c» . -■ r^ ii t »i - i r^m i n r^. mv- > %M » ^r- t %^y-* ' » H* i r-> i^ i iy^b un i^ rn f | |Bitjii i tj Al^^o/ ready ^ in extra cloth binding, THE CHEAP ILLUSTRATED EDITlOr By HABLOT K. BROWNE ("PHIZ"), OF CHARLES LEVER'S WORK: The culicv-Lccl \» uiks of Charles Lever in a Uniform Seri must, like the Novels of Scott, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, ai Anthony Trollope, find a place on the shelves of every well-selcctt library. N'^ modern productions of fiction have gained a great reputation for their writer : few authors equal him in the humoi-r ai spirit of his delineations of character, and none surpass him for live desc: !pti\c power and never-flagging story. THREE-AND-SIXPENCE JACK HINTOU - HARRY lORREQUER THE O'BOIfO&HUE THE EORTTOES OE &LEIfCORE BARRISaTOI - ITITTRELL OF ARRAII SIR JASPER CAREW ^ MAURICE TIERNAY A DAY'S RIDE OlfE OP TEEM A RENT n A CIOTJD ancl\ ST, PATRICK'S EYE - j EACH. 1 6 Illustration 1 6 Illustration: 1 6 Illustration; Frontispiece. 1 6 Illustrationi 1 6 Illustralionj Frontispiece. Frontispiece. Frontispiece, 1 6 lUustrationi 1 6 Illustration* hlVE SHILLINGS CHARLES O'MALIEY - THE DALTOifS KneHT OE &WYNHE - THE DOBL EAMILY ABROAD TOM BURKE OE ^^OURS'^ DAYEKPORT DUNN ROLAND CASHED MARTINS OE CRO' MARTIN EACH. i\ Illustrationj 24 Illustrationf 24 Illustration^ 24 Illustrations 24 Illustration 24 Iliustratioi 24 lllustratio 24 lilustratir (20) London : CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, Piccadilly. j » | > r^ c-*ar^rj »_i »)i r His request was complied with, and the party drew round the fire, which was roaring up the chimney. As Eube concluded this eulogy on the THE GRANGE. 17 fog, the door opened, and Lawrence Blake walked in. " Good evening, Mr. Blake," said mine host ; " good evening to you, sir." Job Baxter was always very civil to the Squire's gamekeeper. It was politic on his part, because the latter strongly suspected him of organized raids on his feathered charges. "What will you take, Mr. Blake?" con- tinued Baxter ; " something hot, this cold night, sir?" " Brandy, neat," said Blake ; " give me brandy." His tone was so sepulchral, that Baxter ventured to remark, "Bean't you well, Mr. Blake?" "Ask no questions, and you'll hear no lies," fiercely retorted the gamekeeper. Job saw that Blake was in one of his VOL. I. 2 IS FEN ACRE GRANGE. sullen moods that niglit, moods in which he would continue for days together, and when spoken to, fly out with the ferocity of a tiger on his questioner. Seeing the innkeeper still looking askant at him, Blake continued : " Confound you fellow ! don't you hear ? Give me some brandy." When the spirit was brought, he drank it off at one gulp, and set the glass down with a force on the bar- counter that shivered it to atoms, and without another word, stalked out of the taproom. " He's a rum un," said the landlord, as he left the apartment — " and no mistake." " Dev'lish rum !" was the universal chorus ; then followed a silence. *' Do you think he comed in here a-look- ing arter us, think ye ?" said Rube to Baxter ; " think ye he did ?" I THE GRANGE. 19 " Think !" said tlie landlord, '' I m sure I" " I seed him a looking this way," said Joe Withers, a tall white-faced man in a blue guernsey ; "I seed him a-looking at Eube Eue." A loud laugh followed this sally of Joe's. " Let him look," said Eube ; " I don't care if he do." We must here apologize for Eube's unpar- liamentary language, which is more forcible than polite ; mats que voulez-vous ? We are writing a scene in a public-house, and for the benefit of those who have never been in one, I say that that is how the wicked and misguided men who do frequent them, do talk ! It's a pity, but nevertheless true ! The clock over the bar struck twelve, and the door opened and an individual the Great Unwashed term a " Bobby," entered. " Time to close. Job," said the guardian 2—2 20 FENACRE GRANGE. of the night. " You're past hours, as usual. You'll lose your licence next magistrates' meeting, if I have to report you again for keeping your house open after hours ! Clear out, my lads,'' he said, as he turned to Rube and his party ; " clear out — time's up !" Baxter had been what he and his _pais, or for the benefit of ears polite, confreres, termed in trouble lately ; so he quietly seconded the policeman in clearing the house, and after a few minutes the tap-room was empty, and Baxter and Roberts (92 X) were left alone. " I've heard shots on the waste to-night, Mr. Baxter," said Roberts; ''you'd better mind what you're about, I can tell you ; it bodes no good finding Reuben Rue and those chaps here so late at night ; have a care, or you'll be ' in trouble ' again. That Rube," said the policeman, warming with his sub- ject, " that Rube is the most malingering THE GRANGE. 21 villain in all Fenacre. I have had my eye on him for some time past ; I ain't sure yet, but I have my suspicions — I have my suspi- cions/' With this mystic speech Eoberts left the Hoy. "Oh! you 'have your suspicions/ have you, Mr. Eoberts," said Baxter with a sneer, when the door was closed ; " then have 'em/' With this cutting speech. Job turned off the gas and stumbled up the crooked, un- even stairs which led to his bedroom, and was soon fast locked in the arms of Mor- pheus. The next morning the fog had all rolled away, and the sun shone brightly on the water-covered marshes. Webster, the butler at the Grange, had knocked in vain at his master's door, and receiving no answer, concluded Sir Richard was " sleeping it off," as he termed it. 22 FEN ACRE GRANGE. "Have some tea ready, Mrs. Blake," said Webster, when he went into the house- keeper's room ; " I shouldn't be surprised if poor master had a headache this morning. Lord ! how he do drink, to be sure. Well, he has to bear the ' hot coppers,' not me, that's one comfort. I think every man as drinks is a fool — I do ; it gives him a headache, it makes him disagreeable to his friends and the laughingstock of his foes ; it muddles his brains, and filches away his memory. A man may run away with his neighbour's wife, and come back when he's tired of her to his own, and yet be re- ceived in the * best of families :' if he drinks it's all ' UP ' with him ; it makes him per- sonally obnoxious, and that's where the secret lies. Folks is so selfish, that as long as a man's vices don't obtrude themselves into their company, they don't care a screw what THE GRANGE. 23 he does behind their backs. ' 'Tain't right and moral/ as the old woman said when she beat her husband but it's the w'ay of the world !" " Law ! You have got the ' gift of the gab/ Mr. Webster/' said Mrs. Blake, when the butler concluded his harangue ; " that you have !" " Yes, Mrs. Blake," said Webster, with humility; "Providence has so endowed me. "Morning, mother," said Lawrence, the gamekeeper, as he entered ; " morning, Mr. Webster." " Good morning to you, Lawrence," said the butler, with a patronizing air. "Do you expect good sport for Sir Richard and his friends to-night ?" Lawrence turned rather pale, and replied hurriedly — 24 FENACRE GRANGE. "Eh, good enougli — good enough, sir !" " I wonder what makes Sir Ricliard sleep so hard this morning? I didn't get my usual glass at the bottom of his second bottle last night. Perhaps that accounts for it. Ill go and try his door again." . Directly he left the room, Lawrence walked up to his mother and said, " If you are asked where I am to-day, say I've gone up to London, and will be back again to- night, in time for Sir Richard and his friends." With these words he left the room. " Lawks, Mrs. Blake ! Sir Eichard ain't slept in his bed last night ; he went out on the waste last night ; and it's the most probablest thing that he upset his boat and has got drownded." In one breath did the worthy butler say THE GRANGE. 25 these words, and stood with eyes wide open and mouth askant at the housekeeper. " Oh, my poor dear master," sobbed the housekeeper. "My dear, dear Eichard," she added in an under tone, " and is this the end of one I once adored and loved !" " Mrs. Blake, marm, you don't know what you are talking about ; grief has distorted your intellects." "Yes," said Mrs. Blake, with a start,- " yes, it was wrong of me, and very foolish ; but oh ! Mr. Webster, you don't know — you don't know, how " {sob) — " how I loved him and he me, once /" " No, marm, I don't ! " replied the butler; "and I don't want to." Just then one of the grooms rushed into the room, and exclaimed, " Lord-a-mercy ! Sir Eichard has been found in an open boat in the creek, by Bill Halls, shot dead in the 26 FENACRE GRANGE. back ! Bill *ave taken the body to the Hoy — you must come down, Mr. Webster ! Oh Lor ! who could have done it ? If it were that rascal Eube Eue, he'll be banged at last, anyhow !" Mrs. Blake now fell down in a veritable fainting fit, and, after calling the maids, Mr. Webster hurried, as fast as his legs could propel his somewhat fat and round body, to the Hoy. The taproom was full of loungers as he arrived breathless at the door. " Sad news, Mr. Webster ! sad news ! — poor Sir Eichard !" they all exclaimed. " I expect this is some of Eube Eue's work." CHAPTEE II. AT THE ELDORADO. We wither from our youth, we gasp away, Sick- — sick ; unfound the boon — unslak'd the thirst. Though to the last, in verge of our decay. Some Phantom lures, such as we thought at first, But all too late, — so we are doubly curst. Love, Fame, Ambition, Avarice, 'tis the same. Each idle, and all ill, and none the worst, For all are meteors with a different name. And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame." Byeon. YE'NING paper ! Evening p'per ! 'orrible murder on the h'Essex marshes. Eve'ning p per! Star, Sta^idard^emdi Daily Tele — graph I Eve'ning paper !" Such was the cry which greeted Lord 28 FENACRE GRANGE. Henry Fitzreine and Major Mandarin as tliey drove up in a hansom to the Fen church- street station, with a whole paraphernalia of shooting apparatus and a couple of spaniels. "By Jove ! Queen, old boy," said Manda- rin, " it's old three-bottle Fenacre 1" *'The dooce it is!" said Queen; ''then it's no use us going down, to the * Grange ' to shoot. Hoigb ! you fellow there !" he shouted to the cabman who had brought them down from the regions of clubdom ; " take us back to the ' Tag !' " " To the Tag " is a talismanic sentence that rejoices the heart of a cabman. He knows it means a full fare and something over, and he drives up to the pavement with a kind of spatter and dash to show his alacrity, very different from what he answers the summons of the old women with the " reticules " in hand who want to go over AT THE ELDORADO. 29 the whole domain of " E. Y.W. Henderson," for sixpence ! Arrived at the Tag, Lord Henry and the Major ordered a little dinner. "I'm dev'lish cut up about poor Fenacre/' said Major Mandarin. " So am I," said Queen. " That fellow had the best wildfowl shooting in all Eng- land, by Jove he had !" After this panegyric to the manes of the departed, the two sat in solemn silence and imbibed their sherry with an air of resig- nation. " I wonder who did it," at length re- marked Mandarin. "So do I," said Lord Henry. " I shouldn't be surprised if it was those poachers — by Jove, I'd bet a ' pony' it was !" " Make it a ' monkey' and I'll take you," said Lord Henry. 30 FENACRE GRANGE. "Done !" said the Major. " Done !" repeated his friend. The two worthies then pulled out their books and began to write. "I bet Queen a monkey that the poachers shot Fenacre," read the Major, aloud. "I bet Mandarin ditto they didn't," read Lord Henry. " Quits, if it was the gamekeeper !*' said the Major. " Done !" said Lord Henry. " Done !" repeated the Major. Then both returned their books to their respective pockets and began to yawn. " What the dooce shall we do ? " said the Major. "Eh! what the dooce indeed!" replied Lord Henry. AT THE ELDORADO. 31 '' Let's go down to the ' Eldorado/ " said the Major. "AU right," said Lord Henry; "let's go! The two stood for a few minutes on the steps of the Tag and lit their cigars, and then called up one of the hansoms that are always loitering about in hopes of a fare. "Eldorado," said the Major to the cab- man as he got in. "Eldorado," repeated Lord Henry, though it was not in the least necessary. They rattled along through the lamp -lit streets, all the shops were a blaze of gas- light, and the plate glass windows, full of every product under the sun, shed a brilliant light through their panes on to the pave- ment. London by gaslight is a very curious 32 FENACRE GRANGE. " study/' the contrast of wealth and poverty, luxury and misery, very strange. Here a 'Laurie and Marner,' all ablaze with armorial bearings, and freighted with * rank and fashion,' on its way to * Her Majesty's ; ' there a miserable hack cab painted black containing a wretched mother who has just left her little one amongst the forest of tombstones and the yawning open graves in one of the Cemeteries. There the carriage of a holy bishop, followed closely by the suspicious-looking little brougham of Aspasia, who is going to dance at the "Athole." Verily, this world of ours is a passing strange medley. The motives that prompt men to divers actions, the tempta- tions that beset some, and the impunity with which others escape them ; and what is in the heart of man He alone who came to * save the world * can know. AT THE ELDORADO. 33 I often think if some of tiie Pharisees of whom I wot, would only correct their own failings and shortcomings, instead of being so keenly on the qid vive for the peccadilloes of other people, it would be so very much more in keeping with what iYiQj prof ess to be! But whilst we are moralizing, Major Mandarin and Lord Henry have arrived at the Eldorado. One of the ballets for which the establishment is famed was being enacted. A ballet is certainly a very pretty thing in the distance ; distance lends enchantment to the scene ; a near view makes you re- peat the proverb, " All is not gold that glitters." Beautiful houris are found to be very much vermilioned, bedaubed, and painted middle-aged women. The "rocky cascade VOL. I. 3 34 FENACllE GRANGE. of laughing waters" proves to be a stream from the pipes of the " East London Water- works," played by a fustian-coated " super," over ''boulders" made of canvas stretched over wooden frames. Of course it is very sad and wicked to be a ballet-girl. Nobody denies that ; even the people who do go and see them dance say so. But I'd answer for it, if the dinners of some of the white-chokered gentry of the " Stiggins " type, were to depend on the agility of their lower members, they'd be shaking their fat carcases might and main to the tune of " Devil take the hindmost,'' fast enough, eh ? and find a text to warrant their doing so. " David danced before the ark," they'd say ; " why shouldn't we ?" Hush, my dear fellows. David forgot to put his clothes on when he did it — ^hush 1 AT THE El.DORADO. 35 " Solomon said, there's a time to dance," they would continue. And what time, my dear brethren, is more suitable than when you want to earn an honest penny to buy a dinner, support an aged parent, or a bed- ridden sister ? Answer me that ! Continued pas seul of Stiggins, who is borne off to his dinner exhausted, amidst the plaudits of the delighted and enthu- siastic audience. * * * * ^ " By Jove, Queen, it's hot up here,'' said the Major, as they walked round the gallery ; " let's go down below." " Let's go," said Lord Henry. So accordingly they both went. They went and sat down at one of the little marble tables, which look like a lot of white plates set out for a dinner-party, when you lean over the balcony railings 3—2 36 FENACRE GRANGE. and look down througli the cloud of smoke. " What'll you take, genl'men ?" said the much perspinng waiter. " What'll you tajie ?" " ShandygafF," said the Major. " Shandygaff," repeated Lord Henry. " I say, Queen, who's that woman over there ? I've seen her somewhere before." " So have I," said Lord Henry. " By Jove ! it's Lady Fenacre," said the Major. " By Jove ! so it is," said Lord Henry. " What will happen next, I wonder ?" said the Major. " There's poor Fenacre shot in the back like a teal, and his wife at the Eldorado. What ^vill happen next ?" " What will happen next ?" said Lord Henry. " Let's watch and see." AT THE ELDORADO. 37 Acting on this brilliant suggestion, tlie pair kept tlieir places, and tlieir eyes fixed on Lady Fenacre. Presently a tall, distingue-looking man, with short hair and a heavy light moustache, came up and spoke to her. " By Jove, it's Charlie Forrester," said the Major. " By Jove, so it is," said Lord Henry. " I thought you were never coming, Charlie," said Lady Fenacre. " If any of my husband's friends should see me in this place, and tell him, or he should hear of it, I do not know what would happen. It is not kind of you to have kept me waiting so long. I have risked much to meet you here to-night ; I have risked what a woman likes least to forfeit — the esteem and confidence of her husband." " Have you brought the money, Nelly ?" 38 FENACRE GRANGE. replied he. "I am cursedly liard-up, and have not one sixpence to jingle against another till I receive the subsidy of my pretty cousin/' " Yes, here it is," replied Lady Fenacre, putting a purse in his hand ; " it's all I have got by me. Sir Richard has gone to the Grange for a few days' shooting, and he gave me this before he left ; I've only kept enough to go back to Brighton to-night by the mail. My maid is waiting for me at old Miss Fenacre's, Sir Eichard's aunt in Queen Street, and I must get back there as soon as possible. They think I have gone to my sister's, Lady George Fitzreine's, so I must just go round that way and run in for a few minutes." Lady Fenacre then got up from her chair. " Good night, Charlie," she said, shaking hands with him ; " do, for all our sakes — for AT THE ELDORADO. 39 the sake of old times, give up that horrid ' hell ' in Jermyn Street. It's ruining you, body and soul," she continued ; " you would have done it once if I'd asked you. Oh ! do it now !" " I can't, I^elly," he replied, with a chok- ing voice ; " Nelly, I can't. That viper has wound his coils round me; I can't escape him !" " Poor fellow, I pity you," said Lady Fenacre ; " I do indeed." With these words she left the Eldorado, called a cab, and drove to Curzon Street. "Is Lady George Fitzreine at home?" she asked, as the servant opened the door. " Yes, your ladyship," replied the man, to whom of course she was well known, being his mistress's sister. " Then show me up to the drawing- room," said Lady Fenacre. 40 FENACRE GRANGE. Lady George Fitzreine was a widow of about seven-and-twenty ; her husband, who was the third son of the Duke of Maldon, and chief secretary of the " Eed-tape" office, died a few months after his marriage, and left her his house in Curzon Street, with a very comfortable income to uphold the same. " Good gracious, Nelly !" said Lady George, as she entered, " what has brought you here ? I thought you were at Brighton with Sir Richard." " No ; Sir Eichard has gone to tlie Grange for a few days, and I had a letter from poor Charlie, asking me to help him, and begging me to come up and see him. I couldn^t refuse the poor fellow, so I came up to town and met him at " " Where ?" said Lady George. " The Eldorado," said Lady Fenacre. AT THE ELDORADO. 41 ''Are you mad, Nelly ?" said Lady George ; " what would your husband's friends think of you if they saw you there — alone ? What would Sir Ei chard say if he knew you had taken advantage of his absence in that way ? Oh ! Nelly, Nelly ! are you mad ?" " No, Lily, I am not mad ; but oh, I am so very, very miserable — so very, very wretched." With these words she threw herself on her sister's neck and burst into tears. "Oh, Lily!" she continued, "the night before my husband left he struck me. I went on my knees to him and begged him not to hurt me ; he took no heed, and gave me this !" With these words she pushed her hair back from her forehead, and disclosed a large bruise wdth the skin broken, and the flesh yet unhealed and discoloured. " It was so cruel — so cruel," she sobbed. " I am so 42 FENACRE GRANGE. small and weak, and he so big and strong, — so cruel." " The cowardly brute I" said Lady George. " A man that strikes a woman ought to be cut by all his acquaintances, horsewhipped in the street, and black-balled at the clubs. The cowardly brute," she continued, "I should like to do it myself!" " Hush 1 Lily ; he is n/j/ husband, and I must not listen to this. But," she sobbed again, "it was so cruel — so cruel — so very cruel !" "You mustn't go back to Brighton to- night," said Lady George. "You're not fit to go; you're not indeed." " I'd rather go," said Lady Fenacre. " No, Nelly, I wont hear of it. I shall send to Queen Street for your maid ; you must stop here to-niglit. Now come to bed, you poor suffering darling," she continued, AT THE ELDORADO. 43 kissing lier ; " if George had ever treated me as your husband does you, I'd have left him the next day — that I would !" "'No you wouldn't, Lily; you would never have dared to brave the world's opinion, and lay yom'self open to its sarcasm and ill-natured speeches." " I !" said Lady Gleorge ; " I don't care a screw what the world says, and never will." By this last remark of Lady George's, we see she was one of the " strong-minded women," of whom many are abroad in these latter days, breathing threats and defiance to Mrs. Grundy, and throwing down their gauntlets at that " Siwful perso?is" feet 1 " I don't care a screw what the world says, and never will," repeated Lady George. " Yes," said Lady Fenacre, " but I am not hke you ; you always went your own 44 FENACRE GRANGE. way. Your life has been like tlie moun- tain torrent that dashes over every obstacle ; mine, like the placid stream that flows in the canal that's cut ready for it ! You always were so very different, Lily !" "Yes, Nelly, thank God, I was. /would never have been forced into a marriage with a tipsy old rake whom I loathed." "I couldn't help it, Lily; they worried me so ; told me that poor papa must be arrested for his debts if some one didn't pay them ; and I hadn't the courage — I hadn't the courage to say No !" "When you did marry him, Nelly, you ought to have made the best of it. / should have tried to forget his odious existence. I would have let him go down to that half-drowned place of his in Essex by himself, and I should have gone abroad and amused myself at one of the watering- AT THE ELDORADO. 45 places. YouVe no idea what fun one lias at those German baths ; it's one continual round of excitement from morning till night. You just stake your ' Nap ' at the tables for the fun of the thing, and 3^ou scrape acquaintance with the most delightful 'Bohemians/ whom, of course, one would not think of speaking to in London ; in short, it's delicious ! — it's all so new, and there is such a piquant spice of diaUerie in the whole aiFair, that it's quite diverting ! Go to Baden-Baden, NeUy !" '•' No, Lily, I wont," said Lady x enacre ; " because Sir Eichard forgets his duty as a husband, I wont forget mine as a wife." " You dear sanctimonious little humbug," said Lady George, " do you suppose I recdlij meant it. What an innocent you are !" she continued. "It never came up to 46 FENACRE GRANGE. London to meet its cousin when its husband was away, did it ?" " Oh, Lily, how can you be so cruel to me?" said Lady Fenacre; "you know how I loved poor Charlie. I loved him when I sold myself to 7ny husband. Oh, Lily, I know it's wrong, but I love him now !'* " He's not worth it, Nelly ; he's a good- for-nothing scamp !" said Lady George. " Oh, Lily, don't be hard on him ; he's had much to try him, much to tempt him to try and drown all recollection of him- self." " I don't care about that," said Lady George, " the fellow's a scamp, and if he came here, I should say ' not at home !' " Just then the door opened, and in walked Charlie Forrester ! " Good gracious !" exclaimed Lady George, " talk of the devil, &c., &c. ! AT THE ELDORADO. 47 This impertinence is insupportable. How- dare you come into my house?" " I knew Nelly was here," said Forrester, " and I nerved myself to bear your taunts and endure your coldness to see her once again !" "Then know you have taken an un- pardonable liberty, which you would not dare to have done if my husband had been living ! I congratulate you, Mr. Forrester," she said wdth a sneer, " on having forced your way into a house, the owner of which, if a man, instead of a poor weak woman, would kick you out ! I congratulate you, Mr. Forrester, on your pluck and audacity. Good night, Mr. Forrester." With these words she swept out of the room. "I couldn't help coming, Nelly," said Forrester. " I knew you were here ; you 48 FENACRE GRANGE. are the only one in the world who cares whether I live or die — yours are the only eyes which would he wet with tears if I was found drowned some morning at the foot of one of the bridges. I never hear a word of purity and kindness from any one but you. Oh, Nelly ! I couldn't help coming." " It was very wrong of you, Charlie ; very wrong and unkind," said Lady Fenacre. " If you really loved me you wouldn't make me so wretched and miserable ; you wouldn't hunt me as you do. It's very cruel of you," she continued, " very cruel." "Oh, don't say that, Nelly," said For- rester ; '' please don't." " I mean it, Charlie — I do indeed. Give me your word to-night you wont attempt to see me again — you may write, but oh, do pro- mise me you wont try and see me. I can't bear it, Charlie; I can't indeed. Do promise." AT THE ELDORADO. 49 '* No ; I can't promise you that," said Forrester. " I feel sometimes that if I did not see you and speak to you as I am doing now, life would be too sad, too miser- able, too wretched — the sight of you is the only ray of light and comfort I have ; you are to me the one bright angel of hope that keeps me from the dark abyss of utter de- spair. Oh, Nelly, don't ask me to promise you that ; I can't do it, I can't, indeed 1" " Charlie, you must'/ said Lady Fenacre, rising up from her chair. " And will you now please to [jo — you cannot stay here any longer." " Don't look and speak so like your sister Lady George," said Forrester. " I can't bear to see it ; if anything could lessen my love for you, it would be the fact that she was your sister. I hate her !" he continued pas- sionately. VOL. I. 4 50 FENACRE GRANGE. " Don't say that," said Lady Fenacre ; "please don't. Now, Cliarlie, please go," she added with a voice of entreaty — '' please go! " Good night, Nelly — kiss me," he said. " Good night, and God bless you !" " Good night, Charlie, — oli, please, for my sake don't go to that horrid place. Good night, Charlie," she continued, and kissed him. Then he went. We grieve to have to write it, but married women do sometimes, in the absence of their lords, bestow a chaste salute on other men. We don't know why — except it can be a kind of yearning for sympathy ! " Does anybody know, because if they do, will they, &c." Lady Fenacre went to her room ; her sister's door was locked when she tried it on her way up — she evidently did not wish AT THE ELDORADO. 51 to see her ; so Lady Fenacre judged it best to go to bed — so accordingly she went. Meanwhile Queen and the Major are sitting at the Eldorado. " I'm getting dev'lish sleepy," said the Major. " So am I," said Queen ; " let's go home," for once in his life starting a new idea. " Let's go home. Grad ! how you do yawn, Mandarin ; you look like a toad when he's going to walk into a slug ! by Jove you do !" "Bless me, Queen, isn't that Fenacre's gamekeeper standing under that lamp ?" " By Jove, so it is," said Lord Henry. "It's Laurence Blake." " Then we are quits," said Major Man- darin ; " because if the gamekeeper had done it he'd have been in quod — we're quits, old boy!" 4—2 52 FEN ACRE GRANGE. " That was a dev'lisli rum thing, Lady Fenacre meeting Forrester at the Eldo- rado to-night — dev'lish rum," said Lord Henry. " Did you see her giving Forrester money ?" said the Major. " It's a m3^stery to me how she gets it ; Fenacre was always as close as an oyster." " Eaised it on a post-obit most likely," said Lord Henry. " Women are up to any dodges, and the Jews know every syllable of her settlements — old Forrester was precious sharp there — heard so from my brother George, who married the other sister. George said they did some sharp practice with the public at the Eed-tape office, but the way that old Forrester walked into him was a caution. Gad ! he had to settle every six- pence on his wife. Monstrous shame when a fellow's got his own brothers AT THE ELDORADO. 53 SO confoundedly liard-uj) ! Isn't it, Major?" "Yeiy," said liis sympathizing friend, very. CHAPTER III. DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. " How shocking must thy summons be, Death ! To him that is at ease in his possessions ; Who, counting on long years of pleasure here. Is quite unfurnished for that world to come ! In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help. But shrieks in vain !" Blair. § T 'S the day of the funeral, and Tenacre Grange is in possession of a band of sable-attired harpies, whose houglit looks of grief pre- sent such a dismal parody of woe that it is more provocative of mirth than sadness to see them. DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. The author of " Christian Burials " hurls a most just censure at the ridiculous mockery of funeral millinery which the undertakers think necessary to convey " dust to dust and ashes to ashes/' The paraphernalia of mutes and pages, trays of feathers, or " infernal cauliflowers," scarfs and hatbands, long black cloaks, and hatch- ments, and all the dismal trappings of the grave on which these ghouls feast and grow fat. The funeral of Sir Eichard Fenacre, Bart, was a triumph of the undertaking art. Messrs. Grhoul of St. James's Street said " It was the prettiest thing they had ever done," and they ought to know. Did they not " undertake " the late Duke of Maldon? Did not the present Duke give them ' carte blanche ' as to the ex- pense ; and did not they avail themselves of 56 FENACllE GRANGE. liis Grace's permission? But it was nothing, absolutely nothing — though a very pretty thing, as Messrs. Grhoul's foreman said — to the obsequies of Sir Richard Fenacre, Bart. Three days before the funeral, Fenacre was full of Messrs. Grhoul's advanced guard. They came down by the 4.50 train from Fencliurch Street, carrying bales of cloth and crape under their arms. Mr. Trestle was in command, and he knew how things should be done ! Had he not buried the Duke of Maldon ? Had he not figured as a page in the funeral procession of William IV.? Mr. Trestle himself put up at the Fenacre Arms, but like a careful general as he was, he billeted his men within hail. Nevertheless some of the men did go down to the Hoy that evening. Job Baxter being reckoned "good com- pany I DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 57 " You'll have grand doings np at tlie Grrange on Saturday," said Baxter; "there'll be some money spent, I reckon !" "Ay, that there will,'" replied a " mute " (who, by-the-bye, was very talka- tive), " that there will !" " Poor Sir Eichard," he continued ; " cut down like a flower ! We're here -to day and gone to-morrow. All flesh is as grass ; man comes up like a flower, and is cut down like a grasshopper," he added with a professional sigh. " Blow your moralizing," said Job ; " you make one creep all over with your cofiin and churchyard speeches !" " It's a queer job/' said the mute, drop- ping his professional voice, "very queer ! They say a good many things about it. Eube Eue haven't been seen since that night, has he ?" 58 FENACRE GRANGE. "I don't know," said Baxter, "how should I ?" '' They say that Laurence Blake looked very white at crown er's inquest," said the mute. ''They say him and Sir Eichard was as like as two peas ! — if every one had their own. But it's a queer story," said the mute, relapsing into his professional manner as the spirits got into him. '' We're here to-day and gone to-morrow." "Yes," said Baxter, "but don't talk shop about it." "Good night, Mr. Baxter," said the mute, "good night." And he left the Hoy with a feeling of pity for the poor benighted man on whom his rhetoric was lost. Mr. Trestle rose and "dressed himself with great care," as the story books say. He surveyed the courtyard of the Fenacre DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 59 Arms from liis window whilst shaving. The yard was full of mourning coaches and black horses ; in the middle was a gigantic hearse, to which some of his satellites were affixing the feathers. It did his heart good to see the array. " It'll be the prettiest thing," he said to himself, " the very prettiest I have ever done 1" When he was dressed in a suit of shining black, he went to the glass and practised his most dismal face ! Mr. Trestle had four different faces, which he assumed according to circum- stances and payment. His FIRST was a cheerful resigned face, which he put on at the funeral of a baby or a poor man. — It meant " The little darling is among the Cherubim s and Seraph ims, and never more will cry." GO EENACRE GRANGE. " Poor lellow, with such a large family to sup23ort it's quite a mercy he's gone — he was such a suiierer too. Happy release !" His second was a grave and serious face : it meant, " Well we must bear our losses with resignation ; we must all come to it some day. He was a loss to society, but these accidents will happen in the best regulated families.'-' His third was a momiifid face ; he wore it at a funeral of a young girl. It meant — " One so young — oh, how very sad it is ! To be a young rose nipped in the bud by the cold frosty wind ! She's escaped many a heartache ; perhaps it is better it should be so." His fourth was along lugubrious visage, looking pale and worn with watching — black lines under the eyes, a running stream of tears, a convulsive sniffle when anybody was DUST TO BUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 61 looking, and a fixed expression of blank, utter despair. He wore it at the funeral of bishops, baronets, and other big-wigs (?). It meant — " This is an irreparable loss ; there was never one so kind and courteous, so learned or so wise ; the poor found in him a father, and the orphan a mother ; his charities knew no limit ; his like will never be on earth again ; we cannot be resigned, the loss is too great — it's crusldng ! " This latter he assumed for Sir Eichard, the best of everything having been ordered. He now went downstairs and ordered a coach round to take him to the Grange, leaving orders that the hearse and the rest of the coaches should be there in half an hour's time. He had arranged everything to his satis- faction. The shops were shut. A black 62 FEN ACRE GRANGE. flas: floated half-mast liigfli on the church. Every blind was down. The school-children were all swathed in black cloaks. All the townspeople wore hatbands. He had sown black kid gloves broadcast on the town. The statue of the late Sir Eichard Fenacre (tern}). Queen Anne) was clothed in black crape. And so was his munificent gift, the parish pump ! Tenacre Church was lined, walls and roof, with black cloth ; the pulpit and desk were covered with it, so were the pews. I believe Mr. Trestle would have liked to have taken a hammer and nails and covered the pew-opener with it ; but as it was he had to content himself with presenting her with a black dress and bonnet, trimmed with crape till you could not see what the gown was made of. For the information of the curious I will tell them it was " bombazine." DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 63 The Fenacre momiment was swathed in crape also. When Mr. Trestle arrived at the Grange, all the blinds were down, and the hatch- ment up over the door, blazoned with the arms of Fenacre — viz., /' three wild-duck or on a field azure!' He got down from the coach and knocked at the front door, which was opened by the mute whose acquaintance we made at the Hoy. That worthy's nose was very red, and his eyes very watery, and the hand which held the black-draped crutch was very shaky. Mais que voulez-vous ? If people drink spirits last thing at night, why their hands icill shake in the morn- ing! " Grive me the glove-box," said Mr. Trestle ; then he went to the glass and put on his most lugubrious No. 4 face ; and 64 FEN ACRE GRANGE. when this was to his satisfaction he opened the library door. The room Avas full of " mourners," who were fortifying themselves with sherry for the dreadful ordeal they were about to un- dergo. There were assembled Sir Richard's brother and heir, John Fenacre, now Sir John ; the Duke of Maldon, Lord Henry Fitzreine, Loftus Fenacre, Richard Staple- ton, White Brown, Charles Fitzcharles, Mr. Parchment, and Dr. Spires. " What's ^ou?^ number. Sir John ?" said Mr. Trestle, with a mournful air, which said as plainly as if he spoke, " Ah ! numbers is all vanity." " Seven and three quarters," said Sir John, as loud as he could. He was rather proud of having such a small hand, and he wanted everybody to know it. " Seven and three quarters." DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 65 " Very good, Sir John," said Mr. Trestle. " You'll find tliese the very best kid." " Your Grace, miglit I," said Mr. Trestle to the Duke of Maldon, with his most in- sinuating manner, " might I inquire yours?" " Eight and a half," replied his Grrace. The rest of the company had their gloves distributed with less ceremony. Then Mr. Trestle retired for a few moments, and re- turned, followed by one of his men carrying the hats, flowing with large black silk bands ; another carried the scarves. These all adjusted, a crunching of the gravel was heard outside. " I think, Sir John, it loould be better," said Mr. Trestle, with a kind of '' it- must- be" air. " Very good, Mr. Trestle," replied Sir John. " This way, gentlemen, please," said Mr. VOL. I. 5 66 FENACRE GRANGE. Trestle, as lie led tlie way to the front door. " This way." Then the first coach drove up, and Sir John Fenacre, the Duke of Maldon, Loftus Fen- acre, and Lord Henry Fitzreine, got into it. "Eight," said Mr. Trestle, in a sharp decisive voice, and off it rolled. It was brought to a standstill about ten paces off by his raising his baton ; the shock threw the occupants forward with a violet jerk. " Confound that fellow !'' said Sir John. " Dooce take him !" said the Duke. '' By Jove ! he don't know how to drive," said Lord Henry. " He's not fit to pilot a gentleman's car- riage," said Loftus Fenacre. Then they all four laughed. Meanwhile the second coach ; Mr. Trestle said, " Now, gentlemen !" and Eichard Stapleton, White Brown, and Charles Fitz- DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 67 charles got in, and on it went. It was brought to a lialt, like its predecessor, bj the inexo- rable baton. The same jerk followed, and with a slight variation the same remarks on the driver. The third, fourth, and fifth came up and were freighted by Mr. Trestle, and so on to the number of thirty. All the tenants were there, and Mr. Trestle had provided coaches for their accommodation. Every coach had four horses, each horse had a groom, each coach had two pages and a coachman. The hearse had six horses and eleven men ! It took therefore one hundred and twenty- six horses and two hundred and twenty- one men to bury Sir Eichard Fenacre, Baronet. Assuredly, as Mr. Trestle said, it was " a very pretty thing." Fenacre church is a small damp building at the opposite end of the marsh to the 5— :j 68 I' EN ACRE GRANGE. Grange. As we said before, Mr. Trestle had swathed it in black cloth. The church was densely packed with people from Fenacre, all wearing the black gloves provided by Mr. Trestle. " Clang !" went the iron tongue of the bell. " Clang !" Wheels are beginning to crunch the gravel outside. Clang ! went the bell. Expectation is on tiptoe. The great Mr. Trestle is seen through the opening door ; with a tray of tojDpling feathers on his head, under which he walks with conscious pride. He knows everybody is looking at him. Clang goes the bell. The hearse drives up with its nodding plumes and velvet draped horses. Clang goes the bell. DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. (19 Mr. Trestle makes his arrangements, and the coffin is on trestles Ijefore the altar. Some people cavil at tlie Burial Service, but surely it approaches nearer to the charity "which hopeth all things," than all the ceremonies or liturgies of the Church put together. The service in the church over, the party adjourned to the vault ; the few short sen- tences are read ; and the funeral is over. All the party get into the coaches and drive off briskly to the Grange. That fast trot after the funeral is over, is, I suppose, meant to raise the spirits. In the same way as the band plays a waltz coming home from a military funeral; though the solemn strains of the " Dead March" are heard going to it. Out jump the people and flock, into the dining-room. More sherry ! 70 FEN ACRE GRANGE. Sherry and grief have a wondrous affinity ; wherever you find one, you are sure to find the other. Mr. Parchment now announced that he would read the will. " The property is all entailed," said Sir John to the Duke, "so he wont have much to leave away." " * I do devise unto my relict Dame Eleanor Fenacre, commonly called Lady Fenacre, my house in Park Lane, and furthermore charge my estate of Fenacre, in the county of Essex, with a rent-charge of 1000/. per annum for her use. '* 'Tomy housekeeper. Honor Blake, I grant an annuity on the estates of 200/. per annum, and do appoint her residuary legatee.' " When the lawyer ceased reading, there was a universal murmur of astonishment round the room. DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 71 " By Jove !" said Sir John, " I don't understand this." *' It looks dev'lish queer," said Lord Henry. " Dooced !" said the Duke. " What is the date of my brother's will ?" said Sir John. " It was made two years ago, when I drew up the settlements before his marriage with Miss Forrester," replied the lawyer. " I should like to speak to you alone, Mr. Parchment," said Sir John. They both went into the study and shut the door. " Is the personalty anything very great ?" asked the Baronet, anxiously. "It's not under forty thousand pounds/' replied Mr. Parchment. " Forty thousand pounds !" repeated Sir John, with astonishment. 72 FENACRE GRANGE. " Not a sixpence less," said the lawyer. " By Jove ! I'll bring an action against the woman; — I'll swear he did it in a fit of delirmm tremens. It's a scandalous piece of rascality !" he continued ; " it's a trumped up lie to swindle me — swindle me, sir ! — me, sir ! By Jove, I icont be swindled ! Do I look like a man who would be swindled ?" " Calm yourself, Sir John," said the lawyer, " and listen to me. You mustn't dispute this will." " Not dispute the will ? — by Jove, I icill, sir ! If there's justice to be had in England, rU have it. I'll petition Parliament ; I'll memorialize the House of Lords ; I'll carry my cause to the throne itself!" " Hush, my dear sir," said the lawyer ; " I can explain matters why you shouldn't dispute this will ; you'll see the sense of my argument then." Mr. Parchment went DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. /O to the door to see if anybody was listening, and then came back and put his mouth to Sir John's ear. " The reason ivliy yon shouldn't dispute Sir Eichard's will is," he whispered, '' that Honor Blake was his wife r '^His wife!" said Sir John. *' Good heavens. Parchment, are you mad ?" " No, Sir John," said the lawyer, '' I'm not ; but harkee, you've no m.ore right to be ' Sir ' John than I have. There was a son !" "I don't believe it," said Sir John ; ''it's a lie !" " It's too true," said the lawyer. " That son was your brother's gamekeeper, Law- rence Blake." " I don't believe it," said Sir John. " It's just like the meanness of the abominable race of women, to have a son and say it was poor Eichard's. I doiit believe it T He 74 FENACRE GRANGE. said these last words very slowly and deli- berately, with a pause between each. " It is true, Sir John," said the lawyer, "and your best interests are to pay the money and say nothing. You are, I think, quite safe from being molested in your title, for," said the lawyer, " I have my suspicions — my 8uspicio7is only, mind you — that Law- rence Blake shot his father ! and if so, he'll keep out of the way. He hasn't been seen in Fenacre since that night. I believe," again said Mr. Parchment, " that Lawrence Blake shot his father !" " If he did," said Sir John, " it was con- foundedly undutiful of him; but all one could expect from that woman's son." *' I know,'' said the lawyer, " that Honor Blake has got her marriage certificate and proof of tlie legitimacy of her son ; I knoio too," he said, " that no ordinary circum- DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. /O stances would prevent her, with such a large sum of money at her disposal, from taking legal proceedings to establish his right. Depend upon it, there are very good reasons for Lawrence keeping out of the way ; and my advice to you is to pay the money with- out asking any questions." " Perhaps it's best," said Sir John. " I shouldn't like to be done out of Fenacre Grange when I have been expecting and waiting for it all my life ; so I'll pay the money." " That will be best. Sir John," said the lawyer ; " the ver}^ best thing to do." " We'd better go into the dining-room again," said Sir John. " Yes, I think we had," replied Mr. Parch- ment. All the mourners were discussing an ex- cellent cold collation, and were in very good 70 I'ENACRE GRANGE. spirits (thanks to the sherry), and the party was just as merry a one as if they had been on the top of a "drag " on the Derby day. " By Jove !" Lord Henry was saying as the two entered, " by Jove, Stapleton, I saw Lady Fenacre meet Charlie Forrester at the Eldorado the other night." "No; by Jove, did you?" said Stapleton. " 'Pon my word it's true," said Lord Henry. " AYhat are you talking about. Queen ?" said Fitzcharles ; " you should suit your discourse to the occasion ; it should savour of churchyards and sextons." " Hush, Fitz ; here's old Fenny," replied Queen. " Bo shut up." Mr. Trestle now entered to say that the coaches were waiting to take all those who were going back to London by the train, to the station. DUST TO DUST, ASKES TO ASHES. 77 A general move and handshaking took place. " Much obliged to you for coming," said Sir John to each as they took leave. " Griad to have been able to do so," was their reply. Mr. Trestle put each party into the coach, and gave the order " to the station" in his most stentorian voice. His reign v/as nearly over, and when the last coach rolled out of the courtyard, he sat down with a sigh of relief, and ran over in his own mind the events of the day. "It's been done well," he said to himself. "I never remember doing a job so thoroughly. I surpassed myself," he continued. The Duke of Maldon, Lord Henry Fitz- reine, Fitzcharles, and Loftus Fenacre, played whist as they went up to London by the train. 7S FEN ACRE GRANGE. '■ Spades is trumps," said Loftus, as he threw down the card. ''The dooce it is!" said the Duke of Maldoii. " What a fool you were to revoke," said Lord Henry to Fitzcliarles. *' You'd better keep your abuse to your- self," replied he, and disjointed scraps of con- versation of this description whiled away the time till the train puffed into Fenchurch Street Station. When the funeral party were gone, Sir John rang the bell. It was answered by a black-liveried foot- man. " Ask Mrs. Blake to come up and speak to me," said Sir John. "Very good, sir," said the man. In a few minutes more Mrs. Blake made her appearance. DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 79 " You are doubtless aware, Mrs. Blake," said Sir John, "that my brother has left you his residuary legatee ; his personalty, Mr. Parchment tells me, is over forty thou- sand pounds ; which sum I am prepared at once to hand over to you." " I am much obliged to you, Mr. Fenacre," said the housekeeper, " but I did not antici- pate that you iconld dispute Sir Eichard's will." " Certainly not, Mrs. Blake ; I shouldn't think of such a thing. By-the-bye where is your son Lawrence ?" This time the tables were turned on the housekeeper, for she started and looked con- fused. "He's up in London, but will return shortly," replied she. "Very good, Mrs. Blake," said Sir John ; " now I want to ask you a few questions 80 I'ENACRE GRANGE. about a ridiculous report tljat has reached me. It is that — that my brother was rather fond of you once ?" " Fond of me !" said the housekeeper. " He was my husband ! and my son is Jtis!'[ " Eeally, Mrs. Blake, what an assertion to make ! It makes me laugh — it does indeed. My brother Eichard perpetrate a mesalliance, the idea is too absurd — he may have been rather wild, but to suppose that he would have committed himself is too ridiculous. You must be dreaming.'* " I'm not indeed," she replied, " but know that what I am stating* is correct. / am Ladi/ Fenacre, and my son is xSeV Lawrence." " Bless me ! Mrs. Blake, you don't say so ? — real — ly, you are loo absurd !" " You need not tremble for your fortune or your title. Sir John ; my son will never DUST TO DUST, ASHES TO ASHES. 81 claim either, thougli hotli are riglitfully his. Do not attempt to molest us. We shall not trouble you ! Good night, Sir John." " By Jove !" said Sir John, as she left the room, " it's like the last scene in the play, where everybody turns out to be somebody else — by Jove, it is ! Parchment loas right then. / shan't take any steps in this matter ; Mrs. Blake shall have her money. Bless me ! who would have thought that of Eichard. Why then, who's Nelly if she's not Lady Fenacre ? By Jove ! she's nobody ! abso- lutely nobody I I hope this old woman and my hopeful nephew will leave the country." ^4^^ VOL. I, CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. " Through the world's dark wilderness, Wearily I roam, Until I find some loving heart That I can call my own." L. C. IE JOHN had written to Lon- don to tell his daughter to come down to the Grange the day after the funeral. The waste looked very dreary as she drove over it to the house. The red-brick building, which was to be her future home, did not present a very inviting appearance ; nor was there anything in the landscape to I INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. S3 relieve the monotoDy of the waste, except the brown sails of a lighter creeping slowly up the river Crouch to the Quay at Fenacre. Madeleine Fenacre was a slight-looking girl of about nineteen, v/ith great wavy masses of golden hair, black eyes, and black eyebrows. She wasn't exactly what the world would call " pretty j" she was not vivacious enough for that. There was a sort of dreamy languor about her that made her come under the denomination of "interesting" — whatever the term may mean — ^instead . " Of course she was in love," all the " gentle readers " will exclaim. No she wasn't, I affirm most unhesi- tatingly — at least as decisively as one can speak of the mysterious workings of la (jrande j^assion, • 6-2 84 FKNACRE GRANGE. She was not one of those silly school girls who read trashy love-stories till they think it indispensable to existence to be in love Avith somebody — no matter who — and commence a surreptitious correspondence with the doctor's assistant or the chemist's boy, or love-passages with the page of the establishment. If I was asked lohat she was in love with, T should reply an " ideal !'' " Eidiculous humbug !" exclaim the " gentle readers " — " a lot i/on know about it. How can anybody in their senses be in love with an 'ideal ?' a thing that's not tansfible, and doesn't even wear coat and trousers? Eubbishl" In spite of this tirade, I say that Made- leine Fenacre was in love with an "ideal;" and furthermore, that a parallel state of things is quite possible. INTRODUCES THE HEROIxXE. 85 We form in our minds a kind of shadowy form which day by day takes shape ; it grows with us; it is intermingled in our lives. We may or may not ever see its realization ; but there it is, in the minds of silly young people. There is an exception to this rule, as to all others — the author of ''Fenacre Grange" being that exception. Madeleine's eyes were very large and black, precisely the reverse of those described by Moore, who said : " Those eyes, whose light seem'd rather given To be ador'd than to adore; Such eyes as may have looked from heaven, But ne'er were raised to it before." Her eyes were of that sort which in- stinctively look upward — eyes that seem to w^ear always a look of inquiry — eyes that look on 3^ou all the while you are speaking and seem to hang upon your words. 86 FENACRE GRANGE. I shall be accused of having an " ideal " eye in mind if I continue in this strain. There (ire people who have been guilty of such weakness, but it is not the present writer who has so fallen. Madeleine was fond of dressing in a kind of pre-Eaphaelite manner, not as far as re- gards colour, because she generally wore black or w^hite, but as far as outline was concerned. Her style — to use an archi- tectural phrase — was the " severe pointed." Strong contrasts of the two negative colours were her taste in dress ; in jewellery, plain, massive gold ornaments. Here our descriptive powers are exhausted, but we hope that some idea has been con- veyed to the world of what kind of appear- ance Madeleine Fenacre " put in." We have said that the Grange did not pre- sent a very inviting appearance. In fact it INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 87 struck i\Iadeleine that it looked particularly dismal. Not tliat she cared for cheerful surroundinsrs ; she had never been used to them and did not feel the want of them, but her little back room in Clarges Street, with its extensive view of skylights and chimney- pots and opportunities of observing the habits of the sparrow tribe, seemed to her a species of Garden of Eden, which she had left for the dismal world of Fenacre Grange. She had passed her life in that little room ; every angle and corner in it seemed to wear the face of an old, familiar friend; the threadbare carpet and shabby old furniture were the only companions she had ever known. Sir John had lived at his club, only breakfasting at home. He was very fond of his daughter, but he liked himself better, and it bored him to sit in the house all day. 88 FEN ACRE GRANGE. He was one of those men who have been aptly termed dwers-oiii ; they are a curious race in themselves, and quite different from other people. They don't belong in par- ticular to anybody — that is, they are either widowers or middle-aged bachelors. They read all the papers and all the new novels, they know everybody, or pretend they do, which is all the same. They have always just seen the Lord Chancellor or the Bishop of Barchester, who have communicated to them very particular and private information on ministerial movements, which those worthies wouldn't have dreamt of telling anybody else. The diner-out is a kind of walking " Peer- age," ''County Families," "Army and Clergy List," rolled into one. He knows all about that affair of the late Duke of Maldon and Harry Cox, his trainer. He knows n-//j/ Blue Eibbon did not win the Derby. He knows I INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 89 liow many ojSers Miss Gushington had last season, and what "he said," and what '* she said" on each occasion. He knows lohy White Brown did not get his uncle's money or the family living he had been expecting to get. He knows why Eichard Stapleton did not purchase his majority, when every- body knows he has got money enough to purchase a dozen if he liked ! He knows that Lady Gushington paints and uses violet powder; and he hiows that Sir Eustace Fitzfoozlem is a fool — in fact, the diner-out knows everytldng — and who can know more ? A judicious dinner-giver always secures a well-known diner-out if she can ; a man who can be depended on to talk. Diners- out have to be secured weeks beforehand if they are popular; the race being generally, in stable parlance, " over their hocks " in pink satin notes and invitation cards ! 90 FEN ACRE GRANGE. Sir John Fen acre was a diner -out. After the long explanation of "ye man- ners and customs of ye race " that has been given, we need say no more. Sir John had been in the Guards as a young man, and had been rather fast in his time. However, match-making mammas are very forgiving to young men with '^ expec- tations" on that score, and only saw in him the heir-apparent of a baronetcy and a large estate. To everybody's surprise he escaped the meshes spread for him ; and when hunting down at Market Harborough he fell in love and married pretty Minnie Stapleford, daughter of a Captain Stapleford, who com- bined the worship of Nimrod with a devo- tion to Mammon. Or in plain English, bought young horses at the great fairs, made INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 91 them, and then sold them to the gentlemen sportsmen who came to hunt on the far- famed Leicestershire acres. Minnie was a very good rider, and rode regularly to hounds. In fact her father thought, and so did many others, that no one could show off a horse so well as she did. She had a very small trim little figure, which showed to great advantage in her riding-habit. She had brown hair done up in a coil behind (chignons were not then in fashion) ; the said hair generally came down after the first fence. Ill-natured people said she put the hairpin in loose on purpose ; but then ill-natured people will say anything. At any rate, down it came one day when John Fenacre was riding behind her. And with it fell down the barrier of his love of self. 92 FENACRE GRANGE. " Love at first sight/' you will say. Well, perhaps it was. Away went the hunt merrily over the iamous grass lands. They get a check over at coppice. " Toot — toot" goes the horn. Halloa ! there is Eeynard stealing along that hedge. The huntsman sees him. Hark forward ! Tally-ho ! shout the hunt, and away they all go. John Fenacre was riding over everything that Minnie Stapleford did ; and she did not stick at anything, how^ever ugly. At length they both came to a water-jump. The brook was nearly seven feet across. Minnie went straight at it full puce, but just as she got to the edge her horse stopped suddenly short, and she was shot over its head into the water. John Fenacre w^as going express train, so he could not pull up, but cleared the brook I INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 93 with a l30uncl. He could see Minnie strug- gling in the water as he went over it. Arrived on the other side, he dismounted as soon as possible and plunged into the stream. This latter was not a very heroic act, be- cause the water was not very deep. But in after days, when John Fen acre spoke of it, you would have thought he had leaped into Niagara. Fenacre soon extricated Miss Stapleford from the weeds at the edge of the stream, in fact nothing but her habit being so heavy from the water prevented her doing so herself. He pulled out his pocket-pistol, and applied the great consoler, sherry, to her lips. He would have liked to apply his own as well as the sherry ; but as John said of h,im- self — " He never made the most of his op- portunities.'' 94 IE N ACRE ORANGE. Of course lie liad io assist her home to Market Harborough, of course he had to receive the tlianks of her father, and, as you all know, it ended with the typical " Bless you, my children." This long digression from the dramatis pcrsonce actually living and moving in my story must be pardoned, because it helps to throw a light on subsequent events. We must leave the Shires for the alluvial wastes of East Essex, and be present at Madeleine's entry into her new home, Fenacre Grange. The door was opened by Mr. Webster. " How do you do. Miss ?" said the butler. " This is a sad job about your poor uncle." " Yes, very, Webster," said Madeleine. "Where's papa?" " Sir John is in the study. Miss ; shall I go and tell him you are here ?" INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 95 " No, thank you. I know the wa}^ and will go by myself. Have the boxes taken up, please." " Yes, Miss," said Webster. Madeleine then opened the door leading to the study, and went in. " She ain't very haffable," said Webster, " not by no means ; what queer black eyes she have got, and her hair looks like a bag of sovereigns. I wish it was, and I'd got 'em," he continued with animation, " that I do." I am afraid Mr. Webster was rather mercenary. Old men do think more of a " skiv" than a " golden lie." I think perhaps they are the wisest. Their poor old bodies have been jostled and tumbled about in the world, and they have been cheated, disap- pointed, and done, till they believe in nothing but the little round piece of gold with 9G FENACRE GRANGE. a " correct portrait" of Queen Victor ia on it. Madeleine found lier father sitting by the fire and staring vacantly into the glowing embers. " How do you do, darling," he said, as he got up and kissed her. " I am so glad to see you." There was no hypocrisy here ; as I said before, he loved his daughter. And what was more, he was getting frightfully bored from being by himself. " We'll see more of each other, dear, now w^e have come down here to live," said Sir John. " One has always so much to do in London that it's impossible to devote oneself to domestic felicity, but ?/o?o we shall be everything to each other in this half- drowned place." Then he kissed her again. As we said before, he was really glad to 1 INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 97 see her, and besides was getting so fright- fully bored from being alone. "I have no doubt we shall be very happy/' said Madeleine. She knew her father's ebullition of feeling was because he did not know what else to do. Not that she doubted his affection for herself, but she knew that his round of society had become perfectly indispensable to his happiness, and that he could not be happy alone with her. The one corner in his heart not filled by self or the world she had ; that she knew ; but unless anything of importance was about to happen to her, he would never have troubled himself how she spent her time. Society is like dram-drinking : it becomes essential to its votaries. Without it they are eaten up with " blue-devils," or lan- guish with the disease the French term e7inui. VOL. I. 7 98 FENACRE GRANGE. There were always large fires burning at the Grange. Madeleine found a very large one in her bedroom. Her room was over the study and looked out towards the sea. She went to the window and lifted up the curtain. There was the /o^. Madeleine did not apostrophize the fog, like her late uncle, but merely remarked, " Always that horrid fog!" Horrid is the ladylike adjective used, in- stead of the naughty expression of the male sex. Ladies mean the same though, when they say it. " That liorrid fog," she repeated when she got back to the fire, " it makes me shudder." Then she sat down in the arm-chair and began to think. A new phase in our existence is always an important subject for thought. The old life we have left behind seems so dear and INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 99 familiar to us, in comparison with the yet untried future on which we are about to enter. Madeleine looked as if she might have walked out of a painted window in one of the old German cathedrals, as she sat by herself in the firelight. Hers was a kind of face that might have haunted Groethe when he was writing the Marguerite, in " Faust." Her wealth of yellow hau' on which the flickering light from the coals played, might have formed a study for Euben. Madeleine wore a black silk dress, with the sleeves slashed with white, like the girl in the picture of the " Huguenots," a plain white linen collar, vandyked, and plain linen cuffs. These were fastened at her throat and ^vrists by massive gold solitaires in the shape of half an orange. Authors, beside other privileges, have an 1—'Z 100 FEN ACRE GRANGE. *' Open Sesame " to people's inmost thoughts, so I shall take advantage of that privilege and tell you what was passing in the mind of Madeleine Fenacre. In a former page I said Madeleine was in love with an " ideal ;" at least, that is, if she was in love at all. Her life had been passed with books, not people ; and I am inclined to think that persons whose lives have been so passed, are rather given to dreaming in a desultory sort of way about nothing in particular. They live in an ideal world of men and women who are very different to the people one meets in every-day life ; be- cause they know nothing of the world, they do not care about it ; they prefer the shadowy to the real — the wicked lords and despairing damsels of romance, to common- place Mr. and Mrs. Brown, who live at "No. 1, round the corner." INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 101 Madeleine was dreaming and wishing — though, she would not have allowed it — that her ideal was realized. That was the sum-total of her thoughts. She longed for sympathy and companion- ship ; some one to tell all that was passing in her mind too ; some one whose " world " she would be ; some one whose lite would be mingled with hers; some one to care for and to love ; or, in short, she craved for the union sympathetiqite des coeurs, of which the French writers speak. Madeleine and her father had nothing i7i common — no ground on which to meet on mutual terms. Sir John thought '^ the round world and they that dwell therein " a very jolly concern altogether. "When I am in good spirits, and have not the slightest soupi^on of " blue-devils," I think witli Sir John ; when I am what is technically termed " low,'* I 102 FENACllE GRANGE. cannot endorse the Baronet's opinion. People differ about the world as about most things, and thank goodness they do. What a stupid old world it would be if we all thought aHkel Some people go on the " Vale of Tears " theory, and think it is a very wretched place. Others think it ought to be all feasting and junketing. A medium course seems to be the most sensible. It seems ingratitude to the Cre- ator to call a place He has made so beautiful with mountains, rivers, woods and dales — a place which can boast of the grand Alpine scenery, the soft woodland landscapes, and the beautiful seashore scenes of sand, rock, and spray — wretched! It seems like ingra- titude. We are not in the Garden of Eden, thanks to the curiosity of our common INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 103 grandmother, Eve ; though the women do say that Adam was the most to blame. But we are in a world which He sanctified by His presence, and which He loves ; there- fore we ought not to abuse it, and talk as if it was not good enough for us. It is good enough, and will do very well for us all till we get a better. I hope the " Vale of Tears " people feel morally crushed and sat upon. Madeleine still sat gazing at the fire, and it was very weak of her, but the tears began to roll down her cheeks. She did not look beautiful in her tears ; I do not believe anybody ever did, except the creations of very sentimental novelists. The tears still went rolling down. " What a little fool !" exclaim strong- minded readers ; " what a little fool !" Very true, my good readers. Do not 1» 104 FENACRE GRANGE. ever make a fool of yourself in some way or other? Madeleine Fenacre was crying because she had no one to love her ! " Affectation and twaddle !" cry the strong-minded. "I feel inclined to shake her!" We are not all made alike, my good readers. There are some of us whose lives are made by those around us — some to whose happiness it is essential they be loved. Not loved in the general sense of the term, but they must have the monopoly of some indi- vidaaVs love. Madeleine was one of these. She felt she never could be happy without it. She could be resigned, cheerful, and contented, but she felt she never could be Ucqjpy. " E-ubbish !" again cry the strong-minded. "Well then, it k rubbish, as you persist in INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 105 saying so ; but remember all have not such carefully balanced and well regulated minds as you have, and therefore you should make allowances for those who have not. Madeleine wiped away her tears : she felt ashamed of them, though nobody was look- ing. This is unusual, because as a rule people are never ashamed of doing anything till they begin to think people are looking at them. Nevertheless, Madeleine did feel ashamed of being so weak; besides, does not crying make the eyes red? So she resolved not to think an}^ more about her loneliness, and to drown recollection of the world about her in the world of fiction. She rose and got a book, and sat down again and began to read. Her book was that marvellous creation of Victor Hugo's, " Les Miserables." lOG FENACRE GRANGE. What a wonderful story of life is here unfolded ! All the scenes from life's grand drama are painted with a master hand. It is a book one can read over and over again and never tire of it — a book in which you find fresh beauties and see fresh shades of character every time you peruse it. Madeleine's sympathies were roused by the details of the suffering of the poor Mother Fantine, when she is dying in the hospital, and longing so earnestly to see her child. It was with mingled respect and admiration that she read of the ex-convict Jean Valjean ; but it was with a kind of horror that she followed step by step the career of that wonderful man, Javert. " I feel," she said to herself, " as if some day I, or some one I loved very much, would be followed by a human sleuth-hound just INTRODUCES THE HEKOINE. 107 like that man. I don^t know ivlty I liave that feeling, but I have." There is no accounting for feelings of this description ; they must be classed in the ghostly catalogues of " Warnings," "Corpse-candles," "Death-tick," and, "such- like cattle." Madeleine did not care about the world as did her father, the great " diner-out ;" so perhaps the fictitious characters of Yictor Hugo influenced her more than they would bave done if she had been one of the world's votaries instead of being a dreamer; but somehow or other Inspector Javert and his strange fixed purpose, his wonderful perti- nacity of character, seemed to haunt her. She laid the book down, and was again lost in a reverie. She pulled up her black dress and dis- closed a blue silk petticoat, which had a 108 FENACllE GRANGE. thing round the bottom of it I have heard called a ruche. Her stockings were blue, though she was not a hlmstoching ; and her tiny feet were encased in small black kid boots. I hope nobody is shocked by the un- ceremonious way I have discoursed of these matters. If anybody is, I quote to them the motto on the royal arms — " Honi soit qui mal y pense." Madeleine wished to warm herself before going down to dinner, and heroines are as susceptible in their lower extremities to cold as other people, therefore why should not she warm herself if she felt, as Mrs. Gramp says, " so disposed ?" After she had been in a " brown study" for about a quarter of an hour, she was brought back to the world by the unsentimental sound of the dinner-bell. Heroines are hungry as well as cold, just like ordinary folk. Madeleine was hungry, INTRODUCES THE HEROINE. 109 and, what is more, was not ashamed of it, so she ran downstairs. I myself am always glad to hear the dinner-bell. CHAPTER V. AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. ** 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward, But a harsh hearing when women are froward." Shakspeaee. iE must go back in our history to the morning after Forrester and Lady Fenacre had their inter- view in Curzon Street, before the latter had heard of her husband's murder. Lady George came down to breakfast with the full determination of giving her sister a " blue" concerning the aforesaid in- terview. She took up the Morning Post and began to read. AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. Ill " Horrible murder in the Essex marshes," was the heading of the first paragraph which caught her eye. She read on, and found to her astonishment that the victim was her brother-in-law, Sir Richard Fen- acre. Just then Lady Fenacre entered the room. She had been late on purpose. All her courage had fled with the morning's light, or had perhaps, like Bob Acres' in the " Eivals," oozed out of the palms of her hands ; at any rate, she had been standing on the rug outside, afraid to go in. To her surprise, her sister came up and kissed her. "Come to the Are, Nelly," said Lady George, " and warm yourself, and drink this cup of tea." Lady Fenacre complied without any demur. 112 TEN ACRE GRANGE. " I have got some bad news to tell you, Nelly," said her sister. *' Sir Eichard has had a bad accident out shooting ; he is hurt very seriously, and it is not likely that he will recover. In fact," said Lady George, " it's no use beating about the bush any longer — he's dead !" Lady Fenacre did not say anything, but began to cry ; not because she cared about her husband, but because that is what a woman always does when she does not know what to say. At length she sobbed — " Oh, Lily, how very wicked I've been ! How I wish I hadn't come up to see Charlie. It's like a judgment upon me." " Like a fiddlestick !" said Lady Greorge. " What's the use of your pretending to care about him now he's dead, when you hated him whilst he was living ?" AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 113 Apropos of this remark of Lady Greorge's I have noticed that virtues are discovered in the dead which one never heard spoken of during their lifetime — death is equivalent to canonization. When I quit this mortal sphere, I shall figure in the family calendar as St. * - * "We'd better have the brougham after breakfast, and go to Jay^s about your mourn- ing," continued Lady George. " Very well, Lily ; you know best what ought to be done," replied her sister. They sat in silence during the rest of breakfast. Just as they were about to quit the room, a scratching was heard at the door, and a child's voice demanding admittance. Lady George flew to the door and opened it. A little pale-faced boy, with fair hair cut a la Charles IL, dressed in black velvet, came in; she caught him up in her arms VOL. I. 8 114 FENACllE GRANGE. and covered liim with kisses. He was her only chikl, and she loved him Hke other fashionahle women love their toy-terriers. That is, she spoilt him, and made him sick with all manner of food not in the least suitable to his infantile digestion. The nursery and servants' hall pronounced him to be a "young Turk," whatever that may mean. Are the juveniles of the. City of the Sultan so unruly and obstreperous, that it is become a byword amongst the nursery-maids of the Frank world ? " You little darling," said his mother, as she kissed him. " Now go out, Hke a good boy, in the Park with Sarah." " I don't want to," said the child. " Oh, but you must," said his mother. " I wont," said young hopeful. " I mean to go in the carriage with you." AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 115 " Who told him I was going out in the brougham this morning ?" said Lady George, angrily, to the nurse. " Who told him ?" " He heard Thomas say so," replied the servant. " I wish Thomas would not say so before Master Charles," said Lady George, "be- cause he always loill come." Lady George said this with an air of mar- tyrdom, just as if Master Charles was her tyrannical lord and master, which, in fact, he was, because he made her do just what he pleased. " You can leave him here with me," said his mother to the nurse : "he can go in the carriage." Master Charles was in no anxiety as to the issue of the discussion. He knew when he said he would do a thing he always did it, so he amused himself with emptying the 8—2 116 FENACRE GRANGE. sugar-basin, upsetting the cream, and pull- ing his aunt's hair. The two sisters went up to dress, and then came down to wait for the carriage. They had not long to wait, for the brougham came round ' punctually to the time it had been ordered. '* Jay's," said Lady Greorge to Thomas, as she got in. " Yes, your ladyship," was the reply. Lady George pulled down the blinds. " It looks better," she said to her sister, " and it saves one the bother of bowing to people one happens to know." Of course everybody had heard of the murder, and all the men at Jay's knew Lady George and her sister, so they were shown at once by the polite head counter-jumper into the " unmitigated affliction" depart- ment. AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 117 Master Charles here began to practise liis infantile gambols. He overturned sundry frames with crape mantles, and more than one unfortunate " moke," who had been patiently bearing a bonnet for the inspection of the public for the last ten years, was toppled over on to the ground. A duke's grandson, however, is privileged to play such tricks, and in answer to Lady George's apologies for the trouble he was giving, she was answered, it was a treat to see the little dear's spirits. It is bad enough to go to a bonnet-shop with a woman, but when a child of an in- quiring turn of mind is added thereunto, it is perfectly unbearable. Lady Greorge had to keep a sharp look- out on her sister lest her feelings should carry her away, and induce her to choose an unbecoming bonnet. 118 FENACRK GRANGE. "What do you think of this, Lily?" said Lady Fenacre. "It's hideous," said her sister; "you would look like one of the Additional Curates' wives, or a Sunday-school teacher !" Lady Fenacre had taken up what I call a strong-minded bonnet — i.e., a black straw with no aperture behind for the chignon. " This is the sort of thing," said Lady Greorge, taking up a little handful of crape and white tulle. It was the sort of bonnet that gives you the idea that its wearer is a widow, but does not mean to remain so any longer than she can help. " Try it on, Nelly." Lady Fenacre did so. " It suits you beautifully," said Lady George. "It's just like the one I wore for my poor dear husband. How the Duchess did bother me to make a guy of myself in one AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 119 of those abominable widows' caps. I told her plainly I wouldn't. What's the use of making oneself look a fright ? it doesn't in- crease your feelings." If ever I leave a widow, a codicil will be found in my will to the effect that she shall not disfigure herself in any way for my sake, as I do not wish it. That she shall continue to do her hair as she was accustomed to at the time of my death. That she shall wear the bonnet then in vogue ; and, above all things, shall not put a frill of white muslin round her face; and I hereby appoint all readers of " Fenacre Grrange " executors, to see the said clause carried out. Signed this fourteenth day of December, in the year of grace eighteen hundred and sixty-eight. Langford Cecil. Lady Fenacre was guided by her sister^ and chose the crape bonnet. She also chose 120 FENACRE GRANGE. a little Marie Shfar/ cap. This was against her sister's advice. " What good can that piece of muslin do SirEichard?" said Lily. " It wont do him any good, Lily," said Lady Fenacre ; " but I have been so un- dutiful during his lifetime, that I should like to do something for him now he's dead." " Do as you like," said Lady George : " all I can say is, I wouldn't ; and what's more, I did/it, although all the Maldons made a dead set at me." Then they plunged into the mysteries of crape, paramatta, alpaca, watteaux, ruches, Marie Antoinettes, &c., and so on ad in- Unitum. " Will you have it gored?'' said the dress- maker, just as if she was asking whether the dress should be put before the horns of an infuriated bull ! AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 121 " Grored ! of course she will," said Lady George. " We shall want the things to- morrow night." "They'll be sure to be sent," said the dressmaker. "I'll make a note of it." Then she fumbled at her book and wrote down nothing. " Good morning, your ladyships," said the woman. " Good morning." Their ladyships got into the brougham, and Lady George gave the order, "Home." Master Charles turned and played with the handle of the brougham till the door flew open and he nearly flew out, and the said door was nearly carried away by an omnibus. This occasioned an interchange of some playful badinage between the drivers of the two vehicles. 122 FENACRE GRANGE. Lady George put lier head out of the window, and ordered the coachman to drive on. When she got it in again, he blessed her eyes for interfering. The whole party, in fact, got back to Curzon Street in by no means sweet temper. The horse was not excepted. It had been pulled up so sharp that its head was nearly pulled off. It had been lashed all the way by the coachman, because he was in a rage with his mistress ; and it had now begun to resent it by turning restive. Master Charles began to scream and kick. There was no end to the commotion outside and in. He, the instigator and primary cause of all the clatter, was now screaming with fright at the result of his tricks with the door- handle. The nursery rhyme might be paraphrased, "Master Charles turned the handle; the handle opened the door ; Lady George AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 123 spoke to tlie coachman ; tlie coaclinian began to thwack the horse; the horse began to kick the carriage ; the carriage began to overturn, and they were all deposited in the mud." Fortunately nobody was hurt, though they were all much frightened; no bones were broken, or carriage panels. A few scratches on both was the only result of the upset. Master Charles was borne off screaming to his nursery, with his velvet suit a mass of mud. Lady George and her sister sat down to luncheon as if nothing had happened. They felt a little shaken, but that was all. " I like your bonnet, Nelly," said her sister : "it's very becoming to you." Just then a knock at the door was heard, followed by a ring of the bell. The servant announced Mr. Fenacre. 124 FENACRE GRANGE. The individual whose acquaintance we have already made as Sir John entered. " How do you do, Nelly," he said to his sister-in-law. "How do you do, Lady George. Then he stood still, not know- ing what to say. However, the great " diner-out " was never at a loss long, so he opened fire with — " This is sad news, Nelly, about my poor brother Eichard. No son either to take his title. It's very sad." John inwardly thought it was the reverse of sad, for if there had been he would never have had Fenacre Grange; but he always said the right thing in the right j^lace, did John. "You must come to Clarges Street, and see Madeleine : she will be so glad to see you ; and if you wish it, I will make all necessary arrangements, and do everything." AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 125 " Oh, please do," said Lady Fenacre. " It is so kind of you to come to me in this way, like a brother ! I have got nobody to do anything for me, and it is so kind of you !" John was a person who never hesitated to take these sort of speeches. He never attempted to parry them by saying " Not in the least :" he took them as his due. " Well then, I will make all necessary arrangements," said John. '' I beg you will stay here with your sister till it's all over. It would be too much for you to come down to the Grrange, — too harrowing to your feelings," he continued, rather mali- ciously. He knew that his brother and his wife were not on good terms ; he knew he beat her ; in fact, he knew all about that affair at Brighton. A man who was intimately acquainted 126 FEN ACRE GRANGE. with the private affairs of strangers, could hardly fail to be an fait with the domestic incidents of his own family. "She will stay with me, Mr. Fenacre," said Lady George ; "I wont hear of her leaving me at present. I am sure it's much better she shouldn't go down to the Grange." '' You show your usual savoir-faire. Lady George," said John, *' in this as well as all other matters; but I will not prolong this painful interview any longer. Good morn- mg. Then John left the house, and went straight down to Messrs. Ghoul, in St. James's Street, and made arrangements for the magnificent obsequies we have witnessed down at Fenacre. When he left the house. Lady George began to pass her observations upon him. AT CURSEUxAI CHAPEL. 127 " He's hien conserve for a man of his ag^e, I shouldn't be surprised if he was hooked next season. I know the Duchess has got a niece whom she is dying to get off her hands. She's her sister's child, so she can't exactly turn her out into the streets. The Duchess has given her lots of chances : she told me so with tears in her eyes, and she wont avail herself of any of them. As her Grrace says, it's so inconsiderate of her, when she knows she is entirely dependent on her aunt." The tinkling bell of Curseum Chapel began to ring. " I think, Lily, I shall go to church," said Lady Fenacre. " Go to church !" said Lady George. " Why, it's not Sunday, is it ?" " No ; but I feel as if I should like to go. 128 FENACRE GRANGE. " Well then, go," said Lady George, " but I shan't go with you." " I wish you would," said Lady Fenacre. " Please do." " Well, if you very much wish it, I will, but I don't mean to begin ' going in ' for the octaves of St. Cyprian, or the Vigils of Poly carp, so don't ask me. I shall go to church on Sundays, I hope, as long as T live ; but I don't mean to go in the week, out of respect to Ambrose and Father Francis. Nasty, musty, dirty old hermits, who had only one shirt, and never washed it. So don't ask me." " Are you ready ?" said Lady Fenacre. " Yes," said Lady George, " T am ready. I don't mind for once, but don't ask me again." " 'No, I wont," said her sister ; and they went in. AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. ] 29 The Eeverend White Brown was incum- bent of Curseum Chapel. The name of the chapel was appropriate, for curses fell on the heads of the people like hail. To tell the truth, the people did not much care about them. 'No words of blessing fell from his lips. To hear him preach you would have thought the Gospel was a denunciation of wrath and cursing, instead of being what it is — a message of love, containing peace and goodwill towards men. However, the pew-renters liked this style of thing, and when you pay ten guineas per annum for a pew nicely hassocked and cushioned, with a row of brass pegs for your hats, you expect a Boanerges for your money. Some people, the more a clergyman storms and rants and curses them from the pulpit, the more they like him: the more VOL. I. 9 130 FEN AC RE GRANGE. holy do they think him. As this is the case, tlie clergy are not altogether to blame. The law of demand and supply is carried out here as well as in other things. Therefore, so long as people love cursing better than blessing, so long will there be priests found to indulge their tastes. Lady George and her sister were shown by a black-gowned verger into the sheep s side. I mean the ladies'. " I should like to go and sit amongst the * goats,' " whispered Lady George. " Please dont, Lily," replied her sister. " I should," repeated her sister. Just then the organ began to play ; and the vestry door was opened, and a mob of little white choristers came two by two in procession up the aisle to take their places in the chancel. All the congregation stood up. AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 131 At the tail of the procession was the Eev. White Brown. Irreverent members on the goat benches called him " Whitey Brown," because his complexion was of the colour of the paper which goes by that name. The organ now swelled into a magnificent anthem, and the voices of the well-trained choir blended harmoniously in unison with it. It is all very well ; but the people who have got a soupgon of the beast^s mark upon them, yclept the High Church, have much better music than those of the old Parish Church party. Their offering of praise and psalmody is much more suitable, as far as the outward signs go, to the Great Being whom all creeds and denominations alike worship. The anthem over. White Brown ascended 9—^ 132 FENACllE GRANGE. into the pulpit. As he opened his book a blaze of light flooded the church. The ladies exclaimed, '' How lovely he looks ! Just like the ' bright Serapliin.' " The goats did 9wf say so. They are not so enthusiastic, or perhaps are not so poetical in their ideas. The sermon commenced. Thunder was nothing to it. The poor goats shook and began to fidget on their seats, and some went out. They were told they were " venal, cheats, extortioners, unjust, swindlers, false wit- nesses, covetous, greedy of gain, forgers, bigamists, yea even trigamists ! that they clipped the coin of the realm ; that they be- trayed each other ; that they were perjurers, liars, and drunkards." The pretty, innocent-looking sheep were chuckling in their sleeves, for all they looked I AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 133 SO demure. " Oh ! the naughty men," they thought. But their turn was coming. "White Brown turned his eagle eye on to the fold. The men were quite pleased, and whis- pered, "It's their turn to get it now." And they did get it. They were told they were frivolous, light- minded, vain, triflers, lovers of dress, de- sirous of admiration, devoid of modesty, courters of the male sex ; that they had not a scrap of principle amongst the whole lot of them ; that they were one and all no better than a lot of painted Jezebels ; and finally, were one and all no better than they should be. How the men did enjoy this ! Lady George whispered to her sister, " If I dared, I'd throw my hassock at that man, and hymn-book too !" 134 FENACRE GRANGE. The church was then darkened, and White Brown's voice grew very sepulchral. The fact was, in his youth he had been a great lover of the drama, and he knew the telling effect that the gas-pipes have. There- fore he had placed under his sermon-rest a brass handle, in communication with the meter, with which he turned on the gas and turned it off again, according as his discourse tended heavenwards or down below. A blaze of light again, and he gives the blessing with uplifted hands. "How beautiful he looks!" say the for- giving little lambs he has called such hard names. " Like a cherubin !" White Brown goes into the vestry, where he sits after church to receive the confession of the penitent. All the goats go out, and most of the AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 135 sheep. A few silly ones of the fold stay be- hind, to confess to the were-wolf. They do not know the wolf has fangs, and sharp ones too, though he does grin and look so pleasant ! How any father or husband can allow those belonging to him to be sub- ject to the impertinent curiosity and dis- gusting questions asked in the confessional passes all comprehension. Nevertheless, two or three silly sheep went into the wolf's den. They came out, crying and sobbing. The wicked wolf had frightened them so w^ith hell and damnation, they did not know what to do, they were so wretched. He had never told them of the Saviour, whose precious blood cleanseth from all sin ; or of the " Grood Shepherd," who cares for His sheep. No ! he spoke of nothing but the black ugly devil, whose lake of fire, 136 FENACRE GRANGE. he assured them, they were doomed to share. Lady Fenacre was one of tlie silly sheep who went into the wolf's den. She came out jDale and trembling : she could hardly walk home. " Good gracious, Nelly !" said her sister. " "What did jOM see in Whitey Brown's den ? Old Bogy ?'^ " Oh, Lily !" she sobbed, " I am lost, eternally lost. He told me there was no place of repentance though I seek it carefully with tears. No hope ! no hope ! no hope ! lost, lost, lost ! He tells me I must dwell in everlasting burnings and torments, for ever and ever. No hope ! no hope ! no hope l" With these words she swooned away on the sofa. Lady George carried her, with the as- sistance of the servant, up to bed. ^ She AT CURSEUM CHAPEL. 137 opened lier eyes and sliut them again, mur- muring '' No liope ! no hope !" She started up in the night when her sister was watch- ing, stared round the room, and fell back with a despairing scream on to the bed, shrieking " No hope ! — no hope ! Lost for ever and eve}' !" The doctor was sent for, and pronounced her to be in a state of delirium, brought on by some great mental excitement. It might turn to brain fever, which in her weak state But he would call again early in the morning ; meanwhile, she was to be kept perfectly quiet, and was to have as few people in her room as possible. Lady George took all the nursing on her- self, and the doctor took leave, promising to call again early. CHAPTEE VI. PANDEMONIUM IN JERMYN STREET. *' There is thy gold ; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell : I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none." Shakspeaee. [HEN Charlie Forrester said good night to Lady Fenacre, at her sister's house in Curzon Street, he went straight down to the " hell " in Jermyn Street, with the money she had given him. " Oh ! the perfidy of the male sex !'* I can imagine the female persuasion here cry- ing out. "He's just been promising Nelly PANDEMONIUM IN JERMYN STREET. 139 he'll never do it more, and here lie is going there with her kiss still warm on his lips. Oh! the deceitfulness of the creatures!" Now, I cannot attempt to justify Charlie's going to places with such naughty names. I say I cannot attempt to justify him. " Promises are like pie-crusts, made to be broken," says the proverb, and I suppose Charlie thought so too; at all events, he went to the place with the naughty name. The gambling-house had no light stream- ing from the windows — no cheerful glow of the fire through the red curtains. One red lamp, looking like a bloodshot eye, burnt fiercely over the door. An eye that said, as plainly as possible, "I am bloodshot because 1 was drunk last night ; but if you so much as Idnt at it, I'll knock you down I" Charlie knocked at the door. It was 140 FENACllE GRANGE. opened instantaneously by a shabby, dissi- pated looking man, in a seedy suit of black. As soon as lie was in, the shabby man care- fully barred the door, but did not say any- thing. Forrester walked up a little narrow pas- sage, at the end of which were two green- baize folding-doors with glass eyes. He pushed one of them open and went in. A strong light was thrown down on the "board of green cloth" by shaded lamps suspended from the ceiling, and a crowd of haggard, anxious -looking faces were gazing at the croupiers, who were raking together the heaps of shining coin before calling another main. " Faites le jeu ! messieurs, faites le jeii r they cry as they rattle the dice. " Faites le jeu r Then some wretched man stakes his all on the next cast, murmuring between his PANDEMONIUM IN JERMYN STREET. 141 set teeth, " If I lose, — the river ! One splash, and the water will close over me and my misery!" " Seven's the main !" shout the croupiers. "The game's up !" he said, as he threw down his purse with his last piece of gold in it. "The game of life is up for me. Give me brandy !" he cried, hoarsely, to the waiter. "Brandy!" Just then the proprietor of the " infernal regions " came bustling up. " Don't be so down, Mr. Ewart. Better luck next time. Try again. I'll lend you the money. Try your luck again." Then "Pluto," as the habitues of his house called him, pulled out his purse, and selecting two crisp new Bank of England notes, pressed them into E wart's hand. Pluto saw that Ewart was getting what he termed "fractious." Pluto hated "scenes" 142 FENACRE GRANGE. in his dominions, and lie saw that Ewart was incUned to make one. Besides, he had got some novices there to-night, and it would not do to give them an impression that he was a hard taskmaster. He liked them to think he was a jovial kind of poten- tate, who never wanted to be paid — at least, only some day quite in the " dim outline of the future." " Take your dirty money !" said Ewart, throwing the notes in his face ; " take your dirty money ; it's the price of blood ! It's the price of tears, cryings, sorrows, and broken hearts : it's the price of a wife's misery, children's beggary, and a father's life !" " Calm yourself," said Pluto. " Have a bottle of 'fizz.' You'll be all right to- morrow. It's a little nervous excitement. You don't know what you are talking about. You'd better go home." PANDEMONIUM IN JERMYX STREET. 143 " Home !" sliouted Ewart, hoarsely, his voice choking with passion. " Home ! You've left me none. Can I go home to see my wife sitting by a fireless grate, hear my children crying for bread, and I have none to give them ? I ask yon all here, can I go Jiome ? You've robbed me of it/' he continued. ^* I have no home left. Yiper ! I'll send you home! Die !" With these words he sprang at Pluto's throat. A scuffle ensued. Tlie practised ears of the servants heard the noise outside. They came in, and quickly, as a matter of course, overpowered Ewart, and carried him out. They opened the street-door and thrust him out on to the steps. It created no sensation ; this sort of thing happened every night; and they calmly went and took their places again outside the green-baize doors. , 144 I'ENACllE GRANGE. Poor Pluto had fallen against the corner of the fender and cut his forehead ; and he went into his sanctum to bathe it with cold water, first sending an order to throw open the doors of the supper-room, and to the band to play some lively air there. There is nothing like wine and music to make them forget an unpleasant fracas like this. It's most unfortunate too — two or three new fellows here to night. Most unfortunate ! All the fellows crowded into the supper- room, and a regular babble of tongues and music, interspersed with a running fusillade of champagne corks, was to be heard. "What a row that old chap was making !" said young Spooner of the Civil Service, whom his fond j)arents in the provinces deemed at that moment to be in bed in his lodgings at Bays water. " What was it all about ?" * PANDEMONIUM IN JERMYN STREET. 145 " Only some fellow wlio thought old Pluto was rather hard on him/' replied his friend. " It's all humbug ; he's the most generous old chap going ; I saw him offer him a hun- dred pounds." All the young fellows who thought it was the " fast" thing to do to sit up all night smoking bad cigars which made them sick, and drinking gooseberry wine which gave them the stomach-ache, were congregated in one corner of the room. They are like un- fledged sparrows who hop about the house- tops, and watch the daring flight of the old birds. They try to do the same, but haven't the pluck. They make as much twittering though as the old birds, perhaps more ; to hear them talk you would think they were all Lotharios and Lovelaces, to a man. It always makes me laugh to see the young fools strutting up and down the Bur- VOL. I. 10 146 FENACRE GRANGE. lington, at five o'clock, with their hats on one side and little canes in their hands, and eye- glasses, which I know act as blmJcers, thinking all the female persuasion are dying for them, thinking they are doing the fast thing ; I say it makes me laugh. " Going to the Athole to-night. Tommy ?" you hear them say. "No, by Jove, no," replies the other young fool ; " too gweat a cwush and cwowd for me. Besides, I have got a jy<7y//." Lady George was dancing wdtli Fitz- charles. Fitzcharles was a cornet in the Life Guards Green, without a sixpence to bless THE DUCHESS OF MALDON "AT HOME." 249 himself with. Lady Greorge thought he was the very man to flirt with Minnie Snow- drop, and thereby " rile" her mother-in-law ; so she said to him — "Do you see that girl dancing with Major Stapleton?" " Yes," said Fitzcharles. " Well, then, she's the nicest girl in the room," said Lady George, "and a great pet of mine. I'll introduce you to her, and then you can go down to supper together like the babes in the wood." Fitzcharles was only just out of his teens, and Lady George was a widow of seven-and- twenty, so she treated him in a patronizing, motherly kind of way. " I shall be most happy, I'm sure," said Fitzcharles, not quite relishing her lady- ship's comparison. However he was soon consoled, for Lady George said, " Tell us all 250 FENACRE GRANGE. about that row of Queen and Stapleton*s, about Mdlle. Froufrou !" Here be was by tacit consent acknow- ledged a man of the world, so he was happy. Fitzcharles began the history of that famous affair. Lady George burst out laughing. "I always thought Henry was a fool, and now I know it !" she said. Fitzcharles continued his narration, which appeared to amuse her ladyship. " You must come and see me in Curzon Street. I like hearing the tittle-tattle of the clubs !" " That I certainly will," said Fitzcharles, much delighted. "Give me your arm," said Lady George, " and we'll go and find the other baby !" This speech made Fitzcharles grow red. THE DUCHESS OF MALDON "AT HOME. 251 Lady George saw tliis, and it amused her. " Here slie is !" slie exclaimed, as they stumbled on the Major and Miss Snowdrop on two arm-chairs, the former talking about wine and the " comet year," and the latter looking intensely bored. " Here, Minnie,'^ said Lady George, " I want to introduce you to a great friend of mine, Mr. Fitzcharles, of the Life Guards. Now, Charlie," she said to that beardless hero, " take Minnie down to supper, and don't make yourselves sick with bon- bons I" This was too hard upon poor Titzcharles ; the tip of his little toe blushed red in his patent-leather boots ! All the same, he managed to request Miss Snowdrop, with tolerable sang-froidy to go down to supper with him. 252 FENACRE GRANGE. The room was emptying fast, most of the lions having gone down to be fed. " Pretty sight to see Charlie and Minnie, isn't it?" said Lady George. " I don't see it," said Major Stapleton. " I think he's a conceited puppy !" The fact was that the Major was begin- ning to feel " spoony" on Miss Snowdrop, and by no means apj)roved of his subaltern carrying her off. However, Lady Greorge's conversation soon consoled him. " By Jove !" the Major was accustomed to say, " there's nothing like a woman of the world : beats all your bread-and-butter misses to fits." I think with the Major. When Loffcus Fenacre came into the room, he looked all round for his cousin : he had not seen Madeleine for years ; not since she was a lanky awkward girl of fourteen, who THE DUCHESS OF MALDON "AT HOME." 253 stooped and had hangnails ! He caught a glimpse of her hair : he knew her by that. It was the same glorious colour, only superbly coiffee instead of hanging on her shoulders in tangled masses. His heart beat as it used to when they pulled crackers together at Christmas parties. He wondered whether she would be the same to him now: he would go and speak to her, and see ! " How do you do, Madeleine ?" said her cousin. " Oh ! Loftus ! how do you do ? I am so glad to see you. It's years since we met !" "I wont disturb a family reunion,'' said Lord Henry, awfully glad to get away, because he wanted some supper ; and Made- leine would not go down, and he had not liked to leave her. ''Shall I send you anything up?" he added. 254 FENACRE GRANGE. " An ice and a glass of water, please," said Madeleine. Loftus and Madeleine were left alone in the ball-room, and they became as great friends as in the days of yore, when he had knocked down the big bully who would pull her hair. Madeleine thought her cousin much altered since she had seen him. He was then an awkward schoolboy with dusty hair, dirty hands, and no redeemable point in a featureless face but a pair of dark violet- blue eyes ! These eyes were there still, but the featureless face had developed into a profile fit for an Apollo. A waiter came in with an ice on a silver tray. He was a grey -haired waiter; very spruce and dapper. '' You will come and see us at the * Clarendon ' to-morrow, wont you, Loftus ? We go abroad next month." THE DUCHESS OF MALDOX '^AT HOME." 255 The waiter pricked up liis ear when he heard the word " Loftus." He knew who Madeleine was. When she came in he had said to the butler, "Whose that dev'lish fine girl, with yaller hair ?'' He looked hard at Loftus Feaacre as he handed Madeleine her ice. " I shall know him again," he said to himself. " A carrying on with his cousin while her pa's downstairs, is he? I have seen a thing or two in my time." The waiter was the proprietor of the private inquiry ofl&ce, Mr. Small. Just then the band struck up a galop, and all the people came up on hearing its strains. A ball is twice as spirited after the supper. I suppose it is the lemonade and toast-and-water. Loftus and Madeleine danced together, meanwhile Sir John frowned with darkened brow in the door- way. Major Stapleton was whirling Lady 256 FENACllE GRANGE. George round the room, and his subaltern, Fitzcharles, was dancing with Minnie Snow- drop. "I don't envy him now," thought the Major to himself; "I leave milk for the babies !" Two girls went to bed that night with their heads full of trousseaux and wedding favours. How many more I do not know. Those two were, Minnie Snowdrop and Madeleine Fenacre ; the latter had found the " ideal " at last. "^^^^^^ CHAPTER X. AT LORDS . " The noble game of cricket." .HE Harrow and Eton cricket matcli was the day after the Duchess of Maldons "At Home," and London was full of small boys in big " chimney-pots " and blue neckties. I always go to Lords' for this match, not because I care a screw which wins, cela mest egal; but I like seeing the '' world- lings," and one meets so many people one knows. The Duke of Maldon's drag was there : it VOL, I. 17 258 FENACRE GRANGE. had been sent to take up a commanding position on the previous evening, so that all trouble and anxiety was spared to its owner, who could go as late as he pleased and yet be certain of a good place. Very near the ducal "drag" was the Fenacre barouche, and just behind it was Lady George Fitz- reine's little '' miniature " brougham. The Duke had asked Lady George to go with him, but she had refused. " I'll come to you at luncheon time," she had said ; " but I like to go in my own carriage best." Lady George was of an independent turn of mind; besides it was much more com- fortable to sit in a brougham all day, than in the blazing sun on the roof of the drag. Lady George did not care a bit which, but she pretended she did. She had two little rosettes, one of dark and the other of light AT lords'. 259 blue. AVhen she saw an Harrovian coming up to speak to lier, she put on the dark ; when she descried an Etonian bearing down upon her, she sported the light. There was a little group of men round her brougham window, amongst whom were Major Stapleton, Loftus Fenacre, and Fitz- charles. " Good morning, Charlie !" she said to the latter. " Minnie will be here directly: she's coming with papa. There was a row-royal at breakfast this morning in Grosvenor Square about you !" All the men began to laugh. " Tell us all about it, Charlie !" they said. " Only my worldly mother-in-law was very angry with her niece for dancing with a Cornet instead of a Major," said Lady George, looking at Stapleton. " 'Pon my life !" said Stapleton, " I didn't 17—2 260 FENACRE GRANGE. want to dance with the girl. 'Pon my life, I didn't !" he added, with vehemence. " Oh ! it's all very well," said the whole party. " You were cut out. That's what it was," said Lady George. " I don't care — a — a, if I was," said Stapleton, angrily. " Have you seen your cousin this morn- ing ?" said Lady George to Loftus. '' No," said Loftus. " Then you must come to luncheon on the drag. Papa said I might ask who I liked. Your uncle and Madeleine are com- ing. You must come too, Charlie." " Thank you," said Fitzcharles. Stapleton looked anxiously at Lady George, hoping for an invitation ; but her ladyship saw him looking, and determined to sell him, by leaving him, as the Yankees AT lords'. 261 say, " out in the cold." Stapleton was furious. Here was liis subaltern asked to lunclieon with a Duke, and he, his superior officer, would have to go to a refreshment stall, if some one did not take pity on him. It was preposterous ! Lady George was in capital spirits : she had seen Sir John scowling when his daughter was dancing with her cousin the night before, and she had arranged for their meeting the next day. She had asked Fitz- charlfts to luncheon on the Maldon drag, on purpose to meet the Honourable Miss Snowdrop, and thus, by annoyance, exas- perate her mother-in-law to a pitch of frenzy. What fun luncheon would be ! She quite longed for two o^clock. Meanwhile the dark and li^ht blue are having a hard tussle on the greensward. Jack, from Eton, rushes up to the carriage 262 FENACRE GRANGE. where his mamma and sisters are sitting. " Our fellows have got eighty -nine runs/' he says. " Lubber is long-stop." " What's a long-stop ?" says one of the girls. " It isn't a back-stop," replies Jack ; " but all girls are so stupid, it^s no use trying to tell you anything about it." Then off he goes again. Tom, from Harrow, goes to his mamma and sisters, and says the same thing. They both gaze as anxiously on the " correct card " with the players' names, as if they were " Welchers " scanning the list of horses for the Derby Stakes or the Grand Prix. There is a slight cessation in the game ; somebody gets bowled out ; the players rush off to get beer ; all the spectators dis- perse over the field, and the whole ground looks like a sea of heads. A quarter of an hour, and the bell at the stand rings, and shouts of " Clear the course !" are heard. AT lords'. 26B The grass appears again, and the groups become thin and scattered, everybody hurries back to their carriages. Amongst others are the Duke and Duchess of Maldon and theii' niece, and Sir John Fenacre and his daughter ; the latter closely followed by Lord Henry Fitzreine. Queen had fallen in love with Madeleine, or fancied he had, at his mother's ball. His parents approved of his attachment, and her Grrace had made the luncheon party with the express purpose of forwarding her son's matrimonial prospects. " Eeally," said her Grace, " heiresses are so very scarce now, and Miss Fenacre would look so very well in the Maldon diamonds. In all schemes for her son's marriage the Duchess always put this question to herself, " How would she look in the Maldon dia- monds ?" If she was able to answer herself 264 FENACRE GRANGE. in the affirmative, she laid her plans ; if not, she dismissed her mental aspirant to a coronet and strawberry -leaves without fur- ther ceremony. Her one horror of death was the thought, " Who can wear the Maldon diamonds as I have done ?" and at last she had found one worthy to be her successor ; so she meant to spare no pains to induce Madeleine to become Lady Henry Mtzreine. " Poor Dagenham !" her Grace would say, with a sigh, '*' cannot last long !" The Duchess always thought of Lord Henry as her eldest son. There is a vast diflference between an eldest son and the others in the eyes of " worldlings." The Duke and his party arranged them- selves on the roof of the drag, to see the match. To tell the truth, none of them looked at it except his Grace. Madeleine was thinking AT lords'. 265 of her cousin, and Lord Henry was racking his brains to try and find something to say to her. Sir John was talking to the Duchess : indeed, her Grrace had hinted very broadly to the Baronet, that an alliance between the houses of Maldon and Fenacre was the dearest wish of her heart. Sir John was dehghted : to be the father of a Duchess had exceeded his wildest dream of ambition, and here was the eldest son of a ducal house — almost the eldest son — making love to his daughter under his very nose ! "Poor Dagenham is so very delicate," said the Duchess, with a sigh, as she looked at the two. This was meant for Sir John to hear, and he heard it. " By Jove !" thought the Baronet, "there is an elder brother, and I wont have my daughter marrying a penniless younger son. By Jove, I wont ! " 2CC FENACRE GUANGE. "He gets worse every day," said the Duchess, dropping a tear, as she saw Sir John was looking a little uneasy. Just then Lady George came up to the drag with Loftus Fenacre and Fitz- charles. " I have asked Mr. Fenacre and Mr. Fitz- charles to luncheon, papa," she said to the Duke. " Very glad to see them," said his Grace. "You'd better all come up here, and we'll have it now.'' Lady George clambered up the ladder first, and took her seat by the Duke. She made room for Loftus Fenacre next to Madeleine, and for Fitzcharles by Miss Snowdrop. " Now we are all a very nice little party/' she said. The Duchess did not think so : she bowed stiffly when Loftus and Fitzcharles got up AT lords'. 267 on the drag, and then went on talking to Sir John. Major Stapleton was hovering about in hopes of catching her Grrace's eye, and getting an invitation to luncheon. He suc- ceeded, for the Duchess saw him. " Grood morning. Major Stapleton," she said. " Frmj come up and have some luncheon. There is a place by Miss Snow- drop ; Mr. Fitzcharles will not object to resigning it in favour of his superior officer." " Mr. Fitzcharles will keep where he is," said Lady George. "Major Stapleton can come and sit by me." "Delighted," said Stapleton, with a beaming face. Lady George made room for him; the Duchess, with darkened brows, went on talk- ing to Sir John. 208 TEN ACRE GRANGE. « The worthy Baronet was not sitting on a bed of roses by any means. There was his daughter talking to his young puppy of a nephew, whilst a Duke's eldest son — almost eldest son — was sitting unheeded on the other side ! It was enough to lacerate any father's heartstrings, let alone a thorough- bred " worldling " like Sir John Fenacre. ''The young people of the present age are so very independent," said the Duchess ; "they absolutely presume to have ideas of their own. I think that horrid Eeform Bill' has got something to do with the moving or primary cause of it! In wy youth, young people did not speak to each other without permission from their parents. NoiD, if a girl meets a young fellow she likes at a ball, she asks him to call on her the next day. Oh, the good old times !" AT lords'. 269 " Ah, indeed !" said Sir John, with a sigh ; " they 2vere times !" "As to dancing with a man that their chaperon, had told them not to, they wouldn't have dreamt of it," continued her Grace. " Noii\ they whirl round the room in utter defiance of all lawfully-constituted authorities." The Duchess was making these remarks in a pointed way, loud enough to be heard by her niece, Miss Snowdrop. " There's mamma moralizing on the general laxity of the present age," said Lady Greorge. " You are the worst companion for a young girl I know of," said her Grace, in a rage. " You fill their heads with all kinds of revolutionary notions !" " I know I am a Eed Republican," said Lady George. " Vive la liberie f 270 FEN A CUE GRANGE. " Bravo ! Lily," said the Duke ; " you'll be blowing up the 'King and all his ministers/ like Guy Fawkes, some day!" " No ; I shan't do that," said Lady George ; '* because I shouldn't like a general inundation of the canaille ^ The two girls, who had gone to bed the night before dreaming of trousseaux, were very happy. Madeleine wore a white muslin dress, and a black silk jacket wdth a sash round the waist, and a tiny black net bonnet. She was well dressed, and had a lover ! What girl would not be happy under those circumstances? Poor little Minnie Snowdrop was getting what she was quite unaccustomed to — unbounded admiration and adoration ! Again, I ask, could she help feeling happy? AT lords'. 271 " Did you two pocket any bon-bons last nigbt ?" said Lady George. " Please don't/' said Minnie. When a girl does not know what else to say when she is chaffed about an affaire de coeur, she always says, " Please don't" — that is, if the heart Jias anything to do with it. In cases where she is only amusing herself, she is generally ready with some repartee. " By Jove ! Lady George," said Stapleton, " you are too hard on Titzcharles. We always call him * baby' in the regiment !" " He is worth the whole lot of you," said Lady George. "I hate your regular old hands, who talk about ' ours' interminably, and have always got some long-winded story, beginning ' When I was quartered at Beggars' Bush.' " Major Stapleton looked grave : his favourite story began like that. 272 FENACllE GRANGE. Lady George knew it, and burst out laughing. Fitzcliarles looked pleased ; he inwardly determined to tell the story of the Major's discomfiture at the mess that night. The Duchess talked steadily to Sir John without looking at the party on the drag, though she had got her ears well open to all that was going on. "Are you Harrow or Eton, Lady George ?" said Stapleton. " Whichever you like," said her lady- ship. " I am a neutral party." " By Jove ! that's a good hit,' said the Duke. " Eun ! run :" he continued, ex- citedly, just as if the players could hear what he said. There was another pause in the game, and the field was covered with people. AT lords'. 273 "I propose a walk round/' said Lady Greorge. " What says everybody else ?" " I second it," said Madeleine. She saw her father was looking at her with no pleased expression. "I think it much more comfortable sitting here/' said Lord Henry, who was deep in the mysteries of a pigeon-pie. " Henry is the most sensible one of the party," said the Duchess. " If all the others go, Minnie will stay where she is. She looks quite tired after last night/' '•' I am not at all tired, aunt," said Miss Snowdrop. " You look it," said her Grace, " and that's all the same thing !" " Well, I vote we go," said Lady George to Stapleton. " What do you think ?" " I think whatever you do," said Staple- ton, politely. VOL. I. 18 274 FENACRE GRANGE. " All riglit, then we'll go," she replied, and Lady George got down from the roof of the drag without any assistance. Then Madeleine got down, and, of course, Loftus followed her. Miss Snowdrop sat where she was. " Ain't you coming, Minnie ?" said Lady George. " No," said the Duchess ; " Minnie will stay where she is. You're going, ain't you ?" continued her Grace, looking Fitz- charles full in the face — it was the first time she had spoken to him. ''You're going with the others, are you not ?" The poor youth blushed and got very red, and began to stammer out, " Perhaps I'd better " " Stay where you are," said Lady George. " I want to talk to you about some thea- tricals I am thinking of getting up." AT lords'. 275 " Pray sit here as long as you like,'*' said the Duke : "it's the best position for seeing the game on the ground." " You can see just as well in the front row/' said the Duchess. " I suppose I may ask any one I like to sit on my own drag ?" said the Duke, angrily. " Certainly," replied his wife. " I only thought Mr. Fitzcharles would see better; and as he has only just left school, he would see a good many boys he knew." Then she went on talking to Sir John about the lamentable laxity of the present age, and the fearful precociousness of young people ! Sir John agreed with all she said. The Baronet was not so happy as he had been at the ball on the previous evening. There was Lord Henry, who seemed tout devoue on that occasion, actually preferring pigeon-pie and iced Moselle to walking with 18—2 27G FENACRE GRANGE. his daughter in the broiling sun ! It was too bad, after his marked attentions at the ball. *' It's much jollier sitting up here," said Queen, as he put down his wineglass. "By Jove, it is !'' These words went like an arrow to the father's heart. Besotted wretch ! to prefer vile creature- comforts to the feast of reason and flow of soul he might have enjoyed in a walk with Madeleine. Besotted wretch ! Meanwhile the four who had ^ot down from the drag, made the grand tour of the ground. " Look at old Whitey Brown walking into that lobster-salad," said Lady George. " By Jove ! yes," said Stapleton, as he turned his eyes to where that holy man was having luncheon with one of his fair penitents. AT lords'. 277 "I liope the sauce will disagree with him!" said Lady George, fervently. "He frightened my poor little sister, Lady Fenacre, out of her wits the other day, with stories about Old Bogy !" " I hope it will," said Stapleton. " Those parsons always get a pull over us with the women. They tell them all their little peccadilloes, and then they get absolution for a few kisses !" "Then I suppose Nelly wouldn't kiss him in the vestry the other day, because he wouldn't give it to /le?-/'' said Lady George. "Very likely," said Stapleton. "He threatened a daughter of a friend of mine with excommunication the other . day, because the family found out that he was fleecing her to the tune of five hundred a year, and they put a stop to it !" 278 FENACRE GRANGE. " The old wretch !" said Lady George. " Do you see him smirking at that girl ?" " By Jove, yes !" said Stapleton, " She's putting mustard on his bits of lobster as he eats them !" "I hope she'll put a lot, and burn his tongue !" said Lady George. Loftus and Madeleine were not passing their remarks on the assembled "world- lings ;" they were wrapped up in each other, and had no looks or thoughts for any one else. " 1 wish you weren't going abroad," said Loftus. " I can't bear to think I shall not see you for months !" " I wish we weren't going," said Made- leine; "but papa has made up his mind. Besides, the Maldons are going with us ; and in that case he wouldn't dream of giving it up !" AT lords'. 279 *' Oh ! the Maldons are going too/' said Loftus. " Is that fool of a son going with them?" " Lord Dagenham is going," said Made- leine. " He^s going to the Grerman baths." "I don't mean him," said Loftus. "I mean Queen, the second brother !" " Oh ! Lord Henry !" said Madeleine. " Yes !" said Loftus. *' He's going as well," said Madeleine. " Confound him !" said Loftus, " what can a stupid fool like him want to go abroad for?" " To sharpen his Avits, perhaps," said Madeleine. "If he went round the world," said Loftus, " he would be just as great a fool when he got back again." " The poor man can't do better than try, at all events," said Madeleine. 280 I'ENACllE GRANGE. " How do you like tlie Grange ?" said Loftus. '•' 1 can't bear it," said Madeleine. " It's such a damp, dismal place ; nothing but fogs, marshes, and salt water. It's only fit for fen fowl." "Not fit for Fenacrc^'i to live in!" said Loftus, making a lame and wretched attempt at a pun. '' Certainly not," said Madeleine. " Be- sides, whenever I am there I can't help thinking of Uncle Eichard's horrible end. Whenever I look out of window on the waste I think of it ; and sometimes at night, when I go upstairs, I fancy I hear guns fired and the splash of oars on the water. Oh! it's a horrible place !" Madeleine shuddered as she said this, though she was in a crowd on the cricket- ground at Lord's AT lords'. 281 " Some one must be walking over your grave/' said Loftus. " It's a curious thing that there seems to be no clue of any kind to the murder. What does your father think about it ?" " He never speaks of it," said Madeleine. " He says the subject is too painful." A smile j)assed involuntarily over the face of Loftus Fenacre as Madeleine said this. It was notorious that the two brothers hated one another, and had not been on speaking terms for years. "Hasn't he taken any steps about it?" said Loftus. " I don't think so," said Madeleine. "He says it never can be found out, so it's no use trying. I believe it''s half the reason why he's so anxious to go abroad, because he's bothered so by the people at Ireland Yard. There's a man named Small, who 282 TENACllE GRANGE. has been two or three times to see him at the Clarendon. Papa said he asked a good many questions about you. Papa thought he was a sheriff's officer, or something of that sort at first, so he told him that he wasn't going to pay your debts, if that was what he wanted." " Uncle John would be a long while be- fore he'd pay my debts !" said Loftus, laughingly. " I wonder though what that fellow Small wanted to know about me ?" The bell at the stand began to ring, and people who were walking about all hurried back to their carriages. The same party who had luncheon on the Maldon drag were assembled there again. " I've seen lots of fellows I know," said Lady George ; " and I've seen Whitey Brown eating lobster-salad in Miss Lambkin's brougham. It was such fun !" AT lords'. 283 " Eeally, Lily, one would think you were a man/' said her mother-in-law, "to hear you talk in that way." "Thank goodness I'm not," she replied. " They may call us the soft sex, but I think the other is immeasurably the softest of the two !" " Will you act in my theatricals, Charlie ?" said Lady Greorge. "Yes," he replied. " Will you ?" she asked of Miss Snowdrop. "Yes," replied Minnie. " Minnie can't act a bit," said her aunt. " She'll spoil your piece. You'd better ask somebody else." Poor Miss Snowdrop looked very much disappointed. " Yes, she can," said the Duke. "I've seen her : she's as good as Furtado, or Amy Fawsett." 284 TEN ACRE GRANGE. The Duchess looked daggers at her lord, but her lord was intent on the match, and he did not see it. If he had, he would not have cared. " You'll act, wont you, Madeleine ?*' said Lady Greorge. " ril do my best," she replied. " But I am quite unaccustomed to the sort of thing." '' So is Minnie !" said her Grace, out loud. *' She would spoil any piece she was in." "Will you act?" said Lady George to Loftus. " Yes," he replied. Sir John here became uneasy ; if it was any one else's theatricals he would have for- bidden his daughter to act, but Lady George ntzreine was a scion of the house of Maldon, and that noble race must be courted by him in all its branches. There was a talk of the Duke getting a " place " in the next minis- AT lords'. 2S5 try, and the Baronet was ambitous of office. Besides, he wished his daughter to be the Duchess someday, so he grinned his approvaL " I should like to act," said Queen. " You /" said Stapleton. " You'd .never be able to learn your. part. At school you never got over i\\Q pons asinorum.'' "Henry is but little inferior to Buck- stone,! assure you," said the Duchess. "Mr, White Brown told me so !" " What a flat you were to believe him !" said the Duke. " What a splendid idea !" said Lady Greorge. " Did you hear it, Queen ?" "Me? No. What?" " Whitey Brown said you were the greatest scamp in London !" replied her ladyship. " Did he really ? Then I should like to punch his head !" said Queen. 286 FEN ACRE GRANGE. " 1 propose we meet in Curzon Street to- morrow," said Lady George, " and talk over the piece." " Her ladyship's proposition was carried nem. con. CHAPTER XL BEFORE THE CURTAIN. "Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones." — Old Peoyeeb. " All is not gold that glitters." — Ibid. T is a universally acknowledged axiom, that every one "before the curtain" is pious, moral, and well conducted; also, that all "behind the scenes" are "no better than they should be." Hespectable people thank goodness that there is an impassable fosse^ in the shape of the orchestra pit, with a good chevaux- de-frise of cornopeans, cymbals, drums, 2SS FENACRE GRANGE. fiddles, and sax-horns, between them and the wicked people who are amusing tliem on the stage — a fosse preserving them from contamination. One step over the my.stic line of the footlights is enough to damn any man or woman in the eyes of respect- able (?) people ! I dislike " respectable'' people ! By this I do not mean that I prefer the society of Bohemians; I merely mean I detest people who have got nothing but their "respectability" to clothe themselves w^ith as with a garment. They may be dull, triste^ wearisome, and prosy, but it is all to be pardoned to them if they are ''re- spectable." Preserve me from respectable people pur et simple ! About a week after the " Harrow and Eton," the Duchess of Maldon and party honoured the performances at BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 289 '' Her Higlmess's" with their presence ; the opera that night was Gounod's " Faust." The Duchess had a box on the grand tier, beautifully fitted up with crimson damask, white lace, and gilt mirrors. Of course, as her Grace had a box at the opera, she never went. It is the way of the world : people never care about what they have got, they always hunger after some- thing they have not I People who have car- riages do not care to go in them, and prefer walking; people who have not, curse their hard fate in having to toil in the mire, instead of rolling on wheels ! Those who have horses never ride them; those who have not, think nothing so enjoyable as a good gallop, and cannot conceive why the owners of Bucephalus do not " take it out of him" more ! The reason is because no one ever is satisfied or content. If Endymion had got VOL. T. 19 290 FENACRE GRANGE. the moon wlien he cried for it, he would not have been satisfied till he had got the sun ; and even tlieii he would have wanted the stars. People never are satisfied, and why- should the Duchess be content with her opera-box, and thereby form an exception to the general rule ? The Duchess of Maldon and her niece, the Honourable Miss Snowdrop, were alone in her Grace's box. The loge^ as the French call it, held twelve : it was the best in the house, except the Royal, and yet its owner did not care about it ! The delightful operation of tuning the fiddles was being performed, accompanied l)y the usual gratings and screamings of remonstrating catgut. Some people like to hear the fiddles tuned. A Newmarket celebrity of former times used to go to his stall at " Her Highness's," for the express purpose of hearing it, and BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 291 almost invariably left before the opera com- menced. There is no accounting for taste, though his certainly was a peculiar one ! The house was beginning to fill, and the Duchess was sweeping the tiers with her double-barrelled ivory opera-glass. "What a set there are to-night!" said her Grace. " It used to be very different. In Malibran's time the opera was only a lounge for our set. Now all kinds of people come: it's quite a bourgeois sort of thing!" I am afraid Miss Snowdrop was not lis- tening to her aunt's tirade against any one presuming to enjoy music save the owners of coronets. She was raking the stalls with her little mother-o'-pearl glass, to see who she could see ! '' I wish Lily would come," said her Grace. ^' She's always late for everything." " So do I," replied her niece, who began to fear she would have a tete-a-tete with 19—2 292 FENACRE GRANGE. the Duchess, who Avas not in the best of tempers. The fact was, the soup had been bad at dinner, and his Grace had told his wife that " if she didn't pitch into the cook he would!" Furthermore, he had refused to accompany her to the opera, and liad gone to his club — the " Fogies" — instead. His wife hated him spending his evenings at the '' Fogies :" he always lost a lot of money at whist, and was so quarrelsome when he came home ! " I asked Major Stapleton to come to our box," said the Duchess, " and the Fenacres too." " I hope the Fenacres will come," replied Miss Snowdrop. '' And why don't you hope Major Staple- ton will come?" said the Duchess. " Because I don't care about him," said her niece. BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 293 "Don't care about him!" sneered her Grace. "If it had been that young fool whom Lily brought to luncheon on the drag at Lords' you wouldn't say that. If I'd known he was going to act in the theatricals in Curzon Street, you shouldn't, I promise you!" Then her Grace turned her glass on to the stalls. "I see Henry talking to that young nephew of the Fenacres," said her Grace ; " and there's a little bald-headed man standing with them. I wish Henry would come up here : the Fenacres will be here directly !" Just then the latch of the box-door was turned, and it opened to admit Sir John and Miss Fenacre. "aSo glad to see you," said her Grace, shaking hands with them both. " I began to be afraid you weren't coming!'' 294 FENACllE GRANGE. " I had to write some letters after dinner," replied the Baronet, '' and that kept us. How full the house is to-night?" he con- tinued. " Yes, very," said her Grace. *' But ivhat a set they are !" " As I came in," said the Baronet, '' I actually saw some of the people getting out of street-cabs — it's positively awful to contemplate what the precocity of the lower classes will lead to ! What can they want to come to the opera for. The lyric drama is meant for the haut-ton. The people have got the waxworks and the British Museum, and they ought to be contented with them !" " Of course they ought,^' said the Duchess. '' They have got the most elevating amuse- ments to themselves, and ought not to encroach upon ours. We never go to the British Museum or the waxworks, Avhy should they come to the opera ?" BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 295 '' Why, indeed!" said Sir John. The Duchess was one of those people who think that the " lower classes" do not require any amusement or relaxation, when in reality it is just those, whose lives are necessarily passed in unceasing toil, who do require diversion. The cheap operas abroad are surely more beneficial to the nation than the legion of public-houses which hold possession of London. Music is more likely to refine and elevate than beer and gin ! and the Government that gives the State support to music and the drama is surely doing something towards educating the masses. However, there is too much of the puri- tanical leaven left in England even to dream of such a state of things at present. Fancy the bowlings from the Exeter Hall party if the House of Commons voted a sum of money to establish a national opera ! Not 296 I'ENACllE GKANGE. a member of the " Ayes,"' if the bill was passed, would ever set foot in St. Stephen's again. The same chapel-interest that has been at work in the recent elections would strive might and main, with their accus- tomed disregard of truth and fair play, to oust the "wicked" from their seats, and send the aspirant to national honours empty aAvay ! The door of the box was opened again, and Lady George Fitzreine came in, fol- lowed by her sister, Lady Fenacre. Lady George was dressed in white satin, with a rose-coloured sacque; the body was cut square in front, and was trimmed with black lace and rose-coloured ribbons; she wore a. pearl tiara on her head, and had pearls on her neck and arms. Lady Fenacre was dressed very plainly in black net, with jet ornaments. BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 297 "What could have made you so late?" said the Duchess, when Lady George came in. '• The first scene's over." '• Oh, Loftus Fenacre and Fitzcharles dined with me," she replied. " And we began to talk about the theatricals, and forgot all about the time." " Oh !" said her Grace, " that all ?" Then she looked steadily on to the stage. When Lady George came into the box, she had dragged one of the gilt chairs up to the ledge, and had arranged her fan, bouquet, and scent-bottle on it, and had then loosed her arm so as to show that and her brace- lets to the best advantage. When she was comfortably settled, she began to " take stock " of the people assembled. " I wish some one we knew would come in," she said, at length. " I don't," said her mother-in-law. " We do very Avell as we are. People come to the 298 FEN ACRE GRANGE. opera to hear the iiuisic, not to talk to their friends'^ " I wish some one would come, all the same," said Lady George. Just then the door opened again, and Loftus Fenacre and Fitzcharles came in. " Lady George kindly asked us to come here," said Loftus. " Very happy to see any of my daughter s friends," said the Duchess, with a look which meant, '' I should like to kick you head fore- most out !" The Duchess very often had people in her box she did not like. She was obliged to be civil to them ; if she was not Lady George always told the Duke, and then his marital wrath was terrible. " I have the box for Lily, not you," he once said. ''And she asks whoever she likes, and you had better be civil to them." " Come and sit here, Charlie," said Lady George, "between Minnie and me. I want BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 299 to ask you who some of the people are." " Who's that man with a bald head talk- ing to Queen?" said her ladyship. " Oh, a fellow named Mandarin," replied Fitzcharles. " He says he was in the army, and calls himself a major. He keeps a gambling-house in Jermyn Street, and gambling-houses are called ' hells,' so the fellows nicknamed him ' Pluto.' " " Is there a Proserpine there too ?" said Lady George. " Not that I know of," replied Fitz- charles. " Who's that woman in that little box in the corner with a blue silk dress and a lot of diamonds ?" asked Lady George. " It's Traviata," said Fitzcharles. '' How much?" said her ladyship. '•'- Traviata," said Fitzcharles, again. "Do you think she's good looking?" 300 FENACRE GRANGE. '' No," said Lady George, " I doiVt." No woman ever did allow yet that another was good looking; it is against nature for them to do so. "I don't believe that's her own hair," said Lady George. "It's all false, ever}' bit of it." Just then the lady in question turned her glass on to the Maldon box. " How she does stare !" said Lady George. ''However, I don't care; people may look at me as long as they like, if it's any plea- sure to them." Some of the " respectable" people think that one should not go to the opera because Traviata does. If that is the case, people should not drive in the Park, or " walk in the Zoo." We should not go to church, the parson, the clerk, the choir, and the congregation are all miserable sinners — everyone. They all say so every Sunday. BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 301 Madeleine was sitting at the back of tlie box, and was neither listening to the music nor looking at the acting — she was talking to her cousin. Sir John heard the murmur of voices behind him, and turned round and frowned ; the Duchess heard it, and looked round, with no pleased expression. "I wish people wouldn't talk," she said, in a pointed manner. '^ They'd better stay at home if they want to do that." Both the frown and her Grace's remarks were as powerless to stop the conversation as a wooden barrier would be to stem Niagara 1 — on it went. '* Don't talk," said the Duchess to her niece, who had not spoken all the evening. " I have told you a dozen times how I hate it." " Minnie hasn't opened her mouth," said Lady George. ''I have been talking ; 302 FENACRE GRANGE. when I liave anything to say I always say it, wherever I may be !" " It's a great nuisance to other people,'' said the Duchess. " I clon't care about that," said Lady George. " I always please myself ; other people may like what I do or not, which- ever they please ; it's the same to me." " Your sister throws down the gauntlet to the world in the most defiant manner !'' said her Grace to Lady Fenacre. '* I am glad to see that you have sufficient spirit to come into society again so soon after that sad affair,' she continued. Lady Fenacre's eyes filled with tears ; the Duchess saw it, and was pleased. She was a thorough bully, and was never so happy as when she was bullying any one who had not the pluck to retort. " Some people have such wonderful BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 303 nerve," said the Duchess ; then she looked on to the stao^e afj^ain. Just then Queen came into the box. " How late you are !" said his mother. *' Why didn't you come up before ?" " Oh ! I was talking to Mandarin," he replied. The Duchess looked grave ; she had heard dark hints about Major Mandarin, and the financial scrapes into which he inveigled young men. Lady Mountchessington had told her all about the mess he had got her son into ; also what a comfortable sum in the Three per Cents, she had been obliged to sell out to disentangle him from his embarrassments. The Duchess thought of all this, and a cloud came over her brow. " AYe might have to sell the diamonds," she thought, and turned pale at the bare idea of such awful sacrilege ! 304 FENACRE GRANGE. " T wish you didn't know that man," said the Duchess to her son. " Why not ?" said Lord Henry ; " he's the j oiliest fellow going !" "Who's that you are talking about?" said Lady George. " Old Pluto?'' "Pray, who is old Pluto?" said the Duchess, with dignity. " One wants the Slang Dictionary when one talks to you ! I confess lam not * up' (I believe that's your term) in the English language, as spoken in the present day." " Pluto was kino^ of the infernal re^^ions " O 7 said Lady George. " I learnt it at school ; also that Proserpine was his wife. The book didn't say whether they had any family ; unless, perhaps, the 'bottled imps' in the toy-shops are their offspring." " By Jove, Lily !" said Queen, '' I wish I knew as much about the classics as you do. I never remembered the names of BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 305 any of the mythologies but Bacchus ; and he was the god of war, wasn't he ?" ''No/' said Lady George; "he's the patron saint of the teetotals !" "By Jove ! so he is," said Queen. "I thous^ht so." Just at this epoch the house was darkened for the organ scene. The scene in which the light is seen streaming from the windows of a cathedral, and the solemn strains of an organ come softly through the open lattices. A group of peasant women approach and kneel before the porch, and chant an " Ave" slowly in time to the music. There is something very beautiful in the union of the drama, scenery, and music, embodied in the one word, " opera." The women still continued to kneel, and most of the glasses were levelled at them ; Lady George's amongst the number. VOL. I. 20 306 FEN ACRE GRANGE. All of a sudden, Lady George changed colour, and the words, "It cant be!" escaped almost involuntarily from her lips. "What canH be?" said Sir John, who was sitting next to her. " Nothing," she said ; " only I fancied that the woman kneeling in front was some one I once knew. It's only imagination, of course." '' Let me look," said the Baronet. Lady George gave him the glass, and when he had carefully adjusted it to his own sight, he levelled it at the kneeling group. Lady George watched his countenance as he looked ; he turned deadly pale, and his hand shook ; he nearly dropped the glass. " It was only your imagination,'' said the Baronet, with a sickly smile. "Let me look again," said Lady George. BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 307 '* It is her," she said, after looking a few minutes; then she turned to Sir John, and said, " Did you know she was doing this?" " I? Who? What do you mean?" said the Baronet. " What should I know about it?" " Family relationship," said Lady George. The Baronet shook in his seat, as Lady George transfixed hini with a searching glance. " For pity's sake, don't !" said Sir John, with a whining voice. " For pity's sake, don't! I'll do something for her. Upon my word I will. The match will be all off directly if the Duchess should hear any- thing about it. She's so dreadfully particu- lar. A man cannot be expected to keep all his poor relations going. He's got enough to do to keep himself. For Made- 20—3 308 FENACRE GRANGE. leine's sake, don't : she knows nothing about it — for her sake !" '' For her sake only," said Lady George, " shall I refrain from publishing your generosity and kindness to your wife's sister in her distress !" *^ Because a man marries one sister, he doesn^t go in for the whole lot," said Sir John. " And it's beastly unfair for people to expect him to," he continued, with an injured-innocence kind of air. " Your wife's sister, and your child's aunt, has surely got some sort of claim upon you ?" said Lady George. " How- ever, if you don't like to see her your- self, I will undertake to be your almo- ner." Sir John winced. He did not like the word at all. He did not yet think that it was *' more blessed to give than to receive." He imasrined the whole world to be leagued to- BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 309 gether in a conspiracy against his balance at his banker's. " I have really had so many expenses," he whined, " that I really can't afford to do much for her — I can't, indeed. There's the furniture must be paid for, and the legacy duty. I can't do much — 1 can't, indeed." " But you can do something,'' said Lady George. " I don"t mind allowing her half-a-crown a week, if you'll undertake to give it to her. It's more than that scamp of a husband of hers ever gave her.'' "In that case you wdll give it yourself," said Lady George. " I wash my hands of the affair altogether. " ''What am I to do?" said Sir John, with tears in his eyes. " If the Duchess hears of it, it will be an end of everything. What am I to do?" 3J0 I'ENACllE GRANGE. Lady George took no notice of him till at last he asked her, point blank, " What am I to do?" " Give me four pounds a week," said Lady George, " and I'll undertake to give it to her." '^Four pounds! It would ruin me — it would, indeed. I can't do it — it's impos- sible." " Then I shall not keep silence," said Lady George. Sir John was nearly crying. ^' I shall have to give up everything if I do," he said, with a sob : " every blessed thing !" "What? when you've got eight thousand a year?" ''It's only seven," said Sir John. ''Ke- pairs are so ruinous on the estate. They cost me a thousand a year !" "Well, you've got a clear seven left," said Lady George. BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 311 '' Whafs seven thousand a year ?" said Sir John. " A mere bagatelle." *' What's nothing per annum?" said Lady George. " A mere flea-bite." " By Jove, Lady George, you make fun of everything ! By Jove, you do." " Will you give four pounds a week ?" said Lady George. "If the Duchess gets a hint of this, it's all up with the match. Fancy Lady Dagenham talking of ''My aunt, the chorus-singer at ' Her High- ness's!' The thing would never do — would it?" " No, it ivouldnt^'' said Sir John. " But I think it's plaguey hard lines for me, all the same." " Four pounds a week isn't much to pay for your daughter becoming a Duchess," said Lady George. " People must pay for their advantages." 312 FENACRE GRANGE. The organ scene was now over, and the singers, who had given rise to the fore- going conversation, had gone off the stage. The drums and trumpets of the band struck up the " Soldiers* Chorus/' and a body of brass-helmeted warriors marched on from the side-scenes, their band playing the same stirring strains. This time, as Lady Fenacre swept their ranks with her glasses, she paused at the second front rank on the right. It was very like — but no, it couldn't be. Had not she heard l^e was found drowned in the "silent highway" that threads its course through the heart of London, laving its shores with its black, Stygian flood; a thick, swift-flowing river, that has carried away many a sorrow-laden cor23se to the open sea ! Yet it was ver}^ like. " Will you come round with me to the stage-door, Charlie?" said Lady George. '* I want to see the people come out. I BEFORE THE CURTAIN. 313 have a curiosity to see what they look like without their war-paint." " I shall be most happy," said Fitzcharles, who was talking to Minnie about love in a cottage, or some equally Utopian and ex- ploded theory, quite out of place in the nineteenth century. " We'll wait till the people have gone out a little before we move," said Lady George. " There's such a crush outside always." The Duchess of Maid on collected her flock and made her exit, Sir John giving her his arm to the carriage. All the lamps were dying out, and the box cushions were being swathed in brown holland. " It's enough to give one the 'blues,' " said Lady George, "to see how dismal it all looks. The very fiddle-cases look like coffins! I vote we go," continued her ladyship. " You take care of Nelly, and I'll take care of myself Come on !" 314 FENACRE GJIANGE. Lady Fenacre was trembling with agita- tion, and could hardly walk. " Drive down to the stage-door, and wait there," said Lady George. '' How you do shake !" she said to her sister. " Are you cold ?" " No," said Lady Fenacre. The stage-door was a small black one that looked as if it was ashamed of itself: the one at the new " Gaiety" is the only one that does not present that appearance. '^ Now let's sit and w^atch the noble warriors come out, minus their brass hats and embroidered dresses," said Lady George. " They'll look very like brandy-and- water without the brandy, I daresay.*' END OE VOL. I. t ANTHONY TROLLOPE'S WORK I NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION. i| Prue 2s. each. Picture Boards : 2s. dci. Cloih.. lOTTA SCHMIDT. MART GRESLEY. DOCTOR THORlfE. RACHEL RAT. THE MACDERMOTS. TAIESOEALLCOIJlfTRE CASTIE RICHMOND. MISS MACKENZIE. THE KELLTS. THE BERTRAMS. BELTON ESTATE. WEST liiDIES. Price 4J. Cloth {Dottble Vols.), przce y. Picture Loiuu.>. ORLEY PARM. CAN YOU EOR&IVE HEI PHINEAS FINN. HE KNEW HE WAS RI&B " In one respect Mr. TroUope deserves praise i m ^ ii i ;,. >.. and Thackeray do not deserve. Many of his stories are more U throughout to that unity of design, that harmony of tone and coif which are essential to works of art. In one of his Irish stories, '1 Kellys and the O'Kellys,' the whole is steeped in Irish atmosphej the key-note is admirably kept throughout ; there is nothing i^ levant, nothing that takes the reader out of the charmed circle, the involved and slowly unwound bead-roll of incidents. We ,« nothing as to the other merits of the story— its truth to life^'j excellence of the dialogue, the naturalness of the characters— j Mr. Trollope has these merits nearly always at his command, j has a true artist's idea of tone, of colour, of harmony ; his pictui are one ; are seldom out of drawing ; he never strains after effe< is fidelity itself in expressing English life ; is never guilty of cd cature We remember the many hours that have pa§| smoothly by, as, with feet on the fender, we have followed heroi after heroine of his from the dawn of her love to its happy disastrous close, and one is astounded at one's own ingratitudj writing a word against a succession of tales that ' give delight* hurt not/ ^^—Fortnightly Review. > (22) ;|f ^J i i- i»< r- i r^ J % | dl^^-^i» I C^^,J < u i T*j u_-a| > f* _ » .«Htj i.._ >)i dft) i ^ > | F i *i i_i > 1 LECT LIBRARY EDITION |, i NE AUSTEN'S NOVELS., ice IS. Picture BoardSy or 2s, 6d. in Roxhurghe. iSE KM SEISIBILITT. ISITASIOir, ASD NORTHANGEU ABBEY. ,¥seield park. lDe aid prejudice. IffA. '^ c^ ■ Miss Austen's novels/ says Southey, ^ are more to nature, and have for my sympathies passages er feeling than any others of this age/ Sir Walter and Archbishop Whately, in the earlier numbers e (Quarterly Review, called the attention of the : to their surpassing excellence." — Quarterly w, Jan., 1870. Ihakespeare has neither equal nor second. But y the writers who have approached nearest to the ^r of the great master, we have no hesitation in g Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is proud." — Lord Macaulay. i London: CHAPMAN & HALL ^Y^L BOOKSELLERS, AND AT BOOKSTALLS. I ^ • u'*j ^^wr^ ^ » M^ ■ JS ^ ft