Madelon Lemoine

Front matter

MADELON LEMOINE VOL. I MADELON LEMOINE 11 V MRS. LEITH ADAMS AUTHOR OF " WINSTOWE " &c, &c. " A mac lovcth more tendirly Thc tliyng that lie hath bought most dere." CHAUCER'S " ROMAUNT 0¥ THE ROSE." IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1879. Ml right* reserved TO 31 Y DEAR MOTHER IN- GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF THE LOVING INTEREST SHE HAS EVER TAKEN IN JIT LITERARY WORK. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. Chap Page. I. — Bassendale . . . . .1 II. — The Rival Doctors . . . .23 III. — The Bootless Errand oe G-ideon Blather-wick . ..... 39 IT. — Incomplete . . . . .64 V. — Lady Kirwen's Whim . . . .88 VI.— Is it Well ? . . . . .104 TIL — The Rector's " Word in Season" . . 125 Till.— A Bad Omen . . . . .137 IX. — Fulke Belasis ..... 162 X.— Molly . . . .185 XI. — All in the Sunshine .... 211 XII. — Peps has the " Tantyrums" . . . 232 XIII.—" Bella Madonna !" . . 251 XIT.— " If I Perish— I Perish !" . . . MADELON.

Chapter I. Bassendale

DESCRIPTIONS of scenery are very apt to be tiresome. We have not always patience to go through the process of forming in our " mind's eye" a picture of the scene in which a story is laid, but the beauty of the country town of Bassendale and its surroundings must plead my excuse for a little word-painting. The road that led to it was, perhaps, more picturesque than pleasant : for it wound in and out, and went up hill and down hill, as if it never knew its own mind for five minutes to gether. But then, when every unexpected turn brought some new beauties to light, who could VOL. I. B MADELON. be so ungrateful as to find fault with its way wardness ? This road was not marked out by hedges, but by stone walls on which the hand of time had pencilled exquisite tracery in moss and lichens, and of which every cranny and corner boasted of some tiny fern, or hardy plant.

Here and there the ivy had been determined to have things all its own way ; and not only stretched its green arms upwards to clasp the stones iu a close embrace, but, in the exuberance of its growth, had formed itself into great masses high above the tops of the walls, seeming to look with calm contempt upon the humbler brambles that were its neighbours. On either side of this road were hills and vales, their rocky sides dappled with patches of gorse, and purple vetch ; their summits crowned with miniature groves of larch and fir ; while now and again the landscape was varied and its colours deepened by a belt of yew trees, looklug almost black against the lighter back-ground of hills and sky. At length you crossed a rudely built bridge, beneath which the water trilled and tumbled like a miniature Giessbach, and then, far away, through a gap in the hills, you saw a long blue line.

BASSENDALE. 3 That line was the sea : still far off, yet near enough to give a brisk clearness to the air, and, at times, to add the soft low murmur of its voice to the sounds of nature all around. Once across the bridge, the road made a sud den dip and then a curve, and in a moment before your delighted eyes lay the country town of Bassendale. On the right, white cottages in groups clustered round the ivy mantled church, like a flock of sheep gathered about their shepherd : while on the left, more pretentious dwellings formed the centre of the town, and detached houses were scattered here and there at intervals among the undulating hills aud valleys. The shore was more than a mile distant from the town, and in parts dangerous, the beach shelving downwards to a wide expanse where lurked treacherous quicksands.

These, left ex posed at low tide, had their limits marked out by posts set at intervals each looking like a shaggy head, by reason of the seaweed that had attached itself to them from time to time. The Church, St. Cuthbert's-in-the-Dale, had an old fashioned square tower, whose bushes of ivy were rich in owls that hooted bravely on moonlight nights, and were supposed by the superstitious to foretell wrecks upon the treacherous coast. B MADELON. One would think these owls must have had a cultivated ear for music, for never sweeter bells rang out over land and sea than the bells of Bassendale Church ! Hard by was the Rectory ; a substantial house of red brick, fancifully picked out with black tiles ; many-gabled ; and with broad eaves under whose friendly shelter numerous families of swal lows found a comfortable home.

From the Rectory garden you could catch a glimpse in the far distance of the grey stone turrets of Farley Towers, the " great house" of the neighbourhood. One long narrow loop of a window seemed to watch like the eye of a Cyclops over the broad lands that had belonged for generations back to the Kirwen s of Farley, and tradition said that one Lady Barbara Kirwen had fired through that sinister looking loop-hole upon the enemies of the house of Stuart. To few of the north county families had the Royalist cause proved more disastrous than to the Kirwens of Farley, and in the year 1648 the young and gallant head of their house had fallen fighting under General Langdale for the rescue of the imprisoned King. But brighter days had dawned ; the horrors of civil war had passed away ; the Kirwens were no longer impoverished by upholding a noble, yet BASSENDALE. 5 unfortunate cause, and various wealthy alliances had refilled to overflowing the once flaccid family coffers.

They were good landowners too; not men who would live in luxury and ease themselves, while resting content that their tenantry should inhabit hovels hardly fit for pigs. Neither were they such men as would absent themselves year by year from their inherited possessions, and leave the toiling poor on their lands to be ground down by the exactions of an " unjust steward," or sum marily ejected from their homes, if sickness or a bad season made the rent somewhat behind hand. From father to son the responsibility of possession was sternly inculcated, together with a sense of the high duty which the ownership of lands and wealth entail upon a man. The same spirit which in a bye-gone day had counted neither life nor riches too dear to be laid at the feet of a deposed monarch, now led the owners of Farley Towers to be just to those dependent upon them, yet ever to temper justice with mercy.

As each heir grew from youth to manhood the traditions of his house surrounded him like an atmosphere, and he came to look upon the well being of his tenantry as a something for which he would be held answerable when the day came that he should reign in his father's stead. That MADELON. the dwellings of the poor should be healthy and kept in good repair ; that the cause of every man should be fairly looked into and his grievance fully considered, were among the tenets of the Kirwen creed ; and so it came about, that together with the rent of farm, or cottage, or land, the tenants ofthe Farley estate gave to the Lord ofthe Manor the precious dole of fealty and reverence. Each century that had passed over the venerable pile of Farley Towers had but added to its beauty. There was such dignity about the old place that you could well fancy stately dames in hoop and farthingale pacing to and fro along its terraces, or leaning on the lichen-dappled balus trades that edged the long walk.

Between the house and the extreme limit of the grounds was an alley where a belt of yews spread their dark branches overhead, and where, even in the hottest summer's day, the light was shaded and the air cool. This alley led into a larch wood. Yon passed through a wicket, and then the path made a sudden curve upwards, running alongside a cas tellated wall built on the summit of the cliff that ran steeply down to the sands. Standing by this wall you had a magnificent panoramic view of Combemore Bay and the richly wooded country that on all sides, save one, surrounded it. To the right, in the distance, lay Bassendale ; BASSENDALE. 7 to the left the coast swept abruptly round, and there, facing the open sea, a soft haze of smoke among the trees, told of the whereabouts of the fishing village of Little Bassendale, commonly called "the Cove."

It was composed of one steep ill-paved street running down to the shore, and various narrow ones branching off at right angles from the parent stem. The cottages gave you the impression of being marvellously diversified as to height and general conformity, and were many of them in a state of chronic ill-repair that spoke equally badly for landlord and tenant, and gave the houses very much the air of neglected, ill-kempt children. However, in favourable times the Cove did a brisk trade in finny and scaly merchandise, and spent the intermittent riches thus acquired pro digally and unwisely, never giving place to such a common-sense thought as making hay while the sun shone and laying by for a rainy day. It may be easily deduced from this state of matters, that Little Bassendale did not form a portion of the Farley estate.

Beyond the castellated wall that formed the furthermost boundary of Sir Ralph Kirwen's land, the bay was fordable at one particular spot, where the channel could be crossed at certain conditions of the tide. MADELON, Here, in order to insure the safety of tra vellers, a guide was always at hand from sun rise to sunset. Mounted on a sturdy cart-horse, whose huge sheep-skin saddle had a most picturesque appearance, this individual preceded the party, his steed looking as solemn and wise as himself. In case of sudden fog rolling up from the sea, the guide was provided with a horn, and the long wailing note of this lugubrious in strument coming from the innermost recesses of the mist and mingling with the splash of the horse's feet was weird in the extreme. Indeed, to the juvenile population of Bassendale big and Bassendale little, both guide and horn were sub jects of much awe-struck interest ; a feeling that was encouraged by the mothers of the said population from motives of policy ; indeed, it was hinted to the youthful Bassendalians in general that the Ford-way led to fearful and unknown regions.

As a matter of fact, it was simply a short cut to the opposite coast, and saved a long and tedious journey to those who were adventurous enough to brave its dangers. Hence the threat of being "sent over the Ford-way" was a terror to evil-doers of tender years ; while the posts that defined the quicksands went by the name of the " Sand-men," and were supposed to possess BASSENDALE. 9 mysterious and awful powers, though of what description no one seemed to know. Ghostly tales, too, were told of those unhappy ones who from time to time had perished on the Ford-way ; and it was said that on certain nights of the year cries for help were heard, and that more than once these wailing voices had deluded the guide into saddling his horse in haste, and at risk of life and limb, making his way through the " cruel, crawling foam," in search of those threatened by the rising tide.

But (so ran the story) never yet, on such occasions, had mortal traveller been found ; wheels had been heard rushing through the water, and the splash of hoofs, the guide's horse had reared and backed almost into the deep trench that lay on either side of the Ford-path, but nothing had ever been seen. Altogether the Ford-way, especially after night-fall, had a somewhat uncanny reputation. Still, a thing may be beautiful though uncanny ; and more than one artist had craved permission of Sir Ralph Kirwen to sketch the path across the sands as seen from the sea-wall in the larch wood. What, indeed, could be more weirdly picturesque than the precipitate shore, the golden sands below, and the glow of the level sun-rays MADELON. catching the figures of guide and horse, and turn ing into silver the ripples of the retreating tide through which they splashed.

I have said that the terraced walks of Farley Towers might well have been graced by stately dames in hoop and farthingale, but surely no " faire ladie" of a bye-gone time could have been more rich in dignity and grace than Margaret, Lady Kirwen, wife of the present owner of those fair lands ? Beautiful, with the exquisitely refined and chastened loveliness of silver-white hair, and delicately chiselled features ; her passionless blue eyes seemed to look from afar upon all the minor troubles of life. Had their owner lived in the terrible days of '93 they would have looked calmly and proudly at the heads man, and remained dry as her children were torn from her arms lest the oppressor might glory in seeing their light quenched in tears ! She lived her pure life as far removed from the little world of Bassendale, its gossip, and its petty strifes, as though she were some star in the depths of the quiet sky above ; yet it sorrow or sickness came to the poorest hovel in the fisher-village, it was no uncommon sight to see my Lady's carriage waiting at the nearest BASSENDALE. point attainable, and my Lady herself standing by the sick-bed, or offering comfort to the be reaved.

She was a woman absolutely without enemies ; and — as most people understand the word — equally without a friend. The rare guests who sojourned at Farley cared little more for their hostess on the last than on the first day of their stay, though they all agreed in calling her a lovely, gracious, and graceful woman. There was a story told among the simple fisher folk of the Cove, that one summer's da}', a ragged and unwashed urchin of tender years and diminutive size lost his wajr, and meeting the lady of the great house returning from a solitary ramble, grasped her dainty dress with his little dirty hand, and requested to be instantly taken " whoam to mother." The story went on to describe the feelings of the said mother on seeing these strange fellow travellers approach ; the little one still clinging to his guide's dress and staring at her so per sistently, instead of looking to his own footsteps, that every now and then he stumbled, and but for clinging closer to the silken robe she wore, would have tripped altogether.

That child became a hero among his fellows for many a day to come, being engirt with the MADELON. importance that successful impudence often com mands. Lady Kirwen was many years younger than her husband, and ceaselessly, yet coldly, watchful of his every wish. He was now in a most delicate state of health, aud by night and day required constant attention ; yet my Lady never wearied, nor was the gentleness that was so habitual to her ever ruffled. Years back in the past Lady Margaret Belasis, the daughter of a house impoverished by the evil doings of its chiefs, had loved well, but unwisely ; and, waking from a dream sweet as short, had realized that in her case, love and pride could not go hand in hand. After a struggle sharp and fierce, she cast aside love, and gave her hand but not her heart, to Sir Ralph Kirwen, of Farley Towers.

No more perfect mistress ever ruled that grand ancestral home ; but a part of the woman's nature had seemed to die on the day when she looked calmly and coldly into the dark eyes of her young lover, and passed him by. She was not one to falter in the path she had chosen : not one to put her hand to the plough, and look back ; she had elected of her own free will to trample love under foot, and she never even lingered on the sweetness of its memory, in all the years to come. BASSENDALE. 13 Sir Ralph, when he married Lady Margaret Belasis, loved her with a passionate fondness ; nay, he more than loved, he idolized her. Her coldness he looked upon as a sweet, womanly dignity, befitting one in her position ; her proud defiance he called a maidenly reserve. If in time he learnt the true name of these qualities which had seemed to him but part and parcel of her sweet perfection, the knowledge was locked in his own heart.

His love for her never varied, never changed ; only its expression was re strained ; and so these two, man and wife, lived what is called " very happily," but a shadow was for ever between them ; a shadow which the woman's hand might have chased away, had she so willed, aud let in a flood of sunshine upon the heart that loved her ; the heart that hun gered and thirsted for a tenderness which she never gave. Then came Basil, the golden-haired, blue-eyed boy, who proved to be the only child of the house, and whom the mother loved with a lavish tender ness bordering on idolatry. Yet so completely had the habit of a proud reserve grown to be a part of her nature, that the lad hardly knew how dear she held him. As a baby-boy — as a lad boisterously happy to come home from school, and as boisterously glad MADELON. to go back to the companionship of his school fellows—as a cadet at Sandhurst, proud of his uniform and somewhat over-bearing in his general demeanour, as it is the wont of the aspiring soldier to be— as a full-fledged ensign proud of talking of " Ours," and calmly convinced that that gallant corps was " second to none" in Her Majesty's Service — under each and all of these phases of life Basil was his mother's idol.

Yet when the regiment to which he belonged was put under orders for Indian service, and he ran down home to say goodbye to Sir Ralph and Lady Kirwen, the young soldier was far from realizing what a pent-up passion of anguish lay beneath the quiet of his mother's farewell, and to tell the truth, was rather ashamed of the tears that rushed into his own eyes as he looked back to see the greystone turrets of Farley fade from his sight. When she parted with her boy Lady Margaret's abundant hair was unlined by one silver streak, but soon after the night on which Basil went away her maid saw a white thread glisten ing here and there, and before his term of Indian service was over his mother's hair was grey. She said little of her pain at parting with him little of how she missed the sound of his step BASSENDALE. 15 about the house and the low whistle with which he had been wont to call his dogs out for a ramble ; but each lacking sound left an aching silence in the mother's heart such as none but herself and God knew.

Not even to Sir Ralph did she open her sorrow. He, always fragile in health, was so utterly broken-down by the parting with his son, that every one said that if it had not been for his wife's strength and courage he would have given way entirely. Strength ! courage ! Ah me ! were not both sorely needed, when, just as after nigh upon ten years' absence, the return of the heir of Farley began to be looked for. rumours of dis quiet and anarchy in the Punjab, such as forced the Government of India to hold troops in readi ness for an emergency reached England, to be quickly followed by the news that the Sikh Army had crossed the Sutlej, and war was de clared. Sir Ralph used to wander aimlessly and rest lessly about the house, or sit in the oriel window, alternately looking out into the dull November days where the few remaining flowers hung their wilted heads as if weighed down by the weight of the dank mist, or poring over Basil's letters, full of all a soldier's delight in the prospect of active service.

Those letters were never allowed MADELON. out of his sight, and when not reading them, he would pass his fingers gently over and over the thin rustling paper, as if he loved to touch what had come from his boy's own hand. When Christmas — its festivities among the Farley tenantry clouded over by a sense of anxiety that pressed on all alike — was long past, news came of the disaster of Moodkee. Basil, by this time Captain Kirwen, had been appointed aide-de-camp to the Governor-General, and when, before the terrible fire of the Sikh guns, one of our regiments showed symptoms of cowardice, his flashing sword and ringing voice aided in rousing the men from the cowardly stupor that seemed to have taken possession of their senses. After this his name was " honour ably mentioned" in despatches. " Listen to that ! listen to that !" said Sir Ralph, his long white hands shaking, his eyes bright with the sheen of glad tears ; and Lady Margaret, laying down the paper from which she had for the twentieth time been reading aloud the record of Basil's valour, exchanged a glance of apprehension with the Rector of Bassendale, whose face was graver than seemed suitable to the occasion.

Lady Margaret's voice had not failed, her eyes had not grown dim as she read, and yet she BASSENDALE. knew the story of Ferozeshuhur, and before her lay the ordeal of telling that story to her husband. With field-pieces almost useless the division under Sir John Littler had had to face the fire of the Sikh guns. Overwhelmed, de cimated, beaten down beneath a " hail of lead," the 62nd Foot fell back, repulsed, but even in de feat covered with glory. The rest of the English troops met with the same fate and night fell upon the field at last, as if Heaven-sent in mercy to cover the scene of such a terrible carnage and confusion as has been seldom recorded in the annals of our history. The names of the killed and wounded formed in truth a black list. Basil's own Regiment was almost cut to pieces — but few of its officers were left to tell the tale, and Captain Basil Kirwen, A.D.C., was returned as "dangerously wounded."

After all it was the Rector who broke this news to Sir Ralph. He saw that Lady Margaret was ready to face the trial of doing so, but he dreaded it for her and prevailed upon her to let him undertake the task himself. How tenderly how wisely it was accomplished those who knew anything of Hubert Unwin could well imagine, and under the sustaining power of words of holy con solation and loving counsels of submission, at last the old man bowed his head to Heaven's VOL. I. c MADELON. decree. Looking anxiously into Lady Margaret's face as he bade her farewell that day, the Rector saw that her eyes were dry and tearless yet filled with a dumb and pitiful anguish, while every feature seemed to have grown sharper, as though by the passing of long years. ... A lew lines, tremulously written as if the hand that traced them were reaching out to his loved ones from the very border-laud of death, came at length to Farley.

They were addressed to Lady Kirwen, and ran thus : — " Soften all this to my father as much as you can — they say there is a chance for me yet — dear old Barton will pull me through if care can do it. Do not let my father lose all hope." These things happened long before the miser able unification system at present in vogue took from every regiment in the Service tbe surgeon that was both friend and physician to every man in it, and gave the care of sick men to entire strangers, who, knowing nothing of their patients, feel none of that personal interest in each that is as the " oil and wine " of old to the weak and the suffering when far away from all those dear to them. Lady Margaret knew that Barton, the Surgeon-Major of Basil's Regiment was a close friend as well as medical attendant, and knew that no more tender and trustworthy fellow ever BASSENDALE. 19 watched by a sick comrade's couch.

There was comfort in this knowledge, yet one terrible leaven of bitterness lurked beneath it. Out of her husband's sight she let that bitterness have its way. She crushed Basil's letter in her hand, and the light in her eyes was lit by the torch of a cruel jealousy as she muttered through set lips : " Always the same story — always his father first of all— does he not remember that I too must suffer ?" Then self-reproach whispered, and the still small voice would claim a hearing — " You loved him — true, but you would not let him see how well. Your very love, poisoned by the jealous thoughts that have been ever present with you, since first he turned away from you a little golden-haired child to run to his father's arms, has frozen the kisses on your lips, even while your heart yearned towards your boy — he does not know how dear you hold him, and now —may be he will never come to you again — may be he will never know " In prayer too agonized to find expression in words yet legible to the God who reads each impulse of the heart, that most unhappy mother wrestled with heaven for the life of her son.

And heaven was kind. A message came across the sea to say that Captain Kirwen was " out of danger ; c MADELON. that he was coming home"— Nay that he was even then upon his way. Never in Bassendale would that Sunday be forgotten when Sir Ralph and his wife came to the altar of thanksgiving, and the usually calm proud woman for once broke down, weeping for very joy as she knelt at the altar rail and was bidden to receive the Sacramental pledges of the Saviour's love in humble thankfulness of heart. The service over, those of the humbler portion of the congregation who had lingered outside to see the great folk pass, stood in respectful silence, the men bare-headed, the women excitedly sympathetic. " One touch of nature makes the whole world kin," and as these poor women noted the wan white face of the Lady of the Manor now peacefully radiant with the light of a great thankfulness, they felt that after all she was but as one of themselves ; after all she was only a loving, trembling, anxious mother whose soldier-son was to her, just what a fisher-lad venturing on the stormy sea was to the woman who had carried him in her arms, and nourished him at her breast in the days that were past !

When Basil, in all the pride and glory of a boy-soldier had talked so grandly of " Ours," as if there had been no other regiment in the Service, little had he thought to see it so BASSENDALE. 21 " done to death" that a swift promotion should come to him, of which each step was marked by a comrade's grave. Yet so it was ; and by the time that that "prince of good fellows" Barton — who was, by the way, mentioned in Brigade Orders for his gallantry in carrying a wounded brother officer upon his back through a murderous fire — con sidered him fit to travel, he came home as Major and Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel Kirwen. "Well, well," said Sir Ralph, nodding his white head and looking proudly at his son, " they say ' England expects every man to do his duty,' and Gad, my boy I think you've done your share !" adding with a wistful glance, " I hardly think, Basil, your mother aud I could bear to part with you again ?"

In spite of mismanagement on the part of those in authority Sobraon had proved a complete victory to the English troops, peace had been de clared, and the Sikh chiefs had tendered their submission. These things being so, there was no prospect of further active service, and the name of Colonel Basil Dacre Kirwen appeared in the Gazette as having " sold out." He had " turned his sword into a ploughshare," exchanging the life of a soldier for that of a country squire ; though for the first year of his freedom Sir Ralph and Lady Margaret saw but little of their MADELON. son. The wounds received at Ferozeshuhur, con tinued to cause him much suffering, and necessi tated a somewhat nomad state of existence, now here, now there, seeking the renewed health and strength that was at last fully obtained.

Chapter II. The Rival Doctors

OF course no small country town of any pretensions to gentility would be without a High Street. Therefore there was a High Street in Bassendale, and nothing could be more genteel than the persons who inhabited that thoroughfare. There was also a market-place, and in the centre of the same a Market Cross ; and there were various other streets such as Church Street, and Ford Lane, but High Street was considered the "best" part of the town. Half way down this favoured locality stood a square brick house, a good substantial dwelling with a small garden in front, and a big garden behind, and over the gate two of the quaintest and most venerable yew trees that ever were seen. They were marvellously cut and pruned out of their natural shape into the semblance of an archway, MADELON. so densely formed of twigs, leaves and interlacing branches, that the most determined bird would never have thought of trying to effect an entrance therein.