Ruth Maxwell

Chapter I. Tt

was Ruth Maxwell's birthday, and she *- was five-and-twenty. It was a day she had been looking forward to for some time past, for on its arrival she was to come into possession of a house of her own, and a good fortune ; at least it seemed riches to her, for up to that time she had been very poor, and entirely dependent on her step-mother. It was two years since she had known of the pleasant things in prospect for her, should she live to attain the age of twenty five. She had been aware, also, that, 13 VOL. I. should she chance to die the very day before her birthday, her expected possessions would all go to the man who held them in trust for her, and who was himself the recipient of the other moiety of her aunt's property. Though the word " moiety " has been used, it is not to be supposed that Ruth Maxwell, Mrs. Penrose's niece, expected to be placed in the same position, in regard to worldly goods, as Mr. John Penrose, the nephew of Mr. Penrose, the wealthy brewer of Castle ford.

The family of Penrose had been well known in that ancient town for the last century or so, as bankers and brewers, especially in the latter department, where the fame of the old establishment had long been recognized, and had extended far beyond its own immediate locality. It Avas to the late head of this large business that Ruth Maxwell was indebted for the bequest which came to her more immediately from her own aunt, Avho had, late in life, married the wealthy brewer, Mr. Penrose. They had no children of their o.vn, and were both long past their first youth when this marriage took place. They lived, however, for some years to gether in perfect harmony and apparent comfort, believing, no doubt, that they had enjoyed as much felicity as falls to the lot of married mortals in general. Mr. Penrose was the first to quit this mortal scene, and leave all the treasures he had heaped up in the course of a long life.

He died as he had lived, with much com posure, leaving his property to his nephew, charged with a handsome annuity to his wife, Avhich at her death was to go half to her own niece and half to his own nephew. b There were endless conditions and restric tions annexed to Ruth's share of the in heritance, and the will itself Avas a miracle of legal intricacy, the reading of which in full was calculated to soften the brain of anyone who was not born as .veil as bred a la.A7yer. The fortunate heir, John Penrose, al though an able man of business himself, Avas fain to be thankful for an abstract of the lengthy document, which his considerate solicitor placed in his hands, saying, as he pointed to the original last will and testa ment of the late Mr. Penrose, " Nothing less would satisfy your good uncle.

It has been the work of years ; but I think an hour or two of patient considera tion first of this little abstract will enable you to encounter this piece de resistance at your leisure." Ruth kne.v but little of the relations to Avhom she was so greatly indebted. It was ten years since she had seen either, and then she went' to spend a month Avith her father's only sister and her husband, Mr. Penrose. She remembered seeing his nephew, Avho was at that time an inmate of their house, and about twenty, Avhilst she was a shy, tall, unformed girl of fifteen. When Ruth tried to recall this nephew to her recollection, it seemed he had made but little mark in her memory. He had evidently taken but scant notice of her at that time. Still, if she failed in her endea vours to recall anything to his advantage, she could not remember that in any Avay he had given her cause for dislike.

She had a vague impression that whenever he was called upon to do anything for her as the young lady visitor, he performed his task quietly and kindly, or perhaps it had better be called " civilly." Ruth was rather anxious to recall her impressions concerning this gentleman, as she found her future prospects were much bound up in his — that is, he had a good deal of power left in his hands regard ing Miss Maxwell's half of the property left by her aunt, and on any violation of the conditions, it would all revert to Mr. John Penrose himself. It was rather a mortifying position for a young Avornan like Ruth, who was by nature independent and energetic. Still it was so great a blessing to have anything of a competence in pro spect, that she felt it would be ungrateful to quarrel Avith the conditions by which she found herself bound.

Ruth was entitled by her aunt's will, not only to the eight hundred a year which fell to her share, but also to the pleasant house the old couple had always lived in, Avith such plate and furniture as had been in her aunt's possession from the time of her husband's death. To this house was also attached a garden and small paddock, Avhich became Ruth's property at the stipu lated time. It would be tedious to enumerate all the clauses annexed to this possession also, but the principal ones were, that she should enter im mediately into occupation of the said tene ment, and live there herself, on pain of for feiture, as she could neither sell the place nor let it, nor even lend it, nor leave it for more than a few months, unless with the ac quiescence of the above John Penrose, to whom it would lapse by reason of any failure on the part of the said Ruth Max- Avell in these conditions.

These several clauses and restrictions had often been dis cussed by Ruth and her step-mother, Mrs. Maxwell. It Avas the day before Ruth's birthday that Mrs. MaxAvell said quietly, more, perhaps, in way of thinking aloud than designed for her companion's ear — " I daresay they intended that you and Mr. John Penrose should marry some day." Ruth heard and looked up quickly, .vhilst a slight flush came into her usually pale face. She answered gently, " I do not think they were match-making people, mother ; and certainly it would be a bad way to attain such an end — I mean the placing Mr. Penrose in such supreme authority over me. But," she added Avith a smile, and checking herself, " I daresay they meant kindly and well — no doubt thinking that property of any kind is so new to me that I ought not to have unlimited control over it, even at the advanced age of five-and-tAventy."

Ruth and her step-mother were on very happy terms. They Avere nearly alone in the Avorld, and had lived together ever since the second marriage of her father, when she was a little child of five years old. She had grown up a graceful, pleasing looking woman, with a tall, flexible figure, delicate but firmly-cut features, dark grey eyes, and soft brown hair, several shades lighter than her eyebrows and the long lashes which Avere nearly black. It was an attractive face to those who were in the habit of studying it, and its changing expressions ; but the want of colour in general prevented Ruth's attaining the distinction of being reckoned a beauty. Few people had ever thought of her as such, though it happened sometimes that those who could discern and appreciate the rare symmetry of form and feature peculiar to Ruth, preferred it to any brilliancy of com plexion displayed by others who might be more admired.

Her step-mother had moved in a very different position of life before her second marriage, and, when young, had been reckoned a decided beauty. She was, in fact, one of the prettiest girls of her time, when she married her first husband, Mr. Beaumont, of Harewood Park, near Castle ford, and was still more admired as his wife. She had, however, descended from her high estate, and, at the time her step daughter succeeded to her inheritance, she was a lonely widow with whom trial and trouble, even more than time, had done their work, and rendered poor Mrs. Max well the fragile, faded w7reck of her former self she was then. As she and Ruth sat and talked of her coming prosperity, the thought .vould intrude itself into the elder woman's heart, " And then, when Ruth is rich and independent, she will be sure to marry soon, and then — she will leave me — and I shall be alone in this cold world — quite alone !"

It was this apprehension Avhich caused the remark made relative to Mr. Penrose, in whom she fancied she already saw the future husband of her step-daughter. Not but that she would have tried to rejoice in any good that might have befallen Ruth, who had always been a loving child to her ; still she looked forward with dread to the long, lonely, blank future that might be in store for her. No one who could have read these thoughts would have imagined that Mrs. Maxwell had then, besides the children she had lost (a brother and sister of her stepdaughter's), two living children — that she was still the mother of a son and a daugh ter, both hopeful, living children of her first marriage. Such however was her relationship to Louis Beaumont, whose name was familiar throughout the county where he lived, who was a man of unblemished character, a per fect gentleman in manners and appearance, and the master of a large property and fine place.

While his sister Maude, nearly ten years younger than himself, was as widely noted for her beauty and such accomplish ments as would easily have eclipsed the less brilliant attractions of Ruth Maxwell, the surgeon's daughter. But neither Mr. Beau mont nor his sister knew anything of their mother as Mrs. Maxwell. It was even many years since the familiar name of mother had passed their lips. To the young man, who was now in his thirtieth year, the word RUTH MAXAVELL. mother had become strange, and full of bitter associations and unpleasant memories. To the sister, so much younger, it signified little or nothing. Maude Beaumont was but three years old when her mother left her and married again, and being but a t Avelvemonth old Avhen her father died, the recollection of ever having had parents faded almost entirely from her mind.

From the day of that second marriage, which con verted the rich and admired .vidow of Mr. Beaumont of Harewood into the poor and unnoticed wife of a second-rate medical man — from that day and hour Mrs. Max- Avell had never seen, or had the poAver of seeing, the children of her first marriage. It Avas an old story ; Mrs. Beaumont, in marrving again as she had done, had sacri ficed everything, save honour, to her wo man's love. Her first marriage had been in every way highly approved of, both in her own family and by the world in general. It was considered most proper and suitable, and yet it had not been a very happy one. There was nothing, however, very tangible to complain of. Mr. Beaumont was well matched in age and in position of life to the daughter of his neighbour, Sir Christo pher Harding.

After a few weeks' acquaintance, and subsequent love-making on Mr. Beaumont's part, he was successful in win ning the affections of Amelia Harding, who forthwith became his wife. She was very young, and he was desperately in love, ac cording to his capability of entertaining that sentiment. All Miss Harding's friends thought her a very fortunate girl when she married Mr. Beaumont, of Harewood Park, ♦ with an income of fifteen or twenty thousand a year, and it never came into the head of the beautiful and happy young bride to think it could ever be otherwise with her. By the end of the first year of her married life, Mrs. Beaumost began to suspect she had made a mistake, and that wealth and position were not everything in the world, and to apprehend that the husband with whom she shared the many advantages they com manded might be wanting in those qualities which are essential to the happiness of mar ried life.

Mr. Beaumont had no great faults of character, and yet he was not a companion able person ; and it was but too evident, ere long, that he did not desire to find a constant companion in his young wife. He made it apparent to her that, when they were not obliged to be together in society, he preferred being alone. Her pursuits were not his, and he liked to go his own way unfettered and uncontrolled, as in his bache lor days ; her constant presence was a gene. Mrs. Beaumont had not married merely on the strength of her husband's fortune and position in the county. She had entertained a girlish affection for the first man who had told her he loved her, and was altogether so unobjectionable in manner and appearance as her husband. But she was (almost un known to herself) capable of a far deeper, truer devotion, had it been called forth by any reciprocal sentiment on Mr. Beaumont's part.

It had failed, and she was thrown back upon herself, with all her treasure of womanly love unappreciated. Still she was of a bright, cheerful nature, and blessed with great sweetness of temper. She therefore had to make the best of her situation, and RUTH MAXAVELL. 17 to fret as little as she could over the dis covery that, as far as her husband's society went, her married life was a failure. VOL. I. c

Chapter II

mOWARDS the close of the first year of -*- their married life, their eldest child, a boy, was born ; then it was nine years be fore another came, and that was a girl. It may be supposed that Mrs. Beaumont Avas a very devoted mother. Every woman who has tasted something of the bitterness of dis appointment in her Avifely attachment, turns with redoubled ardour towards the little being who seems sent in an especial manner to make up for the want of all other love. A mother's love for her first child ! Who needs write upon that subject, or dilate upon the joys of that new and wondrous Avorld into which that young existence leads the happy author of it? Mrs. Beaumont was no exception to the general feeling. She Avas but nineteen when her boy was born, and she had already be gun to be conscious of some of the desolating experiences of an uncongenial marriage.

No doubt she hoped, Avith all a young .vise's trusting love, that this great event would in duce her husband more constantly to seek her society than he had hitherto done, and that the charms of this exceptionally beau tiful baby would make him forget everything in the world save its existence and the delights of its infantile companionship. Vain hope indeed ! Mr. Beaumont was well pleased with the birth of his son and heir, and said and did all that Avas customary on such occasions, to testify his satisfaction, and attest the importance of the event. The c child grew and prospered, was a healthy, handsome boy, and got through all infantine perils Avith such ease and expedition as to cause no undue solicitude as to his eventual welfare. In fact, Mr. Beaumont was per fectly contented, for the first seven years of his life, to leave his boy to the undisputed management of his mother, and tbe experienced nurse Avho shared the charge Avith her.

He was not naturally fond of children — he disliked noise, and anything like fuss or worry. So Master Louis Avas more frequently ordered out of the dra.ving-room, when his father came into it, than sent for to make the agreeable, whilst it pleased him to remain in that apartment. At seven years old, a tutor .vas engaged by Mr. Beaumont himself ; and at nine, preparations were making for sending the young gentle man to school, when another important event occured in the family — his little sister made her appearance. It was soon after her birth that Mr. Beau mont, during a long day's hunting, caught a chill, Avhich resulted in a dangerous at tack of cold, that, after weary alternations of hope and fear, terminated fatally in the course of a twelvemonth. During that long, lingering illness, he and his wife Avere brought nearer together than they had been in all the years of their married life, but still Avithout much happy result.

Her anxious attentions, though well meant and sincere, were only worrying to the irritable invalid ; and whilst, to a certain degree, he permitted, he inwardly deprecated and disliked them. It was with no unkind feeling towards his wife, and arose only from his constitutional dislike to being made an object of constant care and observation. Mr. Beaumont at that time began to take more pleasure in the companionship of his boy than of his mother. The child had, on his part, a sort of shy admiration and affec tion for his father, which had all unconsci ously been growing up in his young heart all his life, although so little noticed by his father in his infancy. Still, with childish ingratitude (although fond enough in a way of his mother), he clung with delighted pride and preference to his father's society.

It was a pleasure, however, which the boy enjoyed in the most undemonstrative man ner — never by word or deed testifying the joy he experienced Avhen permitted to bring his book or his drawing into the invalid's room, and employ himself quietly there. It was that very undemonstrative quietness Avhich made the boy a more welcome com panion than the poor anxious wife, whose heart lay on her lips and shone in her wist ful eyes whenever her husband coughed, or moved uneasily in his chair, as his breathing became oppressed. The boy took apparently no notice, and the invalid could sigh, or even moan, without running the risk of ex citing any anxious inquiry, or having hope less remedies forced on his attention, with the fatigue of declining all such A7ain efforts for his relief. It was during that weary lingering year of anxious suspense, often repulsed — though sometimes tolerated — that Mrs. Beaumont found her chief support and comfort in the society of Kenneth Maxwell, who had been appointed by the London physician to watch her husband's case, and send daily reports of his patient.

Although he had been a husband, and was still a father, Mr. Maxwell was far too young to have risen to any degree of RUTH MAXAA7ELL. eminence in his profession. He was, how ever, naturally clever, Avell educated, and gentlemanlike. He had been chosen by Dr. Lethbridge as a fitting person for the confi dential position in which he placed him. Kenneth Maxwell had entered upon his pro fession as an army surgeon — and accom panied his regiment to India, where his good looks and gentlemanlike address won the heart of one of his Colonel's pretty daughters; and no objection being made to the match, they were married, after a short acquaintance. Losing his young wife after a very brief experience of married happiness, Mr. Max well relinquished his post, and returned to England .vith his little daughter.

Having no fortune, and few family ties, circumstances brought him to the town of Castleford, and there he elected to fix his residence, Avith an elder sister (afterwards Mrs. Penrose) who was to keep his house and take care of little Ruth. He was just beginning to make his way in the neighbourhood around, when Mr. Beaumont's case came under his care ; and very fortunate did Mr. Maxwell esteem him self when the great Dr. Lethbridge saw fit to place so great a responsibility in his hands. He felt perfectly equal to the trust de pending on his medical knowledge and skill, and devoted all his energies to the benefit of his patient. Thus he came to be a constant inmate of the sick man's house. But never dreaming for a moment, at that time, of his patient's wife being anything more to him than the most uninteresting of the many Avives who had sick husbands to nurse and comfort, and whom he attended in his pro fessional career.

Nor, be it remarked, .vas there ever the slightest, lightest indication on Mrs. Beaumont's part of any feeling that was incompatible with a wife's strictest duty and affection. Their acquaintance Avas indeed begun at that time, but their intimacy was of a later date. Still in those days the troubled anxious woman found her chief stay and comfort in the presence of Kenneth Max well. Mr. Beaumont, too, liked his new medical attendant ; if he had not happened to fancy Mr. Maxwell, all Dr. Lethbridge's eloquence Avould have failed in the recom mendation ; but the fact was, the restless patient found something of a soothing and even pleasurable nature in the tone of Mr. Maxwell's conversation and company. Mrs. Beaumont Avas too glad, in observing the good effects of Mr. Maxwell's visits, to feel annoyed that all her efforts to en tertain and enliven could never produce the same results.

She .vas an unselfish Avoman, and eagerly Avelcomed the man who so far could benefit her husband. Little Louis Avas not as amiable as his mother ; he had a childish jealousy of the " Doctor," for his own company was generally dispensed with when Mr. Maxwell was announced. He had other causes, too, of dislike to this unconscious subject of the feeling. " The Doctor," as the boy always termed Kenneth Maxwell, had interfered two or three times to prevent some pernicious acts of indulgence towards him on his mother's part — for all of which, although saying nothing at the time, Louis Beaumont entertained a species of grudge against his father's medical friend. Time went on, and in spite of all that care and skill and anxious Avatching could do, Mr. Beaumont rapidly approached his end. Ere that time came, his ouly brother, Colonel Beaumont, returned from foreign service, in time to be with him the last few weeks of his existence.

To this brother Mr. Beau mont committed the entire charge of his family ; and it Avas found, on his will being read, that Colonel Beaumont was left sole guardian of his children, with absolute power to arrange for them in every particular. To his widow was bequeathed a large and hand some jointure, to be enjoyed by her — as well as continued residence at HareAVOod Park — as long as she remained his widow. Should she chance to marry again, the small sum of four thousand pounds was the alter native. Mrs. Beaumont had no fortune of her own, and her father was dead; so, unless she married extremely well, it was obviously her interest to remain as she was — mistress of HareAvood Park (till her son's majority), and with a large jointure at her command, besides the very liberal provision allowed to her for his two children whilst under age.

The first year of her widowhood passed very quietly and uneventfully. She fancied her little girl was delicate, and was herself so unnerved by all she had gone through during that weary year of watching in vain, that Mr. Maxwell strongly advised Mrs. Beaumont to change the scene entirely, and take a house near the sea for some months. She submitted her plans to her brother-in law, as she soon found she could not move her children a step without his concurrence. However, she was a woman who had never been used to rule, and was, moreover, rather disposed to yield to the authority of others, so she smothered her mortification, and ap plied to Colonel Beaumont for advice — she would not, even to herself, call it leave. He responded in a pleasant and gentleman ly manner, and she accordingly took her children Avith her and spent the next year in moving from one pleasant sea place to another.

Colonel Beaumont had signified his intention of placing his eldest Avard at a good school, preparatory for Eton, in a short time; and Mrs. Beaumont, knoAving that had been her late husband's intention, never dreamt of opposing the plan. Soon after her return to Harewood Park, Colonel Beaumont came and fetched his nephew away, and the AvidoAV and her little girl were left in the large desolute mansion alone. The first parting Avith her boy was no doubt a great trial, and yet she Avas not altogether sorry. Louis felt his father's death far more deeply than anyone suspected, and he was often found moping about iu solitary places, which had formerly been frequented by his father, Avhen he Avas per mitted to accompany him. The little sister was no playmate for the boy of ten years old ; and haA'ing then no tutor, his mother often desired to keep him with herself — for bidding the companionship of servants.

Thus it was that the child became restless and wayward — longing for something, he kne av not what, and often crying for the father of whom he had in fact seen so little. The summons to prepare for school was therefore not wholly unwelcome, either to the child or his mother. Still the boy deeply resented a remark made somewhat incautiously in his hearing by Mr. Maxwell, to the intent that it was high time he should be going to school, as he would become utterly spoilt if left much longer to da .vdle about in idleness. A bitter and angry feeling sprang up in the boy's heart, and he turned a sullen look on the " Doctor " and his mother, with whom he also felt displeas ed for listening with apparent complacency to his remarks. "As if," thought he in his childish wrath, " he had a right to come here whenever he pleases, and talk to my mamma, whilst I am to be sent away from my own poor papa's house.

Well, I only know when I am a man, and it is mine, Doctor Maxwell shall never come into it." However, for the time being, Master Louis went his way to school, and at rare intervals his enemy, as he considered him, continued to make visits to the Park, which, it must be admitted, were not altogether professional. It is needless now to recapitu late, or to inquire into the state of these two hearts, which, in their utter loneliness, were unconsciously drawing so near to each other. The great event which brought poor Mrs. Beaumont and her medical friend into daily communion at that time, need only be briefly mentioned. It was the dangerous illness of little Maude, who sickened with a fever which was very prevalent in the neighbourhood. There was no doubt that, humanly speaking, the child owed its re covery to the devoted care bestowed upon it, joined to the medical skill displayed by the doctor.

The mother's gratitude knew no bounds Avhen assured of that fact by her London physician, Dr. Lethbridge. Colonel Beaumont came down to see his little niece, and make a hurried visit to his sister-in-law in her trouble. The child recovered rapidly, and soon lost all traces of the danger she had passed through. Not so the mother — the danger deepened around her; but she was too VOL. I. d fascinated with her peril to be able to seek safety, either in flight, or in forbidding her house to the man who had saved her child's life. At last Kenneth Maxwell's eyes were opened too, and he did what he could, after all the mischief had been done. He left his house and practice, and went away. But, " Avhat will be, will be." A few months later he and Mrs. Beaumont accidentally met in London, where he had betaken him self.

After a fe.v heroic resolutions, and a great deal of misery on both sides, their resolution gave way, and they agreed at last to run all chances — to marry and be happy.

Chapter III

A ND married they were, just after the -*-■*- close of Mrs. Beaumont's second year of widoAvhood. But as to the happiness — what of that ? Well, after a certain fashion, it must be confessed they were happy to a certain extent, for they were devotedly attached to each other. Many a second marriage is happier than the first. Perhaps it is because people know better what is likely to suit them than they did in the days of their thoughtless youth, and expect less perfection from the object of their new choice. d2 Mrs. Beaumont had found out that great possessions do not confer happiness ; but she had hardly calculated on the miseries arising from poverty and a precarious in come. Still less had she believed it possi ble that any mortal man would have the cruelty to separate her from her children, because she had chosen to marry a man who had saved the life of one of them, and been the highly-esteemed medical attendant of her late husband.

Yet she was aware that she had, in a manner, descended from her high social position in contracting this second marriage, and that she should have to brave some unpleasant remarks, and pos sibly become the subject of a nine days' wonder and gossip ; but that over, and all the unpleasant remarks said, and observa tions made, no doubt Colonel Beaumont would hear reason, and be amenable to such representations and arguments as she should address to him. So she thought, or, at least, so she said to her husband a week after their marriage, when she had time to discuss the all-important subject. Kenneth MaxAvell feared things Avould not run so smoothly as his ne .vly-wedded Avife seemed to think. He had grave doubts and misgivings on the subject. He could not but blame himself for the headlong pas sion which had carried all before it, and was likely to bring such woe on the woman he loved only too Avell.