Settling Day. A sketch from life

Front matter

a from JLtfe ey SOPHIE ARGENT " O, that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come ! But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known." , Shakspeare. gonlum T. FISHER UNWIN 26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. DOLLY I II. DOLLY'S

LETTER 12 III.

A FRIEND IN NEED 1 8 IV. A FLOWER SHOW AT LYMPTON ... 22 V. AT HIGH BEACH 35 VI. EAGLE ROCK 41 VII. ARTHUR DALY 50 VIII. MISUNDERSTANDING 56 IX. LEFT IN THE TOILS 63 X. DOLLY'S RESOLVE 66 XI. THE COMET 77 XII. NEWS FROM THE RUNAWAY .... 88 XIII. ON BOARD THE "RED COMET" .... 92 XIV. JACK WENTWORTH'S TROUBLE . . . 100 XV. A FIGHT WITH DESPAIR IO, XVI. BULLS AND BEARS II3 XVII. IN NEW YORK 121 XVIII. WITH THE TULLYS I28 CONTENTS. VI CHAP. * PAGE XIX. A CHANGE FOR DOLLY 135 XX. JACK HAS AN IDEA !42 XXI. A DIFFICULT SEARCH r46 XXII. A CLUE '53 XXIII. TULLY AND HIS VICTIM . . • • .163 XXIV. A VISIT TO NIAGARA 172 XXV. JACK AT FAULT '88 XXVI. DOLLY MEETS A FRIEND . . . . 194 XXVII. A FINAL SETTLING DAY '

Chapter I. Dolly

" A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet." J. G. WHITTIER. " I really think the old doctor vvas more prosy than ever this morning ; don't you, Jack ? " " Yes, Dolly, and the thought struck me while we were in church that, if we cannot treat your friend, Miss Harcourt, to any great novelty at Lympton, we can at least show her something quaint in the shape of a parson, a " " Steady, Jack; I won't have you make fun of the doctor ; he certainly is peculiar ; but you must re member that for the last fifty years he has been shrivelling up in this hole, and that his mind has shrunk like the kernel in a nut, until it is rather small ; but, after all, he is not a bad old sort." " Really, Dorothea ! I am shocked to hear you speak in such a way of our most reverend friend, the vicar, and I must say I was grieved — yes, my love, deeply grieved — at the extreme levity manifested by you and our young friend John during the service this morning."

" Oh, I know when you mean, papa ; Jack looked across to me when Mrs. Dixon gave each of those poor little wretches a thump on their heads, because they were not sitting with their mouths wide open, listening to the sermon." "Yes, Dolly; and did you see Mrs. Skipwell dance up the aisle, dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and looking so sanctimonious you could almost see the words, ' My dear departed angel,' written in her face ? " " Stop, young sir ! I would have you remember that the lady you are speaking of is a most esteemed friend of mine ; and I must request that in future you and Dorothea will conduct yourselves with more decorum on the Sabbath, and express your opinion of my friends with less decision." " I say, Dolly, what ails the governor ? He has a little more starch than usual this morning in his composition.

You don't mean to say " MR. NORTHCOTE. 3 The end of this hurried sentence was destined to remain unspoken, as our trio came to a narrow part of the road, with a gate leading into a field ; there the elder -gentleman stopped, and while they are looking at the scenery, or rather resting after their long pull up the hill, I will take the opportunity of introducing them to the reader. Mr. Northcote (we must give him precedence on account of seniority) is quite a middle-aged gentle man ; he has a slight limp in his walk, which he tries hard to prevent being noticed ; always carries a very handsome cane, which he swings about in rather a jaunty manner. His great delight is in hearing his own voice, which is perhaps in the least degree prosy (this is what the Lympton people say). You seldom meet him but he has some new invention to talk about, something very startling; his idea being that every body must be as much interested in his hobby as he is himself.

He has another peculiarity. Having met with some misfortune in his early youth, he has lost the sight of one of his eyes, which gives a stranger a most uneasy feeling ; for one eye is apparently fixed upon him, with a stern, immovable expression, whilst the other dances about in a very inquisitive manner. He is sharp, active, passably clever ; has an idea no one can equal him in shrewdness ; is very open to flattery, more so than the generality of men (and that is saying a great deal). He is fond of his daughter Dolly, so long as she does not interfere with his pursuits ; professing a great deal more than he really means, and actually believ ing in his professions. Now to describe our heroine. Dolly Northcote cannot be called a beautiful girl. Certainly not. She is about middle height, with an exquisite figure, not the sort that is approved of at the present day.

The modern " good figure " has a waist like a wasp, and arms all elbows ; in fact, is as much like a stuffed pincushion as it is possible to look. No, my Dolly is all suppleness, and quite at ease in any position. She can climb a five-barred gate, scramble over rocks, and row a boat as well as any boy. In short, she is as nature made her, not distorted by the trammels of art. She has a fresh, ruddy com plexion, bright, sparkling eyes, a face full of expres sion, changing with every emotion of her heart ; a fearless face, one that declared its owner would scorn to do a mean action, or to tell a lie. She is sadly impulsive, and in consequence my poor Doro thea is blamed for many faults she does not possess. I fear Dolly sees the ridiculous side of human nature far too quickly; she cannot help being satirical some times, although this is not proper, I know, for a DOLLY. 5 young lady only just eighteen.

Her mother died when she was ten years old, and with the exception of having had the very slight control of a governess for a few years, she has been left pretty well to her own resources ; her father being too much occupied with some wonderful inventions, which are to give his name to posterity. If she be ready to preside at his dinner table, play and sing to him during the evening, he takes little heed of her doings during the day. And Dolly does enjoy herself, scrambling about the cliffs, her dress torn to shreds, her beauti ful chestnut hair tossing about her face in wild confusion. She does not take her pleasure alone, when she can get Jack Wentworth to accompany her, which you may be sure is as often as he can. Lympton folks begin to comment on Miss Northcote's behaviour, and think it high time she adopted the manners of a proper young lady.

Alas ! poor Doll)', when will that be ? The third person of our trio is Mr. John Went worth, junior, or, as he is always called by Dolly and his familiar friends, Jack. He is a fine young fellow of about three and twenty, over six feet in his stock ings (but I believe he wears socks), broad-shouldered, upright, firmly made, with large, well-shaped hands and feet ; a fair complexion that has been tanned to a deep red from e.xposure to the sun ; blue eyes that look you full in the face ; and bright chestnut hair that falls in curls over his forehead. Intellect and firmness are written in every line of his countenance. Our story opens on one bright June morning, and the conversation reported took place while walking home from church. Lympton (for I must introduce the reader to the place as well as to the people) is most charmingly situated on the south coast of Eng land, on the shore of a beautiful bay.

The coast viewed from Lympton breakwater is magnificent ; the lofty cliffs on each side abound in picturesque ness and grandeur, and these with the extensive stretch of seaboard, have frequently suggested a comparison with the Bay of Naples. In days gone by Lympton was a mercantile town of no little importance. It had its custom house, harbour, docks, and wharves, with all the usual appendages ; but for years and years the shipping trade has been gradually dying away, until at last the poor little port has lost all its pretensions to commerce, and now in geographical phraseology only ranks under the name of a creek. The principal or High Street is situated on a steep declivity; when standing at tbe top, and looking down towards the sea, one could not imagine it possible for a vehicle proceeding at any pace beyond a crawl to avoid coming to grief.

Strangers hold their breath LYMPTON. 7 and stand in terror when the Lympton Omnibus (for the rail is six miles distant) comes lumbering down, with luggage piled high on its top, the outside pas sengers looking dreadfully frightened and holding on like grim death. But what a lovely view many people have enjoyed from the top of that rumbling old conveyance ! What a drive from the railway station to Lympton ! such a glorious panorama of hill and valley ; the white cottages dotted about here and there ; the scent of wild thyme ; the hedges one mass of flowers ; but when the view of the sea first breaks upon the traveller's vision it is a scene simply indescribable. The blue cliffs, the deep blue of the water, the beautiful bay that has been compared to that of Naples; the quaint old town looking as though it were just tumbling into the sea, with its weather beaten church standing in its midst ; the pretty villa residences, covered with roses, myrtle, and clematis, which fill the air with such delicate perfume combined with the invigorating sea breezes, that it gives one a feeling of heartfelt thankfulness to the Creator of this most beautiful world of ours.

I cannot do justice to the loveliness of this charming little village by the sea. I make a great mistake ; I should say town, for Lympton boasts of a Mayor and Corporation. A fine sight it is to see the chief civic functionary, with his attendant satellites, marching solemnly into church. This important event comes off about once every three months, and is always duly recorded, with fitting minuteness of detail, in the local papers. How often, in th.e height of the season, when Lympton Church has been thronged with visitors, have Jack and Dolly been convulsed with internal laughter to see the strangers, perfectly unconscious of what is going to take place, instead of waiting until the chief magistrate and his brother officers had, with solemn step and slow, marched down the aisle, become inextricably mixed up with the procession ; the discomfort and annoyance depicted upon their countenances being too ludicrous not to be appreciated by mischievous Dolly and her partner in fun.

By this time our trio have reached the top of the hill. Mr. Northcote pauses and holds out his hand to Jack, but does not, according to custom, invite him to join them at luncheon. " Give my compliments to your father, John. I suppose we shall see you during the week ? " With that he turns, and enters his own gate. Dolly follows him in amazement, but she has only gone a few steps when she turns round, and rushes back to Jack, who is standing in the middle of the road, FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 9 says something to him hurriedly, and then follows her father into the house. Her foot is on the second stair (she generally ascends them two at a time) when she is arrested by these words — " Dorothea. I wish to speak with you in my study." Now, strange as it may appear, those few words caused Dolly more consternation than any her father could have uttered ; she felt something was wrong, for only on one or two occasions had she been bidden to enter that room to be spoken to, and with it she connected the saddest part of her life.

Once, on the death of her mother eight years ago ; and, again, when it was decided that her much-loved governess was to leave her, and she was to go to a finishing school : so she was, in a measure, prepared for trouble, but not for what she heard. The first words her father said were these : " Dolly, my pet " (here was another wonder, he never called her Dolly except when greatly agitated), " what had you to say to young Wentworth that I might not hear?" " Oh, papa dear, don't say that. I only ran back to tell him I would be at the second stile in the Holmbush at half-past three." " Well, Dorothea, that brings me to what I have to say to you. For some time past I have noticed, and certain friends in the town have remarked it to me, that your manners and appearance are far from what my daughter's ought to be.

Don't interrupt me, my child. I am not blaming you in any way. You require guidance, female guidance; a companion who could stand in the place of your dear mother to you. I have long felt that this house needs a mistress ; ah, Dolly, I know what you would say, that you have done your best, and so you have — so you have ; but Mrs. Skipwell says " " Oh, papa, don't mention that horrid woman's name. I love you, and only you. Tell me what you wish to see me alter in and I will try to improve ; I will indeed." This was said with a sob that bade fair to have many followers. " Now, Dolly, you know how I hate scenes, tears, and all that folly. Why, pray ? Because I am going to tell you the opinion of a lady for whom I have the greatest respect. I have much benefited by her advice, not only on such a trifling occasion as this, but frequently with regard to my researches."

Dolly was by this time sobbing as though her heart would break ; she felt what was coming, and although she knew her father was waiting for her to make a remark, her tongue seemed glued to her mouth. AN ANNOUNCEMENT. 1 1 Mr. Northcote continued — " Well, Dorothea, after mature consideration I have asked this lady to give us the continued assistance of her valuable help in both our needs, and she has consented to be my wife. Now, Dorothea, I hope you are grateful for what I am doing for you. I am not thinking of filling your dear mother's place on my account, but entirely on yours. We do not intend to keep up two establish ments longer than is necessary ; besides, Mrs. Skipwell thinks you must be needing companionship sadly, which I had never thought of, so we intend being married in about a month from this.

Mrs. Skipwell is coming up on Tuesday, after the flower show, to suggest any alterations she may deem advisable in the house, and I need not say I wish you to receive her with due respect. I have said all I wish ; now go, and prepare for luncheon."

Chapter II

dolly's letter. "What is a letter? Let affection tell, A tongue that speaks to those who absent dwell A silent language uttered to the eye, Which envious distance would in vain deny, A link to bind where circumstances part, A nerve of feeling stretched from heart to heart. Formed to convey, like an electric chain, The mystic flash, the lightning of the brain, And thrill at once, through its remotest link, A throb of passion by a drop of ink." — ANON. Wtithout a word or a look poor Dolly left the room, and this time as she ascended the stairs it was one at the time. When she reached the top she turned to a door on her right, opened it, and entered the apartment. It was a moderate-sized bedroom, neatly and prettily furnished, the brightest and most cheerful in the house. One window looked over the sea, and from the other, on the right side, there was a fine view of the cliffs, which were now in all their glorv, covered with myriads of blossoms, and the green turf as soft and smooth as velvet ; for these, DOLLY'S

LETTER. 13

unlike the generality of cliffs, were verdant to their very brink, and a sight worth travelling many miles to see. But Dolly's state of *mind, just then, did not allow her to admire her favourite view, and, for all the comfort her picturesque surroundings gave her, she might have been in a dingy London "third floor back." Her first action on entering the room was to throw herself into a low chair by the window, take off her hat, and begin to cry. But she did not pro ceed very far with that exhilarating occupation, for she is a brave little woman, and not naturally of a lachrymose disposition. A bright thought seemed to strike her. It ran thus : " I will write to Marion." The thought no sooner came than she hastened to put it into execution. She rose hastily, crossed the room to a chest of drawers on the opposite side, and from one of them took out a neat little writing-case, wheeled a small round table up to the window, opened her desk, and wrote as follows: — " Highbeach, " Sunday Morning.

" My very dear Manny, — I am wretched, miserable, and alone. That, I know, dear, will be sufficient explanation to you of such an unusual occurrence as receiving two letters from me in one week. Let me see; I wrote on Friday asking you to take pity on me, and spend a few weeks with us after all your gaiety, and now more than ever I want you. But there, how silly I am ! I have not told you about my trouble yet. Papa is going to be married again, and to such a horrid woman. He says that it is all for my good ; that people have been talking about me, and a lot more rot that I can't tell you. (I daresay you will think I am very vulgar, but who could help using slang under such provocation ?) She proposed to papa (for I am certain he never proposed to her) over something scientific. She must have done so, as papa says she ' has assisted him in his researches ; ' but I don't believe she knows anything about science ; she is as ignorant as — as — well — as I am.

But I must tell you who she is. Do you remember Mr. Sheppard (the ' weather prophet ' as you used to call him), who lives at that pretty house on the Little Lympton Road ? Mrs. Frances Skipwell (that's her name; she's a widow) is his sister. She came to Lymp ton last autumn, and has been trying hard ever since to get a husband ; and to think that my dear old dad should have fallen into the trap. There is to be a flower-show on Tuesday in the vicarage grounds, and she is coming up afterwards to ' suggest any alterations,' if you please ! But she won't alter me, I can tell her. I will lead her a nice life, and no mis take. They are to be married in a month's time. WIDOW SKIPWELL. 15 Oh, Manny, Manny, what shall I do ? Just think of my dear little mother's place being filled by that woman! You remember mamma, don't you, Marion?

You and Jack are the only two people I can ever speak to of her now. You will come to me before this dreadful thing happens, won't you, dear, and remain with me while they are away ? You know what a lot of good you always do me; I really feel better for having told you all about it. There is the lunch bell ringing, I must go. Do let me have a line from you soon, to say when we may expect you. " Good-bye, darling. " Ever your loving " Dolly. Having hurriedly finished the above, folded and ad dressed it to " Miss Harcourt, Harley Street, Caven dish Square, London," Dolly proceeded to make herself presentable for luncheon. Dolly entered the dining-room, and took her accus tomed place at the head of the table. She was out wardly composed save for a very red face, caused, I fear, by a strong determination to lead the future Mrs. Northcote " a nice life, and no mistake," for sudden lively resolutions of that kind are apt to dis turb one's equanimity.

A close observer would have noticed a look of pain for one instant pass over the bright young face as the thought came that this, her rightful place, was so soon to be usurped by a stranger. But lest our heroine should be condemned without a hearing, as being undutisul to her father, and prejudiced against the lady of his choice, we must plead as her excuse a highly excitable nature, given to strong likes and dislikes. Unhappily on this occasion it was one of the latter. The object of her aversion, Mrs. Frances Skipwell, was a widow, her husband having departed this life about three years previous to her appearance at Lympton. He had been a captain in the army, and during their sojourn in India was attacked by sunstroke which, acting on a naturally delicate constitution, soon carried him off.

He left his widow no property, so she had only a small pension for her maintenance. Mrs. Skipwell was very fond of talking of her late lamented husband in terms of the warmest affection, eulogizing him as " My sweet departed saint," " My darling Willie," " My pretty pet," etc. Fortunately, no one at Lympton had known the late Captain Skipwell, or certainly they never could have associated him with the terms of loving admiration with which his widow adorned his memory. For he decidedly had no claims to be called pretty, having been a freckled little man, with fiery red whiskers; and his temper was not the kind we generally attribute to a saint. WIDOW SKIPWELL. 17 Mrs. Grundy did say he occasionally threw his boots at his darling Fanny when he was particularly " out of sorts ; " but perhaps Mrs. Skipwell thought that a pretty little playful way he had of showing his affec tion to his "pretty ickle girl," as she always called herself.

Our charming widow had been staying at Lymp ton about six months when this story commences ; she had thrown off her weeds, and now appeared in the most juvenile of dresses. She was young (she called herself twenty-four ; she might possibly have been thirty -four), she was gushing, so sweetly innocent of the ways of this wicked world, and, oh ! so in need of a protector. Not that she could ever think of marrying again, oh ! impossible; the image of her beloved Willie was always before her. But, in spite of all these protestations, some of the Lympton people were wicked enough to say she came there expressly to get another husband. Now can you forgive our Dolly, who was as open as the day, hating the petty deceptions of this woman's life ? The luncheon was over; it had been quieter even than usual, for Dolly had not yet schooled herself to talk of the coming change in their household, and Mr. Northcote was in a dream : whether of some new invention, or of the charms of his lovely Frances, who could say ?

Chapter III

A FRIEND IN NEED. "Ye listen tothe voice of complaint, and whisper the language of comfort."— TUPPER. The old church clock had just chimed a quarter to four, and any one passing the stile leading to the Holmbush Fields would have heard, although it was Sunday afternoon, somebody whistling an air from " Madame Angot ; " and on looking round the corner would have seen our friend Jack Wentworth cutting off all the blossoms osthe buttercups and daisies that grew within his reach with his cane, which he was idly swinging to and fro. He was waiting for Dolly at their usual rendezvous, and wondering what could possibly be keeping her. He was beginning to get very impatient. Half an hour (he had been there before his time) is a long while for a young man to wait who is not accus tomed to it. Thinking something must be wrong, he had just made up his mind he would call and hear, " in spite of the old boy being grumpy this morn- AN OFFER. 19 ing," when round the bend of the road he saw Dolly coming slowly towards him.

Her first words were not an apology for being late; that never seemed to occur tc her, but — " Oh, Jack, I want you to run down the town and post this letter for me ; you know papa won't send any this afternoon, and I want Marion to get this in the morning." Now, had she first said she was sorry she was late, or something of the sort, Jack.would have gone, as he would have expressed it, " like a bird," but now he was cross. But when he caught sight of Dolly's flushed face, and perhaps a slight redness in her eyes and nose — for she was not one of those fortunate beings who can cry, be it never so little, without those becoming signs appearing — he exclaimed — " Why, little woman ! what's the matter ? " " Oh, Jack, I'm so miserable. I must tell you all about it ; but you will post my letter afterwards, won't you ?

"7 " Of course I will ; but look sharp, and tell me what's the row." Dolly then related all that the reader already knows of her trouble with many slang embellishments to suit her audience, and ended with — "Now, Jack, what am I to do? I shall quarrel with that woman. I can't teach ; I don't like brats. What am I to do ? " SETTLING DAY. 20 Whether it was pity, or her appealing to him for advice, or whether he had really loved his little playfellow all along (I am inclined to believe it was the last reason), Jack put his arm round her and said, in a much quieter tone than usual, " Dolly, I see a way." »l " Oh, Jack, I knew you would ; what is it ? " And in looking up in his face she must have seen he had put his arm round her, for she quietly moved away. " Can't you guess, little woman ? I will take care of you.

We have been so happy together. Won't you trust yourself to me ? You know, darling, there is no one I love as I do you, and " "Why, Jack, have you only just found that out, you stupid old owl, you ? A woman may not marry her grandfather. One must draw the line some where, and if you talk such utter nonsense as that to me again, I'll — I'll — well, I won't be friends with you at all." This was said with a laugh so genuine that it quite checked Jack's first trial at love-making; for, like many other young men, he had a horror of being ridiculed, and from long experience he knew Dolly to be mistress of that art. They walked on for some time in silence, Dolly congratulating herself that she had nipped that non- MARION. 21 sense in the bud ; for, she argued, it would never do for her to lose dear old Jack as a friend, and he would not be half so nice if he were to develope spoony propensities.

At last she said, looking up quite naturally, as if they had only been talking of the weather — " I say, Jack, that letter I gave you is to tell Marion about papa, and I think now, more than ever, she is sure to come. It is so unfortunate you have always been away when she was here. When quite a little girl she was such a favourite with dear mamma, and since the year I was at school with her at Miss Dressington's we have been greater friends than ever. She was ' presented ' last year, and knocked herself up with gaiety; so was obliged to go to Germany for three months in the autumn for her health ; but she promised faithfully to come to us this summer, and I am going to keep her to her word. Now, Jack, I want you to like her very much for my sake, and I am sure you will, for, although she will strike you as being rather stately and proper, after me, when once you know her, she is the dearest old thing imagin able." By this time they had reached the road, and after reminding Jack again of her letter, with a farewell pinch, Dolly hurried home.