A Woman's Heart. A novel

Front matter

A WOMAN'S HEART A WOl ite-HEART. Jl BV MRS. ALEXANDER, AUTHOR OF "THE WOOING O'T," "BY WOMAN'S WIT," "A LIFE INTEREST," "A FALSE SCENT," " BLIND FATE," Etc, Etc. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: F. V. WHITE AND CO., 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. 189L PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., MIDDLE MILL, KINGSTON-ON-THAMES ; .AND GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, W.C. CONTENTS. CHAP. TAG E I. — A Choice or Evils ..... 1 II. — "Shadows" . . ... . '31 Ul.— Home ...... 39 IV.— A Pair or Frienls ... 60 V. — Mrs. Repton ..... 76 VI. — "At the Parting of the Ways . . 102 VII.— A Compact ...... 1-7 VIII.— A Telegram . . . . • 1-19 IX.— The Bolt falls ..... H>& X.— On the Rack . . . 190 XI.— The Storm Gathers . ■ •

Chapter I

A CHOICE OF EVILS. A mud-bespattered hansom turned rapidly into one of those few remaining green-lane-like old streets behhid Kensington (lore which have not yet been improved off the face of the earth, one wet October morning, and stopped at the gate of a semi-detached villa. By no means a prosperous-looking villa. The plaster had fallen in patches from the wrall, and the rail ings sorely needed a coat of paint. From the cab descended a gentleman whose figure looked young and active, though his face was grave, almost careworn. His long straight-cut coat, soft wide-brimmed hat and white neck-band indicated the High Church parson. After a brief tussle with the gate, which, owmg to an inequality in the low w-alls at either side, was difficult to open, he succeeded in reaching the door, where he rapped energeti cally, producing a sharp, spiteful reverberation suggestive of thhi walls and narrow space.

VOL. I. l Some minutes elapsed before it was cautiously half-opened by an extremely youthful servant with a smutty face and an apron to match. " Is Mrs. Repton at home ? " asked the clergyman. " I'm not sure, but I'll see," returned the girl. '• Pray give her my card," taking out his case and extracting one. Half-closing the door, she retreated, but came back quickly, with an invitation to enter. " In a moment," he said, and proceeded to pay the driver and dismiss the vehicle. " Please walk in, sir," said the little slavey, opening the door of a fairly-sized sitting-room, winch looked out upon a damp and wTeedy garden. " I'll light a bit of fire in a minute." " Not for me ; I shall be gone before it could burn up," replied the visitor in rather measured tones and with a pleasant refined voice.

" Pray do not take the trouble." The servant hesitated, and finally left the room, which the visitor began to pace slowiy, thoughtfully. He was pale and thin, but tall and wrell made ; his light brown hair curled rebelliously in spite of all efforts to reduce it to priestly straightness, and a pair of light-blue eyes seemed hitended by nature for laughter rather than the profound gravity wThich they expressed. He was not left long alone. The door was soon again opened, to admit a lady ; a tall lady in a simple grey tea gown, which fell round her in straight, yet becoming folds. Her dark, almost black hair was parted and drawn back loosely into a thick coil, its own richness forming a sufficient coiffure. She had a fine, expressive face, brunette hi colour, with very large hazel-brown eyes — brown with a tinge of red in it — heavy white-lidded eyes, wThich could glance up at times with startling fire.

Her smiling, red-lipped mouth had a suspicion of dark down at the corners, and, parting to utter words of welcome, showed a range of dazzling white teeth, the upper row divided slightly but distinctly in the centre. She might be twenty-five, she might be thirty — she was indisputably in the earliest stage of her perfect prime. " How kind and good of you to call, Mr. Granard," she said, holding out her hand, a long white, capable -looking hand. " Howr did you find me out ? " " I met Stephen Ferrars yesterday," he returned, shaking hands with her, " and he mentioned that you wrere in town ; so, as I had some tidings for you, I thought I would seek you in your former abode." "lam amazed that the supreme Mr. Ferrars remembered the existence of so insignificant an individual as I am," she returned with a quick, questioning glance.

"What brought him to town hi the midst of the hunting season ? " 1-2 " He is on his way to Paris to escort my sister home." " Ah ! " The expression of this " Ah ! " was more uneasiness than surprise. " When does she return ? " " I do not knowr — it depends on my father's condition ; he is recovering, but is hardly strong enough for Claire to leave him." " He has had a terrible illness," she spoke softly and sympathetically. " His recovery is wonderful at his age." A pause. " Now I am all curiosity to hear your news." She sat, or rather sank, down on a hard, slippery, horsehair-covered sofa, as if it were the most luxurious couch, leaning her arm on its adamantine cushion and her head on her hand, in an attitude of complete restful ease, which suggested the absence of steels hi any part of her apparel and would have charmed a painter or a sculptor.

" I hope it may be good news to you, Mrs. Repton," returned her visitor, drawing a chair opposite and looking at her with interest not unmixed with apprehension. " When, some months ago, my sister introduced me to you, she mentioned (with your permission) that you would be glad of some appointment suited to an educated lady and a conscientious church woman. I think I have something to offer which is worth your consideration. A par ishioner of mine, a w-ealthy unmarried lady, who has a fine old house in our remote neisshbourhood, wishes to convert it into a home for penniless orphan girls of gentle blood, where they may be educated and fitted to earn their own living in various ways. The system will be partially conventual, but I need not now dwell on details. I think I could secure you the position of mother superior in this establishment ; it would entail a good deal of re sponsibility and application, but you would have a comfortable home and a fair salary (a hundred and fifty pounds a year).

I have already spoken of you to the foundress and secured her leave to make you the offer." Mrs. Repton did not immediately reply ; she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes for a moment ; then she said in a low and slightly tremulous voice : " How good you are ! After my cruelly ruffed life this thoughtful kindness seems to overpower me. " It is, then, an employment that would suit you ? — this, that I propose " "Admirably, if 1 suited it." " I rejoice to hear you say so," warmly. " Of your fitness I have no doubt — there fore— " "Mr. Granard — excuse me for interrupting you — but I am hi a great difficulty, and I tfiank Heaven that I have you beside me to counsel and to guide. In any case I should take your advice ; nature has bestowed the excellent gift of sound judgment upon you, and, apart from this, especial light must be given to your sacred office."

Sfie sat upright as she spoke, as if roused to energy, one fair hand outstretched and resting on the end of the black sofa. " Speak to me with confidence," returned the young priest, his blue eyes growing soft and compassionate. " You knowr," resumed Mrs. Repton, " that when in great distress last whiter, my poor husband's sister, Mrs. Thorpe, offered me an asylum at Langford Grange — I say Mrs. Thorpe, for her husband's deplorable condition of semi-childishness makes her master as well as mistress. It wTas so far fortunate for me that I thus met your sister after years of separation and found a friend in her. To Mrs. Thorpe I was able to be of use ; my knowledge of nursing proved a boon, and just before leav ing her to come here Mrs. Thorpe pressed me so urgently to return to her, for three or four months at least, that in common gratitude I could not refuse.

I therefore gave a solemn promise to return. Can you absolve me from this ? " " If properly represented to her, Mrs. Thorpe wrould not hold you to it — she would see that it was to your benefit that she should absolve you ; and my duty as an adviser — I will not say a spiritual adviser— compels me to warn you that the Grange is not the best abode for you. For your sake, I must observe that Mrs. Thorpe's apparent neglect of her almost im becile husband, her reckless riding to hounds wiiile her son is wandering abroad and her daughter banished to school, does not elevate her hi the eyes of— of her neighbours ; while you, still young — and — of more than ordinary fairness " (the young man blushed, though he uttered the wrords with cold collectedness), " will possibly be classed with your relative hi her reprehensible levity."

" My youth," returned Mrs. Repton with a sad smile, " was crushed to death long years ago. Believe me," she wTent on with soft earnestness, "believe me, Miriam — Mrs. Thorpe — is cruelly maligned ; she does not neglect her husband ; she is kind to him ; but, used as she was to an out-of-door life, to be constantly on horseback (you know wThat a horsey set the Reptons are), she absolutely needs air and exercise to help her in her gloomy and fatiguing life ; she is too regardless of appearances, and in this I hope to influence her— to make her home more homelike. It is far too depressing an abode for a girl of thirteen — Gertrude is much better at school. For myself, I really believe I can be of great use to Mrs. Thorpe, and have a softening influence upon her." " Perhaps so," said Mr. Granard doubtfully " But I should be sorry you lost the chance of such an appointment as I am empowered to offer you.

The splendid air of the Yorkshire moors wrould invigorate you ; the congenial A WOMAN S HEART. task of training and forming young souls ; seclusion from noisy, heartless, contaminating society ; occupation, repose, security, and per haps the occasional society of a spiritual friend, like myself, might heal your bruised heart, and lead to as much happiness as we may expect here below." "It is indeed hard to turn from such a picture," said Mrs. Repton with a slight catch in her voice like a sob ; :' but can I, ought I, to desert my sister-in-law ? May I not do a good work there too ? " " You best know your ground," said Gra nard drily. " What will you decide ? A mother superior must be found, and that soon." " Can you not give me ten days or a week to explahi the position to Mrs. Thorpe and to make up my mind ?

" She clasped her slender fingers together and held out her hands to him with an imploring gesture. Mr. Granard rose. " Yes, you shall have a week," he said somewhat stiffly. " When do you return to the Grange ? " " To-morrow. You are not angry with me ? " " Anger wTould ill become me," he returned gently. " You are the best judge of your own obligations ; only such an opportunity may not again present itself." " I know that well. Yet you would not have me throw off the friend who sheltered me in my hour of need, at the first gleam of better prospect ? " " Certainly not, if the case stands as you believe it does. Now I shall leave you.' I return to Yorkshire to-night ; you have my address. Let me hear from you before the week is out." " You shall, dear Mr. Granard ; indeed you shall. I feel so reluctant to let you o-o. You do not know what a comfort, what a source of strength it is to talk to you, to listen to you.

Let me send for a cab, it is raining heavily." " Thank you. I shall find one as I go." And he was gone. Mrs. Repton stood quite still after the door had closed, her hands clasped and drojiped before her ; an expression of profound thought darkening her countenance, a sombre far-away look stealing into her eyes. From this reverie or meditation she was roused by the entrance of an elderly woman hi shabby black, a very shady white muslin cap covering her pepper and salt coloured hair, and a much, though not lately, washed Shetland shawl round her shoulders. She was stout and unrestrained in figure, but had the remains of good looks, and a curious vulgarized likeness to the handsome, graceful creature confronting her. " Well, he did not stay long, dear." " Long enough," returned Mrs. Repton dreamily, while she slowly unclasped her hands.

" And to think of his finding the place so bare, the table-cover folded up, and not a bit of fire." "It is no matter ; the barer and more miserable my surroundings the better in this case," said Mrs. Repton quietly. " Well, come down to the parlour fire nowr ; it is bitter cold and damp, and the fire there is pretty good." "Very well," and Mrs. Repton seemed to pull herself together ; " and, Aunt Tony, can you give me some luncheon ? I have a string of commissions to accomplish this afternoon, and nature requires support." " Yes, I have a nice little cutlet for you and a roast tomato. Come, you are looking wrhite with cold, and you are nothing without colour." Mrs. Repton laughed, showhig all her white teeth, and followed her aunt down stairs to one of those basement parlours not uncommon in suburban villas.

A bright fire wras burning in the grate, and dingy red moreen curtains draped the door window which led into the garden ; a square piece of darned and torn carpet covered the centre of the floor, the rest of wdiich had been painted dark browai ; a table, covered with a much crumpled table-cloth, and laid for dinner, with scanty ill-cleaned appliances for that meal, stood near the fire. Mrs. Repton brought a chair and sat down at the place set for her, leaning her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands with a quick deep sigh. " Yes, I knowr it is a miserable place for you, Eva, after the elegance you have come from. I wish I could give you more luxuries and niceties, but it has been a bad year with me, and as for even thinking of a new carpet " " It will always be a bad year with you as long as you go to bed early and get up so late, and put off things and cowrer over the fire as you do," interrupted Mrs. Repton abruptly.

" But as for me, you need not apologize, my visits are very brief ; still I am sorry to see you alwrays out at elbows, for though I am able to help you a little this time, God knowrs wyhen I can again. You are too much out of the wTay here. Why did you ever settle hi this poky obscure dingy corner ? " " Well, dear, wiien I came here first it wras considered at once rural and refined, and prices " " Well, nowr it is damp and deserted. I wish I could put you in a better place ; perhaps you would rouse up then and make a fresh start." " You are always kind and thoughtful for me. What brought that gentleman here this morning ; was it any good ? " " I will tell you presently, but I will eat first, and very nice your cutlet smells. What ever your shortcomings, Aunt Tony, your cooking is good." This, as the smutty girl brought in a wreak tray bending under the weight of some plates and a couple of dishes.

Moving two chairs together with her foot, she placed the tray upon them and proceeded to lift the plates. " Gracious powTers, Belinda, take care what you are about ! " cried her mistress ; " those dishes will be down and done for," and she started up to prevent the calamity. " If there was a sideboard now," said Belinda reflectively. " Sideboard, indeed ! Where did you meet with a sideboard, I'd like to know ? Go ; have the eggs and parsley and all ready, and as soon as I have had a mouthful I'll come and make the omelette. I thought you'd like a savoury rather than a sweet, Eva." " Thank you. I don't suppose that even in my baby days I ever cared for swreets. Your cutlets are excellent, Aunt Tony." Silence ensued whilst they discussed the viands before them. Then the elder lady departed and soon returned with an ethereal-looking omelette, wiiich she divided with her convive.

Though Mrs. Repton ate slowly and delicately, she evidently enjoyed her luncheon, yet her mind seemed preoccupied. " I wish I had a nice glass of wine to offer you," said her hostess. " I knowr you don't take ale. Nowr I find a little stout absolutely necessary." " I do not take wine either," said Mrs. Repton. " Well, I must say I do not think cold water wholesome. Why do you persist hi taking it, Eva ? " " For two excellent reasons : consideration for my complexion, and because I like other beverages too wrell." " Law, my dear, what nonsense." " No, it is not nonsense ; I am hi a difficult crisis, and nothing stronger than water shall muddle my brains." " Well, well," cried her aunt, who did not seem to care for the discussion, " that's your affair. You never told me wiiat brought that gentleman here to-day."

" To make me what might be termed a sporting offer." " An offer, my dear ! " laying down her fork. " Oh ! Tony, Tony, the word ' offer ' only suggests marriage to you," and Mrs. Repton proceeded to repeat the substance of her con versation with Mr. Granard. " Why, Eva, it seems to be a good chance. A hundred and fifty a year ain't bad, when you have nothing to provide except a bit of dress." " No ; it would not do. I am much too round a woman for that square hole. Just think of the wild Yorkshire moors (it is some where near them), and the classes and the prayers and the accounts." She shivered visibly. " No. I have other plans." " I knowr how clever you are, but can you stay on at the Grange ? It's all very well now." "I can stay if I choose, but I do not intend to stay. I am working out a little scheme ; at present it does not look very promising, yet I do not despond."

" How did you come to know this Mr. Granard ? he is not much in your line." " It is a long story. You remember wiien I wras at school at Dresden ? It was rather a miserable time ; a pupil teacher's life is not too blissful. Among my schoolfellows wTas Claire Granard, a little quiet, plain, shy creature, the daughter of an Indian officer. At first I liked her well enough. You know I am good natured." Aunt Tony nodded. " With all my ability, howrever — and I am not an incapable — Claire got ahead of me in some things ; finally, and worst of all, our drawing-master, a splendid -looking Hungarian, with whom half the school, myself included, was in love, asked me to grant him a private interview. I managed it of course, but, w-hen we did meet, the idiot made me the confidante of his respectful devotion to the sweet little English saint, my friend, and entreated my good offices.

I soon put an end to that. Not long after I found an engagement in London, and you know how I met Jack : how I thought I had caught a sporting man of high position and large fortune ! How was I to know ? Oh ! my God ! what a life I had with that man ! He was not a bad fellow when sober, but he was a devil wiien he wras drunk. Then his last illness ! " She shuddered, and was silent for a moment. Her aunt shook her head sympathetically, then softly filled and emptied her glass. " Well, when I joined the Thorpes I found their nearest neighbours were Lord and Lady de Walden, of Beaumont Royal. I had heard of the brilliant match Claire Granard had made, and soon managed to meet her. She was certainly gracious, but cold and calm as ever." " It was rather a good find for you, I fancy, Eva." " Well, yes, in more wTays than one.

You see, Mr. Thorpe is a new man in Blankshire. He bought Langford Grange since he was married. Then Miriam, my sister-in-law, is a Repton all over ; she made the Blankshire squires and squiresses open their eyes very considerably, I assure you. Old Thorpe was not a bad sort, but he never found favour with the county ; then he had that severe attack of gastric fever, and dwindled by degrees into a halfsilly invalid ; but Miriam never troubled much about him. When Jack died, I found among his papers a lot of letters tied up and labelled ' correspondence respecting my sister.' I first sent the packet to her, then she came to see me and was desperately anxious to knowr if I had read the letters. I assured her I had not, but I don't think she believed me — any way, she was very kind and liberal and asked me to stay with them ; they wrere hi towTn then.

Some time after, she suggested that I might as well make the Grange my head quarters, and I have been there ever since." " I wonder wiiat was hi those letters ? " " I really do not know ; but they have been of use to me. Still my life at the Grange is uncertain and leaves much to be desired. But Lady de Walden's notice has strengthened my position. Then I have persuaded Miriam to be a little more circumspect, and am credited with her improvement. At Beaumont Royal, where I am occasionally invited, I was intro duced to Lady de Walden's brother, Mr. Granard, and as I had duly impressed on her ladyship my honourable ambition to relieve my friends from the cost of my maintenance, his reverence promised to look out for me. I had no idea he would be so prompt ; indeed he took me at a disadvantage this morning.

Seriously, I could not well leave the Grange at a moment's notice ; but, above all, I want to stay there." " And no wonder. Why should not you gallop about and show off your fine figure on horseback and enjoy yourself ? " " Enjoy myself," repeated Mrs. Repton with bitter emphasis. " Do you believe I ever enjoy myself ? When at any moment I may slip over the brink into an abyss of poverty. When I never dare utter an uncalculated syllable. When I am for ever on the strain to seize all possible advantages, and have to scheme and strive, and divine the foibles of my associates, that I may secure some dry place for the soles of my feet, safe from the flood of failure, wiiich, when a few years have tarnished my looks, will overtake me." She spoke with deep-suppressed passion that made her comfort loving companion move nervously in her chair and relieve her feelings by a loud " hem."

"Never you fear, Eva," she exclaimed cheerfully ; "a creature like you is sure to succeed. Why, haven't you beauty and clever ness and " A hard laugh interrupted her. " I beghi to doubt if they count," said Mrs. Repton. " Look at my interesting pkvymate, Claire. She is small, slight, pale, with weak-looking, strawr-coloured hair ; silent, simple ; her father wras poor — poor for his station ; the Granards are wrell born. But he lived on, his daughter had a respectable home, grand relatives trotted her out, and my Lord de Walden, a young wealthy baron of high degree, met her before he was biased — fell in love with, and married her. Her luck is something preternatural ! Lord de Walden is such a handsome fellow too, not in face, perhaps, though that is not bad ; but a great, tall, broad-shouldered, distinguished-looking man — rather red hair and VOL. i. complexion, pleasure -loving, and full of life ; rides like a centaur and does not knowr wrhat contradiction means ; but a big boy after all.

She might do what she liked with him." " And doesn't she ? " " I don't knowr. I can't find out. He seemed very fond of her," she stopped abruptly. " But, after all, you have never told me what really keeps you hi this place, where you seem to have fallen on your feet." " Do you think, Tony, I tell you everything ? " " No, dear, indeed I do not. Still, what you choose to tell me is quite safe." " I believe that. I believe you are very true to me ; you are the only creature that has ever been khid, disinterestedly kind, to me, and I will never forget it, though I am a bit of a free lance. Ah ! as Becky Sharp says : What a good woman I could be if I had five thousand a year ! " " A very sensible remark. Who is the lady, dear ? I never heard you mention her before." " Oh, a woman moving hi the best society."

" Well, I should not have expected so much sense from her. So you are not going to tell me what your plans are." " No," slowly and undecidedly. " Indeed they are scarcely laid — so much I will tell you, that among the people I met at Beaumont Royal is a certain Stephen Ferrars. He is cousin, first cousin to de AValden and very, very rich ; he rents a hunting box between the Grange and Beaumont Royal. Curiously enough, I used to know him in my husband's time. They had some dealings about horses ; I think Jack tried to do him ; but it is not easy to do Stephen Ferrars. He wras very nice to me, very ; though he is not good-looking and is not generally amiable or agreeable, I liked him ; his quiet respectful manner was balm to the bitterness that enwrapped me, the self-contempt, the hatred of my life.

I thought he rather admired me ; I wras glad to meet him, but I have no idea how it may end." " Well, / have. If you make up your niind, Mr. Ferrars will be nowiiere." " I wish I could agree with you, but there is another ingredient hi the affair on which I will not say anything at present. Why, Tony, it is three o'clock, and the day closes so soon ! I must run away and dress. Did you order a brougham ? I cannot knock about hi cabs such a day as this." " I told Belinda to order one last night ; but I really forgot about it this morning. Belinda, come here ! " and a confused explana tion arose. Finally Mrs. Repton got all she wanted, accomplishing a large amount of shopping, and she wound up the day by treatmg her attached and sympathetic aunt to the dress circle at the Lyceum ; wiiere that kindly woman enjoyed 2-2 sheddhig copious tears over the griefs of Olivia, and Mrs. Repton was saved by her preoccupa tion from bemg drawn into any talk about her plans. The next day she left town in time to reach the Grange as the dressing-bell rang.

Chapter II

" SHADOWS." A few days later October presented a less lugubrious aspect in the charming coquettish city by the Seine. There w^as even a brief spell of mid-day sun, which poured cheerfully into a comfortable bedroom, au second, in a quiet street opening from the Champs Elysees. If the furniture had lost its pristine freshness, it was clean and well preserved, and the only indication of a sleeping apartment wras a large lied, the lace and satin draperies of which made it highly ornamental ; otherwise, large easy chairs, a console and writing and other tables, vases of artificial flowers on the velvet-covered mantelpiece, and others, real and delicately scented, from the hot-house, gave it the air of a scdon . In a chaise longue, his feet reposing on a hassock and carefully covered with a fur rug, reclined an elderly gentleman fast asleep.