Blind Fate. A novel

Front matter

W1//L ■'dp // / '/ ' / / ,, BLIND FATE BLIND FATE. a novel. BY MRS. ALEXANDER. AUTHOR OF "THE WOOING O'T," "A LIFE INTEREST," "MONA'S CHOICE," "BY WOMAN'S WIT," "A FALSE SCENT," &c, &c. IN TIIREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. London : F. V. WHITE & CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 1890. PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, AND KH{GSTON-ON-TUAMES. CONTENTS. ♦■ — CHAP. PAGE I. — Breaking Cover ..... 1 II. — " Duncan Gray's Come Here to Woo " 48 III. — "Taking Sweet Counsel" ... 81 IV. — Mother Caret's Chickens . . .119 V.— "A Change of Plan" . . . 157 VI. — After Life's Fitful Fever . . .193 VIL— "The Inquest'' POPULAR NEW fJOVELS. Now Ready, tn One Vot., the Seventh Edition of ARMY SOCIETY ; or, Life in a Garrison Town. By JOHN STRANGE Winter. Author of "Booties' Baby." Cloth gilt, 6s.; also picture boards, 2s. Also, Now Ready, in Cloth Gilt, Is. 6d. each.

GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton. By JOHN Strange Winter. Also picture boards, Is. A SIEGE BABY. By the same Author. Also picture boards, 2*. BEAUTIFUL JIM. By the same AUTHOR. BY WOMAN'S WIT. By Mrs. Alexander, Author of "The Wooing O't." Also picture boards, 2s. MONA'S CHOICE. By the same AUTHOR. A LIFE INTEREST. By the same Author. KILLED IN THE OPEN. By Mrs. EDWARD KENNARD. Also picture boards, 2*. THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT. A Sporting Novel. By the same AUTHOR. Also picture boanls, 2s. A REAL GOOD THING. By the same AUTHOR. Also picture boards, 2s. A CRACK COUNTY. By the same AUTHOR. STRAIGHT AS A DIE. By the same Author. Also picture boards, 2s. TWILIGHT TALES. By the same AUTHOR. Illustrated. IN A GRASS COUNTRY. By Mrs. H. LOVETT-CAMERON. Also picture boards, 2s. A DEVOUT LOVER.

By the same Author. THE COST OF A LIE. By the same AUTHOR. THIS WICKED WORLD. By the same AUTHOR. THE OUTSIDER. By HAWLEY SMART. Also picture boards, 2s. THE MASTER OF RATHKELLY. By the same AUTHOR. SHE CAME BETWEEN. By Mrs. ALEXANDER FRASER. THE CRUSADE OF THE " EXCELSIOR." By BRET HARTE. Also picture boards, 2s. CURB AND SNAFFLE. By SIR RANDAL H. ROBERTS, Bart. DREAM FACES. By THE HONBLE. MRS. FETHERSTONHAUGH. THE HONBLE. MRS. VEREKER. By the Author of " Molly Bawn," &c. THE DUCHESS OF ROSEMARY LANE. By B. L. FARJEON. F. V. WHITE & CO., 31, Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C.

Chapter I. Breaking Cover

The last notes of an air from the " Trovatore " were dying out over the shining sea. The crowd which had gathered on the pier to listen to the band began to move and disperse, the music being over for that afternoon, a fine glowing August afternoon, tempered by the fresh, soft air breathing across the bay, crisp ing the water here and there and bringing a delightful saltness from the rippling waters. The scene is Fordsea, a flourishing South-Coast bathing place, not altogether VOL. I. dependent for its prosperity on summer nomads. Its attractions are of a more per manent character. Being in the close neighbourhood of the Naval and Military Station of Eastport, the officers of both services are glad to establish their families in the villas, terraces, crescents, which border the grassy common intervening between them and the beach.

At the end of this pleasant common, furthest from the old grey fortifications which encircle the town, a pretty two storied villa stood on an abrupt rising ground, from which it commanded a view over the wide bay to the towers guarding the entrance to the port, to the steeples and the tall masts over-topping the grey walls. A verandah, its supports overgrown with roses and honeysuckle, ran along the side facing the sea, and a deep area, with sloping grassy sides surrounded it, giving light and air to the basement. This verandah was evidently used as a morning-room, comfortable lounging-chairs, a work-table laden with books, bright coloured silks and wools, a doll and a cup and ball lay about. The carefully-kept garden was rich in flowers for the time of year, and opened by a rustic gate upon the common, here narrowed into a mere strip of green inter vening between it and the sea.

On the beach in front of this dainty mansion a young lady was sitting on a ridge of shingle, bleached by sea and sea water to perfect cleanliness, which afforded a comfortable resting-place. The young lady seemed much at her ease. Her skirt of blue serge was turned up over a second skirt of white and blue and caught up at the back in what used to be called " fish wife " fashion — the bodice fitting her slight 1* supple figure easily, perfectly ; a little foot in a dark-blue stocking, and an incom parable shoe peeped forth as she supported an open book on one knee, and a wide brimmed sailor hat almost hid her face as she bent over the page. A big brown boat drawn up beside her made a shelter from the level rays of the sinking sun. Altogether she presented a pretty picture of quiet enjoyment.

As the last strains of the band died away a gentleman in boating attire strolled slowly across the grass, paused, looked round as if searching for something, and then came straight over the shingle towards her. She heard his step and looked at her book with renewed attention, nor did she move till he stood beside her. Then she raised her face, an interesting, rather than a pretty face, somewhat brunette in complexion, and pale, with a warm paleness — a small, oval face, with a delicate chin and a very slight downward curve at the corners of the soft red mouth, that gave a pathetic expression to her countenance when in. repose. Her eyes, too, which were her best feature — large eyes, with long, dark lashes, had a wistful, far-away look, more suited to a saint than to their piquante owner. The man who paused beside her was tall and slender, with a grace of movement not usual in an Englishman.

He was darker, too, than ordinary Anglo-Saxons, who rarely possess such blue-black hair and flashing dark eyes as his. His well-cut, refined, but determined mouth was un shaded by moustaches, though a strong growth of black beard showed through his clear olive brown skin. He smiled a soft, caressing smile as he threw himself on the sand at her feet, saying : " I thought you had gone on the pier with Callander?" " No ; he has gone to the station to meet Mr. Standish, and Mabel has had the honour of a command from the Grand Duchess to drive with her." The saintly-pathetic expression entirely disappeared, as she spoke with a swift, arch smile, and a flash of scorn from her " holy eyes." " Ah," he returned, in an amused tone, " why did you not go to meet your beloved guardian ? " " I never meant to go.

I came out of the way to listen to the band here. Music is so charming as it comes fitfully on the breeze, and I enjoy it most alone." "Well, it is over now, so I may venture to stay ? " " Oh yes, if you like ! But I am tired of sittinohere. I want to match some silks. Do you mind, Mr. Egerton ? " " Not at all. As Madame de Stael says, - etre avec ceux quon aime " It sounds just as well in English," she interrupted, laughing. "'To be with those we love is all-sufficient, etc., etc , etc.' — yes, it is a pretty sentiment." " You are not in an amiable mood to day, Miss Wynn. What book is this ? Let me carry it for you. Ah! 'The Great Lone Land.' " " Yes, it is charming — thank you," sivino; it to him " Don't you think it would be cruel to waste this lovely evening matching silks in a stuffy shop ?

Let us go along the common towards the pier. We may meet some of your party returning." " Yes, let us go along by the sea." She turned as she spoke and directed her steps to a low grassy embankment which pro tected the common on the shore side. They walked awhile in silence, Egerton's expression hardening as though his thoughts were not pleasant. Presently he began to speak on indifferent topics, and suddenly, after a pause, Miss Wynn asked : "Do you really think Colonel Callander seems better ? " "Yes, I do. I fancy the sunstroke which knocked him down was not severe. Good as an excuse to come home to his wife, perhaps, and here she is ! " he ex claimed, interrupting himself, as a smart victoria and pair came up at a brisk pace and stopped beside them. " I thought we might meet you," said the elder of two ladies who occupied the carriage, a stately-looking woman of per haps sixty or more, with iron-grey hair, a thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, and eyes too light for her complexion.

Her companion was a beautiful young woman, exquisitely fair, with soft blue eyes and light golden brown hair. Except on her lips she had scarce a trace of colour, and her delicate face expressed pensive weariness as she lay back in the carriage. "I thought we should meet you," repeated the elder lady, who was the Dowager Mrs. Callander. " Now Mabel can walk home with you, for I must return to receive my niece, Henrietta Oakeley. You ought to have come with us, Dorothy, but no doubt you were better engaged " Egerton bowed, and raised his hat as if he had received a high compliment. Dorothy smiled and gave a saucy little toss of her head as her sister alighted from the carriage. " I hope you will all dine with me tomorrow, to meet Miss Oakeley," continued the Dowager. " May I have the pleasure of seeing you too Mr. Egerton ?

" " Certainly ; I shall be delighted! " Mrs. Callander opened and upreared a grand white, much-beflounced parasol, bowed graciously, and was whirled away to her hotel. "You do not look much the better of your drive, Mabel ! " said her sister, looking earnestly at her. " I assure you Mrs. Callander was un usually amiable. I don't think she stabbed me more than once or twice." She slipped her arm through Dorothy's, and, turning towards home, walked on slowly between her sister and Egerton. 9 Mabel and Dorothy Wynn were the daughters of a military officer, who, in the days of purchase, never had money enough to buy the next step beyond that of captain. When both girls were babies, Captain Wynn lost his wife, and then in considera tion of his junior officers' wishes, expressed in L. S. D., retired.

He did not long survive the combined loss of wife and career. His daughters remained at the school where he had placed them, in order to acquire the means of adding to their diminutive income. They had apparently no relation save their guardian, Paul Standish. He was a distant cousin of the late Captain Wynn, and his nearest friend — he was also executor to his kinsman's will, as well as guardian to his children ; and very faith fully did he fulfil the duties he had undertaken. The young orphans soon learned to look upon him as an elder brother, indeed to Dorothy, who was five years younger than her sister, he seemed in their childish days quite elderly. One afternoon he brought a married sister to see them. This lady invited the two <iirls to dine, and go to the theatre. A supreme joy in itself, and productive of important consequences.

At dinner they met Colonel, then Major Callander, a grave, sedate man, who had run the gauntlet of many garrisons with out any serious affairs of the heart ; and now, in the most unexpected manner, he fell utterly and absolutely fathoms deep in love with the defunct Captain's lovely daughter Mabel. This he soon confessed to her guardian, who, though pleased at the fair prospect opening before a girl eminently unfitted to take care of herself, recommended caution in carrying out so suddenly con ceived a project, especially as it met with the most furious opposition from Callander's mother. Mrs. Callander senior was a woman of large fortune, who had chosen her husband from among various competitors ; first, because he pleased her fancy, and was of a yielding nature ; secondly, because he was of an old county family.

Herbert Callander was her only child, and she adored him with a narrow selfish love, more bent on its own gratification than the happiness of its object. Her son, however, proved not to be of the stuff women can tie to their apron strings. He had a distinct will of his own, and having inherited a moderate independence from his father, he went his own way immove ably, though always treating his mother with courtesy and affectionate respect, for he was really fond of her. When the purse-proud woman, who had all a parvenu's avidity for rank and dis tinction, found that her son, her only son, was going to throw himself away on a penniless nobody, worse than nobody (for Mrs. Callander had ferretted out some painful ante-nuptial story, respecting the late Mrs. Wynn), her rage and mortifica tion knew no bounds.

Colonel Callander, however, carried out his project, and Mabel, won by his quiet kindness, and pleased at the prospect of a home which he assured her she should share with her sister, when that wilful little personage was old enough to leave school, consented with sweet frank readi ness, and in about six months after their first meeting Mabel Wynn became Mabel Callander, the object of her grave husband's profound devotion, of her overbearing mother-in-law's deepest dislike. This event wrought a considerable change in the life of Mabel's sister. The first grief of parting (which was keen and deep) over, Dorothy found that many pleasures and advantages had come into her hitherto rather meagre existence. She had prettier frocks, more abundant bonnets, and more frequent expeditions to concert and panorama with those better-off elder girls whose superior lot she had hitherto envied.

The Christmas and Midsummer holidays, spent with Major and Mrs. Callander wherever they happened to be quartered, were glorious periods of fun and frolic, and when, nearly two years after the fortunate marriage, a little baby niece was presented to her, her joy and exultation knew no bounds. Towards her brother-in law she felt the warmest regard, not un tinged with awe, and her highest reward, when she did resist her natural tendency to idleness, and attained any school dis tinction, was Callander's grave approbation. This halcyon period came to a close when the baby girl was a few months old, and the regiment being ordered to India, the commanding officer retired and Callander got his step. But a warm climate did not suit his fair wife, who was never very strong. After the birth of a boy she was ordered home.

Dorothy, now close on the serious age of eighteen, by Callander's wish, left school to reside with her sister. The only draw backs to this blissful arrangement, was the neighbourhood and supervision of Mrs. Callander, the delicacy and depression of Mabel. This, however, seemed likely to pass away, as, in a month or two, Dorothy gladly recognised an improvement in health and spirits. The winter was a pleasant one, for Paul Standish proved himself the best "guide, philosopher, and friend " they could have had. The gaiety of their lives was consider ably increased towards Christmas by the arrival in London of Egerton, who had known Colonel and Mrs. Callander in India, where he had gone for sport and travel. He had left shortly before she did, returning by the Persian Gulf and the Euphrates, in order to visit the ruined cities on the old caravan route.

He loaded the sisters with flowers, stalls at the theatres, small presents, endless attentions, managing at the same time to stand well with the Dowager, who re spected his wealth and position. In the spring, Mabel caught a severe cold, and was recommended to try the South Coast for change of air. Standish found and secured for her the pretty villa vol. i. called "The Knoll," at Fordsea, where, as in a quiet pool, the current of this true tale at present seems scarcely to move. Here their faithful squires came to and fro, and brought them the echoes of the world. Mrs. Callander senior did not leave them long undisturbed, for she followed before the season was over, and established herself, her maidservants and her men-servants, her horses and her carriage, at the Pier Hotel. She was, however, unusually indul gent to those sinners, Mabel and her sister, for it began to dawn upon her that Mr. Egerton of Netherleigh was absolutely paying attention to that plain insignificant Dorothy.

The peaceful tenor of this tranquil period was rudely broken by the news of Colonel Callander's illness. He had received a sunstroke while on some military expedition, and though he made a fairly quick recovery, he was ordered home, and had arrived about three weeks before the opening of this history. But this long digression has out-lasted the homeward march of the trio we left strolling towards the Knoll. At the gate leading into the grounds on the land side they found a group, consisting of Colonel Callander, another gentleman, the nurse and children. Callander was a man about Egerton's height, and more massively built. He was dark and sunburnt, with a plain, strong face and grave, earnest eyes. But his was the darkness of an Englishman, Egerton's of a foreigner. He was holding his little girl's doll, while that young person attempted to " climb up " the leg of the other man, who was their expected visitor, Standish, a fair and exceedingly Saxon looking individual, with light reddish- 2* brown moustaches and well-trimmed hair of the same hue.

He was shorter than either of the others, but well set up and distinguished - looking. Though by no means handsome, he had a pleasant sensible face, with a rather large jaw and well shaped eyes of no particular colour, but bright and keen. The nurse stood by, holding Master Baby in her arms, while he struggled and kicked vigorously as soon as he saw his mother. " Don't hold that boy, he is too heavy for you ! " exclaimed Standish, as soon as they had exchanged greetings, for Mrs. Callander had yielded to her son's loudly expressed claim for notice — he tried to take him as he spoke. " Give him to his nurse," said the Colonel quickly. " How long you have been ! You must be very tired." " Well, Dorothy, you are blooming as usual, but the sun has been a trifle too loving, eh? " said Standish.

" Oh, I know I am sunburnt ! and so is little Doll, though we do our best to keep her sun hat on. Just look," and lifting the child's sunny curls, she showed the dif ference of the covered and uncovered por tions of her brow. " Fair little puss ! she is the image of her mother," and Standish lifted the child to kiss her affectionately. " I think it is almost time to dress for dinner," remarked Callander, who had been talking with Egerton while his wife and Dorothy had devoted themselves to Standish. " It is indeed, and I have to go back to the hotel." Eaising his hat, Egerton walked briskly away towards the pier, while the others entered the house. Mrs. Callander's little dinner was a greater success in her own estimation than perhaps in that of her guests. She had what she considered a distinguished party, which included an Honourable Major St. John, whose pretensions to exclusiveness and superiority were upheld by masterly taciturnity ; her niece, a much-travelled and experienced young lady of good fortune, and beyond the twenties, to whom the Dowager once thought of marrying her son, and who was nothing loth ; an eloquent Low Church divine, the Eev.

Septimus Cole, who was her spiritual director, Egerton, sundry nonentities, naval and military, of good position, and her son with his wife, who looked provokingly elegant. Dorothy had been unceremoniously put off to make room for St. John, who was especially asked for Miss Oakeley's benefit, and as Egerton, who was, Mrs. Callander thought, the greatest man there, was more silent than usual, and looked slightly bored, she began to fear before dinner was over that she had made a mistake in dispensing with that conceited, insignificant chit Dorothy, for really Mr. Egerton seemed to miss something, and that something might be Dorothy. The rest of the company, with the ex ception of Miss Oakeley, " made " con versation more or less stiffly. She rattled away on all possible subjects to St. John and Egerton, between whom she sat, being divided between the desire to make an im pression on the latter and animate the former.

Colonel and Mrs. Callander remained to the last, as he acted host, and when the family party were left alone, Miss Oakeley took a low chair beside her cousin's wife. "I have not had the chance of a word with you," she exclaimed, " and it must be more than two years since we met. I protest you are prettier than ever, but paler and graver." "Thank you, Henrietta. Please remember I have two babies to think of now." " Horrid little brats ! I hate children ! " " Heretic ! they are sweet things, but certainly troublesome. How do you think Herbert looks? " " Oh, very well. I would not trouble about him. Tell me, how do you come to be such friends with Eandal Egerton? He is the most exclusive of men, and never allows himself to be bored." " Then I suppose we do not bore him. He was hurt when out tiger-shooting, and carried into our bungalow, where we nursed him.

He fancied we saved his life. Herbert is very fond of him." " And Dorothy ? I fancy she has grown pretty. May I come to luncheon tomorrow? I promise not to murder the children if you show them to me. And so Mr. Standish is with you. Why in the world didn't my aunt ask him to dinner? He is so agreeable and so popular." While Miss Oakeley chattered on, Mrs. Callander was pouring a few grievances into her son's ear. " I am sorry Mabel was so bored at dinner to-day, but I am quite aware of the »> reason. " Indeed ! Well, I did not observe her being bored, nor do I know why she should be." " Oh, I am the offender ! I did not ask Mr. Standish to join us. He is, I confess, a man I neither like nor approve." " There is no accounting for taste. He is a good fellow enough." " A mere worldling. I fear his want of faith has had an evil influence on Mabel and Dorothy.' " Oh, come !

If there are no worse women in the world than my wife and little Dorothy, it would not be a bad place! — Mabel, it will be late before we reach home." The Dowager (as she liked to be called, it somehow smacked of ducal rank) bade them a glacial good-night, but Henrietta ran down stairs to see them off. "You will be at Mr. Egerton's pic-nic on Tuesday, will you not? He has asked me and Aunt Callander. Just fancy her yachting ! She will bore and be bored. Mind you are at home to luncheon, Herbert, I am coming! " " Certainly ! as to the pic-nic, nearly everyone is going, ourselves among the number. Good-night." " I think Herbert looks rather glum," said Miss Oakeley, when she returned to her aunt, who was sitting very straight up, with a frown on her cold face. " You observe it too ? and I am not sur prised.

Mabel is so greatly attached to her guardian that his word is law. Heaven knows I am the last to think evil, but I cannot forget that her mother married the late Captain Wynn during the life-time of her first husband." " Why, auntie ! " cried Miss Oakeley in a tone of delighted excitement, " you do not mean to say that she committed bigamy ? " " No, Henrietta, but what was as bad — she left her husband for another man." " Well, perhaps number one was a brute ; to be sure I am not a strictly religious high-toned woman. I should scent out more wickedness if I were." Meanwhile Colonel and Mrs. Callander drove home in silence, and found that Dorothy had gone to bed, but the lamp was still alight in the pretty drawing room. Two or three letters, which had come by the last post, lay upon the table.

Callander stood reading them be side the light. Mabel threw aside the white Indian shawl in which she had been wrapped, and watched him while he read. He had aged certainly — there was a heaviness about his brow that used not to be there. Would he ever be quite the same as he was before that unfortunate sunstroke ? Presently he laid down his letters with a sigh. " There is nothing unpleasant in them, dear ? " asked his wife, coming timidly to him, and, slipping her arm through his, pressed her fair young head against his shoulder. " Nothing whatever, they are of no im portance." He stood quite still, and Mabel, still pressing against him, said : " Does anything disturb or worry you, Herbert ? I cannot help fancying " she stopped abruptly. He looked down into the sweet face uplifted to his so gravely, that she could not continue — and yet he made no movement to return her caress.

" What is there to make me unhappy ? " he asked in a cold, composed voice. "I am with those I love — and who — I be lieve, love me. I have dear children, and a sweet wife. Oh, how sweet and fair," he exclaimed, with a sudden change of tone, and, clasping her in his arms, he gazed into her eyes as if he would draw out the secrets of her soul. " Whom I love too well — too well ! " She felt the strong beating of his heart as he strained her to him, and his lips clung to hers in a long passionate kiss. Suddenly he released her. " Are you cold, that you shivered so ? " he asked quickly. " No, not at all — but — but you make me a little uneasy. Do not thrust me away as if I were a naughty child, Herbert. You know I love you ! " She took his arm and put it round her. " If I did not believe it, chaos would indeed be come again," cried Callander, gathering her to him in a close embrace.

" Do not mind my variability of mood, Mabel! Whatever I may seem, never doubt that you are all the world to me!" Paul Standish was a capital " aide de-camp " in organising a pic-nic, and Egerton benefitted by his assistance. Standish was a man of good family, very well known and popular in certain London circles. Though generally con sidered a shrewd worldling, there was a kindly core to his heart, and he deeply enjoyed his quiet visits to the Knoll. His work (he was in the Foreign Office) had taken him much abroad, and he liked the repose and refinement of Mabel's home. Though no longer young, he had still all the vigour and elasticity of youth, and was not yet chilled by the effects of a tolerably wide experience. The day before that fixed for Egerton's yachting party, not finding Dorothy in the house or garden, Standish started in search of her, and, knowing her haunts, was not long in discovering his ward.

She was kneeling on the short, partially bleached herbage which covered a low rising ground at some little distance eastward from the Knoll ; behind it the sun had already sunk, leaving the waters of the bay somewhat dull and mournful. " I looked for you in vain," began Standish, when Dorothy, her hands full of the long grasses she had been gathering, started to her feet with a low cry, a startled, pathetic expression on her mobile face. " I have frightened you," said Standish smiling. " Why, where are your thoughts, Dorothy ? " " Not very far, Paul," beginning to tie her grasses together. " They are never very far from me at present." " Hum ! That might be accounted for in two ways." " How ? " " They may be occupied by Mabel. They may possibly dwell on our fascinating friend, Egerton." " Fascinating !

Do you think him fascinating ? " " Well, I am scarcely a judge ; but he is a handsome, accomplished fellow." " Yes, he is, and you are right. I was thinking of him." She uttered these words with the utmost composure. Standish looked at her with steady scrutiny, but she did not perceive it. " I am waiting for further confessions," he said at length. " I have nothing to confess, Paul, at least not at present." She paused, and then went on : " Mr. Egerton's mother was a Spaniard, was she not? " "Yes, I believe so. He looks like a Spaniard himself." " He does, and I think he could be very revengeful. I feel afraid of him some times." " What, do you think he will plunge vol. i. a stiletto in your heart — because, oh, say because you walked with me ? " A faint colour rose in Dorothy's cheek, but she laughed low and exclaimed : " That would be too illogical !