Ivy Meredith; or, A Season in the South

Chapter I Journeying South

"Monsieur est malade?" inquired the guard, peering in at the open window of the railway carriage, and casting a compassionate glance towards the pallid face of a passenger, who, en veloped in wraps, was slumbering full length on the seat. Then continuing to address the other occupant of the compartment, he said, with the pleasant politeness of his race, " If Mademoiselle shall desire quelque chose for pauvre Monsieur, I come at next station for to see." With a bow he then hurried off, changing his sympathetic voice back to its shrill and alarming tones, so painfully familiar to all who travel abroad : " En voiture, Messieurs et Mesdames, en voiture ; en voiture?' Thus, the comforting bouillon and cafe au lait were abruptly left steaming on the tables ; while the hungry and excited passengers, whose tongues and throats were smarting from 2 I their hurried efforts to swallow some of the scald ing beverage, rushed forth to take their seats, looking frantically into every carriage but the right one, as they flew up and down the platform, until some cooler-headed fellowpassenger stretched forth a helping hand to guide their agitated steps.

The train ha3 again started ; and, while it whizzes along its course, we have time to follow the example of the guard, and take a look into the compartment where the sick man sleeps. His feet are stretched out on the seat, and though the weather — considering September has just begun — cannot be called cold, he is carefully covered up by a thick rug, while his thin, white hands, delicate complexion, and hollow cheeks, tell their own sad story. It is generally thought that by the expression of the eyes and mouth, one can get a tolerably fair insight into a person's character ; but, in the case of Ralph Meredith, this is not permitted to us, as his eyes are closed in sleep, while a heavy, fair moustache completely pre cludes any view of his mouth. Yet, all the same, one can almost as accurately diagnose his dis position as one can do the state of his shattered health.

At any rate, it is easy to discern that little evil lies beneath, and that there is an utter absence of all meanness or smallness. The deep blue veins contrast strongly with the whiteness of his brow, on which the curly fair hair is loosely tossed about. His jaw is somewhat square, and his nose straight, giving an expression of firmness and decision to his countenance. Sad thoughts and anxious fears begin to fill the mind of Ivy Meredith as she sits watching her father while he sleeps. She has never, until now, realised how ill he looks, and she wonders how she could ever have had sufficient courage to take the responsibility of bringing him, all by herself, so far from his home. Home ! the very word seems to make her visibly wince, for, is it not now, to them both, merely a name of the past ?

Reflecting thus sadly, her large brown eyes begin to fill with tears, which glisten, like so many dew drops, on her long, dark lashes, and fall, one by one, on to her rosy cheeks ; while her lips quiver at each effort to be brave. But, do what she will, the young girl's thoughts persistently go back to the dear little English home, once so bright and full of life, now, silent and empty ; the coarse rank weeds so thick and tall, that the flowers, which she and her father had tended with such care, are scarce able to hold up their heads. She sees once more, through this half-blinding mist, the little cottage drawing-room with its rosebud chintz chairs, where the long winter evenings had seemed, to her, only too short, so snugly and cheerily spent by the side of her father and Aunt Ricky. She sees the old hobbed grate where Betty's special pride, the shining copper kettle, sat and sang its cosy song ; the clock, too, on the high chimney piece, keeping time with its distant chimes to the voice of the little cuckoo in the hall, as he hurriedly peeped out to tell the hour, and rudely slammed to his door again.

Gazing out of the carriage window, oblivious of all present surroundings, Ivy Meredith's thoughts carry her back as far as she can remember. She sees the high backed baby-chair beneath her mother's picture, on which she used to climb so that the dainty bunch of kisses, blown from her chubby finger tips, might more safely reach those pretty lips which seemed to smile upon her. To that pictured form, which was all that Ivy had ever known as " mother," many a tale of childish grief had been innocently carried. To her she had run in gleeful haste with the first blossoms of the early spring, picked by her tiny hands. It was to that girl mother — so vividly imaged on the canvas— that she had flown for comfort when Oliver Cromwell tore her Sunday frock in an oft-forbidden romp, fearful of meeting Aunt Ricky's tall, gaunt figure and hearing her chiding word^ The child had always felt sure that whether she was naughty or good, merry or sad, that still and ever silent mother would give her the same gentle, loving smile, and that those wistful eyes would follow her into whatever part of the room she went, as though they could never be satisfied.

While Captain Meredith sleeps soundly, and his daughter's thoughts yet wander along the pathways of her childhood, the train still rushes on with swinging speed ; but the streams and rivers, the fields and lanes, the trees and houses, as they dart past, are all unheeded by her whose eyes are gazing beyond them all — on over the distant blue horizon, into that far-off void expanse, where once dwelt the happy past. There, where her youthful summers had been spent in such cloudless joy at her father's side, where they had raked and hoed together, had sowed and planted, had watched and tended each flower and shrub. There, where they had romped in the new-mown grass, and where her father had buried her in the sweet-scented hay, whence she had been liberated by Oliver Cromwell, who, on hearing her shriek at sight of a beetle wending its way towards her fat little nose, had. come barking to her assistance and speedily demolished her tickly prison walls.

In those days he had been a youthful dog, full of fun like his little playmate, but now he is old and stiff, while she is just entering into lovely womanhood. This venerable dog of eleven is now curled up on the rug which covers his master's limbs, and, like him, is fast asleep. Another old friend and favourite, Henry the Eighth, is also travelling South ; but he, apparently, has not quite such a luxurious time of it as Oliver Cromwell, the swift motion of the train causing him to swing to and fro so rapidly on his perch that he not unfrequently descends with unwonted abruptness and lack of dignity to the bottom of his cage. He now leads a life of single blessedness, this venerable canary, having cruelly pecked at, and almost plucked, several wives — some actually succumbing to their sufferings.

Indeed, poor Catherine Parr, the sole survivor, has been left behind in London, being in much too featherless a condition to travel. When Captain Meredith wakes up, after his long sleep, he is surprised to find how far they have got on their journey. " Well, Evergreen," he says, yawning and stretching himself, " how are you getting on ? I have been dreaming of Aunt Ricky ; dreaming of the time when she came to live with us, seventeen years ago. Poor old thing, she will feel dull now, all alone in those dismal rooms in Gower Street, after such a long spell of fresh country life. You must write to her, Ivy, directly we get to Pau, and cheer her up a bit." Miss Rickmansworth, the aunt of Captain Mere dith's late wife, was, at the time of her niece's death, her only near relative in England ; and she, there fore, came to look after the little motherless child, who, having only just commenced life's journey, had begun it with the sorrowful loss of a mother's tender care.

Aunt Ricky, as she was always called, had most faithfully discharged the duties of both parents for a time, Captain Meredith being then in the army. Increasing ill health, however, had obliged him, later on, to give up his profession, and then it was that Ivy had first begun to realise true happiness. The elderly aunt, who had in variably been good and kind to her tiny niece, had, nevertheless, been past the years of play; indeed, to look at her, one might have doubted whether she had ever so far forgotten her dignity as to romp. But when the father had come, with his love and youth, though his health was gradually waning, he had forgotten, at times, his lifelong sorrow in his new-found joy, and had become the companion and playmate of his little child. " You will have no one to help you now, Ever green, to look after your sick old dad," he says, smiling somewhat sadly.

" I hope, my child, that I have not acted wrongly in putting so much responsibility on your young shoulders." " Indeed, father," replies his daughter, sitting down on the edge of the seat beside him, and putting her arms round his neck, " you. must not have any such foolish thoughts. In the first place, you are not an old dad ; and in the second place, you are only a sick one for a time. We shall soon see you well and strong again, when you have been a short time in the sunny south. Besides," continues she, giving her father a kiss, " I feel quite hurt at your supposing me to be such a baby that I cannot look after any one who is ill. It would take more responsibility than that, I can assure you, to turn my locks grey." This last remark is certainly true, considering that the locks referred to are of a brilliant gold ; but the speaker appears to forget that, only a few minutes ago, she was silently weeping at the very thought of that heavy responsibility which she now makes so light of.

As the passing summer shower leaves no traces of gloom in the clear blue sky, so this young girl, as she now looks up at her father with a bright dimpled smile on her face and an expression of happy love in her great brown eyes, has, by her own sunshine, dispersed not only the heavy clouds which had threatened to gather over her father's heart, but also those which a short moment ago had so darkly overshadowed her youthful spirits. And now let us bid adieu to this quartet for a time, and see for ourselves some of the people whom they are shortly going to meet.

Chapter II At The Chateau Nevada

Ox one of those brilliant days in the early part of October which are frequently seen at that season of the year in Pau, when one side of your house resembles the heat of summer, and the other gently reminds you not to forget the winter, Lady Theodora Larkins, novel in hand, was languidly lounging back in an easy-chair at the open window of her sunny boudoir. Her dainty toes, of which she was extremely proud, were stretched out on to the balcony to toast in the baking sun, while her head and face were* kept well inside the room, for she prized her complexion, which, strange to say, was her very own. This was more than could be said of her hair, which was placed by her maid each night in a drawer, side by side with a variety of other smart coiffures. Being the consul's wife, those who arrived at Pau for the winter usually called upon Lady Theodora, unless they were too ill, or unless they had no desire to mix much in society.

Therefore, as she held a reception once a week, and this was the commencement of the season and her reception day, she was anticipating a goodly crush. Some of the visitors to Pau brought introductions with them, while others presented themselves at the Chateau Nevada without any recommendation ; which was con descendingly excused if the parties concerned possessed plenty of money — especially in the case of a bachelor or widower who was considered a bon parti — for this lady, though she had already got two daughters satisfactorily off her hands, had still one more to dispose of. On the day referred to, Lady Theodora had just tossed away her novel in disgust at finding that the heroine had obstinately chosen to remain an old maid, because her parents had prevented her marrying the man she loved.

Then, falling into what, for her, might almost be termed deep reflection, this aggrieved mother commenced to draw mental comparisons between the rebellious heroine and her own daughter. Thus she mused : " I begin to think that our Gwendoline is making a perfect fool of herself, refusing every eligible man who proposes to her out here, all for the sake of a penniless government clerk in England, whom nobody knows, and who will never be able to marry. Unless — but no, Gwendoline would never make such a goose of herself as to contemplate ' love in a cottage.' I am not so very sure, though, what folly she may not be led into by the en couragement of that absurd uncle of hers." In the midst of this anxious and motherly meditation, Lady Theodora was interrupted by the entrance of Barclay, who handed her a letter.

After reading the contents of the epistle, a look of worried vexation came over her face as she rose and rang the bell. " How did this letter come ? " inquired she, as Barclay, having scarcely had time to reach the foot of the stair, speedily reappeared. " A young lady brought it, please your ladyship." " Oh " — and then, feeling rather at a loss as to what she had really rung for, she hesitated slightly and said : " Tell your master that, as soon as he is at leisure, I should like to see him." The following were the contents of this letter which had given rise to certain feelings of sisterly resentment as well as motherly apprehension : — " Carlton Club, September ird. "My dear Theodora, — The probable bearer of this letter is, as you will see for yourself, both charming and pretty. She is, moreover, your humble servant's god-daughter.

Her name is Ivy Stannington Meredith, and her father has been my greatest chum for many years. He is now, I regret to say, in very bad health, and goes to Pau, like many another, to die, or to come home better. By ' home,' I mean this country ; for the fact of the matter is they have no home now, having given up their pretty little house and sold all their furniture to enable them to go abroad. Meredith was a captain in the — th at the same time as myself, and was a great favourite in the regiment, though he was, unfortunately, obliged to sell out about twelve years ago on account of ill health. He lost his wife seventeen years ago, after they had only been married one year, and his illness dates from that time. Poor Meredith looks sadly broken down now ; but when he was in the — th he was considered, out and out, the finest man in the regiment.

I only hope he may pick up at Pau ; though the doctor here does not take a very hopeful view of his case. I trust that Gwen and my god-daughter will become great friends, as I know they are likely to suit one another. You need not try your blandishments upon Meredith for a son-in-law, as he is very poor, and far too ill. By the bye, I met young Stamford the other evening at Lady Oldham's, and he is positively wasting away to a shadow : not that he was ever anything but diminutive, or he would never have fancied such an elephantine girl as Gwen. My dear Theo, why don't you cave in and let them marry ? After getting the other two girls so admirably well suited to your taste, I must say, I think you might let poor Gwen have her own way. Stamford is a very nice little fellow, I assure you ; and though he has not as much money as you, I know, would like, he is very well connected.

Good-bye for the present, and forgive all this chaff. Love to all, from your affectionate brother, " STANNINGTON. " P.S. — Look out for susceptible Reggie when he comes home, for before he has seen Ivy Meredith twice, he will be head and ears in love with her. If such a catastrophe (in your eyes) should actu ally take place, mind, Theo, that you are not unkind to the little thing, or I shall never forgive you. Lucky is the man who gets her, say I. Unfortunately, a girl may not marry her grand father (or her godfather either, for all I know), otherwise I would have proposed to Ivy Meredith sixteen years ago." " You sent for me, I think, my love, did you not ? " asked Lady Theodora's husband as he entered the boudoir. How often one hears a married couple, who entertain a very casual affection for one another, address each other as " My love."

"Yes, Matthew, I did send for you," answered his wife, in a somewhat dictatorial tone. " I have just received one of Lionel's nonsensical letters. I wonder when he will grow sensible, but I fear that is scarcely to be looked for at his age. Wisdom usually asserts itself in a man's character before the age of one-and-forty." " True, my love, true ; but is this all that you wanted to say to me ? " Her breathless better-half felt slightly annoyed at being brought away from his literary work, as well as being made to mount upstairs merely to hear again, what he had repeatedly been told during the last five-and-twenty years, that his brother-in-law was not quite a nineteenth-century Solomon. Had Mr. Larkins dared— but then he dared nothing in the presence of Lady Theodora he would have told her that the unconventional, manly common sense of Lord Stannington — mis called nonsense by his sister— was, to his mind, one of those precious jewels which, we have been told, are beyond the appreciation of a certain class of quadrupeds.

Not that Mr. Matthew Larkins, even in his inmost thoughts, ever dreamed of comparing his highly elegant, exquisitely dressed wife to any inferior animal ; but he had not lived in her society all these years without knowing that nothing which did not savour of over-seasoned worldliness suited her highly sophis ticated palate. In her energetic declamation against her brother's letter, Lady Theodora had risen from her seat at the window, and stood facing her husband. " No, my dear Matthew, that is not all I wished to say to you : indeed, there is a good deal in Stannington's letter to cause me worry and anxiety. He is introducing some people to us, who are, I feel convinced, simply nobodies ; probably some of the many whom he picks up and takes an interest in, and then expects others to do the same.

But really, Matthew, I think you will agree with me, that this is not the time to encourage all kinds of unknown strangers to come about the house, just when we are so soon expecting Reginald home. My brother also takes the liberty of interfering about Gwendoline and that silly affair with young Stamford, and says that he wishes her to become an intimate friend of But you had better read the letter your self, and pass over the nonsense, or not, just as you like ; and then you can give me your opinion and advice." " Advice ! it must be something serious indeed when Theodora expresses any desire for my advice," thought her meek and submissive hus band. He, however, sat down in an easy-chair to peruse the letter in question ; while his wife, like so many women who dote on admiration, and delight in the pleasant anticipation of making a favourable impression on others — especially those of the opposite sex — stood before the long draped mirror, which almost filled one end of the boudoir, and complacently contemplated her appearance.

She first gave a few touches to her marvellously arranged hair, giving it a gentle shove in here, and a slight pull out there. She then, with her plump palms, smoothed down the waist of her perfectly fitting costume, while her dimpled fingers sparkled with many precious stones. Like a few women we meet, who are terrified at the very thought of becoming passee, Lady Theodora was almost always somewhat overdressed. She need not have distressed herself on that score however, for no one, not even her most bitter enemies, would have accused her of being in her forty-fifth year ; still less would they have credited her with the right, which, much to her annoyance, she possessed, of being called " grandmama." Hearing her husband address her, this autocrat of the Chateau turned majestically round and awaited his opinion on the letter.

Giving his usual little nervous, bronchial cough, Mr. Larkins began : " I really see nothing, my love, in your brother's letter to cause you such anxiety." " I knew you would not," retorted his wife ; " you never do see these things, Matthew, and never will — not until your only son has been inveigled into matrimony by some beggar girl. A pretty thing, indeed, for my dear father's grand son to take some country hoyden through a season in London ! " " True, my love, true ; but as yet Reginald has not seen the young lady in question. You, my love, have not even seen her yourself ; so that I really think you are distressing yourself some what prematurely." " But, / have seen her," observed a voice from the balcony, as Miss Larkins entered by the open window, " and she is simply lovely." This young lady had strolled round by the balcony from her own room, eager to inquire of her mother whether she could tell her the name of the beauty who brought the note.

Overhearing a few words of the conversation between her parents, she felt sure that they were, at that moment, discussing the very same person. " You have seen Miss Meredith ? " said her astonished mother, in a tone of inquiry. " Well, I cannot tell you whether her name is Meredith, or not," replied Miss Larkins ; " but I have seen this country hoyden whom Reggie is to drag through the next London season," and the speaker laughed merrily. Her father, though he felt inclined to join her, stood too much in awe of her ladyship to do so ; and, taking ad vantage of this timely interruption, he made off downstairs — glad of an opportunity to continue the literary research, in which he had been dis turbed when the footman was sent to order him upstairs.

Chapter III New Acquaintances

That same afternoon Captain Meredith and his daughter drove to the Chateau Nevada, to pay their respects to Lady Theodora Larkins. It was a lovely October day, and the trees on the thickly wooded coteaux had already begun to turn to a variety of shades, and the rich red and yellow colouring, blending with the yet remaining green, was shown off to perfection by the brilliancy of the sunshine. At each turn of the road the scenery changed. Now and again there came a glimpse of the river Gave, wending its way through its vine-clad banks ; while at intervals appeared the well-known vine yards and village of Jourancon, so bathed in sun shine that the very roofs of the houses looked as though they would be scorching to the touch. Indeed, the peasants of those parts have rather a frizzled, parched-up appearance, and look old before their time.

Women of forty look nearly sixty ; and those who have actually reached their threescore years give one the impression of being almost venerable centenarians. The blue-bloused cocher, who recognised in Miss Meredith and her father the unmistakable look of recent arrivals, was keen to show off the beauties of the landscape with quite an air of pride, as though he had himself taken a part in the arrangement of it all. He would occasionally bring his horses to a standstill, so that the occu pants of the caleche might more thoroughly enjoy the view ; particularly when there was any oppor tunity of their getting a fuller survey of the glorious panorama of the Pyrt_nt.es. In the midst of this long range of mountains, the Pic du Midi d'Ossau stood out in bold relief, towering above them all; its lofty and precipitous crags glistening in the sun's rays.

It was with a grin of intense satisfaction that the genial charioteer would look round and exclaim " Les voila ! " indicating with his whip the direction in which the two strangers were intended to turn their eyes. Indeed, the mountains were certainly looking their very best that sunny afternoon ; for though the recent fall of snow, which now glittered on their rugged peaks, had suddenly caused the temperature to fall so low that the new-comers had begun to think the climate of Pau a complete fraud, the weather had again become quite warm. This is frequently the case after the first snow has comfortably settled itself down on the mountain-tops ; though, if you are tempted foolishly to walk in the shade, or to remain out during sunset, you might easily imagine yourself anywhere but in the sunny South.

When the father and daughter arrived at the Chateau Nevada they found the drawing-room almost full to overflowing ; and the din of voices, when the door opened, greatly alarmed the timid heart of poor Ivy as she heard the servant loudly announce " Captain and Miss Meredith." They had been just one month in Pau ; and could Dr. Blunt have seen his patient now he would have been both surprised and pleased at the improvement in the latter's appearance. He looked a good deal stronger, and was more upright in his bearing ; for the very good reason that the climate had greatly relieved him of his cough. Many eyes were turned on the handsome pair as they entered the room : some, especially those of the men, in evident admiration at Miss Meredith's rare beauty. As Lady Theodora came forward to receive them, she could with difficulty suppress a smile as she looked at the graceful girl before her and thought of the country hoyden.

" I am so delighted to see you and Captain Meredith," said this insincere lady, warmly. " It was so good of you to bring my brother's letter here yourself this morning. Had I only known that you were at the door I should have insisted upon your coming in to rest for a little." Ivy, feeling extremely shy, found herself murmuring something, she scarcely knew what, in reply to her hostess, about not feeling the least tired and its being a lovely day for a walk. Miss Larkins, however, to the visitor's intense relief, came forward and took her to a seat ; and, as the two girls sat and chatted together, the latter was surprised to find that all her bash fulness had vanished. One look ;nto Gwendoline Larkin's clear blue eyes had acted as a spell and drawn these two together, who, though they now met for the first time, were to be so constantly and so closely brought into contact with one another through the rest of their lives.

Before other visitors arrived, Lady Theodora had time for a few words with Captain Meredith. " I was just saying to Miss Meredith how very good it was of her to bring my brother's letter all this way to-day. I am sure she must be tired." " My daughter is an excellent walker," remarked her father, " and thinks nothing of this distance. I used to be great at it myself, but have had to give all that up of late." " I suppose so," said his companion in her most insinuatingly sympathetic tones. " Stannington tells me that you are far from strong ; but I trust you will soon be set up again by our lovely climate here. I had no idea, Captain Meredith, that my brother could be so excessively enthu siastic about any of his friends ; you ought really to have seen his letter." " Your brother has always been absurdly partial to my little girl, Lady Theodora, but you know he is her godfather, and so there is some excuse for him, I suppose."

He was just thinking that no one could possibly need any excuse for loving his child, and took a glance round the room to see where she was sitting, which caused his hostess to exclaim : " Oh, how very thoughtless I am, Captain Meredith, to keep you standing all this time. Come and let me introduce you to my friend, Mrs. Hartington Hobbs ; there is a comfortable chair just beside her." And Lady Theodora then went forward to welcome other guests. Some were greeted with genuine cordiality ; others with equally genuine insincerity. To all outward appearance, however, the two modes of reception so much resembled one another that only the eye of the most experienced could dis tinguish any difference between them. Some, whose anxious troubles were so feelingly sym pathised with by Lady Theodora as to awaken fond expectations of a lifelong friendship, were quite unaware that their touching tales had com pletely vanished from her mind ere the speakers had quitted her rooms.