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 A FALSE START.
 
 A FALSE START 
 
 % JtOlU[L 
 
 BY 
 
 HAWLEY SMART, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " BUEEZIE LANGTON," "FROM POST TO FINISH,' 
 "THE GREAT TONTINE," ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN and HALL 
 
 L IMI T E D 
 
 1887.
 
 WESTMINSTER: 
 
 PRINTED BY NICHOLS AND SONS, 
 
 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
 
 SA3 
 
 I* 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. page 
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON ...... 1 
 
 CHAPfER II. 
 
 "WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY?" . . 16 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT . . . . . .30 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE REVEREND JACOR JARROW . . . . .46 
 
 CHxVPTER V. 
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO . . . . .62 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TUNNLETON ........ 80 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN ...... 94 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "SHALL WE CALL?" . . . . . . . 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BRIDGE COURT ........ 12o 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMRRAGE . . . . .139
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE TORKESIA> ....... 153 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES 167 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LITERARY FAILURES 184 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY ....... 2(>0 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY . . . . . . .219 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BITTER TONGUES 237
 
 ERRATA.— VOL. I. 
 
 Page 129, line 14, for " of his ironical nature" read 
 " of its ironical nature." 
 
 „ line 17, for "through his teeth" read "through 
 its teeth." 
 
 Page 173, line 3, for "London Campaign" read 
 "Soudan Campaign." 
 
 Page 232, line 16, for "Osborne's Stable" read 
 " Kilburne's Stable." 
 
 Page 249, line 6, for "divers sherry and bitter" read 
 " divers sherries and bitters."
 
 A FALSE START, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 
 
 The long lazy rollers surge slowly in, and 
 a glorious autumnal sunset gilds the salt 
 water as Maurice Enderby looks out over 
 the sea-wall from the Spa at Scarborough 
 on the departing day. A sea this without 
 much life in it, a sail here and there in the 
 far offing, but no such flood of traffic as runs 
 by the sea-ports on the English Channel. 
 
 He puffs hard at his cigar as he muses 
 over this thing that he has done. Not a 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 t>
 
 2 A FALSE START. 
 
 wise thing, perhaps ; his friends and rela- 
 tions have not hesitated to tell him, with 
 all that delightful candour characteristic 
 of friends and relations, that it is a very 
 foolish thing. And yet for the life of him 
 he cannot as yet be made to endorse that 
 opinion. With health and spirits a man 
 must be a pitiful creature who can take 
 a despondent view of his position at four- 
 and-twenty. Friends may say, acidulated 
 aunts may argue, respected uncles may 
 growl and insist, that merely to have 
 taken a degree at the University is not to 
 be called a provision for the future ; that 
 a man whose participation in the loaves and 
 fishes of the Church has got no further than 
 this is not justified in taking unto himself 
 a helpmate. But Maurice, ever masterful in 
 his nature, has taken his future into his 
 own hand, and married pretty Bessie Ma- 
 dingley.
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 6 
 
 It was all very well, but half of that 
 hundred pounds upon which Maurice started 
 on his wedding trip is already gone, and 
 he ruminates sadly upon a heavy arrear 
 of Oxford tl ticks," and that his relations' 
 congratulations on his marriage consist for 
 the most part of bitter rebukes upon his 
 imprudence, and unpalatable advice with 
 regard to his future. The outlook is not 
 particularly brilliant, he has some little 
 income of his own, and of course a curacy 
 is obtainable, still it has as yet to be 
 sought for. As for his wife, although there 
 is a probability of money coming to her in 
 the future, she has nothing at present — 
 the probabilities most likely depending in a 
 great measure upon how Maurice may pros- 
 per in the world. It is singular that people 
 leave their money, not to those in urgent 
 need of it, but to their more prosperous 
 
 relations ; in short, let you only compass 
 
 b 2
 
 4 A FALSE START. 
 
 your first legacy, and none of your relations 
 will ever pass you over in their wills. 
 
 A few days more, thought Maurice, and 
 I must pull myself together in real earnest. 
 I must get a curacy and eke out things 
 by the aid of my pen ; if it wasn't for this 
 confounded drag-chain of my old Oxford 
 liabilities I shouldn't be much afraid of 
 the world. Bessie is young, strong, hopeful i 
 and the dearest little thing possible, but we 
 must begin life in earnest at once. I'll 
 send off an advertisement to-morrow. A 
 curacy don't bring in much of an annual 
 income, but one must make a beginning, 
 and, let your vocation be what it may, 
 you don't, as a rule, rake in much to start 
 upon. Well ! I can make a good lunch off 
 bread and cheese as yet, and have still a 
 magnificent capacity for beer in its native 
 pewter, a taste nourishing and inexpensive. 
 And then Mr. Enderby threw his cigar-end
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 5 
 
 into the sea and strolled back to the Grand 
 Hotel to look after his wife. 
 
 Maurice Enderby was no weak, flabby 
 young man ; on the contrary, he was a 
 young gentleman abounding in energy and 
 vitality ; one of his college eleven, not at 
 all a bad man to hounds, and at the 
 same time bearing a very good reputation 
 for ability — he had taken a very fair 
 degree, and was equally a favourite both 
 with his fellows and the authorities. He 
 had been rash, foolish, no doubt; a man 
 of moderate means, he had striven to swim 
 with the brazen pots, and got badly cracked 
 in the process. How many of these poor 
 earthenware vases make shipwreck of their 
 lives by that short-lived struggle to keep 
 pace with those who have ten or twenty 
 times their income ! Gay, joyous, pleasure- 
 loving Maurice Enderby threw himself 
 headlong into the race with all the best
 
 6 A FALSE START. 
 
 sporting set of the university, but hacks, 
 hunters, college wines, red coats, and all 
 the other paraphernalia attendant on the 
 *' sport of kings," run into money, and so 
 poor Maurice to his horror found, for at 
 the termination of his university career he 
 had to look his liabilities in the face. As 
 every one knows, during that period the 
 tradesmen of either university town take 
 little heed about a settlement, but the 
 academical course once run they become 
 extremely solicitous for a wiping out of 
 the slate, if not in full, at all events in 
 great measure. Maurice Enderby could 
 look back upon his time at the university 
 with one satisfaction, that whatever his 
 follies may have been he had at all events 
 taken a degree, and made at any rate 
 that progress up life's ladder. On arriving 
 at his hotel he called at the office for 
 letters, previous to going up to his rooms.
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 7 
 
 There were three or four awaiting him, 
 which, after just glancing at their super- 
 scriptions, he thrust into his pocket, and 
 then leisurely ascended the stairs. He was 
 in good truth not a little troubled about 
 the future. He had never troubled about 
 it before. Men, as a rule, at his age, when 
 they have only themselves to consider, are 
 not wont to be very anxious on that point, 
 the world is all before them you see, they 
 have experienced no failure, the possible 
 woolsack, the possible bishopric, the novel, 
 or the play which is to make the town ring 
 again, are yet to be achieved. 
 
 Years spent in country curacies, years 
 in which the heart has grown sick awaiting 
 the briefs that never come ; a trunk full of 
 rejected manuscripts, or a play that never 
 saw the week through, but died drowned 
 in derision ; — these are the experiences 
 that make a man silently and sullenly
 
 8 A FALSE START. 
 
 think over his own solitary welfare; but 
 when he takes to himself a wife he must, 
 unless steeped in selfishness, become con- 
 scious that there is another life dependent 
 upon his exertions, and what caused him 
 no anxiety for himself may well, if he 
 really loves the girl he has married, fill 
 his mind with dreary forebodings about 
 the future. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are," exclaimed Bessie, 
 as she sprang forward to welcome her 
 newly-elected lord. "I've been anxiously 
 awaiting you — this bracing air makes one 
 so desperately hungry. I am positively 
 dying for my dinner. Ah! letters," she 
 continued, as Maurice threw the little pile 
 on to the table. " Are there any for 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes, three. Read them while I wash 
 my hands, and then we'll go down and 
 get something to eat."
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 9 
 
 Mrs. Enderby proceeded to run hastily 
 through her correspondence while her 
 husband donned the conventional sables. 
 "It is very odd," she murmured to herself ; 
 " again there is no letter from Uncle John. 
 I don't understand it. There are con- 
 gratulations on my marriage from old 
 friends. I think I've had a kindly word 
 now from nearly every one, but there's 
 not a line from him; he, too, the one 
 wealthy relative I have in the world ; the 
 only one who has it in his power to 
 befriend us if he chooses. I know we've 
 been rash, desperately rash ; and, although 
 Maurice is so clever that he is sure to 
 make his way in his profession, yet it 
 must take time, and a man in Uncle John's 
 position could surely extend a helping 
 hand to us in many ways if he chose. 
 Surely it cannot be that he is angry with 
 me. Are you ready, Maurice ? " she said,
 
 10 A FALSE START. 
 
 as she tapped at the door of her husband's 
 dressing-room. 
 
 " Almost ; come in and tell me what your 
 news is.'' 
 
 " Nothing much ; congratulations from 
 two or three dear friends whom you have 
 never heard of." 
 
 u And not a line from John Madingley ? " 
 asked her husband. 
 
 " No," replied Bessie ; " it's very odd, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ; he might have sent you a 
 bangle or a tea-pot or a cheque. I should 
 have thought he could have remembered his 
 favourite niece to that extent ; but come 
 along, let us go down stairs," and the two 
 descended to the coffee-room. 
 
 As they entered the room a tall good- 
 looking man, who was apparently engaged 
 in a hot controversy with the head- waiter, 
 turned his head. " Bob Grafton, by all
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 11 
 
 that's unfathomable ! " exclaimed Maurice, 
 as he frankly held out his hand to the new 
 comer. 
 
 " My dear Maurice, I am delighted to see 
 you," rejoined Grafton, as he shook it 
 heartily, "and this of course is your bride. 
 As one of your husband's most intimate 
 friends I must shake hands and congratulate 
 you without waiting for a further introduc- 
 tion." 
 
 " But who on earth would have thought 
 of seeing you here ?" said Maurice. 
 
 "My dear fellow, "there are certain places at 
 which you need never feel surprised at seeing 
 any one, and Scarborough is one of them. 
 People come here they don't know why." 
 
 " Well ! never mind, what brought you ?" 
 exclaimed Maurice " Let us all dine to- 
 gether and you shall tell me all your adven- 
 tures since we last met, and where your 
 foreign wanderings have taken you."
 
 12 A FALSE START. 
 
 " You mustn't pay any attention to him, 
 Mrs. Enderby," returned Grafton, laughing, 
 u cab accidents are more rife in Regent 
 Street and railway disasters in this country 
 than they are on the Continent, and in the 
 prosaic times in which we live that is about as 
 much disaster as is likely to happen to you in 
 Europe ; of course, if you are of a quarrel- 
 some disposition the luxury of a row with a 
 foreign gendarme is always to be had for the 
 seeking. It's mighty little sport and you're 
 sure to get the worst of it. Capital bisque, 
 Mrs. Enderby, try it." 
 
 " And what do you mean doing now you 
 are at home?" said Maurice. " Are you really 
 going to make a start in life ? " 
 
 " Of course I am," rejoined Grafton ; 
 " didn't I get ' called' just before I left 
 England? but I am cursed with 800Z. a 
 year, and though I am going up to town 
 now to sit waiting for briefs, nobody ever
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 13 
 
 heard of a fellow doing much good at the 
 bar with so little incentive to stick to it. 
 I must follow Maurice's example, Mrs. 
 Enderby, and find me a wife ; a wife who 
 will want opera-boxes and carriages, and 
 then, like the rest of us, I shall have to serve 
 my eight hours a day at money-grinding — 
 
 ' Oh ! if I'd a thousand a year, Robin Rough, 
 If I had but a thousand a year.' 
 
 and if the singer didn't want two he might 
 make his mind quite easy that Mrs. Robin 
 would." 
 
 " Mr. Grafton ! " exclaimed Bessie, " I 
 can't listen to such libels on my sex ! Wives 
 are not all of that description, and can learn, 
 if necessary, to take care of their husbands' 
 money. Maurice and I are poor and " 
 
 " Just now," interposed Grafton gaily, 
 " but you won't be long. Bless you ! he 
 can do anything if he chooses. Why,
 
 14 A FALSE START. 
 
 whether it was in the class-rooms, in the 
 racquet- court, or with the drag, he could 
 give us all points. You'll be rolling in 
 your chariot while I am disputing with the 
 cabman over a doubtful shilling." 
 
 "I say, Bob," said Maurice, "just give 
 the wife another glass of Burgundy. 
 Nothing goes so well with a bird as a glass 
 of red wine. Tell that confounded cook," 
 he continued to the waiter, " I've spoken 
 about it once before — here are the grouse 
 over - roasted again ; at an hotel of this 
 kind we expect decent cooking at any 
 rate though we seldom get it. Ah ! come, 
 this other bird is better. By the way, Bob^ 
 you belong to this many-acred county don't 
 you ? Did you ever come across my wife's 
 uncle, old John Madingley ? — he's a well- 
 known sportsman up in this country." 
 
 u John Madingley! I should think he 
 was. Not a better known man in the three
 
 ON THEIR HONEYMOON. 15 
 
 ridings. I'd no idea that he was a relation 
 of Mrs. Enderby. He got down poking 
 about in that cramped Holderness country 
 the other day and broke his collar-bone. I 
 saw him at Doncaster the other day with 
 his right arm in a sling, It was at the 
 sale-ring, and he was in a state of great 
 jubilation. He said he'd got three or four 
 young ones that were better-looking than 
 anything Messrs. Tattersall sold the whole 
 week." 
 
 Maurice significantly glanced at his wife, 
 and when she rose accompanied her to ihe 
 door and said, " Bob and I will have our 
 cigarette and coffee in the smoking-room 
 and then join you up stairs."
 
 16 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 u WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY ? " 
 
 The two men proceeded to the smoking 
 room, and when they had rung for coffee, 
 had installed themselves in tolerably com- 
 fortable chairs, and got their tobacco fairly 
 under weigh, Maurice said, " I suppose the 
 announcement of my marriage took you a 
 little aback, old fellow, but you see I didn't 
 know where the deuce you were, and it 
 was a rather hurried affair." 
 
 " Well," rejoined Grafton, " I must own
 
 "WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY?" 17 
 
 I was surprised when I read it in The 
 Times, but you've got a charming little wife, 
 and women of her sort are not to be picked 
 up ever y day." 
 
 "No, that's right enough, she was worth 
 going i nap ' for, and that's just what it is 
 you see, old fellow ; I've set up house with 
 a very hazy idea upon what it is to be kept 
 going." 
 
 "Pooh! that's all clear enough; you've 
 got a bit of your own, haven't you ? And 
 you'll have no trouble about getting a 
 curacy; you won't want much money to 
 start with, and a clever fellow like you is 
 safe to get a living before long ; and then, 
 good heavens ! you'll blossom into a dean, or 
 a canon, or something or other, and preach 
 such sermons that all London will be fig-lit- 
 ing to get in to hear you. Dear me ! I see 
 lawn sleeves and the mitre in the far dis- 
 tance and myself glowing with pride if your 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 A FALSE START. 
 
 grace touches your shovel hat to me in the 
 park." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Bob/' replied Maurice, 
 smiling; " it's all very well : but I'd better 
 tell you a little more about my marriage. My 
 wife is an orphan, and when I met her was 
 eking out the very slender income she had 
 inherited as governess at a house where I was 
 intimate. To start with, she was introduced 
 to me as a phenomenon. Dear Bessie's sing- 
 ing was perfection ; dear Bessie was so clever, 
 and all the rest of it. But there were grown- 
 up daughters in the house, and the minute 
 their acute feminine intelligence awoke to 
 the fact that I admired Bessie Madingley 
 extremely, then at once, in homely phrase- 
 ology, they ' made it very hot ' for their 
 former pet. They led her a hard life ; she 
 could do nothing right, and, above all, they 
 were fools enough to take to incessantly 
 snubbing the girl in my presence. I was
 
 " WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY ? " 19 
 
 no great catch, but they were a good many 
 of them, and it was quite possible that they 
 thought in time I might do for one of the 
 daughters. Anyhow, it ended in Bessie's 
 position becoming unendurable, and admira- 
 tion, and then pity, upon my part, ripening 
 into passionate love. We had neither of us 
 anybody much to consult, so we took our 
 fate into our own hands, and made a match 
 of it. As far as I know, we have only one 
 wealthy relative — to wit, that uncle of 
 Bessie's you saw with the broken collar-bone 
 by the ring-side at Doncaster. What sort of 
 a man is John Madingley ? " 
 
 6i John Madingley? '' rejoined Grafton, 
 ''why, he is a man known through all 
 the shires in the north country. He's getting 
 an old man now ; but there never was a 
 better sportsman than Parson Madingley. 
 He's been rector of Bingwell for thirty years 
 
 and more, I should think ; but he has a very 
 c 2
 
 20 A FALSE START. 
 
 good property of his own, quite exclusive of 
 the living, which, indeed, is a family one, 
 and came to him when he was a younger 
 son. He's got about as good shooting as 
 you would find anywhere. He keeps a few 
 thorough-bred mares, and has been lucky 
 with their produce more than once. In the 
 former days he was a first-flight man in the 
 shires, and a well-known figure on every 
 northern racecourse. But getting on in 
 years stopped the first, and the present 
 generation are not quite so lenient to the 
 doings of their pastors as our fathers 
 were, though there was a roar of applause 
 through all sporting England when, some 
 ten years ago, they telegraphed to him that 
 his mare Condonement, then first favourite 
 for the Leger, was lame, and he replied, 
 ' She must run on three legs in the interests 
 of the public' " 
 
 " In fact, he's what you call a good sort
 
 1 l WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN M ADINGLEY ? ' ' 21 
 
 all round. Bessie always says he has been a 
 very kind friend to her ; and, though she 
 has seen little of him, he has sent her many 
 a bank-note and kindly letter. But is he a 
 man with any Church interest, do you 
 suppose ? " 
 
 "My dear Maurice,'' rejoined Bob Grafton 
 — as he emitted a wreath of tobacco smoke 
 from under his moustache, and lifting his 
 eyebrows in perfect amazement at his 
 friend's unworldliness — (l is a man of good 
 county family, with the best of shooting, 
 who has held a leading position in the sport- 
 ing world, is a popular fellow, and has never 
 wanted anything for himself, ever without 
 influence ? Why, my dear Maurice, it 
 would be hard to conjecture how many 
 strings John Madingley could pull if he set 
 his mind to it. I haven't half your brains, 
 old man, but I am three or four years your 
 senior, and think, perhaps, I have seeii
 
 22 A FALSE START. 
 
 rather more of the world than you have. 
 One of those men who have a good deal to 
 give, and never ask for anything, can lay 
 their hands on a lot of influential friends if 
 they will give their minds to it. There are 
 fellows who have had good days amongst 
 the pheasants at Bingwell ; there are fellows 
 who have won money over his horses ; there 
 are fellows who've ate their breakfast on a 
 hunting morning at the rectory, and seen the 
 parson set the field before lunch-time. It's 
 difficult to say what sways men on these 
 points; but, upon my word, I doubt whether 
 about being the most deserving has much to 
 say to it.'' 
 
 " Well, Bob," said Maurice, with a low 
 laugh, " you can give me a pretty good 
 character to the Rev. John on some of these 
 points, should you come across him. You 
 know him intimately, I suppose ? " 
 
 "No, no, Maurice, pray don't run away
 
 " WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY." 23 
 
 with that idea ; that's just what I don't do. 
 I know him very well by repute, and I do 
 know him personally ; but remember that 
 he is a man before my time ; that I am 
 eight-and-twenty, and he's a man hard upon 
 seventy ; and that, consequently, I've only 
 met him at rare intervals. You needn't fear, 
 old man, that I would neglect doing you 
 any turn I could, but I own I don't see 
 much chance of my being of use to you." 
 
 " I had rather hoped you could," rejoined 
 Maurice, slowly. " The fact is, that, though 
 Bessie wrote to inform her uncle of her 
 approaching marriage, we have never had 
 
 a line from him since ; and we thought he 
 was good for a cream-jug at least. Never 
 
 mind, come upstairs, and I dare say Bessie 
 
 will give us a song ; " and as he spoke 
 
 Maurice rose from his chair, pitched the end 
 
 of his cigarette into the fireplace, and led 
 
 the way out of the room.
 
 24 A FALSE START. 
 
 They found Mrs. En derby not a little 
 bored in the drawing-room. These big 
 hotel salons are wont to be somewhat dull 
 unless you have your two or three intimates 
 to associate with. That dreary waste of 
 velvet chairs, sofas, and piled carpets be- 
 comes depressing as the Desert of Sahara 
 when it contains nought but a few scattered 
 Bedouins like yourself. Bedouins, I say 
 advisedly, for in these huge caravanserais 
 every man's hand is against his neighbour's. 
 Is he not plotting for the first glance at The 
 Times, for the warmest table in the coffee- 
 room ? or, if he be a frequenter of the table 
 d'hote, even for the first cut of the joint ? 
 Humanity has an instinctive tendency to 
 selfishness, but for rapid, fostering of that 
 baleful frailty commend me to a long course 
 of hotel sojourning. Poor Bessie ! she could 
 have amused herself quite well at the piano 
 for an hour or two ; she sang well, and the
 
 (i WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY." 25 
 
 instrument was a good one ; but she was ac- 
 tually weak-minded enough to fear to disturb 
 some of the other denizens of the drawing- 
 room — a thing that never would have entered 
 a thoroughly-trained hotel young lady's head. 
 It was the first evening since her marriage 
 she had been condemned to so much soli- 
 tude ; and she welcomed her husband and 
 his friend with a smile of intense relief. 
 
 " Dear me, Mrs. Enderby, I had no idea 
 that you were a niece of the Rev. John 
 Madingley. You know, of course, that 
 your uncle is quite a celebrity all round 
 this part of the country ? He is suffering 
 from a slight accident now ; but he's a 
 wonderful man of his years, and, they told 
 me, was going quite in the front rank when 
 he came to grief. Whenever they talk to 
 him about giving up hunting he always 
 laughs, and says, ' What ! give up ; me ? 
 Why, I'm a mere boy compared with the
 
 26 A FALSE START. 
 
 Flying Parson, down in the Belvoir country. 
 He is a good dozen years my senior ; and, 
 they tell me, if he gets a good start, there's 
 very few of the young 'uns can touch him 
 even now.' " 
 
 " He's more than a good sportsman, Mr. 
 Grafton. I can vouch for his having 
 always been the kindest and most liberal of 
 uncles.'' 
 
 " That's his character,'' replied Bob ; " he's 
 straight and true as a die, and there's many 
 a tale of his pluck and liberality in bygone 
 days current in the country. And now, 
 Mrs. Enderby, sing us something.'' 
 
 " Yes, indeed I will," replied Bessie. 
 " After such a eulogium on my uncle you 
 shall have a song after his own heart," and 
 with a gay laugh Bessie sat down to the 
 piano, and rattled off 
 
 " The day that we found him in Ranksboro' gorse." 
 
 Bob Grafton was delighted. " Splendid,
 
 "WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY." 27 
 
 Mrs. Enderby," he said, as she concluded. 
 u By Jove ! Maurice, if the Rev. John only 
 hears your wife sing that, I'd lay odds 
 there's a codicil in his will very much to 
 your joint benefit. He's one of the old sort, 
 and wonderfully fond of a good hunting- 
 song. And now I think I must say e Good- 
 night,' as I'm in for an early start to-mor- 
 row. Awfully glad to have met you, old 
 man ; and very, very pleased to have made 
 your acquaintance, Mrs. Enderby. We 
 shan't be long before we meet again. For 
 the present, good-bye." And, having shaken 
 hands, Bob Grafton once more adjourned 
 to the smoking-room. 
 
 Arrived there,* he extracted a solid cigar- 
 case from his pocket, and, having ordered 
 a portentous bucket of brandy and seltzer, 
 proceeded to ignite what he termed a 
 " roofer.'' " By Jove ! " he said, •* poor old
 
 28 A EALSE STAUT. 
 
 Maurice ! He's got an uphill game before 
 him ; but he's just the fellow to pull through 
 it. And after seeing his wife I can 
 quite fancy his not caring about waiting. 
 She's a clipper, that little woman ; that's 
 what she is ! Still, a prospective curacy 
 isn't much to start upon. However, the 
 Rev. John Madingley, I should think, could 
 give him a pretty good lift if he chooses. 
 And, if he only hears Mrs. Enderby sing 
 ' Ranksboro' gorse,' there won't be much 
 doubt about his doing his level best to help 
 them ; and, if that don't do, we must just 
 let him see Maurice ride for once. They 
 won't stand hunting parsons in these days, 
 and therefore he mustn't g6 on with it, but 
 just to show the Rev. John that he isn't 
 ' a tailor ' ; just for once it would be good 
 business. But what is the use of nrv specu- 
 lating ? Maurice is far cleverer than I am,
 
 "WHAT SORT OF A MAN IS JOHN MADINGLEY." 29 
 
 and knows his own business, of course, 
 best." With which sage reflection Bob 
 Grafton rose and departed in search of his 
 bed-room.
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 
 
 U I was sorry not to see more of your 
 friend Mr. Grafton," said Bessie, the next 
 morning, as she and her husband dawdled 
 over a lateish breakfast. " I suppose there's 
 no doubt that he did leave this morning ? " 
 
 s ' Yes ; I inquired ; and he left by the first 
 train for town. Here, waiter ; has the post 
 come in ? " 
 
 "Not the London one, sir." 
 
 Maurice was getting anxious for an answer
 
 THE WEDDWG PRESENT. 31 
 
 from an agent in town to whom he had writ- 
 ten some days previously on the state of 
 the curacy market. He had told this gentle- 
 man the localities he preferred, and had also 
 given him to understand what emolument 
 he would expect. 
 
 The reply had not come so speedily as he 
 had anticipated. Maurice had yet to learn 
 that what we desire in this world generally 
 takes some waiting for. 
 
 On this occasion he was destined to be 
 soon put out of his suspense, for in another 
 few minutes the waiter announced the arrival 
 of the London mail, and presented him with 
 a letter. 
 
 Maurice tore it open, and was bitterly 
 disappointed at its contents. The letter 
 assured him the particular localities he had 
 mentioned were extremely popular and much 
 sought after, that curates at present were 
 almost a drug in the market, that the salary
 
 32 A FALSE START. 
 
 he demanded was much in excess of that 
 usually given — except in large towns, or in 
 very out-of-the-way places, where either the 
 expense of living or the extreme dreariness 
 of the situation gave a claim to extra re- 
 muneration — that the profession was over- 
 stocked, and, like all other labour-markets, 
 suffered the usual consequences of the supply 
 exceeding the demand ; and finally wound 
 up by suggesting two or three very ineligi- 
 ble curacies at what Maurice deemed very 
 ineligible stipends. 
 
 Telling his wife that he had received a 
 business letter, and would smoke a cigar and 
 think over it before they went out for their 
 usual lounge on the Spa, Maurice strolled 
 into the town. It was a disappointment, 
 and he was getting anxious on the subject 
 of ways and means ; but he was not a man 
 to be cast down at the first rebuff. It was 
 rather a bore for a man just married to find
 
 THE WEDDING PKESENT. 33 
 
 the junior ranks of his profession so very 
 poorly paid ; however, he could doubtless 
 do better for himself than to listen to this 
 fellow's suggestions. Of course, it naturally 
 was to his interest to get rid of his most un- 
 saleable goods to start with. The chances 
 were the agent knew that he was a man 
 applying for his first curacy, and might, 
 therefore, be probably induced to jump at 
 the first thing put before him. No ; he 
 must try another — write to some old friends 
 of his father. And, having arrived at this 
 conclusion, Maurice threw away the end of 
 his cigar, and walked back to fetch his wife. 
 
 He found her already dressed, and waiting 
 for him on one of the seats in the hall, much 
 affected by visitors in the early autumn 
 days ; but there was a serious expression on 
 Bessie's face which startled Maurice directly. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter, little woman ? " 
 exclaimed her husband. " You look as if 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 34 A FALSE START. 
 
 the bank which contained all your savings 
 had smashed." 
 
 " Maurice, dear," she replied, " I've heard 
 from Uncle John." 
 
 "Well, what does he say? Is he very 
 angry with you for having married without 
 his permission, or has he sent you his bless- 
 ing and a bracelet ? " 
 
 Although Maurice made this inquiry in a 
 light and jesting manner, he, in reality, felt 
 no little anxiety to see what Uncle John 
 had said. Uncle John was the one relation 
 his wife had who could assist him in these 
 early days of his career, and no one but a 
 fool despises corks until he is convinced he 
 can swim without them. 
 
 " No," said Bessie, " his letter is not at 
 all unkind; but I can't understand it. I 
 don't quite know what he means.'' 
 
 '• Let me see it. It don't seem very long," 
 he remarked, as she handed it to him.
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT, 35 
 
 i i No ; Uncle John is not much given to 
 letter-writing at any time. And, of course, 
 his broken collar-bone would make writing 
 a little troublesome to him just now." 
 
 Maurice ran through the Kev. John's 
 epistle in silence. " Well," he said at last, 
 " I don't wonder you're puzzled ; it bothers 
 me. Let me read it again : — 
 
 " My dear Niece, 
 
 " Pray accept my heartiest congratulations 
 on your marriage. Your husband, from all 
 I can hear about him, is a good fellow, and 
 you will be all the better for having some- 
 body to take care of you in this world. I 
 should have written to you before, but an 
 awkward fence in the Holderness country 
 brought me and old Bacchus to grief, and I 
 don't fall so cleverly as I did some thirty 
 odd years ago ; the consequence was I broke 
 my collar-bone. It is getting all right 
 
 again now, but it must be my excuse for 
 d 2
 
 36 A FALSE START. 
 
 cutting my congratulations shorter than I 
 otherwise should. After all, when one has 
 said c Wish you joy ' I don't suppose there is 
 much more to be said on the subject, But 
 there is a little more to do. I'm going to 
 make you a present in my own way. I 
 have got the sweetest yearling filly you ever 
 set eyes upon. Her blood is undeniable. 
 Now, Bessie, I intend to go halves with you 
 in whatever this peerless flyer realises. So 
 next year your husband can follow the for- 
 tunes of i The Wandering Nun ' with con- 
 siderable interest. Hoping to meet him 
 soon, I remain your ever affectionate 
 uncle, 
 
 si John Madlngley." 
 
 " What do you make of it?" asked Bessie, 
 anxiously. " Uncle John don't keep race- 
 horses, does he ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I never trouble my head 
 about racing, though I've been very fond of
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 37 
 
 hunting ; still I must have heard of it if he 
 did, to say nothing of its being so very- 
 unlikely, in his position, that he would." 
 
 " Surely, from what Mr. Grafton said last 
 night, he used to go to race-meetings and 
 keep a good many horses. 7 ' 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; but going to races and 
 keeping race - horses are very different 
 things," rejoined Maurice. " From what 
 Grafton said he breeds a little, and, I sup- 
 pose, sells his young things. I take it, 
 whatever this prodigy fetches, he intends 
 to present you with half of it. And though, 
 of course, it is rather uncertain, if he is 
 lucky it may turn out a very handsome 
 present — as much, perhaps, as two or three 
 hundred pounds — though, on the other hand, 
 thirty or forty might represent its value." 
 
 " Then, even at its worst, it's likely to 
 be a very handsome tip. I thought I could 
 count on a wedding present from Uncle
 
 38 A FALSE STAUT. 
 
 John. I am glad, Maurice, that he has 
 put it in that shape, instead of jewelry, it 
 will be more useful when we come to 
 settle." 
 
 "I tell you what it is, Bessie," replied 
 her husband. "If he hadn't gone away, 
 Bob Grafton could have told us all about 
 this. He goes in for it a bit, and knows 
 lots of racing people. But I have no doubt 
 my explanation is the true one — that he has 
 bred a very promising filly, and intends 
 giving you half of whatever she fetches. 
 And now come along for a blow down the 
 Spa." 
 
 As they strolled up and down Maurice 
 turned Uncle John's gift over in his mind 
 a good deal. If it only came soon, and that 
 cheque was for three hundred pounds, that 
 cheque would be a great thing for him. 
 His father had been a clergyman, and had died 
 before Maurice went to the university, leaving
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 39 
 
 his widow modestly provided for, and 
 some two hundred and fifty a year to his 
 only son. But Maurice, when he came of 
 age, had dipped somewhat into his capital. 
 Without reckless extravagance a popular 
 man of his tastes had need to be a good 
 manager to make this modest income suffice. 
 And this was just what Maurice Enderby was 
 not. He was the last man in the world to 
 get twenty shillings' worth out of a sovereign. 
 He had not that great and glorious faculty 
 of u sticking to money." The northern 
 farmer's advice to " go where money was" 
 would have been quite thrown away upon 
 him. He was so much more likely to go 
 where money ivent. It is so with some 
 of us. Unlike the bees, we don't possess the 
 gift of acquisition; and though, doubtless? 
 we have parlous times, we have also in com- 
 pensation far happier days, and yet these 
 happier days are apt to have a sting in them.
 
 40 A FALSE START. 
 
 And Maurice at this minute is grievously 
 troubled about his Oxford liabilities. What 
 had been left of his capital, and he had not 
 encroached upon more than a third of it, he 
 had settled, upon his marriage, on his wife. 
 But there were some six or seven hundred 
 pounds of Oxford ticks still hanging over 
 his head. And when — his university career 
 over — a man marries and settles down, such 
 creditors show a touching anxiety on the 
 subject of payment. 
 
 " Should you mind very much, Bessie, 
 if we cut off a week of our wedding tour, 
 or rather finished it in London ? You see, 
 little woman, we are spending rather more 
 here than I care about." 
 
 •'•' Oh, Maurice," she said, pressing his 
 arm, " I have been afraid so for some 
 time. You have always told me we are 
 not rich ; and I am sure we are living 
 at that hotel as if we had lots of money.
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 41 
 
 I never see the bills, but I do know that 
 much." 
 
 "Yes; and, what's more, I find I can't 
 look out for employment by post. I must 
 go up to London and see some of these 
 people. I tell you what, we'll leave at 
 the end of our week. ,, 
 
 There were a good many admiring 
 glances cast at the young couple as they 
 strolled up and down the promenade, 
 Maurice's tall, lithe figure, bold dark eye, 
 and resolute features, were such as women 
 love to look upon ; while Bessie, in her 
 way, seemed to prove quite as attractive 
 to the opposite sex. That promenade in 
 the autumn season is a strange melange of 
 visitors. Ladies of title, ladies of Southport 
 and Manchester, theatrical ladies, and ladies 
 of more notoriety than reputation, pass up 
 and down in ever- varying procession. Ex- 
 soldiers, idle men-about-town, country gentle-
 
 42 A FALSE START. 
 
 men, and scions of the peerage, all mingle 
 in the throng that wanders up and down? 
 ogling, gossiping, smoking, and drinking 
 in, the invigorating breezes of the North 
 Sea, while the music of the band titillates 
 their ears. 
 
 Sitting on one of the chairs just below 
 the circular platform occupied by the band 
 was a stout, pompous, prosperous-looking 
 man attired in unmistakeable clerical gar- 
 ments. Bright beady black eyes and a 
 face and figure that were always aggressively 
 asserting the self-importance of their owner. 
 A man sure to catch your eye. A man 
 about whom you were certain to wonder 
 who he was. He wasn't quite a bishop 
 that was evident by his dress; he might be 
 a dean, or, in default of that, was clearly 
 some well-known dignitary of the Church. 
 He was nothing of the kind— he was only 
 the Rev. Jacob Jarrow, Rector of Tunnleton,
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 43 
 
 a small country town in the neighbourhood 
 of the metropolis. Mr. Jarrow's bright eyes 
 took in everything in an amused way. Up 
 here in the north he could afford to enjoy 
 himself. Anywhere in his own neighbour- 
 hood such little oblivion of his presence 
 would have moved him to infinite wrath, 
 but these poor benighted northerners could 
 hardly be expected to recognise one of the 
 leading Churchmen of the south, for such 
 was the Rev. Jacob Jarrow in his own 
 estimation. Mr. Jarrow had waged a fierce 
 polemical discussion in the local newspapers, 
 which he believed had arrested the attention 
 of all the southern country. That how he 
 had trounced his adversary in The Tumile- 
 ton Chronicle had been matter of derisive 
 laughter for many miles round that town 
 he believed firmly. He was right ; there 
 had been much derision on the subject, but 
 it had been more directed at him than at
 
 44 A FALSE START. 
 
 his adversary ; although one critic of those 
 parts had pronounced it a case of two 
 pragmatical fools disputing about a subject 
 which neither of them understood. Still 
 the Rev. Jacob Jarrow was firmly impressed 
 that, under the pseudonym of " Thomas 
 Verity/' he had acquired solid literary 
 fame ; that he was pointed out as the author 
 of the " Verity Papers," and that it was a 
 singular thing he never saw his photograph 
 in the shop windows, nor was asked for his 
 autograph outside the precincts of Tunnie- 
 ton. 
 
 Tired of strolling up and down, Maurice 
 and his wife sat down on the seats adjacent 
 to Mr. Jarrow. That reverend gentleman, 
 not wishing that any frivolous view should 
 be taken of his character, had brought with 
 him a number of The Nineteenth Century. 
 The magazine had fallen to the ground, and 
 Maurice, stooping down, courteously picked
 
 THE WEDDING PRESENT. 45 
 
 it up and returned it to him — a trifle, 
 destined to play no little important part in 
 the next year or two of Maurice Enderby's 
 life.
 
 46 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARROW. 
 
 Mr. Jarrow acknowledged the polite atten- 
 tion with a bland smile. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," he said. " The beauty 
 of the scene, the soft strains of the band, 
 and the invigorating sea - air, made me 
 oblivious of my friend here. Very interest- 
 ing articles to be met with in its covers." 
 
 The anecdote of the great statesman who, 
 upon turning over the leaves of one of the 
 heavy -metaled magazines in its early days, 
 shrugged his shoulders and murmured the
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARROW. 47 
 
 brief criticism, " Dolorous drivel," flashed 
 across Maurice's mind; but he felt it be- 
 hoved him to make friends with the dig- 
 nitaries of the Church ; and, though The 
 'Nineteenth Century was no particular 
 favourite of his, he acquiesced in Mr. 
 Jarrow's opinion. 
 
 " It's a glorious triumph, sir," remarked 
 Mr. Jarrow, " it sends a glow of enthu- 
 siasm through your body, the power of 
 disseminating your views in print. Your 
 fellow-men who have read you cannot but 
 look at you with admiration." 
 
 " Conceited fool ! '' thought Maurice ; " he 
 must surely know that his fellow- men take a 
 very opposite view of the performance some- 
 times." 
 
 " More especially," continued the Rev. 
 Jacob, " when, after a somewhat prolonged 
 controversy, you've got your adversary in a 
 particularly tight place. You can enjoy
 
 48 A FALSE START. 
 
 your laugh, sir, when you feel sure that 
 your friends and neighbours are all laughing 
 with you." 
 
 " You must be quite sure that they are 
 laughing with you," thought Maurice ; but 
 all he said was, " I presume you yourself 
 wield a pen pretty frequently, sir ? " 
 
 •' Certainly; I don't let my grey goose- 
 quill rust in the ink- stand, as I think they 
 would tell you down in the southern 
 counties. I think I have made my mark 
 in my own part of the country. I am 
 pretty well known down there. You may 
 have heard, sir, of the c Verity Letters.' I 
 am Thomas Verity." And no words can 
 describe the self-complacency with which 
 Mr. Jarrow made the announcement. 
 Maurice had a strong sense of humour, 
 and it was with the greatest difficulty that 
 he restrained his laughter. 
 
 " Everybody has heard of the ' Verity
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARHOW. 49 
 
 Letters/ " he rejoined mendaciously, u but I 
 regret it has not been as yet my privilege to 
 read them. However, Mr. Verity, now I 
 have had the pleasure of meeting the author, 
 I shall lose no time in repairing that 
 omission." 
 
 a Perhaps you will do me the honour to 
 accept a copy. I happen by chance to have 
 one with me." 
 
 It would have been an extraordinary 
 chance that found the reverend gentleman 
 without one ; he always travelled with 
 about half-a-dozen in his baggage, and 
 presented a copy to any casual acquaintance 
 he might pick up. He found it easier to 
 dispose of them in this way than through 
 the medium of the publisher. 
 
 u Thank you, Mr. Verity, I shall be very 
 proud to have a presentation copy, and shall 
 read the book, I am sure, with extra zest 
 on that account. I dare say they made 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A FALSE START. 
 
 a great sensation at the time they were 
 published." 
 
 " They did, sir ; but you must excuse me. 
 You doubtless know nothing about the 
 customs of the literary world. ' Verity ' is 
 only my nom de plume. You are aware, 
 perhaps, that we authors constantly veil our 
 personality under an assumed name." 
 
 " Would it be indiscreet," inquired 
 Maurice, once more struggling with sup- 
 pressed laughter, u to ask Thomas Verity's 
 real name ? These things, you must know, 
 speedily become such very open secrets." 
 
 u Too true, my dear friend," replied the 
 Rev. Mr. Jarrow, who had a capacity for 
 swallowing any quantity of oleaginous 
 flattery, and already mentally pronounced 
 Maurice to be a very clever gentlemanly 
 young man. " If you once make a hit with 
 the public they will know your real name 
 and all about you. Anybody, for instance,
 
 THE REV. JACOB JAUR0W. 51 
 
 at Tunnleton could tell you that Thomas 
 Verity is the Rev. Jacob Jarrow, rector of 
 St. Mary's." 
 
 u I beg your pardon," said Maurice, " but 
 I know Tunnleton a little, I suppose I ought 
 rather to say did, for it's a good while since 
 I've been there, not since my boyhood in- 
 deed. I had some friends there with whom 
 I used occasionally to stay for the Easter 
 holidays when I was at Harrow. My people, 
 you see, live down in the west country, and 
 thought it rather too far and too expensive 
 to have me home for a week ; it is quite 
 possible, Mr. Jarrow, that I may have had 
 the honour of hearing you in the pulpit, but, 
 however eloquent the divine may be, it is 
 difficult to make an impression on a school- 
 boy." 
 
 "No, at that age you would hardly be 
 capable of thoroughly comprehending a dis- 
 course of mine. I don't preach to babes and 
 e2 
 
 HNWERSITY OF ILUiWft 
 UBRAR1
 
 52 A FALSE START. 
 
 sucklings, sir, but to people of understand- 
 ing ; and I flatter myself they rarely forget 
 my poor efforts." 
 
 Mr. Jarrow's traducers would have em- 
 phatically endorsed that remark, and opined 
 that he was usually remembered as what 
 Baxter denominates, " a pious and painful 
 preacher." 
 
 61 May I ask," continued Mr. Jarrow, 
 "the names of your friends in Tunnleton, 
 and whom I have the pleasure of speaking 
 to?" 
 
 " My name is Maurice Enderby," replied 
 the young man smiling, " and this lady is 
 my wife." 
 
 The rector raised his hat and murmured, 
 "that he was delighted to make Mrs. 
 Enderby's acquaintance." 
 
 " I ought further to observe," continued 
 Maurice, " that I am entitled to add the 
 prefix of Rev. to my name."
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARROW. bo 
 
 "What, my dear sir, a brother in the 
 vineyard ! Allow me to shake you by the 
 hand. But you're young as yet, surely, to 
 be trusted with the cure of souls." 
 
 "You are quite right,'' rejoined Maurice, 
 laughing. " I am not as yet ordained. 
 The cousins at Tunnleton with whom I used 
 to stay are the Chyltons." 
 
 "Ah! I knew the old people very well," 
 replied Mr. Jarrow, "but I don't know much 
 of the present generation. They are not 
 parishioners of mine. And now methinks 
 the sea-breezes sharpen the appetite, and it is 
 getting time to attend to the inward man." 
 
 " I quite agree with you,'' rejoined 
 Maurice. " Come along, Bessie. You don't 
 happen to be staying at the ' Grand, ' Mr. 
 Jarrow, do you ? " 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Enderby," replied the 
 rector, " that is rather too gay and rackety a 
 place for a man holding my position in the
 
 54 A FALSE START. 
 
 Church. I am in lodgings ; which are much 
 quieter and less expensive. I wish you good 
 morning." And, raising his hat to Mrs. 
 Enderby, he took his departure. Suddenly 
 he turned, and coming rapidly back ex- 
 claimed : u Don't be afraid, I won't forget 
 the book. I'll send it round to you at the 
 i Grand.' As a clergyman's wife I dare say 
 it wi]l interest you, Mrs. Enderby." And 
 with another flourish of his hat the rector 
 wheeled about and sailed off in his usual 
 stately fashion. 
 
 " Well," said Bessie, laughing merrily, " I 
 always say there's never so great a fool but 
 what he has a grain or two of common sense 
 at the bottom of him ; and after all the 
 inflated rubbish he has talked to us this 
 morning that was a sensible remark he made 
 at the end." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Maurice. 
 
 " The lodgings are much quieter and less
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARROW. 55 
 
 expensive than at the ' Grand,' my dear.'' 
 And Mrs. Enderby looked archly up into 
 her husband's face. 
 
 Maurice's only answer was an impatient 
 a Pshaw ! " and the pair went home to 
 luncheon in excellent spirits, however un- 
 certain their prospects. 
 
 There was a letter awaiting Maurice 
 when he arrived at the hotel, an ominous 
 looking document in a square stout blue 
 envelope. The young man just glanced at 
 it, and at once decided to put off the 
 perusal of it till after luncheon. He felt 
 sure its contents would be unpleasant, and, 
 like a true philosopher, resolved that his 
 digestion should not be interfered with. 
 But, his meal once finished, Maurice tore 
 open the envelope, and found it a stern 
 and very peremptory demand for his little 
 account from Mr. Badger. Now Mr. 
 Badger was Maurice's most serious creditor
 
 56 A FALSE START. 
 
 at Oxford. Mr. Badger was a livery-stable 
 keeper, who supplied undergraduates with 
 unlimited hacks and hunters during their 
 University career. During that time Badger 
 never troubled you for money, but, when 
 the period of your academical course was 
 run, then Badger demanded his due, or, 
 at all events, a pretty stiff instalment of 
 it. Now there is no account a man can run 
 that runs with the rapidity of this. Half- 
 guineas and guineas for hacks, three guineas 
 for hunters, tandems and items of different- 
 descriptions — all these gather with the 
 rapidity of a snow-ball, and, though Mau- 
 rice during his residence at Cambridge 
 had more than once paid what he thought 
 a stiffish cheque on account, he was per- 
 fectly aghast at the tremendous bill Mr. 
 Badger presented him with when they 
 wound up their dealings together. 
 
 Badger's was not quite such a lucrative
 
 THE REV. JACOB J ARROW. 57 
 
 trade as it appeared; if he charged very 
 stiff prices he undoubtedly found good 
 cattle, and in most cases had to wait a 
 long while for his money, and sometimes 
 failed to obtain it at all. He calculated that 
 generally the young gentlemen's friends 
 would pay up for them, but there were 
 cases in which he was doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. Sometimes parents and guardians 
 sickened at the young scapegraces' extrava- 
 gances, in others there were no friends who 
 could pay for them if they would. It is 
 not surprising, therefore, that Mr. Badger 
 should, in his own vernacular, u put the 
 screw on '' as soon as his customers left the 
 University. He was not merciless, but 
 required to be propitiated by pretty fre- 
 quent instalments, and, as he was rather 
 hungry on the matter of interest, if the 
 instalments were small, the bill grew at 
 one end as fast as it diminished at the other.
 
 58 A FALSE START. 
 
 This unluckily was Maurice's case, and the 
 interest on his debt at the end of the year 
 usually amounted to over half of the sum 
 that he had paid upon it. Mr. Badger 
 constantly threatened severe legal ex- 
 tremities ; he at times undoubtedly resorted 
 to them, but he was a man wise in his 
 generation, and as long as his victims 
 submitted to an annual plucking he ab- 
 stained from wringing their necks. It was 
 no use, he argued; a good many of these 
 suckling lawyers and parsons could not 
 make the money to begin with, and that 
 if he could grind the interest out of them, 
 and a little bit off the principal to boot, he 
 could afford to wait ; but he kept his clients 
 under the harrow while their debt lasted, 
 and many of them bitterly regretted the 
 first day they crossed a hack of Tony 
 Badger's. 
 
 About Maurice En derby he had made
 
 THE REV. JACOB JARROW. 59 
 
 two mistakes. He was a man who made 
 very precise inquiries as to the means of 
 his customers. He had discovered that 
 Maurice's money was entirely in his own 
 hands, but his informant had considerably 
 over-estimated the amount of it. Mistake 
 number two, though not of so much import- 
 ance, was this, that it had never entered 
 his calculations that Maurice Enderby 
 would marry so soon. He knew that 
 the wringing money from him just now 
 would probably be considerably more diffi- 
 cult than if he had remained single. Against 
 that was to be placed the fact that he was 
 more likely to set to work and make it at 
 once than dawdle two or three years think- 
 ing about doing so. Still, Tony Badger 
 kept to his old theory of dealing with such 
 debtors as his: "Keep 'em under the harrow? 
 sir, keep 'em under the harrow," was his 
 advice invariably when talking over their
 
 60 A FALSE STAItT. 
 
 out- standing accounts with some of his 
 brethren at the Tradesmens Club — men who, 
 like himself, ministered to the wants of the 
 undergraduates in liberal and paternal 
 fashion. — " What, not hunt, Mr. Enderby, 
 with such hands and a seat on a horse as 
 yours. Such weather as this and all, why 
 it's a sin, sir. There's old Rocket, the 
 best hunter I have in the stable, standing 
 idle to-morrow. I shall send him on for you 
 to-morrow, and you'll find a hack all ready 
 for you as soon as you like to come down 
 for it. Now, nonsense Mr. Enderby, don't 
 say you can't afford it, you can pay me 
 when you're a dean or a bishop, or on the 
 bench, or something or other. And mind, 
 you won't be able to hunt in those days, 
 or, if you do, your nerves won't be what 
 they are now, sir. You'll go through a gate 
 instead of over it, and never be in the first 
 flight again. No, sir, have your fling while
 
 THE REV. JACOB J ARROW. 61 
 
 you're young, and pay off the score when 
 hunting's no fun to you." That was the 
 way the artful sophist tempted the poor 
 stupid toad to first come under the harrow.
 
 62 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 
 
 A pretty, pleasant, dear, quarrelsome little 
 town was Tunnleton ; situated in the 
 prettiest county in England, within easy 
 distance of the metropolis It boasted a 
 medicated spring and a pump-room, wherein 
 for a trifle waters of exceeding nastiness 
 might be tasted. Tunnleton, indeed, in 
 former days, had been a notable health 
 resort, and fine folks had flocked thither 
 to drink from its hyssop -flavoured fountain ;
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 63 
 
 not because they required it, but because it 
 was the fashion. Nowadays the place was 
 no longer fashionable. The pump-room 
 bore a mildewed neglected appearance ; and, 
 except for some passing stranger, who, from 
 idle curiosity, quaffed a beaker of its waters 
 the presiding nymph would have found her 
 post profitless. 
 
 But Tunnleton was far from admitting 
 that its glory had departed. It still regarded 
 itself as a supreme authority on taste and 
 good style. Its citizens, on their occasional 
 visits to the metropolis, regarded the pomps 
 and vanities of London with a hypercritical 
 eye. They were all very well in their way; 
 but they would not quite do for Tunnleton. 
 They were wont to admit, superciliously, 
 that town was full ; but implied at the same 
 time that there was more going on in Tunnle- 
 ton. They were quite of the same mind 
 with that celebrated local patriot who said
 
 64 A FALSE START. 
 
 si London is all vary fine; but gie me Peebles 
 for plaisure." They shut their eyes pretty 
 tightly to the exceeding dulness of the 
 dreary little place, and, by some pious 
 stretch of imagination, persuaded themselves 
 that life in Tunnleton was one delirious 
 whirl of enjoyment. They spoke to each 
 other in almost reproachful fashion about 
 how very gay the season had been, as if it 
 really did behove one to resist so much tempta- 
 tion, and to take a more serious view of life. 
 " It won't do, my dear ; it won't, indeed ; 
 I can't put up with it any longer," 
 exclaimed the Rev. Jacob Jarrow, as he 
 sipped his tea and crunched his toast, look- 
 ing lazily out over one of the prettiest land- 
 scapes in England. " Mr. Lomax must go ; 
 he sacrifices all his parish duties to the pur- 
 suit of that idiotic amusement lawn tennis ; 
 and, instead of coming to church to say 
 their prayers, as Christian young women
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO, 65 
 
 ought to do, there's half the girls of Tunnle- 
 ton come simply to make eyes at my curate. 
 Can't you see it yourself, Mrs. Jarrow ? 
 When I preach in the morning, sermons too, 
 mind you, full of pungency and erudition, 
 why the church is half empty. When that 
 young puppy preaches in the afternoon the 
 church is crammed. No rational being can 
 suppose that they come to hear him. No, 
 Mrs. Jarrow, those misguided young women 
 come to look at him ; they work slippers for 
 him furtively ; and cherish secret; hopes of be- 
 coming Mrs. Lomax, and sharing his penury. 
 A pretty qualification for an eligible suitor 
 that he hits a ball rather deftly over a net. 
 No ! he must go ; and I'll take very good 
 care that my next curate is either married or 
 too old to play lawn tennis ; or so hard- 
 favoured that there is no feminine anxiety 
 to be his partner." 
 
 u Of course you know best, my clear,'' 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A FALSE START. 
 
 said Mrs. Jarrow ; "but I think Mr. Lomax 
 does the duty very nicely, and he is very 
 popular in the parish ; and then, you know, 
 he thinks so much of you," continued the 
 good lady jesuitically. "I have heard him 
 speak quite with enthusiasm about the 
 < Verity Letters.' " 
 
 Mrs. Jarrow might not be a very clever 
 woman ; but the dullest of wives are usually 
 thoroughly awake to their husbands' weak- 
 nesses. She knew her spouse's vanity, 
 especially on the point of that imaginary 
 literary reputation, based principally on 
 what he believed to be those famous letters. 
 She was a practical, good-natured motherly 
 woman; and honestly liked the young curate. 
 He was, as her husband said, popular 
 amongst the people around, doing his work 
 fairly, of irreproachable character, and al- 
 ways ready to make a fourth at lawn tennis, 
 warble sentimental ballads in a mild tenor
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 67 
 
 voice at afternoon tea, which the ladies pro- 
 nounced "too awfully sweet," or join in the 
 disispation of a carpet dance with the ac- 
 companiments of negus and a piano. Mrs. 
 Jarrow, to those unacquainted with the 
 menage, appeared as wax in her lord's hands. 
 She put in her mild protest, which was at 
 once, apparently, overwhelmed by the blus- 
 tering, arrogant, decision of her spouse. 
 But Mrs. Jarrow was one of those quiet, 
 pertinacious women that never abandon their 
 point ; returning to it again and again, with 
 what may be described as placid obstinacy- — 
 a thing extremely difficult to cope with. 
 The Rev. Jacob Jarrow was very apt to 
 change his original decision before many 
 weeks were over his head. In racing par- 
 lance, the lady " stayed " the longest ; but 
 there was a point against her this time that 
 she rather overlooked, to wit, that the Rev. 
 
 Jacob's vanity was wounded. To discover 
 
 f2
 
 68 A FALSE START. 
 
 that his curate had more attractions in the 
 pulpit than himself was excessive morti- 
 fication to a man like the rector of St. 
 Mary's, who considered that his windy 
 orations were model discourses, and that his 
 delivery was striking. He was in the main 
 perfectly right that Mr. Lomax's social 
 popularity accounted for the good attend- 
 ance at St. Mary's when he officiated, for 
 the young man's sermons were composed for 
 the most of those mild platitudes which have 
 so often brought exceeding drowsiness to 
 most of us ; but, for all that, there was no 
 denying the fact that the parishioners pre- 
 ferred the milk and water of the curate to 
 the windy garrulity of the rector. 
 
 For once in a way Mrs. Jarrow found her 
 influence of no avail ; return to the charge 
 as often as she might, the rector was firm. 
 Mr. Lomax must go. That gentleman was 
 too fond of gadding about to attend to his
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 69 
 
 duties properly, declared Mr. Jarrow ; but, 
 though he insisted vehemently on this to his 
 partner, the rector knew in the bottom of 
 his heart it was hardly the truth. No doubt 
 Mr. Lomax might have been more energetic, 
 more enthusiastic about his work, but to say 
 that he neglected it was manifest exaggera- 
 tion. He was a good looking young fellow, 
 of whom Tunnleton society had taken upon 
 themselves to make much. Young men were 
 somewhat scarce in the gossiping little town, 
 and an " adaptable " cavalier willing to be 
 useful all round was something to be made 
 much of. Mr. Lomax was all this: of a 
 cheery sociable nature, he gave a thorough 
 quid pro quo for all the hospitality he 
 received; and there was, perhaps, no more 
 popular gentleman in all Tunnleton than the 
 curate. 
 
 It's no use, oh ye heads of families, fuming 
 at the airs they give themselves ; you
 
 70 A FALSE START. 
 
 cannot get on without these nonchalant 
 young men, who from necessity live upon 
 mutton chops, or a cut off the joint, washed 
 down by club St. Estephe, which sets one's 
 teeth on edge, but who drink your carefully- 
 selected champagne and abuse your cook, in 
 their callous ignorance, when you entertain 
 them. What judges of wine, women, to- 
 bacco, and horseflesh most of us were before 
 the down on our upper lip was recognised 
 as a moustache by any one save ourselves ; 
 and how diffident we become in our opinion 
 concerning them at the end of another five- 
 and-twenty years. 
 
 Mr. Lomax was very much taken aback 
 when the rector broke to him that, at the 
 end of the year, he should dispense with his 
 services. He liked Tunnleton as well as 
 Tunnleton liked him ; and, till such time as 
 a living might be offered him, was well- 
 content with his present position. He had
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 71 
 
 always got on capitally with Mr. Jarrow, 
 there had never been the slightest friction 
 in their relations ; and, therefore, the curate 
 was most genuinely surprised upon receiving 
 his conge, 
 
 " I trust," he said, " that you have no 
 fault to find with the performance of my 
 duties, Mr. Jarrow." 
 
 " Certainly not ; and, though you are, 
 perhaps, a little more given to tennis and 
 such amusements than I quite approve, I 
 shall be happy to give you excellent testi- 
 monials." 
 
 " But you surely can't object to my danc- 
 ing, playing tennis, or mingling in the 
 society of the place," urged Mr. Lomax. 
 
 u No ; it is not exactly that. I am per- 
 fectly satisfied with you ; perfectly satisfied, 
 as I said before : but the fact is, that, now 
 that my great controversy is over, and 
 Thomas Verity has triumphed over his con-
 
 72 A FALSE STA11T. 
 
 temptible opponents, I really don't know 
 that I am justified — in short, there is nothing 
 to prevent me — in fact, I think I can do all 
 the parish work myself." 
 
 Mr. Jarrow hummed and ha'ed a good 
 deal over this speech. He was conscious 
 that he was indulging in " tarradiddles," 
 but he could not confess that he was jealous 
 of Mr. Lomax's popularity in the parish. 
 Even to himself he scarcely admitted that, 
 persistently thrusting the thought away from 
 him as we are apt to do such secret motives 
 when a little ashamed of them. There was 
 no reason that Mr. Jarrow should not change 
 his curate ; it was equally natural that Mr. 
 Lomax should wish to know why he was 
 dismissed, and the consequence was inevit- 
 able ; nothing was left for Mr. Jarrow but 
 to equivocate. Civilization entails regard 
 for the feelings of our fellows which na- 
 turally necessitates untruthfulness. Shall
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 73 
 
 we have less regard for our own feelings 
 than those of others ? I trow not, whatever 
 sentiment may say about it ; at all events 
 it is not so in my experience. 
 
 Mr. Lorn ax entertained strong doubts of 
 the good faith of the rector's statement, but 
 there was no more to be said, and un- 
 doubtedly it was possible for a man to do 
 the work of St. Mary's single-handed if 
 he chose to stick to it ; still it was some 
 years since Mr. Jarrow had undertaken it, 
 and he had neither increased in energy 
 nor decreased in love of literary warfare 
 during that period. If the Verity Letters 
 had come to an end all Tunnleton knew the 
 rector of St Mary's was on the alert for 
 some similar opportunity. Mr. Lomax saw 
 no reason, now that it was definitely decided 
 that he was to go, for keeping the thing a 
 secret, and in a day or two all Tunnleton 
 was aware that they were to lose their pet
 
 74 A FALSE START. 
 
 curate. Tunnleton was excessively wrath ; 
 what the matrons denominated useful young 
 men were scarce in the little town, and Mr. 
 Lomax was a decided acquisition at either 
 dance or garden party. 
 
 Generals Maddox and Praun, in their 
 position of prominent leaders of Tunnleton 
 society, curiously enough were particularly 
 exercised about this news. The veterans 
 you see had not much to occupy their minds 
 in this place, and the satrap of an Indian 
 province may in his declining years be ab- 
 sorbed in the babble of a country town. 
 These were men who, far from making 
 their mark, had, indeed, rather made a 
 muddle of their opportunities, still they 
 had in their day swayed the destiny of 
 thousands, and yet as our sphere con- 
 tracts so do our ideas. The petty gossip 
 and caballing of an inland watering- 
 place were more to them now than the
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 75 
 
 news that the Mahraattas were across the 
 Nerbudda. 
 
 Imbued with the old dictatorial instincts 
 of their profession, the veterans occasionally 
 forgot that they were no longer military 
 despots ruling a district, and foolishly pro- 
 mulgated edicts or ventured upon expos- 
 tulation for which they had no warrant. 
 Triumvirates and consulates have never 
 been a success 'tis doubtful whether the two 
 kings of Brentford worked well together, but 
 where — as in the case of Tunnleton — the 
 generals were as plentiful as shells on the 
 shingle, there were not two but many claim- 
 ants of the sceptre ; and there was much jea- 
 lousy concerning social status amongst these 
 grim old warriors. A dinner party for instance 
 in Tunnleton bore some resemblance to that 
 famous congress of the last century which 
 dissolved because they never could settle the 
 order in which to take their seats. The
 
 76 A FALSE START. 
 
 gallant officers at length came to the con- 
 clusion that in the interests of Tunnleton 
 it were well that they should expostulate 
 with the rector on the subject, yet at the 
 same time they knew from experience that 
 this was a somewhat awkward undertaking ; 
 the rector was quite as jiompous as General 
 Maddox himself, and more obstinate than 
 the two put together ; still, as Praun said, he 
 must speak and he would, and that irascible 
 gentleman had very little difficulty in churn- 
 ing himself np to that white heat at which 
 when attained he felt capable of giving the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury himself a bit of 
 his mind. He had not long to wait his 
 opportunity — ere forty-eight hours were over 
 he encountered Mr. Jarrow on the prome- 
 nade. General Praun might not be a dis- 
 creet man, nor yet a judicious one, but he 
 could not be called an inert one. In those 
 days when he occupied an office-chair no
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES GO. 77 
 
 staff-officer ever penned such fiery diatribes 
 at the shortcomings of his subordinates as 
 he. When, unfortunately for his country, 
 he changed the office -stool for the sword 
 no leader ever delivered such hasty, ill- 
 designed, and unfortunate attacks as the 
 general. He was essentially an irascible 
 man, and, to use a slang phrase, was al- 
 ways " to be drawn " in action, argument, 
 or correspondence, and, like most of these 
 hot-headed, bellicose natures, had consider- 
 ably more fight than science. 
 
 u Good morning, Jarrow," he exclaimed; 
 " the very man I wanted to meet. What 
 is all this I hear about your parting with 
 young Lomax ?" 
 
 The rector drew himself up a little stiffly 
 as he replied — 
 
 u You have been correctly informed, 
 General, Mr. Lomax and I are about to 
 part."
 
 78 A FALSE START. 
 
 " Oh, that's all nonsense, Jarrow, you 
 will have to reconsider that verdict ; we 
 can't spare him, you know ; most popular 
 young man in Tunnleton ; most popular 
 preacher we have had at St. Mary's " — 
 and here the general pulled himself up 
 abruptly, and manifested a severe affection 
 of the throat, having suddenly become 
 aware that he was putting his foot in it, 
 and that his last remark was hardly com- 
 plimentary to the rector of that church. 
 
 "I don't think, General Praun," replied 
 Mr. Jarrow, with much stateliness, u that 
 Tunnleton has anything to do with my 
 private arrangements with Mr. Lomax ; 
 suffice it to say that I think it desirable 
 that we should part." 
 
 " The people about will regret it very 
 much ; and I suppose you have some regard 
 for public opinion," replied the general, 
 getting very red in the face.
 
 CURATES COME AND CURATES CO. 79 
 
 u Not when public opinion is meddling 
 in things with which it has no concern. 
 The laity have nothing to do with things 
 ecclesiastic, '' and the rector quite chuckled 
 after the, so to speak, oily rotundity of his 
 last remark. 
 
 " I can hardly call your parting with a 
 curate ' things ecclesiastic,' " retorted Gene- 
 ral Praun, hotly ; u and I presume I have 
 a perfect right, like all Tunnleton, to hope 
 that it is not the case. Good morning." 
 
 A stately salutation was the sole response 
 of Mr. Jarrow. He bowed to his equals, 
 or waved his hand condescendingly to his 
 inferiors ; but the familiar nod was a thing 
 that he never descended to ; indeed, the 
 man's pomposity and vanity precluded Mr. 
 J arrow's having" any intimates.
 
 80 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TUNNLETON. 
 
 A letter from the Reverend Jacob Jarrow, 
 after some days, found Maurice Enderby. 
 He was living in very quiet lodgings in Mar- 
 garet Street, and considerably exercised in 
 his own mind on the subject of this curacy. 
 It was not that curacies were not offered 
 him, but they might be described as curacies 
 of desolation. Framley- on -the -Marsh, for 
 instance, in the far fens of Lincolnshire, was 
 not the kind of thing that any one but a
 
 TUNNLETON. 81 
 
 Diogenes would jump at. Slopperton-on- 
 the-Sea was undoubtedly a very rising 
 watering-place, but then it had, as yet, 
 equally undoubtedly not risen ; was crowded 
 for a few weeks in the height of summer 
 with ineligible visitors from the neighbour- 
 ing towns, and was a place you socially 
 shared with the doctor and coastguard 
 officer during the remainder of the year. 
 That employment of some sort he must get, 
 and that speedily, was perfectly clear to 
 Maurice ; but that it would be very bitter 
 bread if it was to be earned in such cures 
 as had hitherto offered themselves to his 
 acceptance, was no less patent. Therefore 
 it was with a perfectly jubilant feeling that 
 he perused a letter from the Rector of St. 
 Mary's which was forwarded to him. 
 
 Mr. Jarrow not only offered a more 
 liberal salary than was proffered for any of 
 the places before-mentioned, but Tunnleton 
 
 vol. I. G
 
 82 A FALSE START. 
 
 was in the world, Tunnleton was within 
 fifty or sixty miles of London. From 
 Tunnleton there was a chance of running 
 up to town now and again, and looking out 
 for something better. Besides, there must 
 be society of some sort at Tunnleton ; con- 
 siderably more than could be said of such 
 places as Framley-on-the- Marsh or Slopper- 
 ton-on-the-Sea. Maurice Enderby, after due 
 confabulation with his wife, resolved to run 
 down to Tunnleton, and have an interview 
 with the Rev. Jacob Jarrow. 
 
 ;i Can't be very awkward to get on with,'' 
 muttered Maurice to himself. u A gentleman 
 with such an appetite for flattery is always 
 to be kept in good humour. A dexterous 
 allusion to the Verity Letters will, no 
 doubt, always keep the pompous old hum- 
 bug in an amiable frame of mind. One 
 drawback — I shall really have to plod 
 through those two awful volumes at once.
 
 TUNNLETON. 83 
 
 I think, for our own comfort, it would be as 
 well that Bessie knew a good deal about 
 them too." 
 
 Mr. Maurice Enderby was a shrewdish man 
 of the world, and, albeit not cynical, had 
 rather a quick eye for the weaknesses of his 
 fellow- creatures. It must not be thought that 
 he was given to practise on them, but he could 
 not help seeing th eir foibles, and did sometimes, 
 in a social point of view, avail himself of this 
 insight to make himself pleasant to his ac- 
 quaintance. I don't know that there is very 
 much harm in this. Upon the whole the world 
 would perhaps be pleasanter if there were 
 more people of the Maurice Enderby type 
 about it. 
 
 Yes, he thought he would write to the 
 
 Reverend Jacob Jarrow a letter of half 
 
 acceptance of his proposition. It was not 
 
 necessary to be quite conclusive to begin 
 g2
 
 84 A FALSE START. 
 
 with, and then he thought it would be 
 advisable — that letter despatched — to run 
 down quietly to Tunnleton, and talk the 
 matter over with his old friend Frank 
 Chylton. 
 
 The young banker was a bit his senior, 
 but still they had been friends as boys, and 
 Frank certainly could tell him all about 
 Tunnleton and its inhabitants, could give 
 him indeed a rough graphic sketch of the 
 society he was coming amongst : a social 
 chart that would not only be invaluable if 
 he did accept Mr. Jarrow's offer, but would 
 also go far to determine him on the subject. 
 It behoved Mr. Enderby to lose no time in 
 taking action on the subject of employment. 
 He threw two letters into the post that 
 night ; the one, while half accepting Mr. 
 Jarrow's proposition, required a little fur- 
 ther information before giving a decided 
 answer : the other was to Mr. Chylton, men-
 
 TUNNLETON. 85 
 
 tioning the offer he had received and pro- 
 posing to run down to Tunnleton and talk 
 the thing over with him. Frank, no doubt, 
 could give him some lunch, and he should 
 be able to get back to London in time for 
 dinner. He received his answers by return 
 of post; the rector expressed his pleasure 
 at finding that there was a prospect of Mr. 
 Enderby's taking service under his banner, 
 answered his questions with considerable 
 verbosity, trusted his replies were satis- 
 factory, and wound up by saying that he 
 hoped to see Mr. Enderby at Tunnleton 
 with the New Year. 
 
 Frank Chylton's was the briefest : 
 " Dear Maurice/' he said, 
 
 " Come down and lunch, and I will put 
 you au conrant with c all the ropes.' I only 
 hope to induce you to temporarily settle at 
 Tunnleton. Of course, old man, I can't say 
 I hope to keep you ; we must all wish that
 
 86 A FALSE START. 
 
 you will fall in for something better than old 
 Jarrow's curacy ere long, hut it may do as a 
 stop-gap. The Reverend Jacob told me in 
 the strictest confidence that he intended to 
 make you this offer, three or four days ago. 
 And as you now, in the strictest confidence, 
 tell me that he has made it, I suppose I 
 ought to proclaim it openly in the market- 
 place, that being the usual result of all 
 confidential communications at Tunnleton. 
 However come down any way and see me, 
 old man, as soon as you can. I will feed 
 you with the greatest possible pleasure, and 
 give you all the information about the place 
 you can require. I am a native, and know 
 Tunnleton thoroughly, and regret to say 
 take a very much lower estimate of Tunnle- 
 ton than Tunnleton takes of itself.'* 
 
 When Maurice had finished this letter, he 
 threw it over to his wife. 
 
 " There, Bessie," he said, " I think that
 
 TUNNLETON. 87 
 
 sounds promising to start with, but there can 
 be no doubt that I had better run down for 
 the day, and talk the business over with 
 Frank Chylton. It's high time I got some- 
 thing to do, and this, really, is so very much 
 better than anything that has been offered me 
 as yet." And so Maurice, having scribbled 
 a line to warn his friend that he was coming, 
 put himself into the train next day, and ran 
 down to hear what Frank Chylton might 
 have to say on the subject of social life at 
 Tunnleton. 
 
 Frank Chylton met him at the station 5 
 and, after shaking him cordially by the 
 hand, hurried him off at once to be introduced 
 to Mrs. Chylton. 
 
 Seen through the medium of Frank Chyl- 
 ton' s home it was not to be wondered at that 
 Maurice took a roseate view of Tunnleton. 
 Frank had not only a pretty house but a 
 very bright, pretty, young wife, who wel-
 
 88 A FALSE START. 
 
 corned her husband's old friend with hearty 
 cordiality. It was very possible, after par- 
 taking of the good things at Frank Chylton's 
 table and enjoying the good-humoured fun 
 and talk of himself and his wife, to conceive 
 that Tunnleton was an extremely pleasant 
 place. We are all like that : dull-headed in 
 our generation and wont to conceive that, 
 because we have found one country house 
 pleasant, Mudfordshire is the j oiliest county 
 in England ; that because we lost both our 
 
 head and our heart about Miss well, never 
 
 mind her name : perhaps we have forgotten 
 
 it now and she ours at that dreary old 
 
 fishing village of Slocombe Regis that it is 
 a delightful watering-place. 
 
 " Now, Frank/' said the hostess, as she 
 rose at the conclusion of the luncheon, " I 
 shall leave you and Mr. Enderby to talk 
 over Tunnleton. Don't pray let him disen- 
 chant you with it. There is no doubt that
 
 TUNNLETON. 89 
 
 Tunnleton has its weaknesses. It is firmly im- 
 pressed with the idea that it is a leading 
 centre of fashion, and that the verdict of 
 Tunnleton carries weight throughout the 
 country. Don't laugh, Mr. Enderby ; it is a 
 very innocent weakness and really deserves 
 no more than to be smiled at. Besides,'' she 
 concluded, gaily, u you know you're going 
 to be one of us, and the next time I greet 
 you," and as she spoke she extended her 
 hand, " I trust it will be as curate of St. 
 Mary's ; " and Mrs. Chylton, with a bright 
 little nod, took her departure. 
 
 ." Have one of these, Maurice," said Frank, 
 as he threw his cigar case across ; u there's 
 no extra brand about 'em. I didn't pay three 
 pound a pound for them. I can only say 
 they're tolerably smokable. Now I really 
 think you might do worse than accept Jarrow's 
 offer ; you have seen him, and no doubt 
 taken tolerable stock of him. He's a pompous
 
 90 A FALSE START. 
 
 old man, with a very exaggerated idea of 
 his position, both in the clerical and literary 
 world ; but he is a gentleman, and not alto- 
 gether a bad fellow. I should think with a 
 little tact you would have very little trouble in 
 getting on with him, and if you really want 
 an opening it's well worth your consideration ; 
 close to London, and all that, so that you're 
 well in the way of hearing of anything 
 better, and, as for Tunnleton society, I tell you 
 fairly it is peculiar. I don't go much into it 
 myself. I've a small circle of friends here 
 and confine myself to them, as a rule. But 
 my wife is perfectly right : Tunnleton society 
 generally is like the frog in the fable, simply 
 in danger of bursting with a sense of its own 
 importance. 
 
 " We've alittle knot of half-pay generals who 
 know very much more about foreign affairs, 
 military affairs, and political affairs, than the 
 ministry or the War Office. We have also
 
 TUNNLETON. 91 
 
 got a pleasant little knot of retired Indians 
 addicted to biliousness, highly spiced dishes, 
 and incessant perturbation about the Afghan 
 frontier. A few more idlers, whose princi- 
 pal business is gossip — well, I suppose some 
 people would call it talking scandal — tobacco, 
 and billiards. There you are, Maurice ; if 
 you come here you're certain of one thing, 
 you will be talked about. There is no place 
 in which a man who has done nothing can 
 make so sure of that, still, as I said before, 
 old fellow, I think it ought to suit you. If 
 it is rather a humdrum place, it is healthy, 
 and the country around is lovely. As far as 
 the shops go they really are good, all the 
 necessaries of life are easily to be obtained 
 in Tunnleton. My advice to you is simply, 
 try it. You are at all events well 
 in the way of looking out for something 
 better." 
 
 Maurice puffed silently at his cigar for
 
 92 A FALSE START. 
 
 some two or three minutes, and then uttered 
 sententiously the single word 
 
 " Lodgings." 
 
 " Both plentiful and good, and at all 
 23rices. You could, if you like it better, 
 take a small furnished house upon reason- 
 able terms. You will find no difficulties on 
 that point if \ou make up your mind to 
 accept Jarrow's offer." 
 
 " Yes, I think I might do worse. I 
 haven't time to go and see him to- day , but 
 I'll write him a line to-night, and propose 
 coming down to talk matters over to- 
 morrow." " Halloa ! " exclaimed Maurice, as 
 his eye fell upon the clock, " my time is up ; 
 I'll just look into the drawing room and 
 say good-bye to Mrs. Chylton, and then I 
 must wend my way to the station. " 
 
 " I'll walk down with you," said Frank, 
 " it is all on my way back to business. You
 
 TUNNLETON. 93 
 
 must be brief in your adieu to Laura, as 
 we have not much time to spare." 
 
 A hasty shake of the hand with Mrs. 
 Chylton, and then Frank and Enderby 
 made their very best pace to the station. 
 
 " Good-bye, old fellow/' said the young 
 banker, as his friend jumped into the train, 
 " I look upon you as one of us now. Bound 
 to remind us once a week of the error of 
 our ways, and to be socially the good fellow 
 you always were. Nobody will be more 
 pleased to see you here than I," and with 
 a hearty hand-grip the two men parted.
 
 94 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 
 
 That the Reverend Jacob Jarrow considered 
 himself a leading star in Tunnleton society- 
 it is needless to say ; but no sky is known 
 which is not illuminated by more than one 
 planet. If the Reverend Jarrow, Rural 
 Dean, Rector of St. Mary's, &c, &c, was a 
 great ecclesiastical fact, in Tunnleton society 
 there were other social stars who arrogated 
 to the themselves quite as important a 
 position. General Maddox for instance,
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 95 
 
 chief of that little knot of retired officers 
 congregated at Tunnleton, a leading member 
 of the Tunnleton Club, and whom, from the 
 possession of a deliberate drawl and didactic 
 manner of speaking, had gradually bored 
 Tunnleton into the belief that he was a man 
 of profound information, constantly disputed 
 this position with Mr. Jarrow. 
 
 The general's military career had been 
 chiefly conducted from an office-stool ; he 
 had indicted despatches from a desk; he had 
 acquired, as men often have done, consider- 
 able renown from that position, and on the 
 one occasion on which he had embarked 
 on active service he had not altogether 
 distinguished himself. His enemies said 
 coarsely, that "He made a devil of a mess of 
 that Barrapootah business." There could be 
 no doubt it was not a success, but we smooth 
 these things over pleasantly for some of our 
 heroes ; and promotion and a C.B. had been
 
 96 A FALSE START. 
 
 the outcome of what Bill Maddox's detrac- 
 tors alluded to as " a thundering good lick- 
 ing." 
 
 It would be difficult to persuade a member 
 of Parliament that he was not fit for the 
 part of prime minister. It is hard to per- 
 suade a man that he cannot ride. All men 
 and women firmly believe they can write a 
 novel, if they take the trouble. A great 
 many men are firmly convinced they can 
 write a play, and no actor ever walked the 
 boards but was solemnly impressed with the 
 belief that he could act Hamlet. 
 
 Perhaps it is as well in the days of our 
 youth ; confidence in our own powers is a 
 mighty stimulus. It is very much better 
 than that lack of nerve and belief in them- 
 selves which, singular to say, have character- 
 ised so many great geniuses. But General 
 Maddox, his opportunities over and turned 
 of sixty, ought surely to have known that
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 97 
 
 he had failed to make his mark in this 
 world. Not a bit of it ! That grand old 
 warrior walked down to the Tunnleton Club 
 morning after morning, and fumed and 
 fretted, and fidgeted and moved the pins 
 stuck into the war-map, and pointed out, 
 " Begad, sir, absurd mistakes that fellow's 
 making in .... " Afghanistan or Africa, 
 or wherever our particular little fight might 
 at that time be going on, and laid down 
 the law as if he were a Wellington, or a 
 Napoleon, or a Frederick the Great, or the 
 whole three rolled into one; and they 
 believed him — the public always do. It is 
 by no means the men who get the loaves 
 and fishes that do the real work, and I 
 fancy the recompense of our heroes of old 
 would be something like a florin in the 
 pound compared with what some of our 
 later generals have succeeded in wringing 
 from their hardly-taxed country. 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 98 A FALSE START. 
 
 General Maddox was emphatically a big 
 man in Tunnleton. He was possessed of 
 one of those slow, sonorous, measured 
 monotonous voices that from their steady 
 persistency wear down the most irascible 
 and energetic of speakers. We all know 
 what the fiery and irritable man is when 
 opposed to dull, phlegmatic obstinacy. He 
 is invariably worsted ; you might flare up, 
 blaze up like half a dozen volcanoes round 
 General Maddox's impassive head, only to 
 be met by that quiet, measured, maddening 
 monotone. What use was the irritable man 
 against this ? It was the angry waves of 
 the iEgean lashing Salamis, and of course 
 the dull, impassioned rock got the better 
 of the breakers of the tideless sea. 
 
 Now between the Reverend Jacob Jarrow 
 and General Maddox there existed what 
 might be termed an armed neutrality. There 
 cannot be two kings, except in Brentford,
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 99 
 
 though even concerning that dual sove- 
 reignty the legend is wondrously mythical- 
 Now both the priest and soldier aspired to 
 the kingdom of Tunnleton, and, though 
 they were both no doubt people of very 
 considerable weight in the place, it could 
 hardly be said that either of them could 
 positively claim the sovereignty — take one 
 out of the way and either might have fairly 
 gripped the sceptre. As amongst the blind 
 the one-eyed man is king, so, lacking op- 
 position, the Reverend Jacob Jarrow or 
 General Maddox might have seated himself 
 on the throne without opposition : but as it 
 was it was a species of dual government. 
 Tunnleton indeed might oe described as 
 under the control of a rule analogous to 
 that so beautifully described in the legend : 
 
 " The prince bishop muttered a curse and a prayer 
 Which his double capacity hit to a nicety ; 
 His cleric or lay half induced him to swear, 
 
 While his episcopal moiety murmured Benedicite." 
 H 2
 
 100 A FALSE START. 
 
 Yes, Tunnleton could say with justice, 
 that, if the Beverend Mr. Jarrow preached 
 to them, General Maddox swore a good deal 
 at them. That distinguished warrior, if 
 slow and deliberate in his utterances, could 
 garnish them with a strong expletive or two 
 on occasion, and with that splendid idea of 
 the political situation of the country, so 
 aptly conveyed in Mr. Grain's song, 
 
 "That the country was going to — he didn't know where; 
 But he felt that 'twas going though he didn't know when ; 
 But it was; and he didn't know why." 
 
 was wont to give the Tunnleton Club the 
 benefit of his extremely orthodox opinions in 
 somewhat unmeasured language. That the 
 service was going to the devil, in General 
 Maddox's eyes, was a matter of course. No- 
 body ever met a retired general officer who 
 ever took any different view of it. It is 
 always the same thing : the veterans of the 
 Peninsula no doubt had that opinion of their
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 101 
 
 successors, and the Crimean men, in their 
 turn, hold a similar opinion of those who have 
 followed them — Laudator tempores acti. 
 
 It is always the same. Oratory died with 
 Pitt, Sheridan, and Burke; acting with 
 Kean, Kemble, and Macready. Still we 
 rub along, and, as far as Parliament goes, 
 can fairly say we may not talk so well, but 
 by the Lord we talk more. 
 
 As may be naturally supposed, the rector 
 and the general were, as a rule, antagonistic. 
 They might combine upon occasion, but for 
 the most part it was quite natural for 
 General Maddox to feel that it behoved him 
 to oppose either scheme or protege of the 
 Reverend Mr. Jarrow's. Just now he really 
 had his bristles very much up in opposition. 
 
 Mr. Lomax had been a considerable 
 favourite of Mrs. Maddox, had piped feeble 
 senseless little ballads in a feeble, tuneless 
 little voice at Mrs. Maddox's dreary little
 
 102 A FALSE STAET. 
 
 teas. He had played lawn tennis and dis- 
 pensed muffins with an alacrity worthy of a 
 higher cause. These, poor young man, were 
 the germs of his popularity ; but there was 
 no getting over the case, he was popular, 
 and when you knock a popular favourite off 
 his pedestal you have to reckon with popular 
 ojDinion about the doing of it. It may very 
 easily be conceived, therefore, that General 
 Maddox took up the cudgels in behalf of the 
 discarded curate pretty strongly. He had 
 no cause, no reason to do so. Mr. Lomax 
 made no complaint of any kind against his 
 rector, and when he alluded to the rupture 
 of his engagement merely sjDoke of it as 
 something that had come to a conclusion in 
 the ordinary course of things. But it w^as 
 hardly to be supposed that General Maddox 
 was going to pass an affair of this kind over 
 as lightly as that. If a leading denizen of 
 Tunnleton had ventured to discharge either
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 103 
 
 a cook or a butler the general would have 
 had his say on the subject. But Mr. Lomax 
 was a leading fact in Tunnleton, a fashion- 
 able young clergyman who filled St. Mary's 
 every Sunday afternoon. Why Mr. Jarrow 
 should break with him was a thing not easy 
 to understand. 
 
 "It is absurd, my dear," said the general 
 one morning; " I don't know his name, but 
 I hear Jarrow has already engaged a mar- 
 ried man in the place of young Lomax. We 
 know what that means — a poor, needy man 
 who is socially no use whatever. A young 
 woman, overflowing with children, and to- 
 wards whose impoverished circumstances we 
 are all delicately requested to minister. I 
 know what it means," continued the pomp- 
 ous old officer, as he stroked his white 
 moustache; " we shall be all expected to 
 send them turkeys, sausages, port wine, &c. 
 You know, my dear, the utterly impecunious
 
 104 A FALSE START. 
 
 man of that class who takes his place 
 amongst us. We can't do what we gladly 
 would do if we like him, double his salary 
 and have done with it. There is always an 
 undefined and indirect tax imposed upon us. 
 Somebody is always elevating his eye- 
 brows because you have not ministered to 
 poor Mrs. So-and-So ? s necessities. You have 
 to call, and see a dirty-faced drab of a 
 servant-girl's hands coming off black upon 
 your cards as you give them to her. A 
 couple of children screaming up the stair- 
 case, and not a reliable chair to sit upon, 
 even if it is your good, or rather perhaps 
 evil, fortune to get in. No, no ; what we 
 require are unmarried curates, who can play 
 lawn-tennis and dance with the girls, and 
 afford a distant prospect of matrimony in the 
 back-ground." 
 
 The general was not altogether a bad sort 
 of man, but he still laboured under his old
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 105 
 
 military instincts, and could not quite divest 
 himself of the idea that he was General- 
 commanding in Tunnleton. He could do a 
 kindly action, and was a free-handed man, 
 but it must be in his own pompous despotic 
 fashion. It is probable that two more pomp- 
 ous numskulls than the Reverend Jacob 
 Jarrow and General Maddox were never 
 leading lights in a community. 
 
 " I am sure, my dear," interposed Mrs. 
 Maddox, li that nobody can be more sorry 
 to lose Mr. Lomax than I am ; but all you 
 say don't quite follow surely. The new 
 man may be married, but it does not quite 
 follow that he has a large family, and is 
 in such a state of pauperism as you have 
 so graphically depicted." 
 
 si Pooh! don't tell me! Curates who 
 marry are like subalterns ; they invariably 
 have a large family and nothing to feed 
 them on. When I married you, Mrs.
 
 106 A FALSE START. 
 
 Maddox, I was on the verge of being made 
 a field-officer. And a curate has no more 
 business to marry than commit any other 
 crime, unless he sees his rectory at the end 
 of the twelvemonth. Young Lomax suited 
 us very well, and what the deuce made that 
 obstinate old fool Jarrow part with him I 
 can't say ! I shall give him a little bit of 
 my mind about it as soon as we meet." 
 
 But General Maddox knew very well in 
 his heart that that was sheer empty vapour- 
 ing. He was quite aware that the rector 
 stood no interference with his own affairs, 
 and this matter of a change of curate was 
 a thing most distinctly that could concern 
 nobody but himself and the gentleman who 
 was going to leave him. If Mr. Lomax had 
 no cause of complaint — nothing that he at 
 all events cared to appeal to public opinion 
 about — then it most decidedly was no busi- 
 ness of any one in Tunnleton. The general
 
 A LEADING CITIZEN. 107 
 
 and the rector had been at loggerheads too 
 often not to thoroughly gauge each other's 
 character, and General Maddox knew very 
 well that, whether wrong or whether right, 
 Mr. Jarrow was not the man to stand being 
 called to account about a private matter of 
 this description. 
 
 However, the general put on the rather 
 curly-brimmed hat that he usually affected, 
 slipped into his overcoat, drew on his dog- 
 skin gloves, and, taking his Malacca cane 
 in his hand, marched with a dignified gait 
 down to the Tunnleton Club. He had 
 digested the leaders in The Times, and it- 
 behoved him to acquaint the members of 
 that community what he thought of the 
 situation of the country. The General's 
 u By Jupiter!" or " By Jove, sir ! " boomed 
 forth in sonorous drawl, were deemed 
 oracular in the morning-room of that little 
 establishment ; and when he twirled his
 
 108 A FALSE START. 
 
 moustache and exclaimed with unctuous 
 emphasis, ei If this rush of Radicalism is not 
 put down with a strong hand, by Jove, sir, 
 there will be an end to the monarchy, to 
 the House of Lords, and the Established 
 Church" the members shook their heads 
 solemnly.
 
 109 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 
 
 Bessie Enderby was simply delighted when 
 she heard that her husband had got this 
 engagement at Tunnleton. She was a 
 sensible young woman, and knew very well 
 that it was perfectly imperative that Maurice 
 should obtain something to do at once. 
 She was accustomed to manage with narrow 
 means, and, though she had no accurate 
 knowledge of her husband's income, was 
 quite aware that it was very limited. Not
 
 110 A FALSE START. 
 
 the girl at all to flinch from this, Bessie 
 Enderby could make bread and cheese go 
 as far as anybody, by the aid of a bright 
 smile and a clean tablecloth ; but the girl 
 promised to become a mother, and women 
 in that state get anxious about their nests, 
 as the birds do. She had hardly as yet, 
 not even Maurice himself, grasped the very 
 critical position in which they were placed ; 
 men never do realise, until the screw is 
 turned on them with steady but relentless 
 power, the reality of being deeply in debt. 
 
 The plunging into it is so easy, and, when 
 the time comes that creditors demand in 
 stern inexorable language their just dues, 
 the luckless delinquents are paralysed and 
 astounded, and, as the poet says : 
 
 " Sorrows come not as single files, but in battalions." 
 
 If this is true of sorrows, it is painfully 
 more so of creditors; on the heels of the
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 111 
 
 baker come the butcher and the bootmaker. 
 The first peremptory dun is but the prelude 
 to the coming storm, and then comes the 
 tornado of summonses, writs, and the deluge. 
 Maurice Enderby was wilfully shutting his 
 eyes to these facts, although perfectly cogni- 
 sant of them ; as for his wife, she had a sort 
 of misty apprehension that something of this 
 kind might possibly happen. But she did 
 not, of course, know the extent of his 
 liabilities, and was quite sure that since she 
 had been at the helm of his affairs he had 
 at all events incurred no debts. 
 
 But who can gauge the extent of a man's 
 liabilities, or foretell what critical times may 
 bring to him ? Have we not all seen years like 
 '66, in which banks and large business houses 
 lay prostrate in the dust as the walls of 
 Jericho ? The blare of the trumpets that 
 prostrated the walls of the great city was 
 not more fatal than the whisper of suspicion
 
 112 A FALSE START. 
 
 as regards the financial stability of the large 
 business houses. These years of storm and 
 impecuniosity come round periodically, and 
 then comes a struggle for existence. The 
 luckless creditor can no longer show mercy. 
 Like the shipwrecked mariner, he becomes 
 relentless in his demands for the necessaries 
 of life — meaning in his case money — to 
 avoid the bankruptcy which has over- 
 whelmed so many of his brethren. Stormy 
 times these financial crises ! fatal alike to 
 peer and peasant ! Never make the mistake 
 of believing that when the great landowners 
 or the great manufacturers are suffering 
 from one of these depressions, as constant 
 in the prosperity of a country as they- are 
 in the reading of the barometer, it does 
 not extend to the lower classes. When the 
 money-makers have little to spend, it is 
 bad for those who have to work for their 
 money. A political agitator, whose pro-
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 113 
 
 fession it is to live on the credulity of his 
 fellows, steps in and makes capital of such 
 a strained situation. 
 
 Bah ! it should be patent to the most 
 ordinary intelligence, that, when the big 
 employer of labour is harassed for money, 
 his employes' wages are likely to shorten, 
 and their number bd reduced both in mill 
 and factory. The less money that is made, 
 the less there is to be spent, as the trades- 
 people in the agricultural districts have 
 learned to their bitter cost of late years. 
 Prosperous men who years ago ate venison 
 and pheasants are now contented with beans 
 and bacon, and the land goes out of culti- 
 vation. 
 
 There was much difference in the way 
 Maurice Enderby and his wife regarded 
 their new position. Maurice, sanguine, full 
 of health and energy, saw nothing but a 
 prosperous start before him, but Bessie knew 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 A FALSE START. 
 
 better ; already her mind was harassed with 
 the subject of ways and means. She under- 
 stood much better than her husband what 
 settling in a new home meant. She com- 
 prehended in a way past his understanding 
 what hard work it was to make the house- 
 keeping money do, living quietly as they 
 did now, and in the position he was about to 
 assume at Tunnleton it would be, of course, 
 requisite to live in a certain fashion, and she 
 felt that it required all her management to 
 do things in the way Maurice liked, and pre- 
 serve a decent front before the world. Still 
 the girl knew it was no use flinching the 
 situation. If not Tunnleton it must be 
 somewhere else, if Maurice was ever to get 
 on in his profession it was time to begin. 
 You cannot, in these times at all events, 
 become a bishop without being a curate. 
 Thomas a'Becket, it is true, arrived at the 
 dignity of archbishop and also his doom
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 115 
 
 without going through this preliminary, but 
 it is not given to the priests of the nine- 
 teenth century to grasp the higher prizes of 
 the Church without doing their work in the 
 lower grades. A good way off even a living 
 at the present moment was Maurice Enderby, 
 and virulent Mr. Badger perpetually jogging 
 his elbow about that little unpaid account 
 for hacks and hunters. 
 
 Little account ! It is always playfully 
 called so, although perhaps every shilling 
 the luckless debtor has in the world would 
 not suffice to meet it. 
 
 And so it came to pass that everything was 
 settled between the Reverend. Jacob Jarrow 
 and Maurice Enderby, and amidst a halo of 
 sighs and meek lamentations Mr. Lorn ax de- 
 parted from Tunnleton, and the new curate 
 reigned in his stead. The advent of the 
 Reverend Maurice Enderby immediately 
 gave rise to that tremendous question that
 
 116 A FALSE START. 
 
 invariably ruffles the surface of the stagnant 
 pool that constitutes provincial existence 
 when a strange tadpole appears amidst its 
 unruffled waters. Are we to call? Shall 
 we call ? Who has called ? Who are they ? 
 And , as may be naturally surmised, these 
 were points upon which General Maddox 
 had much to say — as to who General Mad- 
 dox was himself that was involved in the 
 darkest obscurity. About his family nobody 
 knew anything. His career was patent to 
 every one. He had begun life in the Com- 
 pany's service, and worked his way up to 
 his present position not by distinguishing 
 himself in any way but simply by persist- 
 ently hanging on. He had married a 
 woman with some money, and that had 
 helped him on not a little, as money always 
 does help a man on in any vocation. There 
 are probably people innocent enough to 
 believe that the old East India Company's
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 117 
 
 service was non-purchase. But the initiated 
 know that in its own way money passed just 
 as freely as it did in the Queen's. Now the 
 general had a strong idea that he was one of 
 the safeguards of Tunnleton society. As 
 before said, he by no means approved of the 
 Eeverend Jacob Jarrow. He had not much 
 to say against him, but Mr. Jarrow was too 
 self-assertive to suit the general. He pre- 
 sumed to have his own opinion and take up 
 his own line of conduct, and this alone 
 caused General Maddox invariably to differ 
 with the rector of St. Mary's. It was not 
 the thing or the idea so much, but if Mr. 
 Jarrow had started a fancy fair, a school- 
 feast, or what you will, it was quite enough 
 to exasperate the veteran. It was the 
 old story, both liked to be king of the 
 community they lived in ; and, when two 
 men hunger for the social sceptre, we all 
 know what comes of it. Bitter jealousy of
 
 118 A FALSE START. 
 
 each other's proceedings, and what the one 
 calls black the other vows to be white, and 
 each angrily demands that his friends should 
 take his view of the question, and, as is the 
 case with weak-minded vacillating humanity, 
 they usually do so. But people who really 
 form their own opinion are so very limited 
 in this world, it is small wonder the general 
 and the priest had upon more than one 
 occasion divided the community into hostile 
 camps. 
 
 Neither Maurice nor his wife had ever 
 troubled their heads about any question of 
 this sort. And they settled down in the 
 small house that Maurice had selected with 
 considerably more anxiety about ways and 
 means than as to whether people would 
 take notice of them or not. It would have 
 amused Maurice immensely if he had known 
 that it was matter of much discussion 
 among the magnates of Tunnleton as to
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? " 119 
 
 whether he was to be taken up or not. 
 Tunnleton was to him a mere stepping- 
 stone in the ladder of life. He had no 
 intention of staying there, nor did he look 
 forward to finding the drowsy old place 
 particularly amusing. It was simply em- 
 ployment till something better might turn 
 up. Maurice Enderby must not be con- 
 temned for taking such a prosaic view of 
 his calling. He was quite prepared to do 
 his duty thoroughly and honestly in the 
 life he had chosen, but a man, more 
 especially with any one dependent upon 
 him, cannot help putting the necessaries of 
 life prominently in the foreground in his 
 view of anything. Fanatics and prophets 
 of course cast all this to the winds, but 
 poor Maurice was only an ordinary clergy- 
 man, wishing to do his duty honestly to 
 his flock, and at the same time to take care 
 of his wife and that little addition to the
 
 120 A FALSE START. 
 
 family with which he was threatened. It 
 was all very well for Mahomet to depart 
 to the desert and live a bare and ascetic 
 existence ; but he made himself tolerably 
 fair compensation for those dolorous days, 
 if he only lived up to the precepts he laid 
 down to his followers. If he preached a 
 religion of fire and sword it can hardly be 
 said that he held out a future of much 
 asceticism to those who embraced his tenets. 
 
 H Four teas this afternoon, I declare," 
 exclaimed General Maddox, u and yet there 
 are people who will have it that Tunnleton 
 is dull. I don't know what they would 
 have. Now, my dear, we've got to con- 
 sider what we are to do about these new 
 proteges of Jarrow's. Tunnleton will look 
 to us for guidance in this matter. Of course 
 if we take them up all Tunnleton will take 
 them up too." 
 
 ei Well, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Maddox,
 
 " SHALL WE CALL ? '' 121 
 
 "I think in his position as a clergyman of 
 the Church of England we must call on 
 Mr. Enderby and his wife." 
 
 " I don't know," answered the general, 
 as he caressed his moustache. "Ever since 
 Jarrow made a fool of himself in the local 
 journals by those Verity Letters he has 
 considered himself one of the shining lights 
 of literature, and is apt to take up with 
 any one who has ever done a bit of scrib- 
 bling. Dash it all now, I used to write 
 to the papers myself when I was in India. 
 They didn't always put it in, but they did 
 sometimes, and I never gave myself the 
 airs about it that Jarrow does." 
 
 " Well, he brings this young man here 
 as curate, and that I suppose of itself is 
 sufficient guarantee that they are people to 
 be called upon." 
 
 "Oh! I don't know at all. We shall 
 see. Remember, Emily, I don't want you
 
 122 A FALSE STAET. 
 
 to be in a hurry about committing yourself. 
 Now, I'm off to the club to look at the 
 papers, and see what's doing." 
 
 Rather a bootless errand this last, as there 
 never was anything doing in Tunnleton, 
 except in the eyes of its infatuated inha- 
 bitants.
 
 123 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 
 
 Only some six or seven miles from Tumile- 
 ton, and connected with it by rail, stood 
 the thriving go-a-head little town of Bul- 
 sted. It was a contrast to its neighbour, 
 insomuch that it neither affected fashion 
 nor gave itself the airs of Tunnleton ; but 
 then, on the other hand, it went in a great 
 deal more for the fun of existence than the 
 more fashionable place. The Bulsted people 
 were, for the most part, engaged in business
 
 124 A FALSE START. 
 
 of some sort or another. They worked 
 hard, turned their money quickly, and spent 
 it freely. They laughed at Tunnleton and 
 its affected grandeur, and enjoyed them- 
 selves thoroughly in their own way with 
 no atom of pretence about it. They danced, 
 dined, or snatched a day for a gallop with 
 the harriers in the season as they best could. 
 It need scarcely be remarked that a little 
 town with all these sporting attributes had 
 its race-meeting. The Bulsted races, if 
 they had no extended reputation, were very 
 popular in the county. The magnates in 
 the vicinity usually filled their houses for 
 the meeting. The leading people in the 
 town did the same. There was always a 
 good deal of lunching, a considerable amount 
 of good fellowship, and very decent sport 
 to be seen in the two days' racing that took 
 place in the early spring. It consisted 
 chiefly of cross-country events, although it
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 125 
 
 boasted a flat race-course as well. You 
 might not see there the great equine ce- 
 lebrities of the year, but the Open Chase, the 
 Hunt Steeple-chase, and the Grone-away 
 Plate always evoked much local enthusiasm. 
 
 Standing somewhere about half-way be- 
 tween Tunnleton and Bulsted was Bridge 
 Court, a grand old country house, whose 
 quaint gables dated from the days of Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 Sir John Balders was the very type of a 
 jovial fox-hunting squire. In his youth he 
 had been looked upon as a fairish man in 
 the shires ; but free living and increasing 
 years had told their tale ; neither Sir John's 
 nerve nor weight admitted of his attempting 
 to ride to hounds now. But, on a stout cob, 
 he enjoyed meeting his friends at the cover- 
 side as much as in days of yore. There, 
 with a big cigar, a good story or two, and a 
 kindly word and jest for every one, Sir
 
 126 A FALSE START. 
 
 John was quite in his element ; the most 
 popular man in the hunt. If they found 
 and really went away, the baronet jogged 
 placidly home to luncheon; otherwise he 
 would trot about, gossiping with his old 
 friends, and smoking incessantly half the 
 day. He had never been a racing man, 
 insomuch as he had never kept racehorses, 
 or indulged in any gambling over them ; 
 but he had been very fond of Epsom, Ascot, 
 and Newmarket, in his day, limiting himself 
 to an occasional wager on his fancy, but 
 thoroughly enjoying a good race, and de- 
 lighting to see a good horse win without its 
 benefiting him a shilling. It was not likely 
 that Sir John would neglect to fill his house 
 for the Bulsted races, and amongst his guests 
 this particular year happened to be Bob 
 Grafton. 
 
 Grafton's father had been an old friend of 
 Sir John's, and Bob had known the baronet
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 127 
 
 from his schoolboy days ; had indeed stayed 
 at Bridge Court many a time before. 
 
 About this particular Spring Bulsted Meet- 
 ing it is not necessary to say much. It went 
 off with its usual eclat, and it occurred to 
 some two or three of Sir John's guests, who 
 had lingered on for an extra day or two, 
 that the best thing they could do to get 
 through a keen bright March afternoon was 
 to take a stretch into Tunnleton, and amongst 
 the party was Bob Grafton. That gentle- 
 man had heard no more of Maurice Enderby 
 since he had parted with him at Scarborough. 
 He had often wondered what had become of 
 his old friend, and how he and his pretty 
 little wife were getting on ; but men drift 
 apart in this world, and unless they belong 
 to the same clubs, or happen to mix in the 
 same set, lose sight of each other for in- 
 definite periods. He little thought, when 
 lie started with two or three other men, and
 
 128 A FALSE START. 
 
 Katie and Florence Balders, for that walk 
 to Tunnleton, that he should meet the very 
 man of whom he had so often thought of 
 late, and the very strange question that man 
 was to put to him. 
 
 A good bitter nor'easter, characteristic of 
 the unpleasantest month in the year ; a wind 
 that brought colour to the girls' noses, and 
 tears to their eyes, irritation to the men's 
 throats, and a general perversity all round ; 
 that delightfully disgusting wind concerning 
 which Kingsley penned his terribly sarcastic 
 satire ; about which nothing can be relied 
 upon, except that it does 
 
 " Madden into hunger every angry pike ; " 
 
 pikes of the betting-ring, too, about this 
 time more voracious than ever — a dead 
 season just over, during which the miserable 
 backer had ceased to dangle in sight of 
 their insatiate maw. Whistling round the 
 corners ; whistling through the windows ;
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 129 
 
 sending the smoke back again clown the 
 chimneys, in manner most irreverent and 
 disgusting ; spinning the chimney-cowls 
 round and round, as if in ironical derision 
 of any such imbecile attempt to control its 
 vagaries, taking them off at times, as it did 
 the hats of the passers-by. 
 
 With shrill shrieks of boisterous laughter 
 at all endeavours to control or play with it, 
 screaming wildly in the midnight, and smil- 
 ing out in the moontide sun ; with an affec- 
 tation of being in the opposite quarter, this 
 dreadful old foe of humanity was frolicking 
 about in all the March exuberance of his 
 ironical nature, as Bob Grafton and his 
 companions doggedly drove their ways 
 through his teeth into Tunnleton. 
 
 " Beastly day, Miss Balders," exclaimed 
 Grafton, as they turned into the queer com- 
 paratively sheltered Tunnleton promenade. 
 fc( All deuced fine, you know ! but a fellow 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A FALSE START. 
 
 feels quite relieved to find his front teeth 
 left in his head after such a terrible spin as 
 we have had." 
 
 "Yes, it is not nice," rejoined Katie 
 Balders, "and I am not at all sorry the 
 hounds met the other side of the county 
 this morning. No doubt you do at times 
 get a rattling run in this sort of weather, 
 but it is very unpleasant to hang about in ; 
 and you do that much more often than not. 
 Of course, the weather don't matter when 
 you are going, but it makes a considerable 
 difference when you are loitering round 
 the cover-side." 
 
 " Of course it does," rejoined Grafton, 
 " all poets are frauds; which means they 
 claim poetical licence — that is, the right to 
 treat any subject from their own point 
 of view ; generally being what suits their 
 lines. There's Kingsley, for instance, should 
 have written —
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 131 
 
 ' Bitter black north-easter, 
 Jove ! ain't yon a twister ? ' ' 
 
 but then, you see, he's a poet, and has 
 to conform to the rules of his fraudulent 
 craft." 
 
 " Twister and easter are all very well, and 
 very expressive ; but there's no doubt, criti- 
 cally speaking, they don't exactly rhyme." 
 
 " However, hang the nor'easter ! Shel- 
 tered here by the shops on both sides, and 
 the old tumble-down houses of the early 
 era of this century, we are quit of the 
 north-east wind for a little. But, good 
 heavens ! Maurice Enderby, as I live ! 
 You must excuse me for a moment ; he's 
 one of my oldest pals; and talk to him, 
 and ask him what he's dome:, I really 
 must." 
 
 And, so saying, Grafton dashed across 
 
 the promenade and put his hand on the 
 
 shoulder of a man who was idly looking 
 k2
 
 132 A FALSE START. 
 
 at some photographs in the library win- 
 dow. 
 
 Maurice started and turned round, and 
 his face lit up when he saw who it was 
 that had accosted him. 
 
 "My dear boy," he exclaimed, u you're 
 just the very man of all others I wished 
 to see. However, first and foremost, how 
 are you ? and what brought you here ? " 
 
 " Bulsted races," rejoined Grafton, "as 
 for how I am, now what is the use of 
 asking. When you see a fellow rollicking 
 about in a bitter nor'easter in March, it's 
 absurd to suppose that there is anything 
 the matter with him. Now it is my turn ; 
 first, how is Mrs. Enderby ? secondly, in 
 the words of the poet : 
 
 ' Why comes he hence, what doth he here ? " 
 
 "Bessie is very well, thanks, while, as 
 for me, I have accepted the post of curate 
 to the Eeverend Mr. Jarrow, Rector of St.
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 133 
 
 Mary's, Tunnleton, and am now duly in- 
 stalled as a subordinate amongst the ecclesi- 
 astical hierarchy of this town. 5 ' 
 
 " Well, old fellow, I suppose I ought to 
 congratulate you ; you were anxious to get 
 something of the sort, and, though it's a 
 dullish little place, it is not an out-of-the- 
 way one." 
 
 " But where are you staying?" inquired 
 Maurice. "I can't give you an elaborate 
 dinner, but if you can be content with a 
 bit of fish, a cut of a joint, and a hearty 
 welcome, we shall be more than glad to see 
 you." 
 
 " Very sorry, indeed, old man, but I 
 can't. A good talk and a smoke with you, 
 and anything you choose to give me to 
 eat, would be quite good enough for this 
 child. But I am staying for the week at 
 Bridge Court; I walked in to-day with a 
 party from there, and must walk out again
 
 134 A FALSE START. 
 
 with them to dinner. But you said I was 
 the very man you wanted to see. What 
 help can I be to you? If it's a question 
 of money, Maurice," he continued, lower- 
 ing his tone, " don't hesitate to speak out. 
 I'll do what I can." 
 
 " No, no, it's nothing of that sort, 
 although I'm not overburdened with coin 
 of the realm. I'm not driven to ask help 
 of my friends so far. I want you to ex- 
 plain to me what is at present an unsolvable 
 conundrum. You are learned in all things 
 racing and I am not. You told me a good 
 deal at Scarborough about my wife's uncle, 
 the Reverend John Madingley. Surely, as 
 a clergyman, he don't keep racehorses ? " 
 
 u Not keep racehorses ! What, Parson 
 Madingley ! Why, bless your soul, Maurice, 
 he's had a few horses in training for the 
 last thirty or forty years. As I told you 
 before, there was a time when he was a
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 135 
 
 great frequenter of the race-course, but he 
 got remonstrated with rather seriously by 
 his bishop, and since that has seldom been 
 seen on one. He was never, for all I've 
 heard, a man who bet or in the least gam- 
 bled about the thing. The few he had 
 were always of his own breeding, and he 
 had them trained, and ran them, from 
 sheer love of sport." 
 
 " But I never remember to have seen 
 his name in the racing returns," said 
 Maurice. 
 
 u No ; of course you wouldn't," returned 
 the other ; " although they were a good 
 deal laxer about those things when he 
 began, still, the Rev. John Madingley's 
 this, that, or the other would not have 
 looked well in the papers. He raced, like 
 many other people, under an assumed name. 
 His horses always ran as Mr. Brooks's. But 
 why are you so curious about his turf
 
 136 A FALSE START. 
 
 career ? It's not much in your line, 
 surely ? " 
 
 " But it so happens just now it is. Don't 
 you remember my telling you that we 
 were rather in hopes of a wedding-present 
 from him ? Well, it has come, and no 
 doubt is a tolerably handsome one ; the 
 only thing is that it has taken a form quite 
 unintelligible to us." 
 
 "Let's hear what it is," replied Grafton; 
 " it is so very possible that what looks like 
 Dutch to you may be A, B, C to me." 
 
 a Well, my wife's uncle writes word to 
 her congratulating her on her marriage, 
 and saying that his wedding-gift to her is 
 this — she is to go halves with him in the 
 most promising yearling he ever had." 
 
 " I tell you what, old man, that's a thing 
 may be worth a good deal of money. The 
 Reverend John knows i a hawk from a 
 hand-saw,' and has turned out a flyer or
 
 BRIDGE COURT. 137 
 
 two from those little paddocks of his in 
 his time, Now what's its name ? Has it 
 got a name or is it not yet christened ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it has got a name It's a 
 filly called ' The Wandering Nun.' " 
 
 " I know ; by the Hermit, out of Rest- 
 less. Why she's talked about as one of 
 the coming cracks of this year. She is 
 alluded to a good deal in racing circles. 
 As you know, all these promising young 
 things are very deceptive. Like the infant 
 phenomenons amongst ourselves, they go 
 wrong in their legs, they go wrong in their 
 temper, and, after all, the one virtue they 
 seem to de^elope turns out to be only a 
 precocity which bitterly disappoints those 
 who believe in it. Still, Maurice, though 
 I recommend you not to be too sanguine, 
 there are plenty of people who would jump 
 at being in your shoes and standing in 
 with the pick of Parson Madingley's basket.
 
 138 A FALSE STAKT. 
 
 And now I must say good-bye ; my party 
 threw out signals last time they passed 
 significant that the blue-peter is at the fore. 
 I suppose anywhere in Tunnleton will find 
 you. Wherever your house may be here 
 they are bound to know at the post-office." 
 
 " 4, Belton Terrace is my address. If 
 anything brings you here again mind you 
 come and look me up. And now, good- 
 bye," and, with a nod and a handgrip, the 
 two men separated.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 
 
 Maurice Enderby as he walked home re- 
 volved in his mind what Bob Grafton had 
 told him. He did not know much about 
 racing, but the merest neophyte could under- 
 stand that to be halves in the winnings of a 
 promising filly might run in time to a con- 
 siderable amount of money. He was quite 
 aware of the home truths that Grafton had 
 set before him ; young stock, for which al- 
 most fabulous prices have been paid con-
 
 140 A FALSE START. 
 
 stantly, never realise the expectations formed 
 about them. This wedding gift of John 
 Madingley's he quite understood might turn 
 out a veritable Dead Sea apple. Sanguine 
 as the Reverend John was about it at present, 
 it might fulfil the destiny of many another 
 high-bred horse, whose original owners 
 dreamed of Derby s, Oaks, and Legers falling 
 to their prowess, but whose humble career 
 terminated in a hansom- cab. One thing 
 flashed across Maurice Enderby. Should he 
 dazzle his wife with a glimpse of the possible 
 El Dorado that lay before them, or adhere 
 to his original opinion that it might by good 
 luck represent two or three hundred pounds, 
 but was much more likely to result in a 
 cheque for thirty or forty ? No ! he thought, 
 I'll say nothing about it ; poor girl ! she is 
 facing our narrow means with the greatest 
 pluck — woman-like she would build a good 
 deal upon this dubious future ; better she
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 141 
 
 should exult in the surprise than suffer the 
 anguish of the disappointment. 
 
 By this time he had arrived at his own 
 door, and, passing upstairs to the drawing- 
 room, said cheerily as he entered it — 
 
 "Now, Bessie, if you have got a cup of 
 tea for me give it to me and tell me what you 
 have been about the whole afternoon." 
 
 "Not very much; General Maddox and 
 his wife called, but, Maurice, I really can- 
 not stand this; the insufferable way in which 
 they patronise me, and the pompous arro- 
 gance with which they promised ' to do their 
 best to make things pleasant for us ' in 
 Tunnleton, are really more than I can put 
 up with. Did General Maddox ever distin- 
 guish himself in any way that entitles him 
 to give himself all these airs ? " 
 
 "Distinguish himself!" said Maurice, 
 " old Maddox did a tranquil round of staff 
 and garrison duty for thirty odd years in the
 
 142 A FALSE START. 
 
 East. He never had but one active com- 
 mand, so I hear ; it wasn't a very big thing, 
 but a precious mess he made of it. One 
 thing is certain, there were neither medals 
 nor C.B.s distributed for his little cam- 
 paign." 
 
 u Then what does he take such very high 
 ground about ? " 
 
 "It's the old story, Bessie ; Maddox, who 
 is nobody, married a woman with a bit of 
 money, and between his own pounds and 
 what she brought him he is now a well-to-do 
 man ; indeed in Tunnleton he passes for more 
 than that, is looked upon as wealthy. You 
 can understand that an Anglo-Indian who 
 has passed his life as a Jack-in-office cannot 
 forego the custom of patronage. Here he is 
 somebody, and aspires to be quite a leading 
 magnate. Like the Tunnleton peojDle ge- 
 nerally, he believes the little place to be one 
 of the world's centre's, and further quite
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 143 
 
 believes that he is one of its dictators. A 
 case of Alcibiades' dog, my dear." 
 
 "I understand. I'm afraid in my capacity 
 of the curate's wife I shall have to be civil, 
 but I don't think I shall ever like either 
 General or Mrs. Maddox," 
 
 " Not the slighest necessity you should ; 
 we must be civil to people who take the 
 trouble to call on us, but there's no necessity 
 for being intimate with them; as far as I 
 have seen there is an amount of decorous 
 dulness pervading the society of this place 
 that must be endured, though it cannot be 
 kicked against." 
 
 • c Ah, well, never mind, Maurice ; society 
 is a very give-and-take game, and I have an 
 idea that without the dull people it wouldn't 
 knead together quite so pleasantly; clever 
 men and women are a little given to want 
 the whole platform to themselves. I once 
 met a man with a great reputation as a
 
 144 A FALSE START. 
 
 conversationalist ; he certainly was very 
 amusing," continued Bessie, laughing; " he 
 told some capital stories, and his remarks 
 were brilliant and witty ; but it was a mono- 
 logue entertainment, very amusing ior once, 
 but it would become a little tiresome on 
 repetition." 
 
 " We must make the best of things for the 
 present ; my intention is to stick to Tunnle- 
 ton till a more favourable ojDportunity offers 
 itself ; if the place is a little dull, it is, at all 
 events, a very fair curacy , and I'm well in 
 the way to hear of anything better. Your 
 uncle and god-father, John Madingley, 
 might perhaps give me a lift. Grafton told 
 me that he was a very well-known man and 
 on intimate terms with all sorts of swells. 
 Your many-acred men and hereditary legis- 
 lators constantly hold lots of Church patron- 
 age at their disposal, and I imagine that your 
 uncle knows plenty of people of that sort."
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 145 
 
 il I'm sure I can't say/' rejoined Bessie ; 
 u I haven't seen liim since I was a little 
 girl, but 1 am aware that he is a very well- 
 known man." 
 
 " Yes ; and, judging from what Grafton 
 told me, an excessively popular one ; he 
 couldn't do much for me just now, but in 
 a short time it might be in his power to do 
 us a good turn." 
 
 By this time Maurice had been duly 
 elected a member of the Tunnleton Club, 
 and at once made the mistake common to 
 most young men, he presumed to have 
 opinions of his own. Prudent young men 
 do not indulge in such luxuries,, and perhaps 
 get on better in consequence ; but the mere 
 fact of his marriage has already shown that 
 Maurice was neither prudent nor calculating. 
 There were a good many retired warriors 
 at the Tunnleton Club, veterans by com- 
 pulsion, playing the role of Cincinnatus, 
 
 vol. I. L
 
 146 A FALSE START. 
 
 embryo leaders of men, whom the present 
 military system had precluded from blossom- 
 ing into Hannibals and Napoleons ; but it 
 was not to be supposed that for one moment 
 caused them to doubt their capabilities upon 
 campaigns in any part of the world ; and 
 these perforce idle warriors laid down the 
 law with much vehemence, not to say 
 violence. 
 
 Now, if there is one thing that the public 
 are, as a rule, ignorant of, it is geography ; 
 we don't usually know much about our 
 own country, but when it comes to foreign 
 climes a man's knowledge is generally 
 limited to such particular places as he has 
 visited. Maurice Enderby had committed 
 the unpardonable mistake of presuming to 
 correct a trifling geographical error of some 
 few thousand miles that two or three of 
 these great authorities had fallen into over 
 one of the numerous out-of-the-way wars
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBEAGE. 147 
 
 that France and ourselves have always on 
 our hands ; as for General Maddox he could 
 scarcely believe his ears ! to be contradicted 
 upon any military point by a civilian was 
 in his eyes a gross impertinence, but, when 
 that civilian was a parson to boot, it seemed 
 almost incredible. From that out General 
 Maddox and his great friend General Praun 
 came to the conclusion that the Reverend 
 Maurice Enderby was a conceited young 
 prig. 
 
 "Wants taking down a peg or two, 
 Praun ; and I'll tell you what," continued 
 General Maddox, speaking in his usual 
 slow, deliberate tones, " I shall do it. 
 I'm not going to be put to rights by a 
 whipper-snapper curate. 
 
 " Most disrespectful a young man like 
 
 that venturing to differ from his seniors ! " 
 
 and, mumbling something about it's being 
 L 2
 
 148 A FALSE START. 
 
 subversive of all order, discipline, and the 
 ties of society, General Praun growled him- 
 self out of the club. 
 
 Much given to taking the chair at all 
 sorts of meetings was General Praun. He 
 dearly loved being in the chair, and no man 
 more delighted in the sound of his own 
 voice ; that was the real secret of his being 
 so continually named as chairman of such 
 meetings, it afforded him the opportunity 
 of firing off a speech or two. He never had 
 much to say, nor did he say it particularly 
 well ; but nothing would ever convince a 
 man with a penchant for speech-making 
 that he was not an orator, so that almost 
 from the very beginning Maurice Enderby 
 had contrived to offend two men who were 
 prominent actors in the social life of Tunnle- 
 ton, however small their position might be 
 in the world generally. A small thing this, 
 but it had a curious effect upon the for-
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 149 
 
 tunes of Maurice Enderby, as the sequel 
 will show. 
 
 Two veiy prominent sections of society 
 at Tunnleton were the clergy and that 
 military hierarchy of which I have already 
 spoken. They may not like each other, 
 in short they very often do not, but still 
 there is a camaraderie about the service 
 which makes them hang* together even 
 after their swords have been hung upon 
 the walls, and their uniforms become the 
 property of the Hebrew. 
 
 Maurice, unluckily for himself, not only 
 continued to frequent the club, but hap- 
 pened to be a Liberal in politics. He more 
 than once took up the cudgels in behalf of 
 that party, and, as he possessed a clear 
 logical mind, more than once left the 
 veterans, whose arguments consisted of 
 mere blatant asseveration, in a quagmire 
 of confusion, reducing them indeed to wrath-
 
 150 A FALSE START. 
 
 ful silence, which relieved itself only by 
 snorts of indignation. These men regarded 
 society pretty much as a garrison, and 
 deemed they were entitled to treat it as 
 despotically as they had been wont to 
 rule their regiments ; old Indians especially 
 are apt to forget they are no longer 
 monarchs of the social jungle, and cannot 
 resist roaring as they were wont to roar, 
 albeit their voice has lost authority. 
 
 It is bitter in the mouth when the man 
 who has been a satrap at Bangalore or 
 Poonah discovers he is a nobody in London ; 
 and it is even worse for his feminine be- 
 longings. I was once made piteous plaint 
 to by a woman on this very subject. Her 
 husband had been Governor in one of 
 our numerous dependencies, but the rule 
 came to an end and his glories departed. 
 
 " It is a cruel change," she said; " last 
 year I drove my own carriage, and was the
 
 THE GENERALS TAKE UMBRAGE. 151 
 
 leading lady in the island, now I go about in 
 hack cabs, and am nobody." 
 
 A tall, good-looking young curate, with 
 radical tendencies, and the audacity to ex- 
 press his opinions, was such an anomaly in 
 Tunnleton that the community stood aghast, 
 but there was no denying that Maurice 
 Enderby buckled down steadily and con- 
 scientiously to his work in the pulpit ; even 
 those most predjudiced against him were 
 fain to confess he was quite the equal of 
 Lomax, and that his discourses had far more 
 stuff in them ; one point, it was true, the 
 feminine part of his congregation still deemed 
 to his detriment — he was married. 
 
 Maurice Enderby was going through a new 
 experience. He was discovering that in the 
 mctlee of life he had exposed himself to his 
 enemies when he took unto himself a wife. 
 But a clever or vindictive man has but to bide 
 his opportunity over such attacks, and remem-
 
 152 A FALSE START. 
 
 ber that it is a simple matter of time to nail 
 his adversaries to the barn-door in their turn 
 as keepers crucify the vermin they destroy. 
 Neither man nor woman ever had a record 
 in which retribution was not practicable, 
 and, though Maurice's profession to a great 
 extent tied his hands, it might not do those 
 of his friends. Bob Grafton, for instance, 
 was likely to be very unscrupulous and ener- 
 getic in reprisal, and with little reverence 
 for generals, senators, or any one else, how- 
 ever distinguished, with the exception of a 
 successful owner of race-horses ; no man 
 more likely to make things unpleasant for 
 the notabilities of Tunnleton all round than 
 Grafton : a shrewd man of the world, with a 
 certain command of money and men.
 
 153 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 TIIE TORKESLYS. 
 
 It was about a fortnight after he had met 
 Bob Grafton that Maurice End or by sat 
 moodily smoking in his little dining-room. 
 The morning had brought a threatening 
 letter from Badger, who menaced all the 
 pains and penalties if not immediately 
 mollified by something on account. Badger's 
 threats if pushed to extremity Maurice knew 
 might utterly ruin him in his profession.
 
 154 A FALSE START. 
 
 The young man was grit to the back- 
 bone — a shrewd clever fellow with plenty 
 of cajDacity for work in him. If he 
 smoked somewhat moodily to - night, it 
 must not be thought that it was the 
 tobacco of despair with which, conjoined 
 with copious draughts of alcohol and 
 water, men stifle unpleasant circumstances. 
 Far from it. He had a very uneasy 
 corner in his life to turn, and he was 
 thinking all he knew how best to compass it. 
 There was no more money to be made as 
 yet in his profession, let him work as hard 
 as he would at it. Do not misunderstand 
 me and think that Maurice Enderby was 
 anything but a thorough, conscientious, hard- 
 working man in his calling, but a clergyman 
 may wish that the loaves and fishes could be 
 multiplied by extra work when he has others 
 depending on him, even when conscien-
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 155 
 
 tiously discharging the duties of his trust. It 
 is a profession, especially in its early stages, 
 at which it is difficult to supplement the 
 work with advantage to oneself. The only 
 groove that occurred to Maurice was litera- 
 ture. Men of his cloth, he knew, had made 
 much money by their pens, not perhaps in 
 the first instance, but who at the bottom of 
 the ladder does ? yet in time their income 
 from literature has far exceeded that from 
 their Church preferment, 
 
 Yes, he would have a shy at that ; there was 
 no reason he should not spoil paper for two or 
 three hours an evening. If nothing came of 
 it, it was preferable to gloomy reflection, and 
 at present he saw nothing better to turn his 
 hand to, and it was part of his creed both as 
 a Christian and a man to take such work as 
 came to him. His rector, too, Mr. Jarrow, 
 could probably be of some use to him in this 
 respect; but in this Maurice showed much
 
 156 A FALSE START. 
 
 worldly innocence. The Reverend Jarrow 
 was a distinguished litterateur only in his 
 own estimation, and that of a limited circle 
 of Tunnleton friends, but the man's over- 
 weening vanity would never permit him to 
 admit that he was not an acknowledged 
 literary star in the metropolis itself, and 
 Maurice, though quite conscious the rector 
 was possessor of no great talent in that re- 
 spect, thought it quite probable that from his 
 clerical position he commanded some in- 
 fluence amongst the more serious magazines. 
 Not the man to undeceive him on that point 
 is the Reverend Jarrow, but likely to foster 
 false hopes and be profuse in his profession 
 of assistance; likely again to be severely 
 critical and disparaging when such manu- 
 script as was entrusted to him was rejected, 
 or fulsomely patronizing should it achieve a 
 success; but all this is mercifully hidden 
 from Maurice's vision as yet as from that of
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 157 
 
 many another aspirant to literary laurels 
 whose toilsome past would never be trod 
 were he conscious of how stony the com- 
 mencement of that way was. 
 
 Things, too, were not altogether pleasant 
 for the curate and his wife in Tunnleton. 
 One of the most redoubtable families in the 
 place were the Torkeslys. It was not by 
 birth or position they had made themselves 
 prominent in the place, but by their number 
 and volubility. It was always said that 
 Colonel Torkesly really did not, within one 
 or two, know how many daughters he had. 
 They pervaded Tunnleton ; it was impossible 
 to go out in Tunnleton without meeting a 
 Torkesly, and to meet a Torkesly meant to 
 hear gossip of some kind. Rumours existed 
 that the family had talked themselves out of 
 more than one such city of refuge. The 
 new curate was safe game to fly at, for the 
 Torkeslys could put the curb on their
 
 158 A FALSE START. 
 
 tongues when they deemed the quarry too 
 strong on the wing ; but Maurice Enderby 
 and his wife had responded coldly to the 
 enthusiastic gush of that family when they 
 had called ; and the Torkeslys, whose life 
 was spent in a struggle to assert their 
 dignity, invariably resented their overtures 
 not being met with equal warmth. People 
 usually do, and yet it would be a weary 
 world if we were forced to take to our 
 bosoms every one with whom we chanced to 
 make acquaintance: better to stand the 
 whole gamut of proud, stand-off, haughty, 
 no-manners, than sell ourselves body and 
 soul to the vulgarians. 
 
 Yet the Philistines rule the social world, 
 for the most part grovelling before Dagon 
 and the flesh-pots, but consoling themselves 
 by spitting at those not privileged to set 
 foot within the outer gate of Dagon's 
 temple.
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 159 
 
 Now, nobody knew anything about the 
 Enderbys, who they were or where they 
 came from— much exercised on the point 
 of who Mrs. Enderby was ; it is always the 
 lady about whose antecedents the com- 
 munity are most disturbed, and, even if 
 they had discovered that Mrs. Enderby was 
 the niece of John Madingley, that fact 
 would have conveyed no information to 
 their minds. In London or the shires or 
 in the county of the Ridings John Mading- 
 ley's name was well known. Amongst the 
 lovers of horse and hound, his name 
 had been a household word in the days 
 of his youth, and amidst the votaries of 
 the turf the marvellous successes achieved 
 by his small stud were often talked of. 
 Madingley was no bettor ; he ran his horses 
 — horses, bear it in mind, invariably of his 
 own breeding — from sheer love of sport, 
 and, though as a younger man lie un-
 
 160 A FALSE START. 
 
 doubtedly backed them for a modest stake, 
 during these latter years he had never either 
 done that or even witnessed their perform- 
 ances. He was a good specimen of a type 
 now pretty well extinct. With the famous 
 Devonshire u passon " who but so lately 
 left us, the last of this famous gathering of 
 black-coated sportsmen may be considered 
 to have finally closed. They were men of 
 another age — good parish priests in their 
 way, usually with comfortable private in- 
 comes of their own, which enabled them to 
 help their poorer parishioners substantially, 
 and their admonitions and advice generally 
 were practised. The new generation would 
 shudder at these proceedings, and profess 
 they could entertain no respect for clergy- 
 men who lived such lives. Perhaps not, but 
 the round of civilisation is a conundrum. 
 Fifty years ago our ancestors, aye, the 
 nobility and dandies of the London world,
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 161 
 
 dined at what were designated as " sport- 
 ing-cribs/' attended prize-fights, and were 
 addicted to cockfighting. They drank more 
 wine than was good for them, and we of 
 the present day doubtless think they were 
 coarse in their manners ; on the contrary, 
 I believe that they were much more polished 
 in manner than ourselves ; they certainly 
 were more particular in their manner with 
 regard to ladies and also in dress. There 
 was a time when to smoke in the Row 
 would have been deemed the acme of bad 
 taste ; in the free-and-easy days we live in 
 to leave a cloud of smoke behind you in a 
 fashionable promenade is a bagatelle, to 
 enter a drawing-room reeking of tobacco 
 an every- day occurrence. All fashion, you 
 say : men reeked of port wine in the early 
 part of the century as they reek of tobacco 
 in the present time. 
 
 Maurice Enderby himself had literally 
 VOL. i. M
 
 162 A FALSE START. 
 
 no other knowledge of the Eeverend John 
 Madingley than he had gathered from Bob 
 Grafton. Bessie knew no more of her uncle 
 than that he was a great sportsman, a 
 wealthy man, and childless ; and after he 
 had made up his mind to try his hand at 
 literature Maurice fell to musing — when he 
 had obtained his title to orders and had been 
 ordained priest whether John Madingley 
 could not be induced to assist him to some 
 small piece of preferment. He did not like 
 Tunnleton, nor apparently did Tunnleton 
 like him ; but that did not so much matter ; 
 he was young, strong, and at all events 
 could see an end of life in Tunnleton. Two 
 years he was bound to complete here, that 
 was requisite as a passport to ordination, 
 and, like it or dislike it, Bessie and he had — 
 as he muttered — to worry through that in 
 some way. 
 
 Then he thought of the old halcyon days
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 163 
 
 when he had first met Bessie, and wandered 
 with her through the shady glades of the Clip- 
 perton Woods^ and finally told her his love- 
 story ; the undisguised indignation of Mrs. 
 Marigold when she discovered that Maurice 
 proposed to marry her governess instead of 
 her second daughter. Dear Mrs. Marigold 
 had her quiver full of these blessings, and 
 like a wise matron, knowing that her 
 daughters were but slenderly dowered, 
 deemed it quite admissible to shift the 
 responsibility of taking charge of them on 
 to any eligible young man who might 
 frequent her sunny villa on the banks of 
 the Thames. She had deemed Maurice 
 Enderby a much greater catch than he 
 really was, thought she saw a penchant on 
 his part for Laura, her second, and had 
 considered the whole thing would do very 
 well, and when that young gentleman in 
 
 his usual insouciant manner informed her 
 M 2
 
 164 A FALSE START. 
 
 of his engagement to Bessie Madingley, as 
 the good lady expressed it afterwards, " you 
 might have knocked her down with a 
 feather," — one of those oft-quoted illustra- 
 tions for which there is no historical 
 warrant. 
 
 But, if she might have been knocked down 
 with a feather, she recovered herself with 
 marvellous alacrit}^, and lost no time in 
 giving Miss Madingley her conge, both her 
 adieux and congratulations bearing an un- 
 mistakable tinge of acidity. But Bessie 
 was happy, and all smiles and laughter, in 
 spite of the ill- concealed bitterness with 
 which her employer bade her farewell. 
 
 It mattered little after all — so thought 
 Maurice at the time ; but the world is small, 
 the venom of an angry woman's tongue goes 
 far, and is hard at times to contradict. Mrs. 
 Marigold was neither sparing nor particularly 
 scrupulous concerning the truth with regard
 
 THE TORKESLYS. 165 
 
 to her late governess. Bessie, indeed, had 
 always been a somewhat independent young 
 woman. She had a slender income of her 
 own, very slender it was true, but enough 
 to make the fact of her losing a situation no 
 matter of immediate dismay — and then 
 Maurice toid her she was to go out in the 
 world no more, but become his wife as soon 
 as they could get matters arranged. Yes, 
 it had all been very sweet, those days of 
 courtship and honeymoon, but he was face 
 to face with the consequences of matrimony 
 now; a small Enderby would be shortly 
 added to the family circle, which meant a 
 considerably additional expenditure. Mau- 
 rice sent heavy clouds of smoke from his 
 brule-gneule, as he thought over this, and the 
 very slender balance there was lying at his 
 banker's. Yes, there was no doubt he must 
 at once hit on some plan to supplement his 
 income.
 
 166 A FALSE START. 
 
 So far the Rev. Jacob Jarrow was very 
 well satisfied with his new curate : if Maurice 
 was a little argumentative and self-asser- 
 tive at the club, he had the good sense to 
 hold his tongue before his rector. He had 
 some idea of discipline, and conceived that 
 he was bound, at all events at present, to 
 conform to the views of his superior in his 
 profession, but when he found himself upon 
 neutral ground, and upon subjects not eccle- 
 siastical, he looked upon it that he had as 
 much right to his opinion as any one else. 
 Fatal mistake ! as if any one can afford 
 opinions of his own at the outset of his 
 career. When your foot is fairly on the 
 ladder it is time enough to air your opinions. 
 
 Maurice, poor fellow, had not as yet quite 
 grasped that fact in social ethics, a want of 
 knowledge of which is productive of a har- 
 vest of thistles, as a rule, to the luckless 
 wight ignorant of the fact.
 
 167 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 
 
 The storm-clouds are gathering fast round 
 Maurice Enderby's head. Badger of Cam- 
 bridge is showering threatening missives and 
 threats of denunciation to every one, from 
 the University Dons to the bench of Bishops, 
 if that account of his be not speedily settled. 
 The butchers' and bakers' bills are slowly but 
 surely creeping into arrears, and money some- 
 how seems to be waxing scarcer and scarcer. 
 Once get a little behind-hand with the world
 
 168 A FALSE STAHT. 
 
 and the first discovery one makes is that 
 there are only eighteen shillings in a sove- 
 reign. Bessie, too, is unable to get about 
 to see after things herself as well as usual ; 
 Maurice has no idea of grappling with the 
 tradespeople, and therefore the probability 
 is that his housekeeping is managed on 
 a somewhat thriftless scale. His literary 
 schemes, so far, have been profitless ; he has 
 written more than one thoughtful article 
 which he had submitted to his rector, which 
 he had honestly deemed to have good stuff 
 in it, although carefully bearing in mind the 
 pride an author is apt to take in his own 
 bantlings. The Reverend Jacob, with all 
 the proud pre-eminence of the man who has 
 figured in print, has pronounced them in a 
 patronising manner " by no means bad, sir ; 
 very creditable to a young man fleshing his 
 maiden pen : " has taken charge of them, 
 and lias promised to submit them to the
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 169 
 
 editors of some of the heavy artillery re- 
 views, with whom the rector gives Maurice 
 vaguely to understand that he is upon more 
 or less intimate terms ; in reality, Maurice 
 would have had every bit as good a chance 
 had he quietly dropped it into the post-office 
 on his own account, Mr. Jarrow's name 
 being no more known to the Jupiter s who 
 swayed the destinies of these periodicals 
 than Maurice's himself. Editors may — or 
 may not — read the effusions of unknown 
 contributors ; it is too often a search for the 
 grain of corn in the bushel of chaff, and 
 must consequently depend upon their time, 
 patience, or lack of material ; but most 
 educated people think they could write a 
 magazine article if they tried. 
 
 Tunnleton, too, generally was planting 
 its darts in Maurice Enderby. Pin-pricks, if 
 you like ; it is not the banderillos that kill 
 the bull, but they goad him to madness ;
 
 170 A FALSE START. 
 
 and so it was with poor Maurice; accus- 
 tomed to hold his head amongst the best 
 men of his college, and with an acknow- 
 ledgedly good head-piece, Maurice was fear- 
 less, frank, and out-spoken in his opinions ; he 
 rather pooh-poohed and laughed at Tunnle- 
 ton's old-world notions, and Tunnleton fiercely 
 resented that one whom they designated 
 " a mere unknown, penniless curate," should 
 take this tone with them. He was stuck-up, 
 said Tunnleton, and must be made to recog- 
 nise his proper position. He ought to be 
 very grateful for being taken any notice of ; 
 but Maurice Enderby utterly declined to be 
 patronized, he accepted such attentions as 
 were bestowed upon him as if perfectly his 
 due, treated the 6lite of Tunnleton with 
 courtesy, but completely as though he was 
 their equal, and made not the slightest 
 bones in differing from General Maddox, 
 General Praun, or any of the other pillars
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES 171 
 
 of the community, upon any subject what- 
 ever ; a shrewd, clever young fellow, 
 thoroughly well-read, and perfectly con- 
 versant with most of the leading topics of 
 the day, he was a terrible thorn in the side 
 of most of the veterans of the club. The 
 military experiences of Generals Maddox 
 and Praun, for instance, were somewhat 
 antiquated; Maurice had been a member 
 of the University Volunteer Corps, and 
 consequently his knowledge of the present 
 system of drill far exceeded that of those 
 gallant old officers. 
 
 In these days thp interest in things mili- 
 tary wonderfully exceeds that of thirty years 
 ago. Before the Crimean war it may be 
 doubted whether much more was known 
 concerning soldiers than that they all wore 
 red, had rather good bands, gave rather 
 good dinners, and, the young ladies would 
 add, were as a rule good waltzers. But the
 
 172 A FALSE START. 
 
 campaign of the Chersonese changed all 
 that. For the first time the vivid pens of 
 Special Correspondents brought the daily 
 doings of the soldiers under the eyes of their 
 countrymen. Maps of the famous Black Sea 
 peninsula were published by the thousands, 
 and the redoubts of the Malakoff andMamelon, 
 the whereabouts of Eupatoria and Batchi 
 Serai, were as accurately known to hundreds 
 of civilians as to the veteran warriors whose 
 swords were hanging on the walls ; indeed, 
 judging by the joke of u take care of Dowb" 
 probably better than by those on the spot. 
 Then came the great Volunteer movement. A 
 knowledge of military science spread rapidly. 
 No men are more conservative as a rule than 
 soldiers, and the heroes of the Sikh cam- 
 paign, who won their spurs long before 
 the appearance of arms of precision, would 
 doubtless deride any opinion on military 
 matters expressed by a civilian.
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 173 
 
 I cannot help smiling sometimes when I 
 hear my confreres beguiled into discussing 
 the London campaign or the late war in 
 Zululand with one of these enthusiastic 
 volunteers. It is the old sabreur unex- 
 pectedly entangled with the rising swords- 
 man. It is almost pitiful to see the veteran 
 trying to shake off his antagonist, who 
 has all the best military reviews and jour- 
 nals at his fingers' ends, and has studied 
 the maps till he knows them by heart, can 
 name all the strong positions and the 
 number of miles they are apart glibly, with 
 all the pros and cons for and against the 
 outcome of the campaign. I know but little 
 of the science of war ; our latest battles only 
 show that as far as formation goes we are 
 just where the grand old Romans were, 
 but we are certainly far improved in our 
 weapons of destruction. But Napoleon's 
 great dictum still holds true, and the great-
 
 174 A FALSE START. 
 
 est general is he who makes the fewest mis- 
 takes. The majority of the great battles of 
 the world have been won by downright 
 flukes. None more conspicuously so than 
 Marengo, where little Kleber's wild charge 
 
 saved Napoleon. If Kleber had not been tired 
 
 * 
 of doing nothing, and if the Austrians had 
 
 not exposed their flank and been stricken with 
 panic, Marengo would have ended very dif- 
 ferently. The conqueror of Europe might 
 have been checked at the beginning of his 
 career and shot for failure by the French 
 Directory. Very apt to deal promptly with 
 their military and naval leaders these re- 
 publics, from the relentless sentences of the 
 City of the Violet Crown down to those of her 
 modern prototype, Lutetia. Even our own 
 steady, even- pulsed Anglo-Saxon race could 
 steel their hearts to shooting an admiral in 
 the case of Byng, because he had failed to 
 understand that under anv circumstances an
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 175 
 
 Englishman must fight is the dogged 
 opinion of his nation. 
 
 I am wandering away, apparently, from 
 my story, but it must be borne in mind 
 that, well-known as these little historiettes 
 may be, they were anything but well-known 
 to the school of which Generals Maddox 
 and Praun appertained. These veterans 
 formed part of that gallant old army that 
 subsisted on the traditions of the Peninsula. 
 
 They had entered the service before the 
 
 • 
 
 days of examination and left it before 
 the days of breech-loaders. Warriors of a 
 completely superannuated time, but with 
 as much confidence in their judgment as a 
 Waterloo veteran might manifest concern- 
 ing the strategy of the Crimea, which, as 
 we all know, was still conducted on pretty 
 well the old obsolete principles. 
 
 Do you suppose a Crimea man, accus- 
 tomed to see or hear of a far bigger record
 
 176 A FALSE START. 
 
 of killed and wounded weekly in a name 
 less skirmish, feels much respect for the 
 battle of Tel-el-Kebir P It was ever so with 
 these warriors of the olden times. They 
 didn't see much in results that were brought 
 about with such marvellously little fighting. 
 I suppose it's all right, and that our very 
 modern generals are marvellous chess-players, 
 but when one sees such very small sacrifice 
 of the pawns and knights one can but think 
 there is a very weak player at the other 
 side of the board. Now this was just one 
 of the things that Maurice Enderby irritated 
 these old soldiers about to an enormous 
 extent ; not only was he liberal in his 
 politics but he stood up stoutly for the 
 triumphs of the great liberal generals, that 
 is, those appointed by the liberal adminis- 
 tration, and against which in good sooth 
 his adversaries might have had much to 
 say had they only the wit to argue the
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 177 
 
 question, but that was just what they 
 could not do ; the clever young Oxonian 
 knew much more about modern military 
 strategy than they did, and, to speak figur- 
 atively, tripped up their heels and laid them 
 on their backs continually. 
 
 It can hardly be supposed that all this 
 conduced to making Maurice Enderby 
 popular with the little military hierarchy 
 that somewhat dominated Tunnleton. That 
 the veterans of the Old Guard should 
 be wroth with a curate who dared to chal- 
 lenge their military memories and opinions 
 was but natural. Maurice Enderby was 
 adding little to his popularity by his dis- 
 play of soldier's lore at the Tunnleton Club. 
 
 Things certainly were looking black 
 for the new curate. To people like the 
 butcher and baker he was somewhat in 
 arrear, and these people were beginning 
 to be respectfully urgent with regard 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 178 A FALSE START. 
 
 to their money, when there suddenly 
 occurred an event that took Tunnleton' s 
 breath away ! General Praun's eyes nearly 
 bolted out of his head, and, in that tem- 
 perate and classic language for which he 
 was distinguished, he exclaimed to his wife 
 
 on going home to lunch, " By ! what 
 
 do you think, Jem " (short for Jemima) ; 
 " what do you think ? I'm dashed if the 
 Bridge Court carriage wasn't standing at 
 the Enderbys' door as I passed it just now." 
 Likely to make a terrible stir this, in a 
 tiny little fish-pond like Tunnleton. The 
 Bridge Court people did not fraternize with 
 Tunnleton, and indeed were not upon visit- 
 ing terms with any one but the Chyltons. 
 of the Bank and Dr. Rumney, and even 
 with these the acquaintance was slight, and 
 limited to a couple of formal dinners a year. 
 The Balders were most decidedly not 
 given to general calling in Tunnleton.
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 179 
 
 They had never vouchsafed the slightest 
 notice of General Maddox, General Praun, 
 or any of those other military magnates 
 as leaders of Tunnleton society. General 
 Maddox — who mastered the fact about the 
 same time — indeed, circumstances in Tun- 
 nleton were not very long in becoming 
 town-talk — took the news home to his wife 
 with the observation : 
 
 " Most extraordinary, my dear. By 
 Jupiter! if the Balders haven't called on 
 that stuck-up young Enderby ! Where 
 the deuce society's going to I don't know, 
 but, when county people call upon radical 
 curates and overlook general officers, there 
 must be a pretty considerable screw loose 
 in our social organization somewhere." 
 
 ' ' Do you mean to tell me, Maxey, that 
 the Bridge Court people have actually called 
 upon the Enderby s ? " 
 
 " Yes, by Jove, I do! and nothing has 
 
 n2
 
 180 A FALSE START. 
 
 astonished me so much for a long time ; if 
 serving your country for close on forty 
 years don't entitle a man to his country's 
 respect, I don't know what does ; and yet, 
 here are the Bridge Court people calling 
 on a whipper-snapper curate like Enderby, 
 and, as you know, madam, they have never, 
 as yet, called upon us." 
 
 It was not likely that such an event as 
 this would escape that keen-sighted cohort 
 the Torkeslys — difficult indeed to baffle the 
 vision or ears of that vigilant little brigade 
 of sharp-shooters. Nothing much that went 
 on in Tunnleton could escape their ken — 
 it was difficult to imagine even a proposal 
 of marriage taking place without a Torkesly 
 looming in the background. You couldn't 
 get away from that indefatigable family ; 
 some one or other member of them attended 
 everything; and ball, birth, or burial, feast 
 or fast, wooing or wedding, there was ever
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 181 
 
 a Miss Torkesly there to take keen and 
 attentive note of the pioceedings. No 
 uncommon type this, you will always find 
 a family or so of this kind in every pro- 
 vincial town, taking that diligent interest 
 in their neighbours' affairs that is so de- 
 lightful, and tends so much to universal 
 love and good feeling. 
 
 Tunnleton, indeed, was much exercised in 
 its mind about the fact of the Bridge Court 
 people having called upon the Enderbys, and 
 once more the question as to who the 
 Enderbys were was fiercely discussed. To 
 Maurice it was all plain enough. He knew 
 very well that he was indebted for this 
 courtesy from the B alders to Bob Grafton as 
 an intimate friend of the family ; he had 
 doubtless mentioned his — Maurice's — name, 
 and begged they would do the civil thing to 
 them, and cheery unaffected people like the 
 Bridge Court family were only too pleased
 
 182 A FALSE START. 
 
 to extend the hand of fellowship to a couple 
 whom they were emphatically told would 
 prove a pleasant acquisition to their circle. 
 
 " You will do them, me, and yourselves a 
 turn, Miss Balders, if you call on them," 
 Bob Grafton said upon the occasion of his 
 last visit to Bridge Court. " He was not 
 only in quite one of the best sets at Oxford, 
 but about the best man all round in it. He 
 not only could beat us in the schools, but we 
 couldn't catch him with the drag either, and 
 as for his wife she is simply charming. 
 They labour under only one drawback, and 
 that is one that you are not the people to 
 care about ; they are poor. As for Mrs. 
 Enderby, she is a niece of old John Mading- 
 ley, one of the best families in Yorkshire.' ' 
 
 " I shall not forget, Mr. Grafton ; we 
 would do a great deal more than that for an 
 old friend like yourself, and if a little civility 
 from Bridge Court can make things a trifle
 
 FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 183 
 
 more pleasant for Mr. and Mrs. Enderby 
 during their sojourn in Tunnleton, don't be 
 afraid but what it shall be extended to 
 them." 
 
 And the Maddoxes, the Prauns, and the 
 Torkeslys marvelled greatly at this new and 
 extraordinary phenomenon in the social 
 horizon, destined to be still more astonished 
 before the erratic course of such a comet as 
 Maurice Enderby was brought to a con- 
 clusion.
 
 184 
 
 CHAPTER XIII, 
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 
 
 That the Bridge Court people should call 
 upon " those Enderbys " perfectly convulsed 
 the minds of Mrs. Maddox, Praun, and 
 those uncountable Torkeslys, but far from 
 propitiated that great faction of Tunnleton 
 already disposed to speak ill-naturedly 
 of the new curate ; it simply set their 
 tongues running faster ; apparently it seemed 
 a piece of presumption in their eyes
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 185 
 
 that Maurice Enderby should even be called 
 upon at all. They could give no reason for 
 this. Enderby was a gentleman who had 
 received a university education, and came 
 there unmistakably to take a gentleman's 
 position in their midst. As for his wife, no 
 one for one moment disputed the fact that 
 she was a lady ; it was not that, but the 
 magnates of Tunnleton thought curates were 
 to be patronised, and, lo and behold, here 
 was a curate who not only refused to be 
 patronised but held strong opinions of his 
 own, and, worse still, had the audacity to 
 express them ! 
 
 " Gad, sir!" said General Praun, " that 
 young beggar Enderby at the club only the 
 other day not only found fault with the 
 government but pronounced the chiefs of the 
 opposition a set of old women ; besides, it's 
 all very well, sir, but you must reverence 
 something or somebody, and, as far as I can
 
 186 A FALSE START. 
 
 see, lie has no reverence for anything or 
 anybody ; why, dash it, sir, he simply pooh- 
 poohed Maddox's views and mine about the 
 Eastern question, and I flatter myself that, 
 after the years we spent there, we should be 
 some authority upon what is likely to occur 
 there." 
 
 A fatal mistake ! As if there were not 
 men who could live ten years in a country 
 and not know more about it than the student 
 who only gets his knowledge from books ; as 
 if time stood still, and the man who has 
 spent half a life-time in a country but left it 
 fifteen years ago can be the slightest judge 
 of public thought or public feeling there in 
 the present day. It has happened probably 
 to most of us to go back to some place that 
 we have known when young, and perhaps a 
 score of years ago. Do not we all know 
 what a miserable mistake it has been ? We 
 have seen more of the world since then, and
 
 LITER AIY FAILURES. 187 
 
 the place looks dwarfed. It is so much 
 smaller than we pictured it. The promenade 
 we once thought so magnificent turns out to 
 be a very small affair ; the public rooms and 
 public buildings insignificant ; and what we 
 have been trained to look on as the magnifi- 
 cent mansions of the place turn out to be 
 very ordinary residences after all. Now, 
 much as Generals Maddox and Praun would 
 have derided the idea, Maurice Enderby had 
 really seen more of the world than either of 
 these gallant officers. Their lives had been 
 principally passed in India, when they did 
 retire from the service they had settled in 
 Tunnleton, and, though no doubt they oc- 
 casionally visited the metropolis, their know- 
 ledge of London was very circumscribed. 
 Tunnleton was the home of their adoption, 
 and Tunnleton, after the manner of the 
 citizens of Boston, U.S., they had elevated 
 to the position of " Hub of the Universe."
 
 188 A FALSE START. 
 
 In the meantime Maurice felt his life 
 growing harder and harder; he lived in 
 apprehension of what the irritable Badger 
 might be capable of. This alone showed 
 that he was no hardened offender ; had he 
 been more practised in debt and difficulties 
 he would have known quite well, that, 
 whatever he might] threaten, Mr. Badger 
 would never proceed to extremities. Mr. 
 Badger was no fool, and knew perfectly well 
 that the settlement of his account depended 
 entirely upon Mr. Enderby's doing well in 
 his profession. 
 
 " It is as well to keep the screw on 'em," 
 Mr. Badger observed, when talking the 
 matter over with one of his intimates, "it 
 may be hard, but it's best to wring a bit out 
 of them on account, even though you know 
 there's no chance of a real settlement — keeps 
 'em lively like, makes 'em think of you, 
 makes 'em bear you in mind because they
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 189 
 
 know you bears them ; it ain't to be supposed 
 they likes it, but, Lord love you, nobody 
 does like paying for the cakes and ale he eat 
 two years ago." 
 
 Mr. Badger's business was peculiar ; if he 
 hadn't given a great deal of credit it would 
 have been very much restricted, but he 
 understood it, and he understood human 
 nature. He might be a man of no education 
 but he was a thorough philosopher, and if he 
 bullied Maurice Enderby it was neither in a 
 spiteful spirit nor from any personal feeling 
 of animosity, it was in fact a mere matter of 
 business. Maurice's, like many other such 
 debts, was so much capital locked up. 
 There was plenty of time to wait for a com- 
 plete settling, but it was necessary to wring 
 a certain sum per annum out of the luckless 
 creditor to represent the thirty or forty per 
 cent, that Mr. Badger considered his due on 
 such transactions. But to the man relent-
 
 190 A FALSE START. 
 
 lessly worried for money it signifies little 
 whether it is a matter of business or a matter 
 of malice. The finding of the precious metals 
 is equally difficult, and the majority of 
 humanity, recklessly though they may incur 
 debt, pay when they can when dunned in 
 earnest. It was a bold Hibernian plunger 
 who, hardly pressed and even threatened 
 with the penalties of an utterly unsettled 
 Epsom account, I heard some years ago ex- 
 claim, philosophically, to his angry creditors, 
 €t Faith, you cannot get blood out of a stone. " 
 What became of that staunch backer of per- 
 sistent losers I never heard, but my mind 
 misgives me that his creditors very quickly 
 realised the truth of his remark. 
 
 Maurice kept his troubles pretty well to 
 himself. He was not of the kind that takes 
 to begging and whimpering in their diffi- 
 culties ; like a game horse he " ran honest " 
 in his distress, and did his best to struggle
 
 LITEEARY FAILURES. 191 
 
 home. It was no use vexing Bessie, especially 
 now, with the stories of his debts and duns, but 
 for all that the story was one that promised 
 to speedily publish itself. Liye he must — 
 at all events he saw the necessity, if nobody 
 else did — and the butcher and the baker 
 were necessary adjuncts to existence. Very 
 prosaic this, no doubt ; more prosaic still the 
 quiet pertinacity with which those purveyors 
 send in their weekly accounts. 
 
 Maurice Enderby thought anxiously over 
 all these things as he smoked his solitary 
 pipe. They came between him and the 
 paper — for he was still working steadily at 
 literature, in the hope that the time would 
 shortly come when he might supplement his 
 income in that wise. But literature is a 
 slippery ladder to climb, and, in its earlier 
 stages, one's work is by no means in much 
 request. Maurice, too, was making a very 
 bad start. Better to run on your own
 
 192 A FALSE START. 
 
 bottom than under the fostering wing of an 
 impostor, who conveys to you an exaggerated 
 idea of his power in the land of letters. 
 
 Maurice's stuff was, in the language of the 
 profession, "by no means bad/' but when it 
 reached the hands of the editors recommended 
 by the Reverend Jacob Jarrow they did not 
 much trouble themselves to look at it. That 
 gentleman was but little known, and his 
 lucubrations were regarded much in the same 
 light as the famous "Eatanswille Gazette," 
 which the irrevent Slurk pronounced tl un- 
 grammatical twaddle." Little hope that 
 solid remuneration would accrue for some 
 time yet to Maurice from that quarter. 
 Another singular thing that went against 
 Maurice was his play at lawn tennis. There 
 are some amusements at which you may be- 
 come unpopular by being a little too good. 
 Maurice had been one of the best players at 
 the University, and it was objected to him
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 193 
 
 at garden-parties, when he joined at this 
 
 diversion, that he ei spoiled the interest of the 
 
 game," as he played rather too well. It 
 
 is easily understood ; average players get a 
 
 vast amount of amusement out of all games 
 
 they may patronise, but the appearance of 
 
 a past master invariably spoils their fun. 
 
 People said unkind things concerning him. 
 
 General Praun remarked that he must have 
 
 dedicated his whole time at college to the 
 
 acquirement of lawn tennis, which accounted 
 
 for his ignorance on other subjects. 
 
 The attentions too of the Bridge Court 
 
 people were gall and wormwood to Tunnle- 
 
 ton. The Balders had undoubtedly been 
 
 very civil to Maurice and his wife. They 
 
 had not only called several times, but had 
 
 asked them to lunch and spend the day at 
 
 Bridge Court : and, upon finding that Bessie 
 
 was in delicate health, had sent her various 
 
 contributions from the conservatories and 
 vol. I. o
 
 194 A FALSE START. 
 
 fruit-houses. All this occasioned much spite- 
 ful feeling in Tunnleton, where there were 
 several families who rather looked down 
 upon the Enderbys, and considered them- 
 selves far more worthy of such distinction. 
 It is so at times. People constantly resent 
 our knowing their superiors in the social 
 scale. We may not be very proud of it ; 
 we may not brag of it ; but by some accident 
 we have achieved such acquaintance, and 
 the mere fact that it is so always irritates 
 such j)ersons when it comes under their 
 notice. 
 
 Clouds roll up as well as roll by, and Mau- 
 rice's horizon was getting more and more 
 gloomy as the spring-time came. He was a 
 happy father, and that event had not con- 
 tributed to lighten his difficulties, although 
 he pretty well held his own with his trades- 
 people, and the irritable Badger still confined 
 himself to threats. One morning he received
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 195 
 
 an unexpected letter from Bob Grafton, 
 
 which ran as follows — 
 
 " Dear Maurice, 
 
 " How are Mrs. Enderby and the young 
 
 one going on ? — I hope well. I saw the 
 
 birth of the son and heir in the ' Times,' 
 
 ( ' Heir,' muttered Maurice. i Yes ; to the 
 
 inheritance of love ' ) and had a bottle of 
 
 champagne on the strength of it. Put me 
 
 down as godfather if you can't do better. 
 
 Mind, a good godfather is like a good, 
 
 though rather far-fetched, speculation, he 
 
 may turn up trumps some day, ' more or 
 
 less,' as the music-hall bard hath it. I 
 
 might do as a second string, being good for 
 
 a silver cup down, and a case of wine for 
 
 keeping his early birthdays with. 
 
 " Now there's another of your family on 
 
 the verge, I'm told, of distinguishing herself. 
 
 The Wandering Nun, I hear, is to make her 
 
 debut in the ' Woodcotes,' and report speaks 
 o2
 
 196 A FALSE START. 
 
 highly of the young lady's charms and 
 capabilities. I intend to have a pony on 
 her myself, but, unless my memory — a 
 pretty good one — plays me false, her 
 triumph will mean something better than 
 that to Mrs. Enderby. Don't be very 
 sanguine about it. Young ones the first 
 time of asking are seldom to be trusted on 
 a racecourse, and the equine fair sex in the 
 first part of the season are wont to be ca- 
 pricious in their behaviour. Have you seen 
 much of the Bridge Court people? They 
 are great friends of mine, as you know, and 
 I hope you have seen a good deal of them. 
 I'm afraid I shall not be down your way till 
 the autumn, so with kind regards to the 
 wife, and trusting that the ' wandering 
 recluse ' may distinguish herself at Epsom, 
 
 " I am ever yours, 
 
 " Bob Grafton."
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 197 
 
 Maurice received this letter in tbe early 
 part of April, and that from this he should 
 occasionally glance at the racing intelligence 
 in the morning papers was only natural; but, 
 of course, he found no allusion to the 
 " Woodcotes," and easily ascertained that 
 that race was not run until the end of May, 
 and there was seldom any betting upon it 
 till two or three days before the race. 
 From that time he put it out of his thoughts, 
 and it was not till the papers teemed with 
 the accounts of the great Epsom carnival 
 that he once more sought for information 
 about Uncle John's wedding present. He 
 read the account of the " Woodcotes " with 
 great interest — interest which rapidly died 
 out on his ascertaining that the "Wander- 
 ing Nun," had not even started for that 
 race. 
 
 "Ah!" he said to himself, "I'm afraid
 
 198 A FALSE STAKT. 
 
 Bessie's wedding-gift is one of those will- 
 o'-the-wisps that terminate in nothing. I 
 don't know much about it, but everyone 
 has heard that very promising foals, like 
 very promising boys, often turn out much 
 below mediocrity. There is no more de- 
 pendence to be placed on help from that 
 quarter. Grafton was quite right when he 
 warned me not to be too sanguine. My 
 literature is coming to nothing — we can't 
 live more carefully than we do, and yet we 
 are drifting behind the world, to say nothing 
 of my old Oxford liabilities looming in the 
 background ; " and with this reflection 
 Maurice Enderby threw down the paper 
 and went for a long meditative walk. 
 
 u I must try and turn my hand to some- 
 thing else," he mused, " I work hard at 
 my profession but I want something to 
 supplement it ; however, as I don't see my 
 way to anything else at present, I'll just
 
 LITERARY FAILURES. 199 
 
 hammer along at the pen-and-ink work, and 
 next time I'll not ask Jarrow's help, but 
 run up to town and see what I can do on 
 my own account."
 
 200 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 
 
 But if the world was by no mens a bed of 
 roses to Maurice Enderby it was still less so to 
 his wife. Bessie was a plucky little woman, 
 out and about, and quite herself again now. 
 Still she was fighting a hard battle in many 
 ways ; there was not only the endless 
 struggle to make both ends meet on scanty 
 means, but she had her own countless skir- 
 mishes with Tunnleton society to boot. 
 Bessie was a quick-witted young woman,
 
 MCHATCD MADINGLEY. 201 
 
 and with plenty of spirit of her own. And 
 when Tunnleton commenced patronising 
 her it quickly found that she was by no 
 means disposed to accept the role of the 
 meek curate's wife. She had more than 
 once completely worsted the Torkeslys in 
 their own house, and even Mrs. Maddox 
 had been compelled to own that Mrs. 
 Enderby quite knew how to take her jDlace 
 in this world. She was almost as bad as 
 her husband. She smiled good-naturedly 
 at Tunnleton fashions, and sometimes rather 
 laughed at Tunnleton opinions, and it was 
 a quickly recognised thing that Bessie could 
 take her own part in the social tournament. 
 Neither she nor her husband at all kotooed 
 to the magnates of the place, but then on 
 the other hand it was conceded that they 
 were agreeable, pleasant people, although 
 they had the audacity to have opinions of 
 their own — a thing preposterous in their
 
 202 A FALSE START. 
 
 present position. Still as the summer wore 
 on, although it was rumoured that the 
 Enderbys were dreadfully hard up, yet 
 perhaps they had grown somewhat more 
 popular. People do sometimes who pursue 
 the even tenor of their way and don't 
 trouble themselves about their neighbours. 
 It was about this time that an event occurred 
 in Tunnleton which was destined later on 
 to agitate the little town to its very centre. 
 A young gentleman of about five-and- twenty 
 arrived in the place with two or three 
 horses and as many servants, took one of 
 the most suitable bachelor residences in 
 the town, announced that his name was 
 Richard Madingley, and that he meant to 
 spend the summer there. He had taken a 
 house with a pretty garden attached to it, 
 just the thing, he remarked, for garden- 
 parties — put himself up for the Club, and
 
 [RICHARD MADINGLEY. 203 
 
 let it be understood that he meant to enter- 
 tain and go in for society generally. 
 
 Tunnieton voted Mr. Madingley an im- 
 mense acquisition; the young ladies declared 
 he was so handsome ; the men were struck 
 with his offhand bonhommie; and then 
 there was no deception about his hospitable 
 intentions. As soon as he had felt his way 
 he gave a correct little bachelor- dinner, 
 and picked his guests with marvellous dex- 
 terity. He had not fallen into the mistake 
 of asking a lot of young men of his own 
 age, but bidden to the feast u the grave and 
 reverend signors," and had taken care that 
 the palates of the veterans should be 
 titillated. General Maddox pronounced him 
 a fine young fellow, while General Praun 
 declared that the evening brought back 
 vivid recollections of the Byculla Club. 
 There was only one member of the military 
 hierarchy who was not loud in his en-
 
 204 A FALSE START. 
 
 comiuins of young Madingley, and this was 
 General Shrewster. Shrewster was a man 
 of the world, an ex-dragoon, a man who 
 had lived all his life in the best society. 
 He had been asked to the feast of young 
 Lucullus, but had declined, and when 
 pressed upon the subject of this self-denial 
 had replied, tersely : 
 
 u I think you are all a little mistaken in 
 that young man. I have nothing, remember, 
 to allege against him. No doubt he is a 
 popular } 7 oung fellow, but he gives me the 
 idea of not being quite a gentleman. I 
 dare say I am mistaken, but at all events I 
 generally stand to my own opinion, and have 
 no intention of being on terms of intimacy 
 with him.'' 
 
 General Shrewster was a slightly cynical 
 man, unmarried, but well-off, and his opinion 
 carried considerable weight in Tunnleton. 
 He did not mix much in society, living
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 205 
 
 rather a quiet and retired life, although 
 entertaining occasionally in admirable taste. 
 " By Jove, sir ! " General Maddox would 
 say, " Shrewster may not do it often, but 
 he does know how to do it." But the ex- 
 dragoon was a difficult man to lure to other 
 people's houses. Always courteous, low- 
 voiced, and pleasant, when he did put in 
 an appearance he was amazingly popular 
 and especially with the ladies. A good- 
 looking, thorough-bred man of fifty-five, 
 young ladies particularly voted him charm- 
 ing, and the rarity of his appearance, as 
 usual, enhanced his value. Amongst one 
 of his curious whims, at all events in the 
 eyes of Tunnleton, was that he had taken 
 a fancy to Maurice Enderby. He laughed 
 at his liberal principles, and as an old 
 militaire naturally pooh-poohed the idea of 
 his knowing anything about military matters,
 
 206 A FALSE STAUT. 
 
 but for all that he bore an unmistakably 
 kindly feeling towards the curate. 
 
 When General Praun upon one occasion 
 ventured to ask him what made him such 
 friends with that bumptious young curate, 
 between himself and whom there was not 
 an opinion in common, General Shrewster 
 replied, with a queer smile, 
 
 " I like 'em well-bred, and that fellow's 
 got good blood in his veins ; he is the sort 
 of young man I should like to have seen 
 amongst my subalterns when I commanded 
 the 7th Hussars ; I daresay he can ride, and 
 if he can't I'd bet a cool hundred he'd very 
 soon learn ; and I'll tell you what, Praun, 
 a young fellow who has the pluck to hold 
 unpopular opinions is seldom wanting in 
 pluck about anything. There was a deuced 
 good dragoon lost to the service when 
 Enderby turned curate." 
 
 Maurice, from the first, had naturally been
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 207 
 
 struck by the name of Richard Madingley ; he 
 had watched his proceedings with considerable 
 interest, and, strange to say, he had come much 
 to the same opinion as General Shrewster ; 
 when he questioned Bessie about this distant 
 relative of hers, she simply made answer, 
 that she had never heard of him ; (i still, 
 she added, " as far as I gather from you he 
 is really only a second cousin of Uncle 
 John's, and relations of that kind very often 
 know nothing about each other." 
 
 et Still," rejoined Maurice, " I should have 
 thought you would have heard who was the 
 probable heir to your uncle's estates ; when 
 there is a rich man in the family it is gene- 
 rally pretty well known who will be, or at 
 all events who is likely to be, his successor." 
 
 "I can only say," replied Bessie, " I 
 haven't the slightest idea who Uncle John's 
 heir is likely to be, 1 know he has no very 
 near relations."
 
 208 A FALSE START. 
 
 "Why! What do you call yourself?'' 
 cried Maurice. 
 
 " Well, I believe I am the nearest he has, 
 but you don't for one moment suppose that 
 he would think of leaving Bingwell to a 
 woman." 
 
 " No, indeed, I didn't mean that," said 
 Maurice, laughing, "I wouldn't give you 
 much for your reversion of the property, so 
 suppose this Mr. Madingley is in all pro- 
 bability his heir." 
 
 And with that the conversation on the 
 subject dropped. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Enderby," ex- 
 claimed Maria Torkesly, meeting the curate 
 in Tontine Street, the leading thoroughfare 
 of Tunnleton. " Have you heard the news ? 
 Mr. Madingley is going to give a great 
 garden-party on the 12th, and everybody is 
 going. We have just got our card ; are you 
 going?"
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 209 
 
 " Well, Miss Torkesly, I have not got 
 mine, so I suppose I may answer, no." 
 
 ei Oh, I dare say they are not all out as 
 yet. You are sure to receive one. You 
 must come. Give my love to Mrs. Enderby 
 and tell her I shall quite look forward to 
 seeing her there." 
 
 Maurice raised his hat in sign of adieu, 
 and Miss Torkesly hurried off to flourish 
 her invitation before all her acquaintances. 
 When she said that every one was going, 
 she knew perfectly well that it was not to 
 be a large party, but it was a customary 
 fiction of the Torkesly s whereby they con- 
 veyed the fact to their unasked neighbours 
 that everybody that was anybody was going, 
 and left them to the obvious inference. 
 
 Maurice, his morning's work finished, 
 
 dropped into the club to have a glance at 
 
 the morning's papers before going home to 
 
 luncheon. He found that little community 
 VOL. i. p
 
 210 A FALSE START. 
 
 in a state of considerable excitement, and 
 the military section (a somewhat large one) 
 literally on the boil. Our troops had sus- 
 tained a tremendous disaster on the other 
 side of the Equator, and, let alone Tunnle- 
 ton, all England was ringing with it that 
 morning. 
 
 "What business had he so far from his 
 base ? " asked General Maddox, in those 
 judicial tones of his, " tell me that, Sir." 
 
 " He ought to be shot," rejoined the iras- 
 cible Praun. " If they don't bring Lord 
 Raggleton to a court-martial the Govern- 
 ment ought to be ashamed of themselves." 
 
 " Gad, he does seem to have made a mess 
 of it," said General Shrewster, " upon my 
 word he doesn't seem to understand the use 
 of cavalry at all. He's responsible for the 
 whole business, and when I was in the 
 service a man who had made such a prepos- 
 terous mistake as that would have thought
 
 RICHAKD MADINGLEY. 211 
 
 himself lucky if his life had not been the 
 penalty of it." 
 
 " I suppose the leader of an army is always 
 liable to make a mistake at times/' re- 
 marked Maurice, quietly ; ci don't you recol- 
 lect Napoleon's dictum. Lord Raggleton 
 has apparently blundered this time." 
 
 16 But there are blunders a man ought not 
 to escape punishment for," said General 
 Shrewster with an amused twinkle in his 
 eye. 
 
 " Perhaps not, but don't you think we 
 are trying Lord Eaggleton by a drum-head 
 court-martial with next to no knowledge of 
 facts?" retorted Maurice; "the English 
 public, like the Athenians, are swift, though 
 not particularly just, in their judgment." 
 
 "You are hardly a judge of military 
 
 affairs," snorted Praun, u a manlike Raggle- 
 
 ton ought to meet his deserts." 
 
 " Do you think a man fights best with 
 p2
 
 212 A FALSE START. 
 
 a rope round his neck, General ? I should 
 think one would feel one's hands rather 
 tied about fighting if one knew the penalty 
 for defeat were to be death. One does not 
 require to be a military man to understand 
 that." 
 
 "You see, Mr. Enderby," observed General 
 Maddox in his most pompous tones, "a civilian 
 cannot be expected to quite understand these 
 matters any more than we can be expected 
 to understand the intricacies of your pro- 
 fession." 
 
 u Well," rejoined Maurice, laughing, " I 
 have heard some of you comment pretty 
 freely upon the proceedings of my cloth 
 before this, and now I must go borne to 
 lunch. 'Tis possible, gentlemen, you may 
 alter your verdict when fuller details con- 
 cerning this disaster reach us. Meanwhile I 
 think it would be as well for Lord Raggleton
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 213 
 
 that his court-martial should not be held at 
 Tunnleton.'' 
 
 16 By Jove ! " said General Praun, as Mau- 
 rice left the room, " that fellow Enderby is 
 the most conceited young upstart I ever 
 came across : there is nothing he refrains 
 from giving his opinion about. What can 
 he know, now I ask you all, what the devil 
 can he know about campaigning ? " 
 
 u Well," replied General Shrewster, laugh- 
 ing, " I don't suppose he does know much 
 about that, but he is a little difficult to 
 get the better of in argument. Carries too 
 many guns for you, Praun, eh ?'" 
 
 " I hate fellows who are all jabber like 
 young rooks,*' replied that irascible veteran, 
 and turning abruptly on his heel he left the 
 room. 
 
 General Shrewster gave a low laugh. It 
 amused him very much to sec his ancient
 
 214 A FALSE START. 
 
 brethren in arms so utterly unable to cope 
 in conversation with the young parson, but 
 still he had quite as great a contempt for a 
 civilian's opinion on military affairs as either 
 General Maddox or General Praun. 
 
 When Maurice arrived at home he found 
 Bessie waiting lunch for him with rather a 
 troubled face. 
 
 " What's the matter, dear?" he asked, 
 " I can see that something has gone wrong." 
 
 u Have your lunch first," she said, " no- 
 thing has gone wrong, still there is a little 
 unpleasantness. ' ' 
 
 Maurice looked at her for a moment, and 
 then as he sat down to his modest repast 
 said, inquiringly, 
 
 " I suppose you want money." 
 
 " Well, yes, if you can find it,'' she said. 
 " Rumford, the butcher, was up here this 
 morning, and said he would like something
 
 RICHARD MADINGLEY. 215 
 
 on account ; his bill has been running rather 
 long, you know." 
 
 Maurice said nothing, but became plunged 
 into deep thought. He must have a little 
 money to go on with somehow; as to at- 
 tempting a settlement with Badger that was 
 out of the question, but the tradespeople 
 were another matter ; he must go to his 
 wife's trustees, and persuade them to let him 
 have a hundred pounds out of her settle- 
 ment. They were not likely to object to 
 this, more especially as this settlement was 
 not good in the eye of the law, it having 
 been made subsequent to the large debt he 
 had contracted to the livery stable-keeper. 
 He had vowed that nothing but Badger 
 should ever make him break into that little 
 fund. In this case if the man should pro- 
 ceed to extremities he was unable to prevent 
 it, and to the extent of his due the livery-
 
 216 A FALSE START. 
 
 stable-keeper could compel him to dip into 
 it. He sat ruefully thinking over all this, 
 when Bessie, suddenly putting her hand on 
 his shoulder, exclaimed : 
 
 il Don't look so sad, Maurice, I quite for- 
 got to tell you I have a letter for you. Here 
 it is. I think it is from Mr. Grafton, and 
 have a presentiment it contains good news." 
 
 " Bob's letters, like your uncle's wedding 
 present, are a delusion and a snare," rejoined 
 Maurice, smiling. i( He said we were to 
 make our small fortunes in May, and that 
 remarkable quadruped, in which you are 
 half-proprietor, seemed to disappear below 
 the horizon immediately afterwards. How- 
 ever, let us see what he says. 
 
 li Dear Maurice," so the letter began, — 
 "You must doubtless have wondered what 
 has become of the ( Wandering Nun.' At 
 Epsom she never put in an appearance, and
 
 HICHAKD MADINGLEY. 217 
 
 I suppose had succumbed to the mishaps 
 incidental in training : but I met a fellow 
 the other day who knows all about the stable, 
 and he tells me the only reason they did not 
 run her for the i Woodcotes ' was that they 
 did not consider her quite up to the mark. 
 
 " He tells me that she is all right now, 
 going on wonderfully well, and they expect 
 her to run away with the ' Chesterfields ' 
 next month. As I told you before, she 
 carries my pony whenever she does start, 
 and I fully expect to have a good look at 
 her at Newmarket, and I hope, a good deal 
 for your sake, to say nothing of a little of 
 my own, to see her win. My kind regards 
 to Mrs. Enderby, and tell her that I think 
 she will get the first instalment of Uncle 
 John's wedding present next month." 
 
 Maurice put this letter down on the table, 
 and, throwing himself down in his chair, 
 wondered if it would be possible to carry on
 
 218 A FALSE STAHT. 
 
 till this race should be decided. If anything 
 really came of it the meddling with Bessie's 
 settlement would be averted ; if nothing, it 
 was only doing then what he thought of 
 doing now.
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 
 
 Mr. Madingley's garden-party was a great 
 success. It was undoubtedly well done. 
 There was a cold collation laid out in the 
 dining-room, on which lobster mayonnaise, 
 prawns, chicken, and other delicacies were 
 flanked by champagne cup, iced coffee, &c. 
 Refreshments of a lighter description were 
 handed freely about the garden, and the 
 most had been made of the lawn-tennis 
 ground.
 
 220 A FALSE STAHT. 
 
 The ladies were enthusiastic in com- 
 plimenting their host upon the perfection 
 of his arrangements, and that young gentle- 
 man could assuredly not be accused of being 
 wanting in self-esteem. He replied that it 
 was all very well in a small way, " but 
 then, Mrs. Maddox, you must remember 
 what a box of a place it is." 
 
 "Why, it is one of the nicest houses of 
 the size in Tunnleton." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Mr. Madingley, 
 with an almost compassionate smile. " It 
 is as much as I can manage at present. 
 Between ourselves, my dear madam, I am 
 at present only an heir-presumptive, and 
 have not as yet come to my kingdom." 
 
 The young man lowered his tone as lie 
 made this latter speech as if taking Mrs. 
 Maddox into his special confidence, and the 
 good lady felt much flattered at the com- 
 pliment. It was a way Mr. Madingley had,
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 221 
 
 and it had stood him in good stead with 
 middle-aged matrons many a time. His 
 confidences were never of a nature that 
 the violation of them would occasion him 
 even a moment's annoyance, for he was a 
 young man wise in his generation, and 
 gifted with a cool calculating selfishness 
 that was likely to stand him in good stead 
 in his way through the world. Although 
 but five-and-twenty Richard Madingley was 
 already a keen crafty man of the world, 
 thoroughly conversant with all its dark 
 holes and dirty corners, with experiences 
 that would rather have astonished his guests 
 had they been acquainted with them. 
 
 " Our host has got rather a bit of side 
 on,' 7 observed General Praun to his par- 
 ticular crony General Maddox. 
 
 " Well, a good-looking young fellow giv- 
 ing a recherche entertainment of this kind
 
 222 A FALSE START. 
 
 to all the leading people in Tunnleton 
 naturally has that." 
 
 " He needn't have quite so much of it 
 though/' replied Praun, testily. He was 
 naturally of an irritable disposition, and had 
 met with a disappointment regarding a 
 second edition of lobster mayonnaise that 
 still festered in his mind. " Halloa, Kin- 
 nersley ! " he exclaimed to a young fellow 
 who entered the dining-room, clothed in 
 flannels and perspiration, evidently in search 
 of a beaker of something cooling, "how are 
 you getting on at the tennis-ground ? '' 
 
 " Capitally, but there are too many can- 
 didates for the courts. The ground is 
 strewn with Torkeslys, ' thick as leaves in 
 Vallombrosa,' and in their desire for a game 
 they are insatiable." 
 
 " Or what might probably come of a 
 game," muttered the irascible Praun, his 
 mind still harping on that little matter of
 
 THE GAKDEN PAttTY. 223 
 
 mayonnaise. " Ah, Jarrow ! " lie continued 
 aloud, " glad to see you ; glad you can 
 escape from your literary labours to take 
 part in an open-air junketing like this." 
 
 " One cannot be always at the desk/' 
 replied the rector, with an unctuous smile ; 
 " and just at present I am not engaged in 
 demolishing a sophist. I have no doubt it 
 will not be long before I am compelled to 
 take up the pen again. The propagators 
 of specious fallacies are manifold in the 
 land." 
 
 11 Have some chicken and cold tongue, 
 Mr. Jarrow," interposed young Kinnersley, 
 taking a practical view if not a particularly 
 high one of the situation. He was always 
 a little alarmed when, in his irreverent 
 vernacular, the rector had got his literary 
 stop on. 
 
 Mr. Jarrow yielded to the seduction, and
 
 224 A FALSE STA11T. 
 
 ceasing his literary pretensions, abandoned 
 himself to the luncheon-table. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Maddox and Mrs. Praun 
 were engaged in a real confidential gossip 
 under a tree in the tennis-ground. Neither 
 lady having daughters of her own, the over- 
 powering presence of the Misses Torkesly 
 did not occasion them much uneasiness. 
 They had made a spiteful remark or two 
 about it to each other, and then lightly 
 passed over the subject. 
 
 " I see the Enderbys are not here," ob- 
 served Mrs. Praun, " I can quite understand 
 a young man like Mr. Madingley not being 
 able to put up with his conceited overbear- 
 ing manner." 
 
 " Yes ; indeed, the general was quite 
 against my calling on them, but I thought 
 it right to do so. I have a great respect 
 for the Church, and invariably stretch out 
 my hand to welcome even its juniors when
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 225 
 
 they come here ; I have always felt it my 
 duty to be kind to the young people. In 
 India, my dear, when the general was 
 colonel of the district, I alwavs called on 
 all the subalterns' wives.' ' 
 
 So she did, dear good lady, and mightily 
 the subalterns' wives enjoyed it. She gene- 
 rally read them a severe lecture on economy, 
 and doing their duty in that state of life 
 in which they found themselves — winding 
 up that their husbands might possibly be- 
 come colonels in the course of years, and 
 they themselves blossom even into such a 
 one as herself. That visit completed, she 
 seldom took further notice of them. 
 
 "There are rumours about the Enderbys,'' 
 said Mrs. Praun; " but I dare say," she 
 continued, doubtfully, " you have heard 
 them, my dear." 
 
 u I don't quite understand you," rejoined 
 
 Mrs. Maddox, drawing her bonnet consider- 
 vol. I. Q
 
 226 A FALSE START. 
 
 ably closer to her companion's. " You mean 
 
 " Just so," replied Mrs. Praun ; " but you 
 know they do say " 
 
 " Exactly ; there's nothing wrong about 
 their marriage, is there ? " 
 
 "No! no! my dear, it's not that. I 
 thought you had heard — you know I'm not 
 a tattler, and perhaps I ought not to tell 
 you," — (what a provoking thing she is, mut- 
 tered Mrs. Maddox, in a fever of curiosity) 
 — " for it is whispered that Mr. Enderby 
 is getting very much into debt in the town. 
 I happened to hear that the tradespeople 
 have great trouble in getting their money." 
 
 " Well, I always did say," returned Mrs. 
 Maddox, " that they had no business to 
 take that house ; I always thought it was 
 quite beyond their means, or that of most 
 curates." 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I hope it won't get about;
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 227 
 
 let us hope it isn't true. I know, my dear, 
 I can rely upon your not mentioning it. 
 And as for me, as I said before, I am no 
 tattler." 
 
 It is to be presumed that the good ladies 
 honestly meant what they said, and yet, 
 strange to say, within eight-and-forty hours 
 it began to be whispered through Tunnleton 
 that Mr. Enderby was in difficulties. The 
 tradespeople — to do them justice— said little 
 about it, but these things generally leak out 
 in some inconceivable manner. Two or 
 three of the leading shopkeepers had, no 
 doubt, called upon Maurice lately, and urged 
 respectfully that they should like something 
 on account, but Enderby adhered to his 
 resolution and only said : " Wait till the end 
 of next month." This was his invariable 
 reply. From that time Maurice began to 
 scan the sporting papers with an eagerness 
 somewhat unbecoming his profession ; al- 
 Q2
 
 228 A FALSE START. 
 
 though he had never in the least taken up 
 racing, it would be absurd to suppose that a 
 University man of his stamp had never seen 
 a Derby run, or was totally ignorant of 
 horse-racing. There are thousands of En- 
 glishmen who never bet, who never go near 
 a racecourse, and affect no knowledge of the 
 calendar, but who yet know the names of all 
 the leading cracks of the turf, and take an 
 interest as to what may win the half-dozen 
 big races of the season. 
 
 We are a horse-loving nation and cannot 
 help feeling a curiosity as to the deeds of 
 our equine heroes remotely approaching to 
 that which we feel in that of our soldiers and 
 sailors. I suppose there never was a club in 
 which a certain number of the members did 
 not talk of horse-racing, and the Tunnleton 
 club was no exception. Maurice had at first 
 stood aloof from this section of the com- 
 munity, which as a rule haunted the billiard-
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 229 
 
 room. He had, to begin with, not thought 
 it quite right to look into that room much, 
 and secondly their talk had little interest for 
 him ; but now all this was changed, he was 
 beginning to feel an absorbing interest in 
 racing, and could not help listening to the 
 lore that fell from the lips of these young 
 gentlemen, although feeling in his heart that 
 they knew little about it. You must not 
 blame Maurice Enderby, and argue that a 
 man who had embraced his profession had 
 no business to let his thoughts be absorbed 
 about the turf. Remember he is a man sore 
 beset for money, and who, by no act of his 
 own, suddenly finds himself in the position 
 of half-owner of what he is told is a " flying 
 two-year old." It would not be in human 
 nature to abstain from looking forward to 
 the success of that filly as some relief from 
 his necessities. 
 
 But gradually he got so accustomed to
 
 230 A FALSE START. 
 
 drop into the billiard-room and talk racing, 
 that it was no wonder the men with whom he 
 gossiped forgot his cloth and offered to bet 
 with him. It is true he always laughingly 
 refused, but there were naturally other fre- 
 quenters of the room besides the sporting 
 knot of which we have been speaking. 
 General Maddox and General Praun rarely 
 unbent so much as to look in there, but a 
 rumour spread about the club, which of 
 course speedily reached their ears, that Mr. 
 Enderby took a strange interest in turf 
 affairs ; then one or two of the staid, steady 
 old pool-players had heard Maurice offered a 
 bet, and that this little bit of scandal should 
 (in repetition) have been turned into had 
 taken a bet was not very extraordinary. 
 Before the Newmarket July Meeting took 
 place, Maurice, little as he knew it, had 
 achieved the reputation of gambling on 
 horse-racing. There are many quiet-going
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 231 
 
 people who regard a man who has made a 
 small bet upon a horse-race as going rapidly 
 to the dogs, and it was not to be supposed 
 that Tunnleton was not leavened by people 
 of this description ; and when the rumour of 
 Maurice's supposed misdeeds reached their 
 ears the feeling against him would be likely 
 to run very high in the town. 
 
 Young Madingiey had rapidly constituted 
 himself almost the principal figure in the 
 sporting coterie. He had evidently been 
 racing, while most of the others only talked 
 about it, and there was no doubt had con- 
 siderable knowledge of the subject. He it 
 was who had offered to bet with Maurice 
 Enderby. There was an instinctive anti- 
 pathy between the two men, and till Maurice 
 got so anxious about the advent of the 
 " Wandering Nun " they had scarcely ex- 
 changed twenty words, but now a common 
 interest bound them together.
 
 232 A FALSE START. 
 
 It was the Saturday before the July meet- 
 ing, and Maurice could not resist dropping 
 into the club in the afternoon to hear what 
 might be the latest opinions and reports con- 
 cerning the forthcoming week's racing. 
 
 The sporting papers had all arrived from 
 town, and those that only appeared every 
 seventh day had to sum up, and speak with 
 authority as to what were to be the runners 
 of the principal races. Most of these put 
 down the " Chesterfields " to a very smart 
 two-year-old called Bajazet, who had been 
 only just beaten for the New Stakes at Ascot, 
 though some two or three of them asserted, 
 " that there was a rumoured dark filly in 
 Osborne's stable that might take a good deal 
 of beating." Those connected with the 
 stable believed " The Wandering Nun " to 
 be a veritable flyer. 
 
 Mr. Madingley pooh-poohed Maurice's sug- 
 gestion that this might possibly prove the
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 233 
 
 victor of the " Chesterfields," and Maurice for 
 the first time betrayed his interest in a par- 
 ticular [race. Hitherto he had talked over 
 racing generally, but this time he had ven- 
 tured an opinion, and what was more a 
 tolerably decided one. 
 
 Richard Madingley noticed it quick as 
 lightning, and turning to him, said, 
 
 "You seem interested in the 'Chester- 
 fields/ Enderby? I'll make you a small 
 bet, or for the matter of that a big one. I 
 will lay you two to one in pounds or to 
 money, that 'Bajazet' beats the * Wandering 
 Nun' wherever they finish." 
 
 For a moment the blood rushed to Mau- 
 rice's temples, and, although he had never 
 done such a thing before, a strange longing 
 came over him to reply — 
 
 si Done in hundreds ! '' 
 
 It was not so much the words, as the con- 
 temptuous tone in which Madingley's speech
 
 234 A FALSE STAKT. 
 
 was uttered, but he swallowed his anger 
 with a great gulp, and replied coldly — 
 
 st I never bet, Mr. Madingley," and the 
 strange inflexion on the " Mr." marked his 
 resentment at that gentleman's familiarity in 
 addressing him without the prefix. " Neither 
 my profession nor my circumstances admit 
 of such indulgence, and, had you reflected 
 before you spoke, you might have known to 
 offer a bet to a man of my cloth was as much 
 empty bluster as calling upon him to fight a 
 duel." 
 
 And with this Maurice turned abruptly 
 upon his heel and left the room. 
 
 " Eather rose the parson," said Dick 
 Madingley. " Never bets, indeed! Super- 
 cilious young prig ! he lias got a fiver or 
 tenner on < The Wandering Nun' I'll go 
 bail ! " 
 
 His remark fell somewhat flat, and he 
 could see, by the faces of his companions,
 
 THE GARDEN PARTY. 235 
 
 that they looked upon him as very properly 
 snubbed. 
 
 " You had no business to offer to bet with 
 him, Dick," said young Kinnersley, " En- 
 derby's a good fellow, and a straight one. I 
 dare say he punted a bit when he was at 
 college, and naturally can't help watching 
 the old game a little in the papers, and likes 
 to have a chat about it ; but I certainly don't 
 agree with you that he does anything of the 
 kind now." 
 
 " Parsons are not all saints, as you will 
 find out, Kinnersley, when you have seen a 
 little more of the world," rejoined Mading- 
 ley, with an air of insufferable superiority ; 
 and from that out he honoured Maurice 
 Enderby with a rancorous hatred. From 
 that out the curate carefully refrained from 
 joining the billiard-room coterie. But it 
 was too late ; the scandal had gone forth, 
 and slowly the story was permeating Tunnle-
 
 236 A FALSE START. 
 
 ton that Mr. Enderby spent the best part of 
 his time at the club, talking racing, and, un- 
 luckily, did not confine himself to merely 
 talking, but was given to backing his 
 opinion, which would easily account for his 
 inability to pay his tradespeople.
 
 237 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 
 
 The rumour that Mr. Enclerby had taken to 
 betting, and that the money which should 
 have gone to his tradesmen was being 
 frittered away in Turf speculation, having at 
 length reached the ears of Generals Maddox 
 and Praun, it naturally had come to the 
 knowledge of those great conservators of the 
 morals of Tunnleton, their spouses — and those 
 two matrons at once agreed that it behoved 
 them to take steps of some kind. The only
 
 238 A FALSE START. 
 
 question was what shape should their inter- 
 ference be couched in. They talked this 
 over between themselves for some time. 
 Was it their duty to go direct to the Reverend 
 Jacob Jarrow, and acquaint him with his 
 curate's backsliding ? or should they spare 
 him in the first place, and content themselves 
 with administering a lecture to Mrs Enderby, 
 which she could, and no doubt would, pass 
 on to her husband. 
 
 This, after all, struck the two ladies as 
 the more congenial form of doing their duty 
 towards their neighbours, and so they re- 
 solved to call upon Bessie. 
 
 It was easy to time their call so as to find 
 Maurice away from home. Tuesday after- 
 noon, for instance, he was always engaged 
 at the parish schools, and on that afternoon 
 accordingly the two matrons laid hands on 
 the Enderbys' knocker. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Enderby was at home," re-
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 239 
 
 plied the neat little servant-maid. u Would 
 the ladies walk up ? " 
 
 Bessie received her visitors with a gaiety 
 she was far from feeling. She was, in truth, 
 very uncomfortable about their increasing 
 liabilities, although she endeavoured to show 
 it even to her husband as little as possible. 
 The story of the young Spartan with the 
 fox beneath his cloak is an everyday occur- 
 ence, as would speedily be made manifest 
 were the cloaks removed. In the meantime 
 society demands that we keep our troubles 
 to ourselves, and look as if we had not a 
 care upon our minds. 
 
 The usual formalities that form the pre- 
 liminaries of a conventional call were gone 
 through, and then the two ladies exchanged 
 glances, which, being interpreted, mean, 
 which of us is to open fire ? A significant 
 nod from Mrs. Praun settled the question,
 
 240 A FALSE START. 
 
 and then Mrs. Maddox lifted her voice and 
 spoke — 
 
 " We have got something to say to you 
 which it is only right you should hear, Mrs. 
 En derby. It's a painful story to have to tell 
 a young wife, but Mrs. Praun and myself 
 have come to the conclusion that you are 
 sure to hear of it sooner or later, and it 
 would be kinder to break it to you at once." 
 
 " What is it ? What do you mean ? " 
 cried Bessie, utterly bewildered, and dread- 
 ing she knew not what. 
 
 " The fact is," said Mrs. Maddox, and 
 here she paused impressively. 
 
 " Speak ! Good Heavens ! Can't you 
 speak ? " cried Bessie, excitedly. 
 
 "Your husband has taken to betting on 
 horse-racing ! " 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " cried Bessie. " He 
 has never done such a thing since he was 
 married; and I am certain he would not now
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 241 
 
 that he has adopted the Church as a pro- 
 fession." 
 
 "I only wish it were so," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Praun, el and it is because he in- 
 dulges in this infatuation that he finds it 
 difficult to meet his creditors' demands." 
 
 But the two ladies had a little over- 
 estimated the weakness of the curate's wife. 
 Bessie sprang to her feet, and said — 
 
 " Of course, I do not know where you 
 have obtained your information ; but I tell 
 you the whole thing is most infamously un- 
 true. 
 
 " I assure you, Mrs. Enderby, the rumour 
 is all over Tunnleton." 
 
 " And I do not care if the rumour is all 
 over England ! it is still false — shamefully, 
 disgracefully, untrue. You have thought 
 proper, madam, to insinuate that we do not 
 meet our liabilities. Our private affairs arc, 
 I presume, matters which in no way concern 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A FALSE START. 
 
 you. My husband, you may depend, will 
 trace the falsehood to its originator, and 
 •make him answer for it in somewise ! " 
 
 " Oh, well," said Mrs. Maddox, as she 
 rose to her feet, her very skirts rustling with 
 indignation, "if this is the way you treat 
 friends, anxious to warn you of a coming 
 peril, and who came here to beseech you to 
 use your influence with your husband to turn 
 him from his fatal courses " 
 
 " Fatal courses!" cried Bessie; "I tell 
 you this miserable story is untrue. My hus- 
 band will know how to defend himself when 
 the charge comes to his ears, as it will the 
 moment he comes home. The originators as 
 well as the disseminators of this scandal had 
 then better look to themselves, for if I know 
 Maurice he is far from being the man to 
 rest quiet under an imputation of this kind." 
 
 " Oh, well," exclaimed Mrs. Maddox, with 
 an angry toss of her head, "if our motives
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 243 
 
 are so utterly misunderstood I think we had 
 better be going. It is evident, Mrs. Praun, 
 that we are of no use here. Grood-bye, Mrs. 
 Enderby . I think when you have recovered 
 your temper you will be more ready to ap- 
 preciate our reasons for calling on you." 
 
 " You are not the first wife, Mrs. Enderby," 
 said Mrs. Praun, "who has been deceived by 
 her husband and awoke one morning to find 
 him a very different man from what she 
 imagined him. Good morning." 
 
 u We will make it good-bye, if you 
 please," said Bessie, quietly, as she rang the 
 bell for the maid to usher out her visitors, 
 and if ever two ladies had departed from a 
 house with ruffled plumes it was now. 
 
 "A chit of a curate's wife!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Maddox, still almost snorting with 
 indignation. 
 
 " She has actually had the audacity to 
 
 close her acquaintance with us," said Mrs. 
 r2
 
 244 A FALSE START. 
 
 Praun, in a voice that trembled with sup- 
 pressed passion ; " the little rninx shall soon 
 see what that means in Tunnleton." 
 
 Bessie threw herself back in her chair 
 with flushed cheeks and heaving breast 
 when her unwelcome visitors had departed. 
 
 "I didn't believe/' she muttered, "that 
 two women could have been so rude to me 
 in my own drawing-room as they have been ; 
 as for their foolish charge against Maurice, 
 thank Heaven I feel no anxiety about that ; 
 I know too well it is false. I wonder if it 
 is possible to make a more spiteful remark 
 than Mrs. Praun did as she left the room. 
 However,*' contiuued Bessie, with a low 
 laugh, "I don't think they are likely to 
 trouble me again." 
 
 Maurice was very late returning home 
 that day, and the reason of it was this : he 
 had finished his work at the schools when 
 he recollected that the July Stakes were run
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 245 
 
 on that afternoon, and that there might 
 also be some betting upon the " Chester- 
 fields " telegraphed from Newmarket. He 
 determined to look in at the club and see 
 what news the telegram had brought. It 
 was the moth hovering round the candle. 
 As he had walked home on the previous 
 Saturday he had reflected with dismay that 
 he was beginning to take an interest in 
 horse-racing incompatible with his pro- 
 fession. He recognised that it was growing 
 upon him, that it was absorbing him more 
 and more ; he could even imagine the fasci- 
 nation of the pursuit leading him at last to 
 speculating in money on the correctness of 
 his own judgment. He was a shrewd, clear- 
 headed man, and since he had taken to the 
 close study of the sporting intelligence it 
 had interested him as men are interested 
 by double acrostics or other ingenious 
 puzzles. He had set himself to discover
 
 246 A FALSE START. 
 
 from their previous performances, and what 
 he could pick up concerning them in the 
 papers, which horse would be victorious in 
 any important race shortly coming off, and, 
 as is frequently the case with neophytes, 
 had been rather fortunate in his predictions. 
 It was true he had prudence enough to keep 
 these mental speculations to himself, and the 
 Tunnleton Club was quite unaware of the 
 new prophet in their midst. It was well it 
 was so ; the interest he had avowed in turf 
 matters had already done him sufficient 
 harm, did he but know it. He had vowed 
 to himself on Saturday to set foot in the 
 billiard-room no more ; but the telegram 
 would be in the hall. There could be no 
 harm in just looking at it : and, comforting 
 himself with this little bit of sophistry, 
 Maurice ran up the club steps. 
 
 Deviate a hand's-breadth from your good 
 resolutions and you will find your evil
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 247 
 
 genius with malignant grin prompt to take 
 advantage of your frailty, and it was so 
 upon this occasion. 
 
 In the hall, and gathered round the tele- 
 gram-board, were Dick Madingley, young 
 Kinnersley, and others of the sporting spirits 
 of the Tunnleton Club, and naturally they 
 were discussing the day's doings at New- 
 market with no little animation. Maurice 
 found himself in the middle of this group 
 almost before he was aware of it. 
 
 " Well, Mister Enderby," exclaimed 
 Madingley, who was one of those pachy- 
 dermatous young gentlemen on whom sar- 
 casm has no more effect than a shower of 
 rain has on a duck, cl I see they are backing 
 your fancy for the c Chesterfields ' pretty 
 freely ; hope you'll have a good race, which 
 is at all events disinterested on my part, 
 because if you do I shan't.' 1 
 
 " I told you on Saturday, Mr. Madingley,
 
 248 A FALSE START. 
 
 that I never bet on horse-racing, and I am 
 in the habit of saying what I mean," and 
 so saying Maurice, without even looking at 
 the telegram, passed on towards the reading- 
 room. 
 
 " All right, your reverence," retorted 
 Dick, "mum's the word as far as I'm 
 concerned." 
 
 "You're too bad, Madingley. Your last 
 speech was that of a regular cad," said 
 young Kinnersley. 
 
 " If that's your opinion, Mr. Kinnersley, 
 the sooner our acquaintance ceases the 
 better." 
 
 " As you like," replied Fred Kinnersley, 
 turning on his heel ; and the dead silence 
 that fell upon the group suddenly awoke 
 Madingley to the fact that he had gone a 
 little too far. 
 
 As General Shrewster said, there was a 
 cross-drop in young Madingley, and when
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 249 
 
 that is the case with a man it never shows 
 itself so conclusively as when he has a little 
 drink aboard of him. 
 
 He had been lounging in the hall, waiting 
 for the telegram, and killing the time with 
 divers sherry and bitter ; if it had not been 
 for these, added to the elation of having 
 won a bit of money over " the Julys," he 
 would hardly have so far forgotten himself 
 as to make the offensive remarks he had to 
 Maurice Enderby. But he had the wit to 
 see that the feeling of his immediate coterie 
 was all in favour of Kinnersley, and not 
 of himself. The former was a straight- 
 forward popular young fellow throughout 
 Tunnleton, and that he was right in the 
 slight altercation which had taken place 
 between him and Madingley did not admit 
 of a doubt. The latter said no more at the 
 moment, but jumped off the table upon 
 which he had been sitting in arrogant indo-
 
 250 A FALSE START. 
 
 lence, and made his way out of the club- 
 house without further observation. 
 
 " Confound that fiery sherry," he mut- 
 tered, as he strolled homeward. " What an 
 idiot I was to drink so much of it! The 
 committee ought to be indicted for keeping 
 such atrocious alcohol on the premises. I 
 shall have to tell Kinnersley to-morrow that 
 I didn't mean what I said ; that it was all 
 the sherry, and ask him to shake hands. I 
 can't well afford to quarrel with him ; as for 
 that clerical prig I hate him ! and what does 
 he take such an extraordinary interest in 
 turf affairs for if he don't bet ? " 
 
 Maurice in the meantime had gone into 
 the morning-room, and was destined there 
 to encounter that first straw which shows 
 the way the wind is blowing. Old Praun 
 was there, fussing and fuming, as was his 
 wont, but no sooner did he espy Maurice 
 than a malicious twinkle came into his
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 251 
 
 fishy grey eyes, and, rising from his chair, 
 he began to fidget about with his papers. 
 A few seconds, and he threw the " Sports- 
 man " across to Maurice, saying — 
 
 " Dear me, I can't think what has become 
 of the c World.' However, anyway, I have 
 found something in your way, Mr. Enderby." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Maurice quietly, 
 " I'm sorry you should have given yourself 
 such unnecessary trouble." 
 
 " Not at all ! not at all ! " returned the 
 general ; " but I understand that you are 
 much interested in such matters." 
 
 Maurice made no answer, but took up one 
 of the daily papers. In good truth he did 
 not know how to reply to General Praun's 
 innuendo : he was conscious that he had of 
 late been manifesting an unseemly interest 
 in horse-racing. The gibes of Dick Mading- 
 ley in the billiard-room on Saturday had 
 first opened his eyes to the fact that this
 
 252 A FALSE START. 
 
 hobby of his was exciting comment, and this 
 mock courtesy of General Praun, whom he 
 knew disliked him, showed him only too 
 clearly that his eager reading of the sport- 
 ing papers had attracted both attention and 
 adverse criticism. He would have no more 
 of it; from this time such papers should 
 remain a sealed book to him ; he would 
 carefully eschew all conversation with the 
 sporting coterie and content himself with an 
 occasional peep at the racing intelligence of 
 the " Times." Even that, he thought to 
 himself, it would be better to pass over ; but 
 Maurice, although possessing plenty of de- 
 termination, was conscious of human frailty. 
 He knew to read the •' Times," and care- 
 fully abstain from looking at the racing 
 intelligence, would be beyond him, and 
 then, as he sat there staring at his paper 
 without comprehending one line of it, 
 another thought flashed across his brain.
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 253 
 
 If this Mr. Madingley was heir to old John 
 Madingley of Bingwell, it was very odd 
 that he should not be more accurately 
 informed about the presumed merits of "The 
 Wandering Nun." In his position, and 
 his evidently pronounced taste for the turf, 
 it was singular he should not take more 
 interest in his relative's stable. One would 
 have expected to find him enthusiastic about 
 her chance of success, instead of which he 
 persistently ran down her claims. Maurice 
 was older in thought than in years, and it 
 struck him that the few friends he had who 
 possessed relatives that kept race- horses 
 were wont to be over-sanguine about the 
 prospects of those distinguished animals ; 
 and then he threw down his paper and 
 started on his way home. 
 
 Bessie jumped up to welcome him as lie 
 entered the drawing-room. 
 
 " I am so glad you have returned, dear.
 
 254 A FALSE START. 
 
 My house has been invaded by the two most 
 offensive women it has ever been my lot 
 to encounter. I did not think it possible 
 that two ladies could be so rude as Mrs. 
 Maddox and Mrs. Praun were to me 
 to-day." 
 
 Maurice kissed his wife as he said, C( Sit 
 down, little woman, and tell me all about 
 it." 
 
 And then Bessie told him the story of her 
 two visitors of the afternoon, and how they 
 had dared to assert that he, Maurice, was 
 behindhand with his tradespeople because 
 he was frittering his income away in betting 
 on horse-racing. " I told them," she con- 
 tinued, vehemently, " it was an infamous 
 falsehood — a falsehood that you were likely 
 to make those who promulgated it pay 
 dearly for — of course it is not true, 
 Maurice ? "
 
 BITTER TONGUES. 255 
 
 " No, I have never bet on a horse-race, 
 Bessie, since I married you, and very sel- 
 dom, and in a very mild way, before. I 
 have had follies enough, goodness knows, 
 but that has not been one of them. Still, 
 Bessie, I have been much to blame ; I have 
 given a handle to the scandal from my im- 
 prudent hankering after sporting news, aris- 
 ing from that luckless wedding gift of Uncle 
 John's. The animal of which you are half 
 owner is to run the day after to-morrow at 
 Newmarket, and its success might mean two 
 or three hundred pounds to us, and just 
 think what a handful that would be under 
 present circumstances." 
 
 " Yes, Maurice dear, but recollect you 
 were just as sanguine in May, and nothing 
 came of it. I am very grieved that you 
 have given those women even a handle for 
 their falsehoods. I wish Uncle John had
 
 256 A FALSE START. 
 
 sent me a hundred pounds instead of making 
 me such an eccentric present.'' 
 
 " Perhaps it might have been better, and 
 after this week I'll try and forget it." 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 * 
 
 Westminster : Printed by Nichols and Sons, 25, Parliament Street.
 
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