His Helpmate

Front matter

HIS HELPMATE. Hr. Prank Barrett'd SoVel*. THE GREAT HESPER. Is. FOUND GUILTY. 3 vols. 31s. 6d. JOHN FORD. 2 vols. 12s. FOLLY MORRISON. 2s. HONEST DAVIE. 2s. Ward & Downey, Prr.T.isHEKS, London-. ''DEAR hands!' MlliMriiKl) MADGE, bending ovek them. See Page 190. >;v FRANK BARRETT, AUTHOR OF "THE GREAT HESPER, "FOUND GUILTY, "JOHN FORD," "FOLLY MORRISON," "HONEST DAVIE," &C LONDON : WARD & DOWNEY, 12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1887. [All Rights Keserz'et/.] S. Cowan d- Co. .Strathmore Printing Worhi, Perth.

Chapter I

of my girls wants to learn the violin, Mr. CÆ|gÆ' Holderness ; clo you know any one who gives lessons ? — not a big swell, you know — can't afford that, but a decent musician who can give two or three lessons a week for moderate payment." " Yes," said I, " I know several musicians who give lessons." " Well, I shall be much obliged if you will send one of them to my place. Begin at once — Monday, say. I'll tell Madge — that's where we live." Saying this Mr. Goddard gave me a card on which was his address — " Sunnyside Cottage, Highgate." A friend at the other side of the room nodded to him and he left me with a shake of the hand and thanks for the trouble I was about to give myself on his account. It was odd, this careless manner of settling a serious matter. But then Mr. Goddard himself was odd and affected oddness.

To me it seemed that if he combed his long hair at all, it was to make it lie more ragged and untidy than if he had left it uncombed. He wore an old velvet jacket that one would have been ashamed to offer to a beggar — the buttons gone and the sleeves daubed with colour. He was not particular about the shade of his shirt collar, but he prided himself on neck handkerchiefs of the most violent colours, which were tied with scrupulous carelessness in a half-bow. He was an artist ; and at that time not a successful one, to judge by his eccentricity and Bohemian tastes. Men correct all that when they rise above mediocrity and their talents are recognised. I have seen sketches of his, oils and water-colours, on the morning-room chimney-piece, that might be bought for ten shillings each — but they rarely were.

Men talked about him and were witty at his ex pense. He was continually " going in " for some thing ; but he stuck to nothing except that old snuff-coloured velvet jacket. They said that if he changed his linen as often as he changed his style, he would be a more respectable artist. At one time he devoted his talent to cattle ; then he called himself Paul Potter Goddard in honour of the great Dutch painter. He wished to substitute Veronese for Potter when he tried his hand at large imaginative pictures, but the old name stuck to him. There was something appropriate to him in the name of Potter, and Potter he was more frequently called than Goddard. Our acquaintance was of the slightest kind ; we knew each other by meeting at the " Bayard " — a little club of professional men near Covent Garden I was musical conductor at the Orpheon.

I am not without my faults — who is ? — and the young fellows in my orchestra or at the club poked fun at me because I am careful — to a punctilious degree, perhaps. But I prefer to be an object of ridicule rather than of contempt, and I hold that carelessness is contemptible in a man who has outgrown his youth. So I let these youngsters laugh, knowing that they bore me no malice, and had their good qualities as well as I. Mr. Goddard 's commission perplexed me a good deal, for I had been told that he was a widower, and that his daughters were handsome, and I knew that he was careless. There was some excellent violins in my band, but not one among them was remarkable for high principle, and I dreaded the consequence of intro^ ducing one of these lively young men into Mr. Goddard's family. I hesitated, moreover, from another consideration.

I foresaw the probability of having to pay for Miss Goddard's instruction out of my own pocket, for Mr. Goddard, I knew, was more ready to get into debt than to get out of it, and the teacher might hold me responsible for loss entailed by my re commendation. So after much cogitation I de termined that I myself would teach Miss Goddard — that being the surest way of avoidingunpleasantness. The following Monday I presented myself with my violin at Sunnyside Cottage. A servant maid led me upstairs to the studio. There I was left to myself long enough to note the peculiarities of the room. Had I not known Mr. Goddard, I think I could have imagined his character by the look of his work shop. It was as disorderly as any man of genius could desire. The two windows were draped with pieces of buff-calico and green baize, nailed up to direct the light according to the artist's requirements.

A gas standard with a reflector and three Argand burners stood between the windows to replace the light of day when the demands of the public should oblige the artist to work by night. A far-seeing spider had spun his web over the apparatus and left the husks of last autumn's victims in the meshes. In the middle of the floor was a patch of carpet ; I learned from Potter later on that it was Turkish, and had been in Alma Tadema's studio ; it might have been in Noah's ark for any external evidence to the contrary. There was a massive easel with machinery for raising a canvas six feet high, and another for ordinary use ; a third with a white umbrella for summer campaigning stood in a corner. The walls were decorated with peacocks' feathers, Japanese fans, the scrapings of palette knives, and a rack of pipes, mostly broken.

On a shelf were a few plaster casts, and some broken pottery. dusky with smoke and the dust of many months. In a corner was a pile of canvases, studies, and works begun. At one end of the room was a piano, and this alone looked as if it were in use. I sat on a stool regarding these things with a feeling of sadness, for the spectacle of abandoned enterprise is at most times depressing, until the door opened, and Miss Goddard stood before me. A ray of sunshine came in with her through the open door, and she seemed part of it. I have seen many beautiful women at the Orpheon, their beauty enhanced by every cunning device known to art, but this girl in her simple morning dress, unadorned, and with her charms as nature had bestowed them, excited in me a feeling of admiration, such as I had never felt the like of before.

I cannot pretend to convey an idea of her beauty. The description of a melody cannot convey the im pression it makes upon the ear ; and the beauties of form and colour are — at least, to me — as difficult to transcribe ; they seem to demand a language of their own, these things. I can only tell that she was tall and perfectly shaped, lithe and graceful ; that her hair was dark, her brows and lashes darker still, and her eyes darkest of all ; and she was fair with a wonderful freshness and sparkling brightness, in her open, feai-less countenance, and a certain audacity in her bearing that inspired one with the belief that she could conceal nothing, and must be a good girl as well as a beautiful one. " Papa is not at home," she said ; " he must have forgotten that you were to come this afternoon.

Per haps you will like to arrange with him about — about terms before beginning." " There will be no difficulty about that," I replied ; ■" if you are willing to take a lesson I am quite ready to give you one. We can settle about payment later ■on ; I know your father." " You are the gentleman engaged by Mr. Holder ness, I suppose ? " " I am John Holderness." She seemed a little embarrassed on hearing this. " Mr. Goddard asked me to find a decent musician who was not a ' great swell, ' " I explained, " and I have not been able to think of any one who answered better to that description than myself." This, and the tone of voice in which I spoke, seemed to put her at ease ; a little smile parted her lips and made her eyes prettier than ever ; then, growing suddenly serious, she said in a tone of anxiety ; " I am afraid you will find me a troublesome pupil."

" I hope you will not find me impatient, " I answered. " You know something of music . " " Oh, I can pia}' the piano — not well at all. I don't like the piano." " Then no wonder you do not play well. Neverthe less, it is a fine instrument, the piano." " I can't think that. It makes you so angular, and you must turn your back on half the audience, and you must jerk your arms and hands about like a horrid piece of machinery, and there is nothing whatever graceful in it." " Oh, oh ! " thought I, " now I know why you want to learn the violin." " Besides," she continued, " everyone now plays the piano, and there are so many of us anxious to teach that it is the hardest thing in the world to get a living by it. My sisters teach at a school every day ; fancy scales every day and all the year round !

They come home quite fagged out at night, and their pay is miserable. If they were not the most presevering, self denying, dear girls in the world, they would throw up their engagements in disgust — I did." " And you hope to do better by teaching the violin ?" She shook her head, and with an expression of self reproach, said : "I failed utterly as a teacher. You see I could only instruct the lower class. Well when the children were good I was obliged to keep hugging and kissing them. and when they were naughty I smacked them, and when they began to cry I cried too, and there was an end of it, before I had been at the school a week." She dropped her eyes abashed ; and it was well for me she did so, for had she regarded my face she must have seen that I was laughing within myself. " Don't you think I should have a better chance of success with the violin ?

" she asked, after a moment's silence. " As a means of earning money . " Oh, we cannot afford to be idle. I ought to have been helping the others for years past ; but instead of that — " She paused, bending her pretty brows, and straining her delicate fingers which were knit one within another as if to punish herself for her faults. " I daresay a lady who could teach the violin would be better paid than a pianiste," said I ; "at the same time a certain amount of excellence — " " Oh, I don't mean to teach," she said, looking up ; " I intend to play in public." " That is quite another thing," said I, knowing how an audience, looking at this young and beautiful girl, would magnify tbe good and ignore the bad parts of her performance. "As a public performer you may make a fortune." " Then let us begin our lesson at once," she cried, springing up from the piano-stool on which she had seated herself.

" Have you a violin ? " I asked. " There is one amongst papa's properties," said she, and opening a long black box in which I caught sight of a broken lay figure and a mixed collection of cos tumes, she brought out a violin and a bow. " Only," she said, coming down with a laugh, " there's not a sound to be got out of it." That was the truth. The back of the instrument was split, strings and bow were innocent of resin. The one passed over the other as if they had been greased. "No matter," said I, " it will be sufficient for to-day if you learn how to hold the violin and the bow, and these are good enough for that purpose. The first thing is to know how to move the bow with a free swing of the arm and a fitting turn of the wrist." " I think I know that already," said she. " Good," said I, not a little amused at her naive presumption, for I have found a proper use of the bow the most difficult thing to teach, " good — show me what you can do."

She took the violin and bow from me, and walking with a stately grace to the middle of the room, stood on the edge of the square of carpet and made me a low bow. Then she drew herself up, and looked "SHE MADE ME A LOW BOW." beyond me as if waiting for the moment to begin. Again I lost myself in admiration of her beauty — her hand, her wrist, her arm, exquisite in form Q 16 HIS HELPMATE. and colour ; her young yet well-developed figure ; the lines of her shoulders and throat ; her small head crowned with a coil of hair that, catching a ray of sun light, took a deep brown tint ; the well-opened eyes, the white nose a little arched, the round under lip raised to meet the short upper one, drawing her full chin into prominence, and adding pride to the natural audacity of her expression — all these charms together were enough to turn a head greyer than mine.

I do not think she saw me ; she looked as if in imagination she regarded an admiring and expectant audience, and was prepared to meet their expectations — it was the pose of a real artist. And the effect was so strong that I myself entered into the imaginary scene ; instinctively I raised my bow to beat time. She set her .violin in position, resting her round chin upon it, raised her elbow, and holding the bow lightly between her thumb and three first fingers with the fourth delicately raised, she dropped the heel upon the strings, and as I gave the signal, drew the bow down with a fine free sweep of arm and wrist to the full extent ; then dropping her wrist, she brought the bow back to its first position with a masterly grace. But not a sound came from the useless instrument. The illusion was not to be kept up.

With her chin still on the violin she looked at me laughing and said : O O " Is that anything like it, Mr. Holderness ? " "It is admirable," said I; "you have surely taken lessons already." "No, but I have seen the violin played, and I have practised using the bow." " Ay, ay 1 " thought I ; " and before a glass too, I'll warrant." u

Chapter II. Procured

a proper instrument for Miss Goddard, and did my best to teach her to play it, going three times a week to Highgate, and sometimes four, lor it occurred frequently that from one cause or another she could not take a lesson. There was a dress she must alter, or a friend she must visit, or some such excuse ; but more often she would say : " It's not a bit of good trying to teach me to-day, for I'm not in an inclination to learn. I shall lose my temper and tax yours to no purpose whatever." The fact is she had no deep love for music, and her ambition to become a public player was not sufficiently strong to make her overcome her disinclination to serious study. Nobody scolded her for her want of perseverance ; people are just as illogical in their indulgence to an amiable and beautiful girl, as they are i*i their harsh ness towards girls who are ill-tempered and plain.

And her faults were not the outcome of an ill-conditioned nature, but rather the result of careless educa tion. ,; We are more to blame than she is," said Joan, the eldest of the three sisters, and a remarkably plain sensible young woman : " we have flattered and petted her, humoured her caprices and encouraged her extravagance, and we must not be intolerant because she is — what we have made her." Nevertheless, Madge suffered for her faults. She was extremely sensitive, and when her sisters were unwontedly quiet, she would conclude that they were brooding over her faults or follies. Sometimes, stung by self-reproach, she would work with surprising energy and assiduity. " If you see me growing idle, tell me to do my duty," she said to me one day. At these times she made great progress. Unhappily, the times were of short duration, and at the end of a fortnight or so she would present herself without he fiddle, and in a coaxing tone say : " Don't talk to me seriously to-day.

I — I shall cry if you do." It was no good reminding her of her duty then. And I was as ready to indulge her as any one else. To tell the truth, I was a bad teacher, for she fairly turned my head. " Miss Goddard, it is useless for me to pretend to teach you. I am an old fool, and cannot command proper respect and attention from you ; therefore it is my duty to give up the pretence, and tell your papa to find someone more capable to fill my place." That is what I ought to have said. But I did not say any thing of the kind, and was ready to talk about my orchestra, or play snatches from the new work in rehearsal, or anything else, at Miss Goddard's bid ding. My scruples might have led me to resign my position as her teacher, had I been paid for teaching. But I was not paid. Potter Goddard never mentioned a word about terms, or offered to reimburse me for the violin I had purchased for his daughter.

There was a very good reason for that : the man never had any money. He was unconscionably lazy, and as vain as a peacock. Joan and Cicely paid all the bills and kept things going on. They were hard-working, excellent girls both : Joan plain and matter of fact, with a great fund of good sense and good feeling ; Cicely simple, naive, and very pretty — though not for a moment to be compared with Madge in anything except the clear ness and peach-like softness of her complexion. Cicel}- was engaged to Horace Clinton, and they were a very fairly-matched couple. Clinton was a gentlemanly, good-looking young man, amiable and estimable in most things, though not so strong and virile as I like men to be. His hair was very soft and curly, and one little lock would fall over his forehead, and he could not pronounce the letter R. But I believe these peculiarities were natural, and not the result of affectation, so he is not to be thought ill of on this account.

He was an artist, clever in painting pretty faces. He made money by designing pictures for the lids of bon-bon boxes, though he tried to keep the fact secret, feeling that this style of work was derogatory to his character as an artist. But it en abled him to keep his mother and father, and to offer a home to Cicely, which was more than Potter Goddard could have attempted to do ; so he did wrong to scoff at bon-bon boxes, I think. Joan was not engaged, nor had she any admirer at that time. " Madge and Cicely must marry and go away before any one will look at me," said she. It looked as if Cicely would marry first; I think she postponed her marriage for the sake of her family. It was as much as her efforts, united with Joan's, could do to make ends meet at "Sunnyside." Left to her self, Joan could not have avoided debt and difficulty.

Madge hinted this to me when we were alone one afternoon. " Cicely wants to be married, and she could marry to-morrow if she chose," said she. " But she toils like a little slave, and hides her trouble, and all for — oh, I am worse than good for nothing ! " Then she ran up stairs and brought down her violin, and worked hard for three weeks after that. As Joan pointed out, it was useless for Madge to seek engagement as a teacher of the piano. She was so beautiful that she would be sure to get into trouble. She couldn't help people falling in love with her. It would never do for her to go into a private family, and schools have to be' careful. All that was no fault of Madge's. Of course, there was the probability that she would marry before long ; only the probability was rendered vague by the fact that ever since the age of sixteen she had been surrounded with admirers, and had never Vet found one that she could like well enough to engage herself to.

" I don't know what is the matter with me," said she, when she was under one of her fits of depression. " I try to do right, yet all goes wrong. I can't even like any one well enough to be his wife." These fits of depression were frequent. Most people saw hcr when she was in high, boisterous spirits, and thought her careless and giddy. Yet I know that she was more frequently unhappy than gay- And she deserved to be unhappy, some would say, thinking only that she was idle and vain and frivolous. But that is not my way of thinking. I say that beautiful women are more to be pitied than envied and the next blessing to a good heart that can be be stowed on a girl is a plain, homely face. One day when Madge had mastered her part in Herald's berceau (arranged for violin and piano), I asked Potter to stay at home on the following Monday, and hear her play it by way of encouraging her in further endeavour.

He gave me his promise, and as Monday was a day of pouring rain, he kept his premise . We made a music-stand of an easel, and set it in the middle of the room where Madge wished to play. I went to the piano, and Potter seated himself on the black box which contained his properties. Madge was in high spirits that day, and as she took her place a little on one side of the easel her young fresh face sparkled with blushing gaiety. Potter was very proud of his daughter, and fond of her in his selfish way, and as he swung his foot to and fro, filling his pipe, he looked at her through his half closed eyes, his head on one side, critically. I struck the note for her to tune her instrument. She had brought it to the proper pitch, and was drawing a long note to make sure, when she caught sight of her father, and a roguish smile broke over her face.

" Are you ready ? " I asked " Wait a bit ! " cried Potter, who had put his pipe in his mouth, and was now, with his hands held horizon tally, forming an imaginary frame. " Come here, Hol derness." I crossed to his side. " Wouldn't that make a jolly picture, eh ? " Madge knew what was going on in her father's mind, and maintained the pose that had excited his admiration — her bow over the violin, with the most "i struck the note." exquisite turn in her beautiful wrist, her rose-tipped little finger up, her white chin dimpled on the brown violin, her head a little inclined, and that arch smile animating her lovely face and eyes. " Capital subject, eh ? — that ought to take, Jack." I admitted that if he could paint a picture like the original, it must command success. "I'll do it!" he cried, with enthusiasm — "there's that forty-eight by thirty-six I primed in the autumn will be just the thing," and he turned to the pile of unfinished canvases behind him.

" What do you think of my grey velvet, papa?" asked Madge, who was as mad as her father. " The very thing, with a thundering, strong back ground," replied Potter, searching for the canvas. " Look alive: nothing like striking the iron while it's hot." O O Madge wanted no incentive ; she threw down her violin, and sped away to change her dress. I crossed the room, sadly disappointed, and closed the piano, for which there was no further use. " A pretty method of encouraging a girl in serious studies," I grumbled ; " a wise course to take with a vain, a spoiled child, whose future happiness depends upon her becoming staid and reasonable ! " When I think now of the vital influence that picture had upon the girl's destiny, I wonder what the consequences would have been had her father, at this juncture, acted like a prudent man.

" Never mind," thought I, as I left Sunnyside ; "his enthusiasm will have worked itself out by to-morrow, and, on Wednesday, we can return once more to serious things." 'S' But, on Wednesday, I found Madge standing in her grey velvet, and her father smoking and painting, just as I had left them on Monday, and, on Friday, it was just the same, though the weather had cleared up, and the sun tempted people into the open air. " It is a most extwa'wdinawy thing," said Horace Clinton. " Potter has never been known to work for thwee consecutive days in the whole course of his extwa'wdinawy caweer." He surprised everybody, and those most who knew him best. One can account for his perseverance in two ways. In the first place, he had succeeded in painting a remarkably good picture, in a very short space of time ; and secondly, his daughters had conspired to flatter him to the top of his bent, impelled thereto by the hope that he might be got to finish the picture in time to send it to the Academv.

"PAINTING, .UST AS I HAD LEFT THEM." Potter had always expressed great contempt for the Royal Academy, declaring that those artists who were out of the exhibition had more reason to be proud than those whose works were accepted ; nevertheless, when the work was finished and set up in frame, and he had admired it as much as any one else, he con sented, though with pretended indifference, to its being sent in. After that, it was rather amusing to see with what caution he packed it in a case, and how carefully he held it, as the cab drove away with him to Burlington House. We were all anxious for the result. There was a fortnight of suspense, and then we grew more hopeful when the first batch of rejections were out, and Potter had received no message from the hanging committee ; from that time, Potter was never absent from the house when the postman called.

I was at Sunnyside when, at length, the official letter was handed to him. He had not the courage to open it ; Madge took it from his hands, and, having broken the seal, exclaimed: " A varnishing ticket, papa. Oh ! I ain to be in the exhibition ;" and then she flung her arms round her father's neck, and kept her face on his shoulder, to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes. I had got four stalls from the manager for that o o night, and it was arranged that Joan and Cicely should meet us at the doors ofthe Theatre, so I had the pleasure of seeing them when Madge put the varnishing ticket in their hands. It was touching to see their delight. As I went into my orchestra, I saw all their heads together, and I knew what they were talking about. I glanced round from time to time during the per formance, and found them more often whispering together than listening to what was going on.

Never theless, I am sure that no one in the Theatre enjoyed the evening more than they did. When I saw them, on coming out, it had been decided that Madge could not go to the Academy in the grey velvet, because it would attract attention, and look as if she wished to identify herself with the portrait, but they were to go through Regent Street after school the next day, all three, and choose something to be made up at once for the first of May. The two elder sisters never for a moment seemed to think that new dresses were necessary for them. It was like the story of Cinderella reversed. " I wonder if many people will stop to look at my portrait ? " said Madge, " and whether the newspaper critics will say anything about it ? " "Oh, of course they will," said Cicely, who, as I have said, was very simple and naive ; " they always must find fault with something."