Flityville,March 20.
Flityville,March 20.
As the event which I am about to recount forms the turning-point of my life—unless, indeed, something still more remarkable happens, which I do not at present foresee, to turn me back again—I do not feel that it would be either becoming, or indeed possible, for me to maintain that vein of easy cheerfulness which has characterised my composition hitherto. What is fun to you, O my reader! may be death to me; and nothing can be further from my intention than to excite the smallest tendency to risibility on your part at my misfortunes or trials. You will already have guessed what these are; but how to recur to those agonising details, how to present to you the picture of my misery in its true colours,—nothing but the stern determination to carry out my original design, and the conscientious conviction that "the story of my life from month to month" may be made a profitable study to my fellow-men, could induce me in this cold-blooded way to tear open the still unhealed wound.
I came down to breakfast rather late on the morning following the events narrated in the last chapter. Broadhem and Grandon had already vanished from the scene; so had Mr Wog, who went up to town to see what he called "the elephant,"—an American expression, signifying "to gain experience of the world." The phrase originated in an occurrence at a menagerie, and as upon this occasion Mr Wog applied it to the opening of Parliament, it was not altogether inappropriate. I found still lingering over thedebrisof breakfast my host and hostess, Lady Broadhem and her daughters, the Bishop and Chundango. The latter appeared to be having all the talk to himself, and, to give him his due, his conversation was generally entertaining.
"My dear mother," he was saying, "still unconverted, has buried all my jewellery in the back verandah. After I had cleared a million sterling, I divided it into two parts; with one part I bought jewels, of which my mother is an excellent judge, and the other I put out at interest. Not forgetting," with an upward glance, "a sum the interest of which I do not look for here."
"Then, did you give all your jewels to your mother?" asked Lady Broadhem.
"Oh no; she is only keeping them till I can bestow them upon the woman I choose for her daughter-in-law."
"Are you looking out for her now?" I asked, somewhat abruptly.
"Yes, my dear friend," said John; "I hope to find in England some Christian young person as a yoke-mate."
There was a self-satisfied roll of his eye as he said this, which took away from me all further desire for the bacon and eggs I had just put on my plate.
"Dear Mr Chundango," said Lady Broadhem, "tell us some of your adventures as a catechist in the Bombay Ghauts. Did you give up all when you became one? Was your family noble? and did you undergo much persecution from them?"
"The Rajah of Sattara is my first cousin," said Chundango, unblushingly; "but they repudiated me when I became a Christian, and deny the relationship."
"Are you going up to Convocation?" said Dickiefield to the Bishop, to divert attention from Chundango's last barefaced assertion. "I hear they are going to take some further action about the judgment on the 'Essays and Reviews.'"
"Yes," said Joseph; "and I see there is a chance of three new sees being created. I should like to talk over the matter with you. Considering how seriously my health has suffered in the tropics, and how religiously I have adhered to my Liberal opinions in politics even in the most trying climates, it might be worth while——"
"Excuse me for interrupting you, my dear lord," said Dickiefield, "but the present Government are not so particular about the political as the theological views of their bishops. When you remember that the Prime Minister of this country is held morally accountable for the orthodoxy of its religious tenets, you must at once perceive how essential it is, not only that he should be profoundly versed in points of Scriptural doctrine himself, but that he should never appoint a bishop of whose soundness he is not from personal knowledge thoroughly satisfied."
"I have no objection to talk over the more disputed points with him," said the Bishop. "When do you think he could spare a moment?"
"The best plan would be," replied Dickiefield, with a twinkle in his eye, "to catch him in the lobby of the House some evening when there is nothing particular going on. What books of reference would you require?"
The Bishop named one, when I interrupted him, for I felt Dickiefield had not put the case fairly as regarded the first Minister of the Crown.
"It is not the Premier's fault at all," said I; "he may be the most liberal theologian possible, but he has nothing to do with doctrine; that lies in the Chancellor's department. As the supreme arbiter in points of religious belief, and as the largest dispenser of spiritual patronage in the kingdom, it is evident that the qualifications for a Lord Chancellor should be not so much his knowledge of law, as his unblemished moral character and incapacity for perpetrating jobs. He is, in fact, the principal veterinary surgeon of the ecclesiastical stable, and any man in orders that he 'warrants sound' cannot be objected to on the score of orthodoxy. The Prime Minister is just in the same position as the head of any other department,—whoever passes the competitive examination he is bound to accept, but may use his own discretion as to promotion, and, of course, sticks to the traditions of the service. The fact is, if you go into the Colonial Episcopal line you get over the heads of a lot of men who are steadily plodding on for home promotion, and, of course they don't think it fair for an outsider to come back again, and cut them out of a palace and the patronage attached to it on the strength of having been a missionary bishop. It is just the same in the Foreign Office,—if you go out of Europe you get out of the regular line. However, we shall have the judgment on the Colenso case before long, and, from the little I know of the question, it is possible you may find that you are not legally a bishop at all. In that case you will have what is far better than any interest—a grievance. You can say that you were tempted to give up a good living to go to the heathen on false pretences, and they'll have to make it up to you. You could not do better than apply for one of the appointments attached to some cathedrals, called 'Peculiars.' I believe that they are very comfortable and independent. If you will allow me I will write to my solicitor about one. Lawyers are the men to manage these matters, as they are all in with each other, and every bishop has one attached to him."
"Thank you, my lord—my observation was addressed to Lord Dickiefield," said the Bishop, very stiffly; for there was an absence of that deference in my tone to which those who love the uppermost seats in the synagogues are accustomed, but which I reserve for some poor labourers who will never be heard of in this world.
"Talking of committees," I went on, "how confused the Lord Chancellor must be between them all. He must be very apt to forget when he is 'sitting' and when he is being 'sat upon.' If he had not the clearest possible head, he would be proving to the world that Mr E—— was competent to teach the Zulus theology in spite of the Bishop of Cape Town, and that he was justified in giving Dr Colenso a large retiring pension. What with having to quote texts in one committee-room, and arithmetic in another, and having to explain the law of God, the law of the land, and his own conduct alternately, it is a miracle that he does not get a softening of the brain. Depend upon it," said I, turning to the Bishop, who looked flushed and angry, "that a 'Peculiar' is a much snugger place than the Woolsack."
"Lord Frank, permit me to say," broke in Lady Broadhem, who had several times vainly endeavoured to interrupt me, "that your manner of treating sacred subjects is most disrespectful and irreverent, and that your allusions to an ecclesiastical stable, 'outsiders,' and other racing slang, is in the worst possible taste, considering the presence of the Bishop."
"Lady Broadhem," said I, sternly, "when the money-changers were scourged out of the Temple there was no want of reverence displayed towards the service to which it was dedicated; and it seems to me, that to sell 'the Temple' itself, whether under the name of an 'advowson,' a 'living,' or a 'cure of souls,' is the very climax of irreverence, not to use a stronger term; and when the Lord Chancellor brings in an Act for the purpose of facilitating this traffic in 'souls,' and 'augmenting the benefices' derived from curing them, I think it is high time, at the risk of giving offence to my friend the Bishop, and to the ecclesiastical establishment generally, to speak out. What times have we fallen upon that the priesthood itself, once an inspiration, has become a trade?"[1]
Lady Broadhem seemed a little cowed by my vehemence, which some might have thought amounted to rudeness, but would not abandon the field. "The result," she said, "of impoverishing the Church will be, that you will only get literates to go into it; as it is, compared with other professions, it holds out no inducement for young men of family. Fortunately our own living, being worth £1200 a-year, always secures us a member of the family, and therefore a gentleman; but if you did away with them you would not have holier men, but simply worse-bred ones. I am sure we should not gain by having the Church filled with clergy of the class of Dissenting preachers."
"I don't think you would, any more than the Pharisees would have gained by being reduced to the level of the Sadducees; not that I would wish to use either term offensively towards the conscientious individuals who were, doubtless, comprised in the above sects in old time, still less as a reproach to the excellent men who fill the churches and chapels of this country now; but it has possibly not occurred to them that the Churchianity of the present day bears as little resemblance to the Christianity of eighteen hundred years ago, as the latter did to the worship it came to supersede;" and I felt I had sown seed in the ecclesiastical vineyard, and would leave it to fructify. "Good fellow, Frank!" I overheard Dickiefield say, as I left the room; "it is a pity his head is a little turned!" "Ah," I thought, "something is upside down; perhaps it is my head, but I rather think it is the world generally, including always the religious world. It seemed to have taken a start in the right direction nearly two thousand years ago, and now it has all slipped back again worse than ever, and is whirling the wrong way with a rapidity that makes one giddy. I feel more giddy than usual to-day, somehow," I soliloquised; "and every time I look at Lady Ursula, I feel exactly as if I had smoked too much. It can't be really that, so I'll light a cigar and steady my nerves before I come to the tremendous issue. She is too sensible to mind my smelling of tobacco." These were the thoughts that passed through my somewhat bewildered brain, as I stepped out upon the terrace and lit my cigar. So far from my nerves becoming steadier, however, under the usually soothing influence, I felt my heart beating more rapidly each time I endeavoured to frame the sentence upon which was to depend the happiness of my life, until at last my resolution gave way altogether, and I determined to put upon paper, in the form of an interrogatory, the momentous question. A glass door opened from a recess in the drawing-room upon the terrace on which I was walking, and in it, on my former visits, I had been in the daily habit of writing my letters. It was a snug retreat, with a fire all to itself, a charming view, and aportièrewhich separated it or not from the drawing-room, according to the wish of the occupant. The first question I had to consider when I put the writing materials before me was, whether I ought to begin, "Dear Lady Ursula," or, "My dear Lady Ursula." I should not have entertained the idea of beginning "My dear," did I not feel that having known her as a child entitled me to assume a certain intimacy. However, on further consideration, I adopted the more distant form, and then my real difficulty began. While looking for an inspiration at the further end of the avenue which stretched from the lawn, I became conscious of a figure moving slowly towards me, which I finally perceived to be that of Lady Broadhem herself. In my then frame of mind, any escape from my dilemma was a relief, and I instinctively left the still unwritten note and joined her.
"This is a courageous proceeding, Lady Broadhem; the weather is scarcely mild enough for strolling."
"I determined to make sure of some exercise," she replied,—"the clouds look threatening; besides, I have a good deal on my mind, and I can always think better when I am walkingalone."
She put a marked emphasis on the last word, I can't imagine why, so I said, "That is just my case. If you only knew the torture I am enduring, you would not wonder at my wanting to be alone. As for exercise, it would not be of the slightest use."
"Dear me," said Lady Broadhem, pulling a little box like a card-case out of her pocket, "tell me your exact symptoms, and I'll give you some globules."
"It is not altogether beyond the power of homœopathy," I said, with a sigh. "Hahnemann was quite right when he adopted as the motto for his system, 'Like cures like,' It applies to my complaint exactly. Love will cure love, but not in homœopathic doses."
"How very odd! I was thinking the very same thing when you joined me. My dear girls are of course ever uppermost in my mind, and I really am troubled about Ursula. I think," she said, looking with a sidelong glance into my face, "I know who is on the point of declaring himself," and she stopped suddenly, as though she had spoken under some irresistible impulse.
I don't remember having blushed since I first went to school, but if Lady Broadhem could have seen the colour of my skin under my thick beard, she would have perceived how just her penetration had been. Still I was a good deal puzzled at the quickness with which she had made a discovery I imagined unknown, even to the object of my affections, to say nothing of the coarseness of her alluding to it to me in that direct manner. What had I said or done that could have put her on the scent? I pondered in vain over the mystery. My conduct had been most circumspect during the few hours I had been in love; nothing but the sagacity with which the maternal instinct is endowed could account for it.
"Do you think Lady Ursula returns the affection?" said I, timidly.
"Ursula is a dear, well-principled girl, who will make any man who is fortunate enough to win her happy. I am sure she will be guided by my wishes in the matter. And now, Lord Frank, I think we have discussed this subject sufficiently. I have said more, perhaps, than I ought; but we are such old friends that, although I entirely disagree with your religious opinions, it has been a relief to me even to say thus much. I trust my anxieties will soon be at an end;" with which most encouraging speech Lady Broadhem turned towards the house, leaving me overcome with rapture and astonishment, slightly tinged with disgust at finding that the girl I loved was thrown at my head.
I did not delay, when I got back to my recess in the drawing-room, to tear up with a triumphant gesture my note beginning "Dear," and to commence another, "My dear Lady Ursula."
"The conversation which I have just had with Lady Broadhem," I went on, "encourages me to lose no time in writing to you to explain the nature of those feelings which she seems to have detected almost as soon as they were called into existence, and which gather strength with such rapidity that a sentiment akin to self-preservation urges me not to lose another moment in placing myself and my fortune at your disposal. If I allude to the latter, it is not because I think such a consideration would influence you in the smallest degree, but because you may not suspect, from my economical habits, the extent of my private resources. I am well aware that my impulsive nature has led me into an apparent precipitancy in writing thus; but if I cannot flatter myself that the short time I have passed in your society has sufficed to inspire you with a reciprocal sentiment, Lady Broadhem's assurance that I may depend upon your acceding to her wishes in this the most important act of your life, affords me the strongest encouragement.—Believe me, yours most faithfully,
"Frank Vanecourt."
"Frank Vanecourt."
I have already observed that, when my mind is very deeply absorbed in composition, I become almost insensible to external influences: thus it was not until I had finished my letter, and was reading it over, that I became conscious of sounds in the drawing-room. I was just thinking that I had got the word "sentiment" twice, and was wondering what I could substitute for that expressive term, when I suppose I must have overheard, for I insensibly found myself signing my name "Jewel." Then came the unmistakable sound of Chundango's voice mentioning the name dearest to me. "Remember, Lady Ursula," said that regenerate pagan, "there are very few men who could offer their brides such a collection of jewels as I can. Think, that although of a different complexion from yourself, I am of royal blood. You are surely too enlightened and noble-minded to allow the trivial consideration of colour to influence you."
"Mr Chundango," said Lady Ursula, and I heard the rustle of her dress as she rose from her chair, "you really must excuse me from listening to you any more."
"Stop one moment," said Chundango; and I suspect he tried to get hold of her hand, for I heard a short quick movement; "I have not made this proposal without receiving first the sanction of Lady Broadhem." "Deceitful old hypocrite"; thought I, with suppressed fury. "When I told her ladyship that I would settle a million's worth of pounds upon you in jewellery and stock, that my blood was royal, and that all my aspirations were for social distinction, she said she desired no higher qualification. 'What, dear Mr Chundango,' she remarked, 'matters the colour of your skin if your blood is pure? If your jewellery and your conversion are both genuine, what more could an anxious mother desire for her beloved daughter?'"
"Spare me, I implore you," said Ursula, in a voice betraying great agitation. "You don't know the pain you are giving me."
Whether Chundango at this moment fell on his knees, which I don't think likely, as natives never thus far humble themselves before the sex, or whether he stumbled over a footstool in trying to prevent her leaving the room—which is more probable—I could not discover. I merely heard a heavy sound and then the door open. I think the Indian must have hurt himself, as the next time I heard his voice it was trembling with passion.
"Lady Broadhem," he said—for it appears she it was who had entered the room—"I do not understand Lady Ursula's conduct. I thought obedience to parents was one of the first precepts of the Christian religion; but when I tell her your wishes on the subject of our marriage, she forbids me to speak. I will now leave her in your hands, and I hope I shall receive her from them in the evening in another and a better frame of mind;" and Chundango marched solemnly out and banged the door after him.
"What have you done, Ursula?" said Lady Broadhem, in a cold, hard voice. "I suppose some absurd prejudice about his colour has influenced you in refusing a fortune that few girls have placed at their feet. He is a man of remarkable ability; in some lights there is a decided richness in his hue; and Lord Dickiefield tells me he fully expects to see him some day Under-Secretary for India, and ultimately perhaps in the Cabinet. Moreover, he is very lavish, and would take a pride in giving you all you could possibly want, and in meeting all our wishes. He would be most useful to Broadhem, whose property, you know, was dreadfully involved by his father in his young days-in fact, he promised me to pay off £300,000 of the debt upon his personal security, and not ask for any interest for the first few years. All this you are throwing away for some girlish fancy for some one else."
Here my heart bounded. "Dear girl," thought I, "she loves me, and I'll rush in and tell her that I return her passion. Moreover, I will overwhelm that old woman with confusion for having so grossly deceived me." A scarcely audible sob from Lady Ursula decided me, and to the astonishment of mother and daughter I suddenly revealed myself. Lady Ursula gave a start and a little exclamation, and before I could explain myself, had hurried from the room. Lady Broadhem confronted me, stern, defiant, and indignant.
"Is it righteous,—Lady Broadhem——" I began, but she interrupted me.
"My indignation? Yes, Lord Frank, it is."
"No, Lady Broadhem; I did not allude to your indignation, which is unjustifiable. I was about to express my feelings in language which I thought might influence you with reference to the deception you have practised upon me. You gave me to understand only half an hour ago that you approved of my attachment to your daughter; you implied that that attachment was returned—indeed, I have just overheard as much from her own lips; and now you deliberately urge her to ally herself with—the thought is too horrible!" and I lifted my handkerchief to my eyes to conceal my unaffected emotion.
"Lord Frank," said Lady Broadhem, calmly, "you had no business to overhear anything; however, I suppose the state of your feelings must be your excuse. It seems that we entirely misunderstood each other this morning. The attachment I then alluded to was the one you have just heard Mr Chundango declare. I did so, because I thought of asking you to find out some particulars about him which I am anxious to know. I was utterly ignorant of your having entertained the same feelings for Ursula. What settlements are you prepared to make?"
This question was put so abruptly that a mixed feeling of indignation and contempt completely mastered me. At these moments I possess the faculty of sublime impertinence.
"I shall make Broadhem a liberal allowance, and settle an annuity upon yourself, which my solicitor will pay you quarterly. I know the family is poor; it will give me great pleasure to keep you all."
Lady Broadhem's lips quivered with anger; but the Duke of Dunderhead's second son, who had inherited all the Flityville property through his mother, was a fish worth landing, so she controlled her feelings with an effort of self-possession which commanded my highest admiration, and said in a gentle tone as she held out her hand with a subdued smile,—
"Forgive the natural anxiety of a mother, Lord Frank, as I forgive you for that last speech." Here she lifted her eyes and remained silent for a few moments, then she sighed deeply. She meant me to understand by this that she had been permitted to overcome her feelings of resentment towards me, and was now overflowing with Christian charity.
"Dear Lady Broadhem," I replied, affectionately, for I felt preternaturally intelligent, and ready for the most elaborate maternal strategy, "how thankful we ought to be that on an occasion of this kind we can both so thoroughly command our feelings! Believe me, your anxiety for your daughter's welfare is only equalled by the fervour of my affection for her. Shall we say £100,000 in stock, and Flityville Park as a dower-house?"
"What stock, Lord Frank?" asked her ladyship, as she subsided languidly into a chair; "not Mexicans or Spanish passives, I do most fervently trust."
"No," said I, maliciously; "nearly all in Confederate and Greek loans."
"Oh!" she ejaculated, with a little scream, as if something had stung her.
"What is the matter, Lady Broadhem?" and she looked so unhappy and disconcerted that I had compassion on her. "I was only joking; you need be under no apprehension as to the securities—they are as sound as your own theology, and would satisfy the Lord Chancellor quite as well."
"Oh, it was not that! Perhaps some day when you and dear Ursula are married, I will tell you all about it; for you have my full consent; and I need not say what an escape I think she has had from that black man.Entre nous, as it is most important you should understand exactly the situation, I must correct one error into which you have fallen; she is not in love with you, Lord Frank; you must expect a little opposition at first; but that will only add zest to the pursuit, and my wishes will be paramount in the end. The fact is, but this is a profound secret, your friend Lord Grandon has behaved most improperly in the matter. He came down on some pretence of instilling his ridiculous notions into Broadhem, who took a fancy to him when we were all staying at Lady Mundane's, and I strongly opposed it, as I fancied, even then, he was paying Ursula too much attention; but she has such influence with Broadhem that she carried her point, because, she said, her brother could only get good from him. What exactly passed at Broadhem I don't know; but I was so angry at the idea of an almost penniless Irish peer taking advantage of his opportunities as a visitor to entrap my girl's affections, that I told him I expected some people, and should want his bedroom. He left within an hour, and Ursula declares he never uttered a word which warranted this decisive measure; but people can do a good deal without 'uttering,' as she calls it; and I am quite determined not to let them see anything of each other during the season. Fortunately Lord Grandon scarcely ever goes out, and Broadhem, whose eyes are opened at last, has promised to watch him. Whoever Ursula marries must do something for Broadhem."
Although I am able to record this speech word for word, I am quite unable to account for the curious psychological fact, that it has become engraven on my memory, while, at the time, I was unconscious of listening to it. The pattern of the carpet, a particular curl of Lady Broadhem's "front," the fact that the clock struck one, are all stamped upon the plate of my internal perceptive faculties with the vividness of a photograph. The vision of happiness which I had conjured up was changing into a hideous contrast, and reminded me of the Diorama at the Colosseum in my youth, where a fairy landscape, with a pastoral group at lunch in the foreground, became gradually converted into a pandemonium of flames and devils.
I felt borne along by a mighty torrent which was sweeping me from elysian fields into some fathomless abyss. Love and friendship both coming down together in one mighty crash, and the only thing left standing—Lady Broadhem—right in front of me—a very stern reality indeed. I don't the least know the length of time which elapsed between the end of her speech and when I returned to consciousness—probably not many seconds, though it seemed an age. I gasped for breath, so she kindly came to my relief.
"My dear Lord Frank," she said, "after all it might have been worse. Supposing that Lord Grandon had not been your friend, or had not had the absurd Quixotic ideas which I understand he has of the duties of friendship, he might have given you immense trouble; as it is, I am sure he has only to know the exact state of the case to retire. I know him quite well enough for that. I look upon it as providential. Had it been Mr Chundango, Grandon would most probably have persevered. Now he is quite capable of doing all he can to help you with Ursula."
I groaned in spirit. How well had Lady Broadhem judged the character of the man to whom she would not give her daughter!
"I am so glad to think, Lady Broadhem," said I, with a bitter laugh, "that you do not suspect me of such a ridiculous exaggeration of sentiment. So far from it, it seems to impart a peculiar piquancy to the pursuit when success is only possible at the sacrifice of another's happiness; and when that other is one's oldest friend, there is a refinement of emotion, a sort of pleasurable pain, which is quite irresistible. To what element in our nature do you attribute this?"
"To original sin, I am afraid," said Lady Broadhem, looking down, for my manner seemed to puzzle, and make her nervous.
"Oh, it is not at all 'original,'" said I. "Whatever other merit it possesses, it can't claim originality—it is the commonest thing in the world; but I think it is an acquired taste at first—it grows upon you like caviar or olives. I remember some years ago, in Australia, running away with the wife of a charming fellow——"
"Oh, Lord Frank, Lord Frank, please stop! Have you repented? and where is she?"
"No," I said, "I never intend to repent; and I'll tell you where she is after the marriage."
At this crisis the demon of recklessness which had sustained me, and prompted the above atrocious falsehood, deserted me suddenly, so I leant against the mantelpiece and sobbed aloud. I remember deriving a malicious satisfaction from the idea that Lady Broadhem thought I was weeping for my imaginary Australian.
"How very dreadful!" said she, when I became somewhat calmer. "We must forget the past, and try and reform ourselves, mustn't we?" she went on, caressingly; "but I had no idea that you had passed through ajeunesse orageuse. Do you know, I think men, when they do steady, are always the better for it."
"Well, I hope Lady Ursula may keep me quiet; nothing else ever has yet. I suppose you won't expect me to go to church?"
"We'll talk about that after the marriage, to use your own expression," replied Lady Broadhem, with a smile.
"Because, you know, I am worse than Grandon as regards orthodoxy. Now, Chundango is so thoroughly sound, don't you think, after all, that that is the first consideration?"
"To tell you the truth—but of course I never breathed it to Ursula—I attach a good deal of importance to colour."
"Ah, I see; you classify us somewhat in this way: first, if you can get it, rich, orthodox, and white; second, rich, heterdox, and white; third, rich, orthodox, and black. Now, in my opinion, to attach any importance whatever to colour is wicked. My objections to Mr Chundango do not apply to his skin, which is as good as any other, but to his heart, which I am afraid is black. I prefer a pure heart in a dark skin to a black heart in a white one," and I looked significantly at her ladyship. "Supposing that out of friendship for Grandon I should do the absurd thing of withdrawing my pretensions, what would happen?"
"I should insist upon Ursula's marrying Mr Chundango. I tell you in confidence, Lord Frank, that pecuniary reasons, which I will explain more fully at another time, render it absolutely necessary that she should marry a man with means within the next six months. The credit of our whole family is at stake; but it is impossible for me to enter into details now." At this moment the luncheon was announced. I followed Lady Broadhem mechanically towards the dining-room, but instead of entering it went up-stairs like one in a dream, and ordered my servant to make arrangements for my immediate departure. I pulled an arm-chair near my bedroom fire, and gazed hopelessly into it.
People call me odd. I wonder really whether the conflicts of which my brain is the occasional arena are fiercer than those of others. I wonder whether other people's thoughts are as like clouds as mine are—sometimes, when it is stormy, grouping themselves in wild fantastic forms; sometimes chasing each other through vacancy, for no apparent purpose; sometimes melting away in "intense inane;" and again consolidating themselves, black and lowering, till they burst in a passionate explosion. What are they doing now? and I tried in vain to stop the mental kaleidoscope which shifted itself so rapidly that I could not catch one combination of thought before it was succeeded by another; but always the same prominent figures dodging madly about the chambers of my brain—Chundango, Ursula, Lady Broadhem, and Grandon; Lady Broadhem, Chundango, Grandon, and Ursula—backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards, like some horrid word that I had to spell in a game of letters, and could never bring right. Love, friendship, hate, pity, admiration, treachery—more words to spell, ever combining wrongly, and never letting me rest, till I thought something must crack under the strain. Then mockingly came a voice ringing in my ears—Peace, peace, peace—and I fancied myself lulled to rest in her arms, and I heard the cooing of doves mingle with the soft murmur of her voice as she leant wistfully over me, and I revelled in that most fatal of all nightmares—the nightmare of those who, perishing of hunger and thirst, die of imaginary banquets. "Sweet illusion," I said, "dear to me as reality, brood over my troubled spirit, deaden its pain, heal its wounds, and weave around my being this delicious spell for ever." Then suddenly, as though my brain had been a magazine into which a spark had fallen, it blazed up; my hair bristled, and drops stood upon my forehead, for a great fear had fallen upon me. It had invaded me with the force of an overwhelming torrent, carrying all before it. It said, "Whence is the calm that soothes you? Infatuated dreamer, think you it is the subsiding of the storm, and not rather the lull that precedes it? Beware of the sleep of the frozen, from which there is no waking." What was this? was my mind regaining its balance, or was it going to lose it for ever? Most horrid doubt! the very thought was so much in the scale on the wrong side. Oh for something to lean upon—some strong stay of common-sense to support me! I yearned for the practical—some fact on which to build. "I have got it," I exclaimed suddenly. "There must be some osseous matter behind my dura mater!" I shall never forget the consolation which this notion gave me: it relieved me from any further psychological responsibility, so to speak; I gave up mental analysis. I attributed the keen susceptibility of my æsthetic nature to this cause, and accepted it as I would the gout, without a murmur. Still I needed repose and solitude, so I determined to go to Flityville and arrange my ideas, no longer alarmed at the confusion in which they were, but with the steadfast purpose of disentangling them quietly, as I would an interesting knot. Hitherto I had been tearing at it madly and making it worse; now I had got the end of the skein—"osseous matter"—and would soon unravel it. So I descended calmly to the drawing-room.
I found it empty, but it occurred to me I had left my letter to Lady Ursula in the recess, and in the agitation attending my interview with Lady Broadhem, had forgotten to go back for it. I pushed back theportière, and saw seated at the writing-table Lady Ursula herself. She looked pale and nervous, while I felt overwhelmed with confusion and embarrassment. This was the more trying, as many years have elapsed since I have experienced any such sensations.
"Oh, you don't happen to have seen a letter lying about anywhere, do you, Lady Ursula?" said I. "It ought to be under your hand, for I left it exactly on that spot."
"No," she said; "I found mamma writing here when I came, and she took a packet of letters away with her; perhaps she put yours among them by mistake. She will be back from her drive almost immediately."
"I hope so," said I. "I should be sorry to leave without seeing her."
"To leave, Lord Frank! I thought you were going to stay till Monday." She looked up rather appealingly, I thought, as if my presence would have been a satisfaction to her under the circumstances; and I saw, as I returned her steady earnest gaze, that she little guessed the purport of the missing letter.
At that moment my head began to swim, and the figures to dance about in my brain again. Chundango and Grandon seemed locked in a death-struggle, and Ursula, with dishevelled hair, trying to separate them, while Lady Broadhem, in the background, was clapping her hands and urging them on. I seemed spinning round the group with such rapidity that I was obliged to steady myself with one hand against the back of Lady Ursula's chair.
"What's the matter? what's the matter, Lord Frank?" she exclaimed.
"Osseous matter, osseous matter," I murmured mechanically, and it sounded so like an echo of her words that I am sure she thought me going mad. Should I throw myself at her feet and tell her all? If she would only trample upon me and my feelings together, it would be a luxury compared to the agony of self-control I was inflicting upon myself. If I could only pour myself out in a torrent of passionate expression, and wind up with a paroxysm of tears, she was welcome to treat me as a raving lunatic, but I should be much less likely to become one. But how, knowing what I did, could I face Grandon afterwards? Before that fatal conversation with Lady Broadhem, I should have had the satisfaction of hearing my fate from Lady Ursula herself, and I know that she would have treated me so tenderly that rejection would have been a thousand times preferable to this. She would have known then the intensity of my affection, she would have heard from my own lips the burning words with which I would have pleaded my cause, and, whatever might have been the result, would have pitied and felt for me. Now, if I say nothing, and Lady Broadhem tells her when I am gone that she considers us engaged, what will Ursula think of me? Again, if Lady Broadhem thinks I am really going to do what my conscience urges, and sacrifice myself for Grandon, then, poor girl, she will be sacrificed to Chundango.
Nothing but misery will come out of that double event: if I do what is right, it will bring misery; if I do what is wrong, it will bring misery too,—that is one consolation—it makes the straight and narrow path easier. The only difficulty is, I can't find it—and standing here with my hand on her chair, my head swimming, and Lady Ursula looking anxiously up at me, I am not likely to find it.
"Lord Frank, do let me ring the bell and send for a glass of water," she said at last.
"Thanks, no; the fact is, that letter I have lost causes me the greatest anxiety, and when I thought what the consequences might be of its going astray I felt a little faint for a moment."
"Dear me," said Lady Ursula, kindly, "I will make mamma look for it at once, and I am sure if it is a matter in which my sympathy could be of any use, you will appreciate my motive in offering it; but I do think in this world people might be of so much more use to each other than they are, if they would only trust one another, and believe in the sincerity of friendship. Although you did try to shock me last night," she said, with a smile, "I have heard so much of you from Lord Grandon, and know how kind and good you are, although he says you are too enthusiastic and too fond of paradoxes, but I assure you I consider you quite an old friend. You remember, years ago, when I was a little girl, how you used to gallop about with me on my pony in the park at Broadhem? You won't think me inquisitive, I am sure, in saying this, but there are moments sometimes when it is a relief to find a listener to the history of one's troubles."
"But when, by a curious fatality, that listener is the cause of them all, these moments are not likely to arrive," I thought, but did not say. Is it not enough to love a woman to distraction, and be obliged by every principle of honour to conceal it from her, without her pressing upon you her sympathy, and inviting your confidence? and the very tenderness which had prompted her speech rose up against her in judgment in my mind. So ready with her friendship, too! Should I tell her bitterly that she was the only being in the whole world whose friendship could aggravate my misery? Should I congratulate her upon the ingenuity she had displayed in thus torturing me? or should I revenge myself by giving her the confidence she asked, and requesting her to advise me how to act under the circumstances? Then I looked at the gentle earnest face, and my heart melted. My troubles! Do I not know too well what hers are? Perhaps it would be a relief to her to hear, that if worse comes to worst, she can always escape Chundango by falling back upon me. If she is driven to begging me to offer myself up on her shrine, what a very willing sacrifice she would find me! As she knows that I must have overheard what passed between her and Chundango this morning, shall I make a counter-proposition of mutual confidence, and allude delicately to that most painful episode! If she is generous enough to forget her own troubles and think of me, why should not I forget mine and think of her? The idea of this contradiction in terms struck me as so exquisitely ludicrous, that I laughed aloud.
"Ha! ha! ha! Lady Ursula, if you only knew what a comic aspect that last kind speech of yours has given to the whole affair. Don't think me ungrateful or rude, but—ha! ha! ha!" Here I went off again. "When once my sense of humour is really touched, I always seem to see the point of a joke to quite a painful degree. Upon two occasions I have suffered from fits after punning, and riddles always make me hysterical; but I assure you, you unconsciously made a joke just now when you asked me to tell you exactly what I felt, which I shall remember as long as I live, for it will certainly be the death of me—ha! ha! ha!" But Lady Ursula had risen from her chair and rung the bell before I had finished my speech, and I was still laughing when the servant came into the room, followed by Lady Broadhem and Lady Bridget.
"Dear me," said Lady Broadhem, with her most winning smile, "how very merry you are!—at least Lord Frank is. You seem a little pale, dear," turning to Ursula; "what is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, mamma. Lord Frank has been looking for a letter in the recess. You don't happen to have put it up with yours, do you?"
"No, my dear, I think not," said Lady Broadhem, looking through a bundle. "Who was it to, Lord Frank, if you will pardon my curiosity? I shall find it more easily if you will give me the address."
"Nobody in particular," said I, "so it does not matter; you can keep it and read it. It is a riddle; that is what has been amusing us so much. Lady Ursula has been making such absurd attempts to guess it. Good-bye, Lady Broadhem. Here is the servant come to say that my fly is at the door."
"Good gracious! Why, where are you going?" said she, evidently imagining that her daughter and I had had some thrilling episode, and that I was going away in a huff, so I determined to mystify her still more.
"Oh, only to Flityville to get everything ready; you know what a state the place is in. Now," and I looked tenderly into the amazed face of Lady Ursula, "I shall indeed have an object in putting it in order, and I shall expect you and Lady Ursula to come some day soon and suggest the improvements. I have only one request to make before leaving, and I do so, Lady Ursula, in the presence of your mother and sister; and that is, that until I see you again, the subject of our conversation just now may never be alluded to between yourselves. Trust in me, Lady Broadhem," I said, taking her hand affectionately, "and promise me you will not ask Lady Ursula what I have just told her; if you do," I whispered, "you will spoil all," and I looked happy and mysterious. "Do you promise?"
"I do," said Lady Broadhem.
"And now, Lady Ursula," I said, crossing over to her and taking her hand, "once more good-bye, and"—I went on in so low a tone that it was impossible for Lady Broadhem to overhear it, but it made her feel sure that all was arranged between us—"you have got the most terrible secret of my life. I know I can trust you. You have seen me"—and I formed the word with my lips rather than uttered it with my breath—"MAD! Hush!" for Lady Ursula gave a quick exclamation, and almost fainted with alarm; "I am myself again now. Remember my happiness is in your keeping"—this out loud for Lady Broadhem's benefit. "I am going to say good-bye to Lady Dickiefield, and you shall hear from me when I can receive you at Flityville."
I am endowed with a somewhat remarkable faculty, which I have not been in the habit of alluding to, partly because my friends think me ridiculous if I do, and partly because I never could see any use in it, but I do nevertheless possess the power of seeing in the dark. Not after the manner of cats—the objects which actually exist—but images which sometimes appear as the condensations of a white misty-looking substance, and sometimes take a distinctly bright luminous appearance. As I gaze into absolute darkness, I first see a cloud, which gradually seems to solidify into a shape, either of an animal or some definite object. In the case of the more brilliant image, the appearance is immediate and evanescent. It comes and goes like a flash, and the subject is generally significant and beautiful. Perhaps some of my readers may be familiar with this phenomenon, and may account for it as being the result of what they call imagination, which is only putting the difficulty one step back; or may adopt the wiser course which I have followed, and not endeavour to account for it at all. Whatever be its origin, the fact remains, and I only advert to it now, as it is the best illustration I can think of to describe the mental process through which I passed in the train on my way to Flityville. My mind seemed at first a white mist—a blank sheet of paper. My interview with Lady Ursula had produced this effect upon it. Gradually, and quite unconsciously to myself, so far as any mental effort was concerned, my thoughts seemed to condense into a definite plan of action; now and then a brilliant idea would appear like a flash, and vanish sometimes before I could catch it; but in so far as the complication in which Grandon, Ursula, the Broadhem family, and myself were concerned, I seemed to see my way, or at all events to feel sure that my way would be shown to me, if I let my inspirations guide me. When once one achieves this thorough confidence in one's inspirations, the journey of life becomes simplified. You never wonder what is round the next corner, and begin to prepare for unknown contingencies; but you wait till the corner is turned, and the contingency arrives, and passively allow your mind to crystallise itself into a plan of action. At this moment, of course, I have no more notion what is going to happen to me than you have. Divest your mind, my friend, that I know anything more of the plot of this story of my life which you are reading than you do. I positively have not the slightest idea what either I or any of the ladies and gentlemen to whom I have introduced you are likely to do, or how it is all going to end. I have told you the mental process under which I act; and, of course, this is the mere record of those inspirations. Very often the most unlikely things occur to me all of a sudden: thus, while my mind was, as it were, trifling with the events which I have recounted, and throwing them into a variety of combinations, it flashed upon me in the most irrelevant manner that I would send £4000 anonymously to the Bishop of London's fund. In another second the unconscious train of thought which led me to this determination revealed itself. "Here," said I, "have I been attacking this poor colonial bishop and the Establishment to which he belongs, and what have I given him in return? I expose the abuses of his theological and ecclesiastical system, but I provide him with no remedy. I fling one big stone at the crystal palace in which Protestantism is shrivelling away, and another big stone at the crystal palace in which Catholicism is rotting, and I offer them in exchange the cucumber-frame under which I am myself squatting uncomfortably. I owe them an apology. Unfortunately I have not yet found either the man or the body of men who do not prefer hard cash to an apology—provided, of course, it be properly proportioned to the susceptibility of their feelings or the delicacy of their sense of honour. Fairly, now," I asked myself, "if it was put to the Bench of Bishops, would they consider £5000 sufficient to compensate the Church for the expressions I made use of to one of their order?" "More than sufficient," myself replied. "Then we will make it four thousand." But the whole merit of the action lies in the anonymous, and so nobody knows till they read this who it was made that munificent donation. That I should have afterwards changed my mind, and answered the advertisement of the committee, which appeared in the "agony" column of the 'Times,' who wanted to know how I wished the money applied, by a request that it should be paid back to my account at the Bank, does not affect the question; I merely wished to show the nature of my impulses, and the readiness with which I act upon them.
Some days elapsed after my arrival at Flityville before I felt moved to write to Grandon. The fact is, I was writing this record of my trials for the world in general, and did not know what to say to him in particular. At length, feeling that I owed him an explanation, I wrote as follows:—