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THE HALF-FORGOTTEN SERIES
GUY LIVINGSTONE
HALF-FORGOTTEN BOOKS.
Edited by E. A. BAKER, M.A. 2s. each.
The following are NOW READY:- \
WHITEFRIARS ; or. The Court of Charles II. '\
By Emma Robinson. 518 pp.
THE MYSTERIES OF UDOLPHO.
By Anx Radcliffe. 314 pp.
CALEB WILLIAMS. '
By AViLLiAM Godwin. 478 pp.
TOM BULLKLEY OF LISSINGTON. I
By R. :Mou.N-TENEwjKrnsoN. 444 pp. "!
MEMOIRS OF GRIMALDI THE CLOWN.
By Chakles D.ckens. With Cruikshank'8 ;
Plates. '■
SAM SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER. \
By JCDGE Halibukto-v. i
THE POTTLETON LEGACY. ^
By Alb!;et Smith. ;
OLD LONDON BRIDGE. !
G. H. RODWELL.
ROMANCE OF THE FOREST. J
By ANN Radcliffe. '
*,* Many others wi active preparation.
QUY LIVINGSTONE
DY
G. A, LAWRENCE
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
E. A. BAKER, M.A.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON ^ CO.
1903
DKAMATIS PERSONiE.
Guy Livingstone, last of an ancient family, Squire of Brains-
wick ; nicknamed " The Count " at school, for his arrogant
and indomitable temper and Herculean strength.
Flora Bellasys, the Society girl he flirts with.
CoNST.iNCE Brandon, the girl he loves.
Lady Catherint: LmNGSTONE, Guy's widowed mother.
Frank Hammond, old schoolfellow and fond admirer of Guy
Livingstone, and, nominally, author of the memoir.
CuARLEY Forrester, a friend of Guy's, cuts out Bruce and
marries Isabel Raymond.
Isabel Raymond, engaged to Bruce, runs away with Forrester-
Mr. Bruce, a surly, cowardly Scotchman, who is driven by
revenge to commit murder, and goes insane.
Ralph Mohun. an old cavalry officer, a friend of Guy's; hero
of a terrific battue of Irish moonlighters ; kills Levinge.
Horace Levtnge, a rich plebeian, brutal seducer and bully ;
killed in a duel by Mohun.
Sir Henry Fallowfield, an old roue, professional cynic and
commentator ip' ordinary. - . : ■
Cyril Brant)on, brother of Comst^nee; .
Willis, Guj's. man, a .traitor. , •
The Axeine, Guy's hunter — a horse as strong and as savage
as his master.
6-2
o
INTRODUCTION,
George Alfred LawPwENce (1827-1876), author of "Guy
Livingstone," " Sword and Gown," " Brakespeaie," and half
a dozen other novels, which appeared between the years 1857
and 1874, and were admired and denounced with fairly equal
vehemence, was born at Braxted Rectory, in Essex. He went
to school at Rugby, matriculated from Balliol, but took his
degree, with a second in Classics, from New Inn Hall, in 1848.
He was entered at the Middle Temple in 1852, but in 1857,
owing to the success of " Guy Livingstone," he forsook law for
literature. Lawrence took a great interest in military matters.
He was a young man, just entering upon the serious business
of life, at the time of the Crimean War, when, as Kingsley puts
it, " the battle-roar was ringing in our ears," and the nation
•was sthred with martial ardour even more powerfully than in
our own days by the late war in South Africa. He obtained
a commission in the Militia, and was commonly known to con-
temporaries as Major Lawrence. At the outbreak of the
American Civil War his sympathies with the South took a
practical shape. He sailed to the States with the intention
of joining the Confederate army, but before he reached their
lines he was captured by the Federalists, and released from
durance only at the English ambassador's intercession, and on
the express condition that he should return at once to England.
He wrote a narrative of these adventures in '* Border and
Bastile " (1863). Besides his ten novels, Lawrence published
a " Bundle of Ballads " (1864). One seems to have an inklmg
of the peculiar character and spirit of his novels in their titles,
" Sword and Gown," " Brakespeare," " Barren Honour," " Sans
Merci; or, Kestrels and Falcons," " Anteros," "Breaking a
Butterfly," " Hagarene." " Guy Livingstone " appeared anony-
mously, the others being simply ascribed to the author of that
work. The last w^as "Hagarene" (1874), and Lawrence died
S31192
VI INTRODUCTION.
'^ two years later. As a chief exemplar of the fiction that de-
lighted the public of fifty years ago, and raore still as the leader
of a school whose influence is powerful even now, and is mani-
fested' strongly by one of our most conspicuous groups of novel
writers, he deserves that two or three, at least, of his works
should still be read. Nor need one hesitate to recommend hira
to others than the professed student of literature. Though tho
ideal of victorious manhood that he glorifies appeal but feebly
to our cultivated tastes, yet the life and energy with which it is
set before us prove Lawrence a novelist of no mean dramatic
power.
This scanty biography may help to illustrate how much
Lawrence's imagination and feeling were affected by the war
spirit that was abroad in the days of his early manhood. IIo
speaks of that period in " Sword and Gown " as " a time that
we all remember right well ; when, without note of preparation,
the war-trumpets sounded from the East to the North; when
Europe woke up, like a giant refreshed, from the slumber of a
forty years' peace, and took down disused weapons from the
wall, and donned a rusty armour." The influence of that
martial spirit was wide and deep; it begat the '"muscular
novel," and it reawakened among novelists and readers gener-
ally a love for strenuousness, for action and adventure, and for
types of character eminently adapted for action and adventure.
One only has to compare the most eminent novelists of the
second quarter of the nineteentli century with those of the third
quarter — Dickens and Thackeray, the youthful Disraeli, Lytton
and the Brontes, with the two Kingslcys and Whyte Melville,
Charles Reade, Lawrence, Meadows Ta3'lor, James Grant, and
the author of " Tom Brown's Schooldays " — to have this brought
home to one. It was Kingsley's strenuous romances that sug-
gested the name ; they were said to inculcate the gospel of
" muscular Christianity " ; but the word " muscular " stuck to
Lawrence with peculiar tenacity, probably because of the
offensive, but not altogether unmerited, parody adopted by his
detractors — to wit, " muscular blackguardism." lie accepted
the word "muscular" without grumbling, and in "Sword and
Gown " defended the " physical force doctrine " against critics
by appeals to the tradition in favour of powerful heroes from
the time of the Greeks down to that of " Adam Bede," published
that same year, 1859. Add to this martial feeling of his a
hatred for everything democratic, politically and socially, and
a recoil from certain smugly virtuous and genteel types of
INTLODUCTIOX. Vll
cliaracter that were current in fiction at tliat time or earlier,
and you have most of the prejudices and prepossessions that
brought forth the " muscular hero." The recoil went too far, of
course, but we may reasonabl}'- allow for a certain measure of
violence and exaggeration in a conception of character that was,
in a large degree, put forward as a defiance. The Laurentian
hero was described, by those whom he irritated, as a mixture
of libertine and prize-fighter. This hero, who reappears with
merely superficial differences of character in novel after novel,
is endowed wtth prodigious bodily strength, with a savage and
implacable temper, usually masked under an imperturbable
exterior, and with a haughty, domineering, and contemptuous
demeanour towards ever3^l)ody and everything not belonging to
his own order, for he is an aristocrat of purest blood — indeed
every character of Lawrence's who is treated with the slightest
respect is " thoroughbred." The fundamental selfishness of
this half-civihzed being is quite in keeping with the other char-
acteristics, but its true nature is disguised by a magnificence
of manner that imposes as a lordly kind of generosity. And so
far as his own order is concerned, it is kept in restraint by his
nice sense of personal honour. The Laurentian hero has a
likeness to the Byronic hero, and one can trace in the concep-
tion not only the animus and Bohemianism that were con-
spicuous in the author of " Don Juan," but also a very similar
instinct for theatrical effect.
" Guy Livingstone " is Lawrence^s representative novel and
the biography of his representative hero. The memoir is
supposed to be wiitten by an old crony, who idolizes Guy.
Lawrence is said to have told the story of his own school and
college life in the earlier chapters ; a report that added piquancy
to the novel, whether true, or only a guess suggested by its
biographical form. The redeeming quality of Guy's character,
and in fact of all these heroes, a capacity for immense passion,
comes out in the principal episode, the rupture of his engage-
ment to Constance Brandon, a situation that recurs in other
books, with slight differences. Major Royston Keene, the
" Cool Captain," for instance, in " Sword and Gown," wins the
heart of a proud society beauty, Cecil Tresilyan, and then
divulges the fact that he has a wife living. She consents to
elope, but the opportune arrival of an old lover who would fain
save her honour frustrates the scheme. The lovers go their
different wa3^s; Keene settles down to a gloomy and taciturn
existence, and sails for the Crimean War, hoping to die. Then
Vlll INlTtODUCTIO:^.
Tresilyan follows liim as a sister of charity. They meet again
^vhen the " Cool Captain " is dying, wounded in the Balaclava
charge, and Lawrence closes a tragic scene with the apostrophe,
" Let us stand aside and hope —
" That heaven may have more mercy than man
On such a bold rider's soul."
In spite of their endless amours, these heroes love but one
woman in a lifetime ; and when that affair ends unhappily, life
is a burden to them, and they meet their fate with more than
resignation. The characters of Guy Livingstone and Royston
Keene are put before us with singular force and energy ; Law-
rence's objective manner renders all his men and women very
real, yet every episode, every incident, every conversation
enhances the predominating effect of the central character.
Lawrence is fond of alluding to his typical hero as a Berserkyr.
Guy is like a Berserkyr out of his element in an age of peace
and civilization. The implied contrast between the inherent
medisevalism of his character and the incongruous circum-
stances of the modern world is, no doubt, the strong point of
the novel. At any rate, Lawrence is not quite so interesting
in " Brakespeare ; or, the Fortunes of a Free Lance," where he
places his muscular hero in what would seem a perfectly natural
environment, among the knights of Du Guesclin and Chandos.
This stalwart knight-errant is not more powerful in body and
mind, more stubborn and implacable, than Guy Livingstone, but
his energies find vent in action, and in his strenuous life there is
little room for the illicit enjoyments in which the modern heroes
spend their too abundant leisure. Though he is as stern and
sombre as the others, Brakespeare is, on the whole, an engaging
hero — too simple-minded and primitive for cynicism — a type of
true manliness ; there is real tragedy in the sadness of his end,
not in the manner of it, glorified by a splendid feat of arms, but
in the irony of fate that robbed him of hard- won happiness.
The later novels are not distinguished by such strong features ;
there is less muscularity, the characters having sobered down
nearly to the average standard. The somewliat " naughty "
and defiant tone prevails in all, however, down to the last,
*' Hagarene," where Lawrence, like most novelists, gives us his
idea of an adventuress. This Becky Sharp of his, Mariette
Clyde, in spite of the wicked things she docB, is by no means
an unpleasant character altogether. She has natural feeling,
I:s^TKOI)t;cTIo^^ ix
and .-he is devoid of meanness. Her end, too, is tragic enougli ;
in fact, all the novels end disastrously, the calamities brought
on their own heads by the misdeeds of his heroes being some
compensation for the dubious morality. " Breaking a Butterfly "
closes with a wholesale execution by poison, broken heart, and
other mishaps. Although Lawrence's stories all deal with the
theme of irregular love, he disdains to enter into scandalous
details ; and no one is likely to be hurt much by his defiant
morality, for the simple reason that when he is most defiant ho
is least convincing. His fierce individualism and incorrigible
prejudices against the people are a strange contrast to the
Christian socialism of Kingsley, whom he admired warmly, and
with whom he shared the " physical force " doctrine. He never
tires of inventing contemptuous epithets for the plebeian, the
roturier ; he loves to distinguish between the two classes of
liuraanity represented by "the man and the serf," and his
tirades upon aristocratic virtue, upon the unequalled gifts of
endurance, for example, that belong to ancient blood, are often
as eloquent as they are arrogant. —
" I speak it diffidently, with the fear of the Divine voice of
the people before my eyes, as is but fitting in these equalizing
days, when territories, the title to which is possession imme-
morial, are being plucked away acre by acre, and hereditary
privileges mined one by one ; but it seems to me, in this per-
haps solitary attribute, ' the brave old houses ' still keep their
pre-eminence." — ^
At his best Lawrence's style is admirably vivid and imagi-
native ; at his w^orst it is florid, pretentious, and not by any
means a well of English undefiled. Bret Harte satirized his
aftectation of learning, as well as other mannerisms, very effec-
tively in " Guy Heavystone." He sacrifices everything to
vivacity ; he is hardly ever dull. His prose can still delight
those who appreciate " smartness," as well as certain finer
qualities. "When such ohiter dicta as this sally about Homer
drop from a man abundantly, he is, without question, a writer.
" And yet they say that the glorious old Sciote w^as a mythe,
and the Odyssey a magazine worked out by clever contributors.
They might as well assert that all his marshals would have
made up one Napoleon." And here is an imaginative simile :
" His own outbreak of anger vanished before that terrible burst
of wrath, just as the camp-fire, wiien the prairie is blazing, is
swallowed up in the great roaring torrent of flame."
Very superior people love to describe him as " Ouidaesque,"
X INTRODUCTION.
a phrase that expresses rather aptly many qualities both of
language and manner. Part of the entertainment that he
purveys is due, some one whispers, to our superior discernment,
to our laughter at his serene faith in the sublimity of his heroes
and tragic situations, and at his pretensions to write in the grand
style. But though his ideal of victorious manhood accord not
with our refined tastes, though his crude hedonism be worthy
of the dark ages, and the egoism of his ijatrician heroes outrage
modern sensitiveness and humanity, yet the breath of life is in
his books. In certain respects " Guy Livingstone " is a great
novel, if we consider the ability to represent life rather than
the author's theories about life. The energ}'-, the audacity,
the dramatic force with which these singular types of character
are made to think, to speak, and to act, justify Professor
Saintsbury's dictum that Lawrence came " not so very far short
of genius."
E. A. P.
GUY LIYINGSTONE.
CHAPTER I.
Neque imbellem feroces
Progenerant a(=[uila3 columbam.
It is not a pleasant epoch in one's life — the first forty
eight hours at a large public school. I have known
strong-minded men of mature age confess that they
never thought of it without a shiver. I don't count the
home- sickness, which perhaps only afiects, seriously,
the most innocent of ddhutaiits, but there are other
thousand-and-one little annoyances which make up a
great trouble. If there were nothing else, for in-
stance, the unceasing query, * What's your name?*
makes you feel the possession of a cognomen at all a
serious burden and bar to advancement in life.
A dull afternoon, towards the end of October ; tlie
sky a neutral tint of ashy grey ; a bitter north-east
wind tearing down the yellow leaves from the old elms
that girdle the school-close of ; a foul clinging
paste of mud and trampled grass-blades under foot,
Z GTDY LIVINGSTONE.
that chilled you to the marrow ; a mob of two hun-
dred lower-boys, vicious with cold and the enforcement
of keeping goal through the first foot-ball match of
the season — in the midst, I, who speak to j^ou, feel-
ing myself in an eminently false position — there's
the misc en scene.
My small persecutors had sui-rounded me, but had
hardly time to settle well to their work, when one of
the plaj^ers came by and stopped for an instant to see
what was going on. The match had not yet begun.
There was nothing which interested him much ap-
parently, for he was passing on, when my despond-
ent answer to the everlasting question caught his
ear. He turned roimd then —
* Any relation to Hammond of Holt ? '
I replied, meekly but rather more cheerfully, that
he was my uncle.
'I know him very well,' the new comer said.
* Don't bully him more than you can help, you fel-
lows ; I'll wait for you after calling over, Hammond.
I should like to ask you about the squire.'
He had no time to say more, for just then the ball
was kicked off, and the battle, began. I saw him
afterwards often during that afternoon, always in the
front of the rush, or the thick of the scrimmage, and
I saw, too, more than one player limp out of his path
disconsolately, trj^ng vainly to dissemble the pain of
a vicious * hack.'
GUY LITINGSTONE. 3
I'll try to sketch Guy Livingstone, as he appeared
to me then, at our first meeting.
He was about fifteen, but looked fully a year older,
not only from his height, but from a disproportionate
length of limb and development of muscle, which
ripened later into the rarest union of , activity and
strength that I have ever known, f His features were
very dark and pale, too strongly marked to be called
handsome; about the lips and lower jaw especially
there was a set sternness that one seldom sees before
the beard is grown. The eyes were very dark grey,
nearly black, and so deeply set under the thick eye-
brows that they looked smaller than they really were;
and I remember, even at that early age, their expres-
sion, .when angered, was anything but pleasant to
meet. " His di-ess was well adapted for displaying his
deep square chest and sinewy arms — a close-fitting
jersey, and white trousers girt by a broad black belt;
the cap, orange velvet, fronted with a silver Maltese
cross. —
The few words he had spoken worked an imme-
diate change in my favour. I heard one of my tor-
mentors say, not \\dthout awe — ' The Count knows his
people at home;' and they not only left me in peace,
but, a little later, some of them began to tell me of a
recent exploit of Guy's, which had raised him high
in their simple hero-worship, and which, I dare say,
is still enumerated among the feats of the brave days
4 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
of old, by the fags over their evening small-
beer.
To appreciate it, you must imderstand that the
highest form in the school — the Sixth — wore regard-
ed by the fags, and other subordinate classes, with an
inexpressible reverence and terror. They were con-
sidered as exempt from the common frailties of school-
boy nature : no one ventured to fix a limit to their
power. Like the Gods of the Lotus-eater, they lay
beside their nectar, rarely communing with ordinary
mortals except to give an order, or set a punishment.
On the form immediately below them part of their
glory was reflected; these were a sort of r}/xt^eot,
awaiting their translation into the higher Olympus
of perfected omnipotence.
In this intermediate state flourished, at the time I
speak of, one Joseph Baines, a fat, small-eyed youth,
with immense pendent pallid cheeks, rejoicing in the
sobriquet of ' Buttons ' — his father being eminent in
that line in the Midland Metropolis. The son was
Bru mm agem to the back-bone. He was intensely
stupid ; but, having been a fixture at beyond the
memory of the oldest inhabitant, he had slowly gra^d-
tated on into his present position, on the old Ring
principle — ' weight must tell.' I believe he had been
bullied continuously for many years, and now, with
a dull pertinacious malignity, was biding his time,
intending, on his accession to power^ to inflict full
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 5
reprisals on those below him ; or, in his o^vn express-
ive language, *to take it out of 'em, like smoke.*
He was keeping his hand in by the perpetration of
small tyrannies on all whom he was not afraid to
meddle with ; but, hitherto, from a lingering suspi-
cion, perhaps, that it was not quite safe, he had
never annoyed Livingstone.
It was on a Saturday night, the hebdomadal Satur-
nalia, when the week's work was over, and no one had
anything to do ; the heart of Joseph was jocund with
pork-chops and mulled beer, and, his evil genius
tempting him, he proposed to three of his intimates
* to go and give the Count a turn.' Nearly every
one had a nickname, and this had been given to Gruy,
partly, I think, from his haughty demeanour, partly
from a prevalent idea that this German dignity was
dormant somewhere in his family. When the quar-
tette entered, Guy knew perfectly what they came
for, but he sat quite still and silent, while two of
them held him down by the arms in his chair.
*I think you'd look very well with a cross on.
Count,' Baines said; *so keep steady while we de-
corate you.'
As he spoke he was mixing up a paste with tallow
and candle-snuff, and, when it was ready, came near
to daub the cross on Livingstone's forehead.
The two who held him had been quite deceived by
his unexpected tranquillity, and had somewhat relaxed
6 GXTY LIVINGSTONE.
their gripe as they leant forward to witness the opera-
tion ; but the fourth, standing idle, saw all at once
the pupils of his eyes contract, and his lips set so
ominously, that the words were in his mouth — ' Hold
him fast ! * when Guy, exerting the full force of his
arms, shook himself clear ; and grasping a brass can-
dlestick within his reach, struck the executioner
straight between the ej^es. The effort of freeing him-
self to some extent broke the force of the blow, or
the great Baines dynasty might have ended there
and then ; as it was. Buttons fell like a log, and,
rolling once over on his face, lay there bleeding and
motionless.
While the assistants were too much astounded to
detain him, Guy walked out without a glance at his
prostrate enemy ; and going straight to the head of
the house, told him what had happened. The char-
acter of the aggressor was so well known, that, when
they found he was not seriously hui't, they let Guy
off easy with * two books of the Iliad to write out in
Greek.' Buttons kept the sick-room for ten days,
and came out looking more pasty than ever, with his
pleasant propensities decidedly checked for the time.
In his parish church at Birmingham — two tons of
marble weighing him down — the old button-maker
sleeps with his father (to pluralize his ancestors would
be a grave historical error), and Joseph II. reigns in
his stead ; exercising, I doubt not, over his factory-
GUY LI^TNGSTONE. 7
people the same ingenuity of torture, whicli, In old
times, nearly drove the fags to rebellion. He is a
Demosthenes, they say, at vestries, and a Draco at the
Board of Guardians ; but in the centre of his broad
face, marring the platitude of its smooth-shaven re-
spectability, still bums angrily a dark red scar —
Guy's sign-manual — which he will carry to his grave.
The exultation of the lower school over this exploit
was boundless. Fifty energetic admirers contended
for the honour of writing out the punishment inflict-
ed on the avenger ; and one sentimentalist, just in
Herodotus, preserved the fatal candlestick as an in-
estimable relic, wreathing its stem with laurel and
myrtle, in imitation of the honours paid by Athens
to the sword that slew the Pisistratid.
8
CHAPTEH 11.
My only books
Were woman's looks,
And folly all they taught me
The Count bore his honours very cakoly, though
every week some fresb feat of bodily strength or
daring kept adding to his popularity. It was no
slight temptation to his vanity ; for, as some one has
said truly, no successful adventurer in after-life ever
wins such imdivided admiration and hearty partisans
as a school hero. The jprestige of the Liberator among
the Irish peasantry comes nearest to it, I think ; or
the feeling of a clan, a hundred years ago, towards
their chief. It must be very pleasant to be quoted
so incessantly and believed in so implicitly, and to
know that your decisions are so absolutely without
appeal. From that first day when he interfered in
my favour, Guy never ceased to accord me the oegia
of his protection, and it served me well ; for, then as
now, I was strong neither in body nor nerve. Yet
our tastes, save in one respect, were as dissimilar as
can be imagined. The solitary conformity was, that
we were both, in a desultory way, fond of reading,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 9
and our favourite books were the same. Neither
would do more school work than was absolutely neces-
sary, but at light literature of a certain class we read
hard.
I don't think Guy's was what is usually called a
poetical temperament ; for his taste in this line was
quite one-sided. He was no admirer of the picturesque,
certainlj^ I have heard him say that his idea of a
country to live in was, where there was no hill steep
enough to wind a horse in good condition, and no
wood that hounds could not run through in fifteen
minutes ; therein folloT\T.ng the fancy of that eminent
French philosopher, who, being invited to climb Beu
Lomond to enjoy the most magnificent of views, re-
sponded meekly — ^ Aimez-vous les heaut^s de la Na-
ture? Pour moiyje les ahhorre.^ Can you not fancy
the strident emphasis on the last syllable, reveaKng
how often the poor materiaKst had been victimized
before he made a stand at last ?
All through Livingstone's life the real was to pre-
dominate over the ideal ; and so it was at this period
of it. He had a great dislike to purely sentimental
or descriptive poetry ; preferring to all others those
battle-ballads, like the Lays of Borne, which stir the
blood like a trumpet, or those love-songs which heat
it like rough strong wine.
He was very fond of Homer, too. He liked the
diapason of those sonorous hexameters, that roll on,
10 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
sinking and swelling witli the ebb and flow of a
stormy sea. I hear his voice — deep-toned and power-
ful even at that early age — finishing the story of
Poseidon and his beautiful prize — their bridal-bed
laid in the hollow of a curling wave —
Tlopfvpeov S' dpa Kvfia TrtpitTrdOr], oiipi'i icrov,
KvpT(t)6tv, Kpv^ev dk Otbv OvrjTi'jv re yvvaiKa.
And yet they say that the glorious old Sciote was
a mythe, and the Odyssey a magazine worked out by
clever contributors. They might as well assert that
all his marshals would have made up one Napoleon.
I remember how we used to pass in review the
beauties of old time, for whom ' many drew swords
and died/ whose charms convulsed kingdoms and
ruined cities, who called the stars after their own
names.
Ah, Gyneth and Ida ! peerless queens of beauty —
it was exciting, doubtless, to gaze down from your
velveted gallery on the mad tilting below, to see ever
and anon through the yellow dust a kind handsome
face looking up at you, pale but scarcely reproachful,
just before the horse-hoofs trod it down ; ah, fairest
Ninons and Dianas ; — ^prizes that, like the Whip at
Newmarket, were always to be challenged for — you
were proud when yoUr reckless lover came to woo,
with the blood of last night* s favourite not dry on his
blade ; but what were your fatal honours, compared
to those of a reigning toast in the rough ancient days?
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 11
The demigods and heroes that were suitors did not
stand upon trifles; and the contest often ended in
the extermination of all the lady's male relatives to
the third and fourth generation. People then took
it quite as a matter of course — rather a credit to the
family than otherwise.
Guy and I discussed, often and gravely, the relative
merits of Evadne the violet-haired, Helen, Cleopatra,
and a hundred others, just as, on the steps of White's,
or in the smoking-room at the * Hag,* men compare
the points of the debutantes of the season.
His knowledge of feminine psychology — it must
have been theoretical, for he was not seventeen — im-
plied a study and depth of research that was quite
surprising ; but I am bound to state that his estimate
of the strength of character and principle inherent in
the weaker sex, was anything but high ; nearly in-
deed identical with that formed by the learned lady
who, to the question, * Did she think the virtue of
any one of her sisterhood impregnable?' replied
* C^est selon.* He often used to astonish my weak
mind by his observations on this head. I did not
know till afterwards, that Sir Henry Fallowfield, the
Bassompierre of his day, came for the Christmas
pheasant-shooting every year into Guy's neighboui'-
hood, and that he had already imbibed lessons of
questionable morality, sitting at the gouty feet of
that evil Gamaliel.
12 GUY LI"V^NGSTONE.
lie spoke of and to women of every class readily,
whenever he got the chance; always with perfect
aplomb and self-possession, and I have heard older
men remark since, that in him it did not appear the
precocity of ' the rising generation,' but rather the
confidence of one who knew his subject well. Per-
haps the fact of his father having died when he was
an infant, and his having always been suzerain
among his women at home, may have had something
to do with this. An absurd instance of what I have
been saying happened just before Guy left.
By time-honoured custom, four or five of the Sixth
were invited every week to dine with the head-mas-
ter. They were not, strictly speaking, convivial,
those solemn banquets; where the host was con-
descendingly affable, and his guests cheerful, as it
were, under protest ; resembling somewhat the enter-
tainments in the captain's cabin, where the chief is
unpopular.
Our Archididascalus was a kind-hearted honest
man, albeit by virtue of his office somewhat strict and
stern. You could read the Categories in the wrinkles
of his colourless face, and contested passages of Thucy-
dides in the crows- feet round his eyes. The ever-
lasting grind at the educational treadmill had worn
away all he might once have had of imagination ; he-
translated with precisely the same intonations the
Tusculan Disputatiojis and — "Y^pocts ai>UaT€ iJ-dxav.
GUY LrvaXGSTONE. L3
He had lately taken to himself a wife, his junior by
a score of years. The academic atmosphere had not
had time then to freeze her into the dignity befitting
her position ; when I met her, ten years later, she
was steady and staid enough, poor thing! to have
been the wife of Grotius.
Guy sat next to her that evening, and before the
first course was over a decided flirtation was estab-
lished. The pretty hostess, albeit wife of a doctor
and daughter of a dean, had evidently a strong co-
quettish element in her composition, and a very
slight spark was sufficient to relight the veteris vesti-
gia JIammce.
For some time her husband did not seem to realize
the position ; but gradually his sentences grew rare
and curt ; he opened his mouth, no longer to let fall
the pearls of his wisdom, but to stop it with savoury
meat ; finally this last resource failed, and he sat,
looking wrathfuUy but helplessly on the proceedings
at the other end of the table — a lamentable instance
of prostrated ecclesiastical dignity. His disgust, how-
ever, w^as far exceeded by the horror of one of the
party, a meek cadaverous-looking boy, whose parents
lived in the to^wTi, and who was wont to regard the
head-master as the vicegerent of aU powers, civil and
sacerdotal — I am not sure he did not include mili-
tary as well. I caught him looking several times at
the door and the ceiling with a pale guilty face, as if
14 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
he expected some immediate visitation to punish, the
sacrilege. However, Heaven, which did not inter-
rupt the feast of Atreus, or of Tereus (till the dessert),
allowed us to finish our dinner in peace. During the
interval, when we sat alone over his claret, our host
revived a little ; hut utterly relapsed in the drawing-
room, where things went on worse than ever. Guy
leant over the fair Penelope (such was her classical
and not inappropriate name) while she was singing,
and over her sofa afterwards, evidently considering
himself her legitimate proprietor for the time, and
regarding the husband, as he hovered round them, in
the light of an unauthorized intruder. The latter
would have given anything, once or twice, to have
interfered, I am sure ; but, apart from the extreme
ridicule of the thing, he was in his own house, and
as hospitable as Saladin.
It was a great scene, when, at parting, she gave
Guy the camellia that she wore at her breast ; the
Doctor gasped thrice convulsively and said no word ;
but I wonder how she accounted afterwards for the
smile and blush which answered some whispered
thanks ? There are certain limits that even the his-
torian dares not transgress ; a veil falls between the
profane and the thalamus of an LL.D. ; but, I rather
imagine, she had a hard time of it that night, the
poor little woman I Let us hope, in charity, that she
held her o^mi.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 15
When tlio Count was questioned as to the con-
versation that had passed, he declined to give any
particulars, merely remarking, that * he had to thank
Dr for a very pleasant evening, and he hoped
every one had enjoyed themselves very much,' —
which was philanthropic, to say the least of it.
I don't know if it was our imagination, but we
fancied that when the head-master called up Living-
stone, in form, after this, he did so with an air of
grave defiance, such as a duellist of the Old Eegime
may have worn, when, dofl&ng his plumed hat, he
said to his adversary, ' En garde I *
There was little time to make observations, for
shortly afterward Guy went up to Oxford; whither^
six months later, I followed him.
16
CHAPTER III.
Through many an hour of summer suns,
By many pleasant ways,
Like Hezckiah's, backward runs
The shadow of my days.
When I came up, I found Guy quite established and
at home. He was a general favourite with all the
men he knew at college, though iutimate with but
very few. There was but one individual who hated
him thoroughly, and I think the feeling was mutual
— the senior tutor, a flaccid being, vdth a hand that
felt like a fish two days out of water, a large nose,
and a perpetual cold in his head. He consistently
and impartially disbelieved every one on their word,
requiring material proof of each assertion ; an original
mode of acquiring the confidence of his pupils, and
precluding anything like an attempt at deception on
their part. I remember well a discussion on his
merits that took place in the porter's lodge one night
just after twelve. When several had given their
opinions, more or less strongly, some one asked the
gate-ward what he thought of the individual in
question, to which that eminent functionary thus
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 17
replied — * Why, you see, sir, I'm only a servant, and,
as such, can't speak freely ; but I wish he was dead,
I do.'
As I have said, Livingstone disliked Selkii-k
heartily, and did not take the trouble to conceal it.
He used to look at him sometimes with a curious
expression in his eyes, which made the tutor twiil
and writhe uncomfortably in his chair. The latter
annoyed him as much as he possibly could, but Guy
held on the even tenor of' his way ; seldom con-
travening the statutes, except in hunting three days
a week, which he persisted in doing all lectures and
regulations notwithstanding. He rode little imder
fourteen stone, even then; but the three horses he
kept were well up to his weight, and he stood A 1
in Jem Hill's estimation, as * the best heav}^- weight
that had come out of Oxford for many a day ; ' for
he not only went straight as a die, but rode to hounds
instead of over them. I suppose this latter practice
is inherent in University sportsmen. I know, in my
time, the way in which they pressed on hounds for
the first two fields out of cover, or after a check, used
to make the grey hairs, which were the brave old
huntsman's crown of glory, stand on end with in-
dignation and terror ; so that he prayed devoutly for
a big fence which, like the broken bridge at Leipsic,
might prove a stopper to the pursuing army. . TheiX5
was the making of a good rider .in many of them,
18 GTJY LIVINGSTONE.
too ; they only wanted ballast, for they knew no
more of fear than Nelson did, and would grind over
the Yale of the Evenlode and the Marsh Gibbon
double timber as gaily and undauntedly as over the
accommodating Bullingdon hurdles. And what
screws they rode ! ancient animals bearing as many
scars as a vicux de la vieille, that were considered
short of work if they did not come out five days a
fortnight. This was Guy's favourite pursuit ; but
he threw off the superfluity of his animal energies in
all sorts of athletics ; in sparring especially he attain-
ed a rare excellence ; so well known was it indeed,
that he passed his first year without striking a blow
in anger, through default of an antagonist, except a
chance one or two exchanged in the m^Iee which is
imperative on the fifth of November.
I did not hunt much myself, for my health was
far from strongs and I confess my University recol-
lections are not lively.
After the first flush of novelty had worn off, they
bored one intensely — those large wines and suppers
where, night by night, a score of Nephelegeretae sat
shrouded in smoke; chanting the same equivocal
ditties ; drinking the same "fiery liquors miscalled the
juice of the grape, villanous enough to make the
patriarch that planted the vine stir remorsefully in his
grave under Ararat — each man all the while talking
* shop,' a Voutrance. The skeleton of ennui sat at
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 19
these dreary feasts ; and it was not even crowned with
roses. I often used to wondor what the majority of
my contemporaries conversed about, when in the
bosom of their families, during the 'long.* They
couldn't always have been inflicting Oxford on their
miserable relatives : the weakest of human natures
would have revolted against such tyranny : and yet
the horizon of their ideas seemed as utterly bounded
by Bagley and Headington Hill, as if the great
ocean stream had flowed outside those limits. Some
adventurous spirits, it is true, stretched away as far
as Woodstock and Abingdon; but I doubt if they
returned much improved by the grand tour.
One of their most remarkable characteristics was
the invincible terror and repugnance that they ap-
peared to entertain to the society of women of their
own class. When the visitation was inevitable, it is
impossible to describe the great horror that fell on
these "/Unfortunate boys. The feeling of Zanoni's
pupil, as the Watcher on the Threshold came float-
ing and creeping towards him, was nothing to it.
For example, at Commemoration — to which festival
' lions ' from all quarters of the earth resorted in vast
droves — when one of this class was hard hit by the
charms of some fair stranger, he never thought of
expressing his admiration otherwise than by piteous
looks, directed at her from an immense distance, out
of shot for an opera-glass ; when in her immediate
20 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
vicinity Lis motto was that of tlie Breton baron —
mourir muet. Claret-cup flowed and cliampagne
sparkled, powerless to raise him to the audacity of an
avowal. Under the woods of Nuneham, in the gar-
dens of Blenheim, amidst the crowd of the Com-
memoration ball, the same deep river of diffidence
flowed between him and his happiness. My own idea
is that, after all was over, the silent ones, like Jaques'
stricken deer, used to ' go weep,' over chances lost
and opportunities neglected. With waitresses at
way-side inns, et id genus omne, they were tolerably
self-possessed and reliant; though even there a
* thousand might well be stopped by three,' and I
would have backed an intelligent barmaid against
the field at odds : indeed, I think I have seen a
security nearly allied to contempt on the fine features
of a certain *lone star/ as she parried — so easily.
— the compliments and repartees of a dozen assail «
ants at once, accounted, in their own quadrangles,
Millamours of the darkest dye.
Guy accoimted for this unfortunate peculiarity by
saying that a cigar in the mouth was the normal
state of many of these men ; so that, when circum-
stances debarred them from the Havannah courage,
they lost all presence of mind, and, being unable to
retreat under cover of the smoke, lapsed instantly
into a sullen despair, suffering themselves to be
shot down imresistingly. Perhaps some future
GUY LIVIKGSTONE. 21
philosoplier will favour us with a better solution to
this important problem in physics : I know of none.
After all, the reading men did best, though we did
not think so then, when we saw them creeping into
morning chapel jaded and heavy-eyed, after a debauch
over Herodotus or the Stagyrite. They had a pur-
pose in view, at all events, and, I believe, were
placidly content during the progress of its attain-
ment — in the Seventh Heaven, when their hopes
were crowned by a First, or even a Second. True ;
the pace was too good for some of the half-bred ones,
and such as could not stand the training, who de-
parted, to fade away rapidly in the old house at home,
or to pine, slowly but very surely, in remote curacies.
Some of these, I fancy, must have sympathized
wdth Madame de StaeFs consumptive niece, who
answered to the question, * Why she was weeping all
alone?' — ^ Je me regrette.* When, resting in their
daily walk, shortened till it became a toil to reach the
shady seat under the elms at the garden's end, they
watched the stalwart ploughmen and di*overs go
striding by, wdthout a trouble behind their tanned
foreheads, except the thought that wages might fall a
shilling^a week — was there no envy, I wonder, as they
looked down on the wan hands lying so listless across
then* knees ? Would they not have given their First,
and their fellowship in embryo to boot, to have had
the morning appetite of Tom Chauntrell, the horse-
22 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
breaker, after twelve pipes over-niglit with gin-and-
water to match, or to have been able, like Joe Sprin-
gett, the under-keeper, to breast the steepest brae in
Cumberland with never a sob or a painful breath ?
Did they never murmur while thinking how brightly
the blade might have flashed, how deftly have been
wielded, if the worthless scabbard had only lasted
out till, on some grand field-day, the word was given
— * Draw swords ! ' ? Some felt this, doubtless ; but
the most part, I imagine, were possessed with a com-
fortable assurance, that their short life had been use-
ful if not ornamental; and so, to a certain extent,
they had their reward. At any rate, their ending
was to the full as glorious as that of • some other
friends of ours, who crawl away from the battle-
ground of the Viveurs to die, or to linger on helpless
hypochondriacs.
If I have spoken depreciatingly or unfairly of the
mass of my college coevals (and it may well be so), I
do full justice, in thought at least, to some brilliant
exceptions. I founded friendships there which, I
trust, will outlive me.
I do not forget Warrenne, too good for the men
he lived with, a David in our camp of Kedar — always
going on straight in the path he thought right,
though ever and anon his hot Irish blood would chafe
fiercely under the curb self-imposed ; and labounng
incessantly, with aU gentleness, to induce others to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 23
follow ; a Launcelot in his devotion to womankind ;
a Gralahad in pm*ity of thought and purpose. I have
never known a man of the worlds so single-hearted,
or a saint with, so much savoir vivre.
I see before me now, Lovell, with Lis frank look
and cheery laugh, the model of a stalwart English,
squirehood : and Petre, equal to either fortune ; in
reverse or success calm and impassible as Athos the
mousquetaire ; regarding money simply as a circu-
lating medium, with the profoundest contempt for
its actual value — se ruinant en prince. He edified us
greatly, on one occasion, by meeting his justly offend-
ed father with, a stern politeness; declining^ to, hold
any, communication with him by word or letter, till
he (the sire) ' could express himself in a more Chris-
tian spirit.*
Then there was Barlowe, the peark of gentlemen-
riders ; the very apple of Charles Symond's eye ; un-
spoiled by a hundred triumphs, and never degenerat-
ing into the professional, though, I believe, his idea
of earthly feKcity was —
A match, for £50, lOst. 71b. eacb. Owners up.
Over 4 nules of a fair hunting country.
I see him too, with his pleasant face, round, rosy,
and beardless as a child- cherub of Rubens, tempting
pale men with splitting heads to throw boots at him
in the bitterness of, their envy, as he entered their
rooms on the morning after a heavy drink ; his eyes
c
24 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
60 clear and guileless that you would never guess
lio\^ sharp they could be at times when a dangerous
horse was coming up on his quarter. A strange
compound his character was, of cool calculation and
sentimental simplicity. The most astute of trainers
never got the better of him in making a match ; and,
I am sure, to this day, he believes in 's poetry,
and in the immutability of feminine affection.
How agreeable he was about the small hours,
chirping over his grog ; alternating between remin-
iscences of 'My tutor's daughter,* and recitals of
choice morsels in verse and prose, misquoting, to the
utter annihilation of rhythm and sense, but aU with
perfect gravity, good faith, and satisfaction.
Nee ley memorande, relinquam — true Tom Lynton I
— ^not clever, not even high bred, but loved by every
one for the honestest and kindest heart that ever was
the kernel of a rough rind.
Do we not remember that supper where the Fa-
thers of England were being discussed ? Every one,
drawn on by the current, had a stone to throw at
his relieving officer ; the complaint, of course, being
a general tightness in the supplies. At last, Tom,
who, though his own sire was an austere man, could
not bear to hear the absent run down, broke in,
gravely remonstrating —
* WeU, gentlemen,' he said, * remember they're our
fellow-creatures, at all events.'
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 25
They drank ' Lynton and the Governors/ with a
compound midtiplication of cheers.
I might mention more ; but a face rises just now
before me, which makes me close the muster-roll —
the face of one who united in himself many, very
many of the best qualities of others ; of one whom I
shrink from naming here, lest it should seem that I
do so lightly — a face that I saw six hours before its
features became set for ever.
26
CEAPTER IV.
Ai) TOT* avaaxonkvu), 6 fihv -ijXaae St^iou a»/xov.
'Ipoc, 6 d' avxU' tkaaatv vtt' ovaTog, boTta S' uaut
''E.OXaaiv' avTiKa d' ijXOtv avd OTOfia <po'iviov aTfta.
Towards the end of my second year an event came
off in wliich we were all much, interested — a steeple-
cliase in wLich. both Universities were to take part.
The stakes were worth winning — twenty so vs. en-
trance, h. f., and a hundi-ed sovs. added ; besides, the
esprit de corps was strong, and men backed their
opinions pretty freely. The venue was fixed at B ;
the time, the beginning of the Easter vacation,
f The old town was crowded Hke Vanity Fair. There
was a railway in progress near, and the navvies and
other ' roughs ' came flocking in by hundreds ; so
that the municipal authorities, justly apprehensive of
a row, concentrated the cohorts of their police, and
swore in no end of specials as a reserve.
The great event came off duly ; a fair instance of
the 'glorious uncertainty' which backers of horses
execrate and ring-men adore. All the favourites
were out of the race early. Our best man, Barlowe,
the centre of many hopes, and carrying a heavy in-
GUY LIVINGSTONB 27
vestment of Oxford money, was floored at the second
double post-and-rail. The Cambridge cracks, too,
by divers casualties, were soon disposed of. At the
last fence, an Oxford man was leading by sixty yards ;
but it was his maiden race, and he lost his head
when he found himself looking like a winner so near
home. Instead of taking the stake-and-bound at the
weakest place, he rode at the strongest ; his horse
swerved to the gap, took the fence sideways, and
came down heavily into the ditch of the winning
field. The representative of Cambridge, who came
next, riding a good steady hunter, not fast but safe
at his fences, cantered in by himself. I remember
he was so bewildered by his unexpected victory, that
one of his backers had to hold him fast in the saddle,
or he would have dismounted before riding to scale,
and so lost the stakes.
Well, the race was over and the laurels lost, so we
had nothing to do but pay and look pleasant, and then
adjourn to the inevitable banquet at *The George.*
There was little to distinguish the proceedings from
the routine of such festivals. The winners stood
champagne, and the losers drank it — to any amount.
The accidents of flood and field were discussed over
and over again; and, I believe, every man of the
twenty-three who had ridden that day could and did
prove, to his own entire satisfaction, that he must
have won but for some freak of fortune totally un-
28 CiU7 LIVING8T0NK.
avoidable, and defying human calculation. About
nine o'clock I went out with another man to get
some fresh air, and something I wanted in the town.
At the corner of every street there was a group of
heavy, sullen faces, looking viciously ready for a row ;
while out of the windows of the frequent public-
houses gushed bursts of revelry hideously discordant,
from the low-browed rooms where the wild Irish sat
howling and wrangling over their liquor. However,
wc got what we wanted, and were returning, when,
in a street on our left, we heard cries and a tramp-
ling of many feet. Two figures, looking like Uni-
versity men, passed us at speed, and throwing some-
thing down before us, dived into an alley opposite,
and were lost to sight. My companion picked up the
object ; and we had just time to make out that it was
a bell-handle and name-plate, when the pursuers
came up — six or seven * peelers ' and specials, with a
ruck of men and boys. We were collared on the in-
stant. The fact of the property being found in our
possession constituted a flagraiis delictum — we were
caught * red-handed.' It was vain to argue that,
had we been the delinquents, we should scarcely have
been standing there still, awaiting discovery. The
idea of arguing with a rural policeman, when, by a
rare coincidence, popular feeling is with him ! The
mob regarded our capture, exulting Hke the Romans
over Jugurtha in chains. It was decided ^ we were
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 29
to go before the Inspector.* We were placed in the
centre of a phalanx of specials, each guarded by two
regulars ; and so the triumph, followed by a train
that swelled at every turning, moved slowly along
the Sacred Way towards the temple of the station-
house, where the municipal Jupiter Capitolinus sat
in his glory.
Before we had proceeded three hundred yards, thero
was a shout from the crowd, * Look out ! here come
the Warsity ! * and, down across street leading from
the inn, two hundred gownsmen, wild with wrath
and wassail, came leaping to the rescue.
In the van of all I caught sight of two figures —
one that I knew very well, towering, bare-headed, a
hand's-breadth above the throng ; the other, some-
thing below the middle height, but shaggy, vast-
chested, and double-jointed as a red Highland steer
— McDiarmid of Trinity, glory of the Cambridge
gymnasium, and ' 5 ' in the University eight. They
were not scouting like the rest, but hitting out
straight and remorselessly ; and before these two
strong Promachi, townsman and navvy, peeler and
special, went down Kke blades of corn. Close at their
shoulder I distinguished Lovell, his clear blue eyes
lightening savagely ; and stout Tom Lynton, a deeper
flush on his honest face, hewing away with all the
unscientific strength of his nervous arm.
But my two guards, very Abdiels in their duty
30 GUY LHTJ^G STONE.
never let me go : on the contrary, one tightened his
gripe on. my throat suffocatingly ; while the other,
though I remained perfectly quiescent, kept gi^Hlng
me gentle hints to keep the peace, with the end of
his staff. I was getting sick and dizzy, when some-
thing passed my check lilce the wind of a ball ; there
was a dull crashing sound close at my ear ; the grasp
on my neck relaxed all at once; I felt something
across my feet, and saw a dark-blue mass, topped by
the ruin of a shiny hat, lying there quite still ; an
arm was round my waist like the coil of a cable, and
I heard Guy's voice laughing loud —
* My dear Frank ! ' he said, as he dragged me away
towards the inn; * the. centre of a row, as usual!
Que diahle allait-il /aire dans cette hagarre ?*
I hardly heard him, for my senses were still con-
fused : but in thirty seconds I was under the arch-
way of * The George.* As the heroines of the Ead-
cUffe romances say, * I turned to thank my preserver,
but he was gone.'
When I recovered my breath, I went up to a bal
cony on the first floor and looked out. The tide oi
the affi-ay was surging gradually back into the wide
open space before the inn, and very shortly this was
filled with a chaos of furious faces and struggling
arms. The University were evidently recoiling, press-,
ed back by the sheer weight of their opponents ; but
soon came a reioforcement of grooms and stable-men,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 31
light- weights, active and wiry ; and these, with their
hunting-crops and heavy cutting-whips used re-
morselessly — like Caesar^s legionaries, they struck
only at the face — once more re-established the balance
of the battle.
Suddenly the m^lie seemed to converge to one
point — the mid- eddy, as it were, of the whirlpool ;
then came a lull, almost a hush ; and then fifty strong
arms, indiscriminately of town and gownsmen, were
locked to keep the ground, while a storm of voices
shouted for * A ring ! '
In that impromptu arena two men stood face to
face, under the full glare of the gas-lamps — one was
Guy Livingstone : the other a denizen of the Pot-
teries, yclept * Burn's Big *un,' who had selected
B as his training quarters, in preparation for his
fight to come off in the ensuing week, with the third-
best man in England, for £100 a side.
They made a magnificent contrast. Guy appa-
rently quite composed, but the lower part of his face
set stern and pitiless ; an evil light in his eyes, show-
ing how all the gladiator in his nature was roused ;
his left hand swaying level with his hip ; all the
weight of his body resting on the right foot; his
lofty head thrown back haughtily; his guard low.
The professional, three inches shorter than his ad-
versary, but a rare model of brute strength ; his arms
and neck, where the short jersey left them exposed,
32 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
clear-skinned and white as a woman's, through the
perfection of his training; his hair cropped close
round a low retreating forehead ; his thick lips part-
ed in a savage grin, meant to represent a smile of
confidence. So they stood there — fitting champions
of the races that have been antagonistic for four
thousand years — Patrician and Proletarian.
Suddenly there was a commotion at one corner of
the ring, and I saw a small bullet-headed man, with
a voice like a fractious child, striving fanatically to
force his way through. * Don't let 'em fight ! ' — ho
screamed out — ' It's robbery, I tell you. There's hund-
reds of pounds on him for Thursday next. I'm his train-
er ; and I daren't show him with a scratch on him ! *
A great roar of laughter answered his entreaties,
and twenty arms thrust the little man back ; but his
interesting charge seemed to ponder and hesitate,
when a drawling, nasal voice spoke from the opposite
corner — *Ah, you're right; take him away; don't
show his white feather till you're druv to it.* That
turned the wavering scale. The Big 'un ground his
teeth with a blasphemy, and set to.
I need not go through the minutiae of the fight : it
was aU one way. The professional did his best, and
took his pimishment Hke a glutton ; but he could do
nothing against the long reach of his adversary, who
stopped and countered as cooUy as if he had only the
gloves on.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 33
It was the beginning of the sixth round; our
champion bore only one mark, showing where a
tremendous right-hander had almost come home — a
cut on his lower lip, whence the bright Norman
blood was ilowing freely. I will not try to describe
the hideous changes that ten minutes had wrought
in his opponent's countenance ; but I think I was
not the only spectator who felt a thrill of fear ming-
ling with disgust, as the Big 'un made his despair-
ing effort, and fought his way in to the terrible * half-
arm rally/ In truth, there was something unearthly
and awful in the sight of the maimed and mangled
Colossus ; his huge breast heaving with wrath and
pain; his one unblinded eye glaring unutterably;
his crushed lips churniug the crimson foam. It was
the last rush of the Cordovan bull goaded to madness
by picador and chulo : but Guy's fatal left met him,
straight, unjdelding as the blade of the matador;
twice he reeled back well-nigh stunned; the third
time he dropped his head cleverly so as to avoid the
blow, and grappled. For some seconds the two were
locked together, undistinguishably ; then we saw
Guy's right hand, never used till then, save as a
guard, rise and fall twice, with a dull, smashing
sound, which was bad to hear ; then the huge form
of the prize-fighter was whirled up unresistingly
over his antagonist's hip, and fell crashing down at
his feet, a heap of blind, senseless, bleeding humanity.
34 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
* Time ! ' You must call louder yet, before lie will
hear, and lance a vein in tlie throat before be will
answer.
Then, in the old market-place of B , there
went up such a shout, as I think it has never heard
since Vikings and Berserkyr caroused there after
storming the town. The gownsmen, as they will do
on slighter provocation, screamed themselves hoarse
and voiceless with delight ; and their late opponents
— the honest Saxon's love of a fair fight overcoming
the spirit of the partisan — echoed and prolonged the
cheer.
There was no more thought of battle or broil ; and
there were as many navvies as University men among
the enthusiasts, who bore the champion on their
shoulders into * The George.'
How we revelled on that night of victory ! espe-
cially when Guy, after the necessary ablutions and
change of raiment, joined us, calm and self-possessed
as ever; only slightly swelled about the lower lip,
and a dark red flush on his forehead. He had satis-
factory accounts of his adversary ; — the said amiable
individual having so far recovered, imder the sur-
geon's hands, as to swear thrice — ' quite like hisself,*
the messenger said — and to call for cold brandy-and-
water.
Livingstone's health was proposed twice, — the fii'st
time by a fellow of King's, with a neat talent for
GUY LI\aNG STONE. 35
classical allusions, who remarked that, ' if the olive-
crown of the hippodrome had fallen to the lot of
Cambridge, none would deny her sister's claim to the
parsley of the Caestus.* The second time was very
late in the evening, by McDiarmid. It must be con-
fessed that gallant chieftain was somewhat incoherent,
and amidst protestations of admiration and eternal
friendship, much to our astonishment, wept profusely.
Still later, he got very maudlin indeed, and was
heard to murmur, looking at his scarred knuckles,
that *he was afraid he must have hurt some one that
night.,* with an accent of heartfelt sorrow and con-
trition which was inimitable.
We heard afterwards that the taunt which made
the fight a certainty came from the commissioner of
the party who stood heavily against the Big \m, sent
down to watch him in his training, and spy out the
joints in his harness.
86
CHAPTER V.
As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bovr,
Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow ;
But the young Plants of Grace they looked couthie and slee,
Saying — 'Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee.'
In the autumn of tliat year my chest became so
troublesome that I was obliged to try Italy. Thither
I went ; and, about the same time, Guy was gazetted
to the Life Guards. The struggle between
climate and constitution was protracted, and for a
long time doubtful; but winters without fog, and
springs without cold winds, worked wonders, and at
last carried the day. In the fourth year they told
me I might risk England again. Moving home-
w^ard slowly, I reached London about the beginning
of December ; a most unfavourable season, it is true ;
but 1 was weary of foreign wandering, and wanted
to spend Christmas somewhere in the Fatherland;
though where I had not yet determined.
I had heard tolerably often from Livingstone
during my absence. His letters were very amusing ;
containing all sorts of news, and remarks on men and
manners Thoy would have pleased to.?, more if they
GirV LIVINGSTONE. 37
had not indicated a vein of sarcasm, deepening into
cynicism.
I stand very much alone in this world, and had
few family visits to detain me ; so on the morning
after my arrival I went down to the Knightsbridge
barracks, where Guy's regiment happened to be
quartered.
It was a field-day — his servant said — and his mas-
ter was out with his troop ; but he expected him in
very shortly. Captain Forrester was waiting break-
fast for him upstairs.
As I entered the room, its occupant turned his
head languidly on the sofa- cushion which supported
it ; but when he saw it was a stranger, sat up, and, on
hearing my name, actually rose and came towards me.
* Livingstone will be charmed to find you here, Mr
Hammond,' he said, in a voice that, though slightly
affected and trainanie, was very musical. * I don't
know if he ever mentioned Charley Forrester to you,
who must do the honours of the barrack-room in his
absence ?'
I had heard of him very often ; and, though my
expectations as to his personal appearance had been
raised, I own the first glance did not disappoint them,
lie was about three- and- twenty then, rather tall, but
very sKghtly built ; his eyes long, sleepy, of a violet-
blue ; features small and delicately cut, with a com-
plexion so soft and bright, that his silky, chestnut
38 GUY LIVINGSTON^.
moustaclie hardly saved the face from efFeminacy ; his
hands and feet would have satisfied the Pacha of
Tebelin at once as to his purity of race ; indeed,
though Charley was not disposed to undervalue any
of his own bodily advantages, I imagine he consider-
ed his extremities as his strong point. His manner
was very fascinating, and, with women, had a sort of
caress in it which is hard to describe, though even
with them he seldom excited himself much, preferring,
consistently, the passive to the active part in the con-
versation. Indeed, his golden rule was the Arabic
maxim, Agitel il Shaitan — HuiTy is the Devil's — so,
in the flirtations which were the serious business of
his life, he always let his fish hook themselves, just
exerting himseK enough to play them afterwards.
In ten minutes we were very good friends, talking
pleasantly of all sorts of things, though Forrester
had resumed his recumbent posture, and I could not
help fearing it w^as only a strong effort of politeness
or sense of duty which enabled him always to answer
at the right time.
Before long we heard the clatter of horses' hoofs
and the rattle of steel scabbards, and I looked out at
the squadrons defiling into the barrack-yard. My eye
fell upon Livingstone at once ; it was not difficidt to
distinguish him, for few, if any, among those troopers
picked from the flower of all the counties north of the
Humber, could compare with him for length of limb
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 39
and breadth, of shoulder. I felt proud of him, as the
hero of my boyhood, looking at him there, on his
great black charger, square and steadfast as the keep
of a castle.
His servant spoke to him as he dismounted. I saw
his features soften and brighten in an instant ; in five
seconds he was in the room, and the light was on his
face still — I like to think of it — the Kght of a frank,
cordial welcome, as he griped my hand.
He was changed, certainly, but for the better. The
featui'cs, which in early youth had been too rugged
and strongly marked, harmonized perfectly with the
vast proportions of a frame now fully developed,
though still lean in the flanks as a wolf-hound. The
stern expression about his mouth was more decided
and unvarying than ever — an effect which was in-
creased by the heavy moustache that, dense as a
cuirassier's of the Old Guard, fell over his lip in a
black cascade. It was the face of one of those stone
Crusaders who look up at us from their couches in
the Round Church of the Temple.
Before our first sentences were concluded, Forres-
ter had nerved himself to the effort of rising, and
turned to go.
* You must have fifty things to say to each other,*
he said. * You'll find me in the mess-room. But,
Guy, don't be long — I've no appetite myself this
morning, and it will refresh me to see you eat your
40 GUY LIVn^GSTONE.
breakfast;* and so faded away gradually through
the door.
* How do you like him ? ' Livingstone called out
from the inner room, where he was donning the
* mufti.' * He's not so conceited as he might be, con-
sidering how the women spoil him ; and, lazy as he
looks, he is a very fair officer, and goes across coun-
try like a bird. Did I ever tell you what first made
him famous ? *
* !No ; I should like to hear.*
* Well, it was at a picnic at Cliefden. Charley
was hardly nineteen then, and had just joined the
' — th Lancers at Hounslow ; he wandered away, and
got lost with Kate Harcourt, a self-possessed beauty
in high condition for flu-tiug, for she had had three
seasons of hard training. When they had been away
from their party about two hours, she felt, or pre-
tended to feel, the awkwardness of the situation, and
asked her cavalier, in a charmingly helpless and con-
fiding way, what they were to do ? * Well, I hardly
know,* Forrester answered, languidly ; * but I don't
mind proposing to you, if that will do you any good.*
A fair performance for an untried colt, was it not ?
Miss Harcourt thought so, and said so, and Charley
woke next morning with an established renown.
Shall we go and find him ? '
After breakfast we went with Guy to his room, to
do the regulation cigar,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 41
*I know you've made no plans, Frank/ Living-
stone said, * so I have settled everything for you
already. You are coming down to Kerton with us.
"We have just got our long leave, and our horses
went down three days ago.*
* It's very nice of him to say " our horses," ' in-
terrupted Forrester. * Mine consist of one young
one, that has been over about eight fences in his life,
and a mare, that I call the "Wandering Jewess, for I
don't think she will ever die, and I am sure she will
never rest till she does ; what with being park-hack
in the summer and cover-hack in the winter, with a
bye-day now and then when the country's light,
she's the best instance of perpetual motion I know.
"Well, it's not my fault, the Chief won't let us hunt
our second chargers — that's the charm of being in a
crack regiment — I always have one lame at least,
and no one will sell me hunters on tick.'
* Don't be so plaintive, Charley ; you've nearly all
mine to ride — it's a treat to them, poor things ! to
feel your light weight and hand, after carrying my
enormous carcase. That's settled, then, Frank ; you
come with us ?' Guy said.
' I shall be very glad. I only want a day to get
my traps together.'' So two days afterwards we three
came down to Kerton Manor. It was not my first
visit to Livingstone's home, but I have not described
it before.
42 atr Livingstone.
Fancy a very large, low house, built in two quad-
rangles — the offices and stables forming the smaller
one furthermost from the main entrance — of the light
grey stone common in Northamptonshire, darkened
at the angles and buttresses into purple, and green,
and bistre, by the storms of three hundred years;
on the south side, smooth turf, with islands in it of
bright flower-beds, sloped down to a broad, slow
stream, where grave stately swans were always sailing
to and fro, and moor-hens diving among the rushes ;
on the other sides, a park, extensive, but somewhat
rough-looking, stretched away, and, all round, lines
of tall avenue radiated — the bones of a dead-giant's
skeleton — for Kerton once stood in the centre of a
Royal Forest.
You entered into a wide low hall, the oak ceiling
resting on broad square pillars of the same dark wood :
all round hung countless memorials of chase and war,
for the Livingstones had been hunters and soldiers
beyond the memory of man.
Often, passing through of a winter^s evening, I
have stopped to watch the fitful effects of the great
logs burning on the andirons, as their light died
away, deadened among brown bear-skins and shadowy
antlers, or played, redly reflected, on the mail-shirt
and corselet of crusader or cavalier.
There were many portraits, too ; one, the most re-
markable, fronted you as you came through the great
GtJY LmNGSTONfi. 43
doorway, the likeness of a very handsome man in the
uniform of a Light Dragoon ; imder this hiing a
cavalry sword, and a brass helmet shaded with black
horsehair. The portrait and sword were those of
Guy's father ; the helmet belonged to the cuirassier
who slew him.
It was in a skirmish with part of Kellermann's
brigade, near the end of the Peninsular war ; Colonel
Livingstone was engaged with an adversary in his
front, when a trooper, delivering point from behind,
ran him through the body. He had got his death
woimd, and knew it ; but he came of a race that ever
died hard and dangerously ; he only ground his teeth,
and, turning short in his saddle, cut the last assail-
ant down. Look at the helmet, with the clean even
gap in it, cloven down to the cheek strap — the stout
old Laird of Colonsay struck no fairer blow.
It was curious to mark how the same expression of
sternness and decision about the lips and lower part
of the face, which was so remarkable in their descend-
ants, ran through the long row of ancestral portraits.
You saw it — now, beneath the half-raised visor of
Sir Malise, surnamed Poing-cle-fery who went up the
breach at Ascalon, shoulder to shoulder with strong
King Richard — now, yet more grimly shadowed forth,
imder the cowl of Prior Bernard, the ambitious
ascetic, whom, they say, the great Earl of Warwick
trusted as his own right hand — now, softened a little,
44 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
but still distinctly visible, under the long love-locks
of Prince Rupert's aide-de-camp, who died at Naseby
manfully in bis barness — now, contrasting strangely
witb tbe elaborately powdered peruke and deUcate
lace ruffles of Beau Livingstone, tbe gallant, witb tbe
wbitest band, tbe softest voice, tbe neatest knack at
a sonnet, and tbe deadliest rapier, at tbe court of
good Queen Anne. Nay, you could trace it in tbe
features of many a fair Editb and Alice, balf coim-
teracting tbe magnetic attraction of tbeir melting
eyes.
On tbe sunny soutb-side, looking across tbe flower-
garden, were Lady Catberine Livingstone's rooms,
wbere, diligent as Matilda and ber maidens, in simi-
mer by tbe wiudow, in winter by tbe fire, tbe pale
cbatelaiue sat over ber embroidery. Wbat rivers of
tapestry must bave flowed from under tbose slender
wbite fingers during tbeir ceaseless toil of twenty
years !
Tbe good tbat .sbe did in ber neigbbourbood cannot
be told ; sbe was kind and bospitable, too, to ber
female guests, in ber own baugbty, undemonstrative
way ; nevertbeless, tbe wives and daughters of tbe
squirearchy regarded ber witb great awe and fear.
Perhaps sbe felt this, though sbe could not alter it,
and tbe sense of isolation may bave deepened tbe
shades on her sad face. She bad only one thing on
earth to centre ber afiections on, and tbat one sbe
GITY LIVINGSTONE. 45
worshipped with a love stronger than her sense of
duty, for, since his father died, she had never been
able to check Guy in a single whim.
When he had a hunting-party in the house, she
sometimes would not appear for days ; but, however
early he might start for the meet, I do not think he
ever left his dressing-room without his mother's kiss
on his cheek. She knew, as well as any one, how
recklessly her son rode; nothing but his science,
coolness, and great strength in the saddle, could
often have saved him from some terrible accident.
Many times, in the middle of the day's sport, the
thought has come across me piteously, of that poor
lady in her lonely rooms, trembling, and I am very
sure praying, for her darling.
On the opposite side of the court were Guy's own
apartments ; first, what was called by courtesy his
study — an armoury of guns and other weapons, a
chaos e rebus oinnihus et quibusdam aliis, for he never
had the faintest conception of the beauty of order ;
then came the smoking-room, with its great divans
and scattered card-tables; then Livingstone's bed-
room and dressing-room.
Did the distance and the doors always deaden the
sounds of late revels, so as not to break Lady Cathe-
rine's slumbers ? I fear not.
46
CHAPTER VI.
Thou art not steeped in golden languors ;
No Iranoed summer calm is thine,
Ever-varying Madeline.
It was a woodland meet, a long way off, tlie morning
after we arrived, so we stayed at home; and, after
breakfast, Guy having to give audience to keepers
and other retainers, I strolled out with Forrester to
smoke in the stables. I have seldom seen a lot which
united so perfectly bone and blood. Livingstone
gave any price for his horses ; the only thing he was
not particular about was their temper; more than
one looked eminently unsuited to a nervous rider,
and a swinging bar behind them warned the stranger
against incautious approach.
After duly discussing and admiruig the stud, we
established ourselves on the sunniest stone bench in
the garden ; and I asked my companion to tell me
something of what Guy had been doing during my
absence.
* Well, it's rather hard to say,' answered Charley.
' He never takes the trouble to conceal anything ; but
then, you see, he never tells one anything, either ; so
otrr LiviKGSTONfi. 47
it's only guess work, after all. He lives very much
like other men' in the Household Brigade ; plays
heavily, though not regularly ; but he always has two
affaires de cxuVf at least, on hand at once ; that's
his stint/
*So he still persecutes the weaker sex unremit-
tingly?' I asked laughing.
*In a way peculiar to himself,' said Forrester; 'he
is always strictly cautious, but decidedly sarcastic.
Poor things ! they are easily imposed upon ; he very
soon has them well in hand, and they never can get
their heads up afterwards. I suppose they like it, for
it seems to answer admirably. Last season he divided
himself pretty equally between Constance Brandon
and Flora Bellasj^s — quite the two best things out,
though as opposite to each other in every way as the
poles. To do Miss Brandon justice, I don't think
she knew much of the other flirtation ; she always
went away early, and he used to take up her rival
for the Test of the evening.'
* But the said rival — how did she Hke the divided
homage ? '
* Kot at all at first ; at least, she used to look
revolvers at Guy from time to time — (ah, you should
see the Bellasys' eyes when they begin to lighten) —
but he always brought her back to the lure, and at
last she seemed to take it quite as a matter of course ;
keepiDg all her after-supper waltzes for him re-
48 GITY LIVINGSTONE.
ligiously, though half the men in town were trying
to cut in. I can't make out how he does it. Do
you think his size and sinews can have anything to
do with it?* He said this gravely and reflectively.
' Not unlikely/ I replied ; * the for titer in re goes
a long way with women apparently, even where there
is not a tongue like his to back it. Don't you re-
member Juvenal's strong-minded heroine, who left
husband and home to follow the scarred, maimed
gladiator ? I doubt if the Mirmillo was a pleasant or
intellectual companion. Now, I want you to tell me
something about Guy's cousin and her father ; they
are coming to-day, I hear, and I have never met them.'
* Mr Ra^Tnond is very like most calm, comfortable
old men with a life interest in £2000 a year,' Charley
said ; * rather more cold and impassible than the
generality, perhaps. He must be clever, for he plays
whist better than any one I know ; but not brilliant,
certainly. His daughter is' — the colour deepened
on his cheek perceptibly — ' very charming, most peo-
ple tliink ; but I hate describing people. I always
caricature the likeness. You'll form your own judg-
ment at dinner. Shall we go in ? We shoot an out-
lying cover after luncheon, and the blackthorns in-
volve gaiters.*
We had very fair sport, and were returning across
the park, picking up a stray rabbit every now and then
in the tufts of long grass and patches of brake. One
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 49
had just started before Forrester, and lie was in the
act of pulling the trigger, when Livingstone said
suddenly —
'There's my uncle's carriage coming down the
north avenue.'
It was an easy shot in the open, but Charley missed
it clean.
* What eyes you have, Guy ! ' he said, pettishly ;
' but I wish you w^ouldn't speak to a man on his shot.'
Guy's great Lancaster rang out with the roar of a
small field-piece, and the rabbit was rolling over, rid-
dled through the head, before he answered —
* Yes, my eyes are good, and I see a good many
things, but I donH see why you should have muffed
that shot, particularly as my intelligence was meant
for the world in general, and it was not such an
astounding remark after all.'
Charley did not seem ready with a reply, so he
retained his look of injured innocence, and walked on,
sucking silently at his cigar. The E/aymonds reach-
ed the house before us ; but not being in a present-
able state, I did not see them before dinner.
Forrester was right ; there was nothing startling
about Mr Eaymond. He had one of those thin high-
bred looking faces that one always fancies would have
suited admirably the powder and ruffles of the last
century. It expressed little, except perfect repose ;
and when he spoke, which was but seldom, no addi-
50 GtJY LIVINGSTON^.
tional liglit came into his hard blue eyes. His daugh-
ter was his absolute contrast — a lovely delicate little
creature, with silky dark-brown hair, and eyes eii
suite, and colour that deepened and faded twenty
times in an hour, without ever losing the softness of
its tints. She had the ways of a child petted all its
life through, that a harsh word would frighten to
annihilation. She seemed very fond of Guy, though
evidently rather afraid of him at times.
Nothing passed at dinner worth mentioning ; but
soon after the ladies left us, Mr Ra}Tnond turned
lazily to his nephew to inquire —
* If he would mind asking Bruce to come and stay
at Kerton, as he was to be in the neighbourhood
soon after Christmas.'
lie did not seem to feel the faintest interest in the
reply.
* I shall be too glad, Uncle Henry,' answered Guy
(he did not look particularly charmed though), ' if it
will give you or Bella any pleasure. Need he be
written to immediately?'
* Thank you very much,' said Raymond, languidly.
* I know he bores you, and I am sure I don't wonder
at it ; but one must be civil to one's son-in-law that
is to be. No, you need not trouble yourself to invite
him yet. Bella can do it when she writes. I sup-
pose she does write to him sometimes.'
I looked across ths table at Forrester. This was
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 61
the first time I had heard of Miss Rajnnond's engage-
ment. He met my eye quite unconcernedly, pur-
suing with great interest his occupation of peeling
walnuts, and dropping them into sherry. It did not
often happen to him to blush tivice in the twenty-
four hours. Directly afterwards we began to talk
about pheasants and other things.
After cofiee in the drawing-room, Guy sat down to
piquet with his uncle. Rajrmond liked to utilize his
evenings, and never played for nominal stakes. He
was the heau ideal of a card-player certainly ; no re-
volution or persistence of luck could ruffle the dead
calm of his courteous face. He would win the money
of his nearest and dearest friend, or lose his own to
an utter stranger, with the same placidity. To be
sure, to a certain extent, he had enslaved Fortune :
though he always played most loyally, and some-
times would forego an advantage he might fairly
have claimed, his rare science made ultimate success
scarcely doubtful. He never touched a game of mere
chance.
I heard a good story of him in Paris. They were
playing a game like brag ; the principle being that
the players increase the stakes without seeing each
other's cards, till one refuses to go on, and throws up,
or shows his point. Ra3Tnond was left in at last with
one adversary ; the stakes had mounted up to a sum
that was fearful, and it was his choice to double or
52 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
a bat I re. Of course, it was of the last importance to
discover whether the antagonist was strong or not ;
but the Frenchman's face gave not the slightest sign.
He was beau Joiieur sHl en fut, and had lost two fair
fortunes at play. Raymond hesitated, looking steadily
into his opponent's eyes. All at once he smiled and
doubled instantly. The other dared not go on ; he
showed his point, and lost. They asked Raymond
afterwards how he could have detected any want of
confidence to guide him in a face that looked like
marble ?
* I saw three drops of perspiration on his fore-
head,' he said; *and I knew my own hand was
strong.'
Lady Catherine was resting on a sofa ; she looked
tired and paler than usual, not in the least available
for conversation. Miss Rajnnond had nestled herself
into the recesses of a huge arm-chair close to the fire
— she was as fond of warmth, when she could not
get sunshine, as a tropical bird — and Forrester was
lounging on an ottoman behind her, so that his head
almost touched her elbow. When I caught scraps of
their conversation, it seemed to be turning on the
most ordinary subjects ; but even in these I should
have felt lost — I had been so long away from Eng-
land — so I contented myself with watching them,
and wondering why discussions as to the merits
of operas and inquiries after mutual acquaintances
GUTf LIVINGSTONE. 63
should make the fair cheeks hang out signals of dis-
tress so often as they did that evening.
I lingered in the smoking-room about midnight
for a moment after Forrester left us.
* So your cousin is really engaged ?* I asked Guy.
* Tout ce qu\l y a de plus fiance^ was the answer.
* It was one of the last affairs of state that my poor
aunt concluded before she died. Bruce is a very
good match : I don't think Bella worships him,
though I have scarcely ever seen them together, and
I am sure he is not a favourite with Uncle Henry ;
but nothing on earth would make him break it off;
indeed, I know no one who would propose such a
thing to him — not his daughter, certainly. There's
no such hopeless obstacle as the passive resistance of
a thoroughly lazy man. Good night, Frank. I've
sent the Baron on for you to-morrow. We must
start about nine, mind, for we've fifteen miles to go
to cover.'
I went to bed, and dreamt that Haymond was
playing 6carte with Forrester for his daughter, who
stood by blushing beautifully — and never held a
trump !
64
cnAPTEE yii.
She has two eyes so soft and brown ;
Take care !
She gives a side glance, and looks down ;
Beware ! beware !
Trust her not ; she is fooling thee.
So the days went on. The stream of visitors usual
in a country house during the hunting season, flowed
in and out of Kerton Manor without any remarkable
specimen showing itself above the surface. One in-
dividual, perhaps, I ought to except, the curate of
the parish, who was a very constant visitor.
His appearance was not fascinating ; he had a long
narrow head, thatched with straight scanty hair,
little protruding eyes, and a complexion of a bright
imvarying red ; in fact he was very like a prawn.
It was soon evident that the Rev. Samuel Foster
was helplessly smitten by !Miss Raymond, or, as For-
rester elegantly expressed it, * hard hit in the wings,
and crippled for flying ! ' Helplessly, I say, but not
hopelessly; for that wicked little creature, acting
perhaps under private orders, gave him all sorts of
treacherous encouragement. I never saw any human
being evolve so much caloric under excitement as he
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 65
did, except one young woman whom I met ages ago
— (a most estimable person ; her Sunday-scliool was
a model) — whose only way of eyincing any emotion
either of anger, fear, pain, or pleasure was — a pro-
fuse perspiration. Mr Foster not only got awfully
hot, but electrical into the bargain. His thin hairs
used to stand out distinctly and in reKef from his
head and face, just like a person on the glass tripod.
Charley suggested insulating him unawares, and
getting a flash out of his knucldes, if not out of his
brain. In truth, it was piteous to see the struggle
between passion and nervousness that raged per-
petually within him. He would stand for some time
casting lanih^s-ejes at the object of his affections — to
the amorous audacity of the full-grown sheep he
never soared — then suddenly, without the slightest
provocation, he would discharge at her a compliment,
elaborate, long-winded, Grandisonian, as a raw re-
cruit fires his musket, shutting his eyes, and incon-
tinently take to flight, without waiting to see the
effect of his shot. If he had spent half the time and
pains on his sermons that he did on his small-talk (I
believe he used to write out three or four foul copies
of each sentence previously, at home) what a boon it
would have been to his unlucky audience on Sundaj^s I
'\\Tiy is it that the great proportion of our pastors
seem to conspire together with one consent to make
the periodical duty of listening to them as hai'd as
66 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
possible? Can they imagine there is profit or
pleasure in a discourse wandering wearily round in
a circle, or dragging a slow length along of truisms
and trivialities ? In the best of congregations there
can be but few alchemists ; and, without that science,
who is to extract the essence of Truth from the moles
in congest a of crass moralities ?
To persuade or dissuade you must interest the head
or the heart. I admire those who can do either suc-
cessfully, but I do protest against those clerical t}Tants
who shelter themselves behind their licence, to fire
at us their ruthless platitudes. If such could only
struggle against that strong temptation of our fallen
nature — the delight of hearing one's own sweet voice
— so as to concentrate now and then ! The best orators,
spiritual and mundane, have been brief sometimes.
I am no theologian ; but I take leave to doubt if,
in the elaborate divinity of fourteen epistles, the
apostle of the Gentiles ever went so straight to his
hearer's heart as in that farewell charge, when the
elders of Ephesus gathered round him on the sea
sand, * Sorrowing most of all for the words that he
spake, that they should see his face no more.'
Do you remember Canning and the clergjonan ?
When the latter asked him, ' How did you like my
sermon ? I endeavoured not to be tedious ?' I always
fancy the statesman's weary wistful look, which would
have been compassionate but for a sense of personal
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 57
injury, as lie answered, in his mild voice, ' And yet —
you were*
Well, the flirtation went on its way rejoicing, to
the intense amusement of all of us, especially of For-
rester ; till one day his cousin came into Guy's study,
who had just returned from hunting, looking rather
frightened, like a child who has let fall a valuable
piece of china : — it was only an honest man's heart
that she had broken. Slowly the truth came out, Mr
Foster had proposed to her that afternoon in the park.
We, far oiF in the drawing-room, heard the shrill
whistle with which Livingstone greeted the in-
telligence.
' You accepted him of course ? ' he said.
* Guy ! ' Miss Raymond answered, blushing more
than ever. (I'll back a woman against the world for
expressing half a chapter by a simple interjection ;
Lord Burleigh's nod is nothing to it.) * But, in-
deed,' she went on, ' I'm very sorry about it ; I never
saw any one look so unhappy before. Do you know
I think I saw the tears standing in his eyes ; and I
only guessed at the words, when he said, *' God bless
you!'"
' Ah, bah ! ' replied Guy, with his most cynical smile
on his lip ; ' he'U recover. Who breaks his heart in
these days, especially for such little dots of things as
you ? But, Bella mia, how do you think Mr Bruce
would approve of all these innocent amusements ?'
58 GUT I.mNGSTONE.
It was no blush now, but a dead waxen wbitencss,
that came over the beautiM face, even down to the
chin. The soft brown eyes grew fixed and wild with
an imploring terror. * You wonH tell him?* she
gasped out ; and then stood quivering and shudder-
ing. Guy was very much surprised : he had never
believed greatly in his cousin's affection for her be-
trothed ; but here there were signs, not only of the
absence of love, but of the presence of physical fear.
* My dear child,' he said very kindly, * don't alarm
yourself so absurdly. I have not the honour of Mr
Bruce's confidence ; and if I had, how could I tell him
of an affair where / have been most to blame ? 1*11
speak to Foster : he must not show his disappointment
even before Uncle Henry. You will be quite safe, you
Bce. But, mind, I won't allow any one to frighten
or vex my pet cousin.' His countenance lowered as
he spoke, and there was a threat in his eyes.
As the cloud darkened on his face, the light camo
back on Isabel Haymond's. She took his hand — all
fibre and sinew, like an oak-bough — into her slender
fingers, and pressed it hard. In good truth, a woman
at her need could ask no better defender than he who
stood by her side then, tall, strong, black-browed, and
terrible, as Saul. * Thank you so much, dear Guy,'
she whispered. ' If 3'ou speak to ^Ir Foster, you will
teU him how very sorry I am ! ' and then she left him.
Guy did speak to the curate : I hope gently. At
QXm LIVINGSTONE. 59
all events we never lauglied at him again. IIow
could we, when we saw him going about his daily
duties, honestly and brayely, and always, when in
presence, struggling with his great sorrow, so as not
by word or look to compromise the thoughtless child,
who had won his heart for her amusement, and
thrown it away for her convenience ?
I have been disciplined since by what I have felt
and seen, and I see, now, how ungenerous we had been.
AVhat right had we to make of that man a puppet
for our amusement, because he was shy, and stupid,
and slow ? He was as true in his devotion, as honour-
able in all his wishes, as confident in his hopes till
they were blasted, as any one that has gone a- wooing
since the first whisper of love was heard in Eden. If
his despair was less crushing than that of other men,
it was because his principles were stronger to endure,
and perhaps because his temperament was more tran-
quil and cold. As I have said, he did his day's work
thoroughly, and that helped him through a good deal.
But to the utmost of his nature, I believe he did sufier.
And could the long train of those whom disappoint-
ment has made maniacs or suicides do more ?
Let us not trust too much in the absence of feeling
in these seemingly impassive organizations.
I wonder how often the executors of old College
Fellows, or of hard-faced bankers and bureaucrats,
have been aggravated by finding in that most eecret
60 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
drawer, which ought to have held a codicil or a jewel,
a tress, a glove, or a flower ? The searcher looks at
the object for a moment, and then throws it into the
rubbish-basket, with a laugh if he is good-natured,
with a curse if he is vicious and disappointed. Let
it lie there — though the dead miser valued it above
all his bank-stock, and kissed it oftener than he did
his living and lawful wife and children — what is it
worth now ? Say, as the grim Dean of St Patrick
wrote on his love-token — ' Only a woman's hair/
Now these men, unknown to their best friend per-
haps, had gone through the affliction which is so com-
mon, that it is hard to speak of it without launching
into truisms. This sorrow has made some men famous,
by forcing them out into the world and shutting the
door behind them. It has made the fortunes of some
poets, who choose the world for their confidant, set-
ting their bereavement to music, and bewailing Eury-
dice in charming volumes, that are cheap at * 3s. Qd,
in cloth, lettered.-* It has made som.e — I think the best
and bravest — somewhat silent for the rest of their lives.
I read some lines, the other day, wise enough to ha^e
sprung from an older brain than Owen Meredith's.
They were pedants who could speak —
Grander souls have passed unheard ;
Such as felt all language weak ;
Choosing rather to record
Secrets before Heaven, than break
i'aith with angels, by a word •
GtJT LIVINGSTONE. 61
Yes! many men have tteir Rachel; but — there
being a prejudice against bigamy — few have even the
Patriarch's luck, to marry her at last. For the wife
de convenance generally outlives her younger sister ;
and so, one afternoon, we turn again from a grave in
Ephrata-Green Cemetery, somewhat drearily, into our
tent pitched in the plains of Belgravia, where Leah —
(there was ever jealousy between those two) — meets
us with a sharp glance of triumph in her * tender eyes.'
We have knc^Ti pleasanter Ute-a-i4tes — ^have we
not ? — than that which we undergo that evening at
dinner ; though our companion seems disi)0sed to be
especially lively. We have not much appetite ; but
our carissima sposa tells us, ' not to di'ink any more
claret, or we shall never be fit to take her to Lady
Shechem's conversazione' Of all nights in the year
would she let us off duty on this one ? * There are
to be some very pleasant people there,' she says,
* though none, perhaps, that you 2^<^^i^cularly care
about.^ (Thank you, my love; I understand that
good-natured allusion perfectl}^, and am proj)ortion-
ately grateful.) Her voice sounds shriller than usual,
as she says this, and leaves us to put some last touches
to her toilette. So we order a fresh bottle, notwith-
standing the warning, and fall to thinking. How
low and soft tliat other voice was, and, even when a
little reproachful, how rarely sweet ! She would
scarcely have invented that last taimt, if matters had
62 Gtrt LIVIKGSTONE.
turned out diflferently. Then we think of our respect-
ed fatlicr-in-law, Sir Joseph Leyburn, of Harran
Park — a miglit}^ county magistrate and cattle-breeder.
lie got Ishmael Dcadej'e, the poacher, transported
last year, and took the prize for Dcvons at the Great
Mesopotamian Agricultural, with a brindled bull.
Wq remember his weeping at the wedding-breakfast
over the loss of his eldest treasure ; and wonder if he
was an arrant humbug, or only a foolish fond old
man, inclining morosely toAvards the former opinion.
We don't seem to care much about Sir Roland de
Vaux, the celebrated geologist, whom we shall haye
the privilege of meeting this evening. "WTiat are
strata to us, when our thoughts will not go lower
than about eight feet undergroimd ? We shall be
rather bored than otherwise by Dr Stemhold, that
eminent Christian divine, who passes his leisure
hours in pro\dng St Paul to have been an imsound
theologian and a weak dialectician. Why should
Mr Planet, the intrepid traveller, be always inflict-
ing Jerusalem upon us, as if no one had ever visited
the Iloly Land before him ? Our ancestors did so
five hundred years ago, and did not make half the
fuss about it ; and thei/ had a skirmish or two there
worth speaking of, while we don*t believe a word of
Planet's encoimter vdih those three Arabs on the
Hebron road. Pooh I there's no more peril in tra-
versing the Wilderness of Cades, than in going up to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 63
the Grands Mulcts. We are not worthy of those
distinguished men, and would prefer the society of
hard-riding Dick Foley of the Blues. He had a few
feelings in common with us once on a certain point
(how we hated him then !), and he won't wonder if
we are duller than usual this evening. Perhaps his
own nerve will scarcely be as iron as usual in the
Grand Militarj^ to come off in the course of the week.
* TVell, the bottle is out, and Mademoiselle Zelpa
conies to say that * Madame is ze raidee.' So one
glass of cognac neat, as a chasse (to more things than
good claret), and then — let us put on our whitest tie,
and our most attractive smile, and ' go forth, for she
is gone/
64
CHAPTER VIII.
A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Fpon her perfect lips.
"We were asked to dine and sleep at Brainswick,
where the hounds met on the following morning.
Mr Raj-mond could not make up his mind to the
exertion, so Forrester and I accompanied Guy alone.
* By-the-by/ the latter observed, as we were dri^ong
over in his maLl-j)haeton, ' I wonder if we shall see
the Bellas^^s to-night ? I know they were to como
down about this time. Steady, old wench ! AYhere
arc you off to ? ' (This was to the near wheeler, who
was breaking her trot.) * I tliink you'll admire her,
Frank; but, gave a vous, she's dangerous. Eh,
Charley?'
'"Well, you ought to laiow,' answered Forrester ;
* I never tried her much mj^self. She's two or three
stone over my weight. I wonder what she has been
doing latel}^ ? They sent her down to rusticate some-
where at the end of the season. She ought to be in
great condition now, with a summer's run.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 65
Livingstone smiled, complacently I thouglit, as if
some one had praised one of his favourite himters,
but did not pursue the subject
When I came down before dinner he was talking
to a lady in dark -blue silk with black Lace over it, a
wreath curiously plaited of natural ivy in her hair. I
guessed her at once to be Flora Bellasys.
Let me try to paint — though abler artists have
failed — the handsomest brunette I have ever seen.
She was very tall ; her figure magnificently deve-
loped, though slender-waisted and lithe as a serpent :
she walked as if she had been bred in a basquina, and
her foot and ankle were hardly to be matched on this
side of the Pyrenees : the nose slightly aquiline^ with
thin transparent nostrils; and the forehead rather
low, — it looked more so, perhaps, from the thick
masses of dark hair which framed and shaded her face.
Under the clear pale olive of the cheeks the rich bleed
mantled now and then like wine in a Yenice glass; and
her lips — the outline of the upper one just defined by
a pencilling of dovra, the lower one full and pouting —
glistened with the brilKant smoothness of a pomegran-
ate flower where the dew is clinging. Her eyes — the
opium-eaters of Stamboul never dreamt of their peers
among the bevies of hachis-houi'is. They were of the
very darkest hazel : one moment sleeping lazily imder
their long lashes, like a river under leaves of water-
lilies; the next, sparkling like the same stream when
66 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
tlie sunlight is splintered on its ripples into carcanets
of diamonds. When they chose to speak, not all the
orators that have rounded periods since Isocrates could
match their eloquence ; when it was their ^411 to
guard a secret, they met you with the cold, impene-
trable gaze that we might attribute to the Mighty
Mother, Cybcle. Even a philosopher might have
been interested — on purely psychological grounds of
course — ^in watching the thoughts as they rose one by
one to the surface of those deep, clear wells (was
truth at the bottom of them ? — I doubt), like the
strange shapes of beauty that reveal themselves to
seamen, coyly and slowly through the purple calm of
the Indian Sea.
Twice I have chosen a watery simile ; but I know
no other element combining, as her glances did,
liquid softness with lustre.
When near her, you were sensible of a strange,
subtle, intoxicating perfume, very fragrant, perfectly
indefinable, which clung, not only to her dress, but
to everything belonging to her. From what flowers
it was distilled no artist in essences alive could have
told. I incline to think that, like the * birk ' in tlio
ghost's garland,
They vrere not gro"^n on earthly bank,
Nor yet on eaxthly sheugh.
Guy took Miss Bellasys in to dinner, and I found
myself placed on her other side. I had been intro-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 67
duced to her ten minutes before, but had little oppor-
tunity for ' improving the occasion/ as the Noncon-
formists have it, for she never once deigned a look in
my direction.
My right-hand neighbour was an elderly man of
a full habit, whom it would have been cruel to disturb
till the rage of hunger was appeased : so I was fain to
seek amusement in the conversation going on on my
left. There was no indiscretion in this, for I knew Guy
would never touch secrets of state in mixed company.
For some time they talked nothing but conmion-
places, evidently feeling each other^s foils. The real
fencing began with a question from Flora — if he was
not surprised at seeing her there that evening.
* Not at all,' was the reply ; * I Icnew we must
meet before long. It is only parallels that donH ; and
there is very little of the ri^ht-line about either
you or me.*
* Speak for yourself,' Miss Bellasys said; 'I con-
sider that a very rude observation.*
* Pardon me,* retorted Guy ; * I seldom say rude
things — never intentionally. I don't know which is
in worst taste, that, or paying point-blank compli-
ments. Without being mathematical, you may have
heard that the line of beauty is a curve.*
Flora laughed.
* It is diflScult to catch you. What have you been
doing since we parted ? *
68 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
* That is just the question that was on my lips, so
nearly uttered that I consider I spoke first. Now,
will you confess, or must I cross- question some one
else ? I will know. It is easy to follow you, like an
invading army, by the trail of devastation.'
' So you do care to know ? ' the soft voice said,
that could make the nerves of even an indifferent
hearer thrill and quiver strangely.
After once listening to it, it was very easy to be-
lieve the weird stories of Norse sorceresses, and Ger-
man wood-spirits and nixies, luring men to death
with their fatally musical tones.
' Simple curiosity,' Guy replied, coolly, ' and a little
compassion for your victims. They might be friends
of mine, you know.'
Miss Bellasys bit her lip, half provoked, half
amused, apparently, as she answered, * The dead tell
no tales.'
* No, but the wounded do ; and they cry ou pretty
loudly sometimes. I suppose all the cases did not
terminate fatally. "Will you confess ? '
* I have nothing to tell you,' Flora said, very de-
murely and meekly — only, for once her eyes betrayed
her. * Mamma took me do^Ti into Devonshire, where
we have an aunt or two, for sea breezes and seclusion.
I rather liked at first having nothing on earth to do,
and nothing — yes, I understand — really nothing, to
think about. I used to sleep a great deal, and then
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 69
drive a little obstinate pony, to see views. But I don't
care mucli about views — do you ? Then mamma was
always wanting me to help her look for shells and
wild flowers ; and the rocks hurt my feet, and the
bushes never would leave mo alone in the woods.*
She shuddered slightly here.
' The Bushes ! a Devonshire family of that name,
I presume ? ' Guy interrupted, with intense gravity.
* How wrong of them ! They are very ill-regulated
young men down in those parts, I believe ? '
, 'Don't be absurd; I never saw a creature for
months between fifteen and fifty. Are not those ages
safe ? ^ (A shake of the head from Livingstone.) * I
began to be very unhappy ; I had no one to tease ;
my aimts are too good-natured, and mamma is used
to it. . At last I had the greatest mind to do some-
thing desperate — to write to you for instance — merely
to see the household's horror when your answer came.
You would have answered, would you not ? I should
not have opened it, you know, but given it to mamma,
like a good child.'
' ' Of course ; I know you show all your letters to
your mother. But that ruralizing must have been
fearful for you, poverina ! People were talking a good
deal of agricultural distress; but this is the most
piteous case I've heard of. So there were really no
men to govern in that wood ? '
"Not even a little boy/ said Flora, decisively.
<0 GUY LTTINGSTONE.
* There were two or three from Oxford in the neigh-
bourhood ; I used to see them sitting outside their
lodgings in the sun, like rabbits, but they always ran
in before — *
* Before you could get a shot at them, j^ou mean ? *
broke in Guy ; ' you ought to have crept up, and
stalked them cleverly/
Flora threw back her handsome head — ' I don't war
with childi-en. It went on just as I tell you, till we
left for our round of winter visits, which have been
very stupid and correct, till now.'
I hardly caught the last two words, she spoke them
so low. There was silence for several minutes, and
then Guy leant back to address me.
* Do you remember Arthur Darrell of Christchurch,
Frank, the man that used to speak at the Union, and
was always raving about ebon locks and dark eyes ? *
' I remember him well. I have not seen him for
years ; but I heard he was getting on well in the law.'
* Ile'll have time to get tired of brimettes — if any
one ever does get tired of them — before he comes back,'
said Guy. ' He's just gone out to try the Indian bar.'
* 'WTiat could have put such an idea into his head ? *
I asked, very innocently.
* I can't say,' was the reply ; ' men do take such
curious fancies. It was a sudden determination, I
believe. The beauties of the Eastern hemisphere
began to develop themselves to his weak mind last
GUY LIVINGSTONE. ?'l
Burainer wliilc lie was down witli liis JiCoplc in —
Devonsliire.'
Involimtarily I looked at Miss Bellasys. She saw
Biic was detected ; but, instead of betraying any em-
barrassment, she turned upon Guy a queer little im-
ploring look, not indicative in tlie least of sliarae or
repentance, but such, as might be put on by one of
those truly excellent people who do good by stealth
and blush to find it known, when some of their bene-
volent acts have come to light, and they wish to de-
precate praise.
Livingstone gazed piercingly at her for several in-
stants without moving a muscle of his face ; suddenly
its fixed and stern expression — yon could not say
softened, but — broke up all at once like a sheet of ice
shivering.
* Let there be peace,' he said, scntentiously. ' We
forgive all the errors of your long vacation, in con-
sideration of the good it has evidently done you. You
are looking brilliantly^ ! '
There was an unusual softness, almost a tremor,
in his deep voice, as he spoke the last words ; and a
look in his bold eyes that many trained coquettes
would have shrunk from — a look that I should be
sorry and angry to see turned on any woman in whom
I felt an interest. A look such as Selim Pasha might
wear as the Arnauts defile into his harem- court/
bringing the fair Georgians home.
72 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
!Flora Bellasj^s onl}" smiled iu saucy triumph.
*You say you never pay compliments/ she an-
swered ; * and I ahyays try to believe jom. AVe will
suppose this one is only the truth extorted. My glove
— thank you.' The same smile was on her lip as she
turned her head once in her haughty progress to the
door.
As Guy sat down again, and filled a huge glass
with claret, I heard him mutter between his teeth —
** Royahy quancl meme ! '
* Close up, gentlemen, close up ! ' broke in the
cheery voice of our rare old host. 'Livingstone,
if you begin back-handing already, you'll never
b3 able to hold that great raking chestnut I saw
your groom leading this evening. The man looked
as if he thought he would be eaten before he
got in.'
* Whatever you do, drinli fair,' Guy answered,
laughing ; ' so saith the immortal Gamp. The Squii-e's
beginning to tremble for his '22 "wine.'
* I don't wonder,' said Godfrey Parndon, the M.F.TI.
' I've alwaj^s observed that^ after flirting disgracefully
at dinner, you drink harder afterwards. It's to drown
remorse, I suppose. So you ride that new horse of
yours to-morrow ? My poor hoimds ! '
'Don't be alarmed,' replied Guy, *he never kicks
hounds, and I won't let him go over them ; it's only
hmnan strangers the amiable animal can't endure :
GUY LI\aNGSTONE. 73
that's why I call him the Axcine. He is worth more
than the £300 I gave for him.'
* Well ! he nearly spoilt two grooms for Houns-
cott/ Parndon said. * The stablemen at Eeycsby had
a great beer the day they got rid of him.'
*He wouldn't suit every one,' remarked Living-
stone. * ISTot you, for instance, Godfrey, who always
ride with a loose rein. I was obliged to give him his
gallops myself, at first ; he's a devil to pull, and if
he once gets away -svith you you may '^ write to your
friends." But I've nothing lilvo him in my stable.'
Then the conversation became general, revolving in
a circle of hound- and-horse talk, as it will do now
and then in the shires.
' Guy,' whispered Forrester, as we went up- stairs,
'there's a little woman here who says she used
to know you very well : won't you go and talk to
her?'
' Many little women say that,' answered Guy ; ' it's
a way they have. "Wliich is it now ? '
Charley pointed out a small, plump, rather pretty
blonde, with long ringlets, and Kght, laughing blue
eyes. It seemed the lady's reminiscences were well
founded, for in five minutes Livingstone and she were
talking like old friends.
In the course of the evening I found myself near
Miss Bellasys. This time she did me the honour to
address me, and soon began asking me more ques-
7i atJt LTWOSTOXE.
tions tlian I could answer, even had slie waited a
^^pI^^ — Did I like Kerton Manor ? ITad there been
many agreeable people there yet ? — Not any remark-
ably so ! — She was surprised at that. Miss Raymond
was there en permanence of course ? She was such a
favourite with her (Flora), and >vith her cousin too,
she thought. "Was Mr Livingstone always plajnng
with his uncle, and always losing ? She supposed he
liked losing — at play. Did I know the lady in pink,
wdth twenty-five flowers in her hair ? She had
counted them. Yes ! that was her husband ; the
stout man looking imcomfortable in the corner. An
old friend of Mr Livingstone's ? He had so many old
friends ; but he did not always talk to them for a whole
evening Tv^thout intermission. Ah ! she was going
to fiing ; that is, if Mr Livingstone had quite finished
with her, and would let her go. Little women with
pink cheeks and dresses always did sing, and never
had any voice.
I don't know how many more questions she put to
me in the same quiet, clear tones ; but just then I
happened to look doT^Ti on the handkerchief she held
in her hand, and I saw a long rent in its broad Yal-
enciennes border that I am very sure was not there
an hour ago ; for Flora's toilette, morning and even-
ing, was faultless to a degree.
I had hardly time to remark this, when Guy
lounged up to us. My companion's dark eyes were
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 76
more eloquent than her lips, which quivered slightly,
as she said —
* I wonder you have not more consideration. A
new arrival in the country, and compromised ii're-
trievably ! Look at Mr Strafford now.'
' The husband ? ' Guy said, with intense disdain ;
* the husband's helpless. He may sharpen his — tusks,
but he'll never come to battle. How good and great
you are ! It is quite refreshing to hear your strictures
on innocent amusements. But I beg you will speak
of that lady with due respect ; she is the first — yes,
positively the first — woman I ever loved ! '
* 3Io)iseigncur, que cChonneur ! ' Flora said, curling
her haughty lip.
* It is true,' Guy went on. ' At a children's ball,
about fifteen years ago, I met my fate ; she was in
white muslin, with a velvet boddice' (Flora shud-
dered visibly) ; * for a year after I pictured to myself
the angels in no other attire, and now — years vitiate
one's fancies so — I can fancy nothiog but a jockey,
in *' black body and white sleeves.'' I suppose she
was very pretty ; let us hope so ! it is my only ex-
cuse for being enchanted ten minutes, and stupidly
enslaved in half an hour. The thing would not have
been complete without a rival ; he came — a plump,
circular-faced boy, mth severely flaxen hair. No,
you need not look across the room — not the least like
"v^hat she is now ! Great jealousy may make me unjust^
76 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
but I don't think he had any advantage over me,
save one, and he used that mercilessly. He* wore
collars standing boldly erect under his fat cheeks,
v'hile those of the rest of us lay prostrate, after the
simple fashion of my childhood. The prestige was
too much for Ellen's weak mind (did I tell you her
name was Ellen ?) — Bottom monopolized Titania for
the rest of the evening. I could have beaten him
with ease and satisfaction to myself, but I refrained ;
and, rushing into the supper-room, drained three
glasses of weak negus with the energy of despair.
' I have never suffered anything since lilie the
torment of the next two hours. I saw her several
times afterwards, and might have made play, per-
haps ; but the phantom of a roimd red face, with col-
lars starched a routrance, always came between us.
It was only a slight satisfaction to hear that she has
utterly lost sight of my rival, and promises to cut
him dead the first time they meet. There's the his-
tory of a young heart blighted — of a crushed affection !
I am not aware that there is any moral in it ; if
there is, you are welcome to it, I am sure. You
might look a little more sympathizing, though^ even
if I have bored j^ou.'
Flora tried to look grave, but the dancing light in
her rebellious ajQS betrayed her, even before her
merry musical laugh broke in.
'It is far the most touching thing I overheard
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 77
Poor child ! how you must have suffered ! I wonder
you ever smiled again. How well she sings, does she
not ? — when she does not try to go too high.'
' Don't be severe/ Guy retorted ; ' you may have
to sing yourself some day. You prefer talking,
though ? Well, with a well-managed contralto^ it
comes nearly to the same thing ; and I suppose you
consider the world in general is not worthy of it ? '
Almost imperceptibly, but very meaningly, her
glance turned to where I sat close behind her.
* How absurd ! you know why I don't sing often.
To-night it would be — too cruel.^ (Flora's idea of
modest merit was peculiar.) * JSTow, tell me, what are
you going to ride to-morrow ? "We shall all go and see
them throw off.'
Without answering her question he leant over her,
and said something too low for me to hear, which
made her colour brighten.
From a distant corner two ancient virgins, long
past * mark of mouth,' surveyed the procedings with
faces like moulds of lemon-ice. Flora glanced to-
wards them this time, and said demurely, making a
gesture of crossing her arms a la NapoUon I. — * Take
care ; from the summit of yonder sofa forty ages be-
hold you.'
The caution was a challenge ; and so her hearer
interpreted it, as he sank down beside her.
I seemed to be lapsing rapidly lato the terrible
78 Gl/Y LIVINGSTONE.
third tliat spoils sport, so I left them ; but not ail the
adjurations of Godfrey Parndon invoking liis favourite
antagonist to the whist-table could draw Guy from
his post again that evening.
I know men who would have given five years of
life for the whisper that glided into his ear as he gave
Miss Bellasys her candle on retiring, ten for ihc Par*
thian glance that shot its arrow home.
CHAPTER IX.
1 know the purple vestment ;
I know the crest of flame ;
So ever rides Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name.
The next was a perfect hunting morning : a llglit
breeze, steady from tlie south-west, and not too much
Sim ; the very day when a scent, in and out of cover,
would be a certainty, if there were any calculating on
this contingency. Let us do our sisters justice — there
is 0716 thing in nature more uncertain and capricious
than the whims of womankind.
The hounds had come up with their usual train of
officials, and of those steady- going sportsmen who love
the pack better than their own children, and can call
each individual in it by his name. Godfrey Parndon
was doing the civil to the * great men in Israel,' his
heaviest subscribers ; pinks were gleaming in every
direction through the clumps and belts of plantation,
as the men came up at a hard gallop on their cover-
hacks, or opened the pipes of their himters by a
^tretob over the turf of the park.
80 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
On tlie hall- steps stood Flora Bellasys — Penthesilea
in a wide-awake and plume ; a dozen men were round
her, striving emulously for a word or a smile, and she
held her own gallantly with them all ; she was wait-
ing patiently till Guy had lighted an obstinate cigar,
and was ready to mount her. He understood putting
her up better than any one else, she said. Perhaps
he did ; but, though he swung her into the saddle
with one wave of his mighty arm as Hghtly as Loch-
invar could have done, the arrangement of the skirt
and stirrup seemed a problem hardly to be solved.
If there was any truth in the old Courland super-
stition, that the display of a lady's ankle to the
hunters before they started brought them luck, we
ought to have had the run of the season that day.
He rode by her side, too, as near as the plunges of
the chestnut would allow, till we reached the gorse
that we were to di'aw ; once there the stronger passion
prevailed. Aphrodite hid her face, and the great
goddess Artemis claimed her own. As the first
hound whimpered, he drew off towards a corner,
where a big fence woidd give him a chance of shaking
off the crowd, and I do not think he turned his head
till the fox went away.
The last thing I remember, there was the anxious
look in two beautiful hazel eyes as they gazed after
the Axcine, charging his second fence with the rush
of an express train.
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 81
1l\iq fetiche did not fail us; we had a wonderful
run, of which only five men saw the end. I confess
the second brook stopped me and many others. For-
rester got over with a fall ; but they were preparing
to break up the fox, when he came up first of the
second flight.
Guy came home in great spirits ; he had been ad-
mirably carried. He and the first whip, a ten- stone
man, were head and head at the last fence, while the
hounds were rolling over their fox, a hundred yards
farther, in the open.
After dinner he amused himself by teasing his
cousin. At last he asked her if she would lend him
Bella Donna to hack to cover, as his own favourite
was rather lame.
Miss Raymond's indignation was superb ; for, be
it known, she was prouder of the said animal than of
anything else in the world.
She (the mare, not the lad}^) was a bright bay, with
black points, quite thorough-bred, and as handsome
as a picture. Livingstone had bought her out of G
training- stable, and had given her to his cousin, afte/
having her broken into a perfect Hght-weight hunter.
One of the few extravagances in which Mr Ray-
mond indulged his daughter was, allowing her to take
Bella Donna wherever she went.
' Don't excite yourself, you small Amazon ! ' repHcd
Guy to her indignant refusal. ' IIow you do believe
82 GUY LmNGSTONE.
in tliat mare ! I wonder you don't put lier Into some
^f the great Spring Handicaps ! You would get lier
in liglit, and might win enough to keep you in glovea
for half a century.*
*Well, I don't know/ Forrester's slow, languid
voice suggested ; ' I think she's faster, for three miles,
than anything in your stable. I should like to run
the best you have for £50, weight for inches.'
* I am not surprised at your supporting Bella's
opinion,' said Gruy, with a shade of sarcasm in his
voice ; * but I did not expect that you would back it.
Come, I'll make this match, if you like : you shall
ride catch- weight, which will be about list. 71b. ; and
I'll ride the Axeine at 14st. 71b. : I must take a 71b.
saddle to do that. They are both in hard condition,
80 it can come off in ten days ; and I'll give the farm-
ers a cup to run for at the same time. Is it a match ? '
* Certainly, if Miss Baymond will trust me with
Bella Donna.'
Isabel's eyes sparlded — so brilliantly ! as she an-
swered, ' I should like it, of all things.'
*^ow, Puss,' Guy went on, * you ought to have
something on it. There is a certain set of turquoises
and pearls that I meant to give you whenever you had
been good for three weeks consecutively ; it is no use
waiting for such a miracle, so I'll bet you these
against that sapphire and diamond ring you have
taken to wearing lately.*
GUY LiriXG STONE. 83
His cousin looked distressed and confused. ' Any-
thing else, Guy ? * slie said. * I cannot risk that ; it
was a present from — Mrs Molyneux.'
* I don't think/ Charley suggested very quietly,
'Mrs — Molyneux, was it not ? — could object to your
investing her present on such a certainty. I really
believe we shall bring it off; and, if not — ' IIo
checked himself with a smile.
* Oh, if you think so,' answered Isabel, blushing
more than ever, * I "will venture my ring. But you
must win ; I don't l^now what I shoidd do if I lost
it.' 80 it was settled.
* You seem confident,' I remarked to Livingstone,
later in the evening. I remember the peculiar expres-
sion of his face, though I did not then understand it,
as he answered gravely —
* Bella ought to be ; for — she has laid long odds.'
There was great excitement in the neighbourhood
when the match, and the farmers' race to follow, be-
came known. Half the county vras assembled on tho
appointed morning, an off-day with the Pj^tchley.
Godfrey Parndon was judge, and had picked the
ground — a figure of 8, with 17 fences, large but fair
for the most part ; the horses were to traverse it twice,
missing the brook (16 feet clear of water) the second
time.
I wish they were not getting so rare, those purely
country-meetings, where three wagons with an awn-
84 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
ing make tlie grand stand ; where there are no ring
men to force the betting and deafen you with their
bhatant proffers — ' to lay agin anything in the race ; '
where the bold yeomen, in full confidence that their
favourite will not be * roped/ back their opinions
manfully for crowns.
Livingstone's great local renown, and the reputation
of the Axeine for strength and speed (though no one
knew how fast he could go), made the betting 5 to 4
on him ; but takers were not wanting, calculating on
the horse's truly Satanic temper. Miss Bellasys, who,
with her mother, had arrived at Kerton the night
before, laid half a point more — 7iot in gloves — on the
heavy-weight.
The bell for saddling rang, and the horses came out.
The mare stripped beautifully, as fine as a star — ^no
wonder her mistress was proud of her ; and I think
she had to the full as many admirers as the Axeine.
The latter was a dark chestnut with a white fetlock,
standing full 16 hands (while the mare scarcely top-
ped 15), well ribbed up, with a good sloping shoulder,
immense flat hocks, and sinewy thighs ; his crest and
forehand were like a stallion's ; and when you looked
at his quarters, it was easy to believe what the
Ilevesby stablemen said, — ' They coidd shoot a man
into the next county.'
He was * orkarder than usual that morning ' the
groom remarked ; perhaps he did not fancy the crowd
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 85
without the hounds, for lie kept lashing out perpetu-
ally, with yicious backward glances from his red eyes.
Then the riders showed : Livingstone in his o^vn
coloui's, purple and scarlet cap, workmanlike and
weather-stained ; Forrester in the fresh glories of
light blue with white sleeves, his cap quartered with
the same.
Charley lingered a minute by Miss Raymond's side,
taking her last instructions, I suppose : she looked
very nervous and pale — her jockey pleasantly languid
as ever.
The instant the chestnut was mounted he reared,
and indulged in two or three * buck-jumps ' that would
have made a weaker man tremble for his back-bone,
and then kicked furiously : but Guy seemed to take
it all as a matter of course, sitting square and erect ;
all he did was to drive the sharp rowels in repeatedly,
bringing a dark blood spot out with each stroke. It
was not by love, certainly, that he ruled the Axeine.
Then came the preliminary gallops : the mare going
easily on her 'bit, gliding over the ground smoothly
and springily ; the horse shaldng his head, and every
now and then tearing madly at the reins, without
being able to gain a huir's breadth on the iron hands
that never moved from his withers.
' They're off ! ' Guy taking the lead ; well over the
first two fences, fair hunting ones; the third is a
teaser — an ugly black bullfinch with a ditch on the
SQ GUT LIVINGSTONE.
landing side, and a drop into a ploughed field. Tlie
chestnut's devil is thoroughly roused by this time.
"When within sixty yards of the fence, he puts on a
rush that even his rider's mighty muscles cannot
check : his impetus would send him through a castle
wall ; but he hardly rises at the leap, taking if, too,
where there is a network of growers — a crash that
might be heard in the grand stand — and horse and
man are rolling in the field beyond.
Flora Bellasys strikes her foot angrily with her
riding- w^hip, and turns very pale.
Ten lengths behind, the mare comes up, well 11
hand, and slips through the bullfinch without a mis-
take — hardly with an efibrt — just at the only place
where you can see daylight through the blackthorn.
What is Guy doing ? Even in that thundering fall
he has never let the reins go. Horse and rider strug-
gle up together. A dozen arms are ready to lift hiin
into the saddle, and a cheery voice says in his ear,
* Hold up. Squire ; keep him a-going, and you'll catch
the Captain j^et ! ' He hardly hears the words though,
for his head is whirling, and he feels strangely sick
and faint ; but before he has gone a hundred yards
his face has settled into its habitual resolute calmness,
only there is a thin thread of blood creeping from
imder his cap, and his brow is bent and lowering.
A fall, which would have taken the fight out of most
horses, has only steadied the Axeine; and as wa
GUY LI VmC STONE. 87
watcli Mm striding through the deep ground, casting
the dirt behind him like a catapult, we think and say,
* The race is not over yet/
i They are over the brook without a scramble : For-
rester still leads, ' riding patiently and well. lie
knows better than to force the running, even with the
difFerence in weight ; for the going is too heaA^ quite
to suit his marc.
As Livingstone passed the spot where Miss Hay-
moud was stationed, he turned half round in his saddle
and looked curiously in her face. She did not even
know he was near ; all her soul was ia her eyes, that
were gazing after Forrester with an anxiety so dispro-
portioned to the occasion, that her cousin fairly started.
* Poor child ! ' he said to himself, all his angry
feelings changing, ' she seems to haTC set her heart so
upo7i winning, it would be sad if she were disap-
pointed. No one has much on it : shall I try " Cap-
tain Armstrong " for once ? It would make her very
■^'"^PP}^- ^^^ accidents, I must win. They don't
know that the chestnut has not extended himself yet.*
We lose sight of the horses for a little. T\nien wc
see them again, the mare has decidedly gained ground;
and, to our astonishment, the Axeiue swerves, and
refuses at rather an easy fence.
Hiss Bellasys* cheek flushes this time. She goes off
at a sharp canter through a gate that takes her into
a field where the horses must pass her close ; several
G
S8 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
of her attendants follow. Cliarley comes up, looking
rather more excited and happy than usual. TTe has
made the pace better for the last half mile, and stiU
seems going at his ease. ]More than a distance behind
is the chestnut, evidently on bad terms with his
jockey ; he is in a white lather of foam, and changes
his leg twice as he approaches. Guy has his face
turned slightly aside, as he nears the spot where Miss
Bellasys waits for him, in the midst of her body-
guard. For the first time, since the race began, her
voice was heard, cutting the air with its clear mock-
ing tones, Kke the edge of a Damascus sabre — ^ The
chestnut wins — hard held ! '
Guy's kindly impulses vanished instantly before the
sarcasm latent in those last two words. lie could
sacrifice his own victory and the hopes of his backers,
but he would not give a chance to Flora's merciless
tongue. We saw him change his hold on the reins,
and, with a shake and a fierce thrust of the spurs, ho
set the Axcine fairly going.'
Every man on the ground, including his late owner
(who hated himself bitterl}^ at that moment for parting
with him), was taken by surprise by the extraordinary
speed the horse displayed. He raced up to Bella
Donna just before the last fence, at which she hangs
ever so little, while he takes it in his swing, cover-
ing good nine j'ards from hoof to hoof. Nothing but
hurdles now between them and home. The down-hill
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 89
run-in favoiu-s his yast stride. A thousand voices
echo Flora's words, ' The chestnut wins ! ^ Charley
made his effort exactly at the right time, and the
brave little mare'answered gallantly ; but it was not
to be. He shook his head, and never touched her
with whip or spur again.
The race was over. No one disputed the judge's
fiat : ' The Axeine by six lengths.'
Up to the skies went the hats and the shouts of the
sturdy yeomen, who * know'd he couldn't be beat,'
exulting in the success of their favourite. Eound
winner and loser crowded their friends, congratulating
the- one, condoling with the other; praising both for
their riding. At that moment I do not think any
one, except myself, remarked Isabel EajTnond, who
sat somewhat apart, her tears falling fast under her
veil, as she looked upon her lost ring.
Just then Forrester rode up. * TVoe to the van-
quished ! ' he said. * All is lost but honour. Will
you say something kind to me, after my defeat. Miss
Eaymond ? You will find your pet not pimished in
the least, and without a scratch on her.-*
Without answering she held out her hand. As he
bent over it, and whispered, what I could not hear, I
saw her eyes sparkle, and a happy consciousness
flush her cheeks, till they glowed like a sky at sunset
when a storm is passing away in the west. Then I
knew that he had won a richer prize than ever was
90 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
set on a race, since the first Great Metropolitan was
run for at Olympia.
Livingstone had. washed away the traces of his fall
(his wound was only a cut under the hair, ahove the
temple), and was going to get the horses in line, to
start them for the farmer^s cup. As he passed Miss
Bellasys he checked his horse for an instant, and said,
very coldly —
* You are satisfied, I trust ? '
* All's well that ends well,' answered Flora ; * but
I began to tremble for my bets. I thought you were
waiting too long.'
Guy did not wish to pursue the subject apparenlh%
for he rode on without reply. Flora made no attempt
to detain him ; she had studied the signs of the times
in his countenance long enough to be weather-^isc,
and to know that the better part of valour was ad-
visable when the quicksilver had sunk to Stormy.
The cup was a great success. Eleven started, and
three made a most artistic finish — scarcely a length
between first and third. The farmers of the present
day ride very differently from their ancestors of fifty
years ago, whose highest ambition was to pound along
after the slow, sure 'currant-jelly dogs.'
Go down into the vale of Bel voir, watch one of the
Duke's tenants handing a five-year old over the
Smite, and say if the modeni agriculturists might not
boast with Tydides —
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 91
i)fiiiQ Si) 7raTsp<i)v fiiy' a/xsivoj/ff euxo}ii9' ilva:^
They are getting so erudite, too, that I dare say
they would quote it in the original.
When all was over, and they were returning to
Kerton, Guy ranged up to his cousIn^s side. He
looked rather embarrassed and penitent ; an expres-
sion which sat upon his stern, resolute face very
strangely. But Isabel was radiant with happiness,
and did not even sigh as she held out the forfeited
ring. He put it back with a decided gesture of his
hand, and, leaning over her, whispered something in
her ear. I don't know how they arranged it ; but
Miss Eaymond wore the turquoises at the next county
ball — the ring, to her dying dav.
92
CHAPTER X.
Souvent femrne varie ;
Bien fol est, qui s'y fie.
TVe sat by the firelight in tlie old library of Xerton
Manor. The di'eary January evening was closing in,
with a sharp sleet lashing the windows and rattling
on their diamond panes ; but the gleams from the
great burning logs lighted up the dark-crimson
cushions of Utrecht and the polished walnut panels
so changefuUy and enticingly, that no one had the
heart to think of candles.
All the younger members of the party were as-
sembled there, with Mrs Bcllasys to play propriety.
It was her mission to be chaperon-in-ordinary to her
daughter and her daughter's friends, and she went
through with it, admirable in her patient self-denial.
May they be reckoned to her credit hereafter — those
long hours, when she sat, sleepy, weary, uncomplain-
ing, with an aching head but a stereot}^ed smile.
Let us speak gently of these maternal martyrs,
manoeuvring though they be. If they have erred,
they have suffered. Iknew once a lady with a
GVY LIVINGSTONE. 93
lot of six, nubile, but not attractive, all with a decided
bias towards Terpsichore and Hymen. Fancy what
she must have endured with those plain young women
round her, always clamouring for partners, temporary
or permanent, like fledglings in a nest for food.
Clever and unscrupulous as she was- — they called her
the * judicious Hooker,' — she must have been conscious
of her utter inability to satisfy them. She knew, too,
that if, by any dispensation, one wero removed, five
daughters of the horse-leech would still remain, with
ravenous appetites unappeased. Yet the poor old bird
was cheerful, and sometimes, after supper, would chii'p
quite merrily. Honneur au courage malheureiix. Let
us stand aside in the cloak-room, and salute her as
she passes out with all the honours of war.
Mrs T3ellasys was a little woman, who always re-
minded me of a certaiu tropical monkey — name un-
knoT^Ti. She wore her hair bushily on each side of
her small face, just like the said intelligent animal,
and had the same eager, rather frightened way of
glancing out of her beady black eyes, accompanied
by a quick turning of the head when addressed. She
had had her full share of troubles in her tiaie ; but
she took them all contentedly — not to say compla-
cently, — as part of the day's work. Her husband
was not a model of fidelity ; nor^ indeed, of any of
the conjugal or cardinal wtucs. He was a sort of
Maelstrom, into which fair fortunes and names w^ere
94 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
sucked do^vn, only emei'gmg in unrecognizable frag-
ments. His own would have gone too, doubtless ;
but he had been lucky at play for a long time — too
constantly so, some said, — and a pistol-bullet cut him
short before he had half spent his wife's money, so
that she was left comfortably off, and her daughter
was a fair average heiress. She had long ago
abdicated the government in favour of Flora, who
treated her well on the whole, en honne princesse.
It is an invariable rule that, if there is a delicate
subject which we determine beforehand to avoid, this
particular one is sure imperceptibly to creep into the
conversation
Mr Bruce was to arrive before dinner, an event
which we guessed would not add materially to the
comfort of two of our party (how silent those two
were in their remote corner where the firelight never
came !), so of course we found ourselves talldng of
ill-assorted marriages.
* You count mesaUia7ices among such ! ' Guy asked,
at length. * Yes, you are right ; but I laiow a case
where " a man's being balked in his intention to de-
grade himseK" ruined him for life. Ralph Mohun
told me of it. It was a nine-days' wonder in Vienna
soon after he joined the Imperial Cuirassiers. A
Bohemian Count flourished there then; a great
favourite with every one, for he was frank and
generous, like most boys well born and of great pos-
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 95
sessions, wlio have only seen tKings in general on the
sunny side. "WTiile down at his castle for the shoot-
ing, he fell in love with the daughter of one of Ms
foresters. The man was a dull, brutal cur, and when
di'unk especially savage. His daughter was rarely
beautiful ; at all events, the Count, a good judge,
thought her peerless.
* lie meant fairly by the girl from the first, and
promised her marriage, actually intending to keep his
word. Still there were arrangements to be made
before he could introduce such a novel element into
blood that for centuries had been pure as the sangue
azzura. He went up to Vienna for that purpose,
leaving his design a profound secret to all his depend-
ents. If these thought about it at all, they probably
believed their master*s intentions to be— Like Dick
Harcourt^s towards the Irish ladj^ — "strictly dis-
honourable.''
* One night during his absence shrieks came from
the cottage where the forester lived alone with his
daughter. Those who heard them made haste ; but
it was a desolate spot, far from any other dwelling,
and they came too late.
* They found the giid l3^ing in her blood, not a
feature of her pretty face recognizable. Near her
were the butt of a gun shivered, and her father
senselessly drunk. He had evidently finished the
bottle after beating her to death.
96 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
* 'Wlieth.er it was merely an outbreak of Lis stupid
ferocity, or whether slie had exasperated him by her
threats and taunts, for she was of a haughty spirit,
poor child ! and perhaps rather elevated by the
thought of the coming coronet, will never be known.
The mui'derer was in no state to make a confession,
and he remained obstinately silent in prison tiU his
lord's return.'
' How very horrible ! ' Mrs Bellasys cried out,
shuddering ; * was not the Count very angry ? '
* Well, he was rather vexed,' replied Guy, coolly.
* They are high justiciaries on their own lands, those
great Bohemian barons, and so he gave the forester a
fair trial. It was soon over ; the man denied nothing,
only whining out, in excuse, that he thought his
daughter was dishonoured. The shadow of death
was closing round him, and he was nearly mad with
fear.
' The old steward saw a strange sort of smile twist
liis master's white quivering lips when he heard this ;
but he never said a word. I imagine he thought to
reveal his purpose now that it was crushed, too great a
sacrifice, even to clear the dead girl's fair fame : per-
haps, though, he could not trust his voice, for he did
not announce the sentence in words, but wi'ote it
down : his hand shook very much, and it never car-
ried a fidl glass vjispilled to his mouth again.
* The court broke up at midday, and the man went
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 97
straight, unconfessed, to the place of his punishment.
They tied him to the tree nearest his own door, and
the Count sat by while he howled his life out under
the lash. He was hardly dead by sundown.*
'It was revenge, not justice,' Mrs Bellasys said,
more firmly than was her wont. I saw the quick,
impatient movement of her daughter's little foot ; she
did not appreciate her mothei-'s moralities.
The answer came in the deepest of Livingstone's
deep, stern tones.
* He was no saint, but a man, and a very miserable
one ; he acted according to his light, and in his despair
caught at the weapon that was nearest to his hand.
After all, the blood of a base, brutal hound, take it
in what fashion you will, is a poor compensation for
one life cut short in agony, and another blasted
utterly.
' Mohun knew the Count's family. Some of them,
maiden aunts, I suppose, were devotees of the first
order ; these came in person, or sent their pet priests,
to argue with him on his unchristian habits of sullen
solitude. The men of his old set came too, to laugh
him out of the horrors. Saint and sinner got the
same answer— a shake of the head, a curse, a threat
if he were not left alone, growled out between deep
draughts of strong Moldavian wine. They went, and
were wise ; for his pistols lay always beside him — ^in
case his servants offended him, I suppose, or if he should
98 GUY LlVrNGSTOXE.
take a sudden fancy to suicide, — and tho shaking
finger could liave pulled a trigger still.
* After a little, he left Vienna, shut himself up in
his castle, and would see no one.
'In England they would have tried at the ^^ de
lunatico " statute, but his next of kin left him in peace,
biding their time as patiently as they could ; they had
not to wait long : in four years a good constitution
broke up, suddenly at last ; and the Count exchanged
stupor for a sleep with his fathers, without benefit
of clergy. Perhaps they would not have given him
absolution, for he died certainly not in charity with
all men.*
' I don't know,' Mrs Bellasys objected, with a timid
obstinacy ; * I cannot argue with you ; but I am siu'e
it was very wrong.*
I struck in to the meek little woman's rescue.
* That's right, Mrs Bellasys, don't let him put you
down with the high hand ; it's always his way when
truth is against him ; but I never knew him break
down a stubborn fact yet.'
Guy turned upon me directly.
* Frank, I have often remarked in you_, with pain,
quite a feminine propensity to theorize. Women mil
do it. My dear Mrs Bellasys, don't look so dread-
fully like an accusing angel about to bring me to
book ; 3^ou know I am a hopeless heretic. They get
up a sort of Mernoria Technica in early youth, and it
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 99
cliiigs to them all their life tlirough. If they go
astray they never cease proclaiming aloud that " they
know it's very wrong : '^ though eminently unpracti-
cal, they think it due to themselves to pet certain
abstract truths (circumstances don^t affect them in the
least), like that priestess of Cotytto, who said to the
magistrate, through her tears, — " I may have been
unfortunate, but I've always been respectable ! "
Sometimes principle gets the pull over passion, but,
in such a case, regrets come as often afterwards as
remorse does in the reverse. I was reading a French
story the other day — ' he checked himself, with a
laugh. ' Bah ! I am in the prosaic vein, it seems,
anccdoting like the old knave of clubs.
* Will you go on ? ' Flora said, leaning over to-
wards him, her ej^es glittering in the firelight.
The thrill in her voice — strangely contagious it was
—told how much she was interested. I do not won-
der at it. There was only one man on earth for
whom she had ever really cared — he sat beside her
then — and, I beKeve, what attracted her most in him
was the daring disregard of opinions, conventionali-
ties^ and more sacred things yet, which carried him
on straight to the accomplishment of his thought or
purpose. In those days, if either were an obstacle,
he fliached no more before a great moral law than at
a big fence.
* Well/ Guy went on, * it is the simple history of
100 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
Fernanclc, an anrje cUcJiue of the Quartlcr Br^da. She
had formed a connection with a man who suited her
perfectly in every way, and they went on in happy
immorality, till she found out that Maurice had a wife
somewhere, a very charming person, who loved him
dearly ; perhaps she thought that the possession of
two such affections by one man was de luxe ; at all
events, she cut him at once, refusing consistently to
see him again. Maurice, after trying all other means
to move her in vain, resorted to the expedient of a
brain-fever. "When his wife and mother saw him
very near his end, they sent for Fernande, as a last
resource. They ought to have preferred death to
dishonoui', of course ; but, my dear Mrs Bellasys,
they were not strong-minded. What would you have ?
There are women and women.
* She came and nursed him faithfiJly ; when he got
better, though still very weak, she took advantage of
his unprotected position to inflict on him the longest
lectm'es, replete with good sense and good feeling, as
to his conjugal duties, proprieties, and so forth. lie
gave in at last, on the j)rinciple of '^ anything for a
quiet life," and promised to behave himself like a
decent head of a family. When the balance of power
was thoroughly re-established, she left him ; first en-
treating him, when he foimd himself really in love
with his wife, and happy, to write and tell her so.
This was to be her reward, you know. The others
GUY liyts^gstoat:.
'•Tor
went to Italy, Fernando to a place slie liad in Brit-
tany, where she put herself on a strict regime of peni-
tence, attending matins regularly, and doing as much
good in her neighbourhood as Lady Bountiful, or —
my mother. In about a twelvemonth the letter came ;
Maurice was devoted to his wife, and great on the
point of domestic felicity. Then Fernande went into
her oratory, and prayed. What do you think was
the substance of her prayer ? '
* That she might go mad or die,' was the quick an-
swer ; it came from Flora Bellasys.
' How good of you,' Guy said, ' to let me finish that
long story, when you knew it by heart ! '
I think no ear but his and mine caught the whisper
— ^ I never read or heard of it till now.'
He bent his head in assent, as if the intelligence
did not sui'prise him much ; and then spoke suddenly —
* Charley, will you make an observation ? You have
been displaying that incontestable talent of yours for
silence long enough.'
Yery seldom was Forrester taken by surprise, but
this time his reply was not ready. There was an em-
barrassing pause, broken by a Dens ex machind — the
butler annoimcing that IMr Bruce had arrived, and
was in the drawing-room.
102
cnAPTr:R xi.
Aii<l now thou knoAvcst thy father's will,
All that thy sex hath need to know :
'Twas mine to teach ohcdicncc still —
The way to love, thy lord may show.
From tliat dark distant corner I heard a sigli, cndiiif^
in a nervou3 catcliing of tlio breath ; and then a mut-
tered word unpleasantly lilie an oath, as Forrester
sprang to his feet.
Livingstone rose slowly.
' I'll go and receive him. Let Mr Eaymond know,
"Wise. I suppose he will not care to see any one else
before dressing- time ; it must be near that now.*
As he passed his cousin, he whispered something
inaudible to us ; and I saw his heavy hand fall on
Charley's shoulder, crushing him down again like a
child.
Then Flora went to Miss RajTnond, and asked her,
with more kindness in her manner than usual, to come
to her rooms for some tea ; they alwaj^s seriously in-
clined to the consumption of that cheerful herb about
this hour. Isabel clung to her companion, as they
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 103
went out, with a meek helplessness, which was sad to
see.
Charley had vanished before them. After that first
involimtary moment, he had become nonchalant as
ever ; so I remained alone to ruminate. I confess,
after some thought, I was still in the dark as to where
things would end.
The meeting had been got over somehow, for, when
I came down before dinner, Bruce was sitting on a
sofa by Miss Raymond's side.
"Why does a man, in such a position, invariably
look as if he were on the stool of repentance, expiat-
ing some misdeed of unutterable shame ? He has sat
by the same woman before, when it was only a strong
flirtation ; more ej^es, curious and spiteful, were upon
him then, and he met them with perfect self-posses-
sion. InToW that he is in his right, why does he look
blushingly uneasy, as if he would call on the curtains
to hide him, and the cushions to cover him ? Have any
mortals existed, so good, or great, or wise, as to be
exempt from that dreadful poll-tax levied on all males
unprivileged to woo by proxy — the necessity of look"
ing ridiculous from the moment their engagement is
announced to that when they leave the chui'ch as
Benedicts ? I should like to have watched Burke, or
Herschel, or the Iron Duke, or any Archbishop of
Canterbury, through the ordeal of a recognized court-
ship. "Would the dignity of the statesman, the sage,
H
104 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
the soldier, or the saint, have been sustained ? I trow
not.
In truth it is a sight full of sad warning — that
ever-recurring spectacle of an engaged man (the lady
is always provokingly at her ease) in general society.
His friends turn away in compassion and charity ; the
girls, whom he ought to have married and — didn't,
look on, exchanging smiles with their mothers ; it is
their hour of savage trimnph. The French manage
things more comfortably, I think. The Promessi
Sposi meet so seldom before the contract is signed ;
between sentence and execution the time is so brief,
that there is little space for intermediate terrors.
Nature had not been bountiful to Mr Bruce in ex-
ternals. He was very tall, with round shoulders, long,
lean limbs, large feet and hands, and immense joints.
There was a good deal of strength about him, but it
wanted concentration and arrangement. His features
were rather exaggerated and coarse in outline, with
the high cheek-bones common on the north side of
the Tweed ; his hair of an unhappy vacillating colour
that could not make its mind up to be red ; and his
eyes, that rarely met you fairly, of a light cold grey.
About the mouth, in particular, there was a very im-
pleasant expression, alternately vicious and cunniug.
I do not believe that his intimates, if he had any,
in their wildest moments of conviviality, ever called
him ' Jack ; * nor his mother, in his earliest childhood,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 105
* Johniiie.* Plain * Jolin Bruce/ was written uncom-
promisiugly in every line of his face ; just the con-
verse of Forrester, whom old maids of rigid virtue,
after seeing him twice, were irresistibly compelled to
speak of as ' Charley.'
I wish some profound psychologist would give us
his theory on the question of ' The influence of nomen-
clature on disposition and destiny/ It is all very well
to ask ' What's in a name ? ' I think there is a great
deal ; and that our sponsors have much to answer for
in indulging their baptismal fancies. Not to go into
the subject (which some have already done without
exhausting it), have you not remarked that Georgiana
is always pretty and slightly sarcastic ; that Isabella
has large, soft, lustrous ejes — generally they are
dark ; that Fanny invariably flirts ; and that Kate is
decided in character, if not haughty ?
Tragedy and comedy both are forced to observe
these nominal proprieties. 'Who was it that illimiin-
ated his house, and had the church bells rung, on
finding a name for his hero ? We should never have
believed in lago's treacheries if he had appeared be-
fore us as simple * James.*
The new arrival seemed to have chilled us all into
stupidity. Dinner languished ; and afterwards, Guy,
after tr5dng at first to be laboriously civil — the sense
of duty was painfully evident — lapsed into silence,
passing the claret rather faster than usual, so that
106 GUT LTMNGSTONE.
'Mr E-aymoiid, to Lis intense disgust, liad to make an
effort and force the conversation.
When we entered, Isabel was nestling under Miss
Bellasys' wing, from which shelter she had to emerge
at Bruce's request for some music. She went directly,
and played several pieces that he asked for straight
through, while he stood gravely behind her with a
complacent air of proprietorship which was inex-
pressibly aggravating.
"VVlien her task was done she went back to her sofa
again ; there she was safe, for all Bruce's devotion to
his ladye-love, and stubbornness of character, could not
give him courage enough to affront, at close quarters,
the mingled dislike and scornful humour that played
round Flora's lips, and gleamed in her eyes, like
summer lightning. lie had to retreat upon Lad}'-
Catherine, who, thinldng him hardly used, in her in-
extinguishable charity exerted herself to entertain
him.
We were all glad when that first evening was over,
and we got into the smoking-room, whither Mr Bruce
was not entreated to follow. It was always an augury
of foul weather in Livingstone's temper, when, instead
of the decent evening cigar, lie smoked the short
black brule-gueule, loaded to the muzzle with caven-
dish, lie sat thus for some miimtes, rolling out stormy
puffs from imder his moustache ; and then broke out—
I haven't an idea what to do with him ' (thero
GUY LIVINGSTO^'E. 10?
was no need to name the object of liis 'tliouglits) ; ' I
made up my mind to risk a liorse or two, for of course
he would have broken their knees ; but when I offered
him a mount, he thanked me, and said " lie didn't
hunt." It would have got him away from home at
all events. Poor Bella ! How heavy on hand she will
find him ! '
* Ah ! and he might have come to a timely end
over timber ; Providence does interfere so benevo-
lently sometimes.* This was Forrester's pious reflec-
tion.
' Well, that's over,' Guy v/ent on. * lie must shoot,
though ; every one shoots, or thinks he does. We have
aU the pheasants to kill yet (by-the-by, Fallowfield
comes over on Thursday for the Home Wood) ; that
will keep him emj)loyed for some time ; but it's only
putting oif the evil day. My match-maldng aunt, of
blessed memory, how much she has to answer for !
I hate to think of Bella's mignonne face alongside of
that flinty-cheeked Scotchman's.'
* Don't be angry, Guy,' suggested Charley, ^-itli
some diffidence ; ' but, if it's not an impertinent ques-
tion, do you think he ever tries to kiss your cousin ? '
* I never thought of that,' replied Livingstone, not
without an oath ; ' there's another pleasant reflection.
INo ; I should think not. He is ceremonious, to
give the devil his due. I'll find out to-morrow,
though, mthout making Bella blush. Miss Bellasys
108 GUY LIVINGSTOXE.
is sm-e to know. I saw them exchanging confidences
all this evening ; and I am certain there were insti-
gations to rebellion. Flora would delight in an
enieute ; she's a perfect red republican, that girl.'
* The Opposition seems organizing/ I remarked ;
* Ministers will find themselves soon, I fear, without
a working majority.'
' Not unlikely,' said Guy, filling another pipe ;
* but they wonH resign. Some men never know when
they are beaten. Well ; he who lives will see. If
this wind lasts, we shall have a cracker from Lil-
boume to-morrow. You ride the young one, don't
you, Charley?'
109
CHAPTER XII.
A life wliose waste
Eavagcd each bloom by wbich its path was traced,
Sporting at will, and moulding sport to art,
With that sad holiness — the human heart.
It is a biiglit, crisp morning, and tliere is a gathering
round the hall door of Kerton Manor.
To the right is Sir Henry Fallowfield, already
established on the broad back of his shooting pony,
an invaluable animal, that can leap or creep wherever
a man can go, and steady under fire as old Copen-
hagen. The Baronet is very gouty. The whip made
out of his favourite vices cuts him sharply at times,
and he does not like it alluded to. I never saw him
look so savage at Guy as when the latter quoted,
^ Raro antecedentem scclestum Deseruit pede pceiia
claudoJ Of course, he cannot walk much ; but, placed
in a ride, or at the corner of a cover, he rolls over the
hares, and pulls down the pheasants unerringly as
ever; when you come up, you will find him. sur-
rounded by a semicircle of slain, and not a runner
among them.
110 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
The battle of life has left its tokens on the face of
the strong, skilful Protagonist. The features, once
so finely cut, are somewhat full and bloated now ; but
it is a magnificent ruin, and there are traces yet of
* the handsomest man of his day/ Yery expressive
are his glances still ; a little too much so, some people
tliink, when he is criticising a figure or a face ; but,
to do him justice, gourmandlse is his pet weakness
now, a comparatively harmless one ; and a delicate
entremet will bring the light into his eyes that only
war or love could do in the old days.
By Sir Henry^s side, encouraging him with great
prophecies of sport, stands Mallet, the head-keeper.
"Wliat a contrast his fresh honest face makes with the
veteran roue's ! He is the elder of the two by a good
ten years, and there is scarcely a wrinkle on his ruddy
cheeks and smooth forenead. Wind and weather have
used him with a rough kindness, and his foot is al-
most as light, his hand quite as heav}^, as when he
entered the service of Guy's grandfather half a cen-
tury ago. For generations his family have been de-
voted to the preservation of game ; his six stalwart
eons are all eminent in that line ; and the * Kerton
breed ' of keepers is renowned throughout the Mid-
land shires. lie is a prime favourite with the village
children and their mothers, for, in all respects, save
one, his heart is as soft as a woman's ; to poachers it
is as the nether mill-stone. There is the stain of a
GUY LIVINGSTONE. Ill
'justifiable homicide' on the old man's hands — the
blood of an antagonist slain in fair fight, in those
rough times when the forest was, and marauders came
out by scores to strike its deer. I do not think the
deed has weighed heavily on his conscience (though
he never has spoken of it since), or troubled his
healthy, honest slumbers.
To the left is Guy, repressing the attentions of four
couple of strong red and white spaniels, but not those
of Miss Bellasys, who, standing at the oriel window
of the Kbrary, is good-natured enough to fasten the
band of his wide-awake for him, which has come un-
done. As he stands with his towering head a little
bent, murmuring the ' more last words,' Sir Henry
contemplating the picture with much satisfaction,
smacks his lips, and suggests * Omphale.'
Last of all, Mr Eaymond comes slowly down the
staircase, followed by his son-in-law that is to be.
Forrester and I have been ready long ago, so we start.
Bruce did shoot, certainly, if discharging his gun on
the slightest provocation constituted the fact ; but he
shot curiously ill. Indeed, he might have formed a
pendant to that humane sportsman who, having
taken to rural sports, sero sed serio, said, in extreme
old age, * that it was a satisfaction to him to reflect
that he could not charge himself with having been,
wittingly, the death of more than a dozen of his fel-
low-creatures.'
112 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
It was a problem whereon Mallet ruminated gravely
long afterwards — ' Wherever Mr Bruce's shot do go
to ? ' — he could not conceive so much lead being dis-
persed in the atmosphere without a more adequate
result. This want of dexterity, too, was thrown into
strong relief that day ; for all the other men, putting
mj^self out of the question, were rare masters of the
art. -""^
Livingstone headed the list, though Fallowfield ran
him hard. He got the most shots, indeed ; for his
knowledge of the woods and great strength, enabled
him always to keep close to the spaniels. He was a
sight to marvel at, as he went crashing through
bramble and blackthorn, with a long even stride, just
as if he had been walking through light springs.
At the end of the day we were all assembled out-
side the cover, where the game was being counted,
except Bruce, who was still in the wood. A stray
shot every now and then gave notice of his approach.
* "We heard but the distant and random gun,
That the foe was sullenly firing,'
Guy quoted, laughing.
'.Eandom ! — you may say that,' remarked Fallow-
field. ' That man ought to be in a glass case, and
ticketed : he's a natural curiosity. His bag to-day
consists of one hare, one hen, and one — sex unknown,
for no one saw it rise or tried to pick it up ; it was
blown into a cloud of feathers withia six feet of his
GUT Ln^T^GSTONE. 113
muzzle. Ilere lie comes ; don't ask him what he's
done — it's cruelty.''
Bruce came up to us, looking rather more discon-
tented than usual, but not nearly so savage as tho
keeper who had attended him all day, who immedi-
ately retreated among his fellows to relieve himself,
by many oaths, of his suppressed disgust and scorn.
They offered him beer, but it was no use. I heard
liim growl out, ' That there muff's enough to spile
one's taste for a fort nit.'
It was the hour of the wood-pigeons coming in to
roost, and several were wheeling over our heads at a
considerable height.
* There's something for you to empty your gun at,
Bruce,' Mr Eajonond said, pointing to one that came
rather nearer than the rest.
He was levelling, when Forrester cried out, ' Five-
and-twenty to five on the bird ! '
* Done ! -' answered Bruce, as he pulled the trigger.
It was a long and not very easy shot, but the pigeon
came whirling down through the branches with a
broken pinion.
* You are unlucky in your selection. Captain For-
rester,' the successful shot remarked coolly. ' You
might have won a heav}^ stake by laying the same
odds all day.'
*It serves you right,' interposed Guy, * for speaking
to a man on his shot. Don't you remember quar-
114 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
relling witli me, the other day, for doing so, Charlc}^?*
Charley's face of perplexity and disgust was irre-
sistible. We all laughed. * What a gwr/?ion I have ! '
he said. * Mr Raymond, I believe you were in the
robber3\'
* JN^ot I,' was the answer. * I was as much surprised
as any one. I think,' he went on, lowering his tone,
* Guy is right ; he changed his aim as j^ou spoke, in.-
voluntarih', or he 77ii(st have missed.'
Then we turned homewards, through the twilight.
I do not know if the reminiscence of his lost ' pony '
was rankling in Forrester's mind, or if he was only
affected by the presence of Sir Ilenry Fallowfield — an
immoral Upas, under whose shadow the most flourish-
ing of good resolutions were apt to wither and die ; but
certaLDly, after dinner, he broke through the cautious
reserve which he had alwa3'S in public maintained
towards Miss Raymond since Brucc's arrival. lie not
only talked to her inccssantl}^, but tempted her to sing
with him, during whict performance they seemed
rapidly lapsing into the old confidential style.
Bruce sat apart, the shades on his rugged face
gradually deepening from sullenness into ferocity ; ho
looked quite wolfish at last, for it was a habit he had
to show his white teeth more when he was savage than
when he smiled. But the music went on its way re*
joicing,
Unconscious of their doom,
The little victims played,
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 115
Isabel was too happy, and Charley too careless to
be prudent. Once I caught his glance as it crossed
■wdth Bruce's scowl. There v/as an expression on his
pleasant face that few men had ever seen there, ap-
proaching nearly to an insolent defiance. Looking at
those two, a child might have known that between
them there was bitter hate.
But what of that ? Are not the laws of society and
the amenities of civilized life supreme over such trifles
as personal animosities ? How many women are there
who never meet ^yithout mingling in a close embrace,
when each is to the other a Brin\aLliers in heart ? My
gentle cousin Kate, only last night I saw you greet
your intimate enemy. It was the most gusliing thing
I ever imagined. The kisses were profuse and tanta-
lizing in the extreme ; yet I wis, if tlioughts could
kill, dearest Emma's neck would have been safer in
the hug of a Norway bear than in the clasp of your
white willowy arms.
Are there not men, sitting constantly at each other's
tables, who, in the Golden age, when people spoke
and acted as they felt, would only have encountered
at the sword's point ?
If we hear that our mortal foe is ruined irretriev-
ably, we betray no indecorous exultation, but smile
complacently, and say, ' we are not surprised ; ' or, if
we have the chance, give him a last push to send him
over the precipice on whose brink he is staggering.
116 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
But as for any violent demonstration — ball ! the
Vendetta is going out of fasliion, even in Corsica,
now-a-days ; only on the boards of the * Princess's '
does it have a run.
It is better so. Is it not far more creditable and
less ridicidous, for two of our reverend seniors, be-
tween whom there exists a deadly feud, to comport
themselves ydih decent reserve towards each other,
than to go vapouring about on crutches, stamping
the foot that is not gouty, and blaspheming in a wealc,
cracked treble, like Capulet and Montague ? Hot
rooms and cold draughts are dangerous, but not so
fatal as the Aqua Tofana, and other pleasant bever-
ages more revolting and rapid in their effects. Could
anything be more harrowing to a well-regulated mind
than to see, in the midst of a neatly -turned compK-
ment, one's partner literally look Hack at one, and
expire incontinently in great torments ?
It is less romantic, but I prefer to be given an un-
medicated rose. When I win a pair of gloves, it is a
satisfaction to me to reflect that in Iloubigant or
rivert there is no venom or guile.
All these consoling thoughts, and more, passed
through my mind that evening ; yet I could not get
rid of a strange, indistinct impression that it was only
tlie presence of Livingstone which averted some great
dano^er imminent over his cousin and Forrester.
117
CHAPTEH XIII.
This is all
The gain we reap, from all the wisdom sown
Through ages. Nothing doubted those first sons
Of time ; while we, the schoord of centuries,
Nothing believe .
We were scattered round tlie smoking-room, about
midnight, in different attitudes of repose. Bruce was
of the party, decidedly out of his element. He did
not like tobacco much, and only took a cigar as a
sacrifice to the exigences of the occasion, consuming
the same with great toil and exertion of the lungs,
and when he removed it from his lips, holding it at
arm's length, like a viper or other venomous beast.
* Charley,' asked Fallowfield, at length, from the
depths of his divan, * how is the regiment going on ?
Insolvent as ever ? '
' More so,' was the reply. * When I came away
they were thinking of framing a £5 note, and hanging
it up in the ante-room, to show that we had so7Jie
money — ^just like the man who pitched loaves over
the xity- walls when they were dying of famine— but
there was a difficulty about procuring one. However
118 Gl'Y LIVINGSTONE.
we have been promised the son of an opulent brewer
or distiller (I forget which, but I know he makes
something to drink), who is to join before Easter.
Perhaps he may set us afloat again.*
* Yes ! * Guy remarked ; * fortunately a martial
spirit is abroad in the Third Estate. Walhrook s'en
va fen guerre. If there is one moneyed man in the
lot, it seems sufficient to keep the others going. I
often wonder how you manage ; for, to do you justice,
you don't plunder your Croesus. You deserve statues
— as Sydney Smith would have said — certs alieni.^
* I am not the rose, but I have lived with her,' re-
sponded Forrester, sententiously. * That's the prin-
ciple of the thing. TVTien a subaltern arrives laden
with gold, the barrack-yard is a perfect garden of
Bendemeer to the tradesmen.'
* I believe it is precisely such regiments, remarked
Bruce, ' that the political economists have in view
when they attack the army estimates.'
The observation was aggressive ; but Charley's
countenance was unruffled as the Dead Sea, as he
answered — * Personal, but correct. You are intimate
with Joseph Hume, probably ? You look as if you
were.' (These last words were a stage aside ; not
quite so inaudible as could be wished.) *I think we
should fight, if we had a chance, though.'
His lip wore a cui'ious smile, and he raised himself
on his arm to look the last speaker full in the face.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 119
' Of coui'se you would/ broke in Sir Henry ; ' tliat^s
not a peculiarity of crack regiments or second sons.
It's only in their baptism of fire that tbe young ones
sbrink and start; after that, the meekest of men
develop themselves wonderfully, I heard an old
Indian, the other day, speak of a case in point.
* There was an officer in his service, mild and stupid
to a degree. He had been a butt aU his Kfe ; bullied
at school, at Addiscombe, and in his corps worst of all.
' They were attacking a hill-fort, and the fire from
wall-pieces and matchlocks was so heavy that the
storming party would not face it. Amongst those who
retreated were two of his superior officers and chief
tormentors. The junior Keutenant saw them cower-
ing away to seek shelter, and laughed out loud ; then
he flung his shako before him into the fort, and led the
sepoys back to the charge, and right over the breast-
work — bare-headed and cheering. He was shot down
inside, and lived only a few hours, all the time in
horrible agony ; but Western told us that Bayard or
Sidney could have made no braver or calmer ending.'
* You are right,' Livingstone said. * The Round-
heads fought fully as well as the Cavaliers. I only
know of two instances where the thoroughbreds had
the advantage of a contrast. One was when the
Scottish regiment took the Island in the Hhino ; the
other was the exploit of the Gants Glaces. Don't you
know it ? It's worth hearing.
120 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
They were attacking some town in tLc wars of the
Fronde. The breach was scarcely practicable, and the
best of the besieging army had recoiled from it with
great loss. The Black Mousquetaires stood by in all
the coquetry of scarf, and plume, and fringed scented
gloves, laughing louder at each repulse of the Lines-
men. The soldiers heard them and gnashed their
teeth. At last there was a murmur, and then a shout
— " En avant ies Gants Gluces I " They wanted to see
" the swells " beaten too. Then the Household Brigade
went up and carried the breach, leaving a third of
their number on it. The general in command made
the whole army defile past their guidon, and salute it
with sloped standards.
' 'No ! very few men are physical cowards in battle,
whatever they may be across country. I don't be-
lieve Paris was, when he ran from Menclaus ; and
Helen did not think so, though she teased him about
it, or she would never have spoken to him again. I
rather imagine his feeling was that of a certain guards-
man of our acquaintance, who said, declining the
ordeal of combat, that "his first duty was to his
partners, and this did not allow hun to risk a black
eye.'"
' Might not remorse at the sight of the man he had
injured have had something to do with his flight ? *
Bruce asked.
He was full of moral sentiments — that man. Only
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 121
you could not look at him without fancying that they
sprang more from an inclination to be contradictious
and disagreeable, than from any depth of principle.
* Absurd/ Guy retorted. * Wasn't he a heathen,
and rather an immoral one ? It was of profligates with
far greater advantages of education that some one
said : — " Le remords nait de Vahandon, et non de la
fautey The walls of Troy were strong then, and the
Destroy er-of-ships safe behind them; "getting her-
self up alarmingly" for his return. I^o wonder
Menelaiis was eager for the duel : he was staking his
loneliness against Paris' nine points of the law.'
Sir Henry Fallowfleld smiled approvingly.
* Yes ! ^ he observed ; not answering what had been
said, but evidently following out a train of his own
thought. ' Modern exquisites have courage, and self-
possession, and conceit — great elements of success
with women, I own — but they have not much more.
I am certain, Charlej^, who is a favourable specimen
of the class, often affects silence because he has nothing
on earth to say. There is a decadence since my
younger days (I hope I speak dispassionately), and how
very far we feU short of the roues of the Eegence ! "We
could no more match them than a fighting-man in good
training could stand up to one of the old Pict giants.
Look at EicheHeu : good at all points, — in the battle,
in the boudoir, in the Bastille, — a dangerous rival at the
two ages of ordinary men's first and second childhood.
122 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
' He was a great man in Ms way/ I assented. * Do
you remember his answer to the Duchesse de Maine,
when she asked him, for a political purpose, if he could
remain faithful for one week to an intrigue then twenty-
four hours old ? — " Madame, quand une fois f emhrasse
im parti, je suis capable des plus grandes sacrifices
2)0ur le soutenir.'^ The object of that heroic constancy
was the Marechale de YiUars, one of the loveliest women
in France. It was the sublime of fatuity — was it not ? *
* Well, I don't know,' said Charley, settling him-
self comfortably in his cushions, and glancing almost
imperceptibly at Bruce ; * they seem to fancy us not-
withstanding. We have only one great obstacle,—
the mothers that hore us.'
Be it known that * they,* used simply, stood in his
vocabulary for the fair sex in general.
' Nonsense,' replied Fallowfield ; don't be so un-
grateful. You don't know what you owe to those
anxious parents. It helps you enormously, being the
objects of perpetual warnings from husbands and
chaperons ; the first considering you mauvais szijets,
the last mauvais partis ; for you are ^'detrimentals,"
for the most part, you wiU own.'
* Vctitum ergo cupitum,^ interrupted Livingstone.
* A good many moralists before and since old Rabelais
have discoursed on that text. The Chief of Errington
was probably much more agreeable, besides being a
better match, than Jock of Ilazeldean, who, clcarl} was
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 12'3
what an old Frenchman lately described to me — " un
vaurien, mon clier^ qui court les Jilles et qui n^a pas le
son.'* But then poor Frank was the goyernment
candidate, so, of course, in a popular election, he went
to the wall.*
Sir Henry's face grew more pensive and grave, as he
said, * It is very hard on the women, certainly, that
our race should have degenerated so ; for I believe in
my conscience they are as clever and wicked, and
appreciate temptation as much as ever.' (The gusto
with which he said this is indescribable.) * There is
the Bellasys, for instance, with a calculating sensuality,
an astuteness of stratagem, an utter contempt of truth,
and a general aptitude for making fools of men, that
poor Philip the Eegent would have worshipped. When
she had no one better to corrupt, I have seen her take
in hand an older, sadder, wiser, uglier man than my-
self, and in three days bring him to the verge of in-
sanity ; so that he would scowl at his wife, his com-
panion for forty years, the blameless mother of six
grown-up children, with a hideous expression indica-
tive of carving-knives and strychnine. Guy suits her
best. Ilis thews and sinews awe her a little some-
times ; and he has a certain hardness of character and
pitilessness of purpose, improved by my instructions,
which will carry him far, but not far enough, I think.
You're right not to look flattered ' (Guy's face had
moved no more than the marble Memnon's) ; * you
124 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
are only a shade better than the rest. Our effete
world is not worthy of that rare creature : she wa8
born a century too late.'
' I quite differ with you/ Bruce said, in his harshest
voice ; * I am certain the great plurality of the women
of our day would resist any temptation, from fear of
the consequences, if not from principle.'
Fancy the feelings of the Greek Professor interrupted
in his lecture by a controverting freshman, and you
will have some idea of Fallowfield's. His eye lighted
on the last speaker, glittering like a hooded snake's,
as it were caressing him with a lambent scorn.
I never guessed how much sneering provocation
could reside in tones usually so very soft and musical,
till I heard him answer, * I suppose you do differ with
me. We probably both speak from experience. On
one point you are scarcely practical, though. You
think you can frighten a woman into propriety.
Try it.'
* Are you not too general in your strictures or
encomiums ? * I suggested, wishing to relieve the
awkwardness which ensued ; ' surely there are many
instances to the contrary. Take Lady Clanronald,
for instance, married to a man her elder by twenty
years, and not very clever or agreeable, I should
think. No one ever breathed a whisper against her,
and it has not been through default of aspirants.*
An evil smile curled round the old roue^s sensual
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 125
mouth, radiating even to tlie verge of the forest of his
iron-grey whiskers.
* Clanronald not clever ? ' he replied. ' The cleverest
man I know. He knew how his wife would be
tempted, and he has taken the greatest pains to en-
courage a counteracting influence — family pride.
Don't you know she was a Hautagne ? It is a tradi-
tion with that race that their women never go wrong
— ^under a Prince of the Blood. None of these are
available just now ; so she is still " Une Madeleine
dans la puissance de son mari, et dam Vimpuissance de
se repentir" '
It was worse than useless to argue with Fallowfield.
All your own best hits were turned aside by the target
of his cynicism and unbelief, while his sophistries and
sarcasms often came home. Like old wounds, they
would begin to shoot and rankle in after years, just
when it was most important and profitable to forget
them.
"We separated soon after this. Sir Henry's face
wore an expression of placid self-congratulation. He
thought the conversation had been rather improving,
I believe, and that some of the ideas and illustrations
had been rather neatly put ; so he laid his head down
that night with the calm satisfied feeling of a good
man who has done his duty, and not lost a day.
He was not more ingenious in overcoming the
scruples of others than in silencing his own con-
126 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
science ; thougli, of late years, this last had probably
ceased to give him much trouble. Finer feelings
with him were only * sensations morbidly exag-
gerated ; * and he made no sort of allowance for such ;
amongst others, utterly ignoring remorse. I doubt
if he ever looked forward ; I am sure he never looked
back. A parody on the ' tag ' which was given to
Cambronne, would sum up his terribly simple and
consistent creed — La jemme se rend, mats ne meurt
pas.
IV
CHAPTER Xiy.
I hold him but a fool, that would endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not.
I'allowfield left us tlie next raorning ; tlie Bellasys
later in the same day. They were to pay divers visits
and then return to Kerton. Lady Catherine pressed
them to do so ; though she liked the daughter less
than the mother, she was so anxious Guy should
marry some one, that I think she would have accepted
even Flora with thankfulness.
It is a favourite delusion with the British parent
that matrimony will work a miracle, and steady their
children for life, by casting forth the luHns who beset
them. A thousand failures have not convinced the
good speculative matrons of the hazard of the experi-
ment ; nor will as many more do so ; they will go on
match-making and blundering to the end of time. For
a very brief space the evil spirits are exorcised ; but
before the gloss is off the new-married couple's new
furniture, one of the band creeps back and opens the
door to his fellows. These hardly know their old
quarters at first, but they soon begin to like them
128 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
better than ever — are they not swept and garnished ?
' So they enter in and dwell there, and ' — I need not
finish the sentence ; a thousand sweet though some-
what shrill voices will save me that trouble — a doleful
music — an ancient tale of wrong — the Song of tlie
Brides ! They used to say that a man never went so
hard to hounds after entering the holy estate. If
this be so, I fear it is the only comforting result which
follows of course.
What Flora and Guy said to each other at parting
I cannot guess. Neither was of the sentimental order,
and both might have taken for their motto, ' Lightly
won and lightly lost.' Her hand lingered somewhat
long in his as they said farewell ; but she was smiling,
if anything, more saucily than ever. So she went,
leaving behind her no tangible token, except a tiny
pearl-coloured glove, which Guy twisted rather pen-
sively between his fingers, as ho stood on the hall-
steps and watched the carriage disappear down the
avenue. Mr Bruce exulted, after his saturnine fashion,
and Isabel Raymond trembled ; the one had lost a
strong unscrupulous ally, the other a formidable enemy.
* Why don't you open those letters, Charley ? *
Livingstone asked at breakfast, next morning, point-
ing to a pile that lay unopened by the latter's plate.
* My dear boy, I haven't the heart to do it,' was
the reply. *They are aU expressive, I know, of
different phases of mercantile despair. I believe these
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 129
men keep a Supplicant, as Moses maintains a Poet.
The last appeal from my saddler was perfectly heart-
rending : he could not have written it himself, for he
looks as tough as his own pig- skin. If he had, he
would be impayahle in more ways than one. "WTiat
can I do ? I can^t come down on the poor old man
who has the misfortune to be my father for more sup-
plies, when rents are being reduced fifteen per cent.
The tradesmen must learn to endure. They have a
splendid chance of attaining the Yictory of Sufiering.*
Bruce smiled complacently to himself, and then
superciliously at Charley. He had just received a
letter iVom his banker, consulting him as to the dis-
posal of a superfluous thousand or so, and he was
hesitating between some dock shares and a promising
railway.
* Yes,' Forrester went on, * it's very well for you
to talk ia that hardened way, as you did the other
night, about detrimentals and second sons. I wonder
how you would Hke to have an elder brother, a piUar
of learned societies, and as tenacious of life as one of
his pet zoophytes ? He used to consume quantities of
medicine, which was encouraging ; but lately he has
taken to homoeopathy, which was quite out of the
match. He told me, lately, that " four hundred a
year and my pay was affluence.'' Affluence ! '
It is impossible to describe the cadence of plaintive
indignation which he gave to the last word. The re-
130 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
collection of his wrongs had made him almost ener-
getic ; we listened to his eloquence in respectful
surprise.
' It was adding insult to injury/ answered Guy.
If parliament does not do something for you all soon,
there will be another exodus of the Parthenidae.
Charley looked at his friend admiringly, as he
always did when Guy was classical in his allusions ;
but the im wonted effort had evidently exhausted him,
and he lapsed into silence.
"VYe rode out that afternoon to make some calls in
the neighbourhood, and, in returning, Livingstone
proposed a short cut through a line of gates, with
a short interval of cross-country work.
His cousin looked delighted — Bruce decidedly un-
comfortable ; though, of course, he could not refuse.
He was riding Kathleen, an Irish mare, one of the
quietest in the Kerton stable, where none were very
steady. The fences were nothing at first ; at last we
came to a brook. It was not broad, but evidently
deep, with high, rotten banks. However, as we were
going at a ihir hunting pace, all, including Bella
Donna and her mistress, took it in their stride, but
pulled up at once, seeing that Bruce was left behind,
with the groom who was following us.
The first time he came at it, it was a clear case of
* craning.* He was hauling nervously at the reins,
and v>'ould not let the mare have it.
4
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 131
Guy regarded him with, intense contempt. *By
G — d ! * he muttered ; * I beKeve the man*s afraid ! *
Forrester laughed so unrestrainedly, that Isabel
looked at him beseechingly, in evident dread of tho
consequences.
* My dear Miss Icayjiond,' he said, answering her
frightened glance, * don't alarm yourself. Do you
think I am a Quixote, to war with windmills ? '
1^0 one could look at Bruce's long arms and legs,
all working at once, without owning the aptness of
the simile.
For the third time he came down at the brook,
and, I really believe, meant going ; but Kathleen,
unused to such vacillating measures, had got sulky,
and swerved on the very brink, almost sliding over
it. Her rider lost his seat^ rolled over her shoulder,
and for an instant disappeared in the water.
Achelous or Tiber, emerging from his native waves,
crowned with aquatic plants, presented, I doubt not,
an appearance at once dignified and becoming ; but
I defy any ordinary non -amphibious mortal to look,
under similar circumstances, anything but supremely
ridiculous. The wrathful face framed in dripping
hair and plastered whiskers — the movements of the
limbs, awkward and constrained — the rivulets dis-
tilling from every salient angle, turning the victim
into a walking Lauterbrunnen — when we saw all these
absurdities exaggerated before us, no wonder that
132 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
from the whole party, including the groom, there
broke ' unnumbered laughters.'
f * Curse the mare ! ' Bruce hissed out. The words
came crushed and broken, as it were, through the
white ranges of his griuding teeth.
Li\ingstone's face hardened directly. * Swear as
much as you think the cii'cumstances require, or as my
cousin will allow,' he said ; * but be just before you're
generous — don't anathematize Kathleen. It was no
faidt of hers. I never saw her refuse before ; but she
is used to be put straight at her fences. Hold her still,
Harry ' (to the groom on' the fui-ther side, who had
caught the mare's rein), * I'll ride her at it myself.'
He threw his bridle to Forrester, and, dismounting,
cleared the brook at a boimd. Then he went up to
Kathleen, and began to coax her with voice and hand.
' I'll bet an even fifty he takes her over the first
time,' said Charley.
Bruce nodded his head, without speaking, to show
that he took the bet. I thought he had the best of
it, for the mare was so savage and sulky still that a
refusal seemed a certainty.
Guy had mounted by this time, and, after taking a
wide sweep in the field, came down at the brook.
Kathleen was curling her back up, and going short,
with the most evident intention of balking ; but
swerving was next to impossible, for she was fairly
held in a vice by her rider's hands and knees. The
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 133
whip fell, heavily twice on either shoulder, and, just
at the water's edge, Livingstone drove his heels in
and lifted her. It was almost a standing leap, and
as Kathleen landed, a great fragment of the bank
went crashing into the water from under her hind
hoofs, and she was do^ra on her head ; but Guy re-
covered her cleverly, and, turning again, sent her over
twice, backwards and forwards. The first time, the
mare did not try to refuse again, but rushed at it, snort-
ing wrathfiilly, with her head in the air ; the second,
she was quite tamed, and took it evenly in her stride.
' Give Mr Bruce your horse, Harry, and take the
Czar,' Guy said. * I'll ride Kathleen home. Steady,
old lady, don't fret. We are friends again now.'
' So you have got your pony back ? ' I remarked to
Forrester.
* Yes, and with interest,' was the quiet reply. * I
don't think he will owe me much when I have done
with him.'
Though I had nothing on earth to do with it, I felt
something like compunction, as I guessed what he
meant.
Bruce's was a hard, money-loving nature, imro-
mantio to a degree ; but I believe he would gladly
have waked to find himself a houseless, landless beg-
gar, if he could thus have regained what Charley,
with his soft voice and eyes and manner, had stolen
from him long ago.
134 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
Am I right in saying * stolen ' ? Perliaps he never
had it ; at all events he thought he had, which comes
to nearly the same thing.
It is true that, unravelling the cord of a man's
existence, you will generally find the blackest hank
in it twined by a w^oman's hand ; but it is not less
common to trace the golden thread to the same spindle.
Great warrior, profound statesman, stanch cham-
pion of liberty as he was, without Edith of the Swan's-
neck, Harold would scarcely have risen into a hero of
romance. We do not quite despise Charles YII. when
we think how faithfully, in loneliness and ruin, the
Lady of Beauty loved her apathetic, senseless, dis-
crowned KiQg. Others never foimd it out ; but there
must have been something precious hid in a dark
corner of the wayward heart, near which Agnes
nestled so long. "We look leniently on Otho — parasite
and profligate — when we see him lingering on his
last march, on the very verge of the death-struggle,
in the teeth of Galba's legions, to decorate PoppEca's
grave. More in pity than in scorn, to be sure, did
Tacitus, the historic epigrammatist, WTite — ' Ne turn
quidem veterum hnmetnor amorum.*
Was it in remorseful consciousness of having in-
flicted a deep irreparable wrong, that Isabel rode so
constantly by Bruce's side, stri\dng, by all means of
timid propitiation, to chase the cloud lowering on his
sullen face, as we returned slowly home ?
135
CHAPTER XV.
To Si TrpoKXveiy,
'Rirei ykvoLT dv i'/Xymg, TrpoxaiptTia'
'laov ck Ti^ TvpoaTsveiVj
Topbv yap i]^ei avvopBpov avyaiQ.
My stay at Kerton Manor was drawing to a close. I
had lingered there too long already, and letters from
neglected relatives and friends came, reproachful,
with every post. The day before I went, Guy called
me into his study.
* Frank,' he said, * I am in a great strait of per-
plexity ; my uncle has been attacking me this morn-
ing about Isabel and Charle^^ Bruce puts him up
to it, of course.'
* I thought it would come ; but why on earth did
not Bruce speak to you, if not to Forrester himself ?
Perhaps it was fVom delicacy though. Let us hope so.'
* How philanthropic we are ! ' Guy retorted. ' I
don't believe any other man would have spoken of
delicacy and that rough-hewn log of Scotch fir in the
same breath. My dear boy, the thing is as simple as
possible — the man is a coward. He is as careful of
that precious person of his, as if it were worth pre-
K
136 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
serving ; so he shoots his arrows from behind Uncle
Henry's Telamonian shield. Nothing is so acute and
right-judging as the instinct of fear. He knows that
if he had a fancy for a quarrel, either Charley or I
would be too happy to indulge him.'
* He can't be such a dastard/ I said.
* I am sure of it ; but he is not the less dangerous
for that. Such men are always the most unscrupulous
in revenge. I have seen murder ia his eyes a score
of times in the last fortnight. If our lines had fallen
in the pleasant Italian places, he would have invested
twenty scudi long ago in hiring a dagger. As it is,
civilization and the rural police stand our friends ;
but I have strongly advised Charley not to trust him-
self near him in cover. By G — d ! I think, for once
in his life, he would hold straight ! '
* You donH Like him, that's evident.'
The pupils of Livingstone's eyes contracted omin-
ously ; a lurid flash shot out from under his black,
bent brows, and there came on his lip that peculiar
smile that we fancy on the face of Homeric heroes —
more fell, and cruel, and terrible than even their own
frown — just before they levelled the spear. He laid
his broad hand, corded across iivdth a net-work of
tangled sinews, on the table before him, and the stout
oak creaked and trembled.
* If I were to strangle him,* he said, * as I constantly
feel tempted to do, I believe I should deserve well of the
GUY LIVINGSTONE. Ir37
State. But witli all that, I don't like plotting against
him under my own roof ; it strikes me that is a phase
of hospitality not strictly Arabian. My mother
laments over him already, as hardly dealt with. Then
Uncle Henry is a great difficulty. He is not in the
least one of the light comedy fathers who, during two
acts, stamps about with many strange oaths and
stormy denials, but in the last yields to fate and
soiibrettes, says, * Bless you, my children ! ' and hands
out untold gold. There is no more appeal from his
decisions than from Major A 's. He dislikes
Bruce, of course ; but he would just as soon think of
objecting to a partner at whist as to a son-in-law,
because he happened to be unprepossessing. When
the poor Kttle Iphigenia is sacrificed on the shrine of
expediency, you will see him, not veiling his face,
but taking snuff with the calm grace that is peculiar
to him. Arguing with such a man is a simple
absurdity.*
* I cannot advise you,^ I answered, sadly ; ' but it
seems hard on Miss Eaymond, too.'
' Of course it is,* Livingstone broke in ; * and the
worst of it is, the poor child looks to me to help her.
I can't bear to think of what her life would be if she
married Bruce. He would be constantly retaliating
on her for what he is suffering now — for he does
suffer. A pleasant idea that she, who is only meant
to be petted, should be set up as a target for his
138 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
jealousy and ill-hiunoiir ! She woiild never be able lo
stand it, and Charley wouldn't if she could ; and then
there would be a denouement like that which ruined
Balph Mohun. If there is to be a row, it had better
come before than after marriage. It's more moral,
and saves an infinity of trouble. I think Charley is
better away, too, just now. Parndon wants us both to
stay with him. "We'll go ; and so my conscience will
stand at ease for the present. When we are on neutral
ground I can help them ; or, at all events, " let the
justice of the king pass by." '
f * Have you spoken to Forrester yet ? '
* No ! but he will do as I advise, and temporize, I
am sure ; though he would hardly give up Bella, even
if I asked him. He means business, for once, evi-
dently. They will have plenty of time to concert
their plans before the summer. Charley wants no
help in that. As to carrying them out — we shall sec.
"Well ! you will go to-morrow. I am very sorry, for
aU reasons. I hope you have not been much bored
here. Kerton counts on you for next winter.'
I need not give my answer. I Mt really loth to
go ; but, fortunately for my peace of mind, I could
not guess at the changes that would be wrought in
the hopes, the intentions, the destinies of all of us,
before I should stand in the fine old manor-house
again.
If adieus are painful in reality, they are intensely
GUY LI\^NGSTONE. 139
stupid on paper — a landscape without a foreground —
60 I spare you next morning's leave-takings.
Guy had said nothing to his cousin then of the plan
he had determined on. I was glad of it. I was glad
not to see, at parting, her sweet face so sad as, I am
sure it became, when she heard that she was to strug-
gle against Bruce's persecutions and her own anti-
pathies, unaided and alone.
I wandered through many counties, and then wont
to Ireland. Dm-ing the next few months I saw tho
faces I had left behind me many times, but only in
my dreams.
140
CHAPTER XYI.
The only living thing he could not hate
"Was reft at once — and he deserved his fate,
But did not feel it less ; — the good explore
For peace, these realms where guilt can never soar ;
The proud — the wayward — who have fixed below
Their joy, and find this earth enough for woe,
Lose in that one their all — perchance a mite —
But who in patience parts with all delight ?
Pleasant days they were, when, through the soft
spring weather, I wandered round the coasts of Kerry,
Clare, and Galway ; hooking sahnon in broad pools,
where the vexed water rests awhile from its labours
under wooded cliffs, and at the tail of roaring rapids,
specked with white foam-clots ; or sea-trout, in the
estuaries where the great rivers hurry down to their
stormy meeting with the Atlantic rollers.
Ever3nvhere I met the frank cheery welcome that
you must cross the Channel to find in its perfection.
It is sad to see how widely over that fair land the
abomination of desolation has cast its shadow. Many
halls are tenantless besides those of Tara. The
ancient owners of the soil — where are they ? Not a
country in Europe but is conscious of these restless,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 141
careless, homeless Zingari. In distant provincial
towns of France, you hear their enormous blunders
in grammar, and musical Milesian brogue, breaking
the uniformity of dull legitimist soirees. Homburg
and Baden are irradiated with the glory of their
whiskers. You find their blue eyes and open hand-
some features diversifyiag the sameness of wooden-
faced Austrian squadrons. IN'ayl has it not been
whispered that the proudest name in Ireland attained
a bad eminence in. the Grecian Archipelago, as the
captain of the wickedest of those long low craft that,
in the purple dawn or ivory moonlight, steal silently
out from behind the headlands of the Cyclades ?
But let us do justice to those who remain behind.
The sceptre of Connemara has passed away from
the ancient dynasty. If the penultimate monarch
could rise from his peaceful grave, his place would
know him. no more. If he travelled through all his
thirty miles of sea-board, the Scotch labourers would
doff their hats more respectfully to the steward of the
* Law Life,' than to the humane old homicide. The
royal writ, which he defied from his place at St
Stephen's, might be served now, I imagine, without
danger of the bailiff's breaking his fast on the same.
Claret flows soberly from long-necked bottles whose
corks bear the brand of the wine -merchant high
priced and legal, instead of from the cask of which
the snug sandy cove and the roguish-looking hooker
142 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
could have told tales. But in spite of visionary rents,
and poor-rates sternly real, the Irish squii-e still clings
to the exercise of that hospitality which has been
an heirloom with the Tribes since the days of Strong-
bow.
One of my longest halting places was at Ralph
Mohun's, by whom, though personally unknown to
him, I was made very welcome, as a friend of Guy's.
My host deserves a more especial mention, for his
history was a sad, though not an uncommon one.
He began life in a cavalry regiment, wherein he
conducted himself mth fair average propriety, till
he met Lady Caroline Desborough. He fell in love
\Wth her — most people did, — but unluckily, when she
married Mr Mannering, to whom she had been pre-
destined since her debut, he could not bring himself
to wear the \^dllow decently and in order, like her
other disappointed admirers.
It was the old unhappy story : her husband neg-
lected Lady Caroline consistently; ill-treated her
sometimes. Mohun pursued his purpose with the
relentless obstinacy of his character. Eighteen months
after her marriage they fled together.
lie was not rich ; so that the trial which ensued,
with its heavy damages, completely crippled him.
The partner of his crime was absolutely penniless.
They went to Vienna ; and Ralph entered the Aus-
trian cuirassiers, where he had some interest to push
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 143
him. He had lingered some time within reach of
England, to give Mannering an opportunity of de-
manding satisfaction. But the injured husband knew
his man too well to trust himself within fifteen paces
of Mohun's pistol. He chose a surer, safer revenge,
in taking no steps to procure a divorce, and so debar-
ring Ralph from his only means of atonement — mar-
riage with his victim.
He varied the dull routine of seducers, it is true ;
for he never wearied of, or behaved unkindly to, the
woman he had ruined. Time brought many troubles
on them, but never satiety or coolness. To the very
last he worshipped, and, to the utmost of his power,
guarded her tenderly. Bough and hard and morose
as he was to others, she never heard his lips utter one
harsh word.
But she was of a proud, sensitive spirit, and had
miscalculated her strength when she thought she could
bear dishonour. After that duel with which Austria
rang, in which the best schlager in his brigade fell,
horribly mangled, the day after he had whispered a
jest about Caroline Mannering, men were very cautious
how they even looked askance at her ; but the women
— who could bridle their tongu-es, or blunt their
scornful glances ? Briareus, armed to the teeth, would
not afiright our modern dowagers, or deter them from
their prey. Wherever the carcass of a fair fame Hes,
thither they fiock, screaming shrilly in triumph,
144 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
vultoi'e-eyed, sharp-taloned — tlie Choosers of the
Slain.
I pity from my heart the frailest, the most utterly
falleu of her sex, when once the social Nemesis hands
her over to the chorus of the Eumenides.
We deride the suhsignance who line the wall ; we
make a mock at their old-fashioned whist ; we risk
jokes whereat our partners smile approvingly on their
false fronts and wonderful head-gears ; but may the
wittiest of us never know by experience how much
worse is the bite than the bark of the Veteran bat-
talion !
Caroline Mannering had all this to contend with,
ibr Vienna was a favourite resort in those days for
the English, and she was constantly encountering
some of her old set. She bore up bravely for a
while, but it killed her. She never wearied her lover
with her self-reproach, but crushed back her sorrows
iuto her heart, and met him always "with a gentle
smile. That same smile contrasted so sadly, at last,
■with the wan, worn features, that it often made him
bend his bushy brows to conceal the rising tears.
If her destiny had been different ; if she had died
ripe in years, after a life spent in calm matronly hap-
piness, with all that she loved best round her, would
she have been nursed so tenderly, or moui-ned so bit-
terly, by the nearest and dearest of them aU, as she
was by her tempter to sin ? I think not. I believe
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 145
that in all tlie world there never was a greater sorrow
than that which Mohun endured, as he saw his
treasure slowly escaping him ; never a desolation more
complete and crushing than that which fell upon him
as he stood by her corpse, with dry eyes, folded arms,
and a heavy, frowning brow. It was not only that he
felt her place could never be filled again — ^many feel
that, and find it turn out so — ^but a part of his being
was gone : all that was soft, and kind, and tender in
his nature died with Caroline Mannering. He never
could get rid of a certain chivalry which was inherent
in him, so sometimes he would do a generous thing ;
but he did it so harshly as to deprive the act of the
semblance of good-nature. I think he very seldom
again felt sympathy or compassion for any living
creature. Perhaps he thought the world had behaved
hardly to his dead love ; and so never forgave it. She
passed away very stilly and painlessly. She was
leaning on his breast when he saw death come into
her eyes ; he shivered then all over, as if a cold wind
had struck him suddenly, but spoke no word. She
understood him though. Her last motion was to draw
his cheek down to hers with her thin, shadowy arm ;
and her last breath went up to the God who would
judge them both, in an unselfish prayer.
* She was rightly served,' says Cornelia ; ' such
women ought to be miserable.*
rigid mother of the Gracchi ! how we all respect
146 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
you, trdnante in tlie comfortable cathedra of virtue
inexpugnable, perhaps unassailed ! Your dictum
must stand for the present. The Court is with you.
But I believe other balances will weigh the strength
of temptation, the weakness of human endurance, the
sincerity of repentance, and the extent of suffered re-
tribution, when the Father of all that have lived and
erred since the world began shall make up His jewels.
In that day, I think, the light of many orthodox vir-
gins and dignified matrons Vill pale before the softer
lustre of Magdalene the Saint.
Mohun remained in the Austrian service some time
after Caroline Mannering's death, and, by dint of good
ser^HLce and interest, rose rapidly : but, about eight
years before I saw him, a distant relation left him the
estate in the west of Ireland, where he had resided
ever since, making occasional visits to the Continent,
and beating up his old quarters, but rarely coming to
England.
He did not mix much with the county society, such
as it was ; and his visitors were chiefly friends from
England who had not forgotten him yet, or the mili-
tary quartered in his neighboui'hood.
It was a dreary, desolate old house where he lived
— massive, square, and grey. There were wooded
banks and hollows just round it ; but, farther afield,
the chill, bare moorland stretched away towards the
sea, broken here and there by sullen, sedgy tarns.
GUY LI^'TNGSTONE. 147
Here he spent his monotonous existence, riding
hard and drinking obstinately, but never, even in the
latter case, rising into conviviality. A long, bushy
beard and portentous moustache, grizzled, though he
was scarcely past middle age, which could not conceal
a deep sabre scar, gave him a grim, sinister expres-
sion ; and his voics had that brief imperious accent
wliich is peculiar to men for many years used to give
the word of command.
That worn, haggard face told a real tale. The fur-
rows there had been ploughed by an enduring re-
morse, very diflPerent from that comfortable, half-
complacent regret which some feel at the retrospect
of their jouihful fredaines.
They shake their solemn old heads as they hold
themselves up to us as a warning ; they sermonize
with edifying gravity on the impropriety of such
misdemeanors ; but we can trace through all this an
under- current of satisfaction tenderly fatuitous, as they
go back to the days of their gipsyhood, when Plancus
was consul.
I have been amused with watching these eminent
but somewhat sensual Christians, on such occasions,
and seeing the dull eyes begin to glisten, and the lips
wrinkle themselves into a fat, unpleasant smile. They
have prospered since, and certainly it would be most
absurd to torment themselves now about the souls and
bodies which they once sacrificed to a whim. Over
148 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
those ruins and relics the River of Oblivion has rolled
long ago — let them sleep on there, and take their rest !
Have we not the bright example of the protot}^e
of this class — the pious ^neas ? How creditable was
his behaviour when he looked back over the black
water on the trail of flame stretching from the funeral
pyre where Dido lay burning !
' He knew/ says his admiring biographer, * what
the madness of women could do ; ' but the breeze
was getting up astern, and favouring gods beckoned
him on to Italy and fortune : so he sighed twice or
thrice — perhaps he wept, for the amiable hero's
tears were always ready on the shortest notice — and
then, like the captain of the Hesperus, * steered for
the open sea.'
Did he feel a pang of remorse or shame at that
meeting in the twilight of Hades, when he called
vainly on Elissa, and the dead Queen, from where
she stood by the side of Sychaeus who had forgiven
her all, turned on him the disgust and horror of her
imperial eyes ? Who can tell ? The greatest and best
of men have their moments of weakness. If so, be
sure he was soon comforted as he reviewed the
shadowy procession of his posterity of kings. The
episode of Byrsa would scarcely trouble his conjugal
happiness, or make him more indulgent to the mildest
flirtation of Lavinia.
I fancy that poor Princess — after listening to a long,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 149
intensely proper discourse from her immaculate hus-
band, or when the young lulus had been unusually
disagreeable — gazing wistfully in the direction where,
against the sky-line, rose the clump of plane-trees,
under which hot-headed, warm-hearted Turnus was
resting after his brief life of storms. Then she would
think of that unhappy mother who, with every impulse
of a wilful natui'e, loved her child so dearly, till she
would begin to doubt — it was very wrong of her — if
Amata or the match-making gods were most right
after all.
The neighbouring peasantry regarded Mohun with
mingled dislike and terror — a feeling which was in-
creased tenfold by an event which occurred about
three years before my visit, in the height of the
agrarian troubles. I cannot do better than give it, as
near as I can, in the words of one who was an actor in
the scene.
150
CHAPTER XTlL
Now "what wouldst thou do, good my squire,
That rides beside my rein,
"Wert thou Glenallan's earl to-day,
And I were Eoland Cheyne ?
My horse should ride through their ranks sae rud^,
As he would through the moorland fern,
And ne'er let the gentle Norman bluid,
Grow cauld for the Highland kerne.
It was in the beginning of December, 184 — (said
Fred Carew), we were just sitting down to dinner
after a capital day's cock-sbooting — besides myself
tbere were Lord Clontarf, Mobun, and Kate, my wife
— when we were disturbed by a perfect bail of knocks
at tbe ball-door. Old Dan Tucker, or tbe Spectre
Horseman, never clamoured more loudly for admit-
tance. Fritz, Mobun's old Austrian servant, went
down to see wbat was up ; and, on opening tbe door,
was instantly borne down by tbe tumultuous rusb of
]\Iicbael Kelly, gentleman, agent to balf-a- dozen
estates, and attorney-at-law. In tbe two last capaci-
ties be bad given, it seems, great umbrage to tbe
neighbour ing peasantry, and tbey bad caugbt bim
GUY LI^aNGSTONE. 151
that night as he returned home, intending to put him
to death with that ingenuity of torture for which the
fine warm-hearted fellows are justly celebrated.
They did not wish to hurry over the entertainment,
so confined him in an upper chamber, while they
called their friends and neighbours to rejoice with
them, carousing meantime jovially below. The victim
contrived to let himself down from the window, and
ran for his life to the nearest house, which, unluckily,
happened to be the Lodge. Two boy.«, however, saw
and recognized him as he entered the demesne, and
raised a whoop, to show that they knew where the
fox had gone to ground.
This we made out from a striag of incoherent inter-
jections ; and then he lay, panting and contortiag
himself in an agony of fear.
Mohun sat on the hall-table, swinging his foot and
regarding the spectacle with the indolent curiosity
that one might exhibit towards the gambols of some
ugly new importation of the Zoological Society. When
the story was told, he pointed coolly to the door.
The shriek that the miserable creature set up on
seeing that gesture, I shall never forget.
* Do you think I shaU turn my house into a refuge
for destitute attorneys ? ' Ralph said, answering my
look of inquiry. * If there were no other reason, I
would not risk it, with your wife under my roof A
night attack in the West is no child's play ! *
152 GUr LIVINGSTONE.
Kate had come out, and was leaning over the gal-
lery : she heard the last words, and spoke, flushing
scarlet with anger.
' If I thought that my presence prevented an act
of common humanity, I would leave your house this
instant, Colonel Mohun/
Ealph smiled slightly, as he bent his head in cour-
teous acknowledgment of her interruption.
' Don't be indignant, Mrs Carew. If you have a
fancy for such an excitement, I shall be too happy to
indulge you. It is settled, then ? We back the attor-
ney. Don't lie there, sir, docking so like a whipped
hound. You hear ? You are safe for the present.'
He had hardly finished, when there came a rustling
of feet outside, then hurried whispers, then a knock,
and a summons.
* We'd like to spake wid the Curnel, av ye plase.'
* I am here ; what do you want ? ' Mohun growled.
' We want the 'torney. We know he's widin.*
* Then I'm afraid you'U be disappointed. It's not
my fancy to give him up. I wouldn't turn out a
badger to you ; let alone a man.'
You see, he took the high moral ground, now
* Then we'U have him out, in spite of yez,' two or
three voices cried out together.
* Try it ! ' Ralph said. * Meantime I am going to
dine; good-night.'
A voice that had not spoken yet was heard, with a
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 153
skrill, gibing accent. ' Ah, thin, the best of appetites
to ye, Curnel, darlin ! and make haste o^er yer din
ner. It's Pierce Delaney that'll give ye yer supper.*
Then they went off.
* The said Delaney is a huge quarryman,' Ralph ob-
served. ' He represents the physical element of terror
hereabouts, as I believe I do the moral. We shall
have warm work before morning. He does not like me.
Fritz, send Connell up ; he is below, somewhere.'
The keeper came, looking very much surprised.
He had been in the stables, and had only just heard
of the disturbance.
* Get the rifles and guns ready, with bullets and
buck-shot,' his master said. ' We are to be attacked,
it seems.'
The man's bold face fell, blankly.
* By the powers, yer honour, I haven't the value of
an ounce of poudther in the house. . I meant to get
some the morrow mornin, afore ye were up.'
Mohun shrugged his shoulders, whistling softly.
* Man proposes,' he said. ' It's almost a pity that
we foimd so many cocks in the Lower Copse this
afternoon. I have fifteen charges or so in my pistol-
case. "We must make that do, loading the rifles
light.' Then he went to a window, whence he could
see down the road ; the moon was shining brightly.
' I thought so ; they have got scouts posted already.
The barbarians know something of skirmishing, after
154 GUY LIVINGSTONB.
all. Maddox, come here/ (The groom was a strong
English boy, very much afraid of his master, but of
nothing else on earth.) * Saddle Sunbeam, and go out
by the back gates, keeping well under the shadow of
the trees. "When you clear them, ride straight at the
rails at the end of the paddock. You'll get over with
a scramble, I think — keep fast hold of his head — you
musn't fall. Then make the best of your way to
A , and tell Colonel Harding, with my compli-
ments, that I shall be glad if he will send over a troop
as quickly as possible. They ought to be here in two
hours. And mind, don't spare the horse going, but
bring him back easy. You will be of no use here,
and I won't have him lamed if I can help it. You'll
have to risk a bullet or two as you get into the road ;
but they can't shoot. It's odds against their hitting
you. Now, go.'
The groom pulled his forelock, as if the most ordin-
ary commission had been given him, and vanished.
* Connell,' Ralph went on, ' go and saw the ladders
that are in the yard half through. They will hardly
try the barred windows ; but it looks more workman-
like to take aU precautions. Then come back, and
help Fritz to pile chairs and furniture all up the stair-
case, and about the haU near it. Line the gallery
with mattresses, two deep, leaving spaces to fire
through. Light aU the lamps, and get more candles
to fix about ; we shall not see very clearly after the
GUY LI^TNGSTONE. 155
smoke of the first dozen shots. When you have
finished, come to me. Now, shall we go back to
dinner ? '
I am not ashamed to own I had little appetite ;
nevertheless, I sat down. Kate had gone to her room.
If her courage was failing, she did not wish to show it.
Suddenly our host got up, and went to the window.
His practised ear had caught the tread of the horse
which Maddox was taking out as quietly as possible,
"We watched him stealing along under the trees, till
their shelter failed him. Then he put Sunbeam to
speed, and rode boldly at the rails. A yell went up
from the road, and we saw dark figures running ; then
came a shot, just as the horse was rising at the fence.
He hit it hard, and the splinters flew up, white in the
moonlight ; but he was over. We held our breath,
while several flashes told of dropping shots after the
fugitive. They did not stop him, though ; and, to
our great relief, we heard the wild rush of the
frightened horse subside into a long stretching gallop,
and the wind brought back a cheery hollo — ' Forr'ard,
forr'ard away ! '
'So far, so good,' said Ralph Mohun, as he sat
down again, and went in steadily at a woodcock.
* Don't hurry yourselves, gentlemen. We have three-
quarters of an hour yet ; they will take that time to
muster. Clontarf, some hock ! '
The boy to whom he spoke held out his glass with
156 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
a pleasant smile. The coming peril had not altered
a tint on his fresh, beardless cheeks — rosy and clear
as a page's in one of Boucher's pictures.
A good contrast he made with the miserable attor-
ney, who had followed us uninvited (it seemed he
only felt safe in our presence), and who was crouch-
ing in a corner, his lank hair plastered round his
livid convulsed face with the sweat of mortal fear.
It struck Mohun, I think. He laid his hand on
Clontarf's shoulder, and spoke with a kindliness of
voice and manner, most unusual to him —
' We'll quell the savage mountaineer,
As tlieir Tinchell cows the game :
They come, as fleet as forest deer ;
We'll drive them back, as tame.'
Even at that anxious moment, I could not help
laughing at the idea of Ralph quoting poetry — of that
grim Saul among the prophets.
I went in to keep up Kate's spirits. She bore up
gallantly, poor child, and I left her tolerably calm.
She believed in me, as a ' plunger,' to an enormous
extent, and in Mohun still more. When I returned,
my companions were in the gaUery. This ran roimd
two sides of the haU, which went up to the roof. The
only access to the upper part of the house was by a
stone staircase of a single flight. The kitchen and
offices were on the ground floor, otherwise it was
uninhabited.
Ralph had his pistols by him, and his cavaliy
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 157
sword, long and heavy but admirably poised, lay
within bis rcacb.
* I have settled it,' be said. ' You and Connell are
to take tbe guns. Smootb bores are quickest loaded,
and will do for tliis short distance. Clontarf, who is
not quite so sure with the trigger, is to have the post
of honour, and guard the staircase with his sabre.
Throw another bucket of water over it, Connell— is it
thoroughly drenched ? And draw the windows up *
(these did not reach to within, ten feet of the floor),
'we shall be stifled else. But there will be a
thorough-draught when the door's down,' that's one
comfort. One word with you, Carew.'
He drew me aside, and spoke almost in a whisper,
while his face was very grave and stern.
* You will do me this justice, whatever happens.
Unless it had been forced upon me, I would not have
risked a hair of your wife's head to save all the
attorneys that are patronized by the father of lies.
But, mark me, if it comes to the worst, keep back a
bullet for her. Don't leave her to the mercy of those
savage devils, j. know them. She had better die
ten times over, than fall into their brutal hands. You
must use your own discretion, though. I shall not be
able to advise you then. Not a man of them wiU be
in this gallery till I am past pra^dng for. IS'everthe-
less, I hope and believe all wiU be right. Don't
trouble yourself to reload, Fritz will do that for you.
158 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
I have given him his orders. Aim very coolly,
too ; we must not waste a bullet. You can choose
your own sword ; there are several behind you. Ah,
I hear them coming up. Now, men, to your posts.*
There was the tramp of many feet, and the surging
of a crowd about and against the hall-door. Then a
harsh, loud voice spoke —
* Onst for all, will ye give him up, or shall we take
him, and serve the rest of yez as bad ? Ye've got
women there, too — *
I will not add the rest of the threat for very shame.
I know it made me more wolfish than ever I thought
it possible to feel ; for I am a good-natured man in
the main. Mohun, who is not, bit his moustache
furiously and his voice shook a little^ as he answered —
* Do you ever say a prayer. Pierce Delaney ? You
need one now. If you live to see to-morrow's sunset,
I wish my right hand may wither at the wi'ist.'
A shrill howl pealed out from the assailants, and
then the stout oak door cracked and quivered under
the strokes of a heavy battering-beam ; in a hundred
seconds the hinges yielded, and it came clattering in ;
over it leaped three wild figures, bearing torches and
pikes ; but their chief, Delaney, was not one of them.
' The left-hand man is yours, Carew ; Connell, take
the middle one,' said Ealph, as coolly as if we had
sprung a pack of grouse. While he spoke his pistol
cracked, and the right-hand intruder dropped across
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 159
the threshold without a cry or a stagger, shot right
through the brain. The keeper and I were nearly as
fortunate. Then there was a pause: then a rush
from without, an irregular discharge of musketry,
and the clear part of the hall was crowded with
enemies.
I can^t tell exactly what ensued. I know they
retreated several times, for the barricade was impass-
able ; and while their shots fell harmlessly on the
mattresses^ every one of ours told — nothing makes a
man shoot straight like being short of powder — ^but
they came on again, each time with added ferocity. .'
I heard Mohun mutter more than once, in a dis-
satisfied tone, *why does not that scoundrel show
himself ? — I can't make out Delaney.' All at once I
heard a stifled cry on my right, and, to my horror, I
saw Clontarf dragged over the balustrade in the gripe
of a giant, whom I guessed at once to be the man we
had looked for so long. Under cover of the smoke, he
had swung himself up by the balustrade of the stair-
case, and grasping the poor boy's collar as he looked
out incautiously from his shelter, dropped back into
the hall, carrying his victim with him.
"With a roar of exultation the wild beasts closed
round their prey. Before I had time to think what
could be done, I heard, close at my ear, a blasphemy
so awful that it made me start even at that critical
moment : it w^s Ralph's voice, but I hardly knew it-^
160 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
hoarse and guttural, and indistinct with passion.
Without hesitating an instant, he swung himself over
the balustrade and lighted on his feet in the midst of
the crowd. They were half drunk with whisky, and
maddened by the smell of blood ; but — so great was
the terror of Mohun's name — all recoiled when they
saw him. thus face to face, his sword bare and his eyes
blazing. That momentary panic saved Clontarf. In
a second, Ralph had thrown him under the arch of a
deep doorway, and placed himself between the sense-
less body and its assailants. Two or three shots were
fired at him without efiect ; it was difficult to take
aim in such a tossing chaos ; then one man, Delaney,
sprung out at him with a clubbed musket. ' At last ! '
we heard Mohun say, laughing low and savagely in
his beard, as he stepped one pace forward to meet his
enemy. A blow that looked as if it might have felled
Behemoth was warded dexterously by the sabre, and
by a quick turn of the wi'ist, its edge laid the rap-
paree's face open in a bright scarlet gash, extending
from eyebrow to chin.
His comrades rushed over his body, furious, though
somewhat disheartened at seeing their champion come
to grief ; but they had to deal with a blade that had
kept half-a-dozen Hungarian swordsmen at bay ; and,
with point or edge, it met them everyw^here, magically.
They were drawing back, when Delaney, recovering
from the first efiects of his fearful wound, crawled
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 161
forward, gasping out curses that seemed floatiug on
the torrent of his rushing blood, and tried to grasp
Mohun by the knees and drag him down.
Pah ! it was a sight to haunt one's dreams. — (You
might have fiUed my glass, some of you, when you
saw it was empty.)
Ralph looked down on him, and laughed again ; his
sabre whirled round once, and cleared a wide circle ;
then, trampling down the wounded man by main force,
he drove the point through his throat, and pinned him
to the floor. I tell you I heard the steel plainly as it
grated on the stone. There was an awful convulsion of
aU the limbs, and then the huge mass lay quite still.
Then came a lull for several moments. The Irish
cowered back to the door, like penned sheep ; their
ammunition was exliausted, and none dared to cross
the hideous barrier that now was between them and
the terrible cuirassier.
AU this took about half the time to act that it docs
to teU. I was hesitating whether to descend or to stay
where my duty clearly called me — near my wife.
Fritz knelt behind me, silent and motionless : he had
got his orders to stay by me to the last ; but the
sturdy keeper rose to his feet.
* Faix,' he said, * I'm but a poor hand at the
swoording, but I must help the masther, anyhow ; '
and he began to climb over the breastwork. The
ColonePs quick glance caught the movement, and his
162 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
brief imperious tones rang out over tlie tubbub of
voices, loud and clear.
' Don't stir, Connell ; stay where you are. I can
finish with these hounds alone.'
As he spoke, he dashed in upon them with lowered
head and uplifted sword.
I don't wonder that they all recoiled; his whole face
and form were fearfully transfigured; every hair in his
bushy beard was bristling with rage ; and the incar-
nate devil of murder was gleaming redly in his eyes.
Just then there was a wild cry from without,
answered by a shriek from my wife, who had been
quite silent till now. At first I thought that some
fellows had scaled the window ; but I soon distin-
guished the accents of a great joy. My poor Kate ?
She had roughed it in barracks too long, not to know
the rattle of the steel scabbards.
"When the dragoons came up at a hard gallop, there
was nothing left in the court-yard but the dead and
d}dng. Mohun had followed the flyers to get a last
stroke or two at the hindmost. We clambered down
into the hall, and, just as we reached the door, we saw
a miserable crippled being clinging round his knees,
crying for quarter. Poor wretch ! he might as well
have asked it from a famished jungle-tiger. The arm
that had fallen so often that night, and never in vain,
came down once more ; the piteous appeal ended in a
death-yell, and, as we reached him, Mohun was wiping
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 163
coolly Lis dripping sabre — it had no more work
to do.
I could not lielp shuddering as I took his offered
hand, and I saw Connell tremble for the first time, as
he made the sign of the cross.
The dragoons were returning from the pursuit;
they had only made two prisoners ; the darkness and
broken ground prevented their doing more. Ralph
went up to the officer in command.
' How very good of you to come yourself, Hard-
ing, when I only asked you for a troop. Come in ; you
shall have some supper in half-an-hour, and Fritz will
take care of your men. Throw all that carrion out,*
he went on, as we entered the hall, strewn with corpses.
' "We'll give them a truce to take up their dead.'
Clontarf came to meet us ; he had only been stunned
and bruised by the fall. His pale face flushed up, as
he said, * I shall never forget that I have to thank
you for my life.'
* It's not worth mentioning,' Mohun replied, care-
lessly. * I hope you are not much the worse for the
tumble. Gad ! it was a near thing, though. The
quarrjTuan's arms were a rough necklace.'
At that moment they were carrying by the dis-
figured remains of the dead colossus. His slayer
stopped them, and bent over the hideous face with a
grim satisfaction.
* My good friend, Delaney,' he muttered, ' you will
164 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
own that I have kept my word. If ever we meet
again, I think I shall know you. An rcvoir/ and he
passed on.
I need not go through the congratulatory scene, nor
describe how Kate blushed as they complimented her
on her nerve. Fortunately for her, she had seen
nothing, though she had heard it all. Just as we were
sitting down to supper, which Fritz prepared with his
usual stoHd coolness, and when Kate was about to leave
us, for she needed rest, we remarked the attorney
hovering about us, with an exultation on his face yet
more servile and repulsive than its late abject terror.
* Mrs Carew,* said Mohun, * if you have quite done
with your protege, I think we'll send him down-stairs.
Give him something to eat, Fritz; not with the
soldiers, though ; and let some one take him home as
soon as it's light. If you say one word, sir, I'll have
you turned out now.
Mr Kelly crept out of the room, almost as fright-
ened as he had been two hours before.
The supper was more cheerful than the dinner,
though there was a certain constraint on the party,
who were not all so seasoned as their host. He was
in unusual spirits ; so much so, that Clontarf confided
to a comet, his particular friend, that ' it was a pity
the Colonel could not have such a bear fight once a
fortnight, it put him into such a charming humour.'
We had nearly finished when, from the road outside,
GUY LIVINGSTONE.
165
there came a prolonged ear-piercing wail, that made
the window-panes tremble. I never heard any earthly
sound at once so expressive of utter despair, and
appealing to heaven or hell for vengeance.
"We all started, and set down our glasses ; but
Mohun finished his slowly, savouring like a connois-
seur the rich Burgundy.
* It is the wild Irish women, keening over their
dead/ he remarked, with perfect unconcern. * They^il
have more to howl for before I have done with them.
I shall go round with the police to-morrow, and pick
up the stragglers. Your men are too good for such
work, Harding. There are several too hard hit to go
far ; and my hand-writing is pretty legible.'
The stout soldier to whom he spoke bent his head in
assent, but with rather a queer expression on his
honest face.
* Gad! ' he said, 'you do your work cleanly, Mohun.'
' It is the best way, and the shortest in the end,'
was the reply ; and so the matter dropped.
^The dragoons left us before daybreak ; their pro-
tection was not needed, we were as safe as in the Tower
of London. The next morning, while I was sleeping
heavily, Ralph was in the saddle, scouring the coun-
try, with what success the next assizes could tell.
I go there again this winter for the cock-shooting,
but I don't much think Kate wiU accompany me.
Now^ who says ' a rubber ' ? Don't aU speak at once.
166
CHAPTER XYIII.
He has mounted her on a milk-'«hite steed^
Himself on a dappled grey ;
And a bugelet-horn hung down by his side,
As lightly they rode away.
It is hard to describe the terrible prestige which,
after the event I have been speaking of, attached itself
to Ealph Mohun. As for attempting a second attack
on the fatal house, the peasantry would as soon have
thought of storming the Bottomless Pit. They did
not even try a shot at him from behind a wall ; con-
sidering him perfectly invulnerable, they deemed it a
pity to waste good powder and lead that might be
usefully employed on an agent or process server. As
his gaunt, erect figure went by, the men shrunk out
of his path, and the women called their children in
hastily, and shut their cabin-doors ; the very beggars,
who are tolerably unscrupulous, gave his gate a wide
berth, crossing themselves, with a muttered prayer,
* God stand betwixt us and harm.' If Palph perceived
this, I think he rather liked it ; at all events he made
no attempt, either by softening his manner, or by any
act of benevolence, to win the popular favour.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 167
Before going to the Lodge I had heard from Living-
stone. He said that his cousin's affair with Charley-
was progressing satisfactorily (I knew what that
meant), and that he himself was going to sell out. I
was not surprised at this ; for some time past even
the light restraint of service in the Household Brigade
had begun to bore him. But the intelligence, con-
veyed in a brief note from him, during my stay with
Mohun, startled me very much. It announced, with-
out any preface or explanation, that he was engaged
to Constance Brandon.
I had observed that lately he had never mentioned
or alluded to Miss Bellasys ; but he had been equally
silent about his present betrothed. I told my host of
the news directly.
' I am very glad to hear it,* he said. * I never heard
anything but good of his fiancee. She is wonderfully
beautiful, too, I beKeve, and her blood is unexception-
able. And yet,' he went on musingly, ' I should hardly
have fancied that she would quite suit Guy. I don't
know any one who would exactly. By-the-by, was
there not a strong flirtation with a Miss Bellasys ? '
' Yes, so strong, that I should have been less sur-
prised to have seen her name in this letter.'
' Then he has not got out of that scrape, yet,^ Mohun
observed. * That girl comes of the wrong stock to give
up anything she has fancied without a struggle. I
knew her father, Dick Bellasys, well. He contrived
M
168 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
to compress as much, mischief into his five-and-thirty
years, before De Lawnay shot him, as most strong
men can manage in double the time. He was like
the Visconti — never sparing man ia his anger, or
woman in his love.'
I felt that he was right. I did not fancy the idea
of Flora's state of mind, when she heard that all her
fascinations had failed, and that her rival had won
the day.
* I think I must leave you sooner than I had ia-
tended,' I said ; * I should like to be in England to
see how things are goiug on.'
' You are right,' answered Ealph, ' though I shall
be sorry to lose you. You have some influence with
Livingstone, I know, though he is so hard to guide
and self-reliant that advice is almost useless. If I
had to give you a consigne, it would be — Distrust. If
Miss Bellasys seems to take thiags pleasantly, be still
more wary. I never saw a peculiarly frank, winning
smile on her father's face without there being ruin to
some one m the backgroimd. After all, you can do
but little, I suppose. Che sara, saraJ He said this
drearily, and with something like a sigh.
I had some busiuess which detained me in Dublin,
and it was nearly a fortnight after I received Guy's
letter before I reached London.
Early on the morning after my arrival, I went down
to his lodgings in Piccadilly. I found him at break-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 169
fast ; after the first greetings, before I could say one
word about bis own afiairs, be began to speak eagerly.
' Wbat a pity you sbould have come too late for
the catastrophe, when you had seen all the preface.
Five days ago Bella and Charley made their great
coupy and were married in Paris.^
* And Bruce ? ' I said, recovering from the intelli-
gence, which was not so unexpected, after all.
* Ah ! Bruce,' Guy replied ; * I should be very
glad if I knew what he icas doing at this moment. I
have been expecting him every day ; but nothing has
been heard of him since he left my mother's presence,
in a rabid state of fury. Did I tell you it was from
Kerton they fled ? I thought he must have come to
me for an explanation, knowing that I was an accessory
before the fact. Indeed I lent Charley the sinews of
war, in the shape of a blank cheque, which I see, this
morning, he has filled up for a thousand — just like his
modesty. "Well, I hope they'll amuse themselves!
Bruce has never been near me. Suicide is the most
charitable suggestion I've heard yet ; but coroners are
silent, and the Thames, if it is conscious of that unlucky
though disagreeable man, keeps his secret so far.'
Then he went on to give me more particulars of the
escapade. It seems that Miss Eaymond had gone out
to walk alone, after luncheon^ and that nothing more
was heard of her till dinner-time, when a note was
found on her dressing-table, addressed to her aunt,
170 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
containing the intelligence of her flight with Forrester,
and a little piece of ready-made penitence : the first,
for all whom it might concern ; the second, for her
father.
That placid Lord Ullin received the news by tele-
graph, when ie was well into his second ruhber at
the * Travellers ; ' he put the message into his pocket
without remark, and won the rubber before he rose.
It has been reported that he was somewhat absent
during its progress, so much so, as to rough his part-
ner's strongest suit ; but this I conceive to have been
an after-thought of some one's, or a canard of the
club. Impavid as the Horatian model-man — (just in
all his dealings J and tenacious of the odd- trick) — I
cannot imagine the convulsion of nature which would
have made him jeopardize by any sin of omission or
commission, the winning of the long odds.
He found Bruce that night, and told him all. He
never would give any account of that interview ; it
must have been a curious one.
Xvvb)}ioaav yap, ovreg ij(9iaroi to irpiv,
wvp Kul 6d\a<j<ja
Fancy the well-iced conventionalities of the one,
brought in contact with the other's savage tempera-
ment, maddened by baffled desires and the sense of
shameful defeat.
Before noon the next day, it was announced to
Lady Catherine, at Kerton Manor, that Bruce was
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 171
waiting for her in the drawing-room. It was with a
diffidence and sense of guilt very strange to her pure,
straightforward nature, that she obeyed the summons.
His back was to the door as she entered.
* I cannot tell you how sorry I am,' she began.
Bruce turned towards her his ghastly face, ravaged
and deformed by passion and sleeplessness, like a cane-
brake in the Western Indies over which a tornado has
passed. He did not appear to notice her words or her
offered hand ; but spoke in a strange broken voice,
after clearing his parched throat once or twice,
huskily —
* When did they go ? At what hour ? '
She told him as well as she could.
* Where have they gone to ? '
* I have not the least idea. Bella gave no hint of
this. Would you like to see her note ? ' and she
held it out to him.
The name appeared to sting him like the cut of a
whip ; for he started convulsively as he took the scrap
of paper. He read it through more than once, as if
unable to comprehend it ; the power of discrimina-
tion seemed blasted in his dry, red eyeballs; they
could only glare.
He made it out at last, and crumpled it up in his
hand, clenching it till the knuckles became dead-
white under the strain.
* We were to have been married this day month,'
172 GUY LIVINGSTONE
he said to himself, in a hoarse whisper ; then raising
his voice, — ' You can guess, at least, which route they
have taken ? '
* Indeed I cannot,' she answered ; * I would have
done anything to prevent this ; but you must see that
pursuit now would be worse than useless, it could
only lead to fresh evils.*
Then the smouldering passion burst into a flame.
* It is false ! ' he cried out ; you would have done
nothing. It is a plot ! You are all in it ; you, your
son, and more that I will know soon. I saw it from
the first moment I set foot in this cursed house. And
you think I will not be revenged ? "Wait, wait, and
see ! ' He spoke rapidly, but it seemed as if the
words could hardly force their way through his
gnashing teeth.
Good and kind-hearted as she was, there breathed
no prouder woman than Lady Catherine Livingstone.
Before he had ended, her hand was on the bell.
' ' Not even your disappointment can excuse your
language,^ she said in her clear, vibrating tones ; * our
interview is ended. I have pitied you hitherto, and
blamedmy niece ; Ido neither now — she knew you better
than I. Not one word more. Mr Bruce's carriage.
Bruce glared at her savagely ; he would have sold
his soul, I believe, to have strangled her where she
stood ; but Guy's own peculiar look was in the cold,
disdainful eyes, which met his without flinching or
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 173
faltering. He knew that look very well, and quailed
under it now, as lie had done many times before.
' A last piece of advice,' Lady Catherine said, as he
turned to go ; ' you had better curb your temper, if
you think of seeing my son. He may scarcely be so
patient with you as I have been.'
: If he heard it, he did not notice the remark ; but
left the room slowly. He lifted his hand but not his
head, in a stealthy gest\ire of menace, as he reached
the door. _^
Lady Catherine stood for some moments after his
departure, as if in thought, unconsciously retaining
her somewhat haughty attitude and expression. Then
she went to her room, and prayed, with many tears,
that Isabel Raymond might never have to repent the
step she had taken so rashly. I think a presentiment
of danger made her pray for Guy too. But did she
ever forget him when she was on her knees ?
Nevertheless, Bruce had not shown upon the scene
since ; so that they could not convey to him the in-
telligence, when Isabel Forrester wrote from Paris to
communicate her marriage.
Guy went to Mr Eaymond, as a plenipotentiary
from the recently Allied Powers, to obtain, if possi-
ble, fair conditions of peace. His uncle was breakfast-
ing alone, and received him with perfect good- temper.
* My dear boy,' he said, * it was a match of your
poor aunt's making, not mine. If she had lived to
174 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
see it broken oflP, I think she would have been very
much provoked.* (He gave a slight shudder of re-
miniscence here, and finished his chocolate.) * But
they say there is no marrying or giving in marriage
where she is gone ; so, let us hope, it will not seriously
affect her now. As to me, I have never been angry
since I was twenty-two. Personally, I very much
prefer Forrester to Bruce as a connection. I should
have allowed Bella £300 a year, and I suppose the
necessary outfit and presents would have cost me
about £500. I will do just the same now : neither
more nor less. You can tell Charley, he may draw
for the last sum and for the first quarter, when he
pleases. They had better travel for a year or so, I
think, till people have stopped talking about them.
Charley will sell out, of course ? '
* His papers are sent in,' Guy replied.
* Just so,' Eaymond went on. * If they are in a
pleasant place, I may very likely go and see them this
summer. Suggest Hombourg. I should like to try
the waters. And tell Charley not to go about too
much alone after nightfall. The deserted one is
capable of laying a trap for him. I didn't like his
look when I saw him last. That is all, I think. Do
you go to Lady Featherstone's to-night ? '
Raymond appeared at his clubs and elsewhere, with
a face so impenetrably cheerful and complacent, that
his bitterest friend dared not venture on a condolence.
175
CHAPTER XIX.
Tu milii, tu certe (memini), Graecine, negabaa,
Uno posse aliquem tempore amare duas.
When I had heard all this, I questioned Guy about his
own affairs. He was not very communicative, though
he seemed perfectly happy and hopeful as to the
future. He said that his marriage was not to take
place till the autumn, when Miss Brandon's brother
(they were orphans) was expected to return from
India. I could not help asking what Flora Bellasys
thought of it ?
Livingstone bit his lip, and frowned slightly, as he
answered, * Well ! there was a scene, rather a tempes-
tuous one, to speak the truth ; but we are perfectly
good friends now. I wonder if she ever really expected
me to marry her ? she is the most amusing person alive
to flirt with ; but as for serious measures ' — he shrug-
ged his shoulders expressively. * Perhaps she has
something to complain of ; but if she has any con-
science at all, she ought to recognize the lex talio7iis*
I was not convinced or satisfied : but it was useless
to pursue the subject then.
176 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
' Will you ride to-day ? ' Ghiy asked. * There are
always horses for you here. I should like to introduce
you to Constance. TVe shall be in the Park about
five.*
I accepted willingly, and left him soon afterwards.
A little after the hour he had named, I saw Living-
stone's tall figure turn the corner by Kensington Gar-
dens, riding on Miss Brandon's right : on her left was
her uncle, Mr Yavasour, her usual escort.
She was rarely lovely, certainly, as I was sure she
would be, for Guy's taste in feminine beauty was un*
disputed. Her features were delicate, but very clearly
cut ; the nose and chin purely Grecian in their out-
line ; the dark grey eyes met you with an earnest true
expression, as if they had nothing to conceal. Her
broad Spanish hat suited her well, shading as it did
cheeks slightly flushed by exercise, and shining
tresses of that colour which with us is nameless, and
which across the Channel they call — Uo7id cendr^.
Her hand was strikingly perfect even in its gauntlet.
It might have been modelled from that famous marble
fragment of which the Banker Poet was so proud, and
which Canova kissed so often.
There is a face that always reminds me of hers ;
though the figure in the portrait is far more matured
and developed than Constance's willowy form — the
picture of Queen Joanna of Naples, in the Palazzo
Doria.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 177
I have stood before it long, trying in vain to read
the riddle of the haughty lineaments, and serene un-
troubled eyes. Gazing at these, who could guess the
story of that most guilty woman and astute conspira-
tor — ^unbridled in sensuality — remorseless in state-
craft — who counted her lovers by legions, and saw,
unmoved, her chief favourite torn limb from limb on
the rack ?
But this is no singular instance. Marble and can-
vass are more discreet than the mask of the best- trained
living features. Messalina and Julia look cold and
correct enough, since they have been turned into stone.
Only by the magic of her smile, and by the glory of
her golden hair, do we recognize Her who, if all tales
are true, might have given a tongue to the walls of
the Yatican. We forget the Borgia, with her labor-
atory of philtres and poisons — we only think that
never a Duke of all his royal race brought home a
lovelier bride than Alfonso of Ferrara.
Perhaps it is best so. Why should a mark be set
upon those whom, it may be, history has condemned
unrighteously ? Let us not be more imcharitable than
the painter or the sculptor ; but pass on without
pausing to reflect — Desinit mpiscem.
If one had wanted to find a fault in Constance
Brandon's beauty, I suppose it would have been that
her forehead was too high, and her lips too thin and
decided in their expression, especially when compress-
178 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
ed under any strong feeling. But this defect it would
have been hard to discover on this first occasion of our
meeting. She looked so bright and joyous ; and the
light from her face seemed reflected on Guy's dark
features, softening their stern outline, and making
them radiant with a proud happiness. She received
me very cordially, and I well remember the pleasant
impression left on my ear by the first sound of her
voice, soft and low as Cordelia's. In these two attri-
butes it resembled that of Flora Bellasys ; yet their
tones were essentially difierent — as different as is to
the taste a draught of pure sparkling water from one
of strong sweet wine. We had taken two or three
turns, when a large party approached us, in the centre
of whom I recognised instantly Miss Bellasys. If
possible, she looked handsomer than ever, as she swept
by at a sharp canter, sitting square and firmly, but
yielding just enough to the stride of the horse — per-
fectly erect, but inimitably lithe and graceful.
Nothing in her demeanour betrayed the faintest
shade of emotion ; but I remembered the old maxim
of the fencing- school — 'Watch your enemy's eyes,
not his blade ; and I caught Flora's, as she raised her
head after returning our salutation, before she had
time to discipline them thoroughly. I saw them
glitter with defiant hatred as they lighted on her rival.
I saw them melt with passionate eagerness, as for one
brief moment they followed Guy's retreating figure
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 179
and averted face. Half of Moliuii's warning became
superfluous after that. I was in no danger of being
deceived by ' Miss Bellasys taking things pleasantly.*
Yet, as time wore on, the idea forced itself on me
more and more, that Livingstone's choice was, in some
respects, a mistake. They were not suited to each
other. Constance was as unsuspicious and as free
from common-place jealousies as the merest child ;
but some of her lover's proceedings did not please her,
and she told him so — perhaps without attending
sufficiently to the * suaviter in modo ' — for, when it
was a question of duty, real or fancied, to herself and
to others, she was rigid as steel. Besides this, she
was a strict observer of all Church canons and rituals ;
and more than once, when Guy had proposed some
plan, a Vigil, or Matins, or Vespers came in the way.
She did all for the best, I am certain, and judged
herself far more severely than she did others ; but she
could not guess how anything like an admonition or
a lecture grated on the proud, self-willed nature that
from childhood had been imused to the slightest con-
trol. To speak the truth, too, she was not exempt
from that failing which brought ruin on the brightest
of the angels, and punishment eternal on the Son of
the Morning; so that pride may often have checked
the evidence of the deep love she really felt, and
made her manner seem constrained and cold.
I only guess all this ; for neither then, nor at any
180 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
future time, did I ever hear from Guy the faintest
whisper of accusation or complaint.
I do not think he contradicted her often ; I am
quite sure it never came to a quarrel, or even a dis-
pute. They were not a couple likely to indulge in
the amantium ircB ; but sometimes after quitting her,
his brow was so ominously overcast, that it would ha^'O
gladdened the very heart of Flora Bellasys to have
seen it. Once, I remember, after sitting some time in
silence, his eyes turned towards a table, where, among
other letters, lay a little triangular note unopened.
He broke the seal, and read it through, frowning still
heavily; after a few moments of what looked Hke
hesitation, he seemed to come to a decision, and bui'nt
it slowly at the flame of his spiiit-lamp. Then he
rose, and shook all his mighty limbs — as the Danite
Titian might have done, before his locks were shorn
— and sat down again with a long-drawn sigh, as of
relief. I longed to interpose with a warning word,
for in the handwriting I recognized the (jriffe of the
fatal Delilah. But I knew how dangerous it was to
attempt interference with Guy; and besides, this
time, I felt sure he had escaped the toils. Yet my
heart sank, as I thought of the seductions and tempt-
ations that the future might have in store. I could
hardly keep my temper that evening, when I saw at
the opera Flora Bellasys — triumphant, as if she coidd
guess what the morning's work had been — and thei^
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 181
thouglit of the single, guileless heart whose happiness
she was plotting to overthrow.
She and Guy met constantly ; for he still went
everywhere, often unaccompanied by his Jia?icee, They
seemed to be on the most ordinary footing of old
acquaintances : though it was remarked that no one
could be said to have succeeded to the post of Grand
Vizier at the Bellasys Court, vacated by Livingstone.
I cannot trace the threads of the web of Circe. She
concealed them well, at the time ; and since — between
the knowledge of them, and me, is drawn the veil of a
terrible remorse, which I have never tried to penetrate.
I can only tell the end, which came very speedily.
182
CHAPTER XX.
'Tis good to be merry and wise ;
'Tis good to be honest and true;
'Tis good to be oflf with the old love,
Before you are on with the new.
There was a sound of revelry by night in Mrs
"Wallace's villa at E-ichmond, and fair women and
brave men mustered there strong. Every one liked
those parties. The hostess was young and very
charming; while her husband, a bald, inoffensive,
elderly man, was equally eminent in his own depart-
ment of the commissariat. His wines were things to
dream of in after years, when, like Curran, ' confined
to the port ' of a remote country inn, one sacrifices
oneself heroically on the altar of the landlord, for the
good of the house.
The crowd was not so dense as at most London
parties, and the temperature consequently something
below that of a vapour-bath or of the Piombi ; but the
generality of the guests were either amusing, or pretty,
or otherwise eligible. To be sure it was rather an
expedition and a question of passports, to get down
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 183
there ; but tlie drive home through the cool dewy
morning made you amends.
Constance Brandon was present. I never saw her
look so lovely as on this, her last appearance on the
world's stage. Ko one could have guessed that, five
hours later, the light was to die in her eyes, and
the colour in her cheeks — never to return to either
ao-ain, till she shall wake on the Resurrection
morning.
Flora Bellasys was there, too, in all the insolence
of beaut}", defying criticism, and challenging the
admiration that was lavished on her. I should like
to describe her dress ; but I know how dangerous it
is for the uninitiate to venture within the verge of
those awful mysteries over which, as Hierophants,
Devy and Maradan- Carson preside. Conscious of my
sex I retire. Have we not read of Acta3on ?
Still I may say that I have an impression of her
beiag surroimded by a sort of cloud of pale blue tulle,
over which bouquets of geranium were scattered here
and there ; and I remember perfectly a certain serpent
of scarlet velvet and diamonds, flashing amidst the
rolls and braids of her dark shining tresses.
The evening began with private theatricals, which
were most successful. There was a soubrette — provok-
ing enough to have set all the parti-coloured world
by the ears — who traced her descent from a vavasor
of Dxike William the Nonnan ; and an attorney's
N
ISl GUY LIVINGSTONE.
clerk, who had evidently mistaken his profession when
he took a commission in the Coldstreams.
Soon after the ball which followed had beo-un,
Livingstone arrived. He had been dining at the mess
of his old regiment. I never remember seeing him,
what is called, the worse for liquor. His head was
marble under the influence of wine, and of yet stronger
compounds ; but the instant I met his eyes, I guessed
from their unusual brilliancy, and from the slight
additional flush on his brown cheeks, that the wassail
had been deep.
He paused for a moment to say a word or two to
me ; and I noticed that the first person whom his glance
lighted on was — not his betrothed, but Flora Bellasys.
The latter was resting after her first polka with her
usual staff" of admirers round her, Guy watched the
circle paying their homage, and I heard him mutter
to himself the formula of the Roman arena — Morituri
te salutant. Then he passed on ; and after retaining
Constance for her first disengaged turn, he began
talking to a lady, whom I have not noticed yet, but
who merits to be sketched hastily.
Eose Thornton was not clever. She was no longer
in her first youth, and had never been pretty or very
attractive. Her figure was neat, and her face had a
sort of nervous deprecating expression, that made you
look at it a second time. Nevertheless, she was always
deeply engaged, and generally to the best goers in the
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 185
room. She was a good performer herself, but this
would not account for it; ninety-nine girls out of every
hundred are that, after two seasons' practice. Those
who were in the secret did not wonder at her luck^
She was the dme damnee of Flora Bellasj^s.
- When the latter ventured on any unusually daring
escapade, she was always really accompanied by Miss
Thornton, or supposed to be so. How the influence
was originally acquired, I know not ; at the time I
speak of she had no more volition left than a Russian
grenadier. She had some principles of action once,
I suppose, and considered herself as an accountable
being ; but all such vanities her ' dashing white Ser-
jeant ' had drilled out of her long ago. Poor thing !
It was no wonder that the frightened look had become
habitual to her face, and that she always spoke with
reserve and constraint, as if to guard against the
chance betrayal of some terrible secret. It was no
sinecure her office — alternately scapegoat and conjl-
dante. My own idea is, that having still a little
feeble remnant of a conscience remaining, she suffered
agonies of remorse at times, in the latter capacit3\
Dancing was her great — almost her only pleasure ;
and Flora, certainly, provided her regularly with
partners. Indeed, some one had irreverently desig-
nated Miss Thornton as The Turnpike ; inasmuch,
as before securing a waltz with the beauty, it was ne-
cessary to pay toll in the shape of a duty-dance with
1^6 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
her protegee. Rose's gratitude was boundless. Slie
never wearied in rendering small services to her pa-
troness. She would write her notes for her, as La
Eaffe did for Richelieu, and fetch and carry like the
best of retrievers ; venturing every now and then on
a timid caress, which was permitted rather than ac-
cepted, with an imperial nonchalance. The only
subject on which she ever expanded into eloquence
was the fascinations of her friend. She spent all her
weak breath in blowing that laudatory trumpet, as if
she expected the defences of the best-guarded heart
to fall prostrate before it, lilve the walls of Jericho.
And yet, if all the truth were known, I think she had
as much reason to complain as the dwarf in the story
who swore fellowship -in-arms with the giant.
I was sorry to see Livingstone linger at her side ;
yet more sorry when, by an easy transition, he passed
on to Flora's, and the circle around her, from old
habit, made room for him to pass. He did not stay
there long, though — only long enough to make futui-e
arrangements, I suppose — and then, for some time, I
lost sight of him.
I had been driving heavily through a quadi'ille, in
the society of a very foolish virgin, whose ideas of
past, present, and future seemed bounded by the last
opera, which she had, and I had not seen. A horror
of great dulness had fallen upon me, and I went out
to restore the tone of my depressed spirits by a liba-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 187
tion, wlicrtiii I deyoted, solemnly, my late partner to
the infernal gods. AYlien I returned they were play-
ing ' The Olga/ and Flora was whirling round on
Guy Livingstone's arm.
Amongst her many perilous fascinations, have I
ever mentioned her wonderful waltzing ? She was as
untiring as an Almo ; and when once fairly launched
with a steer er who could do her justice, had a sway
with her — to use an Americanism — ^like that of a
clipper, three points off the wind.
As I watched her, almost reclining in her partner's
powerful grasp, her lips moving incessantly though
audibly only to him, as her head leant against his
shoulder, I thought of the old Ehine-land traditions
of the Wilis ; then the daughter of Herodias came
into my mind ; and then that scarcely less murderous
danseuse, at whose many-twinlding feet they say the
second Napoleon cast his frail life down.
If in his assault on St Anthony, the Evil One min-
gled no Terpsichorean temptation, be sure it was be-
cause the ancient man had no ear for music. I do
not think that weapon was forgotten when Don
Eoderic, who had once been a courtly king, did battle
through a long winter's night with the phantasm
of fair sinful La Cava.
The waltz was over ; and I saw Guy and Flora dis-
appear through the curtained door of the conservatory.
If there was one thing Mrs "Wallace was prouder of
188 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
than another, it was the arrangement of this sanctum.
Yery justly so; for it had witnessed the commence-
ment and happy termination of more flirtations than
half the ball-rooms in London put together. When
you got into one of those nooks, contrived in artful
recesses, shaded by magnolias, camellias, and the
broad thick-leaved tropical plants, lighted dimly by
lamps of many-coloured glass, you felt the recitation
of some chapter in * the old tale so often told,' a neces-
sity of the position, not a matter of choice. Against
eybC vou were tolerably safe, though not against ears ;
but this is ui very secondary importance. The man
who would not assist a woman in distress (as the stage
sailor has it), by adhering to the whisper appropriate
to the imparting of interesting information, deserves
to be— overheard.
Flora sank down on a convenient caiiseiise, still
panting slightl}" ; not from breathlessness, but past
excitement — the ground-swell after the storm.
' Ah, what a waltz ! ' she said, with a sigh. * And
what a pity it is so nearly the last ! I shall never find
any one else who will understand my step and pace
60 well.*
* Why should it be nearly the last ? ' Guy asked,
contemplating the var^dng expression of her face and
the somewhat careless 2'>osc of her magnificent figure,
with more than admiration in his eyes.
* On se ra?ige,' Flora answered, demurely. 'And
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 189
the first step iii the riglit dLrection will be to give up
one's favourite partners/
He sat do^^Ti by ber, with a short laugh, that was
rather forced.
* Bah ! do you think because we are virtuous, there
shall be no more cakes and ale ? '
* Of course I do. I could sketch your future so
easily. It will be intensely respectable. You will
become a model country sqmre. You will hunt a good
deal, but never ride any more. (You must sell the
Axeine, you know.) You will go to magistrates*
meetings regularly, and breed immense cattle ; and
you will grow very fat j^ourself. That's the worst of
aU. I don't like to fancy j^ou, stout and unwieldy,
like Athelstan.'
She ended pensively. The languor of reaction
seemed stealing over her ; but it only made her more
charming, as she leant still farther back on the soft
cushions, watching the point of her tiny foot tracing
the pattern of the carpet.
* What a brilliant horoscope,* said Guy ; * and so
benevolently sketched, too ! JN^ow your own, Improvi-
satrice ? '
* I shall marry, too,* she answered, gravely. ' I
ought to have done so long ago. Perhaps I shall
make up my mind soon. Evil examples are so con-
tagious.*
* And v/ho wlU draw ihe great prize ? '
190 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
' I have not the faintest idea. I suppose some fine
old Eno;lisli gentleman, who has a great estate'
* I onl}^ hope the said estate will be near Kerton,'
Livingstone suggested ; and he drew closer to his
companion.
' Ah, dear old Kcrton ! ' she said, sighing again.
* I shall never go there any more.'
* The reason ? *
* Perhaps, because my husband, whoever he may
be, will not choose to bring me.'
* Absurd ! ' Guy retorted, biting his lip hard. * As
if that individual would have any will of his o^^^l.
You want to provoke me, I sec.'
The answer came in so low a whisper, that, though
he bent his ear down, he had almost to guess at the
words.
* No ; I have never tried to do that, even during
the last three months. I am not brave enough. Per-
haps I should not come, because — I could not bear it.'
They were silent. She was so near him now that
her quick breath stirred his hair, and he could feel the
pulse of her heart beating against his own side. The
fiery Livingstone blood, heated seven-fold by wine
and passion, was surging through his veins like molten
iron. Memory and foresight were both swept away,
like withered leaves, by the strength of the terrible
temptation.
His arm stole round Lcr waist, and he drew her
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 191
towards him — close — closer yet ; then she looked up
in his face. The cloud of thoughtful gravity has
passed away fVom hers, and the provocations of a
myriad of coquettes and courtesans concentrated in
her marvellous eyes.
He bent down his lofty head, and instantly their
lips met, and were set together, fast.
A kiss ! Tibullus, Secundus, Moore, and a thousand
other poets and poetasters, have rhymed on the word
for centuries, decking it with the choicest and
quaintest conceits. But, remember ! — it was with a
kiss that the greatest of all criminals sealed the Un-
pardonable Sin — it was a kiss which brought on Fran-
cesca punishment so unutterably piteous, that He
swooned at the sight who endured to look on all other
horrors of Nine-circled Hell.
192
CHAPTER XXI
God help thee, then !
I'll see thy face no more.
Like water spilt upon the plain,
Not to be gathered up again,
Is the old love I bore.
Before tliat long caress was ended, close behind tliem
there broke forth a low plaintive cry, such as might be
wrung from the bravest of delicate women, in her ex-
tremity of pain, when stricken by a heavy brutal hand.
The hot blood ebbed back in Guy Livingstone's
veins, and froze at its fountain-liead. His punish-
ment had begun already. Before her face, white as
the dress she wore, was revealed througli a break in
the dark-green foliage of the camellias, he knew that
he had trifled away his life's happiness, and lost Con-
stance Brandon.
She came forward slowly : with a valiant effort she
had shaken off the first feeling of faintness that had
crept over her, and there was scarcely a trace of emo-
tion left on her features — calm and pale as the Angel
of Death.
Guy had risen, and stood still, ^^-ith his head bent
down on his breast. For the first time in his life he
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 193
was unable to raise liis eyes — weighed down by tbe
heavy sense of bitter disgrace and forfeited honour.
But the bright flush on Flora's cheek spoke more
of exultation than of shame ; the bouquet which she
raised to her lips only half concealed a smile of tri-
umph. She wreathed her slender neck haughtily,
while she met her rivaPs glance without flinching.
She thought that, if she had played for a heavy stake
— no less than the jeopardy of her fair fame — this
time, at least, the game was her own.
Constance spoke first, in a voice perfectly measured
and composed. There was not a false note in the soft,
musical tones. After once conquering her emotion,
she would have dropped dead at Flora's feet sooner
than betray how she was wounded.
* When you have taken Miss Bellasys back, will
3^ou come to me for a moment, Mr Livingstone ? I
will wait for j'ou here.'
Flora rose before Guj^ could answer. ' Don't
trouble yourself,' she said, gaily. *Here is my
partner for the polka looking anxiously for me. I am
ready. Captain Kavenswood.''
She turned before reaching the door, to fire a last
shot.
* It is the next galop I am to keep for you, is it not?'
This was to Guy ; but there was no answer. He
stood in precisely the same attitude, without a muscle
of his face stirring, or an eyelash quivering.
104 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
In all the Rifle Brigade there was not a more reck-
less dare-devil than Harry Ravenswood, nor one who
adhered more devoutly to the convenient creed — ' All
is fair in war or love/ But he saw that something had
happened quite out of his line, and he did not venture
on a single allusion to it, as he led his partner back to
the dancing-room with a perplexed expression on his
cheery face, which amused Flora intensely when she
remarked it. When the subject came on for discus-
sion afterwards, in the smoking-room at his club, he
thus expressed himself in language terse and ele-
gantly allegorical : —
* You see, Livingstone is a very heavy weight ; a
good deal better than most in the ring. When I saw
him so floored as not to bo able to come to time, I
knew there had been some hard hitting going on
thereabouts, so I kept clear.'
The two who were left alone in the conservatory
remained silent for a few seconds. Then Guy roused
himself and ofiercd his arm to his companion, with an
impulse of courtesy that was simply mechanical.
She took it without remark ; and they passed out
through the door which led into the garden.
There Constance left his side ; and, for the first time,
their eyes met as they stood face to face under the
bright moon. Guy read his sentence instantly— a
sentence from which there was no appeal. The very
hopelessness of his situation restored its elasticity to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 195
the somewhat £ullen pride, which was the mainspring
of his character. He stood waiting for her to speak;
and his eyes were not cast down now, but riveted on
her face — gloomily defiant.
* I hope you will believe,' Miss Brandon said, ' that
it was quite involuntarily I became a spy on your ac-
tions. I did not overhear one word : and my partner
had that moment left me, when I saw .' Not all
her self-command could check the shudder that ran
through every limb, and the choking in her throat
that would interrupt her.
* I have very little to add,-' she went on, more steadi-
ly. ' After what I witnessed, I need hardly say that
we only meet again as the merest strangers. You might
think meanly of me, indeed, if I ever allowed your lips
to touch my cheek or my hand again. Remember,
I told you from the first we were not suited to each
other ; perhaps I deserve all I have met with for
allowing myself to be overruled. You cannot contra-
dict a word of this, or say that it is unjust or severe.'
Did she pause in the expectation, or the hope, of
an excuse, or an appeal from her hearer ? Only the
hoarse answer came, — •
* I have forfeited the right to defend myself, or to
gainsay you.'
' You would find it difficult to do either,* Constance
rejoined, rather more haughtily ; perhaps she was dis-
appointed in the tone of his reply. * One word more ;
196 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
if my name is ever called in question, I am sure no
one will defend it more readily than yourself. My
voice will never be heard against you ; and if, here-
after, you should desire my forgiveness more than you
now do, remember, I have given it unasked, and
freely.'
Guy's tone was pregnant with cold, cruel irony, as
he answered —
* I congratulate you on your position, Miss Bran-
don ; it is quite unassailable. You are in the right
now, as you always have been. You were right, of
course, in always doling out the tokens of your love in
such scanty measure as your pride and your priests
would allow. They ought to canonize you — those
holy men ; I doubt if they have another disciple so
superior to all human weaknesses. It must be very
gratifying to so eminent a Christian to be able to
forgive plenarily, without danger of the favoui' being
returned. I have nothing to urge against your de-
cision — that we part for ever. You will have no
difficulty in forgetting me, whom you ought never to
have stooped to. Yet I will give you one caution.
I am not romantic, as you know, and I generally
mean what I say. If you should think hereafter of
bestowing yourself on some worthier object, hesitate
a little, for his sake, or wait till I am dead ; other-
wise, the day that makes his happiness certain may
bring him very near his grave.'
GUY LIVINGSTON K. 197
His voice had changed during the last words into a
growl of savage menace ; and his forehead was black
and furrowed with passion.
It might have been his otvtl excited fancy, or the
passing just then of a light cloud over the moon ; but,
for an instant, he thought he saw her steady lip quiver
and tremble. If so, be very sure it was not fear which
caused the emotion, though even that the circumstance
might have excused ; rather, I think, it was a pang
of self-reproach ; a consciousness of having acted
unwisely, though for the best; perhaps, too, the
stubbornness of the heart she had ruled once — so
strong and proud even in its abasement — was con-
genial to her own besetting sin ; she liked the fierce
threat better than the cool sarcasm. At any rate,
she answered more gently than she had yet spoken.
' I believe j^ou. But you know me better than to
think a threat would influence me. Yet you need not
fear my ever again trusting this world with my hap-
piness. You will be very sorry hereafter for some
thiQgs you have said to-night. Ask yourself — If I
had loved you, as you seem to have expected, better
than my own soul, woidd the result have been difier-
ent ? It is too late now to say anything but — farewell.
Will you not say it, as I do, kindly, or at least not
in anger — Guy ? '
She paused between the last two words, and their
imploring accent was almost piteous. There must
198 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
have been a strange fascination about Livingstone,
for, saint as she was, no other living creature would
have won such a concession from the Christian
charity of Constance Brandon.
Had Guy spoken then, as he ought to have done, I
believe all might have been amended ; but an angry
devil was busy within him, and would not let go his
prey ; he stood with his black brows downcast, and
with folded arms, never seeming to notice the slender
fingers that sought to touch his hand. True it is,
that nothing makes a man so unforgiving as the con-
sciousness of having inflicted a bitter wrong. lie
heard a sigh, heavy and despaii-ing as Francesca's
when her d^'ing prayer was spurned, a light shadow
flitted across the streak of moon-lit grass, and, when
he raised his head, he was left alone, lilie Alp on the
sea-shore, to judge the battle between a remorseful
conscience and a hardened heart.
Livingstone was seen no more that night ; Con-
stance glided in, alone, and her absence had been
scarcely noticed. During the short time that she re-
mained, no one could have guessed from her face that
her heart was broken, any more than did Napoleon that
the aid-de-camp who brought the news of Lannes'
victory had been almost cut in two by a grape-shot.
I speak it diflidently, with the fear of the Diviue
Voice of the People before my eyes, as is but fitting in
these equalizing days, when territories, the title to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 199
which is possession immemorial, arc being plucked
away acre by acre, and hereditary privileges mined
one by one ; but, it seems to mc, in this, perhaps
solitary attribute, * the brave old Houses * still keep
their pre-eminence.
They are not better, nor wiser in their generation
(forbid it, Manchester), nor even more daring in con-
fronting danger, than the thousands whose grandsires
are creations of a powerful fancy or of a complaisant
King-at-xirms. In that terrible charge which swept
away the E-ussian cavalry at Eylau, three lengths in
front of the best blood in France rode the innkeeper's
son. The * First Grenadier ' himself was not more
splendidly reckless, though he was a La Tour d'Au-
vergne. But in passive uncomplaining endurance,
in the power of obliterating outward tokens of suffer-
ing, physical or mental, may we not still say —
Noblesse oblige ?
Hundreds of similar isolated instances" may be
quoted from the annals of the Third Estate ; but, in
the class I speak of, this quaKty seems a sixth sense
wholly independent of, and often contradicting, the
rest of the individual's disposition.
I remember meeting in France an old Italian re-
fugee. He had not much principle, and very little
pride ; he was ready qiiidvis facere aut pati to get a
five-franc piece, which he would incontinently stake
and lose at baccarat or ecarte, as he had done afore*
200 GUY LIVINGSTO^"E.
time with a large ancestral inlieritance ; but his quiet
fortitude, under privations that were neither few nor
light, was worthy of Belisarius.
Very often, I am sure, his evening meal must have
been eaten with the Barmecide ; but his pale, hand-
some face, finished off so gracefully by the white
pointed beard, still met you, courteous and unruffled,
the ideal of an exiled Doge, or a Rohan in disgrace.
Once only I saw him moved ; when the landlord of
our inn, a vast bloated bourgeois, smote the Count
familiarly on the shoulder, and bantered him pleas-
antly on the brilliant prospects of his eldest son. It
was not unkindly meant, perhaps ; but the old man
shrunk away from the large fat hand, as if it hurt
him, and turned towards us a look piteously appealing,
which was not lost on myself or Livingstone. When
mine host, later in the evening, shook in his gouty
slippers before an ebullition of Guy^s wrath, excited
by the most shadowy pretext, I wonder if he guessed
at the remote cause of that out-pouring of the vials ?
Count Massa did, for he smiled intensely, as only an
Italian can smile when amply revenged.
One instance more to close a long digression. I
have read of a baron in the fifteenth century, who
once in his life said a good thing. He was a coarse,
brutal marauder, illiterate enough to have satisfied
Earl Angus, and as unromantic as the Integral Cal-
culus. He was mortally wounded in a skirmish ; and
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 201
when liis men came back from the pursuit, lie was
bleeding to death, resting against a tree. "When they
lifted him up, they noticed his eyes fixed with a
curious complacent expression on the red stream that
surged and gurgled out of his wound ; just as a gour-
mand looks at a bumper of a rare vintage held up to
the light. They heard him growl to himself — ' QuHl
coule, rouge et forty le hon vicux sang de Bourgogne.^
And then he fell back, dead.
PubHcola Thompson — Phosphor to the Tower
Hamlets and Boanerges of the platform — will you
not allow that, amidst a wilderness of weeds, this one
fair plant flourishes imder * the cold shade' ?
CHAPTER XXII.
Shy she was, and I thouglit her cold ;
Thought her proud, and fled over the sea ;
Filled I was with folly and spite,
When Ellen Adair was dpng for me.
"When I came to Livingstone's cliambers on the fol-
lowing morning, I found him alone. His head was
resting listlessly against the back of the vast easy
chair in which he was reclining ; and his face, thrown
out in relief against the crimson velvet, looked hag-
gard and drawn. The calumet — not of peace — was
between his lips, and the dense blue clouds were
wreathing round him Hke a Scotch mist. On a table
near lay a heap of gold and notes. He had finished
the night at his club, where lansquenet had been
raging till long after sunrise. Fortimc had been
more kind than usual, and the fruits of ' passing *
eight times lay before me. An open liqueur-case
close at his elbow showed that play was not the only
counter- excitement to which he had resorted.
I hoped to have found him in a repentant mood ;
but his first words undeceived me — * I start for Paris
by this evening's train' — and then I remarked all
about me the signs of immediate departure.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 203
I had only a confused idea of what had happened,
and was anxious to know the truth, but he was very
brief in his answers : the particulars of what had
passed I learnt long afterwards.
* Can nothing be done ? * I asked, when he had
finished all he chose to tell me ?
* Nothing,' replied Livingstone, decisively. * If
excuse or explanation had been of any use, I think I
should have tried them last night. You woidd not
advise me to humiliate myself to no purpose, I sup-
pose ? '
There is a certain scene in ^schylus which camo
into my mind just then.
A group of elderly men, with grave, rather vacuous
faces, and grizzled beards, stand in the court-yard of an
ancient palace. On one side is the peristyle, ^dth its
square stunted pillars, looking as if the weight above
crushed them, though it wearies them no more than
the heavens do Atlas ; on the other, a gateway, vast,
low-browed, shadowy with Cyclopean stones. Some-
what apart is a strange weird figure, ever and anon
starting up and tossing her arms wildly as she utters
some new denunciation, and then cowering dov/u
again in a despairing weariness. There are traces,
yet, in the thin, wan face, of the beauty which en-
slaved Loxian Apollo, and of the pride which turned
his great love into a greater hate : round it hang the
black elf-locks, dishevelled, that have never beeij
201 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
braided since the gripe of Tcliimouiaii A]ax ruffled
them so rudely. In her great troubled eyes, you
read terrible memories, and a prescience of coming
death — death, most grateful to the dishonoured
princess, but before which the frail womanhood can-
not but shudder and quail. 'No wonder that the
reverend men glance at her uneasily ; scarcely
mustering courage enough sometimes to answer her
with a pious platitude. Alas ! alas, Cassandra !
While we gaze, forth from the recesses of tlie
gynocceimi there breaks a cry, expressing rather wrath
and surprise than mere pain. Then there comes
another, more plaintive, — the moan of a strong man
in the death-throe.
We know that voice very well ; we have heard it
many times, calm and regal, above the wrangle of
councils and the roar of battle ; often it prayed for vic-
tovy, or for the people's weal ; but it never yet called
on earth or heaven to help Agamemnon. The Chorus
hear it too ; but they linger and palter, while each
gives his grave sentence deliberately in his proper
turn. One or two advise action and interference, and
stand perfectly still. At last, we hear a heavy choking
groan, and a great stillness follows. We know that
all is over — we know that there is a stir already down
there in Hades — we seem to catch a far-ofi" murmur
raised b}' a thousand weak tremulous voices — the very
ghost of a wail — as the shadows of those who died
GU\' LIVINGSTONE. 205
gallantly in tlieir harness before Troy gather to meet
tlieii- old leader — the mightiest Atride.
In the background of all, we fancy a hideous Eidolon,
from whose side even the danmed recoil in loathing.
There is a grin on the lips yet red and wet with the
traces of the unholy banquet. Th^^estes exidts over the
fulfilment of another chapter in the inevitable Curse.
Who has not grown savage over that scene ? We
hate the old drivellers less, when, a few minutes later,
they truckle and temporize with the awful Shape, who
comes forth with a splash of blood on her slender
wrist, and a speck or two on her white lofty
forehead.
Just so helpless and useless I felt at that moment.
I was standing by while a fo\A wrong was being
wrought. I saw notliing but ruin for Guy, and
desolate misery for Constance, in the black future.
Yet I could think of no argument or counsel that
would in the least avail. I felt sick at heart. It
was some minutes before I answered his last question.
At last the words broke from me almost unconsciously
■ — 'Ah! how will you answer to God and man for
last night's work ? ■'
I forgot that I was quoting the cry of the Cove-
nanter's widow, when she knelt by her husband's
corpse, and looked up into Claverhouse's fiice, with
those sad eyes, that were ever dim and cloudy after
the carbines flashed across them. But Guy re-
200 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
membercd it, and answered instantly in llie words of
liis favourite hero —
' I can answer it to man well enough ; and I will
take God in my own hand/
Years afterwards, we both recalled that fatal defi-
ance, when the speaker lay helpless, at the mercy of
the Oimiipotcnce whose might he challenged. Just
then his ser^'ant, who was busily preparing for de-
parture, entered the room.j
Willis was a slight, under-sized man, of about fifty;
his complexion was muddy and indefinite ; his small
whiskers, of a greyish red, were trimmed and pruned
as accurately as a box border- edging, and the partial
absence of eyebrows and eyelashes gave his face a
sort of unfinished look. The expression natural to
it was, I think, a low, vicious cunning ; but his
features and little green 03'es were so rigidly dis-
ciplined that, as a rule, neither had any characteristic
save utter vacuity. In his own line he was perfect.
No commission that could be intrusted to him would
draw from him a remark or a look of surprise. He
executed precisely what he was told, and fulfilled
the minutest duties of his station irreproachably,
with a noiseless, feline activity. He was like the
war-horse of the Douglas —
Though somcwliat old,
Swift ia his paces, cool, and bold.
lie held a miniature-case in his hand as he entered,
GUY I.IVINGSTOXT!. 207
* Am I to put tliis in, sir ? * he asked in the slow,
measured voice that was hahitual to him.
His master gazed sharply at him, as if trying to
detect a covert sneer — it would have been safer to
have stroked a rattle-snake's crest than to have trifled
with Livingstone just then — but Willis's face was as
innocent of any expression as a dead wall.
^ Put it down, and go on with your packing ; you
have no time to spare.' The man laid the case on a
marble table near, and went out.
Guy took the miniature and regarded it steadfastly
for some moments, then he looked up and caught my
eye. Perhaps there was an eager appeal there (for I
knew well whose likeness lay before him) which dis-
pleased and provoked his sullen temper ; for he
fro^vned darkly, and then his clenched hand fell with
the crushing weight of a steam-hammer. I^othing
but a heap of shivered wood, glass, and ivory re-
mained of what had been the life-like image of Con-
stance Brandon.
A thrill of horror shot through me, icily, and a low
cry burst from my lips. I felt at that moment as if
tlie blow had fallen not on the portrait, but on the
original.
But I kept silence. The dark hour was on Saul,
and I knew no spell to chase the evil spirit away.
Guy sj^oks at last. Ilis manner was unusually
chill and constrained.
208 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
' I expect to meet !Mohuu in Paris, and we shall
probably go on to Vienna. I hardly like troubling
j'ou with commissions ; but I must. Listen. I leave
my own name — and another person's — in your keep-
ing. I wish it to be clearly understood that the en-
gagement was broken off by Miss Brandon — not by
me. If 3'ou hear any man speak disparagingly of her,
in connection with what has passed, you can insult
him, on my behalf, as grossly as you please. I will
be here, as ftist as steam can bring me, to back what
you may have said or done. This is the only point
in which I hope you will guard my honour. As for
blaming mc — they may say what they please. Do
you quite understand ? And will you promise ? '
I did promise ; and so, after a few more last words,
we parted, more coldly that we had ever done in all
the years through which we had been intimate.
Guy left England the same evening, and descended
like a thunder-clap on the joyous little menage in the
Eue de la Madeleine, where Forrester and his bride
were still fluttering theii* wings in the honeymoon-
ehine of post-nuptial spring.
They were miraculously happy, those two. Indeed,
they seemed to have only one taste between them, and
that was Charley's. If he felt inclined, which was not
seldom, to utter inaction, his wife encouraged him in
his laziness — sitting contentedly for hours on her
footstool, with her silky hair just within reach of his
GTTY MVIXf.'STONK. 209
indolent hand. If, after dinner, lie suggested tlie
* Italiens/ or tlie ' Bouffes/ it was always precisely
that theatre that she had been thinking of all the
morning. She was in the seventh heaven when he
won a hurdle race in the Champ de Mars.
They made excursions into the banlleice, and further
afield yet, like a couple of the Pa7/s Latin in their
first loves. The cabinets of Bercy and St Cloud knew
them ; so did the arbours of Asnieres, where, in oil-
skin and vareuse, muster for their Sabbat the ancient
mariners of the Seine. Nay, it has been whispered,
that, more than once — close-veiled and clinoin<>
tightly to her husband's arm — Isabel witnessed at
Ilabille and. the Chaumiere the chorographic triumphs
of Frisette, Pomare, and Mocjador.
My hand trembles while I record such enormities
and backslidings. Brougham-girls of Belgravia,
who 'never gave your mothers a moment's uneasiness/
— stars of the western hemisphere, who can be trusted
anywhere, without fear of your wandering from your
orbits — think on this lost Pleiad, once your com-
X)anion, and be warned. Men are deceivers ever,
even when they mean matrimony ; and the tender
mercies of the light dragoon are cruel.
Isabel was dreadfully startled at the sudden appear-
ance of her cousin. Her notions of his power were
quite unlimited and irrational ; and, I believe, her first
thought was, that he luid changed his mind about the
210 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
propriety of her marriage, and was come to carry her
back into the house of her bondage with the strong
hand.
When his curt sentences told her the facts, sorry as
she was, it certainly was rather a relief to her. Charley
was full of compassion, too, but he only confided this
to his \\iSo. lie knew better than to try condolence
with Guy, and felt instantly that the case was far be-
yond his simple powers of heaKng.
They did not see much of him. The contrast of
their happiness with his own state must have grated
on his feelings. His grim presence chilled and
clouded their little banquets at the Trois Freres, or
the Cafe de Paris. lie sat there amongst the bright
lamps and flowers, like a statue of dark marble that
it is impossible to light up ; drinking all the while,
moodily, of the strongest wines to that portentous ex-
tent that it made Isabel nervous and her husband
grave.
Perhaps Guy was conscious of the effect he produced;
at all events he rather avoided the Forresters, finding
in Mohun more congenial society. The latter pro-
bably regretted what had happened; perhaps he felt an
approach to sympathy, after his rough fashion ; but
with this mingled a dreary sort of satisfaction at the
sight of a strong mind and hardy nature rapidly de-
scending to his own misanthropical level. Such an
exultation was breathed in that ghastly chorus of the
GUY LIVINGSTONE.
211
dead Kings and Chief Ones of the Earth, when they
rose, each on his awful throne, and Hell from beneath
was moved, at the advent of The Son of the Morning.
These two did not stay long in Paris, before they
took their departure for Vienna.
We who were left behind in England talked a lit-
tle at first, of course, about the broken engagement ;
but I had no occasion to throw down the gauntlet
that had been left in my hands. I never heard any-
thing more spiteful about Miss Brandon than that
* she was never suited to her fiance — far too good for
him.' Others * had always thought how it would be ;
it would take a good deal more yet to tame Living-
stone.* Sir Henry Fallowfield observed — * Nothing
could be more natural and correct. The lady was a
saint ; and there is always a sort of incompleteness
about saints, if they are not made martyrs. Sufiering
is their normal state.'
It was remarked that he was unusually cheerful for
some dajs afterwards ; and when Guy's conduct was
canvassed, seemed inclined to quote the old school-
master's words, on witnessing his pupil's success — •
* Bless the ooy ! I taught him.'
Some other subject soon came up, and replaced the
week's wonder.
Constance left town with her uncle almost immedi*
ately ; and I heard nothing more of her for many
months. Miss Bellasys remained. Very few persons
212 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
even guessed at the share slic had had in breaking off
the match ; so her credit was not much impaired, and
her campaign was as brilliantly successful as usual.
If she felt any disappointment at Guy's abrupt de-
parture, she concealed it remarkably well. In some
things, though naturally impetuous and impatient,
she was as cool as a Red Indian, and would wait and
watch for ever, if she saw a prospect of ultimate suc-
cess. So the days rolled on, bringing swiftly and
surely the bitter harvest- time, when he who had sown
the wind was to reap the whirlwind.
213
CHAPTER XXIII.
And from his lips those words of insult fell —
His sword is good who can maintain them well.
It was the middle of October ; the reflux of the winter
season was beginning to fill Paris, and thither Mohun
and Livingstone had returned from their German tour ;
the latter decidedly the worse for his wanderings.
He had not sufiered much physically ; for the hard
living that would have utterly broken up some con-
stitutions had only been able to make his face rather
thinner, to deepen the bistre tints under the eyes, and
to give a more angular gauntness to his massive frame.
But morally he was not the same man. Play,
which had formerly been only an occasional excite-
ment, had now become a necessary part of his daily
existence. Mohun would never say — perhaps he did
not know — how much Guy had lost during those few
months. In spite of several gigantic coups (he broke
the bank both at Baden and Hombourg), the balance
was fearfully on the wrong side ; so much so, that it
entailed a heavy mortgage — the maiden one in his
time— on the fair lands of Kerton Manor.
214 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
I wonder people have not got tired of quoting —
^Ilcureuxcnjcu; malhcurcux en amour J It seems
one of the least true of aU stale, stupid proverbs.
Luck will run itself out in more waj'S than one ; and
sometimes you will never hold a trump, however often
the suit changes. The ancients knew better than wc,
when they called the double-sixes — * Ycnus's cast.'
The monotony of Guy's reckless dissipations was soon
broken by an event which ought to have sobered him.
; lie had been dining ^*ith Mohun at the Trois Freres,
and they were returning late towards the Boulevards,
when their attention ^vas attracted by a group in one
of the narrow streets leading out of the Rue Yivienne.
Five or six raffish-looking men had surrounded a fair,
delicate girl, and were preparing to besiege her in
form ; deriving apparently intense amusement from
the piteous entreaties of their victim to be released.
Kot the roues of the Regency after the suppers that
have become a by-word — not the mousquetaircs after
the wildest of their orgies — were ever so unrelenting
in brutality towards women quite lonely and unde-
fended, as those unshorn ornaments of Yoimg France,
when replete with a dinner at forty sous, and with
the anomalous liquor that Macon blushes to own.
In all Europe there is no more genial companion
and gallant gentleman than the aristocrat of France
pur sang — in all the world no more terrible adversary
than her wiry, well-trained soldier ; but, from the
GtJy LIVINGSTONE. 2l5
prolific decay of old institutions and prejudices, a
musliroom-growth has sprouted of child- atheists and
precocious profligates, calculating debauchees while
their checks are still innocent of doTni ; who, after the
effervescence of a foul, vicious youth has spent itself,
simmer down into avaricious, dishonest bourgeois and
bloated caf^-politicians. The teeth of the Eepublican
Dragon have been drawn, but they are sown broad-
cast from Dan even to Beersheba. Ancient realm of
Capet, Yalois, and Bourbon — Motherland of Du
Gucsclin and Bayard — you may well be proud of your
Cadmean offspring !
Guy was passing the scene with a careless side
glance, when the accent of the suppKant caught hia
ear — not French, though she spoke the language
perfectly.
* By G— d,' he said, dropping Mohun's arm, * I be-
lieve it's an Englishwoman they are bullying ; ' and
three of his long strides took him into the midst of
the group.
Two of the aggressors reeled back right and left,
from the shock of his mighty shoulders ; and griping
another, the tallest, by his collar, he whirled him
some paces off on his back in the streaming kennel,
as one might do with a very weak, light, little child.
* Au large canaille ! * he said, as he advanced on the
two who still kept their feet. These drew back from
his path -without a second warning. One indeed,
216 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
cmiuent in tlie savafc, made a demonstration for an
instant ; but his comrade, wlio had just gathered him-
self up, caught his arm, muttering, Ne fy frotte pas,
AIpJio7ise. Cest trop dur! None of them fancied an
encounter with the grim giant "svho confronted them
- -his muscles braced and salient — his eves gleaming
w^ith the gaudia certajnmis, and his nostrils dilated,
as if they snuffed the battle.
So they made way for Guy and his charge to pass,
only grinding out between their teeth the strange
guttural blasphemies that characterize impotent Gallic
wrath.
Mohun, a reserve scarcely less formidable, stood by
all the while, looking on lazily ; he saw that his com-
panion was more than equal to the emergency.
* I hope you have not been much annoyed,' Living-
stone said, kindly. ^ Where were you going to ? I
shall be too happy to escort you, if you will allow
me.'
She named the street, only a few hundred yards
off, and tried to thank him gratefully ; but her voice
was broken and scarcely audible, and the blinding
tears would rush into her eyes. Poor child ! it was
very long since she had heard gentle, courteous words
in her mother tongue. She recovered herself, how-
ever, during their short walk, and they had nearly
reached her destination when Livingstone said, ' For-
give me for being impertinent ; I have no right to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 217
advise you ; but I tliink j'ou will find it better not to
walk alone, often, at this hour. There is always a
chance of something disagreeable.'
He could see her blush painfully, as she answered,
* I have no one to accompany me. I work hard at
drawing and painting as long as there is light ; and
I had gone out to see if I could sell what I have done.
But I fear I am a very poor artist ; no one would
offer me as much as they had cost me. And I tried
at so many places ! '
It was piteous to hear the heav}^, heart-broken
sigh.
* Perhaps I have better taste,' replied Livingstone.
* Those printsellers are absurdly ignorant of what is
good and anonymous. At all events, they will in-
terest me, as a memorial of to-night. Will you give
them to me ? I will promise not to be too critical.'
He drew the roll out of her hand, as she spoke, re-
placing it by his note-case ; and before she could open
it, or make any objection, he followed Mohun (for they
had reached the artist's door hj this time), first rais-
ing his hat to her, in adieu, as courteously as he
would have done to a reigning archduchess.
How much did the case contain ? Gruy himself
could hardly have told you. But, be sure, the Re-
corder of his many misdeeds knew, and reckoned it
to the uttermost farthing, when he wrote down that
one kind action on the credit side.
218 GUT LmNGSTO:>E.
' Philanthropic, for a change ! ' Mohun remarked,
when his companion joined him. ' Well ! it's not
worse than many of your yagarics. We shall have
you founding an asylum next, I suppose ? '
In his heart the savage old cjoiic approved ; but,
for the life of him, he could not check the sneer.
Livingstone made no reply. It was a habit of his,
very often not to answer Ralph ; and the latter did
not mind it in the least. In a few moments they
reached Guy's apartments, where they found abaut a
dozen men — French and English — awaiting their
arrival to begin an unbridled lansquenet. It was a
favourite rendezvous for this purpose. The thorough-
bred gamblers preferred it to the brilliant entertain-
ments of the Quartier BrMa. They liked to court or
fight Fortune by themselves, without being congratu-
lated in success or compassionated in defeat by the
fair PhrjTies and Aspasias, whose s^Tupathy was
somewhat expensive ; inasmuch as they always would
borrow from the heap whenever any one won, repay-
ing the loan in kind by smiles and caresses, which
cost the happy recipient about fifteen I^apoleons
apiece. Here was an Eden from which Eves were
excluded : and on the nights of the Mercurialia, the
brightest Peri that ever wore camellias might have
knocked at the gate disconsolately, but in vain.
While the tables were being prepared, Guy began
to tell his late adventure. lie spoke of it very lightly,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 219
but he tlioiiglit if he passed it over altogether, Mohun
would probably betray him.
Immediately there was a great cry for a sight of
the performances of the unknown genius.
Livingstone looked over the drawings himself care-
fully, and then passed them to the man who sat
nearest him. * I have seen worse,' he said. * There
is no signatui'e, and I shall not give you the address.
You are none of you just the patrons slie would fancy.
You don^t care much for high art.'
Amongst the guests was Ilorace Levinge, a pale,
dark man, with a face that was decidedly handsome,
in spite of its Jewish contour, and the excessive fulness
of the scarlet, sensual lips. His grandfather, report
said, had been a prize-fighting Israelite, and after-
wards a celebrated betting-man — equally eminent in
either Hing for an unscrupulous scoundi^elism which
made his fortune. His father had added to the family
treasure and importance by cautious usury and adven-
turous stock-jobbing. Horace himself was a gentle-
man at large, vdth no other profession than the con-
sistent pursuit of all kinds of debauchery. He was
calculating even in his pleasures; and, they say,
kept a regular ledger and day-book of the moneys dis-
bursed in his vices.
When the drawings came to him, he glanced at
them for a moment, and then threw them down with
^ little contemptuous laugh.
220 GUY IJVIXGSTONE.
' I am sorry to spoil your romance, Liviiigsfone ;
but I have a pretty good right to recognize the artist's
touch. You know her, some of you : it is Fanny
Challoncr?'
' AVhat, the girl you sent away about three weeks
ago?' someone asked. ^Poor thing! she was not
Borr}', I should think. She had a hard time of it be-
fore she left you.'
'Precisely,' Lc\dngc replied. *IIcr modest}^ and
high moral principles, which I never could quite sub-
due, gave a zest to the thing at first. You imder-
stand ; — a sort of caviare flavour. But at last it bored
me horribly. I really believe she had a conscience.
Can you conceive anything so out of place ? I did offer
her a little money when she went away ; but she
would not take anj-, and said she would try to main-
tain herself honestly. Bah ! I defy her. She was
a governess, you know, when I took her first ; so she
is trying some of the old accomplishments. I wish
3'ou joy of y OUT prof cffce, Livingstone ; and as for her
address, if any of you want it, I vrill give it you to-
morrow.'
Before Guy could reply, Mohun broke in. A\liile
Levinge had been spealdng, the colonel's face had
grown very dark and threatening.
' Did her fiither live near Walmer ? And was he a
half-pay officer ? '
' Quite correct,' was the answer. 'lie died about
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 221
eigliteen montlis before I met Fanny. You knew liim,
perhaps ? How interesting ! Excuse my emotion.'
* I did know him/ E-alph said. * He was a gentle-
man, and well born. Perhaps that was the reason
you could not get on long with his daughter ? ^
It is a popular error, that a bully is always a
coward. Certainly Horace was an exception to the
rule, if such exists. Nothing could be more calmly
insolent than his tone, as he answered deliberately —
* How admirable to find Colonel Mohun in the cha-
racter of the Censor ! A Clodius come to judgment.
I should hardly have expected it, from his past life,
either.'
The reply came from the depths of Ralph's chest,
very distinct, but with a strange effect of distance and
echo, as if the words had been spoken under the vault
of some vast dome.
* You will leave my past life alone, if you are wise.
I don't preach against immorality ; it is only brutality
that I find simply disgusting.'
* Bah ! ' the other retorted. * It comes to the same
thing. I shoidd have thought Lady Caroline Man-
ncring might have taught you to be less critical.'
The cuirassier rose from his seat, and strode a pace
forwards, the grey hair bristling round his savage
face, lil^e a wild boar's at bay.
* If you dare to breathe that name again^ except
222 GUT LIVINGSTONE
with respect and honour — I'll cram the words down
your throat, by the Eternal God ! '
Levinge crimsoned with passion. The brutal blood
of the dead prize-fighter, who, when he ' crossed ' a
fight, lost it ever by a foid blow, was boiling in his
descendant. He had been drinking, too, and, as the
French say — avaii le tin maiicais — so he answered
coldly and slowly, letting the syllables fall one by
one lOvO drops of hail —
*I shall mention it just as often as it pleases me;
and with just so much respect as is due to Manner-
ing's cast-ofi" wife and your — '
The fold word that was on his lips never left tliem,
for Mohun's threat was literally fulfilled. His right
hand shot out from the shoulder, with a sudden
impulse that seemed rather mechanical than an action
of the will, and catching the speaker full in the moutb,
laid him on the carpet, senseless, and streaming with
blood.
223
. CHAPTEPt XXIY.
Look doun, look doun now, layde fair,
On liim ye lo'ed sae weel :
A bi-a\ver man than yon blue corse
Never drew sword of steel.
The dead silence that ensued was broken first by Guy
Livingstone. ' It was well done ! I say it, and main-
tain it ; Moluin, I envy you that blow ! ' He looked
round, as if to cliaUenge contradiction ; but evidently
the general opinion was, that Levinge bad only got
his deserts. By this time the fallen man had recovered
his consciousness, and struggled up, first into a sitting
posture, then to his feet ; he stood leaning against a
table, swaying to and fro, and staring about him Tvith
wild eyes half- glazed. At last he spoke in a thick,
faint voice, stanching all the while the gushing blood
with his handkerchief.
' Will any one here be my second ? or must I look
for a friend elsewhere ? '
There was a pause ; and then from the circle stepped
forth Camille De Eosny. He did not like Levinge,
iind thought in the present instance he had behaved
224 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
infamously, but it was tlie faslilon hereditary in liis
gallant house to back the losing side ; so, when he
saw every one else shrink from the appeal, he bowed
gravely and said —
* I shall have that honour, if you will permit me.
In an hour I shall be at the orders of M. le Colonel's
second. Where shall I find him ? '
^ Here,' replied Livingstone. * I think no one will
contest my right to see my old friend through this
quarrel.'
Mohun grasped his hand. * I would have chosen
you among a thousand. You understand me, and
know what I wish.'
* Then I shall expect 3^ou, De Eosny ? ' Guy went
on : the Frenchman assented courteously, and then,
turning to his principal —
* Let us go/ he said. * My coupe is at your disposi-
tion, M. Levingc. Messieurs, au plaisir.*
Horace followed him with a step that was still fal-
tering and imcertain ; but, at the door he turned, and
straightening himself up, faced his adversary with such
a look as few human countenances have ever worn.
There was more in it than mortal hatred ; it expressed
a sort of devilish satisfaction and anticipation, as if he
knew that his revenge was secui-ed.
Mohun read all this as plainly as if it had been
written down in so many words ; but he only smiled,
as he seated himself, and lighted a cigar.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 225
There was an end of lansquenet for that night. An
ordinary quarrel would have made little impression on
those reckless sj)irits, who had, most of them, at one
time or another, ' been out * themselves ; but they felt
that what they had witnessed now was the prologue to
a certain tragedy ; there was a savoui* of death in the
air ; so they droj)ped off, one by one, leaving Guy and
Ralph alone ; not before the latter had expressed,
with much politeness, his ' desolation at having been
compelled to interrupt apay^tie, which he trusted was
only deferred till the morrow/
Before long De E,osny returned. The preliminaries
were soon arranged. Pistols were necessarily to be the
weapons, for Levinge had seldom touched a foil ; and,
as the Frenchman said with a bow that made his ob-
jection a compliment, * Colonel Mohun's reputation as
a swordsman was European.^ An early hour next
morning was fixed for the ve?itie, in the Pre aux Clercs
of the nineteenth century — the Bois de Boulogne.
When they were alone again, Guy turned gravely to
his companion. * It is a bad business, I fear, though
you could not have acted otherwise; but I would
rather your adversary were any one than Levinge. It
is a murderous, unscrupulous scoundrel as ever lived.
He can shoot — that's nothing, so can you, better than
most men — but, mark me, Ralph, he has been out
twice, and hit his man each time, the last mortally ;
ut on neither occasion was his fire returned. Men
226 V.VY LIVINGSTONE.
say he has au awkward knack of pulling the trigger
half a second too soon. I don't know if this is true ;
but I do know that Seymour, who seconded him at
Florence when he killed O'Neill, has been more than
cool to him ever since/
* Faith, I can well believe it,' Mohun answered,
quietly, * and it is very probable I may get hard hit
to-morrow; but of killing him I feel morally cer-
tain. Do you believe in presentiments ? I do.
Before that di'unken brute had half done speaking,
I saw imminent death written in his face, as plainly
as if I had possessed the Highland second-sight. I
think I could almost tell you how it will look n/ler
my shot. TVell, we must talk of business. My ar-
rangements won't take me long. I have very little
to dispose of, it is almost all entailed property. I shall
leave you the choice of anything among my goods
and chattels. You will find some arms that you may
fancy. But if my pistols ftiil me to-morrow, so that
Levinse lives over it, do me the favour to throw them
into the Seine ; they deserve nothing better. As for
the ready-money I have with me, and some more at
my bankers — ' he hesitated, and then went on in a
gentler voice, *I should Hke it to go to that poor
child whom we met to-night. If I live I will take
care she is settled in England, where some one will
be kind to her. Her father was a good soldier, and
a true-hearted gentleman. And, Guy, I am sorry
GirV LiVlNGSTOKE. 227
that I sneered at you to-night ; I hardly meant it,
when I said it/
This was a great concession from Mohun, and his
hearer thought so, as he wrung his hand hard, and
replied,
* Don't think of that again. I did you justice an
hour ago.' ^
There was this peculiarity about Ralph ; he was
not only insensible to danger, like other men, but he
absolutely seemed to revel in it. The genial side of
his character came out at the approach of deadly peril,
just as some morose natures will soften and brighten
temporarily under the influence of strong wine.
His mood seemed to change, however, suddenly ;
and when, after a long pause, he spoke again, it was
in a low, broken voice, as if to himself.
*■ " Be sure your sin will find you out." It is thirty
years since I heard that text ; I forgot it the same
day, and never thought of it again till now. There
may be truth in that. It hunted her to her grave,
and it will not leave her in peace, even there. And
yet she suffered enough to make atonement. She
tried not to let me see how much, but I did see it ; I
watched her dying for a year and more. I am sure
she is an angel now. I like to think so, though I
shall never see her again. I would not believe other-
wise if a thousand priests said it and swore it ; for I
never moved from her side, after she was dead, till I
228 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
saw tlie smile come on her face. She must have been
happy then; do you not think so? They would
hardly have gone on, punishing her for ever. It was
all my fault, you know.'
He gazed at Livingstone anxiously, almost timidl3^
Guy bowed his head in assent, but he could not find
words to answer just then. There was something
very terrible in that opening of the flood-gates, when
a life's pent-up remorse broke forth.
' I think you will end better than I have done/
Mohun went on ; ' though you are going down-hill
fast now. But I have no right even to warn you.
Only, take care — .' He broke off suddenly, and
roused himself with an effort. * I shall go home and
dress now, and get through what little I have to write,
and then lie down for an hour or two. Nothing
makes the hand shake like a sleepless night. I'll
call for 3^ou in good time.' So he went away.
Livingstone sat thinking, without ever closing his
eyes, till Mohun returned. The latter looked fresh
and alert ; he had slept for the time he had allotted to
himself quite calmly and comfortably — the old habits
of picquet-duty had taught him to watch or sleep at
pleasure.
After Guy had made a careful toilette, at the
special request of his principal, they started, and in
forty minutes were on the ground. Levingc and his
second, with the surgeon, arrived almost immediately;
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 229
the former stood somewhat apart, keeping the lower
part of his face carefully muffled.
It was a dull, chill morning ; the sky of a steely-
grey, without a promise of a gleam from the sun,
which had risen somewhere, but was reserving himself
for better times. There was a desultory sort of wind
blowing, just strong enough at intervals to bring the
moist brown leaves sullenly down.
After the pistols had been scientifically loaded, the
seconds placed their men fifteen yards apart — with
such known shots it was not worth while shortening
the distance.
The sensations of ordinary mortals under such cir-
cumstances are somewhat curious. Yery few are
afraid, I think ; but one has an impression that one's
own proportions are becoming sensibly developed —
' swelling wisibly,' in fact, like the lady at the Pick-
wickian tea-fight — while those of our adversary
diminish in a like ratio, so that he does not appear
near so fair a mark as he did a few minutes ago.
But, with all this, there is a quickening of the pulse
not unpleasurable — something like the excitement of
the ^ four to the seven ' chance at hazard, when you
are backing the In for a large stake.
I do not believe Mohun felt anything of this sort.
It was not his own life, but his adversary's death he
was playing for ; the other was busy, too, with still
darker thoughts and purposes.
230 Gtt LIVINGSTON^:.
' Listen,' Guy said in French ; ' M. de Pcosny gives
the signal, w;?, deuXy trois ; if either fires before the
last is fully pronounced, it is murder/ He looked
sharpl}^ at Levinge ; but the latter seemed studiously
to avoid meeting his ej'e. Guy felt very uncomfort-
able and very savage.
The men stood opposite to one another, like black
marble statues, neither showing a speck of colour
which might serve as a j)oint de mirc^ each turning
only a side-front to his opponent.
De E,osny pronoimced the two first words of llic
signal in a clear, deliberate voice ; the last left his
lips almost in a shriek, for, before it was half syllabled,
his principal fired.
Quick as the movement was, it was anticipated ; as
Levinge's hand stirred, Mohun made a half-face to
the right, and looked his enemy straight between the
eyes. That sudden change of position, or the con-
sciousness of detection, probably unsettled the prac-
tised aim, for the ball, that would have drilled
Ralph through the heart, only scored a deep furrow
in his side.
Kg one could have guessed that he was touched ; he
brought his pistol to the level just as coolly as he
vrould have done in the shooting-gallery, and, after
the discharge, dropped his hand with measured de-
liberation. Before the smoke had curled a yard up-
wards, Horace Levinge sprang into the air, and, with
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 231
outstretched arms, fell crasliing down upon (lie grass
— a bullet through, his brain.
They turned him over on his back. It was a ghastly-
sight ; the ball had penetrated just below the arch of
the right eyebrow, and all the lower features were
swollen and distorted with the blow of last night,
adding to the hideous disfigurement.
Is that the face on which the dead man used to
spend hours, tending it, like an ancient coquette, with
washes and cosmetics, dreading the faintest freckle or
suuburn which might mar the smoothness of the deli-
cate skin ? No need of the surgeon there. Cover it
up quickly — the mother that bore him, if she could
recognize it, would recoil in disgust and loathing.
* Cen estfiniy Livingstone said to De Rosny, who
stood by shuddering in horror, not at the death, but
at the treachery which had preceded it.
None but a Frenchman could have given such an
accent to the low hissing reply — ^ je Vesjjh'e.^
Then they looked to Mohun's wound ; it was no-
thing serious — there were a dozen deeper on the war-
worn body and limbs. Indeed, I imagine his general
health was materially benefited by the blood-letting.
The first remark he made was, when he was deposit-
ing his pistol in its case — tenderly as you would lay
a child in its cradle — *Do you believe in presenti-
ments 7ioiOy Guy ? *
The sullen sun broke out just as they turned to go,
232 GUY LIVING STONE.
and peered curiously through the boughs till it found
out and lighted on the angular ominous heap,
shrouded with a cloak, that, ten minutes ago, was a
strong, hot-blooded man.
There the garde soon after discovered Horace
Levinge ; and, when he had been owned, they buried
him in Pere la Chaise. Such events were common
then, and the police gave themselves no trouble to
trace who had slain the stranger. Amongst his tribes-
men and kinsfolk in Hounsditch and the Minories
there was great joy at first, and afterwards bitter,
endless litigation. They screamed and battled over
the heritage like vultures over a mighty carrion —
tearing it at length piecemeal. He did not keep a
pet dog, and so no living creature regretted him,
unless it were the thin delicate girl, with white checks
and hollow eyes, who came once and knelt to pray by
his grave for hours, her tears falling fast.
Hard as they may find it to observe other precepts
of the Great Master, this one, at least, most women
have practised easily and naturally for eighteen
hundred years — 'Forgive, until seventy times seven.*
The acts of some of these — how they warred with
their husbands and were worsted ; how they provoked
the presiding Draco, and stultified the atttesting
policeman, by obstinately ignoring their injuries
written legibly in red, and black, and blue ; how they
interceded with many sobs for the aggressor — are
GLT LIVINGSTONE. 233
they not written in the book of the chronicles of Bow
Street and Clerkenwell ?
This propensity leads them into scrapes, it is true,
for our world in its wisdom will take advantage of
such weakness. Perhaps the next will make them
some amends.
But the mourner strewed no flowers on the grave.
It would have been too bitter a mockery ; for, if there
were sympathy in sweet roses and pure white lilies,
on no other spot of God^s earth would they have
withered so soon ; she hung up no wreath of inmior-
tclles; for, if such things could be, the dearest wish
one could have formed for the dead man's soul would
have been swift, utter annihilation.
Yet Fanny Challoner would scarcely have accepted
Mohun's good offices, if she had guessed that the blood
of her seducer and tyrant was on his hand. She never
suspected it, and so went gratefully to the home he
found for her ; and there she lives yet, tranquil and
contented, though always sad and humble, among
people who know nothing of her history and love her
dearly, trying her best to be useful in her generation
— alone in her cottage that nestles under a sunny
cliff, just above the white spray-line of the Irish Sea.
234
CnAPTER XXY.
Let me see her once again,
Let her hring her proud dark eyes,
And her petulant quick replies ;
Let her wave her slender hand
"With its gesture of command,
And throw back her raven hair
With the old imperial air ;
Let her be as she was then —
The loveliest lady in all the land
Iseult of Ireland.
MoHL'N and Liviugstone soon fell back into the groove
of their old habits ; if anything, the former was more
forbidding and morose; the latter, more reckless than
es'er.
Just at this time, Mrs Bellasys and her daughter
arrived in Paris. It was Flora's debut there, and she
had an immense success. The jcunesse dor4e of Iho
Chaussee d'Antin, and the cavaliers of the Faubourg,
thronged about her, emulously enthusiastic. Her
repartees and sarcasms were quoted like Talleyrand's.
They never wearied in raving over her perfections,
taking them in a regular catalogue — from her magnifi-
cent eyes and hair that flashed back the light from its
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 235
emootli bands, like clouded steel, down to tlie small
h^odequias of white satin, which it was her fancy to
wear instead of the ball-room chaussure of ordinary
mortals. The intrigues to secure her for a waltz or a
mazurka displa^^ed diplomatic talent enough to have
set half-a-dozen German principalities and powers by
the ears. The succession of admirers was never broken;
as fast as one dropped off, killed by her coldness or
caprice, another stepped into his place. It reminded
one of the old * Die-hards' at Waterloo, filling up their
squares torn and ravaged by the pelting grape-shot.
Here, as elsewhere, she pursued her favourite amuse-
ment, remorselessly. Fallowfield called it * her cut-
ting-out expeditions.' She used to watch, till a mother
and daughter had, between them, secured a good
matrimonial prize, and then employ her fascinations
on the captured one — seldom without effect — so as to
steal him out of their hands.
Do you remember Waterton's story of the osprey?
The hard-working bird, by dint of perseverance, has
brought up a good fish. Just as it emerges from the
water, there is heard a flap and a whistle of mighty
pinions ; and, from his watch-tower on the cliff fiir
above, swoops down the great sea-eagle. The poor
osprey a beau crier, it must drop its booty ; and the
strong marauder sails off with a slow and dignified
flight, to discuss it in the wood at his leisure. The
only faidt in the parallel was, that Flora always
236 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
dropped tlic prey, with the coolest disdain, when it
was once fairly within her clutches. How the
match-makers did hate her ! AMiat vows for her dis-
comfiture must have been breathed into bouquets,
held up to conceal the angry flush of disappointment,
or the paleness of despair !
I own this practice of hers did not raise her in my
opinion. I cannot thmk so hardly as it is the fashion
to do, of the junior and working members, at least, of
the manoeuvring Guild. It is not an elevating or
very creditable profession, certainly ; but it seems
such a disagreeable one, that none would take it up
from choice. The chief fault, at all events, lies with
the trainers; the jocke3^s (poor little things!) only
ride to orders ; and, by-the-wa}^, I think they
generally err in not knovring how to waity and in
making the running too strong at first.
As I meet, year after year, one of these — to whom
the seed sown in London ball-rooms and German
watering-places had produced nothing yet but those
tiresome garlands of the vestal — I look curiously to see
how she wears, thinking of the courtier's answer to
Louis XI Y., when the latter asked if he was looking
older — ' Sire, I see some more victories written on
your forehead.' It is more defeats that one can read
80 plainl}' on poor Fanny Singleton's.
How many shipwrecks close to port ; how many
races lost by a head ; how many games, by a point,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 237
slio must have known, before her silver laugh became
so hollow, and her pleasant smile so evidentl}^ theatri-
cal and lip-deep ; before what once was chanceful
became desperate, and she fell back into the ranks of
the forlorn hope — of the * liOst Children ! '
On one of these occasions I met her. She was just be-
ginning her condotticre life then, and was ver}^ attract-
ive even to those on whom she had no designs — be-
lieved in balls, and had an ingenious talent for original
composition. I don't think those entertainments are
dangerously exciting to her now; and Heaven forcfend
that she should write poetry ! One shudders to think
of what it would be. Well — she was returning to the
house after a moonlight flirtation (if you can call it so,
when it was all on one side). She had been trying to
fascinate a stupid, sullen, commercial Orson — a boy
not clever, but cimning, w^ho calculated on his share in
the Bank as a means of procuring him these amuse-
ments, as other men might reckon on their good looks
or soft tongue. He had just left her, and I was wishing
her good night under the porch ; she forgot her cue for
a moment and became natural. — * I feel so very, very
tired,' she said. I remember how drearily she said it,
and how the tears glittered in her weary eyes. I re-
member, too, how, ten minutes later, I heard that
amiable youth boasting of what had happened, and
giving a hideous travestie of her attempts to captivate
him ; till at last my wrath was kindled, and, to his
238 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
great confusion (for he was of a timid disposition), I
623oke, and sharply, with my tongue.
Ah, me ! I mind the time when men used to way-
lay Fanny Singleton in the cloak-room, and shoot her
flying as she went up the staircase, in their anxiety
to secure her for a partner ; and now — she is a refuge
for the destitute, except when some one, for old
acquaintance sake, takes a turn with one of the best
waltzers in Europe.
I like her for one thing — she has never tried the
gu'lish dodge on yet. She has never been heard to
eay * Mamma always calls me a wild thing.^ It is
better that she should be bitter and sardonic, as she
is sometimes, than that. Mars herself could hardly
play the ingenues, when in mature age. Grisi's best
part now is not Amina.
The last thing I heard of Fanny was, that she was
about to unite herself (the actice voice is iho, proper
one) to a very Low Church clergyman, a distinguished
member of the Evangelical Alliance, pregnant with
the odour of sanctity — bouquet de Baptiste treble dis-
tilled. I dare say they will get on well enough. If
the holy man wants to collect * experiences,' his wife
wiU be able to furnish them, — that's certain. It will
be very ' sweet.'
I pity, but I condemn. In the name of Matuta,
and of common sense, is there an imperative necessity
that all our maids should become matrons ?
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 239
If sucli exists, think, I beseecli you, virgins —
pretty but penniless — apt for tlie yoke, liow many
chances of subjection may turn up, without rushing
to put your necks under it. Is the aspiring race of
H.E.I.C.S. cadets extinct ? Are Erin's sons so good
or so cold, as not to be tempted by woman, even witii
out the gold? Are tliere not soldiers still to the fore,
too inflammable to bo trusted near an ammunition
waggon ? Are there not — the boime louche comes last
— are there not priests and deacons ? The instant
that a man takes orders, celibacy becomes intolerable
to him. I firmly believe that half the offers made in
the year throughout broad England emanate from
those energetic ecclesiastics.
After all, what specimens you do pick up sometimes,
in your haste ! If you are to lead apes, is it not better
to defer the evil day as long as possible, instead of
parading the animals about by your sides, here on this
upper earth ?
My sermon is too long for the occasion — too short
for the text. I close a discourse, not much wiser, per-
haps, than poor Wamba's, with his — 'Pax vohlsciim !'
Flora and Guy met with perfect composure on both
sides. She did not appear to think that she had any
claim upon him arising from what had passed ; but it
was evident he was still the favourite, and that all
others were complete 'outsiders.' 'No betting-man
would have backed the field for a shiUing. She
240 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
waltzed witli liiin whenever he asked licr, to tlic utter
oblivion and annihilation of previous engagements ;
whereat the Frenchmen chafed inexpressibl}^, cursing
and gnashing their teeth when, after the ball was
over, they went forth into the outer darlmess. No-
thing but Livingstone's extraordinary reputation in
the shooting-galleries, added to a certain ferocity of
demeanour which had become habitual to him of late,
saved him from more than one serious quarrel.
Ke took it all as a matter of course. Flora amused
him, certainly : she s}Tnpathized with his tastes, and
perhaps flattered his vanity. For instance, she always
took an interest in his fortunes at play, watching and
sometimes backing him at ecarte, and often inquiring
the next morning how the battle had gone in her ab-
sence at the Board of Green Clctli.
Once when an unfortunate adorer — in bitterness of
spirit at being thrown over twice in one evening —
hinted at some of the intrigues which had made
Guy's name unenviabl}^ notorious (play was not the
guiltiest of his distractions to thoughts that would
come back) Miss Bcllasj^s only smiled haughtily, and
did not even deign to betray any curiosity on the sub-
ject. Those ephemeral passions were not the rivals
si 10 feared.
Iler mother all this while was ver}^ uncomfortable.
Though herself per fcctl}^ innocent of any connivance in
Flora's schemes, she was afflicted with a perpetual in-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 2-11
distinct sort of remorse. Once or twice, I believe, she
did venture on a remonstrance, but she was put down
decisively, and did not try it again.
One evening Guy bad been lingering for some time
in the Bellasys' box at the opera : as lie went out
into i\iQ foyer lie saw an old acquaintance coining to-
wards bim.
Lord Killowen was past sixty : the world bad used
bim rougbly, and be bad been ruined very early in
life ; but be bore botb j^ears and troubles ligbtly.
Looking- at bis smooth forebead and square erect figure,
and listening tu bis ready cheery laugh, you would
never have guessed how long he had led that guerilla
existence — for forty years keeping the bailiffs at bay.
His nerve and bis seat in the saddle were as firm as
they were on the first night of his joining the
Hussars^ when he rode Kicldng Kate over the iron
pales round Hounslow Barrack-yard, and hit the
layers of the long odds for a cool thousand.
He had been intimate with Colonel Livingstone,
and had kno"\vn his son from childhood ; but he was
a still closer friend of the Brandon family, with whom,
indeed, he was distantly connected. He bad never
seen Guy since the breaking off of the latter's en-
gagement till this night, when he caught a glimpse
of his lofty head bending over Flora Bellasj^s' chair.
Lord Killowen's blood was as hot, and bis impulses
as quick, as if he had not yet seen his twentieth win-
242 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
ter ; and the cliivalry within liim was stirred at wliat
he considered an insolent parade of treachery ; for he
had guessed muchi of what had happened, though he
did not know all the truth. So he passed Guy's ex-
tended hand, turning his head studiously aside.
The latter was startlev' for a moment ; but he could
not believe in an intentionul ' cut,' and he knew his
friend to be rather short-sighted ; so with one stride
he overtook him, and, touching him on the shoulder,
said, * I must be very much changed if you do not
know me. Lord Killowen.'
The bravo old Irishman turned short upon his heel
and confronted the ppcaker, bending on him all the
light of his clear blue eyes : Ae drew himself up to the
full height of a stature that nearly equalled Living-
stone's, and said, coolly and slowly, * Pardon me, you
are not changed in the least ; I know you very well.'
The insult was palpable. Guy fairly staggered, as
if he had received a sword-thrust ; thea tlie angry
blood rushed up to his temples, making the veins start
out like muscles, and he spoke in a voice hoarse and
indistinct with passion, * You will answer this ? '
True, his antagonist was more than old enough to
have been his father ; but in feast, field, and fray. Lord
Killowen remembered his own age so seldom, that other
men might be excused for forgetting it sometimes.
The old man was going to answer eagerly, but he
checked himself with an effort, as if repressing a strong
GUY LmNGSTONE.
243
temptation ; wlien, after some seconds, lie spoke, there
was more of sadness and warning than of anger, in
his tone.
* No ; I will not fight, even in this quarrel, with
your father's son ; besides, I might be anticipating
one who has a better right. Four days ago, Cyril
Brandon landed from India.'
It would have been difficult, I think, to have found
another, among living men, both by constitution and
temperament, so inaccessible to material terrors as
Livingstone ; yet when that name came upon him
thus suddenly, he felt a thrill and a start through his
nerves, so unpleasantly like commonplace physical
fear, that ever, when he thought of it, it made his
cheek burn with shame. lie could not, after that,
controvert gallant Lannes' maxim : ' It is only a
coward who says that he never was afraid.*
He stood silently, and allowed Lord Killowcn to
pass him, bowing courteously, though coldly, to him.
The latter never knew what mischief he had done.
After that momentary sensation had passed off, all the
worst elements of Guy's stubborn haughty nature rose
in rebellion at what he deemed a despicable weakness.
As if in defiance of the consequences, all that evening
and on the succeeding daja he devoted himself to
Ilora Bellasys with such unusual ardour that it made
her nervous : she thought it was too good to last.
Wlicu ^[ohun heard what had happened, he would
244 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
not admit that there was the slightest chance of a
meeting with Cyril Brandon, though he knew the
character of the latter — fierce and intractable to a
degree.
* Don't flatter j^ourself you will wipe off the score in
that way,' he said to Guy, with his sardonic laugh.
* Men will quarrel over cards and about lorcttes, easily
enough ; but who fights for a " broken Covenant "
now ? ^^^^e live two hundred years too late.'
Ralph remembered how long he had lingered on the
French sea-board, waiting for a challenge from beyond
the Channel, which never came ; though there was
deeper provocation to justify it.
A few mornings after this had occurred, Living-
stone found himself without a servant. His demeanour
towards this estimable class had alwa3's been imperi-
ous and stern to a fault ; but latterly they, as well as
others, had felt the effects of his exasperated temper,
and he was sometimes brutally overbearing in his re-
primands. On this particular occasion he must have
been unusuall}^ oppressive, for it exhausted the pa-
tience of the much-enduring Willis ; so that the worm
turned again — insolently.
Before he had said ten words his master inter-
rupted him — his eye turning towards a heavy horse-
whip that lay near, with an expression that made
A\^illis retreat towards the door.
* So you have robbed me of enough to make you
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 245
independent ? Very well ! make your book up : the
maitre d' hotel will settle with you. You will carry
away some of my property, of course. I shall not
trouble myself to have your trunks searched ; but if
you take anything that I happen to want afterwards,
I'll have you arrested, wherever you are. Now go.'
The man left the room sulkily : an hour later he
returned. ' I am going this instant, Mr Livingstone ;
but I could tell you something first that you ought to
know, if you would promise not to be violent. I am
very sorry now I did it.' There was a curious ex-
pression — ^half spiteful, half frightened — on his cun-
ning face, as he spoke.
Guy looked at him carelessly. ' Thank you ; I am
in no humour to listen to your confessions. You may
be quite easy ; I give you credit for all imaginable
rascality. Kemcmber what I said ; if I miss any-
thing, the police will be after you the same day. Now,
once more, go. If I see j^our face about here again,
it will be the worse for you.'
There was a good deal of meaning in Willis's smile,
though his lips were white with fear. * You will never
miss what I was going to tell you about, sir/ he said ;
and then faded away out of the room, with his usual
noiseless step, closing the door softly behind him.
If his master could have guessed what was the
secret he had refused to hear, haughty as he was, I
do believe there is no earthly degradation to which ho
246 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
would not liavG abased himself to gain its knowledgo.
But the hour for the humbling of the strong, self-
reliant nature had not come yet, though it was very
near. The wild bull never saw the net till its meshes
had trapped him fast
The same morning, Guy, who was lounging an hour
away at the Bellasys*, mentioned to them w^hat had
occurred. If he had glanced at Flora's face just
then, he would have been puzzled to guess what there
was in the intelligence to turn her so deadly pale. It
was only for an instant that the accomplished actress
forgot her part ; and when he looked at her next,
there was not a trace of emotion in her ftxce.
* Have you filled up his place ? ' she asked, care-
lessly.
* I have ordered my landlord to provide me,' replied
Gnj. * I shall find some well-trained scoundrel on
my return, I hope. I shall never get another like
Willis, though. It's just my luck. The great prin-
ciple of the Gazelle runs through life. AYhen they
come to know you well, &c. What made you ask ?
Surely you have no protegee to recommend ? '
Flora laughed gaily, as she answered in the nega-
tive, and so the subject dropped ; but all the after-
noon she was pensive and absent, and flashes of vex-
ation gleamed every now and then fitfully in her
stormy eyes.
247
CHAPTER XXVI.
Let none tliink to fly the danger,
For, soon or late, Love is Lis own avenger.
OiiRiSTMAS-TiDE had conie round again ; and hall,
manor-house, and castle were filling fast. But the
pheasants had a jubilee at Kerton to the great dis-
couragement of Mallet, who ' could not mind such
another breeding season/
Foxes were strong and plentiful with the Belvoir
and the Pytchley ; and, during two months of open
weather, many a straightgoer had died gallantly in
the midst of the wide pasture- grounds, testifying with
his last breath to the generalship of Goodall and
Payne. But the best shot and the hardest rider in
Northamptonshire lingered on still in Paris, wasting
his patrimony in most riotous living, and trying his
iron constitution presumptuously.
Lady Catherine sat alone in the grey old house,
paler and more careworn than ever. I think she
would have preferred the noisiest revel that ever broke
her slumbers in the old times, to the dead silence that
brooded like a mist in the deserted rooms.
248 GUY LTVIXC.STONE.
Gu}' had always been a bad correspondent, and now
ho hardly ever wrote to her ; but rumours of his wild
life reached his mother often, though dimly and
vaguely. It was best so : what would that poor lady
have felt if she could have guessed at the scene in
which her son was the principal figure as the Christ-
mas morning was breaking ?
It is the close of a furious orgie ; the Babel of cries,
of fragments of songs, of insane meaningless laughter,
is d^^ing away, through the pure exhaustion of tlic
revellers ; on the gay carpet and the rich damask are
pools of spilt liquors, heaps of shivered glass, and bou-
quets and garlands that have ceased to be fragrant
hours ago. All around in different attitudes — ignoble
and helpless — are strewn the bodies of those who have
gone down early in the battle of the Bacchanals : they
lie in their ranks as they fell. One figure towers
above the rest — pre-eminent as Satan in the conclave
of the ruined angels — the guiltiest, because the most
conscious of his own utter degradation. The frequent
draughts that have prostrated his companions have
only brought out two roimd scarlet spots in the pale
bronze of his cheeks ; his voice retains still its deep,
calm, almost solemn tone. Listen to it, as he raises
to his lips an immense glass brimming-full of Bur-
gundy — * One toast more, and with funeral honours
— " To the memory of those who have fallen glori-
ously on the 24th of December." *
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 249
It is true that, six montlis ago, the soft, pui'e cheek
of Constance Brandon rested often on the broad breast
that pillows now the dishevelled head of that wild-
eyed, shrill- voiced Maenad ? Draw the curtains closer
yet : shut out the dawn of the Nativity, for very shame.
Mohun was breakfasting with Livingstone on a cold,
gusty January morning that succeeded a night of
heavy drinldng and heavier play. The Colonel would
see him through one of these readily enough ; but if
there was even a single female face present, he would
retreat in disgust and contempt unutterable. Guy
had been hit so hard, that it made him graver than
usual as he thought of it, though he was tolerably
inured and indifferent to evil fortune ; so the convers-
ation languished during the meal. After it was over,
Mohun rose to light a cigar, while his companion took
up a pile of letters and began to glance at them list-
lessly. Suddenly the former dropped the match from
his hand, starting in irrepressible astonishment.
He had seen strong men die hard, mangled and
shattered by sabre or bullet ; but he had never heard a
sound so terribly significant of agony as the dull, heavy
groan that, just then, burst from Livingstone's lips.
In those few seconds his face had grown perfectly
livid : his eyes were riveted upon a small note that he
held in his shaking fingers ; they glittered strangely,
but there was no meaning or expression in tlieir fixed
stare.
250 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
* In the name of God, what has happened ? * Ealph
asked.
Guy's lips worked and moyed ; but no sound caino
from them, except an irregular catching of the breath,
and a gasping rattle in the throat.
Mohun took the note from his hand without his
seeming to be aware of it, and read it through. These
were the words : —
* I have tried very hard to persuade myself that you
never received the letter I wrote to you two months
ago. I think you would have answered it, for you
would know how much I must have suffered before my
pride broke down so utterly. Yet I could not have
risked being scorned a second time, if I had not learnt
yesterday that my life must now be reckoned by
weeks, if not by days. I do not know if I shall be
allowed to see j^ou, if you come. But you will come ;
will you not ? Dear, dear Guy, I cannot die as I
ought to do, contentedly, unless I speak to you once
again. In spite of all, I will sign my last letter,
* Your own,
* Constance Brandon.*
It was dated Ventnor.
Hard and cynical as he was, Mohun was thoroughly
shocked and grieved ; but the urgency of the crisis
brought back the prompt decision of thought and
purpose that were habitual to the trained soldier. He
sprang to his feet^ alert and ready for action, as he
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 251
would have done in the old times, from his bivouac,
to meet a night surprise of the wild Hungarians.
* Get everything ready,' he said to the servant, who
entered at that moment ; ' your master is going
to England immediately. The train starts for Havre
at two o'clock. You will catch the night boat for
Southampton.'
^VTien the man had left the room, he turned to
Guy — ' Rouse yourself, man ! There is all a lifetime
for remorse, but only a few hours for the little amends
you can make. You will be at Yentnor to-morrow ;
and mind — you must see her, whatever difficulties ma}'
be thrown in your way. You won't lose your temper
if you meet her brother ? Ah ! I see you are not
listening.^
Then Livingstone spoke for the first time, in a
hoarse, grating whisper, articulating the words one
by one, with difficulty.
* I never dreamt of this. I did not mean to kill
her.'
Mohun knew his friend too well to attempt conso-
lation or sympathy, even if these had not been foreign
to his own nature, so he answered deliberately and
coldly —
' Of having brought bitter sorrow on Constance
Brandon, I do hold you guilty ; of having caused her
death — not ; and so you will find when you know all.
But her note of two months ago — of course you never
252 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
saw it ? You must have overlooked it ; you are so
careless with your papers.'
* It never reached me/ Livingstone replied. * I
have alwa3^s looked at the outside of my letters, and
I should liave known tliat handwriting among ten
thousand. Some one must have intercepted it. I
wish I knew who.* He was recovering from the first
stunning efiects of the shock, and the old angry
light came back into his eyes.
* I will find out when you are gone,' said Mohun.
' You have not a moment to spare. I won't ask you
to write ; I will join you in England in three days.
Only remember one thing — keep cool. Yes ; I know
what you mean ; but your patience may be tried more
than you have any idea of.' He was thinking of Cyril
Brandon.
The hurry of departure prevented any further con-
Tcrsation. At the station, just before the train
started, Ralph said, grasping his comrade's hand as
he spoke — ' I did not think you loved her so dearly.'
It was very long before he forgot the di-eary look
which accompanied the answer — * I did not know it
myself till now.'
* I must trace the note,' the Colonel muttered, as
he strode away from the station. * That handsome
tiger-cat has laid her claw on it, I am certain. But
she won't confess ; red-hot pincers would not drag
a secret from her, if she meant to keep it. I doubt
GUY LIVINGSTONK. 253
if slie will even betray herself by a blusli. Poor
Constance ! Wbat cliance bad sbe against such a
Macbiavel in petticoats ? I am bad at diplomacy, too.
If I only bad tbe slightest proof, or if sbc bad any
weak point. Unless sbc loses ber bead wben sbe
bears wbere Guy is gone, I bave no cbance of finding
out mucb in tbat quarter. There's Willis, to be sure.
Sbe bribed bim, no doubt. D — n tbem botb ! * In
tbis complimentary and charitable mood, be went
straight to Flora Bellasys.
He found her alone. She was sitting in her riding -
dress ; and the broad Spanish hat, with its curl-
ing plimies, lay close beside her, with the gauntlets
and whip across it.
Sbe did not much like Mohun, for she had an idea
tbat bis sarcasms, with her for their object, bad made
Guy smile more than once approvingly. She knew,
too, that all her fascinations recoiled harmlessly from
tbat rugged block of ironstone. Whatever be might
have been in early years, be was harder of heart than
stout Sir Artegall now. Radigund, unhelming ber
lovely face, would never bave tempted bim to forego
bis advantage and throw his weapons down.
However, she greeted bim with perfect composure
and satisfaction.
'^Do you join our party this afternoon. Colonel
Mohun ? I expect them to call for me every moment.
"We are going to the Croix de Berny, to see the
254 GUY J.IVINGSTONE.
ground for tlio race next week. Mr Livingstone was
to have lunched here ; but I never reckon on his
keeping an engagement.*
There was something in Ealph's manner which
made her uncomfortable. She took up her whip, and
began twisting its slender stock rather nervously ;
you would not have thought there was so much
strength in the delicate fingers.
* You are right/ he replied, coolly, ' not to count
too much on Guy's punctuality. He is very imcer-
tain in his movements. I fear he cannot accompany
you this afternoon. He would have charged me with
his excuses, I am sure, if he had not been so hurried.'
Flora looked up quickly.
* It must have been something very sudden, then.
Have you any idea where he is now ? '
Ralph consulted his watch. 'About Mantes, I
should imagine. He started for Havi'e by the last
train. He will be at Southampton to-morrow ; and
the same day he can reach — .'
He stopped, gazing at his companion with a cold,
cruel satisfaction. The blood was sinking in her
cheeks, not with a sudden impulse, but gradually — as
the sunset rose-tints fade from the brow of the Jung-
frau, leaving a ghastly opaque whiteness behind them.
During the silence that ensued, a sharp tinkle might
be heard, as the jewelled head of the riding- whip,
snapped by a convulsive movement, fell at Flora's feet.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 255
It teas weak in lier to betray sucli loss of self-com-
mand; but remember the blow came unexpectedly.
She saw the edifice she had plotted, and toiled, and
risked so much to build, ruined and shattered to its
foundation-stone. How many whispers, and smiles,
and eloquent glances had been lavished, only to end
in this Pavia, where not even honour was saved from
the utter wreck !
"Was not the perfect waxen mask of the First Napo-
leon shivered in that terrible Abdication-night at Fon-
tainebleau ? Where was Cleopatra's queenly dignity
when she heard that Antony had rejoined Octavia ?
* Why has he gone ? What called him back ? '
Her voice had lost the clear ring of silver, and
sounded dull and flat, like base metal.
* Constance Brandon wrote to tell him she was
dying. Do you wonder that he went to her ? '
A passing cloud of horror swept across Flora's pale
face ; but after it broke forth a gleam of strange fero-
cious exultation, which stifled the rising pity in her
hearer's breast, and changed it into contempt.
* I don't believe it,' she cried, passionately. * It is
a trick. She was quite well two months ago. At
least, she said nothing — .'
She checked herself, but too late. The practised
duellist laughed grimly in his moustache, as he might
have done on discovering the weak point in his
enemy's ward which laid him open to his rapier.
256 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
* You make my task easier/ lie said; * I caine to in-
quire about a note v/hich miscaiTicd about tlie time
you speak of. I will know what became of it, Miss
Bellasys, thougb I wish to spare you unnecessary
exposure and shame.'
lie had gained a momentary advantage, but it did
not profit him much. There are swordsmen who
will not own that they are touched, though their
lilb-blood is ebbing fast. Flora rose without a sign
of yielding or weakness in her dry eyes, drawing up
lier magnificent figure proudly, llalph could not
help thinking how like her father she was just then.
'I will answer, though I deny youi* right to
question mo. I have not the faintest idea of what
you refer to. I have seen no note, except such as
were addressed to myself: and you will hardly think
that Miss Brandon would choose me as a confidante or
correspondent.'
Mohim saw that she would persist to the last, un-
daunted as Sapphira. So he rose to leave her, with-
out another word.
* You do not doubt me ? ' Flora asked, as he turned
away, after saluting her. It was a rash question, all
things considered, and scarcely worthy of the accom-
plished speaker. There is no more useful maxim in
diplomacy than this — Quieia non movere.
Ralph faced her directly. ' Miss Bellasys, when a
lady tells me what I cannot believe, I question — not her
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 257
word, but — lier agent/ He was lialf-way down-stairs
before she coiild answer or detain liim.
He found out Willis's direction at Guy's botel; but
lie bad to wait some time before obtaining it ; and
other things delayed him en route y so that it was
nearly two hours before he reached the modest lodg-
ings an quatneme, where the discharged valet was
hiding his greatness.
Willis had an extensive connection ; this, and his
well-knoAvn talents, made him tolerably sure of a
situation whenever he chose to seek one. He had
luxurious tastes, and thoroughly appreciated self-in-
dulgence ; so he determined to devote some time and
a portion of his perquisites to relaxation, before going
into harness again.
On this particular evening he had in prospect a
little dinner at Philippe's — not uncheered by the
smiles of venal beauty — and had just completed a
careful toilette. He was above the small peculations
of his order ; indeed, had he been inclined to plunder
his late master's wardrobe, the absurd disproportion
in their size would have saved him from that vulgar
temptation. He was somewhat choice in his tailors;
and his clothes fitted him and suited him well. He
was reviewing the general efiect in the glass with a
complacent, and rather egrillarde expression in his
little eyes, when — between him and his partie fine —
rose the apparition of the Colonel, like that of the
258 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
commander before a bolder profligate, lie knew
that the interview must come, and did not wish
to avoid it ; but just at this moment it was singu-
larly ill timed. TVTiat a contrast between the stem
fixed gaze that seemed to nail him to the spot
where he stood and the well-tutored glances of fair,
frail Heloise ! He felt as if he had been put into the
ice-pail by mistake for the champagne. However,
he met his ill-luck placidly, and, handing his visitor
a chair, begged to know * what he could do to serve
him?*
* You can tell me what became of a letter from Miss
Brandon, which ought to have reached your master
two months ago, and miscarried.'
Willis was forewarned and armed for the question ;
but, even with this advantage given in, his blank un-
conscious look and start of astonishment did him in-
finite credit.
* A letter, sir?' he said, vaguely, as if consulting his
recollections. * From Miss Brandon ? I have never
seen or heard of such a thing. If I had, of course I
should have given it to Mr Livingstone. What else
could I have done with it ? '
' I will give a thousand francs for it,* Mohim went
on, without noticing the denial, * or for a written ac-
knowledgment of how you disposed of it, and at
whose orders.' He laid the bank-note on the table.
The flats changed ; the look of bewilderment gave
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 259
place to one of injured innocence — an appeal against
manifest injustice. It was really artistically done.
* I am soriy, sir, that you should think I want a
bribe to serve you or Mr Livingstone. It is quite out
of my power now. I don't know what you refer to.*
' I have no time to bargain/ Ealph growled, and
his eyes began to glisten ominously. * Name your
price and have done with it.*
Finale and grand tableau — virtuous indignation —
the faithful servant asserting his dignity as a man.
There was a hitch here somewhere ; the scene-shifter
was hardly up to his work, so that it was rather a
failure.
* I have told you twice, sir, that I do not know any-
thing about it. I beg you will not insult me with
more questions. You have no right to do so ; I am
neither in your service nor Mr Livingstone's now.*
Mohun bent his bushy brows in some perplexity.
After all he had not a shadow of proof, though he felt
a moral certainty. His sheet-anchor was the avarice
of the scoundrel he was dealing with, and this seemed
to fail. Evidently a strong counter-influence had
been at work.
* Curse her ! * he muttered between his clenched
teeth ; ' she has been here before me.*
Then he looked up suddenly, and what ho saw
caused the shallow cup of his patience at once to
overflow.
260 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
In Willises eyes was an ill-repressed twinkle of ex-
ultation and amusement, and on his thin lips the dawn-
ing of an actual sneer. It was but seldom the trained
satellite allowed himself the luxury of betraying any
natural feeling. In truth he chose his time badly for
its exhibition now. Before he could collect himself so
as to utter a cry, he lay upon his back on the carpet,
a heavy foot on his chest ; and the Colonel was gazing
down on him with a fell murderous expression, that
made the victim's blood run cold.
' By G — d ! ' Mohun said, in the smothered tones of
concentrated passion, * if you trifle with me ten seconds
longer — if you open your lips except to answer my
question — I'll crush your breast-bone in.'
Willis knew the desperate character of the man who
held him in his power ; it was no vain threat he had
just heard ; the pressure on his breast was agonizing
already.
* For God's sake, don't murder me ! ' he gasped out ;
* I — I gave it to Miss Bellasys.'
* Of course you did,' Mohun said, coolly ; * I knew
it all along. Now get up, and write that down.'
He spurned away the fallen man as he spoke, till
he rolled over and over on the floor.
There is nothing which disconcerts a nature long
used to obey like a sudden brutal coup-de-main. Re-
member the Scythians and their slaves. The rebels
met their masters boldly enough on a fair field with
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 261
sword and spear, but they cowered before the crack of
the horse-whips.
All the spider-webs of the unfortunate Willis's
diplomacy were utterly swept away ; his powers of
thought and volition were concentrated now on one
point — to get rid of his visitor as soon as possible.
He rose slowly and painfully (for the mere physical
shock had been heavy), and placing himself at a table,
tried to write the few words of acknowledgment that
Mohun dictated ; but his hand trembled so excessively
that he could hardly form the letters. As he looked
up, in piteous deprecation, evidently fearing lest liis
inability to comply should be construed into un-
TNTilingness or rebellion, he presented a spectacle of
degraded humanity, so revolting in its abasement
that even the c^Tiic turned away in painful disgust.
It was done at last. As WiUis saw his confession
consigned to Mohun's pocket-book, his avarice gave
him courage to try one last effort to gain something
by the transaction — a salve to his bruises ; a set-off
against the relida non bene pm^mula.
* I hope you will consider I have done all I can,
sir,' he said, looking wistfully at the bank-note,
which stni lay on the table. ' I shall be ruined if
this becomes known.'
The cast-steel smile which was peculiar to him
hardened the Colonel's face.
* You must come down on Miss Bellasys for compen-
262 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
sation. She pays well, I have no doubt. You never
get another sott from our side, if it were to keep you
from starving. My second thought was the best after
all ; it saved time — and money.' (lie put the note
back into his purse.) * I'll give you one caution,
though. Keep out of Mr Livingstone's way. If ho
meets you, after hearing all this, he'll break your
neck, I believe in my conscience.' So he left him.
For the second time in the evening Willis looked in
the glass — the reflection was not so satisfactory. Was
that unseemly crumpled ruin, the white tie, sublime
in its scientific wriakles, on which its author had
gazed with a pardonable paternal pride ? No wonder
that he stamped in wrath, not the less bitter because
impotent, while he shook ofi" the dust from his gar-
ments as a testimony against Halph Mohun.
He repaired the damages though, to the best of his
power, and then went off to keep his appointment ; but
the pdt^s a la hcchamelle were as ashes, and the gelee au
marasquin as gall, to his parched, disordered palate.
He mad 3 himself so intensely disagreeable, that poor
Heloise thenceforth swore an enmity against his com-
patriots, which endured to the end of her brief mis-
spent existence. Gredin d' Angle is, vaf she was
wont to say, grinding her little white teeth melo-
dramatically, whenever she recalled that dreary
entertainment, and the failure of her simple strata-
gems to enliven her satunune host,
263
CHAPTEH XXVII.
Tten let tlie funeral bells be tolled, a requiem be sung,
An antbem for the qucealiest dead that ever died bo young ;
A dirge for her, — the doubly dead, in that she died so young.
For the first few minutes after the train had moved
off, Guy \Yas unable to collect his thoughts. As the
tall figure of Mohun passed from his view, it seemed
as if a sustaining prop had been suddenly cut away
from under him, and he felt more than ever helpless.
The stubborn strength of his character asserted itself
before long, and he faced his great sorrow as he would
have done an enemy in bodily shape ; but neither
then, nor for many days after, could he pursue any
one train of reflection long unbroken.
First he began to think how Constance would look
when he saw her. Would she be much changed? How
beautiful she was the night they parted, with the
blue myosotis gleaming through her bright hair!
"Would her eyes be as cold as he remembered them
then (he had not seen their last look), or would they
forgive him at once, and tell him so ? Not if she knew
all. And then, in hideous contrast to her pure stately
beauty, there rose before him faces and figures which
264 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
had shared his orgies dui*ing the past months, gay with
paint and jewels, and meretricious ornament. There
was a deeper horror in those mocking shapes than in
the most loathsome phantasms of corporeal corruption
that feverish dreams ever called up from the grave-
yard. If his lips were unworthy, months ago, to
touch Constance's cheek or hand, what were they now?
He ground his teeth in the bitterness of self-condemn-
ation. It would be easier to bear, if she met him
coldly and proudly, than if she yielded at once, as her
letter seemed to promise. Her letter! — what became
of the first one ? If that had reached him, how much
might have been saved ! Perhaps Constance's life —
certainly much of his own dishonour. The idea did
cross him, that Flora might have been concerned in
intercepting it; but it seemed improbable, and he
drove it away. With all his revived devotion to
Constance, he did not like to think hardly of her
rival ; in a lesser degree he had wronged her too.
You wiU rarely find the sternest or wisest of men
disposed to be harsh towards errors that spring from
a devotion to themselves. It is only just, as well as
natural, that it should be so. If the Second Cause of
the crime did not find an excuse for the defendant, I
don't know where he or she would look for an advocate.
St Kevin need not have troubled himself : there were
plenty of people ready to push poor Kathleen down.
I think it is a pity they canonized him.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 265
Tkrougli all Guy's reflections tliere ran this under-
current — * how easily all miglit have been avoided if
the slightest things had turned out differently ! '
Just so, after a heavy loss at play, a man loill keep
thinking how he might have won a large stake, if he
had played one card otherwise, or backed the In
instead of the Out. I have heard good judges say,
that this pertinacious after- thought is the hardest
part to bear of all the annoyance. Of course he
worries himself about it — just as if ' great results from
small beginnings ' were not the tritest of all truisms.
I don't wish to be historical, or I would reflect how
often the Continent has been convulsed by a dish that
disagreed with some one, or by a ship that did not
Btart to its time. The Jacobites were very mso in
toasting ' the little gentleman in black velvet,' that
raised the fatal mole-hill. Does not the old romance
say, that an adder starting from a bush brought on
the terrible battle, in which all the chivalry of Eng-
land were stre^vTi like leaves around Arthur, on
Barren-Down ?
Guy could still hardly realize to himself the cer-
tainty of Constance's approaching death. He tried to
fix his thoughts on this, till a heavy, listless torpor,
like drowsiness, began to steal over him. He roused
himself impatiently, and began to think how slow they
were going. Nevertheless, the green coteaux that
swell between Bouen and the sea were flying past
266 Gxnr Livingstone.
rapidl}', and they arrived at Ilavre as Mohun liad
said, just in time to catcli the Southampton packet.
There was threatening of foid weather to windward.
The clouds, in masses of indigo just edged with copper,
were banking up fast, and the * white horses,' more
and more frequent, were beginning to toss their manes
against the dark sky-line.
To the few travellers, whom the stem necessities of
business drove forth, lingering and shivering, from
their comfortable inns on to the deck, already wet and
unstead}^ Livingstone was an object of great interest
and many theories. His impatience to be gone was
so marked, that the conscientious official looked more
than once suspiciously at his passport.
Mr Phineas Hackett, of Boston, U.S., Marchand
(so self- described in the Livre des Yoyageurs at
Chamounix), made up his mind that he saw before
him the hero of some gigantic forgery, or a fraudulent
bankrupt on a large scale ; but, just as he had fixed
on the astute question which was to drive the first
wedge into the mystery, Guy turned in his quick
walk and met him full. I doubt if he even saw the
smooth-shaven eager face close at his elbow ; but he
was thinking again of the lost letter, and the savage
glare in his eyes made the heart of the * earnest in-
quirer' quiver under his black satin waistcoat.
* D — d hard knot, that,' he muttered, disconsolately!
and retreated with great loss, to writhe during the
GUT LI\aNGSTONE. 2G7
rest of tliG passage in an orgasm of unsatisfied
curiosity.
The weather looked worse every moment, as the
wild north wind came roaring from seaward, with a
challenge to the Tessels that lay tossing within the
jetty to come forth and meet him. The waste-pipe of
the Sea-gull screamed out shrilly in answer ; and the
brave old ship, shaking the foam from her bows after
every plunge, as her namesake might do from its
breast-feathers, steamed out right in the teeth of
the gale.
A regular ' Channel night * — a night which Mr
Augustus Winder, Paris traveller to II and Co.,
the might}^ mercers of Regent Street, spoke of in after
days, with a shudder of reminiscence mingling with
the pride of one who has endured and survived great
pern ; who has gone down to the sea in ships, and seen
the wonders of the deep. His associates — the elite of
the silk and ribbon department — j^ouths of polished
manners and fascinating address, than whom non alii
Jeviore saltu took the coimtcr in their stride — would
gather round the narrator in respectful admiration ;
just as the young sea-dogs of Nantucket might Hsten
to a veteran hunter of the sperm-whale, as he tells of
a hurricane that caught him in the strait between the
Land of Fire and terrible Cape Horn.
Mr Winder represented himself as having assisted
all on board, from the captain down to the cabin-boy,
268 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
>viih his counsel and encouragement, and as having
been materially useful to the man at the wheel. The
fact was, that he cried a good deal during the night,
and was incessant in his appeals to the steward and to
ITcaYen for help. In his appeals to the latter Power,
he employed often a strangely modified form of the
Apostles' Creed ; for his religious education had been
neglected, and this was his solitary and simple idea
of an orison. However, no one was present to do-
tract from his triumph, or to controvert his conclud-
ing words — ' An awful night, gents ; but duty's
duty, and the firm behaved handsome. Mr Sassnett,
I'll trouble you for a light, sir.' And so he ig-
nited a fuller- flavoured Cuba, and drank, in a sweeter
grog, 'our noble selves' — olim hcec meminissc ju-
valat.
There was one striking contrast on board to the
gallant Winder. Livingstone did not go below, but
w^alked the deck all night long, straining his eyes
eagerly forward through the thick darkness and the
driving rain.
Captain "Wcatherby regarded him approvingly, as,
halting in his walk, Guy stood near him upright and
steady as a mainmast of Memel pine. * That's the sort
I like to carry,' the old sailor remarked confidentially
to his second-in-command, as they shared an amicable
grog under the shelter of the companion.
The wind abated towards morning ; and, as the
GI;Y LIVINGSTONE. 269
dawn broke, tliey were under the lee of the Wight,
and moving steadily into the quiet Solent
Guy made his way straight to Yentnor. Twenty-
four hours after her summons reached him, Constance
knew that her lover had never received her first letter,
and that now he was within five hundred yards of
her, waiting to be called into her presence.
It was long before her answer came. It only con-
tained a few hurried words, saying, that it was im-
possible for her to see him that day, and begging him
not to be angr}^, but to wait. The handwriting was
far more faltering and uncertain than that which had
struck him so painfully with its weakness the day
before. It spoke plainly of the effort which it had
cost the invalid to trace even those brief lines. He
did not try to delude himself any more : but aU that
day remained alone, face to face with his despair.
He went out after nightfall, and stole up cautiously
to the house where Constance was staying.
It is not only ghosts that icalk. Men, as powerless
to retrieve the past as if they were already disem-
bodied spirits, will haunt the scenes and sepulchres of
their lost happiness, even before they die. Though
the world was all before them where to choose, I doubt
not that the exiles from Paradise lingered long, just
without the sweep of the Flaming Sword.
Two rooms in the house were lighted, one with
the faint glimmer peculiar to the shaded lamp of a
270 GUY IJVINnSTOXE
Sick-room. Guy's pulse bounded wildly at first, and
then grew dull and still. In that room he knew Con-
stance lay dying. The other window was brightly
lighted, but half shaded by a curtain. A\^ile ho
gazed, this was torn suddenly aside, as if by an angry
impatient hand, and a man leant out, throwing back
the hair from his forehead, to catch the cold wind
which was blowing sharply. Guy had never seen the
dark passionate face before ; but he knew whose it
was very well, though there was little family likeness
to guide him. Cyril Brandon's features were small
and finely cut, like his sister's ; but there the resemb-
lance ended. His complexion, naturally sallow, had
been burnt three shades deeper by the Indian sun.
His fierce black eyes, and thin lips that seemed
always ready to curl or quiver, made the contrast
with Constance very striking.
Livingstone drew back into the farthest shadow of
the garden trees. He knew how much reason Cyril
had for hating him above aU living men ; and he did
not wish to risk a meeting. Mohun's warning shot
across his mind, and he felt it was rightly founded.
Brandon looked out for some minutes without
moving, then he dropped his head suddenly on his
arms with a heavy groan. The bright Hght was be-
hind him, and Guy could see his clasped fingers
twisting and tearing at each other, as if he wished to
distract mental agony by the sense of bodily pain.
GUY LIVIN JSTONE. 271
The gazer saw that another bcsiiet himself had given
up all hope ; and, with a hea\der heart than ever, he
stole away home — not to sleep, but to think, and wait
for the morning.
About noon next day the expected message came.
* Dear Guy, — I have got leave to see you at last,
but it was very diflBcult to gain. It is only on these
conditions — you are not to stay with me a moment
beyond three hours ; and you must leave Yentnor
immediately afterwards, and not return. I have
promised all for you. It seems very hard ; but we
must not think of that now. Come directly.
♦C. B.'
Ten minutes later there was only a closed door
between Livingstone and the interview he longed for
and dreaded so much. His steel nerves stood him in
good stead then ; it was not at the crisis that these
were likely to fail. When Constance heard his step,
it was measm-ed and firmly planted as she always re-
membered it. So it would have been, if he had been
walking to meet the fire of a platoon. Her aunt,
Mrs Vavasour, was with her, but left the room as
Guy opened the door, and so they met again as they
had parted — alone.
272
CHAPTER XXVI II.
I charge thee, hj the living's prayer,
By the dead's silentness,
To wring from out thy soul a cry
That God may hear and bless ;
Lest Ileaven's o-\vn palm fade in my hand,
And, pale among the saints, I stand
A saint companionless.
Constance was lying on a coucli near the fire propped
up by many pillows. She felt weaker than usual :
what she had gone through in the morning had ex-
hausted her. Guy never knew, till long after, that
the effort she had made to secure the meeting with
him had, in all human probability, shortened her life
by weeks. She thought it cheaply purchased at that
price, — and she was right. Even the excitement of
the moment had hardly brought a tinge of colour into
the pure waxen cheeks ; but the beautiful clear eyes
were more brilliant than ever. A ribbon of the blue
which was Guy's favourite was twisted in her bright
glossy hair.
He saw nothing of this at first ; he did not see her
raise herself with a faint joyful cry, as he advanced with
hJs eyes cast down ; he never knew how it was that he
GUY LIVINGSTONE 273
fouud himself kneelmg by Constance, with her arms
clinging fondly round his neck, and her voice mur-
muring in his ear, — ' I said 3'ou would come — I knew
you would come/
Though her soft cheek lay so very near his lips,
they never touched it. He drew back, shuddering
all over, and said, hoarselj^ —
' I cannot ; I dare not ; I am not worthy.'
I do not know if she guessed what he meant ; but
she tried to lift his head which was bent down on
the cushion beside her, so that he might look into her
true ej^cs, as she answered —
You must not think that ; you must not say so. I
know you have been angry and almost mad for many
months, but you are not so now, and you never will
be any more. It was my fault ; — yes, mine. If I
had not been so cold and proud, you would never
have left me. You thought I did not love you ; but
I did ; my own, my darling ; I did — so dearly ! *
All Gruy's stout manhood was shivered within him,
utterly and suddenly, as 4000 years ago the rock was
cloven in Horeb, the Moimt of God. Now, too, from
the rift in the granite the waters flowed : the first
tears that he had shed since he was a very little child
— the last that any mortal saw there — streamed hot
and blinding from his 03^03 down on the thin trans-
parent hand that he held fast.
Would those with whom he was a byword for hard
274 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
sternness of character, have known him then ? They
would have been almost as much surprised to see Con-
stance Brandon — though so haughty and cold — over-
coming her terror at his passionate burst of grief, to
soothe him with every tenderest gesture and with
words that were each a caress, till the convulsion
passed away, and calm self-government returned.
Guy did not speak till he could quite control him-
self ; then he said firml}^, but vdih a sob in his voice
still—
* Yet I have killed you ! '
* No, no,' Constance answered, quickly : ' indeed it
is not so. A cold which attacked my chest caused
this illness ; but they say that my lungs were affected
long ago, and that I could hardly have lived many
months. You must think of that, dear ; and perhaps
it is much better that it should be so. Life is very
hard and difficult, I think ; and I should never have
been strong enough to bear my part in it well.'
Guy shook his head sadly, is if only half convinced ;
though he knew she would not have said an untrue
word, even to save him from suffering.
' U 3'ou could only stay with me — if I could only
keep you ! ' he cried out, and threw his arms round
her, as if their strong clasp would hold her back one
step on the road, along which the messengers of God
had been beckoning her for many days past.
* Hush I ' Constance whispered : ' you must be
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 275
patient. Yet I Kke to think that you will not forget
me soon. Now, Ksten — ' and she held up her finger,
with something of the ' old imperial air.' * I have
something to ask of you. Will you not like to do it
for my sake, even if it is hard ? *
He did not answer ; but she understood the pres-
sure of his hand, and went on.
* I have been fearing so much that something ter-
rible will happen between you and Cyril. He is so
passionate and wilful, he will not listen to me ; though
he loves me dearly, and though I have tried every
entreaty I could think of (She grew paler than
ever, and shuddered visibly.) *And you are not
patient, Guy, dear ; but you would be, this time, would
you not ? Only think how it would grieve me if — *
The deep hollow cough that she had tried hard to
keep back would break in here.
* You cannot doubt me,' Guy replied, caressing her
fondly : ' I promise that nothing he can say or do
shall tempt me to defend myself by word or deed. How
could I, even if you had not asked this ? Has he not
bitter cause ? Ask me something harder, my own ! *
Constance hesitated ; then she spoke rapidly, as if
afraid to pause, when she had once made up her mind.
The lovely colour came and flickered for a moment
on her cheek, and then went out again as suddenly.
* I know it is easier for me to submit than for you ;
yet it is very hard to be obliged to leave you, Guy ;
276 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
it is harder still to leave you to Flora Bellasys I
hope my jealousy — I r/m jealous— does not make me
unjust ; but I don^t think she will make you better,
or even happier in the end. Now, do forgive me ;
perhaps I ought not — *
Guy interrupted here : he had not stopped her till
she began to excuse herself.
* I must see her once again ' (the laiitting of his
black brows omened ill for the peace of that inter-
view) ; * afterwards, on my honour and faith, I will
never speak to her one word, or willingly look uj)on
her face.'
true heart ! that had suffered so long, and hitherto
imavailingly, till your life-blood was drained in the
struggle, be content, for the victory is won at la^t.
Never did loyalty and right triumph more absolutely,
since those who stood fast by their King in the dies
tree of the great battle saw the rebel angels cast head-
long down.
If, in the intense joy that thrilled through every
fibre of Constance's frame, there mingled an element
of gratified pride, who shall blame her ? Not I ; for
fear of being less indulgent than, I believe, was her
Eternal Judge, when, not many days later, she stood
before him.
She needed no fui'ther protest or explanation ; she
never thought that, because her lover had once been
entangled, there was danger of his falling into the
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 277
net again ; site never doubted, for an instant, — and
she was right. The gaze of the spirit is far-seeing
and rarely fallible, when so near its translation as
was hers.
As she leant her head against his shoidder, mur-
muring, * You have made me so very, very happy,'
there were pleasant tears in the beautiful eyes that
had known so many bitter ones, and had not lost
their brightness yet.
There was silence for some minutes ; then Constance
spoke again, looking wistfully, and more sadly than
she had yet done, on her companion —
*Do you know, Guy, I have been thinking that
yours wiU not be a very long life. You are so strong,
that it seems foolish in me ; but I cannot help it.'
The faintest glimmer of satisfaction, like the ghost
of a smile, came upon Livingstone's miserable haggard
face : there had been nothing like it there for many
hours : there was nothing like it again for many days.
*You may be right,' he said, very calmly. *I
trust in God you are.'
* Yes,' Constance went on ; * but I was thinking
more than that. I was hoping that, perhaps, for my
sake, if not for your own, you would try to grow better
every day. Only think what it would be, if, through-
out all ages, we were never to meet after to-day.' She
drew him closer to her, and her voice almost failed
her. * I don't believe you ever could be what is called
278 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
a very religious character. I am so weak — strong-
m in (led as you thought me— that I fear I have found
an attraction in this fault of yours : but you could
keep from great sins, I am sui*e. Try and be gentler
to others first ; and with every act of unselfish kind-
ness, you will have gained something. Any good
clerg}Tnan will tell you the rest better than I. Re-
member how happy you will make me. I believe I
shall see and know it all. It may be hard for you,
dear, but, it may not be for long.'
The same strange, wistful look came into her eyes
again, as if shadows of the dim future were passing
before them.
Poor child ! Pure as she was in principle and fii-m
in truth, she would have made but a weak controver-
sial theologian ; but her simple words went straight
to her hearer's heart, with a stronger power of con-
version than, could have been found in the discourses
of aU the surpliced Chrysostoms that ever anathema-
tized a sinner or anatomized a creed.
Yet Guy did not answer so soon this time. "When
he did, he spoke firmly and resolutely — ' Indeed, in-
deed, I will try.'
Constance nestled down on his broad chest, wearily,
but with a long-di-awn breath of intense relief.
* I have said all my say,' she whispered ; ' I have
not tired you ? Now, I wiU rest, and you shall pet
me, and talk to me as you used to do.*
GtJY LIVINGSTONE. 279
What broken sentences — what pauses of silence yet
"Cxore eloquent — what lavish, tender caresses passed
between those two, over whom the shadow of desola-
tion was closing fast, I have never guessed, nor if I
could, would I write them in these pages. I hold,
that there are partings bitterer to bear than a father's
from his child, and sorrows worthier of the veil than
those of Agamemnon.
Though Guy repressed now all outward signs
of painful emotion, he suffered, I believe, far the
most of the two. It is always so with those whom
death is about to divide. The agony is unequally
distributed, falling heaviest on the one that remains
behind. If the separation were for years, and both
were healthy and hopeful, very often the positions
would be reversed ; but — whether it be that bodily
weakness blunts the sharp sense of anticipated sorrow,
or that, to eyes bent forward on the glories and ter-
rors of the Unknown world, earthly relations lessen
by comparison — you will find that with most, however
impetuous it may have been in mid-channel, the Rive??
of Life flows calmly and evenly, just before its junction
with the Great Ocean Stream. Besides, the dying girl
had suffered so much of late, that the present change
left no room for other feelings than those of unalloyed
happiness ; and the words of love murmured into her
ear brought with them a deeper delight than when ska
heard them for the first time from the same Kps.
280 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
Both were so engaged with their own thoughts and
with each other that they never noted how the narrow
space of time allotted to them was vanishing, rapidly
as the last dry islet of sand when the spring-tide is
flowing. They never heard the footsteps, more impa-
tient at every turn, sounding from the room beneath,
where Cyril Brandon paced to and fro. Constance
had cut off one of her long sunny braids, and was twin-
ing it, in and out, in fetterlocks round Guy^s fingers,
as she lay nestling in the clasp of his other arm ; it was
only their eyes that were speaking then. They started,
as the door opened suddenly, and Mrs Yavasour came
in, her face white, and her eyes wild with terror. She
was too frightened to be gentle or considerate.
* You must go this instant ! ' she cried out, catching
Livingstone's arm. * Constance ! make him go ; he
has stayed too long already. You know you promised.*
'I did promise,* Constance answered, calmly,
almost proudly ; ' and he will keep it.*
Then she turned to Guy, who was kneeling by her,
and hid her face in his neck, locking her arms round
him. Her aunt caught the words — ' Not forget ! *
Beyond these her farewell was a secret known only
'.0 her lover and the angels.
But the parting, which had come so suddenly,
di-ained the last weak remnant of strength already
taxed too hardly. Guy felt the lips that were mur-
muring in his ear grow still at fii'st, and then cold ;
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 281
the tender arms unknit themselves ; and his imploring
eyes could draw no answer from hers that were closed.
' She has only fainted/ Mrs Yavasour said, answer-
ing his look ; ' I wlU recover her. But pray, pray go ! '
He laid the light burden that scarcely weighed
upon his arm down on the pillows, very softly and
gently, smoothing them mechanically with his hand.
Then he stooped and pressed one kiss more on the
pale lips ; they never felt it, though the passion of
that lengthened caress might almost have waked the
dead. And so those two parted, to meet again — ^upon
earth, never any more.
The next time that a woman's lips touched Guy
Livingstone's they were his mother's, and he had been
a corpse an hour.
He went, without looking back ; his step was slow
and unsteady, very different from the firm even tread of
three hours ago. The power of volition and self-direc-
tion was very nearly gone. Through a half-open door
on the lower storey, he caught a glimpse of a haggard
face lighted up by wolfish eyes, and heard a savage,
growling voice. He felt that both eyes and voice cursed
him as he passed; and afterwards, recalling these
things vaguely, as one does the incidents of a hideous
dream, he knew that, for the second time, he had seen
Cyril Brandon. Guy could hardly tell how he reached
London that night, for the brain fever was coining on,
that, the next morning, held him in its clutches fast.
282
CHAPTER XXIX.
Quanto minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse.
The tidings of her son's illness reached Lady Ca-
therine quickly, at Kerton Manor. I did not hear of
it till a day later ; and when I arrived I found her
nearly exhausted by sleeplessness and anxiety, though
she had not been Guy's nurse for more than thirty -
six hours.
The sick-bed of delirium taxes the energies of the
watcher very differently from any other. There is a
sort of fascination in the roll of the restless head, toss-
ing from side to side, as if trying to escape from the
pressure of a heavy hot hand ; in the glare of the
eager eyes that follow you everywhere, with a ques-
tion in them that they never wait to have answered ;
in the incoherent words, just trembling on the verge
of a revelation, but always leaving the tale half told
— that creates a perpetual strain on the attention,
enough to wear out a strong man.
There have been mei., they say, who, sensible of
the approach of delirium, chose the one person who
flhould attend them, and ordered their doors to be
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 283
closed against all others, preferring to die almost alone
to tlie risk of what their ravings might betray. But
I have heard, also, that there are secrets — secrets
shared, too, by many confederates — to which neither
fever nor intoxication ever gave a clue. The hot blood
grew chill for an instant, and the babbling tongue was
tied, when the dreamer came near the frontier-ground,
where the Oath reared itself distinct and threatening
as ever, while all else was fantastic and vague.
There was something of this in Guy's case. We
could hear distinctly many of his broken sentences,
relating sometimes to the hunting- field, sometimes to
the orgies of wine or play. There were names, too,
occurring now and then, which to his mother were
meaningless, but to me had an evil significance. Once
or twice — not oftener — ^he was talking to Flora Bel-
lasys. But when the name of Constance Brandon
came, the harsh loud voice sank into a whisper so low
that if you had laid your ear to his lips you would
not have caught one syllable. Yery, very often I
had occasion to remark this, and to wonder how the
heart could guard its treasure so rigidly, when the
brain was driving on, aimless as a ship before the
hurricane with her rudder gone.
On the fifth day after Guy's illness began, an angel
might have interceded for him in the stead of a pure
true-hearted woman ; for Constance was dead.
I saw Lady Catherine tremble, and bend her head
284 OUY LIVINGSTONE.
down low, when she heard the news, as if herself
crushed by the blow which would fall so heavily on
her son. She had known but very little of Con-
stance : that little had made her love her dearly — who
could help doing that ? Yet it was not Constance she
was regretting then. I could see the same thought
was in her mind as in mine — who will tell Guy this
if he recovers ? I did all I could to spare her ; but
the anxiety she felt when out of the sick-room tried
her almost more than the bodily fatigue. It was best
to let her have her way. I never guessed, till then,
the extent of a weak woman's endurance.
It was a close struggle, indeed, between life and
death. The fire of the fever died out, when there
was little left for it to feed on. The arm which, a
month ago, was fatal as old Front-de-bceuf's, had not
strength enough in its loosened sinews to lift itself
three inches from the coverlet.
Guy had fallen at last into a heavy sleep. The
doctors said it was the turning-point. If he woke
quite calm and sane, the immense power of his con-
stitution would probabl}^ enable him to rally ; if not,
the worst that could be feared was certain.
He woke after many hours. There was such a
stillness in the room as he unclosed his eyes, that you
might have heard his mother's heart beat as she sat
motionless by his bedside. They recognized her at
once — heavy and dija as they were — for he tried to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 285
turn his head to kiss her hand that lay on the pillow
beside him. Then we knew that he was saved ; and
I saw, for the first time, tears stream down Lady
Catherine's worn cheeks. She could check the evi-
dence of her grief better than that of her joy.
He saw me, too, as I came forward out of the
shadow. *Is that you, Frank?' he said, faintly.
* How very good of you to come ! ' We could not let
him speak any more.
On the third day after the change for the better, I
was alone with the invalid. He turned to me sud-
denly, and spoke in a low voice, but so steady that it
surprised me. * Frank, what have you heard of Con-
stance ? '
Had I been arming myself to meet that question —
disciplining my voice and countenance for days — only
to fail so miserably at last ? I felt unspeakably angry
and self-reproachful, when I saw that my face had
told him all.
* When did she die ? ' he went on in the same
measured tone, without taking his eyes off me. I
think he had nerved himself just enough for the effort,
and was afraid of breaking down if he paused.
I could speak now, and told. him. I was going on
to tell him, too, how calmly and happily her Kfe had
ended (her aunt had written all this to Lady Cather-
ine), when Guy stopped me — not coldly, but with a
hopeless sadness in his accent very painful to hear.
286 GUY LmNG STONE.
* Thank you, it is meant kindly ; but I would rather
not speak of this, even to you — at least for some time.*
His self-command carried him through bravely,
but it only just lasted out. Then he turned his head
aside, and threw his arm across it. As I drew back
to the window, I saw the quivering of the long emaci-
ated fingers that veiled his face. I did not look
again till Guy's voice called to me, quite composedly ;
for I did not dare to pry into or meddle with the secrets
of the strong heart that knew its own bitterness so well.
I told Lady Catherine what had passed. She was
very much relieved to hear that it was all over. She
never opened her lips on the subject to her son : indeed,
though those two understood each other thoroughly,
there were wonderfully few confidences between them.
Guy's convalescence was slow — far slower than we
had hoped for. It seemed as if some spring was
broken in his being, not easily to be replaced. He
was moody and listless always, speaking very seldom ;
but his words and manner, when he did talk, were
gentler and more kindly than I ever remembered them.
One of his first visitors was Colonel Mohun. He
had been incessant in his inquiries, and had ofi*ered
to share our watching; but Lady Catherine would
not hear of it. She had a sort of dread at the idfea of
that grim face lowering over the sick man's bed.
No one was present at their first interview. Ralph
was more moved than he cared to show at his old
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 287
friend's altered looks and ways ; but he gave him the
account of his search after the lost letter conscien-
tiously, without sparing a single detail. * It must
have gone hard with Guy/ he remarked to me,
thoughtfully, as he came away. ' He's very far from^
right yet. When I told him what WilKs had done,
I made sure he would be very angry. He only said
" Poor wretch ! he acted under orders, and did not
know what mischief he was doing." Ho wants rous-
ing ; but I am sure I don't know what is to do it.'
Forgiveness and forgetfulness of injuries seemed to
that hard old heathen the most dangerous sign of
bodily and mental debility.
He came almost daily after that ; and I think his
rough ways and sharp sarcastic remarks acted on
Livingstone as a sort of tonic — bitter, but strength-
ening.
A few days later Mrs Yavasour called. She, too,
saw Guy alone. She surely had a message to deliver,
or she would not have ventured on an interview which
must have been so painful to both. It did not last
long ; but when she came down, her thick black veil
was drawn closely over her face ; and that evening
Guy was denied to Ealph Mohun.
One afternoon Livingstone was quite by himself.
The Colonel had gone into Warwickshire for a few
days' hunting ; Lady Catherine had paid her usual
visit and had gone back to her hotel, and I was out
288 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
for an hour or two. We did not mind leaving him
a good deal alone ; indeed, he preferred it very often,
and said so.
His servant came in, looking rather puzzled, to say
that a lady wished to see him. She woidd not give
her name, but said that she would not detain him
many minutes.
Guy had not time to refuse admittance to the visitor,
she followed so close upon her message. Though she
was closely wrapped in her mantle, and her veil fell
in triple folds, there was no mistaking the turn of the
haughty head, the smooth elastic step, and the lithe
undulations of a figure matchless between the four
seas. No wonder that he drew his breath hard as he
recognized Flora Bellasvs.
289
CHAPTER XXX.
Treu und fest.
As the door closed, Flora advanced quickly. * Confess
you are surprised to see me/ slie said, holding out
her little gloved hand. The courtesy towards the
sex, which was hereditary with the Livingstones, con-
trasting strangely with their fierce, ungovernahle tem-
pers, made him not reject it ; but his lay passive and
nerveless in her slender fingers, never answering their
eager pressure ; it had no longer the elastic quiver of
repressed strength that she remembered and liked so
well.
* I am surprised to see you here, and so soon,* he
answered, coldly : * but I knew we should meet before
long.*
* The surprise does not seem too charming,* Miss
Bellasys said, pouting her scarlet lip, as she threw
herself into a deep bergere opposite to the couch on
which Livingstone had already sunk down again — he
was very weak and unsteady in his movements still.
Was it by chance or calculation that a fold of her
dress disarranged displayed the slender foot with its
arched instep — set ofi* by the delicate J)rodequin, a
290 GVY LIVINGSTONE.
labour of love to the Parisian Crispin — and the
straight, beautifully- turned ankle, cased in dead- white
silk ? The latter, I think ; for Flora knew how to fall
as well as Caesar or Polyxena, and had studied her
part to its minutest shade. It was by the senses that
she had always been most successful in attacking Gu}^
and she knew that, in old days, no point of feminine
perfection had a greater attraction for him.
The temptation, if so it was intended, had about as
much effect upon him now, as it might have had on
weather-beaten St Simeon Stylites when his penances
had lasted twenty years.
After a minute's silence, during which Flora was
gazing intently on her companion, leaning her chin
upon her hand, she spoke again :
' I fear you must have been very ill. IIow — how
changed you are ! '
Li^ingstone was, indeed, fearfully altered. The
healthy brown of his complexion had given place to a
dull, opaque pallor ; there were great hollows under
the prominent cheek-bones, and his loose dressing-
robe of black velvet hung straight down from the
gaunt angles of the immense joints and bones. His
voice sounded deeper than ever, as he replied : — .
* Yes, I have been very ill, and I am utterl}^ changed.
But you must have had something more important to
say to me, or you would hardly have ventured on this
ttep.*
GUT LIVINGSTONE. 291
She was getting very nervous — inexplicably so for
lier, wlio generally kept her head, while she made
others lose theirs.
*No. I only wished — * she hesitated, trying to
force a smile, and then broke off suddenly — ' Guy, do
speak kindly to me. DonH look at me so strangely.'
His answer came, brief and stern.
*I will speak, then. Miss Bellasys, on what au-
thority from me did you venture to interfere in my
concerns so far as to intercept my correspondence ? *
She tried denial still ; it was her way ; she always
would do it, even when it could avail nothing — per-
haps to gain time.
* I don't know what you mean. I never — '
Livingstone interrupted her, with a curl of con-
tempt on his lip.
* Stop, I beg of you. It is useless to stoop lower
than you have done already. I have WiUis's written
confession here. Ah ! I know your talents too well
to accuse you without material proof.*
She raised her head, haughtily enough now. There
was something Spartan about that girl. She had such
an utter recklessness of exposure — it was in failure
that she felt the shame.
* At least you ought not to reproach me. You
might guess my motive — ^my only one — without forc-
ing me to confess it. Have I not gratified your pride
enough already ? *
292 GUY LI^^NGSTONE.
'You know tliat is not the question ? ' Guy answered,
gravely. * Yet you are lialf riglit. I could not re-
proach you for any fair, honest move. In much I
own myself more guilty than you. But this is very
different. Miss Bellasys, you must have distrusted
greatly your own powers of fascination before you
stooped to such cruel treachery.'
*I did not know what I was doing,* she whispered,
* I did not know she was dying. Ah, Guy ! — have
pity.'
*But you knew it might kill her, to find her letter —
such a letter — unanswered. You knew what she must
have suffered before she wrote it. You did all this in
cold blood, and now you say to me, " have pity I '•' If
an accountable being — not a woman and her miserable
instrument — had wronged me so, I would have risked
my soul to have revenge ; and, because that is im-
possible, you think I feel less bitterly ? You might
have known me better by this time.'
Instead of being softened by her appeal, his heart,
features, and tone were hardening more and more.
The sting of defeat, imminent and unavoidable,
that, ere this, has driven strong and wise men headlong
into the thickest of the battle to hunt for death there,
proved too much for a temper never well regulated.
* You have decided, then?' she cried, passionately,
her QyQs flashing and her lip quivering. * After all I
have risked and borne for vou, I am to be sacrificed to
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 293
a shadow — a memory — the memory of that cold, pale
statue of propriety ? ' She checked herself suddenly,
only just in time.
Guy had sprung to his feet, excitement bringing
back for the moment all his lost strength. If Ralph
Mohun had seen him, he would not have feared that
the wrathful devil was cast out. It was raging
within him then, untamed and dangerous as ever.
* Do you dare to insult her now that she is dead —
and to me, not a month after I have lost her ? It is
not safe — take care, take care ! '
The tempest of his passion made him forget, for the
first time in his life, the weakness of her who had
roused it.
Elora was only a woman after aU, though haughty
and bold of spirit as any that had breathed. Her own
outbreak of anger vanished before that terrible burst
of wrath, just as the camp-fire, when the prairie is
blazing, is swallowed up in the great roaring torrent
of flame. She bowed her head on her hands, trem-
bling all over in pure physical fear. Guy felt
ashamed when he saw the efiect of his violence, and
spoke more gently than he had done yet.
* Forgive me. I was very wrong ; but I have not
learnt to control myself — I never shall, I fear; but you
ought not to say such words, even if I could bear them
better. Now, it is time that we should part ; you have
stayed here too long already. You must not risk your
294 GTJY LIVINGSTONE.
reputation for mc, who cannot even be grateful for the
venture. We shall never meet again, if I can avoid it ;
it would be strange to do so as mere acquaintance,
and in any other way — no, don't stop me — it is impos-
sible. It will be long before I go much into society
again, so I shall not cross your path.*
Flora knew it was hopeless then. She was quite
broken down, and did not raise her head from her hand,
through the fingers of which, half shading her face, the
tears trickled fast. Guy heard her murmur, very low
and plaintively — *I have loved you so long — so
dearly ! *
Mistress as she was of every art that can deceive, I
believe she only spoke the simple truth then. "With
all the energy of her strong sensual nature, I believe
she did worship Livingstone. To most men she would
have been far more dangerous thus, in the abandon-
ment of her sorrow, than ever she had been in the
insolence of her splendid beauty. — -^
There are some women, very few (Johnson's fair
friend, Sophy Streatfield, was one), whom weeping does
not disfigure. Their eyelids do not get red or swollen,
only the iris softens for a moment ; and the di"ops do
not streak or blot the polished cheeks, but glitter there,
singly, Like dew on marble ; their sobs are well regu-
lated, and follow in a certain rhythm ; and the heav-
ing bosom sinks and swells, not too stormily. It is a
rare accomplishment. Miss Bellasys had not prac-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 295
tised it often, being essentially Democritian — not to
say Rabelaisian — in her pbilosopby ; but she did it
very well. Like every other emotion, it became her.
Guy hardly glanced at her, and never answered a
word.
She rose to go ; then turned all at once to try one
effort more. * Yes, we must part,' she said. ' I know
it now. But give me a kind word to take with me. I
shall be so lonely, now that you are my enemy. Will
you not say you wish me well? Ah, Gruy ! remember
all the hours that I have tried to make pleasant for
you. Say " good-bye. Flora," only those two little
words, gently.* Her voice was broken and uncertain,
but full of music still, like the wind wandering
through an organ.
Just at that moment I opened the door. (I had
not an idea Livingstone was not alone.) I closed it
before either had remarked my entrance, but not be-
fore I had caught sight of a very striking picture.
Guy was leaning one arm against the mantelpiece ;
the other was crossed over his chest ; on that arm
Flora was clinging, with both her hands clenched in
the passion of her appeal. Her slight bonnet had
fallen rather back, showing the masses of her glorious
hair, and all her flushed cheeks, and her eyes that
shone with a strange lustre, though there were tears
still on their long trailing lashes. I saw the imper-
gpnation of material Ijfe, exuberant and vigoroug^
296 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
3'et dellcatel}'' lovely — the Lust of the Eye incarnate.
He stood perfectly still, making no effort to cast her
off. Had he done so with violence, it would scarcely
have evinced more repidsion than did the expression of
his face. There was no more of yielding or softening
in the set features and severe eyes than you would find
in those of a corpse three hours old, whose spirit has
passed in some great anger or pain. Can you guess
what made him more than ever hard and unrelenting?
He was thinking loho tried to win a kind farewell from
him six months ago, and utterly failed. Should her
rival have this triumph, too, over the dead ?
As he answered deliberately, each slow word shut
out another hope, like bolts shot, one by one, in the
lock of a prison-door.
* I remember nothing of the past except your last
act, for which I will never, never forgive you. I form
no wish for your welfare or for the reverse. There
shall not stand the faintest shadow of a connecting link
that I can break asunder. _ Between you and me there
is the gulf of a fresh-made grave ; and no thought of
mine shall ever cross it — so help me God in heaven!^
Florals last arrow was shivered : if she had had
another in her quiver she would have had no courage
to try it, after hearing those terrible words. She
caught his hand, however, before he could guess her
intention, and pressed her lips upon it, till they left
their print behind ; and then she was gone. Her light
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 297
foot hardly sounded as it sprang down tlie stairs, but
its faint echo was the last living sound connected with
Flora Bellasjs that ever reached the ear of Guy-
Livingstone.
"When I heard more of the interview, I thought, and
think still, that he erred on the side of harshness. He
vras so fixed and steady in his purpose, that he could
have afforded to have compromised a little in express-
ing it. But he did things in his own way, and fought
with his own weapons — effective, but hardly to be
wielded by most men, like the axe of the King-maker
or the bow of Odysseus. In carrying out his will, he
was apt to consider the softer feelings of others as
little as he did his own. It was just so with him,
when riding to hounds : he went as straight as a line,
and if he did not spare his horses, he certainly did not
himself.
To each man alive, one particular precept of the
Christian code is harder to realize and practise than all
the rest put together. It was this, perhaps, which
drove the Anchorites on from one degree of penance to
another, and made them so savage in self- tormenting.
"\^nien the macerated flesh had almost lost sensation,
the thorn that had galled it sometimes in their hot
youth rankled incessantly, more venomous than ever.
That one injunction — 'Forgive, as you would hope to
be forgiven ' — was ever a stumbling-block to Guy.
Besides all this, he knew, better than any one, what
298 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
sort of an adversary he was contending against ; one
with whom each step in negotiation or temporizing was
a step towards discomfiture. It was like the Spaniard
with his navaja against the sabre : your only chance
is, keeping him steadily at the sword's-point, without
breaking ground ; if he once gets under your guard,
not all the saints in the calendar can save you.
Perhaps, then, he was right after all. Certainly,
E,alph Mohun thought so, as he listened to a sketch
of the proceedings with a grim satisfaction edifying to
witness.
As for me, before I went to bed that night, I read
through those chapters in the * Mort d' Arthur * that
tell how the long guilty loves of Launcelot and Guen-
ever ended. In the present case, there was certainly
wonderfully little penitence on the lady's side ; but yet
there were points of resemblance which struck me. (I
always think the Queen must have been the image of
Flora.) It is worth while wading through many
chapters of exaggeration and obscurity to come out
into the light of the noble epilogue at last.
Good King Arthur is gone. It bit deep, that blow
which Mordred the strong traitor struck when the
spear stood out a fathom behind his back : and Morgan
la Fay came too late to heal the grievous wound that
had taken cold. The frank, kind, generous heart that
would not mistrust till certainty left no place for sus-
picion, can never be wrung or betrayed again. The
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 299
bitter parting between the lovers is over too ; and
Launcelot is gone to his own place, without tlie fare-
well caress he prayed for when he besought the Queen
' to kiss him once and never more.' After a very few
short months the beautiful wild bird has beaten her-
self to death against her cage, and the vision comes
by night, bidding Launcelot arise and fetch the corpse
of Guenever home. She wandered often and far in
life ; but where should her home be now^ but by the
side of her husband ? Hardly and painfully in two
days, he and the faithful Seven accomplish the thirty
miles that lay between ; so utterly is that unearthly
strength^ before which lance-shafts were as reeds, and
iron- bars as silken threads (remember the May night
in Meliagraunce's castle), enfeebled and broken down.
He stands in the nunnery- church at Almesbury ; he
hears from the Queen's maidens of the prayer that
was ever on her lips through those two days when she
lay a-dying, how * she besought God that she might
never have power to see Sir Launcelot with her
worldly eyes.* Then, says the chronicler, * he saw her
visage ; yet he wept not greatly, but sighed. And so
he did all the observance of the service himself, both
the dirge at night and the mass on the morrow.* Not
till every rite was performed, not till the earth had
closed over the marble coffin, did Launcelot swoon.
I know nothing in fiction so piteous as the words
that tell of his dreary, mortal sorrow. * Then, Sir
300 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank,
but continually mourned until he was dead ; and then
he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined
away ; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might
make him to eat, and little he drank ; so that he waxed
shorter by a cubit than he was, and the people could
not know him ; for evermore day and night he prayed ;
but needfully as nature required sometimes he slum-
bered a broken sleep ; and always he was lying
grovelling on King Arthui-'s and Queen Guenever's
tomb. And there was no comfort that his fellows
could make him ; it availed nothing.'
'We know that it cannot last long ; we know that
the morning is fast approaching, when they will find
him * stark dead, and lying as he had smiled ; ' when
they will bear him forth, according to his vow, to his
resting-place in Joyous Guard ; when there v.ill be
pronounced over him that famous funeral oration — the
truest, the simplest, the noblest, I think, that ever
was spoken over the body of a sinful man.
301
CHAPTEH XXXI.
I pray God pardon me,
That I no more, without a pang,
His choicest works can see.
IT was long before Livingstone's health recovered the
check to its improvement given by that interview.
However, as the spring advanced he began to regain
strength rapidly ; and towards the end of May he and
I started in the Petrely which he had just bought, for
a cruise in the Mediterranean.
It would seem hard that any one, coasting for the
first time along the shores of Italy, and penetrating
ever and anon far into the interior, should not feel and
display some interest in the succession of pictures, of
living Nature and dead Art, that meet you at every
step. I cannot say that I ever detected the faintest
symptom of such in my companion. He strayed with
me through the old Forum, and through Adrian's
villa, and lingered by the Alban lake ; but it was
more to keep me in countenance than anything else.
I liked them better this second time of seeing them
than I did the first ; I doubt if they left an impression
302 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
on his mind equal to the dimmest photograph that
ever was the pride of an amateur and the puzzle of
his friends. The brilliant landscapes made up of
bold headlands, hanging woods, and sunny bays, fared
no better. Guy did not come on deck for two hours
after we cast anchor off Mola di Gaeta.
Out ciceroni were much pained and scandalized at an
indifference which exceeded all that they had yet en-
countered in the matter-of-fact Signori Inglesi. I saw
one of them look quite relieved_, when, after quitting
us, he had to listen to an excitable young Jewess en-
deavouring to express her raptures in the most
execrable Italian. The physical effort it cost her was
awful to witness, especially as she was wintering in
Italy for her lungs. 0, long-suffering stones of the
CoKseum ! which returned the most barbarous echo
— the growls from the cells when their tenants scented
the Christian ; the jargon of the Goth and the Hun ;
or the lingua Anglo- JRo?na?ia in hocca Bloomshuriana ?
The two first-named classes at all events confined
themselves to their own dialect, and spoke it, doubt-
less, with perfect propriety. However, in the present
instance, the custode took the sentimental ebullition
of the Maid of Judah as an amende honorable, and
rubbed his key complacently.
I do not believe that our travels brought to Guy a
single distraction to the great sorrow that all the
while held him fast.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 303
A Gorman pLilosopher under similar circumstances
would have written reams and spoken volumes (eating
and drinking all the while PantagruelicaUy), theoriz-
ing and abstracting his emotions till they vanished
into cloud and vapour. A true disciple of Rousseau
or Lamartine would have analyzed his grief, dividing
it into as many channels as Alexander did the Oxus,
till the main- stream was lost, and each individual
rivulet might be crossed dry-shod. Both would have
shed tears perpetual and profuse. I read the other
day of a Frenchman who, in the midst of a mixed
assembly remembering that on that day ten years he
had lost a dear friend, instantly went out and wept
bitterly. He was so charmed with the happiness of
the thought that, as he says, * I took the resolution
henceforth to weep for all whom I have loved, each
on the anniversary _of their death.*
Can you conceive anything more touching than the
picture of the Bereaved One consulting his almanack
and then ' going at it with a will ? ' It was an athletic
performance, certainly ; but remember what condition
he must have been in from the constant training.
From the episode of Niobe down to the best song in
the * Princess,' how many beautiful lines have been
devoted to those outward and visible signs of sorrow !
Sadder elegiacs, more pathetic threnodies might
have been written on the tears that were stifled at
their source, either from pride or from physical in-
301 GUY LIVliNGSTONE.
ability to let tliein flow. Great regrets, like great
Bcheines, are generally matured in the shade. If I
had to choose the tombs where most hopes and af-
fections are buried, I should turn, I think, not to those
with the long inscriptions of questionable poetry or
blameless Latinity, but to where just the initials and
a cross are cut on the single stone.
The philosophical and poetical mourners hardly
suffered much more than Guy did during those months,
and for long after too, though he w^as always quite
silent on the subject, and would speak cheerfully on
others, now and then ; and though, from the day that
he parted with Constance to that of his own death,
his eyes were as dry as the skies over the Delta. He
used to lie for hours in that state of utter listlessnesa
which gives a reality to the sad old Eastern proverb,
*Man is better sitting than standing, lying down than
sitting, dead than l^'ing down.'
With all this, however, his health improved every
day. After the wHd. life he had led latel}', the per-
fect rest, and the clear pure air, refreshed him
marvellously. It had the effect of coming out of a
room heated and laden with smoke into the cool sum-
mer morning. His strength, too, had returned almost
completely. I found this out at Baiae.
The guardian of the Cetito Catnerelie, a big hzzarone,
became inordinately abusive. My impression is that
he had received about fifteen times his due; but seeing
GUT LIVINGSTOXK. 305
our yacht in. the offing, he conceived the idea that
we were princes in our o\vti country, and ought to be
robbed in his proportionally. Guy's eyes began to
gleam at last, and he made a step towards the offender.
I thought he was going to be heavily visited ; but
Livingstone only lifted him by the throat and held
him suspended against the wall, as you may see the
children in those parts pin the Kzards in a forked
stick. Then he let him drop, unhurt, but green with
terror. A year ago, a straightforward blow from the
shoulder would have settled the business in a shorter
time, and worked a strange alteration in good Gfiu-
eeppe's handsome sunburnt face. But the old hard-
ness of heart was wearing away. I had another proof
of this some days later.
We were dropping down out of the Bay of Naples.
Though we weighed anchor in early morning, it was
past noon before we cleared the Bocca di Capri^ for
there was hardly wind enough to give the Petrel
steerage-way. The smoke from our long Turkish
pipes mounted almost straight upwards, and lingered
over our heads in thin blue curls ; yet the sullen, dis-
contented heave and roll in the water were growing
heavier every hour. The black tufa cliffs crested with
shattered masonry — the foundations of the sty where
the Boar of Caprese wallowed — were just on our star-
board quarter, when Riddell, the master, came up to
Livingstone. * I think we'd better make all snug,
306 OUY LIVINGSTONE.
sir/ he said. * There's dirty weather to windward,
and we haven't too much sea-room.' He was an old
man-of-war's boatswain, and had had a tussle, in his
lime, on evciy sea and ocean in the kno^vn world,
with every wind that blows. He had rather a con-
tempt for the Mediterranean, esteeming it j ust one
degree above the Cowes Roads, and attaching about
as much importance to its vagaries as one might do
to the fractiousness of a spoilt child. If he had been
caught in the most terrible tempest that ever deso-
lated the shores of the Great Lake, I don't believe he
would have called it anything but * dirty weather.'
He was too good a sailor, though, not to take all pre-
cautions, even if he had been sailing on a piece of or-
namental water : and he went quickly forward to
give the necessary orders, after getting a nod of as-
sent from Guy.
The latter raised himself lazily on his arm, so as to
see all round over the lower bulwarks. There was a
blue-black bank of cloud rolling up from the S. W.
Puffs of wind, with no coolness in them, but dry and
uncertain as if stirred by some capricious artificial
means, struck the sails without filling them, and
drove the Petrel through the water by fits and starts.
*I really believe we are going to have a white
squall,' Guy remarked indifferently. * Well ! we
shall see how the boa!; behaves. Eiddell only spoke
just in time.*
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 307
Suddenly his tone changed, and he said, quickly
and decidedly, * Hold on everything ! ^
The master turned his weatherwiso eye towards the
quarter where the danger lay, and frowned. * We're
none too soon with it, Mr Livingstone. If there's a
yard too much canvas spread when that reaches us, I
won't answer for the spars.'
Deeper and deeper the blackness came rushing
down upon us, an angry ridge of foam before it — the
white squall showing its teeth.
Guy took the old man by the arm, and pointed to
an object to leeward that none on board had remarked
yet. It was a small harca with four men in it.
They were Capriotes, as we found afterwards, the
boldest boatmen in the Bay. Had they been pure-
bred Neapolitans, they would have been down on their
faces long ago, screaming out prayers to a long mus-
ter-roll of Saints. As it was, they stood manfully to
their oars, straining every muscle to reach us ; there
was no other safety for them then. * They will never
get alongside in time, unless we bear down to meet
them,' Li^dngstone said, ' and what chance will they
have in ten minutes hence ? '
Riddell was only half satisfied. His creed evi-
dently was, that a sailor's first duty is to his own ship ;
but neither he nor any one else ever argued with
Guy. 'As you like, sir,' he grumbled, soniewhat
308 OUT LIVINGSTONE.
discontenteaiy. ' Keep her full, Saunders ; we shall
fetch them so/
If a stitch of sail had been taken off our vessel she
could never have reached the harca, though her crew
strove hard to meet us. She forged down slowly
enough as it was, but we were just in time to tako
them on board.
' Reef everything now ! ' Eiddell shouted, leaping
himself first into the rigging, like a wild cat.
* Cheerily men — with a will ! ' All his ill-humour was
gone when the peril became imminent.
We were strong-handed, and the four Capriotes did
us seamen's service : but it was ' touch and go.' The
last man had scarcely reached the deck when the line
of foam was within half-cable's length. Then there
came a sound unlike any I had ever heard before in
the elements, beginning with a whistling sort of scream
and deepening into a roar as of many angry voices,
bestial and human, striving for the mastery ; and
then the Petrel staggered and reeled over almost on
her beam-ends, in the midst of a white boiling caldron
of mad water. She recovered herself, however,
quickly, quivering and trembling as a live creature
might do after severe punishment ; and we drove on,
the strong arms at the wheel keeping her well before
the blast. In a very few minutes, I suppose (though
it seemed very long), I heard old Hiddell say, * Sharp
GVY LIVINGSTONE. 300
while it lasted, Mr Livingstone ; but they're right to
call it a squall. TheyVe nothing down here-away
like a good right-do's\Ti hard gale.'
I looked up, clearing my eyes blinded with tlie
hissing spray, just as Guy answered, coolly as ever.
He had run his arm through a becket, and did not
seem to have moved otherwise ; whereas I disgraced
myself by falling at full length as the squall struck us.
* Ah, youVe got difficult to please ; it's always so
when one sees so much of life. IsTever mind, Riddell,
the Mediterranean does its best, and perhaps we'll go
and try your tornadoes some day. Where's the harca
now ? '
"Where ? The eyes that could have told you that
must have looked a hundred fathoms deep. There
was not the faintest vestige of such a thing to be seen ;
not even a shivered plank. The poor Capriotes' * bread-
winner ' had gone the way of Antonio's argosies —
another whet to the all-devouring appetite, for which
nothing that swims is too large or too small.
It was almost calm again when we landed the res-
cued men at Salerno ; we were glad to get rid of them,,
for their gratitude was overpowering, especiaU}^ as all
the salt-water that had soaked them could not dis-
guise the savour of their favourite hjerb.
You may break, you may ruin the clay if j^-ou will,
but the scent of the garlic ^vill cling to it still.
Guy gave them enough to buy two such boats as
310 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
they had lost — about as much as one wins or loses in
an evening's whist, with fair luck and half-crown
points.
This incident showed the change that was coming
over my companion. His principle had always been
that, a man who could not help himself was not
worth helping. He never asked for aid himself, and
never gave it to his own sex, as a rule. I believe his
rescuing me at B was a solitary case, and I took
it as a great compliment. You will say this one was
only an act of common humanity. If you had known
the man, you would have thought, as I did, that the
words of her, who was an angel then, were bearing
fruit already.
Nothing happened of the slightest interest as we
ran down through the Straits of Messina, and up the
eastern coast of Calabria. We did not stay to see
Sicily then, for we had settled to be in Venice by a
certain day, to meet the Forresters.
If I were to be seduced into ' word-painting,* the
Queen of the Adriatic would tempt me. I know no
other scene so provocative of enthusiasm as the square
acre round St Mark's. AU things considered, the
author of the * Stones of Venice ' seems very suffi-
ciently rational and cold-blooded.
We cannot all be romantic about landscapes.
Nature has worshippers enough not to grudge a few
tp Art. For rayselfj admiring both when in perfeq*
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 311
tion, I prefer hewn stones to rough rocks — the Canal-
azzo to any cascade. The glory of old days that clings
round the Palace of the Doges stands comparison, in
my mind's eye, with the Iris of Terni.
But why trench on a field already amply cultivated ?
I will never describe any place till I find a virgin
spot untouched by Murray, and then I will send it to
him, with my initials. Does such exist in Europe ?
* Faith, very hardly, sir.' Nil intentatiim reliquit.
What obligations do we not owe to the accomplished
compilers? Earely rising into poetry (I except 'Spain^*
— the field, and bar one), never jocose, they move on,
severe in simplicity, straight to their solemn end of
enlightening the British Tourist. Upright as E-hada-
manthus^ they hold the scales that weigh the merits
of cathedrals, hotels, ruins, guid-es, pictures, and
mountain-passes, telling us what to eat, drink, and
avoid. Let us repose on them in blind but contented
reliance.
I heard of one man, clever but eccentric, who be-
came so exasperated at seeing the volumes in every-
body's hand, and hearing them in everybody's mouth,
that he conceived a sort of personal enmity to them,
impiously dissenting from their conclusions and
questioning their premises. The well-known red
cover at last had the same efiect on him as the scarlet
cloak on the buU in the corrida^ making him stamp
and roar hideously. The angry gods had demented
312 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
him. VcB miscro ! How could sucli sacrilege end but
badly ? Braving and deriding the solemn warning of
the Prophet, he attempted a certain pass in the Tyrol
alone, and losing his way, caught a pleurisy which
proved fatal. lie died game, but, I am sorry to say,
impenitent, speaking blasphemy against The Book,
with his last breath. Discitejustitiam, moniti, ct 7ion
temnerc — .
Such heresy, be it far from me ! If I had my will,
I protest I would found a ' Murray's Travelling Fel-
lowship ' in one or both of the Universities. If I
had the poetic vein, I would indite a pendant to
Byron's Iambics to that enlightened bibliopole. He
published *Childe Harold,' and the Handbook to
Everywhere. Could one man in one century do more
for the Ideal and the Real.
313
CHAPTER XXXII.
Sweetest lips that ever were kissed,
Brightest eyes that ever have shone,
May sigh and whisper, and he not list,
Or look away, and never be missed
Long or ever a month be gone.
It was a very curious manage that of tlie Forresters.
They were wonderfully happy, yet you could not call
theirs domestic felicity. They went out perpetually
everywhere, and were scarcely ever alone together at
home. The cold-water cure of matrimony had not
been able to cool either down into the dignity and
steadiness befitting that honourable state. As far as
I could see, Charley flirted as much as ever ; the only
difference was, that he stole upon his victims now
with a sort of protecting and paternal air, merging
gradually, as the interest deepened, into the old con-
fidential style. The whole effect was, if anything,
more seductive than before.
The fair Venetians admired him intensely. His
bright, clear complexion and rich chestnut hair had
the charm of novelty for them. Though without the
faintest respect for granmiar or idiom, he spoke their
314 GUY LmNGSTONE.
language with perfect composure, confidence, and
self-satisfaction ; and his tones were so well adapted
to the slow, soft, languid tongue, that his blunders
sounded better than other men's correctness of speech.
MaUem mehercule cum Platone errare. When ho said,
* Si Siora/ it seemed as if he were calling the lady
by a pet-name.
Isabel did a good deal of mischief too in her unas-
suming way ; but I think she confined her depreda-
tions chiefly to her compatriots.
The best of it was, that neither objected in the
least to the other's proceedings, appearing, indeed, to
consider them rather creditable than otherwise. Per-
haps it would be as well if this principle of reciprocal
free-agency were somewhat extended, though not
quite to the latitude to which they carried it.
We cannot send our wives about surroimded by a
detachment of semiviri to keep the peace ; our cli-
mate is too uncertain, and influenza too prevalent, for
us to watch their windows ourselves, as they do at
Cadiz. Fancy mounting guard in Eaton Square, at
four p.m., shrouded in a yellow fog, on the chance of
surprising a forbidden morning- visitor !
Supposing that we could adopt either of thos«
methods, why should they prove more efiicacious than
they are said to be on their native soil ? If the British
husband will allow nothing for the principles, chari-
tably supposed by others to be inherent in the wife of
GTJY LIVINGSTONE. 315
his bosom — notliing for tlie Damoclean damages hang-
ing over the imaginary plotter against his peace —
why should he depreciate his own merits and powers
so completely as to consider himself out of the lists al-
together ? If he would only desist from making him-
self consistently disagreeable, I believe, in most cases,
his substantial interest would be little endangered.
That poor Ilephcestus ! The net was an ingenious
device, and a pretty piece of workmanship, but — it
didn't answer.
In despite of Mrs Ellis, there are women whose
mission it is not to be good housewives ; they can't be
useful if they would, any more than May-flies can
spin silk. Like them, they can attract fish (and
sometimes get snapped up if they go too close), that's
all. If you marry them, you must accept them as
they are, and take your chance. Be generous, then,
and don't stop their waltzing. I believe there may
be flirting without the most distant idea of crimin-
ality — fencing with wooden foils, where no blood is
drawn.
A lady was asked the other day, * what she did
when an admirer became too lover-like ? ' Her answer
was — ' I never had such a case.' I think she spoke
the truth ; yet she was a coquette renowned through
a good part of two hemispheres.
As for the doubts and fears of the other sex, the
subject is too vast for me. To the end of time there
3l6 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
will be Dcianiras (with imaginary lolcs), Zaras, and
Mrs Caudles. Tragedy and comedy have tried in rain
to frighten or to laugh them out of the indulgence of
the fatal passion that wreaks itself indiscriminately on
the best and the worst, the youngest and the oldest,
ih.Q simplest and the most guileful of adult males.
Let us not attempt to argue then ; but, wrapping our-
selves in our ^nrtue, endure as best we may the ground-
less reproaches and accusations of our ox-eyed Junes.
"V\''e did Venice very severely, with the exception
of Forrester, who, after strolKng once through the
Palace of the Doges (a pilgrimage interrupted by
many halts and profuse lamentations), declined seeing
anything more than what he could view from his gon-
dola. I never saw any one so completely at home in
that most delicious of conveyances. His Venetian
friends encouraged and sympathized with him in his
laziness, and pitied him with eyes and words, for ever
being teased about it. Indeed he was generally left
alone ; but one day we were landing to see a church of
great repute, and Miss Devereux made a strong appeal
to him to follow her. She was a handsome clever girl,
a great favourite of Charley's. I believe they used to
quarrel and make it up again about six times in every
twenty-four hours. We saw that it was hopeless ; but
she was obstinate enough to try and persuade him.
* Now, Captain Forrester, you must come. I have
set my heart upon it.*
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 317
He lifted his long eyelashes in a languid satisfaction.
' Thank you very much ; I like people to be interested
about me ; but you see it's simply impossible. Look at
Ptinaldo ; there's a sensible examj)le for you. He
doesn't mean to stii- till he is obliged to do so/ The
handsome gondolier had already couched, to enjoy a
bask in the sun, which was blazing fiercely down on
his bi'own face and magnificent black hair.
* There is the most perfect Titian,' she persisted.
* ]N"o use. I should not appreciate it,^ he replied. ' I
have been through a gallery with you before. It's a
delusion and a snare. I never looked at a single
picture. The canvas won't stand the comparison.'
' I did not think you w^ould have refused me,' Miss
Devereux went on, 'particularly after last night, when
you were so very — amusing.'' She hesitated out the
last word with a blush. It evidently was not the
adjective that ought to have closed the sentence.
'Amusing!' replied Charley, plaintively. 'You
need not say any more. I am crushed for the day. I
meant to be especially touching and pathetic. Well,
there's some good in everything, though. I enter-
tained an angel unaw^ares.'
' I shall know how far to believe you another time,
at all events,' she retorted, getting rather provoked.
'Don't be unjust,' said Forrester, profoundly regard-
less of the fact that his wife was within three paces of
them. ' I said I was ready to die for you. So I am.
313 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
You may fix tlie time ; but I may clioose tlie place.
If you insist upon it, I'll make an end of it now —
here.* And he settled himself deeper into the pile of
cushions.
"We had no patience to listen to any more, but went
off to perform our duty. Long before he had exhausted
his arguments against moA'ing, we had returned.
Margaret Devereux missed seeing the church and its
Titian, but she got a ' great moral lesson.* She never
wasted her pretty pleadings in such a hopeless cause
again.
I remember when we mounted the Campanile the
solemn way in which he wished us huon viaggio.
When we reached the top, we made out his figure
reclining on many chairs in front of ' Florian's.'
He saw us, too, and lifted the glass before him to his
lips with a wave of approval and encouragement, just
as they do at Chamounix when the telescopes make
out a few black specks on the white crests of the
mountain. "\ATien we came down, he stopped us be-
fore we could say one word. * Yes, I know — it was
magnificent. Bella, I see you are going to rave about
the view. If you do, I'll shut you up for a week en
penitence, and feed you on nothing but " Bradshaw "
and water.*
"We spent a very pleasant month in Venice. It did
Guy good, being with the Forresters. He lu\d always
been very fond of his cousin, and she seemed to suit
GUY LIVINGSTOXE. 319
him better than any else now. She would sit by him
for hours, talking in her low caressing tones that
soothed him like a cool soft hand laid on a forehead
fever-heated. Isabel was not afraid of him now ; but
a great awe mingled with her pity.
It is curious, and tells well perhaps for our human
nature ; neither pride of birth, nor complete success,
nor profound wisdom, surrounds a man with such
reverence as the being possessed with a great sorrow.
At least none can envy him ; and so those who were
his enemies once — like the gallant Frenchman when
he saw his adversary's empty sleeve — bring their
swords to the salute and pass on.
At last we started for Rome, our party nearly filling
tvro carriages. There are only two w^ays of travelling :
in your own carriage, with courier and fourgon, like a
Russian or transatlantic noble ; or in vetturino. This
last mode, which was ours, is scarcely less pleasant, if
you are not in a hurry. The charm of having, for a
certain period, every care as to ways and means off
your mind, compensates for the six-miles- an-hour pace.
So we moved slowly southward, through Yerona —
where one thinks more of the Avon than the Adige —
where, in tombs poised like Mahomet's coffin, the
mighty Scagliari sleep between earth and heaven, as if
not quite fit for either — where are the cypresses in the
trim old garden, soaring skyward tiU the eyes that fol-
320 GUY LIVINGSTON'E.
low grow dizzy, the trees that were green and luxuri-
ant years before the world was redeemed. So, tlirough
Mantua and Bologna down to Florence, where, I think,
the spirits of Catherine and of Cosmo linger yet ; — •
the women and the men are all so soft-toned, and silk}-,
and sinful, and cruel. We did not stay long there,
for we had all visited it before, once or twice, but kept
on our way, by the upper road to Pcome, till we
reached our last halting-place — Civita Castellana.
We were gathered round the wood-fire after dinner
(for the October evenings grew chilly as they closed
in) ; I don^t know how it was that Forrester began
telling us about their flight.
* You ought to have seen Bella's baggage,' he said
at last ; * it was so compact. You can't fancy an}'-
thing so tiny as the sac-de-nuit. A courier's money-
bag would make two of it. Then a vast cloak, and
that's all. Quite in light marching order.^
* I wonder 3'ou are not ashamed to talk about bag-
gage,' his wife retorted. * When we got to Dover,
there was his servant with four immense portmanteaus
and a dressing-case nearly as large, waiting for us.
Was it not romantic ? '
' Bah ! ' Charlej^ said. ' A man must have his com-
forts, even if he is eloping. I am sure I arranged
everything superbly. I don't know liow I did it. An
undeveloped talent for intrigue, I suppose.'
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 321
* 'Was it not kind of him to take so mucli trouble?'
Isabel asked, quite innocently, and in perfect good
faith, I am sure ; but her husband pinched the little
pink ear that was within his reach.
* She means to be sarcastic,' he said. * You've spoilt
her, Guy. If I had had time to deliberate though, I
don't think I should ever have come to the post. I
wonder how any one stands the training.'
' I'll tell you what would have suited you exactly/
Livingstone remarked — 'to have been one of those men
in the Arabian Nights, who wake and find themselves
at a strange city's gate, 10,000 leagues from home,
to whom there comes up a venerable vizier, saying,
" My son, Heaven has blessed me with one daughter,
a very pearl of beauty ; many have sought her in
marriage, but in vain. Your appearance pleases me,
and I would have you for my son-in-law." '
* Exactly,' said Forrester. 'I should not have
minded turning out somebody else's child eventually
— (they all did that, didn't they ?) — for such a piece
of luck as to be taken in and done for offhand, with-
out the trouble of thinking about it.'
Instead of looking vexed, Isabel laughed merrily,
and her eyes glittered as they rested on him, full of
a proud loving happiness.
* The best of it was,' Charley went on, ' she was in
the most dreadful state of alarm and excitement all the
322 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
way to Dover ; looldng out at every station, under tlie
impression that she should see the bridegroom there,
*' dangling his bonnet and plume/' (Though how he
was to have got ahead of us, unless he came by elec-
tric telegraph, does not appear.) What sport it would
have been ! I should have liked so to have seen the
" laggard in love " once more/
* He was not quite that,'' Isabel interrupted, rather
mischievously.
* Ah ! I dare say you kept him up to the traces,'
her husband remarked, languidly. * You have a talent
that way. "What " passages," as Yarney called them,
there must have been, eh, Guy ? We won't hear
your confession now. Puss. In pity to Mademoiselle
Agliie's eyes (which are very fine), if not to j^our own
(which are very useful), I think you had better go to
bed. That ferocious vctturino will have us up at un-
holy hours, and is not to be mitigated.'
We sat talking for a little while after Isabel left
us ; then Forrester rose and strolled to the window.
The flood of light that poured in when he drew the
curtain was qiute startling, making the three beaked
oil lamps look smoky and dim.
* I shall smoke my last cigar al fresco ,' Charley said;
' I suppose it's the correct thing to do, with such a
moon as that. Won't you come, Guy ? I must not
tempt you out into the night air, Hammond.'
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 323
' Not to-night/ Livingstone answered. * I am not
in the humour for admiring anything. I should bo
rather in your way.'
One of his gloomy fits was coming over him, at
which times he always chose to be alone.
* Well, I shall go and consume the " humble, but
not wholly heart-broken weed of every- day life," as
Tyrrel used to say — (Don't you remember his double-
barrelled adjectives ?) If you hear any one singing
very sweetl}^ don't be alarmed ; you'll know it's the
harmless lunatic who now addresses you; the fit
won't last more than an hour. We shall be in Rome
to-morrow. The only thing on my mind now is,
whether I shall find anything there to carry me
across the Campagna. K has a very fair pack,
I understand, and no end of foxes.'
Have you ever watched the completion of a photo-
graph, when the nitrate of silver (or whatever the last
lotion may be) is applied ? First, one feature comes
out, that you may indulgently mistake for a tree or a
gable- end, or a mountain- top ; then another, till the
whole picture stands out in clear brilliant relief.
Just so, when I recall that scene — little heed as I
took at the time of them — every gesture, and look, and
tone of Forrester's becomes as distinct as if he stood in
the body, before me now. I can see him standing in
the shadow of the doorway, the red glare from the
324 GUY LIVINGSTONE,
blazing wood with whicli he was lighting his cigar
falling over his delicate features and bright chestnut
hair — I can hear his kind soft voice as he speaks these
last two words — ' Al rivederci.*
Whether that wish will be accomplished hereafter,
God alone can tell: if so, it must be beyond the
grave. In life we never saw him any more.
325
CHAPTER XXXIII.
But time at length makes all things even.
And if we do but bide the hour,
There never yet ^Yas human power
That could evade, if unforgiven,
The patient search and vigil long
Of him who treasures up a wrong.
Three-quautehs of an hour later, Guy was sitting in
his room, gazing at the embers on the hearth, in the
attitude of moody thought, that of late he was apt to
fall into. Suddenly there came a timid knock at his
door. "When he opened it, his cousin stood on the
threshold — ghost-like, against the background of
darkness, with her white dressing-gown, pale cheeks,
and long hair unbound.
* Guy, don't be angry,' she said; * it's very foolish of
me, I know; but Charley has not come in yet, and, just
now, I am certain there was a shot quite near. Agliie
heard nothing, but I did. You know he always carries
a pistol. I made him do so. It is nothing, I am sure ;
but I am so frightened. If you would '
She tried to smile ; but that ghastly look of terror
that he had seen once before, long ago, in the library
326 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
at Kcrtou Manor, again swept over, and possessed all
her face, like a white chill mist.
* Don't be absurd, you silly child,' Guy said, kindly.
* Of course I'll go out directly, and bring him in in five
minutes, to laugh at you. Now go back to your room;
there's nothing on earth to be alarmed about.'
But the instant she had gone, I heard his voice quick
and stern, * Frank, come here.* There was a door of
communication between our rooms, and, though it was
closed, I had caught some words of this conversation, so
I was ready nearly as soon as he. Guy only stayed to
take a short lance- wood club, headed vath a spiked steel
head, which was his constant travelling companion — a
very simple weapon, but deadly in his hands as the axe
of R-ichard the King — and then we sallied out, taking
our servants and some other men that wxre below, with
torches, in case the moon sliould fail us unexpectedly.
Twice, three times, when we had gone a short dis-
tance, Livingstone shouted Forrester's name, llis
powerful voice rang far through the ravines, and
struck against the rocks, rolling and reverberating in
their hollows, like a blast fired in a deep mine ; but
no answer came.
I looked at my companion very nervously ; he never
spoke, but I saw him gnaw his under-lip till the blood
ran down.
We had gone a hundred paces or so further along a
narrow path outside the town. On our right the cliff
GtJT LIVING STONt!. 32?
fell almost abruptly towards tlie river. Guy was a few
paces in front ; when suddenly there broke from his
lips such a sound as I have never heard from those of
any mortal before or since.
It is impossible to describe it. It was utterly invol-
untary, as if some spirit had spoken within the man — a
cry of horror and of unspeakable wrath, such as might
have burst from the chestof oneof the old-world giants,
when the rock fell from heaven that crushed him like a
worm. The Italians, used to every tone that can ex-
press passion, shrunk and cowered back in terror.
Our ej^es all followed the direction of his, that were
staring down upon a flat open space, clear from brush-
wood, down in the hollow on our right. Our search
was ended, and we knew it. The moon that flickered
and quivered elsewhere through bough and brake,
settled there steadily on a single white spot.
In all the world there is but one object on which She
can cast so ghastly a reflection — a dead man's face.
Guy recovered himself first, and plunged recklessly
down the cliif side ; when we reached him, he was
supporting on his knee the head of poor Charley
Forrester, stone-dead, and foully murdered.
The first glance told how unavailing all human aid
must be. One small deep wound just above the left
temple must have been fatal instantly. Close by his
side lay the instrument of the slaughter — a thin, tri-
angular piece of granite — and, ten paces off — his pistol.
328 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
one barrel discharged. Ilis watcli and (as we after-
wards found) his purse were gone ; but an emerald
ring of great value was still untouched on his finger.
I staggered back, heart-sick and faint. "WTien I re-
covered, I saw dimly the group of men awe-stricken
and whispering, and Guy still gazing down at the face
that rested on his knee, as if it fascinated his eyes. I
could not bear to look upon the piteous sight. All
through the bright hair the dark blood had soaked,
and a slow stream was stealing through it still ; the
fair features were all defaced and deformed with the
wrath and agony of the last mortal struggle. Yet I
do remember that, if any one definite expression still
lingered there, it was bitter contempt and scorn.
' In God's name, sir, what is to be done ? ' It was
Hardy who spoke, poor Forrester's own servant, the
only Englishman among our attendants. He was
choking, and could hardly gasp out the words.
Livingstone rose slowly, first pilloTNing the mangled
head on a soft tuft of moss, tcnderl}^ as if it were con-
scious stiU. His nature was such, that no shock, or
pain, or sorrow to which humanity is liable, could bend
or quell it, so as to deprive him, beyond a brief instant,
of self-possession and calmness. It was not inscnsi-
biKty now, and hardly stoicism, but an elasticity of
resistance and strength of endurance that, in my own
knowledge, have never been matched. In history, or
in Indian life, you might find many parallels.
GtlT LIVINGSTONE. 329
He answered quite steadily, though in a low tone,
as if reverencing the presence of the dead.
' There is no hope ! It is useless to send for a sur-
geon. Hard J, you will take all the men whom you can
collect, and scour the country. Send to the shirri im-
mediately, they will go with you. There must be
traces of the murderer. Frank, will you see that — ^he
— is brought carefully to the house ? I will ' — ^he
stopped, and drew a long, hard breath — ' I will go and
break it to Isabel.* His hand, that happened to touch
mine as he spoke, was damp and icy cold.
In his life, Guy Livingstone had done and dared
more than most men ; but he never ventured on any-
thing so thoroughly brave, and vaKant, and strong-
hearted as when he left me, without another word, on
that errand. For myself, though weak both in body
and nerve, I swear I would rather have gone up the
breach at Badajoz with the forlorn hope, than up that
bank, with the certainty before me of what awaited him.
Trees overhanging, and high walls on either side,
and the change from the bright moonlight, made it so
dark just as you approached the Inn, that Guy scarcely
saw a white figure crouching down a few paces from
the door, till he was close upon it.
He threw his artn round Isabel Forrester's waist
before she could pass him. Half his task was done ;
there was nothing to break to her now. She under-
stood all when she saw him come back alone.
3(i0 GUY LIVIS^G STONE.
For a few moments there they stood in tlie dark, no
\\ord passing between them ; the only sound washer
quick panting, as she struggled in his grasp, battling
to get free.
'Isabel/ he said, at last, gravely, *come in ; I must
speak to you/
Ko answer still, but the same desperate struggle to
get loose. There was a savage, supernatural power in
her writhings that taxed even his gigantic strength to
hold her ; as it was, he j^ielded unconsciously to her
impulse so as to recede some paces, till they issued
out into the moonlight. He could scarcely recognize
her features ; they were all working and contorted,
the lips especially horribly drawn back and tense.
She bent her head down at last, and made her teeth
meet in the arm that detained her.
Guy never flinched or stirred, but spoke again in
the same slow, deliberate tone.
' Isabel, come in. I swear that joii shall see him
when it is safe. They are bringing him back now.'
She ceased struggling, and stood straight up, shak-
ing all over, straining her ej^es forward to the turning
in the path where the torches began to gleam.
' Is he not dead, then ? ' she said, in a strange,
harsh voice, utterly unlike her own. Her cousin did
not try to delude her ; all the stem outline of his face
softening in an intense pity told her enough.
Such a scream — weird, long drawn out, and un*
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 331
eartMy, such as we fancy the Banshee's — as that which
pierced through my very marrow (thougli I stood
three hundred yards away), as if it had been uttered
close at my ear, I trust I shall never hear again.
Then followed the contrast of a great stillness ; for,
as the last accents died away on her lips, Isabel sank
down, without a struggle, into a dead swoon.
A sad satisfaction came into Guy's face. 'It is best
so,' he muttered; 'I hope she won't wake for an hour,'
and he carried her into the house. They were trying
to revive her, unsuccessfully, when I reached it with
those who bore the corpse on a litter of pine-branches.
By Guy's directions it was laid on his oa^ti bed ; and
there the Italian women rendered the last offices to the
dead man, weeping and wailing over him, as though he
had been a brother or dear friend — only for his rare
beauty — even as the Moorish girls mourned over that
fair-faced Christian knight, whom they found lying,
rolled in blood, by the brook of Alpujarro.
Soon they came to tell Guy that Isabel was recover-
ing from her swoon. She was hardly conscious when
he entered the room, and he heard her moaning — ' I
am so cold, so cold,' shivering all over, though she
was warmly wrapped in cloaks and shawls.
The village doctor, a mild, helpless-looking man, was
sitting by her bedside ; he tried to feel her pulse just
then, I suppose to show that he could be of some use;
but she shrunk away from him^ and beckoned to her
332 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
cousin to come near. lie motioned to the others to
leave them alone, and, kneeling down by her, took her
hand in his.
*Giiy, dear,' she said, ' I know I have been so very
wicked and ungrateful to you ; but you must not be
angry. I have no one left to take care of me but you,
now. I will try to be patient ; indeed, indeed I will.'
Iler voice was faint and exhausted, but as gentle as
ever.
lie held her hand faster, and bent his forehead
down upon it.
* You are not wicked — only too weak to bear your
sorrow. If I only knew what to do to comfort you !
But I am so rough and harsh, even when I mean to be
kind. I can say nothing, either. I suppose you ought
to submit, but I cannot teU you how ; it is a lesson I
have never been able to learn.*
* You can do this,' she said. ^Let me go to him.
Ah ! don't refuse. I will be calm and good ; indeed, I
will. But I must go,' — she sank her voice into a lower
whisper yet — * I have not kissed him to-night.'
There was something so unspeakabl}' piteous in her
tone and in her imploring eyes that had grown quite
soft again, though no tears had moistened them, that
Guy could hardly answer her.
' I did not mean to refuse you, dear,' he said, at
last. *I won't even ask you to wait. If 3'ou are not
strong enough to walk I will carry you.'
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 333
She rose slowly and painfully, as if her limbs were
stiff with cold, but she could stand, and walk with his
arm round her ; and so these two moved slowly along
the deserted passages towards the room where the
corpse lay.
There was nothing shocking in its appearance now.
All the traces of murder had been washed away, and
they had arranged the silky chestnut hair till it con-
cealed the wound, and fell in smooth waves over the
white forehead. That sweet calm which will sometimes
descend on the face of the dead, even when their end
has been violent — the sad Alpen-gluth that comes only
when the sun has set — was there in all its beauty. Save
that the features were somewhat sharper than in life,
there was nothing to mar their pure classical outline.
It was well, indeed, that Guy held her back two hours
ago. If Isabel had looked on them then, I believe she
woidd have gone mad with terror if not with sorrow.
It matters much, the expression of a face, when it is
sure to mingle in our dreams for many after years.
Guy led her up to the bedside, and left the room as
she sank down on her knees. He remained outside
the closed door, for he thought she might need help if
her strength failed suddenly; and I joined him there.
For some time we heard only the quick stormy sobs,
and the kisses showering down ; then came the piteous
heart-broken wail that called upon her husband's
name; and then, the great gush of tears that saved her.
o34 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
After that tlierc was a murmur, often broken off but
always renewed : we both bowed our beads reverently,
for we knew tbe widow was praying.
She came fortb at length, her head buried in her
hands ; but she could walk to her room unassisted, and
allowed them to undress her there, without a word
but thanks. Lefore long Nature would have her way,
and she was sleeping quietly.
AVhilc we were waiting the return of the men who
had gone out in pursuit, Livingstone went alone into
the death-chamber. He stayed there some minutes;
when he came out his face was paler than ever, and
there was a sort of horror in his eyes.
He took my arm and led me into the room, without
spealdng. * Do you see that ? ' he asked, lifting the
hail*, gentl}^, that fell over the left cheek of the corpse.
Distinctly and lividly marked on the waxen flesh
were the five fingers of a man's ojwn hand.
* Do you think that was a brigand's work?' he went
on, his gripe tiglitening till I could scarcely bear the
pain. 'They always strike vrith a weapon or with
the clenched fist. Shall I tell you wlioso mark that
is ? — Bruce's. If he did not murder him himself, he
struck him after he was dead.*
' Impossible,' I said ; * how could he ? — He has
never '
Livingstone cast my arm loose somewhat im-
patiently. * We shall know all some day,' he growled,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 335
his whole face black with passion. I am convinced
of it. If he's on earth I'll find him ; and when I do,
if I show him mercy or let him go ' The impre-
cation that followed was not less solemn and terrible
because it was muttered to his own heart.
* We must never let Isabel guess the truth/ he said,
when he became calmer. * It would be worse than all.
She would always think she had caused this ; and she
has enough to bear up against abeady, God help her ! '
Soon Agliie came to tell us that her mistress was
asleep. The Frenchwoman's first impulse had been to
be hysterical and helpless ; it was only her terror of
Guy prevailing over all others that made her, as she
was — very useful.
He went to the door for an instant, and looked at
Isabel. Dreamland was kinder and pleasanter to her
than real life, poor child ! for there was a smile on her
lips that, when she was waking, would be long in visit-
ing them. How would ships or men ever last out, if
there were not some harbours of refuge to rest in before
going out into the wild weather again ? Truly she
had won hers for the moment : it looked as if an angel
had come down to smooth, this time, instead of troub •
ling the waters.
The pursuers came back empty-handed ; they had
not come upon the faintest trace, nor could they hear
of any suspicious character having been seen in the
neighbourhood.
333 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
Guy betrayed no impatience when he heard this ;
but he went out himself with some of the best men, and
spent the rest of the night and all the following morn-
ing on the quest. All to no purpose. He returned
about noon, with his companions quite fagged out; but
iiitigue and sleeplessness seemed to have no grasp upon
his frame.
Isabel was up, and had been asking for him several
times. When he saw her, she offered no opposition to
his wish to go on straight to Bome the next day.
Neither then nor at any future time did she ever ask
for any particulars of her husband's death.
Her old child-like dependence and trust in her cousin
had come back, and all through the journey she was
quite tranquil. It is true, we hardly ever saw her face,
for her veil was closely drawn. Her grief was not the
less painful to witness because it was so little demon-
strative. Yery old and very young women, in the
plenitude of their benevolence, are good enough to
sympathize with an}^ tale of woe, however absurdly ex-
aggerated ; but men, I think, are most moved by the
simple and quiet sorrows. 'SVe smile at the critical
point of a spasmodic tragedj^, complacently as the
Lucretian philosopher looking down from the cliff on
the wild sea ; we ya^vn over the wailings of Werter and
Haphael; but we ponder gravely over the last chapters
of the Heir ofEeddyffe; and feel a curious sensation in
the throat — perhaps the slightest dimness of vision —
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 337
when we read in The NewcomeSy how that noble old
soldier crowned the chivalry of a stainless life, dying
in the Grey Brother's gown.
There were many at Eome who had known For-
rester and loved him well, and all these followed him
to his grave. I do not think he had an enemy on
earth except the man who slew him.
What are the qualifications of a General Favourite?
Good looks, good birth, good humour, and good as-
surance, Tvall do much; but the want of one or more of
these will not invalidate the election, nor the union of
all four insure it. It must be very pleasant to serve
in the compagnie d^elite. They have privileges to
which the Line may not aspire. It does not much
matter what thoy do. Their victories make them no
enemies, and their defeats raise them up hosts of sym-
pathizers and apologists. When they err gravely, if
you hint at the misdemeanor, a * true believer ' looks
at you indignantly, not to say contemptuously, and
says — ^ What could you expect ? It^s only poor .^
Yes, it is a great gift — Amiability ; and when the pos-
sessor dies, it is profoundly true that better men might
be better spared.
Yery soon, HajTuond came to take his daughter back
to England. That calm old calculating machine was
more deranged and shocked by the catastrophe than I
should have thought it possible he would have been by
any earthly disaster. lie was getting older now, and
338 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
more broken, it is true ; and so, perhaps, was more
accessible to the weakness of sympathy. At all events,
nothing could be kinder and more considerate than his
conduct to Isabel.
Guy and I still lingered on in E-ome. lie was un-
tiring in his researches, but quite unsuccessful. Yet
it was not that the police were remiss, or the country-
people inclined to shield the murderer. The best of
them would have sold his own father to the guillotine
for half the reward offered by Livingstone ; for he
lavished as much gold in trying to clear up that crime,
as in old da3's the Cenci or Colonna did to smother
theirs. At length we were forced to give it up, and
returned home in the Petrel. I own I despaired of ever
being more successful ; but my companion evidently
had not done so ; for I heard him, more than once,
mutter to himself, in the same low determined tone,
*If he is on earth, I'll find him.'
Immediately on our arrival, Guy went up to Bruce's
home in Scotland. He only learnt that the latter had
not been there for a long time ; but that some months
back, Allan Macbane, a sort of steward and old de-
pendent of the family, had left suddenly, summoned,
it was supposed, b}^ his master. More the people
could not or would not tell.
At his bankers' it was discovered that, immediately
after the Forresters' marriage, he had drawn out a very
large sum — not in letters of credit, but in bank-notes —
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 339
and had not been heard of since. After much trouble
we did find out that one of the large notes had been
changed at Florence, about the time of the murder ;
but the description of the person did not answer in tho
least to that of Bruce or the man who was supposed
to be his attendant. All trace stopped there. So the
months rolled away. I constantly saw Guy, and
sometimes was with him both in town and at Kerton,
where Isabel was staying with Lady Catherine. He
still appeared to have no doubt of the ultimate result
of the search, which, personally or by deputy, he never
intermitted for a day.
840
CHAPTER XXXIV.
lie threw
His -wrathful hand aloft, and cried Away.
Earth could not hold lis both, nor can one heaven
Contain my deadliest enemy and me.
AVe were sitting in Livingstone's chambers one night
in the following March, and dinner was just over,
when the Detective was announced, who, for months,
had been in Guy's pay and on Bruce's track.
He was a stout, hale man, rather past middle age,
with a rosy face, a cheerful moist eye, and full sensual
lips ; just the proper person to return thanks for 'The
Successful Candidates' at an agricultural meeting.
Originally of a kindly convivial nature, he had grown
familiar with crime till he despised it. The reward set
upon the criminal's capture was his only standard of
guilt. He took a real pleasure in the chase, I imagine ;
but had no preference for any game in particuLir, and
was quite indifferent whether the cover he had to draw
was a saloon or a cellar. He would hunt a fraudulent
bankrupt or a parricide with equal zeal, and, when he
had caught him, be just as jocularly affable with the
OL'Y LIVINGSTONE. 341
one as with, tlie other. In a drama of life and death,
the fierce passions of the actors were only so many
gleams of light showing him where the right path lay,
for which assistance he thanked them heartily. The
foulest mysteries of the sinful himian heart touched
and shocked him no more than the evidences of disease
do the dissecting surgeon : with both it was a simple
question of defective organization. The possession of
secrets, far less weighty than some that he never told,
have made men look worn, and miserable, and grey ;
but he would pat his corpulent leather pocket-book
with a self-sufficient satisfaction, scarcely hinting that
the pubKcation of its contents would have caused
more devastation in some well-regulated families
than the bursting of a ten-inch shell in their front
drawing-room.
His lips and eyes wore a smile pleasantly signifi-
cant, as he entered ; and, before he could speak, Guy
leapt up, wa^dng his hand high in irrepressible tri-
umph. * I told you so, Frank. I knew we should
find him. Come — come quickly.' He was more ex-
cited than I had seen him in the last dozen years.
I exulted too ; but I confess a certain repugnance
and nervousness mingled with, that feeling : it was a
new thing to me, to stand face to face with a murderer.
Neither of us gave as much, attention as it deserved
to the narrative with which the officer favoured us en
route J of how lie had been gradually getting the clue to
312 GVY LIVINGSTONE.
thefugitivc's many doublings and disguises tillhecarae
upon his retreat at last. ' They mostly make for home
when they're dead-beat/ he remarked, alluding to
B ruce's having selected London as his final hidin g-placc.
AYe soon reached the spot, one of those dreary by-
ways that trend westward out of the Waterloo Road.
As we drew up, the outline of a figure revealed itself
out of the darkest nook of the dim street, and a man
came forward and opened the door of a cab, inter-
changing a word or two with our companion.
As we got out, the Detective laid his hand on
Guy's arm. * Grentl}^, sir,' he said. * You must be
careful. We've not quite so much proof as I could
wish. It would be straining a point to arrest him, as
it stands I'd do it though — -for you. Get him to talk,
and don't luuuy him ; he's safe to commit himself ;
and we'll nail him at the first word. M}^ comrade
says he has not left his bed since yesterday. Per-
haps he's ill. All the better. We can frigliten him,
if we get his man out of the way.
Guy's hand was on the bell before the last words
were said, and he rang it sharply. The two officers
drew back into the shadow.
In a few moments an old man opened the door,
whom we guessed to be Bruce's attendant. lie had
one of those stubborn rough-hewn faces that even
white hair cannot soften, any more than hoar-frost
can the outline of a granite crag.
GUY LIVINGSTONE.
343
*AVhat's ye'rc wull ?' he drawled out, in the rugged
Aberdeen Doric.
* I wish to see Mr. Bruce/
' No sic a pairson here/ was the reply, accompanied
by a vigorous elFort to close the door.
A heavy groan proceeding from a room on the
ground- floor gave him the lie as he spoke. Guy threw
up his head, like a hound breaking from scent to view,
and thrust Macbane back violently. The old man stag-
gered and fell; but he clung round Livingstonc^s knees,
as he grovelled, till he was actually trampled down.
There was a difficulty in the lock somewhere ; but bolt
and staple were torn away in an instant by the furious
hand that grasped the handle ; and so at last we stood
in the presence of the man we had sought so long.
Do you remember that hideous picture in Hogarth's
* Two Apprentices,' where the sleeping robber is alarmed
by the crash in the chimney? That was exactly Bruce's
attitude. lie had started into a sitting posture, and was
braced up on his hands — his face thrust forward, half
covered by the straight unkempt hair. What a face it
was ! White and flecked with sweat- drops, marbled
here and there with livid stains — the lips quivering and
working till they twisted themselves sometimes into a
ghastly mockery of a smile — the long teeth gleaming
more wolfish than ever. The iris of the prominent eyes
had grown yellowish, and the whites were bloodshot,
60 that the light seemed to flush from them iawnily.
344 GUT LIVINGSTONE.
Bruce had always been very mucli afraid of Living-
stone. His terror had gone on increasing during
months of relentless pursuit ; it had reached its cli-
max now. Guy stood at the foot of the bed, contem-
plating the unhappy wretch with a cruel calmness that
seemed to drive him wild. lie writhed and cowered
under the fixed gaze, as if it gave him physical pain.
* What are you here for ? ' lie screamed out at last.
In strong contrast to the shrill strained voice, the
answer came slow and stern. * To arrest Charles
Forrester's murderer.*
Then Bruce seemed to lose his head all at once, and
began to rave. It is impossible to transcribe the string
of protestations, prayers for mercy, and horrible blas-
phemies : but there was enough, of self-betrayal to
complete the proof we wanted ten times told. The
Detective chuckled more complacently than ever, as
he insinuated the handcuffs round Macbane's wrists.
Over all Bruce's cries, I remember, the old man's
harsh voice made itself heard — ' "VVhisht, whisht, I tell
ye, and keep a quiet tongue ; they canna harm ye.*
The other did not seem to hear him, or to notice his
removal by the officers — muttering, as he went, that
* we had driven his master mad, and were killing him.'
Livingstone waited patiently till the outbreak had
spent itself, then he said — ' Get up, and come with us
instantly. You shall finish your night in Xewgate.*
The sick man lay back for some moments with his
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 345
eyes closed, panting and evidently quite exhausted.
When he opened his eyes, there was a steadiness in
them which surprised us. He spoke, too, quite calmly.
* I do not mean to deny anything, nor to resist, even if
I could. I am tired of running away. It is as well
over: but I was taken by surprise at first. Guy
Livingstone, do you choose to listen to me for five
minutes ? My head is clear now. I do not know how
long that will last ; but I do know that, after to-night,
I wiU never speak about Forrester's death one word.'
* Will you tell me how you killed him?' Livingstone
asked, controlling his voice wonderfully.
* That is what I wish to do,' Bruce said. I believe
he was glad of the opportunity of showing us how much
we had misjudged him in thinking him harmless ; for
a curious sort of grin was hovering about his mouth.
Guy, whose eyes were bent down at the moment, did
not see it, or the tale would never have been told.
'You know how you were all against me at Kerton,'
he began. * She did not care for me then, perhaps ; but
I would have been so patient and persevering, that
she must have loved me at last — only you never gave
me fair play. Ah, do you think, because I was ugly
and awkward, I had no chance ? '
' No — but because she knew you were a coward/
Guy said.
There was something grand in the utter indifier-
ence with which Bruce met the insult.
346 GtY LI^^NGStOj^l5.
' You aro wrong,' lie replied, coolly, ' she did not
know it. You all did, and reckoned on my being long-
suffering and inoffensive. I saw, at last, what Forrester
had done ; yet I never guessed but that she would
marry me. I trusted to her father and her own fears
for keeping her straight. After marriage, I would
have tried still, what great love and tenderness could
do. I meant — never mind what I meant. It's all
over now. I was nearly mad for a week after their
flight. Then I became quite cool, and I said — " I will
kill him myself." And so I did. Mind, I swear,
Allan knew nothing of it till all was done. I thought
I should be brave enough for that. Fifty times
during the months that I tracked them, always
changing my disguise, I nearly caught him alone ;
but each time I was balked. Wherever they went, I
watched under their windows for the chance of his
coming out ; but I only saw .*
lie gnashed his teeth, and rolled over and over in
a paroxysm of jealous recollection. We guessed what
he meant. Then he went on — * That night, he saunt-
ered backwards and forwards for some time. I thought
he would not go far enough away, and I called to the
Devil to help me. lie did ; for, very soon, Forrester
walked straight down the path. I crept after him till
he had gone some hundred j-ards — my heart was beat-
ing so quickly that I could hardly breathe — then I
ran forward and stood before him. I had taken off
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 347
the black wig and beard that I always wore, and he
knew me directly.
* *' Mr Bruce, I believe ? '* he said, raising his hat,
just as if he had met me by appointment.
*"Yes,^' I said. "I have got you at last, as I
wished.^' I tried to speak as steadily as he had done ;
but, as the moment for action came near, my d d
cowardice made me stammer.
f * " I am not invisible, as a rule," he replied. " You,
or any friend of yours, might have found me long ago.
You have been some time making up your mind. It's
that imfortunate constitutional — caution, I suppose.
Well, I'll meet you in Eome : it's more than you
deserve.'*
' " You'll fight me here — now," I said.
'"I shall do nothing half so melodramatic," he
answered. "I'll give you a fair chance on the
ground ; but if you don't move out of my path now,
I'll shoot you as I would any other disagreeable
ruffian," and he put his hand into his breast, where I
knew he carried a pistol.
* I was brave then. I sprang in upon him all at
once. " You may shoot now, if you like," I said. *'I
swear I am quite unarmed. But show that to your
wife when you go back," and I struck him with my
open hand.'
(I remembered the mark on the corpse's cheek, and
looked at G uy eagerly. I could not see his face^, which
348 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
was hidden by the curtain, but all his lower limbs
were shaking and quivering.)
* I thought how it would be/ Bruce went on ; * he
drew his hand out with the pistol in it, but he only
flung it over the bank — one barrel went off in the fall,
then we grappled. After wrestling for a minute or two
on the narrow path, we lost our footing and rolled
down the rocks ; neither quitted his hold, but I fell
uppermost and kept him do-s^Ti. He struggled des-
perately at first; but when he found I was much the
stronger, he lay quite still, looking up into my face.
I said, " It's my turn at last. Do you think I'll let
you off?"
* lie did not answer at first. I believe he would not
tiU he had quite recovered his breath ; then he said,
coolly, " No, I don't. Finish it quicldy, if you can,
that's all.'' I would have delayed a little, to enjoy my
triumph, but I thought the pistol-shot might bring
some one ; so I tightened my grip on his throat, and
looked roimd for a weapon. I found none at first, and
my purpose actually began to soften when I saw him
so lielpless ; but, as I relaxed my fingers, I heard him
whisper to himself, ^' Poor Bella — we have been very
happy — I wish we had had more time — " I got mad
again dii-ectly. " D— n you ! " I cried out, ** I'll kill
you now, and marry her some day." His old insolent
smile came on his lip. "No, you wont," he said ;
"you don't know how she hates you, and how we have
GUY I-IVIXGSTONE. 349
laughed — ** he had no time to say more, for I fomid
my weapon then — a stone, triangular and sharp-
pointed, like a dagger — and I struck him over the
temple with all my force. He gave one convulsive
spring that threw me clear of him ; and never stirred
again.
' I did not repent when it was done ; I have never
repented since ; I do not now. I only thought how
best to escape the consequences. I took his watch
and purse that brigands might be suspected, and
threw them into the river a mile off. I robbed him
of one thing more — this ! ' All his haggard face was
transfigured with a ghastly triumph as he opened a
small leathern case that hung round his neck, and
held up before us two locks of hair.
There they were — the love-gift and the death-spoil
— the memorials of defeat and of victory, of foiled
affection and of gratified hate — the one, beguiled from
Isabel by Bruce himself, with many earnest pleadings,
in the early days of their engagement ; the other,
torn from her husband's temples before they were cold.
The long light -brown tress was scarcely more soft
and satin-smooth than the chestnut curl ; but one end
of the last was matted, and discoloured by a dark
rusty stain — the stain that, the Greek poet said, all
the rivers of earth flowing in one channel could never
wash away — the testimony, to our ears mute enough
now, but which perhaps Tvdll make itself heard above
350 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
the Babel of all other cries, at the Day of Judgrnent.
The two tokens were twined together lovingly, as
if they were sensitive and conscious still. Bruce
plucked them asunder — 'I never can keep them
apart,' he said, querulously. Then he put them back
into the case separately, and began to mutter to him-
self many words that I could not distinguish.
' Ilavo you anything more to say ? ' Livingstone
asked. His lips were rigid and compressed like a
steel-trap, opening and closing mechanically. As he
spoke, he snatched the leathern bag from Bruce'*
hand and threw it into the fire.
A sharp howl, like a flogged hound's, broke from
tlie sick man as he saw his treasure shrivel up in the
flame. Then he began to whimper out all sorts of
incoherent supplications ; crj'ing, ' that we did not
know how much he had suffered before he killed
Forrester, and since, too ; that he had been cruelly
used from the beginning ; that he was very, very ill,
now ; would not we let him die in peace ? ' The tears
were streaming down his face. It was a sight of
abasement that sent a shiver through one's veins.
Guy laid his hand on tlie miserable creature's
shoulder. Though he scarcely touched it, I saw the
great muscles starting out on his arm like ropes from
the intensity of his supprcvocd emotion ; his lower
lip trembled, but his tones did not in the least. I
can give no idea of their pitiless, deliberate ferocity>
GUI' ijvingsto.se. 351
* Listen/ he said. * I told you before to get up,
and come with us — that is my answer now. If you
have life enough left to be carried to the gallows-foot,
you shall never cheat the hangman.*
Bruce looked up into the speaker's face for some
moments. Gradually the agonized appeal in his wild
eyes died away into vacancy; an expression, half
cunning, half amused, stole over his face ; and, lean-
ing gently back, he began pulling threads out of the
coverlet, laughing low.
The blood gushed from Guy's clenched hand,, as he
struck it furiously against the stone mantel.
' By ' he said, with a fearful oath, ' he has
escaped me after all.'
It was so. The mind, worn and strained by the ter-
rors of the long pursuit, perhaps by remorse not ac-
knowledged even to himself, and by the last great
effort at self-control, had given way at last — for ever.
G od had recorded his verdict, and no earthly court
could try the criminal again. Bruce is living now
(and I dare say will outlive most of us, for his bodily
health is perfect), vicious sometimes, but never con-
scious ; hard to please, but easy to manage, so long
as his attendant is a man, and a strong one ; access-
ible only to the one emotion which drove him mad — •
physical fear.
Li\dngstone called the officers ; they came in with
^acbane. The 0I4 man pretended to be very wroth
352 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
when lie saw his master's state, but, I believe, he re-
joiced secretly. The credit of the family, with him,
outweighed all considerations of personal attachment,
and he would think public disgrace cheaply averted
at any price.
On our poor Detective, perhaps, the blow fell
heaviest ; for, after some time, Guy did come round
to my idea, that no punishment we could have brought
about would have been so ample and terrible ; but
Mr Fitchett could not see it in that light at all. Not
only was the termination of the affair dreadfully un-
professional, but the little triumph he had antici-
pated at the trial was spoiled. If human weakness
ever could touch this great man, it was when he heard
the judge pay a compliment to * the sagacity and zeal
of that most efficient officer.' On such occasions his
bow of conscious merit abnegating praise was, I am
told, wonderful to see. After a few words of explan-
ation, he glanced wistfully at Bruce, and shook his
head, like a broken-hearted Lord Burleigh. Then
he unloosed the handcuffs from Macbane's wrists ;
whistling all the while softly a popular air, lively in
itself, with a cadence so plaintive, that it might have
been a penitential psalm. No romantic school-girl
opening the cage to her pet starling, ever displayed
more hesitation and reluctance than Mr Fitchett,
setting that grim old bird free.
In truth there was no evidence to attach to the
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 353
servant, so wc left him and his master together. I
could not have stood that room much longer. The
ceaseless complacent chuckle of the idiot, and his fear-
ful grimaces when he could not make the threads
match, had the effect on my chest of a nightmare.
Very slowly and silently we walked home through
the darkness.
354
CHAPTER XXXV.
Be tlie day weary, or never so long,
At length it ringeth to even song.
There is little to clironicle in tlie events of the next
few years. Livingstone resided almost entirely at
Kerton. lie rode as liard, and distinguished himself
in all other field-sports as much as ever ; but even in
these, his favourite pursuits, he had lost the intense
faculty of enjoyment which once seemed a part of
his powerful organization.
Do you remember that scene in the NeKma, where
the Eidolon of Achilles comes slowly through the
twilight, to meet his old brother- in-arms? Not only are
liis form and features altered after so ghastly a fashion,
that even the wanderer, wave-worn and travel-stained,
Jooks brilliant by comparison ; but all his feelings are
utterly and strangely changed. Listen. lie asks after
the father from whom he parted when quite a child ;
after the son, whom he never saw ; but not one word of
his fair first love — not one of her who was the passion
of his manhood, whom he bucklered once against ten
t]]oiisai;d. IJe had rq,tlier hear of Peleus and Neopto-
GUY LIVINGSTOKE. 355
lemus, than of Deidamia or Brisois. Of Polyxena, bo
siire that he remembers nothing, but that he was hold-
ing her hand when her brother slew him. Will he
ever forgive her that ? Not if she could have made
amends by the sacrifice of ten lives, instead of that
one which she gave, willingly, on Sigacmn. Has am-
bition any hold on him either ? Only to breathe the
fresh clear air above instead of that murkj^, hea^^''
atmosphere, he would resign the empire of the Dead,
and be a drudge to the veriest boor. Yet once, if we
remember right, he chafed fiercely enough at a word
of authority uttered by the King of Men. One of his
old tastes clings to him still — a v^ry simple one.
He has forgotten the savour of Sciote and Chian wine ;
but — were it only for the sake of the carouses they
have had together — Odysseus will not grudge him
another draught out of the black trench ? It is so
long since he tasted blood !
Guy was no more like his former self than the
shadow was like the substance of Pelides. He was
not languid, but simply apathetic and indifierent ; so
that one could not help being constantly struck by
the contrast between his moral and physical state :
the latter was still the perfection of muscular power.
He was everything that was kind to his mother,
and to Isabel Forrester, too, who spent much of her
time at Kerton, and whose health was very delicate.
If Lady Catherine could only have seen him more
3§6 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
cheerful, she would have been too happy. It was her
great delight to try and spoil him, as she used to do
when he was a child ; trying to suit his tastes to the
minutest shade. For instance, Guy was always find-
ing in his own rooms some new ornament or addition
to their comfort. Indifierent as he was to everything,
it was good in him that he never failed to remark
these instantly. You would not have thought a cold
haughty face could light up so brilliantly as his
mother's always did when he thanked her. Poor
lady ! Those last few years were her Summer of St
Martin — not the less pleasant because winter was
gathering already on the crests of the whitening hills.
There were a good many guests in the house at
times, almost invariably men ; but none of the wild
revels of the old daj^s ; very little hard drinliing, and
no play, to speak of.
One thing was remarkable — the great eagerness
Guy displayed to keep the party together at night.
He would engage us in arguments, and employ all sorts
of ingenious devices to prevent us from going to bed ;
so that it became very trying to a weak constitution. I
observed this to him one night when the rest had gone.
The slight flush left by the excitement of convers-
ation was vanishing rapidly from his cheeks, and a
grey tinge was creeping over them like that which
we see on a sick man's, very near his end.
* It is too bad to keep you up, and too selfish/ ha
said ; ' but I find the nights so long I *
GtlY LIVlNGStONfi. 357
I left him without another word ; but I lay long
awake, haunted by that haggard face and dreary eyes.
I wish I did not see them so often, still, in my dreams.
There were changes in other houses besides Kcr-
ton Manor, and a vacancy in the most luxurious set
of chambers in the Albany.
Duns, and rheumatic gout, and satiet}'-, had proved
too much at last for the patience of Sir Henry Fallow-
field. So one night he preached his farewell sermon
in the smoking-room of the ; in which he was
especially severe and witty, on the absurdity and bad
taste of a'man condescending to suicide under any cir-
cumstances. The next morning they found him with
— 'that across his throat that you had scarcely cared
to see.^ The hand whose tremor used to make him so
savage when he was lifting a glass to his lips, had
been strong and steady enough when it shattered the
Golden Bowl and cut the Silver Cord asunder.
Whether he was looking death in the face while
he uttered those last cynicisms, and calculated on
heightening the stage effect of the morrow ; or
whether a paroxysm of pain drove him mad, as it has
done better men — who can tell ? I think and hope the
latter was the case, but — I doubt. Though Sir
Henry Fallowfield had never read Aristotle, he had
studied, all his life, the principles of the TreptVercta.
Godfrey Parndon no longer ruled over the Pytch-
ley. He had backed his own opinions and other
merits bills once or twice too often j and had retired,
358
GUY L1\LNGST0XE.
tcmporaril}', into private life, till he could ' get liis
second wind.^ The new M. F. II. was his complete
contrast — pale-faced, low- voiced, mild-eyed, and mel-
ancholy as a Lotus-Eater, one of the class of * weak-
minded but gentlemanly 3'oung men ' that Tom Crad-
dock used to ask his friends to recommend to him,
as pupils. The farmers missed sadly Godfrey's bluff
face and stalwart figure at the cover-side ; while the
* bruisers ' from Leamington, and the * railers ^ from
Town, hearing no longer his great voice, good-na-
turedly imperative, adjuring them to 'hold hard, and
not spoil their own sport,' — rode over the hounds,
rejoicing.
Flora Bellasys was married.
It was just the match I thought she would make.
Sir Marmaduke Dorrillon's possessions were vast
enough to satisfy any ambition, and his years put
love out of the question.
His friends had been as prophetic in their warnings
as Januarj^'s were ; but even they never guessed what
he would have to endure at the hands of that cruel
May. He tried very hard not to be jealous, but he
could not help being sensitive ; and so, day by da}',
she inflicted on him the peine forte ct dure, ' lajdng on
him as much as he could bear, and more.' It was sad
to see how the kind old man withered and pined away;
yet he never complained, and quarrelled mortally
with his best friend for daring to compassionate him,
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 359
He was so courteous, and gentle, and chivalrous ; so
conscious of his own disadvantage in age ; so generous
in trusting her, and in hoping against hope ; so con-
siderate in anticipating all her wishes and whims,
that it might have moved even Flora to pity. But
her great disappointment had strangely altered and
embittered her character. She was quite "merciless
now, and never seemed really amused unless she was
doing harm to some one.
It vv^as not that her manner had become harsh or
repellant, or even more sarcastic ; she was to the full
as fascinating as ever; but she was cool and calculating
in her caprices. She took pains to make the momen-
tary pleasure as exquisite as possible, that the after
suffering might be the more terrible ; just like that
ingenious Borderer who fed his enemy- with all pun-
gent and highly -seasoned dishes, and then left him to
die of thirst.
Yet, all the while, her own feelings must have been
scarcely enviable. They say that great enchantresses
from Medea and Circe downwards, have generally been
unhappy in their loves. Either they could not raise
the Spirit, or it proved unmanageable ; either their
affection was not returned, or its object was unfaith-
ful at last. In the single case, where they put their
science and their philtres aside, and were womanly,
and natural, and sincere ; where, to gain or to keep
their treasure, they woidd gladly have broken their
2a
360 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
wand, they failed utterly, and found they were only
half-omnipotent. The justice was retributive, but it
was very complete. Be sure, with those passionate
natures, the honey of a thousand triumphs never dead-
ened the sting of the one discomfiture. Suitors flock-
ing from every shore and island of the -<9Egean never
made Sappho forget, for one hour, that stubborn im-
passible Phaon. No wonder such are cruel and un-
just to their subjects in after days. Poor innocent
iEgeus very often has to do penance for the infidel-
ity of Jason.
I have little more to tell ; and that is of the sort
that is best told briefly.
The hounds met one morning, not far from Kerton.
A three-days* frost had broken up ; but it was not out
of the ground yet — ^making the 'take-ofi"' slippery, and
the north side of the fences dangerously hard. Living-
stone rode the Axeine that day. The chestnut was
still his favourite, and the crack himter of three coun-
ties, though he had never lost his habit of pulling.
It was a large, straggling cover that we drew ; but
the fox went awaj very^soon. From the lower end
of the wood a great pasture sloped down ; at the bot-
tom of which was a flight of post-and-rails — very
high, new, and strong, with a deep cutting on the
further side. At one end of this was an open gate,
through which the whole field passed.
The hounds were just settling to the scent, when I
happened to turn my head, and saw Livingstone
GUY LI\^NGSTONE. 361
coming down at the rails. He had got a bad start,
and saw that, by taking them straight in his line, he
would gain greatly on the pack, which was turning
towards him.
' As the Axeine tore down the hill at furious speed,
pulling double, it was evident that neither he nor his
rider had the remotest idea of refusing.
It was the last fence that either of them ever charged.
As the chestnut rose to the leap his hind legs slipped ;
he chested the rail,' which would not break, and
turned quite over, crushing Guy beneath him.
I hadseenthelatterfallahundred times, without feel-
ing the presentiment that seemed to tighten round my
heart, as I galloped up to the spot. Many others must
have felt the same ; for they let the hounds go away
without another glance, and some were before me there.
The Axeine lay stone dead, with his neck broken,
the huge carcass pressing on the legs of his rider.
Guy was quite senseless ; his face of a dull ghastly
white ; there was a deep cut on his forehead ; but we
all felt we did not see the worst. With great trouble
w^e drew him from under the dead horse. StiU we
coidd discover no broken bone, or further external
injury. We dashed water over him. In a few minutes
he opened his eyes, and seemed to recognize every one
directly ; for he looked up into the frightened face of
the first-whip, who w^as supporting him, and said —
*You always told me I went too fast at timber,
Jack.'
362 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
I was sure, then, lie was desperately injured. His
voice w^as so weak and changed.
'Where are you hurt, Guy?' some one asked. I
could not speak myself.
' I don't know/ he said, looking down in a strange,
bev/ildered way. ' My head and arm pain me ; but I
feel nothing helow the waist.'
His lower limbs were not much twisted or dis-
torted ; but they bore a horribly inert, dead appear-
ance. There was not even a muscular quiver in them.
I saw the Squire of Brainswick turn his head away,
with a shudder and a groan (he loved Guy as his own
son), and I heard him mutter — ' The sjnne ! *
It was so, and Livingstone soon knew it himself.
lie sighed once, drearily ; but not a man there could
have commanded his voice as he did, when he said —
* You must carry me home, heavy as I am. My
walking days are ended.'
We made the best litter we could of poles and
branches ; and, I remember, as we bore him past the
carcass of the Axeine, he made us stop for an instant,
and di'opping his hand on the stiff, distorted neck,
stroked it softly.
' Good-bye, old horse ! ' he said. ' It was no fault
of yours. IIow well 3^ou always carried me ! ' lie
never spoke again, till we reached Kerton Manor.
Isabel Forrester was, fortunately, out ; but Lady
Catherine met us on the hall-s(ops. She did not
GU^ LIVINGSTONE. 363
shriek or faint when she saw the horror, which had
haunted her for years, fulfilled there to the uttermost.
She knelt by her son when we laid him down, and
wiped off a spot or two of blood from his forehead,
and then kept his hand in hers, kissing it often. We
had sent on before to warn the village doctor, and he
visited Guy alone in his room.
Powell had been a surgeon's-mate in his youth, and
was serving under Collingwood at Trafalgar, when
his ship stood first into action, and, like a Sovereign
of the old days, led the van of the battle. There was
no shape of shattered and maimed humanity with
which he had not been familiar ; and my last hope
died away when I saw him come forth, trembling all
over, his rugged features convulsed with grief.
* I saw him born,' the old man sobbed out. * I
never thought to see him die — and die so ! '
Guy had received a mortal injury in the spine ;
though how long he might linger none could tell.
There broke from Lady Catherine's white lips one
terrible heart-broken cry — ' If God would only take
me first ! ' Then her self-control returned, and she
went into her son's room, outwardly quite calm.
I have never tried to fancy what passed at the
meeting of those two strong hearts, after the one had
been brought suddenly, face to face, with an awful
death ; the other, with a yet more awful sorrow.
364
CHAPTER XXXYI.
Ah, Sir Launcclot, there thou liest, that never wert matched of
earthly hands. Thou wert the fairest person, and the goodliest of any
that rode in the press of knights : thou wert the truest to thy sworn
brother of any that buckled on the spur ; and thou wert the faithful-
lest of any that have loved pay-amours : most courteous wert thou, and
gentle, of all that sate iu hall among dames ; and thou wert the sternest
knight to tliy mortal foe that ever laid spear in the rest.
"NYiiEN Powell's self-command gave waj^so completely,
after lie saw the nature of Guy's case, it was not be-
cause he knew it must end fatally, but because his
skill told him what fearful agonies must precede the
release. All the surgeons who were called in could
do nothing but confirm these forebodings. The colos-
sal strength and vital energy of Livingstone's frame
and constitution yielded but slowly to a blow which
would have crushed a weaker man instantly. All the
outworks were ruined and carried; but Death had
still to fight hard before he won the citadel. I cannot
go through the details ; I will only say that, some-
times, none of us could endure to look upon sufferings
which never drew a complaint or a moan from him.
Almost every Pleasure has been discussed and dis-
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 365
sected ; but we kiiow comparatively nothing of the
physiology of Pain. There is no standard by which
to measure it, even if the courage and endurance of
any mortal man could enable him to analyze his own
tortures philosophically. Was it not always supposed
that the guillotine is merciful, because quick in anni-
hilation ? Look at Wiertz's pictures at Brussels.
If his idea (shared, too, now by many clever sur-
geons) be true, jou will see the amount of a long
life's suffering exceeded by, what seems to us, a
minute^s agony. But it is lilie the Eastern King^s
gaining the experience of fifty years, by dipping his
head for a second in the magic water. For a soul in
torment there is no horologe.
Of one thing be sure ; the strong temperaments
who enjoy greatty, suffer greatly too — those who en-
dure in silence, most of all. I think the wolf's
death-pang is sharper than the hare's.
But Gu}^ was not only patient ; he was actually
more cheerful than I had seen him since Constance
died. He liked to see his old friends, and to hear
accounts of their sport with hound and gun. To do
these justice, there was not one who would not give
up, gladly, the best meet of the Pytchley, or the
shooting of the best cover in the county, to sit, for
half a day, in that sick room. He talked, too, always
pleasantly and kindly to his mother and his cousin.
Poor Isabel Forrester was quite broken down by this
866 GUY LIVINGSTON^.
second blow. Next to her dead husband, I belieye, she
loved Guy better than any one ; not unnaturally, for
he had petted and protected her all her life long.
She could not help giving way ; though she tried
hard, for the sake of others. It was piteous to see
her, sitting alone for hours, gazing out on the bleak
winter-landscape, while the tears welled slowly from
under her heavy eyelids.
Foster, who was still at Kerton, came often to visit
Livingstone. No one could do him so much good. The
curate was just as confident and uncompromising in
the discharge of his office, as he was yielding and
diffident when only himself was in question. He was
so honest, and straightforward, and true — so free
from rant or cant — so strong in his simple theology
— that Guy soon trusted him implicitly when he
spoke of the Past and of the Future that was so near.
The repentance that was begun by Constance's dying
bed, was completed, I am sure, on his own.
* Frank,' Guy said, one morning, suddenly, * I have
written to ask Cyril Brandon to come to me. He will
be here to-day. It would make me very happy if I
could hear him say, he forgave me.*
* Do you think you will succeed ? ' I asked, sadly ;
for I felt a nervous certainty that the pain the inter-
view must cost him would be unavailing.
' I cannot teU,' he answered, firmly ; * but Foster
says, and I know, that it is my duty to try. You may
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 307
oe present, if you like, on one condition — you must
promise, whatever lie may say or do, not to interfere
by a look or a word/
I did promise ; but I looked forward witb dread to
Brandon's coming. In an hour's time he was an-
nounced.
It was the first time I had seen him ; and I was
much struck by the mingled expression of suffering
and ferocity that sat, like a mask, on his worn dark
face. I have seen its like but once — in a dangerous
maniac's. He walked straight up to Guy's couch,
without noticing me, and stood there silent ; glaring
down on the sick man with his fiery black eyes.
* It is very good of you to come,^ Guy said ; ' I
scarcely hoped you would. I have wronged you more
deeply than any living man ; so deeply that I could
never have dared to ask jouv forgiveness if I had not
been very near my death. Can j^ou give me your
hand-? Indeed, indeed, I have repented sorel}^'
Brandon's hoarse tones broke in.
* I came, because, years ago — to see this sight, to see
you lying there, like a crushed worm — I would have
sold my soul. Wronged me ? Shall I tell you what
j^ou have done ? There was only one creature on earth
I cared for ; that was my sister. All those years in
India I had been fancying our meeting. I came back,
and found her dying: more than that, I found her love
turned away from me. You did all this. I tell you, I
368 GUY LIVINOSTONE.
never could get one of her old fond looks or words from
her all the time she was dying. She was only afraid of
me. By hell ! you stood between us to the last. Do
you know that she dragged herself across the room at
my knees — mine — who never refused to indulge her in
a whim before — first, to be allowed to see you, and
then to make me swear not to attempt your life!'
He stopped — gnashing his teeth.
All Guy^s features — wan and worn by pain — were
lighted up with atendernessand joy inexpressible, ashe
heard what his dead love had borne and done for him.
He would have hidden his face, had he guessed how its
expression would exasperate Cyril's furious temper.
* D — n you ! ' he howled out, like a madman. * Do
you dare to triumph ? ' and, tearing oiF his glove, he
struck Livingstone on the cheek with it, a sharp blow.
A great shudder swept through every fibre of the
maimed giant's frame, in which sensation lingered still;
the blood surged up to his forehead, and ebbed again
instantly, leaving even the lips deathly white ; he raised
his hand quickly, but it was only to wami me back, for
— mild and peaceable as I am — I leapt up then, as
savage as Cain. With that hand he caught Bran-
don's wrist. The latter stood with his eyes cast down
suUenl}^— already, I am sure, horror at the act of foul
cowardice into which his passion had driven him was
creeping over him — he did not try to disengage him-
self. Had he done so, thrice his strength would not
have set him iree.
(iUY Ln^NGSTONE. 3G0
*I tlianli God, fVom my heart/ Guy said, very
slowly and stead%, * that, if I meet your sister here-
after, I shall not shrink before her : for, I believe, all
I promised her has been kept. Listen — you would
feel shame to your life's end, thinking that you had
struck a helpless, dying cripple. It is not so. You
don't know what you risked. You were within arm's
length ; and at close quarters I could be dangerous
still. Look.'
He took up a small silver cup that lay near, and
crushed it flat between his fingers.
There was silence then : only Brandon's breath was
heard, drawn hard and irregularly, as if he was try-
ing to throw off a weight from his chest.
Guy looked up at him, and said very gently, hold-
ing out his hand, ' Once more, forgive me.'
Cyril answered in a thick smothered voice —
* I will not take your hand. I will never forgive
you. But I forgive Constance ; for — I understand
her now.
He turned on his heel, and left the room without
another word : still with his head bent down, as if in
thought. I gazed after him till the door shut softly.
Then I looked round at Guy. His head had fallen
back, and the features looked so drawn in and changed,
that I cried out, thinking he w^as dead. It was only
a long, long swoon.
Just another scene, and my talc is told.
370 GUY LIVINGSTONE.
I was reading in Guy's room one evening. He tad
not spoken for some time, and I fjincied lie was asleep.
Suddenly he called to me —
' Frank, come here — nearer. I have several things
to say to you, and I feel I must make haste. No —
don't call any one. I said farewell to my mother
yesterday, and we must spare her all we can.'
In the presence of that sublime self-command, I
dared not betray m}^ grief by any outward sign. I
knelt down by his side silentl3\
He went on in a voice that, though hollow and
often interrupted by failing breath, was perfectly
measured and steady
^ You can only be glad that the end has come at
last ; though it is well I have had time to prej)are
myself. Am I ready nov/ ? I cannot tell. Foster says
I ought to hope. I trust it is not wicked to say — I do
not fear. I have sinned often and deepl}^ ; but He
who will judge me created me ; and He knows how
strong the passions of my nature were. He knows,
too, how much I have suffered. I do not mean from
this (he threw his hand towards his crippled limbs
with the old gesture of disdain) ; but from bitterness
and loneliness of heart. More than all — I am sure
my darling has been pleading for me ever since she
died. I will not believe her prayers have been wasted.
* I want to tell you what I have done. You know
the direct line of my family ends with me. I am glad
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 6i i
it does. The next in succession would be a cousin, who
has taken to some trade in Edinburgh. A good man,
I believe — but he would not do here. So I have left
Kerton to my mother for her life, and then — to you.
Hush — the time is too short for objections or thanks ;
and death-bed gifts show little generosity. Besides,
I would have left it to Isabel, only it would be more
a trouble to her than anything else. You mil take
care of everything and everybody. Say farewell for
me to my old friends, especially to Mohun. Poor
Halph ; he will be sorry — though he will not own it —
when he comes back from Bohemia, and finds me gone.*
He raised himself a little, so as to rest his hand on
my shoulder, as I knelt, while his voice deepened in
its solemn calm.
* Dear Frank — one other word for yourself, who have
borne so patiently with my perverse temper since we
were boys together. I have been silent, but, indeed,
not ungrateful. For all your kind, imselfish thoughts,
and words, and deeds — for all the good you would
have counselled — for all j'our efforts to stand between
me and wrong-doing — tried friend, true comrade ! I
thank j^ou now, heartily, and I pray God to bless you
alwa3^s.'
It was only self-control, almost superhuman, that
enabled him to speak those words steadily, for the
fierce death-throe was possessing him before he ended.
Through the awful minutes that followed, not another
372 GUY LlA^NGSTONE.
sound tlian the hissi^jg breath escaped through his set
lips ; his face was not once-distorted, though the hair
and beard clung round it — matted and dank with the
sweat of agony. The brave heart and iron nerve ruled
the body to the last imperially — supreme over the
intensity of torture.
When he opened his eyes, which had been closed all
through the protracted death-pang, there was a look
of the ancient kindness in them, though they were
glazing fast. He found my hand, and grasped it, till
I felt the life ebbing back in his fingers. I saw his
lips syllable ' Good-bye ; * then he leant his head back
gently, and — without a sigh or a shiver — the strong
man's spirit went forth into The Night.
A sense of utter desolation — as it were a Horror of
great Darkness — gathered all around me, as I leant
my forehead against the corpse's cheek, sobbing like
a helpless child.
You will not care to hear how we all mourned him.
Will you care to hear that — often as his mother visits
his grave — there is owe woman who comes oftener still?
None of us have ever met her ; for she comes always
at late night, or early morning. But, finding in the
depth of winter, or in the bleak spring, the ground
about strewed with the choicest of exotic flowers — not
carefully arranged, but showered down by a reckless,
despergte hand — we know that Flora Dorrillon has
been there.
GUY LIVINGSTONE. 373
Do not laugli at licr too much, for clingmg to tlie
one romance of her artificial existence. Remember,
while he lived, there was nothing so rare and precious
— ay, even to the sacrifice of her own body and soul
— that she would not have laid, ungrudgingly, at
Guy Livingstone^s feet.
THE END.
PBISTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SOKS, LIMITED,
10NIK>» AXD BECCLES.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
BERKELEY
Return to desk from which borrowed.
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
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