxiety for the future. Everything they -see and touch, all the food they eat, everything they wear means money."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Ashurst; "and after all, money is a great thing. Not, -indeed," she added, with tears in her eyes, "that I could care much for it now, -for it could not, if we had it, restore what we have lost."</p> - -<p>"No," said Marian, frowning, "but it could have saved us from losing it; it -could have preserved love and care, home, position, and happiness to us. True, -mother, money is a great thing."</p> - -<p>But Marian's mother was not listening to her. Her mind had returned to its -familiar train of thought again.</p> - -<p>Something had been said that day about Mrs. Ashurst's paying Woolgreaves a -longer visit, going for a week or two, of course accompanied by Marian. Mrs. -Ashurst had not decidedly accepted or negatived the proposition. She felt rather -nervous about it herself, and uncertain as to Marian's sentiments, and her -daughter had not aided her by word or look. Nor did Marian recur to the subject -when she found themselves at home again in the evening. But she remembered it, -and discussed it with herself in the night. Would it be well that her mother -should be habituated to the comforts, the luxuries of such a house, so -unattainable to her at home, so desirable in her state of broken health and -spirits? This was the great difficulty which beset Marian, and she felt she -could not decide it then.</p> - -<p>Her long waking reverie of that night did not concern itself with the people -she had been with. It was fully occupied with the place. Her mind mounted from -floor to floor of the handsome house, which represented so much money, reviewing -and appraising the furniture, speculating on the separate and collective value -of the plate, the mirrors, the hangings, the decorations. Thousands and -thousands of pounds, she thought, hundreds and hundreds of times more money than -she had ever seen, and nothing to do for it all. Those girls who lived among it, -what had they done that they should have all of it? Why had she, whose mother -needed it so much, who could so well appreciate it, none of it? Marian's last -thought 'before she fell asleep that night was, not only that money was a great -thing, but that almost anything would be worth doing to get money.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> -<h5>BREAD-SEEKING.</h5> -<br> - -<p>There are few streets in London better known to that large army of martyrs, -the genteelly poor, than those which run northward from the Strand, and are lost -in the two vast tracts of brick known under the name of Covent Garden and Drury -Lane. Lodging-house keepers do not affect these streets, preferring the narrow -no-thoroughfares on the other side of the Strand, abutting on the river, streets -eternally ringing with the hoarse voice of the costermonger, who descends on one -side and ascends on the other, eternally echoing to the grinding of the -organ-man, who gets through his entire <i>répertoire</i> twice over during his -progress to the railing overlooking the Embankment, and his return to the -pickle-shop at the top, eternally haunted by the beer-boy and the newspaper-boy, -by postmen infuriated with wrongly addressed letters, and by luggage-laden cabs. -In the streets bearing northward no costermonger screams and no organ is found; -the denizens are business-people, and would very soon put a stop to any such -attempt.</p> - -<p>Business, and nothing but business, in that drab-coloured house with the high -wire-blinds in the window, over which you can just catch a glimpse of the top of -a hanging white robe. Cope and Son are the owners of the drab-coloured house, -and Cope and Son are the largest retailers of clerical millinery in London. All -day long members of "the cloth," sleek, pale, emaciated, high-church curates, -stout, fresh-coloured, huge-whiskered, broad-church rectors, fat, pasty-faced, -straight-haired evangelical ministers, are pouring into Cope and Son's for -clothes, for hoods, for surplices, for stoles, for every variety of -ecclesiastical garment. Cope and Son supply all, in every variety, for every -sect; the M.B. waistcoat and stiff-collared coat reaching to his heels in which -the Honourable and Reverend Cyril Genuflex looks so imposing, as he, before the -assembled vestry, defies the scrutiny of his evangelical churchwarden; the -pepper-and-salt cutaway in which the Reverend Pytchley Quorn follows the hounds; -the black-stuff gown in which the Reverend Locock Congreve perspires and groans -as he deals out denunciations of those sitting under him; and the purple bed -gown, turned up with yellow satin, and worked all over with crosses and -vagaries, in which poor Tom Phoole, such a kind-hearted and such a soft-headed -vessel, goes through his ritualistic tricks,--all these come from the -establishment of Cope and Son's, in Rutland Street, Strand.</p> - -<p>The next house on the right is handy for the high-church clergymen, though -the evangelicals shut their eyes and turn away their heads as they pass by it. -Here Herr Tubelkahn, from Elberfeld, the cunning worker in metals, the artificer -of brass and steel and iron, and sometimes of gold and silver, the great -ecclesiastical upholsterer, has set up his Lares and Penates, and here he deals -in the loveliest of mediaevalisms and the choicest of renaissance wares. The -sleek long-coated gentry who come to make purchases can scarcely thread their -way through the heterogeneous contents of Herr Tubelkahn's shop. All massed -together without order; black oaken chairs, bought up by Tubelkahn's agents from -occupants of tumbledown old cottages in midland districts, crosiers and -crucifixes, ornate and plain, from Elberfeld, sceptres and wands from Solingen, -lecterns in the shape of enormous brazen eagles with outstretched wings from -Birmingham, enormous candelabra and gaseliers of Gothic pattern from Liège, and -sculptured pulpits and carved altar-rails from the Curtain Road, Shoreditch. -Altar-cloths hang from the tables, and altar-carpets, none of your common -loom-woven stuff, but hand-worked and--as Herr Tubelkahn gives you to -understand--by the fairest fingers, are spread about to show their patterns to -the best advantage, while there is so much stained glass about ready for -immediate transfer to the oriel windows of country churches, that when the sun -shines, Herr Tubelkahn's customers seem to be suddenly invested with Joseph's -garment of many colours, and the whole shop lights up like a kaleidoscope.</p> - -<p>Many of the customers, both of Messrs. Cope and Tubelkahn, were customers, -or, more euphuistically, clients, of Messrs. Camoxon, who kept the celebrated -Clerical and Educational Registry higher up the street; but these customers and -clients invariably crossed and recrossed the road, in proceeding from the one to -the other of these establishments, in order to avoid a certain door which lay -midway between them. A shabby swing-door, sun-blistered, and with its bottom -panel scored with heel and toe kicks from impatient entrance-seeking feet; a -door flanked by two flaming bills, and surrounded by a host of close-shaven, -sallow-faced men, in shabby clothes and shiny hats, and red noses and swinging -canes, noble Romans, roistering cavaliers, clamorous citizens, fashionable -guests, virtuous peasants--all at a shilling a night; for the door was, in fact, -the stage-door of the Cracksideum Theatre. The shabby men in threadbare -jauntiness smiled furtively, and grinned at each other as they saw the sleek -gentlemen in shining broad-cloth step out of their path; but the said gentlemen -felt the proximity of the Thespian temple very acutely, and did not scruple to -say so to Messrs. Camoxon, who, as in duty bound, shrugged their shoulders -deprecatingly, and--changed the conversation. They were very sorry, but--and -they shrugged their shoulders. When men shrug their shoulders to their customers -it is time that they should retire from business. It was time that the Messrs. -Camoxon so retired, for the old gentleman now seldom appeared in Rutland Street, -but remained at home at Wimbledon, enacting his favourite character of the -British squire, and actually dressing the part in a blue coat and gilt buttons, -gray knee-breeches, and Hessian boots; while young George Camoxon hunted with -the Queen's hounds, had dined twice at the Life Guards' mess at Windsor, and had -serious thoughts of standing for the county.</p> - -<p>But the business was far too good to give up; every one who had a -presentation or an advowson to sell took it to Camoxons'; the head clerk could -tell you off-hand the net value of every valuable living in England, the age of -the incumbent, and the state of his health. Every rector who wanted assistance, -every curate who wanted a change, in servants' phrase, "to better himself," -every layman who wanted a title for orders, every vicar who, oddly enough, -wanted to change a dull, bleak living in the north for a pleasant social sphere -of duty in a cheerful neighbourhood in the south of England; parents on the -lookout for tutors, tutors in search of pupils--all inscribed their names on -Camoxon's books, and looked to him for assistance in their extremity. There was -a substantial, respectable, orthodox appearance about Camoxons', in the -ground-glass windows, with the device of the Bible and Sceptre duly inscribed -thereon; in the chaste internal fittings of polished mahogany and plain -horsehair stools, with the Churchman's Almanack on the wall in mediaeval type, -very illegible, and in a highly mediaeval frame, all bosses and clamps; in the -big ledgers and address-books, and in the Post-office Directory, which here shed -its truculent red cover, and was scarcely recognisable in a meek sad-coloured -calf binding; and, above all, in the grave, solemn, sable-clad clerks, who moved -noiselessly about, and who looked like clergymen playing at business.</p> - -<p>Up and down Rutland Street had Walter Joyce paced full a thousand times since -his arrival in London. The name of the street and of its principal inhabitants -was familiar to him through the advertisements in the clerical newspaper which -used to be sent to Mr. Ashurst at Helmingham; and no sooner was he settled down -in his little lodging in Winchester Street than he crossed the mighty artery of -the Strand, and sought out the street and the shops of which he had already -heard so much. He saw them, peered in at Copes', and at Tubelkahn's, and looked -earnestly at Camoxons' ground-glass window, and half thought of going in to see -whether they had anything which might suit him on their books. But he refrained -until he had received the answers to a certain advertisement which he had -inserted in the newspaper, setting forth that a young man with excellent -testimonials--he knew he could get them from the rector of Helmingham--was -desirous of giving instruction in the classics and mathematics. Advertising, he -thought, was a better and more gentlemanly medium than causing a detailed list -of his accomplishments to be inscribed in the books of the Ecclesiastical -Registry, as a horse's pedigree and performances are entered in the -horsedealer's list; but when, after hunting for half an hour through the columns -of the newspaper's supplement, he found his advertisement amongst a score of -others, all of them from men with college honours, or promising greater -advantages than he could hold forth, he began to doubt the wisdom of his -proceeding. However, he would wait and see the result. He did so wait for three -days, but not a single line addressed, as requested, to W.J. found its way to -Winchester Street. Then he sent for the newspaper again, and began to reply to -the advertisements which he thought might suit him. He had no high thoughts or -hopes, no notions of regenerating the living generation, or of placing tuition -on a new footing, or rendering it easy by some hitherto unexplained process. He -had been an usher in a school; for the place of an usher in a school he had -advertised; and if he could have obtained that position he would have been -contented. But when the few answers to his advertisement arrived, he saw that it -was impossible to accept any of the offers they contained. One man wanted him to -teach French with a guaranteed Parisian accent, to devote his whole time out of -school-hours to the boys, to supervise them in the Indian-sceptre athletic -exercises, and to rule over a dormitory of thirteen, "where, in consequence of -the lax supervision of the last didaskolos, severe measures would be required," -for twenty pounds a year. Another gentleman, whose notepaper was ornamented with -a highly florid Maltese cross, and who dated his letter "Eve of S. Boanerges," -wished to know his opinion of the impostor-firebrand M. Luther, and whether he -(the advertiser) had any connections in the florist or decorative line, with -whom an arrangement in the mutual-accommodation way could be entered into; while -a third, evidently a grave sententious man, with a keen eye to business, -expressed, on old-fashioned Bath-post, gilt-edged letter-paper, his desire to -know "what sum W.J. would be willing to contribute for the permission to state, -after a year's residence, that he had been one of Dr. Sumph's most trusted -helpmates and assistants."</p> - -<p>No good to be got that way, then, and a visit to Camoxons' imminent, for the -money was running very, very short, and the conventional upturning of stones, by -no means leaving one in its normal position, must be proceeded with. Visit to -Camoxon's paid, after much staring through the ground-glass window (opaque -generally, but transparent in the Bible and Sceptre artistic bits), much ascent -and descent of two steps cogitatively, final rush up top step wildly, and -hurried, not to say pantomimic, entrance through the ground-glass door, to be -confronted by the oldest and most composed of the sable-clad clerks. Bows -exchanged; name and address required; name and address given in a low and -serious whisper, and repeated aloud in a clear high treble, each word as it was -uttered being transcribed in a hand which was the very essence of copperplate -into an enormous book. Position required? Second or third mastership in a -classical school, private tutorship, as secretary or librarian to a nobleman or -gentleman. So glibly ran the old gentleman's steel pen over these items that -Walter Joyce began to fancy that applicants for one post were generally ready -and willing to take all or any, as indeed they were. "Which University, what -college?" The old gentleman scratched his head with the end of his steel -penholder, and looked across at Walter, with a benevolent expression which -seemed to convey that he would rather the young man would say Christchurch than -St. Mary's, and Trinity in preference to Clare Hall. Walter Joyce grew hot to -his ear-tips, and his tongue felt too large for his mouth, as he stammered out, -"I have not been to either University--I----" but the remainder of the sentence -was lost in the loud bang with which the old gentleman clapped-to the heavy -sides of the big book, clasped it with its brazen clasp, and hoisted it on to a -shelf behind him with the dexterity of a juggler.</p> - -<p>"My good young friend," said the old clerk blandly, "you might have saved -yourself a vast amount of vexation, and me a certain amount of trouble, if you -had made that announcement earlier! Good morning!"</p> - -<p>"But do you mean to say----"</p> - -<p>"I mean to say that in that book at the present moment are the names of sixty -gentlemen seeking just the employment which you have named, all of whom are not -merely members of colleges, but members who have taken rank--prizemen, -first-class men, wranglers, senior optimes; they are on our books, and they may -remain there for months before we get them off. You may judge, then, what chance -you would have. At most agencies they would have taken your money and given you -hope. But we don't do that here--it isn't our way. Good morning!"</p> - -<p>"Then you think I have no chance----"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure of it--through us, at least. Good morning!"</p> - -<p>Joyce would have made another effort, but the old gentleman had already -turned on his heel, and feigned to be busy with some letters on a desk before -him, so Walter turned round too, and silently left the registry-office.</p> - -<p>Silently, and with an aching heart. The old clerk had said but little, but -Walter felt that his dictum was correct, and that all hopes of getting a -situation as a tutor were at an end. Oh, if his father had only left him money -enough to go to college, he would have had a future before him which---- But -then, Marian? He would never have known that pure, faithful, earnest love, -failing which, life in its brightest and best form would have been dull and -distasteful to him. He had that love still, thank Heaven, and in that thought -there were the elements of hope, and the promptings to bestir himself yet once -more in his hard, self-appointed task of bread-winning.</p> - -<p>Money running very short, and time running rapidly on. Not the shortest step -in advance since he had first set foot in London, and the bottom of his purse -growing painfully visible. He had taken to frequenting a small coffee-house in -the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, as he munched the roll and drank the -tea which now too often served him as a dinner, he could read the newspapers, -and scan the advertisements to see if there were anything likely to suit him -among the myriad columns. It was a quiet and secluded little place, where but -few strangers entered; he saw the same faces night after night, as he -noticed--and where he could have his letters addressed to him under his -initials, which was a great comfort, as he had noticed lately that his landlady -in his riverside lodging-house had demurred to the receipt of so much initialed -correspondence, ascribing it, as Walter afterwards learned from the "slavey," or -maid-of-all-work, either to "castin' 'orryscopes, tellin' charickters by -'andwritin', or rejen'rative bolsum for the 'air!"--things utterly at variance -with the respectability of her establishment.</p> - -<p>A quiet, secluded little place, sand-floored and spittoon-decorated, with a -cosy clock, and a cosy red-faced fire, singing with steaming kettles, and -cooking chops, and frizzling bacon, with a sleepy cat, a pet of the customers, -dozing before the hearth, and taking occasional quarter-of-an-hour turns round -the room, to be back-rubbed and whisker-scratched, and tit-bit fed, with tea and -coffee and cocoa, in thick blue china half-pint mugs, and with bacon in which -the edge was by no means to be cut off and thrown away, but was thick, and -crisp, and delicious as the rest of it, on willow-pattern plates, with little -yellow pats of country butter, looking as if the cow whose impressed form they -bore had only fed upon buttercups, as different from the ordinary petrified cold -cream which in London passes current for butter as chalk from cheese. -"Bliffkins's"--the house was supposed to have been leased to Bliffkins as the -Elephant, and appeared under that title in the Directories; but no one knew it -but as Bliffkins's--was a Somersetshire house, and kept a neat placard framed -and glazed in its front window to the effect that the <i>Somerset County Gazette</i> -was taken in. So that among the thin, pale London folk who "used" the house you -occasionally came upon stalwart giants, big-chested, horny-handed, deep-voiced, -with z's sticking out all over their pronunciation, jolly Zummerzetshire men, -who brought Bliffkins the latest gossip from his old native place of Bruton and -its neighbourhood, and who, during their stay--and notably at cattle-show -period--were kings of the house. At ordinary times, however, the frequenters of -the house never varied--indeed, it was understood that Bliffkins's was a -"connection," and did not in the least depend upon chance custom. Certain people -sat in certain places, ordered certain refreshment, and went away at certain -hours, never varying in the slightest particular. Mr. Byrne, a wizened old man, -who invariably bore on his coat and on his hair traces of fur and fluff and -wool, who was known to be a bird-stuffer by trade, and an extreme Radical in -politics, and who was reputed to be the writer of some of those spirit-stirring -letters in the weekly press signed "Lucius Junius Brutus" and "Scrutator," sat -in the right-hand corner box nearest the door, where he was out of the draught, -and had the readiest chance of pouncing upon the boy who brought in the evening -papers, and securing them before his rival, Mr. Wickwar, could effect a seizure. -Mr. Wickwar, who was a retired tailor, and had plenty of means, the sole bane of -his life being the danger to the Constitution from the recklessly advanced -feeling of the times, sat at the other end of the room, being gouty and -immobile, contented himself with glaring at his democratic enemy, and -occasionally withering him with choice extracts from the <i>Magna Charta</i> -weekly journal. The box between them was usually devoted of an evening to -Messrs. O'Shane and Begson, gentlemen attached to the press, capital company, -full of anecdote and repartee, though liable to be suddenly called away in the -exigence of their literary pursuits. The top of the policeman's helmet or the -flat cap of the fireman on duty just protruded through the swing-door in this -direction acted as tocsins to these indefatigable public servants, cut them off -in the midst of a story, and sent them flying on the back of an engine, or at -the tail of a crowd, to witness scenes which, portrayed by their graphic -pencils, afforded an additional relish to the morning muffin at thousands of -respectable breakfast-tables. Between these gentlemen and a Mr. Shimmer, a -youngish man, with bright eyes, hectic colour, and a general sense of nervous -irritation, there was a certain spirit of <i>camaraderie</i> which the other -frequenters of Bliffkins's could not understand. Mr. Shimmer invariably sat -alone, and during his meal habitually buried himself in one of the choice -volumes of Bliffkins's library, consisting of old volumes of Blackwood's, -Bentley's, and Tait's magazines, from which he would occasionally make extracts -in a very small hand in a very small note-book. It was probably from the fact of -a printer's boy having called at Bliffkins's with what was understood to be a -"proof," that a rumour arose and was received throughout the Bliffkins's -connection that Mr. Shimmer edited the <i>Times</i> newspaper. Be that as it -might, there was no doubt, both from external circumstances and from the -undefined deference paid to him by the other gentlemen of the press, that Mr. -Shimmer was a literary man of position, and that Bliffkins held him in respect, -and, what was more practical for him, gave him credit on that account. An -ex-parish clerk, who took snuff and sleep in alternate pinches; a potato -salesmen in Covent Garden, who drank coffee to keep himself awake, and who went -briskly off to business when the other customers dropped off wearily to bed; a -"professional" at an adjoining bowling-alley, who would have been a pleasant -fellow had it not been for his biceps, which got into his head and into his -mouth, and pervaded his conversation; and a seedsman, a terrific republican, who -named his innocent bulbs and hyacinths after the most sanguinary heroes of the -French revolution,--filled up the list of Bliffkins's "regulars."</p> - -<p>Among these quiet people Walter Joyce took up his place night after night, -until he began to be looked upon as of and belonging to them. They were -intolerant of strangers at Bliffkins's, of strangers, that is to say, who, -tempted by the comforts of the place, renewed their visits, and threatened to -make them habitual. These were for the most part received at about their third -appearance, when they came in with a pleasant smile and thought they had made an -impression, with a strong stare and a dead silence, under the influences of -which they ordered refreshment which they did not want, had to pay for, and went -away without eating, amid the contemptuous grins of the regulars. But Walter -Joyce was so quiet and unobtrusive, so evidently a gentleman desirous of peace -and shelter and refuge at a cheap-rate, that the great heart of Bliffkins's -softened to him at once; they themselves had known the feelings under which he -sought the asylum of that Long-Acre Patmos, and they respected him. No one spoke -to him, there was no acknowledgment of his presence among them; they knew well -enough that any such manifestation would have been out of place; but when, after -finishing his very simple evening meal, he would take a few sheets of paper from -his pocket, draw to him the <i>Times</i> -supplement, and, constantly referring to it, commence writing a series of -letters, they knew what all that portended, and all of them, including old -Wickwar, the ex-tailor and great Conservative, silently wished him Godspeed.</p> - -<p>Ah, those letters, dated from Bliffkins's coffee-house, and written in Walter -Joyce's roundest hand, in reply to the hundred of chances which each day's -newspaper-sheet offered to every enterprising bread-seeker, chances so promising -at the first glance, so barren and so full of rottenness when they came to be -tested! Clerkships? clerkships in galore! legal, mercantile, general clerks were -wanted everywhere, only apply to A.B. or Y.Z., and take them! But when A. B. or -Y. Z. replied, Walter Joyce found that the legal clerks must write the regular -engrossing hand, must sweep out the office ready for the other clerks by nine -a.m., and must remain there occasionally till nine p.m., with a little outdoor -work in the service of writs and notices of ejectment. The duties required of -the mercantile clerk were but little better, and those of the general clerks -were worst of all, while throughout a net income of eighteen shillings a week -appeared to be the average remuneration. "A secretary wanted?" certainly, four -secretaries wanted nearly every day, to public companies which were about to -bring forth an article in universal demand, but of which the supply had hitherto -been limited, and which could not fail to meet with an enormous success and -return a large dividend. In all cases the secretary must be a man of education -and of gentlemanly manners, so said the advertisements; but the reply to Walter -Joyce's application said in addition that he must be able to advance the sum of -three hundred pounds, to be invested in the shares of the company, which would -bear interest at the rate of twenty-five per cent, per annum. The Press? through -the medium of their London fraternity the provincial press was clamorous for -educated men who could write leading articles, general articles, and reviews; -but on inquiry the press required the same educated men to be able to combine -shorthand reporting with editorial writing, and in many cases suggested the -advisability of the editorial writer being able to set up his own leaders in -type at case. The literary institutions throughout the country were languishing -for lecturers; but when Walter Joyce wrote to them, offering them a choice of -certain subjects which he had studied, and on which he thought himself competent -of conveying real information, he received answers from the secretaries, that -only men of name were paid by the institutions, but that the committee would be -happy to set apart a night for him if he chose to lecture gratis, or that if he -felt inclined to address the inhabitants of Knuckleborough on his own account, -the charge for the great hall was three pounds, for the smaller hall thirty -shillings a night, in both cases exclusive of gas, while the secretary, who kept -the principal stationer's shop and library in the town, would be happy to become -his agent, and sell his tickets at the usual charge of ten per cent. Four pounds -a week, guaranteed! Not a bad income for a penniless man! to be earned, too, in -the discharge of a light and gentlemanly occupation, to be acquired by the -outlay of three shillings' worth of postage stamps. Walter Joyce sent the -postage stamps, and received in return a lithographic circular, vary dirty about -the folded edges, instructing him in the easiest method of modelling wax -flowers!</p> - -<p>That was the final straw. On the receipt of that letter, or rather on the -reading of it--he had taken it from the stately old looking-glass over the -fireplace to the box where of late he usually sat--Walter Joyce gave a deep -groan, and buried his face in his hands. A minute after he felt his hair -slightly touched, and looking up, saw old Jack Byrne bending over him.</p> - -<p>"What ails ye, lad?" asked the old man tenderly.</p> - -<p>"Misery--despair--starvation!"</p> - -<p>"I thought so!" said the old man calmly. Then taking a small battered flask -from his breast and emptying its contents into a clean cup before him--"Here, -drink this, and come outside. We can't talk here!"</p> - -<p>Walter swallowed the contents of the cup mechanically, and followed his new -friend into the street.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER <a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">VII.</a></h4> -<h5>A NEW FRIEND.</h5> -<br> - -<p>When they stood in the street, with the fresh night-wind blowing upon them, -the old man stopped, and, peering anxiously into his companion's face, said -abruptly--</p> - -<p>"Better?"</p> - -<p>"Much better, thank you; quite well, in fact. There's no occasion for me to -trouble you any more; I----"</p> - -<p>"What? All gaff, eh? Old Jack Byrne sold, eh? Swallowed his brandy, and want -to cut--is that the caper?"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, I don't quite clearly understand you, I'm sorry to -say"--for Walter knew by the tone of his voice that the old man was -annoyed--"I'm very weak and rather stupid--I mean to say, in--in the ways and -the talk of London--and I don't clearly follow what you said to me just now; -only you were so kind to me at first, that----"</p> - -<p>"Provinces!" muttered the old man to himself. "Just like me; treating him to -my pavement patter, and thinking he understood it! All right, I think, as far as -one can judge, though God knows that's often wrong enough!" Then, aloud, "Kind! -nonsense! I'm an odd old skittle, and talk an odd language; but I've seen the -ups and downs of life, my lad, and can give you good advice if I can't give -anything else. Have you anything to do to-night? Nothing? Sure I'm not keeping -you from the Opera, or any swell party in Park Lane? No! Then come home with me -and have a bit o' pickled salmon and a glass of cold gin-and-water, and let's -talk matters out."</p> - -<p>Before he had concluded his sentence, the old man had slipped Joyce's arm -through his own, and was making off at a great rate, and also with an -extraordinary shamble, in which his shoulder appeared to act as a kind of -cutwater, while his legs followed considerably in the rear. Walter held on to -him as best he could, and in this fashion they made their way through the back -streets, across St. Martin's Lane, and so into Leicester Square. Then, as they -arrived in front of a brilliantly lighted establishment, at the door of which -cabs laden with fashionably dressed men and gaudily dressed women were -continually disgorging their loads, while a never-ceasing stream of pedestrians -poured in from the street, Jack Byrne came to a sudden halt, and said to his -companion----</p> - -<p>"Now I'm going to enjoy myself!"</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce had noticed the style of people pouring in through the -turnstiles and paying their admission money at the brilliantly lit boxes; and as -he heard these words he unconsciously drew back. You see, he was but a -country-bred young man, and had not yet been initiated into the classical -enjoyments of London life. Jack Byrne felt the tug at his arm, and looked at him -curiously.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" said he. "You thought I was going in there? I? Oh, my dear -young friend, you'll have to learn a great deal yet; but you're on the -suspicious lay, and that's a chalk to you! You thought I'd hocussed the brandy I -gave you at Bliffkins's; you thought I was going to take you into this devil's -crib, did you? Not I, my dear boy; I'd as soon take you in as myself, and that's -saying a good deal. No; I told you I was going to enjoy myself--so I am. My -enjoyment is in watching that door, and marking those who go through it, not in -speculating on what's going on inside, but in waiting for the end, my young -friend--in waiting for the end! Oh yes, jump out of your brougham, my Lord -Tomnoddy; but don't split your lavender gloves in attempting to close the door -behind you--the cad will do that, of course! Beautiful linen, white as snow, and -hair all stuck close to his head, look. But mark his forehead--what's your -name--Joyce? Mark his forehead, Joyce; see how it slopes straight away back. -Look at that noble space between his nose and his upper lip--the ape type, my -friend--the ape type! That's one of your hereditary rulers, Joyce, my boy! That -fellow sits and votes for you and me, bless him! He's gone in now to improve his -mind with the literature of comic songs, and the legs of the ballet, and the -fascinations of painted Jezebels, and to clear his brain with drinks of -turpentine and logwood shavings! And that's one of our hereditary legislators! -Oh, Lord, how much longer--how much longer!"</p> - -<p>The policeman on duty at the door, whose mission it was to keep the pathway -clear, now sallied forth from the portico and promenaded in the little crowd, -gently pushing his way amongst them with a monotonous cry of "Move on, there, -please--move on!" Joyce noticed that his companion regarded this policeman with -a half-defiant, half-pitying air, and the old man said to him, as they resumed -their walk--</p> - -<p>"That's another of the effects of our blessed civilization! That gawk in -blucher boots and a felt helmet--that machine in a shoddy great-coat, who can -scarcely tell B from a bull's foot, and yet has the power to tell you and me and -other men, who pay for the paving-rate--ay, and for the support of such scum as -he is, for the matter of that--to move on! Suppose you think I'm a rum un, eh?" -said Mr. Byrne, suddenly changing his voice of disgust into a bantering tone. -"Not seen many like me before; don't want to see any more, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"I don't say that," said Joyce, with a half smile; "but I confess the -sentiments are new to me, and----"</p> - -<p>"Brought up in the country; my lord or the squire, eh? So pleased to receive -notice coming out of church, 'plucks the slavish hat from the villager's head,' -and all that! Sorry I've not a manorial hall to ask you into, but such as it is -you're welcome. Hold hard, here."</p> - -<p>The old man stopped before a private door in a small street of very small -shops running between Leicester Square and the Haymarket, took out a key, and -stood back for his companion to pass before him into a dark and narrow passage. -When the door was closed behind him, Mr. Byrne struck a light, and commenced -making his way up the narrow staircase. Joyce followed him flight after flight, -and past landing after landing, until at length the top story was reached. Then -Mr. Byrne took out another key, and, unlocking the door immediately in front of -him, entered the room and bade his companion follow him.</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce found himself in a long low room, with a truckle bed in one -corner, bookshelves ranged round three sides, and in the middle, over which the -curtains were now drawn, a large square table, with an array of knives and -scissors upon it, a heap of wool in one corner, and an open case of needles of -various kinds, polished bright and shining. On one end of the mantelpiece stood -a glass case containing a short-horned white owl, stuffed, and looking -wonderfully sagacious; on the other a cock, with full crop and beady eye, and -open bill, with one leg advanced, full of self-sufficiency and conceit. Over the -mantlepiece, in a long low case, was an admirably carried out bit of Byrne's -art, representing the death-struggles of a heron struck by a hawk. Both birds -were stuffed, of course, but the characteristics of each had been excellently -preserved; the delicate heron lay completely at the mercy of his active little -antagonist, whose "pounce" had evidently just been made, and who with beak and -talons was settling his prey.</p> - -<p>While Joyce was looking round at these things, the old man had lit a lamp -suspended from the ceiling, and another standing on the square work-table; had -opened a cupboard, and from it had produced a black bottle, two tumblers, and a -decanter of water; had filled and lit a mighty pipe, and had motioned his -companion to make free with the liquor and with the contents of an -ancient-looking tobacco-jar, which he pushed towards him.</p> - -<p>"Smoke, man!" said he, puffing out a thin line of vapour through his almost -closed lips, and fanning it away lazily with his hand--"smoke!--that's one thing -they can't keep from us, though they'd like. My lord should puff at his havannah -while the commonalty, the plebs, the <i>profanum vulgus</i>,who are hated and -driven away, should 'exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming weed!' Thank God we've -altered all that since poor John Philips's day; he'd get better change for his -Splendid Shilling now than ever he did in his time, eh? Talking Greek to you, am -I? or worse than Greek, for that you'd understand, I dare say, and you'll never -understand my old mutterings and quotations. You can read Greek?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Joyce said; "I am reckoned a tolerable Grecian."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said the old man, with a grin; "ah! no doubt you were an honour to -your college."</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately," said Walter, "I have never been to college."</p> - -<p>"Then your state is the more gracious! By George! I thought I'd picked up -with a sucking don, all trencher-cap, and second aorist, and Conservative -principles, Church and State, a big Bible with a sceptre stretched across it, -and a fear of the 'swart mechanics' bloody thumbs' printed off on my lord's -furniture, as provided by Messrs. Jackson and Graham! You don't follow me, young -fellow? Like enough, like enough. I think myself I'm a little enigmatical when I -get on my hobby, and it requires a good steady stare of honest wonderment, such -as I see on your face now, to bring me up short. I'm brought up short now, and -can attend to more sublunary matters, such as yours. Tell me about yourself."</p> - -<p>"What shall I tell you?" asked Joyce. "I can tell nothing beyond what you -already know, or can guess. I'm without friends, without work; I've lost -hope----"</p> - -<p>"No, no, my boy not lost, only mislaid it. We never lose hope so long as -we're good for anything! Sometimes, when I've been most depressed and down, -about the only thing in life that has any interest for me now--and you've no -idea what that is, have you, Joyce, eh?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed; unless, perhaps, your children!"</p> - -<p>"Children! Thank God, I never had a wife or a child to give me a care. No; -the People's cause, my boy, the People's cause! That's what I live for, and -sometimes, as I've been saying, I've been downhearted about that. I've seen the -blood beating us down on the one side, and the money beating us down on the -other, and I've thought that it was useless kicking against the pricks, and that -we had better cave in and give up!"</p> - -<p>"But you say you never lost hope?"</p> - -<p>"Never, entirely. When I've been at my lowest ebb, when I've come home here -with the blood in my veins tingling from aristocratic insult, and with worse -than that, contempt for my own fellow working-men surging up in my heart, I've -looked up at that case there over the mantelshelf, and my pluck's revived. -That's a fine bit of work, that is, done by an old pupil of mine, who worked his -soul out in the People's cause in '48, and died in a deep decline soon after. -But what a fancy the lad had! Look at that heron! Is not it for all the world -like one of your long, limp, yaw-yaw, nothing-knowing, nothing-doing young -swells? Don't you read 'used-up' in his delicate plumage, drooping wings, -lack-lustre eye? And remark how the jolly little hawk has got him! No breed -about him; keen of sight, swift of wing, active with beak and talon--that's all -he can boast of; but he's got the swell in his grip, mind you! And he's only a -prototype of what's to come!"</p> - -<p>The old man rose as he spoke, and taking the lamp from the table, raised it -towards the glass case. As he set it down again he looked earnestly at Joyce, -and said--</p> - -<p>"You think I'm off my head, perhaps--and I'm not sure that I'm not when I get -upon this topic--and you're thinking that at the first convenient opportunity -you'll slip away, with a 'Thank ye!' and leave the old lunatic to his democratic -ravings? But, like many other lunatics, I'm only mad on one subject, and when -that isn't mentioned I can converse tolerably rationally, can perhaps even be of -some use in advising one friendless and destitute. And you, you say, are both."</p> - -<p>"I am, indeed; but I scarcely think you can help me, Mr. Byrne, though I -don't for an instant doubt your friendship or your wish to be of service. But it -happens that the only people from whom I can hope to get anything in the way of -employment, employment that brings money, belong to that class against which you -have such violent antipathies, the--the 'swells,' as you call them."</p> - -<p>"My dear young fellow, you mistake me. If you do as I should like you, as an -honest Englishman with a freeman's birthright, to do; if you do as I myself--old -Jack Byrne, one of the prisoners of '48; 'Bitter Byrne,' as they call me at the -club--if you do as I do, you'll hate the swells with all your heart, but you'll -use 'em. When I was a young man, young and foolish, blind and headstrong, as all -young men are, I wouldn't take off my cap to a swell, wouldn't take a swell's -orders, wouldn't touch a swell's money! Lord bless you, I saw the folly of that -years ago! I should have been starved long since if I hadn't. My business is -bird-stuffing, as you may have heard or guessed; and where should I have been if -I'd had to live upon all the orders for bird-stuffing I got from the labouring -classes? They can't stuff themselves enough, let alone their birds! The swells -want owls, and hawks, and pheasants, and what not, stuffed with outspread wings -for fire-screens, but the poor people want the fire itself, and want it so badly -that they never holloa for screens, and wouldn't use 'em if they had 'em. No, -no; hate the swells, my boy, but use 'em. What have you been?"</p> - -<p>"An usher in a school."</p> - -<p>"Of course! I guessed it would be some of those delightful occupations for -which the supply is unlimited and the demand nothing, but I scarcely thought it -could be so bad as that! Usher in a school! hewer in a coal-pit, stone-breaker -on a country road, horse in a mill, anything better than that!"</p> - -<p>"What could I do?"</p> - -<p>"What could you do? Sell your books, pawn your watch, take a steerage passage -and go out to Australia. Black boots, tend sheep, be cad to an omnibus, or -shopwalker to a store out there; every one of 'em better than dragging on in the -conventional torture of this played-out staggering old country! That's gassy a -little, you'll think, and so it is; but I mean better than that. I've -long-standing and intimate connections with the Zoological Acclimatisation -Society in Melbourne, and if you can pay your passage out, I'll guarantee that, -in the introductions I give you, they'll find you something to do. If you <i> -can't</i> find the money for your passage out, perhaps it can be found for you!"</p> - -<p>Not since James Ashurst's death, not for some weeks before that event, -indeed, when the stricken man had taken leave of his old pupil and friend, had -Walter Joyce heard the words of friendship and kindness from any man. Perhaps, a -little unmanned by the disappointment and humiliation he had undergone since his -arrival in London, he was a little unmanned at this speech from his newly found -friend; at all events, the tears stood in his eyes, and his voice was husky as -he replied--</p> - -<p>"I ought to be very much obliged to you, and indeed, indeed I am; but I fear -you'll think me an ungrateful cub when I tell you that I can't possibly go away -from England. Possibly is a strong word, but I mean, that I can't think of it -until I've exhausted every means, every chance of obtaining the barest -livelihood here!"</p> - -<p>The old man eyed him from under his bent brows earnestly for a moment, and -then said abruptly, "Ties, eh? father?"</p> - -<p>"No!" said Joyce, with a half blush--very young, you see, and country -bred--"as both my mother and father are dead, but--but there is----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lord!" grunted Mr. Byrne, "of course there is; there always is in such -cases! Blind old bat I was not to see it at first! Ah, she was left lamenting, -and all the rest of it; quite knocks the Australian idea on the head? Now let me -think what can be done for you here! There's Buncombe and Co., the publishers, -want a smart young man, smart and cheap they said in their letter, to contribute -to their new Encyclopaedia, the Naturalist. That'll be one job for you, though -it won't be much."</p> - -<p>"But, Mr. Byrne," said Joyce, "I have no knowledge, or very little, of -natural history. Certainly not enough to----"</p> - -<p>"Not too much to prevent your being too proud to take a hint or two from -Goldsmith's <i>Animated Nature</i>,my boy, as he took several from those who -preceded him. That, and a German book or two you'll find on the shelves--you -understand German? that's right--will help you to all the knowledge Buncombe -will require of you, or all they ought to expect, for the matter of that, at -ten-and-six the column. You can come here of a morning--you won't interfere with -me--and grind away until dark, when we'll have a walk and a talk; you shall tell -me all about yourself, and we'll see what more can be done, and then we'll have -some food at Bliffkins's and learn all that's going on!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know how to thank you," commenced Joyce.</p> - -<p>"Then don't attempt to learn!" said the old man. "Does it suit you, as a -beginning only, mind! do you agree to try it--we shall do better things yet, I -hope; but will you try it?"</p> - -<p>"I will indeed! If you only knew----"</p> - -<p>"I do: good night! I got up at daybreak, and ought to have been in bed long -since. Good night!"</p> - -<p>Not since he had been in London, had Walter Joyce been so light of heart as -when he closed Mr. Byrne's door behind him. Something to do at last! He felt -inclined to cry out for joy; he longed for some one to whom he could impart his -good fortune.</p> - -<p>His good fortune! As he sat upon his wretched bed in his tiny lodging, -luxurious words rang in his ears. "And the chance of achieving fame and fortune, -keep that in the foreground!" Fame and fortune! And he had been overjoyed -because he had obtained a chance of earning a few shillings as a bookseller's -hack, a chance for which he was indebted to a handicraftsman. But a poor first -step towards fame and fortune, Marian would think! He understood how utter had -been her inexperience and his own; he had learned the wide distance between the -fulfilment of such hopes as theirs, and the best of the bare possibilities which -the future held for them, and the pain which this knowledge brought him, more -for the sake of his own share in it, was doubly keen for hers. It was very hard -for Walter Joyce to have to suffer the terrible disappointment and -disenchantment of experience; but it was far harder for him to have to cause her -to share them. Marian would indeed think it a "poor first step." He little knew -how much more decisive a one she was about to take herself.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> -<h5>FLITTING.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Marian Ashurst dearly loved her home. To her concentrative and self-contained -nature local associations were peculiarly precious; the place in which she had -lived the life so essentially her own was very dear. The shabby old house, -though she perfectly understood its shabbiness, and would have prized the power -of renovating and adorning it as thoroughly as any <i>petite maîtresse</i> would -have prized the power of adorning her <i>bijou</i> residence with all the -prettiness of modern upholstery, was a shrine in her eyes. Base and unbeautiful, -but sacred, the place in which her father had dutifully and patiently passed his -laborious life--had it not been wasted? the proud discontented spirit asked -itself many a time, but found no voice to answer "no."</p> - -<p>She had often pictured to her fancy what the house might have been made, if -there had but been money to make it anything with, money to do anything with; if -only they had not always been so helpless, so burdened with the especially -painful load of genteel poverty. She had exercised her womanly ingenuity, put -forth her womanly tastes, so far as she could, and the house was better than -might have been expected under all the circumstances; but ingenuity and taste, -which double the effect of money when united to that useful agency, are not of -much avail without it, and will not supply curtains and carpet, paint, -varnishing, and general upholstery. There was not a superfluous ornament, and -there were many in the drawing-rooms at Woolgreaves very offensive to her -instinctively correct taste,--whose price would not have materially altered the -aspect of Marian Ashurst's home, as she had recognised with much secret -bitterness of spirit, on her first visit to the Creswells. She would have made -the old house pretty and pleasant, if she could, especially while he lived, to -whom its prettiness and pleasantness might have brought refreshment of spirit, -and a little cheerfulness in the surroundings of his toilsome life; but she -loved it, notwithstanding its dulness and its frigid shabbiness, and the -prospect of being obliged to leave it gave her exquisite pain. Marian was -surprised when she discovered that her feelings on this point were keener than -those of her mother. She had anticipated, with shrinking and reluctance of whose -intensity she felt ashamed, the difficulty she should experience when that last -worst necessity must arise, when her mother must leave the home of so many -years, and the scene of her tranquil happiness. Mrs. Ashurst had been a very -happy woman, notwithstanding her delicate health, and the difficulties it had -brought upon the little household. In the first place, she was naturally of a -placid temperament. In the second, her husband told her as little as possible of -the constantly pressing, hopelessly inextricable trouble of his life. And -lastly, Mrs. Ashurst's inexperience prevented her realising danger in the future -from any source except that one whence it had actually come, fallen in its -fullest, fatalmost might--the sickness and death of her husband.</p> - -<p>When that tremendous blow fell upon her, it stunned the widow. She could not -grieve, she could not care about anything else. She was not a woman of an -imaginative turn of mind; feeling had always been powerful and deep in her; but -fancy had ever been active, so that when the one awful and overwhelming fact -existed, it was quite enough for her, it swamped everything else, it needed not -to bring up any reinforcements to her discomfiture. She was ready to go anywhere -with Marian, to do anything which Marian advised or directed. The old house was -to be left, a new home was to be sought for. A stranger was coming to be the -master where her husband's firm but gentle rule had made itself loved, -respected, and obeyed for so long; a stranger was to sit in her husband's seat, -and move about the house where his step and his voice were heard no more, -listened for no longer, not even now, in the first confused moments of waking -after the blessed oblivion of sleep.</p> - -<p>And in that awful fact all was included. Poor Mrs. Ashurst cared little for -the linen and the china now. Whether they should be packed up and removed to the -humble lodgings which were to be the next home of herself and her daughter, or -whether Mr. Ashurst's successor should be asked to take them at a valuation, -were points which she left to Marian's decision. She had not any interest in -anything of the kind now. It was time that Marian's mind should be made up on -these and other matters; and the girl, notwithstanding her premature gravity and -her habit of decision, found her task difficult in fact and sentiment. Her -mother was painfully quiescent, hopelessly resigned. In every word and look she -expressed plainly that life had come to a standstill for her, that she could no -longer feel any interest or take any active part in its conduct; and thus she -depressed Marian very much, who had her own sense of impending disappointment -and imperative effort, in addition to their common sorrow, to struggle against.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ashurst and her daughter had seen a good deal of the family at -Woolgreaves since the day on which Marian's cherished belief in the value and -delight of wealth had been strengthened by that visit to the splendid dwelling -of her father's old friend. The young ladies had quite "taken to" Mrs. Ashurst, -and Mrs. Ashurst had almost "taken to" them. They came into Helmingham -frequently, and never without bringing welcome contributions from the large and -lavishly kept gardens at Woolgreaves. They tried, in many girlish and unskilful -ways, to be intimate with Marian; but they felt they did not succeed, and only -their perception of their uncle's wishes prevented their giving up the effort. -Marian was very civil, very much obliged for their kindness and attention; but -uncordial, "un-getatable," Maude Creswell aptly described it.</p> - -<p>The condition of Mr. Ashurst's affairs had not proved to be quite so -deplorable as had been supposed. There was a small insurance on his life; there -were a few trifling sums due to him, which the debtors made haste to pay, owing, -indeed, to the immediate application made to them by Mr. Creswell, who -interfered as actively as unostentatiously on behalf of the bereaved woman; -altogether a little sum remained, which would keep them above want, or the -almost equally painful effort of immediate exertion to earn their own living, <i> -with management</i>. Yes, that was the qualification which Marian understood -thoroughly, understood to mean daily and hourly self-denial, watchfulness, and -calculation, and more and worse than that--the termination on her part of the -hope of preventing her mother's missing the material comforts which had been -procured and preserved for her by a struggle whose weariness she had never been -permitted to comprehend.</p> - -<p>The old house had been shabby and poor, but it had been comfortable. It had -given them space and cleanliness, and there was no vulgarity in its meagreness. -But the only order of lodgings to which her mother and she could venture to -aspire was that which invariably combines the absence of space and of -cleanliness with the presence of tawdriness and discomfort. And this must last -until Walter should be able to rescue them from it. She could not suffice to -that rescue herself, but he would. He must succeed! Had he not every quality, -every facility, and the strongest of motives? She felt this--that, in her case, -the strongest motive would have been the desire for success, <i>per se</i>;but -in his the strongest was his love of her. She recognised this, she knew this, -she admired it in an odd abstract kind of way; when her heart was sufficiently -disengaged from pressing care to find a moment for any kind of joy, she rejoiced -in it; but she knew she could not imitate it--that was not in her. She had not -much experience of herself yet, and the process of self-analysis was not -habitual to her; but she felt instinctively that the more selfish instincts of -love were hers, its noble influences, its profounder motives her lover's.</p> - -<p>It was, then, to him she had to look, in him she had to trust, for the rescue -that was to come in time. In how much time? in how little? Ah, there was the -ever-present, ever-pressing question, and Marian brought to its perpetual -repetition all the importance, all the unreasonable measurement of time, all the -ignorance of its exceeding brevity and insignificance inseparable from her -youth.</p> - -<p>She had nearly completed the preparations for departure from the old home; -the few possessions left her and her mother were ready for removal; a lodging in -the village had been engaged, and the last few days were dragging themselves -heavily over the heads of Mrs. Ashurst and Marian, when Mr. Creswell, having -returned to Woolgreaves after a short absence, came to see them.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ashurst was walking in the neglected garden, and had reached the far end -of the little extent when Mr. Creswell arrived at the open door of the house. A -woman-servant, stolid and sturdy, was passing through the red-tiled square hall.</p> - -<p>"Is Mrs. Ashurst in?" asked the visitor. "Mrs. Ashurst is in the garden, I -see--don't disturb her."</p> - -<p>Marian, who had heard the voice, answered Mr. Creswell's question by -appearing on the threshold of the room which had been her father's study, and -which, since his death, her mother and she had made their sitting-room. She -looked weary; the too bright colour which fatigue brings to some faces was on -hers, and her eyelids were red and heavy; her black dress, which had the limp, -ungraceful, lustreless look of mourning attire too long unrenewed, hung on her -fine upright figure after a fashion which told how little the girl cared how she -looked; and the hand she first held out to Mr. Creswell, and then drew back with -a faint smile, was covered with dust.</p> - -<p>"I can't shake hands," she said; "I have been tying up the last bundles of -books and papers, and my hands are disgraceful. Come in here, Mr. Creswell; I -believe there is <i>one</i> unoccupied chair."</p> - -<p>He followed her into the study, and took the seat she pointed out, while she -placed herself on a pile of folios which lay on the floor in front of the low -wide window. Marian laid her arm upon the window-sill, and leaned her head back -against one of the scanty frayed curtains. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a -slight shudder passed over her.</p> - -<p>"You are very tired, Miss Ashurst, quite worn out," said Mr. Creswell; "you -have been doing too much--packing all those books, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Marian, "I looked to that myself, and, indeed, there was nobody -else to do it. But it is tiring work, and dirty,"--she struck her hands -together, and shook her dress, so that a shower of dust fell from it--"and sad -work besides. You know, Mr. Creswell"--here her face softened suddenly, and her -voice fell--"how much my father loved his books. It is not easy to say good-bye -to them; it is like a faint echo, strong enough to pain one, though, of the -good-bye to himself."</p> - -<p>"But why are you obliged to say good-bye to them?" asked Mr. Creswell, with -genuine anxiety and compassion.</p> - -<p>"What could we do with them?" said Marian; "there's no place to keep them. We -must have taken another room specially for them if we took them to our lodgings, -and there is no one to buy them here, so we are going to send them to London to -be sold. I suppose they will bring a very small sum indeed--nothing, perhaps, -when the expenses are paid. But it is our only means of disposing of them; so I -have been dusting and sorting and arranging them all day, and I am tired and -dusty and sick--sick at heart."</p> - -<p>Marian leaned her head on the arm which lay on the window-sill, and looked -very forlorn. She also looked very pretty, and Mr. Creswell thought so. This -softened mood, so unusual to her, became her, and the little touch of confidence -in her manner, equally unusual, flattered him. He felt an odd sort of difficulty -in speaking to her--to this young girl, his old friend's orphan child, one to -whom he intended so kindly, towards whom his position was so entirely one of -patronage, not in any offensive sense, of course, but still of patronage.</p> - -<p>"I--I never thought of this," he said hesitatingly; "I ought to have -remembered it, of course; no doubt the books must be a difficulty to you--a -difficulty to keep and a harder one to part with. But bless me, my dear Miss -Ashurst, you say there is no one here to buy them--you did not remember me? Why -did you not remember me? Of course I will buy them. I shall be only too -delighted to buy them, to have the books my good friend loved so much--of course -I shall."</p> - -<p>"I had seen your library at Woolgreaves," said Marian, replying to Mr. -Creswell's first impetuous question, "and I could not suppose you wanted more -books, or such shabby ones as these."</p> - -<p>"You judge of books like a lady, then, though you were your father's -companion as well as his pet," said Mr. Creswell, smiling. "Those shabby books -are, many of them, much more valuable than my well-dressed shelf-fillers. And -even if they were not, I should prize them for the same reason that you do, and -almost as much--yes, Miss Ashurst, almost as much. Men are awkward about saying -such things, but I may tell his daughter that but for James Ashurst I never -should have known the value of books--in other than a commercial sense, I mean."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what they are worth," said Marian, "but if you will find out, -and buy them, my mother and I will be very thankful. I know it will be a great -relief to her to think of them at Woolgreaves, and all together. She has fretted -more about my father's books being dispersed, and going into the hands of -strangers, than about any other secondary cause of sorrow. The other things she -takes quietly enough."</p> - -<p>The widow could be seen from the window by them both as she pursued her -monotonous walk in the garden, with her head bowed down and her figure so -expressive of feebleness.</p> - -<p>"Does she?" said Mr. Creswell. "I am very glad to hear that. Then"--and here -Mr. Creswell gave a little sigh of relief--"we will look upon the matter of the -books as arranged, and to-morrow I will send for them. Give yourself no further -trouble about them. Fletcher shall settle it all."</p> - -<p>"You will have them valued?" Marian asked with business-like seriousness.</p> - -<p>"Certainly," returned Mr. Creswell. "And now tell me what your plans are, and -where these lodgings are to which you alluded just now. Maude and Gertrude have -not seen you, they tell me, since you took them?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Marian, without the least tone of regret in her voice; "we have -not met since your visit to Manchester. Miss Creswell's cold has kept her at -home, and I have been much too busy to get so far as Woolgreaves."</p> - -<p>"Your mother has seen my nieces?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; Miss Gertrude Creswell called, and took her for a drive, and she -remained to lunch at Woolgreaves. But that was one day when I was -lodging-hunting--nothing had then been settled."</p> - -<p>"The girls are very fond of Mrs. Ashurst."</p> - -<p>"They are very kind," said Marian absently. The Misses Creswell were -absolutely uninteresting to her, and as yet Marian Ashurst had never pretended -to entertain a feeling she did not experience. The threshold of that particular -school of life in which the art of feigning is learned lay very near her feet -now, but they had not yet crossed it.</p> - -<p>Marian and Mr. Creswell remained a long time together before Mrs. Ashurst -came in. The girl spoke to the old gentleman with more freedom and with more -feeling than on any previous occasion of their meeting; and Mr. Creswell began -to think how interesting she was, in comparison with Maude and Gertrude, for -instance; how much sense she had, how little frivolity. How very good-looking -she was also; he had no idea she ever would have been so handsome--yes, -positively handsome--he used the word in his thoughts--she certainly had not -possessed anything like it when he had seen her formerly--a dark, prim, -old-fashioned kind of girl, going about her father's study with an air of quiet -appreciative sharpness and shrewdness which he did not altogether like. But she -really had become quite handsome then, in her poor dress, with her grieved, -tired face, her hair carelessly pushed off it any way, and her hands rough and -soiled; she had made him recognise and feel that she had the gift of beauty -also.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell thought about this when he had taken leave of Mrs. Ashurst and -Marian, having secured their promise to come to Woolgreaves on the day but one -after, when he hoped Marian would assist him in assigning places to the books, -which she felt almost reconciled to part with under these new conditions. He -thought about them a good deal, and tried to make out, among the dregs of his -memory, who it was who had said within his hearing, when Marian was a child, -"Yes, she's a smart little girl, sure enough, and a dead hand at a bargain."</p> - -<p>Marian Ashurst thought about Mr. Creswell after he left her and her mother. -Mrs. Ashurst was very much relieved and gratified by his kindness about the -books, as was Marian also. But the mother and daughter regarded the incident -from different points of view. Mrs. Ashurst dwelt on the kindness of heart which -dictated the purchase of the dead friend's books as at once a tribute to the old -friendship and a true and delicate kindness to the survivors. Marian saw all -that, but she dwelt rather on the felicitous condition which rendered it easy to -indulge such impulses. Here was another instance, and in her favour, of the -value of money.</p> - -<p>"It has made more than one difference to me," she thought that night, when -she was alone, and looked round the dismantled study; "it has made me like old -Mr. Creswell, and hitherto I have only envied him."</p> - -<p> -"Do be persuaded, dear Mrs. Ashurst," said Maude Creswell, in a tone of sincere -and earnest entreaty. She had made her appearance at the widow's house early on -the day which succeeded her uncle's visit, and had presented, in her own and in -her sister's name, as well as in that of Mr. Creswell, a petition, which she was -now backing up with much energy. "Do come and stay with us. We are not going to -have any company; there shall be nothing that you can possibly dislike. And -Gerty and I will not tease you or Miss Ashurst; and you shall not be worried by -Tom or anything. <i>Do</i> come, dear, dear Mrs. Ashurst; never mind the nasty -lodgings; they can go on getting properly aired, and cleaned, and so on, until -you are tired of Woolgreaves, and then you can go to them at any time. But not -from your own house, where you have been so long, into that little place, in a -street, too. Say you will come, now do."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ashurst was surprised and pleased. She recognised the girl's frank -affection for her; she knew the generous kindness of heart which made her so -eager to do her uncle's bidding, and secure to those desolate women a long visit -to the splendid home he had given his nieces. Nothing but a base mean order of -pride could have revolted against the offer so made and so pressed. Mrs. Ashurst -yielded, and Maude Creswell returned to her uncle in high delight to announce -that she had been successful in the object of her embassy.</p> - -<p>"How delightful it will be to have the dear old lady here, Gerty!" said Maude -to her sister. "The more I see of her the better I like her; and I mean to be so -kind and attentive to her. I think Miss Ashurst is too grave, and she always -seems so busy and preoccupied: I don't think she can rouse her mother's spirits -much."</p> - -<p>"No, I think not," said Gertrude. "I like the old lady very much too; but I -don't quite know about Miss Ashurst; I think the more I see of her, the less I -seem to know her. You must not leave her altogether to me, Maude. I wonder why -one feels so strange with her? Heigh-ho!" said the girl, with a comical look, -and a shake of her pretty head, "I suppose it's because she's so superior."</p> - -<p>On the following day, Mrs. Ashurst and Marian took leave of their old home, -and were conveyed in one of Mr. Creswell's carriages to Woolgreaves.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> -<h5>THE TENTH EARL.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Hetherington House stands in Beaufort Square, forming one side of that -confessedly aristocratic quarter. The house stands back in melancholy "grounds" -of dirty gravel, brown turf, and smutted trees, while the dwarf wall which forms -the side of the square, and is indeed a sufficiently huge brick screen, fences -off the commonalty, and prevents them from ever catching so much as a glimpse of -the paradise within, save when the great gates are flung open for the entrance -or exit of vehicles, or when the porter, so gorgeous and yet so simple, is -sunning himself in the calm evening air at the small postern-door. The Countess -of Hetherington likes this brick screen, and looks upon it as a necessary -appanage of her rank. When visitors, having exhausted every topic of -conversation possible to their great minds--a feat which is easily performed in -the space of five minutes--and, beginning to fear the immediate advent of -brain-softening if not of idiotcy, suddenly become possessed with a fresh idea -after a lengthened contemplation of the wall in front of them, and with an air -of desperation ask whether it does not make the house dull, Lady Hetherington -says that, on the contrary, it is the only thing that renders the house -habitable. She confesses that, during the time she is compelled to be in London, -the sight of hack cabs, and policemen on their beat, and those kind of things, -are not absolutely necessary to her existence, and as Sir Charles Dumfunk -insists on her rooms facing the west, she is glad that the wall is there to act -as a screen. Oh yes, she is perfectly aware that Lord Letterkenney had the -screen of Purcell House pulled down and an open Italian façade erected in its -place, the picture of which was in the illustrated papers; but as Lady -Letterkenney until her marriage had lived in Ireland, and had probably never -seen anything human except priests and pigs, the sight of civilised beings was -doubtless an agreeable novelty to her. The same circumstances did not exist in -her, Lady Hetherington's, case, and she decidedly liked the screen.</p> - -<p>The Earl likes the screen also, but he never says anything about it, chiefly -because no one over asks his opinion on any subject. He likes it because it is -his, the Earl of Hetherington's, and he likes looking at it as he likes looking -at the coronet on his plate, on his carriage-panels, and his horses' harness, at -his family history as set forth by Burke and Debrett, and at the marginal -illustrations of his coat-of-arms as given in those charming volumes, at his -genealogical tree--a mysterious work of art which hangs in the library, looking -something like an enlarged "sampler" worked by a school-girl, and from the -contemplation of which he derives intense delight. It does not take a great deal -to fill Lord Hetherington's soul with rapture. Down in Norfolk villages, in the -neighbourhood of his ancestral home, and far away in scattered cottages on the -side of green Welsh mountains, where the cross-tree rears its inopportune head -in the midst of the lovely landscape, and where smoke and coal-dust permeate the -soft delicious air, his lordship, as landlord and mine-holder, is spoken of with -bated breath by tenants and workmen, and regarded as one of the hardest-headed, -tightest-fisted men of business by stewards and agents. They do not see much, -scarcely anything, of him, they say, and they don't need to, if he's to be -judged by the letters he writes and the orders he sends. To screw up the rents -and to lengthen the hours of labour was the purport of these letters, while -their style was modelled on that used by the Saxon Franklin to his hog-hind, -curt, overbearing, and offensive. Agents and stewards, recipients of these -missives, say bitter words about Lord Hetherington in private, and tenants and -workmen curse him secretly as they bow to his decree. To them he is a haughty, -selfish, grinding aristocrat, without a thought for any one but himself; whereas -in reality he is a chuckle-headed nobleman, with an inordinate idea of his -position certainly, but kindly hearted, a slave to his wife, and with one great -desire in life, a desire to distinguish himself somehow, no matter how.</p> - -<p>He had tried politics. When a young man he had sat as Lord West for his -county, and the first Conservative ministry which came into office after he had -succeeded to his title, remembering the service which Lord West had done them in -roaring, hooting, and yar-yaring in the House of Commons, repaid the obligation -by appointing the newly fledged Earl of Hetherington to be the head of one of -the inferior departments. Immensely delighted was his lordship at first; went -down to the office daily, to the intense astonishment of the departmental -private secretary, whose official labours had hitherto been confined to writing -about four letters a day, took upon himself to question some of the suggestions -which were made for his approval, carped at the handwriting of the clerks, and -for at least a week thought he had at length found his proper place in the -world, and had made an impression. But it did not last. The permanent heads of -the department soon found him out, scratched through the external cuticle of -pride and pomposity, and discovered the true obstinate dullard underneath. And -then they humoured him, and led him by the nose as they had led many a better -man before him, and he subsided into a nonentity, and then his party went out of -office, and when they came in again they declined to reappoint Lord -Hetherington, though he clamoured ever so loudly.</p> - -<p>Social science was the field in which his lordship next disported himself, -and prolix, pragmatical, and eccentric as are its professors generally, he -managed to excel them all. Lord Hetherington had his theories on the utilisation -of sewage and the treatment of criminals, on strikes and trades unions--the -first of which he thought should be suppressed by the military, the second put -down by Act of Parliament--and on the proper position of women; on which subject -be certainly spoke with more than his usual spirit and fluency. But he was a -bore upon all; and at length the social-science audiences, so tolerant of -boredom, felt that they could stand him no longer, and coughed him down gently -but firmly when he attempted to address them. Lord Hetherington then gave up -social science in disgust, and let his noble mind lie fallow for a few months, -during which time he employed himself in cutting his noble fingers with a -turning-lathe which he caused to be erected in his mansion, and which amused him -very much: until it suddenly occurred to him that the art of bookbinding was one -in which his taste and talent might find a vent. So the room in which the now -deserted turning-lathe stood was soon littered with scraps of leather and -floating fragments of gilt-leaf; and there his lordship spent hours every day -looking on at two men very hard at work in their shirt-sleeves, and occasionally -handing them the tools they asked for: and thus he practised the art of -book-binding. Every one said it was an odd thing for a man to take to, but every -one knew that Lord Hetherington was an odd man; consequently no one was -astonished, after the bound volumes had been duly exhibited to dining or calling -friends, and had elicited the various outbursts of "Jove!" "Ah!" "Charming!" -"Quite too nice!" and "Can't think how he does it, eh?" which politeness -demanded--no one was astonished to hear that his lordship, panting for something -fresh in which to distinguish himself, had found it in taxidermy, which was now -absorbing all the energies of his noble mind. The receipt of a packet of -humming-birds, presented by a poor relation in the navy, first turned Lord -Hetherington's thoughts to this new pursuit; and he acted with such promptitude, -that before the end of a week Mr. Byrne--small, shrunken, and -high-shouldered--had taken the place at the bench erst occupied by the stalwart -men in shirt-sleeves; but the smell of paste and gum had been supplanted by that -of pungent chemicals, the floor was strewn with feathers and wool instead of -leather and gilt-leaf, and his lordship, still looking on and handing tools to -his companion, was stuffing birds very much in the same way as he had bound -books.</p> - -<p>It was a fine sight to see old Jack Byrne, "Bitter Byrne," the ultra-radical, -the sourest-tongued orator of the Spartan Club, the ex-Chartist prisoner, waited -on by gorgeous footmen in plush and silk stockings, fed on French dishes and dry -sherry, and accepting it all as if he had been born to the situation.</p> - -<p>"Why should I quarrel with my bread and butter, or what's a devilish deal -better than bread and butter," he asked in the course of a long evening's ramble -with Walter Joyce, "because it comes from a representative of the class I hate? -I earn it, I work honestly and hard for my wage, and suppose I am to act up to -the sham self-denial preached in some of the prints which batten on the great -cause without understanding or caring for it--suppose I were to refuse the meal -which my lord's politeness sends me, as some of your self-styled Gracchi or -Patriots would wish, how much further should we have developed the plans, or by -what the more should we have dealt a blow at the institution we are labouring to -destroy? Not one jot My maxim, as I have told you before, is, use these people! -Hate them if you will, despise them as you must, but use them!"</p> - -<p>The old man's vehemence had a certain weight with Joyce, who, nevertheless, -was not wholly convinced as to the propriety of his friend's position, and said, -"You justify your conduct by Lord Hetherington's, then? You use each other?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly! My Lord Hetherington in Parliament says, or would say if he were -allowed the chance, but they know him too well for that, so he can only show by -his votes and his proxies--proxies, by the Lord! isn't that a happy state of -things when a minister can swamp any measure that he chooses by pulling from his -pocket a few papers sent to him by a few brother peers, who care so little about -the question in hand that they won't even leave their dinner-tables to come down -and hear it discussed?--says that he loathes what he is pleased to call the -lower classes, and considers them unworthy of being represented in the -legislature. But then he wants to stuff birds, or rather to be known as a -bird-stuffer of taste, and none of the House of Peers can help him there. So he -makes inquiries, and is referred to me, and engages me, and we work -together--neither abrogating our own sentiments. He uses my skill, I take his -money, each has his <i>quid pro quo</i>;and if the time were ever to come,--as -it may come, Walter, mark my words--as it <i>must</i> come, for everything is -tending towards it,--when the battle of the poor against the rich, the bees -against the drones, is fought in this country, fought out, I mean, practically -and not theoretically, we shall each of us, my Lord Hetherington and I, be found -on our respective sides, without the slightest obligation from one to the -other!"</p> - -<p>Joyce had come to look forward to those evening walks with the old man as the -pleasantest portion of the day. From nine till six he laboured conscientiously -at the natural-history work which Mr. Byrne had procured for him, dull -uninteresting work enough, but sufficiently fairly rewarded. Then he met his old -friend at Bliffkins's, and after their frugal meal they set out for a long -ramble through the streets. Byrne was full of information, which, in his worldly -wise fashion, he imparted, tinged with social philosophy or dashed with an -undercurrent of his own peculiar views. Of which an example. Walter Joyce had -been standing for five minutes, silent, rapt in delight at his first view of the -Parliament Houses as seen from Westminster Bridge. A bright moonlight night, -soft, dreamy, even here, with a big yellow harvest moon coming up from the back, -throwing the delicate tracery into splendid relief, and sending out the shadows -thick and black; the old man looking on calmly, quietly chuckling at the -irrepressible enthusiasm mantling over his young friend's cheeks and gleaming in -his eyes.</p> - -<p>"A fine place, lad?"</p> - -<p>"Fine! splendid, superb!"</p> - -<p>"Well, not to put <i>too</i> fine a point upon it, we'll say fine. Ah, they -may blackguard Barry as much as they like--and when it comes to calling names -and flinging mud in print, mind you, I don't know anybody to beat your architect -or your architect's friend--but there's not another man among 'em could have -done anything like that! That's a proper dignified house for the Parliament of -the People to sit in--when it comes!"</p> - -<p>"But it does sit there, doesn't it!"</p> - -<p>"It? What? The Parliament of the People? No, sir; that sits, if you would -believe certain organs of the press, up a court in Fleet Street, where it -discusses the affairs of the nation over screws of shag tobacco and pots of -fourpenny ale. What sits there before us is the Croesus Club, a select -assemblage of between six and seven hundred members, who drop down here to levy -taxes and job generally in the interval between dinner and bed."</p> - -<p>"Are they--are they there now?" asked Joyce eagerly, peering with -outstretched neck at the building before him.</p> - -<p>"Now? No, of course not, man! They're away at their own devices, nine-tenths -of them breaking the laws which they helped to make, and all enjoying -themselves, and wondering what the devil people find to grumble at!"</p> - -<p>"One of the governors of the old school, down, down at Helmingham"--a large -knot swelled in Joyce's throat as he said the word, and nearly choked him; never -before had he felt the place so far away or the days spent there so long removed -from his then life--"was a member of Parliament, I think. Lord Beachcroft. Did -you ever hear of him?"</p> - -<p>The old man smiled sardonically.</p> - -<p>"Hear of him, man? There's not one of them that has made his mark, or that is -likely to make his mark in any way, that I don't know by sight, or that I -haven't heard speak. I know Lord Beachcroft well enough; he's a philanthropist, -wants camphorated chalk tooth-powder for the paupers, and horse-exercise for the -convicts. Registered among the noodles, ranks A1, weakly built, leaden-headed, -and wants an experienced keeper!"</p> - -<p>"That doctrine would have been taken as heresy at Helmingham! I know he came -there once on our speech-day to deliver the prizes, and the boys all cheered him -to the echo!"</p> - -<p>"The boys! of course they did! The child is father to the man! I forgot, -people don't read Wordsworth nowadays, but that's what he says, and he and -Tennyson are the only poet-philosophers that have risen amongst us for many -years; and boys shout, as men would, at the mere sight, at the mere taste of a -lord! How they like to roll your 'lordship' round their mouths, and fear lest -they should lose the slightest atom of its flavour! Not that the boys did wrong -in cheering Lord Beachcroft! He's harmless enough, and well-meaning, I'm sure, -and stands well up among the noodles. And it's better to stand anywhere amongst -them than to be affiliated to the other party!"</p> - -<p>"The other party? Who are they, Mr. Byrne?"</p> - -<p>"The rogues, lad, the rogues! Rogues and noodles make up the blessed lot of -senators sitting in your gimcrack palace, who vote away your birthright and -mine, tax the sweat of millions, bow to Gold Stick and kiss Black Rod's -coat-tails, send our fleets to defend Von Sourkraut's honour, or our soldiers to -sicken of jungle fever in pursuit of the rebel Lollum Dha's adversaries! -Parliament? Representatives of the people? Very much! My gallant friend, all -pipeclay and padded breast, who won't hear of the army estimates being reduced; -my learned friend, who brings all his forensic skill and all his power of -tongue-fence, first learned in three-guinea briefs at the Old Bailey, and now -educated up into such silvery eloquence, into play for the chance of a judgeship -and a knighthood; the volatile Irish member, who subsides finally into the -consulate of Zanzibar; the honourable member, who, having in his early youth -swept out a shop at Loughboro', and arrived in London with eightpence, has -accumulated millions, and is, of course, a strong Tory, with but two desires in -life--to keep down 'the people,' and to obtain a card for his wife for the -Premier's Saturday evenings--these are the representatives of the people for -you! Rogues and noodles, noodles and rogues. Don't you like the picture?"</p> - -<p>"I should hate it, if I believed in it, Mr. Byrne!" said Joyce, moving away, -"but I don't! You won't think me rude or unkind, but--but I've been brought up -in so widely different a faith. I've been taught to hold in such reverence all -that I hear you deny, that----"</p> - -<p>"Stick to it, lad! hold to it while you can!" said the old man kindly, laying -his hand on his companion's arm. "My doctrines are strong meat for babes--too -strong, I dare say--and you're but a toothless infant yet in these things, -anyhow! So much the better for you. I recollect a story of some man who said he -was never happy or well after he was told he had a liver! Go on as long as you -can in pleasant ignorance of the fact that you have a political liver. Some day -it will become torpid and sluggish, and then--then come and talk to old Dr. -Byrne. Till then, he won't attempt to alarm you, depend upon it!"</p> - -<p>Not very long to be deferred was the day in which the political patient was -to come to the political physician for advice and for treatment.</p> - -<p> -Beaufort Square looked hideously dull as Lord Hetherington drove through it on -his way to his home from the railway station a few days after the conversation -above recorded, and the clanging of his own great gates as they shut behind him -echoed and re-echoed through the vast deserted space. The gorgeous porter and -all the regiment of domestics were down at Westhope, the family place in -Norfolk, so the carriage-gates were opened by a middle-aged female with her head -tied up for toothache, and Mrs. Mason, the housekeeper, with a female retinue, -was waiting to receive his lordship on the steps. Always affable to old servants -of the family, whose age, long service, and comfortable comely appearance do him -credit, as he thinks, Lord Hetherington exchanges a few gracious words with Mrs. -Mason, desires that Mr. Byrne shall be shown in to him so soon as he arrives, -and makes his way across the great hall to the library. The shutters of his room -have been opened, but there has been no time given for further preparations, and -the big writing-table, the globes, and the bookcases are all swathed in ghostly -holland drapery. The bust of the ninth earl, Lord Hetherington's father, has -slipped its head out of its covering, and looks astonished and as if it had been -suddenly called up in its nightclothes. My lord looks dismayed, as well he may, -at the dreary room, but finds no more cheerful outlook from the window into the -little square garden, where a few melancholy leaves are rotting in the dirty -corners into which they have drifted, and where Mrs. Mason's grandson, -unconscious of observation, is throwing stones at a cat. My lord rattles the -loose silver in his trousers-pockets, and walks up to the fireplace and inspects -his tongue in the looking-glass, whistles thoughtfully, sighs heavily, and is -beginning to think he shall go mad, when Mrs. Mason opens the door and announces -"Mr. Byrne."</p> - -<p>"How do, Byrne?" says his lordship, much relieved. "Glad to see you--come up -on purpose--want your help!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Byrne returns his lordship's salutations, and quietly asks in what way he -can be of use. His lordship is rather taken aback at being so suddenly brought -to book, but says with some hesitation--</p> - -<p>"Well, not exactly in your own way, Byrne; I don't think I shall do any more -what-d'ye-call-ums, birds, any more--for the present, I mean, for the present. -Her ladyship thought those last screens so good that it would be-useless to try -to improve on them, and so she's given me--I mean I've got--another idea."</p> - -<p>Mr. Byrne, with the faintest dawn of a cynical grin on his face, bows and -waits.</p> - -<p>"Fact is," pursues his lordship, "my place down at Westhope, full of most -monstrously interesting records of our family from the time of--oh, the -Crusaders and Guy Fawkes and the Pretender, and all that kind of thing; records, -don't you know; old papers, and what they call documents, you know, and those -kind of things. Well, I want to take all these things and make 'em into a sort -of history of the family, you know, to write it and have it published, don't -they call it? You know what I mean."</p> - -<p>Mr. Byrne intimates that they do call it published, and that he apprehends -his lordship's meaning completely.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Byrne," his lordship continues, "what I sent for you for is -this. 'Tisn't in your line, I know, but I've found you clever, and all that kind -of thing, and above your station. Oh, I mean it, I do indeed, and I want you to -find me some person, respectable and educated and all that, who will just go -through these papers, you know, and select the right bits, you know, and write -them down, you know, and, in point of fact, just do--you know what I mean."</p> - -<p>Mr. Byrne, with a radiant look which his face but seldom wore, averred that -he not merely understood what was meant, but that he could recommend the very -man whom his lordship required: a young man of excellent address, good -education, and great industry.</p> - -<p>"And he'll understand----?" asked Lord Hetherington hesitatingly, and with a -curious look at Mr. Byrne.</p> - -<p>"Everything," replied the old man. "Your lordship's book will be the most -successful thing you've done."</p> - -<p>"Then bring him to the Clarendon at twelve the day after to-morrow. As he's -to live in the house, and that kind of thing, her ladyship must see him before -he's engaged."</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I may congratulate you, my boy," said Byrne to Joyce a day or two -afterwards, as they walked away from the Clarendon Hotel after their interview, -"though you don't look much pleased about it."</p> - -<p>"I am an ungrateful brute," said Walter; "I ought to have thanked you the -instant the door closed; for it is entirely owing to you and your kindness that -I have obtained this splendid chance. But----"</p> - -<p>"But what?" said the old man kindly.</p> - -<p>"Did you notice that woman's reception of me, and the way she spoke?"</p> - -<p>"That woman? Oh, my Lady! H'm--she's not too polite to those she considers -her inferiors."</p> - -<p>"Polite? To me it was imperious, insolent, degrading! But I can put up with -it!" And he added softly to himself, "For Marian's sake!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> -<h5>AN INTERIOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Marian Ashurst had begun, soon after their parting, to feel that she had been -somewhat too sanguine in her anticipations of the immediate success of Walter -Joyce. Each little difficulty she had had to encounter in her own life until the -old home was left behind had aided to depress her, to force her to understand -that the battle of life was harder to fight than she had fancied it, and had -brought to her mind a shapeless fear that she had mistaken, overvalued, the -strength and efficacy of the weapons with which she must fight that battle. -Walter's letters had not tended to lift her heart up from its depression. His -nature was essentially candid; he had neither the skill nor the inclination to -feign, and he had kept her exactly informed. On his return home after his -interview with Lord and Lady Hetherington, Joyce found a letter awaiting him. It -was from Marian, written to her lover from Mr. Creswell's house, and ran as -follows:</p> - -<p> -"Woolgreaves, Wednesday.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAREST WALTER,</p> - -<p>"The project I told you of, in my last letter, has been carried out; mamma -and I are settled for the present at Woolgreaves. How strange it seems! -Everything has been done so suddenly when it came to the point, and Mr. Creswell -and his nieces turned out so differently from what I expected. I did not look -for their taking any notice of us, except in the commonplace way of people in -their position to people in ours. I always had a notion that 'womankind' have -but a small share in men's friendships. However, these people seem determined to -make me out in the wrong, and though I do not give the young ladies credit for -more than intelligent docility, making them understand that their best policy is -to carry out their uncle's kind intentions--that they have more to gain by -obedience in this respect than to lose by anything likely to be alienated from -them in our direction--I must acknowledge that their docility is intelligent. -They made the invitation most graciously, urged it most heartily, and are -carrying out all it implied fully. You will have been surprised at mamma's -finding the idea of being in any one's house endurable, under the circumstances, -but she really likes it. Maude and Gertrude Creswell, who are the very opposites -of me in everything, belong to the 'sweet-girl' species, and mamma has found out -that she likes sweet girls. Poor mamma, she never had the chance of making the -discovery before! I do believe it never occurred to her that her own daughter -was not a 'sweet girl,' until she made the conquest of the hearts of these -specimens. The truth is, also, that mamma feels, she <i>must</i> feel, every one -must feel the material comfort of living as we are living here, in comparison -with the makeshift wretchedness of the lodging into which we shall have to go, -when our visit here comes to a conclusion, and still more, as a <i>thoroughly -known and felt</i> standard of comparison, with the intense and oppressive -sadness, and the perpetual necessity for watchfulness in the least expense, -which have characterised our dear old house since our sad loss. She is not -herself aware of the good which it has done her to come here, she does not -perceive the change it has wrought in her, and it is well she should not, for I -really think the simple, devoted, grieving soul would be hurt and angry with -herself at the idea that anything should make any difference to her, that she -should be 'roused.' How truly my dear father understood, how highly he prized -her exquisite sensitiveness of feeling; he was just the man to hold it -infinitely above all the strong-mindedness in the world! I am stronger minded, -happily--I wonder if you like to know that I am, or whether you, too, prefer the -weaker, the more womanly type, as people say, forgetting that most of the -endurance, and a good deal of the work, in this world, is our 'womanly' -inheritance, and that some of us, at least, do it with discredit. You don't want -moralising, or philosophising, from me, though, dearest Walter, do you? You -complain of my matter-of-fact letters as it is. I must not yield to my bad habit -of talking to myself, rather than to you on paper.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, we came to Woolgreaves, and found the heartiest of welcomes, and -everything prepared for our comfort. As I don't think you know anything more of -the place than could be learned from our summer-evening strolls about the -grounds, when we always took such good care to keep well out of sight of the -windows, I shall describe the house. You will like to know where and how I live, -and to see in your fancy my surroundings. How glad I shall be when you, too, can -send me a sketch of anything you can call 'home!' Of course, I don't mean that -to apply to myself here; I never let any feeling of enjoyment really take -possession of me because of its transitoriness; you know exactly in what sense I -mean it, a certain feeling of comfort and quiet, of having to-morrow what you -have had to-day, of seeing the same people and the same things around, which -makes up the idea of home, though it must all vanish soon. I wonder if men get -used to alterations in their modes of life so soon as women do? I fancy not. I -know there is mamma, and I am sure a more easily pleased, less consciously -selfish human being never existed (if her share in the comforts of home was -disproportionate, it was my dear father's doing, not of her claiming), and yet -she has been a week here, and all the luxury she lives in seems as natural to -her, as indispensable as the easy-chair, the especially good tea, the daily -glass of wine, the daintiest food which were allotted to her at home. I saw the -girls exchange a look this morning when she said, 'I hope it won't rain, I shall -miss my afternoon drive so much!' I wonder what the look meant? Perhaps it -meant, 'Listen to that upstart! She never had a carriage of her own in her life, -and because she has the use of ours for a few clays, she talks as if it were a -necessary of life.' Perhaps--and I think they may be sufficiently genuinely -sweet girls to make it possible--the look may have meant that they were glad to -think they had it in their power to give her anything she enjoyed so much. I -like it very much, too; there is more pleasure in driving about leisurely in a -carriage which you have not to pay for than I imagined; but I should be sorry -the girls knew I cared very much about it. I have not very much respect for -their intellects, and silly heads are apt to take airs at the mere idea of being -in a position to patronise. Decidedly the best room in the house is mamma's, and -she likes it so much. I often see the thought in her face, 'If we could have -given him all these comforts, we might have had him with us now.' And so we -might, Walter, so we might. Just think of the great age some of the very rich -and grand folks live to; I am sure I have seen it in the papers hundreds of -times, seventy, eighty, ninety sometimes, just because they <i>are</i> rich; -rank has nothing to do with it beyond implying wealth, and if my father had been -even a moderately rich man, if he had been anything but a poor man, he would -have been alive to-day. We must try to be rich, my dearest Walter, and if that -is impossible (and I fear it, I fear it much since I have been here, and Mr. -Creswell has told me a good deal about how he made his money, and from all he -says it seems indispensable to have <i>some</i> to begin with, there is truth in -the saying that <i>money makes money</i>)--if that is impossible, at least we -must not think of marrying while we are poor. I don't think anything can -compensate to one's self for being poor, and I am quite sure nothing can -compensate for seeing any one whom one loves exposed to the privations and the -humiliations of poverty. I have thought so much of this, dearest Walter, I have -been so doubtful whether you think of it seriously enough. It seems absurd for a -woman to say to a man that she ponders the exigencies of life more wisely, and -sees its truths more fully than he does; but I sometimes think women do so, and -in <i>our</i> case I think I estimate the trial and the struggle there is before -us more according to their real weight and severity than you do, Walter, for you -think of me only, whereas I think of you more than of myself, and as <i>one</i> -with myself. I have learned, since I came here, that to understand what poverty -really means one must see the details of wealth. We have only a general idea of -a fine house and grounds, a luxurious table and a lot of servants. The general -idea seems very grand and attractive, but when one sees it all in working order, -when one can find out the cost of each department, the price of every article, -the scale on which it is all kept up, not for show, but <i>for every-day use</i>,then -the real meaning of wealth, the awful difficulty of attaining it, realise -themselves to one's mind. The Creswell girls know nothing about the mechanism of -their splendid home, not much about even their personal expenses. 'Uncle gives -us a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and tells us we may send him in any -reasonable number of bills besides,' Maude told me. And it is quite true. They -keep no accounts. I checked her maid's book for Gertrude, warning her not to let -her servant see her ignorance, and she says she does not think she ever had some -of the things put down. Just think of that! No dyeing old dresses black for -mourning for them, and turning rusty crape! Not that that sort of thing -signifies--the calculation is on too large a scale for such small items--they -only illustrate the whole story of poverty. The housekeeper and I are quite -friendly. She has a notion that ladies ought to understand economy, and she is -very civil. She has explained everything to me, and I find the sums which pass -through her hands alone would be a fortune to us. There are twenty servants in -the house and stables, and their 'hall' is a sight! When I think of the shabby -dining-room in which my dear father used to receive his friends--great people, -too, sometimes, but not latterly--I do feel that human life is a very unfair -thing.</p> - -<p>"The great wide hall, floored with marble, and ornamented with pictures, and -lamps on pedestals, and stags'-heads, and all the things one sees in pictures of -halls, is in the centre of the house, and has a dark carved-oak gallery all -round it, on which numerous rooms open; but on the ground-floor there is a grand -dining-room, and a smaller room where we breakfast, a billiard-room, a splendid -library (all my father's books are in it now, and look nothing in the crowd), an -ante-room where people wait who come on business to Mr. Creswell (all his -business seems to consist in disposing surplus money to advantage), and at the -back of all, opening on the most beautiful flower-garden you can conceive, an -immense conservatory. This is a great pleasure to mamma; there are no painful -associations with <i>such</i> -flowers for her; my father never gave her such bouquets as Gertrude brings to -the breakfast-table every morning and presents to her with a kiss, which her -uncle seems to think particularly gracious and kind, for he always smiles at -her.</p> - -<p>"Indeed, he smiles a good deal at every one, for he is a very good-natured, -amiable, and kindly man, and seems to think little of his wealth. I am sure he -is dreadfully imposed upon--indeed, I have found out many instances of it. How -happy he could make <i>us</i> if he would! dare say he would not miss the money -which would make us comfortable. But I must not think of such a thing. No one -could afford to give so much as it would be <i>wise</i> to marry on, and we -never should be happy if we were not wise. I don't think Mr. Creswell has a -trouble in the world, except his son Tom, and I am not sure that he is a trouble -to him--for he doesn't talk much about himself--but I am quite sure he ought to -be. The boy is as graceless, selfish, heartless a cub, I think, as ever lived. I -remember your thinking him very troublesome and disobedient in school, and he -certainly is not better at home, where he has many opportunities of gratifying -his evil propensities not afforded him by school. He is very much afraid of me, -short a time as I have been here, that is quite evident; and I am inclined to -think one reason why Mr. Creswell likes my being here so much is the influence I -exercise over Tom. Very likely he does not acknowledge that to himself as a -reason, perhaps he does not even know it; but I can discern it, and also that it -is a great relief to the girls. They are very kind to Tom, who worries their -lives out, I am sure, when they are alone; but 'schoolmaster's daughter' was -always an awful personage in the old days, and makes herself <i>felt</i> now -very satisfactorily, though silently. I fancy Tom will turn out to be the crook -in his father's lot when he grows up. He is an unmannerly, common creature, not -to be civilised by all the comfort and luxury of home, or softened by all the -gentleness and indulgence of his father. He is doing nothing just now; he did -not choose to remain with papa's successor, and is running wild until he can be -placed with a private tutor--some clergyman who takes only two or three pupils. -Meantime, the coachman and the groom are his favourite associates, and the -stable his resort of predilection.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the beech-copse just beyond Hillside Road? The windows of my -room look out in that direction, far away, beyond the Woolgreaves grounds; I can -see the tops of the trees, and the winding road beyond them. I go up to my room -every evening, to see the sun set behind the hill there, and to think of the -many times we walked there and talked of what was to be. Will it ever be, -Walter? Were we not foolish boy and girl--foolish paupers? Ay, the word, hard, -ugly, but <i>true</i>.When I look round this room I feel it, oh, so true! Mamma -and I have a pretty sitting-room, and a bedroom each on opposite sides of it. -Such rooms the very simplicity and exquisite freshness of their furniture and -appointments are more significant of wealth, of the ease of household -arrangement, and the perfection of household service, than any amount of rich -upholstery. And then the drawing-rooms, and the girls' rooms, and the -music-room, and the endless spare rooms--which, by-the-by, are rarely occupied; -for so rich a man, and one with such a house, Mr. Creswell seems to me to have -singularly little society. No one but the clergyman and his wife has been since -we came. I thought it might be out of delicate consideration for us that Mr. -Creswell might have signified a wish for especial privacy, but I find that is -not the case. He said to me to-day that he feared we found Woolgreaves dull. I -do not. I have too much to think of to be affected by anything of that kind; and -as my thoughts are rarely of a cheerful order, I should not ingratiate myself by -social agreeability. Our life is quietly luxurious. I adhere to my old habits of -early rising; but I am the only person in the house who enjoys the beauty of the -gardens and grounds in the sweet morning. We breakfast at ten, and mamma and the -girls go out into the lawn or into the garden, and they chat to her and amuse -her until luncheon. I usually pass the morning in the library, reading and -writing, or talking with Mr. Creswell. It is very amusing and interesting to me -to hear all about his career, how he made so much money, and how he administers -it. I begin to understand it very well now. I don't think I should make a bad -woman of business by any means, and I am sure everything of the kind would have -a great interest for me, even apart from my desire for money, and my conviction -that neither happiness nor repose is to be had in this world without it. The old -gentleman seems surprised to find me interested and intelligent about what he -calls such dry detail; but, just as books and pictures are interesting, though -one may never hope to possess them, so money, though it does not belong to -myself, and never can, interests me. Oh, my dearest Walter, if we had but a -little, just a few hundreds of pounds, and Mr. Creswell could teach you how to -employ it with advantage in some commercial undertaking! He began with little -more than one thousand pounds, and now! But I might as well wish you had been -born an archbishop. In the afternoon, there is our drive. What handsome houses -we see, what fine places we pass by! How often I occupy myself with thinking -what I should do if I only had them, and the money they represent! And how hard -the sight of them makes the past appear! How little, falling to <i>our</i> -share, would make the future smiling and happy!</p> - -<p>"The girls are not interesting companions to Mr. Creswell. He is fond of -them, and very kind to them--in fact, lavishly generous--they never have an -ungratified wish; but how can a man, whose whole life has been devoted to -business, feel much companionship with young girls like them, who do not know -what it means? Of course, they think and talk about their dead parents--at -least, I suppose so--and their past lives, and neither subject has any charms -for their uncle. They read--especially Maude--and, strange to say, they read -solid books as well as novels; they excel in fancy-work, which I detest, -probably because I can't do it, and could not afford to buy the materials if I -understood the art; and they both play and sing. I have heard very little good -music, and I am not a judge, except of what is pleasing to myself; but I think I -am correct in rating Maude's musical abilities very highly. Her voice thrills me -almost to pain, and to see my mother's quiet tears when Maude plays to her in -the dim evening is to feel that the power of producing such salutary healing -emotion is priceless indeed. What a pity it is I am not a good musician! Loving -music as you love it, dearest Walter, it will be a privation to you--if ever -that time we talked of comes, when we should have a decent home to share--that I -shall not be able to make sweet music for you. They are not fond of me, but I -did not think they would be, and I am not disappointed. I like them, but they -are too young, too happy, and <i>too rich</i> for me not to envy them a little, -and though love and jealousy may coexist, love and envy cannot.</p> - -<p>"In all this long letter, my own Walter, I have said nothing of <i>you</i>. -You understand why. I <i>dare</i> not. I dare not give utterance to the -discouragement which your last vague letter caused me, lest such discouragement -should infect you, and by lowering your spirits weaken your efforts. Under these -circumstances, and until I hear from you more decisively, I will say nothing, -but strive and hope! On my side, there is little striving possible, and I dare -not tell you how little hope.</p> - -<p>"Your own</p> - -<p>"MARIAN."</p> - -<p> -To the strong, loving, and loyal heart of Walter, a letter from Marian was a -sacred treasure, a full, intense, solemn delight. She had thought the thoughts, -written the words, touched the paper. When disappointment, distress, depression, -and uncertainty accumulated upon him most ruthlessly, and bore him most heavily -to the ground, he shook them from him at the bidding of a letter from her, and -rose more than ever determined not to be beaten in the struggle which was to -bring him such a reward. The calmness, the seeming coldness even of her letters -did not annoy or disappoint him; theirs was the perfect love that did not need -protestation--that was as well and as ill, as fully and as imperfectly, -expressed by the simplest affirmation as by a score of endearing phrases. No -letter of Marian's had ever failed to delight, to strengthen, to encourage -Walter Joyce, until this one reached him.</p> - -<p>He opened the envelope with an eager touch, his dark cheek flushed, and a -tender smile shone in his eyes; he murmured a word of love as the closely -written sheets met his impatient gaze.</p> - -<p>"A long letter to-day, Marian, my darling. Did you guess how sadly I wanted -it?"</p> - -<p>But as Walter read the letter his countenance changed. He turned back, and -read some portions twice over, then went on, and when he concluded it began -again. But not with the iteration of a lover refreshing his first feeling of -delight, seeking pet passages to dwell on afresh. There was no such pleasurable -impulse in the moody re-reading of his letter. Walter frowned more than once -while he read it, and struck the hand in which he held it monotonously against -his knee when he had acquired the full unmistakable meaning of it.</p> - -<p>His face had been sad and anxious when the letter reached him--he had reason -for sadness and anxiety--but when he had read it for the last time, and thrust -it into his breast-pocket, his face was more than sad and anxious--it was -haggard, gloomy, and angry.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE LOUT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Creswell's only son, who was named after Mr. Creswell's only brother, by -no means resembled his prototype either in appearance, manners, or disposition. -For whereas Tom Creswell the elder had been a long, lean, washed-out-looking -person, with long, wiry black hair, sallow complexion, hollow cheeks, and a -faint dawn of a moustache (in his youth he had turned down his collars and -modelled himself generally on Lord Byron, and throughout his life he was -declared by his wife to be most aristocratic and romantic-looking), Tom Creswell -the younger had a small, round, bullet head, with closely cropped sandy hair, -eyes deeply sunken and but little visible, snub nose, wide mouth, and dimpled -chin. Tom Creswell the elder rose at noon, and lay upon the sofa all day, -composing verses, reading novels, or playing the flute. Tom Creswell the younger -was up at five every morning, round through the stables, saw the horses properly -fed, peered into every corn-bin ("Darng, now whey do thot? Darnged if un doesn't -count cam-grains, I think," was the groom's muttered exclamation on this -proceeding), ran his hand over the animals, and declared that they "didn't carry -as much flesh as they might," with a look at the helpers which obviously meant -that they starved the cattle and sold the oats. Then Tom the younger would go to -the garden, where his greatest delight lay in counting the peaches and -nectarines, and plums and apricots, nestling coyly against the old red south -wall, in taking stock of the cucumbers and melons under their frames, and in -ticking off the number of the bunches of grapes slowly ripening in the sickly -heat of the vinery, while the Scotch head-gardener, a man whose natural -hot-headedness was barely kept within bounds by the strictness of his religious -opinions, would stand by looking on, outwardly placid, but inwardly burning to -deliver himself of his sentiments in the Gaelic language. Tom Creswell the elder -was always languid and ailing; as a boy he had worn a comforter, and a hare-skin -on his chest, had taken cough-lozenges and jujubes, had been laughed at and -called "Molly" and "Miss" by his schoolfellows, and had sighed and simpered away -his existence. Tom Creswell the younger was strong as a Shetland pony, and hard -as a tennis-ball, full of exuberant vitality which, not finding sufficient vent -in ordinary schoolboy fun, in cricket, or hockey, or football, let itself off in -cruelty, in teasing and stoning animals, in bullying smaller boys. Tom Creswell -the elder was weak, selfish, idle, and conceited, but--you could not help -allowing it--he was a gentleman. Tom Creswell the younger--you could not -possibly deny it--was a blatant cad.</p> - -<p>Not the least doubt of it. Everybody knew it, and most people owned it. Down -in the village it was common talk. Mr. Creswell was wonderfully respected in -Helmingham town, though the old people minded the day when he was thought little -of. Helmingham is strictly Conservative, and when Mr. Creswell first settled -himself at Woolgreaves, and commenced his restoration of the house, and was -known to be spending large sums on the estate, and was seen to have horses and -equipages very far outshining those of Sir Thomas Churchill of the Park, who was -lord of the manor, and a county magnate of the very first order, the village -folk could not understand a man of no particular birth or breeding, and whose -money, it was well known, had been made in trade--which, to the Helmingham -limited comprehension, meant across a counter in a shop, "just like Tom Boucher, -the draper"--attaining such a position. They did not like the idea of being -patronised by one whom they considered to be of their own order; and the foolish -face which had been transmitted through ten generations, and the stupid head -which had never had a wise idea or a kindly thought in it, received the homage -which was denied to the clever man who had been the founder of his own fortune, -and who was the best landlord and the kindest neighbour in the country round. -But this prejudice soon wore away. The practical good sense which had gained for -Mr. Creswell his position soon made itself felt among the Helmingham folk, and -the "canny" ones soon grew as loud in his praise as they had been in his -disparagement. Even Jack Forman, the ne'er-do-weel of the village, who was -always sunning his fat form at alehouse-doors, and who had but few good words -for any one, save for the most recent "stander" of beer, had been heard to -declare outside that Mr. Creswell was the "raight soort," a phrase which, in -Jack's limited vocabulary, stood for something highly complimentary. The young -ladies, too, were exceedingly popular. They were pretty, of a downright English -prettiness, expressed in hair and eyes and complexion, a prettiness commending -itself at once to the uneducated English rustic taste, which is apt to find -classical features "peaky," and romantic expression "fal-lal." They were girls -about whom there was "no nonsense"--cheerful, bright, and homely. The feelings -which congealed into cold politeness under the influence of Marian Ashurst's -supposed "superiority" overflowed with womanly tenderness when their possessor -was watching Widow Halton through the fever, or tending little Madge Mason's -crippled limb. The blight faces of "the young ladies" were known for miles -through the country round, and whenever sickness or distress crossed the -threshold they were speedily followed by these ministering angels. If human -prayers for others' welfare avail on high, Mr. Creswell and his nieces had them -in scores.</p> - -<p>But the Helmingham folk did not pray much for young Tom; on the contrary, -their aspirations towards him were, it is to be feared, of a malignant kind. The -warfare which always existed between the village folk and the Grammar-School -boys was carried on without rancour. The farmers whose orchards were robbed, -whose growing wheat was trampled down, whose ducks were dog-hunted, contented -themselves with putting in an occasional appearance with a cart-whip, fully -knowing, at the same time, the impossibility of catching their young and active -tormentors, and with "darnging" the rising generation in general, and the youth -then profiting by Sir Ranulph Clinton's generosity in particular. The village -tradesmen whose windows were broken, when they discovered who were the -offenders, laid on an additional item to their parents' account; when they could -not bring the crime home to any boy in particular, laid on an additional item to -Mr. Ashurst's account, and thus consoled themselves. Moreover, there was a -general feeling that somehow, in a way that they could not and never attempted -to explain, the school, since Mr. Ashurst had had it in hand, had been a credit -to the place, and the canny folk, in their canniness, liked something which -brought them credit and cost them nothing, and had friendly feelings to the -masters and the boys.</p> - -<p>But not to young Tom Creswell. They hated him, and they said so roundly. What -was youthful merriment and mischief in other boys was, they averred, -"bedevilment" in young Tom. Standing at their doors on fine summer evenings, the -village folk would pause in their gossip to look after him as he cantered by on -his chestnut pony--an animal which Banks, the farrier, declared to be as vicious -and as cross-grained as its master. Eyes were averted as he passed, and no hat -was raised in salutation; but that mattered little to the rider. He noticed it, -of course, as he noticed everything in his hang-dog manner, with furtive glances -under his eyebrows; and he thought that when he came into his kingdom--he often -speculated upon that time--he would make these dogs pay for their insolence. -Jack Forman was never drunk; no given amount of beer--and it was always given in -Jack's case, as he never paid for it--could make him wholly intoxicated; but -when he was in that state which he explained himself as having "an extry pint in -him," Jack would stand up, holding on by the horse-trough in front of the Seven -Stars, and shake his disengaged fist at young Tom riding past, and express his -wish to wring young Tom's neck. Mr. Benthall, who had succeeded Mr. Ashurst as -head-master of the school, was soon on excellent terms with Mr. Creswell, and -thus had an opportunity of getting an insight into young Tom's character--an -opportunity which rendered him profoundly thankful that that interesting youth -was no longer numbered among his scholars, and caused him much wonderment as to -how Trollope, who was the curate of a neighbouring parish, who had been chosen -for young Tom's private tutor, could possibly get on with his pupil. Mr. -Trollope, a mild, gentlemanly, retiring young man, with a bashful manner and a -weak voice, found himself utterly unable to cope with the lout, who mocked at -him before his face and mimicked him behind his back, and refused to be taught -or guided by him in any way. So Mr. Trollope, after speaking to the lout's -father, and finding but little good resulting therefrom, contented himself with -setting exercises which were never done, and marking out lessons which were -never learned, and bearing a vast amount of contumely and unpleasantness for the -sake of a salary which was very regularly paid.</p> - -<p>It must not be supposed that his son's strongly marked characteristics passed -unobserved by Mr. Creswell, or that they failed to cause him an immensity of -pain. The man's life had been so hard and earnest, so engrossing and so -laborious, that he had only allowed himself two subjects for distraction, -occasionally indulged in; one, regret for his wife; the other, hope in his son. -As time passed away and he grew older, the first lessened and the other grew. -His Jenny had been an angel on earth, he thought, and was now an angel in -heaven, and the period was nearing, rapidly nearing, when, as he himself humbly -hoped, he might be permitted to join her. Then his son would take his place, -with no ladder to climb, no weary heart-burning and hard slaving to go through, -but with the position achieved, the ball at his foot. In Mr. Creswell's own -experience he had seen a score of men, whose fathers had been inferior to him in -natural talent and business capacity, and in luck, which was not the least part -of the affair, holding their own with the landed gentry whose ancestry had been -"county people" for ages past, and playing at squires with as much grace and -tact as if cotton-twist and coal-dust were things of which they might have -heard, indeed, but with which they had never been brought into contact. It had -been the dream of the old man's life that his son should be one of these. The -first idea of the purchase of Woolgreaves, the lavish splendour with which the -place had been rehabilitated and with which it was kept up, the still persistent -holding on to business and superintending, though with but rare intervals, his -own affairs, all sprang from this hope. The old gentleman's tastes were simple -in the extreme. He hated grandeur, disliked society, had had far more than -enough of business worries. There was plenty, more than plenty, for him and his -nieces to live on in affluence, but it had been the dearest wish of his heart to -leave his son a man of mark, and do it he would.</p> - -<p>Did he really think so? Not in his inmost heart. The keen eyes which had been -accustomed for so long to read human nature like a book refused to be -hoodwinked; the keen sense used to sift and balance human motives refused to be -paltered with; the logical powers which deduced effect from cause refused to be -stifled or led astray. To no human being were Tom Creswell's moral deficiencies -and shortcomings more patent than to his father; it is needless to say that to -none were they the subject of such bitter anguish. Mr. Creswell knew that his -son was a failure, and worse than a failure. If he had been merely stupid there -would have been not much to grieve over. The lad would have been a -disappointment--as how many lads are disappointments to fond parents!--and that -was all. Hundreds, thousands of stupid young men filled their position in -society with average success. Their money supported them, and they pulled -through. He had hoped for something better than this for his son, but in the -bitterness of his grief he allowed to himself that he would have been contented -even with so much. But Mr. Creswell knew that his son was worse than stupid; -that he was bad, low in his tastes and associations, sordid and servile in his -heart, cunning, mean, and despicable. All the qualities which should have -distinguished him--gentlemanly bearing, refined manners, cultivated tastes, -generous impulses--all these he lacked: with a desire for sharp practice, -hard-heartedness, rudeness towards those beneath him in the social scale, -boorishness towards his equals, he was overflowing. Lout that he was, he had not -even reverence for his father, had not even the decency to attempt to hide his -badness, but paraded it in the open day before the eyes of all, with a kind of -sullen pride. And that was to be the end of all Mr. Creswell's plotting and -planning, all his hard work and high hopes? For this he had toiled, and slaved, -and speculated? Many and many a bitter hour did the old man pass shut away in -the seclusion of his library, thinking over the bright hopes which he had -indulged in as regarded his son's career, and the way in which they had been -slighted, the bright what might have been, the dim what was. Vainly the father -would endeavour to argue with himself, that the boy was as yet but a boy; that -when he became a man he would put away the things which were not childish -indeed, for then would there have been more hope, but bad, and in the fulness of -time develop into what had been expected of him. Mr. Creswell knew to the -contrary. He had watched his son for years with too deep an interest not to have -perceived that, as the years passed away, the light lines in the boy's character -grew dim and faint, and the dark lines deepened in intensity. Year by year the -boy became harder, coarser, more calculating, and more avaricious. As a child he -had lent his pocket money out on usury to his schoolfellows, and now he talked -to his father about investments and interest in a manner which would have -pleased some parents and amused others, but which brought anything but pleasure -to Mr. Creswell as he marked the keen hungry look in the boy's sunken eyes, and -listened to his half-framed and abortive but always sordid plans.</p> - -<p>Between father and son there was not the smallest bond of sympathy; that, Mr. -Creswell had brought himself to confess. How many score times had he looked into -the boy's face, hoping to see there some gleam of filial love, and had turned -away bitterly disappointed! How often had he tried to engage the lad in topics -of conversation which he imagined would have been congenial to him, and on which -he might have suffered himself to be drawn out, but without the slightest -success! The jovial miller who lived upon the Dee was not one whit less careless -than Tom Creswell about the opinion which other folks entertained of him, so -long as you did not interfere with any of his plans. Even the intended visit of -Mrs. Ashurst and Marian to Woolgreaves elicited very little remark from him, -although the girls imagined it might not be quite acceptable to him, and -consulted together as to how the news should be broken to the domestic bashaw. -After a great deal of cogitation and suggestion, it was decided that the best -plan would be to take the tyrant at a favourable opportunity--at meal-time, for -instance--and to approach the subject in a light and airy manner, as though it -were of no great consequence, and was only mentioned for the sake of something -to say. The plot thus conceived was duly carried out two days afterwards, on an -occasion when, from the promptitude and agility with which he wielded his knife -and fork, and the stertorous grunts and lip-smackings which accompanied his -performance, it was rightly judged that Master Tom was enjoying his dinner with -an extra relish. Mr. Creswell was absent--he seldom attended at the -luncheon-table--and the girls interchanged a nod of intelligence, and prepared -to commence the play. They had had but little occasion or opportunity for -acting, and were consequently nervous to a degree.</p> - -<p>"Did you see much of Mrs. Ashurst in--in poor Mr. Ashurst's time, at the -school, Tom?" commenced Gertrude, with a good deal of hesitation and a profound -study of her plate.</p> - -<p>"No, no, not much--quite enough!" returned Tom, without raising his head.</p> - -<p>"Why quite enough, Tom?" came in Maude to the rescue. "She is a most -delightful woman, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"Most charming," threw in Gertrude, a little undecidedly, but still in -support.</p> - -<p>"Ah, very likely," said Tom. "We didn't see much of her--the day-boys, I -mean; but Peacock and the other fellows who boarded at M. Ashurst's declared she -used to water the beer, and never sent back half the fellows' towels and sheets -when they left."</p> - -<p>"How disgraceful! how disgusting!" burst out Maude. "Mrs. Ashurst is a -perfect lady, and--oh, what wretches boys are!"</p> - -<p>"Screech away! I don't mind," said the philosophic Tom. "Only what's up about -this? What's the matter with old Mother Ashurst?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing is the matter with Mrs. Ashurst, your father's friend, Tom," said -Gertrude, trying a bit of dignity, and failing miserably therein, for Gertrude -was a lovable, kissable, Dresden-china style of beauty, without a particle of -dignity in her whole composition. "Mrs. Ashurst is your father's friend, sir, at -least the widow of his old friend, and your father has asked her to come and -stay here on a visit, and--and we all hope you'll be polite to her." It was -seldom that Gertrude achieved such a long sentence, or delivered one with so -much force. It was quite plain that Mrs. Ashurst was a favourite of hers.</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Tom, "all right! Old Mother Ashurst's coming here on a visit, is -she? All right!"</p> - -<p>"And Miss Ashurst comes with her," said Maude.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lord!" cried Tom Creswell. "Miss Prim coming too! That'll be a clear -saving of the governor's vinegar and olives all the time she's here. She's a -nice creature, she is!"</p> - -<p>And he screwed up his mouth with an air of excessive distaste.</p> - -<p>"Well, at all events, she's going to be your father's guest, and we must all -do our best to make the visit pleasant to them," said Gertrude, who, like most -people who are most proud of what they do least well, thought she was playing -dignity admirably.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't care!" said Tom. "If the governor likes to have them here, and -you two girls are so sweet upon them all of a sudden, I say, all right. Only -look here--no interference with me in any way. The sight of me mustn't make the -old lady break down and burst out blubbering, or anything of that sort, and no -asking me how I'm getting on with my lessons, and that kind of thing. Stow that, -mind!"</p> - -<p>"You needn't trouble yourself, I think," said Maude; "it is scarcely likely -that either Mrs. or Miss Ashurst will feel very keen interest in you or your -pursuits."</p> - -<p>And out of Maude's flashing eyes, and through Maude's tightly compressed -lips, the sarcasm came cutting like a knife.</p> - -<p>But when their visitors had been but a very short time established at -Woolgreaves, it became evident not merely to Mr. Creswell, but to all in the -house, that Master Tom had at last met with some one who could exercise -influence over him, and that some one was Marian Ashurst. It was the treatment -that did it. Tom had been alternately petted and punished, scolded and spoiled, -but he had never been turned into ridicule before, and when Marian tried that -treatment on him he succumbed at once. He confessed he had always thought that -"he could not stand chaff," and now he knew it. Marian's badinage was, as might -be supposed, of a somewhat grave and serious order. Tom's bluntness, -uncouthness, avarice, and self-love were constantly betraying themselves in his -conversation and conduct, and each of them offered an admirable target at which -Marian fired telling shots. The girls were at first astonished and then -delighted, as was Mr. Creswell, who had a faint hope that under the correction -thus lightly administered his son might be brought to see how objectionable were -certain of his views and proceedings. The lout himself did not like it at all. -His impossibility of standing "chaff," or of answering it, rendered him for the -first time a nonentity in the family circle; his voice, usually loud and -strident, was hushed whenever Marian came into the room. The domestic atmosphere -at Woolgreaves was far more pleasant than it had been for some time, and Mr. -Creswell thought that the "sweet little girl" was not merely a "dead hand at a -bargain," but that she possessed the brute-taming power in a manner hitherto -undreamed of. Decidedly she was a very exceptional person, and more highly -gifted than any one would suppose.</p> - -<p>Tom hated her heartily, and chafed inwardly because he did not see his way to -revenging himself on her. He had not the wit to reply when Marian turned him -into ridicule, and he dared not answer her with mere rudeness; so he remained -silent and sulky, brooding over his rage, and racking his brains to try and find -a crack in his enemy's armour--a vulnerable place. He found it at last, but, -characteristically, took no notice at the time, waiting for his opportunity. -That came. One day, after luncheon, when her mother had gone up for a quiet nap, -and the girls were practising duets in the music-room, Marian set out for a long -walk across the hard, dry, frost-covered fields to the village; the air was -brisk and bracing, and the girl was in better spirits than usual. She thoroughly -appreciated the refined comforts and the luxurious living of Woolgreaves, and -the conduct of the host and his nieces towards her had been so perfectly -charming, that she had almost forgotten that her enjoyment of those luxuries was -but temporary, and that very shortly she would have to face the world in a worse -position than she had as yet occupied, and to fight the great battle of life, -too, for her mother and herself. Often in the evening, as she sat in the -drawing-room buried in the soft cushions of the sofa, dreamily listening to the -music which the girls were playing, lazily watching her mother cosily seated in -the chimney-corner, and old Mr. Creswell by her, quietly beating time to the -tune, the firelight flickering over the furniture and appointments bespeaking -wealth and comfort, she would fall into a kind of half-trance, in which she -would believe that the great desire of her life had been accomplished, and that -she was rich--placed far above the necessity of toil or the torture of penury. -Nor was the dream ever entirely dispelled. The comfort and luxury were there, -and as to the term of her enjoyment, how could that be prolonged? Her busy brain -was filled with that idea this afternoon, and so deeply was she in thought, that -she scarcely started at a loud crashing of branches close beside her, and only -had time to draw back as Tom Creswell's chestnut mare, with Tom Creswell on her -back, landed into the field beside her.</p> - -<p>"Good heavens, Tom, how you startled me!" cried Marian; "and what's the -matter with Kitty? She's covered with foam, and trembling all over!"</p> - -<p>"I've been taking it out of the blunder-headed brute, that's all, Miss -Ashurst," said the lout, with a vicious dig of his spurs into the mare's sides, -which caused her to snort loudly and to rear on end.--"Ah, would you, you -brute?--She's got it in her head that she won't jump to-day, and I'm showing her -she will, and she must, if I choose.--Stand still, now, and get your wind, d'ye -hear?" And he threw the reins on the mare's neck, and turned round in his -saddle, facing Marian. "I'm glad I've met you, Miss Ashurst," he continued, with -a very evil light in his sullen face, "for I've got something to say to you, and -I'm just in the mood to say it now."</p> - -<p>He looked so thoroughly vicious and despicable, that Marian's first feeling -of alarm changed into disgust as she looked at him and said--</p> - -<p>"What is it, Tom?--say on!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I intend to," said the lout, with a baleful grin. "I intend to say on, -whether you like it or not. I've waited a precious long time, and I intend to -speak now. Look here. You've had a fine turn at me, you have! Chaffin' me, and -pokin' your fun at me, and shuttin' me up whenever I spoke. You're doosid -clever, you are, and so sharp, and all that; and I'm such a fool, I am, but I've -found out your game for all that!"</p> - -<p>"My game, Tom! Do you know what you're talking about, and to whom you are -talking?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't I! That's just it. I'm talking to Miss Marian Ashurst, and Miss -Marian Ashurst's game is moneymaking! Lord bless you, they know all about it -down in the village--the Crokes, and the Whichers, and them, they're full of -stories of you when you was a little girl, and they all know you're not changed -now. But look here, keep it to yourself, or take it away from our place. Don't -try it on here. It's quite enough to have those two girls saddled on the family, -but they are relations, and that's some excuse. We don't want any more, mark -that. My father's getting old now, and he's weak, and don't see things so -clearly as he did, but I do. I see why your mother's got hold of those girls, -and how you're trying to make yourself useful to the governor. I heard you -offering to go through the Home-Farm accounts the other day."</p> - -<p>"I offered because your--because---- Oh, Tom, how dare you! You wicked, -wicked boy!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I know, very likely; but I won't let any one interfere with me. You -thought you were going to settle yourself on us. I don't intend it. I'm a -boy--all right; but I know how to get my own way, and I means to have it. This -hot-tempered brute" (pointing to the pony) "has found that out, and you'll find -it out, too, before I have done with you. That's all.--Get on, now!"</p> - -<p>The pony sprang into the air as he gave her a savage cut with his whip, and -he rode off, leaving Marian in an agony of shame and rage.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> -<h5>A REMOVAL.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Some few minutes passed before Marian felt sufficiently recovered to move. -The attack had been so unexpected and so brutal that she would have been -perfectly paralysed by it even if the words which the boy had used had been the -outpourings of mere random savagery, instead of, as they evidently were, the -result of premeditated and planned insult--insult grounded on hate, and hate -springing from fear. Marian's quick intelligence made that plain to her in a -moment. The boy feared her, feared that she might obtain an ascendancy over his -father, and get the old gentleman to advance money to Mrs. Ashurst--money that -ought not to go out of the family, and should be his at his father's death--or -perhaps fancied she was scheming to quarter herself at Woolgreaves, and---- Good -heavens, could he have thought that! Why, the idea had never crossed her mind. -She dismissed it at once, not without a half smile at the notion of the -retribution she could inflict, at the thought that the boy had suggested to her -what might be such a punishment for himself as she had never dreamed of.</p> - -<p>She walked on quickly, communing with herself. So they had found her out, had -they? Tom's blurted warning was the first intimation she had had that what she -knew to be the guiding purpose of her life, the worship of, love for, intended -acquisition of money, was suspected by any, known to any one else. No syllable -on the subject, either jestingly or reproachfully, had ever been breathed to her -before. It was not likely that she would have heard of it. Her father had -considered her to be perfect; her mother had set down all her small economies, -scrapings, and hoardings which were practised in the household to Marian's -"wonderful management;" and however the feminine portion of the Whicher and -Croke families might talk among themselves, their respect for the schoolmaster -and their dread of Marian's powers of retort always effectually prevented them -from dropping any hints at the schoolhouse. So Marian heard it now for the first -time. Yet there was nothing in it to be ashamed of, she thought; if her poor -father had been guided by this sentiment his life might have been perhaps -preserved, and certainly an immense amount of misery would have been spared to -them all. Love of money, a desire to acquire wealth,--who should reproach her -for that? Not Mr. Creswell, of whose good opinion she seemed to think first, for -had not his whole life been passed in the practice, and was not his present -position the result, the example to which she could point in defence of her -creed? Not Maude or Gertrude Creswell, who if they had possessed the smallest -spark of independence would have been earning their bread as companions or -governesses. Not the people of the village, who---- Yes, by Tom's account they -did talk of her; but what then? What the people in the village thought or said -about her had never been of the smallest interest to Marian Ashurst when she -lived among them, and was brought into daily communion with them; it was -therefore not likely that she would take much heed of it now, as she had made up -her mind that she and her mother must go and live in another place, far away -from all old scenes and associations, when they left Woolgreaves.</p> - -<p>When they left Woolgreaves! Hitherto she had not bestowed much thought upon -that necessarily closely approaching event, but now she turned her attention to -it. Under ordinary circumstances, even if things had gone on pleasantly as -heretofore, if their stay had been made as comfortable to them, the attention of -Mr. Creswell and his nieces had been as great, and the general desire for them -to remain as obvious, they would have had in common decency to propose some date -for the expiration of their visit. And now that Tom, who had hitherto been only -a negative nuisance, developed into a positive enemy, it was doubly necessary -that they should take precaution not to outstay their welcome. Yes, they must -go! Give up all the comforts and luxury, the fine airy rooms, the bedroom fires, -the carriage drives, the good living, the wine, and attention, all of which -combined had done Mrs. Ashurst so much good, and rendered her stronger and -sounder than she had been for years--all these must be given up, and they must -go away to poky, stivy lodgings, with dirt and discomfort of every kind; with -wretched cooking which would turn her mother sick, and the attendance of a -miserable maid-of-all-work, who would not understand any of their ways, and the -perpetual presence of penury and want making itself felt every hour of their -lives. The picture was so horrible, so repugnant to Marian, that she determined -not to let it engross her thoughts in anticipation; it would be quite sufficient -to cope with when it came, and she should require all her energies fresh and -untaxed for the encounter. So she walked briskly on, and as she had now reached -the village her attention was soon quickly absorbed by the greetings which she -received, and the talk in which she had to take part.</p> - -<p>The first greetings were from Mr. Benthall. Marian had determined that she -would not go down Southwood Lane, which led to the schoolhouse, as she had no -desire of encountering either master or boys in her then mood. She had not been -near the school since she and her mother left the house, and she had arranged in -her mind a little farewell on her part to both when she left the village. And -now here was Mr. Benthall advancing straight towards her, and there was no -possibility of escape, as she remembered that it was the Saturday half-holiday, -and that she should probably have to run the gauntlet of a score of friends. Mr. -Benthall was a brisk, lively, agreeable man, with cheerfulness and pleasant -manners, and plenty of small talk. He was, moreover, a gentleman and a man of -the world, and he knew exactly how to pitch the key of his conversation to a -young lady, the daughter of his predecessor, who might or might not--Mr. -Benthall's experience of human nature told him might, and probably would--feel -somewhat antipathetic towards him. So Mr. Benthall talked of Mrs. Ashurst, and -of Mr. Creswell, and of the young ladies, and of Tom. "My friend Trollope's -young charge," as Mr. Benthall spoke of him, with a somewhat malicious sparkle -in his eye. And the weather was quite cold, was it not? and the frost had set in -quite early, had it not? And Miss Ashurst was looking so blooming that Mr. -Benthall had no need to ask her how she was, which was, indeed, the reason why -he had not done so long since, but must beg her to take charge of his kindest -compliments for her mother and the young ladies and Mr. Creswell. And Mr. -Benthall had taken off his well-brushed hat, and had skipped across the road in -his well-brushed, shapely boots, and Marian was contrasting him with that figure -which was ever present to her memory--her father, bowed, and shrunken, and -slatternly, and ill-dressed--when she heard her Christian name called aloud, and -Dr. Osborne, in his little four-wheeled pony-carriage, drew up by her side.</p> - -<p>"Well, Princess!" said the cheery old medico; "for since I have made you hear -I may as well address you by your title--well, Princess, how goes it?"</p> - -<p>"It goes very well indeed, dear Dr. Osborne," said Marian, returning his -hand-pressure. "But why Princess?"</p> - -<p>"Why Princess! What lower rank could a girl be who lives in a palace, over -there, I mean, with 'vassals and slaves by her side,' as I've heard my girl sing -years ago, and all that kind of thing?"</p> - -<p>"But surely only a princess of the Cinderella style, my dear doctor; only -enjoying the vassals and the slaves, and what you call 'that kind of thing,' for -a very limited time. Twelve o'clock must strike very soon, dear old friend, in -our case, and then this princess will go back to the pots and kettles, and -cinder-sifting, and a state of life worse than ever she has known before."</p> - -<p>"God forbid, my dear!" said the doctor seriously. "Which way are you -going--back again to Woolgreaves? All right. I'm driving that road, and I'll set -you down at the gates. Jump in, child. I wanted a few minutes' talk with you, -and this has just happened luckily; we can have it without any interruption."</p> - -<p>He stretched out his hand and helped Marian into the seat by his side; then -gave the brisk little pony his head, and they rattled cheerily along.</p> - -<p>"Let me see, my dear, what was I saying?" said the doctor, after the silence -of a few minutes. "By the way, I think I ought to have called in the village to -see little Pickering, who's in for measles, I suspect. I must start a -memorandum-book, my memory is beginning to fail me. What was I saying, my dear?"</p> - -<p>"You were saying that you wanted to talk to me--about Woolgreaves, I think it -must have been."</p> - -<p>"About Woolgreaves--the palace, as I called it--oh yes, that was it. See -here, child; I'm the oldest friend you have in the world, and I hope one of the -truest; and I want you to answer my questions frankly, and without reserve, just -as if I were your father, you know."</p> - -<p>"I will do so," said Marian, after a faint flutter at her heart, caused by -the notion of the little doctor, good little soul as he was, comparing himself -with her dead father.</p> - -<p>"That's right," said Dr. Osborne. "I knew you almost before you came into the -world, and that gives me some right to your confidence. Now, then, are you happy -at Woolgreaves?"</p> - -<p>Marian hesitated a moment before she replied: "Happier than I thought I could -have been--yet."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's right, and straightforward. Mind, in all these questions I'm -alluding to you, not to your mother. I know her--charming lady, affectionate, -and all that, but clinging and unreasoning, likes to lie where she falls, and so -on; whereas you've got a head on your shoulders, finely developed and--so on. -Now, are they all kind to you at Woolgreaves? Old gentleman kind?"</p> - -<p>"Most kind!"</p> - -<p>"Of course he is. Never was a man so full of heart as he is. If he had only -been at home when your poor father--ah, well, that's no matter now."</p> - -<p>"What's that you said, Dr. Osborne--that about my father?"</p> - -<p>"Stupid old fool to go blundering into such a subject! Why couldn't I have -let it alone? 'Let the dead past bury its dead.' What's that I've heard my girl -sing?" the old gentleman muttered to himself. Then aloud, "Nothing, my dear. I -was only thinking that if Mr. Creswell had been at home just at the time I dare -say we might have made some arrangement, and had Godby down from St. Vitus, and -then----"</p> - -<p>"And then my father need not have died for the want of a hundred and thirty -guineas! Oh, don't think I forget." And there came into the girl's face the -hard, stony, rigid look which Dr. Osborne remembered there so well on the night -of her father's death, six months before.</p> - -<p>"Well," said the little doctor, laying the whip across his knee and blowing -his nose so loudly that the pony shied at the noise--"well, well, dear, Mr. -Creswell's absence at that particular time was, to say the least of it, -unfortunate; we may say that. Now, what about the girls; are they kind?"</p> - -<p>"Very, in their way."</p> - -<p>"Good!" said the little doctor, bringing his hand down with a ringing slap on -the chaise-apron, "I like that! Dry--deuced dry. Like your poor father, that. -'In their way.' Ha, ha I understand. Their way is not much yours?"</p> - -<p>"They are very good-tempered and polite, and press one to eat and drink a -great deal, and hand chairs and footstools, and always sing when they are asked. -And," added Marian, after a moment's pause, and under a fear that she had been -unduly cynical, "and they are most attentive and affectionate to mamma."</p> - -<p>"I am delighted to hear that, for that's just as it should be, just as one -would have wished it to turn out. Oh yes, quite ladies, with all the feelings -and perceptions of ladies, and talking to your mother nicely, and so on. Not too -bright--not to be compared with you or my girl. Ah, there would have been a -companion for you, my dear; all soul, and such an arm for the harp, but married -to the coastguard in Dorsetshire!--but still nice girls. Well, I'm glad you give -me this account, my dear, for it suits exactly the suggestion I was about to -make. But before I made it I wanted to be quite sure of your position at -Woolgreaves, and to know for certain that you were liked by all the family."</p> - -<p>"You are not certain of that yet, doctor. There is one of the family about -whom you have made no inquiry."</p> - -<p>"One of the family--at Woolgreaves? Oh, by Jove, Tom--Master Tom! I recollect -now--a most important personage in his own esteem, and really some one to be -thought of in such a matter as this. And how does Master Tom behave to you?"</p> - -<p>"Like a--like a scoundrel!" cried Marian, her eyes flashing, and all the -colour ablaze in her cheeks: "He has been, ever since we have been there, either -rude and rough, or sulky and unpleasant; but to-day, just before I saw you, not -an hour ago, he met me in the fields, and insulted me in the grossest manner; -talked about our poverty, and hinted that--hinted----" and the remainder of the -sentence was lost in a burst of tears.</p> - -<p>"Happy hit of mine, that," muttered the doctor to himself. "I seem to be -distinguishing myself to-day. Young ruffian, that Tom. He shall have a pretty -dose next time I'm sent for to him, I'll take care.--Come, my dear, then, you -must not mind; he's only a boy--a rude beastly boy, with no manners, and no -heart either, and not much chest or stomach, for the matter of that. You must -not mind him. It's a pity he's not nice to you, because he has a certain power -in that house; and if he were to pronounce himself as decidedly in opposition to -the little scheme I had in my mind, and about which I was going to talk to you, -it is very probable it might fall to the ground. But there are various ways of -getting over objectionable boys. Lord bless me! in my time I've taken boys into -the surgery, and brought them round by a handful of acidulated drops, and have -tamed the most refractory by a Tolu lozenge."</p> - -<p>"I scarcely think that Tom Creswell is to be bought over on such easy terms," -said Marian, with a faint and weary smile. "But, doctor, what was the suggestion -you were about to make?"</p> - -<p>"Simply this, my dear: That instead of your removing into Mrs. Swainson's -lodgings, which are by no means suited for you, and where I should be very sorry -to see you, or into any lodging at all, you should--when I say you, I mean, of -course, you and Mrs. Ashurst--should remain at Woolgreaves."</p> - -<p>"Remain at Woolgreaves? For how long?"</p> - -<p>"Well, as romantic or thoughtless people say, 'for ever;' at all events, -until the condition of each of you is changed--by different means, let us hope."</p> - -<p>"And under what conditions is this scheme to be realised? I suppose Mr. -Creswell would scarcely take us in as boarders at Woolgreaves, doctor?"</p> - -<p>"No, my dear child, no. You are pleased to be satirical, but I am in earnest. -That the labourer is worthy of his hire is a principle that has been recognised -for centuries; and you shall labour, and for hire. See here, this is how the -thought first came into my head. Mrs. Caddy, the housekeeper at Woolgreaves, a -very worthy woman, has been ailing of late, and came to consult me last week. -Our climate don't do for her. She's a little touched in the chest, and must get -away further south for the winter. I told her so plainly, and she didn't seem at -all uncomfortable about it. Her friends live in Devonshire, and she's saved a -good bit of money, I should think, since she's been in Mr. Creswell's service. -All that seemed to worry her was what they would do at Woolgreaves without her. -She harped upon this several times, and at last a ray of light seemed to break -upon her as she asked why her place should not be taken by 't' young girl, -schoolmaster's daughter?'"</p> - -<p>"Dear me! Mrs. Caddy's place taken by me?"</p> - -<p>"By you. It was an irreverent way to speak of you, Marian my dear, I'll -admit, but there was no irreverence intended. Mrs. Caddy, once set going, -launched out into an interminable list of your special virtues. There never was -a girl who 'cottoned' so completely to her style of pickling and preserving; -there never was a girl who so intuitively grasped the great secret of making -cherry-brandy, or who so quickly perceived the shortcomings of the still-room -maid in the matter. And this talk of the worthy woman's gave me an idea."</p> - -<p>"The same idea as Mrs. Caddy's?"</p> - -<p>"The same, with a difference. Mrs. Caddy's was preposterous, mine is -possible. And mine is this: When Mrs. Caddy goes, let it be understood that Mrs. -Ashurst has consented to superintend the Woolgreaves household. There would be -nothing derogatory in the position; all with whom she would be brought in -contact would take care of that; and though she would not have the least -qualification for the post, poor woman--no affront to you, my dear, but she -wouldn't--you would be able to keep all smooth, and take care that everything -went straight."</p> - -<p>"But even such an establishment as Woolgreaves would not require two -housekeepers, doctor?"</p> - -<p>"Of course it would not," said the old gentleman, pleased to see by Marian's -brightening face that the proposition was not so disagreeable to her. "Of course -it would not. Mrs. Ashurst would be the responsible housekeeper, while your -position as companion to the young ladies could be very easily defined, and -would be very readily understood. Do you like the plan?"</p> - -<p>All the details of the proposition rushed through her mind before she spoke. -Home-comforts, luxury, good living, warmth, care, attention, money, or at least -the command if not the possession of money, that is what it meant, instead of a -wretched lodging, a starveling income, penury, and perhaps, so far as certain -necessaries for her mother were concerned, want. What would they sacrifice? Not -freedom--they had never had it; and if their lives were still to be passed in -drudgery, it would, at all events, be better to be the drudge of a kind old man -and two insignificant girls, than of a set of rackety schoolboys, as they had -hitherto been. Position? No sacrifice there; the respect always paid to them was -paid to them as James Ashurst's wife and daughter, and that respect they would -still continue to receive. All in the village knew them, the state of their -finances, the necessity of their availing themselves of any opportunity for -bettering their condition which might present itself; and out of the village -they had but few acquaintances, and none for whose opinion they had the least -care. So Marian, with beaming eyes and heightened colour, said--</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear old friend, frankly, I <i>do</i> like the plan. If it were carried -out an immense load of anxiety would be removed from my mind respecting mamma's -immediate future, you know, and it would suit our circumstances in various ways. -Is it possible? How can it be brought about?"</p> - -<p>"You are as prompt as ever, Marian," said the doctor, smiling. "I never saw a -girl retain so many of her childish characteristics." Marion winced a little as -he said this, remembering Tom's remarks that afternoon on her childish character -as depicted by Mesdames Whicher and Croke. "Yes, I think it is perfectly -feasible, and it can be brought about by me. Mr. Creswell, having known me for -many years, and believing that I never advise him but for his good, is always -ready to listen to any advice I give him, and if I judge rightly, will be -already predisposed to agree with this proposition, and to take it as though you -and your mamma were conferring a favour on him rather than---- Dear me, look at -this foolish fellow coming towards us at full gallop! The man must be -drunk.--Hallo, sir; hi, hallo!--Why, it's one of the Woolgreaves grooms, isn't -it? I think I know the man's appearance.--Hallo, sir, hi! what is it?" and the -little doctor pulled the chaise close into the left bank, and stood up, waving -his whip, and shouting lustily.</p> - -<p>The horseman, who was urging his horse to yet faster speed, paid no attention -to the shouts, and contented himself by rising in his stirrups and waving his -hand as though bespeaking a clear way, until he came close upon the chaise, when -he apparently recognised its occupants, and strove to pull up his horse. With -some difficulty, and not until he had shot past them, he succeeded; then turning -back, he cried out--</p> - -<p>"Dr. Osborne, I was going for you, sir. For God's sake, drive up to the house -at once--you're wanted awful bad!"</p> - -<p>"What is it?" asked the doctor.--"Quiet, my child, don't be alarmed; don't -shake so.--There is nothing happened to your master?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir; Master Tom."</p> - -<p>"What of him--taken ill?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir--chucked off the chestnut mare, and took up for dead in the Five -Acres. Ben Pennington was bird-scarin' close by, and he see the accident and -hollered out, and gave the alarm. And some of the farm-men came and got a -hurdle, and put Master Tom on it and carried him up to the house. Master see 'em -coming, and ran out, and would have fell down when he see who it was, but they -caught hold of him; and they say he's like a madman now, and Miss Maude, she -told me to come after you. Make haste, sir, please. Hadn't you better jump on -this mare, sir? she'll carry you quicker nor that cob of yourn, and I'll drive -Miss Ashurst home."</p> - -<p>"Not for any money," said the doctor; "get on that horse, indeed! There'd be -another accident, and no one to be of any assistance. I shall be up at the house -in a very few minutes; ride on and say I'm coming.--Lord, my dear, fancy such an -interruption to our conversation--such a bombshell bursting over the castle we -were building in the air!"</p> - -<p> -"The doctor wishes to speak to you, miss, outside master's door," said Mrs. -Caddy, in that hissing whisper which servants always assume in a house of -sickness. "He didn't say anything about Master Tom, but his face is as white as -white, and----"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Mrs. Caddy; I'd better go at once;" and Marian left the dining-room, -where she had been doing her best to calm her mother's agitation, which -expressed itself in sparse tears, and head-shakings, and deep-drawn sighs, and -flutterings of her feeble hands, and ascended the stairs. As she gained the -landing, the little doctor, who had evidently been on the watch, came out of a -bedroom, shutting the door cautiously behind him, and hastening to her, took her -hand and led her into the recess of a bay-window, round which was a luxurious -ottoman.</p> - -<p>When they had seated themselves, Marian broke silence.</p> - -<p>"You have examined him, doctor? You know the worst?"</p> - -<p>"I say nothing about the worst, my dear, as I just told our old friend; that -is not for us to say. Poor boy! he is in a very bad way, there's no disguising -that. It's a case of fracture of the skull, with compression of the brain--a -very bad case indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Does he know what has happened? Has he given any explanation of the -accident?"</p> - -<p>"None. He is insensible, and likely to remain so for some time. Now, my dear, -you're the handiest person in the house, and the one with your wits most about -you. This poor lad will have to be trepanned--ah! you don't understand what that -is; how should you?--I mean, will have to be operated upon before he gets any -relief. Under the circumstances, I don't choose to take the responsibility of -that operation on myself, and, with Mr. Creswell's consent, I've telegraphed to -London for one of our first surgeons to come down and operate. He will bring a -professional nurse with him, but they cannot arrive until the mail at two in the -morning, and as I must go down to the surgery for two or three little matters, -and see some of my patients tucked up for the night, I intend leaving you in -charge of that room. You have nothing to do but to keep everybody else--except, -of course, Mr. Creswell--out of the room. You must not be frightened at Tom's -heavy breathing, or any little restlessness he may show. That's all part of the -case. Now, my child, be brave, and so good night for the present."</p> - -<p>"Good night, doctor. Oh, one minute. You said you had telegraphed for a -London surgeon. What is his name?</p> - -<p>"What on earth makes you ask that, you inquisitive puss?" said the old -gentleman, with a smile. "Have you any choice among London surgeons? His name is -Godby--Godby of St. Vitus!"</p> - -<p> -Godby of St. Vitus! That was the name. She remembered it at once. The man for -whom Dr. Osborne had telegraphed to come and see her father, or rather would -have sent for, but for the amount of his fee. Good God, what a contrast between -that sick room and this! The boy had been carried into his father's bedroom, as -nearer and larger than his own; and as Marian looked around on every side, her -glance fell on signs of comfort and luxury. The room was very large, lit by a -broad bay window, with a splendid view of the surrounding country; the walls -were hung with exquisite proof-prints in oaken frames, a table in the centre was -covered with books and periodicals, while on a smaller table close by the bed -was a plate piled with splendid grapes. The bed itself, with fresh bright chintz -curtains hanging over it, and a rich eider-down quilt thrown on it, stood in a -recess, and on it lay the suffering lad, giving no sign of life save his deep, -heavy, stertorous breathing, and occasional restless motion of the limbs. How -vividly the other room rose to her memory! She saw the ugly panelled walls, with -the cracking, blistering paint, and knew the very spots from which it had been -worn off. She saw the old-fashioned, lumbering bedstead, and the moreen curtains -tied round each sculptured post. She remembered the roseate flush which the -sunlight shed over the face of her dying father, the hopeless expression which -remained there when the light had faded away. It was money, only money, that -made the very wide difference between the two cases, and money could do -anything. Money was fetching this clever surgeon from London, who would probably -save the life of this wretched boy. What was the value of a life like this as -compared to her father's? But, for the want of money, that sacred life had been -suffered to pass away. Thoughts like these crowded on her brain, and worked her -up to a pitch of feverish excitement during the early part of the night. She had -plenty of time for reflection, for she had become accustomed to the regular -heavy breathing of the patient, and no one entered the room save Mr. Creswell, -who would sit for an hour together by his boy's bedside, and then, watch in -hand, get up and murmur piteously: "Will the night never go! Will the man never -come!"</p> - -<p>"The man," Mr. Godby, principal surgical lecturer and demonstrator at St. -Vitus's Hospital, was coming as fast as the mail-train could bring him. Unlike -most of his brethren, he was essentially a man of the world, fond of studying -all sorts and conditions of men, and with all his enormous practice finding time -for society, theatres, music, and literature of all kinds. He was engaged out to -dinner that day--to a very pleasant little dinner, where he was to have met the -private secretary of a Cabinet minister, a newspaper editor, a portrait-painter, -a duke, and a clerk in an insurance office, who gave wonderful imitations. The -hostess was a French actress, and the cooking would have been perfect. So Mr. -Godby shook his head very mournfully over the Helmingham telegram, and had he -not held his old friend Osborne in great respect, and wished to do him a -service, he would have refused to obey its mandate. As it was, he resigned -himself to his fate, and arrived, chilled to the bone, but bright-eyed and -ready-witted, at Woolgreaves at two in the morning. He shook his head when he -saw the patient, and expressed to Dr. Osborne his doubt of the efficacy of -trepanning, but he proposed to operate at once.</p> - -<p> -"It's all over, mother," said Marian to Mrs. Ashurst, the next morning. "Mr. -Godby was right; poor Tom never rallied, and sank at seven this morning."</p> - -<p>"God help his poor father!" said the old lady, through her tears; "he has -nothing left him now."</p> - -<p>"Nothing!" said Marian; then added, half unconsciously--"except his money! -except his money!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> -<h5>LIFE AT WESTHOPE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"Tea, my lady!"</p> - -<p>"Very well. Tell Lady Caroline---- Oh, here you are! I was just sending to -tell you that tea was ready. I saw you come in from your ride before the -curtains were drawn."</p> - -<p>"Did you? Then you must have seen a pretty draggletailed spectacle. I've -caked my habit with mud and torn it into shreds, and generally distinguished -myself."</p> - -<p>"Did Mr. Biscoe blush?"</p> - -<p>"Not a bit of it. Mr. Biscoe's a good specimen of a hard-riding parson, and -seemed to like me the better the muddier and more torn I became. By the way, his -wife is coming to dinner, isn't she? so I must drop my flirtation with the -rector, and be on my best behaviour."</p> - -<p>"Caroline, you are too absurd; the idea of flirting with a man like that!"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, why don't you provide some one better for me? I declare, -Margaret, you are ignorant of the simplest duties of hospitality! I can't flirt -with West, because he's my brother, for one reason, and because you mightn't -like it, perhaps, and because I mightn't care about it myself much. And there's -no one else in the house who---- Oh, by the way, I'll speak about that just -now--who else is coming to dinner?"</p> - -<p>"Some people from the barracks--Colonel Tapp, and Mr. Frampton, the man who -hunted through all those papers the other day to find the paragraph you asked -him about, don't you know; a Mr. Boyd, a good-looking fair-haired boy, with an -eyeglass, one of the Ross-shire Boyds, who is reading somewhere in the -neighbourhood with a tutor; the Biscoes, the Porters--people who live at those -iron gates with the griffins which I showed you; and--I don't know--two or three -others."</p> - -<p>"Oh, heavens, what a cheerful prospect! I hate the army, and I detest -good-looking boys with eyeglasses; and I've been all day with Mr. Biscoe, and I -don't know the griffin people, nor the two or three others. Look here, Margaret, -why don't you ask Mr. Joyce to dinner?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Joyce? I don't know---- Good heavens, Caroline, you don't mean Lord -Hetherington's secretary?"</p> - -<p>"I do indeed, Margaret--why shouldn't I? He is quite nice and gentlemanly, -and has charming eyes."</p> - -<p>"Caroline, I wonder at your talking such nonsense. You ought to know me -sufficiently----"</p> - -<p>"And you ought to know me sufficiently to understand there's nothing on earth -I detest like being bored. I shall be bored out of my life by any of the people -you have mentioned, while I'm sure I should find some amusement in Mr. Joyce."</p> - -<p>"You might probably find a great deal of amusement in Norton, the steward, or -in William, my footman; but you would scarcely wish me to ask them to dinner?"</p> - -<p>"I think not--not in William, at all events. There is a dull decorum about -Mr. Norton which one might find some fun in bearing----"</p> - -<p>"Caroline, be quiet; you are <i>impayable</i>.Are you really serious in what -you say about Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly--why not? I had some talk with him in the library the other day, -and found him most agreeable."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, I will send and say we expect him; will that satisfy you?</p> - -<p>"No, certainly not! Seriously, Margaret, for one minute. You know that I was -only in fun, and that it cannot matter one atom to me whether this young man is -asked to join your party or not. Only, if you <i>do</i> -ask him, don't send. You know the sort of message which the footman would -deliver, no matter what formula had been intrusted to him; and I should be very -sorry to think that Mr. Joyce, or any other gentleman, should be caused a -mortification through any folly of mine."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you think I ought to go to him and offer him a verbal invitation?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, if you want him at all--I mean, if you intend asking him to -dinner. You'll be sure to find him in the library. Now, I'm dying to get rid of -this soaked habit and this clinging skirt! So I'm off to dress."</p> - -<p>And Lady Caroline Mansergh gave her sister-in-law a short nod, and left the -room.</p> - -<p>Left alone, Lady Hetherington took a few minutes to recover herself. Her -sister-in-law Caroline had always been a spoiled child, and accustomed to have -her own way in the old home, in her own house when she married Mr. Mansergh--the -richest, idlest, kindest old gentleman that ever slept in St. Stephen's first -and in Glasnevin Cemetery scarcely more soundly afterwards--and generally -everywhere since she had lost him. But she had been always remarkable for -particularly sound sense, and had a manner of treating objectionably pushing -people which succeeded in keeping them at a distance better even than the frigid -hauteur which Lady Hetherington indulged in. The countess knew this, and, -acknowledging it in her inmost heart, felt that she could make no great mistake -in acceding to her sister-in-law's wishes. Moreover, she reflected, after all it -was a mere small country-house dinner that day; there was no one expected about -whose opinion she particularly cared; and as the man was domiciled in the house, -was useful to Lord Hetherington, and was presentable, it was only right to show -him some civility.</p> - -<p>So, after leaving the drawing-room on her way to dress for dinner, Lady -Hetherington crossed the hall to the library, and at the far end of the room saw -Mr. Joyce at work, under a shaded lamp. She went straight up to him, and was -somewhat amused at finding that he, either not hearing her entrance, or -imagining that it was merely some servant with a message, never raised his head, -but continued grinding away at his manuscript.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Joyce!" said her ladyship, slightly bending forward.</p> - -<p>"Hey?" replied the scribe, in whose ear the tones, always haughty and -imperious, however she might try to soften them, rang like a trumpet-call. "I -beg your pardon, Lady Hetherington," he added, rising from his seat; "I had no -idea you were in the room."</p> - -<p>"Don't disturb yourself, Mr. Joyce; I only looked in to say that we have a -few friends coming to dinner tonight, and it will afford Lord Hetherington and -myself much pleasure if you will join us."</p> - -<p>"I shall be most happy," said Mr. Joyce.</p> - -<p>And then Lady Hetherington returned his bow, and he preceded her down the -room, and opened the door to let her pass.</p> - -<p>"As if he'd been a squire of dames from his cradle," said her ladyship to -herself. "The man has good hands, I noticed, and there was no awkwardness about -him."</p> - -<p>"What does this mean?" said Walter Joyce, when he reached his own room and -was dressing for dinner. "These people have been more civil than I could have -expected them to be to a man in my position, and Lord Hetherington especially -has been kindness itself; but they have always treated me as what I am--'his -lordship's secretary.' Whence this new recognition? One comfort is that, thanks -to old Jack Byrne's generosity, I can make a decent appearance at their table. I -laughed when he insisted on providing me with dress-clothes, but he knew better. -'They can't do you any harm, my boy,' I recollect his saying, 'and they may do -you some good;' and now I see how right he was. Fancy my going into society, and -beginning at this phase of it I wonder whether Marian would be pleased? I -wonder----"</p> - -<p>And he sat down on the edge of his bed and fell into a dreamy abstracted -state; the effect caused by Marian's last long letter was upon him yet. He had -answered it strongly--far more strongly than he had ever written to her -before--pointing out that, at the outset, they had never imagined that life's -path was to be made smooth and easy to them; they had always known that they -would have to struggle; and that it was specially unlike her to fold her hands -and beg for the unattainable, simply because she saw it in the possession of -other people. "She dared not tell him how little hope for the future she had." -That was a bad sign indeed. In their last parting walk round the garden of the -old schoolhouse at Helmingham she had hinted something of this, and he thought -he had silenced her on the point; but her want of hope, her abnegation of -interest, was now much more pronounced; and against such a feeling he inveighed -with all the strength and power of his honest soul. If she gave in, what was to -become of him, whose present discomforts were only made bearable by anticipation -of the time when he would have her to share his lot?</p> - -<p>"And after all, Marian," he had said in conclusion, "what does it all mean? -This money for which you wish so much--I find the word studding every few lines -of your letter--this splendour, luxury, comfort--call it by what name you -will--what does it all mean?--who benefits by it? Not the old gentleman who has -passed his life in slaving for the acquisition of wealth! As I understand from -you, his wife is dead, and his son almost estranged from him. Is this the end of -it? If you could see his inmost heart, is he not pining for the woman who stood -by his side during the conflict, and does he not feel the triumph empty and -hollow without her to share it with him? Would he not sooner have his son's love -and trust and confidence than the conservatory and the carriages and the -splendour on which you dwell so rapturously? If you could know all, you would -learn that the happiest time of his life was when he was striving in company -with her he loved, and that the end now attained, however grand it may be, -however above his original anticipations, is but poor and vain now she is not -there to share it with him. Oh, Marian, my heart's darling, think of this, and -be assured of its truth! So long as we love each other, so long as the sincerity -of that love gives us confidence in each other, all will be well, and it will be -impossible to shut out hope. It is only when a shadow crosses that love--a -catastrophe which seems impossible, but which we should pray God to avert--that -hope can in the smallest degree diminish. Marian, my love, my life, think of -this as I place it before you! We are both young, both gifted with health and -strength and powers of endurance. If we fight the battle side by side, if we are -not led away by envy and induced to fix the standard of our desires too high, we -shall, we <i>must</i> succeed in attaining what we have so often hopefully -discussed--the happiness of being all in all to each other, and leading our -lives together, 'for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in -health, till death do us part.' I confess I can imagine no greater bliss--can -you?"</p> - -<p>He had had no answer to this letter, but that had not troubled him much. He -knew that Marian was not fond of correspondence, that in her last letter she had -given a full account of her new life, and that she could have but little to say; -and he was further aware that a certain feeling of pride would prevent her from -too readily indorsing his comments on her views. That she agreed with those -comments, or that they would commend themselves to her natural sound sense on -reflection, he had no doubt; and he was content to await calmly the issue of -events.</p> - -<p>The party assembled were waiting the announcement of dinner in the library, -and when Joyce entered the room Lord Hetherington left the rug where he had been -standing with two other gentlemen, and, advancing towards his secretary, took -his hand and said--</p> - -<p>"I am glad her ladyship has persuaded you to come out of seclusion, Mr. -Joyce. Too much--what is it?--books, and work, and that kind of thing, -is--is--the deuce, in point of fact!" And then his lordship went back to the -rug, and Joyce having received a sufficiently distant bow from Lady -Hetherington, retreated into a darkish corner of the room, into which the -flickering firelight did not penetrate, and glanced around him.</p> - -<p>Lady Hetherington looked splendidly handsome, he thought. She was dressed in -maroon-coloured velvet, the hues of which lit up wonderfully in the firelight, -and showed her classically shaped head and head-dress of velvet and black lace. -Joyce had read much of Juno-looking women, but he had never realised the idea -until he gazed upon that calm, majestic, imperious face, so clearly cold in -outline, those large, solemnly radiant eyes, that splendidly moulded figure. The -man who was bending over her chair as he addressed her--not deferentially, as -Joyce felt that (not from her rank, but rather her splendid beauty) she should -be addressed; on the contrary, rather flippantly--had a palpable curly wig, -shaved cheeks, waxed moustache, and small white hands, which he rubbed gently -together in front of him. He was Colonel Tapp, a Crimean hero, a very Paladin in -war, but who had been worn by time, not into slovenry, but into coxcombry. Mr. -Biscoe, the rector of the parish--a big, broad-shouldered, bull-headed man, with -clean-cut features, wholesome complexion, and breezy whiskers: excellent parson -as well as good cross-country man, and as kind of heart as keen at sport--stood -by her ladyship's side, and threw an occasional remark into the conversation. -Joyce could not see Lady Caroline Mansergh, but he heard her voice coming from a -recess in the far side of the fireplace, and mingled with its bright, ringing -Irish accent came the deep growling bass of Captain Frampton, adjutant of the -depot battalion, and a noted amateur singer. The two gentlemen chatting with -Lord Hetherington on the rug were magnates of the neighbourhood, representatives -of county families centuries old. Mr. Boyd, a very good-looking young gentleman, -with crisp wavy hair and pink-and-white complexion, was staring hard at nothing -through his eyeglass, and wondering whether he could fasten one of his studs, -which had come undone, without any one noticing him; and Mr. Biscoe was in -conversation with a foxy-looking gentleman with sunken eyes, sharp nose, and -keen, gleaming teeth, in whom Joyce recognised Mr. Gould, Lord Hetherington's -London agent, who was in the habit of frequently running down on business -matters, and whose room was always kept ready for him.</p> - -<p>Dinner announced and general movement of the company. At the table Joyce -found himself seated by Lady Caroline Mansergh, her neighbour on the other side -being Captain Frampton. After bowing and smiling at Mr. Joyce, Lady Caroline -said--</p> - -<p>"Now, Captain Frampton, continue, if you please!"</p> - -<p>"Let me see!" said the captain, a good soldier and a good singer, but not -burdened with more brains than are necessary for these professions--"let me see! -Gad--'shamed to say, Lady Car'line, forgot what we were talkin' of!"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Chennery--you remember now?"</p> - -<p>"Yas, yas, course, thousand pardons! Well, several people who heard him at -Carabas House think him wonderful."</p> - -<p>"A tenor, you say?"</p> - -<p>"Pure tenor, one of the richest, purest tenor voices ever heard! Man's -fortune's made--if he only behaves himself!"</p> - -<p>"How do you mean, 'behaves himself,' Captain Frampton?" asked Lady Caroline, -raising her eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"Well, I mean sassiety, and all that kind of thing, Lady Caroline! Man not -accustomed to sassiety might, as they say, put his foot in it!"</p> - -<p>"I see," said Lady Caroline, with an assumption of gravity. "Exactly! and -that would indeed be dreadful. But is this gentleman not accustomed to society?"</p> - -<p>"Not in the least; and in point of fact not a gentleman, so far as I'm led to -understand. Father's a shepherd; outdoor labouring something down at Lord -Westonhanger's place in Wiltshire; boy was apprenticed to a stonemason, but -people staying at the house heard of his singing, sent for him, and Lord -Westonhanger was so charmed with his voice, had him sent to Italy and taught. -That's the story!"</p> - -<p>"Surely one that reflects great credit on all concerned," said Lady Caroline. -"But I yet fail to see why Mr. Chennery should not behave himself!"</p> - -<p>"Well, you see, Lady Caroline, Carabas House, and that sort of thing--people -he'll meet there, you know, different from anything he's ever seen before."</p> - -<p>"But he can but be a gentleman, Captain Frampton. If he were a prince, he -could be no more!"</p> - -<p>"No, exactly, course not; but pardon me, that's just it, don't you see, the -difficulty is for the man to be a gentleman."</p> - -<p>"Not at all; not the slightest difficulty!" And here Lady Caroline almost -imperceptibly turned a little towards Joyce. "If Mr. Chennery is thrown into -different society from that to which he has been hitherto accustomed, and is at -all nervous about his reception or his conduct in it, he has merely to be -natural and just as he always has been, to avoid any affectation, and he cannot -fail to please. The art which he possesses, and the education he has received, -are humanising influences, and he certainly contributes more than the average -quota towards the enjoyment of what people call society."</p> - -<p>Whether Captain Frampton was unconvinced by the argument, whether he found a -difficulty in pursuing it, or whether he had by this time realised the fact that -the soup was of superior quality, and worth paying attention to, are moot -points; at all events, the one thing certain was, that he bowed and slightly -shrugged his shoulders, and relapsed into silence, while Lady Caroline, with a -half smile of victory, which somehow seemed to include Walter Joyce in its -expanding ripple, replied across the table to a polite query of Mr. Biscoe's in -reference to their recent ride.</p> - -<p>She certainly was very beautiful! Joyce had thought so before, as he had -caught transient glimpses of her flitting about the house; but now that he had, -unnoticed and unseen, the opportunity of quietly studying her, he-was astonished -at her beauty. Her face was very pale, with an impertinent little nose, and -deep-violet eyes, and a small rosebud of a mouth; but perhaps her greatest charm -lay in her hair, which lay in heavy thick chestnut clumps over her white -forehead. Across it she wore the daintiest bit of precious lace, white lace, the -merest apology for a cap, two long lapels pinned together by a diamond brooch, -while the huge full clump at the back, unmistakably real, was studded with small -diamond stars. She was dressed in a blue-satin gown, set off with a profusion of -white lace, and on her arm she wore a large heavy gold bracelet. Walter Joyce -found himself gazing at her in an odd indescribable way. He had never seen -anything like her, never realised such a combination of beauty, set off by the -advantages of dress and surroundings. Her voice too, so bright and clear and -ringing, and her manner to him--to him? Was it not to him that she had really -addressed these words of advice, although they were surely said in apparent -reply to Captain Frampton's comments? If that were so, it was indeed kind of -Lady Caroline, true noble-hearted kindness: he must write and tell Marian of it.</p> - -<p>He was thinking of this, and had in his mind a picture, confused indeed, but -full of small details which had a strange interest for him, and a vivid sadness -too, of the contrast between the scene of which he formed at this moment a part, -and those familiar to himself and to Marian. He was thinking of the homely -simple life of the village, of the dear dead friend, so much a better man, so -much a truer gentleman than any of these people, who were of so much importance -in a world where he had been of so little; of the old house, the familiar -routine of life, not wearisome with all its sameness, the sweetness of his first -love. He was thinking of the splendour, the enervating bewildering luxury of his -present surroundings, among which he sat so strange, so solitary, save for the -subtle reassuring influence, the strange, unaccountable support and something -like companionship in the tones of that fair and gracious lady's voice, in the -light of her swift flitting smile, in which he thought he read an admission that -the company was little more to her taste than to his, had as little in common -with her intellectual calibre as with his. He could not have told how she -conveyed this impression to him, if he had tried to explain his feelings to any -third person; he could not explain it to himself, when he thought over the -events of the evening, alone in his room, which was a dingy apartment when -compared with the rest of the house, but far better than any which had ever -called him master; but there it was, strong and strangely attractive, mingling -with the sights and sounds around him, and with the dull dead pain at his heart -which had been caused by Marian's letter, and which he had never quite succeeded -in conquering. There were unshed but not unseen tears in his eyes, and a slight -tremulous motion in his lips, which one pair of eyes at the table, quick with -all their languor, keen with all their disdainful slowness, did not fail to see. -The owner of those beautiful eyes did not quite understand, could not "fathom" -the meaning of the sudden glitter in his--"idle tears," indeed, on such an -occasion, and in such company!--but, with the fine unfailing instinct of a -coquette, she discerned, more clearly than Walter Joyce himself had felt it, -that she counted for something in the origin and meaning of those unshed tears -and of that nervous twitching.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline had just removed her eyes with well-feigned carelessness from -Walter's face, after a covert glance, apparently casual, but in reality -searching, in order to effect which she had leaned forward and plucked some -geranium-leaves from a bouquet near her on the table; and Walter was removing -himself still farther from the scene around, into the land of reverie, when a -name spoken by Mr. Gould, and making an odd accidental harmony with his -thoughts, fixed his wandering attention.</p> - -<p>"What sort of weather had you in Hampshire?" asked Lord Hetherington, in one -of those irksome pauses usually selected by some individual who is at once -commonplace and good-natured enough to distinguish himself by uttering an inane -sentiment, or asking an awkward question.</p> - -<p>"Awful, I should fancy," said Lady Hetherington, in the most languid of her -languid tones. "Awful, if it has been like the weather here. Were you really -obliged to travel, Mr. Gould? I can't fancy any one going anywhere in such -weather."</p> - -<p>"As it happened," said Mr. Gould, with a rather impatient glance towards her -ladyship--for he could not always smile complacently when she manifested her -normal unconsciousness that anybody could have anything to do not entirely -dependent on his or her own pleasure and convenience--"as it happened, I had not -to go. A few days after I told his lordship the particulars of the sale of land, -I had a letter informing me that the matter was all off for the present."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Lord Hetherington; "a domed bore for Langley, isn't it? He has -been wanting to pick up something in that neighbourhood for a long time. But the -sale will ultimately come off, I suppose, unless some one buys the land over -Langley's head by private contract."</p> - -<p>"There's no fear of that, I think," said Mr. Gould; "but I took precautions. -I should not like Sir John to lose the slice off Woolgreaves he wants. The place -is in a famous hunting country, and the plans are settled upon--like Sir John, -isn't it?--for his hunting-box."</p> - -<p>"I don't know that part of Hampshire at all," said Lord Hetherington, -delighted at finding a subject on which he could induce one of his guests to -talk without his being particularly bound to listen. "Very rich and rural, isn't -it? Why didn't the--ah, the person sell the land Langley wanted there?"</p> - -<p>"For rather a melancholy reason," replied Mr. Gould, while Lady Hetherington -and the others looked bored by anticipation. Rather inconsiderate and bad taste -of Mr. Gould to talk about "melancholy reasons" in a society which only his -presence and that of the secretary rendered at all "mixed." But Mr. Gould, who -was rather full of the subject, and who had the characteristic--so excellent in -a man of business in business hours, but a little tiresome in social moments--of -believing that nothing could equal in interest his clients' affairs, or in -importance his clients themselves, went on, quite regardless of the strong -apathy in the face of the countess. "The letter which prevented my going down to -Woolgreaves on the appointed day was written by a lady residing in the house, to -inform me that the owner of the property, a Mr. Creswell, very well known in -those parts, had lost his only son, and was totally unfit to attend to any -business. The boy was killed, I understand, by a fall from his pony."</p> - -<p>"Tom Creswell killed!" exclaimed Walter Joyce, in a tone which directed the -attention of every one at the table to the "secretary."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," Joyce went on, "but will you kindly tell me all you know -of this matter? I know Mr. Creswell, and I knew this boy well. Are you sure of -the fact of his death?"</p> - -<p>The paleness of Walter's face, the intensity of his tone, held Lady -Caroline's attention fixed upon him. How handsome he was! and the man could -evidently feel too! How nice it would be to make him feel, to see the face pale, -and to hear the voice deepen, like that, for her! It would be quite <i>new</i>.She -had any amount of flirtation always at hand, whenever she chose to summon its -aid in passing the time; but feeling did not come at call, and she had never had -much of <i>that</i> -given her. These were the thoughts of only a moment, flashing through her mind -before Mr. Gould had time to answer Joyce's appeal.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry I mentioned the fact at so inappropriate a time," said Mr. Gould, -"but still more sorry that there is no doubt whatever of its truth. Indeed, I -think I can show you the letter." Mr. Gould wore a dress-coat, of course, but he -could not have dined comfortably if he had not transferred a mass of papers from -his morning-coat to its pockets. This mass he extricated with some difficulty, -and selecting one, methodically indorsed with the date of its receipt, from the -number, he handed it to Walter.</p> - -<p>Lady Hetherington was naturally shocked at the infringement of the <i> -bien-séances</i> caused by this unfortunate incident, and was glancing from Mr. -Gould to Mr. Joyce--from one element of the "mixture" in the assembled society -to the other, with no pleasant expression of countenance--when Lady Caroline -came to the rescue, with gracefulness, deftness, lightness all her own, and by -starting an easy unembarrassed conversation with the gentleman opposite to her, -in which she skilfully included her immediate neighbours, she dissipated all the -restraints which had temporarily fallen upon the party. Something interesting to -the elevated minds of the party, something different from the unpleasantness of -a boy being killed whom nobody knew anything about, at a place which did not -belong to anybody,--and the character of the dinner-party, momentarily -threatened, was triumphantly retrieved.</p> - -<p>Walter saw that the letter which Mr. Gould handed him was in Marian's -writing. It contained an announcement of the calamity which had occurred, and an -intimation that Mr. Creswell could not attend to any matters of business at -present. That was all. Walter read the brief letter with sincere concern, -commiseration for the childless rich man, and also with the thrill, half of -curiosity, half of painless jealousy, with which one regards the familiar and -beloved handwriting, when addressed, however formally, to another. He returned -the letter to Mr. Gould, with a simple expression of thanks, and sat silent. No -one noticed him. Every one had forgotten the dismal occurrence about somebody -whom nobody knew, down in some place that did not belong to anybody. He had time -to think unquestioned.</p> - -<p>"I wonder she has not written to me. The accident occurred four days ago," he -thought. "I suppose she has too much to do for them all. God bless her, she will -be their best comfort."</p> - -<p>Though unversed in the minor arts and smaller tactics of society, Walter was -not so dull or awkward as to be ignorant of the skill and kindness with which -Lady Caroline had acted on his behalf. When the ladies were to leave the room, -as she passed him, their eyes met, and each looked at the other steadily. In her -glance there was undisguised interest, in his--gratitude.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> -<h5>LADY CAROLINE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The Lady Caroline liked late hours. She was of a restless temperament, and -hated solitude, though she was also intolerant of anything like dulness in her -associates, and had sufficient taste for the accomplishments which she possessed -to render her independent of society. Nevertheless she underwent an immense deal -of boredom rather than be alone, and whenever she found herself in a country -house, she set to work to form a coterie of late sitters, in order to avoid the -early hours which were her abhorrence. She was not an empty-headed woman--far -from it. She had a good deal more knowledge than most women of her class, and a -great deal of appreciation, some native humour, and much of the kind of tact and -knowledge of society which require the possession and the exercise of brains. -Nobody would have pronounced her stupid, but every one agreed that she was -supercilious and superficial. The truth was that she was empty-hearted, and -where that void exists, no qualities of head will fill it; and even those who do -not know what it is they miss in the individual are impressed by the effect of -the deficiency. The Lady Caroline loved no one in the world except herself, and -sometimes she took that solitary object of affection in disgust, which, if -transient, was deep. She had arrived at Westhope in one of those passing fits of <i> -ennui</i>,mingled with impatience and disgust of herself and irritation with -everybody around her. She never at any time liked Westhope particularly, and her -brother and his wife had no more interest for her, no more share in her -affections, than any other dull lord and lady among the number of dull lords and -ladies with whom she was acquainted. Her brother loved her rather more than -other people loved her, and Lady Hetherington and she, though they "got on" -charmingly, knew perfectly well that the very tepid regard which they -entertained for each other had nothing in it resembling sympathy or -companionship.</p> - -<p>When the Lady Caroline retired to her own rooms after the dinner-party at -which Walter Joyce had learned the news from Woolgreaves, she was no more -inclined than usual to try the efficacy of a "beauty" sleep; but she was much -less inclined to grumble at the dulness of Westhope, to wish the countess could -contrive to have another woman or two whom she might talk to of an evening, and -who would not want such a lot of sleep to be resorted to so absurdly early, and -to scold her maid, than usual. The maid perceived the felicitous alteration in -her ladyship's mood immediately. It made an important difference to her. Lady -Caroline allowed her to remove all her ornaments and to brush her hair without -finding fault with her, and surprised the patient Abigail, who must have had it -"made very well worth her while" to endure the fatigues of her office, by -telling her she should not require her any longer, and that she was sure she -must be tired. Left to herself, the Lady Caroline did not feel so impatient of -her solitude as usual, but fell into a reverie which occupied her mind -completely. We have seen this nobly born, and in some respects (chiefly -external) highly gifted, woman as she appeared among her brother's guests. While -she sat by the fire in her dressing-room--with which she never dispensed, at any -season, in "the odious English climate," as she was wont to call it--l-et us -look into her life and see her as she really was.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline Mansergh had married, or rather, her mother had married her to, -a gentleman of considerable importance, wealth, and more than mature years, when -she was just seventeen. Very fair and very sweet seventeen, whom it had been -somewhat difficult to convince of the delights and advantages of being "an old -man's darling." But Lady Hetherington had not accustomed her children to gentle -or affectionate treatment, or to having their inclinations consulted in any way. -She no more recognised Lady Caroline's right to choose her own husband than she -would have consulted her taste in her babyhood about her own sashes; and the -girl's feeble attempt at remonstrance in opposition to the solid advantages of -the proposals made by Mr. Mansergh did not produce the least effect at the time. -Her ladyship carried her point triumphantly, and the girl found her fate more -endurable, on the whole, than she had expected. But she never forgave her -mother, and that was rather odd, though not, when looked into, very -unreasonable; Mr. Mansergh never forgave her either. The countess had -accomplished his wishes for him, the countess had bestowed upon him the wife he -coveted, but she had deceived him, and when he won his wife's confidence he -found her mother out. He had not been se foolish as to think the girl loved him, -but he had believed she was willing to become his wife--he had never had a -suspicion of the domestic scenes which had preceded that pretty <i>tableau -vivant</i> at St. George's, Hanover Square, in which every emotion proper to the -occasion had been represented to perfection. Fortunately for Lady Caroline, her -elderly husband was a perfect gentleman, and treated her with indulgence, -consideration, and respect, which appealed successfully to her feelings, and -were rewarded by a degree of confidence on her part, which insured her safety -and his peace in the hazardous experiment of their unequal marriage. She told -him frankly all about herself, her tastes, her feelings--the estrangement, -almost amounting to dislike, which existed between herself and her mother--the -attempt she had made to avoid her marriage; in short, the whole story of her -brief life, in which there had been much to deplore. Mr. Mansergh possessed much -firmness of character and good sense, which, though it had not preserved him -from the folly of marrying a girl young enough to be his daughter, came to his -aid in making the best (and that much better than could have been expected) of -the perilous position. Lady Caroline did not, indeed, learn to love her husband -in the sense in which alone any woman can be justified in becoming the wife of -any man, but she liked him better than she liked any one in the world, and she -regarded him with real and active respect, a sentiment which she had never -entertained previously for any one. Thus it fell out--contrary to the -expectations of "society," which would have acted in the aggregate precisely as -Lady Hetherington had done, but which would also have congratulated itself on -its discernment, and exulted hugely had the matrimonial speculation turned out a -failure--that Lady Caroline Mansergh was happy and respectable. She never gave -cause for the smallest scandal; she was constantly with her husband, and was so -naturally unaffectedly cheerful and content in his company, that not the most -censorious observer could discover that he was used as a shield or a pretence. -There was a perfectly good understanding between Mr. Mansergh and his young wife -on all points; but if there was more complete accord on one in particular than -on others, it was in keeping the countess at a distance. The manoeuvring mother -profited little by the success of her scheme. To be sure she got rid of her -daughter at the comparatively trifling expense of a splendid <i>trousseau</i>,and -the unconsidered risk of the welfare and the reputation of the daughter in -question, and she had the advantage over the majority of her friends of having -married her advantageously in her first season. But the profit of the -transaction terminated there. In her daughter's house Lady Hetherington remained -on the same ceremonious footing as any other visiting acquaintance, and every -attempt she made either to interfere or advise was met by a polite and resolute -coldness, against the silent obstinacy of which she would have striven -unsuccessfully had she not been much too wise to strive at all. If the barrier -had been reared by Lady Caroline's hands alone, though they were no longer -feeble, the countess would have flung it down by the force of her imperious -will; but when she found that her daughter had her husband's opinion and -authority to back her, Lady Hetherington executed the strategic movement of -retreat with celerity and discretion, and would never have been suspected of -discomfiture had she not spoken of her daughter henceforth with suspicious -effusion. Then "society" smiled, and knew all about it, and felt that Mr. -Mansergh had been foolish indeed, but not immoderately, not unpardonably so. -Lady Caroline was very popular and very much admired, and had her only friend's -life been prolonged for a few years, until she had passed the dangerous period -of youth, she might have been as worthy of esteem and affection as she was -calculated to inspire admiration. But Mr. Mansergh died before his wife was -twenty-three years old, and left her with a large fortune, brilliant beauty, and -just sufficient knowledge of the world to enable her to detect and despise its -most salient snares, but with a mind still but half educated, desultory habits, -and a wholly unoccupied heart. Her grief for her husband's loss, if not poignant -and torturing, was at least sincere, deep, and well founded. When he died, she -had said to herself that she should never again have so true, so wise, and so -constant a friend, and she was right. Life had many pleasant and some good -things in store for Lady Caroline Mansergh, but such a love as that with which -her husband had loved her was not among them. She acknowledged this always; the -impression did not fade away with the first vehemence of grief--it lasted, and -was destined to deepen. She strayed into a bad "set" before long, and to her -youth and impulsiveness, with her tendency to <i>ennui</i>,and her sad freedom -from all ties of attachment, the step from feeling that no one was <i>so</i> -good as her husband had been, to believing that no one else was good at all, was -very easy. And so Lady Caroline acquired a dangerous and demoralising trick of -contempt for her fellows, which she hid under a mask of light and careless -good-nature indeed, and which was seriously offensive to no one, but which -condemned her, nevertheless, to much interior solitude and dreariness. That she -was not <i>of</i> the world she lived in, was due less to any elevation of -sentiment than to a capricious and disdainful humour, which caused her to grow -bored very readily, and to dismiss her associates from her thoughts after a -brief scrutiny, in which their follies and foibles came into strong light, and -the qualities which would have required time and patience to find out remained -undiscovered.</p> - -<p>It had occurred to Lady Caroline Mansergh, on several occasions of late, to -wonder whether she was destined ever to experience the passion called love. She -had not remained ignorant of the science of flirtation up to her present time of -life, but she had not been beguiled, ever so briefly, into mistaking any of her -flirtations for love. So she was accustomed to wonder wearily, when in an -unusually desultory mood, whether she should ever feel that there existed in the -world a human being for whom she should be willing to suffer, with whom life -would be happy, without whom it would be intolerable, and whose welfare she -could deliberately and practically prefer to her own. Of late she had begun to -think that Fate was against her in this particular. The idea of the possibility -of feeling love for one of the men whom she was in the habit of meeting was -quite preposterous; she did not hold her favourite followers half so dear as -Hassan, her black barb, or like them half so well as Gelert, her greyhound. Her -life would doubtless continue to be the bright, fashionable, flimsy, careless, -rather <i>ennuyé</i> existence it had hitherto been, and she should never know -anything of the power, the pain, the engrossing influence of love. So much the -better, she would think, in her more hopeful moods; it must be a narrowing kind -of influence, bounding all one's horizon within such small limits, shutting up -one's mortal vista with one figure.</p> - -<p>When the Lady Caroline dismissed her maid, and resigned herself to reverie, -on this night, it was not, after her accustomed fashion, to dwell in her -thoughts on the dulness, staleness, flatness, and unprofitableness of the world -in general, and the section of it in which she lived in particular. She had -quite a distinct subject for thought, she had a figure and a face in her fancy, -a voice in her memory which filled them wholly. What if she had been wrong, if -not only love were coming to her, to fill her life with delight, and turn its -weariness with purpose and meaning, but love at first sight? A ridiculous -notion, entertained by school-girls, housemaids, novelists, and poets, but -scouted by all reasonable people of the world, and in "society." She knew this, -but she did not care; there was a strange delicious thrill about her heart; and -in the swift flight of her thoughts she swept the beams of happy possibilities, -and felt that she could, and would, and did despise society and its notions on -this point.</p> - -<p>What did she know about Walter Joyce? Absolutely nothing, but that he was -young, handsome, brightly intelligent, presumably poor, and socially -insignificant, or he would not be her silly brother's secretary. Her attention -had been directed to him at first, because she felt a compassionate curiosity -about the person whom circumstances had oppressed so cruelly as to oblige him to -purvey ideas, and language in which to express them, for Lord Hetherington. -Curiosity and compassion had been replaced, within a few minutes, by admiration, -which the difference between the manners and bearing of Walter, and those of the -men with whom she was accustomed to associate, rather tended to increase. There -was no awkwardness about Walter, but neither was there the slightest pretence. -He was at ease in the unaccustomed company he found himself among, but he did -not affect to be other than an observant stranger in it.</p> - -<p>"He has an intellect and a heart," said Lady Caroline half aloud, as she rose -from her seat by the fireside, and brought her reverie to a conclusion, "and why -should I care for the world's opinion? It could not make me happy, if I -conciliated it; but I think <i>he</i> could, if I defied it for his sake."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> -<h5>"NEWS FROM THE HUMMING CITY."</h5> -<br> - -<p>After the ladies left the dining-room, Walter Joyce, in the general -re-arrangement of seats thereon ensuing, found himself placed next to Mr. Gould. -It was soon obvious that his propinquity was not accidental on Mr. Gould's part. -That keen-looking gentleman at once wheeled round in his chair, helped himself -to a few olives and a glass of the driest sherry within his reach, and then -fixing his bright steel-blue eyes on his neighbour, said--</p> - -<p>"That was news for you, that about young Creswell's accident, Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"It was indeed," replied Walter; "and--to a certain extent--sad news."</p> - -<p>"You knew the boy who was killed, and his father?"</p> - -<p>"Both. I knew the boy well; he was a pupil in the school where I was an -usher, and I knew the father--by sight--as a man in my position would know a man -in his."</p> - -<p>"Ah--of course!" and Mr. Gould glanced more keenly than ever at his -interlocutor, to see whether he was speaking earnestly or contemptuously. -Earnestly, he thought, after a glance, and Joyce fell a little in the worldly -man's opinion. He sucked an olive slowly, made a little pattern on his plate -with the stones, and then said, "Do you think this affair will make any -difference in Mr. Creswell's future?"</p> - -<p>"In his future? Will the loss of his son make any difference in his future? -Are you serious in asking such a question, Mr. Gould? Will it not leave his life -a blank, a vague misery without----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, of course; I know all about that. You'll pardon me, Mr. Joyce, I'm -a much older man than you, and therefore you won't mind my experiencing a -certain amount of delight in your perfect freshness and simplicity. As to -leaving the man's life blank, and all that--nonsense, my dear sir, sheer -nonsense. He'll find plenty of distraction, even at his age, to fill up the -blank. Now, I was not considering the question from a domestic point of view in -the least; what I meant was, do you think that it will alter any of his -intentions as regards public life?"</p> - -<p>"Public life?--Mr. Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeed, public life, Mr. Creswell! I suppose now there's no harm in -telling you that the Conservative authorities in London, the wire-pullers in -Westminster, have long had it in their minds to wrest the seat for Brocksopp -from the Liberals, that at the next general election they have determined to -make the fight, and they have selected Mr. Creswell as their champion."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Creswell of Woolgreaves--going into Parliament?"</p> - -<p>"Well, that's rather a summary way of putting it, Mr. Joyce," said the -lawyer, with a chuckle. "Say rather, going to try to get into Parliament! -Bidwell, of Brocksopp, the Liberal agent, is a deuced long-headed fellow, and -will make a tremendous struggle to keep Mr. Creswell out in the cold. Do you -know Bidwell, of Brocksopp?"</p> - -<p>"I have a slight acquaintance with him."</p> - -<p>"Then you've a slight acquaintance with a remarkably sharp character, and one -who never misses a chance for his party. It will be a tremendous fight, sir, -this next election," said Mr. Gould, warming up, placing all his olive-stones in -a row, and charging at them with his dessert-knife; "they'll do all they can to -beat us, and we shall have to do all we know to hold our own. When I say 'we,' -of course I reckon you as a Conservative."</p> - -<p>"I--I have no political opinions. I take no interest in politics," said Joyce -absently.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell, from any but a domestic point of view, could not rouse an -emotion in him.</p> - -<p>"Don't you indeed? No political opinions? Ah, I remember when I hadn't any -myself. That was--dear me!" and the astute parliamentary agent made a new -pattern with the olive-stones, while his thoughts went back for a quarter of a -century, to a time when he was under articles in Gray's Inn, used to frequent -the Cider Cellars, and was desperately in love with the columbine of the -Adelphi.</p> - -<p>They went to the drawing-room soon afterwards. There was some instrumental -music of the most approved firework style, and then Captain Frampton growled -away at "Il Balen" with great success, and Joyce was just making up his mind to -slip away, when Lady Caroline Mansergh sat down to the piano, and began to sing -one of Moore's melodies to her own accompaniment. Ah, surely it is not laying -one's self open to the charge of fogeyism to grieve over the relegation to the -"Canterbury" of those charming ballads, wherein the brightest fancies were -wedded to the sweetest sounds? If the "makers of the people's ballads" possess -the power ascribed to them, there is, indeed, but little cause to wonder at the -want of tone prevalent in a society, which for its drawing-room music alternates -between mawkish sentimentality and pot-house slang. When the first note of Lady -Caroline's rich contralto voice rippled round the room, the guests standing -about in small knots, coffee-cup in hand, gradually sidled towards the piano, -and ere she had sung the first stanza even Colonel Tapp's ventriloquial -grumbling--he was discussing army estimates, and the infernal attempts at -cheeseparing of the Manchester School--was hushed. No one in the room was -uninfluenced by the singer's spell, on no one had it so much effect as on Walter -Joyce, who sat far away in the shadow of a curtain, an open photograph-book -unheeded on his knee, drinking in the melody and surrendering himself entirely -to its potent charms. His eyes were fixed on the singer, now on her expressive -face, now on her delicate little hands as they went softly wandering over the -keys, but his thoughts were very, very far away. Far away in the old school -garden, with its broad grass-plots, its ruddy wall, its high elm trees, -frame-like bordering the sweet domestic picture. Far away with Marian, the one -love which his soul had ever known. Ah, how visibly he saw her then, the trim -figure noiselessly moving about on its domestic errands, the bright beryl eyes -upturned in eager questioning towards his own, the delicate hand with its long -thin fingers laid in such trusting confidence on his arm! What ages it seemed -since he had seen her! what a tremendous gulf seemed ever to separate them! And -what prospect was there of that union for which they had so fervently prayed? -The position he was to gain--where was that? What progress had he made -in--"friends once linked together I've seen around me fall, like leaves in -wintry weather!" Ay, ay, the poor old dominie, at rest--better there than -anywhere else, better to be out of the strife and the worry, and--good heavens -was this what he had promised her? was this the courage on which he had prided -himself, and which was to carry him through the world? "Brava! brava! Oh, thank -you so very much, Lady Caroline. Mayn't we hope for another? Thanks, so much!" -The song was over; the singer had left the piano. He caught one glance as he -bowed and murmured his thanks. He could not stand it any longer, his thoughts -had completely unmanned him, and he longed for solitude. If it were rude to -leave the party he must brave even Lady Hetherington's wrath, but he would try -and get away unobserved. Now, while the hum of admiration was still going on, -and while people were gathering round Lady Caroline, was the opportunity. He -availed himself of it, slipped away unperceived, and hurried to his own room.</p> - -<p>He closed the door behind him, turned the key, and flung himself on to the -bed, in the dark. He felt that he could contain himself no longer, and now that -he was alone and unseen, there was no further reason to restrain the tears which -had been welling into his eyes, and now flowed unchecked down his cheeks. He was -a man of nervous temperament, highly wrought susceptibilities, and acute -sympathies, which had been over-excited during the evening by the story of Tom -Creswell's death, his own recollections of his past life, and the weird -thought-compelling power of Lady Caroline's music. There was no special occasion -for these tears; he knew nothing had happened to Marian, nothing--no, nothing -had happened calculated in any way to interpose any--any barrier between them; -his position was pleasant, his prospects brighter than he could have hoped--and -yet, and yet! How very strange that she had not written lately!--unless, indeed, -she had been completely absorbed by ministering to the trouble round her. Walter -could easily picture to himself the comfort she must have been to all in the -midst of the desolation which had fallen upon that hitherto prosperous house; he -recollected how even in the midst of her own deep sorrow she had been able, at -the time of her father's death, to rouse her mother from the lethargic state of -grief into which she had fallen; and if Marian could do that then, while her own -heart was bleeding, how much more would she be able to bestir herself now, when -neither for the dead, nor for those left behind, had she anything but a kindly -interest? And might not this sad event prove a useful lesson to her; might it -not prove the one thing needful to render her a perfect character, showing her, -as it would, that there are worse misfortunes than poverty, and that grief can -slip in behind the shields of wealth and position, and abase the heads of their -possessors to the dust? That longing for money and worship of position was the -only blot in Marian's character, as seen by Walter Joyce's eyes, and if this -accident led to its eradication, it would not have been without its beneficent -purpose.</p> - -<p>He rose from the bed, and felt his way towards his dressing-table. As he was -groping for the matches, his hand fell upon an unopened letter. From Marian, -without a doubt; he felt his heart throbbing; at once he struck a light and -looked hurriedly for the familiar writing. No, not from Marian! Totally unlike -her square neatly written notes; a large blue letter, directed in a straggling -hand, and awkwardly folded. Though Joyce was disappointed and, vexed for an -instant, he quickly recovered himself, and he took the letter up and smiled at -it pleasantly, for he had recognised the style and the writing, and he knew that -it had come from old Jack Byrne.</p> - -<p>Thus it ran:</p> - -<p> -"London, Thursday.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAR BOY,</p> - -<p>"You'll wonder I haven't answered that capital letter you sent me, giving a -description of Westhope and its people, and your life there. You'll wonder, -because you are young; when you're as old as I am you won't wonder at anything, -except when you sometimes find a man tell the truth; but you shouldn't wonder -then, because it would only be an accident. I am very glad that you seem to be -so comfortable among the swells, but I never had much fear about it. I know them -root and branch, the whole lot, though I'm only an old bird-stuffer; but I'm -like Ulysses, I've seen men and cities, and used my eyes--used 'em so much that, -by Jove! I don't think they'll last me much longer--at least, for the fine work -in my business. What was I saying? Oh, I see; I know the swells, and I know that -if they see a man respect himself they always respect him. All of 'em, sir; -don't make any mistake about it. All of 'em, the most ineffable transparencies, -who think you're sewn up and stuffed in quite a different way from themselves, -the kindly noodles, and the clever people--for there are clever people, a few, -even among swells--all like to see a man respect himself. You'll have found out -by this time, if you did not know it before, that Lord Hetherington is one of -the kindly noodles, and one of the best of 'em. He can't help believing in his -blood, and his lineage, and his descent from those bloodthirsty, ignorant old -ruffians of the Middle Ages, whose only good was that they killed other -bloodthirsty, ignorant old ruffians, and he can't help being a fool, that being -the penalty which a man generally has to pay for being able to boast of his -descent; but he is harmless and kind-hearted. How goes on the book? Take my -advice, and make it light and anecdotical. Boil down those old chronicles and -parchments of the great West family, and serve them up in a <i>soufflet</i>. -And don't let your heavy pedagogical style be seen in the dish! If you do, -everybody will know at once that my lord has had nothing to do with the book on -the title-page of which his name figures. I suppose it wouldn't do to put in any -bad spelling, would it? That would be immensely reassuring to all who know Lord -Hetherington as to the real authorship.</p> - -<p>"And my lady, how is that <i>grande dame</i>? I've grinned a hundred times, -thinking over your face of indignation and disgust at the manner in which she -received you that day we went to call on their magnificences at the Clarendon, -with a view to your engagement! How does she treat you now? Has she ordered you -to black her boots yet, or to wash her lap-dog, or to take your meals with her -lady's-maid? Or, more likely still, has she never taken any notice at all of -you, having no idea of your existence, beyond the fact that there is a -writing-machine--you--in the library, as there is a churn in the dairy, and a -mangle in the laundry! And does this behaviour gird you, and do you growl -inwardly about it, or are you a philosopher, and able to despise anything that a -woman can do to hurt you? If the latter, come up to town at once, and I will -exhibit you in a show as a <i>lusus naturae</i>,and we will divide the profits -and make our fortunes.</p> - -<p>"And while on that subject, Walter, let me drop my old cynical fun, and talk -to you for a minute honestly and with all the affection of which my hard, -warped, crabbed nature is capable. I can write to you what I couldn't say to -you, my boy, and you won't think me gushing when I tell you that my heart had -been tight locked and barred for years before I saw you, and that I don't think -I've been any the worse since you found a key somehow--God knows how--to unlock -it. Now, then, after that little bit of maudlin nonsense, to what I was going to -say. The first time we were ever in my old room together talking over your -future, I proposed to start you for Australia. You declined, saying that you -couldn't possibly leave England; and when I pressed you about the ties that -bound you here, and learned that you had no father or mother, you boggled, and -hesitated, and broke down, and I was obliged to help you out of your sentence by -changing the subject. Do you remember all that? And do you think I didn't know -what it all meant? That marvellous stupidity of young men, which prevents them -from thinking that any one has ever been young but themselves! I knew that it -meant that you were in love, Walter, and that's what I want to ask you about. -From that hour until the day we pressed hands in farewell at Euston Square, you -never alluded to her again! In the long letter which you sent me, and which now -lies before me, a letter treating fully of your present and your future life, -there is no word of her Don't think I am surprised at a fine, generous, hearty, -hopeful young fellow not giving his love-confidence to a withered, dried-up old -skittle like myself; I never expected it; I should not mention it now, save that -I fear that the state of affairs can be scarcely satisfactory between you, or -you, who have placed your whole story unreservedly before me, would not have -hidden this most important part of it. Nor do I want to ask you for a confidence -which you have not volunteered. I only wish you to examine the matter calmly, -quietly, and under the exercise of your common sense, of which you have plenty. -And if it is unsatisfactory in any way---<i>give it up!</i> Yes, Walter, give it -up! It sounds harshly, ridiculously, I know, but it is honest advice, and if I -had had any one to say it to me years and years ago, and to enforce my adoption -of it, I should have been a very different man. Believe in no woman's love, -Walter; trust no woman's looks, or words, or vows. 'First of all would I fly -from the cruel madness of love,' says Mr. Tennyson, and he is right. Cruel -madness, indeed we laugh at the wretched lunatic who dons a paper crown, and -holds a straw for a sceptre, while all the time we are hugging our own tinsel -vanities, and exulting in our own sham state! That's where the swells have the -pull, my boy! They have no nonsense about mutual love, and fitness, and -congeniality, and all that stuff, which is fitted for nothing but -valentine-mongers and penny-romancists; they are not very wise, but they know -that the dominant passion in a man's heart is admiration of beauty, the dominant -passion in a woman's is ambition, and they go quietly into the mart and arrange -the affair, on the excellent principle of barter. When I was your age I could -not believe in this, had high hopes and aspirations, and scouted the idea of -woman's inconstancy--went on loving and hoping and trusting, from month to -month, and from year to year, wore out my youth and my freshness and my hope, -and was then flung aside and discarded, the victim of 'better opportunities' and -'improved position.' Oh, Lord! I never intended to open my mouth about this, but -if you ever want to hear the whole story, I'll tell you some day. Meanwhile, -think over these hints, my boy Life's too short and too hard as it is, and--<i>verbum -sap</i>.</p> - -<p>"Most probably you'll never take any further notice of me, after that. If you -have corns, I must have been hard and heavy upon them, and you'll curse my -impertinence; if you haven't, you'll think me the prosiest of old bores. Just -like me. I see plainly that I must have made a mess of it, whichever way it -turns up.</p> - -<p>"You tell me to send you news. Not much about; but what there is, encouraging -and good for the cause. There is very little doubt that at the general election, -which will come off in a few months, we shall be stronger by far than we ever -expected, and shall cut the combs of some of those aristocrats and plutocrats -very close indeed. There is a general feeling that blood and moneybags have -divided the spoil too long, and and that worth and intellect may be allowed a -chance of being brought into play. There are three or four men at the club, whom -you know, and who are tolerably certain of seats, and who, if once they get the -opportunity of making their voices heard in Parliament, will show the world of -what stuff real Englishmen consist. Who do you think is helping us immensely? -Shimmer, he of Bliffkins's! He has got an engagement on the <i>Comet</i>--a new -journal which has just started in our interest, and he is writing admirably. A -good deal of Lemprière's dictionary, and Bohn's quotations, and Solomon's -proverbs, mixed up with a dashing incisive style and sound Saxon English, has -proved immensely telling. People are buying the <i>Comet</i> everywhere, and -Shimmer's salary has been twice raised, and he has been applied to for his -photograph. He does not come much to Bliffkins's now, greatly to old Wickwar's -relief. The old gentleman has expressed his opinion that since Robsperry (he is -supposed to have meant Robespierre) there has been no such sanguinary democrat -as Shimmer. When will you come back to us, Walter? I look at the place where I -used to see you sitting, before I ever spoke to you; I sit and stare at it now -until I feel my eyes---- D--d old fool!</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, boy. Let me hear from you again soon. You know what you promised -if ever you wanted money or anything. J.B.</p> - -<p>"Opened again to say Shimmer has been here inquiring after you. <i>Comet</i> -people want a correspondent at Berlin--special and important. S. thinks you'll -do. Will you go? J.B."</p> - -<p> -The company had long since departed from Westhope; the family had long since -retired to rest; dim lights glimmered here and there in the windows; but Walter -Joyce remained sitting on the side of his bed, with Jack Byrne's open letter in -his hand. When he wrote it the old man little thought what a field of painful -speculation he had laid open for its recipient.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> -<h5>"HE LOVES ME; HE LOVES ME NOT."</h5> -<br> - -<p>The interest which Walter Joyce had awakened in Lady Caroline Mansergh on the -night of the dinner-party by no means died out, or even waned. Flirtation is -certainly not an exceptional amusement in the dead level of dreary occupations -which a country-house life affords, but this word-pastime was certainly not -flirtation. The notion of flirting with her brother's secretary, which would -have been exceedingly comic to the rest of the world, and afforded a vast deal -of amusement to the kindly noodle portion of the Westhope society, did not -strike Lady Caroline at all in a ridiculous light; but to flirt with Walter -Joyce she knew would be impossible. The sighing and looking, the giving and -taking, the fetching and carrying, and all the poodle tricks which are played by -the best style of male flirts, in the best style of society, she knew would be -impossible to him; and though she had had long practice in the art, and had -derived no little amusement from it, she felt it would be repulsive to her to -try her hand on such a subject. If not a desire for flirtation, what was it that -irresistibly impelled her to seek this man's society; that made her start and -thrill at the unexpected sound of his voice; that enabled her to picture to -herself so vividly certain expressions in his eyes, gestures of his hands, to -recall phrases of his conversation? Was it real passion? Had love come to her at -last? Was this the man with whom her fate was to be for ever bound up? Lady -Caroline half smiled as she contemplated this tremendous possibility. It was too -wild, too romantic, this story of the Lord of Burleigh with the sexes reversed, -and with herself for heroine; the man was different from those with whom her -life had been passed, had brains and courage to use them, did not think the -society thoughts nor speak the society language, and was not conformable in any -way to the society pattern. That was what it meant. That was the source of the -strange interest she felt in him--interest which was friendly and appreciative, -but nothing further.</p> - -<p>Nothing further. That was why she had manoeuvred, carefully, skilfully, and -with perfect feminine tact, never ceasing until the object was accomplished, -that it was understood that Mr. Joyce joined the family circle always after -dinner, whether there were visitors or not; that was why she invariably found -opportunities to have him seated by her side, or standing by her turning over -the pages of her music, while Lord Hetherington, with a dexterity only acquired -by long practice, held up the newspaper before him, being at the time sound -asleep, and her ladyship, scorning concealment, slumbered placidly in the garish -light of the moderator lamp.</p> - -<p>Nothing further. That was why Lady Caroline had suddenly taken to pedestrian -exercise, wanted an escort occasionally to the village, and hated the idea of -being followed about in the country by a footman; found she had quite forgotten -that charming Shakespeare, and determined to read his dear plays again, and -would not trouble Mr. Joyce to send those heavy big volumes from the library, -but would come in and read them there occasionally, if he was quite sure she did -not disturb him. The jealous tortures endured by the valiant Othello, which Lady -Caroline selected for her first Shakespearian reading, apparently did not -interest her very much. The great family history of the Wests, derived from -ancient chronicles and documents, upon which Lord Hetherington's secretary was -engaged, made but little progress on the occasions of her ladyship's visits. -There were the longest and the pleasantest talks. In Caroline Mansergh's hands -Joyce was as pliable as potter's clay. In less than a week after the -dinner-party he had told her the history of his life, made her acquainted with -his hopes and fears, his wishes and aspirations. Of course she heard about his -engagement to Marian; equally of course that was the part of the story in which -she felt and shared the greatest interest. Very quickly she knew it all. Under -her skilful questioning, Joyce not merely told her what had actually occurred, -but opened to her the secret chambers of his heart, and displayed to her -penetrating sense feelings with the existence of which he himself was scarcely -acquainted. The odd uncomfortable sensation which first came over him in his -last walk with Marian round the school garden, when she spoke of how it might -have been better if they had never met, and how poorly armed he was for the -great conflict of life, the renewal of the sting with its bitterness increased -fifty-fold at the receipt of her letter dilating on the luxury of Woolgreaves, -and her dread of the poverty which they would have to encounter, the last hint -given to him in the worldly advice contained in Jack Byrne's letter--all these -were submitted to Lady Caroline's keen powers of dissection, without Walter's -being in the least aware how much of his inner life he had made patent to her. A -look, a nod, a word here or there, begat, increased, and developed his assurance -of sympathy; and he could have talked till all eternity on the subject dearest -to his heart.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline let him talk, and only starred the dialogue with occasional -interjections, always of a sympathising character. When she was alone, she would -sit for hours reviewing the conversation just past in the minutest detail, -weighing and reweighing sentences and even words which Joyce had spoken, -sifting, balancing, ascribing to such and such influences, putting aside such -and such theories, bringing all her feminine wits--and in the great points of -feminine cleverness, an odd common sense, and an undefinable blundering on to -the right, she had no superior--to the solution of the question of Walter -Joyce's future so far as Marian Ashurst was concerned. Whatever conclusion she -may have arrived at she kept to herself; no one ever had the slightest -glimmering of it. Her talks with Walter Joyce were as numerous as ever, her -interest in his career no less, her delight in his society by no means impaired; -but the name of Miss Ashurst never passed Lady Caroline's lips, and whenever she -saw the conversation necessarily veering that way, she invariably struck it out -into some new channel. Not that Lady Caroline Mansergh had any jealousy of this -"simple maiden in her flower;" she would not have allowed that for an instant, -would not have allowed, in her most secret communings with herself, that such a -thing could be possible; for she had been properly and rigidly brought up in the -Belgravian code of morals, though a little inclined to kick against them now and -think for herself; and the Belgravian code of morals holds the cultivation of -the <i>bien-séances</i> as the most essential portion of a young lady's -curriculum, and the <i>bien-séances</i> effectively ignored the existence of any -such low sentiment as jealousy in the minds of perfectly constituted members of -the upper classes. Not that Walter Joyce would have noticed the display of any -such passion as jealousy, or, as Lady Caroline thought rather ruefully, could -allow any such feeling to be excited in him. In all her experience--and it had -been large and vast--she had never come across a man so completely---- Well, she -could scarcely find a term for it. It was not apathetic; because he was bright -and intelligent and earnest. Perhaps confiding was the best word to use so far -as his relations with Marian were concerned, though, as Lady Caroline felt, -those relations were a little dashed with recent doubt; and as for his feelings -with regard to herself, skilled mistress as she was in the art of such wordy -warfare, Lady Caroline could never trap him into an ambuscade, or force him into -anything like an acknowledgment of a liking for her. It was not for the want of -trying to evoke it, not for lack of given opportunity on her part, that this -avowal never was made. Fortune favoured her, notably on one occasion; and if -Walter Joyce had ever contemplated anything beyond a feeling of pleasant -friendship for Lady Caroline Mansergh, he would have availed himself of that -occasion for expressing it. Thus it came about. Lady Caroline was sitting half -buried in a big soft easy-chair before the library fire, presumably enjoying <i> -Othello</i>,but really watching her brother's secretary, who was busily -transcribing from a big black-letter volume before him some of the glorious -deeds of her remote ancestry. Raising his eyes after one of his pen-dips, Joyce -met Lady Caroline's glance fixed straight upon him, and said--</p> - -<p>"Thinking of Iago's subtlety, Lady Caroline, or Desdemona's innate weakness? -The former, I should say, judging from your expression."</p> - -<p>"My expression must be very poor, then, Mr. Joyce, or your powers of reading -expression must be extremely limited. I was thinking of something totally -different."</p> - -<p>"May one ask of what?"</p> - -<p>He had had a long day at the chronicles of the West family, and a little -relief was absolutely necessary.</p> - -<p>"Oh dear, yes; my thoughts were certainly not to be marked 'confidential' or -even 'private.' I was thinking about our going back to town."</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed! Is that imminent?"</p> - -<p>"I should say certainly. Parliament meets within a fortnight, and West, I -mean Lord Hetherington, never misses that. Lady Hetherington won't let him go -alone, and once in Beaufort Square, I suppose they'll stop on."</p> - -<p>"I suppose so. This house will seem wonderfully different when you have all -left it."</p> - -<p>"Naturally. Deserted houses must be different to those filled with company, -though their actual appearance is of course only known to the housekeeper who is -left in them, and housekeepers seldom give their impressions to the world."</p> - -<p>"If you are interested in the subject, perhaps you will permit me to give you -a faithful photograph of Westhope in its dismantled state."</p> - -<p>"Evolved from your inner graciousness, like the German's idea of the camel?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, drawn in the minutest detail from personal observation. The -exact position of the pen which Lord Hetherington threw down after signing his -last cheque for Mr. Deacon, the steward, the state of the withering hothouse -flowers left by her ladyship on her table in the drawing-room, the vacant chair -in the library once filled by----"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, that's enough! I won't trouble you to be poetical, Mr. Joyce; that -will be wanted one day at Helmingham, I suppose, and it's never wise to be -extravagant with one's ideas. But you don't mean to say you think you will be -left behind here, at Westhope, when the family returns to town?"</p> - -<p>"Assuredly, Lady Caroline! How else should I be able to make any progress -with my work?"</p> - -<p>"I think you will find," said Lady Caroline, with a smile, "that the history -of our family, wonderfully interesting as it doubtless is, and anxiously -expected by the literary world, as it necessarily must be, will have to remain -in abeyance for a little time. The fact is, that Lord Hetherington has been -recently much struck with the levelling and democratic spirit of the age, and -has determined, so far as he is able, to stem the torrent. He will need a -certain amount of assistance before bringing the matter before the House of -Lords, and for that assistance I know he looks to you!"</p> - -<p>He was a trying man, this Mr. Joyce. There was a scarcely suppressed gleam of -fun in Lady Caroline's usually earnest eyes that ought to have conveyed to any -man acquainted with the circumstances of the position the fact that this new -combination had been suggested by her, and by her alone, and that she perfectly -appreciated not merely its serviceable but its ludicrous side. Walter Joyce -appreciated neither. He should of course be ready to give his services in -whatever way they might be required, he said, adding with clumsy candour that he -had been almost looking forward to the time of the family's departure for the -additional facilities which would be afforded him in getting on with his work.</p> - -<p>This was too much for Lady Caroline. A flush passed across her cheek, as she -said--</p> - -<p>"It has been Lady Hetherington's accidental, and by no means wilful error, -Mr. Joyce, that your time has been already so much intruded on. We have, -unfortunately for us no doubt, been unaccustomed to the ways of recluses, and -have preposterously imagined that a little society might be more agreeable to -them than----"</p> - -<p>But here she stopped, catching sight of the troubled expression on his face, -of his downcast eyes and twitching lips. There was silence for a moment, but he -soon mastered his emotion.</p> - -<p>"I see plainly that I have blundered, as was not unnatural that I should, -through the lack of power of expressing myself clearly. Believe me, Lady -Caroline, that I am infinitely indebted to Lord and Lady Hetherington, and to -you especially. Yes, indeed, for I know where the indebtedness lies--more -especially to you for all the kindness you have shown me, and the notice you -have taken of me. And I--I intended----"</p> - -<p>"Will you prove the truth of your protestations by never saying another word -on the subject? The give-and-take principle has been carried out in our society -as much as the most ardent democrat, say yourself, Mr. Joyce, could have -desired. I am sure you are too good-natured to mourn over the hours torn from -your great work and frittered away in frivolous conversation when you know that -you have helped Lady Hetherington and myself to undergo an appalling amount of -country people, and that while the dead Wests may grieve over the delay in the -publication of their valour and virtue, the living Wests are grateful for -assistance rendered them in their conflict with the bores. However, all that is -nearly at an end. When the family is at Hetherington House, I have no doubt you -will be enabled to enjoy the strictest seclusion. Meantime, there is only one -festivity that I know of which is likely to cause us to ask you to tear yourself -away from your chronicles."</p> - -<p>"And that is?"</p> - -<p>"A skating-party. Consequently dependent on the state of the weather. So that -if you are still hermitically inclined, you had better pray for a thaw. If the -frost holds like this, we are anticipating a very pleasant afternoon to-morrow: -the people from the barracks and some others are coming over, the men report the -ice in capital order, and there's to be luncheon and that kind of thing. But -perhaps, after all, you don't skate, Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, indeed--and you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing in the world I'm so fond of, or, if I may say so, that I do so well. -We wintered one year in Vienna; there was a piece of water privately enclosed -called the Schwann Spiegel, where the Emperor--never mind!"</p> - -<p>The next day was very bright and very pleasant. Whether Walter Joyce had -prayed for a thaw or not, it is certain that the frost of the previous night had -been very mild as compared with its immediate predecessors; the wind had shifted -round to the south-west, the sun had actual warmth, and weatherwise people -assumed to notice a certain dun effect of the atmosphere, and therefrom to -presage snow. The notion of the skating-party about to take place had been -received with immense delight at the barracks at Brocksopp, and at the various -houses to which invitations had been forwarded. To exhibit themselves in -becoming costume a little removed from ordinary every-day dress was in itself a -delight to the younger members of society; while the elders, independently of -their gratification in being brought personally into contact with the -Lord-Lieutenant of the county, knew the capabilities of the Westhope cellar and -kitchen, and recognised the fact that luncheon under such auspices meant -something more than sandwiches and cheap sherry. The gathering was held on a -large sheet of water which was a pond, but which, being situate in the Westhope -domain, profited by the generally aristocratic nature of its surroundings and -was called a lake, lying about half a mile from the house. A large tent had been -pitched on the bank, and as of course it was impossible to have any regular -sit-down luncheon, refreshments were perpetually going on, "snacks" were -indulged in between the performance of wild evolutions given out to be -quadrilles, and gone through to the music of the military band, which, with very -blue cheeks and very stiff fingers, was playing on the bank, and the consumption -of liquids, from champagne in tumblers to curaçoa in wine-glasses, was -tremendous.</p> - -<p>The party from Westhope had driven down in a break, in which a seat had been -offered to Walter Joyce by Lady Hetherington herself, who had condescended to -visit the library for the express purpose. It happened, however, that the -secretary was specially engaged on an important letter, which it was necessary -should be despatched that day, so that he was compelled to ask to be allowed to -find his own way to the lake. When he arrived, there was already a large -gathering, the bank was lined with spectators, and there was a tolerably large -number of skaters. Lord Hetherington, wrapped in an enormous fur coat, with a -hood hanging half-way down his back, was standing looking on with a somewhat -melancholy expression. It had just occurred to him that skating was a pleasant -pastime, that to skate well was a thing of which a man might reasonably be -proud; at the same time he realised the fact that it was a thing impossible to -be done by proxy--he could not get any man to skate for him and give him the -credit of it. Colonel Tapp, cleaner shaved and waxier moustached than ever, -stood by his lordship. The colonel did not skate--not that he could not; in his -youth he had been a proficient in the art, but he was not in his youth now, and -was so strapped, and busked, and laced into his various garments, outer and -inner, that he feared if by mischance he fell it might either be impossible for -him to get up at all, or something might give way and cause him to be raised in -a limp and unpresentable condition. Mr. Biscoe had no such qualms, and was -buckling on his skates with all his characteristic impetuosity--old-fashioned -skates, cumbrous with woodwork, and with curly tops, very different from the -light and elegant trifles in which handsome little Mr. Boyd was performing all -sorts of figures before the countess and a group of ladies gathered together on -the bank, and trying to look as if they were interested and amused.</p> - -<p>"Charmin' scene!" said Lord Hetherington, surveying the lake in a birdlike -fashion, with his head on one side. "Quite charmin'! Whenever I see ice and that -kind of thing, always reminds me of some humorous adventures I once read in a -book 'bout man on the ice; Pickwinkle, or some such name. 'Commonly humorous -book, to be sure!" and his lordship laughed very heartily at his reminiscences.</p> - -<p>"You mean Pickwick, my lord," said the colonel. "Ah! hope what happened to -him won't happen to any of our party, specially our fair friends who are -pirouetting away there so prettily. If you recollect the ice broke and Mr. -Pickwick got a ducking. How's the ice, Boyd?" to the boy who came spinning to -the edge at the moment.</p> - -<p>"First class, colonel; couldn't be in better form; it's as hard as nails and -as slippery as--as old boots," said Mr. Boyd, after hesitating an instant for an -appropriate simile.</p> - -<p>"Ah! but just keep up this end, will you?" said Mr. Biscoe, looking up, his -face purple with the exertion of pulling at a refractory strap. "I was past here -yesterday morning and saw that at the other end the men had broken up the ice -for the deer or the waterfowl, and consequently what's there is only last -night's frost, binding together the floating bits of yesterday, and likely to be -very rotten."</p> - -<p>"Better have a board with 'Dangerous' or somethin' of that sort written on it -and stuck up, hadn't we?" suggested Lord Hetherington, with Serpentine -reminiscences.</p> - -<p>"Scarcely time to get one prepared, my lord," replied Mr. Biscoe, with a -slight smile. "Here, two of you men take a rope and lay it across the ice just -below that alder tree--that'll warn 'em; and you, Boyd, tell 'em all to keep -above that line. No good having any bother if one can prevent it." And Mr. -Biscoe hobbled down the bank and shot away across the lake, returning in an -instant, and showing that if his skates were old-fashioned, he could keep pace -with any of the young ones notwithstanding.</p> - -<p>"Nice exercise--very," said the colonel, who was getting so cold that he was -almost prepared to risk the chance of a tumble, and "have a pair on." "I do like -to see a woman skating; there's something in it that's--ah!" and the old colonel -kissed the tips of his fingers, partly to warm them, partly to express his -admiration. "Now, who is that in the brown velvet trimmed with fur?--she seems -to know all about it."</p> - -<p>"That's my sister Caroline," said his lordship, looking through his double -glass. "Yes, she skates capitally, don't she? Pretty dress, too; looks like -those people in the pictures outside the polkas, don't it? Who's---- Oh, Mr. -Joyce! How d'ye do, Mr. Joyce? My secretary; very decent young man, that."</p> - -<p>The colonel merely coughed behind his buckskin glove. He did not think much -of secretaries, and shared Jack Cade's opinion in regard to the professors of -the arts of reading and writing. Just then Lady Caroline approached the bank.</p> - -<p>"Colonel, are you inclined to back the service in general and your own -regiment in particular? Mr. Patey and I are going to have a race. Of course he -gives me a long start. Will you bet?"</p> - -<p>"Too delighted to have the chance of losing," said the colonel with -old-fashioned gallantry. "And I'll give odds, too--a dozen pairs to -half-a-dozen.--Patey, sustain the credit of the corps in every particular."</p> - -<p>"Depend on me, colonel," said Mr. Patsy, a long-limbed lieutenant of untiring -wind. "Mr. Boyd, take Lady Caroline to her place, and then start us."</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce had heard none of this colloquy. He had joined Mr. Biscoe, with -whom he had formed a great friendship, and was showing him how to shift from the -outer edge of an "eight," and shoot off into a "spread eagle,"--an intricate -movement requiring all your attention,--when he heard a sharp crack, followed by -a loud shout. Without a word they dashed off to the other end of the lake where -the crowd was greatest. Joyce arrived first. What he saw was a large pool of -water where ice had been; floating on it a small round velvet cap trimmed with -fur. He looked hastily round. She was not there--then he knew what had occurred.</p> - -<p>At that instant his arm was seized by Mr. Biscoe, who whispered--</p> - -<p>"Wait, man! They're fetching the rope!"</p> - -<p>"Stand back," he cried, "it'd be too late! Let me go!" and the next instant -he was diving beneath the floating fragments of the ice.</p> - -<p> -"It was as near as a toucher," Mr. Boyd said; and he was right. When they pulled -him in, Joyce's arm, which had been wound round Lady Caroline, had nearly given -way, and the hand with which he had clung to the ice-edge was all bruised and -bleeding. Just as they were lifted on shore he thought he saw her lips move. He -bent his head, and heard one word--"Walter!"--then he fainted.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> -<h5>BECOMING INDISPENSABLE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"Master will be glad to see you, miss, in the library, if you please."</p> - -<p>"Very good, Wilson. Is Mr. Creswell alone?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Radford, the agent from Brocksopp, have been with him for the last -half-hour, miss; but he's on the point to go. I saw him getting on his gloves as -I left the room."</p> - -<p>"Very good; tell Mr. Creswell I will be with him at once."</p> - -<p>The servant retired, closing the door behind her, and Marian was left alone -with her mother. They were in what they had become accustomed to call "their -own" sitting-room, with its bright chintz furniture and tasteful appointments, -as Marian had described them in her letter to Walter. It was tolerably early -morning, just after ten o'clock, and the sun lit up the garden and the -grass-plot, from which the slight frost had not yet disappeared, though the -snowdrops and the crocuses were already showing their heads in the -flower-borders, while the ditch-banks of the neighbourhood were thick with -promised crops of violets and primroses. Mrs. Ashurst, whose infirmities seemed -greatly to have increased within the past six months, was sitting by the fire -with her face turned towards the window, enjoying the brightness of the morning; -but her back was turned to the door, and she had not caught the servant's -message.</p> - -<p>"What was that Martha said, my dear?" she asked. "My hearing's getting worse, -I think. I miss almost everything that's said now."</p> - -<p>"You had your back towards her, dear mother; and you were too pleasantly -occupied looking at the bright weather outside, and thinking that we should soon -be able to get you out for a turn up and down the long walk, in the sun. Martha -came to say that Mr. Creswell wanted to see me in the library."</p> - -<p>"Again, Marian? Why, you were with him for hours--when was it?--the day -before yesterday."</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother; you're quite right. I was there, helping him with his accounts. -But there was some information which had to be supplied before we could finish -them. I suppose he has obtained that now, and we can go on with our work."</p> - -<p>"You're a clever child, my dear," said the old lady, fondly stroking her -daughter's shining hair.</p> - -<p>"There's more use than cleverness in what I'm doing for Mr. Creswell, darling -mother. Don't you remember how I used to make out the boarders' bills for poor -papa, and the 'general running account' to be submitted half-yearly to the -governors? These are larger and more intricate matters, of course, dealing as -they do with the amount and sources of Mr. Creswell's income; but I think I have -mastered the method of dealing with them, and Mr. Creswell, I imagine, thinks so -too."</p> - -<p>"It must be a very large income, my dear, to keep up all this place, and----"</p> - -<p>"Large! You have no conception of it, mother. I had no conception of it, nor -of how it came in, and grew, and is for ever growing, until it was before me in -black and white. Original funds, speculations, mortgages, investments in this -and that, in ships and wharves and breweries, in foreign railroads, and---- Ah! -good heavens, it's enough to turn one's brain to think of."</p> - -<p>And the girl pressed her forehead with her hands, and stood motionless.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my dear," said the old lady, stretching out her hand, and, drawing her -daughter gently towards her. "I've thought more than once that this house with -its surroundings was scarcely the best school for a young girl who had to face -poverty, and battle for her livelihood. And, indeed, I'm far from thinking that, -even so far as I'm concerned, it was wise that we should originally have come -here, or that we should have stayed so long. I wish you would propose about Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings again, Marian, for----"</p> - -<p>"For Heaven's sake, don't mention Mrs. Swainson's horrid lodgings again, -mother. Are you tired of your visit here?"</p> - -<p>"No, my dear, not in the least; I'm very happy, as happy as I ever expect to -be again in this world; but I know there's such a thing as outstaying your -welcome, and----"</p> - -<p>"Who has been putting such ideas into your head? Not those horrible girls! -They have nothing to do with the arrangements of the house, they--there, I -always lose my head when I think or speak of them!"</p> - -<p>"You do indeed, Marian; I cannot imagine how it is that you and Maude and -Gertrude don't get on together. You always seem to blaze up like I don't know -what, especially you and Maude! No, my dear, the young ladies have always hoped -we should stay on, but that of course is impossible, and----"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not impossible, mother!"</p> - -<p>"Why not, my dear? Do you think that---- Oh no, thank you! I guess what you -mean; I'm an old woman, I know, but I've still my faculties left, and I can see -through a millstone as well as most people of my age, and though I'm not apt to -be--I forget the word, but you know what I mean--I declare once for all I won't -do it!"</p> - -<p>"Won't do what, mother? I declare I have no notion what you mean."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, you have, Marian. You heard what Dr. Osborne, whom I never could -abide, but that's neither here nor there, suggested about my becoming Mrs. -Caddy, or rather Mrs. Caddy's successor, when she went. I'm sure you, who talk -of having a spirit and a proper pride, ought to see that I couldn't do that! -Your poor father wouldn't rest in his grave if he knew it! You remember he never -would let me do anything with the boys' clothes, or hair-brushes, or -that--always would have a wardrobe woman; and now to think of my becoming a -housekeeper----"</p> - -<p>"But, mother--there! you shall not worry yourself with that idea any more, -and still we won't think just yet of Mrs. Swainson's nasty lodging! Kiss me now, -and let me go! I've been keeping Mr. Creswell waiting full ten minutes."</p> - -<p>What change had come over Marian Ashurst to cause her to speak in this way to -her mother with flushed cheek, and kindling eye, and elated look? What hope was -dawning over the deep of that black blank sunless future, which she had seen -before her in all its miserable intensity, its unavoidable dead level gloom, -when first she arrived on a visit at Woolgreaves? What was the vision which -during all that period, but especially since Tom Creswell's death, had haunted -her waking and sleeping, in company and in solitude, had been ever present to -her thoughts, and had wrung her heart and disturbed her mental peace more keenly -even than the thought of poverty, the desire for wealth? Dare she do it? She -could, she had but little doubt of that, but little doubt of Mr. Creswell's -daily increasing dependence on her and regard for her. There was no one else in -the world now in whom he seemed to take the slightest interest. He had been -deeply grieved at his son's death, laid up for weeks afterwards--one would have -thought that life for him had lost all its zest and flavour; but lately, in -going through his business details with Marian, he had referred to the dead lad -almost calmly, and had spoken of him almost as he used to speak of him in the -days when his <i>brusquerie</i> and bad style and consequent unpopularity were -gall and wormwood to his father's heart. She was thoroughly and entirely -essential to him. He had told her so. He had said plainly enough that with no -one else, no paid hirelings, no clerk, however trustworthy or confidentially -employed, could he have gone through the private accounts, which showed the -sources of his revenue and its investment, and which had dropped into almost -hopeless confusion and arrear, from which they were only rescued by her quick -apprehension, clear business knowledge, and indefatigable industry. He sat by in -mute wonder, as she seized upon each point as it was laid before her, and -stopped him in the midst of his verbose and clumsy explanation, to show how -clearly she comprehended him, and how lightly she undertook the unravelment of -matters which seemed to him almost hopeless in their chaotic disarrangement.</p> - -<p>What a wonderful girl she was, Mr. Creswell thought, as he looked at her -poring over the items of account as he read them out to her, and marked the -sudden manner in which her cheek flushed and her bosom heaved and her eye -dilated, while that ready pen never ceased in its noiseless course over the -paper. How thoroughly natural to be able to throw herself so entirely into the -work before her, to take evident interest in what would be to others the driest -detail, mere husk and draff of soulless business! He knew nothing of Marian -Ashurst, less than nothing. That dry detail and those soulless figures were to -her more interesting than the finest fiction, the most soul-stirring poetry. For -they meant something much better than fiction; they meant fact--wealth, -position, everything. She remembered, even as she jotted down from Mr. -Creswell's loose memoranda or vague recollections of sums invested here or -securities lying there, or interest payable at such and such dates--she -remembered how, as a child, she had read of Sinbad's visit to the Valley of -Diamonds, and how, in one of the few novels she had come across in later life, -she had been breathlessly interested in the account of the treasure in Monte -Christo's grotto. Those delights were fictional, but the wealth recorded in her -own handwriting before her own eyes was real--real, and, if she mistook not, if -the golden dreams had not warped her intellect and dazzled her brain, enjoyable -by her. Thoroughly enjoyable, not as a miserable dependent permitted to bask in -the rays of prosperity, but as the originator of the prosperity itself, the -mistress of the fortune--the---- No wonder her cheek flushed; she felt her brain -throb and her head whirl; the magnitude of the stakes, the chances of success -appalled her. She had never realised them before, and, while they were beginning -to dawn on her, the desperate effect of her proposed end upon one who had -hitherto been loved by her she had steadfastly contrived to ignore.</p> - -<p>If she dared to do it? Why should she not dare; what was it to dare, after -all? Was she to lose her chance in life, and such a chance, simply because as a -girl she had agreed to a foolish contract, which, as it seemed, it was -impossible could ever be fulfilled? Was her youth to be sacrificed to a -preposterous engagement, which, if it was ratified at all, could only be -ratified in grim middle age, when all power of enjoying life would have fled, -even if the hope of anything to enjoy were then vouchsafed her? She knew too -well that people would be ready enough to bring accusations against her, but of -what could they accuse her? Of selfishness? but it would not be merely for her -own self-advancement that she would take advantage of the opportunity that -offered for bettering her position in life. Her mother was thoroughly dependent -upon her, and the past few months had made a wonderful difference in her -mother's physical condition. With plenty of comfort and attention, with a -command of certain luxuries and the power of remaining perfectly quiescent, -knowing that there was not the smallest occasion for mental disquietude, Mrs. -Ashurst's life might last for some time, but the smallest mental worry would -probably be fatal. This Dr. Osborne had said, and it behoved Marian to think of -her mother before any one else in the world.</p> - -<p>And yet--and yet? Was it all to be forgotten and stamped out, that one -halcyon time of her existence, that one period in which she had ceased to think -of the struggle for living, and to love life for being as it was? Was that one -green oasis where she had rested so pleasantly, forgetful of the annoyances -past, not caring for the dangers to come, as she lay beside the bubbling -fountain of Hope, and drank of its pure waters--was that to be swallowed up in -the world's simoom, and to vanish with every trace obliterated? Or was it but a -mere mirage, unsubstantial and unreal? As she battled with herself she pressed -her eyes tightly with her hands, and endeavoured to recall those scenes of her -life. She would see her lover, modest, earnest, hopeful, delighted at his so-far -success, sanguine as to that which was to come. She would remember the cheery -manner in which he would meet her doubts, the calm self-reliance, never -degenerating into bravado, with which he spoke of their future as perfected by -his efforts. Reminiscences, looks, tones, each had their effect upon her. Then -she would think of that future, even when painted as glowingly as in Walter's -fervent expectation. And what was it? Genteel poverty at its best. The coming -together of two hearts in a cheap lodging, with a necessity for watching the -outlay of every sixpence, and a short career of starved gentility as the coming -result of a long life of labour and waiting. And to give up all she had in -prospect, all she had in command, she might almost say, for this---- Poor -Walter, poor Walter what would he do? All his whole life was bound up in her, in -her his every thought centred. How would he---- Wait, though! She was not so -sure of what she was saying. Who was this Lady Caroline Somebody of whom he -wrote so strongly? Two or three times he had mentioned her in his letters. -Marian recollected having smiled at Walter's first description of this great -lady, who, though he tried to disguise it, had evidently been struck with him; -but now she seized on the idea with quite a different object in view. Suppose -she should carry out what she had in her mind, it would be expedient for her to -show to the world--to such portion of the world as chose to be inquisitive or -indignant about her proceedings--that all shame, so far as breaking off the -original engagement was concerned, did not rest with her, that Walter himself -had not kept faith with---- She broke off the thread of her thought abruptly, -she could not battle with herself, she knew how vain and ridiculous the -accusation would be, how the object of it would shake it from him with scorn; -but it had a certain semblance of truth and likelihood, and it would do to bring -forward, in case any such defence was ever needed.</p> - -<p>"Well, missy," said Mr. Creswell, looking up from the papers on which he was -engaged, "you see I've been compelled to send for my assistant; I couldn't get -on without her."</p> - -<p>"Your assistant is only too glad to come when she finds she can be of use to -you, sir. Has the pass-book come from the bank, and did you get those returns -you asked for from the Wharfdale Company?"</p> - -<p>"What a memory you have, child! I declare I had forgotten what had stopped -our work the other morning. I remembered only that you would have gone on until -you dropped, but for want of material. Yes, they are both here."</p> - -<p>"I see; and the totals both approximate to the sums you mentioned. There will -be no difficulty now in preparing the rough balance-sheet. Shall I begin that at -once?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, missy; that is too large an undertaking for you. I'll have that done -down at the office. I'm only too thankful to you for the assistance you've -rendered me in getting the items into order, and in checking matters which I -could not possibly have submitted to an uninterested person, and which -I'm--well, I'm afraid I must say it--too old to go into myself!"</p> - -<p>"Since you praise me, I have a right to claim a reward, and I demand to be -allowed to carry out my work to the end. I shall be proud of it, proud to think -that, when next these accounts are gone through, you will be able to look at -mine, and see that they do no discredit to your book-keeping pupil."</p> - -<p>There was a slight change in Mr. Creswell's voice as he said--</p> - -<p>"My child, I don't suppose this task will occur again, in my lifetime. It -would have stood over well until my poor boy came of age, had it pleased God to -spare him; but I have only done it now from a renewal of the old stock-taking -habit, a desire to see how my worldly affairs stood before----"</p> - -<p>But the voice broke, and the sentence was left unfinished.</p> - -<p>"But surely, sir, it must be a source of pride, and of pleasure too, to you, -being, as you have often pointed out to me, the architect of your own fortunes, -to have this convincing proof of their stability and your success?"</p> - -<p>"Success! my dear child; pride! pleasure! Ah, missy, a man must have lived -but a small life, if towards the end of it he looks for pride and pleasure in -the amount of his balance at his bankers', or for his success in having heaped -up more money than his fellows!"</p> - -<p>"No; not in that entirely, of course; but in having carried out the main idea -of his life, and----"</p> - -<p>"The main idea of my life that was in existence but a very little while, -missy! The main idea of my life was to make my poor Jenny a good husband, and -afterwards--when the boy was born--to leave him a good and honoured name. Both -those hopes are extinguished now, Marian. The first went years ago, the -last--you know when. And this," pointing with his pen to the bankbook in front -of him--"this has no power to fill their place."</p> - -<p>Both were silent for some minutes; then Marian said, "You have shown me how -silly I was to speak as I spoke just now."</p> - -<p>"My child, you spoke as a child; as one who has never known--who, please God, -never will know--the vanity of such resources as those in time of trouble."</p> - -<p>"I spoke as one who has known sorrow, Mr. Creswell, but who also has known, -and who never can too gratefully acknowledge, the kindness of friends who were -willing and able to help her. I think, I am sure, it will be a source of -satisfaction to you to remember that your position enabled you to soften, very -much to soften, the severity of the blow which so recently fell upon my mother -and myself."</p> - -<p>"There, indeed, you show me some use in what you are pleased to call my -'position.' It is long since I have experienced such gratification as in being -enabled to show some neighbourly civility to the wife and daughter of my old -friend. Even if you had been personally very different from what you are, I -should have been pleased to do it in remembrance of him; but your mother is the -gentlest and the most amiable creature in the world, while as for you----"</p> - -<p>He paused for an instant, and her heart beat high. Only for an instant; she -resumed her normal respiration as he laid his hand softly on her head, and said, -"If I had had a daughter, child, I could have wished her not one whit different -from you."</p> - -<p>She was quite calm again, as she said, "I am so pleased to hear you say that, -sir; for as you know, there are few to give me that affection which you truly -describe as being the only thing worth living for. And I am so glad that I have -been able to be of use to you, and to have shown you, in a very poor way indeed, -how grateful I am to you for all your kindness to us before we leave you."</p> - -<p>"Leave me, Marian? What are you talking of, child?"</p> - -<p>"The fact," she replied, with a sad smile--"the dire hated fact. We must go, -sooner or later; and it is the best for me--for us, I mean--that now it should -be sooner. We have remained here longer than we intended, many weeks longer, -owing to--to circumstances; and we have been, oh, so happy! Now we must go, and -it will be better for us to look the fact in the face, and settle down in Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings, and begin our new life."</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell's face had grown very white, and his hands were plucking -nervously at his chin. Suddenly a light seemed to break in upon him, and he -said, "You won't go until you've finished the balance-sheet? Promise me that."</p> - -<p>"No," said Marian, looking him straight in the face, "I'll finish that--I -promise you."</p> - -<p>"Very good. Now leave me, my dear. This unexpected news has rather upset me. -I must be alone for a little. Good-bye! God bless you!" And he bent, and for the -first time in his life kissed her forehead. "You--you won't forget your -promise?"</p> - -<p>"You may depend on me," said Marian as she left the room.</p> - -<p>Outside the door, in the bay-window where she had held her colloquy with Dr. -Osborne on the night of Tom's death, were Maude and Gertrude, seated on the -ottoman, one at work, the other reading. Neither of them spoke as Marian passed; -but she thought she saw a significant look pass between them, and as she -descended the stairs she heard them whispering, and caught Maude's words: "I -shouldn't wonder if poor Tom was right about her, after all."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE RUBICON.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Of course Walter Joyce was a hero of heroes for days after the ice-accident. -Lady Hetherington for the time being threw off every semblance of insolence and -patronage, complimented him in the highest terms on his bravery and presence of -mind, and assured him that he had established a claim upon their gratitude which -they could never repay. Lord Hetherington was visibly affected, and had great -difficulty in thanking his sister's preserver in anything like a coherent -manner, lapsing into wild outbursts of "Don't you know!" and explaining that it -would be impossible for him to express the feelings and that kind of thing under -which he laboured. The gentlemen from the barracks, who had hitherto regarded -"old Hetherington's secretary-fellow" as a person utterly unworthy of notice, -began to think that they had been mistaken. Young Patey sent a short account of -the incident to the sporting paper of which he was an esteemed correspondent, -and made a mental note to ask Joyce to play in a football-match which was about -to come off, and of which he had the direction. Colonel Tapp not merely assisted -in carrying Joyce's senseless body to the tent, whereby he became much damped -with drippings, which he nobly ignored, but sent off one of the men for the -surgeon of the depôt and evinced an amount of interest and attention very rare -in the self-sustained old warrior. Mr. Biscoe said very little indeed; he had -been the only person close to the ridge of the broken ice, and he might have -heard what Lady Caroline whispered in Joyce's ear, and he might have formed his -own opinion of how matters stood from what he saw of them then. But he said -nothing. His lips wreathed into a peculiar smile two or three times in the -course of the evening, but nothing escaped them; and as he was smoking his -after-dinner cigar in his study, he chuckled in a manner which was not to be -accounted for by the perusal of anything in the <i>Guardian</i>,which he was -supposed to be reading, more especially as he dropped his eyeglass, lay down the -paper, and rubbed his hands with intense enjoyment. Just before he dropped -asleep, he said--</p> - -<p>"It's a thousand pities Joyce is not in orders! He'd have had Chudleigh -Rectory when old Whiting goes, as safe as possible; old Whiting can't live long, -and Chudleigh must be worth twelve hundred a year."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Joyce have Chudleigh? Why should he have had Chudleigh? What makes you -think that, Robert?" asked the partner of his joys, from the neighbouring -pillow.</p> - -<p>"Ah! what indeed?" was all the answer Robert made, and was snoring in an -instant.</p> - -<p>What did Lady Caroline herself say? Very little. She had a slight access of -fever for three days, and kept her room for a week. The first time Joyce saw her -was in the library, where he was at work. She came across the room with -outstretched hand, and in a few very simple words told him she owed her life to -him, and had come to tell him so, and to thank him for it. She was looking -wonderfully beautiful; Joyce thought he had never seen her to such advantage. -The usual pallor of her cheeks was relieved by a deep rose flush, her violet -eyes were more than ever luminous, and she had departed from her usual style of -coiffure, her chestnut hair being taken off her forehead, and gathered up in a -huge plait at the back of her head.</p> - -<p>"You recollect my first mention to you of the intention of having that -dreadful ice-party, Mr. Joyce?" said Lady Caroline, after the first speeches of -acknowledgment.</p> - -<p>"Perfectly; it was in this room, almost where we are sitting now."</p> - -<p>"Don't you remember--I hope you don't, and if you don't, it's silly in me to -remind you, though I can't help it--that I had been quizzing you about the way -in which you remained devoted to your writing, and assured you that we should -only attempt to tear you away from it, and to get you to join us on one other -occasion before we went to town, and that was to this skating affair? It would -have been but a poor look-out for one of the party if you hadn't been there."</p> - -<p>"You're giving me much greater credit than I deserve, Lady Caroline; and -indeed during all the past week I've felt that I've been placed in a false -position in the hero-worship I've received. It certainly happened that I got to -the lake before Mr. Biscoe, and I was in quicker than he, but that was because I -was a little younger, and had longer limbs. But what I've done to be made so -much of, I really don't know!"</p> - -<p>"You've saved my life, Mr. Joyce--and won my eternal gratitude!"</p> - -<p>And again she stretched out her hand.</p> - -<p>"The last is ample reward for the first, Lady Caroline! No other recognition -is necessary!"</p> - -<p>And he took her hand, but he merely held it for an instant, and bowed over it -and let it go. Did not even press it, never thought of attempting to raise it to -his lips. Lady Caroline withdrew it quietly with a half laugh. He was the -coldest, most insensate, impassible man in the world, she thought; clever, and -with a great amount of odd indescribable fascination, but a perfect stone.</p> - -<p>He was not. He was a simple, single-minded man, unaccustomed to the ways of -flirtation, and utterly uncomprehending any of the mysteries of the craft. He -had felt naturally proud of the notice which Lady Caroline had taken of him, had -written of it to Marian, attributing it, as he honestly thought it was due, to -Lady Caroline's superior education and greater love of books attracting her to -him for companionship. He was by no means an observant man, as but few students -are, but he had noticed, as he thought, a certain amount of freedom in manners -generally at Westhope, which was very different from anything he had previously -seen. He ascribed it to the different grade of society, and took but little -notice of it. He must, however, have been more than blind not to have seen that -in Lady Caroline's conduct towards him at the time of the accident there was -something more than this; that in that whispered word, "Walter!" and the tone in -which it was whispered, there was an unmistakable admission of a sentiment which -he had hitherto chosen to ignore, and which he determined to ignore still.</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce was but human, and it would be absurd to deny that his vanity -was flattered. He had a sufficient feeling for Lady Caroline, based on -gratitude, and nurtured by general liking, to experience a certain compunction -for her, placed as she must inevitably find herself by his mode of treatment of -her; but regarding that mode of treatment he had never an instant's doubt. He -had been brought up in far too strict a school of honour ever to palter with -himself for a moment, much less with any one else. His heart was in Marian -Ashurst's keeping, his liege love, and in not one single pulsation should it be -false to her. All this he had thought out before the interview with Lady -Caroline, and his conduct then was exactly as he had prescribed to himself it -should be. He took no credit to himself for his coldness and reserve, nor indeed -did he deserve any, for he felt as calmly and coldly as he acted. There was but -one person in the world with power to make his heart leap, his pulses fill, to -rouse his energy with a look, to cloud his hopes with a word. Why was she -silent, then? She could not know how critical the time might have been, she -should never know it, but he felt that he wanted her advice, advice on the -general questions of his life, and he determined to write to her in a way that -should elicit it.</p> - -<p>Thus he wrote:</p> - -<p>"Westhope, Friday.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAREST MARIAN,</p> - -<p>"I am still without any news of you, although this is the third letter I have -written since I received your last. I know that you must have been very much and -very specially engaged. I know, as you will have gathered from my last hasty few -lines, that poor Tom Creswell is dead, and I feel that you must have been called -upon to your utmost to play the part of comforter, and to bring your keen -sympathies and busy brains into active use to restore something like a semblance -of ordinary comfort to that disordered and desolate household. That you are the -mainstay of the family in their trouble, as of course few would be, I happen to -know. Did I tell you how? Mr. Gould, who is Lord Hetherington's principal -business agent, showed me a letter he had had from you, written in Mr. -Creswell's behalf, about the impossibility of the poor old gentleman's carrying -out some sale of land, about which he had been previously negotiating, under the -existing melancholy circumstances. It seemed so strange to see the handwriting, -so familiar, and so dear to me, addressed to another; treating of business -topics, and yet conveying information, which was surely interesting to me, but -of which I was yet ignorant. However, you had your duty to do to the people who -had been so kind to you, and who had done much more than their duty by you -during the time of your trials, and I, who know you so well, have no doubt that -you have done it, not merely in the letter but in the spirit.</p> - -<p>"I suppose that by this time the first shock of grief will have passed away, -and that the household at Woolgreaves will be assuming something like its normal -state, and I presume, therefore, that you and Mrs. Ashurst will be soon thinking -of bringing your visit to an end, even if by this time you have not already -entered upon the lodgings which you told me you had in view. I have no doubt -that if this be so now, or whenever it comes, both you and Mrs. Ashurst will -much miss the material comfort which you have enjoyed during the last few -months. It is impossible that it should be otherwise, but you, at all events, -have long had a clear idea of your future, and so long as you are with her I do -not fear Mrs. Ashurst's becoming a prey to despair. The woman who battled so -bravely by your dear father's side is not likely to give way now that the heat -of the contest is over, and a retreat, humble indeed, but sufficient for -existence, is provided for her. I should almost rather fear the effect of the -change upon you. I should very much fear it if I laid much stress upon the -opinions with which the last letter I received from you was rife, opinions -breathing the very essence of worldly philosophy, but scarcely such as one would -expect to find in a young girl's letter to her lover. However, I do not lay much -stress on these opinions; I know that it is the fashion just now to affect a -cynicism which is not really felt, and to ascribe to one's self faults and -follies which have no substantial basis. I am sure that you must have become -infected with this idea, and that you wrote under its influence, for nothing -could be more opposite than your new doctrine to the teachings of your youth and -the example of your parents.</p> - -<p>"It is time, however, my dear Marian, that we should each shake ourselves -free from any little affectations or delusions which have hitherto possessed us, -and make up our minds to look our position resolutely in the face. I say both of -us, because I am perfectly conscious of having permitted myself to start in life -as the victim of a delusion of a very different kind from yours. I was as -sanguine as you were depressed, and when, on the day we parted, you had a notion -that there was an end to all happiness to be enjoyed mutually by us, I bad a -feeling that I was taking my first step towards the premiership, or the -governorship of the Bank of England. I pray God that your idea was as baseless -as mine. I <i>know</i> that my position can never be a great or a wealthy one, -that all I ever get I must earn by my handwork, and I am perfectly content, so -long as I have your approval of my steps, and you yourself as my reward.</p> - -<p>"But we must not dream any more, Marian, either of us, and you, especially, -must not suffer yourself again, for whatever reason, to be tempted out of your -regular sphere. All your attention henceforth must be given to the joint -interests which must be paramount in your heart. Life progresses, dear. How the -months have slipped away since we parted! and we must not let youth and health -and all that is best pass out of it, and leave us still pursuing a flying -shadow, and waiting for better days till we shall come together. Not now, or -ever, will I take any step as regards my future without your counsel and -consent, considering as I do that that future is yours as much as mine. But I -want to be assured of your hearty interest and desire for co-operation in my -affairs, Marian. I feel sure I have it; I know it is almost absurd in me to -doubt its existence, but I have been so long away from you, and you have been so -long without writing to me, that I long to read the assurance in your own hand. -What would I not give--if I had anything, poor wretch!--to hear it from your -lips! but that is impossible just yet.</p> - -<p>"Now, what we have to think of is definite and pressing. I must give a -decisive answer within a week, and you will see the bearing and importance of -that decisive answer on our future. I believe I could stay on here for any time -I chose. The big history-book, though I work hard at it every day, is as yet -only in its commencement, and I am told that when the family goes to town next -week I am to accompany them, and to devote my time in London to purely -secretarial work, correcting my lord in his speeches, writing his letters, etc., -while the history of the Wests is to remain in abeyance until the autumn. -Everybody is particularly kind to me, and had I never 'lifted my eyes to my -master's daughter,' like the 'prentice of old, I might have been very happy -here. But I have other hopes in view, and a married private secretary would be -impossible. It's lucky, then, that there is another opening--yes, Marian, a new -chance, which, I think, promises, splendidly promises, to realise all we have -hoped--all I have hoped for, all you can have justly anticipated--speedy union -for us both, under decent competence when united. Listen.</p> - -<p>"My old friend Byrne, of whom you heard so much when I was in London, wrote -to me some time since, telling me that my name had been suggested as the -correspondent then required for a London newspaper in Berlin. I thought but -little of it at the moment, for though, thanks to old Dr. Breitmann, in the dear -old days at Helmingham, I knew myself to be a tolerable German scholar, I -doubted whether I had sufficient 'nous' and experience of the world for the -post. I wrote this to Byrne, and I think he was rather of my opinion; but the -man with whom the recommendation rested, and who knew me from having met me -constantly during those weeks I was living with Byrne, and knew also some of my -qualifications, as it was through him I obtained those odd jobs on the press, -declared that I would be the very man for their purpose, and has so pressed the -matter that I have agreed to let them have their answer with my decision in a -week's time. For that decision I come to you. They offer me a year's engagement -to start with, with the certainty of renewal if I fulfil their expectations, and -four hundred a year, with the prospect of a rise. Four hundred a year, Marian, -and in a country where money goes much further than in England! Four hundred a -year, and we united for ever, and dear Mrs. Ashurst for, of course, she will be -with us--with a son as well as a daughter to tend and care for her! Now you see -why I made the commencement of my letter rather sombre and gloomy, in order to -heighten the brilliancy of the finish. Now you see why I talked about the -lodgings and the privations--because there is no need to submit to any of them.</p> - -<p>"Marian darling, you must answer this instantly! I have no doubt as to the -tone of your reply, but I can do nothing until I get it, and time presses. Don't -be afraid of any ill-feeling on the part of Lord Hetherington or any one here. I -have been able to render them something of a service--I will tell you about it -when we meet--and they will all be delighted at anything which brings good -fortune to me. And now good-bye! Think how little time now before I shall hold -you in my arms! Write at once. God bless you, now and ever.</p> - -<p>"Your WALTER."</p> - -<p> -Sunday morning at Woolgreaves; bright splendid sunshine, the frost all gone, and -Nature, renovated by her six months' sleep, asserting herself in green bud and -lovely almond blossom, and fresh sprouting herbage on every side. Far away on -the horizon lay Brocksopp, the week-day smoke cloud, which no wind dispelled, -yet hovering like a heavy pall over its sabbath stillness; but the intervening -landscape was fresh and fine, and calculated to inspire peaceful thoughts and -hopeful aspirations in all who looked on it. Such thoughts and such aspirations -the contemplation of the scene inspired in old Mrs. Ashurst, who sat propped up -by pillows in a large easy-chair in her sitting-room, gazing out of the window, -looking at nothing, but enjoying everything with the tranquil serenity of old -age. For several years past there had not been much life in the old lady, and -there was very little now; her vital powers, never very strong, had been -decaying slowly but surely, and Dr. Osborne knew that the time was not far -distant when the widow of his old friend would be called away to rejoin the -husband she had so dearly loved in the Silent Land.</p> - -<p>"A case of gradual decay, my dear sir," said the little doctor, who had been -up all night, bringing the heir of a neighbouring squire into the world, and who -had stopped at Woolgreaves on his way home, and asked for breakfast--a meal -which he was then taking in company with his host; "what we call the <i>vis -vitae</i> quietly giving way."</p> - -<p>"And by what I gather from you, doctor, I fear our old friend will not be -much longer with us?"</p> - -<p>"It is impossible to say, but I should think not. Sad thing for the daughter; -she's very much attached to her mother, and will feel the loss very much. -Wonderful girl that, sir!"</p> - -<p>"Miss Ashurst? She is, indeed!" said Mr. Creswell abstractedly.</p> - -<p>"Such a clever head, such individuality, such dominant will! Let her make up -her mind to a thing and you may consider it done! Charming girl, too; simple, -unaffected, affectionate. Dear me! I think I can see her now, in frilled -trousers, bowling a hoop round the schoolhouse garden, and poor Ashurst pointing -her out to me through the window! Poor Ashurst! dear me!"</p> - -<p>Dr. Osborne pulled out a green silk pocket-handkerchief ornamented with -orange spots, buried his face in it, and blew a loud and long note of defiance -to the feelings which were very nearly making themselves manifest. When he -reappeared to public gaze, Maude and Gertrude had entered the room, and the -conversation took a different turn. The young ladies thought it a lovely -morning, so fresh and nice, and they hoped they would have no more of that -horrid winter, which they detested. Yes, they had seen dear Mrs. Ashurst, and -she seemed much the same, if anything a little brighter than last night, but -then she always was brighter in the mornings. Miss Ashurst had gone for a turn -round the garden, her mother had said. And did uncle remember that they must go -to Helmingham Church that morning? Oh! Dr. Osborne didn't know that Hooton -Church was going to be repaired, and that there would not be service there for -three or four Sundays. The snow had come through on to the organ, and when they -went to repair the place they found that the roof was all rotten, and so they -would have to have a new roof. And it was a pity, one of the young ladies -thought, that while they were about it they didn't have a new clergyman instead -of that deaf old Mr. Coulson, who mumbled so you couldn't hear him. And then Dr. -Osborne told them they would be pleased at Helmingham Church, for they had a new -organist, Mr. Hall, and he had organised a new choir, in which Miss Gill's -soprano and Mr. Drake's bass were heard to the greatest effect. Time to start, -was it not? Uncle must not forget the distance they had to walk. Yes, Maude -would drive with Dr. Osborne with pleasure. She liked that dear old pony so -much. She would be ready in an instant.</p> - -<p>Marian went with the rest of the party to church, and sat with them -immediately opposite the head-master's seat, where she had sat for so many -years, and which, was directly in front of the big school pew. What memories -came over her as she looked across the aisle! Her eyes rested on the manly -figure and the M.B. waistcoat of Mr. Benthall, who sat in the place of honour; -but after an instant he seemed to disappear as in a dissolving view, and there -came in his place a bowed and shrunken elderly man, with small white hands -nestling under his ample cuffs, all his clothes seemingly too large for him, big -lustrous eyes, pale complexion, and iron-gray hair. No other change in the whole -church, save in that pew. The lame man who acted as a kind of verger still -stumped up the pulpit-stairs, and arranged the cushion, greatly to the horror of -the preacher of the day, Mr. Trollope, who, being a little man, could hardly be -seen in the deep pulpit, and whose soft little voice could scarcely be heard out -of the mass of wood and cotton velvet in which he was steeped to the ears. The -butcher, who was also churchwarden and a leading member of the congregation, -still applied to himself all the self-accusatory passages in the responses in -the Psalms, and gave them out, looking round at his fellow-parishioners, in a -tone of voice which seemed to say, "See what an infernal scoundrel I am, and how -I delight in letting you know it!" The boys in the school were in the same -places--many of them were the same boys; and the bigger ones, who had been in -love with Marian when she lived among them, nudged each other as she came in, -and then became scarlet from their clean collars to the roots of their freshly -pomatumed hair. Fresh faces nowhere but there. Change in no life but hers. Yes, -as her eye rested on Mr. Creswell's solemn suit of black she remembered that -life had changed also for him. And somehow, she could scarcely tell how, she -felt comforted by the thought.</p> - -<p>They left the church when the service was ended, but it was some time before -they were able to start on their way home. Mr. Creswell came so seldom into -Helmingham, that many of his old acquaintances saw him there for the first time -since his wife's death, and came to offer their long-deferred condolence, and to -chat over matters of local gossip. Marian, too, was always a welcome sight to -the Helmingham people, and the women gathered round her and asked her about her -mother's health, and of their prospects, and when they were going to leave -Woolgreaves; to all of which questions Marian replied with perfect -self-possession and without giving her querists any real information.</p> - -<p>At last they set out homeward. Maude and Gertrude started off at a rapid -rate, and were soon out of sight. Mr. Creswell and Marian walked quietly on -together, talking on various subjects. Mr. Creswell was the principal speaker, -Marian merely answering or commenting on what he said, and, contrary to her -usual custom, never originating a subject. Her companion looked at her curiously -two or three times during their walk; her eyes were downcast, her forehead knit, -and there was a generally troubled expression in her face. At length, when they -had nearly reached their destination, and had turned from the high-road into the -Woolgreaves grounds through a private gate, he said----</p> - -<p>"You are strangely silent to-day, missy. Has anything happened to vex you?"</p> - -<p>"To vex me? Nothing in the world. And it had not even struck me that I was -particularly silent. It seems to me as though we had been talking ever since we -left Helmingham."</p> - -<p>"We? I, you mean. You have been almost monosyllabic in your replies."</p> - -<p>"Have I? That was scarcely polite when you take the trouble to talk to me, my -kind friend. The fact is that I have been in a kind of day-dream, I believe."</p> - -<p>"About the future, Marian?" Mr. Creswell said this so earnestly that the girl -looked up into his face. His eyes fell before hers as she said, steadily----</p> - -<p>"No; about the past. The sight of the school pew, and of another person there -in papa's place, called up all sorts of recollections, which I was revolving -instead of listening to you. Oh no!" she added, after a pause; "I love dreaming -of the past, because, though it has here and there its dim hues and its one -great and ineffaceable shadow of papa's loss, it was, on the whole, a happy -time. But the future----" and she stopped suddenly, and shuddered.</p> - -<p>"You have no pleasant anticipations of the future, Marian?" asked Mr. -Creswell in a lower tone than he had hitherto spoken in.</p> - -<p>"Can you ask me--you who know me and know how we are circumstanced? I declare -I---- There! I'm always apt to forget myself when this subject is broached, and -I speak out without thinking how uncalled for and ridiculous it is. Shall we -walk on?"</p> - -<p>"Not for an instant. I wanted to say a few words to you. I was talking to Dr. -Osborne this morning about Mrs. Ashurst."</p> - -<p>"About mamma?"</p> - -<p>"The doctor said what cannot fail to have struck you, Marian, who are so -devotedly attached to your mother and so constantly in attendance on her--that a -great change has recently come over her, and that she is much more feeble and -more helpless than she used to be. You have noticed this?"</p> - -<p>"I have indeed. Dr. Osborne is perfectly right. Mamma is very much changed."</p> - -<p>"It is obviously necessary that she should not feel the loss of any little -comfort to which she may have been accustomed. It is most essential that her -mind should not be disturbed by any harassing fears as to what might become of -you after she was gone."</p> - -<p>Marian was silent. Her face was deadly pale, and her eyes were downcast.</p> - -<p>"There is only one way of securing our first object," continued Mr. Creswell, -"and that is by your continuing in this house."</p> - -<p>"That is impossible, Mr. Creswell. I have already explained to you the -reason."</p> - -<p>"Not impossible in one way, Marian--a way too that will secure the other -object we have in view--your mother's peace of mind about you. Marian, will you -remain in this house as its mistress--as my wife?"</p> - -<p>It had come at last, the golden chance! She knew that he understood she had -accepted him, and that was all. Mr. Creswell went on rapturously, telling her -how his love had grown as he had watched her beauty, her charming intelligence, -her discretion, and her worth; how he had been afraid she might think he was too -old for her; how she should prove the warmth of his affection and the depth of -his gratitude. All this he said, but she heard none of it. Her brain was running -on her having at last achieved the position and the wealth so long a source of -bitter misery and despair to her. The end was gained; now life would indeed be -something to her.</p> - -<p> -When they reached the house, Mr. Creswell wanted to go with her at once to Mrs. -Ashurst's room; but Marian begged to be alone for a few moments, and parted with -him at the door. As she passed through the hall she saw a letter lying on the -table addressed to her. It was the letter from Walter Joyce.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> -<h5>MARIAN'S REPLY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Marian held the letter in her hand for a moment, irresolute whether to open -it and read it at once, or to defer its perusal until another opportunity, when -her mind might be less perturbed, and the feeling of conscious guilt then -uppermost in her soul might have become quieted and soothed down. She was fully -alive to the knowledge that she had behaved with the blackest treachery to -Walter Joyce, had dealt him the severest stab, the deadliest blow, of which she -was capable, had--for the time at least--completely blackened his future -prospects; and yet, although he had done nothing to deserve this base -treatment--on the contrary, had been for ever loyal and devoted to her under the -most adverse circumstances--her feeling for him was not one of pity, of regret, -or even of contempt, but of downright hatred. She knew that she had been -seriously to blame in neglecting all correspondence with her lover of late, and -she imagined that the letter, which she still held unopened in her hand, was -doubtless one of remonstrance or complaint. He had no right now to address her -after such fashion, or indeed after any fashion whatever. This last thought -struck her for an instant with a touch of tenderness, but she quickly put it -aside as she thrust the letter into the bosom of her dress, and made her way to -her mother's room.</p> - -<p>She found Mrs. Ashurst seated in the bay-window, at the little round table, -on which lay her large-printed Bible, her bottle of smelling-salts, and her -spectacle-case. Mrs. Ashurst had always been a small-framed, delicate-featured -woman, but in these last few months she seemed to have shrunk away almost to -nothing. The light steel frame of her spectacles looked disproportionately heavy -on her thin nose, and her sunk pallid face, with the complexion of that dead -white colour so often seen in old women, was almost lost in the plaits and -frills of her neat cap. Though the day was fine and bright outside, the old lady -evidently felt the cold; she wore a thick twilled woollen shawl thrown over her -shoulders, and her cosy armchair was in the full view of the fire. She looked up -as Marian entered, and, when she recognised the visitor, gave a little smile of -welcome, took off her spectacles, closed her book, and put up her face for her -daughter's kiss.</p> - -<p>"What a long time you have been away, dear!" she said, in the softest little -voice. "I thought you were never coming back! I was wondering what had become of -you!"</p> - -<p>"Did you think Dr. Osborne had run off with me in the four-wheeler, mother?" -said Marian, smiling. "The knight and his means of flight are about equally -romantic! We're later than usual, dear, because Hooton Church is closed for -repairs, and we've been to Helmingham!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know that; but Maude and Gertrude went to Helmingham too, didn't -they? And I'm sure I've heard their voices about the house this half-hour!"</p> - -<p>"There were all sorts of Helmingham people to speak to in the churchyard -after service--Mrs. Simmons, who is growing quite gray; and old Mrs. Peak, whose -feet are very bad again, so bad that she can hardly get about now, poor soul; -and young Freeman and young Ball, who have taken Mr. Smyth's corn-chandlery -business at Brocksopp, and go over there next week; and Sam Baker, who is very -much grown, and of whom Mr. Benthall speaks very highly. They all asked very -kindly after you, mother!"</p> - -<p>"I'm very much obliged to them, my dear. I shan't trouble them long, and----"</p> - -<p>"Now, don't you remember your promise never to talk in that way again?"</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear, I won't if you don't like it. As for myself--however, no -matter! And did you walk back with Mr. Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother. Maude and Gertrude hurried on, and Mr. Creswell and I came -leisurely after."</p> - -<p>"You'll become quite old-fashioned if you're so much with Mr. Creswell, -Marian. Though why I say 'become,' I'm sure I don't know. You've always been -old-fashioned from a child up."</p> - -<p>"And am likely to remain so, dear, to all appearances!" said Marian, with a -soft smile, bending down and kissing her mother's forehead. "Have you taken your -medicine? No! then let me give it to you!" She went to a small cabinet, and -brought out a tumbler and a spoon.</p> - -<p>"I'm very glad you thought of the medicine, Marian," said the old lady; "not -that it does me the least good, let Dr. Osborne say what he may, but because -your fetching those things from that place reminded me of something I wanted to -say to you. I've been all this morning--ever since I finished reading the -lessons--I've been going through the furniture in that parlour of Mrs. -Swainson's in my mind, and I'm perfectly certain there's nothing, not even a -common cupboard, to lock up anything!"</p> - -<p>"Isn't there, mother?" said Marian wearily.</p> - -<p>"Isn't there? No, indeed there is nothing, dear! Though you don't seem to -think much about it, it's a very serious thing. Of course, one would keep the -tea and sugar in the caddy, but there are many little odds and ends that ought -to be locked up, and---- Are you listening to me, Marian?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother," she said, but her looks belied her words. She was leaning -against the mantelpiece, her head resting on her hand, and her thoughts were -evidently far away.</p> - -<p>"I wonder you had not noticed that, Marian, when we went over the lodgings," -pursued Mrs. Ashurst. "You're generally such a one to notice these kind of -things, and I've been used to depend upon you, so that I think nothing about -them. What shall we do about that? I suppose Mrs. Swainson would not be inclined -to buy a cabinet--a second-hand one would do perfectly----"</p> - -<p>"I don't think we need go into the question. We shall never go to Mrs. -Swainson's lodgings!"</p> - -<p>"No? What shall we do, then?"</p> - -<p>"Remain here!"</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear," said the old lady, "if you change your plans so often, how -am I possibly to know where we're going, or what we're going to do? Not that I -want to be consulted, but I really might as well be a chair or a table for the -manner in which I am treated. I thought you said, not more than a fortnight ago, -that it was impossible we could stop here any longer!"</p> - -<p>"So I did, mother; but circumstances have changed since then. This morning, -as we walked from church, Mr. Creswell asked me to become his wife."</p> - -<p>"His wife! Mr. Creswell! you to--and you accepted him?"</p> - -<p>"I did!"</p> - -<p>The old lady fell back in her chair, her eyes closed, her hands fluttering -nervously before her. Marian ran to her mother and knelt by her side, but Mrs. -Ashurst revived almost immediately--revived sufficiently to place her hand round -her daughter's neck and to whisper in her ear, "For my sake?"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand you, dearest mother."</p> - -<p>"For my sake? You've done this for my sake that I may be comfortable and -happy for the rest of my life, that I may have these things, luxuries"--pointing -with her hand round the room. "You've sacrificed yourself! It must not be; -listen, Marian--it must not be!"</p> - -<p>"Darling mother, you're all wrong, indeed you are--you're quite mistaken."</p> - -<p>"Marian, it must not be! I'm a weakly woman, I know, but what answer should I -make to your dear father when I meet him again--soon now, very soon, please -God!--if I permitted this thing! What would he say if he learned that I was -selfish enough to permit you to sacrifice yourself, you whom he so worshipped, -to become the wife of an old man, in order that I might profit by it? What would -he think of Mr. Creswell, who pretended to be his friend, and who would----"</p> - -<p>"Mother, dearest mother, you must not speak against Mr. Creswell, please! -Recollect he is to be my husband!"</p> - -<p>"Very well, my dear," said the old lady quietly; "I'll ask you one question, -and after that you'll never hear me open my lips on the matter. Do you love Mr. -Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother."</p> - -<p>"Better than any other man living?"</p> - -<p>"Ye-yes, mother." She hesitated for an instant, but the answer came round and -firm at last.</p> - -<p>"You swear that to me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother."</p> - -<p>"That's enough, my dear! I shall be ready to face your father now." Mrs. -Ashurst then removed her arm from her daughter's neck and lay back in her chair. -After a minute or two she told Marian she had heard the luncheon-gong sound, and -that she would prefer being left alone for a little. When Marian came up to kiss -her before leaving the room, the little old lady's white face became suffused -with a glow of colour, and the voice in which she prayed God to bless her child, -and keep her happy throughout her life, was broken with emotion, and weaker and -fainter than ever.</p> - -<p>When she was alone Mrs. Ashurst pondered long and earnestly over what she had -just heard. Of course, the question of Marian's future--and to her parents as -well as herself the future of every girl means her marriage--had been often -thought of by her mother. She and her dead husband had talked of it in the -summer evenings after supper and before retiring to rest, the only time which -the school-work left for James Ashurst to devote to himself, and even then he -was generally rather fatigued with past, or preoccupied with growing work. It -was very general, the talk between them, and principally carried on by Mrs. -Ashurst; she had wondered when Marian would marry, and whom; she had gone -through the list of eligible young men in the neighbourhood, and had speculated -on their incomes and their chances of being thrown with Marian in such little -company as they kept. She had wondered how they at home would be able to get on -without her; whether she herself would be able to undertake the domestic -superintendence, as she had done in the old days before Marian was of an age to -be useful; whether Marian would not settle somewhere near, where she might still -take an interest in her old work, and many other odd and profitless -speculations, to which the dominie would give an affirmative or negative grunt -or comment, wondering all the while how he was to meet that acceptance which he -had given to Barlow, and which became due on the twenty-seventh, or whether his -old college chum Smith, now a flourishing physician in Cheltenham, would lend -him the fifty pounds for which he had made so earnest an appeal. But all this -seemed years ago to Mrs. Ashurst as she thought of it. For many months before -her husband's death the subject had not been mooted between them; the cold calm -external impassibility, and the firm determination of Marian's character, seemed -to her mother to mark her for one of those women destined by nature to be -single, and therefore somewhat fitted for the condition. A weak woman herself, -and with scarcely any perception of character, believing that nearly all women -were made in the same mould and after the same type, Mrs. Ashurst could not -understand the existence of the volcano under the placid surface. Only gushing, -giggling, blushing girls fulfilled her idea of loving women, or women lovable by -men. Marian was so "odd" and "strange," so determined, so strong-minded, that -she never seemed to think of love-making, nor indeed, her mother thought, had -she been ever so much that way disposed, would she have had any time for it.</p> - -<p>And now Marian was going to be married! Years rolled away, and the old lady -saw herself in the same condition, but how differently circumstanced! Her James -was young and strong and handsome. How splendid he looked in his flannel -boating-dress, when he came to spend a hurried holiday at her father's -river-side cottage! How all the people in the church admired him on their -wedding-day It was impossible that Marian could love this man, who was quite old -enough to be her father,--love him, that is, in the proper way, in the way that -a husband should be loved. She could look up to him, and respect and reverence -him, and so on; but that was not the way in which she had loved her James. She -had not the least respect for him, but used to laugh at him for his awkwardness, -and great strong clumsy ways, never knowing what to do with his long legs and -his great feet, and used to call him "a great goose;" she recollected that, and -the recollection brought the colour to her face, and made her smile in spite of -herself. Marian could never call Mr. Creswell "a great goose," could never think -of him so familiarly, no matter how long they might be married. What could have -brought it about? She had very good eyes, she thought, and yet she had never -suspected Mr. Creswell of any partiality for Marian; any, at least, beyond that -which a man in his position and of his age might be expected to feel for a -bright intelligent girl with whom he was thrown into frequent contact. And as -for Marian, it was the last thing she should have expected of her. If she were -to think of marriage, which Mrs. Ashurst never contemplated, she would not have -suffered herself to be thrown away on a man so much older than herself; she -would have looked for some one whom she could love. No; it was what had first -struck her, and the more she thought about it the more convinced she grew. -Marian had sacrificed herself on the shrine of filial duty; she had accepted the -position of Mr. Creswell's wife in order that her mother might be able to -continue in the house where all possible comforts and luxuries were at her -command. It was a good motive, a noble affectionate resolve, but it would never -turn out well, she was sure of that. There had been a baronet once under James's -tuition--what was his name? Attride, Sir Joseph Attride, a young man of rather -weak intellect--who had been sent by his friends to be what James called -"coached for something," and who had a very large fortune; why did not Marian -take him, or Mr. Lawrence, the miller and churchwarden, who was very rich, and -took so much snuff? Either of them would have been much more suited to her than -Mr. Creswell. And so the old lady sat--chewing the cud of sweet and bitter -fancy, but always coming back to her proposition that Marian had sacrificed -herself for her mother's sake--throughout the afternoon.</p> - -<p>When Marian left her mother she did not take the hint about the -luncheon-gong--the pretence under which Mrs. Ashurst had asked to be left to -herself. She knew that if her absence from the table were remarked, it would be -attributed to the fact of her being engaged in attendance on her mother. She -knew further that Mr. Creswell would not expect to see her just then, and she -calculated on having two or three hours to herself free from all interruption. -So she went straight to her own room, turned the key in the lock, sat herself -down in a low chair opposite the fire--fires are kept constantly alive in that -north-midland county, where coals are cheap, and the clay soil cold and -damp--took Walter Joyce's letter from the bosom of her dress, opened, and began -to read it. It was a task-work which she had to go through, and she nerved -herself as for a task-work. Her face was cold and composed, her lower jaw set -and rigid. As she read on the rigidity of her muscles seemed to increase. She -uttered no sound, but read carefully every word. A slight expression of scorn -crossed her face for a moment at Walter's insisting on the necessity of their -good faith towards each other, but the next instant it vanished, and the set -rigidity returned--returned but to be equally fleeting, to be swept away in a -storm of weeping, in a hurricane of tears, in a wild outburst of genuine womanly -feeling, showing itself in heaving bosom, in tear-blistered face, in passionate -rocking to and fro, in frenzied claspings of the hands and tossing of the head, -and in low moaning cries of, "Oh, my love! my love!"</p> - -<p>It was the perusal of the end of Joyce's letter that had brought Marian -Ashurst into this state; it was the realisation of the joy which, in his utter -devotion to her, must have filled his heart as he was enabled to offer to share -what he imagined great prosperity with her, that wrung her conscience and showed -her treatment of him in its worst light. It was of her alone that he thought -when this offer was made to him. He spoke of it simply as a means to an -end--that end their marriage and the comfort of her mother, whose burden he also -proposed to undertake. He said nothing of what hard work, what hitherto -unaccustomed responsibility, it would entail upon him; he thought but of the -peace of mind, the freedom from worry, the happiness which he imagined it would -bring to her. How noble he was how selfless and single-minded! This was a man to -live and die for and with indeed! Was it too late? Should she go bravely and -tell Mr. Creswell all? He was sensible and kind-hearted, would see the position, -and appreciate her motives, though the blow would be a heavy one for him. He -would let her retract her consent, he would---- Impossible! It might have been -possible if she had read the letter before she had told her mother of Mr. -Creswell's proposal, but now impossible. Even to her mother she could not lay -bare the secrets of her heart, disclose the slavery in which she was held by -that one ruling passion under whose control she had broken her own plighted -word, and run the risk of breaking one of the truest and noblest hearts that -ever beat.</p> - -<p>No; she could not do that. She was growing calmer now; her tears had ceased -to flow, and she was walking about the room, thinking the matter out. No; even -suppose--well, this proposal had not been made: it would have been impossible to -move Mrs. Ashurst in her then state to Berlin, and she could not have gone -without her; so that Walter must either have gone alone, or the marriage must -have been deferred. And then the income--four hundred a year. It was very good, -no doubt, in comparison to what they had been existing on since papa's -death--very superior to anything they could have expected, quite a sufficiency -for one or two young people to begin life upon; but for three, and the third one -an invalid, in a foreign country? No; it was quite impossible. Marian looked -round the room as she said these words; her eyes lighted on the bright -furniture, the pretty prints that adorned the walls, the elegant ornaments and -nick-nacks scattered about, the hundred evidences of wealth and taste which were -henceforth to be at her entire command, and repeated, "Quite impossible!" more -decisively than before. By this time she was quite herself again, had removed -every trace of her recent discomposure, and had made up her mind definitively as -to her future. Only one thing troubled her,--what should be her immediate -treatment of Walter Joyce? Should she ignore the receipt of his letter, leave it -unanswered, take the chance of his understanding from her silence that all was -over between them? Or should she write to him, telling him exactly what had -happened--putting it, of course, in the least objectionable way for herself? Or -should she temporise, giving her mother's delicate state of health and -impossibility of removal abroad as the ground of her declining to be married at -once, as he required, and beginning by various hints, which she thought she -could manage cleverly enough, to pave the way for the announcement, to be -delayed as long as practicable, that their engagement was over, and that she was -going to marry some one else? At first she was strongly inclined to act upon the -last of these three motives, thinking that it would be easier to screen herself, -or at all events to bear the brunt of Joyce's anger when he was abroad. But -after a little consideration, a better spirit came over her. She had to do what -was a bad thing at best; she would do it in the least offensive manner -possible,--she would write to him.</p> - -<p>She sat down at the little ink-bespattered, old-fashioned writing-desk which -she had had for so many years, on which she had written so often to her lover, -and which contained a little packet of his letters, breathing of hope and trust -and deep-rooted affection in every line, and wrote--</p> - -<p>"Woolgreaves, Sunday.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAR WALTER,</p> - -<p>"I have something to tell you which you must know at once. I can approach the -subject in no roundabout fashion, because I know it will cause you a great -shock, and it is better for you to know it at once. I do not pretend to any -doubt about the pain and grief which I am sure it will cause you. I will tell -you my reasons for the step I am about to take when I tell you what I have -already done. Walter, I have broken my engagement with you. I have promised to -marry Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>"I write this to you at once, almost directly after he proposed to me, and I -have accepted him. Does it seem harsh and coarse in me to announce this to you -so immediately? Believe me, the announcement is made from far different motives. -I could not bear to be deceiving you. You will sneer at this, and say I have -been deceiving you all along. I swear I have not. You will think that the very -silence for which you reproached me in the letter just received has been owing -to my dislike to tell you of the change in affairs. I swear it has not. I had no -idea until this morning that Mr. Creswell liked me in any especial way; -certainly none that he would ever ask me to become his wife.</p> - -<p>"When he asked me, I had not had your letter. If I had, it would have made no -difference in the answer I made to Mr. Creswell, but it deepens the pain with -which I now write to you, showing me as it does, to an extent which I did not -before quite realise, the store which you set by what is now lost to us for -ever. I do not say this in excuse of myself or my deeds; I have no excuse to -make. I have tried, and tried hard, to live in the position of life in which I -have been placed. I have struggled with poverty, and tried to face the -future--which would have been worse than poverty, penury, misery, want -perhaps--with calmness. I have failed. I cannot help it, it is my nature to love -money and all that money brings, to love comforts and luxuries, to shrink from -privation. Had I gone straight from my father's deathbed to your house as your -wife, I might perhaps have battled on; but we came here, and--I cannot go back. -You will be far happier without me when your first shock is over. I should have -been an impossible wife for a poor man, I know I should--complaining, peevish, -irritable; ever repining at my poverty, ever envying the wealth of others. You -are better without me, Walter, you are indeed! Our ways of life will be very -different, and we shall never come across each other in any probability. If we -should, I hope we shall meet as friends. I am sure it will not be very long -before you recognise the wisdom of the course I am now taking, and are grateful -to me for having taken it. You are full of talent, which you will now doubtless -turn to good account, and of worthy aspirations, which you will find some one to -sympathise with, and share the upward career which I am sure is before you. I -thought I could have done as much at one time, but I know now that I could not, -and I should be only acting basely and wickedly towards you, though you will not -think it more basely and wickedly than I am now acting with you, if I had gone -on pretending that I could, and had burdened you for life with a soured and -discontented woman. I have no more to say.</p> - -<p>"MARIAN."</p> - -<p> -"You do not repent of what you said to me this morning, Marian?" said Mr. -Creswell in a whisper, as he took her in to dinner.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary," she replied in the same tone, "I am too happy to have been -able to gratify you by saying it."</p> - -<p>"What has happened with Miss A.?" whispered Gertrude to Maude, at the same -time; "I don't like the look in her eyes."</p> - -<p>And certainly they did look triumphant, almost insolently so, when their -glance fell on the girls.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> -<h5>DURING THE INTERVAL.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Saturday morning, the day after that on which Joyce had sent off the eventful -letter to Marian. Twelve o'clock, and no appearance as yet of Lady Caroline -Mansergh, who had sent word that she had a slight headache, and would take her -breakfast in her room. Lady Hetherington hated people having breakfast in their -rooms: it did not, of course, inconvenience her in the least; she herself was -never particularly lively in the morning, and spoke very little, and disliked -being spoken to, so that it was not the loss of companionship that she -regretted; it was merely what people called a "fad" of hers, that the household -generally should assemble at the breakfast-table, and she was annoyed when -anything occurred to prevent it.</p> - -<p>Her ladyship was generally out of temper that morning, several things having -conspired to disturb her equanimity. They were about to move the establishment -to London, which was always a sore trial for her at the best of times; but now -that they were going up before Easter, it was specially hard to bear. She had -told Lord Hetherington, as she pathetically narrated both orally and by letter -to all her friends, that it was useless their going to Hetherington House at -that time of the year, when they would find no one in town but members' wives -who had come up for the session, and the wretched people who live there all -their lives; there wouldn't be a soul they knew, and the draughts at -Hetherington House were perfectly awful; and yet Lord Hetherington would go. She -could not imagine what had come to him. The last morning's post had brought her -a letter from her milliner, asking for money; and even the greatest ladies -sometimes not merely dislike being asked for money, but have difficulty in -finding it; and the countess's stock of ready cash happened to be very low at -that moment. And the new housekeeper who had come from Lady Rundell Glasse's, -and who was so highly recommended, had turned out a complete failure, and must -be got rid of before they go to town; and old Mrs. Mason, the town housekeeper, -must be telegraphed to to look out for some one else; and altogether her -ladyship was thoroughly upset, and, wanting some one to vent her ill-humour on, -and having lost her judgment as well as her temper, thought she would find that -some one in Lady Caroline. So, when twelve o'clock arrived, and her -sister-in-law had not put in an appearance, the countess went to her room, -entered upon her knock, and found Lady Caroline buried in a huge chair in front -of the fire reading a book, while her maid was combing her hair. There was -scarcely anything which Lady Caroline liked better than having her hair -combed--not dressed, that she hated--but quietly combed and brushed alternately. -She almost purred under the sensation, like a cat whose fur is smoothed the -right way; it was pleasant, it was refreshing, it soothed her, and put her on -good terms with the world; so that when she looked up and saw Lady Hetherington, -to whom she was not very partial, she received her with a smile, and expressed -her delight at the visit.</p> - -<p>"It is really immensely good of you to come and see me, Margaret, especially -when I know you're not fond of taking trouble in a general way," she said, -putting her book on to her lap and looking up languidly.</p> - -<p>"They told me you were ill, or I don't know that I should have come," -retorted Lady Hetherington with some asperity.</p> - -<p>"Ah, that was quite right of them; I told them to say that.--You can go, -Phillips"--to the maid--"I'll ring when I want you.--I don't suppose there's any -harm in sending mendacious messages by the servants; do you? It would be far -more demoralising to them if one were to tell the truth and say one was lazy, -and that kind of thing, because it would provoke their contempt instead of their -pity, and fill them with horrible revolutionary ideas that there was no reason -why they shouldn't be lazy as well as we, and all sorts of dreadful things."</p> - -<p>"If I had thought it was mere laziness that kept you to your room this -morning, Caroline, I think my dislike 'of taking trouble in a general way' would -have influenced me in this particular instance, and saved you the bore of my -interrupting you."</p> - -<p>"That's where you're so ungenerous, Margaret. Not the smallest bore in the -world; the stupidity of this book, and Phillips's action with the hair-brush -combined, were sending me off to sleep, and you interfered at an opportune -moment to rescue me. How is West this morning?"</p> - -<p>"Very much as he was last night. Intent on distinguishing himself on -this--what do you call it?--irrigation scheme."</p> - -<p>"Oh dear, still harping on those channels and pipes, and all the rest of it! -Poor Mr. Joyce! there is plenty of work in store for him, poor fellow."</p> - -<p>"Dreadful, will it not be, for that charming young man to be compelled to -work to earn his wages?" said Lady Hetherington with a sneer.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline looked up, half astonished, half defiant. "Salary, not wages, -Margaret," she said, after a moment's pause.</p> - -<p>"Salary, then," said her ladyship shortly; "it's all the same thing."</p> - -<p>"No, dear, it isn't. Salary isn't wages; just as the pin-money which West -allows you isn't hire. You see the difference, dear?"</p> - -<p>"I see that you're making a perfect fool of yourself with regard to this -man!" exclaimed Lady Hetherington, thoroughly roused.</p> - -<p>"What man?" asked Lady Caroline in all apparent simplicity.</p> - -<p>"What man? Why, this Mr. Joyce! And I think, Caroline, that if you choose to -forget your own position, you ought to think of us, and have some little regard -for decency; at all events, so long as you're staying in our house!"</p> - -<p>"All right, dear," said Lady Caroline with perfect coolness. "I'm sorry that -my conduct gives you offence, but the remedy is easy. I'll tell West how you -feel about it at luncheon, and I'll leave your house before dinner!"</p> - -<p>A home-thrust, as Lady Caroline well knew. The only time that Lord -Hetherington during his life had managed to pluck up a spirit was on the -occasion of some real or fancied slight offered by his wife to his sister. -Tail-lashings and roarings, and a display of fangs are expected from the tiger, -if, as the poet finely puts it, "it is his nature to." But when the mild and -inoffensive sheep paws the ground, and makes ready for an onslaught with his -head, it is the more terrible because it is so unexpected. Lord Hetherington's -assertion of his dignity and his rights on the one occasion in question was so -tremendous that her ladyship never forgot it, and she was extremely unwilling to -go through such another scene. So her manner was considerably modified, and her -voice considerably lowered in tone as she said----</p> - -<p>"No, but really, Caroline, you provoke me into saying things which you know I -don't mean. You are so thoughtless and headstrong----"</p> - -<p>"I never was cooler or calmer in my life! You complain of my conduct in your -house. It would be utterly beneath me to defend that conduct, it requires no -defence, so I take the only alternative left, and quit your house."</p> - -<p>"No; but, Caroline, can't you see----"</p> - -<p>"I can see this, Lady Hetherington, and I shall mention it once for all. You -have never treated that gentleman, Mr. Joyce, as he ought to be treated. He is a -gentleman, in mind and thought and education, and he comes here and does for -poor dear stupid West what West is totally unable to do himself, and yet is most -anxious to have the credit of. The position which Mr. Joyce holds is a most -delicate one, one which he fills most delicately, but one which any man with a -less acute sense of honour and right might use to his own advantage, and to -bring ridicule on his employer. Don't fancy I'm hard on dear old West in saying -this; if he's your husband he's my brother, and you can't be more jealous of his -name than I am. But it's best to be plainspoken about the matter now, it may -save some serious difficulties hereafter. And how do you treat this gentleman? -Until I spoke to you some months since you ignored his presence; although he was -domesticated in your house you scarcely knew his personal appearance. Since then -you bow, and give him an occasional word, but you're not half so polite to him -as you are to the quadrille-bandsman when he is in much request, or to the Bond -Street librarian when stalls for some particular performance are scarce. I am -different; I am sick to death of 'us' and our 'set,' and our insipid <i>fade</i> -ways, and our frightful conventionality and awful dulness! Our men are even more -odious than our women, and that's saying a good deal; their conversation varies -between insolence and inanity, and as they dare not talk the first to me, -they're compelled to fall back on the second. When I meet this gentleman, I find -him perfectly well-bred, perfectly at his ease, with a modest assurance which is -totally different from the billiard-table swagger of the men of the day; -perfectly respectful, full of talk on interesting topics, never for an instant -pressing himself unduly forward, or forgetting that he is what he is--a -gentleman! I find a charm in his society; I acknowledge it; I have never sought -to disguise it. The fact that he saved my life at the hazard of his own does not -tend to depreciate him in my eyes. And then, because I like him and have the -honesty to say so, I am bid to 'think of' my relations, and 'have regard for -decency!' A little too much, upon my word!"</p> - -<p>People used to admire Lady Caroline's flashing eyes, but her sister-in-law -had never seen them flash so brilliantly before, nor had her voice, even when -singing its best, ever rung so keenly clear. For once in her life, Lady -Hetherington was completely put down and extinguished; she muttered something -about "not having meant anything," as she made her way to the door, and -immediately afterwards she disappeared.</p> - -<p>"That woman is quite too rude!" said Lady Caroline to herself, ringing the -bell as soon as the door closed behind her sister-in-law. "If she thinks to try -her tempers on me, she will find herself horribly mistaken. One sufferer is -quite enough in a family, and poor West must have the entire monopoly of my -lady's airs!--Now, Phillips, please to go on brushing my hair!"</p> - -<p>Meantime, the cause of all this commotion and outbreak between these two -ladies, Walter Joyce, utterly unconscious of the excitement he was creating, was -pursuing the even tenor of his way as calmly as the novel circumstances of his -position would admit. Of course, with the chance of an entire change in his life -hanging over him--a change involving marriage, residence in a foreign country, -and an occupation which was almost entirely strange to him--it was not possible -for him to apply his mind unreservedly to the work before him. Marian's face -would keep floating before him instead of the lovely countenance of Eleanor de -Sackville, erst maid of honour to Queen Elizabeth, who had this in common with -Marmion's friend, Lady Heron, that fame "whispered light tales" of her. Instead -of Westhope, as it was in the old days, with its fosse, drawbridge, portcullis, -ramparts, and all the mediaevalisms which it is in duty bound to have, Walter's -fancy was endeavouring to realise to itself the modern city of Berlin, on the -river Spree, while his brain was busied in conjecturing the nature of his -forthcoming duties, and in wondering whether he possessed the requisite ability -for executing them. Yes! he could get through them, and not merely that, but do -them well, do anything well with Marian by his side. Brightened in every -possible way by the prospect before him, better even in health and certainly in -spirits, he looked back with wonder on his past few months' career; he could not -understand how he had been so calm, so unexpectant, so unimpassioned. He could -not understand how the only real hopes and fears of his life, those with which -Marian was connected, had fallen into a kind of quiescent state, which he had -borne with and accepted. He could not understand that now, when the hopes had -been aroused and sent springing within him, and the fears had been banished, at -least for a while. For a while?--for ever! The mere existence of any fear was an -injustice to Marian. She had been true and steadfast, and good and loving. She -had proved it nobly enough. The one weakness which formed part of her character, -an inability to contend with poverty--a venial failing enough, Walter Joyce -thought, especially in a girl who must have known, more particularly in one -notable instance, the sad results of the want of means--would never now be -tried. There would be no need for her to struggle, no necessity for pinching and -screwing. Accustomed since his childhood to live on the poorest pittance, Joyce -looked at the salary now offered to him as real wealth, position-giving, and -commanding all comforts, if not luxuries. The thought of this, and the knowledge -that she would be able to take her mother with her to share her new home, would -give Marian the greatest pleasure. He pictured her in that new home, bright, -sunny, and cheerful; the look of care and anxiety, the two deep brow-lines which -her face had worn during the last year of their residence at Helmingham quite -obliterated; the old, cheerful, ringing tone restored to her voice, and the -earnest, steadfast, loving gaze in her quiet eyes; and the thought almost -unmanned him. He pulled out his watch-chain, took from it the locket containing -Marian's portrait (but a very poor specimen of photography, taken by an -"arteeste" who had visited Helmingham in a green van on wheels, and who both -orally and in his printed bills laid immense stress on the fact that not merely -the portrait, but a frame and hook to hang it up by, were in certain cases -"given in"), and kissed it tenderly. "In a very little time now, my darling!" he -murmured--"in a very little time we shall be happy."</p> - -<p>Pondering on his coming meeting with Marian actively suggested the thought of -the severance of existing ties, and the parting with the people with whom he was -then domesticated. He had been very happy, he thought, all things considered. He -was in a bright pleasant mood, and thus indisposed to think harshly of anything, -even of Lady Hetherington's occasional fits of temper or insolence. Certainly -Lady Hetherington had always treated him with perfect courtesy, and since the -great day of the ice-accident had evinced towards him a marked partiality. As -for Lady Caroline--he did not know why his cheek should flush as he thought of -her, he felt it flush, but he did not know why--as for Lady Caroline, she had -been a true friend; nothing could, exceed the kindness which she had shown him -from the day of his arrival among the family, and he should always think of her -with interest and regard. It was clearly his duty to tell Lord Hetherington of -the offer he had received, and of the chance of his leaving his secretaryship. -Or, as Lord Hetherington was scarcely a man of business, and as Lady -Hetherington cared but little about such matters, and might not be pleased at -having them thrust under her notice, it would be better to mention it to Lady -Caroline. She would be most interested, and, he thought, with the flush again -rising in his face, most annoyed at the news; though he felt sure that it was -plainly a rise in life for him, and his proper course to pursue, and would -eventually give her pleasure. He would not wait for the receipt of Marian's -reply--there was no need for that, his bounding heart told him--but he would -take the first opportunity that offered of telling Lady Caroline how matters -stood, and asking her advice as to how he should mention the fact to her -brother. That opportunity came speedily. As Joyce was sitting in the library, -his desk an island in a sea of deeds and papers and pedigrees, memorials of -bygone Wests, his pen idly resting in his hand, his eyes looking steadfastly at -nothing, and his brains busy with the future, the door opened, and Lady Caroline -entered. Joyce looked up, and for the third time within an hour the flush -mounted to his face.</p> - -<p>"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Mr. Joyce," said her ladyship, "but I have -two or three notes for to-night's post, and the house is so upset with this -coming departure for London, that there's not a quiet place where one can write -a line but here. I'll sit down at West's writing-table and be as mute as a -mouse."</p> - -<p>"There's no occasion for silence, Lady Caroline," replied Joyce. "I am not -specially busy just now, and indeed I was going to ask the favour of a little -conversation with you."</p> - -<p>"Conversation with me?" And Lady Caroline's voice, unconsciously perhaps, -became a little harder, her manner a little less familiar as she spoke.</p> - -<p>"With you, if you please. I have some news to tell, and some advice to ask."</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I shall be delighted to hear the first and to give the second--that -is, if advice from me would be of any use to you, which I very much doubt." -Neither voice nor manner were in the least relaxed, and Lady Caroline's face was -very pale, and rather hard and stern. "However," she added, after a moment's -pause, finding he did not speak, and in a different tone, "under present -circumstances I ought to feel very little compunction in disturbing you, for you -go to town on Wednesday, and you know you prophesied for yourself the strictest -seclusion when once you arrived at Hetherington House."</p> - -<p>"That is the very matter on which I wanted to speak to you, Lady Caroline!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Lady Caroline, with a rather disappointed air.</p> - -<p>"I don't suppose that I shall ever set foot inside Hetherington House."</p> - -<p>"Why, you don't mean to say you have gone back to that originally -preposterous notion of remaining here after we have all gone? Do you remember -the man who was going to play Othello and blacked himself all over, Mr. Joyce? -There is such a thing as overdoing one's devotion to one's duty; or rather, what -one imagines one's duty."</p> - -<p>"No, I certainly do not intend to remain at Westhope."</p> - -<p>"You are pleased to speak in enigmas to-day, Mr. Joyce, and as I am horridly -stupid at such things, and never guessed one of them in my life, I must be -content to wait until you are further pleased to explain." There was an -impertinence about her ladyship sometimes in look and tone which became her -immensely, and was extraordinarily provoking.</p> - -<p>"Seriously, then, Lady Caroline, I am thinking of leaving my present -occupation----"</p> - -<p>"Of leaving us--I mean Lord Hetherington?" interrupted Lady Caroline.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Not that I am not, as I ought to be, thoroughly grateful to his -lordship and to everybody of his family for their kindness and consideration to -me, but the fact is that I have received an offer of employment which, perhaps, -will suit me better, and----"</p> - -<p>"You would be very foolish not to avail yourself of it, then, Mr. Joyce," -again interrupted Lady Caroline, the chilling tone coming back to her voice and -the stern look to her face.</p> - -<p>"Will you kindly hear me out?" said Joyce. "I am not exaggerating when I say -that I am so grateful for all the kindness which I have received in this house, -that nothing would tempt me to leave it that did not give me the chance of being -enabled to gratify the one wish of my life. The offer which has been made to me -will, I think, do this. You have been good enough, Lady Caroline, to admit me to -sufficient intimacy to talk of my private affairs, and when I mention the one -wish of my life, you will know that I mean my marriage with Miss Ashurst."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," said Lady Caroline, full of attention; "and the proposition -which is under your consideration--or, rather, which I suppose you have -accepted--will enable you to carry out this plan?"</p> - -<p>"It will. There shall be no disguise with you. I am offered the post of -Berlin correspondent to a London newspaper. The salary would not be considered -large by you, or any one of your--you know what I mean," he said, in answer to -an impatient movement of her head. "But it is sufficient to enable me to offer -Marian the comforts which she ought to have, and to receive her mother to live -with us."</p> - -<p>"That will be very nice--very nice indeed," said Lady Caroline reflectively. -"I'm sure I congratulate you very heartily, Mr. Joyce--very heartily. I think -you said, when that man--what's his name?--Lord Hetherington's agent--said -something about a boy whom you knew being killed--I think you said you had not -heard from Miss Ashurst for some time."</p> - -<p>"Yee; I did say so."</p> - -<p>"Have you heard since?"</p> - -<p>"No, I have not. But I can perfectly understand her silence, and you would if -you knew her. Marian is one of those persons who, on occasions like this--of -illness and death, I mean--are the mainstay of the place wherever they may -happen to be, and have to take the whole burden of management on to their own -shoulders."</p> - -<p>"Of course--certainly--no doubt," said Lady Caroline. "And she has not -written since the boy's death?"</p> - -<p>"No, not since."</p> - -<p>"It must have been a sad blow for the old father to bear. I don't know why I -call him old, though. What age is he?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Creswell? About fifty-five, I should think."</p> - -<p>"Ah, poor man! poor man!" said Lady Caroline, with much greater expression of -pity for Mr. Creswell than when she first heard of Tom's death. "You have -written to Miss Ashurst, informing her of this proposition, you say, Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I wrote directly the offer assumed a tangible form."</p> - -<p>"And as yet you have not had her reply?"</p> - -<p>"No; there has not been time. I only wrote yesterday; she will not get the -letter until to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"True, a two days' post from here to--where she is staying. Then you will -look for her answer on Wednesday. Are you entirely depending on Miss Ashurst's -reply?"</p> - -<p>"I scarcely understand you, Lady Caroline."</p> - -<p>"I mean, you are waiting until you hear from Miss Ashurst before you send -your acceptance of this offer? Exactly so! But--suppose Miss Ashurst thought it -unadvisable for her to leave this place where she is staying just now----"</p> - -<p>"That is an impossible supposition."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, put it that her mother's health--which you told me was -ailing--was such as to prevent her from undertaking so long and serious a -journey, and that she thought it her duty to remain by her mother----"</p> - -<p>"'Forsaking all other, and cleaving only unto him,'" quoted Joyce with -gravity.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, my dear Mr. Joyce, very proper; but not the way of the world -nowadays; besides, I'm sure you would not be selfish enough to have the old lady -left behind amongst strangers. However, grant it hypothetically--would you still -take up this appointment?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot possibly say," replied Joyce, after a moment's pause. "The idea is -quite new to me. I have never given it consideration."</p> - -<p>"I think I should, under any circumstances, if I were you," said Lady -Caroline earnestly, and looking hard at him. "You have talent, energy, and -patience, the three great requisites for success, and you are, or I am very much -mistaken, intended for a life of action. I do not advise you to continue in the -course now opening to you. Even if you start for it, it should be made but a -steppingstone to a higher and a nobler career."</p> - -<p>"And that is----"</p> - -<p>"Politics! Plunged in them you forget all smaller things, forget the petty -disappointments and discouragements which we all have equally to contend with, -whatever may be our lot in life, and wonder that such trivial matters ever -caused you annoyance! Wedded to them, you want no other tie; ambition takes the -place of love, is a thousand times more absorbing, and in most cases offers a -far more satisfactory reward. You seem to me eminently suited for such a career, -and if you were to take my advice, you will seek an opportunity for embracing -it."</p> - -<p>"You would not have me throw away the substance for the shadow? You forget -that the chance of my life is now before me!"</p> - -<p>"I am by no means so certain that it is the chance of your life, Mr. Joyce! I -am by no means certain that it is for the best that this offer has been made to -you, or that the result will prove as you imagine. But in any case you should -think seriously of entering on a political career. Your constant cry has been on -a matter on which we have always quarrelled, and a reference to which on your -part very nearly sent me off just now--you will harp upon the difference of -social position. Now, distinction in politics levels all ranks. The two leaders -of political parties in the present day, who really have <i>pas</i> and -precedence over the highest in the land, who are the dispensers of patronage, -and the cynosures of the world, are men sprung from the people. There is no -height to which the successful politician may not attain."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not," said Joyce. "But I confess I am entirely devoid of ambition!"</p> - -<p>"You think so now, but you will think differently some day, perhaps. It is a -wonderfully useful substitute."</p> - -<p>"Would you advise me to speak to Lord Hetherington about my intentions?"</p> - -<p>"I think not just yet, seeing that you scarcely know what your intentions -are. I think I would wait until after Wednesday. Good-bye, Mr. Joyce; I have -gossiped away all my spare time, and my letters must wait till to-morrow. You -will not fail to let me know when you receive your reply. I shall be most -anxious to know."</p> - -<p> -"This country beauty is playing fast and loose with him," said Lady Caroline to -herself, as the door closed behind her. "She is angling for a bigger fish, and -he is so innocent, or so much in love--the same thing--as not to perceive it. -Poor fellow it will be an awful blow for him, but it will come, I feel certain."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> -<h5>SUCCESS ACHIEVED.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The step which Mr. Creswell took in asking Marian Ashurst to become his wife -was not taken without due care and consideration. As, during a lifetime which -had now exceeded half a century, he had been accustomed to ponder over, sift, -and weigh the most minor details of even trivial schemes before carrying them -out, it was not likely that he would give less attention to a plan, on the -successful or unsuccessful result of which his whole hope of future earthly -happiness or misery might be based. The plan presented itself to him squarely -and from a business-like point of view, like all other plans which he -entertained, and had two aspects--as to how it would affect himself, and how it -would affect others. He took it under the first aspect and thought it out -carefully. His was a loving nature, always desiring something to cherish and -cling to. In bygone years he had had his wife, whom he had worshipped with all -the warmth of his loving nature. She had been the sharer of his struggles, but -it had not been permitted to her to take part in his success; doubtless for the -best--for Mr. Creswell, like all men who have been thoroughly successful, and -with whom everything has gone straight, had perfect trust and reliance on the -dispensations of Providence--she had been removed before his position was -acquired. But she had left behind her a son for whom that position was destined, -for whom his father slaved for years, adding to his wealth and establishing his -name, all the while hoping against hope that the boy might one day learn how to -use the former and how to maintain the latter. As the lad grew up, and year by -year showed his real nature more and more, so the hope grew fainter and fainter -in the father's heart, until it was finally extinguished by Tom's death. And -then he had no hope left in the world, or rather he would have had none had it -not been for Marian. It seemed as though matters had been providentially -arranged, Mr. Creswell thought. The dependent state of Marian and her mother, -his power of assisting them, their being domiciled under his roof, which had -given him such opportunity of studying Marian's character, and had so entirely -reversed his original opinion of her, the assistance and support she had -afforded him during that sad period of poor Tom's death,--all seemed predestined -and prearranged. He knew her now. It was not like taking a girl with whom his -acquaintance had been slight, or even one whom he might have thought he knew -intimately, but whom he had only seen on her society-behaviour, or in such guise -as she would naturally affect before any one whom she knew to be noticing her -with an object. He had seen Marian Ashurst under all circumstances, and in all -places. Under the strongest and hardest trials he had always seen her come out -brightest and best, and he had had full opportunity of observing the sterling -worth of her character. Was the end of all his life of toil and strife to be an -unloved and unloving old age? Was the position which he had acquired to benefit -no one but himself, and to die out with him? Was the wealth which he had amassed -to be filtered away into dirty channels, or left for the benefit of charities? -If these questions were to be answered in the negative, where could he find such -a helpmate as Marian, where could he dream of looking for such another? His -conduct could scarcely be characterised as selfish, he thought, if after the -life of work and anxiety which he had passed, he tried to render its latter -portion peaceful and happy; and that, he felt, was only to be done by his -marriage with Marian.</p> - -<p>So much for himself; but how would it affect others? Marian, first? Mr. -Creswell was so true and so honourable a man that even in a case like the -present, where the interest of his future was at stake, he would not have used -an argument in the firm basis of which he did not himself believe. In pleading -his cause to Marian, he had somewhat enlarged upon the responsibility laid on -her in regard to her mother--responsibility which, he argued, would be -considerably lightened, if not entirely removed, by her acceptance of the -position which he offered her. He believed this firmly, setting it down as an -undoubted gain to Marian, who would also have position, wealth, a home, and a -protector. What on the other side--what, as they said in business, per -contra--what would she lose? He hoped, nothing. To many girls, to most girls, a -husband old enough to be their father would have been in the highest degree -objectionable; but Marian was so different to any girls he had ever seen. She -was so staid, so decorous, so old-fashioned; her life had been one of such -quietude and earnestness; she had always been associated with people so much -older than herself. And then she had never had any love-affair! Mr. Creswell -thanked Heaven for that. He could not fancy anything worse than playing the part -of Auld Robin Gray in the ballad, and being received and accepted for the sake -of his money, and, more than that, causing the rejection of a poorer suitor. -That would be too dreadful! No. Marian had not been thrown in the way of that -kind of thing; her father had neither entertained company nor taken her into -society, and there was no one in the village, Mr. Creswell thought with a grave -smile, who would have ventured to uplift his eyes towards her. He should not -expect from her any romantic worship, any girlish devotion, but, at all events, -she would come to him heart-whole, without any remains of previous attachments -or bygone passions.</p> - -<p>Who else would be affected by this marriage? His nieces. At least, so the -world would think and say, but he should take care that the world was wrong. On -the contrary, if anybody rather benefited by the step he was about to take, it -should be those girls; principally because they were the persons who would be -selected for the world's pity, and also because, he could not tell why, he -rather disliked them. It was very wrong, he knew, and he had often reasoned with -himself, and struggled hard against it, but the result was always the same. They -were no companions for him. He had tried very hard to make himself feel -interested in them, but, beyond his natural kinsman interest and compassion for -their forlorn state of orphanage, without effect. He had examined himself as to -the cause of this want of interest, and had explained to himself that they were -"frivolous;" by which he meant that they had no notions of business, of money, -of responsibility, of the various items which make up the serious side of life. -All those qualities which made up the charms of Marian Ashurst were wanting in -these girls. In reality they were not in the least frivolous; they were far -better educated and informed than most young ladies of their class, and one of -them, Maude, had superior natural gifts. But they were not after their uncle's -bent, and he could not make them so. That, however, was the exact reason why a -man with such a keen sense of honour as Mr. Creswell should treat them with even -extra consideration, and should be more than ever cautious that no such -proceeding as his marriage should injure them in any possible way. He thought it -was due to the girls, as well as advisable for many reasons, that they should be -made acquainted with the forthcoming change as speedily as possible; and he took -an opportunity of saying so to Marian on the Sunday evening. Marian quite agreed -with him. She had never been enthusiastic on the subject of the girls, and she -did not pretend to be now.</p> - -<p>"It would only be right that they should know it at once," she said. "I had -rather, if you please, that you should tell them. It will come from you better -than from me. I suppose I shall get on very well with them."</p> - -<p>"Get on very well with them!" repeated Mr. Creswell. "With the girls? Why, of -course you will, dearest. What reason could there be why you should not get on -with them?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, none in the least--of course not! It was a silly remark of mine."</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell knew that she never made silly remarks; one of his avowed boasts -about her was, that she never spoke without thinking, and always spoke at the -right time. He felt a little uncomfortable, therefore, and dropped the subject, -saying, "I will tell them, then, to-morrow morning. Did you speak to Mrs. -Ashurst?"</p> - -<p>"I did!"</p> - -<p>"And she----?"</p> - -<p>"And she is almost as happy as her daughter at the thought! Is that -sufficient?"</p> - -<p>"God bless her!" said Mr. Creswell. "Her comfort shall be our first care! Ah, -Marian, you are an angel!" And Marian thought it mattered very little how the -young ladies might receive the announcement of their uncle's intended marriage, -so long as their uncle held that last expressed opinion.</p> - -<p>The next morning, while the young ladies were at their music practice, they -received a message that their uncle wished to see them. It was not meant to be a -formal message, but it certainly smacked somewhat of formality. Hitherto, -whenever their uncle wanted them, he had been in the habit of either coming to -their room, or of calling them to him. Maude looked astonished at the solemnity -of the phrase "wishes to see you" as the servant delivered it, while Gertrude -raised her eyebrows at her sister, and audibly wondered what it meant.</p> - -<p>They found their uncle seated in his library, the desk before him as usual -heaped with papers and accounts, and plenty of Miss Ashurst's handwriting, so -horribly neat and so painfully legible, as Gertrude described it, to be seen -everywhere. Mr. Creswell rose as they entered, and received them with all his -usual kindness; Maude thought his manner was a little flurried and his face a -little pale, but she could not gather from anything she saw the reason of their -summons. Gertrude had made up her mind that somebody, she did not know who, had -proposed for Maude; but then she could not see why she was required to be -present at the announcement.</p> - -<p>There was rather an uncomfortable hitch in the proceedings at first, Mr. -Creswell obviously finding it difficult to touch upon the topic which he had to -treat, and the girls having no topic to touch upon. At length, Maude broke the -silence by saying, "You sent for us, uncle. You wished to see us."</p> - -<p>"Yes, my dears--yes, girls, I wanted to see you, and I asked the servant to -beg you to step here, as I had something special that I wanted to say to you, -for you know, my dear children, that since you came to live with me, I have -always treated you as if you were my daughters--at least, I hope I have; it has -been my wish to do so."</p> - -<p>"You always have done so, uncle!" said Maude, decisively.</p> - -<p>"Always, uncle!" echoed Gertrude, who was best as chorus.</p> - -<p>"That's right, my dears. I'm glad you've found it so, as I intended it. So -long as I live you will find that you will be treated in the same way, and I -have made such provision for you in my will as I would have made for my own -daughters, if it had pleased God to give me any. Having told you this, it's -right that I should tell you of something which is going to happen in this -house, though it won't make any difference in your position, nor any difference -to you at all that I know of, but yet it's right you should be made acquainted -with it. I'm--I'm going to be married!"</p> - -<p>There was a pause for an instant, and then it was Gertrude spoke.</p> - -<p>"To be married!" she said. "You going to be married!--Oh, uncle, I know to -whom! I'm sure I can guess!"</p> - -<p>"Guess, then, my dear," said Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>"To dear old Mrs. Ashurst, isn't it?" cried Gertrude. "I'm sure it is! She is -the very kindest, sweetest old thing and if she only had better health---- I'm -right, uncle, am I not?--it is Mrs. Ashurst?"</p> - -<p>"No, my dear," said Mr. Creswell, with hesitating voice and glowing -cheeks--"no, my dear, it's not Mrs. Ashurst!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, then, it's some one you have met away from Woolgreaves, away from the -neighbourhood, some one we don't know!"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed!" said Mr. Creswell, "it is some one you know very well, and I -hope love very much. It is Marian--Miss Ashurst."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my!" exclaimed Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"I wish you all happiness, dear uncle," said Maude, rising from her seat, -crossing to her uncle, and bending down to kiss him as he sat.</p> - -<p>"So do I, dear uncle," said Gertrude, following her sister.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, my dears," said Mr. Creswell; "thank you very much. I said before -that nothing should make any difference in your position here, nor in my -intentions for the future--nor will it. Besides, it isn't as if it were a -stranger--you've known Marian so long----"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, we've known Miss Ashurst for some time!" said Maude, with emphasis.</p> - -<p>"Exactly!" said Mr. Creswell. "As I say, it isn't as if it were a stranger. -Marian has been domiciled with us now for some time, and there is no reason why, -so far as you and she are concerned, things should not go on exactly as they -have done! At least, I know this to be her wish and mine," he added, after a -short pause.</p> - -<p>"Whatever is your wish, uncle, I'm sure Gertrude and I will be delighted to -fulfil----"</p> - -<p>"Delighted!" interposed Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"And I don't think Miss Ashurst will find us give her any trouble."</p> - -<p>"Miss Ashurst! Why not speak of her as Marian, my dear?" said Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>"She has always been Miss Ashurst to me hitherto, and you know I'm not going -to marry her, uncle!" said Maude, almost brusquely.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of Miss A. now?" said Gertrude, when the girls were back -in their room. "I used to laugh about her being superior! But she has shown -herself superior to us with a vengeance! Fancy having her for an aunt, and -having to ask her permission to do this and that, and go here and there! Oh, my! -Why don't you speak, Maude? why don't you say something about all this?"</p> - -<p>"Because I can't trust myself to speak," said Maude hurriedly. "Because I'm -afraid of blurting out something that were better left unsaid."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then, you're not so pleased at the connection! I'm sure by the way in -which you wished your uncle happiness, one would have thought that the dearest -wish of your heart had been realised. What do you think of Miss A.'s conduct, I -mean as regards this matter?"</p> - -<p>"Just what I think of it, and have always thought of it as regards every -other matter, that it is selfish, base, and deceitful. That woman came here with -a predetermined plan of marrying uncle, and chance has helped her to carry it -into effect even more quickly than she anticipated. Tom saw that; he told us so, -if you recollect. Poor Tom! he was a dull, unpleasant lad, but he was -wonderfully shrewd, and he saw through this woman's tactics in a minute, and -determined to spoil them. He would have done so, had he lived, and now, I've no -doubt that the very fact of his death has been the means of hurrying uncle into -taking this step!"</p> - -<p>"Do you think Miss A. cares for uncle, Maude?"</p> - -<p>"Cares for him--what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Well, of course, I don't mean to be awfully fond, and all that sort of -thing, like lovers, you know, and all that! What do you think she--well, she's -fond of him?"</p> - -<p>"Of <i>him</i>?No! she's fond of his name and his position, his money and his -influence! She's fond of Woolgreaves; she has become accustomed to its comforts, -and she does not choose to give them up!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know that Miss A. is to be particularly pitched into for that, -Maude," said Gertrude. "I think, perhaps, we ought to look at home before making -any such suggestions! We have become accustomed to the comforts of Woolgreaves, -and we--at least I--should be uncommonly sorry to give them up!"</p> - -<p>"Well, but we have some claim to them; at all events, we are of uncle's -blood, and did not come here designedly, with a view to establish ourselves -here, as I'm certain this woman did! And when you talk of our not giving up our -present life--look to it!"</p> - -<p>"Look, Maude! what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"What do I mean! That we shall have to change our lives very quickly! You -don't suppose Marian Ashurst is going to live her life with us as constant -reminders to her of what was? You don't suppose that we--that I, at least, am -going to waste my life with her as my rock ahead--not I, indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Well, Maude," said Gertrude quietly, "I don't suppose anything about -anything! I never do. What you propose I shall agree to, and that's all I know, -or all I care for!"</p> - -<p> -It was Marian's wish that the marriage should be delayed for some little time, -but Mr. Creswell was of the opposite advice, and thought it would be better to -have the ceremony as soon as possible. "Life is very short, Marian," he said, -"and I am too old to think of deferring my happiness. I am looking to you as my -wife to brighten and soothe the rest of my days, and I am selfish enough to -grudge every one of them until you are in that position! It is all very well for -young people to have their term of courtship and engagement, and all the rest of -it, but you are going to throw yourself away on an old man, dear one"--and he -smiled fondly and patted her cheek, "and you must be content to dispense with -that, and come to him at once!"</p> - -<p>"Content is not the word to express my feelings and wishes in the matter," -said Marian; "only I thought that--after Tom's death, so soon, I mean--people -might say that it would have been better to have waited till----"</p> - -<p>"My dearest child, no waiting would restore my poor boy to me; and I look to -you to fill the void in my heart which his loss has made. As for people talking, -I have lived too long, child, to pay the slightest heed to what they say. If -such gossip moved me one jot, it would rather strengthen my wish to hasten our -marriage, as it supplies me with an argument which you evidently have not -perceived----"</p> - -<p>"And that is----"</p> - -<p>"And that is, that you may depend upon it these sticklers for the proprieties -and conventionalities, these worshippers of Mrs. Grundy, will be very much -interested in our movements, and highly scandalised if, under these fresh -circumstances which they have just learned, you remain an inmate of my house. -What has been perfectly right and decorous for the last few months would be -highly improper for the next few weeks, according to their miserable doctrine. I -should not have named this to you, Marian, had not the conversation taken this -turn; nor even then, had you been a silly girl and likely to be influenced by -such nonsense. However much you might wish to go away and live elsewhere until -our marriage, you cannot. Your mother's state of health precludes any -possibility of her removal, and therefore the only thing for us to do is to get -the marriage over as quickly as possible, and thus effectually silence Mrs. -Grundy's disciples."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Marian. "I suppose for the same reason it will be better -that the wedding should be here?"</p> - -<p>"Here? Why, my dearest Marian, where would you wish it to be?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I should like us to go away to some quiet little place where we were -neither of us known, and just walk into the church----"</p> - -<p>"And just smuggle through the ceremony and slip away, so that no one should -see you were marrying a man old enough to be your father! Is that it, pet? I -ought to feel highly complimented, and----"</p> - -<p>"Please, not even in joke! No, no; you know what I mean. I cannot explain it, -but----"</p> - -<p>"I know exactly, darling, but we can't help it. If you wish it, the wedding -shall be perfectly quiet, only just ourselves; but it must take place here, and -I don't suppose our good neighbours would let it pass off without some -demonstration of their regard, whatever we might say to them. By the way, I -mentioned it to the girls this morning."</p> - -<p>"And what did they say?" Marian asked with, for her, rather unusual -eagerness. "Or, rather, what did Maude say; for Gertrude, of course, merely -echoed her sister?"</p> - -<p>"Poor Gerty!" said Mr. Creswell, smiling; "hitherto she has not displayed -much originality. Oh, Maude was very affectionate indeed; came over and kissed -me, and wished me all happiness. And, as you say, of course Gertrude did and -said ditto. Have they--have they said anything to you?"</p> - -<p>"Not a word. I have scarcely seen them since yesterday."</p> - -<p>"Ah! They'll take an opportunity of coming to you. I know they are delighted -at anything which they think will conduce to my happiness."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps they don't think that your marrying me will have that effect," said -Marian with a half smile.</p> - -<p>"'Please, not even in joke'--it is my turn to say that now," said Mr. -Creswell.</p> - -<p> -It was a perfect godsend to the people of Helmingham, this news; and coming so -soon, too--a few months' interval was comparatively nothing in the -village--after the excitement caused by young Tom's death. They had never had -the remotest idea that Mr. Creswell would ever take to himself a second wife; -they had long since given up the idea of speculating upon Marian Ashurst's -marriage prospects; and the announcement was almost too much for them to -comprehend. Generally, the feeling was one of satisfaction, for the old -schoolmaster and Mrs. Ashurst had both been popular in the village, and there -had been much commiseration, expressed with more warmth and honesty than good -taste, when it was murmured that the widow and Marian would have to give up -housekeeping--an overwhelming degradation in the Helmingham mind--and go into -lodgings. A little alloy might have existed in the fact that no new element -would be brought into their society, no stranger making her first appearance as -the "squire's lady," to be stared at on her first Sunday in church, and -discussed and talked over after her first round of visits. But this -disappointment was made up to Mrs. Croke and Mrs. Whicher, and others of their -set, by the triumph and vindication of their own perspicuity and appreciation of -character. They appealed to each other, and to a sympathising audience round a -tea-table specially spread, directly authentic confirmation of the news of the -intended marriage was received, whether they had not always said that, "That -girl's heart was set on money!" That it would take some one "wi' pounds an' -pounds" to win her, and they had proved right, and she were now going to be made -mistress of Woolgreaves, eh? Money enough there, as Mrs. Whicher told Mrs. -M'Shaw, to satisfy even her longing for riches. "But it's not all goold that -glitters," said the thrifty housewife; "and it's not all sunshine even then. -There's givin' up liberty, and suchlike, to who? It 'minds me of the story of a -man as cam' to market wi' a cart-load o' cheeses and grindstones. The cheeses -was that beautiful that every one wanted they, but no one bought the -grindstones; so seein' this, the man, who were from where your husband comes -from, Mrs. M'Shaw, the north, he said he wouldn't sell ere a cheese unless they -bought a grindstone at the same time; and so he cleared off the lot. I'm -thinkin' that wi' Marian Ashurst the money's the cheese, but she can't take that -wi'out the old man, the grindstone." Scarcely anything was said about the -singularity of the circumstance that a pretty girl like Marian had not had any -lovers. Mrs. Croke remarked that once she thought there would be "something -between" Marian and "that young Joyce," but she was promptly put down; Mrs. -Whicher observing scornfully that a girl with Marian's notions of money wasn't -likely to have "taken up wi' an usher;" and Mrs. Baker, little Sam's mother, -clearing it would have been an awful thing, if true, as she was given to -understand that young Joyce had "leff for a soldier," and the last thing heard -of him was that he had actually 'listed.</p> - -<p>The wedding-day arrived, to Marian's intense relief. She had been haunted by -an odd feeling that Walter Joyce might even come to see her, or at all events -might write to her, either to induce her to change her resolution or to upbraid -her with her perfidy. But he had made no sign, and there was no chance of his -doing so now. She was perfectly calm and composed, and steadily contemplated her -future, and had made up her mind as to her intended disposal of various persons -so soon as she commenced her new path in life. That would not be just yet; they -were going away for a fortnight to the seaside, Mrs. Ashurst being left to the -care of the girls, who were delighted at the charge. Maude and Gertrude were to -be bridesmaids, and no one else was to be officially present at the ceremony -save Dr. Osborne, who, as Marian's oldest friend, was to give her away. The -little doctor was in the greatest delight at the match, which he looked upon as -being somewhat of his own making, though he thought it the best joke in the -world to rally Marian by telling her that "her housekeeper project was a much -better one than his. He had only thought Mrs. Ashurst might succeed Mrs. Caddy -for a little time; but, by George, little Marian all the time intended to make -herself head of the house for life!" The villagers, however, were not to be -balked of their ceremonial, The bells were rung, general holiday was made, and -Marian Creswell, leaning on her husband's arm, walked from the church on flowers -strewn on the path by the girls who a few years before had been her -schoolfellows.</p> - -<p>"What an incongruous time for such a letter to arrive!" said Mr. Creswell to -Marian, as they were waiting for the carriage to drive to the railway, handing -her a paper. She took it and read:</p> -<br> - -<p>"DEAR SIR,</p> -<p style="text-indent:10%">General E. will be about six weeks hence. Please be -prepared. We calculate on you for B.</p> -<p style="text-indent:20%">"Yours truly,</p> -<p style="text-indent:25%">"J. GOULD."</p> -<br> - -<p>"I can't understand it," said Marian. "Who is General E., and where will he -be about six weeks hence? Why are you to be prepared, and what is B. that they -calculate on you for?"</p> - -<p>"General E.," said Mr. Creswell, laughing, "is the general election, and B. -is Brocksopp, for which borough I've promised to stand. However, there's enough -of that now. My darling, I hope you will never regret this day."</p> - -<p>"I am certain I shall not," she replied, quite calmly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE GIRLS THEY LEFT BEHIND THEM.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It is a conventional, but by no means a correct, notion, that at the time of -a social separation those who are left behind have so very much the worst of it. -People imagine that those who remain must necessarily be so dull after the -departure of their friends; though very frequently those departing are the very -persons who have imported gloom and misery into the household, who have sat like -social old men and women of the sea on the necks of the jovial Sindbads, who -have been skeletons at the feast, and wet blankets, and bottle-stoppers, and -kill-joys, and mirth-quenchers, and story-balkers. It is by no means an uncommon -occurrence, that there has been no such pleasant music for weeks, in the ears of -those remaining in the house, as the noise of the wheels of the carriage -speeding the parting guest.</p> - -<p>The people of Helmingham village, when they saw the carriage containing Mr. -Creswell and his bride spinning away to the station, after indulging in a fresh -theme of talk expressive of their surprise at all that had happened, and their -delight at the cleverness of the schoolmaster's daughter, who had, as they -politely expressed it, "carried her pigs to such a good market," began to -discuss the situation at Woolgreaves; and as it had been universally agreed that -the day should be made a general holiday, the new-married folk, and their kith -and kin, their past and future, were served up as topics of conversation, not -merely at the various village tea-tables, but in the commercial room of the Lion -at Brocksopp, which, there being no commercial gentlemen staying in the house, -had been yielded up to the tenantry on the estate, who were given to understand -that Mr. Teesdale, Mr. Creswell's agent, would attend to the bill. It was long -since the Lion had done such a roaring trade, for the commercial gents, by whom -the house was chiefly frequented, though convivial souls, were apt to be -convivial on small orders, "fours" of rum and "sixes" of brandy; and it was only -on exceptional occasions that old Mr. Mulock, who "travelled in hardware," would -suffer himself to be fined a crown bowl of punch for having committed the -uncommercial atrocity of smoking in the commercial room before seven o'clock, or -young Mr. Cunynghame, who represented his own firm in Scotch goods--a very -pushing young gentleman, and a wonderful fellow to get on--would "stand -champagne round" when he had received a specially remunerative order. But now -Miss Parkhurst, in the bar, had not a second to herself, the demand for her -strong mahogany-coloured brandy-and-water was so great; steaming jorums of "hot -with" here, huge goblets of "cold without" there; the fascinating Hebe of the -Lion had not dispensed so much drink at one time since the day when old Major -Barth was returned in the Conservative interest for Brocksopp--and the major, it -is allowed, was not merely a hard drinker himself, but the cause of hard -drinking in others; while as for old Tilley, the jolly landlord, he was so -overwhelmed with the exertion of punch-compounding, that he took off the -short-tailed snuff-coloured coat which he usually wore, and went to work in his -shirt-sleeves, slicing lemons, mixing, strengthening, sweetening--ay, and -tasting too--until his pleasant face, always round and red, assumed a greater -rotundity and an extra glow, and his little, short, fat body ached again with -fatigue.</p> - -<p>But, as is very often the case in better society than that with which we are -now engaged, the amount of conversation indulged in had not been in equal ratio -with the amount of liquor consumed. They were very quiet drinkers in those -parts, and on great occasions sat round the council fire as silently and gravely -as a set of aboriginal Indians. They had touched lightly on the subject of the -wedding, but only as men who knew that they had an interminable subject at hand, -ready to fall back upon whenever they felt disposed, and from that they had -jumped at a tangent to discussing the chances of the lambing season, where they -were far more at home, and much more practical in what they had to say. The -fertility of Farmer Gardner's ewes, or the carelessness of Tom Howson, Farmer -Jeffrey's shepherd, were topics which went home to every man present; on which -each had a distinct opinion, which he delivered with far greater force and -emphasis than when called upon to pronounce upon an analysis of the guiding -motives of the human heart in connection with the choice of a husband. Indeed, -so much had to be said upon the subject of these "yows," that the conversation -began to become rather tiresome to some members of the company, who were also -tenants of the bridegroom's, but whose business connections were rather with -commerce than agriculture or stock-purchase. These gentry, who would have sat -interested for that indefinite period known as "a blue moon," had the talk been -of markets, and prices, and "quotations," at length thought it time to vary the -intellectual repast, and one of them suggested that somebody should sing a song. -In itself not a bad proposition, but one always hard to be properly carried out. -A dead silence fell upon the company at once, broken by Farmer Whicher, who -declared he had often heard neighbour Croke "wobble like a lavrock," and moved -that neighbour Croke be at once called upon. Called upon Mr. Croke was -unanimously, but being a man of uncertain temper he nearly spoiled the harmony -of the evening by declaring flatly that he would be "darnged" if he would. A -bookkeeper in one of the Brocksopp mills, a young man of literary tendencies, -who had erected several <i>in memoriam</i> tombstones to his own genius in the <i> -Brocksopp Banner and County Chronicle</i>,then proposed that Mr. M'Shaw, who, as -the speaker remarked, "came from the land which produced the inspired -exciseman," would favour them with a Scotch ballad. But Mr. M'Shaw declined the -compliment. A thrifty man, with a large family, Alick M'Shaw always kept himself -in check in every way where expense was concerned, and now for the first time -for years he found himself in the position of being able to consume a large -quantity of whisky, without being called upon to pay for it. He knew that the -time taken up in singing the ballad would be so much time wasted, during which -he must perforce leave off drinking; and so, though he had a pretty tenor voice, -and sang very fairly, he pleaded a cold and made his excuse. Finally, everybody -having been tried, and everybody having in more or less cantankerous manner -refused, it fell upon Farmer Whicher to sing that ditty for which he was well -known for a score of miles round, which he had sung for nearly a third of a -century at various harvest-homes, shearing-feasts, and other country -merry-makings, and which never failed--it being a supposed joyous and -bacchanalian chant--in crushing the spirits and subduing the souls of those who -listened to it. It was a performance which never varied the smallest iota in its -details. The intending singer first laid down his pipe, carefully knocking out -the ashes, and placing it by his right hand to act on emergency as a conductor's -bâton; then, assuming a most dismal expression of countenance, he glared round -into the faces of those surrounding him to sue for pity, or to see if there were -any chance of a reprieve, and finding neither, he would clear his throat, which -was in itself an operation of some magnitude, and commence the song as a solemn -recitation; but the chorus, which was duly sung by all present, each man using -the most doleful tune with which he was best acquainted, ran thus:</p> - -<p> -"Then push, push, push the bowl about, And push the bowl to me-ee-- The longer -we sits here, and drinks, The merr-i-er we shall be!"</p> - -<p> -It is doubtful to what extent this doleful dirge might have been protracted, for -the number of verses is beyond human reckoning, and the more frequently the -choruses were repeated the more they are prolonged; but Mr. Teesdale, the agent, -a shrewd man of business, saw his opportunity for making a cast, and -accordingly, at the end of the ninth stanza, he banged the table with such -energy that his cue was taken by the more knowing ones, and the harmony was -abandoned as Mr. Teesdale went on to say----</p> - -<p>"Capital, bravo, excellent! Always look to you, Whicher, to sing us a good -song! First time I heard you sing that was years ago, when our old friend Hardy -gave us a supper on the occasion of opening his dancing-school! Poor Hardy, not -well, eh? or he'd have been here among us. Push the bowl about, eh? Ah, we're -likely to have plenty of that sort of fun soon, if I'm correctly informed!"</p> - -<p>"What's that, Muster Teesdale?" asked Farmer Adams. "Somebody going to be -married, eh?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, one at a time, Adams, one at a time!"</p> - -<p>"What's comin' off then, Muster Teesdale?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's expected that in about a couple of months' time there'll be a -general election, Mr. Adams, and you know what that means! I wasn't far out when -I said that the bowl would be pushed about at such a time as that, was I?"</p> - -<p>"That 'ee warn't, Muster Teesdale, that 'ee warn't! Not that we hold much wi' -'lections about here!"</p> - -<p>"That's 'cos there's no proper spirit of opp'sition," said Mr. Croke, who was -accustomed to speak very loudly and freely on political matters, and who was -delighted at seeing the conversation taking this turn; "that's 'cos there's no -proper spirit of opp'sition," he repeated, looking round him, partly in triumph, -partly to see if any antagonist were making ready net and spear. "They Tories is -'lowed to walk over the course and du just as pleases 'em!"</p> - -<p>"What sort of opp'sition could you expect, Muster Croke?" said Farmer -Spalding, puffing at his long churchwarden. "What good could Lib'rals do in a -borough like this here Brocksopp, for instance, where its factories, and works, -and mills, and suchlike, are held by rich folk as ought to be Lib'rals and is -Tories?"</p> - -<p>"Why ought they?" asked Mr. Croke; and while his interlocutor was gathering -up his answer, old Croke added, "I'm all for argeyment! I'm a Tory mysel', as -all my house have been, but I like to see a opp'sition in everything, and a -proper fight, not one-sided 'lections, such as we have seen! Well, Muster -Spalding, and why should our rich party folk be Lib'rals and not Tories?"</p> - -<p>"Because," said Mr. Spalding, fanning away the smoke from before him, and -speaking with great deliberation--"because they sprung from the people, and -therefore their symp'ties should be wi' those of whom they were afore they -became rich."</p> - -<p>"Like enough, like enough, neighbour Spalding. That's what's called -mo-rality, that is; but it's not common sense! Common sense is, that it's lucky -they grew rich; they becam' Tories, which is the same thing as meaning they -wanted their money taken care of."</p> - -<p>"Ay, ay, that's it, Croke!" said Farmer Adams. "You've just hit the way to -put un! Lib'rals when they've got nothing and want everything, Tories when -they've got something and want to take care of it."</p> - -<p>"Well, but what's Tories goin' to do this time?" asked Mr. Moule, a maltster -in the town. "Our presen' member, Sir George Neal, won't stand again! Told me so -his own self last time he was in town for quarter sessions--says he's too old. -My 'pinion is his wife won't let un. He's a rum un, is Sir George, and when he -gets up to London by himself, he goes it, they <i>du</i> say!"</p> - -<p>"Nansense, Moule! I wunner at a man o' your sense talkin' such stuff," said -Farmer Croke. "That's playin' the Lib'ral game, that is!--though I hey -understood that Sir George won't come forrerd again."</p> - -<p>"And the Lib'rals is going to mek a tre-menjous struggle this time, I've -heerd," observed Moule.</p> - -<p>"Who are they goin' to bring forrerd, hev you heerd?" asked Mr. Spalding with -interest.</p> - -<p>"Well, I did hear, but I've a'most forgot," said Mr. Moule, who was of a -misty and a muddled nature. "No, now I reck'lect, it was young Bokenham!"</p> - -<p>"What, son of old Tom Bokenham of Blott's Mills?" asked Mr. Spalding.</p> - -<p>"That same! Old man's terrible rich, they du say; firm was Bokenham and -Sculthorpe, but Sculthorpe broke his leg huntin' wi' Squire Peacock's harriers, -and has been out of business for some time."</p> - -<p>"He's just built two saw-mills in Galabin Street, hasn't he?" asked Mr. -Croke.</p> - -<p>"He has, and that plant in Harmer's Row is his too. Young Tom, he's lawyer up -in London--lawyer they say, tho' I thowt he was a parson, as they told me he -lives in a Temple, and he's wonderful clever in speakin' at club-meetin's and -suchlike, and they du say that he's not only a Lib'ral, but"--and here Mr. Moule -sank his voice to a whisper to give due horror to his revelation--"that he's an -out-and-out Rad.!"</p> - -<p>"You don't say that!" said Farmer Adams, pushing away his chair with a creak, -and gazing with terror at the speaker.</p> - -<p>"They du!" said Mr. Moule, delighted and astonished to find himself of so -much importance.</p> - -<p>"That's a bad job!" said Mr. Croke reflectively; "they carry a main lot o' -weight in this borough do they Bokenhams--a main lot of weight!"</p> - -<p>And Mr. Croke shook his head with great solemnity.</p> - -<p>"Don't be down-hearted, Mr. Croke!" said Mr. Teesdale, who had been a silent -and an amused spectator of this scene. "No doubt Tommy Bokenham, who they say is -a clever chap, and who'll be well backed by his father's banking account, is a -formidable opponent. But I much doubt if our side won't be able to bring forward -some one with as good a head on his shoulders and as much brass in his pockets!"</p> - -<p>"Where's he to be found, Muster Teesdale? Sir George won't stand, and it -would welly nigh break any one else's back in the neighbr'ood, 'less it were -young Rideout, and all his money goes in horse-racin'!"</p> - -<p>"What should you say," said Mr. Teesdale, becoming very much swollen with -importance--"what should you say to Mr. Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"Muster Creswell! What, Squire Creswell, your master, Muster Teesdale?" -exclaimed Croke, completely astounded.</p> - -<p>"My <i>employer</i>--Squire Creswell, my <i>employer!</i>" said Mr. Teesdale, -making a mental note to refuse Farmer Croke the very next request he made, no -matter what it might be.</p> - -<p>"Are you in ayrnest, Muster Teesdale?" asked Spalding. "Is th' old squire -comin' forward for Parlyment?"</p> - -<p>"He is, indeed, Mr. Spalding," replied Teesdale; "and he'll make the Lion his -head-quarters, won't he, Mr. Tilley?" he said to the old landlord, who had just -entered bearing a steaming bowl of punch.</p> - -<p>"I hope so, sir--I hope so!" said the old man in his cheery voice. "The Lion -always was the Blue house. I've seen Sir George Neal, quite dead-beat wi' -fatigue and hoarse wi' hollerin', held up at that window by Squire Armstrong on -one side, and Charley Rea, him as left here and went away to Chiney or some -furrin part, on the other, and screechin' for cheers and Kentish fires and Lord -knows what to the mob outside! I ha' got the blue banner somewhere now, that -Miss Good, as was barmaid here afore Miss Parkhurst came, 'broidered herself for -Sir George at last election."</p> - -<p>"Well, there'll be no banners or anything of that kind now, Tilley; that's -against the law, that is, but there'll be plenty of fun for all that, and plenty -of fighting, for the matter of that, for Mr. Creswell means to win!"</p> - -<p>"He really du?" asked Farmer Croke, once more in high spirits.</p> - -<p>"He really does! And, what's more, I may tell you, gentlemen, as it's no -longer any secret, that Mr. Creswell's candidature is approved by her Majesty's -Government, by Sir George Neal, and by the principal county gentlemen, so that -there's no likelihood of any split in the Conservative camp! And as for young -Mr. Bokenham, of whom our friend Moule here has told us so much, well--even if -he is all that our friend Moule has made him out--we must try and beat him even -then!"</p> - -<p>Poor Mr. Moule! it was lucky he had enjoyed his temporary notoriety, for the -sarcasm of the agent speedily relegated him to his old post of butt and dolt.</p> - -<p> -The household at Woolgreaves seemed to get on very well during the absence of -its legitimate heads. The young ladies rather gloried in their feeling of -independence, in the freedom from the necessity of having to consult any one or -to exercise the smallest system of restraint, and they took pleasure in sitting -with Mrs. Ashurst and ministering to her small wants. They had always had a -kindly feeling towards the old lady, and this had been increased by her -helplessness, and by her evident unconsciousness of the manner in which the -world was slipping away from her. There is something sad in witnessing the -struggle for resignation with which persons, smitten with mortal disease, and -conscious of their fate, strive to give up all worldly hopes and cares, and to -wean their thoughts and aspirations from those things on which they have -hitherto been bent; but there is something infinitely more sad in watching the -sick-bed of one who is all unconscious of the fiat that has gone forth, who -knows, indeed, that her strength is not what it was, but who has no idea that -the hand is already uplifted and the dart already poised. Mrs. Ashurst was in -this last-named condition; she had gradually been growing weaker and weaker, but -there were times when she plucked up wonderfully, and when she would talk of -things present, ay, and of things future, as though she had years of life to -run. The girls encouraged her to talk. Dr. Osborne had told them that she must -be "roused" as much as possible, and they would sit with her and chatter for -hours, the old lady taking no inconsiderable share in the conversation. It was -astonishing with what unanimity they had hitherto kept off the subject of the -marriage, the very topic which one might have imagined would have been the first -they would have discussed; but whenever they came near it, whenever they grew -"warm," as children say in the old-fashioned game, they seemed by tacit instinct -bound to draw away and leave it untouched. At last one day, after the married -couple had been a week absent, Mrs. Ashurst said quietly--</p> - -<p>"Maude, my dear, weren't you very much astonished when you heard your uncle -was going to marry my Marian?"</p> - -<p>"No, dear Mrs. Ashurst. Though I'm not very old, I've lived too long to be -astonished at anything, and certainly that did not surprise me!"</p> - -<p>"It did me!" said Gertrude, for once venturing on an independent remark.</p> - -<p>"And why did it surprise you, Gerty?" asked the old lady, already smiling at -the quaint reply which she always expected from Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"Because I didn't think uncle was so silly!" Gertrude blurted out. "At least, -I don't mean that exactly; don't misunderstand me, dear Mrs. Ashurst, but I -never thought that uncle would marry again at all.--Such an idea never entered -our heads, did it, Maude?" But Maude declining to play chorus, Gertrude -continued: "And if I had thought of such a thing, I should always have set uncle -down as marrying some one more his own age, and--and that kind of thing!"</p> - -<p>"There is certainly a great disparity of years between them," said Mrs. -Ashurst, with a sigh. "I trust that won't work to the disadvantage of my poor -dear girl!"</p> - -<p>"I don't think you need fear that, dear old friend!" said Maude; and then -thinking that her tone of voice might have been hard, she laid her hand on the -old lady's shoulder, and added, "Miss Ash--I mean Mrs. Creswell, you know, is -wise beyond her years! She has already had the management of a large household, -which, as I understand, she conducted excellently; and even did she show a few -shortcomings, uncle is the last man to notice them!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my dear, I know; but I didn't mean that! I was selfishly thinking -whether Marian had done rightly in accepting a man so much older than herself. -She did it for my sake, poor child--she did it for my sake!" And the old lady -burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Don't cry, dear!" said Gertrude. "You are not to blame, I'm sure, whatever -has happened."</p> - -<p>"How can you make yourself so perfectly ridiculous, Gertrude?" said -strong-minded Maude. "No one is to blame about anything! And, my dear Mrs. -Ashurst, I don't think, if I were you, I should look upon your daughter's -present proceeding as such an act of self-sacrifice. Depend upon it she is very -well pleased at her new dignity and position." Maude knew that the Creswells -were only "new people," but she could not sit by and hear them patronised by a -schoolmaster's widow.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear, very likely," said the old lady meekly; "though she might -have been a baronet's lady if she had only chosen. I'm sure young Sir Joseph -Attride would have proposed to her, with a little more encouragement; and though -my poor husband always said he had pudding in his head instead of brains, that -wouldn't have been any just cause or impediment. You never heard about Sir -Joseph, Maude?"</p> - -<p>"No; Miss Ashurst never spoke to us of any of her conquests," said Maude, -with something of a sneer.</p> - -<p>"Well, ray dear, Marian was never one to say much, you know; but I'm sure she -might have done as well as any girl in the county, for the matter of that. There -was Sir Joseph, and young Mr. Peacock before he went up to live in London, and a -young German who was over here to learn English--Burckhardt his name was, and I -think his friends were counts, or something of that kind, in their own -country--oh, quite grand, I assure you!"</p> - -<p>"I wonder whether uncle knows of all these former rivals?" asked Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"No, my dear, of course he doesn't, and of course Marian would not be such a -goose as to tell him. I think I'll sleep for a bit now, dears; I'm tired."</p> - -<p>They kissed her, and left the room; but before the old lady had dropped off, -she said to herself, "I wasn't going to let them crow over me, or think that my -Marian couldn't have had her pick and choice of a husband, if she'd been so -minded."</p> - -<p>Maude and Gertrude were going towards the garden, after leaving Mrs. Ashurst; -they saw the postman quitting the door, and the servant came to them with a -letter, which she handed to Maude. That young lady opened and read it, but she -could scarcely have gone through a few lines, when a particularly stern -expression came over her face, her brows were knit, and her lips set tightly -together.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Maude?" asked Gertrude, looking on in wonder. "Who's the -letter from?"</p> - -<p>"From our new mistress," said the girl; "at least, I expect she intends we -should regard her as such--Mrs. Creswell. They are to be at home at the end of -next week, and my lady thinks she shall require what is now our music-room for -her boudoir. We can have the room at the end of the north passage. Can we, -indeed! How very considerate! And it's no use appealing to uncle! He daren't -help us, I know! What did I tell you, Gertrude? This woman won't rest until she -has crushed us into a state of mere dependence!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> -<h5>WEDNESDAY'S POST.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Lord Hetherington was a powerful man, who had great influence in most things, -but he could not get his letters delivered at Westhope before eleven o'clock. -Not that he had not tried. He had, as he expressed it, "put on all kinds of -screws," but he could not manage it, and if he had had to wait for the regular -delivery by the walking postman, it would have been much later. A groom, -however, always attended at the nearest post-town on the arrival of the London -mail, and rode over with the Westhope letter-bag, which was unlocked by the -butler, and its contents distributed. There was never much curiosity or anxiety -about letters exhibited at Westhope, at least, amongst the members of the -family. Of course young visitors had occasional faint flutterings of interest -about a certain portion of their correspondence, but they were too true to the -teachings of their order to allow any vulgar signs of excitement to be visible; -while the letters received by Lord and Lady Hetherington were too uniformly dull -to arouse the smallest spark of emotion in the breast of any one, no matter how -excitably inclined. Lady Caroline Mansergh's correspondence was of a different -kind. A clever woman herself, she was in the habit of writing to, and receiving -letters from, clever people; but they simply contained gossip and small-talk, -which might be read at any time, and which, while pleasant and amusing when -taken in due course, did not invite any special eagerness for its acquisition. -In a general way, Lady Caroline was quite content to have her letters brought to -her in whatever room she might happen to be, but on this Wednesday morning she -was seated at the window as the postbag-bearing groom came riding up the avenue, -and a few minutes afterwards she stepped out into the hall, where the butler had -the letters out on the table before him, and ran her eye over them.</p> - -<p>There it was, that plain, square letter, addressed to him in the firm, plain -hand, and bearing the Brocksopp postmark! There it was, his life-verdict, for -good or ill. Nothing to be judged of it by its appearance--firm, square, and -practical; no ridiculous tremors occasioned by hope or fear could have had -anything to do with such a sensible-looking document. What was in it? She would -have given anything to know! Not that she seemed to be in the least anxious -about it. She had asked where he was, and had been told that he was at work in -the library. He was so confident of what Miss Ashurst's answer would be, that he -awaited its arrival in the most perfect calmness. Would he be undeceived? Lady -Caroline thought not just yet. If the young woman were, as Lady Caroline -suspected, playing a double game, she would probably find some excuse for not at -once linking her lot with Walter Joyce's--her mother's ill-health seemed -expressly suited for the purpose--and would suggest that he should go out first -to Berlin, and see how he liked his new employment, returning later in the year, -when, if all things seemed convenient, they could be married. She was evidently -a clever girl, and these were probably the tactics she would pursue. Lady -Caroline wondered whether she was right in her conjecture, and there was the -letter, a glance at which would solve her doubts, lying before her! What a -ridiculous thing that people were not allowed to read each other's letters! Her -ladyship told the butler to see that that letter was sent at once to Mr. Joyce, -who was in the library expecting it.</p> - -<p>The Westhope household was eminently well drilled, and the footman who handed -the letter on the salver to Mr. Joyce was as respectful as though the secretary -were my lord himself. He had heard Lady Caroline's remark to the butler, and had -turned the missive over and scrutinised it as he carried it along the passages. -The handwriting of the address, though firm, was unmistakably feminine, and the -footman, a man of the world, coupling this fact with what he had heard, arrived -at the conclusion that the letter was from Mr. Joyce's "young woman." He walked -up to Joyce, who was busily engaged in writing, croaked out, "A letter, sir," in -the tone usually adopted by him to offer to dinner guests their choice between -hock and champagne, and watched the secretary's manner. Joyce took the letter -from the salver, muttered his thanks, and turned back to his work. The footman -bowed and left the room, with the idea, as he afterwards remarked to the butler, -that if his suppositions were correct, the secretary was not "a fellow of much -warmth of feelin'; looked at it and put it down by his arm as though it was a -bill, he did!"</p> - -<p>But when the door had shut behind the retreating figure of the Mercury in -plush, Walter Joyce threw down his pen and took up the letter, and pressed it to -his lips. Then he opened it, not eagerly indeed, but with a bright light in his -eyes, and a happy smile upon his lips. And then he read it.</p> - -<p>He started at the first line, astonished at the cold tone in which Marian -addressed him, but after that he read the letter straight through, without -evincing any outward sign of emotion. When he had finished it he paused, and -shook his head quickly, as one who has received some stunning blow, and passed -his hand rapidly across his brow, then set to work to read the letter again. He -had been through it hurriedly before, but this time he read every word, then he -pushed the paper from him, and flung himself forward on the desk, burying his -face in his hands. Thus he remained during some ten minutes; when he raised -himself, his face was very white save round the eyes, where the skin was flushed -and strained, and his hands trembled very much. He reeled, too, a little when he -first stood up, but he soon conquered that, and began silently pacing the room -to and fro. Some time afterwards, when asked to explain what he had felt at that -crisis in his life, Joyce declared he could not tell. Not anger against Marian, -certainly, no vindictive rage against her who had treated him so basely. His -life was spoiled, he felt that; it had never been very brilliant, or very much -worth having, but the one ray which had illumined it had been suddenly -extinguished, and the future was in utter darkness. He was in the condition of a -man who has been stunned, or has fainted, and to whom the recollection of the -events immediately engrossing his attention when, as it were, he was last in -life, came but slowly. He had but a confused idea of the contents of Marian's -letter. Its general tenor of course he knew, but he had to think over the -details. The letter was there, lying before him on the desk where he had thrown -it, but he seemed to have an odd but invincible repugnance to reading it again. -After a somewhat laborious process of thought he remembered it all. She was -going to be married to Mr. Creswell--that was it. She could not face a life of -poverty, she said; the comforts and luxuries which she had enjoyed for the last -few months had become necessary to her happiness, and she had chosen between him -and them. She did not pretend to care for the man she was about to marry; she -merely intended to make use of him as the means to an end. Poor Marian! that was -a bad state for her to be in--poor Marian! She had jilted him, but she had -sacrificed herself: he did not know which was the more forlorn out-look.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was all over for him! Nothing mattered much now! Copy out anecdotes -from the family chronicles, hunt up antiquities and statistics for those -speeches with which Lord Hetherington intended to astonish the world in the -forthcoming session, settle down as librarian and secretary for as long as this -noble family would have him, and when they kicked him out, live by literary hack -work until he found another noble family ready to receive him in the old -capacity for a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Why not? He smiled grimly to -himself as he thought of the Berlin proposition, and how astonished old Byrne -would be when he wrote to decline it--for he should decline it at once. He had -thought about it so often and so much, he had allowed his imagination to feast -him with such pictures of himself established there with Marian by his side, -that he felt utterly unable to face the dark blank reality, heartbroken and -alone. Besides, what motive had he for work now? Experience had taught him that -he could always find sufficient press-work in London to keep body and soul -together, and what more did he want! What more did---- Was it all real, or was -he dreaming? Marian! was it all over between him and her? was she no longer his -Marian? was he never to see her, to touch her hand, to hold her in his arms, to -live in the light of those loving eyes again? He thought of their last -conversation and their parting, he thought of his last letter to her, so full of -hope and love; so tender of the past, so full of the future; and there, to that, -was the reply lying before him announcing her marriage. Her marriage?--her sale! -She had bartered herself away for fine houses, horses, carriages, dresses; she, -daughter of James Ashurst, who had loved her as the apple of his eye, and would -as soon have thought of her renouncing her religion as of her breaking her -plighted word.</p> - -<p>It was odd he could not explain it; but his thoughts ran more upon her than -upon himself. He found himself picturing her as the squire's lady, taking up her -position in society, seated at the head of her table, receiving her guests, at -church in the pew which he recollected so well. He recollected the back of her -head, and the kneeling figure as he had noticed it Sunday after Sunday when he -sat amongst the boys in the school pew immediately behind her, recollected the -little grave bow she would give him as she passed to her seat, and the warm -hand-pressure with which she always met him after morning service. His love had -lived on that warm hand-pressure for days; hers, it seems, was not so easily -nourished. He wondered at himself for the way in which he found himself thinking -of her. Had the mere notion of such treatment ever entered his mind, he should -have been raving; now when the actual fact had occurred, he was quiet. He ran -through the whole matter in his mind again, pointed out to himself the deception -that she had practised on him, the gross breach of faith of which she had been -guilty, showed himself plainly how her desertion of him had sprung from the -basest motives, not from lack of love for him, not from overweening fancy for -another--those were human motives and might be pardoned her--but from mere -avarice and mammon-worship. And, after cogitating over all this, he felt that he -pitied rather than hated her, and that as to himself he had not the remotest -care what became of him.</p> - -<p>A knock at the door, and before he could answer Lady Caroline had entered the -room. Joyce was rather pleased than otherwise at the interruption. He had taken -her ladyship so far into his confidence that it was impossible to hide from her -this last act in the drama, and it was infinitely pleasanter that the -explanation should come about here--accidentally, as it were--than that he -should have to seek her with his story.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Mr. Joyce."</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Lady Caroline."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Joyce, a triumphal procession, consisting of Lady Hetherington and the -new housekeeper, is marching round the house, settling what's to be done in each -room between this and the autumn. I confess I have not sufficient strength of -mind to be present at those solemn rites, and as this is the only room in the -house in which no change ever takes place--save the increase of dust, and lately -the acquisition of a <i>bonâ-fide</i> student--I have taken refuge here, and -have brought the <i>Times</i> in order that I may be sure not to disturb you by -chattering."</p> - -<p>"You will not disturb me in the least, I assure you."</p> - -<p>"Why, what a dreadfully hollow voice! and--Mr. Joyce," continued Lady -Caroline, changing her tone, "how very unwell you look--so strangely pale and -drawn! Is anything the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, nothing in the least!" he replied. "You have been good enough to -let me talk to you about myself and my hopes and aspirations, Lady Caroline -Mansergh. You have probably forgotten"--ah, man, devoid of the merest accidence -of worldly grammar!--"you have probably forgotten that this is the morning on -which I was to expect my answer from Miss Ashurst. It has come! It is here!" and -he stooped forward, picked from the table the letter, and handed it to her.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline seemed rather surprised at this mode of proceeding. She took -the letter from Walter's hand, but held it unopened before her, and said--</p> - -<p>"You wish me to read it?"</p> - -<p>"If you please," he replied. "There is no other way by which you could -exactly comprehend the situation, and I wish you to be made aware of -it--and--and to advise me in it."</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline blushed slightly as she heard these last words, but she said -nothing--merely bowed and opened the letter. As she read it, the flush which had -died away returned more brightly than before, her eyes could not be seen under -their downcast lids, but the brows were knit, the nostrils trembled, and the -mouth grew hard and rigid. She read the letter through twice; then she looked -up, and her voice shook as she said--</p> - -<p>"That is a wicked and base letter, very heartless and very base!"</p> - -<p>"Lady Caroline!" interrupted Joyce appealingly.</p> - -<p>"What! do you seek to defend it?--no, not to defend it, for in your own heart -you must know I am right in my condemnation of it, but to plead for it. You -don't like to hear me speak harshly of it--that's so like a man I tell you that -it is a heartless and an unwomanly letter! 'Deepens the pain with which she -writes,' indeed! 'Deepens the pain!' and what about yours? It is her nature to -love money and comforts, and luxuries, and to shrink from privations. Her -nature! What was she bred to, this duchess?"</p> - -<p>In his misery at hearing Marian thus spoken of, since the blow had fallen -upon him he had never been so miserable as then, when she was attacked, and he -saw the impossibility of defending her. Joyce could not help remarking that he -had never noticed Lady Caroline's beauty so much as at that moment, when her -eyes were flashing and her ripe lips curling with contempt. But he was silent, -and she proceeded--</p> - -<p>"She says you are better without her, and, though of course you doubt it, I -am mightily disposed to agree with her! I--Mr. Joyce!" said her ladyship, -suddenly softening her tone, "believe me, I feel earnestly and deeply for you -under this blow! I fear it is none the less severe because you don't show how -much you suffer. This--this young lady's decision will of course materially -affect the future which you had plotted out for yourself, and of which we spoke -the last time we were here together?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, of course. Now I shall--by the way, Lady Caroline, I recollect -now--it scarcely impressed me then--that during that conversation you seemed to -have some doubts as to what Marian--as to what might be the reply to the letter -which I told you I had written?"</p> - -<p>"I certainly had."</p> - -<p>"And you endeavoured to wean me from the miserable self-conceit under which I -was labouring, and failed. I recollect your hints now. Tell me, Lady Caroline, -why was I so blind? What made you suspect?"</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Joyce, you were blind because you were in love! I suspected -because, being merely a looker-on--an interested one, I acknowledge, for I had a -great interest in your welfare, but still merely a looker-on, and therefore, -according to the old proverb, seeing most of the game--I could not help noticing -that the peculiar position of affairs, and the length of time you remained -without any news of your <i>fiancée</i> afforded grave grounds of suspicion."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said poor Walter; "as you say, I am blind. I never noticed that."</p> - -<p>"Now, Mr. Joyce," said Lady Caroline, "the question is not with the past, but -with the future. What do you intend doing?"</p> - -<p>"I have scarcely thought. It matters very little."</p> - -<p>"Pardon my saying that it matters very much. Do you think of taking up this -appointment for the newspaper that you spoke of--this correspondentship in -Berlin?"</p> - -<p>"No; I think not. I really don't know--I thought of remaining as I am."</p> - -<p>"What! pass the rest of your life in writing Lord Hetherington's letters, and -cramming him for speeches which he will never deliver?"</p> - -<p>"It is an honest and an easy way of earning a living, at all events."</p> - -<p>"Of earning a living? And are you going to content yourself with 'earning -your living,' Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lady Caroline, why should I do anything else? The desire for making -money has gone from me altogether with the receipt and perusal of that letter. -She was the spur that urged me on; my dreams of fame and wealth and position -were for her, not for myself; and now----"</p> - -<p>"And now you are going to abandon it all--do you mean to tell me that? That -you, a young man possessing intellect, and energy, and industry, with a career -before you, are about to abandon that career, and to condemn yourself to -vegetation--sheer and simple vegetation, mind, not life--merely because you have -been grossly deceived by a woman, who, your common sense ought to have told you, -has been playing you false for months, and who, as she herself confesses, has -all her life rated the worthiness of people as to what they were worth in money? -You are clearly not in your right mind, Mr. Joyce. I am surprised at you!"</p> - -<p>"What would you have me do, Lady Caroline? You sneer at the notion of my -remaining with Lord Hetherington. Surely you would not have me go to Berlin?"</p> - -<p>"I never sneer at anything, my dear Mr. Joyce; sneering shows very bad -breeding. I say distinctly that I think you would be mad to fritter away your -days in your present position. Nor do I think, under circumstances, you ought to -go to Berlin. It would have done very well as a stepping-stone had things turned -out differently; but now you would be always drawing odious comparisons between -your solitary lot and the 'what might have been,' as Owen Meredith so sweetly -puts it."</p> - -<p>"Where, then, shall I go?"</p> - -<p>"To London. Where else should any one go with a desire to make a mark in the -world, and energy and determination to aid him in accomplishing his purpose? And -this is your case. Ah, you may shake your head, but I tell you it is. You think -differently just now, but when once you are there, 'in among the throngs of -men,' you will acknowledge it. Why, when you were there, at the outset of your -career, utterly friendless and alone, as you have told me, you found friends and -work; and now that you are known, and by a certain few appreciated, do you think -it will be otherwise?"</p> - -<p>"You are marvellously inspiriting, Lady Caroline, and I can never be -sufficiently grateful for the advice you have given me--better still, for the -manner in which you have given it. But suppose I do go to London, what--in the -cant phrase of the day--what am I to 'go in for'?"</p> - -<p>"Newspaper-writing--what do they call it?--journalism, at first; the -profession in which you were doing so well when you came here. That, if I -mistake not, will in due course lead to something else, about which we will talk -at some future time."</p> - -<p>"That is just what I was coming to, Lady Caroline. You will allow me to see -you sometimes?"</p> - -<p>"I shall be always deeply interested in your welfare, Mr. Joyce, and anxious -to know how you progress. Oh yes; I hope both to see and hear a great deal of -you. Besides, Lord Hetherington may feel inclined to take up the chronicles -again; he is rather off them just now, I know; and then you can give your -successor some very valuable hints."</p> - -<p>When Lady Caroline Mansergh was alone in her own room after this -conversation, she reflected long and deeply upon the effect which the receipt of -that letter would probably produce upon Walter Joyce, and was sufficiently -interested to analyse her own feelings in regard to it. Was she sorry or glad -that the intended match had been broken off, and that Joyce was now, so far as -his heart was concerned, a free man? That he was free she was certain; that he -would never return to the old allegiance she was positive. Lady Caroline in her -worldly experience had frequently come across cases of the kind, where the -tender regret which at first forbade any harsh mention, scarcely any harsh -thought of the false one, had in a very short time given place to a feeling of -mortified vanity and baffled desire, which prompted the frankest outpourings, -and made itself heard in the bitterest objurgations. The question was, how it -affected her. On the whole, she thought that she was pleased at the result. She -did not attempt to hide from herself that she had a certain regard for this -young man, though of the nature of that regard she had scarcely troubled herself -to inquire. One thing she knew, that it was very different from what she had at -first intended it should be, from what in the early days of their acquaintance -she had allowed it to be. Of course, with such a man, flirtation, in its -ordinary sense, was out of the question; she would as soon have thought of -flirting with the Great Pyramid as with Walter Joyce. In its place there had -existed a kind of friendly interest; but Lady Caroline was fully cognisant that, -on her side, that friendly interest had been deepening and strengthening, until, -after a little self-examination, she felt forced to confess to herself that it -would bear another name. Then came the question, And if it did, what matter? She -had never particularly set herself up as a strict observant of the -conventionalities or the fetish worship of society; on the contrary, her conduct -in that respect had been rather iconoclastic. There need be no surprise, -therefore, on the part of the world if she chose to marry out of what was -supposed to be her "set" and station in society; and if there had been, she was -quite strong-minded enough to laugh at it. But to a woman of Lady Caroline's -refinement it was necessary that her husband should be a gentleman, and it was -necessary for her pride that, if not her equal in rank, he should not merely be -her superior in talent, but should be admitted to be so. Under the fresh -disposition of circumstances she saw no reason why this should not be. Walter -Joyce would go to London, would there resume his newspaper occupations, and -would probably, as she guessed from occasional hints he had recently let fall, -turn his attention more to politics than he had hitherto done. He must be -clever, she thought. She knew him to be clever, in a woman's notion of -cleverness, which was so different to a man's; but he must surely be clever in a -man's way too, or they would never have offered him this Berlin appointment, -which, according to her notions, required not merely a bright literary style, -but, in a far greater degree, the faculty of observation and knowledge of the -world. His experience had been very small, but his natural ability and natural -keenness must be great. Granted his possession of these gifts, pushed as he -would be by her influence--for she intended to give him some excellent -introductions--there was little doubt of his success in life, and of his -speedily achieving a position which would warrant her in accepting him. In -accepting him? Lady Caroline laughed outright, rather a hard bitter laugh, as -this idea crossed her mind, at the remembrance that Walter Joyce had never said -the slightest word, or shown the smallest sign, that he cared for her as--as she -wished to be cared for by him, much less that he ever aspired to her hand. -However, let that pass! What was to be, would be, and there was plenty of time -to think of such things. Meanwhile, it was decidedly satisfactory that the -engagement was broken off between him and that girl, whom Lady Caroline had been -accustomed to regard as a simple country wench, a bread-and-butter miss, but who -certainly had done her jilting with a coolness and <i>aplomb</i> worthy of a -London beauty in her third season. She would have been a drag on Walter's life; -for, although ambitious to a degree, and always wanting to rise beyond her -sphere, she would have induced him to persevere at his work, and have encouraged -him to great efforts; yet, according to Lady Caroline's idea, fame could not be -achieved when a man was surrounded by babies requiring to be fed, and other -domestic drawbacks, and had not merely himself but a large family to drag up the -hill of difficulty, ere eminence was attained. Now Walter would be really free, -even from mental ties, Lady Caroline thought, with a half sigh, and if he were -ever to do anything worthy of himself, the beginning at least should be now.</p> - -<p>The conversation with Lady Caroline Mansergh had not merely the effect of -diverting Walter Joyce's thoughts from the contemplation of his own unhappiness -for the time being, but rousing within him certain aspirations which he had -scarcely ever previously entertained, and which, when they had occasionally -arisen in his mind, he had successfully endeavoured to stifle and ignore. No -doubt the advice which Lady Caroline had given him was most excellent, and -should be followed. There was a future before him, and a brilliant one! He would -prove to Marian (already his feelings towards her were beginning to change)--he -would prove to Marian that his life was not made utterly blank on account of her -cruel treatment; on the contrary, he would try and achieve some end and -position, such as he would never have aspired to if he had remained in the calm -jog-trot road of life he had planned for himself. He would go to London, to old -Byrne, and see whether instead of being sent to Berlin he could not be received -on the staff of the paper in London; and he would turn his attention to -politics--old Byrne would be of immense use to him there--and he would study and -work night and day. Anything to get on, anything to become distinguished, to -make a name!</p> - -<p>His decision once taken, Joyce lost no time in communicating it to Lord -Hetherington. He said that circumstances of great family importance necessitated -his immediate return to London, and would require all the attention he could -bestow on them for many months to come. Lord Hetherington was a little taken -aback by the suddenness of the announcement, but as he had always had a kindly -feeling towards Joyce, and since the day of the ice-accident he had regarded him -with especial favour, he put the best face he could on the occasion, and -expressed his great regret at his secretary's intended departure. His lordship -begged that when Mr. Joyce had any leisure time at his disposal he would call -upon him at Hetherington House, where they would be always glad to see him; and -Joyce trusted that if ever his lordship thought that he (Joyce) could be useful -to him in any way, more especially as connected with the chronicles, with which -he was so familiar, he would do him the honour to send for him, through Mr. -Byrne, who would always know his address. And thus they parted, after the -interview, with mutual expressions of goodwill.</p> - -<p>This was a little excitement for Lord Hetherington, who at once started off, -so soon as Joyce had left him, to tell her ladyship the news.</p> - -<p>Lady Hetherington was far more interested in the fact that the secretary had -given warning, as she persisted in calling it, than her husband had anticipated. -She had always, except when temporarily aroused on the occasion of the accident, -been so determined to ignore Mr. Joyce's existence, or had treated him with such -marked coldness when compelled to acknowledge it, that his lordship was quite -astonished to see how interested she showed herself, how she persisted in -cross-questioning him as to what Joyce had stated to be the cause of his -leaving, and as to whether he had mentioned it to any other person in the house. -On being assured by her husband that he had come straight to her boudoir after -parting with the secretary, Lady Hetherington seemed pleased, and strictly -enjoined the little lord not to mention it to any one.</p> - -<p>They were a very small party at dinner that day, only Mr. Biscoe being -present in addition to the members of the family. The conversation was not very -brisk, the countess being full of the coming London season, a topic on which Mr. -Biscoe, who hated town, and never went near it when he could help it, could -scarcely expect to be enthusiastic, Lord Hetherington being always silent, and -Lady Caroline on this occasion preoccupied. But when the cloth was removed, and -the servants had left the room, Lady Hetherington, in the interval of playing -with a few grapes, looked across at her sister-in-law, and said--</p> - -<p>"By the way, Caroline, Lord Hetherington's secretary has given warning!"</p> - -<p>"You mean that Mr. Joyce is going away, is that it? I thought so, but you -have such a curious way of putting things, Margaret!"</p> - -<p>"How should I have put it? I meant exactly what I said!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course, if you choose to import the phraseology of the servants'-hall -into your conversation, you are at perfect liberty to do so."</p> - -<p>"Anyhow, the fact remains the same. We are to be bereaved of the great -secretary! Weren't you astonished when I told you?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world!"</p> - -<p>"Because you had heard it before?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly!"</p> - -<p>"From Lord Hetherington?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no!" laughed Lady Caroline; "don't scold poor dear West on the idea that -he had anticipated you! I heard it from Mr. Joyce himself."</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course you did!" said Lady Hetherington, slightly tossing her head. -"Well, of course you're very much grieved. He was such a favourite of yours."</p> - -<p>"Just because I like Mr. Joyce very much, or, as you phrase it, because he is -a favourite of mine, I'm very pleased to think that he's going away. A man of -his abilities is lost in his present position."</p> - -<p>"I quite agree with you, Lady Caroline," said Mr. Biscoe. "Sound scholar, Mr. -Joyce, clear head, well grounded, and quick at picking up--good fellow, too!"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure," said Lord Hetherington, "I've grown so accustomed to him, I shall -feel like--what's-his-name--fish out of water without him."</p> - -<p>"I dare say we shall manage to exist when Mr. Joyce has left us," said the -countess; "we scrambled on somehow before, and I really don't see the enormous -improvement since he came."</p> - -<p>Nobody commented on this, and the conversation dropped. Lady Hetherington was -cross and disappointed. She expected to have found her sister-in-law very much -annoyed at the fact of Mr. Joyce's departure, whereas, in place of visible grief -or annoyance, there was a certain air of satisfaction about Lady Caroline which -was dreadfully annoying to the countess.</p> - -<p>Two days after, Joyce left for London, Marian's letter, on Lady Caroline's -advice, and in accordance with his own feelings, remaining without notice.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> -<h5>POOR PAPA'S SUCCESSOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It has been seen that Mr. Creswell's marriage with Marian Ashurst was -sufficiently popular amongst the farmer class at Helmingham, but it was by no -means so warmly received in other grades of society. Up at the Park, for -instance, the people could scarcely restrain their indignation. Sir Thomas -Churchill had always been accustomed to speak of "my neighbour, Mr. Creswell," -as a "highly respectable man, sprung, as he himself does not scruple to own, -from the people," chirrupped the old Sir Thomas, whose great-grandfather had -been a tanner in Brocksopp,--"but eminently sound in all his views, and a credit -to the--ahem!--commercial classes of the community." They sat together on the -magistrates' bench, met on committees of charitable associations, and suchlike, -and twice a year solemnly had each other to dinner to meet a certain number of -other county people on nights when there was a moon, or, at least, when the -calendar showed that there ought to have been one. In the same spirit old Lady -Churchill, kindliest of silly old women, had been in the habit of pitying Marian -Ashurst. "That charmin' girl, so modest and quiet; none of your fly-away -nonsense about her, and clever, ain't she? I don't know about these things -myself, but they tell me so; and to have to go into lodgin's, and all that! -father a clergyman of the Church of England too!"--staunch old lady, never -moving about without the Honourable Miss Grimstone's Church-service, in two -volumes, in her trunk--"it really does seem too bad!" But when the news of the -forthcoming marriage began to be buzzed about, and penetrated to the Park, Sir -Thomas did not scruple to stigmatise his neighbour as an old fool, while my lady -had no better opinion of Miss Ashurst than that she was a "forward minx." What -could have so disturbed these exemplary people? Not, surely, the low passions of -envy and jealousy? Sir Thomas Churchill, a notorious <i>roué</i> in his day, who -had married the plainest-headed woman in the county for her money, all the -available capital of which he had spent, could not possibly be envious of the -fresh young bride whom his old acquaintance was bringing home? And Lady -Churchill, to whom the village gossips talked incessantly of the intended -redecoration of Woolgreaves, the equipages and horses which were ordered, the -establishment which was about to be kept up, the position in parliament which -was to be fought for, and, above all, the worship with which the elderly -bridegroom regarded the juvenile bride-elect--these rumours did not influence -her in the bitter depreciation with which she henceforth spoke of the late -schoolmaster's daughter? Of course not! The utterances of the baronet and his -lady were prompted by a deep regard to the welfare of both parties, and a -wholesome regret that they had been prompted to take a step which could not be -for the future happiness of either, of course.</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall, who, it will be recollected, had succeeded the late Mr. Ashurst -at the Helmingham school, and was comparatively new to the neighbourhood, took -but little interest in the matter, so far as Miss Ashurst was concerned. He had -a bowing acquaintance with her, but he had neither had the wish nor the -opportunity of getting on more familiar terms. Had she married any one else but -Mr. Creswell, it would not have mattered one jot to the Rev. George Benthall; -but, as it happened, Mr. Benthall had a certain amount of interest in the doings -of the household at Woolgreaves, and the marriage of the chief of that household -promised to be an important event in Mr. Benthall's life.</p> - -<p>You could scarcely have found a greater difference between any two men than -between James Ashurst and his successor. When James Ashurst received his -appointment as head-master at Helmingham, he looked upon that appointment as the -culmination of his career. Mr. Benthall regarded the head-mastership as merely a -steppingstone to something better. Mr. Ashurst threw his whole soul into his -work. Mr. Benthall was content to get people to think that he was very -hard-working and very much interested in his duties, whereas he really cared -nothing about them, and slipped through them in the most dilettante fashion. He -did not like work; he never had liked it. At Oxford he had taken no honours, -made no name, and when he was nominated to Helmingham, every one wondered at the -selection except those who happened to know that the fortunate man was godson to -one of the two peers who were life-governors of the school. Mr. Benthall found -the Helmingham school in excellent order. The number of scholars never had been -so large, the social status of the class which furnished them was undeniably -good, the discipline had been brought to perfection, and the school had an -excellent name in the county. It had taken James Ashurst years to effect this, -but once achieved, there was no necessity for any further striving. Mr. Benthall -was a keen man of the world, he found the machine in full swing, he calculated -that the impetus which had been given to it would keep it in full swing for two -or three years, without the necessity for the smallest exertion on his part, and -during these two or three years he would occupy himself in looking out for -something better. What that something better was to be he had not definitely -determined. Not another head-mastership, he had made up his mind on that point; -he never had been particularly partial to boys, and now he hated them. He did -not like parochial duty, he did not like anything that gave him any trouble. He -did like croquet-playing and parsonical flirtation, cricket and horse exercise. -He liked money, and all that money brings; and, after every consideration, he -thought the best and easiest plan to acquire it would be to marry an heiress.</p> - -<p>But there were no heiresses in those parts, and very few marriageable girls. -Mr. Benthall had met the two young ladies from Woolgreaves at several -garden-parties, and had conceived a special admiration for Gertrude Creswell. -Maude was far too grand, and romantic, and self-willed for his taste, but there -was something in Gertrude's fresh face and quaint simple manner that was -particularly pleasing to him. But after making careful inquiries, Mr. Benthall -discovered that Miss Gertrude Creswell's chance of wealth was but small, she -being entirely dependent on her uncle, whose affections were known to be -entirely concentrated on his son. She might have a few hundred pounds perhaps, -but a few hundred pounds would not be sufficient to enable Mr. Benthall to give -up the school, and to live idle for the rest of his life. The notion must be -given up, he feared. He was very sorry for it, for he really liked the girl very -much, and he thought she liked him. It was a bore, a nuisance, but the other -thing was impossible!</p> - -<p>Then came Tom Creswell's death, and that gave affairs another aspect. There -was no son now to inherit all the accumulated wealth. There were only the two -nieces, between whom the bulk of the property would doubtless be divided. That -was a much more healthy outlook for Mr. Benthall. If matters eventuated as he -imagined, Miss Gertrude would not merely have a sufficiency, but would be an -heiress, and under this expectation Mr. Benthall, who had not seen much of the -young ladies of Woolgreaves for some time, now took every opportunity of -throwing himself in their way. These opportunities were tolerably frequent, and -Mr. Benthall availed himself of them with such skill and success, that he had -finally made up his mind to propose for Gertrude Creswell's hand, with the -almost certainty of acceptance, when the news came down to the village that Mr. -Creswell was going to be married to Marian Ashurst. That was a tremendous blow! -From what Mr. Benthall had heard about Miss Ashurst's character in the village, -there was little doubt in his mind that she had deliberately planned this -marriage with a view to the acquisition of fortune and position, and there was -no doubt that she would hold to both. The chance of any inheritance for the -girls was even worse than it would have been if Tom had lived. In that case a -sense of justice would have impelled the old gentleman to do something for his -nieces, but now he would be entirely under the sway of this money-loving woman, -who would take care to keep everything to herself. It was a confounded nuisance, -for in regard to Gertrude Creswell Mr. Benthall had progressed considerably -beyond the "liking" stage, and was really very much attached to her. What could -be done? It would be impossible for him to marry a portionless girl. It would be -utterly useless for him to ask her uncle to endow her, as Mr. Creswell would at -once refer the question to his new wife, who--as he, Mr. Benthall, happened to -know from one or two little scenes at which he had been present, and one or two -little circumstances of which he had heard--was by no means lovingly inclined -towards the young ladies who had become her step-nieces. It was horribly -provoking, but Mr. Benthall could not see his way at all.</p> - -<p>One evening, some two or three days after Mr. Creswell's marriage, Mr. -Benthall was sitting in his study, when there came a knock at the door, and a -smart housemaid entering told him that Mrs. Covey had come back, and would be -glad to see her master. Mrs. Covey was an old woman who for many years had lived -as cook with the Ashursts, and who, on their recommendation, had been accepted -in a similar capacity by Mr. Benthall, on his assumption of office. But the old -lady had been away from her work for some few weeks with a sharp attack of -illness, which rendered her unfit for her duties, and she had been staying with -a married daughter some miles on the other side of Brocksopp. A few days -previously she had reported herself as cured, and as about to return to her -place, and in due time she arrived at the schoolhouse. Mr. Benthall was glad to -hear of the old woman's safe return; not that he cared in the least about her, -or any other old woman, but she understood the place, and did her duty well, and -some of the boarders had given decided evidence of the unpopularity of Mrs. -Covey's <i>locum tenens</i> by leaving their dinners untouched, and making their -meals in furtive snatches from their lockers during school-hours of provisions -purchased at the "tuck-shop." This sort of mutiny annoyed Mr. Benthall -considerably, and consequently he was very glad to have the news of Mrs. Covey's -recovery, and gave orders that she should be sent up to him at once.</p> - -<p>Whatever might have been the nature of Mrs. Covey's illness, it certainly had -not had the effect of toning down her complexion. She was a singularly red-faced -old lady, looking as if constant exposure to large fires had sent the blood to -her cheeks and kept it there, and she wore a very fierce little black front, -with two screwy little curls just in front of either ear, and in honour of her -return and of her presentation to her master, she had put on a gigantic -structure of net and ribbon which did duty for a cap. She seemed greatly pleased -at the notice which Mr. Benthall took of her, and at the interest he seemed to -show in her recovery, but nothing would induce her to be seated in his presence, -though he repeatedly urged the advisability of her resting herself after her -journey. Finding her obdurate in this matter, Mr. Benthall let the old lady have -her way, and after he had chatted with her about her illness, and about her -family, he thought he had exhausted the topics of interest between them, and -inwardly wished she would go. But as she evinced no intention of stirring, he -was obliged to cast about for something to say, and oddly enough hit upon a -subject, the discussion of which with this old woman was destined to have a -certain amount of influence on his future life.</p> - -<p>"Well, we've had wonderful changes here in Helmingham since you've been away, -Mrs. Covey," he remarked.</p> - -<p>"Ah! so I did heer, sir!" said the old woman. "Poor old Muster Pickering gone -to his feaythers, and Mrs. Slater's bad leg brokken out again, and not likely to -heal this time, Anne told me Dr. Osborne says."</p> - -<p>"Ay, ay, but I'm not talking about old Pickering or Mrs. Slater. I mean the -wedding--the great wedding!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, well, I've heerd nowt o' that," said Mrs. Covey; adding in a grumbling -undertone, "I'm a stupid owd woman, and they tell me nowt."</p> - -<p>"Not heard of it? Well, I wonder at that," said Mr. Benthall, "more -especially as it concerns your young mistress that was--Miss Ashurst, I mean!"</p> - -<p>"What, is she married at last?" asked the old woman.</p> - -<p>"She is indeed, and to Mr. Creswell--Squire Creswell of Woolgreaves---"</p> - -<p>"What!" screamed Mrs. Covey, falling backward into the chair, which was -fortunately close behind her. "You don't tell me that!"</p> - -<p>"I do indeed! When was it?--last Thursday. The--the happy couple" (and Mr. -Benthall gave a cynical grin as he said the words)--"the happy couple are away -now on their wedding-trip."</p> - -<p>"Well, I niver did! I niver did! The old squire to come and marry Miss -Marian! He that was allays so mumchance and so meek, and had a sweet tooth in 's -head after all I thowt it was to talk wi' the poor old master about book-larnin' -and such stuff that he comed here! I'd niver an idee that he'd an eye for the -young gell."</p> - -<p>"Only shows how sly these old gentlemen can be when they choose, Mrs. Covey," -said Mr. Benthall, much amused, "if they can deceive such sharp eyes as yours."</p> - -<p>"Dear heart, I've no cause to call mine sharp eyes any longer, I think," said -the old woman, shaking her head, "for I was took in by both on 'em. I niver -thowt Miss Marian would throw t'other one over, that I niver did."</p> - -<p>"What's that you're saying, Mrs. Covey?" asked Mr. Benthall, sharply.</p> - -<p>"I was sayin' that I allays thowt Miss Marian would howld by the t'other one, -and----"</p> - -<p>"Other one? What other one? I never heard of there being any 'other one,' as -you call it, in regard to Miss Ashurst."</p> - -<p>"No! You didn't, I dare say! Nor didn't not no one else!" said the old lady, -with a frightful redundancy of negatives; "but <i>I</i> did."</p> - -<p>"And who was this 'other one,' if one may ask, Mrs. Covey?"</p> - -<p>"One may ask, and there's only one can answer, and that one's me. Ah, well, -there's no harm in tellin', now that she's married, and all that, though I niver -opened my mouth about it before to livin' soul, hopin' it would come all right -like. Miss Marian were keepin' company wi' young Joyce!"</p> - -<p>"Joyce! Joyce!" repeated Mr. Benthall. "What, young Mr. Joyce, who was one of -Mr. Ashurst's masters here?"</p> - -<p>"That very same! ay, and he were Miss Ashurst's master, he were, at the time -I'm speakin' of!" said the old woman.</p> - -<p>"Too much kitchen-fire has brought on softening of this old person's brain!" -said Mr. Benthall to himself. "There can't be a shadow of foundation for what -she says, or I should surely have heard of it in the village!" Then aloud, "What -makes you think this, Mrs. Covey?"</p> - -<p>"What meks me think it? Why, my own eyesight meks me think it, and that's the -best think I can have i' the matter," replied the old woman, waxing rather cross -at her master's evident incredulity. "Nobody niver spoke of it, becos' nobody -knowed it; but I've sat at the kitchen-window o' summer nights and seen 'em -walkin' roun' the garden for hours thegither, hand in hand, or him wi' his arms -round her waist, and I know what that means, tho' I may be an old fool!"</p> - -<p>"No, no, Mrs. Covey, no one ever thought that for a minute," said Mr. -Benthall, anxious to soothe the old woman's offended dignity, and really very -much interested in the news she had given him. "No doubt you're quite correct, -only, as I had never heard a hint of this before, I was rather startled at the -suddenness of the announcement, Tell me now, had Mr. Ashurst any notion of what -was going on?"</p> - -<p>"Wasn't the schoolmaster, poor feckless critter, allays buzzed in th' heed -wi' book-larnin' and troubles o' all sorts? No bittle as iver flew war blinder, -nor deafer, than my poor owd master in matters what didn't concern him!"</p> - -<p>"Nor Mrs. Ashurst?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, the poor sickly thing, wi' pains here and aches there, and so dillicate, -and niver 'nuff strength to look after what she ought, let alone anything else! -No! they kept it to themselves, the young pipple, and nobody knowed nowt about -it but me, and they didn't know as I knew, for the kitchen-window, as you know, -is hid wi' fuzz and creepers, and you can see out wi'out bein' seen! Lor, lor, -and so she's gone and married that owd man! And t'other one's gone for a sojer, -they say, and all that story, as I used to sit i' the kitchen and make up in my -head, will niver be! Lor, lor, what a world it is!"</p> - -<p> -Mr. Benthall was very much surprised at the information which had come to him in -that odd way. He had never thought much about Marian Ashurst, but he knew -perfectly well that popular opinion in Helmingham and the neighbourhood held to -the fact that she had never had any love affair. He was disposed to regard her -with rather more favour than before, for if what Mrs. Covey stated of her were -true, it showed that at one time she must have possessed a heart, though she had -allowed herself to ignore its promptings under the overweening influence of -avarice. Mr. Benthall thought a good deal over this story. He wondered when, -how, and under what circumstances Miss Ashurst had broken her engagement, if -such engagement existed, with Joyce. Whether she had deliberately planned her -marriage with old Creswell, and had consequently abandoned the other design; or -whether the old gentleman had proposed suddenly to her, and the temptation of -riches and position being too great for her to withstand, she had flung her -first lover aside on the spur of the moment, and thereby, perhaps, rendered -herself wretched for life. Or what was it that the old woman said, about Joyce -enlisting as a soldier? Perhaps that step on her lover's part had been the cause -of Miss Ashurst's determination. No! on reflection, the enlisting, if he ever -did enlist, looked like a desperate act on Joyce's part, done in despair at -hearing the news of Marian's intended marriage! Mr. Benthall did not pin much -faith to the enlisting part of the story. He had heard a good deal about Joyce -from various sources, and he felt confident that he was by no means the kind of -man who would be led to the perpetration of any folly of the kind. Mr. Benthall -was puzzled. With any other two people he could have understood the hand in -hand, and the arm-encircled waist, as meaning nothing more than a pleasant means -of employing the time, meaning nothing, and to be forgotten by both persons when -they might chance to be separated. But Mr. Joyce and Miss Ashurst were so -essentially earnest and practical, and so utterly unlikely to disport themselves -in the manner described without there had been a sincere attachment between -them, that, taking all this into consideration in conjunction with the recent -marriage, Mr. Benthall came to the conclusion that either Mrs. Covey must have, -unintentionally of course, deceived herself and him, or that there was something -remarkably peculiar in the conduct of Miss Ashurst, something more peculiar than -pleasant or estimable. He wondered whether Gertrude or Maude had any suspicions -on the matter. They had neither of them ever spoken to him on the subject, but -then Maude generally left him alone with Gertrude, and when he and Gertrude were -together, they had other things than other people's love-affairs to talk about. -He had not been up to Woolgreaves since the wedding, had not--which was quite a -different matter--seen either of the girls. He would ride over there the next -afternoon, and see how matters progressed.</p> - -<p>Accordingly the next day, while Maude and Gertrude were walking in the garden -and discussing Mrs. Creswell's newly arrived letter, or rather while Maude was -commenting on it, and Gertrude, as usual, was chorusing her assent to all her -sister said, they saw Mr. Benthall, at the far end of a long turf walk, making -towards them. Immediately on recognising the visitor Maude stopped talking, and -looked suddenly round at Gertrude, who, of course, blushed a very lively -crimson, and said, "Oh, Maud, I wish you wouldn't!"</p> - -<p>"Wish I wouldn't what, Gertrude?"</p> - -<p>"Make me so hot and uncomfortable!"</p> - -<p>"My dear, <i>I</i> don't make you hot and uncomfortable! We have been talking -together for the last half-hour perfectly quietly, when suddenly--why, of -course, it's impossible for me to say--you blush to the roots of your hair, and -accuse me of being the cause!"</p> - -<p>"No; but, Maude, you don't mind his coming?"</p> - -<p>"No indeed, Gertrude, I like <i>him</i>,if you mean Mr. Benthall, as of -course you do, very much; and if you and he are both really in earnest, I think -that you would. Here he is!"</p> - -<p>"Good day, ladies!" said Mr. Benthall, advancing with a bow. "I haven't seen -you since you were left deserted and forlorn, so I thought I would come over and -ask what news of the happy couple."</p> - -<p>"They will be back at the end of the week; we heard from Mrs. Creswell this -morning."</p> - -<p>"Ah, ha, from the blushing bride! And how is the blushing bride, and what -does she say?"</p> - -<p>"She makes herself rather more odious and disagreeable than ever!" said -Gertrude. "Oh, I don't mind, Maude! Geo--Mr. Benthall knows precisely what I -feel about Miss Ashurst and her 'superior' ways and manners and nonsense!"</p> - -<p>"What has she done now?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, she has--no, Maude, I will speak! She has written to say that Maude must -give up her music-room, you know, where she always sits and practises, and where -she's happier than anywhere else in the house, because my lady wants it for a -boudoir, or something, where she can show off her 'superiority,' I suppose."</p> - -<p>"Of course," said Maude, "Mrs. Creswell has a perfect right to----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, bother!" said Gertrude; "of course it's perfectly disgusting! Don't you -think so, Mr. Benthall?"</p> - -<p>"That's a home question," said Mr. Benthall, with a laugh; "but it is -scarcely in good taste of Mrs. Creswell so soon to----"</p> - -<p>"I should think not, indeed!" interrupted Gertrude. "Oh, I see plainly what -it will be. We shall lead nice lives with that awful woman!"</p> - -<p>"I don't think you'll find, as I've told you before, that that 'awful woman,' -as you call her, will trouble herself with our companionship for long," said -Maude; "and I cannot say that when she once comes into the house as mistress I -should feel the least desire to remain here."</p> - -<p>"And she'll do anything with poor uncle," said Gertrude; "he dotes on her."</p> - -<p>"Naturally," said Mr. Benthall; "and she is very much attached to him?"</p> - -<p>This question was rather addressed to Maude, and she answered it by saying -quietly, "I suppose so."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nonsense, Maude!" said Gertrude; "uncle's an old dear--kindest, nicest -old thing in the world, but not for a girl to like in--well, in that sort of -way, don't you know! Not the sort of man to be a girl's first love, I mean!"</p> - -<p>"Are you sure that your uncle is Miss Ashurst's first love?"</p> - -<p>"We never heard of any other. What is it, George--Mr. Benthall, I mean? -You've found out something! Oh, do tell us!"</p> - -<p>"Did you know anything of a Mr. Joyce, who was one of Mr. Ashurst's masters?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly--a small, slim, good-looking young man," said Maude.</p> - -<p>"Good looking, oh?" said Mr. Benthall.</p> - -<p>"Should not you say so, Gertrude?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't know," said Gertrude; "he was too short, I think, and too -dark. I like a--I mean----" And Gertrude broke down, and flew the flag of -distress in her face again.</p> - -<p>"What of Mr. Joyce, in connection with the subject on which we were talking, -Mr. Benthall?" asked Maude.</p> - -<p>And then Mr. Benthall told them all he had heard from Mrs. Covey.</p> - -<p> -Gertrude went alone with Mr. Benthall to the gate, and they were a very long -time saying their adieux. When she came back to the house, she found her sister -in the hall.</p> - -<p>"You found the gate very difficult to open, Gerty!" said Maude, with her -grave smile.</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear, very difficult! Do you know, dear,--he hasn't said anything, but -I think Mr. Benthall is going to ask me to be his wife!"</p> - -<p>"Well, Gerty, and what then?"</p> - -<p>"Then I shall have a home to offer you, my darling! a home where we can be -together, and needn't be under the rule of that beautiful, superior creature!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4> -<h5>CLOUDING OVER.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Gertrude Creswell was not wrong in her supposition that Mr. Benthall intended -asking her to become his wife. It is not often that mistakes are made in such -matters, despite all we read of disappointed maidens and blighted hopes. Life is -so very practical in this portion of the nineteenth century, that, except in -very rare cases, even love-affairs scarcely care to avail themselves of a halo -of romance, of that veil of mystery and secrecy which used to be half the charm -of the affair. "The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love" are now never seen, -in anything like good society, where the intention of two young persons to marry -as soon as--sometimes before--they have met, and the "understanding" between -them is fully recognised by all their friends; while as to the "matron's glance -which would such looks reprove," it is entirely obsolete, and never brought into -play, save when the bashful virgins bend their sidelong looks of love on -good-looking young paupers in the government offices or the army--a proceeding -which it is but fair to say the bashful virgins "of the period" very rarely -indulge in. Gertrude Creswell was as unlike a "girl of the period," in the -present delightful acceptation of that phrase, as can well be imagined; that is -to say, she was modest, frank, simple, honest, and without guile; but she was a -woman, and she knew perfectly that she had engaged George Benthall's attention, -and become the object of his affection, although she had had no previous -experience in the matter. They had lived such quiet lives, these young ladies, -and had slid so tranquilly from the frilled-trouser-wearing and <i>les-graces</i>-playing -period of childhood, to the long skirts, croquet, and flirtation of marriageable -age, that they had hardly thought of that largest component part of a girl's -day-dream, settling in life. There was with them no trace of that direct and -unmistakable line of demarcation known as "coming out"--that mountain-ridge -between the cold dreary Switzerland of lessons, governesses, midday dinner, -back-board, piano practice, and early bed, and the lovely glowing Italy of -balls, bouquets, cavaliers, croquet, Park, Row, crush-room, country-house, -French novel, and cotillon at five a.m. So Gertrude had never had a love-affair -of any kind before; but she was very quiet about it, and restrained her natural -tendency to gush, principally for Maude's sake. She thought it might seem unkind -in her to make a fuss, as she described it, about her having a lover before -Maude, who was as yet unsuited with that commodity. It puzzled Gertrude -immensely, this fact of her having proved attractive to any one while Maude was -by; she was accustomed to think so much of her elder sister, on whom she had -endeavoured to model herself to the best of her ability, that she could not -understand any one taking notice of her while her sister was present. Throughout -her life, with her father, with her mother, and now with her uncle, Gertrude -Creswell had always played the inferior part to her sister; she was always the -humble confidante in white muslin to Maude in Tilburina's white satin, and in -looks, manner, ability, or disposition, was not imagined to be able to stand any -comparison with the elder girl.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Benthall, preferring Gertrude, had given long and serious thought as -to his future. He had taken the trouble to do something which he knew he ought -to have done long since, but which he had always resolutely shirked--to look -into the actual condition of his school, and more especially of his boarders; -and after careful examination, he confessed to himself, as he smoked a costly -cigar, pacing slowly up and down the lane, which was ablaze with -apple-blossom--it would never have done to have been caught in the wildly -dissipated act of smoking by any of the boys, or, indeed, by a good many of the -villagers--he confessed to himself that he wanted a companion, and his -establishment wanted a head, and that Mrs. Covey, excellent in her way, was -scarcely a proper representative of the female element in the household of the -head-master of Helmingham school. Thus minded, Mr. Benthall rode over to -Woolgreaves, was received by a benevolent grin from the stable-helper, to whom -he confided his horse (confound those fellows, with what an extraordinary -facility they blunder on to the right scent in these matters!), went into the -house, paid his suit to the two young ladies, had but a few words with Miss -Maude, whose services, in consequence of an unfavourable turn of Mrs. Ashurst's -illness, were required upstairs, and a prolonged interview of a very -satisfactory kind with Miss Gertrude. With a portion only of this interview have -we to do; the remaining portion can be much "more easily imagined than -described," at least, by those to whom the circumstances of the position have -been, or actually are, familiar--perhaps no inconsiderable proportion of the -world.</p> - -<p>"By the way," said Mr. Benthall, as, after a third ridiculous attempt at -pretending he was going, he had again settled himself in his chair, but had not -thought it necessary to give up Miss Gertrude's hand, which he had taken in his -own when he had last risen to say adieu--"by the way, Miss--well, Gertrude--what -was that you were saying last time I was here about Mrs. Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"What I was saying about Mrs. Creswell? I don't exactly know, but it wouldn't -be very difficult to guess! I hate her!" said Gertrude roundly.</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes!" said Mr. Benthall, "I think I managed to gather that from the -general tone of your conversation; but what were you saying specifically?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what specifically means, I think!" said Gertrude, after a -moment's reflection; "but I do know why I hate her!"</p> - -<p>"And that is because----"</p> - -<p>"Because she pretends to be so awfully superior, and goes in to be so -horribly good and demure, and all that kind of thing," said Miss Gertrude, -growing very becomingly red with excitement. "She always reminds me of the -publican in the parable, who, 'standing afar off'--you know what I mean! I -always thought that the publican went in to draw more attention to himself by -his mock humility than all the noise and outcry which the Pharisee made, and -which any one would have put down to what it was worth; and that's just like -Miss A.--I mean Mrs. Creswell--I'm sure I shall call her Miss A. to my dying -day, Maude and I are so accustomed to speak of her like that--you'd think butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth; and this is so shocking, and that is so dreadful, -and she is so prim, and so innocent, and so self-sacrificing; and then she steps -in and carries off our uncle, for whom all the unmarried girls in the county -were angling years ago, and had given up the attempt in despair!"</p> - -<p>"But you must have seen all this in her for months, over since she has been -in the same house with you. And yet it is only since she achieved her conquest -of your uncle that you've been so bitter against her."</p> - -<p>"Not at all, George. That's so like a man, always to try and say an -unpleasant thing about the want of generosity, and all that. Not at all! I don't -mind so much about her marrying uncle; if he's such a silly old thing as to like -to marry her, that's his look-out, and not ours. And I've no doubt she'll make -him what people call a good wife, awfully respectable, and all that kind of -thing. And I don't believe she's ever been in love with anybody else, -notwithstanding your stories about that Mr. Joyce. I like your talking about -women's gossip, sir; a fine story that was you brought us, and all started by -some old woman, wasn't it? But what annoyed me worst was the way in which she -wrote about making Maude give up her music-room. I call that regularly cruel, -because she knew well enough that Maude was awfully fond of that room, and--and -that's what makes me hate her!"</p> - -<p>"And Maude seemed to think that that was to be but the beginning of a series -of unpleasant measures."</p> - -<p>"Well, you know Maude's blood is regularly up in this matter, and of course -she is prejudiced to a certain extent, and I don't know--I'm not clever, you -know, like she is--how far she's right. But I think plainly enough that Miss -A.--I mean Mrs. Creswell--intends to have her own way in everything; and as she -doesn't like us, and never did, she'll set much against us, and goodness knows -the result!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall could not have been described as "goodness," nor was he a -particularly far-seeing man, but he thought he knew the result. As he cantered -slowly home that afternoon, he thought the matter out, and came to the -conclusion that if Mrs. Creswell were the woman she was described, she would -tolerate but for a very little time the presence of two persons so obnoxious in -the same house with her, and that when that climax arrived, it was the time for -the Rev. George Benthall to step in and do himself and everybody else concerned -a good turn by taking Gertrude off her uncle's hands.</p> - -<p>There was very little doubt that the shelter of the Woolgreaves roof and the -luxuries of the Woolgreaves establishment would be required by one of its -inmates for but a very short time. Mrs. Ashurst's strength, which had been -gradually declining, began to fail her altogether, and it was evident to all -that the end was at hand. Dr. Osborne, who was in constant attendance--and the -little man never showed to such advantage as under the most trying professional -circumstances--shook his head sadly, and confessed that it had now become a -question of days. But the old lady was so tranquil, and apparently so happy, -that he hesitated to summon her daughter, more especially as the newly married -couple were so soon expected home. The girl who attended on the old lady in the -capacity of night-nurse had a different experience from Dr. Osborne so far as -the tranquillity of the patient was concerned. She knew when she was awake--and -considering that she was a full-blooded, heavy, bacon-fed lass, she really -deserved much credit for the manner in which she propped her eyelids up with her -forefingers, and resorted to sniffing instead of snoring--she knew that Mrs. -Ashurst had very disturbed nights, when she lay moaning and groaning and -plucking at the bedclothes, and constantly murmuring one phrase; "For my sake! -Lord help her! God grant it may turn out right! She did it, I know, for my -sake!" Gradually she lost consciousness, and in her wandering state she repeated -nothing but this one phrase, "For my sake!" Occasionally she would smile -placidly, and look round the room as though in admiration of its comfort and -appointments, but then the sad look would come over her face, and she would -repeat the melancholy sentence in the saddest of tones. Dr. Osborne, when he -eventually came to hear of this, and to witness it, confessed he could not -understand it. It was not a case for the College of Surgeons, nor getatable by -the Pharmacopoeia; it was what Shakespeare said--he'd heard his girl read -it--about not being able to minister to a mind diseased, or something of that -sort; and yet, God bless him, Mrs. Ashurst was about the last woman to have -anything of the kind. However, he should be deuced glad when little Marian--ah, -mustn't call her little Marian now; beg pardon, Mrs. Creswell--funny, wasn't it? -couldn't get that into his head! had known 'em all so long, and never -thought--nor anybody else, for the matter of that. However, that's neither here -nor there. What's that proverb, eh?--"There's no fool like an----" No, no, -mustn't say that before him, please. What was he saying? Oh, he should be glad -when Mrs. Creswell came home, and took her mother under her own charge.</p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Creswell came home two days before they were expected, or rather -before they had originally intended. Marian had heard of her mother's illness, -and expressed a wish to go to her at once--a wish which of course decided Mr. -Creswell's course of action. The tenants and villagers, to whom the news of Mr. -Creswell's intended political experiment had been imparted during his absence, -had intended to give him a welcome in which they could express their sentiments -on flags and mottoes and triumphal arches; and they had already arranged an -alliterative sentence, in which "Creswell and Conservatism!" each picked out -with gigantic capital letters, were to play conspicuous parts; but Dr. Osborne, -who got wind of what was threatened, drove off to Brocksopp in his little -pony-chaise, and there took Mr. Teesdale, the agent, into confidence, and -revealed to him the real state--hovering between life and death--in which Mrs. -Ashurst then lay. On the reception of this information, Mr. Teesdale took upon -himself to hint that the intended demonstration had better be postponed for a -more convenient season; and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Creswell, arriving by the -train at Brocksopp, and having their carriage to meet them, drove through the -streets when the working-people were all engaged at their factories and mills, -and made their way home, scarcely exciting any recognition.</p> - -<p>The two girls, on the alert at hearing the wheels of the approaching -carriage, rushed to the door, and were honoured by being permitted to kiss the -cheek of the bride, as she swept past them. No sooner had they kissed their -uncle, and were all assembled in the drawing-room, than Marian asked after her -mother.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you will find her very much changed, Mrs. Creswell," said Maude, -who, of course, was spokeswoman. "Mrs. Ashurst is very much weaker, and has--has -occasional fits of wandering, which----"</p> - -<p>"Why was I not informed of this?" asked Marian, in her chilliest tones. "Were -you both so much engaged, that you could not manage to let me have a line to -tell me of this change in my mother's state?"</p> - -<p>"Maude wanted to write and tell you, but Dr. Osborne wouldn't let her," -blustered out Gertrude. "She never will say anything for herself, but I'm sure -she has been most attentive, Maude has, and I don't think----"</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry to interrupt this <i>lobgesang</i>,Gertrude; but I must go up and -see my mother at once. Be good enough to open the door." "And she sailed out of -the room," Gertrude said, afterwards, "as though she'd been a duchess! In one of -those rustling silks, don't you know, as stiff as a board, which look as if -they'd stand up by themselves!"</p> - -<p>When Marian reached her mother's door, and was just about entering, she -stopped short, arrested by a low dull moaning sound which fell upon her ear. She -listened with her blood curdling within her and her lips growing cold and rigid. -Still it came, that low hollow moan, monotonous, dreadful. Then she opened the -door, and, passing swiftly in, saw her mother lying tossing on the bed, plucking -furtively at the bedclothes, and moaning as she moved her head wearily in its -unrest.</p> - -<p>"Mother!" cried Marian--"mother, darling mother don't you know me?" And she -flung herself on the bed, and, taking the old woman's head in her arms, softly -kissed her lips.</p> - -<p>The bright, the momentarily bright, eyes looked at her without seeing -her--she knew that--and presently moved away again round the room, as Mrs. -Ashurst raised her long lean hand, and, pointing to the wall, said, -"Pictures--and books--all fine--all fine!--for my sake!" uttering the last words -in a deep hissing whisper.</p> - -<p>Marian was too shocked to speak. Shocked, not frightened; she had much -natural strength of mind, and had had experience of illness, though not of this -character. But she was shocked to see her mother in such a state, and deeply -enraged at the fact that the increase of the illness had been kept from her. -"Don't you know me?" she repeated; "mother, darling mother, don't you know me? -Marian, poor Marian! your daughter Marian!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, don't blame her!" said the old woman, in the same whisper. "Poor Marian! -poor dear Marian! my Jimmy's pet! She did it for my sake, all for my sake! -Carriages and horses and wine for me--wine, rich strong wine for me--all for me, -all for my sake, poor Marian! all for my sake!"</p> - -<p>"Is she often in this way? Does she often repeat those horrible words?" asked -Marian of the servant, of whose presence she then, on raising her head, became -for the first time aware.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, miss--I mean, mum!--constantly, mum! She never says anything else, -mum, but about some things being for her sake, mum. And she haven't said -anything else, miss, since she was off her head--I mean, since she was -delirrous, mum!"</p> - -<p>"Does she always mention my name--Marian?"</p> - -<p>"Always, mum, 'Poor Marian'--savin' your presence, and not meanin' a -liberty--is what she do say, miss, and always about 'for her sake' it's done, -whatever it is, which I don't know."</p> - -<p>"How long has she been like this? How long have you been with her?"</p> - -<p>"A week last Wednesday, mum, was when I was brought from the laundry to be -nurse; and if you find your collars and cuffs iron-moulded, mum, or not properly -got up, you'll understand it's not me, Dr. Osbin having had me fetched here as -bein' strong for nussin' and a good sitter-up o' nights----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I understand!" said Marian, vacantly; "you won't have to sit up any -more; I shall relieve you of that. Just wait here; I shall be back in a few -minutes."</p> - -<p>Marian hurried downstairs, and in the drawing-room found her husband, the two -girls, and Dr. Osborne, who had joined the party. There must have been some -peculiar expression in her face, for she had no sooner opened the door than Mr. -Creswell, looking up, hurried across the room and took her hand, saying -anxiously, "What is the matter, Marian? what is it, my love?"</p> - -<p>"Simply that I arrive here to find my mother wandering and imbecile--she whom -I left comparatively cheerful, and certainly in the possession of all her -senses--that is all, nothing more," said Marian, in a hard low voice, and with a -dead-white face and dried bloodless lips. "I thought," she continued, turning to -the girls, "that I might have left her safely in your charge. I never asked for -your sympathy, God knows; I would not have had it if you had offered it to me; -but I thought you seemed to be disposed kindly and affectionately towards her. -There was so much gush and display in your attachment, I might have known it had -no real foundation."</p> - -<p>"You have no right to speak to us in this way, Mrs. Creswell!" cried Maude, -making a step in advance and standing very stiff and erect; "you have no right -to----"</p> - -<p>"Maude," broke in Mr. Creswell, in his coldest tone, "recollect to whom you -are speaking, if you please."</p> - -<p>"I do recollect, uncle; I am speaking to Mrs. Ashurst's daughter--dear Mrs. -Ashurst, whom both Gertrude and I love, and have tried to show we love her, as -she would tell you, if she could, poor darling! And it is only because Mrs. -Creswell is her daughter that I answer her at all, after her speaking to me in -that way. I will tell you now, Mrs. Creswell, what I should not otherwise have -mentioned, that Gerty and I have been constant in our attendance on Mrs. -Ashurst, and that one or other of us has always slept in the next room, to be -within call if we were wanted, and----"</p> - -<p>"Why did you take upon yourselves to keep me in ignorance of the change in my -mother's mental state, of this fearful wandering and unconsciousness?--that is -what I complain of."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I must not let them say they took it upon themselves at all," said Dr. -Osborne, who had been looking on uncomfortably during this dialogue; "that was -my fault entirely; the girls wanted to send for you, but I said no, much better -not. I knew you were due home in a few days, and your earlier arrival could not -have done the least good to my poor old friend upstairs, and would only have -been distressing to you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you accept the responsibility, Dr. Osborne?" said Marian, still in the -same hard voice. "Would you have acted in the same way with any ordinary -patient, any stranger?"</p> - -<p>"Eh?" exclaimed the little doctor, in a very loud key, rubbing his face hard -with his pocket-handkerchief. "What do you ask, Marian?--any stranger?"</p> - -<p>"Would you have taken upon yourself to keep a daughter from her mother under -similar circumstances, supposing they had been strangers to you?"</p> - -<p>"No--no, perhaps not," said the little doctor, still wildly astonished.</p> - -<p>"It will be perhaps better, then, if henceforth you put us on the footing of -strangers!" said Marian.</p> - -<p>"Marian!" exclaimed Mr. Creswell.</p> - -<p>"I mean what I said," she replied. "Had we been on that footing now, I should -have been at my mother's bedside some days since!" And she walked quickly from -the room.</p> - -<p>Dr. Osborne made two steps towards his hat, seized it, clapped it on his -head, and with remarkably unsteady legs was making his way to the door, when Mr. -Creswell took him by the arm, begged him not to think of what had just passed, -but to remember the shock which Marian had received, the suddenness with which -this new phase of her mother's illness had come upon her, etc. The little doctor -did not leave the room, as apparently he had intended at first; he sat down on a -chair close by, muttering--</p> - -<p>"Treat her as a stranger rocked her on my knee brought her through measles! -father died in my arms treat her as a stranger!"</p> - -<p> -Two days afterwards Marian stood by the bed on which lay Mrs. Ashurst, dead. As -she reverently arranged the gray hair under the close cap, and kissed the cold -lips, she said--</p> - -<p>"You did not enjoy the money very long, darling mother! But you died in -comfort, at any rate and that was worth the sacrifice--if sacrifice it were!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> -<h5>IN HARNESS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It was the autumn of the year, in the spring of which Walter Joyce had -returned to London from Westhope. Six months had elapsed since he had read what -he had almost imagined to be his death-warrant in Marian's reply to his letter -containing the Berlin proposal. It was not his death-warrant; he had survived -the shock, and, indeed, had borne the disappointment in a way that he did not -think possible when the blow first fell upon him. Under the blessed, soothing -influence of time, under the perhaps more effectual influence of active -employment, his mind had been weaned from dwelling on that dread blank which, as -he at first imagined, was to have been his sole outlook for the future. He was -young, and strong, and impressionable; he returned to London inclined to be -misanthropical and morose, disposed to believe in the breaking of hearts and the -crushing of hopes, and the rather pleasant sensations of despair. But after a -very short sojourn in the metropolis, he was compelled to avow to himself the -wisdom of Lady Caroline Mansergh's prognostications concerning him, and the -absolute truth of everything she had said. A life of moping, of indulgence in -preposterous cynicism and self-compassion, was not for him; he was meant for far -better things--action in the present, distinction in the future--those were to -be his aims, and after a fortnight's indolence and moodiness, he had flung -himself into the work that was awaiting him, and begun to labour at it with all -his energy and all his brain-power.</p> - -<p>Some little time afterwards, when Joyce thought over his mental condition in -those first days of his return to London, the cheap cynicism, the pettishness, -and the languor which he had suffered to possess him, he wondered why old Jack -Byrne, with whom he had taken up his quarters, had not rebuked him for it, and -one day, with some considerable confusion, he asked the old man the reason.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't I speak to you about it, and pitch into you for it, my boy?" said -the old man, with his peculiar soft laugh. "Because it's best to let some things -have their run, and come to a stop of their own accord. I saw plainly enough -what would be the result of that love business, long ago, when you first told me -of it. Why didn't I say so then? Why, you don't imagine I should have attempted -to influence you in such a matter, when I had never even seen the lady, and had -only general experience to take as my guide? I did give you as many hints as I -thought prudent or decent in a letter which I wrote to you, my lad; but you -didn't seem to profit by them much, or, indeed, to take any heed of them. You -went sailing away straight and smoothly enough until that squall came down upon -you and carried away your masts and your rigging, and left you a helpless log -tossing on the waters. It was so nice to be a helpless log, wasn't it?--so nice -that you thought you would never be anything else. But, God bless you, I knew -differently; I'd seen the same case a hundred times before, and I knew if you -were left alone you would come all right in time. And now you have come all -right, and you're doing your work well, and they think highly of you at the <i> -Comet</i> office."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad of that; that's the best news you could give me. Do they think well -of me? Do they think I do my work well, and----"</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, what a swallow the lad has for flummery!" grumbled old Byrne. -"He'd like me to repeat every word of praise to him. It's wonderful to see how -he glows under it--no, not wonderful, when one recollects how young he is. Ah, -youth, youth! Do they? Yes, of course they do; you know that well enough. It's -deuced lucky you gave up that notion of going to Berlin, Walter, boy."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Joyce, with a sigh, as he remembered all about the proposal; "I'm -better here."</p> - -<p>"Better here, I should think you were, indeed! A correspondent can't do much -in the way of making his mark. He can be serious and well informed, or chatty -and nonsensical; he can elect between describing the councils of cabinets or the -circumference of crinolines; but in either case his scope is limited, and he can -never get much fame for himself. Now in your present position as an essayist and -leader-writer of remarkable ability--oh, you needn't pretend to blush, you know -I shouldn't say what I didn't think--there is possibly a very bright future in -store for you! And to think that years ago you possessed a distaste for -politics!"</p> - -<p>"It does seem ridiculous," said Walter, smiling. "I am always amused when I -remember my very wilful ignorance on such matters. However, the credit of the -conversion, if credit there be, is entirely owing to you and O'Connor."</p> - -<p>"Not entirely, I'm thinking," said the old man. "I recollect your telling me -of a conversation you had with Lady Caroline Mansergh, in which certain hopes -were expressed and certain suggestions made, which, I should say, had their -effect in influencing your conduct. Am I right, Walter?" And Mr. Byrne looked -hard and keenly from under his bushy eyebrows at his young friend.</p> - -<p>"Perfectly right!" said Walter, meeting his glance. "I think that the -remembrance of Lady Caroline's advice, and the knowledge that she thought I had -within me the power of distinguishing myself, were the first inducements to me -to shake off that horrible lethargic state into which I had fallen!"</p> - -<p>"Well, we must take care that you fulfil all her ladyship's expectations, -Walter! What you are doing now must merely be a stepping-stone to something much -better. I don't intend to die until I have seen you a leader in the people's -cause, my boy! Oh yes, I allow you're soundly with them now, and fight their -battles well and effectively with the pen; but I want to live to see you in -Parliament, to hear you riddling the plutocrats with your banter, and -overwhelming the aristocrats with your scorn!"</p> - -<p>"My dear old friend, I fear you pitch the note a little too high," said -Joyce, with a laugh. "I don't think you will ever see me among the senators."</p> - -<p>"And why not?" asked old Byrne, in a very excited manner--"and why not, pray? -Is there any one speaks better at the Club? Is there any one more popular among -the leaders of the cause, or with them? If those miserable Tories had not -swallowed the leek fifty times in succession, as they have just done, and -thereby succeeded in clinging to office for yet a few months, the chiefs of the -party, or at least of one section of it--the 'ultras,' as they are good enough -to call us--would have relied greatly on your advice and assistance, and when -the election comes, as come it must within a very short time, you will see how -you will be in requisition. And about your position, Walter? I think we should -look to that at once. I think you should lose no time in entering yourself at -some Inn of Court, and commence reading for the bar!"</p> - -<p>"Don't ask me to make any change in my life at present, old friend!" said -Walter. "No!" as he saw the old man with an impatient gesture about to -speak--"no, I was not going to plead the want of the money; for, in the first -place, I know you would lend it to me, and in the second I am myself making, as -you know, an excellent income. But I don't want to undertake anything more just -now than what I am actually engaged in. I am quite sufficiently occupied--and I -am very happy."</p> - -<p>Old Byrne was compelled to be satisfied with this declaration, but he -grumbled out that it should only be temporary, and that he intended to see -Walter in a very different position before he died.</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce said nothing more than the truth when he said that he was very -happy. He had fallen into exactly the kind of life which suited him, the -pursuance of a congenial occupation amongst companions of similar tastes. There -are, I take it, but few of us professional plyers of the pen who do not look -back with regret and with something akin to wonder to that halcyon time when we -first entered upon authorship; when the mere act of writing was in itself -pleasant, when the sight of a proof-sheet was calculated to fill one with -infinite delight, when one glowed with delight at praise, or writhed in agony -under attack. In after life, when the novelty has entirely worn off, when the -Pegasus which ambled, and kicked, and pranced, has settled down into the -serviceable hack of ordinary use, often obliged, like other hacks, to go through -his work and to put forth his paces at inopportune times and seasons, it seems -impossible to believe that this freshness of feeling, this extraordinary -enthusiasm, can ever have existed; unless, perchance, you see the reflex of -yourself in some one else who is beginning to pursue the sunny verdant end of -that path which with you at present has worn down into a very commonplace beaten -track, and then you perceive that the illusion was not specially your own, but -is common to all who are in that happy glorious season of youth.</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce was thoroughly happy. He had pleasant rooms in Staples Inn--a -quiet, quaint, old-world place, where the houses with their overhanging eaves -and gabled roofs and mullioned windows recall memories of Continental cities and -college "quads," and yet are only just shut off from the never-ceasing bustle -and riot of Holborn. The furniture of these rooms was not very new, and there -was not very much of it; but the sitting-room boasted not merely of two big -easy-chairs, but of several rows of bookshelves, which had been well filled, by -Jack Byrne's generosity, with books which the old man had himself selected; and -in the bedroom there was a bed and a bath, which, in Joyce's opinion, satisfied -all reasonable expectations. Here, in the morning, he read or wrote; for he was -extending his connection with literature, and found a ready market for his -writings in several of the more thoughtful periodicals of the day. In the -afternoon he would go down to the <i>Comet</i> office, and take part in the -daily conference of the principal members of the staff. There present would be -Mr. Warren, the proprietor of the paper, who did not understand much about -journalism, as, indeed, could scarcely be expected of him, seeing that the whole -of his previous life had been taken up in attending to the export provision -trade, in which he had made his fortune, but who was a capital man of business, -looked after the financial affairs of the concern, and limited his interference -with the conduct of the paper in listening to what others had to say. There -would be Mr. Saltwell, who devoted himself to foreign politics, who was a -wonderful linguist, and a skilful theological controversialist, and who, in his -tight drab trousers, cut-away coat, and bird's-eye cravat, looked like a racing -trainer or a tout; Mr. Gowan, a Scotchman, a veteran journalist of enormous -experience, who, as he used to say, had had scores of papers "killed under him;" -Mr. Forrest, a slashing writer, but always in extremes, and who was always put -on to any subject which it was required should be highly lauded or shamefully -abused--it did not matter much to Mr. Forrest, who was a man of the world; and -Mr. Ledingham, a man of great learning but very ponderous in style and recondite -in subject, whose articles were described by Mr. Shimmer as being "like roast -pig, very nice occasionally, but not to be indulged in often with impunity," -were also usual attendants at the conference, which was presided over by the -recognised editor of the <i>Comet</i>, Terence O'Connor.</p> - -<p>Mr. O'Connor was the type of a class of journalists which yet exists, indeed, -but is not nearly so numerous as it was a few years ago. Your newspaper editor -of to-day dines with the duke and looks in at the countess's reception; his own -reporter includes him amongst the distinguished company which he, the reporter, -"observes" at select reunions; he rides in the Park, and drives down to his -office from the House of Commons, where he has been the centre of an admiring -circle of members, in his brougham. Shades of the great men of bygone days--of -White and Berry, of Kew and Captain Shandon--think of that Terence O'Connor was -of the old school. He had made journalism his profession since he left Trinity, -and had only won his position by hard labour and untiring perseverance, had -written in and edited various provincial newspapers, had served his time as sub -and hack on the London press, and had eventually risen to the editorial chair -which he filled so admirably. A man of vast learning, with the simplicity of a -child, of keen common sense tempered with great amicability, an admirable -writer, an ardent politician, wielding great power with never-failing -impartiality, Terence O'Connor passed his life in a world in which he was -exceptionally influential, and to which he was comparatively unknown. His -neighbours at Clapham had no idea that the slim gray-haired gentleman whom they -saw pottering about in his garden on summer afternoons, or lying on the grass -under the shade of a big tree playing with his children, was the -lightning-compeller and the thunder-creator of the <i>Comet</i>.Though most -earnest while engaged in his work, it was his greatest delight to leave every -trace of it behind him at his office, and to be entirely free from its influence -when at home with his wife and children. Occasionally, of course, the few old -friends who dined with him would start a political or literary discussion, in -which he would bear his part; but he was never happy until the conversation -found its way back into the ordinary social channels, or until a demand was made -for music, of which he was passionately fond. It was a lucky thing for Walter -Joyce to make the acquaintance and to win the regard of such a man as Terence -O'Connor, who had a wonderfully quick eye for character, and who, having noticed -Walter's readiness of appreciation and bright incisive style in the few articles -which he wrote on the occasion of his first introduction by Mr. Byrne, suggested -that the post at Berlin should be offered to him. The more they were thrown -together the better they liked each other. Walter had the greatest admiration -for O'Connor's talent and power of work; while the elder man looked kindly on -his young friend's eagerness and enthusiasm, his desire for distinction, and his -delight at laudation, perhaps as somewhat reflecting his own feelings before he -had become settled down to the mill-horse grind--ah, how many years ago!</p> - -<p>After the conference had broken up, Joyce, to whom, perhaps, a subject had -been given to treat, would go back to his chambers and work at it for two or -three hours, or he would remain at the office discussing the matter in detail -with Terence O'Connor, and taking his friend's advice as to the manner of -treatment. Or, if he were free, he would lounge in the Park, and stare at the -equipages, and the toilettes, and the London panorama of luxury there constantly -going by, all new to the country-bred young man, to whom, until he went to Lord -Hetherington's, the old rumbling chariot of Sir Thomas Churchill, with its -worsted-epauletted coachman and footman, was a miracle of comfort and a triumph -of taste. Or he would ramble out with Shimmer, or Forrest, or some other of his -colleagues, to the suburbs, over the breezy heights of Hampstead, or through the -green Willesden lanes, and get the city dust and smoke blown out of them. When -he was not on duty at the office at night, Walter would sometimes take the -newspaper admission and visit the theatre; but he had little taste for the -drama, or rather, perhaps, for such dramatic representations as were then in -vogue, and it pleased him much more to attend the meetings of the Forum, a club -constituted for the purpose of discussing the principal political and social -questions of the day, and composed of young barristers and newspaper writers, -with a sprinkling of public-office men, who met in the large room of a tavern -situated in one of the quiet streets leading from Fleet Street to the river. The -leaders of the different political parties, and others whose deeds or works had -given them celebrity or notoriety, were happy in their ignorance of the -existence of the Forum, or they must have been rendered uncomfortable by finding -themselves the objects of so much wild denunciation. The members of the Forum -were not in the habit of concealing their opinions, or of moderating the -language in which those opinions were expressed; and the debate in which the -then holders of office were not denounced as effete and useless nincompoops, -bound by degrading ties of subserviency to a policy which, while originally -dangerous, was now degrading, or in which the leaders of the Opposition were not -stigmatised as base-bred ruffians, linked together by the common bond of -ignorance with the common hope of rapine--was considered dull and spiritless -indeed. As Mr. Byrne had intimated, Walter Joyce was one of the most prominent -members of this debating club; he had a clear resonant voice, capable of -excellent modulation, and spoke with fluency. His speeches, which were tinged -with a far more pronounced radicalism--the effect of the teaching of Jack -Byrne--than had previously been promulgated at the meetings of the Forum, soon -became widely talked of among the members and their friends, and Walter's rising -was eagerly looked forward to, and warmly hailed, not merely for the novelty of -his doctrine, but for the boldness and the humour with which he sought to -inculcate it. His success was so great that the heads of the Tory party in the -club became alarmed, and thought it necessary to send off for Alister -Portcullis, who was formerly the great speaker on their side, but who had -recently become editor of a provincial paper, to return to town, and oppose -Joyce on one or two special subjects of discussion. Portcullis came up to -London, and the encounter took place before a room crowded to the ceiling (it -was rumoured--and believed by some--that the Premier and the leader of the -Opposition were present, with wigs drawn over their eyes and comforters over -their noses), and re-echoing to the cheers of the partisans. Walter was -understood to have held his own, and, indeed, to have had the best of it; but -Portcullis made a very good speech, covering his opponent with sarcasm and -invective, and declaiming against the cause which he represented with a -whirlwind of fury which greatly incensed old Jack Byrne, who happened to be -sitting immediately beneath him.</p> - -<p>Political feeling ran very high just at that time, and the result of the -forthcoming election was looked forward to with the greatest confidence by the -Radicals. The organisation of the party was very complete. A central committee, -of which Mr. Byrne and Terence O'Connor were members, had its sittings in -London, and was in daily communication with the various local committees of the -principal provincial towns, and most of the intending candidates had been -despatched to make a tour of the neighbourhood which they proposed to represent, -with the view of ascertaining the feelings of the electors, and ingratiating -themselves with them.</p> - -<p>Among these touring candidates was young Mr. Bokenham, who aspired to -represent the constituency of Brocksopp. Young Bokenham had been selected by the -central committee principally because his father was a very influential -manufacturer, and because he himself, though not specially clever or deeply -versed in politics, was recommended as fluent, of good appearance, and eminently -docile and lead able. The reports which during and after his visit came up from -the local to the central committee by no means bore out the recommendation. The -fact was that young Mr. Bokenham, who had at a very early age been sent to Eton, -who had been a gentleman commoner of Christchurch, and who had always had his -own way and the command of large sums of money to enable him to do as he -pleased, had become, as is very often the case under the influence of such -surroundings, a perfect type of the parvenu and the plutocrat, and had, if -anything, rather an antipathy for that cause of which he was about to offer -himself as one of the representatives. To announce this would, however, he was -aware, be simply to renounce the very large fortune which would accrue to him at -his father's death, and which the old man, who had been a staunch Radical from -his earliest days, and who gloried in being a self-made man, would certainly -have dispersed through a thousand charitable channels rather than allow one -penny of it to be touched by his politically renegade son. Moreover, young -Bokenham pined for the distinction of parliament membership, which he knew, for -the present at least, was only to be obtained by holding to his father's -political principles; and so ho professed to be in earnest in the matter, and -went down to Brocksopp and called on the principal people of the place, and -convened a few meetings and delivered a few speeches. But the Brocksopp folk -were very badly impressed. They utterly failed to recognise young Tommy -Bokenham, as they had always spoken of him among themselves during all the years -of his absence, in the bearded, natty-booted, delicately gloved gentleman, who -minced his words and used a perfumed handkerchief, and talked about the chah-tah -of our lib-ah-ties. His manner was unpleasant and offensive, and his matter was -not half sufficiently peppered to suit the tastes of the Brocksopp Radicals, who -could not be too frequently reminded that they were the salt of the earth, and -that the horny hand of labour was what their intending representative was always -wishing to clasp. Young Mr. Bokenham, no longer Tommy after he had once been -seen, objected to the horny hand of labour, disliked the smell of factories, and -the manner and appearance of the working-classes altogether. He could not drink -much at the public-houses, and the smell of the strong shag tobacco made him -ill, and in fact his first tour for canvassing was a woful and egregious -failure, and was so reported to the central committee in London by their -Brocksopp agents.</p> - -<p>On this report the committee met, and had a long and earnest consultation. -Brocksopp was an important place, and one which it was most desirable to secure. -No other candidate possessing such wealth or such local influence as young -Bokenham could be found, and it was therefore imperative that he should be -carried through. It was, however, necessary that his mistakes should be pointed -out to him, and he should be thoroughly well schooled and advised as to his -future proceedings. He was accordingly invited to attend the next meeting of the -committee, which he did, and received a three-hours' drilling with great -composure. He promised to adopt all the suggestions which were made, and to -carry out all the plans which were proposed. Walter Joyce, who happened to be -present, was much amused at Mr. Bokenham's great amiability and power of -acquiescence, and was about saying so to Mr. Byrne, who was seated next him, -when he was startled by hearing the candidate say, in answer to a question from -one of the committee as to whether any one was in the field on the Tory side--</p> - -<p>"Oh yes; an old gentleman named Creswell, a retired manufacturer of great -wealth and position in those parts."</p> - -<p>"Is he likely to make a strong fight?"</p> - -<p>"Well, ya-as!" drawled young Bokenham. "Old boy's not supposed to care -particularly about it himself, don't you know; but he's lately married a young -wife--doosid pretty woman, and all that kind of thing--and they say she's set -her heart on becoming the memberess."</p> - -<p>"Do you hear that?" whispered Byrne to Joyce.</p> - -<p>"I do," replied Walter. "This man is a fool; but he must be got in, and Mr. -Creswell must be kept out, at all hazards."</p> - -<p>And Jack Byrne grinned.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> -<h5>RIDING AT ANCHOR.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The intention, one of the first which Marian Creswell had expressed after her -marriage, and one which had so incensed Gertrude, of converting the girls' -music-room into a boudoir, had long since been carried out. Almost immediately -after he had returned from his wedding trip, Mr. Creswell had sent to London for -decorators and upholsterers. An army of foreign artists, much given to beard and -pantomimical gesture, to humming scraps of operas over their work, and to -furtively smoking cigarettes in the shrubberies whenever they could evade the -stern eye of the overseer, had arrived upon the scene; and when they returned to -town they left the music-room, which had been a bleak, gaunt, cheerless -apartment enough, a miracle of brightness and cosiness, elegance and comfort. -Everybody was astonished at the change, and the young ladies themselves were -compelled to confess that the boudoir, as it then appeared, was perfectly -charming, and that really, perhaps, after all, Mrs. Creswell might have been -actuated, apart from mere malevolence and spite, by some sense and appreciation -of the capabilities of the room in the selection she had made. There was a good -deal of actual truth in this judgment; Marian had determined to take the -earliest opportunity of asserting herself against the girls and letting them -know the superiority of her position; she had also intended, if ever she were -able, to gratify the wish to have a room of her own, where she might be absolute -mistress, surrounded by her books, pictures, and other belongings; and by the -acquisition of the music-room she was able to accomplish both these intentions. -Moreover, the windows of the music-room looked out towards Helmingham. Half-way -towards the dim distance stood the old schoolhouse, where she had been born, -where all her childhood had been spent, and where she had been comparatively -innocent and unworldly; for though the worship of wealth had probably been -innate in her, and had grown with her growth and strengthened with her strength, -she had not then sacrificed others to her own avarice, nor forfeited her -self-respect for the gratification of her overwhelming passion. In a person -differently constituted, the constant contemplation of such views might have had -an irritating or a depressing effect, but Marian's strength of mind rendered her -independent of any such feeling. She never thought with regret of the step she -had taken; she never had the remotest twinge of conscience as to the manner in -which she had behaved to Walter Joyce; she was frequently in the habit of -passing all the circumstances in review in her mind, and invariably came to the -conclusion that she had acted wisely, and that, were she placed in a similar -position again, she should do exactly the same. No; she was able to think over -all the passages of her first and only love--that love which she bad -deliberately cast from the pedestal of her heart, and trampled under -foot--without an extra pulsation of excitement or regret. She would pass hour -after hour in gazing from her window on distant places where, far removed from -the chance of intrusion by the prying villagers--who, however, were profoundly -ignorant of what was going on--she would have stolen interviews with her lover, -listening to his fond words, and experiencing a kind of pleasure such as she had -hitherto thought nothing but the acquisition of money could create. Very -tranquilly she thought of the bygone time, and looked across the landscape at -the well-known places. She had slipped so easily into her present position, and -settled herself so firmly there, that she could scarcely believe there had been -a time when she had been poor and dependent, when she had been unable to -exercise her every whim and fancy, and when she had been without an elderly -gray-haired gentleman in constant attendance upon her, and eager to anticipate -her very slightest wish.</p> - -<p>One afternoon, about eight months after her mother's death, Marian was -sitting at the window of her boudoir, gazing vacantly at the landscape before -her. She did not see the trees, erst so glorious in their russet garments, now -half-stripped and shivering in the bitter autumnal wind that came booming over -the distant hills, and moaned wearily over the plain; she did not see the little -stream that lately flashed so merrily in the summer sunlight, but had now become -a brown and swollen foaming torrent, roaring where it had softly sung, and -bursting over its broad banks instead of coyly slipping through its pebbly -shallows; she did not see the birds now skimming over the surface of the ground, -now rising, but with no lofty flight, the harbingers of coming storm; she did -not see the dun clouds banking up to windward; nor did she note any of the -outward characteristics of the scene. She was dull and bored, and it was a -relief when she heard the handle of the door turned, and, looking round, saw her -husband in the room.</p> - -<p>There was nothing of palpable uxoriousness--that most unpleasant of displayed -qualities, especially in elderly people--in the manner in which Mr. Creswell -advanced and, bending over his wife, took her face in his hands and kissed her -cheek; nor in the way in which he sat down beside her and passed his hands over -her shining hair; nor in the words of tenderness with which he addressed her. -All was relieved by a touch of dignity, by an evidence of earnest sincerity, and -the veriest cynic and scoffer at the domesticity and what Charles Lamb called -the "behaviour of married people," would have found nothing to ridicule in the -undisguised love and admiration of the old man for his young wife, so quietly -were they exhibited.</p> - -<p>"What made you fly away in that hurry from the library just now, darling?" -said he. "You just peeped in, and were off again, never heeding my calling to -you to remain."</p> - -<p>"I had no notion you were engaged, or that anybody was here!" said Marian.</p> - -<p>"I am never engaged when you want me, and there is never anybody here whose -business is of equal importance with your pleasure."</p> - -<p>"When did you cultivate the art of saying pretty things?" asked Marian, -smiling. "Is it a recent acquisition, or one of old standing, which had only -rusted from disuse?"</p> - -<p>"I never had occasion to try whether I possessed the power until you came to -me," said Mr. Creswell, with an old-fashioned bow. "There, oddly enough, I was -talking about speaking in public, and the trick of pleasing people by public -speaking, to those two men when you looked into the room."</p> - -<p>"Indeed. Who were your visitors?"</p> - -<p>"I thought you would have recognised old Croke, of Brocksopp; he seemed a -little hurt at your running away without speaking to him; but I put him right. -The other gentleman has corresponded with you, but never seen you before--Mr. -Gould, of London. You wrote to him just after poor Tom's death, you recollect, -about that sale."</p> - -<p>"I recollect perfectly," said Marian. (She remembered In an instant Joyce's -allusion to the man in his first memorable letter.) "But what brought him here -at this time? There is no question of the sale now?"</p> - -<p>"No, dearest; but Mr. Gould has a very large practice as a parliamentary -agent and lawyer, and he has come down here about the election."</p> - -<p>"The election? I thought that was all put off!"</p> - -<p>"Put off?" repeated Mr. Creswell. "Indefinitely? For ever?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure you told me so."</p> - -<p>"Now, that is so like a woman The idea of an election being quietly put aside -in that way! No, child, no; it was postponed merely; it is expected to come off -very shortly."</p> - -<p>"And what have these two men to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"These two men, as you call them, have a great deal to do with it. Mr. Croke -is a leading man amongst the Conservative party--that is my party, you -understand, child--in Brocksopp, and Mr. Gould is to be my London agent, having -Mr. Teesdale, whom you know, as his lieutenant, on the spot."</p> - -<p>"You speak of 'my party,' and 'my agent,' as though you had fully made up -your mind to go in for the election. Is it so?"</p> - -<p>"I had promised to do so," said Mr. Creswell, again with the old-fashioned -bow, "before you did me the honour to accept the position which you so worthily -fill; and I fear, even had you objected, that I should scarcely have been able -to retract. But when I mentioned it to you, you said nothing to lead me to -believe that you did object."</p> - -<p>"Nor do I in the very smallest degree. On the contrary, I think it most -advisable and most important. What are your chances of success?"</p> - -<p>"Well, on the whole, good; though it struck me that our friends who have just -gone were a little too sanguine, and--at least, so far as Mr. Croke was -concerned--a little too much disposed to underrate the strength of the enemy."</p> - -<p>"The enemy? Ah!--I forgot. Who is our opponent?" Mr. Creswell heard the -change in the pronoun, and was delighted.</p> - -<p>"A certain young Mr. Bokenham, son of an old friend and contemporary of mine, -who was launched in life about the same time that I was, and seemed to progress -step by step with me. I am the younger man by some years, I believe; but," -continued the old gentleman, with an odd, half-sheepish look, "it seems curious -to find myself running a tilt with Tommy Bokenham, who was not born when I was a -grown man!"</p> - -<p>"The position is one with which age has very little to do," said Marian, with -a slight hardening of her voice. "No, if anything, I should imagine that a man -of experience and knowledge of the world had a better chance than a young and -necessarily unformed man, such as Mr. Bokenham. You say that your friends seemed -confident?"</p> - -<p>"A little too confident. Old Croke is a Tory to the backbone, and will not -believe in the possibility of a Liberal being returned for the borough; and Mr. -Gould seems to depend very much on the local reports which he has had from men -of the Croke stamp, and which are all of the most roseate hue."</p> - -<p>"Over-certainty is the almost infallible precursor of failure. And we must -not fail in this matter. Don't you think you yourself had better look into it -more closely than you have done?"</p> - -<p>"My darling one, you give me an interest in the matter which previously it -never possessed to me! I will turn my attention to it at once, go into the -details as a matter of business, and take care that, if winning is possible, we -shall win. No trouble or expense shall be spared about it, child, you may -depend; though what has given you this sudden start I cannot imagine. I should -have thought that the ambition of being a member's wife was one which had never -entered your head."</p> - -<p>"My head is always ready to serve as a receptacle for schemes for my -husband's advancement, whether they be of my own, or his, or other people's -prompting," said Marian, demurely. And the old gentleman bent over her again, -and kissed her on the forehead.</p> - -<p>What was this sudden interest in these election proceedings on Marian's part, -and whence did it arise? Was it mere verbiage, pleasant talk to flatter her -husband, showing feigned excitement about his prospects to hide the real -carelessness and insouciance which she could not choose but feel? Was she tired -of his perpetual presence in waiting upon her, and did she long to be rid of her -patient slave, untiring both in eye and ear in attention to her wants, almost -before they were expressed? There are many women who weary very speedily of suit -and service perpetually paid them, who sicken of compliments and attentions, as -the pastry-cooks' boys are said to do, after the unrestricted gratification of -their tart-appetites, in the early days of their apprenticeship. Did she talk at -random with the mere idea of making things pleasant to her husband, and with the -knowledge that the mere fact of any expression of interest on her part in any -action of his would be more than appreciated? Not one whit. Marian never talked -at random, and knew her power sufficiently to be aware that there was no need -for the expression of any forced feeling where Mr. Creswell was concerned. The -fact was--and it was not the first time she had acknowledged it to herself, -though she had never before seen her way clearly to effect any alteration--the -fact was that she was bored out of her life. The golden apples of the -Hesperides, gained after so much trouble, so much lulling of the dragon of -conscience, had a smack of the Dead Sea fruit in them, after all! The money had -been obtained, and the position had been compassed, it was true; but what were -they? What good had she gathered from the money, beyond the fact of the mere -material comforts of house, and dress, and equipage? What was the position, but -that of wife of the leading man in the very narrow circle in which she had -always lived? She was the centre of the circle, truly; but the circle itself had -not enlarged. The elegant carriage, and the champing horses, and the obsequious -servants, were gratifying in their way; but there was but little satisfaction in -thinking that the sight of her enjoyment of them was confined to Jack Forman, -sunning himself at the ale-house door, and vacantly doffing his cap as homage to -her as she swept by, or to the villagers amongst whom she had been reared, who -ran to their doors as they heard the rumbling of the wheels, and returned to -their back parlours, envying her her state, it is true, but congratulating -themselves with the recollection of the ultimate fate of Dives in the parable, -and assuring each other that the difference of sex would have no material effect -on the great result. Dull, cruelly dull, that was all she could make of it, look -at it how she would. To people of their social status society in that -neighbourhood was infinitely more limited than to those in lower grades. An -occasional visit from, and an occasional dinner with, Sir Thomas and Lady -Churchill at the Park, or some of the richer and more influential Brocksopp -commercial magnates, comprised all their attempts at society. The rector of -Helmingham was a studious man, who cared little for heavy dinner-parties, and a -proud man, who would accept no hospitality which he could not return in an equal -way; and as for Dr. Osborne, he had been remarkably sparing of his visits to -Woolgreaves since his passage-of-arms with Mrs. Creswell. When he did call he -invariably addressed himself to Mr. Creswell, and did not in the least attempt -to conceal that his feelings had been wounded by Marian in a manner which no -lapse of time could heal.</p> - -<p>No! the fact was there: the money had been gained, but what it had brought -was utterly insufficient to Marian's requirements. The evil passion of ambition, -which had always been dormant in her, overpowered by the evil passion of -avarice, began, now that the cravings of its sister vice were appeased, to -clamour aloud and make itself heard. What good to a savage is the possession of -the gem of purest ray serene, when by his comrades a bit of glass or tinsel -would be equally prized and appreciated? What good was the possession of wealth -among the inhabitants of Helmingham and Brocksopp, by whom the Churchills of the -Park were held in far greater honour, as being--a statement which, though -religiously believed, was utterly devoid of foundation--of the "real owd stock"? -The notion of her husband's election to Parliament gave Marian new hopes and new -ideas. Unconsciously throughout her life she had lived upon excitement, and she -required it still. In what she had imagined wore merely humdrum days in the -bygone times she had had her excitement of plotting and scheming how to make -both ends meet, and of dreaming of the possible riches; then she had her love -affair, and there had flashed into her mind the great idea of her life, the -intention of establishing herself as mistress of Woolgreaves. All these things -were now played out; the riches had come, the old love was buried beneath them, -the position was attained. But the necessity for excitement remained, and there -was a chance for gratifying it. Marian was pining for society. What was the use -of her being clever, as she had always been considered, if the candle of her -talent were always to be hidden under the Brocksopp bushel? She longed to mix -with clever people, amongst whom she would be able to hold her own by her -natural gifts, and more than her own by her wealth. To be known in the London -world, with the entry into it which her husband's position would secure to her, -and then to distinguish herself there, that was the new excitement which Marian -Creswell craved, and day by day she recurred to the subject of the election, and -discussed its details with her husband, delighting him with the interest which -she showed in the scheme, and by the shrewd practical common sense which she -brought to bear upon it.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the relations existing between Mrs. Creswell and her recently -acquired connections, Maude and Gertrude, had not been placed on any more -satisfactory footing. They lived together under an armed truce rather than a -state of peace, seeing as little of each other as possible, Marian ignoring the -girls in every possible way, except when they were perforce brought under her -notice, and the girls studiously acting without reference to any supposed wishes -or ideas of Mrs. Creswell's. Mr. Creswell followed his wife's lead exactly; he -was so entirely wrapped up in her and her doings that he had no eye nor ear for -any one else, and he would probably have been very much astonished if he had -been told that a complete estrangement had taken place between him and the other -members of his family, and would positively have denied it. Such, however, was -the case. The girls, beyond seeing their uncle at meals, were left entirely to -their own devices; and it was, under the circumstances, fortunate for their -future that their past training had been such as it had been. Gertrude, indeed, -was perfectly happy; for although Mr. Benthall had not actually proposed to her, -there was a tacit understanding of engagement between them. He occasionally -visited at Woolgreaves, and during the summer they had met frequently at various -garden-parties in the neighbourhood; and Maude was as quiet and earnest and -self-contained as ever, busied in her work, delighting in her music, and, oddly -enough, having one thing in common with Mrs. Creswell--an interest in the -forthcoming election, of which she had heard from Mr. Benthall, who was a -violent politician of the Liberal school.</p> - -<p>One day the girls were sitting in the room which had been assigned to them on -the establishment of the boudoir, and which was a huge, lofty, and by no means -uncomfortable room, rendered additionally bright and cheerful by Gertrude's -tasty handiwork and clever arrangement. It was one of those close warm days -which come upon us suddenly sometimes, when the autumn has been deepening into -winter, and the reign of fires has commenced. The sun had been shining with much -of his old summer power, and the girls had been enjoying his warmth, and had let -the fire out, and left the door open, and had just suspended their -occupations--Maude had been copying music, and Gertrude letter-writing--owing to -the want of light, and were chatting previous to the summons of the dressing -bell.</p> - -<p>"Where is madam this afternoon, Maude?" asked Gertrude, after a little -silence.</p> - -<p>"Shut up in the library with uncle and Mr. Gould--that man who comes from -London about the election. I heard uncle send for her."</p> - -<p>"Lor', now, how odd!" said unsophisticated Gertrude; "she seems all of a -sudden to have taken great interest in this election thing."</p> - -<p>"Naturally enough, Gerty," said Maude. "Mrs. Creswell is one of the most -ambitious women in the world, and this 'election thing,' as you call it, is to -do her more good, and gain her higher position, than she ever dreamed of until -she heard of it."</p> - -<p>"What a curious girl you are, Maude! How you do think of things! What makes -you think that?"</p> - -<p>"Think it--I'm sure of it. I've noticed the difference in her manner, and the -way in which she has thrown herself into this question more than any other since -her marriage, and brought all her brains--and she has plenty--to uncle's help. -Poor dear uncle!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, poor dear uncle! Do you think madam really cares for him?"</p> - -<p>"Cares for him? Yes, as a stepping-stone for herself, as a means to the end -she requires."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Maude, how dreadful! But you know what I mean; do you think she loves -him--you know?"</p> - -<p>"My dear Gerty, Marian Ashurst never loved anybody but one, and--"</p> - -<p>"Ah, I know who you mean; that man who kept the school--no, not kept the -school, was usher to Mr. Ashurst--Mr.--Joyce: that was it. She was fond of him, -wasn't she?"</p> - -<p>"She was engaged to him, if the report we heard was true; but as to fond of -him--the only person Marian Ashurst ever cared for was--Marian Ashurst!--Who's -there?"</p> - -<p>A figure glided past the open door, dimly seen in the waning light. But there -was no response, and Gertrude's remark of "Only one of the servants" was almost -drowned in the clanging summons of the dinner-bell.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE OPPORTUNITY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Bokenham did not improve in the estimation either of the constituency of -Brocksopp, or of those in London who had the guidance of electioneering matters -in the borough in the Liberal interest. The aspiring candidate was tolerably -amenable at first, went down as often as the policy of such a course was -suggested to him, and visited all the people whose names were on the list with -which he was supplied; though his objectionable manner, and his evident lack of -real interest in the place and its inhabitants, militated very much against his -success. But after a little time he neglected even these slight means for -cultivating popularity. A young man, with an excellent income, and with the -prospect of a very large fortune on his father's death, has very little trouble -in getting into such society as would be most congenial to him, more especially -when that society is such as is most affected by the classes which he apes. -Young Mr. Bokenham, whose chief desire in life was, as his sharp-seeing, -keen-witted old father said of him, to "sink the shop," laid himself out -especially for the company of men of birth and position, and he succeeded in -hooking himself on to one of the fastest and most raffish sets in London. The -fact that he was a <i>novus homo</i>,and that his father was "in trade," which -had caused him to be held up to ridicule at Eton, and had rendered men shy of -knowing him at Christchurch, had, he was delighted to perceive, no such effect -in the great city. He began with a few acquaintances picked up in public, but, -he speedily enlarged and improved his connection. The majors, with the -billiard-table brevet, the captains, and the shabby old bucks of St. Alban's -Place, with whom Tommy Bokenham at first consorted, were soon renounced for men -of a widely different stamp, so far as birth and breeding were concerned, but -with much the same tastes, and more means and opportunities of gratifying them. -It is probable that Mr. Bokenham owed his introduction among these scions of the -upper circles to a notion, prevalent among a certain section of them, that he -might be induced to plunge into the mysteries of the turf, and to bet largely, -even if he did not undertake a racing establishment. But they were entirely -wrong. Young Tommy had not sufficient physical go and pluck in him for anything -that required energy; he commanded his position in the set in which, to his -great delight, at length he found himself, by giving elaborate dinners and -occasionally lending money in moderate amounts, in return for which he was -allowed to show himself in public in the company of his noble acquaintances, and -was introduced by them to certain of their male and female friends, the latter -of whom were especially frank and demonstrative in their reception and welcome -of him.</p> - -<p>The fascination of this kind of life, which began to dawn on young Mr. -Bokenham almost concurrently with the idea of his standing for the borough of -Brocksopp, soon proved to be incompatible with the proper discharge of the -duties required of him as candidate. He found the necessity for frequent visits -to his intended constituents becoming more and more of a nuisance to him, and -entirely declined a suggestion which was made to the effect that now, as the -time of the election was so near at hand, it would be advisable for him to take -up his residence at his father's house, and give his undivided attention to his -canvassing. It was pointed out to him that his opponent, Mr. Creswell, was -always on the spot, and, quite unexpectedly, had recently shown the greatest -interest in the forthcoming struggle, and was availing himself of every means in -his power to insure his success; but Tommy Bokenham refused to "bury himself at -Brocksopp," as he phrased it, until it was absolutely necessary. "It is -positively cruel," wrote Mr. Harrington, a clever young clerk, who had been -despatched by his principals, Messrs. Potter and Fyfe, the great parliamentary -agents, to report how matters were progressing in the borough, "to see how Mr. -B. is cutting out the running for the other side! I've had a talk with South, -the attorney, who is acting for us down here, a shrewd, sensible fellow, and he -says there is every hope of our pulling through, even as we are, but that if we -had only brought another kind of man to the post, our success would be a moral." -Old Mr. Potter, a very rigid old gentleman residing at Clapham, and deacon of a -chapel there, growled very much, both over the matter and the manner of this -communication.</p> - -<p>"What does this young man mean," he asked, peering over the paper at his -partner through his double glasses, "by using this turf slang? Bring a man to -the 'post!' and a 'moral' indeed!--a word I should not have expected to find in -this gentleman's vocabulary." But Mr. Fyfe, who had a sneaking liking for sport, -appeased the old gentleman, and pointed out that the letter, though oddly -worded, was really full of good and reliable information, and that young -Harrington had executed his commission cleverly. Both partners shook their heads -over this further account of their candidate's shortcomings, and decided that -some immediate steps must be taken to retrieve their position. The time of -election was imminent; their opponent was resident, indefatigable, and popular; -and though the report from Harrington spoke of ultimate success with almost -certainty, it would not do to run the smallest risk in a borough which they had -pledged their credit to wrest from Tory domination.</p> - -<p>Messrs. Potter and Fyfe were not likely men to ventilate in public any -opinions which they may have held regarding the business matters on which they -were employed, but the inattention of Mr. Bokenham to his duties, and the manner -in which he was throwing away his chances began to be talked of at the <i>Comet</i> -office, and the news of it even penetrated to Jack Byrne's little club. It was -on the day after he had first heard of it that the old man walked up to Joyce's -chambers, and on entering found his friend at home, and glad to see him. After a -little desultory conversation, old Byrne began to talk of the subject with which -he was filled.</p> - -<p>"Have you heard anything lately of that man who was going to contest your old -quarters, or thereabouts, for us, Walter? What's his name? Bokenham! that's it," -he said.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes," answered Joyce, "oddly enough, they were talking of him last night -at the office. I went into O'Connor's room just as Forrest, who had come down -with some not very clearly defined story from the Reform, was suggesting a -slashing article with the view of what he called 'rousing to action' this very -young man. O'Connor pooh-poohed the notion and put Forrest off; but from what he -said to me afterwards, I imagine Mr. Bokenham is scarcely the man for the -emergency--a good deal too lukewarm and dilettante. They won't stand that sort -of thing in Brocksopp, and it's a point with our party, and especially with me, -that Brocksopp should be won."</p> - -<p>"Especially with you," repeated the old man; "ay, ay, I mind you saying that -before! That's strong reaction from the old feeling, Walter!"</p> - -<p>"Strong but not unnatural, I think. You, to whom I told the story when I -first knew you, will remember what my feelings were towards--towards that lady. -You will remember how entirely I imagined my life bound up in hers, my happiness -centred on all she might say or do. You saw what happened--how she flung me -aside at the very first opportunity, with scant ceremony and shallow excuses, -careless what effect her treachery might have had upon me."</p> - -<p>"It was all for the best, lad, as it turned out."</p> - -<p>"As it turned out, yes! But how did she know that, when she did it? Had she -known that it would have turned out for the worst, for the very worst, would she -have stayed her hand and altered her purpose? Not she."</p> - -<p>"I don't like to see you vindictive, boy; recollect she's a woman, and that -once you were fond of her."</p> - -<p>"I am not vindictive, as I take it; and when I think of her treatment of me, -the recollection that I was fond of her is not very likely to have a softening -effect. See here, old friend: in cold blood, and with due deliberation, Marian -Ashurst extinguished what was then the one light in my sufficiently dreary life. -Fortune has given me the chance, I think, of returning the compliment, and I -intend to do it."</p> - -<p>Jack Byrne turned uneasily in his chair; it was evident that his sentiments -were not in accord with those of his friend. After a minute's pause he said, -"Even supposing that the old eye-for-eye and tooth-for-tooth retribution were -allowable--which I am by no means disposed to grant, especially where women are -concerned--are you quite sure that in adopting it you are getting at what you -wish to attain? You have never said so, but it must be as obvious to you as it -is to me that Mrs. Creswell does not care for her husband. Do you think, then, -she will be particularly influenced by a matter in which his personal vanity is -alone involved?"</p> - -<p>Joyce smiled somewhat grimly. "My dear old friend, it was Mrs. Creswell's -ambition that dealt me what might have been my <i>coup de grâce</i>.My anxiety -about this contest at grimly springs from my desire to wound Mrs. Creswell's -ambition. My knowledge of that lady is sufficient to prove to me, as clearly as -though I were in her most sacred confidence, that she is most desirous that her -husband should be returned to Parliament. The few words that were dropped by -that idiot Bokenham the other day pointed to this, but I should have been sure -of it if I had not heard them. After all, it is the natural result, and what -might have been expected. During her poverty her prayer was for money. Money -acquired, another want takes its place, and so it will be to the -end of the chapter."</p> - -<p>As Joyce ceased speaking there was a knock at the door, and Jack Byrne -opening it, admitted young Mr. Harrington, the confidential clerk of Messrs. -Potter and Fyfe. Young Mr. Harrington was festively attired in a garb of -sporting cut, and wore his curved-rimmed hat on the top of his right ear; but -there was an unusual, anxious look in his face, and he showed signs of great -mental perturbation, not having, as he afterwards allowed to his intimate -friends, "been so thoroughly knocked out of time since Magsman went a mucker for -the Two Thou'." This perturbation was at once noticed by Mr. Byrne.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Mr. Harrington," said he; "glad to see you, sir. Not looking quite so -fresh as usual," he added, with a cynical grin. "What's the matter--nothing -wrong in the great turf world, I trust? Sister to Saucebox has not turned out a -roarer, or Billy Billingsgate broken down badly?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you very much for your kind inquiries, Mr. Byrne," said Mr. -Harrington, eyeing the old man steadily, without changing a muscle of his face. -"I'll not forget to score up one to you, sir, and I'll take care to repay you -that little funniment on the first convenient opportunity. Just now I've got -something else in hand. Look here, let's stow this gaff! Mr. Joyce, my business -is with you. The fact is, there is an awful smash-up at Brocksopp, and my -governors want to see you at once."</p> - -<p>"At Brocksopp?" said Joyce, with a start. "A smash at Brocksopp?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mr. Harrington. "The man that we were all depending on, young Mr. -Bokenham, has come to grief."</p> - -<p>"Dead?" exclaimed old Byrne.</p> - -<p>"Oh no, not at all; political rather than social grief, I should have said. -The fact is, so far as we can make out, Lord and Lady Steppe--you know Lady -Steppe, Mr. Joyce, or, at all events, your friend Shimmer of the <i>Comet</i> -could tell you all about her: she was Miss Tentose in the ballet at the -Lane--have persuaded our sucking senator to go to Egypt with them for the -winter. Lady S.'s influence is great in that quarter, I understand--so great -that he pitches up Brocksopp, and let's us all slide!"</p> - -<p>"Given up Brocksopp?" said old Byrne.</p> - -<p>"Chucked up his cards, sir," said Harrington, "when the game was in his hand. -My governors' people are regularly up a tree, cornered, and all that; so they -want to see you, Mr. Joyce, at once, and have sent me to fetch you."</p> - -<p>"To fetch him! Potter and Fyfe, of Abingdon Street, have sent you to fetch -him" cried old Byrne, in great excitement. "Walter, do you think--do you -recollect what I said to you some time ago? Can it be that it's coming on now?"</p> - -<p>Joyce made no verbal reply, but he grasped his old friend's hand warmly, and -immediately afterwards started off with Mr. Harrington in the hansom cab which -that gentleman had waiting at the door.</p> - -<p> -The idea that had flashed through old Jack Byrne's mind, preposterously -exaggerated as it had at first seemed to him, was nevertheless correct. When -Joyce arrived at Messrs. Potter and Fyfe's office, he found there not merely -those gentlemen, but with them several of the leading members of the party, and -a deputation of two or three Liberals from Brocksopp, with whom Joyce was -acquainted. Mr. Moule and Mr. Spalding, nervously excited, stepped forwards and -shook hands with the young man in a jerky kind of manner. Immediately -afterwards, backing again towards their chairs, on the extremest edge of which -they propped themselves, they hid their hands in their coat-sleeves, and looked -round in a furtive manner.</p> - -<p>After a few formal speeches, Mr. Potter proceeded at once to business. -Addressing Joyce, he said it was probably known to him that the gentleman on -whom they had hitherto depended as a candidate for Brocksopp had thrown them -over, and at the eleventh hour had left them to seek for another representative. -In a few well-chosen and diplomatically rounded sentences, Mr. Potter pointed -out that the task that Mr. Bokenham had imposed upon them was by no means so -difficult a one as might have been imagined. Mr. Potter would not, he said, -indulge in any lengthened speech. His business was simply to explain the wishes -of those for whom he and his partner had the honour to act--here he looked -towards the leaders of the party, who did not attempt to disguise the fact that -they were growing rather bored by the Potterian eloquence--and those wishes -were, in so many words, that Mr. Joyce should step into the place which Mr. -Bokenham had left vacant.</p> - -<p>One of the leaders of the party here manifesting an intention of having -something to say, and wishing to say it, Mr. Fyfe promptly interposed with the -remark that he should be able to controvert an assertion, which he saw his young -friend Mr. Joyce about to make, to the effect that he would be unable to carry -on the contest for want of means. He, Mr. Fyfe, was empowered to assert that old -Mr. Bokenham was so enraged at his son's defalcation, which he believed to have -been mainly brought about by Tory agency, Lord Steppe's father, the Earl of -Stair, being a notoriously bigoted Blue, that he was prepared to guarantee the -expenses of any candidate approved of by the party and by the town. Mr. Fyfe -here pausing to take breath, the leader, who had been previously baulked, cut in -with a neat expression of the party's approval of Mr. Joyce, and Mr. Spalding -murmured a few incoherent words to the effect that during a life-long -acquaintance with his young friend the people of Brocksopp had been in entire -ignorance that he had anything in him, politically or otherwise, beyond -book-learning, and that was the main reason for their wishing him to represent -them in Parliament.</p> - -<p>Although a faint dawning of the truth had come across him when Mr. Harrington -announced young Bokenham's defection, Walter Joyce had no definite idea of the -honour in store for him. Very modestly, and in very few words, he accepted the -candidature, promising to use every exertion for the attainment of success. He -was too much excited and overcome to enter into any elaborate discussion at that -time. All he could do was to thank the leading members of the party for their -confidence, to inform the parliamentary-agent firm that he would wait upon them -the next day, and to assure Messrs. Spalding and Moule that the Liberals of -Brocksopp would find him among them immediately. Did Walter Joyce falter for one -instant in the scheme of retribution which he had foreshadowed, now that he was -to be its exponent, now that the vengeance which he had anticipated was to be -worked out by himself? No! On the contrary, he was more satisfied in being able -to assure himself of the edge of the weapon, and of the strength of the arm by -which the blow should be dealt.</p> - -<p> -"We calculated too soon upon the effect of young Bokenham's escapade, darling," -said Mr. Creswell to his wife, on his return after a day in Brocksopp. "The -field is by no means to be left clear to us. The walls of the town are blazing -with the placards of a new candidate in the Liberal interest--a clever man, I -believe--who is to have all the elder Bokenham's backing, and who, from previous -connection, may probably have certain local interests of his own."</p> - -<p>"Previous connection--local interest? Who can it be?" asked Marian.</p> - -<p>"An old acquaintance of yours, I should imagine; at least, the name is -familiar to me in connection with your father and the old days of Helmingham -school. The signature to the address is 'Walter Joyce.'"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> -<h5>CANVASSING.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Splendid as was the opportunity just offered to Walter Joyce by the -parliamentary agents, it is more than probable that he would have declined to -profit by it had the scene of action been laid anywhere else than in Brocksopp, -and his opponent been any one other than Mr. Creswell. Although utterly changed -from the usher in a country school, who was accustomed to take life as it -came,--or indeed from the young man who, when he obtained Lord Hetherington's -private secretaryship, looked upon himself as settled for life,--Joyce had even -now scarcely any ambition, in the common acceptation of the word. To most men -brought up as he had been, membership of parliament would have meant London life -in good society, excellent station of one's own, power of dispensing patronage -and conferring favours on others, and very excellent opportunity for getting -something pleasant and remunerative for one's self, when the chance offered. To -Walter Joyce it meant the acceptance of a sacred trust, to the proper discharge -and fulfilment of which all his energies were pledged by the mere fact of his -acceptance of the candidature. Not, indeed, that he had ever had any thoughts of -relinquishing his recently acquired profession, the press; he looked to that as -his sole means of support; but he felt that should he be successful in obtaining -a seat in the House, his work would be worth a great deal more than it bad -hitherto been, and he should be able to keep his income at the same amount while -he devoted half of the time thus saved to his political duties.</p> - -<p>But being, as has been said, thoroughly happy in his then career, Joyce would -never have thought of entertaining the proposition made to him through the -medium of Messrs. Potter and Fyfe had it not been for the desire of revenging -himself on Marian Creswell by opposing to the last, and, if possible, in every -honourable way, by defeating, her husband. Joyce felt perfectly certain that Mr. -Creswell--quiet, easy-going old gentleman as he had been of late years, and more -likely than ever to be disinclined to leave his retirement and do battle in the -world since his son's death--was a mere puppet in the hands of his wife, whose -ambition had prompted her to make her husband seek the honour, and whose vanity -would be deeply wounded at his failure. Walter Joyce's personal vanity was also -implicated in the result, and he certainly would not have accepted the overtures -had there not been a good chance of success; but Mr. Harrington, who, out of his -business, was a remarkably sharp, shrewd, and farseeing man of the world and of -business, spoke very positively on this point, and declared their numbers were -so strong, and the popular excitement so great in their favour, that they could -scarcely fail of success, provided they had the right man to bring forward. To -win the day against her; to show her that the man she basely rejected and put -aside was preferred, in a great struggle, to the man she had chosen; that the -position which she had so coveted for her husband, and towards the attainment of -which she had brought into play all the influence of her wit and his money, had -been snatched from her by the poor usher whom she had found good enough to play -with in her early days, but who was thrust aside, his fidelity and devotion -availing him nothing, directly a more eligible opportunity offered itself--that -would be sweet indeed! Yes, his mind was made up; he would use all his energies -for the prosecution of the scheme: it should be war to the knife between him and -Marian Creswell.</p> - -<p>Joyce's manner was so thorough and so hearty, his remarks were so practical, -and his spirits so high, when he called on Messrs. Potter and Fyfe on the next -day, that those gentlemen were far better pleased with him, and far more -sanguine of his popularity and consequent success at Brocksopp, than they had -been after the first interview. Modesty and self-depreciation were qualities -very seldom seen, and very little esteemed, in the parliamentary agents' offices -in Abingdon Street. The opinion of the head of the firm was that Walter wanted -"go;" and it was only owing to the strenuous Interposition of Mr. Harrington, -who knew Joyce's writings, and had more than once heard him speak in public, -that they did not openly bemoan their choice and proceed to look out for -somebody else. This, however, they did not do; neither did they mention their -doubts to the deputation from Brocksopp, the members of which did not, indeed, -give them time to do so, had they been so inclined, clearing out so soon as the -interview was over, and harking back to the Tavistock Hotel, in Covent Garden, -there to eat enormous dinners, and thence to sally forth for the enjoyment of -those festivities in which our provincials so much delight, and the -reminiscences of which serve for discussion for months afterwards. The -parliamentary agents were very glad of their reticence the next day. The young -man's heartiness and high spirits seemed contagious; the sound of laughter, a -phenomenon in Abingdon Street, was heard by Mr. Harrington to issue from "the -governors' room;" and old Mr. Potter forgot so far the staid dignity of a -chapel-deacon as to clap Walter Joyce on the back, and wish him luck. Joyce was -going down on his first canvass to Brocksopp by himself; he would not take any -one with him, not even Mr. Harrington; he was much obliged to them; he knew -something of Mr. South, the local Liberal agent (he laughed inwardly as he said -this, remembering how he used to look upon Mr. South as a tremendous gun), and -he had no doubt they would get on very well together.</p> - -<p>"You know South, Mr. Joyce?" said Mr. Fyfe; "what a very curious thing! I -should have thought that old South's celebrity was entirely local, or at all -events confined to the county."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless it is," replied Joyce; "but then you know I----"</p> - -<p>"Ah! I forgot," interrupted Mr. Fyfe. "You have some relations with the -place. Yes, yes, I heard! By the way, then, I suppose you know your opponent, -Mr. Kerswill--Creswell--what's his name?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I remember Mr. Creswell perfectly; but he never saw much of me, and -I should scarcely think would recollect me!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! you'll excuse me, my dear sir," Mr. Fyfe added, after a short pause; -"but of course there's no necessity to impress upon you the importance of -courtesy towards your opponent--I mean Kerswill. You're certain to meet on the -hustings; and most probably, in a swellish place like Brocksopp, you'll be -constantly running across each other in the streets while you're on your -canvass. Then, courtesy, my dear sir, before everything else!"</p> - -<p>"You need not be afraid, Mr. Fyfe," said Joyce, smiling; "I shall be -perfectly courteous to Mr. Creswell."</p> - -<p>"Of course you will, my dear sir; of course you will! Mustn't think it odd in -me to suggest it; part of my business to point these things out when I'm -coaching a candidate; and necessary too, deuced necessary sometimes, though you -wouldn't think it. Less than six months ago, when poor Wiggington was lost in -his yacht in the Mediterranean--you remember?--we sent down a man to stand for -his borough. Lord---- No! I won't tell you his name; but the eldest son of an -earl. The other side sent down a man too--a brewer, or a maltster, or something -of that kind; but a deucedly gentlemanly fellow. They met on their canvass, -these two, just as you and Kerswill might; and this man, like a gentleman, took -off his hat. What did our man do? Stopped still, stuck his glass in his eye, and -stared; never bowed, never moved; give you my word. Had to withdraw him at once; -his committee stood by and saw it, and wouldn't act for him any more. 'Lordship -be damned!' that's what they said. Strong language, but that's what they said; -give you my word. Had to withdraw him, too late to find another man; so our -people lost the seat."</p> - -<p>The first thing that astonished Joyce on his arrival at Brocksopp was the -sight of his own name printed in large letters on flaming placards, and affixed -in all the conspicuous places of the town. He had not given consideration to -this sudden notoriety, and his first realisation of it was in connection with -the thought of the effect it would have on Marian, who must have seen it; her -husband must have told her of the name of his opponent; she must have been -certain that it was not a person of similar name, but her discarded lover -himself who was waging battle against her, and attacking her husband in the -stronghold which he might have even considered safe. She would know the -sentiments which had prompted him in leaving her last letter unanswered, in -taking no notice of her since the avowal of her perfidy. Up to this time she -might have pictured him to herself as ever bewailing her loss--as would have -been the case had she been taken from him by death--as the prey of despair. Now -she must know him as actuated by feelings far stronger and sterner; he was -prepared to do battle to the death. This feeling was pre-eminent above all -others; this desire for revenge, this delight at the occasion which had been -offered him for lowering the pride and thwarting the designs of the woman who -had done him such great wrong. He never faltered in his intention for a moment; -he abated his scheming not one jot. He had some idea on the journey down to -Brocksopp that perhaps the old reminiscences, which would naturally be kindled -by the sight of the familiar scenes among which he would soon find himself, and -of the once familiar faces by which he would be surrounded, would have a -softening effect on his anger, and perhaps somewhat shake his determination. But -on experience he did not find it so. As yet he had religiously kept away from -the neighbourhood of Helmingham; he thought it better taste to do so, and his -duties in canvassing had not called him thither. He had quite enough to do in -calling on the voters resident in Brocksopp.</p> - -<p>As Walter Joyce had not been to Helmingham, the village folk, who in their -old-fashioned way were oddly punctilious, thought it a point of etiquette not to -call upon him, though such as were politically of his way of thinking took care -to let him know he might reckon on their support; and of all the people whom -Walter had been in the habit of seeing almost daily in the village, Jack Forman, -the ne'er-do-weel, was the only one who came over expressly to Brocksopp for the -purpose of visiting his old friend. It was not so much friendship as constant -thirst that prompted Jack's visit; he had been in the habit of looking on -elections as institutions for the gratuitous supply of ale and spirits, -extending more or less over the term of a month, to all who chose to ask for -them, and hitherto he had been greatly disappointed in not finding his name on -the free list of the Helmingham taverns. So it was well worth Jack's while to -spend a day in staggering over to Brocksopp, and on his arrival he met with a -very kind reception from Walter, sufficiently kind to enable him to bear up -against the black looks and ill-suppressed growls of Mr. South, who, in his -capacity of clerk to the magistrates, only knew Jack as a bit of a poacher, and -a great deal of a drunkard.</p> - -<p>Immediately on his arrival in Brocksopp, and after one or two preliminary -interviews with Mr. South, who, as he imagined, had forgotten all about him, and -was much struck by his knowledge of neighbouring persons and localities, Joyce -proceeded with his canvass, and after a very brief experience felt that Mr. -Harrington had not taken too rose-coloured a view of his chance of success. -Although to most of the electors of Brocksopp he was personally unknown, and -though such as remembered his father held him in recollection only as a sour, -cross-grained man, with a leaning towards "Methodee" and a suspicion of avarice, -the fact that Walter was not an entire stranger had great influence with many of -the electors, and his appearance and manner won him troops of friends. They -liked his frank face and hearty demeanour, they felt that he was eminently -"thorough," the lack of which quality had been the chief ground of complaint -against young Bokenham, and they delighted in his lucid argument and terse way -of laying a question before them and driving it home to their understanding. In -this he had the advantage of his opponent; and many waverers, with undefined -political opinions, who attended the public meetings of both parties, were won -over to Joyce's side by the applause with which his speeches were received, and -by the feeling that a man who could produce such an effect on his hearers must -necessarily be a clever man, and the right person to be sent by them to -Parliament. The fact was allowed even by his opponents. Mr. Teesdale wrote up to -Mr. Gould that things were anything but bright, that the new man was amazingly -popular, and quite young, which was not a bad thing when great exertion was -required; that he was, moreover, a clever, rapid, forcible speaker, and seemed -to be leaving their man very much behind. And old Croke, who had been induced to -attend a meeting convened by the Liberals, and who, though for respectability's -sake he had made no open disturbance, had been dreadfully shocked at the -doctrines which he had heard, not merely promulgated, but loudly applauded, was -afterwards compelled to confess to a select few at the Lion that the manner, if -not the matter of Walter Joyce's speech was excellent. "Our squire," he said, -"speaks like a gen'alman as he is, soft and quiet like, on and on like the -droppin' o' watter, but this un du screw it into you hard and fast; and not -content wi' drivin' on it home, he rivets un on t'other side."</p> - -<p>Electioneering matters in Brocksopp wore a very different aspect to that -which they had borne a short time previously. Mr. Teesdale had seen from the -beginning that the candidature of young Mr. Bokenham was not likely to be very -dangerous to his opponent, however liberally he might be backed by his indulgent -father. The local agent, who had lived all his life among the Brocksoppians, was -quite aware that they required a man who would at all events pretend to be in -earnest, whichever suffrages he courted, and his keen eyes told him at the first -glance that young Tommy was a vacillating, purposeless pleasure-lover, who would -command no confidence, and receive but few votes. When the Bokenham escapade -took place Mr. Teesdale telegraphed the news to his principal, Mr. Gould, and in -writing to him on the same subject by the next post said, "It is exactly what I -always anticipated of young B., though his friends did not apparently see it. I -think it will be a shock to the L.'s, and should not be surprised if our man had -a walk-over." Mr. Teesdale was essentially a country gentleman, and though he -thought Mr. Harrington a "turfy cad," saw no harm in occasionally employing a -sporting phrase, even in his business. But now all was altered; the appearance -of Walter Joyce upon the scene, the manner in which he was backed, his -gentlemanly conduct and excellent speaking had an immediate and extraordinary -effect. The Tory influence under Sir George Kent had been so all-powerful for -many years, that all thoughts of a contest had, been abandoned, and there were -scores of men, farmers and manufacturers, on the register, who had never taken -the trouble to record their vote. To the astonishment and dismay of Mr. -Teesdale, most of them on being waited on in Mr. Creswell's interest, declared -that their leanings were more towards Liberalism than Conservatism, and that now -they had the chance of returning a candidate who would do them credit and be a -proper advocate of their views, they should certainly give him their support. -The fact, too, that Joyce was a self-made man told immensely in his favour, -especially with the manufacturing classes. Mr. Harrington, who had paid a couple -of flying visits to the town, had possessed himself of certain portions of -Walter's family history, and disseminated them in such quarters as he thought -would be advantageous.</p> - -<p>"Father were grocer in village hard by!" they would repeat to one another in -wonder, "and this young un stuck to his buke, and so crammed his head wi' -lurnin' that he's towt tu three Lards up in London, and writes in -newspapers--think o' that now!" It was in vain that Mr. Teesdale, when he heard -of the success of his opponent's move, went about pointing out that Mr. Creswell -was not only a self-made man, having risen from nothing to his then eminence, -but that all the money which he had made was engaged in the employment and -development of labour. The argument was sound, but it did not seem to have the -same effect; whatever it was, it had the same result, a decided preference for -Mr. Joyce as against Mr. Creswell, amongst those who, possessing votes, had -hitherto declined to use them.</p> - -<p>But there was another class which it was necessary to propitiate, and with -which Mr. Teesdale was afraid he stood but little chance. Many of the "hands" -had obtained votes since the last election, and intended making use of their -newly acquired prerogative. There was no fear of their not voting; the only -question was on which side they would cast the preponderance of their influence. -This was soon seen. Naturally they were inclined to support Walter Joyce, but -whatever lingering doubts they may have had were dispelled as soon as Jack Byrne -appeared upon the scene, and, despite of Joyce's protests, determined on -remaining to assist in the canvass. "Why not?" said Jack; "let me have my way. -I'm an old man now, lad, and haven't so many fancies that I mayn't indulge one -now and again. The business suffer!" he said, in reply to something that Walter -had said; "the business, indeed! You know well enough that the bird-stuffing now -is a mere pretext--a mere something that I keep for my 'idle hands to do,' and -that it's no necessity, thank the Lord! So let me bide here, lad, and aid in the -good work. I think I may be of use among a few of them yet." And he was right. -Not merely was the old man's name known and venerated among the older "hands," -as one of the "martyrs of '48," but his quaint caustic tongue made him an -immense favourite with the younger men; and soon there were no meetings brought -to a close without loud demands for a "bit speech" from Jack Byrne.</p> - -<p>Nor was it amongst the farmer and manufacturing classes alone that Mr. Joyce -received pledges of support. Several of the neighbouring county gentry and -clergy, who had hung back during Mr. Bokenham's candidature, enrolled themselves -on the committee of the new-comer; and one of his most active adherents was Mr. -Benthall. It was not until after due deliberation, and much weighing of pros and -cons, that the head-master of Helmingham Grammar School took this step; but he -smiled when he had thoroughly made up his mind, and muttered something to -himself about its being "a shot for madam in more ways than one." When he had -decided he was by no means underhand in his conduct, but went straight to Mr. -Creswell, taking the opportunity of catching him away from home and alone, and -told him that the Benthall family had been staunch Liberals for generations; and -that, however much he might regret being opposed in politics to a gentleman for -whom he entertained such a profound esteem and regard, he could not forswear the -family political faith. Mr. Creswell made him a polite reply, and forthwith -forgot all about it; and Marian, though she was in the habit of questioning her -husband pretty closely at the end of each day as to the progress he had made, -looked upon Mr. Benthall's vote as so perfectly secure that she never asked -about the matter.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the favourable reception which he met with everywhere, and -the success which seemed invariably to attend him in his canvass, Joyce found it -very heavy work. The constant excitement soon began to tell upon him, and the -absurdity of the questions sometimes asked, or the pledges occasionally required -of him, irritated him so much that he began to inquire of himself whether he was -really wise in going through with the affair, and whether he was not paying a -little too dearly even for that revenge for which he had longed, and which was -almost within his grasp. His fidelity to the cause to which he had pledged -himself would doubtless have caused him to smother these murmurings without any -extraneous aid; but just at that time he had an adventure which at once put an -end to all doubt on the subject.</p> - -<p>One bright wintry morning he arose at the hotel with the determination to -take a day's rest from his labours, and to endeavour to recruit himself by a -little quiet and fresh air. He had been up late the previous night at a very -large meeting of his supporters, the largest as yet gathered together, which he -had addressed with even more than wonted effect. He felt that he was speaking -more forcibly than usual; he could not tell why, he did not even know what -prompted him; but he felt it. It could not have been the presence of the -parliamentary agent, Mr. Fyfe, who had come down from London to see bow his -young friend was getting on, and who was really very much astonished at his -young friend's eloquence. Walter Joyce was speaking of the way in which the -opposite party had, when in power, broken the pledges they had given, and -laughed to scorn the promises they had made when seeking power, and in dilating -upon it he used a personal illustration, comparing the voters to a girl who had -been jilted and betrayed by her lover, who had been unexpectedly raised to -riches. Unconsciously fired by his own experience, he displayed a most forcible -and highly wrought picture of the despair of the girl and the villainy of the -man, and roused his audience to a perfect storm of enthusiasm. No one who heard -him, as he thought, except Jack Byrne, had the least inkling of his story, or of -its effect upon his eloquence; but the "hands" were immensely touched and -delighted, and the effect was electrical. Walter went home thoroughly knocked -up, and the next morning the reaction had set in. He felt it impossible to -attend to business, sent messages to Mr. Fyfe and to Byrne, telling them they -must get on without him for the day, and, after a slight breakfast, hurried out -of the hotel by the back way. There were always plenty of loafers and idlers -hanging round all sides of the house, eager to stare at him, to prefer a -petition to him, or to point him out to their friends; but this morning he was -lucky enough to escape them, and, thanks to his knowledge of the locality, to -strike upon an unfrequented path, which soon took him clear of the town and -brought him to the open fields.</p> - -<p>He had forgotten the direction in which the path led, or he would most -probably have avoided it and chosen some other, for there lay Helmingham village -directly before him. Hitherto he had carefully avoided even looking towards it, -but there it was, under his eyes. At some distance it is true, but still -sufficiently near for him, with his knowledge of the place, to recognise every -outline. There, away on the horizon, was the schoolhouse; there the church; -there, dipping down towards the middle of the High Street, the house which had -been so long his father's. What years ago it seemed! There were alterations, -too; several newly built houses, a newly made road leading, he supposed, to -Woolgreaves. Woolgreaves! he could not see the house, he was thankful for that, -but he overlooked a portion of the grounds from where he stood, and saw the sun -reflected from much sparkling glass, evidently conservatories of recent -erection. "She's spending the price for which she sold me!" he muttered to -himself.</p> - -<p>He crossed a couple of fields, clambered over a hedge, and jumped down into -the newly made road which he had noticed, intending, after pursuing it a short -distance, to strike across, leaving Woolgreaves on his right, and make for -Helmingham. He could roam about the outskirts of the old place without -attracting attention and without any chance of meeting with her. He had gone but -a very little way when he heard a sharp, clear, silvery tinkling of little -bells, then the noise of horse-hoofs on the hard, dry road, and presently came -in sight a little low carriage, drawn by a very perfect pair of iron-gray -ponies, and driven by a lady dressed in a sealskin cloak and a coquettish -sealskin hat. He knew her in an instant. Marian!</p> - -<p>While he was deliberating what to do, whether to remain where he was or jump -the hedge and disappear, before he could take any action the pony carriage had -neared him, and the ponies were stopped by his side. She had seen him in the -distance, and recognised him too; he knew that by the flush that overspread her -usually pale face. She was looking bright and well, and far handsomer than he -ever remembered her. He had time to notice all that in one glance, before she -spoke.</p> - -<p>"I am glad of this accidental meeting, Mr. Joyce!" she said, with the -slightest tremor in her voice, "for though I had made up my mind to see you I -did not see the opportunity."</p> - -<p>Walter merely bowed.</p> - -<p>"Do you mind walking with me for five minutes? I'll not detain you longer." -Walter bowed again. "Thank you very much. James, follow with the ponies." She -stepped out of the carriage with perfect grace and dignity, just touching with -the tips of her fingers the arm which Walter, half in spite of himself, held -out.</p> - -<p>"You will not expect me to act any part in this matter, Mr. Joyce," she said, -after a moment's pause. "I mean to make no pretence of being astonished at -finding you here, in direct opposition to me and mine!"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed! that would be time wasted, Mrs. Creswell," said Walter, speaking -for the first time. "Opposition to you and yours is surely the thing most likely -to be expected in me."</p> - -<p>"Exactly! Although at first I scarcely thought you would take the breaking -off of our relations in the way you did, I guessed it when you did not write; I -knew it, of course, when you started here, but I was never so certain of your -feelings in regard to me as I was last night."</p> - -<p>"Last night?"</p> - -<p>"Last night! I was present at the Mechanics' Institute, sitting in the -gallery with my maid and her brother as escort. I had heard much of your -eloquence, and wanted to be convinced. It seems I selected a specially good -occasion. You were particularly scathing."</p> - -<p>"I spoke what I felt----"</p> - -<p>"No doubt; you could not have spoken so without having felt all you -described, so that I can completely imagine how you feel towards me. But you are -a sensible man, as well as a good speaker, and that is why I have determined to -apply to you."</p> - -<p>"What do you want, Mrs. Creswell?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to go out of this place, Mr. Joyce; to take your name off the -walls, and your candidature out of the county! I want you to give up your -opposition to my husband. You are too strong for him--you personally; not your -cause, but you. We know that; the last three days have convinced everybody of -that, and you'll win the election if you stop."</p> - -<p>Joyce laughed aloud. "I know I shall," he said, his eyes gleaming.</p> - -<p>"What then?" said Marian, quietly. "Do you know what a poor member of -Parliament is, 'hanging on' at every one's beck and call, bunted by all, -respected by none, not knowing which to serve most as most likely to be able to -serve him--would you like to be that, would your pride suffer that? That's all -these people want of you--to make you their tool, their party's tool; for you -yourself they have not the remotest care. Do you hear?"</p> - -<p>"I do. But you have not told me, Mrs. Creswell, what I should get for -retiring?"</p> - -<p>"Your own terms, Walter Joyce, whatever they were. A competence for -life--enough to give you leisure to follow the life in which, as I understand, -you have engaged, in ease, when and where you liked. No drudgery, no anxiety, -all your own settled on yourself!"</p> - -<p>"You are strangely anxious about the result of this election, Mrs. Creswell."</p> - -<p>"It am--and I am willing to pay for it."</p> - -<p>Joyce laughed again--a very unpleasant laugh. "My dear Mrs. Creswell," said -he, "if government could promise me ten times your husband's fortune to withdraw -from this contest, I would refuse. If I had your husband's fortune, I would -gladly forfeit it for the chance of winning this election, and defeating you. -You will excuse my naming a money value for such pleasure; but I know that -hitherto it has been the only one you could understand or appreciate. Good -morning!" And he took off his hat and left her standing in the road.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> -<h5>BAFFLED.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Marian remained standing where Walter Joyce had left her, gazing after his -retreating figure until it had passed out of sight. At first so little did she -comprehend the full meaning of the curt sentence in which he had conveyed to her -his abrupt rejection of the bribe which she had proposed to him, his perfect -appreciation of the snare which she had prepared for him, that she had some sort -of an idea that he would hesitate on his career, stop, turn back, and finally -consent, if not to an immediate concession to her views, at all events to some -further discussion, with a view to future settlement. But after his parting bow -he strode unrelentingly onward, and it was not until he had reached the end of -the newly made road, and, dropping down into the meadows leading to Helmingham, -had entirely disappeared, that Marian realised how completely she had been -foiled, was able to understand, to estimate, and, in estimating, to wince under, -the bitter scorn with which her suggestion had been received, the scathing terms -in which that scorn had been conveyed. A money value for anything to be -desired--that was the only way in which he could make it clear to her -understanding or appreciation--was not that what he had said? A money value -Marian Creswell was not of those who sedulously hide their own failings from -themselves, shrink at the very thought of them, make cupboard-skeletons of them, -to be always kept under turned key. Too sensible for this, she knew that this -treatment only enhanced the importance of the skeleton, without at all -benefiting its possessor, felt that much the better plan was to take it out and -subject it to examination, observe its form and its articulation, dust its -bones, see that its joints swung easily, and replace it in its cupboard-home. -But all these rites were, of course, performed in private, and the world was to -be kept in strict ignorance of the existence of the skeleton. And now Walter -Joyce knew of it; a money value, her sole standard of appreciation. Odd as it -may seem, Marian had never taken the trouble to imagine to herself to what -motive Walter would ascribe her rejection of him, her preference of Mr. -Creswell. True, she had herself spoken in her last letter of the impossibility -of her enjoying life without wealth and the luxuries which wealth commands, but -she had argued to herself that he would scarcely have believed that, -principally, perhaps, from the fact of her having advanced the statement so -boldly, and now she found him throwing the argument in her teeth. And if Walter -knew and understood this to be the dominant passion of her soul, the great -motive power of her life, the knowledge was surely not confined to him--others -would know it too. In gaining her position as Mr. Creswell's wife, her success, -her elation, had been so great as completely to absorb her thoughts, and what -people might say as to the manner in which that success had been obtained, or -the reasons for which the position had been sought, had never troubled her for -one instant. Now, however, she saw at once that her designs had been suspected, -and doubtless talked of, sneered at, and jested over, and her heart beat with -extra speed, and the blood suffused her cheeks, as she thought of how she had -probably been the subject of alehouse gossip, how the townsfolk and villagers -amongst whom, since the canvassing time, she had recently been so much, must -have all discussed her after she had left their houses, and all had their -passing joke at the young woman who had married the old man for his money. She -stamped her foot in rage upon the ground as the idea came into her mind; it was -too horrible to think she should have afforded scandal-matter to these low -people, it was so galling to her pride; she almost wished that--and just then -the sharp, clear, silvery tinkle of the little bells sounded on her ear, and the -perfectly-appointed carriage with the iron-gray ponies came into view, and the -next minute she had taken the reins from James, had received his salute, and, -drawing her sealskin cloak closely round her, was spinning towards her luxurious -home, with the feeling that she could put up with all their talk, and endure all -their remarks, so long as she enjoyed the material comforts which money, had -undoubtedly brought her.</p> - -<p>Marian started on her return drive in a pleasant frame of mind, but the glow -of satisfaction had passed away long before she reached home, and had been -succeeded by very different feelings. She no longer cared what the neighbouring -people might say about her; she had quite got over that, and was pondering, with -gradually increasing fury, over the manner in which Walter Joyce had received -her proposition, and the light and airy scorn, never for one moment striven to -be concealed, with which he had tossed it aside. She bit her lip in anger and -vexation as she thought of her tremendous folly in so speedily unfolding her -plan without previously making herself acquainted with Joyce's views, and seeing -how he was likely to receive the suggestion; she was furious with herself as she -recalled his light laugh and easy bearing, so different from anything she had -previously seen in him, and--by the way, that was odd; she had not noticed it -before, but undoubtedly he was very much improved in appearance and manner; he -had lost the rustic awkwardness and bashfulness which had previously rendered -him somewhat ungainly, and had acquired confidence and ease. She had heard this -before; her husband had mentioned it to her as having been told him by Mr. -Teesdale, who kept the keenest outlook on Joyce and his doings, and who regarded -him as a very dangerous opponent; she had heard this before, but she had paid -but little attention to it, not thinking that she should so soon have an -opportunity of personally verifying the assertion. She acknowledged it now; saw -that it was exactly the manner which would prove wonderfully winning among the -electors, who were neither to be awed by distant demeanour nor to be cajoled by -excessive familiarity. In Walter Joyce's pleasant bearing and cheery way there -was a something which seemed to say, "I am of you, and understand you, although -I may have had, perhaps, a few more brains and a little better education;" and -there was nothing that more quickly got to the hearts of the Brocksoppians than -the feeling that they were about to elect one of themselves. This was a chord -which Mr. Creswell could never touch, although he had every claim to do so, and -although Mr. Gould had had thousands of a little pamphlet struck off and -circulated among the voters--a little pamphlet supposed to be Mr. Creswell's -biography, adorned with woodcuts borrowed from some previous publication, the -first of which represented Mr. Creswell as a cabin-boy, about to receive the -punishment of the "colt" from the mate--he had scarcely been on board ship -during his life--while the last showed him, and Mrs. Creswell, with short waist, -long train, and high ostrich feathers in her head (supposed to have been -originally the <i>vera</i> effigies of some lady mayoress in George the Third's, -time), receiving the cream of the aristocracy in a gilded saloon. But the people -declined to believe in the biography, which, indeed, did rather more harm than -good, and cast doubt on the real history of Mr. Creswell's self-manufacture, -than which, in its way, nothing could be more creditable.</p> - -<p>Before Marian had reached her home she had revolved all these things very -carefully in her mind, and the result which she arrived at was, that as it was -impossible to purchase peace, and as the fight must now be fought out at all -hazards, the only way--not indeed to insure success, for that was out of the -question, but to stand a good chance for it--was to pay fresh and unremitting -attention to the canvassing, and, above all, to try personally to enlist the -sympathies of the voters, not leaving it, as in Woolgreaves it had hitherto been -done, to Mr. Teesdale and his emissaries. With all her belief in money, Marian -had a faith in position, which, though lately born, was springing up apace, and -she felt that Squire Creswell might yet win many a vote which would be given to -him out of respect to his status in the county, if he would only exert himself -to obtain it.</p> - -<p>Full of this idea, she drove through the lodge-gates at Woolgreaves, any -little qualms or heart-sinkings which she might have recently felt disappearing -entirely as she looked round upon the trim gardens, trim even in those first -days of winter, and upon the long line of conservatories which had recently -risen under her direction, as the hall-doors opened at her approach, and as she -stepped out of her pony-carriage, the mistress of that handsome mansion, warmed -and flower-scented and luxurious. Her pleasure was a little dashed when she -found that Mr. Creswell had been carried off into Brocksopp by Mr. Gould, who -had come down unexpectedly from London, and that Mr. Benthall was seated in the -drawing-room with Maude and Gertrude, evidently intending to remain to luncheon, -if he were invited. But she rallied in a moment, and accorded the invitation -graciously, and did the honours of the luncheon table with all proper -hospitality. Once or twice she winced a little at the obvious understanding -between Gertrude and Mr. Benthall; a state of things for which, though to some -extent prepared, she was by no means particularly grateful. It was not entirely -new to her, this flirtation; she had noticed something of it a while ago, and -her husband had made it the subject of one of his mild little jokes to her; but -she had matters of greater import to attend to just then, and would see how it -should be treated when the election was over.</p> - -<p>After luncheon Marian, recollecting the determination she had arrived at in -her homeward drive, was minded to put it in force at once, and accordingly said -to her visitor, "Are you going back to the school, Mr. Benthall, or do you make -holiday this afternoon?"</p> - -<p>"Fortunately, my dear Mrs. Creswell," said Mr. Benthall, with a slight sign -of that indolence which the consumption of an excellent luncheon superinduces in -a man of full habit--"fortunately the law has done that for me! Wednesdays and -Saturdays are half-holidays by--well, I don't know exactly by Act of Parliament, -but at all events by Helmingham rule and system; so, to-day being Saturday, I am -absolved from further work. To my infinite satisfaction, I confess."</p> - -<p>"I am glad of that," said Marian; "for it will leave you free to accept my -proposition. I have some business in Brocksopp, and I want an escort. Will you -come?"</p> - -<p>"I shall be delighted," replied Mr. Benthall, "though I shall keep up my -unfortunate character for plain speaking by asking you not to dawdle too long in -the shops! I do get so horridly impatient while ladies are turning over a -counterful of goods!"</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Benthall, pray spare yourself any such dreadful anticipations! -The business that takes me into Brocksopp is of a widely different character."</p> - -<p>"And that is----"</p> - -<p>"How can you ask at such a crisis?" said Marian, in a mock heroic style, for -her spirits always rose at the prospect of action. "In what business should a -wife be engaged at such a time but her husband's? My business of course -is--electioneering!"</p> - -<p>"Electioneering--you?"</p> - -<p>"Well, canvassing; you know perfectly well what I mean!"</p> - -<p>"And you want me to go with you?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? Mr. Benthall, what on earth is all this questioning about?"</p> - -<p>"My dear Mrs. Creswell, do you not know that it is impossible for me to go -with you on the expedition you propose?"</p> - -<p>"No, I do not know it! Why is it impossible?"</p> - -<p>"Simply because in politics I happen to be diametrically opposed to Mr. -Creswell. My sympathies are strongly Liberal."</p> - -<p>"Then, in the present election your intention is to vote against Mr. -Creswell, and for his opponent?"</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly. Is this the first time you have heard this?"</p> - -<p>"Most unquestionably! Who should have told me?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Creswell! Directly it was known that he would come forward in the -Conservative interest, I told him my views!"</p> - -<p>"He did not mention the circumstance to me," said Marian; then added, after a -moment, "I never asked him about you, to be sure! I had no idea that there was -the least doubt of the way in which you intended to vote."</p> - -<p>There was a dead silence for a few minutes after this, a pause during which -Gertrude Creswell took advantage of Marian's abstraction to catch Maude's eye, -and to shape her mouth into the silent expression of the word "Row"--delivered -three times with great solemnity. At last Marian looked up and said, with an -evidently forced smile, "Well, then, I must be content to shrug my shoulders, -and submit to these dreadful politics so far dividing us that I must give up all -idea of your accompanying me into Brocksopp, Mr. Benthall; but I shall be -obliged if you will give me five minutes' conversation--I will not detain you -longer--in the library."</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall, muttering that he should be delighted, rose from his chair and -opened the door for his hostess to pass out; before he followed her he turned -round to glance at, the girls, and again Gertrude's fresh rosy lips pressed -themselves together and then opened fur the silent expression of the word "Row," -but he took no notice of this cabalistic sign beyond nodding his head in a -reassuring manner, and then followed Mrs. Creswell to the library.</p> - -<p>"Pray be seated, Mr. Benthall," said Marian, dropping into a chair at the -writing-table, and commencing to sketch vaguely on the blotting-book with a dry -pen; "the news you told me just now has come upon me quite unexpectedly. I had -no idea--looking at your intimacy in this house--intimacy which, as far as I -know, has continued uninterruptedly to the present moment--no idea that you -could have been going to act against us at so serious a crisis as the present."</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall did not like Mrs. Creswell, but he was a man of the world, and -he could not avoid admiring the delicious insolence of the tone of voice which -lent additional relish to the insolence of the statement, that he had continued -to avail himself of their hospitality, while intending to requite it with -opposition. He merely said, however, "The fault is not mine, Mrs. Creswell, as I -have before said; immediately on the announcement of the contest, and of Mr. -Creswell's coming forward as the Conservative candidate, I went straight to him -and told him I was not a free agent in the matter. I labour under the -misfortune--and it is one for which I know I shall receive no sympathy in this -part of the country, for people, however good-hearted they may be, cannot pity -where they cannot understand--I labour under the misfortune of coming of an old -family, having had people before me who for years and years have held to Liberal -opinions in fair weather and foul weather, now profiting by it, now losing most -confoundedly, but never veering a hair's breadth for an instant. In those -opinions I was brought up, and in those opinions I shall die; they may be wrong, -I don't say they are not; I've not much time, or opportunity, or inclination, -for the matter of that, for going very deeply into the question. I've taken it -for granted, on the strength of the recommendation of wiser heads than mine; -more than all, on the fact of their being the family opinions, held by the -family time out of mind. I'm excessively sorry that in this instance those -opinions clash with those held by a gentleman who is so thoroughly deserving of -all respect as Mr. Creswell, and from whom I have received so many proofs of -friendship and kindness. Just now it is especially provoking for me to be thrown -into antagonism to him in any way, because--however, that's neither here nor -there. I dare say I shall have to run counter to several of my friends -hereabouts, but there is no one the opposition to whom will concern me so much -as Mr. Creswell. However, as I've said before, it is a question of sticking to -the family principles, and in one sense to the family honour, and--so there's -nothing else to be done."</p> - -<p>Marian sat quietly for a minute, before she said, "Not having had the honour -of belonging to an old family so extensively stocked with traditions, not even -having married into one, I am perhaps scarcely able to understand your position, -Mr. Benthall. But it occurs to me that 'progress' is a word which I have heard -not unfrequently mentioned in connection with the principles for the support of -which you seemed prepared to go to the stake, and it seems to me an impossible -word to be used by those who maintain a set of political opinions simply because -they received them from their ancestors."</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course it is not merely that! Of course I myself hold and believe in -them!"</p> - -<p>"Sufficiently to let that belief influence your actions at a rather important -period of your life? See here, Mr. Benthall; it happens to be my wish, my very -strong wish, that my husband should be returned for Brocksopp at this election. -I do not hide from myself that his return is by no means certain, that it is -necessary that every vote should be secured. Now, there are certain farmers, -holding land in connection with the charity under which the school was -founded--there is no intended harm in my use of the word, for my father was paid -out of it as well as you, remember--farmers who, holding the charity land, look -to the master of the school, with an odd kind of loyalty, as their head, and, in -such matters as an election, would, I imagine, come to him for advice how to -act. Am I right?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly right."</p> - -<p>"You know this by experience? They have been to you?"</p> - -<p>"Some of them waited on me at the schoolhouse several days ago!"</p> - -<p>"And you made them pledge themselves to support Mr.--Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"No, Mrs. Creswell, I am a schoolmaster and a clergyman, <i>not</i> an -electioneering agent. I explained to them to the best of my power the views -taken by each party on the great question of the day, and, when asked a direct -question as to how I should myself vote, I answered it--that was all."</p> - -<p>"All, indeed! It is sufficient to show me that these unthinking people will -follow you to the polling-booth like sheep! However, to return to what I was -about to say when I thought of these farmers; is your belief in your attachment -to these principles so strong as to allow them to influence your actions at what -may be an important period of your life? I know the Helmingham school-salary, -Mr. Benthall; I know the life--Heaven knows I ought, after all the years of its -weariness and its drudgery which I witnessed. You are scarcely in your proper -place, I think! I can picture you to myself in a pleasant rectory in a southern -or western county, with a charming wife by your side!"</p> - -<p>"A most delightful idea, Mrs. Creswell, but one impossible of realisation in -my case, I am afraid!"</p> - -<p>"By no means so impossible as you seem to imagine. I have only to say one -word to my husband, and----"</p> - -<p>"My dear Mrs. Creswell," said Mr. Benthall, rising, and laying his hand -lightly on her arm, "pray excuse my interrupting you; but I am sure you don't -know what you are saying or doing! Ladies have no idea of this kind of thing; -they don't understand it, and we cannot explain. I can only say that if any man -had--well, I should not have hesitated a moment in knocking him down!" And Mr. -Benthall, whose manner was disturbed, whose voice trembled, and whose face was -very much flushed, was making rapidly to the door, when Marian called him back.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry," she said, very calmly, "that our last interview should have -been so disagreeable. You will understand that, under present circumstances, -your visits here, and your acquaintance with any of the inmates of this house, -must cease."</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall looked as though about to speak, but he merely bowed and left -the room. When the door closed behind him, Marian sank down into her chair, and -burst into a flood of bitter tears. It was the second repulse she had met with -that day, and she had not been accustomed to repulses, of late.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4> -<h5>AN INCOMPLETE VICTORY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Benthall's neat cob was not standing in a loose box in the Woolgreaves -stable, as was its usual wont when its master had paid a visit to that -hospitable mansion. On this occasion the schoolmaster had walked over from -Helmingham, and, though by nature an indolent man, Mr. Benthall was exceedingly -pleased at the prospect of the walk before him on emerging from Woolgreaves -after his interview in the library with Mrs. Creswell. He felt that he required -a vent for the excitement under which he was labouring, a vent which could only -be found in sharp and prolonged exercise. The truth was that he was very much -excited and very angry indeed. "It is a very charitable way of looking at it--a -more than charitable way," he muttered to himself as he strode over the ground, -"to fancy that Mrs. Creswell was ignorant of what she was doing; did not know -that she was offering me a bribe to vote for her husband, and to influence the -farmers on this estate to do the same. She knew it well enough; she is by far -too clever a woman not to understand all about it. And if she would try that -game on with us, who hold a comparatively superior position, what won't she do -with those lower on the electoral roll? Clever woman too, thorough woman of the -world. I wonder at her forgetting herself, and showing her hand so completely. -How admirably she emphasised the 'any of the inmates' in that sentence when she -gave me my congé! it was really remarkably well done! When I tell Gertrude this, -it will show her the real facts at once. She has had a firm impression that, up -to the present time, 'madam,' as she calls Mrs. Creswell, has had no idea as to -the state of the case between us; but I don't think even incredulous Gertrude -would have much doubt of it if she had been present, and caught the expression -of Mrs. Creswell's face as she forbade my communication with 'any' of the -inmates of her house. Neither look nor tone admitted of the smallest ambiguity, -and I took care to appreciate both. Something must be done to circumvent our -young friend the hostess of Woolgreaves."</p> - -<p>Thus soliloquised the Reverend George Benthall as he strode across the bleak -barren fields, chopping away with his stick at the thin naked hedges as he -passed them, pushing his hat back from his brow, and uttering many sounds which -were at least impatient, not to say unclerical, as he progressed. After his -dinner, feeling that this was an exceptional kind of evening, and one which must -be exceptionally treated, he went down to his cellar, brought therefrom a bottle -of excellent Burgundy, lit up, his favourite pipe, placed his feet on the -fender, and prepared himself for a careful review of the occurrences of the day. -On the whole, he was satisfied. It may seem strange that a man, indolent, -uncaring about most things, and certainly desirous of the opportunity for the -acquisition of worldly goods, should have refused the chance of such a position -as Marian hinted he might aspire to--a position which her own keen natural -instinct and worldly knowledge suggested to her as the very one which he would -most covet--but it must be remembered that Mr. Benthall was a man of birth and -family, bound to indorse the family politics in his own person, and likely to -shrink from the merest suggestion of a bribe as the highest insult and, -indignity that could possibly be offered him. One of Marian's hints went home; -when she told him that all acquaintance between him and any member of the -Woolgreaves household must cease, the bolt penetrated. The easy attention which -Mr. Benthall had just paid to the rather odd, but decidedly amusing, niece of -rich Squire Creswell had developed into a great liking, which had grown into a -passion deeper and stronger than this calm, placid--well, not to disguise the -fact, selfish--clergyman had ever imagined he could have experienced; and -although in his homeward walk he was pleased to smile in his complimentary -fashion at Mrs. Creswell's skill in aiming the arrow, when he turned the whole -matter over in his mind after dinner, he was compelled to allow that it was -exceedingly unpleasant, and that he did not see how affairs between himself and -Gertrude were to be carried out to a happy issue without bringing matters to a -crisis. For this crisis long-headed and calculating Mr. Benthall had been for -some time prepared--that is to say, he had long entertained the idea that after -a time Mrs. Creswell, getting tired of the alternations in the state of armed -neutrality or actual warfare, in one or other of which she always lived with the -young ladies, and feeling towards them as Haman felt towards Mordecai, with the -aggravation of their all being women, would certainly do her best towards -getting them removed from Woolgreaves; and doing her best meant, when Mr. -Creswell was the person to be acted upon, the accomplishment of her designs. But -Mr. Benthall felt tolerably certain, from his knowledge of Mr. Creswell, and the -conversation in some degree bearing on the subject which they had had together, -that though the old gentleman would not be able to withstand, nor indeed would -for a moment attempt to fight against the pressure which would be put upon him -by his wife for the accomplishment of her purpose, even though that preference -were to the disadvantage of his blood relations, that result once achieved, he -would do everything in his power to insure the girls' future comfort, and would -not abate one jot of the liberal pecuniary allowance which he had always -intended for them on the occasion of their marriage. It was very comforting to -Mr. Benthall, after due deliberation, to come to this conclusion; for though he -was very much attached to Gertrude Creswell, and though of late he had begun to -think she was so indispensable to his future happiness that he could almost have -married her without any dowry, yet it was pleasant to think that--well, that she -would not only make him a charming wife, but bring a very handsome increase to -his income--when the storm arrived.</p> - -<p>The storm arrived sooner than Mr. Benthall anticipated: it must have been -brewing while he was seated with his feet on the fender, enjoying that special -bottle of Burgundy and that favourite pipe. As he sat at his breakfast he -received a note from Gertrude, which said, "There has been the most terrible -fuss here this evening! I don't know what you and madam can have fought about -during that dreadfully solemn interview in the library to which she invited you, <i> -but she is furious against you!</i> She and uncle were closeted together for -nearly an hour after he came in from Brocksopp; and when, they joined us in the -dining-room his eyes were quite red, and I'm sure he had been crying. Poor old -darling! isn't it a shame for that--never mind. After dinner, just as we were -about to run off as usual, madam said she wanted to speak to us, and marched us -off to the drawing-room. When we got there she harangued us, and told us it was -only right we should know that you had behaved in a most treacherous and -unfriendly manner towards uncle, and that your conduct had been so base that she -had been compelled to forbid you the house. I was going to speak at this, but -Maude dashed in, and said she did not believe a word of it, and that it was all -madam's concoction, and that you were a gentleman, and I don't know what--you -understand, all sorts of nice things about you! And then madam said you had -thrown over uncle, to whom you owed such a debt of gratitude--what for, goodness -knows!--and were going to vote for uncle's opponent, Mr. Joyce, who---- But then -I dashed in, and I said that, considering what people said about her and Mr. -Joyce, and the engagement that had existed between them, she ought not to say -anything against him. And Maude tried to stop me; but my blood was up, and I -would go on, and, I said all kinds of things; and madam grew very pale, and said -that, though she was disposed to make every allowance for me, considering the -infatuation I was labouring under--that's what she said, infatuation I was -labouring under--she could not put up with being insulted in her own house, and -she should appeal to uncle. So she went away, and presently she and uncle came -back together, and he said he was deeply grieved and all that--poor old dear, he -looked awful--but he could not have his wife treated with -disrespect--disrespect, indeed!--and he thought that the best thing that could -be done would be for us to go away for a time, at least; only for a time, the -dear old man said, trying to look cheerful; for if he succeeded in this election -he and Mrs. Creswell would necessarily be for several months in London, during -which we could come back to Woolgreaves; but for a time, and if we would only -settle where we would go, Parker, our maid, who is a most staid and respectable -person, would go with us, and all could be arranged. I think Maude was going to -fly out again; but a look at the dear old man's woebegone face stopped her, and -she was silent. So it's decided we're to go somewhere out of this. But is it not -an awful nuisance, George? What shall we do? Where shall we go? It will be a -relief to get rid of madam for a time, and out of the reach of her eyes and her -tongue; but doesn't it seem very horrible altogether?"</p> - -<p>"Horrible altogether! It does, indeed, seem very horrible altogether," said -Mr. Benthall to himself, as he finished reading this epistle, and laid it down -on the breakfast-table before him. "What on earth is to be done? This old man -seems perfectly besotted, while this very strong-minded young woman, his wife, -has completely gleaned the brains out of his head and the kindliness out of his -heart. What can he be thinking about, to imagine that these two girls are to -take some lodging and form some course for themselves? Why, the thing is -monstrous and impossible! They would have to live in seclusion; it would be -impossible for any man ever to call upon them; and oh, it won't do at all, won't -do at all! But what's to be done? I can't interfere in the matter, and I know no -one with whom I could consult. Yes, by George! Joyce, our candidate, Mr. Joyce; -he's a clear-headed fellow, and one who, I should think, if Mrs. Covey's story -be correct, would not object to put a spoke in Mrs. Creswell's wheel. I'll go -and see him. Perhaps he can help me in this fix."</p> - -<p>No sooner said than done. The young gentlemen on the foundation and the -head-master's boarders had that morning to make shift with the teaching of the -ushers, while the neat cob was taken from his stable at an unwonted hour, and -cantered down to Brocksopp. Mr. Joyce was not at his head-quarters, he was out -canvassing; so the cob was put up, and Mr. Benthall started on a -search-expedition through the town. After some little time he came up with the -Liberal candidate, with whom he had already struck up a pleasant acquaintance, -and begged a few minutes of his time. The request was granted. They adjourned to -Joyce's private sitting-room at the inn, and there Mr. Benthall laid the whole -story before him, showing in detail Marian's machinations against the girls, and -pointing out the final piece of strategy by which she had induced her husband to -give them the rout, and tell them they could no longer be inmates of his house. -Joyce was very much astonished; for although the film had gradually been -withdrawn from his eyes since the day of the receipt of Marian's letter, he had -no idea of the depth of her degradation. That she could endeavour to win him -from the tournament now he stood a good chance of victory; that she would even -endeavour to bribe a man like Benthall, who was sufficiently venal, Walter -thought, who had his price, like most men, but who had not been properly "got -at," he could understand; but that she could endeavour to attempt to wreak her -vengeance on two unoffending girls, simply because they were remotely connected -with one of the causes of her annoyance, was beyond his comprehension. He saw, -however, at once, that the young ladies were delicately situated; and, partly -from an innate feeling of gallantry, partly with a desire to oblige Benthall, -who had proved himself very loyal in the cause, and not without a desire to -thwart what was evidently a pet scheme with Mrs. Creswell, he took up the -question with alacrity.</p> - -<p>"You're quite right," he said, after a little consideration, "in saying that -it would be impossible that these two young ladies could go away and live by -themselves, or rather with their maid. I know nothing of them, beyond seeing -them a long time ago. I should not even recognise them were we to meet now; but -it is evident that by birth and education they are ladies, and they must not be -thrown on the world, to rough it in the manner proposed by their weak uncle, at -the instigation of his charming wife. The question is, what is to be done with -them? Neither you nor I, even if we had the power and will, dare offer them any -hospitality, miserable bachelors as we are. The laws of etiquette forbid that; -and we should have Mrs. Grundy, egged on by Mrs. Creswell, calling us over the -coals, and bringing us to book very speedily. It is clear that in their position -the best thing for them would be to be received by some lady relative of their -own, or in default of that, by some one whose name and character would be a -complete answer to anything which our friends Mrs. Grundy or Mrs. Creswell might -choose to say about them. Have they no such female relations? No! I fear then -that, for their own sakes, the best thing we can do is not to interfere in the -matter. It is very hard for you, I can see clearly, as you will be undoubtedly -deterred from paying any visits to Miss Gertrude until---- Stay, I've an idea: -it's come upon me so suddenly that it has almost taken my breath away, and I -don't know whether I dare attempt to carry it out. Wait, and let me think it -over."</p> - -<p>The idea that had occurred to Joyce was, to lay the state of affairs before -Lady Caroline Mansergh, and ask her advice and assistance in the matter. He felt -certain that she would act with promptitude, and at the same time with great -discretion. Her knowledge of the world would tell her exactly what was best to -be done under the circumstances; while the high position which she held in -society, and that not alone by reason of her rank, would effectually silence any -malicious whisperings and ethical comments which would inevitably be made on the -proceedings of a less-favoured personage. The question was, dare he ask her to -interfere in the matter? He had no claim on her, he knew; but she had always -shown him such great favour, that he thought he might urge his request without -offence. Even in the last letter which he had received from her, just before he -started on his election campaign, she reminded him of his promise to allow her -to be of service to him in any possible way, said never to permit any idea of -the magnitude or difficulty of the task to be undertaken to influence him -against asking her to do it. Yes, he felt sure that Lady Caroline would be of -material assistance to him in this emergency; the only question was, was he not -wasting his resources? These young ladies were nothing to him; to him it was a -matter of no moment whether they remained at Woolgreaves or were hunted out to -genteel lodgings. Stay, though. To get rid of them from their uncle's house, to -remove them from her presence, in which they were constantly reminding her of -bygone times, had, according to Mr. Benthall's story, been Marian Creswell's -fixed intention from the moment of her marriage. Were they to leave now, outcast -and humbled, she would have gained a perfect victory; whereas if they were -received under the chaperonage of a person in the position of Lady Caroline -Mansergh, it would be anything but a degradation of station for the young -ladies, and a decided blow for Mrs. Creswell. That thought decided him; he would -invoke Lady Caroline's aid at once.</p> - -<p>"Well," said he, after a few minutes' pause, when he had come to this -determination, "you have waited, and I have thought it over----"</p> - -<p>"And the result is----?" asked Mr. Benthall.</p> - -<p>"That I shall be bold, and act upon the idea which has just occurred to me, -and which is briefly this: There is in London a lady of rank and social -position, who is good enough to be my friend, and who, I feel certain, will, if -I ask her to do so, interest herself in the fortunes of these two young ladies, -and advise us what is best to be done for them under present circumstances. It -is plain that after what has occurred they can stay no longer at Woolgreaves."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly plain. Maude would not listen to such a thing for a moment, and -Gertrude always thinks with her sister."</p> - -<p>"That's plucky in Miss Maude; and pluck is not a bad quality to be possessed -of when you are thrown out into the world on your own resources, as some of us -know from experience. Then they must leave as soon as possible. Lady Caroline -Mansergh, the lady of whom I have just spoken, will doubtless be able to suggest -some place where they can be received, and where they would have the advantage -of her occasional surveillance."</p> - -<p>"Nothing could possibly be better," cried Mr. Benthall, in great glee. "I -cannot tell you, Mr. Joyce, how much I am obliged to you for your disinterested -co-operation in this matter."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps my co-operation is not so disinterested as you imagine," said Joyce, -with a grave smile. "Perhaps--but that's nothing now."</p> - -<p>"Will you write to Lady Caroline Mansergh at once? Time presses, you know."</p> - -<p>"Better than that, I will go up to London and see her. There will necessarily -be a lull in the canvassing here for the next two or three days, and I shall be -able to explain far more clearly than by letter. Besides, I shall take the -opportunity of seeing our friends Potter and Fyfe, and hearing the best news -from head-quarters."</p> - -<p>"That is merely an excuse," said Mr. Benthall; "I am sure you are undertaking -this journey solely with the view of serving these young ladies and me."</p> - -<p>"And myself, my good friend," replied Joyce; "and myself, I assure you."</p> - -<p> -Lady Caroline Mansergh had a very charming little house in Chesterfield Street, -Mayfair, thoroughly homeish and remarkably comfortable. Since she had been left -a widow she had frequently passed the winter, as well as the season, in London, -and her residence was accordingly arranged with a due regard to the miseries of -our delightful climate. Her ladyship was in town, Joyce was glad to find; and -after he had sent up his name, he was shown into a very cosy drawing-room, with -a large fire blazing on the hearth, and all the draughts carefully excluded by -means of portières and thick hanging curtains. He had merely time to notice that -the room was eminently one to be lived in, and not kept merely for show--one -that was lived in, moreover, as the sign of a woman's hand, everywhere -recognisable, in the management of the flowers and the books, in the work-basket -and the feminine writing arrangements, so different, somehow, from a man's desk -and its appurtenances, plainly showed--when the door opened, and Lady Caroline -entered the room.</p> - -<p>She was looking splendidly handsome. In all the work and worry of his recent -life, Joyce had lost all except a kind or general remembrance of her face and -figure, and he was almost betrayed into an exclamation of astonishment as he saw -her advancing towards him. There must have been something of this feeling in the -expression of his face, for Lady Caroline's cheeks flushed for an instant, and -the voice in which she bade him welcome, and expressed her pleasure of seeing -him, was rather unsteady in its tone.</p> - -<p>"I imagined you were at Brocksopp," she said, after a minute; "indeed I have -some idea that quite recently I saw a report in the paper of some speech of -yours, as having been delivered there."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly correct: I only came up last night."</p> - -<p>"And how goes the great cause? No, seriously, how are you progressing; what -are the chances of success? You know how interested I am about it!"</p> - -<p>"We are progressing admirably, and if we can only hold out as we are doing, -there is very little doubt of our triumph!"</p> - -<p>"And you will enter upon the career which I suggested to you, Mr. Joyce, and -you will work in it as you have worked in everything else which you have -undertaken, with zeal, energy, and success!" said Lady Caroline, with flashing -eyes. "But what has brought you to London at this particular time?"</p> - -<p>"You, Lady Caroline!"</p> - -<p>"I?" and the flush again overspread her face.</p> - -<p>"You. I wanted your advice and assistance."</p> - -<p>"Ah! I recollect you said just now, 'if we could only hold out as we are -doing.' How foolish of me not at once to---- Mr. Joyce, you--you want money to -pursue this election, and you have shown your friendship for me by----"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed, Lady Caroline, though there is no one in the world to whom I -would so gladly be under an obligation. No; this is a matter of a very different -kind;" and he briefly explained to her the state of affairs at Woolgreaves, and -the position of Maude and Gertrude Creswell.</p> - -<p>After he had concluded there was a momentary pause, and then Lady Caroline -said, "And you do not know either of these young ladies, Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"I do not. I have scarcely seen them since they were children."</p> - -<p>"And it is for the sake of revenge on her that he is taking all this -trouble!" thought Lady Caroline to herself; "that woman threw away a priceless -treasure; the man who can hate like this must have a great capacity for loving." -Then she said aloud, "I am very glad you came to me, Mr. Joyce, as this is -plainly a case where prompt action is needed. When do you return to Brocksopp?"</p> - -<p>"To-night."</p> - -<p>"Will you be the bearer of a note from me to Miss Creswell? I shall be -delighted to have her and her sister here, in this house, as my guests, as long -as it may suit them to remain."</p> - -<p>"Lady Caroline, how can I thank you?"</p> - -<p>"By asking me to do some service for you yourself, Mr. Joyce. This is merely -general philanthropy."</p> - -<p> -Marian Creswell was in great exultation, for several reasons. Mr. Joyce had -hurried suddenly to London, and a report had been started that he was about to -abandon the contest. That was one cause for her delight. Another was that the -girls had evidently accepted their defeat in the last contest as final, and she -should be rid of them for ever. She had noticed various preparations for -departure, and had seen heavy boxes lumbering the passages near their rooms, but -had carefully avoided making any inquiries, and had begged her husband to do -likewise.</p> - -<p>"They will go," she said, "and it will be for the best. Either they or I must -have gone, and I suppose you would prefer it should be they. It is their duty to -say where they purpose going, and what they purpose doing. It will be time -enough for you to refuse your consent, if the place of selection be an -objectionable one, when they tell us where it is."</p> - -<p>Two days after that conversation Mr. and Mrs. Creswell were sitting together -after luncheon, when Maude entered the room. She took no notice of Marian, but -said to her uncle, "Gertrude and I are going away to-morrow, uncle, for some -time, if not for ever. You won't be astonished to hear it, I know, but it is our -duty to tell you."</p> - -<p>"Well, Maude, I--going away--I confess, not entirely news to me," said Mr. -Creswell, hopelessly feeble; "where are you going, child?"</p> - -<p>"We have accepted an invitation we have received, uncle."</p> - -<p>"An invitation? I did not know you knew any one, Maude. From some of your old -school companions?"</p> - -<p>"No, uncle; from Lady Caroline Mansergh--a friend of Mr. Benthall's and Mr. -Joyce's, uncle."</p> - -<p>Marian looked up, and the light of triumph faded out of her eyes. It was but -an incomplete victory, after all!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE SHATTERING OF THE IDOL.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The fact that his nieces had actually left the shelter of his roof, although, -as he had hitherto believed, that result had been brought about by their own -wilfulness and impatience of control, came upon Mr. Creswell with almost -stunning force. True, Marian had mentioned to him that it was impossible that -she and the girls could ever live together in amity--true, that he himself had -on more than one occasion been witness of painful scenes between them--true, -that the girls' departure had been talked of for a week past as an expected -event, and that the preparations for it lay before his eyes; but he had not -realised the fact; his mind was so taken up with the excitement of the coming -election contest, that he had scarcely noticed the luggage through which he had -occasionally to thread his way, or, if he had noticed it, had regarded its -presence there as merely a piece of self-assertion on the part of impetuous -Maude or silly Gertrude, determined to show, foolish children as they were, that -they were not to be put down by Marian's threats, but were ready to start -independently whenever such a step might become necessary. That Marian would -ever allow them to take this step, Mr. Creswell never imagined; he thought there -had always been smouldering embers of warfare, needing but a touch to burst into -a blaze, between his wife and his nieces; he knew that they had never "hit it," -as he phrased it; but his opinion of Marian was so high, and his trust in her so -great, that he could not believe she would be sufficiently affected by these -"women's tiffs" as to visit them with such disproportionate punishment. Even in -the moment of adieu, when Gertrude, making no attempt to hide her tears, had -sobbingly kissed him and clung about his neck, and Maude, less demonstrative, -but not less affectionate, had prayed God bless him in a broken voice--she -passed Mrs. Creswell with a grave bow, taking no notice of Marian's extended -hand--the old man could scarcely comprehend what was taking place, but looked -across to his wife, hoping she would relent, and with a few affectionate words -wished the girls a pleasant visit to London, but bid them come back soon to -their home.</p> - -<p>But Marian never moved a muscle, standing there, calm and statuesque, until -the door had closed upon them and the carriage had rolled away; and then the -first sound that issued from her lips was a sigh of relief that, so far, her -determination had been fulfilled without much overt opposition; and without any -"scene." Not that she was by any means satisfied with what she had done; she had -accomplished so much of her purpose as consisted in removing the girls from -their uncle's home, but instead of their being reduced in social position -thereby--which, judging other people, as she always did, by her own standard, -she imagined would be the greatest evil she could inflict upon them--she found -her plans had been attended with an exactly opposite result. The entrance into -society, which she had so long coveted, and which she had hoped to gain by her -husband's election, not merely now seemed dim and remote, owing to the strong -possibility of Mr. Creswell's failure, but would now be open to Maude and -Gertrude, through the introduction of this Lady Caroline Mansergh, of whose high -standing, even amongst her equals, Marian had heard frequently from Mr. Gould, -her one link with the great world. This was a bitter blow; but it was even worse -to think that this introduction had been obtained for the girls through the -medium of Walter Joyce--the man she had despised and rejected on account of his -poverty and social insignificance, and who now not merely enjoyed himself, but -had apparently the power of dispensing to others, benefits for which she sighed -in vain. Now, for the first time, she began to appreciate the estimation in -which Walter was held by those whose esteem was worth having. Hitherto she had -only thought that the talent for "writing" which he had unexpectedly developed -had made him useful to a political party, who, availing themselves of his -services in a time of need, gave him the chance Of establishing himself in life; -but so far as position was concerned, he seemed to have already had, and already -to have availed himself of, that chance; for here was the sister of an earl, a -woman of rank and acknowledged position, eager to show her delight in doing him -service! "And that position," said Marian to herself, "I might have shared with -him! Marriage with me would not have sapped his brain or lessened any of those -wonderful qualities which have won him such renown. To such a man a career is -always open, and a career means not merely sufficient wealth, but distinction -and fame. And I rejected him--for what?"</p> - -<p>These reflections and others of similar import formed a constant subject for -Marian's mental exercitation, and invariably left her a prey to discontent and -something very like remorse. The glamour of money-possession had faded away; she -had grown accustomed to all it had brought her, and was keenly alive to what it -had not brought her, and, what she had expected of it--pleasant society, -agreeable friends, elevated position. In her own heart she felt herself -undervaluing the power of great riches, and thinking how much better was it to -have a modest competence sufficient for one's wants, sufficient to keep one from -exposure to the shifts and pinches of such poverty as she had known in her early -life, when combined with a position in life which gave one the chance of holding -one's own amongst agreeable people, rather than to be the Croesus gaped at by -wondering yokels, or capped to by favour-seeking tenants. A few months before, -such thoughts would have been esteemed almost blasphemous by Marian; but she -held them now, and felt half inclined to resent on her husband his ignorant and -passive share in the arrangement which had substituted him for Walter Joyce.</p> - -<p>That was the worst of all. After Maude and Gertrude Creswell left -Woolgreaves, an unseen but constantly present inmate was added to the household, -who sat between husband and wife, and whispered into their ears alternately. His -name was Doubt, and to Mr. Creswell he said--"What has become of all those fine -resolutions which you made on your brother Tom's death?--resolutions about -taking his children under your roof, and never losing sight of them until they -left as happy brides? Where are they now? Those resolutions have been broken, -have they not? The girls, Tom's daughters--orphan daughters, mind--have been -sent away from what you had taught them to look upon as their home--sent away on -some trivial excuse of temper--and where are they now? You don't know!--you, the -uncle, the self-constituted guardian--positively don't know where they are! You -have had the address given you, of course, but you cannot imagine the place, for -you have never seen it; you cannot picture to yourself the lady with whom they -are said to be staying, for you never saw her, and, until your wife explained -who she was, you had scarcely even heard of her. Your wife! Ah! that is a -pleasant subject! You've found her all that you expected, have you not? So -clever, clear-headed, bright, and, withal, so docile and obedient? Yet she it -was who quarrelled with your nieces, and told you that either she or they must -leave your house. She it was who saw them depart with delight, and who never -bated one jot of her satisfaction when she noticed, as she cannot have failed to -notice, your emotion and regret. Look back into the past, man--think of the -woman who was your trusted helpmate in the old days of your poverty and -struggle!--think of her big heart, her indomitable courage, her loving womanly -nature, beaming ever more brightly when the dark shadows gathered round your -lives!--think of her, man, compare her with this one, and see the difference!"</p> - -<p>And to Marian the dim personage said--"You, a young woman, handsome, clever, -and with a lover who worshipped you, have bartered yourself away to that old man -sitting there--for what? A fine house, which no one comes to see--carriages, in -which you ride to a dull country town to receive the bows of a dozen -shopkeepers, and drive home again--hawbuck servants, who talk against you as -they talk against every one, but always more maliciously against any whom they -have known in a different degree of life--and the title of the squire's lady! -You are calculated to enjoy life which you will never behold, and to shine in -society to which you will never be admitted. You wanted money, and now you have -it, and how much good has it done you? Would it not have been better to have -waited a little--just a little--not to have been quite so eager to throw away -the worshipping lover, who has done so well, as it has turned out, and who is in -every way but ill replaced by the old gentleman sitting there?"</p> - -<p>The promptings of the dim presence worked uncomfortably on both the occupants -of Woolgreaves, but they had the greatest effect on the old gentleman sitting -there. With the departure of the girls, and the impossibility which attended his -efforts to soften his wife's coldness and do away with the vindictive feeling -which she entertained towards his nieces, Mr. Creswell seemed to enter on a new -and totally different sphere of existence. The bright earnest man of business -became doddering and vague, his cheery look was supplanted by a worn, haggard, -fixed regard; his step, which had been remarkably elastic and vigorous for a man -of his years, became feeble and slow, and he constantly sat with his hand -tightly pressed on his side, as though to endeavour to ease some gnawing pain. A -certain amount of coldness and estrangement between him and Marian, which ensued -immediately after his nieces' departure, had increased so much as entirely to -change the ordinary current of their lives; the pleasant talk which he used to -originate, and which she would pursue with such brightness and earnestness as to -cause him the greatest delight, had dwindled down into a few careless inquiries -on her part, and meaningless replies from him; and the evenings, which he had -looked forward to with such pleasure, were now passed in almost unbroken -silence.</p> - -<p>One day Mr. Gould, the election agent, arrived from London at Brocksopp, and, -without going into the town, ordered the fly which he engaged at the station to -drive him straight to Woolgreaves. On his arrival there he asked for Mrs. -Creswell. The servant, who recognised him and knew his business--what servant at -houses which we are in the habit of frequenting does not know our business and -all about us, and has his opinion, generally unfavourable, of us and our -affairs?--doubted whether he had heard aright, and replied that his master had -gone to Brocksopp, and would be found either at the mills or at his -committee-rooms. But Mr. Gould renewed his inquiry for Mrs. Creswell, and was -conducted by the wondering domestic to that lady's boudoir. The London agent, -always sparse of compliments, spoke on this occasion with even more than usual -brevity.</p> - -<p>"I came to see you to-day, Mrs. Creswell, and not your husband," said he, "as -I think you are more likely to comprehend my views, and to offer me some -advice."</p> - -<p>"Regarding the election, Mr. Gould?"</p> - -<p>"Regarding the election, of course. I want to put things in a clear light to -you, and, as you're a remarkably clear-headed woman--oh no, I never flatter, I -don't get time enough--you'll be able to turn 'em in your mind, and think what's -best to be done. I should have made the communication to your husband six months -ago, but he's grown nervous and fidgety lately, and I'd sooner have the -advantage of your clear brain."</p> - -<p>"You are very good--do you think Mr. Creswell's looking ill?"</p> - -<p>"Well--I was going to say you mustn't be frightened, but that's not -likely--you're too strong-minded, Mrs. Creswell. The fact is, I do see a great -difference in the old--I mean Mr. Creswell--during the last few weeks, and not -only I, but the people too."</p> - -<p>"You mean some of the electors?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, some of his own people, good staunch friends. They say they can't get -anything out of him now, can't pin him to a question. He used to be clear and -straightforward, and now he wanders away into something else, and sits -mumchance, and doesn't answer any questions at all."</p> - -<p>"And you have come to consult me about this?"</p> - -<p>"I've come to say to you that this won't do at all. He is pledged to go to -the poll, and he must go, cheerily and pleasantly, though there is no doubt -about it that we shall get an awful thrashing."</p> - -<p>"You think so?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure so. We were doing very well at first, and Mr. Creswell is very much -respected and all that, and he would have beat that young -What's-his-name--Bokenham--without very much trouble. But this Joyce is a horse -of a different colour. Directly he started the current seemed to turn. He's a -good-looking fellow, and they like that; and a self-made man, and they like -that; and he speaks capitally, tells 'em facts which they can understand, and -they like that. He has done capitally from the first; and now they've got up -some story--Harrington did that, I fancy, young Harrington acting for Potter and -Fyfe, very clever fellow--they've got up some story that Joyce was jilted some -time ago by the girl he was engaged to, who threw him over because he was poor, -or something of that sort, I can't recollect the details--and that has been a -splendid card with the women; they are insisting on their husbands' voting for -him; so that altogether we're in a bad way."</p> - -<p>"Do you think Mr. Creswell will be defeated, Mr. Gould? You'll tell me -honestly, of course."</p> - -<p>"It's impossible to say until the day, quite impossible, my dear Mrs. -Creswell; but I'm bound to confess it looks horribly like it. By what I -understand from Mr. Croke, who wrote to me the other day, Mr. Creswell has given -up attending public meetings, and that kind of thing, and that's foolish, very -foolish."</p> - -<p>"His health has been anything but good lately, and----"</p> - -<p>"I know; and of course his spirits have been down also. But he must keep them -up, and he must go to the poll, even if he's beaten."</p> - -<p>"And the chances of that are, you think, strong?"</p> - -<p>"Are, I fear, very strong! However, something might yet be done if he were to -do a little house-to-house canvassing in his old bright spirits. But in any -case, Mrs. Creswell, he must stick to his guns, and we look to you to keep him -there!"</p> - -<p>"I will do my best," said Marian, and the interview was at an end.</p> - -<p>As the door closed behind Mr. Gould, Marian flung herself into an easy-chair, -and the bitter tears of rage welled up into her eyes. So it was destined that -this man was to cross her path to her detriment for the rest of her life. Oh, -what terrible shame and humiliation to think of him winning the victory from -them, more especially after her interview with him, and the avowal of her -intense desire to be successful in the matter! There could be no doubt about the -result. Mr. Gould was understood, she had heard, to be in general inclined to -take a hopeful view of affairs; but his verdict on the probable issue of the -Brocksopp election was unmistakably dolorous. What a bitter draught to swallow, -what frightful mortification to undergo! What could be done? It would be -impolitic to tell Mr. Creswell of his agent's fears; and even if he were told of -them, he was just the man who would more than ever insist on fighting until the -very last, and would not imagine that there was any disgrace in being beaten -after gallant combat by an honourable antagonist. And there was no possible way -out of it, unless--great Heaven, what a horrible thought!--unless he were to -die. That would settle it; there would be no defeat for him then, and she would -be left free, rich, and with the power to---- She must not think of anything so -dreadful. The noise of wheels on the gravel, the carriage at the door, and her -husband descending. How wearily he drags his limbs down the steps, what -lassitude there is in every action, and how wan his cheeks are! He is going -towards the drawing-room on the ground-floor, and she hastens to meet him there.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter? Are you ill?"</p> - -<p>"Very--very ill; but pleased to see you, to get back home." This with a touch -of the old manner, and in the old voice. "Very ill, Marian; weak, and down, and -depressed. I can't stand it, Marian; I feel I can't."</p> - -<p>"What is it that seems too much for you?"</p> - -<p>"All this worry and annoyance, this daily contact with all these horrible -people. I must give it up, Marian; I must give it up!"</p> - -<p>"You must give what up, dear?"</p> - -<p>"This election. All the worry of it, the preliminary worry, has been nigh to -kill me, and I must have no more of it!"</p> - -<p>"Well, but think----"</p> - -<p>"I have thought, and I'm determined; that is, if you think so too. I'll give -it up, I'll retire; anything to have done with it!"</p> - -<p>"But what will people say----?"</p> - -<p>"What people, who have a right to say anything?"</p> - -<p>"Your committee, I mean--those who have been working for you so earnestly and -so long."</p> - -<p>"I don't care what they say. My health is more important than anything -else--and you ought to think so, Marian!"</p> - -<p>He spoke with a nervous irritability such as she had never previously noticed -in him, and looked askance at her from under his gray eyebrows. He began to -think that there might be some foundation of truth in Gertrude's out-blurted -sentiment, that Mrs. Creswell thought of nothing in comparison with her own -self-interest. Certainly her conduct now seemed to give colour to the assertion, -for Marian seemed annoyed at the idea of his withdrawal from seeking a position -by which she would be benefited, even where his health was concerned.</p> - -<p>Mr. Creswell was mistaken. Marian, in her inmost heart, had hailed this -determination of her husband's with the greatest delight, seeing in it, if it -were carried out, an excellent opportunity for escaping the ignominy of a defeat -by Walter Joyce. But after this one conversation, which she brought to a close -by hinting that of course his wishes should be acted upon, but it would perhaps -be better to leave things as they were, and not come to any definite conclusion -for the present, she did not allude to the subject, but occupied her whole time -in attending to her husband, who needed all her care. Mr. Creswell was indeed -very far from well. He went into town occasionally, and, at Marian's earnest -request, still busied himself a little about the affairs a the election, but in -a very spiritless manner; and when he came home he would go straight to the -library, and there, ensconced in an easy-chair, sit for hours staring vacantly -before him, the shadow of his former self. At times, too, Marian would find his -eyes fixed on her, watching all her motions, following her about the room, not -with the lingering loving looks of old, but with an odd furtive glance; and -there was a pitiful expression about his mouth, too, at those times, which was -not pleasant to behold. Marian wondered what her husband was thinking of. It was -a good thing that she did not know; for as he looked at her---and his heart did -not refuse to acknowledge the prettiness, and the grace, and the dignity which -his eyes rested on--the old man was wondering within himself what could have -induced him, at his time of life, to marry again--what could have induced her, -seemingly all sweetness and kindness, to take an inveterate hatred to those two -poor girls, Maude and Gertrude, who had been turned out of the house, forced to -leave the home which they had every right to consider theirs, and he had been -too weak, too much infatuated with Marian, to prevent the execution of her -plans. But that should not be. He was ill then, but he would soon be better, and -so soon as he found himself a little stronger he would assume his proper -position, and have the girls back again. He had been giving way too much -recently, and must assert himself. He was glad now he had said nothing about -giving up the election to any one save Marian, as he should certainly go on with -it--it would be a little healthy excitement to him; he had suffered himself to -fall into very dull moping ways, but he would soon be all right. If he could -only get rid of that odd numbing pain in the left arm, he should soon be all -right.</p> - -<p> -Little Dr. Osborne was in the habit of retiring to rest at an early hour. In the -old days, before his "girl" married, he liked to sit up and hear her warble away -at her piano, letting himself be gradually lulled off to sleep by the music; and -in later times, when his fireside was lonely and when he was not expecting any -special work, he would frequently drive over to Woolgreaves, or to the -Churchill's at the Park, and play a rubber. But since he had quarrelled with -Mrs. Creswell, since her "most disrespectful treatment of him," as he phrased -it, he had never crossed the threshold at Woolgreaves, and the people at the -Park were away wintering in Italy, so that the little doctor generally finished -his modest tumbler of grog at half-past ten and "turned in" soon after. He was a -sound sleeper, his housekeeper was deaf, and the maid, who slept up in the roof, -never heard anything, not even her own snoring, so that a late visitor had a bad -chance of making his presence known. A few nights after the events just -recorded, however, one of Mr. Creswell's grooms attached his horse to the -doctor's railings and gave himself up to performing on the bell with such energy -and determination, that after two minutes a window opened and the doctor's voice -was heard demanding, "Who's there?"</p> - -<p>"Sam, from Woolgreaves, doctor, wi' a note."</p> - -<p>"From Woolgreaves!--a note! What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Squire's bad, had a fit, I heerd housekeeper say, and madam she have wrote -this note for you! Come down, doctor; it's marked 'mediate, madam said. Do come -down!"</p> - -<p>"Eh?--what--Woolgreaves--had a fit--Mrs. Creswell--I'm coming!" and the -window was shut, and in a few minutes Sam was shivering in the hall, while the -doctor read the note by the gaslight in his surgery. "Hum!--'No doubt you'll be -surprised'--should think so, indeed--'has been long ill'--thought so when I saw -him in the Corn Exchange on Saturday--'just now had some kind of frightful -seizure'--poor dear old friend--'calls for you--insists on seeing you--for God's -sake come'--dear me, dear me!" And the doctor wiped his honest old eyes on the -back of his tattered old dressing-gown, and poured out a glass of brandy for -Sam, and another for himself, and gave the groom the key of the stable, and bade -him harness the pony, for he should be ready in five minutes.</p> - -<p>The house was all aroused, lights were gleaming in the windows, as the doctor -drove up the avenue, and Marian was standing in the hall when he entered. She -stepped forward to meet him, but there was something in the old man's look which -stopped her from putting out her hand as she had intended, so they merely bowed -gravely, and she led the way to her husband's room, where she left him.</p> - -<p>Half an hour elapsed before Dr. Osborne reappeared. His face was very grave -and his eyes were red. This time it was he who made the advance. A year ago he -would have put his arm round Marian's neck and kissed her on the forehead. Those -days were past, but he took her hand, and in reply to her hurried question, -"What do you think of him?" said, "I think, Mrs. Creswell, that my old friend is -very ill. It would be useless to disguise it--very ill indeed. His life is an -important one, and you may think it necessary to have another opinion"--this a -little pompously said, and met with a gesture of dissent from Marian--"but in -mine, no time must be lost in removing him, I should say, abroad, far away from -any chance of fatigue or excitement."</p> - -<p>"But, Dr. Osborne--the--the election!"</p> - -<p>"To go through the election, Mrs. Creswell, would kill him at once! He would -never survive the nomination day!"</p> - -<p>"It will be a dreadful blow to him," said Marian. But she thought to herself, -"Here is the chance of our escape from the humiliation of defeat by Walter -Joyce! A means of evoking sympathy instead of contempt!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h4> -<h5>TOO LATE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Dr. Osborne's opinion of Mr. Creswell's serious state, and the absolute -necessity for the old gentleman's immediate withdrawal from everything -calculated to cause worry or excitement, consequently from the election, was -soon promulgated through Brocksopp, and caused the greatest consternation -amongst the supporters of the Tory policy. Mr. Teesdale was summoned at once to -Woolgreaves, and there had a long interview with Mrs. Creswell, who convinced -him--he had been somewhat incredulous at first, being a wary man of the world, -and holding the principle that doubt and disbelief were on the whole the safest -and most remunerative doctrines--that it was physically impossible for her -husband to continue the contest. The interview took place in the large, -carpeted, and furnished bow-window recess on the landing immediately outside the -door of Mr. Creswell's room, and, as Mr. Teesdale afterwards remarked in -conversation with Mr. Gould, whom he summoned by telegraph from London, there -was no question of any malingering or shamming on the old gentleman's part, as -he could be heard groaning, poor old boy, in a very lamentable manner, and Dr. -Osborne, who called at the time, said his patient was by no means out of the -wood yet. Mr. Teesdale's talk, professional as it was, was tinged with more -sympathy and respect for the sufferer than were Mr. Gould's remarks. Mr. -Teesdale had other relations in business with Mr. Creswell; he was his land -agent and general business representative, had known him intimately for years, -and had experienced innumerable kindnesses at his hands; whereas, Mr. Gould had -simply made Mr. Creswell's acquaintance in his capacity of Conservative -candidates' dry-nurse, and Mr. Creswell was to him merely an errant and peccant -ninepin, which, from fate or its own shortcomings, it was impossible for him, -skilful "setter-up" though he were, to put properly on end. He saw this after -five minutes' conversation with his local representative, Mr. Teesdale, and saw -that there was an end of his chance, so far as Brocksopp was concerned. "It -won't do here, Teesdale," he said; "this finishes our business It hasn't looked -very promising throughout, but if this old character had gone to the poll, and -specially if he had said one or two things you could have crammed him with on -the nomination day, we might have pulled through! You see he's so eminently -respectable, and though he, of course, is not to be compared with this young -chap that Potter and Fyfe's people have got hold of--and where they dug him up -astonishes me! Newspaper office, eh? 'Gad, we haven't got much of that sort of -stuff in the newspaper offices of our party-I'm not sure that we couldn't have -got him in. They'd have had the show of hands and the hurraying and all that; -but we know how much that's worth, and what with Sir George Neal's people and -our own, we could have run him deuced close, even if we didn't win. Nuisance it -is, too, for he's kept us from running anybody else. There was young Clare, Sir -Willis Clare's eldest son, was up in Pall Mall the other day, ready to go in for -anything, and with rather a hankering for this place, which his father sat for -once; but I said we were booked, and now--confound it!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Teesdale was scarcely less upset. He talked vaguely of getting Mr. -Creswell's consent, so soon, as he was sufficiently recovered to be able to -entertain the topic, to the substitution of some good Conservative candidate in -his place; but Mr. Gould treated this proposition with a scornful laugh, and -told him that they would have had to do all they knew to pull Mr. Creswell -through, and that to attempt to run anybody else at that late period would be -madness. So a private meeting of the principal supporters of the party was held -at the Lion, and Mr. Gould--who had run up to London in the interim, and had an -interview with the chief wire-pullers--announced that in consequence of Mr. -Creswell's unfortunate illness, it had been decided to withdraw him from the -candidature, and, as there was no prospect of success for any one else who might -be started in the same interest, to refrain from contesting the borough at this -election. This announcement was received in dead silence, broken by Mr. Croke's -frank and outspoken denunciation of the cowardice, the "trem'lousness," the "not -to put too foin p'int upon it, the funk" which seemed to have seized upon some -as "owt t' knaw better." The meeting was held in the evening, most of the -company present had steaming glasses of grog before them, and Mr. Croke's -outspoken oratory elicited a vast amount of applause and knocking on the tables -with the stalwart feet of the tumblers. A young farmer of the neighbourhood, -popular from his openhandedness and, his skill in rifle-shooting--he was -champion badge-holder in the local volunteers--rose and suggested that any such -abject surrender as that proposed was ill-advised and inexpedient, and sat down, -after finishing a long rambling speech, the purport of which was that some one -should be put forward to fill the gap created by Mr. Creswell's lamented but -unavoidable illness. That the gap should be filled, seemed to be a popular idea; -but each of the ten or twelve speakers who subsequently addressed the meeting -had different people for the post: and it was not until Mr. Teesdale pointed out -the utter futility of attempting to begin the fight anew under a fresh banner, -confessing that they would have had very great difficulty in bringing matters to -a successful issue even with all the prestige of Mr. Creswell's name and -position, that it seemed to dawn upon the meeting that their chance was -hopeless. This had been told them at the outset by Mr. Gould; but he was from -London, and, consequently, in the ideas of the farmers present, steeped in -duplicity of every kind, and labouring under an impossibility of truth-speaking. -Mr. Teesdale had infinitely more weight with his audience. They knew him as a -man whose word was to be relied on, and the impossibility of doing anything -beyond swallowing the bitter pill was acknowledged among them from that moment. -True, that the pill was so bitter as to require the consumption of an -extraordinary amount of brandy-and-water to get it down, a fact which helped to -console old Tilley, the landlord, for the shock to his political principles. It -is to be noted, also, that after the withdrawal of Messrs. Gould and Teesdale, -the meeting gave itself up to harmony of a lugubrious character, and dismal -ditties, mixed with fierce denunciations of democrats and reformers, were borne -away on the still night air.</p> - -<p>So, within a day or two, the walls of Brocksopp were covered with placards -signed in Mr. Creswell's name, setting forth the sad cause which prevented him -from further exertion in the interests of freedom and purity of election, -lamenting the impossibility of being able conscientiously to recommend a proper -candidate to the constituency at so short a notice, but bidding the electors not -to despair so long as there remained to them a House of Lords and an omniscient -aristocracy. This document, which was the production of Mr. Teesdale (Mr. Gould -had been called away to superintend certain other strongholds where the -fortifications showed signs of crumbling), was supplemented by the copy of a -medical certificate from Dr. Osborne, which stated that Mr. Creswell's condition -was such as to imperatively demand the utmost quietude, and that any such -excitement as that to be caused by entering on an election contest would -probably cost him his life.</p> - -<p>The news was already known at the enemy's headquarters. On the morning after -the meeting at the Lion, Mr. Harrington, who had been duly informed of all that -had taken place by a spy in whom he could place implicit confidence, walked over -to Shuttleworth, the nearest telegraphic station, and thence despatched the -following enigmatic message to his firm: "Brocksopp Stakes. Old Horse broken -down in training. Our Colt will walk over." It happened that Mr. Potter was -alone when this telegram arrived, and to him it was utterly unintelligible; but -Mr. Fyfe, who came in shortly afterwards, and who was acquainted with and -tolerant of the vagaries of his clerk's intellect, soon guessed at the -situation, and explained it to his partner.</p> - -<p>So it fell out that the election for Brocksopp, which had attracted attention -even amongst great people in the political world, and which was looked forward -to with intense interest in the neighbourhood, passed off in the quietest and -tamest manner. The mere fact of the knowledge that there was to be no -opposition, no contest, robbed the nomination day of all its interest to -hundreds of farmers in outlying places, who did not care to give up a day's work -when there was to be no "scrimmage" as a requital for their sacrifice of time; -and the affair was consequently thoroughly orderly and commonplace. There were -comparatively few persons present, and five minutes after Joyce's speech, in -which he returned thanks for the honour done to him, and alluded with much nice -feeling to his late opponent's illness, had concluded, the market-square was -deserted, and the clumsy hustings remained the sole memorial of the event to -which so many had looked forward for so long.</p> - -<p>Jack Byrne was horribly disgusted at the tame manner in which the victory had -been won. The old man's life had been passed in the arena: he was never as happy -as when he or some of his chosen friends were on the verge of conflict; and to -see the sponge thrown up when the boy whom he had trained with so much care, and -on whom he placed every dependence, was about to meet with, a foeman worthy of -his steel, who would take an immense deal of beating, and whom it would be a -signal honour to vanquish, annoyed the old free lance beyond measure. It was -only by constantly repeating to himself that his boy, his Walter, whom he had -picked up starving and friendless at Bliffkins's coffee-house, was now a member -of Parliament, with the opportunity of uttering in the British senate those -doctrines which he had so often thundered forth amidst the vociferous applause -of the club, those opinions with which he, old Jack Byrne, had indoctrinated -him, that he was able to perceive that, although without any grand blaze of -triumph, a great result had been achieved. Mr. Harrington, too, was by no means -pleased that all his jockeyship should have been thrown away on so tame an event. -He admitted as much to Mr. South, the local agent, who was mildly rejoicing in -the bloodless victory, and who was grateful for the accident by which success -had been secured. Mr. Harrington entirely dissented from this view of the -case. "I call it hard," he said, "deuced hard, that when I had reduced -the thing to a moral, when I had made all arrangements for a waiting race, -letting the other side go ahead, as I knew they would, making the running -like mad, and getting pumped before the distance; we waiting on them -quietly, and then just at the last coming with a rush, and beating them on -the post,--I say it is deuced hard when a fellow has given all his time and -brains to arranging this; to find he's reduced to a mere w.o. To be sure, as -you say, one collars the stakes all the same, but still it ain't sport!"</p> - -<p>There was one person, however, to whom the knowledge that the election had -gone off flatly was delightful--Marian Creswell. As she had stood that night in -her dressing-gown, with her dishevelled hair hanging over her shoulders, -listening to Dr. Osborne's verdict on her husband's state, she had seen in his -strongly pronounced opinion a safe, plausible, and immediate chance of escape -from that most dreaded defeat by Walter Joyce at the election; and though she -had apparently received the decision with deepest regret, she was inwardly -delighted. At all events, there would be no absolute victory. Walter Joyce could -not go away and tell his friends in the great world in London that he had -defeated his adversary. No one could say what might have been the issue of the -contest had Mr. Creswell's health not given way; and Marian was perfectly -confident that Walter's chivalrous nature would prevent his ever mentioning to -any one the interview which had taken place between him and her, or what passed -thereat. On the whole, it was the best thing that could have happened for her. -She had for some time foreseen that there was no chance of establishing herself -in society through the election as she had once hoped; and anything would be -better than that she should suffer defeat--absolute defeat--in a matter which -she had so nearly at heart.</p> - -<p>Anything? her husband's illness, dangerous illness, for instance? Yes, -anything. She had never pretended to herself that she had loved Mr. Creswell. -She had done her duty by him strictly, even to casting out all thoughts, all -remembrance, of the lover of her youth; and it is an odd and not a very -gratifying sign of the weakness of the human heart to think that Marian had -frequently taken credit to herself for the sense of wifely duty which had -induced her to eliminate all memories of early days, and all recollections of -Walter Joyce, from her mind. Her husband was very much her senior; she could not -have hoped that he would live very long, and if he were to be removed---- There -was, however, no question of that at present. Within a few days of the attack to -which Dr. Osborne had been called, Mr. Creswell had recovered consciousness, and -gradually had so far mended as to be able to take interest in what was passing -round him. One of his first expressed wishes was to see Mr. Benthall, and when -that gentleman, who was very much touched by the sight of the old man's altered -expression, and wandering eyes, and strange twitching face, was left alone with -him, he asked hurriedly, but earnestly, for news of the girls, his nieces, and -seemed much relieved when he heard they were well and happy. To Marian her -husband's manner was wonderfully altered. He was kind always, occasionally -affectionate, but he seemed to have lost all that utter trust, that reliant -worship, which had so characterised his attentions to her in the early days of -their marriage. Of the election he spoke freely, expressing his sorrow for the -disappointment which his friends would suffer owing to his forced defection, and -his pleasure that, since a representative of opposite politics must necessarily -be chosen, the town would have the advantage of returning a man with the high -character which he had heard on all sides ascribed to Mr. Joyce. When, on the -evening of the nomination day, Mr. Teesdale waited on his chief, and detailed to -him all that had taken place, dwelling on the mention which Joyce had made of -his absent opponent, and the high opinion which he had expressed of him, the old -gentleman was very much moved, and sank back on his pillows perfectly overcome. -Marian by no means appreciated Mr. Teesdale that evening, and got rid of him as -soon as possible. She was much pained at the display of what she considered her -husband's weakness, and determined on following Dr. Osborne's advice as to -removing him as soon as he was able to travel. It was noted just at that time -that Mrs. Creswell spoke far more favourably of her husband's state of health -than she had done for some time previously, and betrayed an unmistakable desire -to get him away from Brocksopp neighbourhood and influences without delay.</p> - -<p>When Dr. Osborne was consulted on the matter, he said that as the election, -which was the greatest risk of excitement for his patient, had now passed by, it -would depend greatly on Mr. Creswell's own feelings and wishes as to whether he -should leave his home. A change would most probably be beneficial; but the -doctor knew that his old friend had always been wedded to his home, and had a -great aversion to being away from it when no absolute necessity for his absence -existed. However, Mr. Creswell, when appealed to, seemed to have lost any vivid -interest in this as in all other matters of his life. He answered, mechanically, -that he would do just as they thought best, that he had no feeling one way or -the other about it, only let them decide. He said this in the wearied tone which -had now become habitual to him; and he looked at them with dim, lustreless eyes, -out of which all expression seemed to have faded. Dr. Osborne tried to rouse -him, but with such little success that he began to think Mr. Creswell's malady -must have made rapid progress; and he took an early opportunity of submitting -him to another examination.</p> - -<p>Marian was not aware of this. She met the doctor coming out of her husband's -room. They were on semi-friendly terms now, and she said to him--</p> - -<p>"I was coming to you, doctor, this afternoon. I have just settled to take Mr. -Creswell away for a few weeks, but of course I wanted you to see him before he -went. And now you have seen him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have just left him."</p> - -<p>"And what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"I say that he must not be moved, Mrs. Creswell; that he must remain here at -home, with every comfort that he may require, and that he must be carefully -watched and tended by us all."</p> - -<p>"Do you find him changed--for the worse? I thought myself that I had noticed -during the last few days---- Do you apprehend any immediate danger?"</p> - -<p>"He is very much changed for the worse; the disease has made great progress, -and if he were suddenly disturbed or excited I would not answer for the -consequences."</p> - -<p>"I did right, then, in refusing Mr. Teesdale access to him, yesterday. There -is some disputed election account, and Mr. Teesdale was most urgent to see Mr. -Creswell, but I thought it better to prevent him."</p> - -<p>"You aid perfectly right; he must be denied to everybody save those -immediately around him, and all matters of business and anything likely to -excite or worry him in the least must be studiously kept from him."</p> - -<p>They were descending the stairs as the doctor spoke, and in the hall they -found Mr. Teesdale, who had just ridden up in hot haste, and was parleying with -one of the servants. He took off his hat when he saw Mrs. Creswell and the -doctor, and was about to speak, but Marian was before him--"I hope you are not -again wishing to see my husband, Mr. Teesdale, as I shall be compelled again to -refuse you! Dr. Osborne here will tell you that I am acting in accordance with -his strict orders." And the doctor then repeated to the agent all that he had -just said to Marian.</p> - -<p>"It's an uncommonly vexatious thing," said Mr. Teesdale, when the doctor had -concluded: "of course it can't be helped, and whatever you say must be attended -to, but it's horribly annoying."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" asked Dr. Osborne.</p> - -<p>"A matter of Ramsay's, that truculent brute of a fellow who holds the White -Farm down Helmingham way. He's made a claim that I know the chief wouldn't -acknowledge, and that consequently I daren't pay; though, knowing the fellow as -I do, I'm not sure it wouldn't be safest and best in the long run."</p> - -<p>"Wiry don't you act on your own responsibility, then?"</p> - -<p>"Not I The chief had a throw-up with this man before, and declared he would -never give in to him again. He's an ill-conditioned scoundrel, and vows all kind -of vengeance if he isn't paid."</p> - -<p>"My good friend," said the doctor, "you and I know pretty well that Mr. -Creswell is able to laugh at the threatened vengeance of a person like this Mr. -Ramsay. I must not have my patient disturbed for any such matters. Carry on the -business yourself, Teesdale. I know what trust Mr. Creswell places in you, and I -know how well it is deserved."</p> - -<p>"Then I shall tell Mr. Ramsay to go to----"</p> - -<p>"Exactly," said the doctor, interrupting. "You could not consign him to more -fitting company."</p> - -<p>On the evening of the second day from this colloquy, Marian returned from a -long drive in her pony carriage, during which her thoughts had been of anything -but a cheerful character. She had been suffering from that horrible sinking of -heart which comes sometimes, we know not why, bringing with it the impression -that something, we know not what, save that it is unpleasant, is impending over -us. When she alighted, she inquired whether Mr. Creswell had rung for anything, -and whether Dr. Osborne had called, and received answers in the negative in both -cases. A letter marked "immediate" had come for master, that was all. A letter! -Where was it? Mr. Barlow, the butler, had taken it up to master's room, the -valet being out. Marian heard of the arrival of this letter with a strange sense -of fear, and hurried up to her husband's room.</p> - -<p>She entered noiselessly and advanced quickly to the bed. Mr. Creswell was -lying back, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes closed, his face very -gray and rigid. She thought at first that he was dead, and half screamed and -called him by his name, but then, without speaking, without looking, he -unclasped his hands, pointed to a folded paper on the coverlet, and then resumed -his former position. The letter! She took it up and read it eagerly. It was -dated from the White Farm, and signed John Ramsay. It commenced with setting -forth his claims to money which was due to him, and which he knew would have -been paid "had the squire been about," and it proceeded to revile Mr. Teesdale, -and to declare that he was robbing his employer, and "feathering his own nest." -The last paragraph ran thus--</p> - -<p>"And you must be sharp and get about again, squire, and look to your own. You -are bamboozled and cheated in every way right under your nose, in your own -house, by your own wife. Why, it's common talk in the town how you was done in -the election by Mrs. C. She had young Joyce for a sweetheart long before she -knew you, when he was a school usher, and gave him the sack and threw him over -when she wanted you and your money, which she always hankered after, and took on -with him again when she saw him down here, and got that old thief Osborne, which -overcharges the poor for his beastly drugs, to square it and keep you out of the -fun."</p> - -<p>As Marian read and re-read this paragraph she turned sick at heart and -thought she should have fainted, but was recalled to herself by a cold clammy -touch on her wrist, and looking down she saw her husband's eyes open and his -lips moving. Standing over him she heard him say--"Is it true?"</p> - -<p>"True! how can you ask me such a question? I swear it is not."</p> - -<p>"No, no, not the last part of course but any of it? That young man--was he -fond of you--were you engaged?"</p> - -<p>A bright flush suffused her face, but she answered steadily, "We were."</p> - -<p>"And what made you break with him? Why did you quarrel? You don't answer. Is -the letter right? Did you give him up for me? Did you let my position, my money, -weigh more with you than his love and his heart? Did you do this?"</p> - -<p>"And suppose I did--what then?" said Marian, with flashing eyes--"are you -here to plead his cause? Have I not been a dutiful and a proper wife to you? You -yourself have just spoken of this vile slander with the scorn it deserves Of -what then do you complain?"</p> - -<p>"Of nothing. I complain of nothing, save perhaps of your ignorance of me! Ah, -good heavens did you know me so little as to think that your happiness was not -my aim, not so much my own? Did you not know that my love for you was so little -selfish, that if I had had the least dream of your engagement to this young man, -I should have taken such delight in forwarding it and providing for you both? -You would have been near me still, you would have been a daughter to me, and---- -Lift me up the cordial--quick!" and he fell back in a faint.</p> - -<p>Dr. Osborne was sent for, and came at once, but it was plain to all that Mr. -Creswell's end was at hand. He had two severe paroxysms of pain, and then lay -perfectly still and tranquil. Marian was sitting by his bedside, and in the -middle of the night she felt his hand plucking at the sleeve of her gown. She -roused herself and looked at him. His eyes were open, and there was a bright, -happy expression on his thin face. His mind was wandering far away, back to the -early days of his poverty and his struggles, and she who had shared both was -with him. He pulled Marian to him, and she leaned eagerly forward; but it was -not of her he was thinking. "Jenny!" he said, and his tongue reverted to the old -familiar dialect which it had not used for so many years--"Jenny! coom away, -lass! Taim's oop!--that's t' mill bell ringin'! Thou'rt a brave lass, and we've -had hard taim of it; but we're near t' end now! Kiss me, Jenny! Always good and -brave, lass--always----" And so he died.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h4> -<h5>FOR ONCE GERTRUDE TAKES THE LEAD.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The lives of the two girls at Lady Caroline's were so completely happy, that -they were induced to doubt whether they had ever really lived before. The -difference between their rackety, disorderly, Bohemian existence while their -father was alive, the pinched and poverty-stricken home which they shared with -their mother until her death, and the refined comforts and luxuries which -awaited them at their uncle's, was, of course, very great. But they were too -young to feel it at the time, and they had come to look upon Woolgreaves as -their home, and until Marian Ashurst entered upon it as its mistress, as an -epitome of everything that was charming. Lady Caroline's house was much smaller -than Woolgreaves; her income, probably, was nothing like their uncle's; and yet -about her house and her servants, her carriage, and everything she had, there -was a stamp of refinement and of good taste, springing from high breeding, such -as they had never witnessed, even under Mrs. Creswell's <i>régime</i>;and -whatever other fault the girls found with Mrs. Creswell, they invariably allowed -her the possession of good taste. And Lady Caroline herself was so different, so -immeasurably superior to any woman they had ever seen. With the exception of -Lady Churchill, they had known no one save the village people and the wives of -the principal manufacturers at Brocksopp, who had been daughters of other -principal manufacturers at Shuttleworth and Combcardingham, and might have been -made in one mould, or punched out of one piece; and Lady Churchill was a stupid -old woman in a brown front, who, as Gertrude knew, said "obleege," and "apurn" -for apron, and "know-ledge," and nearly drove you mad by the way in which she -stared at you, and rubbed her nose with a knitting-needle, while you were -attempting to find conversation for her. But, in the girls' eyes, Lady Caroline -was perfection; and it would have been indeed odd had they not thought her so, -as, for reasons best known to herself, she went in more determinedly to make -herself agreeable to them than she had done to any one for some years previous.</p> - -<p>One reason was that she liked the girls, and was agreeably disappointed in -them; had expected to find them provincial <i>parvenues</i>,thrown upon her by -their quarrel with a person of similar position and disposition with themselves, -and had found them quiet lady-like young women, unpretentious, unobtrusive, and -thoroughly grateful to her for the home which she had offered them in their time -of need. From the step which she had taken so chivalrously Lady Caroline never -shrank, but she told the girls plainly, in the presence of Mr. Joyce, that she -thought it highly desirable that the fact of their being there as her guests -should be officially made known to Mr. Creswell, to whom every consideration was -due. As to Mrs. Creswell, there was no necessity to acknowledge her in the -matter; but Mr. Creswell was not merely their nearest blood relation, but, until -adverse influences had been brought to bear upon him, he had proved himself -their most excellent friend; and even at the last, so far as Lady Caroline could -gather from Gertrude, had made some feeble kind of fight against their leaving -his house. Mr. Joyce and the girls themselves were also of this opinion, -Gertrude jumping at the prospect of any reconciliation with "dear old uncle," -but avowing her determination to have nothing more to do with "that horrid -madam;" and it was on Maude's suggestion, backed by Walter, that the services of -Mr. Gould were employed for mediatory purposes. This was just before the -election, and Mr. Gould declared it was utterly impossible for him to attend to -anything that did not relate to blue and yellow topics; but a little later he -wrote a very kind letter, announcing Mr. Creswell's illness, and deploring the -strict necessity for keeping from the old gentleman any subjects of an exciting -nature.</p> - -<p>The corroboration of this bad news was brought to the little household in -Chesterfield Street by Mr. Benthall, who, about that time, ran up to London for -a week, and, it is needless to say, lost very little time in presenting himself -to Miss Gertrude. The relations between the Helmingham schoolmaster and Gertrude -Creswell were, of course, perfectly well known to Lady Caroline through Walter -Joyce, who had explained to her ladyship that the causeless exclusion of Mr. -Benthall from Woolgreaves had been the means of bringing about the final -domestic catastrophe, and had led more immediately than anything else to the -departure of the young ladies from their uncle's house. So that Lady Caroline -was predisposed in the clergyman's favour, and the predisposition was by no -means decreased when she made his acquaintance, and found him to be one of the -Shropshire Benthalls, people of excellent family (a fact which always has -immense weight with other people who can make the same boast), and essentially a -man of the world and of society. A girl like Gertrude Creswell, who, charming -though she was, was clearly nobody, might think herself lucky in getting a man -of family to marry her. Of course, Mrs. Creswell could not understand that kind -of thing, and took a mere pounds, shillings, and pence view of the question; but -Mrs. Creswell had no real dominion over her husband's nieces, and as that -husband was now too ill to be appealed to, and the girls were staying under her -chaperonage, she should, in the exercise of her discretion, give Mr. Benthall -full opportunity for seeing as much of Gertrude as he chose.</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline did not come to this determination without consulting Walter -Joyce, and Walter did not express his opinion without consulting Maude Creswell, -of whose clear head and calm common sense he had conceived a high opinion. The -joint decision being favourable, Mr. Benthall had a very happy holiday in -London, finding, if such a thing were possible, his regard for Gertrude -increased by the scarcely hidden admiration which the bright complexion, pretty -hair, and trim figure of the country girl evoked from the passers-by in the -public places to which he escorted her. Indeed, so completely changed by an -honest passion for an honest girl was this, at one time, selfish and calculating -man of the world, that he was most anxious to marry Gertrude at once, without -any question of settlement or reference to her uncle, declaring that, however -Mrs. Creswell might now choose to sneer at it, the school income had maintained -a gentleman and his wife before, and could be made to do so again.</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall spoke with such earnestness, that Joyce conceived a much higher -opinion of him than he had hitherto entertained, and would have counselled Lady -Caroline to lend her aid to the accomplishment of the schoolmaster's wish, had -it not been for Maude, who pointed out that in such a case a reference was -undoubtedly due to their uncle, no matter what might be his supposed state of -health. If he were really too ill to have the matter submitted to him, and an -answer--which, of course, would be unfavourable--were to be received from Mrs. -Creswell, they might then act on their own responsibility, with the feeling that -they had done their duty towards the old gentleman, and without the smallest -care as to what his wife might say.</p> - -<p>This view of Maude's, expressed to Joyce with much diffidence, at once -convinced him of its soundness, and a little conversation with those most -interested showed them the wisdom of adopting it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall wrote a straightforward manly letter to Mr. Creswell, asking -consent to his marriage with Gertrude. The day after its despatch, Maude the -impassible, who was reading the <i>Times</i>,gave a suppressed shriek, and let -the paper fall to the ground. Joyce, who was sitting close by talking to Lady -Caroline, picked it up, and read in it the announcement of Mr. Creswell's death.</p> - -<p>Of course this news caused an indefinite postponement of the marriage. The -two girls grieved with deep and heartfelt sorrow for the loss of the kind old -man. All little differences of the past few months were forgotten. Marian had no -part in their thoughts, which were all of the early days, when, two miserable -little orphans, they were received at Woolgreaves, at once put into the position -of daughters of the house, and where their every wish was studied and gratified.</p> - -<p>Gertrude's grief was especially violent, and she raved against the hard fate -which had separated them from their uncle at a time when they would have so much -wished to have been near him to minister to and nurse him.</p> - -<p>Evidence soon came that Mr. Creswell's sense of what was honourable and right -had prevented him from allowing any recent events to influence his intentions -towards his nieces. In his will they were mentioned as "my dearly loved Maude -and Gertrude, daughters of my deceased brother Thomas, who have been to me as my -own daughters during the greater part of their lives;" and to each of them was -left the sum of ten thousand pounds on their coming of age or marriage. There -were a few legacies to old servants and local charities, five hundred pounds -each to Dr. Osborne and Mr. Teesdale, his two executors, and "all the rest of my -property, real and personal, of every kind whatsoever, to my beloved wife -Marian."</p> - -<p>"And my beloved wife Marian will have about fifteen thousand a year, as near -as I can fix it," said Mr. Teesdale, as he left Woolgreaves, after the reading -of the will; "and if the railway people take that twenty acres off that infernal -Jack Ramsay's farm, about a couple of thou' more!"</p> - -<p>It was not to be supposed that Mr. Benthall professed himself indifferent to -the splendid legacy which Gertrude had inherited. As he had been willing and -anxious to take her for herself, and to share what he had with her, so he was -very much pleased to find that their future would be rendered considerably less -anxious, and more comfortable than they had anticipated, and in his honest -open-hearted way he did not scruple to say so.</p> - -<p>The death of their uncle did not make any difference in the course of the -girls' lives. They still remained with Lady Caroline, whose regard for them -seemed to increase daily; and it was understood that they would continue to -inhabit Chesterfield Street until Gertrude was married, and that after that -event Maude would frequently return there, making it her London home, and -visiting it whenever she was not staying with her sister. So at least Lady -Caroline proposed, and begged Mr. Benthall to make the suggestion to Maude at -the first convenient opportunity. The opportunity occurred very shortly, and -arose from Maude's saying, when they were sitting together one morning--</p> - -<p>"I saw Mr. Joyce yesterday, George, and took occasion to ask his advice on -that matter."</p> - -<p>"And what might that matter be, Maude? There are so many matters of -importance on just now, that you must be more definite."</p> - -<p>"It is well Gertrude is not here to hear you! In your present condition there -should be only one matter of any importance to you, and that of course is--"</p> - -<p>"Our marriage--to be sure! Well, you asked Joyce--what a wonderful fellow he -is, by the way; his parliamentary business does not seem the least to have -interfered with his writing, and with it all he seems to find time to come up -here two or three times a week."</p> - -<p>"He has the highest regard for Lady Caroline, and the greatest respect for -her judgment," said Maude.</p> - -<p>"Naturally, so have we all," said Mr. Benthall, with a gradually spreading -smile.</p> - -<p>"Yes; but Mr. Joyce consults her in--how ridiculous you are, George! you're -always saying stupid things and forgetting your subject. What were we talking -about?"</p> - -<p>"I like that; and you talk about forgetfulness! You were saying that you had -spoken to Mr. Joyce about my marriage, though why you should have----"</p> - -<p>"Don't be tiresome, you know what I mean! He perfectly agrees with you in -thinking there is no necessity for postponing the marriage any further. Poor -uncle has now been dead three months, and you have no necessity to consider -whether Mrs. Creswell might think it too soon after that event or not!"</p> - -<p>"We have no reason to be bound by what she would say, but I think it would be -only right in Gertrude to write and tell her that the wedding is about to take -place."</p> - -<p>"That you and Gertrude must settle between you. For my part, I should not -think of---- However, I confess my judgment is not to be relied on when that -person is in question." Then she added in a low voice, and more as if speaking -to herself, "How strange it will seem to be away from Gerty!"</p> - -<p>Benthall heard the remark, and he took Maude's hand as he said, "But you -won't be away from her, dear Maude! We have all of us talked over your future, -and Gertrude and I hope you will make your home with us, though Lady Caroline -insists on claiming you for some portion of the year."</p> - -<p>"You are all of you very good, George," said Maude; "you know how much I -should love to be with you and Gerty, and what gratitude and affection I have -for Lady Caroline. But I don't think the life you have proposed would exactly -suit me."</p> - -<p>"Not suit you, Maude?" cried Mr. Benthall in astonishment; "why, what would -you propose to do?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot say exactly, though I have some ideas about it which I can't -clearly express. You see I shall never be married, George--don't laugh at me, -please, I'm speaking quite seriously--and there is this large sum of money which -uncle left me, and which I don't think should be either squandered away or left -lying idle!"</p> - -<p>"Why, my dear, what on earth do you propose to do with the money?" asked -practical Mr. Benthall.</p> - -<p>"To put it to some good use, I hope; to use it and my own time and services -in doing good, in benefiting those who need it----"</p> - -<p>"You're not going to give it to the missionaries, or any rubbish of that -kind, I trust," interrupted Mr. Benthall. "Look here, Maude, depend upon it---- -Oh! here's her ladyship, don't say a word about it before her. Good morning, -Lady Caroline! This young lady and I have been discussing the propriety of -writing to Mrs. Creswell announcing Gertrude's approaching marriage."</p> - -<p>"I don't think there can be a doubt as to the propriety of such a course," -said Lady Caroline. "Of course, whatever she might say about it would not make -the slightest difference to us."</p> - -<p>"Of course not."</p> - -<p>"But I don't think you need fear any disagreeables. Mrs. Creswell is in a -very different position now from that which she held when she thought fit to -behave badly to those young ladies, and their relations with her are also quite -altered. And by all accounts she is quite sufficient woman of the world to -understand and appreciate this."</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline was right. In reply to Gertrude's letter announcing her -marriage, came a most affectionate note from Marian to her "dearest Gertrude," -congratulating her most heartily; complimenting her on her choice of a husband; -delighting in the prospect of their living so near to her; hoping to see much of -them; regretting that her recent bereavement prevented her being present at the -ceremony, or having it take place, as she should so much have wished, at -Woolgreaves; and begging permission to send the enclosed, as her contribution, -to aid in the setting up of the new household; and the enclosure was a cheque -for three hundred pounds.</p> - -<p>Mr. Benthall winced a little when he saw the cheque, and Mr. Joyce gave a -very grim smile when his friend informed him of the affair; but advised Mr. -Benthall to pocket the money, which Mr. Benthall did. As has been said, he did -not pretend to despise money; but he was essentially a gentleman in his notions -as to the acceptance of favours. He had thought several times about that -conversation with Maude, in which she had mentioned the manner in which she had -wished to dispose of her fortune and her future. This had caused Mr. Benthall -some uneasiness; he had no hankering after his future sister-in-law's fortune; -there was nothing he would have liked so much as to see her happily married; but -he did not like the idea of the money being foolishly invested in useless -charity or gotten hold of by pseudo-philanthropists. A conversation which he had -with Gertrude a few days before their marriage seemed, however, to do away with -all his fears, and render him perfectly easy in his mind on this point. A short -conversation which ended thus--</p> - -<p>"And you're sure of it, Gerty?"</p> - -<p>"Positive! I've thought so a long time--now I'm sure! And you must be a great -goose, George, not to have noticed it yourself."</p> - -<p>"I am not a great goose, and I certainly had some suspicions at one time; -but---- Well, now, that would be highly satisfactory."</p> - -<p>"Do you think there is anything remaining from--from the other one, George?"</p> - -<p>"From the other one? You mean from Mrs.---- Not the remotest thought of her -even."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, it rests with him entirely. Wouldn't it be nice for them both?"</p> - -<p>"It would, indeed--and for us too. Well, we'll see what can be done."</p> - -<p>Enigmatical, but apparently satisfactory.</p> - -<p> -So George Benthall and Gertrude Creswell were married at St. James's Church in -Piccadilly, by the Reverend John Bontein, a High-Church rector of a -Worcestershire parish, and an old college chum of the bridegroom's. A very quiet -wedding, with Maude as the sole bridesmaid, and Joyce as best man, and Lady -Caroline, and, oddly enough, Lord Hetherington, who had just come up to town -from Westhope, and, calling at his sister's, had learned what was going to take -place, and thought he should like to see it, don't you know? Had never been at -any wedding except his own, and didn't recollect much about that, except -that--curious thing, never should forget it--when he went into the vestry to -sign his name, or something of that kind, saw surplice hanging up behind the -door--thought it was ghost, or something of that kind--give you his word! So the -little earl arrived the next morning at eleven at the church, and took his place -in a pew near the altar, and propped his ear up with his hand to listen to the -marriage service, at which he seemed to be much affected. When the ceremony was -over, he joined the party in the vestry, insisted on bestowing a formal salute -upon the bride--Lady Hetherington, he knew, was safely moored at Westhope--and, -as some recompense for the infliction, he clasped on Gertrude's arm a very -handsome bracelet, as his bridal gift. No bells, no bishop, no fashionable -journal's chronicler, minutely noting down all that took place, and chronicling -the names of "distinguished persons present." Pew-opener and beadle hearing "my -lord" and "her ladyship" mentioned, seeing broughams, and cockades, and other -signs of aristocracy with which they are familiar, are unable to reconcile the -presence of these with absence of outward and visible signs in which great ones -of this earth delight; and conclude either that it is a runaway match winked at -by a portion only of the family, or some such low affair as the union of the -tutor with the governess, kindly patronised by their employers. A happy wedding, -though--happier far than most which are made up in that same temple--love-match -founded on long knowledge of each other, not hurried, not forced, not mercenary; -no question of love in a cottage either, and the flight of Amor through the -window concurrently with the entrance of the wicked man of the drama--one Turpis -Egestas--through the door.</p> - -<p>Such a marriage promised to prove a happy one. In its early days, of course, -everything was rose-coloured--those days when Maude went down to stay with -George and Gertrude at the school, and when, a little later, Walter Joyce ran -down for the Easter holidays to his old quarters. He was glad of the chance of -seeing them once again, he said, and determined to avail himself of it; and then -George Benthall looked in his face and smiled knowingly. Walter returned the -grin, and added: "For it's a chance that may not happen to me again." And when -his friend looked rather blank at this, and asked him what he meant, Joyce -laughed again, and finally told him that Lord Hetherington had just had a piece -of patronage fall to his share--the rectory of Newmanton-by-Perringden, a lovely -place in the Isle of Wight, where the stipend was not sufficiently great to -allow a man with a large family to live on it, but the exact place for a parson -with a little money of his own. And Lord Hetherington had inquired of Joyce -whether his friend, that remarkably pleasant fellow,--bless my soul, forget my -own name next! him we saw married, don't you know?--whether he was not exactly -the sort of fellow for this place, and would he like it? Walter thought that he -was and he would; and Lord Hetherington, knowing Joyce was going down to see his -friend, bid him inquire, and if all were straight, assure Mr. Benthall that the -living was his.</p> - -<p>And this was how Walter Joyce executed his commission, and this was how -George Benthall heard this most acceptable news.</p> - -<p>"By the way, what made you grin, Benthall, when I said I had come down here -for my holiday to look at my old quarters?" asked Walter.</p> - -<p>"Because I thought there might be yet another reason which you had not -stated. Anxiety to see some one here!"</p> - -<p>"Anxiety is the wrong word. Strong wish to see you and your wife again, -and----"</p> - -<p>"My wife and I are out of the affair! Come, confess!"</p> - -<p>"I give you my honour I don't know what you mean."</p> - -<p>"Likely enough; but I'm older than you, and, parson though I am, I declare I -think I've seen more of the world. Shall I tell you what brought you down here? -I shall!--then I will!--to see Maude Creswell."</p> - -<p>"Maude Creswell! What on earth should I--what--why--I mean--what, is Miss -Creswell gone?"</p> - -<p>"Simply the woman who thinks more about you than any other creature on earth. -Simply the girl who is raving--head over ears in love with you. Don't pretend -you don't know it. Natural instinct is too strong to allow any doubt upon that -point."</p> - -<p>"I swear you surprise me beyond belief! I swear that---- Do you mean this, -Benthall?"</p> - -<p>"As a gentleman and a Christian, I've told you what I believe; and as a man -of the world, I tell you what I think, whether wittingly or unwittingly, you are -very far gone in returning the young lady's sentiments!"</p> - -<p>"I--that is--there's no doubt she is a girl of very superior mind, and--by -Jove, Benthall, you've given a most singular twist to my holiday!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_35" href="#div1Ref_35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h4> -<h5>LADY CAROLINE ADVISES ON A DELICATE SUBJECT</h5> -<br> - -<p>The communication which Mr. Benthall, in his bluff offhand manner, had made -to Walter Joyce, had surprised the latter very much and embarrassed him not a -little. Ever since the receipt of Marian Ashurst's letter announcing her -intention of marrying Mr. Creswell--ever since the subsequent interview with -Lady Caroline, in which she counselled him to discharge the subject from his -mind, to encourage new hopes, and to cultivate aspirations of a different -kind--Joyce had lived absolutely free from any influence of "the cruel madness -of love, the poison of honey flowers, and all the measureless ill." All his -thoughts had been given up to labour and ambition, and, with the exception of -his deep-rooted and genuine regard for Lady Caroline, and his friendly liking -for the Creswell girls, he entertained no feeling for any woman living, unless a -suspicion of and an aversion to Marian Creswell might be so taken into account. -Had he this special partiality for Maude Creswell, of which Benthall had spoken -so plainly? He set to work to catechise himself, to look back through the events -of the past few months, noting what he remembered of their relations to each -other.</p> - -<p>Yes, he had seen a great deal of Maude; he remembered very frequent occasions -on which they had been thrown together. He had not noticed it at the time; it -seemed to come naturally enough. Gertrude, of course, was engaged with Benthall -when he was in town--in writing to him or thinking of him when he was away--and -Lady Caroline had to go through all the hard work which fell upon a great lady -in society--work the amount of which can only be appreciated by those who have -performed it or seen it performed. So that, as Joyce then recollected, he and -Maude had been thrown a great deal together, and, as he further recollected, -they had had a great many discussions on topics very far removed from the mere -ordinary frivolity of society talk; and he had noticed that she seemed to have -clear ideas which she understood how to express. What an odd thing, that--what -Benthall said--had never struck him before! It must have been patent to other -people, though; and that put the matter, unpleasantly, in rather a ridiculous -light. After all, though, what was there ridiculous in it? Maude was a very -handsome girl, a clever girl, and an unmistakable lady. What a pretty, slight, -girlish figure she had!--such a graceful outline!--her head was well posed upon -her neck! And Joyce smiled as he found himself drawing lines in the air with the -paper-knife which he had been idly tossing in his hand.</p> - -<p>And he had Benthall's assurance that the girl cared for him--that was -something. Benthall was a man careful in the extreme as to what he said, and he -would not have made such a statement where a girl was concerned, and that girl -his own sister-in-law, unless he was tolerably certain of being right. His own -sister-in-law; he had it then, of course, from Gertrude, who was Maude's second -self, and would know all about it. It was satisfactory to know that there was a -woman in the world who cared for him, and though without the smallest particle -of vanity he accepted the belief very readily, for his rejection by Marian -Ashurst and the indignity which he had suffered at her hands had by no means -rendered him generally cynical or suspicious of the sex. Marian Ashurst! what an -age ago it seemed since the days when the mention of that name would have sent -the blood flowing in his cheek, and his heart thumping audibly, and now here he -was staying in the old house where all the love scenes had taken place, walking -round the garden where all the soft words had been spoken, all the vows made -which she had thrown to the winds when the last parting, with what he then and -for so long afterwards thought its never-to-be-forgotten agony, had occurred, -and he had not felt one single extra palpitation. Mrs. Creswell was staying away -from Woolgreaves just then, at some inland watering-place, for the benefit of -her health, which it was said had suffered somewhat from her constant attendance -on her husband, or Joyce might have met her. Such a meeting would not have -caused him an emotion. When he had encountered her in the lane, during the -canvassing time, there was yet lingering within his breast a remembrance of the -great wrong she had done him, and that was fanned into additional fury by the -nature of her request and the insolence with which she made it. But all those -feelings had died out now, and were he then, he thought, to come across Marian -Creswell's path, she would be to him as the merest stranger, and no more.</p> - -<p>If he were to marry, he knew of no one more likely to suit him in all ways -than Maude. Pretty to look at, clever to talk to, sufficiently accustomed to him -and his ways of life, she would make him a far better wife than nine-tenths of -the young ladies he was accustomed to meet in such little society as he could -spare the time to cultivate. Why should he marry at all? He answered the -question almost as soon as he asked it. His life wanted brightening, wanted -refining, was at present too narrow and confined; all his hopes, thoughts, and -aspirations were centred on himself. He was all wrong. There should be some one -who--the chambers were confoundedly dreary too, when he came home to them from -the office or the House; he should travel somewhere abroad when the House rose, -he thought, and it would be dull work moving about by himself, and--</p> - -<p>What pretty earnest eyes Maude had, and shining hair, and delicate -"bred"-looking hands! She certainly was wonderfully nice, and if, as Benthall -avowed, she really eared for him, he---- Who was this coming to break in on his -pleasant day-dream? Oh, Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"I was wondering where you were, Mr. Joyce! You said you wanted your holiday, -and you seem to be passing it in slumber!"</p> - -<p>"Nothing so commonplace, Mrs. Benthall."</p> - -<p>"One moment, why do you call me Mrs. Benthall? What has made you so formal -and ridiculous all of a sudden? You used to call me Gertrude, in London?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but then you were an unmarried girl; now you are a wedded woman, and -there's a certain amount of respect due to matronhood."</p> - -<p>"What nonsense! Do call me Gertrude again, please; Mrs. Benthall sounds so -horrid! I should like the boarders here in the house to call me Gertrude, only -George says it wouldn't be proper! And so you weren't asleep?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least bit! Although I'm ready to allow I was dreaming."</p> - -<p>"Dreaming!--what about?"</p> - -<p>"About the old days which I spent in this place--and their association!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I know--I mean to say----"</p> - -<p>"No, no, Gertrude, say what you had on your lips, then! No prevarication, and -no hesitation--what was it?"</p> - -<p>"No, really, nothing--it is only----"</p> - -<p>"I insist!"</p> - -<p>"Well, what I mean to say is--of course, people will talk in a village, you -know--and we've heard about your engagement, you know, and how it was broken -off, and how badly you were treated, and--oh, how silly I was to say a word -about it! I'm sure George would be horribly cross if he knew!"</p> - -<p>"And did you imagine I was grizzling over my past, cursing the day when I -first saw the faithless fair, and indulging in other poetic rhapsodies! My dear -Gertrude, it's not a pleasant thing being jilted; but one lives to get over it -and forget all about it, even to forgive her whom I believe it is correct to -call the false one!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I dare say! In fact, George and Maude both said you didn't think -anything about it now, and----"</p> - -<p>"Maude! did she know of it too?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, we all knew of it! The old woman who had been housekeeper, or cook, -or something here in the old Ashurst's time, told George, and----"</p> - -<p>"What did Maude say about it?" interrupted Joyce.</p> - -<p>"She said--I forget what! No! I recollect she said that--that Mrs. Creswell -was just the sort of woman that would fail to appreciate you!"</p> - -<p>"That may be taken in two senses--as a compliment or otherwise," said Joyce, -laughing.</p> - -<p>"I'm sure Maude means it nicely," said Gertrude earnestly. Then added, "By -the way, I wanted to talk to you about Maude, Mr. Joyce."</p> - -<p>"About Maude!" said Walter. Then thought to himself, "Is it possible that the -seeds of match-making are already developing themselves in this three months' -old matron?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I don't think George mentioned it to you, but he had a talk with Maude, -just before our marriage, about her future. George, of course, told her that our -house would be her home, her permanent home I mean; and he gave her the kindest -message from Lady Caroline, who bargained that at least a portion of the year -should be spent with her."</p> - -<p>"What did your sister say to that?"</p> - -<p>"Well, she was much obliged and all that; but she did not seem inclined to -settle down. She has some horrible notions about duty and that sort of thing, -and thinks her money has been given to her to do good with; and George is afraid -she would get what he calls 'let i' by some of those dreadful hypocritical -people, and we want you to talk to her and reason her out of it."</p> - -<p>"I? Why I, my dear Gertrude?"</p> - -<p>"Because she believes in you so much more than in anybody else, and is so -much more likely to do what you advise her."</p> - -<p>"She pays me a great compliment," said Joyce, rising, "and I'll see what's to -be done. The first thing, I think, is to consult Lady Caroline, who would be -sure to give good advice. I shall see her to-morrow, and I'll----"</p> - -<p>"See Lady Caroline to-morrow! I thought you were not going back till -Saturday?"</p> - -<p>"I've just thought of some special business about which I must see Lady -Caroline at once, and I'll mention this at the same time. Now, let us find -George. Come for a turn."</p> - -<p>They found George and went for their turn, and when their turn was over, and -Gertrude was alone with her husband, she told him the conversation which she had -had with Walter Joyce. The schoolmaster laughed heartily.</p> - -<p>"'Pon my word, Gerty," he said, "match-making appears to be your forte, born -and bred in you! I never believed in the reality of those old dowagers in Mrs. -Trollope's novels, until I saw you."</p> - -<p>"Well, I declare, George, you are complimentary! old dowagers, indeed! But, -seriously, I wish Walter wasn't going to Lady Caroline!"</p> - -<p>"Why, what on earth has that to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I mean speaking in Maude's interest!"</p> - -<p>"Why, one would think that Lady Caroline was in love with Walter Joyce -herself!"</p> - -<p>"Exactly!"</p> - -<p>"Why--why--you don't think so, my dear?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure so, my dear!"</p> - -<p>And, as response, the Reverend George Benthall whistled in a loud and -unclerical manner.</p> -<br> - -<p>When Walter Joyce arrived in Chesterfield Street, he found Lady Caroline was -absent--passing the holidays with Lord and Lady Hetherington at Westhope--and, -after a little hesitation, he determined to go down there and see her. He had -not seen anything of the Hetheringtons since his election: his lordship was -occupied with some new fad which kept him in the country, and her ladyship did -not care to come to town until after Easter. Lord Hetherington had viewed the -progress of his ex-secretary with great satisfaction. His recollections of Joyce -were all pleasant; the young man had done his work carefully and cleverly, had -always been gentlemanly and unobtrusive, and had behaved deuced well--point of -fact, deuced well--brave, and all that kind of thing--in that matter of saving -Car'line on the ice. Her ladyship's feelings were very different. She disliked -self-made people more than any others, and those who were reckoned clever were -specially obnoxious to her. She had heard much, a great deal too much, of Joyce -from Mr. Gould, who, in his occasional visits, delighted in dilating on his -recent foeman's abilities, eloquence, and pluck, partly because he respected -such qualities wherever he met with them, but principally because he knew that -such comments were very aggravating to Lady Hetherington (no great favourite of -his); and she was not more favourably disposed towards him, because he had -adopted political principles diametrically opposed to those which she believed. -But what actuated her most in her ill-feeling towards Mr. Joyce was a fear that, -now that he had obtained a certain position, he might aspire to Lady Caroline -Mansergh, who, as Lady Hetherington always suspected, would be by no means -indisposed to accept him. Hitherto the difference in their social status had -rendered any such proceeding thoroughly unlikely. A tutor, or a--what did they -call it?--reporter to a newspaper, could scarcely have the impertinence to -propose for an earl's sister; but, as a member of Parliament, the man enjoyed a -position in society, and nothing could be said against him on that score. There -was Lady Violet Magnier, Lord Haughtonforest's daughter. Well, Mr. Magnier sold -ribbons, and pocket-handkerchiefs and things, in the City; but then he was -member for some place, and was very rich, and it was looked upon as a very good -match for Lady Violet. Mr. Joyce was just the man to assert himself in a highly -disagreeable manner; he always held views about the supremacy of intellect, and -that kind of rubbish; and the more he kept away from them, the less chance he -would have of exercising any influence over Lady Caroline Mansergh.</p> - -<p>It may be imagined, then, that her ladyship was not best pleased when her -sister-in-law informed her that she had had a telegram from Walter Joyce, asking -whether he might come down to Westhope to see her on special business, and that -she "supposed Margaret had no objection."</p> - -<p>Margaret had strong objections, but did not think it politic to say so just -then, so merely intimated that she would be happy to see Mr. Joyce whenever he -chose to come.</p> - -<p>The tone in which this intimation was conveyed was so little pleasing to Lady -Caroline, that she took care to impress on her sister-in-law the fact that -Joyce's visit was to her, Lady Caroline, and that she had merely mentioned his -coming as a matter of politeness to her hostess, which did not tend to increase -Lady Hetherington's regard for Walter Joyce.</p> - -<p>But the <i>bien-séances</i> were never neglected on account of any personal -feeling; and when Joyce arrived at the station, he recognised the familiar -livery on the platform, and found a carriage in waiting to convey him to -Westhope.</p> - -<p>During the drive he occupied himself in thinking over the wondrous changes -which had taken place since his first visit to that neighbourhood, when, with a -wardrobe provided by old Jack Byrne, and a scanty purse supplied from the same -source, he had come down in a dependent position, not knowing any of those -amongst whom his lot in life was to be passed, and without the least idea as to -the kind of treatment he might expect at their hands. That treatment, he knew, -would have been very different had it not been for Lady Caroline Mansergh. But -for her counsel, too, he would have suffered himself to have remained completely -crushed and vanquished by Marian Ashurst's conduct, would have subsided into a -mere drudge without energy or hope. Yes, all the good in his life he owed to the -friendship, to the kindly promptings of that sweetest and best of women. He felt -that thoroughly, and yet it never struck him that in asking her to advise him as -to his marriage with some one else, he was committing, to say the least of it, a -solecism. The axiom which declares that the cleverest men have the smallest -amount of common sense, has a broader foundation than is generally believed.</p> - -<p>On his arrival at Westhope, Joyce was informed by the butler that Lord -Hetherington had gone round the Home Farm with the bailiff, and that her -ladyship was out driving, but that they would both be home to luncheon, when -they expected the pleasure of his company; meanwhile would he walk into the -library, where Lady Caroline Mansergh would join him? He went into the library, -and had just looked round the room and viewed his old associations--glanced at -the desk where he had sat working away for so many hours at a stretch, at the -big tomes whence he had extracted the subject-matter for that great historical -work, still, alas! incomplete--at the line of Shakespearean volumes which formed -Lady Caroline Mansergh's private reading--when the door opened, and Lady -Caroline came in. Country air had not had its usual beneficial effect, Joyce -thought as he looked at her; for her face was very pale, and her manner nervous -and odd. Yet she shook him warmly by the hand, and bade him be seated in her old -cheery tone.</p> - -<p>"It is very good of you to let me come down here, breaking in upon the rest -which I have no doubt you want, and boring you with my own private affairs," -said Joyce, seating himself in the window-sill close by the armchair which Lady -Caroline had taken.</p> - -<p>"It is not very good of you to talk conventionalities, and to pretend that -you don't know I have a deep interest in all that concerns you," replied Lady -Caroline.</p> - -<p>"I have every reason to know it, and my last words were merely a foolish -utterance of society talk----"</p> - -<p>"Which you always declare to despise, and which you know I detest."</p> - -<p>"Quite true; think it unspoken and absolve me."</p> - -<p>"I do; but if we are to have what you used to call a 'business talk,' we must -have it at once. In half an hour Lord and Lady Hetherington and the luncheon -will arrive simultaneously, and our chance is at an end. And you did not come -from London, I suppose, to discuss tenant-right, or to listen to Lady -Hetherington's diatribes against servants?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed; with all deference to them, I came to see you, and you alone, to -ask your advice, and to take it, which is quite a different thing, as I have -done before in momentous periods of my life."</p> - -<p>"And this is a momentous period?"</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly--as much, if not more so, than any."</p> - -<p>Had she any notion of what was coming? Her pale face grew paler; she pushed -back the rippling tresses of her chestnut hair, and her large eyes were fixed on -him in grave attention.</p> - -<p>"You alone of any one in the world, man or woman, know the exact story of my -first love. You knew my confidence and trust, you knew how they were abused. You -saw how I suffered at the time, and you cannot be ignorant of what is absolute -fact; that to your advice and encouragement I owe not merely recovery from that -wretched state, but the position to which I have since attained!"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"That first love fell dead--you know when! Ambition, the passion that -supplied its place, was sufficient for a time to absorb all my thoughts, hopes, -and energies. But, to a certain extent it has been gratified, and it suffices me -no longer. My heart wants some one to love, and turns to one to whom it owes -gratitude, but whom it would sooner meet with a warmer feeling. Are you not -well, Lady Caroline?"</p> - -<p>"Quite well, thanks, and--and interested. Pray go on!"</p> - -<p>"To go on is difficult. It is so horrible in a man to have to say that he -sees he has awakened interest in a woman, that she shows all unknowingly to -herself, but still sufficiently palpable, that he is the one person in the world -to her, that she rejoices in his presence, and grieves at his absence; worst of -all, that all, this is pointed out to him by other people----"</p> - -<p>Lady Caroline's cheeks flushed as she echoed the words, "Pointed out to him -by other people!"</p> - -<p>"Exactly. That's the worst of it. However, all this being so, and my feelings -such as I have described, I presume I shouldn't be repeating my former -error--inviting a repetition of my previous fate--in asking her to be my wife?"</p> - -<p>"I--I should think not." The flush still in her cheeks. "Do I know the lady?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know her? No one knows her so well!" The flush deeper than ever. "Ah, -Lady Caroline, kindest and dearest of friends, why should I keep you longer in -suspense? It is Maude Creswell!"</p> - -<p>Her face blanched in an instant. Her grasp tightened rigidly over the arm of -the chair on which it lay, but she gave no other sign of emotion. Even her -voice, though hollow and metallic, never shook as she repeated the name, "Maude -Creswell!"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Maude Creswell! You are surprised, I see, but I don't think you will -blame me for my choice! She is eminently ladylike, and clever, and nice, -and----"</p> - -<p>"I don't think you could possibly---- What is it, Thomas?"</p> - -<p>"Luncheon, my lady."</p> - -<p>"Very well. I must get you to go in to luncheon without me, Mr. Joyce; you -will find Lord and Lady Hetherington in the dining-room, and I will come down -directly. We will resume our talk afterwards."</p> - -<p>And she left the room, and walked swiftly and not too steadily up the hall -towards the staircase.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_36" href="#div1Ref_36">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h4> -<h5>NIGHT AND MORNING.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Both Lord and Lady Hetherington were in the dining-room when Joyce entered, -the former with his brown velveteen suit splashed and clay-stained, and his -thick boots rich with the spoil of many a furrow (he was bitten with a farming -and agricultural mania just then), and the latter calm and collected as Walter -ever remembered her. She received the visitor with perfect politeness, expressed -in a few well-chosen sentences her pleasure at seeing him again and the -satisfaction with which she had learned of his improved position; then, after -scanning him with rather a searching glance, she turned to the footman, and -asked where was Lady Caroline, and whether she knew luncheon was ready. Joyce -replied for the man. Lady Caroline had heard the announcement of luncheon, but -had asked him to come in by himself, saying she would follow directly. Her -ladyship had gone up to her room, the footman added; he did not think her -ladyship was very well. The footman was new to Westhope, or he would have known -that the domestics of that establishment were never allowed to think, or at -least were expected to keep their thoughts to themselves.</p> - -<p>Lady Hetherington of course ignored the footman's remark entirely, but -addressed herself to Joyce.</p> - -<p>"I hope you did not bring down any ill news for Lady Caroline, Mr. Joyce?"</p> - -<p>"Not I, indeed, Lady Hetherington. I merely came to ask her ladyship's advice -on--well, on a matter of business."</p> - -<p>"In which she was interested?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed! I was selfish enough to lay before her a matter in which my own -interests were alone concerned."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Lady Hetherington, with a sigh of relief, "I was afraid it might -be some business in which she would have to involve herself for other people, -and really she is such an extraordinary woman, constituting herself chaperone to -two young women who may be very well in their way, I dare say, but whom nobody -ever heard of, and doing such odd things, but--however, that's all right."</p> - -<p>Her ladyship subsiding, his lordship here had a chance of expressing his -delight at his ex-secretary's advancement, which he did warmly, but in his own -peculiar way. So Joyce had gone into Parliament; right, quite right, but wrong -side, hey, hey? Radicals and those sort of fellows, hey? Republic and that sort -of thing! Like all young men, make mistakes, hey, but know better soon, and come -round. Live to see him in the Carlton yet. Knew where he picked up those -atrocious doctrines--didn't mind his calling them atrocious, hey, hey?--from -Byrne; strange man, clever man, deuced clever, well read, and all that kind of -thing, but desperate free-thinker. Thistlewood, Wolfestone, and that kind of -thing. Never live to see him in the Carlton. No, of course not; not the place -for him. Recollect the Chronicles? Ah, of course; deuced interestin', all that -stuff that--that I wrote then, wasn't it? Had not made much progress since. So -taken up with farmin' and that kind of thing; must take him into the park before -he left, and show him some alterations just going to be made, which would be an -immense improvement, immense imp---- Oh, here was Lady Caroline!</p> - -<p>What did that idiotic footman mean by saying he thought Lady Caroline was not -well? She came in looking radiant, and took her seat at the table with all her -usual composure. Lady Hetherington looked at her in surprise, and said--</p> - -<p>"Anything the matter, Caroline?"</p> - -<p>"The matter, Margaret! Nothing in the world. Why?"</p> - -<p>"You told Mr. Joyce to come in to luncheon without you, and Thomas said you -had gone upstairs. I feared you had one of your faint attacks."</p> - -<p>"Thanks for your sympathy. No! I knew Mr. Joyce would be leaving almost -directly after luncheon, and I had a letter to write which I want him to be good -enough to take to town for me. So I seized the only chance I had and ran off to -write it."</p> - -<p>"Deuced odd that!" said Lord Hetherington; "here's British post-office, -greatest institution in the country. Rowland Hill, and that kind of thing; take -your letters everywhere for a penny--penny, by Jove, and yet you'll always find -women want fellows to make postmen of themselves, and carry their letters -themselves."</p> - -<p>"This is a special letter, West," said Lady Caroline. "You don't understand."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I do," said his lordship with a chuckle, "women's letters all -special letters, hey, hey? order to the haberdasher for a yard of ribbon, line -to Mitchell's for stalls at the play--all special, hey, Mr. Joyce, hey?"</p> - -<p>When luncheon was over Joyce imagined that Lady Caroline would return with -him to the library and then renew their conversation. He was accordingly much -surprised when she suggested to Lord Hetherington that he should show Mr. Joyce -the alterations which were about to be made in the park. His lordship was only -too glad to be mounted on his hobby, and away they went, not returning until it -was time for Joyce to start for the station. He did not see Lady Hetherington -again, but his lordship, in great delight at the manner in which his -agricultural discourse had been listened to, was very warm in his adieux, and -expressed his hope that they would meet in town. "Politics always laid aside at -the dinner-table, Mr. Joyce, hey, hey?"</p> - -<p>And Lady Caroline, after bidding him farewell, placed a note in his hand, -saying, "This was the letter I spoke of."</p> - -<p>He glanced at it and saw it was addressed to himself, and the next instant -the carriage started. Addressed to himself! Did she not say at luncheon that she -had been writing a note which she wanted him to take to town for her, and--and -yet there was the address, Walter Joyce, Esq., in her bold firm hand. There must -be an enclosure which he was to deliver or to post.</p> - -<p>And then he did what he might have done at first--broke open the seal of the -envelope and took out the contents. One sheet of note paper, with these words--</p> - -<p> -"I think you will be doing rightly in acting as you propose. Miss Creswell is -handsome, clever, and exceptionally 'thorough.' From what I have seen of her I -should think she would make you an excellent helpmate, and you know I should not -say this were I not tolerably certain about it. I may not see you again for a -few weeks, as I detest this specially cold spring, and shall probably run away -to Torquay, or perhaps even to Nice, but letters to Chesterfield Street will -always find me, and I shall always have the warmest and deepest interest in your -welfare. Good-bye. C.M."</p> - -<p> -"She is a woman of extraordinary mental calibre," said Joyce to himself, as he -refolded the note and placed it in his pocket. "She grasps a subject -immediately, thinks it through at once, and writes an unmistakable opinion in a -few terse lines. A wonderful woman! I've no doubt she had made up her mind, and -had written that note before she came down to luncheon, though she did not give -it to me until just now."</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce was wrong. The interval between leaving him and her arrival in -the dining-room had been passed by Lady Caroline on her bed, where she fell, -prone, as the door closed behind her. She lay there, her face buried in the -pillow, her hands tightly clasped behind her head, her hair escaped from its -knot and creeping down her back, her heart beating wildly. Ah, what minutes of -agony and humiliation, of disappointment and self-contempt! It had come upon her -very suddenly, and had found her unprepared. She had never dared to analyse her -feeling for Joyce; knew of its existence, but did not know or would not admit to -herself what it was. Tried to persuade herself that it was "interest" in him, -but laughed contemptuously at the poor deceit when she found her heart beating -double pace as she read of his progress at the election, or her cheek flaming -and her lip quivering as she did battle against Lady Hetherington's occasional -impertinences about him. Those were the signs of something more than -interest--of love, real, unmistakable passion. What a future might it not have -been for her? She had respected her first husband for his kindness, his -confidence, his equable temper. She would have respected this man too--respected -him for his talent, his bravery, his skill and courage with which he had fought -the great battle of life; but she would have loved him too--loved him with that -wild passion, with that deep devotion. For the first time in her life she had -learned what it was to love, and learned it too late. On those few occasions -when she had dared to reveal to herself what was hidden in the inmost recesses -of her soul, she had come to the conclusion that though the happiness for which -she pined would never be realised--and she never concealed from herself the -improbability of that--yet she should always hold the first position in his -thoughts. The bitter disappointment which he had suffered at Miss Ashurst's -hands had, she thought, effectually extinguished all idea of marriage in his -mind. And now he came to her--to her of all women in the world--to tell her of -his loneliness, his want of some one to sympathise with and be his companion, -and to ask her advice as regarded his selection of Maude Creswell! It was too -hard upon her, too much for her to bear this. A score of schemes flashed through -her brain. Suppose she were to temporise with this question? A word from her -would make Joyce defer taking any steps in the matter for the present, and in -the interval she could easily let him see how she--the state of her---- Ah, the -shame, the wretched humiliation! Was she bewitched, or was she in sober -seriousness--she, Caroline Mansergh, whose pride as Caroline West was a -byword--was she going to throw herself at the head of a man who had not only -never shown any intention of proposing to her, but had actually come to consult -her about his marriage with another woman It was impossible. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>.Lady -Caroline West's pride, dormant and overlaid with other passions, yet lived in -Lady Caroline Mansergh, and asserted itself in time. She rose from the bed, -bathed her face, adjusted her hair, poured some sal-volatile in a glass with a -shaking hand, and swallowed it through her set teeth, then went down to -luncheon, as we have seen. She expressly avoided any chance of future -conversation with Walter, and the note was written while he was out with Lord -Hetherington.</p> - -<p>Of course, Walter Joyce was utterly ignorant of Lady Caroline's feelings. As -she hid them from herself as much as possible, it was unlikely that she would -suffer him to catch the smallest inkling of them; and it is very questionable -whether, had his powers of divination been infinitely stronger than they were, -he would have understood them. The one spark of romance with which nature had -endowed him had been completely stamped out by Marian Ashurst, and the rest of -his organisation was commonplace naturally, and made more commonplace by -practical experience of the world. He wondered Lady Caroline had not arranged to -have a farther talk with him. She had left him, or rather they had been -interrupted just at the critical moment, just when he had told her the object of -his visit; and it was odd, to say the least of it, that she did not seek an -early opportunity for letting him know her opinion on the really weighty -question on which he had consulted her. And yet she always knew best; no doubt -she thought it was essential that he should please Lord Hetherington, who was -evidently bent on showing him those alterations, and, perhaps, she thought, too, -that he might like to have her answer in writing to refer to on occasion. What a -capital answer it was! He palled it out of his pocket, and looked at it again, -so clear and concise and positive. His excellent helpmate. Yes, that was what he -wanted. How exactly she appreciated him! Running to Torquay or Nice? What a -funny thing! He had never heard her complain of being affected by the cold -before, and--however she approved of his intentions in regard to Maude -Creswell--that was the great point. So ruminated Walter Joyce, the hard-headed -and practical, sliding gradually into a hundred other thoughts of work to be -done and schemes to be looked into, and people to be seen, with which he was so -much engaged that, until he reached London, both Maude and Lady Caroline were -fairly obliterated from his mind.</p> - -<p>He slept at his chambers that night, and went down to Helmingham the next -day. There was a station now at the village, and it was here that Joyce -alighted, not merely because it was more convenient than going to Brocksopp, but -because it saved him the annoyance of having to run the gauntlet of a walk -through the midst of his constituency, every other member of which had a -complaint to make or a petition to prefer. The Helmingham people, of course, -were immensely impressed by the sight of a man who, originally known to them as -pursuing the mysterious profession of a Schoolmaster, had grown into that yet -more inscrutable being, a Member of Parliament; but their wonderment was simply -expressed in gaping and staring. They kept their distance peasant-like, and -never dreamed of button-holing their member, as did the Brocksoppians. The road -that led from the station to the village skirted the wall of the school-garden. -It was a low wall, and looking over it, Joyce saw Maude Creswell tying up a -creeper which was trained round the study window. Her attitude was pretty, a -sunbeam shone on her hatless head, and the exertion given to her task had -brought a bright colour to her usually pale face. Never before had she looked so -attractive in Joyce's eyes. He dismissed from his mind the interesting question -of compulsory education for factory children, which he had been revolving -therein for the last hour and a half, and quickened his pace towards the house.</p> - -<p>Maude was in the study when he entered. The flush had left her face, but -returned when she saw him. He advanced and took her hand.</p> - -<p>"So soon back!" she cried. "When I came down yesterday, they told me you had -gone to town, and probably would not return; and I was so horribly vexed!"</p> - -<p>"Were you? That's kind of you, indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Well, you know--I mean----"</p> - -<p>"What you say. I believe that firmly, for you have the credit of being quite -unconventional. No, I merely went to London on business, and that finished I -returned at once. Where is your sister?"</p> - -<p>"Out."</p> - -<p>"And her husband?"</p> - -<p>"How can you ask such a question? With her, of course. They have gone to pay -a visit."</p> - -<p>"A visit; where? I--I beg your pardon; how very rude of me to ask such a -question! What a tell-tale face you have, Miss Creswell I saw the rudeness I had -committed by your expression."</p> - -<p>"You give me credit for more power than I possess. There was no rudeness in -your asking. They have gone to Woolgreaves."</p> - -<p>"To Woolgreaves!"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Mrs. Creswell called here two days ago--the day you went to London; but -Gertrude and George were out, So she left a note stating she was very anxious to -see them, and they have gone over there to-day. They had no notion you would -have come down, or they would not have gone. I am so sorry they are not here."</p> - -<p>"I confess I am not."</p> - -<p>"Not sorry! That's not polite. Why are you not sorry?"</p> - -<p>"Because I wanted to talk to you."</p> - -<p>"To me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, to you. I've something to consult you about, in relation to my recent, -visit to town; rather a difficult matter, but I have all faith in your good -judgment."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you rate my judgment too highly, Mr. Joyce; but at all events, -you may be assured of my answering you honestly, and to the best of my power."</p> - -<p>"That is all I ask. That granted, I can make sure of the rest. And really it -is not such a great matter after all. Only a little advice; but such advice as -only a woman--more than that, only a peculiar kind of woman--can give."</p> - -<p>"Do I fulfil the requirements?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly."</p> - -<p>"Then proceed at once; and I will promise to answer exactly as I think."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, I have a friend, about my own age, of sufficiently mean birth, -whose father was a man of restricted views and small mind, both cramped and -narrowed by the doctrines of the religious sect to which he belonged, but whose -mother was an angel. Unfortunately the mother died too soon after the boy's -birth to be of much good to him, beyond leaving him the recollection of her -sweet face and voice and influence--a recollection which he cherishes to this -day. After his wife's death the boy's father became more and more imbued with -the sectarian doctrines, an undue observance of which had already had its effect -in his home, and, dying shortly after, left his son almost unprovided for, and -friendless, save in such friendship as the lad might have made for himself. -This, however, proved sufficient. The master of the school at which the lad -attended took great interest in him, half-adopted him as it were, and, when the -youth was old enough, took him as his assistant in the school. This would have -met my friend's views sufficiently--for he was a plodding, hardworking -fellow--had he had no other motive; but he had another: he was in love with the -schoolmaster's daughter, and she returned the passion. Am I wearying you with -this rigmarole?"</p> - -<p>"You know you are not. Please go on!"</p> - -<p>"So they proceeded in their Arcadian simplicity, until the schoolmaster died, -leaving his wife and daughter unprovided for; and my friend had to go out into -the world to seek his fortune--to seek his bread rather, I should say--bread to -be shared, as soon as he had found enough of it, with his betrothed. But while -he was floundering away, throwing out a grappling-iron here and there, striving -to attach himself to something where bread was to be earned, the young lady had -a slice of cake offered to her, and, as she had always preferred cake to bread, -she accepted it at once, and thought no more of the man who was hunting so -eagerly for penny rolls for her sake. You follow me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! Pray go on!"</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm nearly at the end of my story! When my friend found that the only -person in the world which was dear to him had treated him so basely he thought -he should die, and he said he should, but he didn't. He suffered frightfully; he -never attempts to deny that, though there was an end of all things for him; that -life was henceforth a blank, and all that sort of thing, for which see the -circulating library. And he recovered; he threw himself into the penny-roll -hunting with greater vigour than ever, and he succeeded wonderfully. For a time, -whenever his thoughts turned towards the woman who had treated him so -shamefully, had jilted him so heartlessly, he was full of anger and hopes for -revenge, but that period passed away, and the desire to improve his position, -and to make progress in the work which he had undertaken, occupied all his -attention. Then he found that this was not sufficient; that his heart yearned -for some one to love, for some one to be loved by: and he found that some one, -but he did not ask her to become his wife!"</p> - -<p>"He did not. Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because he was afraid her mind might have been poisoned by some warped story -of his former engagement, some----"</p> - -<p>"Could he swear to her that his story--as you have told it to me--is true?"</p> - -<p>"He could, and he would!"</p> - -<p>"Then she would not be worthy of his love; if she refused to believe him!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, Maude, dearest and best, is there any need to involve the story further; -have you not known its meaning from the outset? Heart whole and intact, I offer -you my hand, and swear to do my best to make the rest of our lives happy if you -take it. You don't answer. Ah, I don't want you to. Thanks, dear, a thousand -times for giving me a new, fresh, worthy interest in life!"</p> - -<p> -"You here, Mr. Joyce? Why, when did you get back?"</p> - -<p>"Half an hour since, Gertrude. You did not expect me, I hear!"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not, or we shouldn't have gone out. And we did no good after all."</p> - -<p>"No good? How do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, madam was out. However, bother madam. Did you see Lady Caroline?"</p> - -<p>"I did."</p> - -<p>"And did you settle about Maude's staying with us?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Nor about her going to her ladyship's?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Why, what on earth was the use of your going to town? What have you -settled?"</p> - -<p>"That she's to stay with--me."</p> - -<p>"With you?"</p> - -<p>"With me."</p> - -<p>"Why, you don't mean to say that you're going--that she's going----?"</p> - -<p>"I do--exactly that."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you dear Walter! I am so delighted! Here, George! What did I say about -those three crows we saw as we were driving in the pony-chaise? They did mean a -wedding, after all!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_37" href="#div1Ref_37">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h4> -<h5>MARIAN'S RESOLVE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>To have an income of fifteen thousand a year, and to be her own mistress, -would, one would have imagined, have placed Marian Creswell on the pinnacle of -worldly success, and rendered her perfectly happy. In the wildest day-dreams of -her youth she had never thought of attaining such an income, and such a position -as that income afforded her. The pleasures of that position she had only just -begun to appreciate; for the life at Woolgreaves, though with its domestic -comforts, its carriages and horses and attentive servants, infinitely superior -to the life in the Helmingham schoolhouse, had no flavour of the outside world. -Her place in her particular sphere was very much elevated, but that sphere was -as circumscribed as ever. It was not until after her husband's death that Marian -felt she had really come into her kingdom. The industrious gentlemen who publish -in the newspapers extracts from the last will and testaments of rich or -distinguished persons--thereby planting a weekly dagger in the bosoms of the -impecunious, who are led by a strange kind of fascination to read of the -enormous sums gathered and bequeathed--had of course not overlooked the -testamentary disposition of Mr. Creswell, "of Woolgreaves, and Charleycourt -Mills, Brocksopp, cotton-spinner and mill-owner," but had nobly placed him at -the head of one of their weekly lists. So that when Mrs. Creswell "and suite," -as they were good enough to describe her servants in the local papers, arrived -at the great hotel at Tunbridge Wells, the functionaries of that magnificent -establishment--great creatures accustomed to associate with the salt of the -earth, and having a proper contempt, which they do not suffer themselves to -disguise, for the ordinary traveller--were fain to smile on her, and to give her -such a welcome as only the knowledge of the extent to which they intended -mulcting her in the bill could possibly have extorted from them. The same kindly -feeling towards her animated all the sojourners in that pleasant watering-place. -No sooner had her name appeared in the Strangers' List, no sooner had it been -buzzed about that she was the Mrs. Creswell, whose husband had recently died, -leaving her so wonderfully well off, than she became an object of intense -popular interest.</p> - -<p>Two ladies of title--the widow of a viscount (Irish), and the wife of a -baronet (English), insolvent, and at that moment in exile in the island of Coll, -there hiding from his creditors--left cards on her, and earnestly desired the -pleasure of her acquaintance. The roistering youth of the place, the East India -colonels, the gay dogs superannuated from the government offices, the retired -business-men, who, in the fallow leisure of their lives, did what they -would,--all looked on her with longing eyes, and set their wits to work on all -sorts of schemes to compass knowing her. Over the laity the clergy have a great -advantage--their mission is in itself sufficient introduction--and lists of all -the local charities, district churches to be erected, parsonages to be repaired, -and schools to be established, had been presented by those interested in them to -the rich widow in person before she had been forty-eight hours in the place.</p> - -<p>It was very pleasant, this popularity, this being sought after and courted -and made much of, and Marian enjoyed it thoroughly. Unquestionably, she had -never enjoyed anything so much in her previous life, and her enjoyment had no -alloy. For although just before her husband's death, and for some little time -after, she had had certain twinges of conscience as to the part she had acted in -leaving him ignorant of all her relations with Walter Joyce when she married -him, that feeling had soon died away. Before leaving home she had had a keen -experience of absolute enjoyment in signing cheques with her own name, and in -being consulted by Mr. Teesdale as to some business of her estate, and this -feeling increased very much during her stay at Tunbridge Wells. Nevertheless, -she did not remain there very long; she was pleased at being told that her -duties required her at home, and she was by no means one to shirk such duties as -the management of an enormous property involved.</p> - -<p>So Marian Creswell went back to Woolgreaves, and busied herself in learning -the details of her inheritance, in receiving from Mr. Teesdale an account of his -past stewardship, and listening to his propositions for the future. It was very -pleasant at first; there were so many figures, the amounts involved were so -enormous, there were huge parchment deeds to look at, and actual painted maps of -her estates. She had imagined that during that period just prior to their -marriage, when she made herself useful to Mr. Creswell, she had acquired some -notion of his wealth, but she now found she had not heard of a tenth part of it. -There was a slate quarry in Wales, a brewery in Leamington, interest in -Australian ships, liens on Indian railways, and house property in London. There -seemed no end to the wealth, and for the first few weeks, looking at the details -of it with het own eyes, or listening to the account of it in Mr. Teesdale's -sonorous voice, afforded her real pleasure. Then gradually, and almost -imperceptibly, came back upon her that feeling which had overwhelmed her in her -husband's lifetime, of which she had gotten rid for some little space, but which -now returned with fifty-fold free-questioning, "What is the good of it all?"</p> - -<p>What indeed? She sat in the midst of her possessions more lonely than the -poorest cotter on any of her estates,--less cared for than the worn-out miner, -for whom, after his day's toil, his wife prepared the evening meal, and his -children huddled at his knee. Formerly her husband had been there, with his -kindly face and his soft voice, and she had known that, notwithstanding all -difference of age and temperament between them, so long as he lived there was -one to love her with a devotion which is the lot of few in this world. Now he -was gone, and she was alone. Alone! It was a maddening thought to a woman of -Marian's condition, without the consolation of religion, without the patience -calmly to accept her fate, without the power of bowing to the inevitable. Where -money was concerned she could scarcely bring herself to recognise the -inevitable, could scarcely understand that people of her wealth should, against -their own will, be left alone in this world, and that love, friendship, and all -their sweet associations, could not be bought.</p> - -<p>Love and friendship! Of the latter she could scarcely be said to have had any -experience; for Marian Ashurst was not a girl who made friends, and Mrs. -Creswell found no one equal to being admitted to such a bond; and as to the -former, though she had enjoyed it once, she had almost forgotten all about it. -It came back to her, however, as she thought over it; all the sweet words, the -soft endearing epithets, and the loving looks came back to her, all the fond -memory of that time when, for a period, the demon of avarice was stilled, the -gnawing desire for money, and what money in her idea might bring, was quenched; -when she was honestly proud of her lover, happy in the present, and expectant of -the future. She recollected the poor dresses and the cheap trinkets which she -had in those days; the wretched little presents which she and Walter had -exchanged, and the pleasure she experienced at receiving them at his hands. She -remembered the locket, with her portrait, which she had given him, and wondered -what had become of it. He had it, doubtless, yet, for he had never returned it -to her, not even in that first wild access of rage which he may have felt at the -receipt of the letter announcing her intended marriage, nor since, when he had -cooled down into comparative carelessness. Surely that argued something in her -favour? Surely that showed that he had yet some lingering regard for her? In all -that had been told her of him--and specially during the election time she had -heard much--no mention had ever been made of any woman to whom he was paying -attention. She had thought of that before; she remembered it delightedly now. -Could it be that in the secret recesses of his heart there glimmered yet, -unquenched, a spark of love for her, the idol of his youth? It was not unlikely, -she thought; he was very romantic, as she remembered him--just the sort of man -in whom commerce with the world would be insufficient to blot out early -impressions, to efface cherished ideals.</p> - -<p>Could it be possible that the great crisis in her life was yet to come? That -the opportunity was yet to be given her of having wealth and position, and, to -share them with her, a husband whom she could love, and of whom she could be -proud? Her happiness seemed almost too great; and yet it was there on the cards -before her. Forgetting all she had done, and shutting her eyes to the fact that -she herself had made an enormous gulf between them, she blindly argued to -herself that it was impossible such love as Walter Joyce's for her could ever be -wholly eradicated, that some spark of its former fire must yet remain in its -ashes, and needed but tact and opportunity on her part to fan it again into -aflame. What would not life be, then, were that accomplished? She had been -pleased with the notion of entering society as Mr. Creswell's wife (poor prosaic -Mr. Creswell!), but as the wife of Walter Joyce, who was, according to Mr. -Gould, one of the most rising men of the day, and who would have her fortune at -his back to further his schemes and advance his interests, what might not be -done! Marian glowed with delight at this ecstatic day-dream; sat cherishing it -for hours, thinking over all kinds of combinations; finally put it aside with -the full determination to take some steps towards seeing Walter Joyce at once.</p> - -<p>How lucky it was, she thought, that she had behaved amiably on the -announcement of Gertrude Creswell's marriage, and not, as she had felt inclined -at first to do, returned a savage, or at best a formal, answer! These people, -these Benthalls, were just those through whose agency her designs must be -carried out. They were very friendly with Walter, and of course saw something of -him; indeed, she had heard that he was expected down to stay at Helmingham, so -soon as he could get away from London. If she played her cards well--not too -openly at first, but with circumspection--she might make good use of these -people; and as they would not be too well off, even with the interest of -Gertrude's money, if they had a family (and these sort of people, poor parsons -and schoolmasters--James Ashurst's daughter had already learned to speak in that -way--always had a large number of children), she might be able, in time, to buy -their services and mould them to her will.</p> - -<p>It was under the influence of these feelings that Marian had determined on -being exceedingly polite to the Benthalls, and she regretted very much that she -had been away from home at the time when they called on her. She wrote a note to -that effect to Mrs. Benthall, and intimated her intention of returning the visit -almost immediately. Mrs. Benthall showed the note to her husband, who read it -and lifted his eyebrows, and asked his wife what it meant, and why the widow had -suddenly become so remarkably attached to them. Mrs. Benthall professed her -inability to answer his question, but remarked that it was a good thing that -"that" was all settled between Maude and Walter, before Walter came in madam's -way again.</p> - -<p>"But he isn't likely to come in her way again," said the Reverend George.</p> - -<p>"I don't know that," said Gerty; "this sudden friendship for us looks to me -very much as though----"</p> - -<p>"You don't mean to say you think Mrs. Creswell intends making a convenience -of us?" asked Mr. Benthall.</p> - -<p>"I think she did so intend," said Gertrude; "but she----"</p> - -<p>"We'll have nothing of that sort!" cried Mr. Benthall, going through that -process which is known as "flaring up;" "we can get on well enough without her -and her presents, and if----"</p> - -<p>"Ah, you silly thing," interrupted Gertrude, "don't you see that when Walter -marries Maude, there will be an end of any use to which we could be put by Mrs. -Creswell, even if we were not going away to the Newmanton living in a very few -weeks? You may depend upon it, that as soon as she hears the news--and I will -take care to let her know it when she calls here--she will gracefully retire, -and during the remainder of our stay in Helmingham we shall see very little more -of the rich widow."</p> - -<p> -On the night of his acceptance by Maude Creswell, Walter wrote a long letter to -Lady Caroline. He wrote it in his room--the old room in which he used to sleep -in his usher-days: he had bargained to have that when he came down--when all the -household was in bed, after an evening passed by him in earnest conversation -with Maude and Gertrude, while Mr. Benthall busied himself with an arrangement -of affairs consequent upon his giving up the school, which he had decided upon -doing at midsummer. In the course of that long conversation Walter mentioned -that he was about to write to Lady Caroline, acquainting her with what had taken -place, and also told the girls of his having consulted her previous to the step -which he had taken. He thought this information, as showing Lady Caroline's -approbation of the match, would be hailed with great delight; and he was -surprised to see a look pass between Maude and Gertrude, and to hear the latter -say--</p> - -<p>"Oh, Walter, you don't mean to say you asked Lady Caroline's advice as to -your marrying Maude!"</p> - -<p>"Certainly I did; and I'm sure Maude will see nothing strange in it. She -knows perfectly well that----"</p> - -<p>"It is not for Maude's sake that I spoke; but--but, Walter, had you no idea, -no suspicion that----"</p> - -<p>"That what, my dear Gertrude? Pray finish your sentence."</p> - -<p>"That Lady Caroline cared for you herself?"</p> - -<p>"Cared for me!"</p> - -<p>"Cared for you loved you! wanted to marry you! Can I find plainer language -than that?"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens, child, what nonsense are you talking! There is not the -remotest foundation for any such belief. Lady Caroline is my kindest and best -friend. If there were no social difference between us, I should say she had -behaved to me as a sister; but as for anything else--nonsense, Gertrude!"</p> - -<p>Gertrude said no more; she merely shrugged her shoulders and changed the -subject. But the effect of that conversation was not lost on Walter Joyce. It -showed in the tone of his letter to Lady Caroline written that night, softening -it and removing it entirely from the brusque and business-like style of -correspondence which he generally indulged in.</p> - -<p>The next day he left Helmingham early, having had a stroll with Maude,--in -which he expressed his wish that the marriage should take place as soon as -possible,--and a short talk with Gertrude, in which, however, he made no -reference to the topic discussed on the previous evening.</p> - -<p>It was a lucky thing that Mr. Joyce had started by an early train; for the -Benthalls had scarcely finished their luncheon, before there was a violent -ringing at the gate-bell,--there was no servant in the county who, for his size, -could make more noise than Marian's tiger,--and Mrs. Creswell was announced. She -had driven the ponies slowly over from Woolgreaves, and had been enjoying the -bows and adulation of the villagers as she came along. Though of course she had -driven through the village scores of times, she had never been to the -schoolhouse since she left it with her mother on their memorable visit to -Woolgreaves, that visit which resulted in her marriage.</p> - -<p>She was not an emotional woman, Mrs. Creswell; but her heart beat rather -faster than its placid wont as she crossed the threshold of the gate, and -stepped at once into the garden, where so many of the scenes of her early -history had been passed. There was the lawn, as untidy as in her poor father's -days, bordered by the big elm-trees, under whose shadow she had walked in the -dull summer evenings, as the hum from the dormitories settled down into silence -and slumber; and her lover was free to join her there, and to walk with her -until their frugal supper was announced. There were the queer star and -pear-shaped flower-beds, the virginia-creeper waving in feathery elegance along -the high wall, the other side of which was put to far more practical -purposes--bore stucco instead of climbers, and re-echoed to the balls of the -fives-players. There were the narrow walks, the old paintless gate-bell, that -lived behind iron bars, the hideous stone pine-apples on either side of the -door, just as she remembered them.</p> - -<p>In the drawing-room, too, where she was received by Mrs. Benthall, with the -exception of a smell of stale tobacco, there was no difference: the old paper on -the walls, the old furniture, the old dreary outlook.</p> - -<p>After the first round of visiting talk, Marian asked Gertrude how she liked -her new home.</p> - -<p>Gerty was, if anything, frank.</p> - -<p>"Well, I like it pretty well," she said. "Of course it's all new to me, and -the boys are great fun."</p> - -<p>"Are they?" said Marian, with an odd smile; "they must have changed a great -deal. I know I didn't think them 'great fun' in my day."</p> - -<p>"Well, I mean for a little time. Of course they'd bore one awfully very soon, -and I think this place would bore one frightfully after a time, so dull and -grim, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"It's very quiet; but you mustn't let it bore you, as you call it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that won't matter much, because it will only be for so short a time."</p> - -<p>"So short a time! Are you going to leave Helmingham?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes; haven't you heard? George has got a living--such a jolly place, they -say--in the Isle of Wight; Newmanton they call it; and we give up here at -midsummer."</p> - -<p>"I congratulate you, my dear Gertrude, as much as I bewail my own misfortune. -I was looking forward with such pleasure to having you within reachable distance -in this horribly unneighbourly neighbourhood, and now you dash all my hopes! -Whence did Mr. Benthall get this singular piece of good fortune?"</p> - -<p>"George got the presentation from Lord Hetherington, who is a great friend of -Wal--I mean of a great friend of ours. And Lord Hetherington had seen George in -London, and had taken a fancy to him, as so many people do; and he begged his -friend to offer this living to George."</p> - -<p>"That is very delightful indeed; I must congratulate you, though I must say I -deserve a medal for my selflessness in doing so. It will be charming for your -sister, too; she never liked this part of the country much, I think; and of -course she will live with you?"</p> - -<p>"No, not live with us; we shall see her whenever she can get away from -London, I hope."</p> - -<p>"From London! ah, I forgot. Of course she will make your friend -Lady--Man--Lady Mansergh's her headquarters?"</p> - -<p>"No; you are not right yet, Mrs. Creswell," said Gertrude, smiling in great -delight, and showing all her teeth. "The fact is, Maude is going to be married, -and after her marriage she will live the greater part of the year in London."</p> - -<p>"To be married! indeed!" said Marian--she always hated Maude much worse than -Gertrude. "May one ask to whom?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, certainly; every one will know it now,--to the new member here, Mr. -Joyce."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Marian quite calmly (trust her for that!). "I should think -they would be excellently matched!--My dear Gertrude, how on earth do you get -these flowers to grow in a room? Mine are all blighted, the merest brown -horrors."</p> - -<p> -"Would he prefer that pale spiritless girl--not spiritless, but missish, knowing -nothing of the world and its ways--to a woman who could stand by his side in an -emergency, and help him throughout his life? Am I to be for ever finding one or -other of these doll-children in my way? Shall I give up this last new greatest -hope simply because of this preposterous obstacle? Invention too, perhaps, of -the other girl's, to annoy me. Walter is not that style of man--last person on -earth to fancy a bread-and-butter miss, who---- We will see who shall win in -this round. This is an excitement which I certainly had not expected."</p> - -<p>And the ponies never went so fast before.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_38" href="#div1Ref_38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE RESULT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The second day after Mrs. Creswell's visit to Helmingham, Walter Joyce was -sitting in his chambers hard at work. The approaching change in his condition -had affected him very little indeed. He had laughed to himself to think how -little. He would have laughed more had he not at the same time reflected that it -is not a particularly good sign for a man to be so much overwhelmed by business -or so generally careless as to what becomes of him, as to look upon his marriage -with very little elation, to prepare for it in a very matter-of-fact and -unromantic way. That no man can serve two masters we know on the best authority; -and there are two who certainly will not brook being served at the same time by -the one worshipper, love and ambition. Joyce had been courting the latter deity -for many months with unexampled assiduity, and with very excellent success, and, -in reality, had never swerved in his allegiance. He was afraid he had; he -induced himself to believe that that desire for some one to share his life with -him was really legitimate love-prompting, whereas it was much more likely a mere -wish, springing from vanity, to have some one always at hand with the censer, -some one to play the part of the stage-confidante, and receive all his -outpourings while at the same time she was loud in his praises. The love which -he felt for Maude Creswell differed as much from the passion with which, in the -bygone years, Marian Ashurst had inspired him, as the thick brown turgid Rhine -stream which flows past Emmerich differs from the bright, limpid, -diamond-sprayed water which flashes down at Schaffhausen; but there was "body" -in it, as there is in the Rhine stream at Emmerich, sufficient to keep him -straight from any of the insidious attacks of ambition, as he soon had occasion -to prove.</p> - -<p>Not that the news which Gertrude Benthall had confided to him in regard to -Lady Caroline Mansergh had touched him one whit. In the first place, he thought -Gertrude had deceived herself, or, at all events, had misconstrued the feelings -by which Lady Caroline was actuated towards him; and in the second--supposing -the girl was right, and all was as she believed--it would not have had the -smallest influence in altering anything he had done. He was not a brilliant man, -Walter Joyce, clever in his way, but lacking in <i>savoir faire</i>; but he had -a rough odd kind of common sense which stood him in better stead than mere -worldly experience, and that showed him that in his true position the very worst -thing he could have done for himself would have been to go in for a great -alliance. Such a proceeding would have alienated the affections and the -confidence of all those people who had made him what he was, or rather who had -seen him struggle up to the position he enjoyed, and given him a helping hand at -the last. But it was because he had struggled up himself by his own exertions -that they liked him, whereas any effort in his favour by the aid of money or -patronage would have sent them at once into the opposition ranks. No, Lady -Caroline was still the kindest, the dearest, the best of his friends! He found a -letter from her on his return to chambers, full of warm congratulations, telling -him that she was compelled to follow the medical advice of which she had spoken -to him, and to leave London for a few weeks; but she hoped on her return to -welcome him and his bride to Chesterfield Street, and retain them ever on the -very narrow list of her chiefest intimates. He was engaged on a letter to Jack -Byrne when there came a sharp clear knock at the door; such a different knock -from that usually given by the printer's boy, his most constant visitor, that he -laid down his pen, and called sonorously, "Come in!"</p> - -<p>The handle was turned quietly, the door was opened quickly, and Marian -Creswell came into the room.</p> - -<p>Walter did not recognise her at first; her veil was half over her face, and -she was standing with her back to the light. A minute after, he exclaimed, "Mrs. -Creswell!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mr. Joyce; Mrs. Creswell! You did not expect me."</p> - -<p>"I did not, indeed. You are, I confess, one of the last persons I should have -expected to see in these rooms."</p> - -<p>"No doubt; that is perfectly natural; but I come on a matter of business."</p> - -<p>"As does every one who favours me with a visit. I cannot imagine any one -coming here for pleasure. Pray be seated; take the 'client's chair.'"</p> - -<p>"You are very bright and genial, Mr. Joyce; as every successful man is."</p> - -<p>"As every man ought to be, Mrs. Creswell; as every tolerably successful man -can afford to be."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you wonder how I found your address."</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world. Unfortunately I know too well that it is in the -archives of the <i>Post-office Directory</i>.Behold the painful evidences of the -fact!" and he pointed to a table covered with papers. "Petitions, -begging-letters, pamphlets, circulars, all kinds of unreadable literature."</p> - -<p>"Yes; but I don't study the <i>Post-office Directory</i>,as a rule."</p> - -<p>"No; but you looked at it to-day, because you had an object in view. Given -the object, you will not hesitate to depart in any way from your usual course, -Mrs. Creswell."</p> - -<p>"I will not pretend to ignore your sarcasm, nor will I say whether it is -deserved or undeserved, though perhaps my presence here just now should have -induced you to spare me."</p> - -<p>"I did not mean to be sarcastic; I simply gave utterance to a thought that -came into my mind. You said you came on a matter of business? I must be rude -enough to remind you that I am very busy just now."</p> - -<p>"I will detain you a very short time; but, in the first place, let us drop -this fencing and folly. You know my husband is dead?"</p> - -<p>Joyce bowed.</p> - -<p>"And that I am left with a large, a very large fortune at my disposal?"</p> - -<p>"I heard so, not merely when I was down at Helmingham the other day, but here -in London. It is common talk."</p> - -<p>"You were down in Helmingham the other day? Ah, of course! However, suppose I -had come to you to say----" and she paused.</p> - -<p>Joyce looked at her with great composure. "To say!" he repeated.</p> - -<p>"I must go through with it," she muttered beneath her breath. "To say that -the memory of old days is always rising in my mind, the sound of old words and -places always ringing in my ears, the remembrance of old looks almost driving me -mad! Suppose I had come to say all this--and this besides--share that fortune -with me!"</p> - -<p>"To say that to <i>me!</i>"</p> - -<p>"To you!"</p> - -<p>"It is excessively polite of you, and of course I am very much flattered, -necessarily. But, Mrs. Creswell, there is one thing that would prevent my -accepting your very generous offer."</p> - -<p>"And that is--"</p> - -<p>"I am engaged to be married."</p> - -<p>"I had heard some report of that kind; but, knowing you as I do, I had set -very little store by it. Walter Joyce, I have followed your fortunes, so far as -they have been made public, for many months, and I have seen how, step by step, -you have pushed yourself forward. You have done well, very well; but there is a -future for you far beyond your present, if you but take advantage of the -opportunity which I now offer you. With the fortune which I ask you to share -with me--a fortune, mind; not a few thousand pounds such as you are anticipating -with Maude Creswell, but with a fortune at your back, and your talents, you may -do anything; there is no position which might not be open to you."</p> - -<p>"You are drawing a tempting picture."</p> - -<p>"I am drawing a true one; for in addition to your own brains, you would have -those of a woman to aid you: a woman, mind, who has done for herself what she -proposes to do for you; who has raised herself to the position she always longed -for--a woman with skill to scheme, and courage to carry out. Do you follow me?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly."</p> - -<p>"And you agree?"</p> - -<p>"I think not. I'm afraid it's impossible. I know it's not an argument that -will weigh with you at all, or that, perhaps, you will be able to understand; -but, you see, my word is pledged to this young lady."</p> - -<p>"Is that all? I should think some means might be found to compensate the -young lady for her loss."</p> - -<p>Walter Joyce's face was growing very dark, but Marian did not perceive it.</p> - -<p>"No, it is not all," he said coldly; "the thing would be impossible, even if -that reason did not exist."</p> - -<p>She saw that her shaft had missed its mark, but she was determined to bring -him down, so tried another.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Walter," she said, "do you answer me like this? In memory of the dear -old days----"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" he cried, bringing his hand down heavily on the writing-table before -him, and springing to his feet. "Stop!" he cried, in a voice very different from -the cold polite tone in which he had hitherto spoken; "don't name those times, -or what passed in them, for in your mouth such allusions would be almost -blasphemy. Marian Creswell--and the mere fact that I have to call you by that -name ought to have told you what would be my answer to your proposition before -you came here--perhaps if I were starving I might take an alms of you, but under -no other circumstance would I touch a farthing of that money which you pride -yourself on having secured. You must have been strangely forgetful when you -talked to me, as you did just now, of having 'raised yourself to the position -you always longed for,' and of having 'skill to scheme and courage to carry out' -what you desire. You forgot, surely, that in those words you told me--what I -knew before, by the way--that you longed for your present position while you -were my promised wife; and that you were bringing your skill and your courage to -work to obtain it, while I was striving, and hoping, and slaving for you."</p> - -<p>"We had better put an end to this interview," said Marian, attempting to -rise. "Ah, Walter, spare me!"</p> - -<p>"Spare you!" he cried in unaltered tones. "Did you spare me while all this -was going on? Did you spare me when"--he opened a drawer at his side and took -out a folded paper---"when you wrote me this cruel letter, blasting my hopes and -driving me to despair, and almost to madness? Spare you! Who have you spared? -Did you spare those girls, the nieces of the kindly old man whom you married, -or, because they were in your way, did not have them turned out of his house, -their natural home? Did you spare the old man himself when you saw him fretting -against the step which you had compelled him to take? Who have you spared, whom -have you not overridden, in your reckless career of avarice and ambition?"</p> - -<p>She sat cowed and trembling for a moment, then raised her head and looked at -him with flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Joyce," she said in a very hard voice, that -came clipping out between her tight lips,--"I am much obliged to you for -permitting me to be present at a private rehearsal of one of your speeches. It -was very good, and does you great credit. You have decidedly improved since I -saw you on the platform at Brocksopp. Your style is perhaps a little turgid, a -little bombastic, but that doubtless is in accordance with the taste of those of -whose sentiments you are the chosen and the popular exponent. I must ask you to -see me to the cab at the door. I am unaccustomed to London, and have no footman -with me. Thanks!" And she walked out of the door which he had opened for her, -and preceded him down the staircase, with a volcano raging in her breast, but -with the most perfect outward composure.</p> - -<p> -See the curtain now about to drop on this little drama,--comedy of manners -rather,--where nothing or no one has been in extremes; where the virtuous people -have not been wholly virtuous; and where the wickedest have had far less carmine -and tinsel than the author has on former occasions found a necessity to use. -There is no need to "dress" the characters with military precision in a straight -line; for there is no "tag" to be spoken, no set speech to be delivered; and, -moreover, the characters are all dispersed.</p> - -<p>Gertrude and her husband are in their seaside home, happy in each other and -their children. Walter and his wife are vey happy, too, in their quiet way. He -has not made any wonderful position for himself as yet; but he is doing well, -and is well thought of by his party. Dr. Osborne has retired from practice; but -most of the Helmingham and Brocksopp folk are going on much in their usual way.</p> - -<p>And Marian Creswell? The woman with the peaked face and the scanty hair -turning gray, who is seldom at her own house, but appears suddenly at Brighton, -Bath, Cheltenham, or Torquay, and disappears as suddenly, is Marian Creswell. -The chosen quarry of impostors and sycophants, she has not one single friend in -whom to confide, one creature to care for her. She is alone with her wealth; -which is merely a burden to her, and has not the power of affording her the -smallest gratification.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>PRINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wrecked in Port, by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRECKED IN PORT *** - -***** This file should be named 61447-h.htm or 61447-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/4/4/61447/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the US Web Archive -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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