Nothing Venture, Nothing Have. A novel

Front matter

NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. il Jfolttl. BY ANNE BEALE, AUTHOB OP " GLADYS THE REAPER," ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1864. LONDON : PRINTED BV WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CR06S. CONTENTS. CHAPTEK PAOB I. — Kern in Clover 1 II. — News from Abroad 12 III. — Ann Ellis 28 IV. — Mb. Oliver Bat Undeceived .... 46 V.— Ellen's Teiumph 67 VI. — The Prodigal's Return 91 VII. — Ellen and her Bridesmaids .... 112 VIII. — Lachlan is Feted by his Friends . . . 132 IX. — The Eve of Aline's Twentieth Birthday . 152 X. — Aline's Twentieth Birthday .... 172 XI. — Aline's First Real Lesson 193 XII.— A Friend tn Need CONTENTS. CHAITEE PAGE XIII. — Aline becomes a Bone of Contention . .22 XIV. — Teouble among the Downs .... 241 XV. — Madam Rambully Chained to the Farm . . 261 XVI. — Lachlan Lectures his Great Aunts . . 280 XVII. — Ellen Receives her Visitors .... 299 CHAPTER

Chapter I. Kern In Clover

Kern had been in London nearly a twelvemonth when Kezia wrote, in the name of her father, a very pressing letter for her return. Although Mr. Lyons was proud of the attention shown to his favourite daughter, he did not like to be so long separated from her, and said that, even if she were to return again to London, she must come back soon. The following reply came to Kezia's letter : — " Great George Street, " May 2nd, 18—, " My dear Kezia, "lam much obliged for your kind letter, and glad that you all wish to see me back again. vol. n. b Tell my father, with my love, that I must beg for a few weeks more, as the London season is just beginning, and uncle has promised to take me to the picture galleries, the Opera, concerts, and other places, for my further improvement. I am sure Miss Eagles will agree with me in saying that after having had masters for music, singing, painting, and languages, it would be a pity not to avail myself of these further advantages.

If uncle had not decided upon educating Luke for the medical profession, I believe he and aunt would fairly adopt me ; but girls have always to yield to boys. I hope mother will not be too much overcome at parting from Luke. Tell her she will have my valuable services instead of his! I am thankful that there is a little family pride left amongst us, and that the boys have some wish to rise above mediocrity. Father must be pleased if mother is not. Lyons is a good old name. I wish Lachlan were a little more gentlemanlike. I do not exactly mean that he is not a gentleman in himself, but he is so gauche. You understand French enough to know what that means. He does not come here often, but when he does, he appears in such commonplace, ill-made clothes, and takes so little pains with his manners, that I cannot help feeling ashamed of him though he is very clever, and really very good-looking.

But he is such a gigantic young man! I believe that railway work makes men grow enormously. It is not only height but breadth, and of course, at his age, he ought to know how to manage his carriage, and, as the boys used to say, get his hair cut. When I entreat him to do so, he says I may cut it at once right off to my taste if I will, but that he is not acquainted with a hairdresser. Then he is so rude to Ensign Love ; who, by the way, is very attentive to me. " But uncle and aunt quite delight in Lachlan, and I know they have offered to lend him money, but he will not have it. Uncle called on Mr. Markman, who has been here several times, and is a charming man, and he says Lachlan is some thing super-excellent. " Now I must tell you of a new feather in my cap. Sir John Nux has returned from abroad somewhat sooner than he intended.

His mother accompanied him, and they are now in London. She is a great invalid, though she looks well enough, but she fancies herself ill, and that is nearly as bad as being ill ; so uncle says, at least. NOTHLNG VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. Sir John recommended his mother to consult uncle, and he has been in attendance ever since they arrived in England. " One day they called here, and Sir John introduced Lady Nux to aunt and me. Sir John named me as Miss Dove, but uncle, who was in the room, said that my name was Lyons, and that I was his niece and not his daughter. " ' Surely you know, Sir John,' added he, to my utter chagrin, ' that she is the daughter of Mr. Job Lyons of the old Manor at Yeo ?' " Sir John looked astonished, and declared his ignorance of the fact. I felt myself blush up to my eyes.

" Lady Nux looked inquiringly at Sir John, not having heard distinctly what my uncle meant. '"Strange coincidence, mother,' he said; ' Miss Lyons is a branch of the old family from whom my grandfather's grandfather, or some such person, bought the Downs property.' "Lady Nux smiled and bowed, and said ' strange,' and there it ended. " She is charming, and not at all proud. She has a foreign manner and appearance, from having lived so long abroad, that is quite captivating. She took to me at once. That very day she and Sir John drove me with them to Hyde Park, and the next they took me to Drury Lane Theatre. Pray let the Loves know this ! The Ensign looked fiercely at Sir John, who nodded at him. " Since this first introduction I have been to all sorts of places with Lady Nux. I have danced with lords and baronets, and officers without number.

I find no difficulty whatever in talking to these aristocrats. It is only to get up the gossip of the theatres, picture galleries, and peerage, and you are as much at home with them, as you are with the boors of Yeo — excuse the term — when you know who is engaged to who, and what is the price of wheat. " Uncle is constantly telling me that I am in a false position, but aunt likes it just as well as I do, and is pleased at the notice Lady Nux takes of me. " Sir John told me he had left Mr. Oliver Bat in Italy in full hue and cry after pictures and painters. He could not tear him away from the picture galleries. I did not know his taste lay that way. I thought he was simply a book worm. " As I am just going to have a singing lesson from Signor Belli — oh! such a handsome man, with the most delightful Italian-English accent — I will conclude, with our united love to all, and remain, " Your affectionate sister, " Kern Lyons."

This letter created a great sensation at Yeo. Mr. and Mrs. Lyons were pleased at the elevatiou of their handsome daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Bull were sorely vexed, and the younger branches were somewhat jealous. But the village was in a flame ! Mrs. Lyons took care to make it generally known that her daughter was " always with Sir John and Lady Nux," and the spark gathered. " Of course they don't know who she is," said Miss Daw. " Of course not," said Miss Ann. " But I don't wonder, sister," said Miss Harriet ; " the girl is so beautiful and accomplished, and you know the Lyonses are superior." "Fiddlesticks!" said both. " Generations ago ! The other day it was that Lachlan boy, and now it is this Kern." "And I'm sure I see nothing in her, do you, Aunt Ann, but conceit and folly, Aunt Margaret ?

There's Margaret Anne, quite as accomplished, I'm sure, and much more ladylike, but then she has not been introduced to Lady Nux ; and I'm sure Sir John admired her, for I saw him look at her several times, and I told her not to be so free with Mr. Perch and Captain Fin, because they might presume upon it, and then if Sir John pro posed, you know aunts, it would never do. I'm just going to look in upon Mrs. Lyons about some butter, and I shall find out everything." When Mrs. Love saw Mrs. Lyons, she was not greatly comforted. Mrs. Lyons forgot her com plaints and the ten children, and the poor times, in Kern's grandeur. " You see, Mrs. Love, it is as if the old times of my husband's family had come back, for Kern goes everywhere with Lady Nux, and dances with lords and ladies, and dukes and earls, and princes almost every night.

And your young relation, Mrs. Love, Lachlan — who ought to be the baronet, as you know, (there, do be quiet Jacob, pulling so) — as I was saying Mrs. Love, Lachlan is getting on." "I do not consider him as my relation, Mrs. Lyons. I just called upon you about some butter. I hope your daughter Kern will not forget how to make butter and cheese, Mrs. Lyons; as the Captain was saying the other day, better to be sticking to the dairy, than dancing in London!" "Oh! ma'am, my sister and the doctor are quite able to keep her from farm work if they choose. Kern says that she sees your son, Mr. Robert, very often, and that he's much improved." And in this wise went on the comments on Kern's communications — but as I must copy another private letter from Lachlan to Miss Eagles, which arrived about a month after Kern's, I will not further detail them.

" Great George Street, "July 6th, 18—. "My dear Miss Eagles, " The publishers tell me that your book will not be brought out until the autumn, which is a good season for novels, as people go to the sea-side, and want light literature to amuse them after London ! Poor things ! If I may judge from Cousin Kern, I should rather think they would want something heavy to keep their heads on their shoulders. Hers is nearly off. And no wonder ! Lady Nux is spoiling her ; Sir John and a dozen other fine gentlemen are worshipping her ; and her uncle and aunt are so proud of her, that they think no sacrifice too great to make for her. " But I must return to the subject of my letter. I feel very much like an author myself. When the proofs come for revision — they appear slowly, fortunately for me, as they always keep me two or three hours out of my bed — I am so afraid of leaving an error, that I go over them, and over again, until I think I know the book, thus far, by heart.

And a very clever book it is. Where did you get all that humour and pathos ? I should not have fancied you possessed either, from your general manner. "I have not been unmindful of your other com mission. I have spent every hour of holiday that Mr. Markman has given me, in the different picture galleries, but all that I have been able to discover is, that I have in me a very great love for fine pictures. When I am a rich man — which I mean to be one of these days — I shall have a picture gallery as well as a museum. " There is not, amongst the whole list of paint ers, one of the name of Eagles — nor one whose initials, or motto, could give one the least clue to such a name. I have bought catalogues and carried them home, and studied them ; but all in vain. " Mr. Markman pays me a regular clerk's salary, as he is kind enough to say I earn it, and do not need the teaching that an articled clerk would require.

" Yesterday I went to the Royal Academy, and there I met Mr. Oliver Bat. He was with a gentleman who was pointing out some of the pictures to him. Mr. Oliver did not know me, but I was determined to make myself known to him. I addressed him accordingly, and he shook hands very kindly with me. I thanked him for the money he had sent me, and told him, in answer to his questions, my past and present history. He seemed glad that the present was so promising, and asked me to call upon him. " Whilst I was talking to him, I could not help noticing the gentleman with whom he was. If it had not been rude, I think I should have asked him if he were not the very Mr. Eagles for whom I was seeking, his eyes were so much like yours. There was an expression in them that reminded me at once of you. He certainly was one of the most remarkable looking men I ever saw in my life.

"However, he and Mr. Bat passed on, and as my hour was expired, I left the Academy, and saw him no more. " Mr. Oliver Bat told me that he should soon be returning into Dorsetshire, and would take down anything for me that I might have to send. How I wish we could get the book ready to send by him. " I hope Mr. Eagles is well, and that Madam and Miss Rambully are also well. " I have been attending some lectures that have made me heartily ashamed of my own poor attempts. " Believe me, " Dear Miss Eagles, " Very truly yours, "Lachlan Lyons." " P.S. — I forgot to say that your book is already widely advertised for September."

Chapter II. News From Abroad

Expectation is a slow plodding of the brain. Time lags like a stage-waggon, and the mind grows as stolid as its four horses. To sit still and do nothing when some great event is coming by-and-by — you know not when — is to be like the solitary, sleepy traveller within the said waggon, wearily expecting London. But stage-waggons, like stage coaches, are ex tinct ; and people do not even sit still and wait now-a-days, as they did when Ellen Eagles waited for her book. So much depended on her book ! "II y va de ma vie;" she muttered to herself many times in the day, " and my life must go, if it does not clear up my difficulties." She began to find that there is nothing so hard to bear as the weight of a secret. She, who was naturally so straightforward, found great difficulty in managing the numerous little subterfuges she was obliged to have recourse to.

But, hardest of all, wras the endurance of her father's anxious looks and troubled questions. She saw that he had heard something about her that vexed him, and had not courage to speak to her about it. " Ellen, my darling," — he began one afternoon, and paused. They were sitting together in the little green and white parlour. The autumn sun was looking in upon them through the red leaves of the Vir ginian creeper, and across the heads ofthe monthly roses. It was Saturday, and therefore they were at leisure. Desks, books, and papers were before them, but they neither wrote nor read. Both father and daughter looked ill and un happy. The cheerfulness that used to reign between them was gone, and had left a dull silence in its place. They looked years older than they had done even a twelvemonth before, and thin threads of silver-white hair were visible in Ellen's jet-black locks.

Her father seemed to have caught sight of these, when he said — " Ellen, my darling " and paused. " Yes, father ?" said Ellen, looking up. " Tell me, my heart's-ease, my love, what is the matter with you ? I can bear this uncertainty no longer." "Nothing, dear father," said Ellen, trying to smile and to look firm. "Ellen! I may have taught you and your brother many things amiss, but I never taught you to lie." Mr. Eagles spoke with severity, and a tear sprang into his daughter's eye. His voice softened instantly. " Ellen ! my child ! my only earthly comfort ! Why keep secret from your father what pains you, and wears you down ? Is it that you cannot bear the contempt and neglect of these people of Yeo— you, who are so much their superior? Think of all the noble minds that have quailed beneath misapprehension, and rise above it Or is it that we cannot " — here Mr. Eagles' voice shook — " cannot find the son and brother that we have loved so madly and blindly ?

It is time that we break the ice and speak of him. I know that you have been trying to discover him, secretly, as I have been trying, for years, but in vain. Or is it that you — Ellen, darling, forgive me if I probe a wound — is it that you love one who palpably neglects us ? Only tell me what you suffer, that I may suffer with you, and so by sharing ease you of the burden of this secret trouble." Ellen bowed her head on her hands, and wept. Tears flowed down the furrowed cheeks of her father, but there was anger in his piercing eyes. "I have guessed aright, my child, and the friendship of years has grown into something stronger on your part, whilst on his — cold, cynical, heartless " " Hush, father — you mistake," muttered Ellen. Mr. Eagles rose, and putting his arms round his child, and pressing his lips on her hair, en treated her again to tell him all.

" Give me a few weeks longer, dear father," sobbed Ellen, " and I will tell you — this — this — my secret." "Ellen, poverty is harmless — pain is endurable — harass of mind is bearable — labour is sweet — so long as there is no secret between father and daughter. A few weeks more may kill you or me. You are pale, and thin, and wTasting away : I have lost my pleasure in life in seeing you thus ; do not delay." Ellen roused herself. "Believe me that there is nothing wrong beneath my innocent secret, father, and that it will end in setting us right with the world, and ourselves." There was a quick knock at the front door and a tap at the parlour door, followed instantly by Mr. Oliver Bat. He drew back intuitively, when he saw that Ellen was in tears, and her father trying to con sole her. The anonymous correspondent was in his mind in a moment.

But Ellen mastered the tears, the surprise, the joy, and rising, greeted her friend with a flushed cheek and trembling hand. Mr. Oliver held the hand a few seconds, and then turned to Mr. Eagles, who received him coldly. " I have brought a parcel from London for you, Miss Ellen," he said, "from young Lachlan Lyons. It is so heavy, that my groom is bringing it from the Lodge." "Thank you, Mr. Oliver," said Ellen, her countenance brightening with sudden animation. " Did you see Lachlan, then ?" asked Mr. Eagles. ' Yes, more than once. He is likely to get on in the world, I think, and is grown a fine, mus cular fellow— a regular Hercules. He says it is navvy work that has made him so big." " And where have you been since you left this country ?" " Principally in Italy. And now I must try to prepare you for good news.

What is the best preparation ? Instant relief from suspense, I believe. I have found William !" Mr. Eagles jumped from his seat, and grasped Mr. Oliver's shoulder, as if he were going to collar him. Miss Eagles clasped her hands, and screamed. The sudden shock of a great and un expected joy is harder to bear calmly than a great sorrow. Ellen Eagles found this. She could restrain the long pent-up current of her feelings no longer, and she had a violent fit of hysterics. The attention of the two men was immediately turned to her. Mr. Eagles was beside himself, and made her worse by lavishing upon her every term of endearment. Mr. Oliver, on the contrary, always self-possessed and master of his feelings, told her VOL. II. C authoritatively to be calm, and he would tell her all. But he held her hand firmly the while, and there was that in the pressure of his, which soothed her even more than his words.

At last the hysterical sobs ended in a flood of tears, that relieved her, and she tried to laugh at her weakness, and apologize for it. " I was too sudden," said Mr. Oliver, stroking the black hair as the head leaned upon her father's arm. He, too, seemed to see the white threads, and to be moved to unusual tenderness of manner. He used to smooth down the raven braids long years ago, and Ellen looked up at him with a sudden childish joy that moved him greatly. " Thank you, Mr. Oliver, I am better now. Will you tell us where my brother is, and when he is coming home ?" " He is in London now, and waits for his lather's summons." "Oh! my God! I thank thee!" said Mr. Eagles, bowing his head over his daughter, and letting fall the tears that had been gathering in At last the trio sat down quietly, and Mr. Oliver told them as follows, how he had found their son and brother.

"You remember, Ellen, that I told you that I thought I had seen William, and that he had not recognized me, when I was in Italy last. Well, this time I was determined to search for him ; so I set to work as soon as I was abroad. I did not go to Greece with Nux, but made a voyage amongst the painters instead. I think I visited every picture gallery iu Italy, and was nearly giving up in despair, when one day, at Florence, I met him, face to face, in the street. "Aged, bearded like a monkey, thin, pale, he was ; but I knew him by his eyes. He tried to escape me, but I caught hold of his arm, and said, ' William Eagles, I know you and you know me. It is no good to run away, for I shall follow you.' " He stood still, aud we shook hands. I scarcely think he was glad to see me. I made him come with me to my hotel, and told him all that I knew of you — your health and circum stanci " He listened, but told me nothing in return. as then minute in his inquiries about every - thing at Ye<> it poor Mary Bull.

When I said, unasked, that she was dead, he was greatly affected. " I never lost sight of him for days, and managed to work upon his feelings so as to draw forth a wish to revisit England. I did not venture to tell him that you would be glad to see him, because I scarcely knew whether you would receive him or not, after his long silence and neglect. " Of his own history he told me nothing, except that he was a celebrated painter, and had achieved the fame abroad that he had coveted at home. " He is morose and moody. The old temper is underneath the surface, but somewhat crusted over and kept down by the conventionalities of life. In spite of fame, of which he boasts, he is not happy. Still he lives in his art, to all out ward appearance, and is highly esteemed amongst his brother artists in Italy.

" He will soon be equally so iu England. His pictures have already reached large prices, though he was too late for the Exhibition. " But I am before my story. By dint of great persuasion I succeeded in getting him to England ; but we were weeks together in London before I could persuade him to let me tell you of his arrival there. He has some secret on his mind which makes him restless, and always starting at shadows. He declared he could never face you again, or any of the Bull family. " He is in wretched health — a very wreck of his old self, though handsome as the picture of the banished lord — something like it, in fact. " Even if you, Mr. Eagles, are forgiving enough to write to him I scarcely think he will come here. At one moment he says he will return to Italy, that he cannot breathe in this close, miserable atmosphere ; the next he declares there is no country like England.

" He is hipped and nervous. His hand trembles as if he were an habitual drunkard, but I believe him to be quite the reverse. "Ifhe came to Yeo — supposing that you write to recal him — it would be with the understanding that he is not to be questioned on his history. He evidently does not choose to say what reason he had for not writing to you for so many years. " Before I brought him over I made one proviso, which was, that he should not, as he used to do, dun you for money. He got into a passion at my even suggesting it, and asked me, as in old times, what money was good for, if not to enable a man to pursue the high aims of life — art and the like — but I was firm and obtained his promise." At this point of Mr. Oliver Bat's narrative Mr. Eagles interrupted him by a question, which was followed by others from Miss Eagles.

" Is he still poor, then ?" he asked. "Yes, I think so. At all events he had no ready money." " And you supplied him ?" asked Ellen. Mr. Oliver was silent. " How ungrateful I have been," she continued, looking at him with her piercing eyes softened by tears. The glance that was returned through the spectacles told as plainly as glance could tell, that the dry, cynical bachelor would do anything for her brother. " And he is ill ?" said Mr. Eagles. " I fear he is. He has a cough which he attri bates to English fog, but which I heard even at Florence ; and he is very much thinner than he used to be." "Does he care to see us again ?" asked Ellen. " Yes. That is to say he would care, if he were quite sure that he should not be questioned about the past, or reproached for it. He is painfully irritable."

"Was he so with you ?" " He would have been if I had let him ; but I stopped him short by telling him that it was our place, not his, to be irritable and captious." " Ah !" said Mr. Eagles, " if I can only see him once more before I die I should not care how he behaved to me. Thank you, — bless you — God will bless you, Mr. Oliver, for giving me back my son." " Then you will write to him ?" "Could you doubt it? Yes, and receive him on his own terms ; even to giving him all that 1 have." " And Ellen ?" " Will do the same," said Miss Eagles. " All I have on earth to see him once more." The trio were silent a while. At last Mr. Oliver said, hastily, "Ellen, j'ou look ill : you are ill. What can I give you ?" It was very evident that she was ill. Her face was white, and her lips were pale as those of a corpse.

She had kept her attention alive as long as the story lasted, and now, the first excitement being over, she felt suddenly faint. " I will go to bed," she said, and tried to rise from her chair. Mr. Oliver saved her from falling. " I will carry her upstairs," he said to Mr. Eagles; "show me the way." The agitated father preceded, and Mr. Oliver bore the fainting girl to her room, and laid her on the bed. He rang the bell violently, and the little maid appeared. " Get some woman immediately," he said to the child ; " a nurse, and the doctor." " Miss Lyons, sir ?" said the frightened Jenny. " Yes — yes," cried Mr. Eagles. In less than ten minutes, Kezia Lyons was in the room, breathless and bonnetless. She had only stopped to get some brandy and smelling salts. But when she arrived, Miss Eagles was slowly recovering, under the influence of the cold water, copiously thrown over her by Mr. Oliver Bat.

Poor Mr. Eagles was too distracted to know where to find any restoratives. " She will be better soon," said Kezia, taking her place by the bed ; "you had better go down, sir." The bewildered father kissed his child's pale lips, and obeyed mechanically. Mr. Oliver lingered a moment. " Let me feel her pulse, Miss Lyons," he said. He took her hand, and found that it was returning. She opened her eyes upon him aud smiled. He, too, kissed her cold forehead, and said, " God bless you, Ellen !" " I have known her from a child," he added, half apologetically, turning to Kezia. " I know, sir," said that gentle girl. " I was sure this must come upon her. She has been failing for months, and no wonder, I am sure." Mr. Oliver shook hands with Kezia, and begged her not to leave Miss Eagles. "Not till she is better, be assured," she said.