Otho; or, Clasped by a pearl and a topaz. A novel

Front matter

OTHO; OR, CLA.SPED BY A PEAEL AND A TOPAZ. Just Published. IMPORTANT WORK ON AUTHORSHIP. THE AUTHORS' MANUA Being a Complete Practical Guide to all Departments of Journalism, Literary Work generally, and Book-producing, with special advice in reference to Imaginative Literature. By Percy Russell. Author of " King Alfred," " After this Life," " A JourneviOrLJfke Taupo, and Australian Tales and Sketches," ppA. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, price 5s. Postage 4jd. [ ' y jjjy /. This Manual has been specially planned to afford real help to all desirous .of entering any branch of the Literary Profession. The information given is in all cases derived from actual personal experience extending over twenty years of uninterrupted work in all depart ments of working Literature. LONDON : DIGBY & LONG, Publishers, 18, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. A complete Catalogue of Novels, Travels, Biographies, Poems, $c.,free by post on appliceition.

OTHO; OE, CLASPED BY A PEARL AND A TOPAZ. J± NOVEL. BY MPtS. JANATTA LETITIA BROWN. LONDON DIGBY AND LONG, PUBLISHERS, 18, BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C. London Digby and Long, Publishers, 18 , Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. OTHO; OB, CLASPED BY A PEARL AND A TOPAZ.

Chapter I

" 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before." Campbell. Anchored on a majestic, mighty river, winding* between banks as high and woody as those of the Wye or Thames, time will carry us on the wings of imagination back to the mysteries and secrets of the dark past. An eastern sunset — the glorious god of day slowly sinking to rest — the scene is one grand magnificent picture. The. brilliant ravs of the setting sun, gilding alike stately palace and marble column, tower and terrace, fountain and tent, saint like priest and sinful outcast — the whole presents an i; OTHO ensemble which for beauty and splendour cannot be paralleled in the whole world. Constantinople was at one time the wonder as -well as the capital of the world; and during its growth, the chief cities of the old world were ransacked for material that could add to its grandeur.

Every country under the dominion of Rome sent its contributions towards the building of the new •capital. From Egypt were obelisks ; from Ephesus pillars of jasper ; from Greece came marble, and Rome itself was spoiled of its statues, that they might grace its rival. The Cross goes on marching year after year, until its mission will be accomplished ; century after century, eastward, westward, wonderful moves northward and southward. Mighty revolutions are pending in this evolving theatre of a world. New crusades, new empires, will join in this great march over the territories of the old-time Christendom ; but I linger, for I am not writing a story of history, nor about the ancient glories of warlike Greece and Home. At the time I write of, there resided in one of the quietest parts of Constantinople, in an old palace built in the middle ages, a very wealthy Greek merchant, and his only child, a daughter.

The terraces and gardens of his palace extended to the OTHO water's edge. The general appearance of the mansion was decayed, and time had shorn it of its former grandeur ; and its owner did nothing to improve it, wishing by its meanness to imply that he was poor, while amongst his own countrymen Constantine Beam enjoyed the reputation ot being a miser and enormously rich. His only companion was his daughter Serena, and her only attendant an old ugly negress, who served as maid, nurse, and companion. She could not remember her mother ; but several years ago she had lost the sweet companionship of an only sister ; and since she had run away, or had been taken away, the old Greek had been more stern and near and watchful than ever. Serena was very obedient to her father, whose idolatry of money had never induced him to win any affection from his children ; and it was not love, but fear that made Serena the obedient child she was.

Chapter II

'Tis the clime of the East ; 'tis the land of the sun. Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? " Byron It was the habit of the old Greek to leave Serena; and Bassina, the negress, for days and even weeks together alone ; but they knew that it was useless thinking to trouble at their solitary confinement. They never had any money to spend, but the old Greek did not starve them. While he was gone on these silent, secret journeys, no one knew or cared much about him. It was while he was away one day that Serena was seated in the garden close to the water, viewing the sunset. She was reclining on a crimson velvet cushion, playing carelessly with her pipe of Persian cherry and scented amber. Her dress was the usual Turkish embroidered vest, and rich cashmere shawls fell around her form ; the vest was silk, and the embroidery of seed pearls ; many coloured jewels flashed about her neck and arms ; her OTHO 5 dark hair, black as a raven's wing, was parted over her temples, and together with her large dark eyes served to bring out in matchless tints the clear com plexion and finely curved carnation lips ; a profile purely Grecian.

And as she sat there or lounged on her cushion playing with her pipe, and now and then sipping from a porcelain cup in a stand of filigree gold, which the old negress from time to time refilled with delicious Mocha, she formed a perfect picture of indolence and beauty, for she was indeed very beautiful. She appeared to be lost in thought, and her brows were dark, and as she drank her coffee she stamped her little sandelled slipper impatiently. A cry from the negress caused her to raise her eyelids and then rise quickly to her feet with a crimson blush and a haughtv glance. A man, a foreigner, has obtained access to the garden, which in Constantinople, even among the Greeks, is considered a very great breach of etiquette. He was not, however, calculated to alarm a Greek girl. Tall, robust, and handsome — he looked so brave and noble in his European dress, and his light blue eyes and fair complexion spoke the land of his birth, a northern clime.

He approached Serena and bowing low said, " I expected to find my good friend Beam, and I behold his " OTHO " Daughter," said Serena, crimson to her brow, for the glance of the stranger was ardent and admiring. After a few commonplace remarks he withdrew, turning several times to look again at the Greek girl. " Heavens ! What a lovely child she is ! " he muttered in English. She cannot be more than fifteen or six teen years of age — too good for this place — and they say that old miser her father intends her for a pasha or the great Abdi himself, perhaps. By Jove ! it's too bad. If she was in London — ah ! after all, England is the place for the women. Passing through a squalid street he entered a boat, where several Greek sailors were playing song tunes on an old guitar. There was a clank of a chain, the dip of an oar, and the stranger was gone.

Serena still sat, as if under a spell, where the stranger had left her. " When I was a slave in my own dear country I saw big, grand warriors like him," said the negress. Still her mistress sat on in silent thought, listening to "Alia Hu! " as it sounded clear and solemn on the evening air, calling to prayer. Then there boomed out the sound of the tambour twilight's warning voice. Then she rose slowly, gathering her shawls around her, and wandered into the palace.

Chapter III

" So the spell now works around thee, And the elankless chain hath bound thee. O'er thy heart and brain together Hath the word been passed — Now wither." Although Serena had often seen strangers come and leave her father's apartments, she had never been permitted to meet or speak to them. She had seen them in the distance, but they had never interested her in the least. Some months before our story commences, one night after she had retired to her rooms, she had heard strange, shuffling* noises in her father's part of the palace. She had stolen out and hidden herself behind an angle of the corridor, and had beheld, to her amazement and horror, her parent dragging some thing along the floor in a sack, and which appeared very heavy, and bore very much the outlines of a human form. Constantine, panting with haste and exertion, pulled his burthen to a door, which his OTHO daughter had never remembered to have seen opened before; but which stood wide open now.

Her father disappeared down some steps, and, peering over, Serena saw him roll the sack down. There was a splashing thud, and, turning, she fled back and hid again, until her father returned to his rooms. As he passed he muttered low savage oaths. "Traitor! spy! dog! The dark arches, like the sea, tell no tales, nor yield their secrets, nor their dead." Like a wounded bird she had fled into her room and felt something like the clutch of death upon her senses. Her father was a murderer. She had wept bitter passionate pain, and bewailed her fate and her sister's selfishness in never returning to take her out of it. Then she had fallen asleep and dreamt strange wild dreams of sailing — sailing night unto day and day unto night — over dark waters, while, peering into her face from every wave, were grinning, ghastly faces.

Then she had seen blood -red hands clinging to the boat, and she had felt the boat sinking down, down, and she awoke with heart and brain throbbing in wild commotion. And from that day the last of her filial affection died. She dared not breathe it ; but in her innermost soul she felt this was no OTHO home for her. The day previous to that in which she had seen her father dispose of the sack, she had seen a strange merchant enter her father's apartments, but had noted he did not leave again. Basena was devoted to her young mistress, and had loved with slavish idolatry Serena's sister, who had gone away in the silent night. Nothing had ever been learnt of her fate or her companion, and her name was forbidden to be mentioned in the presence of the old Greek. It seemed the little good or feeling that had ever lived in his stony heart fled with his eldest child. Basena said they .had not always dwelt in Constantinople.

Chapter IV

" Time shall not see The hour that tears my soul from thee : Even Azrail from his deadly quiver, When flies that shaft, aud fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust. BYRON. The day following that on which Serena had met the stranger in the garden, she sat again in her favourite seat, and, strange to say, the stranger came again, also. At length her cold reserve thawed beneath his winning smiles, and his hearty genial manners won her confidence. Day after day was spent thus in the gardens ; for her father had gone away again on one of his secret journeys. She wandered with all the passionate fire of her young soul on the border land of love — that world of angels and demons, of blessing or everlasting torment. The commonplace compliments first, the soft clasp of hand to hand, the wish spoken of heart to heart, and the foundation stone is laid.

OTHO 11 Just these idle words, just the faintest sigh awakes to life, sin, sorrow, regret. What endless grief would be saved in this world of bitter change and partings if they had been left unsaid ! Need I say Serena learnt her first lesson, the sweetest ever learnt by mortal, of love, listening to the deep-toned stranger ; " For love is of man's life a thing apart, — 'tis looman's ivhole existence" — whilst he felt and knew it was pleasant spending the lazy summer hours in such sweet ingenuous companionship. Watching the smiles come and go and the sparkle of her brilliant eyes, he never cared to question the resume. He knew he was leaving* to resume his travels, but no dream of taking a wife with him had crossed his vision at any time, and certainly it had not now ; and the Greek girl — spell-bound in the new delightful land she wandered in — never looked beyond the present, and she sat and watched for his coming day after day.

Constantine Beam's one aim and ambition seemed money, and his enemies said he would sell his soul to the devil for gold, and that he cared for nothing else under the sun. He had been absent quite ten days, when he returned, as he always did, suddenly, and calling for Serena he abruptly informed her that he had long destined her to be OTHO the wife of Selim Pasha, grand guard of the seaport at Batoum, about five or six miles from the coast of the Black Sea. " He has often begged a wife, and last year he ■came here and saw you." He did not add he had sold her for a large sum •of money, and to save his head, because he had been caught playing the spy for the Russian priests on the mouth of the Tchouruk many years ago. Some had thought it was against his own •countrymen he was plotting — it was not unlikely.

Then he informed her she must be ready to accompany the servants or slaves of her future husband in three days. " Basena remains with me." Then his daughter cried out in an agony of passion and grief; wild horror was portrayed on her brilliant features. "Holy mother of mercy, I cannot go there! Oh, father, do not let me go away ! I will die, I -will kill myself first ! " The old man gazed upon his child in dark surprise. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "she has been awakened." Speaking aloud to his daughter, he disdained to notice her outburst of grief. " Thou hast always been obedient, child, and thy lusband will give thee many servants, many jewels, OTHO more than I could ever afford thee in these wretched times. When I am gathered to my fathers, it will give me peace to know my only child," he said bitterly, " is happy and in the possession of luxuries, well cared for, not spurned by strangers in the streets of Constantinople.

It is well, my daughter ; I am thankful to see your pious sorrow to leave thy old father and thy nurse ; but it is wiser for my slave to stay with her master. Strange servants agree not with old ones." Tearing the pearls from her throat, and the beads from her arms, she dashed them at the old man's feet. "Perhaps you killed someone to give these to me, and you will kill me next," and she turned and fled from his presence.

Chapter V

" Now thou art mine, forever mine, With life to keep, and scarce with life resign." When the stranger came again to the garden he found his lovely friend in bitter tears, and then he was struck with regret, remorse and sorrow. Sorrow at her fate, although he had foretold it thus, when he had left her the first evening he had spoken to her in the garden. But he had forgotten this in the pleasant dreamy hours, spent amid the gardens and beneath the hazy glamour of her innocent companionship, watching the fountains pilay. And now a chill like the touch of death smote his conscience and his heart ; and he knew it was regret they had ever met. He soothed her as well as he could, but while he did so, he knew and felt he should go — go out of her life, away from her fate. But was it her fate. Still his will overruled the fate, and he felt bound to remain at her side.

He felt in his innermost heart OTHO she loved him. But did he love her ? He thought he did not, but still he lingered ; and the sun was set, and the short twilight passed, the shades of night were gathering, when Basena hurried to her mistress. " My little child, my pretty baby, thy fate is sealed. Even while I speak your father enters with strangers and servants. Haste to thy rooms ; he may call thee." Serena knew what they meant bv their visit, and flinging herself on the stone flags of the terrace, she wept and wrung her hands in terror. 'The old negress wept with her. " You must bid the stranger adieu, for if thy father finds thee absent no one can tell what would befall us." The stranger had often accompanied the girl to the palace entrance, but had gone no further, and Serena had begged him with earnest terror in her eyes not to have any transactions with her father.

He had of course avoided the old Greek since then. Notwithstanding he had seemed in quest of the latter the first time he visited the garden, not his daughter ; then he told her he and Basena would manage some way to save her. Bidding her good night he told them he would linger near the gardens, and that if anything OTHO happened during the evening he would help them.. He said he would be her friend. Then she had gone to her chamber and knelt in prayer, broken by sobs and anguish. She seemed without hope and, schooled so little, what relief could she find in prayer, or what hope in the world? She dreaded her father, and now a fresh trouble was added, the dread of parting with her new-found friend the stranger. All the time she prayed and wept the old negress tried to cheer and comfort her with dreams of the world and the beauty and brave gallantry of the young stranger, and how he would save her and carry her away out into the world into his own grand country beyond the seas.

No sleep came to her that night, nor any molestation from her* father's apartments. Then a wild hope sprang up in her heart that this was not the grand pasha intended for her husband. Disappointment to this hope came soon, on the morrow early. Constantine sent for the old negress, and told her, with deep meaning in his tones,. that it would be well for her to prepare her mistress to be ready to-night to leave Constantinople for her future home. As the old slave left his rooms, she muttered bitter curses on his head and clenched her hands ; then she hastened out and down by the terrace walls to the water's edge, and there, behind a column of the wall, they laid plans to save the lovely Greek girl. OTHO " You must not see her," she said, " but meet me here to-night at the sound of the tambour."

Then she had gone to some dark dingy street, mostly Greeks and black slaves, and there amongst those of her own dusky race she had planned, knowing well her plans would be carried out ; no need to bribe them — the taste of revenge in cheating the old Greek was sweeter than any gold. C

Chapter VI

" The love that shall fade no more, Till the sun grows cold, and the stars are old, And the leaves of the judgment book unfold." Taylor. When the twilight gave place to dark night, the negress met the stranger and led him down a dirty street to some boats, and telling him to accompany these men, he could then meet them. Then she had hastened back to the Greek girl, and silently and quickly led her to the secret door, and taking a key from her bosom she unlocked it, and pushing the girl in she followed, locking the door again after them. Serena shook and trembled with fright, and, weak with grief, she dreaded these dark steps, leading where ? Then the old nurse placed her cushion on a step low down, and bid her mistress seat herself, and wait patiently, and all would be well. Holy God grant OTHO 19 it !

Serena could hear the swish of water close to her feet ; then there came a sound as of the ebb tide, the grating of a boat keel as it touched the stone step ; the girl rose in fear ; there was a flash of torch light gleam, and the stranger sprang up the steps from the wherry or small boat to the girl, and she, in her glad surprise at meeting him, forgot her maiden modesty, forgot everything, all her anxiety. In him and his company lay all her hopes, her life, and as he held her in his arms her eyes looked into his, her warm breath was on his brow, she poured out the wealth of her beauty, her youth, her love to him ; and in silence he gathered it all and her to his breast. What man would have done otherwise ? It was not in human nature to resist. He was a brave young Englishman, and can we blame him if for the nonce he forgot friends, home, or reason, in his ardour and chivalry for another's wrongs, and that other a young and lovely woman, a child no longer?

His kingdom, his life, lay at her feet; care, time, or change entered not, nor death, into the rapturous present; no cruel hint even came to warn them of their destiny. Golden love alone reigned supreme. Basena grew impatient at their delay, at their forgetfulness of the danger lurking behind that fatal door, and touching the stranger's arm drew his attention towards herself and the boat. Seated in OTHO the bow was an old ferry man — a Turkish guide he appeared by his dress and long beard. Serena,. remembering what she had seen that ever-to-be remembered night months ago, shivered as she clung to the stranger, and dreaded she knew not why or what. No sound came from her lips, but she clasped. the stranger's arm in fear. " Trust me, darling ; I will take you out to the sea,. and then when you are my wife and bound to me, you will not be taken away."

Then they had entered the boat. Tenderly indeed the stranger placed her on her cushion; then Basena followed her and the stranger in, and they pushed off. The chain clanked, the water swished, and they passed out into a dark waste of water. Serena trusted the stranger with all the faith of her pure guileless heart, and she knew no doubt of Basena. By the glimmering uncertain light of the torch set in the bow of the wherry,* column after column seemed to rise endlessly, and their glistening polished surfaces glittered like diamonds. The strange dress of the old guide, his flowing beard, the dismal silence, and the faint gleam of the torch, reminds us of something we have read from the poet's description of the Stygian ferryman. 'Wherry or small boat.

Chapter VII

" The winds are low on blacken wave, He could not see, he could not hear, When Love, who sent, forgot to save." 'On they went. No star gave its faint light overhead, nothing but solemn unutterable darkness. At last they drew near to some massive pillars, and the quick ■ear of Serena caught the splash of oars, and she exclaimed. " We are pursued ! " The stranger struck the torch from the bow of the boat. Silently he leant ■over and took the girl's clasped hands in his and pressed one burning passionate kiss upon them. Reseating himself he waited. The dull splashing of the water, the Stygian darkness, and his own peculiar position, would have weighed down the spirits of any but those of the ;stranger. There was hereditary fatalism in his race, and he sat with heaving breast and flashing eyes, brave, firm, and silent, waiting the storm that .momently they expected would burst upon them.

OTHO The sound of the oars grew nearer, and at length could be seen clearly a boat in their wake, with a torch in the bow containing two figures. The old guide whispered, " There are only two, we are four, let them pass." Nearer and nearer came the boat, and the light revealed Serena to the men in it. One a slave and the other, so muffled in his turban, could not be seen. But he muttered as they passed, " An intrigue." The stranger hailed them, " Who goes there, friend or foe ? " The boats by this time had become stationary between the pillars. Serena uttered a low cry. "I am Mahmoud Abdul-Haniid the unfortunate," said the turbaned figure. Making a profound inclination, the old guide spoke,. " No longer unfortunate ; even now the cannon from the seraglio announce to the people the dethronement of your predecessor and the elevation of your sublime highness to the throne.

" Allah be praised ! " said the prince. " But who art thou and who are thy companions ? " gazing with undisguised admiration at Serena. " Speak truly, for thy good news inclines me to be generous." The stranger briefly told their tale of love, the cruel fate of the Greek girl, ordained by her father; and the sultan was satisfied. " Did I not inform thee, oh gracious prince ! that L OTHO would take thee to life and to a throne ? " cried the slave. " Even now the voice of the people cry for their new sultan, and you are being searched for everywhere." In their great excitement thev had not, owing to the darkness and the echo of their voices, noticed that even while they spoke another larger boat had nearly reached them, containing several dark figures, and even while the stranger was turning to draw Serena closer to him, he saw shadow of hands on their oar, and a dark object fell with a dull, crashing, deafening thud on his head and he remembered no more.

Chapter VIII

Rose the sweet strain peacefully, Like a river in its flow, Sung as only they can sing Who life's thorny path have passed ; Rock of Ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee. It was evening, after a dark dreary November day. The sky and everything was as dull and gloomy as the heavens of London ; the moaning sighing wind swept "with chilling gusts through the silent and almost deserted streets of Rome. Shops were closed, a few solitary guards were standing about ; no priests, not oven a citizen, could be met. Outside the convent of St. Ann only the soft dying strain of the Vesper hymn could be heard above the sighing, sobbing, moan of the weary wind. Within the convent and within rooms was a room ; heavy, richly-embroidered hang ings adorned the windows and doors, and on a bed — also draped with the same crimson shade, with the same rich needlework, the work of the nuns — as OTHO the soft music stole into the room a sigh, faint but ■deep, came from within the hangings of the bed.

A tall elegant form arose from a seat behind a screen .and advanced quietly to the b3dside. Gently, with drawing the curtains, she moistened the lips of a man lying swathed and bandged in white cloths ;still as death. At the touch of the mixture on his lips he tried to open his eyes, but he was bandaged. Seeing he was beginning to get restless, she smoothed his pillow ; another veiled form arose from behind the screen and straightened the coverlets ; then he listened to murmuring voices and the streams of the heavenly music stole into the room. Slowly his ; senses were returning. He was regaining in a slight measure his consciousness ; he thought he must be ■ dead and this was heaven ; he felt he was not alone, but that ministeringangels were hovering around him. But he could not think, and when he tried to remember anything, his mind seemed to fail entirely ; when he tried to lift his hands he felt a soft pressure on them, and a caressing finger touched his lips, then he would fall asleep listening to the faint murmur of voice and music.

Day gave place to night and night to the day, and at length it began to dawn on his vacant mind that he must really be passing through a process of purification ; still he remained silent, he felt he must OTHO have passed through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and that the shadows were still upon him, and that he was nearer heaven day by day, as sound and touch seemed clearer and nearer to his senses. This was during the day ; but at night he could not rest. It was then his memory tried to penetrate the past, and after slumbering in fits he would wake, and there would sound on his ear the sweet divine strains of morning praise. Slowly as he thought of it, his mind regained strength as his physical powers returned, and one evening he caught the hand of one of the attend ants and he said, " I listen to the voice of angels."