Led Astray. A novel

Front matter

■ AT EVERY LIBRARY. NEW WORK BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. PARIS HERSELF AGAIN In 1878-9, With Four Hundred Illustrations BY Cham, Bertall, Pelcoq, Grevin, Gill, Marie, Morin, Deroy, Lalanne, Benoist, Lafosse, Mars, etc. 2 Vols. Demy 8vo. Cloth, handsomely bound. 25s. iLonoon : REMINGTON & CO., 5, Arundel Street, W.C. LED ASTRAY. a -fliobrl. IN TWO VOLUMES. B V A. B. CHETWYND. VOL I. ilonbon : REMINGTON AND CO., 5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C. .879- [All Rights Reserved.] TO THE READER. I feel in offering this, my first novel, to English readers, that one or two words of explanation are due. I must state that I have lived much in France and read much of French literature ; and that I am aware that traces of my French reading and French education will be found in many places in the construction of my sentences and the general character of my work.

Such short comings — for shortcomings they are — in a book destined to be issued on the English side of the Channel, I will ask my English readers (and I hope I shall have many English readers) kindly to overlook. If, as I hope, my little story should interest them, they will be disposed to forgive these technical flaws the more readily. A. B. CHETWYND. Boulogne-sur-Mek, 15th October, 1879. " Sheep and men are very much alike ; they go in flocks, and can't give a reason why. They leave their fleece on any bramble that is strong enough to insist on fleecing them. They bleat loud at imagined evils, while they tumble straight into real dangers. And for going off the line there's nothing like them. There may be pits, thorns, quagmires, spring guns, what not, the other side of the hedge, but go off the straight track they will — and no dog can stop them.

It's just the sheer love of straying. You may bark at them right and left ; go they will, though they break their legs down a limekiln. O, men and sheep are wonderfully similar ; take them all in all ! " — Ouida. LED ASTRAY.

Chapter I

Ox a beautiful sunny morning, about the beginning of June, tbe bells pealed merrily from a very pretty country church in the parish of one of the most picturesque villages I have seen, so surrounded is it with mag nificent trees, and, being rather elevated from the high road, it particularly attracts your attention. The bells pealed merrily, the children screamed and tried to outrun each other, the dogs barked; all Avas commotion in that quiet village — and even the elder persons hastened their course; and as the carriages dashed past, all were eager to get a glimpse of the lovely bride and happy bridegroom* vol. I. B LED ASTKAA". and as they passed, all around were heard to say — " God bless them, how happy they look." And, indeed, they were happy, for it was a true love match, — not that they had had to encounter unheard-of trials to prove that "true love never did run smooth."

No, theirs had been one of those quiet unruffled courtships, their whole happiness con centrated in each other ; and this day had been so longed for which was to complete their felicity. The bride, Clara Evans, had only just attained her 18th year. She was very slight and delicate, with one of those angel's faces whose look is love, and which only asks to love and be loved ; kind hearted to all who knew her, she won your affections, and en twined herself closely round your heart; not one of those characters to battle with the world. Oh! no, she was formed to be the one loving endearing companion. LED A STRAY. There was only one sorrow on that happy wedding day, the remembrance of her dear father, whom she had had the misfortune to lose some years since, and whose protecting arm she missed to guide and support her on this eventful day, when she was to pronounce those solemn and lasting vows — " Till death us do part."

Clara had, indeed, the arm and kind pro tection of a dear good uncle ; but who can replace the sure protection of a fond, loving father ? Her devoted mother adored her, but alas ! the loss of her dear husband had left the traces of such deep sorrow, and this day the disconsolate widow missed him more than ever. It recalled more forcibly to her mind her sad bereavement. Mrs. Evans was of the same nature as her dear child, knowing little of the Avicked ways of this world. She had had a kind and loving husband to the last, and she hoped from the choice of her beloved child that Clara would enjoy the same felicity. Mrs. Evans had known the bridegroom, Walter Redford, from his birth. His father, Mr. Redford, an old college friend of her husband's, had married, rather late in life, a lady every way calculated to make him happy ; the birth of a son, if possible, augmented their felicity, but crosses will come; for when you do meet with a happy couple either pecuniary difficulties or illness comes to give them their share of sorrows, so impossible is it to have, for any length of time, unalloyed felicity in this world.

Mr. and Mrs. Redford had passed nine years of mutual happiness, loving and be loved by all around them, spoiling and doating on their dear child ; and when their trial did come, it was with such a crash — the failure of an important bank, where nearly all their fortune was lost. They had for some time great difficulty in bringing their minds to comprehend exactly their awful position, reduced on a sudden to misery, for certain it is, that the loss of fortune is one of the greatest trials. Those who have been always accustomed to every comfort, every luxury, to know that with one crash they are penniless. Oh ! it is hard to bear, it is a maddening thought for the first moment, and afterwards daily, hourly sorrow; the galling slights of the flippant and narrow-minded ; every moment of existence brings a pang ; the slightest desire you may feel, you must bury it deep, deep in the profoundest recesses of your heart, and notwithstanding the daily and hourly battle, longing for comforts will come, and must be repressed, until you arrive at the moments of great despair, and you feel, oh ! such a longing to leave this world of sorrow and privations ; the hard lesson of self-denial must be learnt.

Some few have the chance to meet with good and real friendship, but that is very rare. There are sure to be many ad visers, but few good and heartfelt. So many who have sought you in your bright days of ease and luxury, will, one by one disappear, and at last forget that you exist, and you are left to brood over your adversity — alone. After much consideration, and the great yearning to leave the country where they had enjoyed comfort and happiness, Mr. Red ford decided to go to Australia. He had been offered by a friend a position there which, if it would not place him in luxury, would at least enable him to give his dear wife some of the comforts she had always been accustomed to have. So they left their once happy home. Sorrow had so changed them; new scenes might heal the wound, or, at least, bring them some forgetfulness.

And so they started on their long journey. Mr. Redford had been persuaded to leave his son Walter under the care of a maiden aunt, who, as she had the means, undertook the expenses of his education. This sister had never married, and was delighted to have Walter to love and spoil. After a time, if his parents liked Australia, and succeeded there in their affairs, he was to join them. Walter was too young, being then only eight years old, to feel and know the loss of the protection of his father. The parting was very sad, he wept bitterly for days, but time softened this first sorrow, and constantly, with his dear aunt, they would talk together of the poor wanderers. Walter dearly loved his aunt, a dear, good soul, but who was more capable of spoiling him than of warning him of the many dangers which beset young men in tlieir " debut dans la vie."

She did not even dream of all the snares that surround them ; and when poor weak nature has not been able to resist, leave them often to agony and remorse. How should she have known, for she had always lived a very retired life, and would have shrunk back with horror had any one ventured to relate to her the allurements and temptations that beset youth. Mr. and Mrs. Redford had left them about six years ; letters, of course, were exchanged very regularly, and some hopes of future happiness began to dawn for the exiled ; only a few years more, and Mr. Redford hoped to realize sufficient fortune to enable him to return to his dear country and all his affec tions. His letters were full of this desired happiness — to see once more his dearest child. All began to be bright again. Walter and his kind aunt talked constantly of this happy event ; projects were made ; they even, from discussing so much the happy re-union imagined that the day was very near.

What would they do on that day? With what joy Walter Avould rush to the arms of his dear parents. Alas, the fallacy of human projects ! How well I remember, with a dear friend, making all kinds of happy projects, we were to do this, we were to do that, go here and there and everywhere ; in fact, the evening was spent in planning how we should pass a few weeks of enjoyment ; Ave Avere like school girls talking of their long looked-for holidays. The husband of my friend was a member of Parliament, and the session was drawing near its close. We were to pass our time with my friend without care, as we hoped, and thoroughly to amuse ourselves. And with these bright hopes we parted in the evening. But I felt a kind of shiver come over me, as in parting, I exclaimed — " Helas les projets:' Was it a warning, that cold shiver ?

Do we receive warnings ? How often after a sad event we remember something, some little trifle that we then accuse ourselves for not having remarked or reflected on. But sure enough it happened that my cold shiver was a precursor of disappointment to our sanguine wishes, for, the very next morn ing, at the break of day, came a telegram to say that the mother of my friend's husband was seriously ill. In a few hours they had started off ; and I shall never forget the deep sorrow of the gentleman, and the big tears rolling down his handsome face — and with all their speed he could only arrive in time for the eternal parting in this world, the last embrace of a dearly beloved and devoted mother. And so all our projects were of course abandoned. How constantly we ought to bear in mind those beautiful words — " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."

And so it happened with the projects of Walter Redford and his aunt, whilst they were forming their happy projects, the loviDg wife, the devoted mother, was breathing her last, and instead of one of the gay and hopeful letters they had so often received of later the next was to announce that sad event. The address Avas in the father's hand writing, but how their hearts misgave them at the sight of the deep black border. With what trembling hands the dear old aunt tore LED ASTRAY. open the envelope, and what a cry of despair from Walter at the sad news ; his dear, fond doating mother, he would never, oh ! never again, receive her loving caresses ! How he then recalled to his mind every little circumstance of their parting, the last endearing kiss, the last fond and long em brace of that dear mother.

Oh ! could he but have foreseen, how far more fondly he would have clung to her — how fervently would he have begged her forgiveness for any waywardness, any disobedience, any pain he might have caused her, but he had parted with that fond mother, and with her all the sanguine hopes of youth; never for one moment had he thought it was their last part ing ; he thought only of their hopes of meeting again, and of often being encircled in those arms and caressed by that dear, fond mother ; and now with what tears of sorrow streaming down his cheeks he cried in his great agony, " Oh ! never more shall I see my dearest mother ; never more, never more" The kind aunt was very much grieved ; she knew full well what a kind, affectionate wife her brother had lost ; his letter was so full of deep, poignant sorrow, and he expressed such a profound feeling of loneliness.

Poor dear Walter, still with sobs and streaming eyes, wrote a very beseeching, fond letter to his father, saying how much he wished to come and join him ; but it was too late, the blow had been too hard to bear, and the father, the fond husband, before his son's letter reached him, had gone to join the dear and affectionate companion who had fortified and consoled him in all his misfortunes. This sad news was announced by a friend of Mr. Redford's, who had been constantly with him after his wife's death, and who had undertaken to settle all pecuniary affairs, sell some property he had there, and send the produce to his son Walter. The kind aunt had the money invested, to accumulate until her nephew should be of age. The aunt, Miss Redford, felt she was uoav to replace Walter's dear departed parents.

She actually so doated on him, the dear old lady, that she could not part from him even for a day ; and when some friends hinted at the necessity of his going for at least two years to school, to prepare him for battling with the world, she was quite angry with them for some time. She said the tutor he had could direct his studies very well ; and it was only when her anger had subsided, that her friends reasoned with her more calmly, and arranged that Walter should go -to school for two years. With what eagerness the holidays were looked forward to on both sides, for Walter returned equally the great affection of his loving aunt. LED ASTRAY. 15 At school Walter was very much loved, he was so quiet, so inoffensive, always ready to do a kindness, or to screen his companions. Do what they would, they could not ruffle his good temper ; he was so easily led to do all they wished ; had there been any designing boy, he Avould easily have led him into any mischief, for his was a dear frank nature, noble-minded and truthful, and possessing no guile in himself, he could not suspect it in others.

His great happiness was to look forward for the holidays to be with his dearly loved aunt, and oh ! how he longed for the expira tion of the two years, as then they would never more be separated. . The aunt, Miss Redford, like a foolish, doating creature, would not hear of his choosing any career, she would leave him all the fortune she possessed, which, with what he had already, would provide an income of five hundred a year, — she also left him the house they now lived in ; he could be happy with that fortune. The truth is, she would not part with him. There are so few women who are capable of bringing up young men ; especially those who have lived such a retired life as Miss Redford. How incapable they are to direct them for choosing a career, they little think Avhat an important, what a stern necessity there is for youth to have some occupation, what incalculable misery rises from desœuvre ment, how many very bitter pangs are felt by those who have not their minds and time occupied, and who roam about listlessly to kill time ; how very often the want of occupation leads youth into dissipation, and even into crime.

They form idle habits in their youth, and their latter years are passed in regretting time lost, and those talents given by our great and kind Creator never brought into action, and so many years whiled away in utter uselessness. Whereas, when grief and sorrow arrive, for sure it is that some will come — every one has his cross to bear in this world, in whatever station of life he may be — how much some forced occupation will prevent our thoughts dwelling long on our great sorrows, and what a relief comes to a mind well occupied. I know well that there are some deep over whelming sorrows, when even the strongest minded are overcome, for when the heart, the feelings, have been too deeply shaken, it is im possible to bring the mind to worldly affairs for some time ; this great sorrow must have its course, and it is only by a very great effort we can return to our every day occupations, to the career we haA*e chosen ; but when we VOL. I. c do, our thoughts are of necessity weaned from our great grief, and calmness and re^ signation arrive ; for the mind once relieved from constantly brooding on our afflictions, will sooner become fortified. Time Avill do the rest with the aid of our Heavenly Father.

Chapter II

The family of the bride consisted of only three members — Mr. Evans, his wife, and their daughter Clara. Mr. Evans had been engaged in mercantile affairs, but soon after his marriage, his health became so impaired that he was strongly recommended country air and repose, at least for some length of time. He was accord ingly induced to purchase a very pretty residence near Mr. Redford, an old college friend for whom he had a great regard and the two families became very intimate. The village of was of little import ance, the principal street contained on the right hand a row of houses, chiefly shops, and on the left was to be seen the church, elevated from the high road, and embosomed in magnificent old trees. There were many antique tombs scattered round it, and, indeed, some of them were very ancient and remark able, for there were several good ancient families who frequented that pretty rural church, and who resided on their estates scattered in the environs.

Before coming to the village street, there Avere several pretty villas, with long gardens in front, each with a gravelled pathway leading to the entrance-door, which was sur rounded with a trellised woodwork covered with lovely roses and honeysuckles ; behind each house there was a rather large garden walled in, but no entrance at the back. The neighbours had no communication ; each seemed to live for themselves. In one of these small villas had resided Mr. Redford, with his wife and son, and very near was the house where his maiden sister resided, who was some years older than him self. But before you came to this row of villas, was a much larger detached house. The entrance to this property was by a large gate, on the left of which was to be seen a porter's lodge, a very pretty little building covered with ivy, roses, and clematis, and shaded at the back by several tall magnificent trees.

From this lodge wound a short carriage drive through a small park, but kept with such great care that it was smooth and soft to Avalk on as a well-kept lawn. As you approached the house there came with the breeze delicious perfumes of flowers. At the back of the family house there were several large beautiful trees, and delicious shady walks, and every care was taken to make it a cool retreat in the time of the sultry summer weather. There was a very pretty summer-house, arranged with great taste, full of beautiful rare plants. There, in that quiet spot, inhaling the LED ASTRAY. delicious fragrance of the flowers, listening to the sweet carolling of the birds, whose songs of freedom mounted to the skies — the humming of the bees, all so delicious, you felt yourself in Paradise. The principal entrance to the house was attained by three stone steps, surmounted by a portico, and the door opened into a large hall, with doors on either side, leadingone to the dining-room, the other to the drawingroom, which was occupied by the family as a general sitting-room.

There were two rooms at the back, one fitted up as a study and library, the other a small parlour. The two other stories consisted of bedrooms. It was not a large house, but arranged with every comfort. The family who had resided in it, and to whom it had belonged, had resided there for at least three generations. In fact, it was a small, quiet, lovely retreat, ■well suited for happiness and retirements where the busy turmoil of the world could be entirely forgotten. As soon as Mr. Redford knew of his friend's delicate state of health, and his in tention of retiring from business, and residing in the country, he wrote to tell him of this pretty place being for sale, as the family intended leaving England. Mr. Evans came to see it, and was so charmed that the purchase was made immediately, and a few weeks after, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, with their little girl, were installed at Grove Lodge, and en joying the beautiful pure air, and the calm he so much required.

But even in this sweet little paradise sorrow came too soon ; for a time the change had been most beneficial to Mr. Evans — hope had entered the heart of the affectionate wife — but it was only a spark kindled to flicker for a time, and then to die away and leave nothing but gloom and sadness. After a few months passed alternately between hope and despair, the health of the dear husband, the kind father, gave way by degrees, without rallying moments, and the soul of the invalid calmly flitted away, leaving his dear devoted wife overwhelmed in the bitterest grief. It was during this very great trial that Mr. and Mrs. Redford and the sister showed so much kind attention to the disconsolate widow, and the affection ripened into the most devoted friendship. But when those dear friends were obliged to leave and go on their long journey to Australia, it was a most heartrending parting.

The intimacy continued Avith Miss Red ford, each wanting reciprocally consolation, and the bosom of a true friend, and to talk of their sorrows. This daily intercourse threw Walter and Clara constantly together, and who can wonder at the affection that was formed ; indeed, the mother and aunt saw it with great satisfaction. The mother felt how delighted she would be to confide the happiness of her dear child to Walter, whom she loved very tenderly. And the aunt, who was getting on in years, felt that when her time came to leave this world, her dear Walter would not be so lonely, but have all the blessings of a home and family, and kind hearts to love and care for him. So the wedding was, indeed, a happy one, the ardent desire of all parties, and holding out bright prospects of never-ending felicity.

All Avas sunshine — who could imagine that any cloud could come to darken that bright summer's day. Their love was like a clear limpid stream; what could ruffle it? what breath of wind could come and pass over that calm stream of love and happiness. Few friends were invited to the wedding. The two families had lived very much for each other, and of the bride's family only the brother of Mrs. Evans came— his Avife being a A*ery gay and worldly woman, there had been little or no intercourse for many years. The brother of Mrs. Evans had come often to pass some days with his sister, to whom he was very much attached, and he doated on his dear niece. He was always consulted in all family affairs since the death of his sister's husband, and entirely acted as Clara's father for this happy event. Mrs. Evans had lived more retired than ever since her sad loss, for her health had remained very delicate.

She was quite unable to return visits, so that little by little her only society had been the Redford family. When they were obliged to leave, the parting Avas most sad. Her life then was passed in the society of Miss Redford, and with the two children they formed a very happy party. They were very much beloved by all the neighbouring poor, who were always cared for, and often would Clara and Walter go hand-in-hand to take something useful, sent by the mother, to those who were too ill to come and receive it from herself, and Walter felt very happy and proud to have Clara confided to his protection. With what tender care he Avatched over her in all their rambles, and how often would they return laden with lovely field flowers, and laughing at some slight misadventure, — that joyous, clear, happy laugh of thought less childhood where no worldly care or sorrow had come to give a false or melancholy tone.

No, their laugh was clear and joyous as the singing of the larks, whose free and happy notes seem to mount to Heaven and mix with the songs of angels. Oh ! that was, indeed, the happy time of childhood. How often would they return from their rambles laden with daisies. They would make a wreath for her together, and wheu Walter placed it on her head, mixed in her beautiful long curly hair, she would look up to him, and her lovely blue eyes would thank him with such a laughing, happy look. He was well rewarded with that angelic gaze. How, then, can it be wondered at, that, as years ran on, another affection should re place that of brotherly and sisterly love. So the eventful day passed off very serenely. After the ceremony was over and all the kind wishes of happiness had been listened to, they set off for a short tour on the Continent.

The bride had never seen Paris, and Walter was delighted at the prospect of showing her that charming city. After much sight seeing, they both longed for a few days' repose in some quiet place, and decided on visiting Versailles, and roaming in its magnificent park. They accordingly went there and wandered about, and visited every interesting spot, so happily, so lovingly, that time flew swiftly on. So truly had they forgotten all the busy world, all but their supreme felicity. They had passed about two weeks in this calm, lovely Eden, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Evans to tell them of a slight indis position of Walter's aunt. He feared it might be more serious than was stated in the letter ; and she had been all in all to him, most truly devoted, and he loved her too dearly to allow any postponement, — so they quickly de cided to return the next day to their home.

Their last visit was to the terrace of the Chateau, and while admiring that magnificent view aDd those splendid avenues, gilded by the rays of the setting sun, in the heavenly calmness that surrounded them, so shut out from the busy turmoil of the world, nothing was to be heard but the lulling zephyrs of the trees, the warbling of the birds seeking their rest for the night. Sweet thoughts stole on their senses as they bade adieu to this lovely spot; but a trembling, a sadness she could not vanquish, came over Clara. Was it a presentiment of the future ? Alas ! how was that very place to be visited in after years ? Could she have had a glimpse of the future, how fervently she would have prayed to have been taken from this world of sorrows, there and then, en circled in the arms of her devoted, loving husband.

Alas ! when great trials are to overtake us — how much better we should not know before-hand. The knowledge would make us shudder and be so faint-hearted ; broodin° on the coining evil would weaken our nerves. But when the great trial does fall on us our Heavenly Father sends Avith it such wonderful fortitude, that we, poor weak mortals, are astonished how, in reverting to the past, we have been able to survive such calamities. True, many are almost crushed, some trials are almost too hard to bear ; time and fervent prayer can alone reconcile us, and pour balm on our wounds. So they left that beautiful place in sadness and sorrow. New thoughts arose; the hurry of de parture ; the selecting some " souvenirs " to take back ; and then the hopes of again see ing those dear friends they had left only some weeks since.