Mrs. Arnold. A novel

Front matter

MRS. ARNOLD. A NOVEL. BY DENIS ARKWRIGHT. " Oh, fallen and forsaken ! Was no heart, Amid that throng, mindful of what had been ? Hearts such as wait on beggar'd royalty, Or fearless watch by sinners in despair ?" George Eliot. (The Spanish Gipsy.) LONDON : J. MASTERS AND CO., 78. NEW BOND STREET. 1891. LONDON : PRINTED BY J. MASTERS AND CO., ALBION BUILDINGS, S. BARTHOLOMEW CLOSE. DEDICATED TO E. K. AND THE FRAGRANT MEMORY OF A. K. WITH GRATEFUL AFFECTION. MRS. ARNOLD.

Chapter I

"Our acts, our angels, are for good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still." John Fletcher. "TWO young men were sitting over a rather late breakfast at an hotel in a West of England town. The elder was a tall sunburnt man with bushy reddish hair. The physique of the younger was slighter, and his stature was less. His complexion had an almost girlish bloom. Yet the mouth and chin under the light brown moustaches were firm as well as delicate in outline. There was perhaps a certain restlessness in the large dark grey eyes, but the brow above betokened uncommon intellectual power. "You don't get on with your breakfast, Arnold," observed his companion, looking suddenly up from his newspaper. " I am out of sorts this morning," replied the other wearily, and pushing aside his scarcely tasted coffee cup.

" I say, Townsend, could I have some sherry and bitters ?" Ralph Townsend turned, gave the order to a waiter, and then said in a lower tone, " It's a bad habit though, Arnold, at this hour." " My dear fellow, I've seen you do the same." " How often have I reminded you that our heads are different in that respect ?" B MAS. ARNOLD. 2 "Not in that alone, as I think we found at Oxford," retorted Hubert Arnold. The shaft went home, and Townsend read his paper for a little time in rather hurt silence. But, too generous to be angry with an impecunious friend, he looked up before long to remark, " Arnold, listen to this : ' We are informed that a lady in the charming neighbourhood of W , dis penses charity with a most liberal hand. A breakfast is supplied every morning to everybody, nor, we believe, is a deaf ear turned by the generous hostess if further kindness is soli cited.

Delightful as it is to come across so much benevolence and freshness of feeling in an arid world, we would yet venture to suggest to our Lady Bountiful that indiscriminate charity has always been liable to abuse. She may one day be startled to find that she has been giving aid to rank impostors or un blushing criminals.' " "A happy thought, Townsend," exclaimed Hubert. "Sup pose we present ourselves to this eccentric female. There wouldn't be much imposture on my part," he went on with a sudden change of tone, " for I don't suppose any poor devil who has begged a breakfast of her is in a worse plight than myself." " You have not told me yet how you turned up here," remarked Townsend gravely. " Why, I was sent down to write about Roffenham Cathe dral. I wish all restoration was like that. It is glorious, the very essence of mediævalism caught in a wonderful manner.

It really made one believe in what old Plutarch says : The splendour of religious art should help us to realize in some degree in this dark prison-house of the flesh that 'invisible beauty' of which he speaks. Do you remember ?" Townsend looked up with an odd expression in which per plexity perhaps prevailed. " No, I'm afraid I don't," he replied slowly. " Did you write about this restoration ?" " I did. I worked up the whole subject, the history of the Cathedral, the scope and nature of its restoration, down to the MA'S. ARNOLD. 3 grand function of the re-opening, I did it thoroughly, I believe I may say I did it well." " I don't doubt it," replied the other quietly. " But it was a grind to get it all up, and the weather was trying, and so it happened that once or twice I was rather late about sending up the papers.

Old Hervey sent me a furious telegram, and of course I couldn't stand that. The next thing I heard from the office was that my services were no longer required. Why, any soulless drudge could be punctual ! But without vanity, the articles I wrote on Roffenham were not such as any other member of the staff could have written." "Very likely. Still, I suppose a newspaper is 'nothing if not punctual.' I'm very sorry though. Did you think of finding any new opening here ?" " Hardly, but I ran over, being so near, to see some people of mine, two aunts — but I find they have joined my uncle abroad, and have all gone to the Riviera. They have taken a cousin of mine with them, the old ladies' favourite niece, rather a pretty girl. A happy family party I should say they must be !" he went on with a strong touch of bitterness.

"Of course it never entered into the head of any of the four that I might like a trip to the Riviera too !" Poor fellow ! it was sad to note the careworn look that crept into the delicate youthful features, while the shabby careless dress told of finances at a very low ebb. Saddest of all was it to mark the feverish eagerness with which another glass was drained. Townsend went to the sideboard, and returned with a few delicately cut slices of cold beef. "Come, Hubert, perhaps this will suit you better than the game pie. You must eat it, and then we'll have a cigar and see what can be done." The decided manner took effect. With a compliment on his friend's carving, Hubert Arnold wandered off into remi niscences of College days, and the high table. Meantime his plate was cleared. He was talking gaily by the time the cigars were lighted, and the two started for a walk.

MAS. ARNOLD. 4 A great many changes and disappointments had been crowded into that short life. Yet its outer history is soon told. His father was a gentleman of good family, who had entered the Indian army in the palmy days of the Company. He was cut off by cholera in his early prime, while Hubert was yet an infant, leaving a widow and two children. The mother died when Hubert was fifteen, after a brave struggle with a narrow income and insidious disease, leaving her children but scantily provided for. The daughter, a few months before, had gone to India, to secure the continuance of her orphan's pension ; according to an ingenious device of the old Company's in those days to obtain English wives for its officers. Lucy fell in very promptly with the wishes of that honour able body. A little too promptly, indeed, the aunt in India thought, who had her own plans for her niece.

Captain West was certainly well born and rather handsome, and though many years older than his wife, still young, with a fresh com plexion, good features, bright brown eyes somewhat like an animal's, and thick curling hair that partly hid the narrow tem ples. But he was undeniably dull, and possessed the strong will which, with persons of his mental calibre, is apt to become nothing higher than brute force. A lucrative though not brilliant staff-appointment obtained through family interest, kept him stationary for many years. But to return to Hubert. He remained at the school where he had been a day-scholar until his mother's death, and where it had been her last wish that he should remain. It was a private school in the town where they had lived for some years before her death. The master was a man who possessed many qualifications for the office, but he was too much of a student, and avoided society too persistently, ever to be a man who would get on well in the world.

Mrs. Arnold, however, who was beginning to see life with the clear gaze of those whose time on earth is short, understood him, and trusted him thoroughly. The boy's guardian (his father's only surviving brother) re spected the mother's wishes, but on his return to the West, MRS. AANOLD. 5 after many years of hard work spent in India, was too much absorbed in the pleasures of European travel and various family concerns to take a very lively interest in his nephew. He gave a careless consent to his competing for a scholarship at Oxford, on the principle that it could do no harm. To the great surprise of all except his master — -and even he had scarcely hoped so much from a first attempt — the boy won the scholarship. His uncle's manner towards him from this date was an odd mixture of genuine pride and excessive fear lest his nephew should become unduly elated or extravagant.

He did his best to encourage such faults by adding to his scholarship a sum which, when all was told, came to an amount that only economy and experience could have made sufficient to live upon at Oxford • he let the proud, sensitive boy struggle through contempt and obscurity without ever visiting or recognizing him, and contented himself with writing moral exhortations, couched in a severe uncompromising tone, from a convenient distance. The boy chafed under the neglect and the tone of superiority, and avenged himself by slighting the advice, which in the main was really good. But he exerted his great powers, and after a period of eclipse and depression gained more than one of the highest prizes of the University, and found himself in an assured position with brilliant prospects. He lectured, wrote, studied law, philosophy, and letters ; his sparkling wit and fine-edged sarcasms, if they had made him enemies in Oxford, were better appreciated by the graceful leaders of London society.

Hubert became a social as well as a literary success, until a dimness came — no one could tell how, or where — over all this brilliance. Hints of extravagance, of unsatisfactory work, of all that is meant by the vague word " unsteadiness," began to circulate and gather strength. The swift Avernian descent is a trite schoolboy's proverb. Never was it more emphatically fulfilled than in Hubert Arnold's case. Difficulties and entanglements increased, and with them the fatal tendency to drown care and seek stimulus in alcohol. He really drank far less than many men who are apparently none the worse for it. But his finely strung brain and delicate organization betrayed him all too quickly. Acquaintances were scandalized, doors once eagerly opened were now coldly closed against him. One source of income after another failed.

Ralph Townsend had been his companion both at school and at college. Of respectable, but not shining, abilities he had always good-naturedly protected the small, slight schoolboy, three years his junior. Although not at the same college, they had often met, and had been generally on the most friendly terms. Hubert never forgot the day when Ralph rescued him from a big rough schoolfellow who was subjecting him to the torture of holding him off his feet by the hair. A home, in any real sense, he had never had since his mother died. He and Ralph occasionally spent part of their vacation together. This he naturally found pleasanter than being quartered upon unwilling relations. He could be the most delightful of companions. But latterly Ralph had more than once felt bound to remonstrate. Hubert had been hotly resentful, and too ready, as we have seen, to remember that he was intellectually Ralph's superior.

And thus a partial estrangement followed. They had seen nothing of each other for more than a year, and had now met accidentally at the same hotel, when Ralph, very much concerned, not to say shocked, at the signs of decadence in Hubert, had promptly insisted on becoming his host. During their talk he proposed, under certain conditions, to discharge his friend's score at the hotel, and retain him for a few days longer as a guest. The removal of immediate anxiety, and the pleasure of com panionship, made Hubert almost as gay and brilliant as of old at the table-d'hote dinner that evening. Ralph, who had been thinking in what manner least offensive to Hubert's pride he could propose visiting a tailor, was rather surprised at his per fect ease of manner. But he was kind-hearted enough to feel glad of it, and indeed soon began to find himself as much fascinated as formerly with Hubert's conversation.

It happened that in describing some transaction connected with journalism, Hubert, warming with his subject, spoke of its reflecting "eternal discredit" on those responsible for it. A thin solemn-looking man, with a short and scanty beard, which gave him an odd sort of resemblance to a goat, who sat opposite to Hubert, and wore a quaintly made suit of black, observed in a slow, grave voice with a strong provincial twang, " Sir, I object to so solemn a word as ' eternal' being lightly used." " I am not aware that my friend asked for your opinion," remarked Townsend drily; but in reality wishing to prevent a fiery retort from Arnold, who however to his astonishment, answered with graceful frankness : " Perhaps you are right. A word of such awful meaning should be consecrated to religious uses.

Though, I assure you, I meant no levity." " I quite believe you, sir," replied the other. " It is a privilege to speak a word in season to one so ready to receive it." The two entered into a friendly conversation. Townsend, feeling himself de trop, walked away to smoke a cigar. In about half-an-hour he was joined by Arnold, who asked, " Why did you vanish so quickly ?" " Your friend was rather too much for me," replied Townsend, pushing across the table a box of Spanish cigars. " These are mine, they are better than our host's, I think you will find. I fancy I have heard you tolerably severe on cant in all its forms." " That man didn't cant, Townsend. He may be an oddity, but he is an honest fellow, and as such I respect him." Ralph took the cigar from his lips. " I too am honest, I hope," he remarked with a certain quaint gravity, "yet I have not always found my advice so welcome."

" There, don't cut up rough, old fellow. You ought to be glad to see me take good advice from any quarter. But, to change the subject, {par parenthhe — these are capital cigars !) This man has been telling me of that eccentric lady you read of in the county paper. He says she is a lady. Now are you smiling cynically? or is it some wayward twist of your moustaches ? Why should she not be a lady ?" "Why not, indeed? Only I should scarcely take your worthy friend's judgment on so delicate a point. But, never mind, I may be prejudiced ; go on." " You are prejudiced, Townsend. Harkness, — that is the fel low's name, he came here to attend some conference — says, ' she led a very retired life,' until the death of an uncle in Australia, who left her all his money. He was a rich man, and she had no relations left except a very pretty niece or cousin who often stays with her.

He says she was ' a very good compassionate lady always,' and now that she has such ample means it seems as if she never could give away enough. ' She can't bear any one in need being turned away from her door,' he says. ' Many people think that the large fortune coming to her so suddenly has turned her brain a little.' I quote his phrase. So you see our nineteenth century excuse for charity is mad ness. Well, of course she was deceived, and preyed upon by worthless beggars over and over again. The clergyman of the parish, whom I regret to say my friend dubs ' one of the sleepy shepherds,' woke up sufficiently to remonstrate. And now she has established this universal breakfast. Harkness says the house is not more than two miles off, and a pleasant walk. Anybody may go. Suppose you and I set off to-morrow morning, and see if I look forlorn enough to be offered a bowl of gruel ?"

" What a queer fellow you are, Arnold ! What can be your motive for wanting to play " Townsend had almost said "the beggar," but mended his phrase in time, "the har lequin like this ?" Perhaps Hubert was quick enough to perceive that the sentence had been mended, for a flush passed over his delicate face. "A new experience," he answered lightly. "It will be that to find any one giving me anything but a homily. No, old fellow," as he met an involuntary glance of reproach, " I only meant women just then."

Chapter II

"Messenger. Madam, I heard her speak, she is low-voiced. Cleopatra. Her hair, what colour? Messenger. Brown, madam." Antony and Cleopatra. Her voice was ever low, Gentle and soft, an excellent thing in woman." King Lear. PHE Knoll" was a charming country house little more than two miles distant from the cathedral city of Westborough. An early frost had crisped the fast falling leaves and caused the late lingering asters in the garden to droop. Nearly the whole front of the house was mantled by a Virginia creeper, the crimson leaves were touched with a silver sparkle, and here and there one fluttered silently down. And flat against the bricks the rose and scarlet leaves of Virginia ivy were tapestried. The red brick of the house was not harsh or glaring, but of a fine mellow purplish red-brown hue, such as the Dutch painter Van Hooghe, and that Bossuet, whose pic tures we meet in Flemish galleries, delighted to paint.

Our friends soon found themselves in a large cheerful room, where a bright fire burned and fragrant scents of tea and coffee were diffused. At the upper end was a long table piled with white china cups and saucers, decorated with lilac Michaelmas daisies, and small yellow asters, in bowls of Swiss earthenware, and flanked by huge loaves of home-made bread. Three maidservants, in a neat uniform of holland bibs and white caps, were busily dispensing steaming cups and substantial slices of bread and butter to a poorly clad group, chiefly consisting of women and boys, and some few hungry-looking men. At the further end of the room stood presumably the mistress of the house, talking to a woman with a very sickly-looking baby in her arms. A rather graceful figure, habited in plain close- MRS. AANOLD. 10 fitting black serge, was all that could then be seen of her by the two young men who had just entered.

The serving-maids look puzzled. The youngest, blushingly, and in a doubtful voice, asked Hubert if he would like a cup of coffee. In clear, cheerful tones, that had somewhat of a defiant ring to Ralph's ear, he replied, "Thank you, I should, very much." Ralph saw the figure in black start slightly, and half turn round. Then the low-toned talk with the poor woman was resumed. In deference to Ralph's more prosperous appearance, no hospitable offers were made to him, until, a few minutes later, Miss Ward herself approached them. She was rather below the middle height, with soft brown hair very simply arranged, a face slightly worn, in expression calm and kind, dark eyes, the colour of which it was difficult to tell. Her hands were very small and pretty, a pair of slender silver bangles on the delicate wrists, (unfashionably delicate they would be thought now) were her only ornaments.

She shook hands quietly with both the young men. "We ought to apologize for this intrusion," began Ralph. " The truth is, Miss Ward," interrupted Hubert, " we had heard so much of your charities that we felt sure you would allow us this pleasure." " I am glad to see you." The voice was low-pitched and singularly refined. "Will you not have some coffee, or do you prefer tea ?" she added, turning to Ralph. "I recommend this coffee very warmly," said Hubert. Ralph bowed and accepted a cup. He felt decidedly un comfortable, and wondered at Hubert's coolness. " Will you come into another room ? We can better talk to each other there," she presently added. She led the way into a sunny little morning-room. Ralph laid his card on the table, and seeing that Hubert's was not forthcoming, said, " I must introduce my friend, Mr. Hubert Arnold, of the Inner Temple, and S. Chad's, Oxford.

You are much more likely to have heard his name than mine. We were very proud of him, and with good reason, at S. Chad's." Ralph spoke with all the more warmth because Hubert happened to stand just where the light of a clear morning sun fell full upon him, revealing the shabbiness of his attire in a most uncompromising way. Ralph wished heartily that he had had the courage to propose a visit to the tailor yesterday, when he saw in the eyes of this gentle and graceful woman a slight surprise. It was, how*ever, but momentary. " I fancy I have met your name in literature somewhere," she remarked, after suggesting a sofa, which was out of the sunlight, as a seat, and sitting down beside him. " That is a comfortable chair, I think, Mr. Townsend." " I have written a good deal on various subjects," replied Hubert evasively.

"Something on church architecture, I think. Yes, it was about the churches in the Fen country. Is that one of your friend's subjects, Mr. Townsend?" " One on which he is very strong," replied Ralph. " I am delighted that you should remember anything of mine," added Hubert, who was rather flushed and nervous now, the defiant mood all gone. "It is a very favourite study with me. But I have been too — too greatly out of health lately to write much about that or anything else." He stam mered slightly ; Ralph pulled his moustaches uneasily. " I am very sorry," replied Miss Ward gently. " Mr. Town send, may I hope that you don't think me an utter pauperizer," turning to him with an easy change of tone. "The fact is, there are such a number of poor in this parish, and indeed in neighbouring ones as well; but this one especially has very much outgrown its resources, and the church endowment is but small, quite inadequate to meet all needs.

And then, the luxury of giving is a comparatively new one to me." "Don't force me, pray, to talk political economy," replied Ralph. " I want to forget there is any such thing. I want only to remember that charming kitchen, those ideal poor, the brightness, the plenty, and the grace that decorated the table." "Townsend, you are positively drifting into poetry!" cried Hubert. " Miss Ward, let me congratulate you. ' C'est pour la premiere fois,' as General Canrobert said when our infantry square opened to show him some manœuvres." " Did he ? What a graceful compliment !" Her sunny smile made her look both young and pretty. " But I can't quite believe that of your friend, Mr. Arnold. A first effort could hardly have been so neatly phrased, I think." Here a knock at the door preceded an announcement that Miss Ward was wanted.

" I am afraid I must be rude enough to desert you. But will you both give me the pleasure of seeing you at dinner, to-morrow — no — the day after, perhaps. Will that suit you ? Then at seven o'clock, please." They accepted and took their leave. "Well, what do you think of the whole thing?" asked Hu bert, as they walked briskly townwards. "Isn't it premature to answer that question until Thursday evening ?" " Perhaps so. But what do you think of her?" " Unconventional, no doubt ; possibly eccentric. But your friend is right on one point, she is a lady." " Ralph," said Hubert, after a short silence, " I don't like to impose on your goodness, but do you think you could get me credit with a tailor here ?" " Of course, my dear boy. We'll find one this morning," replied Ralph, much relieved. " Thanks, awfully.

You see I could hardly appear at dinner on Thursday in these seedy garments. Did you notice how the waitresses stared at me?" " I wonder at your sanctioning such a barbarous termina tion," was all Ralph's reply; "it's almost as bad as poetesses." " Not quite. Oh, no, Ralph, that is a lower depth of bar barism," gaily rejoined Hubert. Between the puffs of the post-prandial cigars that evening Hubert gravely asked another question. " Do you remember something our old Dean at S. Chad's said about the most spiritual kind of love being that for a woman older than oneself?" " I can't say I do." "An odd thing, wasn't it, to say?: "Very. His sister must have been plaguing the dear old fellow when he said it. Didn't she seem quite capable of nipping in the bud his aspirations after a ' mature syren ?' " "I liked Miss Gwynne," replied Hubert coldly; "she was a woman of much intellectual power."

" Rather too virile for me. Well, Shakespeare's authority is against the Dean, anyhow; and he had tried the experi ment." A letter at this moment was brought to Hubert. A small folded piece of paper dropped out as he opened it. " What's this ? A cheque for fifty pounds ! Why " and Hubert became suddenly silent, and read the letter through, then handed it to Ralph, saying, " Well, I don't believe any other woman could have done it in such a perfect way." Ralph read : — " Dear Mr. Arnold, " I hope you will not think that I am taking a liberty after so very short an acquaintance. But I was so sorry to hear you speak of troubles and ill health. I have known for the greater part of my life what it is to suffer in one way or another from want of money. Perhaps if you have not been well, change of air and fresh interests might do you good.

There is nothing sadder in the world, I think, than the thought of 'forces perdnes.' I am so much older than you that I hope I may venture to hold out a sisterly hand of help without its being considered any impertinence. "Yours sincerely, " Christabel Ward." Ralph slowly folded up the letter and handed it back, saying quietly, " She must be a good woman." " How true it is that, as somebody says, ' simplicity is the last result of culture !' " remarked Hubert, after unfolding and re-reading the letter. "Very likely. But that letter is the result of something besides culture. Did you ever know of culture inspiring warmth of heart or quick sympathy ?" " What do you suppose does ?" asked Hubert. "I'm afraid you would say it was 'Baxter for Bishops,' if I were to tell you. And hadn't you better acknowledge Miss Ward's letter?

There is just time to catch the last post." "Always correct, old fellow*. Well, I'm glad not to tax your kindness further. And I may invest in a great-coat now." " You know I wanted you to order one to-day." " I know you did, but I have some conscience, though cer tain friends of mine are good enough to deny me any share of that costly possession." And this was Hubert's letter : — "Dear Miss Ward, " If it be any pleasure to a generous spirit to feel that it has lightened a very heavy burden, and has brought back a ray of hope to a saddened life, that happiness in full measure should be yours. I thank you heartily, and remain " Yours always truly and gratefully, " Hubert Arnold. "P.S. — I have just remembered a tribute paid by the Hun garian patriot (or fire-brand) Kossuth, to his English friends, which was a tradition of my childhood. It was something like this, ' The pure gold of your kindness is enamelled by your delicacy.' H. A."

Chapter III

' Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild As evening blackbirds' full-toned lay, When the relenting sun has smiled Bright through a whole December day. " Keble. "THEY were a par tie carree at The Knoll on that Thursday evening. In the soft glow of lamplight Christabel Ward sat in a low chair beside the sofa on which she had ensconced her other friend, Miss Ross. A low range of book-shelves well filled ran round the room. Here and there the opal gleam of Venice glass might be seen, while chrysanthemums, brown, orange, purple, sulphur, white, were gracefully arranged with ferns in various parts of the room. Red-berried plants in grey china pots made a pretty study of colour. Some good specimens of art-needlework were disposed here and there, while some delicate water-colours and etchings hung on the walls.

Miss Ward's black dress, of a soft thin flowing material, was lightened by a cluster of white chrysanthemums and maiden-hair ferns. The third guest was an old lady, whose dress of black brocade was somewhat quaint in fashion, like her cap with its soft lavender ribbon and fine old lace, while a white Shetland shawl was thrown over her shoulders. Indeed she seemed to suggest the treasured fragrance of lavender, just as there lingered about her the antique flavour of one of Miss Edge worth's heroines. It was in truth one of Miss Ross's plea santest recollections, the having seen that cleverest of little ladies in her bright and serene old age. She was one of a large family, of which most of the sisters had married pros perously, most of the brothers had had successful careers, one as a scholarly clergyman, another in the diplomatic service.