CHAPTERCXXXVIII.THE FASHIONABLE GATHERING AT LADY MARVLYNN’S.Aveline Gatliffe, now Lady Batershall, wife of Sir Eric Batershall,Bart., had long since forgotten that such a person as Tom Gatliffe had existence.In her new sphere of action, and the two ties in the shape of a boy and a girl by her husband, the baronet, she had little time to think of her earlier career, which appeared to have been blotted out of her recollection.She loved to be a reigning beauty in the fashionable world, and although time had in some measure robbed her of the freshness of youth, she was still a beautiful and loveable woman, whose society was courted.She had at times misgivings in respect to her son Reginald, who did not give her much of his society.There were reasons for this. In the first place, the young earl did not care a great deal about his father-in-law, who, albeit, a good, honest, bluff, English gentleman, was a little brusque in his manner towards his son-in-law.This was not intentional, but resulted from a habit of plain speaking which he had acquired down in his ancestral home in the west of England.To Aveline he was uniformly kind and considerate. Indeed, with him her word was law. He knew she had been indulged by her grandfather.“Spoilt,” he would sometimes say, “if it were possible to spoil such a gentle, tender-hearted creature. But there,” the baronet would say, “he did his best to spoil her, but she was too much for him, and he couldn’t succeed. Hang me, if I think any man alive could spoil my Aveline. No man breathing, sir,” and when he gave utterance to this speech the baronet would glare around at the persons he was addressing, and looked as if they had done him some sort of an injury; and so it was pretty generally acknowledged that Lady Batershall was a star in the fashionable firmament.She did not lose sight of her old friend and instructress, Lady Marvlynn, whom she regarded in the light of her nearest and dearest associate.The latter had always on hand one or two protégees whom she was preparing to “bring out,” as she termed it. It was not possible for her ladyship to remain long idle, some sort of employment was a necessity to her.She had at this time a young lady under her charge, a Miss Arabella Lovejoyce.She had become greatly attached to this young girl, who was possessed of a more than ordinary amount of beauty, and could also boast of many accomplishments. She was a “blonde,” whom some wicked persons who take a delight in detracting called insipid.She was, however, by no means deficient in sense.Miss Lovejoyce had been for some months on the Continent, in charge of a severe vinegar-visaged old maiden aunt, and upon her return to this country Lady Marvlynn gave a grand party in honour of her arrival.Of course a number of notabilities were invited.The army and navy were both represented on this occasion, likewise the Church. People of almost every denomination were included in the list of invitations, and amongst them were the Lady Aveline and her husband.The preparations were on a grand scale.Lady Marvlynn resided at Upper Charlton. The locality was not altogether so fashionable a quarter as she could have wished, but her house, which stood in its own grounds, was most elegantly furnished. It was a model bijou residence, and contained a suite of reception rooms sufficiently commodious to admit of a tolerably extensive gathering. Besides all this, her ladyship was the very best of hostesses, and strove on these occasions, as indeed she did at all times, to make those around her as much at home and as happy as possible.Lady Marvlynn was not only appreciated by hosts of persons, but was generally esteemed by all who came within her influence.It is true she was not what one might say positively rich, and hence it was perhaps that these gatherings were few and far between, but when she did give a party it was done in a proper manner, and it was the fault of those present if they did not enjoy themselves.When Aveline and her husband presented themselves they found the house full of people.Many of those present were known to the baronet and his wife, but there were some who were strangers to them.Introductions as usual took place—the requisite bowing and courtesies followed.On the lawn were one or two croquet parties, and seated around were groups of persons, who did not play themselves, but elected to be passive spectators.These had before them iced drinks of every possible description. Aveline took a stroll in the grounds with her friend Lady Marvlynn, who was as lively and loquacious as usual. An opportunity was thus afforded of taking stock of the guests.“There are many here to day,” said Aveline, “who are to me strangers.”“Oh, yes, of course, my dear. That is but natural, you know, but I am sure you’ll like them; at least, I hope so. You see that elderly gentleman sitting next to the lady in pink?”“Yes. I don’t know him—do I?”“I think not. He is a most wonderful man, has been in every part of the world.”“He’s in the army I should imagine.”“Yes.”“And his name?”“Is Major Smithers Smythe. Got no end of medals. Was wounded at Agra in the Sepoy rebellion. Oh, he has a whole fund of anecdote, and tells such amusing stories. I’ll trot him out, dear, before the day is over. You’ll be quite charmed with him.”“Oh, I dare say, and the other gentleman further on—”“In a black coat and a white tie?”“Yes.”“That’s theRev.Mr. Downbent. He’s taken three degrees at Oxford, and is a most eloquent preacher. Oh, you’ll like him, I am sure. The slender gentleman on the other side of the grass plot is Sir William Leathbridge, he is conversing with Lord Chetwynd—a very old family the Chetwynds—came in with the Conqueror. His lordship is a quiet, thoughtful man, who, as a rule, does not say much, but he thinks a good deal more, and,entrez nous, he is reputed to be a little gay. Keeps an opera dancer so I’ve been told, a beautiful Spanish woman, I believe; but one never knows what to believe nowadays—it may be all scandal. All I know is, that he is very charming, and as to a ‘gentleman’s private amours, that’s no business of yours, my dear,’ as poor dear Sir Eric used to say when such topics were broached.”“Who is the one playing now?” inquired Aveline, glancing towards the party in question.“That’s Captain Crasher. Oh, he’s another of the right sort; will sit and tell you stories till the small hours of the morning—that is, if you are disposed to listen to him.”“And the gentleman with the long hair and dark moustache?”“What—the one talking to Arabella?”“Yes.”“Oh, dear me—don’t you know him? That’s Signor Marowski, the celebrated basso profondo. You’ll have an opportunity of judging of his ability, for he is set down in the programme for two of his favourite scenas.”“Ah—you are going to have some music, then?”“Dear me—yes. A little bit of a concert, you know. And about an hour, or perhaps more, I think you’ll find we’ve got several crack singers and instrumentalists. We are all lovers of music.”At this point of the conversation a lady met the two speakers in the side walk.She was dressed in the height of fashion, and evidently strove to assume a juvenile appearance; but she was not young—neither was she stout; scraggy would, perhaps, be the better term.”“Oh, glad to have met you,” said Lady Marvlynn, “as it affords me an opportunity of introducing you to my friend, Miss Fagg—Lady Aveline Batershall.”“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before,” said the faded spinster, for such she was, “but have often heard your name mentioned by my friend, Lady Marvlynn.”“Oh, I dare say,” returned Aveline; “her ladyship is one of my oldest friends.”“Yes, so I have been given to understand. Most delighted to make your acquaintance.”Lady Aveline bowed somewhat stiffly.“I am much pleased,” said she.The conversation was continued, but there was no further discourse as to the persons present, and Aveline would have been greatly relieved by Miss Fagg taking herself off.This, however, she did not seem disposed to do, for she continued to walk by the side of Lady Aveline, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was not wanted.“I wish, dear,” said Lady Marvlynn to Miss Fagg, “you would give a glance at the dining-room, and see if my people are making any preparations for the banquet.”“Oh, if you wish it, certainly,” returned the spinster, stepping off like a lapwing.“Ah, we’ve got rid of her,” cried Lady Marvlynn, with a merry laugh. “I thought you were beginning to get a little fidgetty. You know, dear, I was constrained to invite her. She is one of your dear Sir Eric’s distant relatives, and it is not often she gets the chance of a treat like this, for, although I say it myself, I know it is a great treat to her, and the chances are that she’ll talk about it for the next three months when she returns to her friends in the village which has the honour of counting her among its inhabitants.”“She’s a good sort of person, I should say, “observed Aveline, apologetically.“Ah, dear me, yes, very good, unsophisticated, and all that sort of thing, but she is perhaps a little out of place here.”“Ah, yonder is Lord Fitzbogleton,” cried Lady Marvlynn.“Where? I don’t see him.”“Look, through the shrubbery. He is talking to Arabella. How he does follow that girl about to be sure! He is spoony on her—poor man.”“And does she like him?”“Bah! who can tell? Perhaps she doesn’t know herself. She endures him, that is quite certain. But let us return into the house; they don’t want our company, I fancy. In cases of this sort It is my maxim ‘to let the young people alone;’” and here the widow indulged in another merry laugh.They went into the house, where they were joined by a throng of persons. In less than half an hour after this dinner was served.TheRev.Mr. Downbent said grace in an impressive manner, and all present proceeded to partake of the various dishes placed before them.The conversation soon after this became lively and animated. A few stale jokes were uttered, which elicited as much laughter—perhaps more—than new ones. Healths were drunk, but, as it was a private affair, no speechmaking was attempted.It was, in fact, a social party, and not a public banquet, and oratorical flourishes would therefore be out of place.The meal occupied a considerable time—much more than was necessary; but this may be said of all such entertainments. A dessert of a most costly and elaborate description was laid in an adjoining apartment, and to this the greater portion of the guests repaired.“Now, gentlemen,” said Lady Marvlynn, “I must beg of you to do just as you like. Those who wish to smoke are requested to do so, because I believe most of the ladies present will not offer any objection to the aroma of the fragrant weed. I like to see gentlemen smoke—it looks sociable; but I am not everybody, you will perhaps say. Well, that is true enough—so we will effect a compromise, if you please. A room is prepared for the reception of those ladies who object to smoke.”“My dear Lady Marvlynn,” cried one of the gentlemen, “this is really too bad. In the first place, we do not care to dispense with the company of the ladies; and in the next, we are, I hope, not such slaves to habit as to persist in smoking in the company of ladies.”“I shall not be satisfied if you do not enjoy yourselves in your own way.”“This is not a barrack-room,” said Smythe, deprecatingly.“Now, major, although I have every respect for your opinion,” said Lady Marvlynn, banteringly, “you are not in command here.”“And if I were, I should give way to your ladyship,” returned the major.“The best thing you can do is to keep the party alive by telling us one or two of your adventures,” said Lady Marvlynn. “Now don’t be disagreeable, major. Let me have my way this once.”“Don’t I always let you have your way? Ah, dear me, I only wish I was a younger man.”“I should like to be a little younger myself,” returned her ladyship.Cigars were lighted, the wine was passed round, and the whole party were soon in social and animated conversation.“Let me see, major,” observed Colonel Snappe, who was one of the guests; “were you not present at the execution of the ill-fated Maximilian?”“I am glad to say I was not,” returned Smythe. “But I was in Mexico a short time before that untoward event. You know, I suppose, that the scoundrel Juarez, after Maximilian’s death, had the body of his victim embalmed. In the holes made by the executioners’ bullets pieces of red velvet were placed, a pair of glass eyes were inserted in the orbits of the dead man, whose body was decked out with most costly garments, and then it was sent on to his relatives.”“How very horrible!” exclaimed Aveline. “I never heard of anything more sickening.”“Very horrible, I admit,” said the Colonel; “but such was the fact.”“While I was in Mexico,” said Major Smithers Smythe, “facts came to my knowledge which, with your permission, I will relate.”“Oh, by all means, we shall all of us be delighted. Pray proceed, major,” cried several.“The little story I have to tell,” said Smythe, “I call a game for life or death. It is as follows”:—“It was night in the camp of Maxmilian’s army, and sounds of merriment were heard upon all sides, for soldiers are ever wont to indulge in pleasure, regardless of what morrow would bring forth.“In a tent in the inner circle of the camp sat two officers at a rude table, upon which was marked with lead pencil a chess, or checquer board, while black and white buttons served for the ‘men.’“Around the tent were stationed guards, and both of the officers were unarmed, while not a weapon of any description was visible in their canvas room.“They were prisoners: soldiers in the service of Juarez, captured the day before; but their appearance indicated that they were not Mexicans.“Both men were of tall commanding forms, and of easy, graceful address; but, whereas one had dark blue eyes, and light hair and moustache, the other had eyes that were large and black, with brown hair and moustache.“Both men were exceedingly handsome, and upon their faces bore the impress of noble souls and hearts that knew no fear.“A love of adventure had caused them to leave their homes in the north, after the close of the civil war, in which both had fought bravely, and cast their swords with Juarez, to aid in driving from Mexican soil a German emperor.“Capoul Monteith, the blonde officer, was a young man of wealth and good family, a New Yorker, and a pet in society.“Garnet Weston, the brunette, was a poor man, a young lawyer in New York, of good, though poor parentage. He was possessed of superior intelligence, and was fast winning a name, when he crossed the path of Mabel Monteith, the sister of Capoul, and a beauty and an heiress.“So deeply did Garnet love Mabel that he was miserable when not in her presence, and he believed she cared for him; but his pride was great, and he would not offer a pauper hand to a belle and an heiress, and so struggled hard to win fortune and fa… in his profession.“One day, an evil day for Garnet, a pretended friend told him that Mabel was his promised wife, but that their engagement had not yet been made public.“Like one in a dream Garnet Weston listened, and then in despair determined to seek some more stirring field, where the image of his lost love would not be ever before him.“A month later found him a cavalry captain in the army of Benito Juarez, where, a few weeks later, he was surprised to be joined by Capoul Monteith, who had also offered his services to the Mexican President.“In an engagement, two days before they are presented to the reader in their tent, they had been captured and carried into the lines of Maximilian.“That night in camp they were playing a game of checquers,pour passer le temps, and Capoul who was an expert player, was surprised to see how readily he was beaten by Garnet.“Suddenly a heavy tread resounded without, the sentinel challenged, there was a response, and the next instant three of Maximilian’s officers entered the tent, one of whom was an American, a Republican fighting for Imperial Mexico, against the Republic; another was a flashy-looking Frenchman; the third was a Mexican colonel.“‘Gentleman, I am sorry to disturb you; but news has come to-night that Benito Juarez has executed a captain of our army, and I have orders to select one of you, and march you forth to die in retaliation,’ and the American Imperialist looked sad over the duty he had to perform.“‘You cannot mean that one of us must die for an offence against Maximilian by Juarez?’ said Capoul Monteith, rising.“‘Even so are my orders, sir; but I know not which to select, for my duty is most painful.’“‘Let the gentlemen play a game for the choice—the loser to die,’ suggested the young Frenchman.“‘A good idea, monsieur. Gentlemen, I observe you were playing a game of checquers when we entered—so set to work and play three games—the one who wins two of them to escape, the other to die.’“‘When is this execution to be?’ asked Garnet Weston.“‘Within the hour, sir.’“‘Very well, Capoul, I am ready for the game of life and death.’“Capoul Monteith paced to and fro the tent with quick, nervous strides; he was young, handsome, possessed of vast wealth, and fond of life, and he cared not to be thus shot down like dog; but he was a brave man, and thought of Garnet Weston, whom he had always admired, and half wished to be the loser rather than see his friend die.“‘I am ready,’ he at length said, and the two friends, strangers in a strange land, sat down to play the game of life or death.“Capoul Monteith played with the utmost caution, for, ‘if one must die, I have as good a right to struggle for life as has Garnet,’ he thought.“Garnet Weston played with indifference, a quiet, sad smile upon his face, and around them stood the three officers, and the platoon that were to be the executioners of the losing one.“Ten minutes passed, twenty, and the game was won by Capoul Monteith, whose face flushed crimson, and then paled again.“Garnet Weston’s face never changed an expression, for the same smile rested there.“The second game passed quickly, Garnet making his moves the instant Capoul had raised his hand, and surprising all by his reckless indifference, but cool manner.“Five minutes passed, and the second game was won by Capoul Monteith.“‘My God! Garnet, old fellow, I feel for you from my heart,’ cried the winner, the tears starting to his eyes.“Garnet pressed his friend’s hand, the same smile upon his face as he said, quietly—“‘I was ever a poor unlucky dog, Capoul; but, my friend, when I am dead look in my saddle-roll, hanging there, and the papers you find please deliver to the proper address, and—and—Capoul, say to—to Miss Mabel I left a farewell for her.’“‘Gentlemen, I am ready.’“‘Curses on your Imperial humanity! Will you slay a man as though he were a hound?’ cried Capoul, angrily turning towards the officer, for it cut him to the heart to thus part with his friend.“‘I yield to the fortunes of war, Capoul, and these gentlemen but do their duty.’“‘Come, let it be over,’ replied Garnet, and shaking the hand of his friend warmly he was marched away.“Half distracted with grief, Capoul Monteith paced his tent, his thoughts whirling, and his brain on fire, as he gazed at the stool where a short while before poor Garnet had sat.“An hour passed, and the American officer of the Imperial army stood before him.“‘Well?’ said Capoul, hardly daring to ask the question.“‘He is dead.’“‘God have mercy upon him,’ groaned the sorrowing friend.“‘Yes, Captain Monteith, he is dead, and though I have seen many men die I never saw one face death with such perfectly calm indifference as did your friend.’“‘He gave the order to the platoon to fire, and fell instantly; but, ere he died, he wrote this note to you,’ and the American Imperialist handed a slip of paper to Capoul, and, turning, left the tent.“In Garnet’s bold hand was written—“‘Capoul,—I gave my life away to save you, for I loved Mabel too dearly ever to let her brother die where I could be sacrificed instead. I dare tell you this now, for I stand on the brink of my open grave. Farewell!—Garnet.’“A bitter night of sorrow passed Capoul Monteith in that lonely tent, for well he knew his friend had spoken the truth, and when months after the star of Maximilian’s crown had set in gloom, and he resigned from the army of the successful Juarez, he wended his way homeward with a heavy heart, for he could not forget that Mexican soil covered the noble man who had fallen a sacrifice to save his life.“Three years passed away after the game for life or death, and one pleasant evening, toward the sunset-hour, a horseman was riding slowly along a highway, traversing a fertile valley of a South-western State.“Three years had added more dignity to the face, and perhaps saddened it; but otherwise no change had ever come over Capoul Monteith’s fine features.“Upon his right hand, setting back from the road, was a pretty little farmhouse, surrounded by fertile fields, and the sight promising well for a night’s lodging for man and beast,’ Capoul turned in at the white gateway, and rode up to the front door, and dismounted.“The owner of the mansion descended the steps to greet him, and Capoul Monteith stood face to face with Garnet Weston!“‘My God! has the grave given up its dead?’ cried Capoul, in dismay.“‘No, old fellow; you find me flesh and blood, ready and willing to give you a hearty welcome to this my home, left me by an old bachelor uncle a few months since. But, come in; I will tell you all.’“The surprised and delighted Capoul willingly accepted, and around a well-spread tea-table that evening he heard how Garnet had been carried forth to be most bunglingly executed; but a squadron of Juarez cavalry had appeared and frightened off his executioners, ere the first platoon had retired, and that a watchful ranchero had seized him and borne him to his ranche, where through months of suffering, he recovered, and was able to depart from the house of his good friend.“But it was long ere he could gain strength enough to reach Galveston, Texas, and there he met an old uncle, who had carried him to his comfortable home with him.“The kind old bachelor was one day thrown from his horse, and night and day Garnet had watched by his bedside, until death relieved him of his sufferings, and the young man found that his uncle had left him all his wealth.“‘But, old fellow, why did you not write to let me know, for you know not how I have mourned for you?’ asked Capoul.“‘I did write to my old law partner in New York, and he said you had moved away, none knew whither.’“‘True; poor Mabel failed in health, and I carried her to Europe, but we soon returned; and to effect a change in scene and air I purchased a fine farm, about two days’ journey from here, and there we now live. Mabel is contented, if not happy.”“‘She married——”“‘She married? Fiddlesticks! No, she never had any idea of marrying any man excepting yourself, and you went off to Mexico and nearly broke her heart.”“‘God, I thank Thee,’ cried Garnet, and he buried his face in his hands and wept like a very child.“Three months passed, and the bachelor home of Garnet Weston had a mistress to preside over it—a queenly-looking woman of twenty-two, perhaps, with dreamy, sad eyes, and a face of wondrous beauty.“That woman was once the heiress and belle of New York—Mabel Monteith—who had, after long years, married her first and only love, through that game of life and death, in the gulf-washed land of Mexico.”“Well,” said Colonel Snappe, “it’s a moving narrative, and I expect our friends here, as well as myself, are under the impression that Garnet Weston was done to death. How he managed to escape is the most surprising part of the business.”“Ah, but I am so glad he did escape, poor, dear fellow,” cried Arabella; “but it is a most touching story. I wouldn’t have missed hearing it on any account.”“By Jove, but it’s a splendid narrative—never heard a better,” said Lord Fitzbogleton. “I know a fellow, who knows another fellow, you know, who is a capital hand at telling stories, but he isn’t up to the major—not by an immeasurable distance.”“Ah, that was a most unfortunate piece of business. It was the first serious mistake the late Emperor made,” said the colonel.“It was not so great as going to war with united Prussia,” observed Sir William Leathbridge. “That was his downfall.”“Without doubt, Sir William. Nobody will dispute that for a moment; but he was forced into it; and, after all, much as NapoleonIII.has been maligned, he was not so ambitious or remorseless a man as many people have been led to suppose. On the contrary, he was a much more kindly monarch than I at one time gave him credit for. We in this country look at foreign potentates and foreign politics from our own point of view.”“That is but natural, sir,” observed Mr. Downbent. “It is in the nature and order of things that it should be so.”“And, in addition to all this,” observed Sir William, “I have always maintained that as a nation we are greatly prejudiced, and think we are nearer perfection than any other country.”“Oh, that, I think, there can be no doubt about, Crasher. One thing, however, is quite certain. We appear to be miserably behind hand as far as our detective department goes. Murder is rife in the land, crimes of the greatest possible amount of ferocity are committed, and the perpetrators, for some reason or other, are permitted to escape.”“You have broached a subject, sir,” said Sir William Leathbridge, “which is an all important one—I mean the protection of human life—and I don’t believe that under the existing state of things the Government is competent to deal with this question. Why, it is a scandal to this nation.”“You mean the number of murderers who escape detection.”“I do.”“Well, we shall do no good till a different class of men are employed and the whole system is reformed.”“I’ve got a little bit of a story to tell about a New York detective,” said Sir William. “It happened when I paid a visit to the United States.”Everybody, of course, hoped that Sir William would give the narrative, which he did after the following fashion—the details of which we reserve for the succeeding chapter.
Aveline Gatliffe, now Lady Batershall, wife of Sir Eric Batershall,Bart., had long since forgotten that such a person as Tom Gatliffe had existence.
In her new sphere of action, and the two ties in the shape of a boy and a girl by her husband, the baronet, she had little time to think of her earlier career, which appeared to have been blotted out of her recollection.
She loved to be a reigning beauty in the fashionable world, and although time had in some measure robbed her of the freshness of youth, she was still a beautiful and loveable woman, whose society was courted.
She had at times misgivings in respect to her son Reginald, who did not give her much of his society.
There were reasons for this. In the first place, the young earl did not care a great deal about his father-in-law, who, albeit, a good, honest, bluff, English gentleman, was a little brusque in his manner towards his son-in-law.
This was not intentional, but resulted from a habit of plain speaking which he had acquired down in his ancestral home in the west of England.
To Aveline he was uniformly kind and considerate. Indeed, with him her word was law. He knew she had been indulged by her grandfather.
“Spoilt,” he would sometimes say, “if it were possible to spoil such a gentle, tender-hearted creature. But there,” the baronet would say, “he did his best to spoil her, but she was too much for him, and he couldn’t succeed. Hang me, if I think any man alive could spoil my Aveline. No man breathing, sir,” and when he gave utterance to this speech the baronet would glare around at the persons he was addressing, and looked as if they had done him some sort of an injury; and so it was pretty generally acknowledged that Lady Batershall was a star in the fashionable firmament.
She did not lose sight of her old friend and instructress, Lady Marvlynn, whom she regarded in the light of her nearest and dearest associate.
The latter had always on hand one or two protégees whom she was preparing to “bring out,” as she termed it. It was not possible for her ladyship to remain long idle, some sort of employment was a necessity to her.
She had at this time a young lady under her charge, a Miss Arabella Lovejoyce.
She had become greatly attached to this young girl, who was possessed of a more than ordinary amount of beauty, and could also boast of many accomplishments. She was a “blonde,” whom some wicked persons who take a delight in detracting called insipid.
She was, however, by no means deficient in sense.
Miss Lovejoyce had been for some months on the Continent, in charge of a severe vinegar-visaged old maiden aunt, and upon her return to this country Lady Marvlynn gave a grand party in honour of her arrival.
Of course a number of notabilities were invited.
The army and navy were both represented on this occasion, likewise the Church. People of almost every denomination were included in the list of invitations, and amongst them were the Lady Aveline and her husband.
The preparations were on a grand scale.
Lady Marvlynn resided at Upper Charlton. The locality was not altogether so fashionable a quarter as she could have wished, but her house, which stood in its own grounds, was most elegantly furnished. It was a model bijou residence, and contained a suite of reception rooms sufficiently commodious to admit of a tolerably extensive gathering. Besides all this, her ladyship was the very best of hostesses, and strove on these occasions, as indeed she did at all times, to make those around her as much at home and as happy as possible.
Lady Marvlynn was not only appreciated by hosts of persons, but was generally esteemed by all who came within her influence.
It is true she was not what one might say positively rich, and hence it was perhaps that these gatherings were few and far between, but when she did give a party it was done in a proper manner, and it was the fault of those present if they did not enjoy themselves.
When Aveline and her husband presented themselves they found the house full of people.
Many of those present were known to the baronet and his wife, but there were some who were strangers to them.
Introductions as usual took place—the requisite bowing and courtesies followed.
On the lawn were one or two croquet parties, and seated around were groups of persons, who did not play themselves, but elected to be passive spectators.
These had before them iced drinks of every possible description. Aveline took a stroll in the grounds with her friend Lady Marvlynn, who was as lively and loquacious as usual. An opportunity was thus afforded of taking stock of the guests.
“There are many here to day,” said Aveline, “who are to me strangers.”
“Oh, yes, of course, my dear. That is but natural, you know, but I am sure you’ll like them; at least, I hope so. You see that elderly gentleman sitting next to the lady in pink?”
“Yes. I don’t know him—do I?”
“I think not. He is a most wonderful man, has been in every part of the world.”
“He’s in the army I should imagine.”
“Yes.”
“And his name?”
“Is Major Smithers Smythe. Got no end of medals. Was wounded at Agra in the Sepoy rebellion. Oh, he has a whole fund of anecdote, and tells such amusing stories. I’ll trot him out, dear, before the day is over. You’ll be quite charmed with him.”
“Oh, I dare say, and the other gentleman further on—”
“In a black coat and a white tie?”
“Yes.”
“That’s theRev.Mr. Downbent. He’s taken three degrees at Oxford, and is a most eloquent preacher. Oh, you’ll like him, I am sure. The slender gentleman on the other side of the grass plot is Sir William Leathbridge, he is conversing with Lord Chetwynd—a very old family the Chetwynds—came in with the Conqueror. His lordship is a quiet, thoughtful man, who, as a rule, does not say much, but he thinks a good deal more, and,entrez nous, he is reputed to be a little gay. Keeps an opera dancer so I’ve been told, a beautiful Spanish woman, I believe; but one never knows what to believe nowadays—it may be all scandal. All I know is, that he is very charming, and as to a ‘gentleman’s private amours, that’s no business of yours, my dear,’ as poor dear Sir Eric used to say when such topics were broached.”
“Who is the one playing now?” inquired Aveline, glancing towards the party in question.
“That’s Captain Crasher. Oh, he’s another of the right sort; will sit and tell you stories till the small hours of the morning—that is, if you are disposed to listen to him.”
“And the gentleman with the long hair and dark moustache?”
“What—the one talking to Arabella?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, dear me—don’t you know him? That’s Signor Marowski, the celebrated basso profondo. You’ll have an opportunity of judging of his ability, for he is set down in the programme for two of his favourite scenas.”
“Ah—you are going to have some music, then?”
“Dear me—yes. A little bit of a concert, you know. And about an hour, or perhaps more, I think you’ll find we’ve got several crack singers and instrumentalists. We are all lovers of music.”
At this point of the conversation a lady met the two speakers in the side walk.
She was dressed in the height of fashion, and evidently strove to assume a juvenile appearance; but she was not young—neither was she stout; scraggy would, perhaps, be the better term.”
“Oh, glad to have met you,” said Lady Marvlynn, “as it affords me an opportunity of introducing you to my friend, Miss Fagg—Lady Aveline Batershall.”
“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before,” said the faded spinster, for such she was, “but have often heard your name mentioned by my friend, Lady Marvlynn.”
“Oh, I dare say,” returned Aveline; “her ladyship is one of my oldest friends.”
“Yes, so I have been given to understand. Most delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Lady Aveline bowed somewhat stiffly.
“I am much pleased,” said she.
The conversation was continued, but there was no further discourse as to the persons present, and Aveline would have been greatly relieved by Miss Fagg taking herself off.
This, however, she did not seem disposed to do, for she continued to walk by the side of Lady Aveline, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was not wanted.
“I wish, dear,” said Lady Marvlynn to Miss Fagg, “you would give a glance at the dining-room, and see if my people are making any preparations for the banquet.”
“Oh, if you wish it, certainly,” returned the spinster, stepping off like a lapwing.
“Ah, we’ve got rid of her,” cried Lady Marvlynn, with a merry laugh. “I thought you were beginning to get a little fidgetty. You know, dear, I was constrained to invite her. She is one of your dear Sir Eric’s distant relatives, and it is not often she gets the chance of a treat like this, for, although I say it myself, I know it is a great treat to her, and the chances are that she’ll talk about it for the next three months when she returns to her friends in the village which has the honour of counting her among its inhabitants.”
“She’s a good sort of person, I should say, “observed Aveline, apologetically.
“Ah, dear me, yes, very good, unsophisticated, and all that sort of thing, but she is perhaps a little out of place here.”
“Ah, yonder is Lord Fitzbogleton,” cried Lady Marvlynn.
“Where? I don’t see him.”
“Look, through the shrubbery. He is talking to Arabella. How he does follow that girl about to be sure! He is spoony on her—poor man.”
“And does she like him?”
“Bah! who can tell? Perhaps she doesn’t know herself. She endures him, that is quite certain. But let us return into the house; they don’t want our company, I fancy. In cases of this sort It is my maxim ‘to let the young people alone;’” and here the widow indulged in another merry laugh.
They went into the house, where they were joined by a throng of persons. In less than half an hour after this dinner was served.
TheRev.Mr. Downbent said grace in an impressive manner, and all present proceeded to partake of the various dishes placed before them.
The conversation soon after this became lively and animated. A few stale jokes were uttered, which elicited as much laughter—perhaps more—than new ones. Healths were drunk, but, as it was a private affair, no speechmaking was attempted.
It was, in fact, a social party, and not a public banquet, and oratorical flourishes would therefore be out of place.
The meal occupied a considerable time—much more than was necessary; but this may be said of all such entertainments. A dessert of a most costly and elaborate description was laid in an adjoining apartment, and to this the greater portion of the guests repaired.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Lady Marvlynn, “I must beg of you to do just as you like. Those who wish to smoke are requested to do so, because I believe most of the ladies present will not offer any objection to the aroma of the fragrant weed. I like to see gentlemen smoke—it looks sociable; but I am not everybody, you will perhaps say. Well, that is true enough—so we will effect a compromise, if you please. A room is prepared for the reception of those ladies who object to smoke.”
“My dear Lady Marvlynn,” cried one of the gentlemen, “this is really too bad. In the first place, we do not care to dispense with the company of the ladies; and in the next, we are, I hope, not such slaves to habit as to persist in smoking in the company of ladies.”
“I shall not be satisfied if you do not enjoy yourselves in your own way.”
“This is not a barrack-room,” said Smythe, deprecatingly.
“Now, major, although I have every respect for your opinion,” said Lady Marvlynn, banteringly, “you are not in command here.”
“And if I were, I should give way to your ladyship,” returned the major.
“The best thing you can do is to keep the party alive by telling us one or two of your adventures,” said Lady Marvlynn. “Now don’t be disagreeable, major. Let me have my way this once.”
“Don’t I always let you have your way? Ah, dear me, I only wish I was a younger man.”
“I should like to be a little younger myself,” returned her ladyship.
Cigars were lighted, the wine was passed round, and the whole party were soon in social and animated conversation.
“Let me see, major,” observed Colonel Snappe, who was one of the guests; “were you not present at the execution of the ill-fated Maximilian?”
“I am glad to say I was not,” returned Smythe. “But I was in Mexico a short time before that untoward event. You know, I suppose, that the scoundrel Juarez, after Maximilian’s death, had the body of his victim embalmed. In the holes made by the executioners’ bullets pieces of red velvet were placed, a pair of glass eyes were inserted in the orbits of the dead man, whose body was decked out with most costly garments, and then it was sent on to his relatives.”
“How very horrible!” exclaimed Aveline. “I never heard of anything more sickening.”
“Very horrible, I admit,” said the Colonel; “but such was the fact.”
“While I was in Mexico,” said Major Smithers Smythe, “facts came to my knowledge which, with your permission, I will relate.”
“Oh, by all means, we shall all of us be delighted. Pray proceed, major,” cried several.
“The little story I have to tell,” said Smythe, “I call a game for life or death. It is as follows”:—
“It was night in the camp of Maxmilian’s army, and sounds of merriment were heard upon all sides, for soldiers are ever wont to indulge in pleasure, regardless of what morrow would bring forth.
“In a tent in the inner circle of the camp sat two officers at a rude table, upon which was marked with lead pencil a chess, or checquer board, while black and white buttons served for the ‘men.’
“Around the tent were stationed guards, and both of the officers were unarmed, while not a weapon of any description was visible in their canvas room.
“They were prisoners: soldiers in the service of Juarez, captured the day before; but their appearance indicated that they were not Mexicans.
“Both men were of tall commanding forms, and of easy, graceful address; but, whereas one had dark blue eyes, and light hair and moustache, the other had eyes that were large and black, with brown hair and moustache.
“Both men were exceedingly handsome, and upon their faces bore the impress of noble souls and hearts that knew no fear.
“A love of adventure had caused them to leave their homes in the north, after the close of the civil war, in which both had fought bravely, and cast their swords with Juarez, to aid in driving from Mexican soil a German emperor.
“Capoul Monteith, the blonde officer, was a young man of wealth and good family, a New Yorker, and a pet in society.
“Garnet Weston, the brunette, was a poor man, a young lawyer in New York, of good, though poor parentage. He was possessed of superior intelligence, and was fast winning a name, when he crossed the path of Mabel Monteith, the sister of Capoul, and a beauty and an heiress.
“So deeply did Garnet love Mabel that he was miserable when not in her presence, and he believed she cared for him; but his pride was great, and he would not offer a pauper hand to a belle and an heiress, and so struggled hard to win fortune and fa… in his profession.
“One day, an evil day for Garnet, a pretended friend told him that Mabel was his promised wife, but that their engagement had not yet been made public.
“Like one in a dream Garnet Weston listened, and then in despair determined to seek some more stirring field, where the image of his lost love would not be ever before him.
“A month later found him a cavalry captain in the army of Benito Juarez, where, a few weeks later, he was surprised to be joined by Capoul Monteith, who had also offered his services to the Mexican President.
“In an engagement, two days before they are presented to the reader in their tent, they had been captured and carried into the lines of Maximilian.
“That night in camp they were playing a game of checquers,pour passer le temps, and Capoul who was an expert player, was surprised to see how readily he was beaten by Garnet.
“Suddenly a heavy tread resounded without, the sentinel challenged, there was a response, and the next instant three of Maximilian’s officers entered the tent, one of whom was an American, a Republican fighting for Imperial Mexico, against the Republic; another was a flashy-looking Frenchman; the third was a Mexican colonel.
“‘Gentleman, I am sorry to disturb you; but news has come to-night that Benito Juarez has executed a captain of our army, and I have orders to select one of you, and march you forth to die in retaliation,’ and the American Imperialist looked sad over the duty he had to perform.
“‘You cannot mean that one of us must die for an offence against Maximilian by Juarez?’ said Capoul Monteith, rising.
“‘Even so are my orders, sir; but I know not which to select, for my duty is most painful.’
“‘Let the gentlemen play a game for the choice—the loser to die,’ suggested the young Frenchman.
“‘A good idea, monsieur. Gentlemen, I observe you were playing a game of checquers when we entered—so set to work and play three games—the one who wins two of them to escape, the other to die.’
“‘When is this execution to be?’ asked Garnet Weston.
“‘Within the hour, sir.’
“‘Very well, Capoul, I am ready for the game of life and death.’
“Capoul Monteith paced to and fro the tent with quick, nervous strides; he was young, handsome, possessed of vast wealth, and fond of life, and he cared not to be thus shot down like dog; but he was a brave man, and thought of Garnet Weston, whom he had always admired, and half wished to be the loser rather than see his friend die.
“‘I am ready,’ he at length said, and the two friends, strangers in a strange land, sat down to play the game of life or death.
“Capoul Monteith played with the utmost caution, for, ‘if one must die, I have as good a right to struggle for life as has Garnet,’ he thought.
“Garnet Weston played with indifference, a quiet, sad smile upon his face, and around them stood the three officers, and the platoon that were to be the executioners of the losing one.
“Ten minutes passed, twenty, and the game was won by Capoul Monteith, whose face flushed crimson, and then paled again.
“Garnet Weston’s face never changed an expression, for the same smile rested there.
“The second game passed quickly, Garnet making his moves the instant Capoul had raised his hand, and surprising all by his reckless indifference, but cool manner.
“Five minutes passed, and the second game was won by Capoul Monteith.
“‘My God! Garnet, old fellow, I feel for you from my heart,’ cried the winner, the tears starting to his eyes.
“Garnet pressed his friend’s hand, the same smile upon his face as he said, quietly—
“‘I was ever a poor unlucky dog, Capoul; but, my friend, when I am dead look in my saddle-roll, hanging there, and the papers you find please deliver to the proper address, and—and—Capoul, say to—to Miss Mabel I left a farewell for her.’
“‘Gentlemen, I am ready.’
“‘Curses on your Imperial humanity! Will you slay a man as though he were a hound?’ cried Capoul, angrily turning towards the officer, for it cut him to the heart to thus part with his friend.
“‘I yield to the fortunes of war, Capoul, and these gentlemen but do their duty.’
“‘Come, let it be over,’ replied Garnet, and shaking the hand of his friend warmly he was marched away.
“Half distracted with grief, Capoul Monteith paced his tent, his thoughts whirling, and his brain on fire, as he gazed at the stool where a short while before poor Garnet had sat.
“An hour passed, and the American officer of the Imperial army stood before him.
“‘Well?’ said Capoul, hardly daring to ask the question.
“‘He is dead.’
“‘God have mercy upon him,’ groaned the sorrowing friend.
“‘Yes, Captain Monteith, he is dead, and though I have seen many men die I never saw one face death with such perfectly calm indifference as did your friend.’
“‘He gave the order to the platoon to fire, and fell instantly; but, ere he died, he wrote this note to you,’ and the American Imperialist handed a slip of paper to Capoul, and, turning, left the tent.
“In Garnet’s bold hand was written—
“‘Capoul,—I gave my life away to save you, for I loved Mabel too dearly ever to let her brother die where I could be sacrificed instead. I dare tell you this now, for I stand on the brink of my open grave. Farewell!—Garnet.’
“A bitter night of sorrow passed Capoul Monteith in that lonely tent, for well he knew his friend had spoken the truth, and when months after the star of Maximilian’s crown had set in gloom, and he resigned from the army of the successful Juarez, he wended his way homeward with a heavy heart, for he could not forget that Mexican soil covered the noble man who had fallen a sacrifice to save his life.
“Three years passed away after the game for life or death, and one pleasant evening, toward the sunset-hour, a horseman was riding slowly along a highway, traversing a fertile valley of a South-western State.
“Three years had added more dignity to the face, and perhaps saddened it; but otherwise no change had ever come over Capoul Monteith’s fine features.
“Upon his right hand, setting back from the road, was a pretty little farmhouse, surrounded by fertile fields, and the sight promising well for a night’s lodging for man and beast,’ Capoul turned in at the white gateway, and rode up to the front door, and dismounted.
“The owner of the mansion descended the steps to greet him, and Capoul Monteith stood face to face with Garnet Weston!
“‘My God! has the grave given up its dead?’ cried Capoul, in dismay.
“‘No, old fellow; you find me flesh and blood, ready and willing to give you a hearty welcome to this my home, left me by an old bachelor uncle a few months since. But, come in; I will tell you all.’
“The surprised and delighted Capoul willingly accepted, and around a well-spread tea-table that evening he heard how Garnet had been carried forth to be most bunglingly executed; but a squadron of Juarez cavalry had appeared and frightened off his executioners, ere the first platoon had retired, and that a watchful ranchero had seized him and borne him to his ranche, where through months of suffering, he recovered, and was able to depart from the house of his good friend.
“But it was long ere he could gain strength enough to reach Galveston, Texas, and there he met an old uncle, who had carried him to his comfortable home with him.
“The kind old bachelor was one day thrown from his horse, and night and day Garnet had watched by his bedside, until death relieved him of his sufferings, and the young man found that his uncle had left him all his wealth.
“‘But, old fellow, why did you not write to let me know, for you know not how I have mourned for you?’ asked Capoul.
“‘I did write to my old law partner in New York, and he said you had moved away, none knew whither.’
“‘True; poor Mabel failed in health, and I carried her to Europe, but we soon returned; and to effect a change in scene and air I purchased a fine farm, about two days’ journey from here, and there we now live. Mabel is contented, if not happy.”
“‘She married——”
“‘She married? Fiddlesticks! No, she never had any idea of marrying any man excepting yourself, and you went off to Mexico and nearly broke her heart.”
“‘God, I thank Thee,’ cried Garnet, and he buried his face in his hands and wept like a very child.
“Three months passed, and the bachelor home of Garnet Weston had a mistress to preside over it—a queenly-looking woman of twenty-two, perhaps, with dreamy, sad eyes, and a face of wondrous beauty.
“That woman was once the heiress and belle of New York—Mabel Monteith—who had, after long years, married her first and only love, through that game of life and death, in the gulf-washed land of Mexico.”
“Well,” said Colonel Snappe, “it’s a moving narrative, and I expect our friends here, as well as myself, are under the impression that Garnet Weston was done to death. How he managed to escape is the most surprising part of the business.”
“Ah, but I am so glad he did escape, poor, dear fellow,” cried Arabella; “but it is a most touching story. I wouldn’t have missed hearing it on any account.”
“By Jove, but it’s a splendid narrative—never heard a better,” said Lord Fitzbogleton. “I know a fellow, who knows another fellow, you know, who is a capital hand at telling stories, but he isn’t up to the major—not by an immeasurable distance.”
“Ah, that was a most unfortunate piece of business. It was the first serious mistake the late Emperor made,” said the colonel.
“It was not so great as going to war with united Prussia,” observed Sir William Leathbridge. “That was his downfall.”
“Without doubt, Sir William. Nobody will dispute that for a moment; but he was forced into it; and, after all, much as NapoleonIII.has been maligned, he was not so ambitious or remorseless a man as many people have been led to suppose. On the contrary, he was a much more kindly monarch than I at one time gave him credit for. We in this country look at foreign potentates and foreign politics from our own point of view.”
“That is but natural, sir,” observed Mr. Downbent. “It is in the nature and order of things that it should be so.”
“And, in addition to all this,” observed Sir William, “I have always maintained that as a nation we are greatly prejudiced, and think we are nearer perfection than any other country.”
“Oh, that, I think, there can be no doubt about, Crasher. One thing, however, is quite certain. We appear to be miserably behind hand as far as our detective department goes. Murder is rife in the land, crimes of the greatest possible amount of ferocity are committed, and the perpetrators, for some reason or other, are permitted to escape.”
“You have broached a subject, sir,” said Sir William Leathbridge, “which is an all important one—I mean the protection of human life—and I don’t believe that under the existing state of things the Government is competent to deal with this question. Why, it is a scandal to this nation.”
“You mean the number of murderers who escape detection.”
“I do.”
“Well, we shall do no good till a different class of men are employed and the whole system is reformed.”
“I’ve got a little bit of a story to tell about a New York detective,” said Sir William. “It happened when I paid a visit to the United States.”
Everybody, of course, hoped that Sir William would give the narrative, which he did after the following fashion—the details of which we reserve for the succeeding chapter.