Alice Warner. A novel

Chapter I

' She is not a lady ; her people are immensely rich, and she has had a good education. I hear her father was a farmer some few years asso, and that a distant relative died and left him all his wealth ; so you see she is not a lady, but they are pushing themselves into society. ' 'Ah!' says the listener, ' I felt sure she was not of good family ; there is just that something by which one can detect their antecedents. You ahvays can, my dear, with a little study detect these people.' vol. i. What can be more bitter than the criticism of tAvo unmarried ladies, on the wrong side of thirty, with little else than their lineage to boast of — always letting others knovv hoAv they could trace their ancestors to William the Conqueror ; those ancestors losing their lives (and more unfortunate still, losing their fortunes) in all holy causes connected with English history ; and both these descendants doing now their utmost to repair the fallen fortunes of their separate houses by a wealthy marriage.

What, then, could be more bitter than the criticisms of these t\vo representatives of noble martyrs on a young and decidedly handsome woman, blessed with everything this world can possibly bestoAv (except renoAvned ancestors) : an only child, the pet of her parents, whose great ambition is to see her sought after in high circles, where they themselves have never ventured to tread, knoAving they were quite unsuited ? Yes, decidedly handsome she is, standing chatting to an elderly lady ; the cynosure of all eyes, trying her hardest to forget that so many inquisitive glances are levelled at her. She stood the test bravely (so bravely that made one almost doubt if blue blood did not flow in her veins). It was a hard battle to fight : mammas and daughters quizzing her from top to toe, scornful glances from the elder ladies, shrugs of aristocratic shoulder (as if to say, What new importation is this ? something we can at once see that is not to our standard) from the young ladies — all this sensation caused by the entrance of a hand some girl exquisitively dressed, and received affectionately by the hostess.

Now I Avill, with your permission, introduce you to the hostess, Mrs. Colonel Wel beck — a lady in every sense of the word, a woman esteemed in every class for her generosity, good sense, and cheerful manner, a favourite everywhere, with old or young. No slanderous word did she ever utter ; if she could say no good of the person she might 1—2 hear accused, she Avould say no ill. She in vited whom she pleased to her house, and her evening parties were well attended ; no one thought of ever cross-questioning Mrs. Welbeck as to what fresh visitor she might introduce. Thus it was that Alice Warner came to disturb the guests this evening — the ladies with jealousy, the gentlemen with admiration. ' Why, you're a regular beauty to-night, Alice, I do declare,' said old Colonel Wel beck, coming up, who in good-nature was the sac-simile of his wife. ' Won't you ruffle some of the girls' feathers, eh ?' and the old man chuckled as if the sight of ladies in that con dition would afford him great sport. ' I am very proud of my protegee to-night,' said his wife. ' Now, Bob, be off,' she added, ' for I am going to introduce Alice to Lady Lucy Stunheart ;' and she linked her arm through the girl's, and led her away to the further end of the room. ' Oh !' said one of the ladies to her companion, ' I do believe Mrs. Welbeck means introducing that Warner girl to Lady Lucy.

Yes, see, she is moving that way ! Of course, my dear, if Lady Lucy receives her, we must. Dear Lady Lucy is so peculiar in her associates — she takes such violent fancies or dislikes ; but she is almost sure to notice anyone Mrs. Welbeck thinks much of.' - Lady Lucy Stunheart, allow me the pleasure of introducing my dear young friend, Alice Warner. I love both you girls,' she said, in her sweet motherly voice, ' so you must become fast friends, to please me.' The girls boAved to each other, for girls they both were. ' I am delighted to make Miss Warner's acquaintance,' said Lady Lucy, making room on the lounge for her new friend, beside her. And Mrs. Welbeck left them to become better acquainted, and went off to receive fresh arrivals. You must know that Lady Lucy was, like Alice Warner, an only child.

Her father, the Earl of Knotmutch, was poor. His wife, an ambitious Avoman, insisted on her daughter marrying a man much older than herself, indeed old enough .to have been her father. Lucy's heart was given to a young fellow of good family, but not rich ; he had gone to India. And in his absence she had con trived, by threats and entreaties, to marry her daughter to Wilfrid Stunheart, on account of his wealth. What kind of marriage it was likely to prove, may only too easily be guessed. Lady Lucy thoroughly hated her husband, and Avould do anything to annoy him. He was jealous of her, and took every occasion to insult her on the attachment she had once formed. She was one of the most beautiful, bewitching girls ever seen;' and wherever she went, she had a train of admirers. The only fault in her was a settled indifference — something false in her manner; and the wearied Avay in which she would sometimes look in the middle of a flirtation told too plainly of the canker at her heart.

Hand somer than Alice Warner in feature, with a wonderful charm about her few could resist, there lacked that honest cheerful laugh which Avas so pleasant to hear in the other. Nowhere could two more lovely faces be seen than those who sat in conversation side by side on the lounge ; the one with her Avealth of golden hair croAvning her hand some broAA-, and sweet Alice Warner with her true eyes of violet blue, that told of a soul good and pure as an angel's. They soon became friends ; both liked Mrs. Welbeck sincerely, and this one link was soon likely to bring both girls together. But it was not with satisfaction Mr. Wilfrid Stunheart saw his Avife engaged in so friendly a conversation ; and to his able supporter and confidante, the Countess of Knotmutch, he imparted his misgivings. ' Well, my dear Stunheart,' said her lady ship, when he had finished speaking of his wife's new companion, ' you must forbid her making the acquaintance of this girl.' ' It's all very well to say " forbid," 'gloomily answered her son-in-law ; 'but Lucy is ob stinate, and Avill have her OAvn way.' ' I will speak to her,' said the lady-mother, and she drew herself majestically together, as if she entertained no fear of being dis obeyed.

She was a haughty Avoman, with an aquiline nose and cold grey eyes. Perhaps it would be safer to venture no further in describing the countess's charms. The ladies of her acquaintance were apt to say she was entirely false ; of course some part of her Avas real, or she would not have been there ; it was not her hair or teeth, complexion or figure. No chance, as yet, was afforded her lady ship of admonishing her daughter, nor likely to be ; for partners Avere brought to both young ladies for a dance, by the hostess. They were always lively parties here : amusements of every kind — not those stately affairs where no one enjoys them selves. People very seldom refused Mrs. Welbeck's invitations. The music starts, and starts also more scandal among the wall-floAver ladies. Lady Lucy — that inveterate dancer — is obliged to sit down before she has made the round of the room. ' Only a sudden giddiness,' she answers to anxious inquirers.

But it has already got to the ladies (Lord only knows how !) that Lady Lucy's sudden giddiness is owing to the entrance of a gentleman ; that gentleman being recog nised (bless these spinsters' keen sight 1) as a former admirer. With Mrs. Welbeck, he comes up and shakes hands cordially with Lady Lucy. By this time she has quite recovered her former manner, but hardly her looks. The new arrival seems to be well-known and hked; first one and then another recognising him — mammas introducing their daughters, and brothers their sisters. The Countess of Knotmutch gives him but a slight bo\v ; and on her son-in-law's manly bro\v dark clouds gather, indicative of a coming storm, as she whispers — ' Arthur Wraymore.' The countess's curiosity — for, dignified as she is, has her share of that feminine Aveakness — overcomes her, and is soon in close con versation with one of the spinster ladies, and from her hears all about him. ' You knoAA', my dear countess, that Mr. Wraymore Avent to India, to an uncle, who, I believe, has since died, and he is heir.

His uncle was much attached to him, I hear. His mother and sister are out there. What he has come to England for I cannot tell you ; but there is no doubt he is a most fascinating young man, and a great favourite with the young ladies.' This the gentle lady added for Mr. Stunheart's benefit, seeing his eye go round the room in search of his young Avife. ' Perhaps he means marrying,' said the countess. 'I did not know Mrs. Welbeck was acquainted Avith him, Miss Vernon.' ' Colonel Welbeck and his uncle were great friends in India; but you know him well, dear countess, do you not ? of course. At one time he was smitten with Lady Lucy.' ' My daughter had many admirers,' majes tically answered the countess ; but for fear of the lady's sharp tongue, she shook her skirts out, and taking her son-in-law's arm, said she would see if Lucy meant dancing again.

Lady Lucy was holding a miniature court, but the courtiers fled, as soon as they decently could, at sight of husband and mother ; even Lady Lucy's attractions were not sufficient to keep them There seemed to be a kind of partnership between these tAvo ; never, surely, was mother-in-la\v paid so much attention. Rumour said the countess had reason to think so much of him — that Avhen the earl's exchequer was low (and I believe that generally was the case), Mr. Wilfrid Stunheart. Avith a generosity one would hardly expect from him, helped them over any little pecuniary difficulty they might have become entangled in ; while, on the other hand, Lady Knotmutch's watchfulness over her daughter seemed to be taken as repayment. Certainly Lady Lucy was of a rebellious nature — she would if possible go her own road ; and it was j ust probable that, know ing her daughter's wilfulness, the countess thought a hint on this occasion would not be lost.

Giving her son-in-law a sign, whereupon that gentleman immediately commenced a conversation Avith a fat dowasrer next him, Avhich was immensely difficult to keep up, for his conversational poAvers were not of the highest order, and the fat dowager was in tent on another fat doAvager, who wore more jewellery than she did, and her wrath was thereupon kindled. ' Lucy,' says the countess, ' a word of advice : the less you say to Mr. Wray more, the better your husband and myself will like it ; indeed, he prohibits your speak ing to him.' ' Indeed !' was all her daughter's ansAver, as she sat indolently fanning herself. Lady Lucy could put on a careless aggravating air which was intensely annoying. ' Listen to me, Lucy.' 1 1 am listening,' was the reply. ' With your head turned away. Listen to what I have to say.

Your husband insists on your having nothing to say to Mr. Wray more. People are beginning to talk already about you. You know Wilfred will not stand any nonsense.' ' Why does he not tell me so ? Why em ploy you ? Perhaps you will like taking him my answer : I shall do as I please. If I choose to speak to Arthur Wraymore, I shall, AA'ithout anyone's interference. AndLadyLucy gave her mother anything but a loving look.' ' Your conduct is extremely unbecoming. The way in which you treat your husband is scandalous.' ' Very likely.' ' Your conduct is extremely unbecoming,' said the countess, as if she had not been in terrupted ; ' no man in the world will be so treated. You are a thoroughly cold-hearted girl, and I have done with you. Mind, I say from this time I have done with you.' ' Who made me cold-hearted, mother ?

Who forced me to marry the man I most detested ? You — until I consented, you left me not a moment's peace. Heaven only knows what a wretched life I led. I certainly sacrificed my life for you — you benefited by my marriage. Better for me to have had Arthur Wraymore, poor as he was, than have lived the life I have ; for I loved Arthur dearly, and although two years have passed since I lost him, I find I love him still.' ' Shameful — disgraceful ! You are no daughter of mine. Go your own way, Lucy ; I wash my hands entirely of you!' and the countess went through the imaginary process of cleansing her aristocratic hands. Mr. Stunheart having by this time exhausted his stock of knowledge, and the fat doAvager having come to the conclusion that so much jewellery on so stout a person as the lady opposite was vulgar, they seemed by mutual consent to turn their attentions to their next-door neighbours ; the fat dowager to a thin old tremulous gentleman, and Mr. Stunheart to his mother-in-law, just in time to overhear her last remark : ' What does she say ?

I'll knoAv ; now tell me, will you ?' But the mother does not like to ; and her daughter, with all the insolence that she possibly can compress into her lovely face, says : ' You knoAv Avhat mamma has been saying to me, noAV hear the answer I gave her. I shall speak to Mr. Arthur Wraymore Avhen I like, and I have lost none of my old admiration of him.' She did not wait for the coming storm. She rose from her chair, and moved with all her negligent grace to where Alice Warner was sitting. ' This sort of game must end,' said Mr. Stunheart ; ' she shall come none of her tricks. I'll take her to my farm in Scotland ; she'll get no company there, I'll warrant. I've got a little business in hand I am obliged to see to, but it won't take long to finish. I'll break her neck or her spirit.' You Avill observe this gentleman was not of aristocratic lineage ; indeed, the Countess of Knotmutch never troubled about his antecedents (possibly they would have sur prised even her), but under her distinguished patronage he soon had the entree to good society.

She always represented him to her dear friends as such a nice creature, so lovable. Her daughter's welfare was more to her than rank ; but lately he had tried her temper by his bearish ways. It was no use for her ladyship to make signs to her daughter to come back. Lady Lucy sat talking to Alice. ' We will be friends, as dear Mrs. Welbeck said. You will come and see me, and we will have a chat together ; my husband is out generally in the afternoon. I have no real friend, and I should so like one.' Perhaps it was the most artless remark Lady Lucy had made for some time ; but there was something in Alice's sweet face she could like and trust ; and the friendless girl longed for companionship. Alice readily accepted, and a promise was made to be there the following afternoon. Then Lucy turned the conversation to the different people there, telling Alice who she knew, and asking if they were all strangers to her. 2 VOL. I. All except Mr. Wraymore,' answered Alice. ' I have seen him once before.' Then they both sang his praises like a couple of schoolgirls.

How tall he was ; good looking ; not exactly handsome ; beautiful moustache ! Lucy said she could vouch for that, he had kissed her many times. Alice looked shocked. Lucy explained how at one time she was engaged to him, and made to marry her husband. Alice looked the pity she felt. Lucy saw she could trust her, so they talked away to their hearts' content. A dan gerous subject to both of them — fascinating; indeed, Lucy seemed thoroughly enchanted, certainly reckless of her husband's displeasure, if she could but entice Arthur Wraymore to her side ; but he never came near, only when he shook hands ; but still Mr. Wilfrid Stun heart kept a watch for signals that might pass, quite convinced in his jealous mind they understood each other, and that Alice Warner was a kind of go-between. 'Take your fill, my lady, take your fill; very little more of London life you will see ; a nice barren heath, where you may walk till you're tired before you'll see a stranger.

Fool that I was to get into your infernal family ! I might have known I was only wanted for money, and they have managed to screw a nice sum out of me. I'll retrench when we go there ; it's well to be able to show some of these people the silver I can put on my table, when they kick up such a fuss about their old worn-out family rubbish. Con found them ! — I wish I could catch them telegraphing.' The Countess of Knotmutch, Lady Lucy, and her husband soon took their departure. They were charming company as they drove home, Lady Lucy shutting her eyes as if the presence of the others was so odious ; the husband watching wrathfully, and the countess on the alert to stop him, if in his anger he spoke too loud — not for the world would she have the servants hear a quarrel. 2—2 They might suspect domestic bliss did not reign supreme, but they must not be certain. ' I have planned your future, my lady,' said the husband. ' Oh, have you V answered Lady Lucy, carelessly ; ' thanks,' and she shut her eyes again. ' Perhaps you would like to know a little more of my intentions ?' he asked again.

She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. ' I am not a bit inquisitive, but please don't talk to me, I'm thinking.' Nothing could be more exasperating than her cool manner : and there certainly would have been a scene, but for the countess's timely words, ' Wilfrid, take care ; there are the servants.' He was heard to say the servants might go to a very warm locality, but before he could give them any further instructions respecting the place, etc., the carriage stopped at their house. Mr. Stunheart got out and marched in doors, followed by his wife, leaving his mother-in-la\v to be driven to her own home in high dudgeon at his uncivil behaviour, and again having to go through the dumb show of washing her jewelled hands ; whether she meant adhering to this resolution regard ing Mr. Stunheart I do not presume to say — possibly only for a time ; however, he was sentenced, and whether a ticket-of-leave would be granted to him hereafter no doubt would depend on his future behaviour, so the carriage with the grand armorial bearings (about the only thing left to the family), drove on its way, the door being opened by the footman, who assisted her ladyship to alight, ascending the steps to the house in the most stately manner.

Sweet Alice Warner is on her road home in a luxurious carriage, but no bearings embellish the panels. It was one of Mr. Warner's peculiarities ; they would have found him a crest (what won't they find for money?), but he declined ; he was a plain man, he said, with all his riches — he had always borne an honest name, and so had all his family ; but how Avas he to know if he bought a crest how it might have been previously disgraced ? He was proud of his name, and would not change it ; and no one could make him understand he could be found a crest without belonging to any particular family : he associated it with a change of name ; so they became tired of explaining. To Alice such a trifle was of no moment ; she knew there awaited a welcome of far greater pleasure to her than if the carriage had armorial bearings all over it, and the horses themselveshad worn ducal coronets — there was a loving father and mother, to whom she always related the events of the evening, and who were never tired of listening to the sweet voice of their loving and much-loved child.

Chapter II

1 Mother, jest see how our Joe has bin a brushing hisself up, at this time a night too ; one would think he'd got a gal as he was going for to see.' ' Shut up,' growled a voice, ' or you'll know it.' • Why do yer give yerself a hextrer clean, Joe, when you goes round to the 'ouse ?' ' Shut up, I say !' growled the voice again. ' Have done, Sue ; let Joe alone !' said a woman, coming forward. ' Shan't.' The woman made a dash at the speaker with an iron she had in her hand, but, as it happened, fortunately for her, missed her. A happy family — the mother, brother, sister — three faces of the very commonest type. A dismal room, scented well with paraffin ; clothes of all descriptions hanging about, which spoke of washing being done on the premises ; the woman and her daughter both were en gaged in ironing ; a young man standing before a broken glass, as the girl had said, brushing his hair and adding a quantity of oil to give a gloss to it.

Not that he seemed to want it : judging by his face, he was of a greasy nature ; but everyone to their taste. He turned round on hearing the skirmish between the women. ' Let her be, mother, I'll teach her better I'U throttle her.' ' Oh !' said his sister, who was much taller than him, with a fierce gipsy look about her ; ' you'll throttle me, will you, you little under sized varmint V Nothing annoyed him more than the knowledge of being short ; and not being a young man of an angelic temperament, the mention of the fact now was not likely to calm him ; he caught up the poker and per formed some most wonderful evolutions, striking anywhere in his blind rage, his sister warding off the blows with a shovel. How it would have ended I cannot say — one or the other must soon have proved vic torious (the mother was ironing) — had not the entrance of a visitor put a stop to this interesting scene. ' Hullo, I say,' said the new-comer, ' you know this won't do.

Sue, me beauty, what's up to-night with you and Joe ?' ' Now you jest keep quiet,' says the young lady addressed, ' or I'll chuck you out o' winder.' ' I always likes to give in to the opinion of ladies, Sue, me beauty ; but I'm afraid — jest a leetle bit afraid — you'd fail in the hattempt.' The speaker by this time was standing in the middle of the room. He was a youth about sixteen, remarkably small for his age, dressed in livery, and generally knoAvn as a 'tiger;' not at all good-looking — a rather bold face, and an insolent turned-up nose. Boy as he was, he quieted • them ; both sat down, but clutching still their weapons of defence, and glaring savagely at each other. ' I'll be the death of her before I've done,' said Joe. ' Not you,' answered his sister, with a shrill laugh ; ' why, I could take you and Tom and pitch you into the next street, and mother arter you.' ' 'Ave done, you owdacious hussy !' said her parent. ' Bin a-teasing Joe again, I s'pose,' said the boy Tom; 'never mind, me hearty, you'll forget it all when you see her a-smiling on yer to-night.' ' Shut up,' said Joe. ' I'm mum,' answered the boy. ' Time's up,' said Joe ; ' good-night Tom,' and he went out of the crazy old house, shutting the door with a. bang that seemed to shake every portion of it. ' He's a sly one !' said Tom, looking after his friend. ' What's up ?' asked Sue. ' Never you mind,' said the aforesaid young man ; ' I knows vat I knows, and kinsicontly I means to keep that knowledge to myself, d'ye see !' Sue, not being so very keen-sighted, con fessed she did not, upon which the young gentleman told her to put on her barnacles and be quick about it.

Sue was, I am obliged to confess, a bully. She had the credit in the street for being one, and although bullies are usually cowards, it was not the case with her. She had fought nearly all the ladies of her locality, and a great many of the opposite sex ; it was not likely she was going to take quietly this boy's impudence ; she would have taken the opportunity of correcting him at the present time, but her face must have betrayed her, for Tom was ready. As she hit out, so he, AA'ith remarkable agility, dived in and out till she gave up, waiting a more favourable opportunity. ' Now just you keep quiet, Sue ; you knows I hadmires yer greatly — you're what I calls a fine woman, Sue, I'm dashed if yer ain't 1' ' Don't yer bother yer head about my fine ness, Tom Brown ; a child like you should only speak when you're spoken to ; and now I'm a-going to speak to yer, so answer me.

What makes our Joe smarten hisself up for?' ' Catch a weasel asleep,' ansAvered Tom Brown, with a wink ; then, shutting one eye, he went through the imaginary performance of shaving his eyebroAv, but warily watching Sue's movements. ' Tom Brown,' said Sue, ' will you take me for a walk on Sunday ?' Tom, placing his hand on his heart, bowing with all the gallantry he could muster in his small body, replied : ' I 'opes to have that 'ere pleasure, Miss 'Ogg !' ' Now, no nonsense ; do you mean it, Tom V asked Miss Hogg. ' Why, Sue, me beauty, in course I does ; my eye ! won't all the blooming men get in a rage when they sees this 'ere hindividual a coming along with a six-feeter on his arm.' Mother Hogg, turning to the woman : ' 'Ave you got a drop of somethink in the 'ouse, jest to keep the cold out V ' Drat that child's imperdence !' said the woman, with a grin ; ' he ought to be in bed.

I wish we had got somethink to drink.' ' Well then, ladies, I will pay a visit to the Three Bells ; hexpect me shortly — hadjew.' ' Sue,' asked the woman, ' what game are you playing with this boy ? You'll git yerself and Joe both in a fix, if yer don't look out.' 'I'll knoAv Avot game he's got on. Tom knows it, and I'll have it out of the child. Joe always thinks hisself cleverer than a most people ; if he'd told me in a 'onest sort a way, as a brother should, I'd a 'acted 'onest to him. He can't keep much from me.' Then this honest young female sat down in a kind of lump on a rickety chair, and crossing her arms, seemed to be nursing her indignation. Mother Eve ! Mother Eve ! a true child, this ! Curiosity was the ruin of you and your family ; curiosity will, if not checked, in due time bring trouble here.

How strange it is, you will often hear girls of all ages say to one another, ' Feel this bump over my eye,' ' Feel this bump on the top of my head ;' and they AviU generally explain them as the bump of beauty, the bump of knowledge ; but they never seem to be acquainted with the bump of inquisitiveness, and yet I would venture to say in most females, high or low, it's a bump of great magnitude — therefore, make an allowance for Sister Sue, who had fully her share. Tom Brown soon came back Avith a bottle under his arm. Then the kettle was put on, and they all tasted the something hot, and neither being able to give an opinion as to the quality of the something hot, they had to taste again ; then they must drink Tom's health, and assure him he was a brick and ' knoAved ' how to treat a friend, and Sue winding up the speech by declaring he was a 'reglar hout-and-houter.' No doubt this flattering toast was very sooth ing to the boy's feelings, and in returning thanks to the ladies he spoke of his admiration of the younger ; not the slightest doubt it was agitating to his nerves — indeed, his feelings entirely overcame him, and he was observed to weep copiously.