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COURT NETHERLEIGH 
 
 % ioijti. 
 
 BY 
 
 MES. HENKY WOOD, 
 
 AUTHOE OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE YOLUMES. 
 Vol. I. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, New Burlington Steeet, 
 
 ISuliIt^Ijcr^ til ertfmarB t0 H^zx ;^a)^^tfi» 
 
 1881. 
 
 [_All Eights of Translation and Eeproduction are Eeserved.'] 
 
LOKDOIT : 
 
 PKlNTED BY J. OGDEN AND CO., 
 
 173, SI. JOHN STBHET, I.C. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 -•o«- 
 
 V.I 
 
 CEA.P. PAGE 
 
 L Miss Margery 1 
 
 n. The Shot 23 
 
 in. Left to Robert ...... 49 
 
 rV. At Chenevix House ..... 68 
 
 V. Lady Adela ....... 91 
 
 VI. All Down Hill 119 
 
 Vn. Desperation ....... 140 
 
 Vm. The Baby 164 
 
 IX. Joseph Horn's Testimony ..... 182 
 
 X. A Costly IMania 206 
 
 XI. With Madame Damereau . . . . .227 
 
 Xn. A Lecture 249 
 
 Xm. Folly 276 
 
 XIV. Lady Adela | 301 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/courtnetherleigh01wood 
 
COURT NETHEELEIGH. 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MISS MARGERY. 
 
 N the midst of the Berkshire scenery, so 
 fair and wealthy, this pleasant little 
 place, Netherleigh, nestled in a grassy hollow. 
 It w^as but a small, unpretending hamlet at 
 the best, and its rustic inhabitants were hard- 
 working and simple. 
 
 On the vast plain, surrounding it on all 
 sides as far as the eye could reach, with its 
 forests of trees, its hills and dales , and its 
 sparkling streams of water, sat many a noble 
 mansion of ancient or modern architecture, 
 and of greater or lesser account and note in 
 the county. Farm homesteads might be seen 
 in plenty, surrounded by their out-buildings, 
 their barns and ricks. Labourers' cottages 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 were dotted about ; labourers themselves 
 toiled at their several occupations. 
 
 Flanking the village, and looking down 
 upon it from its own eminence, rose the 
 stately walls of Court Netherleigh : an im- 
 posing and beautiful edifice, with which none 
 of those other mansions in the distance could 
 compare. It was built of quaint red brick, 
 curious but bright -looking, and its gables and 
 angles were picturesque in a high degree. 
 Winding upwards from the village, you came 
 upon the entrance gates on the left of the 
 road — great gates of wrought iron, with two 
 smaller gates beside them. The lodges, built 
 to match the house, stood a little back, one 
 on each side the gates, roses and honeysuckles 
 adorning the porches and lower windows. In 
 one of these lodges, that on the left as you 
 entered, lived the gatekeeper and his family ; 
 in the other the head gardener. Let us, in 
 imagination, enter the gates. 
 
 It is Monday morning, the First of October, 
 and a lovely day — warm, sunny, and genial. 
 The gatekeeper's wife, a child clinging to her 
 apron, runs to the door at the sound of steps, 
 
MISS MARGERY. 3 
 
 lest, liaply, the great gates should need to be 
 flung open. Seeing only a foot-passenger, 
 she drops a curtsey. Winding onwards 
 through the drive that divides the park, we see 
 the house — Court Netherleigh, a wide, low, 
 picturesque house ; or perhaps it is only its 
 great size that makes it look low, for it is 
 three stories high. At the back, hidden by 
 clusterino- trees, are the stables and out-offices. 
 Extensive gardens lie around, which show 
 a profusion of luscious fruits and choice 
 vegetables, of smooth, green lawns, miniature 
 rocks, grassy glades, and lovely flowers. Fine 
 old trees give shade to the park, deer sport on 
 its level grass. Altogether, the place is grand 
 and beautiful, and evidently well-cared for. 
 Whosoever it may be that reigns at Court 
 Netherleigh reigns with no sparing hand. 
 
 We shall soon see her, for it is a lady. 
 Ascending the three low broad stone steps 
 to the entrance hall, rooms lie on each hand. 
 These rooms are not inhabited this morning. 
 We must make our way to the back of the 
 hall, go down a passage at right angles with 
 it, on the right^j;iid open a door at the end. 
 
4 COURT NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 A rather small room, its walls white and 
 gold, t]ie tint of its furniture a pale, subdued 
 green, glass doors standing open to the outer 
 air — that is what arrested the eye. It was 
 called Miss Margery's parlour, and of all the 
 rooms in Court Netherleigh it was the one 
 that Miss Margery loved the best. 
 
 Miss Margery was seated in it this morning, 
 near the table, sewing away at a child's 
 petticoat, intended probably for one of the 
 young ones at the lodge, or for some little 
 waif in the hamlet. Miss Margery was no 
 hand at fine work, she was wont to say, but 
 at plain, useful work, few could beat her, and 
 she did not choose to be idle. She was a 
 little woman, short and small, with a fair 
 complexion and plain features, possessing 
 more than her proper share of good common 
 sense, and very active and energetic, as little 
 people often are. She always wore silk. Her 
 gown this morning was of her favourite colour, 
 violet, with a large lace collar fastened by a 
 gold brooch.; and black lace mittens under her 
 lace-edged sleeves. She wore also a white 
 clear-muslin apron with a braided border ; the 
 
MISS MARGERY. 5 
 
 fashion of these aprons had come in when 
 Miss Margery was a much younger woman, 
 and she would not leave them off. She need 
 not have worn a cap, for her hair was still 
 abundant ; but in those days middle-aged 
 ladies wore caps, and Miss Margery was 
 turned fifty. She wore her hair in ringlets, 
 also the custom then, and the lace lappets of 
 her cap fell behind them. This was Miss 
 Upton, generally in the house called Miss 
 Margery, the owner of Court Netherleigh and 
 its broad lands. 
 
 The glass doors of the French window 
 opened to the lawn, on which lay beds of 
 mignonette and other sweet-scented flowers, 
 a fountain playing in the midst. At the open 
 window, one of them just outside, the other 
 within, stood two young girls in the first 
 blush of womanhood. The elder, Frances, 
 had light hair and a piquant, saucy face ; it 
 had no particular beauty to recommend it, 
 but her temper was of the pleasantest, and 
 her manners were charming. Hence Frances 
 Chenevix was a general favourite. Her sister, 
 one year younger than herself, and just 
 
6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 nineteen, was beautiful. Her hair and eyes 
 were of a bright brown, her features classically 
 faultless, and the colour on her cheeks was 
 delicate as a blush-rose. The sisters were of 
 •middle height, graceful and slender, and — 
 there was no mistaking it — eminently aristo- 
 cratic in bearing. They wore morning dresses 
 of pink cambric — the mode in those by-gone 
 days. 
 
 The elder, standing outside, had her hand 
 to her eyes, shading them from the light, 
 while she looked out steadily. The window 
 faced the open country, on the side farthest 
 from the village, which lay on the other side 
 the house. About half-a-mile distant might 
 be seen the irregular chimneys of an old- 
 fashioned house, called Moat Grange, with 
 whose inmates they were intimate ; and it 
 was in that direction she was gazing. 
 
 '^ Do you happen to have a glass, Aunt 
 Margery?" she suddenly asked, dropping 
 her hand from her eyes and putting her head 
 indoors to speak. 
 
 *' A glass!" repeated Aunt Marger3^ 
 *' What sort of a glass, Frances ? " 
 
MISS MARGERY. 7 
 
 '' Oil, I mean a telescope." 
 
 '' There's one in the blue drawing-room. 
 Adela can fetch it for you. It is in the table - 
 drawer, my dear. But what is it you want to 
 look at, Frances?" added Miss Upton, as 
 Adela went in search of the glass. 
 
 ' ' Only at a group in the road yonder. I 
 cannot make out whether or not they are the 
 people from the Grange. If so — they may be 
 coming here. But they seem te be standing 
 still ; not to be moving." 
 
 " Some labourers mending the road," quietly 
 spoke Miss Upton. 
 
 " No, Aunt Margery, I don't think so ; I 
 am nearly sure I can distinguish bonnets. 
 Something is glittering in the sun." 
 
 " Do bonnets glitter, child ? " 
 
 Frances laughed. '^ Selina has some shining 
 grass in hers. Did you not notice it yester* 
 day in church ? " 
 
 ''Not I," said Miss Upton; ''but I can 
 take your word for it. Selina Dalrymple is 
 fonder of dress than a French doll. Lack of 
 sense and love of finery often go together," 
 added Miss Upton, looking off her work to 
 
8 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 retliread lier needle : and Frances Chenevix 
 nodded assent. 
 
 She stood looking out at the landscape : at 
 the signs of labour to be seen around. The 
 harvest was gathered, but out-door work, and 
 plenty of it, lay to hand. Waggoners paced 
 slowly beside their teams, with a crack now 
 and again of the whip they held, or a word of 
 encouragement to the leading horse. At this, 
 moment the sound of a gun was heard in the 
 direction of Moat Grano-e. Frances went into 
 excitement. 
 
 *' Aunt Margery, they are shooting ! " 
 
 *' Well, my dear, is that anything unusual 
 on the First of October ? '' spoke Miss Upton, 
 smiling. '^ Robert Dalrymple would think it 
 strange, I guess, if he did not go out to-day 
 to bag his pheasants — poor things ! I daresay 
 it was his gun." 
 
 "And there's another report — and another! " 
 cried the young lady. *' They are shooting 
 away ! Adela must be making that glass > 
 Aunt Margery." 
 
 Adela Chenevix had gone, listlessly enough, 
 into the blue room : one of the magnificent 
 
A/ISS MARGERY. 9 
 
 drawing-rooms in front, its colours blue and 
 silver. She opened the first table -drawer she 
 came to ; but did not see a telescope, or any- 
 thing that looked like one. Then she glanced 
 about her in other directions. 
 
 "Janet/' she called out, hearing a maid 
 servant pass the door, "do you know where 
 the telescope is ? " 
 
 " The spy-glass/' returned the girl, enter- 
 ing, and calling the article by the name most 
 familiar to her. " No, I don't, my lady.'"' 
 
 " Aunt Margery said it was in this room." 
 
 " I know Miss Margery had it a few days, 
 ago. She was spying through it at that rick 
 that was on lire over yonder. I'll look in the 
 other rooms, my lady." 
 
 Adela sat down at the window, and fell into 
 a train of thought. The maid came back, 
 saying she could not find the glass : and 
 the young lady forgot all about it, and sat 
 on. 
 
 "Well," said Miss Margery, interrupting 
 her presently, " and w^here's the glass you 
 were sent for, Adela ? x\nd what's the 
 matter ? " - 
 
I o CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 Aclela started up; the blush-rose on her 
 cheek deepening to a rich damask. 
 
 " I — I am afraid I forgot it, Aunt Margery. 
 I can't find the glass." 
 
 Miss Upton walked to the further end of 
 the large room, opened the drawer of a small 
 table, and took out the glass. 
 
 '' Oh," said Adela, repentantly; ''it was in 
 this table I looked, Aunt Margery." 
 
 "No doubt. But you should have looked 
 in this one also, Adela. I hope the child has 
 not got that Captain Stanley in her mind still, 
 worrying herself over his delinquencies ! " 
 mentally concluded Miss Upton for her own 
 private benefit. 
 
 Thev went back to the other room too^ether. 
 Frances Chenevix seized eagerly on the 
 delayed glass, used it, and let it drop, with a 
 disappointed air. 
 
 " They are road labourers, Aunt Margery, 
 and nothing else." 
 
 *' To be sure, my dear," calmly returned 
 Miss Upton, settling to her sewing again. 
 
 The owner of Court Netherleigh, preceding 
 Miss Margery, was Sir Francis Netherleigh ; 
 
M/SS MARGER V. 1 1 
 
 liis baronetcy being of old creation. Sir 
 Francis had lived at the Coort with his wife, 
 very quietly : they had no children : and if 
 both of them were of a saving turn, not to say 
 parsimonious, the fact might be accounted for, 
 and justified by their circumstances. Some 
 of his ancestors had been wofully extravagant : 
 and before he, Sir Francis, was born, his 
 father and grandfather had contrived together 
 to cut off the entail. The title must of course 
 go to the next male heir ; but the property — 
 what was left of it — need not. How^ever, it 
 was eventually willed in the right direction, 
 and Francis Nethcrleiixh came into the estate 
 and the title when he was a vouno- man. He 
 married a prudent, good woman, of gentle but 
 not high lineage ; they cheerfully set them- 
 selves to the work of repairing what their fore- 
 fathers had destroyed, and by the time Sir 
 Francis w^as five-and-fifty years of age, the 
 estate was riohted and brini^'in^? in its full 
 revenues again — fifteen thousand a year. 
 Lady Netherleigh died about that time, and 
 Sir Francis, as a widowei', continued to live 
 the same quiet, economical, unceremonious 
 
1 2 CO UR T J\E THERLEJGH. 
 
 life that lie and his wife had lived together. 
 He was a religious, good man. 
 
 Naturally, the question, to whom Sir 
 Francis would bequeath this fine estate, be- 
 came a matter of speculation with sundry 
 gossips — who always, you are aware, take 
 more interest in our affairs than we take our- 
 selves. The title would lapse ; that was 
 known ; unless indeed Sir Francis should 
 marry again and have a son. The only 
 relatives he had in the world were three distant 
 female cousins. 
 
 The eldest of these young ladies in point of 
 years was Catherine Grant ; the second was 
 Margery Upton ; and the third was Elizabeth 
 Cleveland. Margery and Elizabeth were 
 cousins in a third degree to one another ; but 
 they were not related to Catherine. The 
 young ladies met occasionally at Court 
 Netherleigh ; for Sir Francis invariably in- 
 vited all three of them together ; never one 
 alone. They corresponded at other times, 
 and were good friends. The first of them to 
 marry was Catherine Grant. She became 
 the wife of one Christopher Grubb, a merchant 
 
M/SS MA RGER V. 1 3 
 
 of account in the City of London. That you 
 must please understand was thirty years 
 before this month of October we are writing 
 of: and this again was many years prior to 
 the present time. 
 
 In those days, to be in trade, no matter of 
 how high a chiss it might be, was looked upon 
 by the upper classes as next door to being in 
 Purgatory. For all social purposes you might 
 almost as well have been in the one as the 
 other. Trading was a social crime, and 
 nothing less. Opinions have wonderfully 
 altered now ; but many people will remember 
 that what I state is true. Therefore, when 
 Catherine Grant, who was of gentle blood, so 
 far forgot what was due to herself and her 
 friends as to espouse Mr. Grubb, she was held 
 to have degraded herself for ever. What 
 with the man's name, and what with his 
 having a counting-house, poor Catherine had 
 effectually placed herself beyond the pale of 
 society. A few sharp, stinging letters were 
 written to her ; one by Sir Francis Nether- 
 leigh, one each by the two remaining young- 
 ladies ; they told her she had lost caste — 
 
14 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 and, in good truth, she had. From that horn- 
 Mrs . Grubb was consigned to the fate she was 
 deemed to have richly merited — obhvion : 
 and it may really be questioned whether in a 
 few years she w^as not absolutely forgotten. 
 As the daughter of a small country rector, 
 Miss Grant had not had the opportunity of 
 moving in the higher class of society (except 
 at Sir Francis Netherleigh's), and the other 
 two young ladies did move in it. She had, 
 in consequence, been already privately looked 
 down upon by Elizabeth Cleveland — whose 
 father, though a poor half-pay captain, was 
 the Honourable Mr. Cleveland : and so, said 
 Elizabeth, the girl had perhaps made a suitable 
 match, after all, according to her station ; all 
 of which made it only the more easy to ignore 
 Catherine Grubb's existence, and to forget 
 that such a person had ever inhabited the 
 civilised world. The next to marry was 
 Elizabeth Cleveland. Her choice fell upon a 
 spendthrift young peer, George Frederick 
 Chenevix, Earl of Acorn : or, it may be more 
 correct to say, his choice fell upon her. 
 Margery Upton did not marry at all. 
 
MISS MARGERY. 15 
 
 Years went on. Lord and Lady Acorn 
 took care to keep up an intimacy with Sir 
 Francis Netherleigh, privately hoping he 
 would make the Earl his heir. The Earl 
 needed it : he was a careless spendthrift. But 
 Sir Francis never gave them, or anyone else, 
 the slightest sign of such an intention — and 
 Lord Acorn's hopes were based solely on the 
 fact that he had "nobody else to leave it to;" 
 he had no male heir, or relative whatever, 
 save himself. He, the Earl, chose to consider 
 that he was a relative, in right of his wife. 
 
 Disappointment, however, as all have too 
 often experienced, is the lot of man. Lord 
 Acorn was fated to experience it in his turn. 
 Sir Francis Netherleigh died : and, with the 
 exception of legacies to servants, charities, 
 and else, the whole of his property was left un- 
 conditionally to Margery Upton. Miss Upton, 
 though probably as much surprised as any- 
 body else, accepted the large bequest calmly, 
 just as though it had been a matter of right, 
 and she the heiress apparent ; and she took 
 up her abode at Court Netherleigh. 
 
 This was fourteen years ago; she was eight- 
 
1 6 COURT NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 and -thirty then ; she ^vas two- and -fifty now. 
 Miss Upton had not wanted for suitors — as 
 the world will readily helieve : but she just 
 shook her head and sent them adrift. It was 
 her money they were after, not herself, she 
 told them candidly ; they had not thought of 
 her when she was supposed to be portionless ; 
 they should not think of her now. Thus she 
 had lived on at Court Netherleigh, and was 
 looked upon as a somewhat eccentric lady ; 
 but a thoroughly good woman and kind mis- 
 tress. 
 
 And the Acorns ? They had sw^allowed 
 their bitter disappointment with a good grace 
 in public ; and set themselves out to pay the 
 same assiduous court to Miss Upton that they 
 had paid to Sir Francis. ''I don't think 
 hers will be a long life," Lady Acorn said in 
 confidence to her lord, *' and then all the pro- 
 perty must come to us ; to you and to me : 
 she has no other relative in the world." 
 Common sense being common sense, the 
 ■world at large took up the same notion, and 
 Lord Acorn was universally regarded as the 
 imdoubted heir to the broad lands of Nether- 
 
MISS MARGERY. 17 
 
 leigh. As to the peer himself, nothing short 
 of a revelation from heaven would have shaken 
 his belief in the earnest of their future good 
 fortune ; and, between ourselves, he had 
 already borrowed money on the strength of it. 
 Never did a more sanguine or less prudent 
 man exist than he. The young ladies now 
 staying with Miss Upton wero his two youngest 
 daughters. In the gushi ig affection pro- 
 fessed for her by the family generally, the 
 girls had been trained to call her "Aunt 
 Margery : " though, as the reader must per- 
 ceive, she was not their aunt ; in fact, but 
 very distantly related to them. 
 
 " Tiresome things ! " cried Lady Frances, 
 toying with the glass still, but looking towards 
 the distant group of labourers. " I wish it 
 had been the Dalrymples on their way here." 
 
 '* You can put on your hats and go to Moat 
 Grange, as you seem so anxious to see them," 
 observed Miss Upton. " And you may ask 
 the young people to come in this evening, if 
 you like." 
 
 **0h, that will be delightful," cried Frances, 
 all alert in a moment. '* And that young 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
t8 court netherleigh. 
 
 lady who was at church with them, Aunt 
 Margery — are we to ask her also ? They 
 called her Miss Lynn/' 
 
 ^' Of course 5^ou are. What strangel}^ beau- 
 tiful eyes she had." 
 
 " Thank you, Aunt Margery,'* whispered 
 Adela, bending down with a kiss and a bright 
 smile, as she passed Miss Upton. Not that 
 Adela particularly cared for the Dalrymples ; 
 but the days at Court Netherleigh were, to 
 her, so monotonous. 
 
 The girls set forth in their pretty gipsy hats 
 of straw, trimmed with a wreath of roses. It 
 was not a lonely walk, cottages being scat- 
 tered about on the way. When nearing the 
 Grange they met a party coming from it : 
 Selina and Alice Dalrymple, the latter slightly 
 lame, and a young lady just come on a visit 
 to them, Mary Isabel Lynn : a thoughtful girl 
 with a fair face, a sweet countenance, and 
 wonderful grey-blue eyes, from which you 
 could hardly take your own. Gerard Hope 
 was with them : a gay-natured young fellow, 
 who was a Government clerk in London, and 
 liked to run down to Moat Grange for Sun- 
 
MISS MARGERY. 19 
 
 clays as often as lie could find a decent excuse 
 for it. 
 
 ^' So you arc here !" cried Frances to him, 
 in her off-handed manner — and perhaps the 
 thought that he might he there had been the 
 secret cause of her impatience to meet the 
 Dalrymples. '' What have you to say for 
 yourself, Mr. Gerard — after protesting and 
 vowing yesterday that the earliest morning 
 train would not be surer to start than you." 
 
 ^' Don't know what I shall say up there," 
 returned Mr. Hope, nodding his head in the 
 direction of London. '^ When I took French 
 leave to stay over Monday last time they told 
 me I should some day take it once too often." 
 
 *' You can put it upon the shooting, you 
 know, Gerard," interposed Selina. '• No 
 barbarous tyrant of a red-tape martinet could 
 expect you to go up and leave the pheasants 
 on the First of October. Put it to him 
 whether he could." 
 
 " And he will ask you how many pair you 
 bagged, and look round for those you have 
 brought for himself — see if he does not," 
 laughed Mary Lynn. 
 
20 COURT NETHEK LEIGH. 
 
 **But Gerard is not shooting/' commented 
 Frances. 
 
 "No," said Gerard, " these girls kept me. 
 Now, Selina, don't deny it : you know you 
 did." 
 
 ''What a story!" retorted Selina. "If 
 ever I met your equal, Gerard ! You stayed 
 behind of your own accord. Put it upon me, 
 if you like. I know. It was not for me 
 you stayed." 
 
 Frances Chenevix glanced at the delicate 
 and too conscious face of Alice Dalrymple. 
 Mr. Gerard Hope was a general admirer ; but 
 these two girls, Frances and Alice, were both 
 father dear to him — one of them, however, 
 more so than the other. Were they destined 
 to be rivals ? Frances gave Miss Margery's 
 invitation ; and it was eagerly accepted : but 
 not by Gerard. He really had to start for 
 town by the midday train. 
 
 " Will Miss Margery extend her invitation 
 to Oscar, do you think ? " asked Alice, in her 
 quiet voice. " He is staying with us." 
 
 "To be sure : the more, the merrier," 
 assented Frances. " Not that Oscar is one 
 
MISS MARGERY. 21 
 
 of my especial favourites," added the free- 
 speaking girl. ^' He is too solemn for me. 
 Why, he is graver than a judge." 
 
 They all rambled on together. Gerard 
 Hope and Frances somehow found themselves 
 behind the others. 
 
 ** Why did you stay to-day ? " the girl 
 asked him, in a low tone. "After saying 
 yesterday that it was simply impossible ! " 
 
 '' Could not tear myself away," he whis- 
 pered back again. " For one thing, I thought 
 I might again see you." 
 
 " Are you playing at two games, Gerard ?" 
 continued Frances, giving him a keen glance. 
 In truth she would like to know. 
 
 '^ I am not playing at one game yet," 
 answered the young man. '' It would not do, 
 you know." 
 
 '' What would not do ? As if anybody 
 could make top or tail of your talk when you 
 go in for obscurity ! " she added, with a 
 light laugh, as she gave a toss to her pretty 
 hat. 
 
 ''Were I to attempt to talk in language 
 less obscure, I should soon be set down ; 
 
22 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 therefore I never — we must conclude — shall 
 do it," spoke he, in a pained and strangely 
 earnest tone. And with that Mr. Hope 
 walked forward to join the others, leaving 
 a line of pain on the fair open brow of 
 Lady Frances Chenevix. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE SHOT. 
 
 rpHEY had brought clown the pheasants in 
 plenty : never had a Fh'st of October 
 afforded better spoil : and they had lingered 
 long at the sport, for evening was drawing on. 
 Eobert Dairy mple, the head of the party and 
 owner of Moat Grange — which was a desolate 
 Grange enough, to look at, with the remains 
 of a moat around it, long since filled in — 
 aimed at the last bird he meant to hit that 
 day, and missed it. He handed his gun to 
 his gamekeeper. 
 
 '' Shall I load again, sir ?" 
 
 *' No ; we have done enough for one day, 
 Hardy : and it is getting late. Come, Eobert. 
 Oscar, are you satisfied ? " 
 
 " He must be greedy if he is not," broke 
 in the hearty voice of the Honourable and 
 Eeverend Thomas Cleveland, the Eector of 
 
24 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Netherleigh, who liacl joined the shooting 
 party, and who was related to Lady Acorn, 
 though very distantly : for, some twenty ; ears 
 ago, the Earldom of Cleveland had lapsed to 
 a distant branch. 
 
 *' You will come home and dine with us, 
 Cleveland," spoke Mr. Dalrymple, as they 
 turned their faces tow^ards the Grange. 
 
 "What, in this trim? Mrs. Dahymple 
 would say I made myself free and easy." 
 
 '^ Nonsense! You know we don't stand 
 upon ceremony. James will give your boots 
 a brush. And, if you insist on being smart, I 
 will lend you a coat." 
 
 " You have lent me one before now. Thank 
 you. Then I don't care if I do," concluded 
 the Eector. 
 
 He had not time to go home and change 
 his things. The Eectory and the Grange 
 stood a good mile apart from each other, the 
 village lying between them — and the dinner- 
 hour was at hand. For the hours of that 
 period were not the fashionable ones of these, 
 when people dine at eight o'clock. Five 
 o'clock was thought to be the proper hour 
 
THE SHOT. 25 
 
 then, or six at the hitest, especially with un- 
 ceremonious country people. As to parsons, 
 they wore clothes cut as other people's were 
 cut, only that the coats were generally black. 
 
 '' Look out, Eobert," cried Mr. Cleveland to 
 young Dalrymple. ^' Stand away." And, turn- 
 ing round, the Eector fired his gun in the air. 
 
 '^ What is that for ?" demanded Oscar Dal- 
 rymple, a relative of the family, and staying 
 for a day or two at the Grange. 
 
 " I never carry home my gun loaded,'' was 
 Mr. Cleveland's answer. *' I have too many 
 young ones to risk it ; they are in all parts of 
 the house at once, putting their hands to 
 everything. Neither do I think it fair to 
 carry it into the house of a friend." 
 
 Oscar Dalrymple drew down the corners of 
 his mouth ; it gave an unpleasing expression 
 to his face, which was naturally cold. At 
 that moment a bird rose within range ; Oscar 
 raised his piece, fired and brought it down. 
 ''' That," said he, '4s how I like to waste good 
 powder and shot." 
 
 " All right, Mr. Oscar," was the Eector *s 
 hearty answer. '• To use it is better than to 
 
26 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Avaste it, but to waste it is better than to run 
 risks. Most of the accidents that happen 
 with guns are caused by want of precaution." 
 
 ** Shall I draw your charge, Mr. Eobert ?" 
 asked Hardy ; who, as a good church-going 
 man, had a reverence for all the Eector said, 
 in the church and out of it. 
 
 "' Draw the charge from mij gun ! " retorted 
 Hardy's young master; not, however, speak- 
 ing within ear-shot of Mr. Cleveland. ^' No. 
 I can take care of my playthings, if others 
 can't, Hardy," he added, with all the self- 
 sufficiency of a young and vain man. 
 
 Presently there came up a substantial 
 farmer, winding across the stubble towards his 
 own house, which they were passing. He 
 rented under Mr. Dalrymple. 
 
 '' Famous good sport to-day, hasn't it been, 
 Squire ?" cried he, saluting his landlord. 
 
 " Famous. Never better. Will you accept 
 a pair, Lee ?" continued Mr. Dalrymple. " We 
 have bagged plenty." 
 
 The farmer gladly took the pheasants. *' I 
 shall tell my daughters you shot them on 
 purpose. Squire," siid he jestingly. 
 
THE SHOT. 27 
 
 ^' Do," interposed Eobert, with a laugh. 
 '' Tell Miss Judith I shot them for her : in 
 return for her sewing up that rent in my coat, 
 the other day, and making me decent to go 
 home. Is the fence, where I fell, mended 
 yet?" 
 
 ''Mended yet ?" echoed Mr. Lee. "It was up 
 again in an hour after you left, Mr. Eobert." 
 
 ''Ah! I know you are the essence of order 
 and punctuality," returned Eobert. " You 
 must let me have the cost." 
 
 " Time enough for that/' said the farmer. 
 " 'Twasn't much. Good afternoon, gentlemen ; 
 your servant. Squire." 
 
 " Oh — I say — Lee," called out Eobert, as 
 the farmer was turning homewards, while the 
 rest of the party pursued their way, " about 
 the mud in that weir ? Hardy says it will 
 hurt the fish to do it now." 
 
 " That's just what I told you, Mr. Eobert.'* 
 
 " Well, then But I'll come down to- 
 morrow, and talk it over with you : I can't 
 stop now." 
 
 "As you please, sir. I shall be somewhere 
 about." 
 
28 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Eobert Dalrymple turned too hastily. His 
 foot caught against something sticking out of 
 the stubble, and in saving himself he nearly 
 dropped his gun. He recovered the gun with 
 a jerk, but the trigger was touched, he never 
 knew how, or with wdiat, and the piece went 
 off. A cry in front, a confusion, one man 
 down, and the others gathered round him w^as 
 all Robert Dalrymple saw, as through a mist. 
 He dropped the gun, started forward, and gave 
 vent to a cry of anguish. For it was his 
 father who had fallen. 
 
 The most collected was Oscar Dalrymple. 
 He always was collected ; his nature was 
 essentially cool and calm. Holding up Mr. 
 Dalrymple 's head and shoulders, he strove to 
 ascertain where the injury lay. Though very 
 pale, and lying with closed eyes, Mr. Dalrymple 
 had not fainted. 
 
 ^^ Oh, father," cried Eobert, with a wail of 
 grief, as he threw himself on his knees beside 
 him, '' I did not do it purposely — I don't 
 know how it happened." 
 
 " Purposely — no, my boy," answered his 
 father, in a kind tone, as he opened his eyes. 
 
THE SHOT. 29 
 
 '^ Cheer up, Charley." For, in fond moments, 
 and at other odd times, they would call the 
 boy by his second name, Charles. Eobert 
 often clashed with his father's. 
 
 *' I do not believe there's much harm 
 done," said the sufferer. ^' I think the 
 damage is in my left leg." 
 
 Mr. Dalrymple was right. The charge 
 had entered the calf of the left leg. Oscar 
 cut the leg of the trouser round at the knee 
 with a pen-knife, unbuttoned the short gaiter,, 
 and drew them off, and the boot. The blood 
 was running freely. As a matter of coursCj. 
 not a soul knew what ought to be done, 
 whether anything or nothing, all being pro- 
 foundly ignorant of the simple principles of 
 surgery, but they stumbled to the conclusion 
 that tying it up might stop the blood. 
 
 "Not that handkerchief," interposed Mr. 
 Cleveland, as Oscar was about to apply Mr. 
 Dalrymple's own, a red silk one. " Take 
 mine : it is white, and linen. The first thing 
 will be to get him home." 
 
 '' The first thing must be to get a 
 doctor," said Oscar. 
 
30 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ''Of course. But we can move liim home 
 while the doctor is coming. " 
 
 " Mv house is close at hand," said Farmer 
 Lee. ' ' Better move him there for the present." 
 
 "No, get me home," spoke up Mr. Dal- 
 rymple. 
 
 '' The Squire thinks that home's home," 
 commented the gamekeeper. " And so it is ; 
 'specially when one's sick." 
 
 True enough. The difficulty was, how to 
 get Mr. Dalrymple there. But necessity, as 
 we all know, is the true mother of invention : 
 and hy the help of a mattress, procured from 
 the farmer's, with impromptu bearings at- 
 tached to it made of '' webbing," as Mr. 
 Lee's buxom daughter called some particu- 
 larly strong tape she happened to have by her, 
 the means w^ere organised. Some labourers, 
 summoned by Mr. Lee, were pressed into the 
 service ; with Oscar Dalrymple, the farmer, 
 and the gamekeeper. These started with their 
 load. Kobert, in a state of distraction, had 
 flown off for medical assistance ; Mr. Cleve- 
 land had volunteered to go forward and pre- 
 pare Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 
THE SHOT. 31 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple, witli her daughters and 
 their guest, Mary Lynn, sat in one of the 
 old-fashioned rooms of the Grange, they and 
 the dinner ahke awaiting the return of the 
 shooting party. Old-fashioned as regarded 
 its construction and its carved-oak panelling — 
 dark as mahogany, hut handsome withal — and 
 opening into a larger and lighter drawing- 
 room. Mrs. Dalrymple, an agreeable woman 
 of three or four and forty, had risen, and was 
 bending over Miss Lynn's tambour-frame, 
 telling her it was growing too dusk to see. 
 Selina Dalrymple sat at the piano, trying a 
 piece of new music, talking and laughing at 
 the same time, and Alice, always more or less 
 of an invalid, lay on her reclining sofa near 
 the window. 
 
 '' Here is Mr. Cleveland," exclaimed Alice, 
 seeing him pass. '' I said he would be sure 
 to come here to dinner, mamma." 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple raised her head, and went. 
 in her simple hospitable fashion, to open the 
 hall door. He followed her back to the oak 
 parlour, and stood just w^ithin it. 
 
 "What a loDg day you have had ! " she 
 
-,2 COURT XETHERLEIGH. 
 
 j- 
 
 exclaimed. "I think you must all be tired. 
 Where are the others ? " 
 
 "They are behind," replied the clergy- 
 man. He had been determining to make 
 light of the accident at the first telling ; 
 quite a joke of it ; so as to prevent alarm. 
 " We have bagged such a quantity, Mrs. 
 Dalrymple : and your husband has asked me 
 to dinner : and is going to accommodate me 
 with a coat as well. Oh, but, talking of 
 bagging, and dinner, and coats, I hope you 
 have plenty of hot water in the house ; baths, 
 and all the rest of it. One of us has hurt 
 his leg, and w^e may want no end of hot w^ater 
 to wash it." 
 
 "That is Charley, I know," said Selina. 
 "He is always getting into some scrape. 
 Look at w^hat he did at Lee's last week." 
 
 " No ; it is not Charley, for once. Guess. 
 
 again." 
 
 "Is it Oscar?" 
 
 " Oscar ! " interposed Alice, from her sofa. 
 " Oscar is too cautious to get hurt." 
 
 " What should you say to its being me ? '* 
 said Mr. Cleveland, sitting down, and stretch- 
 
THE SHOT, y^ 
 
 ing out one leg, as if it were stiff and he could 
 not bend it. 
 
 *' Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dalrymple, 
 running forward with a foot-stool. *^How 
 did it happen ? You ought not to have 
 walked home." 
 
 ** No," said he, '' my leg is all right. It is 
 Dairy mple's leg : he has hurt his a little." 
 
 *^ How did he do it ? Is it the knee ? 
 Did he fall ? " was reiterated around. 
 
 ''It is nothing," interrupted Mr. Cleve- 
 land. " But we would not let him walk 
 home. And I came on to tell you, lest you 
 should be alarmed at seeing him brought 
 in." 
 
 ''Brought in!" echoed Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 ' ' How do you mean ? Who is bringing 
 him ? " 
 
 "Hardy and Farmer Lee. Left to him- 
 self, he might have been for running here, 
 leaping the ditches over the shortest cut ; so 
 we just made him lie down on a mattress, 
 and they are carrying it. Miss Judith sup- 
 plied us." 
 
 " Has he sprained his leg ? " 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 '* No," carelessly returned Mr. Cleveland. 
 ** He has managed to get a little shot into it; 
 but " 
 
 *' Shot ! " interrupted Mrs. Dalrymple, in a 
 frightened tone. ^'Sliot?" 
 
 "It is nothing, I assure you. A very 
 slight wound. He will be out with us in a 
 week again." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Cleveland!" she faintly cried. 
 " Is it serious ?" 
 
 " Serious ! " laughed the well-intentioned 
 clergyman. " My dear lady, don't you see 
 how merry I am ? The most serious part is 
 the leg of the trousers. Oscar, taking alarm, 
 like you, decapitated it at the knee. The 
 trousers will never be fit to wear again," 
 added Mr. Cleveland, with a grave face. 
 
 " We will turn them over to Eobert's stock," 
 said Selina. " I am sure, what with one 
 random action or another, half his clothes are 
 in ribands." 
 
 " How was it done ?" inquired Alice. 
 
 "An accident," slightingly replied Mr. 
 Cleveland. " One never does know too well 
 how such mishaps occur." 
 
THE SHOT. 35 
 
 *'We must send for a doctor," observed 
 Mrs. Dalrymple, ringing the bell. '^ How- 
 ever slight it may be, I shall not know how 
 to treat it.'' 
 
 ^* We thought of that, and Eobert is gone 
 for Forth,'' said the Eector as he turned away. 
 
 In the passage he met Eeuben, a staid, re- 
 spectable man servant who had been in the 
 family many years ; his healthy face was 
 ruddy as a summer apple, and his head, bald 
 on the top, was sprinkled with powder. Mr. 
 Cleveland told him what had happened ; he 
 then went to the back door, and stood there, 
 looking out — his hands in the pockets of his 
 Telveteen coat. Selina came quietly up ; she 
 was trembling. 
 
 '^ Mr. Cleveland," she whispered, ''is it 
 not worse than you have said ? I think you 
 have been purposely making light of it. Pray 
 tell me the truth. You know I am not 
 excitable : I leave that to x\lice." 
 
 " My dear, in one sense I made light of it, 
 because I wished to prevent unnecessary 
 alarm. But I assure you I do not fear it is 
 any serious hurt." 
 
36 CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 ** Was it papa's own gun that went off ? " 
 
 ^'No." 
 
 "Whose, then ?" 
 
 "Eobert's." 
 
 *' Oh ! — but I might have known it/' she 
 added, her shocked tone giving place to one 
 of anger. ''Eobert is guilty of carelessness 
 every day of his life — of wanton reckless- 
 ness." 
 
 '^Kobert is careless," acknowledged Mr. 
 Cleveland. '^ You know, my dear, it is said 
 to be a failing of the Dalrymples. But he 
 has a good heart ; and he is always so sorry 
 for his faults." 
 
 *^Yes, his life is made up of sinning and 
 repenting." 
 
 " Sinning ! " 
 
 ** I call such carelessness sin," maintained 
 Selina. '* To think he should have shot 
 papa ! " 
 
 *' My dear, you are looking at it in the 
 worst aspect. I believe it wdll prove but a 
 trifling injury. But, to see him borne here 
 on a mattress, minus the leg of his panta- 
 loons, and his own leg bandaged, might have 
 
THE SHOT. yj 
 
 frightened some of you into fits. You go 
 back to the oak parlour, Selina; and don't 
 let Alice run out of it at the first slight sound 
 she may chance to hear/' 
 
 Selina did as she was told : Mr. Cleveland 
 stayed where he was: Very soon he distin- 
 guished the steady tread of feet approach- 
 ing ; and at the same time he saw, to his 
 surprise, the gig of the surgeon turning off 
 from the road. How quick Eobert had 
 been ! 
 
 Quick indeed ! Eobert, as it proved, had 
 met the surgeon's gig, himself and Dr. Tyler 
 in it, a physician from the nearest town. 
 They had been together to a consultation. 
 Eobert, light and slim, had got into the gig 
 between them. He was now the first to get 
 out ; and he began rushing about like a mad- 
 man. The clergyman went forth and laid 
 hands upon him. 
 
 *' You will do more harm than you have 
 a,lready done, young sir, unless you can con- 
 trol yourself. Here have I been. at the pains 
 of impressing upon your mother and sisters 
 that it is nothing more than a flea-bite, and 
 
38 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 you are going to upset it all ! Be calm 
 before them, at any rate." 
 
 '' Oh, Mr. Cleveland ! You talk of calm- 
 ness ! Perhaps I have killed my father/' 
 
 '' I hope not. But I daresay a great deal 
 depends upon his being kept quiet and tran- 
 quil. Piemember that. If you cannot/' 
 added Mr. Cleveland, walking him forward a 
 few paces, " I will just march you over to the 
 Eectory, and keep you there until all fear of 
 danger is over." 
 
 Robert pulled his senses together with an 
 effort, ''I will be calm; I promise you^ 
 Repentance," he continued bitterly, ''will do 
 him no good, so I had better keep it to myself, 
 I wish I had shot off my own head first ! " 
 
 " There you begin again ! Will you be 
 quiet ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will. I'll go and stamp about 
 where nobody can see me, and get rid of 
 myself in that way." 
 
 He escaped from Mr. Cleveland, made his 
 way to the kitchen garden, and began strid- 
 ing about amid the autumn cabbages. Poor 
 Robert ! he really felt as though it would be 
 
THE SHOT. 39 
 
 a mercy if his head were off. He was good- 
 hearted, generous, and affectionate, but 
 thoughtless and impulsive. 
 
 As the gamekeeper w^as departing, after 
 helping to carry the mattress upstairs, he 
 caught sight of his young master's restless 
 movements, and went to him. 
 
 *' Ah, Mr. Robert, it's bad enough, but 
 racing about won't do no good. If you had 
 but let me draw that there charge ! Mr. 
 Cleveland's ideas is sure to be right : the 
 Earl's always w^as, afore him." 
 
 Piobert went on "racing" about worse 
 than before, clearing a dozen cabbages at a 
 stride. *^ How did my father bear the trans- 
 port home. Hardy ? " 
 
 " Pretty well. A bit faintish he got." 
 
 " Hardy, I will ne}jer touch a gun again." 
 
 " I don't suppose you will, Mr. Robert — 
 not till the next time. You may touch 'em, 
 sir, but you must be more careful of 'em." 
 
 Robert groaned. 
 
 " This is the second accident of just the 
 same sort that I have been in," continued 
 Hardy. " The other was at the Earl's, when 
 
40 CO UR T NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 I was a youngster. Not Mr. Cleveland's 
 father, you know, sir ; t'other Earl afore him, 
 over at t'other place. Two red-coat blades 
 had come down there for a week's sport, and 
 one of 'em (he seemed to us keepers as if he 
 had never handled a gun in all his born days) 
 got the shot into the other's calf — just as it 
 has been got this evening into the Squire's. 
 That was a worse accident, though, than this 
 will be, I hope. He w^as laid up at the inn, 
 close by where it happened, for six weeks, for 
 they thought it best not to carry him to the 
 Hall, and then " 
 
 ^' And then — did it terminate fatally?" 
 interrupted Eobert, scarcely above his breath. 
 
 " Law, no, sir ! At the end of the six 
 weeks he was on his legs, as strong as ever, 
 and went back to London — or wherever it 
 was he came from." 
 
 Eobert Dalrymple drew a relieved breath. 
 '' I shall go in and hear what the surgeons 
 say," said he, restlessly. "And you go 
 round to the kitchen, Hard}^ and tell them to 
 give you some tea ; or anything else you'd 
 like." 
 
THE SHOT. 41 
 
 Miss Lynn was in the oak parlour alone, 
 standing before the fire, when Eobert entered. 
 
 *' Oh, Eobert,'' she said, *' I wanted to 
 see you. Do you fear this will be very bad ? — 
 very serious ?" 
 
 *' I don't know," was the desponding 
 answer. 
 
 '* Whose gun was it that did the mischief?" 
 
 ^' Whose gun! Have you not heard?" 
 he broke forth, in a tone of fierce self-reproach. 
 '' Mine, of course. And if he dies, I shall 
 have murdered him." 
 
 Mary Lynn was used to Robert's heroics ; 
 but she looked terribly grieved now\ 
 
 *' I see what you think, Mary," he said, 
 being in the mood to view all things in a 
 gloomy light : '' that you will be better with- 
 out me than with me. Cancel our engage- 
 ment, if you will. I cannot say that I do 
 not deserve it." 
 
 "No, Eobert, I was not thinking of that," 
 she answered. Tears rose to her eyes, and 
 glistened in the fire-light. '^I was wonder- 
 ing whether I could say or do anything to 
 induce you to be less thoughtless ; less " 
 
42 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 "Less like a fool. Say it out, Mary." 
 
 "Yon are anything but that, and you 
 know it. Only you will act so much upon 
 impulse. You think, speak, move, and act 
 without the slightest deliberation or fore- 
 thought. It is all random impulse." 
 
 "Impulse could hardly have been at fault 
 here, Mary. It was a horrible accident, and 
 I shall deplore it to the last hour of my life." 
 
 " How did it happen ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell. I had been speaking with 
 Lee, gun in hand, and was turning short 
 round to catch up the others, when the gun 
 went off. Possibly the trigger caught my 
 coat sleeve — I cannot tell. Yes, that was 
 pure accident, Mary : but there's something 
 worse connected with it." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Mr. Cleveland had just before fired off 
 his gun because he would not bring it in- 
 doors, loaded. Hardy asked if he should 
 draw the charge from mine, and I answered 
 him, mockingly, that I could take good care 
 of it. Why did I not let him do it ?" added 
 the young man, beginning to stride the room 
 
THE SHOT. 43 
 
 in his remorse as lie had previously been 
 striding the bed of cabbages. *' What an 
 idiot I was ! — a wicked, self-sufficient imbe- 
 cile ! You had better give me up at once, 
 Mary." 
 
 She turned and glanced at him with a 
 smile. It brought him back to her side, and 
 he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked 
 into her eyes by the light of the fire. 
 
 '^ It maybe to your interest," he whispered 
 in agitation. " Some day I may be shooting 
 you, in one of my careless moods. What do 
 you say, Mary ?" 
 
 She said nothing. She only leaned slightly 
 forward and smiled. Robert threw his arms 
 around her, and strained her to him in all the 
 fervency of a first affection. ^'My darling, 
 my darling ! Mary, you are too good for me." 
 
 They were nice looking young people, both 
 of them, and in love with one another. 
 Eobert was three-and -twenty ; she only nine- 
 teen ; and the world looked fair before them. 
 But, that she was too good for him, was a 
 greater truth than Mr. Eobert thought. 
 
 Stir was heard in the house now; the 
 
44 CO C/R T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 medical men were coming downstairs. Their 
 report was favourable. The bleeding had 
 been stopped, the shots extracted, and there 
 was no appearance of danger. A little con- 
 finement, perfect quiet and proper treatment, 
 would, they hoped, soon set all to rights again. 
 
 Dinner had not been thought of. When 
 the cook had nearly succumbed to despair, 
 and Mr. Dalrymple had dropped into a calm 
 sleep, and the anxious ones were gathered 
 together in the oak parlour, Eeuben came in, 
 and said the soup was on the table. 
 
 ** Then I will wish you all a good appetite, 
 and bo gone," said the Kector to Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple. 
 
 *' Indeed you will not go without some 
 dinner." 
 
 "' I am in a pretty state for dinner," said 
 he, '^ and I can't worry Dalrymple over coats 
 now. Look at me." 
 
 "" Oh, Mr. Cleveland ! do you think we 
 shall regard your coat ! Is this a time to be 
 fastidious ? We are not much dressed our- 
 selves." 
 
 ^'No?" said the Eector, re:?arding them. 
 
THE SHOT. 45 
 
 ^' I am sure you all look well. You are not 
 in shooting jackets and gaiters and inch-thick 
 boots." 
 
 *' I am going to sit down as I am," inter- 
 rupted Kobert, who had not changed a thing 
 since he came in. ^' A fellow with a dreadful 
 care at his heart has not the pluck to put on 
 a dandy- cut coat." 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple ended the matter by taking 
 the Eector's arm and bearing him off to the 
 dining-room. The rest followed. Oscar met 
 them in the hall — dressed. He was a small, 
 spare man, cool and self-contained in all emer- 
 gencies, and fastidious in his habits, even to 
 the putting on of proper coats. His colourless 
 face was rather unpleasing at times, though its 
 features were good, the ej^es cold and light, 
 the drawn-in lips thin. Catching Selina's 
 hand, he took her in. 
 
 It was a lively dinner table, after all. Hope 
 had arisen in every heart, and Mr; Cleveland 
 was at his merriest. He had great faith in 
 cheerfal looks round a sick-bed, and he did 
 not want desponding ones to be displayed to 
 his friend, Dalrymple. 
 
46 CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 Before the meal was over, a carriage was 
 heard to approach the house. It contained 
 Miss Upton. The news of the accident had 
 spread ; it had reached Court Netherleigh ; 
 and Miss Upton got up from her own dinner 
 table and ordered her carriage. She came in, 
 all concern, penetrating to the midst of them 
 in her unceremonious way. 
 
 ''And the fault was Bohert's!" she ex- 
 claimed, after listening to the recital, as she 
 turned her condemning eyes upon the culprit. 
 *' I am sorry to hear tJiat," 
 
 ' ' You cannot blame me as I blame myself, 
 ' Miss Upton,'' he said, ingenuously, a moisture 
 dimming his sight. "I am always doing 
 wrong ; I know that. But this time it was 
 really an accident that might have happened 
 to anyone. Even to Oscar, with all his pru- 
 dence." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, young man ; you are 
 wrong there," returned Miss Upton. " Oscar 
 Dalrymple would have taken care to hold his 
 gun so that it could not go off unawares. Never 
 you fear that he wdll shoot anybody. I hope 
 and trust your father will get well, Eobert 
 
THE SHOT. 47 
 
 Dalrymple ; and I hope you will let this be a 
 lesson to you." 
 
 ^' I mean it to be one/' humbly answered 
 Kobert. 
 
 Miss Upton carried the three young ladies 
 back to Court Netherleigh, leaving Oscar and 
 Eobert to follow on foot : no reason why 
 they should not go, she answered, and it 
 would serve to keep the house quiet for its 
 master. 
 
 ^' Will it prove of serious consequence, this 
 hurt ? " she took an opportunity of asking 
 aside of Mr. Cleveland, as she was going out 
 to the carriage. 
 
 '^No, I hope not. I think not. It is only 
 a few stray shots in the leg.'' 
 
 ^^ I don't like those stray shots in the leg, 
 mind you," returned Miss Upton. 
 
 '^ Neither do I, in a general way," confessed 
 the Rector. 
 
 Thinking of this, thinking of that, Miss 
 Upton was silent during the drive home: But 
 it never did, or could, enter into her imagina- 
 tion to suppose that the fair girl, with the 
 sweet and thoughtful grey-blue eyes, sitting 
 
48 CO UR T NE THEN LEIGH. 
 
 opposite her — eyes that somehow did not seem 
 altogether unfamihar to her memory — was the 
 daughter of that friend of her girlhood, Cathe- 
 rine Grant. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 LEFT TO ROBERT. 
 
 rPHE eighth day after the accident to Mr. 
 Dahymple was a day of rejoicing, for he 
 was so far recovered as to be up for some 
 hours. A sofa was drawn before the fire, and 
 he lay on it. The symptoms had all along 
 been favourable, and he now merrily told them 
 that if anybody had written to order him a 
 cork leg, he thought it might be counter- 
 manded. Mr. Cleveland, a frequent visitor, 
 privately decided that the thanksgiving for his 
 recovery might be offered up in church on the 
 following Sunday — such being the custom in 
 the good and simple place. They all rejoiced 
 with him, paying visits to his chamber by 
 turns. Alice and Miss Lynn had been in 
 together during the afternoon : when they 
 were leaving, he beckoned the latter back, 
 but Alice did not notice, and went limping 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 COURT NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 away. Any great trouble affected Alice Dal- 
 rymple's spirits sadly, and her lameness would 
 then be more conspicuous. 
 
 *^Do you want me to do anything for 
 you ? " asked Mary, returning, and bending 
 over the sofa. 
 
 *' Yes/' said Mr. Dalrymple, taking posses- 
 sion of both her hands, and looking up with 
 an arch smile, " I want j^ou to tell me what 
 the secret is between you and that graceless 
 Robert." 
 
 Mary Lynn's eyes drooped, and her face 
 grew scarlet. She was unable to speak. 
 
 " Won't you tell me ?" repeated Mr. Dal- 
 rymple. 
 
 *' Has he been — saying anything to you, 
 sir ? " she faltered. 
 
 *' Not he. Not a word. Somebody else 
 told me they saw he and Miss Lynn had a 
 secret between them, which might possibly 
 bear results some day." 
 
 She burst into tears, got one of her hands 
 free, and held it before her face. 
 
 ''Nay, my dear," he kindly said, "I did 
 not wish to make you uncomfortable ; quite 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 51 
 
 the contrary. I want just to say one thing, 
 child : that if you and he are wishing to talk 
 secrets to one another, I and my wife will not 
 say nay to it : and from a word your mother 
 dropped to me the last time I was in town, I 
 don't think she would, either. Dry up your 
 tears, Mary ; it is a laughing matter, not a 
 crying one. Eobert is frightfully random at 
 times, but he is good as gold at heart. I in- 
 vite you and him to drink tea with me this 
 evening. There." 
 
 Mary escaped, half smiles, half tears. And 
 she and Eobert had tea with Mr. Dalrymple 
 that evening. He took it early since his ill- 
 ness ; six o'clock. Mary made the tea, and 
 he waited on his father, who was then in bed. 
 When the tea was cleared away, Mary went 
 with it ; Eobert remained. 
 
 *' This might have been an unlucky shot, 
 Charley," Mr. Dalrymple suddenly observed. 
 
 ^' Oh, father ! do not talk about it. I am 
 so thankful ! " 
 
 ^' But I am going to talk about it. To tell 
 you why it would have been so unlucky, had 
 it turned out differently. This accident has 
 
D- 
 
 2 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 made me remember the uncertainty of life, if 
 I never remembered it before. Put the candles 
 off the table ; I don't like them right in my 
 eyes ; and bring a chair here to the bedside. 
 Get the lotion before you sit down." 
 
 Eobert did what was required, and took his 
 seat. 
 
 ^' When I married, Eobert, I was only the 
 second brother, and no settlement was made 
 on your mother: I had nothing to settle: 
 The post I had in London in what you 
 young people are now pleased to call the red- 
 tape office, brought me in six hundred a year, 
 and we married on that, to rub on as we best 
 could. And I daresay we should have rubbed 
 on very well," added Mr. Dalrymple, in a sort 
 of parenthesis, "for our desires were simple, 
 and we were not likely to go beyond our 
 income. However, when you were about two 
 years old, Moat Grange fell to me, through 
 the death of my elder brother." 
 
 **What was the cause of his death?" in- 
 terrupted Eobert. " He must have been a 
 young man." 
 
 " Eight-and-twenty only. It was young. 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT, 53 
 
 I gave up my post in town, and we came to 
 Moat Grange " 
 
 *^But what did Uncle Claude die of?" 
 asked Eobert again. '* I don't remember to 
 have heard." 
 
 '^ Never mind what. It was an unhappy 
 death, and we have not cared to speak of it. 
 Moat Grange is worth about two thousand a 
 year : and we have been doing wrong, in one 
 respect, ever since we came to it, for we have 
 put nothing by." 
 
 '* Why should you have put by, father ? " 
 
 *^ There ! That is an exemplification of 
 your random w^ay of speaking and thinking. 
 Moat Grange is entailed upon you, every shil- 
 ling of it." 
 
 '' Well, it will be enough for me — with what 
 I have," said Robert. 
 
 *' I hope it will. But it would have been 
 anything but well had I died ; for, in that 
 case your mother and sisters would have been 
 beggars." 
 
 '^ Oh, father! " 
 
 '* Yes ; all would have lapsed to you. Let 
 me go on. Claude Dalrymple left many debts 
 
54 CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 behind liim, some of them cruel ones — per- 
 sonal ones — we will not enter into that. I — 
 moved by a chivalrous feeling perhaps, but 
 which I and your mother have never repented 
 of — took those personal debts upon me, and 
 paid them off by degrees/' 
 
 '* I should have done the same," cried im- 
 pulsive Eobert. 
 
 ** And the estate had of course to be kept 
 up, for I would not have had it said that Moat 
 Grange suffered by its change of owners, and 
 your mother thought with me ; so that alto- 
 gether we had a struggle for it, and were 
 positively less at our ease for ready money 
 here than we had been in our little house- 
 hold in London. When the debts were 
 cleared off, and we had breathing time, I 
 began to think of saving : but I am sorry to 
 say it was only thought of; not done. The 
 cost of educating you children increased as 
 you grew older ; Alice's illness came on and 
 was a great and continued expense ; and, 
 what with one thing and another, we never 
 did, or have, put by. Your expenses at 
 college were enormous." 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 55 
 
 '* Were they," returned Eobert, indif- 
 ferently. 
 
 '^Were they!" echoed Mr. Dah-ymple, 
 almost in a sharp tone. "Do you forget 
 that you also ran into debt there, like your 
 Uncle Claude ? " , 
 
 '^Not much, was it, sir?" cried Eobert 
 deprecatingly, who remembered very little 
 about the matter, beyond the fact that the 
 bills had gone in to Moat Grange. 
 
 "Pretty well," returned Mr. Dalrymple, 
 with a cough. '' The sum total averaged 
 between six and seven hundred a year, for 
 every year that you were there." 
 
 *' Surely not ! " uttered Eobert, stai-tled to 
 contrition. 
 
 '' It seems to have made but little impres- 
 sion on you ; you knew it at the time. But 
 I am not recalling this to cast reproach on 
 you now, Eobert : I only wanted to explain 
 how it is that we have been unable to put 
 by. Not a day after I am well will I delay 
 beginning it. We will curtail our expenses, 
 even in things hitherto considered necessary, 
 no matter what the neighbourhood may think; 
 
56 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 and I shall probably insure my life. Your 
 mother and I were talking of this all day 
 yesterday." 
 
 ''I can do with less than I spend, father; 
 I will make the half of it do/' said Robert, in 
 one of his fits of impulse. 
 
 "We shall see that," said Mr. Dalrymple, 
 with another cough. "But you do not know 
 the trouble this has been to me since the 
 accident, Robert. I have lain here, and dwelt 
 incessantly upon the helpless condition of your 
 mother and sisters — left helpless on your 
 hands — should I be called away." 
 
 " My dear father, it need not trouble you. 
 Do you suppose I should ever wish to disturb 
 my mother and sisters in the possession of 
 their home ? What do you take me for ?" 
 
 "Ah, Robert, these generous resolves are 
 easily made ; but circumstances more often 
 than not mar them. You will be wanting a 
 home of your own — and a wife." 
 
 Robert's face took a very conscious look. 
 " Time enough for that, sir." 
 
 " If you and Mary Lynn can both think 
 so." 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 57 
 
 '' You — don't — object to her, do you, sir ? "" 
 came the deprecating question. 
 
 *'No, indeed I don't object to her : except 
 on one score," replied Mr. Dah-ymple. '* That 
 she is too good for you." 
 
 Eobert laughed. " I told her that myself, 
 and asked her to give me up. It was the 
 night of the accident, when I was so truly 
 miserable." 
 
 " Well, Eobert, you could not have chosen 
 a better girl than Mary L^^nn. She will have 
 money " 
 
 '' I'm sure I've not thought whether she 
 will or not," interrupted Robert, quite indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " Of course not ; I should be surprised if 
 you had," said Mr. Dalrymple, in the satirical 
 tone his son disliked. " Common-place ways 
 and means, pounds, shillings, and pence, are 
 beneath the exalted consideration of young 
 Mr. Dalrymple. I should not wonder but 
 you would set up to live upon air to-morrow, 
 if you had nothing else to live upon." 
 
 *' Well, father, you know what I meant — 
 that I am not mercenary." 
 
58 . COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 '' I should be sorry if you were. But when 
 we contemplate the prospect of a separate 
 household, it is sometimes necessary to consider 
 how its bread-and-cheese will be provided/' 
 
 "I have the two hundred a year that my 
 own property brings in — that Aunt Cecily left 
 me. There's that to begin with." 
 
 " And I will allow you three or four hun- 
 dred more ; Mary will bring something and 
 be well-off later. Yes, Eobert, I think you 
 may set up your tent if you will; I like 
 young men to marry young. I did myself — 
 at three-and-twenty : your present age. Your 
 Uncle Claude did not, and ran into folly. And, 
 Eobert, I should advise you to begin and read 
 for the Bar. Better have a profession." 
 
 '* I did begin, you know, father." 
 
 '^ And came down here when you were ill 
 with that fever, and never went up again. 
 Moat Grange will be yours eventually " 
 
 "Not for these twenty years, I hope, father," 
 impulsively interrupted Eobert. "You are 
 spared to us, and I can never be sufficiently 
 thankful for it. Why, in twenty years you 
 would not be an old man ; not seventy." 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 59 
 
 '' I am thankful, too, Eobert; thankful that 
 my life is not cut off in its midst — as it might 
 have been. The future of your mother and 
 sisters has been a thorn in my side since I 
 was brought face to face with death. In 
 health we are apt to be fearfully careless." 
 
 '^Hear me, father," cried Eobert, rising, 
 and speaking with emotion. " Had the worst 
 happened, they should have been my first 
 care : I declare it to you. First and foremost, 
 even before Mary Lynn." 
 
 ''My boy, I know your heart. Are you 
 going down ? That's right. I think I have 
 talked enough. Bring a light here first. My 
 leg is very uneasy." 
 
 " Does it pain you," inquired Eobert, who 
 had noticed that his father was getting restless, 
 " How tight the bandage is ! The leg appears 
 to be swollen." 
 
 " The effect of the bandage being tight," 
 remarked Mr. Dalrymple. "Loosen it, and 
 put plenty of lotion on." 
 
 " It feels very hot," were Eobert's last 
 words. 
 
 The evening went on. Just before bed 
 
6o CO UR T NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 time, the young people were all sitting round 
 the fire in the oak parlour, Mrs. Dalrymple 
 being with her husband. So assured did they 
 now feel of no ill results ensuing, that they 
 had got to speak lightly of it. Not of the acci- 
 dent : none would have been capable of that : 
 but of the circumstances attending it. Se- 
 lina had just been recommending Robert never 
 in future to touch any weapon stronger than 
 a popgun." 
 
 ** I don't mean to," said Robert. 
 
 ' ' What a long conference you had with 
 papa to-night after Mary came down," went 
 on Selina. ''What was it about, Robert? 
 Were you getting a lesson how to carry loaded 
 
 guns i 
 
 9'^ 
 
 ''Not that," put in Oscar Dalrymple: 
 " Robert has learnt that lesson by heart. He 
 was getting some hints how to manage Moat 
 Grange." 
 
 Robert looked up quickly, almost believing 
 Oscar must have been behind the chamber wall. 
 
 "Your father has come so very near to 
 losing it," added Oscar. " A chance like that 
 brings reflection." 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 6i 
 
 *' Only to think of it!" breathed Alice — 
 *^ that we have been so near losing the Grange ! 
 If dear papa had died it would have come to 
 Eobert." 
 
 '* Ay, all Eobert's ; neither yours nor your 
 mother's," mused Oscar. *^ I daresay the 
 thought has worried Mr. Dalrymple." 
 
 '* I know it has," said Eobert, in his hasty 
 way. " But there was no occasion for it." 
 
 *' No, thank Heaven ! " breathed Selina. 
 
 ^' However things had turned out, my father 
 might have been easy on that score. And 
 we were talking of you," added Eobert, in a 
 whisper to Mary Lynn, while making believe 
 to regard attentively the sofa cushion at her 
 ear. ^^And of setting up our tent, Mary ; 
 and of ways and means — and I am to go on 
 reading for the Bar. It all looks couleur de 
 rose." 
 
 "Eobert," returned Alice, ''should you 
 have sent us adrift, had you come into the 
 old homestead ? " 
 
 "To be sure I should, in double-quick 
 time," answered he, tilting Alice's chair back 
 to kiss her, and keeping it in that position. 
 
62 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 " ' Sharp the word and quick the motion ' it 
 would have been with me then. I should 
 have iDaid a premium with you both, and 
 shipped you off by an emigrant ship to some 
 old Turkish Sultan who buys wives, so that 
 you might never trouble me or the Grange 
 again." 
 
 *^ And mamma, Eobert ? " 
 
 *^ Oh, mamma — I miglit, perhaps, have al- 
 lowed her to stop here," conceded Eobert, 
 with a mock serious face. ^' On condition that 
 she acted as my housekeeper." 
 
 They all laughed : they were secure in the 
 love of Eobert. In the midst of which, the 
 young man felt somebody touch his shoulder. 
 It was Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 
 ''Dearest mamma," said he, letting Alice 
 and her chair go forward to their natural 
 position, and stepping backwards, laughing 
 still. "Did you hear what we were saying?" 
 
 " Yes, Eobert, I heard it," she sighed. 
 " Have you a mind for a drive to-night ? " 
 
 ''A drivel" exclaimed Eobert. " To find 
 the emigrant ship ? '' 
 
 ''I have told James to o-et the gig ready. 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 63 
 
 He can go, if you do not, but I thought you 
 might be the quicker driver. It is to bring 
 Mr. Forth. Some change for the worse has 
 taken place in your father." 
 
 All their mirth was fors^otten instantly. 
 They sat speechless. 
 
 '* He complained, just now, of the bandage 
 being too tight, and said Robert had pretended 
 to loosen it, but must have only fancied that 
 he did so," continued Mrs. Dalrymple, speak- 
 ing to them generally. "It is much inflamed 
 and swollen, and he cannot bear the pain. I 
 fear," she added, sitting down and bursting 
 into tears, " that we have reckoned on his 
 recovery too soon — that it is far ofl" yet." 
 
 Eobert flew on the wings of the wind, and 
 soon brought back Mr. Forth. Mrs. Dalrymple 
 and Oscar went with the surgeon to the sick 
 chamber. Uncovering the leg, he held the 
 wax light close to examine it. One look, and 
 he glanced up with a too expressive face. 
 
 Oscar, always observant, noticed it; nobody 
 else. Mrs. Dalrymple asked the cause of the 
 change, the sudden heat and pain. 
 
 *' It is a change — that — does — sometimes 
 
64 CO URT NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 come on," drawled Mr. Forth; who of course, 
 as a medical man, would have protested 
 against danger had he known his patient was 
 going to drop out of his hands the next 
 moment but one. 
 
 "That redness about it," said Mr. Dalrymple, 
 
 *^ that's new\" 
 
 *'A touch of erysipelas," remarked the 
 
 surgeon. 
 
 His manner soothed them, and the vague 
 feeling of alarm subsided. None of them 
 looked to the worst side — and a day or two 
 passed on. Dr. Tyler came again now as well 
 as Mr. Forth. 
 
 One morning when the doctors were driving 
 out of the stable-yard — that way was more 
 convenient to the high road than the front 
 entrance — they met Mr. Cleveland. Mr. Forth 
 pulled up, and the Eector leaned on the gig 
 while he talked to them, one hand on the 
 wing, the other on the dash-board. 
 
 " How is he this morning ? " 
 
 "We were speaking of you, sir," replied 
 Mr. Forth: "saying that you, as Mr. 
 Dalrymple's chief friend, w^ould be the best to 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 65 
 
 break tlie news to the Grange. There is no 
 hope." 
 
 ^' No hope of his life?" 
 
 '' None. A clay or two must terminate it/' 
 
 Mr. Cleveland was inexpressibly shocked. 
 He could not at first speak. '^ This is very 
 sudden, gentlemen." 
 
 ** Not particularly so. At least, not to 
 us. We have done all in our power, but it 
 has mastered us. Will you break it to 
 him ? " 
 
 '' Yes," he answered, quitting them. '^ It 
 is a hard task ; but somebody must do it." 
 And he went straight to Mr. Dalrymple. 
 
 In the evening, Eobert, who had been aw^ay 
 all day on some matter of business, returned. 
 As he went to his father's room to report 
 what he had done, his mother came out of it. 
 She had her handkerchief to her face : Eobert 
 supposed she was afraid of draughts. He 
 approached the bed. 
 
 Mr. Dalrymple, looking flushed and restless, 
 took Robert's hand and held it in his. ^* Have 
 they told you the news, my boy ? " 
 
 '' No," answered Eobert, never suspecting 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the true meaning of the words. "Is there 
 
 any?" 
 
 Robert Dahymple the elder gazed at him ; 
 a yearning gaze. And an uneasy sensation 
 stole over his son; 
 
 •' I am going to leave you, Eobert." 
 
 He understood, and sank down by the side 
 of the bed. It was as if a thunderbolt had 
 struck him : and one that would leave its 
 trace throughout life. 
 
 " Father ! It cannot be ! " 
 
 " In a day or two, Robert. That is all of 
 time they can promise me now." 
 
 He cried out with a low, wailing cry, and 
 let his head drop on the counterpane beside 
 his father. 
 
 " You must not take it too much to heart, 
 my son. Remember : that is one of my 
 dying inj unctions . ' ' 
 
 "I wish I could die for you, father ! " he 
 passionately uttered. " I shall never forgive 
 myself.'' 
 
 '^ I forgive you heartily and freely, Robert. 
 My boy, see you not that this must be God's 
 good will. I could die in peace but for the 
 
LEFT TO ROBERT. 67 
 
 thought of your mother and sisLers. I can 
 but leave them to you : will you take care of 
 and cherish them ? " 
 
 He lifted his head, speaking eagerly. ^^ I 
 will, I will. They shall be my only care. 
 Father, this shall ever be their home. I 
 swear " 
 
 '^Be silent, Robert!" interrupted Mr. 
 Dalrymple, his voice raised in emotion. 
 ^* How dare you ? Never taJce a rash oath," 
 
 " I mean to fulfil it, father; just as though 
 I had taken it. This shall ever be my 
 mother's home. But, oh, to lose you thus ! 
 My father, say once more that you do forgive 
 me. Oh, father, forgive and bless me before 
 you die ! " 
 
 Death came, all too surely ; and the neigh- 
 bourhood, struck with consternation, grieved 
 sincerely for Mr. Dalrymple. 
 
 ^' If Mr. Robert had but let me draw that 
 charge from his gun, the Squire would have 
 been here now," bewailed Hardy, the game- 
 keeper. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 
 
 TT was a magnificent room, everything mag- 
 nificent about it, as it was fitting the 
 library of Chenevix House should be : a fine 
 mansion overlooking Hyde Park. What good 
 is there to be imagined — worldly good — that 
 fortune, so capricious in her favours, had not 
 showered down upon the owner of this house, 
 the Earl of Acorn ? None. With his majority 
 he had come into a princely income, for his 
 father, the late earl, died years before, and 
 the estates had been well nursed. Better had 
 it been, though, for the young Earl of Acorn 
 that he had been born a younger son, or in an 
 inferior rank of life. With that spur to exer- 
 tion, necessity, he would have pushed on and 
 exercised the talents which had been liberally 
 bestowed on him ; but gliding as he did into 
 a fortune that seemed unlimited, he plunged 
 
A T CHENE VI X HO USE. 69 
 
 into every extravagant folly of the day, and 
 did his best to dissipate it. He was twenty- 
 one then; he is walking about his library 
 now — you may see him if you choose to enter 
 it — with four or five and thirty years added 
 to his life : pacing up and down in perplexity, 
 and possessing scarcely a shilling that he can 
 call his own. His six-and-fifty years have 
 rendered his slender figure somewhat portly, 
 and an expression of annoyance is casting its 
 shade on his clear brow and handsome fea- 
 tures ; but no deeper hues of sorrow are 
 marked there. Not upon these careless 
 natures does the hand of care leave its sign. 
 
 But the Earl is — to make the best of it — 
 in a brown study, and he scowls his eye- 
 brows, and purses his Hps, and motions with 
 his hands as he paces there, communing with 
 himself. Not that he is so much perplexed 
 as to how he shall escape his already great 
 embarrassments, as he is to contrive the 
 means to raise more money to rush into 
 greater. The gratification of the present mo- 
 ment — little else ever troubled Lord Acorn. 
 
 A noise of a cab in the street, as it whirls 
 
^o COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 along, and pulls up before the steps and the 
 stately pillars of Chenevix House ; a knock 
 and a ring that send their echoes through the 
 mansion ; and the Earl strides forward and 
 looks cautiously from the window, so as to 
 catch a glimpse of the horse and vehicle. It 
 was but a glimpse, for the window was high 
 from the ground, its embrasures deep, and 
 the cab close to the pavement ; and, for a 
 moment, he could not decide whether it be- 
 longed to friend or foe ; but soon he drew 
 away with an ugly word, crossed the room to 
 unlatch the door, and stood with his ear at 
 the opening. What ! a peer condescend to 
 play eavesdropper, in an attitude that befits a 
 mean man ? Yes : and a prince has done the 
 same, when in bodily fear of duns. 
 
 A few minutes elapse. The indistinct sound 
 of contention approaches his lordship's ear, 
 in conjunction with a very uncomfortable 
 stream of wdnd, and then the house door 
 closes wdth a bang, the cab whirls off again, 
 and the Earl rings the library bell. 
 
 " Jenkins, who was it ?" 
 
 *'That impudent Salmon again, my lord. 
 
A T CHENE VI X HO USE. 7 1 
 
 I said you were out, and he vowed you were 
 in. I believe he would have pushed his way 
 up here, but John and the porter stood by 
 and I daresay he thought we three should be 
 a match for him/' 
 
 " Insolent ! " muttered his lordship. '' Has 
 Mr. Grubb been here ?'' 
 
 ''No, my lord." 
 
 '' What can detain him ?" spoke the Earl 
 to himself, irascibly. '* I begged him to 
 come to-day. Mind you are in the hall 
 yourself, Jenkins ; you know whom to admit 
 and whom not to admit." 
 
 ''All right, my lord." And the butler, 
 who had lived with the Earl many years, and 
 was a confidential servant devoted to his 
 master's interests, closed the library door and 
 descended. 
 
 It was not until evening that Mr. Grubb 
 came, and was shown into the library. Do 
 not be prejudiced against him on account of 
 his name, reader, but pay attention to him, 
 for he is worthy of it, and he plays a promi- 
 nent part in this little history. He is thirty 
 years of age, a tall, slender, noble -looking 
 
72 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 man, with intellect stamped on his ample 
 forehead, and good feeling pervading his 
 countenance. It is a very refined face, and 
 its grey-blue eyes are simply beautiful. He 
 is the son of that city merchant, Christopher 
 Grubb, who married Catherine Grant. Chris- 
 topher Grubb has been dead many years, and 
 the son, Francis Charles Christopher, is the 
 head of the house now, and the only one of 
 the name living. 
 
 His acquaintanceship with Lord Acorn had 
 commenced in this way. When that noble- 
 man's only son, Viscount Denne, was at 
 Christchurch, Francis Grubb was also there ; 
 and they became as intimate as two under- 
 graduates of totally opposite pursuits and 
 tastes can become. Lord Denne was wild, 
 careless, and extravagant ; more of a spend- 
 thrift (and that's saying a good deal) than 
 his father had been before him. He got 
 into debt and difficulty ; and Mr. Grubb, 
 with his ample means, over and over again 
 got him out of it. During their last term, 
 when young Denne was in a maze of per- 
 plexity, and more deeply indebted to his 
 
A 7 CHENE VI X HO USE. 7 3 
 
 friend tlian lie cared to count, the accident 
 happened which deprived him of life. A 
 mad race with another Oxonian, each of them 
 in his own stylish curricle, the fashionable 
 bachelor carriage of the day, resulted in the 
 overturning of both vehicles, and in the fatal 
 injury of Lord Denne. During the three 
 days that he hngered Mr. Grubb never left 
 him. Lord Acorn was summoned from 
 London, but Lady Acorn and her daughters 
 were abroad. The young man told his father 
 how much money he owed to Francis Grubb, 
 begging that it might be repaid, and the Earl 
 promised it should be. The death of this, 
 his only son, was a terrible blow to him : he 
 would have been nine-and-twenty this year. 
 
 For this happened some nine or ten years 
 ago ; and during all that time Mr. Grubb had 
 not been repaid. 
 
 Kepaid ! The debt had been only added 
 to. For the Earl had borrowed money on 
 his own score, and increased it with a ven- 
 geance. He had borrowed it upon the 
 strength of some property that he was ex- 
 pecting yearly to fall to him through the 
 
74 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 death of an uncle : and Mr. Grubb, strictly 
 liononrable himself, had trusted to the Earl's 
 promises. The iDro^Derty, however, had at 
 length fallen in ; had fallen in a year ago ; 
 and Mr. Grubb had not been rejmid one shil- 
 ling. While Lord Acorn was still saying to 
 him, I shall have the money to-morrow, or, I 
 shall have it the next day, Mr. Grubb found 
 out that he had had it months before, and had 
 used it in repaying more pressing creditors. 
 Francis Grubb did not like it. 
 
 ''Ah, Grubb, how are you?" cried Lord 
 Acorn, -grasping his hand cordially. "I thought 
 you were never coming." 
 
 " It is foreign post night ; I could not get 
 away earlier," was Mr. Grubb's answ^er, his 
 voice a singularly pleasant one. 
 
 '' Look here, Grubb: I am hard up, cleared 
 out down to the last gasp, and money I must 
 have," began his lordship, as he paced the 
 carpet restlessly. '* I want you to advance 
 me a little more." 
 
 " Not another farthing," spoke Mr. Grubb, 
 in a decisive tone. *' It has come to my 
 knowledge, Lord Acorn, that you received the 
 
A T CHENE VI X HO USE. 7 5 
 
 proceeds of your uncle's property long ago — 
 and that you have spent them." 
 
 Eemembering the deceit he had been prac- 
 tising, his lordship had the grace to feel 
 ashamed of himself. His brow flushed. 
 ' "I could not help it, Grubb ; I could not 
 indeed. I did not like to tell you, and I have 
 had the deuce's own trouble to keep my head 
 above water." 
 
 " I am very sorry ; very," said the mer- 
 chant. " Had you dealt fairly and honourably 
 with me, Lord Acorn, I would always have 
 returned it in kind ; always. Had you said 
 to me, I have got that money at last, but I 
 cannot let you have it, for it must go else- 
 where, I should never have pressed you. I 
 must press now." 
 
 '' Rubbish ! " cried the Earl, secure in the 
 other's long-extended good feeling. '' You 
 will do nothing of the kind, I know, Grubb. 
 You have a good hold yet on the Netherleigh 
 estate. That must come to me." 
 
 ^' Not so sure. Lord Acorn, I must have 
 my money repaid." 
 
 ^' Then you can't have it. And I want 
 
76 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 you to let nie have two thousand pounds more. 
 As true as that we are living, Grubb, if I 
 don't get that in the course of a few hours, 
 I shall be in Queer Street/' 
 
 *'Lord Acorn, I will not do it; and I will 
 do the other. You should have dealt openly 
 with me." 
 
 *^Did you ever get blood from a stone ? " 
 asked the Earl : and the careless apathy of 
 his manner contrasted strongly with the 
 earnestness of Mr. Grubb's. "There's no 
 chance of your getting the money back till 
 I am under here," stamping his foot on the 
 ground, " and you know it : unless the Nether- 
 leigh estate falls in. I speak freely to you, 
 Grubb, presuming on our long friendship. 
 Come, don't turn crusty at last. You don't 
 want the money ; you are as rich as Croesus, 
 and you must wait. I wish my son had lived; 
 we would have cut off the entail." 
 
 *' The debt must be liquidated," returned 
 Mr. Grubb, after a pause of regret, given to 
 poor Lord Denne. And he spoke so coldly 
 and determinedly that Lord Acorn wheeled 
 sharply round in his walk, and looked at him. 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 77 
 
 *' I don't know how the dickens it will be 
 done, then. I suppose you won't proceed to 
 harsh measures, and bring a hornet's nest 
 about my headc" 
 
 They faced one another, and a silence en- 
 sued. For once in his careless life, the good- 
 looking face of Lord Acorn was troubled. 
 
 ** There is one way in which your lordship 
 can repay the debt," resumed Mr. Grubb. 
 '* And it will not cost you money.'' 
 
 *^Ah!" laughed the Earl, ^Miow's that? 
 If you mean by post obit bonds, I'll sign a 
 cart-load, if you like." 
 
 Mr. Grubb approached the Earl in a sort of 
 nervous agitation. '' Give me your vouno-est 
 daughter, Lord Acorn," he breathed. " Let 
 me woo and win her ! I will take her in 
 lieu of all." 
 
 His lordship was considerably startled; the 
 proud Chenevix blood rose, and dyed his 
 forehead crimson. He had not been listen- 
 ing particularly, and he doubted whotlier he 
 heard aright. In one respect he had not, for 
 he thought the words had been your eldest 
 daughter. Against Francis Grubb personally, 
 
78 COURT NE THERLEIGH. 
 
 nothing could be said ; but against his stand- 
 ing a great deal. Many years had gone by 
 since Catherine Grant lost caste by marrying 
 a **City man/' but opinions had not changed, 
 for it was yet long antecedent to these tolerant 
 days. Men in trade, no matter how high the 
 class of trade, were still kept at a distance by 
 the upper orders — not looked upon as being 
 of the same race. 
 
 Therefore the demand was like a blow to 
 Lord Acorn ; and he dared not resent it as 
 he would have liked to. Hh daughter de- 
 scend from her own rank, and become one 
 with this trader ! Was the world coming to 
 an end ? 
 
 But as the two men stood gazing at one 
 another, neither of them speaking, the Earl 
 began to revolve in his mind the pros of the 
 matter, as well as the cons. Lady Grace was 
 no longer young ; she was growing thin and 
 rather cross, for she had been before the world 
 ten years, with no result. Would it be so bad 
 a match for her ? 
 
 '* I will settle an ample income upon her,'' 
 spoke Mr. Grubb. " And your unpaid bonds 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 79 
 
 — there are many of them, my lord — I will 
 return into your hands : all of them. Thus 
 your debt to me will be cancelled, and, so far 
 as I am concerned, you are a free man again." 
 
 '' I cannot be that. I am at my wits' end 
 now for two thousand pounds. " 
 
 " You shall have that." 
 
 '' Egad, Grubb's a generous fellow^ ! " cogi- 
 tated the Earl, '' and it will be a famous 
 thing for Grace : if she can only think so. 
 Have you ever spoken to Grace of this," he 
 asked, aloud. 
 
 '' To Lady Grace ? No." 
 
 '' Do you think Grace likes you," continued 
 Lord Acorn, remembering how attractive a 
 man the merchant was. ^' Do you think she 
 will accept you ? " 
 
 ** I am not speaking of Lady Grace." 
 
 '' No ! " repeated the Earl, opening his eyes 
 wider than usual. '' Which of them is it, 
 then ? " 
 
 "LadyAdela." 
 
 If Lord Acorn had been startled when he 
 thought the object of this proposal was Grace, 
 he was considerably more startled now. Adela ! 
 
8o COURT AETHERLEIGH. 
 
 young, beautiful, and haughty ! — she would 
 never have him. His first impulse was to 
 indignantly reject the proposition ; his second 
 thought was, that he was trammelled and dared 
 not. 
 
 *' I cannot force Adela's inclinations," he 
 said, after an awkward pause. 
 
 " Neither would I take a wife whose incli- 
 nations require to he forced," returned Mr. 
 Grubb. ^^ Pray understand that." 
 
 '^ My lord," cried a servant, entering the 
 library, " her ladyship wishes to know how 
 much longer she is to wait dinner ? " 
 
 " Dinner ! " exclaimed the Earl. ^' By Jove ! 
 I did not know it was so late. Grubb, will 
 you join us, sans ceremonie ? " 
 
 It was not the first time, by many, Mr. 
 Grubb had dined there. He followed the Earl 
 into the drawing-room. Lady Acorn was in 
 it, a little woman, all fire and impatience ; 
 especially just now, for if one thing put her 
 out more than another, it was that of being 
 kept waiting for her meals. The five 
 daughters were there : they need not be de- 
 scribed. Grace, little and plain, but never- 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 8i 
 
 theless with a nice face, and eight -and-twenty, 
 was the eldest ; Adela, whom you have ah-eady 
 seen, twenty now, and a very flower of beauty, 
 was the youngest. Four daughters were be- 
 tween them. Sarah, next to Grace, and one 
 year younger ; she had married Major Hope, 
 and was in India ; Mary, Harriet, and 
 Frances ; Adela coming last. Not a whit 
 less beautiful was she than when we saw her 
 a year ago at Court Netherleigh. 
 
 *' Here's the grub again,'' whispered Har- 
 riet, for the girls were given to be flippant 
 amongst themselves. Not that they disliked 
 Mr. Grubb personally, or wished to cast de- 
 rision on him, but they made a standing joke 
 of his name. He w^as in trade — and all such 
 people they had been taught to hold in con- 
 tempt. The house, " Christopher Grubb and 
 Son," was situated somewhere in the City, they 
 believed : it did business with India, and the 
 colonies, and ever so many more places ; 
 though what the precise business was the 
 young ladies did not pretend to understand ; 
 but they did know that it was second to few 
 houses in wealth, and that their father was 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 a pretty considerable debtor to it. While 
 liking Mr. Grubb personally very well indeed, 
 they yet held him to be of a totally different 
 order from themselves. 
 
 *' Dinner at once," cried the Countess, im- 
 patiently, to the butler. " Of course it's all 
 cold," she sharply added, for the especial 
 benefit of her husband. 
 
 Mr. Grubb went to the upper end of the 
 room after greeting the Countess, and was 
 speaking with the young ladies there ; Lord 
 Acorn bent over the back of his wife's chair, 
 and began to whisper to her. 
 
 "Betsy, here's the strangest thing ! Grubb 
 wants to marry one of the girls." 
 
 " Absurd ! " responded the wrathful little 
 woman. 
 
 " So it does appear, at the first blush. But 
 when we come to look at the advantages — 
 now do listen reasonably for a moment," he 
 broke off, ' ' you are as much interested in 
 this as I am. He will settle hundreds of 
 thousands upon her, and cancel all my debts 
 to him besides." 
 
 " Did he say so ? " quickly cried the Coun- 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE, %i 
 
 tess, putting off her anger to a less interested 
 moment. 
 
 " He did," replied the Earl, forgetting that 
 he had improvised the hundreds of thou- 
 sands. '• x\nd in addition to putting me 
 straight, he will give me a handsome sum 
 down. You shall have five hundred pounds 
 of it for that importunate milliner woman, 
 Damereau, which will enable you all to get 
 a new rig- out," concluded the wily man, con- 
 scious that if his self-willed better-half set 
 her temper against the match, the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury himself could never tie it into 
 one. 
 
 '* Which of them does he want ? " inquired 
 the Countess, snappishly, as if wishing to in- 
 timate that, though she might have to say 
 Yes, it should be done with an ill grace. 
 *' He's talking now with — which is it? — 
 Mary." 
 
 "• I thought it was Grace," began the Earl, 
 in a deprecatory tone ; *' I took that for 
 granted " 
 
 *' Dinner, my lady," came the interruption, 
 as the door was flung open : and the Earl 
 
84 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 started up, and said not another word. He 
 thought it well that his lady wife should 
 digest the news so far, before proceeding 
 further with it. The Countess, on her part, 
 understood that all was told, and that the de- 
 sired bride was Grace. 
 
 Mr. Grubb gave his arm to Lady Acorn, 
 and sat down at her right hand. Lady Grace 
 was next him on the other side. He was an 
 agreeable man, of easy manners. Could they 
 ignore the City house, and had he boasted of 
 ancestry and a high-sounding name, they 
 could not have wished for a companion who 
 was more thoroughly the gentleman. Un- 
 usually agreeable he was this evening, for he 
 now believed that no bar would be thrown in 
 the Avay of his winning the Lady Adela. He 
 had long admired her above all women ; he 
 had long loved her, and he saw no reason 
 why any bar should be thrown : what incom- 
 patibility ought to exist between the portion- 
 less daughter of a ruined peer and a British 
 merchant of high character and standing and 
 next to unlimited wealth ? The ruined peer, 
 however, had he heard this argument, might 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 85 
 
 have said the merchant reasoned but in ac- 
 cordance with his merchant-origin ; that he 
 could not be exj^ected to understand distinc- 
 tions which were above him. 
 
 Lady Acorn rose from table early. She 
 had been making up her mind to the match, 
 during dinner : like her husband, she dis- 
 covered, on reflection, its numerous advan- 
 tages, and she was impatient to disclose the 
 matter to Grace. Mr. Grubb held the door 
 open as they filed out, for which the Countess 
 thanked him by a bow more cordial than she 
 had ever bestowed on him in her life; Whether 
 it had ever occurred to Lady Acorn that this 
 City man was probably the son of Catherine 
 Grant, cannot be told. She had never 
 alluded to it : Catherine had offended them 
 all too greatly ever to be recalled even by 
 name : and, so far as Lord Acorn went, he 
 did not know such a person as Catherine had 
 ever existed. 
 
 The girls gathered their chairs round the 
 fire in the autumn evening, and began grum- 
 bling. ** Engagements " — he did not say of 
 what nature — had been Lord Acorn's plea for 
 
86 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 remaining in town when everybody else had 
 left it. Adela was especially bitter. 
 
 *'Papa never does things like other people. 
 When we ought to be away, we are boxed up 
 in town ; and when everybody else is in to^vn, 
 we are kept in the country. I'm sick of it.'' 
 
 '' It's a pity, girls, you've not got husbands 
 to cater for you, as you are sick of your 
 father's rule," tartly spoke their mother. 
 *' You don't go off ; any of you." 
 
 ** It is Grace's turn to go first," cried Lady 
 Harriet. 
 
 *' Yes, it is — and one wedding in a family 
 often leads to another," observed the wily 
 Countess. '' I should like to see Grace well 
 settled. With a fine place of her own where 
 we could go and visit her, and a nice town 
 mansion ; and a splendid income to support 
 it all." 
 
 *'And a box at the opera," suggested 
 Frances. 
 
 ** And a herd of deer, and a pack of 
 hounds, and the crown diamonds," inter- 
 rupted Adela, with irony in her tone, and a 
 spice of scorn in her eye, as she glanced up 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE, Zj 
 
 from her book. '' Don't yon wish we had 
 Aladclin's lamp ? It might come to pass 
 then." 
 
 *'But if I tell you that it will come to 
 pass without it," said Lady Acorn, ^' that it 
 has come to pass, w^hat should you say ? 
 Look up, Grace, my dear ; there's luck in 
 store for you yet." 
 
 Their mother's manner was so pointedly 
 significant, that all were silent from amaze- 
 ment. The colour mounted to the cheeks of 
 Grace, and her lips parted : could it be that 
 she was no longer to remain Lady Grace 
 Chenevix ? 
 
 *' Grace, child," continued the Countess, 
 ^Hhe time has gone by for you to pick and 
 choose. You are now getting on for thirty, and 
 have never had the ghost of a chance " 
 
 '^That is more than you ought to assert, 
 mamma," interrupted Grace, her face flushing, 
 perhaps at her mother's assertion telling 
 home. ** I may have had — I did have a 
 chance, as you call it, but " 
 
 ^'Well, not that w^e ever knew of; let us 
 amend the sentence in that way. What I was 
 
88 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 going to observe is, that you must not be over 
 particular now." 
 
 *' Has Grace got an offer?" inquired 
 Harriet, breathlessly. 
 
 *^ Yes, she has, and you need not all look so 
 incredulous. It is a good offer too, plenty of 
 substance about it. She will abound in such 
 wealth that she'll be the envy of all the girls 
 in London, and of you four in particular. 
 She will have her town and country man- 
 sions, crowds of servants, dresses at will — 
 everything, in short, that money can pur- 
 chase." For, in her maternal anxiety for the 
 acceptance of the offer, her ladyship thought 
 she could not make too much of its advantages. 
 
 " Why, for all that, Grace would marry a 
 chimney sweep," laughed the plain-speaking 
 Lady Frances. 
 
 ** Grace has had it in her head to turn 
 serious," added Harriet ; ^^ she may put that 
 off now. I think Aladdin's lamp has been at 
 work." 
 
 '* Of course there are some disadvantages 
 attending the proposed match," said Lady 
 Acorn, with deprecation; '*no marriage is 
 
AT CHENEVIX HOUSE. 89 
 
 without tliem, I can tell yoii that. Grace 
 will have every real and substantial good ; 
 but the gentleman, in birth and position, is 
 — rather obscure. But he is not a chimney- 
 sweep : it's not so bad as that." 
 
 "' Good Heavens, mamma ! " interrupted 
 Lady Grace. '' ' So bad as that ? ' " 
 
 *^Pray do not make any further mystery, 
 mamma,'' said Mary. "• Who is it that has 
 fallen in love with Grace ? " 
 
 ^'Mr. Grubb." 
 
 '*Mr. Grubb ! " was echoed by the 
 
 young ladies in every variety of astonishment, 
 and Grace thought that of all the men in the 
 world she should have guessed him last ; but 
 she did not say so. She was of a cautious 
 nature, and rarely spoke on impulse. 
 
 The silence of surprise was broken by a 
 ringing laugh from Adela, one laugh following 
 upon another. It seemed as though she 
 could not cease. When had they seen Adela 
 so merry ? 
 
 '' I cannot help it," she said apologetically, 
 ** but it did strike me as sounding so absurd. 
 ' Lady Grace Grubb ! ' Forgive me, Gracie." 
 
90 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ** It will not bear so aristocratic a sound as 
 Lady Grace Chenevix/* retorted the mother, 
 tartly, *' but remember the old sa^dng, 
 * What's in a name ? ' It is you who are 
 absurd, Adela." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 LADY ADELA. 
 
 '' T HAVE opened the matter to Grace, and 
 there'll be no trouble with her/' began 
 Lady Acorn to her husband the next mornmg, 
 halting to say it as she was going into her 
 dressing-room. *' No girl knows better than 
 she on which side her bread is buttered ! " 
 
 **To Grace!" cried the Earl, who was 
 only half awake and spoke from the bed- 
 clothes. " Do you mean about Grubb ? " 
 ** Now what else should I mean V 
 *'But it is not Grace he wants. It's 
 
 Adela." 
 
 ** Adela \" echoed Lady Acorn, aghast. 
 
 *' I don't think he'd have Grace at a gift — 
 or any of them but Adela. And so you told 
 her, making her dream of wedding-rings and 
 orange-blossoms ! Poor Gracie, what a 
 sell ! " 
 
92 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ^* Adela will never have him/' broke forth 
 the Countess, in high vexation, at herself, her 
 husband, Mr. Grubb, and all the world. 
 « Never.'' 
 
 '* Oh, nonsense, she must be talked into it. 
 With five girls, it's something to get off one." 
 
 *' Adela is not a girl to be ' talked into ' 
 anything. She'd like a duke. She is the 
 vainest of them all." 
 
 **Look at the amount of devilry this will 
 patch up," urged the Earl, impressively, as he 
 lifted his head from the pillow. " If he does 
 not get Adela, he is going to sue for his over- 
 due bonds." 
 
 '' You have no business with bonds, over- 
 due or under-due," snapped his wife. *' I 
 declare I have nothing but worry in this 
 life." 
 
 '* I shall get the two thousand pounds 
 from him, if this comes off; you shall have 
 five hundred of it, as I told you ; and my 
 debt to him he will cancel. The man's mad 
 after Adela." 
 
 " But slie's not mad after him," retorted 
 Lady Acorn. 
 
LADY ADELA. 93 
 
 " Make her so," advised the Earl. And 
 her hidyship went forth to her dressing-room, 
 and allowed some of her superfluous temper to 
 explode on her unofi'ending maid, who stood 
 there waiting for her. 
 
 " There, that will do," she impatiently 
 said, when only half dressed, *' I'll finish for 
 myself. Go and send Lady Grace to me:" 
 and the maid went, gladly enough. 
 
 '' Grade, my dear," she began, when her 
 daughter entered, '' I am so sorry; so vexed; 
 but it was your papa's fault. He should have 
 been more explicit." 
 
 ^^ Vexed at what ? " asked Grace. 
 " That which I told you last night — I am 
 so grieved, poor child ! It turns out to have 
 been some horrible mistake." 
 
 Grace compressed her lips. **Yes, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 *' A mistake in the name. It is x\dela Mr. 
 Grubb proposed for — not you. I am deeply 
 grieved, Grace." 
 
 Lady Grace laid one hand across her chest : 
 it may be that her heart was beatins: un- 
 pleasantly with the disajDpointment. Better, 
 
94 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 certainly, that lier hopes had never been 
 raised, than that they shoiikl be dashed thus 
 unceremoniously down again. She had learnt 
 to appreciate Mr. Grubb as he deserved ; she 
 liked and esteemed him, and would gladly 
 have married him. 
 
 ** Will Adela accept him ? " were the first 
 w^ords she said. For she did not forget that 
 Adela, by way of amusing herself, had not 
 been sparing of her ridicule, the previous 
 night, of Mr. Grubb and his pretensions. 
 
 *' I don't know," growled Lady Acorn. 
 ** Adela, when she chooses, can be the very 
 essence of obstinacy. I have said nothing to 
 her. It is only now I found out there was a 
 misapprehension." 
 
 ''Mother!" suddenly exclaimed Grace, 
 "it has placed me in a painfully ridiculous 
 position, there's no denying that : we have 
 been talking of it amidst ourselves. If you 
 will help me, it may be made less so." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Say that I was in your confidence ; that 
 we both knew it was Adela ; and that what 
 was said about me was ai ranged betvreen us 
 
LADY ADELA. 95 
 
 to break tiie matter to her, and get her recon- 
 ciled to the idea of him. And let it be 
 myself, not you, to explain now to Adela/' 
 
 "Yes, yes; do as you will," eagerly 
 assented the mother : for she did feel sorry 
 for Grace. 
 
 Grace went to Adela's room, and found her 
 there, with Harriet. She had been recalling 
 the past : and she saw now how attentive 
 Francis Grubb had been to Adela ; how fond 
 of talking with her. " Had our eyes been 
 open, w^e might have seen it all ! " sighed 
 Grace. 
 
 ''How nicely you were all taken in last 
 night ! " she said, assuming a hght playful- 
 ness, as she sat down at the open window. 
 '* Don't you think mamma and I got up that 
 fable well about Mr. Grubb ? " 
 
 "Got it up!" cried Harriet. "You 
 hypocritical sinners! Did he not make the 
 offer ? *' 
 
 " Ay, but not to me. It was better to put 
 it so, don't you see, by way of breaking it to 
 you." 
 
 " Then you are not going to be Lady 
 
96 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 Grace Grubb, after all ! " said Adela. '' Well, 
 it would have been an incongruous assimila- 
 tion of names." 
 
 ''" I am not. Guess who it is he wants, 
 Adela ? " 
 
 " Frances ? " cried out Harriet. 
 
 '^No, but you are very near — you burn, 
 as we children used to say at our play.'' 
 
 '^Not Adela r' 
 
 *^ It is," answered Grace. ** And I con- 
 gratulate her heartily. Lady Adela Grubb 
 will sound better than Lady Grace would." 
 
 ^' Thank you," satirically answered Adela; 
 *' you may retain the name yourself, Grace. 
 None of your grubs for me." 
 
 "Ah, don't be silly, child. A grub, in- 
 deed ! He is one of the best and most ad- 
 mirable of men ; a true nobleman." 
 
 The words were interrupted by a laugh 
 from Harriet ; a ringing laugh. '^ Oh, Gracie, 
 how unfortunate ! What shall we do ! Frances 
 wrote last night to tell Miss Upton of your 
 engagement, and the letter's posted." 
 
 Grace Chenevix suppressed her mortifica- 
 tion, and quitted her sisters with a smiling 
 
LADY ADELA, 
 
 97 
 
 face. But wlieu she was safe in her own 
 room, she burst into a flood of distressing 
 tears. 
 
 Lord and Lady Acorn chose to breakfast 
 that morning alone in the library. Afterwards 
 Adela was sent for. Straightening down the 
 slim waist of her pretty morning dress with 
 an action that spoke of conscious vanity, she 
 obeyed the summons. Lord Acorn threw 
 aside the morning paper when she entered. 
 
 ^' Adela, sit dow^n,'' he said, pushing the 
 chair at his elbow slightly forward. ^' We 
 have received an offer of marriage for you; 
 and, though it is not in every respect all we 
 could wish '' 
 
 **From the grub,'* interrupted Adela, 
 merging ceremony in indignation, as she stood 
 confronting both her parents, regardless of 
 the seat proffered. '^ Grace has been telling 
 me:" 
 
 '* Hush, Adela! don't give way to flippant 
 folly," interposed her mother. *' Have you 
 considered the advantages of such an alliance 
 as this?" 
 
 '' Advantages, mamma ! I don't under- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 stand. Have you '' — turning to her father — 
 *' considered the disadvantages, sir ? " 
 
 ** There is only one disadvantage connected 
 with it, Adela — that he is not of nohle birth." 
 
 •' But that is insuperable, papa ! " 
 
 *' Indeed, no," said Lord Acorn. '* You 
 will possess every good that wealth can com- 
 mand ; all things that can conduce to happi- 
 ness. Your position will be an enviable one. 
 How many of the daughters of our order — in 
 more favourable circumstances than yours — 
 have married these merchant-princes ! " 
 
 Adela pouted. " That is no reason why I 
 should, papa. I don't want to marry." 
 
 '^ You might all remain unmarried for ever, 
 and make five old maids of yourselves, and 
 buy cats and monkeys to pet, if it were not 
 for the horrible dilemma we are in," screamed 
 the Countess, in her well-known fiery tone, 
 and with a wrathful glance at the Earl : for 
 her tones always were fiery and her glances 
 wrathful when his unpardonable recklessness 
 was recalled to her mind. '^ Mr. Grubb has 
 been, so to say, the salvation of us for years — 
 for years, Adela — every year has brought its 
 
LADY ADELA. 99 
 
 embarrassments, and he has helped us out of 
 them. As well tell her the truth at once, 
 Lord Acorn," she concluded sharply. 
 
 ** Ugh ! " grunted he, in what might be 
 taken for a note of unwilling assent. 
 
 ' ' And if we put this affront upon him — 
 refuse him your hand, which he solicits with 
 so much honour and liberality — it will be all 
 over with us. We can't live any longer in 
 England, for there's nothing left to live upon ; 
 w^e must go abroad to some wretched hole of 
 a continental place, and lodge on one dirty 
 floor of six rooms, and live as common people. 
 What chance would there be of your picking 
 up even a merchant then ?" 
 
 Adela rose, smiling incredulously. '' Things 
 cannot be as bad as that, mamma/' 
 
 '' Sit down, Adela," cried her father, 
 peremptorily, raising his hand to check the 
 flow of eloquence his wife was again about to 
 enter upon. " It is as bad. Grubb has be- 
 haved like a prince to me, and nothing less. 
 And, if he should recal the money he has lent, 
 I know not, in truth, where any of us would 
 be. J should have to run ; and be posted up 
 
loo COURT NETHERLEIGIL 
 
 as a defaulter, into the bargain, all over the 
 kingdom." And, in a few brief words, he 
 explained facts to her ; making, of course, the 
 worst of them. The obstinacy on Adela's 
 countenance faded away as she listened : she 
 was deeply attached to her father. 
 
 *' You will be a ver}^ princess if you take 
 him, Adela," said Lady Acorn. *' Ah ! I can 
 tell you, child, before you have come to my 
 age you will have found out that there's little 
 worth living for but wealth, which brings 
 ease and comfort. I ought to know ; for our 
 want of it, through one absurd extravagance 
 or another " — with a dreadful glance at her 
 lord — " has been the worry and bane of my 
 married life." 
 
 ^'You have been extravagant on your own 
 score," growled he. 
 
 ^' But, papa, I don't care for Mr. Grubb. 
 Apart from the disreputable fact that he is a 
 
 tradesman " 
 
 *' Those merchant-princes cannot be called 
 tradesmen, Adela," quickly interposed Lord 
 Acorn, who could put the case strongly, in spite 
 of his prejudices, when it suited his interest. 
 
LADV ADELA. loi 
 
 ^^ Well, apart from that, I say I do not like 
 liim." 
 
 ^' Yon cannot (//.slike him. Nobody can 
 dislike Francis Grubb." 
 
 ** I shall if I am made to marry him." 
 
 Her obstinate mood was returning ; they 
 saw that, and they let her escape for the time. 
 x\dela, the youngest and most beautiful of all 
 their children, had been reprehensibly in- 
 dulged : allowed to grow up in the belief that 
 the world was made for her. 
 
 *' Well, Adela, and how have you sped? '* 
 asked Grace. 
 
 ''Oh, I don't know," was Adela's answer, 
 as she flung herself into a low chair by her 
 dressing-table. "Mamma is so fond of telling 
 us that the world's full of trouble ; and I 
 think it is." 
 
 '' Have you consented ? " 
 
 ''No. And I don't intend to consent." 
 
 " But why not ? He is very nice, very ; 
 and the advantages are very great. Tell me 
 why you will not, Adela — dear Adela ? " 
 
 Adela turned her head away. "I do not 
 care to marry yet ; him, or any other man," 
 
103 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Slight — or rather a doiiht — seemed to 
 break uj^on Lady Grace. " Adela," she 
 whispered, '*it is not possible you are still 
 thinking of Captain Stanley ? " 
 
 ^' Where would be the use of that ? " was 
 the answer. ^'He is fighting in India, and I 
 am here : little chance of our paths in life 
 ever again crossing each other." 
 
 " If I really thought your head was still 
 Tunning upon Stanley, I would tell you " 
 
 *' What ? " for Grace had stopped. 
 
 ** The truth," was the reply, in a low 
 Toice. *'News of him reached England by 
 the last mail." 
 
 ''What news?" 
 
 " Well, I — I hardly know v/hether you will 
 care much to hear it." 
 
 " Probably not. I should like to, for all 
 that." 
 
 " He is married." 
 
 Adela looked up with a start, and her 
 colour faded. " Married ? " 
 
 *' He is. He has married his cousin, a 
 Miss Stanley, and it is said they have long 
 been attached to each other. He was a 
 
LADY ADELA. 103 
 
 frightful flirt ; but he had no heart ; I always 
 said it ; and I think he was not a good man 
 in other respects/' 
 
 The news brought a pang of mortification 
 to Adela ; perhaps a deeper pang than that. 
 Some eighteen months back, she saw a good 
 deal of this Captain Stanley ; it was thought 
 by shrewd observers that she had lost her 
 heart to him. If so, it was now thrown back 
 upon her. 
 
 And, whether it might have been this, or 
 whether it was the persistent persuading of 
 her father and mother, x\dela Chenevix con- 
 sented to accept Mr. Grubb. But she bitterly 
 resented the necessity, and from that hour she 
 deliberately steeled her heart against him. 
 
 Daintily she swept into the room for her 
 first interview with him. He stood in agita- 
 tion at its upper end — a fine intellectual man ; 
 one, young though he was, to be venerated 
 and loved. She wore a pink-and- white silk 
 dress, and her hair had pink and white roses 
 in it; for Mr. Grubb had come to dinner, and 
 she was already dressed for it. A rich colour 
 shone in her cheeks, her beautiful eyes and 
 
IO+ COURT XETHERLEIGL\ 
 
 features were lighted np with it, and her deli- 
 cate figure was thrown back — in disdain. Oh, 
 that he could have read it then ! 
 
 He never afterwards quite remembered 
 what he said when he approached her. He 
 knew he took her hand. And he believed he 
 whispered words of thanks. 
 
 *' They are not due to me," was her answer, 
 delivered with cold equanimity. * ' My father 
 tells me I must marry you, and I accede 
 to it." 
 
 *' May God enable me to reward you for 
 the confidence you repose in me ! " he 
 whispered. '' If it be given to man to love a 
 wife as one never yet w^as loved, may it be 
 given to me ! " 
 
 • She twisted her hand from him with an 
 ungracious movement, for he would have 
 retained it, and walked deliberately across the 
 room, leaving him where he stood, and rang 
 the bell. 
 
 '' Tell mamma Mr. Grubb is here/' she 
 said to the servant. 
 
 He felt pained : he understood this had 
 been an accorded interview. Like all other 
 
LJ.DY A DEL A. 105 
 
 lovers, he began to speak of the future — of 
 his hope that she would learn to love hmi. 
 
 '* There should be no misunderstanding be- 
 tween us on this point," she hastily answered; 
 and could it be that there was contempt in her 
 tone ? *' I have agreed to be your wife; but, 
 until a day or two ago, the possibility of my 
 becoming so had never been suggested to me. 
 Therefore, the love that I suppose ought to 
 accompany this kind of contract is not mine 
 to offer." 
 
 How wondrously calm she spoke — in so 
 matter-of-fact, business-like a way ! It struck 
 even him, infatuated though he was. 
 
 *'It may come in time," he whispered. 
 *^ My love shall call forth yours ; my " 
 
 "I hear mamma," interrupted Adela, 
 drawing aw^ay from him, like a second cruel 
 Barbara Allen. 
 
 *' Adela, where's your town house to be ? " 
 began one of the girls to her when they got 
 into the drawing-room after dinner, the Earl 
 and Mr. Grubb being still at table. *' Not in 
 the smoky City, surely ! " 
 
 *'His house is not in the City; it's in 
 
io6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Piussell Square," corrected anotlier. *• Of 
 course he won't take her there I " 
 
 " Ada, mmcl which opera-box you secure. 
 Let it hokl us all/' 
 
 *' Of course you'll be smothered in 
 diamonds," suggested Lady Mary. 
 
 ^' One good thing will come of this wedding, 
 if nothing else does : mamma must get us 
 new things, and plenty of them." 
 
 *' I w^onder whether he will give us any 
 ornaments ? He is generous to a fault. Is 
 he not, Adela ? " 
 
 *' How you tease ! " was Adela's lano^uid 
 rejoinder. ^^ Go and ask him." 
 
 " I protest, Adela, if you show yourself so 
 supremely indifferent, he will declare off before 
 the wedding-day." 
 
 '^And take up with one of you. I wish he 
 would." 
 
 ^'No fear. Ada's chains are bound about 
 him fast. One may see how he loves her." 
 
 *' Love ! " cried iVdela. ^' It is perfectly 
 absurd — from him to me. But it is the way 
 with those plebeians." 
 
 The preparations for the wedding were 
 
LADY ADELA, 107 
 
 begun. On so magnificent a scale that the 
 fashionable world of London was ringing with 
 them. The bridegroom's liberality, in all that 
 concerne his future wife, could not be sur- 
 passed. Settlements, houses, carriages, horses, 
 furniture, ornaments, jev\'ellery, all were per- 
 fect of their kind, leaving nothing to be wished 
 for. The Lady Adela had once spoken of 
 Aladdin's lamp, in reference to her sister 
 Grace's ideal union : lookin^f on these real 
 preparations, one might imagine that some 
 magic, equally powerful, was at work now. 
 
 Lord Acorn had a place in Oxfordshire, and 
 the family went to it in October. Mr. Grubb 
 paid it one or two short visits, and went down 
 for Christmas, staying then ten days. They 
 were all cordial with him, save Adela; she 
 continued to be supremely indifferent. He 
 won upon their regard strangely : the girls 
 could do nothing but sing his praises. Poor 
 unselfish Grace once caught herself wishing 
 that that early misapprehension had not been 
 one, and then took herself to task severely. 
 She loved Adela, and was glad for her sake. 
 
 But Adela was not quite always cold and 
 
io8 COURT NETHERLEICIl. 
 
 liauglity. As if to show her affianced husband 
 that such was not her true nature, she would 
 now and again be sweetly winning and gentle. 
 On one of these occasions he caught her hand. 
 They were alone, sitting on a sofii ; Frances 
 had run>> into the next room for a book they 
 were discussing. 
 
 *' Adela," he whispered passionately, taking 
 both her hands in his, " but for these rare 
 moments, I should be in despair.'' 
 
 She did not, for a wonder, resent the words. 
 She glanced up at him, a shy look in her 
 sweet brown eyes, a smile on her parted lips, 
 a deeper rose- blush on her delicate face. He 
 stooped and kissed her ; kissed her fervently. 
 
 She resented that. For when Frances, 
 coming back on the instant, entered, she met 
 Adela sweeping from the room in a storm of 
 anger. 
 
 Not to let him kiss her ! And in six weeks' 
 time she was to be his wife ! 
 
 Mr. Grubb had an adventure on the journey 
 home. They had passed Eeading some 
 minutes, wlien the train was stopped. A 
 down-train had come to grief through the 
 
LADY ADELA. 109 
 
 breaking of an axle, tlirowing a carriage, for- 
 tunately empt}', right across the line ; which 
 in consequence was temporarily blocked up. 
 The passengers of the down- train, very few of 
 them, were standing about ; the passengers of 
 the up -train got out also. 
 
 ' ' Can I be of any use ? — can I do anything 
 for you ? '' asked Mr. Grubb, addressing a 
 little lady in a black-silk cloak and close 
 bonnet, who was sitting on a box and looking 
 rather helpless. And, though he had heard 
 tell of Miss Margery Upton, he w^as not aware 
 that it was she to wdiom he was s|)eaking. 
 
 "It is good of you to inquire, sir ; you are 
 the first that has done it," she answered; "but 
 I don't see that there's anything to be done. 
 We might all have been killed. They should 
 keep their material in safer order." 
 
 She looked up as she spoke. Some drops 
 of rain were beginning to fall. Mr. Grubb 
 put up his umbrella, and held it over her. 
 To do this, he laid down a small hand-bag of 
 Eussian leather, on the silver clasp of which 
 was engraved " C. Grubb." Miss Upton 
 read the name, rose from her box, and looked 
 
no COURT NErilERLElGH. 
 
 him steadily in the face. *' It is a good 
 face and a handsome one/' she thought to 
 herself. 
 
 *' Sir, is your name Grubb ? " she asked. 
 
 *' Yes, madam, it is." 
 
 *'I read it here," she explained, pointing 
 to the old-fashioned article. 
 
 "Ah yes," he smiled. "It was my late 
 father's bag, and that was his name." 
 
 " Was he Christopher Grubb ? " 
 
 " He was." 
 
 She put her hand on his coat-sleeve, 
 apparently for the purpose of steadying her- 
 self while regarding his face more attentively. 
 
 " You have your mother's eyes," she said : 
 " I should know them anywhere.' Beautiful 
 eyes they were. And so are yours." 
 
 " And may I inquire who it is that is doing 
 honour to my vanity in saying this ? " he 
 rejoined, in the winning voice and manner 
 characteristic of him. 
 
 "Ay, if you like. I daresay you have 
 heard of me. I am Margery Upton." 
 
 "Indeed I have; and I have wondered 
 sometimes whether I should ever see you. 
 
a 
 
 LADY ADELA. in 
 
 Then did you know my mother, Miss 
 
 Upton ? " 
 
 ' ' I did ; in the old days when w^e were 
 girls together. Has she never told you so ? " 
 Not to my recollection/' 
 I see. Eesented our resentment, and 
 dropped us out of her life as we dropped 
 her," commented Miss Upton partly to her- 
 self, as she sat down again. *' What a tinker- 
 ing they keep up there ! Is your mother 
 living ? " 
 
 " Yes; but she is an invalid." 
 
 "Is it you who are about to marry Lord 
 Acorn's daughter ? " continued Miss Upton. 
 
 '* Yes. I have just come from them." 
 
 ''I knew the name was Grubb, and that he 
 was a City man and wealthy," she candidly 
 continued; '^ and the thought occurred to me 
 that it might possibly be the son of the 
 Christopher Grubb I heard something of in 
 early life. I did not put the question to the 
 Acorns." 
 
 *'It is by them I have heard you spoken 
 of," he remarked. " Also by my sister." 
 
 '^ By your sister ! " exclaimed Miss Upton 
 
113 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 in surprise. *' What sister ? Wliat does she 
 know of me ? '' 
 
 " She was staying some fom'teen or fifteen 
 months ago wdth the Dalrymples of Moat 
 Grange — it was at the time of Mr. Dakymple's 
 sad death — and she made your acquaintance 
 there. She is Mary Lynn, my half-sister. 
 My father died when I was a little lad, and 
 my mother made a second marriage." 
 
 Miss Upton was silent, apparently revolving 
 matters in her mind. " Did your sister know 
 that I was her mother's early friend ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 ^' Oh, no ; I think not. She only spoke of 
 you as a stranger — or, rather, as a friend of 
 the Dalrymples. I never heard my mother 
 speak of you at all — I do not suppose Mary 
 has." 
 
 " That young girl had her mother's eyes," 
 suddenly cried Miss Upton, "just as you 
 have. They seemed familiar to me ; I re- 
 member that ; but I wanted the clue, which 
 this name" — bending dow^n to look at the 
 bag — " has supplied. . C. Grubb — Christo- 
 pher was your father's name." 
 
LADY AUELA. 113 
 
 *' It is mine also." 
 
 '^ And Francis too !" slie quickly cried. 
 
 ^' And Francis too — Francis Charles Chris- 
 topher.'' It crossed his mind to wonder how 
 she knew it was Francis, then remembered it 
 must have been from the Acorns. Miss 
 Upton had lifted her face, and was looking 
 at him. 
 
 **Why did your mother name you Fran- 
 cis?" she asked, rather sharply. 
 
 ^' I was named Francis after my father's 
 only brother. He stood to me as godfather, 
 and gave me his name — Francis Charles." 
 And left me his money also, Mr. Grubb 
 might have added, but did not. 
 
 "I see," nodded Miss Upton, apparently 
 satisfied. ''You have been letting Lord 
 Acorn borrow no end of money of you on 
 the strensfth of his cominof into the Nether- 
 leigh estate," she resumed, in her matter-of- 
 fact, open way, that spoke so much of 
 candour. 
 
 Mr. Grubb hesitated, and his face slightly 
 flushed. It did not seem right to enter upon 
 Lord Acorn's affiirs with a stranger. But 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 COURT XETHERLEIGII. 
 
 she seemed to know all about it, and was 
 w^aiting for his answer. 
 
 '^Not on the Netherleigh estate," he an- 
 swered. ''I have always told Lord Acorn 
 that he ought not to make sure of that." 
 
 " You would he quite safe in lending it," 
 she nodded, a peculiar look of acuteness, 
 wdiich Mr. Gruhh did not altogether fathom, 
 on her face. '^ Quite." 
 
 Some stir interrupted further conversation. 
 The tinkering, as Miss Upton called it, had 
 ceased, and the down line was at length 
 ready for traffic. "Where are my people, I 
 wonder?" cried Miss Upton, rising and look- 
 ing around. 
 
 They came forward almost as she spoke — 
 a man and a maid servant. The former took 
 up the box she had been sitting on, and Mr. 
 Grubb gave her his arm to the train, and put 
 her into the carriage. 
 
 *' This is the first time I have seen you, 
 but I hope it will not be the last," she said, 
 retaininL*" his hand in hers when she had 
 shaken it. "I am now on my w\ay to Chel- 
 tenham, to spend a month, perhaps two 
 
LADY ADELA. 115 
 
 months. I like the place, and go to it nearly 
 every year. When I return you must come 
 to Court Netherleigh." 
 
 *' I shall be very much pleased to do so." 
 
 Mr. Grubb had left her, and was waiting to 
 see the train go on, when she made a hasty 
 movement to him with her hand. 
 
 "Perhaps I was incautious in saying that 
 you were safe in lending money on the Nether- 
 leigh property,'' she whispered in his ear. 
 ^' Take care you don't breathe a word of that 
 admission to Acorn. He would want to 
 borrow you out of house and home." 
 
 Mr. Grubb smiled. ''I will take care ; 
 you may rely on me, Miss Upton." And he 
 stood back and lifted his hat as the delayed 
 train puffed on. 
 
 And it may be well to give a word of ex- 
 planation while Mr. Grubb is waiting for his 
 delayed train, which is not ready to puff on 
 yet. 
 
 The house, ''Christopher Grubb and Son,' 
 situated in Leadenhall Street, was second in 
 importance to few in the City ; I had almost 
 said second to none. It had been founded by 
 
Ii6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the old man, Christopher Griibb, father of 
 the Christopher who had married Catherine 
 Grant, and grandfather of the Francis who is 
 waiting for his train. The two Christophers, 
 father and son, died about the same time, 
 and the business was carried on by okt Chris- 
 topher's other son, Francis. Catherine Grubb, 
 nee Grant, was left largely endowed, provided 
 she did not marry again. If she did, a com- 
 paratively small portion only would remain 
 hers, and at her disposal — about a thousand 
 pounds a-year ; the rest would go at once to 
 her little son, of whom she would also forfeit 
 the personal guardianship. Mrs. Grubb did 
 marry again ; and the little lad, aged eight, 
 was transferred to the care of his uncle Fran- 
 cis, in accordance with the terms of the will, 
 and to his nucleus house in Eussell Square. 
 But Mr. Francis Grubb was no churlish guar- 
 dian, and the child was allowed to be very 
 often at Blackheath with his mother. Mrs. 
 Grubb 's second husband, Eichard Lynn, who 
 was a barrister, not often troubled with briefs, 
 did not live long ; and she was again left a 
 widow, with her little girl, Mary Isabel. She 
 
LADY ADELA. 117 
 
 continued in the house at Blackheath, which 
 was her own, and she was in it still. 
 
 Upon quitting Oxford, where he took a 
 degree, Francis entered the house in Leaden - 
 hall Street, becoming at once its head and 
 chief. He showed good aptitude for business, 
 was attentive, steady, punctual ; above all, 
 he did not despise it. When he had been in 
 it three or four years, his uncle — with whom 
 he continued to reside in Eussell Square — 
 found his health failing. Seeing what must 
 shortly occur, he recommended his nephew 
 to take a partner — one James Howard, a 
 methodical, middle-aged, honourable man, 
 w^ho had been in the house since old Chris- 
 topher's time. This w^as carried out ; and 
 the firm became Grubb and Howard. The 
 next event was the death of the uncle, Fran- 
 cis Grubb. He bequeathed five thousand 
 pounds to Mary Lynn, and the whole of his 
 large accumulated fortune, save that, to his 
 nephew, Francis the younger, including the 
 house in Eussell Square. Francis had con- 
 tinued to reside in the house since, until the 
 present time. 
 
ii8 COURT XETHERLEIGH. 
 
 He was quitting it now — transferring it over 
 to Mr. Howard ; who had taken a fancy to 
 leave his place at Eichmond and live in Lon- 
 don. Of course, a house in Eussell Square 
 would not suit the aspiring tastes of Lady 
 Adela Chenevix, and Francis Gruhb had been 
 fortunate enough to secure and purchase the 
 lease of one within the aristocratic regions of 
 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 The wedding took place in February. Miss 
 Upton did not attend it, though pressed very 
 much by the Acorn family to do so. She was 
 still at Cheltenham, not feeling very well, she 
 told them, not sufficiently so to come up; but 
 she sent Adela a cheque for two hundred 
 pounds — which no doubt atoned for her 
 absence. 
 
 The bride and bridegroom took their de- 
 parture for Dover en route for Eome : Lady 
 Adela having condescended to express a wish 
 to visit the Eternal City. 
 
CHAPTER YL 
 
 ALL DOWN HILL. 
 
 T^HE hot rays of the June sun lay on the 
 west-end streets one Thursday at mid- 
 day, and on three men of fashion who wei'e 
 stroUing through them arm-in-arm. He who 
 walked in the middle was a young man turned 
 six-and-twenty, hut not looking it ; a good- 
 natured, easy-going, attractive 3'oung fellow, 
 who won his way wdth everybody. It was 
 Robert Dalrymple. From two to three years 
 had elapsed since his father's death ; and, alas, 
 they had not been made years of wisdom to 
 him. Impulsive, generous, hasty, improvi- 
 dent, and very fond of London life, Robert 
 Dalrymple had been an easy prey to Satan's 
 myrmidons in the shape of designing men. 
 
 These two gentlemen, with him to-day, 
 were not precisely genii of good. One of 
 them, Colonel Haughton, w^as a stout, elderly 
 
I20 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 man, with a burly manner, and a mass of iron- 
 grey hair adorning his big head ; his black 
 eyes stood out, bold and hard, through his 
 gold - rimmed glasses. Mr. Piggott, much 
 younger, was little and thin, with a stoop in 
 the shoulders, and one of the craftiest coun- 
 tenances ever seen, to those who could read it. 
 Suddenly Eobert stood still, withdrew his arm 
 from Mr. Piggott 's, and gazed across the street. 
 
 '' What now^, Dalrymple ? " 
 
 '' There's my Cousin Oscar ! If ever I 
 saw him in my life, that is he. What brings 
 him in town ? I will wish you good day and 
 be after him.'' 
 
 ^* To meet to-night," quickl}^ cried Colonel 
 Haughton. 
 
 *' To meet to-night, of course. No fear of 
 my not coming for my revenge. Adieu to 
 both of you until then." 
 
 It is a sad story that you have to hear of 
 Pvobert Dalrymple. How shall I tell it ? And 
 yet, while runniug into this pitfall, and tum- 
 bling into that, the young man's intentions 
 were so good and himself so sanguine that 
 one's heart ached for him. 
 
ALL DOWN HLLL, 121 
 
 In his chivalrous care for his mother, the 
 first thing Robert did, on coming home from 
 his father's fmieral, was to break off the en- 
 gagement with Mary Lynn. Or, rather, to 
 postpone it — if you can understand such a 
 thing. *' We shall not be able to marry for 
 many a year, Mary," he said, the tears that 
 had fallen during the burial service still 
 glistening in his eyes, '' and so you had better 
 take back your troth. Moat Grange is no 
 longer mine, for I cannot and will not turn 
 my mother and sisters out of it ; I promised 
 ]iim I would not : and so — and so — there's 
 nothing to be done but part." 
 
 In the grey gloaming that same evening 
 they w^ent out under the canopy of heaven and 
 talked the matter over calmly. Neither of 
 them wanted to part with the other : but 
 they saw not any w^ay at present of escaping 
 it. Eobert had property of his own that 
 brought him two hundred a-year ; Mary had 
 the five thousand pounds left her by Mr. 
 Francis Grubb. Mary w^ould have risked it, 
 though she did not say so ; Robert never 
 glanced at the possibility. Super-exalted 
 
122 COURT yETHERLEIGIL 
 
 ideas blind us to the common view of eveiy- 
 day life, and Eobert could only look at house- 
 keeping in the style of that at Moat Grange. 
 It occurred to Mary that j^erhaps his mother 
 and her mother might spare them something 
 yearly, but again she did not like it to be her- 
 self to suggest it. So the open agreement 
 come to between them was, to cancel the 
 engagement ; the tacit one was to Kali — and 
 that they were just as much plighted to each 
 other as ever. 
 
 But the reader must fully understand 
 Eobert Dalrymple's position. He had come 
 into Moat Grange as surely and practically as 
 though he had had no mother in existence; 
 Its revenues were his ; his to do w^hat he 
 pleased with. It is true that the keeping up 
 of Moat Grange, as his father had kept it up, 
 "would take nearly all those revenues : and 
 Eobert had to learn that vet, in something]: 
 be^'ond theory. Mrs. Dalrymple instituted 
 various curtailments, but her son in his gene- 
 rosity thought they were unnecessary. 
 
 Close upon his father's death, Eobert came 
 to London, attended by Eeuben, and entered 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 123 
 
 upon some rather luxurious chambers in South 
 Audley Street. The rooms, and the expenses 
 of fashionable living, made havoc of his purse, 
 and speedily plunged him into embarrassment. 
 It might not have been serious embarrass- 
 ment, this alone, for he of course took to 
 himself a certain portion of his rents ; but 
 unfortunately some of the acquaintances he 
 made introduced him to that most dangerous 
 vice, gambling ; and they did not rest until 
 tliey had imbued him with a love of it. It is 
 of no use to pursue the course of his downfall. 
 He had been gradually getting lower and 
 lower since then in regard to finances, and 
 deeper into embarrassment : and in this, the 
 third season, Eobert Dalrymplc had hardly a 
 guinea he could call his owm ; and Moat 
 Grange was mortgaged. He was open- 
 hearted, generous as of old. Ah, if he could 
 only have been as free from care ! 
 
 Dodging in and out among the vehicles 
 that crow^led Eegent Street, Robert got over 
 at last, and tore after his cousin. ^' Oscar, 
 Oscar ! is it you ? '' he called out. ^' When 
 did you get here ? " 
 
124 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' Ah, liobert, how are you ? I was on my 
 way to South Audley Street to find you/' 
 
 "Come for a long stay?" demanded 
 Eobert, as he linked his arm within Oscar's. 
 
 *' I came to-day and I return to-morrow," 
 replied Oscar. 
 
 ** You don't mean that, man. Visit Lon- 
 don in the height of the season, and stay but 
 a day ! Such a calamity was never heard 
 of." 
 
 ** I cannot afford London in the season ; 
 my purse is not long enough." 
 
 '' You shall stay with me. But what did 
 you come for ? " 
 
 '* A small matter of business brought me," 
 replied Oscar, " and I have to go down to- 
 morrow — thank you all the same." 
 
 He did not say what the business was ; he 
 did not choose to say. Mrs. Dalrymple, still 
 living at the Grange, had been tormented by 
 doubts, touching her son, for some time 
 past. Eecently she had heard rumours that 
 rendered her doubly uneasy, and she had 
 begged of Oscar to come up and find out 
 whether there was any, or how much, ground 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 125 
 
 for them. If things were as bad as Mrs. 
 Dahymple feared, Oscar concluded that from 
 Eobert he should hear nothing. He meant 
 to put a question or two to him, to make his 
 observations silently, and, if necessary, to 
 question Eeuben. They were of totally oppo- 
 site natures, these two young men ; Oscar 
 was all cool calculation, and the senior by 
 half a dozen years ; Eobert all thoughtless 
 impulse. 
 
 Oscar put the question to Eobert in the 
 course of the afternoon ; but Eobert simply 
 waived the subject off, laughing in Oscar's 
 face the while. And from the observations 
 Oscar made in South Audley Street, nothing 
 could be gathered ; the rooms were quiet. 
 
 They dined there in the evening, Eeuben 
 waiting on them. Eobert urged various out- 
 door attractions on Oscar afterwards, but he 
 urged them in vain : Oscar preferred to re- 
 main at home. So they sipped their wine, 
 and talked. At eleven o'clock Oscar rose to 
 leave. 
 
 ''It is time for sober people to be in bed, 
 Eobert. I hope I have not kept you up." 
 
126 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Piobert Dalrymple fairly exploded ^vith 
 laughter. Kept him up ! at only eleven 
 o'clock ! ^' My evening is not begun yet," 
 said he. 
 
 **No ! " returned Oscar, looking surprised, 
 whether he felt so or not. *' What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 ^' I am eno-a2:ed for the eveninof to Colonel 
 Haughton."' 
 
 "It sounds a curious time to us quiet 
 country people to begin an evening. What 
 are you going to do at Colonel Haughton's ?" 
 
 '^ Can't tell till I get there." 
 
 " Can I accompany you ? " 
 
 Piobert's face turned grave, ^' No," said 
 he, ''it is a liberty I may not take. Colonel 
 Haughton is a peculiar-tempered man." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 '' Good night, Oscar. Come to breakfast 
 with me at ten." 
 
 Oscar Dalrymple departed. But he did 
 not proceed to the hotel where he had engaged 
 a bed ; on the contrary, he took up his station 
 in a shady nook, whence he could see the 
 door he had just come out of; and there he 
 
ALL DOJVN LULL. 127 
 
 waited patiently. Presently lie saw Eobert 
 Dalrymple emerge from it, and betake himself 
 away. 
 
 A little while yet waited Oscar, and then he 
 retraced his steps to the house, and rang the 
 bell. Reuben answered it. A faithful ser- 
 vant, getting in years now. Robert was the 
 third of the family he had serve:!. 
 
 *' Reuben, I may have left my no'e-case in 
 the dinin^--room," sail Oscar. '' Can I look 
 for it?" 
 
 The note case was looked for without suc- 
 cess : and Oscar discovered that it was safe 
 in his pocket. Perhaps he knew that all the 
 while. 
 
 *^I am sorry to have troubled you for 
 nothing, Reuben. Did I call you out of your 
 bed?'' 
 
 ''No, no," answered the man, shaking his 
 head. '' There's rarely much bed for me 
 before daylight, Mr. Oscar." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 ''I suppose young men must be young men, 
 sir. I should not mind that ; but Mr. Robert 
 is o-etting into iust the habits of his uncle." 
 
128 COURT MiTHERLEIuH. 
 
 Oscar looked up quickly. " His uncle — 
 Claude Dalrymple ? " lie asked in a low tone. 
 
 **Ay, he is, sir: and my heart is almost 
 mad at times with fear. If my dear late 
 master w^as alive, I should just go down to the 
 Grange and tell him everything/' 
 
 An idea floated into the mind of Oscar as 
 he listened. Mrs. Dalrymple had not men- 
 tioned whence she had heard the rumours of 
 Eobert's doings : he now thought it might 
 have been from no other than Eeuben. This 
 enabled him to speak out. 
 
 *' Eeuben/' he said, '^ I came up to-day at 
 Mrs. Dalrymple's request. She is terribly 
 uneasy about her son. Tell me all, for I have 
 to report it at the Grange. If what we fear 
 be true, something must be done to save him." 
 
 *'It is all true, sir, and I wrote to warn 
 my mistress," cried Eeuben. ^' Should things 
 ever come to a crisis with him, as they did 
 with his uncle, I knew Mrs. Dalrymple would 
 blame me bitterly for not having spoken. 
 And I should blame myself." 
 
 Oscar Dalrymple gazed at Eeuben, for the 
 man's words had struck ominously on his ear. 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 129 
 
 *^Do you fancy — do you fear — things may 
 come to a crisis with him, as they did with 
 his uncle ? " he breathed in a low tone. 
 
 '' Not in the same way, sir; not as to /u??z- 
 s^//," returned the man in agitation. ''Mr. 
 Oscar, how could you think it ? '' 
 
 '' Nay, Eeuben, 1 think it ! Your words 
 alone led to the thought/' 
 
 ^'I meant as to his money, sir. He has 
 fallen into a had gambling set, just as Mr. 
 Claude fell. One of them is the very same 
 man : Colonel Haughton. He ruined Mr, 
 Claude, and he is ruining Mr. Eobert. He 
 was Captain Haughton then ; he is Colonel 
 now, but he has sold out of the army long 
 ago. He lives by gambling. I have told 
 Mr. Eobert so, but he does not believe me." 
 
 '' That's where he is gone to-night." 
 
 ''Where he goes every night, Mr. Oscar. 
 Haughton and those men have lured him into 
 their toils, and he can't escape them. He has 
 not the moral courage ; and he has the mania 
 for play upon him. He comes home towards 
 morning, flushed and haggard; sometimes in 
 drink — yes, sir, drinking and gaming mostly 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
i:;o COURT XETHERLEIGH. 
 
 J 
 
 go together. He appeared laughing and care- 
 less before you, but it was all put on." 
 
 " Have you warned him — or tried to stop 
 him ? " 
 
 *' Yes, sir, once or twice ; but it does no 
 good. I don't like to sa}^ too much : he 
 might not take it from me. Those harpies 
 won't let him rest ; they come hunting after 
 him, just as they hunted his uncle a score, or 
 more, years ago. Nobody ever had a better 
 heart than Mr. Eobert ; but he is pliable, and 
 gets led away." 
 
 Oscar frowned. He thought Eobert had 
 no business to be "led away," and he felt 
 little tolerance for him. Eeuben had told all 
 he knew, and Oscar T\dshed him good night 
 and departed, full of painful thought touching 
 Eobert. 
 
 The night passed. In the morning Oscar 
 went to South Audley Street to breakfast. 
 Eobert was looking ill and anxious. 
 
 " Been making a night of it ?" said Oscar, 
 lightly. " You look as though you had." 
 
 "Yes, I was late. Pour out the coffee, 
 will you, Oscar ? " 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 13 1 
 
 His own hands were shaking. Oscar saw 
 it as Eobert opened his letters. One of them 
 bore the Netherleigdi postmark, and was from 
 Farmer Lee. Oscar hardly knew how to 
 open the ball, or what to say for the best. 
 
 ^'I'm sure something is disturbing you, 
 Eobert. You have had no sleep ; that's easy 
 to be seen. What pursuit can you have, that 
 it should keep you up all night ? '' 
 
 ^^One is never at a loss to kill time in 
 London.'' 
 
 *' I suppose not, if it has to be killed. But 
 I did not know it was necessary to kill that 
 which ought to be spent in sleep. One would 
 think you passed your nights at the gaming- 
 table, Eobert.'' 
 
 The words startled him, and a flush rose to 
 his pallid features. Oscar was gazing at him 
 steadily. 
 
 *' Eobert, you look conscious. Have you 
 learnt to gamble ? " 
 
 ''Oh, it's nothing," said Eobert, confusedly. 
 I may play a little now and then." 
 
 Do not shirk the question. Kme ijou taJcen 
 to play r' 
 
 
132 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 '' A little, I tell you. Never mind. It's 
 my own affair." 
 
 '^ You were playing last night ? " 
 
 '' Well — yes, I was. Yery little." 
 
 '' Lose or win ? " asked Oscar, carelessly. 
 
 *'01i, I lost," answered Eobert. '^ The 
 luck was against me." 
 
 '' Now, my good fellow, do you know what 
 you had best do ? Go home to Moat Grange, 
 and get out of this set : I know what game- 
 sters are ; they never let a pigeon off till he 
 is stripped of his last feather. Leave with me 
 for the Grange to-day, and cheat them ; and 
 stop there until the mania for play shall have 
 left you, though it should be years to come." 
 
 Ah, how heartily Eobert Dalrymple wished 
 in his heart that he could do it ! — that he 
 could break through the net in which he was 
 involved, in more ways than one ! "I cannot 
 go to Moat Grange," he ansv/ered. 
 
 '' Your reason ? " 
 
 " Because I must stay w^here I am. I wish 
 I had never come — never set up these cham- 
 bers; I do wish that. But, as I did, here I 
 am fixed." 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 133 
 
 ^' I cannot think why you did come — flying 
 from your home as soon as your father was 
 under ground. Had you succeeded to twenty 
 thousand a year, you could but have made 
 hot haste to launch out in the metropolis/' 
 
 ''I did not come to launch out," returned 
 Eobert, angrily. '*I came to get rid of my- 
 self. It was so wretched down there." 
 
 Oscar stared. '' What made it so ? " 
 
 '' The remembrance of my father. Every 
 face I met, every stick and stone about the 
 place seemed to reproach me with his death. 
 And justly. But for my carelessness he would 
 not have died." 
 
 " Well, that is all past and gone, Eobert. 
 You shall come back to the Grange with me. 
 You will be safe there." 
 
 ^*No. It is too late." 
 
 ** It is not too late. What do you mean ? 
 If " 
 
 " I tell you it is too late," burst out Eobert, 
 in a sharp tone : and Oscar thought it was 
 full of anguish. 
 
 He tried persuasion, he tried anger ; and no 
 impression whatever could he make on Eobert 
 
134 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Dalrymple. He thought Kobert was wilfull}', 
 wickedly obstinate ; the secret truth being 
 that Ejobert was ruined. Oscar told him he 
 " washed his hands '' of him, and departed. 
 
 It chanced that same afternoon that Kobert 
 ivas passing through Grosvenor Square and 
 met Mr. Grubb close to his house. Looking 
 at him casuall}^, reader, he has not changed ; 
 he has the same noble presence, the same 
 gracious manner ; nevertheless, the fifteen or 
 sixteen months that have elapsed since his 
 marriage, have brought a look of care to his 
 refined and thoughtful face, a line of pain to 
 its brow. They shook hands. 
 
 '^ Will you come in, Kobert ? " 
 
 *' I don't mind if I do," was the answer — 
 for in good truth Kobert Dalrymple was too 
 wretched not to seize on anything that might 
 serve to divert him from his own thoughts. 
 But Mr. Grubb paused in sudden remem- 
 brance. 
 
 ^' Mary is here to-day. Have you any 
 objection to meet her ? " 
 
 ^' Objection ! I shall like it," answered 
 Kobert, with a flush of emotion, for Mary 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 135 
 
 Lynn was still inexpressibly dear to him. " I 
 wish with my whole heart she w^as my wife — 
 that we had never parted ! It was all my 
 foolish doing." 
 
 ' ' I thought at the time you w^ere rather 
 chivalrous : I must say that," observed Mr. 
 Grubb, regarding him attentively. '' I sup- 
 pose, in point of fact, you are both waiting 
 for one another now." 
 
 *' Why do you say that ? " asked the young 
 man in evident agitation. 
 
 '' Step in here, Eobert," said Mr. Grubb, 
 drawing him through the hall to his own 
 room, the library. ''Mary persistently refuses 
 to accept good offers : she has had two during 
 the past year; therefore, I conclude that she 
 and you have some private understanding on 
 the point. I told her so one day, and all the 
 answer I got consisted of a laugh and a blush." 
 
 It could have been nothing to the blush 
 that rose to Kobert's face now ; brow, ears, 
 neck, were dyed blood-red. The terrible con- 
 sciousness of how untrue this was, how untrue 
 it w^as obliged to be, was smiting him with re- 
 proachful sting. Mr. Grubb mistook the signs. 
 
136 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ^' I think," he said, ^' that former parting 
 was a mistake. It was perfectly right and 
 just that Mrs. Dahymple should have been 
 
 well provided for, but " 
 
 *'You think I should have taken Moat 
 Grange myself, and procured another home 
 for my mother," interrupted Eobert. ''Most 
 people do think so. But, if you knew how I 
 hated the sight of the Grange ! — never a 
 single room of it but my poor dead father's 
 face seemed to rise up to confront me." 
 
 "It might have been best that you should 
 remain in your own home ; we will not dis- 
 cuss it now. What I want to say is this — 
 that if you and Mary have been really living 
 upon hope, I don't see why you need live 
 upon it any longer. A portion of your own 
 revenues you may surely claim, a few hun- 
 dreds yearly ; and Mary shall bring as much 
 grist to the mill on her side." 
 
 "You are very kind, very thoughtful," 
 murmured Eobert. 
 
 "But there must be a proviso to that," 
 continued Mr. Grubb. " Reports have reached 
 me that Robert Dalrymple is going headlong 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. 137 
 
 to the bad — pardon me if I speak out tlie 
 whispers freely — that he is becoming reckless, 
 a gamester, I know not what all. I do not 
 believe this, Eobert ; I do not wish to believe 
 it. I have seen nothing to confirm it, myself; 
 yon are in one set of London men, I am in 
 another. In a young man situated as you 
 are, alone, without home-ties, some latitude of 
 conduct may be pardoned; if he be a good 
 man and true, he will soon pull himself 
 straight again. If you can assure me on your 
 honour it is nothing more than this, well and 
 good. If it be more — if the worst of the 
 whispers but indicate the truth, you cannot of 
 course think of Mary. Eobert, I say I leave 
 this to your honour." 
 
 '' I should like to pull myself up beyond 
 any earthly thing," spoke the young man in 
 a flash of what looked far more like despair 
 than hope. *' If I could do it — and if Mary 
 were my wife — I — I should have no fear. Let 
 us talk of this another day. Let me see her ! '* 
 
 Mary was just then alone in what they 
 called the grey drawing-room. A lovely 
 room ; as indeed all the rooms were in Mr. 
 
138 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Grnbb's house, made so by him m his love for 
 his wife. He went in search of his wife, 
 giving Eobert the opportunity of seeing Mary 
 alone. 
 
 Let no woman go to the altar cherishing 
 dislike or contempt of him w^ho is to be her 
 husband. Marriages of indifference are made 
 in plenty, and in time they may become unions 
 of affection. But the other ! — it is the most 
 fatal mistake that can be made. Lady Adela 
 treated her husband with scorn, did so sijs- 
 tematically ; she did not attempt to conceal her 
 dislike ; she threw his love back upon him. 
 On the very day of their marriage, when 
 she, in what appeared to be a fit of petulance, 
 drew dow^n all the blinds of the chariot as they 
 drove away from Lord Acorn's door, and he, 
 taking advantage of the privacy, laid his hand 
 on hers, and bent to whisper a word of love, 
 perhaps to take a kiss from her cheek, she 
 effectually repressed him. '* Pray do not 
 attempt these — endearments," she said in a 
 scornful tone, " they are not agreeable." Fran- 
 cis Grubb drew back to his corner of the car- 
 riage, and a bitter blight fell upon his spirit. 
 
ALL DOWN HILL. I39 
 
 Just now, and for some months past, Lady 
 Adela had been pale and thin, sick and ill. 
 She resented the indisposition strongly, for it 
 prevented her joining in the gaiety she loved, 
 and went about wishing fretfully that her baby 
 was born. 
 
 "Oh, Eobert! miertl " 
 
 Mary Lynn had started up with the cry, so 
 surprised was she to see him enter. She 
 stood blushing even to tears. And Eobert? 
 Conscious how unworthy he was of her, how 
 impossible it was that he should dare to claim 
 her, while the love within him was beating on 
 liis heart with lively pain, he sat down with 
 a groan and covered his face with his hands. 
 She thought he was ill. She went to him 
 and knelt down, and looked up at him in 
 appealing fear. 
 
 " Eobert, what is — what is amiss ?'* 
 
 And for answer, Eobert Dalrymple, utterly 
 overcome by the vivid sense of the remorseful 
 past, of the despair for the future, let his face 
 fall upon her shoulder, and burst into a fit of 
 those heart-rending sobs which are so terrible 
 for a man to shed. 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 DESPERATION. 
 
 A LONE in the oak-parlour at Moat Grange, 
 playing soft bits of melody in the 
 »summer twilight, sat Selina Dalrymple, her 
 very pretty face slightly flushed, her bright 
 hair pushed from her face. Ordinarily of a 
 calm and equable temperament, Selina was 
 yet rather given to work herself up to rest- 
 lessness on occasion. She was expecting 
 Oscar Dalrymple ; and though the excite- 
 ment did not arise for himself, it did for the 
 news he might bring. 
 
 *' There he is ! " she cried, as a step was 
 heard on the gravel. '' He has w^alked up 
 from the station." 
 
 Oscar Dalrymple came in, very quiet as 
 usual, not a speck of dust or other sign of 
 travel upon him, looking spick and span as 
 thouo'h he had but come out of the next 
 
D ESP ERA TION. 1 4 1 
 
 room. Oscar Dalrymple's place, a small 
 patrimony called Knutford, lay some three or 
 four miles off; he would probably walk on 
 there by-and-by, if he did not sleep at the 
 Grange. 
 
 ^' I thought you would come ! '' exclaimed 
 Selina, gladly springing towards him. 
 
 " I told Mrs. Dalrymple I should return 
 before Saturday/' was his answer, as he took 
 her hand, and kept it in his. '' Where is 
 she?" 
 
 "• Gone with Alice to dine at Court Nether- 
 leigh," replied Selina. '^ I sent an excuse : 
 I was impatient to see you.'' 
 
 *' Thank you, Selina," he whispered, in a 
 low, warm tone. " That is a great admission 
 from vou." 
 
 %j 
 
 " Not ic> see ijou ; but for what you might 
 have to tell," she hastened to say. '^ Oscar, 
 how vain you are ! " 
 
 She sat down in the bow-window, in what 
 remaining light there was, and he took a 
 chair opposite to her. Then she asked him 
 his news. 
 
 ^' Do you know exactly why I went up ?" 
 
142 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 he iuquirecl with some hesitation, in doubt 
 how far he ought to speak. 
 
 ^^I know all," she answered pointedly. 
 *'I saw Eenben's letter to mamma ; and her 
 fears are my fears. We keep it from poor 
 Alice.^^ 
 
 In a hushed voice, beiittiug the subject and 
 the twilight hour, Oscar related to her what 
 he had gathered in London. The very worst 
 impression lay on his own mind : namely, 
 that Robert was going rapidly to the dogs, 
 money and honour and peace, and all ; nay, 
 had already gone ; but he did not make the 
 worst of it to Selina. He said that Eobert 
 seemed to be on a downward course and 
 would not listen to any sort of reason. 
 
 Selina sat in dismay ; her soft dark eyes 
 fixed on the evening sky, her hands clasped 
 on the dress of blue silk she wore. The 
 evening star shone in the heavens. 
 
 '' What will be the end of it, Oscar ? " 
 
 Oscar did not immediately answer. The 
 end of it, as he fully believed, would be ruin. 
 Utter ruin for Eobert ; and that would involve 
 ruin for his mother and sisters. 
 
D ESP ERA TION. 1 43 
 
 *' Do3s Eoberfc really play y pursued 
 Selina. 
 
 *'I fear he does. Yes." 
 
 '^ Could — could lie play away our home — 
 Moat Grange?" 
 
 '' For his own life. That is, morto'ao-e its 
 revenues." 
 
 *' But you don't, surely, /^ar it will come 
 to this ?" she cried in agitation. 
 
 '' Selina, I hardly know what I fear. 
 Eobert is not my brother, and I could not — I 
 had no right — to question too closely. Neither, 
 if I had questioned, and — and heard the 
 worst — do I see what I could have done. 
 Matters have gone too far for any aid, any 
 suggestion, that I could have given." 
 
 *' What would become of us ? Poor 
 mamma ! Poor Alice ! Oh, what a trouble." 
 
 '' You, at least, can escape the trouble, 
 Selina; you can let me take you out of it. 
 My home is not the luxurious home you have 
 been accustomed to here ; but it will afford 
 you every comfort — if you will but come to 
 it. Oh, my love, why do you let me plead to 
 you so long in vain ! " 
 
144 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Selina Dalrymple pouted her prett}^ red 
 lips. Oscar loved her to folly. She did not 
 discourage him ; did not absolutely encourage 
 him. She liked him very well, and she liked 
 his homage, for she was one of the vainest 
 girls living ; but, as to marrying him ? — that 
 was another thing. Had he possessed the 
 rent-roll of a duke, she would have had him 
 to-morrow ; his income was a small one, and 
 she loved pomp and show. 
 
 " Now, Oscar ! " she remonstrated, putting 
 him off as usual. "Is it a time to bring 
 in that nonsense, when we are talking and 
 thinking of poor Robert ? — And here come 
 mamma and Alice, for that's Miss Upton's 
 carriage bringing them. They said they 
 should be home early.'' 
 
 And now we have to go back some few 
 hours. It is very inconvenient, as the world 
 knows, to tell two portions of a stor}^ at one 
 and the same time. 
 
 Turnino' out of one of the handsomest 
 houses in Grosvenor Square, in the bright 
 sunshine of this same Friday afternoon in 
 
D ESP ERA TION. 1 45 
 
 June, went Eobert Dalrymple, his step spirit- 
 less, a look of perplexity and pain on his 
 young and attractive face. He had been 
 saying farewell to Mary Lynn, and he felt, 
 in his despairing heart, that it must be for 
 life. Just a hint he whispered to her of the 
 worst — that he had been heedless and reck- 
 less, and was ruined ; but, woman-like, fond, 
 confiding woman, she had told him she never 
 would believe it, and if it was so, there 
 existed all the more reason for her clino-ino: 
 to him. 
 
 Ah, if it only might be ! If the prospect 
 just suggested to him by that good man, 
 Francis Grubb, might only be realised ! If 
 he could pull up at any cost, and enter upon a 
 peaceful life ! IJ I None knew better than 
 himself that there was no chance of it. All 
 he had was gone — and, had not Mr. Grubb left 
 it to his honour ? 
 
 Eobert Dalrymple was ruined. Bitterly 
 was the fact impressing itself upon him^ as 
 he walked there under the summer sunlight. 
 Not only were all liis available funds spent, 
 but he had entered into liabilities thick and 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 threefold, far beyond what the rent-roll at the 
 Grange would be sufficient to meet. He had 
 told Oscar Dalrymple this very morning that 
 he did not play much the previous night. 
 Oscar did not believe it, but it was true. 
 Why did he not play much ? Because he 
 had nothing left to play with, and had sat 
 gloomy and morose, looking on at the other 
 players. Introduced to the evil fascinations 
 of play by Colonel Haughton, he was drawn 
 on until the unhappy mania took hold upon 
 himself. To remain away from the gambling - 
 table for one night would have been intoler- 
 able, for the feverish disease was raging 
 within him. Poor infatuated man ! — poor 
 infatuated men, all of them, who thus lose 
 themselves ! — he w^as positively still indulging 
 a vision of success and hope. Every time 
 that he approached the pernicious table, it 
 was rife within him, buoying him up, and 
 urging him on — that luck might turn in his 
 favour, and he might win the Grange back — 
 or, rather, the money he had lost upon it. 
 Thus it is with all gamblers who are com- 
 paratively fresh to the vice ; only the vile 
 
DESPERATION. 147 
 
 old sinners such as Colonel Haughton and 
 his confederate, Piggott, know what such is 
 worth. The ignis-fatuus, delusive hope, 
 beckoning ever onwards, lures them to their 
 destruction. Pandora's box, you know, con- 
 tained every imaginable evil, but Hope lay at 
 the bottom. Even now, as Robert is walking 
 to South Audley Street, a feverish gleam of 
 hope is positively rising up within him. If 
 he had but money to go to the tables that 
 night, who knew but the luck might turn, 
 and he could extricate himself from his most 
 pressing debts, and so be able to tell the 
 whole truth to Mr. Grubb ? — and how care- 
 fully he would avoid all evil in future, when 
 Mary should be his wife ! But — where was 
 the use of conjuring up these fantastic visions, 
 he asked himself, as he flung himself into a 
 chair in his sitting-room, when he had no 
 money to stake ? 
 
 Everything was . gone, every available 
 thing ; he had nothing left but the watch he 
 had about him, and the ring he wore — and a 
 few loose shillings in his pocket. Nothing 
 whatever, in the house, or out of it. 
 
148 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Yes, he had. But it was not his. Farmer 
 Lee, wishing to invest a few hundred pounds 
 in the funds, had prayed his young landlord 
 to transact the business for him, and save 
 him a journey to London. Kobert good- 
 naturedly acquiesced. Had any man told him 
 he could touch that money for his own pur- 
 poses, he w^ould have knocked the offender 
 down in his indignation. The cheque, for 
 the money to be transferred, had come from 
 Mr. Lee that morning. There it lay now^, on 
 the table at his elbow, and there sat Eobert, 
 striving to turn his covetous eyes from it, 
 yet unable, for it was beginning to bear for 
 him the fascination of the basilisk. He 
 wished it was in the midst of some blazing 
 fire, rather than lying there to tempt him. 
 For the notion had seized upon his mind that 
 it was with this money, if he might dare to 
 stake it, he might win back a portion of what 
 he had lost. With a shudder he shook off 
 the idea, and looked at his watch. Was it 
 too late to take the cheque to its destination ? 
 Yes, it was ; the afternoon was waning, and 
 business places would be closed, Eobert felt 
 
DESPERATION. 149 
 
 half inclined to hand it to Eeuben, and tell 
 him to keep it in safety. 
 
 While in this frame of mind, that choice 
 friend of his, Mr. Piggott, honoured him 
 with a call. Whether that worthy gentleman 
 scented the presence of the cheque, or heard 
 of it casually from Kobert, who was candid to 
 a fault, certain it was that he did not leave 
 Eobert afterwards, but sat with him until the 
 dinner hour, and then took him out to dine. 
 Robert locked up the cheque in his desk 
 before he went. 
 
 About eleven o'clock he came home again, 
 heated with wine. Opening his desk, he 
 snatched out the cheque and hid it away in 
 his breast-pocket, as if it were something he 
 had a horror of looking at. Piggott and 
 Colonel Haughton had plied him with some- 
 thing besides wine : alluring hopes. Turning 
 to leave the room, buttoning his coat over 
 what it contained, he saw Pieuben standing 
 there. 
 
 *' Mr. Robert ! — Do not go out again to- 
 night." 
 
 Robert stared at the man. 
 
I50 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 " Sir, I carried you in my arms when you 
 were a child ; your father, the very day he 
 died, tokl me to give you a word of warning, 
 if I saw you going wrong ; let that be my 
 excuse for speaking to you as you may think 
 I have no right to do," pleaded Reuben, the 
 tears standing in his faithful old eyes. '^ Do 
 not go out again, sir ; for this night, at any 
 rate, stay away from the set, they are nothing 
 but blacklegs. There's that Piggott waiting 
 for you outside the door." 
 
 " Eeuben, don't be a fool. How dare you 
 say my friends are blacklegs ?" 
 
 '' They are so, sir. And you are losing 
 your substance to them ; and it won't be 
 their fault if they don't get it all." 
 
 Robert, eager to go out to his ruin, hot 
 with wine, would not waste more words. He 
 moved to the door, but Reuben moved more 
 quickly than he, and stood with his back 
 against it. 
 
 ** What farce is this ? " cried Robert, in his 
 temper. *^ Stand away from the door, or I 
 shall be tempted to fling you from it," 
 
 '* Oh, sir, hear reason!" and the man's 
 
DESPERA TION. i :; i 
 
 manner was so painfully urgent, that a lialf 
 doubt crossed his master's mind whether he 
 could know w^hat it was he was about to 
 stake. '^ Three or four and twenty years ago, 
 Mr. Eobert — I'm not sure as to a year — I 
 stood, in like manner, praying your uncle 
 Claude not to go out to his ruin. He had 
 come to London, sir, as fine and generous a 
 young man as you, and the gamblers got hold 
 of him, and drew him into their ways, and 
 stuck to him like a leech, till all he had was 
 gone. Moat Grange was played away, mort- 
 gaged, or bartered, or whatever it might be, 
 for the term of his life ; there's a clause in 
 its deeds, as I take it you know, sir, that 
 prevents its owner from encumbering it for 
 longer — and, perhaps, that's usual with other 
 estates " 
 
 '* You are an idiot, Keuben," interrupted 
 Eobert, his tone less fierce. 
 
 ** A night came when Mr. Claude was half 
 mad," continued Eeuben, unheeding the in- 
 terruption. **I saw he was; and I stood 
 before him, and prayed him not to go out 
 with them, as I am nov/ praying you. It 
 
15:: COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 was of no use, and he went. If I tell you 
 what that night brought forth, sir, will you 
 I'egard it as a warning ? " 
 
 ''What did it bring forth?'' demanded 
 Kobert, arrested to interest. 
 
 " I will tell you, sir, if you will take warn- 
 ing by it, and break with those gamblers this 
 night, and never go amongst them more. 
 AVill you promise, Mr. Eobert ? " 
 
 " Out of the way, Eeuben," was the im- 
 patient rejoinder. " You are getting into your 
 dotage. If you have nothing to tell me, let 
 
 me go.'' 
 
 ''Listen, then," cried Eeuben, bending his 
 head forward, in his excitement. "At three 
 o'clock that same morning, Mr. Dalrymple 
 returned. He had been half mad, I say, 
 when he went, he was Avholly mad when he 
 came back ; mad with despair and despond- 
 ency. He came in, his head down, his steps 
 lagging, and went into his bedroom. I went 
 to mine, and was undressing, when he called 
 me back. He had got his portmanteau from 
 against the wall, opened it, and was stand- 
 ing over it, looking in, his coat and cravat 
 
DESPERA TION. 1 53 
 
 off, and the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. 
 *Keuben/ said he, 'I have made up my 
 mind to leave London and take a journey.' 
 
 ^^^Down to the Grange, sir?' I asked, 
 my heart leaping within me at the good news. 
 
 " ^ No, not to the Grange this time; it's 
 farther than that. But as I have not in- 
 formed anyone of my intentions, I must leave 
 a word with you, in case I am inquired 
 after.' 
 
 " ^ Am I not to attend you, sir ? ' I inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 ** 'No, I shan't want you particularly,' he 
 answered ; ' you'll do more good here. Tell 
 all who may inquire for me, and especially 
 my brother' (your father, sir, you know), 'that 
 although they may think I did wrong to start 
 alone on a road where I have never been, 
 I am obliged to do so. I cannot help myself. 
 Tell them I deliberated upon it before making 
 up my mind, and that I undertake it in the 
 possession of all my faculties and senses.' 
 Those were the words." 
 
 "Well," cried Eobert, impatient for the 
 end of the tale. 
 
154 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 '^ I found these words somewhat strange/' 
 continued Eeuben, *'but his true meaning 
 never struck me — Oh," wailed the old man, 
 clasping his hands, '^it never struck me. My 
 thoughts only turned to Scotland ; for my 
 master had been talking of going there to see 
 a Scotch laird, a friend of his, and I believed 
 he had now taken a sudden resolution to pay 
 the visit; I thought he had pulled out his 
 trunk to put in some things before I packed 
 it. I asked him when he intended to start, 
 and he replied that I should know all in the 
 morning ; and I went back to my bed." 
 
 Eobert sat down on the nearest chair : his 
 eyes were strained on Eeuben. Had he a 
 foreshadowing of what was to come ? 
 
 ' ' In the morning one of the women ser- 
 vants came and woke me. Her face startled 
 me the moment I opened my eyes ; it was 
 white and terror-stricken, and she asked me 
 what that stream of red meant that had 
 trickled from under the door of the master's 
 chamber. I went there when I had put a 
 thing or two on. Master Eobert," he added, 
 dropping his voice to a dread whisper, his 
 
DESPERATION. 155 
 
 thouglits wholly back in the x^ast, ''he had 
 indeed gone on his long journey." 
 
 "Was he dead?" 
 
 " He had been dead for hours. The razor 
 was lying beside him near the door. I have 
 never quite got over that dreadful sight : 
 and the thought has always haunted me that, 
 had I understood his meaning properly, it 
 might have been prevented." 
 
 " His trunk — what did he get that out 
 for ? " asked Eobert, after a pause. 
 
 '' To blind me, sir — as I have believed 
 since — while he gave the message." 
 
 '' Why did he commit the deed ? " gloomily 
 continued Eobert, whom the account seemed 
 to have partially sobered. 
 
 "He had fallen into the clutches of the 
 same sort of people that you have, sir, and 
 they had fleeced him down to beggary and 
 shame, and he had not the resolution to leave 
 them, and face the poverty ; that was why 
 he did it. His w^orst enemy was Captain 
 Haughton. He is Colonel Haughton now." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Eobert Dai- 
 ry mple, after a pause of astonishment. 
 
156 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ^^ Yes, sir, the same man. He is your evil 
 genius, and he was your uncle's before you. 
 The last time I saw him, in the old days, 
 was when we both stood together over my 
 master's dead body ; he came in, along with 
 others. 'He must have been stark mad,' 
 was his exclamation. ' Perhaps so, Captain 
 Haughton,' I answered, ' but the guilt lies on 
 those who drove him so.' He took my mean- 
 ing, and he slunk av/ay out of the room. Mr. 
 Eobert," added the old man, the tears stream- 
 ing down his cheeks, " do you know what I 
 like to fancy — and to hope ? " 
 
 Eobert lifted his eyes. 
 
 " Why, that the imnisliment will lie with 
 these wretched tempters, as w^ell as the guilt. 
 The good God is just and merciful." 
 
 Eobert did not speak. Eeuben resumed. 
 
 '' The first time that Haughton called here 
 upon you, sir, I knew him, and he knew me ; 
 and I don't think he liked it. He has never 
 come here himself since ; I don't know 
 whether you've noticed it, sir, he has sent 
 that Piggott — the man that's waiting for you 
 outside now. Mr. Eobert, you had better 
 
DESPERA TION. 1 57 
 
 have fallen into the meshes of the Fiend him- 
 self than into that man, Haughton's." 
 
 ** My uncle must have been insane when 
 he did that," broke from Robert Dalrymple. 
 
 " The jury said otherwise," sadly answered 
 Reuben. "They brought it in felo-de-se; 
 and he was buried by torchlight, without the 
 burial service." 
 
 The news had told upon Robert. His mind 
 just then was a chaos. Nothing tangible 
 showing out of it, save that his plight was as 
 bad as his uncle Claude's had been, and that 
 he was looking, in his infatuation, for that 
 night to redeem it. Could he go on with his 
 work — with that example before him ? For 
 a while he sat thinking, his head bent, his 
 €yes closed ; then he rose up, and signed to 
 Reuben to let him pass. The latter's spirit 
 sank within him. 
 
 '' Is what I have told you of no avail, Mr. 
 Robert ? Are you still bent on going forth 
 to those wicked men ? It will be your ruin.'* 
 
 **It is that already, Reuben. As it was 
 with my uncle, so it is with me : I am ruined, 
 and worse than ruined, and after to-night I 
 
158 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 will know Colonel Haugliton no more. But 
 I had resolved to make one desperate effort 
 this night to redeem myself; something 
 whispers to me that I shall have luck ; and — 
 and you don't know how much lies upon it." 
 
 He was thinking of his union with Mary 
 Lynn, poor infatuated man. Could he redeem 
 himself in a degree this night, he would dis- 
 close his position to Mr. Grubb, entreat his 
 condonation of the past, and forswear play for 
 ever. A tempting prospect. Nevertheless, 
 the tale had staggered him. 
 
 *' Don't go, don't go, Mr. Robert. I ask 
 you on my bended knees." 
 
 *' Get up, Eeuben ! don't be fooHsh. Per- 
 haps I will not go. But I must tell Piggott: 
 I cannot keep him w^aiting there all night." 
 
 Pieuben could do no more. He stood aside, 
 and his young master went forth, hesitating^ 
 
 What strange infatuation could it have been, 
 that it should so cling to him ? Anyone who 
 has never been drawn into the fiery vortex of 
 gambling would have a difficulty in under- 
 standing it. Robert Dalrymple was a des- 
 perate man, and yet a hopeful one, for this 
 
D ESP ERA riON. 1 59 
 
 niglit might lift liim out of despair. More- 
 over, the feverish yearning for play, in itself, 
 was strong upon him : as it always was now 
 at that night hour. As yet, the penalty he 
 had incurred was but embarrassment and 
 poverty : he was now about to stake what was 
 not his, and risk guilt. And yet, ]u icent forth : 
 for the dreadful vice had got fast hold of 
 him ; and he knew that the hesitation in his 
 mind was but worthless hesitation ; a species 
 of sophistry. 
 
 Mr. Piggott had been cooling his heels and 
 his patience outside, not blessing his young 
 friend for the unnecessary and unexpected 
 delay, and not doing the opposite. He was 
 of too equable a nature to curse and swear : 
 he left that to his peppery partner, Haughton. 
 
 " I thought you were gone to bed," he 
 said, when Kobert appeared: ''in another 
 minute I should have come in to see after 
 you." 
 
 And it was a wonder he did not go in. 
 But Colonel Haughton had vvhispered a word 
 of caution as to Eeuben, and neither of them 
 cared to pursue the master too persistently in 
 
i6o COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the man's sight. Eobert Dalrymple spoke 
 of his hesitation, saying he was not sure he 
 should play that night. He did want to keep 
 the farce of prudence up, even to himself. 
 
 ' ' You have got that cheque in your pocket, 
 I suppose ? " sharply questioned Piggott. 
 
 '^Yes. But " 
 
 '* Come on, then ; well talk of it as we go 
 along.'' And Eobert linked his arm within 
 Mr. Piggott's and walked on in the direction 
 of Jermyn Street. 
 
 They entered the "hell." It is not a 
 pleasant word for polite pens and ears, but it is 
 an exceedingly appropriate one. It w^as blaz- 
 ing with light, and as hot as as its name ; 
 
 and fiery countenances of impassioned triumph, 
 and agonised countenances of vacillating sus- 
 pense, and sullen countenances of despair 
 were crowding there. Colonel Haughton was 
 in a private room : it was mostly kept for 
 himself and his friends, a choice knot of 
 whom stood around. Poor Eobert's infatua- 
 tion, under Mr. Piggott's able tuition, had 
 returned upon him. Down he sat at the 
 green cloth, wild and eager. 
 
DESPERATION. i6i 
 
 *^It is of no use to make fools of us/' 
 whispered Colonel Haughton. '*You know 
 you do not possess another stiver ; why take 
 up a place ? '' 
 
 *^ Now, Haughton, you are too stringent," 
 benevolently interposed Mr. Piggott, laying 
 hold of the Colonel's arm, and giving it a 
 peculiar pinch. "Here is D airy mple, with 
 an impression that luck will be upon him to- 
 night, a conviction of it, indeed, and you are 
 afraid of giving him his revenge. It is his 
 turn to win now. As to stakes, he says ha 
 has something with him that will do." 
 
 Eobert drew the cheque from his pocket, 
 and dashed it before Colonel Haughton. '' I 
 am prepared to stake this," he said. " No- 
 thing risk, nothing win. Luck must favour 
 me to-night. Even Piggott says so, and he 
 knows how bad it has been." 
 
 Colonel Haughton ran his spectacles over 
 the cheque. " I see," he said : '* it will do.^ 
 The risking it is your business, not ours." 
 
 *^ Of course it is mine," answered Robert, 
 
 " Then put your signature to it. Here, by 
 the side of the other." 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
i62 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 It was done, and they sat down to play. 
 " Nothing risk, nothing win," Eobert had 
 said : he had better have said, *' Nothing risk, 
 nothing lose ;" and have acted upon it. A 
 little past midnight, he went staggering out 
 of that house, a doomed man. All was over, 
 all lost. Farmer Lee's money, or the cheque 
 Tepresenting it, had passed out of his pos- 
 session, and he was a criminal. A criminal 
 in the sight of himself, soon to be a criminal 
 in the sight of the world ; liable to be arrested 
 and tried at the bar of Justice, a common 
 felon. 
 
 He had tasted nothing since he entered, 
 yet he reeled about the pavement like one 
 who is the worse for drink. What was to 
 become of him ? Involuntarily the fate his 
 unfortunate uncle Claude had resorted to came 
 across his mind : nay, it had not been away 
 from it. Even in the mad turmoil of that 
 last hour, when the suspense was awful to 
 bear, and hope and dread had fought with 
 each other as a meeting whirlwind, the facts 
 of that dark history had been thrusting them- 
 selves forward. 
 
DESPERA TION, 1 63 
 
 His face was burning without, and liis brain 
 was burning within. It was a remarkably 
 windy night, and he took off his hat and 
 suffered the breeze to blow on his miserable 
 brow. And so he paced the streets, going 
 from home, not to it. Where couU he go ? 
 he with the brand of crime and shame upon 
 him ? He got to Charing Cross, and there he 
 halted, and listened to the different clocks 
 striking one. Should he turn back to South 
 Audley Street ? And encounter Eeuben, who 
 had tried to save him, and had failed ? And 
 go to bed, and wait, with what calmness he 
 might, till the law claimed him ? Hardly. 
 Anywhere but home. The breeze was 
 stronger now : it blew from the direction of 
 the water. Eobert Dalrymple replaced his 
 hat, pulled it firmly on his head to hide his 
 eyes from the night, and dragged his steps 
 towards Westminster Bridge. 
 
 Of all places in the world ! — the bridge and 
 the tempting stream !— what evil power im- 
 pelled him thither ? 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 THE BABY. 
 
 TN the bed of a large and luxurious chamber, 
 her delicate face pressing the pillow, her 
 eyes closed to the shaded light, lay Lady 
 Adela Grubb. The baby she so wished for 
 had come at last. Not that it was the baby 
 itself she wanted, but that she might be at 
 liberty through renewed health to mingle with 
 the great w^orld again. To be deprived of its 
 gaiety and obliged to keep herself very much 
 at home had been to her a species of in- 
 tolerable thraldom. 
 
 The baby was born on Friday night : a few 
 hours subsequent to Eobert Dalrymple's inter- 
 view with Mr. Grubb and Mary Lynn. Mary, 
 only in Grosvenor Square for the afternoon, 
 returned to Blackheath unconscious of the 
 close approach of the event. The illness had 
 been a favourable one ; and Adela, on this 
 
THE BABY. 165 
 
 Sunday morning, was going on well towards 
 recovery. She had taken her breakfast, and 
 was ready to see her husband. The doctor 
 had but now gone out. 
 
 A wee cry from the cradle yonder caused 
 her to open her eyes. An elderly woman, 
 with soft step, bent over the cradle, and would 
 have hushed the baby to sleep again. 
 
 '* Put him here, nurse. I want to look at 
 him.'' 
 
 The nurse took up the white bundle, and 
 laid it in the great bed, beside Lady Adela. 
 The little pale face was turned to her ; for it 
 was a pale face, not a red one ; and she lay 
 looking at it. The child opened its eyes : 
 and, young though it was, one could see it 
 had the beautiful grey-blue eyes of its father. 
 Her own brilliant yet soft brown eyes grew 
 fond as she gazed on the still face. 
 
 " Is he quite healthy, nurse ? " she sud- 
 denly asked. 
 
 For the space of half a moment the nurse 
 hesitated. ''He was born quite healthy, my 
 lady ; but I think he might get on better if 
 you nursed him. Some infants require their 
 
1 66 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 mother more than others do. I suspect this 
 one does.'' 
 
 She made no reply ; except by a toss of 
 the head, all but imperceptible : one can't 
 toss effectively lying do^vn. There had been 
 some trouble with Lady Adela on the score of 
 nursing the child. Nothing would induce 
 her to do it. It would be well for her and 
 well for the little one, Dr. Dove had said. 
 Adela would not listen. Her mother, Lady 
 Acorn, had treated her to a sharp scolding 
 the day before, Saturday, and told her she 
 was *^ unnatural." All the same : Adela 
 indignantly demanded whether they thought 
 she should give up the season for any infant 
 in the world. She was also obstinate on 
 another score — she would not allow, would 
 not hear of, a nurse being sought to supply 
 her place. And there she lay this morning ; 
 her own head on one pillow, the child's on 
 another. One of the windows was open 
 behind the drawn blind, admitting a breath of 
 the warm June air. On a stand at Lady 
 Adela's elbow lay a bouquet of sweet-scented, 
 lovely hot-house flowers. 
 
THE BABY, 167 
 
 *' Little wee thing?" she fondly cried, 
 stretching out her fingers to stroke the baby's 
 soft face, and its fragile hand that lay so 
 still. 
 
 A tap at the door. The nurse answered it 
 and admitted Mr. Grubb ; she herself then 
 retiring to the next room, which opened from 
 this one. He came to the bed, bent over his 
 wife, and gently kissed her. 
 
 ** Oh, don't!" she cried, twisting her cheek 
 ungraciously from him, just as she had mostly 
 done ever since their wedding-day. It had. 
 grown into a habit now. 
 
 ** Adela," he whispered, biting his trembling 
 lips to keep down the pain, '* should not this 
 little treasure, our child, teach you to be more 
 of a loving wife to me ? " 
 
 ** I am very sorry it has come," she 
 answered in a fretful tone. '' I'm sure I 
 shall be if they are going to worry me over it. 
 You should hear mamma go on! — and Grace, 
 too ! — with their old-fashioned notions." 
 
 '^No one shall worry you," he fondly said. 
 **Tell me, Adela, what you would like his 
 name to be." 
 
i68 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' His name ! '* she repeated, looking 
 up in quick surprise. '^ Time enough for 
 that." 
 
 •*Dr. Dove thinks it may be as well to 
 have him baptised. He came into the library 
 just now as he went out ; and in talking of 
 one thing and another, he chanced to mention 
 this/* Chanced to mention this ! Mr. Grubb 
 was cautious not to alarm his wife. 
 
 ^' The baby is not ill ! Is it ? " 
 
 *' No, no, I trust not, Adela. It is a deli- 
 cate little thing; all babies are, perhaps: and 
 — and it is as well, you know, to be on the 
 safe side." 
 
 '^But I should like a christening. A 
 oTand, proper christening ; to be held when I 
 get well." 
 
 " Of course. His being baptised now will 
 make no difference to that. I think it must 
 be done, my dear." 
 
 **In this room, then; by my bed-side. I 
 should like to see it." 
 
 *' You shall. And now, what name ? " 
 
 Adela lay back on the pillow, her cheeks 
 slightly flushed with their delicate pink, fresh 
 
THE BABY. 169 
 
 and pure as the hue of a sea-shell, her eyes 
 cast upwards in thought. 
 
 ** I should like it to have papa's name^ 
 George." 
 
 *' George Frederick ? '' 
 
 ''Not Frederick: I don't care ahout the 
 name. George — would you like also your 
 own name — Francis? " she broke off to ask. 
 ** George Francis ? " 
 
 ''Would you care to have it Francis?" 
 he returned, his tone one of emotion, bend- 
 ing over her until his face nearly touched 
 hers. 
 
 She heard the tone, she saw the wet eye- 
 lashes shading the wonderful grey eyes, with 
 their yearning, earnest expression. It flashed 
 into her mind to remember how few men were 
 his compeers, in good looks, in worth, in 
 loving indulgence to a rebellious wife. Adela 
 was not quite proof against her better nature. 
 She was not always hard. 
 
 " Yes, I should ; and he has your eyes,'' 
 she whispered softly, in answer to the question, 
 her own eyes lifted to her husband's. 
 
 "Adela," he breathed, his voice low with 
 
I70 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 its agitation, ** you do love me a little! You 
 surely do ! '* 
 
 *^Just a very little — sometimes," she 
 whispered in a half saucy, half loving tone. 
 And, when he let his face fall on hers, she for 
 once held it there, and welcomed the kisses 
 from his lips. 
 
 It was all the work of the baby, his child 
 and hers, thought he in his glad heart. But 
 no. Now and again, at rare intervals, Adela 
 did feel a spark of tenderness for him : though 
 instead of letting it come to fruit, of allowing 
 him to see it, she forced it back to the cold- 
 ness she had taken up, and resolutely steeled 
 her heart against him. Illness had just now 
 somewhat softened her spirit. 
 
 He went round the bed to the side where 
 the baby lay, and looked at it long and 
 earnestly. The doctor had just told him that 
 he did not feel altogether easy on the score of 
 the child; could not be sure that it was likely 
 to live. 
 
 **It is a pale little blossom, Adela. I 
 thought babies were generally red." 
 
 ** Frightfully red. I have seen them." 
 
THE BABY. 171 
 
 ** Well, we will get it baptised ; and 
 then " 
 
 *' What ? " she cried — for he had stopped. 
 
 *' And then, I was going to say, whether it 
 lives or dies it will be safe in its Saviour's 
 arms." 
 
 ''But you do not thinli it will die?" she 
 cried, picking up some alarm. "Oh, Francis, 
 I should not like him to die, now he has 
 come ! " 
 
 He went round to soothe her, the word 
 '* Francis " causing his heart to leap. For in 
 a general way she persistently called him 
 '' Mr. Grubb," and not graciously either. 
 
 *' My darling, I assure you there is no 
 cause for alarm. So far as I know, the child 
 is not ill ; it will, I hope, do well. Dr. Dove 
 does not think him particularly strong — but 
 what can be expected of a two-day old 
 baby?" 
 
 ''True," answered Adela, feeling reassured 
 again. ** Francis, I do believe there's mamma 
 coming up ! Yes, it is her voice. Mind you 
 don't tell her " 
 
 Lady Acorn came swiftly in; and, what he 
 
172 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 was not to tell her, Mr. Grubb never knew. 
 She had dressed early for church, and came 
 round to see Adela on her way to it. Grace 
 was with her. One of the daughters had 
 married during the past year, but it was not 
 Grace. It was Harriet ; she had espoused 
 a little Scotch laird, Sir Sandy Maclvor. 
 Peppery and red, in came the Countess, for 
 she had just heard something that vexed her; 
 Lady Grace, so calm and still, presented a 
 contrast to her vivacious mother. 
 
 *' Well, and now what's this I hear about 
 things not going on well?" began Lady 
 Acorn, subduing her voice with difficulty to 
 the requisition of a sick room. 
 
 **I am going on very well, mamma — how 
 do you mean ? " returned Adela, assuming 
 the doubt must apply to herself. ^* I have 
 made a famous breakfast. They let me have 
 an ^gg and some buttered toast." 
 
 ** You are all right, Dove says — we have 
 just met him," returned Lady Acorn. ''But 
 he does not think the baby is. And you have 
 yourself to thank for it, Adela." 
 
 The pink tinge on Lady Adela's cheeks 
 
THE BABY. 173 
 
 increased to rose colour, as she armed herself 
 to do battle with her mother. 
 
 *^Dove says the baby wants its proper 
 food ; not that gruel stuff, or milk-and-water, 
 or whatever rubbish it is, that it is being 
 dosed with. And it is not too late for you ta 
 reform, Adela, and do what you ought.'' 
 
 *' It is too late," retorted Adela, with 
 flaming cheeks. *^ And if you begin about it 
 again, mamma, you will make me ill. 
 Francis " — stretching out her arm for her 
 husband — ^' don't let me be worried. You 
 promised me, you know." 
 
 With a loving word to his wife, a reassur- 
 ing pressure of her hand, which he kept in 
 his, he turned to Lady Acorn and spoke to 
 her in a low tone. 
 
 *' Talk to her when she's better and more 
 able to bear it ! " repeated the Countess, 
 taking up his words aloud. '' Why, my good 
 man, it would be too late. And — you do not 
 want to lose your child, I suppose ! " 
 
 *' Indeed, I do not. But, better lose my 
 child than my wdfe." 
 
 ^'^ Slfie is well enough, and safe enough," 
 
174 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 spoke the mother, secure in her superior 
 knowledge. **Adela has been an indulged 
 girl all her life, and you, her husband, con- 
 tinue the indulgence. It is not good for her ; 
 mark you that. With regard to this caprice 
 of hers, the not undertaking the poor sickly 
 baby, you ought to hold her to her duty, Mr. 
 Grubb, and insist upon her fulfilling it." 
 
 He turned to his ^Yifey his eyes uncon- 
 sciously wearing a pleading look. ^' If you 
 would but suffer yourself to be persuaded, 
 Adela ! For the child's sake." 
 
 Adela looked at them separately ; at her 
 husband, at her mother, at Grace, standing 
 with a cold and impassive countenance that 
 did not betoken approbation; and she took up 
 a notion that they were in league with one 
 another to ^' hold her to her duty," and en- 
 force obedience. Had not the doctor talked 
 to her that very morning : had not the nurse 
 subsequently presumed to hint at an opinion ? 
 Yes, they were all in league together. Lady 
 Adela turned rebellious, and flung her hus- 
 band's hand away with passionate anger. 
 
 ^' Why do you come into my room at all ? " 
 
THE BABY, I7S 
 
 she exclaimed to him. '* You know I do not 
 want you." 
 
 At that moment the nurse looked in from 
 the adjoining apartment and made a sign to 
 Mr. Grubb. He obeyed it at once, taking no 
 notice of his wife or her cruel words. 
 
 *' There ! you have driven him away now ! " 
 cried Lady Acorn, on the eve of an explosion : 
 for she had not seen the summons of the nurse. 
 '* You will never go to heaven, Adela, for your 
 wickedness to your husband." 
 
 Adela did not make any answer : perhaps 
 she was feeling a little sorry in her heart : and 
 there ensued a silence. The sweet-toned bells, 
 calling people to service, rang out on the air. 
 
 Mr. Grubb came in again. Feeling more 
 alarmed in his heart at the doctor's words 
 than he allowed to appear, and anxious for the 
 child, he had written a note as the medical 
 man left him, and sent it to a young assistant 
 clergyman whose lodgings were hard by. He 
 had now called, on his way to church, ready 
 to perform the ceremony at once if it were 
 wished for, and a servant had come up to 
 inform the nurse. 
 
176 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 '*Mr. Wilkinson has called, and is asking 
 after you/' began Mr. Grubb to his wife, voice 
 and demeanour a model of quietness, not to 
 say indifference. *' It struck me, Adela, that 
 he might as well baptise the child — as he is 
 here. He has time to do it before service.'* 
 
 ^' What a hurry you are in!" she returned, 
 ungraciously. 
 
 *' As well take the opportunity of his being 
 here, Adela. And then it will be over." 
 
 *' Oh, well, yes — if it has to be done," con- 
 ceded she. ^' I'm sure there's no necessity 
 for it. Let Wilkinson come up." 
 
 Lady Acorn's sharp red nose turned of a 
 fine purple. She had listened in surprise. 
 Saying nothing to Adela, she trotted into the 
 dressing-room, and shut the door. 
 
 " What's this, nurse — about the child being 
 baptised ? " 
 
 '' I believe it is going to be done, my lady. 
 Mr. Grubb has just said a word to me." 
 
 *asit so ill as that?" 
 
 ** Well, no, I did not think it was," acknow- 
 ledged the woman. ^' Dr. Dove did not much 
 like its look this morning ; I saw that, I 
 
THE BABY. i 7 
 
 suppose lie spoke to Mr. Grubb more fully 
 than to me." 
 
 ** Do ijoii think it is in any danger ? " 
 
 The nurse paused before replying. *' One 
 can never be quite sure of these very young 
 infants. When it was born I thought it a 
 nice healthy little thing ; yesterday it seemed 
 quiet and peeky, and wailed a bit ; this morn- 
 ing it seems anything but well, and does not 
 take its food. Still, my lady, I can't say that 
 it is in danger.'' 
 
 Lady x^corn nodded her head and her bonnet 
 two or three times, as if not satisfied with 
 affairs in general, and went back to her 
 daughter's room. 
 
 The young clergyman came up ; things were 
 made ready ; and they gathered round in a 
 group at the bed-side, kneeling down for the 
 short preparatory prayers used in private 
 baptism. When they arose, the clergyman 
 took the child in his arms from Grace, who 
 had held it. 
 
 *' Name this child." 
 
 *' George," promptly spoke the mother 
 froiQ the bed, her tone giving emphasis to the 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
178 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 word. And Francis Grubb's face flushed as 
 he heard it. Ah, what pain was often his ! 
 
 The short service was soon over. Mr. 
 Wilkinson departed for his church ; Lady 
 Acorn and Grace followed him. The nurse 
 had gone back to the dressing-room. Mr. 
 Grubb stood by the bed in which the quiet 
 child had again been laid. 
 
 ** I thought you were going to church ?'' 
 said Lady Adela. 
 
 ** Yes ; directly.'' He wanted especially 
 to go to church that day ; to return thanks 
 to God for the mercy vouchsafed him in the 
 preservation of his wife. Though, indeed, 
 he had not waited to be in church to do 
 that. 
 
 *' How quiet the baby was all through it ! '' 
 cried Adela. 
 
 *'Very quiet. Too quiet, your mother 
 says.'' 
 
 ** Mamma says all sorts of things when 
 she is in a temper, as you have learnt by this 
 time, and she is in one this morning," was 
 Adela's light and not over dutiful remark. 
 Not bat that it was true. 
 
THE BABY, 179 
 
 Mr. Grubb had taken the child in his arms, 
 and stood looking down upon it. Save that 
 its eyes were open and that it breathed, it 
 seemed still enough for death. He did not 
 understand babies, but he did think this one 
 was unnaturally quiet. 
 
 '* Why are you looking at him so atten- 
 tively ? '' asked Adela, by-and-by. 
 
 ** I don't think he can be well." 
 
 *' But — you don't think he is ill, do you ? '* 
 returned she, after a pause, and speaking 
 quickly. 
 
 *' Adela, I do not know. He seems to me 
 to have changed a little in the last half hour, 
 since I first came in. Of course, I may be 
 mistaken." 
 
 *^ Suppose you send for Dr. Dove ? " 
 
 ^' I can send if you like : he has but just 
 gone, you know. The nurse does not seem 
 to be " — alarmed, he was about to say, but 
 changed the word — ** anxious; so it maybe 
 aU well." 
 
 He put the baby in its place, and Lady 
 Adela raised her head to look at it. *^ He 
 gets paler, I think," she observed ; ** and, as 
 
I So COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 you say, he is very, very quiet. Poor little 
 tiling, lie lias no strength yet." 
 
 *' He cannot have much of that," remarked 
 Mr. Grubb. *' The nurse says she cannot get 
 him to take his food. If he does not, he 
 must sink, Adela." 
 
 Their eyes met. There was certainly no 
 reproach in his, only a standing look of pain. 
 Adela did not want her baby to die, and the 
 fear of it was beginning to trouble her ; she 
 was aware that, looking at matters from tluir 
 point of view, her enemies', she might not be 
 altogether unconscious of meriting some re- 
 proach. Back she lay on the pillow again, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 Mr. Grubb went round, bent down, and 
 sheltered her head on his breast. ** I don't 
 want him to die," she sobbed. 
 
 *' Won't you try to save him ? " he whis- 
 pered in his tenderly persuasive tones, as he 
 held her face close to his own. 
 
 ** But the trouble ! — and the sacrifice. Oh, 
 how cross and contrary the world some- 
 times is ! " 
 
 *' Your own child and mine, Adela ! It 
 
THE BABY. i8i 
 
 would be but a little sacrifice, a little trouble. 
 When he gets older he will repay you love 
 for love.'* 
 
 A pause. **I suppose you will be very 
 cross with me if I don't, Francis." 
 
 " Am I ever cross with you ? I should 
 grieve for the child if he died ; I should grieve 
 for your grief, for I know you would feel it. 
 Oh, my darling, won't you try to save him ? 
 To do so must be right in God's sight." 
 
 She cried silently for a minute longer, her 
 wet cheek lying contentedly against his. 
 ** Perhaps I will," she whispered in his ear. 
 '* For Ms sake, you know." 
 
 ** For all our sakes, Adela." 
 
 **Put him nearer to me, please. I will 
 look at him again — whether he does seem ill. 
 And how late you will be at church ! " 
 
 *' Not very ; the bell is going yet," said 
 Mr. Grubb. He placed the infant where she 
 could look at it closely ; gave her a farewell 
 kiss, and departed. Adela rang for the nurse. 
 
 ** You may throw away all the stupid 
 gruel, nurse. I shall not let the baby have 
 any more of it." 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 JOSEPH HOKN's testimony. 
 
 *^ OOME one is waiting to see you, sir," 
 said one of Mr. Grubb's servants to 
 him, as he entered the house on his return 
 from church. 
 
 /^ Who is it?'' 
 
 ** Mr. Dalrymple's man, sir. He has been 
 waiting nearly an hour." 
 
 Eeuben came forward from the back of the 
 hall. The moment Mr. Grubb caught sight 
 of his face, usually so full of healthy bloom, 
 now pale and woe-begone, he was seized with 
 a presentiment of evil. 
 
 ** Come into the library, Eeuben," he said. 
 *' Have you brought ill news of any kind ? " 
 he added, shutting the door. *' What is it V 
 
 And, to make matters more intelligible to 
 you, reader, we will go back to the past 
 Friday night, when Eobert Dalrymple left his 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY, 183 
 
 lodgings in the company of Mr. Piggott, 
 leaving poor Reuben in distress and despair. 
 
 Eeuben sat up the livelong night. The 
 light dawned after the brief interval of dark- 
 ness, very brief in June, the sun came out, 
 the cries and bustle in the streets gradually 
 set in, and London had begun another day. 
 At six o'clock Eeuben lay down on his bed 
 for an hour, and then got himself a bit of 
 breakfast — which he could not eat. His 
 master did not come. 
 
 Fearing he knew not what, and attaching 
 more importance, in his vague uneasiness, to 
 Eobert's having stayed out than he might 
 have done at another time, at nine o'clock 
 Eeuben betook himself to Mr. Piggott's. 
 That gentleman did not live in very fashion- 
 able lodgings, and his address w^as usually 
 given at his club, not there. Eeuben, how- 
 ever, knew it. Some time before, Eeuben 
 had gone on a fishing tour, to catch what in- 
 formation he could as to the private concerns 
 of Mr. Piggott and Colonel Haughton, and 
 had found out where each lived. 
 
 The slipshod servant who came to the 
 
l84 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 door could say nothing as to whether Mr. 
 Dalrymple was staying the night there; all 
 she knew was, that Mr. Piggott '* warn't up 
 yet.*' Eeuben inquired as to the locality of 
 Mr. Piggott's chamber, went up to it without 
 opposition, and knocked at the door ; a sharp, 
 loud knock. 
 
 ** Who's there?*' 
 
 Another knock, sharper still. 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 Eeuben walked in at once. ** Sir," was 
 his unceremonious address, *' do you know 
 anything of my master ?" 
 
 *'I!" cried Mr. Piggott, when he had 
 recovered his surprise, and speaking from 
 the midst of his bed-clothes. **I do not. 
 Why?" 
 
 ** I thought you might know, sir, as 3 ou 
 took him out last night. He said he w^as 
 going to play wdth you and Colonel Haugh- 
 ton. He has not returned home, which I 
 think very strange ; and, as there is some 
 important business waiting for him, I want 
 to find him." 
 
 Beuben spoke out freely. But the **im- 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. i8s 
 
 portant business" was but an invention. He 
 did not care to betray how uneasy he was, 
 yet wanted an excuse for inquiring. Poor 
 man ! the fate of his early master lay omin- 
 ously on his mind. 
 
 **He left us last night between twelve and 
 one o'clock ; to go home, as I suppose," said 
 Mr. Piggott, somewhat taken to. 
 
 *^ Between twelve and one, sir ?" 
 
 *' Close upon one it may have been ; it had 
 not struck. I know nothing more." 
 
 ** Did he go home with Colonel Haughton ? " 
 
 ** That I am sure he did not. Colonel 
 Haughton and I walked away together. I 
 left the Colonel at his own door." 
 
 ** Away from Jermyn Street, I suppose you 
 mean, sir ?" 
 
 ** You have no right to suppose anything 
 of the kind," roared Mr. Piggott, aroused to 
 anger. ''What is it to you? Go out, and 
 shut the door." 
 
 Eeuben did as he was bid ; there seemed 
 to be no use in staying. He sought out 
 Colonel Haughton, who (remembering past 
 events) was civil, and who possibly felt some 
 
186 COURT NETHERLEI&H. 
 
 undefined uneasiness at the disappearance of 
 Eobert. His story was the same as Piggott's 
 — that the young man had left them a little 
 before one o'clock. 
 
 Trusting these gentlemen just as far as he 
 could see them and no farther, or their word 
 either, Reuben went to the gambling-house 
 in Jermyn Street. After some difficulty — 
 for every impediment seemed put in the way 
 of any inquiry ; and, to judge by appear- 
 ances, the place might have been the most 
 innocent in the world — Reuben found a man 
 attached to the house who knew Mr. Dal- 
 rymple. This man happened to be at the 
 front door when Mr. Dalrymple went out the 
 previous night ; it wanted about five or ten 
 minutes to one. He watched him walk away. 
 
 ^' "Which way did he go ?'' asked Reuben. 
 *' Towards home — South Audley Street ?" 
 
 ^'No, the other way. He staggered a bit^ 
 as if not quite sober." 
 
 *' Through the machinations of the wicked 
 people that have been hunting him ; he never 
 drank but when incited to it by them,'' spoke 
 Reuben, in his pain. 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 187 
 
 Back he went to South Audley Street, in 
 the hope that his master might have now 
 reached it. Not so. The day wore on, and 
 he did not come. Eeuben was half distracted. 
 In the evening he went to various police 
 stations, and told his tale — his master, Mr. 
 Eobert Dalrymple, had disappeared. It may, 
 perhaps, seem to you, reader, that all this 
 was premature ; hardly called for ; but the 
 faithful old servant's state of mind must 
 plead his excuse. 
 
 Another night passed. Sunday morning 
 arose, and then tidings came of Robert and 
 his probable fate. The police had been 
 making inquiries, and one of them came to 
 Eeuben. 
 
 A hat had been found in the Thames, the 
 previous day, floating away with the tide. 
 Inside it was written ** E. Dalrymple.'' The 
 policeman had it in his hand ; bringing it to 
 Eeuben to be owned or disowned. Eeuben 
 recognised it in a moment. It was the one 
 his unfortunate master had worn on Friday 
 night. How could it have got in the water ? 
 — and where, then, was Eobert Dalrymple ? 
 
i88 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Little need to speculate. Some bargemen 
 who were in their vessel, lying close to the 
 side of Westminster Bridge, had disclosed to 
 the police that about two o'clock on Saturday 
 morning they had heard a weight drop into 
 the water, seemingly from the bridge — ** as 
 if,'' said one of them, *' a body had thro wed 
 hisself right on to the Thames o' purpose to 
 make a hole in it/' 
 
 It was this disastrous news that Eeuben 
 had now brought to Mr. Grubb. That gentle- 
 man sat aghast as he listened. The old man, 
 seated opposite to him, broke down with a 
 burst of anguish as he concluded, the salt 
 tears raining on his cheeks. 
 
 **Can he have wilfully destroyed himself?" 
 breathed Mr. Grubb. 
 
 *' Only too sure, sir," wailed Eeuben ; 
 ** only too sure." 
 
 '* And the motive ? Embarrassment ? " 
 
 "Not a doubt of it, sir; he was quite 
 ruined." 
 
 ** If he had but applied to me ! — if he had 
 but applied to me ! " bewailed Mr. Grubb, 
 rising from his chair to pace the room in 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 189 
 
 excitement. *^ I would have saved and 
 helped him/' 
 
 *' A dreadful set had got hold of him, poor 
 young man," sobbed Eeuben. ** The same 
 gamblers — one of them's the same, at any 
 rate — that got hold of and ruined his uncle. 
 Doubtless you know that story, sir. On this 
 last Friday evening that ever was, I told it to 
 Mr. Eobert, hoping it would turn him back. 
 But those wretched men had laid too fast a 
 hold upon him. One was waiting for him 
 outside in the street then. My belief is, sir, 
 he coidchit break with them.'* 
 
 *^ Had the tale no effect upon him ? '* 
 
 *' Some little it had ; not enough. He must 
 go forth to play that night, he said to me ; 
 he had given his word to Piggott to go, and, 
 besides, he thought the luck would turn and 
 favour him ; but, once the night was over, he 
 would know that Haughton and the rest of 
 the set no more. And I think he would have 
 kept his word, sir." 
 
 '' I suppose luck did not favour him ? 
 That shall, if possible, be ascertained." 
 
 Eeuben shook his head. *'No -need to 
 
I90 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 doubt, sir. The worst is — the worst is — I 
 hardly like to say it/' 
 
 *' Can anything be worse, Eeuben, than 
 what you have told me ? " was Mr. Grubb's 
 sad rejoinder, as he took his seat again. 
 
 '* Ay, but I meant as to his means, sir ; his 
 losses. He was quite cleared out ; he told 
 me that ; everything, including Moat Grange, 
 so far as his life interest in it went, was 
 staked and gone. But that last night" — 
 Eeuben's voice dropped to a dread whisper — 
 ** he took out with him what was not his to 
 stake. And, no doubt, lost it.'' 
 
 ''What was it?'* questioned Mr. Grubb, 
 in the same hushed tone, feeling rather at sea, 
 yet afraid of he knew not what. 
 
 *' It was a cheque that had come up that 
 morning from Netherleigh. Farmer Lee 
 wanted some money invested in some par- 
 ticular security, and he got my master to 
 undertake to do it for him, to save himself 
 the journey up. Mr, Kobert had told me all 
 about it — he mostly did tell me things. Ah, 
 sir, his disposition was open and generous as 
 the dav." 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 191 
 
 ** And the money came ?'' 
 
 ** The cheque came, sir. It was for five 
 hundred pounds. Piggott called that Friday 
 afternoon and scented the cheque ; saw it, 
 most likely. He took Mr. Eobert out to 
 dinner, and plied him with wine, and between 
 ten and eleven he brought him back again, 
 staying outside while my master came in — 
 came in for the cheque. It was then I tried 
 to pull him up by telling him about his Uncle 
 Claude — how the man Haughton had lured 
 Mr. Claude to his destruction, just as he was 
 now luring Mr. Robert. He said he would 
 have no more to do with Haughton after that 
 night ; but he went out to Piggott with the 
 cheque in his pocket, and they walked away 
 together arm-in-arm." 
 
 Mr. Grubb took out his pocket-book, and 
 made a note in pencil. He would get that 
 cheque back from the gamblers if possible. 
 At any rate he would have a good try 
 for it. 
 
 Reuben had not much more to tell. Mr. 
 Grubb put on his hat and went with him to 
 see the police inspector who had the ease in 
 
192 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 hand. It was a terrible blow : terrible in all 
 ways : Francis Grubb was feeling it to be so — 
 and what then would it be to his sister Mary ? 
 
 The inspector pointed out to Mr. Grubb 
 that, in spite of the finding of the hat in the 
 Thames, which hat was, beyond all doubt, 
 Mr. Dalrymple's, it did not follow that Mr. 
 Dalrymple was himself in the Thames ; and 
 the splash heard by the men in the barge 
 might have been made by anybody else. 
 There was no proof, he urged, that Mr. 
 Dalrymple had been on Westminster Bridge, 
 or near it. And all this seemed so reasonable 
 that Mr. Grubb felt his heart's weight some- 
 what lightened. 
 
 But, ere the Sunday afternoon closed in, 
 testimony on this point was forthcoming, and 
 rather singularly. It chanced that a young 
 man, named Horn, who was an assistant to 
 Eobert Dalrymple's tailor, and had often mea- 
 sured Eobert for clothes, was spending the 
 Friday with some friends at South Lambeth. 
 Horn, a very respectable and steady man, had 
 stayed late, for it was a wedding feast, beyond 
 the time of omnibuses, and had to walk home 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 193 
 
 to his lodgings near Leicester Square. In pass- 
 ing over Westminster Bridge, it was then close 
 upon two o'clock, he saw some one mounted 
 on the top, leaning right over the parapet, 
 hanging over it, as if he had a mind to fling 
 himself into the water. Horn, startled at the 
 sight, ran up, and pulled the man back ; and 
 then, to his unbounded astonishment, he found 
 it was Mr. Dalrymple. 
 
 '' I beg your pardon, sir," he said in 
 apology. '' I had no idea it was you." 
 
 '' Good night, Horn," rephed Eobert. 
 ''Good night, sir," returned Horn; and 
 walked on. 
 
 But Horn felt uneasy ; especially so at the 
 remembrance of Mr. Dalrymple's face, for it 
 looked full of trouble; and he turned back 
 again. Kobert was then standing with his 
 arms folded, apparently looking down quietly 
 on the water. 
 
 '' Can I do anything for you, sir ? " he 
 asked. " Nothing has happened, I hope ? " 
 
 *' Oh, nothing at all," replied Eobert. ''1 
 don't want anything done ; thank you all the 
 same, Horn. The night is warm, and I am 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
194 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 enjoying the air : one gets it here, if any- 
 where. Good night/' 
 
 Joseph Horn wished him good night again 
 and walked finally away. On this day, Sun- 
 day, chancing to hear that Mr. Dalrymple 
 was missing — for inquiries were now being 
 made extensively — he came forward and re- 
 lated this. 
 
 It was just the one link that had been 
 wanting. Poor Kobert Dalrymple, utterly 
 ruined, soon now to be pointed at as a felon, 
 had found his trouble greater than he could 
 bear, and had put an end to it. Of that there 
 could exist no reasonable doubt. The melan- 
 choly tale speedily fled over London — how 
 quickly such news does fly ! Robert Dahymple 
 had drowned himself — another victim to Play. 
 
 '^It runs in the family," quoth some care- 
 less people who remembered the former cata- 
 strophe. "Like uncle, like nephew! The 
 name of Dalrymple must be a fated one." 
 
 " I would at least have used a pistol, and 
 gone out of the world like a gentleman," was 
 the bad remark of that bad man. Colonel 
 Haughton, as he stood on the Sunday night 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 195 
 
 — yes, the Sunday night — and listened to the 
 news in that place with the hot name. 
 
 But the Colonel changed his tone the fol- 
 lowing day, when Francis Grubb, the great 
 East India merchant, wdiom all men, high and 
 low, looked up to and respected, stood before 
 him, and quietly informed him he must give 
 up a certain cheque belonging to Mr. Lee 
 of Netherleigh, or its value if it had been 
 cashed ; give it up, or submit to appear before 
 a magistrate, and run the gauntlet of public 
 exposure. After putting himself to a great 
 deal of trouble, in the way of remonstrance, 
 excuse, and grumbling, to which Mr. Grubb 
 made no sort of reply, as he calmly waited 
 the result, the Colonel returned the cheque — 
 which had not been cashed. Possibly the dis- 
 appearance of Robert Dalrymple had put him 
 and Mr. Piggott on their guard. 
 
 Meanwhile the Grange remained in ignor- 
 ance of what was passing ; but the terrible 
 tidings would soon have to be carried thither. 
 
 When Mrs. Dalrymple returned home on 
 Friday evening from dining at Court Nether- 
 leigh, she did not say much to Oscar about 
 
196 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 lier son ; but on the following morning, after 
 breakfast, Oscar having slept at the Grange, 
 she questioned him. Without making exactly 
 the worst of it, Oscar disclosed the worst — 
 that is, that Kobert was undoubtedly falling 
 into trouble through his gambling habits. He 
 deemed it lay in his duty to tell this ; and 
 Mrs. Dalrymple, as the reader must remember, 
 had been already warned by Reuben's letter. 
 That letter had been a great shock to her ; 
 she knew how fatal the vice had already 
 proved in the family. 
 
 It was a lovely midsummer morning, and 
 she and Selina were sitting on the bench 
 under the great elm tree. The bees were 
 humming, the butterflies sporting, the birds 
 singing around them. The grass was green 
 at foot ; overhead, the blue sky could be seen 
 through the branches of the flickering trees. 
 Oscar leaned against the trunk of an opposite 
 tree as he talked to them. 
 
 "What can be done? — what can be 
 done ? " exclaimed Mrs. Dalrymple, clasping 
 her hands in distress. *' Oscar, you ought to 
 have brought him down with you." 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 197 
 
 ** He positively refused to come. I might 
 as well have tried to bring a mountain. 
 Something ought to be done, and must be 
 done/' added Oscar ; '' you are quite right in 
 saying that. The question is — what is it 
 that can be ?'' 
 
 '' The root of the evil lies in his having 
 gone to London," said Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 *'He ought to have taken up his own proper 
 station here, and ourselves have found a house 
 elsewhere. But, in his chivalrous affection 
 for me, Robert would listen to no remon- 
 strance ; some implied promise to his father, 
 when he was on his death-bed, I believe, 
 swayed him. Robert was always so good- 
 hearted — and so impulsive. He— here is 
 Alice," she broke off, in a lowered tone. 
 
 Alice, with her sweet face, her slight 
 figure, and her quite perceptible limp, came 
 across the grass. ** May I not be admitted 
 to the conference ? " she asked, in a pleading 
 tone. " I know you are talking of Robert." 
 
 '' Oh, my dear, it is nothing that you need 
 trouble yourself about," said her mother, 
 soothingly. '' Go back to your tatting." 
 
198 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 " I have my tatting with me. Mamma — 
 Oscar — do you not see that it will be uell for 
 me to hear what there is to hear. I know 
 something is wrong about Eobert; I could 
 not sleep all last night, no, nor the night 
 before, for dwelling on it. Whatever there is 
 to hear, it cannot make me more anxious than 
 I am — and it would end the suspense." 
 
 ^^Well, well, sit down," said Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple, giving way. " I hardly know myself 
 how much or how little of evil there is to 
 hear, Alice." And she went on to speak 
 without reservation : ** Eobert had fallen into 
 gambling habits ; and there was no telling 
 how deeply. All his own means were un- 
 doubtedly gone. Of course things must get 
 worse night, by night," she concluded. ** Any 
 night he may stake the Grange." 
 
 ** Stake the Grange ! " echoed Alice. 
 *' Mamma, what do you mean ? " 
 
 ^' Stake it and lose it," confirmed Oscar. 
 *' When the mania for play sets in on a man, 
 he is not content to confine his ventures to 
 trifles." 
 
 **But I do not understand," returned Alice. 
 
JOSEPH HOiCA -S lESTlMOyy. 199 
 
 "■ How could he stake the Grange ? It is in 
 the Dahymple family, and cannot go out of it/' 
 ^' He might stake its value. Mortgage it, 
 that is, for his own life." 
 
 ''And could we not remain in it?'' she 
 quickly asked. 
 
 '' Scarcely. It might take every shilling 
 of its in-comings to pay off the interest. You 
 could not remain here upon nothing." 
 
 " Would it he sacrificed ; useless to us for 
 so long as Robert lived ? " questioned Selina, 
 not quite comprehending. 
 
 Oscar nodded. " I am only saying that 
 he might do it : I do not say he will. He 
 might so hamper himself, so involve the 
 estate, that he could never derive further 
 benefit from it. Or his family either, so long 
 
 as he lived." 
 
 " Does it return to us at Eohert's death? 
 I wish to goodness he would he more careful 
 of himself," added Selina, in her quick way. 
 ''Sitting up till daylight, night after night, 
 cannot be good for him." 
 
 «' It would return into the family," 
 
 spoke Oscar, hesitatingly. 
 
200 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Alice Dalrymple looked up from a reverie. 
 A contingency had occurred to her which she 
 had never thought of before : so entirely had 
 the Grange been theirs in their father's recent 
 lifetime, and in the certainty of its descending 
 to Kobert afterwards. '* Suppose anything 
 were to happen to Eobert/' she said, " whose 
 would the Grange be ? Mamma's ? " 
 
 No one answered her. 
 
 *' Oscar, I ask you, would it go to 
 mamma ? " 
 
 ^^No." 
 To whom, then ? " 
 
 My dear," interposed Mrs. Dalrymple, 
 *' it would be Oscar's. It goes in the male 
 line." 
 
 The answer took both the young ladies by 
 surprise. They were really very ignorant of 
 these matters. Each of them stole a glance 
 at Oscar : a red, conscious light had flown 
 into his usually pale cheek. 
 
 "I never knew it," breathed Selina. 
 
 ** And it is of little import your knowing it 
 now," gently spoke Oscar. ** I am as likely 
 to come into the Grange as I am to be made 
 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 20 
 
 prime minister. Eobert is a younger man 
 than I am." 
 
 *' Poor Eobert!" lamented Alice. ^' He has 
 been left to himself up in that great wicked 
 town, he has had nobody to turn to for advice 
 or counsel, and I daresay he has only done 
 what he has done from thoughtlessness. A 
 word from mamma may set him right. 
 Mamma, do you not think you ought to go to 
 him ? " 
 
 '' Yes, Alice. It is what I have been 
 resolving to do, now, as you were talking. 
 And you must stay here over to-morrow, and 
 go with me, Oscar. We will start by the 
 nine o'clock train on Monday morning." 
 
 "• So be it," acquiesced Oscar. '' It is the 
 only thing. He may listen to you." 
 
 So Oscar Dalrymple stayed with them at 
 the Grange until the Monday, revelling in the 
 society of the one only being he loved on 
 earth — Selina. 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple had made ready for the 
 journey — and how fervent, how imploringly 
 earnest her prayers were that it might bear 
 happy fruit, she and heaven alone knew. 
 
202 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Tliey all sat down to an early breakfast : even 
 Alice, whose lameness was an apology for not 
 rising betimes in general. In the midst of 
 breakfast James came in, and looked at Oscar 
 Dalrymple. 
 
 *' Will you please to step here, sir, for a 
 minute ? " 
 
 " What for ? " 
 
 '* Just for a minute, sir," repeated the man; 
 and his eyes seemed to telegraph a momentary 
 entreaty with the words, 
 
 Oscar went out hurriedly, for there was no 
 time to spare, and the carriage to take them 
 to the station had already come round. 
 James shut the door. 
 
 *' Here's Eeuben come down, sir, by the 
 early train,'' he whispered. '^ He told me to 
 fetch you out to him, quietly, but not to say 
 who it was." 
 
 Oscar walked quickly across the hall. 
 Eeuben awaited him in an empty room. - 
 
 ** What is it, Eeuben ? What has brought 
 you from town ? " 
 
 The old servant trembled with agitation, 
 and grasped hold of the back of a chair. 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 203 
 
 ** Oh, Mr. Oscar, it is all over. My poor 
 young master is gone." 
 
 Oscar sat down, seemingly miconscious 
 what he did, and the red light came again 
 into his cheeks. 
 
 " The very night after you left London, sir, 
 those men drew him out again. Before he 
 went, I spoke to him, trying to stop him, 
 and he told me he was ruined and w^orse 
 than ruined. He never came back. He has 
 just followed in the steps of Mr. Claude 
 Dalrymple, and has met with the same 
 fate." 
 
 *' Surely he has not destroyed himself? '' 
 breathed Oscar. 
 
 *' He has ; he has." 
 
 '* But how ? In what manner ? " 
 
 *^By drowning, sir. He jumped over 
 Westminster Bridge right into the water during 
 that same night. About two o'clock, they say. 
 Oh, what distraction his poor mind must have 
 been in, to urge him to such a death as 
 that ? " 
 
 Oscar rose and looked from the window. 
 Cold as was his nature, the news could not 
 
204 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 fail to sliock him — altliougli he was the 
 inheritor. 
 
 *^Has he been found?" he presently 
 asked. 
 
 ** No. Perhaps never will be. The 
 officers say that not half the bodies that get 
 into the Thames ever see the light again. 
 But his fate is as sure and certain, sir, as 
 though he had been found, and the drags are 
 yet at work. Mr. Oscar, I'd rather it was 
 my own death that had to be told of than his," 
 added Reuben, breaking into sobs. 
 
 *'It is sad indeed," cried Oscar, feeling, 
 truth to say, terribly cut up. ''land Mrs. 
 Dalrymple were on the point of starting for 
 London. It is no use to go now. At least 
 she must not." 
 
 ''His hat was found in the Thames," said 
 poor Reuben, regaining some composure; 
 *' and, curious to say, one Joseph Horn, a 
 young man, who " 
 
 " Oscar," called out the voice of Mrs. 
 Dalrymple, "where are you ? We have not 
 any more time to spare." 
 
 "How shall I break it to them ? " wailed 
 
JOSEPH HORN'S TESTIMONY. 205 
 
 Oscar to himself, knowing that it must he done, 
 and without delay. ^^It is a terrible mission. 
 Reuben, don't show yourself for a minute." 
 
 He walked across the hall, now his own, 
 and re-entered the breakfast-room. He pro- 
 ceeded with his task as well as he could, and 
 got through it, not telling them the worst, 
 only that some accident had happened to 
 Eobert. By intuition, however, they seemed 
 to seize on the truth — that he was dead. 
 Oscar felt almost thankful that xllice fainted 
 and fell to the floor, because it caused some 
 diversion to Mrs. Dalrymple's death-like 
 shock. 
 
 And, ere the mid-day sun was at its height, 
 the estate was ringing wdth the news that its 
 generous young landlord had passed away, 
 with his faults and follies, and that Oscar 
 Dalrymple would reign at the Grange. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A COSTLY MANIA. 
 
 rpHE residence of Mrs. Lynn at Blackheath 
 was a substantial, old-fashioned, roomy 
 house on the heath, standing alone within a 
 high wall surrounded by trees. And to this 
 house, on the Monday morning, went her son, 
 Francis Grubb, carrying with him his burden 
 of ill news. The same fatal news which the 
 old serving-man, Eeuben, had already taken 
 to Moat Grange. 
 
 In the morning-room sat Mary Lynn, 
 glancing over a short letter she had just 
 written. She started up in what looked like 
 alarm when her brother entered. 
 
 *' Oh, Francis!" she exclaimed, a hectic 
 colour flushing her face, ' ' what have you 
 come to-day for — now ? Is it to bring me ill 
 news ? " 
 
 ''Why do you imagine that?'' he asked, 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 207 
 
 rather struck with her words — and her looks. 
 ** Can't a business man come out to pay a 
 morning visit, Mary, without bringing ill news 
 with him ? My wife and the baby are going 
 on well, if you are thinking of them." 
 
 He spoke in a half-jesting tone, making 
 light of it at first. It was not usual with 
 him to leave the City at this early hour. 
 Mary glanced at the open letter on the table. 
 She wore a cool muslin dress of a pinkish 
 colour, and was looking altogether fresh and 
 fair and pure — but sad. 
 
 '^ How is mamma ? " he asked. 
 
 ** Not at all well; she is keeping her room 
 to-day," said Mary. Mr. Grubb, standing so 
 near, could not fail to see that the letter was 
 written to Robert Dalrymple. The reader 
 may like to see its contents. 
 
 " My dear Robert, — Considering that you 
 and I ceased to correspond some years ago, 
 you will be surprised at my waiting to you. I 
 have no doubt all proper-minded old ladies, 
 including my mother, would shake their heads 
 at me. Will you just drop me one line in 
 
2o8 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 answer, to say how you are, and how the 
 world is using you, and please let it be by 
 return of post. I have a reason for asking 
 this. Pardon the trouble ; and believe me 
 ever affectionately yours, 
 
 *' Mary Isabel Lynn." 
 
 ** Have you brought me ill news, Francis ? '* 
 she repeated. ^^ About Kobert Dalrymple ? " 
 
 Her brother looked at her. '^ Again I ask 
 you, Mary, why you should put the question ? " 
 
 '*I will tell you," she said : ''at the risk of 
 your laughing at me, Francis ; and that I 
 know you will do. I have had a dream about 
 Eobert, and it has made me uneasy." 
 
 *' A dream ! " he repeated in surprise. But 
 he did not laugh. 
 
 '' It was last Friday night," she went on. 
 ''I came home from your house rather tired, 
 and — and troubled; troubled about Eobert. 
 I had seen that he was in great trouble him- 
 self; in fact, he told me so ; but he would 
 not tell me its nature. The world was using 
 him hardly — that was the most explicit ad- 
 mission he made. I could not get to sleep at. 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 209 
 
 first for tliinking of him ; not before one 
 o'clock, I daresay ; and then I had a terrible 
 dream." 
 
 ''You should not think of dreams, child," 
 put in her brother. " But go on." 
 
 " I thought we were in some gloomy room, 
 Eobert and I. At the end of it was a small 
 door, closed, with an opening at the top pro- 
 tected by iron spikes. Beyond that narrow 
 opening nothing could be seen, for it vras 
 dark. Eobert stood near this door, facing it 
 in silence, as if waiting for it to open, and I 
 stood some yards behind him, waiting also. 
 Some trouble seemed to lie upon both of us, 
 some apprehension, but I know not what ; 
 something that could not be spoken of : it 
 filled my heart to sickness. Suddenly the 
 door began slowly to open; and, as the intense 
 darkness beyond began to disclose itself more 
 and more — a black, inky darkness that seemed 
 to reign in illimitable space — a most frightful 
 terror took possession of me, a terror more 
 awful than can ever be experienced in life. 
 Eobert turned and looked at me in token of 
 farewell, still in silence — and oh, Francis, I 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
2IO COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 • 
 
 shall never forget the despairing misery de- 
 picted on his face. He turned it away again, 
 and took a step towards the door, now quite 
 open. I rushed forward with a scream and 
 caught his arm on its threshold. 'No, no, 
 you shall not go out there ! ' I shrieked : 
 ^ stay, and pray for deliverance.' This awoke 
 me ; awoke me to the same vivid terror I had 
 felt in the dream,'' concluded Miss Lynn^ 
 *'and just afterwards the clock struck two." 
 
 ''Two?" 
 
 " Two. I lay in the most extreme agitation 
 for the rest of the night ; instinct whispering 
 me that some ill had befallen Kohert. With 
 the morning the feeling in some degree passed 
 away, and the occupations of the day served 
 still more to deaden it : several visitors called 
 on Saturday. Nevertheless, the dream has 
 haunted me ever since like a nightmare. 
 Not a w^ord of the sermon yesterday morning 
 could I take in. When mamma asked me 
 what the text was when I got home from 
 church, I was obliged to say I could not re- 
 member it. So, this morning, I thought I 
 would write a line to Eobert, asking if things 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 211 
 
 are well with him — for anxiety and suspense 
 yet cling to me." 
 
 Her voice ceased. Mr. Grubb made no 
 comment. 
 
 *' Has any ill happened to him, Francis 2" 
 she continued, her face raised wistfully. 
 *' Have you come to tell it me ?'' 
 
 Oh, it was a hard task, this, that was im- 
 posed upon him. Far harder than the one 
 that had fallen to Oscar Dalrymple at Moat 
 Grange in Berkshire. For the natures of the 
 two men were essentially different : the one 
 stoically calm ; the other warm, generous, 
 loving. Francis Grubb took his sister gently 
 by the hand. 
 
 *' Let us go into the open air, Mary ; to 
 the quiet shrubbery. What I have to tell 
 you, I will tell you there." 
 
 It was a most terrible thing to have come 
 to pass. Better that the ill-fated Robert 
 Dalrymple, when in the very act of self-de- 
 struction, had arrested himself, and prayed to 
 God for deliverance as Mary Lynn seemed 
 to have implored him to do in her dream. 
 
212 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 And if any latent doubt lingered in the 
 minds of fond relatives, this was to be extin- 
 guished. Some three weeks after the fatal 
 night he was found in the water near Millwall : 
 quite unrecognisable in himself, but identified 
 by his clothes. The jury brought in a more 
 merciful verdict than was passed on his uncle 
 before him — " Temporary insanity ;" and he 
 was buried in the nearest churchyard. 
 
 As to his creditors, they were not paid. 
 There was nothing to pay them with. With 
 the exception, however, of his gambling debts, 
 it turned out that Eobert did not owe much. 
 Mr. Grubb had got back Farmer Lee's five 
 hundred pound cheque — and Mr. Grubb, 
 Eeuben, and Oscar, to whom it w^as alone 
 known, kept that matter secret from the 
 farmer and from the world. 
 
 Oscar Dalrymple had come into the Grange, 
 and wo'uld take possession of it as soon as 
 Mrs. Dalrymple could, at her convenience, 
 move out. Oscar, cold and calculating though 
 he was, could but come forward to Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple 's rescue. It fell to him to keep her 
 and her daughters now. He spoke to her in 
 
A COSILY MAMA. 213 
 
 a kindly, generous tone, letting nothing appear 
 of the inward wincing he possibly may have 
 felt. She had absolutely no resource in the 
 world, save Oscar. They had a distant rela- 
 tive indeed, one Benjamin Dalrymple, living 
 in the West of England ; a crusty old man, 
 who was reported to be very rich, and had 
 made his money at cotton spinning ; but this 
 old man had created quite a deadly feud be- 
 tween himself and all the Dalrymple family ; 
 and Mrs. Dalrymple would starve rather than 
 apply to him; Better be under an obligation 
 to Oscar than to him : though she did not 
 over well like that. Oscar proposed (perhaps 
 he felt he could do no less) that she and her 
 daughters should still make the Grange their 
 home ; but Mrs. Dalrymple declined, A 
 pretty little house on the estate, called Lawn 
 Cottage, was assigned to her use, rent free ; 
 and two hundred pounds per annum. Oscar 
 remonstrated against the smallness of the 
 pittance, but she absolutely refused to accept 
 more. With her poultry and fruit and vege- 
 tables, and the milk from her one cow% Mrs. 
 Dalrymple assured him she did not see how 
 
COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 she could spend even that. So she and her 
 daughters removed to Lawn Cottage, and 
 Oscar entered upon his reign at the Grange. 
 
 A year had gone hy. London was in a 
 commotion : nothing was talked of in its gay 
 circles, but the young and lovely bride, Mrs. 
 Dalrymple. Peers were going mad for her 
 smiles ; peeresses condescended to court them. 
 Panics do sometimes come over the fashion- 
 able world of this great metropolis : now it is 
 a rage for speculation, like that railway mania 
 which once turned people's sober senses up- 
 side down ; now it is the new and very ugly 
 signora, who is ruling the boards and the 
 boxes of Her Majesty's Theatre ; now it is 
 an insane sympathy — insane in the working 
 — with all the black Uncle and Aunt Toms 
 in the western hemisphere ; but at the time 
 of which we are writing, it was the ad- 
 miration of one of themselves, a woman, the 
 beautiful Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 
 She was charming ; not because fashion 
 said it, but that she really was. Natu- 
 rally fascinating, the homage she received 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 215 
 
 in the gay world — a new w^orld to her — 
 rendered lier manners irresistibly so. Some 
 good wives, staid and plain, who had never 
 been guilty of courting a look in their lives, 
 and prided themselves on it, avowed privately 
 to their lords that she laid herself out for 
 admiration, and was a compound of vanity 
 and danger ; and the lords nodded a grave 
 approval, and the moment they could get out 
 of sight, went running in the vrake of Mrs. 
 Dalrymple. 
 
 A stylish vehicle, much favoured in those 
 days by young fellows with little brains and 
 less prudence, something between a brake and 
 a dandy-horse, with two stylish men in it, 
 especially in the extent of their moustaches, 
 was driving down Eegent Street. He who 
 held the reins. Captain Stanley, was attend- 
 ing to some object at a distance rather than 
 to his horse ; his head was raised, his eyes 
 were intently fixed far before him. k. cab 
 whirled suddenly round the corner of Argyle 
 Place : Captain Stanley was too much ab- 
 sorbed to avoid it, and the two vehicles came 
 into contact with each other. 
 
2i6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 No damage was clone. All that came of it 
 was a wordy war : for the cabman's abuse w\as 
 unlimited, and Captain Stanley retorted in 
 angry explosion. 
 
 '' Is that the w^ay you generally drive in 
 London?" quietly asked his companion, as 
 they went on again. 
 
 " An insolent reptile ! He shall smart for 
 it. Ill have him before the magistrate at 
 Marlborough Street . ' ' 
 
 '' Don't call me as a witness, then. It was 
 your fault. You got into the fellow's way." 
 
 " I didn't get into his way." 
 
 '' At an}^ rate you didn't get out of it, which 
 amounts to the same thing. I ask if that is 
 your usual mode of driving ? " 
 
 ''What if it is?" 
 
 " It is a careless one. The next time you 
 offer me a seat, Stanley, I shall propose to 
 take the reins." 
 
 "I thought I saw her carriage before us," 
 explained Captain Stanley, in a more con- 
 ciliatory tone, as he began to recover his 
 good-humour. " It made me blind to every- 
 thing else, Winchester." 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 217 
 
 ''Who is 'her'?" demanded Lord Wm- 
 chester, who had just returned from a pro- 
 longed sojourn on the Continent. 
 
 " The loveliest woman, Winchester. I can 
 tell you you have a treat in store : you will 
 say it when you get introduced to her. I 
 couldn't exist," added the Captain, twirling 
 his moustache, " without a daily sight of that 
 angel." 
 
 The Viscount smiled. He knew^, of old, 
 Captain Stanley's propensity to go into heroics 
 over " angels : " he did so himself upon 
 occasion. " Mrs. Stanley to be ? " asked he, 
 indifferently, by way of saying something. 
 
 "No such luck. She's married. And so 
 . 
 
 "Pardon, Stanley; I forgot it. When a 
 fellow^ marries over in India, the fact is apt to 
 slip out of one's memory." 
 
 "By Jove! here she comes! She has 
 turned back again. The green carriage 
 and dark livery. I knew I saw it. Isn't 
 she " 
 
 " Take care of your horse," interrupted 
 Lord Winchester ; " here's another cab." 
 
2i8 COURT NETHERLEICH. 
 
 ^' Hang the cabs ! Look at her/' 
 
 An open barouche was approaching. One 
 lady sat within it. Lord Winchester caught 
 sight of an exquisite toilette, and then, the 
 point-lace parasol being slightly moved, of an 
 exquisite face. A young face, looking younger, 
 perhaps, than it really was ; clearly cut, deli- 
 cate features ; cheeks of a rich damask, brown 
 glossy hair, and soft dark eyes of wonderful 
 brightness. 
 
 *' There's a picture for you ! '' murmured 
 the enamoured Captain Stanley, letting his 
 horse go as it would. "And the face is 
 nothing to her fascination when you come to 
 talk to her. She has sent half London wild.'' 
 
 Off went his hat, for the bright eyes were 
 smiling, and the fair head bowing to him. 
 But off went Lord Winchester's also : for a 
 brighter smile and a more familiar recognition, 
 though one of surprise, greeted him. 
 
 " Halloa, Winchester ! I say, that's too 
 bad! " cried Captain Stanley, when they had 
 passed. " You know her ? " 
 
 " Knew her before I knew you. She's 
 Selina Dalrymple." 
 
A COSTLY MAMA. 219 
 
 '' Selina : yes, that is her Christian name ; 
 I saw it one day on her handkerchief. Where 
 was the use of your making a mystery over it ? 
 Why coiikhi't you say that you knew her ? " 
 
 ^'I made no mystery, my good fellow. I 
 did not know it was Selina Dalrymple you 
 were speaking of. I used to meet her years 
 ao-o at Court Netherlei^-h. Whom has she 
 married ? What's her name ? " 
 
 ''What is the matter with you?" cried 
 Captain Stanley, looking at the Viscount. 
 ''You call her Selina Dalrymple, and then 
 ask what her name is. Do you suppose she 
 bears one name, and her husband another ? '' 
 
 " She has never married Oscar Dalrymple! " 
 exclaimed Lord Winchester, in a lively tone. 
 "Has she?" 
 
 "Her husband is the only Dalrymple I 
 know of in the land of the living. A cold, 
 dry, wizen-faced man." 
 
 " So ho, Oscar Dalrymple ! It is better to 
 be born lucky than rich. Moat Grange and its 
 fairest flower ! You did not bargain for that, 
 once upon a time. Poor Eobert Dalrymple : 
 he was nobody's enemy but his own." 
 
2 20 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 " You mean lier brother. He went out of 
 the world ungenteelly, I beheve, as Miss 
 Bailey's ghost says. I did not know him." 
 
 " The Oscar Dalrymples are up in town for 
 the season, I sujDpose ? " 
 
 '^Ay. They have taken part of a small 
 house in Berkeley Street — not being rich." 
 
 ''Anything but that, I should fancy." 
 
 "It is said he did not want to come to 
 town ; hates it. Only, her heart was set 
 upon it, and he can't deny her anything." 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is it," returned Lord 
 Winchester. 
 
 That was it. Selina Dalrymple, the bride 
 of a month or two, had made Oscar promise 
 that they should spend part of the season in 
 town. Yain, giddy, and thoughtless, Selina's 
 heart was revelling in the pleasures of this 
 London life, her head turned with the admira- 
 tion she received. Alas ! she had all too 
 speedily forgotten the tragical end of her 
 once- loved brother, though it came but a year 
 ago. Amidst all this whirl of gaiety there 
 was no time to remember tliat, 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple' s carriage had continued its 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 221 
 
 course. It was now on its way to lier dress- 
 maker's, Madame Damereau. Dead now, and 
 the once large business dispersed, Madame 
 Damereau, a Frenchwoman, was famous in 
 that gone-by day. An enormous custom — 
 clientele she used to call it — had she. Her 
 house was handsome, and, so far as its appear- 
 ance went, strictly private. It was in a 
 private street amid other handsome houses, 
 and there was nothing to betray its business 
 save the brass-plate on the wide mahogany 
 door — '^Madame Damereau." It was as 
 handsome inside as out ; its rooms were a 
 mixture of Parisian taste and English comfort, 
 with their velvet carpets, rich crimson furni- 
 ture, briUiant mirrors, and ornamental objects 
 of porcelain, all dehcate landscape painting and 
 burnished gold. Surely rooms, so elaborately 
 fitted up, vvere not needed to carry on the 
 business of a milliner and dressmaker, great 
 though that business was ! Needed or not, 
 they w^ere there. Madame Damereau had , 
 taste, and liked them. There was a hall and 
 a reception-room, and a painted glass door at 
 the end of a passage, as the clientele turned 
 
222 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 to ascend a handsome staircase that led to 
 the show-rooms ; through which glass door 
 might be caught glimpses of a paved court 
 with green shrubs and plants. Above the 
 stairs came an ante-room, and a trying-on 
 room — and I know not how much more. 
 Madame Damereau was as fascinating, in her 
 line, as Mrs. Dalrymple in hers : ask the 
 ladies who were for ever paying her visits, 
 and they would tell you that, once within 
 reach of the fascinations of herself and her 
 show-rooms, there they were contentedly 
 fixed ; there was no getting away, and there 
 was no trying to get away. Madame's expenses 
 were very great, and she had feathered her 
 nest pretty well : somebody paid for it. When 
 madame's nest should be sufficiently well 
 feathered — or what she would consider so — it 
 was her intention to return to la belle France 
 — pays cheri ! — and quit England and its 
 natives — les barbares ! — for ever. Every 
 thought of madame had reference to this 
 enchanting finale : not a dress did she make, 
 a bonnet sell, a mantle improvise, but the 
 charges for them (very high generally) were 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 223 
 
 elaborated with this one desirable end in view. 
 Apart from this propensity to gain, madame 
 was not bad at heart. Very good, in fact ; 
 and many a little kindness did she enact in 
 private, especially to her poor countrymen and 
 women, domiciled here. What though she 
 did stick on ruinous prices for those who could 
 pay ? — a person must live. Que voulez-vous ? 
 
 There had been a Monsieur Damereau once 
 upon a time. He had something to do with 
 the theatres, though not in the w-ay of acting. 
 But he grew too fond of English porter and 
 of fingering madame's profits. Madame in- 
 veigled him into a journey to Paris with her ; 
 let him have his fling a little w^hile, and one 
 fatal morning the poor deluded man awoke to 
 find that he and his wife were tw^o ; she had 
 obtained a separation from him " de corps et 
 de biens." Madame returned to England the 
 same day, and what became of him she neither 
 knew nor cared ; except that he regularly 
 drew the annuity she allow^ed to him, and 
 which was to cease if he ever re -set his foot in 
 the British Isles. 
 
 At the period of which we are writing, a 
 
224 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 great mania had seized upon the gay London 
 world. That other mania, admiration for 
 Oscar Dahymple's wife, and which chiefly con- 
 cerned the men, was but a small and private 
 one ; this was puhlic and universal, and per- 
 tained to the women. It was a love for dress. 
 A wild, rampant love for extravagant dress, 
 not to he controlled within any limit. No 
 fever yet known was like unto it ; and Madame 
 Demereau blessed it heartily, and petted it, 
 and nursed it, and prayed — good Catholic that 
 she was ! — that it might never abate. We 
 who have come to a certain age (than which 
 nothing was evermore uncertain) can remember 
 this, and the commotion it wrought; It was not 
 the ordinary passion for finery that obtains in 
 the beau monde, more or less, at all times, that 
 is prevailing now, but something worse — 
 different. In truth it was a very madness ; 
 and it ruined thousands. Few had fallen into 
 this insidious snare as completely as Mrs. 
 Oscar Dalrymple. Bred up in the country, 
 in simplicity and comparative seclusion, 
 London and its attractions had burst upon 
 her with irresistible power, dazzling her 
 
A COSTLY MANIA. 225 
 
 judgment, and taking captive her senses. 
 The passion for dress had been born with 
 Selina. No wonder, therefore — example is 
 so contagious, rivahy so rife in the human 
 heart — that it had, with its means of gratifica- 
 tion, seized frantic hold of her; just as another 
 passion had formerly seized upon and de- 
 stroyed her unfortunate brother. Not caring 
 particularly for her husband, the world's 
 homage had become as second life to her vain 
 (and somewhat empty) mind ; and of course 
 she must dress accordingly and go out at all 
 times and seasons armed for conquest. At 
 breakfast gatherings, in afternoon visits ; at 
 teas, I was going to say, but kettledrums had 
 not then come into vogue ; in the park, at 
 dinners, at the play, and in the ball-room, 
 she would be conspicuous for the freshness 
 and beauty of her toilette. 
 
 Does the reader remember a remark made by 
 Miss Upton, of Court Netherleigh? '"• Selina 
 Dalrymple is fonder of dress than a French 
 doll. Lack of sense, and love of finery, often 
 go together." 
 
 Poor Oscar Dalrymple, knowing nothing of 
 
 VOL. I. - Q 
 
226 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the mysteries of a lady's toilette, or its cost, 
 was content to admire his wife's, as did other 
 men. And, it may be, that no thought ever 
 intruded itself into Selina's mind of the day of 
 reckoning that must inevitably come. 
 
CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 WITH MADAME DAMEEEAU. 
 
 "MRS. OSCAR DALRYMPLE'S carriage 
 stopped at the door of Madame Damereau. 
 Other carriages, waiting for their ladies, drew 
 aside for it, and Mrs. Dahymple descended. 
 Rather tall, very elegant, her dress of delicate 
 lilac silk, flounced to the waist, became her 
 well, and her rich white lace mantle became 
 that. The Damereau footman threw open the 
 door for her, and she went up to the show- 
 room. A lady in plain black silk, but than 
 which nothing could be more rich of its kind, 
 with a small cap on her head of costly lace, 
 and lappets of the same, disengaged herself 
 from a group, to whom she was talking, and 
 came forward, bowing ; such bows that only 
 a Frenchwoman can achieve. It v/as Madame 
 Damereau. A clever-looking woman, with a 
 fair skin, and broad smooth forehead. 
 
228 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 What could she have the honour of doing 
 to-day for Madame Dabeemp ? 
 
 Mrs. Dahymple scarcely knew. If put 
 upon her conscience, she perhaps could not 
 have said she wanted much. She would walk 
 round first, and see. Was there anything 
 fresh ? 
 
 The Frenchwoman put the tip of one of 
 her white fingers (very white they were, and 
 displayed some valuable rings) upon the glove 
 of her visitor, and then passed carelessly 
 through the door to the next room. Madame 
 Damereau certainly favoured Selina, who 
 bought so largely of her, and never grumbled 
 at the price. Selina understood the move- 
 ment, and, stopping to look at a displayed 
 article or two in her way, as carelessly fol- 
 lowed her. That was madame's pet way 
 when she was bent upon doing a good stroke 
 of business. 
 
 '^ Tenez — pardon, madame,'' quoth she, as 
 
 soon as Selina joined her, and speaking in 
 
 craps of French and English, as was her 
 
 oiisiom : though she spoke both languages 
 
 nearly equally well, barring her accent of ours 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 229 
 
 — wliich was more than could be said for the 
 clientele, taking them collectively, and hence, 
 perhaps, the origin of her having acquired 
 the habit — ' ' I have got the rarest caisse of 
 articles arrived from Paris this morning. All! 
 qu'ils sont ravissants ! " 
 
 *'What are they?" cried Selina, with 
 breathless interest. 
 
 "I have not shown them to anybody: I 
 have kept them en cachette. I said to my 
 assistants, ' You put that up, and don't let it 
 be seen till Madame Dalreemp comes.' Il-y-a 
 une robe — une robe — une robe!" impres- 
 sively repeated Madame, turning up the 
 whites of her eyes — ^' ma chere dame, it 
 could only have been made for you ! " 
 
 Selina's eyes sparkled. She thought her- 
 self the especial protegee of the Damereau 
 establishment — as many another vain woman 
 had thought before, and would think again. 
 
 ^* Is it silk ? " she inquired. 
 
 ** No. Dentelle. Mais, quelle dentelle ! 
 Elle " 
 
 ^* Madame/' said one of the assistants, 
 putting in her head and speaking in a low 
 
230 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 tone, '^ the Countess wishes to see you before 
 she leaves/' 
 
 *' I am with her ladyship in the moment. 
 Madame Dalreemj), if you are not too hurried, 
 if you can wait till some of these ladies are 
 gone, the caisse shall be brought out. I 
 will not show it while they are here ; I want 
 you to have first view." 
 
 "I am in no hurry," rej^lied Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple. ** I have not been here for two 
 days, so shall give myself time to look 
 round." 
 
 As Selina did, and to gossip also. Several 
 of her acquaintances were present. Lady 
 Adela Grubb for one. Adela was looking a 
 little worn and weary. A discontented ex- 
 pression sat on her face, not satisfactory to 
 see, and she evidently did not take the en- 
 raptured interest in those fine articles, dis- 
 played around, that Selina took. Of course 
 they were all ''superbes" and '* ravissant," 
 as madam e was given to observe : still a 
 show-room, even such a one as this, tempting 
 though it undoubtedly is, does not bear for 
 everyone quite the fascination of the basilisk. 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 231 
 
 Amidst other ladies who came in was Se- 
 lina's old neighbour in the country, Mrs. 
 Cleveland, the rector's wife. Selina was 
 surprised. 
 
 *' I am only up for a day or two, my dear," 
 she said. ''I shall call in Berkeley Street 
 before I go back." 
 
 ^' And how is mamma ?" 
 
 " She is pretty well, my dear, and Alice 
 too. Mary Lynn is staying with them." 
 
 *^0h, is she? You never told me that," 
 added Selina, turning to Lady Adela. 
 
 Lady Adela's mouth took rather a scornful 
 curve. " Do you suppose Miss Lynn's move- 
 ments concern me, that I should hear of 
 them ? When did you see Aunt Margery 
 last, Mrs. Cleveland?" 
 
 '' At church, on Sunday." 
 
 *' How beautiful!" exclaimed Selina, as- 
 they were slowly walking round the room, to 
 look at the stock of displayed wares : some 
 on stands ranged against the walls, some 
 on a large centre table. The ladies moved 
 from one sight to another with enraptured 
 gaze. 
 
2 ■32 
 
 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ''What is beautiful?'' asked Mrs. Cleve- 
 land. ''That mantle?" 
 
 ' ' Which mantle ? That old dowdy black 
 silk thing ! I meant these sleeves. See, 
 there's a collar to match ! " 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," interrupted one of the 
 assistants, " we never had anything more 
 beautiful in the house." 
 
 " What are they ?" inquired Selina. 
 
 The young woman, attired in black silk 
 only a degree less rich than madame's and a 
 gold chain, her hair arranged in the newest 
 fashion, carried the sleeves to her mistress. 
 
 "What am I to ask ?" she said, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " Twelve guineas." 
 
 " It is for Mrs. Dalrymple." 
 
 " Oh ! I thought it was Madame Cliv-land. 
 Fifteen guineas," 
 
 "They are fifteen guineas, madam," said 
 the young person, returning. "And dirt 
 cheap." 
 
 " I inquired what description of lace it 
 was," said Mrs. Dalrymple. "Not the 
 price." 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 233 
 
 "''It is Venice point, madam. Eeal Venice 
 point." 
 
 *' I think I must have them," cried Mrs. 
 Dahymple. ^' Are they not tempting ?" 
 
 '*Not to me/' laughed Mrs. Cleveland. '' I 
 have too many little pairs of live arms to 
 provide for, to give that price for a pair of 
 sleeves." 
 
 "Only fifteen guineas!" remonstrated Se- 
 lina. '' And that includes the collar. I will 
 take these sleeves," she added to the young 
 woman. 
 
 ** Thank you, madam." 
 
 *' Those are pretty, that muslin pair." 
 
 *' Very pretty, madam, for morning. Will 
 you allow me to put these up with the 
 others?" 
 
 " I don't mind — yes, if you like," replied 
 Selina, never asking the price. " I saw Lord 
 Winchester just now," she resumed to Mrs. 
 Cleveland. *' I did not know he had re- 
 turned." 
 
 ** Only since a day or two, I believe. My 
 husband does not care to renew our acquain- 
 tance with him, so " 
 
234 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' Oh, wliat a love of a bonnet ! " un- 
 ceremoniously interrupted Mrs. Dalrymple, as 
 lier eye fell on a gossamer article, all white 
 lace and beauty, with something green spark- 
 ling and shining in it. 
 
 '* Ah,'' said madame, coming forward, '^ ce 
 chapeau me rend triste chaque fois que je le 
 vols." 
 
 *^Pourquoi?" demanded Selina, who was 
 not quite sure of her French, but liked to 
 plunge into a w^ord of it now and then. In 
 those days French was not so universal a 
 language, even in polite circles, as it is in 
 these. 
 
 " Parce que je ne suis pas dame, jeune et 
 belle. Ainsi je ne peux que le regarder de 
 loin. Mais madame est I'une et Tautre." 
 
 Selina blushed and smiled, and fixed her 
 eyes on the bonnet. 
 
 *^ It is a charming bonnet," observed Mrs. 
 Cleveland. *' What is the price ?'' 
 
 *' Thirteen guineas, madam.'' 
 
 Thirteen guineas ! Mrs. Cleveland shook 
 her head. Such bonnets were not for her. 
 
 '^ It is a high price," observed Selina. 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 235 
 
 *' High ! Mesdames have surely not re- 
 garded it closely. These are emeralds. Look 
 well, ma chere Madame Dalreemp. Emeralds. 
 It is the very cheajoest bonnet — for its real 
 value — that I have shown this season." 
 
 *'I think I will try it on," cried Selina. 
 
 Madame was not backward to follow the 
 thought. In a twinkling the bonnet was on 
 Selina's head, and herself at the glass. 
 Twitching the border and the flowers, 
 twitching her own hair, she at length turned 
 round with a radiant face, blushing in its 
 conscious beauty, as she spoke to Mrs. 
 Cleveland. 
 
 *' Is it not a sweet bonnet ?" 
 
 ' '• If you do not take it, it will be a sin 
 against yourself," interposed the bonnet's 
 present owner. " You never looked so well 
 in all your life, Madame Dalreemp. Your 
 face does set off that chapeau charmingly." 
 
 *' I will take it," decided Selina. " What 
 did you say it was ? Fifteen guineas ? " 
 
 ^' Thirteen, madame ; only thirteen. Ah ! 
 but it is cheap ! " 
 
 Mrs. Cleveland bought the mantle Selina 
 
236 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 had designated as dowdy, and a bonnet equally 
 so. Selina told her they were frightful ; fit 
 for an alms-house. 
 
 ''My dear, they are quiet, and will wear 
 well. I cannot afford more than one new 
 bonnet in a season. As to a mantle, it 
 generally lasts me three or four years.'' 
 
 "Look at this handkerchief/' inter^DOsed 
 Selina, thinking what a dreadful fate Mrs. 
 Cleveland's must be. ''I really think it 
 matches the sleeves and collar I have bought. 
 Yes, it does. I must have that." 
 
 "' That's a dear handkerchief, I know," 
 cried Mrs. Cleveland. '' What is it, Madame 
 Damereau ? " 
 
 " That — oh, but that's recherche, that is," 
 said madame, in a rapture. ''Nine guineas. 
 Ah!" 
 
 " Send it home with the other things," said 
 Selina. 
 
 "I am going," said Mrs. Cleveland. "I 
 have bought all I came to buy, and it is of no 
 use staying here to be tempted, unless one has 
 a long purse." 
 
 " The truth is, one forgets w^hether the 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 237 
 
 purse is long or short in the midst of these 
 enchanting things," observed Selina. 
 
 " I fear it is sometimes the case," was 
 Mrs. Clevehmd's reply. '' Are yon coming, 
 my dear ?" 
 
 *'Not yet," answered Selina. 
 
 Lady Adela went out with Mrs. Cleveland. 
 She had not given a single order ; had not 
 gone with any particular intention of giving 
 one, unless she saw anything to especially 
 take her fancy. But Madame Damereau's 
 was regarded as a favourite lounging place, 
 and the gay world of the gentler sex liked to 
 congregate there. 
 
 " Can I drive you anywhere ? " asked 
 Adela of Mrs. Cleveland, as they stood on 
 the steps of Madame Damereau's handsome 
 entrance door. '' Will you come home with 
 me?" 
 
 '' Thank you, I wish I could," was the 
 answer. '' But when I do come to London I 
 have so many little commissions to execute 
 that my time has to be almost entirely given 
 to them. I shall hope to call and see you 
 the next time." 
 
238 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' I wish you would come and stay with me 
 for a week," cried Adela quickly. ^' It would 
 be a charity — an oasis of pleasure in my 
 lonely life." 
 
 *' Lonely from the want of children," 
 thought Mrs. Cleveland, with a sad, faint 
 smile. 
 
 **Are you quite well?" asked Adela 
 quickly, some delicacy in Mrs. Cleveland's 
 face striking her. 
 
 *' I — hope I am," was the hesitating an- 
 swer. '^ At least, I hope that nothing serious 
 is amiss. It is true I have not felt quite 
 right lately, have suffered much pain ; and 
 one of my errands here is to see a physician. 
 He has made an appointment for to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 Adela renewed her invitation, wished her 
 good day, and watched the rather fragile form 
 away with a wistful look. They never saw 
 each other again in life. Before two months 
 had run their course, poor Mrs. Cleveland had 
 gone where pain and suffering are not. 
 
 Meanwhile, when the show-rooms had 
 thinned a little, Madame Damereau had the 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 239 
 
 ^' caisse " brought out : that is to say, the 
 contents of it. The caisse was taken for 
 granted ; the articles only appeared. The 
 chief one, the lace dress, new from Paris, 
 and secluded till that moment from covetous 
 eyes, was of a species of lace that madame 
 called Point d'Angleterre. Madame shook 
 out its folds with tender solicitude, and 
 displayed its temptations before Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple's enthralled eyes. Madame did not 
 speak : she let the dress do its own work : 
 her face spoke eloquently enough. Selina 
 was sitting on one of the low crimson 
 velvet ottomans, her parasol tracing uncon- 
 scious figures on the carpet, and her own 
 elegant silk gown spread out around her. 
 
 *' Oh dear!" she ejaculated, withdrawing 
 her enraptured gaze. *' But I fear it is very 
 dear." 
 
 "Never let madam talk about that," said 
 the Frenchwoman. "It is high; but — look 
 at it. One could not pick up such a dress, as 
 that, every day.'''' 
 
 " How 1 should like to have it ! " 
 
 " The moment we took this dress out of 
 
240 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the caisse, I said to Miss Atkinson, who was 
 helping me, ' That must be for Madame 
 Dah'eemp : there is no other lady who could 
 do it justice.' Madam," she quickly added^ 
 as if an idea had just occurred to her, ^' fancy 
 this robe, fine et belle, over a delicate pink 
 glace or a maize ! " 
 
 '* Or over white/' suggested Selina. 
 
 ^' Or over white : Madame Dalreemp's taste 
 is always correct. It would be a dre^s fit for 
 a duchess, too elegant for many of thenji." 
 
 Some silks of different colours were called 
 for, and the lace robe was displayed upon them 
 successively. Selina went into ecstasies when 
 the peach-blossom colour was underneath. 
 
 ** I must have it. What is the price ? " 
 
 *^Just one hundred guineas, neither more 
 nor less ; and to anybody but Madame Dal- 
 reemp I should say a hundred and twenty. 
 But I know that when once she appears in 
 this before the world, I shall have order upon 
 order. It will be, * Where did you get that 
 dress, ma chere Madame Dalreemp ? ' and 
 madam will answer, ' I got it of Damereau ; ' 
 and then they will come flocking to me. 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 241 
 
 Ainsi, ma bonne dame, I can afford to let yon 
 have your things cheap." 
 
 '' I don't know what to say/' hesitated 
 Selina, taking in, nevertheless, all the flattery; 
 *' A hundred guineas ! it is a great deal : and 
 what a bill I shall have ! that lace dress I 
 bought three weeks ago was only sixty." 
 
 ''What was that lace robe compared with 
 this?" was madame's indignant rejoinder. 
 '* That was nothing but common Guipure. 
 Look at what the effect of this will be ! x\h, 
 madam, if you do not take it I shall not sleep : 
 I shall be vexed to my heart. Just as madam 
 pleases, though, of course. Milady Grey did 
 come to me yesterday for a lace dress : I told 
 milady I should have one in a week's time : I 
 did not care for her to see it first, for she is 
 short, and she does not set off the things well. 
 I know she would give me one hundred and 
 twenty for this, and be glad to get it." 
 
 This was nearly the climax. Lady Grey, a 
 young and pretty woman, dressed as extrava- 
 gantly as did Mrs. Dalrymple, and there w^as 
 a hidden rivalry between them, quite well 
 known. 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
242 COURT NETHERLEIGII. 
 
 ** There is anotlier lady who would like it, 
 I know, and she has but just gone out — and 
 a most charming angel she is. I do speak of 
 the Lady Adela " 
 
 This was quite the climax, and Selina 
 hastily interrupted. Lady Adela was even 
 more lovely than she herself was : very much, 
 too, in the same style of delicate beauty. 
 What w^ould Adela be in that lace dress ! 
 
 '*I will take it," cried Selina. '^ I must 
 have a slip of that peach glace to wear under- 
 neath it." 
 
 " It will be altogether fit for a queen," 
 quoth madame. 
 
 " But could I have them home by to-morrow 
 night for Lady Burnham's party ? " 
 
 ^^Certainlv madam can." 
 
 "Very well then," concluded Selina. *' Or 
 
 — stay : would white look better under it, 
 
 after all ? I have ever so many white glace 
 slips." 
 
 Madame 's opinion was that no colour, ever 
 
 seen in the earth or in the air, could, or would 
 
 look as well as the peach. Milady Grey could 
 
 not wear peach ; she was too dark. 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 243 
 
 '' Yes, I'll decide upon the peach-blossom/' 
 
 concluded Selina. '^ But that's not a good 
 silk, is it ? " 
 
 **Si. Mais si, C'est de la sole cuite." 
 
 ** And that is all, I think, for to-day." 
 
 *' What will Madame Dalreemp wear in her 
 hair with this to-morrow night ?" 
 
 '*Ah! that's well thought of. It must 
 be either white or peach." 
 
 ^' Or mixed. Cherchez la boite, numero 
 deux," quietly added madame to an attendant. 
 
 Box, number two, was brought. And 
 madame disentangled from its contents of 
 flowers a beautiful wreath of peach-blossom 
 and white, with crystallised leaves. '' They 
 came in only to-day," she said. Which was 
 true. 
 
 " The very thing," cried Selina, in admira- 
 tion. '' Send that with the bonnet and 
 sleeves to-day." 
 
 ** Madam ought to wear amethysts with 
 this toilette," suggested Madame Damereau. 
 
 '^Amethysts ! I have none." 
 
 '' It is a great pity, that. They would look 
 superbe." 
 
244 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' I was admiring a set of amethysts the 
 other (lay," thought Selina, as she went 
 clown to her carriage. " I wish I could have 
 them. I w^onder whether they were very 
 out-of-the-way in point of cost ? I'll drive 
 there, and ascertain. I have had a good 
 many little things there that Oscar does not 
 know of/' 
 
 She entered her carriage, ordering it to the 
 jeweller's; and with her pretty face reposing 
 amidst its lace and its flowers, and her point- 
 lace parasol shading it, Mrs. Dalrymple, satis- 
 lied and happy, bowed right and left to the 
 numerous admiring faces that met and bowed 
 to her. 
 
 That same evening Madame Damereau, 
 having dined well and taken her coffee, pro- 
 ceeded to her usual business with her cashier, 
 Mrs. Cooper. A reduced gentlewoman, who 
 had tried the position of governess till she was 
 heart- sick, and thankfully left it for her pre- 
 sent situation, where she had less to do and 
 a liberal salary. Miss Atkinson and Miss 
 Wells, the two show-room assistants, came in. 
 It was necessary to give Mrs. Cooper a sum- 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 245 
 
 mary of the day's sale, that she might enter 
 the articles. They arrived, in due course, at 
 the account of Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 
 " Dress of Point d ' Angle terre," cried 
 Madame Damereau. *' One hundred guineas/' 
 
 " Which dress is it she has bought ? " in- 
 quired Mrs. Cooper, looking up from, her 
 writing. She had learnt to take an interest in 
 the sales and the customers. 
 
 '^The one that the Baroness ordered for 
 her daughter and would not have when it 
 came," explained madame. '^ I then sent it 
 to the Countess of Ac-corn, who was inquiring 
 about a lace robe yesterday morning : but it 
 seems she did not keep it. She never knows 
 her own mind tw^o hours together, that Milady 
 Ac-corn." 
 
 "It is a very nice dress," remarked Mrs. 
 Cooper. 
 
 ''It is a beauty," added Miss Atkinson. 
 *' And Lady Acorn need not have cried it 
 down." 
 
 "Did she cry it down?" quickly asked 
 madame. 
 
 " She said it w^as as dear as fire's hot." 
 
246 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 "Par exemple ! " uttered madame, with a 
 flashing face. " Did she say that ? '* 
 
 ** Yes, madame. So Roberts told me when 
 he brought it back/' 
 
 ** She's the most insolent customer we have, 
 that Femme Ac-corn/' exploded madame. 
 " And pays the worst. The robe would have 
 been cheap at the price I asked her — eighty 
 guineas.'' 
 
 *'Mrs. Dalrymple, lace robe, one hundred 
 guineas," read Mrs. Cooper. **What else — 
 making ? " 
 
 ** Making, two guineas. Peach glace slip 
 comes next." 
 
 '* Peach glace slip," wrote Mrs. Cooper. 
 *' The price, if you please ? " 
 
 * ^ Put it down in round figures . Ten guineas . 
 She did not ask." 
 
 ** I sold her those morning sleeves with the 
 little dots," interposed Miss Wells. '^ There 
 was no price mentioned, madame." 
 
 ** What were they marked ? " asked madame. 
 
 ** Fourteen and sixpence." 
 
 ** Put them down at a guinea, Mrs. Cooper. 
 Making peach glace slip — let me see, no 
 
WITH MADAME DAMEREAU. 247 
 
 lining or trimming — say fourteen shillings. 
 White point-lace bonnet, thirteen guineas. 
 Sleeves and collar — what did I say for that, 
 Miss Wells ? " 
 
 *' Fifteen guineas, madame : and the hand- 
 kerchief nine/' 
 
 ^' Sleeves, collar, and handkerchief of Venice 
 point, twenty-four guineas,'' read Mrs. Cooper. 
 '' She must be rich, this Mrs. Dalrymple." 
 
 ^'Comme ca, for that," quoth madame. 
 
 ''• She has had far more than a thousand 
 pounds in the last six weeks. I suppose you 
 are sure of her, madame ? She is a new 
 customer this season." 
 
 '' I wish I was as sure of getting to Paris 
 next year," responded madame. *'Her hus- 
 band has not long ago come into the Dalreemp 
 estate. And the English estates are fine, you 
 know. These young brides will dress and 
 have their fling, and they must pay for it. 
 They come tome: I do not go to them. The 
 Dalreemps are friends of the Cliv-lands, and 
 of those rich people in Grosvenor Square, the 
 Grubbs, which is quite sufficient passe-port. 
 You can go on now to Madame Cliv-land, 
 
248 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper: one black mantle, silk and lace, 
 three pounds ten shillings, and one fancy 
 straw bonnet, blue trimmings, three guineas." 
 
 '^ Is that all there is for Mrs. Cleveland ? " 
 
 Madame shrugged her shoulders. '* That's 
 all. I would not give thank you for the cus- 
 tom of Madame Cliv-land in itself; but they 
 are well connected, and she is a gentle, good 
 woman. I thought she looked ill to-day." 
 
 " There was Mrs. Dalrymple's WTeath," in- 
 terrupted Miss Atkinson, referring to a pencil 
 list in her hand. 
 
 '•' Tiens, I forgot," answered madame. 
 ** What w^ere those wreaths invoiced to us at. 
 Miss Wells ? This is the first of them sold." 
 
 '* Twenty-nine and sixpence each, madame." 
 
 ^'Peach-and-white crystallised wreath, Mrs. 
 Cooper, if you please. Forty -nine shillings." 
 
 ** Forty-nine shillings," concluded Mrs. 
 Cooper, making the entry. '* That is all, 
 then, for Mrs. Dalrymple." 
 
 And a pretty good '^all," for one day, it 
 was, considering Mr. Dalrymple's income. 
 
A 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 A LECTURE. 
 
 SMALL, friendly dinner-table, Mr. Griibb 
 and Lady Adela presiding. A thin, 
 sliarp-featured, insignificant little man, whose 
 evening clothes looked the worse for wear, 
 and who wore a black watered ribbon across 
 his waistcoat in lien of a gold chain, sat at 
 Lady Adela's right hand. It was Colonel 
 Hope. To look at him and his attire, you 
 would have said he did not know w^here to 
 turn for a shilling : yet he was the possessor 
 of great wealth, and had seen hard service in 
 India. Beside Mr. Grubb sat the Colonel's 
 wife, Lady Sarah ; a tall, portly woman, 
 whose face bore much resemblance to her 
 mother's, Lady Acorn. Grace and Frances 
 Chenevix and Mr. Howard, Mr. Grubb's 
 partner, completed the party : the latter was 
 a staid, stiff old gentleman of sixty, with 
 
250 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 iron-grey hair and whiskers, and a stern face. 
 He and the Colonel had known each other 
 in early life, when each had the world to fight 
 for fame or fortune. Each had fought it well, 
 and won; certainly so far as fortune was con- 
 cerned. The Colonel was just home from India, 
 and Mr. Grubb had given the two early friends 
 a s^Dcedy opportunity of meeting. One place 
 at table was empty, and the young lady who 
 sat next it, Frances Chenevix, did not look 
 quite pleased at its being so. It was intended 
 for Gerard Hope, who had somehow failed to 
 make his appearance. 
 
 Colonel Hope had retired from the army 
 and was come home for good. About a year 
 ago he and Lady Sarah had lost their two 
 sons, lads of seven and eight, from fever. 
 They had no other children, and it was gene- 
 rally supposed the Colonel would make his 
 nephew, Gerard, his heir. The Colonel and 
 his wife Avere both tired this evening, having 
 been looking at houses all day. Frances had 
 been with them, but she seemed fresh and 
 bright as a lark. The Colonel had bought 
 a pretty little property in Gloucestershire, 
 
A LECTURE. 251 
 
 but Lady Sarah wished for a town house 
 also. 
 
 . ''I think I shall take it, though it is rather 
 small," observed the Colonel, talking of one 
 of the houses they had seen. " There'd be 
 room for a friend or two as well as for our- 
 selves : and for Gerard also, if I decide to 
 adopt him. By the way — what is your 
 opinion of that young man, Grubb ?" 
 
 ''As to looks, do you mean. Colonel?" 
 smiled Mr. Grubb. '* They are good, I don't 
 know much else of him." 
 
 " Thought you did," growled the Colonel, 
 who was a hot-tempered man, and liked plain 
 answers to his questions. 
 
 " I know nothing against him," said Mr. 
 Grubb, emphatically. " I have seen but little 
 of him, but that little I like." 
 
 " He is very nice and very good, and quite 
 worthy to be adopted by you and Sarah, 
 Colonel," spoke up Lady Frances in her free 
 way. '' I'm sure the manner he slaves away 
 in that red-tape office he is chained to, ought 
 to be a gold feather in his cap." 
 
 " x\ gold feather?" repeated the literal 
 
252 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Colonel, looking at the speaker questioningly. 
 While Mr. Howard, who knew what " slaving 
 away '' amounted to in a red-tape office, in- 
 dulged in a silent laugh, 
 
 *' Well, ought to tell in his favour, I mean," 
 said Frances, amending her speech. 
 
 '' I suppose he only does what he is put to 
 do — his daily work,'' contended the Colonel. 
 '^ That he cannot shirk : he has nothing 
 to look to but his salary to pay his way. 
 There's no merit in doing one's simple 
 duty." 
 
 "I think there is a great deal, when it is 
 such hard work as Gerard's," contended 
 Frances. And this time Mr. Howard laughed 
 outright at the " hard work." 
 
 '^ Perhaps the hard work is keeping him 
 to-night," suggested Mr. Grubb, with just the 
 ghost of a smile. 
 
 *'No," said Frances, "I think the office 
 closes at four." 
 
 ** Oh," cried the Colonel. ''Where is he 
 then ? What does he mean by staying 
 away ? " 
 
 " He is run over, of course," said Frances, 
 
A LECTURE. 253 
 
 * and taken to the nearest hospital. Nothmg 
 short of that would have kept him away." 
 
 Lady Sarah Hope looked down the table 
 at her sister. " Is Gerard in love with you, 
 Frances ?'' 
 
 " In love with me ! " exclaimed the young 
 lady, her face flushing vividly. '' What ridicu- 
 lous fable will you imagine next, Sarah ? '' 
 
 " Is it a fable ? " added Lady Sarah, struck 
 with the flush. 
 
 '' What else should it be ? " laughed Frances. 
 '* Gerard could not think of falling in love 
 upon nothing a year. Nothing a year, and 
 find himself ! That has been his case, poor 
 fellow — or something near akin to it." 
 
 '' That may be remedied," remarked Lady 
 Sarah. She had caught up an opinion upon 
 the subject, and she held to it in future. 
 
 As the small line of ladies filed out of the 
 dining-room, Lady Sarah, walking first, turned 
 just outside the door to wait for her sister 
 Adela. Mr. Grubb, who was holding the 
 door open, said something to his wife in an 
 undertone as she passed him. Adela made no 
 answer whatever ; save that her lifted face 
 
254 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 put on a look of scorn, and her lips took a 
 downward curve. 
 
 *' What did your husband say to you?" 
 asked Lady Sarah, having fancied that she 
 heard her own name — Hope. 
 
 '' I don't know^ — or care. As if I should 
 listen to anything he might say ! '' contemptu- 
 ously added Lady Adela. 
 
 Lady Sarah stared. ^'Why, child, what do 
 you mean ? He is your husband." 
 
 '' To my cost." 
 
 **What do you mean? What does she 
 mean ?" continued Lady Sarah, appealing to 
 the other two sisters, for Adela had not deemed 
 it necessary to lower her voice. They did not 
 answer. Grace took up an album, her face 
 wearing a sad look of pain ; Frances walked 
 into the other drawing-room, 
 
 '' I insist upon knowing what you mean, 
 in saying that Mr. Grubb is your husband 
 to i]ouY cost," cried Lady Sarah, returning 
 to the charge. She was so much older than 
 Adela — looking, in fact, old enough to be 
 her mother, for India's sun and the loss of 
 her children had greatly aged her — that she 
 
A LECTURE. 255 
 
 took lier to task at will. Lady Sarah, like 
 her mother, had always displayed somewhat 
 of a propensity for setting the world to 
 rights. 
 
 '^ It is to my cost/' spoke Adela defiantly. 
 ^' That I should be his wife, obliged to stand 
 as such before the world, a man of his name, 
 a tradesman ! " And the emphatic scorn, the 
 stress of aversion laid on the '* his,'' no pen 
 could adequately express. ^^ I never hear 
 myself announced, ' Lady Adela Grubb,' but 
 I shiver ; I never see it in the Morning Post, 
 amid the lists at an entertainment, or perhaps 
 at Court, but I fling the paper from me. As 
 I should like to fling him," 
 
 ** Bless my heart and mind, what's in a 
 name?" demanded Lady Sarah, having lis- 
 tened like one astounded. 
 
 '^ Grubb ! Grubb !" hissed Adela from be- 
 tween her dainty lips. '^ There is a great 
 deal in that name, at any rate, Sarah. I 
 hate it. It is to me as a nightmare. And I 
 hate him for forcing me to bear it," 
 
 *' Forcing you to bear it ! Why, you are 
 his wife." 
 
256 COURT NE7HERLEIGH. 
 
 " I am — to my sliame. But he had no 
 right to make me his wife : to ask me to be 
 his wife. Why could he not have fixed upon 
 anybody else ? Grace, there, for instance. 
 She would not have minded the name or the 
 trade. She'd have got used to it — and to 
 him." 
 
 Lady Sarah Hope nodded her head four or 
 five times in succession. '*A pretty frame 
 of mind is that you are cherishing, Adela ! 
 Leave off such evil speaking — and thinking. 
 Your husband is a true gentleman, a man 
 that the world may be proud of; he can hold 
 his own as such anywhere. As to the house 
 in Leadenhall Street, it is of world-wide 
 fame — the idea of your calling him a ' trades- 
 man!' — Let me speak! — Where can you 
 find a man with so noble a presence, so re- 
 fined and sweet a countenance ? And I feel 
 sure that he is good and true and generous in 
 himself, as he is distinguished in reputation 
 and person." 
 
 '' All the same, I scorn him. I hate him 
 for having fixed on me. And it is the plea- 
 sure of my life to let him see that I do," con- 
 
A LECTURE. 257 
 
 eluded xidela, in sheer defiance, as she tossed 
 her pretty head. 
 
 "Cease, Adela, cease !" interposed Grace, 
 coming forward, hei* hands hfted imploringly. 
 ^' You little know the wickedness of what you 
 are saying ; or the evil you may be laying up 
 for yourself in the days to come. This is 
 not your true nature ; you are but forcing it 
 upon yourself, to gratify a resentment you 
 have persistently taken up. How often have 
 I prayed to you to be your own true self ! '' 
 
 '^Pray for it yourself, child," cried Lady 
 Sarah, laying her hand wdth a firm grasp 
 upon iVdela's shoulder. *^Pray upon your 
 bended knees to Heaven, to snatch and shield 
 you from Satan. Most assuredly he has got 
 into you.'' 
 
 ''What has got into me?" asked Adela, 
 with languid indifference, not having caught 
 the words. 
 
 " The devil,'' angrily amended Lady Sarah. 
 
 That infant of Lady Adela's, little George, 
 did not live. Just for a month or two, just 
 long enough for her to get passionately at- 
 tached to him, to use every means to make 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
253 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 him strong, lie lingered. Then there came 
 three clays of illness, and the little soul fled 
 from the feeble frame. No other child had 
 been born, and Lady Adela seemed to be 
 left with no end or aim in life, save that of 
 cherishing resentment against Mr. Grubb. She 
 took it up more fiercely than ever, and she 
 let him feel it to his heart's core. The still, 
 small voice of conscience, warning her that 
 this was a forced and unnatural state of mind, 
 could not always be deadened. The very 
 fact of its pricking her caused her to resent 
 the pricks, and to nourish her ill-omened 
 temper the more persistently. Francis Grubb's 
 life was not one of fair skies and rose-leaves. 
 
 " I should like to shake it out of her — and 
 I wonder he does not do it," ran the thoughts 
 of Frances Chenevix, as she opened the piano 
 in the next room and began to pla^^ a dashing 
 march. 
 
 Very especially just now w^as the Lady 
 Adela Grubb resenting things in general. 
 Captain Stanley — who had set up a flirtation 
 with her when she was but a slip of a girl, 
 and with whom it had pleased her to fancy 
 
A LECTURE, 259 
 
 herself iu love after lie sailed for India, 
 though that was pure fancy and not fact — 
 had taken no notice of her now that ho was 
 home again, save that demanded by the ordi- 
 nary usages of society; and at this Lady 
 Adela felt mortified — slighted. He had not 
 as much as said to her, ** So w^e are both 
 married, you and I ; we cannot sit in corners 
 any more to talk in whisjoers:" on the con- 
 trary, he spent his time talking with newxr 
 beauties, Selina Dalrymple for one. It w^as 
 quite the behaviour of a bear, decided Adela ; 
 and she was resenting it by showing temper 
 to the world. 
 
 Frances Chenevix dashed through the 
 march. Its last bars were dying into silence, 
 when she thought she heard footsteps on the 
 stairs. Going to the door, she saw Gerard 
 Hope. 
 
 *' "Well, and what account have you to give 
 of yourself?" began Frances, as he took her 
 hand. 
 
 *'I was at a water party at Richmond, '' 
 breathlessly answered Gerard, who had been 
 having a race with time. 
 
26o COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *' Well I'm sure ! And here have I been 
 vowing to them that nothing could have kept 
 you but being run over in the streets ; and 
 Colonel Hope thinks you are detained over 
 the red-tape duties. You might have come 
 for once, Gerard." 
 
 » *' I couldn't possibly, Frances; I couldn't 
 land ; and then I had to dress. The tide 
 kept us out. It has vexed me above a bit, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 ^' You look vexed," she retorted, regarding 
 his laughing countenance. 
 
 *^ I am vexed; but it is of no use to 
 weep over it. You know I want to stand well 
 with my uncle. I suppose you have finished 
 dinner ?" 
 
 *' Ao:es ao^o." 
 
 ** Where are the rest of you ladies ?" 
 
 *'In the next room, quarrelling. Lady 
 Sarah is treating Adela to a bit of her mind — 
 and she deserves it. Now, Gerard, behave 
 yourself. What do you want to come so 
 close to me for ?" 
 
 For Mr. Gerard Hope was squeezing him- 
 self beside her on a small ottoman, meant for 
 
A LECTURE. 261 
 
 only one portly personage. He did more 
 than that : he stole his arm round her waist. 
 
 *' I believe Uncle Hope wants to adopt 
 me," cried Gerard. ^^ Won't it be jolly ! No 
 more scratch, scratch, scratch away with a 
 pen all the blessed day." 
 
 '' I called it ' slavery ' to them just now," 
 interrupted Frances. 
 
 '* Good girl ! No more getting up by 
 candle-light in winter, and trudging off 
 through the frost and through the thaw with- 
 out breakfast, which you have not had time to 
 take ! It will be a change — if he does it. 
 I'm not sure of it yet." 
 
 *' You don't deserve it, Gerard." 
 
 '^ No ! Why don't I ? I'd try and be a 
 good nephew to him — as dutiful as the good 
 boy in the spelling-book. I say, Frances, has 
 he been asking about me ? — getting references 
 as to character ? " 
 
 '* Yes, he has," was the perhaps unexpected 
 answer. *' Just as if you were a footman. 
 Mr. Grubb said he did not know much of you ; 
 but what he did know he liked. Hark ! They 
 are cominoj out of the dininoj-room. And if 
 
262 COURT NETHtRLEIGH. 
 
 you want any dinner you had better go there 
 and ring for it/' 
 
 " Perhaps there's none left for me.'* 
 Frances laughed. *' I heard Mr. Grubb 
 whisper to his wife that if Gerard Hope came 
 he was to go into the dining-room." 
 
 Gerard rose, went out, and met the gentle- 
 men. Frances stayed where she was, and fell 
 into a reverie. Did Gerard really love her ? 
 At times she thought so, at others she thought 
 not. 
 
 The days wore onwards in their rapid flight. 
 Time does not stand still even for those 
 favoured ones who are plunged, for the first 
 time, into the allurements of a London season : 
 as v/as Selina Dalrymple. 
 
 One bright morning, when the sun was 
 shining brilliantly and the skies were blue and 
 the streets warm and dusty, she sat in the 
 breakfast-room with her husband. The late 
 meal was over, and Selina, a hot colour in her 
 cheeks, was drumming her pretty foot on the 
 floor, and not looking the essence of good- 
 humour. She wore a richly embroidered white 
 
A LECTURE. 263 
 
 dress witJi pink ribbons. Mr. Dalrymple's 
 eyes liad rarely rested on a fairer 'woman, and 
 his heart knew it too well. 
 
 ^'Selina, I asked you last night whether 
 you intended to go to Lady Burnham's break- 
 fast, at that rural villa of theirs. Of course if 
 3'ou go I will accompany you, otherwise I have 
 some business I should like to attend to on 
 Thursday.'' 
 
 ^' I can't go," answered Selina. "I have 
 nothing to wear." 
 
 '^ Nothing to wear ! " 
 
 "Nothing on earth." 
 
 " How can you say so ? " 
 
 " I did think of ordering a suitable toilette 
 for it, and was at Damereau's about it 
 yesterday. But after what you said last 
 night " 
 
 ** My dear, w^hat do you mean ? what did I 
 say ? Only that you seemed, to me, never to 
 appear in the same gown, whether at home or 
 out ; and I begged you to remember that our 
 income was limited." 
 
 " You said I changed my dresses four times 
 a day, Oscar." 
 
264 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *'WelL Don t you?" 
 
 *' But everybody else does. Some change 
 them five times. You would not like me to 
 come down in the morning and go up to bed 
 at night in the same dress, would you ? " 
 
 *' I suppose not. It's of no use asking me 
 about dress, Selina. I scarcely know one 
 gown from another. But it does strike me 
 that you have a most extraordinary number of 
 new things. Go out or come in when I will, 
 there's sure to be the milliner's porter and 
 basket at the door." 
 
 *' Would you have me look an object ? " 
 
 ** You never do look an object." 
 
 '' Of course I don't. I guard against it. 
 I'd give the world to go to this fete at the 
 Burnhams'. Every soul will be there, but 
 me." 
 
 ** And why not you, if your heart is so set 
 upon it ? I think all such affairs a stupid 
 bore : but that's nothing." 
 
 * ' Would you wish me to go there in a 
 petticoat ? " 
 
 *'No, I suppose not. I tell you I am no 
 judge of a lady's things. I don't think I 
 
A LECTURE. 265 
 
 should know a petticoat from a gown. Those 
 are gowns, are they not, hanging in rows 
 round the walls in the rooms above, and 
 covered up wdth sheets and table-cloths." 
 
 '' Sheets and table-cloths ! Oscar ! 
 
 '' My dear, they look like it.'' 
 
 ^* Well — if they are gow^ns — there's not one 
 I can wear." 
 
 *' They are all new recently," said Mr. 
 Dalrymple, *' What's the matter with them ? " 
 
 *' There's not one I can wear," persisted 
 his wife. 
 
 *' But why ? " 
 
 '* Why ! " repeated Mrs. Dalrymple, in 
 quite a contemptuous tone, for she had no 
 patience with ignorance. '^ You ought to 
 know why ! " 
 
 ** My dear, I really don't. If you wish me 
 to know, you must tell me." 
 
 '' I have worn them all once,'' was the angry 
 answer. '*And some twice, and some three 
 
 times. And one Oscar," she broke off, 
 
 '^ you remember that lovely one ; a sky blue, 
 shot with white; a robe a disposition ? " 
 
 *^ What is 'a disposition' ?" 
 
266 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 "Oh — a silk, flounced, and the flounces 
 have some design upon them, embossed, or 
 raised, sometimes of a different colour. That 
 dress I have worn five times. I really have, 
 Oscar ; five times ! " 
 
 " I wear my coats fifty times five." 
 
 *' The idea of my being seen at Lady 
 Burnham's in a dress I have worn before ! 
 No, I'd rather go in a petticoat, of the two 
 evils, and hide my head for ever afterwards.'' 
 
 Mr. Dalrymple was puzzled. '' Why could 
 you not be seen, there or anywhere else, in a 
 dress you have w^orn before ? " 
 
 " Because nobody else is." 
 
 *' Then what becomes of all the new 
 gow^ns ?" inquired the wondering man. 
 
 " For goodness' sake do not keep on call- 
 
 J ? ) 
 
 ing them * gowns. 
 
 *' Dresses, then. What becomes of them?" 
 
 *^ Oh — they do for the country. Some 
 few, by dint of re -trimming, can be made to 
 look new for town. You don't understand 
 ladies' dress, Oscar." 
 
 *' I have said I do not." 
 
 *' Neither ought you," added Selina, 
 
A LECTURE. 267 
 
 crossly. '*We do not worry ourselves to 
 interfere between you and your tailors, or pry 
 into the shape and make of your waistcoats 
 and buttons and things, and we do not expect 
 to have it done by us." 
 
 *' Selina, let your grievance come to an 
 end. I do not like to hear this tone of 
 reproach." 
 
 '^ Then you must retract what you said last 
 night. It was as if you wanted me never to 
 have a new dress again." 
 
 •^ Nay, Selina, I only reminded you how 
 small our income w^as. You must not over- 
 look that." 
 
 ** Don't be foolish, Oscar. Do you fear I 
 am going to ruin you ? What's the cost of a 
 few dresses ? I must have one for Lady 
 Burnham's fete." 
 
 " My dear, have what you like, in reason," 
 he said, in the innocence of his unconscious 
 heart: ''you are the best judge. Of course 
 I can trust you." 
 
 The words were as the sweetest music in 
 her ear. She sprang up, dancing to a scrap 
 of a song. 
 
268 COURT NETHERLEICH. 
 
 *' You dear, good Oscar ! I knew you were 
 never going to be an old griffin. I think I 
 must have that lovely green-and-white gauze. 
 It was the most magnificent dress. I was 
 di^dded between that and a lemon-coloured 
 damask. I'll have the gauze. And gauze 
 dresses cost nothing." 
 
 '^Nothing?" 
 
 ** Next to nothing." 
 
 Selina flew up stairs. She pulled aside 
 the "sheets and table-cloths," and glanced 
 underneath. It was a goodly stock of robes ; 
 but yet not all the stock : for the lace, and 
 muslin, and flimsy gauze, and delicate white, 
 and delicate pearl, and delicate pink, and 
 delicate other shades, were reposing in 
 drawers, out of sight, between folds of tissue 
 paper. Barege and balzarine : satin, plain 
 and figured ; velvet ; silk, plain, damask, 
 flowered, shot, corded, and of all the colours 
 of the rainbow. Beautiful dresses ; and yet 
 — new, and rich, and elegant as they were, 
 Selina Dalrymple could not go to the fete 
 without a new one ! 
 
 Away she went to Madame Damereau's. 
 
A LECTURE, 269 
 
 Astonishing that renowned artiste by the 
 early hour of her visit. 
 
 ** I want a thousand things," began Sehna, 
 in the blitheness of her heart. *'Have you 
 sold the green-and- white gauze dress ? " 
 
 No, was madame's answ^er, she had kept it 
 on purpose for Madame Dalreemp. Milady 
 Ac-corn had come in yesterday afternoon late, 
 and wanted it, but she had told milady it was 
 sold. 
 
 Selina took it all in. The fact was, madame 
 had tried to persuade milady Ac-corn into it, 
 but milady w^as proof against the price. She 
 had wanted it for Frances. It w^as only 
 seventeen guineas, and that included the 
 fringe and trimmings. Selina had told her 
 husband that gauze dresses cost nothing ! 
 
 *' I W'ant it for the breakfast on Thursday," 
 cried Selina. '* What mantle can I w^ear ?" 
 
 A momentous question. They ran over in 
 memory the mantles, scarfs, fichus, possessed 
 by Mrs. Dalrymple, and came to the con- 
 clusion that not one of them w^ould *^ go 
 with " the gauze dress. 
 
 "' I have a lace mantle," said madame — 
 
270 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *^ all ! but it is recherche ! — a real Brussels. 
 If there is one robe in my house that it ought 
 to go with, it is that green -and- white." 
 
 She brought it forward and exhibited it 
 upon the dress. Very beautiful ; of that 
 there was no doubt. It was probably a 
 beautiful price also. 
 
 *' Twenty-five guineas." 
 
 *' Oh my goodness — twenty-five guineas ! " 
 cried Selina. ^' But 111 take it. A break- 
 fast fete does not come every day." 
 
 For a wonder — for a wonder — Selina, 
 having exhibited her white lace bonnet with 
 the emeralds but twice, came to the con- 
 clusion that that '' would do." Not that she 
 hesitated at buying another, but that it was 
 so suitable to the green-and- white dress. 
 
 • *' x\nd now for Oh, stop ; I think I 
 
 must have a new parasol. My point-lace one 
 is soiled, and I caught it in my bracelet the 
 other day and tore it a little. You had a 
 beautiful point-lace parasol here yesterday. 
 Let me see it." 
 
 *' The one you were looking at yesterday 
 will not do," cried madame. *'It is lined 
 
A LECTURE. ^ 271 
 
 with blue : Madame Dalreemp knows tliat 
 blue can never go with the green dress. I 
 have got one parasol — ah, but it is a beauty ! 
 — a point-lace, lined with white. I will get 
 it. It does surpass the other." 
 
 It did surpass the other, and in price also. 
 Selina chose it. It was twenty guineas. 
 
 *^My husband thought I could have w^orn 
 one of my old dresses," observed Selina, as 
 she turned over some gloves; 'Mie says I 
 have a great many. But one can only appear 
 in a perfectly fresh toilette at a magnificent 
 gathering such as this is to be." And madame 
 fully assented. 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple went to the breakfast, and 
 she and her attire were lovely amidst the 
 lovely, exciting no end of admiration. Very 
 gratifying to her heart, then topsy-turvey 
 with vanity. And so it went on to the end 
 of the season, and her pleasurable course was 
 never checked. 
 
 When they were preparing to return to the 
 Grange, and her maid was driven wild with 
 perplexity as to the stowing away of so ex- 
 tensive a w^ardrobe, and conjecturing that the 
 
272 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 carriage down of it would alone come to 
 '* something," it occurred to Selina, as she 
 sat watching, that the original cost would 
 also come to ^' something." Some hundreds, 
 she feared, now she came to see the whole 
 collection in a mass. 
 
 ^* Of course I shall not let Oscar see the 
 bill," she soliloquised. *' I'll get it from 
 madame before I leave : and then there'll be 
 no fear of its coming to him at the Grange." 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple asked for the bill ; and 
 madame, under protest that there was no 
 hurry in the world, promised to send it in. 
 
 Selina was alone, sitting in the drawing- 
 room by twilight, when the account w^as de- 
 livered to her ; it was enclosed in a large 
 thick envelope, wdth an imposing red seal. 
 She opened it somewhat eagerly. *' What 
 makes it such a bulk ?" she thought. **0h, 
 I see ; she has detailed the things." 
 
 Holding it close to the window, she looked 
 at the bottom of the page, and saw j£94. 
 
 *' Ninety-four pounds!" ejaculated Selina. 
 ^' What does madame mean? It must be 
 more than that," 
 
A LECTURE. 273 
 
 She lighted the little taper on her writing- 
 table ; and then found she had been looking 
 at one item only — the Venice point-lace for 
 the decoration of a dress. So she turned the 
 page and looked at the foot of the next. 
 
 *' Antique robe, lace, trimmings, and sap- 
 phire buttons, =£125. Tush!'' impatiently 
 exclaimed Selina. 
 
 With a rapid movement she turned the 
 account over to the end, and gazed at the 
 sum total ; gazed at it, started at it, and re- 
 coiled from it. Three thousand and odd 
 pounds, odd shillings, and no pence ! What 
 the odd pounds were, whether one, or whether 
 nine hundred and ninety-nine, she did not 
 catch in that moment of terror ; the first 
 grand sum of three thousand absorbed her 
 eyes and her faculties. And there floated 
 over her a confused consciousness of other 
 bills to come in : one from the jeweller's, 
 one for shawls, one for expensively trimmed 
 linen. There was one shawl, real India — 
 but she dared not think of that. '' Oscar 
 will say I have been mad,'' she groaned. 
 
 No doubt he would. 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 At that moment she heard his step, coming 
 in from the dining-room, and tm'ned sick. 
 She crushed the bill in her right hand and 
 thrust it down the neck of her dress. Then 
 she blew out the taper, and turned, with a 
 burning brow and shrinking frame, to the 
 window again, and stood there, apparently 
 looking out. Selina had never attempted to 
 sum up what she had bought. At odd mo- 
 ments she hacl feared it might come to some- 
 thing like a thousand pounds. 
 
 Oscar came up and put his arm around 
 her, asking whether it w^as not time to have 
 lights. 
 
 ^'Yes. Presently.'* 
 
 "What in the world have you got here ?" 
 cried he. "A ball?'* 
 
 She pushed the ^'ball" higher up, and 
 murmured something about ''some paper." 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Selina ? 
 You are trembling." 
 
 "The night air, I suj^pose. It is rather 
 chilly." 
 
 Yet the night was hot. Mr. Dalrymple 
 immediately began to close the window. He 
 
A LECTURE. 275 
 
 was a minute or two over it, for one of the 
 cords was rough and did not go well. When 
 he turned round again, his wife had left the 
 room. 
 
 *' Selina does not seem very well," thought 
 Oscar, 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FOLLY. 
 
 'T'HERE is no misfortune on eartli so great 
 as that of a troubled conscience : there 
 is nothing that will wear the spirits and the 
 frame like a burdensome secret that may not 
 be told. It will blanch the cheek and sicken 
 the heart ; it will render the day a terror and 
 the bed weary ; so that the unhappy victim 
 will be tempted to say with Job : When shall 
 I arise and the night be gone ? He is full of 
 tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the 
 day : his sleep is scared with dreams and 
 terrified with visions. 
 
 Had Mrs. Oscar Dalrymple been of a 
 different temperament, this unhappy state of 
 mind would have been hers. But she had no 
 very deep feeling. Troubled in a degree she 
 undoubtedly was. That terrible secret, the 
 debts she had incurred, lay on her mind 
 
FOLL V. 277 
 
 always in a greater or a less degree ; for she 
 knew that wdien her husband paid them he 
 would be half ruined ; certainly crippled for 
 years and years. 
 
 Another season had come round and was at 
 its height ; and Mr. and Mrs. Dalrymple had 
 again come up to it. The past autumn and 
 winter had been spent at Moat Grange, which 
 Selina found insufferably dull, and where her 
 chief solace and recreation consisted in looking 
 over her beautiful and extensive wardrobe, 
 and trying on portions of it in private. A 
 very negative sort of enjoyment. Where w^as 
 the use of possessing these divine dresses and 
 adjuncts, when no field was afforded for their 
 display ? Selina had ventured to wear one 
 costly robe on a certain evening that she 
 dined at Court Netherleigh, and was severely 
 taken to task by her mother, who was the 
 only other guest, and by Miss Upton, for 
 appearing in such *' finery." They asked her 
 what she meant by such extravagance. And 
 that before Oscar too ! Selina blushed a little 
 and laughed it off; but she mentally wondered 
 what would have been said had she put on 
 
278 COURT NETHERLEICH. 
 
 her very finest, or if they saw the stock at 
 home. 
 
 During the winter Selina had a fever, 
 brought on, it was thought, from exposing 
 herself unduly to damp. She grew better, but 
 was somewhat delicate and very capricious. 
 Oscar, loving her intensel}^ grew to humour 
 her fancies and to pet her as if she were a 
 spoiled child. Her conscience reproached her 
 now and then for the tacit deceit she was en- 
 acting, in thus suffering him to live in blissful 
 ignorance of their true position ; but on the 
 whole it did not trouble her greatly. Alice, 
 her sensitive sister, would have died under it ; 
 Selina contrived to exist very comfortably. 
 
 ' ' If you found out that I had done anything 
 dreadfully wrong, would you quite kill me ? " 
 she playfully said to him one day. 
 
 *'Dare say I should," answered Oscar, 
 putting on a face of mock severit3\ *' Might 
 depend, perhaps, upon what the thing was." 
 
 '^Ah, no; 3'ou'd just scold me for five 
 minutes, and then kiss and be friends. I always 
 said you'd never turn out to be an old griffin." 
 
 That was the nearest approach Selina ever 
 
FOLLY, 279 
 
 made towards confessing to her husband. 
 And Oscar had but looked upon it as a bit of 
 passing pleasantry. 
 
 Alice Dalrymple had left her mother's house 
 to become companion to Lady Sarah Hope. 
 During a week's visit that Colonel Hope and 
 his wife made to Miss Upton in the autumn 
 — it was soon after they had got into their 
 new house in London — AHce had also been 
 staying at Court Netherleigh. One day Lady 
 Sarah chanced to say she wished she could 
 find some nice young gentlewoman, who 
 would come to her in the capacity of com- 
 panion ; upon which AUce said, ''Would you 
 take me ? " '' Ay, and be glad to get you," 
 returned Lady Sarah, supposing that AHce 
 had spoken in jest. Alice, however, was in 
 earnest. She could not bear to be living on 
 the charity of Oscar Dalrymple, for she 
 shrewdly guessed that Selina threw as much 
 expense on him as he could well afford ; and 
 Alice quite believed that her mother, devoted 
 to the care of her poultry, her birds, and her 
 flowers, would not miss her. So the bargain 
 was struck. *' And please remember, Lady 
 
28o COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Sarah, that I come to you entirely as com- 
 panion, prepared to fulfil all a companion's 
 duties, and not merely as a visitor," Alice 
 gravely said ; and she meant it. 
 
 Selina was vexed when she heard of the 
 arrangement. She went straight down to her 
 mother's cottage, and upbraided Alice sharply. 
 *' It is lowering us all," she said to her. '^ A 
 companion is next door to a servant ; every- 
 body knows that. It will be just a disgrace 
 to the name of Dalrymple." 
 
 ''Very well, Selina; then, as you think 
 that, I will drop the name," returned Alice. 
 '' I v;as christened Alice Seaton, you know, 
 after my godmother, and I will be called Miss 
 Seaton at Lady Sarah's." 
 
 *' Stuff and nonsense, child ! " retorted 
 Selina. '' You may call yourself Seaton all 
 the world over, but all the world will know 
 still that you are Alice Dalrymple." 
 
 Alice entered upon her new home in London, 
 and gravely told everybody in it that she 
 wished to be called by her second name, 
 Seaton. Lady Sarah laughed, and promised 
 to humour her as often as she could recollect. 
 
FOLLY, 281 
 
 In December, Colonel Hope had formally 
 adopted his nephew, Gerard. The young man 
 threw up his post in the red-tape office (not 
 at all a wise thing to do), and took up his abode 
 with his uncle. They all went down to the 
 Colonel's place in Gloucestershire to spend 
 Christmas, including Frances Chenevix, who 
 almost seemed to have been as much adopted 
 as Gerard, so frequently was she staying with 
 them. Christmas passed ; they came to London 
 again, and things went on smoothly and gaily 
 until just before Easter, when a fracas occurred. 
 Gerard Hope contrived in some way to offend 
 the Colonel and Lady Sarah so implacably 
 that they discarded him ; frequent growls had 
 ended in a quarrel. Gerard was insolent, and 
 the Colonel, hot and peppery, turned him out 
 of the house. They went again into Glouces- 
 tershire for Easter, Alice with them as com- 
 panion and Frances as a guest ; but not Gerard. 
 In fact, so far as one might judge, he was 
 discarded for ever. 
 
 The cause was this : Lady Sarah, detecting 
 the predilection of her sister Frances for the 
 young man, and believing that he was equally 
 
282 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 attached to her, went out of her way and her 
 pride to offer her to him. Gerard had refused 
 it point blank. No wonder Lady Sarah was 
 angry ! 
 
 The sweet month of June came round 
 again, and the London season, as I have said, 
 was at its height. Amidst those who were 
 plunging headlong into its vanities was Selina 
 Dalrymple. She had coaxed and begged and 
 praj^ed her husband to give her just another 
 month or two of it this year, assuring him 
 she should die if he did not. And Oscar, 
 though wincing at the cost, knowing well he 
 could not and ought not to afford it, at length 
 gave in. It appeared that he could deny her 
 nothing. The expenses of the previous season 
 were far more than he had expected, and as 
 yet he had not been able to discharge them 
 all. Apart, this, from his wife's private 
 expenses, of which he as yet remained in 
 ignorance. 
 
 It may be questioned, however, whether 
 Selina enjoj^ed this second season quite as 
 much as she had the last. The visiting and 
 the gaiety and the homage were as captivating 
 
FOLL Y. 283 
 
 as ever, but she lived in a kind of terror ; for 
 Madame Damereau was pressing for the pay- 
 ment of her account. If that came to Oscar's 
 knowledge, he would not only do to her, she 
 hardly knew what, perhaps even box her ears, 
 but he would be quite certain to carry her 
 forthwith from this delightful London life to 
 that awful prison. Moat Grange, at Netlier- 
 leigh. 
 
 One afternoon Oscar was turning out of 
 his temporary home in Berkeley Street — for 
 they had the same rooms as last year — 
 when he saw coming towards him a young 
 lady who walked a little lame. It was Alice 
 Dalrymple. 
 
 '' Ah, Alice ! " he cried. ^^ Have 3'ou come 
 to London?" 
 
 '* Yes," she replied. '' Lady Sarah is 
 better, and we left Gloucestershire yesterday, 
 to join the Colonel here : he has been writing 
 for us for more than a week past. Is Selina 
 at home ? " 
 
 '' She is, for a wonder. Waiting for some- 
 body she intends to go out with." 
 
 " How is she ?" 
 
284 COURT NETHERLEIGII. 
 
 **I cannot tell you how she is. llatlier 
 strange, it seems to me." 
 
 '' Strange ! " 
 
 *^ Take my arm, Alice, and walk with me a 
 few paces. There's something the matter 
 with Selina, and I cannot make it out," con- 
 tinued Mr. Dalrymple. *' She acts for all the 
 world as if she had committed some crime. I 
 told her so the other day." 
 
 '* Acts in what way ? " cried Alice. 
 
 ** She's frightened at her own shadow. 
 When the post used to come in at the Grange 
 she w^ould watch for the boy, dart down the 
 path and seize the letters, as if she feared I 
 might read the directions of hers. When she 
 was recovering from that fever, and I would 
 take her letters in to her, she more than 
 once became blanched and scared. Often 
 I ask her questions, or address remarks to 
 her, and she is buried in her own thoughts, 
 and does not hear me. She starts and 
 moans in her sleep ; twice lately I have 
 awakened in the middle of the night and 
 found her gone from the bed and pacing the 
 dressing-room." 
 
FOLLY. 28 j 
 
 " You alarm me,"' exclaimed Alice. '* What 
 
 can it be ? " 
 
 '' I can only suppose that her nerves are 
 overwrought with all these follies she is 
 plunged into. It is nothing but turmoil and 
 excitement ; turmoil and excitement from day 
 to day. I was a fool to come here again this 
 vear, and that's the truth." 
 
 *' Selina had always led so very quiet a life," 
 murmured Alice. 
 
 *' Of course she had; and it has been a 
 wonderful change for her ; enough to upset 
 the nervous system of a delicate w^oman. 
 Selina has not been too strong since she had 
 that fever." 
 
 *' She ought to keep more quiet." 
 
 " She ought ; but she will not. Before we 
 came up I told her she must not do as she 
 did last year; and I thought she did not mean 
 to. Alice, she is mad after these gay frivolities ; 
 worse than she was last summer, I do believe 
 — and that need not be. I wished not to 
 come ; I told Selina why — the expense, and 
 other reasons — but she w^ould. She icoiild, 
 Alice. I wonder what it is that cHins her 
 
286 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 mind to this Babel of a city. I hate it. Go 
 you in and see her, Alice. I can't stay now, 
 for I have an appointment." 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple was in her bed-room when 
 Alice entered, dressed, and waiting to go out : 
 dressed with an elegance regardless of expense. 
 
 *' Good gracious, child, is it you ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 When the first moments of meeting had 
 passed, Alice sat down and looked at her 
 sister : her cheek was thin, and its brilliant 
 bloom told more of hectic than of health. 
 
 ^^ Selina ! " exclaimed Alice, '* what is the 
 matter ? You are much altered." 
 
 '^ Am I ? People do alter. You are altered. 
 You look ill." 
 
 '^Not more so than usual," replied Alice. 
 '* I get w^eaker with time. But you are ill : I 
 can see it. You look as if you had something 
 preying on your mind." 
 
 *' Nonsense, Alice. You are fanciful." 
 
 '' What is it ? " persisted xilice. 
 
 " If I have, your knowing it would do me 
 no good, and would worry you. x\nd yet," 
 added Mrs. Dalrymple, '' I think I will tell 
 
FOLLY. 2^-j 
 
 you. I have felt lately, Alice, that I must 
 tell somebody !" 
 
 Alice laid gentle hold of her. *' Let us sit 
 down on the sofa, as we used to sit together 
 at the Grange, when we were really sisters. 
 But, Selina, if you have wanted a confidant 
 in any grief, who so fit to be that as your 
 husband ? " 
 
 ^^He!" cried Selina— '' /i6 / It is the 
 dread of his knowing it — the anxiety I am in, 
 daily and hourly, to keep it from him — that 
 is wearing me out. Sometimes I say to 
 myself, ' What if I put an end to it all, as 
 Eobertdid?'" 
 
 Alice was accustomed to the random figures 
 of speech her sister was at moments given to 
 use ; nevertheless her heart stood still. 
 
 ^* "What is it that you have done, Selina ? " 
 
 *' Euined Oscar." 
 
 *' Euined Oscar ! '' 
 
 ^' And ruined myself with him," added 
 Selina in a reckless tone, as she took off her 
 bonnet with a jerk and let it lie in her lap. 
 ^' I have contracted debts that neither he nor 
 I can pay, thousands upon thousands ; and 
 
288 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 the worry of it, the constant, incessant dread 
 of discovery, is rendering my life a — I will not 
 mij what — upon earth." 
 
 *' Debts ! thousands upon thousands ! " 
 confusedly uttered Alice. 
 ''li is so." 
 
 *' How did you contract them ? Not as — 
 as — Robert did ? Surely that infatuation is 
 not come upon you ? " 
 
 '' No. But that infatuation, as you call it, 
 is in fashion in our circles just now. I could 
 tell you of one young lad}^, whom you know, 
 who amuses herself with it pretty largely." 
 ** A young lady ! " 
 
 *' She is younger than I am — but she's 
 married," returned Selina : and the young 
 lady in question was the Lady Adela Grubb. 
 **My embarrassment arises from a love of 
 pretty gowns," she added lightly ; for it was 
 not possible for Selina Dalrymple to main- 
 tain a tragic mood many minutes together. 
 ''Damereau's bill for last season was between 
 three and four thousand pounds. It is between 
 four and five thousand now." 
 
 Alice Dalrymple felt bewildered. *'It is 
 
FOLLY. 2^9 
 
 not possible for one person to owe all that for 
 one year, Selina ! " 
 
 *^ Not possible ?" repeated Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 *' Some of my friends spend double — treble — 
 four times what I do/' 
 
 ** And so their example led you on ? " cried 
 Alice presently, waking up from a whirlpool 
 of thought. 
 
 '' Something led me on. If one is in the 
 world one must dress." 
 
 ^* No, Selina : not as you have done. Not 
 to ruin. If people have but a small income 
 they dress accordingly." 
 
 ^' And make a sight of themselves. I don't 
 choose to." 
 
 *' Better that, and have peace of mind," 
 remarked iVlice. 
 
 ''Peace of mind! Oh, I don't know 
 
 I 
 
 where that is to be found now-a-days." 
 
 "I hope you will find it, Selina. How 
 much do you say you owe?" 
 
 '' There's four thousand to Damereau^ 
 and *' 
 
 '' Who is Damereau ?" 
 
 *' Goodness me, Alice ; if you never did 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 COURT XETHERLEIGH. 
 
 spend a season in town, you ought to know 
 who she is, without asking. Madame Dame- 
 reau's the great milliner and dressmaker ; 
 everybody goes to her." 
 
 '^ I remember now. Lady Sarah has her 
 things elsewhere." 
 
 *' Then I owe for India shawls, and lace, 
 and jewels, and furs and things. I owe six 
 thousand pounds if I owe a farthing." 
 
 ** What a sum ! " echoed Alice, aghast. 
 ** Six thousand pounds ? " 
 
 *^ Ay, you may well repeat it ! AVliich of 
 the queens was it who said that when she 
 died the name of Calais would be found en- 
 graven on her heart ? Mary, I think. Were 
 I to die, those two words, ^ six thousand,' 
 would be found engraven on mine. They are 
 never absent from me. I see them written up 
 in figures in my dreams ; I see them always ; 
 in the ball-room, at the opera, in the park, they 
 are buzzing in my ears; when I wake from my 
 troubled sleep they come rushing over me, and 
 • I start from my bed to escape them. I am not 
 at all sure that it w^on't turn out to be seven 
 thousand," candidly added Mrs. Dalrymple. 
 
FOLLY. 291 
 
 '' You must have dressed in silver and 
 gold," said poor xllice. 
 
 '*No: only in things that cost it: such 
 things as these/' said Mrs. Dalrymple, pull- 
 ing at her honnet with both hands, in irrita- 
 tion so passionate that it was torn in two. 
 
 *^ Oh, pray ! pray ! " Alice interposed, but 
 too late to prevent the catastrophe. "Your 
 beautiful bonnet ! Selina, it must have cost 
 three or four guineas. What a waste !'' 
 
 ''Tush! " peevishly replied Mrs. Dalrymple, 
 flinging the wrecks to the middle of the room. 
 "A bonnet more or less — what does it 
 matter ? " 
 
 Alice sat in thought ; looking very pained, 
 very perplexed. "It aj)pears to me that you 
 are on a wrong course altogether, Selina. 
 The past is past ; but you might strive to 
 redeem it.'' 
 
 " Strive against a whirlpool," sarcastically 
 responded Selina. 
 
 " You are getting deeper into it : by your 
 o\vn admission, you are having new things 
 every day. It is adding fuel to fire." 
 
 '* I can't go naked." 
 
292 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 '^ But you must have a large stock of 
 dresses by you/' 
 
 " Do you think I •would appear in last 
 year's things ? I can't and I won't. You 
 do not understand these matters, Alice." 
 
 ** Then you ought not to * appear ' at all. 
 You should have stopped at the Grange." 
 
 '^ As good be in a nunnery. Once you 
 have been initiated into the delights of a 
 London season, you can but come back to it. 
 Fancy my stopping at that mouldy old 
 Grange ! " 
 
 '^What is to be the end of all this?" 
 lamented Alice. 
 
 '' Ah, that's it ! The End. One does not 
 know, you see, how soon it may come. I'd 
 not so much mind if I could get all the season 
 first. The torment of it is, that Damereau is 
 pressing for her bill. She is throwing out 
 hints that she can't supply me any longer on 
 credit — and what on earth am I to do if she 
 wont ? What a shame it is that there should 
 be so much worry in the world ! " 
 
 ** The greatest portion of it is of our own 
 creating, Selina. And no worry ought to 
 
FOLLY. 293 
 
 have the power very seriously to disturb our 
 peace/' the younger sister continued, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 ^'Now, Alice, you are going to bring up 
 some of those religious notions of yours ! 
 They will be lost upon me. One cannot 
 have one's body in this world and one's heart 
 in the next." 
 
 ** Oh, yes, we can,'' said Alice, earnestly. 
 
 *' Well, I don't suppose I am going into 
 the next yet, unless I torment myself out of 
 this one ; so don't go on about it," was 
 Selina's graceless reply. But as Alice rose to 
 leave, her mood changed. 
 
 *' Forgive my fractiousness, Alice ; in- 
 deed, you would excuse it if you only knew 
 how bothered and miserable I am. It 
 makes me cross with myself and with other 
 people." 
 
 *' Ma'am," interrupted Ann, Mrs. Dal- 
 rymple's maid, '*Lady Burnham is at the 
 door, waiting for you." 
 
 '*I am not going out to-day," answered 
 her mistress, rising. '*I have changed my 
 mind." 
 
294 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 *^ Oil, my patience!" uttered tlie maid, 
 ** what's this ? Why, ma'am, it's never your 
 bonnet?" 
 
 No man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre : 
 I fear the same may be said of woman. 
 ** Bother the bonnet," was the undignified 
 reply of Mrs. Dalrymple, as she flirted the 
 pieces further away with her foot. Ann humbly 
 followed them to the far-off corner, and there 
 took them into her hands. ^'Eeach me an- 
 other bonnet," said her mistress ; ''I think I 
 will go, after all. What's the use of staying 
 indoors ?" 
 
 *' Which bonnet, ma'am ?" 
 
 *' Oh, I don't know ! Bring some out." 
 
 An array of bonnets, new and costly, were 
 displayed for Mrs. Dalrymple's difficult choice. 
 Alice, to whom all this was as a revelation, 
 took her departure with uplifted hands and a 
 shrinking heart. 
 
 Mrs. Dalrymple went downstairs, and took 
 her seat in Lady Burnham's carriage. The 
 latter, an extremely wealthy woman, full of 
 pleasurable excitement, imparted some par- 
 ticulars she had learnt of the marriage fes- 
 
FOLLY. 295 
 
 tivities about to be held in a family of their 
 acquaintance, to which they were both in- 
 vited. Lady Burnham was then on her road 
 to Damereau's, to order a suitable toilette for 
 it — one that would eclipse everybody's but 
 the bride's. Selina, in listening, forgot her 
 cares : when carried out of herself by the ex- 
 citement of preparing for these pomps and 
 vanities, she generally did so forget. But 
 only then. In the enacting of the pomps 
 and vanities themselves, when they were be- 
 fore her in all their glory, and she made one 
 of the bedizened crowd, her nightmare would 
 return to her; the skeleton in the closet 
 would, at those festive times, be exceeding 
 prominent and bare. The reader may be a 
 philosopher, a grave old F.K.S., very learned 
 in searching out cause and effect, and so be 
 able to account for this. I am not. 
 
 Selina's mouth watered as she listened to 
 Lady Burnham's description of what she 
 meant to wear herself at the wedding, and 
 what she recommended to Selina : and the 
 carriage stopped at Madame Damereau's. 
 Mrs. Dalrymple's orders were quite moderate 
 
296 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 to-day — only amounting to about ninety 
 pounds. 
 
 Was she quite silly, the reader will ask. 
 "Well, not more so than many another thought- 
 less woman. 
 
 Madame Damereau took the order as po- 
 litely and carefully as though Mrs. Oscar 
 Dalrymple had been made of bank notes and 
 gold. She knew better manners — and better 
 policy, too — than to make any objection be- 
 fore others of her clientele. But that same 
 evening, when Selina was dressing, she was 
 told that a lady who gave the name of Cooper 
 wished to see her. Selina knew that there 
 was a Mrs. Cooper in the establishment of 
 Madame Damereau, a partner, she fancied, or 
 book-keeper ; something of that. She had 
 seen her once or twice ; a lady-like woman 
 who had been reduced. 
 
 ''Let Mrs: Cooper come up here,'' she 
 said to the maid. And Mrs. Cooper entered 
 the bed-room. 
 
 '*I come from Madame Damereau's," she 
 began, taking the chair that Selina pointed 
 to. ''She hopes '^ 
 
FOLLY. 297 
 
 *'For goodness sake speak low!" inter- 
 rupted Selina, in ill-concealed terror. ** Mr. 
 Dalrymple is only in liis dressing-room, and 
 I do not wish him to hear all my private 
 affairs. These London walls are thin. She 
 wants money, I suppose." 
 
 " She hopes, madam, that you will make 
 it convenient to let her have some," said 
 Mrs. Cooper, sinking her voice to a whisper. 
 ** If it were only a few hundred pounds," 
 she said. *' That is but trifling, compared 
 with the whole sum, which amounts now 
 to " 
 
 * ' Oh, I know what it amounts to ; I can 
 guess it near enough," hastily interposed Mrs. 
 Dalrymple. "In the course of a week or 
 two I will see what I can do." 
 
 Poor Selina, at her wits' end for excuses, 
 had said *' in the course of a week or two" so 
 many times now, that Madame Damereau 
 was tired of hearing the phrase. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper hesitated, not much liking 
 her errand. " She bade me say, madam, 
 that she was extremely sorry to cause incon- 
 venience, but that she cannot execute the 
 
298 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 order you gave to-day unless she previously 
 receives some money." 
 
 *' Not execute it ! '' repeated Selina, with 
 flashing eyes. " What do you mean by 
 saying such a thing to me ? " 
 
 *' Madam, I am but the agent of Madame 
 Damereau. I can only speak as she bids me." 
 
 ** True/' answered Selina, softening; '* it 
 is not your fault. But I must have the 
 things. You will get them for me, will you 
 not ? " she said, in an accent of entreaty, 
 feeling that she was speaking to a gentle- 
 woman, although one who but held a situation 
 at a milliner's. *' Oh, pray use your influence ; 
 get her to let me have them." 
 
 Mrs. Cooper stood in distress, for hers was 
 one of those refined natures that cannot bear to 
 cause, or to witness pain. ''If it depended 
 upon me, indeed you should have them," she 
 answered, "but I have no influence of that 
 kind with Madame Damereau. She would 
 not allow the slightest interference, between 
 her and her ladies : were I to attempt it 
 I might lose my place in her house, and be 
 turned out again to struggle with the world." 
 
FOLL V. 299 
 
 *' Has it been a harsh world to you ? " 
 inquh'ed Selina, pityingly. 
 
 "Oh, yes," was Mrs. Cooper's answer, ^'or 
 I should not be where I am now. And I am 
 thankful to be there," she hastily added : '* I 
 would not seem ungrateful for the mercy that 
 has followed me in my misfortunes." 
 
 " I think misfortunes are the lot of all," 
 spoke Selina. ''What can I do to induce 
 Madame Damereau to furnish me with these 
 things ? " 
 
 "Perhaps you had better call and see her 
 yourself, madam," replied Mrs. Cooper, re- 
 lapsing into her ostensible position. " I will 
 try and say a w^ord to her to-night that may 
 prepare her. She has a good heart." 
 
 " I will see her to morrow. Thank you," 
 replied Mrs. Dalrymple, ringing for Mrs. 
 Cooper to be sliow^n out. 
 
 Selina finished dressing and went forth to 
 the evening's gaiety with what spirits she had. 
 Once plunged into the gay scene she forgot 
 care and was merry as the merriest there. 
 Her husband had never seen her face brighter. 
 
 On the following day Selina proceeded to 
 
300 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Madame Damereau's at an early hour, before 
 any other of the clientele would be likely to 
 appear. But the interview, although Mrs. 
 Cooper had said as much as she dared, was 
 not productive of good. Madame had 
 gradually learnt the true position of Oscar 
 Dalrymple, that he was a very poor man 
 instead of a rich one ; she feared she might 
 have trouble over her account, and was 
 obstinate and obdurate. Not exactly insolent : 
 she was never that, to her customers' faces : 
 but she and Mrs. Dalrymple both lost temper, 
 and the latter was impolitic enough to say 
 some cutting things, not only in disparage- 
 ment of Madame's goods, but about the 
 ** cheating prices " she had been charged. 
 Madame Damereau's face turned green, and 
 the interview ended by her stating that if 
 some money was not immediately furnished 
 her, she should sue Mr. Dalrymple for the 
 whole. Selina went away sick at heart ; for 
 she read determination on the incensed lips of 
 the Frenchwoman. 
 
CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 LADY ADELA. 
 
 " TTOW sly Mary has been ! " 
 
 The above exclamation spoken by 
 Lady Aclela Grnbb in a kind of resentful tone, 
 as she read a letter while sipping her coffee, 
 caused her husband to look up. He sat at 
 the opposite end of the breakfast table, attrac- 
 tive with its silver and its flowers and its 
 beautiful Worcester china. 
 
 '' Are you speaking of your sister Mary ? " 
 he asked. '' "What has she done ? " 
 
 Any answer to this question Lady Adela 
 did not condescend to give. Unless the toss- 
 ing of the letter across the table to him could 
 be called one — and she did it with a gesture 
 of scorn. The letter, a short one, came from 
 Miss Upton of Court Netherleigh. 
 
 *^ My dear Adela, — I have a little business 
 to transact in London to-morrow, and will 
 
302 COURT NETHERLEIGH, 
 
 take luncheon with you at one o'clock, if 
 quite convenient. Tell your husband, with 
 my kind regards, that I hope to see him also 
 — if he can spare an hour from that exacting 
 place of his, Leadenhall Street. So I am to 
 have your sister Mary as a neighbour, after all ! 
 — Your sincere friend, 
 
 '^ Margery Upton." 
 
 *' Wliich means, I presume, that Mary is to 
 marry Cleveland," remarked Mr. Grubb, as he 
 read the concluding sentence. 
 
 '^ Stupid thing ! I told her, weeks ago, she 
 was flirting with him." 
 
 "Nay, not flirting, Adela. Cleveland is 
 not capable of that." 
 
 Adela tossed her head. How lovely she 
 looked ! fair as the fresh summer morning. 
 
 '' She was flirting, though. And he would 
 flirt if he were not too old. Parsons, as a 
 rule, flirt more than laymen. She must be 
 hard up for a husband to take Mm. He has 
 a house full of children ! " 
 
 '' I daresay she likes him," said Mr. 
 Grubb. 
 
LADY ADELA. 303 
 
 **01i, nonsense! One only point can be 
 urged in his favour — that he is a patrician/' . 
 
 ^^That he is what?" cried Mr. Grubb, 
 who was drinking his coffee at the moment, 
 and did not hear the word. 
 
 "• A patrician. Not a plebeian.'' 
 
 The offensive stress laid by Adela on the 
 last word, the marked scorn sitting on her lips, 
 brought a flush to her husband's brow. 
 Nothing seemed to afford her so much gratifi- 
 cation as the throwing out these lance-shafts 
 to Mr. Grubb, on what she was pleased to 
 term his plebeian origin. 
 
 '' Do you wish for more coffee ? " she asked, 
 ungraciously. 
 
 *'No. I have not time for it. I must 
 make the best of my way into the city if I am 
 to get back to luncheon." 
 
 " There is not the least necessity for you 
 to get back," was her slighting remark. '' You 
 will not be missed if you don't come." 
 
 "By yourself, no. I am aware of that. 
 But I do not care to be so lacking in common 
 courtesy as to disregard the express wish of 
 Miss Upton." 
 
304 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ** She may have expressed it out of mere 
 politeness/' 
 
 " Miss Upton is not one to express a wish 
 out of mere politeness," replied Mr. Grubb, 
 as he gathered up some papers of his that 
 were by the side of his plate. *' Besides, I 
 shall like to see her." 
 
 Approaching his wife, who had taken up 
 the Morning Post, he stood over her. *' Good- 
 bye, Adela," he said ; and bent to kiss her 
 cheek. 
 
 ^* Oh, good-bye," she retorted, in a curt 
 tone, and jerked her cheek away from his 
 very lips. 
 
 He went away with a suppressed sigh. 
 This line of treatment had been dealt out to 
 him by her so long now that he had become 
 inured to it. It was none the less bitter 
 for that. 
 
 Adela, dropping the newspaper and picking 
 up a rose from one of the glasses on the 
 breakfast-table, went to the window to see 
 whether it looked very hot, for she wanted to 
 walk to her mother's and hear about Mary's 
 contemplated marriage. She saw her hus- 
 
LADY ADELA. 305 
 
 band cross the square. For some reason he 
 was crossing it on foot, his close carriage 
 slowly following him : on very hot days he 
 rarely used an open one. What a fine, noble- 
 looking man he was ! what a face of goodness 
 and beauty was his ! — how few could com- 
 pare with him. At odd moments this would 
 even strike Adela ; it struck her now ; and a 
 flash of something like pride in him darted 
 into her heart. 
 
 All ! she saw now why he had walked 
 across the square instead of getting into his 
 carriage at the door : her father was advancing 
 towards him. The two met, shook hands, 
 stood for a few moments talking, and then 
 Lord Acorn put his arm within his son-in- 
 law's, and they turned the corner together. 
 
 ** Papa wants more money of him," thought 
 Adela. ^^ It's rather too bad, I must say. 
 — But that Leadenhall Street is just a mine 
 of wealth." 
 
 For, now and again, ever since the marriage, 
 Lord Acorn had come with his troubles and 
 embarrassments to Mr. Grubb, who seldom 
 refused to assist him. 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
3o6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 As the clock was striking one that day, 
 they sat down to lunch : Miss Upton, who 
 had just arrived, Mr. Gruhb, and Lady Adela. 
 Miss Upton never took the meal later if she 
 could help it. Indeed, at home she took it 
 at twelve. Her breakfast hour was eight 
 precisely, and by twelve she was ready for 
 luncheon. Lady Acorn came in as they were 
 sitting down, threw her bonnet on a chair, 
 and sat down with them. Hearing that Miss 
 Upton would be there, she had come, unin- 
 vited, to meet her. 
 
 '' How early you went out, mamma ! '' cried 
 Adela, in rather an aggrieved tone. For, 
 when she reached Chenevix House that morn- 
 ing, she found her mother and sisters had 
 already left it : so that she had heard no par- 
 ticulars at all about Lady Mary's proposed 
 wedding, not even whether there was certainly 
 to be one, and Adela had her curiosity upon 
 the subject. 
 
 '' We went shopping,'' answered Lady 
 Acorn. ^' One likes to do that before the 
 heat of the day comes on. Do you know 
 that Mr. Cleveland is going to marry again, 
 
LADY ADELA. 307 
 
 Margery ? " she added abruptly, looking across 
 the table at Miss Upton. 
 
 ^' Yes, I knew it. He came to the Court 
 yesterday morning to tell me of it. I think 
 Mary will make him a good wife." 
 • *' She has courage," said Mr. Grubb, with 
 a pleasant laugh. " How many children are 
 there ?— Ten ? " 
 
 ** No. Eight. And they are of all ages ; 
 from seven, up to four-and-twenty," added 
 Miss Upton. 
 
 Lady Acorn was nodding her head, in em- 
 phatic acquiescence to Mr. Grubb 's remark. 
 ** I told Mary she had the courage of Job, 
 when the thing first came to my ears. Eight 
 children and a poor country rector ! Young 
 women are ready to marry a broomstick when 
 they get to Mary's age, if the chance falls in 
 their way." 
 
 •' Had Job so much courage, mamma ? " 
 put in Adela. 
 
 '' Courage, or patience, or some such virtue. 
 It is not I that would have taken an old 
 widower with a flock of young ones," continued 
 the Countess, in her plain-speaking tartness. 
 
3o8 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 "You will get rid of us all in time, 
 mamma/' observed Adela. 
 
 *' It entails trouble enough," was her 
 mother's ungracious rejoinder. "lam quite 
 done over with heat and fatigue now — going 
 about from one place to another after Mary's 
 things. Gowns and bonnets and slips and 
 mantles, and all the rest of it ! Girls are so 
 exacting when they are going to marry : they 
 must have this, and they must have that, and 
 Mary is no exception. One would think she 
 had picked up a duke." 
 
 "It is natural they should be," observed 
 Miss Upton. 
 
 " But it's not the less ridiculous," retorted 
 the Countess. " One thing I must say — that 
 Tom Cleveland is showing himself in despe- 
 rate haste to take another wife." 
 
 " The haste is for his children's sake," said 
 Miss Upton; "be very sure of that, Betsy. 
 ' I must have some one to control and train 
 them ; since my poor wife's death the girls 
 have run wild,' he said to me yesterday, when 
 he told me about Mary, and the tears were 
 almost runninoj down his cheeks." 
 
LADY AD EL A. 309 
 
 "It is a great cliarge/' spoke Mr. Grubb. 
 " I mean for Lady Mary." 
 
 ''It is," acquiesced Miss Upton. "But I 
 liope — I think — she will be found equal to 
 it, and will prove a good stepmother. That 
 she understands the responsibility she is un- 
 dertaking, and has counted the cost, I am 
 sure of, by what she said in a long letter I 
 received from her this morning." 
 
 "It is to be hoped she will have no chil- 
 dren of her own," struck in Lady Acorn. 
 " Many a woman makes a good stepmother 
 until her own babies come. After that " 
 
 "After that — what?" asked Miss Upton, 
 for Lady Acorn had stopped abruptly. 
 
 " After that, she thinks of her own childrer 
 and not of the first wife's. And sometimes 
 the poor things get hardly dealt by." 
 
 " And when is the wedding-day to be ? " 
 asked Adela. 
 
 " The day after twelve months shall have 
 elapsed since the death of the first Mrs. Cleve- 
 land ; or in as short a time subsequent to that 
 day as may be convenient to me and the 
 milliners," laughed Lady Acorn. 
 
3IO COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ''That will make it some time in August, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 *' Yes, in August." 
 
 *'Arlela, you must give them a substantial 
 present — something worth having/' said Mr. 
 Grubb to his wife. 
 
 '' Is Damereau to furnish the wedding 
 dresses ? " questioned Adela, ignoring her 
 husband's remark rather too pointedly, and 
 addressing her mother. 
 
 *' Damereau ! " shrieked the Countess. 
 *'Not if I know it. We have been to plain 
 Mrs. "Wilson. Damereau gets dearer every 
 day. She is all very well for those who have 
 a long purse : mine's a short one." 
 
 At the close of the luncheon, Miss Upton 
 said she must take her departure : she had 
 commissions to do. A fly waited for her at 
 the door. 
 
 *' You should use one of Adela's carriages," 
 said Mr. Grubb, as he took her down to it. 
 
 *' Ah, thank you ; I know you and she 
 would lend it to me with hearty good-will ; 
 but I like, you see, to be independent," was 
 Miss Upton's answer. ''I have employed the 
 
LADY ADELA. 311 
 
 same fly and the same man for years. When 
 I am coming to London I write to him pre- 
 viously, and he holds himself at my services 
 for the day/' 
 
 ''Is there anything I can do for you?*' 
 asked Mr. Grubb, as he placed her comfortably 
 in the closed fly. 
 
 ''Nothing. Unless yon will get in and 
 ride a little way with me. I am going first to 
 a shop in the Strand. Perhaps you can't 
 spare the time.'' 
 
 " Indeed I can," he answered, stepping 
 in and taking the seat facing her. "The 
 Strand will be all in my way to Leadenhall 
 Street." 
 
 They had not seen much of one another, 
 and yet they were intimate, for each Hked the 
 other. Mr. Grubb had paid one short visit to 
 Court Netherleigh with his wife ; it was in the 
 first year of his marriage, and they stayed 
 three days. Miss Upton called on them 
 sometimes when she came to town, perhaps 
 once or twice a year ; and that was all. 
 
 "You were saying something to Adela 
 about giving a present to her sister," began 
 
312 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Miss Upton, as tliey ambled along. '' I take 
 it that you were sincere/' 
 
 *^ Indeed I was. I should like to give 
 them something that will be useful — regard- 
 less of cost," he added, with a smile. **Can 
 you suggest anything ? '' 
 
 *'Ican. A little open-carriage and pony 
 — if you would like to go as far as that. 
 Mary will want it badly. The old pony- 
 carriage used by Mrs. Cleveland all her mar- 
 ried life to get about the straggling parish in, 
 is the most worn, ramshackle thing now you 
 ever saw ; it will hardly hold together. And 
 the poor pony is on its last legs.'* 
 
 *' They shall have a new one. Thank you 
 for telling me," added Mr. Grubb with a 
 sunny smile. 
 
 *^And I daresay you wonder why I can't 
 give them this thing myself," resumed Miss 
 Upton ; *' but the truth is — don't laugh — I 
 am refurnishing the house, and I don't like to 
 do too much. It would look ostentatious, 
 patronising, and Cleveland would feel it so in 
 his heart. I had a rare battle with him about 
 the furniture, when I told him what I meant 
 
LADY ADELA. 313 
 
 to do; I had already, in fact, given orders for 
 it. * You cannot bring Lady Mary home to 
 that shabby dining and drawing-room of yours, 
 Thomas Cleveland, with their chipped and 
 worn chairs and tables, and their dirty walls,' 
 I said to him yesterday. ^ I fear I can't 
 afford to have them renovated,' he answered 
 me, his face taking a long look. * Of course 
 you can't,' I said, 'whoever heard of a parson 
 that could ; I mean to do it myself.' Well, 
 then we had a fight. Mary had seen the 
 walls and the rooms and knew what they were, 
 he maintained. Upon which I cut short the 
 argument by saying the orders were already 
 given, and the workmen ready to go in. I 
 had seen for a month or two past, you must 
 understand, Francis, how matters were turn- 
 ing between him and Mary Chenevix." 
 
 Miss Upton broke off with a short laugh. 
 ** The idea of my calling you Francis ! " she 
 exclaimed. '' Will you forgive me ? " 
 
 ''Forgive you! Dear Miss Upton, if you 
 only knew how pleasant to me the name 
 sounds from your lips! " 
 
 ' ' When I think of you it is generally as 
 
314 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 Francis Griibb, and so it escaped me. Well, 
 then, you will give them this new pony and 
 carriage? " 
 
 *' I will. And thank you sincerely for 
 suggesting it/' 
 
 " Does Adela make you a good wife yet ? " 
 cried Miss Upton, fixing her keen eyes upon 
 him. And Francis Grubb, at the abrupt query, 
 grew red to the very roots of his waving hair. 
 
 " Is she becoming affectionate to you, as a 
 gracious wife should be ? " pursued Miss Mar- 
 gery, for he did not answ^er. 
 
 ^'I do not complain of my wife; please 
 understand that, Miss Upton." 
 
 " Quite right of you not to. But I believe 
 I understand rather more than appears on the 
 surface ; have understood for some time past. 
 I gave her a lecture when I was last here. I 
 did, indeed; though you may not suppose it." 
 
 He smiled. A poor smile at best. Margery 
 Upton leaned forward and put her hand upon 
 his hand, that lay on his knee. 
 
 '* There is only one thing for it — patience. 
 Bear quietly. Adela used to be a sweet girl ; 
 I think she has a good heart, and what evil 
 
LADY ADELA, 315 
 
 spirit has taken possession of lier I cannot 
 conceive. I t\iin}v things will work round in 
 time, even as you could desire them." 
 
 ''Ay!" 
 
 ** And, for the present, I say, keep up a 
 good heart — and hear. It is my best advice 
 to you." 
 
 He took her hand within both his, and 
 pressed it fervently, making no comment in 
 words. And just then the fly pulled up in the 
 Strand. 
 
 ''I have not asked about your mother," 
 said Miss Upton, as he stood at the door to 
 say farewell after getting out. 
 
 '' She is pretty well, thank you, now." 
 
 " And your sister ? Does she get over 
 that WTetched business of Eobert Dal- 
 rymple's?" 
 
 '* Of course — in a degree. Time softens 
 most things. But she will never forget 
 him." 
 
 He shook hands finally with Miss Upton ; 
 he walked on to his house in Leadenhall 
 Street, his step flagging, his heart weary. 
 Entering his own private room, he found two 
 
3i6 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 ladies within it. His mother, who was seated 
 in the most easy chair the room afforded ; 
 and his sister. Mrs. Lynn was a tall, digni- 
 fied, upright woman still : her beautiful grey 
 eyes were just like his own, her refined coun- 
 tenance, sickly now, bore yet its marks of 
 unusual intellect. 
 
 *' Mother!" he exclaimed, in surprise. 
 '' How glad I am to see you !'' 
 
 " I drove up to the Bank upon a little 
 matter of business, and came on to see you after 
 it was transacted," she explained, as he kissed 
 her. * * It is unusual to find you out at this 
 time of day, Francis ; but the clerks thought 
 you would be in soon, and I w^aited. I am 
 glad of the rest ; the journey has so tired me.'* 
 
 *' Why will you not let me do your matters 
 of business for you, mother ? " he tenderly 
 asked, as he busied himself to get a glass of 
 wine for her and some biscuits. 
 
 * ' Because as long as I can do things for 
 myself, I like to do them," she answered, 
 **and my old-fashioned chariot is an easy 
 one : I do not care to become quite the in- 
 capable old woman before the necessity for it 
 
LADY ADELA. 317 
 
 sets inevitably in. And now, how is it with 
 yourself, Francis ? Your brow wore a 
 troubled look as you entered." 
 
 Never did Francis Grubb smile a more 
 genial smile than now. Not even to his 
 mother would he willingly show his care. 
 ''It is quite well with me," he laughed; 
 *' well and flourishing. Drink your wine, 
 mother dear." 
 
 *' Your wife ? '' whispered Mrs. Lynn in a 
 tone of doubt — of pain. '* Is she — more 
 friendly ? " 
 
 ** Oh, we are friendly enough — quite so," 
 he lightly answered, angry with himself for 
 not being able to suppress the flush that 
 rose at the question. *' Is that a new dress 
 you have on, Mary ? It is marvellously 
 pretty." 
 
 "If her child had but lived!" sighed 
 Mrs. Lynn, alluding to Lady Adela. 
 
 '* Quite new ; on new to-day ; and I am very 
 glad you admire it," gaily answered Mary, as 
 she spread out the dress with both hands, and 
 turned herself about on her brother's dull red 
 carpet for inspection. She was as thankful 
 
31 8 COURT NETHERLEIGH. 
 
 to drown the other subject as he was : she 
 knew, unhajDpily, more about it than her 
 mother. *'I am going out on a visit, sir, so 
 of course I must have some pretty things/' 
 
 ** Going where ? " 
 
 *' To Lawn Cottage, at Netherleigh. Mrs. 
 Dahymple wants me — she is lonely there. I 
 can only spare her a week though : it will not 
 do to leave mamma for longer. Alice is at 
 Lady Sarah Hope's, you know, and Selina is 
 in town, the gayest of the gay." 
 
 ^*Eather too gay, I fancy," remarked Mr. 
 Grubb. '' Mother," he added, turning from 
 his sister, ^'I have just left your friend of 
 early life — Miss Upton. She inquired after 
 you.'"' 
 
 ^* Very good of her ! " retorted Mrs. Lynn, 
 proudly and stiffly. "I do not care to be 
 spoken to of Margery Upton, as you know, 
 Francis. She — and others — voluntarily 
 severed all connection between us in those 
 early years. It pained me more than you, or 
 anyone else, will ever know ; but it is over 
 and done with, and I do not willingly recall 
 it, or them, to my memory." 
 
LADY AD EL A. 319 
 
 All ! that separation might have brought 
 keen pain to Mrs. Lynn in early days, but 
 not so cruelly keen as the pain something- 
 else was bringing to her son in these later 
 ones. As Francis Grubb, his visitors de- 
 parted, took his place at his desk, and strove 
 to apply his mind to his business, he found it 
 difficult. Twice to-day had his wife's be- 
 haviour to him been remarked upon — by 
 Miss Upton and by his mother. Was it, 
 could it be the fact, that the unhappiness of 
 his home, the miserable relations obtaining 
 between himself and his wife, had become 
 patent to all the world ? The draught had 
 already been rising to a' pretty good height in 
 his cup of bitterness ; this would fill it to the 
 brim. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 J. OaDEN A.lfD CO., PEINTEES, 172, ST. JOH::f STEXET, B.C. 
 
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